Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Dear grieving mother

Dear grieving mother,

You don't know me. You would pass me in the hallway and never know who I am, but I might know you by your tearstained face, your hollow eyes, your not-quite-shrunken postpartum belly and your empty arms.

Your baby died. I'm so sorry.

I don't know anything else about you or your family or your situation, but I know your name because it was on your baby's toe tag, body bag and death certificate.

You see, after your precious little one passed away or was born still, he came through my morgue. The funeral home you carefully chose to use to try and say goodbye to him came to the hospital to collect his body, and I was in charge of releasing him.

It's the discharge nobody wants. It's the body none of us wish to have to release.

Your daughter looked so perfect, wrapped up in her blanket inside a body bag. She could have been sleeping. The way she had her hand curled up close to her face and her delicate little eyelids reminded me so much of my own daughter when she was born. I closed my eyes for a moment and let the pain grip my heart, knowing that what you're going through is a million times worse, and hoping that for maybe an instant your grief let up just a touch while I carried it for you.

I want you to know that I softly traced his cold cheek with my fingertips and gently ensured that the tag encircling his wee ankle matched the name on the outside of the body bag before tucking him back in. I smoothed his hair back and sent out thoughts of peace for his soul.

I want you to know that although you don't know me, and I don't know you - our lives touched for a moment. Your daughter was cared for gently and respectfully, and for the few minutes that she was my charge, I loved her. I loved her deeply, and in the same way, I loved you as well.

I can't do anything to bring back your precious child, but I thought maybe it might bring a few seconds' respite to the unending pain you're living through now to know that someone else, a stranger, was also touched by your baby and your grief.

I'm so sorry.

Love,
your local hospital's pathology tech

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Perfect Mother Magazine

We are coming to the end of my busy season at work and it could not come fast enough.  As I was finishing up a long day yesterday, missing my family and wondering if I would ever have a social life, a joke popped into my head.  It was one of those online lists: "How to balance kids, work, and marriage while still having a social life! Just follow these 73 easy steps!" Once I thought it, it was stuck. The other ridiculous standards we are held to kept popping into my head. All of the different miracle methods and divisive issues that define the Mommy Wars soon joined.  It kept me up all night (with some help from E). So here you have the product of insomnia, cynicism, and a day off.







By the end of this project, I was feeling a little guilty.  I have a great group of mom friends and we vary pretty wide on our parenting choice/styles. We are able to have conversations and accept each others' differences. We try to support each other when things get tough, and we have a safe place to say those hard truths that our culture pretends don't exist.  I didn't want anyone to feel like my satire was directed towards them. They lift me up and inspire me to be a better parent, but to also forgive myself. This cover is for them. I only wish we had a picture with all of us!






Monday, February 23, 2015

20 Names for a Stagehand's Baby

A and I have had a list of names going since 2010.  Its in a journal and we revisit it every 6 months or so (I'm sure it will be more when we are actually pregnant). If a name stays on the list through multiple versions, it must mean we like it. I am more picky about names than she is, but a few I've vetoed for weird reasons.  Like Marley/Marlee/Marleigh. Dance floor is called Marley and NO ONE like setting it up (which is called "laying marley," and that doesn't help). It made me think that there have to other names with similar stage-related counterparts. Like Marley, most are actually brand names. So here you have it, 20 Names for a Stagehand's Baby (or 20 Names a Stagehand Would Never Name Their Baby)


Amber
Apollo
Crosby
Daisy
Dolly
Edison
Genie
Harlequin
Iris
Jack
Lee
Leko
Mac
Marley
Martin
Mike
Nico
Rosco
Rosin
Spike

Think of any I missed?

Saturday, November 1, 2014

Halloween

Last night we celebrated Halloween with E, and though this is her third Halloween, it's the first time she had any inkling of what it entails. We decorated our front porch with a harvest wreath, a scarecrow, spiderwebs, and a family of pumpkins. E could really help, and my heart filled with joy in watching her stretch the spiderwebs, pull decorations out of the Halloween bin, and carry her "baby punkins" around.




We went a couple weeks ago to one of the local pumpkin farms and had a great time bouncing on the Jumping Pillow, climbing the Straw Mountain, buying fresh kettlecorn and taking a hayride into the pumpkin fields at dusk. As we sat on the wooden benches in the hay wagon and bumped along the dirt roads, laughing and sharing kettlecorn and watching the sun kiss the mountain peaks, I thought to myself that I would pay any amount of money for that kind of happiness.








E's costume this year is an incredible dragon, sewn by my mother in law in 2011 for our foster son. We loved the costume so much that we agreed, any kid in the family that's the right age/size at Halloween would be the dragon. We hoped last year E would fit, but she's pretty short and our foster son was a tall kid, so she swam in it. This year though, she (amazingly enough) had not yet outgrown it! She seems to enjoy wearing it, until she gets overheated. Not like that's common in Arizona in October or anything. We took her around our neighborhood to a few houses to Trick or Treat, then we called it quits and handed out candy to other kids the rest of the evening. It was quiet and simple and we had low expectations - all things we've learned are necessary in handling a 2 year old's perceptions of the holiday.







And as amazing as E was last night, and no matter how much I enjoyed taking her out Trick or Treating, I think there may always be a touch of bittersweet that lives on inside my heart when someone wears that dragon costume. After all, it forever reminds me of the first little blond-headed boy who toddled around in it, tripping over the feet and dragging the tail behind him.

Teri & "Andrew" the dragon, Halloween 2011


At the very least, he (and his sister) are far enough away now that it's easier to separate my longing for them from my ability to celebrate with E and love her as the dragon for her own sake.

I hope you all had happy and safe Halloweens with your families!

Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Why Marriage Matters (to me)

My good friend and co-worker was recently married. Spending time with him as he planned and prepared for his wedding really made me consider marriage and why it is so important to me. I do want to preface this by making it clear that this is really about my feelings about my marriage. I don't expect my experience to be universal, and I believe that people make the best decisions for themselves and its not my place to judge those decisions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One of the benefits of having a lesbian wedding is there were far fewer traditions and expectations. We could do whatever our little hearts desired without people batting an eye.  In 2008 we went to California with a few close friends and family.We had a courthouse ceremony to get our marriage license and then exchanged rings on the beach at sunset.  We wrote our own vows and didn't have anyone officiate that part. We came back to Arizona the next day and had a reception with our friends and family. Since we didn't have quite a normal wedding party, we asked a friend to make a speech, we skipped over all of the typical dances, and ate some cake. I think the cake was really the only traditional part of our wedding.



Flash forward to present time and same-sex marriage is in the news almost daily with all of the court battles going on. It makes me wonder what exactly we are fighting for. In this day and age, what does marriage really mean to most people? With divorce rates so high, why go through the trouble? The taboo of living together out of wedlock is all but gone. Even having children doesn't seem to have the same stigma attached.

So what is it? I think, as with everything, we all bring our own experiences and expectations to marriage. Hopefully those preconceived notions line up with those of our partner. Would our relationship be different if we weren't married (legally or otherwise)? There's a Schrodinger's marriage joke in there somewhere...

This year has been hard. There have been a lot of reasons why it has been challenging, and I'm not going to get into the nitty gritty. I am a worrier. I stay up at night worrying about work, our finances, what it will be like to have a teenage daughter (yes, I know I have over a decade to prepare...), and a myriad of other things that won't change a bit no matter how much I worry. I don't worry about my marriage. It is my rock, it is permanent. It takes work, yes, but I believe in it more than I believe in any other thing. This year has been rough, but I know that some day soon, things will get better. Some day soon, the weight will be lifted and our marriage won't be any worse for the wear, it will actually be stronger because we got though it all together.

 We have proclaimed-- to our family and friends, to our community, to the government, to complete strangers-- that we love each other and that we are a family. This year has tried us, but our marriage is a light in the darkness; a hand leading the way.

So, to my lovely wife- I love you. I love our family. No matter what life throws at us, we will come through. Together.



(now we just need more photos of all three of us...)

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Horse training log II

Some of you may remember my posts from last summer about some horses I was training at a quarter horse ranch.  Last fall, after our car accident and subsequent time spent in the body shop, I had to quit going to the ranch.  Once I had the car back, we found ourselves into the holiday season, and then of course lost our sweet pup Nova and then our wonderful old guy, Manni.  Finances have been a little tight, and the ranch is NOT located close to us, so I haven't been in several months.  Much to my chagrin.

I promised myself though, I would not and could not give up on my underdog friend, Luna. I've finally made it back out to visit her, and I'm really pleased with the news I have to share.

The first time I saw her after a long hiatus, I don't think she placed me.  She saw Yvonne (the ranch owner) and was acting slightly nervous, pacing at the front of her stall with a stiff neck and body.  I let myself into the stall and she finally did notice me.  I began scratching and stroking her shoulders and withers.  The first thing I noticed (apart from her fuzzy winter coat!) was that she'd gained a good amount of weight back.  Her hindquarters weren't hollowed out, her ribs weren't showing, and she didn't look skeletal any more.  I was thrilled to see her looking so good.  Her tail had begun to grow back in, and the rubbed-out portion of her mane had new growth as well.  Of course, nobody had taken her from the stall since I'd last seen her, much less groomed her, and I set to work. The hair was flying!  Warmer temperatures and springtime caused her to begin shedding out that long winter hair.  It had to feel good to get groomed! Yvonne stood outside the stall and caught me up on the ranch horses. (Turns out they were able to sell Abe the Paint stud to a show home because of the great start I gave him!) She also mentioned that since I'd taken the nasty old halter off Luna, she wouldn't let anyone catch her.

Luna pushed her nose into her purple halter when I offered it to her and eagerly followed me to the gate after I clipped on her lead rope.  We walked out to the round pen.  She was a little nervous on the way, or maybe more like hyper-alert.  After all, she hadn't stepped foot outside her stall since autumn.  We walked around the round pen, and Luna spooked when two large Labs came bounding up to the fence barking their heads off.  They really took her by surprise!  It didn't take very long before Luna decided they weren't going to eat her, and we moved on.

I want to mention that last autumn, in the single session that I was able to have Luna in the round pen, she was very nervous and suspicious of my saddle sitting on the ground.  She was visibly anxious about it, and normally young horses aren't afraid but rather curious. Of course, I had that rough tough cowboy to thank for Luna's reticence about the saddle.  As if it isn't hard enough to start a young horse right, I knew I'd have to help Luna see that not everybody is out to get her and that the saddle and being ridden can have very positive results.  I knew last fall that Luna and I had a lot of work ahead of us.

So this time, I worked her around the round pen without pushing her - I hoped that walking for awhile beforehand would be enough to warm her body up so that she wouldn't injure herself being an idiot after all those months cooped up.  She was surprisingly reasonable at the end of my lunge line, particularly for a young, very green, very fresh horse. Once she'd stretched her legs, we began simple groundwork.  It's easy for me to fall into my habit of assuming that the horses I handle know what I'm asking of them - I constantly have to remind myself to keep expectations low for Luna and remember that she really doesn't know anything.  This helps immensely in keeping my frustration at bay. We worked on walking side by side, turning together, stopping together, and backing up when asked. I began asking her to move different parts of her body independently with very little pressure from me.  I was amazed at how quickly Luna picked things up - I legitimately don't think I've ever worked with a brighter horse.  She would move her shoulders or her hips aside for me with just a touch of my hand within minutes of learning what I was asking. Teaching a horse these things on the ground is helpful because they're all things that I want her to already know when I finally do manage to climb onto her back.  (An aside - I always refer to Luna as "little", but I think maybe that's just because of her affectionate, in-my-pocket kind of personality.  In truth, she's quite large!  She stands at least 16.1 hands high at her withers, and I wouldn't be surprised if she were still growing.  Someone forgot to tell her she's a quarter horse and NOT a Thoroughbred.)

Luna was progressing very well, so I felt inspired to try introducing the saddle and pad again.  I retrieved them from my car and brought them to the round pen.  Luna snorted anxiously at the sight of them and I saw her eyes widen.  I set both the pad and saddle over the fence rail so she could sniff them as I came through the gate.  She must have smelled every square inch of both saddle and pad by the time she was through.  Once she was satisfied that they were safe, she began gently taking different parts between her teeth and tugging.  At this point, I was reminded yet again that although Luna's body may be 5 years old, her mind is still very immature.  She hasn't been exposed to hardly anything; she has not had the opportunity to progress like a normal adolescent horse and so, she is very much like a two year old (or younger) in how she approaches life.  This fact alone explains to me much of her behavior.

I brought the saddle and pad into the center of the pen, and Luna followed me dutifully.  She had to re-inspect them, because now they were on the ground and they looked different. Satisfied, she was not bothered when I picked up the pad and held it to her nose.  She sniffed it, and bit it.  I rubbed the pad slowly against her.  I noticed she was not nervous about it, so I grew bolder.  I switched sides and rubbed her with the pad.  I opened the pad and began flopping it gently against her.  I placed it over her back, and she was fine.  I felt proud of her for being brave. I took the pad on and off several times, walking her around in between applications.

Then I held up the saddle.  After sniffing it some more, I stood beside her and just lifted the saddle slowly into the air without advancing towards her.  She eyed it suspiciously the first time, but quickly settled.  Then I would lift it and touch it to her back.  Slowly, back and forth, advance and retreat.  Luna was uneasy, but held still and kept blowing warm air into my face as I worked beside her.  Finally, I hooked the edge of the cinch ring over her spine and slowly slid the saddle onto her back.  She craned her neck around to look at it, but her feet remained steadily in place.  I pulled the saddle off and repeated the process several times before leaving it in place.  I asked her to walk forward and she was a touch nervous, walking sideways a few strides before settling down.  I stroked her neck and repeated my mantra, "You're safe.  As long as you're with me, you're safe." I pulled the cinch around her belly and pulled it just tight enough so she could feel it against her.  We walked a few more strides as I pet her and talked to her.  I tightened the cinch another notch.  Walk, repeat.  I never tightened it enough that it would actually support a rider's weight getting into the saddle, but she had issues with cinches and bucking with the cowboy and I didn't care to repeat them.  I just wanted her to learn the saddle isn't so bad.

I kept my lunge line short and asked her to move out.  She began trotting in a very small circle around me, unsure about the stirrups bumping into her sides but moving forward and trying.  I called out to her and praised her efforts.  Though she was obviously uncomfortable with the stirrups bouncing around, she never blew up and went on a bucking rampage, which is what you can typically expect of a young horse wearing his first saddle. Gradually I let the line out and her circle widened.  After a few full-size revolutions, I asked her to pick up a lope.  She did so, lengthening her stride and picking up the pace.  She loped along uncertainly, but the point was that she was trying.  For me.  She wanted so badly to do as I asked.  I called for a whoa, and turned her the other direction.  She trotted along until I asked for a lope, and when she transitioned into the faster gait she took a misstep and caused one of the stirrups to hit into her side harder than usual.  She tucked her hindquarters underneath her and kicked out with her near hind foot one time, but then picked her lope back up perfectly, if not a bit confused about what had happened.  She loped a few turns around the pen before I stopped her and let her come in to me.  She stopped in front of me and sniffed my cheek, my hair, before touching her nose to mine and blowing sweet hay breath in my face. I hugged around her neck and told her how proud of her I was.

Just then, Yvonne stepped out onto her porch.  She had been watching from inside.  She called out to me, "That is damned impressive.  The cowboy said when he saddled her, she broke down his railroad tie round pen with all her bucking.  TWICE."

I glowed a little with happiness just then, knowing that Luna was willing to try so hard for me.  I hoped Luna saw how hard I was trying for her.

I didn't want to push my good luck, so I unsaddled Luna and took her out of the round pen.  We stopped at the tack shed to brush out some of her sweaty long winter coat before heading back to her stall.  As always, saying goodbye to Luna is the worst part of my day.  Her bright chocolate eyes always follow me as far as she can see.

We still have a long ways to go, but I feel encouraged.  I know Luna is special, and I'm interested to see what we can make of each other.

(I brought a camera to take pictures of her, but the battery was dead!  I was so disappointed I didn't get a photo of her first time wearing my saddle.  Oh well.  Next time.)

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

On the nature of selfishness and desire

A few weeks ago, we discovered this adorable little park in our neighborhood.  We didn't know it was there because it's tucked away in a part of the neighborhood that we never go, on a dead-end street. We've gone a few times.  

Last week, E and I went to the park by ourselves for the first time.  It was a beautiful day, complete with blue skies and a light breeze.  The park was empty, so we had the run of it.  E climbed on the play structure, she slid down the slide a couple times, she wanted to swing for awhile.  We wandered through the grass and had a snack.  A dog from a house across the street got loose and came running up to our stroller and began sniffing and circling in earnest, very interested in peeing on it.  I clapped my hands and yelled at him and chased him off.  He proceeded to pee on every tree and he even topped it all off by pooping on a tree.  Nice.  I walked across the street to notify his owner that he was out.  

When I came back into the park, a dad and his toddler had shown up and were sitting by the swings.  E was very interested in the little blond boy, so she took my finger and led me over to him.  She got about five feet away and was struck with shyness, preferring to hide behind my legs and watch the boy and his dad. 

I began chatting with the dad, telling him to be aware of the peeing dog, whose owner brought him into the house and promptly left his front door open again.  The dog's next escape was inevitable.  The guy laughed and asked about E, how old she is, etc.  All the parent questions.  We talked about the kids - his son Freddy is only a few months older than E.  The kids wanted to swing, so we pushed them and talked about the park and our neighborhood.  We discovered that we live only a few streets apart.  I hadn't mentioned T at all at this point, but he asked how long I'd been married.  I assumed he saw my wedding band tattoo.  I told him we'd been married five years and in the neighborhood almost as long.  Then Freddy wanted to get down and go slide, so they wandered off.  Then E wanted down, she had to follow Freddy onto the playground. 

A short while later, Julian (the dad) and Freddy had to leave.  They came over and Julian shook my hand, said it was really great to meet us and wondered if we'd be interested in meeting up at the park again at another time.  He mentioned that he didn't have many parent friends and was always looking for other kids for Freddy to play with.  I found Julian funny and easy to talk to, and was happy to have another friend for E.  We exchanged phone numbers. 

That afternoon, Julian began texting me.  The conversation is as follows (verbatim): 

J: Really nice meeting you today :) 
A: Yeah it was!  Nice to have friends in the neighborhood.
J: For sure - so you spend a lot of time at home, you said?
A: Yeah, we do.
J: Me and Freddy are always down to hang out - I heart adult interaction.
A: I'm with you on that!
J: Is it alright if I told you you looked great when we met?
A: Well... I will always take a compliment, but you should know that I'm gay and married...
J: Ah... no problem, as long as youre cool with me thinking thats pretty hot and you dont mind a flirty personality in a friend.
A: As long as you know it'll never go anywhere.  I don't want you to feel that I've led you on.
J: ;) 
J: With that clearly established may I ask a fairly inappropriate question?
A: Um. You can ask...
J: Lol how big are they?
(several minute pause)
J: sorry hope that didnt offend - Ill leave it at that, have a good evening.  Again I apologize.
A:  It seems this really isn't the relationship you'd hoped for or intended, and I feel like it probably won't ever be able to be just a friendship for you.  You're a cool guy, and I'm sure you can find somebody to have a fun, flirty, straight relationship with.
J: Super nice of you to say that ;) 



I was really floored by this whole thing.  This man seemed genuinely nice, friendly, and funny at the park.  I never got any weirdo creep vibes off him.  I never caught him looking at my chest.  He obviously already knew I was married, and yet he initiated this conversation.  

As soon as he asked if it was okay to tell me he thought I looked great, my guts immediately looped into a knot that settled heavily.  I was already trying to find a way to back out, but I was desperately trying to do it gracefully and without being rude.  It happened so fast, that in hindsight I'm less than pleased with my own responses. I should have reacted more strongly - why was I so concerned with seeming rude?  Wasn't Julian the one objectifying me and disrespecting me and my marriage?  I should have shut him down authoritatively and immediately.  If I'd done that, I probably would never have had to realize that he was only interested in my (admittedly large and unwieldy) breasts.  I was more concerned with seeming like that "cool woman" who thinks this kind of thing is funny and not disrespectful.  When he asked how large "they" were, it took me a few seconds to consider what the heck he was talking about!  I permitted the "inappropriate question" solely because I absolutely expected that it would be a question about E's conception.  His actual question blindsided me. As the realization hit, I felt deflated.  Defeated. 

He didn't know me, or care to know me.  It was of no importance to him that I am married and by definition, am not interested in him THAT way.  All he was interested in was knowing my bra size, and I do not wish to know what he was going to do with that information.  He didn't give a shit that I'm hilarious and kind and generous.  He was more interested in using me than he was in having a friend for his young son to socialize with.  He thought it was acceptable, in our very first text interaction, to show me how disposable I was to him.  

And then he thought he could undo it all by throwing out an empty apology.  Because that's what we do to appease women, right?

For many, many years, I've considered myself a feminist.  An independent, liberated woman, above needing the desire of others to make me feel good about myself. 

But when it came down to it, my first thought about this was: "I was just wearing a black tshirt, jeans, and sneakers.  My hair was in a greasy ponytail.  He can't really have thought I looked attractive.  I know I'm not." 

My first thought was to disbelieve him, when he told me he thought I looked good.  This brings me an immense amount of shame.  

This experience has taught me a lot about me, I guess.  It's been a lot of years since I've felt truly objectified like this.  This wasn't a joke between friends, or a come-on from a date.  It injured me more than a catcall from a passing truck.  

I'm just me - my body is my body, it's normal to me.  I don't think about it other than to be annoyed when I can't buy bras in most department stores, or when I try to find button-up shirts that fit (there aren't any, I swear). 

And to think, Julian has likely just moved on to objectifying someone else without giving his conversation with me a second thought.  It was no big deal.  He apologized, didn't he?!  

But for me... I'll carry this with me for a long time.  The more I've ruminated on it, the deeper the cuts feel.  To me, to women, to the human race.  All of us, sliced open.  

At the end of the day, it haunts me that Julian's son Freddy is going to grow up with my darling daughter.  This boy whose father is a major creep is going to be one of those teenagers who think that women don't need to give consent, who feels he's above the rules, who thinks my E is there for his pleasure and nothing else matters.  

I really hope I'm wrong about Freddy.  And I hope that E is stronger than me, that she's got it in her to stop people in their tracks before they make her feel like a lesser person because she has a desirable body.