It’s a…

I haven’t been this glowy and happy since I first found out that I was going to be a mom again.  It’s ridiculously cheesy and sometimes I can be both ridiculous and cheesy so, for those of you already in the know, there it is… and for those of you not in the know.. you were warned.

Also a fair warning that this is not going to be the most grammatically correct or strict form of flowing words as I usually try to adhere to.  Blame the caffeine.  Blame the excitement.  Blame the… surge of happiness I am currently feeling after so many hardships that…

But that’s for another entry.

Awhile back I mentioned that my grandmother was very ill.  Combine that with her husband (also of great importance and inspiration to me) having progressively bad Alzheimer’s, I knew that this baby would be important for them.  It was one of my “bargaining chips” to hopefully entice them to hold on a bit longer.

“Gram you have to stick around and meet your new grandchild.  I plan on naming the baby after you if it’s a girl.”

My grandparents’ names are Aldo and Anita.  Sincerely, they are two of the most amazing souls on the planet.  But while I’m happy and enjoy my grandmother’s name, I’m not a huge fan of my grandfather’s… despite my fixation for older style names in general.

Flashback to what feels like another lifetime ago…

When my ex husband fled the state and took two of my children with him.

It devastated me.

For obvious reasons.

My middle and youngest children were so little when he left… and stole those memories from me.  Memories worth far more than any dollar amount… and unfortunately that’s what it seems like it’s going to take to fight him about it.

Again… another blog.

I have one son and one daughter with him.  My daughter Sakura was one of the two children taken from me by my husband.  She was less than a year old when it happened.  He gave those memories to another woman who couldn’t have children of her own… until she later did with my now ex husband.  While I love all of my children the same, I really didn’t get the opportunity to have those little bitty moments with my daughter.  It is especially hard for me.

Back to present day again-

I had been hoping for Anita.  The idea of it made my grandmother beam rays of happiness through her tears on the phone line when I first told her.

I was told to drink a ton of fluids to help get an accurate picture of the baby.  This baby, however, was wide awake and playful, and didn’t want to give up the secret of what the sex was just yet.

But rather than keep it suspenseful more, even though I know very well I could hook you for more clicks, I’ll… tell you another story first.

My child’s father, Bear, told me that he had a dream a long time ago about the sex of a baby he was going to have.  It unfortunately did not happen.  It has brought him a bit of sadness as well.

Hopefully…. that changed a bit yesterday when I told him the news. (Spoiler alert… it did!)

Little Bear moved around a lot during my ultrasound.  My child likes to hang out in my lung capacity to give me the most heartburn possible.  The two sonographers doing the test were taking a long time trying to get Little Bear to remain still enough to figure out what was there.  Like Bear, Little Bear did NOT want to be photographed.

I got a bit of video from the ultrasound… two videos actually that I will post in a later edition.  Little Bear moved around soooo much that unfortunately the sex was not determined in those videos.

The next stenographer came in the room. This was the woman who was supposed to tell me the sex.  I couldn’t get any more pictures or video.  However… the hospital gave me a DISK of pictures.  Those will be loaded onto the proper channels in due time.

(Ha.. due time)

But back to it… Little Bear finally DID cooperate.  And although Little Bear tried his best to cover up and dodge the view…

I need-a new name…

That little boy his father dreamed about then… is happening now.   I officially have become a bit of a 50’s show with this now… third son of mine.

That said, as I was originally set on having a daughter I did not really think of a lot of boy names.  My other sons names are Ethan Raphael and Maddox Conner.  Ethan’s name was originally going to be Trent Xavier- after the Daria character and the X-men character.  My daughter is named Sakura Faye (after Faye Dunaway and Faye Valentine from Cowboy Bebop).  As you might have been able to summarize, I have a soft spot for comic/pop culture related names and old fashioned ones.  Bear’s father and I are also fans of great writer’s names.

Have an idea about a name?  Please feel free to leave it in the comments.

Little Bear

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I loved you at your Darkest

Half of me. Half of you.

 

And last night was a very very dark night.

I’m frankly ashamed of how it went.  It was not something to be proud of.  It was something that I hope that my coming child will never do to someone no matter how poorly they act to them.

I had had a very difficult few days.  Mother’s Day had come and gone… but not without leaving its own marks and scars.  I’d get into it, but I’d rather not get into it right now.  Perhaps I will when I’m ready.

Let’s just say that the events that occurred this year cut that much deeper as one of them relates to my unborn child and my current relationship (or rather near complete lack thereof) with the father… a man who I had no intentions on meeting and falling in love with in the first place

But life, of course, often has other plans.

Bear and I have gone through some very difficult and dark points throughout our relationship.  We have been off again, on again, so often it’d make your head spin.

Oh how my head seemed to feel like I were spinning we were so in love.

Once upon our time.

We were supposed to have been broken up (again) when I found out that I was pregnant.  However, after the news, we “tried again” (albeit briefly) and… it still ended up failing miserably.

In hindsight, I know what went wrong.  We were trying to conquer the same problem but we weren’t actually doing anything differently.  It was, the very definition of insanity.

One night, several months ago, he came to me in a mess of emotion.  I asked what it was.

“Darkness.” he cried to me.

And for a bit we held each other tight throughout it.

I hoped it would be over.

I know you did too.

It continued to get darker as the months went by.

We fought and fought.  We thought we were fighting the darkness but we were mistaken.

The darkness enveloped us.

It blinded us.

It was so difficult on our own and united we were too scared to stand.

I know I loved you at your darkest.

Unfortunately, in the process of trying to save us both from all of that, things only got worse.  He slipped further and further into the shadows.

They consumed us both.

Especially last night.

Our love had hit its expiration date even if the child inside me hadn’t.  The killing blow had been on Mother’s Day when Bear texted and later called me.

“Happy Mother’s Day”

He did not seem to understand how this “kind gesture” could be taken poorly.

So yesterday I made some phone calls and worked on things.  I consumed myself in other things.  The things that transpired throughout the day continued to beat me down.

So this is what it feels like to be alive huh?

The day had been a repeat of heartbreaking events.  Little did I know that it would be nothing compared to how it was last night… to the wee hours of the morning.

There was more crying.  More and more darkness.

I’m embarrassed.

How did it get this bad?

In the morning I would text him an apology.  I got up and sat in the quiet.  And then there was beauty. First the music.  Then a call from a recruiter again.  I was smiling.  My world had changed and I was still so sad but… why the hell was I smiling?

A friend messaged me asking how I was feeling.  She had just recovered from strep and yet, she was curious how I was.  If I’d slept much.  It was like… she knew.

Today was spent at the fashion district in downtown Los Angeles.  Curious… the little girl in the big city that loved and had her heart broken downtown was… going home to surround herself with… color.

Today was a reminder that no matter how dark it feels there is also color. (*See pictures from it by clicking the link*)

A part of me will always love you.  No matter how much pain and hardship we have gone through together, and apart, nothing is ever going to change that.

Someone once told me a phrase that I, in turn, flipped it around. “Where the light is brightest, the shadows are the deepest.”

Maybe part of the reason it got so bad is that we are so alike.

My friend Karissa summed things up wonderfully yesterday in private.

“No one’s a monster.  We’re all traumatized in some way… some more than… others… just looking for a way to heal.  That’s ultimately the purpose of all relationships– to serve as a mirror so that we may understand what is unbalanced within ourselves.”

Maybe we are both in that darkness… but in the light at the same time.

No wonder it scared the crap out of both of us.

The Sound Blogs: There is still music

After a very difficult night gone and seeped into the morning I felt emotionally obliterated.

But then in the quiet, when I woke up this morning I heard this in the distance… I had to follow and find out where it was coming from.  In the wash of an otherwise normal Tuesday morning on the West Side this was an uncommon but beautiful occurrence.

Even in the chaos.. there is beauty.

 

If I hadn’t left that night

Sometimes (read: often) I think about that last fateful night when…

And I wonder… what would have happened had I not left that night.

But I needed to leave.

You needed to feel my absence a bit.

I needed to feel yours.

When I left that night, I was just as upset about it as you are now.

I didn’t want to leave.

I didn’t want to fight.

I just wanted things to stop.

I’m not sure you would have done anything to change those things

If I hadn’t left that night.

I wanted you to be better.

I thought that by me leaving, you might appreciate me more.

That I might appreciate me more.

In several ways I have found one of those things to be true.

As breakable as I feel like I can be

I’m not.

There are amazing souls that appreciate me.

I used to be one of them.

I should have been more of them than I had been.

I don’t know if I could have remembered that as strongly

If I hadn’t left that night.

In the midnight hour I still dream of you

Of the person I believed in you

Of the love that I hoped would return to me

Of the happiness that I thought might appear again

But likely couldn’t…

if I hadn’t left that night.

And the texts keep coming

The answers are painful

So very very painful

And knowing might be half the battle but it still hurts wondering

Would it have been different?

Would we have been different?

Would I have been different?

If I hadn’t left that night.

It Won’t Be Like This Forever: My Abortion Story

Months ago…

once upon a time ago…
our time ago…
 
We were having a bad patch.
It seems like we have been cycling through bad patches ever since we got together.
 
I don’t know how we got there.
How we kept getting there.
How we never seemed to leave there.
 
Months ago during that bad patch I sent him a link to a song about my sadness.
Ben Folds- Brick.
 
 
“That’s a song about an abortion, not us.” he said.
“It’s how I feel.”
 
Oh what little did I know all those months ago.
 
Months later…
I sat in a cold waiting room, alone.
I was filling out forms.
Procedures.
Signatures.
Statements of “understanding.”
 
Image
 
“The world is sleeping I am numb.”
 
And the text messages poured in.
It was terrible.
We had been so terrible to each other.
 
I don’t know how it got there.
How it never seemed to leave there.
 
“She broke down. I broke down. Because I was tired of life.”
 
Inside of me there is a seed of love created in happiness.
Of something once undeniably there.
Of something that…
 
I don’t know how it got away from there.
I don’t know how it never seemed to leave there.
 
The picketers whom I had to walk past to get into the office chanted louder.
The door to the office was open.
Perhaps it was to try and remind the women waiting that there still was light.
That there still was hope.
That there still was… something.
 
I could see the picketers from my seat in the waiting room.
Their voices continued to rise.
Louder.
Stronger.
Echoing through the empty corners of that cold white waiting room.
 
And the text messages poured in.
It was terrible.
I felt terrible.
 
“Now that I have found someone I’m feeling more alone than I ever have before.”
 
I don’t know how we got there.
How we kept getting there.
How we never seemed to leave there.
 
“She broke down. I broke down. Because I was tired of life.”
 
But unlike that song, you weren’t there.
When they called my name, you were states away.
 
And these were my steps.
Little steps.
First steps.
Potentially last steps.
 
There was a part of me sentenced to die…
Whom it seemed you wanted to die.
 
The love I had felt…

That we had felt…

This would be a constant reminder and it was to be completely extinguished.
 
I wiped the tears from my eyes.
I took a deep breath breath.
I closed my eyes and pretended I was Dorothy.
I chanted to myself.
“It won’t be like this forever. It won’t be like this forever. It won’t be like this forever.”
 
And these were my steps.
Little steps.
First steps.
Potentially last steps.
 
There was a part of me sentenced to die…
Whom it seemed you wanted to die.
 
The next room I would be alone with a nurse.
Like the first, it would also be cold.
Stark cold nothingness.
It was the theme permeating throughout the building.
A sign of nothingness to be and to continue to be.
 
“Now she’s feeling more alone than she ever has before.”
 
The series of questioning would start.
Medical history.
Partners.
Relationships.
 
“Does the father know you are here?”
“Yes. He wants me to go through with this.”
“Do you?”
“I’m honestly not sure.  I feel terrible right now.  I want more information to try and make my decision.”
“Remember that this is your decision.  Don’t let anyone else force you to make one that you will regret.  It doesn’t matter if he agrees or not.  All that matters is you.”
 
“Now she’s feeling more alone than she ever has before.”
 
I closed my eyes and took another deep breath.

Months ago…

once upon a time ago…
our time ago…
 
He might not remember it but he said it.
“I want to have children with you someday.  I think you’re going to be a great mom.”
But he said it.
He said it multiple times.
 

Months ago…

once upon a time ago…
our time ago…
 
“She broke down. I broke down. Because I was tired of life.”
 
I don’t know how we got there.
How we kept getting there.
How we never seemed to leave there.
 
She continued to tell me about the procedure.
I would be asleep.
It would be relatively painless as I would be under anesthesia.
 
“The world is sleeping I am numb.”
 
“I want to find out how far along I am.  I need to know that much before I even begin to commit to anything.”
She understood.
 
It was time to take more steps again.
Little steps.
First steps.
Potentially last steps.
 
I came into a room filled with women waiting for their procedures.
Some of them were in hospital gowns.
Some of them were waiting their turn.
There were rollers with iv bags.
There were women waiting for ivs as well.
 
Image
 
It was cold.
It felt like the coldest room so far.
Stark cold nothingness.
It was the theme permeating throughout the building.
A sign of nothingness to be and to continue to be.
 
None of the women so much as looked at each other let alone spoke.
Each woman either sat and stared blankly or covered their faces in their hands.
It was a room full of ghosts.
A room full of sadness.
A room full of undeniable pain.
 
I wiped the tears from my eyes.
I took a deep breath breath.
I closed my eyes and pretended I was Dorothy.
I chanted to myself.
“It won’t be like this forever. It won’t be like this forever. It won’t be like this forever.”
 
There was a part of me sentenced to die…
Whom it seemed you wanted to die.
 
The love I had felt…

That we had felt…

This would be a constant reminder and it was to be completely extinguished.
 
A nurse came in to check up on us all.
“How are all of you today?  Are you alright?  Well considering the circumstances?”
 
For a moment I felt calmer.
Warmer.
And the tears dried a little, although not completely.
 
I waited my turn.
 
Some of the women finally began to talk.
It was like they had been awoken.
Even if just for a moment.
 
That nurse was a ray of light.
She was hope.
She was a sign that there were still people who cared.
A light in that blank canvas of nothing.
 
Because that’s what a small ray of sunshine can do.
Because maybe that’s why that door was open in the waiting room.
 
There is still light.
There is still hope.
There is still… something.
 
“They call her name at 7:30.”
 
Another nurse.
Another room.
Cold still.
Nothingness still.
 
“It won’t be like this forever. It won’t be like this forever. It won’t be like this forever.”
 
Another nurse came in.
“So you’re here to get an ultrasound to find out how far along you are?”
“Yes. I am not sure if I want to proceed beyond that.  I know that knowing that much will help me with my decision and my options.”
 
I was told to disrobe from the waist down.
She would return and we would find out my answer.
 
Image
 
I looked up at a monitor.
It was waiting for someone.
It was waiting for me.
It was waiting for…
 
The nurse returned.
We started looking.
Measurements were taken.
Pictures were taken.
 
The nothingness that I felt disappeared.
I began to cry again.
 
Inside of me there is a seed of love created in happiness.
Of something once undeniably there.
Of something that…
 
I don’t know how it got away from there.
I don’t know how it never seemed to leave there.
But there it was… cozy and comfy in black and white on that screen.
 
A sign of life.
A sign of hope.
A reminder of…
 
Months ago…
once upon a time ago…
our time ago…
 
And while my heart fights the reality of that potentially never being anything more than a memory again
 
You’re still there.
 
I’m still here.
 
I’m not ready to say goodbye to either one of us.
 
And these were my steps.
Little steps.
First steps.
Potentially last steps.
 
There was a part of me sentenced to die…
Whom it seemed you wanted to die.
 
Maybe it did that day.
But maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t the way either of us thought it would.
 
That little piece of black and white was hope.
It was a sign.
A light in that blank canvas of nothing.
 
Because that’s what a small ray of sunshine can do.
Because maybe that’s why that door was open in the waiting room.
 
There is still light.
There is still hope.
There is still… something.
 
And while I admit I’m completely scared and not sure about the details of what’s about to happen I know that it’s going to be ok.
 
Because that’s what a small ray of sunshine can do.
There is still light.
There is still hope.
There is still… someone.
And I can’t wait to meet you when you get here.

External power outage day: Reasons to keep trying

This morning I woke up early to the sound of the rain.

I was inspired.

I was hopeful.

I was ready to take on the day full force… but only after I wrote here first.

I wrote a bit.

I read a bit.

For awhile, it was on Twitter… quoting lines from one of the comics I got this weekend while out and about on Free Comic Book day.

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And then, nearly almost exactly after I finished my earlier post today… well something else happened.

Silence.

The power went out.

I was so busy with my own distractions that I didn’t even notice.

How many other things do we miss because we are too busy with distractions?

I shrugged it off.  I took the dog out.  I’d read for a bit and write for a bit… the old fashioned way and kill some time contemplating and reflecting about life.

This weekend there had been a discussion about how the world “just needs a day to shut the fuck up.”  That sometimes (read: often) people just talk too damn much.  I thought about that a lot today… in the silence.

I really do talk too damn much sometimes.

I walked the dog.  I’m currently dog sitting for a friend of a friend.  One constant through my recent travels through the city has been the presence of dogs in most places where I’ve laid my head… and felt comfortable.

Perhaps this isn’t a coincidence.  I mean… there are too many damn cat fanatics out there.  Strange strange creatures that they are… on the interwebz.

On my walk I would find out an expiration date: the power would be out until 8:30pm tonight.  There were “too many other emergencies” that the LADWP simply couldn’t keep up.  I looked online on my phone.  I saw the mass amounts of orange dots on the grid.  I should have taken a screenshot.  It was pretty brutal.

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The aftermath of the Revenge of the 6th Power Outage in Los Angeles

Well Los Angeles, I guess this is your chance to shut the fuck up for a few minutes.  What are you going to do with your life?

I started to read.  I laughed as I thought about the power being dead on my Kindle.  About how despite the convenience of technology, how much I was still thankful for books.

For piles of analog transmissions and thumbed pages.

Of that new book smell.

Of that old book smell.

Of the joy of turning a page in anticipation of the next.

It’s these simple things that make me smile.  But the day wasn’t over just yet.

“I have a secret anger and rage for every beautiful flower.”

And I did too.  In secret.  In not so secret.

But the rains poured on.

Dogs all over the neighborhood were furious- barking constantly as if maybe that would restore the power.

Neighbors complained that they were stuck.  Technology had failed them.  They couldn’t get out of their parking garages.  After all, those were electric too.  Oh the convenience of technology.

Machines in the apartment blipped and beeped incessantly begging for power.

Begging for purpose.

Cars outside honked.  Impatience surrounded the neighborhood.  Everyone seemed to want to escape.

Everyone refused to shut the fuck up.

Everyone, it seemed, for once, except me.

I conserved what little power I had left on my phone.  I turned to books.  I turned to words.  I was going to sit there and face my demons in that silence.  In that quiet… oh in that quiet…

I’ve found myself missing pieces of my past quite a bit lately.  Yes yes I know, move forward, not backwards.  But something about this last time was different.  Something about this last one changed my life.

Image

Before it rained, it was like something in me knew.  I sent out a message to the world.  To you, the person I really hoped would be reading.

“It’s in the quiet that I miss you most.”

So there it was… the gift of quiet.  I sat there.. in the “dark” and thought about life.  I thought about pain.  I thought about love.  I thought about success.  I thought about failure.  I thought about…

“The manic equivalent of looking in a mirror and unplugging an appliance.”

And in the silence I just.. broke down.. but not how I thought I would.

In the simplest of terms and bits and “sound bytes”… these are not all the reasons but they are the ones I will share with the rest of the world right now.

I am tired of the pain.

I am tired of the anger.

I miss the passion.

I miss the love.

I miss the vibrancy and light that exuded from us both whenever we looked at each other.

I miss your silly Barney Rubble laugh.

It was quiet.  I grabbed a pen.  The words flowed like water.  It was a downpour of inspiration.  Rain seems to have that effect on me.

And then it happened.

Someone, somewhere not too far away started playing a piano.  Beauty came from the silence.  In a world where fingers and thoughts might have been too busy to notice otherwise there was… magic.

I smiled, still quiet, in the company of notes.  Because even if I was alone I didn’t feel alone.  It made me remember the simplicity of it all.  About how far we’ve all come from it.  About how far I’d come from it.

And myself.

“It’s in the quiet… when I miss you… when I miss me… that I find all the answers.  Of all the simple beauty.  Of why I keep trying.”

Thank you LA DWP for this forced moment of silence.  It was exactly what I needed today.

Once upon a different bed

I remember this bed.

quite possibly the most comfortable bed ever

Hell.. I miss that bed.  It was so much nicer than the one I currently have.

Well… minus the comfort there is now.

 

I remember the bed that felt almost like a throne.  It was fashionable.  It was quirky.  It was comfortable with a warm hug of softness to it.

 

This bed has it’s own set but simply just isn’t that same level of comfort.  This one I can sometimes feel the springs.  I’ve woken up several mornings to my back hurting for reasons unbeknownst sans for.. the bed.

 

I remember that bed.

I remember the stories that unfolded on it.  Of the lovers.  Of the tears.  Of the fight to grow up and face the world yet another day.  Of the soft embrace of that pillowtop mattress.  Of the safe place I knew I could always go to.

 

“Dad, I need a new bed.  The one I have is maddening.” I’d said in between that old bed on a different mattress before this one.

This bed came with it’s own doses of complications even before it arrived.  This bed was the predicate to yet another life shed.  It was a gift but it was far from that comfort I once had… once upon a different bed.

 

The old bed was a gift as well.  Welcome to Claremont.  Welcome to the next page.  You’re going to be working harder than you ever have.  Take this awesome bed.

 

This bed still had hard work attached to it.  But the work was smarter as it was harder.  The lessons I’d learn while in this bed would outweigh the other by a landslide… even if it sometimes felt like it had fallen from one before it arrived in my room.

 

I remember that bed.

I remember the many moves that it made after its first arrival.  I remember the love and pain that went with it.  I remember its departure… of the person who would later take it and tell me “your bed is wonderful” when I thought I didn’t need it anymore.

Maybe I really didn’t.

 

This bed isn’t as comfortable as that old one was.  Its had its share of pain and stress and heart… and has the scars to prove it.  But it’s amazing.  And then some.  This bed is wonderful even if it isn’t perfect.  Perhaps it is for that very fact alone.

This bed is me.

Once upon… a better me.  Every single day I get to wake up.