i can tie my shoes all by myself

i have a confession.

September is our first (real) double-income month since August, 2006, and while it's amazing to have a second income (and an increased clothing budget!) i'm feeling all weird about it.

weird in the sense that this really horrible thing happened to us this year, and now we're going to sit back and enjoy having more money than we know what to do with. what's funny to me about the situation is that it's pretty normal for people our age to have two incomes, to own a home, etc., but i feel like we're just so incredibly lucky to be able to participate in that.

truthfully, we're not going to live on both incomes. we'll ramp up our giving to the church and other organizations we feel need help. we'll save more than we ever have before. we'll pay off a student loan or two. we'll actually have a real emergency fund. and of course, we'll probably eat at our favorite Mexican restaurant more often than we already do. i'll get my tooth fixed that's been broken since December.

while i'm looking forward to all of those things, something doesn't feel right. i'm not sure what it is. i think that in the back of my mind, i'm wondering if it's for real. i'm still worrying about money like i did for the past three years, even though it shouldn't be such a stressful event for me anymore.

i'm sure i'll get over it, and yes, it's a good problem to have, but it's just so weird, and it's coming at such a strange time in our lives. i'd love more than anything to be able to spoil my little baby with our extra money, but that won't be happening. i'll just have to find something else to splurge on. maybe i'll find a hobby. maybe i'll pray about it.

if there were such a thing as the "hold it together" award in my life, i would never win it.

last night, a lovely lady by the name of Shauna Niequist came to Bloomington to talk to the women of our church and community about appreciating the little things in life. and change.

after reading her first book, Cold Tangerines with my mom and sister in a long-distance book club (facilitated mostly by Tina whom always knows how to keep the conversation going) i was totally psyched to see her in person. and, my god. she's good.

it was a great night of fellowship, worship, prayer, and food (not to mention the fact that we were being served by the men of our church and didn't have to lift a finger throughout the whole event). Shauna read a few essays that may be included in her next book and they were amazing. the woman knows how to read aloud.

i sat next to Reid's mom, Toni, and by the end of almost every essay Shauna read, we were both crying like babies. doing the girl thing of pointing at each other with tears in our eyes, mouthing the words, "i know." to each other.

after her reading, Shauna was available to sign books. i waited a few minutes to get into line, not wanting to seem too eager to meet her. i made it up to the table sooner than i expected, and immediately started crying. i think i said something about how much i loved reading her book with my mom and sister, and how my baby died too, and that i felt for her. she was very nice and thanked me for sharing. too nice. i was a blubbering mess! when asked if i wanted her to write a name in the book, i just said, "no, you can just sign it." and walked away.

these kind of situations make me realize how close i still am to Raef's passing. i think that i minimize my grief quite often, not wanting to dwell on it all of the time. one of the things i've realized lately is that if i suppress that grief, and those tears, and all of the frustration building up inside of me, i'm going to miss all of the tiny, important things going on around me. i'm going to miss out on my own life.

apparently, life wasn't meant to be easy. i'm finding that many of the joys of life are hidden in the muck and the mire of our lives. when Raef was born, and we didn't know how long we'd have with him, i saw family members reunite. people who weren't really speaking to each other were now hugging in a hospital hallway. they were sharing a glass of wine and chatting after we paid our respects to that darling child.

that's not to say that seeing people hug and share a meal made me feel better about Raef dying. no. it made me feel better about the rest of life. about the possibilities that are out there, around nearly every corner. it made me think that maybe God hadn't abandoned me totally, he was showing up in my life in ways i'd never expected. sure, i lost something that can never be replaced, but i didn't lose me.

do you have kids?

i encounter this question quite often, and to be honest, my response is different almost every time.

whether i decide to tell the person that yes, i actually do have a child, but he passed away, or no, i don't have children is always a tough decision for me.

if i'm talking to someone whom i respect, but just haven't connected with in a long time, i'll say yes. yes, but he passed away about a month after he was born. i don't usually go into the fact that i knew that there was a serious problem before he was born. i don't tell the person that i was in a lot of physical pain during the last month of my pregnancy and that i don't have fond memories of it. i don't tell the person that i probably did 80% of my mourning before he was born. i usually don't even tell them my son's name. for the record, his name is Raef.

if i'm talking to a total stranger like a PATH caller, i always say no. i don't have children. then i ignore the person when they either lament that children are a lot of work and very expensive these days, or when they express that i'd probably really love to have children if i just tried. god, would i?!

if i'm talking to an acquaintance, i'm more apt to take the same approach as with a total stranger and say no. leave it at that. usually the matter is dropped anyway because other things need to be discussed. like business. business wins every time!

i just don't know the appropriate response. i don't know if i'm just being totally awful by not telling someone the truth, or being totally awful by telling the truth. i almost feel worse when i tell someone that Raef died. i usually end up consoling the other person, trying to diffuse any guilt they may feel about asking the question.

the truth is, i love talking about Raef. he was such an amazing light in my life, and still is in fact. Raef taught me what it meant to love someone unconditionally, totally. i spent so many days, hours, and minutes staring into my son's adorable preemie face that i can't imagine the outcome of my life if i hadn't had the chance to do that. i don't know where i'd be without that experience. i had the gift of 23 glorious, bright, crazy, stressful, painful, joyful NICU days with him. he really did have the cutest face. seriously. i know that if you have kids, you'll disagree with me and that's okay. your kids are cute, but mine sure takes the cake.

and that's that. morally, ethically, spiritually, physically, i am a mother. i just lack the flesh and blood child to prove it to those i don't already know.

if we don't know each other well, or just haven't connected in the past couple of years, i'll let you in on a little insight if you're interested. i blogged almost daily about our experience with Raef here. sometimes i have to go back over the many posts to come to grips with what happened to our family. sometimes it helps.

blogosphere, don't fail me now

news flash!

blogging is a great marketing tool.

today, i sat through an hours worth of someone saying that you have to be blogging if you want to have a good internet presence (and therefore better sales).

while this particular webinar was a little remedial, it was necessary for me because i've been draggin my blogging feet at work for about six months now. i guess i didn't believe that my boss would actually pay me to blog, but i guess i was wrong.

omg. where has this been for the past three years of my work-life? it's been tucked away in my personal sphere afraid to poke its head in and say, "wake up, i'm useful for reasons other than venting about your pathetic life."

in short, we're blogging now. you can find us here. and here.

and hey, if you have any questions about residential real estate, want to buy or sell a home, or just want to chat, give us a call!

pumpkins and city bumpkins

we're growing a giant pumpkin in our backyard.

it's huge already. like, really huge. and orange. and beautiful. and slightly setting on our neighbor's property but they don't care because it's a rental and nobody takes care of the lawn anyhow.

i constantly find myself worrying about the pumpkin. should we cut it off now? should we move it back onto our property? do we let it grow to a hundred pounds? will it rot where it lay? are the seeds going to be any good?

it's a pumpkin for crying out loud. the worst that could happen is that it would rot and we'd have to somehow remove it from the premises.

i think we should take the seeds and plant them in our friends' yards when they're not looking. then one day they'll wake up and have giant 100 lb. pumpkins of their own. and we'd all match. 'cause that's what's important. yeah.

what ever happened to brutality?

i know nothing of it. brutality that is.

tonight, we successfully replaced our kitchen sink, and are running our new portable dishwasher (compliments of Ton & Gar for Reid's graduation).

we don't have to wash our dishes by hand. for the first time in a long time! like, more than two years time.

it helps put things in perspective. having a dishwasher is a total luxury, but to most it's a necessity. if i showed a house to a potential buyer and it didn't have a dishwasher, i'd probably be fired. bad REALTOR!

Reid and i have a lot of luxuries that we take for granted. for example, we've been living just under 200% of the poverty level (according to the United States Department of Health and Human Services) for the last three years, and we haven't really skipped a beat in terms of being able to go out with friends for dinner, or become Wednesday Warriors at Medici. of course, we haven't taken a vacation since our honeymoon but that's like a real luxury. right?

think about it. we don't KNOW hunger. if you're reading this, you're probably sitting on a cushy couch, or you're on a boat, or you're sitting at your cushy job stealing company time. we don't know poverty. we don't know need. what we need is to take a careful look at those around us. what do they need? is it money, food, clothing, Jesus? is it you?

knicknacks and paddywhacks

and hobbies.

i just got off the phone with my dear sister, and probably bff in the entire world, and somehow, we got onto the topic of hobbies. i don't have one.

we went to a counselor right after Raef died, and the counselor asked us what we do for fun. you know, did we have any hobbies? if i remember this day clearly enough, i remember saying something dumb like, "hanging out with friends. hanging out with each other. reading."

our counselor didn't think that those were acceptable hobbies. in the least. "no!" he said, "you need to find something to fill the void left by your dead baby." (he may not have said dead baby, but that's what he would have said if he weren't wearing his counselor hat that day.) and so, we didn't go back. well, we really didn't go back because he suggested that we could really benefit from some of James Dobson's work and proceeded to make crude comments about his own wife/marriage. not the point. moving on.

i haven't given the whole hobby thing much thought until just recently. i think i'm scared that i'll be a first-year-teacher-widow and not know what to do with all of my new found free time. i'll be sitting at home watching the STYLE network, hoping that Reid is sitting in his classroom wishing he were with me. you know, doing hobby things like catching up on LOST or letting me beat him in Dr. Mario (which i actually do beat him at quite often).

i'm also scared about this whole too busy for your wife thing because we're coming out of a really dark time in our lives as a couple, and in our lives in general. nobody thinks that they'll live to see their child die. it's not supposed to happen that way; i'm still having a hard time hearing that everything happens for a reason. needless to say, this is not a time that i want to be set to the task of finding out what makes me happy. i don't think that knitting or scrapbooking will make me complacent about the fact that my husband is incredibly busy, or that my son is no longer with me.

i think back to our days in the NICU and shudder. when i hear of other moms and dads going through it, my heart breaks for them. i want to reach out and give them big hugs even though i don't know them.

possible new hobby: express myself more concisely. hobby? i think not. necessary? probably.