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Curls

Sweaty baby hairs curling against my forehead  The nurse comes to check and says, “It’s almost time. I feel his hair.”  I am overwhelmed.  Try as I might, I could never quite guess how you would look. Suddenly I imagine one unequivocal feature.  You have hair.  And you are FINALLY almost here. Dark curls They cover your scaly, oblong, newborn head.  “Of course that’s what you look like,” I think, as they place you on my chest. I realize you’re no stranger to me.  Within weeks, the dark curls fall out; leaving naught but a ring fit for an octogenarian. In time they grow back, blonde now. Baby curls Mussy, messy, matted, mop scintillating in the sunrise streaming in as you scrub sleep from sweet little eyes.  Soft curls; fluffy, unruly, and just as perfect as you. Bath time curls Slicked straight, dripping droplets onto little eyelashes while you splish and splash; then hooded under a towel, “Peek-a-boo!”  Scrubbed and brushed and dewy, baby curls at
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Three Times a Mom

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One year ago today, I found out that I was carrying this precious little nugget. I'd love to tell you about the happy tears I cried, the jumping-up-and-down-joy I felt, the overwhelming gratitude; but that would be a lie. I was crushed. Devastated. Terrified. You see, just two short months before, I'd been in surgery to remove the remains of the last little life we had created but that my body had not sustained. After two years of trying and two miscarriages, I was traumatized and wrung out and I had no other context for pregnancy than pain. I wanted so badly to be pregnant, but when I saw that second line on the test, all I could think was, "I'm going to have another miscarriage and I won't survive it this time." The first word out of my mouth was a curse word, I called my husband crying, and I spent the weekend (and a few more weeks after that) in a depressive funk. It took me months to feel comfortable and confident and to stop being terrified of what
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Be Good

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Be good, little one. I don't have many dreams for you. I'm careful not to theorize too much about your future because I want you to have the space to dream for yourself and to feel safe telling me what gives you life and hope and passion. I dream of you being happy and my wish is that you will never suffer. I'm constantly reminding myself that this is a pipe dream and preparing myself to cry with you when life starts to hurt.  There is just one other, big dream I have for you; one thing that I desperately want for your life. I want you to be good. Not morally perfect (that's impossible anyways), but good in your core, possessing a kind heart and caring more about others than yourself. This doesn't mean you won't fuck up. It doesn't mean you won't hurt other people. In fact, you're human so your goodness won't even be consistent. You'll make the wrong choice at least as often as you make the right one and I will love you fierc
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The Second Best Day of My Life

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      Yesterday I went to my first pro football game. The Seahawks played the Raiders at home on a rainy Seattle Sunday and I WAS THERE FOR IT! I was so giddy that I allowed my husband to purchase exorbitantly priced gloves as a souvenir and felt zero buyer's remorse. I didn't even complain about being cold once, which is really a big deal for me because I'm always cold. Always. I use a space heater at my cubicle when it's 60 something degrees in the office. But yesterday I could not have cared less that I couldn't feel my toes. I was seriously on cloud nine as we joined the crowds in downtown Seattle flocking to the stadium. I was walking on sunshine. I discovered that ooooooo Heaven is a place on earth. Ok...focusing.       They say there are no bad seats at Century Link field. I began to think that "they" had lied to me as we trekked up to our seats and I could feel the field getting further away with every step. We finally stopped with only on
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