My Failed Family

"See how time makes all grief decay." 

- Adelaide Proctor

This time last year I was in limbo between a crappy visit to my home state of Ohio and the death of my mother. I had commented in a blog posts that maybe one day I would write my feelings about all of this but maybe not. It's been a year and I think I'm finally ready. I'm ready to say "Good bye" to certain parts of my extended family that either floated away unceremoniously or came to a fiery end.

A few months after my mom died my grandmother, heartbroken - literally, died too. Death exposes vulnerability in the living and man oh man, sometimes there are some strong reactions. Facebook is a great forum for inappropriate and thoughtless criticisms,  and email is a convenient format for impersonal rebuttal. The result was the severance of a relationship with a cousin. A few months later his mother, my aunt, passively refused to come not but a few miles down the road see me after I traveled across the country to be in Ohio. She's never met Ada and probably never will. Things are no better with my two other cousins on my moms side. One came to San Francisco a few months ago and didn't bother to even make contact.



I didn't see this coming. When I was 8 years old there was nothing you could have said that would lead me to believe that the safety net that I believed without question would always be there to catch me would absolutely vanish into thin air. Gone are the days of masses of people crowded around the table at Thanksgiving or passing out in front of a football game on Christmas day or taking turns kneading the babka for Easter. This big, close family I grew up with who were always just around has disintegrated.
All I have left is an aunt on my mom's side and my a cousin on my dad's side. I don't mean it to sound like they aren't enough, it's just a depressingly whittled down version of what I grew up with. (you're not in this head count, dad. You're kind of stuck with me whether you like it or not.)



I'm sad.

I am mostly sad for Ada who will miss out on all the security and drama of an extended family. She will have Tim's family and they are rowdy and extended and have warmly welcomed me. It's just different for me, though. I can't tell her stories about the crazy things I did with these people when we were kids.



Some good has come of this. While I have craved familial stability since my parents split up I am even more determined than ever to create it within my own little nucleus of a family. I am hell-bent on growing our family to include at least one more baby. Tradition and connectedness are always driving forces behind the decisions I make for my daughter and my family. There are so many questions I would love to ask my mom but I'll never have those answers. That won't happen to my daughter. Leaving a trail for Ada in the form of letters, picture books and this blog are something I'm dedicated to. She will have piles of evidence to prove my devotion and love for her in case I'm not around to do it in person.

Even with these ideals more finely honed, what a disappointment that my established family fell apart when people started dying. We are also failing at growing our own family (pretty sure this cycle is a bust). My failed family. 

Edit to add: seems to be a lot of confusion so I guess I wasn't clear. I do not think that my family in its present form is a failure. Rather, our attempts at adding another baby are failing. It is confirmed - this medicated cycle was not successful.



What about you? Do you have a family? Does your family make you crazy? Do you miss them?  Lay on me...they'll never read this.
Pourin' it out with Shell today.

10 Places I Love

I've been reading finallyMom's listicles for weeks now and thinking I might participate one of these days. When I saw the topic for today I thought "piece of cake". So here is my list based on the order in which they occurred to me.

1. Home - Where my husband and daughter are is my most favorite place of all. Period.

2. My Bed - When we moved to San Francisco our bed was the first thing we bought. I knew exactly what I wanted and I wasn't screwing around. Now, it's where we sleep, read, rest, dream, and cuddle our daughter. So many beautiful hours spent there.

3. New Mexico - This was, hands down, one of the best vacations we ever took. We were so broke and in grad school but we flew to Albuquerque, collected our camping gear, rented a car, and drove all over the whole state. Every corner of that place is more beautiful and ethereal than the last.


4. St. John - It's where we took our belated honeymoon. I loved everything about it. We talk about doing a live-aboard next time we go tho the Virgin Islands.


5. Hawaii - I find myself dreaming of going back. I've been only to Maui but can't imagine there is an island I wouldn't like.


6. Portland - Ever been there? Quirky, fun, and the people are actually nice. When we visited I asked Tim if he could transfer residency programs that day. He couldn't. Bummer.


7. Middle Keys - Key West seems like a test of your consumption - food, alcohol, stuff. The upper keys are where mid-westerners go to vacation or retire. Being a mid-westerner by birth, this sort of messes me up. The middle keys are just my speed - lots of ocean life, water sports, great food, and the best: peace and quiet. I do love it there.


8. Local Playgrounds - Tim and I were talking about this the other day: how much we like taking Ada to the playground. In this city, the possibilities are limitless and mothers speak of playgrounds the way foodies speak of restaurants. We will drive across town to go to a good one (plus, usually Kathi and Sarah are there).

9. Puerto Rico - Right after graduation from vet school but before I started working I went here with my friends for Diana's wedding. It was one of the most care-free, amazing times of my entire life. We swam naked in the bath-water warm ocean every night. We drank beer on the beach in the day. We sang and danced and held hands. It was an amazing time.


10. Zazie - This local restaurant is the first place Tim and I ate together before we moved to San Francisco. It was the place we ate breakfast the morning I went into labor. We have taken visitors. I sat on the front sidewalk with Katie and cried openly about my mom dying. It was the first restaurant we went to with Ada after she was born. The owner brought dinner, already plated, and champagne to our house for Tim's birthday last year when the nanny couldn't make it.

(P.S. None of these pictures were taken by me. I found them all on Google images.)

Check it out for more lists...

Cough, cough...pass the Robitussin, por favor.

Why is it that when I'm sick everything comes to a grinding halt? I'm headed into week three of a nagging, annoying cough. It would be a mistake to think I got this from my child - it's the other way around. She got it from me. Today, after 3 hours of work and a mad scramble to find someone to cover my appointments, I came home sick. I'm in bed trying desperately to stifle my coughs while listening to the "ocean" + humidifier sounds from Ada's room.

Although there has been much coughing and little sleeping in the night we are happy.

A tree in my neighborhood. Lovelife. OK, I will. 

Although Tim's laptop was stolen from his desk at work we still had a perfect day on Friday. It was my mother's birthday. I'm not going to call it anything but I will say that on that day we caught all the lights green, we got just what we needed when we needed it, the wind chimes sang quietly with Glen Millers Orchestra on Pandora, and everything I cooked tasted pretty good! In between all of this was a sick girl hugging her sick mom.

The wind chimes I hung outside our dining room window. Love the sound.

Although pregnancies are beginning and ending all around me I am at peace during this 2 week wait. Tim and I made a wish on a wish bone - the same wish. I hope it comes true and that 37 weeks from now I am holding a healthy baby in my arms. In case not, I'm ready to give it a rest for a cycle or two if this one doesn't result in a viable pregnancy. I'm just focused on loving the one I've got.



Although August in San Francisco has got to be about the most gray time of the year we are still enjoying afternoons at the playground.



Although time outside is good for all of us it means feeling the crud rattle around in my airways as I push the stroller (or worse, carrying Ada AND pushing the stroller) back up our hill. I reward myself with a warm beverage on the way to the park in anticipation of the pain on the way home.

Throwing leaves into a puddle. New form of entertainment.

Although Tim was on call for my birthday it worked out well: we have celebrated it a few different times.  One was dinner with friends at a Greek restaurant called Kokkari. I asked if someone would read my fortune in my Turkish coffee grounds. After some wavering, a tall, bald man came over to our table. He clandestinely picked up my cup, rotated it in his hand once, wrinkled his brow and asked, "Are you having a conflict?" To which I replied yes. Apparently that nasty conflict will end "sooner than you think and in your favor." Well, Amen. I hope that's true. He added, "When you leave the conflict, don't look back." Double Amen. Dude, don't worry. It may take a few months to begin to recover but leave it in the rear view mirror I will do.



Edit to add: In a Robitussin-induced haze (or maybe it was the sleep deprivation) I pushed "publish post" with no recollection of it. Perhaps that is why this post just ends. No final thoughts or anything to wrap it all up. Nope just me falling asleep and publishing the endless post. So sorry.

Go Slow: The 40th Year

"I'm beginning to learn that it is the sweet, simple things of life which are the real ones after all." 

- Laura Ingalls Wilder

When I entered my thirties I was so excited. That was the decade of life when everything was going to come together. All the uncertainty and instability of my twenties would be left in the dust while I crossed the threshold into a more confident and assured stage of life. The perfect combination had been struck between making long strides forward while still being physically young enough to thoroughly enjoy them.

The promise of the 4th decade of life played out beautifully in many ways. I finished a PhD, survived a heinous graduate experience and fulfilled my dream of becoming a veterinarian. I married my very best friend, survived the death of my mother and dove headfirst into the uncharted (by me) waters of motherhood. I moved to a new city, started a new chapter and built friendships that have sustained me. The part where I would feel confident and sure has been partially true - I suspect that I will always struggle to some degree with insecurity but it has been better.



What a powerful decade it has been...so far! Yesterday I turned 39 years old. Looking back at every wonderful thing that has happened over the past 9 years makes me more determined to finish off this decade well. In the coming year I hope to become a mother again, my husband will finish training and we will move again to create a life in the place where our children will grow up. The place they will forever refer to as 'home'.

Just as I have enjoyed this empowering decade, I have also accepted that it's OK to slow down a bit and savor it. I am no longer motivated by a deep need to be the biggest, fanciest fish in the pond except when it comes to my personal relationships.  Rather, loving my family and friends, doing right by my clients and patients, and being a generally good person is just fine to me. That is my current definition of success.



Where my thirties played out to be more-or-less what they were promised to be, I suspect that so will my forties. It would seem that as my 40th year of life begins I have a decision to make:
1. Embrace the mental programming has led us to believe that after 40 we are 'over -the-hill'.
2. Go with the newer vision which claims that the forties are the new thirties!

I don't buy it that once I hit 40 the downward spiral is set in motion. So I'm imagining what the next 10 years will look like. Luckily, I have a whole year to cook up something good. For others who have been here or who are here, I'd love to hear your thoughts. What do you imagine for the next 10 years? What do you want to do before you turn 30 or 40 or 60?