Getting Over the "B" Word

The "B" word...Yep, it's a bitch.

It comes once a year to remind me all that I haven't accomplished and all that I'm not. I can't remember actually celebrating the day of my birth since I turned 16. Sure, there were dinners and cakes on April 21st every year after my "sweet sixteen"...but I mean really celebrating.

The kind of celebration that comes from genuine joy, gratitude, and acceptance.

So, with some coaching from the lovely Andrea Maurer , I have decided that I am going to have a fabulous birthday. I'm going to let go of the irrational fear of someone knowing my age. I have no expiration date and the things I have done, or not done, do not define me.

I am something more than some damn number....and to prove to myself that I deserve to celebrate my presence on this planet, here are 30 reasons I am celebrating, one for every year I've been a student to the universe:

1.       I believe that everything will line up. Always. Perfectly.

2.       I am no longer willing to wait for happiness to start.

3.       I am blessed with two amazing, beautiful, little humans who have pushed me to survive the darkest of dark days.

4.       I have the ability to create my own happiness.

5.       I can, and I was created to, follow my heart, my soul, and my dreams.

6.       I don’t have to stop dreaming…ever.

7.       I have parents that don’t always agree with my opinion, or my choices, but will love me anyway.

8.       I choose to believe that I am enough. I am good enough, smart enough, and pretty enough. Always and in every situation.

9.       I can ask for help and still be enough.

10.   I understand what faith is.

11.   I have been to my personal hell and made it back, better than ever.

12.   I am not defined by my body, my bank account, or my actions.

13.   Every negative situation I have been in has led to something of absolute perfection.

14.   I am a work in progress.

15.   I am exactly where I should be.

16.   I choose to be overwhelmed to the point of near paralysis by the feelings of love, gratitude, and acceptance rather than fear, guilt, and shame.

17.   I am guided by cosmic forces unseen, but felt so strongly.

18.   I choose to love my spirit.

19.   I am not, nor do I need to be, perfect, right, or even graceful.

20.   I have made peace with not knowing the outcome of every step I take.

21.   I am grateful and happy with what I have.

22.   I am so excited about, grateful for, and looking forward to all the things I don’t have yet.

23.   I have the ability to love…fully, truly and unconditionally love myself and others.

24.   I am flawed in the ways I am meant to be flawed.

25.   I will continue to heal, learn, and grow…even when it hurts.

26.   I understand there is no finish line, just a great journey.

27.   I am grateful for every moment I spent in my hell and how sweet it makes everything feel now.

28.   I have the most amazing, supportive, beautiful friends ever.

29.   I have learned how to trust myself and navigate my way to the right path every time.

30.   I am empowered in every way I once thought I wasn’t.

And as if those reasons weren't enough....I am one year closer to wearing red with purple, high heels with track suits, dunking cheese balls in Pepsi as if it is a gourmet meal for breakfast, and not giving a damn what anyone else thinks about it. Gotta love that!

I'm Forever Her Fool



For my Mahalia Ann, who made me her fool when she entered this world April 1, 2004, and who continues to do so every single day. Happy Birthday Snuggle Bear. I love you to the Moon and back, and back, and back, and back...

 April Fool's Day, 2004.....I had so hoped it wouldn't be that day. The day before would have been acceptable. The day after would have worked too. Really, any day would have been better. Or so I thought.
After labor was induced and every possible visualization exercise was completed, and nearly 24 hours had passed since my water was broken, I was ready to take April Fool's Day.
But I wasn't the least bit prepared for the way it was about about to take me. I mean in a practical sense, we were ready. We had the cradle, the rocking chair, the funky multi-color paint design in her bedroom, the John Lennon bedding that "she just has to have," and a stockpile of diapers and wipes. But in the non-practical sense - I was clueless about what was about to happen.
I had this image in my head....like the heavens were going to sing, the sun was going to shine, birds would chirp, and this happy hippie music would fill the room as a doctor quietly and gracefully lay this beautiful, baby girl on my stomach and I would cry uncontrollable tears of joy.
But Mother Nature must have been feeling the spirit of April 1st in every way imaginable, because that was not at all what happened....except for the tears...they were not joyful, but they sure were there.
I wasn't supposed to be induced. I wasn't supposed to be worried. It was supposed to be perfect.
The reality was, it wasn't perfect. She may not be perfect. I had to be induced, earlier than the doctor wanted, because they suspected a heart defect that could have required surgery immediately, if not later. But, somehow between the last ultra sound and this day, Mother Nature and her sick sense of humor had resolved that issue...(THANK GOD!) she just forgot to tell the mess of a soon-to-be-mother laying at a big hospital in a lot of pain.
And, I was only having one child...as far as we knew. But sometime in the 9 or so months leading up to the week that the doctor said it was safer outside than inside, we had been having two children. I haven't accepted that this was part of the April Fool's joke....nor do I believe that Mother Nature could ever be that cruel. But it was definitely among the shocking news I received on 4/1/04.
The surprises didn't stop there either.
She was so tiny. I assumed I was having a chunky, solid, baby....one suited for a Michelin Tire commerical. Instead, I remember seeing her across the room, NICU nurses surrounding her, and each of their hands seemed so close to the same size, or bigger than, her entire body. She looked like a bird. A little baby bird......Helpless. And strapped to a bed across the room with oxygen and tubes going in my nose and arms, freshly made gash across my stomach, shaking and crying, I was pretty damn helpless myself.  Realizing how helpless I actually was in the coming days would be another joke (and way too painful and gross to re-hash in writing.) 
Leaving the hospital made this all the more clear. We had this tiny little person strapped in an infant seat and we had to take the interstate home....sick joke. I cried....or continued crying I should say, since I 'm not sure that the tears ever actually stopped.  This life was just given to us and we were going to take all 4 lbs., 11 oz. of it to chance on I-65? REALLY? I remember asking, "Can't we take backroads? Isn't there another way home?" No dice. So I cried. She cried. And we had to have her back the next morning for bloodwork. How could I do this again? How was I going to survive this car ride, let alone wake up and do it all again?
Yep, I was hooked. This 5 lb. miracle had my by the throat. I was her fool. The funniest thing is that it just never stops. Each day I am more hooked than the next. At 3 months she rolled off my bed. I was there, tears and all, to pick her up. At 10 months, I guided her first steps. At doctor appointments for shots I held her hand, and cried with her. At 5 I signed her up for kindergarten. Each moment like this, and every seemingly non-important one too, for the next 7 years, has made me that much more her fool.
When I think about my relationship with my mom...how I know there's no place too far, nothing too hard, and no way she could love me less, I know there's no way it could be different...so I'm content if not over-joyed to stay forever her fool.