Blankets in Brazil

One of my close friends once told me that if I ever die she wants my wooden chest. Nope, that didn't offend me, because, yup, we are that close. The chest is currently in my living room, filled with winter blankets and some Christmas paraphernalia. It's a red-stained wooden chest with peacock's carved all around it. I love this chest. It is useless, whimsical, and lovely.

My friend told me that it would make a great hope chest. I have heard people talk about hope chests, but never had a strong grip on what exactly they are for. Hope, I assumed, but in the form of what? She told me that in the olden days women would fill the chest with things that they would need after they got married, often times filling it with handmade items like baby clothes (amongst other things). Then I realized that I had, in a way, already begun my own hope chest.

A month after the devastating news I got from the doctor, we traveled to Brazil. It had been 6 years since we had last been there. A shame, a terrible shame. But that is how life is sometimes. The last time we were there my sister-in-law was pregnant. Six years passed and we still hadn't met our niece, who we had heard was a riot. So there we were, finally in Brazil for 3 wonderful weeks.

I brought some yarn, hooks, and needles with me to work on some projects while we were there. I had just re-learned how to knit and wanted to try out a pattern for a baby blanket, and since it seemed that the entire world was conceiving simultaneously, I figured I would certainly have someone I would be able to give it to.

Over those three weeks I worked on that blanket, and I cried allot, thinking about my own fertility struggles. I shared my sorrows with my sister-in-law (who was so sweet and kind to me), and I found that as I unraveled the yarn and my thoughts, I gained clarity. I knew who this blanket was for. It was for me, for my baby, for the little one I would one day meet. When we came home in August, I folded the blanket up and put it away. Here it is below.

It is heather-gray, made out of cotton yarn, and is made in a simple basket-weave style. Makes a pretty nice shawl. But I don't use it as one. It sits in a basket, where I store the other small things I have been gathering and collecting for my little one. Things like cloth diapers, and baby clothes, and handmade booties. I had to give myself permission to buy these things, to store in my own hope "chest". Once when I was in a cloth diapering store I confessed to the salesperson that I felt silly for spending so much time in that store when I wasn't pregnant and wasn't even sure if I could get pregnant. And she was so kind in her response, "Well I have two boys, not babies, and I'm not even sure if I will ever have another baby, but when I see something that I love I snatch it up, because who knows? Maybe one day. And it makes me happy to do this and gives me hope. There is nothing wrong with that."

And so I have slowly been adding to my hope chest, stuff that I make and stuff that I buy, because it makes me happy to do so, and it gives me hope. And there's nothing wrong with that. Plus, I get a cuddly blanket. Win-Win!

Dreams

I don't usually remember my dreams. I know allot of people think that if you don't dream then something must be wrong with you, especially since dreams have so much to tell us about ourselves. But, I really don't remember my dreams. I won't say that I don't dream, because I probably do, but it is rare that I wake up remembering what was going on in my mind while my eyes were shut. Still, occasionally I will wake myself up laughing, crying, or kicking (I once slapped Jonathan in the chest because I was playing basketball in my dreams). Laughing is the best. I love those dreams. It is always better to be awaken by your own giggling.

About 6 months ago I woke up with tears, but it was the BEST. DREAM. EVER! It was around my birthday, and for some irrational reason I was convinced that January was gonna by my month. We were gonna "score a goal". So that month, of course, I was hyper-vigilant, I took my temps accurately, I made sure we were timing our husband and wifely duties well, I even put my legs up in the air afterwards to see if I could help gravity at all.

One night, after I had already ovulated, I had a dream that I had given birth. It was beautiful, and exactly how I had hoped it would be. Then, suddenly, I was sitting in my recliner and someone handed me my baby. A girl!!! She looked more like a 6 month old rather than a new born, but it was a dream so it made sense by the dream-reality rules.

As I looked down at her, I kept thinking that this little girl looked exactly like what Snow White must have looked like when she was a baby, except that in place of blue eyes she had stunning yellowish eyes. Round face, pale skin, raven hair, huge eyes, like her mama, but a golden hazel color. Gorgeous! At least I thought so. And there I was holding her, trying to get her to nurse. She struggled at first, but after a while she finally latched on. I was thrilled! All I could think was, "You're doing it, precious! I am so proud of you. You are amazing. You figured this out all on your own. Good job! I love you so much!" And as those thoughts repeated over and over in my head, tears of joy rolled down my cheeks. And that is how I woke up, with a huge smile, and a wet pillow with wet cheeks.

Over time I usually forget the dreams that I am actually able to remember upon waking. But there are a handful that have stayed with me. This is one of them. And I am so glad I have this dream to encourage me to look forward to what is still to come. While I didn't conceive in January, in a way, I did have my baby. I held her, and I was overcome by the love I felt for her. And I can't wait to meet her one day. One day.

My Pink Cadillac, well one of them...

Sometimes, I get down in this process. It can be hard, trying, and I get impatient. Then I get down and wanna throw the towel in. But then I turn to my "vision board", or my version of a pink Cadillac. You know, when a Mary Kay vendor sells a TON of stuff and reaches a certain goal of income, the company gives them a pink Cadillac. That pink Cadillac is the impetus for some of these hardworking women to not give up when the going gets tough. There are a few things that I turn to that make me happy, and smile, and remind me that it is not time to give up. Not yet. And so I now present to you one of my "pink Cadillacs". Hope this makes you as happy as it makes me every time I see it. Enjoy.

Magic- A Belly Grows from The Panic Room Videos on Vimeo.

Guilty Pleasure= Surprising Inspiration

There is no dignified way to say this, but I am addicted to a novela (Spanish soap opera). I say addicted because it really isn't that good. I've see better, fo' sho'! But I must watch it. I need to know how things will turn out with Marisa, Cristobal, and Lalo. Realizing that I can catch up with missed episode online has only made things worse. Especially since that is the main way that I watch "Una Maid en Manhattan." Yes, that translates as "Maid in Manhattan", and yes it is loosely based on the J-Lo movie, and yes it is cheesy and ridiculous, but I am addicted to it.

Honestly this started as an experiment to see if I can regain some of my lost Spanish. I have lost so much of my Spanish since moving out of my parents' home. And I really wanted to regain that language, especially to be able to use with my students' parents. On the positive- my Spanish has improved. On the negative-it has improved mostly in areas that have to do with defending ones love, seeking revenge, and speaking romantically to my lover. Not helpful at all at my job. Ha!

The good thing about watching the novela online is that I don't have to sit through as many commercials. It's kinda like watching TV episodes on Hulu. And it is the same 5 commercials nearly every time, so I have their lengths memorized. I can dash out of the room and be back in time for the novela to start up again.

One of the commercials that is in the loop is a Pampers diaper commercial (excellent marketing- they sure do know their audience, just saying). The music in it is one of my favorites. And it is also a commercial that has surprisingly been one of my greatest encouragers. It has given me such a strong sense of hope, which is surprising. I think it hilarious that a commercial can do this, even if unintentionally.

The commercial in Spanish is less than a minute long, but I couldn't find the Spanish version. So below you will find a link to the English version. The visuals are all the same just longer. The music is the same, and part that still puts the greatest smile on my face and tears in my eyes is still there.

The part that speaks to my heart is when the text reads "Whether she's 3 months early...Or 10 years late." Even now, I am tearing up. Because, this will happen, I know it. Even if it is 10 years late. And if it is, I will be as happy as the woman in that scene. That joy will be mine! I just have to trust and wait.

And that is how my novela and Pampers gave me hope. May you too find hope for without it we are lost.

Love.

The Illusion of Control

Hello, my name is Susanne, and I am a planner. I live to plan. I thrive on schedules, and checklists. I love knowing what is ahead. And, as you might imagine, I am not as gracious when handling surprises, the unexpected, things that are not within my power to change. Okay, yes, I admit it, I am a bit of a control freak.

So, of course, I had a plan for our family: when we would start it, how many kids we would have, and how it would look- as if I really had any control of this. To some extent I guess I did. I mean, I was able to use birth control (there's that world again) to decide for my body when it was allowed to carry a baby. And the plan was to stop taking the pill as soon as we were ready to start a family. So here was my checklist of things to do before we could have our family (notice the inherent assumption that this is something one simply grabs/takes when ready):

1. Finish my teaching credential (check)

2. Get a teaching job (check)

3. Buy a house (check)

4. Finish Master's degree (check)

5. Clear my teaching credential (still working on)

6. For Husband- finish school (still working on).

As you can see, there are still things that have yet to be finished. So why am I trying? Aren't I breaking my rules? What about the plan?!?!

Well, that all changed when I was given a reality check. About a year ago I had gone in for my "lady" check-up and while there I explained to the doctor that since I had stopped taking the pill (a decision I made to pursue a more natural life style) I noticed that my cycles were incredibly irregular. And, according to my charts- I had been using the basal body temperature method (BBT) to chart when I was ovulating so as to avoid an "accident"- I wasn't ovulating about half of the time. My doctor's response has forever changed my life, "Oh, you're gonna have a real hard time getting pregnant. But that's okay, right? Sounds like your life is pretty busy and you weren't really planning for this." Surprised is not the right word, shocked is getting closer, and devastated is closer still. I felt betrayed by my own body. Hello, body, we have a plan!!! Get with the program! And that, readers, is when the veil was slowly lifted off the illusion of control.

I continued and continue still to struggle with this. But I am much better at it today, more than a year after that doctor's visit. Yes, I still am a planner, but now my plans are more of a wish list than an actual itinerary. And the spirit behind the saying "God willing" has invaded nearly every corner of my life. Control was something I never really had, not to the extent I thought anyway. What a humbling experience, to be taken down from my tower of Babel.

And in the after shocks of this I have learned to trust and wait. Trust that somehow, someway I will have my family- just not the way I had planned, which is okay, more than okay. And learning to patiently wait, which is easier some days than others. Like today. Today was a good day.