Desert Laura

I've stayed away from this space for quite some time.  Still not sure if I'll be back at writing again.  I've tried to come back with some profound words or updates on my life.  But I've been busy holding my breath.  Today I'm 38 weeks and 2 days pregnant.  The eve of the birth of my rainbow baby is just around the corner.  Our little daughter should arrive this week, hopefully.  I can't express the range of emotions I've gone through during these past almost 10 months.   I've spent the past 9 months going to way-too-many doctors appointments, having way-too-many ultrasounds, taking way-too-many vitamins and giving myself way-too-many injections of blood thinning medicine.  It's the farthest thing from my hands-off approach I imagined I'd have during this pregnancy.  No midwife this time, no birth center is scheduled.  Instead, we have a doctor that comes into our appointments with a huge file with my name on it.  There's ...

Four months ago today I delivered my son  at St. Joe's Hospital.  I held his body in my arms and saw him for the first/last time.  After 20 hours of labor and 4 weeks of anxiety and fear, little Nico left this world before really ever having a chance to see it.  I still cannot believe it's been 4 months.  I sometimes cannot believe that I've made it through today , still walking and working and living and breathing and sometimes even laughing.  I can go back to that day and the days prior like it was just yesterday and I'm flooded with the same feelings of sadness and grief.  We have a long journey ahead of us, but we're getting there. We just finished celebrating Thanksgiving, a time of giving thanks, a time of being thankful.  But I kept thinking "I cannot be thankful, there is nothing only emptiness and sadness."  How do we begin to celebrate this day when my son is dead?  What goodness is there in my life to be thankful for ri...

October 10th was Nico's due date.  It came and went, and I'm still alive and well.  I made it through the day, not knowing how or what I would do to get by.  The anticipation was worse than the day itself.  The anxiety those days leading up to the 10th must be similar to that of an expectant mother, anxious for the day her baby will be born.  It's very odd to know that I share these similar feelings, but with the full realization that my baby won't   be born on this day.  That he has already come and gone. Yet the anticipation is still there.  It's like my mind still going through the motions of planning/preparing for a birth that will never be/already happened.  Mr. C and I took the afternoon off work and spent some time at the Desert Botanical Gardens.  I wasn't ready for a desert hike but wanted to be surrounded by the desert and its smells and colors.  So the Botanical Gardens was a perfect place to go.  I ...

" That which is to provide light must endure burning ." - Victor Frankl  Me and my co-workers went to a Compassion Fatigue workshop this week - the new word for burnout .  I went because I thought it could be useful information to pass on to new No More Deaths volunteers or old ones, the ex-pats , as I call them.  The group of volunteers who committed many years and time and energy to the work only to leave it after putting everything they had into it.  But during the workshop I realized that the signs of compassion fatigue they talked about were very familiar to me and what I experienced.  So, the workshop was pretty kooky at times, and I didn't walk away with many answers or insights.  At one point, we did an exercise where we had to sit on our hands and relax our sphincter muscles...oh god, what did I get myself into?  Apparently, sphincter relaxation helps our body during times of stress and is a suggested practice when we're having a tough day....

Today I'm 18 weeks pregnant.  Well past my first trimester, so I feel that I can now write a bit about everything that went on during that time.  Maybe I'll start when I first found out we were pregnant.  My day at work started out pretty typical, when I suddenly felt faint as I was trying to stand up.  I seriously almost passed out!  I went to visit the school nurse who took my blood pressure and told me I was fine.  Clue number one. The day of my period, it didn't come...at all.  But I had all the pre-period signs:  bloated belly, sore breasts, moodiness.  Clue number two. I went on-line and looked up "early signs of pregnancy"  and it read "bloated belly, sore breasts, moodiness."  Clue number three. Those first 10 weeks were really difficult both emotionally and physically.  I was so incredibly tired all the time, ate non-stop, and had pretty severe cramping for weeks.  I was lucky enough to miss the whole "m...

I love Mary Oliver.  I love that her writings, her poetry somehow touches me very deeply.  It could be my intense emotions these days, but I've always liked her work.  And, if you want to buy me any nice gifts, I'd love some of her books! The Journey One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice-- though the whole house began to tremble and you felt the old tug at your ankles. "Mend my life!" each voice cried. But you didn't stop. You knew what you had to do, though the wind pried with its stiff fingers at the very foundations, though their melancholy was terrible. It was already late enough, and a wild night, and the road full of fallen branches and stones. But little by little, as you left their voices behind, the stars began to burn through the sheets of clouds, and there was a new voice which you slowly recognized as your own, that kept you company as you...

It's time for resolutions, right?  Not for me.  For me, I make resolutions every day, week, month, of the year.  I make my lists of what needs to be done, what I'd like to do better or differently.  Instead, I look at what I want to accomplish this year that I didn't do last year, what I'd like to continue doing, or what needs changing.  This happens throughout the year...through constant reflection and insight. I cannot help but be grateful for this last year; it gave me so many wonderful things.  The most significant being a wonderful partner who I'm lucky to share my life with.  Not to mention that I learned how to raise chickens, and how to cook amazing vegan food. I baked more bread than I could eat; I started crafting more than just scarves; I learned that I'm not always right; I learned how to let go of someone I love dearly and let her die with grace and peace.  I learned how to put balance back in my life, when to say no...and...

So I'm seeing a counselor.  It's not a bad thing, really.  I actually like to go every month to chat.  I mean, I'm a social worker and being a counselor is what I do.  So why shouldn't I have some time to be on the receiving end of things for a change?  Lately, the conversations have been about my family (actually, they're usually about my family).  But getting married brings up lots of things that I'd like to think I've resolved, put away in a nice box wrapped snuggly in pretty tissue, never to come out again.  Normally, 6 out of 7 days, the box stays put.  My life is good, healthy, happy. But now that I'm getting married I find myself dealing with my box of old family stuff. I never pretend or claim that I have a typical, functional family.  I think most of my friends know otherwise.  So it's no surprise that I've tried to live the last 14 years of my life in the healthiest way possible.  That means finding some distance b...

8/31/10 Nerina will turn 15 in February.  But I don't know if she'll make it to her next birthday.  The past 2 weeks have been trying for us as we've been dealing with Nerina's apparent seizures. This week, she' s been having "petit mal" seizures daily, that last about 5-10 minutes each.  Her head just starts shaking and twitching as we watch helplessly.  She lays down and we hold her while she goes through this awful time.  The first time it happened, I just cried thinking she was about to die.  I thought she was having a heart attack and would die right there, in my arms.  But she didn't.  Instead when the tremors stopped, she just got up, walked over to her bed and went to sleep.  All day long, I prepared myself to call the doctor to put her out of her misery.  But l ater in the day she greeted me at the door, tail wagging, brushing her muzzle into my leg as though to give me a big, sloppy, wet kiss.  Not only was she...

Have you ever had days when you just wanted to close the door, turn off your phone, hang your 'do not disturb' sign, pop open a glass of wine and just walk away from everything outside?  Today, I wish I could have done that.  I'm a social worker in a high school.  Drama, chaos, sadness and angst defines my population every day.  Most days I'm fine.  I can hear their sadness and feelings of loneliness and offer support, a shoulder, suggestions, advise, or just a kleenex.   But then there are other days, like today, when all of it is just too much to hear.  I think that's when I know I haven't been taking good care of myself.  When I've been worrying about everyone else before worrying about myself.   I wish I had a button to just turn off my mind from all this worry.  I take after my mother, for sure. She thinks and over-thinks situations that have not happened yet, nor would they ever happen.  For me, I'm constantly wondering...

So my friend turns 30 in two days. It's not unusual for me to give him some guff about getting old, especially since he's a bit nervous about it. You know, the typical scare tactics like "say good-bye to your life as you know it" or "it's all downhill from here" or mentioning the wrinkles, sags, hair loss (which he lost quite a while back) lack of youthfulness. It's all fun and games until you start to think, wait, I'm almost 40! Ok, so I'm not that close to 40, but 36 is close enough. In 4 years, I'll be 40...ughh. Now, keep in mind that none of the things that I say about turning 30 actually happens to me...only a few more wrinkles, the hair is still there, no sagging here, and I feel more youthful now than I did in my mid-twenties. Of course, I do things that help me feel young. I'd say half of the people I know are about 10 years younger than me. This has it's advantages and disadvantages , which is quite complicated...

I heard this poem by Rumi on fasting, it seems relevant to those who are fasting this week for the Anti-Joe Arpaio week of action. 10 people are fasting to call attention to the things that Arpaio is doing to this community; to raise greater awareness of how the Hispanic community is being targeted by the Sheriff. It's also relevant as I come back from my few days off...for reflection. I love Rumi. There's hidden sweetness in the stomach's emptiness. We are lutes, no more, no less. If the soundboxes stuffed full of anything, no music. If the brain and belly are burning clean with fasting, every moment a new song comes out of the fire. The fog clears, and new energy makes you run up the steps in front of you. Be emptier and cry like reed instruments cry. Emptier, write secrets with the reed pen. When you're full of food and drink, Satan sits where your spirit should, an ugly metal statue in place of the Kaaba. When you fast, good habits gather like friends w...

My little hut on the mountain OK, finally, I'm over it. The fog I've been feeling is gone . vanished. I was talking to a friend the other day about how social workers really do a horrible job of taking care of ourselves. Our lives, our work, consume us. Plus, I'm good at telling everyone else how to relax, but I stink at it. So, little by little, over the past 6 months or so, I've been feeling like my emo kids at school...I had the FUNK. And I couldn't get out of it. So, 2 weeks ago instead of going to the desert to volunteer during my vacation, or to Disneyland with my sister and her family, I went to Cascabel Hermitage in Cascabel, Arizona. Yup, hermitage. On Wednesday, I hiked 1/2 hour up a mountain escorted by Daniel my caretaker, plopped atop a mountain mesa with two 10 gallon jugs of water, a table, cot, chair and tent ramada, and left to my own accord until Saturday. Daniel showed me how to use the "toilet" and said he'll see me down the ...

As another Valentine's Day passes, I start to think ahead for what I'll do for next year's event. I can hardly believe that it's been 3 years already since my first anti/alternative V-day extravaganza occurred. It started as a chocolate and wine party...the perfect setting for friends to come over and share stories, relax and enjoy each others company. Oh, and I remember that we burned items that our ex-lovers gave us. That was a nice highlight. Just a side note: chocolate Hershey's lips don't burn and give off a strange glow when on fire. So on this day, during this week, I celebrate all things lovely - and with that, all the things that I love and am grateful for in my life. This year, 12 close friends and family gathered at my house for a dinner party. I prepared a meal for everyone; about 80% of the food came from local farms or the Market. And everything was Italian-inspired. Since most of us were going to run the 1/2 marathon the next day, I thoug...

That time I thought I could not go any closer to grief without dying I went closer, and I did not die. Surely God has His/Her hand in this, as well as friends. Still, I was bent, and my laughter, as the poet said, was nowhere to be found. Then said my friend Daniel (brave even among lions), "it's not the weight you carry but how you carry it - books, bricks, grief - it's all in the way you embrace it, balance it, carry it when you cannot, and would not, put it down." So I went practicing. Have you noticed? Have you heard the laughter that comes, now and again, out of my startled mouth? How I linger to admire, admire, admire the things of this world that are kind, and maybe also troubled - roses in the wind, the sea geese on the steep waves, a love to which there is no reply? poem by Mary Oliver

Sometimes I think I have my mother's hands. While hers are remarkably soft and white, mine are calloused, tan and rough. But we both share the wrinkles that come from age, in addition to burns, cuts, scrapes and bruises, from cooking, cleaning (and in my case gardening...my mother hates to garden). But more often now I think I'm not a whole lot like my mother. I'm not a mother nor a wife. I've never had to sacrifice the things she has for her husband and children. I've never been forced to choose between those two and live with that decision for quite some time. I wish I was more like her. I wish I shared her grace, poise, patience, and hope. These days, I work to make my mother proud of me, if only she could see herself in me just a little bit. I wondered what she thinks when people ask about her daughters. What does she say about me? Does she say "I have 2 lovely daughters, both are married to handsome men and have beautiful, amazingly gifted chi...

Step 1: document what you believe has happened and what you need to forgive Step 2: Acknowledge the way the incident made you feel Step 3: Recognize who is being hurt by your unforgiveness Step 4: Acknowledge the part, if any, you played in the incident Step 5: Acknowledge both positive and negative parts of the relationship Step 6: Write a letter to the person who has wronged you. THIS LETTER IS NOT GIVEN TO THE PERPETRATOR (okay, that's the "official" thing to say, but if it's not incredible hurtful, mail it) Step 7: Crate a ceremony to rid yourself of the letter, symbolizing the end of your hurt (like hitting 'send' on an e-mail, or putting a stamp on the envelope...that should do it) Step 8: Understand that forgiveness is a process and some of the feelings may manifest themselves again. This is not unusual, but creating a method of reducing your anger is helpful ( and drinking should not be one of your healthy methods, as much as you like your red wine...

First of all, I'm the first to say that I make a very bad therapist. I'm a pretty good social worker, but as far as therapy goes...I stink. Here are some reasons: Some would say it's good to write a letter to someone you hate and tell them all that's on your mind/in your heart; but don't mail it! But I say, mail it! What's the point in writing it if you don't get the satisfaction of knowing they've read it and know exactly how you feel? Now, I know that it won't mean much and not to expect anything from them, but it does feel good knowing they've heard your feelings. Some say it's not healthy to check the voice mail messages of your ex's, follow them, sneak up on them, or check their computer history. I say, how else would you know what they've been up to? I mean, really. You can't trust people these days, especially an ex or a "soon to be" ex. It helps to be aware of their habits because when there's a brea...