Love Your Heart

"...hear me now, love your heart. For this is the prize."
-Beloved by Toni Morrison


(heartbroken)



The walls of my mind are papered with hearts these days.

(heartsick)

My father died of a heart attack when he was 38. My mother died of lung and heart disease when she was 52. We have had an aunt and an uncle die in their 40s. And (a lifetime) 2 and 1/2 months ago, my sweet brother John's heart betrayed him.

(heartache)

I want to love my heart, but mostly I sit in the dark and listen to her beating (how many more).



I kiss my children (heart of hearts) and smile (heavy heart).
I search the faces and voices of those I love (near to my heart), desperately trying to see into their veins (get to the heart).
I keep reminding myself to focus, to care (have a heart), keep trying to be a better person (take heart).
I strive not to take my Life for granted (cross my heart).



But I have to admit that sometimes I am afraid (don't lose heart).
I still love it here (heart's content).
I want to see my children grow (pour out my heart).



And yet, I have lived an amazing Life, so full of joy and love (open-hearted) than I ever imagined when I was little (eat my heart out).
I found Chris (heart and soul), and he found me, and we saved each other in so, so many ways (heart in the right place).



I still cry easily (heart on my sleeve) and I am afraid (steel my heart), but I think I can love my heart.

Right now, I have this moment (heartbeat).
I'll take it.

Faking It...

Parenting is the greatest form of hum-a-few-bars-and-I'll-fake-it-skills.

Duma Key by Stephen King

...and fake it I do...

Today, we went to a checkup with Anthony's developmental pediatrician.  I love this guy.  I adore this guy.  I lurve this guy (Woody Allen reference).  He listens to what I am saying while looking me in the eyes.  He "gets" Anthony and cares about my boy's comfort level now and the long term view of his overall health.

Anthony has not been doing well at home the past couple of weeks.  We are back to the brittle, fragile, emotional child we had seen in the spring.  It doesn't take too much thought to come up with the reasons why.  The past two months have found us leaving him with a friend for several days, taking a week-long family trip to Michigan, taking a trip to Kentucky, and starting kindergarten.  Add that to a mommy that cries during Umi Zoomi, I think we found a reason for some anxiety.

The good news is that he is doing great at school.  He is very quiet, but will communicate.  He is not showing any abnormally anxious behavior at school.

I took that information to the doctor, and he suggested we increase the medication. I wasn't floored, but I was certainly surprised. I asked the doctor if time could make these "at-home" behaviors better, and he replied "yes, but at what cost? And how long will we have to wait for that?"

Those words helped me view this whole "medication" thing differently. I had an epiphany, as my friend Amy likes to say.

This medication is (and always has been) just a small comfort. Of course, this medication is optional. The same way a visual schedule is optional. The same way a predictable bedtime routine is optional. These are ways to help Anthony handle a world that does not make sense to him right now. Someday, he will be able to fill in these holes for himself. We thought so long and hard about medicating Anthony, that it was easy to overlook the long-term benefits of creating a childhood for him that was not completely awash in fear and confusion.

Of course I am faking it. But I realized today that every parent is faking it. None of us really have concrete answers. We show up (as my sister-in-law Rose often says), we love these little people as hard as we can, and we fake it...

The Threshing Floor

But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all your laughter, and weep, but not all your tears.

The  Prophet by Kahlil Gibran

This is one of my favorite quotes. (I know.  I say that often.  I love quotes.)

I have very few items on my bucket list, save this last phrase.  I very much want to "laugh all my laughter and weep all my tears."  It is my best hope for my Life.  I have seen too many people I love shellac their hearts after loss out of fear and pain.  I can't say I don't understand.  I can't say it isn't tempting.  But I want to choose differently. (timshel)

As Hurricane Grief continues to shake my roots, I am pretty sure I am weeping all my tears.  I cry at the drop of a hat.  No yoga session is without tears.  Very few rides into work are dry-eyed.  I am so uber-sensitive to casual remarks that tears sometimes appear in my eyes before I can fight them back.  

Lately, though, the saltwater rain passes more and more quickly.  I am learning not too fight too hard.  

I am learning to just let the storm wash over me.  It means letting people see me cry in places like Wal-Mart. (Just don't tell me if you see me on the people of Wal-Mart website, please.)  It means crying in my van.  It means crying in more public places than I ever have.  Sometimes it is embarassing, but not nearly as much as I thought it would.  No one really stares (especially in Wal-Mart).

As a painful as it is, I trust myself.  I can make it through with my heart open.  My world is not seasonless...  I am so grateful to be here.

So grateful that I cry at Born This Way (I know.  I said that before.  I still cry.  Those lyrics get to me.)

So grateful that I choke up when I am with my friends that I love so much.

So grateful that I tear up when Anthony's teacher sends home a note to tell us he's been announcing the "weather report" in his class every morning over the microphone.  It justs makes me so proud that he is brave enough to talk in front of his class like that.

This process is hard.  As my sister-in-law says, "we hurt so much because we love so much.  And it is worth it.