This weekend my mom, sister, and I reunited in NYC together for the first time since I was 16. Each of us had been back, but never all together. It was just what we needed. In no particular order, here are the 10 Best Things from the weekend. (click any photo to biggify)

1. The High Line – a new-ish park build on an old, elevated rail line that runs up along 10th Avenue. It was so super fantastic that we walked half of it one day, and went back and walked the other half the next day. It’s a great way to see the city from a different vantage point, plus it’s interesting to think about urban architecture and do some people watching.

2. Wicked – This has been on my wishlist for years and I finally got to see it on Broadway! (Thanks, Mom!) It was crazy good and I’m in love with Elphaba. I want to buy the soundtrack and play Defying Gravity on repeat.

3. Shopping. My sister bought me a long, pretty gold necklace from Artists & Fleas at Chelsea Market. It was like Etsy-In-Person so I pretty much wanted one of everything. I’ll snap a photo of the necklace as soon as I’m wearing it with a cute outfit.

4. Our little Chelsea apartment, thanks to Airbnb.com. We were perfectly located to be able to walk downtown (on Saturday), uptown (on Sunday), and up 60 stairs (every day — it’s on the 4th floor). We had plenty of room for the three of us, plus a kitchen, internet, TV, etc. I love staying in apartments and living like a local. We walked so much each day that each night we ended up back at the apartment early for a little couch time piled on each other.

5. 9/11 Memorial. Still under construction, but allowing visitors. I’d like to see it again when it’s all finished and the trees are blooming.

6. Catching breakfast with a friend before I boarded my train home on Monday. Every Monday should begin with a cappuccino, a biscuit, and a dear friend, don’t you agree?

7. Speaking of breakfast — real NYC bagels on Sunday morning. I brought some back for my freezer for a weekend treat, too.

8. Banana cake with cream cheese frosting from Billy’s Bakery. The thing that tweets and dreams are made of. We loved the first piece so much we went back for another piece the next night.

9. Shopping, part 2. I walked into DSW wearing old, stinky, ratty shoes that I L-O-V-E, and walked out with a brand new, exact same pair, purchased for 50% off. I slipped on the new pair, tossed the old pair into a trash can on the sidewalk, and walked another few miles.

10. Just hanging with my mom and sister.

So! Adventure awaits us this spring and summer. I’m really excited. (Understatement of the year.)

First up: The Equator (or darn close to it). In April, Andrew and I are headed to off-the-beaten-path Costa Rica for 8 nights of treetop & surfer beach living. We rented a house on VRBO from a woman named Sunshine. I love her already.

Next up: The Arctic Circle (actually, NORTH of it). A dozen family members are headed to rural Norway for beautiful sights and genealogical lessons. On the way home, Andrew and I will stop in Iceland for a couple of days. Just because we can!

Do any of you have trips planned for this spring or summer? I’d love to hear where you’re going. And if you want to spend a week cat sitting vacationing in DC, let me know. We have vacancies!

Just sharing a couple of things I’ve read and loved lately, and maybe, if you’re going through a tough time, they’ll give you a little peace, too…

One of my resolutions for the new year was to live my life and not compare it so much to the lives of others. As I’m sure you can imagine (babies! everywhere!) this is really difficult. But I love this advice from Carolyn Hax:

How do I stop the “Woe is me!” voice in my head? My best friend is expecting, and another good friend engaged. I’m going through a rough divorce and major depression (I’m being treated). Their happy news makes me feel terrible about myself, which also makes me feel terrible. I want to be happy for them. I just don’t know how.

…

Depression puts everything through the “It’s all about me” funnel. Your friends’ happiness underscores your failures; their struggles are one more thing to worry about; your own bad news proves nothing in your life goes right; your good news proves that even good news can’t cheer you up; the bad weather is just the cosmos piling on; the sunshine is the cosmos flipping you the bird, rubbing beauty in your face. It is relentless.

But, more important, it’s not true. It’s a deceptive filter through which you receive (and everyone else with depression receives) the random, unrelated messages of the outside world. When you aren’t depressed, bad things don’t suddenly become good, but you’re able to see them as the isolated incidents they are, as opposed to elements of a vast conspiracy of pain.

Even if you know this — or just take my word for it — that won’t automatically render you able to cheer for your friends, but it’s a start. When you’re forced to process other people’s milestones, keep reminding yourself that neither bad feelings nor good ones are permanent. Celebration is a moment, as is grief. Everyone gets to happy points through miserable points of their own.

If you find that hard to believe, then force yourself to recall the times these friends have leaned on you. “Happily ever after” isn’t something that actually exists; it’s just lazy storytelling.

I suppose it’s theoretically possible for someone to get through life without genuine suffering (and not be a psychopath) — but would you even want to be that person, or be close to that person? Who has never felt emotional pain, who can’t sympathize with it, and who will never really know how good it feels to feel good?

This is not to glorify suffering but instead to celebrate the transience of all emotional states.

Read full reply here.

If step one is realizing that no one is living a fairy tale – even if it seems like they are because of Facebook, then maybe step two is embracing the richness and complexity that comes through grief and loss. From A Blog About Love, I found some quotes on happiness from the woman who developed the stages of grief. Here are a few:

“Learn to get in touch with the silence within yourself and know that everything in this life has a purpose.”

“The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern.  Beautiful people do not just happen.”

The next time someone looks at me funny when I cry in public, I’ll just tell them I’m on a journey to becoming a beautiful person. A beautiful person with mascara running down her face.

{photo credit}

I think tonight I’ll light a candle for him and have a quiet evening at home. Maybe I’ll write him a letter in my journal.

I’m not living the life I planned, but I am trying my best to live a full life. I will always love and miss Miller, my first baby and first son.

{photo by flickr user jjpacres}

•••

Spring in War-Time

Now the sprinkled blackthorn snow
Lies along the lovers’ lane
Where last year we used to go -
Where we shall not go again.

In the hedge the buds are new,
By our wood the violets peer -
Just like last year’s violets, too,
But they have no scent this year.

Every bird has heart to sing
Of its nest, warmed by its breast;
We had heart to sing last spring,
But we never built our nest.

Presently red roses blown
Will make all the garden gay . . .
Not yet have the daisies grown
On your clay.

-Edith Nesbit, 1916.

We went out for a nice dinner and then I told him we were going to a concert at the Rock and Roll Hotel, which is not a hotel at all but rather a concert venue and bar. We decided to “grab a drink” upstairs before heading in to see the band, and that’s where Andrew was met with approximately 35 friends and family members all yelling Surprise!

It was amazing to see so many people who love (and love to hate) him all in the same room. It was like a mini version of our wedding when we were overwhelmed with happiness in being in one place with so many people we love all at once.

Because Andrew is a pollster, I had this bright idea of polling his friends and family and presenting the results at the party. Thank goodness for my friends who have expertise in writing polls, designing Power Point slides, working a projector, and making funny jokes. They really helped me pull it together and it was a huge hit.

Here is an example of two of the slides from the survey results.

I added in a few other dorktastic touches, like these custom buttons with “Andrew-isms” on them. They were sort of like a party favor/conversation piece all in one. Etsy seller Sofia from Buttonlandia was fantastic to work with. Aren’t these too cute?

We also had Crunkcakes which are cupcakes made with booze. Oh, yes. Bourbon/bacon/maple, funfetti/marshmallow vodka/Bailey’s buttercream, chocolate/espresso liqueur, and more. Because an open bar was not enough alcohol.

We had our own private area at the bar away from the hoards of 22-year-old drunk booty dancers. We held an old folks dance party instead!

Would you rate those dance skills shown above as Excellent, Good, Bad but not mockworthy, or ‘Get it on a Flip cam and post it on YouTube’ terrible?

Survey results indicate that I will likely not do anything like this again for at least 20 years. But I love him a ton and am glad so many people had the chance to celebrate with us this weekend.

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Painting my nails “watermelon” feels pretty good.

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The less pregnant I am the more I think about baby names. This makes no sense, but right now I’d like to name my non-existent children Felicity and Whit. Don’t even try to argue with the cuteness of that duo.

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I’m trying to fill my life up with fun things. This weekend I’m taking my sweetie out to a new restaurant for his birthday. Next month I’m meeting up with my mom and sister in NYC and we’re seeing Wicked. If anyone has suggestions for what my next happy thing should be, let me know : )

—

Good TV show: New Girl. You should be watching it!

Even better idea: Come over to my house and watch it with Andrew and me. We will all giggle on the sofa together.

—

My mood is on a pendulum that swings between feeling ridiculously grateful for any kindness offered to me, and wanting to punch everyone else in the face.

—

If Facebook forces me to adopt their fugly “timeline” for my profile, I’m going to quit. Yep, that’s a threat.

—

You know you’re old when you get excited about….refinancing your house. For the third time. But yay for saving money!

And this is the end of boring mortgage talk forever and ever, okay?

—

Lovely friends, tell me some random useless tidbits from your lives. Please keep me entertained until the weekend is here!

How am I supposed to be truly happy with what I have, and accept my life as is, if something I want so badly is missing?

How am I supposed to find/create what is missing, while also having happiness and acceptance of life without it?

How can I take a step back, relax, and accept things as they are, when (for us) the process of making a baby requires what feels like endless persistence and perseverance?

How can I do everything possible to try to create a new life, when all I really want is the life my son was supposed to have?

Do I spend my limited mental and emotional energy on healing and acceptance, or on persistence and toughness?

—-

I will pay you one million dollars if you can answer these questions for me. They keep me up at night. In the meantime, a daffodil has bloomed on my street. I hope that means the real and the metaphorical Spring are near.

Things I’ve been loving in January:

• My shiny new MacbookPro. Sure, it technically belongs to the office, but I am having no problem at all pretending that it’s mine.
• Global warming. I don’t actually like global warming, but I have been loving our warm winter. It was 64 degrees here today! I wore open-toed shoes! I believe that probably we are all screwed and should move northward and inland, but in the meantime, I’ll enjoy it.
• The book Zeitoun. It was chosen for my February book club and I was smitten right away once I heard it was about New Orleans, during and after Katrina. But it’s about so much more. It’s non-fiction but reads like an adventure novel. The story follows a Syrian-American man and his family during the storm, the flood, and through a Homeland Security/FEMA disaster that more closely resembled Guantanamo Bay than Bourbon Street.
• Spinach & Artichoke Dip. My friend Alyssa over at Everyday Maven was kind enough to take a special request from me. I wanted a healthified version of cheesy spinach dip, and she totally came through. I highly recommend this for the Super Bowl party you are hosting or attending. (Also, I’ve been eating it for lunch all week, with red bell pepper dipping sticks, and it’s the best homemade lunch I’ve had in awhile.)
• Homemade breakfast sandwiches. On Sundays I’ve been making breakfast sandwiches in bulk for the week ahead. Ingredients: whole wheat english muffin (toasted then cooled), 1 piece turkey bacon or 1 patty of Morningstar fake sausage (cooked then cooled), and then I make a thin fritatta (you could add cheese or veggies or just do egg whites) and use the rim of a drinking glass to cut the egg into circles. Assemble, saran wrap, freeze, and reheat!
• Living life like I’m 21 years old again. Going to bars in Adams Morgan, sake bombs, sleeping in til noon, eating frozen waffles, hanging out with my friends talking about life/boys/clothes, etc. It’s not so bad.
• Bright pink tights paired with a dark gray skirt and a black sweater. Y’know, before it became 64 degrees.

Here’s a view from my parents’ newly finished “retirement” “cabin” (both words meant to be taken lightly). Apparently it’s winter somewhere!

Tell me, what are you loving right now?

There was the time we did six word memoirs. Do any of you remember those? There are some gems in the comments.

There was the time I shaved my eyeball with a razor and ended up with an eye patch (and later with LASIK and 20/20 vision so we can consider it a happy accident).

There was the time my comments got a little crazy when I told you guys the s-e-x-u-a-l poem that Andrew wanted read at our wedding. Good veto, friends.

There was the ordinary Wednesday afternoon that we snuck out of work and got married at the courthouse.

And perhaps my favorite post of all time, writing about falling in love over the course of six Valentine’s days.

There’s more, too. Drunken girlfriend weekends, crafty endeavors, buying a house, beautiful vacations. In 2010 and 2011 the fog of infertility crept up on me. And then a little bit of hope and happiness for awhile, and then the loss. Now I feel like a black cloud follows me everywhere. It shadows all of my thoughts and words. It owns me and I hate it.

One day I’d really like to be a happy person again. If I had to write my six word memoir today, it would be: Things will never be the same.

Farewell to the cherries, which I loved dearly for many years. It just felt like time for a fresh, new look.

Let me know if you guys run into any glitches and we will get them worked out. In the meantime, have a lovely weekend. It might be 60 degrees here tomorrow! Holla!

OLD:

NEW:

But I’m finding myself really angry about something I’ve been hearing about him lately and I feel the need to speak up.

I heard first it at a small social gathering.

“So how about the Republican primary, pretty crazy, right? Can you believe Santorum actually has a chance?”

“Have you heard that thing about his stillborn baby, how he brought it home from the hospital?”

And then, in a blast email I got today, citing the Santorums’ “decision to force their children to kiss, hug, fondle, and sing to the dead baby.”

And I’ve seen tweets like this one: “Just a reminder that Rick Santorum kissed and cuddled a dead baby for hours and he is treated as a somewhat-viable presidential candidate.”

I’m sure my experience having a stillborn baby was different than the Santorums’, for probably a million reasons. But I can tell you that the couple of hours I got to spend with my son Miller — when yes, he was dead — were hours that I cherish so very much. In fact, my biggest, and probably only regret, a regret that sometimes feels like it’s eating a hole through my insides, is that we did not hold him for longer when we had the chance. Because I’ll never get to hold him again.

I wish we had spent the night with him. I wish I had held him until my arms were tired, and then for longer. I wish I told him 100 more times that I loved him and that I was so sorry he did not get a chance to grow up.

I console myself by saying that we made the best decisions we could at the time we were making them. I can’t really explain it any other way. But I’d kill to have those hours back, and I’d do it over differently.

To be critical of another family spending time with their (dead) beloved baby — that is just beyond my scope of acceptable right now. As a liberal, and a Democrat, and a fervently pro-choice person, I don’t think it is okay.

The reason I am pro-choice is because I believe that medical & reproductive decisions ought to be left to women and their doctors. I trust that most women, and most doctors, will make moral and ethical choices for themselves, given the circumstances they are in.

And so I think we ought to grant that same liberty and freedom from judgment to the Santorums, and to other parents of stillborn babies. They should choose how to grieve and cope and make decisions that are right for them and their families during a family tragedy.

If I hadn’t experienced this loss, I would have probably said those statements above, too. And the Santorums’ loss doesn’t really forgive the fact that they made it into a political platform issue. And I’m probably having somewhat of a knee-jerk reaction because my regrets over time spent with Miller are so raw and painful. But even with all those caveats, let’s leave the guy alone on this topic. There are plenty of other things to dislike about him.