A Brand New Moonfrye

Psst!  Did you hear the news?  Moonfrye is all new and it looks spectacular!

Soleil and team have been hard at work for the past few weeks.  They’ve created an all new site for all of you!

You will see some of your favorite writers who have been there for a while.  Sherri, Jenny, and Elizabeth continue to share their beautiful words over there…

But guess what?  There are many writers joining the team…and I’m just over the moon that my sweet friend Galit is now writing for moonfrye.  Who doesn’t love Galit?  Trick question.  Everybody loves Galit.  Especially me.

So hop on over to moonfrye and check out the new home.  And while you’re there?  Please take a minute to read my latest post about my dad, butterflies, and my big-hearted daughter.  Pretty please?

See you there!

 

Letting Go

Most days I choose to see the possibilities.  The room that could be anything.  The furniture longing to be purchased.  The perfect space for friends, grandparents, and, someday, sleepovers.

But some days, when I’m truly being honest with myself, I see the empty space.  The hole meant to be filled by one last little one.

Some days I stare longingly at the perfect spot to place the crib, just to left of the window, where the morning light filters through the soft white plantation shutters.

Some days I rock quietly in the glider, the one that I could never quite convince myself to give away.  Just.  In. Case.  Other days I catch a glimpse of it, frozen in time, and wonder just what to do.

By day, I enjoy each moment.  I lose myself in play, reading aloud, and endless art projects.  I listen to each word carefully, burning their little voices across my memory.  I watch with pride and fascination while taking screen shots in my mind, every chance I get.  I hang on tight as I watch them grow and change right before my very eyes.

Time escapes me, no matter how hard I try to hit the brakes.

By day, I build memories.

By day, I am reminded that my family is perfect just the way it is.

But when darkness falls, my broken heart emerges once again.

By night, I am flooded with emotions.

Images of the final loss threaten to crowd out the happiness I find within the day.  Memories of the event leave me shaken to my core:  The look of desperation on my husband’s face.

This can’t be happening…

The whispers of the nurses as they ushered me into emergency surgery.

We will pray for you…

The signing and more signing of last minute waivers.

You mean I might die in there?

The final goodbye.

Just.  In.  Case.

Some nights I lie awake, clutching my empty womb, while muffled sobs escape my aching soul.

Some nights, the empty space feels bigger than others.  Some nights, it overwhelms me.

I am the lucky one, I tell myself.  I am the one with two amazing children and a husband who loves me beyond compare.

I am strong, resilient, and always a fighter.

And yet, at times, the sadness creeps in.  The what-ifs cause my heart to race while the you-should-haves force the tears to escape.

Sometimes the letting go is the hardest part.

Dreams change.  Life moves forward.  But emotions stay with us for as long as we allow.

So, for right now, that rocking chair is staying put.

Because sometimes you just need to dream…

 

 

 

Remembering Dad

“The conversation happened much sooner than I had hoped.  It wasn’t that I was afraid, anxious, or unsure of what to say.  I worked all of that out long ago.  But in my mind, the mind of a mother who wants nothing but happiness for her children at all times, I wanted it to wait.  I wanted them to hold on to the innocence of life just a little bit longer.

It was a night like any other in our house.

My husband was working late. Very late.  So late that I wouldn’t see him until the light of day, not even when he crawled into bed sometime after midnight. I sat at the dinner table with the kids, covering the usual topics:  Strawberry Shortcake, construction trucks, and the events of the day.  We looked for stars as the sky grew darker and shouted with glee when the birds visited the birdhouse just outside the kitchen window.

Yes, it was a night like any other in our house.

Until, out of nowhere, my 5 year old daughter decided that it was time for answers.  Not the usual answers that involved some fragment of the truth tied up with a shiny red ribbon.  This time she wanted concrete answers.  She wanted information, no matter how much it might hurt.

“Mommy, why didn’t you ever meet me to your daddy?”

Our eyes locked as the question hung in the air.  Through the deafening silence that ensued, we each longed for different results.  She hoped against hope that I would pack them in the car and immediately take them to his house.  I fought back tears and wished for a different story to tell.

Just as I opened my mouth to provide reassurance, baby brother chimed in.

“Yeah Mommy, where is YOUR daddy?”

All eyes on me…”

Stop by moonfrye to continue reading “Remembering Dad”.