I keep thinking I have nothing to write about but I think it has more to do with the fact that I don’t have space to sit and think. But we’re all bored of hearing about the moving saga so I’ll let that one lie until I can show you before and after photos.
We have just returned from the alternate universe that is vacation. It was perfectly timed and it was absolute bliss. We went to Ojai, Santa Barabara and Los Olivos. We napped every day, stared off in the distance for long periods of time, I read a little, we swam a little, we picnicked at my favorite winery in Los Olivos, we ate dinner at 9pm, and we binged watched really bad TV. I mean, what else is vacation for?
Then within twenty-four hours we left Los Olivos and the zen of the golden hills, came home and started working on the house, went to Hoag hospital to see my newest nephew Rory come into the world and woke up at 6am for a garage sale. Rory is absolutely perfect and no matter how many of my sister’s births I witness (we’re not Mormon) I will never get over what a miracle the whole thing is.
As a side, 6am is apparently not early enough for the garage sale types. People should sleep later on Saturdays, it bothers me that they don’t. But it doesn’t matter anymore because we have decided garage sales are not worth it for the Hoehne’s. Neither Trever or I are in sales for good reason, we sold a washer/dryer set for $15, a BBQ for $10, and after we got bored of it all we just put a big free sign up and went inside. We ultimately got what we wanted though, big annoying things that were taking up space went away.
Then! On Sunday we went to my sister Brittany’s church to see Crosby, her youngest of four, get dedicated (really though we’re not Mormon, we have brown hair). You expect to go to your own church and have everyone tell you how much they’re praying for you and your family. You don’t expect to go to your sister’s church and have people you have never met know you and your unborn daughter by name and tell you that they’re praying for you every day. It was really humbling.
It was also Mother’s Day that day. I felt so celebrated for my mother-to-be status and yet with each reference to the norms of mothering I thought about the abnormal. For the mothers that have been lost, for the empty wombs. I think about them not to pity them or pity myself but because the validation in recognition can bring ease. The pain should be noted in the midst of the good because there always is pain in the midst, as that’s the reality of our world. I celebrate perfect babies being born all around me with real and full joy because it’s really good news. But of course the grief is there. Abnormality is cruel isn’t it?
The funny thing is in the afternoon I had a conversation with my brother-in-law’s sister who had high-risk pregnancies and births. We talked about the abnormal and it took away the loneliness of grief. It was all I needed, to laugh about the normal mom’s who lose their minds over a medication they don’t want to take or not being able to breastfeed for three years. I hope I’m that person for someone one day, the normalizing comforter. In a weird way we’re lucky when we get to be that person for someone. It puts to use our pain, which is the best thing we can ever make of it. Then at least it has a purpose.
Also I got a new doctor. One of the first things he did was ask Colette's name and called her by it the entire appointment. He validated her humanity and it was everything I needed from him. Hallelujah for that.