What a Year! A Long Reflection on 2007
What a glorious year 2007 has been!
I rediscovered my creative self (the part of me not presently engaged in creating and rearing human beings) in painting a giant mural on my former office wall. I painted that wall in my mind every moment of every day in January, even when I wasn’t able to physically work on it. Every night I dreamed the blending of colors, the content, and the peaceful occupation of applying the pigment. I think about painting nearly every day now. I have collected some supplies and I received paints, brushes, and an easel for Christmas from my darling husband. Now I only need to carve out some time to do more. I am optimistic and energized by the prospect.
I had a beautiful, ecstatic birth experience on January 31st. My second son rushed into the world by means of a happy, intense, five-hour labor here in our home. Lucas slept peacefully while Asher slipped out of my body and into his surprised father’s hands and a wet shower. Although his birth didn’t happen quite like we had planned—we expected him to be born at The Birth Center here in Fair Oaks—Asher showed us that we didn’t need any “experts” there to welcome him other than ourselves. Ian was a rock through the whole experience. He held me, danced with me, patiently waited on me, protected me, and loved me through the contractions that brought us another child. And when Asher and I were most vulnerable, Ian’s patient and gentle hands were there to hold us, to warm us, and to get us the help we needed.
This year we learned that our relationship has the capacity to withstand darkness in addition to all the light we’re blessed with. When I got sick with an infection and then septicemia just hours after Asher’s birth, I went into my darkest experience ever. Thank goodness those experts I didn’t need birthing my son were there when I was refusing to go to the hospital. Thank goodness for my midwife, my mother, my aunt, and my husband. Had they not insisted and dragged my ass to the ER, I might not have survived. Thank all the gods that those experts in the ER and ICU were there when I needed them to save me and make me well again. My six days in the ICU were the most frightening of my life. I faced my mortality for the first time; I faced separation from my husband and my children; I faced the possiblity that I would never know my newborn. But every time I looked into that darkest corner of my mind, a reassuring face looked back at me. Sometimes it was the face of a nurse or a doctor, sometimes it was Ian, my mother, or my father. Sometimes it was a beloved friend. That time (and the few weeks that followed) were full of fear, pain, and insecurity. But I was constantly supported, nursed, counseled, and held up by waves of love from my loved ones and even strangers. I am so grateful to have come through this. I am so grateful that this kind of fear is not my constant companion. I received the lessons loud and clear. And all during that time, my courageous husband carried on, caring for our infant and for Lucas. My family and friends rallied to support us all and I learned again, how very blessed I am.
And when all the murky clouds began to dissapate and my world got brighter and safer, I realized what a treasure Asher is! This little baby never ceases to amaze me. His joy and unshakable love are such a gift. He waited patiently for me to get better. He waited patiently for me to be able to nurse him. He has been by my side every day since my hospital release, and he is always jolly and giving. His personality shines forth more and more each day, and he is full of curiosity and delight. I am so happy that I am his mother. I am so very happy that he chose me. Nearly losing him has made me appreciate him in a way that I perhaps wasn’t prepared to do before. It’s complicated stuff and I’m still sorting it all out, but I know now that Asher has as much to teach me as I have to teach him.
Lucas was a little shocked by these weird events in his normally secure life, but has recovered nicely. Sometimes I see a small shadow on him when we discuss my sickness or that time after Asher’s birth. I am grateful that he had a whole community of family and friends to support him—both at home and at school—while all this was happening. I know I will endeavor never again to leave home without saying “I love you.” He is of an age now when he is becoming aware of the existence of darkness and shadows in the world. On the whole, however, Lucas himself is a bright light—the brightest. His mind and imagination are constantly absorbing, expanding, and embellishing reality. He’s like an alchemist sometimes because he takes in elements around him and transforms them into stories of indefatigable daring. His curiosity is both his biggest asset and his weakness, for sometimes he absorbs things he’s not yet prepared to handle. I think this is true of all brilliant and precocious people. Most of the time, he trips through life knowing that he’ll never be hungry, never be harmed, and will always be loved. His sense of security is something we’ve worked hard to establish in him, and it’s also why I’m sometimes protective—perhaps overly so. We wrestle daily with his vacillations between being a bigger boy now who’s capable of so much great stuff and being a small boy who’s coping with a new sibling and many social challenges the best he can. In any given day, Lucas will save the world from volcanic eruptions; discover cures for rare and deadly diseases; overcome wild animals in order to study them and then rescue them from extinction; engineer, build, and blow up futuristic alternative-fuel cars; become a rock ‘n’ roll star; travel to mars and discover alien life; work at a fish hatchery; protect the castle and surrounding villagers from dragons and jousting baddies; sling webs from his hands; and help me find Asher’s pacifier. Parenting Lucas is not easy sometimes. But he is worth every moment of it. And by the way, I love Lucas’s school!
Ian is nearly done with his master’s degree in human behavior. He is currently working on his final project. Next year sometime, he’ll have to sit for the BCBA exam. It’s been a long haul for him, but he’s definitely seeing the light at the end now.
I have had both a great deal of rest this year as well as a great deal of work. I’m so lucky to have had the rest when I needed it and the work when I could handle it. Although we’ve had some monetary challenges related to my illness and hospitalization, they truly were the least of our worries. Three of my oldest clients gave me just the right amount of work and I’m happy with what I accomplished professionally this year. My coauthors and I finished our manuscript for the med term textbook; it’s presently in production. We’ll have to review proofs of it sometime next year, but then—hopefully—we will sit back and watch those royalties roll in. I have hopes that the book will be successful and that we’ll be working on a second edition within two or three years.
We have now paid off the hospital bill and that feels good. We have paid off the baby and that’s good, too. We have paid off this year’s tuition and that feels fantastic. We have saved some for the boys’ college. We have saved for retirement. We have paid taxes. Our next major project is to establish our trust and sort out a number of really sticky questions—not that we have all that much to apportion, but facing the inevitability of one’s own demise and worse, the demise of one’s spouse, is an awful exercise. Nevertheless, I’m confident that we will get through it by the deadline we set ourselves. Thanks mainly to Ian’s tireless work and dedication, and to my successful “busy season,” we are doing well. And although there are things about my home that I would love to change, I realize that I fall in love with our home a little more each year. It is now so full of gorgeous, happy people. It is warm and safe and I’m so chuffed we were clever enough to buy this place almost nine years ago.
My family is mostly healthier than they were last year. RoRo has been through a lot, thanks to the fall she suffered last spring and the broken hip. She has had hip replacement surgery, recovered from that, had knee replacement surgery, and is presently recovering from that. I’m optimistic that she will be able to move and balance better after she heals completely and does all her physical therapy. My dad’s health seems to be stable. He doesn’t talk too much about his diabetes; sometimes I see him making wise choices and sometimes not. I need to press him for more information. Mom’s recent oral surgery for a serious root canal looks promising. Her doctor says that she is likely to suffer from fewer sinus and ear infections and will most likely feel better with more energy now that the tooth thing is being treated. Nana is the only one I worry about. She’s 94 now and her short-term memory is gone. She can easily talk about things that happened 35 years ago, but cannot remember what she ordered for lunch just five minutes ago. She repeatedly covers the sames topics of conversation. She doesn’t remember Asher’s name and asks me each time whether he is a boy or a girl. This makes me sad.
I shared a wonderful birthday party with Mickibean at Thaemos’s house in May. We grew food in our yard over the summer and fall. We were lucky enough to take several short but wonderful vacations this year. We visited Strawberry and Echo Lake in August with Ian’s father and his girlfriend Miriam. We also had a weekend in South Lake Tahoe for Ian’s birthday. Last month we spent five days at Bodega Bay. We are beginning to ponder what vacation we might take this coming year and are considering looking into some type of family resort—one with kids’ activities and babysitting so that we can have some time with the boys and some time without them. This prospect is very exciting to me.
I’m loving my camera these days and enjoy taking pictures. I started doing a daily photo thing, but couldn’t quite keep up the momentum. Maybe I’ll try doing a daily photo again whenever I can manage it. What would that be called? “Today’s Photo”?
Although I do not see my friends as often as I would like, I am pleased to know that they are out there in the world, living, loving, striving, giving and being the creative and brilliant people I know them to be. I am grateful for all that I’m doing now and looking forward to being more in the world again someday.
There were things I wanted to do this year but didn’t. But I tell myself that life is long, and someday I’ll get the opportunity. All in all, it was an awesome and abundant year!
