Lost and Found: Memories of My Youth

One of our big projects for 2017 has been to turn our basement into a playroom for Miranda. Whether that means to formally finish it or just clear enough space to put an arts and crafts table down there remains to be seen. None of that matters until Gary and I clean out all of our stuff.

When we bought our house in 2009, we were not even engaged yet. He had a lifetime (and U-haul storage locker) full of items, and I had sold my condo and had all that stuff. For the most part, our things merged together nicely and what did not fit, went to the basement.

Over the years, we have purged certain things. We made a baby section for Allie's things when it turned out that she would not need them. Then we made a section for Miranda's things when it turned out that she outgrew toys and furniture and clothes even faster than we could imagine. In time, with a toddler and work and life in general, the basement became a mish-mosh of everything. Order was pretty much lost, and chaos prevailed.

When we were at the beach earlier this summer, Gary came home for a few days to tackle the basement. He generated a lot of trash and started to make sense of the madness. So far, we have donated close to 10 boxes/bags to the Veterans Association of America and sold close to $100 in items that were useful, but just not to us. We also found a family that was not able to spend money on a new foster child that they had taken in and gave them bags of stuffed animals and toys. The feeling of being able to help that family was one of the best feelings I have had yet.

This weekend, it was time to start working on my section of the basement. I quickly found high school yearbooks, my sorority pledge book, prom pictures, USY pictures, handwritten letters and more. I found piles of things from when we cleaned out my dad's house when we first moved him into a nursing home. I discovered haircuts that no one should have ever paid money for and a lot of outfits that, simply put, were not very flattering on me.

I was chock full of emotions, and I opened box after box. Settlement papers from my first house, bank statements reflecting different careers, baseball hats, straw hats, sun hats...none of which did I ever remember wearing so why did I keep buying hats?? Office supplies from different desk jobs, framed art from various walls that used to surround me and boxes and boxes and boxes of books.

In April 1992, two months before my high school graduation, I found a national newspaper in which I had a poem that ran. It was my first published piece. Who would have known it would have taken me until May 2011 to start writing again?

I found so much that was lost to me and also found so much that could have stayed lost. Letters from my dad during the time in which we did not speak that were not very positive. Pictures of myself from when I thought I was heavy or overweight and I really wasn't. And last but not least, a picture of the boy to whom I lost my virginity, and it turns out that he was much hotter in my memory than on faded film.

I have more to go through before I can pack it all away again. My one friend offered me her fire pit and some wine to have a bonfire to get rid of the bad memories. I seriously considered it until I realized that all of my past makes me who I am - the good and the bad. The lost and the found. So for now, I will throw out the trash but keep the memories. For they are all a part of my story. And I still feel like I have a story to tell.

High School Graduation

Junior Prom with Josh Allen. I had a crush on him since at least 9th grade. He was a terrific date.

Most Likely To Be In A Broadway Play - NPHS 1992

Estelle & Me (Her daughter Hannah was the one who was Bat Mitzvahed back in March.) Estelle was the first one who suggested I blog. Friends since 3rd grade.

Kara & Me. Met my sophomore year of high school. Inseparable ever since. Eventually got our own hairstyles. Throws good bonfires.

Bradford & Me. Met in 1997 or so, through our mutual friend, Amy. Miranda wants me to marry him so that she can marry Gary. It's an ongoing conversation.

Miranda playing in her newly renovated, almost-ready play room.

The Weight of Water

I love the water. I always have. I love to take baths. I take extra long showers whenever I can. I love to swim.

My love for water has been passed down to my daughter. My husband and I were talking at the pool earlier today that he enjoys the water, but not as much as me. He might be right. I really do love it.

I so enjoy the feeling of being weightless. Fighting every calorie I have ever seen since I can remember has made me have so many negative feelings about my body. Except for in the water. In the water, I am not any size or shape. I am just free.

I love the feeling of being a part of something that is bigger than me. Something that makes me feel small.

Indoor pool or outdoor pool - ocean or lake or cranberry bog, I love it all.

We just signed Miranda up for swim lessons. She can hold her own in the water, but I want better for her. I want more for her - in the water and out.

Being a mom is kind of like floating in water. You are constantly fighting to keep your head above water. You know how sweet the air will be in your lungs if you can just keep your head up. Kick and swim and paddle and repeat.

I want so desperately to make sure my daughter knows no pain or heartache or suffering, but I know that experiencing all of those things is going to make her a strong woman. So I just have to let her learn certain things on her own.

Life with a four-year-old is not easy. My daughter is stubborn and headstrong and as defiant as we will allow her to be. Every night at bedtime, we battle to go to sleep. This has been going on for almost half her life. We encourage her to find her voice, but often times, it seems like we are drowning, just trying to keep it all together.

In the months after Allie died, I found it hard to sit still with my thoughts. Self-loathing, self pity, and overall selfish thoughts seemed to seep into my everyday psyche. But not when I drew myself a warm bath. The negative thoughts could not find me there in my safe place. Eventually, the water just washed them all away.

Yesterday, Miranda asked to see a photo of Allie for the first time. I think she is starting to understand her a little bit more. Miranda still says she is my only daughter and my only baby and I try not to correct her too much, as she is still so young and I want her learning about her sister to be gentle and gradual and not a punch to the gut. So I showed her an ultrasound picture that we have framed in my office. She said it was too hard to see. She didn't like it. The only other photos I have of her are when she was born, red lips due to lack of oxygen and a still and silent look on her face. I will share those photos with Miranda one day, but not for a long time to come. For now, she has to make due with the black and white computer image.

It's sad. It makes me sad. But I love that Miranda wants to learn more, and I love that I can talk with her about the baby that first made me a mom.

I needed the pool today. It washed away all my pain. I am looking forward to going again soon.

 

Vacation or Relocation?

I love a good vacation. Always have. I love the planning and the anticipation and the experience of discovering someplace new. 

Once Miranda came into our lives, I knew I wanted her also to enjoy vacations. So I have made it my mission to make sure we do something special each year.

The first year, we went to the mountains. Some family joined us, and we made a lot of great memories. I got really sick and was in bed for a bit of the week and Miranda was still napping twice a day, and we didn't do much, but we did something. I will always cherish that first trip away and always laugh at how much I had to pack to make the mountain house pretty much a replica of our house at home.

The next year, we went back to the mountains. Different house, but same area. By this time, Miranda was too big for the pack and play so we put her in a twin size bed. We installed a bed rail and hoped for the best, but she crawled out of that bed each and every day and that vacation marked the end of naps for her as well as easy bed times. Two years later and we are still dealing with her crawling out of bed at bedtime and wanting to play. Still, I will always look back on that week with joy as we really had a great time overall.

The next year we went to the beach. Oh, how wonderful that was for us! I decided then and there that we would continue to visit the beach and often as we could and that the ocean was where we were meant to be. We talked about that week all year long.

This past week, we went back to the beach. The salt water, tram cars, Kohr Bros custard, and sandy beaches are what vacation is to me. This year, my mom joined us for the whole week, and that was a real treat for all of us. The weather was wonderful, and we had the best vacation yet. This vacation was the first one that did not feel like a relocation. This vacation felt like an actual, well, vacation!

Now don't get me wrong. There was no sleeping in. There were no naps on the beach. I brought down a fresh new book that never even got opened. I did read the back of several suntan lotion bottles and once, in the bathroom, the first few pages of Entertainment Weekly. And yet, it was still the best week yet.

Sandcastles were built, seashells were collected, suntans were worked on, and boardwalk games were played. Bedtime was a breeze for the most part because Miranda was so exhausted each night. I taught my daughter how to pee in the ocean, and she taught me how to find the extraordinary in the ordinary. We laughed, we shared stories, we made memories and we got some real quality time together.

I am not sure how much Miranda will remember of this age, but I know that I will remember it all. And if in time, the memories just become feelings, that is ok, too. I get a feeling when I walk on the beach - a familiar feeling of all the times I have walked on the beach before. Walking with my dad, walking with my friends during Senior Week after high school, walking with my girlfriends on our annual GWA (Girls Weekend Away), walking with my husband on our honeymoon, walking with my best friend a few weeks after Allie died. And now? Walking with Miranda. The sand remembers, and I count on it to do just that.

I wonder what beach we will go to next year? I can't wait to start planning. For now, though, I want to keep this vacation close to my heart as it really was so wonderful.

I love a good vacation.

What Samantha Forgot

I recently finished watching the mini-series Big Little Lies on HBO. I absolutely adored it. The character development and the plot twists were so creative and intense. Before I knew it, I finished the series and I wanted more. So I found a book by the same author and excitedly began to dig in.

What Alice Forgot was an incredible read. I barely put it down. In my quest to be a better writer, I am trying to experience all sorts of writing. I am a big fan of this sort!

The main character of this book, Alice Love, falls off her spin bike at the gym and when she wakes up, she thinks she is 29 and not 39. She lost the last 10 years of her life, And she can't seem to get them back. I won't spoil the book by explaining any more, but I will illustrate how this book changed my thinking.

What if I woke up today and thought I was 33 and not 43? That means it's 2007. I was working as Marketing Coordinator at Dorman Products and living in my condo in Roxborough. I had just shed a lot of weight on Nutrisystem, and I was scouring the online dating sites like they were a second job.

My life consisted of work, the gym, my kitty cat Zoe, and my friends and family. I went to concerts and spent a lot of time trying to figure out of I liked beer with hops or without. There were also many wine festivals in there, too.

My one brother was married - my other one was not. There were no kids in our family yet, and my mom was constantly reminding me how sad that made her.

My dad and I saw each other but not all that much. He supported me and tried to be interested in my life, but it seemed like it was hard for him to focus on just me when we were out together.

There was a guy at work named Gary that I went to lunch with every once and a while. I am not sure I knew much about him back then.

Around that time, I remember talking to my mom about the idea of me becoming a mom, She pointed out that I could do it myself if I really wanted to. I did not. I wasn't sure I ever wanted to be a mom, and I knew enough from my friends that it was a lot of work and the idea of doing it solo held no appeal.

I was happy back in 2007. My life had meaning, and I was fulfilled by my work and my activities outside of work. I loved my condo and was proud that I owned it. I loved my little VW convertible, too, although I think I sold it a year or two prior.

If I woke up today and saw my wedding ring, would I remember the story behind how I got it and the man who gave it to me?

If I woke up today and felt my c-section scar, would I understand why it was there? Would I forget the agony of delivering a baby that never cried? Would I also forget the joy and elation of carrying her all those months?

If I woke up today and a little blonde haired girl kept calling me "Mommy" and expected me to make her breakfast and play with her, would I know who she was?

If I woke up today in the bed I have slept in for the past eight years, would I know where I was?

Lucky for me, I took one spin class once and felt so faint that I am not likely to try that again. So the odds of me falling off my bike and losing my memory like Alice are very slim.

Which is good, Because I love my life now, scars and all. The past decade has been an incredible journey for me, and I would not be who I am not if I missed it. Not even close.

Happy in 2017

It's a Small World

Miranda goes to school three days a week. Her school is literally down the street from Gary's office, so he normally brings her in and picks her up. Except for Wednesday's. I take those days to drop her off so that he can have a non-rushed morning and I normally head to the YMCA after to get in a workout, so it's a win-win.

Why mention the Y? Well, because yesterday at drop-off, in my sports bra, workout clothes, and frizzy hair splendor, I held the door open for a mom who looked right at me and said, "Are you Samantha?"

I stared directly into her face. I searched my brain for who this person could be. Nothing. Blank. Nada.

"Yes," I replied tentatively. I think I said that word as more of a question than a statement as I had no idea where this conversation was going. I know many of the parents at Miranda's school, but they either know me as "Miranda's mom" or they know my name. Usually, I know theirs as well. I was stumped.

The mom looked at me and smiled. "We were in an Adoptions from the Heart class together."

I then looked down and noticed that she had the most adorable little girl in her car seat carrier and my heart burst inside of my chest.

I love seeing families being made. I especially love seeing families being formed through adoption. 

So we started to chat. Four years ago, we first met. We were in the same course together, with our husbands, talking about our Profile Book. The Profile Book is a tool you use to market yourself to prospective birth parents. She remembered me from all that time ago and said I was so excited about our book and had told our social worker we would have our book done right away.

I must have been super annoying. But I wanted a baby, and nothing was getting in my way!

The new mom and I parted ways after catching up for about 15 minutes. We connected on Facebook and are going to make plans for our girls to play together. We had a short wait to get Miranda. They had a longer wait to get placed. However, it's always nice to connect with people that are on the same journey as you.

What are the odds that our paths would cross? The adoption agency that we used is a good 45 minutes from our house. One day a week for about ten minutes, I am in Miranda's school. That's it! We both must have hit the same traffic patterns and the stars somehow aligned for us to run into each other. There are many many child care facilities in our area, and yet we both chose the same one.

I smiled all day yesterday. I love new connections. Now my daughter will know another friend who is adopted which is super cool to me. Gary and I will have another couple that we can share stories with and even look to or share advice. Open adoption is wonderful for the child, but it can be a bit tricky for both the birth parents and the adoptive parents. It will be nice to have each other.

It really is a small world.

From Then Till Now...

Six years ago yesterday was my first blog post. From then till now, I have had 94,791 views to my page. That is not including the views I have had to my pieces that have been published. I am still baffled that I get paid to write stories about my life! I have authored 30 pieces so far and my memoir is coming pretty well.

When I first started to blog, it was because my friend Estelle had sent me an article that explained that there was a whole community of women who bonded over the loss of their babies by writing. I am not sure if I even knew what a blog was before then.

I always wanted to be a writer, but I never knew how to get started. I was also never sure if anyone would be interested in what I had to say.

Turns out that many of you are interested and have stuck with me all this time. I am not sure how I would have survived the empty and still house that I was forced to recover in had it not been for my laptop. I am not sure how I would have survived the wait for our social worker to call and tell us that a birth mother had picked us to be parents if it were not for the kind words and positive feedback I received from this blog.

I am the mom that I am because I am able to express myself in this space. It's impossible to put into words how grateful I am for that.

There is not much I do not write about - from depression and anxiety and loss and bereavement to happiness and rainbows and family and vacations. My writing is very much a reflection of my life. The good and the bad all mushed together with a pretty image or quote to make it that much better.

I received this note just last night, "I happened across your blog on Kveller... just wanted to reach out and let you know that your posts resonated." A complete stranger was moved enough to send me a note and let me know how my words made a difference to her. She is about to celebrate her son's third birthday of when he was born still and she was pleased to see she was not alone in her quest to honor her child that is not here with her.

It's such a fine line between wanting to grieve and be sad forever and also wanting to be free of the grief and live life. Knowing there are others out there is key. At least for me.

I am one of the lucky ones. My family and friends all remember our loss. I have to remember that they all lost someone, too.

We have been teaching Miranda about honesty and respect. She is just barely old enough to understand. It's so important to believe in those traits and to abide by them for yourself and for others.

I hope that my words continue to heal me...and maybe you, too. 94,791 views sure leads me to believe that they are! 

Future Writer!

Nothing and Everything

Earlier this year, I took advantage of the unseasonably warm temperatures and went to the local zoo with my young daughter.  My sister-in-law and two nieces joined us there. I could not stop smiling.

To the outside world, we looked like just a couple of moms, taking our kids on a little adventure, passing the time with laughter smiles.  Many of the exhibits were closed since it was off-season, but the playground was open and there were just enough animals in their habitats that the kids were pleased.

It was nothing and everything at the same time.

There was a time that I did not think we were going to be able to raise our children together. I worried that I would never parent a living child. I thought my arms would be empty forever.

My sister-in-law and I were pregnant for the first time at the same time. We had our baby showers within weeks of each other. We were both expecting girls. We were excited and scared and happy and so very blessed.

Her daughter arrived first. It was just a matter of weeks until it was my turn. I held her daughter on my swollen pregnant belly as she napped the sleep of a newborn. I could barely wait till it was my turn.

Twelve days later, we learned my daughter's heart had stopped beating. Just like that. One day she was kicking me so hard that it took my breath away and the next day, I noticed little movement. I felt silly calling the doctor as I was sure I was being dramatic. It turned out that my intuition was right.  She died in my womb and the next day, I had to deliver her still.

That was a little over six years ago. There were so many feelings of guilt and sadness and loss and disappointment. I realized early on that my husband and I were not the only ones who lost a child. Our family lost a cousin, granddaughter, niece, and friend.

Now fast forward to two years later. My sister-in-law was pregnant again. By then, my husband and I decided to grow our family through adoption. It was surprisingly seamless for us, and the moment we held our daughter in our arms, we knew she was ours.

Now there are three girls between us. They are the best of friends. They can’t wait to play together, and no matter how much time we give them, it’s never enough.

One child will always be missing. I think of her every day, and I suspect that others do as well. But what that missing child has taught me is that you have to live each day to its fullest. Live without regrets. Live with intention.

If that means going to the zoo on a warm winter day, then go. Enjoy the sights and sounds. Enjoy the peals of laughter and the smiles on the faces of the ones you love. Enjoy it all.