Fear and Courage

I title this Fear and Courage, two emotions or states of being I've spent time with recently, time both personal and professional. What occurs to me is to question whether they are two sides of the same coin or entities that battle as poles of a magnet. I have no answer.

I have a preference. Courage.

There is more to say, but not at the moment.

Found Tears

This is the post I've meant to write, tried to write, for 38 days...8 past my 30 day commitment theory. This is what I am blessed with, what our daughter and son-in-law brought into the world and into our family on September 4. This is Cody Jackson Beyer. This is our grandson.

So why the hesitation? Why the inability to put into words what this was like, what it was like during that day, that evening, that night. What it was like to stand by her side and watch her labor, watch her work, watch her look to her husband and her nurses and her doctor. Watch her bring her son into the world. Into our family.

I think I know. I think I know what it was, what it is that has held me back, stopped me from writing what it felt like that day. Not what it felt like to see him and hold him and hear him. That was the easy part. That was the joyous part. The hard part was my daughter. The hard part was her.

Childbirth is a universal experience. A common experience. A shared experience. But shared only to a point. A point that doesn't cross a line. A line that we hold deep within us, a line I've held deep within me.

In the moments before Cody's birth, those moments when I stood outside the door (right outside) I traveled. I traveled not from one place to another, but from one time to another. From one birth to another. From my grandson's birth to my daughter's, and in that travel, in that time I spent in her room and out of it, I had her to myself again. I had her like no one else has ever had her, not her father, her husband....no one. No one but me.

She is my first. That only happens once. She grew in my body and in my heart and when she was ready she slipped from my body and she joined the world.

I haven't cried for a long time. A very long time. Outside the door of my daughter's labor room, I cried. I cried for her pain. I cried for my pain. I cried for the loss I felt with her birth. I cried for the joy of Cody's birth. I cried.

He's a beautiful baby, our Cody. He was perfect and is perfect. They are beautiful parents, our Michelle and Jay. They love each other and love him.

I found my tears.

Monday - August 30, 2011

This is my 30 days, my 30 days of posts. I have finished what I set out to do one month ago. I hear from some of you that you are reading this, that you are enjoying what I write. I don't know if there are more of you than a few, but I have enjoyed doing this knowing you are reading and taking this journey with me.

I have a decision to make. Do I continue? Do I make myself post every day? Every other?

I will make the decision, I will post, I just don't know how often or on what subject.

Keep checking....

Sunday - August 29, 2011

We have been waiting all week for Hurricane Irene to hit Maine, to hit us with the force of a storm we haven't seen since Gloria hit in 1985. We waited, we listened to the weather, we watched the news, watched the video of wind, rain and flooding as she worked her way up the coast. We watched and we waited.

We waited, and she passed. Not without damage to Maine, but she passed without significant damage to us and for that we are grateful (we'll be even more grateful when we have our power back!), grateful for the lack of force, for the lack of hurricane force winds and floods. Grateful for her lack of damage.

Not having power for a day is humbling, it forces stillness in this era of technology. It was a good day, a quiet day, a day to be thankful for the lack of damage, a day to be thankful for the quiet.

Saturday - August 27, 2011

She makes me weak in the knees, this girl, this granddaughter of mine. Her eyes, her smile, her way of loving with her heart wide open.

There are things I want to protect her from, painful things, sorrowful things, things that make her sad. Things like losing a quarter in the grass at the Farmer's Market.

She carries a picture of my mother with her through her day and sleeps with it by her bed so if she wakes up at night my mother will be there to keep her safe.

A life as pure as this one, a love as pure as this deserves the joy she carries with her, the joy she spreads with her smile. What could be better?

Friday - August 26, 2011

Throughout my career as a nurse (and during the time I was in school) there were people rooting for me, people hoping I made it, that I achieved my goal. They cheered me on, wished me well and supported my every step.

When family does this (as my family has done without question) it makes the journey easier, it encourages you to stick with it, to work harder, to not let them down. When others take an interest in you, in your goals and your work to achieve them, their encouragement, their opinions matter. They matter because, unlike family, they don't have to care. They don't have to participate. (It's like when your mother tells you you're smart and beautiful you tend to think it may not be true, she has to say it, she's your mother. Except in my case...my children are smart and beautiful!)

Today I sat with Eloise, a woman of undaunted professional courage, a woman of personal integrity, a woman of genuine kindness and commitment to our profession. We sat in the afternoon sun overlooking harbor and talked. We talked of our careers, our work, our family and our friends. We talked of travel and adventure and career choice. We talked of giving back, of having an impact. We talked as peers.

To have this conversation, this time with her (and her wonderful husband) was a gift, just as her support and encouragement for the past many years has been. We don't know where our lives will lead us, where we will be years from now, where gifts will be found.

Today my life led me to a friend and I am thankful for that gift.

Stop the Presses

I was told when I started this job, when I took on this public role, to ignore the papers, to stop reading what others wrote. It is not so much the articles, the reporting of the stories, it's the comments people post online, the latest way people get to show their ignorance. I was told to stop reading those. I should have listened.

Tough decisions require thought, tremendous amounts of thought. We did that, we do this, this remarkable team I work with, we think, we process, we seek guidance and then act.

If only those who post, those who do not know the whys or hows, gave as much thought before using their keyboards to attack, to judge.