To the Little Boy with the Cystic Hygroma

This is your heart beat.

A slow steady rhythm marked by flickering white light.

This is the pulse of life.

An erratic fast then slow but pushing on relentlessly.

In the rush of everything, everyone, and everywhere I need to be,

I listen for the thumping in your chest

That sets my steps

And Moves me on despite the setbacks and lacking self-confidence.

I listen for the next beat with bated breath.

Keep beating though the journey is long.

Keep beating though the slog is hard.

Keep beating to guide me where I can hold you in my arms

and become the one who leads you beyond.

Marriage: More Than a Shiny Ring

When my husband proposed, I have to admit, part of my surprise was at the stunning, shiny ring he picked out. The vain, materialistic part of me always wanted a pretty engagement ring, and it made driving on sunny days very pleasing.

But…when my husband and I said our marriage vows, I realized the ring symbolized so much more. The size, the shape, the material of the ring does not matter. That ring is a visual reminder of something far more impressive. Your willingness to commit to another person.

I was 25 when I married my husband. That was only 3 years ago, but it feels like another lifetime some days. Since we said our vows, we have had our first child, and my husband spent a year overseas serving. These types of significant life events tend to change people, and I definitely feel like we have changed since that sunny June day nearly 3 years ago. Having a child in and of itself can put a severe strain on a relationship. Lack of sleep, stress, added financial responsibility, and a plethora of other worries can take a couple’s focus off of each other and off of keeping the spark in their relationship.

Here I would like to confess to another sin. I have not been trying to keep my relationship going. I love my husband, but a part of me, that exhausted, cranky part that is honestly just trying to make it to bedtime, has taken control and lost sight of the long game. I have been short, irritable, and disconnected. And my husband noticed.

Lucky for me, he called me out. A lot of men might shirk from that. A lot of women might too. Confrontation is not a fun thing. We all just want our days to run smoothly, to be happy, and not get into the dark, gritty stuff. I hate drama. I hate arguing. I hate crying. I just want to be happy and watch Netflix. But often, working through these low points is the only way to resolve and strengthen a relationship. And I had to be willing to set aside my pride and listen to my husband. I feel like last night was the first time I’d really heard him since he came home in November.

I have to learn to take equal responsibility in keeping our marriage a priority. Otherwise, we will fall apart. Like maintaining a home, it has to be lived in and tended to so that it doesn’t collapse in on itself.

I feel like we are getting stronger though. We have been through so much together. My husband is my best friend, the only person I can see myself growing old with, the father of our child. He is my soulmate and my person.

When you get that ring, especially when you’re young, it is so easy to only see the upside of marriage. You see laughter, dinners together, movie dates, a bed buddy, gifts, and kisses. You can’t possibly know the hardships that accompany maintaining your commitment. You will want to walk away a thousand times. But the real test is staying when you want to run. It’s planting roots when you want to take wing. It is a choice to make your relationship work and salvage the good from the wreckage of an argument, to use that to build an even stronger relationship each time.

I feel like a lot of people, especially my generation (Millenials) and younger, fixate on the parts of a marriage that can be shared on social media. The big engagement on YouTube, the photo of the ring on Instagram, the meshed or punny last names for the wedding hashtag on Twitter.

Those things are fun, don’t get me wrong. But there is an age-old aspect of marriage we shouldn’t lose as we take ownership. That is the solemnity of the commitment you are making. Because when it gets hard and the jokes aren’t funny anymore, you need something concrete to bring you back to why you married this person in the first place. And if you can’t find that in the beginning, maybe you shouldn’t be getting married at all.

If all you were there for is the bling and the party, maybe try renting a bouncy castle instead next time. It is not the rings, not the wedding decorations, not the hot air balloon ride over the English countryside that served as the backdrop to your proposal, but the people that will make the marriage. Make the more significant commitment to that and happiness will be your reward.

This Is It

We’ve been here before.
We have left the realm of the unknown.
 
This is day to day,
This is your job,
This is the commitment I understood.
 
We are so close,
I know where we go from here.
I know how to feel from here.
 
We have lived in this span of space
have reached across this arc of time
and found each other again on the other side.

The Measure of My Worth

I have reached inside my soul
and found that I am lined in gold.
It fills the cracks and fissures,
the erosion of my tears through troubled years.
It formed in veins, snaking over heart and mind
steeling them against the harsher times.
And my value cannot be seen by prying eyes
I’ve hidden away what makes it a prize.
It’s yours to take, yours to see
because you’ve always only seen the best in me.
 

Going Down in Flames

Baby, we were fire

Engulfed in each other’s sight

The tendrils of your flame

Set my soul alight.

Brittle, broken tinder

Littered my insides

A spark from you, a cinder,

caused me to ignite.

The friction building in whispers

In the velvet of deep twilight

Erupted, spewing embers,

Molten lava, melting frigid night.

Did you feel the burning?

Did it scald and scar your skin?

Can you see the marks of yearning,

the brands you left behind?

Baby, we were an inferno,

temperatures rising,

enveloping and blinding.

How did we survive it?

Two As One or the Red String Runs Taunt

He is to me the foam upon my sea
Billowing up from my depths to ride on waves
Stretching towards the beachy barriers
Pulling back to chase horizons.
He has become as flesh to my bone
Gripped by ligament, sinew, muscle
All sewn together with veins
Destruction of part forever marring the whole.
To separate us would mean to rend my soul
To divide my life’s blood from my lungs
My heart from my tongue
Told to thrive within a shriven corpse.
Physiologically whole but dissected
All the same.

Distance is a Myth and This Too Will Become a Tale Someday

Poseidon in his watery prison has loved Selene from afar, turning his tides to draw her gaze upon him.
And Selene hung upon the velvet canvas of night unable to sink into the salty waves from her lofty height blinks slowly with regret, filling her vision with the peaked foam depths.
I love you like the ocean loves the moon, the sight of her in the night sky roiling the ocean into tidal frenzies.
I love you with the eternal pattern of nature, unwavering and confident in the reassurance of return.
I love you with the eternal intent of gods and the immortal imperviousness of our souls.
I love you as I have always and will always love you, in lives since passed and lives to come, and in that space of afterlife, our Heaven ensnared in each other’s eyes.
And long before the goddess took up residence beside the empty cratered lake to stand guard over far off blue green seas and long after those seas have ebbed eternally too heavy and ancient with geological burden I have, I will, love you.

An open letter to my husband on Mother's Day,

I know there is a day set aside for fathers especially but I wanted to take this Mother’s Day and thank my husband. First and foremost I want to thank him for the gorgeous little girl who shares half of his DNA. It takes two to tango after all. 😉
Second, I want to thank him for supporting me throughout my pregnancy, for every back rub, ice cream run, every night you cooked dinner, and reading to my bump when it was barely a bump. I know it is hard for men to realize their role as a father while their partner is pregnant but you cared, you engaged, you became a father when I showed you the plus sign on that test.
Third, for not backing down in the delivery room. You held my leg and you got in there and watched our daughter be born. Your strength is the reason I got through labor, the reason I found it in myself to dig deep and push.
Finally, and maybe most importantly, I want to thank you for the way you support my ability to parent. Our situation is somewhat unique. Your deployment means I am solo parenting and you have to be away for nearly the entire first year of our daughter’s life.
But do not doubt that you have a significant impact on her life at the moment. Because of you I find the strength to get up at 6 am after 4 hours of sleep (rarely all at once). Because of you I am able to present my kindest, most patient self when our daughter is difficult. Because of you she and I will never want for comfort and security. Because of you, I understand I must fill my cup before I have anything to give to our child.
Giving birth may have made me a mother, but you make me a good one.
I love you.

My Love Tells Me I Am Beautiful…

When the gray mornings of a humid, drizzly day cause my hair to frizz and fray.
When my tears leech through my mascara darkened eyelashes in black rivulets down my cheeks.
Before I wash the night’s sleep from my face .
Standing under the harsh truthfulness of white fluorescent lights.
When the stress of the day bows his shoulders down like Atlas.
When the night is dark and the moon has shut its eye to steal the little light it gives.
When I dressed all in white and took his hands for life.
When he wiped the sweat from my brow with the edge of my ugly hospital gown.
When my nose is red and I can’t stop coughing and fever blurs my eyes.
When his voice cuts in and out from the strain of transmitting from thousands of miles away.
When he hasn’t even seen my face for several weeks on end.
My love tells me I am beautiful even when I don’t deserve it.
My love tells me I am beautiful and I am starting to believe him.
Because when he tells me I am beautiful it isn’t what he’s seeing, my love tells me I am beautiful because of what he’s feeling.

Black Hole Pt. 3

Sinking into the nether
Of unexplored
/Absence of space/
Will the light extinguished
Reignite?