I am a superstitious person. I throw salt over my shoulder after spilling some, I make wishes on eyelashes and I will NOT turn a calendar page until the new month has begun. But, it turns out that Project Jellybean has given me a new sense that sometimes looking forward (even when there is no guarantee of outcome - which I would normally interpret as "TEMPTING FATE") can be profoundly hopeful.
For example, a truly lovely friend of mine is selling us much of what we will need for the jellybean... at prices that will allow us to keep feeding the child we already have! It is such an insane blessing that I can't let the opportunity pass me by... even though our jellybean is not a guarantee. And I can honestly say that thinking about "making room for" the jellybean in this way makes me happy several times each day.
Similarly, we have effectively already named our jellybean. We have boy and girl names... and are compiling a list of "backups" in case said jellybean does not "look" (aka: seem) like the names we have grown SO attached to. The girl name was chosen during the first few months of our relationship more than eight years ago (Mark: I LOVE this name. Kassie: I LOVE that name too!!!) and has just plain STUCK. The boy name is one I have loved since shortly after Samantha was born and (praise the heavens!) Mark loves it too.
I have also attached TWO middle names to each of these first names, and Mark is being a great sport about it, even though he thinks that kids should generally only have one middle name. But I feel really strongly about name meaning... and each boy and girl name currently consists of a first name (one that they can truly make their own based on their personalities - just like "Samantha"), a middle nickname that highlights the fact that Mark and I believe that education and lifelong learning is the cornerstone of a life lived well AND a middle name that highlights the fact that Mark and I believe that love is the cornerstone of both a life lived fully and life itself.
Here's the problem... this election has REALLY made me want to tack on a THIRD middle name into the mix. One that speaks to the values that Mark and I hold more dearly now than ever before. One that speaks to everything that this election stood for. But I kind of think that Mark might interpret giving a kid THREE middle names as borderline child abuse. He MAY have a point...
When I think about everything we want for this little bean, everything we hope for it, I have to actively fight the urge to address it all at once. I struggle to remember that my brilliant, kind, FUNNY Samantha... who is SO DAMN BEAUTIFUL inside and out... was not "built" in a day. So it shall be with this jellybean.
And yet, looking forward is proving to be fun and hopeful... even if doing so is making me want to "knock on wood" about 75 times every day. Because no matter WHAT... if this jellybean comes sooner, later or not at all (God forbid)... the dream of what we hope for - summed up in the jellybean's MANY potential names - is a beautiful, beautiful dream that I am treasuring with each passing day.
Tuesday, November 29, 2016
Monday, November 21, 2016
Getting Up Off the Mat
(Forgive me in advance if I have told this opening story before)
During the 2004 election season, I was vice-president of the College Democrats at Lawrence University and was ultimately in charge of all election activities alongside one of my best guy friends at LU. With the rest of the dems, we organized a huge voter registration drive, organized rides to all three polling stations (a three-block campus of 1,200 liberal arts kids was divided into THREE congressional districts... thank you, gerrymandering!) organized a hugely successful call center and planned a big election night party in our student union. We were pumped... invested... passionate... and ultimately devastated when the returns started pouring in.
Three days later, my comrade in arms Andy and I went to see Tim Russert speak at our local PAC. His intelligence and charm helped to clear away some of the fog that seemed to envelop us both. When it came time to ask Tim questions, the only people who stood up at the microphone were older white men. Knowing me, it should not surprise you that I jumped up more out of principle than anything else. Thankfully, by the time my turn came as the last question of the evening, I sought advice that I hadn't realized until that moment I was desperately seeking. "Sir," I began, "Many of us young Democrats are feeling truly crushed that the president will be serving for another four years. This is the first time that many of us have experienced a blow like this after investing so much of our time, energy and faith into the process. What would you say to those of us who are having a difficult time getting up off the mat?"
Russert was gracious and wise. He told me that elections had occurred before and would occur again that would leave people like me feeling this way. That the only thing we can do is indeed, get off the mat, shake off and continue standing up (in word and deed) for that which we believe is right. I can't say for sure, but I suspect that he would say the same thing to all of us now.
This election has left me exhausted. I am not drained of motivation. In fact, I am perhaps more motivated now than I was even then, when I was still in college and had not yet left for law school or the wider world. But I am physically and emotionally exhausted. I will admit it. And yet, Russert did not tell me (or all of us feeling this way) to get off the mat only after I began feeling like doing so. Doing what is right means standing up even when your legs feel like jelly and your chest is so heavy that you fear you might tip over with the weight of it.
I have tried to employ this advice over and over again since my diagnosis. This is harder. Having my view of my nation altered fundamentally and questioning my place in it is harder than battling my own body. But perhaps that means that taking Russert's sage advice is that much more pressing. It is harder because it is even more important. And so... two weeks after the previously unthinkable has happened, my knees, elbows, fists and forehead are leaving the mat.
During the 2004 election season, I was vice-president of the College Democrats at Lawrence University and was ultimately in charge of all election activities alongside one of my best guy friends at LU. With the rest of the dems, we organized a huge voter registration drive, organized rides to all three polling stations (a three-block campus of 1,200 liberal arts kids was divided into THREE congressional districts... thank you, gerrymandering!) organized a hugely successful call center and planned a big election night party in our student union. We were pumped... invested... passionate... and ultimately devastated when the returns started pouring in.
Three days later, my comrade in arms Andy and I went to see Tim Russert speak at our local PAC. His intelligence and charm helped to clear away some of the fog that seemed to envelop us both. When it came time to ask Tim questions, the only people who stood up at the microphone were older white men. Knowing me, it should not surprise you that I jumped up more out of principle than anything else. Thankfully, by the time my turn came as the last question of the evening, I sought advice that I hadn't realized until that moment I was desperately seeking. "Sir," I began, "Many of us young Democrats are feeling truly crushed that the president will be serving for another four years. This is the first time that many of us have experienced a blow like this after investing so much of our time, energy and faith into the process. What would you say to those of us who are having a difficult time getting up off the mat?"
Russert was gracious and wise. He told me that elections had occurred before and would occur again that would leave people like me feeling this way. That the only thing we can do is indeed, get off the mat, shake off and continue standing up (in word and deed) for that which we believe is right. I can't say for sure, but I suspect that he would say the same thing to all of us now.
This election has left me exhausted. I am not drained of motivation. In fact, I am perhaps more motivated now than I was even then, when I was still in college and had not yet left for law school or the wider world. But I am physically and emotionally exhausted. I will admit it. And yet, Russert did not tell me (or all of us feeling this way) to get off the mat only after I began feeling like doing so. Doing what is right means standing up even when your legs feel like jelly and your chest is so heavy that you fear you might tip over with the weight of it.
I have tried to employ this advice over and over again since my diagnosis. This is harder. Having my view of my nation altered fundamentally and questioning my place in it is harder than battling my own body. But perhaps that means that taking Russert's sage advice is that much more pressing. It is harder because it is even more important. And so... two weeks after the previously unthinkable has happened, my knees, elbows, fists and forehead are leaving the mat.
Wednesday, November 9, 2016
Lupus and Jellybeans in Trump's America
I am not yet ready to discuss the election generally. I am still processing and struggling. But one matter simply cannot wait to be addressed... so I might as well update you all now as I am working through it.
As you all know, my body does not handle stress very well. Stress creates inflammation in the body. And in my body, inflammation goes absolutely wild. I was therefore not terribly surprised when I woke up early this morning in terrible pain. The stress of election night flowed through my body like water. So, although heartbroken and wanting nothing more than to stay in bed holding my husband, I got out of bed, stretched enough to walk comfortably and went to the gym.
Life in America is not going to be easy for the next 1,454 days... and should we re-elect our next president, this new era of American history will stretch even farther than that. And as a Lupus patient, I am going to have to be smart about my approach to my daily life in some unique ways. Self-care is always a critical issue for me. When the news gets particularly challenging, I have to find ways to offset the toll that remaining educated and engaged takes on my body and the progression of my disease. I am going to have to turn into a self-care guru in order to navigate this next chapter of my life and of America's "life" successfully.
I recently attended an appointment with my new high-risk fetal and maternal medicine physician in which we discussed the inherent and potential risks of carrying a pregnancy while battling dangerously high levels of inflammation. My situation is scary and humbling. I fully understand that I must remain as healthy as possible not only for me and for my loved ones, but also for the future Jellybean. And yet, tuning out the news of my country and the world in which I live is not an option for me. I am simply going to have to learn (even more than I already have) how to offset the inherent stressors of being invested in our nation and our world.
So, this is my new reality. The outcome of this election has truly left me heartbroken, confused and deeply angry. But as I told Samantha this morning, it is now time for us to mourn, to grieve and then to work harder than ever at becoming the best versions of ourselves. I told her that in the battles between our lesser and better angels, there are defeats. That this defeat is life-changing. But we must not embrace bitterness. We must see the world more clearly and then move forward, intentionally and towards light, one step at a time. I must do this because this approach aligns with my deeply held spiritual beliefs, my duty as a Patriot and my purpose as a human being. It aligns with my feminism, my commitment to the cause of advancing human rights and my core identity. And honestly, it is absolutely necessary in order to minimize any progression of my disease that may occur as a result of living in an increasingly unrecognizable America.
As you all know, my body does not handle stress very well. Stress creates inflammation in the body. And in my body, inflammation goes absolutely wild. I was therefore not terribly surprised when I woke up early this morning in terrible pain. The stress of election night flowed through my body like water. So, although heartbroken and wanting nothing more than to stay in bed holding my husband, I got out of bed, stretched enough to walk comfortably and went to the gym.
Life in America is not going to be easy for the next 1,454 days... and should we re-elect our next president, this new era of American history will stretch even farther than that. And as a Lupus patient, I am going to have to be smart about my approach to my daily life in some unique ways. Self-care is always a critical issue for me. When the news gets particularly challenging, I have to find ways to offset the toll that remaining educated and engaged takes on my body and the progression of my disease. I am going to have to turn into a self-care guru in order to navigate this next chapter of my life and of America's "life" successfully.
I recently attended an appointment with my new high-risk fetal and maternal medicine physician in which we discussed the inherent and potential risks of carrying a pregnancy while battling dangerously high levels of inflammation. My situation is scary and humbling. I fully understand that I must remain as healthy as possible not only for me and for my loved ones, but also for the future Jellybean. And yet, tuning out the news of my country and the world in which I live is not an option for me. I am simply going to have to learn (even more than I already have) how to offset the inherent stressors of being invested in our nation and our world.
So, this is my new reality. The outcome of this election has truly left me heartbroken, confused and deeply angry. But as I told Samantha this morning, it is now time for us to mourn, to grieve and then to work harder than ever at becoming the best versions of ourselves. I told her that in the battles between our lesser and better angels, there are defeats. That this defeat is life-changing. But we must not embrace bitterness. We must see the world more clearly and then move forward, intentionally and towards light, one step at a time. I must do this because this approach aligns with my deeply held spiritual beliefs, my duty as a Patriot and my purpose as a human being. It aligns with my feminism, my commitment to the cause of advancing human rights and my core identity. And honestly, it is absolutely necessary in order to minimize any progression of my disease that may occur as a result of living in an increasingly unrecognizable America.
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