Baby Shoes

I'm sitting here eating an entire block of cheese on my lunch at work. Such an activity is frowned upon by my healthier colleagues, so I subconsciously rationalize with the idea that since this particular flavor was purchased from the more sophisticated and expensive section of the grocery store, it must equate some level of dietary fiber. It also happens to be the only thing I feel like putting into my stomach. Lately I've developed a strong taste for corn dogs, black coffee, eggs (any style, so long as there is cheese involved), ice (weird?), meatball subway sandwiches (ok, these have always been a passion), and grapefruit. These cravings, along with a "supernatural ability to sleep all hours of the day" (as Josh puts it), eventually drew me to the isle in Fred Meyer entitled "Feminine Hygiene". There I discovered a plethora of over-priced pregnancy tests. Skimming the brands I was surprised that a "Pregnant" / "Not Pregnant" result window was $5-$10 more than a simple two-lines. Our apparent stupidity as Americans is certainly capitalized on by all streams of business. I made the profound move of taking the simple lined-result-version, believing I had somehow stuck a thorn in the side of Capital America (my arrogant perception of influence never ceases to exaggerate itself). After taking the test that afternoon, I stepped into the shower, assuming the result would be negative as it had in the past. It wasn't that we had been trying for a baby. Certainly when anyone asked when “our family” would begin I would scoff and reply with something like “Oh, life is moving a little too fast right now”…  But the truth was, about two months into our 5^th year of marriage a sort of ache had developed inside of me. And the aching was unfamiliar, like a bruise on the inside that you can’t quite situate yourself well-enough to avoid. Every time I ate or drank, a portion of what I took in seemed to go down into an empty pit inside. Each day I wondered when this “hole” was tunneled without my knowledge and why it remained so increasingly dissatisfied. Watching my friends and family raise babies (a majority of them married after Josh and I) had always been a joy. But letting go of those outrageously chubby faces and handing them back to their parents was getting more and more difficult. I couldn't help but wonder, why hadn't it accidentally occurred? Josh and I tend to do a number of extraordinary things on accident. I'm a highly forgetful person and a number of pills had been missed on sporadic occasions in the past. What was wrong with me? Was I wasting our finances on birth control all the while unaware of my inability to conceive? We could be putting that money toward adopting! Diving into Google's abyss offered minimal reassurance. Countless tales of women unable to have a child flooded the pages in front of me. I found a thousand testimonies of "inhospitable wombs" tied to my birth control, adhd-medication, sugar-intake, even the led paint plastered on the walls of our 1920's home. I even found myself googling the area of Singapore I was born in and scouring Wikipedia for insight into chemicals I may have been exposed to. All of these anxieties inevitably lead to conversations of an unpleasant nature with Josh.

"What if we can't have kids?" I say randomly as we’re driving to work together.

"Why would you say that?" He replies (with a sort of casualty I find abominable).

"Why WOULDN'T you say that?? Do you SEE a baby here??! No."

The perplexity on my husband's face is one I want to believe many men have mimicked. No woman wants to be the only outrageous, irrational, ticking-time-bomb that at times, she is.

"Shannon, we have plenty of time for that. Wait, did your Mom say something to you?"

I'm all clenched in my responses now; "So it’s that you hate my family, huh? You've been holding back all these years...do you know how hard it is for women to conceive after 30?? Do you even care??!"...

The poor man is between a rock and a hard place at this point. If he doesn't learn to fly quickly, he may as well start digging.

"Um, no. No, that isn’t it at all. Maybe we can talk about it in a year...how about a year? ..."

The "next year" proposal didn't go over well at first, but we finally agreed this past Fall that waiting a little further into my masters program was most likely the best solution. The catch was that I was going to go off of birth control in the mean time and other means of "protection" would be necessary, (since according to Google, hormone pills cause babies to be born without eyes....among other things).

The plan was set. November was our first month without birth control. Amidst the stress of the holiday season however, neither one of us were very careful or thoughtful in the moments we needed to be (when is anyone??).

So there I was, getting into the shower, leaving the test to develop on the bathroom tile. I went for the shampoo then stopped. "I should just check..." I thought to myself.  Lo and behold, two lines revealed themselves, one slightly faded. I jumped up and down. Then I cried. Then I prayed. Usually the order of things.

I needed to get my mind off of things as I brainstormed a creative way to break the news to Josh. Someone once told me exercise helps with this sort of thing. So I went for a run. And I hate to admit this (to my own generation in particular), but as the baby weighed heavy on my mind, there was a clear transition in which my arms began to swing forward, keeping their 90-degree angle and closed fists as if to weakly "put up dukes" to an invisible foe. My stride changed as well -- my hips swayed in an awkward fashion, as though I was 50lbs overweight and the rest of my body was at the mercy of their rhythm. "It’s happening" I thought to myself. I'm becoming a mom. Next thing you know I'll be purchasing pants so hiked they force my butt into the hideous, non-shape that so famously defined the term "mom jeans". My jokes will become more dignified and less funny. I will either lose the ability to use a straightener or my hair will simply become immune to its heat. Oh Lord, I think my cheeks are falling…

The days that followed were anxious and long. In an effort to continue stalling, I settled on telling the Peet’s Coffee barista, grocery attendant, gas-station attendee, New Seasons ramen noodle-guy, the crew on an advertisement I was cast in recently, and my sister. That was all sufficient enough until I could come up with a decent “revealing scheme” for Josh. With Christmas a day behind us it seemed only fitting to bring up a “belated present” to him. Though my handwriting (shaking as it was) made the card difficult for him to read, and at one point, he does set it on fire, he manages to get into the tiny box of running shoes and give me the reaction I so wanted to capture.

For my sweet husband and all the patience you give me daily…enjoy.:)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1RkZ9-iQP_0&feature=youtu.be

Apperception

It is a terrible thing to discover that you are, in fact, the villain in your own story.

I began the day by having entirely too much champagne in my mimosa at the family breakfast. Handling any probing and condemnatory comments was much easier this way. Verbal sewage then began to spew from my lips in the car on the way to my husbands' race in Salem. I had nothing positive to say, but didn't I "deserve" to say it?? Passing a homeless man on the street I simmered in the “disappointment” that the man I married happened to be looking at the new bike store just opened on the opposite side of the street. He would be so hard-of-heart -- not even stopping to give the man our spare change. A visit to the grocery store left us arguing. I needed a number of items he questioned incessantly. Rolling my eyes at our back door, I impatiently tapped my foot. “How hard is it to find the right key?!” Vehemently, the words flow off my tongue. That evening I glare at the football game clouding the TV screen when we hadn’t yet reviewed our Home Group Bible Study. 

“How am I supposed to 'submit', Lord? Do you SEE what I have to put up with??!”

And He gently responds, “Do you?”

The Creature

The Creature

A journal-response to the Epistle of Hebrews

I can feel the temperature fall as daylight's steady descent against the window pane completes. Adjusting my eyes I turn the handle and switch the lock. Then I hear it; a low, advancing growl from a corner in the room. I raise my eyes in hesitance to unveil the unknown and meet the gaze of my abhorrence. The creature's skin is stretched tightly between four large talons, and its legs have sporadically growing hairs that increase in length, growing thick at a protruded spine. The teeth are showing, broad and rigid with lips too emaciated to conceal them. A large tongue laps hungrily at its open gate. One eye is swollen shut while the other peers blackly through a thin aperture. The ears of the animal spear upward, skittish and tense. Every breath expands a crooked ribcage to the point of breaking. It has not veered its gaze and focuses on me intensely. Assembling my courage I speak to it:

“Who are you?” The creature adjusts without loosing its stare, massaging the floor slowly and causing grooves to form in the wood.

“Do you not know?” it replies in a deep, entrancing voice, “Or is it only that you now fear my presence?"

"You are not an enemy I've known", I rebuttal, watching it sway forward slightly and glean with a sort of hunger, un-purposed. 

It responds, "Oh but I know you. Since the beginning I have studied your face. It was long ago when you first came to me. Your intrigue was lofty and my mouth whispered assurance. I gathered you up and poured out my poison. You took it gladly; you took it often. There was rarely a night you did not call upon me. Like an addict entranced, you knew I was able. With me, your name remained intact and your dignity went unscathed. I kept out the daylight and hid you from the mirror. My breath was cold as the winter, and your wounds remained frozen. In medicating you, day and night, your once fragile heart grew its shell, beating less often. However, not an ounce of your precious blood was lost. There was never a time your gratefulness to me was voiced but your company was relentless, and that was enough. I have lived here knotted in your midst for years, and now you ask for my name?”

“No!” I exclaim, pressing back against fear and bewilderment. “How can this be? I have never seen or known the evil of your presence! How did you come to me? What disturbing event has brought you here now?!”

The creature only grins, “Child you are confused. The room in which you now stand was not always your own. When you first came to me our visit was brief, and months passed before another came. But soon you began to frequent my door. Afternoons became evenings and evenings became nights. You left items you were sure to miss. They became heavy – a burden to carry, and so remained in my care. My company was more sufferable than returning home and thus, my adoption into your life more self-endorsed than all else. Your seat is worn and your bed is made. Come and sleep Child. You are home.”  

“You must tell me your name!” I cry aloud in disillusionment. 

"My name? My name is Indifference.” 

Enough

I am walking I am treading I am climbing this hill
I am facing I am glancing I am wishing with will
I am striving I am staging I am tired of tire
I am fighting I am biting this old tongue made of fire
You're upon me and I'm holding fast to what I'll never be
Surrounded by the cloud of witnesses who cannot see
And I'm called upon to stand the trial asking all of me
Who I am with who I was with who I hope will set me free

I was born here to beguile,
I was born here to believe
Made for to interpret and created to conceive
I can feel the full eruption long advancing any heat
I'm an alter made for beauty, still preserved and still elite

The heavy weight of all my knowledge reinforces home
It cradles me, indulges me, and carries forth my song
And you in your unfortunately withered, tarnished throng
Will benefit from my attainment, setting right your wrong

Yet, you're upon me and I'm seeing what I'll never hope to be
Surrounded by the cloud of witnesses who cannot see
And I'm called upon to stand the trial asking all of me
Who I am with who I was with who I hope will set me free

Depleted of my hunger I stand still unresolved
To run into a savior's promised hand beneath my fall
As the heart beseeches pleasure I find within your call
The love that I now lack and the heavens I have stalled

I am walking I am treading I am climbing this hill
Please forgive my plated merit you alone can hope to fill