Saturday Spotlight #12

                                 Light

I am in the second week of my photography course.  This week asked me to focus on light - in my pictures and in my life.  What does light mean to me?  My photos also were to focus around one object that means something to me.  A few weeks ago, an old friend was able to get me a ticket to Disney World and we went for the day.  While we were in EPCOT, we came across a collection of various colored owl figurines in Japan - much like those Lucky Cat figurines, where each color represents luck in a different aspect of life.  Red symbolized good fortune in heath and children.  Obviously, I needed that one.  So, my pictures this week contain that figurine in different lighting scenarios.  

      Flat Light  / Natural Light

There are days when my life seems gray and flat.  Where there aren't true shadows, but there isn't really any true color either.  I feel a blanket of dullness wrapped around me.  Not sharp, jagged pain or profuse bleeding of my soul - but a steady sense of sadness.   Heavy.  Unyielding.  All encompassing.  I search for joy in these days and I come up empty handed.  These are the days where I am the least productive.  These are the days where I can't write or paint or create at all.     

These are the days when I feel truly stuck in my grief.  Bogged down by a feeling of nothingness, these are the days when my stare is empty and my mind is blank.  These are the days when I am truly just a shell.  Human on the outside, hollow on the inside.  Sometimes, I feel like these are the worst days.  Even when I am in my greatest anguish, at least I am feeling something.   These flat days of gray are the most frightening to me.  Where I haven't only lost my daughter, but also myself.  

                                                                 Backlight                                                                   

  I often feel pigeon-holed in my grief process.  I feel like some people think I should be in one place, when I am in another.  I feel trapped inside a cage I made myself.  That's what happens when you are so vocal with your journey - people start paying close attention to your steps - and often wonder why you are taking them.  The light in this picture is harsh and glaring.  Scrutinizing.  Part of the anxiety I am beginning to feel about going back to work is a result of feeling watched.  

There is a spotlight on me now:  Mother of  Loss.  I lost my baby.  I am grieving.  How am I dealing with it?  Can I do a good job handling my grief and teaching my class at the same time?   I dread the sad eyes of well-meaning people.  I dread having to say "I'm ok" when I'm really not.  Or "No, seriously, I'm ok", when I actually am.   I hate feeling like I have to explain myself all the time.  I wish I could just magically beam how I am directly into the brains of other people.  That would solve so many problems.                                                                                                      

    Shadow

When I took this picture, this entire branch was in direct sunlight.  The shadow is my arm and hand blocking the sun.  This picture is one of protection.   I am very protective of Kenely's memory.  I want to shield her from harsh words or misconceptions.  But, at the same time, I want to share her with the world.  That is a really hard balance to achieve.    I hear other mothers of loss talk about being reluctant to share pictures of their babies - to talk about their babies - and I totally get that.  
The world does not understand that babies die.  Our grief is often swept under the rug.  People get shifty when we talk about our children, or when we are visibly upset about our loss.  So, sometimes, we hold back.  We shield ourselves and our babies by staying silent because seeing someone cringe at our grief breaks our heart almost as much as the loss itself.  I try to be as honest as I can in this blog, but I will admit, you don't read everything.  There are some things I don't share because I just can't.  It's too much for me to process - and I fear if I write it down, it won't be taken the way I intend it to be.  So, I protect her and I protect myself from the harsh glare of a world that doesn't understand.

                                          

                                                                             Low Light

In this picture, the owl can barely be seen.  She is surrounded by blur and dark.  Even though there are patches of light near her, she is not in them. She is lost.  She sees the light, but isn't sure how to step into it.  And when she does, it is still too dim.  She still can't really see in the darkness.  
This picture is the best representation of where I am right now.  I am trying so hard to work through this tangled mess that my life has become.  With all honesty, I can say that I have never worked so hard at anything in my entire life.  This is the most difficult thing I have ever done, and I imagine it will be the most difficult thing I will ever do. 
It's hard to search for light when your life is so dark.   It's hard to accept that finding light and joy will not negate your feelings of loss.   I think so many people stay in the darkness because they feel that being happy again is betraying their child's memory.  How dare I be happy again?  How dare I try to find hope and joy and light?   The only way to show my love is to commit to suffer.   It's a huge hurdle to overcome, but I am trying my best.  I want to step into that light, while still remembering the dark.  I am working on honoring her memory through things that bring me joy.  I am trying to hold on to that joy for as long as I can.  For now, light is short lived.  I am in the dark a lot.  But, every day, I try again.  Every day, I reach for the light.   One day, I will hold on to it.  One day, it won't slip through my fingers.  


In my life, light means many things.  It is a spotlight for scrutiny, but it is also a feeling of hope and joy.  Like everything in life, it has more than one aspect.  Right now, my journey is walking that tightrope between light and shadow, publicity and privacy, hope and despair.  Like always, I do my best with what I have.  Day in.  Day out.  All day long.  

Saturday Spotlight #5

Oh yay!   I have been wanting to tell you about this project for a very long time, but I had to wait until it was finished since part of it was a gift for a few family members.  You may be familiar with Molly Bears or a Heart to Hold.  Both of these organizations help grieving families by providing a tangible object to hold in your arms, weighted to weigh the same amount as your child.  This is an invaluable service.   At the beginning especially, my arms physically ached for her.   I didn't know what to do with them.  They felt empty and useless.   A friend of mine told me about Molly Bears and I looked into it.  At the time, it seemed like a very complicated process to obtain one and I didn't have the energy for it, so I just kept going.   About a month ago, I stumbled upon a fellow blogger's site who had received a heart from a Heart to Hold, and it got me thinking again about this concept.   I really needed something in my arms.   Not as a replacement baby, but as a way to find my inner calm - and a way to bring some resemblance of closure to my aching arms.   I have never been one for stuffed animals past the age of eleven.  I didn't really get excited about bears or stuffed hearts, but I wanted something.   I thought to myself, "What means something to me?"   Of course, the obvious answer was...owls.   I thought - what if I made myself a weighted owl?   Yeah, that would be awesome!   I congratulated myself on my genius, only to quickly realize my plan had a major flaw in it.   I don't know a sewing machine from a hole in the ground.  Fortunately for me, I have a few dear friends who do!  One quick text message was all it took for my friend Chrissy to hop on board.

After I drew out a basic design, we took a trip to Hobby Lobby to select fabrics.  I found a sweet swirling pattern for the back and wings.   We used blue for the face and a sage green for the belly and the sides.   We scoured the racks for just the right buttons to use for eyes.   Once we had the materials we needed, we headed back to her house to get to work.  We weighed out 5 pounds of rice - which conveniently, comes in 5 pound bags - and shimmied it around in a ziplock to check its thickness so we could be sure to make the owl body big enough.   I cut the design I drew into pieces and then traced those onto the fabric.  This involved a great deal of tedious and repetitive actions - lining things up, pinning them, cutting carefully - none of which I am very good at.   I tell people all the time, I'm artsy but not crafty.  Even though it wasn't my forte, it was soothing to me and very healing to work on this project.  

In one afternoon, we had cut out all of the pieces for three owls.   One for me, one for my mom, and one for my sister.   My sister, living in Virginia, did not get down to see me until Kenley had already been taken to the funeral home.  So, she never got to hold her.   I wanted to make her an owl specifically so that she'd be able to have that experience in some way.   
Over the next few days, Chrissy sewed the pieces together.  I sewed on the button eyes and a tree charm on the bottom of each owl. 
  

        

Then it was time to stuff.  I didn't want a floppy bean bag owl, so we had to figure out a way to keep the rice from sliding around inside.   Chrissy decided to sew several long bags of rice to stuff inside and give it structure.  We divided the rice between the bags.  The bags along the back were stuffed full of rice and the ones in the front were a little looser to add softness

 We padded the sides and ears with batting and then slid the bags in. We sewed up the bottom of the owls and then we were done.  So, after about three weeks of working on and off, we had three owls that weighed 5 pounds 1 1/2 ounces.  I mailed one off to my sister and will give my mom hers the next time we get together.   Mine sits on top of Kenley's Memory Box, next to a picture of her feet.   

I love my owl.   It is something of substance I can hold in my arms when I am missing my little girl.  So, that's what I have been up to these last few weeks.    

Saturday Spotlight #2

The second installment in my Saturday Spotlight series is something I've been holding onto for a while, waiting for the right type of post.  These Saturday posts are just the right venue to showcase my projects without taking away from the rest of the blog.

I've finished another art project.   This one took me a few weeks, mainly due to acquiring materials and then drying time.   I have a great friend who is artsy-fartsy like me and we have been getting together every now and then to make things.   It's been wonderful not only to spend time with her, but also to  put my energy into making something meaningful.

The first session together, I texturized a square canvas.   I wasn't really sure how I wanted to do it because I really had no idea what I was creating at that time.  I just glopped on the Fredrix gel all over the canvas, making twirls and swirls and jagged lines with the white goop.   It was super fun!  Eventually, I settled into a pattern I liked.  After drying it with a hairdryer - and short circuiting the lighting to her studio a few times - it was ready for paint.   I used a watered down golden glaze and with some mahogany colored streaks of acrylic paint.   So, then, my canvas looked like the section of a tree.  Well, a gold tree.

I really had no idea where I was going from there.  I have found that artists do one of two things - either create their vision or envision their creation.  I'm the latter type.   Mostly because if I actually have a vision to begin with, it is almost always something else entirely when it is finished.  I take it as it comes.   So, for about two weeks, this "tree" canvas sat in my house while I figured out what I was going to do with it.

Then, I knew.  I scanned a picture of Kenley's feet and "antiqued" it in a photoshop type application.   I printed a 5 x 7 photo and cut the feet out carefully.   I also had a black and white photo of Mike and I walking on the Cocoa Village pier, so I carefully cut us out of that picture.   For years, I had ideas to use tissue paper to create a mosaic of sorts on my kitchen table with modge podge.   That never came to fruition, but as a result of that intention, I have collected copious amounts of tissue paper.  I layered the tissue paper along the bottom of the canvas to create a "ground" for Mike and I to walk on.  In the air, I created a pink tissue paper balloon.  I placed Kenley's feet inside the balloon and then connected it to us with a loop of twine.  At our wedding, we used antiqued keys as seat assignments, so I strung one of those keys through the twine as a symbol of our bond together as it connects to Kenley.   Although I didn't know where I was going with any of this project, I am still pretty pleased with how it turned out.   It's hanging in my living room.

  

Obviously, there is also an owl there!

Confessions of a (former) Shopaholic

Since it is Spring Break this week, all of my teacher friends have been trying to spend quality "daytime" time with me.   For a teacher, there is no greater adventure than being out in the real world on a weekday!  Oh wow...the post office is open?   AND the bank?  What other miraculous wonders will await us?    Normally, our go-to adventure is the mall or other related locations.  However,  this week, I have come to the conclusion that I just should not go shopping anymore.  It has lost all shreds of amusement for me.   Being a poor school teacher, my shopping experience mostly fell under the "window" category, but it was still a nice outing with friends.  We'd wander through Ross and Target, perusing the aisles and chatting about whether or not this shirt would match the skirt we have at home (too much purple), if that table runner would look good on a dresser instead (if you centered it just right), or if the special edition Keurig is really worth the extra twenty dollars (it is).  Most of the time, our excursion would be broken up by lunch somewhere and then a latte later.  Every once in a while, I'd actually find something to buy.   When I got pregnant, especially in the later months, I loved looking in the baby section.  (surprise!)   I'd ooh and ahh over the little pink Mary Jane socks or the footie pajamas covered in cupcakes.   Shopping was fun.  Not any more.  Not even in the least.  In fact, now all I really want to do is get myself home so that I don't have to cry in public.  While I really do love all of my friends and spending time with them, I am going to have to find another way to do it.  At least for right now.  

First of all, I can't shop for clothing for myself.   For the last six months or so, I have been limited strictly to the maternity section.  When I realize I no longer belong there, I am devastated.   I don't want to have to take off my stretch panel jeans and maneuver a regular button waistband over my tender and floppy stomach - in a size I am not willing to admit either.  I don't want to remember why my maternity pants keep falling down, but how I don't want to stop wearing them.  How I want to keep shopping for maternity clothes because I want more than anything to still be pregnant - or at least be able to hold the reason why I wore those clothes in the first place.  I'm flabby and gross and I don't even have a baby to show for it.   I put my body through the wringer for nothing!   Clothes shopping for me is nothing but misery.

Non-clothes shopping isn't much better. Obviously, anything baby related is out, which is difficult to do since every baby department in the world has suddenly increased its size by tenfold in the last month.  Looking through the purses, there is inevitably a satchel that could double as a cute diaper bag.  Shoes have to be purchased a half size bigger, and if I bend down to put them on, my shirt rides up and reveals the delightful spandex sewn into the top of my pants.   Housewares is full of tchotchkes - and what's a popular tchotchke nowadays?  Owls.  Today at Ross, I did not handle myself well.  My shopping buddy zipped off to the dressing room for a bit, and I wandered around in the kitchen items.   On the end of one of the aisles was a cute little owl.   

                                       

When I walked over to look at it and snap a picture,  (my sister and I have developed the habit of sharing Kenley's owls with each other when we come across one)  I happened to glance down the aisle behind it.  What I saw was the beginning of the end.   Every few feet, another owl figurine was perched upon the white, metal shelves.  I know they are all the rage now and they are going to be everywhere.  I know I've said before that I enjoy seeing them because they remind me of her.  That is still true.  But, today must have been an off day for my sanity because what happened next is not what I'd expected.  As I ventured down the aisle, my body vibrated with the hot tingles that attempt to keep back tears, but usually fail.  My pulse quickened.  My breathing shallowed.   Each owl I saw brought forth a muted moan from my lips.  I walked up and down that aisle two or three times, my hand on my mouth, looking wide eyed at all of them.  For some reason, I had the urge to move all of the owls from their original positions strewn about the aisle and bring them all together.  I didn't want them to be alone.  So, one at a time, I carefully brought all the owls to the same shelf.  I moved the strange golden buddha figurines and the black wooden candlesticks out of the way to make room for my parliament.  All the while, hands shaking, tears streaming down my cheeks. Fortunately for me, no one felt the need to shop in this area of the store at this time (or maybe it was because of me, who knows?), so I was left alone to wallow in my insanity.   After about 5 minutes, I had rearranged the shelves so that all the unrelated items still had a place visible to shoppers, but the owls were clustered together.  What started out as an innocent glance at an end display, ended up like this:

By the time my friend returned from trying on her dresses (three failures, two successes), I was a mess.  Being the great friend that she is, she helped me pick out one of the owls to take home with me. Although, I loved all of them,  I chose the teal one in the center.  I almost bought the two green ones too, but I thought I'd been crazy enough for one day and didn't need to start my hoarding tendencies just yet.  A little over a month ago, I would have enjoyed a day out in the shops.  Today, I just wanted it to be over.  I just wanted to get home where it was "safe" - or where I could at least be insane in privacy.

This is not what I signed up for.   The sign up sheet I wrote my name on involved strollers and diapers and wiggling legs.   It involved hair bows and peek-a-boo.   It did not involve empty arms, a broken heart, and a compulsion to rearrange discount store shelves.   Somebody must have switched the lists.   I don't belong here.  I don't want to be here.  I want to go home, where my baby is waiting - and the only thing that makes me cry is the fact "How I Met Your Mother" is still in reruns.      

D-Day: Remembering Joy

Getting out of bed today was more difficult that I thought it would be.  I wanted today to be a celebration of her life, but I didn't feel too much like celebrating.  It's hard to find happiness when a piece of your heart is missing.  Once I pulled myself together, I got dressed and ready to go to the park.  While I dressed, I sang Baby Beluga.   I used to sing it to Kenley all the time.  Whenever I did, she'd flip around and kick me like crazy.  She loved it.  Today, I alternated between singing and crying, but I got through it, and I felt better.

Mike and I took a picnic lunch to the tree.  We brought a pink balloon and some other items to take pictures.  Then, we released the balloon.   I took video of the balloon release, but the computer is being finicky and not allowing us to view it.  After working out the technical difficulties, I'll post it later.  Since we only released one, there was no pack for her to break away from, but she soared high and true as usual.  The day was bright and clear, but the wind was fairly strong and whisked her away from us.  Here are the photos of our trip today.  

                   A friend of mine gave me this figurine.  It's very fitting.

                              Obviously, we must place an owl in the tree!

                                 Look at her, already trying to get away!

                                    My baby next to the playground.  :)

                               It was so windy, I had to hold the balloon in my hand.

        The balloon reads: " Always and Forever.  We love you little ninja!"

                Mike enjoyed playing with the panoramic feature of the camera.

  

Someone must have placed these flowers here.  Whoever you are, thank you!

It's been a month since she left us, and although my heart is still quite broken, finding purpose and meaning in every day helps me slowly and carefully patch it back together.  Today's purpose was to find joy in her life and to remember the joy she brought us.  Mission accomplished.   

Owl Be Seeing You

About three years ago, I developed a serious condition that changed my life forever.  Baby Fever.  Or, as my sister likes to call it, Baby Rabies.  There comes a time in most women's lives when they develop this same affliction.   Something in her switches on, fizzing and sparking, and illuminates a previously darkened part of her brain.  Once this switch is flipped, there is no going back - and there is only one cure.

When my Baby Fever bulb started blinking, I saw possibilities everywhere.   Wouldn't that mirror be adorable in a nursery?   How cute is this stuffed animal?   Don't you just love these alphabet flash cards?    

I began collecting things mentally - and then physically - for my future child.   A picture frame here.   A sheet set there.  One day at Target, I fell in love with a teal and green poster covered in cute little birds and flowers.   I bought it without hesitation and it became the cornerstone of inspiration for the baby's room.   The color of the walls and the shelf in the closet came from this poster.  The birds became a theme - especially owls.   (Now, I want to clarify that I was into owls before owls became super popular.  If you know me at all, you know I do not do anything simply because it is popular.  I'm actually kind of irritated they suddenly exploded into the mainstream, but I'll get over it.)    

Once I became pregnant, I really ran with the owl theme.  I registered for an owl changing pad cover.  I bought adorable owl pillows.  My friend Monica bought me a tiny owl shaped chalkboard, which I hung in the nursery and wrote on it "Whooo's going to be here soon?". Owls kind of became Kenley's token animal.   When I saw one out and about, I'd think of her and how I was so looking forward to meeting her and showing her the beautiful room I'd created just for her.   

Now that she's gone, owls have become MY token animal. You'd think that seeing an owl right now would be painful - a terrible trigger for a tragic time.  But, it's not.    When I see one, I see her.   I am reminded of her kicking and playing happily inside me.   I am reminded of the excitement I felt getting ready for her arrival.  I think about all the joyous parts of my pregnancy. When I see an owl, I think of my beautiful and wonderful little girl who had to fly away, but who I still love - and who still loves me.  

Today, a dear friend took me out to lunch.   After lunch, we walked around a few antique shops.   This is what greeted me in one.  

Well, hello there, baby girl!   It's nice to see you again!  Mama wants you to know that Owl always love you!