Dearest Loves,

For someone who loves words, I am having trouble finding the right ones; this is the hardest love letter I have ever had to write.

I guess I shall start with “I love you”. I love you for caring about me and for supporting me, when I am fun to be around, and when I am a mess.

Some of you have held my hand at my darkest hours; There are some of you whom I have never met; Your presence in my life is my charm, which, as I have mentioned before, is probably my favorite word (in all parts of speech).

For years–during my postpartum, but even before that if I am really being honest–I have felt lonely, sometimes. I felt like an other. As my soul friend said to me recently, “We are each others’ other.” I felt as though I had more fears than other people, more anxieties, more insecurities, more failures, more doubts, and the list goes on. But because of you, my loves, I don’t feel that at all anymore. Not one little bit. I feel like I am a part of something, and that something is so beautiful and pure and good. And for so long, I wanted to be beautiful and pure and good. And your presence in my world is showing me that I deserve this love, even when I find it hard to believe.

Today, my daughter and I were cuddling on the couch in the basement, just talking as we stared at the beams of the unfinished ceiling, and she asked, “Mom, if I tell you something, will you give me a time out?” Never really a good intro, but I told her that she can always tell me anything. “I think you are really sweet because you never yell. Sometimes daddy yells, but I like it better because you don’t yell.”

“That is because I am someone who stays calm,” I explained to her, which is true. I don’t yell.

“Am I calm?” she asked.

“No,” I answered, honestly. “You get upset and when you do you cry and sometimes you scream when you cry and it is very loud and it hurts my ears.”

“Am I a cry baby?” she asked.

“No, you are not a cry baby. But you aren’t calm.”

“I have never seen you cry sad, mom. I have only seen you cry happy.”

Obviously, that is not true, as I am sure that in the past year she has seen me at very low points; but for some reason, the image that sticks with her is a happy one; she sees me as emotional, but also well.

And an enormous part of my wellness is because of you, dear loves. Your support, your empathy, your compassion, your generosity, your thoughtfulness, your kindness, your bravery, your companionship, your cheerleading…

You keep me going, even when I feel like everyone and everything else is trying to knock me down.

You see, life is life; it gets hard sometimes. But your presence also makes my life good. Fun. You make me laugh with silly posts and texts, you hold my hand while spilling secrets in bed, you let me squirt sriracha into a martini while we laugh so hard together that we can barely breathe.

When I experienced inpatient hospitalization and then, later, another serious treatment plan, I confided in you that I was worried about being able to keep it all going; my health, my duties at home and my blog.

And what did you do? You all offered to help. To bring my family meals. To write guest posts for me. And that is when one of you coined the term #teamMEA.

Mommy, Ever After is my third child, and you are like the amazing playgroup that I met because of having given birth to this baby; the kind of playgroup where the friends around you in the circle on the floor are your friends for life.

Jim Morrison said, “Friends can help each other. A true friend is someone who lets you have total freedom to be yourself – and especially to feel. Or, not feel. Whatever you happen to be feeling at the moment is fine with them. That’s what real love amounts to – letting a person be what he really is.”

And that quote right there means a lot to me (and not just because I trekked through a hailstorm in Paris to visit his grave). As I have gotten older, I have learned the difference between true friendship and that which is not. And it’s OK to have acquaintances. They serve their purpose. It is better to have people to say “hello” to than a bunch of enemies.

But you, my loves, are not the latter. You are my true friends. You care about me and I care about you. You love me at my lowest. You lift me up when I feel most lost. You cheer for me the loudest.

So, what I am saying, loves, is that you’re stuck with me.

For your love, I will be eternally, endlessly grateful.

Because of your love, and a few feathers, I will be able to soar.

Love, always,

B

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I am choosing to interpret them as reminders to be strong.

It is hard, sometimes, to remember, but, as my fortune cookies said on Sunday night, “Fate will find a way.”

Yesterday my mom randomly spotted this feather on the ground, next to me, in a place where it shouldn’t have been.

And then this morning, my daughter came into my room to snuggle in bed as we were all waking up, and handed this to me:

This is the bracelet that honors my late Uncle; my superman.

Why did she bring it to me, today of all days, to wear?

Because, as this beautiful spirit just texted me, “And tomorrow. We march forth.”

It will be 8 years ago tomorrow that we lost him to melanoma.

This beautiful friend has reached out to me every single year on this day since.

In any case, because yesterday was both triumphant and hard, I feel so blessed that my angels are reminding me to stay strong,

as always.

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I had at least a handful of moments where I would catch eyes with my son and smile and he would beam back at me with his grin that is becoming more toothy by the day. I think there is a small part of me that fears that he doesn’t love me the way that he could or should because I didn’t exactly make the best first impression. But every time I see him smile like that, and when he nuzzles up to me, right thumb in his mouth, left hand reaching for mine, I know that he loves me, too.

I feel particularly emotional today for no one reason. No, it is not hormonal. Perhaps it is because of what I wrote last night and all that it conjures for me, or perhaps it is from some other stressful things in my life. I just feel extra raw.

And I have no idea why, but today I cried. A lot. And it wasn’t sad crying. It was just emotional crying, if that makes sense.

I cried while reading some personal messages that I received today. I am humbled, truly, when people share themselves with me, as I have with them.

I cried about stuff related to my desire to publish my book (I want to help others so badly!!!).

I cried when I took my daughter to the Pediatrician and saw a new baby in it’s infant seat. (perhaps that was sad crying). I felt so wistful. It ached.

I cried as I made my daughter the appointment for her FIVE year old check up. How is my daughter turning five this year? The receptionists talked about it incredulously as well, as they remember her as a newborn.

I cried when we were in the actual exam room; we had a pretty long wait (as she was given some tests) and I started to sing to her from my new favorite part of her new favorite musical and she stopped me, because she said that the people in the other rooms would think that I was the real Baker’s Wife. I am still not sure why that would be a bad thing (maybe she thinks they would steal me and throw me into the woods?), but I cried at her innocence.

I cried when I asked her if she loves performing and told her how much it has always meant to me. I welled up trying to explain to her how it has forever been my dream and I was so moved by the poignancy of our talk.

I cried on our way home from the doctor, which is literally down the street, because as we approached our normal turn, Queen’s “Somebody to Love” started to play and I said, “You have to hear this song, do you mind if we drive around a little bit?” (we had her dad’s super fast new car and could zip around the streets).  She was obviously game. I told her that it was Freddy Mercury singing. “Oh, Queen.” she replied. And I belted out the words and then, when it ended and we pulled up in the driveway behind my pink peace sign, I cried to have had that experience with my little girl.

I cried this evening, after I put my son to bed, when it was time for me to give a final snuggle to my daughter. I noticed that there were black drawings on some of the furniture by her bed. It is a well established rule in this house that markers are to be used only on paper (and this rule was implemented after certain dolls were colored, etc.) I cried because I saw the fear and pain in my daughter’s eyes. And I had a wonderful parenting moment. I told her that I was not mad at her (her biggest fear), and that I was proud of her for being honest. I told her that we all make mistakes. She asked me not to tell her daddy and I told her that I tell him everything. She asked if she could snuggle on me for a little. Her eyes. Those sad eyes.

I cried tonight when I watched the Season 1 finale of Broadchurch.

And then I cried afterwards when I went up and looked at my sleeping daughter in her bed.

On my way to my bedroom, I looked down at my sweater to see this:

Ok, I thought. I’ve got this.

All of these little crying sessions have been very small, perhaps even too small for anyone else to notice, and part of me thinks I am holding in one giant deluge of tears. That remains to be seen.

But there is one positive that I take away from having an emotional day like this; it means that I am keeping the promise I made to myself to “cherish the mundane”.

I had a cold day in with a sick child and a needy baby and I was able to enjoy them. Not all of the time. But most of the time.

And that shows me how far I have come.

Or, as some may say, how far I been able to travel out of the woods.

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It was on Thursday, New Year’s Day, and one minute it was sending and receiving texts (despite being shattered and an eyesore) and the next minute the screen became completely dysfunctional. I could not use it at all, which meant that I could not swipe the screen to unlock my phone, as I watched the growing number of text messages that were coming in.

If this were a year ago, I think I would have had a panic attack at best or, more likely, a nuclear meltdown. I used to be very dependent on my phone, as it was my lifeline to the world (I thought).

Instead, I sent emails to the people with whom I was communicating, just so they would know I wasn’t ignoring their messages, and powered the thing down.

I made an appointment at the Apple store for late in the day Friday, but because I ended up being sick, I could not go. I made an appointment for Saturday afternoon, so that my husband could handle it for me. And on Friday, my friends helped me by taking care of my kids, my husband worked a full work day and, amazingly, I was still able to communicate with them, as well as the doctor whom I called, the nurse who called me back with advice, the pharmacy and several other people via email. I am someone with separation anxiety, so the idea of not being able to communicate with loved ones is a very scary one for me, but we found ways.

So, yesterday, my husband gave my phone to the people at Apple and they said it should be ready by 5pm. But guess what? We didn’t go out to pick it up. We will go at some point today.

That is right; I deliberately chose not to run for my phone the moment that it was ready for me;

Let me tell you why.

There were many times in the past few days when I have wanted to reach out to people quickly and easily, or snap a picture or log in to my Instagram; but instead of experiencing my children from behind the lens of my semi-decent 5c camera, I just lived with them. I savored the cute moments, and got used to watching them, as opposed to snapping their picture, editing it with the right filter and posting it for my friends (or the world) to see.

I was much more present.

While my friends spent time at my house, I did not think about how snap a photo of my daughter cuddling under the covers with our guest; I watched them, and smiled, and felt happy.

When my husband and I watched TV, I wasn’t busy looking down, responding to emails and checking newsfeeds.

Please do not let this come off as holier than thou. I will be picking up my iPhone in a matter of hours and I’m sure that I will go back into the fray, but I have to be honest; I found being phoneless extremely liberating.

Anyone who really needed me knew how to reach me. I wasn’t beholden to any thing.

This really struck me, as think I enjoyed the faces of my friends and family a little more this weekend.

Just this morning, I held my son as he fed himself his morning milk. He tried to find a position in which he could access the milk flow, but also nuzzle into me. My son, who is usually moving at a mile a minute, wanted to get close to me, and although that may seem like a given for most people, it is not for me.

Recently I wrote about adding our son to our family, and the love we all have for him. Just last night I was talking to my husband about it, as the combination of not having a phone and spending a couple of days in bed has given me a lot more time to think and reflect. I was thinking about that thing that people always say, about how they didn’t know how they could possibly have any more love, but then, as soon as their next child was born, their hearts grew instantly. It’s like a thing.

But for me, I have to be honest, I don’t feel that way. I don’t feel as though I now have more love than I did before.

Please do not misinterpret me. I love and cherish my son; I find him to be extremely cute and silly and loving and hilarious and he has taught me to be stronger and braver than I ever thought possible.

But, as I said to my husband last night, I feel like the love for him was always there, in me. It was just waiting for him. My heart did not grow when he was born; he just filled the space that it had reserved for his presence.

I know this is an odd perspective on things, and I can assure you with great confidence that I do not have less love in me than others; in fact, I have been told that I am a walking heart, brimming with love.

I think that I feel emotions more deeply than the majority of others. I don’t wish to sound cliched or insincere, but it is definitely a blessing and a curse to feel the amount of passion and adoration and intensity that I do, as there is a flip side, where my lows can get pretty low. I am sensitive, get hurt easily and deeply and hold onto pain that perhaps others can compartmentalize or shed.

The way I felt this morning, when my son tried to find my nook in which to rest his head…

I don’t even have the worst to describe the swell I feel inside my chest right now.

After finishing his milk, he and his sister played a little bit with some toys, before discovering an enormous cardboard delivery box in our entry way (our Amazon subscription fulfilment) and they crawled in an did all of the things that children do with a cardboard box. They had the best time together, squealing with laughter. And I didn’t even think to reach for my phone to snap a picture of their cuteness. I just watched, savoring this moment, branding it to my memory.

Now, I am guilty of sitting in front a screen while my children play. In fact, my daughter asked what I was doing and I said, “I am blogging.” and she said, “Oh. Mommy, Ever After?” as I recently explained to her what it is that I do.

But I have put down the laptop several times to watch them, to answer their questions, and to thank my daughter when she walked past me and said, “You look very beautiful. Well, you are my mom.”

I am going to try to be better about this moving forward, as I will certainly feel the itch to snap and share once I have my phone back (though J and my husband have decided that I am strictly forbidden from using my phone until it has one of those crazy, bulky protective cases).

Now, this is in direct conflict with the blog and brand I am trying to build; I constantly need to snap featured images for my posts, and sometimes that takes time, as you may have noticed, on my public site and Instagram account I do not post photos of their faces, but instead, they are a bit hidden.

(By the way, I realize that I broke my cardinal rule in the featured photo of myself of my site, as I asked the tech people at Brand Revive if they could “please Photoshop out the baby from that picture?”, which I guess they could not, as there is a baby on my lap, but you don’t know if that is my baby or a stunt baby, so I feel a bit less disloyal to myself.)

But I am going to try to snap the cute or funny or powerful photos when I see the moments happening, and then put down the phone. I can edit them later. They can wait to be posted.

I said that I was going to strive to be a better person, and while I am not attaching any value judgement to the use of smartphones and screens in child rearing, for me, I truly am not, I know that for me, personally, I am able to be more attentive when I am not trying to type and post.

And on that note, my kids are playing together with a cardboard princess castle and I am going to sit on the floor and join them, with my lap top closed and put away.

And since I typed that last sentence, they started to fight over the castle.

But this is life, folks. And I have to live it.

No. Let me correct that.

I want to.

The post i’MHERE. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

If you check out my about me page, you will see that I have a literary agent who is working to shop my book to publishers.

I wrote the original proposal back in May; I was in a different place and a different state of mind and a different phase as a writer. I actually re-wrote my proposal recently (or, more accurately, edited it heavily) so that it would read more like a narrative as opposed to blog posts being slapped together.

And do you know what is so nice? All of you who have asked me to “Please write a book!” and have told me “I can’t wait to read any book you write!” That is so flattering and touching and I promise that if I do get a chance to publish the book I am envisioning, it will not just be “Mommy, Ever After” with 900 blog posts that you’ve already read, crammed together to make it look like a story. I have new things to say. Trust me. So many new things.

In any case, as I mentioned before, the book structure in my proposal is in 3 distinct parts:

“A Happy Story”, “A Hard Story” and then, finally, “A Hopeful Story”.

Under those broad sections, I wrote some sample chapters and outlined others. Under “A Hopeful Story” the phrase I used to describe my relationship with my friends is “The Power of Friendship”. It seems kind of trite now, so I may have to do some more editing, but the message that I was trying to convey has only solidified and strengthened in my mind since I first outlined that chapter.

The development and tightening of my friendships was probably the most defining part of last year (when talking about things happy and hopeful, that is). I say this all the time, it should become my tag line, but my friends have become my family. I end text messages to my girls, saying “#friendshipisthickerthanblood”. But I really mean it. I can’t even begin to tell you all of the things that my friends did for me last year; from childcare support to emotional support, gifts and care packages, company and companionship, and gentle hugs when I was suffering and tough love when I needed it most.

But, I think that to better illustrates just how great “The Power of Friendship” is to me, I should just talk about one, single day. How about today?

Today was supposed to be a special day; J‘s dear college friend who subsequently became my dear friend, had planned a trip to visit us. We were all so excited.

I woke up this morning, late, feeling sick. My nose was stuffed, my head was pounding and I felt nauseated (an odd combination of symptoms). It may have something to do with my ear infection. In any case, I could no longer keep our fun day of activities and plans.

So here is what happened instead:

Our friend still came to town and both girls got to my house this morning just after nap time. And since that time, I have barely lifted a finger. They have taken care of my children, gotten me matzoh ball soup from the deli, picked up my prescription drugs from the pharmacy and taken my daughter out on a special date. Imagine, a friend from out of town, coming all the way from another state, just to take care of a sick friend and her two little kids. But it is her joy. That is the thing. This is actually funny; as I am typing this she just emailed me (as my phone went kaput last night) to show me a photo of my daughter and I thanked her and this was her exact reply. And I quote: “For what?? Literally for nothing. You don’t know how much this is making me happy.” What did I ever do to deserve this kind of kindness?

And that is just ONE example of friendship today. I woke up this morning to an amazing email from one of my new and most cherished friends who feels like she has been my friend forever. It said this:

“Anthem of 2015?
“One day at a time…sun gone shine” “

And included this song link.

This woman is a busy mother, has a tremendous amount on her plate, but took the time to think of me and send me some happy inspiration. What did I ever do to deserve this kind of thoughtfulness?

Finally, Twin had forwarded me a beautiful article about affirmations and it is such an interesting perspective and makes me want to try it (it is from a site called Daily Om) and in her email she wrote to me about how much she loves me. What did I ever do to deserve this kind of love?

And these are just a few examples and the sun hasn’t even set.

So much defined 2014, but I am slowly starting to let the good outweigh the bad. There was a time I thought that it was impossible. Then, there was a time when I was terrified to try to improve.

But now, I want to be better. Because look at all that I have to live for.

So for now, keep your fingers crossed for me that this illness is short-lived, that my book finds a publishing house that is the perfect fit and that my friends always, always know how much I treasure every little thing about every little thing.

The post The Power of Friendship. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

By the way, you must remember, I am the girl who has only had one set of business cards in her entire life…

and they were Betty Boop business cards I had personalized for me at FAO Schwartz that read, “Star of Stage and Screen”.

The fact that I have a whole team is extremely exciting and entirely humbling, to say the least.

I have spent the past four and a half years writing about nursing a toddler and nursing colds,

meeting milestones and making mischief and making mistakes–

and this next step–this leap of faith–has been huge.

In any case, we were discussing Mommy, Ever After and the new site and some real businessy things that are too businessy for me to even try to explain,

and then we ended the conversation with her saying, “Your voice is different in this “new” MEA. I can’t really put my finger on how, but it reads differently.”

And I think I get what she is saying. The fact is, Mommy, Ever After has evolved and morphed and shifted in ways I could have never predicted when I started writing. It used to be more of a daily diary, with tidbits about my goings-on and the chronicles of new parenthood.

It was my baby book.

Once I started developing an audience, I wrote more in depth posts, serializing stories like how my husband and I met, how we got engaged, my birth story, etc.

I talked about tutus and dance parties and sparkly shoes. I talked about some more poignant things, like my lost loved ones and how that has given me my thing for feathers. But, one thing that hasn’t changed is that I have always been really honest. I have called myself out for being crazy, I have talked about my weaknesses and fears, I have asked for help.

Because I have always wanted to help. I wanted people, women or men, parents or teens or grandparents, to be able to read a post and say, “I am not alone.”

That was when Mommy, Ever After was “A Happy Story”.

And then my life took an unexpected turn. “A Hard Story”.

And as I slowly climb back up, step by step, day by day, sometimes minute by minute, I do feel like I am living “A Hopeful Story”. Because I refuse to give up.

In any case, the conversation with my manager inspired me to tell you a little bit about what you can expect, in just the coming week, as we all get acclimated to our new home here.

(By the way, I hope you like our new digs. If you get the chance and have not already, check it out from a computer. There is so much more to see in a less condensed way.)

So this week I will be:

Giving a tour of the site, so that you can see all of the new features I have to offer. I will guide you to the best places that will meet your needs and you will learn how to use all of the new buttons and categories and columns most effectively.

Posting the sequel to my old post about music; because since I published that post years ago, I have been lucky enough to become the lead singer of an amazing band, Fox & the Hounds. It has changed my life for the better (and for good).

Sharing a behind-the-scenes look at an amazing skincare line, as you learn everything you have ever wanted to know about how to reveal your most beautiful self. And not just outer beauty; these ladies are all about supporting one another, encouraging true teamwork and being positive cheerleaders for friends, colleagues and life.

Exploring the world of anxiety, which is an affliction that so many people face, but so few actually verbalize.

Reflecting on my recent Hanukkah experience and all of it’s firsts.

Telling the stories of our fun holiday happenings with The Tribe.

And just being the Me(a) that I have always been; forever candid, sometimes cray cray, occasionally humorous and ever so grateful.

So settle in, find a cozy spot and stick around.

The best is yet to be.

The post What is in store? Ever so much more. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

She didn’t know that The Beach Boys concert with my family was my favorite concert ever. EVER.

She didn’t know that “God only knows what I’d be without you.” is the phrase that I use to describe how I feel about my husband.

She just knew that it was beautiful and that it featured a feather prominently.

And this brings me to tears; the friendship, the music, all of it.

I hope you enjoy.

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“What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.”
-T.S. Eliot, one of my favorites.

Last night before bed I scanned my night table for my glasses, and took a minute to note what I keep there, next to me, as I sleep.
I don’t have much, but everything is meaningful. I have one of my crystals (of course).
I have a mirrored frame, containing a small piece of art that reads “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.”
In the far back corner, hidden behind a silver carved wood box, I have a feather or two and (don’t judge me, please) my lucky purple underwear, folded and twisted up into a tiny little knot. Unidentifiable to anyone but me. My protection symbols. Ok. I know it’s weird. Whatever.
I have a photograph of Ernest Hemingway, older and bearded, writing at his desk.
And tucked away, behind it all, I have a few pieces from the hospital. They remind me of where I have been, where I no longer wish to be, and where I hope to go.

The pins are from a night earlier in my stay, when I was doing a partial hospitalization outpatient program and staying in a beautiful local boutique hotel. My dear, kind, amazing friend came up one night to sleep over with me, so that I would not be alone. Since my hospital was located a few miles from a lovely, quintessential college town, I met my girl at 6:30 that night, once my program for the day had ended, and we spent the evening walking around, through the college apparel shops, the pharmacy, clothing stores and savoring every second in their real, actual book store. We don’t have many (if any) of those around anymore. I must have lingered in the far back right corner between Hemingway and Fitzgerald for a good 10 minutes, just running my hands across the spines of “in Our Time” and “A Farewell to Arms” and “An Immoveable Feast”, like I wanted to inhale them.
At the checkout counter, they had these silly little pins for $1 each. We each picked out a couple, and I keep mine by my bed, because they make me smile. They make me think of this time of great transformation, but also of my great fortune to have a friend who would drive all the way to another state, after a long day of work, to spend 12 hours in a hotel room with me, just so that I wouldn’t have to sleep by myself.
There is also a beaded bracelet, that I accidentally made too big during a Sunday morning art therapy session while I was inpatient. I remember stringing each bead on carefully, knowing, as I did it, that I wold save this simple, silly little craft forever.
I guess subconsciously I keep these things, this strange collage of items, in the place that is closest to me as I rest,
hoping for healing, protection and guidance;
that somehow some of the powers of the crystals, and the safety of the feathers and the weight of the hospital stay and the wisdom of Hemingway and the reminder of eternal love will seep into me during slumber.
Hey, who knows how these things work.
Each night as I fall asleep I pray for a new beginning the next day; a new place from which to start. And, if nothing else, I can always rest easy knowing that, undoubtedly, Tulips are better than one.

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