Monday, January 2, 2012

hello 2012


I began 2011 with a poem I wrote, and I'm going to begin this year with the same poem because, as I look back on it, I amazed by how I set the tone for the year so accurately. I would call 2011 the year of transition and change, something I was clearly preparing myself for last January 1st…


Incredible it is, to discover
how fiercely and endlessly
we can hold on 
to a life that has become stale; 
electing for comfortable misery 
over joyous rebirth, 
only to spare ourselves 
from colliding with the unknown, 
the foreign, the uncharted realms 
of a new life. 
But, the clock is urgently begging you, 
calling to you with every tick 
to live life with audacity, 
a life that makes your heart undulate 
with vigor; whether your steps 
are timid or confident 
is unimportant. 
Sometimes you have to question 
the concept of comfort- 
would your life become more brilliant 
and genuine 
if you could endure 
the momentary discomfort required 
to dare to walk toward the unknown? 

  ~Lola Rain 

I can't say that 2011 was a lot of fun, but I did do a lot of walking toward the unknown—it was an intense period of shifting, dreaming, and creating an entirely new life. The momentary discomfort was well worth it…a theme that repeatedly showed itself throughout the year. 


Last New Year's, I sat on my couch on the 15th floor of a modern high-rise, writing a poem, while the noisy city bustled and honked below, the New York City smog chocking me. I had no idea where I was going, but knew everything was going to change. 




I began the year still in a honeymoon/newlywed haze after spending two romantic weeks in Antigua with my husband. We had all the time in the world to ourselves at the beginning of 2011. We slept in, we watched every movie ever made, we ate waffles at midnight, we went on a date every Friday night, we made out on the couch.


Life began to change. I spent 6 months nannying two little boys. I took an 8-hour train ride up North to help take care of my newborn niece. I didn't sleep. I was completely exhausted for months. Amidst it all, I was ready to make babies of my own.  





I watched my mother-in-law become Secretary of State. I walked down the longest red carpet I've ever seen, totally blinded by flashing cameras and TV reporters. I suddenly felt incredibly mournful, wishing I hadn't lost my childhood ability to paint. I started painting again. I painted A LOT (here and here and here and here…on and on). I had my first photography art show






I finally got my wedding photos. My husband quit his job. We spent months in utter panic, cursing the job market and having no idea where in the United we'd end up. We traveled and visited new places. My husband accepted a job in the Berkshires of Western Mass. The very next day we heard from a school in Colorado….our dream location….we're already committed...it wasn't meant to be. We pack up the contents of our first home together and reminisce about the best two years of our lives.




We move in with my mother-in-law for the summer. We desperately try to find a house to buy, and stressfully fill out paperwork until our fingers bleed from paper cuts. We close on a house the very day before my husband starts his new job. Phew!





We find a little peace on a yoga retreat. We find a little more in Vermont….and some more in Vermont. We camp in the Adirondacks….a trip that changed our life forever. I spent a lot of time with my nieces. One of my nieces tells me I have a baby girl in my belly when I am 2 days pregnant. I cry because I don't think I do. The pregnancy symptoms crop up left and right.








At 6 am one summer morning, my husband tells me to get out of bed and take a pregnancy test. It's positive. Woah. Life begins to change rapidly….and I spend the first 4 months in our new house surrounded by boxes I can't unpack and food I can't eat. I'm convinced I have the world's longest running stomach flu (hello momentary discomfort). Then we see our baby girl for the first time on a fuzzy black and white monitor. I am in love. My body is no longer mine. I watch in awe.


Minutes after finding out I was pregnant—too excited to not be blurry.

I thought this bump was enormous…
I was wrong.


Today, I am sitting on my couch in a cozy white house nestled in a small country town, reflecting on a year of crazy tumult and exciting changes, while the silence and mountain air outside my windows soothes me and promises to let me breathe this year. I look forward to the year my first child will be born. That will surely bring about a lot of new changes, but in a way it makes me feel more stable and settled than ever. Here's to 2012!    


1 comment:

  1. So beautiful! Such a heart felt and honest post- LOVE

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