40 Weeks... and then some

40 Weeks: noun. 1. Nine and a quarter months.  2. The average length of a normal pregnancy.  3. That pinnacle day of pregnancy after which a dramatic increase in boredom, frustration and annoying phone calls will often be suffered.

40 Weeks.  It’s that magical day in your pregnancy when you have supposedly reached the end.  For forty weeks (and possibly longer) you have been charting, measuring, counting and ultimately, waiting.  So by 40 weeks of pregnancy the waiting should be over.  The baby should be here.  The dues have been paid.

The Guilt of Motherhood

Why do I feel so guilty?  I've just dropped Bode off for his morning of "school" today, and I feel like I've abandoned him. For four months now Bode has been going to day care one morning per week and by all accounts he has been thriving there.  Sure the first handful of weeks were tough, but he never cried and screamed (nor did I thankfully), and once he grew to trust that I would reliably be there to pick him up every single day, he began to relax and truly embrace his new, stimulating environment.  So just this week Bode began going to school two mornings per week instead of one.  He seemed perfectly content when I dropped him off this morning.  So why do I feel so guilty? 

The Storm is Brewing

There are dark clouds on the horizon. I can see them coming my way. And although the sun is still shining overhead, the air smells like rain and I can sense the change in pressure. A storm is brewing. Having survived the almighty tempest once before, I am ever attuned to the subtle changes in my psyche that signal its impending reappearance. Triggered primarily by sleep deprivation but nourished by a rich broth of hormonal soup, pregnancy and birth-related depression is a frightening condition to which I am particularly susceptible. And the events of the past couple of weeks have put me on high alert.

Potty Potholes and Pitfalls

Fail-proof potty motivation

I am burning with frustration. Burning. Hot and deep in my core. For weeks now we have been in the trenches of potty training, with great effort and great success. Sure, it has been time-intensive, energy-intensive, and demanding of more patience on my part than almost anything I can remember. Sure, there have been setbacks; plenty of steps forward and plenty of steps back. But until today, both Bode and I have always been able to make some sort of progress, no matter how small. Until today, I have been able to keep my cool and my patience, regardless of what happened. Today however, the whole process got the better of me. Today, I broke.

The First Trimester (the second time)

I had forgotten what tremendous upheaval a pregnancy triggers in one’s life – feelings, sensations, emotions, thoughts (hormones) turned upside down and inside out. I seem to recall my first pregnancy being more magic and sparkles than upheaval, but perhaps my recollection has faded. What is burning ferociously in my memory is the immense suffering that I’ve endured over the past 10 weeks and how much worse it was for me the second time around.

....Gives You Wings

So there I was with a broken back, lying in the bed of a third-world medical clinic - still in my bikini, still caked in sand. And there I would stay for the next two days, with minimal food or water, before being strapped to a backboard for 15 hours (the second most agonizing experience of my life) and airlifted home over 1500km away.

What Doesn't Kill You... Part 1



Ground Zero in NYC, my birthplace.

 Each and every one of us has a story; a story that largely defines who we are, a story that would fill the pages of a book. Sometimes there is one key turning point in life that changes the course of one's life. Sometimes it is a chain of events.  Often there is a decision involved; a risk that is taken, a mistake that is made.  The path of my life - at one point (restlessly) comfortable and predictable - was drastically altered as a result of one big mistake that I made, followed by an unforeseen and devastating event that cost four lives.  Here is my story.