3 weeks versus 8 years

Is it too presumptuous to say we're the beacon of light that can lead you home when life gets a little foggy?!😂
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Listen, alongside my journey has been the journey of every single one of you. Our wagons are hitched so I hope you like where we're going 👍
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Trust is at the center of all exchanges, especially business.

Each week I hear stories about what it took/takes to get your body right.

We are helping you along that path in all the ways we can. Seriously, WE GOT YOU. We can only be this supportive because WE GET YOU.

I don't talk much about my illness. I don't like reliving those days. It was utter darkness. And madness. Death would have been gentler.

The downward spiral of a body desperately trying to find balance is a pain that only the initiated can know. On top of that, being part of a health care system that is constantly denying and pathologizing women's problems, a culture that idolizes thin above heathly, and the mistrust I had for what my body way saying, kept me sick for far too long. For years.

I can barely look at this picture of me from high school. I lost 40lbs over a 6 month stretch. No one asked if I was sick. There was so much positivity about how I LOOKED which went completely against how I FELT.

I was living with constant gut distress (cramping, gas, diarrhea), neurological issues (brain fog, anxiety, involuntary twitching, pain), sleep problems, skin problems, edema, and arthritis. I was a fucking mess. All before the age of 24.

Every single doctor claimed it was in my head. Two of them said I needed a psychiatrist. Blood work showed a b12 deficiency and iron anemia. They diagnosed a mild case of IBS 🤯
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It took losing insurance after dropping out of college to find my way to a Celiac diagnosis. From there I found a naturopathic dr/nutritionist (because that was all I could afford and I exhausted my options) to help guide me in putting the pieces together and "experimental" therapies.

3 weeks. Change started. 3 weeks versus 8 years. Light and dark.

Be your best advocate, find your balance, fucking fight to dig yourself out of whatever pit you're in, and step into your power.

Remember, we're here ✊ we see you ✊ and breathe ✊

equinox labyrinth

To honor the Equinox, Bea and I spent the day among standing stones, a half billion year old mountain range, wild thyme patches, and a lovely space dedicated to St Brigid.

I showed her how to walk a labyrinth. Many lessons about motherhood channeled in today.

Lessons about balance. About walking in darkness. About letting the path roll out in front of you. Having faith in the grand design of it all while walking in confusion (THAT is real faith!). In moments of fear, trust the path. Trust it enough to take the next step. Sure. Steady. That's all you need to do. One foot in front of the other, keep between the stones, and be the fool.

The lessons reminded me of my transition into motherhood. About a month after Bea was born, I was raging and angry and beyond confused about what I (my body, brain, and spirit) went through over those two years between babies. Being pregnant with Callum and losing him in birth, getting pregnant with Bea 4 months later and being terrified I would lose her too (despite all her assurances and messages🙌!), I saw that I was eating myself from the inside out. I had no way of knowing what came next and how to calm the beast.

I felt so much of myself slipping away. I felt overwhelmed by the loss. I mourned. No one talks about it, but giving birth to a baby is easy. Birthing a mother is the hardest fucking thing.

During that time I was working intensely with my therapist-- giving all my trust to him to help guide me through these passages and dark spaces. He reminded me that my body was a slurry of birth trauma, death trauma, and postpartum hormones. I was coming down from emergency surgery, someone else's blood being in me, and a newborn who needed constant nurturing.

He said: trust the path of the Dark Mother. Trust where she's taking you. GO GET LOST, kid.

No one. Not a single person. Ever. Ever! Told me that. We're supposed to stay tethered. Together. Here.

So with his warm hands on my shoulders and words that worked wonders for my heart, I let her take me.

Sometimes it feels like I'm drowning. Sometimes it feels like I'm walking on water. But I let myself get lost in the labyrinth of life, of motherhood, of being.

googoomon

GooGooMon: I just finished up with an appointment when my therapist asked if I ever went to the county fair as a child.

The question instantly transported me to another time. The rush of it all was intense-- so many memories of my dad came racing to the forefront of my heart.

There are times I just drive because that's what we used to do. I roll down the windows. Take ownership of the road. Take confidence in the car. Take the road a little looser than usual. Listen to the same albums.

All in an effort to reclaim those days with my dad. All in an effort to get closer to him. To feel him again.

So tonight, the memory of my first concert came back: Goo Goo Dolls, Orange County Fairgrounds in Middletown NY.

The feeling came back. The excitement. The can't-contain-yourself of it all. And that feeling that sits in the middle of your stomach was there too. Maybe the feeling of thinking about the future when you're young. The promise of openness and horizons. Of a life that will be lived differently.

Above all though, the love love love that I had for my dad to make that moment happen for me. My heart felt so big leaving my therapist's office remembering what he did for me.

So I decided to take a longer than usual sunset drive, throw on Dizzy Up The Girl, visualize my dad riding shotgun, and sing as loud as I could and as best as I could through all the tears.
He was with me. I felt him. I miss him. It's been almost 10 years and I'm realizing now that there are so many things that my adult self would love to ask him. Things that I didn't think to ask about as a 20 year old. About his childhood. About his addictions. About his dreams. About his loves.

There is a place inside all of our parents that we just can't touch. The unknowingness is so vast and scary and even as an adult I have a hard time sitting with it all. I wish I could have one more day with him. But I know the ONLY THING I would really want to do is drive and listen to our favorite music.

And, I JUST googled the date, my first concert was on August 29 1999-- 20 years ago, yesterday ❤❤

callum's milk

this is the last of Callum's milk

I decided to pump after he died. It temporarily curbed the intense grief of losing him. When my life was falling apart, it grounded me in the experience of motherhood. And it taught me that despite my worst fears that my body killed my baby (which it did not!), my body was built to sustain life.

We counted 1200+oz of milk stored in deep freeze. I pumped for 2 months until my cycle came back and I cycled out of production.

My intention was to donate his milk to a baby in need, but it was way too hard to let go. Holding on to his milk was like holding onto the last piece of him. So in the freezer it remained until (surprising) sweet Bea came along.

We've been breastfeeding since the beginning. It's been an intense and interesting road-- one filled with frustration, crying, and screaming from both of us. And a lot of shaming from professionals about needing to use a nipple shield for the first few months.

But under the guidance of a good #lacationconsultant (and a couple mama friends to which I am indebted for normalizing it all @stacbrowne @aliciac215 🙏), I learned ways of holding that didn't hurt my csection incision and it was emphasized that relaxing into the process was more important than weaning from the shield. We got the hang of the whole thing about 3 months in and it's been relatively smooth sailing since.

We started giving Callum's milk to Bea as a supplement at 4 months. Were closing in on the end of his supply (and weirdly enough coming to the beginning of my pumping journey datewise). It feels like the coming together of two stories-- of two lines. A threshold that were going to cross very soon.

My plan for the future is to breastfeed as long as Bea wants. So much about it is the relationship and exchange between a mother and child-- her feelings AND my feelings, her body AND my body. I'm not afraid to admit that I need it as much as she does. Maybe that's because I didn't have a chance to feed Callum 🤷‍♀️ but there is something to the slow approach that seems natural and comfortable and what we're going to do

it's just another day: you live and you die

I forgot it was my dad's Birthday 😳 nothing abnormal there 😏 he NEVER made a big deal about it. It was in the middle of summer when my mom's side would always go on vacation. It was hard for me to remember as a kid and almost impossible as a shitty too-cool-to-care teenager. Now is so so different.

Since he died, I make it a point to remember each Birthday. I miss being able to call him, give him wishes for the new year. Maybe buy him a gift that he would have told me ahead of time to not waste my money on. And I definitely miss hearing him say a version of: "what the fuck, it's just another day! You live and you die" 🤷‍♀️
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At market today, a friend and I were talking about healing our ancestral lines and my Dad's spirit came rushing in to stand by my side. So fast it was disorienting and almost took my breath away. He's not around much these days, busy doing work where he is needed, but the moment I called on him... he came to be with me.

I got home and because of a family members FB post, I saw that is his Birthday.

It's funny/weird/not at all coincidental that things work out like this. Little reminders from our loved ones pop up whether we're looking for them or not.

So here we are on his 50th Birthday-- the last picture of us together-- only 3 months before he died (side note the day before he died he told me that he always loved Brandon because he doesn't care what anyone thinks and he's not a pussy 🤣). One from when I was just born. One from a mid-80s Christmas where he just looks so happy and handsome. One from potty training. One from my Holy Communion when he took his hat off, fake flipped his hair, and told my mom he was ready for his close up 😎 and just the two of us, side by side, same intensity and goofiness and broad working shoulders and kind hearts ❤❤ miss you Daddy