Towards Recovery

Oh, my lovely friends, thank you so very much for your energy and thoughts and prayers. So appreciated and very helpful. She is through the surgery but struggling in the post-op phase with some nasty nausea and vomiting and the after effects of someone cutting apart your bones and joints and shoving some metal and silicone parts in. Ortho surgery can be pretty brutal, but I know she is on the road and it helps to know you, my friends in the ether, are all rooting for her. Keep them coming, if you do not mind.

It will be my shift at the hospital soon, but I had some time to myself this morning, a few precious hours of play time, as I think of it. I thought to share some of the pretty here...

Making up a few cards for her to rifle through when she starts to feel better. These hold some great quotes from Dr. Dyer's Dozen. I think my favorite is "Think from the end"...visualize it as you want it to be and work back from there. Great advice, especially right now.


And the quilt blocks march on here. This here is my third block, and then the sum of my efforts.


I am trying not to put too much thought into it, I gathered fat quarters from the stash that struck me as semi-coordinating and have just grabbed and pieced. I think I like it, but it is awfully cheery in color, right? And I have no idea where it is going but I do have the 4th block cut and ready to be sewn. I think one of my favorite part of this experiment is when my points actually match up, not an easy feat as the blocks have required more and more pieces.


And the real accomplishment this morning.

All my Alabama skirt pieces are cut and inked. My fingers are all spotted with paint, but the hard part is done. I find the painting part to be the biggest bump to get over, it takes a lot of time and focus to get the stencil cut and the pieces painted, but once it is done, it feel like smooth sailing. My plan is for black paint with reverse applique for the stems and leaves and then actual applique in cream on the rose and buds.


I almost almost looking forward to a few hours in the hospital at bedside, giving help when needed and stitching away when not.

Thanks again, loves, you are all really the best. Be back here soon. :)

For the Mamas

Of course, every day is a day for Mamas. Every day you have one or you are one or you need one.



Every day you might turn to yours and hold her or argue with her or wish you had a little more time for her.



I do not mind having a day when it is about them, us, her. It is nice to have a day, arbitrary as it may be. Especially when it involves hand made cards with real sentiment, blue sky and cool air in a new backyard,


And lots of quiche. Mmmm. Quiche.


The wonderful thing about a day like this is it gives you time.

Time to realize the privilege involved with this role. The give and take, the push and pull, the ebb and flow. And so if you are a Mama, thank you for all that you do. And if you have a Mama to hug, I send a little bit of love your way to make that hug just a bit stronger, longer and tighter. There is one Mama I think of often, she is Jessica, Tuesday's mama. There is a very special blog event going on right now for Jess and her family, a way to physically provide support to them. Her awesome online friends have arranged an innovative way to give. You can go here....

and give.

Give one dollar, give 10, give what you can. Then scroll down to all the links and find one that looks good and leave a comment on that blog to be entered in their giveaway. And there is some good stuff. You can enter here too. I am giving away a onesie with a hand embroidered emblem and a pair of the lovely soft cotton pants I have made for the boys multiple times.


Here is a similar set to give you an idea.

They are not made yet so if you enter and win you can request a boy or girl colorway for your little. I guess-timate that the size is 6-10 months. I will whip it up (ahem, maybe not whip, but it will get done) and you will not only gain a sweet outfit but also know that your support is felt by a family that needs it. So please, go and donate then come back here and leave a comment and I will draw a name on Wednesday morning. Because we have to do what we can when we know a Mama that has lost. Just one way we can give.

Wagie Ride For Tuesday

Today was a wonderful day.


Some of you are aware that Tuesday's family requested that people come out to participate in a 'Wagie' Ride in Tuesday's name to celebrate her life. Though Colorado was too far for us, we decided to have a ride here, near home, to be part of the family and friends that gather to support the Whitt family.


It was looking a little grim as we had near constant pouring rain from Thursday on. This morning the pounding rain had stopped and the clouds were parting a bit. Tim dried off the wagie and we loaded up two cranky molar-teething-slightly-cabin-fevered kids and set out with the Meesh.



And it turned into the best experience we have had in a long time. Our wandering brought us to our favorite parks, to the coolest of old cars, to wet fields and challenging play sets. A chance meeting with the spiffy LVFD truck, the guys stopped and flashed the lights for the boys and let them get close and see a real fireman. Up hills and down hills, for over an hour we roamed our neighborhood, the two of us watching the two of ours.


And knowing in our hearts that this is the biggest blessing that has ever been given. And thinking of the joy and vibrant life little Tuesday lived while she was with us.

And as we headed downhill towards home, the clouds began to roll back in, the source of life giving water that we so need.

And I could see the blessings all around. And then we brought the boys in for a much needed nap and I held my little one and cried awhile. Because tears and joy can exist in the same space.

I felt with them in spirit and yet so solidly here with my own. Watching them through the lens brings home who they are and what they have become in our lives. The wagie ride for her was also a wagie ride for us. A fitting tribute to a little one that brought such light to my life in the time I had to know her.


How was your wagie ride if you had one? I would love to hear about it.

52 Weeks :: 5

Every Tuesday we would pray for Tuesday, just keep her in mind a little more, put prayers for her before some of the more mundane things that life brings us day to day. Today the prayers continue, I know, and though the content has changed, my prayers are just as fierce.


Please join in praying for Tuesday and the Whitts. There is also a small way to give support to them in this time. Home Studio, an etsy seller, made this necklace for Tuesday.

They have pledged to give 10% of their sales to the family until February 14th. It applies to any purchase of any item in their store and you need to enter the words 'for Tuesday' in the message to seller field when you buy. The pendents I have are well made and it was one way to reach out to a family too far to embrace physically.

“If every day is an awakening, you will never grow old. You will just keep growing.”

Gail Sheehy

Tuesday

There are many many opinions about blogging, so many blogs I do not even know about, have never found and never will. There are real women I have met because of clicking a link, there are women reading this right now who will never comment or talk to me or meet me in real time. There are people seeking and finding, judging and ranting, communicating or bragging. There are beautiful photos and children and ideas and families and thoughts. There is a whole world of words.

I did not expect to have this outlet in my life, found it due to the whimsy of knitting. I delved deeply into the lives of other knitters, found their lives fascinating and joined in.

Over time I made contact, tentative. I found a voice to use, one I have been reassured is my own. I sought and found other Mamas like me, quantified as "First Time Mothers of Twin Boys Born In April of 07 and Learning the Ropes while Juggling Me". I branched out from these Mamas, found good fits and ill fits in the blogs I frequented.

Then I found Her because She talked about her raw and striking photos. I listened to her story of a twin boy, her LostBaby and I cried a lot when I read Kate's words because they strike the bone. Hard. And then make you laugh. I read here when it was set up for other Mamas of Lost ones. And then found Her because of her shattering writing, her cohesive writing, her provoking funny writing. And then I found Her because of her Daughter's battle against a terrifying disease. And now she is A BabyLost Mama, and I sit grappling with how I came to be so very wounded by this loss.

If I had not read Kate, I might have despaired even deeper in the throes of post baby depression and lost sight of what a missed nap really means. If I had not met Bon, I could not have knit her little one a hat. If I had not met Tuesday, I would have missed out on the most precious Warrior baby child...the most beatific Soul, the light of Many eyes and Hearts. I am not sure of the wound left, know mine is nothing in light of her Mama's and her family. But there is a reason. Isn't there? That we find each other in these ways? If I had not met Jessica Kate, I would not know what a true Mama Warrior looked like. And it is something I have never seen, her grace and strength and love.

It may not seem like much, words at a time like this. When lost ones are not mine. When all sense seems gone. I do not regret the finding of these women. And I so so regret that Tuesday died. Because there are no words for a baby lost. Just prayers.

Tuesday Fiona Whitt
10-11-06 1-30-09

with her twin Piper

For Tuesday

I pray sometimes. Actually, I find I pray more than I like to admit. I ascribe to no religion but have a deep faith, in Prayer, in Life, in the Power we hold as beautiful beings that can move mountains.

I have prayed a lot for Tuesday. Some of you have met her through me, I met her because of some of you. And now, she has battled and struggled and been terribly wounded by her cancer. And her family needs our prayers, however you offer them.

I have no other words. No words other than the fact that my heart breaks and bleeds for this family and I can only think to ask for your prayers. For Tuesday, who I have come to love via written word and captured images on a screen. And for all that she is and will be.

Please {Pray}

You must send this Mama Warrior your love. You must. Tuesday and her family need your thoughts and wishes for her new year to be the best ever. Thank you.

A Memory : Halloween '91

17 years ago on this day I was lying in a hospital bed, having survived the worst car accident of my life. It was Halloween night, actually it was Dia de las Muertas (Day of the Dead). We were teenagers, coming home from Knott’s Scary farm, and it was really late, actually, it was early morn, 3 a.m. or so. The driver, another teen friend fell asleep on the freeway and drove off the freeway overpass 2 blocks from the exit that would have delivered us safely home. We were all asleep, my friend, my brother, another younger friend. Out cold. I woke up just as we went off the freeway, totally confused and trying to figure out why Metallica was blasting while we were careening off the road. I do not truly recall the actual impact, but I can still feel the sensation, a vague overall rush of pain, when I do think back.

In a way, I am glad I woke up. That is how I knew we were in trouble. When I came to we were upside down, in a smashed up little Toyota that was on fire. I will always vividly recall the events that occurred. I remember getting out, unable to walk but trying, hearing my baby brother in the car, pleading for us to get him out because he was trapped. He was saying, ‘please, don’t let me die’ and the fiercest rush of power and determination came over my body, I did not even feel my injuries. I remember my friend freaking out and running in circles and me telling her in a very loud (likely screaming) voice that she would help me. I remember getting my brother out, releasing his lap belt as he hung upside down and dragging him out of the car, praying we would not hurt him any worse.

There were no people to help, we were on a non-residential street, the same street my childhood church is on. It took awhile for people to respond, to come out and look over the back wall of their property. But help did come, help that moved us further from the burning wreck as it blew up, help that reassured us we would be okay. I could not see due to glass all over my face, my newly purchased contacts were not longer in place. I begged the workers not to cut up my new jacket, one I had just gotten for my 16th birthday. I told them all of our names, our addresses, our parents’ names, their numbers, and kept reiterating we were not drunk, we were just tired, please make sure our parents know that. I felt eerily calm and heard someone behind me question when I was going to crack.


And then, finally, they had us in the ambulance, piling blankets on us, as I listening to Jess wail. And then I lost it. After knowing we were going to be okay, that we had helped my brother, that someone else would take care of us now , I lost it. I remember starting to shake and ask for my Mama, that I just needed her. And the wonderful EMTs kept reassuring me she would come. But then I started to feel like I was falling, falling, falling, even though I was lying down.


And then, in the only time I have ever felt this, I felt Him holding me. I am not an overly religious person, but He was there, quite literally holding me. And I felt an immediate strength and calm and quiet in the midst of the wildest storm of my life. And in very clear way I began to hear a song run through my mind, this song. I had only heard it once or twice on the radio, but every word was ringing through my brain. And it continued until we got to the hospital. As I came back to myself, I heard an ER nurse comment, “Well, it was a quiet Halloween,” which made me laugh for some reason. Which really hurt at the time.


We received excellent care, we all survived. My brother had broken both back and neck in the accident, I had a crushed ankle and I had gone through the windsheild with face and arms, my friends had a few breaks and bruised organs, but we were alive and intact, no brain injuries, no lost parts. When I think on this, I marvel. After years of working with the aftermath of traumas like this, well, I marvel. I know He was holding us way before I felt him, he was watching us from the minute the car went off the road and out of control.

A few days later, my brother and I were still in hospital. I had not been able to see him, he was awaiting back surgery and I was not able to get up to a wheelchair. But we had talked a few times by phone, reassuring each other that we were okay, we were okay. He asked if he could send me a tape his friends had brought in, one I could listen to while laying around. My mama brought it down a few minutes later. It was a single, only one song on it, the same song I heard that night as He carried my broken body when I needed carrying. I listened to it over and over, at 16 not really comprehending the feeling I had then, the feeling of awe that we had been so blessed, just knowing that there was a reason for this.


The months after were hard. I was a dancer in my school’s dance conservatory and my ankle made it impossible to walk properly, much less dance. My brother was recovering from his injuries, trying to just be a freshman with a Halo on. My face, which initially they predicted would need plastic surgery to correct, healed up slowly but much better than imagined. I credit it to a RN in the hospital. She gave me a special cream called Silvadene, usually reserved for burn victims. She told me to use it daily and it would fix things. And it did. Just another of those miracle angels we had surrounding us in that time.

As I was writing this, I began to wonder why this came up now. I always think about the accident when Halloween comes around, it is inevitable. I call my brother if I am not going to see him and tell him to stay put. We laugh a little, but never really rehash the night. I think the memory upheaval is in part due to the fact that his back went out this past week, a reminder of his injuries from that time. And I have been waking up with a really painful ankle in the morning, my reminder of the earlier injuries. And that I have been looking at pictures from that time since my Dad started sorting through old photo boxes. And that I feel really, really blessed of late in a life that I am very glad I was able to keep. 17 years ago I was still a kid, but one who had found out a very essential thing. That life is so precious, that it can be taken away in a moment, by accident. And that it is to be cherished and embraced.

I think that night long ago has done a lot to dictate how things have gone forward in my life, my choices and sometimes my reactions to things. It has given me a deeply abiding faith that transcends any religion, it just is. And now as a Mama myself, it makes me truly comprehend what my parents must have felt when they heard of the accident and saw us in the hospital.

As we enter the month that helps us to focus on giving thanks, I cannot help but feel surrounded by the true meaning of Thanksgiving. The accident was a long time ago but still makes me realize and find joys in the smallest things in life. I hope this month brings you time to sit and reflect on the things you cherish. I would ask that you offer a few prayers for those seeking support this month, my brother in his trial with his back and his pain and also this little girl, named Tuesday. One of a set, she has been battling an unexpected and aggressive cancer. She is a fighter with an amazing family, but any prayers will help. If you have a moment please leave a comment at her Mama's blog, I know it bolsters the family to know we are praying.