I just want to take a few moments here before Nanowrimo starts - and I devote even more of my time to writing! - to say "thank you" to all of you who have been reading my blog this month. I know it probably hasn't been easy going along with me on this journey, but it has been comforting to have companions. I appreciate that you have stuck with me and continue to offer support, even if it's just by coming here and keeping track of what's happening with me. It makes me feel a little less alone.
Also, thank you for the comments. I've received some very wonderful and touching comments and emails from you all, and they really do make my day. They help me remember that there is a whole group of people out there who care about and remember Lauren, that Geordie and I are not alone in mourning her absence. That means so much to me.
Thank you, for everything.
Showing posts with label family and friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family and friends. Show all posts
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Saturday, October 22, 2011
him and me and her
I lived alone for several years, and I lived far from my family for a number of those years. While in Florida, I had my cat Sarge to keep me company, but most of my time in Japan was as a solitaire. After my last roommate and I parted ways, I decided that the only way I would ever live with anybody again was to be married to them.
Marriage was never something I completely ruled out of my life. I didn't want to not get married. I didn't want marry just any man; I wanted to marry the right man. I also would have been okay with cohabitation, but I had the feeling that marriage would make things easier from a legal standpoint, not to mention just for the sake of convenience. But that was really a distraction from the main point, which was that I wanted to be in love with someone before I considered living with them.
Geordie moved in with me at the beginning of February, 2011. Though, really, "moved in" is just a convenient way to put it. It was possible that it was going to be a temporary thing, a place for him to live while he looked for a permanent job and while I looked for a new one. He was temporarily assigned a position in Hitachi, which was far enough away from Moriya for him to be unable to make a daily commute. So, really, he lived with me on the weekends. The rest of the week, I was still alone. We'd seen more of each other when we weren't living together.
Two weeks after he moved in, we found out I was pregnant. We saw no way for him to be able to leave the job he had, so for a month, he was home only on the weekends. I was pregnant alone, and it was tough going. It felt to me that I was becoming more adjusted to the pregnancy than he was, and to be fair, that was probably true. I lived with the pregnancy constantly; for him, it was a weekend thing. He didn't go through the many bodily changes that reminded me of what was happening or the mood swings that shook me into sudden bouts of crying. Or the tiredness - that sheer exhaustion that knocked me out cold. These were oddities to him, things I had to explain again every weekend. That ended with the Tohoku earthquake, the story of which is far too long to tell here and shall be written about at length in November.
Things changed after the earthquake. Geordie came back from Hitachi, and his company sent him to work in Tokyo, which was an unpleasant commute but one that allowed him to come home every day. From then on, I had him every day and every night. We became a daily occurence for each other, and it was during this time, I think, that the pregnancy became a very real thing for him. It was at that point that we became not a unit of two but a unit of three.
It happened faster than I had expected. One month, I was living alone happily enough; the next, I was living with a family - my family. I had thought that would take longer to adjust to, but by the time we moved to Susono, it was done. I was a wife and a mother, carrying a child that would make our little family complete. I was carrying our child, and nothing could have been more right. Everything was as it should be, and I would not have gone back to living alone for anything. I still wouldn't.
Geordie and Lauren and me. We're a family. We always will be. Lauren is a part of us, still loved and cared for. It doesn't matter that she's not physically here with us; she's here in other ways, and we'll carry her with us for the rest of our lives.
Marriage was never something I completely ruled out of my life. I didn't want to not get married. I didn't want marry just any man; I wanted to marry the right man. I also would have been okay with cohabitation, but I had the feeling that marriage would make things easier from a legal standpoint, not to mention just for the sake of convenience. But that was really a distraction from the main point, which was that I wanted to be in love with someone before I considered living with them.
Geordie moved in with me at the beginning of February, 2011. Though, really, "moved in" is just a convenient way to put it. It was possible that it was going to be a temporary thing, a place for him to live while he looked for a permanent job and while I looked for a new one. He was temporarily assigned a position in Hitachi, which was far enough away from Moriya for him to be unable to make a daily commute. So, really, he lived with me on the weekends. The rest of the week, I was still alone. We'd seen more of each other when we weren't living together.
Two weeks after he moved in, we found out I was pregnant. We saw no way for him to be able to leave the job he had, so for a month, he was home only on the weekends. I was pregnant alone, and it was tough going. It felt to me that I was becoming more adjusted to the pregnancy than he was, and to be fair, that was probably true. I lived with the pregnancy constantly; for him, it was a weekend thing. He didn't go through the many bodily changes that reminded me of what was happening or the mood swings that shook me into sudden bouts of crying. Or the tiredness - that sheer exhaustion that knocked me out cold. These were oddities to him, things I had to explain again every weekend. That ended with the Tohoku earthquake, the story of which is far too long to tell here and shall be written about at length in November.
Things changed after the earthquake. Geordie came back from Hitachi, and his company sent him to work in Tokyo, which was an unpleasant commute but one that allowed him to come home every day. From then on, I had him every day and every night. We became a daily occurence for each other, and it was during this time, I think, that the pregnancy became a very real thing for him. It was at that point that we became not a unit of two but a unit of three.
It happened faster than I had expected. One month, I was living alone happily enough; the next, I was living with a family - my family. I had thought that would take longer to adjust to, but by the time we moved to Susono, it was done. I was a wife and a mother, carrying a child that would make our little family complete. I was carrying our child, and nothing could have been more right. Everything was as it should be, and I would not have gone back to living alone for anything. I still wouldn't.
Geordie and Lauren and me. We're a family. We always will be. Lauren is a part of us, still loved and cared for. It doesn't matter that she's not physically here with us; she's here in other ways, and we'll carry her with us for the rest of our lives.
Monday, October 17, 2011
nine years of Nanowrimo
I remember well the first year I participated in National Novel Writing Month. I even remember the fellow English major who introduced me to it. I signed up on October 24th, 2003; that gave me one week to prepare for the start of Nanowrimo. The goal for that November (and every November following) was to write 50,000 words on one story. Theoretically, all you have to do is write 1667 words per day. It sounds easy enough when you think about it, but putting it into practice is where the challenge comes in.
That first Nano, I wrote about 15,000 words. Nowhere near the goal amount, but it was an accomplishment for me. I'd never written that many words on one original story (I'd written that many for a Star Wars fanfic, but I didn't count that then, and if you ask me about it now, I'll deny its entire existence). It was a terrible story but I've always liked the idea of it - a sci-fi piece about a matriarchal/matrilineal society that was slowly falling apart. The next year, I worked on an urban fantasy and made it to 26,000 words. Since then I've written a historical novel, a couple straight-up fantasy stories, a light comedic fantasy, and a historical steampunk mystery. And there are two years that I really don't remember what I wrote at all. Success did not come quickly; it was 2007 when I finally reached that 50,000 word goal before the end of November. I had a three-year winning streak that ended last year because I ended up hating everything about the story I was writing. It happens.
This year, I am a Nano Rebel. The whole point of Nanowrimo is to write a novel - it's right there in the name. This year, though, I'm taking the creative nonfiction route and writing a memoir of my experience of carrying, losing, and mourning Lauren. It would be impossible for me to write about anything else right now. Lauren is my focus; she eventually nudges out all other thoughts in my head, just as she did all during the pregnancy. Since February, nothing else has been foremost on my mind. I can't simply forget her or let her pass away into nothingness. Neither can I sit and dwell on what we've lost, reliving memories and going over "should haves" and mourning "should bes." I must be productive, and since I have always been better with written words, I shall write.
I meant to be writing all this year. It was a simple task that I gave to myself, and I failed miserably at it. On one hand, I wish I devoted more time and attention to the pregnancy, appreciated it for all the special moments it gave me. On the other, I'm glad I didn't, because perhaps the pain would be even greater for having appreciated every moment. And had I written everything down, one manner of catharsis might have been lost to me. So, now I'll write down everything that should have been written down before, and it will be all the more cherished for what it is now: a memorial to Lauren, her story and our story entertwined, just as she herself enveloped us and took over every aspect of our lives.
And perhaps, as I write, others will be comforted, whether they knew Lauren or not. I know I shall find some comfort, just as I know that the experience will be a painful one. I've already shed tears while writing on this blog; I can only imagine the flood that will come as I write Lauren's birth story and the memories of my pregnancy. But it's something I must do.
So, this year, Nanowrimo is more than just a writing exercise, more than just a kick-start to get me going. In years past, I participated in Nanowrimo because I wanted to - this year, I must. It's not just myself I'm writing for, it's for Lauren and Geordie and family and friends who wanted to share in the story of our lives. I cannot share my daughter in a physical sense, but I can do it in spirit.
This year, Nanowrimo is for Lauren.
That first Nano, I wrote about 15,000 words. Nowhere near the goal amount, but it was an accomplishment for me. I'd never written that many words on one original story (I'd written that many for a Star Wars fanfic, but I didn't count that then, and if you ask me about it now, I'll deny its entire existence). It was a terrible story but I've always liked the idea of it - a sci-fi piece about a matriarchal/matrilineal society that was slowly falling apart. The next year, I worked on an urban fantasy and made it to 26,000 words. Since then I've written a historical novel, a couple straight-up fantasy stories, a light comedic fantasy, and a historical steampunk mystery. And there are two years that I really don't remember what I wrote at all. Success did not come quickly; it was 2007 when I finally reached that 50,000 word goal before the end of November. I had a three-year winning streak that ended last year because I ended up hating everything about the story I was writing. It happens.
This year, I am a Nano Rebel. The whole point of Nanowrimo is to write a novel - it's right there in the name. This year, though, I'm taking the creative nonfiction route and writing a memoir of my experience of carrying, losing, and mourning Lauren. It would be impossible for me to write about anything else right now. Lauren is my focus; she eventually nudges out all other thoughts in my head, just as she did all during the pregnancy. Since February, nothing else has been foremost on my mind. I can't simply forget her or let her pass away into nothingness. Neither can I sit and dwell on what we've lost, reliving memories and going over "should haves" and mourning "should bes." I must be productive, and since I have always been better with written words, I shall write.
I meant to be writing all this year. It was a simple task that I gave to myself, and I failed miserably at it. On one hand, I wish I devoted more time and attention to the pregnancy, appreciated it for all the special moments it gave me. On the other, I'm glad I didn't, because perhaps the pain would be even greater for having appreciated every moment. And had I written everything down, one manner of catharsis might have been lost to me. So, now I'll write down everything that should have been written down before, and it will be all the more cherished for what it is now: a memorial to Lauren, her story and our story entertwined, just as she herself enveloped us and took over every aspect of our lives.
And perhaps, as I write, others will be comforted, whether they knew Lauren or not. I know I shall find some comfort, just as I know that the experience will be a painful one. I've already shed tears while writing on this blog; I can only imagine the flood that will come as I write Lauren's birth story and the memories of my pregnancy. But it's something I must do.
So, this year, Nanowrimo is more than just a writing exercise, more than just a kick-start to get me going. In years past, I participated in Nanowrimo because I wanted to - this year, I must. It's not just myself I'm writing for, it's for Lauren and Geordie and family and friends who wanted to share in the story of our lives. I cannot share my daughter in a physical sense, but I can do it in spirit.
This year, Nanowrimo is for Lauren.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
making it real
It's one thing to know that she's gone; it's another to see it written down in black and white and shared with a community.
An obituary was not on my mind in the days following Lauren's delivery, but about a week ago, my mother-in-law wrote to Geordie and asked if we would be okay with her putting an obituary in the local paper. Neither Geordie nor I had any problem with that, so she very kindly wrote one up. And it was perfect.
Lauren's obituary in the Gloucester Times
Then my mother asked if we should do one for their local paper. I said that would be nice. So, we took Laurie's lovely write-up and sent it in.
Lauren's obituary in the Citrus County Chronicle
I cried a little about this - we should be writing birth announcements for Lauren, not obituaries. We should be celebrating her life, not mourning it. But at the same time, it's a comfort to know that she won't pass unforgotten, that people will know her name and know that she was loved. Is still loved and will continue to be loved. I hold her always in my heart, but I long now - as I longed all during pregnancy - to share her with others, to show them how wonderful she was and how wonderful she would be. I want her to be known and to be remembered, and this is one small way to do that.
Many, many thanks to Laurie and Ramona for making these happen. They are both much appreciated.
An obituary was not on my mind in the days following Lauren's delivery, but about a week ago, my mother-in-law wrote to Geordie and asked if we would be okay with her putting an obituary in the local paper. Neither Geordie nor I had any problem with that, so she very kindly wrote one up. And it was perfect.
Lauren's obituary in the Gloucester Times
Then my mother asked if we should do one for their local paper. I said that would be nice. So, we took Laurie's lovely write-up and sent it in.
Lauren's obituary in the Citrus County Chronicle
I cried a little about this - we should be writing birth announcements for Lauren, not obituaries. We should be celebrating her life, not mourning it. But at the same time, it's a comfort to know that she won't pass unforgotten, that people will know her name and know that she was loved. Is still loved and will continue to be loved. I hold her always in my heart, but I long now - as I longed all during pregnancy - to share her with others, to show them how wonderful she was and how wonderful she would be. I want her to be known and to be remembered, and this is one small way to do that.
Many, many thanks to Laurie and Ramona for making these happen. They are both much appreciated.
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