the day of mother, 2013

Last year, I wrote a blog post on how hard this day is for me.

Some things get easier with time. Others don't.

This year is harder than last.

*

since last mother's day

my college roommate is pregnant.
one cousin's wife had a baby girl. another cousin's wife is pregnant.
the friends I stayed with during hurrication got pregnant with twins, without trying

one friend listened to her baby's heartbeat at one doctor's appointment, and then heard nothing the next

I attended the memorial service of a friend's mom

and held her baby at the back of the funeral home.

two friends started trying to have a baby before they got married:

one is now in her second trimester

and one was inseminated last weekend.

also last weekend
a friend had her third IVF transfer:
all of my fingers and toes are crossed.

one friend accidentally got pregnant.

one friend accidentally got pregnant, then had an abortion.

I buried my grandmother 

next to my aunt (her daughter)

and wept with my cousins (her daughters)

friends I introduced tried for almost a year

and had a baby girl last fall

and then, of course, there are profile pictures that are not you, but your child

x-rays of people's internal organs

oversharing about everything from placenta to lactation

watching your friends' bellies swell

and hearts mature with acceptance

and loving them all

or, simply, trying your best.


*

A friend once told me that I'd done the hard part: I'd already found the man I wanted to have children with.

Disagreed.

The hard part isn't finding someone whose genes you'd like to pass along and whose parenting values/skills align with your own.

The hard part is keeping him; loving him despite all of his expectations and flaws; loving him for who he is in the present, not who you hope he will be in the future.

The hard part is neither of you losing yourself in the process of compromise and change.
The hard part is surviving the challenges, the complications, the mourning.
The hard part is waking up every day and choosing to love someone you may not like very much in that moment.

The hard part is finding someone who wants to keep you, who will love you despite all of your own expectations and flaws, who will love you for who you are today.

Today, I am sad.
Today, I am not easy to love.
Today, I celebrate and empathize and mourn with my friends, near and far.
Today, I must simply try my best.

Boston

I wrote this poem on Tuesday (4/16) when it was a sticky 85 degrees in New Orleans.
I'm publishing it today (4/19) when it is a rainy 55.

I am cold.
Chilled from the week's events, my own inability to process tragedy, this ambivalent drizzle.

*

Most of my memories of my time in Boston
are of being cold.

My first visit
was August 1991
when a coup was taking over
the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics

I needed a sweater at night.

Later trips were to visit a boy I liked:
our first kiss was Spring Break, our senior year of high school
in a parking garage
a few blocks away from where bombs would explode in 2013

our last kiss was in February 1999
in his Harvard dorm room

Then Easter 2001
where I went to my first Red Sox game
in sleet
and drank whiskey I had just (legally) qualified to drink

I wore a dress I'd worn at Christmas 2000
to a church
that marathon runners pass

Mothers' Day 2008
I was there with another boy
his fraternity brothers
and a suede jacket

I have wandered Boston Common
in snow
and in bloom
but always in chill.

Boston, take it from Oklahoma City
or from New York City
or from New Orleans, my current home:

you will bloom again.

and we will keep you warm in our hearts and prayers.

tense

Of all the gin joints?
You came, you saw, you conquered.
But I love(d) you! But.

illumination

Flew on the edge
of a glorious, spectacular lightning storm
across four states

stars above
water below
clouds and electrons between

reminders all around
that I am this close to harm
this close to protection

and this close to love

the moment you will lose (or gain) your sister. forever.

What if
he's
having an affair?

casual

packing for five days:
stretchy pants, warm sweaters, socks
(Carolina spring)

resume

"mother"
wasn't on her
shortcomings
list