Saturday Mornings + 17s

Today is Saturday, August 22, 2020. It's a special day. I'm getting ready to wind down the day and go to sleep. I just wanted to write out how I was feeling before the day ended. Today is just too special. For a lot of reasons. You see, I got to wake up and go to the Farmer's Market with my Mom. Just the two of us. We met up there and walked around. Sure, we were wearing masks. Sure, there are the impacts of the pandemic still going on. And to add to that, there are devastating wildfires burning my beloved Northern California (creating a host of issues, including toxic air quality and smoke). Oh, and there has been an unusual heat wave rolling through (bringing days up to the 90's-100's). Not to mention the ongoing reckoning many members of the United States have recently decided to start navigating with the very real, systemic, pervasive racism throughout our country’s entire history. Oh, and the painfully bitter divides in political climate within the United States too...especially as we gear up for a new Presidential election. It's a lot. It really feels like a bizarre apocalypse is going on.

With all of that going on, how could I consider any day during this time as “special”?

* First of all, I want to acknowledge many other people may be experiencing ongoing difficulties as a result of some of the circumstances listed above. For many people, those challenges may not find rest for a while, if ever. I hope for peace and relief for people in their pain and struggle. In the spirit of reflection, my intention with  this post is to find gratitude in some of the blessings I get to enjoy right now.

Here's the thing...at the market today, Mom and I got to discover the new grapes of the season, buy fresh heirloom tomatoes and point out how sweet the mini rose bunches were (reminding us of the pink, white, and red mini rose bunches we bought last Valentine's day together). I loved it. The market is a place where Mom and I stroll, catch up, chat with the various Farmer's Market vendors (who have become our Saturday morning friends), and can just absolutely be ourselves. Saturday mornings are balm for my soul. What adds to the sweetness are the days when Dad, Jacob or other family members come along for the experience. It's really just a tender way to kick off a weekend. For a moment, I am able to take a moment and pause from the unusually bizarre circumstances society is experiencing.

After we got in our cars and Mom drove away, I sent her a quick text message and thanked her for the special morning. Her response: "Love you Sweetheart. Have another great 17". You see, today is another 17.

I need to explain a little bit. You see, 17s mean a lot to me. 

Here's a little "17" history:

• 6/17: My birthday :) 
• 10/17/2017: Jacob + I met
• 11/17/17: Jacob + I become officially "boyfriend + girlfriend"
• 12/17/17: Mom presents the idea to propose to Jacob. (Longer story....see former blog posts for that story)
• Later in December 2017: We book a room at the Capital Club in Downtown San Jose for a dinner the night of our wedding. The Capital Club is located on the 17th floor of the Fairmont Plaza. 
• 1/17/2018: We buy a suit for Jacob to wear on our wedding day + we eat delicious Indian food to celebrate our love.
• 2/17/2018: Jacob + I get married! (17 weeks after meeting each other)
• 2/17/2019: Jacob + I celebrate our 1st anniversary in Half Moon Bay, California.
• 2/14/2020 (a few days before 2/17/2020): Jacob + I celebrate our 2nd anniversary in O'ahu, Hawaii
• And now, TODAY (8/22/2020)... our son, Peter, is 17 weeks old. 
• It also happens to be National Rainbow Baby Day--a day recognized as a day to celebrate "Rainbow Babies". 
• In an article I found online, it explains: "A “rainbow baby” is a term to describe children born after a miscarriage, stillbirth or neonatal death, like light at the end of storm. It’s a treasured day of observance for many families across the country who honor small lives that were lost and celebrate cherished parenthood. Rainbow babies are children born after a parent’s previous miscarriage, still birth or death in infancy. “It is called a rainbow baby because it is like a rainbow after a storm: something beautiful after something scary and dark…It is an extremely emotional and devastating experience to lose a pregnancy [or baby]. To create a life or bring a baby into the world after such a loss is amazing like a miracle for these parents.” (see reference here for article source)

While it may seem like the end of the world has boldly arrived (see above: ongoing global pandemic, toxic ashy skies from raging wildfires engulfing communities, etc…), I think we still have so much to treasure and celebrate: grapes, tomatoes, roses, Mamas, 17s.

There is a song I recently discovered that captures a bit of how I feel about Peter growing up. At about 4 months old, I want time to stand still. The song is called “Slow Down” and in the chorus, it says:

 

“Slow down
Won't you stay here a minute more
I know you want to walk through the door
But it's all too fast
Let's make it last a little while
I pointed to the sky and now you wanna fly
I am your biggest fan
I hope you know I am
But do you think you can somehow
Slow down”

 

I wonder if my own mom thought those same lines today… “I am your biggest fan. I hope you know I am. But do you think you can somehow slow down?” This morning, I wonder if she thought back to when I was 17 weeks old. And noticed the beauty of us walking around the market, celebrating the new 17 week old Peter guy. I relish each of his squeaky noises, the way he laughs when he finds his smile in a mirror, how he snuggles his best friend, Rusty the fox. I just want to “make it last a little while”. I’m certain I’ll feel the same about each new chapter. 

And maybe someday I can have the opportunity on some future Saturday morning, to stroll around with my son, discovering delicious grapes, heirloom tomatoes or fresh cut roses. 

With so much turmoil swirling around me, I find the most PEACE and JOY in the present. It’s in Saturday morning walks with Mama. The way Peter wraps his whole hand around my thumb. The way Jacob holds me close at the end of a long night. Hearing the zingers from my Dad….and then listening to my niece’s priceless laughter in response. Backyard dinners after Mom and Dad come over from a bike ride...some of the most tender memory making. FaceTime with my nephews + Brother in Law and watching them garden and play in the yard...or show me their new collected treasures (like pebbles, cars, or stuffed animals). Heart to hearts with my incredible sister who I can feel my whole self with. Or hearing all of her random stories about strange encounters with other humans. These stories usually make me laugh so hard. Reading random text message threads from friends, usually filled with memes. Happy, simple, sweet walks in the park with lifelong friends. Seeing my family/friends Instagram Stories with Dance Parties, workouts, yummy dinners, date nights with people they love, nature adventures, self-care, and all the beautiful real living in between. Pictures from friends of their "days exploring" gorgeous hikes at places like the beach with pups, babies, or friends. Video updates from friends sharing Christmas traditions or unbelievable scenes from the Danish, English, or Californian shorelines. Connections with former students who remain gems in my life. Updates about recipes or life advice (as she sees it) from Grandma Davis. Hearing her scoff: "oh Amous". All of it. 

I’ve got so much to be grateful for. So much. And honestly, I need nights like tonight where I remind myself of all of the beauty I’ve been blessed with. Because the world is so dark right now. I have been blessed with so many bright spots. From the deepest parts of my soul, I am so thankful for Saturday mornings and 17s. 

Mother's Day 2020

I wanted to make sure I wrote the story of Peter's birth here. This blog has become a place for me to both process and keep a record of some of my life's most significant junctures. 

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WRITTEN SUNDAY, MAY 10, 2020 (Mother's Day)

I’m actually writing this on Mother’s Day 2020. Baby Peter has been fed and I smile as I watch him wiggle his little swaddled legs on the baby monitor, lulling himself to sleep. Today, he is 2 weeks old (plus a day). My heart is absolutely full of gratitude. You see, last year, on the week prior to Mother’s Day 2019, we lost a baby due to miscarriage. “Little Bug”, we affectionately would call that baby, made me a Mama. I mourned the loss of our Little Bug, and my heart ached a little extra on Mother’s Day last year given our loss. When we learned of the new pregnancy fairly soon after the miscarriage, I felt grateful, yet a bit reserved in my excitement. I tried to suppress feeling any sort of joy, in fear of losing this little baby too and repeating the cycle of heartache all over again. After a few months, and many healthy conversations with inspiring people in my life, I allowed JOY to be a part of this pregnancy journey. When the coronavirus began to transform the world, we were curious how our pregnancy would be affected. With my mom as a nurse at a county hospital in the heart of the Bay Area, we are uniquely aware of the impact that the Coronavirus has played in the community we’re living in. We slowly gained a peaceful confidence that everything would work out as it should. With the adjustments made to our working/ living circumstances, my husband and I found solace in the gift of “togetherness” the month leading up to Peter’s birth. The impact of COVID-19 offered us the opportunities to work from home in quiet, calm, and genuinely peaceful circumstances. I recognize that not all work situations offer this, so we were feeling particularly thankful.

 

At the hospital, only one additional person (beyond me) was allowed in the delivery room. It actually turned out to be such a tremendously sacred experience for our little family. There were no “extra” people in the hospital when we went…only essential staff members and essential patients. When it was time to push, the only people in the room were: me, Jacob (my husband) and one incredible nurse. Baby Peter has a middle name after my Grandpa James (Jim) Davis who passed a few years ago. We played my Grandpa Davis’ piano music on my phone as we began the hour pushing and delivery process. I never imagined that situation being as peaceful as it was. Sure, it was painful (thank goodness for the meds!) But overall, the chaos and agony that I previously associated with delivering a baby just wasn’t there. It was uncomfortable physically, but uniquely beautiful and holy. Eventually, the doctor and two additional nurses joined the party. Even still, the room was filled with a deep sense of calm—a gift that was welcomed during a time of global uncertainty.

 

As I’ve reflected on these past two weeks, and even this past year, I am reminded of the tremendous gift our son Peter is. I feel honored to be his mom. I am grateful for the opportunity we will have to learn from his example. I am hopeful that the presence of peace as a focal point of his arrival serves as a symbol for his legacy. I know that the babies, like Peter, who are being welcomed into the world right now are teaching us all how to find peace in chaos, gratitude in simplicity, and hope in newness.