Reminiscence

At Stroller Strides on Wednesday, our instructor announced that a local photographer, Sara Lazio of Lazio Images, is holding a contest, in which she's asking people to tell their love story. The winner gets a free couples photo shoot, a way to help rekindle the romance! If you look at her page, you'll see she is super talented, and well, I can count on one hand the number of pictures we have of Tom and I since Ben was born. So, I decided to write up our little love story and enter the contest. It was fun to put the laundry and baby-food making on hold to reminisce a bit about how we fell in love and I thought I'd share it here. Here's how it went:

I met my husband, Tom, online. I NEVER EVER thought that would be my story, but it is and I thank God everyday that it is. I will never forget when I read Tom’s online profile and thought to myself, ‘we have so much in common, a love for the outdoors, soccer, running, red wine, music, and more. If this guy is as amazing in person as he is on paper (or cyber-paper!) then I have something to be excited about.’ Turned out he was everything that he claimed in his profile and so much more. He says he had the same thoughts when he looked at my profile and then met me. We talked for hours on our first date, as we sat out on the roof-top deck of the Funky Buddha that sunny, warm September evening. The connection, chemistry, and love was there from the beginning and has just deepened ever since. For our second date, we drove outside of Nederland to go hiking. When we pulled up to the parking lot, it was snowing like crazy. We took one look at each other and said, “What do we want to do?” And then we simultaneously shrugged our shoulders and said, “Let’s go!” And as a result, we had an incredible adventure that day! A little over a year later we were standing in front of each other, promising to love each other through all circumstances, from the peaks to the valleys, when life is sunny like our first date and stormy like our second. And we committed that no matter the weather life brings, we will continue to say, “Let’s go and let’s go together.” So, here we are nearly 4 years later with a little 8 month old bundle of boy! While our son is the most amazing gift, it’s been a journey to navigate this new dynamic in our family and figure out how to keep each other as a priority amidst the sleepless nights and constant talk of poop! There have of course, been bumps along the way, but there is no one else I’d rather be on this journey with! So, as we head into this next season, Tom & Melissa + kids, no matter the weather, we continue to say, “Let’s go!”

And the timing is fun too, as next weekend we head to Moab for my half marathon. We can't wait to take Ben on the hike up to Delicate Arch, where Tom proposed to me by moonlight! Remembering is a good, good thing!

Hope

One month ago today, my dear friend (see previous post entitled, It Takes A Village) gave birth to a beautiful and healthy baby girl. I had the privilege of not only being present for the entire labor and delivery, but also that of coaching her through it alongside her doula. Her husband, exhausted and recovering from his chemo treatment, slept through most of the labor, but was thankfully able to be in the room and awake for the most important moments.

Being present in that delivery room with my friend through the darkness of the night, looking her in the eyes (which as it turns out are hazel, though I always thought they were brown!), helping her to breathe, and to navigate each contraction one at a time, I was reminded that often times the invitations that require the most risk and responsibility are indeed the ones that offer the most reward. Being there alongside my friend in labor, was one of the hardest things I've ever done, right up there with my own 45 hour labor and delivery. It gave me a new and profound admiration for my husband, who so wonderfully supported me through the birth of my son. I found it excruciatingly difficult to watch someone I care about experience such intense pain. I wanted to take the pain for my friend, I wanted to make it better, I wanted to make it go faster. But I knew that I couldn't do any of those things for her, which is a rather helpless feeling. I knew that all I could really do was simply be there with her in it. And I think that often times, that's the best gift we can offer people, to just to be there, to sit in it with them, to be a witness to both their pain and their triumph.

For some reason, the truth mentioned above didn't feel so clear to me on my way to the hospital that night at 12:45 am. I'm not going to lie, somewhere in the course of my drive, I had a moment of panic. My mind was flooded with doubt and questions, What if I don't say the right things? What if I do something that makes her mad? What if I just don't know what to do at all? What if something happens that ruins our friendship? This, not to mention the daunting responsibility I felt just playing this role, the role meant to be played by her husband. If it were me in the situation, I'm pretty sure I'd feel some sense of anger and sadness that I had to stare into the eyes of my friend when really, nothing could replace the support of my husband.

That's when I remembered, in the midst of my panic, that I had to let all of these fears go, that this wasn't at all about me, but about my dear friend. It was about my friend, who was about to go through one of the most challenging things a woman can experience, all the while with the icky reality tucked into the back of her mind that her husband is sick. I didn't need to worry about saying or doing the right things, I just needed to show up. I needed to be there. I needed to look her in the eye during the climax of her pain and breathe with her, and remind her that she can do this, that she is doing this, that her body is working beautifully, ushering her little girl into this world. And I did. And she did. She did it. She, ever so gracefully, found ways to focus on the good, relax her body, and breathe her way through the labor.

After a long, dark night, during the dawn of a new day, I got to witness what I consider to be a most miraculous event, a beautiful new life entering this world. And at the sound of that very first tiny cry, that hospital room was filled with life...and the fragrance of hope, hope for her baby girl's future, hope for the health of her husband, hope for their family. And this beautiful little girl, who is a month old today, will forever embody the reminder for us to 'Hope,' as that is her middle name.