loving and losing

Friday morning I woke up, and I knew. It’s coming.
I felt the anger, anxiety and crippling sadness well up within me, but I wasn’t ready to lose myself to it.
Instead, I was ready to be soothed by the cabin, our cherished getaway. I spent nearly all my time around the crackling fire. Crossword puzzling, reading, drinking coffee. At night I set up a bed in the family room, snuggled under a pile of quilts and watched the embers burn, willing them to melt away the ice I’ve packed around my heart.

Saturday I woke up and I thought it had passed.
We hiked to a view that feels like ours, after twenty-some years of reaching the same familiar outcropping of rocks and looking down at the same familiar lake where I used to swim and paddle and skate. I gulped in the sweet mountain air and for a little while I forgot that I am sad.

Sunday the dam burst open. I went from being energized from my morning walk to suddenly feeling suffocated by all the remembering. I picked a fight with Andy (over a biscuit, of all things) and I spiraled out of control until I realized where it was all coming from (hint: not the biscuit). Just when I’d think I couldn’t cry any more, more tears would come. I kept telling myself you knew this was going to happen, just let it happen. But knowing doesn’t make the happening any easier, and I spent the rest of the afternoon in a heap of pillows and tissues.

I am tired of loving and losing. I am tired of falling apart. I am tired of forcing myself awake at night because all I see when I close my eyes is a hospital bed and all I hear are screams.

Sometimes a hurt is so deep deep deep
You think that you're gonna drown
Sometimes all I can do is weep weep weep
With all this rain falling down

I’ll hold it together for a little while, an hour or a day or even a few days. Then it hits me: I was pregnant, and now I am not. I am reliving the pain of losing John while also experiencing a new pain — the pain of losing two. The pain of opening my heart up to hope again only to hold that hope dead in my arms.

Today is (was?) my due date for Jane, the little girl of my dreams. I woke up to an extra long hug from my husband, who later called me and sweetly asked if I’d like to meet him for lunch at the new burger place in town. (He knows the way to my heart.) Now I will read and later we will finish our jigsaw puzzle and watch a movie and if I stand in the shower and cry for a little while it will be okay, because I know that at some point I will get out, at some point my tears won’t be so frequent and some day this awful, piercing ache will dull.



some photos from the weekend… I am thankful for moments like these — when I feel a break from my suffering, when I feel a little bit like the old me.

Laura’s chipotle chicken chili

I get a weird thrill out of composing meals using only items we already have in the house. Part of it is feeling victorious that I’m avoiding a trip to the store and part of it is figuring out what things pair well together. I like to look through Pinterest and magazines for ideas on what to cook and then I try to come up with a recipe myself.

(Or I order pizza for dinner.)

A few weeks ago I bought a ton of chicken breasts and spicy Italian sausages that were on sale, and I froze them into smaller portions (2-3 pieces per bag). I also recently organized my pantry and realized we had a LOT of pasta and canned goods. I made sausage and veggie soup and shrimp tacos last week, so I had plenty of bits of various produce left over to use for meals this week. On Sunday I made a pasta dish using spicy Italian sausage over a mix of of penne and rigatoni. (I had small amounts of both pastas in the pantry.) I used this recipe for inspiration and it was delicious! My version of alfredo was good but not great, so I’m going to tweak it a bit more before I share it with y’all.

ABOUT THE CHILI: you guys, I made it up! And it is one killer chili, if I may say so. It’s great on its own, but the toppings knock it out of the park. (I recently discovered Trader Joe’s “no guilt” guacamole and now I want to stir it into everything I make.) This chili is an easy meal to tweak to your own preferences or to change up depending on what you have on hand. I’ve used salsa before to replace the onions, cilantro and diced tomatoes, and I’ve also done a mix of white and black beans.

If you find yourself with leftover chipotles in adobo sauce, freeze them in a ziploc and pull them out for shrimp tacos or another batch of chili!

yay for leftovers! whoops, crumbs on the table. photography fail.

Laura’s chipotle chicken chili 
serves 4-6 (makes roughly six cups)
active time: 10-15 minutes
total time, start to finish: depends on crock-pot setting (see instructions for cooking without a crock-pot)

for the chili:

• 2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts (4 thighs would probably work just as well)
• 1/2 small white or yellow onion, diced
• 1/2 small red onion, diced
• 1 can chicken broth
• 1 can corn, drained
• 1 can petite diced tomatoes (**plain, NOT seasoned**)
• 1 can great northern beans
• 2 Tbsp of diced chipotle peppers (pull them out of the adobo sauce and dice on a cutting board)
• 4 Tbsp of the adobo sauce that the peppers come in
• 1/2 Tbsp cumin
• 1/2 Tbsp chili powder
• 1/2 jalapeño pepper, finely diced
• 2 Tbsp fresh cilantro, chopped
• salt to taste
• 1 Tbsp cornstarch (see directions below for use)

toppings:

• we used: crushed tortilla chips, sour cream, shredded cheddar cheese, guacamole
• also try: more cilantro, lime wedges, pico de gallo, jalapeño slices, banana pepper slices

1. Combine all chili ingredients in a crock-pot and cook on high for 3-5 hours or low for 6-8. (It’s totally fine if your chicken is frozen when you put it in the crock-pot, but it needs to cook for at least 4 hours on high or 7-8 on low. You’ll know to cook it longer if it feels rubbery.)

2. 20-30 minutes before serving, move the chicken breasts to a cutting board and remove one tablespoon of the chili liquid and place in a small bowl in the fridge.

3. Shred chicken with a fork or dice into small chunks. (I did a mix of both.) Return the chicken to the crock-pot and check the flavor to see if you need to add any more seasoning.

4. Whisk the cornstarch into the cooled chili liquid and then add it back into the pot. Stir around and let thicken while you get toppings together/set the table/whatever.

5. Try not to eat the entire pot of chili in one night.

If you don’t own a crock-pot, sauté the onion in a large pot over medium heat. Add in the chicken (dice it first) and let it cook, then stir in all of the other chili ingredients. Bring to a boil, then turn to a simmer and cover for 30-60 minutes. Use the same cornstarch method as mentioned above.

I remember

holding my Janie Lou

Today is Infant Loss Remembrance Day, and it’s been the pits.

I wasn’t planning on writing anything. Then, I woke up to a new blog comment on this post left by a woman who has never met me. (Hi, Katie!) Every sentiment she expressed touched my heart, especially her words, You have helped me feel like I am not alone.

Those of us who have lost babies are part of a really crummy club. We didn’t choose to be members. In fact, we all became members kicking and screaming. We all feel alone. We all feel left behind. But we are in this together. We need to tell our stories and have our stories be heard. We need to be there for one another.

Today I remember my first brush with infant loss. I remember the family beach trip when my sister and brother-in-law told us they were expecting their first baby. I remember the excitement we all felt, and how right everything seemed. Several months later I was in the middle of a study group meeting in college when my phone rang. It was my brother-in-law. I don’t remember exactly what he said, just that the baby inside of my sister no longer had a heartbeat. Clayton would be nine years old this year. Todd and Katie have since lost four more babies.

I remember asking God why He allowed them to experience such great pain. (I still do.) I remember begging Him to spare me and Andy from that pain. We were not spared.

Today I remember Clayton Robert and his four siblings. I remember the babies lost by my friends. I remember my own little ones, who are always on my heart.

So many dead babies. So many hurting families.

I remember that I am not alone, even though there are times I feel so lonely I can’t breathe.

I remember all the stories I haven’t told that need telling.

I will try to get the words out.

Even though the remembering hurts.

Boston: round 3

I fell in love with Boston when I first visited my friend Becca there in September of 2011. It’s been quite a year for big-city traveling: New York, San Francisco, Boston, and next month, Atlanta! 

Boston - 2011 (we look like babies!)

Boston - 2012

Boston - 2014

Saturday: We had our traditional breakfast in Somerville, but this time I suggested we try Ball Square Cafe, the restaurant next door to the one we’ve eaten at in the past. Our breakfast came with a grilled blueberry muffin. YUM. A blueberry muffin is pretty much perfection as is, but grilled? Even better! After breakfast we drove to Concord to read on the “beach” at Walden Pond and explore the downtown area. We popped by Louisa May Alcott’s childhood home and I made all of my Little Women-loving friends jealous by posting this picture of Orchard House on Instagram. Walden Pond was gorgeous, and I envy Becca’s ability to see it in the fall! There were a fair amount of people hanging out on the beach and taking a swim in the pond. We had good intentions to read our books, but we ended up chatting and people watching the whole time. :)

We sipped on delicious coffee at Haute Coffee (sitting on this adorable settee, of course) and popped in a few shops before heading back to Becca’s apartment to make dinner and unwind. She made panko-crusted salmon, cous cous and roasted brussel sprouts. I ate like there was no tomorrow! After dinner we ate brownies in bed (so girly!) and read.

Sunday: I woke up before Becca and snuck into her kitchen to make coffee and cookie butter on toast. Her apartment was deliciously chilly from having the windows open, and I found a spot of sunshine on the couch that was just begging for my attention. It was the most perfect start to the day! We eventually got ourselves ready for the day and headed into Boston for brunch with Bilal (a mutual friend from high school), Becca’s boyfriend Mario and Mario’s brother. If you ever find yourself at Zocalo for brunch, I highly recommend the huevos divorciados.

I met Becca and Bilal in biology class our freshman year of high school, and we’ve been friends ever since. (Anyone reading this from that bio class? Such a great group of people!) Laughing with them was good for my soul. After brunch, the three of us strolled through the Public Garden, got our butts wet on Boston Common and chatted over fries at Trident Booksellers & Cafe. Then us gals got pedicures and headed to the North End to Becca’s favorite restaurant—Pomodoro. It’s a tiny, romantic little restaurant right across the street from Mike’s Pastry shop. Becca had the seafood fra diavolo and I had the baked cod. The owner gave us complimentary calamari and tiramisu. AH, TAKE ME BACK! And, of course, I picked up a lobster tail pastry at Modern Pastry.

There were only two of these printed-name necklaces on display at a shop on Charles Street.
How crazy/cool is it that the two names happened to be Rebecca and Laura?!

Monday: Becca took me to Charles Street, where we explored some stores before resting and admiring our toes in the park. Then we lunched on some fabulous pizza at OTTO in Coolidge Corner before meeting Bilal in Harvard Square. We hung out on Harvard Yard and I reminded them about “The Handmaid’s Tale” by Margaret Atwood, a book we all read in 12th grade that is set in Cambridge. We chatted the afternoon away until it was time for me to pack up and head to the airport.

Honestly, I was really worried about going to Boston. My current struggles with social anxiety and feeling overwhelmed easily makes having plans a bit risky, emotionally. Also, I’ve been very clingy with Andy since losing Jane. I was the same way after John died. I wasn’t sure how I’d do spending four nights away from home (two in Northern Virginia before and after my flights, and two in Boston.) BUT, at the same time, I was desperate to get away from this house of tears! I e-mailed Becca ahead of time and requested a low-key weekend, and thankfully it all went well and I was able to have fun. Unfortunately, all of the sad emotions I pushed aside over the weekend came tumbling out the minute I got home, and the rest of the week was a crying blur. I wasn’t surprised, though—the same thing happened after San Francisco. I’m glad I went, and I’m especially glad for the friends I have in Becca and Bilal! Also, I’m glad for cookie butter.