I haven’t been posting as frequently lately and I’m ready to explain why. We are on the precipice of an enormous and exciting change, albeit hair-raising. I was waiting for a few of the 4 million details to fall into place, but in the mean time, I had difficulties writing entries that didn’t come across as flat and generic. It’s hard to omit a major slice of what consumes most of your waking thoughts. So, here goes…
No, I’m not pregnant. Bite your tongue.
In 7 short weeks, we are moving back to the Northeast. Wow. I hear the weather is lovely on the east coast in the dead of winter. A perfect time to move a toddler, a one year old, 2 dogs who refuse to walk if the ground is even slightly damp, a man from Florida and a woman who swears of her frost bitten feet when the temperature drops below 64. But, regardless of our comfort factor, it is time. I have not been as certain of anything in years. 3 years, 8 months to be exact….
In March of 2008, we lost our first daughter, Kennedy due to a rare complication, forcing her premature delivery at 23 weeks. I have since then written pages of journal entries and subsequent graduate admissions essays explaining my grieving and healing process. These writings wrap up the whole experience in a perfectly tied bow, and while I wish this was the case, there is no such neatly wrapped package closing the chapter.
My whole reason for writing this blog, was to navigate to a place where I would eventually share this ongoing process in another form or anonymous blog. But, it has become clear that the path on which we find ourselves currently is a result of that event, and I’m having trouble writing a double life.
People said to me that once I had my healthy children, it would be a distant memory. For me, they were wrong. As much as I love my children, they have not replaced my first. I think of her every day, maybe more so when I look into the eyes of her siblings.
We live in a city in which we had no intentions of staying prior to Kennedy’s loss. We came to LA with a show, and planned to stay for 6 months. I realize now, that I blamed myself for performing throughout my pregnancy and sabotaged my own career as some sort of penance. Ironic, as my lack of income is only serving to punish the living members of my family. I wore blinders for all things outside of our fertility attempts, and became obsessively attached to the medical team that delivered her. In hindsight, I understand that there are plenty of doctors, perfectly capable of delivering healthy babies in New York. I hear it’s quite a big city. But instead, I gripped this coast, restaging all steps and circumstances in a delusional attempt to rewind time and do it over. This time, I would do it right. It had to be that hospital, that office, that doctor, those maternity clothes, that nursery decor. All the while, landing my husband in a passionless, dead end job, and shutting the doors to my performing career. Sobering up now, with 2 amazing children, I can’t help but look around and wonder what on earth we are doing here, hemorrhaging our savings with no possible career path, only a few close friends, and no family within a 2500 mile radius.
So, off we go….no job, no health insurance, but hope of purpose and direction. For the sake of my family, I have to pick up the pieces of my career, and my husband is owed the opportunity to find passion in what he does for a living. I could not have been blessed with a more supportive partner. With stoicism and quiet acceptance, he took work where it was available, to afford us what I said was needed to heal from this and move forward. But, as I have watched his eyes deaden with each passing month, with no outlet for his creative spark, it has become shockingly apparent that no amount of money is worth the squelching of one’s desires.
We met as performers in New York and both of us worked consistently. I have to believe we will continue to do so. We have been spinning our wheels here for 3 and a half years and I fear that it is all because of the tiny box of ashes, scattered on this Pacific coast. It was my mother who reminded me that the oceans are connected. Kennedy is everywhere. It’s time to move on.
While I am open to sharing all of this, and grateful for interest in and support of this process, I am not going to post updates as frequently on facebook. Please bookmark this page or subscribe for email updates if you would like to tune into our journey. Also, feel free to pass it along to people you feel may benefit and join me as we all hold on for the ride. I’m terrified….and excited to get back in the game……and, terrified. Did I mention, terrified?