lovers forever

For part of my three year wedding anniversary gift to Greg, I learned and recorded this song, Leather and Lace by Stevie Nicks:

This song makes me think of our relationship, of how I knew as soon as Greg walked into my life that he was in it for good. Having my own life, but needing him to love me and stay with me. City or mountains. Lovers forever. ALSO leather is the traditional three year anniversary gift.

Three years of marriage feels like ten. Mostly because we became parents so quickly, and have lived through intense emotional times, and because I cannot even picture Greg without a beard anymore.

How do you know when a person is right for you? How do you know when to stay instead of leave? I don’t really know. This is what it is for me: when Greg and I got together it was a messy time for me, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. He said, “I’d rather have messy with you than neat with anyone else,” and that stuck somewhere in my mind or heart. He took me as I was, and continues to take me and choose me as I am each day. I feel comfortable saying “no” to him. He has always treated my art as important, as Valued Work. He loves big and true, and real. He is kind. While my mom was dying he was there for me so fully, even though we’d only been dating a few months. And at her shiva he set up the food, kept my sister, dad, and I with mugs full of scotch, kicked everyone out at seven on the dot, and helped clean up. He can pick out a dress at a thrift store and surprise me with it and it’s just right. He sat next to me while I pushed out my first postpartum shit, holding my hand as I cried, which somehow felt more intimate than even holding my hand as I gave birth to our son.

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photo by Steven Trubitt

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photo by Steven Trubitt

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photo by Steven Trubitt

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photo by LeahB Photography

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photo by LeahB Photography

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human milk machine

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pumping

Because I have health insurance, I was able to get a free electric breast pump at the hospital after giving birth. Because I have a breast pump I am able to pump milk into a bottle so someone besides me can feed the baby. Because someone else can feed the baby I have a small amount of freedom to not be tied to an every-two-hours schedule of latching a baby to my boobs so he can suck nourishment out of my body.

Because I have health insurance I have mental health coverage. Which means I can go to therapy. Which means I don’t have to suffer alone and quietly while my hormones rage around and cause crazy feelings and exhaustion settles over my whole self and who am I now anyway besides a mom and human milk machine?

Because I have choice over what happens to my own body I was able to grow a baby and give birth to him at a time when I was ready to do this, and wanted to do this. Because of that I am a good mom, and my baby has a healthy, happy, safe home to grow up in.

 

my man, who is almost 30 (welcome to my decade)

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My husband is a really good man. I feel so happy for our son that he gets to have such a good, loving, funny, creative, and thoughtful dad. For some years in my twenties I wasn’t sure I’d find the right partner to be a parent with. I considered mom-ing it solo.

And then I met Greg. Five months into our relationship we decided to move in together (the actual moving in together didn’t happen for  a few more months, but we made the decision 5 months in). Around that same time, my mom was dying, and Greg brought up the idea of getting married before she died. I didn’t want to– I wanted my mom’s death to just be about that, and for our eventual wedding to be about us, and not about rushing it so that my mom could be there. But it was so incredibly touching and beautiful to me that he offered.

We both knew that this was it early on. Maybe my mom dying made things get serious more quickly, but really I think it was because we were both ready. We recognized our partner in each other, and we were ready for it. With open hearts. A year and a month later Greg proposed in Paris. I said yes.

unnamed-7.jpg Here we are at a friend’s wedding in September 2015. Little Smokey was already a tiny cluster of life in my belly, about a month and a half along (the same age as our new marriage), but we hadn’t told anyone except our parents and siblings.

I love being pregnant. I love our growing family. I love my husband.

Here’s to seven and a half months of marriage. Seven and a half months of baby in belly. Three years and four months of being together.

Here’s to this almost 30-year-old dude who makes me smile, laugh, and love better.

April 7 is his actual birthday, and by that time I’ll be even more pregnant (exactly one month from our due date), making him bring me drinks and food and rub my feet. I’m just feeling very grateful that he was born, and wanted to say so now.

sleep patterns

Another story by my dear, sweet, exhausted husband. He sketched this one into my journal the other night as I was falling asleep on the couch, my head on his shoulder. This scenario happens pretty much every night.

sleep patterns

I’m so tired all the time, but once I’m in bed and try to sleep I wake up and just want to tell Greg every single thing on my mind.

sadie sadie married lady (or, “Once upon a blue moon”)

Things I love about being married so far:
1. Greg’s honeymoon beard (RIP, since he had to shave it for work yesterday.)
2. The mysterious way it all feels “different” now.
3. Saying “my husband.”
4. Looking at all the wedding pics people are posting on facebook and instagram and glowing at how beautiful I feel and recalling how perfect and wonderful that day was.

It was a perfect wedding. I loved every second, every magical ounce of it. To have so many people in one place who love me, who love Greg and me together, was such a big feeling of love that I almost floated off the ground. On the dance floor I jumped so lightly that I forgot gravity completely until my knees reminded me the next morning.

Some favorite moments: the whole ceremony. Walking down the aisle (through the field more accurately) and knowing this was really happening, this wedding, this life. Holding onto my dad and sister as we walked together. Feeling my mom with us. My sister reading the e.e. Cummings poem I always knew she’d read at my wedding. Our vows, which we wrote ourselves, my eyes filling with tears the whole time. Standing under the chuppah that Greg made, my mom’s Tallis draped over it. Our amazing bridal party standing around us, reading the group poem they didn’t even get to practice ahead of time. The song my friend Diana wrote for us, about us, me looking into Greg’s eyes as she sang. Dancing out through the grass, and then down the road a bit, away for just a few moments alone. The speeches (our dads, Greg’s brother and my sister). I knew my dad ‘s speech would make me cry, and it did. My sister’s unplanned, not written down speech that came out so on point from her wild heart. Greg’s brother and dad so lovingly honoring us, and welcoming me into their family. Our first dance, the father daughter dance, the secret surprise choreographed dance by my sister, dad and me. And all the dancing, so much dancing, all night long. I only peed once, and barely ate two bites. It was the best.

I’m so happy.

Here are some photos taken by my family and friends:

We were married at Cricket Creek Farm, in Williamstown, MA, and I can’t recommend it highly enough– what a beautiful place. Flowers were done by Karen Trubitt of True Love Farm in Shaftsbury, VT (with the loving help of our amazing flower team). Food was pizza from Hot Tomatoes in Williamstown and Ramuntos in Bennington, salads by Wild Oats Market, cider donuts by The Apple Barn, ice cream by Ben & Jerry’s. Home-crafted beer by Brooks St. Brewery, with additional alcohol by Spirited. Professional photography by Steven Trubitt and additional photos by LeahB (will post those when I have them, the above pics are from people’s phones, which I pulled from facebook, etc.). This was truly a group effort, with so much help from our families, bridal party, other friends. Every flower, every chair, every light string, tablecloth, and clothespin was placed with love by the people we love, and we couldn’t have done it without them.

And Greg, my darling husband, I could not have done this without you. Thanks for asking me to marry you 🙂

somebody’s getting married

I haven’t posted much lately, and that’s because I’m very busy getting ready to get married! There’s so much to do leading up to a wedding. Lots of things I didn’t realize until now. I’ve never planned a giant party before! There are stressful moments, but there are also really beautiful, loving moments. My sister is here, visiting from southern Chile, and getting to spend time with her each day is such a gift. She keeps me in the moment, enjoying every drop of summer with swimming and biking and everyday adventures. My dad, who I’m lucky enough to live only 20 minutes from, is an active part of the planning process, and is so supportive and hilarious in all of his jokes (haha). Greg’s parents are here too and they could not be sweeter or more helpful. We have the best families.

And there are the moments between me and Greg: breaking in our new shoes around the apartment, finalizing the seating chart, making playlists for the reception, feeling overwhelmed one minute and then breaking into huge smiles and exclaiming how excited we are to marry each other. Seeing the chuppah for the first time, the one Greg has been working on for months, and it’s so beautiful I want to cry.

Today I went to a movie by myself. It was A Pigeon Sat On A Branch Reflecting On Existence, and I loved it. I also loved the time sitting in a dark theater, eating popcorn, watching a story unfold on a screen. Taking the time to do something for myself is important. Self-care. In 2011 I took myself on a four day trip to Montreal, and while there I made a promise: that I would always do things like that, even once I got married and started a family. I’m still me inside this marriage, inside the family I plan to create.

20150719_163311I cannot wait to marry Greg in less than two weeks. This is a crazy, fast-moving, emotional, beautiful, fun, fantastic summer.