Island Ginger

This is my journey as a nearly 40 year old new wife and new mother. In 2015 I found out I was pregnant (for the first time ever), got engaged, married my best friend, and gave birth... in that order.  It was an amazing year. 

[islandginger1976]

Sam brought me my coffee cup this morning. His sweet little face coming around the corner to the bathroom, nearly empty coffee cup in hand, me with my toothbrush in my hand. “What do we have here bug?” Oh boy…. I peer out around the corner, coffee all the way down the hall. “Awe, thanks bug.” As I finish brushing my teeth afraid of what I’ll find on the other end of the coffee stream. His eyes are so big, he holds the cup and his arms up to me. I take the cup first and put it on the washing machine- then him and we go investigate. He seems dry- that’s good. No coffee, hot or otherwise seems to have spilled on him. We make it to the living room and the entertainment center. He points at his balls because he wants to play with his beach and soccer ball…. I look the damage over from his loving attempt to bring me coffee. I had laid his clothes and diaper out, quickly realize Grammy’s going to have to tend to that as I put him down to go get a towel… maybe two. Shoes, photos, Nintendo controller… all swimming in coffee. I sop it up best I can- he keeps reaching out for me to pick him up. “Hold on bug”…. “looks like mumma’s gonna have to make coffee at work this morning”… I pick him up, bring the dirty towels to the hamper, bag up his clothes and diaper, kiss momma goodbye and we head off to Grammy’s. 18 months of being his mom…. yeah it’s going by fast, but every day is new and fun, and I can always get coffee another time. Smiling at him, picking him up, saying thank you…. this is my guy, and I couldn’t imagine loving someone more.

[islandginger1976]

Knock knock- anyone home?

I don't think it's a secret that almost all my in laws are homeless. In the matter of a couple days they went from having 2 homes to none, with very few prospects. I don't know what that feels like. I've never been forced to have to sleep in a vehicle, camp in a tent or couch surf because I had no options. Once, years ago, I was given a months notice on a huge rent increase. But that was Portland, and I was able to find another place quite quickly. There were options, and lots of them. There always seems to be someone trying to find housing on this island. As soon as someone posts a rent, places an ad, or hangs a sign there is a line people vying for it. It's a landlords paradise. They can cherry pick who gets in and who doesn't. Have you ever just driven down the island counting the empty houses? The houses left for winter by the family who only comes a few weeks in the summer. The ones left empty as families fued over whether to sell it or not when grandparents die, sometimes left so long they literally appear abandoned. The ones that are for sale at rates so high they'll never have a "local" family living in them again. There are so many it can make your stomach churn, and it's changing how we live here, as well as who can live here. Families who want to live here can't. They are forced to move off island- sometimes to a neighboring town, but often to cities far away. Because not only are they in search of affordable housing, but they are looking for good paying jobs, good schools, safe communities.... it's a whole picture. Something that is available here- but not always, and not at the same rate it used to be. There are good jobs here- but many of them are seasonal, and so many families rely on fishing it scares me to think about what will happen when the industry changes. There are public schools, a thriving home school community and a new learning center. This is a safe community... I believe, for the most part. We have lots to be concerned about- but I still believe you have to go far to beat the hometown feel you get right here on this island. But what can we do about housing? How can things change unless we work together to change it? I worry about the kids graduating school who don't have the everyday skills to take care of a household, let alone work for a corporation or run their own business. They don't even know how to properly answer a phone call professionally. I wonder how we can sustain our way of living without a fishing industry to provide for us. I pray for my in laws who are sleeping in a camper in my back yard, because they can't find anywhere to live and this provides them temporary shelter while they work towards a better future. If something in our community doesn't change more and more families are going to be forced to move to towns and cities away from here, and more and more homes will be sold for the highest price. To people who don't really live and work here- but pretend to on the weekends. We will have fewer people to do "the work" and it will result in fewer stores, restaurants, schools.... it will change the very core of what this island is. It scares me. I want my son to feel the same about this community as I have. Bored as hell while he is growing up, yet can't imagine living somewhere else when he becomes as adult. I know my in laws feel very much the same way, and I pray that it will work out, that they will somehow find housing, and be able to stay in this safe little fishing community. But for now we may have a cookout later today if the rain lets up, and go watch the fireworks in Stonington tonight. Enjoying the little things we can in this sometimes too small town.

[islandginger1976]

This doesn’t happen to us

Our son is 9 months old. He’s perfect. Everything he does is for the first time, we take pictures, we post them on the Internet, our friends congratulate us and him. He just mastered crawling forward, he’s working really hard on standing. He’s mostly breastfeed. We’ve tried cloth diapering but his thighs are too big. Everything we do is for him. We want him to have the best opportunities and that starts right here at home. He knows he is loved, he is nurtured, he is content and he is happy.

This is what every mother wants, I think… for the most part. You want to protect them, it’s a fierce instinct. I don’t think I ever felt this much love and protection ever before in my life, and I’m an old first time mom at 39.

The other night Sam was coming down with a cold- runny/stuffy nose, slight fever, cough. We went to bed. We co-sleep… And I’m forever thankful we do. For the second time he woke us up after 2am with a croupy, barky cough. Having a hard time catching and keeping his breath. We sprung into action, like we were old pros, taking him outside, then into the steam of the bathroom. Calling 911 and taking our perfect little croupy angel over to the hospital. Whispering to him that we will protect him and that we love him more than anything else in the world….

“This doesn’t happen to us…”

Part of a text message from my best friend the night before. At the same time that my wife and I are scrambling to get our perfect little guy off to the ER, my friends daughter has been missing since around 10 am the morning before. And if that’s not enough she’s been threatening suicide and she’s been doing heroin. Her perfect little angel baby. The little girl who potty trained too early, who ate all organic before that was the “in” thing, who’s blue eyes could light up a room. This little girl who is now a woman, finally shows back up at home just as we are hopping in the back of an ambulance.

And it doesn’t stop. My friend has a fight on her hands, and so do we. Our struggles couldn’t be any further apart. The next night after hours of fighting and talking with her my friends perfect little angel baby leaves the house- with money, and her nightmare starts up all over again. Waiting for the phone to ring telling her some horrific news… Feeling helpless. Feeling alone. And just waiting.

Meanwhile Sam and I are walking the floor, because it’s not enough that this perfect angel gets a cold and croup, he’s cutting an eye tooth… And he likes the rhythm of my humming and walk/dancing up and down our 60’ trailer. For 2 hours we walk- anytime I stop he gently lifts his head and looks at me. I start right back up. It’s late and I’m going lobstering in the morning- but I don’t care because all I want to do is take care of him. To help him through this tooth, and then we will celebrate his 3rd tooth… And wait for our next little hurdle.

I love our hurdles, they make me cry, laugh, smile, proud… Our friends and family love them too… I think- they comment, they react, they even remember and say something when they see us out and about.

These first hurdles are the ones that embed our babies even further into our hearts. We wouldn’t do the things we do for our babies for anyone else… Not even our wives or husbands. If they have tooth pain, we give them Tylenol and tell them to call the dentist. If they go missing for hours we go past worried to pissed off- and when they roll in the house we let them know how mad we are.

But not our babies.

My friend and her little angel are going through something steeped in shame. Nobody talks about it. Nobody admits if they have a family member addicted to heroin. Nobody is posting pictures, nobody is writing statuses about it, nobody wants the stigma… So everyone stays quiet.

“This is the world Sam is growing up in” my friend writes me. I read that a couple times. This is the world that so many mothers babies are living in… But not my baby I think. I want to help change this. I don’t want to think about all the moms worried about their “perfect little angel babies” and whether or not they are safe, or even alive. I want to help open up conversation, create support, and work together to overcome this drug, this addiction, this “hurdle”.

I write my friend back that it doesn’t have to be… We don’t have to stay quiet, we don’t have to let this drug tear more and more families apart, we don’t have to watch as nearly a whole generation is consumed into this lifestyle. We don’t have to keep waiting... Waiting for someone to die…

We need to talk about what is happening. We need to work together as a community… We need to be open, honest, loving and supportive. We need to make the change happen, not wait for it.

So I write this blog…. And wonder what the next steps should be while my friend waits patiently in the ER for her baby to be admitted into a treatment program.

“This doesn’t happen to us”- but it is, it has, and it’s going to continue until we change it.

[islandginger1976]

And the beat goes on

I used to be a big part of my “family”. If there was an event, I helped plan it, created Facebook events, made phone calls… Etc. I was definitely a favorite grandchild. Family was really important to me, and more than anything I wanted my own little family, partner, children… The “American” dream. I’ve lived in this spot for 7 years- renting originally from my Grandma, then after she passed from my aunt. Almost that whole time Trisha has lived here with me. She and I both have tended the property- mowing the lawn, shoveling… Just the stuff you do. I started because Gram asked… I keep doing it because in my heart she’s watching, and I don’t want to disappoint her. We also try to put the flag up when it should go up. It’s up now, for Independence Day. Normally there’s a big family BBQ for the 4th… Gram and Gramp loved to have the family together. Not this year. You know when Grampa was passing 2 years ago I never would’ve thought my family would fracture, we were so close… It felt so good. We came together in a way you’d expect a big family too. We brought Grampa home from the nursing home, and we took shifts being with him. Everyone did. We talked, we loved, we supported and then eventually we grieved together. It happens that way doesn’t it? One of the grandparents pass and then in short order the second one does. In this case it was around a year and a half. Gram passed and then Grampa started failing, until the nursing home. Nothing was ever the same- but sometimes they were really good. Trisha was there with me the whole time. She was part of the family. She worked for my aunt, she had bonded with Gram, Grampa treated her like one of the guys… Lots happened between her and I after Grampa passed. It was a really tough time…. But we ended up back together, got married, had a baby, and couldn’t be happier or stronger. Too bad the same can’t be said of what we both had considered our family. So while I was feeling sad on Independence Day that things had changed so much, and my family wasn’t getting together… They were. I just didn’t know it. When we walked past my uncle and he seemed rude… It wasn’t my imagination, he was. I might not have even found out except that people started to post on Facebook, and it became clear that we are just not part of the family anymore. I think I was waiting for things to change… To clear up. When none of them came to our wedding it hurt, but I sort of got it… When only a few of them came to our baby shower it was hard, but there were excuses… When we were no longer needed to help make wreaths I let it be because of the baby… When we weren’t invited to their Christmas celebrations I let it be because my father and I still hadn’t reconciled… But now there aren’t any reasons anymore- it’s me, it’s my gay family…. There aren’t anymore excuses. My head and my heart can't get on the same page about it. Here we are just trying to raise our son and be part of something great... And the judgement just keeps going and going. Maybe it's unspoken, maybe it's unintentional, but it's there, it's real and it just hurts. But that's something I've learned from this family, you're not supposed to have feelings, you're not supposed to express them, and you definitely are not supposed to call someone else on their insensitivity (aka their shit)! Tomorrow is the 2 year anniversary of my grampas passing. 2 years ago today we were all in the family homestead preparing to lose him, but united in our strength. Today his nurse lives there, but there is no life or vitality in there... After decades of living and loving the "house" truly is just that... Only a house. Everyone will miss him, and mourn in their own way, there may be posts in FB, but we won't all reach out to each other. Tomorrow I will snuggle with my very own Samuel Eaton, I will say many thanks to God, I'll probably cry... And I'll look across the driveway and remember those last few weeks. The decades of love that used to thrive. I'll feel sad because for some reason my decision to marry a woman, rather than just live with her, separated my once united family. I'll feel sad that they have decided not to have a relationship with this amazing little person... This little guy who fills my heart with more love than I ever thought possible, who is loving and giving and kind and ultimately the most Christ like person I've ever met. It hurts to know that there are family events going on that we are excluded from. It hurts to know that the people who are supposed to love you and be there for you just cannot do that. It kills me that it means they exclude my dad now because he's switched teams. But what can I do? I focus on my family, I plan for our future, and I vent some on social media.

[islandginger1976]

Six Months Today

The whole time I was pregnant I thought I would start a journal, something I could track events/milestones in... and eventually give to my child.  I drafted so many entries in my mind- but never found the right journal to use (because that seemed so important to me) and those entries are gone.... somewhere into the depths of my mind.  Which- by the way is nowhere for anything to be lost! 

So- here I am, a new mother, a new wife, finally biting the bullet and updating a blogpost I started over 2 years ago.  New title, new profile picture, completely new journey.... and wow has it been an amazing one!  

This isn’t where I thought I’d be.  You know what I mean.  We all have dreams of where we think we are going to be by an arbitrary age... in my case 40.  It isn’t where I thought I would be, but it’s exactly where I am supposed to be.  Just like you there are several things in my little world that I would love to change, but then there are key ones that make it all worth it, that help me look past the things that just aren’t adding up.  

I have spent 182 days in a row with the most perfect person I could have ever imagined.  On the calendar that’s 6 months... that’s how old our son Samuel is. 6 months ago today I was in the hospital in what I can only call a “love-bubble”. My wife, my son, and I... that first day felt like heaven, seriously.  The support my wife offered me during labor, and in the days that followed in the hospital were second to none.  She showed me just what it meant to be my wife, my partner, and our son’s “other” mother.  

We stayed Friday, Saturday and Sunday... and when we got home that bubble just hung around.  There were times I started to question if I knew what I was doing, but Trisha (my wife) knew, or we figured it out together.  Not even 2 months married and we started a journey together I couldn’t imagine sharing with anyone else.  A journey into being Sam’s moms, Sam’s family.... waking up to his sweet smile, hearing his laugh and his little voice, hearing him crying because his teeth are bothering him.... I have enjoyed six months of Sam... 182 days... 

So although I thought I would journal while I was pregnant... and clearly I missed that boat.  And I was looking for the right journal, and never found it.  I am going to do my best to blog about this new journey we are all on together... the good, the bad, and the just plain ugly... because of course, what journal would be real if it didn’t include all sides of this journey? :)