May your memory move us forward

Chai climbed in bed with me at about six in the morning and I was so dreamily sandwiched between him and Sparrow. I'm in love with their warm little bodies so trustingly flung and pressed. I love that they want to be close to me in their sleep. I love that Chai always murmurs "You okay, mom?" I tell him I love him over and over and I feel it heals us a little from me yelling at him yesterday and trying to be fierce. I almost couldn't go back to sleep, not just because they had commandeered both pillows, but because I felt so giddy over how dear they are right now and what a "songs of innocence" piece it is to have tiny sweets that climb in bed with me and cuddle. Right now they are playing in the fan--Chai told me "It's pouring out wind, and we get ALLLL windy!"

My relationship with Sparrow has been thriving so much this month. She only occasionally cries to nurse, now, and she will snuzzle me in bed and fall asleep leaning on my chest. I love her so much and I'm so glad that we pushed past that rough patch because now that there is no assault on my nipples, her wanting to be close is just really loving and kind. She says more words, "bubbles" and "baby" and and "kay-ay" sings "Mommy. Mommy,. Mommy!" We sing it to each other. She helps me looks for Chai at the park by shouted "Cha! CHAAA!" They have such a beautiful relationship and love to be around each other. Chai likes to be instructive and Sparrow is happy doing his bidding most of the time. Yesterday I lay back on the bed and showed them the hard little 19 weeks bump (that's beginning to kick hard enough I can just barely feel it) and we talked about Tarzan and Chai said gleefully "Is he going to come out your butt?" I said, "Out my vagina!" and Chai said, "I think out your butt, too." He's not wrong. I can't come up with any affirmations about the lines of doubt and doom are so clear in my mind. We can't afford another child. Our relationship can't afford another postpartum so close to the last one. I don't want to do this to Sparrow. These are the words that keep revolving, that steal a little bit of my joy in June.

Last night Jon and I went to the Ordain Women vigil in SLC. It was so interesting to see the internet greats wandering around in person and it made me happy to see many friends from different parts of my life (Kayte and Sara the Vranes, Dorothy, Christa, Mary Kremer, etc). I crept around like a loser fangirl trying to touch John Dehlin's garment and finally succeeded in extracting virtue from him when Jared introduced us (At that point, although I'd been trying to meet him all night, I was like, Oh Jared really, you shouldn't have!). Some parts of the vigil really resonated with me (repeating the names of women and saying "May your memory move us forward", Janice Allred's sign, "we asked for bread and they gave us a stone, we asked to minister the bread and they stoned us", Kate Kelly's father declaring "I will not be silenced because my daughter, Kate Kelly, has committed no sin!") and others ("I will not be silenced because my Heavenly Parents don't want me to be!") left me a little cold, because I feel like people are still just creating God in their own image when they insist that God is a feminist, pro LGBT rights rockstar and Heavenly Mother makes contact por doquier. There may be something, I think I even hope there is a benevolent presence in the universe, I wish so much that Jesus is real, but I just don't find it useful to insist that the reality is a progressive God that is more appealing because it seems like it's just casting your values upon a mirror like everyone else does.

I liked being there with Jon. I love being alone with him, even though I ruined the drive up with angsty wailings about the future (we decided later I was just hungry). Jon is always so kind to me. He is my best friend. He is tender and sincere. I want to recognize and feel more how good he is instead of being dour. I want to be present, but I'm struggling with feeling so sad that our little world is ending. After the vigil disbanded we went to Aristo's and sat on the patio and ordered spankopita, gyro sliders and salty purple olives, hummus, cucumber yogurt and garlic spread. It was wonderful and we had a good talk about the friend group. Jon says I need to get in touch with the part of myself that does ugly things, that could do the worst things, recognize my shadow is just as alive as anyone's. I said I could understand the behaviors and wanting something so badly, even at someone else's expense, and the lying about it, but not the flaunting about lying. He pushed me farther and I acknowledged there is a part of me that could do that, too, that might feel superior and even want to punish the people in my life for their blindness. We talked about how a part of my feeling I can't revisit the relationship the way it was, even though I miss it, was the urgency from everyone else to just get over it, the invalidation. No one said "That makes perfect sense that you're not over it yet, in fact it's weird that we all are!" I also feel very justified in taking a stand against the coercive aspect to this. I don't think it's healthy or safe, even though it's the most fun thing even sometimes, and I do miss it, I don't miss it as much as I thought I would. Anyway, that's enough friend drama to last a whole summer. It's kind of nice to have time to go to the park and reflect on what my identity is becoming. Right now I am deriving a lot of satisfaction from taking the kids to do fun things--it really is magically fulfilling to be at Art Days or the park or the splash pad with them. It makes me feel like I'm a good mother and helping them have a good childhood.