Ruminations on all things baby food

A little change of pace here today...

My friend Lindsay asked me if I had any tips about starting solid foods with baby. I sent her a ridiculously long response, and then thought - maybe other people would find some of this information/advice useful or interesting. Who knows!

Ruminations on starting solid foods with baby

Rice cereal and Banana: Beware the Poo-Poo Dur (French for Hard Poopy)

Most people start with mushed up Bananas (or banana baby food) and rice cereal. They have lots of good nutrients and kids love the sweet taste. Edie loved them both. TOO much - she ended up really constipated. Turns out those two traditional first-foods often make babies constipated - so if you do start with those, be sure to have other things in the mix, too - and to make sure she's getting plenty of fluids (breastmilk or formula... but also watering down the foods that you serve).

Alternative to rice cereal (thanks to my sisters-in-law for this one!): Baby oatmeal. (Gerber offers an organic variety that's very affordable) We have switched to baby oatmeal instead of rice cereal. it's iron fortified and a lot less likely to get her digestive system all stuck.

Other famous first foods: sweet potato and avocado. Both nutrient rich, and very smooth in terms of texture. I think it's hard to find avocado baby food, so I'd recommend buying some really ripe avocados on your own and mushing them (which is pretty darned easy since you don't have to cook it or anything).

One note on bananas and avocados: with both bananas and avocado, if you mush them up on your own and place them an airtight container, chances are, the next morning you'll still find a layer of brown on the top from oxidation. Just scrape off the top layer and you're good to go.

Homemade babyfood: Great. But don't kill yourself, mama!

With Baxter, Mike and I cooked all our own organic vegetables that we pureed and froze in ice cube trays. Our freezer was filled with like 15 bags of colored cubes of pureed peas, sweet potatoes, squash, ... you name it. Now, I look back and wonder why I killed myself over it. When time allowed it, I certainly enjoyed the process and felt good about doing this for my baby. Plus, it was very economical. However, when the stock ran low, I felt so stressed about having to find an afternoon to dedicate to making new baby food that I was consumed by it. The reality is, they sell organic baby food that isn't all that expensive... and this time around, with Edie, I'm embracing the convenience of the ready-made foods. And you know what? She certainly doesn't care!

"Super Baby Food" by Ruth Yaron: a homemade baby food resource. Great info on prepping every kind of food. But beware: she's INTENSE. she's like "make your own millet" intense. She's also very fearful of all things electronic/chemical/hot etc. Like, "stay away from the microwave/blender to avoid getting radiation"... Yeah. I'm serious. Use it as a resource. Not a bible.

If you love making your own babyfood, and you have the time, GREAT! If not, throw that mommy guilt in the trash can and grab yourself a jar of babyfood off the pantry shelf.

All that being said, based on convenience and cost, here are a couple of foods that you might consider prepping yourself:

Bananas ---because you don't cook them. You just let them get really ripe, and mash them up with some water to thin them out.

Avocado -- as I mentioned above. Let them get soft and scoop out the innards. Be sure to thin it out with water.

Sweet potatoes --- A little more work, but worth making your own simply for the savings. Buy 2 or three sweet potatoes, poke holes in them with a fork and throw them in the microwave for 3-5 minutes (depending on the size). Don't boil them, cause they lose all the vitamins in the water. When they're done, scrape the insides out into a blender, add warm water and blend to the desired consistency. Then pour it into ice cube trays and freeze them. the next day, pop your sweet potato cubes out into a large ziploc bag with the date and keep it in the freezer. It'll last you WEEKS...


Another hint: Applesauce. To save cash and time, you can buy organic applesauce in a big jar - like the kind grown ups would eat. Gerber's babyfood applesauce is definitely pureed a lot more than the regular stuff, but you can always thin the regular stuff out with water and mix it with oatmeal or rice cereal. Example: Wild Harvest Organics (at Acme) 24 oz jar for $3.00.

Other good starters to offer in the first couple of months of solids: peaches, pears, peas, green beans, carrots

Proteins: Dairy, Meat, and Soy

Over the following few months, based on conversations with your pediatrician, you can start yogurt, cottage cheese, and meats, too. I personally find meat baby food somewhat revolting. It smells like sh*t. It smells even MORE like sh*t after the baby's body processes it and it ends up in their diaper. Another, less vile, protein option is tofu. Yes, tofu. Silken tofu is so nice and soft you can mix it with anything. You can also do slightly soft cubed tofu that babies love to play with as they get little pieces into their mouths. Baxter loved it (except for that day we swore to all our doubting friends that he loved tofu. In front of an audience, after 3 spoon fulls he spit it up all over the table).

Keeping track:

When you first start out, you might want to keep a log of when you introduce what foods, and leave 3 days in between each new food. This is particularly important if food allergies run in the family or if you have any reason to fear she might have certain sensitivities. But, don't do what we did with Baxter. I just came across Bax's food log in which we wrote down what Bax ate for breakfast, lunch and dinner every meal for 4 months. What a headcase. No wonder I was stressed out.

When: In terms of age, the docs keep changing their minds. 5-6 months, I guess. When baxter was a baby they said wait until 6 months. With Edie, the doc wanted us to try before 5 months. Also, docs keep changing their minds with regards to when to introduce meats and dairy. When bax was a baby, they said yogurt at 6 months and no meats until 9-12 months. Edie's ped says no yogurt til 9 months and start meats NOW (6 months). I figure, if they keep changing their damn minds about it, we have some flexibility with this stuff.

What time of day should we start? When baby is happy! About an hour after a bottle, so baby isn't starving or full. not when they're exhausted either. Morning is often a good time, assuming you've got at least 2 hours in between when baby wakes and when she goes down for morning nap.

Our schedule with Edie (now 6.5 months) is based on the daycare schedule and it works well for her:

5:30 - 7 am: wake and nurse/bottle
7:15: solids for breakfast
9-10 nap
10:30 bottle
11:30 solids for lunch
12:30 - 2 nap
2:00: bottle
4:00: small bottle
5:00: solids for dinner
6:00: bedtime ritual and bottle

Avoiding the power struggle:

Ok, so - How and how much? When introducing foods, its super-tempting to think you have to get the baby to actually "EAT" the food. But that's not the goal (I'm talking to myself here, too. That's NOT the goal, Danna!). The goal is socializing the baby into the ritual of eating and creating a positive experience surrounding food. This involves having a set place where she'll eat, and (like the bedtime ritual) giving cues to baby that it's that time. Usually getting her in the high chair is a pretty solid indicator. The first few times, just offering a teeny bit on a soft baby spoon and putting it to her lips is sufficient. She'll probably stick her tongue out, make a funny face and and get the taste... but because of the sucking reflex, most of the food will come right back out of her mouth!

With Edie, when we tried to offer more, she wasn't having it. That lasted about 2 weeks or so. The key here is to not get discouraged. If she's not into it, just set it aside. Don't think of it as a failure. This was really hard for me. I kept thinking: she needs to EAT the damn food! PJ was way better about saying, "OK. All done." as soon as she started fussing. After a couple of weeks, she definitely started digging it! She got the hang of it and really seems to enjoy the process now.

Meal time as "talk time": Baby Sign Language

Ok, and... starting solids is a wonderful opportunity to do some basic sign language with baby to enhance communication and minimize frustration. This is a whole other conversation, I realize. However, it is such a joy to equip the baby with the ability to communicate without them having to cry or throw a fit. Right now, at meals I sign (and say) "more?" "all done" and "Milk" (which is the sign/word we use for bottle). Sometimes I swear that when she's starting to fuss and I say and do "all done," she immediately chills out and gets happy since she knows that i GET it. If you're interested in doing this, consider the book/dvd "Sign with your baby".

And here's a great video that captures in a 3 minute nutshell why signing is so great - particularly in the context of mealtime. And, this baby is not a freak of nature. Seriously. Baxter was signing and saying words by 12-15 months: (mama, dada, cat, more, all done, change (as in diaper change), plane, jump, touch, no, please, sleep, thank you). I think the signs encouraged early language acquisition. He got hooked on having the ability to tell us stuff and make his wishes known. So, he didn't sign much or for too long - it was sort of a quick springboard to transition to verbal language. Check out this baby:


As you can see, I love thinking about this stuff....

Most of all - and I have to remind myself of this all the time - have FUN with it! remember, if she's not having it at ALL --- wait a few days and try again. We tried with Bax at 5 months... every 3 or 4 days and he hated it... I thought he'd never eat solids. Then, at 6.6 months he finally decided he was ready... and it became super fun!

Simba, Mufasa, and the Mike Angel

[Mike Angel: Made by Sandra Austin Dec 1999]

So, PJ and I had been having some trouble with Baxter of late... talking back, not listening, like he was distancing himself or something - Using a weird cartoon voice, turning all limp when we'd hug him. I was racking my brain trying to figure out what was going on.

PJ and I had been to our parent-teacher conference with his kindergarten teacher 2 weeks ago, and I think it fed into a bad spiral we were already having with Bax. Basically, she said he can't stay in his seat. He interrupts her, corrects her, and has a hard time accepting responsibility for his actions.

I think PJ and I were broken hearted, but instead of going home and snuggling the snarkiness out of Baxter, we became determined to nip this in the bud. So we started coming down hard... on everything. But after a week, it was clear that this was not the right way. Baxter was shutting down - and disconnecting from us.

So, after long conversations with my parents and PJ's parents, we launched a new parenting campaign last week. Love, affection, gentle instruction and correction. A calmer energy in the house... less stress and more kindness. Less rushing and more breathing.

And you know what? Baxter made his return to us.

As we made these subtle changes, I began thinking about all of this in light of a conversation with UD's own guru of mindfulness, Scott Caplan, about Baxter's emotional intelligence, and my role in fostering an emotionally healthy child. Scott suggested I take a look at a book by John Gottman "Raising an Emotionally Intelligent Child." I peeked at a quiz in the beginning of the book.

Do you treat your child's anger like it's a problem?
Do you allow your child to see you experience sadness?

...it took like 3o seconds for me to realize... in my quest to create a happy and "normal" life for Baxter, starting in 2006... I might have inadvertently stunted his emotional development. I never let him see me cry. I still tend to come down hard when baxter freaks out about stuff in a way i deem "age inappropriate". To avoid freaking Baxter out, I tend to speak of Mike in light happy terms. I never let him witness my grief.

I think when he was little this approach made some sense. But, as he's getting older and wiser, maybe it's time to reconsider how to talk about these things. Well, on Saturday, the opportunity presented itself.

While trimming our tree on Saturday afternoon, I came many beautiful decorations which were Mike's before we were even a couple. One of them was the "Mike Angel," a gift from our friend Sandra from 1999. The "Mike Angel" was a hilariously funny addition to our tree for years. She made it out of a styrofoam ball and orange yarn and it really looks just like Mike Young.

So, Saturday, Baxter found it and said, "What's this?" And I said, "Do you think it looks like anyone?" and he said, "Daddy Mike?" I told Bax all about it and how much we loved it and used to have it on our tree when we lived in Philly.

"Can we put it on top of our tree? Please?"

I decided this was an opportunity to be honest with Bax about my feelings. I told him that if he wanted, he could take the angel and put it up in his room, but I would prefer to not have it atop our main tree because seeing it made me feel very sad. I told him I miss Daddy Mike, especially around the holidays and when I see the angel I'm reminded of how much I miss him - so if he wanted it in his room, that would be ok.

"Are you going to not want to come into my room then?"

"Of course I will! I don't mind seeing it, but I don't think I want it right in the middle of the family room all the time, you know?"

He brought it upstairs, and came right down. "I put it next to my bed so I can pray to it." (an interesting comment from a son whose parents don't really talk about "praying".).

In the morning on Sunday, I went in to snuggle with Bax. He pointed to the angel. "Do you want to say a prayer to Daddy Mike?"

"Ok, but I do talk to him all the time. Even when I'm not looking at the Daddy Mike Angel."

"What do you say? What do you pray for?"

"I pray that he's happy."

"Me too. Do you pray that he likes PJ? Cause he never met him."

"I guess so. I'm sure he would like PJ."

"But do you pray that he's not like....[Baxter makes a funny growling face] 'GRRRR... I wanna be Baxter's Daddy. I don't want PJ to be Baxter's Daddy.'"

..."sort of, yeah." The fact that in Bax's mind, Mike would be jealous of Peej not for his marriage to me, but because of the opportunity to be with Bax... is so perfect. "I pray that he's up there [I point at the sky] looking down on you and keeping you safe and protected."

Now, before I say what Baxter said next, let me just say that Baxter has been fascinated with the movie "the Lion King" for years. I have refrained from buying it for fear that the plot about Simba's father Mufasa, dying, is too close to home for Bax. But whenever he's at Michelle's house, he asks to watch it. He wants to fall asleep to it. He talks about the film all the time. Instead of picking up on the cue that perhaps this film is helping Bax work through some things, I have continued to try to shield him from the "dead father" plot altogether, not allowing the movie into our house.

So, after I told bax that I often pray for Mike to look down on Baxter, Baxter sits down next to me on his bed and touches my knee.

"But he's not up there!" he says quietly, but wide-eyed.

"He's not?"

"NOoooo." whispering, "he's in here," he says smiling and pointing to his chest. "You know in Lion King, when Simba looks at his reflection in the water? Remember how he sees Mufasa? It's not his imagination, Mom. Mufasa is inside him. Like Daddy Mike is inside me.... " now Baxter is speaking quicky - like's he's on a roll and has been eager to get all this out. "Remember when I used to go to Tae Kwon Do?'' He asks. (We stopped classes in July, so this is not a recent memory). "Daddy Mike was inside me, helping me. Remember how you were surprised that I could do all those push-ups? Daddy Mike helped me do them."

All this time, all this stuff has been rattling around inside my son. We've been so busy with the baby - so busy just trying to keep the house running, trying to make sure that Baxter likes his new little sister... And in my attempt to keep him on the straight and narrow, by being strict and a task-master, somewhere, I lost sight of my role. Thank gosh he's young and nimble. Thank gosh PJ and I realized that we need to step back and rethink our approach.

And thank God we have that Mike Angel... That hilarious Mike Angel. To give me the opportunity to be honest and vulnerable with Baxter, and to help give him the opportunity to share all the complicated things going on inside his head.

We have a wonderful and amazing little boy.

Writing what you know

Article with my colleague Scott finally came out in the journal "Death Studies." It examines how widows/widowers and divorced people exhibit themes of meaning-finding and loss in their online dating profiles. The findings are actually quite inspiring, as they indicate that widows and widowers use this platform as a place to articulate who they *want* to be post-loss. Obviously this is a self-selected group of people who already feel "healed" enough to be looking for love in the first place, but the kinds of reflections people make and the clarity of the trends in the data are uplifting.

The difficulty reconciling old and new

This... is Edie. PJ and my baby girl, born May 20, 2010. She's two months old and doing great.

Baxter is still trying to figure her out. He pretty much ignores her - sometimes complains of her crying, sticks her binky back in... and occasionally says, "She's so cute! She smiled at me!"

I'm hoping that as she laughs at his antics his love for her will grow stronger.

I'm writing because I don't really know what else to do when I'm feeling low. When Mike died, I wasn't sure how I was going to function. I knew I wanted to repartner and move forward, but it took a lot of writing, crying, and talking to get to the point that that even made sense. And now, here I am, wife to PJ, Mom to Bax and Edie. A very calm and content homelife has emerged. Lots of love, lots of laughs and a normal family dynamic.

Yet, reconciling the old life and the new life has proved difficult. There is the question of how to move forward while honoring and respecting Mike's memory. Baxter's adoption was finalized on June 10. He's now Baxter Newland Young Gallagher. Was adding Gallagher to his name the right thing to do? Is it ok that his last name is now Gallagher? Edie's full name is Edith Eileen Young Gallagher. Is that weird? My late husband's last name is now a part of my new baby's name. What does that mean? Who the Eff knows?

Then there are the relationships that I still haven't figured out how to transition from Danna and Mike life to Danna and PJ life.

This one is a real bugger. In my life with PJ, Mike is part of the fabric. We talk about him. Baxter knows that Mike was a ComedySportz guru. Baxter knows that Mike played with him as a baby and loved feeding him baby food. PJ and I just gave Baxter several of Mike's amazing comics from his (perfectly organized) comic book collection. And - for me, there is my participation with ComedySportz - a place where Mike's energy is so present, it's unmistakable. So, overall we have found a new place here where Mike coexists with us in a healthy and positive way.

What I have yet to figure out is how to reconnect with the dear friends who were a part of my like with Mike. I think there is hesitation on my part and their part.... The whole thing is very messy. I'm hoping we can find our way.

Out of the mouths of Baxters

Yesterday, right before naptime, Baxter said the following:

"Mama, there are three things that make me sad thinking about Daddy Mike.

1. when people talk about him.
2. when I look at the moon.
3. when I hear about any guys dying."

Then he asked what makes me sad thinking about him. I replied honestly,

"Sometimes, when I look at you and you look so much like him. But mostly, when I spend time with friends of ours who were close friends with Daddy Mike. It makes me feel warm and loved, but also makes me miss him."

Then I asked, " Does it make you sad when I say stuff like how you're a great dancer because daddy mike was? Or when I talk about things he liked to do? Like bake or perform on stage?"

"No. That doesn't make me sad. I get sad thinking about Brain Tumors and when he was sick at the hospital and stuff."

... now THIS is weird, cause I never talk about that with him. Ever. Once a long time ago he asked about how daddy mike died and I told him. But I never talk about it - or the hospital. There's an ad on NPR about Gamma Knife technology at a local hospital for brain tumors and brain disorders. I wonder if that jogs his memory. I don't know.

I asked Bax "Are you sure you're not just thinking about when you went to the hospital to see him? Do you remember going?"

"I don't think I ever went." he said. "Did I?"

"Yes you did - with me."

"When?"

"Well, every weekend."

"Every Weekend?" his eyes got big.

"Yeah. He was sick for a long time, so we went every weekend."

"Was he happy in the hospital?"

pause.

"He was happy when we were there and when friends visited. I think he was happy. Mostly he slept a lot, so I don't think he was thinking about it."

He rolled over in his bed.

"Bax, we don't have to talk about it anymore. If you ever don't want to talk about it, we don't have to talk about it. You just tell me."

quiet for a moment.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore."

*********
And then we moved on to chat about the big show we were about to see later on last night: White Christmas at the Academy of Music with PJ's folks. Which, by the way, was a hit with Bax. 2 and a half hours of live theater and Bax was in heaven. The best part? When the little girl (like 7 or 8 years old) sang and danced solo towards the end of the show.

Wide-eyed baxter: "HOW did she DO that?"

"Lots of practice and singing and dancing lessons."

"I want to do THAT!"

Anything you want, bax.

Big changes, same battles...

May 29, 2009. Danna and PJ tied the knot...

Life has been quite amazing. PJ and I were married in May, surrounded by family and friends, including Mike's family. We honeymooned in New Hampshire in a beautiful tiny cottage on Newfound Lake.


In July we made the decision to try to grow our family and have a baby. So... in September, I learned I was pregnant (due May 19th, placing me at almost 12 weeks). We are thrilled! Baxter is over the moon about it. PJ and I just feel so lucky to have had such luck so fast.

Unfortunately, what has accompanied the pregnancy are many unbridled emotions that I feel ill-equipped to handle, hence my writing here. Unlike my relatively uneventful pregnancy with Bax, this pregnancy has me feeling seriously ill (nauseous) all the time, fatigued, vomiting, and generally miserable. Those factors have rendered me a bit raw - never mind the sheer volatility of hormonal emotions...

The most recent realization is how far I had been keeping PJ from me. For several weeks , I had been emotionally disconnected from him, except for the moments when I criticized him for one random thing after another. When he hugged me, instead of extending my arms around him, I folded them in front of me, hoping to be enveloped, but not left feeling exposed or vulnerable.

After weeks of this, I finally brought the subject up with David (the beloved therapist who I continue to see every 2 weeks to work through lingering issues of trauma and grief). I explained how I am with PJ, and, tears streaming, said, "you and I both know why I'm closing myself off from him."

To which David replied, "I think I know why, but why don't you tell me..."

I couldn't open my mouth. I couldn't just say it.

Like a minute of silenced passed between us with me shaking my head.

Finally he said, "You're scared."

I nodded.

"Can you say that?"

I shook my head. I couldn't say it. If I said it, maybe it would make it real. Maybe it would make something happen to PJ.

After several minutes of heaving sobs, I sputtered out , "I'm afraid He's going to disappear and I'm going to have to do this all by myself. and I don't want to need him. I don't want to be left alone again."

The fucked up thing about this is that thinking PJ is going to die is technically an "irrational" thought. But, based on my experience, the only thing my mind and body know is that getting married and having a baby is followed by acute terminal illness and the death of my spouse.

So, how "irrational" is it really?

If the brain is constantly storing constructs, emotions, events, senses, cognitions and physiological responses in long term memory, and stores them together when they are experienced together, then doesn't it make sense that the thought of early motherhood is hardwired in the same mental model as trauma, death, anxiety, and grief? Absolutely.

The answer? What the answer always is: Time.

Time and communication, honesty, open reflection, and sharing with PJ, which I'm trying to get better at these days. The more I tell Peej, the better it gets, so we're on the right path.

My subconscious is certainly not helping me in this regard though. The vivid dreams that accompany pregnancy should be about puppies and rainbows. I, on the other hand, dreamt last night that Mike returned from the dead, was not quite fully functional, but thought he was. He came back to live in "our house" and raise "our son," unaware that I had remarried, that Baxter knew only PJ as his daddy, and that I was expecting a baby. In the dream, I had to figure out how to integrate Mike into our home and into our lives. I was refitting the basement, finishing it, adding a full bath, getting a separate entrance for Mike. I was trying to figure out if he could get a job at DiscMakers. The feelings I had for him were purely maternal - the dynamic of a care-giver and patient. And my joy at seeing his smiling face was coupled with a dread and a sense of being trapped. After "figuring out" that PJ and I would take care of him here in our house, I said to Mike, "You know what I think we should do?"

And he said, going in to hug me, "Smoosh all day long?"

I couldn't breathe. How do you tell your dead husband that you're not his anymore? It was like that awful scene in castaway where Tom Hanks returns to his house only to find that his wife has moved on to be with someone else.

In the dream, Mike tried to snuggle with Baxter, but Baxter recoiled, grabbing PJ's legs and looking so scared. In his mind, Mike's return meant PJ's departure, and the hurt in Mike's eyes at his son's response ripped me apart.

I have cried on and off all day at this dream. PJ consoled me for about a half hour this morning as I went into all the reasons this dream was fucked up. "I'm not doing anything wrong, right?" i sobbed into PJ's chest.

"No, babe.," he said, trying to hold me close, "Your subconscious is playing some nasty tricks on you. Its asking you to reconcile the irreconcilable."

And finally, "I didn't know him, but I know that someone as practical as Mike would think that you have done exactly what you should have done."

He's right. In 2000, Mike and I watched one of his favorite movies, Truly Madly, Deeply. I loved the film, but hated how it ended.

At the beginning of the movie, Alan Rickman (Jamie) dies, leaving his girlfriend Nina alone, paralyzed with grief, unable to function. Jamie returns as a ghost, to be with Nina - perhaps to help her cope - but slowly becomes a nuisance, with his ghost friends intruding in her home and his constant self-centered actions frustrating Nina more and more over time.

In the end (immediately following the scene below), Jamie leaves Nina, hence setting her free and allowing her to move forward with her own life - and we get a glimpse of a budding relationship forming between Nina and a new man.

Mike tried to explain to me that it had to end the way it did; that we should be glad for Nina; that Jamie was setting her free. But I didn't like it. Because I didn't get it.

And now, I get it. Because I am Nina.



The poem that Nina translates word for word in this clip is by Pabl0 Neruda - the same poet who authored a poem (Your Laughter) read and my wedding to Mike in 2003.

Pablo Neruda (the dead woman)

"No, forgive me.
If you no longer live,
if you, beloved, my love,
if you have died,
all the leaves will fall in my breast,
it will rain on my soul night and day,
the snow will burn my heart,
I shall walk with frost and fire and death and snow,
my feet will want to walk to where you are sleeping, but
I shall stay alive,
because above all things
you wanted me indomitable,
and, my love, because you know that I am not only a man
but all mankind."

Our cat, Maggie, needs a loving home...

Wonderful 7 year old Female Tabby Needs Home Our wonderful and loving 7 year old female tabby needs a home. Our son has developed asthma and a severe cat allergy. So, sadly, the kitty must go. Our kitty, ... DomesticSale classifieds

I have asked everyone we know if they could take Maggie, and thus far, she's still at our house. As much as I do NOT want to do a public campaign to the masses, we must get Maggie a new home Asap. Baxter wakes up sneezing and wheezing. We don't let him snuggle on the couches. And in the meantime, Maggie gets no lovin' at all..

My hope is that friends and acquaintances will see this and help us spread the word. x0

Mike Young playing ComedySportz Circa 2002 or so.

Mike Young playing ComedySportz Circa 2002 or so.

My favorite moment on stage with Mike: Him using my "kidneystone" as an oar.

Wedding Day!

PJ and I are getting married this afternoon at 5:30 pm.

Bax is giving me away and is the ring bearer. He's so excited that mom and dad are getting married.

PJ's giant family, my family, and our friends are here in town. Lonia (Mike's mom) has been staying here at the house since Sunday and is a wonderful help as things have gotten nutty over the past few days! I feel so supported by Mike's family. His mom, sister, and brother in law are going to be in attendance today.

Here's to new beginnings, to the amazing partner and best friend I've found and to the exceptional dad that Baxter is so blessed to have in PJ.

May 11.

At left: Picture from Mike's friend Michele Kellemen from Penn circa 1986 or so... She just came upon it and sent it my way. He looks so young without his beard!

This morning:

Out of nowhere. Driving down 295 on my way to UDel like every Mon, Wed, and Friday. And there it is. A big Pile of Terd. I'm crying. Images of Mike juxtaposed like a sloppy mess in my mind. Us in love in Hawaii on a hike in 2000. Him firmly and confidently critiquing comedysportz rehearsal. Us driving around Tahoe on the honeymoon on June 2003.

Then him in a hospital gown in a chair, eyes drooping, feigning a polite smile. Speaking only when spoken to.

I had a dream last night that echoes the dream I have various iterations of every few months. He's in the hospital. He's not quite right. But he's right "enough" for them to continue with therapy and to keep him in rehab. Sort of the way he was right before the July 7th "Hail Mary" surgery from which he temporarily returned and then quickly vanished in swelling, cardiac arrest, and organ failure.

In my dream he was loving and smiling... faintly. He was quiet and childlike. He would respond to things sarcastically when the context was appropriate. But I felt a sense of dread and sadness. Knowing this was not the life he deserved to live.

Knowing that if he could see his "new self" through the eyes of his "old self," he would wish for death above this.

After about 25 minutes of crying in the car this morning, I turn off the music, and decide to reorient myself to the present moment with a little NPR. I tune in to whyy at the beginning of a story from the health/science desk about the lack of palliative care options for people who are dying.

http://whyy.org/cms/news/health-science/2009/05/11/a-bereaved-moms-story/8327

The concern here (one that I think about and talk about often) is that the medical system is so "cure-oriented" that it tends to prioritize length of physical life over quality of life. I often reminded Dr. Andrews or our main goal: for Mike to have a life of dignity and autonomy. Or none at all. It was this set of goals that set the stage for the high-risk final surgery on July 7th. High risk with slim possibility of high reward. And even as late as July 13-14, I kept reminding Andrews that Mike "alive" was not the goal. He totally understood and explained to me that because Mike was so young and otherwise in wonderful health, if we could "weather" the storm caused by the swelling in the brain from the tumor and the final surgery, we might be able to have Mike back.

"It's not time to hang up the kleats, Danna. I promise you. I'll tell you when it's time. But it's not time yet."

And he did tell me when that day came... 3 days later when Mike's brain was in the constant state of seizure, inevitably rendering him brain dead.

I feel grateful that Mike's hell ended. I sometimes wish it had ended sooner. I often wonder if his reluctance to move forward with radiation therapy in the winter ... and his desperate need to go to Charleston, SC in March instead of rushing into radiation treatment then - was his attempt to reclaim control of his life. To knowingly reduce the likelihood of his living a longer - yet less dignified- life. I don't know if he made these choices deliberately and willingly, but I like to think so. I am grateful that I am not in the place where I have to visit my husband at an adult daycare facility. I am grateful that Baxter does not have to grow up in a world steeped in gravity and the profound pain that would accompany such a situation. I am grateful that Dr. Andrews did listen to me. I do wish that we would have gotten off of the fucking gerbil wheel earlier. I wish that we had taken him back home in May or June. I wish he had died in his own house. I wish he had seen baxter again.

But, I am grateful that his hell ended and yet his legacy continues.

Where we were three years ago. May 11, 2006.
Mike’s having a good day. Not a great day, but a good one. I was there from about 1 until 4 pm. I washed his hair and face and gave him a nice shave. He ate half of his lunch. His sodium is still too low: 130. They’re working on getting that closer to 140. The low sodium might be responsible for his extreme fatigue. In spite of it, he was sweet and smooshy and pretty content. Always knows who I am. We listened to Rufus Wainwright and he tapped his fingers to the music.

I told him it was Nurse Appreciation Week while nurse Nicole was there in the room. He looked up at her face and said with a nod, "Well Ok then. I appreciate you." We laughed.

I think today I figured out some of Mike’s vision issues. It seems that not only does he have no peripheral vision, but he also has no vision down low either. Anything below the plane of his nose disappears. Put it this way - I put my face right in front of his, just 2 feet away and told him to tell me when he could see my fingers wiggling. I then brought my hand (with fingers wiggling) up from my lap in front of my face. He couldn’t see them until they were in front of my own eyes – basically right in front of him.

I think this black hole that exists down in his lap contributes to his confusion with what’s going around him. He often tries to place things down around his knees when he’s sitting in a chair, as though he things there are compartments or drawers or something down there. He also refers to objects that he thinks are there that are not (books, cats, etc), often reaching down low for random things. I talked to him today about how it might be helpful to “look” with his head and neck instead of just his eyes. He started doing it and it seemed to help a bit.

I also told his nurse Nicole about my observation regarding Mike’s visual fields. It proved useful for her when giving him pills to take. Usually she’d go to put a pill in his hand (down in his lap) and say, “Here Mike. Here’s a pill for you to take.” And he would reach randomly out move his arm all over, unable to find her hand. Instead, today, she said, “Mike, put out your hand. Lift it up.” And she put the pill into his hand when it was right in front of his face. It was much better. No guessing, no reaching, no random movements like before. As much as Mike has to learn new ways to do things, we need to learn how to best help him accomplish these tasks.

Oh... the humor. the sick sick humor

On Friday, PJ and I had a guilty moment of awkward laughter at the sight of this envelope that came in the mail.

From Newsweek: FINAL NOTICE. Addressed to Mike Young. Something tells me he's not renewing his subscription. Call me crazy... but it's just this hunch I have.

Then today... I got THIS one (below). This one made me at once laugh and then furrow my brow in a "HUH?" kind of moment.

"Mike Young: for your recent purchase, Please enjoy this offer on your next visit. $10 off at Pep Boys."

So, several logical questions have arisen.

a) Mike Young made a "recent purchase" at Pep Boys?
b) Assuming, for a moment, that Mike did pass through town... Why didn't he stop in to say hi?
c) What the f*ck could he possibly be purchasing at Pep Boys? I sold Harvey (his 96 Saturn) in August 2006...

A bird's eye view

Here is a wordle (www.wordle.net) i created of all the content of the blog. it bases the size of the words in the graphic on their frequency in the text.

It's funny - i think that as time goes on, the size of "PJ" will get bigger as the size of "Mike" will get smaller. And that's ok.

Things have been quite wonderful lately. Such a feeling of "normal life" going on around us. We're about 6 weeks away from PJ and my wedding, so naturally there are emotional moments here and there. I still worry that my marrying PJ is the equivalent of asking the cosmos to come sabotage me once again - but I'm working on that. But the details are worked out. We're having a church wedding - at an Episcopal Church, followed by a decent sized reception at a country club. PJ's family is sooo giant that we have ended up with a pretty big list of attendees. I have been spending my free time working on lil' crafts, trinkets, the wedding program, and other fun details. I LOVE this stuff.

And to make the day quite distict from my wedding to Mike, there are a lot of intentional differences.

a) mike and I had a small outdoor wedding, officiated by a Unitarian Minister. PJ and I are having a big church wedding, officiated by a female Episcopalian priest.
b) mike and I had a casual cocktail reception outside under a big tent. PJ and I are having a formal sit-down dinner inside a country club.
c) mike and I each had one attendant. Liz was my maid of honor and Kevin was his best man. PJ and I each have SEVEN attendants. ???? nuts, right!
d) When I married Mike, my dad walked me down the aisle. When I marry PJ, Baxter will walk me down the aisle. And I (and everyone else in the place) will surely fall to pieces.

I love planning this wedding. And even more - i love the idea of marrying PJ. He is an exceptional partner - and he's getting better all the time. He is also an amazing dad. Baxter is a lucky lucky boy.

I still have major fears that I will face for a long time. I fear PJ falling ill. I fear Baxter being abandoned again - either from my death or PJ's. I have physical and emotional reactions to some things that I cannot control. Certain sounds, smells, sights... throw me back. But it happens less and less frequently now.

I just found a lump on my thyroid that I need to have an ultrasound on... and that threw me back for a bit. Thyroid issues are prevalent in the women in my family - and the statistics surrounding thyroid issues suggest no real need for concern. However, when your husband is diagnosed with a brain tumor that has a 95% survival rate of five years or more... and then in 8 months he's dead... it messes with your ability to interpret risk and statistics properly.

So, I continue to struggle, but I try to be mindful. When I panic or react emotionally, I try to "get Meta" - "Why am I freaking out? What is the real source of this emotional response?"

But all in all, life is going on and it's going well. I wish the same for you.

Oh... so THAT's how i did it.

[Looking Back: July 2006 - Baxter and Titi Dee]

PJ and I often marvel at the enormous task of single-parenting. Particularly when Bax is so BIG for his britches. Granted, Bax was younger then so the challenges were different, but I don't really remember how I did it. I remember being tired --- running to catch up --- and savoring my time blogging... those rare moments after Bax went to sleep when I felt the company of friends as I typed my every thought into the keyboard.

The entire time period when Mike was ill is a blur in terms of how I managed to take care of Baxter. Mike's mom was here for a few weeks in April. My parents came for a couple of weeks in May. But Mike was hospitalized from March 17th until July 19th. Most days were simple: drop baxter at daycare, take the train to Jefferson and arrive late morning, leave the hospital at 4 to pick up baxter by 5. Weekends were a challenge. One of the days I'd bring baxter with me for a brief visit to Daddy Michael. Perhaps the other weekend day, someone would step in to help so I could make a quick visit into the city.

[At Right: That same pool trip in July 2006. Bax with his juicy cup]

That is a time that...I do. not. visit. It's a time that doesn't bring me feelings of warm grief and connection to Michael, but rather feelings of anxiety and trauma and spiraling out-of-control. If anything, that time period makes me feel much farther away from Michael than I do on a regular basis - because the person I remember as my husband Michael is NOT the person who I visited at Jefferson.

So, today, I'm here on the computer, paying some bills, and I actually take a second to look at some of these jpg files on my desktop. This is Mike's iMac that I don't really use much outside of paying bills... so I don't really browse around here too much. But here on the desktop there are two pictures of Baxter, taken the weekend of July 1st 2005, by our friends Sasha and Dee.

I remember this weekend because it was the last weekend that Mike was at Magee rehab hospital before being taken back to Jefferson for the July 7th Hail Mary Pass surgery.

Sash and Dee played this role many times over that spring - stepping in to play parent to Baxter in my absence. On this particular weekend, they took Bax out to our friend Steiner's mom's pool for an afternoon of swimming.

I remember when Sash emailed me the photos a few days later. How grateful I was that Baxter was finding love and joy during this complicated time - and how sad I was at the intense disconnect between Baxter's naive bliss and Mike's impossible illness. Mike died 17 days later.

*****

PJ, Bax and I had a wonderful weekend here at home - but it was supercharged with parenting issues with a smart and stubborn Baxter. It was oddly helpful this morning to momentarily recall how tumultuous his first two years were - and how remarkable it is that the struggles we face with Bax are the same exact struggles any parent of a 4 year old is going through. Defiance - Sassiness - Always trying to make you laugh, even when he's being wicked naughty - Not wanting to pick up his toys - Taking like 37 hours to get on his shoes and coat - Always wanting to eat something sugary.

What a blessing to have a child who is so freaking annoying in a very typical and normal way.

***

Yesterday afternoon, we watched the Eagles game at Heide and Daniel's. Bax played with Hazel and we sat with their chubby happy twins, Winter and Simone, to watch the game. PJ sat with Simone for most of the game - it was the cutest thing to see. Anyway, before bed, I told Baxter, "You know, holding the babies reminded me of holding you when you were a baby."

"Why?"

"Because you were so tiny and cute and you made little noises..."

"What did I say?"

"I think you said 'buh buh buh' a lot."

"Did I say Da-da?"

"Yes."

"Did I say Ma-ma?"

"Yes.... And, I remember you learned the word 'duck' really early, too."

"Did I have my yellow shaky duck when I was a baby?" (a duck with a rattle inside)

"You bet... Liz and Scott gave that to you before you were born. It was you first toy!"

He seemed pleased. He was quiet for a second, looking at the shaky duck in his hand. Then he lit up...

"And then Daddy Michael would tug the duck and say 'tug tug tug'!" He said, smiling....

And no, this isn't baxter remembering this event from his infancy. It's a charming anecdote I shared with him a few months ago that he loves to revisit.

"That's right!"

"And would I would giggle and giggle?"

"yup."

It's funny that something so hyper-loaded as impermanence is simply a part of Bax's vocabulary of the world.

We try to be quite mindful of this. That for Baxter, the disappearance of another human being - one who plays an integral role in your daily life - is a reality. you can't poo-poo it away when he says, "I don't want you to die." You can't say, "I'm not going to die." Because he'll say, "Then why did Daddy Michael die?"

And yes, this conversation has happened word for world - most recently just a couple of weeks ago.

We have noticed, though, that these questions and concerns are not always present. It seems that they are mostly around when our lives are hectic or unsettled. For about 10 days, our house was a bit chaotic, prepping for a holiday party, rearranging furniture etc.... His inquiries about death jumped that week. Cheryl (it's so good to have friends with PhDs in psychology) pointed out that for Baxter, an unsettled emotional state might simply activate other constructs that are unsettling - which, unfortunately for his way-too-experienced mind - have to do with death and impermanence.

But you can imagine that when I was at ComedySportz rehearsal the other week, and Baxter turned to PJ and said, "I love you dad. I don't want you to die." It tore PJ's heart out. I think his response was something along the lines of "I love you, too, Baxter."

*******

And finally, another great Mike dream. (He's all over the place in my mind right now - which is quite cool because PJ and I are feeling really smitten and connected these days ... so to have that in real life and a healthy connection with Mike in my subconscious is helping me feel quite grounded.)

In my dream, we had rented a big house. I think lots of Comedysportz folks were there. I was cooking breakfast - ham steaks and other yummies sauteeing in olive oil, garlic, and onions. Now, remember, cooking is something I did NOT do at all until after Mike died and I had to fend for my damn self. So, in the dream, I reduce the heat on the burners, and go to the bathroom. When I get back in the kitchen - there's Mike - in front of the stove, collar-shirt, sleeves rolled up, black and white pin-stripe apron on. He has literally taken all of my dishes OFF the stove and placed them on the counter. he's started cooking his OWN thing.

"Smoosher!" I laugh, "What are you doing? I'm in the middle of making brunch?"

He laughs a little condescending laugh, and gestures with his left hand to "shush" me out of the kitchen, like saying, "oh, little girl, your ham steaks are so quaint. I'll take over now."

"Smoosher, I'm serious! I know what I'm doing. I'm cooking."

He doesn't even look at me. Instead, laughs a little more, staying put right where he is.

I was so annoyed with his cockiness. And it felt fun and wonderful.

So, (cut back to real life) - later in the day yesterday, I cooked a yummy vegetarian chili from Mike's favorite "Cook's Illustrated" Cookbook. PJ and I were quite impressed with the results. So, PJ, having been told about the "Mike boots danna from the kichen dream" says playfully,

"Tell 'Dream Mike' to Step Off. This chili is amazing!"

Four... three... two... one...

I was thinking of creating one of those Christmas Card inserts – you know, the kind with updates about the year’s events for the whole family… I’m not going to, but if I did, it would read like this:

House of Young and Gallagher 2008 Recap

Broad trends through 2008:

• Transition from the House of the Widow Young to the house of Young and Gallagher.
• Baxter is addicted to superheroes, fictional stories told by his dad, and the art of Kung Fu (which PJ claims to know). Bax also started digging phonics and sounding out words this fall…
• Baxter now calls PJ “dad.”

2008 Timeline of events:

• May 23: PJ Gallagher proposes. Danna accepts. They’ll marry next Spring.
• June: Lonia (Mike’s mom) spends a lovely week visiting with us and has a family dinner with the Gallagher clan.
• June: Family vacation at a beautiful lakeside cabin in NH. Canoeing and swimming ensue.
• July: Big family house in Sea Isle with the whole Gallagher clan for a week of sun and fun.
• August: Danna starts rehearsing with ComedySportz again - with the love and encouragement of one PJ Gallagher.
  
• 3^rd Annual Laughtastic Sketchopalooza raises another $2000 for the Mike Young Fund at Jefferson Hospital. PJ’s entire family is in attendance. The Fund is now up to approximately $10,000.
• Autumn: PJ (an asst prosecutor for Atlantic County) argues before the 1^st Appellate Court of the Superior Court of NJ (again, with the whole family in attendance) and wins. The decision is going to be published… aw yeah.
• October: Danna, PJ, Baxter, and PJ’s parents spend a weekend together in Ocean City, NJ.
• Also in October: Danna decides that the two cigarettes a day she's been smoking since Mike unravelled in March 2005 are no longer a necessary part of her life. Resolves to not buy another pack. As of Dec 18th, we're at 8 weeks of smoke-free living... and counting.
  
• October 12: Philadelphia Theater Company plaque is unveiled: Mike “Egg Foo” Young, Funniest Man in Philadelphia, 1967-2006. Almost $5000 have been raised for PTC.
• October 25: Danna returns to the Saturday night ComedySportz Stage for the first time since 2004.
  
• Danna feels that the sun shines brighter since Obama won.
• Late November: Realizing she’s starting to forget the essence of mindful detachment, Danna starts paying more attention to mindfulness and resumes her yoga practice.

*******

Bridging the Past and Present... through Musical.

So, last night, I had the urge to watch one of Mike’s favorite campy classics, “Seven Brides for Seven Brothers” from 1954. Mike LOVED this film. Check out the email he sent in 2003 organizing an outing to watch the film on the big screen:

From: Mike Young

Subject: Greatest Musical Ever Made

Sent: 8/11/2003 12:38 PM

This Sunday at 7PM, you have a rare opportunity to see perhaps the greatest musical ever made on the big screen. The Prince Musical Theater at 1412 Chestnut Street is showing Seven Brides For Seven Brothers in a 35mm, Cinemascope presentation. (Cinemascope, in case you're not familiar with it, is a super-widescreen format popular in the 50s.)

Seven Brides (1953) stars Howard Keel, Jane Powell, and a very young Russ Tamblyn, who later went on to star as Riff in West Side Story. It's colorful, corny, campy, and a time-capsule of sexist Americana. Seeing this film will remind you how much progress the women's movement has made. It's genius, I tell you.

Danna and I will be going, and you owe it to yourself to go if you've never seen it. Tickets are $8.50.

Mike Young

************

The film is priceless for its un-ironic misogyny. I knew PJ would get a kick out of it for its insanity. I told him how much Mike loved the film, and PJ eagerly expressed interest in watching it.

That's the thing about Peej. He doesn't get caught up in the emotional baggage of it all. "Mike liked it? Cool. I'll watch it."

The premise of the film is that the protagonist, Adam, a frontiersman, goes into “town,” takes a wife, Millie, and brings her back home. Only upon arrival at the ranch does Millie realize that she’ll not only be living with Adam, but with his 6 unkempt, unruly brothers. Millie takes it upon herself to groom the brothers and teach them how to “go a’courtin.” The brothers try to court the townswomen as Millie taught them, but they soon become frustrated and heartsick with the lack of response.

Like any good older brother would, Adam, finding his brotherly brood … brooding… gives them an instructional and horrifying pep talk in the form of a song. He suggests that the brothers should borrow the approach used by the Romans on the Sabine Women (as in … the “Rape of the Sabine Women”). He suggests that the brothers should kidnap their lady friends… and that eventually the girls would fall in love with them. It’s a classic tale of “No means yes!” … in a very catchy tune:

"Sabine women"

Needless to say, the mantra of our house right now is “On her face she seems annoyed, but secretly she's OVERjoyed!” …nice.

So, we watched the movie last night and laughed our way through the film. PJ acknowledged several times how priceless it was and how he agreed with Mike in his assessment that it is quite the cultural artifact.

It’s funny. PJ and I have our own life together, our own relationship, our own dynamic… But it was so wonderful to feel like – for a brief moment – we were all three sharing something. You’d think that with PJ raising Baxter (Mike’s biological son) as his own child (he is currently working out the adoption process), that I’d feel that sense of togetherness all the time --- but I don’t. Baxter is so different from the toddler he was when Mike was alive and home. As a result, the role that PJ and I play as Bax’s parents now is cognitively distinct from the role Mike played as father to baby Baxter.

But clearly, the feeling I had watching one of Mike’s favorite films with PJ, while sitting on the big plum colored sofa – which was Mike’s sofa from the house on American Street, resonated with me emotionally.

I know this because Mike was in my dreams last night. It felt like he was around all night – and I could see him as though he is here beside me right now. He was healthy and happy. Thin and full of life. His hair was floppy and long. He was wearing a mustard-colored button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up twice and a watch on his wrist. And he was so smiley. His eyes were smiling. I could see the smile lines around his eyes as he threw his head back in laughter – with a sentimental head tilt as if to say, “Aw…. Smoosher, you’re so cute.”

But the best part was, in the dream nothing really happened. Mike was sitting on the sofa beside me – but more importantly, beside us… PJ and me. Mike was angled a bit so that he was looking at us, but PJ and I were the ones sitting up close next to each other. Mike reached out and took my hand in one of his, and then took PJ’s hand in the other. PJ was a little surprised and awkward at first, but he didn’t pull away. We just all sat there for a moment, with Mike holding our hands, head tilted, sentimental and smiling at us.

Two nights ago, I confessed something to PJ. He and I were snuggling up after Baxter was asleep, and we were listening to the new Ben Folds album, Way to Normal. There’s a song called “Cologne,” that’s about a break up and letting go of someone. The chorus is haunting. The last few times I’ve heard it, I have felt a powerful sense that my heart is opening – like when I do a warrior pose in yoga. My eyes get warm and glassy and I feel a complicated combined sense of loss and growth. When I hear that chorus, I feel a compelling urge to look upwards as sing it to Michael.

“Four, three, two, one… I’m letting you go.

I, will, let, go… If you will let go.”

That’s it. That’s what I confessed to PJ. - that I sing that chorus up to the sky - to Mike. And that I feel guilty about it. Guilty for feeling an urge to move forward, but knowing that it's the right thing to do.

For those of you who may be horrified by this little confession, please know that this urge is not about forgetting Michael. He is a part of our lives. His pictures hang in the house. We talk about him with Baxter. Baxter sleeps under a quilt that has pictures of Mike scanned in onto the fabric. For gosh sakes, Mike's ashes still reside in our closet on top of the bureau where PJ and I keep our clothes. So no - this is not about forgetting. It's about allowing myself to move forward.

The thing is – Mike isn’t holding on to me. I get that. But I feel like my asking him to let go of me is my mind’s way of reconciling the convoluted feelings of guilt I have as the wedding to PJ approaches. I feel like if I ask him to let go of me, then I can move forward without feeling like I’m turning my back on him.

Cologne and Ben Folds

(this video is all whacky, but the chorus starts at 2:37 min)

This whole thing is so fucking complicated.

I am glad to say that throughout this process, PJ and I have grown closer. But, I am definitely superstitious – like if the universe learns how much I love him – then shit will hit the fan. So, I don’t write love letters and get all gushy like I have done in past relationships. In fact, I remember taking weeks with Michael to write our own heartfelt wedding vows. I want no part of that when PJ and I have our ceremony. I want Mother Anne to perform the ceremony using simple traditional vows – but without references to “until death do us part.” I’m not going to do some crazy fancy personal disclosure of our courtship and love. A simple: “I do.” “I do, too.” Done. I realize this may sound cold or crass --- But it’s not about my not feeling strongly towards PJ. It’s about not wanting to draw too much attention to the wonderful second chance that I have found here.

Perhaps if we do it quickly, we’ll slip under the radar… and not tempt the hands of fate.

I know, Mike, "it's not fate. It's randomness." I'm still keeping it all on the D.L. - unless the big puppetmaster in the sky is reading this blog. Then I guess the cat's out of the bag, huh?

Foiled again.

Coming home.

After 8 years, I feel like I've come home.

For those of you who didn't vote for Obama, first, this entire entry isn't about the election, so fret not; and second, I sincerely hope that, in spite of your reservations, that you give him a chance to be your president. I hope that, regardless of your doubts or fears, you at least recognize last night and today for the momentous moment in American history that they constitute.

And as I wrote to a dear non-Obama supporting relative who emailed this morning to ask "What now," I simply say:

Just wait and see... and - i beg you - don't be cynical. Give him a chance - maybe he will make you proud.

And recognize that in 2000 and 2004 50% and 49% of us (respectively) had to contend with a similar feeling to that which you now have - unsettled and nervous. But we got through it, and you will to. That's the beauty of our system. The pendulum swings one way and then it swings back. It's self-correcting and peaceful. Regimes change and hands are shaken and through our differences, we can all be respectful and appreciative that our system is solid enough to endure dramatic shifts like this without imploding.

I voted for Obama because of his environmental views, foreign policy views, abortion stance, tax plan, energy policy, and most of all because he is a scholar of politics, economics, and history - and not one stymied by his knowledge, but a pragmatic one who understands the US as part of a delicate global infrastructure...

I understand that for many people, America's "reputation" or "image" in the world is of little importance or concern, but for me, the knowledge that people around the world are watching and saying, "Holy Shit. The American people voted for change," makes me feel proud and optimistic.

And though I didn't vote for him because of his race, i think it is crucial to recognize this win as a victory for our nation - especially for an entire segment of the population that has - until now - been *told* they have equal rights - but perhaps have never had reason to truly and deeply believe it...

I hope that you all share in at least some aspect of this prideful moment.

I just wish that Mike were here to share it.

********

The night before the election I dreamt of Mike all night. Just normal healthy mike, hanging out, laughing, wearing his blue comedysportz jacket and his fannypack (that freaking fannypack). So waking up yesterday morning was bittersweet. As PJ said, at least the dream was happy and peaceful.

Last week I had a gruesome dream that stayed with me for days. It was eating me up. I got more and more stressed and angry - ornery towards PJ and impatient with Baxter. Finally, days after the dream, I told PJ about it. As I heard the first sentence of the dream spilling out of my mouth, I lost my breath and sobbed - that hard uncontrollable shaking sobbing that reminds me of being in the Jefferson Hospital elevator with my sister, collapsing to the floor and just wishing I could vanish.

The dream was simple. Mike had died - but his body was in Europe. We needed to get him home. I was watching as they drained his head of these horrible substances. They manipulated his pale lifeless body and began to fill him with embalming fluid. Then he sat up, pipes sticking out of his head, and looked at me with pleading but naive eyes, "Smoosher, what are they doing to me?" he asked.

I think that's all there was to the dream. But it haunted me for days. It still does.

It's interesting - my sister emailed me to share an observation - that October was the first month since Mike got sick that I didn't blog at all. She framed it in terms of the renewed stability I have in my life, the progress I've made, and the joy that PJ brings to us. I would add that now I have someone to whom I tell all this stuff: PJ. I work my baggage out just by talking with him. I also believe that it's fair to say I've been swamped with work and have not taken adequate time to explore my unresolved issues in the past 2 months. I think my lack of blogging and lack of communication is at least somewhat responsible for that awful dream. I think my subconscious just wanted to get it out of there - and without a regular practice of blogging, the dream was the only place for it to go.

So, I'm going to catch up for some lost time:

Mike, I miss you so much.

It continues to be incomprehensible to me: time goes by and goes by and you're still not here. and you're never coming back.

You've missed a lot. That young big-eared guy who talked at the 2004 DNC about how there's no red America and Blue America? Just the United States of America? He's our president? Crazy right?

Remember how we protested the war in Iraq before the invasion in early 2003? The US is still there. Still.

Remember how in Queen Village there were all those new homes and rehabbed homes and developments and $600,000 plus homes and we were like "Who's gonna buy these? Who has that kinda money?" Remember those interest only and subprime loans that you would tell me HAD to be a bad idea? Well - they were. The bubble burst. Home values then began to drop. People who bought houses with those interest only loans, whose home values had dropped, have become totally F*cked. Those shitty mortgages were sold off as securities in which lots of financial institutions - and foreign banks - invested... but with all the foreclosures, those mortgage-backed securities have turned to shit. So Wall St has taken a major nose dive. Major.

On a positive note, Baxter is doing great. He is so big - he looks like such a boy now. And he's learning stuff so quickly. PJ and I took him to Dunkin Donuts before we went to the kids' museum on Sunday morning and he stared at the men's room door. It was the first word I think he actually read: "Men." PJ asked how the heck he knew that and Baxter replied, "M" says "muh." "E" says "eh." "N" says "nuh." "Muh-eh-nuh. meh-nuh. men. Men!"

Then he went around the corner saying, "I bet the other door says 'girls'?" I said, "Go check!" and he ran back yelling, "No!!! It says WOMEN! I know because it starts with a "W"!"

And ComedySportz.... Wow. You would LOVE how the company is doing. Not financially, of course... But artistically. Jadico has the whole show so tight and organized. The space has been totally revamped, too. Last weekend I performed for the first time since Baxter was born. It was amazing fun. It's hard, though, without you there. I try to put you out of my mind in that space. Which is a little easier because of the renovations - and because the company has all these new and amazing younger players who have taken the stage since you were here. They are EFFing awesome. And some of the players who were just taking off a few years ago have totally come into their own - they have grown so much as improvisers, I know you would be so proud.

On your birthday this year, it was also (coincidentally) the unveiling of the seat plaque that your friends and I donated towards at Philadelphia Theater Company. We raised almost $5000 towards the plaque. It is located on the aisle, in the orchestra section, about 8 or 9 rows up. You'd like it. Actually, as Cara pointed out to me, you'd probably give the seat to me since it's on the aisle and my legs are like 2 feet longer than yours... You're sweet like that.

Side note: I asked PJ yesterday if it's weird that I refer to you in the present tense sometimes, "Mike is the kind of person who..." He said an unequivocal, "no. It's not weird."

The plaque reads "Mike (Egg Foo) Young, Funniest Man in Philadelphia, 1967-2006." Cheryl joked that Kevin and Don are probably going to buy plaques for themselves to put next to you, also reading "Funniest Man in Philadelphia." She's funny that Cheryl.

I still have a really hard time reconciling my life with PJ and my loss of you. He is a true gift to Baxter and me. He is sweet, kind, funny, playful, and tolerant of my bratty shenanigans. And I recognize that your death ultimately brought about the circumstances that allowed him into our lives. David, the still-beloved therapist, always reminds me that I never would have chosen to lose you - but that given the hand I was dealt, I did the healthiest thing I could do. I worked on my grief (which I continue to do) and Ihave tried to rebuild.

Today, with the feelings of optimism and pride that come with last night's election results, I miss you terribly. I spent some of Monday and Tuesday canvassing for Obama right near our old neighborhood. It was lifetimes ago that we lived there and walked those streets together - but it wasn't. It was just 4 years. 4 years ago I was preggers, we were getting ready for the next chapter with our baby. Four years and a lifetime ago.

I love and miss you, Mike Young. But you're not here.

There is someone here now who I love - and he is moving our family in a wonderful direction. PJ is youthful, vibrant, carefree, and is marrying me and raising our son as his own. He is an exceptional person, Mike. And everytime I tell PJ that he would have liked you - or if I think, "Mike, you'd really love PJ," I have to laugh at the absurdity of the premise.

How f*cked up this all is.

But, I'm doing the best I can - and amazingly, the "best I can" is usually pretty darned good.

love,
danna
ps: I wish I believed in a concrete notion of heaven. Days like this would be so much easier. You up there with all those old dead people, watching the election returns on a giant screen in the sky... ah well.