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Layers (and memories)

I’ve told your story many times. It almost feels like someone else’s story now but when I pause to feel the scars, I remember it’s yours. And mine. It belongs to us and anyone else who is a part of it, even by way of simply knowing it.

The other day I read that memories are a little like computer files and each time we remember something the file gets a little corrupted. Memories change the tiniest bit each time we remember them. Even the traumatic ones. I’m surely not the only one who has complicated feelings about this.

I recently visited southern Utah where mesas sit tall on flat plains. I couldn’t take my eyes off the layers of rock. They looked so bare and exposed. I thought, how vulnerable to share those markers of change. With no thick layers of dirt or trees and vegetation, we see how the wind, water, shifting earth and many, many years has changed them.

In contrast, we humans often bury those layers, hidden in the folds of our brains and corners of our souls. What can we let go so we can be more vulnerable?

Each September your memory (however true it is) prompts me to excavate. I open up my grief and compel myself to share these thoughts with my community in an act of rebellion against my tendency to bury them and our collective tendency to forget that grief is a process, not an event. Grief (a complicated gift) continues to change us, so slowly sometimes that you can’t see it. Like the wind and water shape mesas, grief erodes parts of us, maybe just enough to expose hidden layers. And it also gives us a new shape.

I think I’m okay with my memory of you continuing to corrupt if I can still get at those layers.

My wish this year, on what would have been your 7th birthday, is that we all feel a little more vulnerable. A little more willing to expose our layers.

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I've been on a rant about small plates but I have to say I'm pretty excited for these ones. 😍 (at Girl & the Goat)

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The Boston Marathon

My first brush with the Boston Marathon was April 16th, 2001. It was before I got my lucky break as a server so I was working as a hostess at Thornton’s Fenway Grille. Runners, spectators and Red Sox fans took over the restaurant and I was run off my feet, seating people and clearing tables nonstop. It was the first really busy shift I’d had since starting the gig and it felt like everyone in Boston had come out of the woodwork. 

The first day of spring is technically in March but in Boston it doesn't really feel like spring until Marathon Monday.

I’d go on to wait tables at Thorntons on the following three Marathon Mondays before I split town in 2004. I moved without ever running along the Charles, across the Mass Ave bridge or around Jamaica Pond. But I did feel a part of it all, having served beers and celebrated with the runners those four years.

I returned to Boston in February 2009. Fueled by a broken heart and by my PCP’s suggestion to lose a few pounds, I took up running for the first time in my life. I started running around the pond and then half-heartedly trained for a half-marathon. It was fun so I did it again in Nashville the following spring. 

I’ve run a lot of races since then and late last year the conditions were perfect to consider running a marathon. With a little encouragement from my friends, I signed on to run the Boston Marathon. 

I’m honored to run for Boston Children’s Hospital and to raise money for the good work they do. I’m running for BCH because they were there for me when I needed support in 2011 when I lost Avery and I’m running for Elaina Emerson, my patient partner who has Fibrous Dysplasia and is being treated at Boston Children’s Hospital.

Some of you have been following along with my training. THANK YOU for your support, well-wishes and cash money donations. My bib number is 26193 (OMG, my number includes Katherine Switzer’s number (261) from 1967 and OMG, she’s running Boston again this year. NBD). I’ve followed my training plan pretty close and with about a week left to go, I’m feeling little nervous but pumped. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.

If you told 19-year old Becca, waiting tables on Marathon Monday, she’d be running the Boston Marathon in 2017, she’d probably laugh. And then talk about how she’s never considered herself a runner. And that it was a lot more fun to drink bloody marys and cheer from the sidelines. Funny how things change, huh?

Please, someone have a bloody mary for me on April 17th around noon. I’ll be running through Natick then. <3

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Did I tell you all I got a tattoo? Yup, about three weeks ago. It’s a thyme plant. I got it in NYC at Bang Bang.

My pre-tattoo lunch was here: Ruby’s Cafe

My pre-tattoo coffee was here (of course): Gimme! 

My post-tattoo dunner was here: Freemans Restaurant 

My day-after-tattoo brunch was here: The Dutch 

I love NYC. And my new tattoo. 

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Hello 2017

The holidays are over. I wish I had a couple lussekatter laying around. I’ll simply remember this one fondly from about a month ago. <3 

This year I’m not making New Years Resolutions. They never stick. I’m adopting my friend Mel’s idea of having a yearly theme to apply to multiple areas of your life. Mine is, “I’m exactly where I need to be” or, in other words, “Let Jesus take the wheel.” So, bring it 2017. I’m open to what’s next, whatever the heck it is. 

Oh, and did I mention I’m training for the Boston Marathon? There will be a lot more running in the snow this year: 

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Remembering Avery

This time of year always punches me in the gut a little. And this year, it’s bad. Avery would have been five years old. I catch myself wondering what she’d look like now. What kind of mom I’d be to her. Who I would have been if she hadn’t died.     

I have so much: a home, clean water, food, kind friends, both parents, siblings, a job I love, a healthy body, and a sweet kid who tells me, “Mama, I love you because you’re warm and comfortable.” It’s more than enough. Still, I can’t help but wish she was here. I wish I had held her a little longer. I was weak and exhausted and her 7lbs 11oz felt so heavy. 

Josh and I were attached during that time - tied together with the strongest threads. Our hearts were open in the exact same way. We thought the same thoughts and carried each other through. Avery also carried us with lessons of love and letting go. Slowing down, re-prioritizing and re-framing our lives. I learned to let go of expectations and focus on what was right in front of me. It’s hard to remember that sometimes. 

It’s five years later and I’m faced with the familiar struggle of letting go of a future I’d imagined. The thread that held Josh and me together is no longer strong enough. My heart feels heavy with this recent loss layered on top of an old one. It’s hard to remember her and feel so far away from Josh.

Y’all tell me how strong I am but I feel pretty fragile sometimes. It doesn’t always work but I try to keep my feet on the ground. I try to let go of expectations. I try to be patient with myself. I try to remember Avery’s lesson of serenity. I will try to accept the things I cannot change - one moment at a time with as much grace as I can muster.

I miss my daughter but I am so lucky to have held her and I’m so grateful to be held by all of you. Your support seemingly has no end. <3

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It's just one of those days...weeks...months... Actually most of 2016 has just been effed up. So I ate a bag of candy corn for breakfast. I am not ashamed. Okay, I'm a little ashamed. My friend Emily told me that candy corn tastes like corn syrup and emergency candles. AND SHE'S RIGHT.

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I'm getting so spoiled today! 🎂 (at Myers+Chang)

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Jag alskar Lussekatter 🕯🕯🕯

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Everyday kichari with potato, chard 😍#everydayayurvedacookbook

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Cauliflower, kale, sweet potato, eggs, salt, turmeric = breakfast in one pan

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Some things I love about France: chickens in the back garden; cheese for dessert; wine; macarons; aperitifs; small coffees; baguettes; croissants; gâteau Basque. Yes, it's all food.

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Avery's fourth birthday

Sometimes we read Goodnight Moon to Wyatt. When we get to the part that reads, “goodnight stars” we have a tradition of saying goodnight to Avery, our daughter, who we lost 4 years ago. Recently, we were reading Goodnight Moon and Wyatt said, “Avery is in the sand.“ I asked him what he meant and he repeated himself, pointing to the little container in the bookshelf that holds her ashes.

Avery is in the sand and the ocean and all around us and I’m humbled by the mind of my two year-old kid.

He reminded me of the weeks after Avery’s death. Josh and I spent a lot of time sitting in the sand on an empty autumn Cape Cod beach. We stayed in a restful house for a week - a gift from Josh’s brother Warren’s girlfriend’s mom. When you lose a child, people you’ve never met help you and people you haven’t seen in years send you cards and emails. People pray for you and you feel so Loved.

The tiny details of the house we stayed in on the Cape are still clear. The narrow staircase, the TV in a cupboard, the piano by the front door and, specifically, the fridge. It was super organized to fit the generous amount of food our friend Chris so thoughtfully ordered. On the top shelf was the bread our doula baked for us. The bottom crisper was full of antibiotics.

Medical supplies were laid out on the dining room table - sterile syringes filled with saline, alcohol swabs, paper towels. Because I was so heartbroken, I barely paid attention to how sick I was. I had a bacterial infection that was in my bloodstream which meant I needed to take antibiotics through a portable IV for two weeks. Every morning Josh helped me with my dose - a thirty minute ritual, sitting at the dining room table. This routine kept us afloat in an ocean of what if’s, why’s and what now’s.

We went to the beach every morning after the antibiotics. The Cape is so quiet in October. We sat and stared at the ocean. Sometimes we wrote in our journals but mostly just stared. I walked and talked on the phone with my grandma one time - closer to the dunes because the cell reception was better. On another day we saw a seal family.

Four years later, I’m curious about my grief, especially now that it feels so, well, permanent. I feel a kinship with people who have been through Something. When I share Avery’s story with these people, I know that they Get It. And I’m thankful and sad about that. There’s also a continual reminder of how her birth and death made me softer, more empathetic and more open. It’s a gift, I guess. But it’s complicated.

Wyatt is with us this weekend at the Cape. We came to be a little closer to that place in time that has stood still a little bit for me. Wyatt reminds me of Avery every day and I’m thankful for that.

Every year we make a donation in honor of Avery. For a second year, we donated to the Franklin Park Coalition. Franklin Park is where some of Avery’s ashes are buried, where we held her memorial service and where Wyatt plays.

If you’re reading this and wondering what happened to Avery, ask me. It’s a sad story but telling it reminds me that she was here.

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It's time for challah bread and this year I have a little helper! He also helped "paint the bread with egg juice"

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Maaaama, I want a croissant. Yep, definitely my kid.

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WESTCOASTIA 2015

To sum up: WEST COAST FRIENDS!!! Morning buns, burritos, Mission, SF, Oakland, Bodega Bay, playgounds, Sebastopol, distillery tour, MORE FRIENDS, COFFEE, Harbin Hot Springs, Muir Woods, Sonoma, Napa Valley drive-by, Berkeley, Fairyland, BIKING, Farmers Market, backyard chickens, parklets, selfie sticks (are they a west coast thing??) and more friends!

Our trip to California has. been. wonderful.  Thanks to everyone who gave us tips on where to camp, eat, drink, etc.  YOU’RE ALL THE BEST! 

Everyone here is like, it’s never this cold and I’m like, whatevs, I love wearing this hoodie.

Day 1 - Tour de la Mission in SF, Four Barrel, Kid Power Playground, Tartine (morning buns and the best-ever croissants), and BBQ with friends at Nick Magel’s house.

Day 2 - Josh ran Bay2Breakers as a never-nude, wearing shorter jean shorts than I’ve ever worn.  Wyatt and I hit up Mission Playground, Craftsman & Wolves, and Dandelion Chocolate.  We also ate burritos, like real burritos - not like on the East Coast.

Day 3 - We got our campervan, loaded up with supplies from Rainbow Grocery and headed to Sonoma county on Highway 1. We stopped for a stroll in Muir Woods and then slept over at Bodega Dunes Campground.  Wyatt has never been carsick before his trip on Highway 1.  Now he says “My tummy hurts on twisty roads.”

The cathedral grove was the most beautiful!

Tofu + veggie stir fry in the dunes - typical camping food?

We had the beach to ourselves on Tuesday morning to chase waves.  

Days 4,5 - A quick stop in Sebastopol for a private tour of Spirit Works Distillery.  Their sloe gin is DELICIOUS.  Taylor Maid Farms coffee shop and then camping with Nils, Liz, Fiona & Keith! Sugarloaf Ridge State Park (also in Sonoma County). 

Sugarloaf was perfect for camping with kids.  We took an easy hike with beautiful views, woods and a stream, toasted marshmallows, watched for deer, turkeys and foxes and drank sloe gin by the fire.  And we threw lots of rocks in the creek.  

Day 6 - Harbin Hot Springs, a retreat an hour-ish north of Santa Rosa.  There were a lot of rules about bringing little ones with you but it ended up being just fine.  Josh was able to get a massage and I took a yoga class.  And we all got to get naked and soak in the tubs.  This place is the best…as long as you don’t mind nakedness, lavender soap and a very rustic retreat.   

Day 7 - Another twisty ride (Rt. 29) and back to the Bay.  Backyard chickens & sandboxes in Berkeley, parklet pizza eating at The Cheese Board Collective and funky tunes at Jupiter beer garden.  I love beer gardens.  

Day 8 - A long run around Lake Merritt and downtown Oakland,  Coffee With a Beat, and the Grand Lake Farmers Market with falafels, a bouncy castle and TONS of strawberries.  A post-nap bike around Oakland, Dimond Park, a quick stop at Oaklandish and La Farine Bakery, and tasty Thai food at Neecha. 

Day 9 - Biked to Arizmendi Bakery where we got a 10% discount for biking!  Woo hoo!  Then it was all about Fairyland (puppet shows, choo choos and bubbles).  Burritos & horchata at Los Cantaros before we returned our bikes to Jack London Square and took a bus back, with a quick stop at Farleys for one last West Coast coffee.

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Happy Easter, lovelies. We watched grass grow, died eggs, ate broccoli pancakes and refused to wear bunny ears.