Friday, March 07, 2014


March 7, 2000 was the day of nothingness.  There really is no other word to describe the feeling.  It would be my second full day in the hospital.  It was a day of waiting.  People were celebrating Mardi Gras.  Eric never left my side. 

From what I can recall, I had visitors: my mom and dad, my grandma and my friend Terry.  The only image that erases the fraught look Terry had visiting me that day is the look on her face when she held Alison for the first time seventeen months later.

My grandmother sat quietly in the chair near my window.  She was resigned to my fate.  I probably was too.  There were so many mixed emotions.  While I prayed for a miracle, I also prayed for this trauma to be over.  I could not foresee what tumult the next day would bring for me, Eric and our marriage.

This day of nothingness also brought a Rabbi, upon my request, to my side.  I wish today I could recall his words and I'm sure somewhere else I've written about them.  They will probably come back to me when I least expect them to.

Some days are harder than others.

Tuesday, March 04, 2014

March 4, 2000 My last, best day

Fourteen years ago was my last, best day.  I don't mean I haven't had best days since, I certainly have.  The live births of my two children Alison and Adam were the miracles that brought me back to life.

But fourteen years ago today, Eric and I went to lunch to celebrate my grandmother's birthday. We went to Patrick's Pub on Northern Boulevard in Little Neck, NY.  I had quiche.  I was very cranky that day.  Could something deep down in my psyche known how my life would begin to unravel the very next day?

Fourteen years ago today was the last day I would have ever not worry incessantly about what could happen in life.  And while the worry doesn't stop me from living my life, it is always present right below the surface of my mind.