Friday, June 23, 2017


Why do bad things happen when you try so hard to do good?  I have been wondering this a lot lately. When I google it at 3am, my brain spinning hoping for some solace.  I see a Christian site, Jewish Rabbis offering advice...but's not the answer I am searching for.  It seems beyond me.  Beyond religion, God or the universe.  Perhaps it isn't.  Perhaps my answers lie there and I simply don't want to search in that direction.  Perhaps.  Either way, I sit, mind spinning.  I pride myself in honesty.  Anyone who knows me knows that truth.  I am not perfect, not even close.  But, I am me.  I am what you see.  I am not a person you would meet and then find out I did something to really surprise you.  Because normally, I have already told the world my doing or undoing as it were.  I live out-loud.  I think my struggle as of late is that this appears to be a rarity.  It drives me crazy.  Like literally.  When people present themselves as something they aren't and for some reason, despite 99% of the world doing the same false pretense dance, they believe it.  They believe the bull shit that others show them.  I am figuring out lately, that it gives them peace.  It's cleaner.  In believing in another goodness rather than raw truth it is easier to walk away, to nod and smile, to pass them by.  If we all walked around with our hearts raw and open, how would we even walk.  We would be forced to do something.  React? Have empathy, anger, sadness, something...we couldn't focus all of our energy on ourselves.  My life is often focusing on anything but myself.  Problem, I understand.  Or is it? In this world of "self" discovery, should we actually be in "other" discovery.  Should our focus instead of feeding ourselves and our own beliefs, surrounding ourselves with like minded people, perhaps extend and push us to see the vulnerability in our enemy?  Perhaps.

I have always felt this way.  Not kindly, not empathetic, not saintly.  But, I have felt.  I feel and I like to feel.  I don't want to shy away from that, or deem that naive or idealistic.  Rather raw and true.  I want to see people, the real person in front of me.  The issue I am having is they don't want to.  Most people when faced with truly seeing themselves- don't want to.  I can't seem to grasp this concept.

The real issue I am having is this.  I am working so hard, always striving to seek compassion, love and truth.  Not searching out revenge or bull shit.  And I keep rising.  I am proud of this.  Not because I am gifted with a loving, sweet personality, but because this is a difficult, strong in and day out.  And that to me is something to be proud of.  That when life throws me curve balls I don't just duck, I catch it and throw it back, hoping to engage my opponent in a friendly game that is supportive for all.  Why then does shit keep coming back?  Oh trust me I have heard the life isn't fair crap too many times to count and repeated it to my kids.  I get that.  But does it have to be so entirely unfair?  Does it have to be punishing over and over again?

Anyway, I need to write more when my life is happy, because it is.  I am grateful for love with a warm-hearted, gentle man and my beautiful children who are in good health and amaze me daily.  Just need to know why life is full of so much bull shit? If you know, please let me know...

Friday, January 20, 2017

the end

Its raining and I sit here in my new apartment.  I know, an apartment? What? Well, as you know in life things aren't always as they seem.  Jeremy and I have been crumbling for 3 years now.  I am sure the patterns of abuse, verbal, emotional by both of us, started laying their roots many years before that.  However, now those roots are a full grown tree that seems to be sucking the oxygen out of everything around it.  I have no idea how we got here.  Actually I have a pretty good idea, quiet a few of them.  We both came from broken homes, where our hearts were shattered, thru divorce, parents that weren't present and loss.  Lots of people have numerous things like this happen to them, but for us, it was the normal in our lives more than the exception.  The pain from that past manifested in behaviors that both of us couldn't manage.  I would cry, whine, scream about pretty much anything and had unrealistic expectations.  He on the other hand would take his out with drinking, doing anything to escape his pain and ultimately when I took all of those things away due to my needs and requirements for him to be better- his anger would surface and almost all of it at me.

I was vulnerable to him and his love.  I wanted and needed it, so I took it, saw him as broken like me, empathized and thought of him as a young boy, I just couldn't except that this man in front of me, that  loved and adored me, that worked years to earn my love would do anything but love me back.  But he did.  He eventually tried so hard for over a decade to please me, meet any and all of my expectations, a pattern he began as a middle child.  He was the peace maker, the one that was more stable than the rest, not that that was saying much.  He was always trying to be a people pleaser when we met, say and do the right thing to avoid conflict and gain peace.  I didn't know that was hiding a dark, deep boy that wanted to be seen and heard and eventually when his own father disowned him decided he was done.  Done being the yes man.  Done being the man that did what everyone wanted and said what everyone needed.  I was shocked.  I wasn't used to it, didn't know what to think, was very bothered.  Couple that with his new career and my new undertaking of a stay-at-home mom; and it wasn't good.

He traveled, worked day in and day out, trying to win my approval, the only person he really ever devoted his life too.  He is not one to connect, be vulnerable, tell you a deep secret, but with me, he did.  Always.  We both knew that.  I needed to grow and not depend on him, as he was gone so much and I was struggling greatly with my new role and lack of ego filling opportunities.  I branched out, made amazing connections with strong, fun women, mom's.  Meanwhile, he was diving more into work.  We had beautiful children.  Once Nolan came we were stunned, but we did well, we worked thru down syndrome and seizures and everything else life threw our direction.  We have always been a force.  Strong, intelligent and charismatic as a couple.  Then EJ came.

This is when this post goes from truth to brutal honesty.  Some may judge this and I guess I don't blame you, how can I? I judge leaves on a tree!  But, really, having a second child with special needs, it just broke us to a level that now I see is irreparable.  I wish I could say we are a couple that withstood the 75% of couples that get divorced with children with special needs.  We are not.  I often wonder, I know it's not healthy, but true, would we be here if EJ weren't?  It hurts my heart physically to type that.  If you know me, you know my love for each of my children is endless and all consuming.  It's not something I can separate from me as a person.  But, still, I wonder.  Then I stop and think, does it matter? It won't change the reality.  The reality is we are broken and we aren't getting fixed.  Our hearts and the pain of this divorce and the impact on our family will never be solved.

As a type A problem solver and solution lover, I am devastated.  For the loss of my marriage, my family, my dreams, and for the simple, plain fact. I failed.  I couldn't fix this.  I tried my damnedest.  I have no regrets.  I needed to know that when I made this decision and moved forward with the divorce,  I needed to know that 3 years ago, I spoke with my best friend and my aunt about my marriage and that I wanted out.  My aunt said, please wait 3 years Grace, from this day, it was May 1, 2013.  I worked, I whined, I bitched, I moaned, I poured my soul and heart into my marriage and I poured venom and anger into it as well.  I wasn't perfect.  But I waited and tried.  That's all I could do.  With every step, every decision, we got further apart.  I could see it crumbling, begged for therapy with him, begged him to quit his job and be with us more, tried everything I knew how, and in the end, it didn't work.  We didn't work.  Fuck.  It sucks.  Nothing eloquent or amazing to say about that.  It's not all him.  It's not all me.  We both made monumental relationship errors.  We both think we are right 99% of the time.  It's not a recipe for a copacetic marriage.  We both are stubborn, opinionated, and strong.  We both haven't seen or shown the best in each other in years.

Lately I have been wrapping my brain around how this could possibly ever end up as a positive.  Or at least one positive thing to come out of it, will I be happy ever again?  Will the damage I cause my children forever haunt their lives and ruin any amount of love and energy I have put into them?

Every. Single. Person. we have told is stunned.  We hear often, "but you guys are the BEST couple!"  and many more compliments.  I mean, the woman who cleans my house literally cried, saying we were great together.  It was shocking to our families.  Honestly, it's shocking to us.  Apparently we are good actors?  Or we are that amazing, but just not quite amazing enough?  I am not sure.  I know that I needed to write all of this.  To tell the truth.  Not the nitty gritty details, but the fact that a couple can have money, beautiful children, supportive families and be crumbling and struggling every single day.  Life isn't a fairytale.  It's hard work, that sometimes doesn't end with a reward, a ribbon, a smile.  Sometimes it ends in tears and heartache.  That's where this is today.

I wrote this 8 months ago....I decided today was the day to publish it, I was going to make it prettier, put a little make up on it and then said, screw that, this is my life....a lot has changed in the last 8 months, but our divorce is final and we are moving on separately and I just need to rip this bandaid off.

Sunday, October 11, 2015

ice cream

I have always been a bath person.  I am sure it started as a young girl, my dad, yes, rather odd, was a bath taker and my mom would chat with him, solving world problems I assume while he took his bath.  So, in turn, I somehow am also a bath taker.  Some people., my husband among them calls this practice, human soup.  He obviously hasn't had the experience of a Lush fizzy ball and I have no desire to share it with him, I'd rather it be a mystery and leave me alone in silence for a solid 15 minutes.  Every time I take a bath I go through the same process, I mean, every. single. time.  I can see my first pregnant belly emerging from the water and watch my heart beat pulse the bubbles.  I see Jeremy's and I's first house in St. Paul, a vintage charmer, and well, only had a bathtub, and a "shower" in the basement with a work light clipped on so you could see, and yes, Jeremy would use that to avoid, human soup.  I loved that house, the first thing we "owned" together, making our memories, and we got pregnant in that house and moved out of it 3 weeks prior to giving birth to Graham.  So I have many human soup memories there, as I had a lot more time to simmer back then.  I remember getting so sick from morning sickness, so ridiculously named, as it was 7pm and puking in that wonderful vintage bathtub and leaving my husband to clean up, hmmm, maybe there is in fact a reason he refers to it as human soup.  Anyway, I can remember rubbing that belly, dreaming of a boy or girl, hair dark or light, thick or thin, my eyes or Jeremy's, likes sports or academics, those dreams were alive between my baby and I in that luke warm water, oh yes, I knew not to take "hot" baths when preggo.


I graduated to a big, beautiful master bath tub, one that engulfed my large belly and made me feel a lot less large, which at 9 months preggo was much appreciated.  I sat there rubbing and dreaming away.  I also took a bath with every single labor in that bathtub, our 2nd home.  It didn't matter if it was 4 am or midnight, I was clean and had makeup on ready for the hospital in between telling Jeremy to shut the F"": UP!  Just keeping it real. 

So, as with all the babies, I remember each one and our time in that bath, our alone time, both when I had just had them and brought them home and we would bathe together and also when they were in my big round belly.  The dreams, the images, the endless possibilities.  I remember so clearly thinking of Nolan, his name, and hearing it over and over, Nolan Robbins.  Pitching for the MN Twins Nolan Robbins.  Convinced he was our athlete.  Our risk taker.  I also remember painstakingly the day I found out he had down syndrome 72 hours prior to his delivery and rubbing that same belly and thinking horrible, terrible, dreadful thoughts about what he would look like, sound like, be like.  It breaks my heart now to know those thoughts ever entered my mind.  Brings tears to my eyes, now not because I am sad I had that experience, but because I am sad that I wasn't more educated and knew better.  I was wasting tears over something that in fact was one of the greatest gifts of my life. 

I went to the Taylor Swift concert with Audrey about a month ago and it was one of the best nights of my life.  Our girl and I just singing and cuddling and embracing the moment in every way.  It was perfection.  I told her kissing her goodnight that it was the top 5 moment of my life and she said what were the 1st 4, and I answered the births of all of our babies.  I realize now I forgot our wedding day, which in all honesty was awesome, so I do feel bad for forgetting, but either way, it came out that way.  And truth be told, with the stress that came knowing Nolan would have down syndrome and Ej's dramatic birth, I still hold those 4 days as my top.  I became a mama, 4 times.  It's magical becoming a mama.  No matter what chromosomes or deformities, or perfect nose and eyes, it really is magic and a miracle.  I treasure each and every one. 

October is Down Syndrome Awareness month and I feel that it is my duty to educate anyone I can, even if it's one person in Germany, to say, our son, Nolan, is here and worth every minute.  He is a human, a person, he laughs, he cries, he has demands and opinions, he isn't a creature, a monster, something to fear. 

Tonight Jeremy and I left Audrey and Graham at home and took EJ and Nolan to dinner at one of our favorite Mexican restaurant's in St. Paul.  When we were out, we hugged them, tickled them, colored with them, fed them, laughed with them, and simply adored our time with our boys.  I said to Jeremy at one point, "we are out with our two that have special needs, not our typical kids." Jeremy said,  "I don't notice things like that anymore."  I hadn't either really, but for a moment.  I was enamored with our boys.  I was in love with their smiling faces, coos and signing for more chips.  I am so proud of how far Nolan has come in his language skills and the absence of screaming at dinner.  We talked briefly how every stage of parenthood has the pros and cons.  I just love our boys.  Our little boys, their blond curly hair, the smiles that radiate from sun up till sun down.  Their hugs and kisses that fill your heart with joy and most of all, just them.  I am not embarrassed of them, quite the opposite.  I can't wait to show them off, to proudly walk with them, telling the world different is better than good, it's amazing.  It's what makes people exceptional.  Talk to anyone you know about their life and the ones you admire most will talk about their struggles and the work they did to overcome them.  It's life, our growth comes from digging deep, trying our best.

Tonight Nolan ate his meal, chips and salsa, flautas and refried beans and then when the waiter came to ask if there was anything else we needed, Nolan touched his arm ever so gently and said, "ice ceam please".  Yup, that is all we needed.