When you are not a Mother on Mother's Day.

I don't remember having a lot of dolls when I was little. I had lots of stuffed animals, my glowworm and teddy bear Snuggles were my favorite, but I wasn't really into baby dolls. My sister was more of the mothering type. I was a bit more non-conventional  in the love and care I showed the little furry make-believe lives I was entrusted with. I often spoke to them as if they were grown, I did not baby them. I depended on them to help me do things, from listening to my rants about how unfair my parents were for making me clean my room to mandating them to be part of the class as I  played teacher and my messy room was my classroom.

I am blessed to have been in lots of kids lives. I have been a tutor and mentor at work, I have led small groups and helped with children's activities at church, and I have always been connected to my friends kids. I am a Godmother, official and unofficial aunt, and it fills my heart with joy when I hear one of "my girls" call me Miss Sarah. But, I want to be a mom.

I am 38 and the desire to be a mom seems to grow a little stronger everyday. I say this not for pity or for people to tell me how great I have it because I am free of the responsibility of parenthood. I don't say this to publicly push the person I am in love with to want the same things I want at the time I want them, I say it because it's true. I want to be a mom.

When I tell my friends or family that I want to be a mom they often say things like, "Oh you can have mine, ha ha ha" or "There is no way you could do what you do and travel as much as you do with a baby". Sometimes I will get the heartfelt, "I understand, being a mom is my favorite thing." That is the response that resonates. The person who sees me as mother, someday.

Tomorrow I will call my mom and wish her a Happy Mother's Day and tell her how grateful I am to have been raised by a person as loving and kind as her. I will call my sister and share in the joy and delight that is my nephew who was so longed for and is so loved. I will be on facebook and I will find joy in the posts of my friends who are being told what amazing moms they are and what amazing moms they have. But tonight, I will sit in my living room and I let my mind wander and my heart hurt all the way down to my belly.

Grace to powerful to name

Have you ever had your world fall apart around you, not slowly, but all at once? This is what happened the last three months. There were great big things and lots of little things and in the midst of it I learned forgiveness.

Two months ago I was sitting in the second balcony of the Richard Rogers Theater in New York City watching Hamilton. I was sitting next to a girl who had driven down from Boston that morning and a brother and sister who had just bought tickets outside on the street, we were all drunk with the excitement and wonder of what we were about to see. I was at Hamilton because my best friend's passion for making theater was reignited by the magic that is Hamilton, and because I had a new credit card. During that Saturday matinee she found inspiration and I found peace.

I had recently lost someone, as I sat mouth agape in row FF seat 27, I tried to push down that loss and be in moment of this beautiful piece of art. I was in the city with my best friend from city year and my best friend from childhood and my heart was open, but I did not know what healing would come when Renee Elise Goldsberry sang as Angelica. "There are moments that the words don't reach there's a suffering to terrible to name...the moments you're in so deep it's easier to just swim down" As those words filled my ears my heart started to heal and I wept. I grabbed the girls hand next to me, who I did not know, and I cried for my loss and began to forgive God for making me feel so deeply sad.

I would love to end this blog post there. This moment in the theater with strangers and art and beauty, but that's not how life works. I got home and as I was starting to heal from this big hurt chaos took hold of my world. I found myself in the middle of survival. The "what" of what was happening is not important, and honestly the "who" of who it was happening to is not important. The important part is the how we all loved each other. In the past three months I have seen love manifest in midnight giggles, casseroles, late night board games, boxes of wine, tears, cuddles, and binge watching Fuller House.

 I learned how to ask for help when I really needed it. I learned to stand up and say, "What I am feeling is important" I learned to say, "It hurt me when..." I learned to say, "I can not do this now." And in all of this bravery and mess of a life I saw forgiveness. Forgiveness of self, forgiveness of God, and forgiveness when it was asked for and when it wasn't.

"There are moments that words don't reach, there is a grace to powerful to name. We push away what we can never understand, we push away the unimaginable. Forgiveness can you imagine...Forgiveness." As I sat and listened to Renee sing these words it felt like worship. I could feel the Lord's presence. Forgiveness, can you imagine?

When I read that playbill as I was falling asleep that night I saw the last line of Renee's bio, " Renee gives all glory to God" I hope that she knows that I found God's Glory and his forgiveness in her voice.

Sometimes You Don't Get to Say Goodbye.

My uncle died a couple days ago, his name was Dick and he fit his name well. He was my mom's youngest brother and was my favorite uncle growing up. He had 3 boys and a stepdaughter but loved to spoil my sister and me. He would give us $20 bills to go down to Pixie Plaza Market at the beach to buy New York Seltzers and candy and would let us keep the change, we thought we were rich. He would take us to the Santa Cruz Boardwalk and let us play games and ride rides with us. He would sit for hours and play "Sorry" with me and right when I thought I was going to win, he would crush me. He never let me win, and I liked that. He was grumbley and silly and a little scary.

He died without knowing much about me as an adult. He decided a little over decade ago that he didn't like the way my mom took care of some matters for my grandmother, who she took care of with Alzheimer's. So he stopped talking to us and didn't go to his Mother's funeral. He was hurt and so he hurt us, mostly my mom.

Growing up I had this extended family that was fun and silly and fundamentally broken, but we loved each other and somehow I kept loving them and they stopped. They just stopped, with no goodbye. I don't know how to do that, how to stop loving a person that is my family. So I won't, but I will say goodbye.


Dear Uncle Dick and Family,

I love you. I have always loved that I am equal parts Townley and Roberson, because both sides are so different. I love the pride you take in the Townley name.  I love how much you love being Dr. Townley's son and grandchildren. I love that my Uncle Dick was larger than life and when he loved he loved bigger than anyone I knew.

I will never forget how I felt in your backyard with my Townley family surrounding me. There was lots of laughter and yummy food, games of cribbage, and I always hoped that among the chaos Uncle Dick would get in the pool and launch me into the air.

I will always treasure the childhood memories you gave me and I will love you until forever.

Love,
Sarah Mellon

One of my favorite memories of the Townley boys is when we went to see Goonies with Ami, Ken, Emi, Chip and Jon. So I thought I would include a picture where I look like Chunk from the Goonies. This picture also commemorates the moment I was no longer the baby of the family, Tomi!

So there you have it, my uncle died. I won't get to go to the funeral. I won't be able to hug his children or tell funny stories about when my dad pushed him in the pool or how I remember the smell of his cologne and cigarettes. I will grieve the loss of my uncle and I will treasure when he loved me.

Not jumping

I had lost my house, my job, and my joy. It was six months after my house had burned down, it was four months since my boss called me into her office and told me that she didn't think I really wanted my job, and I didn't. I hated going into that office and I hated going home, and I hated that I moved back to San Jose and all of my friends were moving away or had gone on with their lives without me.

I thought once I came back after being away for four years it would be the same as it was, but we all grew up. People were having babies, friendships changed, and I missed four years of shared experiences. I was looking at the life I had dreamed of, but the movie had fast forwarded and I didn't fit in the story the way I thought I would. I was different too, and at this point was so sad I could not muster up the energy to invite myself to the dinner party, weekend adventures, or just over for dinner. It was not that my friends didn't love me, it's that they were getting used to me being back around and I was just trying to get out of bed every day.

So I got a dog. A little beagle puppy that I named Pollyanna Louise. She became my life. When I felt as if I could have no joy, Pollyanna would curl up and fall asleep on my back, or lick my face, or snuggle so close that I could not help but feel love.

One night I was driving around, trying to put the pieces of my life back together listening to music and crying. I drove up the 280 and over to the 85 and then up the peninsula on the 101 to the San Mateo Bridge. It was dark out and as I got closer to the bridge the calmer I got. I had made a decision. I was not scared, I was not sad, I was totally and completely numb. I pulled my car over to the side of the bridge, right at the entrance, leaving my hazard lights on to protect other drivers. I stepped up and looked at the water below, it looked cold and harsh. I started to think how I would get over the wall without anyone seeing me or trying to stop me. Time was in slow motion and I was caught between turning off the voice of reason in my head, wanting peace, and trying not to pray. I just wanted to jump. But then I thought of Polly.

Polly was a puppy. She was home in her crate wondering when I would come home. I was her only human. I knew that if I jumped my parents would take Polly but would they love her? Could they love her? She would be a constant reminder that I was gone. And so with tears and a numb heart I got back in my car, turned off my hazard lights, and went home. I found my self less numb as I fell asleep Polly snuggled up on my back. That little beagle saved my life.

I eventually found a house, a job I love, and my joy with Polly beside me the entire time. She was a wonderful hostess to house guests making sure that if they left any underwear within reach she would eat them right up. She was very cautious about making sure the oven was not on for too long with coming and finding me so I could check it. She also was the best little bed heater and snuggler a girl could ask for.

Last month Polly got very sick. First we removed a tumor on her belly and then a we found one that would eventually grow into her brain. I told her that she saved my life and I would not let her live in pain. The night that she could not sleep comfortably in my bed and chose the hard floor, I knew it was time. So I did what a loving dog mom does. I spent the day with her and at 4:00pm Beardy Face (more about him in later posts) and I went to give her peace.

As I set there holding my girl and loving on her. I knew that a piece of my heart would be missing. She brought me back from the breaking point. She is the reason I didn't jump and she was the reason I took a walk the day I knew I needed to make a serious changes in my life and chose to go to BLR. She was my angel. As the doctor came in and out of the room preparing for her departure I kissed her face and thanked her. This little dog who saved me.

It is hard not to be desperately sad. It is hard missing her every day. This house is quiet and lonely and I constantly forget that she will not be here when I come home at the end of a long day. It is hard. But I would not trade a day of loving her. The sadness of missing her is nothing compared to the despair I felt on that bridge that night seven years ago.  The sadness of missing her reminds me that she taught me how to love after everything was lost, how to take care of something when I could not take care of myself, how being loved is worth living.

Thank you Pollyanna for loving me so much that I could not jump.

Babies

I have something to learn from babies. They are a running theme in my life this year. A week or so before I went to BLR my partner at work had his first baby. He was perfect! Born healthy and happy. But as I began my journey to better myself the person I depend most on at work was learning how to be a dad and take care of a human (I guess we were both learning how to take care of a human, his was just much smaller and can't say words.)

When I got back from BLR there was a new pregnancy. Another friend at work was pregnant. This pregnancy was not as easy. It was her second baby and she went on bed rest a month or so before her due date. Her little guy was born healthy but tiny and needed a little time in the "baby tanning bed" for his jaundice. He has a great big brother and is now thriving and growing every day.

Amidst all these work babies, my sister got pregnant! She had been working on getting pregnant for over a year. She had miscarried and there was lots of prayer and worry but then it happened. I didn't really get excited until Christmas, when I saw her belly and felt that tiny little guy kick. I knew this guy was going to have to be a fighter. Every night I would pray for him to hold on. I would fall asleep praying, "hold on little spider monkey, hold on!" Until I got a call in the middle of the night from my dad. Ami was bleeding, they rushed her to the hospital.

I got on my knees in my living room 1,000 miles away from my sister and her baby and I prayed. I prayed hard and I asked God to do what was right for my sister. To save her from pain or hurt. To take that little tiny baby in his hands and to bless my sister so that she could be the mother she always wanted to be. Then I started emailing friends to pray. I wanted to fly home but something kept me here and I made the decision to go to my church retreat, where we had unexpected snow. I had no cell service and was snowed in and then he was born.

Robert Charles came on his own time. He was three months early and barely 3lbs but he was here and is here. Growing and thriving and teaching us, teaching me what strength looks like.

Tonight my friends had their second child.  They lost their first son the day he was born. I can remember praying for them and for healing. They have been such amazing parents to their first son. Honoring him in a myriad of ways and sharing their story with tenderness and love. And tonight they have a little boy in their arms that they will love along side their first child!

So I am sitting here weeping, overwhelmed with joy and appreciation. I have really been struggling lately with anxiety and worry, about my future, about work, and about not being motivated. Tonight as I reflect on all of these miracles I am surrounded by, I am humbled by the truth that God is Good.

I am so lucky that I get to celebrate the joys, the sorrows, the journey of so many lives. Tonight in Las Vegas my baby nephew is being held by his parents and loved with a love that is deeper than any I can imagine. In Milwaukee my friends are holding their son and falling in love more and more every moment. And in Little Rock there is a 10 month old and a 3 month old tucked into bed with sleepy parents nearby filled with love, joy and, exhaustion.

God is Good, and babies are really good.

 It's time to take care of myself so that I can love these little lives as long as possible.

What a Mess!

I know there is a running theme in this blog of me not being able to take care of myself, and this is another lesson of me learning how to do just that.

Last week was crazy! It was a huge week at work and I chose to totally and completely ask for help. I reached out to all of my networks. I had church friends praying for me, work friends giving me advice, and felt like everyone was taking care of me. It was such an important week that I just kind of flew through it until Thursday night, when I pulled into my driveway and noticed my back door was open.

I came in and saw Polly was safe, but my TV was gone. I was on the phone with my parents and told them I was going to call 911, and then I did just that. The woman who answered my 911 call was amazing and told me to get out of the house and take my dog and sit in the car, so I followed directions. Moments later there were two police officers here and it was then I realized my big messy life produced a big messy house! The officers searched through my house and then had me walk in and tell them what was missing, they were concerned that the people who broke in had destroyed my bedroom, I knew that the mess in my bedroom was mine.

I walked through the house looking for all of my treasures and most of them were there. The only thing missing was my computer and TV. I went back outside while the officers looked for fingerprints and called my Little Rock Family, who my mother had already talked to. As the police officers left my Little Rock Family pulled up.

Moments later I was standing in my house with one of the people that I respect most in the world. He was looking at me with care because someone had taken my things, but also he could tell that I was not taking care of myself. Standing in my kitchen full of dirty dishes I could see his concern, but his kindness and lack of  judgement was exactly what I needed. I packed my things and my dog and went to my Little Rock Family's home. There I was greeted with kindness, wine, and two little girls that were very sweet and very excited to have Polly sleep over.

That night we prepared for the big meeting I had the next day. I did not have time to process, I just kept going. Friday was a blur. Saturday I woke up in my bed in my messy bedroom on Valentine's Day feeling loved and embarrassed. I spent the day doing dishes, laundry, and learning that taking care of myself is just as important as taking care of others.

I get so wrapped up in my work, my friends, my church, my people. That I choose not to take care of things at home, things that make me better, safer, healthier, happy. I have always been this way. I just close the door and move on to the things that I can help with, the things I can fix. But this week someone kicked the door in and my lack of self care was evident.

This whole process, this whole journey, is about making me better and healthier.  I guess that means sometimes the door gets kicked in and you have to show the people you love and respect most that you are a mess. But fortunately they look at you with kindness, give you a safe place to heal, and help you clean up.

Oh and I have renters insurance, take it from me friends sometimes your house burns down and sometimes your door gets kicked in. Invest in renters insurance!

The State of the Sarah Address

I am overwhelmed by the number of people who care about me. This past year I have spilled my guts, my heart, my life, and my insecurites on this blog. And people have responded in huge, small, loving, kind, thoughtful ways. I am not half the person I was a year ago, which is what I thought I would be. I wanted to be thinner, have less mass, and I thought if I worked hard and wanted it enough it would just happen. It does not just happen.

It would be so nice if it just happened!

What has happened is I have lost a little weight in the past year. I have gone down a dress size and have gotten rid of all of the clothes that I did not feel good in. I have cleaned out every closet in my house. I have learned to say no to people, things, and decisions that are not good for me. I have been mindful about what I keep in my life and why.

But what I am most proud of is what I have gained this year.

This year I have learned how it feels to push your body to a place where your muscles shake and your mind says you can't go on, but your will to be better pushes you to actually be better.

I have closed my eyes out of fear but moved my fingers over this keyboard and surprisingly have been welcomed by this community who reads my words and helps me heal and grow.

I have started the process of learning what food does to my body and how I can use it as a tool and a treat, and how its power is not something that controls me but something that I control. (This is hard every day.)

I have gained back weight that I have lost and learned and tried to lose it again. I know now that this process is not failure it is growth. I am never going to be done getting healthy. I am never going on a diet or going off a diet. I am going to try to feed myself food that makes me healthier and stronger and I am not going to beat myself up when I choose a cake pop over a carrot. I am just going to try really hard to choose more carrots.

This is where I am, in the middle. I imagine I will be in the middle for a long time. I have a few goals for this year that I would like to share and hope you will help keep me accountable.

1. I will workout with my trainer 4 times a month and hope to increase my strength and decrease my body fat percentage. I also hope by the end of the year I want to go to the gym and it's not an obligation.

2. I will meal plan! I will meal plan! I will meal plan! I need help with this people. I love to cook, I love to eat. THIS SHOULD NOT BE HARD.

3. I will blog weekly. I need help with this too. I am my best self when I am sharing this journey with others, and I have to make time to do that!

I have some other goals that I am just not ready to share yet, but they are there and I am certain they will pop up.

This is not going to just happen, but it is going to happen and I am just going to try really hard. Thank you for letting me get stronger with you.