dare to dream

When a dream dies

My first pregnancy had been SO easy.

First try.  Pregnant.  Not a day of morning sickness.

And notwithstanding the fact that I'd had my son the old-fashioned way because no anesthesiologists were on hand when I arrived at the hospital, his birth was also easy.

Two years later, I was ready to have another baby.

I'd get pregnant in late August; an early summer baby wouldn't interfere with my busy time at work, and allow me to enjoy a summer off.

Baby number two -- coming right up.

Easy peasy.

©iStockphoto.com/RonTech2000

Until I miscarried.

I was only one month along.  No big deal - I told myself.

But it was a big deal.

My body and world were reshaping, welcoming new possibilities -- I was going to have another baby.

And then I wasn't.

***

Several months ago, one of my girlfriends' dreams derailed.

Oddly enough, I immediately thought of a miscarriage.

Perhaps we've hoped and planned, planned and hoped.  Perhaps the dream was borne of necessity as was my friend's.

As we dare to dream, we are preparing to birth a new piece of our self.

Something wonderful is going to be.

But sometimes the dream dies.

And we are sad -- very sad.

Do we eventually make meaning of the experience, tell our story?

Yes.

Do we try to have another baby, dare again to dream?

Yes.

In the meantime, do we need to grieve?

Yes.

I'm trying to -- I hope you will too.

Related posts:
Morning sickness metaphor
Google lesson on dreams vs. expectations
Tell your story
Soundtrack story:  Career, motherhood and 9/11

dare to dreamgirl: Maria Carr

Say hello to dare to dreamgirl Maria Carr.

There are so many things I could say, but probably best if I introduce you to her briefly, and then let Maria tell you her story in her own words. 

Maria came to the U.S.  as a young girl - she and her family were refugees from Castro's Cuba.   She has been an actress all of her adult life, and long held the dream of having her own television show.

And now she does.

If you click either here or on the banner below, Maria shares with us her feelings just after At Home with Maria had debuted.

In her blog post Dreams and Cliff Jumping, Maria shares that after months of planning and years of preparation, she just wasn't sure she wanted to do this television show anymore.

Finally, you can watch and listen to Maria on air.

Have you had the experience similar to Maria's?  After years of preparation, you were ready to make your dream happen, and then you weren't so sure you wanted it anymore?  Or it didn't turn out as you had expected?

Will you head over to her blog and tell her Atta Girl?

The allure of the pom-pom

I sort of deserved it, but it stung nonetheless.

One of our vendors (I'm purposely being vague) recently invited me and several other clients to sit in their box at a Celtics game -- nope, not a championship game.

In making small talk, one of the fellows asked me if I were a hoops fan.  I could have given several different answers.  Like, Yes, I really enjoyed going to games when I was younger.  Or, No, not so much, but I've enjoyed seeing the Celtics' have a winning season.  Both answers would have been true.

Instead, I said, "Well, I WAS a cheerleader in high school".

To which he responded, "And, now you're a cheerleader over at Rose Park."

©iStockphoto.com/Jeremy Sterk

Weeks later, I'm still stung.

Was his comment inappropriate?

Yup.

But, given that 'it takes two to tango', and that this man's comment, albeit the most egregious over the past year, was not dissimilar to comments made by other folks, I have come to wonder if I bear some responsibility for this sort of riposte. 

I don't mean to imply that I didn't relish being a cheerleader because I did.  I spent many, many hours making up and perfecting cheers; I loved cheering for my high school.

Even today, I'm happiest when I'm cheering on my family and friends as they pursue their dreams.

But in my professional milieu, cheerleader isn't what I thought I was going for.

So why did I say what I said?

Because I must have meant it -- at least a little.

I want to be respected professionally, to have what I say and do be taken seriously.  To have gravitas.

I also want to be loved, adored, and cared for -- don't all girls?

And in a professional context, I just don't think you can have both.

So...

I've been asking myself ---

Am I going to grow up or not?

Throw down my pom-poms, as alluring as they are to hang on to?

Or get in the game?

©iStockphoto.com/Klaus Larsen

Have you read Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series?  Her books play perfectly into our desire to be loved, adored, cared for.  Which is why, in my opinion, they are so intoxicating -- I read the first three in a week.

Have you found yourself giving mixed messages?   As a professional, parent, spouse?  Why?

Have you ever become angered by a comment only to later realize that the person was merely reflecting back to you what you were emitting? 

Even as I write this, it feels that I am grappling for, or missing, something.  What are your thoughts?

Related posts:
Getting in the game
If you get defensive, you're getting close
It's just a game.  Precisely!
Et tu, Whitney?
The hazards of getting in the game

'I'dea-licious: May 2008

Dear friends --

Thank you once again for your insightful comments - you were absolutely 'I'-dea-licious in May!

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Blog I Like:  Portabellopixie
Oh, I love her fabrics as well.  They're so cheerful!  I don't know about what's out there made from her fabric, but I'd love to sew something for you--maybe we could make a deal!   Janika

Love this idea Janika. LOVE.  What a 'farmer's market-y', systergistic proposal.  Can't wait to do some bartering.

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Will kirtsy please take a bow?
Besides admiring the kirtsy women's perspective and strength, I think the new name is more meaningful than the original. To "curtsy" means to show honor and recognition, which is what kirtsy does so beautifully. Kirtsy honors and recognizes the best in things and people. To my way of thinking, this conflict helped kirtsy drill down deeper to their essence.   Janna Taylor

Janna's comment raises two important points:  1)  When we bow or kirtsy to the magnificence in others, we give them a gift of inestimable value; 2)  the crisis that precipitated the name change from sk*rt to kirtsy could certainly be defined as a Road of Trials along the hero's journey.

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Enchanted anger
I suppose that there are a great many of us who recognize we're uncomfortable in a given situation, but don't realize until later that it's actually anger...Sometimes we've suppressed them all [our feelings] for so long that we forget what they are.  Lisle

Just this past week I was flat-out startled at my response to a particular situation.  I had so cleverly disguised my anger (again, because girls don't angry - or was it rage?) that I didn't recognize it for what it was until one of my dear friends had the courage to show me to myself.  I won't lie -- it was tough.

***
I think we need to be sure that we stick to the "subject" when we are angry.  Define what is bothering us and then only, only, only deal with that one thing.  Barbara Torris

What a difference adhering to Barbara's advice would make.  And yet because most of us haven't learned how to do anger very well, and thus don't often speak until we've reached the point of rage, sticking to the 'one thing' becomes supremely difficult.

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Scribble Press:  Helping our children tell their story
Child or not, I think everyone has a story to tell...How great would it be if we could each find enough of ourselves to get published.  Emily

So, so true Emily.  One of my favorite books of recent years is Robert Atkinson's The Gift of Stories.  In it, he writes, "the ability to see our life as a comprehensible story is a key to our happiness."

P.S.  Thanks in part to your systergy 'Scribbling our children's way to self-esteem' is now one of this week's most popular stories over at kirtsy.   Anna and Darcy have  invested so many resources (brains, heart, time, money) into Scribble Press -- it's wonderful to see your support. 

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If you get defensive, you're getting close
I loved your blog last night. I've read it a couple of times. It hits close to home. I'm really grateful for your wisdom in knowing what to write.  Anonymous friend of Whitney's

Janna, thank you for having the courage to tell your story -- because courage is required to tell a truthful story.  And look what happened? Janna has helped another woman screw up the courage to dream her own dream.

Also, please note, that even though the comment is posted as anonymous, I did ask for the author's permission to post.  It is so important that each of you know that if you want something to be kept in confidence, it will be.

Thank you again to each of you for your comments both on and off-line!  Keep 'em coming!