Dear Evangeline

For the Parent That Knows Nothing About Parenting (From a Parent that Knows Nothing, Either)

Dear Evangeline,   I have a bit of news for you and, while I do think I will regret writing this at some point in your teenage future, it’s just something I need to get off my chest: I have absolutely no clue what I’m doing. Specifically, I mean that in regards to parenting, but that very general statement can also be cast on other areas of of my life, certainly not excluding taxes or…

How I Learned How to Be Happy (90% of the time) in 2016

The holiday season means a lot of different things to a lot of different people. Sure, some celebrate Christmas, others celebrate Hanukah, and an increasing minority celebrate no religious holiday at all. But I’m talking more about the fact that this season reminds me of the eruption of an emotional volcano, when many adults ooze with a lava of anxiety, trepidation, fear, anger and resentment.…

Let’s Outdo Big Eyes with Big Mouths: Why I Won’t Stop Talking About IBD

Life is really complicated. And the older I get, the more complicated it becomes. I guess the universe evens things out by allowing me to give a few less f*$*s. Because if I was traversing the same route I was in my teenage years and early twenties, my brain would have blown a gasket by now. Funny how that works. But that resiliency has become an indispensable key to fighting this disease. I was…

Thank you, Mr. Trump, For Making America Great Again

Clearly, our country is divided. We can feel it, hear it… hell, we can even see it in stark red and blue colors on the electoral college map. But the place that I sense the deepest divide is not racial in orientation. It isn’t geographical. And it isn’t rooted in sex or gender. It’s generational. And nowhere can that be seen more clearly than when we look at how America’s youngest voters…

The End of a Pregnancy Is Never How Trump Described: But It Can Look Like This

My vote is with Hillary Clinton. For so many reasons, but if I had to sum it into one word, it would be this: humanity. And last night, for perhaps the first time in this debate series, I saw Hillary go somewhere that I hadn’t seen her go. When the issue of women’s rights arose, something happened to her. Her eyes softened, conveying her sadness. Her stance, less postured. It was as though her…

I Have Been Cured of IBD

I saw the nurse leave the room for a moment, just as I knew something was wrong. “Help!” I wanted to cry out, but my voice had been taken from me. I started to bang on the chair, hopeful that one of the other patients sitting for their chemotherapy treatment would notice. Thankfully, they did. Within moments the drug being fed through my veins was exchanged with Benadryl as two nurses and a…

Surgery Number Nine Tomorrow: Am I a Cat?

Cats supposedly have nine lives. There’s also been a lot of talk about magic potions that are numbered nine, and the Ancient Greeks must have had good reason for choosing nine muses. Tomorrow, I will walk into the OR, assume a crucifix-like position, and drift off to sleep to endure surgery number nine. I’m hoping the number will serve me at least as well as it served Roger Maris, but hopefully…

Does November’s Ballot Mimic the State of Motherhood?

Last night, the Democratic Party officially nominated a woman who does not know how to keep her mouth shut. She embodies so many qualities that I hope my daughter does not come to possess (read: impishness, for one), but Hillary’s outspokenness is hardly one of them. Au contraire, mon amie! Hillary’s voice represents a collective one, and the tenor of it allowed it to finally be revered, not just…

A First Step in My Contribution to #BLM: Teaching My Daughter to See Race

I can remember the first time it happened. It was the beginning of the school year and I was in second grade. A little girl with dark skin took up the desk next to me, but I had never seen her before. It quickly became apparent to me that she did not speak English. I was intrigued. I went home and borrowed my elder cousin’s Spanish textbook and became obsessed with learning her language. I wanted…

I Can’t Relate to You: An Infertility Story

  I have a daughter. She’s three and she’s perfect. Her ridiculous sense of humor makes it impossible to not have a smile plastered to your face when she’s around, and her bouncy red curls can keep my gaze immured for hours on end. She was born at 37 weeks, with scores of 9 on both Apgar’s. She was conceived with more ease than the blink of an eye, and because of my ripe young age at her…

It’s the Age of “I Don’t Give a F*ck”

I’ve come to classify my life as largely phased into two halves, and I think may be able to relate. Maybe Jesus was able to revamp our entire calendar, but all of us are able to reach a personal point of epiphany in our own lives that is perhaps even more influential than the BC/AC dichotomy- it’s what I’ve come to call GAF/DGAF (i.e. “give a f*ck”/ “don’t give a fu*k”). I can trace back my roots…

My Illness Defines Me (and why that makes me happier than you)

My illness defines me. But it wasn’t always that way. What I didn’t realize on April 16, 2002, the day I was diagnosed with a severe form of Inflammatory Bowel Disease, was that I was not only forced into a quite unwelcome BFF relationship with my illness, but that I would literally need to relearn every instinct, every emotion and the entirety of my sense of purpose in order to survive. Lifelong…

The Worst Day of Our Wonderful Life

Life: so cruel, so heartbreaking, yet so beautiful. We spend so much of it looking for meaning; searching for answers. But something happened to my family yesterday that had no meaning. It was tragic, ruthless, and stole a piece of my family’s soul. And that piece of our meaning, that part of our life…we’ve lost it forever. We, as a family, lost a daughter, a sister, a granddaughter, and a big…

My Big Wish for Mother’s Day

Dear Evangeline,   On Sunday, we will celebrate motherhood. And the truth is, I’m just a novice. When I look back on your first year of life, I fondly remember your first smile, your first roll, and your first steps. But, mostly, I remember feeling inadequate. Depressed. Exhausted. Lonely and sick. Anxious, even. And I often wonder, still, how I survived it. Well, days like Mother’s Day remind…

When MASH Builds Dreams, and Infertility Burns Them

[Date: January 31, 1998     Location: Huntington, NY] My pencil was quickly swirling when Courtney yelled, “STOP!” She snatched the paper from my grip and after  just a few moments, she delivered my future. “Two kids and a dusty haired husband. You’ll live in New York and you’re going to be a really tired doctor.” My heart thumped just a little harder. I was turning 13 in just a short week and…

I Decided to Not Kill Your Daddy

Dear Evangeline,   It was just about three years ago that the thoughts began to swirl around my head. It was about the same point in time that I became cognizant of my own clinical depression; lucky for daddy, I’d say, because without some self-awareness I’m sure things would not have ended pretty. You see, Evangeline, I still can’t pinpoint exactly what it was that made me want to kill your…

On Regrets, Loneliness and Young Motherhood

Dear Evangeline,   The space was dark and we were sitting tightly packed together, legs tucked snuggly under the bar when she asked me, “has it been lonely for you? I mean, having a kid before any of our friends have? It must be hard.” I had just celebrated my 31st birthday, and your 3rd. Still, I sit now on the eve of my best friend’s due date, with not one of my similarly-aged girlfriends yet…