Friday, May 31, 2019


Today is the 10th anniversary of the assassination of Dr. George Tiller.  Dr. Tiller was the 8th abortion provider who was assassinated by fucking losers in the US.  Dr. Tiller provided abortions for women like me, women in their 2nd and 3rd trimesters who discovered their babies were devastatingly doomed. He was acting as a church usher when he was gunned down.

Obviously with the heartbeat bills and abortion bans across the US, Celine has been on my mind. With time, and the cuddles of two daughters who I frankly can't believe co-exist on the same earthly plain, I am getting closer to being able to speak publicly about Celine and the hell of losing her.  And the fortune I had to live in a state where I could say goodbye to her on my terms without the fear of incurring medical debt and the logistics of getting on an airplane.

Actually, all of my losses have been on my mind.  I imagine cops coming to my door in a hypothetical dystopian future where someone's questioned why I had five D&Cs in a row.

That abortion is healthcare is plain as day to any of us who've needed a doctor to surgically remove our miscarriage. That a 2nd trimester abortion is healthcare is plain as day to any one of us who sat with multiple teams of doctors and sonographers, and poured through medical journals and statistics after our babies' diagnoses. Every single goddamn step of my abortion was a fucking medical step.

That any of this is still being battled in state legislatures and ultimately the Supreme Court is sort of mind-boggling when you think of it. That I had a conversation with Viking a few years ago and said, "hey Viking, so you're on the same page, our house will be part of an underground railroad to safely haven and transport women to their abortions if the day ever comes" is off the chain surreal.

Monday, May 13, 2019

There's no such thing as too much love

The other morning Samantha reached out her arms and cried out for her nanny when she walked through the door.

For a moment, I was all "Oh shit, my baby is rejecting me."

My Dad always asks, "Aren't you worried that she will be confused who is her mother?" That stupid comment zipped into my brain.

And then I crushed the stupid comment. There's just no such thing as a baby feeling too much affection from the people around them.  Full stop.

Can I gush for a moment on how fortunate I am to have someone caring for my children who I trust? C is not merely competent.  She's warm and funny and loving.  And she tend to turn everything - all running commentary, instructions and questions - into song.  She's the closest thing my daughters will get to me while I'm gone, in many goofy ways.

On a day where so many were focused on the emotional energy of mothering I spent a lot of time ruminating on this woman who makes crazy a little less crazy.