Fall is tumultuous for my family. My oldest son, Miles, has a hard time in fall and I can’t blame him. The weather swings in 40-degree arcs from sunup to sundown. One day it snows and the next we’re at the playground in shorts. With this drastic weather change comes transitions for our family in terms of work (Corey has events in fall that take him away from us in the evenings; I’m starting back to work) and school for Miles. It’s a mess and it leaves us all sort of scrambling.
This fall I submitted Oren’s birth story to Birth Diverse.
I realized the feature I researched my entire pregnancy went live the day Oren was born. I love re-reading it and thinking about this project again, because it’s an awesome one I continue to write about with the Sprout Fund.
I signed up to become a milk donor with the Columbus Mothers Milk Bank. More on that later, but it’s a tumultuous process for sure.
Then I packed up my family and we hauled out to central Pennsylvania for Thanksgiving. If you’ve never traveled on a holiday with 3 young kids, you really must try it. Your meditation skills will be tested!
While we were in my hometown, my family arranged for us to visit Through the Fire Studios, a glass studio about an hour away from my parents. Eleven of us drove there with a jar of my grandmother’s ashes to incorporate bits of Gommy into glass keepsakes we’d each take to our own homes. It was a tumultuous, amazing experience.
I felt initially overwhelmed by the kilns. All I could think about as we knocked my grandmother’s ashes around was is a crematory this hot and loud? Were we disrespecting her bones as we sprinkled them on the table? What would she have thought of such a thing?
But you know what she would have thought? She would have been overjoyed that all 5 of her children and ALL of her granddaughters (well…not my cousin Greer, who has Down Syndrome and wouldn’t have done well in the glass studio) came together in one sitting. She would have sat on a bench and clutched her hands together and gushed about how nice it was.
We all got a lesson in how to handle the glass. Some of us chose to blow balls while others (including me) chose to make a “paperweight.” I use the quotations because I certainly won’t be using mine to hold down paper. I’ll be placing it on the mantle where I can look at it every day.
I made my choice because it seemed sturdiest, like something my feral sons wouldn’t destroy. Even if they hurl it across the room, I don’t think it will chip. They might maim one another with it, but Gommy will be safe.
I found the glass working to be intense. The instructor I had was very hands-off, words-on and allowed me to make and correct my own mistakes. Only when I was about to drip molten glass on my toe would he stick his hands on the bar to help me make an adjustment. I was very proud of how I was able to spin the rod with one hand and shape the glass with the other. I think Gommy would have been proud of us all for stepping pretty far outside our comfort zone to try something like this. I even used a blow torch!
Like so many things, the glass tools are set up for right-handed work only, so I was using unfamiliar muscles in unfamiliar ways to swirl the glass. I feel like the piece is complex and a bit wistful and I love it. It has a storm inside of it, and also serenity. I rather hope my sons choose to do something similar to memorialize me after I’m done with this body.
For two days afterward, my muscles ached from the heavy work. It was another tumultuous reminder of what we’d done, and I liked carrying around that physical reminder through our first holiday without my Gommy.
We’re home now, and the younger boys have started going to daycare so I can work longer hours. We’re hunkering down for winter, finding our new normal. It’s good to slow down a bit.