Fourth of July brings out the baby blues

It was Fourth of July. Everyone seemed to be gathered in family groups, and there I was with my dog Annie. My friends I had planned to spend the day with had suddenly gotten busy with visiting children and grandchildren, so I headed to Yachats, a small town to the south where the 1960s continue unchanged. They were having a street fair. After walking around a little bit, Annie and I settled in one of the plastic chairs near the stage where a group was performing music that seemed to be a blend of reggae, New Age and yoga chants. Annie leaned against my legs, nervous in the crowd, a little worried about the tie-die-garbed woman doing a hula hoop dance a few feet away, the lady doing henna tattoos under the canopy next to the stage, and the tiny human who kept asking if she could pet my doggie. Sure, I said and watched her pat Annie's broad tan back.

Next to me, the little girl's mom exposed her baby bump between her midriff top and long skirt. She had flowers henna-tattooed around and below her navel. I will not let this bother me, I told myself. I sang along with the music, I pet my dog, I stared at the blue sky and green trees rising up behind the stage. The temperature was perfect, we had nowhere else to go, nothing else to do. But there were kids and moms and dads everywhere.

The night before, watching fireworks in Waldport, I was surrounded by couples with children, little ones and big ones. I felt like I didn't fit in. And here, watching barefoot young women in flowing dresses dance with their children, I had to wonder how I missed out on something so natural and normal. Men and women come together and make babies. Isn't that the way it's supposed to go? Didn't I want that? Where did I lose my way? If I had stayed with my first husband, wouldn't we eventually have had children? Maybe I should have married someone else. But I was 22. I didn't know anything. I didn't know this could happen to me.

Annie was getting hot and restless. I was getting sad. "Come on," I said, and we went home to our big house and big yard with no children and no mothers.


Sorry. I'm feeling down today. You know how that goes. I hate holidays. They bring out the blues. Don't you find that's true? How was Fourth of July for you?

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Starting Sunday afternoon, I'm going to be offline most of the time for a week or so. If I don't get to your comments or post something new, please be patient. I will seek out wi-fi as often as I can. Have a great week.

Find the light in this holiday season

My dear friends,

It's almost Christmas. I know this is a tough time for people who are grieving the loss of the children they might have had. We also miss those who have passed away. I know I would give anything for another hug from my husband or to hear my mother laugh again. But we have to accept things as they are right now, today.

Look around you and see all the good things you do have: your health, your home, the wonderful people in your life, good food, and this beautiful earth on which we live. Just now, I looked out my window and saw wild birds having a party. Bright blue Stellar's jays, brown-and-orange varied thrushes, and black-hooded Oregon juncos grazed on the lawn while a purple-breasted swallow swooped across the sky. A hint of blue showed through the clouds, and my Sitka spruce stood tall and strong despite decades of harsh wind, rain and frost. The winter solstice has past, and we will be getting more daylight every day. There is much to be grateful for.

Yes, we are surrounded by people who have children when we don't. It's easy to resent them. Don't. Love them, and love their children. Be glad they are here. If you are meant to be a parent, you will, but meanwhile, don't blind yourself to everything good in this season of light and joy.

Merry Christmas and may God bless you all.
Hugs,
Sue