the life & times of leanna m. jackson

broken.

2012-01-25T00:25:00.001-06:00

there was always a
girl inside me a little more
shy and awkward and
scared than i'd like to
admit

and then she knew pain and she was
nothing that she
was before and You
put me back
together so much
better than before

obvious.

2011-07-28T09:44:00.000-05:00

sometimes dreaming of him and
flattering him and
sitting inches from him always and
telling him everything and
trusting him and
flirting and
hinting and
vulnerably adoring are
not always so
obvious

to him

sometimes flattery and
flirtation and confiding and
finding any way to be close to her and
longing for her and
flattering her and
trusting her and
waiting and
hoping and
promises that she is
remarkable and she will
find someone who
utterly adores her, are
not always so
obvious

to her

we live in our own
minds and our own hearts and we
often find ourselves wondering if we
imagined the whole thing

simple, deductive logic
muddled by
longing

sometimes you just have to
brave it, have to
risk it, have to
kiss the girl, and
pray for a
happy ending

sperm.

2011-07-15T14:08:00.004-05:00

how do you let life
pass you by

how do you not come to his
birthday party or christmas or
thanksgiving or
every
day

how do you not know that he
loves to dance and sing
and imagine and
create

how do you not know his
favourite colour or about how
he's obsessed with ketchup and
brobee and swimming and
train sets and the rain and
helping people
cook

he can count to ten, you know
and he makes up stories and
songs and he
doesn't even
know who you
are

tribulation.

2011-07-14T16:04:00.006-05:00

i keep passing myself in the
mirror, barely recognizing myself, i have
changed so much

and i guess i've grown

see, i've lived a little and i've
encountered a few troubles and i've
learned to love jesus a little
better

the truth, however
is that while my troubles have
not been few, they've also
not been all that
"glamorous"

i don't know
suffering like he did or
real pain or
what it even feels like to
be alone

see, god is
faithful and he will not
let me be tempted beyond my
capacity

and i'm just now learning how
very, very small that
capacity really is

the movaten collaborative.

2011-06-29T20:21:00.000-05:00

two of my oldest, dearest friends and i are starting a blog together. three writers + xanga = years of friendship = an eventually irresistable desire to create something together. hence, the movaten collaborative. [mo] for jonathan, in missouri. [va] for franklin, in virginia. and [ten] for myself, in tennessee.

follow us on tumblr, twitter, &/or facebook. posting begins july 1st, and ends hopefully never.

speechless.

2011-06-29T19:40:00.001-05:00

sometimes all you
can say is just
  i love you,
  i love you,
  i love you

visible.

2011-06-27T14:08:00.001-05:00

i lie down at night with
hair disheveled and clothes ragged, post-
cooking, which happens from
scratch and from the heart and
after the laundry's all
done, after the
chasing and the wiping and the
playing and loving and
protecting from fatal injury
the entirety of my energy, spent
looking one hot mess, but
still and always
smiling

he lies down at night with
hair disheveled and clothes ragged, post-
scarfing favorite foods, after
spilling and grass-staining and ripping, after
fleeing and squirming and
playing and loving and
forever falling down
the entirety of his energy, spent
eyes wide,
disaster in his wake, and
still and always
smiling

tiny hands.

2011-06-25T16:28:00.001-05:00

little baby hands with five
tiny baby fingers, always
running away with food and
toys and books and
my heart

embrace.

2011-03-25T13:22:00.003-05:00

sometimes life reminds you that it is frail, and to embrace it.

i am not afraid of dying, and so i don't always pay it proper respect. but i'm fortunate, in a bizarre way, to have a son with a heart condition, which serves as a semi-regular reminder that life ends someday. and reminds me to live.

and so, this week, i have.

i've talked a lot about jesus.
i've hugged zebediah and told him i love him more than he can stand.
i've gone to the park.
i've called my mom every day.
i've eaten a lot of mashed potatoes and pizza.
i've gone running out of doors.
i've been honest and vulnerable.
i've listened to a lot of mewithoutYou.
i've laughed and smiled and cried and felt.
i've listened to music on cassette.
i've driven with the windows down.
i've watched the sun rise and set.
i've drank obscene amounts of coffee.
and i've breathed deep and kept on keeping on.

as should everyone.

2011-02-01T22:22:00.001-06:00

thank you, god for days full of laughter.
ie: zebediah flying planes and skydiving via wii.

2011-02-01T21:50:00.005-06:00

tiny giggles and
shimmying toddler hips are
all the joy i need

2011-01-25T13:43:00.002-06:00

in response to a newspaper campaign asking what is wrong with the world today, g.k. chesterton replied profoundly:

dear sirs,
i am.
sincerely yours,
g.k. chesterton

everything.

2011-01-23T18:01:00.026-06:00

feeling in need of
nothing in particular, i
sing out

be my everything,
be my everything

hardly willing to let you be my anything.

not my kiss goodnight or my
loving embrace. not my
aspririn or my
epidural. not my
warmth or my
shelter or my
nourishment. not
zebediah's heartbeat or
anything else that has
any significance
whatsoever.

you're my warm, fuzzy
feeling on a
tired sunday
afternoon

nothing more,
nothing more.

forward.

2010-10-12T15:33:00.001-05:00

we are not stories that can be
re-written, we cannot
re:imagine things in order to
repair them, nor heal with
the power of thought.
we walk forward and fast and
messily and beautifully
wakes of destruction behind,
striding briskly toward what
hope we have left,
faint as it may be.

featured on "with those who, a journal of empathy" by founder Ben Devries, October 2010

synthetic.

2010-09-30T13:01:00.073-05:00

i gave up rain for faucets,
built my own cave to
dwell inside.
i take weapons to my hair and
brushes to my
(painted) face.
baby's milk's made
in a factory, and i'm
not talkin' 'bout my body.
i even grow my own food faster
than you ever could.
mother earth, i am
not your machine.

--
definitely not as free-flowing as what i generally aim for, but i found it difficult to create the imagery in any kind of comfortably flowing or well-put together piece. some days, everything just feels so synthetic, and that is all i mean to portray.

beautiful.

2010-09-05T09:46:00.049-05:00

bow in hair, and
skirt falling over daddy's lap, she
is told she is
beautiful.

barely brave enough to say
yes, skirt falling down her legs and she
just wants to hear that she's
beautiful.

as wise as she is wrinkled, she
is tired and worn with time, and she
is realizing she has always been
beautiful.

poised to soar.

2010-09-03T19:04:00.004-05:00

other cheek turned, i am more
broken than before, still somehow
poised to soar

to create.

2010-08-15T15:17:00.026-05:00

is not to think or to outline or
to brainstorm, is not
methodical, does not
always require forethought or
an intensive trajectory, simply
an onset of inexorable urge
most likely a result of
daydreams, fantasizing, and the
instinctive wandering of the subconscious

it is breathing in air and
exhaling beauty

what is heart block? (v.2)

2010-08-14T18:33:00.020-05:00

when people find out my son was hospitalized three times in the first year of his life, or even once, questions dominate conversation. namely, 'what is heart block?'

what is heart block?

one might say it is an electrical problem in the heart that can cause irregular heart rates, in three colorful varieties: first degree, second degree, and third degree. like burns, third is the worst. zebediah was diagnosed with third degree, also called complete, heart block at six months old. [in utero.]

that's the short of it, anyway.

really, it is its own genre of beautiful, complicated life.

feelings of isolation.

smug looks as people try to pass me in the aisle as i struggle to jarr my toddler out of lethargy and into an active state, complete with regular heart rate.

an endless fount of criticism from the know-it-alls of the world.

costly amounts of air conditioning and a fear of outdoors (re: summer.)

a hovering, paranoid, tired mommy.

a fear of falling asleep, and at times a virtual inability to stay asleep.

fear of being honest about said fears for fear some might assume i'm out for pity.

newfound faith in myself.

a building of character.

friends and family who adamantly believe in and encourage us, who carry us through the hospitalizations, the cardiology appointments, the fainting spells, the emergency room visits, and various other cards we're dealt.

the inspiration for my deep connection with my two-year-old.

a deeper love and sense of gratitude than i'd have ever otherwise known.

what bridges the gap between regular and extraordinary. my life was little else but ordinary a few short years back, and now it is rich with joy.

forced appreciation for every tiny moment.

what makes us strong.

and a constant reminder that life is sacred and beautiful and ever so frail.

distant.

2010-05-29T11:51:00.000-05:00

i have little else apart from these
faint recollections, these
fading images of a
distant past

i am so out of touch with my
own reality, that i
cannot recall whether they are
flickering memories or
the result of a dangerous and
frightened and
vivid imagination.

--
rough. haven't written in a while. feels good, though.

the weight of silence.

2010-04-17T06:45:00.007-05:00

she would much rather bear the
burden of prosecution than
the weight of silence

unconventional.

2010-04-16T18:34:00.019-05:00

what joy onced overwhelmed is now
equally difficult to keep hold of

where tears once ran, a scowl now
rests, annoyed at a day's work forfeited
financial strains and disciplinary actions and
to be frank, a waste of
perfectly good time

heartbroken, still

living very against the grain, but not for
the sake of rebellion

rather, in opposion of
complacency and apathy and the
deadness inevitable via the
road conventionally travelled

for the unheard and
unseen and
love and
beauty

critical.

2010-04-04T18:50:00.005-05:00

so critical of our
flawed, imperfect neighbor until
we need whatever
ability they possess that we
do not

i am a waste of space,
with a spark of purpose

we can never forgive, never
set aside our pride, never
cease to hate until we
can benefit from these
god-forsaken sinners

--
seems as though people are treated this way far too often.

with love + forgiveness.

2010-02-24T14:03:00.003-06:00

yesterday i wanted to tell you that you’re an idiot. today, all that’s in my heart is an overwhelming desire to wrap you in my arms and assure you that we’re alright. it’s all less hurtful and more heartbreaking this time around. and how can you really stay upset when your friends are butchering jokes in an attempt to cheer you up?

many people will tell me to believe that you’re doing this to be dramatic. there’s still a small glimmer of hope in my heart for you, that you actually care about my son, flawed as this situation might be. but rest easy. he’s okay. we’re all okay. i probably don’t talk to you about things simply because i have my parents for that, and the amy’s. i’m sorry if you think i have de-valued or ignored your opinion for the sake of my ego or stubborn nature. i assure you i’m listening. i hear you loud and clear. you didn’t have to call in the state to make your case known. i promise that your words have not fallen on deaf ears, but i still believe strongly in the choices i make, and i can offer the comfort of knowing that i make them for a reason.

i don’t know if you believe in god or not, but i know you know me, and so you must know how much i believe in and trust him. and concerning zebediah, it is with heartfelt assurance that i believe god gave him to me. gave. to me. and he has continually reminded me that he did this on purpose, despite my own doubts. despite all our doubts.

i don’t understand why it has to be like this any more than you do. i don’t understand why the world is cruel or why children suffer. what i do understand, without any shadow of a doubt, is that there is a beautiful person inside you, a person who believes there is good in the world. a person who forgives and is tired with joy. believe for them. and forgive me for any contributions i have made to cause you to feel so disillusioned that we ended up here. life has something far, far more beautiful for you than this. believe for it. it will come in its own time.

so i’m not going to delete you from my facebook. i’m not going to protect my twitter updates. i’m not even going to go to some great lengths to assure you never see zebediah again. i’m shoving those fleshly instincts aside because if anything is healing, it’s him. he has the most beautiful heart and contagious joy of anyone i’ve known. what i will promise is to think of you, and i will hope for you. i will let zebediah love you. i know it’s cliché, especially if you’re in the bible belt, but i mean it when i say that i send prayers. with heartfelt love and forgiveness.

and i want that for you, i want you to heal and to be overwhelmed with joy like i feel today, because of you. you have opened the doors for me to be closer and closer and closer to jesus. you have shown me that i have a support system around me that is completely out of this world, and that despite anything, anything, we will persevere, and we will make it. you have shown me how to believe in myself, and you have spoken assurance and hope into my life that i’d never have gotten if someone hadn’t taken the time to doubt me. i thank you, for breathing life into me in a way that you never intended. this is beauty.

collapse.

2010-02-23T17:52:00.001-06:00

wanting things not our own, we
make our way in, so
unwelcome

the thrusting of our own desires into
vulnerable shadows, so
mistakenly exposed, so
agonizing on the entry

i can pretend this doesn't hurt or i can
fight you off, i can
attempt to disappear into my
vague recollections of
a happier time

willing the end

there is no
dismount, only invade and
invade again and i

collapse

--
god has wisely kept us in the dark concerning future events and reserved for himself the knowledge of them, that he may train us up in a dependence upon himself and a continued readiness for every event.
-matthew henry

sandpaper.

2010-02-11T15:40:00.001-06:00

i may be rough around the
edges but i'm still
breakable on the inside

all the wear and tear of a
beloved paperback, plus the
fragility of an infant, minus the
innocence

weathered by heartache and
seasoned by the calloused hearts i've
given mine away to, i'm just

one hot mess

the heat of this moment.

2010-01-30T15:00:00.007-06:00

i used to admire your beauty as you
stood so tall, shading the
sunlight and softening the fall of
the rain

it chilled me to watch as you
walked through your fire
guess it's an inevitability, even for the best of us
purpose is pain

that soft blaze quickly grew to a
raging inferno
my stomach turning as the
flames licked at you, so
stripped down and vulnerable

soon i didn't recognize you at all

while you seem so frail
this is perhaps your finest moment
made perfect in the sacrifice
of your conventional beauty

you are charred and black and
aged and
ugly

and you are falling to pieces

still, in the heat of this moment
you are most beautiful
dying and rebirthing and i am
enveloped by your warmth and i

cannot take my eyes off you

softer.

2009-12-15T08:34:00.001-06:00

it is one of my greatest weaknesses to distance myself from people who do 'unbelievable' things. to be appalled by the audacity of people. the nerve. and yet i've buried myself in a tangled web of my own mistakes and shortcomings. here i am broke, unemployed, living off the goodness of others. here i am a single, adulterous, sinning, broken human being of a parent. and though i find myself in great need, i still make room to be so naturally hostile towards others.

it's beyond a blessing to have people with such beautiful hearts in my lives, walking my road with me. they've done so, so much. i know i'd not 've come near as far without them. they've played a big hand in softening my rough edges.

and i've got far to go, yet.

2009-11-11T16:42:00.001-06:00

i need to commit myself to writing far, far more. it doesn't matter how good i am at it, it makes me feel alive.

i pledge allegiance to the media.

2009-11-11T13:31:00.007-06:00

am i proud to be an american, where
at least i know i'm free

define for me this freedom
we have fought for, these
rights we possess

are we here because of anything more than a
selfish refusal to yield to your pulpit
in our pursuit of religious freedom, we have
accomplished instead an apathy for
any and all god-based faith

define for me this happiness
we have fought for

explain to me why a country with the freedom to
pursue happiness by our own means has been
brainwashed into a materialistic, media-driven and
selfish nation, instead yielding
a miserable people

we are free to speak, and still we are
mesmerized by anyone willing to
speak for us

we could protect all that is sacred, the very
lifeblood of our own constitution, but instead we
feel disgruntled and
powerless

we are free from
unreasonable search and seizure, but we have
instead invited the circus into
our own homes via our
seventy-two inches plasma, and the
honest, trusted digital voice
speaking to our hearts through surround
sound

free indeed.

2009-11-06T10:00:00.000-06:00

i want to be swept off my tired feet.

world peace is for beauty queens.

2009-11-03T01:29:00.005-06:00

we busied ourselves with our own
advancement and we failed to
care for the widow and
feed the orphans and
love the earth and now we have
fallen to pieces

we are so overwhelmed by the problem and
unsure how to fix it, our sense of
obligation diminishing as we have
forgotten that this monster is
a result of our own
neglect

unlike.

2009-11-01T17:37:00.013-06:00

she has been tried and found
wanting

hiding, indulging her fear of heartbreak,
safe

trapped inside her own
quiet admiration and
self-fulfilling rejection

wishing she could 'unlike' people as easily as
posted items on the
world wide web, but that
anonymity and ease does not
translate to
real life

afraid to speak or
breathe or
look in his
general direction,
instead gazing intently at
her own two feet

she will never have to get hurt, never
have to let him go, never

have him at all
at this rate

resistant.

2009-11-01T02:05:00.005-06:00

old flames are
always much dimmer after
the years pass by and we
found we have
outgrown them

you're a million miles away, and i can't help but
wonder when the day will come that i'll
outgrow you

but i find myself happy here, like a
toys-r-us kid, i don't want to
grow up, i'd rather grow
into you than past
this feeling

a boy thing.

2009-10-30T16:34:00.003-05:00

sabrina: woke up today to REAL kicks.
me: must be a boy thing. zebediah beat the crap out of my uterus.

under the sky.

2009-10-28T15:56:00.000-05:00

the wisps in the clouds, and their
ever-changing variations of elegance, they tell me i
am not alone in my desire for
things beautiful and
artistic

with the sky as a canvas, he
paints me beautiful pictures all
the day long, and i
feel at home under the sky until i
fly away, o glory

2009-10-25T20:35:00.001-05:00

she dreams beyond her reach.

a thousand words.

2009-10-02T14:22:00.002-05:00

if the picture my life paints is
only half finished, is it still
worth a thousand words?

and what arrangement might those words
find themselves in?

a comedy or tragedy or an
incoherent stream of thought
an unfinished romance or a half-hearted
yet well-intentioned sermon i preach from my
less-than-entitled pedestal

whatever form they take, i hope they
find themselves beautiful and
honest and
healing

fiction.

2009-09-26T21:51:00.004-05:00

deem fiction a substance and
myself an abuser

if i can escape this
mundan existence, even
momentarily, i will
return like an
80's lab rat administering its own
slow heroin death

my heroin the heroine
her might, her bravery, her
everything-i'm-not

at the moment.

2009-09-08T20:07:00.002-05:00

life consists of the following:
moving + transferring to a new starbucks + unpacking + cleaning + adjusting + address-changing + artBeating + trying to enroll in school + planing curriculum for high school art students + chasing around a practically-toddler.

every bit of it is as amazing as it is exhausting.

frail.

2009-08-25T22:07:00.004-05:00

all she wants is to be a part of something
but she doesn't believe it could be
something beautiful

instead, she wastes away in
the arms of a lover who doesn't even like her,
in a perfect job she hates,
friendly dates she can't stand

in an ever-present never enough

her friends are constantly doing, but never
doing enough
neighbors caring, but never
caring enough

so she climbs into his bed and comes home
angry that he takes advantage
circling his home in the shadows and never
at his side, where she longs to be

rejecting everyone else, so she remains
frail and broken and pitied, because at least then she
gets his attention, gets our
attention and goes
nowhere

paperback.

2009-08-21T10:57:00.000-05:00

i am an open book. of the
paperback persuasion

hardcover may be the
cover of choice for
classic beauty and for
durability and
what have you

while i am frail and i bend and
i fall apart, i am
composed of the same
confession-filled sonnets, guised
as delicate arrangements of
imagination, and
ideas so misconstrued

if a book will be judged by its cover,
let them see it rough around the edges and
worn with time

let them see it without makeup or
plucking or primping or
manicures or hundred-dollar hair

let them see it honest and real and
let them see me

2009-08-15T16:38:00.001-05:00

one woman's trash is another woman's next craft project. {/terra bella, her nashville}

sing to the streets.

2009-08-15T15:55:00.002-05:00

no matter where or why or how, familiar or unfamiliar, zebediah is happy and staring out the window and singing. he is a beautiful human being.

peek-a-boo!

2009-08-13T16:02:00.003-05:00

it wasn't long after starting this game that he learned to do it himself. amazing the things they catch onto. and so quickly.

(he also wanders the house putting things into bags. not even diapers into the diaper bag, mind you, but i find my keys in bags of recycling and toys in bags of groceries and potatoes in the diaper bag. these are the things that make motherhood so. freaking. amazing.)

pancakes.

2009-08-09T20:04:00.001-05:00

while i hate that my son was fed pancakes, i adore these videos. he can make anything cute, even the greasy death of good food.

cornered.

2009-08-09T18:44:00.000-05:00

35mm.

2009-08-08T21:12:00.043-05:00

i wish all my mistakes were
at the beginning of the roll, when you can just
take it out and
start all over again, but
here i am at exposure twenty two and
the lens won't focus and
i'm already knee deep, committed, zooming
in and out and
in again, still
feeling around in the dark, still
trying to make it work, still
pressing to capture when i should just
leave it alone

now it's finished, my
wallet a little lighter, my
heart a little heavier and all i'm left with is a
blur

escape.

2009-08-06T22:27:00.007-05:00

rooftops and cigarettes and
classic novels and instrumental ambient and
espresso and warm rain can never
provide quite enough of an

escape.

still, i sit here atop these
twenty four stories with my own so
unfinished, where cars are distant
fireflies in the night

trying.

2009-08-01T11:39:00.013-05:00

i hope i still create art when i'm 80.

the everyday.

2009-07-31T22:52:00.007-05:00

today, there is no crayon chaos, just
art, just
you and me and
creativity
no mess, just
exploration and discovery and
fascination and growth, i want to be
less caught up and
more slowed down, not
worried about creating the
perfect life, but taking the
time to just
enjoy the one we have, enjoy
you

the universe is heavy.

2009-07-31T22:41:00.003-05:00

so much of the time i am
broken in so many places, in my
back and my heart and my
pocketbook, and i
feel the weight of the world on my
shoulders, and i
guess i'm finally figuring out that
maybe it's just that the universe feels so
much heavier because you're
so near, and you're
the one holding it all together while still
holding me

life flows different than prose.

2009-07-31T21:56:00.003-05:00

i try to write prose in little
bite-sized pieces, never
overwhelming the reader, never
losing the a.d.d. kid with too many
run-on sentences

line breaks that keep you
holding on for something, keep you
shifting your eyes to the left to see
what's coming next, but i
am not like this in real life

i try to get to know people in little
bite-sized pieces, never
overwhelming the new guy, never
losing your interest with my
deeply flawed character

but life does not flow like prose, does not
skim past the boring parts, does not
forgive mistakes like a
misspelled word, and does not
have delete or backspace or
save as draft, just has
real, unedited, imperfect and
beautiful rhythm, and i guess that's
pretty alright if i can just
stay on tempo and
breathe

all the small things.

2009-07-31T20:54:00.000-05:00

it was the end of may before i had my first appointment with my midwife, six months along. we were having that, i don't want to know the gender, but i think it's a boy, do i want to circumcise, do i go through counseling again, do i want drugs, etc. conversation when i noticed she was suddenly no longer listening to anything i was saying. now i know i am long-winded, but having a midwife inspecting your baby suddenly grow tense and start grabbing every doppler in the room to listen to your abdomen is not a comforting scenario. then she asks me if i know where vanderbilt emergency room is, and do i feel alright to drive? because she can call an ambulance for me, but it would be faster if i drove. do i need directions?

what??

and she gives me the two-second rundown of my baby's heart rate is in the 60's, when it should be in the 120-160's, signifying that he is in distress, all while she draws me a map because i must have said i was alright to drive. and off i go, with no idea really what is going on, just instructions to ask for this specific woman as soon as i get to the ER, not to park my car, to check it in valet because that's faster, and to get there as quickly as i can, but to be safe.

i spent that entire maybe ten-minute ride bawling on the phone to my friend shar, more scared than i'd ever been in my life.

when i got to the ER, the staff was fabulous about getting me upstairs and checked out in a timely manner. i had (literally, i counted) 17 people crowded in a hospital room asking me questions i never knew could exist in a medical journal. an anesthesiologist was shoving papers in my face and my junk was spread out in front of way too many members of the opposite sex while i tried my best to remain calm.

and then you kicked.
and everything stopped.

and the chaos came again as quickly as it had gone. it was now, tell surgery prep we don't need the room, get the supervising doctor in here, get ultrasound after ultrasound and find out how this baby is not in distress even though his heart is beating at a rate half of normal.

things mellowed out over the hours, but it was still a, 'make sure your baby kicks every 30-45 minutes', 'you understand there is a moderate risk of infant death, if anything feels out of the ordinary, come straight to the ER,' 'can i get you anything else?' for the remainder of my pregnancy.

you were soon diagnosed with third degree heart block, which landed us 3-5 appointments week for the remainder of my pregnancy, your first few days spent in ICU, and the nicest pediatric cardiologist a fetus / mom / kid could ever ask for.

for months, i've said that i was so grateful that you were such a ninja in utero. you saved yourself from an emergency caesarean. from more complications than you've already got. and perhaps even your own life.

but then today, out of nowhere, new details came flying out of the wood works smacking me right in the face. it is so. much. more than that.

if i had stayed in philadelphia, the leaving of which has been my greatest regret, and received prenatal care there, instead of running home to my mom because i knew 'something was wrong,' i'd have never carried you to term.

if my mom had not been having a hard time with her then husband, if they had never gotten married in the first place, if my parents had never gotten divorced, and if i had ever been taken out of town to the doctor or been able to borrow a car to get there and receive prenatal care, i'd have never carried you to term.

if my boyfriend and i had not broken up a couple months into my pregnancy, preventing me from going from philadelphia to nashville to be happy in love forever and i had received prenatal care, i'd have never carried you to term.

if i had stayed in oklahoma city when i found out i was pregnant instead of following through on my move to philadelphia (a miserably failed attempt at going to college) and received prenatal care, i'd have never carried you to term.

never.
but none of those things happened.
none.

instead, you were born in late july, a mere 4 weeks early, at a strong 5 1/2 lbs, and perfectly alright.

perfectly. alright.

thanks are in order. thank you, casey, for calling to tell me you had found someone else. thank you, mom, for being so wonderful that i didn't want to go through a pregnancy that felt so frail without you. thank you, mom and fred for suffering through marital un-bliss in such perfect timing that you saved my son. thank you, geo, for not running properly while i drove you so that i never made it to a doctor. thank you, shar for encouraging me to chase after my dreams in light of devastatingly hard pregnancy symptoms that did end up keeping me out of school, but now knowingly not because i was afraid to pursue it. thank you, oklahoma city, for making me the most miserable human being when i live in your city limits. i do love you still. thank you, bess, for being the most brilliant but still cautious and perfectly timed midwife in the world. thank you, vanderbilt, for knowing exactly what you are doing, i have never trusted medical professionals so completely. thank you, god, for hope and for all these tiny miracles. and thank you, zebediah dean, for being an overactive fetus and the strongest little boy i have ever, ever known.

fragments.

2009-07-25T23:13:00.001-05:00

fragmented pieces of my
life from here and there and
everywhere, all the
incompletes that have cost me so
much sleep and sanity are
now slowly coming together to
form a picture perfect life, like a
mosaic of everything i thought was
just broken, and i
am overjoyed, and i
am wondering how i
could ever have doubted you

a most beautiful masquerade.

2009-07-23T23:51:00.002-05:00

frowns upside down by daylight, i am
a work in progress, i am
flawed but getting there, and i am
a liar

i offer my confession of sins that are
humble in admittance, the real
skeletons buried deeper, out of
sight & mind

but the truth of the matter is a much
uglier monster, it is
beans spilled the second you
cross me, it is
critical and annoyed and it is
otherwise damaged as i
struggle to make it to
the end of the day still in
one piece, still okay with
the world at large

frowns upside down by daylight, i am
a work in progress, i am
flawed but getting there, and i am
a liar, but i am
coming to terms with
myself and
beckoning change

birthday giggles.

2009-07-22T14:25:00.001-05:00

first visit with dad!

layaway.

2009-07-21T04:45:00.000-05:00

she's not a happy girl for
rent to own, to
put on layaway until you're
ready to buy
without bantering or markdowns re:
damaged merchandise, she is
full price, all or nothing
no refunds or exchanges, she's been
bravely on display, and she's been
picked up and put down and picked
up again
her feet downtrodden with the
traffic over time, her
heart weary and broken, and still
growing back stronger, still
burning hope for tomorrow and she is
waiting for forever to
find her and wisp her
away

my hands are small, i know.

2009-07-20T09:41:00.002-05:00

but they're not yours, they are my own.

a hiccup.

2009-07-18T12:44:00.001-05:00

something struck me as exceptionally adorable this morning as he hiccup'd. documented for your enjoyment.

a gentle spirit.

2009-07-12T15:53:00.004-05:00

old people can never hear me. that whole 'soft voice' no-matter-how-loud-i-talk-all-i-get-is-'what??' thing. and with every piece of machinery at starbucks either toasting or blending or pulling shots, this can be disastrous for customers over 50.

like yesterday.

anything else for you?
what??
can we get anything else for you??
WHAT???
blenders cease.
i'm sorry, i have a soft voice.

and then, when i grimace for the annoyed this-is-the-third-time-i've-repeated-this tone, i instead am greeted with,

well, that's good. it means you have a gentle spirit.

and inside i am like, little does she know...

but in stewing over this for the past 12+ hours, maybe she's right. at first, i thought i was just gentle with zebediah. with his innocent life and fragile heart. he is deserving of gentleness, and so i find it easy.

then there's everyone else. those of us who have become jaded and now give no cause for gentleness. people who sing to us in the headsets and cuss at us if we have to cut them off to wait on someone in cafe. people who just don't get it. don't respect, don't empathize, don't for a second put themselves in anyone else's shoes.

but i've tried on theirs. and i guess what i've learned is that everyone's got some innocent, soft part of themselves that needs a gentle spirit around it. they might be bitter, jaded, rude, obnoxious, manipulative, judgemental, irresponsible, unforgiving, ignorant, or otherwise flawed.

still, i'm determined to see them as broken. as human and hurting and needing some healing. to see them as the same as me. because we are all, really. the same.

thank you, deaf old lady.
you have changed my life.

everything is a drum.

2009-07-12T14:14:00.001-05:00

or drumstick. he cling-claings his way to happiness.

[indexed] whatever you think.

2009-07-07T00:50:00.001-05:00

2009-07-05T16:21:00.005-05:00

character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, vision cleared, ambition aspired, and success achieved. -helen keller

you can dust it off and try again.

2009-06-30T15:15:00.001-05:00

this morning while using the restroom upstairs, i heard zebediah, in all his underestimated-ly capable glory, move the barriers to the stairs and begin to climb. i have never peed and washed my hands so quickly. but it's never really quickly enough, is it?

of course, the minute i came out of the bathroom to hop behind him and make sure he didn't fall, he fell. it happened like in the movies, me yelling, 'noo!' and running full sprint down the stairs to catch him.

but he'd already caught himself. he rolled down one little step and caught himself. this didn't stop the heartbreaking baby cries as i lifted him into my arms before i had time to blink.

and what did i find him doing again not ten minutes later as i was attempting to get things done for work?

climbing the stairs. naturally.

and suddenly, i was struck. awefreakingstruck.

because no matter how casually i tried to walk out of the bathroom to join him on the stairs, that kid could could probably read my fear like large newspaper print. and that distraction cost him his balance.

but even as i type this blog, i have watched him attempt to climb shorter obstacles and fall twice more.

and seriously, as soon as i typed that, he made it three.

still, he's fine. he doesn't feel like a failure. he doesn't give up because he sucks at sitting up or climbing or balancing one foot on the scanner and one on a pizza hut box. he continues in his endeavours, unscathed and virtually unaffected.

kids are resilient. and not just in that the fall doesn't break their bones like it does us 'old' people. but their spirits. those are never broken.

maybe aaliyah said it best when she sang, if at first you don't succeed, you can dust it off and try again.

as grown-ups, we are broken in so many places. we have bad knees and broken hearts and we are burned. the more i observe zebediah, the more i understand why people want to be as children again. to believe like them, love like them, live like them.

because what is failure but giving up? my pastor missy, in her blog called the failure myth, says it is one step amidst a larger process of discovery. it is a natural and necessary part of life, not an identity.

so my heart is reset. to such discovery. to resilience and love and persistence, no matter the cost. because if we naturally digress, i want that degression to travel much farther back than my bad habits and into my innocence.

i am taking up dusting.

the declension of love.

2009-06-30T01:24:00.005-05:00

he, who begins by loving christianity, better than truth, will proceed by loving his own sect or church better than christianity, and end in loving himself better than all.
-samuel taylor coleridge

--
when residing in the bible belt, one constantly wonders why in the world some people call themselves 'christians.' what is this really about? about 'doing the right thing?' about appeasing the parents or spouse or friends or the little pang of a conscience in your stomach by sacrificing your sunday sleep-in? or is it really about him? really.

i am constantly reminding myself that it is not about what a heavenly diety can do for my son, or me. it starts with god. about the beauty and love that he simply is. that's what captured me in the first place. everything else somehow comes together with love at the head.

2009-06-29T08:54:00.002-05:00

i feel. like. death.

2009-06-26T18:34:00.002-05:00

i wish i could give the entire world a giant hug right now.
do you think it would help?

birds, bees & the non-existence of storks.

2009-06-22T01:20:00.000-05:00

after eleven months of single motherhood, a paternity test is in order. got notice today of our appointment wednesday, which he made. to my surprise.

the first time i read it, i was shocked.
the second time i read it, i was convinced it was real.
every time since, i just can't wrap my mind around it.

sometime in the past almost-year, i've started to feel like i'm zebediah's only parent.

i buy and make his food and choose his diapers and i pick his cute outfits (when he wears clothes...) and i bathe him and sing to him and introduce him in little ways each day to the world around him.

the idea that someone else could be involved in raising him, in loving and growing and supporting him... it's hard to wrap my mind around.

it is both beautiful in the hope of someone else falling in love with him, and dreadful in the fear of them thinking i'm doing a terrible job.

sweet. jesus.
i thought this day would never come.

and now i guess i'll sit back and watch life work itself out in it's ever-perfect and funny little ways.

i want my baby to grow up.

2009-06-11T13:27:00.001-05:00

when i woke up this morning, zebediah was heavier. he's growing up.

there is a small phrase, a phantom of a verb that gets the obligatory throw around in every day conversation with other generics like, 'hello' and 'how are you,' causes much turmoil in the hearts of mothers:

'i don't want my baby to grow up.'

but why? why don't we? do we dread the day they will hate us for naming them what we did? hate us for giving them a curfew and grounding them and embarassing them. hate us for failing them. hate us, hate us, hate us. and then leave us.

those fears are buried somewhere in the back of my subconscious, believe me. but if i stop to think about what i am saying before i say it, i don't want to say that at all.

i find myself wanting my baby to grow up.

see, i don't want to live in a past where my baby never smiled or laughed or said i love you. i want to hear those three little words. i want to hear giggles. and most significantly, i want to see with each new day just how much you can possibly love one person. because that love, as big as it gets, teaches me to love everyone else on this planet much more gracefully. it teaches me to love myself. and it grows me up.

maybe that's what i'm afraid of. growing up. becoming a 'responsible adult.' getting boring. losing my zeal. becoming drab and uncreative. but he's teaching me. his innocence and energy have inspired me to make art. to write. to create.

and one day, when he storms out of whatever room we are conversing in saying, 'i hate you, mom!', or says nothing, or exhibits any of the other much feared disappointment in my failure, i hope to remember these thoughts. and to know that being loved back is more than worth it. worth it all.

[indexed] Sit still and stop exhibiting flashes of genius, kid.

2009-06-10T14:47:00.001-05:00

--
depressingly accurate.

living beyond fear.

2009-06-10T14:13:00.000-05:00

the baby and i spent last week in new orleans. it was refreshing. it was freeing. it was my first vacation in two years. and i was almost stupid enough not to go.

see, two weeks ago, zebediah landed himself in a hospital room for four days. we got out two days before go time. he had the chicken pox, i'd been sleeping in a crib, he was generally unhappy, still sick, had undergone a blood transfusion, and i was, simply put, just not in 'the mood' for a road trip. i barely had the energy left to keep zebediah healthy and healing, much less to drive across the country with a sicky strapped into a seat where he would surely scream the entire half-day drive.

surely.

then my friend brent said to me, 'maybe G-d's trying to teach you about faith?'

maybe.

so we woke up a few hours after that, threw our favorite outfits from the laundry basket to the suitcase, googled directions, and drove. it was the most unplanned trip of my life, and one of the best. the drive was beautiful. the people were even more beautiful. and the experience was transforming. once i was on the road, and zebediah was fine, i wondered what i had been so worried about in the first place.

so i spent those four days with some of the most loving people i have ever known. instead of at home, worrying over my child.

it kills me to think that i never got maternity portraits because i was too scared to travel after getting out of the hospital w/zebediah's heart block freshly diagnosed. too scared to make memories of the most beautiful time of my life. but he was fine.

i guess if we can stop and think two days or weeks or months past our present circumstances, our fear suddenly seems frail and hope grows stronger. and when we do, we're all the better for it... because we have lived.

xerox.

2009-06-01T12:42:00.000-05:00

the world is a big mess of color and
delicate arrangments of visual melody
and my small part is like a
black and white sketch in a gallery of
mixed media

if i am black and white, then you
are color

you are beautiful and vibrant and i am
simply shades of gray
i am nothing more than a xerox copy of
a classic monet or rembrant

not worthy to hang in the same hall, still...
i do

all the glory may be diminished in the
black ink's attempt to imitate the beauty and
depth of color

still you find joy in this, in my
frail attempts at purity, my selfish
attempts at goodness, and my
feeble attempts at making my life a self-portrait of
everything you embody

not only because the simple lines i draw only
accentuate your intensity, but because you honestly and
deeply appreciate my
simplicity

what is heart block?

2009-06-01T00:46:00.003-05:00

when people find out my son has been hospitalized three times in the first year of his life, or even once, questions start popping up. namely, 'what is heart block?'

what is heart block?

one might say it is an electrical problem in the heart that can cause irregular heart rates, in three colorful varieties: first degree, second degree, and third degree. like burns, third is the worst. zebediah was diagnosed with third degree, also called complete, heart block at six months old. [in utero.]

that's the short version, anyway.

really, it is a part time job because i am too afraid to leave him, even that often. but we must have a way to buy food.

it is never trusting babysitters.

it is losing sleep for days at a time &/or 48 hours straight because his heart rate is in the 40's, and i think he's okay, but he might not be, but he might be, and we don't have insurance so i don't want to take him in if i don't have to but where is the line between being overly cautious and being an idiot? /rhetorical

it is a high-strung, often stressed out, grouchy, defensive, snappy, over-protective jerk of a mom.

it is the chicken pox turned infection in the eye = a blood transfusion because his poor tiny body is not as strong when fighting these kinds of big monsters.

it is a stethoscope's permanent presence in the diaper bag.

it is a lot of tears. a lot of growing and a lot of finding strength in god.

it is an ever-present chance of going into heart failure.

it is never taking things for granted, at least not quite as carelessly as i used to.

it is believing for and witnessing miracles. knowing that life is sacred and beautiful. knowing that every day matters. and continually finding ways to savor each moment, taking full advantage of the beauty in every. single. one.

it is me growing up.

and it is perhaps the reason that i have an even deeper and more awe-inspiring love for my son than i could ever have otherwise had.

my mouth as a musical instrument.

2009-05-18T23:28:00.001-05:00

he's been doing this for a handful of weeks now and i finally managed to capture it in video form. my child is cute beyond measure.

i am lowercase.

2009-05-15T16:04:00.000-05:00

my heart breaks to the rhythm of
soft and tired cries, of
miniature frowns and
baby falling down

i am but a small instrument in this
song of joy, of tragedy and
triumph and
of life

what once grew inside of me is
so much bigger than myself, so
infinitely beautiful, and was always so
gloriously unfathomable

i'm giddy like a 12yo aoler
typing in aLtErNaTinG CaPs, but i
am lowercase

i am simply details
the diaper changing,
food making, milk producing, laundry doing
details

you are innocence, the
essence of purity, you are
growing into something awe-inspiring, and you brought out
all that is beautiful in me

why being a mom is awesome.

2009-05-14T16:16:00.001-05:00

zebediah: dadadadadadadadadadada
leanna: say mama!
zebediah: ada!!
leanna: ma!
zebediah: dadadaaaa
leanna: I'M NOT YOUR DAD!!

where our creativity has gone.

2009-05-14T14:32:00.003-05:00

zebediah has been spending his days walking around the coffee table relocating everything to the floor. amidst all this exploration, i find myself constantly taking things from him i never noticed there before. pocket knives, table knives, forks, other sharp &/or relatively unsafe objects.

while i am fascinated and proud at my son's development, i feel terrible that i am constantly taking from him. even if it is very much for his own protection.

and it gets me thinking.

we wonder, 'where has our creativity gone?' 'our innocence?' 'our optimism?' 'our hope?'

maybe they've gone nowhere. maybe they all still linger inside us, crouched in the corner trying not to be snatched away with the rest of us. with our imagination and exploratory nature. maybe they gave up before they were told, 'no!'

that's not to say we should let our children run free wreaking havoc on our surroundings. but it's to say that we should create at least one place for them where they are completely free to roam. if it's the backyard or a room of the house. give them at least that much opportunity to be in their element.

and for ourselves, it's to say to never stop. to press on. to not let defeatism rule us. we are made with imaginations. they don't have to dissipate with responsibility. they should instead be well nourished and flourish with our growth. it is to do more than exist. it is to live.

all of life is art.

2009-05-13T15:48:00.001-05:00

all of life is art. it is bicycle reflectors in a tree. what was once perhaps originally intended to warn groggy drivers and cyclers has been wielded into an ever-growing & changing work of art.

art is more than a brushstroke. it is in the imagination and spontaneity that drives a person to do something unheard of. something out of character. something becoming of us and heartfelt and vulnerable and honest. it is a thing of beauty, and it's what gets me out of bed each dreary morning.

inside us all is something beautiful, something longing to be created. if we let it, it will consume us. pour out of us.

it is creating something from nothing. it is lining the walls of your house with paper so that your child can create something magical out of crayon chaos. it is the rainbow array of shirts in your color-coded closet. how you wear your makeup and hair and piece together your wardrobe. it is in the layout of your home and the decor on your walls. the way you make your bed in the morning. how you see and interpret the world around you, in your own unique fashion. it is what you breathe. it is you, and it is me. and it is waiting.

break from your routine tomorrow. be spontaneous. breathe life into the creative person inside you. and live inspired.

[xkcd] packages.

2009-04-30T22:45:00.001-05:00

never too old to play tag.

2009-04-27T12:35:00.010-05:00

for lory.

what's your current obsession? learning & growing as a mum.
what's your weirdest obsession? matching my son
what are you wearing today? a brown dress
why is today special? i'm off work & get to spend it with my son
what would you like to learn to do? so many things
what's for dinner today? i've no idea...
what's the last thing you bought? a sippy cup
what are you listening to right now? ella fitz
what's your favorite weather? the warm kind
what's your most challenging goal right now? quitting wendy's.
what do you think about the person who tagged you? she's sweet!
if you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished anywhere in the world, where would you like it to be? either philadelphia or new zealand.
favorite vacation spot? brooklyn
what would you like to have in your hands right now? my son :)
what would you like to get rid of? most of what i own.
if you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go? my mum's.
which language do you want to learn? sign language
what super power would you like to possess? healing.
what's your favorite thing about the city you live in? people that live in it.
what's your favorite piece of clothing in your own closet? my only organic cotton dress. it's almost softer than zebediah.
what's your dream job? something helping people.
if you had $150 now what would you spend it on? travel.
do you admire anyone's style? megan joy corkrey.

describe your personal style. or lack thereof? it varies.
who's movie premiere would you want tickets to? edward norton.
who's closet would you want to raid? megan joy's ai wardrobe, i suppose.
what are you most proud of? the baby i made.

now the rules of this tag:
1. respond and rework: answer the questions on your blog, replace one question you dislike with a question of your own invention.
2. tag 7 other people you would like to learn more about.

[xkcd] swine flu.

2009-04-26T20:49:00.000-05:00

inspiration fail.

2009-04-25T01:18:00.008-05:00

/lack of inspiration for
-words that fall short despite
+sincere aspirations and
+heartfelt pleas played out on my
*keyboard

/discontentment and manic swings and
-negativity and criticism and
-unsolicited advice regarding how
+everyone, especially myself, can
#unfail at life

/exhaustion from
@zebediahdean, the single greatest
+thing ever to happen to me

\something deeper, something
+magical. life born from mine and
+somehow still so beautiful
-in spite of me

\fascination, unending awe and
+learning to love, and
+finding a better person inside, a
+whole person, who held
+life in her womb, who
+found hope and who
+has seen beauty

+who is whole and
+inspired far beyond words, but who
+will write in valiant effort to
+share it with the #world

--
/ signifies the ending of something, \ the beginning. - negative aspects. + positive aspects. * a filler, and # tweet trends that i don't understand.

baby lag.

2009-04-24T10:41:00.000-05:00

sometimes having a baby is like perma-jet lag.

only cuter.
/exhausted

artist.

2009-04-22T12:16:00.000-05:00

thrift scores.

2009-04-20T14:54:00.004-05:00

i was randomly driving by this thrift store today after delivering papers and decided to stop and see if i could find z any shorts, being as he has like 2 pairs. what i found was GLORIOUS.

BEST. OVERALLS. EVER. bright colors AND dinosaurs?! <3333

cute striped short overalls!

a couple fun short outfits.

and a handful of shirts for wintertime. i couldn't resist.

all for the amazing low price of $15.02.
ah, i love my life.

[q] corruption.

2009-04-17T16:56:00.001-05:00

the surest way to corrupt a youth is to instruct him to hold in higher esteem those who think alike than those who think differently.
-nietzsche

[indexed] shhhh.

2009-04-17T13:18:00.001-05:00

sub abigail williams with zebediah jackson, and this is a pretty good picture of my life :)

no food or drink.

2009-04-16T11:29:00.003-05:00

do any of you other nursing mothers hesitate to enter when you see those no food or drink beyond this point signs?

i kind of am food &/or drink.
just saying.

stuck.

2009-04-14T09:01:00.003-05:00

my profile views count is stuck at 5300. i wonder how long it's been like that.

additionally, i wonder how long it will take me to complete all these blog drafts i have. :P

*sigh

[indexed] landfills are treasure cloves.

2009-04-10T13:51:00.000-05:00

[xkcd] security question.

2009-04-06T11:59:00.003-05:00

lolz...

real men eat purees.

2009-04-05T14:56:00.004-05:00

joel: Hope I get to meet him someday.
me: um, you do when you tell me i can come visit you
me: we require a blender. that's about it. :P
joel: Only reason for a single guy to have a blender is for drinks, and I don't drink margaritas
me: what you don't eat purees?

time.

2009-04-01T21:47:00.007-05:00

all i've blogged lately are pictures and videos. no memories. no high-powered motivational stories for the average american's blog.

the ideas come, and before i can get to my phone or a computer, it's gone as quickly as it came. and i am left as uninspired as before.

i'm so preoccupied with who's watching the baby what day and at what time and who's picking up and dropping off and commuting and cleaning diapers and chopping and puree'ing and cooling and jarring and laundry-ing that i haven't written a thing in months.

what once would leave me feeling empty and unaccomplished is now frivolous. i have my son in my arms and i've finally learned how to not be in a hurry. there is a quiet rest and relaxation in peeling and chopping an apple. it is in these simple times, caring for zebediah, that i enjoy him the most. who'd have known.

[indexed] floaties.

2009-03-31T13:49:00.002-05:00

[xkcd] parking.

2009-03-30T13:36:00.002-05:00

people so do this all the time! i am so starting to carry a torch. starting yesterday.

baby noise.

2009-03-27T21:54:00.001-05:00

kicks.

2009-03-25T16:59:00.000-05:00

he likes peek a boo. & hates being candid. but it's alright. 'cause he's still friggan adorable.

sing song.

2009-03-21T19:46:00.001-05:00

and now it's time for silly songs with baby.

incandescently happy.

2009-03-20T18:15:00.000-05:00

i wish he giggled as much in the videos as in real life.