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Dear Kenny,
 
I don't know how you do it. I don't know how you come back home night after night and give me your attention and share yourself with me, even if what you're sharing is frustration and disappointment. My dear one, we are not where we thought we'd be. But I have to believe this is where we are supposed to be. And this struggle is teaching us how to walk well, how to walk when we believe we are too tired to pick up our feet, and how to carry each other when the other cannot go on. You have carried me for years here. You have made my path broad, smooth, safe, and comfortable. You have moved rocks out of my way and you have carried me when I've twisted my ankles in the holes of sadness, anxiety, anger, and outright petulance. And although one hand is full, caring for this sweet life that is the very twisting and intertwining of our hearts and bones, my other hand is reaching for you, ready to support you, to carry you, to give you what I have.
 
There is this tiny, hungry mouth between us.
 
But the ropes of the past three years of marriage, and the two years before that day we said we would love each other with abandon and without boundaries are also between us, tying us to each other. The cords of our dreams and hopes for the future are braided together with those of our beautiful past. And I believe those ties will bind us together through the difficulties of our present.
 
There are days when I wish things were different, when I wish I was not where I am, or who I am. But there is never a single second that I wish I was anywhere other than with you. My life with you in the dark places is better than my life without you in the sunshine. You are my half. I love you.
 
It's your birthday and I'm not sure you believe that you have much to celebrate about the past year, or the coming one. But I hope you can find some sweet moments, some poems, to remember and cherish. This next year is about building our family, making our own traditions, and working hard to stay the people we've always been while adding the layers of mother and father. I know this is hard and heavy. But Mary Oliver wrote this about heaviness:
 
"It's not the weight you carry
 
but how you carry it-
books, bricks, grief-
it's all in the way
you embrace it, balance it, carry it
 
when you cannot and would not,
put it down."
 
Kenny, we will carry it together. And we will not put it down.
 
Happy Birthday, precious husband.
Love,
Danielle
 

Walking

I've been thinking about walking a lot, particularly the long distance walking I did every day on the Camino de Santiago last spring. I can't believe it's been almost a year since we did that. I still haven't written about our trip here and I can't find my journal from our travels last spring. I haven't written about what an amazing experience it was because I don't think I fully got to process it. We didn't get to work out what we learned about ourselves as individuals and as a couple in those 32 days and across those 500 miles. Because when we returned to Korea, I got pregnant. I didn't know it until a few weeks later and we had already moved to Seoul and were working out a new plan. And the Camino got pushed into the background and everything became horribly twisted as I entered into the first sixteen weeks of all-day sickness and general malaise.

Yesterday I was walking back from a quick trip to the store for ice cream for another midnight marathon of Parenthood with Kenny, and I wanted to just keep on walking. I wanted to walk past our room in my parents-in-law's house, past our favorite neighborhood cafe, and past the city limits. I wanted to just keep moving, to get back to that place where I felt the earth sliding underneath me, felt I was moving forward, and felt I was earning each day. I wanted to walk myself back to a place of authenticity, a place of vulnerability. That place where I started each morning on that ancient trail with a doubt that I could make it to the next destination, but a tiny mustard-seed of faith in my legs and my feet. The place where you walk past the pain, past the weariness, and past the hunger. I want to walk into a place where I feel fully myself again. I know that will take time and effort and sweat and probably a lot of sighing, sobbing, and cursing. But I am finally ready to get back to work.

I feel I took my entire pregnancy "off." I wasn't working; I wasn't writing; I wasn't committed to anything except my donut-a-day addiction. I'm ready to figure out a way to be my entire self: mother, wife, daughter, sister, and just me. I'm writing this while Jude naps. I would normally be sleeping now, too. But this feels good. I can't walk for 25 kilometers a day with a huge pack on my back, trailing behind my husband and eventually catching up with him to take our shoes off and rest in the warm Spanish sunshine. But I can write for however many minutes Jude will sleep, and I can welcome my husband home with joy and gratefulness tonight.

For 32 days, I walked a trail that millions have walked before me. I walked from St. Jean Pied de Port to Santiago de Compostela. And even when I reached that cathedral and sat in the pilgrim's service and watched the largest censer in the world swinging back and forth, filling the nave with incense, I wondered what I had walked towards.

This. This is what I walked toward. I had no idea, but I was walking toward my son, toward my life as a mother. And toward myself. I walked toward 3 am feedings and insatiable appetites and quick words between spouses and tender moments between naps. I walked toward this moment that I'm living. This imperfect, trembling, unstable, but entirely beautiful and full moment.

And now, I keep walking. I keep writing.

I hope you keep reading.

Jude EoJin Park is here!

Hello my lovelies! I have a brand new baby. He was born on February 15th at 2:32 pm and he weighs 3.02 kilograms! And he's PERFECT. If you want to see all the pictures I post, follow me on Twitter @wonjuwife or on Instagram. Love you all and we are so thrilled with the little guy.

Currently

First, thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who left me a kind comment, wrote a thoughtful email, or sent me a sweet tweet about my last post. I will be honest and tell you that I just sat with all that kindness you gave me. I just sat with it, soaked it in, and didn't bother about making sure I didn't let it go to my head.  Every gentle, encouraging word went straight to my head and I sat still, letting them all sink down into my heart. So, thank you.

Second, I am feeling much better. I wouldn't say I'm fully myself yet, but I'm finding my way back there. Despite the fact that the weather is viciously cold (I take these kind of temperatures very personally), the sun has been shining and that has made a world of difference. For two afternoons in a row, the sunshine has laid a bright square of warm light on the bed covers, and I've snuggled down into it with my kitters, reveling in the luxuriousness of naps in the sun. I've always loved to fall asleep in the sunshine, and it seems to be a special blessing just for me these days. I'm accepting it with open arms and soon-after closed eyes.

I was in the hospital earlier this week in order to receive a few pints of blood. My iron is dangerously low to begin with and it seems Jude was sucking the rest of it right out of me. This definitely could have been contributing to the depressed state I was in for so long. On Tuesday, the non-stop dizziness while I was lying still prompted us to go to the hospital and have things checked out. I'm fine and Kenny has been sneaking spinach into every meal and taking me out for steak on top of my iron supplements to get my blood back on track.

The past two weeks, really since I posted about my depression, have been so precious. I look back on just this last week and I can't count how many times I've doubled over with laughter, unable to hold myself upright any longer because Kenny and I are so tickled at ourselves. We've just been so dang funny this week. Sweet cuddles in the morning, making it a priority to get out of the house together before he goes to work in the afternoons, and the fact that every evening when he's finished I go pick him up from work have been helping me feel so much better. I am getting out of the house, out of our bedroom, and I'm spending more time actually enjoying my showers rather than sobbing through them. I am feeling so blessed that our marriage just seems to be getting even sweeter these days. It's like we're being refreshed and renewed right before everything changes.

Right now, I'm in a place where I know this time we have together is so rich and so limited. I'm trying to soak up all the moments we have just the two of us, because before I know it, there will be three! I'm just so glad to be feeling better, to be given this time of rest before Jude comes. It's a rest that's no longer filled with darkness and I couldn't be more thankful for it. I'm 37 weeks pregnant on Wednesday and have a doctor's appointment tomorrow. In these last few weeks, I want to just BE present. I don't want to wish away these last days of holding a piece of Kenny inside me. I want to be aware of every movement and appreciate this time. Lately, Kenny has made me feel like the only pregnant woman in the world. I have felt adored and cherished and cared for. What more can I ask for? (Besides a really quick and complication-free labor and delivery, right? ;)

Anyway, just an update to say that things are not normal. Not by any means. But they are not so gloomy and hopeless. If anything, I think I had to sink down to the bottom of that hole in order to get my soul to look up and see the goodness that was waiting for me. I am talking a lot more, letting myself be sad when I'm sad without feeling guilty, and allowing the happiness I've been granted to fill me up completely without shame. I've also been indulging in donuts, because come. on. They fix most everything.

Thanks again for all your support during the rough spots. I know I'm not guaranteed a smooth path from here on out, but your concern and love have definitely filled in many of the potholes along the way.

The Truth

I am struggling. I am fighting a heaviness I have not met before. Friends, I didn't know how to tell you, and so I just kept quiet. But now it is time to speak, now is the time to rally my strength and fight off whatever the hell this is brewing inside me. It is dark and scary and deep. To be honest, it is also really boring. Depression sounds so tragically beautiful sometimes– movies and dramas have made it seem like a heart-wrenching, but awfully romantic place to be. But it's not. I sit in my bedroom (that isn't truly mine) and lie on a bed (also not my very own) and I cry. Sometimes I sob uncontrollably and choke myself. Sometimes it's only tears and silence and my throat aches. Sometimes, when my body is tired of crying, I put it to sleep, hoping that while I am unaware, the hours will pass by and I will wake up new, fresh, feeling alive. But I never do. I wake up feeling pressed upon, feeling heavy, and feeling guilty for feeling all of these things while carrying this precious life around inside me. Sometimes I take half-hour scalding showers, pretending all I need is a good rinse, a good scrub, as if this despair can be washed away with a little soap and massaged out with a bit of lotion. But breathing feels the same afterwards. Lifting my limbs feels the same. I search inside for something warm, something related to hope, but I find a cold hard place right in my center.

The hardest part of all is the feeling that this depression, this constant undercurrent of immobility and inability, it has no legitimate source. I cannot point to things and appoint blame. Others must look at my life and wonder where all this sadness is coming from. Yesterday was a rough day. Kenny took me to coffee and said, "What is it, Danielle? Just tell me." And I had no answer.  I have no clue what it is. If I knew, I would tell him and we would fix it. But it's not a thing I can define. It's the cousin of despair, the bastard child of sadness and hopelessness. And it is unwelcome here.

2012

Kenny and I decided to actually make use of our camera, to get used to lugging the huge thing around, to snapping photos daily before Jude comes. We took this monster on the Camino and saw how easy it was to just leave it in the bag because of its weight and bulk. I don't want to miss precious moments in our lives, especially after Jude arrives, due to laziness! So, we are hauling our camera around, documenting the quotidian details of our life together. I don't know that I'll post the pictures every single day. Maybe I'll try for once a week, with 6 or 7 pictures together at a time. Anyway, here's a look at our 2012 so far!

We began the New Year off right with lunch at a burger place that most importantly included CHILI CHEESE FRIES. Can I get an amen?

This is really our life. I am reading and rereading this book and constantly calling Kenny to come and read something about birth that he probably doesn't want to know! 

This is proof that I have THE best husband in the world. Every night, he massages my legs and feet before bed to help with the weird pregnancy tingle. 

Hiding under our duvet. We have a nightly routine of reading the Compline prayer together and then chatting before we fall asleep. I love spending my life with this man. 

I am not proud of this picture, but I do spend a lot of time in bed looking at my belly. Still hard to believe there's a little human in there!

This is earlier today at a coffee shop on our street. Kenny recently got a new job and works from 3-10pm. The schedule is suiting us well. We get to wake up together, eat breakfast together, run errands or just lounge around during the morning and early afternoon. I usually drive him to work and pick him up later. I'm delighted that I get to start my days with him! 

And that's what's been going on! How has your year been so far? 

So Much Cute

Bo Bears loves to get in boxes.

Miso likes boxes, too. She climbed into my mom-in-law's summer clothes box.

Bo also cuddles with plastic bags. And wears Kenny's glasses just for kicks.

Miso loves watching National Geographic documentaries. She is partial to the ones about snow leopards and lions.

She got really excited about the birds, too. I love her little paw in this picture.

I'll probably end up pasting these photos all over the Internet, via Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook, but they were too cute not to share here, too!

Blerg!

Yesterday I had a pretty sore throat, but last night turned into full-blown misery with Kenny and I taking turns keeping each other awake with coughing, hacking, and wheezing of all sorts. I spent today resting, literally accomplishing nothing but a hot, steamy shower.

I didn't go to the doctor today. I've actually got an appointment scheduled for Thursday, so I'll see what kind of medicine I can take then. I'm so glad that for now it's just a ragged throat and hasn't moved into my sinuses yet. I can still breathe, although breathing does aggravate my throat constantly. And I've got a pretty sick headache going, with all the coughing and efforts not to cough because it hurts.

I had good company today, though. The kitters always seem to know when I'm sad or sick and tend to spend more time with me. So that was nice.

I'm hoping to kick this thing this week and get back to feeling better!

Cat Ladies Unite!

If you follow me on Instagram, you'll see that most of the pictures I post are of Miso and Bo. And really, I can't stop. And of course, when Twitter tells you time and time again that you have the cutest cats on the Internet, why would you even consider not posting pictures of your cats sleeping, sleeping, and sleeping? Because I love my kitters so dang much, I also love cat versus human so dang much! I'm not sure when exactly I found this website (maybe through the lovely Diana at Our City Lights?), but when I first saw it, I spent hours looking through all the comics and laughing hysterically because Yasmine Surovec, the artist and genius behind cat versus human, completely draws your life. Anyway, I recommend you check it out, even if you don't compulsively take pictures of your cats doing absolutely nothing. Here's one of my favorites:

View more of Yasmine's brilliant comics here!

Bo is a pretty regular In-Betweener, while Miso has been known to employ the Pillow Takeover tactics and loves The Butt Warmer. Hopefully when Jude comes, he'll sleep in his own bed from the beginning so I don't have even more competition for the covers! 

O Come, O Come

Today in the English worship service I attended, we sang "O Holy Night." And as the music began, I found myself closing my eyes against tears. I was filled with joy and my soul leaped and shouted that first verse and chorus. And as I sang from the deepest places, the darkest places,  I was reminded of a phrase in John Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath where he mentions Tom Joad's pregnant sister, Rose of Sharon, smiling the secret smiles of a mother. I found, as I sung, one of those secret smiles on my face. And I couldn't stop.

This Advent season is so real to me. Advent is about waiting and expectation and I've never waited for or expected anything in quite the same way as the arrival of my son. I thought about Mary and how she, too, expected a son.

I have to confess that today was a new experience for me. It's not normal for me to consider Jude's coming with a "secret smile," with a sense of peace or imagining that I will be a good mother. Usually, the idea of his birth is surrounded by feelings of doubt and uncertainty. But today, for the first time, I felt that I was meant to be Jude's mother.

None of these sentences are saying what I want to tell you. Today, Jude moved inside me when I sang about the coming Christ child. And something inside my heart shifted towards this small boy whom I've yet to meet. And I began to wait with great anticipation, excitement, and some unfathomable love I've not felt before.

Now it begins.

Jude, I am waiting for you, and this waiting is so sweet. I have not yet been made fully ready, but a few more months and I will be.

Christ, I am waiting for you, and this waiting is so sweet. Your love and your coming is the promise I cling to. You are what makes me ready. O come, O come, Emmanuel.