Apparently, it’s National Infertility Awareness Week (or it was last week when I wrote this). I know this because of social media. I am totally cool with normalizing fertility issues. The miscarriages I have had are the result of conceiving via medical intervention. Natural conception didn’t work for us. I’ll talk about this stuff openly + honestly all day long, but I can’t help but feel that there is a sector of people who fall under the category of “infertile” who don’t have a voice.
The month’s leading up to the 14th anniversary’s of Nicholas’ fall from a tree has had me more involved in his care than I have been in close to 12 yrs…and it was about time. I was in my second year of graduate school for physical therapy when Nicholas fell out of a tree and became the brain injured version of the person that he once was. Prior to that, I had tried to move out west for grad school, but one of the top five Doctor of Physical Therapy programs was in Boston, so I stayed (zero regrets because the MGH Institute For Health Professions was the perfect place for me). However, I was seriously considering doing my third year, my internship year, out west. This was a secret to no one and a goal I was set on achieving. When Nicholas got hurt, my parents asked me to stay and, without hesitation, I stayed.
The power of the bike is endless. We’ve all heard and read it before. We’ve seen it in millions of Instagram posts, blog posts and in countless Bicycling Magazine articles. I’ve thought and believed the bicycle to be an incredibly empowering, freeing and people connecting tool since the day my father let go of my seat and I was riding without any assistance; finding balance and momentum working seamlessly to move me forward.
The other night Pamela and I attended a Pearl Jam concert at Fenway Park – a bucket list item for both of us. As tried and true New Englanders and life long Pearl Jam fans, the concept of seeing PJ at Fenway was “pinch me” worthy, served with a healthy dose of anxiety for Pamela. The dose of anxiety was something that was always front of mind when I called in the golden ticket favor to our friend Graham. Continue Reading
You’ve heard the expressions of having several balls in the air, many irons in the fire or perhaps wearing many hats. There are a million ways to explain that feeling when you simply have a lot going on all at once. For me I refer to various areas of my life as buckets and from Sept – April my buckets were overflowing, disorganized, tipped over and downright dysfunctional. I felt like raccoons had gotten into the garbage late at night and left the contents of my life scattered in extremely odd places.
A few years back in 2013 things were going well, all things considered. I had been hit by a car and survived. I was at mile 25.2 of the Boston Marathon, and Pamela was across the street from the second blast waiting for me to make my way to the finish. Then, in late August, during a work trip, cooking and supporting People for Bikes’ Tim Johnson’s Ride On Chicago, it happened. Continue Reading
Normally our blog is about realizations, streams of consciousness, etc and rarely do we write about where we went, how we got there and what we did. Before we left on our 16 month North American van adventure, many people told us where to go and how to get there and what to do. While we were/are grateful for the insight, it was overwhelming. We are more casual and prefer to go with our gut (or our google/Instagram) and keep our ears and eyes open to insight we get from others along the way. However, we recently spent 5 days in a van driving around Iceland and a quick visit to a place with so much to offer warrants some type of itinerary. We decided a summary of our adventure might be helpful for others who are headed to the land of fire + ice…cuz everyone seems to be doing it these days.
As I sit here on the eve of the 13th anniversary of Nicholas’ accident, trying to think of something profound to say, I’m having a difficult time finding anything coherent to write because I have one million thoughts and emotions, but they are not about me or my family, for once.