Tuesday, March 10, 2009

To Tat or Not to Tat? That is the Question.

Last year I added a second tattoo to my collection of body ink-art. I really love the image I chose (after I altered it a bit to suite my taste). The artist was capable enough to enlarge the image I wanted, add a few twinkle stars, and a little more color. Vwalla. I love how bright the colors are here. I'll, for sure, be lathering up with sunscreen this summer to keep the insignia from fading.

Even though I went with stars on my shoulder, I originally wanted to carefully place black stars on the top of my foot. 5 to be exact. One for each of my children and another for my husband (the biggest star in my life!)

I want something a little like this:

Or this...

Maybe this Spring will be the perfect time to gather the many different renditions I have of my favorite shape, and take them to Everlasting Impressions for my finale tattoo. I wonder if this time I will need to bring a leather strap to chew on, so I won't grind my teeth to the bone...I've heard the foot is a killer to be inked over.
Well, wish me luck!

Friday, March 6, 2009

Liz Logelin

Liz Logelin

A few months ago, I sat in a nail salon flipping through a magazine, when I came across the tragic story of the death of this young mother. She had given birth to a beautiful baby girl, and the next day passed away due to a pulmonary embolism.

Liz Logelin died almost a year ago, and the story of this lovely woman can be found here if you care to read more.

Please be aware that this site contains adult material dealing with death and loss. The blogger occasionally uses adult language as he describes his feelings of grief.

The heartbreaking tail of how a new dad is dealing with the death of his wife, and raising a baby by himself, has brought me to tears many times. One afternoon I sat reading about Liz and her tragic death, and Sabrina came into the room wondering why I was crying. All I could say was, "This mommy died right after giving birth to a beautiful baby girl, and she didn't even get to hold her." That's really all I could think about. All the other stuff became a blur as I focused my attention on the idea that after nine months of planning and loving the ever-growing child in her womb, that she didn't even get to hold her. I couldn't fathom the idea of not hugging and kissing the sweet miracle that I just gave birth to. I cried because I didn't want to think about not ever being able to hold my daughters.

Her eyes began to tear and we stood there hugging each other, as if appreciating the gesture that Liz and her daughter were never afforded.

The following is an excerpt of an email that I sent this young widower. Although I had hoped to convey my sympathy, I'm sure it wasn't adequate enough to relieve his pain. I mean, really, how could it?

Dear Matt,

"I just want you to know that there are many readers silently suffering with you. Even if we haven't lost a loved one as you did, we grieve for you anyway as we imagine our lives in your shoes. I can't say that I know what you're going through, and quite frankly, I don't want to, but I CAN say that we draw from your strength. We see you as a symbol of hope. Hope that we too, if ever faced with a similar situation, can be strong. Maybe you don't feel like you are strong, maybe you just see yourself as a person that's just surviving. Well, that too, gives us hope."

Hope. I'm sure this dear widower would rather not be a symbol of anything. I'm sure he'd rather be spending his days holding both of his girls, instead of keeping a blog so his daughter will know who her mother was. Unfortunately, somethings we just don't get to choose.