Suns

Posted on by Lauren

Don’t get me wrong.

I definitely have those pangs.

The weird desire to smell just inside the crevice of their neck, cheek-to-cheek. 

*Inhale* their sweetness.  

Feel their entire fist upon my finger . . . 

But miss those days?

Count me out.  

With four daughters, all I’ve heard is warnings of teenage days to come.

My oldest is only eleven and I’ve had to put my foot in my parental mouth more times than I care to count so I dare not assume I know better than my foremothers.  

But, I admit. . . 

I look forward to the future more than I look longingly backward to their baby days. 

Perhaps it is because I had the opportunity to experience babyhood four separate times.

My friends with twins remind me that although they were awarded double the experience at the same time, they wished they’d had the opportunity over time.  

Lord knows, I got that time- I was pregnant and/or nursing for nine years in a row.

Instead, I revel in witnessing my daughters grow into young women- their passions, insecurities and questions.

I walk alongside, offering assistance as needed and hopping in bed to cuddle when requested.

I have such faith that they will continue to shine

So, forget the mirror.

Hand me my shades.

Here come my suns.

Camille Vaughan Photography

Humanity

Posted on by Lauren

“Have you eaten breakfast?”

I stared at him, confused. 

Milliseconds passed as I wondered what on Earth had prompted my misinterpretation of this question.

Surely he had asked something else. 

I was in the Apple store, after all. 

He must have seen the perplexed look on my face when he followed with, 

“I just know that when we are under stress, we forget to eat.”

I wanted to bawl cry into his arms.

This simple act of human kindness had reduced me to near tears. 

I was there on business. 

My phone battery was dying mid-day, every day and had been for months and now, as I sat by it, waiting for important calls from doctors, it felt more dire than ever. 

It was the straw that broke the camel’s back- the reason I’d finally relented to replace my battery. 

And now I found myself in front of this young man, asking if I had remembered to eat breakfast. 

“Yes.”  I managed.  “I don’t normally, but today, I ate.”

He smiled.

And I left with the reminder that, life or death, humanity perseveres. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

The Golden Door

Posted on by Lauren

“Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

– Emma Lazarus

My father is first generation American. 

Italian, born and bred. 

So, when I graduated high school I asked for proof. 

In other words, bring me to them. 

My relatives.  

We traveled first to Rome. 

A hotel, he’d booked online.

We’d spent exactly two nights ever together in a lifetime and suddenly, 

we were residing in a closet.

On to Naples, Pompeii and Calabria: the place of my grandfather’s birth. 

Rich with olive trees, oil and seven-layer fresh lasagna. 

Here, I bonded with my foreign relatives as I screamed “Aye! Aye! Aye!” on motorbike 

through winding streets, experiencing food like it was the first time.  

Eating “al fresca”, pretending I followed their animated conversation. 

Next, to Sicily where we knocked on many a neighbor door 

until we stood in the room my grandmother was born in 1898.  

I looked around and wondered, “how?”. 

And here I am.

Standing in my father’s hospital room wondering, “how?”

If there was ever a man to give to the tired, the poor, 

Those that needed to breathe and required refuge, 

He’s right here. 

Beside the golden door.

And here I am. 

Standing in my father’s hospital room wondering, “how?”.

Gray

Posted on by Lauren

I used to feel so uncomfortable 

With Gray. 

Black and White were concrete, comforting. 

But Gray, blurred the lines. 

And I sought certainty.  

Anyone with children will explain how humbling it is to feel powerless

Be it the pregnancy, the birth, the unexpected complications or simply the milestones

All of a sudden, you are no longer in control. 

I spent a long time fighting the current

But started to enjoy the ride once I let it lead.

And that’s my approach to life these days. 

There’s no need to know what comes next; 

Instead, let’s wait and see. 

Destination unknown. 

Gray. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

Emmett Turns 50

Posted on by Lauren

Let me tell you about this man:

My husband, Emmett, who turns 50 years amazing today. 

If you’re lucky enough to know Emmett, you know ease and joy

Because that is what he embodies.

Life is fairly simple, when you allow it to be so.  

The only other man I knew to be just like him was his father. 

Happiness and joy begets the same. 

Spending time with his family is like a warm hug. 

And so is spending time with my husband. 

My love, our joy. 

Happy Birthday, my darling. 

We are all lucky to have you.  

Gift

Posted on by Lauren

There’s a reason the stewardess instructs you to put on your own oxygen mask before your child’s. 

You are no good to anyone when you’re passed out. 

So, today, when I told my therapist that my doctor explained I was anemic at my latest physical, she chuckled, “Well, that’s telling, isn’t it?”

As a universal donor, I’ve been donating roughly every 8 weeks until recently, when I was turned away for low iron.

There’s always a shortage and since I have the blood everyone needs, I always say yes.

But the theme of “taking care of myself” has been commonly discussed during therapy so it came as no surprise to my therapist to learn I had once again, run my well dry. 

It’s all about setting healthy boundaries.  

Pouring into my cup first, before sharing with others. 

“I can write a letter, if you need.” My doctor offered. 

I laughed, “No, I’m a big girl.  I can tell them No.”

A hard word for me to ever say. 

There’s always a need.

But I want to be here for the long haul, not just the present emergency. 

So, I set boundaries. 

I say, “No.”  

I take care of myself.  

And in the end, that’s my greatest gift to others. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

Moms

Posted on by Lauren

“You’re such a good mom.”

They say to me with awe and pity.  

And I wonder, 

If you were me, would you do anything differently?

I’d like to think not. 

My child, with food allergies, gets invited to a birthday party.

Of course I bring her own cupcake- dairy, egg, peanut and wheat-free. 

This is our normal.

And yes, it’s hard. 

But if it were you . . . 

You’d do it, too. 

We’re Moms. 

It’s what we do.   

Camille Vaughan Photography

Hide

Posted on by Lauren

“Are you going to hide them?” My friend asked. 

Well, shit.  

That hadn’t even occurred to me.  

Top of the closet?  Under the bed?

Um, actually, no. 

I have nothing to hide. 

The bottom drawer of my bedside table is full of awesome adult toys and if one or more of my four daughters has the audacity to peek, well then. . . . be careful of what you search for. 

“That’s private.”  I explained to my daughter. 

Case closed. 

But much like when my eldest was no longer content with the minimal basics of procreation, I will never choose to keep my children in the dark. 

We are a home that uses correct terminology. 

Penis.  Vagina.  Breasts.

NOT- wee-wee, hoo-ha, or boobies.

There’s nothing shameful about our anatomy. 

And the sooner we embrace that, the sooner we set ourselves free. 

Fun fact:

After teaching elementary school, I was a Pure Romance Consultant for four years. 

My company’s motto was:  Empower, Educate, Entertain.

And I thrived. 

I walked into a room full of women and quickly thawed the tension with humor. 

I enlightened them with facts I had learned from professors at conferences at Indiana University, the leader in Sexual Health. 

And then I empowered them to own their bodies.  

To ask me questions when we were just one-on-one

And release their fear and shame.

I won’t stop now. 

My daughters will be well-informed.  

Empowered.  Educated.  Entertained (later). 

Nothing to hide.  

Grief

Posted on by Lauren

She called it what it is:  

Grief. 

I had never associated that word with what I had been feeling but it all clicked into place. 

Grief can be due to a loss of any kind: a loved one, job, marriage, friendship or a major life change.

What I had been feeling was grief!

I described how desperate I had been to make sense of it all and store it neatly in its box. 

I’m a writer:  I like a good ending.  

And this . . . this just carried on.

I described it as spilled slime.  

Here I was, frantically trying to return the contents to its original container and no matter how hard I tried, it lingered.  

Grief has no blueprint, no timeline.

It’s messy and ugly and nonsensical.

It does not wield to your plans or box. 

It takes its time and you are merely a companion to it.  

Many try to escape its grasp- be it denial, alcohol or busyness.  

Others drown in it. 

And then there’s me- failing to recognize it for what it is. 

Well, hello grief. 

I relinquish my need to control.

I let you take your time. 

I identify you. 

I respect your process. 

And I walk with you 

Until you move along.  

 It is what it is. 

Grief. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

Resolution

Posted on by Lauren

Hello 40th year. 

I have been waiting so impatiently for you. 

And already, you are not disappointing my anticipation. 

I’ve never understood the desire to reverse the clock (my knees may disagree). 

Instead, I am so thankful for the time you’ve provided to figure out:

Who I am becoming. 

[Exhale.] 

I feel like I can finally breathe.  

As I let my past self go 

And inhale my future. 

Resolution: 

Let go of what was and look forward to what is to come. 

Cheers to a new year! 

Camille Vaughan Photography