New adventures

My husband and I are splitting. I'm finally coming to grips with this fact, I think. It's a long and actually unnecessary story; however, it's happening and it's not pretty. Tiger and Dragon are almost 3 years and 8 months old, respectively. I've a mountain of debt. I worry every day I won't be able to provide for my boys - not just materially, but emotionally. Will I have the energy, the love, the stamina and patience? Sometimes yes and sometimes no, is what I'm finding. I'm trying to be gentle with myself when I lose patience with my eldest. This is a big transition for him and he's seen and heard a lot if nastiness pass between his parents pretty much since the day he was born. And he has been diagnosed with asperger's, so transitions and emotional strife are already difficult for him. But, he's sweet and funny and so smart. There are days though, where he and I just butt heads all day. And at the end of the day I realize I've been a yell machine. Then I apologize to my sensitive Tiger who just wants mommy to be happy, as he tells me. Heart breaking moments. My Dragon is still so little. He's seen his share of fighting though too,so I'm glad he won't remember it and won't have to endure it much longer. He's one of the happiest, chillest babies ever. Doesn't sleep for shit, but none of my kids do! People always remark how happy he is and he has a smile for anyone who has one for him. I can pass him around to complete strangers and he won't bat an eye. Sometimes I worry he has sensed the tension between his dad and me and so he makes sure to overcompensate by being "easy". I hope I'm wrong about that. I hope it's just his disposition.
Anyway, my soon-to-be ex is a good father. A great one, in fact and very involved. Even though it makes life much harder for me personally, he'll stay very involved with our boys. I won't malign him for his parenting, I've got nothing to malign and given my foibles as a parent, it would be foolhardy to do so. Our marriage had good times, very good and there were some wonderful things I wish we could have salvaged, but it was not to be. We started out with too many obstacles, thought we could overcome them, and failed. So now there's a new chapter. I've created a new community of single moms, many who are going through divorce themselves. I'm thinking a lot about community and friendship and how impossible this all is without it. My life already looks vastly different than it did a year ago, six months ago, two months ago. With each new challenge I wonder "can I do it?" I'm amazed each time that the answer is yes. It may be chaotic or messy or not done exactly right, but at the end of the day, me and my boys are still here. We're still healthy. We still laugh and hug. So I will continue to rise up and meet each new challenge, channeling the strength I have utilized with each pregnancy, each birth. And when I stumble, I will try and love myself and ask for help from those who are willing. I write this to try and stay positive. That's no easy task. But my life will be infinitely better the more I can try to be what I am not by nature; a positive person.
I was looking up some information in one of my breastfeeding books earlier today and I came across one of the index cards I had used during Tiger's birth - the ones I had scribbled inspirational quotes on and read to keep myself going when I was two weeks overdue in the blistering August heat. The cards I had thrown across the room during transition because in that moment they were just bullshit platitudes. The quote on the card I found today said "when you are face to face with a difficulty, you are up against a discovery." I didn't attribute the quote to anyone and when I just googled it, turns out it's from Lord Kelvin. Why the hell I had a quote from a mathematical physicist scribbled on an index card for use during labor, I don't know, but I put it in the bathroom where I'll be sure to see it every day. Who knows what I'll discover next? Life doesn't always or maybe ever go how we planned, just like labor and birth. You have to believe in your own strength and be flexible enough to deviate from the plans when necessary. My new tattoo, which I am attaching a picture of to this post, is a reminder to me of my strength. That is the core of how I will get through the series of challenges and important decisions I have to make in the coming weeks and months. Always keeping my strength, and the well being of my children, first in my mind.

My son's a weaner

I can officially and with great glee say that I have (FINALLY) weaned Tiger. He'll be 3 in August. It's been quite a long and tumultuous journey. I'm glad I stuck it out, but I'm happier to be done with toddler nursing. I'm doing a dance of joy right this very minute, in fact! Poor Dragon will not get the benefit of such extended breast feeding - I'm too tired to go through that again. And at the end, it just got creepy for me. I started to feel violated. It started in my pregnancy and never really went away.
The end has been rather anti-climactic. Tiger has been down to only one nursing session for many months. After his little brother was born, Tiger had regressed back to nursing or asking/demanding to nurse way more frequently than he had been. All a natural reaction to the changes taking place and seeing a newborn nursing all the time. But, the last couple of months he was down to only nursing at bedtime just for 10 seconds or so each side as part of his bedtime routine - not to sleep or anything. In the weeks leading up to weaning him, I talked to him every night about being a big boy and not needing to nurse anymore. I told him we'd have a party with a cake to celebrate no more nursing and I cut his nightly nursing sessions even shorter. In the end, there was no cake, no party; I just let it quietly go. I decided to normalize it rather than make it a big deal. And so one night, at the appointed time, when he asked to nurse I said "no" and gently reminded him that he is a big boy. He threw a minor tantrum. Then I told him a story about one of his favorite trains and said goodnight. Upon leaving his room, I told him to have sweet dreams and he said "thanks, mom." Grown up in so many ways, this little man of almost 3 years. It's been almost 2 weeks and he's asked to nurse every night but one. He starts to whine when I say no, but he's easily pacified by our new ritual of making up stories together. He fills in the names of trains and certain plot points. Every story is about him and his brother taking adventures on the trains and all end with them falling asleep holding hands. I knew I needed something to sub in for the nursing, something that would comfort and relax him. The story telling was improvised. So much of this parenting thing is just making shit up and seeing if it works. This worked. For now. And so the transition has been pretty seamless.
I have no regrets about ending my nursing relationship with Tiger. I wish I could have done so during my pregnancy, but it would have been so traumatic and such a struggle. Like with his sleep issues, I waited until I sensed he was ready and could handle it, even though it was way longer than I wanted it to be, and so the change has been easier on him and on me. I'm hoping to wean Dragon much earlier, around his first birthday, to give myself and my body a rest and a break. I need that. I deserve that.
Anyway, I suppose I'm another example proving that extended breast feeding doesn't mess up your kid - Tiger is lovely. He's funny and smart as hell and really affectionate. He's also a crazy toddler tyrant like all kids at his age. Also, all kids wean eventually. You just have to assess when neither of you is really benefiting from the relationship anymore and make the change to something different. And so another milestone passes and another chapter begins. The days of Tiger's sleep issues we struggled and fought through at the beginning of this blog are long behind us. I love walking out of his room with him still awake, bidding him goodnight and knowing he'll go to sleep on his own and sleep through most every night. These things all work out in the end. And the torture we put ourselves through as parents trying to make our child's behaviors fit into what we want them to be or what other kids are doing is just wasted energy. I worry so much, too much. The blessing of a second child is the relaxation and confidence that accompany it. It helps me let go of Tiger a little bit too. He's fine, he's more than fine. So is Dragon. And me. Our little family is OK. It's all changing but it's OK. Goodnight. Sweet dreams. I'll see you in the morning.

Selfie

I'm going through a particular rough spot in my life. The hardest I've been through since my miscarriage. I had drinks and dinner with a friend without kids (a real treat). A FB friend. A mom friend. We don't know each other so well, but well enough. Our FB mom's group shares a lot, deep personal things, so it's like we all know each other better than we do. She tells me I'm worthy and need to take care of myself and my eyes well up with tears. I'm struck again by so many of us who are lost in an abyss of self-loathing. This is particularly strong amongst the mommas I know.
The worst thing someone can tell me is I'm a bad mom, that I'm damaging my kids. And I've been told this lately. I internalize it and believe it and then it has the very real possibility of becoming true.
Lately, I've been besieged by name calling and aggressive denigration by some external sources. But it doesn't rival the cacophony in my head. I don't need help feeling unworthy- I can do that plenty well on my own, thank you very much. So these days I am slowly starting to reach out to and surround myself with those who will point to my inherent worth, my basic goodness, while being real with me about mistakes I've made. I need the constant reminder that I'm a good mom, a good person, a force for change and help in the world. The reminders serve as just that; it's up to me to internalize them. That's the next phase I'm working on - but that's a life long one for me.
So, tonight is just a heartfelt thank you for those who are giving me those reminders these days. To those who are reflecting back at me my goodness. I may not always believe you, but it helps to hear it. You know who you are. And I hope I pay you back in kind by reflecting back your own self worth.

On being a mother (shut yer mouth!)

It's mother's day again. This is my first year as a mother of 2 (well, 2 who are outside of my womb). I am the mother of 2 wonderful amazing boys – ages 2 ¾ years and 6 months. Having lost a baby prior to the birth of our eldest, not a day goes by that I don't appreciate and marvel at my healthy boys. I am so happy to be a mother – even though it is incredibly difficult and at times, I wish I weren't one, wish I could cash it all in for travel and fun and drinking on outdoor patios. Many little girls dream of their wedding day – I skipped that dream and always dreamt of being a mother. Being a mom has always been my calling. And, I have since learned, that helping pregnant and birthing mothers is also my calling – just an extension of my want of children. I am so thrilled to be a mom to boys – I love boys, I feel more in tune with boys than girls, never having been a "girlie girl" (or woman) myself. I'm far more comfortable in their world of trucks and trains and dirt than I would be in a world of princesses. Our youngest is still just a cuddly, snugly, smiley bag o' cuteness. Our eldest is running, jumping , hitting, throwing tantrums, finding his voice, telling me stories, blowing "zerberts" on my body and laughing hysterically. They are starting to become brothers – my eldest patting his brother on the head and blowing him kisses at times, running screaming "I don't want S to look at me!" at other times. S adores his brother and follows his every move. If R is around, S sees no one else. I can't wait to see how their relationship grows and changes in the next year as the baby starts to move and talk.
Becoming a mother has brought me so much – brought me to my calling of working as a doula (birth assistant), which in turn, has brought me into an amazing and beautiful community of local birth workers and mothers. It has brought me into a truly amazing communal mother's group on Facebook that started with just me and a few of my friends and has swelled to over 200 caring amazing women practicing the "it takes a village" type of support necessary to parent sanely and take care of our emotional and physical needs as mothers. It has taught me where my weaknesses are and highlighted where my strengths are. It has taught me that for every screw up with my kids, there is another chance to get it right. My boys always forgive and always re-set to the present moment. I'm still learning, all the time. And trying not to be so hard on myself is the biggest on-going lesson. That is where my friends on mom's group are so instrumental and my love for them, even when I have not met so many of them in person, is so deep for their constant support, humor and bravery in vocalizing so many of the things that drive us all nuts about being a mother and the emotional struggles we all face while supporting each other in our basic goodness always.
I think it's hard for men to understand what it is to be a mom. Being a dad appears to be a different beast. The societal pressure, pressure from family and friends, and the pressure we place on ourselves as mothers is enormous. And the tribal and communal ways of birthing and motherhood are not routinely practiced in our country today. I am learning to ask for help, to create the community and finding that it's amazing how, if you ask, others will provide willingly. This is beneficial not only to me, but to my boys who get to have a wealth of women (and men) coming in and out to help care for them and help care for their mom, which in turn, allows me to be a better mother.
So, this mother's day for me is not about much else other than appreciation – for all that motherhood has brought to me and all that my boys have brought to me. But, mostly, this mother's day I'm thinking about my community, my tribe and I'm so thankful for them. Many thanks for not making feel crazy or "bad" for many of the thoughts and emotions I have surrounding motherhood – for supporting me through my struggles, helping me laugh at my foibles, and shining a spotlight on my successes. May we all appreciate the mothers of the world today and every day.

Home sweet home birth

I've been gone from my blog for some time. Pregnancy, working FT, birth of a second child (little Dragon), maternity leave, now back to work. It all seems to have gone by very quickly. Now four months postpartum, I've been reflecting a lot on my birth experience with Dragon. My wonderful home birth. How incredibly fortunate I was to give birth in the most normalized way possible - in our own bed without any intervention! I had planned for that birth and hoped everything would follow according to plan and although, as it always is with birth, things didn't go exactly as planned, I had the birth experience I had hoped for. I am so glad for having had the experience of a home birth with family in attendance and midwives who just barely made it (my fault!). It was a truly transformative experience, as every birth is. But this one will always be a sweet memory. It was a true experience of all I've espoused and taught during my time as a birth advocate and doula. Wow. There are no words for laboring in your own space in between bites of food at the dinner table with your two year old and your mom, on the living room floor, in the bedroom on the ball while watching "Forgetting Sarah Marshall", in the rented birth pool. No words for going through transition clutching the picture of your Buddhist teacher and changing the mantra "I love you I love you" over and over as the awesome power of birth just takes over and you swim in an ocean of fear with no choice but to let go and trust in the process, trust in your body. No words for your water breaking as the baby descends into the birth canal and your uterus starts pushing him out - not you, your uterus doing all the work and wait! Shit! The midwives aren't here! Because you waited so long and it went so quickly that you hadn't called them yet. Progressing from 3 Cms at 5:30 pm to delivering at 10:08 pm? That's some powerful stuff. And it all just HAPPENED. And it was all normal and fine. My midwife got there in time to help me with those last crucial pushes - getting the baby's head out without a tear. My mom played assistant when the other midwife hadn't arrived yet. The videographer was there to film the first precious moments after birth, at least. My 2 year old was there until transition and left at the perfect moment for his first sleepover away from home. He helped me breathe through contractions, gave me kisses and made me laugh in between, running his trains along the edge of the birth pool. I was alone for so much of it - the poignant coming together of birth and death- both of which we do alone no matter how much we kid ourselves. DH and my mom taking care of Tiger, no one realizing how quickly it was all going. I kept saying to DH "I don't remember it being this intense in the beginning. I don't know if I can do this if its already so intense." And the exquisite pain. Swearing I'd never do it again or if I did, I wanted the drugs next time - GIVE ME THE DRUGS!!! I wanted to birth in the pool, but we needed to slow things down - give our midwife time to arrive -so I ended up on our bed, which felt safer, literally singing out our baby boy who was born after only 20 minutes of pushing. 7 lbs 1 oz with dark hair and looking the twin of his older brother. He laid on my chest, eventually nursing, and after the placenta was born, everyone cleaned me up, cleared out and brought me and DH pumpkin pie. We laid in bed, the three of us, and ate pie and snuggled. Thanksgiving indeed. In the warmth of our own home, mommy and baby were relaxed and loved. Dragon was born two days before thanksgiving, 4 years to the day after we lost our first baby in a miscarriage at 13 weeks pregnant. He is a smiley, joyful, snuggly and chilled out baby. I attribute much of this to the way he was brought into the world. He's never spent a day in a hospital. All visits by midwives and check ups for baby were done at home in our bed. I am deeply grateful. I am deeply humbled. What our bodies can do, ladies. How can we be anything but awed and grateful to be a woman?

Quick post - the case for home births

What happened to my quick posts in between longer ones? hmmm.  OK, have to get better at that part.  So, here is a quick one.  Just wanted to share this article from the Huffington Post.  It's worth a read and a brilliant response to this article that an OB wrote in the Atlantic Monthly recently.  The Huffington Post writer does a great job of showing why the OB's account of this birth actually MAKES the case for home births that are done in coordinated way with hospitals.  She's right.  If only we could get the systems to work in tandem, we would shoot up from having some of the worst maternity care in a western nation to perhaps having the best! Midwife model of care is not about "rogue midwives" and women working in isolation - there is an aspect of cooperation between midwives, home births, birth centers, OBs and hospitals that I think is the real core of this whole "movement" (I've talked before about how I think the use of that word for women choosing midwives, home births and natural births is not appropriate) and that I think women really crave.  Anyway, I'd love to know that if I need to transfer to a hospital next time I am in the baby-having way, I will not get crap over it and will get the care I need without prejudice.  In the OB's story, he actually does all the right things, mostly because the mom makes her preferences known and forces him to utilize all choices before getting out the scalpel as he so clearly would have preferred (don't you know- he has a golf game/birthday party/is afraid of being sued?).  The OB does what he should have done but because he is forced to do so and then complains that this is the problem with home births and midwives and that he had to clean up the midwife's "mess!" He makes himself sound like an ass, frankly.  What isn't he getting? You did the right thing and the baby ended up being born healthy by vaginal delivery instead of mom having to endure major surgery after the midwife correctly transferred her to the hospital in a timely fashion - doesn't that mean the home birth and midwife care worked? Doesn't that mean it all turned out well? I want to thank this OB for posting this though - he so clearly can't see the forest for the trees and instead of making the case against home births, he makes the case for them!
Also, please note women, you have choices.  They can't do anything to you without obtaining informed consent - it is illegal to do otherwise.  Unless it is a dire emergency for you and/or baby.  This mom was smart - she questioned the doctor's push for a c-section and asked him to try other options before resorting to that.  The OB admits repeatedly in the article that a c-section was never at any time medically necessary - that to me, is malpractice.  Trying to push surgery on women who don't medically need it is a violation of their Hippocratic oath at the very least.  Good for this prepared mom who had her midwife by her side, was prepared for labor and birth, knew about all the possible interventions and made her choices known!

Pension Plans, College Funds and Sweaty Toothed Madmen

Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the
song still in them.
Henry David Thoreau

This famous quote by Thoreau has been rattling around in my head on and off for the last year or two. Some might think that's depressing, but I find it instructive.  Not only that, once I started paying
attention to it, the words became a great motivator.
When I was a teenager, I fell in love with Walt Whitman and Thoreau.  I read Walden and have more copies of Leaves of Grass then I care to count (most received as gifts from past boyfriends and bearing
romantic and "deep" inscriptions).  Whitman, much like myself, was a Long Island native.  I choose to identify him with my birthplace rather than those that have followed (Billy Joel, Debbie Gibson, Joey
Buttafuco - OK, admittedly, I like Billy Joel.).  My favorite poem was, predictably, "O me! O life!" and yes, Dead Poets Society had been released, we owned it on VHS and I probably watched it 50 times.  So, sue me.  Here is the poem, for those of you wanting to refresh your recollection:

O me! O life! of the questions of these recurring,
Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill'd with the foolish,
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I,
and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the
struggle ever renew'd,
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see
around me,
Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,
The question, O me! so sad, recurring--What good amid these, O me, O life?

Answer.
That you are here--that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

Walt Whitman (AKA Sweaty Toothed Mad Man)


Anyway, this poem runs along the same lines as the Thoreau quote and I've been mulling over both of them for a while.  I didn't know much about Thoreau's life so I read a little about him on Wikipedia (I love me some Wikipedia).  It reminded me that he was a transcendentalist.  At least, for a while.  According to further Wikipedia "research" (I use that term lightly) the transcendentalists' core belief was the inherent goodness of both man and nature. Transcendentalists believed that society and its
institutions - particularly organized religion and political parties - ultimately corrupted the purity of the individual. They had faith that man is at his best when truly "self-reliant" and independent.  It is
only from such real individuals that true community could be formed.
Much of this dovetails amazingly well with my beliefs as a Buddhist.  Last month, I spent a weekend attending a meditation program and as always, it comes back to basic goodness.  That's essentially what transcendentalists like Thoreau believed.  Whitman, on the other hand, was a humanist, smooshed in between the transcendentalists and the more cynical, I suppose you could say, realists.  Wikipedia again: humanism "focuses on human values and concerns, attaching prime importance to
human rather than divine or supernatural matters." Again, dovetails nicely with Buddhist beliefs in many ways.  The experiential value of being human – of experiencing for yourself the inherent basic goodness of all life instead of buying into a supernatural force.
This is all pretty heady stuff, I suppose, but it has been responsible for a sea change in my thinking over the last year or more and is why I am making some pretty radical choices in my life, especially in
terms of career.  Radical from some people's perspective, but not from my own within the context of Thoreau and Whitman and not within the context of what I am learning through my Buddhist studies and meditation practice.
I am not fulfilled in my current chosen career as an attorney for a state agency.  When I went
to law school, I did so for idealistic reasons (don't laugh).  Although lawyers have a reputation for corruption, many of us are in fact, devoted do-gooders and public servants.  You just don't hear about us as much because we don't make any money and we rarely make headlines.  After law school, I went to work for a small two person private firm representing people in employment discrimination cases but I was quickly disillusioned.  Our bottom line drove most everything just so we could stay afloat.   After 9 months, I quit.  I decided I wanted to take a job as a government
lawyer – what I considered and still consider to be a public service position.  I felt I would have more of a chance of helping people and society at large that way.  Also, the trade off for making very little
money, was better hours, more job stability and good benefits.  So, I became a government lawyer and 8 years later, I remain one.  Of course, by now I am totally disillusioned once again.  And the thought
that I may directly help people or be of benefit to society at large in this career path has completely vanished.  Realism is the backlash of transcendentalism, indeed.
Now, I am faced with my next move.  Do I simply leapfrog from attorney job to attorney job looking for the one that will fulfill my ideals? Will I be able to find me "dream job" that way? Has my dream changed or have I simply realized that I won't achieve it on this career path? My core beliefs about humanity and society and the interconnectedness of us all remain the same and have deepened through my Buddhist practice.  I believe that there doesn't need to be a split between your beliefs, the way you lie your life and your job.  Nor should there be.  We spend most of our waking hours at a job – the bulk
of our lives, in fact (does that depress you? if so, maybe you should consider a career change as well!)  So, it better be for more than a good health insurance plan and a pension.
This all came to a head sometime last year.  We sometimes receive blast emails throughout my state agency.  Sometimes they are announcements about high level changes in leadership, an event coming up, or the latest round of pay cuts and health insurance premium increases while thanking us for our continued hard work.  Every once in a while we get an email about a person that has died – usually someone higher up in the agency whom most staff (we have thousands of employees spread throughout the state) would at least know by name.  Last spring, we received an email about a woman that had died.  She was not a high level staff person, just a low level staffer, but she had been with the agency for 30 years.  The email announced the regret of her passing, talked briefly about the job title she worked in, and then stated that she had "passed away at her desk after 30 years of service."  Wow.  Several of us were taken aback by this blast email announcement.  A couple of us reacted with incredulity followed swiftly by depression.  To die as a civil servant at your desk in a cubical after
30 years.  The Thoreau line almost immediately cropped up in my mind's eye: Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.  Maybe (although doubtful), it was her dream to die at her desk performing what she considered to be an important civic duty.  Sounds a bit of a stretch, but maybe.  And maybe she had done other far more gratifying things with her life
and was happy the way it had all turned out.  Maybe.  But for me, that embodied exactly what I don't want to happen.  I can think of nothing more sad and depressing then dying at my desk at a government job.  That moment, I decided it was time to take some real steps toward my goal of working in a field I was passionate about and that I knew would have a direct
impact on many people's lives – becoming a labor and postpartum doula and childbirth educator.
I have spent a lot of time wallowing in regret over my law school education (and an ill-fated year of master's work that proceeded it) because it left me with student loans that are simply unpayable
in my lifetime and act as a yoke around my neck.  I have spent and continue to spend a lot of time talking with DH – can we do this? Can I stop being a lawyer and instead follow my passion? From a financial standpoint, it's daunting.  Since we've had Tiger and have to pay for childcare, we are barely
making it every month as it is.  There is another quote though, from my teacher and guru, Sakyong
Mipham Rinpoche that is applicable here: Warriorship means that when
there are obstacles, we do not back off .  At some point, I just decided to change my perspective.  Not only can I do this, I will.  It will mean a lot of sacrifice and it is scary, but it is too important.  This is my life, after all, and I only get one shot at it - this go round, anyway.  It would mean ditching the stable job, the benefits, the pension plan.  It would mean perhaps way less money in a college fund for Tiger.  But, I talked to DH about this – what kind of role models do we want to be for our son? Do we want to show him that you stuff your dreams inside and decide they're just that, dreams, and instead work a 9-5 that is soul crushing just to make sure you have stability? Is that what life is all about?
I watched my loving parents work like dogs at "9-5" (more like 8-7) jobs their whole adult
lives until they recently were able to retire.  Just struggling to get by and keep a roof over our head and food in our bellies, but hating it.  Just frustrated and mad and underpaid and underappreciated when it came to their jobs.  And we saw them, well, not as often as we all would have liked.  They worked long hours, they had long commutes.  My brother and I learned to cook dinner and do chores early on.  We were "latch key" kids, like my kid and so many kids are.  It didn't totally ruin us, it was fine.  But, I swore I would never do that – I would never work a boring job I didn't like just to get by.  And yet, at almost 35 years of age, I am doing just that.  Sure, your priorities change.  You get married, you have kids, you rack up way too much debt, everyone tells you you need to have a pension plan, a college plan, a stable job.  And for some people, that's enough.  Or they say it's enough.  But, if I'm honest, it's not enough for me.  I have to think about what lessons I will pass onto my son.  And I
truly believe, he'll forgive me if he doesn't have a great college plan as long as he saw me doing what I wanted to do – taking a risk and following my passions.  And the people that will come in and out
of his life due to this career change are wonderful, amazing people.  It will change his life too.  After all, I would not have gotten on this path if it weren't for my experience in giving birth to him.  He
gave me this gift and I will not squander it.
What about retirement? By the time I make the switch and leave my 9-5 law job behind (which is still some years off), I'll have 10+ years into the retirement system and I'll keep saving.  It won't allow me to retire at 55 or even 65 or maybe ever fully, but if I'm working at a job I really love, I won't need to retire from it in the way I would need to from the current career path I'm on in order to really start living my life.  I don't want to start living until I'm 65 years old. Who knows? I may not make it that long! 
So, since I'm still working, I'm sinking money into getting the training and certifications I need to in order to make this switch by the time I'm in my early 40's.  I'm taking on clients when I have the chance.  I'm learning how to start a business.  I've got business cards and I'm distributing them and finding other ways to market myself.  I'm working on two certifications at once to increase the
scope of the services I can provide.  DH is admittedly scared but very supportive.  We envision a different life for us and our family.  He has aspirations as well.  We will downsize and cut expenses. Somehow it will work.  We'll cover my loans and our bills.  We'll make sure to
keep our life insurance current so Tiger won't be stuck with our student loans.  Tiger will enter school in a few years and when we have a second baby, that one will hopefully not be too far behind him.  We'll have more time with our kids, more time together.  I keep saying it like a mantra: Somehow it will work.  It's all about courage and perspective and the aspiration.  It's the belief in the basic goodness that drives me.  I will not die at my desk.  I may die by the side of a woman giving birth or at home with my family, but I won't die with my song still in me.  I will spend this next part of my life singing and that will be my legacy to my children.
What is your song? Have you listened to it lately? What can you do to
pay it heed?