A few weeks ago, my best friend made the announcement that her little one – due in August – has Down Syndrome, by ordering matching shirts for the whole family and posting a photo. I immediately ordered one.

I was so excited when it came that I had to take my first selfie. Perhaps the next time you see my scary shirt (roar!), this sweet, new baby will be in my arms.
dinosaurs are scaryShe’s being named for me. Her middle name is Christine. (In truth, she’s named for all of her mother’s best friends. She somehow amassed a cadre of Christies! Christa, Christina, Christian, and me.) (But Baby Farrah is named for me. πŸ˜‰ )

A couple of months ago, I posted here about an answer to prayer. This news took me to my knees. I hadn’t understood that Down Syndrome can come with a cluster of health problems, so I prayed for the little one’s heart and strength.

Something remarkable happened immediately upon rising from that prayer, and I knew the angels were with me, confirming that all was well. It took another couple of weeks for the fetal echocardiogram, but I knew that baby was okay. Or if not, no matter what challenges came with her syndrome, they would be surmountable. The calm and comfort from that prayer was undeniable. I knew our baby was okay.

She’s perfect! She’s everything she’s supposed to be. And we get to spend our lives with her! I’m amazed! I’m flabbergasted.

Why should I be so lucky? I get to spend the rest of my life with PURE LOVE? Why should I be graced by this beautiful person, “the one true human,” we’re calling her? Why, how, am I so lucky?

I, especially, feel blessed, because when Jax and I were trying briefly to have a baby, I knew that I wasn’t equipped to be the mother of a special needs child. I was taking a chance, entering the possibility of a high risk pregnancy, becoming an “ol’ lady mama,” and I prayed. I told the angels, “My skill set makes me capable of being a great mom to a child with no immediate and life-altering special needs. Send me a healthy baby. That’s what I can do.”

I couldn’t do the heartbreaking and difficult work of mothering a child with special needs, but my friend can. She’s a wonderful mother! I’ve told her so many times over the years that she’s helped me re-mother my inner child. AND she has a home, not a rental, a partner she gets along with (and makes home home with), and an entire extended family all within walking distance (plus in-laws who visit and take care all the time). She’s not alone, she’s supported, she’s done this a time or 2. She’s ready. She’s the best mother!

This baby is a blessing that I get for FREE! Why? Why me? I’m overwhelmed.

We love her so much!


Proceeds from T-shirt sales fund Down Syndrome research. πŸ™‚

Facebook Flashback

This popped up in my newsfeed today and sparked a fun memory from 2010 that I shared on Facebook, that I wanted to jot down here real quick to sort of bookmark my feelings right now, that I don’t have time to right about. (Phew!) I’ll try to get right on it so I don’t lose the mojo, but for now suffice to say… FESTIVAL MAGIC!!!!!

Oh my gosh, I’m buzzing! I haven’t been to a festival in 2 years and Building Man was a new one for me. It was one of the best, most magical festivals I have ever been to!Β More on that later (hopefully).

Til ‘then, here’s a happy little nugget from my history with Marko, my magic festival man that I met 10 years ago at Burning Man, the artist who changed my life and continues to prove himself as one of my very favorite people, ever, for my whole life, period. πŸ˜‰

marko and me

Mexico with My Man Marko!

“Marko,” I scolded him over beers on the beach. “How am I supposed to find my Sugar Daddy when everyone looking at us thinks I already have?”

“Just tell them I’m your spiritual adviser,” he answered. “And tell him you have to have me by your side at all times, so I can get in on the travel, too.”

(That was a good idea. Maybe he is my spiritual adviser!)

I had just finished compiling the stories and content for “Notes from 1969” with Marko, so I took it a step further. (I always do.)

“You’re my spiritual adviser and I’m your personal biographer!”

That was a great trip. I love that man!

(In the photo, I have no eyebrows. I had just had a bad bout of trichotillomania. I don’t remember it, but through my life I can see a picture and tell you, “Oh. I had trichotillomania right around that time.” This was a bad one, above. I probably had big, missing chunks of eyelashes, too. Trichotillomania is so weird. I have a friend who has it so bad she creates enormous bald spots on her scalp and has to wear wigs! I’ve only ever pulled out my eyelashes and eyebrows, but that’s weird enough. It’s a nervous condition/ impulse control disorder kind of thing. It’s on a spectrum – My case is pretty mild compared to my friend, for example – and there’s a lot of shame associated with it. There are some celebrities that are open about it. Google it.)


Viva Mexico!