Beginnings
Please let me tell you why I chronicling my healing journey as a heart mom in the garden. The story begins in 2014.
My husband and I found out that we were expecting our first child just a few days before we moved into our first house. The possibilities were enormous. Our previous home - a one bedroom finished condo - was nothing compared to this four bedroom family home on a flat, quarter acre lot. We had no furniture. A TV perched on a still-packed cardboard box and an air mattress were our only living room furnishings for the first few months. In the front yard were gorgeous flower beds, but they were to be neglected for a while. I had no gardening experience, and had swiftly killed every houseplant I had ever owned. Meanwhile, the interior of the home needed some work. A full time job and some morning sickness took up the rest of my energy. Plus there was a baby to prepare for! Life was blissfully busy.
Right around the first day of Spring 2015, we welcomed our baby boy, Gabe. As far as we knew, he was a perfect infant. He could even hold up his own head before we left the hospital. What a rock star! His strength and resilience would be blessings for the challenges we were about to face.
Shortly after we took him home, we learned that Gabe had complex congenital heart disease. He would need open heart surgeries, and life long follow up and care. Furthermore, some of the biggest hazards for our colicky babe were excessive crying and the common cold. Needless to say, the garden took a back seat to the extra care Gabe required. I think I watered the roses once or twice, and gave them a shot of Miracle Gro, and that was it.
Even after the surgical recovery period was complete in late 2015, my boy carried his hospital acquired emotional trauma everywhere like a ratty blanket. I carried mine, as well, composed of risk factors, statistics, and new medical vocabulary. By the time I made it out into my yard to do some much needed work, it was June of 2016, almost exactly two years since we bought the house. The dandelions and turf were lush and thick. On the other hand, the roses were almost entirely defoliated. I stood awkwardly in the shadow of the monstrous task ahead of me, pondering my options. The obvious choice was to start removing weeds, so I grabbed a trowel and some gloves and got to work.
The repetitive task of yanking thousands of tap roots out of the soil was meditative. Outside, in the fresh air, my soul began to heal. Anger and pain began to fade away. The garden was the sanctuary I so desperately needed to heal my soul and my heart. Nine months have passed since I began. I am hooked. There is no going back.
The roses survived, by the way. All thirteen of them. When I look to these plants for strength, they always echo back. "We are resilient. We can do hard things. We can heal. And even in the most weathering times, we hold incredible potential to be unlocked by a little love and care." Each bloom is a reminder and a dare to give myself enough sunshine to thrive.
By mid summer 2016, the Echo Garden looked pretty decent "all things considered." This season, I hope to drop the qualifier.
The large yellow blooms are marigolds, as these photos were taken after the great dandelion purge of 2016.
This blog will follow my progress as a newbie gardener and a heart mom. While I will journal the lessons as I learn them, this is not a professional advice page. A few months of experience does not make a master. However, I hope that you do find something that enriches your life on here. At the very least, there should be some nice rose photos later in the season.
My husband and I found out that we were expecting our first child just a few days before we moved into our first house. The possibilities were enormous. Our previous home - a one bedroom finished condo - was nothing compared to this four bedroom family home on a flat, quarter acre lot. We had no furniture. A TV perched on a still-packed cardboard box and an air mattress were our only living room furnishings for the first few months. In the front yard were gorgeous flower beds, but they were to be neglected for a while. I had no gardening experience, and had swiftly killed every houseplant I had ever owned. Meanwhile, the interior of the home needed some work. A full time job and some morning sickness took up the rest of my energy. Plus there was a baby to prepare for! Life was blissfully busy.
Right around the first day of Spring 2015, we welcomed our baby boy, Gabe. As far as we knew, he was a perfect infant. He could even hold up his own head before we left the hospital. What a rock star! His strength and resilience would be blessings for the challenges we were about to face.
Shortly after we took him home, we learned that Gabe had complex congenital heart disease. He would need open heart surgeries, and life long follow up and care. Furthermore, some of the biggest hazards for our colicky babe were excessive crying and the common cold. Needless to say, the garden took a back seat to the extra care Gabe required. I think I watered the roses once or twice, and gave them a shot of Miracle Gro, and that was it.
Even after the surgical recovery period was complete in late 2015, my boy carried his hospital acquired emotional trauma everywhere like a ratty blanket. I carried mine, as well, composed of risk factors, statistics, and new medical vocabulary. By the time I made it out into my yard to do some much needed work, it was June of 2016, almost exactly two years since we bought the house. The dandelions and turf were lush and thick. On the other hand, the roses were almost entirely defoliated. I stood awkwardly in the shadow of the monstrous task ahead of me, pondering my options. The obvious choice was to start removing weeds, so I grabbed a trowel and some gloves and got to work.
The repetitive task of yanking thousands of tap roots out of the soil was meditative. Outside, in the fresh air, my soul began to heal. Anger and pain began to fade away. The garden was the sanctuary I so desperately needed to heal my soul and my heart. Nine months have passed since I began. I am hooked. There is no going back.
The roses survived, by the way. All thirteen of them. When I look to these plants for strength, they always echo back. "We are resilient. We can do hard things. We can heal. And even in the most weathering times, we hold incredible potential to be unlocked by a little love and care." Each bloom is a reminder and a dare to give myself enough sunshine to thrive.
By mid summer 2016, the Echo Garden looked pretty decent "all things considered." This season, I hope to drop the qualifier.
This blog will follow my progress as a newbie gardener and a heart mom. While I will journal the lessons as I learn them, this is not a professional advice page. A few months of experience does not make a master. However, I hope that you do find something that enriches your life on here. At the very least, there should be some nice rose photos later in the season.
Comments
Post a Comment