We welcomed 2020 together today at our beloved Barre3 Old Town. It is a crazy thing to casually stroll into a fitness studio, with scores of other resolution setting well-intenders and the man you love, and you almost lost. Like many other 40-somethings, we’re not as fit as we’d like to be today, and we aren’t living a life that looks like we imagined. We’re ALIVE though, and right where we need to be right now. 

There’s a consistency to a Barre3 class that you settle into after joining class for a few weeks. Every class starts with the same opening breaths, a series of active poses and probably more toe taps than your thighs appreciate. There’s also usually at least one section where the community is united by the beat in alternating a lengthening crescent lunge with a deep carousel horse. In crescent, your arms reach up and forward and your gaze follows. When your rear knee drops toward the floor for a carousel, you’ll glide your arms back as well, and my gaze tends to follow. Today those mindful glances to sky and earth resonated with me to a depth that almost brought me to tears. I repeated this flow in body and spirit, from reach to sky to my humble bow to earth over and over and over. That has been my mindset of gratitude for the last several months.

I’m thankful for the abstract of sky where things can’t be measured in PT notes, pharmacist records, bank accounts or blood screenings:

• We have felt continued prayers from churches of every denomination, and friends with no denomination at all. That love and energy explains the recovery and growth that makes no medical sense.

• There are still huge unknowns in our life like when Eric will be able to return to work, if he will drive again, where we will find affordable permanent housing and schooling decisions for the younger girls which hang above us calling for answers but are thankfully managed for now with patience.

• There is a slow and unseen healing of the brain which is giving us back family read alouds, shared laughs and easier conversation. That slow healing means frustrations as we all get used to who Eric is now, and how we will reconnect, and reinvent ourselves around these differences.

• We each have counselors to work through where we are now and where we want to be with new challenges and new hopes for where this experience will take us.

• The girls have each grown in school and shown resilience we never imagined possible. They are learning to be a little quieter, a little more patient and a little more cautious. These aren’t bad lessons, but they are challenging and at times it gets the best of us all.

Next, I look to the ground and give appreciation for the more solid, tangible gifts we have:

• Eric’s surgical scars are faint and he has NO MORE PAIN. He still takes a cocktail of meds twice a day, but he is off everything for pain. The prescriptions now are to manage his blood clotting, heart rate, sleep and neurological issues. 

• His broken leg has healed and he is able to walk, climb stairs and is working on therapy exercises at home to increase endurance and continue to regain strength in his core, shoulder, arm, and leg. We are currently looking for a doctor to manage this fine-tuning, and the holistic connections between brain and body health. 

• Our tiny two-bedroom apartment, made possible by a wonderful Fairfax county affordable housing program, is at the center of almost everything we need and has proven to be a safe, convenient and (usually) happy nest to recover as a family. We lack a yard and a space for Lindy when she is home from college, but we are close to doctors, shopping and the daily walks around the plaza together are the best way to squeeze in PT.

• We survived the flu--a very serious threat to Eric since his spleen was removed, and his body is still weakened. While the body recovers from a virus, brain healing seems to take a back seat, so mental fatigue lingered and we had some setbacks, but his healing continues.

• We appreciate just how vital those first few months of outstanding medical intervention and care were. They built a foundation upon which we are now growing. I can’t begin to imagine where we’d be if Eric hadn’t been med-vac’ed to INOVA-Fairfax Hospital, and ability to be transferred to the unbelievable team at Shirley Ryan Ability Lab. The work we are doing now is what will eventually give Eric his full life back, and every resource counts.

It is tough to describe to people what life is like now. It is not easy. Eric’s recovery from his strokes and traumatic brain injury is slow and unseen work. We are tempted to set those big Instagrammable goals, like New Year’s resolutions, for an outcome that looks slim, strong, picturesque and enviable. We want those outcomes to happen on a neat 30-60 day timeline. 

In truth though, we are simply taking small steps towards rejoining our community with the strength to take on new challenges: I am braving night driving, bill paying and trips to the storage unit, Eric will take an online class to practice typing and organization of data, use tension bands to blast his quads, and take every supplement and nutrient-rich juice shot and grain bowl I hand him. The girls will make new friends, brave new activities and learn to capsule wardrobe to maximize shared closets. 

We have found tastes of consistency that allow us to make progress as we sink into the rhythm of our new life. 2020, like the safe space of our Barre3 classes, will be about “progress not perfection,” and we are ready for it.

And in closing, we all want to say thank you for all your support - financial, emotional, spiritual, meals, air miles, care for the girls/pets/Eric/me…  We are so grateful and couldn't have made it through this year without you.