rebekahrosler

I’ve been in my head a lot these past few months. So much to think about. The past, the present, the future. My story. Everyone’s story. What the history books will say about this shocking moment in time.

For me, it all began in 2019.

Started the year off with hopes and dreams. By the summer the first business I had ever poured my heart and soul into came to a disappointing and shocking demise. My grandmother got sick during that same period, and I lost them both. I rung in my 40th year a little darker than usual.

Then my best friend, my last grandmother got sick, and I lost her too. My heart was broken in 2019, I had to believe 2020 could only be better – it couldn’t be any worse.

I had started a new business, a practice to support women. I had expectations that I could use my skills and innate desire to help people to change lives.

2019 turned into 2020 and my 20 year old cat, on Harper’s birthday woke up the morning of her party – and didn’t return from the vet. I lost yet another piece of my heart. I thought 2019 would contain all the pain. I needed something. I needed a light. A ray of sunshine. So in March Nathan and I took our first vacation – after three kids in two years – since our Honeymoon in 2014. We had happiness in our hearts and were so excited to be able to spend time together just the two of us. And it was wonderful. And beautiful. And perfect. Then we returned home on March 10.

Then March 13 hit. And nothing has looked the same, and nothing ever will.

We left our apartment with the clothes on our back, not knowing we wouldn’t return. We were incredibly lucky to have a home with a yard and pool to escape to, while we waited for life to happen. During this time I had to close the doors to my second business and become a Stay at home mom. Nothing I intended – or expected – to be.

This post is not intended to be a woe-is-me commentary. We all have our stories. We all have our sagas. This post was actually a reminder for myself. That even during our darkest days. Even during the toughest times, life is beautiful.

This morning at 4:30am we were woken up by a parade of children. Harper pooped and needed us to wipe. Even through sniffles and cries when we forced them back in their bed explaining it was actually still bed time – Harper wished me a Happy Birthday.

As exhausted as these children make me. As overwhelmed as I am with life right now. As unsure of what the future looks like. As broken hearted as I still am that I can’t share all of this with my beloved Grandmothers, I still can’t believe how lucky and blessed l am.

I waited until 33 to meet the love of my life. And I did. And he is. And how lucky I am to be stuck at home with him, the perfect partner, a wonderful father, during this time.

Though I wanted no children. Then only one. Then three, how lucky are we that they have each other to learn from, play with, share this experience together.

No life isn’t perfect right now. Quite the contrary. The west coast is burning. Lives are in danger. Animals have no homes. Minorities are living in fear. Our country is in shambles.

It’s all too much to consume. It’s all too much for the world.

But today, on my birthday, even though we’ve been awake since 4:30, even though we’re living in limbo, even though life is not what we planned – I am so grateful for each day. For the family I created, the family I was born into. The friends I’ve collected. The life I’ve built. The business I’ve built. The people I’ve loved and lost. I welcome 41 confused, uncertain, overwhelmed, exhausted but living with deep solid gratitude.

Thank you for all the love today.

There are so many words.

And moments.

There is so much confusion.

And clarity.

There’s so much I want to express, yet wonder if silence would speak louder.

These months.

These weeks.

These days.

So much has happened, and yet, nothing really has.

I have been overcome with emotion, and the rollercoaster.

I have been lost, and yet found.

I have been present, and removed.

I have cried, and rejoiced.

I have questioned, learned, connected and disconnected.

This period – in all its nothingness – has brought with it such deep meaning and opportunity.

I have been a willing participant while also a silent passerby.

I have seen others rise behind screens, and in the streets. Using their voice for good and evil. Deciding how best to use mine. I’m still unsure.

I have determined my own worth and lack there of.

I wonder daily, what if and when.

I’m intentionally consuming – while also distancing.

I’ve been shown the light, while waiting in the darkness.

I’m partially lost, while seemingly found.

I’m questioning and dreaming, pondering and growing.

I’m pausing while reimagining.

So much is confining.

But does it have to be?

I wonder.

Can we use this time for greatness?

Purpose?

A rebirth?

Can I?

I need to sit a little longer.

But I feel something exceptional, beyond words, on the horizon.

It may just be a sunrise or sunset.

But that in itself is a miracle.

I will wait. I can sense it will be worth it.

I’m trying to put into words the emotions I’m feeling. I’m trying to process what I’m in my head about. I’m trying to figure it all out – when it’s actually impossible to do just that.

A total stranger was an aggressor, threatened and attacked me all because she didn’t like the result that was handed down in an FB group I run. She broke the rules and suffered the consequences – as every person before her did.

She started messaging me while I was doing my children’s bed time. Incessantly my watch was buzzing with more messages. It was the end of a long day. I wanted to relax. But picked up the phone to try to mitigate the situation – though my gut said leave this till morning. Regrettably it escalated to a level of epic proportions. She sent incomprehensible paragraphs – then gave me an ultimatum, reinstate her or her lawyers will sue me.

Wait. What?

I was so utterly confused. Had no idea what was going on. Tried to keep my cool. But I was repeatedly attacked and harassed. She told me what an awful person I am. And how my time is done. They’ll be after me. I’m only hurting my own cause.

My entire public platform is being open, honest, sharing, connecting, normalizing and supporting. This woman told me she felt sorry for me. That I’m awful. Crossed the line. And screwed myself. She didn’t stop attacking for close to 40 minutes. And she got in my head. And I couldn’t shake it.

This was shortly after last week when someone a “friend” used my daughters near drowning to condemn me as a mother and the decisions I make.

Now I realize I put myself out there. I’m a virtual public figure in the fertility and mom internet and social media space. Hardly an influencer – but a name people have come to recognize as a connector and supporter. Ultimately this woman clearly has more going on, on her side – and this doesn’t actually have anything to do with me. But it felt very personal. And I take things to heart when there is no ill will intended.

This was all happening when I found out that my parents no longer have a place to stay when they planned to come visit to help me with my kids. So I’ll be alone each day with the kids for a month. It was a whirlwind of emotions.

I know people are so on edge. Terrified for their lives. Their children. Uncertain of what’s next, what to do. People have a lot more time to be on social media. Many are using it for good. But behind the safety of a screen – claws come out, no holds barred – and things have begun getting dirty.

I want to empathize with this poor woman – because it’s clear that she actually needs real help. Her diatribes and rants and threats did not come from a sane clear mind. And though I have thick skin and can take a lot – I’m also very sensitive and get personally affected, truly hurt – when someone hurts me – especially with intention.

I’m trying to wrap my brain around it all right now. I want to let it go. And not stay in this icky place. But the way she spoke to me was actually abusive. And hit deep.

I guess I’m just hear to say – words carry with them a lot of weight. And behind the screen it’s very easy to throw them around in a vicious way. We are all so on edge and so vulnerable right now – attacking people who are good, kind and truly whose life goal is to help people – is just abhorrent.

I do feel bad for this woman. Her anger is clearly displaced – but that doesn’t take away from the affect it’s having on me.

I cried this morning in a low grade panic attack. Half assed by bike ride while on an anti anxiety because I desperately needed to not feel and to calm down. Now I poured myself a cup of Baileys while sitting on my hammock in peace. The children are watching Frozen (obviously). Nathan is working. I am getting 30 minutes to myself to process and To write. I realize this will not be one of my most widely read pieces. But I needed to get it out.

I just wonder how we can all recover from this. I see friends in moms groups armed to the teeth. I see lots more snipping at home among married couples. I see anxiety with how to manage our kids for another year like this. Arguments about schools, masks, personal rights versus the collective. It’s all so exhausting. And we all think we know what’s best.

It’s all too much for each of us to handle. I don’t think – for the first time ever – I have a catchy ending.

I think we all just need to be so much more careful in how we treat each other. I’m a little broken now because of a stranger who took her internal struggles out on me. The same thing happened last week with a “friend” who has been projecting and resentful towards me. Perhaps if we can take time to truly look inward to understand what we’re reacting to – how we’re communicating – what our true intention is – maybe we’ll be in a better place.

Also, wear your fucking masks. And above all else. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Get the fuck out and vote.

In the blink of an eye, in the second you sip your coffee, in the moment it takes to turn your head, everything can change.

Most of the time if doesn’t.

But it can.

For the last three months we have taken every single precaution like it was gospel or came directly from the lips of the big guy upstairs. We have done everything – and mostly nothing. We have been so careful. So cautious. I have not left the area we secluded ourselves in – more than 4x in almost 4 months. Yesterday – for the first time – I decided it was time to let our guard down a little. I hadn’t seen – or had any version of interaction with a non-family member – since basically February. Leaving NYC meant we had space for our children – but it meant true isolation. On a whim I invited a friend and her children over. We would continue to follow the rules to a T. Remain vigilant. So nothing would go wrong. But my mental health was craving something more.

The day was lovely.

Friendship feeds the soul.

I felt like I was more than “mom” for a few hours. It was like I found a little piece of myself, my past life, dare I say, normalcy.

We spent time 6ft away on a deck.

6ft away on a hammock.

6ft away in the yard.

And 6ft away at the pool.

We are always overly careful around the pool. You have to be.

You hear too many horror stories.

At our house the rule is no pool area without swimmies.

Nathan has been sitting at his computer since 1pm last Sunday. I have been with my children virtually alone since then. And it has been taking its toll more I was aware.

So when I was able to breathe a little, I did.

We have five children between us.

There was a lot of action.

A lot of doling out snacks.

A lot of jumping in the pool.

A lot of smiles and laughter.

My kids have missed having friends around. It felt beautiful.

We returned to the pool area after a little bouncy house break. Some of them wanted to snack. Some of them wanted to swim. We wanted to be two friends who hadn’t caught up in far too long.

And we did.

And we were in mid conversation. I couldn’t tell you what it was about. What we were doing or saying.

Neither of us quite knows what happened or when.

One second my youngest girl was sitting eating snacks at my feet.

The next my oldest was saying “Marley doesn’t have a swimmy on” and looked in the direction of a penguin float.

And in that moment I couldn’t wrap my mind around what she was saying. Because I was standing and scanning the pool and it didn’t register that what looked very blonde under the water was the top of my daughters head. My friend and I both ran, we were on the opposite end of the pool as my daughter’s lifeless body.

It’s all a blur.

But my friend jumped in – threw herself across the pool. Grabbed my daughter under her arms and lifted her up. All I remember were blue lips, scared eyes and little noises gasping for air. In total shock I scooped my baby girl into my arms. She said “I couldn’t see anyone”. She wasn’t choking. She wasn’t coughing. She was scared, but she was breathing. “I couldn’t see mommy” she said again. I still don’t know how long she was under. It could have been 10 seconds or three minutes. And of course my mind runs through it all.

What if my oldest daughter wasn’t facing that way and didn’t see her?

What if that float was a fraction further and we couldn’t find her?

There were five kids.

Seven swimmies.

It was chaos.

And it was almost the tragedy you read about.

But, it wasn’t.

As a mom I rarely worry about my kids safety. I’m very go with the flow when it comes to what they do.

That said – I am not that way around the pool.

And even still, this happened.

This is not one of my typical pieces, because I’m not in the mindset to joke at the moment. It was the most terrifying moment (though it felt like an eternity) I have ever experienced.

I will be forever endebted to my friend who didn’t think twice while I stood there screaming “holy fuck holy fuck”. And to my oldest who saved her sister that fateful day.

Friends.

Please remain vigilant.

Please make pool rules so strict that you and every single person who comes by knows don’t bend.

I am a big “what-if” er. And I know it’s not helpful, and not productive. But for 24 hours that is literally all my mind would allow.

I spent 4am staring at my child, holding my hand on her body for fear of secondary drowning. I spent all morning cuddling with her and kissing her. I am one of the lucky ones that had a near miss. I know there are far too many who have lived through the “what-ifs” as real life – and a piece of my heart is broken for them, knowing what that felt like.

Hold your loved ones close. Or call those you can’t touch right now. And for kids who can’t swim, make damn sure their swimmies are on before they leave your site and then buy a fucking life vest they can’t easily step in and out of because it all happens in the blink of an eye, so fast you will miss it.