I can tell graduation is near. I enjoyed attending the Nebraska Law end-of-year alumni awards luncheon this afternoon and I’m looking forward to a dinner this evening with the amazing undergraduates in Political Science Intelligence Community Scholars program. I’m a sentimental dork, but indulge me. Each year we support students to the best of our ability. I, with many others, strive to provide opportunities for intellectual growth, real-world practical experiences, and for bonding and engagement with peers (future colleagues, y’all!) for all the students I work with. We can’t spend the time with each individual we wish we could but each year I get to know an amazing group of people – and each year yet another amazing group graduates. They each face successes and struggles in the years following their graduation, but whether they know it or not they’re constantly on my mind. It is truly a joy and privilege to engage in the world by training the legal workforce that supports innovative technology and serves our country.

Original Post February 23, 2016:

Failure does not make me less valuable as a mother, wife, daughter, sister, employee – person. Character is creature of perseverance, not success. Full stop.

I saw a blog a while ago that was aimed at helping women who had “lost themselves to motherhood.” I immediately felt guilty that I didn’t feel that way at all. Am I a horrible mother? I don’t feel “lost to motherhood” at all – does that mean I’m not invested enough in my children? In the wise philosophy of T. Swift I quickly allowed myself to ‘shake it off.’ I know why I haven’t lost myself to motherhood – it’s because I found myself in motherhood. No, I don’t mean to imply that my entire state of being is validated because I’ve had two children – it’s that my children have made me brave enough to be truly comfortable with who I am.

When I came across this post I was standing on the precipice of what can best be described as a really intimidating but entirely administrative task in nature. I started studying for the bar exam back in October in the midst of buying and starting the process of renovating our home – plus you know – the two small children, marathon training, and my full time job. It felt beyond intimidating, but upon reflection I realized my life was never going to feel “slow.” It was time to jump off the side of the pool – for a second time.

I failed the Bar Exam when I took it in February of 2012. I was 6 months pregnant with our first child, uninsured, and utterly broke. My head was not in the clearest place. All of that aside, I tried my hardest. I did. I did the best I could with what I had to work with. Still failed. That feeling sucks. No pretty or poetic words can soften that. It sucked. I was unfamiliar with putting in that amount of work and effort and still failing. Just 30ish hours after receiving news of my failure I went into premature labor. My husband was at his father’s funeral across the country. Everything had fallen apart.

One of my greatest struggles in life has been battling my self-doubt. I wasn’t as smart as my friends, so I tried to be cool. I’m not particularly cool. I made (make) an ass out of myself a lot. If I’m not the smart girl and I’m not the cool girl, who was I? Failing the Bar Exam amplified these feeling to about the 100^th degree, but I’m nothing if not stubborn so onward I marched as a new mom and a law school grad who couldn’t practice law. While I was equal parts humbled and annoyed, with my husband and my family’s support, life turned itself around. That said, not a day has gone by since the moment I didn’t see my name on that Pass List that I haven’t thought about the Bar Exam. I knew I’d have to face that son of a bitch again. I’m too stubborn not to.

I’ve often joked that Max is my Zen master. He is a bundle of feelings and empathy. He is ever present in the moment but often lost to what he is feeling. It’s hard, but damn it’s beautiful. He will touch people, impact them, and guide them. He is my rock in the storm. I started to realize that nothing could ever frighten me more than his premature birth. Touring the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit hours before his birth, without his father by my side, created the biggest feeling I’ve ever felt. I don’t know what to call it exactly, but no other level of fear or intimidation I’ve ever experienced could touch it. He has taught me that overwhelming feelings are hard but beautiful. I need to be present. I need to live presently in my feelings, express them, mourn them, love them, allow them to be a part of me.

If Max is my master of patience and empathy, Eleanor is bravery personified. Both of my births were unmediated, but I fully contend that the first one felt nothing like the second. That amount of pain shouldn’t be allowed to exist on an earthly plain. After a pregnancy that felt like a 9 month long red-wine-hangover, that girl tore out of me, on her whim, in just two hours time. Then she screamed when any non-family member attempted to touch her and immediately set about the task of nursing – which she did rather successfully with really very little guidance or input from me. At a year old her general demeanor is laid back, but make no mistake, her spirit radiates tenacity. She is not to be ignored.

These two little beings came from me and from the man I’ve chosen to spend my life with. If these qualities are a part of them, they must be a part of us, a part of me.

I must face hard feelings, like insecurities about my intelligence and abilities. I must forgive myself for being intimidated. I must be fully present in my fears in order to face them. I must be tenacious in my efforts to better my life. I must not ignore myself.

These lessons are so much bigger than the Bar Exam. Sure, as a test it’s intimidating as hell but I’ve likely blown it way out of proportion in my mind. It’s an exam based in memorization – not a strong point of mine. But with Eleanor’s example and Max’s perspective in hand I tried again.

I don’t know if I passed yet. I suspect it’ll be narrow either way. Either way, I’m proud.

Updated April 11, 2016:

I PASSED! I passed, I passed, I passed.

No way I could’ve pulled it off without my family and without Themis Bar Review. Legit.

I am often asked, “why do you like space stuff so much?” I find this odd for two reasons, (1) liking space “stuff” and science fiction isn’t really all that unique or unusual, and (2) a thriving space industry is part of my career livelihood, so um, duh. All that logic and reasonableness aside, I think the real question people might be asking is “doesn’t it frighten you?” Obviously, I’m taking a leap here, and I invite you to leap with me.

Usually, in a setting that allows for it, after chatting with someone they get right down to it. Space is daunting. Space is scary. It raises all kinds of existential questions that have no real answers and make us – meaning everyone on Earth – feel rather unimportant. So, often, the real question is that: “how can you enjoy that?!”

Let’s dive down that rabbit hole one concern at a time. This has a whole lot more to do with personal philosophy than it does with enjoying aeronautics and cool robots:

Space is daunting:
Yep, and that’s putting it mildly. We are small. So very very very very small. There are two ways to look at this. First, AHHH! OUR LIVES AND PURPOSE ARE MEANINGLESS IN COMPARISON TO THE GREAT EXPANSE OF TIME AND SPACE! Second, my problems aren’t really that big of a deal. I fall into the second category. I find the perspective of being merely a “pale blue dot” (Carl Sagan Shout Out!) rather comforting. Our pain, our strife, our fears are but a small piece in such a bigger puzzle. New beautiful things, endless adventure, endless opportunity is before us.

The expanse of the Universe humbles me.

Seriously, go to that ‘Carl Sagan Shout Out’ link. Makes me cry. Every time.

Space is scary:
Yep, and that’s putting it mildly. It is scary. So very very very very scary. What or who is out there? Are they watching us? Are we alone? Maybe it’s scarier to imagine we really are alone. AHHH! The cycle continues. I find this similar to how I view my spirituality, the unknown is comfort. I find peacefulness in knowing that in all likelihood the answers to all these daunting and scary questions is out of my realm of understanding. The answers may be so big the human mind is simply (currently) unable to even comprehend or conceive of the answers. Isn’t that cool?

A reality that exists beyond our current comprehension? That’s exciting. That’s beautiful. That’s invigorating. That, my friends, is the gift of hope. If we knew all the answers, had every piece of information on lock-down, where do we go from there? For me, the unknown is a place to go to find hope. 

Do we matter?
That’s a personal question. Do we matter in the history of the Universe? I dunno. Does it matter if we matter? Have a cookie.

In Sum
That’s my “why” in regards to the “space question”

…besides the undeniable truth that spaceships and robots are freaking so cool.