bekah brunstetter
Bekah Brunstetter I care deeply. About a lot of things. Like really, really deep. Ow
playwright in brooklyn, NY

Crying while Talking

May 16th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

I AM FINE, I am moving, as they say, THROUGH the pain, never under or under, but — I’ve been doing a fair amount of Crying lately, a lot of it while Talking, and I HAVE SOME NOTES FOR MYSELF. When I try and talk while crying, my voice gets really high like a cartoon bell, like it’s being sucked back into my throat while I try and push the words out. The sadder the words make me, the higher my voice gets, and the further it disappears up my throat and out my ears, a raspy gummy bear begging not to be eaten. I want to cry while talking like they do on the TV.  Strong, composed, steady, a solid and controlled voice, with tears coming rhythmically one, two, three. I want to speak in full sentences while crying, I want to say profound things while crying, I want to win the SAG award for Crying While Talking, I want to keep talking through all of these tears.

Posted in a lot, the future, the making of babies, the worst, whining, women, words, YAY | No Comments »

Color Therapy (?)

May 13th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

My shirt is yellow, THEREFORE,  I will have a good day and a positive outlook and my dreams will come true and the worst case scenarios will only play out in my mind and fertile unicorns will shit rainbows of optimism and fresh babies on my head (?)/ GOOD THING I AM NOT WEARING BLACK (?)

Posted in a lot, optimism, sucking, the future, the making of babies, the worst, what i am NOT wearing, what I'm wearing, whining | No Comments »

Path to Healing

May 9th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

I can’t meditate for more than 3 minutes without getting distracted, and the few times I’ve done acupuncture I’ve just laid there watching the clock and wondering things like ‘Am I healing? Is it happening? What’re we doing right now?’  and last night after my D&C I had an entire bag of Haribo gummies and ice cream for dinner.  I am no Earth Mother or Mother of the Earth, I am not Zen or Chill, but RIGHT NOW I WILL USE THE WORDS ‘PATH TO HEALING,’ and boldly declare that going wide with our fertility struggles has comforted me beyond my greatest expectations. Last night, Haribo gummy cherries hanging out of my mouth, I read hundreds of messages received from friends and strangers, bold and honest messages about fertility struggles and successes. AND IT HAS GIVEN ME LIFE. Thank you to all who share and continue to share. Here was mine:

Last weekend, we had our second miscarriage. I know I’m supposed to tuck this away, share with just close family and friends, compartmentalize and get back to work, which I’ve done before. But this time, I’m sharing here to challenge any and all notions that getting pregnant is CHARMING AND ADORABLE AND JOYFUL AND WHIMSICAL, and only these. For us, and for so many other women and couples, it has been a nightmare. It’s long and stressful and expensive and painful and terrifying. I’ve met parts of myself I never knew, gross bits of rage and frustration and jealousy and sadness. My hope and faith have withered. But I’ve also been so moved by the women who have opened up to me about the absurdity and sometimes hilarity of their own losses and journeys. And I want to do anything I can to help remove any of guilt and shame that comes with this horrible yet INCREDIBLY REGULAR thing / 20 PERCENT OF PREGNANCIES END IN MISCARRIAGE / GRIEVING PEOPLE ARE ALL AROUND YOU / HI, I AM ONE OF THEM. I also share this here because I’m longing for any personal stories, things like I had five miscarriages and now my toddler keeps grabbing my phone out of my hand! And / or my uterus is made of construction paper and now it’s full of twins! Or even, I am going through this fucking bullshit too, would you like to get together and throw bottles of wine against a wall? Feel free to DM me. I’m grateful for anything anyone feels like sharing, but mostly grateful for Morrison, who is the most completely amazing partner that has ever lived.

Posted in a dream is a wish your heart makes, a lot, babies, sucking, the future, the making of babies, the whole world, the worst, wanting, what my friends are doing, women, words, worrying | No Comments »

Have you been taking your Prenatal Vitamins

March 28th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

Kind, well, intentioned doctor: So, have you been taking your Prenatal Vitamins?

Me: Are you serious?

Doctor:….Yes?

(A TRAGIC, TRIUMPHANT SONG OF LES MISERABLES PROPORTIONS BEGINS. I stand on the table, wearing nothing but paper. I start to sing.)

Me:

YES

I HAVE BEEN TAKING THEM FOR YEARS

MADAM, I AM A PRENATAL VITAMIN

I BLEED FISH OIL AND FOLIC ACID!

MADAM, I TAKE THEM DAILY, BLINDLY, MERCILESSLY, 

SOMETIMES I JUST EAT THEM AS SNACKSSSSSSSS!!!!

(Calmly, I sit back down on the table.)

Doctor: Okay, well. Keep on taking them.

Me: WILL DO.

 

Posted in a lot, food, generally, ha, hmmmmm, the making of babies, whining, women | No Comments »

Why to have Amazon

March 8th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

 

Maybe it was the tiniest bit hard being around my super fertile lady cousins a few weekends ago, I’m all nervous uterus and declining ovarian reserve, while they are all mom goddesses with flowing hair and regular ovulation. But thankfully for all of us, we all have miraculous senses of humor and openness and a desire to include each other in our lives, and other beautiful sentiments that justify WHY THIS TURKEY BASTER SHOWED UP AT MY HOUSE YESTERDAY, courtesy of my cousin Persie:

THANK YOU COUSINS. GRATEFUL THAT I / WE CAN LAUGH AT THIS.

Posted in family, ha, i am lucky, the making of babies | No Comments »

Why I’m Tired

February 2nd, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

I hate it when people are like, I’m so busy and tired, here’s why I’m so busy and tired, and yet, I feel compelled to document the absurdity that was January. And so I’ve gathered these facts, for my own amusement, and maybe yours:

January 4th, my last This is Us episode started pre-production.

Jan 6th, The Cake started rehearsal in NYC.

January 10th-11th, the This is Us writers went to Vegas where I ate all of the tequila and the hotel moaned all night like it was crying, preventing any sort of sleep.

January 12th, I (with consistent help from Morrison, who managed to turn it into a weird game) started shooting myself up with hormones twice a day, in hopes of harvesting some eggs / making us some embryos at the end of the month.

January 15th my episode started filming. I gave myself shots each morning and night, worked 12 hour days, grew increasingly tired and perhaps emotional, but perhaps maybe it’s normal to sob when you pass teachers protesting in the rain? I stole naps when I could. I tried to focus. I humbly ate from whatever trough of mashed potatoes was provided between scenes.

January 21st my episode wrapped.

January 22-27 I spent each day at the doctor, getting bloodwork and ‘wandwork,’ if you will, increasing hormone dosages, crying at fingernails, drinking whole grain goldfish crackers like vitamin water.

January 28th I went under, eggs came out (TO GREAT SUCCESS / MORE ON THAT LATER.)

Jan 29th I flew to NYC with IV tape gum still pulling at my arm hairs to check in with The Cake, watched three days of run-throughs, gave notes,  continued to try and understand and communicate my play, saw some shows, saw some favorite people, ate meatloaf alone, had some meetings about some potentially very exciting new things. Last night, I got to the airport, found an empty outlet, dropped my things, collapsed onto a weird stool and just sat there, and realized, that I was exhausted.

And just for a moment I wondered, Why?

REALLY BEKAH? REALLY? WHY?

And then I realized that I was so tired because my dreams are coming true, sort of slowly and immediately at the same time.  And then I realized that when dreams come true, it’s exhausting. And then I decided: if you’re not careful, you’ll actually  miss your own dreams coming true. You’ll confuse them with fatigue. Then I decided to forever try and associate Tired with dreams coming true. Except of course when I am actually, really just tired, in which case, I will just GO TO SLEEP. GNIGHT, SEE YOU IN MARCH

Posted in a lot, babies, hmmmmm, how interesting, i am a grown up, i am lucky, lies, life, love, MAWWAGE., the future, the making of babies, the writing of drama plays, theater, things | No Comments »

6, scared of 7

December 14th, 2018 by Bekah Brunstetter

Today, on I CAN CONTROL THE FUTURE WITH MY FEELINGS: For whatever reason, 36 feels like a safe, good, young age to me. There’s a roundness to it, a lightness, a youth. But then I think about turning 37 next year, and it has a danger, a sharpness, an oldness. 38 feels round again, safe and young again, but in an old way. 39 feels like a cliff, 40 like campground at high elevation with built in firepits,  a stunning view. Even, odd. I now know that I will turn 37 and not yet be a mom (tho perhaps in growth stage?)  I keep fixating on that number and punishing myself for it. I also keep fixating on the ages of women younger than me, who already have their kids / are currently growing them, and I keep feeling behind, like I’m supposed to be ahead but not, which is another way to say behind, which I already said, because I feel it to the point of repetition. And so, I’ll remind myself here:

Things that are NOT competitions:

  • who breathes the most per minute
  • who grows their hair the fastest
  • Having Kids

Things that ARE competitions:

  • Races
  • The Great British Baking show
  • Competitions

 

 

 

 

Posted in a lot, family, ha, hmmmmm, how interesting, i am a grown up, love, MAWWAGE., the making of babies, Uncategorized | No Comments »