Spicy Sister

Happy New Year...

2011-01-15T02:25:00.005-07:00

So, I am just now reluctantly acknowledging that we are two, almost three, full weeks into a new year.

One thing that can unleash incredibly depths of anxiety in me is allowing a major milestone or heck, even a common milestone such as the passing of a year, to go by without stopping to acknowledge it and honor it in some way. I like to have my time to sit with it, soak it in, and gather what meaning I can before sending it on its way.

I haven't had time to do anything close to that for a while now and it is keeping me up at night, so here I am trying to muddle through it all at 2:30 a.m.

I am immediately brought to tears when I think of the year that has passed.

It has been, without a doubt, by far the best year of my entire life. I am sorry to see 2010 come to and end. It has been such a good year to me. To us.

As the year began, our family was blindly feeling our way through the fog that had been months of sleepless nights, my crippling post-partum depression, and multiple stressful events and illnesses. We were just beginning to experience the fruit of the work we had started doing with Zane to help him learn to finally finally finally sleep through the night on his own. As a result, I was also beginning to experience the benefit of getting regular normal stretches of sleep at night. I was beginning to emerge from my depression and like a damp-winged butterfly struggling to free itself from the confines of its cocoon, I was beginning to feel my strength return.

There was much newness and tender tentative hope for the year to come. And oh how those hopes would be met, and then some.

There were so many joyful moments, so many adventures. Trips to the zoo, the museum. Going to parades together. Playing at playgrounds. Farmer's Markets, Hot Springs, Swimming Pools, Splash Parks, Yoga, Music, Storytime. Breakfasts out as a family, happy dinners together as a family. Morning walks, evenings spent in the backyard. House guests, playdates, traveling. The best vacation of our lives that also just happened to be a really simple one. Discovering caves, playing in rivers, going on hikes. Riding on trains, rolling in leaves, sledding in freshly fallen snow. Lots of cooking and laughing and every once in a while stopping to catch our breaths to exclaim to one another that we were having "the best year of our lives".

We soaked up as much as we could get of this year. We grabbed our life and we lived in it fully alive and aware. Maybe in some ways for the first time ever.

I reunited with a precious friend from my teenage years, who has quickly become a staple and a gift in our lives. My husband's sister came to live with us for four months, and taught us how to be a family in bigger and brighter ways. I had the opportunity to support and celebrate my sister as she finally realized her dream of becoming a mother in a bigger way that any of us could have anticipated. We were loved by so many amazing friends some who have walked with us for years, some who are just recently coming into our lives.

I did a lot of hard work in therapy, and found myself free from burdens I had carried for far far too long. We made big decisions together, drunk on our progress and momentum.

One of those big decisions was to move. We spent the last several weeks moving from the home that my husband owned when we married. The first home that was ever truly mine. The home where we learned to be husband and wife, where we struggled through years of trying to conceive a child, the home where we first found out we would be parents, the home where I labored for hours before finally heading to the hospital, the house we brought our son home to, the home he has known all of his two years, the home he took his first steps in, the home where we became a family.

This decision means we have started off 2011 in a new place, both literally and figuratively. We have so much hope for this new place, this new beginning. We made this decision in part to allow us even more of what we loved of the year that has passed. Only time, and effort on our part, will tell if our hopes will be met.

I am someone who prepares for the worst. I hope for the best but can't help but prepare for when things go awry as I am convinced they will. What goes up must come down and all that. After such a good, such a full, such a nourishing and freeing year, it is difficult to hope for more. It feels greedy.

But what choice do I have? So here we go....jumping head first into another year. With simple but big juicy hopes and dreams: to share even more laughter, to welcome friends and family with open arms, to continue to grow, even when it is difficult, and experience greater freedom and joy, to rest, to give generously, to love much, and to live fully and authentically this amazing life we have been given.

I hope the same for each and every one of you.

Happy New Year.

The post I would've written if I could have....

2010-11-19T14:41:00.002-07:00

Sometimes I read something written by another blogger that feels like a page out of my own journal (although better written). This is one of those:

On Being A Good Mother In Spite of It All at Her Bad Mother dot com.

There's more I would like to add...but I am living in a bit of a tornado right now, in the meantime, I would love to hear how it strikes you?

Abundant Joy

2010-10-05T12:46:00.005-06:00

I was walking through the zoo (yes, we spend A LOT of time at the zoo) and thinking about how happy I feel, and really on a deep soulful level have felt for a while now. It feels like this year has been about fully living in and embracing my life and role as mother, and in turn has helped me fully come alive in ways I struggled to before. I feel like these days my default is joy. I spent so many years trying to get here, trying to understand my fear of joy, my reluctance to embrace it....and here I am.

I was trying to deconstruct it in my head, (because of course I was!) looking for all the contributing factors. And there are a lot.

Being a mother has turned out to be the single most rewarding and fulfilling and challenging role and adventure I have ever taken on. It has called me to greater heights and greater depths than I knew I was capable of feeling and enduring. I love being Zane's mom, LOVE it.

There is also the surprising fact that I love being a "stay-at-home-mom", which I really wasn't sure I would. Sure, there are days I am counting each minute till my partner gets home and I can get some down time, but overall? Love it. I love filling our days, our weeks, finding the balance that makes each day enjoyable and nourishing for us both. I love how much I am called to be in the moment and responsive: to my son, my own needs, the seasons, etc...

I also love being a "homemaker", making home a place of peace, nourishment, love, enjoyment, for our family. I find so much purpose in making space for us as a family, in providing for us through shared experiences, healthy delicious meals, time together, a peaceful safe clean house. The more peace I find within, the more peace I want to create without.

And of course, there is the undeniable contribution of therapy. I have seen the same gifted therapist for over a year now and have experienced greater change and greater freedom within than I have in any other therapeutic relationship or experience. I entered therapy with a few goals, one of them being the freedom to truly enjoy and embrace this incredible life I am so lucky to be living. I can say without a doubt, we have been greatly successful in this.

My therapist and I are in the process of assessing where we go from here....we are kind of in a place right now where it makes sense for me to stop seeing her so often, at least for a while. And this has me nervous. Without that place, that relationship, held out for me, consistently to come and find myself within, will I get lost? Will I forget this joy? It's scary. I know I can always go back. I know there WILL be more stuff, more cobwebs that need clearing, more wounds that need healing, more patterns that need undoing. I know that in all likelihood this is just a "break", not a "break-up". But still, it scares me.

So, today, when I walked through the zoo, pondering all these things, thinking about how happy I am and have been, how almost every day there is at least one moment when I want to pinch myself to make sure this is really MY life, I am really here (because, happiness has not always come so easily to me), it was a sweet little gift to look down at the base of the statue of mama and baby hippo that Z loves climbing on at the zoo and see the words "Abundant Joy".

I was reminded of all the reasons I have to be joyful in my life and how many of them are within me, deeper than circumstances, deeper than fear.

I hold abundant joy within me.

There will be struggles, there will be darkness, life will be hard at times. But I know now that this capacity for abundant joy is within me. I may need help from time to time to access it, but it is a part of me now that cannot be taken away. And I never ever thought I would say that.

And here is one of the greatest reminders of joy I know of:

One of THOSE days

2010-09-09T21:29:00.005-06:00

Today was one of those days. You know the ones: you are staring at the clock willing each hour to pass a little more quickly, you are just lying down to rest when your child wakes up an hour early from his nap, you look for something to fill the two hours before dinner that will require as little energy from you as possible, but will hopefully wear out your overtired little one and make bed time a little smoother tonight.

We've been sick around these parts with a deep hacking cough that is persistent for weeks. I have made immune-ass-kicking-homemade chicken soup to fortify us all, and yesterday picked up a few herbal remedies and vitamins we were out of and a couple essential oils for chest rubs and steams and baths. Z and Mr. Spicy are responding well, but I am still in the trenches.

It doesn't help that Z getting sick means he has only slept solidly through the night maybe once in the last week, and is now taking 1-2 hr naps instead of the 3 hour naps I was getting so comfy with. It also doesn't help that his molars are planning to present themselves soon and he has recently been experiencing a bit of separation anxiety.

It also doesn't help that we recently lost our beloved dog, had house guests for the weekend, and had my sister-in-law, who has been living with us and greatly brightening our lives and our home for the last 4 months, move out into her own place.

I am beat.

So, this morning, when the power suddenly went out, I jumped on my husband's suggestion that Z & I go out to breakfast at one of our favorite spots, choosing not to inform him that I could make a perfectly healthy breakfast for us both without any power. And breakfast was delightful. We people-watched, we colored, we fed each other delicious gluten-free pancakes. But by the end I was exhausted and just wanted to go home and curl up in bed.

Mercifully, Z fell asleep on the way home, stayed asleep through diaper changing, and went down for a nap. Ah! Rest for me! But wait....what is that feeling? Oh yes, it is the loads of caffeine from the coffee I just downed at breakfast, coursing through my veins. Sigh.

So, I did some busy-work, caught up on emails, chatted with a friend, and finally was ready to lie down when - yep! The little guy was wide awake and calling for me. I took a deep breath, downed a little more caffeine, took a minute and then headed up to get him.

I needed an afternoon activity that would carry us through, with as little required of me as possible (I just couldn't manage much at that point), and as much stimulus for Z as possible, without directly exposing him to other kids. (sometimes sharing isn't nice) The zoo it was!

We wandered through the zoo, and I picked up a little plastic set of African animals to further engage Zane. The cashier informed us that the new baby orangutan was out with her mother in the enclosure for the first time. Apparently the mother had been pretty protective of sharing her baby with the world before now, understandably.

We arrived at the orangutan area to see the mama orangutan, with tiny baby clutching tightly to the hair on her shoulder, climbing up into a tree for a snack. Dad was there too, and he was clearly annoyed by all the attention they were suddenly getting, shielding his face as he moved from hammock to rock, like a celebrity avoiding the paparazzi. There were only 3 of us there at that time, but I am sure they'd had a pretty steady stream coming all day. Mama swung from trunk to branch, baby sticking to her like velcro. At one point, she stopped to eat, and her little one moved to put her face next to Mom's. Mama showed baby what she was eating and tilted her head ever so slightly to rub her face against her baby, like I have done with Zane and a million mothers before me have done, a million times before.

I was entranced by the two of them, moving as one, clearly so bonded, mother clearly so protective, so human. I was reminded of Zane's early months where I literally wore him, held him, slept next to him, constantly.

Later, as we purchased tickets for the train and carousel, the cashier (a young woman, maybe in her early twenties, who we are by now pretty familiar with) asked if we had seen the baby orangutan. I told her we had and marveled aloud at what a sweet mama the orangutan was.

"Well", she said, "she had a hard time at first. She's a first time mom. In the beginning, when her baby would cry and cry she would like take a deep breath and put her in this big bucket and walk away for awhile. She was pretty overwhelmed at first."

"Wow," I replied, "good for her for taking a break! It's hard being a first time mom!"

"Well, yeah...," she continued, "I mean, I am sure she likes her baby and all...it was just hard at first I guess. She's doing great now though, super protective. The tiger mom (who had quadruplet tiger cubs recently), now SHE'S exhausted. She is so tired, poor thing."

I walked away with this whole new insight into this mama and baby I had just been admiring minutes before. Wow. Motherhood is hard. It just is. Even now, in one of the happiest seasons of my life and my time as a mother, I find myself in one of those days. And this mama tiger, and this mama orangutan, they struggle too.

And I am pretty sure they didn't have to make dinner tonight, aren't worried about clean underwear, and don't have bills or schedules to worry about.

I have been chewing on this all evening, trying to find the right words to describe the light bulb moment I had there, talking with this woman (who I am pretty darn sure is not a mom).

I think it has something to do with the struggle being a natural part of it. Some struggle more, some less...but it's there. I think the times I have been weary, depressed, or just having a regular old hard day, one of the hardest parts for me is thinking that somehow I should be able to weather these days easier, I should be able to do more, be more, feel more, and all with a smile, always. And while in the last many months, more often than not I am easily smiling and laughing and just soaking up the joy of motherhood through many a day, some days I am not. On an intellectual level I know that that's ok. I would tell anyone else that it was ok, normal, natural. But some times I still get caught in that trap of should and it is hard to find my way out. There is always someone who seems to do it with more ease, more grace, more joy. Hell, I've probably been that person for someone out there too (if so, I am so sorry! I have those days too...obviously).

I think also, it reminds me of the period when most days were those days. When lack of sleep, and various other factors combined and I found myself deeply depressed. For months. It reminds me of those nights when I had to hand over my crying, sleepless baby to my husband for fear of hurting myself, or even sometimes god-forbid, my beautiful son. It reminds me of the guilt I felt for having to do that, like I was broken, like I was a bad mother. It reminds me that even though I came through that time, even though I got help, I got better, my son started sleeping, and the sun rose again, and my joy returned - that part of my story as a mom is still very compartmentalized and hidden away from my story as a whole.

Sure, I will readily relate to someone the quick version "Oh my son stopped sleeping at 6 months, and I developed postpartum depression and then he started sleeping at 12 months and I got better..." but it is hard for me to integrate it fully into my story, as a woman, and a mother. I want to hold it out, separate, a parenthesis, a foot note.

In this short interaction I was confronted with this animal mother's story, the whole of it up to this point: putting her baby in a bucket and stepping away when she felt overwhelmed (which I find very admirable on her part, btw), feeling deeply protective and guarding her baby and her time with her, to stepping out cautiously into the world with her little one, still protective, but much more comfortable in her role as "Mama".

I don't know it just hit me. I felt validated. I felt so much. I felt a kindred spirit with these animal mamas and I felt a lot better about my own rough day, my own exhaustion, my own "bucket" moments. I felt a tenderness for the orangutan and the tiger that allowed me to feel a tenderness for myself. I also felt so much tenderness for all of you, all my friends, all the bloggers, all the women I have never even met who have struggled through their own bucket moments, their own "those days", and worse. I wanted to shout to the world, "Look, it's totally natural! Motherhood is hard work! We fall down sometimes, we get overwhelmed, we need a break, we need help. It is normal, and it is ok!"

I know, this is not news to many of you, and it really shouldn't be news to me...but today it was.

And I am grateful for it.

good-bye, Zebu

2010-09-07T21:34:00.005-06:00

Last Friday we said good-bye to our beloved, seven year old Rhodesian Ridgeback, Zebu.

He was the first being we co-parented together all the way, from his sweet puppy-start to his much-to-soon end.

He was diagnosed with an aggressive and malignant cancer in January, and given 6 months to live. In many ways that diagnosis was a gift. We knew what was coming, we knew what to expect, we were able to be more intentional and present with him in his last months with us. We didn't always do it perfectly, but I am grateful for that time. We spoiled him, we made him as comfortable as we could, and when he reached a point that the pain and the illness became too much, we knew, and we were able to plan his passing.

We called our doctor of the last 10+ years. The same doctor who gave Zebu his puppyhood vaccinations, the same doctor who neutered him and helped him through various illnesses. He came to our home. We held Zebu in our arms, on his favorite bed, his head laying on my husband's lap. We told him it was ok to go, we told him we loved him, we thanked him, and we peacefully let him go. He went quickly, like a deep sigh of relief.

I thought there would be sobbing, but there were only quiet tears from us both. I know that this is something that will hit us in waves, creeping up on us in unexpected ways. Like today when I prepared to go for a bike ride with Zane and realized there was no petulant pup, crowding us at the door begging to come along.

The house is quiet. But I still feel him here, as I did with Sativa after she passed last year.

He was so strong and so brave at the end. There was always so much more going on for him than he let on. I know I will be a better mother in many ways for having loved him and being loved by him. He was our lion hunter, who trembled at the sound of a motorcycle. He was our 90lb lap dog and our ferocious protector. He was our sweet boy.

We love you Zebu, we miss you. We hope you are somewhere warm, running along the water's edge with Sativa and that there will always be plenty of soft fluffy beds for you at the end of the day.

And, I am sorry for that time we made you wear the princess crown. We couldn't resist. I hope you are laughing about it now.

Communion

2010-08-26T15:25:00.004-06:00

I lift the corner of the sheet I have thrown over the dining room table, a wall for a fort, for a private tent, a secret hideaway. I pass him a small bowl holding two graham crackers and a cup filled with juice. He very carefully takes both from me and smiles.

I lower the wall again, turning to get back to my chores, my thousand obligations.

Until....

His head pops around the corner, he is walking towards me, carefully balancing his bowl of graham crackers in both hands.

"Mama."

"What honey?"

"Mama", he holds the bowl out to me.

"No, honey, those are for you. Those are Zane's."

"Mama!"

"Here, let me carry them so they don't spill"

"Mama."

He grabs my fingers and leads me back to his tent. We take our seats inside.

He picks up a single cracker and places it in my hand. He looks right in my eyes.

I am undone.

I break the cracker in two, handing him the other half and we silently take turns feeding each other bites.

He then picks up his juice and offers it to me.

"Mama!"

I take my sip and offer it back to him.

"Thank you, Zane. Thank you."

18 months - The Z files

2010-08-02T20:05:00.004-06:00

My heart and mind are full and overflowing. How do I write about this boy, this child, without seeming trite and cliche?

He rocks our world daily. He is full of light, full of laughter, full of life. He is my greatest joy and greatest love. He is a mystery to me, and someone I know like my own skin.

The last six months have been monumental in terms of Zane's development, in terms of my development as his mother. This is by far the most fun I have ever had, and the hardest work I have ever done. Wow.

Six months ago he was crawling, and walking along furniture, standing, but not ready yet to venture out on his own two feet. Three months ago he began walking across the room. Today, he runs full speed through the house, and runs out from his hiding places when we wonder aloud, "Where is Zane?".

Six months ago he first began to cradle baby dolls and offer bottles to his newborn cousin. Today he concocts gourmet meals at his sandbox, asking for spoons to stir his various creations and then offers tastes to me and his "babies", announcing "Yum, Yum, Yum!".

At Christmas time we greeted our tree each morning and thanked her. Today he hugs any tree he can get his arms around and stops to smell the flowers as often as he can.

He has this incredibly mischievous side to him, deliberately "hiding" quietly just out of our view and then popping out in breath-stealing laughter as we go looking for him, looking at us and laughing a moment before he initiates some forbidden behavior.

He is intensely physical, hugging with his whole body, asking to be thrown onto the bed again and again, throwing his entire body on the floor, biting, or slamming his head into the hardest surface within reach when he is angry or frustrated.

He is sweetly sensitive, becoming upset when someone else is injured, whether in real life or on television, or in the painted image on one of his toys or in his books; kissing his "babies" when they fall, lifting my shirt to kiss my gall bladder scars every day, tenderly pointing and saying "Owwww" as he does so.

He becomes quickly fascinated by anything he imagines might need fixing or might be able to be dismantled. He reaches for nuts, bolts, screws, and tries with all his might to manipulate them, even when they happen to be holding in place the safety glass between him and the very large and ferocious lions at the zoo. You can almost see his mind working as he approaches something, such as his "bubble train", and turns it over in his hands, removing what he can, trying to understand how it works, how it all fits together. His focus and his concentration are amazing to behold.

He has recently become increasingly aware of his appearance, stopping to admire himself and frankly, sometimes make out with himself, in mirrors. He has favorite shirts (we have dubbed them "super cool dude shirts") that he literally struts around the house in. He picks out his outfits, refuses certain clothing items and refuses to allow us to remove others. Of course we have begun manipulating this to convince him that hats that protect him from the sun are indeed "super cool dude" items as well.

He is both incredibly independent and incredibly affectionate, making for this constant cycle of his stepping away to explore and do things for himself followed by his running wildly back to me for a full body hug and kiss and cuddle. It seems at times neither of us can get quite enough of the other. But it is certainly I who is the more love-sick one, having trouble walking away and leaving him, even when it is for my own good. He, on the other hand, fully secure, delights in his one-on-one time with Daddy, his auntie, or his favorite babysitter. He knows I will return, he knows he is loved. I am so grateful for that.

Speaking of Daddy, his adoration for my husband is legendary. He somehow knows exactly when to start expecting his father's return and stands on the couch, spreads the curtains and looks eagerly down the street while singing "Daddy, Daddeeeeeeeeeee, Daddddddddy!" over and over and over. He points out things throughout the day that remind him of his dad and sometimes just sits singing "Daddy" over and over to himself. I won't lie, I have been a little jealous at times over this devotion. But mostly I am just so grateful that I chose such a phenomenal man to have a child with. I love that Zane has this connection with his dad, something they have created together, it is a gift that unfolds before me daily.

There is a lullaby I have been singing to Zane since before he was born. It is the song of a mother singing to her son and at one point she sings, "And sometimes I will ask the moon where it smiled upon you last and shake my head and laugh and say, 'It all went by so fast'..." Never did those words penetrate my heart like they do now. It is already going by so fast, so very fast. I want to hold each day and pin it down in a book, but the days are quick and fleeting, and for every moment I have the presence of mind to remember, there are a thousand I have forgotten.

What a gift and what a torture. To love this person unfolding before me with such fullness and such completeness, knowing his growing means changing, means a thousand new discoveries and a thousand more good-byes.

There is one thought I have every single day and that is how incredibly fortunate I am to be here. I feel as though the whole of my life has led me here, and I cannot stop saying "Thank You".

Thank you.

Fortunate at 4 a.m.

2010-06-17T13:57:00.003-06:00

Last Friday, I had my gall bladder removed. Which, took me off of Mama-duty for a good 24-48 hrs. Which, of course, coincided with Zane's developmentally appropriate peak in separation anxiety. While he loved his time with "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!", he obviously was a bit shaken by my sudden inability to care for him in the ways he is used to. Also? I am pretty sure he's teething again.

As a result, we've been experiencing some sleepless nights again around these parts. Mr. Spicy has been a trooper in handling most of the middle-of-the-night-omg-why-won't-you-go-back-to-sleep wakings, but last night, as I heard Zane scream each time he tried to lay him back down, I sensed it was time for me to step in. I rocked my little boy as he laid on my chest, singing lullabies and lulling him back to sleep....or so I thought. Each time I stood up and began to move him to his crib, he wrapped his arms around my neck and shook his head "no....no". Finally, I caved and asked if he'd like to come to bed with us. He burrowed his face into my shoulder and nodded emphatically.

Bringing him into bed with us is always a gamble. If he's really sick or in pain he'll settle in quickly and nod off, but otherwise he usually decides it is family party time and demonstrates his unique gift for death-defying acrobatic maneuvers that are sure to get our adrenaline pumping.

Last night, he began by trying to negotiate for "num nums" which I denied. He whimpered a bit, complained to his daddy, and then eventually threw himself cross-ways against my chest, burying his nose in my arm pit as I stroked his back, and he drifted off to sleep.

As I lay there, pinned beneath my sweaty, heavy, sweet, boy, I contemplated the situation. It was 4:30 a.m., and I had been up since 3. I was expecting to feel exasperation, frustration, failure. Instead, I realized what I felt in that moment was overwhelming gratitude, and it surprised me. I was tired, in pain, and lying with a toddler's nose wedged into my armpit at a crazy hour, and what I felt most was gratitude.

I felt thankful that the reason I was awake, the weight upon my chest, was this incredible boy, MY little boy. A boy I longed for for so very long. I was filled with the beauty of this boy, MY boy, who simply wanted ME, his mother - and wanted to be so close to me that he fell asleep with his nose greedily inhaling the scent of me, his mama. Grateful that it was my scent that comforted him, my heartbeat accompanying his dreams.

"I am so incredibly unbelievably fortunate", I thought.

Later, I was able to slowly roll him over to the space between my husband and I. Our family, all in bed together, my husband and son sleeping. Breathtaking.

It is the moments like this, the ones that too often pass in a blink and are forgotten, moments in which I feel so fully a mother, and so fully in love with this boy, and the family he has made of us, these moments I want to hold onto, be able to conjure up on those days when I feel like I am failing everyone, or those days when it all seems to be going so very very fast....

I am so very fortunate. So very very fortunate.

Wanted: Road map from Fear to Freedom

2010-06-07T13:50:00.004-06:00

I read this blog post today, on being fearless in youth and somehow losing that fearlessness as you mature and learn about being wounded and judged and it just resonated with me so loudly, it was as if somehow she knew just what I was feeling today.

I was the girl who went off on adventures, often dangerous adventures, all alone, all summer long. I was the girl who convinced three other girls in 5th grade to get on stage with me to sing/ lip-sync to "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" even though I had not a lick of singing talent at the time. I was the girl who stood in front of my highschool classmates and gave speeches about social prejudices and who got into heated debates during Spanish class about gay rights. I moved across the country at 19, all alone, with maybe $400 in my pocket, to a big city I had never visited and didn't know anyone in. I proceeded to join a band, perform my poetry on stage, spilling my heart and anger out for anyone who would listen. In my twenties, I took week long camping trips alone, with my dog. I fell in love or lust with wild abandon, and fell into friendships with the same passion and devotion.

In the last ten years or so, something changed.....

As The Butterfly states so eloquently:

"Somewhere along the line, and I can’t pinpoint when, I lost my fearlessness. ... I started being afraid of everything, and not just fear for myself, but also for everyone around me. And the more I think about it, the more I think that my fear of physical danger grew out of my built-up fear of emotional danger.

... I spent a lot of my life putting myself out there emotionally. My physical adventurousness was nothing compared to my emotional adventurousness, but unlike the physical risks I took, my emotional risks usually didn’t work out very well. I was too open, and I got my heart stomped on. A lot. As a result, I stopped taking risks. I wrapped myself up around my heart and protected myself, and some part of me took a look at that and said, “Hey! If you can get your spirit knocked around so many times, it’s only a matter of time before you do something dumb and end up killing yourself.” I stopped taking risks, with my heart and with my person."

I can't pinpoint which exact heartbreak or loss or disappointment led me down this path, I think it was a very gradual process. I have always struggled with deep insecurities, and a deep sense of being different and not good enough. That was part of what made my emotional risks so "risky". I was putting myself out there, even though I often felt terrified inside. Well, and what better way to fill that need for affirmation?

Somehow, the risks became less attractive, the affirmation became more hollow, and I found myself feeling more fearful in places of emotional intimacy and depth. I slowly began to make my world smaller and safer. The less risks, the less relationships, the better. Today I often dream about just running away (with my husband and son of course) and starting from scratch and I can become anxious over simply returning a phone call or going to a party. Heck, half the reason I blog so infrequently these days is because I worry over what someone might judge me for or whether what I have to say is worth writing about.

And just as The Butterfly writes in her blog, I didn't just withdraw and become overly cautious emotionally, I became fearful and overly cautious about anything risky for myself, and for anyone I love. I came to hate the idea that my husband had a motorcycle, even though that was one of the things that attracted me to him to begin with. I have shown major resistance to the idea of my husband learning to kite surf, as I am sure he will get swept out to sea, or into the side of a cliff and die a horrible painful death. I have never cashed in the gift certificate that my husband gave me for tandem sky-diving, even though it used to be on my "life list". I have become hesitant lately even thinking about changing my hairstyle!

Today, I am longing for that fearless girl and woman I used to be. I find myself digging for remnants of her beneath the walls I have built to protect myself and what I hold dear. There is much more to lose now, and I feel more fragile underneath it all. It is not so easy to be fearless, not so easy to risk. I am less certain than ever that I have something worthwhile to offer and I have come through some pretty hard seasons in the last few years that have left their marks. Just as physical scars make the skin less pliable, the emotional scars I carry have left me more rigid, less flexible, less free.

And yet, I have so many reasons to be free, to be happy, to be full. Despite my insecurities, my anxiety, my difficulty connecting at times, I have an amazing husband and son and dear friends who are so worth taking risks for and worth putting my heart out there and when I do, they have shown me that they love me spots and all.

So...how do I find my way back to fearlessness? Or at least "less fearful" and more free? Does being a mother just naturally mean living with more fear?

(p.s. and for those of you thinking "Damn girl, get yourself some therapy"....I have, and I am.)

Safe Sling Love

2010-05-17T11:13:00.003-06:00

Holy crap it's been a long time since I have posted! Geez.

Well, to ease myself in slowly I am posting a link to another, much more famous, celebublogger, if you will....

I have been really sad reading all the slack that slings and babywearing mamas are getting since the recent recalls. I simply could not imagine Zane's first year without the Maya Wrap, HotSling, and our Ergo. I loved wearing him and would do it again in a heart beat.

Amy Corbett Storch, who authors the blog, Amalah, discusses here the differences between the recalled slings and other slings and the importance of using slings SAFELY, which means wearing the baby up high, in an almost upright position, and always always being able to feel their breathing and see their face at all times.

I love her last paragraph, and feel very similar about our experience using slings:

I publicly praise slings a lot simply because of the convenience and hands-free aspect of them. I could carry Ezra around and nurse him…while fixing myself a sandwich or writing a blog post! Brilliant! But another thing that a really well-designed sling will give you is an INCREDIBLE sense of connection to your baby. And that’s something I really don’t think those over-padded and over-structured baby duffels provided, thus leading to a nightmarish scenario where a baby suffocated while his mother had no idea there was a problem. When Ezra was in our favorite sling (the Rockin’ Baby), the thin fabric allowed me to feel his little warm body and every movement. His head sat up on near my chest and heart, and even though I used the sling for hands-free activities, my hand still cradled his shape or stroked his face and body inside the sling every chance it got. It was not a utilitarian piece of baby transporting equipment, it was a really wonderful bonding tool, and a place where I could truly keep him close and safe and loved.

I especially appreciate some of the comments left as well, such as:

actually, the danger is less the fabric closing over their face than the lack of support – the child gets curled up with his chin pressed against his chest, and his windpipe can collapse, like a kink in a hose. A pouch or sling that holds the baby high and tight is safer, and a carrier that holds the baby upright against your chest, like a ring sling or a mei tai, is even better. All slings can be used unsafely; the problem is that the Slingrider cannot be used safely.
The members of The Babywearer are actually very angry over the whole thing, because Infantino has been warned of the risk of suffocation multiple times since 2006, and have done nothing.

And as so many of the commenters pointed out, it's always a good idea to not only read the instructions and watch the videos that often come with slings to ensure a safe fit, but a baby wearing class or fitting should also be considered. I did attend a baby wearing class offered at a local Mom and baby place and found it really helpful not only in understanding safe baby wearing but also in finding the right product for me.

So that's it. Just wanted to share a little article in defense of slings and using them safely.

Well I guess I brought this upon myself....

2010-03-31T21:08:00.003-06:00

Very funny, internets!

Not 24 hours after posting my last post I came down with a really nasty cold. I feel like I have been run over and dragged through a swamp. Ugh.

So much for delighting in my alone time. It was nice while it lasted.

Mr. Spicy cannot get home soon enough.

Not lonely

2010-03-30T19:58:00.004-06:00

I am all alone. For the rest of the night.

I can't remember the last time I could say that.

Mr. Spicy is out of town for work and Zane is sleeping upstairs and I am here, alone.

Of course, I do have a sleeping child upstairs so it's not like I am really all alone. But it is close enough.

As soon as I heard my son mumble off into the silence of sleep, it hit me. I was enveloped in the richness of the moment, completely alone. Like being wrapped in the softest silk. I almost cried at the comfort of the silence and stillness, knowing that there would be no one coming home tonight, there was no end to this imposed by anyone else, there was no one else to consider.

No one but me.

I sat on my bed, the fan blowing, the windows open, letting the last light of the day stream through, listening to the sounds of the neighborhood ending its busy day, and a part of me showed up in that moment, a part of myself I can only connect with when I am all alone.

Oh how I have missed her.

I have missed this.

Before I was married, before I was a mother, I was an expert at being alone. I thrived on it. For years I took week-long camping trips every summer, just me and my dog. I moved across the country twice all by myself. I have taken so many solo road trips that it is actually hard for me to connect with someone else on a road trip, I just so easily slip into my own routine and my own space there. I enjoy my own company and my time alone.

It has been good for me to be forced out of this, it has been a good practice for me to have to be present in almost every single moment with another human being. I can feel myself growing, my patience, compassion, honesty, courage, selflessness, expanding. Being responsible to another person the way I am as a wife, but even more so as a mother has been an incredible experience of sacrifice and heart expanding love that I would not trade for anything.

But oh how I have missed this.

Of course by the time I go to bed tonight, or surely when I wake up in the morning, I know I will long for the familiar feel of my husband lying in bed beside me, his smell, his laugh. I know I will miss sharing the day with him, sharing each other's burdens. I will miss my partner. And lets be honest, I will also miss the help.

But for now, I am spending the night with an old friend who I have neglected for far too long.

Oh how I have missed you.

Won't you stay a while?

The Curse

2010-03-22T08:28:00.002-06:00

Yep, it is true. Announcing to the internet that your son sleeps great and loves to sleep pretty much guarantees you are going to have a rough night.

Zane was up three times before finally deciding at 3 a.m. that he was NOT going to go back to his crib. So I laid on the couch holding him until 7 a.m.

Yawn! I hope this is a one night curse and not a "your child will never sleep again" curse.

When will I learn?

Seriously though....I have no idea what was wrong with him last night. He seems totally fine now.

Yawn!

The Z Files: Month Fourteen

2010-03-21T20:44:00.004-06:00

Zane is 14 months today. Although, if you ask my husband he'll say "he's a year and a couple months". Is it a mom thing to keep track of their age by months?

He is so much fun these days. He has been nodding his head "yes" for several months now and just recently started shaking his head "no". He knows what it means to do both and answers our various questions appropriately.

This is opening up so much between us. I can ask him if he is tired, hungry, hurting. I can ask whether he needs his diaper changed. I can inform him about our plans for the day and find out how he feels about it. I can ask him if he's enjoying something or if he needs help. I feel like we are having conversations all day long and he has yet to say an actual word (except for "mama", "dada", "yeah" and his favorite, "Oh!Wow!"

He loves to do whatever we are doing, whether it is talking on the phone, wiping the counters, stirring the pancakes, pushing the vacuum, or using a screwdriver. He is always watching and always eager to try to mirror us.

He loves his books and will often pull all the books off of his shelf and sit in the pile, "reading" one at a time to himself. He turns the pages, points to things, and tells himself the story in his high-pitched baby babble.

He climbs anything that is standing still, or at least he tries to. He is crazy strong and agile and has no fear. A dangerous combination to be sure.

He loves food with lots of flavor, he eats curry, chili, mexican food, italian food. He prefers to feed himself whenever possible and is beginning to actually use a spoon appropriately, although he still has a long way to go. I am looking forward to eating outside in the summer and being able to just hose him down when he's done!

He stands on his own and cruises all over the house holding onto surfaces, but still no official walking unless you count the two or three unsteady steps he takes between the two of us when we help him "practice".

He has learned how to use crayons and frequently makes his way over to his table several times a day to "color" in his sketchbook.

He is curious about everything around him, always trying to understand how everything works and wanting to get his hands on it, turn it over and ponder it if he can.

He loves dogs but has learned that Zebu is not so excited about him and he generally is really great about respecting Zebu's boundaries. Of course, the one time they are fast friends is meal time!

He is incredibly affectionate, kissing and hugging us all day long. Right before he lays down to go to sleep he will hold my face in his hands and kiss me before pointing to his bed.

He sleeps! And every. single. time. is a frickin miracle to me. He has become a really great sleeper actually and really loves his bed. Sometimes he even asks to be put back in bed for a few minutes when he first wakes up in the morning.

He is still nursing, although we finally compromised down to three times daily recently (from the four times a day he was doing previously). "Num Num" time is by far his favorite time of the day and I joke that if I do not wean him at some point he would probably nurse until he was 16. Right now I think we are both happy with where we are at and I constantly have to pinch myself because I can't believe we have made it this far and done so well. I know how fortunate I am in this area although we did have a few hiccups along the way (such as my milk going "sour" within hours no matter how I tried to store it - meaning I was not able to pump and give him a bottle for roughly a year)

We have noticed lately how much more active we are on the weekends because of Zane. We finally made it to that yummy breakfast place we have been meaning to visit, we went to a parade last week, we went to the zoo today - we get out to see the world more because of him. Part of it is because he is an active toddler who is very happy when there are adventures to be had, part of it is because with his nap schedule we know we have limited time we can be away from the house and we want to make the most of it, but in a big way, our increasingly adventurous and motivated weekends are because we just love sharing the world with Zane and we can't get enough of hearing him say "OH! WOW!"

And inside, we are saying it right back at him:

Oh! Wow! Indeed, Son.

Oh! Wow! Indeed.

I have enough for this life

2010-03-18T09:28:00.006-06:00

Wonder is the beginning of wisdom - Greek Proverb

We are fortunate enough to live within walking distance of our city zoo. Our zoo membership card is one of my most valued possessions. Yesterday was a hot sunny day, with temperatures reaching 70 degrees. The perfect day for a walk.

I pushed Zane in the stroller, our entire adventure punctuated with his gasps and shouts of "Oh Wow!" forcing me to often stop and ask him what had captured his excitement. Sometimes it was a tree, other times a big red truck or a city bus. At the zoo it was the monkeys, a lorikeet, or best of all the big beautiful carousel! Later it was flowers, a dog, a pineapple.

One of the great lessons Zane continues to teach me daily is to cultivate an attitude of awe and wonder. The entire world seems to excite and intrigue him and in his presence I am reminded how amazing it all really is. The world is so much bigger and brighter when I am with him.

I am so absorbed in the wonder of earth and the life upon it that I cannot think of heaven and the angels. I have enough for this life. ~ Pearl S. Buck

Living in a lovely limbo

2010-03-16T10:26:00.003-06:00

I was recently reading one of my favorite blogs, Mother Rising, and was reminded of how many moments are flying by in our lives that are going undocumented.

I struggle with the purpose of this blog, wondering if it should be a place for me to write about myself, motherhood, or my boy - or somehow all three.

I do know that I rarely take the time to capture the days that go by and before I know it they are lost in my memory. I want to be more diligent about writing it down. I don't want to lose these days.

So I am hereby committing to try to write something here at least five days of our week. We'll see how it goes!

It is Tuesday and Zane is napping right now. Tuesdays are a bit of a free day for us. Today the weather is gorgeous so we'll take a walk, maybe have lunch at the park and try to make it to the zoo after his afternoon nap.

This is the part of being a stay-at-home mom that I love, having the time to plan small adventures and daily outings with Zane. I love exploring the world with him, watching awe and delight wash over his face, connecting with him through shared moments and discoveries and play.

Mondays we go to story time at our local library. Wednesdays we visit with friends and sometimes make the trek up to Boulder. Thursdays our friend G. comes to spend 4 hours with Zane while I run errands, or go to appointments, or just generally have "me" time. Fridays right now mean music class.

It's a meager little schedule for our week, interspersed with trips to the grocery store, chores, walks with the dog, stories, tickling, coloring, and dancing.

This is the part I love, the part that gets me out of bed every morning.

The constant cleaning, the awareness of the ever-growing "to do" list that I never get to, the self-imposed standards that I never seem to measure up to, the "witching hour" before my husband walks through the door....those are the parts that wear on me some days.

I can barely stand to be away from Zane for the few hours a week I am, and yet sometimes I just crave the solitude I am missing.

It is a strange math in my heart that means I never get enough of my son and at the same time never get quite enough for myself. It is a limbo I am learning to live in daily.

I feel like so much of this year, this season, is about me finding myself as a mother, but also remembering the self I am outside of my family. Sometimes that latter self feels very small.

I am wondering for you moms and dads out there....what parts of parenting do you love and live for? what parts do you struggle with?

All Boy

2010-03-02T19:10:00.002-07:00

He can put the shapes into the correct holes of his shape-sorter.

He can point to different animals in his books when asked, "Where's the....?".

He can bring us all to tears with laughter as he makes loud farting noises with his mouth against my belly.

He can identify his body parts: nose, ears, eyes, mouth, teeth, hair, toes, fingers, and yes, his penis.

He can climb up and down from the couch, our bed, the stairs.

He can clearly communicate when he wants something, what he wants and when he has had enough.

He can melt my heart and bring me to moments of awe daily.

He is all boy.

I am all his.

The Tooth Hurts

2010-02-20T17:10:00.003-07:00

aka: "F*cking Tooth!"

Well, it seems that Zane's first tooth has cut through his gum and is finally making its long awaited appearance.

I say "seems" because I don't trust this tooth, it is a sneaky little shit. Zane has had no less than 6 episodes of full on teething symptoms since the age of four months. I am not talking a little drool, a little fussiness. I am talking red swollen gums, a bump where we are sure a tooth is just about to cut through, sleepless nights, the fountain of drool, the whole enchilada. But alas, a few days would pass, the bump receded, the redness faded, and the tooth had gone back into hiding. Like a sadistic little groundhog.

Thursday morning we noticed the smallest sliver of tooth, actual tooth, cutting through his gum and I thought to myself, "That wasn't so bad. Maybe we went through all those terrible teething episodes before to make this part easier." When will I learn?

Thursday and Friday night were punctuated by much screaming, crying, bloody gums, and a poor little Zane who was so frustrated and confused and in pain that he began smacking himself in the head and face in an apparent attempt to rid himself of the demon who had taken over in there. I could not blame him. I have a few fantasies of what I would like to do to this tooth if it weren't attached to his head.

I have begun to view the tooth as a domestic terrorist, come to torture us all into submission. For what I am unsure, because if I knew? I would totally negotiate.

But it seems this time the tooth is here to stay and I am anticipating a few others in short succession, so we are all just buckling down and holding on for the ride because - hey! The boy has teeth! Well, a tooth, just one for now. That's all we can really handle.

His toothless baby smile is about to disappear, forever. Sigh. He's becoming such a boy.

A boy with teeth even! Watch out world!!!

Lent revisited

2010-02-18T09:20:00.003-07:00

Lent has begun. Two years ago I walked into Lent with a desperate prayer and overwhelming desire to be a mother. I attended church weekly, lighting candles for the soul I soon hoped would join our family and be our child. I was in the midst of blood draws, ultrasounds, and daily injections that felt like a sort of offering and a kind of penance and absolution at the same time.

It was a time of longing and lament.

This morning is so different. I wake at 6am, nurse my one year old as we snuggle in bed together, and head downstairs. We turn on rich peaceful music and I make Zane a little bowl of waffle pieces, strawberries, yogurt, and bananas. He steals a few big gulps of my orange juice and I pour boiling water into the french press and smell the smoky coffee aroma fill the kitchen. I pour coffee for Mr. Spicy and myself, adding our requisite sugar and cream. I make his high protein, high fat breakfast and my own more healthy fare.

After breakfast Zane and I play his instruments to music playing over the stereo and we surprise Daddy in the office with Zane's newfound ability to open doors on his own! I look into Zane's mouth as he laughs and realize that his first tooth is finally finally finally breaking through his gum!!!! We play some more and I tidy up his room while he points at things out the window. Then I sweep him up into my arms, read him a couple of stories, sing him a lullaby, and he drifts off to sleep while gnawing on my knuckle.

It hits me. I am content. I am happy. I am here, fully present in this moment, which can be such a struggle for me. I realize that I am full, that I fit here in this space, that I love my life, and that I am so very very very lucky and blessed and whatever you call it when your life suddenly makes sense and you are fortunate enough to have everything you could ever want or need right in that moment.

And every little piece matters. From the electricity that flows through our stereo to the fresh strawberries in the refrigerator....from the toaster waffles to the coffee beans.....from the toy instruments to the blanket that I wrap around Zane as I rock him. Every piece matters. The mundane becomes holy.

There are no candles lit, no incense wafting, no kneeling, no wooden pew. There is a new ritual, new prayers, there are bananas and juice instead of bread and wine, there are soulful songs on the stereo instead of hymns, and there is joy. There is so much joy here. And it is holy.

Everything is holy.

*not a hyper-christiany song...promise. I just love this song.

One Year

2010-01-21T21:50:00.004-07:00

Zane turned a year old today.

I had planned a beautiful day of discovery and connection for us. I imagined cuddling and telling him stories from his birth and relating to him how long we waited and prayed for him to be with us and how utterly grateful we are that he has come into our lives. I imagined a peaceful, celebratory day.

Instead, much like his birth - it was all of that, but not at all how I planned it.

He woke up at 5am. An hour early. I sat in his room till 6am quietly "shhh"ing and trying to coax him back to sleep. At 6 we "woke" him with a big birthday song and hugs and kisses. Mr. Spicy brought him into our room and I nursed him and promptly passed out in exhaustion. Mr. Spicy was kind enough to let me sleep for an hour, but that meant I missed the "cake for breakfast" festivities I had so been looking forward to. I came downstairs to find a very happy little boy with cake crumbs all over his pj's. Very sweet.

Then, somehow Mr. Spicy and I managed to work ourselves into a stupid, nasty fight before he left for work and I was more than 30 minutes late getting Zane down for his first nap. Nice.

I had decided to take Zane to the National Western Stock Show in town after his nap, to pet all the exciting farm animals. Zane woke up a little extra clingy so we snuggled in bed for awhile which was delightful, but put us way behind schedule. I rushed us to the show, only to struggle to find parking that wasn't $20, and rushed us inside to see all the bunnies and chickens and horses and sheep and goats and pigs and llamas and donkeys.... oh my! Zane enjoyed the "petting farm" and desperately wanted to hold the bunnies, but we were both toast within 30 minutes. He was overdue for lunch and a nap, and I was way overstimulated.

So we rushed home with his favorite CD turned up loudly for distraction and upon arriving at our house, I locked our keys in the car. After calling Mr. Spicy for rescue, and being rescued by a kind neighbor, I finally got us inside, fed Zane quickly and rushed him upstairs to nap.

He woke up only 30 minutes later, hands in his mouth, complaining of teething pain. So, we snuggled in bed again and soon it was time to head out the door to take our dog to the vet for an urgent appointment.

Two hours later, we were finally leaving the vet with not so good news about our beloved pup. Zane was hungry again and I had a splitting headache. As we drove home I called Mr. Spicy.

"I feel like a total failure as a mom! I can't even manage to have a nice sweet day with my son for his birthday. I really needed this day to be special for both of us and instead it just feels rushed and stressful and it's all my fault!"

After some reassurance from my loving (and forgiving) husband, I made it home. And though I had planned to make a special meal and enjoy a family dinner around the table sharing stories and celebrating together, it was not to be. Instead, we sat on either side of his highchair, feeding him yet more cake, and two of his favorite veggies, watching in amazement as he picked up his spoon, dipped it into his cake, and brought it to his mouth as if he had been doing this all his life! We laughed with him. We told him how much we love him, how much joy he brings us. We talked about his birth.

Over peas and sweet potatoes, we celebrated. We toasted him with goat's milk. And we laughed. We laughed and laughed.

We laughed as we played "peek-a-boo", marching up the stairs to bath.

We laughed as he splashed and brushed his own wet hair in the bath.

We laughed as we prepared for bed and read our stories.

And just before he laid down to sleep we said our prayers and thanked God for this little miraculous boy and we told him once more just how very very happy we are that he is here.

Thank you, Zane for coming to make us a family. Thank you for being so thoroughly, entirely, uniquely "you". We love you so.

Happy Happy Birthday little man.

Mothering and Depression

2010-01-19T10:37:00.000-07:00

Lately I have been full with thoughts, with words, with emotions. So full I can not seem to find a way to spill them out here, or anywhere else. But afraid if I don't somehow capture this time it will slip away, out of my mind, my heart, my memories. Afraid to forget.

Motherhood is a hard thing for me to write about. It is ripe with contradictions and cliches. Everything I have felt, or feel, is unique and at the same time completely mundane. The experience is mine, and not mine. It is my story, and the story of millions of other mothers who have gone before me, walk beside me, or will come after me. There is nothing new under the sun.

I have never before loved like I have loved my child. I have never willingly suffered as I have this past year. I have never been so full, so whole, and so empty and broken at the same time.

As we approach Zane's first birthday I find myself constantly looking back and looking within. It has been my first year as "Mama". I still feel new at this. I still feel like I am in training. Sometimes I still can't believe it.

I look at Zane and I can still see that newborn, still smell him. I can still see the first time he rolled over, can still hear his first laugh. I still feel that first kiss, the weight of him in the sling when he was so much smaller, his soft fuzzy baby chick hair. It is all still there.

I can also still feel the weight of sleep deprivation, the frustration and anger of waking for the fifth time in a night, the pit of darkness that swallowed me in the worst nights of depression. I remember the thoughts that I was failing as a mother, that my husband and child would be better off without me, that I couldn't take it anymore. It is all still there.

Today, Zane is a toddler (or technically a "crawdler", if you will). He is rich with expression and opinion and independence. He is a delight, he is a challenge. He is my greatest joy.

Today, I am a Mama seasoned by my experiences, my small victories and failures, rich with both insight and questions, and filled with humility.

I have struggled with post-partum depression more often and to a greater depth this year than I have had the strength or courage to admit here, or to many people in my life. There were 3-5 months that felt like I was walking through darkness, feeling my way. There would be patches of light, of hope, and beautiful wonderful moments, whole stretches of days when I would breathe fresh air and feel the sunlight and love my life. But then a few rough nights without sleep, travel, illnesses, or various other disruptions would send me back into the cave.

Looking back, I have a lot of regrets. I miss those months, weeks, days, hours, that ppd took from me. I am sad that although I fought hard to be present and whole with my son, I know I didn't fully experience him in the ways I longed to. I know I missed a lot of moments. I regret that I couldn't or wouldn't be more open with people who love me, or even just here for starters. I am sad that sometimes those who did know weren't always able to be there for me in the ways I needed, or just didn't understand. I regret that I wasn't always able to receive the help from those who did know and understand and wanted to be there for me. I wish that such a large portion of my first year as a mother and Zane's first year of life wasn't tainted by my illness. I wish I didn't still feel like I failed somehow.

All that being said, I have a lot I am grateful for and proud of as well. I am thankful that my partner and I (and a dear friend who watched Zane every week) made it possible and a priority that I had time with a kind and experienced therapist every week, which was truly life-saving for me. I am grateful for the night shifts my partner took so that I could get the sleep that was so crucial to my recovery. I am humbled by the prayers and support of an estranged friend who fought her own long battle with ppd. I am proud that even in the depths of the darkest hours, I fought hard and for the most part was able to stay present with my son, to celebrate him, to comfort him, to play with him, to teach him, to be consistent - and that when I felt unable to do so, I stepped away to recompose myself to come back to him more whole. I cherish that my son is so obviously well-adjusted, secure, and filled with joy and adventure, in spite of my depression.

I know there is no guarantee that my ppd won't resurface. I know for a fact that I still have much work to do to fully heal. But, for now, I am grateful to feel this recent freedom from it. I am looking forward to the year to come. And whatever regrets I have about the year that has passed, I look at my son, and I know I have mothered him well, as well as I am able. I know without a doubt there is nothing I would not do to be a good and healthy mother for him. That is by far the biggest accomplishment of my life thus far. I am reminded that there is far more good in me and a greater capacity to love than I have ever given myself credit for.

Motherhood is a long journey. This was just my first chapter. What a way to start.

Small Miracles

2010-01-01T18:56:00.003-07:00

Happy New Year!

So much to reflect on, so much to celebrate and acknowledge. In many ways the best and hardest year of my life. I hope to explore this more in the days and weeks to come.

But tonight I just want to share a few moments and mini-miracles from our holidays.

Today I caught my 11 month old son carefully unloading the dishwasher, piece by piece, placing each utensil carefully and directly into the garbage can. A year ago he wasn't even here (at least not on the outside). Now I see this toddler standing before me, wide-eyed and full of adventure. This feels miraculous and wonderful. I truly cannot wait for the moments to come.

Today, during bath time, I noticed my son standing in the tub beginning to poop (again). Without a single thought I quickly reached out and caught it in my hand. My husband and I laughed and he chuckled, "Wow, you really are a mom!"
Indeed.

On Christmas Eve, in bleary-eyed sleep exhausted hopefulness, I mentioned to my husband that perhaps we would receive a Christmas miracle and our son would sleep through the night, finally. He slept a record nine and a half hours straight that night to our complete bewilderment and gratitude.

We have embarked on actively shaping Zane's sleep habits with the intent of helping him to sleep through the night and fall asleep on his own (we are using methods mostly from this book). Not only has he given us nights of ten and a half hours of sleep (new record) and seven hours of sleep (literally unheard of in months!) but tonight, after our bedtime ritual and kissing him good night, I sat in our rocking chair and watched my baby quietly and peacefully fall asleep on his own without a single tear. This feels like a miracle and a place I nearly stopped believing we would ever see. I am so proud of him, and of us.

We are all embarking on a new chapter together. A new year. A new decade. I feel hopeful and blessed.

2010....bring it on!

The Spirit of Christmas

2009-12-20T13:15:00.005-07:00

No matter how difficult the last few months have been, or this week has been, I cannot help but feel a sense of quiet joy and wonder as we approach our very first Christmas with Zane.

It is not lost on me that there were years that during this season I felt the emptiness of trying so hard for a child and not having one. There was something, someone, missing.

Now he is here and everything has changed. We are discovering the season together, side by side. He is opening my eyes to magic, and wonder, and possibility, and beauty.

Every morning we make our way downstairs and greet our Christmas tree. We picked her out together, and Zane watched me string lights around her boughs. When we greet her, we first smell her rich piney scent, then we run our fingers through her needles, and sometimes we even give her kisses and thank her for being our Christmas tree. We always give her a nice big drink of water as well.

It occurred to me today that this is the first of many Christmas traditions I am building with my son. The amazing part is how it just happened. It didn't require a lot of thought or planning or research. It just seemed like the thing to do. And now we have this special moment every day that we share together.

For years this season was a reminder of what I lacked, what I longed for. For years I struggled to find the joy of the holiday.

Now, through the wide eyes of my little boy, and in his smile and his laughter - I am rediscovering my own joy, my own wonder, my own Christmas spirit.

This may turn out to be the best Christmas ever.

Disclaimer: I do realize, in light of my last post, that this one might seem a bit over-the-top hopeful or even bipolar. I am still tired, still finding my way, but today I just couldn't help but feel hopeful as I realized the tremendous gift I have been given in my son, my family, and was reminded how very hard it was for us to get here. So, in the spirit of hope and gratitude, this is what came up. And it hardly does justice to what I am feeling and what I am hoping for.

Truth

2009-12-18T18:53:00.005-07:00

In the last three months...... (in no particular order)

We completely remodeled our upstairs, living in our dining room for a full month and dealing with the post-construction deep cleaning of our entire house twice.

Mr. Spicy and I both had the swine flu.

I had the swine flu on a week that Mr. Spicy had to be out of town for work.

Our oven died.

We moved Zane into his own room.

I traveled alone with Zane across two time zones, and visiting two different states, taking two plane rides, and four trains.

Zane has suffered with the croup, two bad colds, two severe ear infections, Roseola, diarrhea, and a possible urinary tract infection.

We have suffered with each illness as well.

We traveled for two weeks as a family, across two time zones, visiting family, only to come home to a house covered in construction dust.

I have battled sleep deprivation and bouts of post-partum depression more often than I would like to admit.

It's been rough. I am not even sure if the list above does it justice. I am exhausted and it feels like just as I find my equilibrium, just as I am sleeping a bit more feeling more myself, just as Zane is healthy and actually able to venture out into the world again. Bam!

This week I was feeling good, I was planning on signing up for an art class in January, finally feeling free and excited to take a little time for myself on a regular basis. I was keeping up with housework, making delicious dinners, doing loving things for my husband, spending time with a friend.

Then Wednesday night Zane spiked a fever and was up literally from midnight to 6am. And although Mr. Spicy and I have been doing shifts at night so I can get more sleep, there was no chance I was going to sleep through this, so I stayed with Z all night, just holding him and worrying. A visit to the Dr. confirmed a nasty ear infection. But Thu. night wasn't much better.

I have learned in the last three months that my depression is pretty much guaranteed to show up when I am not getting enough sleep. And sure enough, it's back. And I feel so incredibly discouraged. I hate being here. I want the energy and the joy I felt earlier in the week. I want to finish decorating our little tree, finish Christmas shopping, sing carols to Zane. Instead I am sitting un-showered, in disheveled pj's trying to muster up the energy to make a sandwich to eat.

I feel so angry. I feel like I am being robbed of the delight I want to be feeling for my son and my life right now. I feel like just as I climb up and out of this, I get a boot to the face again.

I hate to even be writing this. This is not what I want to remember of this time, this is not who I want to be. I feel like I am complaining and being negative and I have so much good to be celebrating instead. But maybe that's another post for another day.

It has been a hard few months. I am careworn and dog-tired.

I think I just needed to say that and have it be ok.

It is hard to give myself permission to say that I am struggling. It is hard to admit that life isn't what I would hope right now. It is hard to admit I am not always strong enough to make it all better on my own. It is hard to not feel like I am failing. It is hard not to be angry at everyone else in the world who seems to be ok. It is hard not to feel like a total loser.

I don't know what else to say.

I love being a mother. I love being Zane's mom. That much is certain. He is the most incredible little person and I absolutely adore him. I would do anything for him.

But damn, it is hard being a mama right now.

'Tis the Season....

2009-11-17T08:48:00.003-07:00

Well I am taking Zane back to the doctor again today. Sigh.

First it was croup. Then last week he had a cold and a fever for 3 days. Now he's spiked another fever for the last 24 hours and he's all congested. Not sure if it's just another virus or some bacterial infection worked its way in while he was weakened. Either way....poor baby. And poor Mama!

I hope we can finally kick this thing in the butt. I am doing everything supportively I can: chest rubs with Eucalptus Radiata and Lavender, steam, cold-mist humidifier, herbal remedies where appropriate to ease his cough and help him rest, homeopathics to help with the sinus congestion, Motrin when needed to bring down the fever and ease his achiness. (all reccommedned by and approved by our pediatrician) I am taking mega doses of Vitamin C, Echinacea/Goldenseal, probiotics, herbal immune booster, whatever I can to hopefully add a little immune boost to my breast milk for him.

One problem with being so proactive and naturally minded when it comes to health issues is that you begin to believe you can heal almost anything with the right supplements and diet. Your body knows how to heal itself you just need to support it...blah blah blah. So when your son gets sick over and over in a three week period and you can't magically make it better you (meaning "I") feel like shit.

I feel like I am failing somehow, like it's my job to keep him healthy. The not so comforting alternative, and probably the truth, is just that we have hit that season - the one where your kiddo seems to be constantly fighting off one thing or another. Bummer.

Selfishly? There is something really sweet about cuddling and rocking my sweet sick little boy and knowing I am making him feel better. Even if I don't have some magic lasso or wrist cuffs that could blast that virus into the next galaxy.

If only.

Thirsty?

2009-11-11T10:18:00.003-07:00

I left Zane alone in the dining room (aka our bedroom at the moment) for a few minutes and when I returned....

I found him pressing his face to the floor eagerly slurping up water he had just poured there from a cup (plastic thankfully) he had grabbed off of a bar-stool-height chair.

Dude. I totally would have gotten you some clean water.

Oh well....at least it wasn't something stronger*. :)

Rhymes with Poop

2009-11-04T12:19:00.002-07:00

Croup.

My little guy has it. He first developed a fever on Friday, then the croupy cough and stridor on Sat. night. By Monday at 5am, despite our many trips into the cool night air and steam sessions in the bathroom, we found ourselves in the ER.

After a breathing treatment and dose of steroid he passed out on my chest and slept for the remainder of our required 3 hours of observation.

He's slowly recuperating but still has a nasty cough and can't sleep more than 20 min or so unless held in our arms in a somewhat upright position.

My poor poor baby!

We are heading back into the doc today.

It is amazing what havoc having a sick baby can bring upon your lives. Thank goodness for a dear friend who came yesterday to help me dig out from under the pile of dirty dishes and laundry!

I really hope he starts feeling a lot better soon. His little voice is so hoarse that he barely makes a sound when he cries. It just breaks my heart.

Sleep and Redemption

2009-10-19T11:34:00.005-06:00

Oh dear! Has it really been that long?

I have been in such a fog these last few weeks. First it was the sleep deprivation....who am I kidding, it is still the sleep deprivation....then depression kicked in. That awful sort of depression that feels tied to everything and nothing in particular. The kind you know has some physiological basis to it (lack of sleep perhaps) but also seems tied to every loose string in your quickly unraveling psyche.

Oh and then? I got the swine flu. And my husband had multiple trips for work scheduled and I had to somehow manage to nurse myself back to health while caring for an extremely active and adventurous 8 month old little boy. Nothing like being kicked when you are down.

Then my husband came home and he got the flu. And things have been pretty bleak if you can imagine.

Also, we moved ourselves (and everything else from upstairs) from our bedroom upstairs to our downstairs dining room so that our floors upstairs could be done. Currently we sleep in our dining room and Zane sleeps in the guest room. We are living a cramped and cluttered existence for a few weeks.

One saving grace, thank God, is that Zane has not shown any major flu symptoms other than a little congestion and a slight cough. I am praying this continues.

In the thick of this chaos and confusion we have been slowly teaching Zane about sleeping. And we've made some significant progress. He has slept through the night (anywhere from 5 to 9 hours straight) multiple times in the last few weeks which while not consistent is nearly a miracle in our books. He also has learned how to fall back asleep on his own when he awakens and I can hear him doing this (without tears) a few times every night. He still needs us to come in at least once or twice a night (sometimes much more on a rough night) to help him fall back asleep when he can't do it on his own, which we are much happier to do now that it isn't every hour on the hour. He is taking regular naps and he is going to bed much earlier in the evening. Things seem to be improving bit by bit.

This season has taught me so much about the fragile balance I walk in mothering. Every piece of mothering is tied to some thing else inside of me. Lack of sleep, desperation, being so needed so constantly.....brings me to the brink of my own humanity, my own woundedness, the places in me that long for a type of mothering I did not always receive when I was small and needy. Teaching my son to sleep, moving him in his own room, listening to him wake briefly and quickly go back to sleep without my help.....brings up my own ambivalence about letting him grow up, letting him get big and strong, letting him go. In the midst of this, I have learned something amazing about my strength, my inherent goodness, my ability to give so much more than I thought I had to give, my ability to endure and struggle for the good of another. I feel like these past few months, and especially this recent difficult season, have forced change in me so deep and thorough that the very marrow in my bones is no longer the same.

I am a mother now.

I am changed.

Nothing will ever be the same.

And that is, at times, both terrifying and thoroughly incredibly redemptive.

In the thick of it.....and the thin....

2009-10-02T15:19:00.004-06:00

Lets start with the "thick of it"....I feel like I may have left you hanging with my last couple of posts about our dire sleep situation. I know a few of you are wondering how we've been faring and whether the temporary solution has been working.

Well....yes and no.

I can't get into all the details right now because I feel like I am right in the "thick" of this and can't really speak well to it all with any perspective. But I have been getting slightly more sleep thanks to Mr. Spicy. I got 4 hours straight last week and 6 hours straight last night. Which is kind of amazing at this point. But still, not enough.

It has become obvious that my body and brain have been pretty beaten up with chronic sleep deprivation and it is going to take a lot more TLC to get me anywhere close to "normal". Mr. Spicy has been a big help, as has my counselor, and a few friends have stepped up and offered my help as well, which has been humbling and also a tremendous relief. Unfortunately, the plans I had this week for a few friends to help out fell through for various reasons, but next week will hopefully be much better.

My therapist and I are working through and monitoring some symptoms of post-partum depression that have recently popped up as a result of my utter exhaustion and we are working on a strategy to help teach Zane how to fall asleep on his own as gently and non-traumatically as possible (I will talk more about this later as I find out if it works or not and have more perspective on it. For now, suffice to say it is hard work but feels very necessary for all three of us).

It feels like we are standing at a crossroad. I am trying to move forward with gentleness and guidance to make wise and loving choices for both myself and Zane. I am being called into a new place within motherhood and I am trying my best to answer that call well for us both.

I will say that the more I work on this....his sleeping, my self-care, and all the various subtle issues in between....the more work I do, the more I am appreciating and loving Zane for just who he is today and finding myself more and more engaged and excited about who he is becoming as well.

----------------------------------------------

And now the "thin" :

Me!

I just have to brag a bit because I am so proud of myself today.

Since my gallbladder attack in June I have been strictly on a low fat, portion controlled diet. I have also been walking several times a week.

Since June 21st I have lost 20.6 pounds!!!

I am thinner than I have been in years. Which, isn't saying a whole lot since I still have at least 10 more pounds to go before I hit the weight I am most comfortable at.

I have been carrying around 30+ pounds of extra weight for years, blaming it on the infertility, depression, etc. Even after I shed nearly the entire 35lbs of pregnancy weight, I held onto those extra 30lbs. I never felt attractive at that weight and it affected so many aspects of my life. I became less active, my sexuality took a nose-dive (much to the dismay of my husband), and I just generally didn't feel "myself" moving through the world.

So much of my weight issue was due to emotionally-driven eating. Having gallstones forced me to eat smaller portions, to think more about what I was putting in my mouth, and to eat for energy and sustenance rather than comfort or distraction. In a way the gallstones have been a blessing in disguise.

So, thanks to gallstones, I am healthier, more active, and happier with my body than I have been in a very very long time. (Except during pregnancy - I loved my body during pregnancy)

As for those pesky gallstones? Well, I had another "attack" a few weeks ago, even on the low fat diet. (grrrrr......) So yesterday I met with a GI specialist and he is running multiple tests on me (including an upper GI endoscopy) to rule out any other causes of the abdominal pain. If it truly is those damn gallstones I may have to go ahead and have my gall bladder removed which I really wanted to avoid. Especially now that those gallstones are working so well for me! :)

I really don't have a great profound closing thought....so I will just ask for good thoughts/prayers as we navigate this season and hopefully move towards a healthier more rested Mama and baby.

Thanks to all who have offered your support this far. It helps so much!

The Sleep Solution...for now...

2009-09-24T09:06:00.005-06:00

Ahhhh...thank you all so much for your words of support and advice yesterday. I really needed those. I was pretty emotional all day and it helped to hear from all of you. Thank you!

Well. I saw my therapist yesterday and spent a little time with a caring friend. Zane and I both were kind of crabby and sad yesterday - the lack of sleep taking its toll.

So. Our plan for the immediate future (I will develop a longer-term plan as I feel more rested) is that for weeknights we take shifts. Mr. Spicy takes Zane until 10:30 or 11 and I sleep in the guest room. Then I get up and come to bed and take any wakings after that. Then Mr. Spicy is on again from about 5:30am - 7:30am. For the weekend, I am going to get Zane down and then go to bed in the guest room. Then Mr. Spicy will take the whole night while I sleep (possibly with the help of some Benadryl?) . If this works it may be the first night I have slept through the night in 8 months+.

Last night we did the shifts and it worked great. I felt so much better even after just a few hours in a row and both Zane and I seemed to sleep better and be in better moods this morning. Win! I know there is still quite a deficit of sleep I need to replenish, but it feels like a good start and I feel so much better able to manage today with even that little bit of sleep.

I am excited to sleep more this weekend but also kind of dreading it. Even when Mr. Spicy has taken night shifts in the past (he used to do one or two every weekend when Zane was a newborn), I would sleep in the same room and invariably wake at least a little when Zane did. So I was still "there". Not being there when he wakes up, not knowing how he is feeling, not being there to hold him or help Mr. Spicy figure out what he needs feels really scary. But I have to let go. I know he loves his Dada and feels safe with him and I have to let go a little now and take care of me. I know I need to do this. I know. It's just hard.

So that's it. Just wanted to let y'all know that we are working on this and I hope to be doing much better soon. Thanks for saying what I needed to hear.

And the payoff....

2009-09-23T08:06:00.003-06:00

This morning as I passed my husband and son in the hall on my way to the bathroom, my husband stopped me to give me a hug:

"Zane, lets give Mama a hug to say thank you for taking care of you all night. You woke up a lot last night, it was hard for Mama."

me: "Well, it was hard for baby too...(to Zane) I know you don't want to wake up so much. I'm sorry it was hard for you last night too."

At this point my beautiful boy lifts his head from Daddy's shoulder and leans over to give me a big wet baby kiss.

aaaaaahhhhh.......

Sleepless in Denver

2009-09-22T23:17:00.006-06:00

I am downstairs, taking a break. Taking a break from my beautiful, incredible, sweet little boy. (He is with his Daddy)

My little boy whose lack of sleep is slowly driving me to the point of insanity.

I know he used to sleep. I just can hardly remember when.

I know that many many months ago he would regularly sleep six hours at a stretch, sometimes even nine.

But it's been a long time since that happened round these parts.

It's been a slow gradual decline....first it was a five hour stretch, then four, then three and a half.

Somewhere along the line I picked up "The No-Cry Sleep Solution", I remember that when I read it he was still fitting into the normal expected sleep pattern for his age. So I put it away and decided to just continue with what we had been doing. I comforted my tired self with the hope that this would soon pass and the knowledge that he was already growing up so fast and that I would miss these night times with him when he got older. And I was really ok with it.

But then a few weeks ago it got worse. Much much worse.

It's been many months since I have slept more than 4 hours straight through. It has now been several weeks since I have slept two hours or more in a row. I have a constant headache and I am losing my ability to suck it up and function well during the day.

His napping is erratic. I never know whether I will get a blissful two-hour stretch from him or the more common 30 minute power-naps he has become fond of these days. Regardless, I have lost my own ability to sleep on cue when he sleeps during the day - likely due to the coffee I am drinking each morning just to manage.

I can't help but feel that it is my fault somehow - that I am missing something, that I should be doing something differently. I am very consistent with his bedtime routine. I use several cues to let him know it is time to go to bed. And he falls asleep easily. He just doesn't stay that way very long.

I thought maybe it was his teeth, as he does seem really unhappy and uncomfortable every time he wakes. I have tried herbal remedies, homeopathic remedies, massage, and good old-fashioned "baby crack" (aka Tylenol or Advil). I might get one extra hour from this but it doesn't seem to make all that big of a difference.

I have nursed him to sleep. I have not nursed him to sleep. I have rocked, I have bounced, I have begged, I have prayed. I have co-slept. I have not co-slept. I have tried soothing him in his bed without picking him up. I have tried picking him up sooner. Nothing seems to make that big of a difference.

His routine now is that after falling asleep, he sleeps about 2 hours and wakes again. I rock him back to sleep and he sleeps another hour, maybe two if we are super lucky. After that it's pretty much a crap shoot. He wakes roughly every hour, sometimes more often. Often he wants to nurse, but he also just can't seem to get comfortable. Finally, Mr. Spicy takes him about 6am and plays with him, changes him, and feeds him breakfast. After that he might come back to bed with me and sleep another hour to an hour and a half.

I am having a hard time holding it together and remembering that he isn't doing this to me. I know he doesn't want to be waking so often. I know he'd probably love to get a nice full night's sleep. I look into his poor sleepy eyes as he whimpers to me in the middle of the night, and calls out for his "Mama" and I feel terrible that I don't know what to do to help the both of us. I am all out of answers and just too damned tired to find any more.

I know I can't survive like this much longer. I just can't. This is torture.

I know I need to enlist Mr. Spicy to take more night shifts on the weekends. It is painfully obvious to me that I can not do this alone night after night. It's just in the past I haven't been able to sleep when he's stepped in to relieve me. I lie awake wondering if they need me and berating myself for not being able to sleep.

But even with the promise of a "night off" soon....tonight is Tuesday night and the weekend feels so very very far away....

And even a much needed break can't solve the underlying issue: Why can't my baby sleep?

What am I doing wrong here? What am I missing?

and why do I feel so much shame for being the one whose baby doesn't sleep? like it is some mark of mothering ability, to have a child who sleeps soundly through the night?

I feel protective of him. I don't want anyone to think of him as the "bad sleeper", or "difficult". I don't want him to be the subject of others' stories: "Well...I know a baby who still wakes every hour and he's eight months old!"

Sure, when he wakes up for the fourth consecutive time that I try desperately to lay him down and I need to pee and my shoulders are burning - sure, I might have a grumbling thought or two about him - but I don't want that to be what others know of him.

There is just so much else about him that is so much more delightful.

I know I am being somewhat ridiculous. I am not the first to live through this, I will not be the last. I know I am not alone - at least I hope I am not.

So, Mamas out there....please help me out: tell me about your sleepless nights, your exhaustion, your frustration - and maybe even what worked for you.

Maybe I can make it through this season knowing that there are others who are staring and who have stared blearily at the clock praying that their babies will just please go back to sleep and sleep for more than an hour this time. Others who could not imagine getting through one more night, and somehow they did.

In the meantime....back to it for me....

Celebrating the Now

2009-09-14T19:51:00.006-06:00

Tonight Zane laughed with his entire body as he initiated a game of peek-a-boo with us by crouching down in his co-sleeper and then popping up when we asked "Where's Baby Zane?". He was so thoroughly delighted with himself, his excitement was contagious.

Today Zane sat turning a button around and around on his new overalls, his head cocked to one side as if he was wondering, "What does this do?"

Today Zane drummed a wild rhythm on his high chair with his real grown-up drum sticks. He then proceeded to put each one horizontally across his mouth, make "raspberries" and laugh hysterically at himself.

Today Zane crawled all over the house, the ultimate explorer. He tested each surface, each object. Drumming on them to determine their sound and density, pinching them and stroking them to determine their softness or squeezability, and occasionally putting his mouth to them to taste them or to bellow into them. After each test he would look thoughtfully at the object or surface and then occasionally bounce and squeal with glee as if his careful experimentation had yielded the exact results he had hypothesized.

Today Zane bounced, patted his legs, and actually sang along to music. Well, his version of singing anyway. He delighted my soul with his voice.

Today he was ripe with growth, with development, with possibility.

Today I looked into his eyes, and as he looked back I saw a boy that I cannot wait to know more of.

Gosh I love this little monkey.

All this growing and exploring sure is exhausting!!!!

Climbing just out of reach

2009-09-11T21:54:00.003-06:00

I'm in a funk.

It all started last night. I was rushing around trying to get presentable to meet a friend for dinner. Mr. Spicy had just arrived home, greeted Zane and I, and had gone upstairs to change out of his work clothes.

Zane crawled across the living room to follow his Daddy. He crawled to the bottom of the stairs. And then? He began CLIMBING them.

He climbed up, stair by stair, all the way to the top, to find his beloved "DaDa".

We clapped and celebrated with him, this massive accomplishment. I sent out a mass text message to friends and family announcing my son's brilliance.

And then I sank into a weird funk.

There is no way around it. He is growing up.

I am left with so many mixed emotions about this that I might twist myself into a pretzel just trying to get a hold on them all.

I am so so proud of this little boy and I am loving exploring with him, playing with him, getting greater glimpses into who he is, what makes him tick, and watching in amazement as he tackles these great big milestones without a hint of hesitation.

But oh my. I miss my baby. I miss the cuddly, squishy, sweet little one who I could hold for hours. I miss the soft cloud of infant hood that seemed to surround our time together, slowing me down - making time irrelevant. I miss him.

Tonight I mentioned to Mr Spicy that Zane may well be walking by Halloween. His face dropped.

"That makes me sad!"

"I know."

I do. I know that even though his budding independence and mobility are these beautiful, strong, incredible parts of the boy he is becoming, even though I want this for him - I know that he is moving quickly out of my reach....away from me.

As he should. As he should.

But still....

I am just not ready.

I am not ready for this at all.

I want to beg someone to give us more time. The days, the weeks, the months have flown by so fast. How can we be here already? On the verge of our baby walking, on the verge of his running, on the verge of Toddlerhood?

It isn't that this season doesn't hold its own treasures.

It's just that it is all happening so fast.

Too fast.

He is already so many steps ahead of us both.

Already we are just barely keeping up.

The Z Files: Month Six and Seven

2009-09-04T22:23:00.001-06:00

Zane turned seven months old two weeks ago, on the 21st. (The same day I turned 35, actually).

Because I am rarely in the possession of two free hands and time to write, and because I am such a perfectionist and also very wordy - I have not managed to finish a letter here for Zane for month six or seven. So instead, I am hereby switching the "Z-files" formats to a bulleted update / newsletter so I can make sure to get all these milestones recorded. I am writing shorter, more frequent letters to Zane in a private journal. Because I know you were wondering, right?

Since he turned six months old Zane is like a whole new kid. I swear he turned into a "toddler" overnight. I look at him and wonder where my "baby" went. I would be more sad about this except for the fact that he is just so delightfully interactive right now. I have a friend who says about his daughters that every stage was his favorite stage, just as he would think the current "stage" was his favorite, his daughter would enter the next stage and he would find himself newly and equally delighted with this new place. I get this now.

Growth:
-At his six month check up Zane weighed 18lbs5oz and he was 28.25 inches "tall". He was in the 93rd percentile for height but had dropped to the 50th percentile for weight. Lean and tall. He has definitely grown more in the last month but I haven't measured him. He is fitting mostly 12 month clothing now.

Physical Development / Mobility:
- By six months he was regularly sitting up on his own and actively crawling.
- By seven months he was crawling with speed and he was regularly pulling himself up on any surface available, including our pant legs.
-The last two weeks he has been taking little steps while holding onto something and is standing while supporting himself with one hand.
-He makes his way all over the house this way, crawling, pulling up, stepping along, sitting back down, crawling some more. I am both immensely proud and a little dismayed by all this mobility. My cuddly baby is now constantly on the move and exploring and I miss when I could hold him for hours at a time. It makes me appreciate our cuddle-time before bed all the more though!
-As a result of the constant pulling up and (in the beginning) constant falling, Zane has learned to brace himself and catch himself when he feels he is falling. He went from multiple daily head "bonks" to almost none in just a week's time.
-He is really good with his hands and loves to turn things over and over and try to figure them out. He picks up balls and puts them in the holes of one of his toys, he drums on everything and loves playing his little piano or shaking his tambourine. He loves pushing buttons and pulling on things.
-He is crazy strong and has almost ripped the toys right out of his exersaucer (especially that bee who won't come out of her beehive - what is up with her?!).
-He gives us quite the formidable wrestling matches over changing time and being strapped into his high chair. I have had to come up with songs for his car seat, changing time, getting in the stroller, and sitting in the high chair. Once I sing the song he calms down and becomes more accommodating - otherwise it's pretty much like trying to wrestle a wild greased piglet. :)

Verbal Development:
- In the last two months we have heard the steady progression of Zane's vocal expression. It began with chattering repetitively: "bababababa", "lalalalalalal", "nnnnnnnaaaaaaahhhhh", and has developed into more consistent meaningful sounds: "Dadadada", "Hiiiii!", and "MMMMMaaaaaahhhh Mmmmmaaaaaahhhhh". Oh and then there's the "rasberries" and the high pitched excited scream, and the high pitched happy chattering, and the groaning and mumbling to himself and always the ever present laughter. I think his favorite "word" to say is "Dada" - he repeats it throughout the day, especially when he is happy and playing. And I can ask him "where is Dada?" and he will look for his Daddy. He mostly says "Mmmmmaaaaaahhhhh" for me when he is tired, sad, or hurt. But the other day, about a week ago, he was playing and he turned and smiled at me and clear as a bell pronounced: "MaMa!". I am pretty sure I passed out from sheer delight at that moment.

- He also knows sign language for "all done" and he will shake his head "No" when he doesn't want something (like more food, when Mama is begging him to take "just one more bite"!)

Eating:
- At five months he began eating rice cereal and while it wasn't a total hit, he happily ate it every night for dinner until he was six months old.
-At six months we began adding "solid foods". We began with banana. And he really seemed to love this new development. Slowly we introduced new foods every 3 days or so and all was well. I have been making all his baby food except for just one or two foods I choose to buy premade. I get so excited to introduce him to a new food, I love that moment when he first tastes it, contemplates it and then opens his mouth for more. Of course there have been a few duds (zucchini is not his favorite) but for the most part he has gladly eaten his way through every new introduction.
- At seven months I increased his meals from two to three daily and began creating more combinations, and adding spices and herbs, while still introducing new foods to his menu.
-So far his favorite single food is peaches, by a landslide. That boy can eat an entire peach (pureed of course) in one meal! Of course, anyone who has tasted Colorado peaches this time of year can understand this.
-His favorite "meal" is sweet potatoes mixed with pear and apple purees, millet, and a touch of nutmeg. I have a hunch he's going to love Thanksgiving time.
-Oh, and sippy cups! He loves drinking water from them. He hasn't taken a bottle willingly in many months, but he loves his sippy cups! Last night Mr. Spicy was even able to put him to bed by giving him breast milk in a sippy cup. Oh the possibilities!!!!
- And we can't forget to mention nursing! He is still breastfeeding with gusto. He loves to nurse and will often crawl over to me and cup one of my breasts with his hands as he burrows his face into it. He also frequently just blatantly tries to latch on through my shirt and bra in public. Good times! :) It is obvious that nursing is so much about comfort for him now. He wants to nurse when he is tired, when he has hurt himself, when he is in pain from gas or teething. I am so proud of us both that we have made it this far and are still going strong. I see his hunger being met more steadily by food and I know we are on the downslope. I can see in the distance a day when we do not connect this way and I can hardly imagine it. I will definitely miss this. He has been a champion nurser since mere hours after his birth. It is so hard to believe some day he just won't need this anymore.

Sleeping:
-Ouch. Well, sleeping has been......a challenge for us lately. At six months he was on a pretty steady routine. He would fall asleep quickly at about 8pm and he would wake twice for brief nursing sessions in the middle of the night, and then wake up for good around 6am. This worked ok for me. He was never awake for very long and he usually spent the last stretch of the night in bed with us.
- but then....there was teething, and gas, and god knows what. The last month or so has been a complete crapshoot. He will follow his old routine for a few nights and then randomly mix it up on us for a few nights or a week at a time. Sometimes he falls asleep really early, sometimes he stays up really late, sometimes he has a hard time falling asleep (really unusual for him), sometimes he has a hard time staying asleep (one night he continually woke up each time I would lay him down - seven times in a row, only to immediately fall back to sleep when I picked him up), sometimes he wakes up crazy early. We just never know anymore.
-So initially I fretted, I read and researched, and I berated myself for my failure to get him to sleep with regularity. And I became a miserable grumpy person and felt like I was going to explode any time he didn't sleep according to my plans and efforts. And it sucked. So one day I decided to scrap all my "efforts" and just go with the flow. I accepted that he is still a baby, that before long I won't get these night time cuddles with him, and I will miss them. I began to just understand and expect that he would wake up in the middle of the night. And although there are still those nights where I feel like crawling out of my skin for lack of sleep - for the most part, changing my own perspective on it has helped immensely. I am much more happy to help him fall back asleep when he wakes up and I can find much more tenderness for the both of us when we have had a rough night together. I do think he is about to finally cut a tooth or two and I think that is a large part of his waking, and I also think he is having such a huge spurt of development that it is also making him somewhat restless. I just keep telling myself that this is a stage, it will get better, we will get through this. He will sleep through the night eventually. (right?)

Miscellaneous:
-Zane loves to play. He actually plays now. Pulling out toys from his bin, choosing the ones he wants, exploring and manipulating them. The musical ones seem to be his favorites.
- He has a real sense of music already. He drums on things, slaps his knees to music and bounces along as he "dances". We begin a music class in a week and I am really excited to see how he will respond.
-He loves playing "peek-a-boo" with us, loves when we pretend to "get him", and loves being tickled. He laughs riotously when we dance for him or move around like dinosaurs or robots.
-He LOVES dogs! He screams in delight as they pass us on our daily walks.
- He also loves playing with water, from a hose, in the sink, in the tub - he just is fascinated by it.
-We spend our days going for walks around the park, to the coffee shop, around lakes with friends, going to the zoo, grocery shopping, playing in the grass (Zane loves the grass!) and exploring the house.

And one of my favorite moments in the last month (besides the "Mama" moment of course): He was crawling around the living room and I crawled after him pretending to "get him" by nipping his bottom and legs. He laughed so hard he almost fell over. And then, he began to turn around and crawl after me, opening his mouth and "getting me". It was an amazing moment. My baby was a little boy in that moment. The little boy I look forward to playing with for years and years to come. I caught a glimpse of our future together and it made my whole heart explode. He is my boy, my little boy.

We have so much to look forward to.

Seven

2009-08-25T15:15:00.004-06:00

Yesterday was our seventh wedding anniversary. Whew.

Some people say the seventh year is the hardest. There is a rumor, not sure how accurate, about how most divorces occur around the seven year mark. I know of at least one marriage that dissolved on that timeline. And then there's the "Seven Year Itch" and all that.

But we made it. Today is day one of year eight. Eight's always been a lucky number for me.

It is not that I am entirely surprised we made it, but I am relieved. This has been by far the hardest year of our marriage. The year where I understood at a very frightening level why so many marriages don't make it.

But it has paradoxically also been the most blessed and fruitful year of our marriage. The year where I understood better than ever why "we" work and wanted more than ever for us to make it.

We grew so much this year, we faced so many parts of each other and ourselves that were painful and sometimes ugly. We cried. We screamed. We threatened and we ran.

But we also held each other and held onto each other. We fought for one another. We loved and fell in love more deeply. We welcomed our son into the world and loved him with all of our hearts. We became a family. We weathered a long and difficult labor together, we continue to endure sleepless nights and exhaustion together. We have grieved together and rejoiced together. We have learned not to take ourselves too seriously. We have laughed till we cried. We have come out stronger and better for it, together.

This year my husband held me while I swayed and moaned and sweated and yelled, laboring to birth our son. As he held me, as I buried my head in his neck, the smell of him took me somewhere deeply comforting and safe. Somewhere soft and strong. Even now, so many months later I can recall that sensory memory and crawl right back into it, into that smell, that safety, that warmth, that knowledge that right there in that moment nothing could harm us, nothing could separate us. There, where I could rest. Even in the midst of the hardest work I would ever do - in him, in his presence, I could rest.

Last night I made a picnic for us. We dropped Zane at a friend's house and headed for the park. It was raining as we walked with our picnic in hand but we didn't hurry. We made our way to a spot under a tree where the rain was just barely sprinkling through the branches. We ate leftovers in the park while we looked into each other's eyes and talked about the year. More than any expensive dinner, more than any exotic romantic vacation, that moment (like the moment in labor) seemed filled with the essence of "us" and I was grateful for the simple presence of my husband eating on a blanket with me. I was grateful like you would be for water on a hot dry summer afternoon when you have walked a very long long way.

Before we even began "trying" to become parents we had "those" discussions. The ones where you wonder how you will fit a kid in your already busy and hectic lives. You wonder what will give and whether you'll be ok with the compromise. Back then I would hope out loud that parenthood would help us to distill our lives, prioritize, and simplify. I hoped that we would find ourselves taking time for the things that really matter and letting the rest go. I hoped it would slow us down in a good way.

Last night was conformation that my hopes had been realized. We didn't have to try so hard. We didn't have to over-analyse. Things did not need to be "just-so" in order for us to connect and find romance and luxury. A damp picnic in the park, surrounded by hungry geese was enough.

More than enough.

Happy Anniversary Mr. Spicy, I love you more now than I did when I married you and I cannot wait to share more of this life with you. I am grateful for you with all of my heart and soul. Thank you.

(a photo of us together at hour six of my labor)

Grief observed

2009-08-16T12:03:00.003-06:00

My dog, our dog, of 14 years passed away yesterday morning.

Her name was Sativa and she saved me, protected me, and guided me through the last 13+ years. I owe her a proper eulogy but right now I cannot manage it. My grief and her absence is too heavy.

She had been declining in health, having trouble with her hips and hind legs. But until three days ago she was still very much herself. She was tired but she was with us. Then on Thursday she began having trouble with her breathing and stopped eating and we had to carry her out to the yard. Friday morning she lost control of her bowels and her breathing became harsher.

We rushed her to the vet's office. At the hospital where I worked for five years, where she spent so many days at work with me. Where she was once a blood donor for other dogs in critical condition. Now it was her turn. On the way to the hospital her breathing became more labored and she lost control of her bowels again. This time there was blood in her stool.

The staff carried her in. She was placed on oxygen. The radiographs showed pneumonia in her left lung. The blood work showed a urinary infection, possibly involving her kidneys. With the doctor's advice we decided to transfer to a hospital more equipped to provide ongoing oxygen therapy and monitor her condition.

A dear friend of 12 years, who I went to school with to be a veterinary nurse and who I worked with those five years and who has been a beloved "auntie" to Sativa for all of these years, joined me at the hospital and helped me transport Sativa while Mr. Spicy took Zane out shopping for toys.

On the way to the hospital, she began crashing and I was sure we had lost her. But then she rallied and came back to us. After arriving at the hospital, we agreed to oxygen therapy, antibiotics and fluids, and anything to make her more comfortable and decided to take a couple of hours to eat and talk about our decisions. We returned around 8pm and she seemed a bit better. She was more alert, more "present", her fever had decreased, and she drank a few small sips of water from me.

We had returned thinking we would surely need to make the decision to let her go. But it seemed she was making an effort to fight her infections and we wanted to give her the benefit of 24 hours treatment to see if she indeed had enough strength left in her to come through it.

I sat with her and told her how loved she was, that she was the best dog ever, that I wanted her to rest, and to do what she needed to do. I assured her that her family was ok, she didn't need to worry about any of us, to just do what she needed to do for herself. I told her I would be back in the morning and that I was so sorry I had to go. There was no way we could take her home as she really needed the oxygen at that point. And not only do they not allow overnight visitation, but I needed to be home with our baby.

The Dr. called at midnight. No changes, but she wasn't doing worse. I called in the morning. Again, no changes, her oxygen levels were steady, even without oxygen supplementation, but she was pretty out of it. I prepared to go visit her, trying to get Zane fed and taken care of for the morning. The Dr. called. Now she seemed to be going downhill again. She was not responsive, she had edema (swelling) in her face and limbs. I agreed to running bloodwork again to find out what was going on with her internally at this point. I got off the phone and hurridly tried to finish preparations to go see her. The Dr. called again.

"We tried to draw blood, and she stopped breathing. Her heart stopped. I am so sorry."

I will never completely be able to forgive myself for not being there for her in her final moments. The guilt is overwhelming. Although a wise friend, her Dr. of 10 years who was on a family vacation in the Grand Canyon and still communicating with me via text, email, and phone through all of this, commented that he believed she was "taking care of us through the end" and that he believed we "did it right, and so did she". I cannot help but feel that I let her down. When she needed me.

My only comfort is that she was not in pain and seemed to go peacefully, on her own. I just wish with all my heart I could have held her in those final moments. Now there is nothing I can do to make it right.

The grief feels like it could fill our house and overflow into the street in a flood of tears. But there is someone watching me. Someone who does not understand and who needs to know I am here for him. Someone who needs my smiles. Someone who requires that I let go of the sadness and play with him and respond to his rasberries and his chattering.

And so I do. I tuck away my broken heart and I learn to grieve in the small moments away from him and in the quiet of the night when he is captivated by dreaming.

I am living a life and a grief observed.

And it kind of sucks. I don't want to be away from my son. I don't want to let him down or confuse him. But right now I wish I could hit "pause" on being a mother.

Sativa was my "baby" for over a decade. And now she is gone. I feel it everywhere - her absence. I desperately want to curl up in a ball, hide my head under a blanket and sob for days. I want to concentrate on creating some ritual to honor her life and how she gave it so abundantly to us. I want to allow myself to be consumed in my sadness.

But I can't. And I won't. At least not all at once.

I hope wherever she is, she understands.

She mothered us all so well. She stayed so strong for us, up until the very end.

Something tells me she must understand.

Good-bye dear, strong, beautiful Sativa. I miss you more than I can ever say. You left a hole that can never be filled. A part of me goes with you where you are. I will always always love you.

Best $6 I have ever spent (aka: "I suck at blogging, here's some cute pictures of my baby!")

2009-08-07T08:55:00.004-06:00

About a month ago we were walking through a store and I spotted these big plastic drink tubs on sale. I plopped one on the floor, sat Zane inside and decided this would be a great new bathtub for him. Since then, we have bathed him just about every night (usually outside on our deck) in his new tub and he loves it. It also works great as a place for him to just sit and play in an inch or two of water while we hang outside.

After all the expensive baby gadgets we have bought it is nice to find that six dollars can go so far! And while I stall on writing his six month letter, writing about our adventures in making baby food, our visits with family, and general updatey sorts of things....here are a bunch of photos for those of you who are into those sorts of things. (you know who you are)

Rice Cereal: A story in pictures

2009-07-06T08:30:00.001-06:00

We planned to start Zane on rice cereal on Father's Day, which was also his 5 month birthday. But I ended up in the ER that day, so we pushed it back a day. He has now been eating rice cereal mixed with breast milk, every night for two weeks and he loves it! But it didn't start out that way:

Hmmm....this is odd, wonder why they have me sitting up here.

What are you mixing up there, Mama? Can I have some?

Wait a minute! I was just kidding!

Seriously NOT impressed.

Why are you doing THIS again?

Maybe it tastes better straight from the bowl?

Or from a cup! What a great idea!

Gulp...Gulp....Gulp

Aaaaaaaahhhhhhh........

Ok. Maybe I was quick to judge. I will try the spoon again. Bring it on.

So far so good.

I can't believe I almost missed out on this! Hurry up Mama!

kthx! I will take it from here! Bye Bye!

And the rest is history......

The Z Files: Month Five

2009-07-05T20:56:00.000-06:00

Dear Zane,

I am ~~a week~~ two weeks late getting this written. And although I want to believe otherwise, I am fairly certain that by the time you are old enough to read these letters and appreciate them, you will not be asking why it took your mother ~~a full week~~ two full weeks to finally get your letter written, but rather how she managed to get it done only ~~one~~ two weeks late. I am working on this kiddo, but something tells me it's a lifelong lesson for me.

But you! There is so much to write about you!

You are still generally the happiest baby I have ever known. From the moment you awake each morning, you are full of smiles. And although most mornings start much earlier than I would prefer (you are still working on the whole sleeping-through-the-night gig), the way you absolutely beam at your father and I when you open your eyes makes every morning our own private little party with you. But you don't save the smiles just for us. Oh no. You are generous with these treasures. Everywhere we go, you smile at just about everyone you meet, the only exception being the rare moments you are overtired. You actually seem to work at charming people. You try to catch their eyes, and then boom you floor them with your smile. And everywhere we go, people are just drawn to you. I find myself surrounded by cooing women at grocery stores on a regular basis. It's the "Zane show" all day, every day. And I could not be more proud. You seriously might have a future in politics if you keep this up, kid. You even won the heart of a two-year old girl at a restaurant recently. She was so captivated by you that she spontaneously leaned forward and kissed you! I am beginning to fear your teen years if this is any predictor of what's to come.

You are really affectionate. You regularly grab our faces and move in to dive-bomb us with a big slobbery baby kiss. You hold on to us, almost hugging us, as we hold you. You pat my back gently just as I pat yours to comfort you. You grab the fat on the backs of our arms with a little vice-like baby grip and pull yourself closer to us. And the absolute kicker? When you lie in bed between us, you reach each arm out to touch each of us. You want to be in contact with us as much as possible and you are never happier than when both your dad and I are cuddled up next to you together. This is something I hold so dear about you and I really hope is always a part of you. I hope you never lose your ability to be openly affectionate and loving with your family and those you love. You have caused our hearts to break open with your tenderness and we are so much better for it.

You are also incredibly physical and active. Of course, you still love your jumper and are launching yourself in the air as if you believe you might be able to fly if you just push a little harder off of the floor next time. And, you are not fully crawling yet, but that doesn't mean you aren't mobile! You have perfected your ability to roll in either direction with speed and purpose, and you have developed your own scooching, inch-worm/army crawl. You also are quick to propel yourself off of any surface by pushing off on your legs with all your might. It is truly amazing we have not had to make another ER visit yet. Also, at the end of this month, you spontaneously began sitting up and being able to balance on your own like this for a few minutes at a time. It's been really exciting to watch you tackle this milestone. You seem so proud of yourself and you concentrate so hard on keeping your balance. You seem to love the challenge of it.

You are a determined little one. Whether you are in the jumper, or on the floor, or being held - you have a knack for finding a way to get to whatever you want. You are the definition of perseverance. You just do not give up when you see a toy, a book, or random objects you'd like to get your little fists around. I love watching the concentration in your eyes as you try to figure out how you will get to what you want and I love watching how happy you are with yourself when you achieve your goal.

You lead the way more and more each day. I want to read, research, learn how to do this the "right way", without mistakes. But your presence, your exuberance for life, your eagerness demands that I turn away from the books and the internet and simply face you (and sometimes, just in time to grab your leg before you launch yourself off the couch face-first). And so I do. I face you, I look into your eyes, and together we figure out what comes next.

One of my favorite memories from this month is a walk we took together in the rain. It has rained nearly every day in the last few weeks. One afternoon, we were home together as the clouds rolled in. I watched the sky turn grey and the drops begin to fall. I wondered how we would fill our afternoon. You had already had some "jumper-time" and time on the floor with your toys. We had read books. We had sang. We had danced. What would we do now? I looked at you and the answer came to me. I carried you outside and we felt the wind blow on our cheeks and felt the first droplets fall on our heads and arms. No one else was out. It felt like our own private world. I grabbed the umbrella, put you in the Ergo, and we went for a slow walk in the rain around our neighborhood. The streets were quiet. The flowers in bloom. The leaves wet and dripping. We looked up at the trees, we knelt down to look at flowers. We inhaled the smell of the rain. The world was ours and I was filled with gratitude for it and for you.

I am continually shocked at how much you teach me about being alive, being in the moment, and being a mother. And when I can't find the answer simply by watching you and listening to my heart, you make me want to get the answer - whatever it takes - the answer that will help me be the best Mama I can. Because you deserve that and a great deal more.

I love seeing the world through your eyes. You are delightful little man. Completely delightful. I am so glad you are my son, and I am your Mama. I love you so much.

Love,
Mama

"To beat as my own heart"

2009-06-26T10:06:00.003-06:00

I recently read this post and this one, (by an amazing blogger known as Her Bad Mother) and I wept with the familiarity. Though she is much further down this road than I am, and has already said so many more good-byes, she is foreshadowing the storm I can already feel brewing in my heart. And it scares me.

The storm within me that is my knowing that my heart must let go, must let my little boy grow up a little more every day, a bit more every week, and a lot more every month. That he will. That he has already, so much. That I have already said good-bye to more pieces of him than I can fathom in these five short months. And it doesn't look like it is going to get any easier any time soon.

The baby who sucks on his lips and laughs so easily, the boy who pats me on the back when I hold him close, the infant who clutches at my arms and pinches me like a crab to pull me closer. The bouncing, jumping, already exploring, chubby legged little cherub. I want to hold him here forever. I want to....

"just hold on and breathe him in and pretend that we are still two pieces of one body, that I could, if I wanted to, press him back into my chest to beat as my own heart."

She says it so much more eloquently than I can. As I read her words, I find my own heart speaking to me through them.

How do we do this as mothers? How do we hold on, breathe them in, remember, and then let go? I know we must. But how? How do we survive it?

Do I even deserve to call myself a blogger anymore?

2009-06-25T19:47:00.004-06:00

Geez it is hard to blog these days!

Between Zane hitting the age where he is somewhat mobile, excited to explore his environment, and in need of almost constant interaction and my recent health issues (I will get to that in just a sec) - it's been....crazy.

Being a full-time mom is by far the hardest, most consuming, most challenging role I have ever had. Just when I think I am finding my rhythm, something shifts and I feel totally out of my league again. Please tell me I am not the only one who had a hard time finding her Momma groove?

It's the managing of my/our time, the neverending to-do lists, the necessary organization, the "doing" of motherhood that I keep struggling with. The loving of my son (and oh how I love him!) , the snuggling, the taking walks in the rain? Those, I revel in. Those are easy. Those are the moments I get out of bed for every day.

And he is totally worth every second of it. Of course.

Health issues. Well.

So, I have had several "episodes" in the last few months. I thought they were back spasms. I would feel pain radiating up my sternum and around to my back and then my entire back would sieze up and I would be completely imobilized with pain for 5-10 minutes. I have been seeing my chiropractor and massage therapist to get some relief.

Ha. Well. This weekend I had another "episode". Only this time it did not get better. It didn't go away, it just kept getting more and more painful. I tried standing in a hot shower, I tried icing my back. I moaned and breathed through the pain as if I was in labor. It was honestly right up there with back labor if not worse. Finally, after an hour of this - when I could no longer feel my extremities and I could barely walk - we headed to the ER.

Long, painful, story later.....I have gallstones. I was having a major gall bladder attack. It took 4 IV injections of Dilaudid to manage the pain. There was talk of needing to remove my gall bladder immediately if they could not get the pain under control. Thank goodness that didn't have to happen.

I was discharged on a super-strict no/low fat diet and told to follow up with my primary and a surgeon. I have those appointments scheduled next week so we will see how they go. The diet sucks but if it keeps me from having another attack, I will do it as long as I need to. Of course, adding these new guidelines to my already gluten-free diet means I am ridiculously restrictive in my eating.

I am anxious about surgery for several reasons: a) surgery! b) removal of an organ!, and c) Zane is not taking bottles at this point, so ensuring he is fed while I am out of commission for the surgery and getting the drugs out of my system, is problematic. He will take a couple of ounces from a sippy cup (or a small regular cup for that matter), and he eats his rice cereal mixed with breast milk like it is going out of style, but I worry he won't eat enough. Also? My breasts HATE the breast pump and I can usually only pump 2 oz or so in a sitting, and! my milk goes sour in the freezer for some reason. Literally every bag of frozen milk I have warmed up is bad, really bad. So....in order to have surgery I have to somehow have several bags of freshly pumped milk ready and I have to have convinced Zane that the bottle and sippy cup are not his enemies. That doesn't feel daunting at all.

So. We'll see what the doctors say and go from there, I guess.

Also? This all happened on Mr. Spicy's very first Father's Day. Poor guy, it really sucked for him. I promised him a Father's Day do-over.

And then, on top of all this, I went and had a major fall yesterday in Boulder. I was walking with Zane in the Ergo on my chest, carrying take-out food for myself and a friend. And - bam! In my efforts not to fall on Zane (I was successful, thank goodness) - I ended up landing on my knee and elbow. I ripped my pants wide open and received nasty scrapes and bruises on my knee and elbow. Today I am still pretty sore and feel like I was hit by a truck. Ugh.

SO. That's what's going on in my world.

And in the time it took me to write this post, my little houdini unswaddled himself three times and woke himself up with his wild arms. He loves being swaddled to sleep, but then he pulls his arms out and he can't sleep like that. Anyone else have this issue? Any suggestions???

Ok, I'd better get off to bed myself. More posts to come soon. I am running behind on Zane's monthly letter (he turned 5 months on Father's Day) and I haven't written about his adventures in eating cereal (I have lots of pictures too!), so I have some writing to do.

The Beauty of the Rain

2009-06-07T22:10:00.004-06:00

It is mid-afternoon, but the light streaming through the window blinds is dim and grey. It is raining and the familiar smell of rain fills the room as the sound of the heavy drops hitting the roof and the street outside comes through the open window like a thousand tiny drums.

I am curled up on my side, Zane is nestled against my chest, his head just below mine. We are breathing in tandem as he sleeps, his angel face pressed against me, and I read.

I stop and breathe in the smell of him, I feel the weight of his head on my arm, the warmth of his skin against mine. I stop and take notice of the light, the smell of the rain, the staccato drum beats. I stop and say, "Thank you" to Whomever is listening.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Baby Kisses

2009-06-06T21:51:00.003-06:00

Maybe it's because I am always kissing him like crazy (who could blame me?), but lately I swear Zane is kissing me back!

He grabs hold of my hair, my cheeks, my neck, my ears - whatever will give him the best handhold - and he pulls my face towards his (or vice versa), and with his open slobbery mouth plants a big wet kiss on me. It is the sweetest thing ever and I never ever want to forget his little face as he stands on my lap and looks down at me with his bright little baby eyes looking into mine, ready to make his move.

I don't know how much more my heart can take.

How do you do it???

2009-06-05T11:45:00.003-06:00

Never have I had more I wanted to write about, more I've wanted to document, more I have wanted to express.

And yet? I simply cannot find the time most days. If I am not busy with the munchkin, I am busy with something else - like oh....showering, laundry, sleeping, cleaning, trying to return a phone call or an email - or spending quality time with the husband.

So - you blogging mamas out there, I am curious - how do you do it? How do you manage to find time to get a few words down in between everything else?

I feel like such a slacker!

Our six month four month check-up

2009-05-28T11:26:00.005-06:00

I have so much I should write about:
- my first Mother's Day
- our first "date" without Zane
- our first roadtrip with the little guy
- the crazy violent nightmares I am having

the list goes on....

But I will stop and take a breath and document our four month well-baby visit that happened yesterday:

Zane is squarely in the 90th percentile across the board, coming in at 17.1 pounds and 26 inches.

The doctor said "He is the size of a six month old and has the development of a six month old and he's smiling at me like a six month old! He was born two months late!"

I laughed at that, but it feels pretty on the mark, Zane has always "felt" like an older baby to me. Maybe he's "an old soul", who knows. I just think he's amazing.

We got permission to start rice cereal if we want to, in the doctors words, "It won't hurt him, but he'd be fine without it too." He basically said if I want a break from constant nursing go ahead and introduce it. So - we're thinking about it. I have a box of organic brown rice cereal and baby spoons. I have been feeling for a while he might be ready for something a little more "hearty", but I am going to wait till I feel really good about going forward with it. Mama instincts and all.

We also gave him his first vaccine yesterday. We delayed the start of vaccinations and are following an extremely modified vaccination schedule. And to avoid beginning a huge debate I will just leave it at that for now. If you want to know my reasoning behind our choices I would be happy to share, but suffice to say that I did my research, I talked with our Dr., and then I listened internally for what felt right to me - which was agonizing and is still something I am learning to do. As our Dr. so eloquently stated yesterday, (and I paraphrase) "There is no choice that carries zero risks, what is important is how you feel about the choice you are making and that you are honest with yourself about the risks you are taking and feeling ok taking those risks."

I am finding that so much of parenting lies in this grey area where I must make a choice, without any assurance of making "the one right choice", and then I must embrace that choice and stand in it - honest about who I am as a mother and what I am doing. Talk about a crash course in confidence!

Anyway, Zane did great with his one shot - he cried briefly which broke my heart to pieces, and he seemed a little sore in that leg last night but otherwise completely fine. I, on the otherhand, still feel traumatized a bit by it. I am such a wimp when it comes to him.

On that note....I had better get going, my ~~six month~~ four month old is asking me to play. And who could resist this face?

Time Management

2009-05-22T00:42:00.001-06:00

I have to admit, I am not great at time management, especially not when it involves routines and schedules. I get bored. I am a life-long procrastinator and tend to manage my life in sprints and lulls rather than predictable, measured, walks and jogs.

But, it seems this too must change.

There is no procrastination with babies. There is only now. NOW. This moment. There is no promise of another moment, in the future, later...to do this thing, to go that place. Nope. Because that moment, that moment is completely unpredictable. Who knows whether that moment is the one that will hold the toxic diaper blow-out, the projectile spit-up, the unanticipated nap, the unanticipated lack of a nap, the baby who needs to be held, or all of the above.

So, I am trying. I am learning to carpe diem and all that. I am also learning to bring more order to my days and weeks through, (gulp), schedules and routines. And honestly, I like it. I am just not great at it.

All it takes is a week of being awakened every two hours and boom! I find myself disheveled, sitting in my three-days-unshowered filth and feeling like I live in a cave - promising myself I will take a shower....tomorrow. In fact, that is how I spent most of last week. Each day wondering if I was the only one to have sunk to this level so repeatedly, wondering what had happened to the energetic mama I seemed to have been a month before.

But this week I promised myself things would be different. I seized the opportunity to shower in the morning before Mr. Spicy left for work, instead of lying in bed counting how few hours of sleep I managed the night before and hoping Zane would fall back to sleep in a few minutes so I could steal another hour or two. Sure, maybe I still crawled back into bed on occasion, napping a precious hour or two with my deliciously snuggly little babe, but at least I had showered that day! And I began mapping the week. Monday: yoga day, Tuesday: errands, Wednesday: walk to the coffee shop and hang out there, and that's as far as I have gotten. I will make Thu or Fri a zoo day (we just became members and I am SO excited), and we'll probably make the other day some sort of activity as well (maybe a music class, or a playdate, or gardening!). I am trying to find a planned reason to leave the house every single day for just a couple of hours. This way I don't slip too far into cave-land, Zane gets out and gets some stimulation, and we still have plenty of time to hang out at home for a long nap, house cleaning, and just general necessary down-time.

Sounds like I have it figured out, huh? If only it were that easy! The hard part for me is going the distance, sticking to the plan week after week. And yet, with no plan - mayhem ensues. So, I am trying this out. I'll try to remember to let you know how it turns out.

What about you moms out there? What had to change for you in terms of time management? Did you have to become more organized? Let go of rigid routines? Did you find a routine or schedule that really worked for you and your child?

And you mommies-to-be....what do you anticipate needing to change for you?

The Z Files: Month Four

2009-05-21T08:38:00.001-06:00

Dear Zane,

Here we are. Month four. You are one third of the way through your first year. And it bears repeating that it is all still going by way too fast for your mama here.

There were more than a dozen moments this month where I caught myself laughing at myself for my big speech to you in last month's letter about how "it's ok to cry", etc. etc. Sadly, you showed us this month that you are perfectly aware of that fact and you know exactly when and under what circumstances you feel crying should commence. In fact, as I was doing some final editing of last month's letter, you began teething in earnest and I was afraid my happy, laughing little munchkin had all but disappeared.

Thankfully, that was not the case. You have had more than a few fussy nights due to teething and gas and possibly being ready for something a bit more substantial than breast milk (more on this later) - but you still dazzle us daily with your smile and you save a few tears up for those laughs that literally make your eyes water.

You have also cried a few times when confronted by a loud noise, a deep voice, or your own sad face in the mirror (you had just bonked your head on your swing). Your cries are mercifully short, but nonetheless heart wrenching. So I am glad to report that you are seemingly moving back into a more jovial season as your fourth month comes to a close.

New this month: rolling over! Here's the thing though. You mastered the art of rolling over in one day, did it multiple times in a row as we cheered you on, and then? Eh, not so much. You have not rolled over again. You seem to be over rolling and instead moving on to the fine art of the pre-crawl "scootch". Yes, you are already moving arms and legs in a determined fashion, scootching across a blanket on the floor to reach a treasured toy. Leaving your mama and papa in wide mouthed amazement, I should add.

Speaking of toys. You have discovered toys this month. To be fair though, anything within grabbing distance has become a possible "toy". Today you grabbed a pen right out of my hand as I was writing. Your favorite toy is probably your stuffed puppy rattle. You like to nurse on its nose and clasp it tightly to your chest. You also shake it and toss it and I gladly fetch it and return it to you.

You also love your doorway jumper. You stand in it, bounce in it, and walk yourself in circles in it. Today you stood in it and stared in amazement as the dogs laid just out of your reach. But you still tried reaching for them and walked yourself in their direction as far as you could, calling out to them. It was really sweet to watch. I think it might be the first time you really noticed them as other beings you could relate to.

Things no longer in your favor? Bottles, and to a lesser extent, pacifiers. Yep. We let you go too long without a bottle feeding and you have officially decided you are done with them. This has been really distressing for your daddy. He puts you to bed on Wednesday nights while I am out and you have just completely rejected his attempts to bottle-feed you. This results in one very stressed out papa and you going to bed hungry. I even went out and bought you a fancy bottle made to resemble a breast. Nope. There is no fooling you. So, I decided skip the bottle altogether. I dug out a sippy-cup we received as a gift when you were born, filled it with breast milk, and voila! You aren't exactly gulping it down, but you are willing to take several sips from it which seems to satiate your hunger just enough to allow you and Daddy to have a peaceful and enjoyable night together and I am not worrying about you going to bed hungry. You are also just about done with pacifiers as well, which is not as big of an issue but makes me a little sad for some reason. You just seem to be growing up so fast little man!

You are waking up a lot at night lately and it seems to be just hunger that is waking you. You generally wake, eat, and drift back to sleep. Although there have been a couple rare nights when your face lit up in the middle of the night and you decided it was party-time! For the most part, you are just eating a lot, all day, all night. Which, paired with the teething, the rejection of the bottle and acceptance of the sippy cup, the grabbing, the fascination you have with anything we are eating these days, and the fact that you are one big kiddo (18 pounds last time I checked) leads me to thinking it may be time to start you on something more substantial - like FOOD. Yikes! I swore I would wait till 6 months to start you on solids, because I have a pretty significant food sensitivity. But, once again - being your mama means letting go of my own preconceived ideas about how things "should" go. My instincts are telling me to feed you. I think I have to listen to that.

So, next month's letter will probably be all about eating and food, and what you like to eat and what you hate to eat, and what babyfood looks like splattered all over our dining room walls. I sort of can't wait!

Last but not least, we took you on your first official road trip this month!!! Your daddy's birthday and Mother's Day fell on the same weekend, so we packed up and headed down to one of our favorite places on earth: Taos, NM. We stayed at a Bed and Breakfast and you so charmed the owners that they offered us free babysitting if we would just bring you back. It was a bit of a long trip, too long I think - but you handled it like a champ and I think you even slept better there than you do at home! Of course you got to sleep in your favorite spot, between Mama and Papa, all night long, so that may have had something to do with it. I loved introducing you to this special place for us and I can't wait to bring you back when you get a little older. I also really loved getting that time away, just the three of us, a family. There were no chores to be argued over, no "to do lists" to make, just us enjoying being together, resting, reconnecting, finding our own ways. It was magical and it made me want to run away somewhere with you and your daddy. I am already looking forward to our next family trip.

What else can I say? You continue to be an incredible source of joy and wonder in our lives. I am a better person because you are here, I love being your mother and cannot think of anywhere I would rather be than where I am at right now. I love you with more of my heart than I ever knew existed and I just fall more in love each day. Thank you again for making me a mother, your mother. Thank you for being our son. Our sun.

With love as deep as the ocean,
Mama

Happy 36th Mr. Spicy!

2009-05-08T00:01:00.000-06:00

We have come through quite a bit in the last year and our focus has been almost singularly on Zane. So, in honor of Mr. Spicy's 36th birthday I would like to shift the focus to him and list 36 things I love about this man, in no particular order.

1. He continues to rescue stray cats and kittens who become stranded in our backyard, sometimes bringing them food or water, even though this has backfired on him in the past and ended up costing us a small fortune.

2. He can talk to anyone and when he asks people how they are, he really wants to know the answer.

3. He is already an amazing dad. Better than I could have ever hoped for. Zane is one lucky little boy.

4. When we travel to Spanish-speaking countries or just to the corner taqueria, he boldly speaks what Spanish he knows while I am still silently trying to parse together an acceptable and grammatically correct sentence for fear of sounding like an idiot.

5. I brought a cat and a dog into our marriage and he has always loved and cared for them as his own.

6. When we got our youngest dog and he persisted in waking in the middle of the night and whining to be let out for the entire first year, Mr. Spicy got up every night, sometimes more than once, to let him out. And he was kind to him in the process, which is more than I could have done.

7. When Zane was first born and was jaundiced, Mr. Spicy went with him for every blood-draw, comforting Zane and allowing me to sleep.

8. When Zane was under those awful lights at the hospital for his jaundice, Mr. Spicy held him for hours, his arms kinked into the plastic bassinet, supporting his son so he wouldn't feel alone.

9. He got into a heated argument with the Dr. on-call while I was in labor, determined to protect me and to allow my wishes to be heard.

10. He knows what he wants and will persevere until he gets it.

11. He is strong, both in character and physique. (Have you seen his biceps?!)

12. He loves to travel and explore - and he lets me do the research and planning.

13. He LOVES to dance. (He was teaching swing and salsa dancing when we met - yum!)

14. Even though he loves dancing and was in high demand with the ladies back in the day, he chose not to learn the Argentine Tango. He felt it was a dance he specifically wanted to save to dance with his wife some day. He's been hounding me to take Tango lessons with him since we were engaged. (Why haven't I done this yet???)

15. When we are having a hard time or there is tension, he really wants to talk it through. And he will mull over these discussions for days.

16. He calls me "Beautiful" more than he calls me by my name.

17. He shed tears when Zane rolled over for the first time.

18. He loves the ocean and he has shared this passion with me.

19. He dreams big.

20. He is a great swimmer and doesn't mind when I cling to him in fear when we snorkel. (I don't really do this anymore - much)

21. He is a fierce protector of those he cares about.

22. He is driven to excel at all he does.

23. He is crazy smart.

24. He always smells yummy.

25. He takes his current role as sole financial provider for our family really seriously. He works his butt off to make sure we are taken care of.

26. He treats me as an equal in every way.

27. He values what I have to offer our son and tells me all the time what a great mom he thinks I am.

28. He once gave me a book he made of one hundred quotes about love (borrowing from Neruda's 100 Verses of Love) .

29. He is a poet, through and through.

30. He is also an engineer, through and through.

31. He loves fixing things and making things better.

32. He loves to teach and is a phenomenal teacher.

33. He once serenaded me.

34. He lets me sing at the top of my lungs in the car and tells me that he loves it (even though I know I don't sing that well) - and he is the only person I have ever felt safe enough to do that with.

35. In every way he has given me a home.

36. And well....just look at him:

Happy 36th Birthday, Mr. Spicy!

I am still so grateful I am the one who gets to wake up next to you on your special day, and the first to celebrate with you every year.

I love you.

This Day...

2009-05-06T10:20:00.005-06:00

One year ago today....

I drove to my RE's office. My stomach was filled with butterflies, my heart filled with hope. I listened to Feist on the way there, belting out the songs that had gotten us through our IVF experience thus far.

I waited to be called in the back and waited as the tech drew my blood, commenting on my unusually (for me) prominent veins that day. The tech and the nurses wished me luck, and promised if the news was favorable I would hear them shouting in celebration all the way at my house.

I drove home. I waited to pee on the home pregnancy test, a cheapie dollar store test. I finally gave in and peed, knowing my husband was on his way home. I left the test on the counter and waited for him to get here. I could not be alone when I saw the result. I could not face another negative test again, alone.

My husband came home and walked into the bathroom while I waited in the hallway. He carefully carried the test out to me. There were two lines. This was not another negative. This was different. This was wonderful. This was unbelievable.

And nothing has been the same since.

On that day, I thought that the sight of the digital pregnancy test spelling out "Pregnant" was the most beautiful image I had ever seen. I thought the sound of the nurse reporting our beta (197) was possibly the most incredible sound I had ever heard. I remarked that day, "I have never known a joy quite like this..."

And yet? As earth-shattering and life-changing as that day was? Everything I felt and heard and saw and wrote was all so very small compared to what I get to see and hear and feel today:

He is wonderful. He is unbelievable.

And the little one said, "Roll Over! Roll Over!"

2009-05-05T10:09:00.003-06:00

Zane rolled over this morning.

Gosh that sounds so mundane. For us it was pretty darn amazing. We practically threw him a party! And Mr. Spicy may have even shed a tear or two.

The thing is, he probably has had this super-power for a little while now. But I am a bad mommy and don't like mandatory tummy time. Well I don't like mandatory anything - but that is a whole 'nother post. So. So I haven't been doing a whole lot of tummy time. His head control is great, he's strong and even starting to use his new doorway jumper, so eh, I just figured tummy time could be optional.

But yesterday we went to BYOB yoga (Bring your own baby) and when I would put him on his tummy he would instantly go into cobra pose and I realized he might be close to rolling over if I would just give him enough tummy-time to try it.

So this morning, I placed him tummy-down on our bed and laid next to him and talked to him. I put his pacifiers on either side, just out of reach. And within minutes he pushed up on his arms and shifted his weight like a pro, flopping right on over onto his back. Much clapping and congratulating ensued. Then, because Dad was working from home in the next room, he came in and witnessed Zane's second and third successful rolls. And because I was so fascinated, I put him back on his stomach a couple more times just to watch him do it again and again....poor guy, by the end he was completely tuckered and ready for a nap!

Now that he can do this for himself, he is no longer dependent on me or anyone else to move him when he finds himself unhappily on his tummy. That seems like sort of a big deal to me.

It also seems like a big deal that he has just dramatically increased his mobility. Holy cow. I don't know if we're ready for this.

But ready or not? Here he rolls!

The Z Files: Month Three

2009-04-23T21:41:00.007-06:00

Dearest Zane,

You turned three months old a week ago. Three months is kind of a big deal, little one. It's a milestone you have taken on with gusto!

At the beginning of this month you were babbling, giving us short little reports and expressing yourself in little bursts of "gah"s and "ooh"s. We would run to grab the video camera, wanting to capture this little voice that had emerged, as if it might disappear without proper documentation. Now, several weeks later, you are chatting it up with us every chance you get. Each morning you go on about who knows what, the dreams you had? the meaning of life? I'm not sure, but you are SO thrilled to share it with us, and we are completely jazzed to be on the receiving end of the morning monologues. You also find various things to comment on as the day progresses. In fact, today you made it clear that you were NOT pleased to be awakened by our neighbor's barking dog. You seriously complained. You didn't cry, you just went on for several minutes in your own little language, matched perfectly by your deep, grumpy tone and vivid expression, about what a terrible thing it was to be so very very tired and not be able to sleep. You did fall back to sleep though and I am looking forward to seeing your happy face when you awake fully rested. At the end of the day, you give us a nightly report, sometimes for an hour or more. And never have we, two adults with some serious attention deficit at times, been more captivated and engaged. You have got us hooked little man and we’re hoping this conversation never ends. Keep talking, keep telling us how it is.

Another daily habit of yours is breaking out your gut-busting laugh. Seriously, not a day goes by that you don't find a reason to laugh till you cry. This is one of my favorite qualities about you. A few of the things sure to get you giggling are: dancing with Mama and Daddy, making funny faces in the mirror, listening to Mama or Daddy go on and on about whatever it is we find so important to talk about, and always, always, that first moment after Daddy comes home when you realize that the both of us are there, together, with you. This moment fills you with sheer delight. Today, as we made our way through the grocery store you began to crack up spontaneously and I swear I have never had such a moment of transcendence while picking out produce. Thank you for bringing laughter into our lives. I hope we never stop finding a reason to laugh at each day, together.

This month, you had a reason to cry as well. You don't cry often. In fact, you seem to avoid it if you possibly can. You don't cry when you awaken in the middle of the night, you don't cry when you are hungry, you barely cried when your nap was so rudely interrupted a little while ago. You do let us know you are awake, or hungry, or unhappy, or tired - you are a great communicator. You just don't often do so by crying. My hope is that you simply haven't found the need to cry often. But when you fell off of the bed this month, you cried. You cried HARD. You also cried hard when we had to hold your head in place for the x-ray that followed. And you had every right and reason to, my little love. Before I go any further here, I must tell you again how very very sorry I am that you were hurt, that you were scared, that you went through what must have been a confusing and overwhelming experience. I wish with all my heart I would have been more careful that night and not have put you somewhere you could fall off of so easily. I wish I would have done a better job of protecting you. But I am telling you this for a reason. I want you to know that there are very valid reasons for crying and that it is ok to cry when you need to. I will not always be able to comfort you or wipe your tears as quickly as I did this month, I will not always be able to prevent the cause of the tears, and that will be agonizing for me - but I will try my best to always be there for you when you are hurt or afraid or just need to let the tears fall. I always want to be there for you, in the tears as well as the laughter.

Just a few days before you officially turned 3 months old, we were reduced to tears ourselves. We shed tears of joy (especially your Daddy) as we shared in your baptism and later spoke our vows and our blessings to you during the blessing ceremony we held for you in our home. There is so much I want to tell you about these rituals and why we had them, but I think I will write more about that elsewhere. I do want you to know what an honor it was to write and speak promises we made to you as your parents, what an honor it was to write and speak words of blessing and hope for you and your future. I hope what we shared will stay with you in your heart and will be like lamplight shining upon the road you find yourself walking in your adventure to come.

Well, dearest one, I could go on and on....I could write about how your eyes get darker each day and are now a stormy shade of brownish-gray that reminds me of a painting I painted in high school of a murky lily pond. I could write about your smile, or how you cling to my shirt as we nap together. I could write about how we play music for you as we rock you to sleep and how we read you stories as you stare intently at the pages and sometimes kick and squeal in delight. I could write about how you move your hands with so much intention now, grabbing your toys and blankets and bringing them to your mouth, hitting the toys in your car seat, grabbing the elephant from your bouncy seat and tossing it, reaching for my face and cupping my chin or holding my nose... I could go on and on....

You are already an incredible person and my heart breaks at how fast you are growing up, right before our eyes. At the same time, I could not be more proud or grateful to be in the front row cheering you on. Keep dancing. I will try my best to keep up.

Much love,
Mama

For Keeps

2009-04-15T13:50:00.003-06:00

This morning I had one of those moments where I suddenly realize I am living out a dream I had long ago. As I walked a mile to a neighborhood coffee shop, Zane strapped to my chest in the Ergo, the sun shining brightly, a slight chill in the new Spring air, little buds poking out through the earth alongside us, neighbors smiling and wishing us a good morning - I was overcome by the awareness that I had dreamt this many times before.

I walked, childless, through three Springs prior, dreaming of days like today. Dreaming of my little one joining me in the sunshine, experiencing the relief of the warmth after the winter, delighting in tulips pushing their way through the earth. I also spent countless hours in coffee shops, alone, fantasizing about bringing my child to my favorite spots, or new ones we might discover together. I thought about sharing with him/her these tastes of beauty and comfort. I thought of sharing myself through the things I love.

And there I was this morning. Doing just that. I was the mom I had dreamed of. My son, so much more than I could have hoped for. The day, even more glorious than I had imagined. I had arrived.

This morning was a much needed antithesis to our experience Saturday night.

Saturday evening, I was getting Zane ready for bed. Mr. Spicy had left to run a few errands and get a haircut. I propped Zane up on his Boppy pillow on the bed as I walked three feet across the room to fetch some pj's from his dresser. Like I had done dozens of evenings before.

You know what is coming next right?

"Thunk!" - I still can't get that sound out of my head.

I turned and everything went black, except for the image of my son, head down, in a completely unnatural position, on the floor. On. the. floor.

My mind kept trying to process it. It was completely unfathomable. He didn't belong there. On the floor. Why was he there? How did he get there?

Before I knew it, he was in my arms, against my body, screaming. Tears rolled down his cheeks, his eyes wide and wet. I ran with him to the phone. Called my husband and screamed incoherently about the baby. falling. come home. need to go to the ER.

I clutched my baby tight to my chest as I waited, and he calmed down within minutes. I alternated between calling out to God to "Please let my baby be OK! Please help!" and berating myself, "I am such an idiot! I am so stupid!"

The truth is, I was telling myself that my secret, dark fear was coming true.

The fear I have had since he was born. The fear that I would surely do something somehow to break or ruin this perfect little being who so graciously had come into our lives. The fear that I could surely not be trusted with such an amazing and perfect gift. The fear that I would surely do something to fuck it all up.

By the time we arrived at the ER I was a mess. I could only sob uncontrollably as the triage nurse asked what had happened and tried to reassure me that these things happen to everyone.

There were a terrifying few hours ahead. Hours that included holding his head down for an x-ray, hearing that the x-ray showed a possible skull fracture, being told we may have to have him admitted and observed overnight, taking him for a CT scan after being advised about the large amount of radiation involved, and then....the relief. The relief as the NP came in and assured us that the CT scan showed no fracture, no brain bleeds, we were clear to go home.

And just like that. It was over. We were going home. To our own bed. To our life. Everything was going to be OK. I didn't break him. I didn't ruin him. He was fine.

I still have multiple flashbacks throughout the day, hearing that "Thunk!", seeing him crumpled on the floor, feeling all my oxygen leave my lungs. I am second guessing myself everytime I pick him up or put him anywhere. I can see danger around every corner, all the possible horrific outcomes fly in my face. But even this is fading ever so slightly, becoming ever less powerful.

And mornings like today help me believe. They help me believe that everything just might be ok.

That I might not ruin this.

That this gift might be for keeps.

Dressed for Success

2009-04-09T13:28:00.003-06:00

Quick post. I have 2 minutes free.

Thought I would share some photos of how I find myself dressed lately when we go out.

Our favorite: The Ergo

Second fav: The Maya Wrap

And ....the pouch. Best for little newborns. Sorry about the messy bathroom* and my stylin' winter pjs. (our house was FREEZING that day)

The Ergo is amazing. I wear him in it when I grocery shop, run errands, wash dishes, cook dinner, etc. I get two free hands, get to have him all snuggled up against me, and he gets held and gets to experience everything I am doing with me - we both win! And the Ergo gives me no back pain at all. And bonus? Wearing an extra 14+ pounds for hours a day qualifies as exercise!

The Maya Wrap is great, super versatile and works great for the newborn stage (Ergo is not as newborn friendly in my opinion - there's a newborn insert but it's bulky and weird). The sling allows me to carry him on my hip or facing out and is good for shorter periods since it does tend to give me some back pain after extended wear.

The pouch is easy and light and worked super well when he was smaller. Technically I could do some of the same holds in it as I do with the ring sling to adapt for him getting bigger, but it just doesn't seem well-suited for a larger baby as much.

Are any of you Mama's out there wearing your babes, or have you worn them when they were smaller? Or any expectant mama's planning to? What are you using? What are your favorites?

* You might notice the Huggies in the background? Yes. Well, Mr. Spicy and I are in a passive aggressive diaper war. Even though we have gorgeous, clean, environmentally friendly cloth dipes, he insists on buying a bag of disposables "just in case" and switching to them when he changes Zane. Then I change him back to cloth - and around we go.

Might be easier just to sell the house

2009-03-24T19:12:00.003-06:00

Mr. Spicy had to be at work really early this morning. He let me know before leaving at 5:30am that our older dog, Sativa, had had an accident downstairs and that he wasn't going to have time to clean it up. I groggily took this in and rolled over and went back to sleep.

A few hours later Zane and I rolled out of bed and prepared to begin our day. As I carried him downstairs, the odor of dog poop wafted up and hit me in the face like a brick. As I turned the corner on the staircase I saw pile after pile of diarrhea, some dried and some fresh, laid out on the floor of the living room, across the rug, through the dining room, into the kitchen, and all the way up to the back door. It was as if she had made a trail of crap to remind her where the back door was in case she happened to lose her way. Or in case she suddenly went blind she'd be able to find her way by smell. And she had gone back and left a second trail, just to be sure.

I went to work wiping, spraying, wiping, mopping, and mopping some more. After nearly three hours the floors were clean, the rug was clean, but I felt like I was covered in dog crap and I couldn't get the stench of shit out of my nostrils.

I grabbed Zane and headed for the bathroom. I showered, and scrubbed, and showered. And then just for good measure I bathed him as well. With both of us disinfected and in clean clothes, I sat down to nurse him. Afterward, he immediately spit up all over the both of us. I am not proud to admit that I dabbed us both with a burp cloth and decided we could live with a little spit up for awhile. I grabbed a cereal bar and protein shake (my first meal of the day) and we laid down together for a nap.

Waking up later, feeling refreshed and optimistic, I headed downstairs once more to salvage what was left of our day. I turn the corner on the stairs and....there is shit. again. all over. again. It's like I am living in some crappy (heh heh) version of Groundhog Day.

So, I put the dog out. again. And I repeated the routine from earlier in some sort of twisted deja vu.

Hours later, the house clean again, the husband washing the dog downstairs - I realize I cannot get the smell of this day out of my nose, it is haunting me, along with the recurrent image of all. that. damn. poop. everywhere. - I am huddled in our room, nursing Zane, fearing that if I leave this room that I might find a trail of crap again. Traumatized by my dog's unfortunate condition, I wonder if there is any way to redeem the day?

That's when I remember.

This is exactly what alcohol was made for.

The Z files: Month Two

2009-03-21T03:25:00.004-06:00

Dear Zane,

Two months already? Wow. It is all going by so fast little one. And you are growing like a weed! You are already making your way into your 3-6 month wardrobe and some days I look at you and you look like a little boy instead of my newborn baby.

This month has been full of exploration. We have been getting out of the house together a lot more and I am finding much to my surprise that you, even at such a young age, are an incredible traveling companion and partner in adventure. I love taking you everywhere with me, seeing you experience things for the first time, watching your personality begin to unfold, being reminded to chill and be in the moment with you. We have taken walks, sat in coffee shops, gone grocery shopping, read books, gone out to eat....all things one might do with a new friend or companion. We are both exploring this big world together. And though I have seen it all before, I have never seen it before - not like this.

This month you have filled our hearts with your laughter. We have been reduced to goofy performing monkeys trying everything we can to squeeze one more laugh out of you. But just when we least expect it - there you go again. Your face lights up, your dimple deepens, and you just let loose. It is the most beautiful sound I have heard in my entire life. Really. Your laugh is both explosive as thunder and as gentle as a feather, all at once. What amazes me is how you will begin laughing in the midst of a deep sleep. I wonder what you could be dreaming of that gets you chuckling all to yourself. Already you have private jokes we could never understand.

This month has been a lot about togetherness. We are really together all the time now. Whether I am wearing you in the Ergo as I grocery shop or do laundry or whether we are reading books together or playing on your exercise mat on the floor. We are together. And already it is a slightly different togetherness than last month. You are more deliberate in your responses to me, we just feel more connected, and this month you began to hold onto me. When I am holding you now, you often reach your arm around behind me and pull yourself closer to me with all your mighty baby strength. And when you do this my heart explodes over and over again. You remind me in so many ways that we are in this together. And I, so determined in the past to forge my own way, so full of my own independence, could not be more thrilled to be a part of this pair that we are becoming.

This month has also been about small tastes of separation. We have had many visitors this month (your Nana, your Aunt DeeDee, and your cousins, various friends...with more to come). I admit it has been hard sharing you with these people who have come to love and adore you. Heck, sometimes it's hard to share you with your dad. But I am learning. And I am finding there is a different joy that comes from watching you delight in and interact with the people I love and who love me. As one friend pointed out, when you are being held by someone else, we literally get to see each other from a new angle. A bit of distance at times can be good. Last night I went out without you for the first time that didn't include a mad rushing around to run errands and get back to you as quickly as I could. I went out for a long dinner with a really dear friend. I resisted it at first. I thought about trying to come up with an excuse to bring you along. But instead, I took a deep breath, I spent the day snuggling with you, nursed you one last time, and then handed you over to your dad with dozens of kisses and promises to be home soon. And while at first it was hard to be out there in the world without you (is there a world without you?), slowly it got a little easier. I knew you were safe and loved with your daddy and I knew I was being filled up in ways that would allow me to return to you with more to give. I looked forward to bringing home more of myself to share. Still, as I walked through the door at the end of the evening - I have never been more excited to be home. And it was all I could do not to actually run to where you were. I wonder if your first ventures into the world without me will be much the same.

My heart has stretched this month and I sense it will only continue to stretch further and wider until perhaps it rips wide open. It is stretching to make space for you, for you in all your sweetness and light, for you in all your bigness, for you when we are together, for thoughts of you when we are apart. There is so much to hold onto but so little I can actually hold. Each day dances past and slips out of reach. Each milestone of development eclipsed by the next. We are finding our way, the two of us, the three of us. Finding our way into this bumpy world as a pair, as a threesome - as a family. And I want you to know that I will always be here for you to hold onto, as long as you need, whenever you need it, no matter what. But I will also try hard to let go when I need to, to let you venture out into the world, into your relationships - without me. And I will try to remember to be filled up in other places too, so that I always have more to bring home to you and to your dad.

Maybe that's what it means to be a family. Each of us holding onto one another and being there for each other to hold onto, but also each of us going out into the world, into our experiences, and bringing home more of the world and more of ourselves to share. Thank you for making us a family. Thank you for inviting us to this dance.

Love,
Mama

Simple pleasures

2009-03-09T23:21:00.004-06:00

We had a busy and beautiful day today.

We met a dear friend at the park for a walk around the lake. It was blustery and cold, but the presence of this friend and easy conversation was warming to my heart.

We retreated from the cold and all three of us (four, if you count my friend's beautiful growing "bump") and went to our favorite bookstore for coffee, more conversation, and a feeding for Zane.

After our friend left us, we wandered the bookstore briefly and then headed next door to buy a couple of used CDs. I wore Zane in our new Ergo baby carrier and felt like a cool hipster momma browsing and bouncing my sleepy little package along to the funky beat.

Next we headed to a nearby burrito joint for a burrito bowl and a grapefruit Izze (my favorite) and I made phone calls while I devoured my lunch and cradled my wild-haired little one close to my chest.

And finally - we headed to the chiropractor for our first appt since Zane's birth. Ouch! I needed an adjustment fiercely!! Zane got his very first (ultra gentle) adjustment and slept right through it. He also got to lay across my chest as we both got a ride on the roller table. He laughed and cooed at the ladies there and once again proved his ability to charm is developing quite early. (he takes after his dad)

Just a couple of weeks ago I never would have imagined a day like today, the thought of it would have worn me out. Today I felt like "me" again - but completely different, in a really good way. It was an amazing day full of simple pleasures and small victories and I could not have shared it with a better companion. The world is all new when I am with him, every outing an adventure.

And who wouldn't want to spend a day with this handsome fellow?

Milestone

2009-03-05T10:37:00.001-07:00

My guard was down.

Zane peed all over me, for the first time.

But the kicker?

He laughed about it!

His first joke.

I am so proud.

Identity Crisis

2009-03-04T08:45:00.003-07:00

6 weeks ago today, my son was born and I became a mother. I entered whole new world and I have been trying to map the terrain ever since.

I knew motherhood would present challenges to my identity. I assumed my fierce independence would be confronted. I assumed my reluctance to define myself would become even more murky. I braced myself for a full-on identity crisis like I experienced when I was first married.

And I do feel strange and out of sorts and like a new baby (thanks for the metaphor, Selena) just trying to find out who I am in this new world of mine. But it isn't quite as hard or as scary as I thought it would be. At least not all the time.

In fact, sometimes it feels like a call into becoming. Becoming someone I have not yet met but know I am meant to be.

There are dozens of moments throughout the day when I get a glimpse of her. When Zane looks at me with utter adoration, when I can comfort him with just the scent of my skin, when I feed him with my own body, when I wake in the middle of the night completely exhausted and still find a smile for him, when I am able to make the choice to be there for him to be present with him even when I would rather check out for awhile - these moments and so many more give me a taste of the woman and mother I am becoming. She is loving, she is strong, she is honest, she is wise, and she is hot! Seriously. In those moments I feel like a total rockstar superhero. When my son looks up at me and smiles I imagine I am glowing with beauty and light.

And then? I look in the mirror. And yeah. Not so much.

Most days I look rather less than a glowing image of motherly light. And far short of a superhero. I look in the mirror - my hair needs serious attention, and though I have pretty much lost my pregnancy weight I am still heavier (and flabbier) than I would like to be, and there are dark circles under my eyes to remind me that in six weeks I have yet to sleep more than four hours or so at a time. And often I am still in my pajamas at 11am. Not hot. But real. This is me. Right now.

Right now.

But I believe that other woman is in me too, just waiting to become. Ok. So maybe I won't morph into some super-hot superhero with a halo of light shining all around me - that's a bit much. But I do believe I am on my way to someone pretty cool. And this revelation is completely shocking to me.

Despite my intense longing to become a mom, despite my desire to meet my child - I had (and still have) a lot of the same fears about taking on that role that I did about taking on the role of "wife". I wondered if I would still be me, if my identity, my life thus far, who I am - would be swallowed up by this role, by this other person. I feared my voice, my heart, my mind would become irrelevant. I worried I would have to squeeze myself into some box labeled "Mommy" that society dictated I would now belong in. I feared I would not find my way to my own definition, my own carving out of motherhood, that instead a new identity would be hoisted upon me with all its expectations and rules.

So I expected some inner turmoil - and to be honest, there is some. I have spent the last week challenging my spouse completely unnecessarily, to test him - to be sure he saw and valued my contributions as a Mom staying at home as much as his contributions as a Dad who works outside of the home, to be sure we were still partners in this. Like I said, completely unnecessary - but all about my fear of being forgotten and abandon and dismissed because I am now a "Mom".

Right beside that fear though, and perhaps stronger than it, is the notion that being a mother could actually bring me closer to who I am deep inside and who I am meant to be. This was my hope but I had no idea if it would be met. I still don't. But I do know that when I get those peeks at a future me - a strong, powerful, empowered woman and mother who is filled up and giving from her fullness - that is so enticing and exciting to me.

So, for now, I will give out of my exhaustion and my deep deep love and devotion and I will trust that the road to her will become apparent as I listen to my heart. I believe the greatest gift I can give my son, my husband, and myself is to listen and to follow this road to becoming.

In the meantime, I have two incredible partners in this journey - all of us trying to find our way.

The Z Files: Month One*

2009-02-24T02:43:00.006-07:00

Dear Zane,

One month ago today** I heard you for the first time. I was shaking, frightened, and drugged – lying on the operating room table – and there you were. I heard you before I saw you. I heard you cry, calling out with a shout that you had arrived at last. I heard you cry and something in me was forever changed. I heard you cry and I knew, I knew. I knew you were mine. Your cry, your voice, sounded like the voice of someone I had known long ago, loved long ago. Your voice pierced through me like a thousand arrows. I wept instantly. I wept, knowing that you were here, knowing that you were mine, knowing that my heart and soul knew you by your voice alone. In that moment, time stopped, my life stopped, my heart stopped – everything stopped. And when it started again, everything was different, everything was new. Because in that moment I became your Mama.

I can hardly believe it has been a month already. And I can hardly believe it has only been a month. I feel so new at this, you feel so new to me - but also? It feels as if I have known you all my life, as if you have been with me all my life. And maybe I have, and maybe you have. I don’t know how these things work.

I tell your dad that I think you chose us. You chose us as your parents. He doesn’t quite know what to think about that since it involves all sorts of beliefs about who we are and where we are and if we exist before we are born here. Big stuff. And I don’t fully know what I believe about all those things either. But I still think you chose us (and perhaps God chose you for us). And to say I am grateful for that would be the understatement of the century.

I want to say thank you. Thank you not only for choosing us, but thank you for being so gentle with us, for teaching us and for having patience with us when it takes us a few tries to “get it”. Sometimes I feel I am living with a wise and kind little teacher instead of the brand-new baby that you are. You are the most peaceful and content baby I have ever seen. Your smile is breathtaking. You really hardly cry at all. (Although, when particularly hungry, you have been heard to growl) I have tried hard to listen and to meet your needs before you needed to cry. But still. Thank you.

Of course, just so you know, even if you cried the whole night through, even if you screamed relentlessly – I would still love you. I would sweat and cry and wonder what I could do. I would hold you and comfort you and tell you I am here for you always. I would pace the floor and I would not sleep. But I would still love you. With everything in me, I would still love you.

“When you have a baby, every day counts. Every week matters. Every month is a revelation, a collection of milestones so vast it’s easy to forget that they have even happened.” – Rebecca Woolf, Rockabye

This was a month full of firsts: your first smile, your first cry, your first night home, your first nap in our bed, your first bath (my how you love your baths!), your first kiss (from mama, of course!), your first time in a sling (you love being “worn”), your first massage (you fell asleep in the first five minutes), your first “push up” (you are mighty strong, little one), your first trip to the park, your first doggy kiss, your first thumb sucking, your first attempt at rolling over (you really shouldn’t be doing this already, you are giving Mama a heart attack), and today? Today you gave us your first laugh.

It was a small little baby laugh but truly and distinctly - a laugh. Your laugh. Your dad and I were chatting with you as he held you up in the sunlight streaming through the window. A smile spread across your face, your mouth opened wide and out came the sound: a few short syllables of laughter, “heh, heh, heh!” We cracked up laughing with you and fought back our tears. A simple laugh. Might as well have been angels singing as far as we were concerned. Later you repeated this miracle twice more. Once as I strapped you into your car seat and again later while you were sleeping (!) of all things. Each time as heart-stopping and surprising as the first.

The month began with the sound of your first cry, a cry that called me into motherhood. The month is ending with the sound of your laughter. My ears, my heart, my soul were made to hear these sounds. I hope I never stop listening. I hope I never stop listening for your voice, never stop responding to your calls, never resist being carried away in your laughter.

Love Always,

Mama

* I am blatantly borrowing this "monthly newsletter" concept from this famous blogger.

** I did actually write this on February 21st, Zane's one month birthday but then had to do some editing because the original version was three pages long! I sure do love writing about this guy.

What a difference a year makes

2009-02-19T13:40:00.006-07:00

Wow. I can't believe it has been 2 weeks since I have posted. I also can't believe I completely missed my one year blogoversary. Yep. One year ago, on Feb. 11th, I began this blog as a place to document my journey through IVF. One year ago I was thick in the battle of infertility and feeling hopeful and scared about what was to come.

I feel so very very far from all of that now. I can't really even fathom calling myself an infertile. Not when I see the face of my son staring back at me. No. I can say I "struggled with infertility" but that feels so distant and foreign now.

I remember walking into IVF thinking, "This has to be the door to our next chapter, I can't take living in this place anymore - I can't take the waiting and disappointment and longing anymore. It has been so long." We were about 2.5 years in at that point. Now I know what a short time that was in comparison to so many others who have been through so much more. I also know now that everything I went through, every disappointment, though excruciating at the time, all of it was such a small small price to pay for the privilege of being Zane's mother. I am just so incredibly aware of how fortunate I truly am. I hope I never forget.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

These days run into eachother. Day seeps into night, night fades to day - in increments measured by feedings, diaper changes, and precious hours of sleep. Time has a different meaning. Time is meaningful only in relation to him. How many hours since he last ate, how many hours he slept last night, and how very very quickly he is growing, growing and changing right before my eyes. I feel pangs of sadness each night as he falls to sleep because I know he will be a different baby in the morning. Each day he is different, each day I say good-bye to the baby I knew the day before. He gets bigger and more agile every morning. And as I celebrate every new accomplishment and experience, I know his days are flying past. He will soon be a month old. I want to beg him to slow down so I can catch up, catch my breath. But all I can do is hold on with both hands and let him lead the way......And what a beautiful and wild adventure he is leading me into.

Coming up for air

2009-02-07T09:54:00.004-07:00

I am sitting in the glider in our bedroom. I am holding my naked-except-for-his-diaper son against my bare chest. He just finished eating and being slowly rocked into a contented slumber. He is perfection and innocence embodied in this gorgeous, creamy skinned little body with the most intense and peaceful eyes I have ever stared into. This is what I have waited for. And it is so good it scares me.

We've been hibernating and healing over here. Letting go of the "shoulds" (I should have....uploaded more pictures by now, sent birth announcements, retuned e-mails/ phone calls, started using our cloth diapers by now....etc..) and learning to live in the moment. And there have been so many that the last few weeks feels like a blur of polaroid photos flashing by me.

We had a long, hard, powerful, unexpected, and at the end a bit scary, labor and birth. I have been processing it like crazy with my husband and my doula and am finally able to relate the details with pride and honesty. And I plan to share more about that here soon (meaning when I have two hands free to type with - it's a long one).

My first week home was a blur of uncontrollable crying jags and suffocating anxiety that made me feel as if I was being held captive in the bottom of a dark pit that I might never return from. I could feel the love for my husband and son but somehow couldn't quite reach it, or them. It was agony. I would sit and hold my newborn to my chest, skin-to-skin, inhaling deeply the scent of his neck - determined to stay connected to him, allowing his scent to pull me up from the pit in small increments measured by my breathing. My husband called in the reinforcements: friends who are mothers, my counselor, our doula. I called Apothecary Tinctura and they quickly whipped up some herbal and homeopathic remedies to nurture and support me. Also, I received my placenta capsules - capsules containing my steamed, dehydrated, and finely ground placenta. I had paid to have these made for this very purpose, to help me to balance my postpartum hormones and emotions a bit easier. Thankfully, after several tearful coversations with friends and my amazing doula, many cups of tea and doses of tinctures, a few days of placenta capsules, and lots of prayer.....something worked. I woke on Monday and something had lifted. So far it has not returned and I have given thanks for every day since, knowing I am far from being out of the woods. But I am learning to live in the moment and to be grateful for each one.

Since Monday, the experience of motherhood has consumed me with all the magic and all the mundaneness. I have had highs....the utter joy of seing my son "smile", the realization that this beautiful incredible boy is the same boy we saw all those months ago, small as a grain of rice on the ultrasound image with the flicker of a heartbeat that is now the pounding heart that I love to hold against my own, the quiet satisfaction and peace as he nurses. I have had some "lows" too....the realization of my now very limited freedom, the anxiety induced over simply trying to figure out how to get a shower or leave the house (I will figure this out right?), the late night irrational anger over hearing my husband snore away while I am up, again.

Love has become so much bigger than how I feel. Love is all about action these days. The action it takes to respond to my son, the active ways I anticipate his needs, the active choice to be with him, to smile - even at 3am, to constantly let him know that he will be cared for, he will be loved - no matter what. Also, the action necessary to reach out and connect with my husband, my partner to love him and ask him to love me in the ways we need right now. And lastly, the action necessary to love myself: brewing a pot of tea, feeding myself, finding time to shower, asking for a break when my husband comes home so I can reboot - and choosing to hibernate and conserve during this season of transition.

Slowly, moment by moment, I am receiving my son's trust in me and learning to trust myself. Slowly, I am letting myself be changed, letting my selfishness and independence be challenged and shaken up, letting myself fall ever more in love, letting myself breathe, letting myself be a mom, a good mom - even when I doubt my own ability.

Sunshine....another update

2009-01-27T17:23:00.002-07:00

We just heard from the Dr.s office. Zane's bilirubin went up slightly again to 15.1. But today is the day it should have peaked and 15.1 is still below the level that requires treatment, so no more testing until his 2 week appt, or unless he shows signs of worsening in any way.

Huge relief. Huge.

She told us to sit by the window with him 3 times a day and to continue feeding him frequently to help his body get rid of this. So lets hope for some sunny days ahead - in more ways than one.

One good thing about getting out for that dreaded blood test today was getting some sunshine for myself too - which really helped me so much! Guess we both need a bit more sunlight right now.

Thanks everyone for the reassurance, the good wishes, and thoughts and vibes and prayers. This really threw us first time parents for a loop and having your support truly helped so much!

Update.....still yellow

2009-01-26T18:06:00.003-07:00

Dr. just called.

Good news: Zane is gaining back his weight like a champ. He left the hospital on Sat. weighing 8lbs 9oz and today he weighed 9lbs even. They like to see a gain of 1-2 oz per day, he gained 7oz in a day and a half. That was a huge relief!

Other news: His bilirubin continues to climb. It is 2 points higher today but still beneath "treatment" levels. We have to take him back to the lab tomorrow to check again.

Thank you all of you who are thinking of us and hoping for us. We (all three of us) are exhausted and Mr. Spicy and I are longing for a few days of uninterrupted bliss with our boy. We are grateful he is doing as well as he is and that the Dr.s are being so diligent with his care. We are just ready for some normalization and reassurance soon. Please send lots of lowering bilirubin thoughts for Zane tomorrow, if you can.

We will keep you posted. In the meantime here is a gratuitous photo of Zane in all his deliciousness:

Yellow

2009-01-26T10:25:00.002-07:00

So much to say......but for now I am thinking of only one thing. That Zane would be healthy.

He developed pathologic hemolytic jaundice shortly after birth. This type of jaundice is much more rare than the common physiological jaundice often seen in newborns. His particular case is caused by him having A+ blood (already an A student!) and my having O+ blood. Some of my antibodies entered his bood stream during the birth and began breaking down his red blood cells causing elevated bilirubin levels.

In the hospital the tests showed that his body was doing its best to respond by making new red blood cells but it is a slow process and his levels were steadily increasing. He remained under "bili-lights" and on a bili-blanket for the three days we were there. We also supplemented his feedings with donor breast milk in an effort to flush more bilirubin from his system. On his last day in the hospital the levels began to stabilize and even decrease slightly.

Yesterday, our first day home, we took him back to be re-tested. His levels had increased again but had remained below the level where treatment is critical.

Today, he is more yellow and a little more sleepy, both signs that his bilirubin may be on the rise again. We are bringing him in this afternoon for testing again.

I am a wreck. I hate that he has been poked and prodded and messed with every day of his little life, I hate that he might need those damn lights again (he HATES them!), I hate that I can't just settle in at home for two consecutive days and love on my boy without interference - but mostly I hate that anything might possibly be wrong with him. I am a crying, worrying mess over here just thinking about it.

Please send lots of prayers, good vibes, thoughts, whatever you've got we'll take it - for Zane to be healthy, for his levels to be coming down, and for his momma to be strong.

p.s. I know this is hardly on the scale of really scary stuff - but for me....well, it's big, and it is freaking me out. I just desperately want him to be ok.

Beautiful Boy

2009-01-21T22:23:00.003-07:00

Our boy arrived at 8:38 am today, after 26 hours of labor and via c-section. He weighed a hefty 9lbs 10 oz which directly contributed to how he eventually came into the world this morning - but I will post a full birth story later when I am not spontaneously passing out. I am exhausted and happier than I have ever been. Best day of my life by far.

Happy birth day Zane!

Water broke!!!!

2009-01-20T06:40:00.002-07:00

More like "leaking" - 6am. Blood tinged.

Having contractions like menstrual cramps.

So excited! Our baby is on his way!!!!!

(we have appt with Dr. Honey at 9 - hoping to stay home till then)

40.5 weeks....

2009-01-16T15:57:00.003-07:00

Had my NST today. Our Poblano looks "excellent" and was very active! And....apparently I was have some pretty serious contractions. But I wasn't feeling them.

Three different nurses took a look at the readout and asked me, "Are you sure you aren't feeling those?" I explained I could feel some tightening and pressure but no pain or any real distinct "contracty" feelings. I was actually pretty comfy. They just shook their heads and looked at me as if I was insane. They showed me the printout and explained that I was showing pretty mid-level to high-level contractions. Even now, I can barely tell I am having them, but they are nothing regular. Sometimes they last several minutes, and there's not a consistent pattern - but good to know something is happening!

Dr. Z was shown my results and apparently felt good enough about them to let me go till next week when I meet with Dr. Honey. But the nurses! Oh my! They were pushing and pushing for me to go ahead and schedule and induction - what is up with that?! Even as I was walking out, a nurse I am not familiar with asked if I was heading to the hospital to have my baby. I was rather stunned and just stammered..."um, no....not yet!"

I am looking forward to either a) going into labor on my own sometime between now and Tue or b) meeting with Dr. Honey on Tue. She knows my wishes and is really supportive and has said in the past that she would allow me to go to 42 weeks if everything looked alright, without scheduling an induction.

I have been reading lately that studies show that the true average gestation for first time moms is actually closer to 41 weeks + 1 day. And like I said, tardiness is a family trait. So, as long as Poblano is doing fine and wiggling away in there and as long as my body continues to do what it is supposed to (yay! contractions!) - I would rather give us both just a bit more time. But, if we haven't delivered by Tue, I will see what my Dr. says and what her opinion is of the risks over 41 weeks. Ultimately, I will do what is best for my son. But for now, everything seems to be working just as it should be. So I feel good about letting nature take its course.

My doula has been invaluable to me this week especially - she and I have talked almost every day and she is superbly suited to talking me off the ledges I sometimes work myself onto. She has been so encouraging and has helped me maintain perspective and positivity in these last days. Today, after my NST, she applauded me for doing so well. That Poblano is thriving, that I am having good strong contractions - that both are happening simultaneously - all good good things. She made me promise to go do something nice for myself today to celebrate my body and that it is doing its work so beautifully. So, I treated myself to a mani/pedi and deliciously spicy Indian food for lunch. Yum! I rarely get pedicure and almost never get manicures, so this was quite the treat! I chose a sparkly light blue polish for my toes as opposed to the usual crimson. It seemed to say "baby boy" and I thought it would be a nice bright image for me while in labor. It makes me think of fairy dust and magic. And what could be more magical than our baby boy's arrival??

So....still waiting. But feeling positive and excited that he is coming soon!!!! It just occured to me today that perhaps I should have some kind of poll going for people to guess when he will arrive and what his stats will be. You could include guesses in the comments or I could do some fancy link to some poll or something...What do you all think???

40 weeks...

2009-01-13T19:52:00.005-07:00

...and no baby yet.

We saw Dr. Z (the male Dr. who is the head of the practice) yesterday because Dr. Honey is out of town (again!). As he had me half-naked up on the table he said, "So. I generally don't like to let women go past 41 weeks. How about we schedule you for an induction this weekend?" I think my jaw dropped, literally. I was totally unprepared for this since Dr. Honey had originally said that as long as all was well with baby we could go to 42 weeks. Thankfully, Dr. Z is observant and before I had a chance to voice my opinion he took one look at my face and said, "You don't want an induction, do you?" And I replied that really, I would rather avoid it if possible.

So - he asked us to come back on Friday for a NST. If all goes well, I will see Dr. Honey again next Tue ( 41 weeks) and she and I can discuss what she thinks about all this. This is assuming Poblano doesn't make his grand entrance by then, of course.

I am not against doing an induction if need be, for medical reasons. I just don't want to do one just because I'm running a little late. Myself and both my sisters came a bit late into this world (one of them at 43 weeks!!!), so I think maybe it just runs in the family. Most my family can't make it anywhere on time to this day - so perhaps he is just following in our footsteps. Not to mention that a large majority of first time moms go past their due dates. So, as long as Poblano looks good and healthy and I am ok - I want to give my body a chance to do what it knows how to do when it is ready and this baby a chance to come when it is right for him.

This doesn't mean I am against helping things along, or clearing the path, if you will. I have been a walking fiend and even did the stairmaster at the gym last night. I did yoga this morning. I saw my acupuncturist this afternoon (she marked the points she triggered so Mr. S can stimulate them at home). I have a tea from my herbalist that is supposed to help ripen my cervix and tone my uterus. She also gave me some homeopathics as well. They are not to induce, just to support the uterus in producing more efficient contractions. I am still on the fence about those though. I am taking Evening Primose Oil, doing warm baths, stretching, doing my "optimal fetal positioning exercises" and yes - having lots of sex (sorry for the TMI). I am also trying to remember to do regular nipple stimulation. Mr. Spicy had me doing it in the car while we drove to the gym last night. Quite the show for the other motorists, I am sure.

But despite all the above (and let me be clear here that I am not religious with any of those things), I think honestly the most important thing for me to do right now is to connect with our baby and to relax and admit that this, like so much else, is really out of my control. No matter what I do - he will come when he is ready. My acupuncturist reminded me that this is one of my life lessons, to learn to let go and understand that things are not in my control. Even after all the work I did with this during our long struggle with IF, I still don't like being in this place. I do not like walking into the unknown. And yet, I will do it again and again and I will struggle with it all the way - because I know that there is so much for me to learn here. And I know there is so much freedom to be had in accepting that I do not have ultimate control. And I think motherhood will require me to face this lesson continually in deeper and harder ways, probably for the rest of my life.

So....we wait. Which depending on the day can feel just fine or completely agonizing. On Sunday I was in bed most of the day and in tears because I was just completely worn out from not sleeping and the aches and pains and the acid reflux and the anxiety and did I mention the not sleeping? I literally went about a week sleeping at most 2-3 hours a night, and even those would be interrupted hours. Then, I would be wide awake the rest of night, only to collapse from exhaustion at about 7am to get another 2 hours of sleep or so. It was seriously making me completely wigged out. Then last night, I slept. I slept. I slept the whole night! (With about a dozen trips to the bathroom of course) I actually kind of freaked when I woke up this morning. I thought surely something was wrong and nervously did a kick count. Poblano was moving just fine. We were both fine. I just felt.....rested. And it was amazing. So, needless to say I am in much much better spirits today. I left the house at 10am for yoga and spent the whole day out running errands and getting stuff done and I felt almost normal again. So today? The waiting doesn't feel so hard. But, after a day out I am tired. So I hope last night wasn't just a fluke.

But enough about me....how about some pictures of me?

Remember when I said I had very special 38 week pictures? Mr. Spicy helped me make a belly cast at 38 weeks. We laughed so hard while doing it - it was really fun. But holy freaking boobs batman! I truly had no idea till I looked at it how incredibly ridiculously huge my breasts are. A good friend of mine did a belly cast with her third pregnancy and she was thoughtful enough to hold her arms in the air while it was being applied so that her boobs would seem more perky. I really wish I would have thought of that too. Regardless. There is my 38 week form, preserved for all time. I am thinking of painting it as an early labor project. We'll see. Mr. Spicy is concerned I will want to mount it on our living room wall and terrorize our visitors with it. Just for that, I made him try it on. So now you all know what my husband might look like if he were 38 weeks pregnant. He is such a good sport! (although he did make me promise not to include his face)

And here are my 40 week belly pictures, behold the giant belly (and the recently appearing stretch marks that I am coming to terms with - ah vanity!):

39 weeks - aka "our first visit to Labor & Delivery" or "Not Complaining Anymore"

2009-01-07T10:23:00.006-07:00

Here is how I spent the day yesterday:

10:30am - missed yoga class so I ran errands, had the oil changed in the car, etc, etc

1:30pm - had my 39 week appt with Dr. Honey. Now about 1.5cm dilated and still 50-60% effaced. She did a small amount of "sweeping my membranes" and offered to do this again for me on Thu morning in hopes of getting things moving.

4:00pm - met up with Mr. Spicy to go check out our future pediatrician's office. Took the tour at 4:30, met with a Dr. and a med asst. Decided this is definitely the practice for us and felt very pleased about that.

5:45pm - arrived home, excited to have dinner with a good friend at 7. Began a playful teasing banter with Mr. Spicy.

~~this is where everything changes~~

5:50pm - got out of the car and began walking towards the house - still joking loudly with husband. Caught my shoe in crack of sidewalk and went flying through the air. In a desperate effort not to land directly on my belly, I turn and land on my right side. I end up with a scraped knee, a scraped hand, (later a sore hip), and and elbow to my belly.

5:55pm - make it into the house with Mr. Spicy's help. Call my OB's office. Search Google frantically for information on falling in the third trimester. The Ob on call, and Dr. Google both reccomend heading straight to Labor & Delivery. Holy Shit.

6:05pm - making the 5 minute drive to labor & Delivery, my doula calls. We tell her what is happening and she talks to me and helps me calm down, reminding me to breathe and connect with my body and my baby. I feel Poblano move a few times and the fear becomes a bit less overwhelming. I have a sense things will be ok. We are in this together.

6:10pm - try to get into night entrance at Labor & Delivery but couldn't understand security guard over intercom. He wouldn't let us in because we didn't specifically say the magic words: "We are in labor!" or "This is an emergency!". We drive around to the main entrance and take the long way to L&D. Mr. Spicy is FUMING at this point.

6:15pm - they get us checked in at L&D. Mr. Spicy goes to move our car. He also goes to have a word with the security guard. I sit anxiously hoping he returns soon and isn't arrested for harrassment or worse. The nurses get me hooked up to the monitors, and Mr. Spicy returns. At first Poblano's heartrate looks it flat. It isn't showing the accelerations they normally like to see. More waiting and watching and listening.

7:00pm - now Poblano's heart rate is looking more normal. They move us to one of the nicer labor and delivery rooms because the computer isn't working in the monitoring room I was in. They draw a full panel of blood and everything looks normal. The Dr. on call from my Ob's office has decided to keep us for four hours of observation. We sit, we wait, we listen. I thank God every time I feel Poblano trying to kick the hell out of those damn monitors. I think they are pretty uncomfortable too.

~~ hours pass, Mr. Spicy gets us Thai food, we eat, watch TV and begin to feel confident things will be ok~~

10:00pm - resident Ob does an u/s - more for our benefit than anything. He is so squished in there, you can't really get a decent shot. But his head is down in my pelvis, and his back is to my left side, with his legs curled over and filling the right side. We see the top of his head, his spine, his heart, his femur - he looks gorgeous to me. He has plenty of fluid and the placenta looks as it should for 39 weeks. HUGE sigh of relief!

11:00pm - another blood draw to compare to the first. The phlebotomist is really rough with his technique and bruises me. But, I don't even wince. I am sure this will be the last step before I get to go home, reassured all is well with our little boy. And that is all that matters.

11:30pm - our nurse comes in. Bad news. My hematocrit has dropped from 38 to 31. This could signify internal bleeding. Or it could be lab error. Either way, they are now telling us we will be staying overnight. We have another blood draw scheduled at 3am. The nurse tries to reassure us. She says first: "Sometimes there's a small bleed and it heals itself." then she says, "But if the next test comes back lower - we will probably induce just to get him out of there." INDUCE! INDUCE!? Shit! Mr. Spicy runs home to let the dogs out and comes back with our "labor bag" just in case. He falls asleep on the bench/bed next to my bed. I stay awake - my mind swimming with the idea that we could be induced in just a few hours. I am exhausted and really uncomfortable from trying to find a way to comfortably sit/lie with those montors attached. I am sore from my fall. I don't know if I was induced if I would have the strength or determination to go through labor right now. I am an emotional wreck from the events of the evening and I could desperately use some sleep. Instead, I watch the clock - walk myself through the "what ifs" - pray - and wait for 3am.

3am - finally. a different phlebotomist arrives. A kind man, probably in his forties with a thick accent. He is much more gentle and wishes me luck. I am grateful for his kindness. I hope it is a good sign of things to come.

3:30am - Our nurse comes in. I am just coming out of the bathroom. My last hematocrit looks great. I didn't even ask for a number, I just was so relieved. She tells us we can stop the monitoring (Poblano's been looking awesome all night long!) and we can sleep till 7, or leave now - whichever we prefer. I wake up Mr. Spicy to tell him the good news. We both agree we'd rather be home. We pack up our stuff, get our discharge info and head home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After everything works out, after I know my baby boy is ok and so am I - I feel guilty. Guilty for falling. Guilty for taking up so much time - from Mr. Spicy, from the nurses and doctors.....from everyone. I feel like the girl who cried wolf. I feel uncomfortable with the amount of attention and resources I have drawn to myself. Mr. Spicy assures me the fall was not my fault, and that we did all the right things. He reminds me that neither of us would have slept or probably exhaled the entire night had we not gone in to the hospital and made sure our son was ok. He is right. He is completely right. I just wish I had paid more attention and not fallen in the first place.

I also realize that I no longer feel any room or desire to complain about being uncomfortable or feeling so "ready" for Poblano to come. I don't care anymore. I don't care if he decides to stay in there another 2 weeks. I just want him safe and sound. And he can get here whenever he is ready. The most comforting thing in the world was hearing his heart beat all night long. I got home and could still hear it in my head - the phantom of the monitors wooshing away next to my ear. It had been less than an hour and already I missed hearing him - having some tangible outside proof of him, of his health and strength.

Lastly, even though the nurses and doctors treated us incredibly well and the accomodations were as comfortable as they could be - this visit really cemented my desire to labor at home as long as possible. No matter what they do, the hospital is just no match for home. And even though I was only on external monitors - I realized how limiting and uncomfortable those could be - even just on an intermittent basis - when I am trying to move and adjust and deal with contractions. So. As long as I am doing well, and Poblano is moving around, we will try to stay home during labor as long as we can. We are literally 5 minutes from the hospital and my Dr. fully suports this plan. But - I also realized from our stay last night, how compassionate and helpful the nurses and Dr.s (and even the phlebotomists) are and can be. I realized that if our plan goes awry, if we spend more time there than we hope to - we will be in really good hands. And that is a huge relief.

On our "to do" list before Poblano arrives, Mr. Spicy had written: "Make several practice runs to Labor & Delivery" - we are so close that this is kind of laughable, but he wanted to be prepared. So, as we were leaving last night I told him I thought we had filled that requirement. We hadn't only done a practice run, we'd done a whole "practice stay". He laughed and asked, "Why do we always have to be the overachievers on everything?!"

I'm sorry to inform you that you have a boring, normal pregnancy...

2009-01-04T12:12:00.004-07:00

That's what the Dr. told us on Friday. We (Mr. Spicy is home on mandatory "vacation" till the 5th) saw Dr. Z, the only male doctor in the practice, since Dr. Honey is also on vacation this week.

He is quite gregarious and funny. He listened to Poblano's heart beating on the doppler, took my measurements and announced that we were boringly normal. My uterus measures perfectly at 38, Poblano's heartrate was perfectly within the normal range, my blood pressure was normal and even a bit low for this stage, and.....I am STILL just 1 cm dilated. BUT! I am now 60% effaced, whereas last week I was still "thick".

Dr. Z demonstrated a great analogy for us on effacement, for Mr. Spicy's benefit. He related it to pulling a knit cap over one's head, when the cap is completely down over the head this equals 100% effacement and all that is left is for the top of the cap to open (like the cervix dilating). He said where I am at is completely normal for a first time pregnancy and suggested we have more "sexual intercourse". Mr. Spicy perked up at that prescription!

It was a good visit and Dr. Z made us laugh. Especially when he "stepped out of hitting range" as he advised us that we were likely to make it to our due date and possibly a bit further. I deliberately scheduled this visit with him because we hadn't met yet and since there is no gaurantee of which Dr. I will get at delivery, I wanted to at least meet him ahead of time so I wouldn't feel caught off guard if some strange male Dr. arrived to deliver my baby. I tend to choose female doctors and especially in the gynecological realm - so it was good to meet him and find him to be really pleasant (and gentle! which is a HUGE plus!).

And....THANK YOU ALL so much for your reassurances and encouragement with my last post. I am actually suddenly feeling somewhat better and my anxiety is passing. I feel much more relaxed about the coming of our Poblano and have decided to just let go and let him come when he is good and ready. (of course, I am still walking, still doing my exercises, still eating spicy food, and still following Dr. Z's instructions - just to help things along) I am a little nervous about going overdue - just in terms of avoiding interventions and such. But, mostly I am trying to enjoy these last days with my husband and with this little one inside of me - knowing he will be here very very soon. Thanks for letting me wig out a bit though, and assuring me that I am not just a big fat whiny brat.

Also - I have a very special 38 week belly picture. But, I may be lazy and just wait to post it till 39 weeks (only 2 days away!). Thanks again!!!

38 weeks has arrived and it is kicking my ass

2009-01-01T04:52:00.003-07:00

Before I get into everything, a quick update: I lost my mucous plug somewhere in the dark and early hours of Wednesday morning on one of my 500 trips to the bathroom. I don't know if I am any further dilated yet as I do not have my "38 week" appointment until Friday, when I will be 38 weeks and 3 days pregnant.

I have been trying to avoid writing this post. This post where I complain or bemoan my last weeks, or maybe days, of pregnancy - knowing full well, with all my heart how incredibly fortunate I am to even be here to begin with. I have spent the large majority of my pregnancy feeling that gratitude and wonder, knowing at each turn in the road, at each milestone, how very very blessed I am. Blessed to have a fairly textbook and simple pregnancy, blessed to enjoy pregnancy, blessed to be healthy and have a healthy little pepper growing inside of me, blessed all around. Just two weeks ago I was still commenting on how much I simply loved being pregnant, how great I still felt, how I was eager to meet our son but also perfectly content to hang out in my blissfully pregnant state as long as was needed.

I have had a spectacular pregnancy. I have stayed relatively healthy, have not gained a ton of weight, have been fairly active, have deeply enjoyed connecting with our son in utero, have loved my new pregnant curves, have loved how much my husband loved my new pregnant curves. It has been really amazing. So - when others kept warning me I would feel differently the last 2-3 weeks, I really didn't put much stock in it. I felt like I was made for this, made for pregnancy - my body was finally doing all it was meant to, and doing it well. It would not let me down. Ha!

Then 37 weeks hit. That nagging sciatic pain that had come and gone during previous months reared it's head again, but instead of coming and going - it moved in and made its home in the lower right quadrant of my back, my right buttock and my right thigh, reducing me to tears and foul words if I so much as tried to innocently take three steps across the kitchen floor. "Still", I thought, "this is normal pregnancy pain, not so bad - I will be ok - nothing to complain about." But each day the pain has gotten progressively worse, and nothing much seems to help. My chiropractor broke it to me simply: "there's not much I can do to help - you just have to have that baby."

Then, as if the rest of my body had gotten the message now that it was ok to start falling apart on me, other symptoms began to appear: massive lower back pain, pelvic pain, the timely reappearance of nightly acid reflux, complete utter exhaustion, and my new favorite - mind-numbing insomnia. And as each new symptom has appeared I tried very hard to simply take it in without complaint, to accept it as a sign things were moving in the right direction. I kept telling myself how very very lucky I was to even be feeling these things. But they kept coming. Soon, I found myself having to scooch four times to simply roll over in bed, and actually getting out of bed has become an olympic event in and of itself. I no longer feel beautiful and womanly and fertile, but simply huge and bloated and beached like a whale.

Thankfully, I have incredibly understanding and empathetic friends who have assured me that this is all very normal and does not mean I am any less grateful. They have kindly offered to allow me to vent as much as is needed. My doula has assured me that these feelings help prepare a woman to be ready to go through labor. After all, if you feel super-duper why would you willingly walk into something like labor and the ensuing uncertainty to follow? In her words, it almost has to get bad enough to make you willing to endure labor to come out of it. But there's the rub. I do want out. I am begging this child to come, I am eating spicy foods, drinking my tea, getting my daily dose of prostaglandins. And tonight - I feel really strange and guilty about it.

I don't want to end this chapter this way, with a desperate wish to get out of it. I don't want to forget in my haze of hormones and sleep deprivation what a tremendous gift this has been. I don't want my son to sense in any way that I can't wait to evict him just to get some relief. But at times, I have felt or am feeling all of those things and more.

On the other hand, I am also terrifyingly aware that regardless of how I feel, this little boy is coming out sometime. And it may be some time very soon. And then I think, "Holy Shit! How did I get here? It's all gone by so fast!" And I realize with alarming clarity that although I now know how to be pregnant, and have armed myself with all sorts of knowledge about breastfeeding, birthing, and even child-rearing - I know nothing, really, nothing of what motherhood is or will be for me. I don't know who I will be once this little guy makes his appearance, his permanent, life-altering appearance in our lives. I don't know who he will be. I will learn, I have been told. But it is more than a little frightening all the same. Frightening enough to almost make me beg for more time to figure it all out, as if there is such a thing.

So here I sit - half of me wishing desperately in the still dark hours of morning for some relief, and half of me mourning that this season is almost over. Mourning that soon my womb will be empty. That never again will I feel Poblano rolling over or jabbing me with his pointy-parts. That never again will being a mother be so easy, so contained. That once I have let go of him with my body, I will begin the life-long practice of letting go in a million ways, with my heart. And with that ache - the physical complaints I feel now seem no less painful, but maybe just a bit more bearable.

So - yes, I am ready. Ready for him to come. Ready to meet my son. Ready to trade these pains and discomforts for new ones. But I am also holding on just a bit, knowing that this is our last bit of time together like this. Knowing that soon the quiet nighttime wanderings of my anxious mind will be replaced by something altogether less quiet and less easily controlled. Knowing, in the words of one of my favorite poets, David Whyte:

the good news is: "Everything is waiting for you", the bad news is, "EVERYTHING is waiting for you."

37 weeks

2008-12-23T22:11:00.003-07:00

Had my 37 week appt today.

I am still just 1cm dilated. Which is pretty much right on schedule. I really *felt* like things were changing, and expected a bit more, but we're ok with 1cm. I want Poblano to come when he is good and ready. Even though I am dying to meet him - I can be patient!
I am negative for GBS - yay!
My blood pressure (90/60) is great.
We did another NST and Poblano is doing perfectly.
I am having mild contractions and "cramping".
My Dr. looked over my "birth plan" (we're calling it Birth Wishes though) and approved everything.

Other than that, I am pretty wiped out most of the time - my huge surge of energy over the last couple weeks seems to be conspicuously missing. My brain is literally the size of a marble right now - I am really foggy and forgetful and lack normal reflexes. I am kind of scared to drive, feels like I am high on something.

It is also a really bizarre Christmas for me. Mr. Spicy and I decided to devote our time, energy, and finances this year to just laying low and prepping for Poblano's arrival - which is surprisingly a lot of work! So, no major crafting or baking sprees for me, and we aren't even really doing gifts except for kids in our family and maybe a few other family members. I feel sort of lame. It seemed like a good idea, a relief, when we made the decision. But now I am sort of missing all the holiday hullabaloo. I actually *love* buying and making gifts for others at Christmas. And now I feel all scroogy and weird because we haven't done that this year. Bah humbug!

But, we have carved out some time to honor our usual Christmas Eve traditions and to make some space for quiet spiritual reflection which is really the most important part of the season for me. So I am really looking forward to that.

And in case I sound grumpy and whiny - I assure you I am not. Just wishing I had more to give on all fronts: time, energy, gifts, attention.... I feel like we have begun the retreat into our cave to prepare for the life changing event to come, and I am having a hard time not being as available or as giving to the people we love as my heart would like to be.

But I am thrilled our little one is doing so well, grateful that I am doing so well, and looking forward to some time with my hubby over his holiday "break". It feels like we are awaiting the biggest Christmas gift of our lives and we aren't quite sure when it (he) will get here. Talk about joyful anticipation!

I hope everyone has a really special and meaningful time with people they love this holiday season - whatever that looks like for each of you. May you all be blessed with peace, love, and joy.

36 weeks (a little late)

2008-12-20T08:41:00.002-07:00

Time is whipping by and I have been uber-busy getting ready for this little pepper to make his debut. But here is the quick update:

I am 1cm dilated as of this past Tuesday. I don't know about effacement or any of the other details. My Dr. doesn't usually check dilation at 36 weeks but she did for me because I am so anxious to know EVERYTHING! Also? lots of bleeding after the check, and spotting for 2 days afterwards. I know this can be normal - but it kinda freaked me out.

They tested me for GBS (Gram B Strep) on Tuesday as well. I will find out this following Tuesday the results. (Crossing my fingers for a negative!)

On Tuesday night I woke up with a really strong contraction. On Wednesday my doula looked at me and asked if I was breathing better. I suddenly realized I could take a full deep breath for the first time in ages. She said it looked like I had "dropped" or at least begun to. She suspected that the big contraction was Poblano moving himself down into my pelvis. I am breathing much easier and have much much less acid reflux.....so maybe she's right?

Speaking of our doula and her fabulousness, we had a long meeting with her on Wednesday night and it was really wonderful. We discovered some things about the ways that I feel encouraged and how I cope with stress or pain that will help us during the birth and we worked on our "Birth Preferences" (aka Birth Plan) and she taught me some exercises for optimal fetal positioning (OFP). Supposedly all the women she has taught this to, and all the women taught this by the doula who trained her in it, never have had longer than 10 hour labors!!! So, I am faithfully practicing every night. I mean, 10 hours? That would be nice.

Other than my OFP exercises, I have been walking this week with a dear friend. We hop on the treadmills and start gabbing and suddenly I have walked an entire hour! I wish exercising always felt this easy! Of course afterwards I am waddling like a duck and sore as hell! But it feels good to be doing it.

Because of Mr. Spicy's new job and our new insurance I can go back to my chiropractor for only $20, AND I can get a full 1 hour massage for $20. So - I did both this week, and it was heaven! I had my massage yesterday and I slept soundly last night for the first time in a really really long time. I am planning on getting adjusted and massaged each week till Poblano comes. It is supposed to really help the baby get into position for birth and relieve a lot of the back pain. I just feel so fortunate that our insurance makes this so affordable to do.

I have been seeing my acupuncturist once a month through pregnancy. I went to see her this week for possibly my last appointment. But we scheduled another appointment first thing in the morning on the 30th (38 weeks). If he is not here by then, she will begin activating some of the more "aggressive" points. So, Mr. Spicy may get his wish for a 2008 baby after all. Of course, none of this will do anything if Poblano isn't ready to come, so I feel fairly secure in knowing that we are opening the way and encouraging him, but still allowing him to get here when he is fully ready to.

Sleep. Sleep? I miss sleeping. I miss it so much! It has gotten to where I dread going to bed at night because I know I will either a) be unable to fall asleep, b) wake up in 2-3 hours and be unable to fall back asleep, or c) wake up in 2-3 hours and spend the whole night sleeping in 20 minute increments as I toss and turn trying to get comfortable, or breathe, or stop throwing up (acid reflux). The breathing and the acid reflux has been better since Tuesday, so there is that. And the massage yesterday REALLY helped. So there is that too. I can handle it if at least every second or third night I get 6+ hours or so, but for a while there I was getting 2-3 hours of sleep for 3-4 nights in a row and it was killing me! I would spend all day an exhausted zombie on the verge of tears and then at night I would lay awake with adrenaline surging through my veins. It got pretty miserable. BUT - I am crossing my fingers that we may have turned a corner and that next week may be better. It just has to be. I don't expect to sleep solidly through the night. It is impossible with my now pea-sized bladder. But to be able to sleep for the majority of the night would be amazing. Was amazing (last night).

Otherwise, all is pretty normal here in preggo-ville. I am losing brain cells daily, possibly hourly. I can't remember anything unless I write it down, and even then..... I am frantically trying to get all our baby-prep done as well as keeping up on normal day-to-day stuff like dishes, and trying to squeeze in a few last visits with friends before I am out of commission for awhile in baby-ville. I feel very "ready" for our Poblano to come and just can't wait to meet him! There is still a lot to be done, but emotionally I am just ready - I want to see him, to hold him, to nibble on his cheeks and toes. I pull out his clothes and sigh over them. It has been15 weeks since we saw him in that last grainy ultrasound image. I am jonesing. I want to see my son's face. It is all I think about. I am totally obsessed.

Last but not least, here are my 36 week (actually 361/2 week) belly shots. I don't know if I look terribly different than 2 weeks ago - you tell me. But I do know it is the first time since I was 14 that my boobs have actually not looked enormous! I am wearing a 38H right now (usually I'm somewhere around a 34F) - but my belly makes them look normal-sized. Ok, enough talk about my breasts, they'll be plenty of that later when breast-feeding comes along.

35 weeks.....really. wow.

2008-12-09T18:59:00.003-07:00

Warning! Half naked belly pics below!

So. I am 35 weeks pregnant today. Holy cow.

Everyone keeps asking "Are you excited?" and "Are you ready?"

The answer to the former is, Yes of course I am, but I am also a bit terrified and overwhelmed at the BIG change about to come into our lives. And honestly, I am grieving being so close to the end as well. I almost burst into tears at my last OB appt. This time has literally flown by and there are still so many things I *meant* to do to commemorate it. And although it has been a hard time in some ways, and certainly a time of reflection and growth and assessment - it has been really, truly, sweet. I love my pregnant body. I love the way my husband looks at my giant growing belly and smiles. I love dreaming about our child together. I love feeling him move and knowing he is safe and sound. I love the feeling of strength and beauty I have knowing I am carrying this life inside of me. And no, I won't miss not sleeping, or having massive acid reflux every night, or feeling like someone kicked me in my vagina - but I will miss pregnancy as a whole. I know, I know, ask me again in 3 weeks and see how I feel, right?

The answer to the latter question is pretty much, "Hell no" - we are so far from "ready" (whatever that means). My "to do" list is more than a page long and I will have to accomplish more than one thing on it per day to ensure we are all set for our Poblano. I have washed some of the baby clothes and erected the co-sleeper (it still needs bedding washed and to be attached to the bed) - I have ordered diapers (cloth) and some other items we are missing - but other than that? Yeah, total slacker. Which is no surprise really. I am a renowned procrastinator. I am the queen of getting things done at the last possible hour. I think I actually work better under that stress some times. But in this case, I am working against a really vague deadline. He could come weeks early, or weeks late, or anywhere in between. Doesn't give me a whole lot to work with there. We aren't setting up a nursery right away though, which saves me some work. He will be staying in our room with us for probably the first 6 months or so. We have a dresser for him and a co-sleeper. There's a changing table in our bathroom and we have a couple swings, bouncy seats, etc. that will reside upstairs and downstairs. So, shouldn't be too difficult, right?

Why does everything seem to take so much more time and effort than I could have imagined though? Take our search for a doula for example. We went to a "Meet the Doulas" night. It was good. Lots of good info. Met 4 doulas. No one really jumped out at us. We interviewed another doula at our home. She was really experienced and knowledgeable and would have done a great job, I am sure - but we just didn't "click" with her the way we hoped to. Then, I spent day after day emailing or calling doulas, only to get no response or to find out they aren't practicing any more or are already booked. FINALLY, this weekend we interviewed another doula and she really rocked. She isn't as experienced as some of the others we've looked at, but she has so many qualities that are such a good fit for us and she seems very knowledgeable and supportive. We connected right away and I felt really safe with her discussing some of my concerns and issues around the birth and preparing for it on a spiritual, psychological, emotional, and physical level. She also has a decade of experience as a counselor working with pregnant and postpartum women and is very familiar with post-partum depression. So, she will be very comfortable supporting me in assessing where I am at and getting the resources I will need if that becomes an issue for me. So, that is finally resolved - which is a huge relief - but gosh it seemed to take forever! Now I need to find a pediatrician. Yeah. I am not looking forward to that so much at all. But I have to have one by the time our Poblano arrives - so I better get on it.

Lots has happened in the last few weeks.

We finished with our birthing classes. We took the Birthing From Within classes. It was a really great series. We met in the instructor's home, with only 2 other couples. It was small and intimate, and creative, and informative, and empowering. It gave us so much to work with - practical aspects like pain management practices and information about birth, emotional aspects like facing our fears and looking at our attitudes and beliefs about birth and about family, and spiritual aspects like making symbols and birth art, and thinking about how we want to welcome our child into the world.

I had my baby shower this weekend. Two friends of mine hosted a sweet, intimate, meaningful, and fun shower for me. About 12 other women attended. We had great food (all of it was gluten-free, which is a sure-fire way to tell me you love me!) and each of the women said a blessing or wish for this new season coming upon us, or for our birth. And then there was the present opening. I could not have asked for a better shower. I felt so loved and cared for. But it was also really hard having all that attention on me in such an intense way. I had to literally keep coaching myself to stay calm and to keep my ears and my heart open to receive it all. By the end I was full, and completely exhausted.

I met with my OB at 34 weeks and addressed with her my concerns about her maybe not being available for the birth and also about my wishes and hopes for our birth. It was an incredible conversation. I have sometimes been hesitant to advocate for myself so obviously - so it felt really good to speak up. She took lots of time with me and was really reassuring about everything. It would take volumes to report back all that we talked about and all that she said. But suffice to say I felt really heard and empowered and supported by the time I left her office and I feel so much more confident that our birth is something we will be active, educated participants in. Dr. Honey has been really consistent in addressing my concerns, fears, and questions with respect and compassion and without making me feel rushed or like the worry-wart I sometimes feel that I am. I pretty much adore her for that. In fact, this visit I again mentioned my worry that Poblano isn't moving quite as much as I would expect and without skipping a beat both she and the medical assistant offered to do another NST just to ease my worries. Of course he was just fine, and he did somersaults the entire testing time just to reassure me - but both of them just continued to tell me not to feel weird or embarrassed about asking to come in for this any time I might be afraid. After talking with others who have had to fight with their Dr.s to even be seen at times - I feel really fortunate to have ended up where I have.

So, I will see Dr. Honey again in a week and they will do my first internal exam and test me for Group B Strep (please let me dodge that bullet!) - I will get to see what if anything is happening in my nether regions to get ready for birth (it sure FEELS like something is happening!). I will also begin weekly visits. And wow, we are really here, aren't we?

And last but not least......I did manage to take a 34 week belly photo, although I am posting it a week late - here is my belly in all its glory! (sorry about the lack of clothing - I can't stand wearing clothes right now any more than I have to)

34 weeks:

Monday is for Music (2nd edition)

2008-12-01T09:27:00.003-07:00

You know when you suddenly remember a band you used to listen to a decade ago and you go and find their music again and wow, it takes you right back to that time in your life - and surprisingly you still really like it?

This last week I was thinking of this group I used to listen to called Digable Planets. I first heard them in 1993, when I was introduced to them by my secret boyfriend and fellow theater major in college. He was a secret because I also had a boyfriend back in the town where I went to high school who I was trying to figure out how to break up with. (I was 18, my skills were lacking) So college boyfriend and I had these crazy adventures all over town made even more adventurous by our "secret status" and he was always introducing me to music I had never heard of as we would jam out and dance our butts off in my dorm room.

Then I ran off, after one year at college and moved to Denver, where my father was living. I had broken it off with high school boyfriend and college boyfriend and I were on the way out as well. I fell in with this group of hipster hippy funky friends who also listened to the Digable Planets and formed all new memories of dancing and laughing with this new group and of course, getting high. I felt so cool and free and the music seemed to match this new season of my life.

But after a year in Denver I took off yet again and drove across the country to move to Chicago. I had never been there, never met anyone there, and had only a few hundred bucks to my name. But within a very short time I was settled in and again had fallen in with an eclectic and diverse bunch of friends who embodied the full energy and creativity of the city. Some of these friends were poets, as was I. And we would ride the train up and down through the city and sit in dark smoky coffeehouses, coming up with new works for our spoken word performances and slam poetry competitions. Some wrote rap-inspired rhymes, others wrote free flowing verses, but no matter what, when you took to the stage you had to have rhythm. There too, I heard the sounds of Digable Planets and other rap/jazz/funk/ hip hop infused music. I heard it in my friends' apartments, I heard it wafting up from basement dance clubs along the street, heard it in dusty coffee houses, heard it spilling out of car windows as I walked past.

So, this week I pulled up some DPs on Pandora Radio and on You Tube and I was simultaneously taken through all three seasons in my life where they played a part in the soundtrack. I remembered dancing awkwardly in a dorm room in Albuquerque, sitting around at a house party in Denver, swaying to the beat, and walking into dark underground jazz clubs in Chicago to dance the night away and afterward run home and transform it all into something I would read later that week on stage, borrowing from the rhythms of the music I was enveloped in nights before.

There is a certain energy in their music, in their rhymes, that is indescribable. They are poetry, they are hip hop, they are life being lived, they are cool, smooth, and hip. They are real.

I am including a You Tube video here for one of their most popular songs - so you have likely heard this before. The setting of the video itself reminds me a lot of being at the famous Greenmill in Chicago every Sunday to perform spoken word and compete in slam poetry, it reminds me of the women's spoken word group I helped form and performed in at coffeehouses and bars throughout the city, and it also reminds me of the funk band I was briefly a part of in Chicago and the small stages and clubs we would perform at - the band's funky bass-laden rhythms laying down under my voice as I sang or spoke my words at the mic. But I could never really hope to be as cool as these three - even now, more than a decade later I watch this video in awe ...... check it out:

( and also? Poblano seems to LOVE this music!)

Rebirth of Slick (Cool Like Dat)

(Butterfly)
we like the breeze floats straight out of our lids
them they got moved by these hard rock brooklyn kids
us floor rush when the dj’s boomin classics
you dig the crew on the fattest hip hop record
he touch the kinks and sinks into the sounds
she frequents the fatter joints called undergrounds
our funk zooms like you hit the mary jane
they flock to booms man boogie had to change
who freaks the clips with mad amount percussion
where kinky hair goes to unthought of dimensions
why’s it so fly cause hip hop kept some drama
when butterfly rock the light blue suede pumas
what by the cut we push it off the corner
how was the buzz entire hip hop era
was fresh and fat since they started sayin outtie
cause funks made fat from right beneath my hoodie
the puba of the styles like miles and shit
like sixties funky worms wit waves and perms
just sendin chunky rhythms right down your block
we be to rap what key be to lock

but i’m cool like dat
i’m cool like dat
i’m cool like dat
i’m cool like dat
i’m cool like dat
i’m cool like dat
i’m cool like dat
i’m cool

(Ladybug)
we be the chocolates taps on my raps
she innovates at the sweeter cat naps
he at the funk club with the vibrate
them they be crazy down with the five nate
it can kick a plan then a crowst burst
me i be diggin it with the bug verse
us we be freakin till dawn beats and i
he yes a stranger smile so i say hi (wassup)
who understood, yeah, understood the plans?
him heard a beat and put it to his hands
what i just flip let borders get loose
how to consume all the beats just like juice
if its the shit we’ll lift it off the plastic
the babe’ll go spastic
hip hop gains a classic
pimp player shark it don’t matter i’m fatter
ask butter how i zone

(Butterfly)
man, cleopatra jones

(Ladybug)
and i’m chill like dat
i’m chill like dat
i’m chill like dat
i’m chill like dat
i’m chill like dat
i’m chill like dat
i’m chill like dat
i’m chill (chill)

(All)
blink, blink, blink, blink, blink
think, think, think, think, think

(Doodlebug)
we get you free cause the clips be fat boss
them dug the jams that commence to goin off
she sweats the beats and ask me could she puff it
me i got crew kid, seven and a crescent
us cause a buzz when the nickel bags a dealt
him that’s my man with the asteroid belt
they catch a fizz from the mr. doodlebig
he rocks a tee from the crooklyn nine pigs
rebirth of slick like my gangster stroll
the lyrics just like loot come in stacks and rolls
you used to find the bug in a box with fade
now he boogies up your stage plaits twist the braids

and i’m peace like that
i’m peace like that
i’m peace like that
i’m peace like that
i’m peace like that
i’m peace like that
i’m peace like that
i’m pace

(Butterfly)
check it out, man i groove like that
i’m smooth like that
i jive like that
i roll like that

(Ladybug)
yeah, i’m thick like that
i stack like that
i’m down like that
i’m black like that

(Doodlebug)
well yo, i funk like that
i’m fat like that
i’m in like that
cause i swing like that

(Butterfly)
we jazz like that
we freak like that
we zoom like that
we out (we out)

And the "mommy guilt" begins......

2008-11-26T18:30:00.004-07:00

So, I lied. Or I forgot. Or both.

Last week at the end of my "32 week" post I said I would take my 32 week belly pic and post it later. Now, it hasn't been all that uncommon for me to slack off and not post a belly pic in a timely fashion. And this time I had some good excuses as our internet went down, we prepared for company, company arrived, etc. etc. But this time?

I completely spaced taking the picture. I have no 32 week belly shot. And it appears I am well into forgetting to take one at 33 weeks as well, since that landmark is passing me by as we speak.

No big deal right? Except I haven't been consistent on writing letters to our Pepper either and I feel like he will one day look through what I wrote and collected during this pregnancy and wonder why there was an entire month between photos and much more than that between journal entries or letters to or about him.

And I know he may not even care, but I also know that he might. I recently acquired my own baby book from my mother and I was surprised at the intensity with which I poured over every written detail and photo. From who attended my mother's baby shower, to pictures of me with the family cat. I wanted clues to this period of time, this time I cannot and will never remember, I wanted to know how my parents felt about me, how I affected their lives, what my life was like in those early days and weeks and years.

So, I feel like something as small as forgetting to document my 32nd week of pregnancy with an appropriate photo could leave a hole in the narrative I have to offer my son. And I realize already that there are so many holes, so many days and weeks undocumented. So many moments when I look down at my growing belly with absolute awe, and feel him move and whisper, "I love you" - that I have never ever written down. And I worry he might never know just how in love I am with him already at this moment, how in love I am with being pregnant, how this is truly the greatest and most amazing time of my entire life and that in many ways it is all because of him.

So here it is. Written down. In case I forget to tell him.

Little man, you are so deeply wanted and loved. I am so honored and happy to be your mama and to have the priviledge to carry you, nourish you, and bring you into this world. I will forget many things, I already have. But I will never ever forget to love you.

32 weeks and all's well

2008-11-18T09:56:00.002-07:00

Had my 32 week appt today. Nothing too exciting. My uterus is measuring just a tad big, like just under a week ahead. Blood pressure is nice and low, baby's heartrate was great and he seems to be vertex (head down). All is well.

I came in a bit tearful though. I had been noticing the Poblano didn't seem to be moving as regularly over the last week or so, and this morning he was really abnormally quiet. So, I got myself all worried and worked up even though I know when I've done official "kick counts" I've gotten good results. But sometimes I still can't stop my mind from wandering into "worst case scenario" territory.

So. The nurse very kindly ordered a NST (non-stress test) for me. And as soon as I leaned back into the cushy recliner with the monitors strapped acros my belly and the "kick counter" firmly in hand - our little Poblano decided to put on quite a show. I laughed as he rolled and kicked and pushed almost constantly throughout the entire 20 minutes. Maybe he just needed an audience?

Regardless, he is doing just fine. His heartrate showed a great pattern and he obviously is moving well and I didn't have any contractions - so all is well on the uterine front. Whew!

The only sort of bad news is that my doctor is out of town the entire week of my due date. She also was out of town this week and will be out of town for the week of my 38 week appt - dang! I don't fault her for going on vacation, or whatever she might be doing, but is it too much to ask that she postpone these trips for a few more months?

Anyhow, I am beyond happy that Poblano is growing and moving and getting ready to come out and join us soon. I will post a 32 week belly pic later tonight.

Monday is for Music

2008-11-17T10:05:00.003-07:00

I am not really musically talented in any way. I took violin lessons in elementary school for a year (I think) and really liked it. (Although, I was really into country music at that time and tried to play it with furious speed like a fiddle, in my closet) But that was really my only "formal" music education.

I did land a spot as lead singer in a funky band in Chicago when I was 20 and it was totally a dream come true. But, honestly? I am not a particularly gifted singer either.

But I love music. I loooooovvvvvveeee it. Not necessarily in the same way a musically educated person would appreciate it. No, I think it's the poet in me - but I love music that reaches something deep inside of me and either gives it a voice or speaks to it. I love when a song can catch my breath and cause tears to well up in my eyes. Or, when music makes my whole body want to move and dance. There is a soul language in music that I am drawn to.

Because of this, there are certain artists or groups that I become very devoted to. They become like close friends, confessors, prophets, teachers.....and I go back to them again and again.

Last night, as Mr. Spicy and I sat in our car outside of our birthing class, one of these groups - a group that we have both been devoted to for years, a group that has for us separately and together, acted as a soundtrack through many many important seasons in our lives - U2, came on the radio. Without even speaking, Mr. Spicy reached over and turned up the radio. We sat in silence and as the song began, first I began singing, then he began singing, until we were both singing at the top of our lungs and tears were being wiped from our eyes as we sang along, "I'm wide awake....." - offering these words up to something bigger, as a prayer, as a gratitude, as a realization that we are here in this moment, this is our lives, this is our world, this is really happening - the good, the bad, all of it. We are not sleeping.

And that, for me, was like attending a church - inhabiting a sacred space, praying, crying out, and being ministered to all at once.

I have experiences like this fairly often and thought maybe I would start sharing what song has moved me that week, right here. I am not promising to do it weekly, as consistency isn't always my strong suit. But - eh, here's the first installment. And hey, if you want to - why don't you join in and post an important song for you on your blog and put the link in my comments? Then I will add you to a list on my blog and we can have our own little Monday music party. Even if you don't blog about it, I would love to hear what music is moving you right now, and why?

This week's song was "Bad" by U2. I am embedding the video for it and the lyrics will follow.

I am madly, insanely, without remorse, in love with Bono. I know he is a flawed human being like the rest of us. I know his wife probably rolls her eyes at him from time to time, just like I do to Mr. Spicy. But wow. When he sings? I honestly feel he is channeling the divine. I am completely certain he is a prophet, speaking to the hearts, the minds, the suffering, and the glory of our time.

So many of U2's songs hold immense meaning and power. They feel like prayers, like challenges, like places of comfort and hope and lament. And depending what is happening with me at any given time, what speaks to me in any particular song of theirs can dramatically shift. It is like reading a sacred text. It feels alive and able to bring different meanings depending on when and by whom it is heard. Their understanding of the human condition, of suffering, of the heart, their passion for social justice and change - and their ability to communicate that...wow.

So, without further ado.....here it is:

Bad - U2
If you twist and turn away
If you tear yourself in two again
If I could, yes I would
If I could, I would
Let it go
Surrender
Dislocate

If I could throw this
Lifeless lifeline to the wind
Leave this heart of clay
See you walk, walk away
Into the night
And through the rain
Into the half-light
And through the flame

If I could through myself
Set your spirit free
I'd lead your heart away
See you break, break away
Into the light
And to the day

To let it go
And so to fade away
To let it go
And so fade away

I'm wide awake
I'm wide awake
Wide awake
I'm not sleeping
Oh, no, no, no

If you should ask then maybe they'd
Tell you what I would say
True colors fly in blue and black
Blue silken sky and burning flag
Colors crash, collide in blood shot eyes

If I could, you know I would
If I could, I would
Let it go...

This desperation
Dislocation
Separation
Condemnation
Revelation
In temptation
Isolation
Desolation
Let it go

And so fade away
To let it go
And so fade away
To let it go
And so to fade away

I'm wide awake
I'm wide awake
Wide awake
I'm not sleeping
Oh, no, no, no

Bizarre Dreams

2008-11-09T12:30:00.003-07:00

this morning I awoke from a bizarre but somewhat obvious dream:

I had given birth to twins (unexpectedly). A girl and a boy. The girl was born a full day and a half before the boy. So, somehow I found myself leaving the hospital with the little boy, strapped into his car seat, which was placed on the floor on the front passenger side of the car (of all places), and driving to pick up my little girl from wherever she had been for the last day or so.

After picking her up and placing her into the same precarious car seat configuration - I headed, not home, but to someone's house. There were tons of people there, for some sort of gathering, led by an older man who is a counselor. Two of the people there were people who don't like me very much IRL and they stared and snickered at me from across the room, judging how poorly I was mothering my little ones.

Which was not an unfair judgment since I began by leaving them in a hot car for several hours by accident before remembering to go out and retrieve them, and upon retrieving them realized neither had been fed yet - ever. So I fumbled about with breastfeeding in this crowded house, all by myself. I was not too good at it. I managed to do it successfully for a few minutes but worried my babies were starving.

Despite my negligent care, they were both pretty good and quiet babies. But maybe too quiet. Once I got them home, I kept forgetting things, like changing them, feeding them, or where I layed them down. I would put one down and forget all about him/her for hours.

Finally, I walked into the "nursery" to find my little boy levitating several feet off of the ground. I was obviously concerned by this - but more concerned with the fact that he was busy chewing on a ball point pen and I worried he might choke himself. I rushed across the room, and he said very calmly to me, "Sorry! I guess I already like pens!" and he threw the pen to the ground. As he did this, whatever spell was keeping him floating weightlessly in the air was broken and he fell to the ground with a thud.

I picked him up, and he was fine except that he was suddenly much bigger, with a full head of curly red hair.

Then - I woke up.

I think as I look toward the final weeks of pregnancy, I am facing my fears of my own ability to mother well. It is no longer an abstract concept. I will be caring for an infant soon. Everything I thought I knew, everything I thought I had to offer - none of it feels certain. How do you prepare for this?

Backlog of belly pics

2008-11-06T12:21:00.004-07:00

I am so far behind on posting these....geez! But for all of you who may still be interested - here are the much-delayed belly pics of weeks 24-30. Enjoy!

Week 24:

Week 26:

Week 28:

and Week 30 complete with my big pink Obama shirt, which turns out to be quite accurate!:

On the front lines of hope

2008-11-04T18:48:00.004-07:00

I have a 30 week belly pic I need to post later tonight - complete with my ex-large PINK Obama t-shirt. ( I also have 24, 26, 28 week belly pics I plan to post.....)

BUT - we are having computer issues and I am thoroughly exhausted at the moment.

I have been so fortunate to be working the front lines, volunteering for the Obama campaign for several days. I've done canvassing, phone banking, and today my neighbor and I spent 10+ hours working as "Section captains" managing the drivers volunteering for our district and working with poll workers to relay information and deal with all sorts of voter issues and conflicts. And it has been incredible.

The one disappointment has been learning how uneducated I have been and really so many others have been about voting procedures, especially around things like mail-in ballots and provisional ballots. So many of the issues cropping up at the polls today were with people not voting in their precinct, or voting via provisional ballots because they did not use the mail-in ballot sent to them - both situations mean that their votes aren't counted right away, have to go through a really complicated process of verification and may not even be counted unless there is a dispute. Add to that the blatant instances of those trying to interfere with or deliberately mislead voters showing up at the polls in our predominantly democratic district - and it can be a bit discouraging.

A really surprising and positive thing today was visiting polling places throughout the day and never seeing very long lines or waits as there have been in years past. It is obvious that a huge amount of voters voted early this year and that is exciting for so many reasons. It means people were voting with intention, purpose, and pre-planning rather than waiting until the last minute. It means people were more involved and excited about getting out to vote and making their voices heard. And it means that whatever issues are cropping up at the polls today - they are affecting a far smaller percentage of voters than they would have otherwise.

Being involved in this campaign has been an experience I will carry with me for my lifetime and one I cannot wait to share with my son, who kicked and rolled around inside of me today, seeming to share in my excitement and emotions. The group of people we worked with was one of the most diverse, passionate, kind, intelligent, wonderful groups I have ever had the pleasure to be a part of. As exhausting and overwhelming as today has been for me, I cannot imagine how so many of these people who have traveled across the country to be here, leaving families and jobs behind, to be here every single day - I cannot imagine how these people have kept up their energy and their passion for months now. It is so good to be reminded of the strength and deep goodness in people all over this country, all over the world. People willing to work together, to collaborate, to cooperate, to make sacrifices, to affect change - to bring positive movement in a world, in a nation that has held much disapointment recently for so many. I am so proud to be part of them, even in my own small way.

Every day I showed up there was such an overwhelming swath of volunteers cramming themselves into the campaign office that those running the efforts were frequently completely caught off guard with how to best mobilize such an unexpectedly huge amount of people showing up and wanting simply to help. This is an amazing problem to have and one I have rarely heard of plaguing other volunteer-driven organizations. I know some of this is probably due to the sensational nature of this candidate and the election as a whole. But in a nation where so many are suffering, so many are experiencing loss of jobs, it still really amazes me that so many showed up to give. To give of their time, their resources, their energy.

I want Obama to win, I want democrats to win. For numerous reasons, personal and political. But today I also desperately want Obama to win so that all these volunteers, these millions who have shown up in so many ways, for so many months - these people who choose to hope, choose to believe that their efforts will make a difference - so that all of these people will be rewarded, will be proven right - their efforts will work, their work will affect change, and maybe it will carry forth into future issues. Maybe it will restore more people's faith that they can make a difference, they can become involved for issues they care about, and their involvement can matter. And maybe all of us will live a little differently - live just a tiny bit more with intention and willingness to give to bring about the changes we are hungry for. Not just for ourselves, but for all of us - together.

I have been reluctant to celebrate my nationality, hesitant to engage in any form of patriotism, for at least 8 years now. I have felt disenfranchised by our politicians and administration. I have had a difficult time being "proud" to be an American. I have grieved at baseball and soccer games when the national anthem was played. I have had dreams of leaving the country.

Today, this week - I am reminded that this IS my country too. I do have a place and a voice here, and I am proud to engage in it and be a part of it. I am proud of my fellow residents of the U.S.. I am proud and I am hopeful.

And gosh, it feels so good to let go of some of my cynicism, my anger, and to hope - with realistic expectations - but nevertheless to hope.

(now I have to rush off to a big party downtown for all the volunteers - I am dead tired, but I am not ready for today to be over yet - so I am going to go mingle with thousands of others and hopefully CELEBRATE!!!!!)

Showing my cards....

2008-10-30T16:52:00.003-06:00

I generally have been steering away from commenting on all things political lately, at least online - which is strange because I am pretty out spoken in my "real life". I think I have seen so many political online "conversations" become complete shit storms that I have just not wanted to invite that upon myself.

But....I can no longer hold out. I am so excited and had to share that in one hour I will begin my volunteer work for the campaign of this man:

Probably the first person my husband and I have had a major crush on simultaneously. ( I sound like I am 12 now, don't I?)

And, yes, I have plenty of reasons for supporting him besides the fact I get all googly-eyed whenever I hear him speak. I do, really. In fact, I was a bit of a skeptic for awhile. I originally leaned more towards Hillary in the primaries. Not Mr. Spicy though, he's been an Obama man all the way.

And just a side note, if you like reading memoirs, his book, Dreams From My Father, is really a great read. Really. And it ends before he even goes to Harvard, so if you aren't a supporter of him politically, you won't have to read anything about his political career there at all. It's just a phenomenal book. (apparently there is a big controversy over whether he had a ghost writer to help him with this book and who that might have been - eh, whatever, like I said - still a really great read)

So, I hope my little volunteering stint in this last few days before the election will somehow make some small difference. I am excited to be a part in what is truly an historic election. I am finding myself as excited and passionate as I was back in 1992, the first election I could vote in. I was 18 and completely ga-ga over Bill Clinton. I even got to shake his hand. And even though Clinton didn't exactly turn out to be the messiah or anything, I am still proud of how involved I was back then. And truly, this is the first election since that I have felt this hopeful and involved. And I see so many others feeling the same way - and that for me is really inspiring. So, while I hope my efforts will contribute to getting my candidate elected - I hope even more that by being involved I will somehow be a part of getting even more people involved in the political process. People who might not otherwise have come out to vote. Because at the end of the day that is part of what has been most hopeful for me about all of this: being reminded that this is my country, and that I have a right and a responsibility to make my voice heard and to be involved in it.

Now, remembering to hold onto that energy even when the BIG election is over, and the smaller processes are taking place on a city, county, and state level - that is where the real battle will be for me long term. But, one day at a time, right?

How are you feeling about the election? Are you excited? hopeful? Pissed off? Over it? bored? cynical?

------------------------------

And completely unrelated....I am in complete denial that I am now over 29 weeks pregnant!!!!! I cannot believe it. But I will be posting updates and belly pics soon - promise!

The perspective of the rain...

2008-10-16T04:44:00.005-06:00

Three years ago we took a trip to Costa Rica, our first there together. We backpacked through the country, catching buses, staying in cheap hotels....it was magical.

Midway through the journey we arrived in a mountain town, high in the cloud forest, called Monteverde. We arrived by way of a rickety old bus driven precariously through the mountain roads. We got into town around noon or so and quickly found rustic and affordable lodging. We unpacked a bit and prepared to explore the area in the afternoon.

I don't remember exactly where we were when it began raining that day. Had we already left the room? Had we made it into "town"? I honestly can't say. But I do remember that it began to rain with such force and fury at 2pm in the afternoon that it felt as if the whole sky might indeed fall in upon us. The air was replaced by sheets and sheets of torrential rain released out of some invisible faucet above. It seemed that there could not possibly be that much water in the entire world.

People retreated from the streets, the bright afternoon darkened. It felt oppressive. And we wondered how long it would continue. But then, about 4pm, like clockwork, the faucet was turned off, the sun came out again, although muted by the clouds that area is known for, and it was all over.

We found out quickly through locals that in May this was pretty much standard for Monteverde, every day there would be these short intense rains beginning around 2pm. We just needed to plan accordingly. So, the next day we planned around the rain, had a fabulous morning, and by the time the rain hit we were happily enjoying Costa Rican coffee in a coffee shop and marveling at the beauty and power of nature.

It's all in the perspective isn't it?

A week and a half ago we were holed up in a luxurious hotel room, enjoying a blissful, romantic babymoon. (ironically, payed for almost entirely with rewards from our credit card, the one we used for many of our IVF expenses) We were well fed, well rested, thoroughly romanced and our internal emotional buckets were full for the first time in a long time. We laughed at our usual worries and talked about the things to come with a sense of peace. We were happy and content.

Then we returned home and within days the first rumblings of thunder began.

Mr. Spicy had decided to accept an offer at another company and after returning from our babymoon, gave notice to the team of people he had helped build and lead for six years. And a whole host of complications surrounding that decision came up like the first drops of impending rain - that we were not expecting.

The tension continued to build around his job stuff, our finances, future concerns we had been able to laugh at only days before.

And then, we decided (well, Mr. Spicy decided) to take in a cat. Seems harmless enough right? She had been crying and crying at our back door for a couple of days, she wanted in, she wanted petting, she wanted food. She was obviously not just another neighborhood alleycat. She had been with people before. Mr. Spicy began bringing her tuna on the deck, and before too long she had moved in - complete with a litterbox and premium cat food. I checked everywhere for someone who might be looking for her, but had no luck. We decided to keep her "for now" and talk about maybe trying to find her a good home after we had vaccinated and spayed her. The best laid plans....as they say.

Well, a few nights ago she began having diarrhea, and it got all over her back end. Mr. Spicy, trying to be helpful, grabbed a spray bottle of dog/cat cleaner and another spray bottle of what he assumed to be water to clean her up. He got her all clean, things seemed well, we went to bed. When we awoke the next morning we found the kitty curled up in a ball on our couch, growling in pain, we couldn't touch her without her yowling. I then noticed the cleaning supplies from the night before and realized that Mr. Spicy had sprayed the kitty, not with water, but with a solution I had mixed up for cleaning our kitchen. It was water, vinegar, and multiple essential oils. The essential oils I used were precisely the kind that are toxic to cats if ingested in large amounts. We feared we had accidentally poisoned our kitty.

We rushed her to the vet hospital for two days of IV fluids, multiple medications, much hand wringing on our part, and literally hundreds of dollars spent. In the hospital she spiked extremely high fevers and it became clear that we may not have had a role in her sudden illness at all. She may have simply had a severe infection. Regardless, we have now bought and paid for a cat - full on. We felt sick at the thought that we may have accidentally harmed her, we felt worried and sad for the little kitty who had so sweetly chosen our home to invade, and we felt anxious and ambivalent about all the money we were spending - money we really didn't have to spare - for a kitty we had only known for a week. We never regretted taking her in, doing the right thing for her - but those two days really took their toll on us.

During that same 48 hours, the truck that Mr. Spicy drives to work, the 19 year old monster of a truck with a broken door lock, the truck we knew we would need to replace in the next year - well, it sort of died. In reality, a major component of the truck died, and it is simply not worth it to put the money into it to replace it. But, if you can imagine - we were dealing with uber-expensive sick kitty in the hospital and the thought of needing to replace a vehicle, basically all at once.

And the rain came pouring down.

It felt very much like that oppressive rain storm our first day in Monteverde, I couldn't catch my breath, there were too many things happening at once - and too much we simply didn't have a buffer for, financially or otherwise. I sunk quickly into feeling sorry for myself, for us. Why was all this happening at once? How could we possibly take on more debt just as everything was changing? Soon, Mr. Spicy would start his new job, soon we will have a new baby - now we have to buy a car, pay vet bills, and we still have to pay for baby stuff and a doula, and Christmas....and and.....anxiety ensues. And the torrential downpour just gets louder.

But then? Then we remembered some "emergency" money we had stashed away. Not enough to fully cover the vet bills, but enough to make a big dent. And, probably more importantly, we remembered we were not alone. I called my dad who has an extra car he doesn't use regularly and asked if we could borrow it for a little while to give us time to buy a car. Not only did he gladly and generously offer it to us, but he made it clear we could borrow it for as long as we need to save up for a good car, a car that will be safe and dependable and actually fit our needs. Which was such a huge relief that I began to cry.

It is such a typically "American" and an extremely indulgent problem to have: the need to buy a car. I mean really. I wish I was someone who was able to simply figure out how to do without one. But for now, with Mr. Spicy working so far away and needing to be able to travel to different offices throughout the day, and with my nanny work - we aren't able to creatively work out another option just yet . And yes, how ridiculous to cry over a car, over maybe having to purchase an old, high mileage vehicle because that is all we could could afford right now - "Oh noes!" I know, I know - it could be so so much worse. And I feel sufficiently ridiculous about it. But knowing we can wait, wait till Mr. Spicy is comfortably settled into his new job, wait till our little Poblano makes his appearance, wait till we have a bit more saved from bonuses and tax returns to make this large purchase more reasonable and less rushed - well, it was like the rain just suddenly stopped pouring. And the sun came out. And I could take a full breath again.

And now? I look back over the past week and feel a bit silly and embarrassed. Somehow, I let this strange and admittedly stressful sequence of circumstances send me into a dark and fearful place. I am not surprised I ended up there, not surprised I possibly became WAY more stressed out than was necessary, not surprised that I allowed these events to invade my psyche and convince me once again that I could not rest, I am not safe, the world is dangerous and unpredictable, and we are all alone in it. I am not surprised. I am dismayed. I don't deny that we had a stressful cocktail of events all at once - I don't blame us for letting those effect us. But now that it has stopped raining, or at least for the most part - Now that our new kitty (her name is Tallulah by the way) is home safe and sound and just as sweet and loving as ever - Now that my dad and stepmom have reached out to us in this generous and loving way........

Well, now I can see that it wasn't the rainstorm meant to drown us, or ruin us - it was simply a short and powerful storm that has cleared up relatively quickly. We weren't drowned, we didn't lose much more than money and an old truck that was on its way out anyhow - we are ok. Sure, as Mr. Spicy makes this next big transition, it will be hard - we will both grieve the people he is leaving, the people he has known for 6 years, we will both feel anxious about the new expectations and new environment for him. He will be under some stress as he navigates his way into this new world. But we are ok. He is ok. Our kitty is ok. We are all ok.

I know part of my heightened reaction is due to pregnancy. And even if it isn't - that's my excuse and I am sticking to it! But I also know that some of it is just me, just us - and how we respond when things go off track for us. We have friends who face enormously stressful situations with so much more grace and so much more ability to simply shrug and move forward, doing what needs to be done. We get there eventually - but not without much gnashing of teeth, inner-soul-searching, and moaning and rolling on the floor. Ok, maybe not rolling on the floor...but you get my drift.

I just wish sometimes we could remember the perspective of that second day in Monteverde, the knowing that the rain would not last forever, was not going to harm us - that we would be ok. I wish we could find ourselves in a cafe, sipping coffee, waiting out the rain, and not losing sight of the beauty and power all around us in the midst of it. I wish we more regularly were the ones helping others out of the rain rather than needing that help so much for ourselves.

I am grateful that the rain was as short as it was. I am grateful for the lessons we have learned even in that short time. I am grateful for the perspective I have this morning, and that it didn't take me longer to get here. I am grateful we are fortunate enough that these were our worries.

Maybe next time I will not be so frightened when it begins to rain. Maybe next time I will remember.....

Babymoon

2008-10-04T12:46:00.002-06:00

When we first became pregnant we dreamed of a vacation on a beach somewhere as our last getaway before the third trimester hit and before we became new parents. We were going to spend long days lounging on the beach, drinking cold fruity drinks, frolicking in the surf and reading good books. Ha!

That was obviously before we realized all the costs involved with baby-having. Not that we're broke, but my working temp jobs here and there, our house projects, prepping for parenthood, etc...well they have left us a bit more realistic.

So, we are headed to a hotel downtown for the weekend. A hotel with a heated pool, a large bathtub in our room, room service, movies, and a really comfy bed. I. cannot. wait. To me, these amenities just about make up for the lack of an ocean view.

I am bringing books, supplies for facials (don't tell anyone I told you this, but Mr. Spicy likes the facials as much as I do!), sexy pj's, a swimsuit, a dress (for if we manage to actually leave the room), and not a whole lot else.

There are a lot of moments I hope will unfold this weekend for us, I hope it is romantic and reinvigorating and restful. But also?

I hope I get to eat a big giant ice cream sundae, that I didn't have to make, while sitting in a hot bathtub. And then? I want to read trashy gossip mags in a bed I won't have to make either.

I am aiming high here people!

So....are any of you pregnant ladies planning a "babymoon" of your own? (and don't you think the title of "babymoon" is a bit silly when you actually say it out loud?) What are you planning?
Or any moms out there have good babymoon stories to share?