Might be easier just to sell the house

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

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

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

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

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*

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

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.

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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

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

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

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: