clearframe

shift

self-portrait, September 2008

Over the past two weeks, I seem to have settled into a place of deep peace.  It's a little bit of a surprise to find myself here. Since Thea's birth, I've felt quite happy and content. However, I've also found myself feeling more than a little lost, with doubts weighing down my heart.

But now, for the most part, I feel different: I feel calm, settled, and centered. I feel like I'm more in touch with my intuition. I feel like I'm getting a hang of this mothering thing. And by that, I mean that I am settling into the constant readjustment that it requires. I'm getting used to the surprises and the shifts - sometimes subtle and sometimes drastic - that make each day an adventure. I feel more confident in my own style of parenting. And most importantly, each day, I feel such immense gratitude for all of the blessings in my life - my daughter, my husband, my family, my friends, health, nourishment, and a thousand other things. I am so thankful to spend my days with my daughter, watching her change and grow with each passing moment. Returning to gratitude has been such an amazing practice for me. I am still shocked that something so simple can be so powerful for me.

It feels natural to find myself here as the seasons shift. The other day, I was out with Thea on our morning walk, and I realized how grateful I was for the change in weather - for the break in the heat, for the crispness of the air, for the subtle changes in the landscape around me. I was aware of how lately, I've been welcoming change in all parts of my life. I've become aware that it doesn't scare me quite so much anymore. I'm coming to realize that the only thing that seems certain is change, so I'm trying to figure out how to go through it while keeping my heart open, to learn to let go of the need to feel in control, to see change as an opportunity for growth. I am learning to be more kind to myself, to embrace my imperfection, to welcome the mistakes and the fumbles and the learning that comes along with them. I'm feeling more and more okay just being me.

I don't want to overly romanticize things, or make it seem like I'm floating along in a happy daze. I've continued to struggle with finding balance and making time for self-care. I haven't had more than 4 consecutive hours of sleep in over 5 months, and some days, I'm tired down to my bones. The economic situation and political circus happening right now have given me more than a few headaches. And I've certainly had my moments. But now, it feels easier to let go, to surrender, to simply be in the moment I find myself in. And that feels really, really good.

om

I had a bit of a meltdown this morning.

I was on my way to my Thursday morning mom & baby yoga class. It was the first time that everything had fallen into place just so - Thea had actually taken a nap, the diaper bag was packed with blankets and toys, we were both dressed, and her belly was full. I had even managed to pack a lunch so that I could attend the moms' group that is held right after class. I was feeling good.

I let Rilo-dog out to take care of business while I got Thea situated in her carseat. I returned to the back door and opened it, calling her name. I didn't see her anywhere. I called again, and shook her box of cookies to get her attention. She came bounding around the side of the house with a dirt-caked bone clutched in her jaws.

I spent the next twenty minutes trying to convince her to drop the bone and come into the house. I tried calling her, bribing her, chasing her and giving her the evil eye. I even tried growling. I was getting angry. Really angry. In fact, it felt as if my head might explode. I finally lost it and shouted, "G*damm!t, Rilo, all I want is to go to my f&!#ing yoga class!"

Because I clearly needed it.

 I then went inside and cried and hung my head in shame at my outburst. It's really not like me to get so angry.

I finally got Rilo in the house and into her crate. It was too late to attend class, but I decided to put Thea in the car and drive for a few minutes, hoping to clear my head.

Then I came home and sat quietly while holding my girl in my lap. I did a little meditation, extending lovingkindness first to Rilo and then to myself. Rilo then came and laid down beside me, rolling on to her back. I couldn't help but rub her furry little belly.

It is all a bit humorous now. I hope I at least gave the neighbors a good chuckle.

Still, I've been thinking a bit about why I became so angry. Surely, it wasn't about missing my yoga practice. Truth be told, I hardly ever get to actually do any yoga in class because Thea generally requires my attention. Instead, I think it's about actually making it out of the house - on time - and going to a space where I am surrounded by other new mothers, all trying to find a few moments of self-focused calm among the cries and chaos. It reminds me that we're all bumbling through this together.

So, we'll try again next week. And if we don't make it, I'll try not to shout.

quiet

self-portrait [ without touch-up ]

I know - it's been quiet around here.

Partly, it's because we've been under the weather [ again ]. The fact that Thea has again been fighting sleep has also contributed. And , I've been busy cooking up new ideas for my jewelry business. But mostly, I haven't written because I've been too busy giving myself a hard time. I've even begun two or three posts about all of the thoughts rolling around in my head, but I'm never able to finish them, and that just frustrates me even more.

Lately, I've been struggling with deep feelings of inadequacy. I keep wondering when I'll feel like I have it together. Right now, I feel like pretty much all I can manage each day is mothering my little girl. And truly, this feels absolutely right. It's just that I just can't seem to help but feel like I'm falling short - as a friend, as a daughter, as a housekeeper, as a board member, as an artist, as a writer.

But, for the past couple of days, I've really tried to quiet my mind. I've tried to be more kind to myself. I've tried to stop comparing myself to those other mothers. You know, the ones who run a business from home while taking care of their two (or three!) children. The same ones who do that while organizing play dates, cooking nutritious meals for their families, dropping off a home-cooked meal for their friend with the new(er) baby and exercising most every day.

These days, I'm more aware of the negative chatter in my head. And this has been really helpful in redirecting myself. Mostly, I've been coming back to gratitude, consciously focusing on all of the big and small things that bring brightness into my life. I'm now also trying to affirm what I feel like I can offer instead of getting stuck in the places where I feel I'm lacking.

I'm learning that when I find myself slipping into these dark places, that I must fight against my instincts to withdraw and instead seek connection. These days, that means reaching out to fellow mamas. Just last week, a mama friend gently reminded me that I'm still in the infancy of my mothering experience - that five months of taking care of a wee one is really just a small amount of time. Another wise mama urged me to practice taking baby steps towards my goals instead of trying to manage it all in at once. This week, I took Thea to the grocery store alone for the first time. It feels silly to say that until this week, I hadn't felt like this was possible. I picked up vegetables to make salads for the rest of the week - that was all. It was something so small, but to me, it felt big. And now I know I can do that, and I can try something else. Baby steps.

It also helps that I keep stumbling across little bits of wisdom like this. And then I remember that it's okay to be right here. Because that's the only place I can be. I can only be who I am, where I am. 

What helps you to find your center?

perspective

smiles full of sunshine

Yesterday, as I paced the house for hours, trying every bit of magic in my bag of tricks to calm a very fussy Thea, I had a vision of her at fourteen. And it occurred to me rather suddenly that this is most likely the easy part.

confession

You may have noticed that it's been a little quiet around here. Part of it is because my days and nights are pretty much consumed with loving on my little girl, and most recently, trying to coax her - often unsuccessfully - towards sleep. There's not much time left for blogging (or eating or showering).

But also, I've been wading through some heaviness in my heart, and I have been uncertain about how much to share. You see, friends, I am very much in need of a stay in what my friend Jen Lemen calls the "Soul Repair Garage."  Much of this heaviness is left over residue from our long journey to bring our daughter into this world.  I have found that my wounds have not completely healed, that the scars are still bright red and tender to the touch. I am trying to understand what these tender places have to teach me about myself and the opportunities for growth that they present. I feel they are leading to a deeper understanding of myself and of the shadows I have walked in for a long time, long before my journey to be a mother began, before all of the loss and pain cracked me wide open.

I have also been struggling with how much of my experience of motherhood to share in this space. Wrestling with this question has led me to reflect on why I started writing in the first place, why I continued to write through our experience of babyloss, and about what urges me to write now. I have always tried to be transparent in my writing, but for some reason, it feels quite frightening and overwhelming to do that now. I'm afraid that if I write about the hard parts - the messy parts - the battles with my ego - that it will appear that I'm complaining, or that I'm not completely and utterly in love with and grateful for my daughter. Because the truth is that I am in awe of her and the magic she brings into my life - every single moment of every day. I am completely and utterly grateful for her presence, and for the opportunities she gives me to stretch my soul, to widen my heart, to surrender.

So, that's what's going on in my little world. Thanks for being along for the ride - wherever it takes me.

 

how does your garden grow?

gooseneck loosestrife growing in our garden

I have a garden in my backyard. The more time I spend in it, the more beautiful it becomes. Not because of the hard work, the weeding, cleaning, raking, the tasks and the sweat, but because I no longer view it as separate from me. From inside the garden, I no longer view it critically from arm's length as flawed, as less than perfect.

-From Momma Zen by Karen Maezen Miller

I am currently rereading (for the third time) Karen Maezen Miller’s book Momma Zen. One of the chapters – Tending Garden – is about the inevitable weathering of a relationship that occurs when partners become parents and the necessary work required to sustain the union. The analogy used in this chapter - comparing a marriage to a garden - immediately resonated with me.

Thirteen weeks after Thea's birth, I am witnessing changes in my own marriage. In so many ways, our relationship is deeper, richer, more complex. Traveling through my pregnancy together – and the three year journey that brought us to our daughter - wove our lives together tightly, and brought us new levels of trust, hope, understanding, and intimacy.

And yet, with a new person in our lives – a tiny girl for which we are entirely responsible - our relationship has changed. We are working to establish a rhythm that allows us to take care of each other as well as our daughter – to nurture not only our family, but also our individual passions and requirements for solitary space. And while these have been tough to balance, finding time and energy to cultivate our relationship as a couple has been even more challenging.

Since the night we were married, John and I have ended our days by pausing before sleep to appreciate the acts of love that the other has shown during the day. Often times, it’s just the simple things that we speak of – a lingering kiss during the bustle of the evening, preparing a meal, enjoying an evening stroll together. We often mention the chores that the other has done, particularly the more unpleasant ones.

Then Thea arrived. In the early days, with our world turned upside down, the lines between day and night blurred. Often, there was no bedtime – every few hours, one of us would pass our daughter into the other’s arms and collapse from sheer exhaustion. Out of our routine and out of rhythm, our nightly ritual was lost.

We’ve since reestablished this daily gesture, though some nights our appreciations are whispered, with eyes closed, spoken quickly as we drift of for a few hours of sleep.

I believe that pausing for a few moments each night to reflect on the ways that John has nurtured me, our family, and our relationship during that day helps to remind me that we are in this together, that this garden is ours to tend together – that we are this garden. The irony is that recounting these tangible acts helps me to focus less on the “work” that goes into building and maintaining our life together and more on the fruits of our labor – the living, evolving entity that is us.It helps me to release any built-up frustration by reminding me that we both contribute to our marriage. And though what we each bring is different, what we offer is equally necessary and valuable.

How do you nurture your relationship amid the day-to-day responsibilities of living? How does your garden grow?

into the light

Last night, I dreamt that I lost her.

We were waiting for her adoption to be finalized; I was counting the days until we could bring her home. Technically, she wasn't yet my daughter, but I knew that I was supposed to be her mother.

And then she was gone. I wasn't sure how or why, but I felt certain I would never see her again.

I woke in a panic, my hands desperately searching for her. And there she was, sleeping soundly beside me.

It had all been a nightmare, a terrible mistake.

I wept, relieved, still trembling with fear.

And though she was safe - though she was right there next to me - fear gripped my heart tightly, refusing to release its grip.

During my pregnancy, fear found me on a daily basis. Sometimes it simply lurked near the surface of my awareness. Sometimes, I was nearly swallowed by its intensity. After everything, each day required a conscious decision to believe in possibilities instead of the past, to believe in hope instead of fear.

The passing weeks - weeks bringing us closer to her arrival - also brought new challenges, new complications. Toward the end of my pregnancy, John and I held each other close, whispering our doubts:

What if we don't make it?

What if we're not strong enough?

What will we do if the  unthinkable happens?

In hushed voices, we talked about death.

And now she is here. Each day, I spend hours gazing at her, marveling at her presence, often in utter disbelief that she is alive and well. And each day - at least once - {if not a dozen times} - I am gripped by fear, terrified that I will lose her.

Countless scenarios flash before me . Car accidents. SIDS. Horrible illnesses. These are just a few.

When these thoughts force their way into my mind, I attempt to bring myself back to the present. I try to pay attention to what is right in front of me. Over and over, I remind myself, "In this moment, she is safe."

But while I know that worrying about the "what-ifs" distracts me from the magic of the present moment,the fear remains - lingering, lurking, pulling me back.

And so, in those moments of doubt, I will continue to search for new ways to embrace the now, to face uncertainty, to walk out of the shadows and into the light.

voice of the muse

self-portrait, wearing my sparkly, i-feel-pretty earrings by keen designs

What our creativity calls to us cannot wait. The images and voices of the muse are inspired in the moment. Trying to hold it back is like trying to prevent gravity from pulling on the ocean's tides.

Creativity is not designed for fitting into a mother's busy day, nor is it convenient. It may disrupt our sleep, invade our dreams, and distract our thoughts until we give it expression. If we try to stave off its advances and ask it to wait until the children leave home, we may find ourselves stranded without inspiration.

-from Meditations for New Mothers, by Beth Wilson Saavedra

Often, in the evening hours approaching bedtime, my husband will see me pecking away at the computer, and he will urge me to close my laptop, to go to sleep, to rest. And I do need to sleep. But lately, I have been compelled to write. My heart is full with raw emotions. My mind is slowly processing all of the events of the past several months. And so I write to keep this energy flowing, to continue opening those locked doors of my heart, to quiet my mind.

Now that Thea has been here for a few weeks, we are starting to settle into our new normal. Right now, this normal means that no two days look the same. I feel consumed with her - nurturing her and sustaining her in a very physical sense, but also with drinking in her simple magnificence and the miraculousness of everything that she is. And yet, I know that sometime in the future, my focus will expand, and I'll be able to start thinking about and working towards other interests.

close-up of keen earrings pictured above

It's been quite a while since I've felt truly inspired to create any  new pieces for my line of handcrafted jewelry. Each day, I walk into my studio - freshly painted and organized and just waiting for the finishing touches. I pass by the table where I work. I see all of the drawers filled with beautiful stones, the bins where I store my tools. I see projects that were started but not finished before my pregnancy required me to pause. I want to work. But even if I had the time, I don't feel ready yet. I'm curious to find out when inspiration will strike once again.

I used to think that I wasn't a creative person. That was back in the day when I mistakenly associated "creative" with "artistic." And that, I certainly was not. But as I've grown older and more comfortable in my own skin, I've come to firmly believe that I am in fact creative, and that we are all creative beings. I believe that we all find unique ways to solve problems and to bring beauty into our lives. I believe that we all have urges to create, to give birth to our own ways of existing, to guide our inspiration into the light.

I have always had difficulty in finding time to just let myself be. Yet, this is the space where my creative spark catches and bursts into a bright flame. So now, in the thick of motherhood, I'm curious to discover the new ways that my creativity will find expression.

How do you pause to honor your creativity? How do you let your spirit shine?

in this moment

Living in the present moment is something I've struggled with for a long time. My mind is constantly racing with endless lists of things that I've convinced myself need to be done. An ongoing  "to-do" list  is pretty much always on my desk, and, on a daily basis, I typically add more things than I cross off. I also have a (separate) list of things I'd like to do, but never really seem to find time to fit in - craft projects to try, books to read, places to visit, classes to take, blog posts to write. Our bookshelves are overflowing with books on gardening, knitting, metalsmithing, connecting with your spiritual side, making relationships work, and starting your own business, to name a few.

You see, I'm often most comfortable seeking out information, gathering facts, making lists, and planning (or reflecting, sometimes endlessly - usually on what I could have done better). And, most often, instead of over-processing every little thing, what I really need to be doing is showing up in each moment mindfully, paying attention to what is happening around me right-this-very-instant, listening to my intuition, and diving into my life head-first.  Because here's the irony of it all - I actually learn best and figure things out by doing and experiencing, not by reading and thinking and  over-complicating things with too much information.

I've tried really hard, and I can say that it has become a bit easier over the years. But it is also something that I have to work at every single day. And often, I don't succeed.

Over the past six and a half weeks, it's gotten a whole lot easier. Having Thea in my life requires that I am in the moment - pretty much all of the time. This is partly because I have so much to learn about her to be able to effectively mother her and take care of her. But it's also because she is the most amazing, miraculous thing in my life and I don't want to miss a single moment. Suddenly, what the books say doesn't matter as much as what my heart whispers. And the best way to hear those murmurs has been to put away the books and to sit quietly while my intuition speaks.

For now, the lists are gone. Right now, the only thing that makes sense is to focus on what is right in front of me. 

And yet, I know it won't always be this way. Thea will continue to grow and change and blossom into  her own person. She'll become more independent. Outings will seem less complicated. Getting together with friends will feel more manageable. We'll get into a rhythm. I'll emerge slowly back into the world. I'll resume my work. Hopefully, I'll discover new ways of contributing to the community.  I'll make more commitments.

And with these changes, I'm afraid that I'll drift back into the endless lists and the over-booked days. I'm afraid that I will return to looking outside of myself for answers when I should be searching for answers and guidance deep in the trenches of my soul. I'm afraid that I'll stop paying attention to the little, ordinary things that bring such joy into my life. I want to show up in my life mindfully. I want to continue to pay attention to the magic of the everyday. I want to do all this as I re-enter and reconnect with the big world out there.

So, I will go forward slowly. I'll try to carefully consider how I spend my days. I'll try to make sure that what is most important always comes first. I'll try to continue being guided by my intuition.

But I know it won't be easy.

So, in the midst of your busy life, how do you stay connected to the present moment? How do you find ways to slow down and enjoy what is right in front of you? How do you remember to listen to your heart? To follow your spirit?

gaining

Thea in her great-grandfather's arms.

All of our hard work this weekend paid off.

Thea is up to 8 pounds, 8 ounces - a gain of 7 ounces in 4 days.

The pediatrician was thrilled. Of course, so was I.

Right now, she's nursing pretty much all the time without the nipple shield. She even seems to like nursing without the shield much better than with it, as long as we can get the latch right.

I feel re-energized around breastfeeding. I feel like the two of us are going to make it work.

And, I wore her in the Moby wrap most of the day. It was wonderful - I got to have her snuggled close and I got to eat something besides cereal. I even cleaned up the dishes and washed a load of laundry.

I think the two of us are finding our way.