Christmas thoughts

Last year, I had a huge Christmas "crisis" as I struggled with what to emphasize with Nori. This year, I am confronted with the same questions, but do feel in agreement with my resolve last year that Jesus would be the story I talked about the most. I remember my fear that Jesus would be too watered down and insincere if I attempted to correlate my dear religion to the craziness of Christmas in America. As Nori is begining to be exposed to the symbols around her, trees, lights, images of Santa, it is fun to see her brain make sense of it all. And I realize that she is on her own journey that I don't always control.

She told us that Santa is pretend, and that she wants to be Santa and wear a costume. She knows that Christmas is in honor of Jesus's birth so she sets up the nativity sets as though they were a birthday party- her all time favorite event. So I tell her that the star shows the way to the party and that people traveled from far away to bring gifts.She arranges them  and sings Happy Birthday to Jesus as she cradles him. Birthdays and babies- two things she "gets."

In line with her birthday obsession, she often states her birthday is "coming up." When I told her it was after Jesus's, she was not too happy and insisted hers come first.  When I ponder what she loves about birthdays, I realize it is the celebration spirit: the people coming together, the beauty of candles and cake, the decorations. But most of all, I imagine it is the "vibe" that I have put off around birthdays and the vibe that is present in these celebrations.  I pray that we can allow Christmas to be about this vibe of being together, of lovingly giving the "birthday kid" all the attention. 
I realize they left out the food in the manger scenes. Surely Mary was ravenous after giving birth and the first few days of nursing. And surely at a celebration there were treats for those that traveled "from afar."

In another vein, I have also been considering the threats of the "elf on the shelf" and Santa's naughty and nice list.  We were shopping and an older, ableit a little scary, woman whispered in Nori's ear, "you know who is coming? You better not be naughty," Nori was understandably confused, what does naughty mean? But really, who is coming? Advent is defined as Jesus is coming!  Much of our parenting a two year old includes the "if you ________, then you will get_____" phrases. I am exhausted by and unsure of these tactics at times. And surely, I don't want to make Christmas yet another behavior bribe. If we are going to allow religion to come into Christmas, shouldn't it reflect the beauty of God's grace, of unearned gifts?
I am also disturbed by how if there is a naughty and nice list, who is on the naughty list? And how sad for Nori to think that there might be kids somewhere that don't get gifts because they were bad.

So, today is St Nick's day. As I read about him, I am most struck by his love for children. Just because they are children, he cared for them and gave small treats. Children are in a sense the innocence of humanity, let's not suck them into our adult world of performance and earning.
So I think in some sense St Nick will come by our house, as the giver of gifts- just because. Not because anyone has been nice. As a reflection and celebration of the gift of the grace- of Jesus. And there will be food and joy and singing and candles.

I am two months old!

Hi everyone! It's Miriam:) I am so relaxed that my mom had to twist my arm to write in this blog.
I would rather chill out and enjoy the good life- boobs, sleeping and pooping.
My favorite past time to get my parents attention is throwing up. I spit up 3-4 times after every feeding. At least onece a day I throw in a good projectile vomiting. I like to do it in public places or when Mom doesn't have a burp cloth handy.
This morning was perfect, we were at Please Touch and Mom only brought her purse so she wouldn't have to carry much. I was nursing but she was trying to read the news on her phone and watch Nori in her Elmo costume (everyone thought she was sooo cute.) So I decided to remind Mom that I was around, huge vomit that went down her pants and all in the Ergo. Awesome.
I have been smiling a lot lately. I smile at Mom and Dad's faces the most. I also like my mobile and ceiling fans. Today I was acting like I didn't know how to hold the pacifier in my mouth, so Mama had to keep coming over to give in to me. About the 4th time I couldn't fake it anymore and just started smiling so much.When I smile my eyes disappear because they are small and my cheeks are big.
I haven't laughed yet, I am waiting for something worthy of it. So far it's pretty boring around her. The Big one talks A LOT and cries A LOT. I like it when she is around though because she always makes lots of noises with different toys and shows me them. Mom and Dad barely notice me, I am glad at least she does. Mom left me downstairs with her one morning and when she came back I was covered in stickers and had about 4 stuffed animals all around me.
Mama says I am EASY. I wake up two times at night to eat and sleep most of the day. When I sleep I make this humming noise that Mama says is her absolute favorite sound in the world. She has been video taping me trying to capture it. I also sleep with my eyes open sometimes- just to let them know not to try any funny business while I am sleeping.
I discovered TV this week! Dad usually lets me sleep on the couch with him in the evenings. He noticed that if he doesn't face me toward the TV I strain to look at it:)
Okay, got to get back to my beauty sleep. Don't wake me unless there's an emergency.
Love
Miriam

Meltdown

I finished Anne Lamont's "operating instructions" yesterday. Her words, a journal of her son's first year, have been food for my soul.
She writes, " it is so incredibly hard to let go of one's passion for control."
How true. This adventure is parenting the past two months has taken me beyond my usual ability to control life. It has also revealed some pretty not pretty parts of me.
I realize I go through life getting "hits" (as Lamont refers to them) of pleasure by setting up tasks I can accomplish or manage. My acceptance of myself is gauged by these moments of feeling "I did it." I see how I not only create the task list in order to feel this way, but how in looking outward to controlling the world (granted my world is quite small at 354 E Church lane right now) I avoid myself.
I came face to face with myself last week. I had a meltdown. "Despondent," is the word that best describes where I was. Pete came home to find me, Nori and Miriam all crying in a dark room.
I told him I couldn't be a mom anymore. I ached for someone to strip off my vomit covered clothes and lay me in bed  and sleep for a very very long time.
I felt this meltdown coming. I was on a binge of getting high off of doing and controlling for a few days. I hadn't stopped or checked in with myself. Then I went to a doctor's appointment that presented some overwhelming news. I had planned to can applesauce afterwards which I headed straight into like an addict that couldn't say no to doing. I burned my face while canning and the downward spiral from my "high" began.  I plummeted to a low when I picked up Nori from school, my face throbbing and Miriam crying. I told her that I needed her to be good because I was hurt and tired. That didn't go over too well. Now realizing that no kid wants to see their parent weak nor be a parent to them.
 All of this passed thanks to a wonderful husband, some rest and of course ice cream.
But I am at a new place this week. If I read Anne Lamont's words last week they wouldn't mean what they do to me now.
Dear God, please allow me to seek serenity in the now. That the goal is not to manage my kids or the day but to enjoy them. To be the beloved of God, by starting with loving myself.

"Time Off": A conversation about maternity leave. . .

I am on maternity leave. This "time off" has been passing week by week, yet somehow I still feel like I am floundering a bit in finding my direction with it. I am awkward in it.
An example of this is how I have lived the past 20 minutes.  I made lunch and sat down. Miriam was resting by herself. Then I decided to it would be nice to watch something on TV, I started and stopped 3 different movies. The first with subtitles, that won't work because I can't look at screen while nursing, etc., the second was too violent, the third I started and was just getting into when Miriam wanted to nurse. I nursed her, then she threw up, pooped through diaper. I changed her and kept trying to watch the movie. Then I finished my lunch. Miriam was falling asleep on me and then I remembered I wanted to practice my baby massage on her while Nori was napping still. She wasn't into the massage, and started to cry. I couldn't have her wake up Nori, so I stopped. But I didn't want to redress her in case I could do it later. I stopped the movie, but put some music on to keep Miriam soothed. I held Miriam, made a cup of tea, and attempted to read my book. Miriam fell asleep and I thought I "should" write on blog, so I transferred her to the couch.

I long for a guide to navigate me through this time. Something to help me manage the "wants", the "shoulds", the "need tos" that are in my head.
One voice says take care of yourself- watch movies, read books, drink tea.
Another says enjoy the newborn and do extra "super mom" stuff- learn baby massage, hold her for her naps, take her photo.
There's also the productive voice that tells me to put Miriam down if she's sleeping and do the laundry, clean out a cupboard, pay the bills.
This is all on top of  the requirements of the day that can't be avoided- feeding everyone, changing diapers, taking Nori to the potty, dressing ourselves.

So, you can see it can be a bit schizophrenic, this maternity leave thing. Which voice do I follow? There is no boss or deadline or way to measure my days. Just me, my voices, and these two crazy kids. Every day. All day.
The outside voices of others say,  "Enjoy your time off." or "Hope you're getting a lot done." or "You won't have time off like this again until you're retired." Although there are all well meaning,
these comments are anxiety producing for me because I fear- am I doing it right? They all emphasize how fast these time is going, which I realize and causes even more anxiety. Am I enjoying her enough? Am I resting enough? Am I getting enough done?
Of course all this "time off" is through the lens of sleeplessness and a good bit of hormonal instability. I was talking about my misdirection in this season with a friend this morning and she asked me to look at my time like a pie chart.
If that's the case, I would wager that 40% is spent in required activities- feeding, dressing, diapering, potty time, dishes. These we must do to survive. Another 10% is spent doing house stuff- laundry, cleaning, organizing. These things don't "have" to be done but if I don't do them I would be living in pig sty and really lose my sanity. That leaves 50% of my time to choose how to use.
 I would guess I spend 20% enjoying Miriam's newborn-ness,  playing with them both, or Nori centered activities. The other 20% I do things for me: naps, tea,friends, exercise, coffee (actually this should be under  the required survival category)books, movies.
That leaves 10%.
This is the time I am trying to make "count." I have thoughts of how I wish I could write and publish a  book on this topic of maternity leave during maternity leave to help other women. (Yes, sleeplessness causes unrealistic visions of grandeur.)  I should be making all my christmas gifts, canning applesauce, and cleaning out cupboards. I can feel unnecessary guilt at not tackling these. This would be one of my main topics in my book- let go of quilt and any desire to be accomplished:)

I had my 6 week postpartum check yesterday. It was nice to have a chance to sit and process Miriam's birth. To pause in all this "doing" to realize- a being, a LIFE, came through me and into our home and hearts. Regardless of how I am spending my days (and nights,) this is the highest calling- to be aware of the divinity all around me.To be present.
May this voice to "be present" be louder than all the others. Whether working at a job or on maternity leave, my family (me included) is not something to be managed- but enjoyed.
So as the day comes with all of its shoulds, wants, and have-tos, I hope to be present. The day will pass, one way or the other. My maternity leave will end soon. I hope the memories are snapshots of  beauty and not any great accomplishment. Then maybe years from now, I will come back to this blog posting and write that book.

Onesie anyone?

I've been thinking a lot the past month of how being a post partum mom and a newborn are a lot alike.
For starters, there is enough "bodily maintenance" to last all day. For baby- diapering, nursing, lotions, baths. For mom- diapering (oh yes!), nursing, lotions and baths. By the time we are both clean and fed it's noon and time to begin again.
I feel like I need to eat as often as she does- so hungry from breastfeeding!
Then there's the crying. Nori asks a million times a day- why is Miriam crying? And I reply with the same few answers "babies don't have words" or "sometimes we don't know why babies cry."  Sometimes Mommy cries and we don't know why too. And sometimes Mommy can't find words.
And the sleepiness. Miriam gets to drift in and out of this wonderful foggy state of being. I drift in and out of being coherent as well. We both look a bit glazed over most of the time.
The other evening when the weather got chillier, I woke up to find that I had swaddled myself in my sheets. She too finds comfort in being swaddled.
There is one thing that I don't get to have that she does. And I am jealous. She gets to wear those onesies that have the long sleeves to cover her hands. What a state of dependency to get to have your hands covered all day. And what a state of not doing anything, but allowing others to care for you.
I wish I could wear one and lay in bed all day.

Miriam's Hospital Stay

A lot has happened in the week since I have written. Miriam (and I ) were in the hospital for 3 nights. It started out with an afternoon of fussiness and when we took her temperature it was 101. Pete and I were off to the hospital with her after getting Nori situated.
Like most crises I find myself remaining calm and down playing the seriousness up to a certain point. When we started our adventure, my biggest concern was all the poking and prodding I knew they would put her thru. I wasn't that worried that something was actually "wrong."
Poked and prodded they surely did- drawing blood, urine catheter, xrays, lumbar puncture. They gave her some tylenol, her fever came down, and I was ready to go home to bed. She was cooing happily.

No such luck. We were told she would be admitted. I was still okay with this, thinking it would be one night and surely not too uncomfortable- we were at CHOP, supposedly the best hospital in the nation. They would have a nice spacious room for us to rest. My cool was fading fast after waiting several more hours for a room. I was  starting to lose it.We got to her room, Pete left. And I lost it.

Her temperature spiked to 103, they started 3-4 different anitbiotics, and was connected to heart monitors, pulse ox, ivs. Doctors and nurses filed in one after another to our room. They smiled and talked about things that were all starting to blur together. I would nod and try to appear calm.
Then the worst night of my life began.

Miriam was tethered to her array of machines next to a crib where she was expected to sleep. There was a small bed a few feet away where I was expected to sleep. The cords didn't reach.
There were several variables that no one addressed. She was two weeks old and I barely knew how to soothe, nurse and change her diaper at home, let alone in this jungle of cords, with nowhere for me to lay next to her (I did consider more than once climbing into the crib.) The most horrible fact was that  she was in terrible pain, moaning and whimpering with a fever of 103. The machines beeped, the hallway lights glared into our little torture chamber of a corner of a room and I haven't even mentioned our roommate yet. She was a few weeks old as well with just as many cries as Miriam and two parents that snored, boy did they snore.
I tried to comfort Miriam. Then I would lay her down and go to my cot. Five minutes later someone was crying- I was back up to see if it was Mira or our roomate. Then a machine would beep. The bathroom door would slam, a nurse would come in. I was delirious. I was delirious with the lack of sleep. I was trapped, like on an airplane ride that wouldn't end. And worst of all every few minutes I was overwhelmed with fear- my baby had a fever and the doctors kept saying "there is nothing else we can do." It was viral meningitis. 

For the next two days, her little body shook and moaned. She curled up on Pete or I's chest and we held her tight. In the daylight, things seemed a little better. I couldn't stopped crying. Maybe it was the postpartum hormones, or lack of sleep. But mostly it was feeling this little creature tremble, as though my own body was trembling. She came out of me two weeks ago. It was my blood and body that created her and pushed her into her miniature breathing and pooping self. And now stuck to me, my body wanted to do all it could to cause her to survive.
I entered this strange hyperalert state. I had no mental capability beyond nursing, holding her, crying, and eating. Man, I wanted to eat everything in sight. I was in survival mode and something told me to eat, to nurse, to stay awake.
There was of course, the occaional trip to the bathroom, a five minute no soap shower, or a visit from Nori or a friend.  These things were welcomed distractions, but before long, I was driven back to the room by a force greater than myself- to will this little baby to health. By day four, her fever broke. I could feel my heart relax. I thought about my bed at home. I was finally able to feel the fatigue.

During our stay, I didn't  pray. I had a faint feeling that God was present but I didn't feel the ability to enter into any spiritual part of myself. I was too consumed by this vigilant  mother state of doing things.
I was amazed at the friends and family that reached out with visits, with calls and texts. This was something tangible. I was held up by their love This was my faith when I couldn't summon the faith to talk directly to God. When I couldn't pray, others did.

Now, looking back, after many many hours of sleep, I wonder did I really believe God would help Miriam? Is my faith what I thought it was? Or maybe that is what believing is all about- realizing how little I believe.  Being able to be weak, to depend on friends and family, to love beyond where I know it is going "to be okay." To be mothered by God.

Oh- what love God must have for us, even if it is a fraction of what I feel for little Miriam.
We are blessed to be called children of God.

Someone's Mother-Again

I was looking at Miriam's birth photos today and was struck by the fact that I am someone's mother. The one who grew her inside of me, brought her into the world through me- literally. And now that she born, the one she is dependent on for life. The one who will adore and love her. The one who knows her little self more than any other. Yet today I realize I must enter this knowing of her with curiosity and patience. It was a long night.
Throughout the night, I didn't know if she wanted swaddled tighter, or to take it off. If she was hungry or too full and gasy. Was she hot or cold? Was her diaper wet bothering her? Did she want to be upright or on her side. All night we thrashed around the room together in a sea of blankets, leaking breast milk, pillows, nipple cream, snacks and spit up. Both her clothes and mine strewn everywhere in my attempts to adjust each of our temperatures multiple times throughout the night. I am surprised to find that my mothering is not as natural as I thought. After a night of trying "everything" to soothe her, my prayer this morning was- let me get to know Miriam Lord. I feel that I am not the mother I am supposed to be, the one that I feel I am for Nori in the sense of knowing her so well.
It is Monday, I was grateful to bring Nori to school and have a chance to just be Miriam's mom. To bath her slowly, trim her nails, massage her with special baby oil. And to lazily ponder over the past two weeks of her photos. I read a baby books re her development and spent five minutes sticking out my tongue to see if she will imitate me as the book says she may.  I dusted off the mobile and decided she would have "play time." After all this I called Pete and found myself crying on the phone. I didn't feel particularly hormonal before calling. I talked to him about the morning and how she was still fussy despite all my attention and energy. He seemed world's away in a place with adults that required him to be working. Here I was in this small bubble of a morning, with my baby. I cried because I felt alone, this bubble is meant to only hold the two of us today.

I hung up with Pete and debated a shower as I tried to continue to rock her as she whimpered.
Maybe a shower will make me feel more human and clear my mind. I looked down to realize she was asleep as I also realized I had forgotten the most logical explanation for her cries- she was hungry.
I hadn't fed for for over two hours.
Again, I am someone's mother, and I must start again in getting to know this little one. I need grace, I need showers. I need a little sleep and a little common sense wouldn't hurt either.