Moments

I am lying in the middle of a king bed in a hotel room, waiting for my husband to get back from his training, with my 18 month old's head on my stomach. Her knees tuck under her in the child's pose, her curls scrunch against my shirt, and her back moves up and down as she finally naps.

I want to lie here forever. I want to breathe her entirely in, to drink up the precious calm, to be as engulfed by her as she is by me.

I want to write about moments with her. About her giggle, about the way she looks up at me from the jogging stroller, about the way her eyes are fading from blue to brown after all this time.

I want to write about how crazy I am about her, about how she is my everything, about how nothing else in my life has ever made me feel so complete, so in love, so full of everything.

But it feels like a lie.

Even though it isn't.

Some days, most days, I feel touched out. I want to be left alone. I want to be a grown up for a while and be able to think straight for a minute. I want to do things that feel big, that make me feel competent and smart, that make me feel like a rational human being.

Today was bad. I felt angry. I couldn't look at her. I thought someone else needed to come and take over because I couldn't possibly continue to parent.

I thought worse things too.

But those things don't tell the story of who I am as a mom.

When she wakes up, there will be a moment when she rolls over and gazes directly into my face. She will position herself like an infant cradled in my arms. She will touch my nose, her nose, my eyes, her eyes. Neither of us will speak. In that moment, I will feel more connected to another human being than I ever thought possible. I will be completely consumed by love and I will know that she is too, and I won't question why.

And then she will want a cracker, or to watch TV, or to play with her ball, and we will both go about our day as if neither moment, the good or the bad, happened.

More things I like about me

Six months ago, I got pressured by my sweetest bloggy friends into writing a post of Things I like about me for a link up with the lovely Ciao Mom. It was the hardest post I'd ever written.

That link up led to the creation of Elena's project Just Be Enough, a group blog that I love and admire very much. I've followed their posts and participated in their link ups. Then last week I got an email saying that they were bringing back Things I like about me.

Seriously? I have to do this again?!?

So, here we go.

• I have a gift for listening. I really hear what people say.
  
• I am very self aware. That's not always the easiest gift to carry, but it has made my life richer.
  
• I'm a fast learner.
  
• I am full of stories, and I see stories everywhee.
  
• I know how to make people smile.
  
• In the past year, I have been braver than I've been in my whole life.
  
• I'm a good teacher. Even when I'm not teaching.
  
• I'm a good mom. A really good mom.
  

Thanks Elena and the rest of the Just Be Enough Me team. Thanks for helping me learn how to be this person.

Check out where I am today

If you know me, you know I'm not good at bragging or taking credit when something good happens.  So I'm going to just try to get this all out at once.

OMGoneofmypostswascuratedonBlogHertodaysqueeeeee.

Ahem.

Go ahead on over and check out the snippet on BlogHer.   Love and glitter are always welcome.  Mostly love.

If it's your first time here?  Some of my favorite posts:

On Momnesia
On why my love is enough
My letter to PR companies
A translation guide for husbands.

Say hi and stay a  while.  I'll make the tea.  You are always, always welcome.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Momblogville

With special love to Lindsay, Rach, and my dearest "real life" bestie Elizabeth.

I've never been good at making friends. The few close friends I have who have stood the test of time are people who stumbled into my life in one way or another (be it through band or math club or the campus housing lottery), and for that I am so grateful. They may be spread around the country - world even - but they are still a part of me.

But going out and meeting people? Is hard.

When I was working, I had a group of girls I would go out for drinks with after school on Fridays. But then I realized that they all saw each other other times too, and went to each other's houses and weddings. They genuinely liked me, and I don't fault them for any of it, but they didn't know me. That wasn't their fault. I didn't say much.

After I had Baby Girl,I knew I needed to get out. For me, it was a turning point in my depression when I got out of my house and met people. I joined a MOMS Club, and I am so glad that I did. It's pleasant, and I feel comfortable there, and they really genuinely like me.

But sometimes I go there and wonder if I will ever belong.

I go to meetings and I listen, but I don't talk much. Thank God for my extroverted little girl who keeps me in the thick of things at playgroups (although, she is a notorious mommy stealer. Other babies beware). I have started to wonder whether as an adult woman, I am just not likely to ever again make the kinds of friends I have been blessed with since adolescence. You know, the kind you can just sit with and have a cup of tea and a piece of cake, but you can also lean on them and pour out your hearts and dreams. I have my few close friends, and maybe, I've thought many times, maybe I'm done. Maybe I should stop looking.

But then I met all of you.

Since I've been blogging, I have been overwhelmed by the community I have found. There are women out there like me, who understand me, who are willing to listen to me pour out my heart and soul and guts and who at the end of it all? Still like me.

On the twitter, we sometimes joke about how we wish there were a Momblogville, where we could all stop by each other's houses for tea and have the best playgroups in the world, and where Hobby Lobby would never close.

We say to each other, "I wish Momblogville were real."

Well, I'm going to tell you right now. It is. You, my dears, are some of the most real friends I have.

So stop on over for tea any time. Oh and if you can? Bring cake.

My not so surprising one word

I had no intention of writing a one word post. I mean, I already wrote about how I feel about the New Year, and I don't think I could be any more clear that what I am looking for is peace and purpose. So I was done, and I was ready to go about the business of living the new year without any more ado.

But my words had different ideas.

Every time I read a one word post from someone else, and tried to comment on it, I heard one thing in the back of my head.

Kindness.

And then finally one day, "Kindness, DUMMY."

Oh. (Although you're kind of missing the point there, self.)

I've been searching for purpose, searching everywhere except apparently my own brain and heart. There is little doubt in my mind now that kindness is my purpose.

And so 2012 will be the year of kindness. Kindness in all things, no matter how small they may be. Because in the end, that's all that truly matters.

And maybe, just maybe if I'm brave enough, kindness to myself.

On gratitude

Every morning that I'm on twitter (errm, every morning) I try to remember to post a list of 3 things I am grateful for. I don't know whose idea this was originally. I know that I stole it.

Most mornings, I putz around and think of things to be grateful for: my coffee (okay, it's my coffee a lot), my slippers, my friends, the roof over my head, butter. I know I should be grateful for these things, and I AM grateful for them. I have a healthy baby, a loving husband, amazing friends, and in most ways in my life I have Enough. No matter how much I am struggling, it's hard to stay cranky when you are listing the good things in your life.

But this morning? I just wasn't feeling it. I mean sure I like my coffee. My slippers are comfy. I know I'm lucky to have a warm house and a comfy sweater and butter. So much butter. But did I feel grateful? Did it give me that warm, fuzzy, you-can't-be-mad kind of feeling?

No.

I wrote a list several times and deleted it. It felt shallow. Contrived. I was fully ready to give up, to give myself permission to just not feel grateful this morning. And that would have been okay. But instead I wrote this:

Today I am grateful for my baby's smiles, for experiences that have taught me empathy and for the chance to be part of something. #listof3

— story3girl (@story3girl) January 5, 2012

And as soon as I wrote it, I got that sense of peace again. Because I truly am grateful for every moment of my life. And if I can be grateful even for the hardest of moments? Then what do I have to be cranky about?

Actually? I'm okay

I've been struggling for a while. Being a mom is hard, any which way you slice it. I was lonely, I was tired, I was bored and yet overwhelmingly busy.

But lately? I've been okay. It's funny how that's almost as hard to admit as that I'm not okay. I'm almost afraid that if I say it, then somehow the bottom will drop out and I'll be lost again.

Am I still tired? Yes. My precious baby - errm - toddler woke up 4 times last night, inconsolable. Is it still hard? Yes. Heck yes. Let's just say some little misses around here have decided to wholeheartedly embrace the label of toddler.

But? Something has turned. Something is better. There is a peace running through my days now that I haven't seen in a while, that I may have seen never. Does that mean I always feel peaceful? No. Some days the anxiety monster still knocks me on my butt. But when it does, I can see it as that. It doesn't take over my life.

Some days I get a lot done: I make comfort food, I vacuum my carpets, I write blog posts. Some days all I want to do is get out and see other human beings. Some days I need to just sit on my couch in my yoga pants and watch my Baby Girl play (or beg her not to flip over my trashcan).

And you know what? That's okay. Because there're no wrong answers. I just need to do whatever I need to do on any given day. I know that now. And that's why I'm going to be alright.

Science

A couple weeks ago, I got a call from the Infant Cognition lab at a major university near me. A cold call. They even asked me if I had a baby.

But then they asked if we wanted to participate in a study. I thought about it for a second and then thought "well, what else am I doing?" and agreed. So I made an appointment.

This morning, Baby Girl and I drove downtown. A grad student met us at the gate to swipe us in with her access card. She walked us inside, got some demographic information and went over some consent forms with me.

Then Baby Girl and I watched an animation of some balls bouncing off each other. For about 10 minutes. And that was the whole study. The research assistant gave Baby Girl a board book as her compensation for participating, explained to me the purpose and the preliminary findings of the study (oh, be still my teacher's heart), and we were on our way.

Did we cure autism this morning? Did we make a major breakthrough in human development? Did we pioneer new methods for early childhood education.

Neh. But I like to think we did our own little part. For science.

And I'm me again

So, my MOMS Club activity for today was coffee at Dunkin Donuts. I didn't RSVP because with all the craziness I just didn't know how much I'd have time to do. Everyone who had RSVP'd had said "maybe," so as far as I knew no one was even coming.

But the worst that could happen was I'd have coffee and a doughnut with Baby Girl, right? And at best I'd get to hang out with mamas and talk and get out of my funk.

Well, actually, maybe that wasn't the best.

No one was there when I got there, so I got my coffee, a bagel, and a doughnut (umm, yeah, I'd eaten breakfast already. What? Don't judge! Did I mention BG is nursing *every hour* again??), and pulled the stroller over to a corner table. We were there for a while just eating and making eyes at each other before anyone came in.

I saw her walk in with the carseat in her hand, and knew right away she must be the new member who had just joined. I'd seen her name on the list. If I hadn't been there, she would have shown up to her first event and been all by herself.

For the next half hour, we talked (and ate). Her entire face lit up, and I could tell she had been in a place I had been not so long ago. She felt isolated. She felt trapped in her house.

She felt like suddenly someone had turned a light on and she had realized there were other people like her.

We talked about naps (even though, yeah, her 3 month old is a better sleeper than my 13 month old. Sigh), tummy time, sign language. We talked about story time at the library. I told her how glad I was that she had joined, how important it was to get out and see other people. She nodded.

She looked like she could suddenly breathe again. I knew that feeling. I knew it particularly because at that moment I realized I could breathe again. I remembered who I am, what I love, what I believe in.

Peace and purpose? May already be within my grasp.

Getting Better

Today's post is from a lovely twitter newbie, Jenny. She is a PPD warrior mom, and she doesn't have her own blog yet, but she totally should. Give her some love today for me, okay?

I’m Jen. I met a wonderful guy eleven years ago. We got married eight years ago. Four years ago, we had our first little girl who we nicknamed Munch, short for Munchkin. We adored this little girl. It was a bit of a rough adjustment. We were nervous first-time parents. We read lots of books and asked our families for advice. We had so much fun with Munch, and she was the apple of our eye. Once Munch turned two, we decided that it was time to add to our family.

Then along came our second little girl, Skeeter. I really wanted a sibling for Munch, but I was so nervous about how Munch would adjust to the new arrival. I am a typical first born, Type A, perfectionist personality. I am also a planner, so I tried extremely hard to have everything prepared before Skeeter arrived.

Skeeter was born on October 10, 2010. Munch was a very easy baby, and Skeeter had a very different personality. It took a while for to adjust to being a family of four, but everything seemed to be going okay. I thought I was just overwhelmed with the jump from one child to two.

On Mother’s Day, I treated myself to a free yoga class taught by a dear friend of mine. As I laid in Savanasa, I was finally able to relax for the first time in months. I realized that I had been anxious and sad since Skeeter had been born. I realized that something was not right. I wasn’t myself. I realized that I had been using the mom’s room at work as a place to break down in. I couldn’t make it through a morning getting myself and the girls out the door to daycare and to work without crying or screaming. I was filled with racing thoughts, rage, sadness and anxiety.

The next day I placed two phone calls to therapists. When I didn’t hear back from anyone, I felt despondent. On my way home from work, I called my cousin, a social worker. I confessed to her that I thought I was suffering from postpartum anxiety. I started crying immediately after that statement. I was terrified that someone would take my girls away. I knew that I needed help as soon as possible. I wasn’t suicidal, but I felt like I was on the edge of a breakdown. My cousin walked me through what to say to the therapist. Two days later, Skeeter and I were in my therapist’s office. She had had a last minute cancellation and was able to fit me in.

Two weeks later, she gave me a diagnosis: postpartum anxiety and postpartum depression. I was put on medication right around the time that I received my diagnosis. I felt relieved and sad at the same time. I knew what I was battling, but I had a long ways to go towards recovery. I began to battle back, devouring books and blogs about PPD. I found a new primary care physician who is certified in both internal medicine and psychiatry who now manages my medication. I am finally at my therapeutic dose. I am in recovery, but I have not completely recovered. I am taking it one day at a time, putting one foot in front of the other. I have more good days than bad, but I still feel the haze of depression slip its veil around my psyche from time to time. I still feel the buzz of anxiety course through my body.

To other moms who are struggling, I want you to know this. You are not alone. There is a whole community of PPD warrior moms that you can find through blogs, websites, Twitter and Facebook. These women get what you are going through because they have been there. So use the Internet to your advantage. Reach out and make some online connections. You are NOT alone. You will get better. It gets better.

Welcome back

Today's post is from another of my twitter besties, Becky. Becky recently started blogging at Just Breathe. She is funny (so funny she'll make you do kegels. Ahem.), sweet, understanding, and weird in all the best ways. I'm so glad to have her here today.


Something happens when you have a child. All those articles, and books - there's a lot 'they' don't tell you. As a woman, you give part of yourself to that baby the moment you see those 2 pink lines. Everything changes. Most good. Some not so good.

You spend 9 months changing. You're adjusting to your growing belly, watching what you eat, worrying when they aren't as active as normal, wondering what IS normal, hoping they are developing okay, worrying about labor, & wondering if it's physically possible your feet might blow up because you're retaining so much water. Wait there's a chance I could poop on the delivery table? File this under 'awesome'.

Pregnancy & becoming a mom is beautiful though, right?

How many women forget about themselves during this time. How many women give & give & give & have nothing left to give themselves? Most do. I recently read one of my old blogs from college & I used to be really freaking funny! What happened? I forgot how to laugh & be lighthearted. I forgot how to crack jokes. I forgot how to just relax & enjoy life.

It's been no real secret around my blog that I battle with my own anxiety & mild depression. I believe now it's something I've always had a touch of since I was younger, but a traumatic end to my pregnancy & first few months with a newborn threw me deep into the trenches. It's tough to remember to take care of myself when my life revolves around my innocent beautiful little kid. One that looks up to you for anything & everything. He has come first since I saw that positive pregnancy test, and it's taken its toll on my well being. It hurts to say that, but I know I've suffered making sure my child has anything he could possibly need.

Recently I've been trying to take more 'me' time. Making sure I get time to do the crafts I want, or paint my fingernails. It's never really been anything major that I've wanted to do, just something here & there that makes me feel better about myself. I've been seeing parts of the 'old me' peeking her head out. It's been refreshing to say the least, & makes me incredibly happy. I've missed her. I don't know if it's because of the anxiety medicine I've been on for a few months, or because I'm finally healing. I hope both. I hope one day I can wean myself off my medicine & be comfortable in my own skin again. Someday I will.

It's so important to help new mothers (or fathers for that matter) redefine themselves after a child is born. Your worlds changed & you struggle with trying to keep that piece of you while balancing being a parent. It's not easy & takes a lot of support from others. I struggle with taking time for myself to do things I want to do & worrying it will affect my child negatively in some way. "What if he needs me? What if I'm not available for him?" It's completely irrational because I know he would be taken care of, but it's how this mom thinks.

With the help of my husband,& some dear friends I've started opening myself back up. I started blogging again. I started crafting again. I started a little pseudo cookie business that's actually doing rather well. I'm grabbing this by the balls & not letting go this time. I can do this.

And hey, I can still make my husband laugh once in a while. That's pretty sweet ;)

Girl, I've missed you.

P.S. See her button? She designed that in about half an hour today, after I asked her if she had one. Because she is an artist. An actual professional graphic artist. And some day I will be able to afford to have her make my blog prettyful and make me buttons too. But for now you're stuck with me and my words.

I am enough because I see the good

I honestly thought this would be harder than it was, but I've had a really good week.

1. Yesterday morning I played an epic game of peek-a-boo with the baby. Even though I was tired. Even though I wanted to do other things. She laughed and laughed and laughed. So I did too.

2. I got two facebook messages from former students yesterday. The first a message to tell me that "Even though I hated Brave New World when we studied it, it's now my favorite book. I thought you'd be proud." He's 21 now. I am proud.

The second, one of my last students tagged me in a picture of the ridiculous collage they made of my white board when they found out I was leaving 2 years ago. I thanked her for posting it, and 5 students liked my comment within ten minutes.

3. I got the most amazing comment from Susan on my Rainy Day Letter. She told me that by writing, I am helping other people find Peace and Purpose. There is nothing in the world I'd rather do.

With that kind of week, how could I not feel good about myself? And yet that's not true. I could. I choose to see the beauty and the wonder in all of these small things, just like I choose to see the good in everyone else around me. Does that mean I don't realize that people are mean and ugly sometimes? Of course not. It's just what I choose to see, and I can choose to recognize that good in myself too.

A month ago? I don't think I could have. I thought I was invisible, I thought I was gone. But I'm not. I'm still the woman I always was. I'm her and so much more.

I've always said that I wanted nothing more than to change the world, to make people's lives better, to make things a little more beautiful for me having been there. And now I know I can.

Because I already am. Because I have been all along.