This is Why It's Worth It

A Morning Smile

Night Weaning, A Critical Mass

We wake.

nightafternightafternightafter

My eyes drag crescent-shaped shadows

beneath them--

the dark smudged proof that

I have an infant child.

We are So Sick of It.

In a way I never thought we would be--

rising to meet his cries

hourafterhourafterhour

Last night,

I got scared when

neither of us wanted to comfort him--

You curled fetal on the floor;

My body and breast felt resent as

I nursed him anyway.

I whined into the dark to your dark shadow on the floor,

"I don't want to act emotionally, I don't want to make decisions

out of exhaustion. It feels too cold."

We discussed again

letting him cry.

I fear the intangible. I fear his personality

hinges on our exceptional attentiveness thus far.

I fear ruining him. Scaring him. Scarring him.

I don't want to act without Sureness.

Do I want to let him wail it out? I don't know. (But not really.) But

What I do know is

I'm ready to stop nursing in the middle of the night

Like so sick of it I want to cry because I haven't had a good night sleep since October 4, 2010.

What I don't know is

How to get there.

Insert suggestions here.

We. Can't. Keep. On. Like. This.

And Then I Lost It

My little baby angel is a very privileged young chap, who, upon the occasion of his baby shower got copious amounts of gifts before anyone had even met him and discerned him to be a likable fellow. 

On this joyous occasion, the darling guy received no fewer than a dozen blankets from relatives far and wide--many of them gorgeous and handmade with love. Some of these, due to their particular breathability and size, ended up as sheets for his car seat, where he slept for longer than recommended. Some of them serve as a colorful rectangles on the floor underneath him as he plays. Even the scratchy ones are used as decor, folded and slung over the crib as accent pieces when visitors stop by.

Yet, as with most babies, one particular blanket has emerged as his go-to blanket. The one that is just the right size. The one that is just the right weight. The one that is just the right fabric. The one that, when placed on the little guy when he's tired and nursing, he will slowly knead the fabric with his fingers, and shortly thereafter, his eyes gently roll back into an easy slumber. 

The Chosen One is a well-known brand, tiddliwinks, sold at most local Targets. While it was not quilted or crocheted by my favorite people, the purchaser was my husband's oldest bestie and delivered to us just days after the birth of our son by the oldest bestie himself. And therefore, Very Special Indeed.

four-day-old Dax with Dave's BFF DaRell (& giftor of The Chosen Blanket)

Perhaps it is fitting that this blanket is The One, because this blanket was the only blanket purchased for us by A Man, and therefore the deep navy blue color and stitched sports balls and inlaid "Champ" insignia did, in fact, stand out considerably from the lighter, more precious blankets gifted to us by the entire female side of our relational brood. Dax must have known: This is a boy blanket. 

And so it was, from his baby newborn days and through his entire eight months of existence, wherever Dax went, this blanket followed close behind. Made of a soft, buttery micro fleece, this medium-sized blanket has a nice weight and warmth to it that Dax loves. When he's anxious and active, this blanket will almost always calm him, as witnessed by an audible sigh and a ceasing of the ceaseless kicking of limbs. 

Dax and his blanket at eight days old

So it was without fanfare that when my husband and I trekked to the open air baseball stadium in  Downtown San Diego last Saturday night to watch our Padres play the Seattle Mariners, we packed Dax's favorite blanket, to ward off the light coastal wind wafting in from the nearby harbor. 

Dax thoroughly enjoyed his first baseball game. He was passed from lap to lap, reveling in the company of a handful of our relatives who kept him giggling and cuddled. During the duration of the game, the soft blanket covered my knees. 

Saturday night at the Padres game

As we left the stands, a few hours later, I strung the blanket over my purse and held the handles. We headed to the car. It was warm enough that my son's favorite blanket went unneeded almost the entire evening.

And that was The Last Time I Saw It. 

As we approached the parking garage, I realized the blanket no longer occupied the space near my elbow. Frantic, we retraced our steps back to the stadium. No dark mass of navy blue blanket lay crumpled on the sidewalk in that entire 1/4 mile.

I called up to my family, still in the stands. Was it there? No.

I begged the ticket person to let me re-enter the gates so I could skip up the stairs and the elevator where we walked.

Nothing. 

I went to Lost & Found, where I filled out a report that read something like this..."my son's favorite blanket. navy blue. micro fleece. sporty "champ" embroidered. the only thing he's every loved, please help me..."

As I treaded back down the steps to the exit gates, I felt like a complete failure. Shoulders slumped, I met the eyes of my husband holding our son, now favorite blanketless, and shook my head No. Dave said maybe they'll find it and call us later and then we headed back in the direction of the car. With each step I could feel the hot tears well up in my throat. 

And Then I Lost It. 

In a pitch so high it was barely audible, with chunky tears dropping from my cheeks, the words started streaming out, "I'm the worst mother ever I can't believe I lost his FAVORITE blanket it's like the only material thing that he's attached to so far and he uses it every time he naps he NEEDS it and I LOST it I can't believe I would do such a thing why didn't I tie it to the purse omg he's had that blanket since he was an itty bitty newborn and it has all his beautiful baby energy on it and I was gunna save it forever and he was going to have it forever and it would be his favorite thing and now it's GONE..."

Poor Dave. Instantly realizing the severity of my mommy meltdown, he sprung into action, "Baby, baby, hey hey it's ok, it's ok, don't worry, no worries, baby hey..." I paused to breathe. And then more tears and then he said, "First off, you are the best mother ever." And then, altruistically, he mentioned that maybe some downtown San Diego homeless guy had it (tons of homeless rove the area), and maybe he needed it more than us.

But that made things way worse because then I imagined the preciousness of my son's beautiful blanket that contained all his beautiful baby energy on it; I imagined it in the smelly toothless face of some greasy bum who had just snorted lines of crystal meth and smeared his dirty crystal meth dust on my son's most favorite thing. 

I wailed louder, now eyeing every thieving bum in my vision. 

Luckily, Dave kept after it, assuring me that we could get him a new one right away. And then he said some things that for some reason kind of made me feel better: He assured me that we would lose plenty of his favorite things over the duration of his existence and that that was just par for the parental course.  This was our first time and it was hard, but don't be so hard on yourself because it's not the end of the world and we have a long string of lovely lost things in our future.

And so eventually I calmed. In the car, it was quiet and Dave told me that even though he hated so see me sad, he found it charming that I was so upset. I smiled a little and loved him for that.

When I woke in the morning, Dave told me that he found the exact same blanket online and purchased it and that it would be here in a few days. I thanked him. The stadium called me the next day and told me they didn't find it; No good Samaritan carried it to their counter. 

A few days later, the navy blue "Champ" blanket, an exact replica of My Son's Favorite Thing arrived, wrapped in a silky ribbon. And as I slipped it around his little body before his nap, he sighed gratefully and visibly calmed.

I felt a little deviant. I got a glimpse of us, as parents, in the future when Dax's favorite little hypothetical turtle dies, that us, unable to tell him about the loss, would purchase a replacement turtle--slipping it into the tank after midnight without a word.

I feel so sad I lost that blanket, like kicked in the stomach sad. But I am grateful, we got a new one that does the exact same trick. This mama road is going to be rife with all sorts of fun...

Sigh...

We're like SO totally alike

I know he's my son because...

1. He thinks watching T.V. is boring.
2. He loves to read.
3. He's an easy traveller, because he loves to people watch.
4. He's got a glint in his eye that says 'I like mischief.'
5. He laughs at his own jokes.
6. He sparkles in a crowd, but needs his quiet time too.
7. He loves looking at himself in the mirror ;-).
8. I love everything that he wears--very stylish kid! (It's as if I picked it out myself!)
9. He can't sleep if there's any kind of draft.
10. And, of course, most of all, I know he's my son because of that whole labor and birth thing.

May We Always Remember This

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters 

of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you 

but not from you,

And though they are with you, 

they belong not to you.

You may give them your love 

but not your thoughts.

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies 

but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, 

not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, 

but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward 

nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children 

as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark 

upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might 

that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

"On Children"

by Kahlil Gibran

As a new mother, I can tell you...

As a new mother, I can tell you...

I have reached the highest JOYS I have ever felt. These are folded into the small moments--like the way he shakes his hands into the air and sqeeeeeessssss.....these are the moments I feel my eyes light up like wildfire. I feel full and complete and whole. In these moments I can see forever and my blessings stacked up like Christmas.

As a new mother, I can tell you...

I have reached the lowest LOWS I have ever felt. Some days I feel so frustrated and sad and mostly, I want to be alone. I want nothing more than to curl up all day with nothing but my own thoughts and a book and a bath. There are moments when I want him to sleep because he hasn't slept all day and he's fussy and I'm tired and I think in frustrated anger 'can't i just get one friggin second?!' I've had moments of mom bitterness, which I swore I'd never do, where I think, 'Can't anyone else do this?! For God's sake, why does it always have to be ME?" In this selfishness, I am ashamed.

As a new mother, I can tell you...

My relationship has changed. We are trying (struggling) to maintain to maintain normalcy....back how it was....you know, in the decade of our togetherness before baby? We are trying to keep it there. Safe and sound. But I have to tell you, our relationship has irrevocably changed. For the better? Sometimes. For the worse? Sometimes. The biggest pain is how much I miss him. 

As a new mother I can tell you...

I wouldn't change this for the world. But I am struggling to re-define myself here. I can feel it. It is a slow stretch. It is Growing Up. It is Letting Go. Being a parent forces me to Look at Me. Who do I want Dax to be? Then I need to be that person myself. The responsibility has made me a better person. 

As a new mother I can tell you...

I have no idea what I am doing. AND I know EXACTLY what I am doing. 

As a new mother I can tell you...

It's raining outside. I love the world all damp and grey. I can hear the garbage truck bumble down the road. The baby is sleeping. All things are as they lay...

A House Full of Yin

My Dad came to visit us this last weekend. I was sick as a dog as aforementioned. He helped us out by cooking and watching the little guy. It was an easy couple of days. My brother and my husband and my Dad and I all kind of run on the Yin energy, so when you have four 'go with the flow-ers' in the house, things tend to be mild and quiet and slow.

Here's my Dad feeding his adorable grandson.

Speaking of Breastfeeding, Birth Control, and TMI

Been back from Minnesota for almost a week now. I'm recovering from the worst sickness I've probably had since this time. I've got mucus in my lungs that feels like tar. I can't breathe. I can't taste anything. Sleeping sucks--my throat tickles and burns so bad I want to whine like a little girl. And I do.

Dax got sick for like one day--eyes half-mast, sneezing, coughing. I think this breastfeeding thing is helping him stay pretty clear in the sick department.

UMMM....Speaking of breastfeeding....

So Dax is up to three meals per day. By meals. I mean servings of fresh pureed fruit or veggies. He eats a.m., lunch, and dinner. But I have to say--I don't feel like the nursing has decreased. I think I have to start to trying to nurse less. Not a lot less, but there are definitely some extraneous nursing times. Like when he wakes up from a nap that I think is too short and I try to get him to sleep more by nursing. Probably not necessary, at least from a nutrition standpoint.

(Ironically, after I wrote that last sentence, Dax woke up from one of his infamous 40 minute naps and I ran up there and instead of nursing, I just held him in my arms and rocked and he went fast back asleep and here I am!)

Before I had a baby, I would have told you that I would only breastfeed for between three and six months. Definitely no more than six months. Because I wanted my body back and breastfeeding for too long was weird. I think of that now and LOL!

Breastfeeding is such a comfort to him, I can't imagine stopping at 6 months! It is also how I get him down for naps almost every time and plus, it is such a precious time for me to Be Quiet and snuggle with my little guy.

But now I've kind of got my sights on the one-year mark. I'm not completely opposed to going longer than that, as if it makes no sense at that time to quit, I'm not going cut us off something that works for us as a family because of 'the stigma.' There are plenty of places all over the world that breastfeed well over age one. I personally feel that I would, no matter what, would not pass the 2 year mark. I think then 'the stigma' would overcome hahaha....see how fickle I am? It's never full-on rebellion, is it? Only enough to make people slightly uncomfortable :-)

However, one of the main reasons to stop at the one-year mark is that I would definitely like to have another baby. And as of yet, I have no started ovulating again yet. Sorry, TMI. But I can't have a baby if I don't have my flow back :-). Sorry, again.

I want to write about that more. Breastfeeding as birth control. Because FYI: it's been working for us. Did you know that? You can use breastfeeding as birth control for up to six months postpartum if you meet all these criteria:

1) Exclusively breastfeeding (no supplementing water or formula or food)
2) Breastfeeding on demand (i.e. when baby is hungry, not on a schedule or for any predetermined length of time set by you)
3) Under six months postpartum
4) Your period has not returned

Of course, now Dave and I have well-surpassed the threshold for #3 and we are in The Danger Zone, but we don't really care. It feels like we are building a family Catholic style.

There's women out there that say they got pregnant while breastfeeding and that 'breastfeeding as birth control' is a myth, but 98% of the time they were violating one of the above four recommendations. Scientifically, they say there is a 2% chance of pregnancy if you follow those four rules religiously.

It's weird a lot of medical practitioners don't talk about this and they want to put women on birth control right after they give birth. I truly understand that if you do not want to get pregnant, that many women do this, but birth control does affect the hormones and sometimes milk supply...isn't it worth at least educating women about this more natural method?

I can say with 100% accuracy that for us, we used no contraception, I repeat, NONE, since I've given birth. And we average about once weekly since six weeks postpartum (I swear it's normally more than that, but this baby has super cliched us into the whole 'less sex after baby' camp).

Hmmmm....what was my point of all this? (ps sorry mothers and mothers in laws and dear god i hope my dad or brother or any other male friends doesn't read this)

Ohyes, thinking of trying to stop breastfeeding by age one.....how do you gear up for this? Do I start dropping feedings? I just can't imagine how to get him down for naps. I can't imagine what to do when he's crying and it is the only way to soothe him. I can't imagine what food I might feed him in lieu of the milk. That sounds weird, but I'm having a hard time thinking beyond fruit and veggies. I'm so afraid of him choking. I know that's weird. It's all weird. Hoping maybe I'll get my period back before I completely quit breastfeeding so that I don't have to really worry about just stopping nursing completely.

Blah. Blah. Bleh.....tell me something!!!!! Make my head stop spinning.....I think this is all due to too much cold medicine....

XOXO,
Me?

Ode to Blogger

I wrote a post once (yesterday).

It was awesome.

It was all about my oldest bestie, Tiffany,

It had great words about Minnesota (I was just there). It talked about how it smelt like a damp lake. It talked about the scratchy sticks of brown trees that tangled the landscape. It talked about May.

I talked about Tiff and how I've known her since I was five. It talked about how she was the kind of gal that would rip someone's face off for you to protect you. I don't need that, I'm a grown adult, but I like that I have that.

I told you about all sorts of things. But when I went to post it, it disappeared. Blogger crashed for all yesterday and the blogosphere ate up all kinds of genius posts and comments. And I weary trying to remember things I've already covered. And so, I exhale. I forget. I'm not the kind of person who likes a challenge. I don't 'rise up and conquer.' I let go.

And so I won't tell you about what a lovely Mother's Day I had. How I made my own mother breakfast and she cooed to my son on the floor. I won't tell you how I haven't spent a mother's day with her in years. I won't tell you how it made me feel.

I won't tell you how I packed up my son in my mother's Malibu and drove to Blaine, Minnesota to see my oldest bestie, Tiffany. How her daughter plays soccer. How the freezing grey rain felt.

I might tell you that we went to The Old Piper Inn with her husband and two young children. How they gave away free lunches to mothers that day.

I might tell you that I fretted over my son at the table as he tried to chew slash destroy everything...

I will tell you this is one of my fave pics. Me & Tiff and our children in front of The Old Piper Inn in Blaine, Minnesota on Mother's Day.

Mother's Day 2011
Blaine, Minnesota

From Daddy - Letter to a 7 Month Old

Hi Dax, it’s your Dad. You and your Mom are on a short vacation to Minnesota to visit your Nana Kay, Aunt Stacy, Uncle CJ and your Cousin Nova. Your Aunt Stacy is having a baby shower. You don’t understand yet, but what’s exciting is you’re gonna have another cousin to play and grow up with. Your Mom tells me you are already very close to your 2 year old cousin Nova. You had your first kids cartoon session with Nova and are thoroughly enjoying her company. You smile and laugh at her when she kisses you on the head and cheek. You get fussy when she leaves your side. I think you two are going to have fun growing up together. I wish I could have seen all of this but I’m stuck in San Diego. I miss you and your Mom very much but am glad you got to go see family.

The last month has once again proved to be an amazing month of progress in your growth and development. You’re zipping around the kitchen and front room in your walker with ease. You’ve really learned how to maneuver that thing. I have a feeling you’ll be walking before you are crawling at this pace.

You’re also showing via facial expressions what foods you like and don’t like. I told your Mom that a mix of carrots and peas is not a good combo no matter how fresh it is. She tried giving it to you anyway and you proved to be your Father’s son. Your face scrunched up and you started to cough a little. You even spit a little bit back out. Then you just flat out refused to eat it. So your mom and I had a laugh and we switched to butter nut squash. You gobbled up the butter nut squash with a look of joy on your face. One thing I’d like to point out is that you’ve never eaten any foods that aren’t fresh which is pretty cool. Your Mom is making a staunch effort to keep that going and she’s doing a great job. Fresh apples, bananas, pears, mangos, peaches, butter nut squash, peas and carrots (just don’t combine the last two).

When I get home from work Mommy is pretty tired so I’ll take over and we’ll watch some NBA basketball or we’ll play in your walker. It seems like we’re having the most fun during bath time. It always cheers you up too. If you’re tired of playing downstairs I’ll say “bath time!” and you’ll get a grin on your face. As I get you ready for your bath you are always in good spirits. We play and I give you raspberries and you laugh at me. You are now starting to sit up on your own, which you now like to do in the bath. We’ll start with you sitting up and you like to play with a little yellow rubber duck. The funny thing is you actually prefer the plastic cup I use to pour water on you. Your eyes light up when you see the cup as I’m pouring water on you. Then I’ll give you the cup and you start trying to drink from it. Another highlight for you is when your buddy Diego (our cat) comes to visit you while you are in the bathtub. Diego will peer over the edge of the tub and look at you as you smile back at him. Diego enjoys this time with you too as he never misses bath time. Sometimes he’s already waiting for us when we get upstairs.

Son, you light up my life. I love you so much and am so happy your Mother and I have you in our lives. I can’t wait to see what new things you do THIS month. Happy 7 months buddy.

Love, Dad

Ding Dong, Beezlebub is Dead

I'm having a hard time thinking of something to write at the moment.

I think it is Osama's fault. He's everywhere and he's all I can think about.

I'm not sure why. It's all so remote. I heard they dumped his body in the sea. They honored his Islamic traditions, washed his body, wrapped him in a shroud, said a prayer. I wonder who attended his funeral. Who helped with the arrangements. What boatman guided the ship out among the swelling mounds of the sea to release him.

I know what it feels like when history is happening. The other night as we readied for bed, my husband's phone lit up and he ran for the stairs saying, "It's something that affects us all, well not 'us' personally, but people as a whole."

And as the television clicked on, I could see my favorite CNN crew was frantic, excited. Headlines are in ALL CAPS when things are IMPORTANT. Out in front of the White House, students from the nearby college and others, gathered to climb trees. I could see a couple cheerleaders in the crowd, doing some kind of clapping ditty. I wanted them to get off their friends' shoulders and sit down.

It was unnerving. Our president standing in front of the podium. The cameras were still and in a close-up. I know they wanted us to feel like we were personally being delivered a message: You are all safe now. You can relax. We got the boogey man. 

And it seems like people ate it up right? Even Rush Limbaugh praised my guy for his terrorist-hunting capabilities. I felt like a great bunch of Americans think this: The War on Terror is Over. (Isn't that weird to have a WAR on TERROR, feels like such a circle to me...WAR TERROR War Terror war terror, isn't it all the same, isn't War full of Terror?)

Yet, I guess that makes me happy that people feel like that though--that they want to end it. People need conclusions. If this death has provided the Symbolism we need to get out of Afghanistan then So Be It.

It's weird though, some Americans are acting like this is all they were waiting for all along. That now we can wipe our brow from worry and sleep at night because we have destroyed The Enemy. As if this death were the ultimate goal all along.

I'm not crying over this execution, don't get me wrong. September 11th was mass murder and the worst kind of evil. I can't shake the sick way I felt that morning as we watched the tiny black human-shaped shadows jump out of those windows when the towers fell.

However, the quick move to 'close this chapter' seems disingenuous to me. To me, it seems like a weakly transparent attempt to shirk accountability for what's happened over the past 10 years. Frankly, it feels childish. A bully on the playground who keeps declaring that he's "winning."

I don't know. I guess whatever it takes to put an end to this endless drama. I wish we could be classier about the whole thing. Less primitive. Less about chanting "USA! USA! USA!" in some creepy way from the treetops.

I want our people home. That's what I want. That would make me climb trees and shake down leaves and yelp into the air. I want to stop worrying about the endless friends and bloggers and people who have people who have sons and daughters "over there." The loved ones who keep missing people, losing people, losing lives. Because that's what war accomplishes: empty seats at the dinner table. That's the reality; that's the microcosm. The ideologies bring us there, but every time those ideas are shattered into sobbing broken hearts. War IS Terror.

I don't know.

I didn't need Osama dead to call an end to the 'War on Terror.' I hate that the whole thing has been 10 years thus far. It makes me sick to think that is all some Americans wanted was One Guy Dead. And now that they have stood over his dead body and spit into the sea as he drifted off, that they're ready to move on. That that's all it took for their battle cry of "We've Won!"

I can't help but wonder,
Have we?