Aftermath.

Pregnancy changes you, but it is the bundle of a person that you prepare for. You know you will change emotionally. You expect your schedule, finances and priorities to alter. Turns out it changes you physically much more than I expected. Nobody prepares you for the havoc that once was your body.


When I got home from the hospital after Haven was born, I would not think about what was going on under my gigantic t-shirts and sweat pants. I knew either everything would return to normal or I would have a marathon crying session at some point. My hand and arm were deeply bruised from the IV, my back was riddled with holes and bruises from the epidural, my still-bulging tummy was slashed and sewn where Haven made his own exit door, my face was a puffy marshmallow ... I won't get into the other things. If you've had a baby you know and if you haven't, trust me, you don't want to.

It is now four months later and I still barely recognize myself in photographs. Well, I do, but with a grimace. I don't say this to elicit "you look great!" comments. Really. And, PS, anyone who said I looked great while I was still in the hospital no longer has merit with me. Come to think of it ... I don't think anyone did say I looked great in the hospital. THANKS A LOT. You now feel sorry for Dave that he has to live with me through this.

In her blog, Christin mentioned feeling like aliens took over her body since she's had children (or something to that effect). I guess most Moms have felt this way. I imagine it's like looking in the mirror when you're old and thinking, "Where did that face come from?" It's gotta still be me under all this craziness.

One tiny glimmer of hope: these traumatic physical changes that we women undergo now make it easier for us to adjust psychologically as we age. Unlike men, we are used to our bodies changing and confounding us (it all starts around age 12!). If that is any hope at all, I'm not sure. I'm almost ready for that marathon crying session.

Takin' it Easy

Wednesdays I'm off from work (woohoo!) and Haven is off from daycare. We just meet with my internship supervisor in the morning for an hour, and then we are free to go for walks, hang out by our pool or otherwise enjoy our lives. As crazy as the rest of week is, I'm so thankful for this weekly oasis in the middle of it all.


Haven is napping now, after a long, hot walk to the library. He, of course, took a pampered ride in his travel system with toys dangling in front of him the whole time. It's I who sweat out my shirt. I took out a stack of children's books that he will not be able to understand, but I know he'll enjoy being cuddled and looking at the pictures. I also found a couple of books that might make it onto this blog eventually.


Dinner will be turkey enchilladas (sh, don't tell Dave it's turkey - hopefully he'll think it's beef) and maybe some leftover sangria from Memorial day. What a great day.

Sunny day, sweeping the clouds away.

Three days of nothing to do but be. Loved it.

After living in our apartment for two years, we decided this weekend was the time to make use of the yard. We supped up a little section of the grass with a grill, an awning and an old table hauled down from the attic. We also got (drum roll) a pool. It is a 1-foot deep plastic baby pool, but a pool is a pool.

After eight hundred trips up and down the stairs (and quite a few I-can't-wait-until-we-have-a-back-doors) we were set up an tasty spread. We had the regulars over - Danna, Manuel, Joey and Katie - and we ate like we always eat and talked like we never talk. I'm sure it helped that we didn't have distractions like the Wii or Tivo'd reruns of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, but we jumped all over the map of hot topics.

One topic I'm particularly thoughtful about, which I will bring up at our next bbq, is immigration. Here are my thoughts: if you are willing to risk your life to come here and then you work your butt off once you're here, you are welcome in my neighborhood. Isn't that how most of us got here in the first place? That may mean an array of complicated situations. But here's the thing - when you have more than someone else, you share, and as a nation we have a lot. Well, I think that's the way it is supposed to be. I know I'm oversimplifying. I know there are more complex issues - I am aware of some of them. But this is the land of opportunity. This is the land where we can pursue happiness with total abandon. Sometimes people get stuck and sometimes it's so hard, but it's available. It's here. Maybe these aren't orthodox thoughts, aren't quite what you'd expect from a white, middle class republican girl. But I don't care. And I think I'm going to change my political party anyway. (I better stop talking politics - I don't know a lot, but I have these convictions when it comes to the people...)

So, we had a picnic. We had friends. Come over for the next one.

Morning Routine

My morning routine pre-Haven:

• Wake up at 7:00 AM.
• Shower
• Pull something from the closet that semi-matches
• Dry hair, apply make up
• Grab some food (leftovers, a can of soup)
• Kiss Dave, who is still sleeping
• Leave at 7:20 AM.
• Arrive at work with time to eat breakfast and check email at my desk.

Morning Routine with Haven:

• Wake up at 6:00 AM
• Sneak out of bed with the hope that Haven won't wake up (yes, he's still sleeping in our bed, leave me alone about it).
• Shower
• Pull something - anything - from the closet because by now Haven is awake and ready to eat.
• Set Haven and myself up on the couch with breakfast (thanks to the dear, sweet boppy).
• Grab a baby outfit and shake Dave until he wakes up and agrees to dress Haven.
• Comb my hair, apply mascara (haven't looked at the hair dryer in a while).
• Gather bottles, breast pump, any needed blankets or outfits and stuff them into their
  respective bags.
• Make myself lunch - it's gotta be semi-healthy if I'm ever going to lose these baby pounds!
• The Goodbye Show commences. Haven and Dave make faces at eachother, Dave and I both try to get Haven to laugh, I kiss Dave and the show ends.
• Carry Haven and our three bags out to the car.
• Arrive at day care, set Haven in a swing, kiss him all over his face until he smiles, tell him "I'll see you at noon" and tell Sandra when he last ate.
• Drive around the corner to work and go directly to the coffee in the break room.

Things change.

Me the therapist.

Today it starts. Today is the culmination of all of the books I've read, lectures I've heard, hours I've studied and mock sessions I've acted in puruit of my Master's degree in psychology. Today begins The Internship. It will last for a year. I met with my supervisor yesterday and we reviewed the clients with whom I will start today. This is exciting.

I hope it isn't painfully awkward to keep the session going.

I hope I'm not too young-looking (not the kind of thing I normally hope).

I hope I don't panic.

I hope I can get over my insecurities and empathize.

I hope I remember the stuff I've learned.

I hope I don't get beat up.

I hope I don't say "like" a lot.

I hope I look like both a professional and someone who cares.

I hope I keep good boundaries.

I hope.

Goodness.

Yesterday was Haven's dedication, the day that Dave and I, in front of our church, committed to raise him in a Christian home. I am a parent. This is finally hitting me. I will have a huge part to play in how this little four-month-old thinks about God, other people, the world, himself... This is profound, but beautiful.

We ate at the Famished Frog after church and I called menu recommendations across the table to anyone who would listen. Haven slept, took a bottle, got passed around. People laughed. Some days I'm overwhelmed by the goodness that is an everyday part of our life. How did we get here? How did we gain so many solid friendships? How did we acquire such intense reason to live? Life is such a responsibility, sometimes, but yesterday, it was simply a gift.

I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of him. So now I give him to the Lord. For his whole life he will be given over to the Lord. 1 Samuel 1:27-28

I don't want to be one of THOSE moms

Each day that I work, I spend my lunch breaks with Haven at his daycare. I feed him and then we play. I use the word play loosely, as he can barely grab a rattle and is most content to sit in my lap and watch the other kids. It's the highlight of my day and I like to think it is the highlight of his as well.

I love to be able to spend time in the room with Haven since it affords me the chance to get a feel for the room and the teachers. I've gotten to know the teachers and most of the other baby's names. I know the teachers especially like Haven because he's adorable (what? he is.) and not a big cryer and I think I've discovered a reason for them to like me (what? i'm likable).

After I fed Haven yesterday, I returned to the infant room. Oh, premise: the daycare has cameras in each room and parents can go online to see what's going on with their kid. So, the head teacher asked me, "Do you watch Haven on the cameras?"

"I can't get it from work - our system is too slow." (One more joy of working for a nonprofit.) "But my husband sometimes looks."

"Well..." She rolled her eyes, "This one's Mom just called and told us to put a sock on his foot." She covertly motioned toward one of the babies who was getting pulled out of his walker by a caregiver, sock in hand. She went on to tell me about the parents who call to tell her what to do for their child as they watch their computer monitor from work. Virtual parenting, anyone?

I understand feeling some paranoia about leaving your child at daycare. I think it is my daily visits that make it bearable for me. But also, I'm just laid back, I guess. I wouldn't bring him to that daycare if I didn't think they could take excellent care of him. I returned to work with one thought: I want to be the parent those teachers are talking too, not about!

Random

This blog is so random. My only experience blogging was writing my preggo blog, which consisted exclusively of stories about pregnancy. This blog, vaguely named Walk with Me, leaves me with a much broader canvas. I'm concerned I may capture no audience because I have no target readers. A great writer once told me to always think, "Who are you writing for?" when creating a piece. I am writing for me, but I could do that in a journal and with fewer edits. I guess I am writing for anybody who feels that their whole life is random in a "how did I get to this point and how do I live it well?" way.

So ... is anybody reading (besides Karen)?

Way to go, Joe.

I decided in January, as I have many times before, that I would read through the Bible this year. It's mid-May and I'm only up to Joseph in Genesis, but I'm okay with it, so don't judge me. I've heard his story in so many Sunday school classes - the multicolored coat, thrown into a pit by his brothers, sold as a slave and thrown into jail after he was falsley accused - I could tell you his story in my sleep, like any good little church girl. Today, though, the story left me with a few thoughts.

Joseph's life was crappy for a long time. His own brothers turned on him. His boss's wife tried to have an affair with him and when he said no, she accused him of assaulting her. He was helpful to people in prison, and they forgot about him when they were released. These are not fun things. These are not things we consider blessings from God, typically. These are the type of things that cause us to question our faith.

The remarkable thing is that Joseph did not let go of his faith. He did not place a value judgement on God based on his circumstances. He continued to do good to others. He continued to believe God.

Ultimately, God seriously took care of Joseph, both financially and with a family. But you know, I think Joseph's deep understanding of the strength and goodness of God helped him only to more understand the character of God.

Milestone!

Haven slept through the night!

He fell asleep at 7:00 pm last night and did not wake up until 5:30 AM this morning! It may only be other parents who have spent uncountable sleepless nights desperate for sleep who can truly appreciate this with us. But, I'm sure all sleep-lovers can understand.

The last few weeks have been difficult because Haven was waking up three or four times each night coughing and sneezing. He must be (finally!) feeling better. Ten and a half hours of consecutive sleep, however, is a marathon we have never experienced with him. When he woke up this morning he was all smiles and talking, refreshed after his first full night of sleep ever.

Let this be just the beginning! Dave and I couldn't truly enjoy our long, uninterupted night because we kept waking up to see if Haven was alright. We can get used to it though, I'm sure.

Chatty

Let's talk about people skills. Let's talk about reading body language. Have you ever been in a conversation where one person takes the reigns and trots off in oblivion? You are left in their dust with a mouthful of "uh huh" as you try to send the this-conversation-is-over message by inching away. Perhaps they continue talking, perhaps they inch closer to you.

I find myself in this situation quite often. Why? What is it about me that says, "I'll listen to you for twenty minutes while you talk about why you chose that brand of toilet paper." Help me, somebody!

My Sister's Keeper

Last night finally, after two weeks of compulsively reaching for this book at every free moment, I exhaled as I read the final sentence. It was easy to identify with the confused sister, the desperate mother and the rebel brother - but beyond my own identification, this book grabbed me because of both the current and timeless issues it addressed. Hot topics designer babies and genetic programming premise this book, but the real story is about letting go while we treasure what we have today. When you track it down at your local library you may be intimidated by the bulk of it, but scan the first page and I assure you, you'll find yourself at the check out counter handing over your library card. I'm going to find another title with Jodi Picoult's name emblazoned on the cover as soon as I can get to the library.

Mother's Day

Last Mother's day I was on a cruise somewhere between New York city and Bermuda, wondering if I was pregnant. I was desperately hungry but I chalked it up to the nature of a cruise vacation. Turns out, I could have chalked it up to a second mouth to feed, because today there is a little babbling munchkin on my right, playing in his swing. A couple of days after we returned from vacation the EPT gave a two clear lines. So today, really, is my second Mother's day.

When I was growing up, Mother's day was hikes and homemade cards. I'm not sure we gave our Mom what she deserved, but really, what she deserved was more than we could have given. After being a mom for three short months, I already realize that motherhood is significantly less about being rewarded than it is about finding the reward. While Haven's existence brings me great joy, I am here for him exponentially more than he is here for me. I do not sleep at night so that I can sit him up when he coughs, squeegee his nose, change his diapers and feed him with the hope that ultimately he will get a couple hours of sleep. Dave and I have less money and less time alone so that we can nurture this child. However, I am renewed, satisfied even, with one turn up of his lips. That smile is my reward.

Lessons

When I was little, we weren't what you would call rich. Of course, I was oblivious to my parent's bank account since I always had beans to eat, hand-me-downs to wear and presents at Christmas. We lived outside of Philadelphia, near Widner University. What I did know is that we lived on the right side of the tracks. On the other side, anything could happen and I was not allowed to go over there.

This is the part of the story that you think I will tell you about a time I trekked to other side of the tracks. You're wrong. I'm going to tell you how I learned to be fearless when I did eventually cross the tracks. I'm going to tell you how it happened that I was confident at my first job interview. I'm going to tell you how it came to be that I expected boys to be nice to me. I'm going to tell you how I learned to handle myself. This is about my Dad.
***
"When you're in the city, you don't look anyone in the eye. You just look like you know where you're going and nobody will bother you." We are in Philadelphia, walking for hours. We will soon stop for something to eat. My legs work double-time to keep up with him and I hold his hand when we cross the street. I think this sounds a little paranoid, but I obey because that's what you do when you're ten and your Dad tells you something. You take it in, you swear by it.
***
"I bet your name is Susan." My Dad disarms the cashier as he handed over a check for the groceries. He does this at every check out counter.

"It is." The cashier smiles as she touches nametag.

"Well, you have a nice day, Susan." He smiles, hands a bag to me and we leave the store. He slips me a Little Debbie when we get in the car. I eat it slow enough to savor every bit and fast enough so that it is history by the time we get home. My Dad never explained his friendly banter with every check out person we came across, but he didn't have to. It said this to me: you treat service people well.
***
"Jenny, you're Dad's here," I am at a friends house and we are playing in her bedroom. As I decsend the stairs I see that I am in trouble.

"We had no idea where you were. Now come on." My Dad does not crack a smile, though in retrospect I'm sure he was thrilled to see me alive. I'm silent as I struggle into my jacket, and I peer closer to get a view of the VCR clock that tops the television.

"Don't look at that." He barks, which makes me look down at the television screen. Two people are making out. I prudently avert my eyes and follow him home.

Why do I remember this moment so clearly? I was in trouble. I had lost track of time and ended up a block away at my friend's house. I remember it because my parents remembered me. I was important enough to search for. I was important enough to be scared for.
***
That is how I came to understand myself. And when you know yourself, you can be whomever you want. You can ask, expect, give and take. My Dad taught me about me. He showed me my value in this world.

As long as we've got eachother, we've got the world spinning right in our hands.

Haven, my three-month-old son, has had a cold for exactly eight days. He coughs like a smoker and screams like a hyenia when I try to syphon the snot from his nose. Breastmilk is worth more than gold to me right now, and one of his bottles spilled inside the diaper bag on the way to daycare this morning. I bought 228 diapers from BJ's and he used a mere 75 before they were suddenly too small.

Haven passed his cold to me about two seconds after he got it. I took a final last night that I should have aced, but I simply did not study enough. The semester ended, but I feel no relief because in less than two weeks I will incorporate an internship into my schedule.

These are my complaints. These are the worst things in my life.

We watched the news after a particularly hair-pulling day. With a voice dampened by emotion, the newsman told the story of a women in the Bronx who knew about loss. That day, as she took her baby out of the car the car began to roll back. In an effort to stop the car, she went to jump in and dropped the child. He was crushed under the tire. Breathless, my eyes swelled. And then the newsman said her husband was killed in Iraq only months ago. The camera flipped back to the studio and the news anchors were drop-jawed.

As my perspective expanded my trials shrunk. I know, there is always somebody worse off than I am, always someone better off, too. How can I compare annoyances with tragedy? I am thankful for that little Zoolander-like cough coming out of Haven, it means he's working to survive this cold. It's okay that all of those expensive diapers are too small, it means he is healthy. It's okay that I have to find 15-hours in my week for my internship; I have the opportunity to go to school.

What difficulties can you turn inside out today?

The beginning...

When my son cries I say, "It's going to be okay, it's alright..." sometimes to him but mostly to myself.

What if it is going to be okay? What if there is peace and there is a way to save this earth? What if we can heal and we do? What if you spent the day thinking of everything you're doing right instead of all you're doing wrong? What if ...

I love to walk. I've had the best talks when walking beside somebody. There is room to breathe, yet, it's still person to person. Hands are inches from eachother. Tones, breath and expressions are right there. Walkers keep pace with eachother, they have to. I think this physical synthesis lends itself well to that of the heart.

So walk with me. Let's share hope.