Why do I do that which I do not want to do?
I tell myself I will never...and then I do.
I will never freeze out my husband instead of calmly discussing the issue at hand...and then I do.
I will never lash out verbally at my child, cutting her down in anger...and then I do.
I will never get upset over unimportant things, like unmatched clothes or spilled water on the floor...and then I do.
What a wretched woman I am!
The baby cries. I open the door to go to him and he reaches for me with everything, every part of his body straining, as only a baby can, to the source of his comfort and nourishment. I lay beside and he rolls into me, snuggles against me, rooting for food and reassurance. As I nurse and cuddle him peacefully back to sleep, I wonder, when did I last reach with such full-bodied purpose to the one true source of comfort and sustanance? Yearning, straining, reaching, as an infant for its mother, wanting nothing more and nothing less than the safety and provision of the Almighty? Provider, Sustainer, Giver of Life!
I think back, and I remember. Those darkest days that I rarely think of and speak of even less. Moments of failure. Flickers of memory that I desperately want to wash away. In desperation, straining towards Him with everything, and then feeling more clearly than ever before or ever since His arms, His presence, His love. I sob in relief. He is there, He loves me, I am safe.
But now, with the road relatively smooth, I start to forget. I begin to believe, instead, that I can provide. That I can sustain. That I can do it on my own.
Such foolishness.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
9 Months of Bliss and Laughter
Pregnancy. It's beautiful and miserable and miraculous and painful and wonderful and all the rest. It's pregnancy glow and morning sickness. It's cute little baby bumps and big swollen ankles. It's grinning over tiny baby outfits and peeing when you sneeze. It's elation and exhaustion. Excitement and panic. Highs and lows.
And sometimes, it's just plain funny.
Potty Training
The actual process of potty training a child while you're pregnant is great. You're peeing so often that it's easy to remember to bring the kid along each time. It's like a built-in potty timer! Perfect.
But then they actually become potty trained, past tense. Suddenly I'm waiting in line as my oldest takes a poo, and I've got to go last because I'm the grown up. Meanwhile I'm imitating the wee-little girl, legs crossed and all, and then I've got to wipe her and then help her with her clothes, all without peeing my pants.
And I'm asking myself the entire time, why was it, precisely, that you wanted to potty train her so soon?? I don't know, Self. I do not know.
Bedtime
The expectation of a new baby requires that certain preparations be made. For us, this included transitioning our bed-sharing diva into sleeping with the grand-parents. I am more than done with her night-time football and 360• turns and pulling off my blanket in her sleep. With that decided, our bedtime routine now involves me sitting in with the three of them ( four, including the month when the grand-aunt was with us ) until she fell asleep, as the alternative meant all four of them were up for hours giggling and talking and playing together. As we figured out our new bedtime routine, I moved from sitting beside her on the floor, to sitting on the end of her bed, to quietly whisking my very-pregnant self away before bedtime, to our ultimate solution of me sitting on their bed while she fell asleep with her head resting on my lap. It's terribly sweet, actually, to have her fall asleep there, her head on my thigh, my legs a cradle on either side of her. Of course this only works because once she's asleep, she sleeps like a rock, making it easy to slip out from underneath her.
Aye, there's the catch. With this big belly of mine, there's no "slipping out from underneath her". It's more along the lines of heaving myself out from underneath her and praying I don't fall over in the process. There's an image of a beached whale in there somewhere as I struggle to both move out from underneath her and stand up at the same time. It's not pretty or graceful or smooth in the very least; some nights I've very nearly given in and called either grand-parent whoever was in the nearest proximity, to come rescue me up. So far I've managed it myself, though, and I am invariably glad my sleep-induced parents are the only witness to this nightly struggle.
At last we just decided it was safe for everyone that I just remove myself from the bedtime scene altogether. Much as it breaks my heart not being able to smell that sweet little cupcake in my nightly sojourns, that does give me time to bond more with the footballer within.
My Bedtime
And then comes time for me to go to sleep. I've been exhausted all day. Surely I'll fall asleep as soon as my head hits my pillow. Good thing, too, since everyone keeps reminding me to get in my sleep while I still can.
But no. The cruel twist of fate known as Pregnancy Insomnia strikes again. Instead of grasping these last nights of uninterrupted sleep before the baby arrives, I lay awake for hours. My brain refuses to turn off. My loose pregnancy joints begin aching. My pregnancy bladder demands yet another trip to the bathroom. I begin to mope about how terrible my life is. Nothing like overreaction at two o'clock in the morning.
At last I fall asleep. Then, far too soon, I wake up again - and can't fall back asleep. Something urgent occupies my brain. Will hubby darling be here during the delivery? Will I be able to have the normal delivery I hoped for? Would I even get a room in the hospital??? And will I, oh will I go into labour during the wedding ???? Gasp gasp heavy breaths gasp gasp gasp .. This is all very urgent and important and dramatic at four o'clock in the morning. I watched the room get brighter as the sun rose.
Some nights, I simply give up. It's 3:08am as I type this section. My life is unfair.
Prepping for Childbirth
I was watching some natural birth videos with the lil one, to help prepare her for the upcoming birth of her little brother or sister. She's feeling quite calm about it all. How can you not, when you are just two years old.
I, however? Completely freaked myself out with those stupid videos. I suddenly remembered quite vividly just how painful natural birth can be. To lessen my worry, two trusted family members, both doctors at that, unanimously gave their opinion - i am not mentally strong to withstand childbirth. Did great for my confidence, thank you very much. What was I thinking?? I told my husband I was just going to cross my legs really tight and the baby could just live in there. Supportive man that he is, he laughed at me, and then he said that would only have worked if I'd tried it nine months ago. Very funny, darling husband. Just hilarious.
Oh, the Great Indian Wedding
As it was fated, my own darling sister is getting married. Yup. Date falls much within this range. So there I am, big belly and all. There's nothing to avoid the situation, she's my darling after all. My very own. My parents go to great extent to hide their concern. But it pokes its head once in a while, in between jokes and laughter. And so headlong we plunge into the arrangements. Shopping. The brides make-up and beautician. The invites. Shopping. Guests arrangements. Grooms arrangements. Wedding hall, photography, flowers and Thali. Shopping. Did I mention shopping? Getting the house pruned fot the big day. And shopping.
Ahem ahem. Popular joke of the season - "so you aren't gonna let your sister get married in peace huh?" No prizes for guessing that. But it did wonders to my already-fragile mind. Just about then, the baby would kick some more. As if to say, "give it back to them, mom. Say yes. Add that it was a deliberately planned move." And I did just that. Oh peaceful peaceful mind.
Girl Power
The worst comment I received so far was this gem from a fellow mother : "Oh, you have a girl right? Hopefully this one will be a boy. That would be nice. If not, well, you can always try again." Because it wouldn't be "nice" if I was blessed with another girl, right? If sweet Mystery Baby is just another girl, it'll be "oh, too bad, you must be devastated. but at least you can try again," is that it?
The second worst comment so far was from another mother: "Will you be okay if it's a girl ?" No. No, I'll be devastated. Anything but another healthy and happy girl! The horror!
If it is a girl, I will be thrilled. What an honour and a joy to raise two angels!
If it is a boy, I will be thrilled. What an honour and a joy to experience raising a daughter and a son!
We'll find out soon enough which joy our family will be blessed with.
Fortunately, not all of the comments received are awful. My favourite comment recently came from a single young man:
"So when are you due?"
"Just in time for the wedding date."
"What?? But you look so...calm!"
I'm not sure how I'm supposed to look in these last days, but it would seem "calm" is not it.
And with that, I'm off to work on my panic-stricken face.
And sometimes, it's just plain funny.
Potty Training
The actual process of potty training a child while you're pregnant is great. You're peeing so often that it's easy to remember to bring the kid along each time. It's like a built-in potty timer! Perfect.
But then they actually become potty trained, past tense. Suddenly I'm waiting in line as my oldest takes a poo, and I've got to go last because I'm the grown up. Meanwhile I'm imitating the wee-little girl, legs crossed and all, and then I've got to wipe her and then help her with her clothes, all without peeing my pants.
And I'm asking myself the entire time, why was it, precisely, that you wanted to potty train her so soon?? I don't know, Self. I do not know.
Bedtime
The expectation of a new baby requires that certain preparations be made. For us, this included transitioning our bed-sharing diva into sleeping with the grand-parents. I am more than done with her night-time football and 360• turns and pulling off my blanket in her sleep. With that decided, our bedtime routine now involves me sitting in with the three of them ( four, including the month when the grand-aunt was with us ) until she fell asleep, as the alternative meant all four of them were up for hours giggling and talking and playing together. As we figured out our new bedtime routine, I moved from sitting beside her on the floor, to sitting on the end of her bed, to quietly whisking my very-pregnant self away before bedtime, to our ultimate solution of me sitting on their bed while she fell asleep with her head resting on my lap. It's terribly sweet, actually, to have her fall asleep there, her head on my thigh, my legs a cradle on either side of her. Of course this only works because once she's asleep, she sleeps like a rock, making it easy to slip out from underneath her.
Aye, there's the catch. With this big belly of mine, there's no "slipping out from underneath her". It's more along the lines of heaving myself out from underneath her and praying I don't fall over in the process. There's an image of a beached whale in there somewhere as I struggle to both move out from underneath her and stand up at the same time. It's not pretty or graceful or smooth in the very least; some nights I've very nearly given in and called either grand-parent whoever was in the nearest proximity, to come rescue me up. So far I've managed it myself, though, and I am invariably glad my sleep-induced parents are the only witness to this nightly struggle.
At last we just decided it was safe for everyone that I just remove myself from the bedtime scene altogether. Much as it breaks my heart not being able to smell that sweet little cupcake in my nightly sojourns, that does give me time to bond more with the footballer within.
My Bedtime
And then comes time for me to go to sleep. I've been exhausted all day. Surely I'll fall asleep as soon as my head hits my pillow. Good thing, too, since everyone keeps reminding me to get in my sleep while I still can.
But no. The cruel twist of fate known as Pregnancy Insomnia strikes again. Instead of grasping these last nights of uninterrupted sleep before the baby arrives, I lay awake for hours. My brain refuses to turn off. My loose pregnancy joints begin aching. My pregnancy bladder demands yet another trip to the bathroom. I begin to mope about how terrible my life is. Nothing like overreaction at two o'clock in the morning.
At last I fall asleep. Then, far too soon, I wake up again - and can't fall back asleep. Something urgent occupies my brain. Will hubby darling be here during the delivery? Will I be able to have the normal delivery I hoped for? Would I even get a room in the hospital??? And will I, oh will I go into labour during the wedding ???? Gasp gasp heavy breaths gasp gasp gasp .. This is all very urgent and important and dramatic at four o'clock in the morning. I watched the room get brighter as the sun rose.
Some nights, I simply give up. It's 3:08am as I type this section. My life is unfair.
Prepping for Childbirth
I was watching some natural birth videos with the lil one, to help prepare her for the upcoming birth of her little brother or sister. She's feeling quite calm about it all. How can you not, when you are just two years old.
I, however? Completely freaked myself out with those stupid videos. I suddenly remembered quite vividly just how painful natural birth can be. To lessen my worry, two trusted family members, both doctors at that, unanimously gave their opinion - i am not mentally strong to withstand childbirth. Did great for my confidence, thank you very much. What was I thinking?? I told my husband I was just going to cross my legs really tight and the baby could just live in there. Supportive man that he is, he laughed at me, and then he said that would only have worked if I'd tried it nine months ago. Very funny, darling husband. Just hilarious.
Oh, the Great Indian Wedding
As it was fated, my own darling sister is getting married. Yup. Date falls much within this range. So there I am, big belly and all. There's nothing to avoid the situation, she's my darling after all. My very own. My parents go to great extent to hide their concern. But it pokes its head once in a while, in between jokes and laughter. And so headlong we plunge into the arrangements. Shopping. The brides make-up and beautician. The invites. Shopping. Guests arrangements. Grooms arrangements. Wedding hall, photography, flowers and Thali. Shopping. Did I mention shopping? Getting the house pruned fot the big day. And shopping.
Ahem ahem. Popular joke of the season - "so you aren't gonna let your sister get married in peace huh?" No prizes for guessing that. But it did wonders to my already-fragile mind. Just about then, the baby would kick some more. As if to say, "give it back to them, mom. Say yes. Add that it was a deliberately planned move." And I did just that. Oh peaceful peaceful mind.
Girl Power
The worst comment I received so far was this gem from a fellow mother : "Oh, you have a girl right? Hopefully this one will be a boy. That would be nice. If not, well, you can always try again." Because it wouldn't be "nice" if I was blessed with another girl, right? If sweet Mystery Baby is just another girl, it'll be "oh, too bad, you must be devastated. but at least you can try again," is that it?
The second worst comment so far was from another mother: "Will you be okay if it's a girl ?" No. No, I'll be devastated. Anything but another healthy and happy girl! The horror!
If it is a girl, I will be thrilled. What an honour and a joy to raise two angels!
If it is a boy, I will be thrilled. What an honour and a joy to experience raising a daughter and a son!
We'll find out soon enough which joy our family will be blessed with.
Fortunately, not all of the comments received are awful. My favourite comment recently came from a single young man:
"So when are you due?"
"Just in time for the wedding date."
"What?? But you look so...calm!"
I'm not sure how I'm supposed to look in these last days, but it would seem "calm" is not it.
And with that, I'm off to work on my panic-stricken face.
End of an era? Or New Beginings?
The last year has been a roller coaster. 2011 was extremely personal. It caught it all. The joy of a corporate highrise. And its pay package. A broken back and with it, the end of the corporate dream. Recovery struggles. Withdrawal symptoms of the now-deceased corporate life. A move to a strange strange land. The love of motherhood. The joy of a pregnancy. The loss that followed. The decision to let it be. The finding of faith & the gratitude of a subsequent pregnancy. & all the mommy moments inbetween. I will treasure the past year that was, & the voice it gave me forever. A lot happened last year. A lot of tears. A lot of joy. A lot of growing up and getting comfortable in my skin. & embracing the crazy life that is one of a stay at home (work at home) mom.
But what was next? I felt like I wanted something new. So this year, 2012, it is for my babies. (BABIES!!!) I brainstormed & mulled over a bunch of ideas and kept coming back to the same one. I want to put together a little book of lessons for my babies. This project is not for anyone but them. I write to them both in their own journals, for them to see what I see and understand the words I write a little better. My goal is to give them a peek at their childhood from where I stand. & offer up something that I have learned along the way. Some wisdom from mama…if I dare call it that.
I love my job as a SAHM. But I love it because I had a bustling career first. (& kind of still do…) but I run my house like a business. It’s a job I take seriously. There is infinite planning, executing, project management, scheduling, coordinating, budgeting blah blah blah. It’s no joke. & that’s the way I like it. I kind of love it, actually. But I don’t think, as a woman, that I would feel this way had I not had a corporate life before kids. I had my own money. I had my own identity outside of the house. I had bosses & responsibility & successes & failures. I have talked about this before, but rushing into children was not for me (us) and I am so glad that we waited. My hubby & I are about ready to start our (omg) fifth year together. No small feat. (especially for someone who did not believe in commitments. Hah! ) I spent our post college life as a part of being the breadwinner & it was a VERY valuable lesson. I know what it feels like to carry the pressure of supporting my family & it drastically impacts the way we manage our roles as a couple. I wish–for both my daughter (and if I have a son–for his future wife) to experience working outside the home before they choose homemaking as a career. It is a LOVELY career. One I enjoy to the fullest, but one that I think is best enjoyed after a few years working elsewhere.
This I shall return to. The high-flying image that's stuck in the insides if my head. But until then, my goal. Strive to be the best home-maker to my husband and kids. Make them a home to come to at the end of the day. One where they will be happy and content. And at peace.
But what was next? I felt like I wanted something new. So this year, 2012, it is for my babies. (BABIES!!!) I brainstormed & mulled over a bunch of ideas and kept coming back to the same one. I want to put together a little book of lessons for my babies. This project is not for anyone but them. I write to them both in their own journals, for them to see what I see and understand the words I write a little better. My goal is to give them a peek at their childhood from where I stand. & offer up something that I have learned along the way. Some wisdom from mama…if I dare call it that.
I love my job as a SAHM. But I love it because I had a bustling career first. (& kind of still do…) but I run my house like a business. It’s a job I take seriously. There is infinite planning, executing, project management, scheduling, coordinating, budgeting blah blah blah. It’s no joke. & that’s the way I like it. I kind of love it, actually. But I don’t think, as a woman, that I would feel this way had I not had a corporate life before kids. I had my own money. I had my own identity outside of the house. I had bosses & responsibility & successes & failures. I have talked about this before, but rushing into children was not for me (us) and I am so glad that we waited. My hubby & I are about ready to start our (omg) fifth year together. No small feat. (especially for someone who did not believe in commitments. Hah! ) I spent our post college life as a part of being the breadwinner & it was a VERY valuable lesson. I know what it feels like to carry the pressure of supporting my family & it drastically impacts the way we manage our roles as a couple. I wish–for both my daughter (and if I have a son–for his future wife) to experience working outside the home before they choose homemaking as a career. It is a LOVELY career. One I enjoy to the fullest, but one that I think is best enjoyed after a few years working elsewhere.
This I shall return to. The high-flying image that's stuck in the insides if my head. But until then, my goal. Strive to be the best home-maker to my husband and kids. Make them a home to come to at the end of the day. One where they will be happy and content. And at peace.
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