At this time

It's 12:17am.

At this time, exactly a year ago, I was trying to get some sleep.
At this time, exactly a year ago, I was having my first significant contractions.
At this time, exactly a year ago, I had no idea that in less than 10 hours I would give birth in a tub in our living room.
At this time, exactly a year ago, I didn't know if I was having a boy or a girl.
At this time, exactly a year ago, I was in the process of becoming somebody's mother.

Day 358 of being a new mom

It's official - there are exactly 7 days left of my first year of motherhood. And it has me thinking about what this year has been about and how I have changed and what I have felt and what I have thought about and what I have learned and what is still to come and what I still don't know.

So what does it mean - this motherhood thing? What does it mean to you?

Girltalk

"Everyone is asleep and mama is having a root beer float."

You know when a conversation with one of your favorite people in the world starts like this, that its going to be one of those conversations. You know, those ones that last for over an hour, without any awkward silent moments or superfluous "Soooos" that only comes to an end when a little tiny lady nugget makes noises reminding her mama that its time for a dreamfeed. Her little noises were the unspoken sign to quickly and without much thought find the end of our train of words and softly say "Talk to you soon."

So to my dear friend, up in Portland, thank you for reminding me that this first year of motherhood can indeed be one of transformation and transition and total mind blowing self-actualization. And that all sleeping and nursing and feeding and picking up out of the crib rules are out when it comes to sick babies. And that enjoying when your husband is gone is really more than okay. And that the girls weekend really just needs to be the girls weekend. And that root beer floats and chats with girlfriends from LBBH (life before babies and husbands) will always make everything better.

Dr. Mom

Image of Dr. Mom Essential Oil Kit from doterra

It is true, for my own health and well being I will choose an extra dose of Vitamin C, sinus cleansing with my clay Netti pot and good old fashioned sleep to fight off any ailment that comes my way. Will even used essential oils, acupuncture and homeopathy now and again. Antibiotics are always the last resort. I take a similar approach with the health of the nugget - but as he was nearing week three of this roller coaster of a cold and his disposition yesterday changed to almost unrecognizable, I decided today that it was time to head to the pediatrician and see if it was time to introduce the nugget to the world of pharmaceuticals.

I don't love our pediatrician. The whole office does an okay job - but it is never more than that. As for our actual pediatrician, he does a fine job but I never get the feeling that he actually remembers who were are. Maybe its because aside from the well baby visits, he never sees us or hears from me. But, my list of to-do's is long enough, so for now we will stay put. I figure he didn't give us trouble for bringing the nugget to the world at home or choosing a spread out vaccination schedule - what more could you ask for.

I knew today that we would get a resident, since our only option for today was the drop-in hours. And so, we waited. Me and the nugget - in the small, uninspiring room with the fluorescent light. And the most amazing thing happened - instead of janking the tissue from the exam table, or pulling on the dangling cords, he sat in my lap. No movement, no sounds. And as I gently hummed the tone of "Guten Abend, Gute Nacht", I could feel his body get even heavier. And then, he just simply fell asleep. Heavy and warm, his little body curled perfectly into the shape of my right arm. Really, this just tells you how very sick and uncomfortable the little guy was. It was only the sound of my own hacking cough that startled him back into consciousness, just minutes before the doctor gently knocked at the door.

After some poking and listening and palpating, it seems that he has a virus - an unknown, unidentifiable virus that is crawling through every household, school and public facility in San Francisco and the Greater Bay Area. And it would seem the cure is just some old fashioned TLC. Prescription: a humidifier, warm liquids, baby Tylenol when needed and patience. I guess we'll save our first bottle of pink goo for next time.

The harder part of this latest germ revival is that it has gotten me. And though I have been sick recently, this is different. And it is different too, because I am all alone. We couldn't have predicted that I would get sick while our papa is away so there is nothing we could have done differently - but really, this just plain sucks.

Because what do you so when Dr. Mom is sick?

Being that mom

A few weeks ago, we (the three of us) were at our first real birthday party - you know, the kind with a few big kids, even more adults and a table full of edible finger foods. It was lovely and we were all having a good time and then, it arrived - the nastiest, greenest, runniest nose I have ever seen.

I kept my horrified reaction to myself, tried to put myself in his mom's shoes and tried to remain pleasant. And then I at one point I was able to actually step out of myself, see my not so pleasant reaction and some how find my "relaxed, laid back, no big deal attitude." Until we got into the car. Oh my lord. I felt like someone had just unleashed the queen of all character judgement and damnation - I had no idea I had it in me. It went something like this:

"Isn't there some unwritten rule in the code of parenting that you keep green snot away from birthday parties. I mean, what was she thinking. She wasn't thinking - she just wanted to be at the party. No respect for other people." There may have been some additional 4 letter words, but you get my idea. My loving and smart husband agreed completely - and that was all I needed I put out the fire. Or so I thought.

Inevitably, 2 days later - I had a green goo sighting on the nugget.

I quietly cursed her but somehow tried to access my non-judging mind. Nearly impossible as I tried to keep the germs from spreading to my husband who was about to fly to Thailand in a few days. Don't know if it hit him sometime during his retreat, but will find out shortly.

Finally, the nugget was drip free last week and on Wednesday we went to visit our first parent-led pre-preschool play group. And there, sitting delightfully at the snack table was green goo monster #2 - unconscouis;y spreading the love. Great, not again. I mean really - how hard is it to say "We're sick and a can't make it." Our time there was limited as was our contact, so I just prayed. We've been sick, I thought - it can't get us again.

So Friday comes along 2 days later and the nugget and I have a swim class to make-up. Not more than 15 minutes into the class, a dad with his curly haired little girl of no more than 6 months, joins the class late. I look towards her and let's just say her supply of green goo beat them all. And what takes the cake, is that with one quick jerk of his hand, it was gone without a trace, cleaned off by the chlorinated water we were swimming in. I wanted to bolt.

Swim class really???? Don't people know that green means infection? Don't people know that swimming with a cold is really not that good of an idea? Don't people think about other people?

Now, you may be thinking that I am extremely harsh and that kids are always sick and you can't blame the parents. And that I should be so lucky to be in a situation that I can stay home if the nugget is sick, but I am not talking about school or daycare or riding the bus - situations where a runny nose is just part of the reality. I am talking about optional activities like birthday parties and swim class. It simply would have meant being the adult and changing plans. I know, you are thinking, just wait until its your turn.

Well today, it was my turn. Because as I had feared, the green goo is back and with a vengeance this time. The nugget is a cranky, clingy, watery-eyed, stuffy nosed, coughing little man and I am right there with him. We are quite a team.

And today, as irony would have it, we had a birthday party planned that I was really looking forward to, actually really looking forward to.

But instead I had to be the adult, had to be the mom who knew the potential consequences. So the nugget and I stayed home and missed an important 1st birthday. And yes, being that mom sometimes sucks.

Mom 2.0

Sometimes someone says it better than you ever could.

Sometimes someone reminds you that you are doing the most important job in the whole entire universe.

Sometimes someone reminds you why you pick up the toys 5 times a day or let them by messy or let them sleep in the middle.

Sometimes someone reminds you of all the things your mom did for you, that you can't even remember.

Sometimes you get a message in your inbox, with exactly the right message at exactly the right time.

Thank you Alex for sharing this with me.

First bump

So it happened.

He fell off the bed.

And we both cried.

This is a first I could have done without. And, I know this is just the beginning of many, many more bumps.

Me time

I went on a date with myself today.

I used to take Artist dates, a term Julia Cameron coined in her art manifesto The Artists's Way, as a way to get inspired, see the world, be by myself. It's like shopping - I don't really like to shop with other women or my husband or my mom. I like to go by myself and take my time and look and see and observe. And that time is what I miss most of all from my life before baby.

I need time to be alone - perhaps like some need time with others. And yes, I have all kinds of time alone these days but alone with a baby does not count. It does not count at all. Alone means alone - with no one to need me or alter my course or distract me.

So today, while the nugget played with his girlfriend Alex, I simply got in the car, left the to do list at home and drove downtown. (Okay, so I drove. Yes, I drove when I could have easily taken Muni. But cut me some slack - my time was limited and suddenly I have become very aware of germs and riding in a Muni bus for even 5 minutes is like swimming in an oversized petri dish. So yes, I drove.) And yes, I used precious babysitting time to just spend time with myself without really getting anything done. I won't make a habit of it - but today, I deserved it.

And what hit me immediately as I approached Market and Powell - is that there is a whole world going on. A world without babies and diapers and separation anxiety and puffs and sleep training and drool and car seats and my god the list goes on. I just wanted to stop and grab someone and say "Do you know that I had a baby?" And really, they would just look at me and say "Okay, crazy lady" and be on their way.

A world outside apartment #8. I was flabbergasted and amazed and envious.

What I wanted to do was meander through Anthropologie and get lost in the racks of clothes I was not about to buy and the home items that I have no room for in our tiny space. But I had a little bit of a mission: to find shirts that fit my postpartum/nursing body. I knew it wouldn't be fun and that I would need to swallow my pride when I looked at the size but this was part of my new year's intentions: to accept the state of this body, exactly as it is. I am only 6 days into the new year, so I have gotten to about my chin...I still have a way to go with this whole acceptance thing.

But back to my mission. I needed cheap, stylish and functional. I was/am not willing to invest a great deal of money into this new wardrobe - the first step is to accept, the second is to work really hard at changing it. Store #1, no dice. And the clock was ticking - so store #2 had to be a winner. So I marched into the Gap, grabbed a few pieces off the sale rack and was pleasantly surprised when I actually smiled at myself in the mirror.

It was a half smile - but I thought, "This will do."

Love

Here is what I love
Chapters that are 2 pages long

Here is what I am working on
Easing up on myself

I committed to reading one chapter of Momma Zen every Sunday. Already on the second Sunday I flaked. Do I get to excuse myself because it was Thanksgiving weekend or because I am a new mom and was probably really tired for some reason or that I simply just forgot. I think the only person that I have to justify myself to is myself and this is where the easing up on myself comes along. So, it's officially Monday (by 4 minutes to be exact) but if I had started writing 20 minutes ago instead of writing some emails, then it would have still been Sunday and I would have only missed one week. So much for easing up on myself.

Here is where the 2 page chapter comes in. I was going to catch up and make up the week I had "missed" by writing about two chapters, but then I thought, "Who am I rushing for? What on earth am I trying to prove?" And I realized that I am trying to prove to myself that the old me still exists: the organized, highly capable, multi-tasking, can-do girl who just gets stuff done. When really, I am now the absent-minded, forget everything unless its written down, distracted mom who manages to misplace her phone at least once a day. I thought that if I could commit to something once a week, that is for no one's benefit than my own, maybe I could believe that the old me is still in around, hiding on there somewhere.

And then of course, I read exactly what I needed to read. And I stopped at one chapter. Chapter 3 will be waiting for me next week. For today, in this short second chapter, there in black and white, it says: "It's not what you think it is. First, what you call your life is not yours at all - not yours to plan, manipulate, or control, at least not very often." (Momma Zen, p. 11) My life in fact, will never be as it was nor will I ever be how I was. There is no one better to remind me of this than the almost 9 month old nugget whose life is about being in the present moment, every moment of everyday. And though I can "schedule" our days in theory, there is an underlying unpredictable chaos that is bubbling right under the surface. I can twist and grind and clench my way to things looking the way that I want them to, but at the end of the day, the only person who suffers is me.

And then, bam, the sentence of all sentences:
" I was humiliated to see that the maturity and serenity I thought I had achieved was simply the result of having things my way all the time." (Momma Zen, p. 12)

And there you have it. Its not about me. And, its not even about him. It's about loving what is, what is not and what may never be.

Really?

Like the big white elephant in the room, it's there but no one wants to talk about. But today, we talked.

We talked about why, how, and why not, and how much, and how little with Andrea Nemerson, the writer of SF Bay Guardian's Sex Column. There were 7 of us - new moms that is and by the smiles and head nods and smirks and questions and me-too stories, I realized that this was indeed a worthy and important topic.

So we listened and shared and attended to our babies at the same time. And though we just touched on the tip of the iceberg, it was enough to send me on my way, feeling well, not alone.

And so my key take a-ways were this:

1. Most couples in the first year of parenthood experience an extreme change in their intimate relationship due to lack of sleep, exhaustion, changes in roles, changes in relationships, sleeping arrangements, pain, scheduling, etc, etc, etc. The list goes on and on and on.

2. It is NOT unusual to have a complete halt in your sexual relationship in the first year of parenthood.

3. That does not mean that your partner (usually the husband) is not not wanting it.

4. It is possible to be "overtouched" - meaning new moms are often in constant contact with their babies and their need to be physically touched or close to someone is fulfilled and that additional touch is the last thing they are wanting or needing.

5. Intimacy doesn't have to be sex - there are ALL kinds of ways to start to re-build your intimate relationship.

6. It will not be what it used to be, nothing ever is. But it could be better.

7. Talk, talk, talk about. And then keep talking about it. The conversations done in silence in your own head are the ones that start to breakdown your relationship.

8. Make time to be together without the baby, period. Do whatever it takes to make that happen. And when you do, don't talk about the baby.

9. Don't send dad to the couch or the spare bedroom. If he goes, follow or at least try.

10. Just do it.

My mom gave me this book a few weeks after I gave birth. She thought it was really cute. I have to admit, I chuckled.

When I mentioned it at the reunion of our childbirth prep class one of the women said, "Oh my god, my husband already does all of those things." I think the rest of us smiled sharply, trying to hide our sheer envy.

Yes, I have a great husband. And yes he helps. And...

However, on Sunday, he did something extremely unusual. I left with the nugget - to simply get him out of the house and I left a totally dismantled kitchen. Breakfast dishes, maybe even the night before dishes, a dishwasher that needed emptying and groceries that perhaps still needed to be put away. I left, knowing that I would have a mess to attend to when I got home.

We (the nugget and I) were gone for maybe an hour.

When we got home, as I reached the top stair, I heard the whirring sound of a newly loaded dishwasher and caught a glimpse of a completely cleaned up kitchen.

Right then and there, I wanted to ditch the baby and jump into his arms.

Yes, the book is dead on and that's all it takes.

Words of wisdom

37 years ago a pediatrician in Houston, Texas told my mother-in-law the following:

"Don't worry, they grow up in spite of you."

So, I will do what I can, when I can - and learn to give myself a break.

Me too.

Sometimes its the last line that says it all.

In the case of the first Chapter of Momma Zen, its dead on.

My mom gave me this book last Christmas - almost a year ago - when I had a big round tummy and a due date around the end of March. I think I started reading it the next morning, diligently highlighting the words of wisdom that I thought would have some relevance for this new journey into motherhood. I highlighted, I agreed, I got to Chapter 7 and I stopped. I am not exactly sure when that was, but I just remember feeling like I was not ready for the realities of her words and the realities of the lessons that were so inevitably in my path. I needed to stay in the moment - and my moment was 7 months pregnant.

So now, about 10 months after putting it down, I am picking it up again. And reading one chapter every Sunday, until I get to the end. That way, instead of simply highlighting and taking it all in at the same time and therefore retaining nothing, I will slow down and try to digest it properly.

And it's amazing what happens when you re-read something several times. Different words pop off the page and different sentences strike different places in your heart - even though nothing on the page has changed. But you have changed. Of all the things I highlighted these many months ago, today, on this day 8 months exactly since the nugget was born, there are 2 sentences that for me run circles around the rest:

First,
It {your life as a mother} will prove how capable and creative you are, how boundless and free. You are just not likely to believe it right away. {Momma Zen, p. 8}

I have always wondered about women who are mothers who say they aren't creative. The fact is that you can't be a mother and not be creative. And it has nothing to do with glitter or knitting needles. Its every soothed cry, every no turned into a yes, every made up song used to get through the line at the grocery store. It is true that I considered myself a capable and creative person before becoming a mother, but somehow this is different. How, I am not quite sure yet. And the boundless and free part, well that just makes me excited for what lies ahead.

And secondly,
I know. I understand. Me too. {Momma Zen, p. 8)

This is it - these may just be the only 6 words that I ever need to hear. Ever. Because they are the only ones that help when your hair isn't washed, your clothes are spit up on, your thoughts are consumed with your lack of sleep, your baby is on a boob strike and you just ran into one of those moms whose hair is perfectly straightened, her white shirt is pressed, her purse is actually a purse and not a 10 pound diaper suitcase and she is actually accessorized with a necklace and shiny battle flats.

Because, I am not alone in this. Ever. Not matter what it is. And neither are you.

First panic

This is indeed a year of firsts. First tooth, first steps, first word, first moment of panic. Most will belong to him, the last one belonged to me today.

I knew it would happen - that moment when your heart stops and world stops spinning. I just figured it would happen later, when he is mobile and as quick as the wind. But it happened today, and it had nothing to do with anything he did. This, was all me.

Straightforward day - mail thank you card, drop of project at printer, drive to Oakland to deliver food for new mama, papa and baby, cuddle new baby, pick up baby gate, feed baby, feed me, come home. I had it all figured out - timed perfectly so the first nap could happen in the car on the way to Oakland and the second on the way back. Easy, perfect, no problem.

Left the house, drove six blocks to the post-office, doubled parked, left keys in ignition, got out of car, left driver side door open, went to get card out of bag in trunk, went back to close driver side door, closed driver side door, went back to open back - and its locked. Go back to driver side door, and its locked. They are all locked. And the ignition is on. And the baby is inside. And then in one millionth of a second, I was helpless and terrified.

All of a sudden, he was in there and I was out there and I had no idea what to do. My keys, my phone, my baby. I could have panicked. That would have been understandable. But he was fine, the motor went to battery power (because its a hybrid) and all I needed to do was call a locksmith. Luckily I wasn't the only one mailing things this morning, so I chatted up a nice looking lady, told her what I had done, and asked for her phone. Who do you call? Do you call 911? She had internet on her phone, we found a locksmith, gave him the address and he said 15 minutes. When we figured I was okay, she dr0ve away and took her cell phone with her.

And then, he started to cry. No he started to scream - and I there was nothing I could do. I could see the tears streaming down his face and these little red eyes looking at me longingly. I sang Itsy Bitsy Spider through the tinted glass and hoped that my hand gestures would make him think this was an intentional game. But I could feel the panic start in my gut. And what was probably only minutes felt like unbearably long hours.

I asked another guy if he would check the hardware store around the corner - he simply shrugged and said they weren't open yet. I knew I just needed to wait - help was on the way. So I stood with my hand on the glass, hoping the nugget knew I was right there.

It was that hand that must have alerted her, because she knew. A few moments later a gentle looking woman asked me if I was okay - when I told her what was happening, she said "I knew - I saw you. I saw you talking to the glass and I knew there was someone inside. I am mom too. I will get my husband - he'll help."

And what happened next is 8 minutes of my life that played in fast forward. It looked something like this:
"Oh there is a baby in there - oh my god."
He called AAA.
His wife sang songs to the nugget.
I asked her name, she said Alejandra.
I said, me too.
She said it would be okay.
AAA arrived.
In 2 seconds the door was open.
I took nugget out and just held in my arms.
In 2 seconds he was fine.
AAA left - the husband had settled it all.
He won't let me pay.
He hugged me and said get AAA.
She hugged me and said Happy Thanksgiving.
I put nugget back in the car.
I got back int the car.
And I wept, uncontrollably.

Momma Zen

Part of navigating the first year of motherhood is learning to get very comfortable in the world of unpredictable chaos. Some days schedules work, other days they end in the trash with the mound of dirty diapers. For me, part of the "oh I am starting to feel normal again" thing that started around 6 months came with the addition of re-introducing rituals or habits or structures that were solely for my benefit and no one else. Part of that, was starting to write again. Another part was starting to read again.

Last week I committed to start reading Momma Zen again. (I had started in my 7 month of pregnancy and then needed to put it away - I wasn't ready for this real a look at motherhood.) But last week, I felt ready. So, I committed to read one chapter, every Sunday and then write about it.

So today, would have been that first Sunday. But what happened instead is that I read Karen's blog an hour ago, and what she wrote today, is better than anything that I could have put together. So, I pass along to you, her words, on this first Sunday of committing to reading her wise and witty words:

How to make a baby

Add baby.
Dispose of birth plan.
Put all cashmere out of reach.
Abandon eurostyle.
Abandon style.
Piss on style.
Shop Wal-Mart in haste and desperation.
Beg for hand-me-downs.
Wear husband's sweatpants.
Every day.
Leave room for baby weight, flat feet, worry lines and permanent scars.
Resemble your grandmother.
Forget bathing.
Luxuriate in a hot shower for 7 seconds one day.
Forget that day.
Chop off your hair.
Lose your head.
Soak all stains overnight in salty tears.
(The stains remain and the tears return.)
Simmer in fatigue.
Whisk in exhaustion.
Churn the night into the day.
Let surface harden until brittle.
Scrape the bottom.
Let time evaporate.
Give up completely.
Make nothing.
Except mac and cheese microwaved for 3.5 minutes on High.
Love without doubt.
Forever.

From Cheerio Road - the delightful blog of Karen Maezen Miller

Take comfort

Here is why I love Pandora. Because without trying, gifts like this fill your living room in the moment when you need it most.

Comfort by Deb Talan

When everyone has gone to sleep and you are wide awake, there's no one left to tell your troubles to. Just an hour ago, you listened to their voices lilting like a river over underground and the light from downstairs came up soft like daybreak, dimly as the heartache of a lonely child. If you can't remember a better time you can have mine, little one.

In days to come when your heart feels undone may you always find an open hand and take comfort wherever you can, you can, you can.

And oh, it's a strange place. And oh, everyone with a different face but just like you thought when you stopped here to linger, we're only as separate as your little fingers. So cry, why not? we all do then turn to one you love and smile a smile that lights up all the room.

Follow your dreams in through every out-door, it seems that's what we're here for. And when you can't remember a better time you can have mine, little one. In days to come when your heart feels undone, may you always find an open hand and take comfort, there is comfort.

Take comfort wherever you can, you can, you can.

************************************************

It's her voice and the lyrics - what I wish I could say to the nugget, every day. Another mama must have felt the same way...take a look.

It's official...

I am a mom. Because the night before Halloween, I was on the floor with glue, scissors and sheets of foam making a part of my son's costume.

It was just a rocket to go with the astronaut's space suit I found at Chloe's Closet, but it felt important.

So my little guy, to infinite and beyond!

Spilled milk

Today was just one of those days.

A missed morning nap, a mom+baby pilates class that never happened because I thought it was at 10am instead of 11, a 20 minute nap in the car, a carton of spilled milk, an afternoon nap where mom and baby slept until a quarter to 6.

So the emails didn't get checked, the dishes didn't get cleaned, the pear puree did not get made, dinner was a frozen pizza and bathtime will have to wait until tomorrow.

These days aren't easy. But now, as I sit here, listening to the hum of the dishwasher and the contented breathing of a papa and baby who have dozed off to sleep, I realize, that I could be grateful too for days like today.

Pampers

There is sleep and then there is awake. And then there needs to be another word for action or non-action that takes place between 10pm and 6am that is some funky mixture of the two in 1.5 hour increments.

Needless to say mama was really tired on Friday morning.

Let's just say I was SOO tired today that we made it all the way to Monterey to gran-mama's house before realizing I had left the bag I had packed for me and the nugget on our bed at home. That meant no diapers, no pj's, no food, no clothes for me, no underwear for me, no wipes, no good night books - nada! Luckily, I had run out of time to dry all the clothes that I had started to wash on Friday morning, so I had a bag of wet clothes in the car that maybe included a set of pj's for the little dude.

Luckily, there is always Safeway and there are always pampers, no matter where you are.

image from everyday people cartoons

I keep thinking I will go back and fill in the missing pieces - about breastfeeding, first teeth, first vacation and so forth. A mean, it's only been 6 months, that shouldn't be so hard to do. But then there is a day like today and all of a sudden it's 10pm and the whole evening disappeared because someone had some serious trouble going and staying asleep.

It just reminds me that we are still very much on baby time - and everything else just has to wait.