The Perfect Imperfection

One of the greatest lessons of motherhood is learning non-attachment.

Non-attachment to schedules and things how they used to be, non-attachment to being on time or keeping commitments, non-attachment to how things should be.

Many months ago I committed to reading one chapter of Momma Zen every Sunday. i figured with chapters that are sometimes only a few pages long, this would be more than doable. But here I am, months later, and I am still only on Chapter 6. 4 pages in 4 months - that is almost laughable. No, it is simply motherhood.

But it is Sunday and I have read my chapter (for the 2nd time) and this one is important. They are all important, but this is really important because its about making making mistakes.

I have always wanted to do things right - who doesn't? But it is one thing to do things right for yourself, it is a whole other animal to do things right for your baby. And it starts with pre-natal vitamins and perhaps ends never. And with all the information and with all the choices, we think that if we do enough research, ask the right questions and make the right decisions, we will do what is right and perfect for our babies.

Until we make a mistake. Until they fall down the stairs because we left the gate open. Until they cry because the bite of sweet potato we gave was too hot. Until we lock them in the car with the motor running because we are doing too many things as the same time.

And so I made mistakes. I probably made a lot of them as a new mom. And I may never know the consequences of those mistakes, but I have to trust that they are as much a part of the nugget's learning experiences as my triumphs. I am not a perfect mom or wife or friend or daughter or sister and hopefully I can accept the imperfections of those around me. Karen Maezen Miller writes, "Practice acceptance on yourself so that you can be kinder to your child." Isn't that what we want, to be kind to our children? And yes, it begins with accepting ourselves, all parts of ourselves - the parts that we love and the parts that we wish could be different. The parts that take 4 months to read 4 pages and the parts that say one thing and do another.

Practice acceptance for all that is, exactly the way it is.

Just imagine

Nursing room in Great World City, Singapore

This is not what the Mother's Room looks like at BabiesRUs, but just imagine our department stores had rooms that looked like this?

I had to go to BabiesRUs today. I say had to because it is my absolute last resort - always - but when the nugget realized that he could pull out the plastic protector doodads that I so effectively put into all of our exposed electrical outlets, I knew I needed a better solution, fast. And sadly, in the city of San Francisco, my only option was to drive across the Golden Gate Bridge and head to the smelling of plastic, fluorescent bulb lit superstore.

It was my last stop before heading home, so I had already pushed the nugget to his limits. It was already ten after six and he hadn't eaten dinner and the tiredness was starting to pull at his eyelids. I asked him to spare me 10 more minutes and then I would get him home as soon as possible. I found my "nugget safe" outlet covers, grabbed a few bags of toddler finger foods and a pouch of some sort of organic freeze dried something, paid with the friendly yet oddly placed older Indian gentleman at the counter and then sheepishly asked. "You still have the breastfeeding room, right?

This is their one saving grace - this quiet, clean and non-descript room. The white billowy upholstered glider called me, almost magically and when I turned to sit, it was farther down than I expected. Me, plus the nugget and my purse and the newly acquired plastic bag fell into the chair and it caught us - my body relaxing immediately. It was like sitting in a cloud. If there is a baby number 2, I am sooo getting a chair like this, I thought to myself. I looked at the nug, he looked at me, I got him in position and I as started to lift out my boob he made this sound - like a fusion of "ah ha" and "yup". Sort of a high pitched "hup" and then feverishly went to town, eyes rolling back in his head. Guess he was hungry.

Once he finished, it had been my intention to eat and go but as soon as I perched the nugget into my lap, we didn't seem to be in a hurry anymore. I gave him the pouch of goodies I had just bought and helped him rip into it. There he sat, sort of to the right side, facing me, feverishly devouring the freeze dried apple cubes, while rhythmically spitting out the heart shaped puffs of grain that accompanied them. Tiny little fingers navigating the opening of the pouch and with such detail, picking at each small morsel. And then, with the same attentiveness the piece landed on his tiny little lips and then his hand was already reaching for the next one. Over and over again. His body felt like an extension of mine - I was not sure where mine stopped and his started. It was as if we had been sitting together in this chair forever.

I don't know how long we sat there.

When he had sufficiently emptied most of the pouch onto our laps and had more than 5 sucked on, spit out puffs attached to the top of his onesie, I figured it was time to head home. I cleaned up the mess, pocketed the parenting magazine I had started to read and wiped our hands with the last remaining dried out wipes.

I left BabiesRUs for the first time ever, with a huge smile on my face and a contentment that only comes from truly being in the present moment.

Meant to be

I don't like chain letters. And I don't like chain emails. But today, I received this in my inbox, and somehow I couldn't simply click delete without savoring every little morsel. And instead of forwarding it on to 7 other women, I am simply going to forward it to you...

May today there be peace within. May you trust that you are exactly where you are meant to be. May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith in yourself and others. May you use the gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. May you be content with yourself just the way you are.

I needed these words today. I will probably need these words again tomorrow, because there is no other way to deal with a cranky, runny-nosed, needy and totally-now-walking almost 11 month old tornado. A little tornado who managed to get to the kitchen, open "his" cupboard, get out an apple sauce snack, walk over to me and look at me as if I was taking way too slow to open it. What he didn't understand was that I was having one of those "oh @&^*" moments - the one where reality jolts you back into the present moment. The present moment where my not so little tiny baby actually intentionally brought me something to open. Then he just plopped down on the floor, right in front of the cold fridge door and began to blissfully savor every bite.

So, again, he reminded me that we are both exactly where we are meant to be.

Pressing pause

What would it be like to spend 10 days in silence, without words, books, and music? Without sweets, dairy, wheat, meat, coffee? Without sheets and duvets and down pillows? In two words, life changing.

On the eve of January 31, 2008*, at a monastery in Thailand, my husband and I stopped talking, not sure what we were really about to get into or what life would look like on the other side. We would be apart and yet together, sleeping apart, eating apart and experiencing meditation apart and it would in the end change us as a couple forever.

So today, on this 2nd anniversary of the first day of our visit, we commit to making the next 10 days as mindful, simple and contemplative as possible. First major difference: we have a 10 month old nugget. 2nd major difference: we don't have a staff of 5 cooking divine vegetarian Thai food everyday. 3rd major difference: we're sleeping in a bed instead of a concrete slab. 4th major difference: our 4am wake-up is a baby not a beautiful gong. 5th major difference: life.

But we will do our best. For what I realized after those 10 days in 2008, is that I have the ability to press pause, whenever life starts to move too fast.

And today, I am pressing pause. See you in 10 days.

*To read about our experience at the 10-day Silent Retreat in Suan Mokkh, Thailand - follow this link

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.

This is why

And so the student asked, "Why then do we meditate?"

And the teacher's answer was "To be peaceful for you, useful for them."

This has never been more true than in motherhood. I was in Thailand on retreat when I heard this, and it rang true then. Now, it seems there is really no other way.

So this morning, as soon as the nugget was asleep for his morning nap - instead of doing the dishes, answering emails, folding the laundry, straightening the living room, writing a to-do list, making phone calls or catching up on my blog reading, I sat. I sat on my pillow and observed a mind that was fighting every moment. I wanted to get up a hundred times. But I didn't. Instead, I decided to just breath and stay on the cushion. The point is to be where you are - and today I was able to sit and breathe.

And though it was only fifteen or so minutes, something about today was different. Something about me was different.

So, find your tools - do the things that create inner peace and calm for you.

Whoever and whatever your "them" are, they will thank you for it.

My mindfulness teacher

In the childbirth class that we took before the nugget's birth, our teacher Nancy Bardacke would often remind us that I was "Giving birth to our mindfulness teacher." I always thought I knew what she meant.

Today at Spirit Rock, surrounded by other mamas and papas, I really began to realize what she was talking about. You see, since this class started just a few weeks ago - so much has already changed. The baby who was at one point content to lie on the floor and suck on one of Sophie's limbs for at least part of the seated meditation turned into the baby who could sit up and be content with my keys and the new wooden car that grand-ma bought. Then, in just two weeks, that baby turned into an active 7 month old who can pull himself up on my pants and who seems to look at every little detail in his new world with a devouring and insatiable desire. Needless to say, there was little meditation or "paying attention" for me today. At least in the way that it used to look.

And when I realized that I would not be participating in the class today in the way that I would have without a baby or with a younger, more serene baby, I realized that what he was forcing me to do was to be in the present moment. His present moment - where everything is new and interesting and magical.

So everything always changes and live in the present moment - two lessons to learn over and over again.

Catching my breath

Last year, for the first 10 days of February, I was in silence at a Buddhist meditation retreat in Thailand. I sat, I watched, I learned and I listened. But above all else, I caught my breath.

Today, I caught it again.

It seems such a simple thing to do - this breathing thing. And in fact, it is simple but it is not easy. Sometimes, at the end of the day, after dinnertime and bath time and story time, I sit down and realize that perhaps I hadn't breathed all day. Really breathed - like those deep breaths that plummet you back into the moment, back into the present instead of the land of anticipation, preparing and planning. And I know that if I allowed myself a few seconds several times a day to let my breath bring me back to the present moment that I would feel less anxious about the grown-up dinner that is not ready or the decision I have to make about this season's flu shot.

So today, I allowed myself. In fact, I allowed myself 6 hours of it at the Mindful Motherhood daylong at San Francisco Zen Center. There were seasoned moms and new moms and moms-in-waiting, all hoping for that nugget of truth or that "ha-ha" moment that might make their 3 year old's tantrum more tolerable or their 3 month old's nighttime feeding precious again. But in the end, there was no nugget of truth, just the breath that we all had with us from the start.

I did leave with a powerful insight into the physical contraction that follows after loosing one's breath. It is a gnarling of the joints,a stiffening of the muscles, a hardening of the shoulders, a clenching of the jaw, a grinding of the teeth and worst of all a tightening of the heart. This place of contraction, in which I am holding my breath and living in constant anticipation of the laundry that needs to be washed, the diapers that need to be purchased or meltdowns that will inevitably happen, leaves me stiff and inflexible - both physically and mentally. So today, one breath at a time, I softened.

And everything and nothing has changed.

Dukkha

I was at Spirit Rock this morning, for another gathering of the Path of Parenting class. It is quite extraordinary to attempt any sort of meditation in a room filled with the coos and cries of at least 10 infants under the age of one. But that is why were are there, that is the whole point.

Since I have a nugget who would rather wiggle his way over my legs and through my arms than lay contented on his back with some sort of distracting toy, my practice is also to remain present and listen without getting sucked into his energetic movements. But it is much more difficult when his body is so connected to my own. But I continued, with one ear in the conversation and one eye on him.

But I left today with an "ha-ha". An ha-ha of understanding, of clarity. Dukkha is a Pali word that is often simply translated into Suffering. Anyone who has studied Buddhism knows that the Buddha's first teaching is that life is Suffering. It is through the practice of meditation and mindfulness that one is able to reduce some of this suffering. Forgive this VERY simplified definition - I am a new mom with only a small window for writing.

I have heard this word Suffering over and over again, and never really connected with it. Not that I haven't suffered or experienced pain - but the word Suffering to me describes something extremely difficult and soul destroying like famine or the after affects of war. What I was experiencing from an overactive mind or from making assumptions needed a different word.

And today I heard it - pervasive unsatisfactoryness.

That's it. Its uncomfortable in these pre-pregnancy clothes that are still too tight, its annoyed that the cupboard doors are open again, its unhappy with the paint in that room or the upholstery on that chair, its dissatisfied with the monotony of motherhood. That's the suffering.

Now I get it, now I get what the Buddha was talking about.

This too shall pass...

I ran into a friend of my brother's today. He is 30, a dad to a 1 1/2 year old and a police officer. I remember him from his college days - quite different from the man who was now standing in front 0f me. I introduced him to the nugget. And he melted. Immediately.

He saw the little nugget toes moving around in the sunshine and with a sort of longing said "Oh, I miss those baby toes. Those feet. My guy has dude feet and they stink. Can I just hold him?"

And with that he took him into his arms and simply inhaled. And right there, on the street in Mill Valley I was reminded that this too shall pass. I realized in that moment that I have only so much time left with those little feet. Those feet with those toes that stay all curled up when he is gleefully engrossed in the new object I hold in front of him. Those feet with those toes that seem to collect lint even when he is not wearing any socks. Those feet with those toes that are as soft as clouds. Those feet with those toes that fit perfectly into the palm of my hand.

Loving kindness deployed

I knew this day would come, I just wasn't sure when. Amidst the bliss and exhaustion, instead of loosing my cool towards this little helpless being who was screaming for a reason that I was unable to decipher, I closed my eyes and I started the mental mantra - May he be free from harm, May he feel protected and safe, May he be free of pain, May he feel loved, May he be happy.

And it worked. My nerves settled, my heart opened and whether or not his crying subdued was somewhat irrelevant.

A different kind of preparation

I wish I could help navigate all the differing opinions that are being thrown at new moms or say that it gets better, but unfortunately it is just part of having a baby. Our nugget was born 5 months ago and the opposing opinions now relate to vaccinations, solids, sleep and everything in between.

I remember when I was pregnant, just wishing someone would tell me what stroller to get, what class to take, what book to read, etc

My husband and I actually took the Mindfulness Based Childbirth Prep Class at the Osher Center and it was an incredibly beneficial class. Not really a typical childbirth prep class - but more a preparation for whatever our labor was going to look like. I can HIGHLY recommend Nancy Bardake and this class. http://www.mindfulbirthing.org/classes/MBCE_detail.html

Wisdom to go

So I did it - today I joined the ranks of the stroller pushing, Starbucks sipping mommy brigade that frequents the area of San Francisco known as Laurel Village. I even made the obligatory stop to babyGap and Gymboree - only to realize that there is absolutely nothing the little nugget needs. I did buy an eco-friendly pacifier (just in case) and re-usable wipes at DayOne and left before the "we NEED to have this" monster set in.

I allowed myself a Chai at Starbucks though somehow it was not as indulgently satisfying as I remember - perhaps I should have gotten some frothy sort of Frappa-something and really indulged. I put the cup nicely in the holder of my Snap-N-Go stroller and back to the car we went.

Once nugget, stroller and mama were in place - and the to go cup was now nestled into the appropriate holder in my car, my eyes focused on the text on the back of the cup. And I had to stop and read it again. Here is what it said.."The irony of commitment is that it's deeply liberating - in work, in play, in love. The act frees you from the tyranny of your internal critic, from the fear that likes to dress itself up and parade around as rational hesitation. To commit is to remove your head as the barrier to your life."

It is true - we fear the constriction of commitment, what we think we must give up. But really, there is only freedom on the otherside.

What are you afraid to commit to? What's stopping you?

It was one of the perfect spring days in San Francisco - and this was the day that I joined a very pregnant group of women to walk the labrynth in front of the great towers of Grace Cathedral.

In a maze, there is the potential to get lost and confused - to take the wrong turn and end up at a dead end. But with a labrymth, there is only the path - the right path, that unfolds with each step and will present itself if you trust and simply follow. This is a beautiful metaphor for birth - for the process will reveal itself and it is our duty to listen, pay attention and simply follow the path that presents itself to us.

And so we walked.

Slowly and together - mindful of our feet on the pavement, mindful of the women ahead of us and behind us, mindful of the birds, the gentle breeze, mindful of the construction workers enjoying their lunch in the warmth of the sunshine, mindful of the bursting little boys bursting with energy as they walked to their next class.

And, it was all as it should have been - a perfect snapshot of life, with it's noises, laughter, distractions and imperfections.