Maternity Leave Musings (Or, Sorry for Not Writing More): 7 Weeks Young

Bonjour! Hola! Hello, friend. Thank you for reading. How are we (almost) through the month of June and I haven't published again? I suppose summer is my maternity leave and summer vacation. A vacation where I attend circus camp, or, learning to juggle of three kids under three years old and handle toddlers who want the blue cup, not the yellow, or whatever her sister has (currently).

Hi yourself! What have you been doing?!

Stephen was born, I turned in my students' grades, and I was balancing three different medication schedules. Lyme, thrush and postpartum anxiety. PSA: check yourself and your family for ticks, if you spend time outside.

How are you feeling?

If you would have told 18 year old me that I'd be tired by 9:45 p.m. when I was 28, I probably would have laughed. I've always been a night owl... which means now is I can be up at 4 a.m. to walk Stephen around until he falls asleep; collapse into bed; wake up with my two chicks clucking from their bedroom.

Motherhood makes me stronger. It's endurance training. It's creativity and adventure. It's the tea bag in hot water metaphor that Eleanor Roosevelt said. I'm re-learning my limits and re-organzing our schedule/ house. I'm reading books for fun! (Need more David Foster Wallace! Currently reading about Catherine the Great and listening to Tolkien on cd.) I'm getting outside and enjoying our summer schedule; starting postpartum exercise. Grace was just approved for eye surgery by our insurance (hooray! more on that later!), so that's one more thing going our way.

Which is to say, I'm feeling fine. How are you?

Okay, elephant in the room: Seriously - how do you handle three kids by yourself?!

I don't live on an island alone. I have a husband who pitches in with everything and helps keep me focused and organized. I have a cleaning company come once a month since our rental is so old and our children are so young. Friends to text. And family! My MIL came for three weeks, then my mother for two weeks, and after I was alone during a number of night shifts (shakes fist at scheduling gods), my MIL arrived for another couple days stay to pick up our former Honda CRV. It's been a revolving door, honestly.

Sure, many days, I am alone. I've taken the kids out of the house multiple times - the grocery store, therapy, and even wrangled them to two doctors' appointments last Monday. I pack my bag full of snacks/bribes, diapers+wipes, and give myself enough time to get from point A to point B.

You're not convincing me, lady. 

It's a day by day thing.

I take a deep breath, nap when I can (or mentally rest with a t.v. show while I take care of Stephen if the girls are napping) and practice the value of "me" - enough sleep, water, nourishing food, exercise (even just a little), prayer and my medication. Last night, we took a walk to the emergency department for a change of scenery and to give Will dinner; it was a win-win for both of us.

My parents came to visit us after the Youth National Rowing Championship my brother and sister were in a few weekends ago, and my dad reminded me that they got a nanny after three kids. That sounds like a dreamboat, even though I do not work full-time like my mom did (does).

 It does give a person perspective, though. I'm officially in zone-to-zone defense.

Stop the presses. I read "medication" earlier. Are you on medication because you're crazy enough to have three kids in three years?

I developed anxiety while pregnant with Stephen; there were a lot of factors, but by the time the birth came, I was feeling amazing. When Will and I were walking home from the hospital with Stephen, I remember telling him that this was the best I've ever felt after a birth, and how excited I was to jump into this new adventure. About a week later, I felt the baby blues; a week after that, I felt them getting worse. I called my PA and immediately took action (but not before crying to the Phone Nurse). I'm trying to be honest about this because these meds are going to be with me for the summer, at least - and to remove some of the stigma of going on medication. Sometimes, you need it.

And yes: having three kids under three is the craziest and most amazing experience yet. You'll have to trust me there. I don't recommend it to (or for) everyone. But I'm thriving.

What makes it so amazing?

One thing my PA told me is that a lot of women get postpartum depression/ anxiety because their partner is not supportive of them. This is not my issue, and she stressed to me how lucky I am. I can 110 percent say that I could not do this without Will, even though his hours are not super-changing and residency is still residency. Have you ever been part of a team where your side is always for you? Even when you're crying because you ordered the birth announcements and made a minor error that no one else notices unless you point it out to them?

Will and I are both very independent people, and one of the best parts of having more kids is how we've become more interdependent on each other and really embraced the family lifestyle. This is not easy with our schedule; whether it's falling asleep on the girls' floor after a shift so he can be there for the bedtime routine, or staying up late to clean the kitchen and get ready for the next day.

One of my favorite sayings its from Tolkien's The Fellowship of the Ring: "All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us." Will and I choose each other every day. It sounds romantic, and it is; it can also be hard and self-denying. Still, we see beauty in what we know and how we choose to love ourselves, each other and our family. This is amazing. The actions we do each day builds our family, our adventures, our life. Boring is a perspective.

So! Things we're doing:

• Cleaning up/out every single room in the house. We've completed 4 so far; working on the dining room (dining room/ my downstairs office/ the girls' art table) right now
• Writing/ sending birth announcements and thank you cards 
• Playing outside and taking walks to the park
• Adjusting nap schedules 
• Eating popsicles
• Napping and getting to bed earlier 
• Books on cd; tv shows from the library; podcasts during the day and night
• Starting potty training (and watching Potty Time)
• Adding more items to my Subscribe & Save (guilty pleasure/ part of our kids budgeting)
• Making a zillion lists
• G's therapies 
• Trips to the library and grocery store
• Exploring new places
• Work stuff (third year and last year of residency starts tomorrow!)
• Posting on Instagram 

Hopefully, I'll publish more too (I write all the time, but I'm trying to keep it 50-50 with my reading). But in the meantime, here's to new adventures. May you have one every day.

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I Am What I Repeatedly Do: Why I Blog

I don't remember reading about this ring in Purgatory, but reading students' papers must be penance for all the bad papers I've written in my life.

I remember, freshman year, I wrote a bad paper. More accurately, a poorly edited paper. Ug, to think of it now! I just ran out of time! Time management has never been my strong suit. My professor asked me to stop by his office and told me that he's read my other papers, and he's read my articles in the school papers I wrote for - and I can do better. I have a way with words, and this paper was not up to par with my abilities.

Ouch, is all I remember. Oh, the shame. The shame. I needed that dose of reality. Hillsdale College gave me repeated doses of reality, all four years, and I became a better student because of them.

Now, I'm teaching writing to those young students of history. I'm teaching them the five paragraph format, thesis, body, analysis, and an original conclusion. It's made me think a lot about writing and my own journey.

The essay is, arguably, my favorite type of writing. It is also one of the hardest, due to its style and length. Which brings me to blogging.

I'll never understand all the existential crises I've had in regards to my blog. The WHY DO I BLOG misgivings and continuing the write here years after the willy-nilly start of this blog during college: the pull is still strong. I wrote through a Washington, D.C. internship, senior year of college, my first three jobs, friendships, and my entire relationship with my husband.

Sometimes, my blogging is about what I omit too - I've never wrote about the depth of my spiritual battles in college, heartaches again and again, the loneliness and hurt that cut deeper when you live in a snow globe, or dyslexia suspicions. But writing my blog - writing about my small victories, what I'm reading, what I'm trying, and what I love - gives me courage to write more publicly about the harder subjects, the ones I keep much closer to my shy heart.

When I was in college, I wrote letters to a few friends regularly. Most didn't reply back often in letter (gchat or a a text confirmed they were appreciated and read), but forging our friendship deeper helped me open up myself as an acceptable voice worth listening to. I loved writing letters in college, and today, as I struggle to finish Grace's birthday Thank You notes still, this blog is my new way of writing letters to friends I know are still reading.

I do write letters - I'm still pen-pals with a former professor of mine, a high school friend of mine, and a few college friends, including a sister-in-formation. I love the postcards that arrive in the mail now from travels; the baby announcements; and soon, the Christmas cards. For now, however, the blog reigns as my short essay; a kind of memoir, maybe, and a place where I can always publish, and even when I don't - where I can always write and don't have to worry about finding a stamp.

writing/ studying on the drive up to Michigan with our family pup

I never grappled with the term "writer" - I am one, ever since I was in the third grade and decided what I wanted to be while writing about Leprechauns. I do grapple with the word "blogger" though because, eh, it seems so informal. It brings out my worst fear that I am "wasting my talents" {unquote} and that what I write is unimportant... which brings me to you, dear readers: thanks for all the feedback.

Your feedback really brings out my Winston Churchill side to never, never, never, never give up writing. Some days, I'm too anxious to post -- what am I writing about?! For all the struggles and woe writing can bring, it is words that soothe the mind and warm the heart. Blogging gives that to me, and it gives back to those who needed to hear those words - it is too often to be a coincidence that I write substance people need to hear. This blog has the Holy Spirit racing through, and I feel it. My blog is beginning to feel like a mission, a purposeful outlet.

Then again, this is exactly what I try to capture in writing my blog - the extraordinary of the ordinary. The blog is such a normal medium, and my life isn't so special - except that it's mine. And as the leading lady of my own life, I have that responsibility to enjoy it.

And that is why I blog: I enjoy it. I don't blog for the numbers; I blog for the community that has grown around me and The Corner with a View. I don't always blog my best work; my best work comes out because of the writing I publish on this blog. I blog for the love of it, and that is really the only way to pursue passions. People are attracted to the genuine, to the beautiful and to love, and that is what I hope to give to my readers here.


Do you blog? Or why do you read blogs? What are your Aristotelian pursuits of the day?

Happy Monday! Thanks for reading, as my younger set like to write upon the conclusion of their essays... {We're working on that!}

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The Parenting Philosophical Society (and GHB at 9 months!)

Everyone is a Parenting Philosopher. You're doing what? Oh! Here's how I did it! According to this book/ article/ medical journal... You need to vaccinate/ I can't believe you're vaccinating. Cry it out? Yes way/ no way!

"Should she be chewing on that??"

I did not read any baby books while pregnant. It helped me not get anxious over unknowns and I learned to enjoy being pregnant (yes, even with all the nausea). I did read Bringing Up Bebe, which confirmed to me that letting kids play on their own is a good thing and for less helicopter parenting and more zone defense. But I knew that as a sister of five siblings and, later, a nanny. I like experience over theory; I like possibility over expectation. I was as ready for my sweet bebe as I was going to be, when the time came.

When did I really feel like a mother?

I ponder this question often. GHB turns 9 months today!!!!, and I am so crazy in love with this kid, Jay-Z and Beyonce are going to be jelly. She gets up in the morning and cries out till someone picks her up (thanks Will!), and when she sees me, she glows. There is nothing like the unconditional love glow of your baby every single time she sees you.

I knew I was a mother when, at 6 am of September 26 (Grace was born at 1:30, they took her away at 3 a.m., left me in a well-lit room until 5:30 am), the nurses brought her into me for a feeding just as I was drifting off to sleep.

My baby!! Sleeping while I'm awake. Typical.

REALLY, CHILD? I thought. MAMA SO SLEEPY. Then I touched her. She was my daughter? She responded to my touch. I brought her against me and fed her. When she was done, I put her back in her bassinet and when I tried to adjust my bed (for future notice, I like to sleep horizontal), she woke up. So I cradled her in my arms until the nurse came back to retrieve her to the hospital nursery so I could theoretically get more sleep. She snuggled against me and I just could not stop staring at that beautiful little bebe: my baby.

That's when I first felt like a mother: sacrificing my happiness for hers.

I feel like a mother because I care for Grace. I feed her, I dress her, I play with her, I read her books, and I take her almost everywhere I roam. Fortunately for me, she is a solid traveler. Unfortunately for me, she requires her own caravan and servants. Aha-kidding. I am her caravan.

I feel like a mother because I take responsibility for Grace. Guess who takes her to her doctor's appointments? Me. Guess who makes sure she gets Vitamin D? Me. Guess who does physical therapy with her? Me. Guess who gets up in the middle of the night when she's crying loudly or teething? Me again!

Beyonce moves during therapy

This morning, we attended breakfast with Will before his intern orientation lectures began. A fellow EM resident rushed over and gushed over Grace, before swooping her away to two other residents who, in turn spent the next 20 minutes passing her around, until she knocked over someone's cup of coffee. Oops.That child is mine. (May I get you more coffee??) I was very proud of her for allowing the women to hold her, and not getting her T-Rex look that usually comes with her stranger anxiety.

I feel like motherhood is looked at very conceptually: Am I ready? Or not? Sometimes, it is a clear answer. Othertimes, there is the invariable waffling because parenthood seems so inevitable, yet daunting.

I drove Will up the wall (I'm sure) the first few months of Grace's life, asking him how he felt about Grace. He loved her, fine, but how did he feel. Elation? Joy? Excitement?!

Happy? Okay, I can accept "happy"...

I'm happy too. I'm happy to be married to Will, I'm happy to be Grace's mom, and I'm happy with myself. At least, I am trying reallyreallyreally hard to be happy with myself.

I passed positive graffiti in the car today: "Love Yourself."

Yes, res publica! Love yourself! Note to self: not everyone feels as deeply as I do. And I feel deeply for Grace. I'm tardy on her month sticker pictures, I forget to write down her milestones, but I'm experiencing every day with her, and she teaches me so much. She shows me determination and she shows me sass.

So why have I been guilt-tripping myself on all the writing I don't do?

"No One Sleeps While I'm Awake" -- The Sounds (bedtime theme song)

I suppose, we humans like to show what we're capable of. We like to show what we can do. I know I do. And I am sharing this struggle with non-outside world productivity because I'm discovering that what I'm really doing these days is teaching Grace about love. Grace knows we love her, and she loves us - she loves us so much that she took a nap with me in bed this morning instead of in her crib. (Did I mention she has a total softy for a mother?)

And when I'm given advice, I know it usually comes from a place of love and a love of sharing one's knowledge to help better the world. Parenthood is not for the faint of heart. There will be crying and poopy diapers and weird rashes and the need/want to shower. There will be a baby in first place, always, who needs her mother to cares about herself too; loves herself too.

It is not enough to love your children. You must love yourself. This means learning to make mistakes and not taking everything personally. Different parenting techniques are not a reflection on you as a "bad" parent. If you're even trying to contribute to your child's happiness, you are already a "good" parent. We all have different roads we walk - why do we all want our children and problems to look the same, and be so easy to master.

I am not saying being sleep deprived has made me a better person. Lord knows I need my sleep. But the Good Lord also invented coffee (and sugar! and milk!), and naps for babies, so I am not totally without resources. And I am worthy. I am a daughter of the Lord and I do not struggle in vain.

Mamas, you are not doing this journey alone either! Find the joy in every day, and as my husband told me one morning after a very crabby night: Today is a new day! Make the most of it, and be happy.

Morning y'all!

Do you love yourself? You're the first teacher of self-love. Because we can show our children how to be happy. We can teach them what joy is, even when the skies grow dark. We teach them that in Christ, everything is possible -- even if that everything is one, small task of love. To-do lists don't matter when we look at eternity.

As St. Catherine of Siena said: "Start being brave about everything. Drive out darkness and spread light. Don’t look at your weaknesses. Realize instead that in Christ crucified you can do everything."

GHB, I wish you many months of happiness as you continue to approach your one year birthday. I am so proud of you! I love your smile, your laugh, your silliness, and the way you love your mom and dad. You are so patient with us. You are so strong during PT sessions. You are so good natured and snuggly. You are interested in the world, and an interesting little human. 

Will does the best voices for Frog and Toad

At 9 months, she:

• Sits independently
• Transitions around her toys
• Rolls
• Eats solids (mum-mums and blended fruits with oatmeal are her favorites!)
• Recognizes voices and faces
• Says "Ahhhhhhhh" and "mommomommomom" (especially when she wants me!)
• Expresses displeasure and happiness
• Laughs
• Pays attention and responds to stories and songs
• Picks up objects using hands, fingers, toes and sometimes her mouth (very resouceful!)

I hear her talking outloud as I type this...

Grace Harriet, you're growing up so fast! I hear you waking up! Mama is coming. You are loved.