What connects us to one another?

From the moment we are conceived and cells begin dividing we are connected to our mother’s womb by a life giving cord. When we are born we are connected to our mothers and fathers by their arms that carry us and hold us and protect us. As we grow the physical connection diminishes. We are connected then by our hearts which have the capacity to continue that bond through all space and time reaching the farthest ends of the universe. We are whole because of the love given to us by our family. It can be broken by no one and no thing. It is eternal.

Mother’s Day

There has been tremendous discussion this week in social media and beyond, about motherhood and having what it takes to be “Mom enough”. One of my favorite articles that I read can be found in its entirety here . The bulk of it is summed up in a list of wishes from the author, a mother, and to paraphrase wouldn’t do it justice so here is the list. (Again, I didn’t write this, see the link for author credits)

I hope I raise a child who says “thank you” to the bus driver when he gets off the bus, “please” to the waiter taking his order at the restaurant, and holds the elevator doors when someone’s rushing to get in.

I hope I raise a child who loses graciously and wins without bragging. I hope he learns that disappointments are fleeting and so are triumphs, and if he comes home at night to people who love him, neither one matter. Nobody is keeping score, except sometimes on Facebook.

I hope I raise a child who is kind to old people.

I hope I raise a child who realizes that life is unfair: Some people are born rich or gorgeous. Some people really are handed things that they don’t deserve. Some people luck into jobs or wealth that they don’t earn. Tough.

I hope I raise a child who gets what he wants just often enough to keep him optimistic but not enough to make him spoiled.

I hope I raise a child who knows that he’s loved and special but that he’s not the center of the universe and never, ever will be.

I hope I raise a child who will stick up for a kid who’s being bullied on the playground. I also hope I raise a child who, if he’s the one being bullied, fights back. Hard. Oh, and if he’s the bully? I hope he realizes that his mother, who once wore brown plastic glasses and read the phonebook on the school bus, will cause him more pain than a bully ever could.

I hope I raise a child who relishes life’s tiny pleasures—whether it’s a piece of music, or the color of a gorgeous flower, or Chinese takeout on a rainy Sunday night.

I hope I raise a child who is open-minded and curious about the world without being reckless.

I hope I raise a child who doesn’t need to affirm his self-worth through bigotry, snobbery, materialism, or violence.

I hope I raise a child who likes to read.

I hope I raise a child who is courageous when sick and grateful when healthy.

I hope I raise a child who begins and ends all relationships straightforwardly and honorably.

I hope I raise a child who can spot superficiality and artifice from a mile away and spends his time with people and things that feel authentic to him.

I hope I raise a child who makes quality friends and keeps them.

I hope I raise a child who realizes that his parents are flawed but loves them anyway.

And I hope that if my child turns out to be a colossal screw-up, I take it in stride. I hope I remember that he’s his own person, and there’s only so much I can do. He is not an appendage to be dangled from my breasts on the cover of a magazine, his success is not my ego’s accessory, and I am not Super Mom.

I’ve decided to print out this list and refer to it often because if I can manage even half of these things I think I will have succeeded in raising some pretty decent children. The point though, isn’t that this list applies to everyone. This isn’t a one-size-fits-all gig. And I resent that some people try to make it so. At the end of the day the best we can do is hope we’ve done well enough and reflect on our actions, hoping to do better tomorrow. And as long as the connection remains, I believe, we can say that we have. So here’s to motherhood in whatever way it applies to you. Here’s to long nights and dirty diapers. Graduations and weddings, time outs and teacher conferences, scraped knees and training bras– All the trials and joys that life as a mother brings. Here’s to mothers.

Happy Mother’s Day

Women are notorious for feeling like they always have to hold everything together. And I count myself among that breed of women. So yesterday, when the construction superintendent told us our house was delayed yet another month (totaling 7 months of delay and counting) I just about lost it. I excused myself and walked out of the meeting. I wanted to shed my tears in peace. I stormed out of the unfinished kitchen and out into the yard which is currently made up of sandy dirt, and started preparing mental lists of what needed to happen now.

Push back the closet install, reschedule the guy who is doing the finish work on our bathroom, reschedule the delivery of Andrew’s furniture and our sofa, postpone the installation of the blinds on the windows, pay for another month of storage, and possibly delay our renters. My thoughts then turned to the piles of boxes in our closets and garage that have been packed, some of them, for almost a year. Because at the time we thought we only had a few months left here and knew we’d have a newborn to deal with. So away the things went. Furniture was sold, pictures removed from the walls, books and toys put away. “We won’t need this before we move.” I said to things like our baby push walker, play table, and a host of other 6-12 month toys. Things that we shoved in the back of the storage unit thinking they would see the light of day long before we had a baby old enough to use them. Ha!

Inconvenience.

That’s what this boils down to. A great big, giant, headache of inconvenience.

Lack of control.

That’s what makes this just about one of the most frustrating experiences I’ve ever had. If you know me you know I like control and being at the mercy of someone else makes me insane.

So I had my pity party. A completely immature mental implosion complete with some mental foot stomping, anger and frustration that I expressed in the form being generally worthless for about 24 hours. I didn’t sleep well and I woke up grumpy.

And then the sea of guilt flooded in, the guilt that threatened to drown me from within. A voice of anger- not at the situation, but at myself. “You’ve had your pity party now it’s time to suck it up, buttercup.” That’s what my inner voice said to me.

So you can’t move for another month. So what? At least you have a place to live and it’s true. I do. At least you have food on your table. True as well. You have clothes to wear and healthy children and a good education, and a job, and a loving husband, and on and on and on thoughts flooded my mind. How dare I be so selfish, so thankless?

But two things choked off my anger faster than anything else. I thought of two married friends who said good-bye to each other yesterday as one went off to war. I thought of another friend who will spend her first mother’s day tomorrow without her precious baby in her arms. And I felt small and insignificant for complaining when I have nothing at all to complain about.

So my house is taking longer. It sucks but I’ll live. I’m back on track. I’m strong. I can do this. Everyone needs a little pity party now and then and that’s fine, just as long as when the time comes you know how to get up, brush yourself off and count the blessings you do have because life could be far worse and it is far worse when you’re not thankful for what you do have.

What a week it’s been! After a total runaround trying to buy my new camera from company after company that was sold out and back ordered, I got a very unexpected phone call from the first company (pcnation.com– AWESOME customer service!) that my long awaited camera was coming after all!! It finally arrived yesterday and I had in my mind that I was going to read the owner’s manual from cover to cover before using it. And then I said “screw that” and just started shooting. I’m BEYOND in love! I feel like it’s connected to my brain and I can finally, finally after over a decade of doing photography as a hobby, look at my pictures and be truly happy with them. So this week’s theme is a bit of a stretch but hey, what did you expect?

Before I get into that, I have to also say it’s been a real Andrew week. He’s been so patient and accepting of Allison since she arrived and never has shown even a hint of jealousy but over the last few weeks we started to notice his behavior was on a sharp decline and I think it had a lot to do with not having enough Mommy and Daddy attention. So Thursday, when A randomly decided to surprise Andrew by taking him to a Rays game, and Saturday when, thanks to the great idea of a great friend, we decided to go on a Mommy/Son double date, Andrew finally got some good QT with us that I think was badly needed– for all of us. We all had a ball and it served as a good reminder to us that each kid needs his or her own special time with us just as much as we need it with them.

But on the Allison front, much has happened as well. We’ve discovered she is quite the tomboy and we are perfectly happy with that. She doesn’t mind the dresses and frills (yet) but don’t bother her with a doll because she likes Andrew’s Bat Cave, the train table, and the Hotwheels cars beyond anything more age and gender appropriate. She also doesn’t mind getting dirty. At all. I took her outside to play with my new camera and took just a few shots. She loved the grass and would have been happy to eat the dirt all evening if I let her! So while I explored my new camera, she explored our yard. I couldn’t be happier with these quick snapshots. What do you think?

We shall call this one Allison takes on the stairs.

or

Mommy has a heart attack.

Take your pick.

Just don’t tell either of my kids their actual ages, they won’t believe you. Andrew wants desperately to be almost 7 like his cousin and Allison desperately wants to keep up with her almost 4 year old brother. It is what gets her scooting gates around and sneaking up the stairs when Mommy is occupied with other important things.

It has been a busy week for us. Allison turned 8 months old and finally decided to sleep through the night. And I don’t mean that textbook definition of 5 straight hours because while that is a great milestone when a kid is like a month old, it is completely unacceptable at 8 months. Nope, two nights in a row she went from 7ish to 7ish. Now I can start catching up on the last 17 months of poor sleep.

Back to the stairs. I guess I had this idea in mind that I would have this sweet, dainty, quiet little girl. God gave us a firecracker! An inquisitive, determined, spirited, loving little girl. In addition to learning how to move gates and scoot up stairs she also learned to say “Mama” only it doesn’t come out gently or sweetly, it comes out more like a demand. “MAMA!!” But I love it and it makes me smile She keeps me on my toes but I wouldn’t ask for it any other way.

Imitation is the most sincere form of flattery, right? I know some people strongly disagree with this and can’t stand being copied but my little photo bug in training whips out his camera to photograph his favorite subjects– his cars or his sister– and I couldn’t be happier!

Even sweeter is watching her sit still and actually LET him take her picture rather than crawling off like she does when I try to get a quick snapshot.

And speaking of cameras…

This week I ordered the brand new Canon 5D Mark III. I have been saving up for a long time and my birthday (on Tuesday) will put me over the top. So with shaking hands, I placed the order. It is, of course, backordered until further notice but I’ll get it eventually. And despite saving and planning and waiting and researching and all that I still got to where I questioned whether or not I really wanted to spend the money. I don’t do this for a living but it’s more of a passion and has been for a long time. But that still didn’t really justify the cost. Then it hit me. What I actually bought was a camera that will (hopefully) see the world the way I see it and allow me to capture what I see in my mind, not just whatever the finicky camera software thinks I see. When the kids are grown and moved out, when I’m retired and old and gray what will I have left but the memories? So that’s what I’m getting– a means of capturing those memories. Pretty priceless if you ask me. Pictures do more than capture one moment in time. They capture one’s life story. And with any luck, my own passion just got handed off to the next generation. He will keep telling our story and grasping those moments, that way we will always remember.

Ah gender roles.

Such a wannabe taboo subject for children. You find parents are either one way or the other- either they discourage play with toys designated for the opposite gender or they embrace it. There is little in-between. I count myself among the latter. I could not be less concerned with which toys my children decide to play with.

A couple weeks ago when Andrew’s favorite toy of the week was a small Tinkerbell figurine (“because she has pretty wings”) I was all for it. And when, over the past week and a half, Allison decided that she loves cars more than any other toy in this house I was secretly elated. I was not a girly girl myself. One of my favorite toys growing up was a firetruck. Barbies brought on a sense of disgust. Andrew even gave Allison one of his beloved vehicles to be hers and hers alone. He did pick a purple one though

At the end of the day this isn’t about gender specific or nonspecific toys. Anything goes in our family. This is about my two children playing together, really together. I remember when I was trying to get pregnant with Allison and hearing other people talk about how they wanted a sister for their daughter or a brother for their son and I wondered if for some reason sisters and brothers didn’t play together. Well let me assure you, they do! And there are few things more precious than watching them play. Next week Andrew goes back to school. Spring break is over. I’m going to miss my big boy around the house and for the first time in her life thus far, I know Allison will miss him too, not just as her big bro but as her playmate.

Well this may look a little different than usual. I typically try not to use posed photos for this project because that would be through my eyes and not my kids’ which is the point. But I took around 300 pictures this week and this is the one I kept returning to because it made me laugh so much. Yes, I was trying to get a nice Easter portrait of the three people I love most in this world. And as such I planned the outfits, the location (to some extent, we are rather limited at this house) and the pose itself. And like many things I’ve planned, the outcome was different than expected. But that’s okay because this one made me laugh and this one is one I’ll remember because it shows Allison’s personality so perfectly.

We have handsome hubby smiling nicely. We have Andrew, not looking directly at the camera like I wanted but still looking quite dashing. Then we have Allison who is maniacally laughing as she attempts to strangle her brother!

No she’s not a demon child as I sometimes joke. She’s just got a very feisty personality at times and she wants what she wants and she saw that beautiful striped tie inviting her to yank! Forget you and your silly pictures, Mommy, this is much more fun!! She’s always been one to make her own plans from well, the moment of her existence.

It just goes to show how once you become a parent, no even before that, once you even start thinking about becoming a parent you realize you’re just along for the ride! You are no longer in control. Even something as simple as a photograph isn’t going to be quite how you planned it to be. But more often than not the lesson we learn is to look deeper and find that just below the surface is something even better.

A very blessed Easter to all of you!

Meet Bella, my beautiful niece! She may as well be Andrew’s sister since from the time she was born they shared a nanny and spent all day every day together up until Andrew went to school. But as cousins and neighbors (my brother and sister-in-law live only 4 houses down from us) they still see each other frequently and their playful dynamic is simply adorable.

So when Andrew wasn’t following directions in the pool and was sent to have a time out on the chair, Bella came to his rescue offering her company and a bag of goldfish. They sat quietly sharing the bag until Andrew had more than served his time out.
No one understands the quirks and nuances of your family the way cousins do. And I know how unusual it is for Andrew and Allison to have all three of their first cousins living within a couple miles of our home. It’s truly a blessing.

On warm sunny days when the pool beckons, the goldfish are delightfully soggy, and the laughter is plentiful who better to share these moments with than your family.

I’ll admit, some weeks I have to purposely take a picture for this project. It’s not that I don’t take a lot of pictures, I do. It’s just that not all of them tell the story I’m trying to tell here. Well we just got back from Disney World. Had a truly wonderful and magical time– Allison’s first trip. But of all the pictures I took (several hundred despite my camera dying on me half way through Epcot) I kept coming back to this one. If this doesn’t explain life through Allison’s eyes right now I don’t know what does. Right now she is Daddy’s Girl no two ways about it. She’s comforted by just about anyone who holds her but lately only Daddy puts that sparkle in her eyes.

I’m honestly not trying to make light of it. I’m just trying to make a point– they’re all the same and they mostly all in one way or another make any mom who is unable to breastfeed feel guilty and that’s exactly what new moms need: a healthy dose of guilt. Woah sarcasm!

The truth is, breastfeeding is important to me and I think in all seriousness that it’s important to just about all moms, even those that choose not to do it. It’s just that in all the articles I’ve read I’ve never come across one like the one I’m about to write which is exactly why I’m putting myself out there and sharing something that is pretty personal.

I have a 7 month old daughter and from the start I was bound and determined come hell or high water that I was going to breastfeed her. I set my bar high– a year. That’s a high goal coming from someone who nursed for a month with my first. And truth be told nursing her has been a dream. I could not have asked for a better experience. My milk came in right away and there have been few supply issues. I experienced zero pain even from the very start which was astonishing to me. I made it to the one month mark with ease and just kept going. We were able to go exclusively for 6 months with the exception of one taste of pureed sweet potatoes and 2 days of formula. I had pumped 170 oz for her for when I went on a trip to Italy and it lasted all but those last two days I was gone. I’m pretty darn proud of that. I’m certain we’ll make it to the year mark and maybe beyond that as well.

You’re saying, “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”

Yeah I would have hated me too because the experience I had with my first, my son, was the polar opposite of everything I just described. Everything that could go wrong went wrong with that experience. It started with my milk not arriving until the 5th day and in my horror and fear of starving him to death I started supplementing. My supply was never sufficient no matter how much nursing and pumping I did. Then it turned out he had a milk protein intolerance that caused him to scream like he was dying every time I fed him. I know now I could have given up dairy and that it takes up to 3 weeks for all the dairy in your system to get out of your body but I didn’t know that at the time. I don’t remember the first month of his life other than to know I thought on more than one occasion “What on earth was I thinking?” In a nutshell it was a horrible experience but if you think all those reasons were bad enough let me tell you the thing that happened to me that no one EVER talks about and that took me hours of web digging to discover for myself.

You see if the exhaustion and blur of being a new mom wasn’t bad enough, the pain of cracked and bleeding nipples wasn’t bad enough, and the screaming child who was allergic to my milk wasn’t bad enough, I experienced something that I now know has a name. D-MER which stands for Dysphoric Milk Ejection Reflex and if you’re thinking, “Woah what the hell is that?” Then you are right there with me.

I’m guessing most women don’t experience this. Or maybe they do but don’t talk about it. Because I really did have a hard time finding information about it. But it goes something like this– you know the Dementors that live in Harry Potter’s world? The creatures that suck all the happiness out of you just before sucking out your soul through your mouth? Yeah, that’s what D-MER is. It’s a great big breastfeeding Dementor sucking the life out of you every single time your milk lets down.

So there I was, a new mom, my sweet perfect little boy in my arms. I was sleep deprived yes, but I still felt joy at the life in my arms. And then he would latch on. And within a minute my mood would do a complete 180. I started to feel drained of all joy and happiness. Dark thoughts filled my mind. I felt pure hopelessness and utter despair. It didn’t matter what I was doing or who I was with. I could have had someone walk in and tell me I’d just won the lottery while at the same time achieving world peace but if I was nursing while that happened I would have felt nothing. I thought to myself, “Oh this is what Post Partum Depression feels like”. But I was wrong, it’s not the same as PPD. In fact I did not have PPD. I  had D-MER. But it took me some time to associate the two things (nursing and despair) together and by the time I did I had already given up. After all aside from all the other battles to fight, who wants to feel like they want to jump off a bridge 10 times a day? Not me, that’s for sure.

Fast forward 3 years to the nights before Allison was born. I had heard good things about using a breast pump to stimulate labor (which it did!) But I was shocked the moment that feeling returned to me. How could this be PPD? I haven’t even given birth yet?! So I started googling and that’s what I found. Now since I’m no where close to qualified to explain the problem medically, and it is a medical problem, I encourage you to go to the website and read about it because it will probably make more sense that way. I’m happy to say that just knowing about it and anticipating it helped me ward off those awful negative feelings and they haven’t been a problem at all this time around but at least if they happen again in the future I’ll know what it is and I can send my patronus (Harry Potter speak for the thing that rids you of Dementors) after the D-MER and not let it steal my happiness away from me.

Is this something that has happened to you? I’d love to hear from other people who have experienced this. Please share this article with anyone you think might need or want to see it.

D-MER.org