Mama musings

Hair brushed. Check. Bra snapped. Check. Shirt pulled down. Check. No milk stains on shirt. Check. Proper pants, not pajama bottoms. Check. All must be in order before venturing out into the real world if I am to regain my sense of normalcy. A nice walk in the breezy sunshine and I feel fresh. This is perhaps better than a shower. I smile at people and function almost like I did before baby brain. An extra breeze as I return home unsettles me. My fly has wiggled itself down and I dart for the nearest bush before pure embarrassment sets in. Betrayed by my own jeans! Damn you, jeans. You deserve the life of chili stains and raspberry guts that awaits you.

~~~~~

Each day, returning from our walk, Bella and I stop to greet each of her favorite trees. We talk to them and gaze at the kaleidoscope of greens dappled by the sunlight. I assure her that trees are the best listeners she'll ever meet and she coos and babbles at them in a way she never does with her toys. I run her hands through the leaves and needles so she knows they are real, so she can feel that nature is softer than a blanket, smoother than a plastic toy, and pulses with a warmth no gadget can.

This time, she stuns me. I wrest her arms free of the cozy wrap and she stares peacefully but full of purpose. Then a tentative hand reaches out. She waves her hand back and forth, relishing in the feeling, letting each individual needle return the greeting with a tickle to her fingers, her palm, her arm. A few misses and she has what she was aiming for, a fistful of green. Yesterday when I noticed a bit of dirt under her fingernails, I smiled. I hope her hands are always graced with smudges of earth and the sweet scent of evergreens.


~~~~~

I'm endlessly amazed as I watch her reach. So confident. Adults learns to doubt themselves. If something was impossible yesterday, why should today be any different? But Bella just concentrates on her hands and the tree, willing them to find each other. Yesterday I wasn't ready, but today I am. Today's a good day to reach, why not?

Yesterday I plopped her on the floor onto her belly. Not her favorite thing in the world, but it's nice to see her handle it better each day. No fuss this time. Wriggling, and another look of concentration. Before I have a chance to decide what to do with my Bella-free time, she's already rolled over. Yesterday I wasn't ready, but today I am. Today's a good day to roll, why not?

Sometimes children just have a better understanding of the world, fresh and unspoiled. They know what they themselves need and apply it unselfishly to others. They are not yet dampened by our arbitrary rules of social interaction. Often it's just a refreshing hello or goodbye from a child whose parent was simply going to pass someone by without a word. Or it's an uninhibited conversation with an adult while parents and onlookers glance sheepishly around, awkward and uncomfortable about how to tactfully put and end to such friendliness. Why should a child learn to say hello to one person and not another? Everyone needs to be smiled at. Where in our lives do we lose the ability to just enjoy genuine interaction? Today we can't, but perhaps tomorrow we can, why not?

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mommyhood

It's been a melancholy week. I suppose I'm PMSing. Without the M. I hear it can happen, and it has been happening regularly every month, the week after Bella's month birthday. Or maybe it just falls the week before bills are due. Coincidence? Perhaps not. Enter parenthood, not to be confused with mommyhood. Mommyhood is emotional but pure. There's nothing a little booba can't fix. And there's nothing Bella can't fix with that genuine whole-body smile and that peach-soft voice. That sound can coax me out from any mood and bring me back to earth, back to what's important. My child, my gift, that's mommyhood, and there's not a moment I don't cherish.

But parenthood is frustrating. It's when you wonder how each paycheck could possibly stretch to the next bill, and what to do when it won't. I used to just pick up an extra shift, but there's no flexibility in life anymore, and my attempts to work at home are failing. Sometimes I smack my head and wonder what I was thinking, having a kid before clearing off debt. But it was suddenly so important, to have my own child instead of handing one back each night, after adventures and bubble baths and story time and hugs and cuddles. I wanted a child that I could fall in love with (even more? would it be possible? indeed, it is.) and keep. And after one loss, it seemed all the more important that it be now.

I know that it is useless to imagine myself with the child I was destined not to have. But on these melancholy days, it's hard not to bring myself back there. My happiest memories of our brief relationship were early winter mornings as the car warmed up, me gazing blissfully up at the stars through the sun roof, talking out loud as I dreamed of day we would name the stars together. I was never able to feel that content when I was pregnant with Isabelle. Even now, my heart stops mid beat at the inevitable possibility that some day we will be separated. That's the complexity of mommyhood. Simultaneously knowing the purest love and the most profound fear of loss.

It's hard to dig out from beneath that stifling, suffocating fear. Last year I was in such a dark place that even now, basking in the warm glow of motherhood, I'm chilled by the memories and fear of future loss. That's for another post perhaps, one that is always circulating in my brain. It's a feeling that is impossible to fully express, and harder still for others to understand while hovering on the outside, restrained by a society that is afraid to touch those who have lost something so dear.

Bella is a reality now, my happiness and light, defining me in new ways each day. I get to wear her day in and day out, an extension of myself, her favorite place to be. She's cozy and involved, and for a girl who refuses to nurse to sleep, there's no better way to count sheep. But those are all excuses. I love it, too. Selfishly, I need her close, back home, kicking and wiggling against my skin. At last I get to enjoy it from the outside in a way I never could when she was inside, fearing that my body might somehow turn on me again. But she's here now, teaching me to enjoy life in ways I never thought possible.

Thankfully, when the stresses parenthood creep up and threaten to overtake my new found happiness, mommyhood steps in. When bills stack up and I feel farther from home than ever, and my beautiful girl is screaming in fatigue and frustration, I call upon the memory of the One I Lost to get me through. He reminds me to think of our best moments and cherish the one who made it here just to be with me. It's painful and bittersweet for me to thank him for giving himself up so that I could have my Isabelle, and because of it I cherish my daughter, my gift, all the more each day.

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My Multitalented Daughter

So in the last two weeks, Bella has become a great multitasker. She's a baby born for this modern world! She has determined that feet are as useful as they are fascinating. Severely disgruntled that she can't get them close enough to her mouth to suck on, my little fist addict has learned that feet can jingle the mobile just as well as her hands. Why bother to relinquish a hand (the double fisted hand suck is a very important skill), when she can just as easily use her feet to play with her toys! I guess when you think about having unrefined motor skills, feet aren't much different than hands! I hope she won't be dismayed when we break the news that feet are mostly for walking.


Her second revelation in the past week has been mirrors. Being ECers, we spend quite a lot of quality time in the bathroom. First, they were confusing, but now she realizes that the person in the mirror is ALSO Mommy! Oh my! So now she stares and stares at the people in the mirror, especially the funny looking baby who is always smiling back at her. When mommy looks right at her in the mirror, it elicits all sorts of squeakles (we're not all the way to giggles yet). The only time she gets a bit concerned is when I'm looking at her in the mirror, and then I start talking behind her as well. How can there be two mommies? Oh well, the more the merrier, and let the squeakling continue!

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Back in the game!

I made scones! Yay! Okay, so it's not bread that needs kneading or cinnamon rolls that need rolling out, but I haven't baked since Bella was born, and I feel a sense of victory! And I made them with fresh raspberries and tayberries from my first visit to the Renton farmer's market. Isabelle is very interested in the kitchen, and hopefully she'll take an interest in cooking some day!
Obviously photography with an infant strapped to me is not my forte.

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In Pursuit of Time

"How old is she?" someone asks, the question that inevitably follows Bella wooing any stranger with her giddy, playful smiley conversation. "Two months." A reluctant sigh simultaneously escapes my mouth. "Almost three months," Dave says proudly. He's quick to correct me, like a child who knows just how important those extra few weeks are. I finally concede to two-and-a-half months. Like a mother who knows just how important those extra few weeks are.

Every time I put Bella's laundry away, I have to push aside the clothes that are too small and squish in the larger sizes that I reluctantly keep adding. I can't bring myself to put the smaller clothes away just yet. I can't admit to myself how much she has grown. In my mind, if I start putting those clothes into storage, I'll wake up tomorrow morning and my baby will be a toddler.

I always carry Isabelle in my wrap and the closeness is good for us both. She's been in a stroller once in her life, and she was asleep the whole time. High up in her wrap, Isabelle is very visible to everyone and I enjoy sharing her with people. A young baby brings joy to any stranger's eyes. It's the soft look on the faces of other mothers, though, that reminds me how quickly today will become yesterday. Bella and I haven't argued yet, haven't held a grudge, haven't had a day that we'd like to forget. The mothers tell me, beg me, to enjoy every moment of it. Then comes the dreaded phrase, "It goes by so fast."

I can hardly remember my pregnancy with Bella, and it definitely did not go by fast. When I smell the lotion I used all that winter, I can vaguely recall the belly, the kicks, and the hiccups that kept me awake at night. I won't use the lotion for anything else for fear its scent will no longer bring back that feeling of contentment and mystery of living day in and day out with a perfect being I have never met. I don't want to have such a wistful recollection of Isabelle's nursing days. I want to ingrain every moment solidly in my mind. The way her eyes drift about peacefully as she scans the room, full of thoughts no one will ever know. The way she holds my finger with her top hand, and rhythmically kneads my side with the other. I enjoy every moment of every day and wish Bella could stay like this forever. I know I'll enjoy watching her grow up, but it's today that I can't imagine life getting any better. Never in my life have I lived so much in the present as now. If only those moms could know just how much I appreciate what I have.

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Milk, not Poo

When Isabelle woke up, I pulled her out of the wrap and took her to the bathroom. There I was, holding her, and she was smiley as always, but gave no indication of needing to go. But this is when she always goes, I thought to myself. While we were enjoying ourselves she turned to me, looked straight into my eyes, opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue. I copied her, thinking she was making up a new game, and we went at it for a while until my light bulb turned on. "Earth to mommy. I don't have to go yet, I'm hungry. Milk, not poo." So I took her to the couch, fed her, and when she got bored I brought her back to the bathroom where she promptly did her business.

Alas, ECing is about listening to the child, not yourself. Would I otherwise have ever imagined in my wildest dreams that a two month old baby could tell me not only when she needed to go, but precisely when she did not? Just to prove the point further, and to keep me from thinking I had imagined it all, she did the exact same thing after her second nap. That's my Bella, always wanting to do thing her way since day one.

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