A rendezvous with an old Love...

I just got back from France - a short visit of 7 days, with husband, mother in law and baby. The trip was inspired by my friend Beth's wedding near Dijon and we turned it into a family affair. For my three fellow travellers, it was the first time in France... but not for me.

I spent a semester of highschool there, in Strasbourg - it was my first time abroad - the experience that made me a world traveller. Being there again brought back feelings I had forgotten...

It was like a short, whirlwind encounter with an old flame. France was my First - the one that started it all - the one that made me hungry for more. Its new ways shook me, then changed me: the woman I am today is a direct evolution of that porous 17 year old who soaked in France for 4 months. I love it. I feel like I can be myself there, like I have everything I need there.

The timing of this reconnection is dangerous: tragically, I find my old love again after I am already married - to Estonia. And I have a list, necessarily short to serve the needs of my new child, of places where I can live in this life.

The timing is bad, France. But having been with you again, I don't know how I can go on living without you, knowing you exist.

Perhaps there will be a possibility of a Ménage à trois...

Our Meaning is in Being

One of the most dangerous times in our lives - and perhaps the most overlooked of all dangerous times - is the mid-twenties. It is right up there with the mid-teens in terms of figuring out who you are and what you are going to be; being pulled in many directions; making choices that will impact the rest of your life. This critical period happens when you've been out of school long enough to notice that the world is not as conquerable as you thought it would be but before you have had time to earn the skills and money that you need to actually do any conquering.

I feel like we have social systems in place to take care of teenagers and midlife-crisisers, but I see nothing for the quarterlife crisis.

I was thinking today, while watching my 5 month old baby staring euphorically at a lamp, that maybe nature creates us to have these crisis points exactly when life renews itself before our eyes. We have babies in our mid-twenties: we witness what a human is like in its purest form and learn again that the meaning of life is to love, that nothing superficial matters, bright light is beautiful and curiosity is our true calling.

And then, when we've had a few more decades to toil - and we may come to a point again where we see our life's efforts haven't made the dent we thought they would, then we have grandchildren and they teach us all over again who we are.

If, in seeking the truths of the universe, we look to the other species, we see this pattern. When an animal has a short life, the pattern looks magnified to us -we imagine rows of generations of insects being born, giving birth, and dying. From the outside, it looks so fruitless and pointless - but to experience it yourself, it feels so rich. It looks so pointless, in fact, that it may be in observing the cycle in other creatures that we insist there must be more for ourselves... we try to make there be more... thinking, feeling, trying... activities that lead us to our moments of crisis. And then we feel the peace and purpose of bringing in a baby to the world and for a moment we feel saved.

First Time across the Ocean with a baby

I have run through airports and flown on planes many dozens of times in my life. I started when I was 16 - before the world was afraid - before hypersecurity - and I created it in my mind to the most romantic place. It is a place - even though it is thousands of places (planes, airports, cities, countries). In this place, there are no natives and there are no foreigners - none of us belong, all of us are passing through. And I am not what anyone sees me as or knows me to be - I am stripped of all cultural and social context and therefore feel completely free to be completely me.

I made rituals for myself in this place: I always sample things in Duty Free; I always take my time in the bathrooms; I always take a journal.

A few years ago, a great thing happened to me - I found someone to be mine and he goes to this place with me. His passport is a different color but he likes most of the same things. I compromised some of my rituals but I added new ones: we sit together and speak to each other in a mix of languages (german, estonian, spanish, english, bit of arabic) that we both understand and figure no one else around us can. We get through long transoceanic flights watching movies and snuggling, sleeping on each other in uncomfortable positions.

And for the first time, we are three. I got dropped off to my special place, now with a husband and a baby. In general, I would say my place is not a good place for a 4 month old - the scale and scope of it is too big and busy; there is too much unexplained noise all around all the time; no good places to sleep; no good places to eat; external schedules dictating rather than the schedules of his body. But here are some things I learned:

1. Even tiny sounds are painfully audible in an airplane. Though my baby cries very little, he does make noises over a 9 hour period and those noises are heard by about a 20 person radius, depending on the plane. His noises made his parents stressed because we want to be polite to others. I noticed that as I walked my sweet (quiet) baby down the aisles, there were some kind smiles directed at me, all of them from older people - and I wondered if they were remembering their own experiences.

2. We nursed on the way up and on the way down (to help his ears) - calculating and manipulating sleeping and eating schedules, etc. I begin to wonder if all that was necessary...

3. Parents of an infant don't sleep. At all. We were awake 30 hours straight.

4. My son is a charmer. I watched, fascinated as my tiny baby looked at the people on the plane. He would glance at the crowd and then one face seemed good to him and he looked at that person with obvious intent of being looked at in return. If he got what he wanted, he lit up with a smile, which, of course, meant one was returned back to him. When he got that smile, he was very happy and moved on to the next person. He liked some more than others and they were always women.

This is the one thing I didn't read about plane riding with infants - whatever bothersome noises are erased by their charms. Hayden loved the end, where people had to walk close by him as they unboarded - he made at least 8 people smile back at him. The whole back of the plane was filled with a warm energy as people who hadn't wanted to smile were forced to, and the ice of awkwardness at being in such tight proximity to others yet trying to retain isolation was broken - a dozen people could no longer help but be aware that they had all just been made happy by the same thing - the tiny baby in my arms. Peep and I just watched, stunned and shy. We have discussed that we wish for our child that he be a people-person but felt concerned that we wouldn't be able to teach him. If anything, this experience taught us that Hayden is already a social genius and all we have to do is not mess him up.

Now we are all three in the little garden house Peep grew up in - finally his mother has met her newest grandson. We are where we set out to go and being here is worth the journey.

Silver Lining of the Recession

I had to go to the Social Security office and the DMV both in one day. After a decade or more of going to these places, I was prepared with a folder of multiples of every possible paperwork, something to sew while I waited and a grim forbearance. I was bracing myself for the dull faces who always give me attitude because their jobs are so incredibly boring that they have to make my life difficult in order to make their own interesting.

I was shocked to find the persons behind both desks were lively and efficient and had an attitude like they wanted to help me. No this has never happened to me before - two in one day even. Where did these crummy boring offices find such gems? And why now all of a sudden? Oh, yeah...

I don't know which companies laid them off, but I am so grateful to find them in their new jobs.

Why all mothers are Crazy

I understand today why all mothers are crazy. It is an observation I've made for many years, beginning as a teenager - I don't know one single mother who is totally normal. They worry way too much, have irrational fears or emotional outbursts or are controlling etc. I was really hoping to avoid being that and even thought I had a chance since being aware of a danger can usually aid in preventing it.

But Today, my baby fell onto the floor. I wasn't in the room, I wasn't even in the house. Both his parents were using his nap time to do some gardening and from outside I heard a thump. My first thought, with a primal ache inside of me in some place I didn't know I had, was "dear god, please don't let that be my baby." And as my feet were running to the door my mind was racing to find any other explanation for that sound and by the time I was helpless in that, I saw his tiny curled up body, face down on the floor and he was wailing.

I was crying, I was screaming: I picked him up and held him, shutting my eyes against what I was afraid I would see and I asked Peep, who was right behind me to look. I asked, "Is he okay? Is he okay?" through my tears. (Writing about this makes my stomach churn) Peep was shockingly calm when he answered that he was fine.

And I am afraid that little incident may have finally shattered the glass of my sanity and I am filing into the ranks of motherhood. And I understand it now.

In other things in life, when we fail, we have the option to quit. We pick up the violin and it sounds terrible - We feel bad for a minute but then we put it down and move on to something else. Or even when the stakes are higher: we crash our car and hurt someone, we can say we will never drive again, and so on. But in this task, we do not have the option to quit. I felt it today - like I have failed so badly there is no going forward, and my mind wanted to take me down that familiar route of coping - "let it go, move on" but I couldn't budge. I'm here for life. He's still my baby, he's still in my arms and he could fall again and what's to say I can do a better job then. And I'm only 2 months in.

I spent the rest of the evening traumatized, hearing him fall all over the house and jerking my head around to see him, happy and gurgling. I saw that this was 10 times harder on me than it was on him. And then I saw the future - this is only the beginning - he will fall again, harder even.

Any time people have talked to me about parenting being hard, this is what they meant. I've been saying, "No, we get plenty of sleep." "He really doesn't cry that much." "He's such an easy baby." but they weren't talking about those things. Today was my initiation. And it turns out there's no chance of dodging that bullet, even though I saw it coming a long way away and had plenty of time.

Birth and Death

It occurred to me while I was pregnant that there is a profound parallel here.

While pregnant, I could feel the spirit of the one coming (every woman I know has felt this)

I began to have this eerie feeling: Here I was, walking around in the world and my baby was with me - I felt him - but he was not aware at all of where we were. Looking at the situation in terms of physics, the baby was inside of me and I was walking in the park, therefore the baby was also moving through the park.

It struck me that he was existing on a parallel plane - those parallel universes we talk about in terms of science fiction actually happen in a practical, observable way. He was here but he wasn't at the same time - and that perhaps in this experience I was so privileged to partake in, there was some enlightenment about how we travel to and from this world.

People who have near death experiences often describe travelling through a tunnel toward a bright light. That is also what birth is. The baby, all of sudden, on one fateful day feels called (or is pushed?) through a tunnel toward a very bright light.

Those who have come close to death and come back say they could feel loved ones on the other side waiting to greet them. That is birth - he came out stunned, brand new, and we who knew he was coming caught him in our lovingly awaiting arms.

Now he looks around at the world as though he's never seen it - but he was with me all along. And there were brief instances when the worlds crossed. He always kicked in response to his daddy's loud booming response and it still arrests his attention and gets him squirming. His active time in the womb is still his most restless out here. I wonder then, if that's what our miraculous moments are - when we just "know" not to go that way or when we suddenly feel the presence of a long dead loved one in the room with us - if we are also walking parallel with the spirit world but we just can't see it. And perhaps there are people who know our fate and our watching us develop, and are preparing for the moment when we, scared and unknowing, will birth ourselves back into their world.

The Birth Story

My due date came and went and I was still pregnant. We went from an excited "it could be any day now" feeling to a disappointment and concern. I even started to give up - I had dreams at night that the baby left my belly and went to another person - that he'd changed his mind about being with us.

On January 28, 8 days after he was "supposed" to come, I went in for a checkup with the midwife. She said she would have to make an appointment for me to be induced in 2 days at which point my loosening mind could no longer talk itself into staying together. I nodded and accepted, then left the building and cried for 2 hours in the parking lot. It was like I had failed and that the people who had been helping me along the way expected me to fail. Then, as always happens when something is pushed too far, I snapped back. They can't induce me if I don't show up. So I called the midwife back and said I was sorry but I was not going to go to that appointment, and after much haggling, finally won. My dear husband spent the whole afternoon with me, bought me primrose oil and a wholefoods blueberry muffin that my sister swears made her go into labor.

That night, I sat and stewed and realized I had so many issues. This impending birth was swimming in my fears and past and stories... I had been preparing for a natural birth, training my mind to find it peaceful and pleasurable, though I had never done it before and didn't know how so wasn't sure if I was training right. During my own birth, labor was induced - it was long and painful and the mother went crazy afterward and I have always tried to be nothing like her. And there I was, teetering so maddeningly on the edge of making my first step into motherhood the same first step she took.

So I called my dad. I couldn't ask the question I really had in my mind, so I said something polite and appropriate like, "tell me about my birth, dad." But he must have known, so he answered my real question. He told me I was nothing like her and specifically detailed the differences between our lives and who we are. I felt peace after that, like I could move forward. I can still feel the essence of that evening, glowing with intense emotion and red light.

That night, around midnight, I felt contractions start, the same as in every night for the previous 10 days. They wouldn't let me sleep so I got up and walked. Around 1:30, I began to feel the slightest hope that these weren't Braxton Hicks, but I wasn't about to count on it. But they were intense enough that I thought this was a good opportunity to practice for the real thing so I started trying out different things. I got into a warm bath - it felt really good but restricted my movement, so I had to keep getting out. I turned on my meditation tape but it made me vomit. I tried some belly dancing. Around 3:00 am it occurred to me that this was probably labor, and at 3:30 I had no further reason to doubt that, so I called Lily and Jayme to give them a "heads up" that some time today, I would probably have a baby and to go back to sleep since this was still the beginning. (Labor lasts 18 hours, right?) I was alone in my silent dark house. As the contractions became stronger, I found the best way to get through them was by laying my head down on my arms (on the back of the couch, kitchen bar, etc) slightly bent over with my legs bouncing beneath me. In between contractions, I was doing a load of laundry - trying to clean up the vomit. Sometime after calling Jayme, maybe 3:45, I woke my sleeping husband and said, "honey, I think we're having a baby today" and continued bouncing.

I could never describe the feeling as painful. At the top of each contraction, there was a moment - I have no idea but maybe 20 seconds - where I could see why women want epidurals. But then that moment would fade and I was washed over with rushing warmth and euphoria, followed by an open sea of peace. And so I bounced and rested through these cycles.

I had been bouncing in my bathroom when I felt a subtle change, like a shift of pressure inside me and I told Peep to call the midwife. I talked with her on the phone and said I felt pressure and thought I needed to go to the hospital. She sat there through one of my moaning contractions and I said "that was a contraction". She told me to stay home and keep timing my contractions (I had not been). It felt wrong, but she was the expert. Peep started timing, though I was oblivious of him (they were in fact 2 to 3 minutes). Then I felt the urge to push and I realized with horror just how far along we were. I had been waiting for the pain to become unbearable - up to that point, it had been so nice - what I thought was the prologue had in fact been the whole play and here it was already the end and I was not at all ready!! Peep heard me say "I want to push" and flew into his own parallel panic. He readied things in the car (having only been himself awake 20 -30 minutes).

I called the midwife and said "I am coming now" (no matter what you say!) I managed to put some clothes on, while my water broke on the floor and I saw blood. The water breaking felt good - it felt like the release of pressure , satisfying like scratching an itch is satisfying. And I kept wanting to push, and I could feel the baby coming down and there I was still in my bathroom. Everything in my body and heart wanted me to stay right where I was and finish this - I couldn't go; I couldn't leave. And then my mind engaged and I took a look at my situation and laid out my choice: I could have the baby here, but did I want that? My husband would be panicked, this was not what we planned - we would be all alone. And I decided to try go to the hospital, even though I might not make it.

So I crawled/shuffled/pushed myself out of the house, with no shoes, and tumbled into the front seat of Peep's car, where I kneeled down with my back to the windshield and my arms around the headrest and he drove. I remembered that you can blow to prevent yourself from pushing, so I was blowing and blowing with every thing I had - but I felt the baby progressing anyway. After an eternity, we made it to the hospital doors and I felt so relieved. Peep drove straight to the entrance and said "Just wait here while I bring you a wheelchair" to which I replied through my breathing, "I'm not waiting" and stumbled out. Peep had my elbow and I was barely on my feet and we somehow managed to cover the hallways and finally I was where I was supposed to be. Peep went to move the car.

In seconds, I was on the bed with several nurses and my midwife, busying around me and gazing expectantly between my widespread legs. We were all ready, but now we were waiting for Peep- I was blowing and blowing - and then he came, and finally I was allowed to birth my baby. It was wonderful. It was like singing out my heart's desire to an adoring and admiring audience. I told everyone to be quiet and let me do my thing. A few pushes and he was out at 4:58 am: Perfect, plump, with big open peaceful blue eyes. The nurses told me I was on that bed less than 10 minutes.

And, all of a sudden, there were three

I married my One in April 2010 and found out about 1 month later that I was pregnant even though that wasn't supposed to be possible without surgery. I remember the day the strip turned pink - I dropped everything and drove to Peep and the next hours and days were nothing but testing and testing to confirm the impossible.

When I finally believed it, I was swimming in such a cocktail of feelings. I was in shock. I felt robbed of the time I thought I had to be me, to be young, to enjoy my new marriage. I also felt giddy with joy and so special. I felt a profound relief that I could in fact have children. And I was scared because I didn't know what I was doing.

In those days, a few things established themselves. One, this is our love child and we are so honored to be chosen and even though it was not our plan, we accept it. And, I was not in control of this, so, just in this part of my life, I stepped aside and into a new paradigm - that my life is the wave I am riding, not the path I am walking.

And, as I think do most young women who just find out they are pregnant and bow down to whatever force of power they can find, I frantically prayed for guidance, and got one simple answer: "Have me and I will be easy."

And then there was 9 months of pregnancy. For the first 3 months, I did not breathe a word. I was holding my breath for the miscarriage I was statistically likely to have. I lived life as usual, even throwing ourselves another wedding and going on a honeymoon. I was sick. So sick. Two pieces of advice for pregnant women: 1. Wait till your second trimester before going on your honeymoon. 2. Wait till your second trimester to remove your wisdom teeth.

All of those difficult weeks were in Estonia, the wrong place to be for a nauseous pregnant Texan who only wanted tacos and hates pork. But we survived, and Peep was so caring and patient. At 13 weeks, we found out the baby was fine and would probably stick. We also heard he would be a boy. Then, I told my family and I believed it.

And the remaining months, he was right. He was easy. Pregnancy did some wonderful things for me.

1. No stress. Somehow, my whole being knew. It was like I grounded myself into my pregnancy so that not only did I eat the things that would be good for the baby, I thought and felt things that would be good for the baby. All of a sudden, I had an off switch for the stress and it was automatic. I didn't try or focus or commit or anything like that - just 15 seconds feeling stressed out and then the mind/body would like stop bloodflow to that bit of my brain and I would be happy again. I also never got mad at my husband. I was always nice.

2. My skin cleared up. I have since the age of 12 had a bit of a battle with my body over being a woman - like somehow not all of me was on board and we were a bit out of sync, causing me suffering in all kinds of ways. Pregnancy cured me.

3. I was forced to take care of myself. For reasons that I analyze and trace back to ancient bits of my life, I habitually prioritize myself and my well being last. I, like many, have lived under the self-imposed dictum that the more I suffer, the more virtuous I am and walk around making my life as difficult as possible and then bragging to others in complaining tones how little sleep I get and when my last meal was and what a heavy thing I carried, etc etc. So pregnancy rescued me from that. Now, to be virtuous, I HAD to take care of myself. And what a relief, to be pulled away from the selfishness of selflessness.

4. It made my take the short path. There are two kinds of people and I am the kind that does things the long, hard, complicated way. Perfectionist for its own sake and often to a fault. A few friends coming over might turn into me cooking a 5 course meal and inventing a new cocktail and buying more furniture. But pregnant, I had no extra energy to waste and my thoughts changed to take that into account: remove me from my tunnel of vision and ask the question - does the energy I put in really affect the result?