13 years ago
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Best. Baby.Ever.
Chasing Happy
I've avoided writing about this for a long time for a myriad of reasons. Mostly, pride. Right behind that, fear that I would seem ungrateful, which I am not. I wake up every day knowing how lucky I am. How the stars have somehow aligned to bring me this life, this home, this family. Sam and Samaire are my world, and I am blessed blessed blessed to inhabit it.
But.
But.
How to find the words? The words to explain, to put meaning to, to somehow make physical this aching in my chest? The waking in the night, the anxiousness during the day. I *want* to be unerringly happy, and by all accounts I should be and yet there is this place inside me where tears live so close to the surface. Where my skin is raw and where I feel, ultimately and undeniably vulnerable. Is this something every new mom goes through? Something that is just left over demons from my before-life? I don't know. What I do know is that this small sliver of me affects my days. Affects my life in ways I wish it wouldn't.
I skirt around the word "depression." I know what it means, I have been its bedfellow. This seems to be it's cousin, the same and yet still distant. I can fight through it often. It debilitates me not, but it hounds me relentlessly. I have days when I feel on the verge of a breakdown every second and it feels as if it takes all I have to just keep going, keep moving. I don't know how best to describe it. I obviously lack the right words.
I am hoping it's hormones. That I will wake up and it will be gone one morning. Cobwebs finally shaken off. I know that part of it is the return to "the real world" after being home with Maire for so long; of living in my own eden for a while. I know too that it's me figuring stuff out. My life is so wonderful in all its other places, the few I'm still balancing and trying to figure out nip at my heels. And of course, it's me - finding myself again. Trying hard to find, to make, to find value again in the things only I can do. Things that are not of Maire. Not of our home. Not of us, Sam and I.
Of finding the trust that she will still be here, tomorrow and the day after and the day after that.
Allowing myself that time somehow, without her.
"Allowing" not even being the right word again. "Learn" to make time is more appropriate. I no longer know how to be without her, nor do I want to be.
I know this is just another journey I'm on in this new life of mine, but so far it is by far the hardest. Maire has been such a blessing in all ways. It seems the hardest part for me in being a new mom is, well, me.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Six Months, 5 days
Dear Maire,
I'm a few days late again, I hope you'll forgive me. It seems now I hate to do anything but squeeze very moment with you, and even writing this letter takes a back seat to our games of "head, shoulders, knees and toes" and peek-a-boo. So I'm up now, at 5 am to get this in - I truly wouldn't have it any other way.
You've been sick this last month. It's a cold it seems you just can't shake, but true to form, you have been smiling through your tears. It seems nothing can damped your spirit. I feel like it's my responsibility to to make sure that's always the case. I know the world will bring us a lot harder things to deal with than a cough and runny nose, but I'm determined to conquer them all. I think, together, you and I can do just about anything, honestly.
And that's the feeling I have now. That it's you and I. You're such your own person now. You're a spitfire, that's for sure. And as weird as it is to say out loud, one of my best friends. I feel like we've just met (and, well we have) and yet, you've always been here. I forget what it was like before you. Before I woke every morning with a smile. Before I laughed every night while dancing. There were days before all this, I know it, but they've slipped away. Their stresses and worries and joys all fade in comparison to what life is like now.
It's just 6 months, but it might as well have been a lifetime.
Every thing means more to me now. Every decision I make carries more weight, every smile contains more joy. My whole world is better because of you. It's harder too, of course. I'm exhausted all the time now. I run behind the lists of "do's" like a dog behind a speeding car. But it's okay. It's all okay.
You can say "mama." You giggle sometimes for no reason. You have this smile, when you're really happy where you open your mouth so big it looks like your about to laugh, but the sound is just too much. Your eyes crinkle up to little half-moons when you're pleased with something. You sing with me as we walk home down the street... you give me so many reasons to keep going. To be happy myself.
And as much as I hate that you're in daycare, you seem to be enjoying it. I still cry every day I leave you, walking to the train. But they care well for you there and you're making friends. Of course you're making friends. Miss Rochelle tells all about what you do every day when I arrive after work, and it's been fun to hear about you from someone else. It's like this golden slice of perspective. She confirms every thing we already know - that you're empathetic. You hate to hear the other babies cry. You're sociable, you won't go into the "quiet room" to sleep, but have to be out where you can see people. And you're anxious to be "bigger." You love going into the toddler room to watch them, to play with them.
I know you can see what's coming, and you can't wait to get there. I see the sparkle in your eyes when you manage a step or two, or when you make some little sound I interpret correctly. You're so ready to grow bigger, be stronger - be older, somehow.
And as much as I love watching you conquer every little step. As much as I love seeing you strive constantly for what you want (oh, how I love your determination!) I am still looking for the "pause" button every once in a while. These days with you, this time you and I share, are only getting shorter. They're only getting more rare. I know the days to come will only get better, of course. But sometimes, when you're cuddled up in my arms talking to me in your sleep I think - "this. this is what heaven is. this is perfection." All my cares drop away, all the work not-yet-done, all the money not yet saved. It all goes away.
And there's just you and me and the afternoon. There's no where or when I'd rather be.
I love you, Sweetums. Your giant toothless smile, your already laid-back attitude. I love every single ounce of you.
I'm a few days late again, I hope you'll forgive me. It seems now I hate to do anything but squeeze very moment with you, and even writing this letter takes a back seat to our games of "head, shoulders, knees and toes" and peek-a-boo. So I'm up now, at 5 am to get this in - I truly wouldn't have it any other way.
You've been sick this last month. It's a cold it seems you just can't shake, but true to form, you have been smiling through your tears. It seems nothing can damped your spirit. I feel like it's my responsibility to to make sure that's always the case. I know the world will bring us a lot harder things to deal with than a cough and runny nose, but I'm determined to conquer them all. I think, together, you and I can do just about anything, honestly.
And that's the feeling I have now. That it's you and I. You're such your own person now. You're a spitfire, that's for sure. And as weird as it is to say out loud, one of my best friends. I feel like we've just met (and, well we have) and yet, you've always been here. I forget what it was like before you. Before I woke every morning with a smile. Before I laughed every night while dancing. There were days before all this, I know it, but they've slipped away. Their stresses and worries and joys all fade in comparison to what life is like now.
It's just 6 months, but it might as well have been a lifetime.
Every thing means more to me now. Every decision I make carries more weight, every smile contains more joy. My whole world is better because of you. It's harder too, of course. I'm exhausted all the time now. I run behind the lists of "do's" like a dog behind a speeding car. But it's okay. It's all okay.
You can say "mama." You giggle sometimes for no reason. You have this smile, when you're really happy where you open your mouth so big it looks like your about to laugh, but the sound is just too much. Your eyes crinkle up to little half-moons when you're pleased with something. You sing with me as we walk home down the street... you give me so many reasons to keep going. To be happy myself.
And as much as I hate that you're in daycare, you seem to be enjoying it. I still cry every day I leave you, walking to the train. But they care well for you there and you're making friends. Of course you're making friends. Miss Rochelle tells all about what you do every day when I arrive after work, and it's been fun to hear about you from someone else. It's like this golden slice of perspective. She confirms every thing we already know - that you're empathetic. You hate to hear the other babies cry. You're sociable, you won't go into the "quiet room" to sleep, but have to be out where you can see people. And you're anxious to be "bigger." You love going into the toddler room to watch them, to play with them.
I know you can see what's coming, and you can't wait to get there. I see the sparkle in your eyes when you manage a step or two, or when you make some little sound I interpret correctly. You're so ready to grow bigger, be stronger - be older, somehow.
And as much as I love watching you conquer every little step. As much as I love seeing you strive constantly for what you want (oh, how I love your determination!) I am still looking for the "pause" button every once in a while. These days with you, this time you and I share, are only getting shorter. They're only getting more rare. I know the days to come will only get better, of course. But sometimes, when you're cuddled up in my arms talking to me in your sleep I think - "this. this is what heaven is. this is perfection." All my cares drop away, all the work not-yet-done, all the money not yet saved. It all goes away.
And there's just you and me and the afternoon. There's no where or when I'd rather be.
I love you, Sweetums. Your giant toothless smile, your already laid-back attitude. I love every single ounce of you.
Thank you, my darling daughter, for loving me.
Your mama
Your mama
Grub'n!
First solid food!!!! Homemade rice cereal.
First spoonfull!
YUM!
Eating is fun
Big girl spoon
When's dessert!
First spoonfull!
YUM!
Eating is fun
Big girl spoon
When's dessert!Saturday, February 07, 2009
Love - 'cause Emily asked me to
1. I love my lil family. We're a little crazy, a little unorthodox and a lot attached at the hip. I wouldn't change a thing.
2. I love my home. Oh sure. It's crazy small. We have two adults, a child on the verge of becoming mobile, one fish and a cat and yet it seems weirdly perfect for all of us to be in this 300 square foot space together.
3. I love wearing rings on my fingers. None of my old ones fit anymore, really, and I miss having hands-full.
4. I love freshly-washed sheets.
5. I love new clothes, new haircuts, new shoes - anything that changes my appearance a bit and makes me feel new. This explains why I dye my hair every month or so.
6. I love a good book. Interesting, intricate - not too heavy. I haven't read a book in over six months - the longest I've gone in 25 years at least. I miss it.
7. I love riding in a car singing to music, watching the scenery fly by.
8. I love love love vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup. Throw in a brownie and I'm in heaven.
9. I love the sound of the ocean, the smell of orange blossoms and the feel of sand 'neath my feet.
10. Have I mentioned my lil fam? Because LORDY. My heart is full.
2. I love my home. Oh sure. It's crazy small. We have two adults, a child on the verge of becoming mobile, one fish and a cat and yet it seems weirdly perfect for all of us to be in this 300 square foot space together.
3. I love wearing rings on my fingers. None of my old ones fit anymore, really, and I miss having hands-full.
4. I love freshly-washed sheets.
5. I love new clothes, new haircuts, new shoes - anything that changes my appearance a bit and makes me feel new. This explains why I dye my hair every month or so.
6. I love a good book. Interesting, intricate - not too heavy. I haven't read a book in over six months - the longest I've gone in 25 years at least. I miss it.
7. I love riding in a car singing to music, watching the scenery fly by.
8. I love love love vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup. Throw in a brownie and I'm in heaven.
9. I love the sound of the ocean, the smell of orange blossoms and the feel of sand 'neath my feet.
10. Have I mentioned my lil fam? Because LORDY. My heart is full.
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