My very best friend introduced me to a wonderful poem by Margaret Atwood titled "Variation on the Word Sleep." I loved it so much I asked her to read it at my wedding, but my favorite line goes something like this:
"I would like to give the the silver branch, the small white flower, the one word that will protect you from the grief at the center of your dream, from the grief at the center. I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment only. I would like to be that unnoticed and that necessary."
Motherhood reminds me of something like this dichotomy. I want to protect my child from the world, yet I realize in time I must simply be the foundation upon which his independence took root--that unnoticed and yet that necessary. To do anything else is to disrupt what I fear is the delicate balance of life.
Another friend of mine recommended a book to help me struggle through the first few weeks of motherhood. I had what the modern day medical institution likes to term "baby blues" but what I would deem to be full on post partum depression mixed with "I have no idea what the hell I'm doing or what's going on" syndrome. The book is called A Life's Work: On Becoming a Mother by Rachel Cusk and it was momentous in helping me understand what I was going through was normal even though it felt about as far from normal as anything I've ever experienced. Motherhood in its infancy is messy and terrible, and this book does a pretty good job of highlighting some things you've thought about but never wanted to discuss: http://www.amazon.com/Lifes-Work-On-Becoming-Mother/dp/0312311303/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1384194412&sr=8-2&keywords=a+lifes+work
I've taken the liberty of highlighting some of the most powerful quotes that for me summed up everything in how I was feeling. I still can't say I'm over everything and running on all cylinders. I can however say I'm taking it day by day. I am better than I was and I continue to find balance in this new life. Some of the things she says in her book are horrible. They may even border on taboo in so much that she holds nothing back in her transition into parenthood and what it cost her. I can't say I haven't shared some of her thoughts...but these are the inner struggles of a very personal nature. I still wouldn't change anything.
"If parental love is the blueprint for all loves, it is also a re-enactment, a revision, an investigation of self-love. When I care for my child I revisit my own vulnerability, my primordial helplessness....Love is more respectable, more practical, more hardworking than I had ever suspected, but it lies close to the power to destroy."
--I am constantly shocked at the capacity of the human heart to love. Just when I feel like I can't possibly love my husband any more than I do I see him interact with our son and I love him all the more for being a wonderful father. The day my son came into this world my heart and the center of gravity of my world suddenly shifted to this tiny creature. It is exciting and frightening to think how much of me is wrapped into this cosmos of my family, but I wouldn't have it any other way.
"There is in truth no utterance that could express the magnitude of the change from woman or man to mother or father, and in the absence of definitive statement the subject becomes peopled with delusions and ghosts, with mis-apprehensions and exaggerations and underestimations, becomes separated from the general drift of human conversation, so that parenthood is not a transition but a defection, a political act."
--I constantly reflect on the change that happens when you become a parent. Suddenly the things that mattered so much before really have no bearing. You also become one of "them"--those individuals who seem obsessed with their children and that's all they can talk about. It isn't all of me, but it has become so much of me that to not talk about it is to not acknowledge the single most important shift in my life.
"Caring for him is like being responsible for the weather, for the grass growing: my privileged relationship with tie has changed, and though these tasks are not yet arduous they already constitute a sort of serfdom, a slavery, in that I am not free to go. It is a humbling change. It represents too a reckoning of my former freedom, my distance from duty. The harness of motherhood chafes my skin, and yet occasionally I find predictable integrity in it too, a freedom of a different sort: from complexity and choice and from reams of unscripted time upon which I used to write my days, bearing the burden of their authorship. It does not escape me that in this last sentiment I am walking over the grave of my sex. The state of motherhood speaks to my native fear of achievement."
"I couldn't spend a Saturday morning reading, that I couldn't stroll unfettered in the warmth of a summer's evening or go swimming or wander down to the pub for a drink. The loss of these things seemed a high, an exorbitant price to pay for the privilege of motherhood; and though much was given back to me in the form of my daughter it was not payment in kind nor even in a different coin, was not in fact recompense of any sort."
--I can't say this prison of my own making isn't uncomfortable. It's like trying on a new skin and realizing nothing about you is the same. The ups are new types of up while the downs are the deepest darkest recesses of hell. Labor and delivery constitute a test of which when passed only charges you head on into a new and complex existence that you aren't prepared for. Nothing prepares you for this.
"I know it is the hardest work I have ever done I worry that my execution of it has been somehow flawed and unauthentic, a burned offering, a botched canvas. Perhaps it is only children who confer upon their parents this meaning I feel myself to lack...I vow to own my feelings of inadequacy and in authenticity. I vow to end this succession, this history of ruler and ruled, here with me."
--The intense primal desire to do well, to have an impact on this precious life and so to give your life meaning is the reason for continuing. These variations on motherhood are the paint that fleshes out the canvas of our existence. Without these depths we are nothing. But they are terrifying in the light of one's internal reflection. I have only begun the great work of shaping not only my son's life, but striving to understand my own.
Denora
Monday, November 11, 2013
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
The Seasons Change
It's been five weeks since I gave birth to my son.
It's amazing how much things can change in even five weeks. I look outside and the leaves are changing and falling from the trees. The temperature has noticeably fallen and there is a distinct smell of autumn in the air whenever you walk outside. The squirrels are constantly eating and storing up for what I'm guessing is going to be a cold winter. In my mind I remember all the way back to January when I first learned I was pregnant and think...where did this year go? I spent the entire summer as big as a house and now here we are. This leads me to the next lesson along the path--seasons change.
My last post wasn't very sunny. I've been working through the intense emotions that come with leaving a seven year career and becoming a stay-at-home mom, not to mention the marathon that is pregnancy and delivery and new motherhood. I am horribly sleep deprived and on the steepest learning curve of my life trying to navigate the needs of this new life in my arms. There are days where I resent my decisions, not because they are bad but because in a way this feels like voluntary imprisonment and insanity. There are moments that make up for all of it--when my little one smiles at me and giggles it makes all of the craziness seem worth it. My point is I'm a work in progress. This life I'm building is some massive construction site and the bricks and mortar are laying everywhere. But the seasons are changing. I realized yesterday as I took my first jog around my block ever so slowly that my body despite being bent all kinds of ways is still healthy and strong. It's going to take a hell of a lot of work to get me back to where I was pre-baby and I may not even get there. The days of being (relatively) effortlessly in shape may be behind me. But this is the new season of my life as a mother. I read a very sobering article on post partum body image here: http://www.lalecheleague.org/nb/nbsepoct00p156.html
The same goes for the stay-at-home part. I read a fantastic article on that here: http://themattwalshblog.com/2013/10/09/youre-a-stay-at-home-mom-what-do-you-do-all-day/
It helps me put these things into perspective when I stop thinking about all the things I gave up to stop working and think instead on all the things I'm gaining by being with my little one every day. I don't have to pay for daycare sure, but I also don't have to agonize over someone else raising my child and me only getting time with him on weekends. I realize everyday that the little signals he gives to let me know he needs something are his own language, and I can care for him better because I recognize it. I also think of the bonds we're building and I am crazy thankful everyday that my husband is hard working and loves his family and I can raise our kids.
These are the seasons of my life. They constantly change. But I'm getting slowly better at being OK with that.
Denora
It's amazing how much things can change in even five weeks. I look outside and the leaves are changing and falling from the trees. The temperature has noticeably fallen and there is a distinct smell of autumn in the air whenever you walk outside. The squirrels are constantly eating and storing up for what I'm guessing is going to be a cold winter. In my mind I remember all the way back to January when I first learned I was pregnant and think...where did this year go? I spent the entire summer as big as a house and now here we are. This leads me to the next lesson along the path--seasons change.
My last post wasn't very sunny. I've been working through the intense emotions that come with leaving a seven year career and becoming a stay-at-home mom, not to mention the marathon that is pregnancy and delivery and new motherhood. I am horribly sleep deprived and on the steepest learning curve of my life trying to navigate the needs of this new life in my arms. There are days where I resent my decisions, not because they are bad but because in a way this feels like voluntary imprisonment and insanity. There are moments that make up for all of it--when my little one smiles at me and giggles it makes all of the craziness seem worth it. My point is I'm a work in progress. This life I'm building is some massive construction site and the bricks and mortar are laying everywhere. But the seasons are changing. I realized yesterday as I took my first jog around my block ever so slowly that my body despite being bent all kinds of ways is still healthy and strong. It's going to take a hell of a lot of work to get me back to where I was pre-baby and I may not even get there. The days of being (relatively) effortlessly in shape may be behind me. But this is the new season of my life as a mother. I read a very sobering article on post partum body image here: http://www.lalecheleague.org/nb/nbsepoct00p156.html
The same goes for the stay-at-home part. I read a fantastic article on that here: http://themattwalshblog.com/2013/10/09/youre-a-stay-at-home-mom-what-do-you-do-all-day/
It helps me put these things into perspective when I stop thinking about all the things I gave up to stop working and think instead on all the things I'm gaining by being with my little one every day. I don't have to pay for daycare sure, but I also don't have to agonize over someone else raising my child and me only getting time with him on weekends. I realize everyday that the little signals he gives to let me know he needs something are his own language, and I can care for him better because I recognize it. I also think of the bonds we're building and I am crazy thankful everyday that my husband is hard working and loves his family and I can raise our kids.
These are the seasons of my life. They constantly change. But I'm getting slowly better at being OK with that.
Denora
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
The Untold Story
I wrote quite a bit during my pregnancy because for me it marked one of the most influential and amazing periods of my life. To this day I still marvel that my body was able to grow another living human and bring him successfully into the world.
Today I'm going to write on a bit of a darker topic. This by no means diminishes the joy and love I feel when I hold my son in my arms, but there are things that need to be said because I feel we as a society don't talk about certain topics or we brush over them and minimize their effect--then we wonder why so many people dance the line of suicide or worse. I'm writing as a way to cope with my own inner dialogue, and hopefully my words ring true enough to help someone in the future either talk to a friend or manage their own inner dialogue.
The first thing I want to address, and something we don't talk about is labor and delivery of humans. Women in America are exposed to an over-dramatized idea of what labor is like, how long it takes, and how painful it is--driving the majority of them to seek some sort of external pain management either through an epidural or by c-section. I have my own feelings about the ability of a woman's body to do something it has done without medical intervention for millenia, but for the sake of keeping this simple I will just limit it to saying I gave birth naturally with no medical intervention. I was very blessed to have an outstanding birth team (both midwives and my doula) and I labored for thirteen hours with my son. No one tells you how excruciating, frightening, wonderful, and empowering this experience can be. Women no longer tell you the empowerment behind birthing another soul because they are so afraid of the process and hospitals have capitalized on continuing to feed that fear. In the throws of labor a woman meets her maker and finds out the absolute limits of her body. It is a terrifying experience and one that leaves you scarred, but also gives you the most satisfying sense of accomplishment. In the end though you are reduced to a shaking, sweating, painful mess no matter how you give birth. This rite of initiation into motherhood is just the beginning.
The next thing I want to address is the aftermath. They say that "baby blues" are the normal fallout following childbirth as your system fights to regulate the cocktail of hormones that flowed through you both during pregnancy and labor. People come and go, bring you food, hold your baby, offer to cook for you and help you clean, and you are an emotional mess. You are ridiculously in love with this small human, and yet your body is now inextricably tied to its survival. You cry for no reason, you just want to be by yourself, you hate the changes in your body, and you are now a slave to this lifestyle. You don't sleep, you can't have sex, and despite your best efforts sometimes the baby just cries and cries. You have lost yourself in the folds of this new life. It feels like you're drowning. If this goes on for too long it's labeled as depression and people become uncomfortable. They want you to seek medical help.
No one tells you these things when you become pregnant or before. Well, I'm putting these things out there. My life is forever changed. I am grateful beyond measure, but stop minimizing my experiences to Hollywood versions of labor and shining happy parenthood afterwards. I feel like there are many women who go through this and not enough resources that don't involve psychologists and medication. When you are silently suffering on the inside the last thing you want is to explain yourself to every person who asks how you're doing.
Denora
Today I'm going to write on a bit of a darker topic. This by no means diminishes the joy and love I feel when I hold my son in my arms, but there are things that need to be said because I feel we as a society don't talk about certain topics or we brush over them and minimize their effect--then we wonder why so many people dance the line of suicide or worse. I'm writing as a way to cope with my own inner dialogue, and hopefully my words ring true enough to help someone in the future either talk to a friend or manage their own inner dialogue.
The first thing I want to address, and something we don't talk about is labor and delivery of humans. Women in America are exposed to an over-dramatized idea of what labor is like, how long it takes, and how painful it is--driving the majority of them to seek some sort of external pain management either through an epidural or by c-section. I have my own feelings about the ability of a woman's body to do something it has done without medical intervention for millenia, but for the sake of keeping this simple I will just limit it to saying I gave birth naturally with no medical intervention. I was very blessed to have an outstanding birth team (both midwives and my doula) and I labored for thirteen hours with my son. No one tells you how excruciating, frightening, wonderful, and empowering this experience can be. Women no longer tell you the empowerment behind birthing another soul because they are so afraid of the process and hospitals have capitalized on continuing to feed that fear. In the throws of labor a woman meets her maker and finds out the absolute limits of her body. It is a terrifying experience and one that leaves you scarred, but also gives you the most satisfying sense of accomplishment. In the end though you are reduced to a shaking, sweating, painful mess no matter how you give birth. This rite of initiation into motherhood is just the beginning.
The next thing I want to address is the aftermath. They say that "baby blues" are the normal fallout following childbirth as your system fights to regulate the cocktail of hormones that flowed through you both during pregnancy and labor. People come and go, bring you food, hold your baby, offer to cook for you and help you clean, and you are an emotional mess. You are ridiculously in love with this small human, and yet your body is now inextricably tied to its survival. You cry for no reason, you just want to be by yourself, you hate the changes in your body, and you are now a slave to this lifestyle. You don't sleep, you can't have sex, and despite your best efforts sometimes the baby just cries and cries. You have lost yourself in the folds of this new life. It feels like you're drowning. If this goes on for too long it's labeled as depression and people become uncomfortable. They want you to seek medical help.
No one tells you these things when you become pregnant or before. Well, I'm putting these things out there. My life is forever changed. I am grateful beyond measure, but stop minimizing my experiences to Hollywood versions of labor and shining happy parenthood afterwards. I feel like there are many women who go through this and not enough resources that don't involve psychologists and medication. When you are silently suffering on the inside the last thing you want is to explain yourself to every person who asks how you're doing.
Denora
Friday, August 16, 2013
A Prayer for My Unborn Son
As the time of my imminent labor approaches the only word I can use to describe my state of mind is philosophical. The desire to want to do the right thing is so strong, which is odd because the "right thing" is a flexible concept at best.
The best I can come up with is this post on what I would say to my son if he were sitting in front of me and could understand the gravity of my love:
First of all I want you to embrace life. Not in a canned or standard "live life to the fullest" sentiment--but a full on soul scraping tumble with life as it comes. I want you to drink, and eat, and make love, and fight, and delve into the depths of your own existence until you have no choice but to embrace your broken humanity and choose to make something of it. Don't hobble through this life or "make due" just because it's easy. Join the Peace Corps, or the military, or sell all of your belongings and spend some time as a monk--but whatever you do please do it fully and without regret.
Honor. Honor thy mother and father, but also thyself and all living things placed upon this existence as they are reflections of the divine.
Play. Play to the fullest extent this life can offer. Roll and tumble and get dirty. Make something with your hands and appreciate the wonder that can only exist in the human imagination.
Love. Grapple with this concept every day of your life. What does it mean to love? What is unconditional love? How do we love, and how do we make sense of all our failings when it comes to loving ourselves and others? Understand that I love you more than I can express even though we've never met, and all I have is the feeling of you next to my heart. I will cherish you all the days of my life and I can only promise to teach you the things I have learned and hope to support you in your journey. I am honored you chose me to be your mother.
This is my prayer for you my son.
Blessings,
Denora
The best I can come up with is this post on what I would say to my son if he were sitting in front of me and could understand the gravity of my love:
First of all I want you to embrace life. Not in a canned or standard "live life to the fullest" sentiment--but a full on soul scraping tumble with life as it comes. I want you to drink, and eat, and make love, and fight, and delve into the depths of your own existence until you have no choice but to embrace your broken humanity and choose to make something of it. Don't hobble through this life or "make due" just because it's easy. Join the Peace Corps, or the military, or sell all of your belongings and spend some time as a monk--but whatever you do please do it fully and without regret.
Honor. Honor thy mother and father, but also thyself and all living things placed upon this existence as they are reflections of the divine.
Play. Play to the fullest extent this life can offer. Roll and tumble and get dirty. Make something with your hands and appreciate the wonder that can only exist in the human imagination.
Love. Grapple with this concept every day of your life. What does it mean to love? What is unconditional love? How do we love, and how do we make sense of all our failings when it comes to loving ourselves and others? Understand that I love you more than I can express even though we've never met, and all I have is the feeling of you next to my heart. I will cherish you all the days of my life and I can only promise to teach you the things I have learned and hope to support you in your journey. I am honored you chose me to be your mother.
This is my prayer for you my son.
Blessings,
Denora
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Claiming Your Power (Recognizing Your Divine Right)
In a world where we are constantly bombarded with expectations, it can be difficult to remember one key point: We are not just physical beings inhabiting this physical space. We are in fact spiritual beings temporarily inhabiting this physical space for a purpose. This often gets lost in the minutiae of everyday existence.
I learned a very important lesson today that boils down to recognizing your divinity. This comes in a variety of forms, but one of the most basic involves the divine right to love and respect. All beings in this existence have this right, though the concepts and how to apply them are muddled way too often. Additionally, it can be difficult to remember this goes both ways. Love and respect are not something to be earned--they are not arbitrary objects to be quantified or subjectively given. They are universal concepts to be applied to every living thing in every situation, regardless of differences of opinion.
This is the first step in recognizing your divinity. And it is a powerful lesson to remember when you feel powerless or defenseless.
Blessings,
Denora
I learned a very important lesson today that boils down to recognizing your divinity. This comes in a variety of forms, but one of the most basic involves the divine right to love and respect. All beings in this existence have this right, though the concepts and how to apply them are muddled way too often. Additionally, it can be difficult to remember this goes both ways. Love and respect are not something to be earned--they are not arbitrary objects to be quantified or subjectively given. They are universal concepts to be applied to every living thing in every situation, regardless of differences of opinion.
This is the first step in recognizing your divinity. And it is a powerful lesson to remember when you feel powerless or defenseless.
Blessings,
Denora
Monday, July 29, 2013
The Clearing
Today I out-processed from both my unit and active duty.
A momentous decision, and one that comes with extreme excitement for the future with just a tinge of trepidation. I can only compare the feeling to slowly walking to the edge of a cliff, looking down, and then closing your eyes and jumping with full abandon into the unknown.
Not completely unknown...I start classes again in January and I managed to find what promises to be an interesting job with the Pennsylvania Air National Guard. These things help ground me and remind me of the connections I have built and continue to cultivate. In the end I am eager for the next chapter in my life with my new family and new horizons. Let the adventure begin!
Bright Blessings,
Denora
A momentous decision, and one that comes with extreme excitement for the future with just a tinge of trepidation. I can only compare the feeling to slowly walking to the edge of a cliff, looking down, and then closing your eyes and jumping with full abandon into the unknown.
Not completely unknown...I start classes again in January and I managed to find what promises to be an interesting job with the Pennsylvania Air National Guard. These things help ground me and remind me of the connections I have built and continue to cultivate. In the end I am eager for the next chapter in my life with my new family and new horizons. Let the adventure begin!
Bright Blessings,
Denora
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Through the Forest...
Time has a way of changing perspectives, and life has a way of changing depending on which perspective you are using. If you had told me a year ago that I would be purchasing a home, having a baby, and separating from the Air Force I probably would have laughed at the thought--but perspectives change.
My separation package has gone all the way through AFPC. I have orders in hand. And I am completely at a loss as to what my life will entail come 1 August 2013. My first reaction was fear--fear of not having income, fear of not having the Air Force to fall back on for so many things; the foremost being a sense of purpose and of identity. When you serve your country even for a short amount of time there is a shift that occurs in your mentality. You have become a brother or sister in arms and so much of who you are becomes engrained with the uniform. I can appreciate the identity crisis that occurs in folks who have done 20 years or more. Half of your life has been lived serving and now you are free. What do you do after that? Where do you go? I haven't served for 20 years, but I have served long enough that my professional identity is that of an Air Force officer...I don't know anything else.
You have to look in the mirror and begin to focus on who you are outside of the military. I am a seminary student. I am a soon-to-be mother. I am a wife. A daughter. A friend. I have a home and I have two hands and will develop a new identity as time goes by. I will always cherish the time I served. I am thankful to have had the opportunity and for all the amazing people and places I've been. But there is a new chapter in my life that is beginning. I'm excited for the possibilities to come. I want to start my own business. I need to finish my degree so I can begin helping others in a new way. We think the path is always so clear in the moment...what happens when you hit the forest?
Blessings,
Denora
My separation package has gone all the way through AFPC. I have orders in hand. And I am completely at a loss as to what my life will entail come 1 August 2013. My first reaction was fear--fear of not having income, fear of not having the Air Force to fall back on for so many things; the foremost being a sense of purpose and of identity. When you serve your country even for a short amount of time there is a shift that occurs in your mentality. You have become a brother or sister in arms and so much of who you are becomes engrained with the uniform. I can appreciate the identity crisis that occurs in folks who have done 20 years or more. Half of your life has been lived serving and now you are free. What do you do after that? Where do you go? I haven't served for 20 years, but I have served long enough that my professional identity is that of an Air Force officer...I don't know anything else.
You have to look in the mirror and begin to focus on who you are outside of the military. I am a seminary student. I am a soon-to-be mother. I am a wife. A daughter. A friend. I have a home and I have two hands and will develop a new identity as time goes by. I will always cherish the time I served. I am thankful to have had the opportunity and for all the amazing people and places I've been. But there is a new chapter in my life that is beginning. I'm excited for the possibilities to come. I want to start my own business. I need to finish my degree so I can begin helping others in a new way. We think the path is always so clear in the moment...what happens when you hit the forest?
Blessings,
Denora
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