Struggle

No, this isn't a post about me struggling (yay!). It's a post about letting go of struggle. Because sometimes it seems that I live to struggle...that struggle becomes an obstacle course with a clear winner at the end...The Best Struggler!
But I wanted to write about letting go of struggle...of not really catering to my propensity to struggle.

Or maybe I just want to point out, for this moment, I'm not struggling. I am sleeping. I am eating. I see a few friends when I can manage it. I'm enjoying motherhood. I have read a few books and finished them and they were FICTION (note: I rarely read fiction, but I find that I am enjoying it at the moment).

I know that parenting is a practice in letting go, lowering expectations, and living in the present moment, and I also want to include that it doesn't have to be a struggle. Living in the present moment is really helpful when sometimes I want to live in the absolutes (never, always, etc)...K is sleeping now, which doesn't mean it won't change, but for now, it's working. It will change. It has changed. And in the present moment, I am enjoying it. But I don't have to hang out with the thought, "It'll never last!" (There's that 'never' I mentioned earlier). Of course it won't last, but right now it's good, and I want to say, I see you, good moment, and I can sit with that.

Sometimes I feel like I attract struggle to prove things: my strength, patience, ability, tolerance. But do I continue to need struggle to continue to "prove?" What if I just accept that I AM those things, and I don't need to struggle to offer proof to myself (or others)? Hmm. Interesting.

Okay, just wanted to share...

In my other life...

In my other life I am a budding industrial designer
I wear stylish glasses, have more than one pair
I sit around a table, thinking up ideas, playing with cardboard mock-ups

In my other life, I am on a book tour
People think I am funny and pay me to make them laugh
I am witty and respected

In my other life, my clothing is designed by an artist friend
My curves are appropriately accented, my cleavage isn't accidental
My colorful shoes are comfortable and stylish, but not bought on clearance

In my other life, I have a small house,
One that is sustainably efficient, clean and comfortable
There are no dust bunnies, no unfinished parts, no long remodels

My other life pays bills on time, gives money to charity
I take my husband out for dinner, without a second thought
I help a friend in need, I'm out of debt

In my other life, my passport is full
I speak multiple languages well, with the right winks and nods for each country
I know my wines and cheeses, I fit right in

In my other life, I fantasize about the life I live right now.

Dear Mama (if K could blog...)

Dear Mama,

I know that whenever you want me to say "ma-ma," I always say "da-da." Don't feel bad. I'm doing that because I know it means a lot to papa (I'm working on my "p's") and I already get and give so much attention from/with you, that I wanted to make him feel special too. Don't worry, "ma-ma" is coming and I imagine it won't be too soon...

I know that you are hurting...there are a lot of things going on, and I just keep growing and growing because I can't slow down. But there are so many things to do, learn, grab, slobber on, and cry about. I can't take it all in. I get that from you...the world is so big and I'm so small, will I get to taste, feel, love it all? Will you help?

You've been telling everyone that we're no longer nursing and I know that you are sad about it. And I know that you are worried that it's not okay. But like everyone said, I'm doing really well and just because I no longer have mama milk, doesn't mean anything has really changed between us. I still want to cuddle, I still want you to pick me up, I still love to see you in the morning. You're my mama! Nothing changes that.

You are conscious and awake and you are present to what's going on with me and that's all I want. You listen and worry and wonder and appreciate. Those are the things that come from you forever...milk was only ever a passing thing.

I came to you because we are going to teach each other about love...and that will happen with every experience we have from crazy diaper changes to late nights to walks to the park to late night drives to get papa. The journey has only just begun and you are already an amazing mama. I am so lucky.

I love you,

Kalev

What about NOT letting go?

Of course, the blog is about letting go, but should I exclude the idea of not letting go of some things? Maybe not.

With motherhood and parenthood comes excruciating amounts of cutting, severing, allowing, releasing, forgiving, forgetting, surrendering, and more. But in order to not fly away with the wind, I gotta hold on to SOME things, right?

Like what?

I don't know. I just started writing this entry because I feared that I was starting to let go of too much, too soon and then I was also thinking that I wouldn't be able to hold on to anything.

I'm learning that letting go is not an absolute activity. I don't just all of a sudden release, forget, and move on. In fact, letting go is more like a spectrum...what I let go of, how fast it happens, if I try to hold on again, etc., is all a part of the process. If I love something, let it go, and then it comes back, can I hold on again? Or is it just simply a letting out the string of my kite, letting it catch the wind, reeling it in when the wind dies down and then trying again?

Many a song talks about nothing being forever...which is super pessimistic, right? I don't like to think like that. I like to reframe that idea to allow that things just ebb and flow, they come close, then wander off, they hang around in the foreground, then fade to the background when it's time.

Just wanted to allow the parts of me who like to hang on, to be what they are. Not everything can be peacefully let go of. And that's okay too.

Dear K,

Tiny Baby,
I usually write to you more privately. I usually tell you what unique to you things you are doing so when you are bored at age 17, wondering what the hell mom and dad were like (by then you'll likely stop calling us mama and papa) and what you were like (I know, my tenses are horrible...but it's hard to talk to you in the future...), you have a record.
But today, I am writing more publicly. Because this part of our/my journey has been more public.
And part of the purpose of this blog (most of the purpose, actually), is to write about and be conscious about letting go as I move through motherhood.
So here it is.
You are nine months and about three weeks (we can call it 10 months). I was aiming to breastfeed you until you were at least 12 months old. It was a goal I heard from other mamas and I figured it was good enough for me. I have a very, very supportive community, with lots of resources, ideas, milk, education, and positive encouragement. I was going to kick breastfeeding's ass (hmm. Interesting choice of words).
Early on, when you were losing weight (ack!), we started giving you formula. We were warned, but honestly, at the time, I did not care about anything but you gaining weight. I didn't think you were too small, but I also didn't like that you cried for more milk after every feeding and I didn't seem to have any more for you. Heartbreaking is an understatement. I also didn't like thinking that you might not be getting enough food. Not what this mama wanted to hear.
So we gave you 1/2 formula and 1/2 mama milk. You gained weight and it was better. My milk supply went down a bit when I went back to work, as we supplemented with a bit more formula. I wasn't able to breastfeed you during work (a dream I thought I could manage, but it was unrealistic). I was severely sleep-deprived, but I kept on pumping at work, feeding at night, and doing whatever I could do. I talked to moms, lactation consultants, the Dr., the midwives, my family, and I read websites, books, made cookies, took hot showers, pumped the majority of my time at work, took supplements, got milk donations, drank water, drank special tea, and kept a positive attitude.
But, Sweet Pea, after just now reading about another mama wanting to re-lactate (her milk dried up and mine is too, so I started reading voraciously in case I  missed something...), I realized I am at a crossroads (a common theme running through motherhood for me...) and I have to make a choice. Hopefully, you'll agree, a conscious choice. I have to weigh the benefit of continuing to try to make more milk and the peaceful release of the expectation (set up by me mostly, and some shame I feel at the idea that I might be "giving up too soon.") to keep making milk. They both stress me out a little (a lot?). If I stop, am I ruining your chances of immunity? If I don't stop, am I stressing myself out so much that I don't have immunity for my own body? And will other mamas look at me as a quitter? (No, they won't, but you can't tell me that sometimes, because I always believe they do...which is horribly inaccurate, I know) Will you throw it back in my face if you get some god-awful thing that could only be prevented by breastmilk? Is there such a thing? Will you be sad that we didn't share this bonding ritual for two more months? Will you be jealous of your friends who got to self-wean? Are you even registering this dilemma at the moment?

This is why this is so hard and only one of the decisions I have to make in the course of your/our lifetime. It sucks, honestly. I feel like a sad-sack when I pump and get .25 oz from about 40 minutes total of pumping per day. And woe is me, that I'm not a big "producer" as if you think less of me because of my milk output. I know, that's not giving you enough credit.

So instead of saying I stopped breastfeeding because of my milk production, (that feels like I am giving my power away and placing blame and it just doesn't feel completely true in its simplicity), I want to say to you and everyone else, that I am choosing to care for myself, my emotional and physical fragility, my body, and my sanity (and ultimately you) and that's why we're stopping.

You are not crying and reaching for me, I am not spending less time with you, you are not hungry, you are not malnourished. When I leave my pump at home, I feel lighter. I know, that even in your non-verbal-ness, you are okay with this. I am the one holding on and not you. (We'll verify this later). I know that when you get older, you will likely say, "Hey Mama, please don't let me and what you think are my expectations of you, hold you back. That's not why I came to you. I came to you to help you let go, to be free, and to teach you to soar." Just like I took the drugs for hyperemesis because I wanted to feel better and to love being pregnant (rather than soldiering on--which might have been way more detrimental to both of our bodies), this is like that. I am stopping breastfeeding because we can move on to other ways to bond, other ways to share, and other ways to nourish. We have a lot to teach each other Little One, don't we?

So there is no big ceremony. The grandest gesture I know is to write. And your grandest gesture is to smile that killer smile of yours...so I will let go and let those be our moments as we continue on...and I won't hang my hat--or yours--on milk or the right diapers/food/toys/books or being perfect or knowing all the answers. You release me and I trust you enough to let go...

Those pesky expectations

As a newer (admitted) extrovert (I used to be a really social introvert), socializing is a big deal to me. Not just at parties, but seeing other people live their lives, tell their truth, etc. For those who know me, it's a complicated, big deal.

When one has kids, things change. If I had a nickel every time I heard this...

When I had a kid, things (expectations, specifically) indeed changed. And got more complicated. I feel pretty vulnerable right now talking about how I socialize, because those I socialize with (or don't socialize with, as the case may be) are pretty much the bulk of this blog's audience. So I'm "reporting on" but also "talking to" this group. See? Already too complicated.

But being vulnerable is a part of letting go. I know that in the deepest of places. If I can't say stuff out loud to myself and at least one other person it's like one hand clapping in a forest where no one can hear it.

So back to when I used to be an introvert... Introversion is not about being anti-social, which I have never really been. It's about where I get/got my energy. Do I feel more energized with people or on my own? For a long time, I felt more energized on my own. My rules, my food, my space, my clothes, my time. A lot of "mine." I used to have one chair facing the TV in my one bedroom apartment until a dear friend told me that that's no way to attract a partner. Hmm. Conflict arose in the concept that with all the "mine" there was no one to share it with. Huh.

I also, by nature (or was it nurture?), am someone who is capable of helping people out. And way back when, I think I did this a lot, or some might say, too much. Helping people out is innocent enough, but for an introvert, it's not as fulfilling as it sounds. In fact, I think I may have wanted to help so that when I was alone, thinking about my life, etc., I wouldn't seem like an asshole. God forbid. It's not that I helped people insincerely, it's that it wasn't exactly what fed me. But how I felt about myself fed me, so it worked.

Until it didn't.

Shortly after the single chair moved out and a couch moved into to the aforementioned apartment, "mine" started getting boring. But this is where it got complicated. I liked helping, but not too much. I liked people, but only until they wanted something I didn't want to give. So the math was something like this: If I help people they will take all the energy I have, leaving me spent and angry. If I don't help people, I will be, and feel like, an asshole. And "mine" is now boring. And I'll probably also end up spent and angry from my own doing. Ack!

Enter the estranged boundaries. I wanted to put them in quotes, but I don't want to poke fun at them. Boundaries were like a cool distant cousin, who dressed well, liked the cool, hip music, and didn't care what people thought of her. Man, did I want to be like that cousin! But I had no idea what to do with boundaries. They felt gangly and awkward. Like I was trying on a smokin' hot dress for a college student's body, as a 10 year old. Double ack.

I started hanging around people who had boundaries (also known as therapists and those IN therapy) and while things still looked insanely awkward, I also saw that these people still had friends, did not vanish in a puff of smoke, and seemed to have self-esteem. Victory!

And here is where these worlds collide...so now I'm a mom, with a much better handle on boundaries, and to the naked eye, I might still seem like an asshole. But trust me, my lack of socializing isn't personal. Some days, even though I am home, "doing nothing," I am really just storing up some alone time. Or I am being more honest with myself when I say to myself, "You know, it's okay to not do or go or plan right now."

It can also be heart-breaking...I know I miss many of my friends. And some friends have complained that my lack of time for them is becoming detrimental to our relationship. And I lie awake at night stewing about this...because that was never my intent, but I just don't feel the same about socializing like I used to. I have my built-in social group, who share my house with me, and when they are gone or asleep, I get some breathing room. I need breathing room. Now more than before. So it's a dance and one I'm still awkwardly navigating. When hubby is gone for the night, sometimes with the car, sometimes not, I am constantly weighing the pros and cons of interaction. Some days going out wins, some days, it loses, and I eat grilled cheese and watch tv. When I stay in, K gets better sleep because I am focused on his cues. When I go out, sometimes, it's more important that I get some attention, rather than K. I'm still looking for his cues, mind you, but I'm just not ignoring my own.

I have a hard time explaining this sometimes. But overall, I just need to learn to let go of my expectations of myself and not expect others to let go of theirs. I can't blame others for missing me. And for being angry that I'm not more mobile, willing, available, sans baby, etc. Hopefully our friendships will endure and things will change (working on getting a second car is top of the list, FYI) and we will hang out more often, once more. Until then, don't write me off. I still love you dearly.

I don't want to write about this

Because I don't want it to be true...

One of the hardest things to let go of, is couplehood. I have to say, I've REALLY enjoyed being in a relationship, being  married, being a couple. I like saying "we," I like having things in common with my spouse, I like hearing what hubby has to say. I like the cuddle (actually, we've coined a phrase: huggle), I like the hanging out together, the reflecting together, the errand running, the everything.

And with another person in the mix, the couple becomes a triple. And an unequal triple. In fact, I think of it like a molecule (bare with me, chemistry was NOT my strong suit) with three atoms, two being more stable than the third, but either of the adult two can help the younger third become more stable and sometimes the three of them can be stable together, but sometimes (most times?) not. Because the third atom is young and volatile. One day they will all be more stable (hopefully), but for now, that's a tough standard to uphold.

Frankly, I'm not doing very well at letting go of couplehood. In fact, I don't want to let it go. So really, 1 and 1 and 1 make two and also make three, in addition to making four and five. There are a lot of combinations (math, also not a strong suit) that we can be now. I guess I didn't look at it from all the angles. I just thought we'd be a team and leave it at that. I also imagined an 8 year old child and forgot to imagine ALL the other ages.

Many people tried to scare me (and did so successfully) regarding my marriage and a new baby. But, and I might be in the minority, I want to keep working on the couple part too. Baby K needs to see that our relationship is not JUST in service to his well-being. It's in service to the whole family and the individuals. So, yeah, I won't be letting it go, I'll just be letting go of trying to make it exactly how it was before and instead working on improving it with its new components.

I know the holding on will change and the couple will change too. Part of my spiritual inclination to be in a marriage was to catapult me beyond what I could do by myself. And so it goes that after we go as far as we can in a twosome, the additional person added into the mix will again catapult us to a different place. And I want that too. But this is just one of those "claw mark" moments...