Life and Death

I experienced life and death simultaneously. Not my own life or death, but the emotions of it as a witness, intimately connected with one person going through the journey of death and one person's new life and birth. My mother-in-law was dying and I was pregnant with my daughter.

I felt very alone in this unique experience. I tried to explain it and everything fell flat. Few truly understood. Intense joy and equally intense grief at the same time. Excitement and fear. Eager anticipation and dread.

I was frustrated because I could never fully be present with just one experience or the other. The other was always in the back of my mind, making it very confusing. I became very angry. By trying to attend to both, I felt like I was missing everything or failing at it all. While logically I knew I was asking myself to do the impossible- to uphold some perfect ideal of how I wanted to experience both situations, the frustration of it was fierce.

If all I do is allow the grief to flood me and if it consumes my thoughts, I will miss out on my pregnancy. If all I do is focus on the baby and planning and joy, I will miss out on these last moments and the attention and presence I wanted to give my mother-in-law. But to do it both at the same time was a daunting task. I didn't know how.

So I did my best. I switched off and on. Back and forth. When I was focused on one person, my entire focus was on them and I tuned everything out as well as I could. It was the best I could manage. I still have times though when my heart skips a beat and I feel a different loss. That I couldn't be there more for my mother-in-law. That I couldn't be there more for my baby and pregnancy.

One thing it taught me is how common and normal it is to experience two seemingly opposite emotions at the same time. While it might not be that common to experience the extremes that I went through, it's made me aware of how sometime I can feel happy and sad at the same time. Depression and sadness might be in the background. Or vice versa.

Whenever I felt buffeted by the uncontrollable ocean waves of death, I clung to joy and hope of the new life inside of me.

Then just days before my due date my husband's stepmother passed away unexpectedly.
So much death. Three family deaths during the pregnancy.
My grandmother, mother-in-law, and step mother-in-law.

A lack of control.
It was too much to process. Three deaths and an upcoming birth.
I felt a sudden shift. I became hyper-focused on the new life and birth only days away.

I wanted a natural delivery without medications for many reasons but after these deaths, that goal became even more important to me. Despite the physical pain, it was still life. It was pain with a purpose after witnessing pain without purpose-- or seemingly so. It was a way to feel my body healthy and vibrantly working the way it was designed. I viewed the pain as good and purposeful and better understood that pain doesn't have to equal fear.

Despite how painful labor was, it made me feel alive. There was some sort of reassurance in that. I was rooted in my physical self. It was painful but somehow it made me feel more alive.

While I clung to the pregnancy as a light of hope in the midst of what appeared dreary, over a year later I can also see how maybe the deaths prepared me for the "letting go" and trust that is required in labor and delivery of a baby. There was nothing I could do to stop the dying process- one loved one who died slowly and the other in a quick flash. That lack of control was difficult.


No amount of worrying changed it, no amount of research or talking about it, no amount of problem solving, no amount of denial. It was life playing out on its own. It's the same with labor. I did much better with "letting go", trusting my body, riding the wave of physical pain. The less I tightened my body and resisted it, the less pain I perceived. My labor mantras focused on this. My mind had to trust my body for a change.

Birth, life and death formed a perfect circle and had more commonalities than one would think. This might be because death is actually rebirth, a different kind of birth. A beginning instead of solely an end. Maybe birth on earth is an ending that we're unaware of.

*Quote taken from Ram Dass

Mom and toddler hurdles: Let emotions be

My daughter was whining and I was tuning it out, coffee in hand, on the couch. I was irritable. She was irritable. It was the day after vacation and it was an unpleasant post vacation day of unpacking, laundry, and getting back into the routine.

I started saying and doing things that might distract her from whining because I was already cranky and it was grating on my ears, only making me more irritable. I suggested this. Explained that. I was trying to make her happy. I did a lot of talking.

I realized then how absurd it was. I was cranky. Why couldn't she just be cranky? It didn't make sense to me because we had just had a really nice vacation but there it was. So I let it be.

I said, "I'm cranky and you're cranky."
That's it.
Let the emotion be.
Don't judge it or hide it or reprimand it or cover it up with superficiality.

So we were two crankys with a vacation hangover.

I learned two lessons.

1. Experiencing what it's like to ride the wave of an emotion instead of burying it.

2. Allowing my daughter to have a negative emotion and not becoming anxious over it.

Maybe the high of a good vacation is followed by an equivalent low.
Maybe emotions don't need to be controlled, no matter what the age. If given the chance, they make an appearance, pass through, and then dissipate.

The Value in Unmet Goals

You always hear about when people meet their goals, but rarely do you hear them talk about failed goals.

At the beginning of 2018 we decided to make a family goal of hiking 50 miles together as a family. Separate ventures were not included. All four of us had to be on the hike. My daughter decorated 50 popsicle sticks, each one representing a mile that would be placed in a jar after a hike.

We hiked 22 miles together as a family. Last spring was cold and rainy, making it difficult to take a toddler and baby on long walks and the summer was sweltering hot and humid,  many 95 plus degree days, once again, making it difficult with small children in tow. Most of those miles were achieved during the fall.

After making the goal we quickly learned that it would have been easier to achieve if we looked cumulatively at how many miles my husband took the girls in the running stroller and my walks with them while he was at work. However, the aspect of it being family time was important to us, and not just about achieving a high number. We also learned that uncontrollable factors (such as weather, unexpected life events etc) can easily affect goals or make them harder to grasp.

On New Years Day 2019, my four year old counted the popsicle sticks and I felt proud to think we had walked the equivalent distance of a northern suburb of our city to a southern suburb. I felt proud that we had even been mindful enough to set a goal like this when we had a five month old baby and that we stuck to tracking it, even when we realized come October that we wouldn't reach our number in mind.

I'm happy that this is something we do as a family and hope that my four-year-old learned something from it. Not just about setting goals. Not about achieving them. But rather about being intentional with your time, quality time, and being mindful of what you are doing. Counting the miles not only motivated us to hike more, but slowed my awareness that it's something we enjoy as a family and how many miles we went.

Sometimes the process or journey really is more inspiring than the destination.

The Facebook Guilt Slap

You know these, right? This was the most recent one I've seen on Facebook , but there are numerous others that are all one in the same.

How do you feel after reading that?

Honestly.

I just read:

Guilt. Guilt. Do More. Guilt. You're not spending enough time with your kids. Guilt. Guilt. Appreciate them more. Guilt. Love the sh!tty days. Ignore those "touched out" jitters. Guilt.

I'm sure not everyone reads it like this, but I also can't be the only one. Your toddler has been incessantly whining for over an hour about needing a snack ten minutes after you cleaned up breakfast, the baby just had her third blow out diaper by 11 am and your husband texted you he will be home late from work. You've given yourself a five minute time-out from the toddler by hiding in the shower and this heartwarming gushy quote appears in your Facebook feed.

GUILT SLAP

Better step out from behind the shower curtain and embrace the whining.

Okay, bitter rant is over. I had a sh!tty day so I decided it was good timing to tear this quote and all the similar ones to pieces.

I get the sentiment.

I totally get that I'll blink and my snack monster will be 18 and want little to do with me. I do savor what I can. I try to take snapshots in my head. I have a notebook by my bed where I try to write the cute things she says and does that I would never remember otherwise. I put my phone down and SEE them. So don't guilt me. Don't imply it's not enough. I heap enough guilt on myself without any outside help.

What the author of this quote doesn't get is that these little people are a huge part of my world. And if I don't take care of myself or set boundaries, I get lost, frazzled, and I can't enjoy them at all. So I actually find these guilt messages a bit dangerous. Especially if it's read by a mother suffering from depression or anxiety.

What I have found as a mostly Stay At Home Mom is that if I don't set limits or take breaks, I savor less. When I do take breaks, I enjoy my time with them that much more. So no, I'm not going to let my child jump into bed with me. That's my space and I need my sleep. And get this-- if I do let her jump into bed, as the quote says, it won't make me savor and appreciate this time more. It detracts from it.

And embrace the hard days? That's asking too much. Do you embrace your hard days at your outside the home job? I certainly hope not. I see it as progress if I can roll with the rough days.

I get it that when you're older, your kids are older, and you're not sleep deprived or dealing with a major meltdown in the Target checkout, that you get nostalgic. And you have hindsight--that this small child period is--in the grand scheme of things--short. But don't tell me that when I'm in it--when I've had a week straight of crappy days--because it's only human to crave a chunk of time to yourself. For peace. It's okay to not feel quite as loving toward the child who has been testing you all day.  That was your entire world that day.

Whoever wrote that quote can gladly come and watch my kids while I savor a glass of wine on my deck in peace.

Signing off as the mama who is not embracing this exhausting day, but is bracing herself for the next day by savoring sleeping kids.

Bearing witness to a toddler tsunami

I have a  delusion. It's a bit unconscious,  but it's always  humming in the  background  of my  mind. I  seem to  believe that you, the reader, and  lots of  other  readers have it all together.  That you have a  fairly  clean and organized  house at any  given time  and  to do lists are achievable. I am  always  competing  with you even though you are a fictional  character in my mind,  who by the way, is also fit, witty, and very sociable. I realize this is NOT based in reality.

I haven't found a good cleaning rhythm or schedule as a mother. It's not usually a trashed mess but also never seems completely clean or orderly. This frustrates me because I feel as though I'm in a constant state of cleaning and picking up, which I have found is the complete opposite of mindfulness and makes me feel very restless and irritated. I'm always in complete awe of the mothers who have found a way to keep up or at least appear to keep up. Perhaps this is some fantasy that I've just projected out there.

I hate picking up the toys, burp cloths, random clothes, blankets, and dirty socks off the floor because within a couple of hours it will look the same. So sometimes I don't.

I also despise dishes. For some reason I have it in my head that it's possible to have a clean picked up kitchen for more than 30 minutes  but I've come to the conclusion that that's only possible if I were to camp out and live in the kitchen.  I equally despise the restless irritable feelings I get when I am constantly picking and cleaning up. It's a vicious lose-lose circle for me. I've heard of some women who find it calming to pick up. It makes me irritable.

This morning a light bulb went off. I'm not sure why because on the surface it looked similar to probably 40% of my other mornings. The kitchen was a mess. Dishes crying for mercy. Aftermath of a war with splattered Ketchup in the sink. Rejected brown pears on toddler plates. Last night's pots and pans on the stove. I was behind.

I also had a toddler sprawled on the bathroom floor, upset after I had set a boundary 20 minutes prior. I was sitting on a toddler stepping stool in the bathroom while brainstorming how to handle this new phase of my three year old swatting away any comfort and yelling every time I calmly reflected her feelings. She was a burrowed turtle shell lying  on the shower rug. I decided to not touch her, but sit with her and verbally let her know if she needed something from me, I was there.

For some reason it hit me. That's why the kitchen is a mess and I can't keep up. I'm doing more important work at the moment. When she's angry and screaming and pushing me away, it would be much easier to go do the dishes. Dishes are actually much more appealing in that moment.

Granted, after a bit I let her know where I was going if she needed me and I began to tackle the kitchen because, well, it's a might balancing act. But for a good 20 minutes she needed me. Even though on the surface she was pushing me away, I sensed she needed me there, focused on her, even if only for a short time.

I found it affirming to myself. Dishes can't wait forever but they will be in a perpetual state of being behind. Can I let that go? Can I accept that? I'm  doing  important  work. Being a witness to her emotions, being present, being available, and reflecting her difficult emotions.

 As a therapist, I have seen many people struggling as adults from supressing and  bottling  their emotions, and no one accepting or bearing witness to them. So I realized how very important this moment was and to dig in, especially if  mentally and emotionally I felt I could handle it.

Which leads me to, sometimes I can't.

Admittedly there are times when I'm just not in a mental space to always be there for her emotionally and sometimes it's okay to ignore the tantrum and just go do the dishes. That's the challenge of parenting. There's no set guidelines to follow for every situation. It's  always in flux, with many shades of beige.

However, my mini epiphany was that I  saw what I was doing, in that moment, as valuable, and affirming myself for it. Like gosh, that was hard and I didn't do it perfect, but I did good and it was just as important as when I worked as a mental health therapist being present with an adult who is depressed. Personally, it's more important to me because it's my child.

Whether I  can mentally  and  emotionally  sit and bear  witness  or even if I  can't and I  leave the room to ignore the tantrum,  unconditional  acceptance of her emotions is probably the most important piece. This  involves  more than  just ignoring. I  let her know she has a right to her feelings  no matter  how  intense and  unpleasant, I  make sure she knows  where I am  if she needs me, and most importantly,  mentally  I let go and  just allow the  tantrum  to  run its course  (as long as no one is  getting  hurt).

While she needs  someone  present, it strikes me how a difficult  piece of  motherhood is how much is done without much acknowledgement because of the  nature of it. There is  no venting to a coworker  in the  office  next door  between the  hours of  9 and  5. Many tantrums you experience  alone, with no other  adults present.

While I  don't expect a pat on the  back  for every  hard thing I do (no matter what the job), mothering,  especially those hours your spouse isn't  home, can be lonely. Again,  it's part of the territory  but the affirmation and  acknowledgement is significantly  less than when I worked  outside of the home at a civilian job. I wonder if this  contributes to mothers' depression? It's easy to lose sight of what you're doing. Your world becomes smaller.

After a work meeting you might  process with a  colleague what you  said to Tonya during the meeting.  At home with a  toddler I can't  ask another adult,  was my tone too harsh when I scolded little Jonny? Am I off today? I have no witness for a good 40 hours a week.  And so, holding off on the dishes,  not only  helped my toddler but it helped me to slow down.

Slowing down.

Noticing  what I was doing.

Being mindful and aware of  myself.

Even if it's just to notice my own emotions.

I was able to witness what I was doing and affirm myself.