Home Again and Back

It is strange to come home as an adult.

Abraham and I are visited my parents and family in Florida last week. It is, of course, always good to see everyone, but the place doesn’t feel like home anymore. That’s a sure sign I’m an adult. My home is where I live with my husband and children.

My parents no longer live in the house I grew up in or even the house I lived in after college. I don’t have a room here; Abraham and I are sleeping on Noah’s (my little brother who lives at home) mattress on the floor. That’s a sure sign I’m an adult; there is no physical place for me here.

Many of my best friends have moved away, and some of them have returned or live close by. I visited with them, met their children, heard about their love lives. Sort of like high school, but Abraham gave me a 7pm curfew. I never had a curfew in high school.

We flew down with my sister, who visited but for less time than we did. We flew back alone. And I was sick (103• fever when I got back to my house…). How I lived I don’t know. But I have no shame after lying around with Abraham on the nasty floor of the Atlanta airport during our layover.

Since we’ve been back to our home, I’ve been sick. First strep throat and now a killer cold. All I really want is to be back home with my mom, watching soap operas with her, playing cards, using that weird wooden lap desk to catch up on school work, and drink-eating lipton tea from a packet. But I can’t go back. Even if I put myself in the place and did all the things, I can’t go back.

Natural

Abraham was recently pictured on Natural Parents’ Network on their Wordless Wednesdays feature about food. After he was pictured and I shared the link with my family and friends, I wondered to myself if I am actually a natural parent. What does that really mean?

There is a long list of what it means to be a natural parent on their website.

I prepared to have a natural birth at a birth center, but I found on my due date that Abraham was breech, so we had a c-section and it wasn’t so bad.

We went around and around about the decision, but we circumsized Abraham because we are Jewish and that heritage is important to us, even though we still wrestle with our choice.

I nurse Abraham and intend to as long as we both are enjoying it, but I also supplement his nursing with formula to keep him on the right weight track.

He sleeps with us, but I’m looking forward to getting would love to get him to sleep on his own so I can have a little space and time back to myself.

I fed him food at 4.5 months old (which is a bit early) but he was full-body-lunging for it. I also give him food that is not organic or local. Local is preferred, but the child loves avocados, which aren’t exactly native to Pennsylvania.

I have 3 different baby carriers, all of which I love to use, but damn, it is nice to push him in a stroller in this hot weather.

We are vaccinating Abraham on a regular schedule. We feel it is our responsibility to him and to our community to ensure that diseases that have died out stay gone.

What is most true is that I hate all of these parenting labels. They are shortcuts, sure, but they are also pegboards. I never have enjoyed being pegged (though I think I’m pretty predictably peg-able…) in any position, especially being a mother.

So that’s it. I’m a mother. I’m a step mother. Those describe my relationships to my kids. That is all. Every choice I make as either is not because I’m a natural parent, a free-range parent, a whatever parent. It is just because I’m a parent and I’m always trying to do the right thing for each of my kids.

Crafting Again

Hooray! I finally made something (besides a baby, that’s a pretty creative act)!

pocket/loop travel blanket for Abraham

I have several (like 50) projects bookmarked, many for baby, some for me or others, and I made this little blanket for Abraham. It turned out to be very cute, yet sophisticated (for a baby blanket…).

no, abraham is not reading Ibsen (his books are upstairs and i needed a stand in)

The tutorial is easy to follow if you want to make your own. It is basically a blanket with little pockets and loops around the edges. You can place books or whatever in the pockets and link toys to the loops. There are also velcro tabs that you can use to strangle Sophie the Giraffe.

We are traveling by plane to Pensacola in July to see the family, and I thought this would be handy to have to keep his things together. Practical, practical!

loopies!

PS – I used a baby blanket we had around the house for the back (it’s blue, I forgot to photograph it), 50% off fabric for the front of the blanket, and ribbon I had at home or bought with a coupon from the fabric store. So it was pretty thrifty too!

Eating is Yoga

So much of Abraham’s life has been so easy. He is adorable, happy, healthy, easy-going…I could go on. And I have found being a mother (not just a step-mother) to be quite easy too. I’m a little sleepy and a little slobbered-on, but I really can’t complain.

I keep rubbing up against his eating. I’ve written before about breast feeding him. I am still breastfeed him, and I intend to as long as he wants to (the WHO recommends 2 years!). We also give him bottles as a supplement, 8 or 10 ounces a day. I hate it. Every time I give him a bottle, I feel like I’m failing as a mother. Because I WANT to nurse him and I CAN’T. Because in 2003, I choose to have a breast reduction. It was badly needed and I don’t actually regret it. I just wish I could have both small boobs and milky boobs.

We went to the pediatrician today and Abraham is still small. Gaining weight and height, but a little too slowly. So more formula for him and solid food.

The food I’m excited about. He wants to eat – he sits on my lap at dinner and lunges toward the tables, reaches for my water glass, and of course puts everything, edible or not, into his mouth. I even shared my banana with him last night – he sort of licked it a while, then tried to suck. He yelped when it was finished.

He yelps when his bottles are finished too. He is hungry (how ironic that he is wearing his Very Hungry Caterpillar outfit today…”but he was still hungry”). He isn’t starving, but he wants more. And it is so hard for me to give it to him. Because every bottle feels like a failure.

I run to him when he cries from a nap, I kiss his tummy to make him laugh, I work so hard to give him a happy and comfortable life. Why can’t I enjoy feeding him a bottle?

David said to me, on our way home from the pediatrician’s office, “it doesn’t seem very yogic to not feed him” and I know it isn’t. It is selfish, it is my ego wrapped up in my identity as a breastfeed-er. I have met most of my mom friends at La Leche League for goodness sake.

I can still be a breastfeed-er and give my child a bottle or 3 to make sure he grows well. He will get the health benefits from breastmilk and breastfeeding and the caloric benefits from formula. I can snuggle him as he drinks his bottle and snap photos when he holds it himself.

How is this practicing yoga, you ask? Yoga is defined several times in the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali. My favorite sutra (literally thread, a piece of an idea) of late is 1.12: Abhyasa vairagyabhyam tan nirodhah – The mind is stilled by practice and dispassion.

Parenting, like yoga, is a practice. It is done uninterruptedly, with devotion, over a long time (sutra 1.14). My goal as a parent, especially to Abraham (versus the big kids where I am a secondary parent as their step-mom), is to be completely present for him and give him what he needs but then step back and let him fly. Giving him bottles is part of that.

And now I will wipe the tears out of my eyes and get a bottle ready for when he wakes up from his nap (to give him after he nurses of course).

so proud of his hand-to-mouth dexterity

ADDITION: Friends, don’t worry. I may feel like a failure of a mother inside, but I know he will be ok and I will be ok. It is a feeling and only a feeling. I appreciate your kind, private words of encouragement.

Things

I am overwhelmed.

Why did I think it would be a good idea to teach theatre, teach yoga, run a small religious school, and work on writing a play in the months after having a baby? Not to forget my family, the house, and myself. Oh dear.

Up until January 6, 2011 (when Abraham was born), I always kept myself very busy and did well. The busier the better, most of the time. I carefully packed my days with all the things I enjoyed.

I have not only added “Bio-mom” to my list of labels (because I was already a step-mom), but moved it way, way to the top of the list. I love it and wouldn’t trade it, but it is overwhelming. Abraham wants to be held when he is awake, and he wants to be nursing while he is asleep. So much touching. Which is what I wanted, but I didn’t realize how intense it would be.

In the short times that Abraham is not touching me, I am desperately doing things I can’t do with him: showering, laundry, dishes, working, yoga. Yoga comes last.

I am about to turn 30 (which I was thinking was making me an adult for real, but in fact, I think it is really young). I was feeling like I needed to do things I’ve been wanting to do: have a real job again (instead of 4 small ones), join boards, make a big difference. But I think what I am realizing is that I want fewer commitments now. I have time. Hopefully lots of time. I can get a real job when I’m 40 and still get to do it for a long time. I can join boards when I’m 50 and still serve my community for a long time. I can make a big difference when I’m 60 and still be younger than my friend Lane was when she joined the Peace Corps.

What has been my hurry? Why are we all in such a hurry?

I don’t anticipate having more children (sorry, Mom) because 3 is enough. But it means Abraham will be my only baby. Which is ok, babies are hard. But I don’t want to fret about his sleep because I need to do things during his nap time. I want to cuddle up and sniff his little head.

you can come cuddle with him too

Late/Early

Lying in the dark,
Next to me a tiny boy;
Sweet but I can’t sleep.

Lately I wake up around 4 or 5 for a while each morning. I lie next to Abraham and David, my baby and my beloved, and I reflect.

Ok, sometimes I worry.

About my family: will the baby sleep? Will my stepkids be happy? Will my husband always love me as I love him? Will my ill family members be ok? When will we get to visit Florida?

About my work: will I get everything done? Why do I still have all these jobs? Why am I not working more in Reading, my own community? Will I get my play done?

About my self: will I ever practice yoga again? Why am I not sleeping? Will my body ever go back to the way it was? Are my friends really friends or just associates? Can I please have a vacation? At least from the responsibility and routine?

I’m not looking for responses. Just trying to process. The answers are already there.

Top Ten

I read many blogs, one being the Baby’s First Year Blog on Babble. Several bloggers share their experiences, and it makes for easy, enjoyable, and relate-able reading for me while I nurse Abraham.

One of the bloggers making 10 Top Ten lists to make 100 things she loves now that she is a mom. I am stealing the idea because it sounds fun and indulgent. I’ll copy her categories because my brain can’t be original right now.

Fashion/Clothes:

1. Hats (it is winter and they cover my unwashed hair)
2. Earrings (easy to put on and make me feel put together)
3. Camisole Tank Tops (easy access for the nursing baby)
4. Button Down Shirts (same easy access)
5. Stretchy Pants (sigh. so comfortable)
6. Cardigans (warm and snuggly, can take it off when it gets spit up on and i still feel clean)
7. Tunics (i like these anyway, but they cover the belly and provide access for Abraham)
8. Slip-on Shoes (baby in the arms makes tying or buckling a challenge)
9. Glasses (some mornings Abraham doesn’t have the patience for me to put in my contacts…
10. Sling (I love wearing my baby more than any clothes!)

Baby Things (I made my list, so it is only fair I make one for Abraham)

1. Clothes that snap or zip from bottom to top and cover the tootsies (baby clothes that go over the head are baby torture!)
2. Hats (to keep that giant head warm)
3. Nursing Cover (my boobs belong to him now, no one else)
4. Swing (for a little bit of solo time)
5. Flip Camera (ok, this is mine but it is so great to have on hand)
6. Swaddling Outfit with Velcro (helped him sleep better until he began trying to escape)
7. Mobile (makes him so happy)
8. Stroller (even though I like to wear him, it is nice to look at him looking at the world as we walk)
9. Wrap/Sling (he loves being held and the wrap is great for taking long walks)
10. Tiny Socks (they are ridiculously cute and functional!)

Abraham’s most favorite thing of all: the ceiling fan! It just sits there on the ceiling, providing beautiful contrast for developing baby eyes (dark blades against a white ceiling). It hasn’t been on all winter, but that doesn’t matter to little Abraham. I can let him rest on the bed and gaze up at the fan and he will smile and smile. As long as he smiles at me too, I don’t mind!

Alone

No one is touching me right now. It is simultaneously wonderful and sad. I miss my guys.

Abraham is sleeping a mere foot away from me. I’m experimenting to see if he will sleep without nursing all night long. So far, so good.

David is sleeping in Philadelphia tonight. So much work to do. I’m so grateful for his effort, because it means I get to be home with Abraham. But I miss him and I wish our home and his office weren’t so far from one another.

I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m not good with free time. I never have been, but now I really suck because I never have any. It is too late to practice yoga, so I suppose I will just rest and breathe. Perhaps read a few longer articles that I can’t concentrate on when Abraham is awake.

Any suggestions?

Oh My Gods

I got to practice yoga. I felt like myself again.

David held the napping baby, and at first I ran around, eating and cleaning up. Then I remembered…me time. I have who-knows-how-long to do whatever-I-want. David, the best husband in the world, can get me food and tidy the kitchen. What can I do for myself that he can’t? YOGA!

I brought my bolster and other props to the living room to be near my guys. I did a short but glorious pranayama practice – I breathed my way back to myself.

Abraham woke up right as I finished, and as I nursed him, I sent a message to my yoga teacher to tell her I was back! Her response:

Tada drastuh svarupe ‘vasthanam
Then (once the mind becomes still) the seer abides in it’s true nature.
-Patanjali, the Yoga Sutras, chapter 1, v.3

Yoga brings me closer to my Self (capital intentional). Being a mother brings me closer to my Self too. My job now is to find a way to practice yoga and motherhood.

Which reminds me of another sutra:

abhyasa vairagyabhyam tan nirodhah

Practice and detachment are the 2 pillars of yoga. I think they might also be pillars of parenthood – work hard, do the best you can, and then let it go.

I keep thinking about this sutra in a big sense – I have not been able to practice in a while due to the birth of my dear child. I have been trying to detach from my own practice – not in the sense of letting go of it altogether but just letting go of the dependency. I’m still Me whether I practice yoga today or this week or this month. At this point, the yoga is in me, waiting patiently.

 

Mom-ent

I am wearing black stretch pants and a t-shirt from 1996 with the neck cut out. I’ve become a mother. Dear Lord.

At least my hair is down and I’m wearing earrings. And I brushed my teeth today!