I can't whistle

Mindfulness

2012-02-02T13:08:00.005-05:00

So today, in an attempt to stack the cards in my favor from the get go, I set up a meditation alarm to gently chime every 7 minutes to give me ample opportunities to reevaluate whatever it is I am doing and choose something else if I've veered off energetically or productively.

And you know what? It's working.

The longest this lets me veer unconsciously, unmindfully, is 7 minutes.

I'm feeling pretty happy about this simple solution. My energy is better and I am being fabulously productive. I'm just sayin'.

I have a meditation timer app on my phone, but today I am using an online one I found after a very very quick search.

Behold the fungie:
http://www.fungie.info/bell/#

I'd love to know, what works for you?

Kicking myself in the pants

2012-01-31T13:02:00.002-05:00

Just a video today folks.

How about you? How do you get yourself back on track when you find yourself energetically veering?

Thanks for listening.

ambiance

2012-01-27T10:00:00.000-05:00

Ambiance, a triptych.

(aka pumping at the tradeshow)

righteous tenderness

2012-01-26T11:19:00.001-05:00

Sometimes after a big ramp up to an event or deadline, I find myself in sort of an energetic never never land. Not aimless, but a bit unmoored. Sometimes this shows up as a pathological need for sleep. Sometimes (ok, often) a need for chocolate cake. Usually cured very quickly by a project, idea, goal that coalesces in that place not too far out there called the near future. But before the coalescence, there is a bit of in-betweenness. And with that comes some tenderness.
I always forget this and am caught off guard when it happens every single time.
I ask myself: it is the phase of the moon? (tiny sliver of a crescent, so lovely last night in a twilight sky clear as glass)
I wonder about hormones.
I wonder about life purpose.
I look for something to blame.

But really, it's all me. Me, in-between. Me, doing this part of the energetic pattern. Ramp up. Frenzy. Decline.

So, here I am on the downside slope after a big ramp up and long-ass day trip to a trade show in Chicago that I will write about soon, and, surprise! I am feeling tender today. Not raw, but I noticed I am quicker to tears, quick to respond or react emotionally. As always, I looked around for something to blame, forgetting all I know about how this goes. Ignoring the pattern until I sat down just now and decided to really take a look at what is going on for me.
Ah ha. Oh yes, I remember now.

I have to remind myself that my sensitivity is one of my best attributes, even if sometimes it is a giant pain in the ass.

I wrote to a dear friend today about sensitivity/fierceness and how I think they are related. But after I hit send, as some sort of proof of my hypothesis, I searched my soul for fierceness. Hmm. Hello?

I guess I can be fierce: fiercely protective of loved ones and freedom of speech. I can be fierce, but I am not fierce. I am not fierce in any way that anyone else would recognize.

So what? So. I guess in that moment, in this moment, I realized I want to redefine fierce to make it something I can feel I can be. I like fierce. I covet fierce. Fierce is not mean or predatory. Fierceness has intensity of purpose, focus, clarity, righteousness. Fierce is energetic. Fierce is strong. Fierce Does Stuff. Fierce is protective, maybe even (gasp) proactive.

So today as I attempt to make amends with my tenderness, I want to say that, upon reflection, I have a righteous tenderness. A fierce tenderness. And somehow this little bit of reframing/redefinition makes me sit up a little straighter.

Dread

2012-01-17T20:06:00.001-05:00

Just a quick update to say that Doug is on the mend after several dramatic and rocky days of purging. Della is fine fine, and I finally feel like my own self again. This virus sucked. Having Doug get it, and go down for the count, made me feel slightly less wimpy. All I could do was lie there and whimper and while he did not whimper once (out loud)-- I could tell it was bad.

So, we don't have to dread it anymore.

Odd thing, dread. Dread is often bigger than the thing itself, certainly more thorny, much more complicated since all the possible scenarios must be attended to with sufficient worry and contingency planning. And now? Dread-be-gone. Reality happened, as it tends to do.

Ode to apple juice and life in 24 hour increments

2012-01-15T13:32:00.000-05:00

So-- not a fun week. It began as a fun week though- a great visit with Sprogblogger and a few other on-line friends in the best-luck-ever-club of having babies in spite of infertility. Babies! Great food! Friends! Then
the barfing began. To put this in perspective, I do not barf. I just don't. I spent the first n months of my pregnancy feeling all out shitty, but I never actually threw up. But Monday night? Almost no warning and then the drama began. The drama played out with me lying on the floor outside the bathroom door. Or briefly on the sofa. Or with my head on the toilet seat (OPEN). Icy chills turned to fever by tuesday. And while Tuesday was mercifully barfless between the hours of 8am and midnight (with one last hurrah at midnight before going away all together), I felt I was dying of thirst, had a fever, and could barely stand upright long enough to do anything. PathetiKate. Indeed. All night I craved ice cold apple juice with a nearly (well, actually) pathological intensity. During the long Della labor, it was what sustained me. Apple juice and ice chips.
Della was fine. So I figured it was food poisoning from my Monday dinner. Della was fine, so it could not be the flu, right? Right.
So off to daycare she went with Doug, and he brought me apple juice (best.thing.ever).
And I got over it slowly and pathetically with much moaning. I felt like crap, people, no kidding.

But days passed, I got better except for insane fatigue, and Della somehow was fine. News came in from the sunday gathering-- the barfing, apparently, was indeed a flu. And it was making its nasty rounds through the families from the gathering. Felling the adults, and scaring the children.
But Della was fine.
was.
Night before last, with no warning whatsoever, she began to barf the bewildered barfing of a little one. Shocked face, hands full up in all of it. Amazing amounts for such a small container. Luckily it was all over me, so we did not need to change sheets, just clothes, and clothes again, and again. Towels and clothes. And a mostly sleepless barf filled night ensued.
Then, by yesterday morning, after one last hurrah at dawn, she was fine.
I spent the day on high alert, but she is fine.
Really.
And Doug? I think Doug is probably screwed but I can hope.

But this week of snow days and barf days and bone crushing fatigue and feeling like I am falling farther and farther behind in just about everything... well, here I am on Sunday afternoon trying to create on demand and decided to veer off into saying hello here--Hello!
I have a post brewing about resonance, rather than regurgitation, but sometimes you have to take what you can get.

not resolutions, intentions

2011-12-31T22:25:00.004-05:00

I've been thinking a lot about human nature-- that is, the nature of each of us. Many folks in my life have folks in their lives they wish would change, right now. And I was thinking how very hard change is. Folks tend to change only when they want something badly enough, or very badly want something to stop, and are willing to trade the potential payoff for the potential consequences.

I remember long ago in therapy, I learned that if I changed what I was doing, I might indirectly change how a relationship or interaction was going too simply because I was no longer doing my part in the dance. I also remember how many months and years I sat with that knowledge without having the guts to put it to use, afraid of what would happen, afraid of consequences, afraid, in fact, of the very change I hoped for.

I am not sure why I am writing about this now, except for some current upheaval and events in the relationships of my beloveds (not me, thank god, all is solid here). But perhaps also because I feel compassion for all involved...because I feel my own reluctance to change, even when faced with opportunity. I tend to choose what I know, even if what I know does not work as well as I would like.

As I look to the new year, I will state this intention: I intend and hope that I will begin to make choices not only based on familiarity/old habits and patterns, the great regression, but to take a chance every once in a while and choose some new path, some new way, something that pulls instead of pushes, something that moves me in the direction of how I want to feel. Even thinking about it/writing about it makes me feel a little tired and a little scared. What if my choices are wrong? Or if things don't work out? What if I make a mistake? (one of my top ten pain-in-the-ass issues of this lifetime: fear of making mistakes)
The power in my intention is that I know I am scared, but I am also acutely aware that many of my choices/responses/reactions this year did not support my highest and best, at least, not the holistic way I'd like. How can I best support myself emotionally and spiritually? How can I create more energy instead of less? How can I create the best environment for positive change and evolution? What small steps can I take that move me in the right direction(s), without triggering my "run away run away" fear response?

How about you? As you look to the new year, what are you thinking? Not resolutions per se, but what mindful intention are you putting out there?

Funny thing about resolutions: They sound so nicely tied up, don't they? As if via resolutions something(s) get Resolved. Not so much.

Join me in some self-compassion, and some mindful intention(s): What small steps can you take to support your highest and best (in the context of your reality people, not some woo woo unicorns and rainbows universe)?

Wishing you all the happiest healthiest most personally prosperous all-good-dreams-come-true New Year.

Pond 360

2011-12-29T17:41:00.000-05:00

Please check out my sister's new blog.
She intends to post a photo of her pond every day. In the way that each observed life is never the same moment to moment, the pond changes with light and season and weather... sometimes complex, sometimes simple, always beautiful. She has created the intention and the opportunity to really experience her pond each day for the next year.
And, if you want to get a bigger glimpse into her awesomeness, read the About page. She's pretty amazing.

http://pond360.blogspot.com/

String theory and old food

2011-12-29T17:27:00.003-05:00

A night of hard rain, and the snow is mostly gone for the moment. Only little clumps remain like crumpled up paper in the shadows.

Today feels peaceful, Momma is visiting which is pure bliss for me. Groceries! Trip to the dumpster! Pumpkin bread!

I thought I might work some, but time has whooshed by, and now we are waiting for tea to cool before she leaves at 2:00.

I'm having an interesting relationship to time right now, string theory, rubberbanding, stretching out, contracting, knotting, taking for ev er , then, in a moment, a week is gone. Sleep is now filled with dreams informed by whatever I've watched on TV (last night, surfing! skid row! MRIs and music!, the other day planet earth! shark infested waters!) and an almost schizoid cleaning out of the fridge dreams, a bit of everything, nothing, no narrative, no sense, just Stuff. Stuff that perhaps has spent too much time in tupperware.

***
a day passed since I began this post.
time doing that rubber band thing
and me
choosing to post rather than waiting for epiphany.

Solstice

2011-12-21T16:41:00.001-05:00

Today was cold and rainy, with the kind of air that pushes woodsmoke down like fog. This morning I watched the sky turn light through windows skimmed with condensation, and now, on this second shortest day, it is already dark enough at 4:30 that I can barely see the pines against the nearly black sky.

What I really want to say is thank you. Sincerely. Big-heartedly. Your comments helped knit me back together.

I'll just do what I do here.
And I'll start by posting an image of one of the paintings I did a few weeks back during the campfire weekend. No need to comment on it. This kind of stuff is really personal, and no two people respond the same way. I want to share it because I like it. Here it is: abstracted November.

Tomorrow will be dark too. But then, the next day? LIGHTER.

Identity

2011-12-18T10:46:00.000-05:00

Here I am, in the midst of things, wondering what this space should be. Can it just be what it is?
I think I've lost most of my readers through my intermittency and my pregnancy success. And I totally get both of those. But I am not giving up this space, it means so much to me. And you, you who do read, thank you!

What do you think?
Can I just go on babbling about being in the vague in between land of post-interfertility(if there really is ever a post-infertility stage, which I doubt) IVF mom-lost-house-and-job-found-work-patchworking-together-contracts-art-life-parenting-with-liberal-doses-of-midlife-uncertainty? Or should I create a more certain direction/identity for the blog?

For me, this is my real life (not the blog, but what I write about here)-- I realize I am not writing as often not because I have nothing to say but for time reasons mostly and occasionally because I am not certain what would be appropriate to write here.

I have a whole post written on envy that seems like annoying whining.
So in awareness of my incredible luck with having Della, something I know so many people are still fighting the good fight to achieve, could I give myself permission to write about envy from this decidedly enviable position? I thought not. And now, I wonder, should I post it anyway? It is my truth, after all.

So yeah. I want to write about things like envy, fear, where the hell is my period (no, not pregnant, just no period yet), co sleeping, nostalgia and food waste.

I want to write about the complete wonder I have when I see Della and know that she is real. I still cannot believe it, and still worry about Bad Things That Could Happen.

I want to write that I spent the whole pregnancy worried about my cervix, about premature labor, about losing her. I worried about losing her during delivery. And in those days and nights after. And for the whole first year I slept with my hand on her chest or back so I could feel her breathing.

I want to write that now out of the window for SIDS, I cannot quite allow myself to stand down. That I have never loved anyone or anything like I love her and cannot believe just how intense it is, how huge, how encompassing, how clear and unfettered.

I want to write about things like the fact I am still breastfeeding Della. Not as much, not as often. yes at night still. I want to write that I love it and hate parts of it. Dread what my body will look like when I stop. Hate my vanity for even thinking about my breasts as anything other than miraculous. I hate how Della digs her nails into the opposite breast, over and over and over and tantrums if I try to intervene. How did this habit develop? I don't even know.. why can I not be strong enough to endure the tantrum? I don't know, I just can't.

I want to write about how sad I feel, how bone deep nearly desperate sad, when I think of breast feeding ending, or ending co-sleeping, knowing that this will never happen for me again.

I want to write that I want to do this all again, no, not with another baby, but this one, this little one. I miss her infancy with an intense ache, it went by so fast! I can see how this is the age at which so many folks try for a second. I get it. I really do. But we can't and won't and don't really want to-- Della is our miracle. But I want to write about how I envy folks who are pregnant again. Even though I don't really want to be.

I want to write about the complexity of feeling Other in a world of younger moms. I want to write about how it feels to meet moms at daycare and realize I am old enough to be their mom. I want to write about how I feel as if I am making it up every day, figuring things out as I go, feeling triumphant at a walk down town with Della in the stroller, but even then, how the favorite blanket untucks, goes under the wheels and rips.

I want to write about how when we go to Target and Della sits in the cart the whole time, it feels like a blessing from the box store gods. and when she wants to be carried instead, I have learned to push the cart one-handed, while her weight sits on my left hip and I wonder how I got to be so strong in some ways and such a wuss in others.

I want to confess we bathe her with sponge baths still-- that real baths and showers make her cry so hard I cannot think. We try, like today, and hope that sometime it changes into something tolerable.

I want to say how lonely I feel, but also how I have created a life so full and busy that I have no time to connect in real life. Logistics paralyze me. I have work to do. I always have work to do.

I want to say that while somehow, so many things are miraculously great, I am scared everyday about money, about the inherent intermittency of contract work, of the uncertainty. And how, car repair becomes a christmas present, depletes my account, creates worry where for a moment there was actually a tiny cushion. And how am I ever going to repay my immense debts to my family that helped make Della?

I wonder what to say about all of this
so instead sometimes it is easier not to write
or to let the moment pass
and just say, hey everyone. I miss you.

Begetting

2011-12-11T17:27:00.001-05:00

A creative weekend, intense, productive, good. The thing about creating, is that it makes me miss creating. Sort of like happy begets happy. Creativity begets creativity. And there is such power in that.

Speaking of begetting: The most recent Duggar news having me feel like a big old asshole for being so reflexively and irrationally angry at her 20th pregnancy (why the hell do I do that? it made me feel defeated and here I am on the far side of IF hell with a dreamy baby. WTF.), and then feeling the stomach punch as the whole universe learns of her miscarriage via yahoo or other internet news. I ache for her. For them. Gah.

And a tough conversation this weekend with a beloved friend who is going through hell made me realize, no matter what happiness comes, old pain, the kind that sticks in our bones after a big loss, well, it sort of lurks there. Undermined self confidence sticks around. Grief hovers, waiting. It is not that they are stalking, I don't think they are that active. But they are pretty impressively opportunistic. Pain often brings up old pain. Grief brings up old grief. Powerlessness brings up old powerlessness.

So, in this moment, I want to forgive myself my old pain, the one that made me angry at a woman I do not even know, simply for getting pregnant.

And I want to wish on all of us a little self-compassion. Sometimes, in an immediate emotional moment, it does not matter what we have. Sometimes what matters most to our poor battered hearts isn't what we have, it's what we've lost.

campfire

2011-12-10T15:30:00.001-05:00

Campfire creativity gathering in full swing. Stop by if you'd like! No obligation at all.Don't forget to check out Susan's amazing photos of us from last weekend up in Maine. Happy to be creating part of today, happy to be able to just enjoy this piece of my puzzle. The sky is showing the last light of the day. It went by so fast.

nose, grindstone, chocolate, attachment, photos

2011-12-07T14:15:00.001-05:00

Yes, well, right then. Where were we? Oh yes.
So here's the thing: I created a scenario where I now have 4 jobs, 4 bosses, and have found myself to be a wee bit flat out crazy. I get on here (computer that is), work in a frenzied sort of way, go get the little one, have our short but intense evenings, then do it again, until fridays where I am not on here much, the weekend too, then begin again. I feel very unsettled, unconnected, disconnected, and fragmented. And I am not UNHAPPY but I am not feeling I am doing all that well either. So incredibly happy/grateful to be employed (let's just see how gratitude can be a mixed blessing shall we?)

But grateful means it is hard to say no- because what if no one ever asks me to do work again? WHAT THEN? This is very much old katestuff, the stuff of who would want to date me? You? OK THEN! (not a great dating strategy)

So, I am sitting here in a self imposed time-out.
I've eaten about 300 chocolate chips to ward of dementors, and am trying to just figure out what to do. I figured out what to do in this moment: write. And then, when I am done, I am switching projects for the day, moving onto something else, and will return to what I am feeling thwarted by tomorrow. I stopped, called my sister, talked, chocolated, pumped, thought some more, and then Felt My Way toward this interim solution.

I know, you probably are here to hear about Della. She is wonderful- magnificent. Moody, funny, silly, smart as hell, delightful, and a miracle I keep discovering and I cannot believe my luck.
We are, however, not sleeping well. I am emotionally all tied up in knots about making any changes since I feel so attached to what we are doing/ trying to do, because this closeness matters to me so much. But like so many things, when I hang on to something with desperation, it usually blocks any possibility of anything else happening, even good things, or maybe, especially good things. So. Yeah. I witness. I imagine either I or the universe will know when it is time to make a change. Until then, shit sleep and witness.

We saw our amazing friend Susan Mullen this weekend on a night away to Maine. She took photos of us in the diner, and then outside in the near dark of twilight, and somehow found light inside of each of us. Check out the amazing photos she posted on her blog. Here's one:

Seriously, she is insanely talented.

Hey, if you're around this weekend, stop in over at www. thatplacewego.blogspot.com-- I am going to be doing a creative intention weekend, (holding the intention to do Something(s) creative) and would love companions on the journey. Stop by, comment, have some tea. This life is a bit like running back and forth along a teetertotter trying to balance. Perpetual motion rather than stillness. I will be doing something heartwork-wise this weekend, I will.

Mid December Campfire Invitation! December 9-11, 2011

2011-11-23T08:32:00.001-05:00

You are invited to the Mid-December Campfire!

Please join me in adding some light to this dark season with our second
virtual creativity workshop!

When: December 9-11, 2011

Where: www.thatplacewego.blogspot.com

What: A totally free, open hearted on-line gathering of like-minded people!

The idea of the campfire began while Squam Art Workshops was taking place
close by and impossibly far, and I realized just how deeply I felt a longing
to be connected to other creative people, in a space that supported creative
exploration with beautiful scenery, amazing food, and opportunity to try new
things. I realized that even if I could not sign up to attend a real-life
workshop, that did not mean I could not gather with like minded folks,
joining energies to create our own space and intention to take some time to
explore, move projects ahead, try new things, make messes, meet new people,
take risks, or just fold into the welcoming arms of a beloved project. We
had a great time, and I hope you'll consider stopping by!

Come join me for a weekend of mindful creativity, of music, of mugs of
chocolate or tea or chai or yerba mate or coffee, of sky gazing, of navel
gazing, of painting or writing or thinking or sewing or imagining or trying
out that new software, that strange setting on your camera, that
needlepoint, that pair of purple tights with those red shoes, that walk in
the woods....

Creativity take so many forms, and there is no one right way-- just come and
join us, knowing folks around the globe are taking time, moments, hours,
whatever time possible in the context of real life to take part in creative
endeavors. If we wait until everything is perfect we'll never do it. So,
please join us! The energy of shared experience is magical, I promise.

Opening campfire, Friday evening, December 9th (or whenever you arrive!)

Please pass this invitation along to folks who you think might want to join
us. I look forward to seeing you there!

ONE, a brief retrospective

2011-11-10T09:47:00.000-05:00

That's our girl. She is all about two-fisted cake eating.

We had a very very happy birthday celebration, including the emergence of her second top tooth.

Better to eat cake with, my dear.

Eve

2011-11-08T16:22:00.002-05:00

A year ago I was in the thick of itI cannot believe a year has passed, remembering it feels like dreaming.Tonight I have a date. TammyLove will come and sit with Della (Della will think it is the best birthday present EVER), and Doug and I will go have dinner. Just the two of us. Time change and tiredness will win out, but not before an hour or two of dinner with my darlin'.Off to get Della,birthday Eve.amazing.

FOUND

2011-11-03T15:36:00.001-04:00

Keys were found by my darlin'. Apparently someone (cough*della*cough) thought it would be GREAT FUN to hide them deep in the labyrinth of bottles in a 24 pack of bottled water, complete with 4 side shrink wrap. So my mind? not as lost as I thought, and keys are found. Happy me.It is the season of due dates and memory, and I've been spending a lot of contemplative time remembering last year as if it were some sort of dream. In fact, some of my dreams feel more real than my reality. I am sure that means something bad. But anyway, last year this time I was past my due date, enormous, anxious, worried about All That Could Happen especially BAD UNMENTIONABLE THINGS.Here I was a year ago:

Hard to believe the little bundle of energy named Della was ever contained in any way within that great big belly.

Wednesday, tea and toast

2011-11-02T11:02:00.001-04:00

Weather report

2011-10-20T09:07:00.002-04:00

Cloudy, misty rain with a bit of funky offness, skin too tight-ness, heart too tender-ness.
So, I have made myself ginger peach tea, and a bowl of oatmeal with pumpkin pie spice (CLOVES) and brown sugar, and I made sure I am warm enough and am now trying to recalibrate my mood.

Outside it is looking a lttle novembery but it feels more like spring.

I realize, once again, that I have put myself in a position where I don't feel I can do my best for everyone I have said yes to. So I am strategizing. Trying to figure out how I can salvage the situation to make myself feel better, more under control, more capable, less conflicted.

It starts with time. Do I have enough? How do I make more available? What is the tradeoff? Is it worth it?
And it also starts with a simple question that makes me uncomfortable:

Is this bringing me more joy and satisfaction or less?

Hmmm. Think I will go drink my tea and distract myself a bit.

**if you want to watch me babble about this, head over to heartwork for a video. **

11 months

2011-10-14T19:27:00.002-04:00

Della, you are 11 months and 5 days old.

And today? Today you WALKED.

You love peas more than anything, except, of course, your dad. And nursing. You get frustrated more and more quickly when you are trying to communicate and we do not understand what you are saying fast enough. You are a total delight, allow me to snuggle you, kiss me with a big open mouth, shake your head no all the time no matter if you mean yes... the you that has been there all along is just getting bigger, and it is so amazing to witness.

And today, you walked.

my first video hello

2011-10-05T14:48:00.000-04:00

5 leaf clover

2011-10-04T12:38:00.001-04:00

It is raining.
I am watching the drops gather and fall from the eave right above my window.

A beloved friend's mom died today and I feel as if I've been taken out at the knees. Sending love is all I can do. I cannot change a disease or the way the day dawned or take away the sadness.

Instead, I find myself having to bring myself back to right now, this moment, this mug of tea, this clacking keyboard, this breath.

I went to vermont on friday. I walked through Manchester with Della on my not-so-hippish hip, and got shoes and some pants for della and felt very much away but no where near at home.

I went to vermont on sunday, to putney this time, home for me in the early 80s and I walked around the school and felt peaceful and open and full of possibility. I looked up in the faculty lounge and was treated to ART hanging from the ceiling-- an angel, wireframe, a pen and ink sketch that felt weightless and magnificent and oh how I love being surprised like that.

I found a 5 leaf clover as I walked through knee high pasture
and
carried Della on my not so hippish hip and for once she felt weightless.

and you know what? for a while, so did I.

Today? Vermont!

2011-09-30T09:35:00.001-04:00

While Doug sprays our fleabag (literally) apartment with cedar oil flea spray that we could eat but smells like funky old rotting buildings, I will be heading to the fine state of Vermont to spend my gas money and snack money somewhere where it counts, and be somewhere I love, and pray to the carseat gods that Della does not cry the whole way there and back.

Sunshine, fast moving clouds... me? partially cloudy with chance of ephiphany.

intermittent awareness

2011-09-26T20:47:00.000-04:00

The equinox came, and where was I? Suddenly it is the beginning of Della's first full autumn on the outside, and I missed the moment. I know, I know, moment schmoment, there are many, many days in autumn, but for me, someone who is so used to being so in tune with nature, I suddenly feel like I missed a step.
We have stumbled into earlier sunsets, and later sunrises, this I know.
I know Orion is tracking a different path across the sky.
I know the sun is rising down the pine row from when I moved in.

But me? I feel a bit lost-in-space. I am doing, moving, being, feeling, but I am somehow disconnected.

So, tomorrow, I drive up north, I will soak up the beauty in my new drive.
I realize I am exactly the right sort of person to drive the same drive every day since I love watching how things change, and let my eyes touch that river, those hills, that paddock filled with horses. But I am also the right person to take a new road, when a turn brings a surprise barn on a stone foundation, or a picket fence faced with mounds of lavendar or sage.

This new drive is both familiar and unfamiliar. I somehow need to get grounded.
I guess I start by knowing that.

ground fog

2011-09-23T14:06:00.003-04:00

Heavy gray sloggy

I am still sick and feeling bluegray and sort of leaden. I am not so deep in blue that I cannot see my way out, this is more like a ground fog, the kind that makes things mysterious.

Yesterday, on my way to work, my long rainy drive took me up through mountains and past some bogs that were wearing full fall color, reds and oranges, all still fully leafed and glorious. I could only see right by the sides of the road, so I could not be distracted by long views. Everything visible was immediate.

I am trying to make my way through this day that way, looking at what is in front of me, and trying not to be distracted by my mood or the long views that cause my heart to race.

Anxiety has been vibrating in my body, and I want to hear what it is telling me.

That's a lie. I want to be able to listen without having to DO anything about the information it is providing. So we are at an impasse. I am looking away, legs and arms crossed, foot dangling. I am humming.

notes from the trenches

2011-09-18T11:21:00.003-04:00

Doug and Della are asleep after a very restless sleepless night.

Last night was Della's second very disrupted night this week, so we are restarting the Zantac, and praying to whatever gods might be listening.

Last night, sitting on the sofa, I realized my throat was sore, and I was achy. When I get sick, sometimes it is like that. One minute I am ok, maybe just a bit blue, the next I am sick.

I had PLANS for today, people. Painting plans. Beading plans. And all I am is tired, achy, snotty and low.

So, I will wash my brushes, and just try to be ok with just being today. Being tired. being snotty.

On a fun note, Della learned to feed herself cheerios this week. It is the cutest thing ever. It begins with a perfect pincher grip, a single cheerio, and ends up with whole hand in mouth...

It's been a week of bright moons and wild night skies here.

And two days of cold with morning frost.

Seasons are shifting so fast I feel unsteady. I just want to say wait wait wait! Give me a minute! I need to catch up!

Morning light

2011-09-17T07:27:00.002-04:00

Feeling VERY happy this morning to be deliberately creating space for my creative self to flail about.

If you're inclined, you can join us! http://thatplacewego.blogspot.com

You do NOT have to be an artist or someone "creative" to join in the joy of shared experience. Maybe the project you've been putting off is vacuuming. I just know that time goes by so fast, and so much of life is consuming, that it is good to take a moment every now and again and see where I actually am and focus on the good parts.

My paint brushes are on the bathroom floor as distractions for Della while I am otherwise engaged.

Romantic painterly vision, no?

Sunshine on my face

ginger peach tea in my mug

possibility stretches out...

Invitation: September 16-18, 2011

2011-09-15T16:09:00.001-04:00

Hey there internets. Creative? Unsure? Creative-curious? Please come check out my impulsive I-am-crazy-to-do-this-with-a-baby-idea for this weekend.

That place we go...

cow-baby

2011-09-12T12:02:00.004-04:00

Della's third bottom tooth erupted yesterday, along with two big developmental steps--Della spent the day rather suddenly pulling up one handed and then shocked us by walking with daddy while he held only one of her hands.

We went to the fair, met pigs, chickens, ducks, bunnies, cows, horses and a seriously cute mini burro. Della also met fried dough. YUM.

Before I forget, there are so many things I want to say-- things that have helped, things that didn't...

Aveeno unscented diaper cream. Thick, unscented totally.... works. UNSCENTED> Hurrah!

Pampers sensitive swaddlers.... no disney characters, and they work *fine*. I get mine via Amazon Mom and have a subscription. I wanted to choose differently for the earth, but this is what is working for us right now and we can't (I can't) afford trial and error.

For me-- all breast pads suck. I finally got pull over sleep bras from Medela, 20 bucks each, and wear them with bamboo or cotton breast pads that look like I've stuffed pancakes in my bra. For work I wear a more structured bra that does not show the pads, and I simply remove the whole thing to pump using a pumping bra (fembot).

At night, I leak like mad, sometimes sleep bra-free just to have less to deal with but nearly always regret the sopping dripping wetness of it all.

Baby stuff we bought and wasted money on: mechanical swing, she just did not take to it. Maybe the crib? we'll see. it was cheap and maybe it will get use. I hope so.

Soft toys. MOMMA like soft toys. DELLA likes things that rattle, crinkle, make music, noise....

Clothes: she is now in shirts and pants, all cotton jersey or soy (sales on diaper.com!).... no onesies. She is robust not lanky so this is working best for us right now. Barefeet rule. Her first real shoes arrived today via Zappos amazing overnight delivery. Soft soled and I will let daycare decide when they want them on her. For now, i want her barefoot as often as possible for kinesthetic feedback, balance and walking.

Kate stuff: the in between body has been a very interesting journey and no doubt will continue to be pretty amazingly weird. I am trying not to buy things for this in between place but have needed bras (got cheap ones from hanes at walmart that work fine), needed pants for work (kohl's dockers), and am simply going to go with t shirts/tanks and cardigans for the foreseeable future. Things that fit and are comfortable are really important to me. My goal is to be unconscious of what I am wearing-- somehow achieve comfort+ appropriateness.

I was wearing maternity T shirts to cover/disguise The Belly but they are now way too big and just look bad. Shirts are still a problem for me.

I hoarded one pair of maternity pants, white jeans I love, but now the waist band feels thick and weird (which it should). But I cannot quite part with them yet.

I moved a button on a pair of jeans. This felt like progress. My weight is pre-preg but my shape is something very foreign.

Motherhood has given me everchanging breasts, but still no butt. Alas.

I wash my hair every two or three days, have it up in a barette most of the time. Floss every few days. I try to shower each day, even if it just is a rinse, and try to shave since apparently that is what sets me apart from the animals. That and cover-up.

I totally see how easy it would be to give in, give up. Stretchy pants, slept in shirts.. I walked today in my sleep outfit. But when I got home I made myself change. I think FOR ME it is important to feel as if I am "ready", which, when possible means clean teeth, deoderant, and fresh undies. When possible, it also means clothes I don't mind being seen in.

Now that I am in an apartment, folks just come to the door. Odd to be sprawled post nursing with a sleeping baby and have someone just suddenly be there. Not my favorite thing.

Pumping: I bought a medela pump on super sale but god damn it was expensive...and I still use it. I am glad I spent the money on it even though it and I are not friends. I bought a hand pump as a backup and had to use it once and I hated it completely. I have decided for sanity to pump only once a day--feed before and immediately upon returning home. I read or do work on a mini laptop while pumping. I pump in a bathroom (I did in my last job too) and it just rots. Reading/working helps a lot. Also Lynda.com is amazing for on-line learning for 25$/month unlimited access to training videos for SW and a lot of great documentaries that I hope to watch someday.

Feeding: We are still using the small medela bottles and slow flow nipples. I have med flow to try this week maybe. I will be mixing breast milk with formula, thank you What IF for the affirming suggestion! Della does not drink more than 4 oz per feeding since she is really about solids too--so we've never needed bigger bottles. I keep seeing babies drinking from them and worried (over and over) that maybe I am doing something wrong. A 22lb baby says things are fine.

New in-between car seat comes this week. I'll let you know if I like it at all once it is here. I interviewed many in real life at babys r us and gosh darn, do they HAVE to be so hard?

I am pretty sure this will not solve Della's hatred of being in the car. But it will solve the "she is too big for her baby bucket" problem if it works out.

I still have multifaceted envy but will write more about this in a different post. I met someone's newborn yesterday and felt that twinge, you know the one... and I thought goddamn it! Really? Still?

Apparently, yes. Still. Damn it.

10 months

2011-09-09T13:48:00.003-04:00

Della, you are 10 months old and you are amazing. Kinetic does not begin to describe you, busy, active, moving, thinking, doing, babbling, grasping, trying, studying, contemplating, eating!
You love eating, and will try anything. Hate bland food or food that is too smooth. Last week a fever and rash scared me, and your tongue kept pushing food out when delivered via spoon, but fingers? Fine fine, so we ate that way all week.

This week, 22lbs, 27 1/4 inches, healthy, crazy beautiful.

Daycare starts next week, and I am feeling shaky about it. I want one on one attention for you, even though I know it is not possible in every moment. I hope you will learn to share, and learn not to pinch and bite. The place is peaceful, I was worried too peaceful. But the second visit this week included stomping boys who bang things together so that is good news for me. I did not want you to get used to too much quiet.

Your favorite book is goodnight gorilla and you turn to the goodnight goodnight goodnight page over and over and grin while I read it over and over and over.

You play peekaboo by hiding behind the chair, and giggle in anticipation before you pop out. It is adorable and you really laugh.

You do not laugh easily so when you laugh it is extra special delightful. You smile often, are totally charming and engaging. You cry to let me know you are not happy with a choice, a moment, or a sensation.

You have abandoned your foray into early language except for a noise you repeat often, sort of an aoup noise. Sometimes appp. But when mom visited us yesterday you said many things right after her, which you never do with me. I am amazed at how different you are with each one of us.

Your dad is coming home (praise god/goddess/all-that-is) tonight for 4 whole days... the weekend home, monday and tuesday working with normal commute, then back to maine, but I am hopeful that normalcy can be created for us all very soon. You are not difficult, but this has been very hard.

You love music. You turn on music and dance, arms flopping, a big grin on your face.

You love being outdoors, love our walks, love pulling grass, love swinging.

You do not like being put down while I am up. I have become adept at face washing one handed, but still need two for dishes and for buttoning my pants.

Breast feeding is still working well for us, but you are suddenly not that interested in breast milk from a bottle. Formula? Fine fine. Breastmilk? Not so much. This is causing me angst. Nursing works fine, but working means pumping and pumping means bottles.

So, my little one, happy birthday. You are the most amazing thing that has happened to me. I can hardly remember "before". I do remember sleep though, and look forward to it sometime in the future.

10 months. Wow. What a wild and wonderful mindblowing ride this has been so far.

Free egg donor cycle opportunity

2011-09-01T14:22:00.003-04:00

Our friends at Shady Grove are giving away a free donor egg cycle to one of the participants in their upcoming donor egg seminar in Philidelphia a week from Saturday (Sept 10). If you know of anyone who is considering a DE cycle, this seems like a great opportunity. Their success rates are great.

exhalation

2011-08-26T11:07:00.002-04:00

The house is sold.
The new owner sent me the most lovely of lovely heartfelt notes, a true blessing, love, glitter, cavorting wild ponies. I felt more than moved, I felt shifted. Like a wonderful gift had been passed on to the next person who needed it. A talisman of sorts. The house saved me after Jeff's death. It was my declaration that life was worth living, creating, and gardens were worth planting. I am not sure the timing for the new owner, but I feel as if maybe, for them, it is just the right time too. And maybe, maybe, this is just the right thing for me in this moment, a gathering in, contemplation, hope set out like river stones, unread runes.

I am exhaling.
Feeling my knots loosen just a little. At least that knot. Those knots.
Beloved objects passed along to be beloved. Nothing is lost that way really.

I have a weird relationship to love. I tend to love with intensity, sometimes grudgingly, but then, with impressive tenacity.

Daycare begins maybe next week for my gregarious Della.
I am ready to have a more consistent schedule so I can work and create with a more steady foundation of knowing what days are for what... I do better that way, scaffolding I guess. The wire net under plaster.

So-- today, working. TammyLove is here after her vacation, and Della is so happy (as am I).

This morning, up before 4 to watch Orion rise over the trees, his belt vertical.
Me, I'm tired, my heart is sore, I have a LOT of work to do that I am avoiding but will plunge back into once I hit post.
I am ready for simplicity I think. Calm. A while of not frantically seeking work/packing/unpacking/freaking out...
I am ready to be for a while.

So, yes, exhalation.

words

2011-08-22T12:35:00.003-04:00

ba= ball
kehkeh= kitty cat
nigh nigh= night night
adam = ADAM! No kidding! A beloved cousin-- spoken clearly over the weekend
and, today, with Doug at the door, Da Da.

Still not walking unassisted (praise the gods)
Still eating almost anything from a spoon, fork, or from my fingers but not self feeding
Still amazingly wonderfully fabulously great
Still hates the car and car seat more than anything (yesterday's drive back was complete hell)

Looking for advice on car seats for tiny cars (Scion XA)-- she is almost too big for her infant bucket and is in need of the next size up- suggestions are welcome!

amnesia

2011-08-17T15:15:00.002-04:00

There are so many moments when I forget all that I know--
a crying baby, what do I do?
it's as if, for a moment, I am wiped clean of all prior knowledge and experience, and start again guessing, trying to find solutions. Sometimes it is all about incorrect assumptions-- Della hates the car seat, so it is easy to forget that the crying (oh how she cries!) might just mean that she's hungry.

I forget what works for me too-- go outside.
Walk.
MOVE.
Brew and drink (or just sniff) tea.
Stop everything I am trying to do, or wishing I could do, or whatever, just stop, breathe, be.
Whenever I try to move beyond what is possible in the moment, and come up against the reality-- too tired, too busy, cannot right now... I just frustrate myself. I am trying to learn to notice sooner, and ease into being in the moment as it truly is.

Della is just about walking, and is just amazing in her mobility, intensity, gummy grins, claps, and focus. She is the most wonderful companion.

This morning I tried something new-- we've been waking very early (5 somethingorother), and I lie there feeling like what I need to be doing more than anything in the whole wide world is sleeping when sleep is just not possible, we are AWAKE... it is a sucky way to start the day... so today! I got up! I unpacked boxes, raised dust, showered, got laundry ready to go in (not before 9! see what I learned?), went for a long long walk with Della in the Bjorn on a new path, a bike path, woodsy, great smelling, sounds of traffic and morning birds... a new place, a new normal, a new walk... we walked for an hour and came back, nursed, and went to pick up Linda Jane who has helped me since morning. We stopped at the grocery, came home, and, since it was just after 9 I put in laundry!

I have unpacked many boxes, made the bathroom bathroomable, made the bedroom much more organized, unpacked 2,3,4 boxes in the kitchen, made insanely delicious pumpkin bread, did laundry and folded it and put it away!
sneezed 80zillion times, blew my nose twice that number, but really, truly, today I made progress in a lot of ways.

Sunday I felt a knot loosening in my gut, the house knot... the closing is monday at 11:00 and I do not have to attend (power of attorney, praise the real estate gods)...
and a complexity knot.

I like my part time job, and I have learned some important things: I like working there. not here. not here in the room next to Della. My attention always feels fractured and I love being able to focus, on her, or on work. I like being around smart people, I like learning new things. I am not sure if I will be able to stay there or not, as it does not cover gas (it is far away) and child care, but it is a great diversion and I am enjoying that.

Ok, Della asleep on LJ, and me, snotty but feeling a wee bit more Kate.
HURRAH

9 months

2011-08-12T07:27:00.003-04:00

Della at 9 months is pure delight interspersed with moments of instantaneous unhappiness, back arched, wailing, enormous tears. Then, delight returns.
She has learned to sit and spin, sits and scissors her legs so she spins only counterclockwise I think, fast.
She crawls fast, thinks the toilet is fascinating, is babbling mamamamama and da da da da da which is wonderful. She has two talking voices, the deep babbly voice we've always known, and a new higher voice she uses sometimes that is so funny-- like she is "talking baby talk" to someone.

Della's eyebrows are in constant motion, like Grommet-- so many facial expressions per second.

Ok, unhappiness returns in this moment so I need to go, but so much more to say.

slices of sky

2011-08-10T08:09:00.003-04:00

yesterday I coped by spending the day out doing errands.

today, rainy, errands planned that will take me until after lunch, but reality is planned too. I am here, and I need to figure out how to move in even incrementally. With my wonderfully busy and social baby, I need to work in small bits.

last night a rogue cat came visiting out on the porch thingy that leads to our door. Finn (see below in photo from old house with old-school elmo and MyMommaSally-made mustard jar toy):

well, Finn (who is still bigger than Della) went crazy with howling and yelping, and galloping window to window. I am *so aware* of not wanting to make extra noise for those whose ceiling is my floor, whose walls are my walls... good grief what a racket.

Good news: the sky here is big so dawn comes with wild abandon. I can imagine it would be great star watching if not for the light pollution of living with outdoor lights and so many lighted windows... there are woods out front, past the porch thingy, so I look out from my sofa into green. The porch thingy itself is actually quite wonderful in spite of the astroturf. No really I mean it. A place to sit with morning shade and fresh air, one story up above the parking lot so it is not the only thing I see. This does not suck, except it does.

We'll all get used to the noise, I know. the cars the traffic the doors opening the footsteps. now we all wake and listen, over and over. So much time in the woods, alone, and I am used to quiet and dark. I've gone a little daffy maybe. Good to shake things up, keep from getting too weird and eccentric.

I'll exhale soon, once i figure out the next few weeks of child care and work and creativity schedule

and move in a little more so I have space to roam

Della is helping type so I'll stop here

moved.

2011-08-08T20:48:00.003-04:00

So there is some solace in having "moved"-- I no longer need to dread it, it already happened. I no longer need to imagine packing. I packed. I no longer need to worry about the cat. He's here and doing ok. I no longer need to worry how I'll feel or if I'll cry or how each of my "last times" will play out.

I am here in my new place. It is smelly which I find very discouraging. Old smoke maybe, musty, inside of drawer smell... it was hot and steamy today which does nothing to help with smelliness.

We're up to our necks in boxes in one room (this one where I set up my desk and a pathway, and I sit facing a window), up to our knees in boxes and piles everywhere else. With help from friends (TammyLove) and my mom, two mover guys and my love, today went very smoothly. My funky stuff looks funky here too, and things are starting to take shape through the mess.

Doug is home for the night, and leaves first thing in the morning, so I won't linger here. But I can say that in this moment, I am relieved that I am no longer anticipating the move. I may not be moved in, but I sure am moved.

hear me roar

2011-08-07T11:12:00.003-04:00

I am an olympic caliber avoider.

I avoid like other people breathe.

I hate to confront uncomfortable anythings, and will spend months of time and oodles of energy uncomfortably trying to avoid the uncomfortable.

Then, there is a moment that comes, where "it" (the dreaded whatever) is imminent. Suddenly, I turn into something fierce and focused, I run at it, arms waving, roaring...

Today is a roar day.

A tired roar, granted. A lump in throat roar. A roar that sounds a little whimpery at the edges. But hey...

Here we are, the day before.

Home stretch (with a big ole emphasis on the stretch).

Checking in

2011-08-05T13:13:00.002-04:00

Moving on monday (!)

feeling stressed and sad, and knee-deep (heart deep) in slogging emotional transition stuff. And August stuff. Not my highest and best. Right now it is cloudy, and suddenly soft. The flowers are all aglow in the garden. I am procrastinating here by the keyboard. Boxes to be filled stand open and ready. But I'm not. Not yet.

Here is a lovely photo of sleeping Della from yesterday. She was sound asleep on mom. And I totally get that. Right now I would like to crawl into a warm safe lap, curl up, held and safe, and sleep for a while.

20 days

2011-07-26T10:22:00.003-04:00

Transitions are not my strong point.

It's been 20 days since my last post.

I cannot tell you how lonely I feel for this blog, and this community. I just somehow cannot quite give myself permission to log on and write with so many other things that need to be done. Even though this feeds my soul, grounds me, reminds me of me. I need to remember to choose to do it anyway.

The house short sale is moving ahead: closing in 27 days.

The new apartment is a smelly blank slate, and my heart is aching as I face leaving this funky place that is so very effortlessly me. I did not have to create it, it just was. Making the apartment feel like home will take time, effort, and an open heart. I know it will be "fine", but the contrast with this place of light and air and woods and wildflowers is almost too much. I need to think of it all differently. The most important bottom line is this: I am trading this place for freedom.

There is so much to do. And trying to "do" in the swampyard of such heavy emotions? Well...

yeah.

Della is doing wonderfully except for her first barfing last night. I sat there, baby on lap, surprisingly hot barf cupped in my hands and made the choice to dump it on the floor rather than the rug. All elements of this new life.

Did I tell you I fell with Della a few weeks ago? I fell hard and fast against the wall and doorway while she slept in my arms. She stayed sleeping, and in that moment, I felt like maybe I was not a poser.

Motherhood after infertility is rife with the weirdest acute feelings of otherness, of somehow being an outsider in the world of mothers. I do not feel part of that group at all. I feel different. A weird cocktail of shame or embarrassment... Is it because I am so much older? Or because somehow it came so hard? I don't know. I do know this-- I've been too scared to even try to find a local tribe. This weekend my sister came (praise the god-goddess-all-that-is) and brought me reminders of the important things that are not things at all. We went to the lake, wallowed and breathed in fresh cooler air after a week of roasting. I ran into a beautiful woman who was in my birthing class who was there with her partner and their baby girl, born three weeks before Della. Her baby's name rhymes with Della's and we laughed. We're the only two from the class who had girls.

I looked into this woman's eyes, and felt a wave of longing and loneliness I had been ignoring: This want, so badly, to be part of a community in the real world.

In this time of so many transitions, I have really tucked in tightly, and it is hard to imagine opening up-- this vulnerability comes up with such a rush of sadness/otherness. I swear.

Anyway, in spite of me, after she got home she wrote and reached out. I hope to have the guts to meet.

I've always had fantasies about waking up and being able to:

play piano

understand linear equations

whatever

I want to know but always balk at the effort and process it takes to learn, knowing I need to be willing to be really bad at the thing I want to become good at.

I want to have community. I don't want to have to build it. I don't want to be bad at it. I don't want to fail and try again. I just want to be able to lean back into it like a big comfortable chair.

So, anyway, wow. Guess I hit on a nerve there.

Nerves.

Mine.

Anyway, I must get back to work. Sunlight is making the garden look insanely beautiful- coneflower, brown eyed susan's, purple spikey things, hosta blooms that are visited by hummingbirds...daisies as tall as I am. Lush, lovely....

Ok, really, back to work. Signing off with a lovely photo of Della a few weeks back at 8 months.

state of kate

2011-07-06T11:38:00.004-04:00

It is wednesday. Doug is home for a few hours and is asleep with Della-- so I wanted to write a quick update on the state-of-kate.

First, a few shout outs-- beloved Kristin asked me to write a letter to my body a few weeks ago which she lovingly posted on her blog, trust tending. If you have not yet visited her blog, please do so-- she is a truly amazing person, writes beautifully and honestly, draws the way I wish I could. She is a soul sister, so please, go there and take a read.

Next--B of No News is not necessarily good news is Pregnant with #2 after her recent and first IVF for this baby! She has a new blog to document this new journey, and she is 43. 43. HEAR ME LADIES, 43. So, if you're looking for some good news, this is most definitely it.

Ok-- now both beloveds are awake, Della is clapping and talking. She has not pooped since sunday (not unheard of but holy wow there is a LOT of oatmeal in there)...

Not sure how all of those pieces of information fit together but,

So-- the house sale hit a huge impasse when bank#1 rejected the offer (remember this is a short sale), appraised the house themselves and requested a much higher selling price. Huh. much higher. 30k higher.

***

days pass

***

it is now saturday afternoon.

so the miracle of the moment is that the house sale is back on as of this moment. Praying to the house gods...

I am in Maine and one of the many Sarahs up here has my baby for the next hour- so I've been like a crazed lunatic updating linkedin, quickly posting on my other blog (heartwork, remember that? so do I!) and now, finally here for a few moments before diving back in to work work.

I quit my day job wednesday, June 29th after 13 and a half years. I already had one contract lined up, and, since then, have secured another one, and a nice creative thinking project. I am not sure what will come next, but so far, things are BUSY and I am feeling a little overwhelmed with Things To Do. I'll be in NH monday-thursday each week (I realized I could not be here full time if I was going to do any work), and then in Maine each weekend until the end of camp when I'll be back in NH full time.

I cannot say what I am feeling since apparently I am the physical embodiment of mercurial. One moment I feel relatively calm, the next I feel panicked, one hopeful, one jazzed with anxiety... I do not feel rested or peaceful. And I don't (yet) feel jubilant. I think things were just too stressful for too long, and I feel very conflicted. I am having a very hard time letting go of my pragmatism in the spirit of a more holistic and happy life. This will take some time, I am willing to wait myself out, but need to keep making space for creativity. WonderfulDella is the most amazing teacher in living in the moment, focusing on whatever is right there, right now, needed or wanted.... immediacy, delight, wonder.

I am hoping for a half day a week to pour out what I am collecting and create space for creativity. It is very easy to just work through all available hours feeling as if that is what I should be doing above all else. So I need to watch myself, you know?

So-- Della is 8 months today, and I will write a post about that very soon. I miss you all, I miss this space, this type of sharing, this community. I am lonely for you all, I really am. My dropping out has to do with time, not interest. Single mothering of this particular little person is very intense and completely interactive. So, as of this week? Half a day to create. Let's see what happens.

If any of you have worked with a particularly good career coach or are good with titles, I need some help with what to call myself and my field of expertise. Please comment or shoot me an email icantwhistle at yahoo dot com.

go team Witt

2011-06-21T12:46:00.002-04:00

A quick note about a cool happening:

Please check this out: http://goteamwitt.blogspot.com/p/about-us.html

Kristin contacted me, and I think this is so generous and kindhearted, and perhaps YOU could be the next beneficiary?

More soon, but please check out the about page and then head home to see what is being auctioned or if you want to donate in some way.

Feel free to pass along the information too-- I am always amazed at the power of small acts of kindness.

7 months+ so big

2011-06-12T08:39:00.004-04:00

Dear Della,

These were taken at my mom's when you were just 7 months old.

This month has been a month of reaching for us, arms out, big smile, it has been a month that has included CRAWLING very fast, scary fast, one knee, one foot, faster than I can believe. You also started creeping? What is it called when you pull yourself up,stand up and move around the room holding onto things, cruising-- not creeping-- you pull up and stand and move. You are so strong and so amazing. You want to let go, and you do, and then you sit down hard and stand up again. Oh I have so much to learn from you! It has been a month that has included lots of solid food-- bananas and oatmeal are both favorites, as is guacomole. You play carefully (mostly) with the cat, wiggle with happiness, love the bjorn. You love walking with me anywhere. You love shopping, so much to see! People to smile at! You bite which sucks ass and I hope you stop. You bite and laugh you little sadist with razory teeth. There is no sleeping through the night, but we sleep differently than we did. We are still nursing in spite of the biting, and we both love it when you are sleepy. When you are awake it is a lesson in persistence for both of us-- you nurse and look around, nurse and look around, nurse and look around, but you are also very efficient so the nursing you do do is enough. We roared at each other a few nights back, you squawked your pterodactyl sound and I replied and made you laugh and we did it over and over because nothing is as addictive as your laugh and oh my voice is still sore. We click back and forth, do How Big, and peek-a-boo. You clap, and you clap my hands Hard. Ok, you're pulling at the stool my laptop is perched on, looking at me with big beautiful brown eyes fringed with EPIC lashes, I have never seen anything as beautiful as you are and I have seen some beautiful things indeed.

I love you beyond measure, and am so honored to be with you every moment that we share.

two-fer

2011-06-08T07:08:00.002-04:00

Baby is happy in this moment, so today, a two-fer.

I am flooding the house with cool air before buckling up against the heat. It is supposed to be beastly hot today, and humid too-- so right now goose bumps are a treat and treasure.

House is under contract, no kidding. Package has been submitted to the banks for consideration. I My realtor group has a lawyer and negotiators on board to do the heavy lifting, while I get collections calls every week from very nice bank of america people wondering why I am not paying. My last call to them ended with this: I do not qualify for any of their modification programs (my date of origination was after jan 2009, a magical date for making home affordable), so I needed to be 60 days late to qualify for their next tier of intervention. And so, just like that, everything I believe went to hell. Now they call and I feel like shit and they tell me the person lied, and I tell them to send that to me in writing with the name of the person I can call who will tell me what I qualify for while I pursue the short sale.... and nothing ever comes in the mail like that. It all sucks and is sucking my life force. Happily, the house is no longer being shown so at least I can leave my pump parts around, bottles on the rack, toothbrush on the sink.

The garden is magnificent, all iris are blooming. Hostas are huge and everything looks like it is thriving. I soak it in when I can.

This past week I had my first writing job in the days between workwork and going to maine to see Doug. It sucked, almost totally, but was very instructive in ways I will benefit from in the future. I don't want to dwell, but I was not proud of my resilience to the stress of it, and finally had to put on my Jen Lee shirt and my big girl pants and get a grip. Grip gotten, work submitted then a long drive north to Maine.

Maine will be for the summer only-- for me, just July and August. The cabin is cabin-y and I let myself off one hook by allowing myself to NOT try to make it home.

This weekend maybe I will look at apartments, trying to decrease costs as much as possible and knowing that for a time I can live almost anywhere. BUT having the baby changes things. (REALLY? NO SHIT KATE)

I feel fragmented and ragged, frayed and wrinkled, and tired in an achy sort of way.

A big life changing health issue in a beloved's beloved has rocked our worlds these past few weeks-- a diagnosis of MS and all of the fear and uncertainty and unfairness that that brings.

The diagnosis came yesterday, and the month really has been full of fear and uncertainty, scared of what it might be, fearing bad things, fearing worse things--

so while I sit surrounded by my own stress and bullshit, others are handling something so much more profound, so immense, that I felt I should be able to put my sadness and conflictedness and stress aside to hold room purely for an outpouring of very needed support kindness love.. but I can't. I am holding both.

I feel so selfish holding my own stressors too when they pale by comparison.

Like an etch-a-sketch, this other stuff should have toppled me over, given me a shake, cleared the screen, given me focus.

If you are reading this, beloved, I know you are thinking you are sorry. STOP THAT. I am sorry I am not managing better.

Ok, Della is done tormenting the cat, I must go. I just wanted you to know where I've been.

Unpoetically, deeply tangled, and wanting more than anything to gather myself together and just sit very still for a while or walk very far.

sunhat

2011-06-08T06:57:00.002-04:00

Photo by TammyLove, not quite showing the bottom teeth.

Yes, I am consumed. I miss you. I will be back soon, promise.

xo Kate

gaga, enoughness, and being a rock star

2011-05-30T18:59:00.004-04:00

Kymberli from I'm a smart one (she's worth reading no matter what!)- had a recent entry that my newly up and working internet allowed me to stumble across just now. With her permission, I wanted to include some of it here-- yes, it is about Lady Gaga, and it is TOTALLY WORTH READING.

Last weekend I sat down to watch HBO's premiere of Gaga's Monster Ball Tour,intending to only watch the first ten or so minutes, just long enough to self-righteously slap myself on the back for proving, once again, that I am sooo not a follower. But within the first five minutes, I found myself transfixed by the sight of her crying, her emotions just as bare as her naked, pre-Maybellined face. She was backstage preparing for the show -- the sold-out crowd at Madison Square Gardens already beginning to scream for her -- and she unexpectedly erupted into tears when someone asked how she felt about that night's upcoming performance. I expected some Miss-America-just-got-crowned type of crap, but what came out was anything but. She explained that sometimes she still feels like the loser, off-beat girl in high school, the one who no one understood and whose personality was so oddly shaped that it didn't fit into any typical niche, thereby making her the brunt of relentless teasing. Now that she's who she is, she fears that she'll be a disappointment, that she'll let everyone down for not being good enough. In blistering vulnerability, she explained about how she still feels like she's fighting against years of trying to prove that she's bigger than people's misunderstanding.
So there I found myself, feeling like an ass for being one of Them, and I watched the entire concert. I latched onto every lyric, was dazzled by the dance and the screaming and the story, and reflected the entire time on how if she, whose greatness and relevance is validated every day by record-breaking and fans and awards, can still somehow find moments of feeling less and unworthy of who she is, then I cannot feel wrong for sometimes feeling judged and unworthy and unproven. We all have our moments, whether short or long in duration, where we feel lost, broken, destroyed, or sometimes all three at once. "...I have to pick my shit up and tell myself I'm a rock star...," she said.

501

2011-05-24T12:43:00.003-04:00

500 posts, holy moly. This is my 501st.
Remember 501s? You'd buy em big, wash them a bazillion times and they'd fit better than anything. It is hard to imagine being so patient now, even if the outcome was known to be good. Everything now feels so immediate.

My internet at home has been mostly down,
and me, yeah, I guess me too.

House on the market, now under contract, all within a week or so. Now I pray to the various gods (god of pestilence, god of deck rot, god of air radon...) then, if all goes well, bank negotiations since this is a short sale.

I am spinning, so sad, hoping to be relieved but not at all relieved yet. In some ways it would be hugely premature to be relieved although without this offer, nothing else can happen. But until the banks agree, and I know what debt I will be handling, everything is unknown.

So, in great news, Joannah had her beautiful miracle baby, Michaela. I cannot link from this computer but she is at Beauty for Ashes.

Sweet Linda from bad plumbing gave me an award I will post soon. She just had a canceled cycle so that sucks rocks.

Della is magnificent. She is doing crazy things while nursing at night, a new and hopefully brief phase of acrobatics that lasts an hour or more each time. Crikey. I am tired. So is she! This morning before I left? Peaceful baby nursing, old school, lovely.

She is eating real food now along with breast milk. No I am not making my own, I am lucky to be dressed most days, and clean. I also do not have reliable sources of the organic produce I would want to use for such an undertaking, so... for now anyway, jars and squeezy tubes. I'll get back to you on favorites.

I need to go, just did not want to stretch this silence further.
Thanks for checking in.

6 months old

2011-05-12T09:21:00.000-04:00

Photo by my momma, tandem gardening!

photo by TammyLove: Della showing some awesome new sitting skills

Dear Della,

it's been 6 months and three days since you emerged and I got to touch your sweet face for the first time. I cannot believe that so much time has passed, how much you've grown, how big you're getting, and how the You that is Della has truly been there since the beginning. You are curious and intent. Your brow furrows in concentration. You also can raise just one eyebrow at a time and flip your tongue over. You love movement, impatiently ready to move on after I sit you down. You make it clear when we've chosen incorrectly or when you're done. You are not a "sit with" baby, or a put down and be baby. I no longer harbor any fantasies about work I can do while you play or sleep. You can play alone, sometimes for long stretches of time, but we never know when those will be... but then there are other things to do or see or put in your mouth. You sleep alone sometimes, but you sleep best on us. Right now, I am typing this love note with one hand while you sleep across me, delicious warm weight, so long now your legs are curled against my side, your face against my skin.

This month has brought the sudden dramatic emergence of two teeth, you're now sitting, scooting backwards, show a true love of the cat. You eat bananas and LOVE them, pulling my fingers toward your mouth.

You are insanely beautiful, laugh at your dad with true deserved delight, and have eyelashes that are ridiculously long.

To say I love you is so inadequate it is silly. I am humbled by my own perpetual unknowing, my needing to trust myself and us that we'll figure it out.

You are teaching me so much about my own heart.

the M word, two teeth, and quitting my day job

2011-05-08T19:38:00.007-04:00

My ass has been well and truly kicked by two bottom teeth that decided to arrive without preamble starting thursday night.

We were slow on the uptake, took a return to inconsolable crying as a return of belly issues when, really? white pointy tetons breaking through non stretchy skin in some sort of rapid fire fast forward painful push. Poor sweet kid. One thursday to saturday, the second friday through today so far. Not sure where we are in this moment.

But

Tylenol, orajel... lots and lots of bewildered tears.

Hard days (and nights) I admit, and we're all a bit worse for wear.

This weekend I visited my sister, and my dad was visiting from Denver, and it was a wonderful fabulous love fest. Driving away was horrible. Dad got to meet Della in real life (we've skyped) and I am not sure anything could be cooler than that. I will have photos but not today. Soon.

The past two weeks I've spent every tiny scrap of time and energy I had making the house ready...packing things up and taking them to the basement. Friday "they" came and took photos of the house and put up a sign. Gosh darn. That's all I'll say about that.

And

other big (immense, colossal, life changing and please-god-life-improving) news: I looked deeply into my heart, put on my big girl pants, gathered my courage and all of the frayed edges of my self esteem and gave notice at work. My last day will be the end of June. I'll work three days a week until then starting this week. I will be writing more about this I am sure.

Today is Mother's day, holy shit. I hardly know what to say about that either. Except, even hip deep in this particular pile of poop, I could not be luckier than to have Doug and Della in my life. And, believe me, I know it with each grateful breath. I am still stunned at my luck. I would not trade any decision I have ever made that would have deviated me from the path to this moment: Doug singing to Della, christmas lights around the window, the sky darkening slowly but still bright enough to see up through the skylight at the webwork of inky branches holding clusters of buds like hopes and wishes.

another photo

2011-04-30T18:25:00.004-04:00

So, hello!

This past week has been intense. The breast issue, work, shit sleep, then a crazy rush to get the house ready for photos with only two days warning- almost impossible and very stressful and crazy. Actually, it turns out it Was impossible to get it done so I rescheduled the photos to next week. It is very hard to do things half assed, but I know that I need to learn this- for sanity maybe, for just simply getting things done.

I am not a perfectionist, but I have high standards and it is hard to let myself do "enough" and not keep some bizarre expectation of "as well as I can"-- and I always suck at taking context into account.

I have a baby, a beautiful spirited wonderful interactive hands-on baby. This is not a put down in a playpen baby, or sit for longer than a minute in a bouncy chair baby. She is great in a front carrier, but front carriers are not conducive to carrying anything else.

So-- with this, my mom came and helped beyond measure by being with Della while I ran in circles. Piles of crap into boxes, into the basement, into some semblance of order. Push it back, neaten it up, clean the surfaces. Try not to freak out.

Like almost every project there is a mess making stage. You know the one, right? It happens in my painting, my writing, almost any project where ideas are swirling, and have not quite jelled. First there is mess making. Then, there is a reassembly, a re-creation, a putting back together. Thursday was a coming apart, mess making day. Friday was a little more of a coming back together day but my oh my there is so much left to do.

Today was an errands day

and now, a rest evening. I am wiped out. I realize that there are Things I Have To Do and there are a whole bunch of things that can wait. Right now I am trying to learn to let things that can wait, wait. I am trying.

Amazing lovely Della is asleep in this moment on Doug.

She is miraculous, sitting almost by herself, standing with very little guidance, blowing raspberries which is hysterical. This week was hard on her too with belly upset from my antibiotics and shit sleep as a result.

My Dr follow-up yesterday resulted in no more of those, since I am now happily clear and fine. Possible yeast infection in one nipple, are you kidding me? Time will tell. And we talked supplementation for milk supply if it does not bounce back. All I need to do is call if monday comes and pumping shows that supply is still low. (bless her).

But, as of today, happily bellies feel better, and I am hoping our night will be more peaceful. She is insanely beautiful, I swear I could just watch her all the time. But I think that sounds creepy. Honest? Absolutely. But creepy.

gratuitous della picture

2011-04-28T18:13:00.002-04:00

from today!

mom took this one-- 5 and a half months is all about curiosity...

quiet resolution

2011-04-26T16:34:00.004-04:00

Praise god/goddess/all-that-is,

I am better.

A day of rest+heat+Della+antibiotics= quiet resolution.

I quite expected drama when they released: explosion, firehose, fire extinguisher, whipped cream can thingy....

but, really, just quiet resolution, which is somewhat startling.

I did also get a cabbage, but know it can also decrease production and I am feeling very watchful about that right now.

Tomorrow I head back to work and pump, and we'll see how I do. I am hoping for more than yesterday, even if it is less than *optimal*.

I'm still not a high supply gal, just barely enough most of the time, and I am just going to have to stay calm about that.

I have a post brewing in my head about things that work and things I've liked...so with luck we'll be on to a new topic soon!

Seriously, thank you all- I look forward to visiting some new blogs (you delurkers) in the near future, but in the meantime please accept my gratitude.

ductal hell, part deux

2011-04-25T19:10:00.003-04:00

First: THANK YOU

thank you for delurking to help with suggestions and kindness, how cool to see new names in my inbox! how cool to see familiar names in my inbox too! how crappy that ANYONE EVER has to have this stupid thing happen.

Here's the update: still blocked, iron boob, truly shitty painful terrible bad bad bad

Doc appointment this afternoon, and I am doing all the right stuff. No infection but now on anti biotics, just keep doing what I'm doing which is everything I can think of. Will stay home tomorrow to work on this little project since being at work is not conducive to extra pumping or any other anything including rest.

I just tried the jelly jar technique from kellymom. com. Wow. Simple, weird, did not fix it but will do it again. No pain, just weird. Low tech fun.

I'll be nursing the baby often enough so she'll be sick of it.

Pumping today showed a terrible decline in production (half) so that is scary and made me feel panicky.

Doc said that worst case (besides infection) would be that the ducts do not clear, milk would mostly reabsorb eventually, and those ducts would not be productive. Which would suck shit.

So-- with luck, this will clear by my next appointment which is on friday afternoon.

I'll keep you posted for sure.

Thanks again, truly, for all of the suggestions. I wish there were some outer evidence of the blockage, a blister or plug, but it is all deeper than that so far. I'll keep hoping.

ductal hell

2011-04-24T20:28:00.003-04:00

Hello! Thank you for the wonderful anniversary wishes. This weekend we actually did go to Maine friday for the day and night for Doug's work and but had a nice dinner for our anniversary. Saturday was cold enough to have been wedding weather!

I am having a seriously un-fun issue: blocked ducts. Please help me.

I have tried steaming, showering, soaking, warming, ibuprofen, massage (GOD AWFUL PAIN), expressing, pumping (even on max, nada), feeding the baby every hour or two, prayer...

I have no fever, no red lines. My breast is not hot, not red. But it has a lemon sized lump on one side (toward armpit) and another keylime sized one toward center.

I have dangle fed that baby, put both of us in insane positions to try to help. There is no obvious anything on the nipple that would indicate a surface obstruction.

So please, please help me.

What now? What next? I will call the doc tomorrow but would love some kind words.

This is seriously painful and frustrating and scary and a bit more than I can handle on top of everything else. This is now the end of day 2.

anniversary

2011-04-17T12:07:00.004-04:00

Wind and rain and cold, almost like the day we married!

Want to see more? Now that we are not trying to be private here, here is the link to the amazing photos from the insanely talented and totally lovely Susan Mullen!

What a year it's been. Holy moly.

While there are (many) things I would change if I could, there are some things I would do all over again without hesitation,

standing on that bluff that cold day, snow spitting down on us...

bundled under my dress in a turtleneck, long johns and wool socks, and cozied with a big sweater and scarf, dang it was cold

there I was, pregnant with Della,

marrying Doug.

I would do it again in a second.

paper airplanes

2011-04-16T20:42:00.003-04:00

I just finished the second pile of paperwork for the house sale process, and I am feeling raw. So I am rewarding myself with you and chocolate chip cookies (gluten free but hey, still chocolate chip).

This makes my head feel swimmy. I hate going through the old papers, remembering how I felt when I bought the place. The fear and optimism.

here I am

fear and optimism.

So, on a happier note, a delightful networking meeting on Friday, heartening, heartwarming, hope-inspiring. No quick fixes, no one trying to save me, just knowing that a connection was made that matters.

Today was cold and windy, I wanted to play outside, in the garden, take a walk, MOVE but the cold kept me inside, and finally this afternoon I actually slept for a few hours.

I cannot tell you that I woke refreshed, that would be a blatant lie. I did not even feel better. But I feel better knowing I slept if that makes any sense.

The wind is still howling

but the pages are printed,

tomorrow they will be signed

and scanned

and sent

and somehow, this one step is just one more I do not have to take again.

I had sort of gotten paralyzed by this project, knowing it was going to suck. But somewhere I realized I could say "I don't know" and that was ok, that I was not going to get extra points finding obscure dates and facts for things that will likely be repeated (water testing for example).

Letting it go a little let me get on with it, and let me finish what I had to for now.

During my lunch meeting yesterday I relearned something important: when it is just me, I am willing to risk more, try more things, make messes, imagine things differently, but when I begin to worry about how I might be perceived, I freeze up, panic that my good will not be good enough. I am at my best when I am just being and am not playing stand-in third party critical observer at the same time. Obvious? Oh yeah, but what was not obvious is that I wear the third party critical observer like a parrot, like an angel, like a devil, like a weird sentient epaulet.

Tonight when I lie in bed trying to sleep, I will imagine the paperwork as kites, as maché, as paper airplanes, as peace cranes.

Ouroboros

2011-04-13T19:51:00.004-04:00

Today it rained all day and was not cold, and I can almost watch the snow vanishing.

It was a heavy day, but beautiful, truly. Buds are swelling on nearly every branch and I can only imagine that one warm day it will explode in color. Already the buds are changing how the woods appear, thickening the branches.

Today I went out in the world with Della, twice... I acted "as if" I knew what I was doing, walked with purpose, held her in my arms not in the car seat.

I think it is amazing just how the feeling of not knowing what I'm doing persists. And I guess it makes sense to feel this way since I've never done any of this before. And yet, now I know that if jiggling and dancing does not work, then she is tired or hungry, and I just need to check my memory for which one was longest ago.

I know she likes movement, and things to examine. Now she likes things to hold and rumple. Cape Cod potato chip bags RULE (thisbagisnotatoy I promise she is never unattended).

Today was so many smiles and such intensity as she watched people, touched their hair, looked at the lights on the ceilings.

Remember when I could not imagine *ever* going out? Now I can imagine it, and now I know tricks to how to make it more successful. Even those tricks do not always work, but they do often enough to make me feel armed with potentially helpful information. See me? Doing this?

The past two days Della has rolled over, front to back, I missed it of course.

And today, she bounced and jumped and danced in her doorway bouncy seat! Total glee (for me and for her!) I still remember loving my jolly jumper when I was little. I do not care if it is a true memory or a photo-induced memory, I remember glee.

My best dreams, still, are ones where I can bounce really high.

Anyway, she has stood and swiveled in the bouncy seat before, but today, for whatever reason, she bounced.

I've been thinking a lot about infertility and how it changes us.

How I hope beyond words that I do not always feel somehow broken, somehow less-than, somehow "other".

I want Della to feel strong and capable and am thinking about my feelings and my own behavior and what I want to model for her. I want her to feel strong, not fragile. Whole, not broken.

I also am trying to pay attention to where my energy is going. And with that, trying to see if I can change where I am spending my attention, and what spin I am giving my story.

I've been thinking a lot about how challenges can become obsessive, even those without direct solutions. You know that snake eating its own tail? Ouroboros?

To kick myself out of the unending cycle of memory and regret and the whole roads-not-taken contemplation that can eat your soul with fava beans and a fine chianti...I've been actively reframing.

To wit: I've been thinking a lot about how amazingly grateful I am that I had the job I had when I had it so I could justify doing just that one last IVF (knowing I would pay it off someday, and I still know I will just maybe someday longer in the future) otherwise we would not have Della, which, truly is unimaginable. She is my heart. And, to be honest, I am grateful too, to have this time with her.

We might not all sleep through the night ever again. But you know what? Totally worth it.

other people's gardens

2011-04-12T21:05:00.003-04:00

In my "note from the universe" today, there was a sweet message that basically distills down to this: why spend your time wishing for and wanting what other people have when you can discover and tend what you have that is truly yours.

I drove into work today noticing that the snow was, rather suddenly, mostly gone after yesterday's crazy warm weather and a night of warm wind. The horses were out waiting for hay, all wooly from the long winter. Right now everything seems to be shades of brown, but when you take a closer look, all of a sudden you notice the rice paper leaves of the beech trees, or the russet branches in the apple orchard, the buds on the maples are rosy too, and the birch catkins are the palest cream. Willows are downright yellow, and in my garden? A riot of purple crocuses that look like the tiniest iris. And chives! Green fingers pushing up through the bad-mannered neighbor that is the creeping thyme.

So while there is mud and hibernating grass and heaps of fallen branches, sticks, twigs, acorns, oakleaves, and gravel covered stubborn heaps of snow.... there is color too. At 8 tonight the sky was light enough to see the outlines of the trees.

It has been a really horribly tough few weeks, but in between the crushing sadness, I have moments of something that feels like hope, and I want so badly to string those together to fortify my heart.

The house is not on the market yet, but it will be. I am up to my neck in paperwork, and if I never have to do another hardship letter in my whole life, that will not be too soon. I cannot tell you how awful that was. But

it was.

past tense. It is done.

Requests came today for more information, more things to fill out, more things to find.

It will get done, and I know it will not be a forever project.

There's a gift in all of this: losing the house means losing the reason I need to get a JOB, the all caps job that means long hours and bigger pay-- not that I was finding those options anyway with my weird niche expertise, my otherwise generalist nature, and my too-long-at-my-old-company. But now I am free to look at work differently, to look for something I want to do and can do well. Something or things I would enjoy. I am looking into consulting, into writing, into coaching, into...... who knows? Once the house moves on to its next owner, one who will love it for the obscene bargain it will be, I can move on too.

***

Della is 5 months old, laughter, light, babble, DROOL, wiggling arms and legs, pure and total delight. She is smart and strong and funny. She looks at me, into me, beyond me... she grabs and holds and drops things rather randomly. She loves things that rumple and crinkle, loves the taste of banana and oatmeal from my fingertips, she laughs out loud at her dad's funny faces, and her face lights up when she sees him. She is tender one moment, inadvertently maybe, a hand on my cheek, and my heart melts. Then she bites down hard during nursing, iron gums, and pulls back, and I swear and she cries and I feel horrid. She no longer cries when we sneeze, but looks alarmed when we laugh loudly. She talks and talks and talks which I love.

Me, I am under renovation. Half my hair fell out in clumps and is still coming out in wads that are alarming. I cannot tell you how shitty that is. I am having to have faith it will grow back. I am back in my old pants but lord, not my old shape. That's ok though, I figured the pants would never fit again, so it is like having a new pair. I am trying to do yoga each non work day. But it is more for strength than calm these days. Plank while wearing baby in bjorn. Strength under squish. Skin on face is wrecked from stress I bet, and I find I am healing slowly. I am sick again with razor throat then gloopy snot. I think though that this is part of some sort of old-life sloughing. As I move through this, toward whatever is next, I hope that there will be less sleepless obsessing, more time outside, more time breathing, more time creating again (not on the phone with banks please). I look forward to the garden, which is both my garden and someone else's. I will not plant new things here, but I will tend. And I will plant a container I think to put near the door, to leave for the next folks, or to bring with us if I choose, when we go.

As someone so wisely said a few posts back, it is impossible to hold on and let go at the same time, but I find myself trying to and rediscovering over and over that I have to let go.

tribe

2011-04-08T20:40:00.002-04:00

I'm blessed people.

And doubly blessed because I know it. I am blessed with friends and family whom I would chose. I have a far flung posse of wonderful supporters, folks who truly send love and wishes for peace in my heart and gently remind me to keep moving toward the things that make me feel the most fulfilled, the least depleted, the happiest, whole-est, most present, most kate.

I have friends, many of whom I have not even met yet all over this country and in the UK, who offer a kind of kindred spirit, soul food, uncomplicated love...

I wanted to write about the importance of finding your tribe, or letting them find you. There are folks who resonate immediately who you know are going to matter, about whom you feel a bit shy when you realize they are looking at you, paying attention, pulling for you... there are folks who come at exactly the right moment with exactly the right message... there are folks who call you out when you're doing self harm in the guise of unconscious habit brought upon by stress, not enough sleep, or anything else that brings old behaviors into current use like a broken down pair of shoes.

Yes, I am struggling right now, but I am being held up and held onto, I am being encouraged and loved, I am being encouraged to be as much of my self as it is safe to be wherever I find myself. And I need to keep moving toward what I know to be true, toward what I know feeds me and brings me joy.

So often, it is not that we don't know what we want, it is just so hard to give ourselves permission to do it. And sometimes, we also have to ask for help.

I want to paint more, so am looking for a simple and safe baby backpack-- anyone have an old one that you loved but have outgrown that you'd be willing to sell me or exchange for a painting?

Please keep reminding me of who I am, and that I am in here no matter what it may seem, no matter how high the heap-o-crap gets.

This house thing sucks ass. I mean it. I have been through worse, of course, and this will somehow come and go and I will not be destroyed by this. We will not be homeless. We will move together toward the next thing, and by stepping away from this, I will be able to step toward things that grow my heart and ease my soul, and I am fighting so hard to let myself feel hopeful in the midst of this sad, this disappointment, this bewilderment.

My friends, all of you, my family, all of you, thank you. I am so grateful for all of you. Truly.

home base

2011-04-06T10:18:00.005-04:00

How bizarre! this post just evaporated.

So this time, no preamble, just a gift from Laura to me, from me to you:

Monday greetings!

"All that is gold does not glitter,

not all those who wander are lost;

the old that is strong does not wither,

deep roots are not reached by the frost."

(J.R.R. Tolkien)

In other words:

So many of us are less confident on the inside than we might appear

on the outside, so despite what you see, remember...you're not alone.

Just because you're not exactly sure where your headed

doesn't mean you're not on the right path. Faith, trust, and short powerful steps rock!

Tending your mental, emotional, spiritual and physical strength is the best offense...

Because when you do, no matter what life throws at you,

you might wobble, but you will not fall down!

This week, Kate, your Life Leadership challenges are as follows: stay focused on home base (aka, you). If you feel lost, focus on what you do know, and ask for the next right step. It willalways lead you in the right direction, and there will always be another next right step just beyond that one, but you may not be able to see it yet! And always, always choose what will contribute to your inner and outer fortitude, and exercise those things every day, with every choice.

Wishing you focus, trust, strength and resilience this week!

Laura

Laura Neff, CPCC, PCC

www.LifeLeadershipCentral.com

Laura@LifeLeadershipCentral.com
704.237.0782

1400 Oakdale Road, Charlotte, NC 28216, USA

today? snow

2011-04-02T20:25:00.003-04:00

Snowy day, with the biggest flakes falling

and rain

and tiny snowflakes

and rain

and snow again

I was up at 3am, until 4:30 trying to shush my busy and not-at-all-productive mind.

Yesterday I felt somehow resigned, today raw. I kept moving and kept feeling like tears were just below the surface, just below like one breath away.

I drove by dublin lake with its fresh layer of snow on the ice, and the wind has already made ripples and the melt patterns underneath were showing through, and it was so incredibly beautiful. And the sky! The north sky was dark and deep and moody like a july evening gathering for a thunderstorm, but all it brought was rain

and snow

and rain

and snow

I'm ok, just flailing a bit. More than a bit. A big, olympic flail.

Realtor wednesday, to talk about a short sale.

Our only real option. I feel like I'm watching myself break all my rules, one by one. It is an interesting exercise in redefinition.

better late than never

2011-03-31T20:56:00.003-04:00

remember me? smallish? big smile? reddish? overwhelmed?

Yeah, that would be me.

So-- I've been consumed by trying to find options to my current financial/housing crisis. I've talked with 5-6 banks, 2 financial advisors and a lawyer, two realtors... and

finally

I think I have a direction, however uncomfortable.

I have another meeting next week before deciding but it feels like progress.

In the meantime, remember the ice dam damage? A swarm of folks have been in the house this week, walls back up, mudded and taped, sanded, primed, painted.... dust everywhere (and I do mean everywhere on every little thing)-- almost done but intense in this small space. Yesterday I escaped from it and went to see my mom. They'll be done monday. Praise the gods.

I think it is *ironic* that the house is coming apart, my shit is piled everywhere, it is completely undone, trashed, and being repaired.... no, not ironic, symbolic.

It has been easier to imagine leaving when it was in pieces. And now, as it comes back into some semblance of order, if I keep the personal stuff to a minimum, I may be able to maintain some fantasy that I am just staying here not living here and that may help me disengage a little. I am VERY enmeshed in place, as you can imagine having read me here for any time at all.

Being here, in this house, was a life affirming brave act when I bought it. It was me, saying I was worth having a life that was my own for perhaps the first time in my adult life. I've been playing in the garden for 5 years, planting, moving, creating a wildness of perennials that heap over the sides and draw butterflies and hummingbirds and my joyful heart. I used to come home and pat the side of the house as I entered, thanking it for housing me and loving it That much.

Letting it go is hard. hard hard hard. But it also will allow me to move forward.

Erin, remember the whole trapeze thing?

yeah, watch me, letting go. Maybe not this swing, maybe not even the next one. But it is coming and necessary even if I am not ready.

Della is a wonder- coming up on 5 months old now, can you believe it?

She is bigger every day, a big smile, a big laugh, a wonderful big personality. She delights me to my core. Please universe help me so I can keep present please please please I do not want to miss one second of this, especially when I am so lucky to be *right here*.

Photos soon, I promise.

playing by ear

2011-03-20T16:04:00.004-04:00

Della got my ick and this week was a week of snot and chest coughs, a trip to the doc (she's fine) and disrupted sleep. It has also been a week of her talking talking talking (LOVELY), babble that sounds like language, loudly! with lots of tongue. She is adorable beyond words, beyond the snot, and I am completely smitten.

I am still snotty and coughing, and the headaches, oh my. So apparently, this is a full 2 week bug and I now officially invite it to leave, thankyouverymuch. Don't let the door hit you, etc etc.

I've been quite quiet here and on the internet in general lately, and I am so sorry to not be out and about and reading and commenting. I am in the midst of a rather concerted push for alternatives for work stuff and house stuff, and when I am free-ish (like now) I generally spend it frantically researching, calling, writing, and feeling a wide range of things from despair to something more like resignation.

I'm pooped, people.

So--on a happy note creatively speaking, I sold two paintings (thank you loved ones!) and got some cards printed but not yet posted, and some prints made but they arrived oddly sized so I will crop them and post them soon I hope. They are not what I wanted so they'll be discounted. I look forward to more painting in my future, but that will need to wait until the little one is in a backpack. Right now she touches all I touch, amazing. I actually can't wait to paint with her.

We still have snow almost everywhere, and some quite deep. The garden is being uncovered slowly, and seed heads are emerging, and I am imagining that soon there will be greening. We walked today, and it was colder than I expected, and I felt myself holding myself tightly. I am looking forward to walks where my body just moves, and I am unaware of it.

I keep dreaming I am back in school, and I guess I am.

A year ago, I went to an amazing workshop in NYC led by the incomparable Jen Lee, and met a wonderful woman, Helen, who plays piano and teaches among many other fiercely and fabulously creative endeavors. (Please go see her site, she is hosting a getaway in the Moors in August). She and I had a wonderful visit as part of the workshop, and, in talking, it came about that she had been classically trained as a pianist, but did not know how to play by ear. Then she discovered an online class, and indeed DID learn to play by ear, and it freed her to express her own music-- and now she teaches other people to do the same. Well, I cried, actually. I had not known how attached I was to the idea that I could never be musical because I cannot play an instrument, cannot read music, cannot carry a tune, and am non-rhythmic. But, there she was saying it was possible. Knowing it was possible. And I felt my heart crack open against all that I thought that I knew.

Fast forward to now: Here I am, improvising. A life so tightly held, planned to avoid possible losses and other out-of-control-nesses, carefully tended, broken open, knocked askew, not what I expected, house stuff and work stuff, wondrous baby stuff and Doug stuff, my creative self yearning, my reality and pragmatic selves barking orders and waving frantically, and me?

IMPROVISING

so I lay in bed last night and told Doug, when I thought I would learn to play by ear, I guess I just did not expect it to be EVERYTHING.

IF, food issues and other vices. Oh, and snot.

2011-03-11T10:55:00.005-05:00

Thanks so much for the comments!

I wonder about IF, body image, and food addiction/issues.... It seems to be more common than not, doesn't it?

I certainly see it in myself, but I also did before IF too- I've always been an emotional eater, a carbmonger, a major binger, (although not a purger). I would binge and then have massive regret. Heck I still do (clearly) once I find an allowed treat. I binge. I scarf. I tazmaniandevil my way through an entire bag. All at once. And want more.

Since I've been off of gluten and dairy, most of the objects of my desire have been relegated to the category of dangerous (I am not missing colitis one bit)-- but I dream of pizza, croissants, bread... um bread... toasted cheese sandwiches, you get the point I am sure.

Alfredo sauce.

But I digress.

The point is, if I *could* binge without immediate fallout I would. Even though I know I shouldn't. I have no doubt it was odd timing, odd luck in some way that colitis forbade me to eat the stuff I love the most. Since this happened only a year into IF treatments, I did not create new associations with IF and food specifically except to be bummed about not being able to eat the things I KNEW would make me feel better, full, whole... whatever.

I used to use hiking as my reward. Not to be virtuous but because it worked for me- truly. Not any workout would do. You'll never catch me doing a crunch. I hate exercise exercise. But I love my hike.

I wonder if I am now making up for my not being able to eat what I want with bizarre shopping weirdness-- trying to make up for something using a different yet no less addictive or damaging tool.

Read this article in a 2009 O magazine that included the following concise insight: if you are trying to acquire More perhaps you are feeling Lessthan. And that pretty much stopped me dead in my tracks. I realized in that moment that I am trying to fill a void (uncertainty, unsettledness) with... what, the magic elixir that will help me create more milk? The optimal teething ring? The book that will answer all of my questions, change my life for the better, and set me on the immediate path for lifelong happiness, sufficient wealth, and the best possible relationship with my amazing family?

Magical thinking takes the form of more than cupcakes.

***

Wild change in topic-- wild turkeys in my yard today, they seem GIANT and I always imagine them as little dinosaurs. Even when I am not feverish.

So this flu thingy that laid me low is truly lousy. I hope all of you avoid it. I am imagining a ball of protective golden light around Della and Doug, hoping hoping that through some miracle, they do not get this. It really sucks.

5

2011-03-08T22:07:00.002-05:00

So, some days it is all about the cookies.

Today, the bakery had just 5.

These are my congratulations you made it cookies that I have (apparently) become addicted to as a reward for making it through work.

PathetiKate. I know. What are they? French macaroons. Almondy yumminess. Two bites each, perfection, naughtiness.

Just 5, I say, sadly, just 5.

Does anyone out there do this too? Set up a reward system to help make it through tough or daunting or just irritating times? Do you have any wholesome or embarrassing "rewards" you'd care to share? Feel free to be anonymous on this one. I'm curious if I am the only one.

on carriages and pumpkins

2011-03-07T12:14:00.003-05:00

I am at home today, all razor throat and snottiness day 3. Not pretty. I do not fold easily, and damn, I give, it wins.

I was up a lot last night thinking, THINKING thinking thinking.

Thinking about how, let's call it interesting, shall we? how interesting it is to be on the downhill slope from a season of nearly unconscious enoughness.

When I first bought the house, I was making good enough money to make up for whatever misgivings I might have had about my job, career, etc. I was able to do things- fly to see my dad in Denver, fix the car, fill the oil tank. Bigger projects took some planning and foresight, some accumulation, but I could do them. I'd been in big debt before, and had dug out, twice in fact. One was immense stupidity debt that I brought on myself trying valiantly and futilely to buy someone's happiness. Actually, now that I think about it, the second wave was the same as the first (some lessons are learned harder than others). But my point is that I had enough money to not be worried about in-the-moment money. I was also only in debt with the house, which, I hoped, would become my main investment. And that is where my money was going.

OK first, YES I do realize how lucky I was! (and am!)-- at the time, single, childless, good paycheck... in some ways very lucky. In others, not as much.

Enter reality, stage left.

So, in real life, we are now well and truly screwed, immense fertility debt taken on (would not change it) since I did not have time to accumulate in those days of wine (whine, is more like it) and roses (thorns aplenty), and house underwater (literally, wet basement today, and figuratively, as it is now worth less than we owe), and job dwindling....savings finite and small, clock ticking.

I am in the pumpkin phase of this. Don't get me wrong, I like pumpkins, love them actually. But getting back onto the panicked-about-money rollercoaster sucks ass. I'm just sayin'. Truth be told, today there is nothing new, no trigger event, no anniversary, just the ongoing and fast-growing realization that no matter what magical thinking I apply, reality is winning.

So universe, I hear you. I cannot act as if it is not happening. But I also know that panic is not going to help solve the problem.

Erin, your thoughtful link to the quote about the trapeze was right on target- there is a moment between, when letting go, when you have to *trust* that there will be something. But when you are in between, really, all you can be is in between. Scary.

Lovely commenter in Maine, thank you! Thank you for the link to the family center in Portland. Looks like I might just be in the neighborhood this summer and it is great to have such a wonderful recommendation.

All in all, Mr. Pumpkin (this one feels male), I'm just trying to gather my thoughts. This blog is often the place I think of to record and sift and rant. So for now? I declare this episode of miscellaneous katebabble complete.

messages from the universe

2011-03-03T08:32:00.002-05:00

So I get a few newsletters and over the past few weeks some messages have been coming, that are also showing up in books I am reading, and things I am hearing both from the inside and outside... I keep hoping to write them here but time does not support that idea, so I decided to try to capture them as they come in.

So today

this one came in my daily my Note from the Universe (edited by me..)

"... boy, Kate, aren't they gonna be shocked when they realize that all along they were, in fact, the person they had always dreamed of becoming?..."

www.TUT.com

Hm, I say. Hm.

110 days

2011-02-27T16:43:00.002-05:00

110 days since Della arrived, screaming, certainly, and wildly PRESENT and ACCOUNTED FOR.

I cannot tell you how my heart has been split wide open

and my world has been rocked

and how nearly everything I thought about who I am, what I can handle, what I think or what I know has been questioned (not badly, but deeply)

and how, finally, after years of finding myself deep in the throes of self torture at 4am, now it is nursing time, a time when I stare at the amazing curve of her cheek, or the wash of eyelashes that seem to grow longer as I watch.

4am and I watch the sky for softness and imagine it might be snowing, or see pin prick stars, or the brightest sliver of moon.

I cannot tell you what this year (now reviewed thanks to taxes, good grief) has meant for me, and how as I look ahead I feel a pull between panic (outright, abject, immediate) and some sort of longer term concern, standing on a melting ice floe, wondering what will come next.

Doug took a job that will take him/us to Maine this summer. This is an opportunity I might take advantage of to leave my current job even though it means financial hardship, (it is eventual anyway, and may be their choice come June no matter what I might hope for otherwise....) a clean break and a way for us all to stay together. I have done long distance. I have done split time. I have done two houses. I have done it and have no need to do it again, not right now, not with Della who changes every minute.

The house will go on the market this spring, after repairs are complete and the new roof is on. We will load our clutter into bags and boxes, and clean, and try to exit stage left with as much dignity and soul intact as possible. I know it is the right thing, but it is not the easy thing. This would have happened either way.

The baby is having a fussy day, an impatient day, and me, I am done with gathering papers for the tax guy

I did my best, it is not *complete* but it is as complete as I can make it. It is a big, fat envelope, and chronicles our last IVF, ultrasound by ultrasound. And even holding the amazing squirming beautiful stunning outcome in my arms, I still cannot believe it.

So, lots happening here, quick changes that came up and needed decisions, and some things put off that were needing attention, and here we are, adventuring. And me? Breathing into a bag.

I wanted to write about universal messages, about jumping off, about how a string of book reading and random emails came all saying the same thing-- about trusting, about jumping, about beginning.

shhhh

2011-02-18T18:57:00.003-05:00

not wanting to jinx anything here but

even with the crappiest week of sleep in months (up too late, up too early)

and with a rather high stress level

the past 3 days with Della have been more harmonious.

Harmonious=much much less crying. I've made some changes: stopped my prenatal vitamin; and now I immediately change what I am doing at the first sign of fussing-- keep trying different things until no fussing. What this means is that I am in near constant motion while she is awake (bouncing, dancing, walking), I bounce her to sleep (no kidding, first yawn, I am ON THE BALL), I rock her while she is sleeping unless it was a nurse-to-sleep... and, well, it's all working (praise god, goddess, all-that-is), at least, in this moment. And it is wonderful wonderful wonderful.

There is no sitting with the baby stuff of movies and the coffee shop fantasy. But... I get it. This is what it is.

Today we walked twice, taking advantage of this amazing weather, nearly 60 degrees. Sunshine on my face, warm wind, cold snow, but the smell of spring, and the bluest sky, and the wind roaring in the trees.

It was a melt day.

Only one new leak found. Yesterday was insurance adjuster visit day, goodness gracious that man was here for 3 hours. But.... and... there's a check and we can fix the holes once the threat of new leaks is over for the season.

So, about work....

I can say this: wednesday mornings, I put on my Just Be True Jen Lee t-shirt, and remind myself to be true to my own self. It is about changing focus and heart-attention as quickly as I can from work out there (hands waving) to work in here (hand on heart).

My sister has encouraged me to open an etsy store with my 5 (count'em!) paintings, so I am in the middle of setting that up.

And, really, with this particular life structure, one of the other reasons for my increased peace with Della, I think, comes from not trying to do anything else. I don't read many blogs very often right now, and rarely comment (SO SORRY!)-- I just don't have the time I want to put in that direction. Right now is a weird survival mode, and with that comes minimal multi tasking.

But on weekends I sneak a little more time-- like this, to post. Or last weekend to go see my writing group (with Della so it was not really sneaking-- and she cried the whole hour ride back good lord). And tomorrow, maybe to go on some errands alone. Or maybe to etsy or update my leadership blog or.... but

this is about ORs these days, not ANDs, and I am realizing how letting go of trying to do too many things (when more than one is too many), I suddenly found a little peace.

Della is laughing, and rolled onto her side over and over and over for 20 minutes on wednesday. And these moments I would not want to miss for Anything.

Della photos

2011-02-12T13:30:00.003-05:00

Images from yesterday. Oh my goodness.

Della's cool and unusual asian-themed outfit is a gift from a beloved cousin. She looks downright smashing in it, don't you think?

And here I am, with my little one perched atop an exersize ball. We spend a lot of time in ergonomically questionable (if not downright nightmarish) positions and postures (aka me, bending forward like a "C"). I try to make up for it by stretching, often.

Della is an outfacing baby with me, in-facing with sweet Tammy, a crook of the arm baby with Doug... At 3 months she now loves the bjorn (I love that she loves it), is enjoying minutes at a time in her new bouncy seat (a cheapo that I really like-- my bouncy seat of choice when I was a little one was a jolly jumper), she loves practicing standing, being carried by anyone willing to dance and bounce (hard please), she smiles more and more and more, a delightful lopsided grin with dimples, talks (a lot) and giggles (a little), and still has fucking colicky times that I hate beyond measure. Last night, several hours of unhappiness followed by an hour of blood curdling demon baby screams and a big, big sleep. Then sometime near morning, a wonderful cuddle with me, she turned to tuck her head up under my chin and I barely dared to breathe since I did not want to accidentally dispel the magic. She is feisty and smart, curious, impatient, easily frustrated,wiggly, charming, and insanely cute. She has a glint in her gray eyes that hints strongly of a future of mischievousness. We are doomed.

44

2011-02-11T08:14:00.003-05:00

Last year I was one day post-transfer, praying to the last chance fertility gods and not quite daring to hope.

In the past year, I have gotten and stayed pregnant with a miraculous and wonderful baby girl, gotten (and stayed) married to the most amazing man on the most beautiful bluff, lost a big part of my job and, in that instant, a huge chunk of stability and identity, spent a summer mired in stressed out job uncertainty and a parade of one crazy terrifying pregnancy complication after another. I worried about selling the house in a market filled with auction houses and we realized we had to wait if at all possible.

Summer turned to fall and I (finally) gave birth to Della over the course of a few days, with first snow flying and birch trees outside the window that I did not see until it was over. Breastfeeding was a nightmare at first, delayed milk, trauma of a hungry baby and a body that was in shock from surgery, compounded with badly timed bad advice. By the time it was working I felt broken.

I spent two months at home with Della and Doug, using my vacation time, learning how to be This kate, this one who is in a constant state of not knowing.

At the turn of the new year, I lost half of my job again, and realized This kate, this one, this one wants more.

if I am trading time with Della for it, work needs to provide more. At least, I sure want it to. We began to think about putting the house on the market in the spring, realizing the likelihood of a short sale, since my income no longer covers the mortgage.

Then water came in the walls and the ceiling in 4 out of 5 rooms, pieces and parts have been ripped down, and now,

we are in a state of in-between-ness. Rebuilding waiting until after ice season so we only have to do this once.

And today, after one of the most amazing and difficult and transformative years of my life where just about everything I knew changed, today, I turn 44.

one year ago today

2011-02-07T19:36:00.002-05:00

One year ago today, Della began in a petrie dish in Waltham Massachusetts.

4 eggs retrieved (oh, how I had hoped for more...)

2 fertilized

1 turned into beautiful, miraculous Della.

Here's to bucking the odds.

Dear belly: a love letter (of sorts)

2011-01-30T15:11:00.006-05:00

Dear Belly,

I am sorry it has been so long since I have said nice things to you.

Please know, that even at our worst, even when we were fighting all the time, I would not change any choice I made to get us here.

But that does not mean it has not been hard.

Very hard.

It has been 11 weeks since Della came, and at first, I thought I would hate you forever.

You were still big and full and not very doughy, just 8 months or more pregnant looking even though the baby was out and beautiful and in our arms.

The first three weeks were the hardest, since you stayed late term maternity-huge without budging. I wore my maternity pants with no alternatives, and avoided my profile. I could not see my feet, and had to lift you out of the way to catch a glimpse of my new scar to check for healing.

Then, miraculously, you began to recede. I felt impatient, kept stepping on the scale even though my weight was nearly down to pre-pregnancy. Within a few more weeks, my maternity pants were beginning to be big. By week 5, I was hiking them up, but no other pants, not even my fat pants fit. My stretchy pants were too tight too. Awkward inbetween-ness, I just wanted to have you be gone. I would sit and grab you in my hands like bread dough (you'd gotten softer and softer), and feel my own revulsion. Gosh, what a waste of energy better spent nearly any other way.

At 6 weeks I looked the same as I did at around 5 or 6 months.

At 7 weeks I bought pants that fit me as I was, not as I wanted to be.

Now, at week 11, I fit normal pants, one size up from before. You slob over the top a little, and my profile is not at all what I would want, with belly sticking out farther than boobs. But, you have done this amazing thing. You were beyond big with Della on the inside- mammoth in fact. Laughably large. And now, you are down to a protruding doughy jiggle that I am aware of but probably no one else in the world would be when seeing me either again or for the first time. You have done more than I can ask for, at nearly 44 and remarkably inelastic, you have made an incredible journey from way out there to back to the neighborhood again.

Thank you Belly, thank you for not staying as big as you were, and for coming down to the size you are now without effort on my part except, perhaps, the nearly impossibly inhuman effort of patience (I am not known for self patience, I confess)...

If this is what I look like, then, this is what I look like.

Most of the time, I think I can be ok with this.

Love, mostly, and except for sometimes,

Kate

Fairy dust

2011-01-23T19:30:00.002-05:00

Snow on snow on ice on snow. The woods are full and branches heavy. There are frozen drops on the tips of all of the needles on the hemlock branches, and icicles as long as my arm hanging from all of the eaves. I am not sure there is much more beautiful than snow blown free with sunlight streaming in behind it, sparkling fairy dust.

But I am pretty much hating the new roof leaks, the bulging buckled paint, the orange edged stain that is creeping up and across the ceiling, and the feeling that the falling apart is outpacing our ability to keep it together.

It is the weather, I know. The confluence of snow and ice and melt and weight and the odd rules that water follows as it finds its way in. I spent today trying to focus on what is working, being warm and safe, being in the loving presence of my little one, being surrounded by such beauty.

The weekend whooshed by, and suddenly it is sunday night. I am facing monday with a knotted belly and a desire to stay up all night just to stretch the time between now and then. It feels a little night-before-exam-ish. I am looking forward to transforming this feeling into something else, something better, something life affirming, neutral even.

I have two meetings this week and hope to have another next week-- and two more to schedule. Babycare is hard to coordinate since we are not flush with options, but it is possible and I have to remember that and keep moving forward.

I keep having IDEAS and then, soon after, often soon upon sharing it, REASONS IT WILL NOT WORK come flooding in. Yes, I am guilty, I am the source of many of these self imposed smackdowns, but in all fairness, other folks are coming up with what seems to be effortless reasons why things won't work either. The economy is high on the list, as is the usual rule that organizations in trouble do not look outside for guidance or solutions. But, I will keep thinking. I have a new IDEA and am letting it marinate a bit. I'm hopeful that one of these will at least be the beginning, the priming of the pump, the thing that helps me move forward.

For now, hoping for time to slow.

Hoping this unbelievable cold stays outside and out of the pipes.

Hoping that a little epiphany will visit, perhaps not as a Shazam, but a slow unfolding. I sure would welcome either.

some baby pictures and reflections

2011-01-15T18:57:00.006-05:00

A year ago (how is this possible?), I was beginning the last-chance-no-really-this-time-I-mean-it IVF cycle that ended with Della. I drove the route to Waltham on thursday, bringing a friend to a Dr down that way... I waved as I passed the clinic, simply amazed at what a difference a year makes.

This year I find myself mired in gutwrenching workstress and transitions, when all I want is to just simply revel in this beautiful baby and this truly miraculous turn of events. I don't want to be struggling with anything, you know? It is just very hard to let go of such a big (enormous) piece of my life and source of identity.

Every chance I get, I take a deep breath, re-center, refocus, gather myself, look at this amazing person and KNOW where my priorities are. NO matter what else is happening right now, coming apart or in the midst of the messy act of creation, this is exactly where I want to be.

I might continue to be a bit sporadic here while some of my bedrock comes apart and I allow myself at last to truly create a life that supports my heartwork, so I wanted to leave you with some images to tide you over for a bit.

Yes, she really is this cute.

My new blog

2011-01-08T18:37:00.000-05:00

Hi folks, just in case it is of interest to your non IF lives, here's a link to my new blog. Please pass it on it if it feels pertinent. I hope to explore how leaders can be more effective with a very common sense approach. Bite size nuggets only for busy executives... no longwinded posts.

Intuitive Leadership: Talent retention and team optimization in the chan...: "As the economy beings to turn around, companies may find that many of their high quality employees will be looking for other opportunities...."

dragon slaying

2011-01-07T10:33:00.003-05:00

So I got this new software: Dragon dictate (for mac, it is dragon naturally speaking for the PC)- and it rocks. Truly. I cannot say enough good about it unless it were free. I've had one real session using it (training then playing) and was totally impressed. I promise to do a post using it soon so you can see how well it does with my babble.

But here's the story...I was playing with it after the initial training, as I mentioned, and the baby started crying. The super sensitive microphone on the headset (included, huzzah!) picked up her crying from all the way in the other room (granted, the place is small, ceilings are high, and doors are few).. and the sw started writing and and and every time she cried.

Totally cute.

On a sort of separate note, I've been thinking a little more about what it means to be a mom to a fussy baby, especially after spending time with Sprogblogger and her lovely Henry. I think we all just do what we need to, you know? This is my normal. Della is her own self, and emerged that way. And since I have no prior experience, this is it for me, this is what parenting is. I watch an easier baby like Henry with fascination, since he is more budda-like than my little one. Della has a 20 minute attention span when all is well, cries often when frustrated or bored or over stimulated... we have the shitty belly issues (literally and figuratively), but this just IS.

I am thinking of Sarah of Dreams and False Alarms, her two little tiny babies. Her time in NICU, that is what parenting is for her.

I am thinking about all of us with all of our realities, isn't this always true?

My mom said that having two babies (two years apart) was not much of a leg up either since my sister and I were so different. And I imagine that was true.

This week I thanked her for faking it-- for acting as if she knew what she was doing-- I told her I never knew until now that she was making it up every moment.

Della is asleep (!) and I need to get ready for bed.

But you know? this whole life thing, aren't we are just all making it up as best we can as we go along?

Launch party!

2011-01-05T00:01:00.000-05:00

My dear friend Kristin Noelle has a new website launching today! Here's her blurb:

The site is titled Trust Tending, and has the tagline, "Conversations, reflections, and art to nourish Life beyond fear." A sketch will accompany each post, and all of the content will explore the concept and nature of trust, and the power that trust has to help us live into the Lives we most want to live. Moving through blocks, making peace with our bodies and emotions, and pursuing dreams will all be topics that I orbit around. The address is www.kristinnoelle.com

So please go there and support her, she is wonderful, you'll love her, I promise. And you may just find that you'll love yourself just a little bit more too. If one of your resolutions for the new year was to be a little more gentle with yourself, a little more supportive, then please stop by. If you're feeling brave, let her know you came from here!

Happy New Year!

2011-01-04T19:35:00.004-05:00

Happy new year!

I'm glad you liked the last post's poem. I LOVE it and need to remember to go back to it again and again as my courage flags.

And thank you all for the advice on pumping and going back to work. You really helped with strategy and I feel like I can do it. I will pump one extra each non work day and will have plenty to top up the bottles for the days I am at work. I keep feeling like I need to have enough frozen for the apocalypse, but perhaps I should stop thinking like that! (no kidding katekate).

On new year's day I celebrated with a hike up my hill with Miss Della-- not all the way up the hill but close. I followed moose tracks up the trail, slipping and sliding (me), so it was important to go slowly and pay close attention to where I put each foot. Pine needles and tiny pieces of leaves and bark and other tree parts peppered the snow. The moose tracks went all the way down to dirt in many places, the thaw of the day widening the hoof prints to enormous proportions.

My heart was pounding, I was sweaty all the way through all of my clothes, and it felt GREAT.

I stopped when I realized that I was pushing on as a matter of pride,legs heavy, and a very special baby strapped to my body. Pushing onward was silly, I was done. So I stopped for a while, looking out through the trees at the mountains on the far side of the valley, enjoying the soft light (ohhh my) and the peace of being in the woods with nothing but the sound of my own breath, my own heart.

Today I met up with our lovely sprogblogger, got to gawk at her amazingly peaceful bountifully cheeked Henry (gorgeous baby) and just kick back and be my own self in the midst of her amazing library/barn. Honestly, what a great day. Della was fussy as she often is, and had a hard time nursing, so I danced around the room, checked out book titles, and jiggled myself into near oblivion. Then, a major blowout diaper (good lord) and all was better. (Thanks for the handmeovers!)

We're home now with a peaceful and probably overstimulated Della, and I, for one, cannot wait to go back again. Thank you SB! We had a wonderful time!

How fun to have her in the neighborhood. How lucky am I?

Della is 2 months old today, how is that possible? Eyelashes and beautiful smile, hands that reach for toys, and a very busy forehead as she takes it all in with wide gray eyes. I am so honored to be part of this, to be able to watch, to jiggle, to soothe when I can, to witness, and, when possible, to facilitate. She is truly miraculous.

2 months. Time has simply been woooshing by at an insane rate.

I go back to work on monday, down to two days a week now in my ever-shrinking job (better than zero which I feared), and I will simply do the best I can both there (as I always do and always will) AND I will do the best I can with my own future as I create it and as it unfolds. I want so much to create something GREAT and affirming. I'm working on some ideas and hope that they start to coalesce into something coherent. Instead of waiting, I am going to take some action and see what happens. I can always change course if I need to. I want so much to do something I am very good at and enjoy. So...

Tomorrow my mom comes for a few hours, and while she is here-- I will set up my new/old ebay computer in a more comfortable place, put some software on there, and begin.

I wish us all the bravery we need to move forward in the direction of filling our lives with things/experiences/people that we love. Even a small step is a step in the right direction. I think I'll go read that poem again. I could use it right now!

Color outside the lines

2010-12-29T18:51:00.002-05:00

From Livnoutloud.com:

Live a gutsy, self-aware life.

Ignite the spark in your soul and lay down the

tracks to the songs in your heart. Define your reason for being; go deep, soak up your essence,

then honor your authentic self.

Break the chains that bind you.

Free yourself from your self-imposed restrictions

and be courageous towards all that you dread.

Don’t let the fear of judgment quell your spirit.

Proudly flaunt your humanity,

with all its exquisite imperfections.

Experience the edge of life.

Make mistakes. Color outside the lines.

Go to the brim of what is familiar and jump off.

After all, a vibrant life is filled with stops,

starts and stumbles.

Participate in your dreams and have faith.

You are standing on the edge of bliss.

the bottle

2010-12-27T13:20:00.002-05:00

So yeah, the bottle.

Today is a bottle only day from 9-3 or so... we are working up toward full days. It turns out I don't have enough banked in the freezer to do a full day since I started pumping once a day not for banking but for bottle feeding practice, and the amount I was pumping in the beginning was so small it is taking the output of 3 or 4 pumpings to make one feeding.

So... my strategy (guess there wasn't one) wasn't one. So hear me people of the pump-- before you do the pump/bottle only transition as if you are at work again, make sure you bank more than a day's worth so you can make the transition AND have some left over for emergencies. Or you can do the transition on formula.

A confession: I am hating it. The pumping is a little persnickety-- got a GREAT double pump (Medela Freestyle) on super sale. Used cones that were too small for the first month. Got bigger cones and felt a little better. If the flanges are not exactly right, there is no suction which is evil and you have to take it apart and reassemble. I was pumping in the morning, Doug offered a bottle to Della, then I would finish by nursing for a while-- this was a great bridge for both of us-- feeding via bottle then soothing via nursing for both baby and mom. Then we moved to bottles and no soothing in the morning feeding. And today, bottles, no soothing, and I hate not nursing. I miss feeding her. Snuggling. I hate what it means (to me at this time) which is work is about to begin again.

Two weeks from today I start back at work. I am not sure how many days a week or if I will have a job at all. But. But I am thinking about options that support my/our highest and best, trying to imagine balancing our very real need for financial income with my very real need to not be drained emotionally and with my consuming desire for more time with Della. And I might get laid off anyway. So. I am just not enjoying this.

In fairness, I have a pre-existing hate relationship with pumping because of my experience in the hospital (no milk at all) then at home trying to increase my supply. It made me feel like a failure to see so little milk (or no milk) in those bottles after pumping. God. I hate it. It made me feel like I was failing at One More Thing. Damn IF sets us up for this incremental self (esteem) destruction. Everything that does not work easily or well or at all feels so symbolic. Gah. Add baby screaming while feeding at the breast and not screaming at all while taking the bottle and.... yeah.

Now taking fenugreek and blessed thistle, drinking mother's milk tea. reading the book Making More Milk which is excellent but hard to read (It should have caveats like: THIS IS REALLY HARD, and THIS IS TEMPORARY).

For all of you who have fought your way through to your own conclusion about this thorny issue, I hear you. This is one of the thorniest.

Love

2010-12-25T08:35:00.002-05:00

I spend a lot of time thinking about gratitude, steeped in it, reveling.

Even with tears and hard times, I cannot think of anything I would rather be doing than this. Yes, even with the fumbling newness of me in this role.

I am beyond lucky.

I got a call from Boston IVF checking in on me (I called when she was born but apparently it was not communicated to my doc's office specifically) and I got choked up telling this perfect stranger about her.

What if they had not said yes?

Today we go to my beloved sister's to celebrate being together more than anything else.

Tomorrow a snow storm will complicate our travels.

And, believe me universe, there is no place I would rather be than this.

Happy holidays to all of you, however you celebrate, and even if you don't. For me this is about the return of light and gathering with loved ones.

Ands a sincere hope: May all your wishes come true in the new year.

Solstice+1

2010-12-22T18:18:00.003-05:00

Just a short post today- new snow, big big moon and the nights (these darkest days) are flooded with light and magnificent shadows.

Lengthening days, ahhh, just believing it to be true is balm, but this, my friends, is based on belief, it sure does not feel that way and won't for weeks. Dark at 4:30 here.

A good OB appointment today, lots of questions answered. 6 months. Until pelvis stabilizes, until scars heal more fully.

Speaking of doctors , a new medication for Della for reflux. Ahh the ongoing mysteries of the crying baby. So very hard when she is Just Wanting to Nurse and can't. BUT yesterday was more peaceful. I am hopeful.

Me, today a haircut (6-8"!), lightheaded.

A rite of sorts, not sure what I am shedding-- weight for sure.

adventures

2010-12-19T14:12:00.004-05:00

First, an overdue link to the wonderful Susan Mullen photos she has on her blog. Of the others that she has sent to us, I love so many... oh my. What you can do with talent and a mostly empty diner... for fun I chose just one for this post of Della yawning-- (prelude to a roar perhaps?)

Miss Della is doing wonderfully, lovely lovely, beautiful and very funny. She smiles a lopsided grin that is completely disarming and she does not give it up easily. Doug makes her smile more easily than I do, but she often smiles at me when I am not expecting it, and oh, my heart. She talks to us too, loads of vocalizations, and watches us so intently while we talk.

She's begun to drool and spit up after doing neither for the first 5 weeks. And she snorts. That's my girl.

On wednesday, I adventured out, meeting Baby Smiling In Back Seat for a three act event of craft fair, lunch and diaper shopping. Ever want to be humbled? Meet up with a now time-tested mother of toddling and delightful twins, while wrangling your own 5 week old and your own awkward if hard won new fumbling motherhood. Oh my. She is lovely (truly, as in beautiful) and was such great company-- patient, helpful, smartsmart, pragmatic, supportive, genuine. Her not-so-little ones are beautiful miracles, and I realized once again just how quickly time has passed, since I thought they were about 6 months old and they were born last October!

Anyway,

I survived, Della survived and we made it home and collapsed feeling vaguely successful.

Then, bravekate, I went out to dinner with my dear friend Tammy last night and brought Della, and it went fine. So, look at me! A big girl! Going out!

Good grief. I swear, it is scary although I am not sure exactly why.

Ok that's a lie.

I am afraid of failure and screwing up, I don't like feeling incompetent. But this is not a life stopper, just an awareness I have to work around. I am pretty sure at some point once I get the basics down it will get less intense.

And in the something-to-look-forward-to category, I might get to see Sprogblogger early in the new year! (WHOO HOO).

That's it for the moment, much more to write about (breastfeeding/bottle/pumping, my belly, more advice from a newbie), but must run. This post has taken two days to write. I am absolutely in the midst of the newbaby vortex. I am not sure I have ever lived so intensely.

week 5, first snow

2010-12-13T16:39:00.001-05:00

Today is Della's 5th week birthday and we woke to our first real snow of the season. yes, only about an inch, but lovely, and the woods are so still that it hardly looks real.

Snow brings the trees closer, and all of a sudden, my house in the woods feels like a house in the woods. In the fall, everything steps back, opens, but now, it feels like I can reach out and touch lichen on a tree trunk.

This weekend we did an overnight in Maine-- a last minute and perhaps insane trip that resulted in Della sleeping 4 hours or so in a row which was magnificent but a one time deal. And, because she has never ever done anything like that ever ever, I could not believe it was happening and spent a lot of time watching her, wondering if she was going to wake up soon.... so I got more sleep than usual, but she really did.

Saw my delightful friend Susan (our insanely gifted photographer) and yes, she took some photos while we ate lunch. Doug was wrangling Della in his easy made-for-this way, and I am so excited to see photos. (LOVED seeing her.)

But the trip itself, we just did it, we just packed up and went as if we could, giving ourselves every out if it did not work out. But you know? It worked out ok. But I confess: I feel I could go anywhere with Doug. He is magnificent with Della, and totally patient and does not flip out or assume difficulty. Changing the baby in a bathroom? You just do it, figure it out, no worries. WOW please god/goddess/all-that-is, please let his wonderful personality rub off on me, and please please let Della have gotten more of him than me in this way.

I am an all-that-can-go-wrong overthinker (not ultimately to the exclusion of all else, not terminally, but I confess, it is my nature), so it is really good for me to be with someone who just does things. They get done. No trauma, no duress. Options to change.

I nursed in public and it was not an issue at all, just need to remember that I am not ok with full boob (mine) exposure in public, so I went under rather than over, and had smartly arranged for belly coverage which also mattered and made me feel more at ease (and warmer!)

Anyway, things worked or they didn't and we adjusted (instead of freaking out) and it was all ok.

Only one regret: I did not take any photos of the ocean on saturday, but maybe I was meant to have it be a memory-- the sky and water the same color, with a slightly darker line at the horizon, and lighter along each wave crest. I am not sure I have every seen anything more beautiful.

Today has been designated a rest day after I felt like crap yesterday- just tired I think, and emotionally raw. I would hike but I need stillness today more than movement. But tomorrow might bring an adventure and I need to have my feet under me.

Tireegal, I live in Southern New Hampshire which is why the cold and snow and ice. But yesterday was balmy truly.

And I went on a mini adventure- no, not the coffee shop, but a solo with Della trip to get snow tires and an oil change, and we survived just fine.

Fear sucks ass, as does the presumption of failure/calamity/hardship/incompetence. I hope I can shake some of this useless stuff. It is like trying to run with really heavy shoes with no flexibility in the sole.

heartache for Elizabeth

2010-12-07T17:44:00.002-05:00

Oh my heart aches for my dear friend Elizabeth, who lost her husband Will to complications from acute lung rejection (he had CF and a transplant) on November 29th. In my more intermittent internet time, I just learned about it today.

There is such strength and love in all that she has written, including this most recent post. Please, if you can, go send love. I do not know how folks manage coping with the loss of a loved one after an acute or chronic illness, where you know loss is possible or maybe even probable, but fight every fight to keep it at bay.

I can only send love, which I am, which I do.

brown sugar and cinnamon

2010-12-07T17:02:00.003-05:00

28 days since Della was born.

how is that possible?

I write a letter to Della every week, to try to capture some of the details of the week since she changes so quickly. But she is also so very much her own self in very stable and consistent ways. We are getting to know her facial expressions, and starting (slowly!) to understand her different cries.

Doug is singing to her right now, they are rapt in each other's attention.

Doug is a goateed fellow and kisses Della in a way that tickles on purpose to see her smile and laugh. Totally addictive.

Sparkle lights around the window make it dreamier.

I cannot quite believe this is real.

Yes, diapers, and laughter and tears and happiness and tired and tough moments, yes complexities, and expected radical life changes, but somehow, it feels a little like I might wake up from a Versed nap and hear a kind nurse tell me apologetically that I only had 2 eggs retrieved. Or something. And this whole thing was a dream.

Last night I spent mostly awake, uncomfortable with bladder and urethra issues, so I called the doc today, went in and peed in a cup. But I've been tested already since the delivery and there was no infection so I think it is just irritated. The catheter and I are not friends. Functionally? Absolutely. It was fabulous not to have to get up to pee that first day after Della was born. But physically? Not so much.

I'm on some numbing stuff and cranberry extract until the results come back (48 hours). Clean catch is much easier when not working around a giant pregnant belly.

I will write about my belly soon, but a different post I think.

I have been thinking, on and off, about details. They come back at strange times and in strange ways. Last night, shivering briefly in bed (I shiver when I am tired, and oh was I tired) I realized/remembered how shaky I was during the contractions, how I could not stop shaking once they got intense. How it was one of the first things Doug noticed when I woke him that morning.

I also was thinking, as I ate my morning oatmeal, of my first food after Della: oatmeal with brown sugar and cinnamon. God it was good. Manna.

Of course I had not eaten anything but apple juice for 2 and a half days by then so yes, it was really really good.

And one more thing before I go-

Ok-- a small unpaid plug here for a product we like: the power of email aside, there are some folks we wanted to send real live baby announcements to, like the Boston clinic and Dartmouth, our families, etc. Our baby announcements came today from tinyprints.com. Very nice quality, shipping as specified, and really easy to do (I had 2 minutes and had it done and ordered in that time). They have great customer service although a strange grasp of grammar, they had a suggestion for a change and sent me an e-proof that I was able to review and select for printing or not as I chose. They even called to make sure I received the email with the proof and were really, really nice about it.

The default finish is matte and is very nice (card stock, very nice digital printing).

And no, I did not go to the coffee shop yet. That will probably wait (more) until I have a sudden brave urge. I promise I will let you know how it goes!

ice crystal baleen and international orange

2010-12-05T18:48:00.003-05:00

So today I did one of two things planned: I hiked.

The coffee shop may happen tomorrow, we'll see.

I put on my bright orange vest and hiked up to the first overlook, much farther than I expected.

I left late and the sky was filled with low clouds and soft yellow light.

At the base of the trail, I watched my feet on the slippery oak leaves, the glimmers of ice on rock, and crunched my way across ice that pushes upwards, stalagmites, opening the soil and raising it-- amazing really. In some places this ice is so high and so uniform, it looks like baleen, striated curtains. I remember thinking this every year, rediscovering it, surprised by the power of the formation of crystals to move the earth.

As I climbed higher, I started to look up and out. The light was so soft. The hillsides are nearly totally bare of leaves, even the oaks are nekkid this year, only a few held any leaves at all. So the woods were open and the feeling as I made my way up was one of openness too- sky and empty branches. I loved looking out across through the woods, seeing so much sky even in the thick of it.

I made my way slowly, honored the budded blueberry bushes that are thinking about next year's fruit...

I stayed long enough to breathe, to thank my body for the journey thus far, to really look out, to see the familiar lump and roll of the land and hillsides as they fall away and rise across the little valley, and take note that the ice on the bog is actually visible from up there....

I knew Della was safely taken care of, and I did not feel that I needed to rush. But oh, I missed her. So coming home felt warmer even than usual. And I got home before dark.

I wrote to my mom to tell her of my adventure, and I just got this amazing, beautiful reply:

and there I was peering through the trees knowing that the
sky was glorious but only seeing fringes of the gold, peach
and slight grey and white and pale blue and and and....
but you were IN it !! How perfect.
so glad for your mini adventures.
xox momma

And I wonder: What will I write to Della?

baby steps (mine)

2010-12-05T10:58:00.003-05:00

Kate at 9 months pregnant noticed things the unpregnant or not-quite-as-pregnant kate did not notice:

In the parking lot of a mini mall, a well dressed, well put together (clean) woman saunters by with a newborn tied in a mai-tai (baby hawk) carrier, looking totally comfortable together. Kate misses seeing the mom tie the baby carrier on, but the baby is peaceful and asleep, so much so, that the mom shops slowly and deliberately in the second hand store...

In the grocery or target or wherever, it seems millions of parents are there WITH THEIR BABIES-- most in car seats, some (once sitting) in nifty little germ protecting nests of brightly colored cotton... nearly all are peaceful.

Coffee shop-- women with babies, sitting and talking, their babies asleep in carriers or on laps or nursing or in car seats. How is this possible?

All of which I am now considering to be evidence of some serious parenthood MYTHOLOGY on the hoof.

Well, in my real life, I have a baby that does not like to be put down, ever, for longer than a few minutes... I cannot soothe her like Doug does unless it involves one of my (borrowed and enhanced) body parts... In the carrier, I need to be in motion. HOW do people do this?

So, the other day, to celebrate 3 weeks, I took Della out in the car. Just the two of us. I live in a drive-to place, since we live sticks (I envy Sprogblogger's walk-to city life sometimes).... so I bundled Della into the car seat, wrestled the car seat into my sub-compact for the first time with an actual baby in it (I have an old Scion Xa that has 5 doors. 5 doors = forethought no kidding, I really thought about the baby seat issue even way back when, but shallow back seat is NOT amenable to giant Graco seat base or seat, which will only get bigger as she does...)

We drove for about 45 minutes, around the block. There was some crying but none of it was mine.

Then home safely.

Last week, Doug and Della and I took a ride that required that I nurse in the car in parking lots, twice. And I needed to learn to tie on the mai tai myself while sitting in the passenger seat (awkward but not at all awful). Doug did the turbo cold weather back seat diaper change. We did take his bigger car since mine will not allow a passenger any comfort when the baby seat is in the car.

There was some crying, but none of it mine.

Today I am hoping to do this:

I am hoping to have the umph to bundle Della into the car seat, wrestle the car seat into my car, drive downtown (15 minutes) and bring her into a coffee shop with me (in my arms or in a front carrier), order something (tea? I am currently off of soy, and therefore also off of my occasional soy chai lattes to see if I can help Della's stomach be calmer). Back into the car and back here.

Friday, I will do a solo trip that includes nursing in parking lots at least once, and at least one diaper change ... and this is after our Dr appointment where I will do something similar but with Doug as my wingman.

Incremental baby steps, out into the world. Learning learning learning. I am not sure how long (if ever) it will take to feel comfortable or remotely competent or capable. This seemingly simple stuff is really surprisingly hard.

Days pass where I literally do not step out of the house (which for me is nutty).

So today or tomorrow I hope to take a walk alone, even though it is long underwear cold with a biting wind. Start the incremental treks up my hill that I somehow equate with mental stability. I don't have clearance to exercise but I can walk. So I will walk uphill. Slowly. Until I realize I need to stop.

B--although we have walked, I have yet to hike with Della since she does not quite have the stamina (nor do I, I bet). And even in the front mai tai carrier, I am not sure how to dress her to be warm enough but not too warm since our bodies are against one another. Hats and hoods just fall into her eyes (her hair is like teflon), zipped up jackets end up biting her under her chin.

And thank you for the moby offer, but I think we're good. I am open to a cast off Ergo carrier though-- anyone? Pretty much dislike the Bjorn, but love its simplicity.

I am stuck by just how much feels foreign. How do I.....?

But somehow, we do. We all do.

We figure out how to stick needles in our bellies. Over and over and over.

We chart.

We temp.

We learn new languages.

We show up for weird invasive procedures. And then show up and do it again. And again.

We use GPSs to find our way to new clinics.

We get creative with finances and debt.

We somehow do foreign and crazy things each step of the way, don't we?

And we do it. We just do. Because it matters to us so much.

We figure out how.

So, if I can just get Over It, and realize (with my actual non intellectual self) that this not knowing is a life long thing, and expected, and totally ok, and all will be fine....

just try it, figure it out, if the baby cries, you can leave a 2o on the table and walk out.

If the baby cries you can leave a cart full of groceries.

If the baby cries you can turn around and go home, make another choice, change your mind, adapt to the situation.

OF COURSE THIS IS TRUE.

So I wonder why it is so hard to remember it?

It is because I have images of competent women mothering in the world and figured you either are or aren't and I fear I know what category I am in?

Thanks culture, I appreciate that.

Sort of a marthastewarting of the parenting process.

no poop just gold dust and (well arranged) flowers.

(It is not culture's fault really, it is mine for buying into it even a little, subconsciously, unconsciously, in spite of my advanced age and all that I know to be true- just enough to feel like I must be doing it wrong)

Isn't it interesting what mythologies we create for ourselves? What impossibilities we set out for ourselves to never be able to live up to? (dangling participles notwithstanding?)

So yes, finding my way. And yes, this is oddly about me. Della will be Della, she is not tied up in oughts and shoulds. Hope I can allow myself to move more and more toward her way of being, which is so blissfully unfettered and weighted down by expectations and assumptions. Her way of being is just that: BEING.

She may be my littlest teacher, but her voice is mighty.

how we are today

2010-12-03T18:47:00.003-05:00

Just another short hello--

I lose track of days, day of the week, day of the month- day and night I still have pretty well sorted, but now these short days, well, that could change.

Sleep happens in little pieces

but joy happens almost every moment, except the screaming, those moments/minutes/hours suck ass. But there is such calmness in this so much of the time. Sleeping baby, warm and heavy, laying across my body. Or tucked in to nurse. Or a smile (yes! already!) that is nearly heartbreaking and certainly breathtaking.

Belly issues are being dealt with with mylicon, or colic calm depending on how bad it is. If she can still nurse, I do mylicon. If she is too distraught to nurse, then colic calm (which I think has baby crack in it-- she loves it a little too much). We rock and jiggle, walk and sway and bounce.

My tenderness remains, and for all I know may always.

this kind of rawness, well, the only thing like it is acute grief, but this isn't that. It is not that soul sucking. But it is that surprising in the intensity.

Della is beautiful, Doug is magnificent, and me? I wish there was some way to just be home with her. Work looms, but in these moments, being here with her is all I need to do.

There is so much I want to write, and so little time to do so. I hope I can remember.

I hope I hope I hope.

colic calm

2010-12-01T19:26:00.002-05:00

Thank you, sincerely, for all of your sympathy, help, suggestions and honest disclosure. You all rock. I hope to write more soon, but for now...

just a short one -handed post to say:

Colic calm gripe water

hot damn

CVS $20 mysterious black liquid magic.

how we are

2010-11-28T14:54:00.005-05:00

So how are we?

Here I am with a beautiful miracle of a baby- yes, as expected, sleep deprived, yes, time deprived. Yes, challenged beyond belief at this astonishing little being who can only communicate in at least one language I do not know.

She smiles in her sleep and my heart melts, and I did not expect to be cracked so wide open, and feel SO TOTALLY VULNERABLE to all of my own feelings of insecurity, inadequacy, incompetence... I can now change a diaper masterfully, thank you, but there are so many parts of this that I simply make up all day long, every day and I do not feel I am gaining on it.

I am torn to pieces when Della cries and I cannot console her, especially while she is nursing... but Doug is masterful, patient, and is able to help her calm when I cannot. Sometimes I can stay very calm for longer than I would ever have expected but come evening time, well, all bets are off.

I hate that I don't know what to do, how to help, what it means, or how BAD it is for her-- really hungry? tired and can't let herself sleep? just frustrated? maybe just blowing off steam?

We do the happiest baby stuff- swaddling, really loud shushing, swaying, etc, and it does work (hurrah Dr. Karp) but it is hard to do that for hours. No idea how to keep her settled and still(?) once settled with noise and motion. Ideas are welcome.

Breast feeding is going fine and I am so glad it is working. Della was up over 9lbs this past week at her 2 week appointment which is great and is clearly thriving. But it is a little challenging just by being so frequent and so lengthy- an hour of feeding every two hours, with some multi hour marathons, and of course I know it will get better as she gets older but right now it is hard hard. We do get occasional longer stretches that are lovely (thanks Doug!) and I sleep when I can.

I am already dreading pumping, trying to get her to take a bottle (already failed on our first attempt), going back to work, being away from her at all.

Several of you asked about how I am writing at all in the new baby vortex-- I write by writing fast and not editing, stolen time during Doug's baby wrangling (he is singing and dancing with her in the kitchen)..

We are all wishing we had more time here, to just be, to settle in, but I have a month or so before I have to go back to work

and Doug goes into the office tomorrow

and Della will be 3 weeks on tuesday, how is that possible?

So things are amazing, wonderful, great, difficult, teary (me, gosh darn), teary (Della), fun as can be (Doug), and I would not trade it for anything in the world.

Hormones suck ass though, I'm just sayin.

I did not expect to spend so much time crying or trying not to cry. No, no, not every day, not all day long, but tired+ crying baby+ feelings of inadequacy mean that gosh darn, every few days I come apart over something, feeling of extra tenderness, and then it is hard to get everything back under wraps the way I prefer. I am FINE being happy, but being sad/teary makes me feel horrible as you already know. I know it is hormones, and it is not always at all. I have many more moments of peace and happiness than sadness. But it still sucks ass.

So anyone out there have ideas for managing a fussy baby?

And I am open to ideas about how to prepare for pumping/bottle feeding during work hours.

Any favorite bottles for the discriminating baby?

birth story, part 5

2010-11-27T17:19:00.006-05:00

They checked me every half hour or so (NO PAIN during the checks which was lovely, truly, what a relief), and after each check, nurse D cranked pitocin up and up and up and up, and at 2:45 am or so, she had the doc come by.

Sarah came in from the lounge where she has been listening to her mind race, Doug woke from the sofa...

and the doc checked me after the nurse did, and said what I had feared: after 3 hours of monster pitocin plus the epidural, I had progressed in the smallest possible way, I was still only 7cm dilated.

At this point, the baby was starting to show stress/exhaustion. Heart rate of up to 170 then down, then up again--and by far the most important thing for me ever is/was safe baby-- so it was no surprise at all when she said it was time for a C section.

Doc D was called (was still in the hospital)-- there was some fun trying to get me ready for surgery since Doc D had threaded the epidural through my tank top, and remember, that little sucker (epidural) was only in by 2 cm... so there was some undoing, unthreading, Was I even in a hospital gown? or was I nekkid? no idea, just that things moved very swiftly.

Doug got a big white mechanic jumpsuit that made him look like an Elvis impersonator, and they wheeled me down the hall. We got to wait for a while outside the scrub area while they prepped the room, put my hair in a net, told me about the other people who would be in the room (a mean nurse, a guy named Steve who keeps track of the Things so they make sure nothing is unaccounted for when they are done sewing you up) then into the OR where it was damn cold. Dr D was with me, by my head, the whole time and incredibly present.

Dr S from my OB practice was the OB on duty that whole night and I have failed to say how great she was with me- how clear, and how compassionate, and Kendal (whom I adore) was with her in the OR so I felt that I was in really really good hands.

Mean nurse would not let two folks be in with me, so Sarah waited in the room (now, without the bed, she said it was bizarre to be there waiting)-- and apparently they decided Doug's goatee needed to be covered too--

In the OR, they moved me to the table, careful of the epidural (I was practicing handing over control), then on the table they started to prep me, put in the catheter, swab my belly, etc, while Dr D gave me more medication to make me go numb. Luckily the window of aliveness in my crotch was not in the window of pain for the C section, so after testing me for sensation (full sensation of pressure, none of sharpness in the zone)-- they started.

Dr D kept saying, look at me, look at me, stay with me here, don't let the anxiety get you-- and I remember a few weird things:

Looking up I was impressed at how present he was for me, considering that he had been so grouchy during the epidural,

and how he looked me right in the eyes like I was a real person in real stress/duress not just one of a thousand of these he does each year...

I was impressed at how carefully he shaved his neck, ending perfectly at the border of his underchin goatee, and

suddenly, they had begun, I felt the pressure of the scalpel...

but Doug was not there!

I remember saying over and over, Wait! where's Doug?

Where's Doug?

they so clearly were trying to get me open and get the baby out...

there was a new sense of urgency (or new that I noticed)...

then, just about exactly at the time they were yanking and I do mean YANKING the baby out of my body

Doug miraculously arrived at my head, (Doug saw my body lift each yank)

Dr. D took the camera, we had a lens fault (classic),

got that cleared up by turing it off and back on again...and he took photos over the blue curtain...

and

then we heard him say, here he comes... no wait,

you have a daughter! and then, finally, a cry

and we burst into tears

They showed her to us over the partition, so briefly, a pissed off red faced baby- ALIVE.

And that, my friends, is the single most amazing moment of my life so far.

Very soon they brought her up near my head. Dr D took the photo of Doug holding Della near my head, and he undid one of my arms from the soft restraints so I could touch her face. I could NOT believe she was real, it was over, and all that happened, the whole long journey was over.

***

Doug and I asked each other what her name was, that moment, as they took her away- and we agreed, Della.

And then Doug went with her, and I got sewn up,

and just kept thinking about her

HER

Her

Della.

Our Daughter.

birth story, part 4

2010-11-27T17:17:00.001-05:00

After hours of hideous nubane contractions (see Sarah's comment on the last post for her take on this whole chapter)... cervix recheck, still at 4-5cm.

I could not believe it. I think this is when I started to think I might not be able to do this. I mean, really not.

I am not sure, but I think this may be when I started to say OW and fuck or shit instead of just my weird single note toning during contractions, but maybe it was a little later.

It was evening now-- 24 hours since my water broke. Nurse D came on.

My lack of progress was incredibly disheartening-- I just felt like I was sinking each time they checked and each time it was the same. Pitocin was discussed with doc. And we all decided that it might help kick my dilation into gear-- they promised to be gentle, to start slowly. I asked about an epidural since I was so scared about the increased pain, but we all decided to see how I did, and then decide. If progress was quick, it might not be necessary.

D asked if maybe I would be more comfortable laboring in one of my own shirts- YES, and somehow we all changed me into a tank top.

And we started pitocin.

I also got a dose of antibiotics that tasted horrible in my mouth.

And then hours passed. Pitocin was increased twice.

They kept checking me, but even with the pitocin, I was barely dilating. Barely. 4-5? 5-6? The baby's head was deep and engaged, totally ready. I was even getting rectal pressure (sorry folks, but truth)-- and I would reward my own survival with tiny micro pushes, tiny ones, just hello body, I am pushing a little. I remember hearing Sarah say at some point (then? or before at the tub?) that it sounded like I was in transition. Well I sure was, but my body wasn't.

Late at night we conferred with the doctor again, decided on an epidural and very strongly increasing the pitocin. For those of you who know me, you KNOW how tired I was, how intense the pain was if I agreed to an epidural. Doctor D was summoned, a cranky interesting man, the bringer of pain relief and surly grumpiness.

But, oddly, he also brought the first laugh in a while--

he told me all the Bad Things That Could Happen, which I asked about and wanted to know- then I leaned into Doug and Doc D began to try to do the epidural while explaining the process out loud to Kendal, the magnificent med student at my OB's for her rotation-- I remember him remarking that "since I was slender"..... (??? SLENDER? Like a beluga whale?) but I guess from the back I was. I have no idea where Sarah was (Sarah, did you watch?)-- but he did look around at one point and ask me if the stuffed elephant on the window sill was a childhood toy. And I said, no, it is an adult toy. And then said oh my god, no, I did not mean that! and we all laughed-- two docs, med student, nurses, Doug and Sarah.

I remember Doc D feeling my hips, my spine, telling me the needle would not really hurt much, and you know, it didn't much, just a sting (menopur wins)--then he put in the epidural, I felt pressure, but nothing alarming, the beginning of warm heaviness in my legs, and then he said Uh Oh. Apparently it went into a vein not an artery, he backed it out, told me everything that was happening-- of all the uh oh's this one was not a bad one, he was able to reposition it rather than redo it, but then the epidural was in just 2cm. Taped into place, and I was told to stay pretty darned still so it did not dislodge.

There was an immediate and subtle abatement of most of the pain, a moment of sparkling sparkler feelings in my left thigh, and then, substantial relief.

I told him I thought that maybe I loved him.

It turns out, that there was one window of 1" x 3" in my crotch, in the contraction pain zone, that did not get numb at all. And so while things were *MUCH BETTER*, each fiery contraction came and went through that window, enough so I felt awake or at least conscious during each one, but was able to do something like doze/rest in between. The relief was immense. But that window sucked rocks.

Sarah went to try to sleep on the sofa in the lounge, Doug passed out (once he saw my face relax) on the sofa thingy in the room...and for a while, it was just me and the nurse and the monitors and the pitocin.

birth story, part 3

2010-11-26T12:32:00.006-05:00

interlude:

see?

I did forget things-- like how during the first contractions at the hospital, a gush of fluid exited me. It was almost funny,

contraction+ gush

contraction +gush

and each time I would announce, panting, "Another Gush!" because for me it was so remarkable, and I guess I could not believe how much fluid there was.

***

So, the tub.

Somehow, I said yes to the tub and they started to fill it.

I'd seen the tub during the tour-- a big tub, BIG. And we all laughed since they had little aquarium skimmers handy for, um, skimming any unintentionals out of the water.

They have arm length gloves for in-water cervix checks and for baby delivery...

and they asked that dads please bring swim trunks if they wanted to join their beloved in the birth tub at any time.

Let me say this: Doug is NOT a water person. So there would be no "joining".

Never mind the skimming.

The gushing.

I am not knocking folks who share the whole experience but gosh darn, I don't think I am ready to bond that fully (come, my love, and share in a soup of my bodily excretia).

But...

So the time comes to walk down the hall. My IV was unhooked.

The only way I think I made it was to imagine the instantaneous pain relief of hot water, of buoyancy, of that big tub.

I don't know how we made it down the hall, how long it took, I only know my eyes were mostly closed. I do know Doug walked me.

I do know we got into the room.

I got nekkid.

they put a truly green exam glove over my IV port hand, taped it around my wrist and asked that I keep it out of the water.

I do not remember getting in

but

how I remember being in the tub.

BLISS feels like an odd word to use the in the landscape of such intense physical sensation, but it was blissful. Warm, I tried to will my body to relax around the intensity. Asked my shoulders to stay low and soft, asked my friken cervix to open, asked my hips to release the pain.

Bloody show! Nurse W would exclaim and then work some magic with her skimmer. I hung on to Doug at the edge of the tub. The bottom of the tub was smooth and it was deep, there were no handles, no places to sit, just straight sides about 2.5' deep, hot water.

My sister arrived when I was in the tub. I remember her voice, and her hand in mine. I opened my eyes only long enough to register her presence. Hopefully said something welcoming. I do not know.

About thus time Nurse G arrived to take over for nurse W (split shift) and they realized they needed to monitor the baby since I had been in the tub for several hours. I remember a long process of them putting goop on transmitter, transmitter into water toward baby/belly, goop washing off transmitter... over and over and over until they asked me to get out so they could monitor the baby.

Getting out sucked ass. The water was getting cool so they told me they would refill the tub.

Stepping out of that tub, over that ledge, was insane. I remember being toweled off, lying on the bed, monitors back on, maybe a cervix check. As Doug says, they did that a lot.

They did.

A lot.

Because almost nothing was happening.

It was afternoon I know now but did not know then. I think I was finally as far as 4cm.

Back out of the tub we talked about pain management. The doc was consulted, nubane prescribed since it had a lower chance of causing nausea. So back I went to the room (no recollection of this journey), back on the IV, nubane administered. And what it did for me was not to take the edge off at all-- no relief at all-- I ended up calling it "the consolidator" (my sister calls it the exorcist drug) -- it took my gaussian contractions (ramp up, sustained bad, ramp down) and took away the ramping-- now a rect function (instant on, sustained bad, I don't remember how they ended)-- so the contractions slammed me with their intensity.

I got on my hands and knees, it helped some, but then they needed to check me again. So back on my back. And once I was lying down, it was nearly impossible to talk myself into moving.

Hours passed.