Support

It's now been over 13 weeks since Veronica was born. It seems like these 13 weeks have simultaneously lasted forever and flown by. So much has happened. So much has changed.

As I reflect upon my pregnancy and the past three months, the one thing I'm grateful for has been support. Support from my husband, from my family, from friends, and from my students. It is now clear to me that bringing life into this world is quite a group effort. Sure, I could have done it without the support, but it would have been downright miserable.

I don't see how a woman could do this truly alone. Those first weeks with Veronica I was so grateful that my mother-in-law lived so close and my husband was there at 3am to take her for an hour so I could get some sleep. I was thankful for the many people who contacted me via facebook. Friends whom I haven't seen in years sent me private messages offering advice and sympathy. There were messages asking me how I was doing, asking how breastfeeding was going, and reminding me to leave the house. People stopped by with dinner. Friends emailed asking if they could come over (sometimes they couldn't).

Some of the most supportive were from friends who had also had children. They'd lived through it too, and I'm so very appreciative that they reached out to me.

(Facebook made it so much easier- a special thank you to Mark Zuckerberg.)

I never really understood before and therefore, probably wasn't as good a friend as I could've been to others who had babies. So, to all of my friends who may have felt I was distant or not supportive- I'm sorry. I was just ignorant.

The message everyone reiterated was that it really would get better. The baby would sleep more and regularly. She wouldn't need to eat every 2 hours. I would leave the house. I would no longer be stuck on the couch at the mercy of whatever crap was on tv at 2am (Holly's World and some Kardashian Krap if you're interested) Those thankfully few weeks of "why the heck is she crying so much?" would end.

And despite shingles and chicken pox, it has gotten much better. Maybe it's because I'm getting more than 3 hours of sleep in a 24 hour period and maybe it's because I can eat a meal? It could also be because I wake to find a little girl smiling and cooing at the ceiling fan and she now hugs me a little bit when we go to change a diaper early in the morning and she talks to the purple hippo hanging from her bouncy chair.

For whatever reason, I'm so glad everyone was right.

Mary Ellen

My Aunt Barb, Mary Ellen's mother, is fond of saying "We come from good stock." It brings a smile to my face even in the saddest of moments.

Today, Saturday May 21st is my cousin's memorial in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and I can't be there. It pains me because there is no where else in the world I'd rather be.

I love Mary Ellen so deeply, as do so many other people. Living across the country from her, I didn't get to see her daily, or even yearly. I didn't get to know her as well as either of us would have liked. I dearly treasure the moments we had together.

I admired Mary Ellen. I remember visiting her when I was 11 years old as she was working on her master's degree. She was a role model, intelligent, beautiful, and vibrant, someone whom I could look up to. She exuded a sense that everything was going to be ok, that life was not only worth living, but worth celebrating. I was proud of her then, as I'm proud of her now.

I always remember Mary Ellen smiling, which is not to say that she didn't struggle, but that I associate her with positivity and sincerity. I remember the way she danced at my wedding, the joy she took in the beauty of her garden, the love with which she spoke about her mother, the fun and laughs we had while sharing good food and even better conversation, her generosity in which she opened her heart and home to friends and family,...I remember so much that inspires me to be better, more forgiving, more accepting, and happier.

After my mother's funeral, she hosted a lunch in her honor. I will never forget the warmth and love I felt. It was the same warmth and love I felt emanating from her whenever we were together. Sitting in her house that day, I felt comforted. I felt accepted. I felt surrounded by peace.

She worked hard to cultivate this peace in her life and to share it with the world. My Aunt Barb told me that she was spiritually ready to leave this life, but I certainly wasn't ready for her to do so. I understand that this is my challenge to face, to accept.

In the meantime, as my heart heals, all I can say is Mary Ellen is a prime example of "coming from good stock," and I am so very proud and grateful to share it with her. I'll miss her forever, and I'll always keep her memory close to me.

Om Veronica

There is something about having a child which makes you re-evaluate yourself, your life, and your interests. This blog has sat abandoned for what has become years instead of months. It became a small, but ignorable, pang of guilt. I'd loved blogging, but Facebook came around to let me share interesting news items..and I was hit by a severe case of writers block accompanied by an extreme existential funk.

The funk hasn't cleared. My career is...not. I'm pursuing a masters degree in a field I enjoy but fear will lead nowhere. I'm working barely part time in an enjoyable job but which is essentially the same position I had 8 years ago. Had all my work and development and professional growth been in vain?

Admittedly, I did not fight the funk very hard. I cannot explain why.

A year ago I grappled with anxiety knowing that I've done my best at school and work, but felt like a failure for never really being able to define what I wanted to do with my life. I was jealous of friends who had jobs which took them around the world or challenged them with interesting projects.

Was I wasting my life?

Then I got pregnant...which is where you'd expect me to say everything came into focus, and I realized the purpose of my life. Not true-- but it's been a compelling journey, not at all what I expected, and it's mostly forced me to look at who I am, who I want to be, and not what I am. Motherhood, which started well before birth, caused me to question whether or not I was living the lessons I wanted to pass to my child.

And the answer has been yes and no.

It has also inspired me to write which I've missed so much. This may evolve into a "mommy" type blog, a turn off to some surely, yet I hope it keeps some people's interest.I'll most likely document what's going on with Veronica, who has taught me much in the way of patience in her 6 weeks of life.

Mostly, I hope it allows me to express myself and resurrect a part of me which has stagnated.