My Season of Mom

I had all these great intentions to keep on this blog now that I have my baby girl, Evelyn Grace. The truth is, I can’t believe how busy she keeps me! Women sometimes ask me, “So, what do you do all day?” I hate that question because often times it is asked with a tone that suggests that I sit around all day and watch TV; but I have to admit that I often asked that question to stay at home moms when I was working full time. ;) The life of a stay at home mom may seem luxurious to some. To others, it is perhaps the opposite. Personally, I am so grateful that I can be at home, raising and taking care of my 

precious little girl. I don’t view it as luxurious. I’m not dressing up in nice clothes, taking clients out to lunches, or receiving praise from my boss for a job well done. The clothes I wear will be washed by the end of the day because they will smell like sour milk; I usually eat my mid day meal while simultaneously bouncing the infant seat with my foot; and I never get a thank you or good job from Evelyn after I change her poopy diaper. Usually, I am up several times throughout the night, feeding and changing Evelyn when she cries. Many mornings, (such as today) she awoke at 5 am and then, she was ready to begin her day! My job for the day has begun…but then again, it never ended from yesterday. I bath her, hold her, try to get laundry, some cleaning and a shower in between her cries and feedings (which is every two hours…) I’ve learned to lower my expectations of what I accomplish in a day.  “Accomplish” looks very different to me now. I can not define my productivity by an end result anymore. I define my day by the little rewards sprinkled throughout the hours..a smile or coo from my sweet girl. I have six years teaching experience, a master’s degree in reading development; but, there is a bigger picture at stake here, and it doesn’t have to do with a pay check or professional recognition. The bigger picture here is my baby girl, who wont be a baby girl forever. Some women absolutely need to work outside of the house…and to you, I salute you because that is a hard job indeed. I know you try to do your best and to do both jobs well. Each person has a different path and a different calling. And a good thing to remember is that whatever season you are in, it is not forever. This is something I have learned over the years and it has kept me sane. So right now my job is changing diapers, cleaning spit up, spending seemingly endless hours and hours nursing  and holding and smiling at my sweet Evie. Yes, I get those breaks of being able to meet up with other moms throughout the day sometimes. I get to take a mid day walk outside and give Evie some fresh air. The joys in my life are very simple now. It is not dinners out at the trendiest restaurant in town, or fancy drinks at happy hour or 90 minute yoga classes (all of which are really nice!!!!) But this is my new season. The season of Mom.Please be encouraged that if you are in a season that seems endless, it WILL certainly end. Someday my season of being a stay at home mom will end. So, in the meantime, bring on the diaper blow outs and burping cloths. Bring on the adoring eyes and quiet moments of rocking her to sleep. I am Mom. 

My Evening with the Swifts

I saw one of the most exciting things I've seen in a long time tonight. My good friend Erin and I went downtown Portland to Chapman school to watch the swift birds dance and twirl in the sky, spiraling  into their cozy chimney for the night. Videos just don't do justice to the beauty of it all, but I've attached a portion of one just to get an idea. I've never been to this September show, and neither had Erin. So when we arrived and found our spot on the grass, we really didn't know what we were in for. There were a few swift birds lazily circling the sky above us...but this was only the beginning. As dusk approached, thousands and thousands of swifts appeared out of no where and began circling in the sky above us. They came in together, tighter and tighter, forming perfect black cyclones. They spun, and churned and twisted above us. "I wonder if they could poop on us?"inquired my friend, Erin.
"Nah," I answered. "I don't think they will."
About five minutes later, a nice big green plop fell from the heavens and landed squarely on my white sleeve. I guess they can poop. And they had their target.

Anyhow, I was mesmerized by the swirling circus above me. The mass of birds began to descend towards the chimney, one bird bravely breaking away from the group and diving into the shelter for the night. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a big hawk swooped in, attacked the birds, trying to find a tasty morsel for supper. The crowd gasped in delight at the predator, cheering for his success. The hawk certainly interrupted the flow  of the dance; but after a few minutes of chaos, the birds reunited again and returned to their acrobatic cadence.

They entertained us for about an hour, until the sun finally set over Portland. Finally, they did one last magnificent tumble in the fading sky and looped into their resting place.
And there they sleep, nestled together in their warm chimney for the night. Just like that, the once busy sky is dark. The curtain is closed. And all the amused spectators clap and cheer for the pretty little birds who preformed for us on this most perfect evening in September.

God's Snake

I am spending the week with my husband’s family up in Washington in the San Juan Islands. During this week, I get to spend some time with my little 4 1/2 year old niece who I don’t see all the often. I’m never around children this age. Most of our friends have babies or I work with kids in school who are older. So, it took me awhile to get used to the incessant talking and obsession with princesses and pink. However, I learned that there is something about 4 1/2s that intrigue me. They wander through life, enchanted by everything, puzzled by the obvious and exude such a contagious excitement for life that it’s hard not to jump up and down every time an ice cream cone is offered.

 I saw the world through the eyes of this little one, and within a few days, I began to view the world with the amazement it deserves. 

One sunny day, my niece and I went exploring around the backyard of the little house. I held her hand as she ran around the dry grass, her blue eyes full of excitement and her blond curls bouncing. 

“Come on Aunt Theresa. Let’s look over here!” We saw a rock with moss. It wasn’t even the neon green, spongy moss that entices you to run your hands over it. Yet, she noticed it and was completely enthralled. Suddenly, a gardener snake slithered out from behind the rock, through the grass. She grabbed my hand and shrieked in fear.

“It’s ok,” I said, “God made that snake.” She looked up at me, perplexed, trying to make sense of what I just told her. “You mean it’s God’s snake?”  she asked.

“Yes. And he made it for you so you can look at him.” She paused, looked at the snake and shrugged, venturing on to the next exhibit. 

Soon we came upon it: Mr. Slug. “ Yuck. Gross.” She backed away from the slug, her eyes gazing at it’s slimy trail in disgust. I leaned down, encouraging her to follow my lead. 

“It’s ok. It’s only a slug. He is trying to get home, just like we have a home. God made it.” 

Again, she paused and looked at me, trying to decide if what I said made any sense at all. “ So it’s God’s slug?”  

“Yep, it’s God’s slug.”

Then all at once the area in the backyard we were standing in seemed to come alive. A dragonfly danced passed us, a grasshopper leapt over a rock, a fly buzzed through the air. 

“It’s God’s Dragonfly! It’s God’s cricket! It’s God’s fly!” 

The world around us suddenly got exhilarating as she made the connection that everything around her was God’s and he put it here for her.

Later that night as I sat outside alone on the back porch over looking that ocean and the mountains, a deep red glow enveloped me. I stopped what I was reading and simply looked up. Never has a glow like this so completely consumed me. It was eerie and all I could do was stop and look up. The clouds were on fire, as if a match ignited a single corner of the sky, spreading and sweeping everything up in a brilliant blaze.  Suddenly I felt the excitement that my little niece had for the world around her swell within me. 

“It’s God’s glow,” I whispered to myself. 

And I couldn’t stop staring. 

My Daughter- Knitted Together within Me

Ever have one of those moments when you truly felt like life was happening around you and not to you? I had one of those moments last week when the doctor told me we were going to have a daughter. In my mind, I already picked out HIS bedroom, HIS name, and I felt HIS kicks. 

. Our appointment was marked in big blue letters on my calendar, and it had been something I had anticipated for months. The BIG appointment. The 20-week ultrasound that examined every limb, organ and…eh…other regions. I had taken various on-line gender predictor tests and researched all the wives tale signs and everything pointed to a boy. There was actually no doubt in my mind, and I think I even convinced everyone else that we were having a boy too. I started the morning off getting a filling at the dentist, which left my mouth numb and sore. I ran errands. Cleaned the kitchen from last night’s dinner party at our house. I tried anything to distract myself as I anxiously watched the clock. John admitted that he couldn’t think about the appointment because it made his nervous, anxious and excited. I felt the same way. I think I felt this way because this was the moment when everything was truly validated. For months now I’ve watched my stomach grow; I’ve felt sick; I was tired; I knew I was pregnant, but the mystery of what was actually growing inside of me would finally be revealed. Would he/she have all the limbs? A spine? Would we have a son (like I truly believed) or a daughter? 

As I laid down on the ultrasound examining table, John reached over and took my hand. Suddenly, on the screen appeared fuzzy images. I anxiously tried to figure out what I was looking at. A head? A leg? What was it?! The doctor proceeded to examine each limb, each organ and measure the growth of me. John and I scanned the screen, straining to spot the one organ that would confirm that our baby was indeed a boy. “Wait.there it is!” 

“Nope, that is only the umbilical cord.”

Where is IT!? Where is IT?!!

The technician looked at us and smiled. “You guys are having a girl.

A GIRL?! John looked over at me and smiled. His gaze met mine, and in them he was saying to me, “Well, let the adventure begin!.”

I stared at wonderment at the screen. Our daughter.

I was amazed how each vertebra, each finger, each part was so masterfully crafted. How did all this happen?! I just get up everyday, eat food and go about my business. Yet, during all this, a human being was being created inside of me. The other day I read Psalm 139, a verse I have read so many times before. Yet, it hit me differently this time, and as I looked at the ultrasound pictures of our daughter, I actually had tears form at the corner of my eyelids. For you created my inmost being; 
   

you knit me together in my mother’s womb. 


 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; 
   

your works are wonderful,  I know that full well. 


 My frame was not hidden from you 
when I was made in the secret place, 
when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. 


 Your eyes saw my unformed body; 
all the days ordained for me were written in your book 
before one of them came to be.

 Never in my life have I felt such immediate affection for someone. This life, this child was the epitome of innocence. It was being formed and created within me and it had no say whether it lived or what was to happen to it next. My instinct was to protect and care for this baby, and I suddenly felt the overwhelming sense of responsibility that it was the job of my husband and I to teach this child right from wrong.

Suddenly I saw the world differently.

During the next few days as I was trying to process having a daughter, everything around me was tinted pink. The women in the magazines were too sexy and airbrushed. The men gazed too long at the pre-teens in the short shorts at the mall. The statistics on the news about the young girls being sold into the sex trade were suddenly terrifying. The world  suddenly became the enemy; yet, I don’t want to view it this way at all.

So now I begin to think, and wrestle, with how to raise a child in this world without her being consumed by it? Is it possible to preserve the innocence that I observed as she nestled within my womb? She will come without an instruction manual. 

But as I sit here and type, this daughter within me is kicking around, reminding me that she is going to immerge eventually. So ready or not, here she comes. And I couldn’t be more excited. 

Notes from my travels: Venice is a journey, not a destination

Venice. The city filled with lovers floating down canals as serenades fill the night air. A magical city. A city like none other.  Something  I learned about Venice while there: This city is a journey, not a destination. Enjoy the process.

 A lot of places are much different in real life than in movies and pictures; however, I must say that Venice truly exceeds all expectations. We had to take a “water taxi” from the airport, and as we approached the city, I felt like we were coming upon a movie set. The Renaissance-style churches and towers appeared on the horizon and gave John and I that surreal, “I-can’t-believe-I’m-here” feeling. 

Once we got off the boat (with our heavy suitcases) now the challenge began: finding our hotel for the night. Well, we couldn’t hail a taxi because there are no cars. We couldn’t use the elevators or escalators over the many archways and bridges, because there were only concrete steps. My advice: pack lightly or find a nice husband. :) 

The streets were narrow alleyways, filled with lost tourists, enticing bakeries and gelaterias, and pigeons. The maps were useless because the alleyways never seemed to match the name on the map; and even if they did, one labyrinth flowed into the next, connected by beautiful bridges and canals. The canals were helpful navigation devices; if we hit water, we were going the wrong way. We were rats in a maze, trying to find our hotel, and it really felt like someone kept moving our cheese.

 After wandering around and seemingly passing the same gelaterias….the same lion-headed door knockers….and the same umbrella tables by the canal, I wanted to collapse. No sleep for 36 hours makes a person wandering through concrete mazes even more insane than usual. Finally defeated, we asked someone and they pointed to a wooden door, only 20 yards before us. How many times have we passed this same door? Oh well, it didn’t matter now. We were here, and the little hotel was truly what anyone would picture a hotel in Venice to look like.

 It was a vintagey, cherry paned, Venetian styled place with a friendly staff; the window from our bedroom looked right out into the canal and passing gondolas. 

We had dinner that night at a table next to a canal. As you can imagine, everything in Venice is squeezed into every available space. Our table was pushed near another couples table, who we actually struck up a conversation with. They were from Norway, vacationing for several weeks on a rented houseboat with some friends. They shared stories (and even their wine) as we enjoyed our first Italian dining experience.

 Later that night, we traipsed around the city, taking in St. Marks Square. We shared pistachio and tiramisu gelato while being serenaded by a beautiful orchestra. The pigeons flew around; the cool evening breeze came in off the water; and water surrounded our feet….wait…what?!! Yes, it’s true. Many people say Venice is sinking ( you better visit soon!) and while we were standing in the square, water was leaking through the concrete vents, filling the area around us. I’m not sure if this floods every night, but it definitely was turning into a small pond.

 We decided to get out of the water and on it by taking a night ride down the Grand Canal, which is the major canal that runs through the city. Everything all lit up at night looked simply enchanting.

 All we needed now to complete the Venice experience was to get lost again. And we did. However, wandering aimlessly in circles in alleyways sounds more dangerous than it is in this city. There is no crime because really, where would a criminal escape to??? There aren’t many people out and about after midnight, but every time we met a local, we provided them their entertainment for the night by trying to direct the dumb lost American tourists to their hotel. (especially this one table of Italian men, who took a break from their drink and cigarettes to banter over which way the lost tourists should go, ripping the map back and forth between them). After an hour (or more) of wandering the rat maze in the dark, I wanted to cry.  If John wasn’t with me, I probably would of found a little corner and cuddled up there until sunrise. In one last-ditch attempt to find our place, we asked a man smoking outside his apartment. He looked at us funny and pointed directly in front of us. Ha! There it was! Right there. We probably circled it several time but it looked different because it was all closed up for the night.

 I collapsed in my bed, exhausted and dizzy. However, if I have to get lost, there is no better place to do so! Venice is truly a marvelously, confusing city…one that I’d get lost in again.  

The First Day of the Rest of my Life

 Last week at this time I was complaining about the weather, dragging my feet to work, and trying to decide what I should wear to make myself look less pale in the mirror.

A few hours later, I was crumpled over on the floor, totally distraught and unable to think clearly because the life I once knew seemed like it was going to change drastically...or suddenly end.

The doctor called. He left a message on my phone saying he had the results of my MRI I had last week. I expected “all clear.” After all, I’ve always been “all clear.” I took pride in how I took care of myself: my eating habits, my vitamin rituals, my exercise routines, my excellent genes...

However, his words were very different: “You seem to have a brain aneurysm.” 

The world literally paused. Everything that was in my mind came pouring out; nothing mattered anymore. The doctor kept talking… “next appointment with the surgeon… Medical Procedures...  MRI monitoring…”

I braced myself against the wall and gasped for breath. In my mind, a brain aneurysm meant sudden death. All I ever heard about brain aneurysms was that someone was normal one moment, and then dead the next; therefore, I was certain I was moments away from  the same. I immediately called my husband, who was out in San Francisco on a business trip that week. Needless to say, his world stopped spinning as well, as he searched hurriedly for an immediate flight home.

My eyes suddenly filled with tears. I thought truly, for the first time, about  the possibility of not living until I was an old granny in a rocking chair with my grandchildren. I thought of not waking up each morning next to my husband and making coffee for him. I thought of not being able to have another night with my best girlfriends, laughing and enjoying wine and chocolate. I thought of not holding my cat…or hopefully my future child. Why had I never thought about this before?

Because I have always  assumed I would  live. I’ve taken my health, my life, my ability to wake up each day for granted my whole life. And at this moment, reality hit me squarely in the head. Literally.

My husband and I called the doctor on three way, and she told us she could get us in Monday. Wait…what…Monday?! That was a whole week away?! Wouldn’t it be too late by then!!!? She told us that if he doctor thought we needed to be in that same day, we’d be in.

 Oh.

 Perhaps I should relax just a bit. Still, the unknown was agonizing. The shock of having something bizarre in my brain haunted me. The possibility of having brain surgery was terrifying. And I felt so alone. But I wasn’t, because I knew God was there, and I felt his love and care for me through two of my girlfriends who showed up unannounced on my doorstep to comfort and pray for me. I was consoled though the encouraging words of my mother-in-law who drove right over to my house to be with me. I had phone calls, texts, emails….it was interesting to feel so alone, but also so loved at the same time.

That whole week was torture. The possible scenarios ran through my mind constantly. It was hard to plan or think about the future. It was difficult to care about the kitchen floor not being clean or the sock that was lost in the washing machine.

I went on a retreat with our “house church” group over the weekend to the coast. It was difficult to connect with anyone-to laugh, and joke and talk about topics that didn’t seem all that important anymore. John and I took a lot of long walks on the beach. One night we were alone at sunset, and the wind blew, and the waves crashed. We stood together on a washed up log on the sand, and I felt as if this moment was painted just for us. The peace of God surrounded me as I watched the colors sink behind the horizon and into the water. I felt at that moment that everything was going to be ok; whether I needed brain surgery or if I died, I felt like God had it in his hands, and he’d walk with me the whole way. If he could orchestrate these waves, and this sunset and fill me with the love I felt at this moment, he could certainly give me what I needed to get through whatever it was that was to happen. And so peace rested on my mind.

Monday morning came, and I couldn’t sleep. I decided that I needed to go on a run, in the cold, in the early morning hours. I wanted to feel the wind on my skin and the air in my lungs, because that meant that I was alive! As I ran I couldn’t help but think morbid thoughts. I thought about my funeral and who would be there. Tears leaked from the corner of my eyes as I thought about my  husband and my family and my friends and my co-workers lining up to say good-bye to my body. I knew that my soul would be in a far better place, but the thought of the ones I loved mourning for me was almost too much to bear; and I tried to push that from my mind.

We drove to the east side of town, John holding my hand, neither of us saying a word. I think we were both preparing for the worst, even though my husband kept strong and optimistic for me. The room was small, and had strange medical devices around. The doctor entered and pulled up the x-rays on his computer screen. And there I was. A ghost. A skeleton. I knew it was me because I recognized the shape of my nose and my uneven eyes, but boy, did that picture look chilling without skin or hair. 

And then there was my brain. Wow. I really had all that inside of me? It was so perfectly crafted and put together; I stared at my insides with amazement. Then the doctor zoomed in closer…closer…closer…until he was focused on a vein on the front of my face. And there is was. A slight bulge in the end. The aneurysm: 3.5 mm right behind my right eye.

“  This is small and they grow slowly. There is a procedure that can be done so that it doesn’t rupture, but it is not necessary now. Just come back in a year so we can keep an eye on it.”   

What?! That’s it? No brain surgery, or procedures, or funerals? Nope. Just life. 

As I walked out of the office, I felt giddy. Actually, my husband and I both felt lighter. The weight of the world had just been lifted from our shoulders and it felt so good to be free. I saw everything with new eyes. The sun was brilliant. I was excited about my work, and my life suddenly was thrilling.

Yes, I do have a brain aneurysm in my head, right now, at this moment. Yes, if it grows big enough, it could rupture and kill me. But any of us could die, right now, at this moment. We are not promised another day.
 I could choose to think about the aneurysm as a ticking time bomb, and I could live each day obsessing and worrying about it. However, I choose to see it as a very real, permanent reminder to me that my life truly is in God’s hands. It is humbling to me that truly I am not in control of anything. Stamped in the middle of my head-both literally and figuratively-is God’s promise that I won’t go a day sooner than what he has planned for me. And instead of fretting about that, I can rest, because I know now wasn’t my time to leave this Earth and the people I love. He allowed the doctors to discover this, so they could monitor it; and eventually I will have a procedure that could save my life. 

So there must be more to do here on the Earth. And I am excited, because today is the first day of the rest of my life. 

Snow Day 2011

Last night as I lay in bed, I set my alarm and made a mental list of how the rhythm of the following day would flow; be at the gym at 7:00 so I can workout for exactly 30 min, so I can come home and shower…be out the door to work by 8:30 so I can prep for my first student at 8:50, so at 9;00 I can greet the parent and commence testing, which will take approximately 1.5 hours, ending at 10:30 so I will have exactly 30 min. before I see my next student at 11:00, ending at 11:45, which will allow me a 15 min lunch break before my next student arrives at 12:05…etc…etc…etc… these are my thoughts before I drift off to sleep at night. Most days, they go pretty much as I plan, and I glide through my day, satisfied with the schedule I’ve kept and the tasks I’ve accomplished. Today however,  as my alarm awoke me in the early hours of the day, I looked out my dark bedroom window to a white, powdery dusting on the ground….could it be SNOW??? Yes, the forecasters were predicting snow, but could they actually be right? I’ve learned that when you live in Portland, you really shouldn’t plan your life around the weather forecasts. So in my head last night, my day was still scheduled, and productive; but now this SNOW put a sudden hault to my agenda. Then I got the blessed phone call: an official Snow Day. I could almost hear the shrieks of joy from millions of children across the Portland area as they laced up their boots and managed to make a small, watery footprint in their driveway. Forget watching anything on TV this morning; every single channel is focused on the panicked newscasters as the brave the breezy elements of  (cue deep, ominous, voice)“February Snow Storm 2011”.  

Anyhow, days like these remind me that life can change quickly. We are planning, scheming, trying to figure out how we are going to go about our day when all of a sudden, everything just doesn’t matter anymore. There is something better. It’s like God saying, “take a coffee break today.”  Curl back into bed with your plump cat and just enjoy. Grab a blanket and an extra cup of coffee and write a blog entry. Call a friend and talk a little longer on the phone.

And even if you don’t get a day off, the snow still slows the pace of everything down quite a bit. Perhaps I may get time to count the snowflakes as they drift towards the ground; is each one really different? I don’t know, but I have time to consider it! And I have time to consider the possibility that we plan plan plan, and that’s good; but when God decides he has something different, all our plans suddenly evaporate. 
And I’m learning that’s ok;  a snow day is just what we wanted anyway.