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August 8, 2011

A lesson in learning to be present.

(Photo:Everly is always reaching for Arlo’s hand)
I sat in the back of our van, holding a cold bottle of breastmilk I’d just pulled from the cooler to Arlo’s mouth while he screamed red faced at me. I apologized that it wasn’t warm and held my breath that he would take it anyway. Everly had her hand outstretched to me, “hand mama” she kept saying over and over. I was sweaty and wishing I could adjust the air conditioning vent above my head but that was the least of my worries.
Arlo cried harder, thrusting his tongue against the rubber bottle nipple in protest. Everly joined in, upset that I was ignoring her request to hold my hand. Brent said something from the front seat, but I couldn’t hear him over the children.
I felt almost like I was watching this woman I’ve become from above. She is familiar in so many ways, and vastly different in others. In moments like this one when I am stressed and wondering who to help first when no one is happy, I often feel this tickle of doubt and the stifling cloud of feeling overwhelmed settle on me.
What am I doing?
The truth is, I ask myself that on a regular basis. What am I doing? Am I making the right choices? Am I not doing enough? Am I doing too much?
Becoming a parent has shifted every facet of my life. The way I think, the goals I have for myself, the decisions I make, my definition of happiness… all of these things and more have taken on a completely different viewpoint since Brent and I became parents.
But the fear and doubt and survival mode that comes with managing the day in and day out experience of caring for two small children, and my marriage, a home, and a career has gotten the best of me sometimes.There have been moments when I have found myself wondering what age will they be able to feed and clothe themselves and when, if ever, will I sleep again.
My Aunt Cathy, a mother of four, shared a story with me recently that I have thought about nearly every day since. She told me about a camping trip with her three youngest boys. The children were arguing with one another, she was trying to get the campsite settled and prepare dinner at the same time. She felt frazzled and stressed out and was barely enjoying this supposedly “fun” outing they had planned for their family. Across the way was a campsite with three older women. At some point, my aunt and one of the ladies crossed paths. The women looked at my aunt and said to her “I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but one day you will look back and realize these are the best days of your life.”
The truth in that statement is almost palpable.
Hot and sweaty in the back of our van, with my children crying in unison, I closed my eyes for a brief minute. I thought of my aunt and her story. My children are small and require so much of me.  Each day, they are growing and alongside them, I am learning how to be a better mother.  With every month that passes, they need me a little less and with that realization comes a little sadness.
My dear Everly is racing into independence at lightening speed and I feel the pace with which she is finding her own way picking up with every day that passes. Even my newborn Arlo is barely holding on to that title anymore. He is becoming alert, aware of himself, and learning to self soothe.
One day, my children will be out in the world somewhere, perhaps even learning the same lessons I am now. And I will be missing these days, when I was the thing that they needed most. And in my mother heart I will be mourning for the very moments that I sometimes try to wish away now. I will long for a crying infant that needs to be shh shh shh’d late into the night, or for a fussy toddler who doesn’t want to go to bed, (or to eat her dinner, or to have her face wiped for that matter). One day I will long for the high pitch squeal of a little girl’s laughter in my ears or for the weight of their tiny bodies when they dream in my arms.
I am trying to embrace the present all of the time… not just in times of happiness but even more so when I feel myself struggling.
The best days of my life: Here’s to not letting them pass me by.
Love,
M


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