Time Out

Thursday evening found me alone with Summer and Anders. No “big” kids. No Mike. There was a lot to be done and a very hungry baby to be fed.

For a minute I panicked.

Then, instead, I became the queen of self-empowerment. I pulled my hair up, squared my shoulders and proceeded to start a load of laundry, wash the dishes, and vacuum -- all while nursing Summer.

"I’d forgotten,” I thought to myself. “I can do this baby thing. It’s just work. It just requires working harder. . . . Sometimes one-handed.”

And often that is it – just work; working harder (and with only one hand if necessary).

But then . . . yesterday and today, Summer has been so unhappy with life. Uncomfortable and sad. Needy and never long for sleep.

The answer, I have been discouraged to discover, has not been found in simply “working harder”. What has been called for, what Summer has needed is . . . less work; less doing and getting done.

And less work, I’m afraid, is a much bigger challenge for me.

It is.

It is much easier for me to simply “gird up my loins” (a little Bible reference for you there) and work harder – do what needs getting done. I struggle much more when life calls for me to sit still and just be; when I am asked to step back and let things unfurl about me a bit.

But, my dear, sweet Summer. She’s only been here – on this earth, with this body – for two and a half weeks. I have been ready for things to be back to normal; ready to do all of the things we do around here. But Summer, . . . she doesn’t even know what our normal is. She just knows . . . she’s not quite ready for it. She needs a little longer to be allowed to eat when she wants to eat and to sleep and wake – with no rhyme or reason – securely snuggled in my arms.

She needs me to let things be not normal for a little longer.

And I will, of course. I understand her. I know what it’s like. We’re not so different, my little baby and I. She’s working hard to figure this living business out, and so, it seems am I.

Back to Real Life

Wait. What does that even mean – back to real life? What have I been living these past 11 days if not “real life” I wonder?

Change and adaptation. Growing. Expanding. Learning. Adjusting and refiguring.

That's all pretty real life stuff, I suppose. At least It's certainly felt pretty real.

Maybe I just mean . . . back to . . . ummm . . . back to . . . back to doing things that are normal even though they feel completely unnormal? Back to digging in and getting my hands dirty with the demands of day to day living?

I had a lovely week-plus pause on most run-of-the-mill things. Mike had work off and, while here,  masterfully handled kids' breakfasts and lunchtimes, laundry and dishes, dinners and grocery shopping, teeth brushing and bedtimes.

I got to simply sit and hold Summer while she slept, lay in bed late into the morning while she nursed, stare endlessly at her tiny features, and respond immediately to her slightest whimper.

It wasn't as absolutely dreamy as it sounds. Life was (and still is) new and wild and unknown. My nature is such that I still felt anxiousness over things I wanted to do and couldn't, over things that needed done and weren't. I fretted plenty over the many “how”s that I haven't yet figured – and really won't be able to without the passage of time. I wondered when unpredictable might ever become predictable again.

But, it was still pretty dreamy!

I mentioned this in my last post, but I've had a more-than-healthy dose of postpartum panic and anxiety after some of my little ones' births – enough to recognize that even though life is full of questions and juggling right now, I am incredibly lucky to be feeling primarily happy and calm about it; primarily like everything will work itself out just fine.

Mike went back to work yesterday and, with his departure, I was thrown headlong back into managing day-to-day living. (Though, I would actually probably consider the day before he left – the day when Anders threw up six times and had multiple bouts of diarrhea; the day I washed my hands roughly 8 million times in my panic to keep Summer germ free – to be my first induction back into “real life”).

It will be good for me to start piecing life together into a new normal again; good for my confidence to see that I can do it – just like I've done six times before.

And until we get there – to some future state of “life is normal” again, I'm awfully glad it’s Summer who is here, winding and entwining her existence all into the new normal we are creating! So relieved. So glad.