by Leah

We've had a string of rough nights over here Chez LDubs.  Little Bit had a fever three days in a row, then some lovely episodes of gassiness brought on by her newly discovered love of roasted broccoli (Parenting score: +10 points for the child eating, and actually liking, a healthily prepared vegetable; -25 points for forgetting to give her gas drops BEFORE she woke up at 2 in the morning screaming like a banshee and farting explosively).  

By Meredith

Sunday, I left Sweet Pea in the Church* Nursery for the First time.  In fact, it's the first time I've left him for more than 15 minutes with someone other than my mother.  (And those 15 minutes were with his godparents).  

by Leah

One of my favorite bloggers wrote a post awhile ago about what one is allowed to say to a pregnant woman:

1. You look great!
2.  Would you like to sit down?
3.  Can I get you a cookie?

Her point being, there are a lot of OTHER things one should NOT say to a pregnant woman, mostly involving her appearance (girth, weight, water retention, tiredness, etc. etc.).  

By Meredith

I’ll admit, I’ve never been good at gratitude.  I never really understood it.  As someone who struggled with depression at one time in my life, I have become adept at identifying unhealthy thought patterns and attempts at fostering gratitude have always led to such thoughts for me. 

When Oprah or a spiritual leader or a well-meaning friend or therapist would tell me to keep a “gratitude journal” and think every day of the things I had to be grateful for/about, I tended to come up with a list of things I have that I don’t deserve/didn’t earn, the privileges and unfair advantages I have in my life- or else those things that could be taken away in this precarious world we live in. 

I am blessed with intelligence that gives me an unfair advantage over many in the working world.  I was blessed to be born into a family that emphasized the value of education- or else I’d never have learnt to read, much less received two graduate/professional degrees.  I have a good job, but no guarantee that it’ll be here tomorrow.   (Let’s not even get into the scary thoughts around the people I love).  But, you get the idea, attempting to be deliberately grateful left me feeling guilty and vulnerable; which really aren’t terribly helpful emotions.  

But, I found myself, this past week, writing a Facebook post full of “I’m grateful” without having any of the negative emotions associated with it.  He is fine now, but a nephew of mine who is about 12 had gotten something stuck in his throat and the sprawl of our town being what it is, he’d been sent from one emergency room to another in an ambulance so that he and his parents ended up around the corner from my work and over an hour away (in good traffic) from his mother’s car and their home.  Rush hour and their other child’s activities being what they were, my brother and his wife needed someone to sit with my nephew for a while so they could get other things sorted.  I was in the right place at the right time (with my breast pump with me) and Sweet Pea was at our home (an hour away in traffic that time of day) with my mother and a stash of frozen breast milk in the freezer.  I was able to help and to be confident that Sweet Pea was in good hands and I was able to assist my nephew and his parents.  And it felt good that things lined up so that I could be useful- without being worried about Sweet Pea. 

I’m not sure if this was a one-off or not.  I actually tend to think that my emotional health started to improve the day I decided to stop waiting for “Mr. Right” and start taking steps to build the life I wanted (to be a mother) on my own.  It might also have to do with changes that came from a 2 year struggle with infertility.  It might also have to do with having found a “village” both in the form of a new church and in the form of an extended network of moms – both SMCs (Single Mothers by Choice) and others, who leave me feeling supported.  But whatever it is, I feel like I have “discovered” this gratitude thing everyone has always been talking about.  And it does feel as good as they say. 

by Leah

In Greg Boyle's most excellent book, Tattoos on the Heart,* he tells the story of his Jesuit mentor caring for the mentor's dying father in his last days.  Every night the son, exhausted from the sheer non-stop physicality of meeting his frail father's needs, would begin to read him to sleep, eager to finish their ritual so he himself could get some much-needed rest.  Only--and if you're a parent you're probably familiar with this part of the ritual--his dad refused to go to sleep.  The son would admonish his dad to shut his eyes, then return to the soothing story, only to look up moments later and find one of his dad's eyes "impishly" open, his face pleated in a smile, unable to take his gaze off of his son.  This admonish, obediently close, sneak another look cycle would repeat itself over and over as the father soaked in the sight of his beloved son.

I often feel that way about Little Bit.  Her dad and I will have just spent 30 (occasionally 60? ...90? depending on the day) minutes doing her bedtime routine or getting her ready for a nap, cajoling her into sleep, and staying with her until it really settles in, and then, when we've FINALLY gotten to the moment we've so desperately yearned for--sleep! a shower! a run! or, you know, other adult activities...--we find ourselves still stuck by her side, gazing at her wonderful face as she sleeps.  

She is perfect.  

I mean that in this way: parents often talk about how, when their child is finally peacefully asleep, they feel like they can recharge from however challenging, frustrating, or just plain tiresome their child has been that day.  But to us, her parents, Little Bit's perfection--her "just rightness"--also includes the fussing, pooping, and mischievous sleep-avoidance tactics, even the eardrum-bursting screams when we've kept her out too late and the endless middle-of-the-night wakeups when she's gassy.   We love her so dang much that we love all of her, even the difficult parts.

And that, Father Greg says, is how God loves us--only even more so:
"God would seem to be too occupied in being unable to take Her eyes off of us to spend any time raising an eyebrow in disapproval.  What's true of Jesus is true for us: 'You are my Beloved, in whom I am wonderfully pleased.'"

Enjoy it. :) 

*If you are a preacher, get thee to this book, for it is full of fabulous sermon stories (and a bunch of swearing--you were warned).