Family

Merry Christmas Mommy

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I stepped away from my writing for a while.  To be more accurate, I stepped away from trying to make sense of my thoughts.  My aging mother is ill and my beautiful 2 year old son is thriving.  It only makes sense (in my senseless reality) that it be Christmas time.  The time of year that proves to be, both the most wonderful time of the year for some,  and the hardest for so many others.  For me, this year, it seems I am in between; stuck somewhere in the middle of joy and pain.

I have decorated the house.  I have wrapped almost every gift in coordinating paper, ribbons and tags. I have fresh evergreens in every available vase.  I even made a traditional German cookie house like I used to make with my Mother each Christmas.  Our tree is a true sight of beauty, filled with memories for both me and my husband.  We are like kids ourselves picking gifts for Santa to bring little O.  We teach him Jingle Bells and Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer and delight in his toddler versions.  Seeing Christmas through his little eyes is the closest thing to magic and it is wonderful.

In another part of my mind, there are lists of things that need to be done for my mother’s care.  There is worry about her safety and that of my father’s,  as well.  There is guilt that I live four hours away.  There is a sadness I have never known.  I miss her so much.  There is also a fear of what is yet to come. Will I be strong enough?  Will I come out the other side intact?  Will the hole that is growing in my heart ever mend?

How can I exist in this dichotomy of circumstances and feelings?  I have often thought about how having my son so late in the game means O having grandparents who are much older.  They aren’t who they were 10 years ago, let alone 20 years ago when most women my age were having children.  I am so grateful that he knows them and has a relationship with them, but I don’t know he will remember them as I know them.  By the time he is able to, it is possible my mother won’t even know him.  I suppose it is pointless to obsess or worry about scenarios I have no control over.  But the sadness in it stays with me.

Perhaps it is true that God only gives you what you can handle.  Maybe he knew, in his Divine providence, that I would need the joyful focus of raising a child to keep me sane while my mother slowly slips away.  I don’t know.  But it makes a lot of sense to me.  Funny, right about now, the only thing that truly makes sense other than my little nucleus family, is God.  Who’d a thunk?  I guess it all began with a child, so of course, it makes sense a child could get me through the tough stuff.  With that I say Merry Christmas, my friends.  I wish you much joy this season,  and always.

Remember, behind every great kid,  is a mother who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.  She might also be depending on the magic of Christmas more than you know.  Thanks for reading. Xo

 

 

I Choose Us

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I write a lot about extreme self care and metaphorically putting on your mask before you help those around you.  Breathing for yourself so you can be a better mom.  As a mother, a huge theme of mine is survival.  Motherhood is an awesome, all consuming job, that doesn’t have an end to the work day.  Our brains don’t get to shut off and decompress during most days.  I am “on” 24/7, even when my husband is home.  It’s certainly not for lack of help from him.  He is a full hands on Dad.  It’s just my Mommy mode.  It’s like sleeping with one eye open.  I never get to forget I have a child. Not that I would want to, but you get what I’m saying.   I have come to realize that my survival plan is short sighted.  It doesn’t encompass the big picture.

And so, it occurs to me, sometimes it is not all about MY survival. Nor is it about baby coming first all the time.  It’s about the survival of our family.   All of us.  As a wife, who truly wants and loves this equal partnership I am in, I realize it is not only important, but imperative to sometimes put my partners needs before all else.  Yes, I just said that.  Before baby and before me.  I find that I do a lot to keep myself in balance.  I make a conscious effort to seek beauty and positivity every day.  I take walks with O.  We have adventures and stories and cuddles. It doesn’t always have to be “only me” time to be “me” time.  Sometimes my efforts fail me, and that’s when I need assistance, like any normal being.

My husband’s career can’t exactly be called “me” time for him.  Although he loves it, it is stressful.  And let’s face it, the man is doing it to provide for his family.  After all, it is called work.  So when does he get to slow down and breathe for himself? He could go to yoga, but that’s never gonna happen.  The point is that sometimes we fall out of balance because I am in need of some self care and sometimes we fall out of balance because he is in need of the same.  It is my job (and privilege) to help him with that.  (Yes, I said privilege and I’ll get back to that.). If it means that I have to give up some of my “only me” time to provide for him, then so be it.  Maybe I miss my yoga….when I am in balance, it’s not going to wreck me.  I know I’m stronger than that.

You see, to me, the bigger picture is O having two happy, healthy parents who are enjoying raising their child together and who are enjoying their loving partnership.  It is about him witnessing a relationship that gives, supports and loves.  The stronger we are as a couple, the more secure he will be.  The more love he sees, the more he will want to give.  I have to look at it like we are the foundation of our family life.  If the foundation is cracked (regardless of where the crack lies) our family is on shaky ground.  If we are solid, there is no limit to what we (and he) can build upon it.

I say it is my privilege to help my husband, because I am so lucky to have him as my partner.  I am not only blessed to share this life with a someone…but with the someone who I truly believe I am meant to be with.  There are so many people in this world longing for companionship, for love, for another.  I am privileged to take this journey with a beautiful human being….I will not take that for granted.

I often say that O is our world.  But in truth it is our family that holds the key to happiness. I can’t be fully happy if my partner is hurting or suffering in any way.  As independent as we both are, we work as a unit, not as two independent entities.  Our individual balances, triumphs and struggles affect us all.  That is what the commitment to partnership means.  So I don’t choose ME.  I don’t choose O.  I choose Us.  Every time.

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up. Thanks so much for reading.  Xo

Depression: The Family Thief

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Once again, I have crunched my way into avoidance.  Anything to delay the writing.  It’s funny, because tactics to avoid writing only come into play when the topic is of a difficult nature.  This is not  some “Aha!” moment for me.  It’s pretty textbook, really.  We tend to avoid the uncomfortable difficult conversations.  My bowl of popcorn, dried peas and blue corn chips are pure proof of my discomfort.  By the way,  my snacks are organic so that means they are good for me, right? Yeah, didn’t think so…they are just less bad.  Well, that’s something.

I’ve been harboring this topic for a while.  I’m not even sure how I want to explore it.  It is intensely personal.  Painstakingly difficult and heartbreakingly close to me.  I’m talking about depression.  Now I’ve shared quite a lot about my bout with postpartum blues after I had O.  What I’m talking about now is the depression I have lived with for as long as I can remember.  I’m not talking about myself.  I’m talking about my mother. It certainly has affected me my whole life…but now, as a mother myself, it brings up a whole other set of feelings.

Depression has robbed my mother of so much in her lifetime.  And that is sad enough.  But it has stolen as much from those of us who love her, as well.  And now it continues to steal from the relationship she could have with my son.  If you have never seen someone through the darkness of depression you might not understand.  She loves him, undeniably.  And he is over the moon for his Oma.  But her sickness keeps her from spending any real time with him.  It keeps her hidden away in the darkness of her slumber instead of enjoying her grandson.  It has taken all possibilities of joy from her, even when they are right in front of her.  It would be easy to blame the person.  But I know enough  after all this time, it is the illness.  And when medications cease to work, it is a deep dark place she goes to.  To say my heart is heavy is an understatement.

I want O to know my mother.  The mother that I know. The glimpses of the real her are few and far between these days.  And the truth of the matter is, she is now elderly.  Depression seems to wreak havoc on an older person’s body at an exponential pace.  The less one does when they are older, the less they actually can do.  Bones soften and muscles atrophy through lack of use.  It’s tough to make a comeback at 79.  Especially when there is no end to the darkness in sight.  It is brutal.  The reality is that O will have the memories he has, because he doesn’t know her any other way than the way she is now.  But for the rest of us, it is hard.  Especially for my father.

I am writing about this not just to express my personal upset, but to raise some awareness about depression and how it affects not just the afflicted, but the entire family.  There are two types of depression that I am aware of.  Circumstantial and chemical.  The latter, as in my mother’s case, is the trickier to remedy.  A person might find a medicine that works beautifully, but after time, it begins to lose its effect and depression can set back in.  The dosage is usually increased and enhancers are added, which can make for some scary side effects.  Or a new drug might be prescribed and the whole acclamation period starts again, sometimes only to find out the drug isn’t a good fit.  Back to square one.  I can see how a patient could be despondent about their recovery.

What I know is that depression can be genetic.  It can run a cycle that affects generation after generation.  My maternal grandmother, though I never knew her, was agoraphobic.  Anxiety runs in my family. Anxiety untreated snowballs into depression.  With all that I have learned about depression, I’ll be damned if I’m going to follow that path.  The madness must stop with me.  Parents pass on their anxiety to their children everyday.  It is unconscious and usually the fallout doesn’t rear its ugly head until the child is in their teens.  But it doesn’t have to be.  Seek help early.  As minor as your anxiety or depression might be.  Seek help.  If not for yourself, then for your family. If you suffer from circumstantial depression (divorce, job loss, death of a loved one)…seek help.  Your family needs you.  You have a spouse, a son or daughter, a grandchild who needs YOU.

I always say that things happen the way they are supposed to. I’ve always been a believer of “If it is meant to be, then it will be.”  My life is a testament to that adage.    I was certainly lucky enough to have my child at the age of 44.  But what I never thought of was how old my parents would be when I had him.  (That’s a whole other post.). So let me finish up by saying I miss my mother.  There are days when I need her more than she could ever fathom.  There are days when I need her guidance and parenting wisdom.  There are days when I just need to hear her tell me she loves me.  To know that she is here, yet not really here, is just cruel and breaks my heart.  Everyday.

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight, and remember, behind every great kid is a mother who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.  Thank you so much for reading. Xoxo

Where Is My Village?

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We’ve all heard the saying, “It takes a village.”  In regards to raising a child, it is certainly a true adage. Why then, oh why, do so many of us move away from our “village?”  What is it about American culture that makes us think a job or the price of real estate is more important than familial ties? I’m not saying those things aren’t important, but are they the priority? Really?  There is a type of impetus in the American youth to venture far away.  Cross country to college.  Job searching across the nation.  I’m certainly not judging, because what did I do? I grew up in New Jersey, but bought a home in Florida.  It was before I was married and had O.  My rationale was that I was only 2 hours by plane.  And I certainly did spend quite a lot of time up North with my family.  But I was quite happy with my little life I created there all on my own. But after having O, I acquired a  totally different perspective on things.

If it hadn’t been for my husband, I don’t know that we would have moved back North when we did.  Luckily, he had the wisdom and foresight (and job offer) to see the importance of being close to family and the value of raising O somewhere steeped in history.  We are not in New Jersey near my family, but at least we are a short distance from my husband’s.  And the drive to NJ is about 5 hours, making it do-able.  I am so grateful for being close to his tribe, but I have to tell you, the older I get, the more I miss my side of the family.  I miss the closeness I remember.  I miss my brothers and my parents.  I miss a lot of things that used to be.  I think that might be something that comes with age.

Why don’t families just live all together like they do in some other countries.  In European and South American countries you can have three generations living under the same roof.  Talk about a village! Why is that concept so unacceptable to main stream America these days?  Why are we so eager to be separate?  Do we feel we will lose our independence if we combine our efforts?  It doesn’t have to cramp our style.  Personally I think the pros far out weigh the cons.

My Mother-in-law is selling her house and while she looks for another, she will be staying with us.   I’m actually busting with excitement about it.  How wonderful for little O! How wonderful for all of us!  I would love it if she just decided to stay indefinitely.  Why go buying another house when we have enough room for all of us?  She is worried she will be imposing on us, but nothing could be further from the truth.  But she is still young, vibrant and beautiful.   If my psychic friend is right, she will be meeting someone special this summer.  She obviously wants SOME privacy.  But in truth, nothing would make me happier than having a house full of loved ones.

Perhaps I am an oddball.  So be it.  But what I do know for sure is the number of people who love and watch over my son can never be too many.  It makes me sad that I have a niece and 2 nephews I hardly know.  I have a brother who’s day to day life is more unknown  to me than the life of my new mommy friend I just met.  It’s unsettling.  And it’s all due to distance.  Let’s face it, family takes effort.  And any long distance relationship takes uber effort.  A long distance family relationship where everyone is busy busy?  You’re lucky if you talk twice a year.  It’s really sad.

It doesn’t mean that you can’t be close with family just because you live far from each other.  But effort needs to be given.  And it needs to be reciprocated.  Alternately, you can live in the next town and never see your clan.  Which sadly is the case for many.  It is perplexing to me, but I suppose family stuff can be complicated.  I wonder how many of us, who have moved away from our families, ask ourselves, “Where is my village?”  Where is our support system? Where are the connections to family I want for my child?  Well, I can tell you,  I am grateful for our proximity to our family.  And equally grateful for the effort made by family who remain a daily part of my life despite any distance.  One of the deepest connections I have is with my cousin who lives in NJ.  I guess that proves that your village can span the miles if you want it to.

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight and remember, behind every great kid is a Mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.  Thanks for reading! Xo