should-ing all over myself

Milo is napping and there are so many things I should be doing.

I should be loading the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher.

I should be steaming more green vegetables for him to eat.

I should be running.

I should be showering.

I should call my friend I haven't talked to in awhile.

I should be paying bills.

I should finish writing thank-you notes for Milo's birthday gifts.

I should. I should. I should.

Confession: It isn't just when Milo is napping that I feel the shoulds. Lately, I've been hearing a lot of shoulds.

I should be more excited to start my new job.

I should be better with money.

I should be more frugal.

I should be more generous.

I should be nicer to my dogs. I should walk them more.

I should be more attentive when my husband tells me about work.

I should be more engaged when Milo is awake.

I should be tidier. Less messy. More organized.

I should eat better.

I should exercise more.

I should be more involved with what's going on in the "real" world. I should have written my congress person about the debt ceiling.

I should live in my own house.

I should have more friends.

I should be more grateful.

I should be different.

More.

Better.

Yes, it has been a good ole should shitstorm in my mind lately.

(See, I just told myself I should not say "shit" on a blog my mother reads...)

It feels really icky.

And I don't want to live like that.

Something I've noticed? When I feel really critical of others, it's mostly because I'm feeling really critical of myself.

I don't want to live like that either.

I want to find space where it's silent. Where the shoulds are quiet. Where there is no judgment.

One of the 2.3 billion reasons that being a mama is scary is because if I don't get MY shoulds under control, then I will start to should my son. I can feel it already. He should be walking. He should be weaned already. He should know more words.

I don't want that for him. And I can't make space for Milo to be himself, just as he is, if I can't also make space for myself. Just as I am.

Before we left Denver, a friend of mine gave me a gift. A book called There is Nothing Wrong with You.

Sounds self-helpy? Yes, my friend thinks so too. And told me so. And so I didn't read it because I should not need self-help books.

But, I've started reading it. And I love it. It's written by Cheri Huber, founder of the Zen Monastery Peace Center in California and Living Compassion, a nonprofit dedicated to peace and service.

I'll say more as I read more, but here's what I'm repeating to myself today: "If you had a person in your life treating you the way you treat yourself, you would have gotten rid of them a long time ago..."

my first mother's day

Tonight my heart is full.

I feel celebrated.

I feel loved.

I feel joyful.

I feel awe-filled.

I feel humbled.

I feel content.

I feel grateful.

I feel like a mother.

an intervention MIGHT be necessary

Someone might need to come over and disconnect my internet.

Or at least disable Google.

New mamas should not be allowed to google at 2 a.m.

Evidently, since I decided to stop worrying about Milo's sleeping and feeding schedule, my brain is compensating by worrying about other things, like that maybe Milo has developed autism since he got his shots last week. Or that maybe he is blind. (I kid you not, yesterday I convinced myself he might be blind.)

Last night I was in bed using my phone to google "baby overheating." This conversation with David ensued:

David: (awakened by the light coming from my BlackBerry) Are you ok?

Me: I think maybe Milo is overheating. Overheating can cause SIDS.

(Silence)

Me: Do you think I should go wake Milo up and take off his onesie? I probably shouldn't have put a onesie on underneath his pajamas.

(Silence)

Me: Well, do you???

David: Milo's sleeping?

Me: Yes.

David: No. You do not need to go wake him up to take off his onesie.

(Silence)

Me: Ok. But if Milo overheats and dies, it's your fault!

David: Ok.

Like I said, an intervention MIGHT be necessary.

Letter to Baby M

(I started writing letters to Baby Baker when we found out we were pregnant. I've kept them private but thought I would share this one...)

Dear Baby M.,

You are about to be born. Despite the fact that your mama feels like you are never coming, I know you cannot stay in there forever.

You are four days late. Maybe you are scared to come out.

I don't blame you. This outside world can be a very scary place. People hurt each other and hate each other and, sometimes, kill each other.

Millions of babies are born to mamas and daddies who love them, but can't afford to feed them. Or they are born to mamas and daddies who will die of AIDS. Or, sometimes, they are born and discarded.

It's scary and sad and not fair.

Maybe it was selfish of your dad and me to want to bring you into this world.

But, ultimately, your mama believes (like the famous musician sings) that, despite the scariness and the awfulness, the heart of life is good.

It's true, little one. The heart of life is good.

I believe it because this morning the sun came up. And I woke up next to your dad. And two eager puppies licked my foot as it hung off the side of the bed.

I believe it because we are surrounded by good, good people who will help you figure out how to navigate your way here in this world. Like the great Tink Tinker says, There is no way out, there is only a way through...

There is so much I want to say to you as you prepare to be born. I am anxious to meet you and get to know you and see who you are. Your dad and I promise to always take care of you and love you, no matter what. Your grandparents and aunts and uncles and honorary aunts and uncles love you too. They will be here to teach you and encourage you.

I said I will love you no matter what and that is true. However, there are some things that I hope for you. I hope that you will grow up feeling loved and wanted. I hope that you will know God's grace and presence in your life. I hope that you will be kind. I hope that you will get angry about things in this world that are not fair. I hope you will spend time making things better. I hope that your heart will be so full of love that it is easy for you to love the people around you. All people. Even people who are different than you.

I saw a poster in the bookstore once that said, On the day you were born, God danced.

I believe this to be true as well. That when you finally make your entrance in this world, the Divine Presence who creates, celebrates, and nurtures life will dance. You will be immediately surrounded by a community who will welcome you and celebrate you.

Little one, I don't know what day you will be born. But I know there will be dancing...

Love,

Your mom

Blessings

Yesterday I decided to leave my couch for awhile and venture to Cokesbury (the UMC bookstore) to try and spend the gift card Iliff gave us for graduation. I was browsing the titles when this book caught my eye:

I don't believe in signs or that things happen for a reason, but sometimes God's presence is so palpable it is almost eery. I pulled this book off the shelf and flipped it open to the following blessing:

For a Mother-to-Be

Nothing could have prepared

Your heart to open like this.

From beyond the skies and the stars

This echo arrived inside you

And started to pulse with life,

Each beat a tiny act of growth,

Traversing all our ancient shapes

On its way home to itself.

Once it began, you were no longer your own.

A new, more courageous you, offering itself

In a new way to a presence you can sense

But you have not seen or known.

It has made you feel alone

In a way you never knew before;

Everyone else sees only from the outside

What you feel and feed

With every fiber of your being.

Never have you traveled farther inward

Where words and thoughts become half-light

Unable to reach the fund of brightness

Strengthening inside the night of your womb.

Like some primeval moon,

Your soul brightens

The tides of essence

That flow to your child.

You know your life has changed forever,

For in all the days and years to come,

Distance will never be able to cut you off

From the one you now carry

For nine months under your heart.

May you be blessed with quiet confidence

That destiny will guide you and mind you.

May the emerging spirit of your child

Imbibe encouragement and joy

From the continuous music of your heart,

So that it can grow with ease,

Expectant of wonder and welcome

When its form is fully filled

And it makes its journey out

To see you and settle at last

Relieved, and glad in your arms.

Needless to say, I purchased the book immediately. =)

The blessing made me feel better. It was a gentle, loving reminder that I will not be pregnant forever. In fact, God willing, someday my son will grow up and move away from me and, perhaps, I will miss the time when he was nestled uncomfortably (but safely) below my heart (causing me extreme heartburn). So, for today, I am feeling much less hostile and more hospitable toward the tiny foot in my ribcage.

He's awesome

We are so thankful to everyone who reached out to us with love and concern this past week. I wasn't able to respond to everyone who emailed, texted, or called me, but I felt your love and prayers with us yesterday as we went for our second ultrasound.

We met with the genetic counselor first and she asked us a million questions and prepared us for the ultrasound. There were three people in the room looking at the ultrasound and all three agreed that there were no signs of echogenic bowel! We were both relieved and filled with joy, and I felt my body loosen and exhale, releasing all the worry and fear it's been holding on to since Monday.

We cried. We gave each other a high five. And then, as a special treat, the ultrasound technician let us see our baby in 3D...