to the woman who does everything well:

Reading your blog makes me feel bad about myself. 

Are you Queen Midas, because it seems like everything you do is golden, perfect, lovely, better.

Like, do you have to be even more beautiful as a mom than you were when you were 22?  I mean, couldn't there be something about you that wasn't as pretty?

And why do you have to accomplish everything you set your mind to?  And why do you set your mind to do the only things I'm any good at? 

I bet that since you've conquered those 2 things you'll move on to succeed at the things I'd like to be able to say I do but am too lazy to practice - like sewing, and scrapbooking, and knitting, and having my own garden, not just picking things from my parents'.  And then I bet you'll get a book deal and become a national speaker. (which is my secret dream!)

Do you secretly hate me?  Is that what this is all about?  Did I once say something stupid or insensitive and deep down you've been waiting to put me in my place?  No, I'm sure that's not it, because then you'd be just as sinful as I am and I'm pretty sure you are a way better Catholic than I.

It all just makes me want to give up, go to bed, and send my kids to be raised by you.  I'm pretty sure they'd be read to more often, do fun holiday-themed crafts, eat healthier foods, have a consistent schedule and only have 30 minutes of screen time a day - if that!

O! woe is me!

What happened to my joy?

A handful of things have happened in my life lately that have me pondering that question.

A friend sent me an email encouraging me to cherish each moment with my children. She was sharing her secrets about how to find joy in the monotonous and demanding tasks of motherhood.

I attended a Christmas production at a mega-church. The event was a disappointment but every church member I encountered there was so sincerely kind, welcoming and joyful.

I heard a college friend speak about her missionary work with the deaf in Mexico. As always she was witty, humble, praising God and clearly joyful.

With my first encounter I felt guilty, but also unfairly guilted. I completely missed her point and it took me a long time to remember that we are to do the things of our vocation with joy, even if we don't like it. This is a basic Catholic teaching, yet I've wanted an exemption from it for so long I started to believe it just couldn't apply to me.

By the time I got to the Christmas production I was impressed to see true joy being lived out. This isn't to say that I don't know joyful people or that I've been living in a joy void, I just think that I've been lacking it for so long that I was no longer looking for it. Maybe I didn't want to see it.

But when I saw my friend present I felt myself identify it and want it. I want to be that kind of person again. I want people to want to be around me because I am sincere and warm and other-centered. And I want them to notice that their encounters with me are different than with other people and the reason for that is JOY.

I am tired of being grumpy, whiny, entitled, angry, annoyed. Today needs to begin my return to joy. And not because I'm supposed to be that way, but because I crave it and I don't want to live without it.

I am going to start by popping in to see Jesus at an adoration chapel. Any other suggestions?

This is Advent

Day 2.

"The glory of God is man fully alive," wrote Irenaeus. I've heard this line many, many times but it never really struck the chord that it did today.

This morning as I prayed with Lydia, I asked for the graces to live out my vocation, to embrace the crosses of mundanity and sacrifices of my time. I prayed to no longer view my role of a stay at home mom as a loss of self, but rather as a progression to the fullness of who I am intended to be.

For sometime I have felt like I am treading water, occasionally enveloped by a wave. It's time to move past that and live a life that brings glory to God. It's time to act on the nudge I've been feeling and call the local nursing home and see if they need a volunteer visitor and her adorable baby. It's time to allow myself to really celebrate that when my husband heard the line, "Long as you got me you won't need nobody" in a song he thought of me, instead of worrying about making him happy. (I am making him happy!) It's time to start identifying the demons who are attacking me and tell them, in the Name of Christ, to get the hell out of my house. (Literally.) It's time to get up. To wake up.

Because, I think the message I got today is that I have the life I want, I'm just not living it.


Fr. Blake's Sunday sermon, which inspired me to write this post, can be found here.

Quick clarification and some new pics

Two posts ago I talked about how I don't like where I am at in my life right now. But I need to expound on that and clarify some of my statements. When I pictured myself and where I wanted to be at age 27 it was always happily married to a good, Catholic man and being a stay at home mom. (I always pictured myself thinner though.) So in that sense I have what I wanted.





What I didn't foresee, was that I would still be struggling with feelings of inadequacy. Why can't I just accept that I am good enough and get on with my life? Travis is pleased, Lydia is happy, my mom thinks I'm great and - to top it all off - I'm positive that God has found favor with me; I wouldn't be so blessed if He hadn't.

The main reason I wonder if I should have a career is because I compare my life with other women's lives and see that they are working. Never mind they're all fresh out of college and single. Add to that the fact that motherhood as been a tough adjustment. Lydia and I are just now getting in some sort of a groove and fine tuning our relationship.





It may be hard, but it is a joy. And I don't want to work! I don't want to put my baby in day care! I want to be the one to play with her and love on her and care for her. I guess, though, I'm still getting over the freedom that I had and, again, adjusting to life as a mom and finding my footing when it comes to being a competent mom.

What I'm gonna do today

Today is the Feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary into Heaven. (Catholics believe she was taken into Heaven body and soul - think Elijah minus the chariot of fire.) So Happy Feast Day to you!

On this day, my very good friend and Lydia's godmother are going to start praying together. I desperately need a strong Catholic to help keep me accountable, someone who will pray for me, over me and with me. I greatly esteem Katie and asked her if she would do this with me so we can become stronger Christians and better friends.

We'll begin by going to confession, then attending Mass and finally by praying. Hopefully we'll top it all off with gelato or Starbucks.

As you can tell by the previous post, I need this. I'm pretty certain that my current laziness in my faith is part of the reason I'm feeling so lost and uncertain right now.


Postscript: I used the picture I did, which is not a picture of Mary being assumed, because it was a staple in my childhood. You'll notice the rays of light coming from her hands. As a girl, any time I saw sunlight breaking through clouds in similar rays I believed Mary was in the spots the light touched upon. I still love that idea.

Where I'm at

What should a woman be? What should she want and what should her life look like?

Is it better to be a stay at home mom or a working woman?

How do you not lose your sense of worth and importance when the most impressive part of your day is making a baby laugh? There is no hob-nobbing with impressive people, traveling to exciting places or being admired and respected by a crowd of people when you're at home trying to stick to your cleaning schedule, nursing your infant and planning dinner.

I love my daughter and I love my husband, yet sometimes the life I'm living just isn't what I thought it would be. I feel like I am not the person I wanted to be at this stage in my life and that worries me for their sake.

But in the back of me there is a little voice telling me that I need more humility. Where I more humble I'd be more grateful, compassionate, generous, merciful, patient and loving. I think that if I were those things this blog post wouldn't have been written.

It took 6 weeks and watching the movie Juno, but I am now completely, totally, fantasticly in head-over-heels in love with my daughter. I am certain she is the cutest thing ever, with her cooing and smiling, and every little thing. I have been wooed.

Thank God!

PS - You all were right. It did get better.

Will I do another home birth?

A lot of people have asked me if I'll do another home birth after how hard the first one was. (Some people seem to think that the obvious answer is "No" as they seem kinda smug when they ask, as they just knew I'd be begging for an epidural when things got hard.)

But I intend to plan a home birth for my second child just like I did for Lydia.

After 5 weeks of reflection this is what I've come to see:

- I am still glad I never had to transition from home to hospital and back again.
- I would not want to have changed anything that would have changed the role Travis played at the birth.
- From 11am-1pm on Saturday (the day Lydia was born) I was in a lot of pain and I did tell Travis I wanted an epidural, hell - I wanted that baby cut out of me - I didn't care - just end the pain. But that was during the stage of labor called the transition, the hardest part for every woman. It is at that point that many women will cry, say they can't do it, ask for an epidural, and just want it to all be over with. This is not a sign of weakness in me or any other woman - it's just the way it is.
- I went into labor Friday night at 7, yet 12 hours of intense contractions later I had not dilated. Also, any labor over 20 hours is considered a complicated labor (and mine was 21). Travis and I chose a home birth because we didn't want to be in a hospital setting where they might want to intervene with drugs, which always increases your chances of fetal distress and c-sections. Based on what I've read and heard, I believe it's very likely hospital staff would have wanted to give me drugs to speed up my labor. I'm glad I did not have to make decisions or face any kind of pressure.
- The care I have received from the women who attended my home birth has been amazing, and is unlike anything I would have received from an ob/gyn (especially the one I was seeing when I began my pregnancy). I am especially grateful to my caregivers as they were very good about checking in with me and being available throughout the very difficult baby blues.

And most importantly:

- More and more I can appreciate what I did and what that means about who I am and what I'm made of. Going into it, I thought labor and birth would be the most amazing thing I'd ever do. Some people climb mountains, run marathons or go skydiving to challenge themselves and their bodies. But who needs Mt. Everest when I can deliver a child - just as my body was designed to do, and just as God wants me to (meaning my vocation as a mother). That was my opinion while pregnant, but after my hard birth I felt a bit duped. However, the more I've thought and prayed about it, the more I've come back to the original thought. I'm proud of what I did and that the decisions I made were in the best interest of me and my baby. And I've come to see that strength is shown in how well we do in our weakest moments. And I did pretty damn well.

Thank God for Mom & Cooks

Things are beginning to level out a bit. There will be a super bad day (like yesterday, let's say) but it will be sandwiched between two good days. But the bad days are still pretty stressful.

That's why I am so grateful for the friends and family who have provided dinners for Travis and I and to my mom, who has spent the night and many days with me and Lydia. The more I sleep the better I feel and Mom's presence allows me to nap more.

***********************************

For as long as I can remember I've wanted to be a stay at home mom. I was always a great babysitter - I cooked, cleaned and the kids loved me. So I thought that the whole SAHM thing would be easy for me. I pictured myself with a tidy home, dinner ready for Travis and happy children. (I also pictured myself thinner.)

Because I had the natural knack for mothering, and I feel it's my vocation, I thought this would be so much easier. I was duped. About a week ago, as I lay in bed, I thought to myself, "I don't remember praying for humility." But that is what I've gotten. My pride and dignity have gone out the window time and time again: milk soaking my shirts, poop all over, crying I cannot console, a boob poking out while I'm burping a fussy Lydia, and on top of it all I can't shower or brush my teeth until 11 usually. And when I'm low on sleep the crying is much more likely to not only begin, but continue for hours. (I'm talking about myself crying, not my daughter.)

It is amazing how such a tiny person can make me feel so unsure, incapable and frustrated.

But man, does it feel wonderful when she snuggles up to me.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

"Every time I thought I'd got it made / It seemed the taste was not so sweet..." - David Bowie



My whole life I've wanted to be a stay at home mom. But now that I'm on the brink of it I'm actually quite afraid. And it's not just the fact that we'll be living off one salary, I haven't changed a diaper in years and the house still isn't done (though it is close).


Suddenly I have thoughts about the career I could have had: I was offered jobs where I made a good starting salary and could have moved up. I would have been very good at them but I didn't have the desire to work in a more "corporate" setting. So I settled for a smaller pay and a much better work atmosphere.



There's also the grad school. I would have done very well in grad school, but I was done with being critiqued by the time I graduated. I knew I could present an interesting perspective on a piece of literature and I knew I could do it well. I didn't need another two years of it to get a job I really didn't want anyways.



And then there's the travel - getting outside Central Illinois. Why didn't I study abroad, or live in the UK for awhile, or a big city. But I've been to Italy, Poland, Germany, the UK, Belguim, Luxemborg, the Bahamas, not to mention Seattle, NYC and the four months I lived in San Francisco. I've experienced other cultures; I've seen great works of art; I've struggled with a foreign language; I've lived in a big city and met fascinating people, and I've learned what it's like to venture out on my own - completely without a support system. And at the end of all these things I've always been confident that I wanted to come back home, to my friends and family.



It seems a little silly that now that I'm pregnant and won't be working, traveling or going to grad school I want these things. I guess it's because, while I know I can do those three things well, I have no idea how to breastfeed and discipline and raise a normal, happy, healthy, faithful kid. Years of babysitting mean nothing in the face of raising your own kid.



I've been told this is a normal fear, and every mom I know has assured me that everything will be fine and that it's all worth it. I guess I just need to get back to being who I know I am and who I know God made me to be. And I think I need to stop comparing myself to the women I know who are living the lives I've described above. They're younger than me or have different values and goals. So what good is the comparison, because in the end I'd just want to be right back here: happily married to a great man, big and pregnant with his baby and living in the home he's making for me.