Your heart just grows... but maybe you have to give it some time

I am just going to say it outright, you can read me first and judge me later. I did not fall in love with my second (Libero) like I did with my first (Tristan).

There.

I have fond memories of holding 3 day old Tristan opening his tiny eyes and looking at me leaving me speechless. I used to look at him and whisper "Quando mi guardi cosi' m'innamoro", when u look at me so I fall in love. And I did, every time he looked at me for weeks I would get a pinch in my stomach, a physiological , irrational, potent urge to love. My love for him was so new and disarming that I felt lost and could just simply cry to release the fullness of that feeling.

Libero came like a cannon ball, 3 hours in the hospital and he was born, in my arms, his squirmy naked body ready to claim another piece of my heart. I thanked him for the fast and furious entry into my world and overwhelmed by the release of hormones I was head over hills again. We brought him home and we adjusted back into our lives with the added responsibility and the subtracted rest... and I just wasn't devastated by love as I had previously been. I loved him, don't get me wrong but... I loved him matter-of-fact loved him. One day he looked me straight in the eyes and I did not feel the urge to speak the words his brother had heard so many times before. I simply returned the look, searching in his dark grey eyes for that irrational fondness I had felt 2 years prior.

The weeks went by, surviving the sleep deprivation was my first goal. Searching for that love was my second goal... No matter how hard I tried I did not find it.
Then Libero started smiling at us, started holding my finger while nursing and cooing and completing those adorable new born milestones. My heart grew, little by little, my heart grew of love for him too. This is often the other parent... when baby is all mamma mamma the other partner often connects when there is something in it for them, a smile, a coo..

It's complicated. To love him as I did the first time he would have had to be my first time holding a baby that came from my body, the first time realizing that I could create someone so perfect and so alive, the first time comprehending the foreverness that came with my baby... AND I would have had to not know what it was like to love so powerfully that you would in a heartbeat give your life to save theirs.

When I was expecting Libero I often wondered how I could possibly love anyone like I love Tristan and everyone told me "Your heart grows". To someone wondering that same question today I would say "maybe you won't, not right away. Maybe you will love differently because you will be different and that is OK".

I am more capable and confident in your role as a mother, I know I can hold that much love and then some! A combination of my own growth since my first baby was born and the lack of novelty of holding your new baby made it so that I felt a different love that could at first be mistaken for less love but it was simply different.

on forgiveness

I took a long bath tonight, I lit a candle, turn off the lights, I let my belly be almost fully immerse under soapy warm water, I threw my head back and just let the music of an old fashion italian singer songwriter fill the room.
I took a step back in time, for brief moments I was in different places I had been as a young woman. I have always loved taking a bath as a dramatic declaration of my femininity and my supposed ability to stew with my feelings. I am not sure if it was ever a sincere act or that it brought me to a deeper sense of self... but it sure made me look like it did. If anyone could just have seen me holding my Kundera book in the tub.. they would recognized how profound I was in that moment.

I was in Italy my parents' house, on a high school night wishing to be older and far away. (which surely ended up happening). I was in London, in my little apartment with a vast sense of independence spotted by some home-sickness that just gave my experience that more substance. And then I was in Kentucky, only a few weeks from delivering my son, thinking of that as a wonderful time to connect with my body, take a break... and painfully realizing that I was way bigger then the shallow tub and in the end unable to come out of it gracefully.

This collection of bath tub moments made me laugh tonight, how futile and trivial everything looks years later. How do we hold true those moments when after a while they seam to have resolved themselves?

 But then I thought about my child, my sweet 20 month old who has so many emotions and so many ways of manifesting them though his language skills are still raw. He is in the moment and nothing matters more then his emotional response to any random event. Knowing that this moment will pass and he will work through his frustration/anger/sadness can trick me into brushing them off, teach him to "get over it", while instead I am learning to stay in the moment, stew with his emotions, let them unravel.

My baby's first public full blown tantrum was terrifying, surely more to him than to me.. but as I looked for help later that day my wise aunt-in law reminded me that it is quite remarkable that children hold and show so many emotions and that you end up missing that little person who could just express so much of what he felt. My heart melted. Looking at a tantrum in this light made all the difference.

So while even tantrums, as hard and at times embarrassing as they might be, are a collection of moments that pass and become futile and trivial times in your and your child's life, how comfortable we are stewing with those moments is going to make a difference.

Women who hold the space

I look at my wrist and I see a purple ribbon, I inhale and feel stronger, more connected, grounded in my being.

Words and symbolic gestures can be a powerful thing.

A week ago I set in a circle of women, each special to me in different ways. The powerful smell of burning sage hit my lungs, filling me up and lifting me high. A poem was read, something about the fire within and the power of growing a seed. Words were shared by each woman, words directed at me. How they see me, what they love about me, what they know I will do well with and for my expanding family.

Then each of them tied a purple ribbon on their wrist, promising to keep it there until this baby comes. I see their wrists and mine linked to an open hand, the palm facing the sky, ready to receive. I see it attached to a hand palm facing down ready to release to the ground whatever it does not serve us. I see it linked to a closed raised up fist declaring presence and strength. And I see it connected to other hands, holding the space in a circle of friendship.

It's almost like you never get a true chance to hold hands and hear what your friends truly feel for you, outspokenly and shamelessly until you ask or are offered or maybe when you are gone.

I want to be more cognoscente of the power of words, deep felt words. I want to take this opportunity to speak with presence and love and compassion. To go beyond "I love you" and "you have done so well", to teach my kids that speaking from the heart and offering true appreciation is something that can be done any evening at the dinner table. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to turn my living room into a kumbaya camp but I do want to live my life giving an receiving fullness to the best of our ability.

Births and deaths are a wonderful opportunity to make us brave enough to not just accept and give true love but to speak about to it. For this I thank you, my wonderful friends and the ribbon tied to my wrist reminding me that I am not doing this alone, nor do I have to.

Love,
Silvia

I yelled at my kid

Since this blog is my confession board, a place for accountability, I need to share how it felt to do the wrong thing.

It had been a long day and I had been feeling contractions, though only 32 weeks pregnant, all day. I get a call that I have to go pick up daddy at work and I try to hurry my son out the door (this is always a good time for him to slow down), then as I get him in the car seat he starts going noodle on me and butt heads me straight in the stomach. I hold on tight, squat on the floor and let out a big loud gibberish yell directed at him! For a split second I wanted him to hear how upset and exhausted I was. I wanted him to feel bad for what he did.

Immediately I felt ashamed. I asked him sorry many times, I turned to my normal, caring, gentle self and kissed his face asking for forgiveness. He was sobbing and visibly scared, he feared this mama who all at once went from 0 to 100. I felt more ashamed.

I think a lot about this incident, about why I had the urge to show him how I felt and make him feel bad for what he was doing though he had NO purpose in hurting me.
I think about the way little kids manifest their emotions, sobbing, yelling, thrashing on the floor, going boneless, throwing stuff, isolating themselves, etc. They have no choice but to be overrun by those strong feelings and let them take over their bodies, manifesting as they will.

Sometimes we are no different.

Tantrums are just a way of making a request that the parent isn't hearing or doesn't want to hear. I felt like I was throwing MY tantrum, I wanted him to hear it and stop fighting me, get in car seat and be OK with it. Because I had a "legitimate" request I felt as if it was OK to ask him to comply. But what is going on in a kid's mind when they too feel as they are making "legitimate" requests and they are being ignored or denied?

This incident brought me closer to him, and gave me more clarity on the type of model I want to provide for him, knowing that I will too lose it sometimes.

I hope this taught him the "right" lesson. It's OK sometimes to lose control and to feel remorse when we hurt others in the process.

I can see him sometimes hitting or pushing other children when they are holding on to a toy he wants or when they are simply in his way. He is asserting his independence, his presence. I try to bring him close to me and I ask him to show me what a gentle touch looks like, he soon caresses my face and tries to do the same with the child he has hurt.

I don't know if this is the right way of handiling this but it sure helps to be reminded of how many times I am unable to go to straight to gentle touch when my sense of self, independence or safety is being harassed.

Frozen in time

Generally speaking we never turn the TV on. We read, work with our imagination, play outside, get dirty! There is the occasional TV watching at his grandma's house that I am totally for, because what happens at omah's stays at omah's and the Ipad cartoon, say once a week, when we hit the very last resort.

So, shocker, that this mama decided to spend a rainy afternoon taking Tristan to his first movie show to watch Frozen. I am not sure what he saw in it...  but here is what I saw. 

Not surprisingly Disney is still frozen in time! 

While the story does elucidate on some "new" concepts such as love at first sight is bs and sisters' love can be stronger then romantic love, and family is whoever welcomes you (rocks animals or people), Disney is still making the same old mistakes:

- I saw ONE person of color in the entire movie

- Girls never wear pants, even when they ride horses and climb mountains

-  Little girls look quite proportionate but average BMI is no longer respected once they hit puberty, their waist is still the same size as when they were 5, their legs are incredibly long and skinny and their eyes and boobs don't give out the same famished look as the rest of their body does.

- Whether that is the happy ending or not girls still search for a husband, unless they are cursed. 

- Mommy and Daddy still have to die to create a good plot, WHY??!?

- Love is either between family members or between a man and woman, enough already!

So I wonder... what is Tristan learning from this? One viewing, probably nothing, other than a big WOW effect and that buttered pop-corns are delicious! 

But I think I'd like to be able to reason with him and ask questions to which he can answer while and after we sit and watch something else. I am afraid of TV for little people who are not yet verbal enough to tell you how they feel and what they think about they see. 

I woke up at every little noise last night expecting him to have bad dreams about the evil snow man or the people trying to kill the queen. He slept soundly but I am going to wait a long time before introducing him to 2 hours of this again.

No longer just a daughter

I remember that sense of inadequacy when my son was born. I thought I would just instinctively know how to be a mother, predict his needs, sooth him with the sound of my voice, be capable of using my breasts, arms and legs to do exactly what he needed me to do. The first 3 weeks were nothing like that.

My mother came to the rescue, she helped us bond and know one another, she seamed to be the only one in our new little family who knew how to calm him down from his daily colic events. She did this with absolute grace and grandmotherly love, with respect for the three of us and softness and compassion.

But as I watched my mother helped us I felt a loaded mix of love and envy.
Love, for this woman who had once held me like she was now holding my baby. This was no longer the woman I had numerous fights with as a rebelling teen, the woman who I felt resented my decision to move away at 18 and get married at 24, the woman who I had such a hard time connecting with on a intimate level (until then). This was a mother... and I was the baby she birthed and nursed and soothed.
Envy, because I could not do what she was doing, because I was still just a daughter .. because I was afraid of not doing the right thing with my son, and had to look up to her for help though I thought I would have just known by now exactly what to do.

I had to grow from just being a daughter to being a mother.

My mother left when my son was 3 weeks old and I was a mess! I felt as I could simply not master the abilities to be a mother without her help.
But a truly magical thing happened.The first 3 weeks are the hardest for the body, for the baby, for the whole adjustment of night and day routine to sink in. But a combination of time passing and us being the three of us alone for the first time...  I began to trust my instinct, I began to make decisions with my husband as a family, I began to believe in myself. My son and I now had it together!

We were where we needed to be: home.

Today, 22 months later, I smile back at those days. In some ways I am still a daughter but no more than I am a mother. I rarely go to my mother for help with my son, instead I go to my husband then my mommy friends, then the internet, FB... I wonder why that is... might it be because in making choices for my family I want to feel like a mother first and foremost and not like a daughter?!

As she is planning her visit for baby bean on the way I wonder how different this time around will be. Now, not only I can sure change new born diapers with one hand, on the side walk and while talking on the phone, but I have no insecurities about my role as a mother though I need to still work on my role as a daughter

.

where the heart resides

The way the sun feels today on my front porch, chugging on a bottle of water, my son sweetly napping, the chickens out of the coop, my feet up high, the sweet smell of a cherry tree blossoming to my right... just reminds me of you. Can a mom ever stop feeling like every moment of bliss is connected to her little ones?

The sun isn't shining because I birth you and held you skin to skin for so hours; though this warmth brings me back there. My body is not hydrating because you kiss me on my neck while you piggy-back-ride with me down the stairs every morning; though this moisture is as sweet as your kisses.

The seasons just roll over one after the other, careless that this is your first spring as a walking running person. Rain simply falls not concerned with the puddles it leaves behind where you stomp your feet amazed at the response you receive from the world around you. Squirrels run up and down our front porch careless that you are so intensely watching them behind the window making sweet sounds at their every move. 

And your baby brother/sister simply moves, pressing knees, elbows and heels against my internal organs and layers of tissues possibly unaware of your little hands touching my skin searching for "baby" and for intimacy and love and connection. 

I am still amused by my ability to turn everything into my love for you. Can my heart possibly keep growing? My friend posted a picture of her daughter the captions said "My heart resides outside my body". I thought, how true! Is that because her heart once resided inside your body, I wonder?

I have one heart residing outside and a two residing inside my body. Is that why the way the sun feels today is ever so sweet?

That too shall pass

On the verge of newborn #2 I reassured by one thought: That too shall pass.

Some of us had less then ideal deliveries. It took us weeks postpartum to not be in pain and even longer to feel good. Some of us had problems nursing, withholding tears while adjusting nipple shields and watching that little month suckling on plastic instead of skin. Some of us had a hard time reconciling with all that love and exhaustion. All of us, on some level, felt overwhelmed by all that it was suddenly demanded of us.

I also hear many happy stories, like Nicole who I was cautious about going to visit after baby because I remember how I didn't wanted to see or entertain anyone for weeks and instead she visits me when on a walk in the park 5 days postpartum. (I could barely walk to the bathroom by then) Or Rebecca who threw a Baby BBQ with her daughter only 2 weeks old and had people partying at her house till waaaay past bedtime. 

I cheer those women on, with a pinch of envy nonetheless, but I know that that was not me and that is not a lot of other new moms who struggle daily to find the resources within to be the mother they thought they were going to be.

The number one hardest thing about being a new mom, to me, was this overwhelming sense of foreverness. Will I EVER sleep a full night again? Will I ever brush my teeth in the morning again? Will my body EVER stop hurting? Will this child EVER connect with me and I with him? Will I EVER have sex like I did before something went literally through me? Will I ever care about what I am wearing again? Will I ever stop resenting men for not having a uterus? I mean,... yea... all those thoughts and then some..

And what does every experienced mom, pediatrician, lactation consultant and midwives tell you? "This too shall pass".

So this time, while I know full well that it's not going to be easy, that labor and delivery can go in unexpected ways, that my loosing sleeps mean loosing sense, etc. I also know that THAT too DOES pass. And as I sit here blogging while my almost 2 year old guy is taking a 3 1/2 hr long nap I am painfully aware of how I will not have this luxury when baby bean comes but I will one day say "that too did pass".

on gratitude

My son received his first stitches the other day, and I learned a lesson.

Dad and I held his squirmy swaddled up body down while the doctor and the nurse in urgent care placed 3 stitches on his forehead..
As soon as we released him, still sobbing, he gave out a loud "Thank YOU!!!".

So there it was: the most appropriate thank you I have ever heard him say.

As I have posted before I am not for asking my son to say Please and Thank you. I model and explain and listen but don't usually demand of him to say the magic word. When I do it it's mostly because I regrettably fall into the established habit of asking children to be polite, and almost 90% of those times I am in public.. (that's for another post).

In Italian one of the attributes assigned to "good kids" is that of being educato. Which doesn't stem as in English from their literacy level or the years spent in college but it's about one's manners, compliance and obedience, and might be better translated as politeness (although one might argue that maybe schooling is designed around building obedient people and so the English and Italian terms are not that far off from one another). Of course this doesn't just have to do with how well they sit at the table but also how nice they might be strangers. However, behaving well in its intrinsic sense is far more than, and sometimes not at all like, politeness.

My goal is to raise a kind, empathetic, intelligent human being. One who uses reason and logic and critical thinking. One who develops, and eventually shows gratitude and sorrow and appreciation.
Before being educato/ polite, I'd like him to be aware of his and others' feelings and understand why politeness might have a role in kindness (knowing that it is not always the case).

So on gratitude I am giving myself the following pointers:

1. Model- When someone, including him, is kind or helpful to me I make sure to say "thank you" and I make sure to mean it, then explain why I am thankful.
2. Don't demand- I refrain from asking him to repeat it after me. I want him to gather, little by little, the intrinsic value of powerful words like this.
3. Don't take it personal- I remain patient because I am OK with him taking a long time to add a "please" after a request or not saying he is sorry for something, however wrong it might have been.
4. Be attentive- I watch for other ways his body is expressing the feeling. I am OK with him smiling back or frowning as a way to communicate such feelings. As people ask him to say Thank You, I might say "I saw you smiled and that is a good way for us to know how you felt, thank you."
5. Listen- what is said between the lines might be disclosing far more then we think. Ask clarifying questions and don't assume that because he is not saying much he is indeed not thinking much.
6. Connect the dots- I explain that saying the magic words is just another way to reach societal expectations, to please others in a conventional way... and there is value in that. As Alfie Kohn puts it "Don't say thank you because you are afraid I'll get mad at you if you don't; that's a terrible reason. Don't say thank you because it's polite; that's not much of a reason at all. Say thank you because of its effect on the people you are thanking". And to this I would add, say it when and because you mean it.

As and adult I can only imagine how complex and developmentally challenging the outward expression of feelings like gratitude and sorrow might be to a little person and I am there to walk him through those feelings, to guide and be guided into the world of inner value of language.

Though he is too young now to verbally reason with me I believe it's never too early to practice these dialogues with him. I see every instance as an opportunity to set the pathways of conflict resolution, critical thinking and perspective taking. One day it would become an old habit that we both resort to whenever needed.

 Because the lesson I am learning and sharing is that these words in and of themselves are meaningless unless they are truly felt like when he was finally freed of the medical torture he was subjected to.

I TAKE IT BACK, 1 thing I want to say, or model, to my children

My latest post "10 things I don't want to ever say to my children" has been haunting me. That was not me. I believe every single word I wrote and .. I did it mostly to hold myself accountable. BUT, I have been feeling as if I was putting my newly experienced parenting techniques on a pedestal, above the crowed of parents who sure love their kids and work so hard everyday to be the best parents they can be. I do not want to give in the mommy war, the competition-filled and judgment-fueled way sometimes moms speak about themselves. I am here to take it back.

The first thing I should never say to my children is "Tell others how to be better people according to your values and principles". And "certainly, honey, make them a list!"
Instead, what I should do is model understanding for wherever someone is at in their unique relationship with their equally unique child. I should model humility for there is so much in families we don't understand, even in our very own. I should help them think about what are some of the reasons that mommy yelled NO! to her kid and that, although I may feel as that was harsh or unnecessary, we really do not know her story.  I should model empathy but also silence.

I want my children to treat themselves and others with kindness and respect, and I need to be the one doing it first. But not just to them! to everyone.

I am learning my lessons everyday. Today as we were having brunch, watching our son play in the play area 2 feet from our table, and enjoying our morning coffee. My husband noticed our son taking a toy out of child's hand. With firm voice my husband said to our son "Hey! Give it back! that child was still playing with it!". I lectured my husband on how, if he wanted to have an impact he should have gotten up and gone closer to our son and gently explained what he saw, let him let go of the toy gracefully (of his own will if possible) while focusing also on how the other child was feeling about the situation. I told him that he was acting out of convenience and he was "yelling and controlling" instead of "talking with and connecting".
What was I doing in all this??! sort of yelling and definitely controlling! In fact my husband, who agreed with me on principle, also added "You should think of that when you yell at me for leaving the toilette seat up".

Touche'!

So, as I reflect back on this, I realize that I owe my husband and apology. I also owe it to any parent who felt as I was preaching. Because, in truth, I kind of was. I preach to myself as much as I do, inadvertently, to others.

There is a fine balance we walk when we become passionate about something. While I believe that every child would be better off if they were treated with respect and empathy- love and logic instead of being yelled at, ordered around or worse, punished- that is not the whole picture. The fine line is that we may connect to our child while disconnecting to everyone else who is just simply having a rough day, a long month pulling double shifts, single parenting, having a child with a uniquely strong will, or feeling pressured by the environment they are in to say what they believe other expects of them.

I will very likely roll my eyes at some things I hear at the grocery store and continue to be annoyed by the toilet sit being up. But I should always try to act and re-act as if my 20 month old was watching me closely to learn just how things are do be done. And I am sure I will have to apologize many times to him and explain how fallible we all are.

Truly yours,
Silvia

10 things I don't want to ever say to my children

With a title like this I might be setting myself up for failure. Like any parent I need accountability and to acknowledge that I am not infallible but I try to be the best I can.

Parenting in public... I am glad I can just do it in Italian so people can go on and assume I am "managing" my child and I am telling him to "knock it off" if that pleases them. Meanwhile I am determined to not go there, not now that he is a little explorer not ever if we are building the relationship we want to have with one another.

I have started keeping my own actions and reactions in check. At lunch my little guy, 20 month old, is not sitting still, has interest in food but them wants to get off the high chair and check out the rest of the restaurant. I let him. I end up doing a combination of watching him from a safe distance and following him around, (and yes, guiding him out of the kitchen). He is happy. I am working harder then if I were just to sit and have my sandwich but this way I am happier too. Because instead of asserting control I am letting go of it where it's not needed.

 Now lots of people would say that I am letting my child run the show, so what? isn't he anyway? and worse, that this sets a precedent for unacceptable behavior... I couldn't disagree more! There will be times in which sitting down will be required and it will be frustrating for both of us, but letting him run around now only sets the precedent for trust. Trust that your parent is listening to your concerns and is willing to be flexible and work with you.

So here is a list of mis-conceptions I gathered from the way I was parented and witness others being parented:

1. "Say you are SORRY!/ PLEASE/ THANK YOU!" Asking a child to say Sorry and Thank You will not make them feel the sorrow (and want to get closer to the person effected by their behavior) or be thankful. It will just tell them how to quickly get out of the discomfort or get what they need.
2."No!" this is hardly ever as necessary as we think it is. Pause, do you really need to say no? What happen if you say yes? How many NOs we give for our convenience and or fear? How many do we give to truly protect the child? Meanwhile we are eroding the fun and trust between us.
3. Parents cannot be friends with their children. My mother actually set me down and said this to me when I was a kid. I agree, we are not just friends to them, but what the child is hearing is that we cannot be fun and mindless and silly, ever. 
4. Eat everything on your plate. my gawd... kids know how much is too much if we only listened to them.
5. "You can't!"- chances are.. technically they can! now, should they? or are there better ways to accomplish the same goal?... that is more of the question.
6. "We don't do this/that!"- who is WE? and have I, the parent, ever done that? (be jealous, made a mess, refuse to eat, scream, be board, etc?) chances are WE have done this/that or may be doing it as we speak (ever heard a parent raise their voice and say "We don't yell!", ironic, uh?)
7. "I am so proud of you when you/for ....."- how about I am so proud of YOU. period. sometimes that is ALL a child needs to hear and it will motivate them beyond measure, because we just deleted the line that defines their success, temporary or not.
8. "This hurts me more then it hurts you"- we don't know that! to project our feelings is to dis-empower them and to trap them into our own emotional spiral.
9. "I am saying this because I love you"- mostly related to when a parent is realizing how unfair something might seem to a child. Connecting love to a behavior or an outcome is never a good choice. Try just "I love you".
10. "Knock it off!" (or in my dialect "Abbozzala")-  knock off saying knock it off! Would you ever talk this way to any adult who is persisting in something you may find annoying? Chances are you would find a more diplomatic way of explaining how a certain action made you feel and find a solution together or by your self.

All of this takes time! I have intentionally slowed down most of our activities. Strolling to Yoga class usually takes us 20min? Well we now leave 40 minutes earlier, because when he is tired of sitting in the stroller now we have the time to do something different and stretch our legs. Getting in the car seat is sometimes a drama? Well now we leave plenty of room for negotiating what we can do before getting in the car seat, might just be as simple as playing with a toy for 5 more minutes.
And what when we don't have this luxury of time? Well, after having tried this for several days I realized that our relationship has gotten stronger and happier and that in times when we need to "speed things up a bit" my son follows along with more partnership. Our trust level for one another has gone way up. And I am loving every second of it, finding that in times of struggle we are both more resourceful!

Easy for me to say.. for once I am home with my son 24/7 AND so far I only have one child. But again, isn't it more important to try to always hold ourselves accountable and aspire to highest goals? So again, when it's no longer "easy" for me I know I have a bag of tools, and my child does to.

continue as lovers

At the end of my OB visits I always receive a spreadsheet with Dos and Don'ts about my stage in pregnancy. This may include suggestions on how to handle nausea or what to avoid eating, etc. This time it included a word of wisdom "Continue as Lovers". This, you might have guessed, is a reassurance that sex is OK during pregnancy. I love things like this on otherwise dry medical paperwork. It spikes things up a little!

Continue as lovers.. there is so much in this sentence.

I believe my husband and I are great at parenting together. We are totally on board with most of what we do with our son Tristan, we respect each others style and trust that we are doing the best we can while still guiding one another through the bumps of child rearing. Most of the times, that is.

When  Tristan was born we had to learn quickly that forgiving each other was a to-go-to tool when we acted or better re-acted in ways less then desirable. The exhaustion, the responsibility overload  and the new division of labor just made us miserable people sometimes. We had to forgive the off-handed comments, the envy that we felt for each others day routine (I envied him leaving the house while my son and I were both crying tired and messy, he envied me for being at home with our newborn catching every single minute of his amazing self). We also had to forgive each other for wanting or refusing to want intimacy. But ultimately we had to continue as lovers.

A child is born and your whole identity changes. You are no longer your mother's daughter, you are a daughter who is a mother herself. You can now dispute her authority, do things the way you feel they should be done (stuff for another post, I am sure!). You are also no longer just partners,... you are parents. There is no preparing for this, there is no warming up to it... it just IS.
In the beginning intimacy looks more like cuddling on the big bed with your 2 week old fascinated by his own fingers and having a night out becomes a breastfeeding interval race out the door. I remember our first dinner out. As I set down at the retaurant I scanned the room for babies wanting to see someone I could relate to. I also remember feeling ignored when the waiter, how dare, asked me if I wanted to order instead of asking to see a picture of our little guy. Going to the movies became the best "night-out" because it meant NO talking about our precious child! Unless of course the movie had a baby, a parent, a grandparent, a pregnant person or animal in it.. then you just gently squeeze your partner's hand knowing that he is thinking what you are thinking.

Continue as lovers.

As the months go by you simultaneously become more of a parent and less of just-a-parent. You regain partnership again! This feels good!  Maybe you went back to work, maybe you simply got better at being home (AND your child is sleeping through the night), but hopefully you got better at being individuals in your new role. Maybe you also got passed the bumps together and can now enjoy (in between new bumps, of course) being lovers, not as you used to- forget those young crazy kids- but as you are now, with a breast half full, with stretchmarks, with capable loving arms and hardworking legs and with hearts that grew in love, respect and admiration for how much both people have accomplished in just a few years.

I am hoping this will continue for us as we begin another chapter because there is nothing quite like being lovers.

Catching vomit

I am the finch setting off the revolution, instead of catching fire somedays I might just be catching vomit.. right in the palms of my hands and yes, my cleavage. It's fundamental to my sanity to keep a good sense of humor about life as a stay at home mom. Because stuff happens, and it doesn't. I read a genius post about a husband coming home and asking his wife "How was your day?" and her just being reminded once again that there is no short answer that accurately and fairly recounts her day. It was everything and nothing.

Someday you might catch vomit, others you just pretended to be a dragon for so long you began to feel some connections to those fire spitting creatures, and you are sad to realize that they never existed (crushing I know!). Mostly everyday is what my son and I experience together in this world and I know we only have less then 4 more months of just him and I fooling around all day before this stage in life changes, yet again.

I am beginning to feel incredibly sentimental about the NOW and I can't help but wonder about the nature and manifestation of all those sour feelings about having and choosing to stay home for a few years.
To my baby-crazy husband I would always say "if you are willing to be the main care giver we can have a baby now, otherwise come back in a few decades, I am busy building my life!".
I believed that, and I did until not very long ago. I was on a trajectory that to a no doubt successful academic career. I over-committed to working and volunteering for my community for fun. Although I respected SAHMs I was also puzzled about what they do all day? I could never do that.. I knew.

Staying home for the first year was easy and it was hard. It was easy because I had time to travel with our family, go to baby-mama yoga, sleep when he slept, meet other moms at the park and find a truly enriching (though at times too enriching) community. I could, and can just slow things down or speed them up to suit our mood. I have no lunch to pack and kid to get ready for day care, I have no guilt whether my son is seeing enough of his mamma, I have all this priviledges that I know lots and lots of parents long for.
But it was also hard... because I grieved over the person that I once was. I cried every once and again when I would read "Lean In" for my book club or when I came across some really motivated working moms who had a job they loved and wonderful kids by their side. I grieved for the "I can do it all" person that I was up to this point. I grieved for the intellectually challenging and stimulating and diaper-milk-vomit-free world my husband was living in every day form 6-7.

And... when I was done grieving, when I came to accept and more importantly enjoy my new self... well then, I wanted another baby! I am hoping this is NOT a pattern I am on to.

With the new baby on the way came a new realization.. that this, all of this: the joy and the grief is SO transitory, that everything changes so fast and, one of my favorite quotes, "the days might be long but the years are short".  Until I started living in the now and realizing the incredible experience I was having an I was about to lose to an ever changing life again... Until then I did not see catching vomit as an heroic gesture. But now, now I do.

So far, so good

I left home (Italy) when I was 18, traveled, settled, re-traveled, re-settled (Portland, OR). I always thought that that was all fun and games but once I was going to become a mother I would have really longed for being home. And thankfully, now that I have a little family of my own.... I AM home. But not the way I had imagine it to be.

This is an uncomfortable and mildly offensive topic. How do you reconcile with telling your very loving family, culture and country of birth that you are better off away from them? I have often opened up about this issue to people in my country and I almost always get an ouch! effect. Then I go on explaining the whys and hows... still ouch! But to me and to MY family it makes perfect sense and it doesn't even hurt. Maybe sometimes, but not as much as it gives us pleasure.

The pleasure I derive from growing my kids away from my home of origin can be simplify in one word: creativity! My husband and I can be creative about parenting, to the extend to which it becomes an item of contention every time we step foot off the international airport bound to take us back to my hometown. Here we can parent away from the reaction our creativity undoubtedly elicits when then and there.

Italy is no US, there family is in-your-face about how they feel about your choices and how you ought to do things differently... and catholic guilt runs the show. At least in my family. To be clear, my in-laws i the US never once dared telling us what to do. Well maybe a handful of times but always with a aura of respect for us and mostly we had asked them for suggestions.

When your folks tell you what is best for your child, how do you feel? compliant? defiant?  However good I feel about my motherly skills and my parenting style, in the back of my mind I start to feel insecure, am I doing it right? are our intuitions as new parents stronger and healthier then the advice my own mother and grandmother are giving me? In the end they had done this before!

No, they hadn't done THIS!

Because THIS is home. No "no-because-I-said-so" and no raising my hands on my son's face and no discipline made of punishments and rewards. THIS can best bloom on a new terrain, the soil certainly made and contaminated by previous inhabitants but transplanted on a new territory. Informed and not bound by its original state and turned over every season for air and nutrients.

I am sure my parents felt this to. And they structured their family to be better and stronger then the one they came from. They added creativity and novelty and trusted their own intuition before that of their ancestors. But I am also aware that with your family "checking on you" and sitting your kids and sending you to their doctor, etc. there is a lot less room for creativity, and I am glad I don't have to compromise that.

The sit back is HUGE.. my son is not growing up around his maternal grandparents uncles auntie and cousin. But again, neither am I and I am hoping that so far will be so good for as long as we stay home. Making the BEST out of it. In the end there is no other place I'd rather be.

Warrior Sunshine

I have a friend I met a few years before my son was born. A true warrior and a sunshine, imagine the dynamite combo. She has a third grader who is just the kind of boy I want my son to be, funny, gentle, sensitive and happy. She has raised him mostly by herself, while going to graduate school and working and being a vibrant present friend to everyone around her. Oh and this girl knows how to have fun!

As soon as I met her I thought to my self.. I want to be this kind of mama! Strong, proud, productive, positive and empathetic. The way she raised her son just made me want to be cared for by her! Her outside appearance is also as radius as her inside beauty, the kind of beauty that just shines through a smile, contagious, honest, unapologetic.  Or so I thought.

One hot sunny afternoon we meet at a friend's house to soak in her pool. Three women, one mama. I hadn't yet seen a young body changed by birth, and certainly I had no idea what mine could look like one day. As my warrior sunshine friend took off her clothes she soon apologized for the stretchmarks on her stomach and for the loose skin she had left on a once tonic perfect body. I was surprised, first to see that she had imperfections (or so what I once had thought of as being "imperfect") and then by the fact that here she was apologizing for something that she was, something that she had gained in the process of becoming the amazing mama I so aspired to be one day.

Forward to 2 years later, there I am delivering a 9.2lb baby boy who has just taken my body on a 0-360 revolution. I never had a slim figure (not since I hit puberty, anyway) and I was ready to embrace motherhood, however it manifested to me. In theory, in principle... I had enough of a feminist backbone to accept, embrace, own who I was becoming... in theory, in principle...

Around 8 months into my pregnancy my perfect bump and smooth skin began to crack. Sunshine rays started to come out of my belly button and spreading to my belly. I looked like I had a sun forming, smacked in the middle of my bump. I started applying anti-stretch mark lotion even more ferociously than before and I started to wonder... would I look like her? and would I apologize for it? what else did I have to come to grip with?

All along my husband kept down playing my concerns, "so what? why do YOU care? isn't this what feminism is against?You look beautiful, just own it!". I just shook my head and protested that he didn't get it, and neither did I.
Motherhood takes you for a spin. So many things change and so drastically and so rapidly that you have no time, rest, and intellect clarity to react to everything with the grace and love you were once capable of. Your breasts are sore, but that baby suckling looks so beautiful... your skin is loose and floppy but you can hold that baby on your hip like you were built around him, your hair is falling but when he curls it with his fingers it is excatly how it should be.

Then life goes on, your baby grows and you are no longer forgiven for looking like a mess, not by yourself not by the world around you. This time when my bump grew again and my stretchmarks began to design that sunshine around my belly button, my son traces them with his little finger, placing his toy car on them, like they are there for his wonder and entertainment. As I watch him do this I am overwhelmed with the sense of connection my body has to his. I am grateful for all that I have done to generate such beauty and I AM beautiful because of it. My beauty, once flat, expanded around me like rays of a sun and it is stronger and fuller then my mind was ever capable of understanding and it stretched beyond me.

My warrior sunshine friend YOU are beautiful and so am I.

Belly to Belly kiss

And so it begins... I was about to post my latest emotional process on FaceBook, and between a why-not and a WTF I realized that I was headed where so many SAHMs are, my own blog.
I need a place to funnel my thoughts that isn't my husband. Great listener, don't get me wrong, but just not as able to "like" my comments like 50 strangers can on FB. I need gratification inside and outside my intimate family sphere. is it bad? Guess if you are reading this then you are up for some escapism to.

My second pregnancy, the one my body is currently hosting, was 100% intended. In love with our little guy and missing the early months (believe that!) we just could not wait to see how much more love we could grow in our hearts. That ... AND a seriously crazy dose of love hormone just spiraling around, the kind that makes you forget about stuff like: recovering from birth, sleepless nights, potty training while nursing, and do I need to go on?
So after the we-have-to-get-pregnant-this-second! (which turned out to be as quick as I wanted it to be) came the realization that we were all in it for the long run and what that meant to me more then anything... my son was not going to be the one and only guy I get to spend each and everyday playing with. Months of nausea and exhaustion followed, as they often do.

While pregnant with my first, I welcomed every single annoying sign of creation, because it meant he/she was there sticking to the plan. I welcomed the nausea like a sign of "morning mom!" form a smiley unknown child of mine. I welcomed the frequent night trips to the bathroom like time for companionship as he/she was getting up with me and walked with me alone in the dark... I cheered at food cravings and food annoyances because it meant that this little inhabitant had his/her own mind about stuff and I was learning to go along with it. I welcome it all. especially since it was an easy pregnancy and I could take all the TLC I wanted from my hubby, from my community and from myself.

A week into the second pregnancy I KNEW I was expecting, and not just because I was baby-crazy but because I could smell a squirrel peeing in the back yard. I knew it even though the test came negative for 2 weeks. I was sick every morning and all day for weeks, I could not sit in the passenger seat or else I would barf, eggs made my stomach turn and I just could not keep my self together. I did not welcome ANY of that. Instead I became overtaken by a sense of defeat and guilt. Was I not able to be fully present for my son? Was this nausea preventing me from making delicious nutritious food for us (because Trader Joe's frozen food became our only option)?  Was I already taking attention and dedication away form my little guy? And what about the baby#2? How was I supposed to play music to the belly, talk to the baby, go to pre-natal yoga twice a week and go to the pool and enjoy us floating together like I did with my son?

At 7 weeks we got hit by a car, our car was totaled but my son was OK. My sister-law called to make sure we were all OK and suggested I go to the ER to check on the baby's heart beat. In shock I replied that clearly my baby was fine, sure he was shaken by the event and sore but his heart was beating, he was eating a cookie on my lap. Well... not that baby, she said.. they OTHER one! Oh... right... I my mama bear mod, protecting my cub by ensuring he was eating enough chocolate before going to bed because we were just so greatful he didn't get seriously hurt... I had totally forgotten... This is sad, I though...

Time passed by and as I grew I allowed myself to connect a little more with baby bean, who went from baby #2 to baby bean... big step as a mama friend of mine pointed out that baby #2 was a little inappropriate, detached perhaps.. She was right. But I felt detached, my language reflected that.

As soon as I started showing, my son was much quicker then me at connecting to the baby. He started puffing up his tummy and pointing at mine saying "Baby?!". It became our game. I would massage the belly with the anti-stretch mark lotion and he would massage his or mine. My hubby would put his hands on my tummy to feel the kicks and he would join in not sure what we were all waiting for.

Then yesterday morning...it clicked! I connected! 23 weeks pregnant and I finally fully marvelously connected to my baby bean.
As my son woke up in the morning, I went to pick him up from his bed and instead I decided to crawl into his crib with him, to cuddle in his bed a little bit. This is part of the indulgence of spending extra quality time him and I alone before the sibling comes. He was happy to see me there, he lifted my pijama top up to uncover the belly bump and zipped down his pijama and laid there skin to skin, belly against belly whispering "baby" and blowing kisses. Is there ANYTHING sweeter than this?! I fell in love all over again, this time not for my son but for my CHILDREN! My little amazing sweet man had just showed me that in fact we were ALL indulging in cuddles and alone time that morning, all three of us.
I realized that I had been feeling guilty not just towards my son for not having him as my one and only but also to the unborn baby for not giving him/her the love and attention I dedicated to my first pregnancy. Yesterday morning I forgave my self and I went on realizing that YES I have been approaching this pregnancy differently and YES I have been less attentive to his/her presence but that was OK because I was giving him/her things that I was NEVER able to offer my first born: A BROTHER!
And beyond that! Differently from my first pregnancy I now know the extend to which I can love a newborn, I know how essential and empowering and time limited labor is, I know how much our hearts can grow, I know what an amazing, fun, empathetic, smart, supportive, feminist and all around awesome daddy they have and I know that I GOT this!

Thank you Tristan for showing me all this in a belly to belly kiss yesterday morning!