Author Archives: Murphy

Not about me

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I made it through the first day back at work. Four months ago, actually 137 days ago, I left work a swollen person, but I was recognizable to myself.

In the ensuing days between I went through permanent and profound changes. When Veronica came out of me, she had her little fingers spread out (in a way that has become familiar to us now) and she was looking hard at her hands. It’s as if she was thinking “That’s what these are! That’s what they look like! That’s who I am!”

I’ve found myself saying similar things to myself. That’s what this is? That is who I am? This is what it feels like? When Veronica was born into a new life, so was I. It was unfamiliar and terrifying. Also, it was featureless; the landmarks I had learned to use in my life up to then were nowhere to be found and I was completely lost.

I was desperate to find my way from one hour to the next–from one second to the next! I was in so much pain and so exhausted and none of that mattered at ALL because I had a very big 8 pound 10 ounce load of responsibility to carry and it was heavier than the whole world.

As a matter of fact, the world had disappeared and I was afraid I had disappeared along with it. I was ALONE.

But then people reached out to me. I was in deep dark water, but like pings to a submarine in the dark, people reached out to me and gave me reassurance. There were emails and texts and lots of phone calls when I breathlessly told all about what was going on and what I was learning and trying to do. I was trying to say how things were going to be okay, and if I said it enough times I might learn to believe it.

People who loved me listened to me and told me that it would be okay. I was lifted up by a multitude of hands and carried out to when it finally was okay. I was so needy and people gave me what I needed.

A lot of what I learned is to get past what I needed. My daughter needs me and she can’t wait for me to get around to her. I have to get over myself and what I think I need. Even what I really think I really need. Sleep? I need that. But I’ll have to not need it for a while. Food? Going to the bathroom? I need those, but they come second. Because it’s not about me.

It was SO HARD. It was so relentless.

And now, it’s not that it’s over, but I’m at work and I get a break. An 8 hour break where the need relents.

It’s Daddy’s turn now. Mommy is at work.

And I want to tell him all about how to do it right. I’ve spent so much time with her and HE HASN”T. I know how this works and I know what she needs and there was been a PLAN and things are going WELL according to the plan. I have all this hard-earned experience and skill now and he needs to hear it.

Not only hear it but APPRECIATE all I’ve learned and appreciate ME. Because I need to be appreciated.

only…i just learned that it’s not all about me. and it’s not about what i need. i don’t necessarily need what i think i need.

What I need to do is find the answer that is not about me. When Chris tells me “She cried unless I walked around holding her while we listened to the annoying nursery rhyme CD!” I don’t need to say WHAT DO YOU THINK I’VE BEEN DOING FOR THE LAST HUNDRED AND THIRTY SEVEN CENTURIES?!

I don’t need to say “If you just held her in this one way while showing her this particular toy and …and…she would stop crying!”

I need to find the answer that’s not about me.

Cube

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I’m back in my cubicle. First time this year. In a lot of ways, it feels exactly the same.

I promised myself to take it easy. Usually I break that promise, but maybe I have learned something since I had a baby. I feel like I have.

I’m not stressing about being away from Veronica. I feel like her daddy will do a fine job. I worry a little more about him, that he will find it difficult. But then, I found it difficult at first too. So I am not uncomfortably worried. I”ll be home before too long.

I have a huge huge amount of things to write about. I will get around to it. For now, I am taking it easy and not pushing it.

Sooo charming

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I remember when my mother and I took a walk (for homeschool P.E. credit) around the block in -20 weather. It was windy too!

A little cat was outside. This cat wanted to be inside with us. She followed us for a mile. She found our sliding door and shivered dramatically outside until we finally let her in.

Mom was resolute. It took her more than a day. But she lived with us for years. She looked vaguely Asian, so we called her Chang.

Stray cats can be very pursuasive:

She’s not new

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Today is Veronica’s 3 month birthday. ‘They’ say that after three months, she is no longer a newborn and graduates to being an infant.

She is so much more capable now, that seems right. She started out barely able to do anything, but now she can can barely do a lot of things. She very adept at crying, and also very good at smiling. For both, she’ll put her whole body into it.

When she is delighted, she’ll open her mouth into a big happy “o” and shake her head from side to side. Even her hands and feet get into the act, with her fists scrunching up and her feet kicking like crazy. All this because I tell her she’s a good girl!

She is a good girl.

fountain

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So Chris is bottle-feeding little V for her one o’clock feeding. We are preparing for the hand-off. Bottle feeding gives him bonding time and begins to allieve my fears that my mammaries are starving the child. She’s so little and stringy, and bottles are so conveniently marked with quantities. He feeds her a huge bottle of milk from the frozen stash I’ve been collecting for the purpose.

When he was done he asked “Where should I put her?”

I usually want to start yelling at him when he asks me things like that because, after all, he is going to be taking care of her all by himself in very very few days and why can’t he figure it out on his own?

But then again, probably the reason he feels the need to ask is because I would tell him “She likes being over HERE, not THERE where you in your ignorance put her.” And who likes to hear that? so he asks.  And I bite my tongue and say “Maybe she would like to sit in her chair.”

She often likes to sit in her chair.

I was finishing reading a webpage when Chris said with alarm “Baby! Come here! She just spit up a bunch.”

Of course my first thought was  “Babies Do that and why can’t you handle something so ordinary?” He is after all going to be taking care of her ALONE without me to yell for in a very short time.

He kept calling, “It’s really a lot. I think she threw up the whole bottle.”

So I got up and went to see. She seemed happy, biting her bottom look and staring at Daddy with a wrinkled forehead.

“She’s fine.”

“You didn’t see it!”

Then I saw her clothes were all wet, so I picked her up to go change her, still thinking ‘you’re going to have to do this all by yourself soon!’ and then I realized her chair had a puddle underneath her. And dining table chair beneath her chair had a puddle. And so did the floor.

So I guess changing the baby was the easy part. Chris had to clean up all the milky spit up, making sure the dog (dogs can be disgusting) didn’t get there first. He also dismantled Veronica’s chair and ran it through the laundry.

Because it really WAS that much, and because I am still worried that I am starving my child with the primitive non-measurable mammary method, I thawed some more milk and fed her again. Now she’s stuffed and sleeping to her goodnight CD–Harry Belafonte singing “Jamaican Farewell”

Back on the train but still at the station

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I talked before about how my days while home with Newborn Veronica were not 24 hours long, but actually only as long as the time between feedings. Today, 12 weeks after she arrived, that feels like a long time ago.

I’m so glad that it feels like a long time ago. I feel so kneeling-at-their-feet grateful to the many people who have been encouraging and helped me through this incredibly unexpectedly difficult time. What with bringing this new person into the world, and being so embraced and upheld by so many people already here, I feel a respect and kinship with the human race I’ve never felt before.

And, amazingly, the clock has started ticking again. Days begin and progress and end now. And then a new day starts with reassuring regularity. Before, I could not really believe that next week would arrive, and I had to use all the faith I had learned to practice to get from the present into the future. The future didn’t seem to be part of my existence. The present which was fill with achey muscles and a demanding little body that was not part of my body anymore.\

But the future merged onto the edge of the present again and my life is ordered the way I’m used to. Sort of.

I have a strong feeling that nothing will ever be the same again. But before that scary thought steals all my oxygen (again), I realize that I’ll find a way to fit in the important pieces. Just like I learned to eat and unload the dishwasher with one hand because the other arm was holding a sleepy baby, I’ll learn to fit in what I need to.

Meanwhile, I’m still waiting to get back to my “real” life, aka my JOB. That’s 18 days away. I look forward to putting on headphones and wading through piles of email for a WHOLE hour uninterrupted. Of course, I’ll have to do that for a whole 8 hours…and those 8 hours will be a long time to be away from my little one. I know my arms will ache in a different way, from not carrying.

But I know I’ll be leaving her in good hands.