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Ruby came home tonight after 3 days away. Often when she comes home I feel her disconnection and distraction and even anger towards me. Tonight, I wanted to nip that negativity immediately... but it's so hard to know how. So tonight I decided to keep constant touch/interaction with her. I held her the whole time we were up and about. I talked to her and asked her to look me in the eyes. It took some prompting, but she did. Phew. One hurdle down. Putting her clothes and overnight bag away, with her propped on my hip, I told her about my weekend of cleaning the car and visiting with friends. I asked her about hers. She didn't have much to say except that she ate cereal. She wasn't too stinky, so we left the bath for tonight and I put her in her jammies and let her help with her oils. I let her pick out a few books and we spent 45 minutes snuggled in her bed, with her head resting on my shoulder and my arm around her. I could feel her melt into me. When I told her it was time for lights out, I could feel her anxiety and twitchiness begin. She needed a drink. To potty. A snack. Finally, she asked to "wock" (rock). I didn't hesitate. I picked up her and her blanket and went to the rocking chair. With all the blinds closed and no noise but the white hum of the fan, we rocked. She laid against my chest with her head resting on my shoulder and I told her how happy I am that she is home. How much I missed her. How much I love her. I asked her if she was happy to be home. She nodded her head against my shoulder and whispered "Yes." I could feel her melt back into my arms. I could feel the tension leave her body and in my mind I did everything I could to absorb any and all of the yuck in head, heart, and soul. Her arms were wrapped around my neck and her hands were twisted in a cluster of my hair at the nape of my neck. When her breathing became heavy and her fingers stopped twitching, I knew she fell into a deep enough sleep to move her. I untangled her fingers from my hair and laid her back to rest in the crook of my arm. I stared at her face for what felt like infinity. I prayed.

Sometimes it feels to me that motherhood is more emotionally... I don't want to say draining (because it's not that negative; it can be at times, but it isn't always), but maybe expensive (?), than anything. As mothers, we give our time, our attention, our efforts, our skills, our money... but none of that even comes close to what I give my daughter of my heart. While Ruby was away, I spent my weekend cleaning, cooking, doing laundry, shopping, preparing, preparing, preparing. Prepping for the week ahead. Healthy food to help her grow big and strong. Nice, clean clothes for her to wear. Clean and fresh house to make her feel comfortable at home. Organizing her toys, books, bedroom. Anything. Everything. To make her safe and secure. But all of that pales to the time and energy I took in thinking about her. Praying for her. Hoping, thinking, planning. Every thought I had about Ruby the voice in the back of my head whispered, "God, please let her have a good day." "Please let her sleep well." "Please take care of her." Please, please, please...

There is a quote floating around that says something like "Perhaps my mother wasn't so tired all the time because of the physical. Maybe she was exhausted from so much feeling." It's true. It's so true. I give Ruby everything of me. Most of the time it doesn't feel like enough.

Tonight, it felt like enough.

It feels, at this point in our journey, that the only thing that has mattered, that does matter, that may ever matter, is that I love my daughter well.

Dear me

Dear 50-year old Heidi,

Tonight, Tuesday, July 8, 2014, Ruby came home after a 2 night stay away. She struggles with these changes often, as do you. Do you remember that? How you fought to stay busy to keep the hours from crawling by? How you tried not to scroll through the pictures of her on your phone too often because the lonesomeness would settle into your bones until you couldn't eat. Couldn't think. Couldn't sleep.

Well, she came home tonight and as always a few days from her, you found renewed patience and even greater adoration for her. After painting, a snack, and bath time, Ruby begged for a movie. Pooh was her movie of choice tonight, as it is every night for your 2.5 year old. Tonight, you just wanted to snuggle her close. You wanted to hear her voice and have her hear yours and talk. But nights like these, when she has been gone a few days are hard. She is often distant and disconnected. Tonight you needed to reconnect. You picked out a few books that we don't often read, because Ruby refused to do it as she was still hell-bent on watching Pooh. You gathered her water, her blanket, and books and crawled into her bed. She reluctantly joined you. We read Ferdinand tonight and for the first time she seemed very interested in this book. That made you happy as this is one of your favorites. We also read a book of nursery rhymes and finished off with "Eeyore, Be Happy!" So Ruby could get her Pooh fix.

As you read, you kept one eye on Ruby. You studied her profile. Her perfect, tiny nose and her full cheeks and the way her heavy eyelashes gently curl. Her tiny chin that looks so much like yours. You admired her shiny hair in braids and watched her hands twitch in her lap as she listened. As you read, a movie reel played in the back of your mind of the progression of bed-time routines over the 2.5 years that have lead up to this night. Rocking her and giving her a bottle with Susan Lee's voice trickling through the tiny, dark apartment -- wasn't that just yesterday? It sure feels like it... and then in the next moment, it feels like it was a million years ago. Oh, how my heart aches today--missing those baby moments, the snuggles, the whispers, and rocking in the dark. It became a physical ache tonight as you were reading to Ruby. Remembering...

After we were done with stories, you turned out the light and for the first time in weeks, Ruby wanted you to curl up with her until she fell asleep. You laid quietly and she turned and twisted and fidgeted and forever reached to run her fingers through your hair. That was her biggest issue: finding a comfortable enough position in which she could still reach your hair. It's always been soothing to her and I hope you remember that no matter how painful or annoying it could be, it bonded us like nothing else.

Tonight, you realized that not long from now, you will miss this with your whole heart. This curling up and sharing good books with your daughter. The dark, the quiet, the smell of oils on our skin. The singing, prayers. The comfort of routine. Tears form as I type this because a little part of me misses this right now. It's still happening, she hasn't outgrown this stage yet, and already you are missing it. Heidi, I hope you always remember how much you have adored being Ruby's mom. How much it has fulfilled you and given you so much joy. I think there will be difficult years ahead and probably times when you and Ruby don't like each other much or when things get so difficult that you don't know where to turn. I want you to remember these nights with Ruby, when she was small, and how you felt like you didn't need anything else in the world. How you felt so complete. I want you to remember the pride and laughter she gave you. The uncontainable joy... Remember, always, how blessed you are to have her in your life.

All my love and best,
Heidi
Age 32

Books

This morning I was feeling a bit twitchy. Not anxious really, but just unsettled and unfulfilled. These uncomfortable feelings stem from a multitude of things: bucketloads of stress, uncertainty at work, not enough sleep or exercise, a 2 year old who has turned into the stereotypical 2-year old overnight, among other, less obvious reasons. I have noticed that when I feel twitchy, I turn to electronics: tv, computer, phone… to avoid my twitchiness. I should have recognized it this weekend and nipped it, but failed to see the cause of my need for distractedness. By this morning (Tuesday) my twitchiness had escalated enough that it was hard to distinguish it from anxiety. When my lunch hour approached, I did not even know what to do with myself. Every option of a 1 hour, lunch-time activity scrolled through my brain in all caps and exclamation marks. I needed to withdraw. As I walked to my car, I was scrolling through my phone… “Distraction, distraction, nothing is distracting enough... Social Media, save me from myself!”  

It suddenly occurred to me what I needed to do. I stuffed my phone in my purse and raced to the bookstore. For a solid hour, I walked the aisles of books upon books. Just being near them and smelling the paper and glue scent calmed me. I felt connected to something when I hadn’t felt connected to much in days. The twitchiness and anxiety drifted away as I read paperback covers, ran my fingers over the etching of hard cover best sellers. My eye caught one author after another – books I have read and books I have kept on my mental list of “Must reads.” I picked out 4 books to buy.  

I treasure books. I love them. I adore them and when I see people writing in books, tearing out pages, or trashing them in any way my heart breaks. Even if Ruby scribbles in her Elmo book with a blue crayon, my heart breaks. She now knows to respect books like I do. Books contain knowledge, thoughts, ideas, opinions, photos, artwork… They contain many of the beautiful things in life in a small stack of paper. I think of the author working, working, working on what is on those pages. The hours and time and dedication… the planning, thoughts, research… All for $12.95, now YOU TOO can access the secrets of the world.

For years and years, I was a very avid reader. I remember having to hide the light from my lamp as a kid because I would be awake reading until the wee hours of the morning and if Mom saw the light, she would get so mad at me! But, I couldn’t stop. I’d sneak a flashlight in my room, if I had to, just to read a few more pages. When I was older and in the throes of my depression reading was a life raft. When I couldn’t bear the reality of my world and pain, I could sink into a book and forget for a few hours and drift off in someone else’s thoughts or world. After I found out I was pregnant, except for “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” or “The Complete Single Mother,” I didn’t have the brain capacity to read a book and follow for more than a few pages. Sadly, I still don’t. I try to read now – but I can only manage 4 or 5 pages before I either become too tired or too distracted to continue. It is not the issue of finding a good book; it is the issue of finding the concentration and energy to read. But today, when walking the aisles of the bookstore the desire to read about something other than Winnie the Pooh hit me so hard I was daydreaming about grabbing a half dozen books and going home and reading the afternoon away on a blanket in the lawn. Even being near the books gave me comfort. They felt familiar and safe – in ways that I have not felt in a very long time.

I look at the rows and rows of books and I feel like there are people out there who get me. They must get me, to love books so well, to love words and beautiful phrases as much as me. I looked at the philosophy section and it was one narrow shelf, only partially filled… and the poetry section was smaller yet. Then I looked at the rows and rows of romance and mystery shelves and they were half the length of the store. Then I figured that maybe there aren’t that many people who understand me after all. 

I left the store with 4 books. Three of the books were on my “must read” list and 1 book was a spontaneous book of poetry. I am going to make a more concentrated effort to put aside my phone and pick up a book. Electronics drain me. Books fill me. How could I have forgotten this about myself? In addition to reading, I need to write more. It makes me feel aware and connected in ways that I don’t feel doing anything else. I think what it all boils down to is filling my energy sources with things that I love – things that fulfill me. I have lost or forgotten this side of me when I have been so busy being a mother; an employee; a responsible, contributing member of society. I pour my energy into everyone else and when I am drained, grumpy, and lifeless, I look down to realize that my cup is empty. I haven’t done anything for myself to fill it back up.  

Thoughts

The last few weeks and the challenges they have brought have led me to look at the blessings I have in my life. This past weekend, I had Ruby with me and it was so wonderful. Friday night we hung out at home and relaxed. Saturday I had her pictures done and then an afternoon with family at the Shrine Circus. After the circus, everyone came to our house for supper and visiting. It was an awesome day and Ruby got to see family and play with her cousins, who she loves so much. But Saturday, she was a whole new level of exhausted. Sunday, we stayed home in our pjs all day. The weather was gloomy and windy and it gave me a good excuse to not leave the house. Since my time with Ruby has been somewhat scarce lately, I left the chores waiting. I snuggled Ruby as much as possible. We played, goofed around, and laughed. I haven’t seen Ruby that relaxed and “herself” in months. There were no fits, no tears, no potty accidents, no struggles. It did my heart so much good to have that time with her.

The last few months it has been difficult for me to be a full-time working mother. It always has been, but the last few months have been especially difficult as I see the changes in Ruby’s life and how she struggles to adjust to them. Ruby has always been a pretty confident, vivacious child, and with these changes I can see some of those qualities fading. I’m sure some of it is natural, but when she gets clingy and snuggly and I know she just needs some extra reassurance from me… it’s so difficult to leave her at daycare. I know she is in good hands, but I also know that there is no place like mama’s arms. All along, I would have loved to be home with her. I think that is what God intended—that mothers raise their children. I can’t do it alone as I also have to buy groceries and pay the rent. Every single morning I drop Ruby off at daycare, a little voice in the back of my head says “This isn’t how it is meant to be” as my heart breaks as I hug her good bye. I know daycare is great for Ruby. She’s very social and loves interacting with other kids. I also know work is good for me. It gives me another purpose and social interaction and learning… but, oh, how my heart aches to be home with my little girl.

That isn’t the way it can be at this point, so I make the most of our evenings and weekends. And when another work morning rolls around, I feel a hollow sadness in my heart. I hate saying goodbye. Last night I posted on Facebook:

"When Ruby and I got home tonight, she was extra clingy and snuggly. This is not typical, so I sat down with her in my lap and asked her what was up. With our foreheads pressed together she looks me in the eyes and says, "I miss you." If only I could tell her (and make her understand) that I am never far away. I look at the clock to time her day as much as my own. I always carry her in my thoughts, my heart. Always. I could tell her, but she will never understand... not, at least, until she becomes a mother herself."

 

When I posted that, I had tears streaming down my face. What I couldn’t write or even admit at that moment is that I miss Ruby more than words can say when she’s not with me (I guess maybe it was implied). She is my favorite person to be with and I want to be with her. I love waking up to her beautiful face in the morning and I love that she’s the last person I speak to before I go to bed. When other moms say that they can’t wait to get a break from their kids (or even admitting they don’t like their kids), a little piece of my heart shatters. Oh, how I would do anything to know what that feels like! Ha! I feel I never have enough time with Ruby… I can’t ever imagine getting sick of her. There are times when we have had tough day – she’s crabby, sick, or teething, or maybe I’m just a grump and nap time or bedtime can’t come soon enough. But then, always, I stand a while and watch her sleep and I’m reminded of what a blessing she is. Even when things are hard.

I don’t claim to be a good mom. I know I screw up more often than not. I don’t claim to have any or all of the answers. All I know is that I love Ruby with my whole heart. No one on earth loves that child more than me. I know that my gratitude for the blessing she is could have me falling to my knees and sobbing with thanks every night. I know that she has saved me from myself in countless ways. I know that I will do whatever it takes to raise her right and provide her the tools she needs to navigate this crazy world as an adult. I know that God loves me and forgives me because He has blessed me with her. I know that God loves Ruby because He has given her a mother who loves her more than life itself. 

So, sure, circumstances in our lives right now may not be ideal, but I’ll never forget that I am the lucky one who gets to call herself “Ruby’s mommy.”

As a woman

who has a child, who is both female and biracial, this resounds within me. I'm conscious of this every day.

As a woman who works in a scientific industry - with 150+ scientific researchers - of whom only less than 5 of those researchers are female, this resounds within me. I'm conscious of this every day.

Ruby, you are female. You are biracial. But you are not only those things. You are full of intelligence, creativity, love, and busting at the seams with unimaginable potential. Don't let anyone—not me, not you, not friends, family, or society tell you what you can and cannot do. Do what you love, seek to enhance the gifts God has given you, and rise to your full potential.

This is my wish for you.

http://www.upworthy.com/neil-degrasse-tyson-reveals-that-hes-been-black-his-whole-life-hilarity-and-wisdom-follow?c=hpstream

Treading

Lately, I’ve been treading very deep into my brain, which isn’t often the smartest place for me to be treading. My thoughts feel sunk so far deep into my head that I often don’t recognize the action around me. One morning, as I was getting Ruby and I situated in my car, preparing to leave for work and daycare, I had to unzip my jacket because I couldn’t remember if I had put on a shirt. So, yes, that far into my brain, so far that I am unaware if I have dressed myself or not.

Anyway, I tend to do this when I get stressed or I have decisions to make and I am not sure why I have to go so deep in my brain because usually the answers are right there on the edges and in the light. No need for getting the waders out and sinking myself in, but I guess it’s the way I am wired. I have to process things and to do that, I sink into myself and ruminate and usually the ruminating creates some ugly moods. I think of all the things that should be or could be and things that just aren’t. It puts me in a foul mood because usually the things that could or should be or aren’t, are because of choices I have made. I have very much lived my life in a reactionary position instead of an action or purposeful position. I am trying to fix that but I have to undo some of the hardwiring that is already in me and change the way I think and, ugh, it’s exhausting.

Anyhow, after a particularly deep and dark trekking through my brain the last couple of weeks and my mood sinking into something foul and grumpy, Ruby snapped me out of it. She said she was mad at me one night. I asked why and all she said was, “Because!” I realized that I had been a grump and probably not much fun and asked if that was why she was mad at me. She agreed. That was worse than a slap to the face. At that very moment, I decided that I’m putting my best foot forward every day – I need to focus on that (putting this into action, instead of my mood and feelings being reactions to the circumstances of my day). I had been doing so well at that – to wake every morning and think about how I could be the best mom or best version of me that day – but that had slipped to the wayside as the stress and decisions piled up. So, I reset myself and am focusing on staying positive and even if I have to travel to the depths of my brain and heart, then maybe along the way I can find the positives, whatever they may be. In seeing the positive in life, I realized it is much easier to do when I feel gratitude. To feel thankful for all the blessings in my life, but also all the challenges. The challenges I am facing now, are because I have Ruby, responsibilities, a home, job, and loved ones. It means my life is full of good things, but along with good comes the bad. It’s a package deal, always. So, I need to be grateful for the “bad” things too, which is difficult to do. But when I pray, “Thank you, God, for blessing me with my car, even though I know it has maintenance issues. I know it’s a package deal. So I thank you for it all. Thank you, God, for blessing me with my job, even though I feel there is more I can be doing with my life, I have a paycheck. I know it’s a package deal. So I thank you for it all. Thank you, God, for our home, even though it’s a rental and not something I can truly call my own, I know it’s a package deal. So I thank you for it all.” Doing this lifts my heart. I physically feel lighter, the sun seems brighter, and I feel like I can come out of my own head a little bit…

 

Something to remember

Last night was the second night Ruby has slept in her big girl bed all through the night. I say “all night” loosely. When she had fallen asleep in her bed and I was closing the door behind me, I could see her in the light of Dora the Explorer nightlight. I felt lonesome for her; I missed hearing her stirring in the night when we shared a room. I missed the all nighttime snuggle sessions. I missed the smell of a clean and sleepy Snugglebug curled up against me.

Last night at about 3:30 a.m. I heard motion in the hallway. I sat up, wondering if my ears deceived me. Nope. I could see her silhouette by the nightlight in the hallway.

“Mama?” She whispered loudly.

“Yep, baby girl. I’m right here.”

“Mama!” Ruby’s feet quickly ran across the carpet and she was at my bedside in a second.

“Hi Rubes. Do you want to snuggle with Mama?”

“Yesth.” I could hear the smile in her voice.

I pulled her up into the bed with me and started rearranging pillows and blankets when she reminded me that she didn’t have her blanket or Baby June. So I told her to stay put while I went to fish the blanket and her baby from her big girl bed. When I got back to my own bed, Ruby was curled up in the middle of the bed, as always, and I had to shove her over a bit. She giggled, as she always does when I pushed her over. I curled up next to her and tucked Baby June in her arms and snugged her blanket around her. She curled up to me, her head tucked under my chin and her beautiful little arm curled around my neck. She was whispering so softly I couldn’t hear what she said. Finally, I caught “…so much…” She was telling me she loves me “so much.” It's our little inside joke - to see how dramatic we can say "so much." My heart was never fuller than that moment.

She shifted and adjusted and played with my hair in the quiet of the darkness. She whispered a few more times and I told her, “Ruby, try to sleep.” She shifted again, curling her back against my chest, and she raised one arm so that she could continue to touch my face. I felt her body settle against me. As always happens when I wake in the middle of the night, I do a quick calculation to see how much more sleep I can get before my alarm goes off. Last night, I did the same quick calculation, but it wasn’t to see how long it was until I had to get up; it was to see how much longer I had to snuggle with my little girl. Instead of wishing for another hour of sleep, I wished for another hour of snuggles with her.

I write this so that 20 years from now I will remember. I will remember how small her beautiful little body was and how lightly she carried herself. I will remember her little lisp when she says “yes.” I will remember these moments of love and tenderness instead of the moments of exhaustion and frustration (even though there have been surprisingly few of those tougher moments…).

I’ll remember how much love and comfort having her near gave me. How it felt like I could never be happier than in that moment.