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Introducing “Dear Lady Jane” – letters to my daughter

Posted on February 18, 2016 by Naomi

You’re supposed to “write what you know” and I definitely know my 7-year-old daughter. Sometimes I treat her as I would an adult, though most of the time, I have to censor what I say. There are times when I wish she were an older friend so I could share with her some of the things she says or does and we could both laugh or just generally get a kick out of her behavior. Other times, I wish I could give her more explanation or stories for why something is the case. Someday, I hope, I will get to share some of my past experiences with her that may be of value to her. In the meantime, I decided to start writing these thoughts down, recording aspects of her childhood and of myself that perhaps I will share with her when she is older. Maybe it will even become a collection worth sharing with a larger audience.

So this is sort of a journal in the form of essays disguised as letters to my daughter. The topics are so universal that I share them here in the hope that someone will identify with something I write and feel less alone. We all know this parenthood thing can be challenging and even scary at times. The power we hold in shaping an entire human being can be awesome and terror-inducing at the same time. What if we don’t do it right???

And Lady Jane? Who else besides royalty gets every need met without lifting a finger? I started calling my daughter Lady Jane when she was born. It seemed like a way to pretend that this little person that I care for 24/7 was indeed like royalty and yet mock the whole idea at the same time. It just popped into my head and never left. I would come into her room to lift her from her crib and cheerfully sing, “Good morning, Lady Jane!” while I raised the shades and started to change her diaper. Finally, when she got to be about two years old, she woke to the fact that I was calling her something other than her actual name and she asked me to stop. I honored her request but I still think of her sometimes as Lady Jane, and that makes me smile and gets me through some tough moments.

* * * * *

Dear Lady Jane,

I can hear the tinkly chimes of my iphone alarm on my night stand as if coming from a faraway fog. Just reaching to make the sound stop is hurting my head. Tylenol. I need Tylenol. And Sudafed.

Looking over beside me, I notice that Daddy is not in the bed. He must have slept on the living room couch out of fear of getting this head cold. We can’t have that, can we? A very important week of meetings and travel lays ahead for him. Sigh. I try my best to stumble to the bathroom to get the medicine, then cocoon back into my warm sheets.

Perhaps I’m drifting off to sleep again when I hear a whimper next to me that quickly escalates into a whine, grating on my nerves like nothing else can. “You’re losing my time! Get uuuup!” You consider of the time between 6:00 and 7:30 on a school day to be precious. If you’re sleeping, that’s time lost. “Get uuuuuuuppppppppp!”

I can barely make my voice work to beg you to please stop. We decide to start over, something we sometimes do when all sense of reason has left your head and you are acting like a crazy person. It’s sort of a way to erase what just happened and take it from the top. So I offer to come into your room like I usually do and pretend to wake you up.

I suppose it’s to be expected that this doesn’t really change your mood. You mirror me in everything, so if I’m feeling moody and I can barely function, it really doesn’t bode well for your behavior. Most mornings, we laugh and talk and enjoy being together, me having coffee and you slurping chocolate milk through a straw as we watch a kids tv show, but I just can’t today.

Ah, motherhood. Seven years in, I am used to putting my own needs to the side in order to care for someone else. That doesn’t make it any easier though, especially on mornings like this.

Before becoming your mom, I didn’t ever think about what kind of mother I would be. Your Grammy was amazing with me and I assumed I would be equally stellar. It was only after your first birthday that I started to understand that having a child isn’t really what makes someone a mother. There’s you. There’s me. There’s us. And then there’s me in relation to you. Me as mother. Me as your mother.

It felt like you were born to trigger certain reactions from within me, giving me a chance to work through many important issues. Ahem. For example, I need some time to myself every day and you somehow ensured that I didn’t get that. You’d cling fiercely to me all day, rarely letting me put you down. You only napped for 30 minutes. There must be an entire curriculum that you are here to help me learn. Patience, humor, setting limits, gratitude.

It’s taken me far too long to realize that being your mother, not someone else’s mother, is exactly what I am meant to be.

I’m sorry to say that this has little to do with you. In getting to know you, I was discovering myself. Your intense separation anxiety reminded me that I was exactly the same as a child. This gave me many opportunities to look back and try to understand and accept the little girl that I was. All of our similarities – and there are many – highlight and mirror aspects within myself that I’d never before thought much about. Our differences brought up all kinds of emotion within me as well.

The first 4 years of your life were definitely the hardest for me. I suppose it took me that long to accept that I wasn’t going to get my old life back. How slow am I??? I was struggling for sure. There were times, I am hesitant to admit, when I just didn’t feel like being a parent anymore. It’s such a gargantuan responsibility, caring for the physical, mental, and emotional needs of another person, one who is completely helpless at first. I’d had to give up so much: a job that I enjoyed, time for myself and with friends, personal space. I’d had to learn new skills: protecting my own needs, breastfeeding while doing other tasks, making do with 5 hours of sleep.

I used to be so overwhelmed that if anyone shared news that they were expecting a baby, I would look at them in shock and ask, “Why would you DO that to yourself???”

Parenthood isn’t something you can undo, nor would I wish to. I love you and I’m completely glad you’re here. By now, I’ve found my stride, so to speak, and can handle most of what you toss my way and even find the humor in it.

What does become unglued is whatever identity you had pre-little person. You had lots of friends, a great job, traveled when you could? Baby doesn’t care. You say you can speak 7 languages? You once performed at Carnegie Hall? Won a Presidential Medal of Honor? Baby doesn’t care. Baby doesn’t care. Baby doesn’t care. You needed me, exactly imperfect as I was (and still am).

All that energy I poured in hasn’t been lost. It mutates somehow and returns as smiles and giggles, learning and singing, growing and dancing.

The past few years have been different in a good way. I have learned to listen to you. I see that you are developing independence and responsibility and learning about friendship. I’m learning to surrender control, actively listen, set firm limits, and let you figure out your natural talents and interests. Situations and other people have a way of teaching you in ways my words never could.

I realize now how much my identity has shifted and grown. My sense of purpose has expanded to encompass caring for you. My marriage to Daddy has deepened from shared creation, responsibility, and wonder at all that you are. Sharing myself with you has been a gift, one I unwrap several times a day, even on days like today when I don’t feel well and I wish there were someone here to take care of me.

I’m going back to bed.

xoxo, Mommy

Posted in Dear Lady Jane, Motherhood | Tagged Dear Lady Jane, identity, Motherhood | 6 Comments

On variety of emotion

Posted on February 15, 2016 by Naomi

“We all know of the tears that turn to laughter. Or the laughing that breaks open to a cry. Or the anger that crumbles into a tender loneliness. Or the cool face of indifference that cracks, eventually showing its adhesive of fear. Amazingly, as the infinite forms of flowers all rise from the same earth, the earthly garden of emotions – in all their delicate shapes and colors — all rise from the same earth of heart.” ~ Mark Nepo

It is stunning sometimes how quickly we can shift. I am finding that the few days between ovulation and starting a new cycle to be full of forgetfulness, irritability, and intense sadness for me, so much so that I’m learning to avoid scheduling any interactions during that time. I’d never paid much attention to my monthly cycle before, but it seems to be getting worse as each month passes… I am almost like a totally different person for a day or two there!

It frightens me because I have had many episodes of severe depression in the past, and one or two of these days feel a little like what that felt like, minus the “it’s going to be like this forever” aspect. I’m an intense person and the highs are that much higher while the lows sometimes seem unbearable. Logically, I realize it’s all chemistry. (I am consulting doctors as well as taking anti-depressants and vitamins… do not worry.) Emotionally, there is absolutely nothing I can do besides ride the wave and wait for it to pass.

* * * * *

Did you have a good Valentine’s Day? Our Sweet Girl was very into it, as usual. We made a huge poster of what we value about each other… all her idea. She and I made and decorated sugar cookies, which I try to do once a year with her even though it takes hours and makes a huge mess. It was a good Love Day.

Posted in Motherhood, Quotations | Tagged emotion, hormones, Mark Nepo, monthly cycle, Valentine's Day | 5 Comments

Celebrating the marriage partnership

Posted on February 11, 2016 by Naomi

Mr. B and I were deliberating over a big purchase decision. It doesn’t matter what it was… what it did for our partnership is what I’d like to tell you about.

In our deliberations, at any given moment, one of us would be all for it and the other would be doubtful and cautious. Sometimes just an hour later, we would switch. The skeptic would be convinced and ready to truly enjoy and live large; the “let’s do it” person would now be worried about long-term effects and making a rash choice.

This went on for a couple weeks, at least.

We did our research. We talked several times with our financial advisor. We had many late night conversations.

Finally, we both landed on the side of being wisely cautious. Just because you CAN do something does not mean you SHOULD, right? We both feel relieved that the emotional roller coaster ride is over. We made the right decision for now.

What I most appreciate is that we were the perfect yin/yang partnership throughout these discussions. We listened to each other. We supported each other. We trusted each other. We were always on the same page. We each wanted the other to have what he/she most wanted.

Because of this, we are much closer than before. We look at each other with admiration and appreciation. I think that’s pretty great!

How we have discussions can be far more important than what we say. Do you find that to be true?

Posted in Kindness, Mindfulness | Tagged communication, decisions, marriage | 4 Comments

David Whyte on forgiveness

Posted on February 8, 2016 by Naomi

Forgiveness is a skill, a way of preserving clarity, sanity and generosity in an individual life, a beautiful way of shaping the mind to a future we want for ourselves; an admittance that if forgiveness comes through understanding, and if understanding is just a matter of time and application then we might as well begin forgiving right at the beginning of any drama rather than put ourselves through the full cycle of festering, incapacitation, reluctant healing and eventual blessing.

To forgive is to put oneself in a larger gravitational field of experience than the one that first seemed to hurt us. We reimagine ourselves in the light of our maturity and we reimagine the past in the light of our new identity, we allow ourselves to be gifted by a story larger than the story that first hurt us and left us bereft.

~ David Whyte

Posted in Kindness, Poetry, Quotations | Tagged drama, generosity, healing, time | Leave a comment

Wilderness medicine

Posted on February 4, 2016 by Naomi

Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out going to the mountains is going home; that wilderness is a necessity.

– John Muir –

Posted in Photography, Quotations | Tagged John Muir, mountains, wilderness | 2 Comments

January reading report

Posted on February 1, 2016 by Naomi

January – check!

I’ve been trying to simplify a little and have been de-owning things. Now I must work on the “doing too much.”

I counted just for the fun of it… I read 93 books last year. I don’t have a reading goal for this year but I did enjoy these…

The Japanese Lover: A Novel by Isabel Allende

Physical suffering had freed her from the inevitable bonds of personality and had polished her spirit like a diamond. The strokes she had suffered had not damaged her intellect but, as she said, had altered the wiring, and stimulated her intuition so that she could see the invisible.

How’s that for descriptive writing??? This is an epic jewel of a story told from many points of view about racial tensions in the 50s, forbidden love and following your heart, growing older and coming into your own, overcoming abuse, friendship, and love. I loved the way Allende drew the characters so that we learn more and more depth as we read from each’s perspective.

They’re more alive now than ever. That’s what happens with age: stories from the past come alive and stick to our skin.

The Readers of Broken Wheel Recommend by Katarina Bivald

“There’s always a person for every book. And a book for every person.”

With a bit of similarity to 84, Charring Cross Road, Sara in Sweden corresponds with Amy from Broken Wheel, Iowa and decides to do something proactive with her life for once and go meet her friend. This little book is full of references to popular novels, time-tested literature, as well as the overall love of reading.

“Others might have found themselves stuck in a tired, old high school in Haninge, but she had been a geisha in Japan, walked alongside China’s last empress through the claustrophobic, closed-off rooms of the Forbidden City, grown up with Anne and the others in Green Gables, gone through her fair share of murder, and loved and lost over and over again.”

This is a charming (if slightly predictable) story and a quick read. Recommend.

When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi

Neurosergeon. Cancer. What makes life meaningful?

Seem like you’ve read this one before? Believe me, you haven’t. Kalanithi is a brilliant writer, empathetic in his quest for an understanding of the personal experience of living and the mystery of death that we all face. A gifted neurosurgeon and neuroscientist, he felt it was most important to leave the world with this unforgettable memoir.

I practically swallowed whole the first part of this book about his journey through studying literature at Stanford and the history of medicine at Cambridge, followed by med school at Yale and a neurosurgery residency at Stanford. I love that he kept coming back to literature for comfort and as a way to describe his experiences. He shows more than tells, describing very well stories of his first experiences in the anatomy lab, his OB internship, and other ER stories.

The tricky part of illness is that, as you go through it, your values are constantly changing. You try to figure out what matters to you, and then you keep figuring it out. It felt like someone had taken away my credit card and I was having to learn how to budget. You may decide you want to spend your time working as a neurosurgeon, but two months later, you may feel differently. Two months after that, you may want to learn to play the saxophone or devote yourself to the church. Death may be a one-time event, but living with terminal illness is a process.

And then he got sick. The poetic way he dealt with his ultimate inability to work, his body’s deterioration, and the birth of his daughter felt to me like he knew he had an important contribution to make to the world of letters. He did not look away from the difficult issues in order to make a record of what it felt like to undergo such a profound transition.

My life up until my illness could be understood as the linear sum of my choices.

Time shifted to play a different role in his life. Having worked hard to graduate from his grueling 6-year residency, he had been almost always future-focused. He ultimately lived more in the present moment than ever before.

This is a quick read but a tearjerker. Highly recommend.

Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less
Greg McKeown

“Essentialism is not about how to get more things done; it’s about how to get the right things done… It is about making the wisest possible investment of your time and energy in order to operate at our hightest point of contribution by doing only what is essential.”

This is for those of us stretched too thin… doing far too much at the expense of our sanity. McKeown separates himself from the other self-help authors in this genre by being incredibly concise and straightforward with his writing and his ideas for simplifying your life. There will always be people and tasks competing for our mental focus and time and it’s easy to fall into a reactive state. Rather, McKeown emphasizes focusing on what is most important first, proactively planning your days to put in what is most essential to YOU. Doing it all with as little effort as possible is key.

Since reading this, I am asking myself several times a day, “Is this the most important thing and do I need to do it right this minute?” I am trying to learn to put energy into one or two main things rather than exerting effort divided over a lot of little tasks. It is better and feels better to get a couple things done well than working on many things but making little progress. I find myself reprioritizing constantly, and, when I remember to be disciplined about this, it’s led to a more relaxed and joyous few weeks so far.

After You: A Novel
JoJo Moyes

“You’re going to feel uncomfortable in your new world for a bit. But I hope you feel a bit exhilarated too. Live boldly. Push yourself. Don’t settle. Just live well. Just live. Love, Will.”

Lost love and moving on… This is a sequel to Me Before You, a powerful love story which is about to be released as a movie. (I always prefer the book.) I’m not sure why this new book was written. I wasn’t curious about what happened to Louisa and this one isn’t as good as that first story, nor is it billed as a sequel. However, it has its merits. The personal growth and healing of Lou, the new characters, and the family’s interactions make this a story worth reading.

Stolen: The True Story of a Sex Trafficking Survivor by Katariina Rosenblatt, Cecil Murphey

Katariina Rosenblatt recounts her personal childhood story of sex trafficking. She explains that it happens everywhere, and no city or small town is immune. It happens to victim-prone children especially.

“Usually, we were the loners, the outcasts, the shy, the overweight, or the smaller kids. Because we were needy children, perpetrators sensed that vulnerability. Most of us didn’t meet some evil person lurking in the park, and we weren’t accosted by a stranger on a dark street. If those who lured us were strangers, they groomed us by winning our trust before they took advantage of our vulnerability. The point is that we knew our perpetrators and they taught us to trust them.”

Reading how children are lured into this was fascinating. Many of the specific details are glossed over or generalized in the book, with a focus on how to prevent this from happening, how to recognize it, and how to help. Through her organization “Stolen Ones–There Is H.O.P.E. For Me, Inc.,” a nonprofit organization dedicated to offering help, she refers them for services such as free tutoring, counseling, food, and clothing through like-minded individuals, faith-based organizations, or churches that have agreed to their antiviolence and traffic-free standards.

All children deserve to know they’re loved and that they’re special to their parents. It’s not only whether they are loved but also whether they believe they are loved. That knowledge makes the difference. (Remember, it’s how we assess the situation and not the reality.) If we don’t feel loved, we have a built-in human need to seek affection and attention.

My Name Is Lucy Barton: A Novel by Elizabeth Strout

I have to admit that this one took me a day or so to fully appreciate. On the surface, it’s a recounting of a mother-daughter hospital visit, but it is dense with meaning and heavy emotion. As the details of the past come forth, Lucy’s relationships and strong connections evoked understanding in this reader. Lucy’s thoughts and interactions with her mother make up most of the story, but it’s also “a story about a mother who loves her daughter. Imperfectly. Because we all love imperfectly.” I’m sure many could identify with her dysfunctional past and/or her first marriage. Her desperate need for love from her mother is heartbreaking. While this book is very short, it’s quite a powerhouse. Recommend.

And he looked at me then, and with real kindness on his face, and I see now that he recognized what I did not: that in spite of my plenitude, I was lonely. Lonely was the first flavor I had tasted in my life, and it was always there, hidden inside the crevices of my mouth, reminding me.

Small Blessings: A Novel by Martha Woodroof

This is a sweet book about “taking sustenance from the simple pleasures of everyday things.” A predictable but heartwarming novel, this book features quirky yet human characters on a college campus. As new people come to the community, including a small boy, they soon find fulfillment in each other. It’s about being vulnerable in the now, facing down your addictions, and being resilient and courageous. One character learns that doing what scares you most can bring the most happiness.