Snapshots of Motherhood

 

I am bathed in the light of her wisdom; her capacity to love and nurture.  I watch as her tired, pale face maintains its softness, even through many nights of sleeplessness and industrious fervor.  Her voice is soft and melodic; cooing whispers intended to sooth and comfort the restless, unrelenting curiosity of new life as he wriggles his way into being.

 

            It wasn’t so long ago that she burst into my life, fists clenched, scarlet face, demanding a place in the world.  This little sprite of curiosity and determination making her way through the peaks and troughs of her emergent persona as I watched with wonder as she blossomed into this amazing young woman.

 

            She was small for her age then --  yet so determined.  Dimpled cheeks and round, blue eyes would confront the world, scolding anything that would interfere with her insatiable need to drink in the nectar of new experience.  She grew, and my life became a metamorphosis of mirth and wonder analogous to her development.   I remember being mesmerized by her ability to tell stories, wide-eyed and full of enthusiasm, stumbling between baby talk and little girl vernacular, and how her sweet, soft voice would sing away skinned knees and broken hearts. 

 

            As she transitioned through childhood, so my life transitioned to the objectivity of release and letting go.  The world began calling her, beckoning her with the temptation of experience and erudition, and my influence began to fade like a lifting fog, giving way to the light of an unfamiliar source.  The metamorphosis was now hers, and my influence was diminishing, more rapidly than one could ever fathom.  She was growing up.

 

            Motherhood is a constant transformation; an evolution of realism contrasting our ideals.  We encourage strength, but crave dependency.   We foster growth, but grieve change.  We preach self-reliance, yet secretly want to coddle and protect.  The dichotomy of parenthood has no delineation at either end.  We love, we hurt, we hold on, but ultimately, we let go. 

 

            Motherhood was my Kodak moment; a snapshot within a continuum of a bigger story of life and lessons learned.   A Kodachrome enigma intended to illustrate a potentially lackluster passage through this expedition of maternal experience, providing humility and revelation along this vibrantly colorful route.  We progress from “Mommy” to “Mom” to “Mother”, through rites of passage which are both revealing and a mystery.   And, while not a requirement in life, when taking on the role, one eventually realizes that it can be the most single, life altering enterprise known to human kind.  They grow up and we grow old.  A sweet sadness with no real definition.  Something that just happens.  And then they are gone…. and you are alone.  And that is that.  Or is it?

            “Mom, we’re expecting”, this confident adult woman informs me through my cell phone.  “I didn’t want to say anything too soon, but we are so excited…. Mom?”

             Motherhood is not a linear.  It is an ever changing, entanglement of intertwining experiences which lead us back, full circle to that one place from where it was born…. the heart.  Motherhood is love in action.  It is the gift of learning about what we are really made of; who we are. 

             Watching my daughter’s life is witnessing art in the truest sense.  A painting… a portrait.  The pure, white canvas has been turned into an array of texture and color, interwoven to create a story left only to be interpreted by the imagination.  The beauty of her art is unexplainable; especially when one has witnessed its creation from the first stroke.  And now that she is a mother, miraculously, her colors are transforming.  They are becoming softer and more comfortable.  The strokes are less intense, and exhibit a perfection which only comes with the concept of balance and harmony.  A masterpiece, indeed.

             And my portrait?  There is still plenty of work to be done.  The finishing touches have to wait a little longer.  There is new life now; a new beginning; time to resume progress from a new perspective. 

             I sit quietly, sip my coffee, and contemplate the wonder of it all as I lay my head back against my daughter’s easy chair.  The house is quiet, except for the mesmerizing ticking of a tinny, out of synch clock and the occasional snort as her dog thumps and twitches his way through a mysterious dream of some unknown dog adventure.  The day is overcast and the air is cool outside, but it is warm in the house and in my heart. 

            I can hear the rhythmic creak of her chair in the nursery, rocking….  rocking….  rocking… back and forth as his little gurgles and grunts slowly subside into a deep sigh.  There is that squeaky, sucking sound as he fervently sucks on his pacifier, and the baby Mozart is quietly playing in the background.  He is asleep.       

 

Theresa Checkosky Maher, (2011) Motherly Musings: Thirty Women and Men Reflect on the Roller Coaster Ride That is Motherhood. S. Wells, Ed. Unlimited Publishing, LLC.

 

             

           

     My life has flavor.  Some question my choices...my willingness to so easily change course as the wind blows in new directions.  And, I must admit that there were times in my life when I listened and questioned myself as well.  I look around and see people who set out on their paths many years ago.  They grew within their chosen direction, became masters, and stayed there until it faded into a soft, easy retreat into a wonderful retirement.  I envy those people.  Covet their deep set roots, and wonder how life would have been had I also dug my heels in and stuck to the script.  But I didn't.  I couldn't.  Granted, there were often times where I had few other options, but also, there were just too many hats I wanted (and sometimes needed) to try on;  roles I had to experience.

     Transition has always come easy for me.  When one grows up with transient parents, being in new situations is not an unusual concept.  I'll admit, it was sometimes painful and lonely, but it also taught me that its okay to take risks because even the most uncomfortable setting or toxic individuals will eventually become but a memory. I've learned that, if it doesn't serve me, I don't have to let it poison my spirit.  I can let it go.  

     Some of the roles were fun and interesting -- others mundane.  But, they were the building blocks to where I'm at today.  I've been the daughter, of course.  A friend, mother, wife, divorcee, mistress.  I've performed on stages and in castles; wore the clown face; sang the songs;  ran the races; put the quarters on the rail road track, danced barefoot on the grass and published the literature. I've also suffered the grief, felt the uncertainty; loneliness; anxiety...the depression.  But I always came back.  I've been the secretary, waitress, actress, marketer, boss, teacher, counselor, nurse...oh, and don't forget the best one..."Grandma".  

     I've partied with the famous and comforted the dying as they expelled their last breaths.  Once I slept in a tee pee after a night of drumming and making dream pillows; I've danced around the fire and rafted over the white water.  People ask me where I am from.  I never quite know how to answer that, for I started in the south, but have progressed throughout the west, east and north; grew up in the city, ghetto, country, lake house, tiny apartments and mini mansion. Explored most religions and cultures, and have had the gift of free-spirited, diverse and creative friends and family from varying ethnicities and gender identities, the athletic and special needs....heros.  And then, of course, there are the four legged souls who have rescued me many times in so many ways...

     I think I've made my point.  The funny thing is that I still feel as though I'm not there yet.  There is more to come.  Things I need to experience, contribute...try just once....   

     So, as I presently (at 50 something) pursue my fifth college degree; transition into yet another phase of my career; write another novel; make my husband, two dogs and three cats painfully listen as I practice my violin; stumble through Rosetta Stone trying to learn Spanish, and, spend many unpaid hours doing volunteer work while wondering from where the funding will appear so I can travel Europe...the epiphany has finally arrived:  while some people choose to stick with the safety and comfort of vanilla, I hope they will understand my ever changing tutti frutti rocky road butterscotch with marshmallow topping choice of varied experiences.  Will they?  Maybe some.  Others not so much.  But that's okay. As long as my choices don't hurt the significant people in my life, the thoughts of others really are insignificant, as they have absolutely no impact on who I am or where I'm going.  Instability?  I don't think so.  Just an immense appetite for making my life everything I want it to be before its over.  They'll do it their way, and I'll do it mine.  Either way, we are all going to end up looking back over our lives someday.  I sit by many death beds through hospice work and I can tell you that, if anyone were to ask me what I want my last three words to be when its my turn, I would say without hesitation....  "It--- was--- good!"    

     

     

Living once again

I feel like I am waking up from a long sleep as I, once again, begin to discover the flavor of experience. There is a feeling of calm within my spirit; a restful realization that comes when one ends a whirlwind of tumultuous focus and activity that removes us from our own realities. The grass looks a little greener, the scent of summer permeates my senses…. I am once again part of the living.

For the past three years, life had become the blinking call waiting light on the telephone, constantly flashing in the background, reminding me that it was still there but something I just couldn’t quite get to; the present call was too consuming to let go. Yet, it was the present call that allowed me the opportunity of metamorphosis; to grow into a dream – the next level of my human experience. To be what I always wanted to become…. a nurse.

It wasn’t necessarily a mid-life crisis, for being in a healing profession has always been a covert desire in my personal pursuit of purpose; but, I guess one could say it was more of a mid-life awakening. A realization that, dreams only last as long as life. Once it’s gone, so is the opportunity of fulfillment. Turning 50 meant that I had lived more than half of my life (my ancestral genetic makeup consists of an average lifespan of about 75 years) and it was time to stop dreaming and start pursuing.

Through my adult life, I’ve almost constantly been entrenched in one form of education or another. I picked and weeded my way through one course at a time while doing the single mother gig, obtaining a four year and then graduate degree. The long hours of clinical and studying for nursing school was out of the question when raising two teenagers and working 1.5 jobs. However, as time allowed, if I wasn’t working at night and on the weekend towards a degree, I was taking workshops, reading, doing research…. Constantly in the pursuit of new understanding. So, it’s not like I wasn’t used to pedagogy or being committed to working hard. What did take me by surprise, however, was how consumed my life would be as I worked my way through the intense science pre-requisites for which letter grades of “A” were almost mandatory based on the competitive waiting list of others pursuing the same dream.

When I did get into the nursing program, I found myself caught in a kaleidoscope of peaks and troughs, sacrifices, amazing discovery and sometimes shear exhaustion. The world around me virtually seemed to stop sometimes as I excused myself from the world of the living. Life didn’t stop, of course, but I took a sabbatical, and those closest to me experienced the fall out.

As the semesters passed and the intensity grew (along with my hips) I often questioned myself on whether the means really justified the end. As the train picked up momentum, I would see some of my fellow travelers jumping or falling off at various stops, or hanging on by their fingernails as the force of acceleration tried to shake us off. Many times, I felt myself slipping and tried to hang on with everything I had. Through the hours of visiting and revisiting concepts and processes, my travelers and I would share tears, laughter and glasses of wine wondering if we would ever reach our destination or if the depot would be closed when we arrived. In the meantime, outside of our exclusive subculture of craziness, people in our lives were moving on. Kids were growing, people married, babies babies were born, and loved ones and pets died. Physically, we struggled to be present, but mentally, we most of us had one foot planted in an alternate reality – always thinking, planning, strategizing—focused on the next exam or clinical observation. It was like that phrase from an 70’s rock song… “The lights were on but no one was really home.”

We often hear sociologists and psychologists talk about the concept of “Institutionalization” and dysfunctional adaptation when people who have been incarcerated, hospitalized or held captive for long periods of time suddenly find themselves back in the “real world.” They have become so used to the structure and conditions in which they were living, they have to reinvent themselves as they adjust to their old lives once again. I can understand that now. Certainly this doesn’t compare to the negative connotation that may present, but, in a positive way, it does. There is a world out there of spending time with family and friends, reading the Sunday paper or a Stephen King novel without the guilt of neglect, and rediscovering the smell of lavender in my yard. Music is no longer a distraction but is, once again, a cathartic. My body can move away from the laptop and my fingers can create and express feelings as I play my guitar or dig in my garden. I can hug my husband without being distracted by the stack of books in the corner; visit my children and grandchildren without transporting my library so I can study on the train; I can sleep again at night.

Yes, life has returned. But there is something new and different this time, for, in the process of rediscovering all of these wonders and reinventing my life, there is a new undercurrent of excitement and satisfaction flowing underneath. There is a foundation of knowing that wasn’t there before, not only of new things but that dreams can become more than a fleeting thought; they can become reality.

Educated, licensed and ready to go, I start my new career in a few weeks. I’ll go into the world a little smarter, hopefully a little wiser, and able to channel my deep passions into making someone else’s life just a little better. True, I don’t have the number of years ahead of me to make my mark as I might have if this had happened when I was younger… but I also would probably not have understood the magnitude of this gift I have experienced if I had done this when I was less mature. The years may not be quantitative, but the quality cannot be surpassed. I’m back world, and ready to take off. And, I’m a nurse!

Mindless Mindfulness?

I haven’t blogged in such a long time. Guess this mindfulness thing is a lot more challenging than I would have thought; then again, maybe its not. Maybe sometimes we use it just to get through a moment which would otherwise leave us feeling hopeless and helpless and we don’t even realize it. It just happens and it gets us through. Mindless mindfulness?

These past few months have presented a multitude of opportunities for me to try on my colors. A roller coaster of emotions and life events requiring me to be in the moment; even the moments I cared not to be in. I’ve watched someone I love more than life itself despair over the loss of a dream and then celebrated the news of new beginnings for another during the same day. I’ve sat by someone dear to me when the doctor told her she had stage III breast cancer, and obliged her request on Christmas, shaving her head even though I quietly cried as I stood behind her fragile, delicate body. Then, only weeks later, I felt the joy of hearing the tumor was responding to chemo and that she would, ultimately, find some reprise from the devastation she had experienced. Additionally,
I recall how I felt betrayal from being physically injured by an animal I loved and trusted, and grief as I held a kindred spirit feline while he breathed his last breath in my arms.

My intention is not to focus on negative moments. For through it all there was a constancy of knowing things were really okay. There was having the security and love of a supportive, patient husband making me laugh and showing me the world through his funny, playful eyes; hearing my little baby grandchild’s vocabulary grow with each phone call until he finally said his own rendition of the word grandma “bahka”; trips to New York and Boston and meeting so many wonderful people along the way. There’s the security of being offered a job months before I’ve even graduated. There are the new friends that I’ve made in such a short time and the satisfaction of knowing that the long hours of study and clinical hours are taking us all to places in our lives where our work will leave a mark somehow, somewhere for someone… even if we never know it did.

Life. Its made of so many surprises. Then comes the question: What do we do with them? My first inclination is to say that I totally let my quest for middle aged mindfulness go out the window with each event. And, if I am talking about the cognitive, deliberate action of recognizing it for what it is… I probably did. But then there is that other voice, that still little piece of my inner self, my “God” that simmers deeper inside that reminds me of the clarity I felt during some of those moments, and realize that I was more in the moment during the extremes highs and lows than at any other times in my life. It’s the times in between that need the work!

I often hear people say things like, “How could God let that happen?”, or, “If there is such a thing as God, we wouldn’t suffer.” Well, my answer is, first, depending on what your expectations really are and what you perceive “God” to be, perhaps these things happen specifically because it is through those moments that we define ourselves and really feel the presence of life itself. Maybe, until we really figure out how to capture that focus and fuse it into everyday, mundane moments, we will continue to witness that which we think we don’t want – only to find out that on some level… we do!

Who knows what the next months have to offer for me or anyone else? Maybe there will be even more painful moments; maybe Nirvana. Whatever. The important thing is that we do our best to get through them and then, when we look back, we see the lesson in it all. At least then it is not all in vein.

In her shoes -- Mackenzie and compassion

Did you ever look back over your adolescent and early adulthood years and cringe at some of the things you did, wondering how you were lucky enough to escape harm, addiction, or worse? The brain at that age, not being fully developed, goes through some challenging changes. If we were lucky enough to grow up with a stable family, good role models and good in health, then we hopefully weathered our vulnerability and Erikson’s theoretical “struggle” between finding our identity and dealing with confusion over our role in whatever society in which we happen to be living.

I grew up with in one of those “not-so-functional” family units. I watched my father deal with alcohol and drug addiction, gambling debts, depression… But he was my father. I needed his love and approval. Being raised as an only child, my parents were all I had. Without them, I would have disappeared… faded into nothingness…. at least that was my perception.

We often learn at an early age that the one way to fight loneliness and abandonment is to work as hard as we can to please the significant people in our lives. If we are good girls and boys, we want to believe that they will always be there; that they won’t leave us. We also trust them. After all, we have to learn how to navigate in this world, and where else does it start? If they tell us this is how life is supposed to be, until we mature enough to begin separating ourselves from their influence, we believe them. We have to. How else can an immature mind function?

I am so fortunate that I never had to experience sexual abuse from someone who had influence over me. I know with all my heart that, if something like that had happened, I would never have known what to do with it. If it were an authority figure, I’m sure I would have obeyed and accepted their direction because they were the adult and I was supposed to love them... please them... seek their approval. I also know that I would have felt incredible shame, but I might not have been able to understand where that shame came from. I probably would have somehow blamed myself.

I’ve been studying psychiatric nursing, and have learned very quickly, that these types of bruises run deep. In fact, they are often so deep we can’t always even consciously identify them. They just manifest themselves through the way we behave in the context of the world we have been given; through our choices. Once we do “come to grips” with our pain, the only way healing can truly begin is to express that pain. Talk about it. Get it out. Its called catharsis.

The media has been buzzing this week about the decision a former child actor made to openly discuss her very personal, tragic exposure at a young age to drug addiction and sexual abuse. Discussions abound, speculating as to whether she “consented”, whether she created it from her own drug affected memory or if she is just plain lying or seeking attention. Credible people have come forward supporting and validating her story; others have denied that it could have ever been possible.

It is very easy in our society to judge other people based on a comparison to our own personal experiences and belief systems. Many people, for instance, contend that drug addiction is a choice. “They shouldn’t have done it to begin with.” Well, to them I say, look back over your own childhood. Did you never make a choice when you were young that, now you realize could have destroyed your life? Whether it was your own experimentation with drugs in order to “fit in” or deaden emotional pain; your decision to ride with another teenager who was high and driving a car; your own decision to dive off of a bridge because the others were doing it or daring you…. Did you ever do anything risky? Now, ask yourself, whatever it was you did, what would your life have been like if you had that addictive gene or your own parents were encouraging you to follow their own path of addiction? Or, what if your drunk friend lost control of the car and you smashed into an embankment causing severe brain trauma? What if your dive left you with a spinal cord injury and paralysis? It could have happened. It could have been you. And, it all started with a “choice” made by an infallible teenager.

Yes, Mackenzie who grew up in a drug-influenced culture developed addictions at an early, vulnerable age. Yes, others have been raised in the same situation and didn’t. But, the human spirit is as complex as our biology. We are all different in how we think, view ourselves…cope. We can’t go through life weighing everyone else’s path against ours and assume they should have reacted in exactly the same way. That is narrow and not real.

My heart goes out to this strong, brave woman who, through her own healing, has opened this discussion among so many people. Many say she is helping create an opening for them to confront their past and talk about it. That’s wonderful. Something good can come out of any situation if we recognize the potential. But, even beyond that, I wonder if she isn’t also teaching us a lot about ourselves…. our need to start practicing empathy and compassion and not being so quick to judge others when we really don’t know what it is like to walk in her shoes? And, to realize that maybe there is a little of Mackenzie in all of us?

You might wonder what this has to do with my theme of mindfulness. Well, the more I’m learning to stop listening to all the “chatter” and start listening more to myself, it is becoming evident to me that there are many other ways to think about every situation we encounter in life. Instead of humans determining what they think is right or wrong for everyone else, we should spend more time trying to develop our own sense of right or wrong based on that power that lives within each of us. You know, the one that comes from a place of love and connection? God? After all, underneath our socially constructed personas, aren’t we are all just fragile spirits trying to make our way, using whatever tools we have, in the best way we know how?

Thank you, Mackenzie.

Dawn

There are countless surveys, games and quizzes on Facebook now. I always get a laugh out of some of the "What kind of ______ are you?" Sadly I no longer participate after paying someone $107 to remove several nasty viruses that he attributes directly to Facebook games. Regardless, I still have fun reading them.

Its early on a Sunday morning and I realize that, if someone were to ask me what time of day I would like to be on Facebook, I would say that, without a doubt, I aspire to be dawn. It encompasses so many of the qualities which I am working to develop within myself. Yes, it would definitely be dawn.

There is a stillness early in the morning that many never see. This one in particular is on the cusp between summer and autumn and there is a crisp coolness to the air. The flora is still bathed in moisture from the dense air of the night before resting gently on every available surface, preparing to rise again in the morning as the sun says its time to do so. Occasionally there is a fleeting sound of a bird calling, a twig breaking or an automobile off in the distance swooshing its way to some unknown destination. Each sound is isolated, though, and echos as it moves quickly in and out of my range of hearing.

This stillness evokes an emotion that is difficult to describe without engaging in what may sound like cliche rhetoric. It is peace; quiet; a time for restful contemplation; an inner joy that we so often suppress as our thoughts spin into a thousand different directions. Eventually, we forget what that inner joy feels like due to our preoccupations.

I want to take this prized moment and keep it close to me. I want that stillness to exist within my soul, and as invading thoughts fleet into my psyche I want to acknowledge them but then let them fade into the faroff distance so they do not invade my stillness. This is the experience of living in the moment and every once in a while, especially on a cool, crisp late summer/early autumn morning, I get a glimpse of what I want to be. Yes, if I were taking a Facebook quiz right now, I would be dawn. I would definitely be dawn.

They say that when we focus on learning or personal growth, the lessons we are working on will be tested via continual manifestation through life situations until we have it mastered. If we are working on patience, we'll attract situations which need patience; abstinence, we will encounter our addiction, etc. Yin Yang. We don't know what we want until we work through what we don't want. All of that...



Well, I believe this is the same with trying to learn focus and mindfulness. It seems as though more things have come across my path lately than ever which entice me to allow my head to spin and my thoughts to race. Once I determined my goal and laid out my plan, a whirlwind of events began to surface. Not to imply that all events are negative or even challenging. Some of those type of events have occurred, but also positive and exciting things, either for me or people in my life. Regardless, it sets my heart a pumpin' and a cyclone of thoughts begin to invade my mind, triggering more adrenaline than a Stephen King novel. (Okay, maybe the saying is a little corny, but you get the picture)



The past few days have been more challenging than ever in terms of being in the "now", but the more I have to work at clearing out those cobwebs during turmoil and chaos, the easier centering my thoughts is becoming when things slow down to a "normal" pace. Kind of like exercise. I remember years ago when I was doing long distance running, if I wanted to train for a 10k (6.2 miles) I'd make sure I could run 8. Thus, when the day of the race came the 10k seemed so much easier. Or, I'd sprint for a few days and then find it easier to kick my pace up a notch.



Practice makes perfect. When craziness pops its head into our lives, maybe we should embrace it and be thankful for that opportunity to practice our skills. Then, when something that really is out of the ordinary occurs, we'll already be primed and able to exist through it. Food for thought.