Waves

Growing up on a farm, it is pretty obvious I had zero interaction with the beach or the ocean. Cows and ditches and manure were more in my wheelhouse. My only experience with the ocean was what I saw on TV or in pictures. It looked beautiful, and romantic and perfect. I was going to see it someday, smell the salty air, (whatever that smelled like) swim, and maybe surf. Oh, and I was totally going to look good doing it. How hard could it be?

It took a while to get there, but on our honeymoon, Dan took me to Huntington Beach. He was so excited for me to finally experience what he loved so much. And I was super stoked to finally experience it. He got out of the car and he threw his hands in the air and said, 'Don't you love it!!??" I got out of the car and my first thought was, "Woah.....eeew. What is that smell?" Basically.......it wasn't all exactly what I thought it would be.

Don't get me wrong....the ocean WAS unbelievable. It was magical and beautifully amazing. Better than I could have ever anticipated. I sat and just watched the water crashing on the beach for a really long time. But it scared me. There was power in those waves that caught me by surprise. I didn't want to swim or get near the water anymore because I wasn't sure I would be able to control myself compared to the waves. I didn't want to be some headline on page 18 "Honeymooner dies on Huntington Beach." I had a life to live! And suddenly the idea of sharks seemed a little less laughable. I was also surprised at how small and insignificant I felt compared to it. 

And I definitely DIDN"T want to surf, because it was full of so many unknowns. I saw people playing in the water and they looked so comfortable. They made it look so easy. But suddenly being at the edge of something so amazing made me feel unsure and worried.

But eventually Dan convinced me to get in.

It was colder than I expected but surprisingly exhilarating. Eventually I allowed myself to go farther and farther. The waves came in and out and I found it enjoyable even! Maybe it wasn't scary! Sharks? What sharks? Maybe I can do this beach thing! Go me!! Get me a surfboard! This is fun! This is just what I wanted it to be!! ..............

Suddenly, a giant wave came crashing down on my head. I didn't know which way was up. I was thrown around and sideways. My swimsuit went places it wasn't meant to go, seaweed was hitting my body. I had water up my nose, and I couldn't breath. I came up completely disoriented and gasping for air. 

I immediately wanted to get out. That was NOT fun. That was NOT magical. THAT was scary. THAT was unexpected. And I hated the feeling of not being in control. 

But....Dan made me stay in. He wouldn't let me get out. "You got to stay IN if you are going to figure it out! You won't be stuck under a wave forever!" He reassured me I wouldn't die by shark (which I guess turned out to be valid. I'm still here) and I would not end up being a headline in the paper. (And maybe he was trying to reassure himself he hadn't married an insane person.....) 

I recently was thinking about some motherhood issues I have been having lately while I was blow drying my hair, (because all good thoughts come with your head upside down next to a heat source....obviously.) A particular morning had left me feeling frustrated and mad and I was trying to sort out why certain behavior was happening and why I was handling it all so poorly. I felt washed over with this problem and couldn't see a solution. Then I suddenly had a flash of being in that wave that first time. And I figuratively felt just like that. I felt thrown around and sideways, I couldn't breath, I felt disoriented and I didn't know which way was up. I felt not in control. 

I have thought about that a lot and how it has so many parallels with my motherhood and even other life experiences.

All my life I saw people being mother's. It looked magical. It looked picturesque. I had a vision of what it was going to be like and how it would happen. I couldn't wait until it was me. I assumed I would be great at it. How hard could it be? But imagining myself as a mother and me BEING a mother are 2 VERY different things.

The power that comes with Motherhood is beautiful and empowering and was surprising. But it is also frightening and overwhelming. It is amazing and can be picturesque. But sometimes it stinks. Especially in the middle of the night. Or in the middle of postpartum darkness. Motherhood has made me feel small and incapable of the task. But has also made me feel empowered and strong and capable. It also makes me realize that I AM NOT REALLY IN CONTROL when you involve other peoples agency. I have wondered if anyone has died from motherhood? Could that be a potential headline? Getting eaten by your children somedays does seem more likely and scarier than a shark attack. (Some days at 5:30, I miiiiight pick shark infested waters over the dinnertime meltdowns......)

Ok, maybe some over dramatization here, but after I got or get the hang of something and as I stepped in, it IS exhilarating. It IS better than I thought. I would finally get the hang of "a thing" Maybe its breastfeeding, a nap schedule, biting, temper tantrums, friend issues, or whatever. And it isn't so bad. Its FUN and rewarding and amazing!!!! Sometimes the small monotony of waves of motherhood are a welcome peaceful and noisy rhythm to my life. It is monotonous, but I find a groove. But then I'm not looking for storms or sharks or big waves because things are just going along ANNNNNND....

WHAM. A wave. Knocks me down. Takes my breath away. My feet get knocked out from underneath of me and I don't know what way is up. Even after further experiences (I am a California girl after all now....ish....;) ) when I am prepared for a wave, and watching for them, I can still get taken down by them. Lately as I have been thinking of those "waves" that have knocked me over. I feel as though I am floundering and drowning and looking like I don't know what I am doing. But I know I have to stay IN if I am going to figure it out. Because the wave won't last forever. 

I am flying by the seat of my pants with some of this mom stuff. It is hard. I don't like cleaning my house. Sometimes it does not come naturally to snuggle my kids. Sometimes I don't want to touch my children and on a lot of days by 5:00 I definitely don't want them to touch me. I like to be by myself and eat alone. I like to sleep. ALOT. Kids aren't conducive to that kind of thing. I hate packing or even feeding my kids lunch. (WHY DO WE NEED LUNCH???) 

But you know what I DO love? Them. So dang much. And so I do it. All of it. The parts I love and the parts I don't. I do it all for them. Because of them. Because they are worth the struggle. They are worth every tear and worry.

And I know I can do it too. Even on hard days when its hard to see that I can. Because of ALL the women who are figuratively in that ocean with me. Mothers and non mothers. Taking the waves like champs. I feel braver and stronger because I am surrounded by strong women in the waves. Women who have come before, women I know now and the young little girl I am raising. I want her to take her waves with bravery and courage and confidence.

I am grateful for a mother who braved those waves for me. Who regained her footing every time she was knocked down and every time she felt incapable or not strong enough to the task.  I am grateful for women in my life who are hit with wave after wave and come up NOT in tears and fear, but with smiles and shouts of exhilaration. With looks of joy and sincerely enjoying the ride. 

I am grateful for the waves. For the fear and the joy. For the complexities of motherhood and the trust and growth I get because of it. I am grateful for a mom. Dan's mom. My sisters--biological and not. My friends who feel like sisters. Neighbors. Teachers. Coworkers. A Savior. A Heavenly Father who are ALL in the waves with me. 

Happy Mothers Day. To all who are fighting the waves and braving the water--whether they be waves of motherhood, infertility, loss, grief, pain, loneliness, sadness, worry, stress, or hopelessness. 

We have all got this, because we got each other and the waves won't last forever. 

Birthday Reflections

Ezra is one today. The boy with 2 names. The little guy who refuses to sleep. The baby that has the biggest fan club and takes manhandling like a champ. I have had him for 365 days on the outside and he is just the easiest going baby (sans night time) baby I probably have had. 

Still hardly a hair on his head. Just started walking 2 weeks ago and is ecstatic that he can go where he wants to. Has 7 teeth and a gap-y smile that brightens my heart. His eyes are big and blue and soulful. He is the slowest eater, but can put a lot of food away. He adores his brother and sister and Dad and they adore him. He is a bit of a momma's boy and always wants to be up in my arms and see what I am doing. He gives the best snuggles and hugs, but does not give kisses. He is still hard to get a genuine laugh out of unless its a courtesy laugh, which are funny. Many people say his cry sounds like a laugh, that he is a spitting image of Dan, and that he has a great smile. He loves peanut butter and jam sandwiches, yogurt, cheese, and recently graham crackers. 

His nicknames are Ez, Ez-Bez, Za-za, Zaz, za-za-ga-booz-ga, zazy, E-Z-Squeeze, and still occasionally Dash. :) 

It is interesting to me that being a mom to all of my children changes me in different ways, mostly for the better--and some towards insanity. I have been re-reading my sporatic journal entries about Ezra's last year and was reminded about this experience and thought I would post it on the 'ol blog. Maybe it will kick start me into actually documenting more stuff on here. But.....probably not. 

This is a journal entry from last August. 

"Ezra hasn't been sleeping. I tell everyone that he isn't. The person checking out my groceries, the librarian, people at the park. EVERYONE! It has been consuming me because the lack of sleep is frustrating. Well, a few weeks ago I decided to take matters into my own hands. He was going to cry it out. A 5 month old does NOT need to eat every hour in the night. He self soothes for naps, and he can go 4 hours easy in the day time, so he can go AT LEAST 4 hours at night. Right? RIGHT??? Anyway, I was strong in my resolve, dang it!

Well, 10 o clock rolls around and he starts crying. GAHHHH! I hadn't even gone to bed yet. I buried my face in the couch cushion and growled. I wanted to go to bed, but now I couldn't because if he saw me in our room, he would cry even harder. And sleeping on the couch was hard because, well....he was crying. 800 square feet isn't enough space to NOT hear it. I waffled back and forth in my resolve. 

Should I just go in and nurse him? It had been 3 hours, that's basically 4 right? He would just go back to sleep and I could go to bed. 

NO!

I was strong in my resolve. 

At least 4 hours. I knew he could do it. 

As he cried I almost convinced myself to go sit in the van for an hour and then I wouldn't have to listen to it. But I oddly wanted to listen to it to make sure he was ok. 

After 25 minutes I army crawled into our room, to peek and make sure he wasn't stuck in the crib because his crying was just so sad. (parenthood at its finest...am I right?)  He was fine and I wriggled onto the bed and watched the clock tick by. I told myself I would get him at 11--at the 4 hour mark. 

After another 5 minutes I nearly jumped up to get him but then I asked myself a question:

Why am I even doing this? What does it matter whether he gets up so often? It is just a phase probably anyway. WHY am I making or letting him cry?

The answer? I wanted him to progress. I want him to sleep. Sleep will make him healthy, happy, and feel rested. I don't want him to be 30 and need his mom to go back to sleep! Or need bedtime snacks every 2 hours of the night! I love sleep and I want him to sleep LIKE ME. I am doing it for myself, but I am also doing it FOR HIM.  

As I was thinking this, Dan poked his head into the dark room. He crept around the crib and reached inside the crib and grabbed his pacifier and tried to drop it into his mouth. HAHA! Ezra didn't see him because he was crying too hard. Dan kind of slid down and sat by the crib. "Come on buddy!" I pleaded silently. "you have 15 more minutes and then I will come in and scoop you up and feed you if that is what you need. But I know you can get yourself back to sleep and I know you can go 4 hours because you have done it before! In fact I know you can go longer! But if you need it in 15 minutes, I am there, because I know you can do it!" 

Then I had this moment of clarity on how God parents us. 

We are figuratively in a crib and in the dark. Sometimes we cry out in the night because we are scared, frustrated, hurt, angry, sad, tired, or lonely. And GOD IS THERE. He hears our cries. In fact his hand is IN THE CRIB trying to pacify us and comfort us but sometimes we don't see it. And why does he let us cry? Suffer? Struggle? Feel angry, hurt or sadness and frustration?Because he wants us to progress. He wants us to be like Him. And we can't, unless He lets us. He won't give us more than we can take. Just figuratively 4 hours. And He isn't in the van waiting for us to figure it out. He is right outside the crib listening to every single cry. He wants to hear it. "

"I feel as though I have had so many moments in the dark hours of the night and in breathing in this baby of mine that he allows me to feel God's love for me in a perspective that I have never been able to before. His spirit is calm and peaceful (unless its at night or he is sick and uncomfortable.) I have felt so often that Ezra has allowed me to dig deeper into who I am as a soul, not just a human. He has healed me and given me peace." 

January

"Last night Ezra just wanted to be snuggled and I was frustrated that he NEEDED me so much at night. But perhaps during the 3 months prior to his birth, my stress or anxiety was keeping him up at night and he was up WITH ME. I had several nights where the culmination of pregnancy and Dan's cancer kept me awake, and my mind would push to take off to places that caused me to worry and stress, Ezra would push and kick and thump around and remind me, to trust. To have hope. Faith. Confidence in God. Happiness. Peace. Love. Joy. Because his very existence was the result of all of that. He comforted me when I NEEDED it. I guess all is fair, and it is evening out. HA! I think that having Griff be such a good sleeper, I went into this 3rd baby stuff thinking it would be the same. It has been humbling to realize that I don't ever have it figured out and I have to be in tune with what my kids needs are individually. I have been thinking today how beautiful families are. We need each other and we give of each other even when it isn't convenient. We give when we are tired or don't want to because that kind of deep love comes BECAUSE you sacrifice and give up things that don't matter, for people who very much do."

But now this boy of mine is 1. It hasn't just gotten more crowded physically in this 800 square foot space since he moved in a year ago, but his existence has added to our home with feelings of peace, love and happiness and (noise) that have it nearly bursting. And although it drives me bonkers and crazy sometimes, I love it, and I love him. So glad you are ours Zaz.

Pictures taken around 2 months by our awesome friend and neighbor Jen Berg!