Of Coconut Oil and Maternal Shame

“It’s not your job to like me, it’s mine.” ~ Byron Katie

I planned to write this post on Thursday and I was going to open my imaginary post with: today has been one of those days. I didn’t manage to post, so I was going to post on Friday and say, yesterday was one of those days. Well, guess what, Friday turned on to be one of those days too and now it is two o’clock in the morning on Saturday…and no post yet! I’ve been hitting some parenting roadblocks lately and having some unpleasant moments with my kids. Moments that I’m not proud of and that feature me crying on the floor in the pile of broken glass (and broken dreams?!) as well as saying harsh things I later regret. Alaina isn’t sleeping well at night and I’m at that point in toddler nursing where I spend more time feeling assaulted than I do feeling warmly bonded. On Thursday, she kept me up until 4:00 a.m. and I felt trapped in a “hell dimension.” However, as is often true of mothering, sweet moments alternate with hell dimensions. That morning as I was trying to finally sneak away from her, she flopped toward me and mumbled in her sleep: babies love em mamas. Yep, they sure do! Earlier this month, she charmed my heart by commenting: “Me love mine daddy Mark.” Taking a couple of steps back shows me that being literally exhausted does not contribute to my parenting reserves and does not, actually, mean I’m a bad parent after all. I’ve been known to tell students in my Child Welfare class that worrying about being a “bad mother” usually means you aren’t one. I need to take my own advice.

So, I identified with this article about the whole notion of “mommy guilt” and how the phrase may actually be a cover for a more insidious and culturally-induced mommy shame:

Just one problem: “mommy guilt” isn’t really guilt at all, but rather shame. And shame, unlike guilt which is a useful and sometimes appropriate emotion, shame is just harmful. Guilt is “I made a bad choice”, while shame is “I am bad”. Guilt is something that helps us to notice when we’ve made an error that we need to correct. Shame makes us feel as though there is nothing we can do to make it better other than change who we are. Of course, changing behaviors is one thing; changing who you are as a person is another (impossible) thing entirely.

via “Mommy Guilt” is a Misnomer – Mothering Community.

I think a lot depends on personality. I know a lot of mothers who do not seem to take things that happen with their kids as personally as I do. Just yesterday, we had an incident during which my boys experienced a catastrophic brain failure and had a mayonnaise fight on the porch front of the house while I was trying to get ready for company. I ended up crying and ranting to myself about my pathetic talents as a parent (because I said something pretty mean to them about their lack of brain-powers). Another friend commented, “let me get this straight: your kids throw mayonnaise around and you’re the one who cries and thinks you did something wrong?” Um, yes, that’s me. I also explain to my students that it is really painful to know better and to watch yourself do it anyway. It stinks. Knowing a lot about the right way to do something, for me, gives me a lot more options of things to feel guilty or bad about! Isn’t that FUN?! As I previously wrote:

Being a mindful mama can be painful.

I am acutely aware of how often I fail, mess up, and let myself down in this work of conscious mothering. When I decide to go through a drive-through after a long day in town, I am very aware of each preservative laden, saturated fat heavy, factory-farmed, non-fair trade bite that crosses our lips. When I’m tired and have low energy for responsive parenting and I say “yes” my boys can watch a DVD, I know I am using it as a “babysitter” and as a “plug-in drug.” I cringe to hear myself say at times, “you guys are driving me crazy!” It is painful to know better and to watch myself do it anyway.

Instead of an inner guide, I too often listen to my inner critic. My judge. The perfect mama that sits on my shoulder and lets me know how often I screw it all up. I laugh sometimes as I reference the invisible panel of “good parents” that sits in my head judging me and finding me lacking.

For me, being a mindful mama is bound up in complicated ways with being a perfect mama; a “good mother.” In this way, it is NOT true mindfulness—I respond to my children based on how I think I should respond, how a “good mindful mama” would respond, not necessarily based on what is actually happening. Too often, I respond as I believe Dr. Sears, Jon Kabat-Zinn, or Marie Winn (The Plug in Drug) thinks I should respond, not based on reality or how we feel in the moment. This is the antithesis of true mindfulness. Mindfulness means an awareness of what is, it does not mean a constant monitoring of how I have failed. If I cannot be flexible and compassionate with myself, how do I expect to be a flexible and compassionate mother?

via Mindful Mama: Presence and Perfectionism in Parenting | Talk Birth.

Though I wrote this essay something like four years ago, I’ve not yet corrected this tendency and my desire to be able to do so, guess what, gives me something else to beat myself up over! I call this, “berating self for self-beratement” and then I berate self for berating self for self-beratement. Repeat. I am an introvert and I do enjoy my own company very much, but sometimes it is mean and mind-twisting company that I keep.

This post initially began because after the previously referenced night trapped in a non-sleeping hell dimension, an entire brand-new jar of organic coconut oil got smashed all over the kitchen floor by Alaina, because I foolishly dared to dash quickly to the bathroom while cooking. While cleaning it up, my other children did not grasp that asking me to tie their bathing suits at the moment was NOT A GOOD IDEA. Enter the mother-crying-on-the-floor-in-pile-of-broken-glass-coconut-oil-and-broken-dreams scenario previously alluded to. The whole experience stemmed from not listening to my own need to go to the freaking bathroom before fixing lunch. Duh. How basic. I just wrote about that this same week. I ran through the shoulding, the scolding, the self-beratement, the catastrophizing, a touch of martyrdom (everything I do is about trying to help my kids and now look!), a touch of guilt-tripping and blame (couldn’t you have noticed and stopped her?!), some yelling, some I can’t believe its, some semi-screaming about how is going to the BATHROOM REALLY SO MUCH TO ASK, some ranting about how coconut oil costs $9 a jar and why don’t I just throw dollars all over the floor and then sweep them into the trash, and then culminating in a hysterical diatribe about “what am I teaching my kids about handling simple little no-big-deal mistake by acting like it is the end of the world? THIS is how you’re going to grow up and think you should handle things.” SOB!!!!!!!!!!!

I read this on Facebook and said oh yeah:

One zen student said, “My teacher is the best. He can go days without eating.”
The second said, “My teacher has so much self-control, he can go days without sleep.”
The third said, “My teacher is so wise that he eats when he’s hungry and sleeps when he’s tired.”

And, I read this too:

If you ever see me out and about with my kids, you might be surprised at some of the interactions you might witness. For example, If you and I were in the same store today, you might have overheard my comment to my son that went something like this: “NO! You can’t!”

It didn’t exactly come out of nowhere; there was context. But that was about the extent of it. There was no empathy, no connection, no acknowledgement of what he wished he could do, no communication of understanding, no “I can tell that you reeeaallly wish you could take that toy home; We’re not getting it, and it’s OK to be sad about that.” Just a snappy, rude no.

If you saw me then and didn’t know me, it might surprise you to learn that I write and teach classes on positive parent-child relations. And if you do know me and saw that little outburst, it might surprise you to see me communicate to my child in this manner. And no matter what you might think of me based on this interaction you may have witnessed today, I won’t be offended. Because…

I know my son.
I know myself.
I know positive parenting.

I know that was not an example of positive parenting.

I know positive parenting is not based on one interaction.
I know my son will be OK.
I know we’ve had plenty of awesome parent-child moments before this one.
I know there will be plenty more.

I know our relationship will be OK.

I know other moms have moments just like this everyday.
I know they’re good moms.
I know I’m a good mom.

I know that in every situation, context matters, judgement never helps, and those moments are just small parts of a larger whole. Fortunately, parenting looks different for everyone and perfect for no one.

Kelly Bartlett

I was heard to lament on Friday afternoon that I worry that I’m a better writer than I am a person. I get complimented on my “lovely words” and “beautiful poems” and I think, how come I can write lovely words and then still yell at my kids? I’m horrible! (The maternal shame card is strong with this one.) And, I reminded myself of something I already wrote:

Womenergy moved humanity across continents, birthed civilization, invented agriculture, conceived of art and writing, pottery, sculpture, and drumming, painted cave walls, raised sacred stones and built Goddess temples. It rises anew during ritual, sacred song, and drumming together. It says She Is Here. I Am Here. You Are Here and We Can Do This. It speaks through women’s hands, bodies, and heartsongs. Felt in hope, in tears, in blood, and in triumph.

via Womenergy (Womanergy) | Talk Birth.

I also came upon a very old partial essay that I wrote when my second son was about two in which I tried to convey the every day, sometimes simultaneous and paradoxical dualism of parenting:

Every day I succeed. Every day I fail.
Every day I listen. And I say, “I can’t listen to you right now” or “PLEASE stop talking.”
Every day I am patient and impatient.
Every day I savor and cherish. And every day I am resentful and frustrated.
Every day I am focused and attentive and also distracted.
Every day I play and every day I say, “I can’t play right now.”
Every day I say yes. And no. Every day I say, “sure, why not?” and also, “now is NOT the time.”
Every day I hug and snuggle. Every day I say, “please stop hanging on me.”
Every day I please and disappoint.
Every day I center and pause appreciatively in the moment. And, every day I rush and hurry.
Every day I watch and notice and every day I say, “not now, I’m busy.”
Every day I am responsive and every day I am frazzled and DONE.
Every day I rise and fall.
Every day I hope and despair.
Every day I am captivated and captive.
Every day I offer guidance and a bad example.
Every day I am consistent and inconsistent.
Every day I make myself proud and I let myself down.
Every day I embrace and pull away.
Every day I am clear and confused.
Every day I am decisive and indecisive.
Every day I am empathetic and “I don’t have time for this!”
Every day I am encouraging and discouraging.
Every day I feel bonded and bound.
Every day I support myself and make myself crazy!
Every day I give and every day I feel completely done giving.
Every day I permit and deny.
Every day I feel a sense of promise and a sense of being denied.
Every day I am calm and exasperated.
Every day I am gentle and harsh.

Every day I hold and tend and nurture and protect.

Every day I am a good mother and every day I am a “bad” mother.

There are no absolutes.

On that coconut oil bad day, I then packed up the kids and went to the river, where they walked adorably in the water together:

Caught crawdads:

And helped each other in ways that warmed my weary and critical heart:

The forced perspective in this one makes me laugh as well as the fact that it kind of looks like she’s carrying two tiny brothers!

But, lest this be a too-tidy wrap-up of my post, while at the river, bugs crawled on our legs, the kids whined a lot, people sat on the cracker sandwiches I was making, the cheese I brought was actually rotten, and we forgot our crawdad catchers and I once again expressed non-positive-parenting sentiments about children’s brain-powers since I had reminded them to get the damn crawdad catchers like 8 billion times. The dualism again.

We got home and got ready for Lann’s tae kwon do class in the whirlwind and as I was about to leave, I saw THIS:

What’s this you say? Here is another look…

Yes, that would be some kind of Ben 10 action figure stuck to my wall with playdoh. WTH?!?!?!?! This is the very same playdoh that I complained about earlier in the day when finding the container empty—“hey guys, where did the playdoh go? Hey guys, can you find that green playdoh, I don’t want it to get stepped on somewhere.” When I saw this, I could only laugh.

And, then we went to watch Lann take his test for a yellow belt. We were adorable as we watched:

Lann did a good job overall…

We went to get ice cream and I was charmed again by the adorableness of my offspring and their friend hanging out:

There are no absolutes

just life as it unfolds

and I watch

and tell about it.

Happy Father’s Day!

Jun16

“Dads can play a key role early on in pregnancy to help mom and baby get the care that’s safest and healthiest…He’s a very important advocate, and can provide emotional support for mom throughout labor and birth.” –Tara Owens Shuler, Lamaze President-elect (via Five Tips for Expectant Dads to Prepare for Labor and Birth — Giving Birth with Confidence)

“Fatherhood challenges us, but it also enlarges us and reshapes our perception of what is important in the world around us. As we take stock of this new world, we find that doing our job as a dad is inherently honorable and respectful, and brings to us the dignity that goes with the territory. Far from being emasculating, being a dad makes us men in the finest sense of the term.” –Dads Adventure (via Happy Father’s Day! | Talk Birth, 2011)

“I share…with the dads in my classes—your most important job is just to love her the way you love her, not to try to be anything different or more ‘special’ than you already are…” (via Fathers, Fear, and Birth | Talk Birth)

“A few weeks ago, I spoke to a mother from one of my most recent birth classes. She told me something that her husband said to her in labor that I found very profound. Staff at the hospital were becoming concerned that this mother’s labor was ‘not progressing’ and ‘not normal’ She, in turn, became worried that she wasn’t normal and that something was wrong. Her husband told her: “There is no normal. There is no right way. There is only your birth.” (via No Right Way + Fathers at Birth | Talk Birth.)

It is Father’s Day! I know I spend most of my time writing about women and mothers, but dads are amazing people as well. And, conveniently, I keep finding things I’d like to share about fathers and birth this week, including this article by a male doula:

As a birth professional, I have worked with many amazing dads who glowed at least as bright as their pregnant partners. At most of the births that I have attended, the tears coming from the eyes of men overwhelmed with joy and relief at the birth of their baby have been just as wet as those of the mothers. I am not trying to equate the experiences of becoming a father with becoming a mother. However, I do hope to shed light on how birth professionals’ communication with fathers can influence the pregnancy and childbirth experience not just for fathers but also for mothers and babies. Like many birth professionals, I have worked hard to support the whole “client family” and honor the role of each person involved…

via Science & Sensibility » Celebrate Fathers; Birth Professionals Play A Critical Role.

And, just for a laugh!

15 Exceptional Dads Who Deserve Parenting Awards.

I’m also remembering babyloss fathers at this time of year as well after scanning over these Healing Resources Specific to Fathers: Long Term Healing/Perspectives – Still Birth Day.

I’m not sure if anyone remembers, but in early 2011 as I watched my husband bond with his new baby girl, I explained the following:

We have discussed how each of our babies has been a catalyst for big changes in our home situation. Our first baby was the catalyst we needed to move away from our by-the-highway-no-yard townhouse in a city and onto our own land in the country near my parents. Our second baby was the catalyst we needed to finish building our real house and to move out of our temporary house and into our permanent home. So, we are now wondering what kind of catalyst our baby girl will be? We have spent our entire married life (13 years!) saying that we want to live a “home based life.” I truly do not think it is (biologically) normal, desirable, or healthy for anyone to spend 40+ hours a week out of their home, regardless of whether or not they have children or who the primary caregiver is. I don’t think fathers belong at work that much time, I don’t think mothers do either, and I don’t think children belong at school every day. The home-based life idea came to us long before we had kids and it came from all the reading and thinking I did about the simple living movement. So, I wonder—and hope—that maybe our new baby will be the catalyst we need to finally face the fear of possible failure (and/or no money!) that accompanies jettisoning his full-time job and building our other “multiple streams of income.” Maybe we will, maybe we’ll keep talking ourselves out of it, but that is what our baby girl makes us feel like doing!

via Fatherbaby | Talk Birth.

That time has finally come and he gave his notice at work on Friday! His last day is June 28th and we are feeling a little freaked out. This is huge. This is also a decision that has been a long time coming, having tossed it around for the first time in 2001, two full years before we even had any children at all. We’ve gotten to a point at which it feels like it is less helpful to our family to have him at work than it is to have him home and that the costs of him working in his present job are outweighing the benefits. He has several different project ideas to explore and also a whole heck of a lot of life to live. I promised we’d take some time to “un-job” or detox from the regular work world for at least three months before we start trying to explore the other ways we have in mind for him to make money. He’s been sitting at a desk every day since he was five years old. It is time for a change! I’m feeling a bit of pressure with the shift of household wage-earning responsibility to my shoulders, especially since I make about 60% of his salary (and I work on a contract basis) and this means our household income is now falling by two-thirds. However, I also remember that he’s been in the position of primary wage-earner for our entire now-15-years of marriage and quite frankly, maybe it is high time for me to take a turn, especially because my work only takes me out of the home for seven hours a week (fourteen on the “heavy” sessions when I teach three classes) and he is gone for fifty or more…hmm…do the math!

Mark and I have always been wonderfully compatible people, but we do sometimes have our differences over parenting. I feel like he is tougher on, and more critical of, the boys than the parenting ideal I hold in my head. I have been terrible for years about butting in and not letting them define the boundaries of their own relationship and I’m also terrible about “correcting” or interfering with what he is doing with the kids. As I looked through pictures from our recent trip to include in this post, I saw something really, really clearly: I saw an amazing dad taking good care of his kids. It was woven throughout our entire trip. Just because his communication with them doesn’t always look like what I read in all my books, doesn’t mean it isn’t working…

At the Lego store at Downtown Disney (and, yes, he’s holding my purse because it was heavy).

Tigger!

Smooching on the ferris wheel at California Adventure. This may have been after declaring, “oh, well, we’re going to have fun without you!” to our stick-in-the-mud sons who refused to ride!

Watching a parade at California Adventure

Alaina’s first time at the ocean!

Watching the sunset!

Keeping a llittle girl warm at the windswept, freezing cold Montana De Oro side trip.

At Montana De Oro

Walking a sand labyrinth with daddy.

Silhouette daddy!

Yes, Zander and Alaina are both attempting to do the Vulcan salute.

Speaking of my husband’s awesomeness, might I also mention that I’m here at the La Leche League of Missouri conference on Father’s Day and who is here with me, taking care of the kids, driving, etc., so that I can do something important to me. I really appreciate him!

Also, I can’t let Father’s Day go by without a picture of me with my own dad! These were taken in April when my grandma was sick.

I really appreciate him too!

Happy Father’s Day!

Tuesday Tidbits: Vacation!

Jun4

When this post publishes, we’ll be in an airplane on our way home from our vacation to California. Our first purpose in going was for my grandma’s memorial services, but we decided to make a full-scale trip out of it. We went to Disneyland, to Legoland, and to go tourmaline mining. We went to Fresno for my grandma’s committal, which I planned and facilitated, and for her Celebration of Life luncheon, which was beautifully planned by my aunt and had an excellent and touching turn out (260 people when we only planned for 200). Then, we ended with four days at Pismo Beach where my uncle has a condo. Everything went well overall and I will post some trip picture albums soon. For my Tuesday Tidbits this week though, I’m just offering a couple quick shots:

Lann ended up going on Space Mountain three times! I like this picture because the strangers behind us look so casual and like they should be on an ad for Disneyland.

Playing at the beach in Carlsbad.

Waiting for the gate to open at Legoland! We went on Memorial Day, which I was dreading, and it was shockingly deserted!

Couldn’t resist a pic with Lego Indy because he’s holding a birth goddess! The classic golden “idol” from Raiders is really an Aztec birth goddess figure—for some reason in the big Lego version, there is no baby emerging though. 😦

Alaina loved the “tea party ride.”

Had to have one of these iconic pix, taken by friendly passerby!

Lego Darth Vader!

We were dragging by the time we got to Miniland and to Star Wars land, but these guys were so cool!

The crew getting ready to catch some waves. My brother and sister-in-law, plus my uncle and cousins and Mark. (I love Zander in this picture!)

My uncle showed us how to take silhouette pictures at sunset at Pismo and I love how they turned out.

Okay, so that was more pictures than I originally thought!

I’ve heard my grandma’s blue hydrangea is blooming at home and I miss my woods and my own house! Homeward bound…

Birthdays! (and lots of other stuff)

May20

My birthday was at the beginning of this month. I uploaded some pictures and was going to just post a quick post, but then some days passed and then some more days. I added some more pictures and thought of more things to write and it has just been languishing in my drafts folder. Things keep happening and so I think I’ll add a couple more pictures before I post, blah, blah, blah. I almost deleted the whole thing since now May is practically over and my bday was weeks ago, but since I bothering uploading the pix, I’m just going to post it!

May is a busy month for us. It is my birthday and then Mother’s Day and then my mom’s birthday and my dad’s birthday and Zander’s birthday. We also have a whole group of our work party friends who have May birthdays (and playgroup friends too!). May 12th was the 18th anniversary of my first date with my husband. May 16th was the fifteenth anniversary of my college graduation. I feel like I’m getting old! And, it is weird to think about how close that college student girl feels and also how very far away she feels. My parents both turned 60—I had a surprise party/healing ritual for my mom as part of our spring women’s retreat as well as a ceremony for our 12-year-old work party friend whose birthday was the same day. On Mother’s Day, we had a family memorial ceremony for my grandma. In the middle of all these celebrations, I’ve been wrapping up the school session (including grading almost 100 papers…split up in two batches of almost 50), preparing for the summer school session, plotting with Mark about him quitting his job, trying to help motherbabies breastfeed happily, trying to stick with some kind of homeschool “schedule” for my kids (using the term extremely loosely). Oh yeah, and my tiny little sweet daughter also had major dental work under general anesthesia last Tuesday. One of my Facebook friends pointed out that no wonder I’ve been feeling taxed. Yeah, duh. I don’t know why I can’t extend myself that grace. Instead, I’ve been berating myself at various intervals about my “inability” to handle it all. I’ve also been planning our big trip to California. $2300 later and WAY too many hours thinking, checking, and strategizing, I ended up with five plane tickets and we’re going. We decided to to go ahead and make a full vacation out of it—Disneyland, tourmaline mining, Legoland, and Pismo Beach! My grandma’s committal service (which I am planning and facilitating) and her celebration of life luncheon is in Fresno in the middle of our trip.

This week as I tried to finish those last bleeping papers, I found out that I’d made a mistake with our plane tickets—having a p.m. flight from San Diego to Fresno rather than the a.m. flight I thought we had. I almost lost it. Flipped out. I’m serious. I felt like I had officially exceeded my actual ability to cope and that I may possibly break down in some way. More. Than. Humanly. Possible. To. Handle. As it was, we made the semi-bizarre choice to just buy some new tickets that restored the “rightful” a.m. flight schedule. These middle-of-the-journey tickets were only $68 each and we decided it was really a fairly trivial amount and we should just do it. We’re taking our family of five to CA with carry-on luggage only and we’re packing like a boss! Seriously, we’re rocking this thing.

Oh, and just this afternoon I also finished my twelfth class for my D.Min degree. I’ve got about 14 left, plus my dissertation. I have three in progress and signed up for two more to start during the summer session. How do I do it?!?!? Heck if I know. 😉 Maybe it is time to feel impressed at my own capacities again rather than mad at myself for not getting more done, for being “behind,” for staying up too late, for taking too long to return phone calls, for leaving some emails unanswered and books unreviewed, for being sometimes short-tempered, for screwing up a.m. and p.m., for not getting around to the blog posts I’d hoped to write, for not keeping up with requests for new sculptures, for not having a birthday surprise of some kind for my dad too, and for never feeling “finished” enough to rest.

Here is what I originally swiped from my Facebook to share about my birthday:

Uh oh. I spent the first 8 minutes of my 35th year still working on these dang bibliographies. This has been my worst/least productive grading stint yet (the CA trip planning/purchasing ate up my usual “free” day). I’m determined to have a FREE day tomorrow (okay, technically, today, but it doesn’t count until I go to bed!)–I’m going to wallow around in books and listen to guided meditations (you know, with the three kids climbing on me!) and plan rituals and celebrations and not do anything I don’t feel like doing 🙂

It is SO flipping hard to focus on grading these bibliographies when my brain is turning over Disneyland plans, hotel reservations, car rental, and also finding just the *right* stuff for my grandma’s memorial service. The good news is that I have some really rocking students this session and they make some of the grading easy!

—

Later update:

Thirty-four years ago I was born! As my birthday present to myself, I DID manage to finish grading the last bibliographies and I’m taking the day off to hang around and wallow in books. I think I might do a tech-off day (or, at least, a class-off day!) Oh, and I bought two tiny little Japanese dolls for myself at Goodwill too. I do birthdays right!

When I wake up and hear rainfall on my birthday I always feel like the planet is wishing me a happy birthday too (there was a heavy rainstorm the day I was born). Alaina told me I should have a cake with “nonnie babies” on it. On my actual birthday, my mom took me to a tea room in a neighboring town for a birthday lunch and then I came home with three kinds of tea and the kids and I had a tea party! (in many ways an excuse to eat sugar cubes and this involves sort of obsessive negotiation over them rather than just enjoying ourselves!) I asked the boys if they would play with Alaina so I could have an easier time getting ready to go. After about ten minutes, Lann said, “whew, she’s pretty much like an energy tick.” I rolled! I love having a nine-year-old and a toddler. So much different and easier than having a toddler and a preschooler was.

Okay, so here is a gallery of the pictures I meant to post on several occasions, plus some more I just added in today:

: Birthday rosebush from my good friend!

: Kids and I have a sort-of-fun tea party after my birthday lunch.

: Alaina became obsessed with this mother-baby butterfly card from The Mother’s Wisdom deck. She really, really wanted to be able to “hold. dat. bufly. baby.”

: Birthday sculpture by Zander already shared in prior post.

: Mark made me a nifty necklace with a lobster claw where a pendant would usually go, so that I can swap out central pendants at will, or layer multiples together like I did with these two beauties that I also got for my birthday.

: Tiniest Shaker carrier ever! My dad made this for me.

: Sculpture by Lann for my birthday (shared in prior post).

: Mini Shaker box and carrier by my dad.

: Little Japanese dolls from Goodwill—one has a baby inside! (they both are supposed to, but one is missing)

: Stonehenge necklace from myself.

: Bracelet of awesomeness.

: Mark surprised me with this cool bronze Artemis statue.

: Birthday rosebush, Hathor, and tiny crocheted Goddess of Willendorf

: The tinest crocheted Goddess of Willendorf by my talented mother. She is the coolest.

: Lunch at the adorable little tea room in Licking, MO.

: First attempt at the crocheted goddess.

: Second attempt.

: Hathor—I requested her because she was described as “Goddess for the Exhausted.”

: Lilacs bloomed! Oh wait…this was the ONLY flower on the whole bush.

: My friend helped me plant elderberry plants during the work party we had at our house the day after my birthday.

: Alaina scoping out the amazing progress the work party made on the aquaponics system in the greenhouse.

: How much work is it to get 12 people arranged for a group photo with a timer cam app after having a memorial ceremony?

: Actually, only two shots and we look amazing, if I do say so myself (my timer cam app and that is why I’m crammed in with awkward legs).

: Baby chicks hatched on Mother’s Day. Me loves ’em!

: Alaina loves them too!

: Another good friend made and embroidered this shirt and jumper for one of my dolls. I love it! No one has made me doll clothes since my grandma used to. Isn’t she cute? My friend said it was from her inner child to mine 🙂

: Curly-haired cutie playing at the river during a friend’s birthday party.

: Arranging “tools.”

: The memorial blue hydrangea we planted for my grandma.

: The day after surgery: showing off new teeth (the previously poorly repaired ones WERE able to be saved!) as well as a new baby chick!

: Beautiful print of a babyloss mandala by Amy Swagman. My mom surprised me with this for my birthday after thoughtfully contributing to our Amethyst Network fundraiser and receiving the print as a premium.

: I took this picture of my precious, sacred overlook in the woods, so that I can look at it while traveling.

: Lann finished his first year of gymnastics and got a medal at their spring show!

: This one almost makes me cry–it was amazing to see his confidence increase over the past year and I feel like a “good” homeschooling mom to be taking him to classes based on his own interests. I also think it is really good for him to interact with and develop relationships with people outside of my direct scrutiny.

: Set of trading cards Lann drew for me for Mother’s Day.

: My sad little groggy post-surgical sweetie.

: Right before going in for her dental work.

: Maiden threshold cord.

: Spring motherhood and healing altar set up for our spring women’s retreat.

: While we were having ceremonies, Alaina was chilling at the river with our friends. When I saw this picture via text, I also felt like crying to see my big girl!

: Right after the close of the healing cermeony/birthday ritual for my mom.

: Just today we had a substitute birthday for Zander since we will be gone on his actual birthday (embarking on that screwed up time San Diego to Fresno flight…twice if we want to!)

: For his birthday party, I ordered movie makeup supplies ala Face Off and Alaina jumped in on the action and made herself have a “ceepy arm.”

: Zander working on putting makeup onto his latex scar (not pre-made, we made them from scratch with liquid latex!)

: This is a bad close-eye special, but I had to include it because I was so proud of my first foray into “special effects” makeup. I do not have enough talent to take this show on the road, but I was stil happy with how it turned out.

: Zander’s scar and make up work looked amazing!

: And, so did Lann’s!

: And, I gifted myself with (yes, *another*) new ring. This one (the one with the malachite stone on my ring finger) is a “travel” ring present for myself to ease my jitters at traveling away from my beautiful home and woods.

Birth Stories by Two Year Olds…

May9

With each of my kids when they are somewhere between two and three years old, I feel inspired to ask them if they remember when they were born. They always say, “yes,” and I say, “tell me about it” and they do. Lann’s story was a succinct and accurate version of what happened. He said:

Toddlers can do birth art too! Love the placenta in a bowl and the baby attached to the mama with cord (yes, I know the two are mutually exclusive, but I love it anyway!)

Toddlers can do birth art too! Lann drew this after Zander was born. Love the placenta in a bowl and the baby attached to the mama with cord (yes, I know the two are mutually exclusive, but I love it anyway!)

Swimming
Swimming down out of mama.
Crying!
Nursies.
Happy now.

As I’ve written before, he did start crying loudly with only his head sticking out. Almost immediately after he was born, I put him to my breast offering him what I spontaneously called “nursies” and he was, in fact, then happy.

I asked Zander on his third birthday and his version of his birth was as follows:

First you saw a little head poking out.
Then a little arm.
Then another little arm.
And another and another.
And me was little alien.

He was, in fact, born slowly like this with head emerging and then arms and then upper body and then the rest of him. I asked him what happened to his extra arms and he said:

They actually melted.

He was nursing at the time and paused, popped off and said:

and, my extra eye melted too…

That’s my little Zander for you!

I love how the baby looks like it is “floating” in this one.

Yesterday morning, I spontaneously asked Alaina if she remembered being born and like the others she said yes. I asked her what happened and she said:

My baby! My baby!

I asked, “did you hear mama saying that?”

She said yes and then said,

Now, nonnies. Then she just gazed off into the distance like she was remembering.

I asked her if she remembered anything else and she repeated the above. Shortest of the children’s birth stories, but also distilled to its essence 😉

I’m curious to know if other people ask their children this question and what kind of responses to you get? I love each of my children’s birth stories as told by them!

Both boys made me a birth art sculpture for my birthday this year and each is about a baby being born:

Zander’s sculpture: The Goddess of Birth

Lann’s sculpture.

Goodbye

Apr24

My grandma, Lyla, was a beautifully active, vibrant woman and her quick devolution due to advanced and very aggressive pancreatic cancer was a tremendous shock to our family. I’ve always admired and respected her and been proud of her for all of her accomplishments and activities. She was not a particularly emotionally demonstrative woman, but it is amazing to think about all the ways her presence is woven through my days even though she lives 2000 miles away–the sweater I put on every morning is one she knit for me, her quilts are on my kids’ bedroom walls and on all our beds, magazine subscriptions she gifts us with are in the car and bathroom…we’re connected in many ways and I don’t know what life will look like without her in it. She died early this morning and I can’t quite believe it. I remember when my great-grandmother died (at 88) my grandma told my mom: “now, I’m an orphan.” It is a moment that always stuck with me because I realized that no matter how old you get, you still feel like someone’s daughter. When I started packing for our craft camp this afternoon, I packed quilts to take for our beds that she made for us, I looked at Christmas pillowcases she made for my kids, and I was so impressed with how she managed to be such a part of our lives from such a distance.

I’ve cried so much in the last week. I honestly didn’t know I would feel this loss so keenly–it is in the “right” order, she lived a full and beautiful life, and etc., etc. One of the things that will totally set me off is to look at my own little girl and think, “but Mamoo used to be someone’s little girl!” And, then I think, but isn’t this what I WANT for my own little children? To grow up and have grandchildren and great-grandchildren? Yes, duh. And, I got to be almost 34 still having her as a part of my life. The other thing that gets me going is the thought that my kids are the only kids in this side of the family who get to have a Mamoo, who get to have this amazing great-grandmother. When my brother and sister have kids, they won’t have a Mamoo. And, then I have to laugh a little at myself that one of the things that has made me cry the hardest during this whole experience is based on these imaginary future people who may never even exist. I told my dad about it this morning, laughing while crying and crying at the same time, and he said, “it is because you feel the break in the chain.” I do.

I’ve written more about this on my other blog, but on Sunday, we thought we’d reached my grandma’s final day on earth. I spent the day thinking about her, crying, talking to my husband, and fanatically checking my phone for texts from my mom (side note to those people who write critical blog posts about “distracted” people “glued” to their phones, you may do well to remember that some of those distracted-looking people might be looking for texts about dying grandmothers from their own distraught mothers and that this phone-based link in fact represents connection and not disconnection or distraction). I went to the woods and I sat on the rocks and sang Woman Am I. My mom told me she’d been singing it to my grandma as she listened to the erratic sounds of her breaths, thinking each was the last. My letter did make it in time to be read to my grandma while she was still conscious enough to indicate she heard it. And, on Friday I did a FaceTime call with my mom and she took it to my grandma’s bed so that I could talk to her. She didn’t open her eyes, but she murmured a greeting and she smiled when she heard little Alaina say, “hi, Mamoo!” So, we were able to say some final words and goodbye “in person,” which was really, really difficult, but also a gift. There is something I feel really poignantly in the mother to daughter to mother to daughter to mother to daughter connection in this life and loss experience. I know that little boys are part of the generations as well, but not in as direct a line as this particular chain of girls—I’m the oldest daughter of an oldest daughter of an oldest daughter (and my own daughter is an “only daughter,” so while she’s my youngest child she continues a line as the first daughter of a first daughter of a first daughter of a first daughter). So, I made a new sculpture trying to capture that feeling of the three generations of little girls who’ve sat on her lap:

I also made one using a rock I found in the woods that day and another about grief:

I poked around on my computer and plucked out a semi-odd assortment of random pictures that capture my grandma’s spirit and relationships:

: I’m glad we got this picture in October–Alaina is wearing a smocked dress made for me by my grandma when I was a baby!

: Reading to Lann in 2004.

: She probably wouldn’t like this picture, but I like the “whew!” expression of cherishing the little chubby great-grandson.

: Four generations–while not the greatest picture, I really love our matching smiles in this one! Genetic legacy, much?!

: Reading to great-grandsons.

: Adventuresome spirit in the air above the Central Coast in CA with Lann (and my pilot uncle)

: 80th birthday gala almost four years ago. She was fond of making jokes about, “not looking a day over 75,” which is funny because she was always so youthful looking.

: Demo’ing those matching smiles again with both her daughters.

: On Pismo Beach—don’t all 80 year olds hang out on the beach looking this composed?!

: At my wedding in 1998.

: At 83 with her little dog Bonnie just a couple of months ago. One of the other things that makes me cry is picturing her in her little jackets and zoo-themed necklaces. That is how I will always picture her.

Four generations pic from my brother’s wedding in October.

And on my other blog, I wrote a poem:

Go in peace
go in love
and go knowing that you have left behind
something beautiful
something marvelous
something that matters
The fabric of a life well-lived
the hearth of a family well-tended
the heart of a community strengthened
and a never-ending chain of women
unbroken.

You’re our Mamoo
You’re our grandmother
and we say goodbye
and thank you.

Sink deeply
and gently
into the arms and lap
of time
the great mother of us all

She holds you now.
We let go.

I have more things to say, more thoughts about connection, and more thoughts about having watched–from a distance–my mom so tenderly and compassionately holding the space for her mother. She worked so hard and went through a lot to be there for her mom and it was really heroic and loving. I also wish this post wasn’t so “me”-based and was more about my grandma herself, but it is what it is. I can write more later—I really, really want to get something posted before it hits midnight, so it is really published on the same day we lost her.

Kidbits

Apr22

“They look so small and frail but they are so great and magnificent. They are born of the same womb that birthed the cosmos and knitted together the galaxies. If you could see them as they truly are, you would be astounded. You would see not little children, but dancing clouds of light, energy in motion, swimming in an ocean of love. They are so much more than what you see. As are you.”

-William Martin
The Parent’s Tao Te Ching

Some things I saved recently to remember about my funny little children:

Adorable toddler nursling moment: I was carrying Alaina in the kitchen and she patted my chest and said, “love you, nonnies.” Then, she said, “sank you, mommy.” 🙂 ♥

Another charming moment: Alaina standing before me and giving that cute toddler hands raised sort of shrug gesture and saying, “babies…grow…up!” She has also started doing a thing wherein she points at her own belly and says, “baby…belly…me…grow…up,” telling me that she will grow up to have a baby of her own and then points to herself and says “Mama…ME! Babies…grow UP! Mama…ME!”

Zander bought hair gel and spiked up his hair, put on a gold chain and sunglasses, took off his shirt and started doing some rocking dance moves and handstands in the living room. Lann said: “hey, we could start a band and call it the Wiggly Brothers.” Zander continued to groove with no response. Lann repeated himself about three times and then said kind of to himself, “I guess I’ll be the weird one…” ;-D

At the beginning of this month, Lann brought me an illustrated “breakfast menu” and said I could start ordering breakfast from him in the mornings. Each item is 50 cents or $1. SOLD! He has been making me a spinach and cheese omelet many mornings and I really appreciate it. The café is called Big Spoon. It is so fun to have a kid that is nine!

Alaina found some shiny tappy shoes at the thrift shop. The same day, we also bought the Gremlins movies (which I’d never seen) and she energetically explained how she will use her new shoes to kick bad gremlins–she will “hug good Gizmo” and “kick bad Gizmos” (complete with demo-kick shiny shoe action). In case anyone cares, we didn’t let her keep watching it after they mutated and we muted the computer during the “Santa dad in the chimney” story, which Mark mercifully remembered (due to his own past childhood trauma) just in the nick of time.

Said tiny girl likes to push (literal) buttons and last week while still in bed in the morning I was surprised by the serenading CD from the living room where she must have programmed it to be on a timer (I don’t know how to do that myself!) She woke up and I said, “did you make the radio start playing?” And she said, “yes, mommy. Me do dat ting.”

Me last week: “Argh! I have SO much I want to do.” Lann: “Me too, Mom. It IS kind of the primary feature of our family.” ;-D

: Shiny shoes, a bathing suit, a nursing baby doll, an Ergo, and a cat. What could be better?!

: A friend sent the boys California Pug t-shirts in support of their Operation Pug endeavor.

: That’s our Zander! Note small wild girl zooming by on the side wearing a bathing suit (she’s also carrying a thing of cream cheese to eat) and feet of Lann at stove where he is making me another tasty (50 cent) omelet for breakfast. 🙂 ♥

: Curly hair!

: This bathing suit is popular attire lately.

: Nursing outside at last month’s faculty conference.

: Delight at genuine pug experience at Baker Creek Seeds in March

: Skirts and mud puddles definitely mix!

And, video special: Alaina dancing in the car while we waited to get Lann from gymnastics.

Talk Books: What Dying People Want

Apr19

I’ve mentioned before that sometimes I use my blog as a way to store stuff that I want to remember or have easy access to later. I also use it as a means of collecting information all in one place, so that it is easy for me to search and reference again in the future, rather than having to flip through stacks of books. This leads me to a tendency to leave huge stacks of books piled by computer waiting for me to have time to transcribe all of the important stuff out of them. Often, I get fed up and re-shelve them, thinking why bother re-typing someone else’s ideas anyway, shouldn’t I just be having my own ideas?! Or, I think, guess what Molly, there is a way for this information to be stored…it is called a book and the information will still be there if you want to go back to it. But, today I thought that maybe there is a happy medium—maybe as soon as I finish a book, I should do a quick wrap-it-up blog post in which I do simply transcribe the things I want to remember, no pressure to add a bunch of new insights of my own, and if at such time I want to transform any of those quotes into a longer post in the future they’ll be tidily saved and waiting for me. AND, the book can then be re-shelved, or even given away, promptly after being “processed” in this manner, rather than waiting by my computer with a sort of guilt-provoking air of expectancy and rebuke.

(Amazon affiliate link included in image)

Unfortunately, the subject of my most recent read isn’t really a cheerful one to kick off this little experiment! However, I’m doing it anyway. The book is What Dying People Want by David Kuhl, MD. Many people have observed that end-of-life care bears similarities to birth-care (beginning-of-life care) and in fact the content of most the sections I marked to share could very readily have the word “birth” or “pregnant woman” substituted. Of course, with end-of-life care, there is not the happy anticipation of the joyful hope and promise of a new baby, but then, with birth-care there is not actually always a guarantee of that either and many women experience grief and loss from a variety of sources/experiences mingled throughout their childbearing years.

With regard to doctors communicating with patients in a dismissive, brusque, or too no-nonsense of a manner:

“…he had no intention of hurting her and seemed not to realize that he could have spared her much suffering if only he had spoken with compassion.”

Seriously. How true is this. How basic. And, how often overlooked.

And then, when talking about the doctor-patient relationship:

It is my sense that people visit physicians expecting to be heard, taken seriously, and understood. Martin Buber speaking of the essence of relationship in his book I and Thou. He states that an I-Thou relationships is one in which both people meet and experience one another in the context of their wholeness, their personhood. Only then do the two become equals with regard to dignity, integrity, and power…

…When the doctor regards the patient only as a disease [or baby container]…the relationship is at risk of becoming the I-It variety. That is also true if the patient regards the doctor only as a body of knowledge, disregarding the impact the doctor-patient relationship might have on the doctor. Hence, the relationship may be reduced from I-Thou, to I-It, or perhaps even to It-It. The relationship is at risk of becoming ‘a disease speaking to a body of knowledge, a body of knowledge speaking to a disease…

I use this in my classes too, explaining that relationship is our medium and without it we can be technically correct, but therapeutically impotent. I caution against falling into a pattern of speaking of people as “cases” or even worse, “the food stamp case” or “the brain tumor in room three” (real-life example from my first MSW internship in an oncology clinic).

I also marked this Emily Dickinson poem, The Mystery of Pain:

Pain—has an Element of Blank—

It cannot recollect

When it began—or if there were

A time when it was not—

It has no Future—but itself—

Its Infinite realms contain

Its Past—enlightened to perceive

New Periods—of Pain.

Dr. Kuhl also writes about the important of touch, something that birthworkers also know well, explaining:

As Bill Moyers writes, “Touch is deeply reassuring and nurturing. It’s the first way a mother and child connect with each other…what a mother is saying to her child with that touch is ‘Live…your life matters to me.'” Remen also describes how people with cancer [or who are having babies] often feel when they’re touched by health care providers. They say they feel as though they are merely ‘a piece of meat.’ She reports that one woman said, ‘Sometimes when I go for my chemotherapy, they touch me as if they don’t know anybody’s inside the body.’

The first part of this made me think about what my mom is doing for my grandma right now, only in the reverse order. Once upon a time, her mother connected to her with that touch…Live…your life matters to me…and now my mom returns this original patient, loving, nurturing touch, only it is saying, I’m here…your life has mattered to me…go with peace.

I’d marked a couple of other things about family relationships and sharing stories, etc., but the last quote I actually want to type out does actually touch on birth:

There are two important things to remember with regard to your childhood and your family of origin. First, each pregnancy changes the family in that it will either result in a miscarriage, which is a death, or a birth, which marks the addition of a new family member…Second, your memory is your story and your truth. Your family members will have experienced the same events differently and will likely have different memories. Your experience and understanding of events is legitimate; the same holds true for other family members.

I wrote my grandma a letter and mailed it at the beginning of this week, but I don’t know that it is going to make it to her in time. So, a couple of days ago, I took this picture of the kids and texted it to my mom to give to her:

You can do hard things, I’ve told my mom. And, she is. Really hard, sad things. You feel like you can’t do it, but you’re doing it.

It applies to my grandma too.

Blog Circle: Tender Mercies, Unexpected Gifts

Apr18

The Amethyst Network blog circle for April is on the subject of Tender Mercies:

Blessings, Magic, Tender Mercies, Grace, whatever you call it, there are these moments, times and experience of light in the darkness. Sometimes they are very small. Just a moment where you see a little bit of magic, or a blessing wrapped in the grief. Sometimes it is significant, like close friendships made with people you may never have had the chance to meet otherwise.

For our Blog Circle this month (April) please share your own experiences of grace, tender mercies, magic, blessings, or gifts that your miscarriage has given you. If you have not experienced a miscarriage, please feel free to participate. We all know someone who has miscarried and therefore have been touched by miscarriage in some way.

via April Blog Circle ~ Blessings, Magic, Tender Mercies, Grace… » The Amethyst Network.

As soon as this theme was picked, I knew what I wanted to write about. It was the experience of an unexpected gift from my little baby Noah. It was one of the only moments of “communication” I ever felt from him after his death-birth. I sort of expected or hoped to have some dreams or some other sorts of “metaphysical” sorts of experiences with him, but I didn’t have that, he was simply gone. I did, however, have this one little gift (originally posted about on August 11, 2010)…

This past weekend [August, 2010]…We went to visit my friend M whose baby recently died and was born at a similar gestation point to Noah. While we were there, she showed us the memory box she’d put together for her baby and then she brought out the folder she’d received from Angel Whispers (source of the birth certificate that I got for Noah and that I like so much). She held it out to me silently, and printed on the front was, “this folder was made possible by a donation in memory of sweet baby Noah Remer, November 7, 2009.” Oh. My. Goodness. How could it be that I made a donation to Angel Whispers back in May ([2010] for my due date), the check traveling all the way to Canada, and yet, this folder somehow finding its way back into my life and into the hands of my dear, grieving friend? It was an amazing feeling.

I sent a donation to cover three folders. I wonder who has received the other two? We came up with all kinds of possible reasons for this “coincidence,” but none of them were very logical (she lives in IL, I live in MO-–it isn’t like they saw our addresses and though, “ah ha! We’ll send this one!”) and we were left with the only option to be just to marvel at this simple little gift.

In more current tender mercies, Noah’s memorial tulip tree is about to bloom!

It is in a shaded area behind the house and thus is a little off-schedule from the rest of the trees like this in the area. My parents have a matching tree and theirs is fully blooming now:

Seeing these flowers each year is really meaningful to me and that’s why I used a photo of the flowers as the cover image on my miscarriage memoir. Thinking about this post made me dig around in my archived photos where I found some not-often-before-shared photos of the ritual my mom and friends had for me near my birthday (Noah’s due date), during which we planted said tulip tree. Under the tree I buried the embryo from my second miscarriage and also the hospital bracelet from my ER trip following Noah’s birth. At the time of these photos I was tentatively hoping I might possibly be pregnant again and, in fact, I was justatinybitpregnant with the future Alaina!

Placing the tree in a barely scratched out dip in the rocky soil!

My mom adds a scoop of dirt.

My doula!

I feel lucky to have a supportive mom who does things like this for me! 🙂

And, after I prepped and scheduled this post, I took this photo of the almost opening bloom…

And then, the day before it was scheduled to post…YAY! A full flower!

Not picked, just stabilized for photo op.

Healing Presence

Apr11

My extended family is in the middle of a stressful medical situation with my grandmother that is absorbing a lot of collective family energy lately. Such experiences always lend “perspective” to a variety of areas and I’ve felt a little blocked in the writing of blog posts because they feel frivolous or unnecessary or like they’re distracting me from where I could be spending my attention. I bought a short book for my Kindle yesterday called The Art of Being a Healing Presence, and finished reading it last night. I bought it specifically to help my mom who is going to visit my grandma and also hopefully to help me be there better for her (both my mom and grandma). It dovetails nicely with my current lesson at OSC, which is about speech and how we talk to others. So, for today’s post, I picked out some quotes from a book that I feel like fit well into any type of relationship requiring compassionate listening and attention, not solely end-of-life care, because these ideas could relate to listening to women talk about birth and motherhood as well.

Healing presence is everything life itself is: messy and mysterious, exasperating and exhilarating, wearying and wonderful. That’s what makes it so sacred.

(Kindle Locations 793-794)…

Yep. Sounds like giving birth and like birth listening too.

Healing presence is a spiritual practice or discipline as well…

(Amazon affiliate link included)

…Healing presence is essentially a spiritual discipline in itself. As you begin, you may think of healing presence primarily as something you do for someone else. Eventually, however, you’ll realize that healing presence has become an integral and significant part of your own spiritual development. As you choose to keep opening yourself to this discipline, even when it’s difficult, even when you feel yourself rebelling, you necessarily mature spiritually. As you repeatedly ask yourself, “How can I be a healing presence in this particular situation?”, you expand your horizons and you make new and fruitful connections with all dimensions of life, especially life’s sacred foundation. The more you are a healing presence in the midst of everyday events, the more you come to appreciate that the common ground on which you stand with another is pulsing with all that is divine. You realize that holiness is at work as you consciously and compassionately accompany others. Then sometimes when you least expect it, a sense of awe overwhelms you—awe, perhaps strong assurance, or waves of gratitude, or an immense sense of peace. You cannot make any of this happen. You can only welcome it as it unfolds, revealing itself and making its presence known. It is The Sacred. (Kindle Locations 821-830)

Also, from the very beginning of the book, I saved this little quote:

“In every person there is royalty. Address the royalty and royalty will respond.” –Scandinavian Proverb

The relates to the idea of seeing one another that I explored in a prior post:

I often remind students in my human services classes that all people have a basic need to be both seen and heard. This doesn’t mean agreeing with everything someone else says and does, it means being present and witnessing them as they follow their own paths.

In a newsletter recently, I read an article called “I See You” by Sue Scott, a communication skills instructor. She explains that in South Africa, native peoples greet each other with an expression that literally means, “I see you.” The response is then, “I am here.” She observes, “what a powerful and beautiful gift it is to recognize another individuals in this way: ‘I see you.’ Acknowledgement, recognition, and respect all require focus on the other person…the word respect comes from the Latin word ‘respecere’ meaning ‘to look at again and again…’I see you’…seems to me to be the ultimate in respect.” Sue goes on to explain that when we truly SEE another mother—”when we truly hear her concerns—then we affirm her ability to mother her baby in her own best way.”

A little more than two years ago, I received the precious gift of being seen when a mother that I had previously helped with many breastfeeding questions called to ask me another question. We had become friends over the course of time since she’d had her first baby and I was in the process of my second miscarriage when she called with a question about her own pregnancy. I told her about the miscarriage, but said I felt like I could still talk with her about her question. We ended up then talking for a time about miscarriage and about cesarean birth, because we discover numerous surprising connections between the feelings and experiences of an unexpected outcome to our dreams for our pregnancies. She then said, “You know in that movie Avatar how they say, ‘I see you’?” I said yes, and she said, “I just wanted to let you know that I see you, Molly.” These words were such a gift to me. It was beautiful to hear them and I cried. I felt so seen. It was just what I needed and I hadn’t even known it. I will never forget that simple and yet extremely potent gift of acknowledgement from another woman.

via I See You

In my classes, I always try to explain that not only do you see someone, but they see you seeing them, and if what you see is valuable and worthy, that is what they rise to. So, that is why I liked this “royalty” proverb from the book.

And, later in the book, this concept is addressed as well:

As people experience healing presence, they change. This shift may be subtle or dramatic. They’re likely to open more—to themselves, to others, to the world, to the amazing mystery of life itself. Sensing another’s belief in them, and seeing that belief reflect-ed in life around them, they can begin to develop in completely unexpected ways, and to move in directions they have not gone before. Or perhaps they will return to their original path, but with new spirit, new vision, new hope. As they encounter the inevitable pains and diminishments that life will present, they can begin to understand that such adversities can be experienced as more than adversities—they can be known as opportunities for growth, as avenues for moving toward wholeness. Your authenticity and the compassion in your presence will fan out generously around you, always returning to envelop you again and again. As you become less driven by your own concerns and less given to your own needs, and as you forsake your need to help, you’ll become a more mature and helpful companion. (Kindle Locations 841-849).