What I Love, Appreciate, and Admire about My Mama: Part 5.

81. She homeschooled me for several years so we could travel with my dad and because I wasn't surviving in school.
82. She created assignments that corresponded with my interests (/obsessions).
83. You could say she likes butter.
84. She has cleaned up my post-surgery vomit and eaten soup immediately afterward.
85. She held a newborn Oliver against my face when I was too weak and encumbered to hold him close. That was the first time I really got to smell him, and I could feel the chemicals in my brain going wild--a this is my baby moment.
86. She accepted the vital task of rubbing my lower back while I was in labor. It must have been exhausting.
87. She encourages me to give myself more grace than judgment.
88. The sound of her voice cracks open whatever i'm trying to deal with in silence. So I cry, which I probably need to do.
89. If I say I may need to go to the mental health ER, she acts fine with it, encouraging me to go on and do what is healthy for me right then or to find someone who can help me figure out what that is.
90. She lights up when she sees me. It's mostly for Oliver but not all.
91. When I was a preteen and teenager, I had extreme acne, and she took treating it seriously.
92. She always finds something to compliment or praise.
93. She tired ribbons around my wrists as bracelets when I wanted to play Snow White.
94. She let me dress up and pretend to be Cinderella when I cleaned the house.
95. We couldn't avoid a museum exhibit of taxidermy animals in imitations of their normal environments. Mom remembered that I'm terrified of that kind of display. She didn't tell me to get it together. She told me to hold onto James's stroller and close my eyes; she led me through. It's one of the best kindnesses anyone has ever shown me.
96. She never tried to ground me from reading or writing. I guess she knew I'd fall apart.
97. She can tell if I'm too nervous, too overwhelmed, or too scared.
98. She went dress shopping with me before I married Josh. She found the perfect earrings for me and the perfect tie for Josh.
99. She loves blow fish.
100. She is the bravest person I've ever known.

What I Love, Appreciate, and Admire about My Mama: Part 3.

41. She's highly observant.
42. She's always aware of my primary love language.
43. She's always been brilliant at balancing professionalism and sass in her clothes.
44. She introduced me to toast with butter and cinnamon sugar, often all I can eat when I'm sick.
45. When I first started teaching, she made sure I had clothes by lending or giving me some of hers, going with me to shop, and giving me essentials for Christmas (black blazer, black round-toe heels...).
46. She has great ambition that has morphed over time.
47. She wanted me even though she was very young.
48. She knows the names of most flowers.
49. She has fun with me at Ulta and Sephora. You could say we like makeup.
50. She acknowledges the presence of multiple or obvious problems by saying, "What feels heavy right now?"
51. She loves ballet.
52. She can dance. My brother and I jump in sometimes.
53. She has no trouble talking to anyone.
54. She went to Disney World with her cousin and brought back for me a pen full of pink crystals. Perfect.
55. I always bring this up, but she bought me a notebook when I was stuck without one on a business trip with my dad. I was maybe ten years old. I felt like I was drowning without a notebook. She saved me.
56. She appreciates fairies and mermaids.
57. Out of heartbreak, she made Pansy Cottage a sweet, lovely home for herself and James. I always felt lighter there.
58. She took care of Oliver, so Josh and I could disappear for a few days for the first time.
59. She takes her healthcare seriously.
60. She is physically strong.

What I Love, Appreciate, and Admire about My Mama: Part 2.

21. She calms me and helps me see problems and solutions more clearly when I'm too panicked or confused to figure out my next move.

22. She loves Sleeping Beauty. We need to watch it together.

23. She accepts me even when she doesn't understand me.

24. She has researched, read books, and gone to classes to better understand the illness I share with other close relatives.

25. She cleans so quickly and (seemingly) easily.

26. She cuts and dyes my hair. It always feels like a bonding experience, and it's free!

27. She seems to have a talent for everything she tries.

28. She draws beautifully. I'd like to see her draw more.

29. She appreciates paper dolls.

30. She loves Madame Alexander dolls.

31. Her clothes or accessories always have unique touches.

32. When I was a high school junior, she said, "Maybe you don't need to go to college. Maybe you need to try to get a [literary] agent." I didn't go in that direction then, but I felt so accepted and validated. She took my writing seriously.

33. She can usually answer medical questions.

34. She can tell when I'm in a mood swing or starting a panic attack, sometimes before I can tell what's wrong.

35. She knows when to say, "That's the illness talking," or "Your brain is lying to you." Somehow, when I'm in a really bad place, that doesn't even occur to me.

36. Several years ago now, she said, "Maybe going off the meds shouldn't be your goal." Such weight lifted! She accepted that I was ill (we didn't yet know how ill), and she was going to encourage me to seek treatment and maintain it. For me, it changed our relationship, and it changed my life.

37. All shoes look good on her.

38. When something difficult is happening, she comes here to help me.

39. She helped me to get Oliver into Pre-K and to get his autism diagnosis.

40. She picks up where I run out of words.

What I Love, Appreciate, and Admire about My Mama: Part 1.

1. She is courageous, facing fear and heartbreak with all her strength and faith.
2. She connects easily with children, whether or not she knows them.
3. She has beautiful handwriting. It's soothing in a card from her.
4. She has a wonderful facial expression when she's happily surprised.
5. She has shared with me so many childhood books and series, such as A is for Annabelle, A Wrinkle in Time, The Chronicles of Narnia, A Little Princess, The Secret Garden, The Borrowers, and more.
6. She simply has a great passion for reading, and she encouraged that in me, which of course completely changed my life.
7. She enjoy sci-fi and has shared shows and movies with me, sometimes past my bed time!
8. She homeschooled me for 7 years. She recognized that regular school was killing me, and she ignored the people who thought they knew better.
9. She signs her name beautifully.
10. She likes Patty Loveless.
11. If I ask, I know she will give me the hard truth.
12. I know her compliments and encouragement are genuine.
13. We laugh together so much.
14. She adopted rabbits!
15. She makes this incredible crab dip. Just thinking about it makes me salivate, and I rarely salivate on my meds.
16. She holds onto her childhood traditions like "Christmas Eve Gift" and tiny wrapped gifts in stockings.
17. She's an amazing cook.
18. She makes heavenly spaghetti.
19. She always has some diet soda for Josh when we visit.
20. We banded together during some of the worst times in our lives.

Nourish/Challenge: Week 36.

Oliver's birthday was last Wednesday. He's 8 years old! We didn't have much planned for the actual day; Josh was working late, and Oliver didn't seem to care much. But as we were driving home from OT, I turned in to Sonic.

Oliver: Want ice cream.
Me: We're going to get some.

So I ordered cherry Sprite, 2 plain hot dogs, and 2 mini Reeses Blasts. It was a pretty good birthday feast.

So on Saturday, we drove to the transportation museum in Spencer to see Thomas and all six grandparental units. We rode the train, checked out other vehicles, bought presents from the gift shop--difficult when your child doesn't play with toys much. Mom helped me find gifts for Oliver--a fleecy blanket, a red tee showing Thomas having different emotions, and a mug Oliver can drink his milk from. I found a copy of Goodnight, North Carolina, which Oliver loved until he shredded it. I bought it thinking we could try again...and keep the book out of reach when we're not reading it to Oliver. The day went by well.

I've been reading a little more, and I'm rebuilding that connection to words on a page. Bruce and I finished All Out, our 26th book. And we started a book of stories by Joe Hill, whom my brother, James, recommended to me. It's wild so far.

Bruce traded his car for a bit of an upgrade. It's lovely, and I look forward to my next ride to DPAC for Aladdin. 

On Tuesdays, I've been going to the school to take care of Oliver at 10 and having a meeting with the ABA supervisor at 11. I ended up with half an hour or so. One week, I went to Barnes and found a beautiful journal with a mama and a baby unicorn. I didn't even have to look to see that it came from my favorite journal publisher, Peter Pauper Press.

Another Tuesday, I went to Ulta. I didn't buy anything, but I covered my arms with glitters for about 20 minutes--a great way to use my time! Glitter always feels nourishing to me, wherever it is but especially when I wear it.

All about Oliver.

Tomorrow is Oliver's 8th birthday! Here is a little more about him.

• Favorite Toy: Probably Brr Brr even though he doesn't play with or cuddle the Beanie Baby English bulldog the way he used to. He likes to have Brr Brr on car trips.
• Favorite Color: Red. This has been consistent for years.
• Favorite Clothes: A red Super Grover T-shirt or gray pajama pants with tigers on them ("Tiger pants").
• Favorite Animal: Lion (also consistent for years).
• Favorite Foods: Pepperoni, dill pickles, Welch's fruit snacks, sausage, chicken fries, Doritos, taquitos, donuts!
• Favorite Drinks: Low-sugar grape Gatorade, whole milk
• Favorite Movie: He doesn't watch movies except the feature-length Thomas episodes like Misty Island Rescue.
• Favorite Song: "Uptown Funk" ("Up Down Funny Up") and "Let It Go."
• Best Friends: Probably Josh, Bruce, and Miss KS.
• Favorite Activities: Tearing paper, preferably magazines, and spreading the shreds all over the house. Changing locations and available foods as often as possible.
• Challenges: Communication and other autism-related issues.
• Talents: Preserving the face of a pretty girl in a magazine. Jumping. Dancing. Singing. Bonding with special adults. Being happy.

Nourish/Challenge: Week 33.

This past week, I did a little catching up on this blog. It seems silly sometimes. But I think more people read it than I realize. That's a nourishing thought.

I didn't read enough, but I did read a graphic novel by Neil Gaiman and Colleen Doran, a revision of "Snow White." The illustrations are lush and dark. I can't recommend the book as some (many?) would find it offensive, but I handed it to Josh, who read it immediately. I enjoyed the challenge of a genre I rarely read.

But what has consumed most of my thoughts is Oliver's stretches. I have to stretch  his tongue up and back several times a day, so the frenulum won't reattach. We saw Cynthia, who said it looks great--better than 99% of the follow-ups she sees. I cried. It's been so hard and miserable, but it's working. She told me to keep doing whatever I'm during. This has been a major challenge for me, and I'm not done yet.

The hurricane came near, and Oliver's school closed for two days. Two days I didn't have to pull him out of class for stretches! With Labor Day, it was a short week. Oliver started to relax a bit about the stretches. No screaming or struggling, little crying. It got a little easier though he still has a strong jaw and sharp little teeth. But I'm nervous about our second follow-up, which is with Dr. M (the surgeon) herself. What will she say? Will she look at me with disdain or with an unusual smile?

In any case, we've completed two weeks of stretches. I have Band-Aids on both index fingers. That baby can bite.

Whoa, I'm a Mother!

The evidence:

• One of the cupholders in my car holds a bottle of hand sanitizer and a pack of Wet Ones.
• One type of angel is someone who gives us a pack of Wet Ones when we're cleaning Oliver's vomit out of the car.
• Whenever I need to move something, I put it in a Pull-Ups box--it has handles!
• My glove box is stuffed with pretzels, Goldfish, and other snacks.
• I am on constant snack duty.
• Instead of a coffee table, I have a Thomas table.
• I find toys in my shoes.
• My stretch marks are like battle scars from 13 months of breastfeeding.
• I buy two jars of pickles every week and orange juice by the gallon.
• I know which fruit snacks are best (Welch's).
• Every time I turn off the lights, a sound puzzle rumbles or barks.
• I hide my books under blankets to avoid destruction.
• I spend perhaps 1/3 of my grocery money on foods my child *might* eat.
• I get excited about receiving Kleenex wipes in a surprise box.
• Half of my little purse holds a change of clothes for Oliver.

Restoration: Week 5.

This past week, I've found small ways to practice restoration (Practice is one of my favorite words). I finished another book, so I'm up-to-date with my reading goal. With practice, I've been restoring my joy, ease, and identity as a reader.

I've been restoring and satisfying my curiosity. I've been reading about hygge and capsule wardrobes, topics that spark my interest.

I've been working on restoring my childhood interest by reading a collection of American Girl stories. I have such happy memories of reading those stories.

I'm restoring and enhancing my love of musical theatre almost every month by attending a show. This past weekend, Bruce and I saw Les Miserables. I'd seen it once before, about 20 years ago. It's another way to stay in touch with my childhood joys. I listened and sang to those songs so much.

Oliver has let me dance and cuddle with him, so we're restoring our connection. Before Les Mis began, Bruce and I looked at newborn Oliver pictures. It's good to remind myself that Oliver is still that sweet baby.

It was a good week for restoration!

Restoration: Week 1.

This past week, I've moved toward restoration. Bruce asked me how I was honoring restoration; I like that wording.

• Faith. I read the first week of The Daily Bible, working toward restoring and building up my faith. I'd forgotten how rough early Genesis was. Josh is reading it too, so many that will help restore and refresh our relationship.
• Marriage. Josh and I also worked on restoring our relationship by working on his schedule and finding some time alone for us on Friday mornings. We had Tuesday mornings last semester, and we often napped together, but that restored us too.
• Reading. I didn't finish a book yet, and I need to finish a book each week to reach my annual goal of 50 books. But I read from several books, keeping up pretty well with the Bible and poetry. I've been checking my shelves for children's books since that's my focus for winter. One evening, I sat still and read for over an hour. I've been getting into the flow with it, perhaps for the first time in months.
• Sleep. I know sleep does heal the body and the brain, so I'm trying to make sure I sleep enough.
• Motherhood. I had Oliver at home much more than I expected because of snow and ice. He allowed and even sought a lot of cuddling. That gives me a rush of motherly love. I need to tune into that more; it's a reset button.
• Musical theatre. Bruce and I saw On Your Feet in Durham. It energized me, and I've been singing Gloria Estefan songs every since. At the theatre, I feel closer to my real self.

Pink Sidewalks.

Spring has been sprinkling its pastel glimmers everywhere. Not long ago, I began seeing trees dressed in frilly white blossoms or dripping with wisteria earrings as I drove home from work. My apartment complex's sidewalks and parking spaces were pale pink with fallen petals. All this made me want to believe in fairies and to see and embrace the woodland elves who live with me.

The wisteria is fading to gray now, but the willow beside our balcony is in leaf, and the grass by the pond is bright green. We sat on the balcony today. Oliver was warm enough in his diaper as he sat in his bouncer, and I fed him squash and peas (he'd had the tastier foods--bananas and oatmeal and rice cereal and sweet potatoes--earlier in the day). Josh brought the expensive, spicy candle out onto the mosaic bistro table, and the scent rode the breeze. I wrote in red glitter in my red and silver journal. Oliver watched me, rapt, and I let him hold the pen. Before he tried to eat it, he scribbled a little. I marked the scribbles as his first drawing. Josh sees a sailboat, waves, and a mountain. I can see them too. I wonder what summits Oliver will sail toward.

I've been wearing jean capris from Target (Fit 4 is perfect for curvy hips and small waists) or a strawberry pink cotton dress from Old Navy and Big Buddha canvas flats covered with silver glitter. I ordered rose pink dress pants from The Limited; I'll enjoy those once I find someone to hem them.

At work, I've been wearing cropped pants, polka dot tops (black on white, white on black, white on navy, raspberry on white), shimmery neutrals from Stila's In the Light eyeshadow palette (my first Stila! I bought one for myself when I bought one for my mom for her birthday), and summery button-down blouses I bought for absurdly little (BOGOFF and teacher discount!) at New York and Company. The Limited has also granted two wishes: more green (a beautiful gemstone green short-sleeved top) and more polka dots + a grown-up rain coat (black trench with white polka dots--also reversible to solid black--50% off!). I'm pondering heels in dove gray, dark pink, teal, and pale sea green, and I'm wondering if I have the courage to wear dress pants in aqua, salmon, or indigo. Since this color block trend is so major, and though I don't like the crazy mixes of electric blue with tropical yellow (for instance), this does seem like a good time to store up color (and polka dots). 

Work has been madness, particularly since a lone student editor (who, fortunately, is fantastic) and I have been creating a new literary magazine for the school. But Josh now keeps my peanut butter fudge cookies (faux Tagalongs) in the freezer, and they're crisp like Magic Shell. We've been watching Downton Abbey, Once Upon a Time, and Flight of the Conchords. I've been reading in earnest again, often dovouring a book each week. I've recently read What Alice Forgot (wonderful! It felt original, kept me fascinated without wearing me out, and made me ponder relationships and choices) and The End of Everything (brilliant writing, like a prose poem, but extremely unsettling not only in plot but also in the startling clarity with which the author remembers the experience of being a thirteen-year-old girl--not something I was prepared to remember). I went to a visiting writer presentation at school this week, and though it was interesting, my attention kept wandering to the fiction shelf beside which I had, foolishly, sat. I kept touching books, pulling them out, and studying their jackets. I love finding books I had no intention of finding. I checked out Forever by Pete Hamill.

Josh tirelessly prepares my lunches, sets on the round black table everything I need for each day, lets me sleep for an extra hour on Saturdays, rubs my back, and tells me I'm lovely. This quotation of Burnett's from The Secret Garden reminded me of him today: "Mary could scarcely bear to leave him. Suddenly it seemed as if he might be a sort of wood fairy who might be gone when she came into the garden again. He seemed too good to be true." He is my Dickon and my key-pecking robin. What a sour, unhappy, ill, and unpleasant Mary I was before he appeared.

Oliver could have been a Colin, but he isn't. I hope, though, that he will discover and love magic. He is another sort of Dickon, a small one who laughs at and reaches for cats, touches our faces and sings, and longs to run.

Oliver gives kisses with wild generosity now. He gazes at me with intoxicated wonder, reaches out, holds my face with both hands, leans forward with an open mouth, and plants his kiss on my check, chin, or nose. It is the brightest enchantment I've ever encountered, and it sends me out in the world with a trail of fairy dust. Everywhere I walk should be a carpet of pink and shimmer; I just have to remember to see it.

A Page from My Journal: March 5, 2012

Everything is so lovely. I don't even care that I have to go to the doctor and grade papers later. I have the most perfect little family, and I'm glad glad glad.

All that other stuff--the scary birth, my depression, the terrible messes--don't even matter. It's not that they'll never matter, but they don't right now.

Josh and Oliver are asleep on either side of me. The sky is light blue, and some clouds are floating by the window. The tall trees behind the apartment building across the pond are swaying a little. I have lace and a bow. I have a pink tube of C.O. Bigelow cinnamint lip gloss within reach for my chapped lips. I'm reading the sweetest novella in The Firefly Dance--a little girl trying to be happy, an enchanted and cultured young dance instructor, a mama with PPD who starts baking again, magic tea...I've marked so many pages from which I want to record passages.

I want our boy to be sophisticated and loving. I want him to know about books, poetry, music, movies, and musicals because they've surrounded him. I want him to be able to show new joys to his friends, cousins, girlfriends, wife. I want him to know what can make him feel calm and glad. I want to always snuggle him. I want him to see me as a person--flawed, needy, and sometimes sad, but I want him to see me as a source of love for him always. I want to never forget or dismiss him. I want to remember how very precious and beautiful he is. Everyone needs someone to do that.

Suddenly, the sky in the window is almost full of clouds. I still see the sun though. I'm getting hungry. We have thin crust pizza and garlic bread sticks in the fridge. This morning, Oliver stopped nursing suddenly, and a sputtering stream of milk covered his belly and mine. I laughed and called for Josh to look. I feel confident that I can feed my baby enough.

Polka dots seem to be in fashion, which is wonderful for me since I love them. I've ordered two tank tops from Gap--white with black dots and pink with black dots. I hope I'll be able to wear them for fun and under cardigans to work, at least in the summer.

When summer comes, I'll be home with my family six days a week. I will make those sweet and happy days. We are all so very lucky.

What I've Learned as a New Mother (About Nursing).

*Nursing bras matter. I started with a regular bra, and pulling my arm out of one strap worked okay. But a regular bra also isn't very comfortable, and since I need nursing pads, I need to wear a bra all the time. I now have a sleep bra to wear at home and an underwire bra that I hope will be good for work and other outings. Note from later: the underwire doesn't get much mileage.

*Nursing bras don't have to cost much. I like my two $9 ones from Wal-mart, and I may buy extras to wear while those are drying from hand-washing. If they wear out, or I need more, it's no big deal. Note from later: Um, yeah. I have six or seven of these now. Even my patient, Woolite-brandishing husband can barely keep up with the rate of spit-up and leakage. 

*Nursing pads aren't all the same. I went straight for Medela since I have an M pump, but I like Lansinoh better. They are softer, and they have two sticky parts instead of one, so they don't just fall right out of the nursing bra.

*A double electric pump is worthwhile. My mom bought me the Medela Pump In Style. I'm so glad I specifically asked her for this big-ticket item. It's a contraption, and the first round was very painful and ineffective. But after a few tries, I was able to fill two 2.5-ounce tubes (one on each side) in under ten minutes. Note from later: ha! This dream didn't last. I'm not sure what magic I was using to make my milk come out that fast.

*The bustier for the pump isn't just awesome; it's essential. I tried once to pump while just holding the shields, and keeping a good seal was not working out for me. The bustier does that for me, and I don't have to hold anything. The whole mess is awkward enough as it is.

*Get the right shield size! My friend Melissa helped me figure this out. The pumping started to be more uncomfortable and didn't seem to working as well. I noticed serious suction rings, too. All this got better when I got bigger shields, which Medela sells (and I didn't really need to get bigger connectors). Note from later: And just make peace with the fact that you might have to get bigger ones again. And again.

*Lanolin isn't miraculous, but it is nice. It's a little soothing, but it mostly provides some lubrication. This seems to help especially with pumping. Note from later: meh. Hope for the placebo effect. But it does help prevent a true horror--scabs sticking to the nursing pad. I know.

*Engorgement isn't forever. On the fifth day, the day I left the hospital, I had boulders up to my collarbone. Ow. I thought, great, this is the next (hopefully) year or more of my life. I was back to relative normal after a few days, though, and milder engorgement only happens occasionally.

*The football hold and the going to the revival may be essential. Early on, Oliver could barely nurse because he would fall fast asleep almost as soon as I held him close. Mom helped me figure out the football hold (which is less snuggly), and what I call going to the revival, which is holding him flat and lifting him up and down. Yes, he startled a little, but he woke up long enough to get some sustenance. Note from later: This got better once he was a little bigger and more used to being with me.

*Nursing pain from hell isn't forever. We had a few good weeks. Then, suddenly, the first moments of nursing became excruciating. As my grandmother described it, it was like razor blades. I could barely keep myself from yelling or making sudden movements. Sometimes, I cried during or even in anticipation of nursing. Josh was mortified, and I felt terrified (more pain? regularly??) and inadequate. We considered exclusive pumping. I would exclusively pump for twelve hours or so. Then, I'd feed Oliver a little milk from a bottle before nursing him so that he would be less hungry and vigorous. Finally, I'd get back to nursing. I did this cycle two or three times. I bought a nipple shield, which helped somewhat. I had blisters, cracks, bleeding, and oozing. Yep. It was horrific. But then, just as suddenly as it appeared, the nursing pain from hell was gone. I'm glad I didn't give up (I was close!). For some women, it doesn't get better. But one to two weeks seems typical (from what I've read and the women I've talked to). It's awful, but it's not forever. Mothers dealing with it shouldn't feel bad about pumping or doing whatever they need to do to survive it. Note from later: it still hurts sometimes, but not like that.

*Pumping is hard. I expected to fill bottles like it ain't no thang. This has never happened (okay, maybe it's happened a couple of times). The first time I tried to pump, I painfully eeked out about an ounce in over half an hour. This still happens to me. Occasionally, if I've been at work for hours, I'll get eight or nine ounces. But I pump four times a day to get enough milk for Oliver to have while I'm at work, and even that's a stretch. That's with the best available pump and all the breast compression and yadayada I can muster. My body knows that yippy thing isn't my baby. And if I take a break from pumping, my body seems to have no interest whatsoever in cooperating. It's like a part-time job. Pumping plus nursing is probably a full-time job. I think it's worth it, but it's a B word. Note from later: I have good times and awful times. I try not to count too much on either.

Mothers: David's.

Josh had the idea that we should write about the fictional mothers and fathers we'd like to emulate. I can't think of many or much detail for mine, in part because many of the books I've loved are about orphans, or the mothers are beautiful, tragic creatures who die young and early in the story.

One of these tragic mothers is in The Book of Lost Things, which I still haven't made much progress in (due to my own distress and fatigue rather than any flaw in the book). David sees her as a figure both familiar and mysterious, tangible and mythical. 

"He sat up late into the night, squashed into a corner of the living room while grown-ups exchanged stories of a mother he had never known, a strange creature with a history entirely separate from his own...a beautiful woman in a bright red dress who was stolen from under the nose of another man by David's father... (Connolly 5-6).

I want Oliver to see both my best self, and when he is ready and wants to, my flaws, history, and humanness. I don't plan to keep secrets. I don't want him to suddenly find out something that makes him doubt himself, his origins, or his safety. I do, however, want him to see I am not only my roles, just as he will not only be his.

"...he would step often quietly into the room in which his mother was reading, acknowledging her with a smile (always returned) before taking a seat close by and immersing himself in his own book so that, although both were lost in their own individual worlds, they shared the same space and time." (Connolly 4).

This is one of my most important aims: to model a love of books, reading, paper. I want to provide books for him and show him, rather than tell him, how fascinating and vital stories are, whether we find them or make them.

"He thought of his mother's voice...as a symphony, capable of infinite variations on familiar themes and melodies that changed according to her moods and whims" (Connolly 4).

When I first spoke to Oliver face to face, I knew he knew me. Now when I speak or sing, he doesn't usually look toward me immediately. He continues looking at the leaf pattern on his bed or the shadows on the wardrobe, but he changes--a calm or hint of delight tickles his face. I want that to remain true: though my voice will not always capture his attention, I want it to be a source of comfort, something that makes him feel safe and loved as he becomes himself.



Connolly, John. The Book of Lost Things. New York: Washington Square Press, 2006. 4-6. Print.

Oliver Everywhere.

My son is one week old today, and I see him everywhere. As my swelling goes down, and my hands, feet, legs, and face again become familiar; as my belly's curve begins dropping; and as actions such as bending down, lying on my stomach or back, and cuddling close to my husband again become possible; I become even more connected to Oliver than before. I see him in these thinning hands and feet (so like his); my wide, tired, slow-moving eyes; facial expressions of some of our visitors (is it my love-focused mind or actual evidence of genes?); and even in random objects. Everything is like him ("You looked like Oliver just then!") regardless of how long he, she, or it existed before him.

When he sighs, swallows, or struggles to clear his throat, I startle awake. When he cries his little bleating cry (so rare unless he's cold), I leak this mysterious, frothy substance my body has discovered how to make. I am more his than he is mine. Today, I asked his daddy to find Oliver's first hat...pink and blue stripes...he ever wore, the one the nurse showed me while I was in labor, the one he was wearing when I was finally able to reach for him eight hours after his birth. The hat is so delicate; I hope I can balance seeing him in it and preserving it forever. I am still myself, but oh, I am more.

This Little Foot.

This is Josh's hand and the current size (at 34 weeks) of Oliver's foot. It's so tiny, and yet I can't believe that such a foot...let alone two such feet and a whole self to go with them...resides in my belly. This little foot that Josh could grasp in his palm (and eventually will) is tickling my ribs. It's shifting around for a more comfortable spot. It's so much chubbier than it was even a few weeks ago, and it will get chubbier still. I can't fully imagine the thrill of unwrapping the swaddles to look at these feet for the first time. I'll wrap them up again quickly, so they don't get cold, and then I'll be lifting a little cap to examine hair and the swirl of tiny elfin ears. I'll get to do all of this so soon.

For His Jouney.

 (Image: http://nowheresafefromthestorm.tumblr.com/page/3)

In my last journal, I started a list of qualities or traits I want to help Oliver develop...little wonder-tools to carry with him, the kinds of items a fairy godmother might give a child to sustain him through a long journey. I wrote down several items and then asked Josh to add more. I'm thinking about putting the list up somewhere so that we can always remember what we want to give him or help him find.

*Self-worth
*Responsibility
*Bubbling joy
*Curiosity
*Fascination with books
*Body confidence
*Wonder
*Hope
*Basic, daily life skills
*Courage
*Empowerment
*Sense of opporutnity
*Internal locus of control

~Compassion
~Safety of mind
~Reason
~Intellectual honesty
~Aspects of human endeavor
~Creativity
~A sense of duty to his fellow man
~An open interest
~Humility
~Peace
~A sense of being connected to all things, distant or near

If only, like Tumnus with his packages for tea or Father Christmas with his strange presents, we could hand these to him or pack them in a basket with cinnamon biscuits and apples before we have to send him out into any bit of the world.

 (Image: http://bring-on-the-dancing-lobsters.tumblr.com/)