Dried Flower Memories

Being a parent immerses you into some deep places sometimes. Not necessarily dark, but deep.

I saw some pictures of myself when I was 11 and 12 this week and it makes me realize I vividly remember some VERY old memories. I remember looking that way.
In one of the photos, I proudly hold up my Furby (ca. 1999) and my mom crochets in the background. She and I were both 14 years younger... such a long time. In the photo she is only 10 years older than I am right now.

I don't know if it's because we look so similar or because now I am a mother myself, but I see more of myself in my mother in that photo of her than in that photo of me. It's not that I don't remember being 11, because I DO; I remember the braces, the perm, the everything.
I just see the reflection of myself within my mother so much more than I see myself in the "me" that I have grown from. I'm really glad this photo is still around.

I once thought keeping things makes them inherently special, but it's not the keeping that makes a thing worth something more than it was the day it was more familiar. It's the fact that one day when we reflect upon a memento, we will be more wise and more able to fully appreciate the memories we made with the kept object. It's like looking at a favorite painting or listening to a favorite song throughout your life. The painting or song changes with you because the more life you experience the more your perspective changes. It can make you appreciate things you never stopped to appreciate before. It's wonderful.

It reminds me of pressing and drying flowers. Our lives are so short yet so beautiful that sometimes we have to look back and graze the petals to remember how beautiful things are and have continued to be, even when we have moved on.

Break over!

Quietly, I took a break last month from blogging. I didn't mean to and I didn't announce it nor did I plan it. I wrote a couple posts before I stopped in October and I realized they kind of stained the vibe of the blog like ink water spots on crisp white paper.
I took a step back, realized that yes, I was going through a bit of postpartum depression, and that forcing myself to blog was making me over-analyze my feelings. So I stopped writing, continued living, and worked on letting myself feel what I felt and then moving on (all the while knowing better than the chemical imbalance in my brain) and now it's over. I feel good again. Happy for no reason, even!

It ceased last month right before our beloved ferret, Noni, passed away. She was always the symbol of my emotional duplicity in my dreams. Usually she would help me work through the process of unifying myself between the channels of heart and mind; sometimes she would show me that I was tearing myself apart and that although I was fine for the moment, I could not truly live that way. She reminded both Shawn and I of a weasel, or a little otter.
The night after she died I dreamed that I was sitting on a bench in front of a fountain. In the middle of the fountain there was a bit of land with a large tree. An otter was standing under the tree and I looked to her. She dove into the water and came out on the other side in front of me and I stood up from the bench. She held out her paw: she had a snail with the brightest white shell I had ever seen. She ate the snail and handed me the shell.
It was as if I understood her, and she understood me.

I knew Noni was finally at peace. I knew she was OK wherever she was now and that I would be OK, too. I must remember my true self, who I am, and continue navigating life at my own pace.

The Fear

Mama Kitty is not a suitable babysitter...

I have spent a large portion of my life trying to validate my own feelings. I read dozens of psychology and medical journals and articles every week as though it were mandatory to research before feeling the way you feel about things in public. It's almost like training for a fight that might happen... it's just a verbal fight I prepare for.
This has become very apparent to me since becoming Bernice's mother.

I researched everything about having a baby and then everything about parenting so that I could do the best job possible and know that in my heart I am doing what is best for her and our family. So far that is working out great and she is a happy and healthy little peanut. I have loads of articles and journal pages under my belt to back up the choices we have made and how those fit into our family, but there is nothing I could read that would make me leave my baby before I am ready.

And that's just the way I feel.

Call it attachment parenting, Postpartum Depression, or plain old selfishness but I don't care: I am not ready to leave my baby. And that is that.

Reasons (that I collectively call "The Fear")I have scrounged for in order to validate myself feeling this way include: someone feeding her something other than milk (and/or her having an allergic reaction to that food/formula), her having to take a bottle when we are exclusively breastfeeding, something happening to her while we are away and not being told about it, a robbery happening somewhere she is staying, blah blah BLAH.
In any case, I have my reasons (which are mostly worst-case scenarios worked out in my head when I think about leaving her). I chalk this up to simply not being ready to leave her for any amount of time just yet. She is only going to be a baby for so long, if I want to "hog" her I will. I worked hard, puked hard, and pushed hard to grow and birth her and I'll do what I feel ready to do when I am ready to do it. No one has a "right" to her. She is a privilege to have as a child and anyone who is entrusted to take care of her for the first time when we are ready to have a night out alone will understand that.
And besides, I'd love for Shawn to be the one she is left with if I must leave her so that he can have some one-on-one time with her. He is her father and that is important to establish.

But for now I am not ready to leave Bernice with anyone (except Shawn) for any amount of time.
It's just how I feel.

The Kittens are 4!!!

I can't believe it's been a year since I posted Mama Kitty's birth story (http://daisytosunflower.blogspot.com/2012/09/our-kitty-babies-are-3.html). We're celebrating the kittens' birthday on Friday with a can of tuna and some extra hugs. Happy birthday Ava and. Lucy!

Love and Comfort II

What seems like a long time ago, I wrote about the fuzzy feeling you get when you fall in love and what happens to it after a while: it turns into comfort based on trust for your partner.
That trust has sustained Shawn and I through many years (6 years next month) and through my very puke-y pregnancy with Bernice. Now that she is here, I find myself uncomfortable in a vague sort of way. Like I felt long ago when my body first started to change in 6th grade.

I'm too hard on myself once again. Even though I am doing my best to get some kind of familiar shape back I know my body will never be the same. Even though I fit in a lot of my pants again I have the loose mommy-tummy skin from being stretched to the stretch-mark point for almost a year. I don't know what I expected before I had Bernice and I don't know what I expect of myself now but whatever it is, I'm not meeting my own subconscious expectations.

It makes being anything but cuddly with Shawn kind of difficult. No matter how much he reassures me that he thinks I am beautiful, I just don't feel that way about myself. In my mind he deserves a woman that looks much better than I do with no clothes on. He doesn't know I feel this way precisely... although he will after he reads it today. I know he can probably guess that something is wrong from the lack of eye contact and vehemence, and that something is Me.

I'm uncomfortable with myself right now, whether I "look good" or whether everyone including my pre-pregnancy sized pants are lying to me (which is doubtful). That is what I must focus on changing. Not my waistline, not the way I dress, not my hair. ME. I want to be comfortable with myself again so that I can be a good body-image role model to Bernice and a good, happy wife to my husband.

At least it's good to know after thinking about this that the only thing that has changed the feeling of comfort in our relationship is Me. And I have the power to fix it. Now to find the strength...