It's been a long time since I've written here - or, since I've written at all. Something happened two years ago when I found out I was pregnant with my third child (the one I never thought we'd have. A gift! A surprise! Everything!). It seemed all my creative energy went into growing the new life inside me and all other creative endeavors evaporated. I felt better when I read one of my fave nonfiction works of Madeleine L'Engle's (The summer of the Great Grandmother):
". . .my creative energy is being drained. . . .a woman cannot be creative in two ways simultaneously, and that I would not be able to write while I was carrying the baby."
We welcomed baby Ole, and then all other creative endeavors resided in my mind because: all energy was given to nursing and my school age kids and watching Poldark (because the kids went to school and what else could be better than sitting on the couch with a nursing infant?). How could I write when other people wrote such cinematic brilliance for me to enjoy postpartum?!
Now the baby is a "Taby" (toddler -baby. The variety who screams when happy, screams when sad, screams when his dad leaves the room, screams when he can't have the ipad during FaceTime calls. We adore him in all ways). It is May 2020, and a regular prayer from my 7 year old son is "Lord please help everyone who has COVID." My 10 year old daughter is making banana bread for a teacher who might have COVID. My kids don't ask if we can go anywhere, they know they won't be going back to school, they expect to eat pizza 3 times a week and 8 snacks a day. We've been mostly home for 7 weeks, long enough to be comfy in our new normal and now looking back and looking around and looking ahead I can't help but think . . .
I feel like I had another baby, and it seems like everyone around the world has been thrown into the intensity-of-infancy stage - I'm calling this the "COVID Baby". And while this reflection doesn't translate to everyone (I write this from a place of privilege, I am safe and healthy and in a warm home with nourishment and living with people I both like and love. This season is traumatic and devastating for many and I want to honor that - so please, know my heart is pure and my reflections are observations).
I remember with each of my children, after their birth was a sweet time of slowness. We were in touch with more family and friends. People brought us meals, we got take-out, we said "no" to almost everything because . . . we needed to. We were tired, we were healing, we were learning. No one can prepare you for birth or infancy, you crash-course-trial-and-error as you go and in your own way. You make your own mistakes, you have your own victories. I remember with each child, when they turned 3 months old (that magical "maternity leave" number) it felt like all of a sudden the time of rest and no was over, and each time I didn't feel quite ready to let go of our new ways - of Trevor doing the laundry, of togetherness, of no-if-we-need-to, of being in our home and taking each day as it came. I felt nervous to re-enter obligations and expectations (self imposed though they might have been).
I feel that now, as things "open up", what can we do to hold onto the slow and meaningful parts of this season? Will Trevor still be able to take our 16 month old in the baby-backpack for pre-dinner walks (oh bless that time of dinner prep without the baby at foot). Will we be able to take each day as it comes, give ourselves grace, not run endless errands?
I'm looking back on the past 2 months, and much like how I look back on my children's first few months of life, I quickly forget the pain of birth and the sleepless nights and the unknowns of each day and I remember instead the smell of their skin, the way they cradled into my arms, the way we just slept and nursed and received love from so many as they helped us adjust. And now already, the memories of the firehose of news, the anxiety, the noise, the grief, the craziness of starting school at home, all the rapid adjustments everyone was asked to make, those memories feel more distant than: the choreographed dance shows my 10 and 7 year old have had time to make, watching my son learn to read and figure out story problems, all of us here to cheer on the Taby as he learns to walk and talk, my husband taking over dinner a couple times a week (if you know him, you know this is a big deal).
Much like with our infants, we've been pushed to new limits and we have changed and adapted and discovered depths of fatigue and needing to ask for more help from my fam (me), delights of working from home (husband) and watched our children not miss the run-around. What will last?
And in reverse, a few more infant parallels - have you felt these?
- the days are on a 24/7 loop
- so.very.tired.
- everyone has to eat all the time, it's like nursing infants. All.the.snacks.
- so much pizza and taco bell, who wants to cook?
- baths seem necessary
- ups and downs, all day long
- Crying also seems necessary, both from sadness and joy
- I'm home all day, why can't I get anything done?
- why does it feel harder to read a book? (why is it so easy to watch TV?)
- all the comparing! ("That person has a baby and they're sending cards and delivering meals. Should I be?!"). No one has YOUR baby, and yet we're insecure watching others in this new infant season, what are they doing, how are they coping?
- loss of identity in the midst of new normals
- a new level of realizing we are out of control (as if we ever had any)
- figuring out marriage is a thing, in the midst of this new thing
- the constant thinking about the baby, never leaves your mind (sometimes the thoughts are irrational and/or rational fears about your baby)
- that feeling of "if I just knew when the baby would start sleeping through the night, I could manage this better" (if we knew when things were going to "end", we think we'd be able to endure the present)
Again, this doesn't translate to everyone, we have family who quickly moved across the country with their infant daughter. Their literal infant season has been its own journey, not to mention their COVID experience. Everyone has their story, this is mine.
And yes, while the good memories rise to the top, I also look back on infancy and I shudder a bit at some of the memories and can’t believe we did it - birth, sleepless nights, the fog that seemed to never lift. I have glimmers of this already with this crazy season.
How about this one - I hear many parents say, and have said often myself, "What was life like before kids?" Already we're pausing here to remember "What was life like before COVID?"Already my husband and I could hardly recall how we did laundry before all this (yes, truly).
The baby is growing up, we’re going to have less control and our different ways of parenting are going to cause unity and division both (what, you don’t care about your baby’s nap/sleep schedule? I do!).
What are the gifts and trials in this season for everyone? I hope the gifts will continue, I hope we keep learning from the struggles. I hope for hope.
Madeleine L'Engle said it well, "This is part of being human, this knowing that we are all part of one another, inextricably involved; and at the same time, alone, irrevocably alone." How true, your experience in this is your own, your reality and any feelings are valid. How I'd love to hear your ponderings, in hopes of being more together than we are apart.
". . .my creative energy is being drained. . . .a woman cannot be creative in two ways simultaneously, and that I would not be able to write while I was carrying the baby."
We welcomed baby Ole, and then all other creative endeavors resided in my mind because: all energy was given to nursing and my school age kids and watching Poldark (because the kids went to school and what else could be better than sitting on the couch with a nursing infant?). How could I write when other people wrote such cinematic brilliance for me to enjoy postpartum?!
Now the baby is a "Taby" (toddler -baby. The variety who screams when happy, screams when sad, screams when his dad leaves the room, screams when he can't have the ipad during FaceTime calls. We adore him in all ways). It is May 2020, and a regular prayer from my 7 year old son is "Lord please help everyone who has COVID." My 10 year old daughter is making banana bread for a teacher who might have COVID. My kids don't ask if we can go anywhere, they know they won't be going back to school, they expect to eat pizza 3 times a week and 8 snacks a day. We've been mostly home for 7 weeks, long enough to be comfy in our new normal and now looking back and looking around and looking ahead I can't help but think . . .
I feel like I had another baby, and it seems like everyone around the world has been thrown into the intensity-of-infancy stage - I'm calling this the "COVID Baby". And while this reflection doesn't translate to everyone (I write this from a place of privilege, I am safe and healthy and in a warm home with nourishment and living with people I both like and love. This season is traumatic and devastating for many and I want to honor that - so please, know my heart is pure and my reflections are observations).
I remember with each of my children, after their birth was a sweet time of slowness. We were in touch with more family and friends. People brought us meals, we got take-out, we said "no" to almost everything because . . . we needed to. We were tired, we were healing, we were learning. No one can prepare you for birth or infancy, you crash-course-trial-and-error as you go and in your own way. You make your own mistakes, you have your own victories. I remember with each child, when they turned 3 months old (that magical "maternity leave" number) it felt like all of a sudden the time of rest and no was over, and each time I didn't feel quite ready to let go of our new ways - of Trevor doing the laundry, of togetherness, of no-if-we-need-to, of being in our home and taking each day as it came. I felt nervous to re-enter obligations and expectations (self imposed though they might have been).
I feel that now, as things "open up", what can we do to hold onto the slow and meaningful parts of this season? Will Trevor still be able to take our 16 month old in the baby-backpack for pre-dinner walks (oh bless that time of dinner prep without the baby at foot). Will we be able to take each day as it comes, give ourselves grace, not run endless errands?
I'm looking back on the past 2 months, and much like how I look back on my children's first few months of life, I quickly forget the pain of birth and the sleepless nights and the unknowns of each day and I remember instead the smell of their skin, the way they cradled into my arms, the way we just slept and nursed and received love from so many as they helped us adjust. And now already, the memories of the firehose of news, the anxiety, the noise, the grief, the craziness of starting school at home, all the rapid adjustments everyone was asked to make, those memories feel more distant than: the choreographed dance shows my 10 and 7 year old have had time to make, watching my son learn to read and figure out story problems, all of us here to cheer on the Taby as he learns to walk and talk, my husband taking over dinner a couple times a week (if you know him, you know this is a big deal).
Much like with our infants, we've been pushed to new limits and we have changed and adapted and discovered depths of fatigue and needing to ask for more help from my fam (me), delights of working from home (husband) and watched our children not miss the run-around. What will last?
And in reverse, a few more infant parallels - have you felt these?
- the days are on a 24/7 loop
- so.very.tired.
- everyone has to eat all the time, it's like nursing infants. All.the.snacks.
- so much pizza and taco bell, who wants to cook?
- baths seem necessary
- ups and downs, all day long
- Crying also seems necessary, both from sadness and joy
- I'm home all day, why can't I get anything done?
- why does it feel harder to read a book? (why is it so easy to watch TV?)
- all the comparing! ("That person has a baby and they're sending cards and delivering meals. Should I be?!"). No one has YOUR baby, and yet we're insecure watching others in this new infant season, what are they doing, how are they coping?
- loss of identity in the midst of new normals
- a new level of realizing we are out of control (as if we ever had any)
- figuring out marriage is a thing, in the midst of this new thing
- the constant thinking about the baby, never leaves your mind (sometimes the thoughts are irrational and/or rational fears about your baby)
- that feeling of "if I just knew when the baby would start sleeping through the night, I could manage this better" (if we knew when things were going to "end", we think we'd be able to endure the present)
Again, this doesn't translate to everyone, we have family who quickly moved across the country with their infant daughter. Their literal infant season has been its own journey, not to mention their COVID experience. Everyone has their story, this is mine.
And yes, while the good memories rise to the top, I also look back on infancy and I shudder a bit at some of the memories and can’t believe we did it - birth, sleepless nights, the fog that seemed to never lift. I have glimmers of this already with this crazy season.
How about this one - I hear many parents say, and have said often myself, "What was life like before kids?" Already we're pausing here to remember "What was life like before COVID?"Already my husband and I could hardly recall how we did laundry before all this (yes, truly).
The baby is growing up, we’re going to have less control and our different ways of parenting are going to cause unity and division both (what, you don’t care about your baby’s nap/sleep schedule? I do!).
What are the gifts and trials in this season for everyone? I hope the gifts will continue, I hope we keep learning from the struggles. I hope for hope.
Madeleine L'Engle said it well, "This is part of being human, this knowing that we are all part of one another, inextricably involved; and at the same time, alone, irrevocably alone." How true, your experience in this is your own, your reality and any feelings are valid. How I'd love to hear your ponderings, in hopes of being more together than we are apart.
Andrea, your blog is still on my feed; so glad to get a glimpse of y'all's continuing life. And I've been enjoying Madeline L'Engle lately too! And Poldark. I resonate with a lot of what you said about this season of isolation having its own charm in some ways.
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