I was sitting at home on maternity leave with an 18-day-old baby girl, both of us struggling with getting the hang of breastfeeding. For 18 days Grace and I had worked day in and day out, every couple of hours, literally around the clock to get the latch-on and sucking techniques working properly to increase and maintain my milk supply. That’s roughly 216 feedings, and I refused to give up. I’ve never worked harder at anything in my life, before or sense, than at nursing my daughter. A week into it, I went to see a lactation consultant who, after watching my attempt at nursing Grace, declared that Grace had a “disorganized suck,” (only years later would I come to realize that this disorganized suck was largely due to Grace's disorganized central nervous system) told me to nurse very often, suggested I look into craniosacral therapy, and gave me a list of herbs and methods to try to keep my milk supply up. I rented a double hospital-grade breast pump and was on my way.
On September 11, 2001, at 8:46 AM, I was on the phone with a consultant from the La Leche League of Chapel Hill. (which means, of course, she was on the phone with me, and will remember that’s what she was doing when the twin towers were hit). David kept trying to call me from work but got a busy signal. (I hate call-waiting). Finally he got through, and, shaken and out of breath, he told me to turn on the TV, that two planes had hit the World Trade Center. I did, just in time to see the second tower fall, and for the rest of the day, I sat on the couch, glued to the TV, babe in arms, shocked, confused, and sad. David spent the day e-mailing his best friend who works in Manhattan, getting play-by-play updates on what was going on. This friend, incidently, was one of the eight finalists in the 9/11 Memorial Design competition. That evening David and I talked about our mortality and commented that if we were to be attacked in our home, that night, we’d die happy because we had right there in our living room everything that really mattered to us: each other and our brand new baby girl. David slept with his switchblade on his nightstand, and I dreamt that Osama bin Laden was lurking around in our backyard.
My mom was worried that I’d feel isolated being a new mom just sitting at home watching all of the carnage and terrible news on TV. She encouraged me to get out of the house, even if it just meant taking Grace on walks around the neighborhood. I did, and the weather was just exquisite. Clear, sunny skies, warm, no humidity. In fact, I refer to perfect-weather days like those as “September 11th days,” After a two-week healing period following my C-Section delivery, I took Grace out in my sling, on Friday, September 14, for our first outing just the two of us to the prayer service held at my church, University United Methodist. I needed that communal experience to begin to process the emotional toll.
Breastfeeding continued to go better, and Grace and I got out every day, mostly to Weaver Street, the perfect place to go with a newborn in the early fall, surrounded by others who are good and want good for others. Ten days after September 11, on September 21st, David and some friends went to a show at the Cat’s Cradle, in Carrboro, the White Stripes, I think. (Or maybe it was the Strokes, or the Vines, or the Hives, who can keep them straight?) I stayed home, Grace sleeping on my chest, and watched the America: A Tribute to Heroes special, in hopes of getting to speak to Brad Pitt on the phone. Music has always been key in helping me deal with emotions, and I was touched by many of the performances, particularly U2’s rendition of "Walk On."
So life post 9/11 began to unfold. What have those five years meant to me? Cutting through the BS to find and make time for the things in life that really matter, realizing I can’t control the Bin Laden’s the Bush’s, or the Katrina’s in this world, figuring out what I can influence, and focusing my time, abilities, and desires to the best things in life (which aren’t even things), and in the face of tragedy, pain, illness, grief, frustration, confusion and extreme day to day struggles, it's worth it to me to never give up the good fight.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Saturday, September 09, 2006
The Day That Never Was
Yesterday started off so well: after dropping Grace off at school, I drove back up to Chapel Hill, parked at the Farmer's Market in Carrboro and ran a long loop around Carrboro and Chapel Hill, passing places that evoke strong memories about my past, present (and possibly future?) here in the area and at UNC, and I felt happy to be a part of this community. As I ran over the uneven bricks on the sidewalks of campus on Cameron Street, I confirmed to myself that I really did hope I would be tripping along these paths next September, as a student admitted into the Masters of Social Work program at Carolina. Because my life has evolved here, I've started a family here, this is where I go to church and volunteer, and support my kids' schools, and support my friends' kids' fundraisers, and I want to continue to match my gifts--my deepest passions and capabilities--with the needs of others...right here. And amidst this affirmation and hope and endorphin-induced shot of happiness, a neat thing happened: I was running past Frat Row on Cameron Street, getting geared up for the last stretch back into Carrboro and this Honda CRV pulls over and the guy driving flagged me down. It was David. "This is weird," he said, "I thought it looked like you running. Listen, I forgot to leave Johnny's car seat at Spanish For Fun. Should I drop it off now, or are you going back home before going back down to pick up Grace?" I caught my breath, "I'm going back home to shower, so I'll pick it up then." Now that's a conversation that I wouldn't have had twelve years ago.
I had all these plans (but not too many plans) for the weekend, when, wouldn't you know, I wake up with a migraine and have spent the whole day so far either in bed or in the bathroom worshipping the porcelain god. I feel disappointed, bummed out and guilty at my incapacity today, but David's view, while he's away with the kids, is to take advantage of it. He thinks I should sit around all day and surf the net, read, watch tv and just take it easy. He calls days like these "free days." I hate days like these. Sick days that come out of nowhere. I'm calling it the "day that never was."
I had all these plans (but not too many plans) for the weekend, when, wouldn't you know, I wake up with a migraine and have spent the whole day so far either in bed or in the bathroom worshipping the porcelain god. I feel disappointed, bummed out and guilty at my incapacity today, but David's view, while he's away with the kids, is to take advantage of it. He thinks I should sit around all day and surf the net, read, watch tv and just take it easy. He calls days like these "free days." I hate days like these. Sick days that come out of nowhere. I'm calling it the "day that never was."
Thursday, September 07, 2006
In No Particular Order
Last night I had ice cream for supper. I knew I shouldn't, but I did anyway. A Foundation Board Member brought me some black cherry preserves and told me to warm it up in the microwave and pour over ice cream. That's just what I did...I just didn't wait for dessert. I bought Ben and Jerry's vanilla ice cream and Hershey's chocolate hard shell, and while David was giving the kids a bath, I enjoyed an indulgent treat. Afterwards, Johnny said, "I smell you, Mommy. I smell your breff." "What does it smell like?" He couldn't place the smell, so I helped him. "Does it smell like ice cream?" "Yeah, it smells like ice cweam." Today I'm paying for it. Dairy is on my "do not eat, you're allergic" list (and I've been doing really well to avoid foods on the list) so today I feel ever so slightly spacey and a bit foggy. (And all this time we thought it was because I was a blonde).
Johnny's doing great in his new three-year old class at school. The biggest concern currently is that he's making girls mad by kissing them on the arm, unannounced and uninvited. Even though we have to nip that behavior in the bud, I think it's rather sweet and told Johnny he can kiss me unannounced, any time. Another too-cute-for-words Johnny saying is what he said the other day about one of his classmate's older sisters, "Mommy, I want to be Carolina's (pronounced Cadoleena) Prince." awww. I told him he could be Mommy's Prince, and he said, "No, Daddy is your Prince." awww.
Grace has started her third year of Pre-K here. Other than the fact that it takes me an hour and a half to get to work each day (I leave the house at 7:30 AM, drive Grace down to Pittsboro, sign her in, then drive to Cary and arrive to work by 9:00 AM), and it takes David an hour a day for him to drive down to P'Boro to pick Grace up and drop her off at SFFA, Miss Diane's class is worth it, and I think it's made all the difference in the world for her.
David actually did accomplish a lot while the kids and I were in Boone. The last thing I noticed was that he replaced the front door screen like I had requested. The screen is ripped down the left side and there's this annoying rubber flapping piece that moves around every time the door is opened or closed. I was impressed that he'd remembered and actually fixed it. He could have gotten away with it, but he admitted, "I didn't replace the screen, I just turned it around." Now, the rip and the flapping piece of rubber are on the right side, not the door handle side, and therefore less noticable. Hey, works for me.
Johnny's doing great in his new three-year old class at school. The biggest concern currently is that he's making girls mad by kissing them on the arm, unannounced and uninvited. Even though we have to nip that behavior in the bud, I think it's rather sweet and told Johnny he can kiss me unannounced, any time. Another too-cute-for-words Johnny saying is what he said the other day about one of his classmate's older sisters, "Mommy, I want to be Carolina's (pronounced Cadoleena) Prince." awww. I told him he could be Mommy's Prince, and he said, "No, Daddy is your Prince." awww.
Grace has started her third year of Pre-K here. Other than the fact that it takes me an hour and a half to get to work each day (I leave the house at 7:30 AM, drive Grace down to Pittsboro, sign her in, then drive to Cary and arrive to work by 9:00 AM), and it takes David an hour a day for him to drive down to P'Boro to pick Grace up and drop her off at SFFA, Miss Diane's class is worth it, and I think it's made all the difference in the world for her.
David actually did accomplish a lot while the kids and I were in Boone. The last thing I noticed was that he replaced the front door screen like I had requested. The screen is ripped down the left side and there's this annoying rubber flapping piece that moves around every time the door is opened or closed. I was impressed that he'd remembered and actually fixed it. He could have gotten away with it, but he admitted, "I didn't replace the screen, I just turned it around." Now, the rip and the flapping piece of rubber are on the right side, not the door handle side, and therefore less noticable. Hey, works for me.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
10 Things I Love About Amy
10. That she has a Harvard education but enjoys reading People Magazine.
9. That she refuses to be friends with anyone who doesn’t admit to wanting to strangle their
kid every now and then.
8. That she hugged me and told me she was proud of me when I “came out” with my depression and told her I thought it was time to seek help.
7. That she celebrates and understands Grace’s triumphs and victories, as small and trivial as they may appear to others, because she has an “Out of Sync Child” too.
6. That when I’m telling a long-winded story, she feels comfortable enough to say, “Cooley, this better be going somewhere fast.”
5. That once she wrote me a note on our kids’ preschool sign-in sheet that said, “Sarah, if you
read this, let me know, and I’ll give you $5.00” (and that I never got the $5.00, because I didn’t read the note, because somewhere along the line the Cooleys got the idea that we’re above the system and therefore don’t need to sign our kids in and out each day).
4. That she’s the most honest friend I’ve ever had and that one time when I asked her if she was upset with me she said, “Don’t worry-you’ll know if I’m ever upset with you.”
3. That because we have so much to share with each other about the previous week and
what’s going on in our lives, we’ve had to come up with Agendas for our weekly playdates to get through all we want to say.
2. That our friendship (of only three years!) grew so much in one year that a mutual friend who had been away in Oregon for a year while her husband served in Iraq, immediately picked up on it by the jabs, digs and insults that Amy and I were trading, that only close friends can get away with.
1. That even though she’s in Law School now and is busier than ever and that she’s meeting new classmates and friends, and that we’ve had to postpone our weekly playdates, and that’s it’s been almost three weeks (!) since we’ve seen each other, and that major things are going on in our lives and in our kids’ lives, I know she’s only a phone call or an e-mail away to laugh with or cry with and that when we do finally find time in our schedules to get our kids together or to grab a cup of coffee, we’re going to pick right back up where we left off, without it being awkward or weird or judgemental, because that’s the kind of friend Amy is. She’s the best.
9. That she refuses to be friends with anyone who doesn’t admit to wanting to strangle their
kid every now and then.
8. That she hugged me and told me she was proud of me when I “came out” with my depression and told her I thought it was time to seek help.
7. That she celebrates and understands Grace’s triumphs and victories, as small and trivial as they may appear to others, because she has an “Out of Sync Child” too.
6. That when I’m telling a long-winded story, she feels comfortable enough to say, “Cooley, this better be going somewhere fast.”
5. That once she wrote me a note on our kids’ preschool sign-in sheet that said, “Sarah, if you
read this, let me know, and I’ll give you $5.00” (and that I never got the $5.00, because I didn’t read the note, because somewhere along the line the Cooleys got the idea that we’re above the system and therefore don’t need to sign our kids in and out each day).
4. That she’s the most honest friend I’ve ever had and that one time when I asked her if she was upset with me she said, “Don’t worry-you’ll know if I’m ever upset with you.”
3. That because we have so much to share with each other about the previous week and
what’s going on in our lives, we’ve had to come up with Agendas for our weekly playdates to get through all we want to say.
2. That our friendship (of only three years!) grew so much in one year that a mutual friend who had been away in Oregon for a year while her husband served in Iraq, immediately picked up on it by the jabs, digs and insults that Amy and I were trading, that only close friends can get away with.
1. That even though she’s in Law School now and is busier than ever and that she’s meeting new classmates and friends, and that we’ve had to postpone our weekly playdates, and that’s it’s been almost three weeks (!) since we’ve seen each other, and that major things are going on in our lives and in our kids’ lives, I know she’s only a phone call or an e-mail away to laugh with or cry with and that when we do finally find time in our schedules to get our kids together or to grab a cup of coffee, we’re going to pick right back up where we left off, without it being awkward or weird or judgemental, because that’s the kind of friend Amy is. She’s the best.
Friday, September 01, 2006
Get 'Er Done
The only way for us to get anything done around our house is to make sure the kids aren't here. Since it's a holiday weekend, Grace's Occupational Therapy appointment was cancelled this morning, and we don't have a playdate scheduled for this afternoon, so David took both kids here for the whole day. David and I talked about sneaking off to a movie this afternoon, as his work on Fridays is usually done by about 1:00 PM. But it doesn't look like that's going to happen. He's working on a shower/plumbing problem that we've put off long enough. My mom used to tell me when Grace was an infant that a happy baby was more important than a clean house. I must have some extraordinarily happy children, then, because my house is never clean. This 1100 sq. foot little box we live in is just overrun by stuff (most kid stuff) and I keep telling myself that the only way to reel it back under control is to get rid of lots of stuff from every room...without the kids around to see what I'm getting rid of. I have lots of intentions and just never have the time or energy to get much done. This morning I filled two big bags of stuff to take to PTA Thrift Shop. Then I went to the gym and ran 8 miles (my personal best!) for this week's long run in preparation for this. I should be spending less time doing this and more time studying for this. That's why I'm soon off to here for the rest of the afternoon.
David is sending the kids and me here this weekend so he can finish getting things done around the house. Oh, and also it's my dad's, Sheila's, and our friend Matt's b-days.
David is sending the kids and me here this weekend so he can finish getting things done around the house. Oh, and also it's my dad's, Sheila's, and our friend Matt's b-days.
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