The Other Notes

Ooommm... Monday morning of my second week off of work.  I did a few dishes, took a shower, got dressed, made the bed, started two loads of laundry, wrote a grocery list, kissed my husband goodbye and ate a lovely breakfast of pineapple, cantaloupe, grapes, banana, scrambled eggs, wheat toast, coffee and a tall glass of water, all before 9:30am.  Not bad for a girl who's about to pop!  (Of course, now I'm ready to go back to bed...)

I thought I'd be compelled to write last week during my first official week at home, but as it turns out, I was compelled to sleep.  Sleep, nest, eat, rest, repeat.

Now it really is just a waiting game.  I'm trying to find the balance between enjoying this relaxing time free from my regular responsibilities and preparing for my life to be turned utterly upside-down.  It's a tricky place to find mentally, especially when I have no idea when this little munchkin is going to actually arrive!

However, one thing's for sure: Even though I feel a little lost and strange not going to work (and not knowing how long this pre-baby time period will last...will she come this week, or not for another two...or longer?!), it was the right decision for me to choose March 20th as my last work day.  In my previous position as a case manager for the elderly, which was a very high-stress job prone to burn out, I attended a workshop about self-care and compassion fatigue and one particular concept from that day has stayed with me since:  the concept that it is actually less selfish to bow out of responsibilities when you start to have a negative attitude and/or are becoming burnt out.  Removing responsibilities from your plate is actually kinder and more beneficial to the people around you than sticking it out past your breaking point.  When you're bitter about something, the best thing to do is get distance from it.  Of course, depending on the situation, this isn't always possible, but in situations where it is possible it's definitely the way to go.  I saw what my previous job was doing to me and thankfully had enough insight to see that I was no longer going to be able to serve my clients and colleagues effectively if I stayed; I was also blessed to be supported by my then-fiance and had the option to pursue another path.

Although the reasons for parting with my current job are very different, I could see that pushing myself right up until my due date would not be beneficial to anyone.  Between the commute and chaos of the office, I was reaching my limit.  I resented waddling out to the waiting room to bring a patient into my office to talk about helping them find a therapist.  Hopefully this wasn't apparent to them, but even if it wasn't I felt guilty about it.  I didn't want to feel resentful of people who needed my help.  Similarly, I felt confident that I should take a step back from my cantoring/band commitments at church around the same time that I left work.  Because I value my musical outlets so much, part of me selfishly wanted to stick it out a few more weeks even though I was becoming bitter about certain aspects of my involvement as a band member and even as a parishioner.  But gratefully, a larger part of me knew enough to remove myself from the equation until a time when I can be more fully present as a peaceful and joyful contributor to the project.

I know that change, even positive or exciting change (like bringing a child into the world!) involves loss of some kind and can be painful.  This time right now for me is about being aware of that struggle while welcoming the unknown and letting go of certain crutches that don't have a place in my new life as a mother.  This is a time of risk-taking, of bravely singing new notes and trusting they will create a powerful song.

When I was young, I was in the car with my parents listening to the radio and I asked my musician father, "Dad, what are those other notes they're singing?"  He explained to me that those notes were harmonies to the melody.  I'm not sure I understood what he meant at the time, but as I grew up I often found myself picking up on the harmonies in the songs I listened to and preferring to sing those notes.  Since joining the band, I have even begun to trust in my natural ability to harmonize on the spot.

There's something wonderful about embracing those "other notes," even if they don't always come out right.  Something wonderful about being those other notes in life, the ones that make the song even more beautiful.  Being the harmony also acknowledges the need for others in the song.  I hope I can teach my daughter that she doesn't need to be centerstage to shine her light.  She can exude the fullness of harmony, she can be those other notes of the song and find even more meaning in her life than she would have otherwise found always being the melody.  That's what my parents taught me.  I dedicate this blog post to them, but especially to my father-- Thank You for the Music.

Play the Ball Where the Monkey Drops It

Galo: Thank you for doing the dishes.
Me: No problem, babe.  Thanks for getting the groceries.

This is a rather typical exchange between me and my husband.  I don't usually think much about it, but when we said these words to each other the other night, I thought, "Wow.  Together for six and a half years and we still make sure not to take each other for granted."  We have a real partnership and so much of it is grounded in gratitude.  It makes me happy to think that someday our children will witness us having interactions of this nature, casual but appreciative.  It reminds me of a phrase we incorporated into our wedding vows: "I take you for better or worse, but not for granted."

It's very easy to take people and life circumstances for granted.  For me, it sometimes feels like I need to take certain things for granted because otherwise I would constantly be questioning the "security" of my blessings and feeling anxious.  At some point, I find it necessary to settle into my version of "normal," while at the same time trying to being as open as I can be to change.  It doesn't necessarily mean you're taking something or someone for granted just because you allow yourself the luxury of enjoying its presence in the now.  (It has taken me some time to realize that, similar to the way it has taken me years to come to believe that it's permissible to hope for-- and even assume-- the best outcome.) 

When I posted my last entry at the end of January, I had no way of knowing what February 2015 would hold (tons of snow) and the gratitude challenges it would present!  It was a rough month, which is why I couldn't bring myself to write during that time, although in retrospect writing and venting would probably have helped.  If my information is up-to-date, we are a mere couple of inches away from a record-breaking winter of snow, which was dumped on us all in the span of basically one month.  It's been a tough time to be pregnant, specifically pregnant and someone who commutes via public transportation.  Initially I was overjoyed to be avoiding the heat of summer while pregnant, but I quickly learned that winters in New England (along with Massachusetts public transit) are not a recipe for prenatal happiness either.  Since this is my first pregnancy, it's difficult for me to know if my third trimester would still have been this emotionally trying if the weather had been more cooperative (and if people around me were less irritated with life themselves and able to have more compassion for a pregnant lady trying to get from point A to point B!).  Either way, the general sense of calm I enjoyed and took so much pride in has been much more of a challenge to achieve in this final trimester.  I have been more anxious, but that's been the most manageable concern-- the irritability, anger and frustration have been the real problem!  I've reached the end of my rope multiple times.  I suppose that it's good practice for motherhood though... I'm sure to reach the end of my rope repeatedly and now I know I can get to that point and still find a way to carry on, usually with at least some trace of grace.

It's been disconcerting to me to feel so angry sometimes because I'm not used to it and I feel guilty about it, especially now that we're in the season of Lent and I feel like I should be extra-grateful and reflective.  But there's no way around it: this year is a different ballgame!  I can only be as grateful and reflective as my hormones and energy allow.  It is often necessary for me to turn my brain off and just be.  As someone who draws meaning and motivation from the pursuit of insight and wisdom, I've had to learn to have faith that those moments of clarity will still come-- I just can't force them during the times I simply have to survive.  If I try to, that will only increase my frustration and set off a vicious cycle.

These final weeks of pregnancy (hard to believe I'm 35 weeks, and yet I could not be more ready...) have also forced me to be more assertive and make myself and my needs a priority.  I always knew I was someone who tended toward taking care of others, but I don't think I ever realized just how deep that goes until now.  I'm now realizing that it's not just that I want to care for others, I don't want to inconvenience others, and there's a big difference.  I've gained practice reality-checking with my husband about what I can and can't handle and what is reasonable for him to ask of me.  (To be fair, this is his first pregnancy too and he doesn't necessarily know what my limitations are.)  I've had to blatantly tell strangers on the bus that I need their seat.  I've set boundaries with the musicians I work with at church as I try to navigate my participation in a new spiritual project.  I've wrestled with others' opinions about what my future as a parent should look like and have made peace with the fact that not everyone is going to agree with my choices.  One of the hardest settings for me to be assertive continues to be my doctors' offices, but I'm working on it for the sake of my health and my baby's well-being.

I've even had to be be assertive with myself at times, for example, when I'm looking in the mirror and judging myself for...what?  Looking pregnant?  Being "unattractive"?  In those moments, I take a deep breath, allow myself no more than a minute or two to feel upset, and then assertively think, "Nope.  I'm not doing this.  I'm not putting myself down when my body, mind and spirit are working this hard to bring a child into the world."

I've been assertive with myself when my worry starts to gain momentum, when all of a sudden I'm resisting change, questioning my decisions, struggling with the fact that it will no longer just be the two of us, wondering what my relationship with my daughter will be like, worrying that she won't be safe and happy in her life...  During those times, I've tried to remind myself that worrying and trying to predict or control the future is a waste of energy, time, and passion.  Worrying truly is like praying for an outcome you do not want.  Prayer is an investment in what is ultimately good.  Worry is an investment in something else entirely. 

A wise influence in my life recently advised me to "Play the ball where the monkey drops it."  Once the English had colonized India they yearned for recreation and built a golf course in Calcutta.  They were then faced with a unique obstacle.  Monkeys would drop out of the trees, scurry across the course, and seize the golf balls.  They would play with them, tossing them here and there.  At first, the golfers tried to control the monkeys, but finally they gave into reality and developed a rather novel ground rule:  Play the ball where the monkey drops it.