Security

Thunder has always fascinated me.
There's no other sound I can think of that I experience on a regular basis that doesn't originate somewhere tangible.
Light, particles, electricity - that's cool, too. But really, when I think about light, I'm more dumbfounded by a lightbulb than by lightning. Guess I'm just used to bright stuff coming out of the sky.
But sound? Seriously. That's amazing.

One of the longest, most intense storms of my life blew through last night.
I didn't hear the storm at first, but Ben did.
I woke up to his fussing in the monitor, only to realize that it was thunder woke him.
I rocked him for a short bit, waiting for the storm to pass.
When it was clear it was going to be a long night, I brought him back to bed with me.

Laying there awake, watching the light display, I couldn't help but remember laying in between my parents on scary nights. The same clap of thunder that can feel like the end of the world in a room alone is nothing more than an annoyingly loud noise when you're nestled between the two most important people in your life. I remember praying that my dad would fall asleep before the storm ended so that I wouldn't have to go back to bed alone.

Last night for the first time, I got a glimpse of what it was like for them. With all our windows open (Oh, how I love June), the thunder was so loud and so sharp that with each clap, Ben would jolt up like a popcorn kernel exploding. He was so zonked that he never opened his eyes, but he would reach to touch my arm, or leg. As soon as he was sure of my presence, he settled back in.

When he was first born, I felt like a pregnant lady who gave birth. Not long after that, I became a mother - in the Hallmark sense of the word. You know, "You give so much and expect so little in return" kind of thing. I'm just now starting to feel like a mommy. By mommy I mean Ben's favorite person on earth. His security.

I'm here to tell you that's the best feeling in the world.

exposed

I'm no athlete.
Even if I was, I think I'd still have issues with the locker room.
The closest I come to getting naked in public was camp - where I perfected the art of changing clothes without ever being naked.
But that's impossible in a swim suit.
Therefore, when swimming, I dress (and undress) at home.
And no - giving birth does not need to forever hinder one's modesty.

So there I was - the Aquatic Center. Ben's first night in a pool. Pretty exciting stuff.
We were just arriving, still in the parking lot, getting Ben out of the car seat and a woman noticed his cuteness and stopped to say a friendly hi.

When I entered the locker room, I saw her again, out of the corner of my eye. She was undressing. So I stopped myself from the impulse to turn and say hi again - she was really very friendly.
Instead, my inner dialogue went something like:
Oh boy - I hate locker rooms. Don't panic! Divert the eyes. Where is the bloody changing table?! Why is it in her area? Oh yes - I can have my back to her.

I got Ben settled in nicely on the changing table and got to work. It didn't take him long to figure out how cool his voice sounded in the echoey room. So he started jabbering (aka YELLING) up a storm.
I was talking to him and laughing.

From behind me I heard, "He's so cute - how old is he?"

I turned around thinking "If she's initiating conversation, she must be dressed."
You can guess how wrong I was.

So there I am, one hand on naked, squirming, yelling happily Ben - while my body is half turned towards an aging 100% naked woman -and my eyes are darting around like a pinball machine.

What's the polite thing to do here?
Turn your back to her?
Face her. All of her?

I settled on locking in on the most intense eye contact of my life.
She made some other comments about Ben. Or babies. Or the economy. I have no idea.
I smiled, nodded, and turned back around - never happier to wipe Ben's butt cheeks in my life.

Happier Things

Proof that actually penning my emotions is cathartic...


I seriously don't think there's anything better in the world than nuzzling my face in Ben's neck.
Especially first thing in the morning when he's extra snuggly and just a little bit salty.

I don't think I'm especially good at work-type things. I think I have good enough people skills that I can be successful, but I don't have a marketable skill like design or accounting, etc. Nothing in my life has ever come as naturally as motherhood. When it comes to Ben, I certainly don't have all the answers. But I've got a willingness to try and fail and try again that I never knew about myself. Now about that paycheck...

I like to break the rules with Ben. I know I'm not supposed to rock him to sleep. But I do. Deal with it, Day Care Lady. I have the opportunity to hold my baby for a total of about 3.5 hours a day. If I can make it 4 by nuzzling his sweet baby neck for 30:00 after he falls asleep, I'm gonna. I earned that right at 1:41pm September 25, 2008.

I secretly hope Ben never gets teeth. Is there anything happier than a toothless, full body smile? Didn't think so.

I have never loved my body. Or appreciated it. Or even liked talking about it. The fact that my... um... body makes food for my son is miraculous. Labor & delivery forever altered my self perception as well. I'm gonna leave it at that. (This is where I fall off the mommy-blogger wagon).

I'm still figuring out how to be a good wife and mommy. Keith's had to take a back seat to Ben. Sorry 'bout that, babe. I'm trying.

It takes a conscious decision every single day not to submit to the resentment I feel at having to go to work. And then, when I have a day off with Ben and it doesn't go well, it takes everything I've got to convince myself that he would have had a bad day at day care, too. Working moms cannot win. Period.

Strangely, I understand the cycle of abuse and poverty better now than ever. I realize how often I make a conscious decision based on what I've seen work (or not work) for other parents. I have no idea how often I do it subconsciously. I thank God every day that by and large the other parents in my life are worth modeling.

Tonight, I looked through all the images we have of Ben since the day he was born. Why are there never enough?
Then I had a good cry.
It was worth it.

Really?

I think I've entered a quarter life crisis of sorts.
I just can't get over my life.
Is it for real?

There are days when I wish I could change some detail about every single aspect of my life.
I am rarely completely content. I'm restless.
I'm realizing that it has a pretty significant impact on my relationship with God.

I am so oblivious to change sometimes that when I actually take a moment or two to notice it, I'm shocked.
Is this really my life?
When did I marry such a studly, humble, servant-hearted human being?
I own a house?
In Holland???
I've worked at the same "summer gig" for 7 years?

SEVEN YEARS.

That means next you're going to tell me I stopped being a student 7 years ago.

Am I where I wanted to be then?
Am I on a road that leads anywhere?
Do I know which direction I'm headed?
Is that the right direction?
Am I paying enough attention to the daily stuff?
Am I paying too much attention to the daily stuff?

Does my life really involve meeting the daily needs for another human being?
My son.


My son.


My son.



Wow.
I am a mother.
It has redefined all of me.

I didn't think it would.
I really thought I would still be me, just with a kid.

But I am no longer
Sara
Daughter
Wife
Worker
Friend.


For me, it begins and ends with mom.

It's a life time commitment.


That completely and utterly overwhelms me.

It's part of why I haven't been writing here.
Or anywhere, really.
I don't want to be a mommy blogger.
I just want to share my thoughts.

So here they all are from the past 7 months:

Holy crap - I'm a mom.

Look at Ben!

Proofs of six month pictures can be seen here.

I get it

There aren't really words to sum up the last week and a half of my life.

The best I can say is now I get it.

That sappy infatuated look that new moms give their husbands?  I get it.

Feeling like sitting in a rocking chair for hours on end is the most important job in the world?  I get it.

The fear of being alone?

The definition of unconditional love?

Feeling sheer rage at a completely polite nurse bathing your child while he screams?

Happy tears?

"Outings" (like buying milk) being somewhat intimidating?

Joy.

Calling.

Family.

Yeah, I get that too.