Just a swingin'

Sunday night after dinner Chris and I decided a little stroll in the park would be fun. Over at the city duck pond, we pulled out the stroller and wheeled Haydie Pie around, watching the rednecks play. (No, not all our neighbors are rednecks. But the ones wearing tanktops with their combat boots throwing rocks at the ducks while laughing hysterically through their 'baccy-stained teeth most definitely fit that category).

The duck pond was in a pretty sad shape, all manner of visitors aside. Chris and I often visited the park while dating, and would spend evenings hand in hand walking along the water's edge, watching the fountain spray and listening to the ducks argue over breadcrumbs. In fact, I think it was at this park one night not long after we'd met that we had one of those soul-searching talks you have when you're dating about "what you want to do with your life." I might have said something about possibly wanting nine kids one day. This is a part of the conversation I have a hard time recalling, but I think the scar on Chris's head from where he passed out and hit his head on a rock when he heard the word "nine" , followed by "children" keep him from forgetting the moment. EVER.

Okay, so maybe there was no rock, and no scar, but to hear him tell it there may as well have been. In my defense, nine was way down from my initial plans of thirteen. And no, I wasn't trying to keep up with the Duggars or anything - I was sensible about it. I wanted to have 7 and adopt 6. That's not so bad, is it? Of course, those were many moons ago, before I had to worry about 7 labors, or 13 mouths to feed, or where to stick all the little squirts... I just always knew I wanted to be a mommy. It was only later that I figured out what a limited audience I wanted referring to me by that title. Ah, dreams...

So here we were, eight years after the summer we first started strolling together in that park, our little band having grown ever so slightly to a much more managable 3. Me, Chris and our little Haydie Pie. As we rounded the pond I remembered the new playground the city had installed there, and as it was utterly deserted, we decided it would be a perfect time for Hayden's first visit. The whole playground is built on a sandbox, so we let her sink her toes into the grainy goodness and trot (holding ever to my fingers) over to the swings. I wish the sand had been at least damp, where it could have captured the impressions of those pudgy feet stomping along, but it's Georgia. It never rains here. Until it does, that is. Then it won't stop. I digress.

So we plopped Haydie into one of the swings (as Chris attempted, rather unsuccessfully, to swing alongside her in one of the other kiddie swings) and gave her her first taste of the freedom and exhilaration of a swing. She LOVED it, and was absolutely content to swing in there as long as we kept pushing! Her little legs would occasionally pump with the swing, but quite often she'd break into her trademark pedaling, causing the swing to rock and bounce. I think it's safe to say it was the highlight of her day. I know it was mine.She even got up the nerve to go down the slide once or twice (with mommy and daddy's help, of course), but as Daddy said, I was pushing it there, so we just enjoyed the swings for a bit before the sun began to sink into the horizon, then packed it on up and headed home, our load just one sweet memory heavier than when we'd arrived.

Say what?

Hayden began jabbering last night. Or babbling, if you will. Until now, her language has consisted largely of whines, wails, shrieks and coos that all sound fairly similar. Some version of "aaaaaaahhhhhhheeeeeeeeeaaaahhhh" or "eeeeeeeeehhhhhhhaaaa" or "heeeaaaaaaahaaaahhh"

Not a lot of variation going on there.

Until last night. As her Papa was handing her to Chris, she came out with something that sounded surprisingly like "dahdahdahdahdahdahdah". Of course, Chris and I harbor no delusions that she intended that to be a word, or that she was referring to him. His parents, however are another story entirely. It's another Genius Baby moment for the record books, I'm sure.

After that moment, it was like a switch had flipped. All the way home, she continued her babbling "dahdahdahgaaabbbabababa", and "ummmmbabababammm" and so on. As I put her to bed, "garmbabaaaddeeeeooo", and of course, "dadahdahahdah". Up until now, she'd get the occasional consonant sound in there, but they were few and far between. Suddenly, she decided these noises were almost (almost) as much fun as blowing raspberries at us.

It was so neat to watch her discover this new world of sounds and self-expression, and I can't wait to hear her use "da-da" with intention and meaning as she reaches up to her Daddy. Of course, I can't wait to hear "ma-ma" either, but as I've told Chris, she's a sharp one, our Hayden. She's going after the sucker first (and besides, she knows she's already got me where she wants me!)

Something to look forward to...

"When kids hit one year old, it's like hanging out with a miniature drunk. You
have to hold onto them. They bump into things. They laugh and cry. They
urinate.
They vomit." -Johnny Depp

Good times ahead, I'm sure. :)

Kids say the darndest things

I have gotten a chance this week at church to spend some time with my friends' children, and while I love the age Hayden is now and am enjoying every minute, I have to admit I am looking forward to when she is able to verbalize her thoughts and feelings - I can't wait to see how that little mind works!

A few great gems that I was privy to this week:

The Babysitter
Lexi, 8, is the epitomy of a little lady. She acts and talks very grown up for her age, and has loved the opportunity to help with Hayden. As we were leaving the other night, she stopped suddenly, turned to her mom and exclaimed (finger pointed in the air for emphasis), " I've got a briliant idea! Bonnie and Hayden can come home with us!" As her mom started in on the usual "they have to go to their home now" line, I approached it differently. "Lexi, what about Mr. Chris? What will he do if we go home with you?". "Oh, him?" she pshawed, "he can go to his house to enjoy some time alone."

Gotta give her credit, the girl knows how to push the right buttons... Mr. Chris would have supported that one, no problem. His only issue would be trying to figure out what to do with all that free time! Maybe I should convince Lexi to get Mr. Chris and Hayden to go to her house and let Ms. Bonnie spend some time alone for awhile...


When not to fish
My friend's granddaughter, Carly, sat behind us at church last night and at one point her grandfather, seated on the other side of the church, began quoting from Luke 5. This scripture describes when Jesus instructed Simon to cast his nets despite the fishermen not having caught a thing all night. When they obeyed they found their nets were so full they broke. The gist of his talk was about the fact that the fishermen called their friends to help them, and how as friends we should be there to support one another, but Carly derived something entirely different from the discourse. She leaned over to her grandmother and urgently asked her to please "tell Paw-Paw he's not supposed to talk about going fishing while he's at church!"

Revival

This week has been our revival at church. When I was growing up I used to think that a revival involved a tent, some crazy men shouting about hell, damnation and brimstone, a bunch of wild-eyed hillbillies with pitchforks and chickens and probably even some snakes, thown in for good measure. It was a Hollywood-fueled vision of backwoods religion which was more than a little misguided.

Not so much about being Baptist, or Catholic, or any particular religion, but about a renewal of spirit, a rejuvination of soul, a calibration of my inner compass, and a realignment of my focus on that which is most important, Revival has come to be one of my very favorite weeks of the year.

At our church, we have a week set aside each Summer for our Revival. We come together as a group to refresh our faith, to strengthen our relationship with God and one another, to pray and sing and eat together as a community. To love one another. To literally set the earthly world and worries aside for a few short days and truly revive our spirits.

Most people take vacation for the week so that we can come to both the morning and evening services. The church meets at 11am for a service, then one of the families will bring the preachers and other church members into their home for a lunch, sometimes singing, often praying, and then after a short break for some rest, we meet back at 8pm for another service. It sounds exhausting, I'm sure. In some ways it really is. It's a grueling schedule, with little time for anything other that eating, sleeping, washing and back to church. And at the same time it wears your body out, it lifts your spirit up. It is such a cleansing of all the filth and troubles and pettiness of the carnal world, and such a purifying, humbling, renewing experience for your soul.

I cannot put into words the joy and fulfillment I gain during these special, holy weeks. My heart swells with love, for a just yet merciful God, for a church family who knows the power of prayer, for mankind, lost and broken, faithful and healed. It is such a joy to pray, sing and worship, then commune and dine with friends, share our homes and bounties with one another, and then meet again to pray and worship. It is beyond what any single church service is alone. It generates a feeling that grows with each service, buzzing in your ears, trembling in your heart, spilling from your soul, until you think you cannot be raised any higher up, and then... then, God passes by.

I would give anything to stand always in God's presence. To always feel his love and spirit surrounding me as fully as I do during these times. Granted, I know God is always with me, and I can kneel and pray anytime I need him and feel his presence in my life, but the week of constant searching and praising and focus on him allows me to live with him in the forefront of my life as I wish I always could. Alas, life tends to get in the way. We lose focus, we fall short, we are human and sinful. That is why I thank God for these weeks of Revival. What a beautiful and amazing blessing.

Snack Time

Hayden had her first "cookie" today (actually something that looked much like an overgrown Honeycomb called an "Apple Wagon Wheel).

She was rather surprised to learn that this thing she put in her mouth actually had some taste to it, and tested it for a moment or two with her tongue before she began attempting to bite it. Once she figured out she could bite it! And would get yummy bits to suck on and swallow! She was all for it.... That is, for all of about 7 minutes. Then she lost interest in it all together and wanted me to pick her up. Unfortunately, the thing was insanely sticky by then and despite her best efforts, she couldn't get it free from her hand. It was like it had velcroed itself to her wee paw. Note to self -keep the kid safely corralled from furniture and walls when feeding her "Apple Wagon Wheels". These things are gonna be messy.

More experiments with solids and the results coming soon.

MOTHER's Act

This post is for all mothers out there. Those who have suffered with post-partum mood and anxiety disorders, and those blessed enough to have passed through that period unscathed.

I am a new mother, but I have learned volumes in my few short months as a mom about the terror and devastation these issues can wreak on a mother, father, child and family.

It is estimated that 15-20% of new moms - about 1 million in the US each year - suffer from post-partum depression. This is not the baby blues. It is a debilitating mood disorder that a mother cannot just "snap out of" or "suck it up and get over". It is one that requires support and treatment, sometimes medical, essential in helping the mother, baby and family recover.

Many people are unaware that there is a spectrum of mood and anxiety disorders beyond post-partum depression that mothers can also suffer from. Perinatal mood and anxiety disorders include antepartum depression, postpartum depression, postpartum anxiety, postpartum OCD, postpartum psychosis and postpartum post-traumatic stress disorder. These women are not defective, or weak, or bad people. While the exact cause of these illnesses is not yet known, research shows there are a wide variety of risk factors, from family medical history, to how one's body processes certain hormones, to the level of stress experienced now or in the past, to how much support a mother has to help care for her baby. What we do know is that this is not their fault.

One size does not fit all – there are all kinds of symptoms a mother may (or may not) experience in the period during pregnancy and after birth. These include:
· Sadness
· Mood swings
· Difficulty concentrating
· Irritation or anger (with yourself and/or those around you)
· Lack of interest in things you used to enjoy
· Sleep and appetite changes
· Panic attacks
· Excessive worry about your baby
· Disturbing thoughts about harming yourself or your baby
· Mania
· Racing thoughts
· Panic attacks
· Headaches and stomach problems
· Guilt
· Feeling like you should never have become a mother or that you won’t be able to do it
· Delusions or hallucinations

(For more information on each illness and its symptoms, visit the Postpartum Support International website at http://www.postpartum.net/brief.html )

If you believe you have symptoms of a perinatal disorder, I encourage you to seek help. If your wife, daughter, friend or family member shows signs, please support them, help out however you can, and ENCOURAGE them to seek help. There is no good reason to delay reaching out for help. Many studies show that both the physical and emotional health of women who go untreated, and their children, are negatively impacted over the long term. You deserve to be healthy, and your child needs a healthy mom.

Lastly, there is a key piece of legislation under review right now called the MOTHER's Act, sponsored in part by the mother of Melanie Blocker Stokes, a new mom who lost her life to post-partum depression. This new legislation encourages more research, funding and support for perinatal disorders, and in particular supports screening of new moms to help catch these disorders earlier and more effectively.

Many moms don't realize that what they're feeling is not normal. They think that everyone struggles through the pregnancy and new-mom phase, which is true, but they don't realize the extent to which they are suffering is NOT normal. It is difficult for new moms to know where to turn today - their OBs are often unaware or ill-equipped to recognize or diagnose perinatal disorders, their family doctors are frequently in the same boat, and the stigma that surrounds these diseases prevents them from reaching out for help.

Please, for the moms in your life, I ask you click here to read about the Mother's Act, and if you see fit, to sign your support for it and help this important piece of legislature pass.

Christmas in July

I went to see Hayden at lunch today, as I often do, and when I walked into the room and she heard my voice, her little head whipped around and she broke into a huge, gummy grin. Her arms started flying and her feet began thumping the bouncer she was in and she blew green bean-coated spit bubbles all over her bib and she let out a huge toot. How freaking cool is that, to have someone love you so much that they get so excited they totally lose control of their bodily functions and simultaneously spray their meal everywhere trying to greet you? Granted, it wouldn't be nearly as cute if, say, your friends did that when you visited, but I can't tell you what a goopy puddle my heart melts into whenever Hayden sees me. That look of sheer delight in her eye, the happy squeals and excited wriggling is so unabashed, so honest and complete in their acknowledgement that I am her mother, her first true love, it just breaks and swells my heart at the same time.

I'm not trying to sugarcoat motherhood. This is a wonderful gift, but such a hard gift sometimes. There are days I am numb from lack of sleep, times that I'm a crabby wretch to my poor husband, who is also learning these new rules we play by. There are moments that I'm terrified - not knowing what to do for her, and instants of sheer frustration and the unending mound of work that now constantly lays before me.


Despite all the difficulties, tears, and challenges this gift has brought, I can't help but think how lucky and blessed I am. Every time I come in to daycare to pick her up, or get her out of her crib in the morning, or look in the rearview mirror and see that sweet angelic face, I feel just like a kid at Christmas. I can't believe how LUCKY I am to get to take that sweet doll home with me. To cuddle her up in my arms and bury my face in her chubby little neck and breathe in that lovely baby smell. To kiss her cheeks, tickle her feet, squeeze her to me and know that she is mine, and better yet, I am hers. All hers. I am her mother. The one God picked to guard and guide as she grows.


That feeling is why we do this, I feel sure. That feeling is what I yearned for over the years when I saw mothers and babies smiling at one another. That is the piece of my soul that has been fulfilled by Hayden, just as there was a piece fulfilled when I met and married Chris. I have been made more than I was, more whole by becoming her mother.

Happy Fourth of July!

We celebrated the 4th this year by joining the Jasper city parade in our Hudson. The theme of the parade was "Everyday Heros in America", and our car really fit the bill, I think. It is 100 years old this year and is a great example of the pioneering spirit of early America and a testament to our forefathers' engineering ingenuity.

Hayden had a blast riding in my lap as I tossed candy and waved to the crowds and Chris honked for the kiddies. Our description of the car surprised the announcer when he read that this vintage machine could reach 50 mph! (We even have the speed marked on our speedometer to prove it!)

Throughout the parade, we heard people shouting "Hayden, Hayden!" and saw many friends and co-workers trying valiantly to get our wee one to look their way. Alas, she paid them no mind, sitting quietly in my lap the entire time. Of course, as we rounded the final turn, I discovered why Hayden was so patient along our route. She'd discovered a pack of Sweettarts and was hurridly trying to suck through the paper to get to the tangy candies inside. Thank goodness I figured her activities out before she was successful!