Easter 2013

This was my Easter basket this year:

Isn't that adorable?

Since it was a big morning at church, I let her go to one of the many and eager volunteers to be held until the sermon. It was the first Sunday morning that she didn't spend wrapped up with me at the piano and organ!

After church we came home and rested for a few moments, and took a few "first Easter" pictures.

Our girls in their Easter bows

We spent the afternoon with friends over a delicious meal and returned home exhausted. What a wonderful day.

(Just so I'm included, here's a picture of me from Good Friday:)

The best-laid Easter plans

The sanctuary was filling with people dressed in bright colors noisily greeting one another. I glance at the clock: three minutes until the service time. I bring my quiet medley of Easter hymns to a close and prepare the organ for my prelude. After the prelude ended, I would give a cue for the video to start as a service opener. I had spent hours working on Holy Week services and I felt great about the service we had planned.

In that moment of silence as I changed the stops, our responsible and proactive service leader had a moment of panic. (Silence! It must be my turn!) She confidently got up and welcomed the people, asking them to stand as we sang together. Oh no. This was not the plan. It wasn't even 10:00 yet! No problem, plan b. I quickly walked over to the piano and whispered instructions to my husband to carry to the video booth about where we would place the video later in the service. He turns to go and I head to the piano to get the songs started. Next thing I know the video starts playing.

I momentarily rested my head on the piano, frustrated and irritated. It was Easter Sunday, the most important day in the church year! It had been a difficult weekend. Our projectors were on the fritz. We were using new projection software that was not at all intuitive for me to use. There were the usual last-minute changes to be made. Changes which had to be made on the brand new Mac in the sanctuary, when I am most comfortable with PCs. The new computer had created several hours of additional work for me the day before since powerpoint was not available for use yet. I had slept a total of about four hours. I was grumpy and stressed. I was worried about the service and though I had just lead a time of prayer, I had not let go of the anxiety that I feel on important Sundays. It felt like everything was going wrong.

Then my frustration melted. I laughed inside at the most well-meant series of events thwarting my best-laid and second-best-laid plans. And I looked out at a full congregation of people about to stand through a three minute video. I walked on the platform and indicated for them to be seated. The video was compelling even after watching it multiple times (at least for me). And the whole thing reminded me, once again, that church is not about me. It is not about creating a perfect event. It is not entertainment. It is about worshiping a risen Lord.

I think that moment was for me. To help me let go of my claim on how great the morning was going to turn out. The words I've said over and over to others repeated back to me: the service is not about us! Minor errors do not destroy other people's experience with God. People generally do not come to church to admire how great and "finished" the service is. And if they do, they shouldn't.

Joy spread over me as I watched the video. I clicked in and became engaged in the celebration of Easter. As the video ended I said "you may stand" and people chuckled as they got to their feet. After all, Easter is a joyful morning! And then I played and sang my heart out and participated fully in the rest of the service. The band was exciting, the congregation sang loudly, the choir sang energetically, and the sermon was powerful.

What a great morning, in spite of me.

Alleluia! Christ is risen. He is risen indeed.

Three years

Yesterday marked three years since my mother's death. It was just another day. I woke up late, snuggled with the baby, worked around the house, did some work projects, visited a friend, shoveled some snow, and attended a rehearsal. All without a tear shed, but with her always at the back of my mind.

Grief doesn't really ever go away. It just goes deeper. It now feels normal that we don't talk every day. I no longer pick up my phone absentmindedly to call her. I don't cry every day or even many days. I don't even necessarily think about her actively every day.

But she is still marked as a favorite on my phone (I could never bear to remove her). Sometimes I look at Luciana and see her. I remember how she encouraged me when I was about to get married. I reflect on how she supported me equally as a violinist and as not-a-violinist during a dark time. I think about her last days as I watch my friend go through those same last days with a parent. I feel those familiar pangs of loss when I hear of others losing their moms. I get sad when I think about how Luci has very little family to love her, especially since my mom was so good at loving. I grieve when I think about how she'll never get to hold Luci, to know her. She's always somehow on my mind.

During my pregnancy I thought a lot about my mom. My pregnancy was a hard time for me, physically and emotionally. There was a particular day where I was really missing her. I couldn't sleep. I cried all night. I wanted to talk to her. I was mad she wasn't available to me. I needed her. I felt lost.

Then I realized what a gift it was to have been loved so well as to have such a void in my life. I felt peace. And it struck me that it was now my turn to love a child so much that they will sometimes feel completely lost without me when I'm gone.

So here's to my mom: let me be half as good as you were.

"Easy" babies

Today we had a "welcome baby" celebration at my office which my amazing assistant organized for us. Since Luci is often awake and happy in the afternoons, we thought it'd be the perfect time to have a little party. She would be able to show off her enormous smiles and everyone would think she was such a cute happy baby and thus think I was such a good mom.

I planned the day quite well. We slept late as usual and tried to recover from almost no sleep on Saturday night. Usually she eats in the late morning then takes another little nap. Here's where things started going wrong. She decided to stay awake during the late morning instead. I knew that would be problematic, so I went to the office as soon as we were ready, hoping she'd fall asleep in the car. She did. Perfect party plan saved! I intended to wake her to eat 20 minutes before the party was scheduled to begin. She decided to wake up sooner. Instead of the full meal I expected, she was only interested in a snack and wanted to go back to sleep. She snoozed for a few minutes then woke up when it was time to show her off to all the people. This was not how I had planned our party preparations. However, as we all know, babies really care nothing about their mamas' schedules and plans.

Having had neither a good nap nor a good eat, she was not exactly the happiest baby. She was awake enough though to be alert for everyone and impress everyone with her strong neck. She also looked really cute and received all the compliments about how pretty she is without letting them go to her head. We were happy to play pass the baby, though it came with a caveat: she's fussy, so you probably only have a minute to hold her before she starts crying. She needed a moment with Mama to become calm again between each stranger. Everyone was appropriately understanding and we had a really nice time. I saw some old friends and lots of people stopped by to meet our baby. It was wonderful. 

Once everyone left she had a full meal and took a short nap. Some latecomers arrived and she was appropriately calm and content for their visit. I mentioned to them that at least no one from the earlier part of the party would ever talk to me about how easy my baby is. And fortunately before she left, Luciana gave my assistant a sampling of her beautiful smiles as a thank you for the fun party.

"Easy babies." My friend and I were discussing this the other day. People who only see you with your baby while the baby is happily sleeping or otherwise content tend to think you have an easy baby. Or maybe they see lots of pictures of your happy baby and think the baby must be happy 24 hours a day and never fuss. This can make a mom feel pretty bad about herself, especially on days where the baby does nothing but fuss. 

I finally suggested that perhaps easy babies really only exist in other people's minds. Sure, some babies are happier than others. Some are even easier than others. But let's face it, all babies cry. Few babies really let their parents get a good night's sleep. Most babies struggle as they learn their place in this world. That's why they need us. That's what makes having a baby hard.

We were out shopping at a kid's consignment event as we discussed this. A mom nearby overhead my comment and jumped in to agree. Which makes me think this "easy baby" problem is universal. 

Luciana is a sweet little baby and of course we love her even when she is crying and we can't figure out how to make her feel better. Or when we're driving home and really can't do anything about the fact that she is hungry/uncomfortable/needing-a-clean-diaper other than listen to her scream for ten minutes. Or when, God forbid, we put her down and step into the bathroom ourselves. 

I'm really not complaining. I don't think she is a particularly hard baby. So far I think she is a normal baby, and on some days she swings opposite directions on the easy/hard baby pendulum. But on those hard-swinging days, I certainly don't want someone telling me how easy she is to take care of.

So there you go. Some pictures to show our perfect little baby cries. And right now, since she is quietly sleeping in real life, I actually find these pictures kind of endearing. (Don't judge us for taking pictures while the baby cried instead of trying to soothe her. We were doing both, promise.)

**This blog post brought to you by a rare 3.5 hour nap caused by an exhausting party.**

Did you miss me?

Today Roman stayed home alone with Luciana for the second time while I went off to play a concert. I was gone for over five hours, much longer than the first time. They had a nice time together but for some of the time she was inconsolable. She's had some rough times lately and she barely slept the previous night, waking every hour on the hour like a stubborn little clock. When I arrived home, she was still a little fussy. I leaned over and greeted her. The very moment she heard my voice, she stopped crying and became calm.

Sometimes dealing with an infant is challenging and it is almost always cause for self-doubt: Am I doing the best for her and for me? Am I establishing good patterns? Will I later regret the choices I make today?  Is this the right way to parent her? To love her?

Today she recognized my voice. It made a difference to her instantly. It made me wonder if she was aware enough to have missed me. If I had become important enough to her that her world seemed unfamiliar without me even if she couldn't understand what was wrong. And it made me feel like I've done something right. Something good for her. Somehow made her feel safe and loved. And even though I'm sorry she had a rough time while I was gone, I think I needed that moment.

We're learning to love each other, this girl and I.

At rest

It's been a lazy day around here. It's 3pm and Luci and I are both still in our pjs.

She loves crossing her feet!

She slept fairly well last night so I also slept fairly well. But we only slept about 3 hours the night before, and yesterday was a busy day, so I'm a little slow-moving.

She had a good night but was a little fussy this morning and seemed to be uncomfortable. I, on the other hand, had a lot of work projects to get done today. She disagreed. She didn't want to be put down for more than a moment. She finally took a nap by herself this morning as long as I sat on the floor right next to her bouncer. Then I had just gotten her to sleep for her second nap when our sweet next-door neighbor stopped by to meet Luci and visit for a while. [People love babies.] Once awake, it took another hour to get her resettled into a nap. Is it wrong to say that your baby is getting on your nerves just the tiniest little bit?

However, once this happened, all was forgiven.

How can you stay irritated hearing those sweet little sleepy sighs?

Two months of Luciana

Luciana turned two months old on her aunt's birthday, March 9.

Here are her accomplishments so far:

She is growing! She was born at 5 pounds 6 ounces and almost 19 inches long. She dropped to 4 pounds 13 ounces. At three weeks she had regained to 5 pounds 7 ounces. At six weeks she weighed in around 6.5 pounds. At her doctor visit this week she was up to 7 pounds 7 ounces and 21 inches long! She has outgrown her preemie clothes and some of her newborn clothes because of her length. She no longer kicks off her newborn pants in a matter of moments after putting them on because they are too big. She's still off the charts small but she seems so big to us!

She is getting quite good at holding her head up. The doctor said she was unusually strong and tested her neck strength several times to marvel at it. She also loves to practice standing with her strong legs.

She goes potty on demand. Or so it seems. (More on that later.)

She smiles. Beautiful wonderful little smiles. Tonight I had my hand on her chest while she was falling asleep. All of a sudden I noticed her chest was rising and falling unusually fast. I paid extra attention just in case she was having trouble. Then she smiled and softly vocalized with the rapid breath and I realized it was dreamy laughter! We're looking forward to more of those giggles. She also makes very serious faces and gets little worry lines on her nose and forehead. (She gets that from her mama.)

She goes to work at the church with me three days a week and spends most of the time there in my Moby wrap. On Sunday mornings, she sleeps comfortably through all the musical parts of the service and wakes up crying wanting to eat during the sermon. (Typical.)

This is her favorite place to sleep.

Night times are still tricky. She often likes to be awake at night. She doesn't much like the bed we have for her. She is getting a bit of reflux that many babies get around this age, so some nights (like last night) she is quite uncomfortable lying down, and the only way for her (and me) to get any sleep is for her to sleep on my chest. I don't mind sitting up with her until she feels comfy enough to fall asleep though. That's what I'm here for right now.

Her most exciting moment this month was meeting Granddaddy. I'd been looking forward to his visit ever since she was born! It was a wonderful weekend!

Happy two months, Luz.

Two months of motherhood. I'm still getting used to it.



One month of Luciana

Luci turned one month old on February 9. Let's see what I can remember.

We spent one week in the hospital. Three weeks at home. For the first two weeks at home I slept upright with her skin-to-skin on my chest. The hospital made us so paranoid about her temperature regulation that I didn't feel safe any other way. At three weeks old my back was killing me so we graduated to trying to get her to sleep in her bed! (We're still working on that.)

She also had her first bath just after turning one month old. We had put it off until her temperature problems were well behind us. She loved it.

She started waking up from her sleepiness and making eye contact.

We saw lots of dreamy smiles, the kind that are supposedly an endearing reflex to keep us from abandoning our babies. Or maybe she had lots of marvelous dreams about milk. Her most common awake face was her "oooo" face, with her mouth shaped into a perfect O. It was hard to capture, but this is kind of it:

Luci met her first family member! My niece came for a quick visit from college. It was great to see her.

We had lots of outings in her first month. I went back to work at the church when she was 3 weeks old, and also started going in to my office job once a week. We went to each of our doctors multiple times, and got together with some friends at the mall. We had several visitors and yummy meals from friends at our church. Mostly we stayed alone at home snuggling on the couch. It was pretty wonderful.

Write me a book

I used to keep a blog. (I wouldn't say I was good at it.) It is sadly lost forever now. In it, I chronicled my life from January 2007 until June 2008, mostly for an audience of one: my mother. During that time I spent seven months in Argentina, met my husband, brought him to the US, and married him. It was also during that time that my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. She died in March 2010.

(Here I pause, because almost three years later, that sentence still brings surprisingly ready tears to my eyes.)

We had the blessing of spending lots of time with her those last few years. She would come stay with us for a month at a time and we loved sharing our newlywed life with her. When we drove her back and forth from PA she would stay awake with me and tell me her stories. Stories I'd never heard before. Stories that my forgetful mind has since wiped away, leaving only the warm memory of those precious times. I cherished finding my mom in story mode and hearing beautiful nuggets about her life, my childhood, and her dreams. Her nostalgic happiness was so beautiful.

My mom was a great baby-lover and as a foster mom took care of dozens of other people's babies. She was my go-to expert when I had struggles in my baby-sitting jobs. She knew everything and always had the best advice.

When my mom first told me her cancer had metastasized in August 2007, I looked at Roman (we had just started dating) with a huge lump in my throat and told him that I needed to get married and have babies immediately. (No pressure, new boyfriend.) The hardest part of her dying was knowing that I would maybe one day become a mom without her help. It seemed impossible to reconcile and it was what made me most angry at death and most jealous of my siblings. After all, some of their children were teenagers. Their children had had a grandmother. They lived with her. They knew her. They fought with her. They loved her. My children were still stars in the sky.

As we grew nearer to the reality of her death, I got bold. I started begging. Mom, write me a book. You have to write down everything you know about raising a child. I need your advice. Please write it down. Anything, something. I need all that is in your head down on paper to help me through it. Please do it. Write me a book.

It was selfish of me. Childish. She was too sick. Too tired. Too in her own moment of her own reflections at the end of her own life.

Through my pregnancy I thought of my mom a lot. I despaired again about having a baby without her help. But all of a sudden just now I remembered what her response was of my request: You'll know what to do. You'll be a good mom. You won't need a book. Love your baby.

I have a terrible memory. My sister is constantly telling me stories about growing up that I just can't remember. I want to live my life so richly that I have too many wonderful memories to keep stored away. I want to savor every moment of my life, but I'm afraid I'll have no stories to tell at the end. So maybe if I am faithful to this blog, maybe one day I'll again have an audience of one. The one I'm watching sleep in my arms as I type this.

Mom, write me a book.

This is page one.