Journey Journals: August 2009

Friday, August 28, 2009

Good Baby?

I have discovered that there are common questions that are asked during pregnancy:

"How are you feeling?"

(I was usually feeling great)

"When are you due?"

(June 16...only no one told Laurel, so she came when she wanted to)

"Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?"

(No, we didn't...but, of course, we do now)

And there seem to be common questions asked of new parents:

"Is she sleeping through the night?" or "Are you getting much sleep"

(Since you asked, yes, she has started sleeping through the night...which means we are getting sleep, too).

"Is she a good baby?"

Okay, this one I take issue with. What does that actually mean? What defines a good baby? Is a good baby one that doesn't cry? (and therefore doesn't communicate her needs?) Or does it mean that she doesn't lie, steal, and cheat? Is the opposite of a good baby, a bad baby? And does it matter if she's good? She's our baby and we love her--that's what matters. Why are you so concerned about if she's good or not?

And, yes, she is a good baby!

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Overheard

Today Laurel and I rode the bus to and from her appointment to get her two month shots. On the ride home, Laurel was nestled into her sling, happily asleep, and I was sipping my vanilla latte. Two elderly women sat behind us. Here is what I heard them say...

"That woman has a baby."

(Are they talking about me?)

"Well, she's married--she has a wedding ring on."

"That's her right hand."

(they're not talking about me)

"Well, some men like big women."

"Yeah, especially Italians. They like them big and dirty. They like really smelly women."

****

Really? They said that out loud? I take no responsibility for the content of those statements!

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Broken

A few weeks ago I knocked this ceramic cat nightlight off the dresser and it crashed to the floor. It had been mine when I was little, and it was being passed on to Laurel, to light up her room at night, to create a glow of warmth and remind her that she is safe and cared for and protected. As I swept up the pieces I grieved a little for the loss of an heirloom. And I also grieved for the brokenness it represents—the hurts that we can’t fix, the pieces we can’t glue back together. Today we let a friend cut Laurel’s fingernails. It’s a task that’s dreaded by most parents, and here was an offer from someone we trust. But things went badly and Laurel ended up with five bloody fingers. She cried that heartbreaking cry—the one where you know she means things are not okay, not even close to being okay. And I had to work hard to not join her. Jon and I felt sick to our stomachs, knowing that we had handed her over to pain, knowing that we didn’t protect her. We know she’ll be okay. We know that most parents have stories of the time they cut their baby’s fingers. We know that there are much, much worse things that can happen to a baby. We know that we haven’t yet experienced what it really means to watch your child suffer.

But we still feel horrible that she has been hurt and there is nothing we can do about it.

Someone said the hurts just get bigger from here. How true those words are. There will be bee stings and scraped knees, broken arms and chicken pox. There will be disappointments at not making the team or not getting invited to the party. There will be failed tests, hurt feelings, broken hearts. And we will try to protect her. On some days we will succeed. But on others we will fail. Because part of life involves getting hurt, no matter how hard we try to avoid it. And in the midst of getting hurt, she will grow. And we will grow. And we will, as long as she will let us, be there to walk with her in the midst of it, to give extra hugs and words of hope, to help her put the pieces back together if we can.