Lightness

Oct 20, 2018

"When I ask people late in life to reflect back on when they were the happiest, they always bring up the years when their children were little. There was no sleep and no money. It was exhausting and kids were yelling and running around, but there was so much love. And where there is love, there is God." - Fr. Adam (paraphrased from my memory)

Caleb and I went on a retreat over the weekend to a monastery nearly two hours away. It is so, so hard for me to leave Sammy, even with loving grandparents and aunts that he adores, but we did it. And there was so much space and so much quietness that it was a little hard to know what to do with myself. Except that I knew exactly what to do with myself - sleep as much as humanly possible over the 24 hours we were gone. 

It's been seven years since I last went on a retreat - to give some context to that number, I was not yet dating Caleb. So a *few* things are different now. A small group of us sat and received wise words from a man who has been a monk for 40 years to help guide us into our retreat. 

Fr. Adam also shared about Mary and Martha - about how we often separate them and talk about how Mary was "holy" because she was sitting and contemplating and Martha was not holy, as she rushed about trying to complete housework. We try to separate them, he said, and it's ridiculous because serving God and serving your neighbor are two sides of the same coin. The sin of Martha, he continued, isn't that she was busy doing housework, it's that she was officious about it. (Officious: assertive of authority in an annoyingly domineering way, especially with regard to petty or trivial matters.) There's a false dichotomy that's been around since the nearly the beginning of Christianity that there is the material world which is not and cannot be holy, and there is the sacred, which only exists in the spirit realm. But you can't separate service of God and service of neighbor. You can't say that only Mary was doing holy work. 

It struck me that it had been awhile since I had read the story of Mary and Martha, but as a busy mom, I identified with Martha a whole lot more than ever before. I was relieved to hear that her work was also holy, though her posture may not have been. 

I later reflected on this - every day there are so many routine task that I do, and each of these is usually laced with anxiety. Truly though, it is such a gift to be able to prepare meals for myself and my family every day, to pack food to send to daycare with my son, to have dishes that need to be washed and the water available to do it, to have clothes that have been lived in and need to be washed to remove the food or dirt or drool that seems to coat everything we wear. These are all acts of love - and where there is love, there is God. Could I stop being anxious or stressed about these task simply by deciding to view them like this? 

 I remember a few weeks ago at church, Sammy desperately needed me to hold him. I remained seated in the pews, his head snuggled up in my neck as I draped him over and around my 3rd trimester belly as we sang:

Come to me

All who are weary and burdened

And I will give you rest

Put my yoke

Upon your shoulders

It might appear heavy at first

But it is perfectly fitted

But it is perfectly fitted

But it is perfectly fitted

To your curves

For my yoke is easy my burden is light
My yoke is easy my burden is light

It's true, I thought. There are a lot of what appear to be heavy burdens literally hanging on me right now, but somehow it's not heavy. It's pure love. 

Postpartum I

When you have a baby, there are a series of well- child checkups that you go through - 2 days after you come home from the hospital, 2 weeks after that, 2 months, 4 months, 6 months, 9 months 1 year, 18 months, 2 year and then it becomes annual. At Henry’s two week checkup, he was closer to 18 days old. Caleb has gone back to work, as his employer didn’t offer any sort of paternity leave. He skipped nearly all of my prenatal appointments, follow-ups with the high risk specialists, and the hospital tour (all things I desperately wished for him to attend) so that he could save up a full two weeks to be home after the birth. I had hoped for him to come with us to the checkup, but he didn’t feel like he could, having just returned to work a few days prior. 

I was overwhelmed by getting out of the house at all, but we managed to do it. Henry, as usual in the car, instantly began wailing. My nerves snapped and I also began sobbing, wailing, screaming. I just wanted my husband along. I just wanted him to be granted time off without worrying about how we would handle future sick days (his, Sammy’s, mine). I hated everything about living in a country that parades itself (quite literally) as one of the best countries in the world when it can’t even take care of parents taking care of babies. I was over it. “Today,” I determined through wails, “everyone else is going to join my discomfort.” 

And so, we parked in the parking garage. I got out and scooped up teeny newborn Henry who instantly stopped crying. I on the other hand, was not about to stop crying. I was tired. I was bleeding (for those who may not know, women bleed for many weeks after having a baby). I was overwhelmed. I was sick and tired of being without my spouse in a moment when I needed him due to lack of cultural support. 

I wailed and sobbed through the parking garage, my sobs echoing off the walls. “I will not hide this common postpartum emotion in my car,” I thought. I decided to skip the elevator and took the stairs -careful to not rip my stitches, crying inside. As I walked into the office, I dared the people around me to see my tears and see my pain. “I dare you to look at me and see what new motherhood really is,” I thought. The nurses hustled me back into a room to wait for the doctor, who met my eye contact and was unphased by the tears. He reminded me to ask for help. He reminded me that I needed to get sleep. “Stay as long as you want,” he said. It felt good to be out of my house and in the world. I returned a few weeks later and we started reflux medicines that changed our lives and brought us a baby who could fall asleep (sometimes!) during a drive instead of screaming. 

So, if there’s a new baby in your life, know that one or both parents are probably completely overwhelmed. And maybe scream crying at various points. And if you’re a new parent - I see you. I am not afraid of your tears. I’m angry with you. You’re doing a hard and great thing. Sending you a virtual hug.