25 Years of the Internet...Gains and Losses

Facebook informed me that today marks 25 years of the internet being publicly available. To commemorated this anniversary, here are 8 ways that the internet has changed my life...in some good ways, and some not so good ways.

How the Internet has Improved My Life:

1. Blogging: AKA, Getting Published Without Going Through a Publisher. This was a game-changer. When I started my blog in 2010, I was trying (in vain!) to get a writing/editing job. Blogging seemed like the perfect way for me to get my work out there...and it didn't even have to be good. It's nice to have the instant feedback (and ego-stroking) that blogging provides. An extra bonus is the accountability of having a blog--it means that for the most part, I write more often than I would otherwise. Blogging also forces me to quiet my nasty inner critic, and just press publish already! Blog posts don't have to be perfect, and no one is grading me (I think...haha).

2. Connection/Social Outlet: Let's be real for a second: as a SAHM, I relish the opportunity to have adult interaction. Engaging with others on Facebook provides some much needed intellectual stimulation. Facebook allows me to view updates on my family and friends from far and wide. I've also enjoyed the camaraderie of Facebook groups, like my Yin Natural group. Those ladies have become like semi-sisters, in that they give amazing feedback on what looks great, and helpful suggestions for what could make an outfit better. It's neat to feel connected with people from all over the world.

3. Access to Information: How cool is it that if I have a question...any question, I can find an answer to it almost instantly? I am always amazed that no matter how obscure my question is, Google always has an answer.

4. Instant Entertainment: It still boggles my mind that like #3, I can just type in my favorite song, a scene from an obscure movie or TV show, and like magic, it appears!

And now for how the Internet has diminished my life:

1. Less Journaling/Writing Just For Me: Ah, the days before blogging, when I would write my little heart out, and no one had to see! I have found that I journal less often (but write for my blog more regularly). I rarely write poetry these days, and never write fiction or short stories anymore. It's hard to get motivated when I know that no one will ever read it.

2. Fragmentation of Communication: More communication is not necessarily better. Said another way, quantity is not the same thing as quality. I used to exchange letters with my long-distance friends, now I trade texts and Facebook comments and likes. I was talking with a friend the other day about how bad we both are at keeping in touch. We're friends on Facebook, so we can look at each other's pictures and Facebook posts, and feel connected and caught up. But the reality is that we haven't really talked to each other for more than a year. The depth just isn't there anymore.

3. Lack of Contemplation/Silence: I am an introverted, contemplative person by nature. But, I also really like people and communication. Since I got a smartphone a few years ago, the siren call of communication has almost drowned out any opportunity for contemplation. How can I escape to silence when the whole world is at my fingertips? This past week, at Andy's family cabin, was so refreshing because I had no cell service. For days, my phone was on airplane mode. I didn't feel compelled to check it, because there would be nothing to check. I felt calmer, and freer. Yesterday, I left my phone in the house, while I was watching Mr. D play outside. As I sat there, listening to airplanes fly overhead and Mr. D chattering "Pane! Pane!" as he pointed to the sky, I rediscovered that feeling I had had at the cabin. All I had to do was forget my phone, and I was transported to my own private island. I need these moments of quiet. I think we all do.

4. Increased Procrastination/Distraction/Wasted Time: This is similar to the last one. I can while away hours on my phone. Precious time that could be spent in so many more life-giving ways. I've written a few times about how technology can zap my creativity, and prevent me from being fully present.

Every once in awhile, I will catch Mr. D looking at me, looking at my phone. And my heart breaks a little. I'm not advocating for throwing away my smartphone (although I've considered that). But I know that I need to be very discerning in my use of it, especially around those I love. I don't ever want Andy or Mr. D to feel like I care more about the world inside my phone, than I do about what's going on right here, with them.  I want them to feel like they are enough to captivate my attention. Because they are.

Every now and then I think it's important for me to evaluate my use of technology. It's been said that technology is a good servant, and a bad master. I've experienced both the benefits and drawbacks of having access to the internet. Lately, I have allowed technology to have the upper hand. I want to return to a proper use of the gift of technology, and discipline myself to rely on it less. So I can get back to this little guy, who is growing up so fast.

Little boy loves to slide.

My list was far from exhaustive. Join the conversation: How has the Internet changed your life--for better or worse? 

Discovering My Personal Style: Personal Color Analysis

In a previous post, I shared a bit about my journey discovering my personal style. This week, I would like to share my experience with personal color analysis. Are you as excited as I am? This was so much fun.

About six months ago, I rediscovered the concept of Seasonal Color Analysis: basically everyone's coloring looks best in a particular season: Winter, Spring, Summer, or Autumn. Fans of the TV show Avatar: the Last Airbender will enjoy this video, with Uncle Iroh (my favorite character!) singing about the four seasons.

Back in high school, my sister and I read the 1980s book "Color Me Beautiful" and determined that we were both Summers. Well, a lot has happened since that book came out, and now there are several systems that have expanded upon this framework. Through my research, I determined that Christine Scaman's 12Blueprints Sci/Art system was the one for me. This system further divides each of the 4 seasons into 3 subcategories: Winter is divided into Dark Winter, True Winter, and Bright Winter; Spring into Bright Spring, True Spring, and Light Spring; Summer into Light Summer, True Summer, and Soft Summer; Autumn into Soft Autumn, True Autumn, and Dark Autumn.

From Christine Scaman's book Return to Your Natural Colours

Through self-analysis, I guessed I was either a True Summer or a Soft Summer. Based on the other celebrity examples of Soft Summer, however, I had all but ruled that season out (I look nothing like Sarah Jessica Parker or Jennifer Aniston). With my tendency to ruddiness, I thought for sure I was truly cool-based. I also preferred the colors in the True Summer palette, which seemed to me much more saturated and lively.

Once I decided that I wanted to pursue Personal Color Analysis (PCA), I put myself on a shopping ban. I didn't want to buy anything that might not be in the right color. The whole point of doing both the Personal Image Analysis (PIA) and the PCA was to avoid buying clothes that weren't the best for my shape and coloring. I was going to save money in the long run.

Three long months later, the day of my PCA appointment arrived. I can't quite express how excited I was. On the drive there, and then throughout the process, I found myself bursting with joyful anticipation. Like a little kid on Christmas morning, I guess. :)

As soon as I met my analyst Cori, I felt at ease. She has a beautiful, cool coloring, with silver streaks in her long honey blond hair. Her glasses were lavender. I was not surprised to discover that she is a Summer (a Light Summer) and a Yang Natural. She has this serene, cozy quality to her that really jives with her physical qualities.

Cori was thorough: all told, she spent over 5 hours with me to determine my season. For precision's sake, my street clothes were covered in a gray smock, and my hair was also covered in a gray cap. Cori wore a gray coat, and I sat in front of a mirror (like at a beauty salon), with a gray backdrop behind me. I remarked at how good I looked in the plain gray, and Cori agreed: "Most people don't look very good in that."

So incredibly excited: what Season will I be?

I was a little bit nervous, because I was meeting her for the first time, and I wasn't even wearing makeup! That's right, no makeup! The idea was to see how my skin reacted to the various colors. The drapes from the right season would make my skin look healthy: pink, smooth, and peaceful. The wrong season's colors would make my skin look sallow, lined, or shadowed.

I was a more challenging case because I looked good in Winter's black, and I could handle some of Autumn's warmth. So was I a Winter? At one point in the draping process (I think it was when Cori was comparing Bright Winter to Dark Winter), both of us were amazed at how good I looked in the rich tones of Dark Winter. It was clear that my skin could handle some depth and a little warmth. The best colors in that season were a deep blue and bottle green, the latter which really connected with the green in my eyes. Never in my wildest dreams did I consider that I could be a Dark Winter. But I went into the PCA with an open mind, so I would believe it when we had ruled out the other possibilities.

But once she compared Dark Winter to Soft Summer, we had a definite winner. By comparison, Dark Winter looked terrible! We both wondered how we thought Dark Winter ever looked good. It's amazing how, even colors that looked pretty good, were nothing in comparison to the colors in the right season.

So, we had narrowed it down to Summer: but was I a Soft Summer or a True Summer? True Summer was still in the running, because in other comparisons, it had always been the winner. One interesting note: Cori had several sets of drapes that only tested for warmth. She would pass back and forth from purely warm, to warm neutral, to cool neutral, to purely cool. Several of these tests indicated that purely cool made my skin look slightly red, while the cool neutral colors made my skin look pink and healthy. It was amazing to watch my skin transform from sickly yellow, to pink, and then to red. The redness was barely perceptible, but it was there.

So when we made the last comparison, between Soft Summer and True Summer, I knew which one would be the best one. Nearly every drape in True Summer was just a little too saturated/bright for my coloring. The True Summer colors took the attention away from my face. Instead of just being able to look at myself in the mirror, my eyes bounced back and forth between the colors and my face. The drapes in the Soft Summer palette, on the other hand, had a calming, harmonizing effect: my face looked rested, serene. My reaction was, "Yep, that's me."

This is still me without makeup, and with my Soft Summer Colors. Before this experience, I never thought I could wear yellow. It turns out every season has its own version. 

Cori noted that my phone camera picks up redness that isn't there in real life. Silly camera. ;)

I admit that I was a little disappointed in the result. I guess I wasn't as open-minded as I thought I would be. I think I hoped that something about me would have a little dazzle, pizazz, you know? It has been an unexpected result of this experience that I have had to come to grips with the reality of me. I am soft. I am serene. I am sweet. Do I have a silly, spunky side? You bet. Can I show that off through my clothing choices? Yep! But, I need to be okay with not being a Bright Winter or a True Summer. The whole point of doing this is to understand more about myself: my unique brand of beauty.

My Soft Summer Fan/Swatch Book

So, my journey is not over. I am learning to accept myself for who I am. And part of that, in a small way, is to accept that I am Soft Summer. Since my appointment several weeks ago, I have gone through all of my clothes, and separated those that passed the swatch test from those that didn't. After exercising discipline for so long, I went shopping a few days after my PCA at Goodwill. It was so liberating to be able to just focus on the right colors. I brought my swatch book with me, and before trying on anything, it had to pass the swatch test (the color should look harmonious with the fan, even if it isn't an exact color match). I saved so much time with this strategy!

I will continue to post more about this topic, as I settle into both my Yin Natural Archetype and my Soft Summer colors. I hope you come along with me, as I transform my wardrobe into the full expression of who I am.

Wearing my colors to a friend's wedding.

NFP Awareness Week: What 4 Years of Charting with the Creighton Model (NFP) Looks Like

It's NFP (Natural Family Planning) Awareness Week, and I have something really special for you on the blog this year. I've mentioned a few times here that my husband and I have been using the Creighton Model FertilityCare System to track my fertility/infertility and health throughout our marriage. I have also been teaching the system for the past 3 years.

This was taken almost a year ago! We need to get some current family photos. Credit: Josh Dietrich

My husband Andy is a Data Analyst by trade, and ever since we started charting four years ago, has been interested in mining my NFP charts for data. With my blessing, Andy has crafted a thorough analysis of my cycles for the past 4 years on his blog Philosophical Analytics. For those of you who are interested in charts, graphs, and data visualization, the first part of his post will be fascinating for you to explore. For those who are ahem...a little less data-driven (I'm in this group), scroll down to the section "Conclusion: Why It Matters" for what we see to be the benefits of using NFP. Andy has worked incredibly hard on this post, so send some love in the form of lots of blog traffic his way. :)

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For those who have been holding me accountable about posting regularly: I promise I will publish another post (about my personal color analysis experience!) very soon. And thanks J.B. for the nudge! 

This Week's Roundup: Jury Duty and a Baking Competition

"I'm sorry, everyone, I forgot to tell you not to come in today. You're free to go!"

Thus ended my first experience with jury duty. During this past week, I woke up early, fought rush-hour traffic, waited outside the court building with other members of the jury pool, sat in an unused court room waiting to be selected, and then was sent home.

On Wednesday, I was the last juror to be selected for a criminal case. For 45 minutes, we were screened by the prosecuting attorney, and the defense. It really felt like we were the ones on trial, as they asked us pointed questions about our personal lives. I was never singled out, fortunately, and as I was the last juror of the bunch, I was never going to be selected for this particular case. We were told to come back the next day, for another trial. And, as we were waiting in the damp morning air, we were dismissed. Just like that.

I can see why people try to get out of jury duty. You are committing to a full week of being on-call, and the most exciting part of it might be the complimentary coffee, tea, and hot chocolate available as you wait. It reminded me of gym class, as you wait to be selected for a team, or an audition of sorts.

As a stay-at-home mom, it really was difficult to find someone to watch him all week. Fortunately, one of our friends was kind enough to watch Mr. D in the mornings. Otherwise, I guess Andy would have had to do it. Not a great situation. Add another child into the equation, and it just doesn't make sense for me to do it again. Undue hardship, right there. I guess we'll have to assess the situation, should I be summoned for jury duty again.

In addition to my jury duty shenanigans, this week I binge-watched the first season of The Great British Baking Show, a competition of 12 amateur bakers. This is unlike any other competition show I have seen. Each of the contestants was likable, and fairly gracious in the face of criticism. Several times throughout the show, contestants helped each other succeed. This aesthetically appealing show features mouth-watering, extraordinary recipes. Best of all? All of the lovely British accents. Do yourself a favor, and watch the first season, available free on Amazon Prime for the next 5 days.

And, apparently, the third season of the show is starting on July 1 on PBS 9/8 central time. I'm going to have to see how it compares to the awesome first season. Anybody else with me? (Besides Andy, of course!)

How was your week? I'd love to hear from you!

Discovering My Personal Style

She wrinkled her nose as she grasped the jersey material, "You aren't going to wear this, are you?" Shame washed over me, and my stomach sank. She was classically beautiful, a Grace Kelly, and represented everything I longed to be, but wasn't.

Like a lot of women, I have struggled with insecurity about my appearance for as long as I can remember. And I have held a very narrow definition of what it means to be beautiful--in a skin deep sort of way.

Since becoming a mom, I have decided that it's time I owned my unique brand of beauty. This quest has led me to the world of style archetypes and seasonal color analysis. Several weeks ago, I met with an Image Analyst, and confirmed my suspected archetype--Yin Natural (Soft Natural in Kibbe language).

Through this journey, I have become more aware of what works and also what doesn't (and why). I may long for certain styles, but now I feel confident in leaving them on the rack for someone else to wear. I don't have to settle for looking okay (or plain Jane) anymore in the wrong styles.

I don't have to try to hide certain features, or pretend I have others. It's all about working with one's natural shape, and honoring our bodies. I want to look my best, and feel confident in the skin I'm in. I may never be Grace Kelly, but I will be me. And yes, that is what I'm wearing. :)

Here are a few outfits I've created since my personal image analysis (PIA).

In a few weeks, I will meet with a local analyst for my personal color analysis. I have my suspicions I am a True (or Cool) Summer. Keep posted to find out the results!

Braving the Park Alone: One Shy Mama's Tale

Today I went outside of my comfort zone. I went to a park, with my toddler son in tow, all by myself. I wasn't meeting anyone. I didn't know anyone once I got there.

Was it awkward at first? You bet. I am one of those highly self-aware people, and there was a group of moms who all knew each other, and very clearly weren't interested in adding someone (me) to their conversation. It felt like high school all over again.

But, I plunked my diaper bag down on the bench next to the sand box, and while my little guy played, I sat. I pulled out my phone a few times to check some texts that came in from friends (who sadly, couldn't make it to the park). But otherwise, I watched Mr. D and tried to look somewhat approachable (I've been told I have a friendly face, so maybe my efforts weren't that difficult).

Not from the park today, but isn't he the cutest? 

A few minutes passed, and a man, probably in his late 60s, asked if he could sit beside me on the bench. He was there with his wife, and their two grandchildren. "What is this area called?" They were visiting from Vermont. "We have a camper and we just came from Yosemite. Which one is yours?" I gestured towards Mr. D. "Is he your only child?" I nodded, and added, with a smile, "So far!"

Mesmerized, Mr. D toddled after a radio-controlled car. He loves anything with wheels, so I left my bench so I could be closer to him. Just then, a slender woman with a round straw hat came by with her toddler boy. She commented to me about the large number of people at the park. I agreed, and we struck up a nice conversation.

She was from Russia, and her son was just a few months older (and just a little bit smaller) than Mr. D. She told me how much she loved being with her children, two boys, one aged 4, and the other one 18 months. "I was originally hoping for a girl the second time around...but as soon as I saw him (her younger son), it was love. Sometimes, we don't know what would be best for us." We parted ways after a few minutes--I needed to stay close to Mr. D--but I left the park feeling content. I had braved the park alone, and came away feeling more connected with the world.

Mr. D benefited from the fresh air, sunshine, and the opportunity to practice his climbing skills. And this shy mama learned that sometimes it's okay to be alone, for it is through vulnerability that we open ourselves to new experiences, new people, and sometimes, new friends.

I Don't Do It All

Today I'm over at my friend Bethany's blog, Baking Humble Pie, dispelling the myth that we moms "do it all." I was so honored when she asked me to contribute to this series. It's so important for our society to see a realistic picture of motherhood.

You can read about what I do and don't do as a mom here. And while you're there, check out Bethany's thoughtful collection of posts. She is an amazing writer and homeschooling mom of five, with lots of wisdom to share.

Join the conversation! What do you do, and what don't you do in your current state of life?

Avoid the Comparison Trap

So you've discovered your tendency. Now what? Well, if you're an Obliger, like me, you might be tempted to compare yourself with people from other tendencies. For example, I oftentimes wish that I could be more like my Upholder husband Andy. Disciplined. Motivated. Awesome.

But that's the comparison trap, and it's hard to climb out of its darkness. I can wish all I want that I was different. But that's not honoring who God created me to be. As an Obliger, I am motivated by others' needs and expectations. I love to be helpful, and I'm good at it. However, I will never feel compelled to get my to-do list done (at least not without someone else's happiness on the line). If it's just for me, I can rationalize the lamest excuses. I haven't exercised for the past year. What's one more day? 

I used to get really frustrated with how easy accomplishing tasks was for Andy. He would shake his head, wondering what was keeping me from making the changes that I so obviously wanted. "You just do it," he'd respond with a sigh. Now that we both understand each other's tendencies, we can both give each other more grace.

So, don't waste your time wishing away your God-given tendency. Instead, work on mitigating its weaknesses, and harnessing its strengths. Because each tendency has both, and nobody (yes, not even Upholders) is perfect. 

Does you struggle with the comparison trap? How do you avoid it?

**If you haven't taken the quiz yet, what are you waiting for? And check out Gretchen Rubin's weekly podcast Happier for more helpful tips.

An Obliger's Need For Structure: My Stay-at-home Mom Dilemma

It's been awhile (almost two months) since I've last written. I know that you all haven't been exactly holding your breath since then, but it still saddens me that I haven't kept up with regular writing/blogging.

While I haven't been writing, I've been doing a lot of thinking. I am on the other side of my first postpartum year, and have had time to look about me, and take stock of my current situation. And, honestly, I don't like what I see. It's hard to admit that even when my depression has lifted, Mr. D is sleeping through the night, and even taking a consistent nap, I still struggle to accomplish much during the day. I clean. I make meals. I go for walks with Andy and Mr. D. We visit friends. Then naptime or nighttime rolls around and all I want to do is veg: Facebook, TV, anything that involves me sitting around and eating ice cream or chocolate. Blergh. 

I want to grow in discipline, and be able to exercise virtues readily. And I have realized that the missing piece for me is structure and the accountability that comes from it. You see, I'm an Obliger. Gretchen Rubin came up with this term (along with 3 other tendencies: Upholder, Questioner, and Rebel) to describe people who easily meet outer expectations (like a deadline), but really struggle meeting inner expectations (like exercising regularly). You can take the quiz here.

As a stay-at-home mom, I set the schedule and the pace for the day. I wake up at different times every day, based on a variable bedtime. Grocery shopping is usually done on Fridays, but doesn't have to be. No one is demanding that I dust or vacuum once a week. I can attend play group at our church (and I usually do), but the world won't end if we decide to sleep in and have a lazy morning instead. Part of me enjoys the flexibility of this life. Another part of me craves more structure and routine. I have tried numerous times in my adult life to impose structure onto my life. I've created daily schedules, where each hour is accounted for. I have a recurring calendar appointment to "blog/read/write" on my free evenings. But the siren song of Amazon Prime TV and movies drowns out my more noble aspirations. This would all be fine, if I was still in survival mode. But I'm not. And, as creative person, I need to be creating. I need something I can point to, and say, this is what I made. Otherwise, I languish. I mope.

So what is an Obliger to do? Create outer accountability. This is the brilliant answer that Gretchen Rubin discovered is necessary to ensure that Obligers are able to meet those pesky inner expectations. Once moved outwards, the expectation can be more easily met. Since I need to be creating, I will need to write on this blog, once a week. And I am asking you, dear readers, to hold me accountable. If you know me in real life, you can give me a nudge through text or phone. Or, to make it even more public, you can comment on my last blog post (I receive notifications when someone comments).

To ensure that I have the energy to foster healthy habits, I am going to sign up for an fitness pass at our local community center. Yes, I could easily do a workout at home. But I don't.  One of the classes that will be available to me is Zumba. Oh, how I love dancing! I know now that dancing is one of my happiness boosters. So on the same front, Andy and I are going to resume monthly contra dancing. Now that we have reliable childcare for Mr. D, we can go on more date nights like this.

But what about during the day? What sort of outer accountability can I add when I'm at home, by myself? It's about boundaries. One of the things that has enabled me to languish as an Obliger, is that I have so much time to do things during the day. So, I actually need to fill up some of that time with activities, so I can make better use of the remaining time. Sounds counter-intuitive, but it has worked for me in the past. I am going to set up regular play dates with local friends, attend the weekly church play group, and resume teaching Catechesis of the Good Shepherd at our church. I would also like to start exploring around the area for fun activities to do with Mr. D. Now that summer is here, that should be a lot easier.

Nap time is almost over, so I need to wrap this up. So I'll turn it over to you: how do you make the best use of your time? What strategies work for you?

Rising with Him this Easter

Today is Holy Thursday, and the beginning of the Triduum. Tonight, at our church, and at churches across the world, we will celebrate the Last Supper (and the institution of the Eucharist), and then walk with Jesus through the rest of His Passion. Good Friday is tomorrow, the day we commemorate Jesus' suffering and death on the Cross. Then comes Holy Saturday, while we wait beside the tomb. Unlike Jesus's first disciples, we wait in hopeful expectation. We know that Easter Sunday is coming. Jesus rises from the dead, and we believe we also will rise with Him. And then Lent will be over for another year, and we will celebrate Easter for 50 more days (Yep, it's not just a one-day celebration, like St. Patrick's Day or St. Valentine's Day. Jesus is way more important.) :)

So in light of Lent coming to a close, I want to reflect on what I hope to carry forward with me this year. This Lent, I prayed a Rosary (nearly) every day. I hope to continue this practice, even after Lent ends. It puts me in a more positive frame of mind, and guides my day. 

I also started wearing a Scapular, a practice I used to follow when I was still in school, but had unconsciously left behind as an adult. The Scapular, which you can read more about here, reminds me that I am not alone in my day-to-day struggles. I have Jesus to guide me, and I also have his mother, Mary. She has come back into my life through these two devotions. Quietly. Patiently. She hasn't reproached me for my absence. Just welcomed me with open arms, once again. I am glad to have her example, as I strive to be the best mother I can to Mr. D. It's also so comforting to feel her mother's love. I hope to carry my connection with Mary, and her son Jesus, as I rise with Jesus on Easter.

If you recall, I mentioned that my word or theme for this year is refuge. Honestly, I haven't been as mindful of my theme as I would like to admit. But, God has been (again) quietly working on my heart, and showing me his Father's love. What a gift this is! He loves us. I am loved! In all my wavering and imperfection, he still reaches out, and calls my name. I only have to turn to him, and run into his arms.

So as I rise with Jesus on Easter, I hope to hold on to the connection and closeness I have felt to my mother Mary, and to my Father in Heaven.

How do you hope to rise with Jesus this Easter? 

Remember, You Are Dust

Welcome to the Merry Dreamer! If you're new, hop on over to the "About the Merry Dreamer" tab above to see where I've been. I'm glad to have you here with me. 

Ash Wednesday morning. Mr. D sleeps in to about 8:30, which means that if I want to make it to 9am Mass, we will need to leave immediately. I sigh, realizing that it's not going to happen. Oh, well.

As I sit down with Mr. D over applesauce and cheerios (his breakfast, not mine!), I realize that maybe this is what God wants from me right now. He wants me to be right here with my spirited toddler. He wants me to die a little to myself, my wishes, my desires. Because, honestly, I would have loved to have gone to the 9am Mass. To start the Lenten season off properly, with ashes on my forehead as if to say, oh yeah, I'm serious about this. But no. I am sitting beside my little guy who has decided that being spoonfed is for babies, and he wants to hold the spoon and chew on it.

I think I'm being clever, and I get another baby spoon, so we can continue the process of eating applesauce. He manages to get that one too. Now he has a spoon in each hand, eyeing me, as if to say, any better ideas, Mom?  I start to wonder how long this power struggle will last: twenty minutes? twenty years? I head for the refrigerator and grab a stick of string cheese. Ah. Mr. D's kryptonite. He lowers one spoon so he can grasp a piece of the cheese. In a few minutes, I have both spoons, and decide he has lost interest in the applesauce.

We head to play group at the church. Lots of little ones this time. One of the moms (and a close friend) asks if we're planning on going to the Ash word service after. I wasn't, since Mr. D is now only taking one nap after lunch. But he seems to be in good spirits as we get closer to noon. We go, along with several other moms with their children in toe. It seems like this was the popular choice for young families--they make up at least half of the congregants. The service is fairly bare bones: a little singing, several readings, a short reflection, and then the distribution of ashes.

Pixaby

We didn't go to church for Ash Wednesday last year, so this was the first time I've gone since Mr. D was born. As I received the ashes, a bold, black cross on my forehead, the following words were spoken: "Remember, you are dust, and to dust you shall return." Yes, I am dust. 

And then, the same smudgy cross on my son's head, the same words: "Remember, you are dust, and to dust you shall return." This little baby. He is dust, too? The words, which I so easily accepted in relation to myself, seemed to echo in my ears. I slowly walked back to my seat, and, for the first time, understood the implications of this practice. We are all, whether marked with ashes or not, going to die someday. And while it seems jarring to place ashes on babies and little children, it is true for them as well. The elderly lady who smiled at me, as I shushed and held Mr. D? She is dust. The five children fidgeting behind us, ranging in age from ten to two? They are dust. And my little boy, the one who I would give anything to protect from harm? He is dust. 

We are all dust. And to dust, we shall all return. 

We may live many long years, and die at a "ripe old age," as our marriage vows say. But we will die. It is a sobering thought. And it would be a terrible one, if death was the end. But I am realizing (slowly, and sometimes painfully) that in giving up my semblance of control, I am handing it over to a most gracious Father. A Father who deeply cares for me, who loves my Mr. D more than I ever could (thank you, Carrie, for this reminder). By letting go, I am falling back into His arms. He knows when our time here is done. May we all be ready to let go when the time comes.

Pixaby

It Will Take as Long as It Takes: Reflections on the Past Year

I want to start off this post with gratitude for the overwhelming support and encouragement I received from all of you in response to my last post. As I'm sure you detected, I was feeling incredibly discouraged upon publishing the post. I actually hesitated being so vulnerable on the blog, but when I asked Andy what he thought, he simply said, "Yep, that's where we are" and gave the go ahead to hit "publish." So, again, thank you for lifting our spirits and surrounding us with solidarity. It was much needed.

Now onto tonight's post...

Today we celebrate Mr. D's first birthday. The milestone is bittersweet for me, as I reflect on the past year, and all the joy and pain that has filled it. I wish I could say that I am looking back with rose-colored glasses, that I can laugh now at those first days, weeks, and months. But I can't. Don't get me wrong, I love Mr. D with all my heart, and am so thankful for his presence in our lives. Yet, the fact remains that I had a difficult birth and postpartum period, and continue to face challenges related to my experience.

After hearing my birth story, a friend asked me if, a year later, I felt any better about my birth experience. I responded a bit too emphatically, "No!" How long will it take before I feel at peace about this time in my life? The lesson from this year seems to be: It will take as long as it takes. 

I have not posted a birth story for Mr. D (which seems to be almost a requirement if you have a mommy blog) because I don't like being negative, and I don't want to seem like "woe is me" all the time. (Otherwise, I might have to change the name of the blog to Moody Dreamer...haha). While I will save the nitty gritty details of my labor and birth for another post (which you can totally skip if you're not into reading about that sort of thing), I do want to share how it has shaped my motherhood so far.

Labor was long, and much harder than I ever thought possible. We took a Bradley-method birth preparation class, during which we saw a video of a water birth at home. The look on the woman's face as she met her baby stirred something deep inside me. I wanted that. That look of love, connection, strength, and peace. I hoped that those things would be the natural results (rewards) of going through labor and delivery sans drugs. I was wrong.

Most of the time, even with Andy or one of the midwives there beside me, I felt alone. No one else was experiencing my pain, and no one could relieve it. The room was dark, because I couldn't stand the light, but my soul also felt dark. I felt small, alone, and scared. I've never felt more scared in my life. The pain was too much. Maybe I would just die from the pain. But I didn't die. The pain continued. I kept asking how much longer. If only I knew how much longer before it would be over, I could make it through. It was the prospect of labor continuing another day that terrified me. Every time, I got the same answer, It will take as long as it takes.

All in all, from start to finish, my labor was two days, and three nights long. I want to clarify that Mr. D was being monitored regularly, and was never in any danger during my extended birth process. In fact, he seemed to be completely oblivious to what was going on. The little stinker. ;) 

Fear, anxiety, and distress continued even after Mr. D was delivered from my body, and placed into my exhausted arms. I was glad that labor was over, but the joy and peace that I had expected were missing. Now I know that this was the start of what would be a year of postpartum depression and anxiety. 

I alluded to it in my posts, and several of you connected the dots without me telling you outright. Some days and weeks are better than others, and there have been periods of time, when I thought it was gone. But, I have grown to accept that this may stick around for awhile, and I have determined to be very proactive about my care and recovery. This means medication, counseling, self-care, and prayer, among other things. I am reminded of my midwife's words as I was in labor, desperate to know how much longer before it was over: It will take as long as it takes. 

Isn't that true, though, for all of us? We are constantly in a state of becoming, and oftentimes grow impatient as we wait to reach proficiency and comfort in each new role. How long before I am healed of postpartum depression? It will take as long as it takes. How long before I feel adept as a mom? It will take as long as it takes. 

So, I am trying to be patient with myself, and with the timetable of my healing. And in the meantime, I am soaking in the soft, baby fresh skin, the chuckles, the scampering, clapping, and games of peekaboo--all the little joys of motherhood. Because I don't want to wait until I am fully healed to treasure these moments. Because if I wait, I might miss them completely. 

I love you so much, Mr. D.

Wounded Bodies, Wounded Hearts

What do you do when everything seems to be falling apart around you? What do you do when you have no idea what to do, yet you are the one who is supposed to have all the answers? What do you do when there is much too much, and you feel like you're drowning? 

So far this year has been full of sickness, worry, and pain. Before you say it, let me tell you I know things could be worse. I know that people are suffering everywhere. I know that people have lost their homes, their livelihoods, their loved ones. Just last week, my hometown experienced a major flood, that devastated its business district and damaged homes. So, here I am, in my home, with food to eat, heat to warm, and clean water to drink. So, who am I to complain? Good question.

I am weak. From a year of depression, anxiety, and heartache.

I am scared. That all that I cling to will be torn away from me, too. Family that I love, friends that I count on, a place to call home.

I am tired. Of nights spent awake, worrying about being a good mother, a good wife, a good person. Nights with a sick child, watching the monitor, in case his poor body would gag and choke yet again on the contents of his stomach.

In the past handful of days, Mr. D has been sick with a stomach bug, I am sick with a cold, and then Andy got the stomach bug, followed by my cold. To make matters much, much worse, yesterday Mr. D pulled my just-poured hot tea onto himself, and suffered a pretty bad burn. I had to wake Andy up from a nap, so he could help me attend to a screaming child, a soaked floor, and my broken heart. We ended up going to Urgent Care, at my insistence, and were given an ointment to help soothe his burned skin, and help prevent infection.

Mr. D is doing much better today, but I keep replaying the episode in my head. What could I have done differently? Why did I have to put the cup of tea on my place mat? Why did I use that big of a cup? Why?? I know that it's not my fault. Yes, I will not put anything on place mats when we're not sitting at the table. Yes, I will try to keep dangerous things out of reach. But, you know what? I am human. I forget. I make mistakes. And, even if I did everything perfect, just right, Mr. D, and anyone I love for that matter, can still get hurt.

I don't have control. I never will. God has been giving both Andy and I that lesson, over and over again this year. Becoming a parent has taken away that last bit of control that I thought I had. In The Four Loves, C.S. Lewis said it best:

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

Today, my heart is broken. It has been broken before, and it will be broken again. I can only hope that I can learn how to let the Divine Healer mend not only our bodies, but our hearts, too.