Rośe Conversations

My weight transfers from hip to hip as my eyes dart over, past the bottles of wine I stand behind. To my little boy playing on the lawn with his daddy.
I'm trying to tell my customers about the delicacy of the vanilla notes that dance across the rośe they are tasting. How can I bring up casually that the cute baby over there is mine? Though I feel like I'm covered in it, that new mom skin. It isn't so obvious to strangers. When my baby isn't right next to me, I feel this aching, nagging desire to identify myself as a mother. As if withholding such information is being misleading.
"Oh is that your baby over there?"
Thank goodness she finally asked.
"Yeah, that's my son! He's 9 months..." But I don't stop there. Suddenly I'm emmbarassed that I have to bring my baby to work with me. How do I explain the anxiety? How do I explain that I didn't really try to give him a bottle till recently, and now it's kinda too late. I stumble across my words, knowing it's too much information for someone I just met. For someone who just wanted to taste some wine.
"He won't take a bottle, and he is a busy boy, so he nurses every hour or so. He doesn't really like food either. So all those rolls, I made all of them. So he just comes with me everywhere." I spill.
It's the truth, it's a simple truth, but it sits awkwardly in my belly. I feel inconvenient to most everybody, but I feel so deeply connected to my son that it outweighs the inconvenience. He's 9 months, he only drinks from my breast, and he is always by my side.
I finish pouring the pinot noir, the Avelina, and our marechel foch, and bring the subject back to the weather, and how big our grapes will get this year.
"This weather is way too hot, but the grapes love it! They should be grateful they aren't breastfeeding every hour."
It slipped again, another breastfeeding comment. My confidence withers knowing my ability to make small talk has evaporated.
They bought a couple bottles of the rose though. So I must not have been too bad.

Gentleness

My Moose is growing older, more sweet, more passionate, just as babies should.
His daddy and I are already stretching our minds. How will we raise him to to thoughtful in his actions. It's obvious we have arrived at the time when he can see, feel, and react to what we show him.
So we have a lot of conversations about how we respond to him. When he's fussy. Is he just fussy? Or is he tired? Is he just lonely? Or does he have an intense curiosity about that plastic bag, so do I need to sit with him so he can play with it safely while I watch.
I've found he's usually never "just fussy." Which is both wonderful and challenging. It means that I have to be more present. I can't write off what he's feeling because I'm too involved with my phone, or the TV.
It's so hard listening to him when he tells me, "I'm tired, and I need held," or "I'm frustrated because I don't want to play alone."
When I choose to become a mother I wanted to be a mother who responded to all of his needs. Not just, hungry, or needs a diaper. It's exhausting, and I fail at it a lot, but I keep trying because I want my Moose to know im there for him through it all.
He's got a intensity about him, and when he plays, sometimes he plays too hard. He'll pinch and scratch and it hurts us. Our immediate reaction is to yell "NO." And put him down. But we thought about it, and how does anger encourage him to be gentle? So we rationalized that gentleness begets gentleness.
We slowly pick his fingers off our faces, take a deep breath, and say "gentle Uriah." We can still play without hurting.
It's harder when the day has been long, and the heat of the day has worn us thin. We are the adults though. We must reign in our feelings if we expect him to. That's why I have my husband, and he has me. To help each other through our emotions. To take over when the other just can't. Uriah has us, to help him through his emotions because 9 months is too young to understand those things.
I love our little boy so much. He's pure goodness. I try so hard to think critically about how we are raising him. And what we are showing him.
I'm thankful for my husband, who supports me so I have time to think through my actions. I'm thankful he gives me time to myself so I can take care of myself so there is more of me to give. He's a good husband. He's a good father.

Best Love Story Ever

The longer I'm married, the more I understand why God bound my heart to my husband's when I started dating Zach.
The Lord knows that I was in no place to be finding my husband when Zach and I met. To say that I was a mess at the time would be an understatement. I was even worried about myself at the time.
I was at a point where I recognized something needed to change, but I was entirely surrounded by the consequences of my mistakes, and no life experiences thus far had taught me how to pull myself up by myself. I was lost in shame and did not turn to the Lord because although I knew he was there, waiting and full of forgiveness, I had no faith in myself that I would stop my behavior. Why would I ask for forgiveness if I felt like I was doomed to make the same mistakes again.
I never stopped believing in the Lord, but I was at a point in my life when I was learning the heaviness of consequences from my mistakes, and this is something my church never could have prepared me for.
So when I met Zach, I knew the timing could not have been worse, but it didn't stop me from falling in love. I was attracted to him not because he made me laugh, though he did, but because of his loyalty to the people he cared about. Ironically, it was that same loyalty that drove us apart, but more importantly it brought us back together after our separation. I also loved the sense of adventure in him, I knew that life with him would never be dull.
Honestly, looking back, although those are great reasons to love a man, I think I loved him for reasons I didn't even understand. I have no idea how those qualities about him that I loved were enough to keep us together despite our bad relationship habits, but I knew two months into our relationship that he would be the man I married someday.
Our relationship was fun, exciting, and passionate, but most weekends were spent partying, and having drunken arguments about things that would never have existed had we been sober. But we would sober up,  make up, and do it again the next weekend. I think everything in us wanted to "live the life" and stay "wild and free" but for whatever reason we just needed each other despite all of that. I think we can thank God for that.
We stayed in this pattern for a long time, until it came to the point where it just had to stop. We were hurting each other too much, for the sake of the party. We broke up. It was ugly. I couldn't understand how I was supposed to marry him if we weren't together.
We tried to stay apart, but we did the typical,  "together, but not together" deal. I needed him. He needed me. The situation was down right stupid, but looking back, it had to happen this way. Our friends and family thought we were crazy (they were right) and after a month or so of being together, but not, I just severed the cord. I couldn't do it anymore. I loved him so passionately, but our relationship was toxic, and it definitely wasn't headed to marriage at that rate anyways.
We didn't speak for one week. We simultaneously tried to lose each other in the party. We both failed. As it turns out, we did need each other.
He broke the silence and texted me. I was sitting with my best friend, who is the only person in my life who would have given me the advice that she did. It must have been a combination of her life experiences, how well she knew me, and definitely a little bit of God turning her heart, because everyone else on God's green earth would have told me, "no way, Carol, don't you dare go to coffee with him." But my best friend told me that maybe Zach needs another chance. Maybe I should hear what he has to say. (Dustin you seriously have an incredible wife.)
So I found myself drinking a soda at a bar at 8 pm,because the coffee shops had closed, with a man who I'd never, ever, seen even a little bit nervous; awkwardly shifting in his seat, and trying to make small talk. I enjoyed watching him squirm, as he tried to bring up casually what a horrible mistake he had made. How he was wrong in thinking you cannot live life for your friends. He said everything a very convicted person would say to bring back the woman he loved. He put his shame aside, and apologized over and over. We talked about what we would have to do to save our relationship. It wasn't as simple as pick it up, and dust it off. So we picked it up, blew it up, and then sorted through the rubble of hurts. It's really hard to forgive. It's hard to kick habits. We were crazy for trying to sort through our disaster of our relationship. But we did it. We are still doing it. We are better people because of it. It doesn't make sense why we are together if you had seen us 4 years ago. There were a couple key players, and a couple key moments that have been defining for us.
The most important thing we have taken from our struggle is humility. Zach and I apologize to each other so frequently. We have learned that it is harder to forgive than it is to apologize, and neither are easy.
When Zach asked me too marry him a couple years ago, I knew that our marriage would be rough. I knew we would have to work so hard to not just stay together, but to love each other so passionately to inspire each other daily. No marriage is easy, anyone could tell you that.
Now we are looking back at a humble 2 years of wedded bliss, with this perfect child to raise, and I can tell you with certainty, that I am a better person because of my husband. He has challenged me to love when I don't feel like it, to dig deep inside of myself so I can help him understand me, and to challenge the deep rooted selfishness that was buried in me, disguised as pride.
I am wrong all the time. That's ok though. Zach doesn't hold it over my head, or throw it back at me, and for him to love me that much, that he graciously forgives me, instead of using it as ammo when he is hurt. Now that is something. And that sort of love is what we didn't have in the beginning. But here we are, 2 years, and we have so much to show for it. We don't just stay married. We don't just simply love each other. We freaking rock at being married. We work at it every day, and are constantly improving.
I used to be embarrassed about where my husband and I came from. But this love is way too special to be ashamed about that. I am so proud to be the woman I am today. The wife, the mother, the daughter, the sister, the friend I am today. I have my sweet husband to thank for that. My sweet, sweet, loving, caring, more handsome than any person I know, husband. I love you so passionately Zach.

Bed time

Bed time is always interesting with children. I'm almost 25 and in my 25 years of experience going to bed every night (erg well except for those few all nighters at Corban) I still struggle sometimes to fall asleep.
So it's no wonder that falling asleep isn't always simple for my sweet Uriah. We do bedtime between 8:30 and 9:30 each day. Every night we take everything we have done that day to bed with us and falling asleep is the process of letting it all go.
Sometimes the tiredness weighs heavy on Uriah's eyes, but his little body can't quit tossing. He'll try nursing to sleep and his feet are kicking and his arm is waving a taxi. The day clearly took a lot of energy that he needs to let go of. Sometimes as he nurses the sweet, warm milk will be what he needs to slow his body down. As he lays close to my body I practice deep, slow breathing to calm my own body down. I find that most of the time, if I'm a mess, he's a mess, and so this deep breathing really helps me to relax my own body. My body relaxes with each new breath, and I imagine the oxygen seeping down all the way to my toes. I imagine that it extends all the way to my sweet boy. Just like it did when he was in my belly, and I really did supply him with oxygen.
At the end of the day, with all of the day on my mind, sometimes I feel like I'm going to just tip over the edge of crazy. As if so much relies on my boy going to sleep. And if he fights sleeping then surely I'll go crazy. Helping a little person fall asleep is actually a really big job. It's important for babies to sleep, and they need us to show them. A lot of stuff rides on bed time.
So on those occasional nights when my milk doesn't send my Uriah off to dream land, I try not lose my sanity. He only has 7 months of life experience far. And falling asleep is a skilled craft.
He will nurse and nurse and just when I think he is fast asleep, he will barrel roll, pop his head up and stare at me. Upon making eye contact he flashes the biggest grin, "Yes," that cheesy grin says, "I get a few more minutes of hanging out with mom and dad."
And we just hang out. Zach and I are the crib bumpers so he can roll around and get all the extra energy out that he needs to. We smile and laugh till his body slows down and he is actually ready for sleeps.
Very rarely now, but every once in awhile I will have to wrap him up and walk him to sleep while wearing him. I can't imagine how good that must feel. To be gently swayed to sleep, with your head nuzzled in your loved ones chest. Close, secure and warm. I'm sure it's heaven for him. Even though I count down the minutes I'll miss of sleep for myself, I know I'm doing the important job of teaching my boy how to sleep. And if you just have to be awake, Uriah Blaine, then you will be awake with the best company ever.

Hi

My poor little blog. I've always been a writer. I always have something to put down. It's been quiet over here though. I've been doing a lot of observing, perhaps not as much evaluating. Every time I try to write I end up deleting everything because by the time I'm finished I feel completely disconnected from what I wrote. But that's ok.  These things aren't meant to be forced.
I've been enjoying my sweet boy and all of his new tricks. He's so lovely. He's so fascinating. This time is so dear to me.
I've been wanting to work on Uriah's birth story (the out-takes edition) to tell you about the more candid moments of my labor (I labored for more than a day, you can imagine it got a little silly.) But it will all come in time.
Just wanted to say "hi" and I'm still here for those of you who enjoy reading my blog!

Moose and Me: finding the floor.

Less and less I'm finding myself in the throws of hormone concieved mood swings. It's nice to feel light and flowey more often than feeling covered in layers of emotions. I see the value in the time I spent there, and the time I will spend there in the future. It allowed me to do a lot of soul searching. I had to rediscover myself in my new role, and although that sounds SO cliché, it's true. There is nothing that can prepare you for motherhood, and if there was a way to try to do so I did it. I turned into a mother all of a sudden (literally one minute he wasn't here and another he was) and it's a hard transformation to process. But it deserves every thought, every emotion, every feel you could feel to be picked apart. Why why why. I allowed myself to delve into "the feels." And I'm glad I did. I know this process is far from over, I'll always be growing and changing, just like my little Moose does. But the heaviness of becoming a mom is lifting, because I'm getting stronger.
Something that has really helped me is finding the floor. Oh wait, that sounds crazy. I realized that I rarely and I mean rarely thought about what I was doing while I was doing it. I'd be taking a shower and thinking about laundry, dirty diapers, eating dinner, getting the car washed. I'd be playing with Moose, and be thinking about changing my clothes, getting out of the house, how crazy my hair was. Doing this constantly destroys my peace of mind. So, I find my feet. Or my butt, or my back, whatever is attaching me to the earth. I bring myself back to the ground instead of up in my head, thoughts racing, chaos up there. And I think about what I'm doing. I feel the soap in my hand, how the warm water feels running through my hair. When I'm playing with my son I immerse myself in his sweet face, I focus on how he reacts to his toys. Because honestly, I've never done anything faster by thinking about it ahead of time. Staying grounded helps me deal with worries. Instead of obsessing over choices or worrying over what people think about me I can see things for what they are because I don't spend so many hours over thinking things. It has made my life a little more simple.
Oh the dishes didn't get done? That's ok, I'll do them tomorrow, feeling guilty about it doesn't get the dishes done! Crazy right! So stop feeling guilty about it, and instead focus on what I'm doing. Wow this coffee tastes like heaven. That's a much better thought.
Oh, you have two nephew's birthday parties on Saturday, a sister who you would like to help move, and a grandpa who you haven't seen in way too long,  AND your husband has to take a couple tests for school? That's a lot to do, and I can't do all of it. That's ok, if I'm a huge disappointment at least I know im doing the best for my family. That's the worst case scenario, and it isn't that bad in the grand scheme of things. Figured that one out, now back to this sweet Moose smile in front of me.
I've been practicing taking deep, meaningful breaths. Oxygen guys, it's fabulous. I like to imagine I'm sucking in alllll the oxygen on my inhale, and when I exhale I slowly release, and imagine pushing all the oxygen all through my body, all the way down to my toes. I've been doing this more and more. It makes me fall asleep by the third time almost every time.
The last thing I've been working on is not taking everything so personally. People say some really interesting things to me. They make little comments here and there about my choices and instead of letting myself get offended I just assume they didn't mean to offend. Even if I'm pretty sure they meant to offend I just move past it. I wish I learned this sooner. I wish I learned it before I got pregnant.
Reading back over what I've written in this post it all seems so obvious. But these things are hard. I'm trying to be a more peaceful person, Moose deserves a more present mama, and Zach needs me to be happy. I deserve a peace of mind.
So far I feel like I can see things more clearly by doing this. I enjoy my little tasks more. It's lead to many more positive interactions with my amazing husband. It's working for me. It takes time to form habits, but it's worth the time.

Moose and Me Update

My little boy has grown so much in such a short amount of time. He is so wise, and so lovey. He loves to cover his mommy and daddy in drool drenched kisses. I love to distract him when he is nursing by smiling at him. Most of the time when I do this he will break his latch to smile at me, then bury his face in my armpit in bashfulness. Sometimes when he is really tired and I smile down at him he will raise his eyebrows at me and then roll his eyes back. It brings me so much joy. I know he won't nurse forever, and I am so thankful for this time with him. It really grounds me. Every couple hours we sit and take a few minutes to just bond with each other. I still have a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that some people are offended when they see it in public. I wish they could see it like I do. But that's a whole other subject.

I am still adjusting to motherhood. It's still so hard. Anxiety is never far away. I keep finding it in hidden places. Sometimes it hides right out in obvious places. When I try to ignore it I just call it stress. "Oh bedtime can be stressful." If only. What I call "stressful" is actually me obsessing over if he has the right diaper to wear. And making sure he is hungry and tired at the same time. And making sure he doesn't nap too late or too early. And hoping once we lay down he can fall asleep easily. And, and, and, and a million things that shouldn't occupy such a huge part of my mind that often do. I've been trying to deal with it. I practice deep breathing and talk myself out of it, and it helps if I'm thinking clearly enough to recognize the anxiety.

Then there is the guilt. I was reading somewhere about the guilt that us mothers feel. And it kinda struck me in the heart. Right in this moment I could list you ten different things I feel guilty about without even hesitating. It's crushing! My husband lifts me up and encourages me, but if I don't forgive myself then it won't stop. They tell you this motherhood stuff is hard, but that doesn't even begin to describe it. Loving that sweet little baby you just made? That is smooth sailing. Changing diapers and staying up all night? Heck, even that is a breeze compared to the emotional upheaval that you have to go through. I really need to stop feeling so guilty for everything. I need to stop feeling upset that my son scratched himself with those tiny little razor nails that babies have. Every time he sees someone when he has a scratch I feel my skin crawl and I feel like I have to explain it. As if whoever it is has their list of bad moms in their pocket, just waiting to add Carol Gilbert to the list.

It may sound crazy if you have never had babies before, and if you do have babies and you know how I feel, then I'm sorry you have felt this too.

My husband has been having me say out loud, "I am a good wife and a good mother" and I feel foolish having to say it out loud. Because deep down I know it's true. I know it's true because my baby is perfect and happy. And I love the snot out of my husband. As hard as things can get between us as we navigate through this new baby stuff, I wouldn't count on anyone more than him. He really does keep me afloat. I can see how God designed it this way. There is a reason why it takes two parties to make a baby. 

I DO love my job though, no matter how heavy it gets. I love being Uriah's mommy. I love being Zach's wife. Being a mother is challenging in so many ways, and I know God is grooming me to be just the right woman to raise my child, and support my husband. The process of refining was not meant to be easy. I know I'm going through this for a reason. I hope my (brutal) honesty will find someone where they are. These heavy things I trudge through have been trudged through before, and I know someone will go through them after me. And that's another reason why God makes it worth the while for us. 

My sweet little Moose is such a joy. It's undeniable that he came here to change the world of those who love him. I just breath in his sweet baby-ness and just let him change me from the inside out.