Introduction

Some people have actually asked me to start sending out regular little columns about my life as a relatively new mom raising two children in a modern world. (Well, at least one person asked and I'm almost certain she was sober.) Anyway, I’m going to do it.

It will be a bi-weekly piece, sometimes more frequent, sent out to anyone interested via email. The letters will describe my struggles/victories as a stay-at-home mom, or some of the really funny situations I find myself in on a weekly basis, or sometimes they’ll just be commentary on the wisdom of bringing new life into this bizarre world in which we live. They won’t have large pictures attached to them or weird graphics –I think the file size will be relatively small.

Most of you are receiving this message because we’ve already exchanged e-mail and you know the kind of stuff I write. But if you would rather not be included, just send me an email and I'll take you off the list. I won’t take it personally, I promise. I would rather take you off the list than be included in that huge category of e-mail junk we call SPAM.

Barb

So, the thing is... Number 1

So, the thing is that sometimes life gives you exactly the answer you need right when you need it.

This week past week was an emotional roller coaster for me. It seems that everywhere I looked were reminders of the seriousness of life. I heard from a friend whose sibling attempted suicide. I talked to a new friend and she told me about her oldest child’s tragic death at the age of 21. My youngest child, Jane, turned exactly the age, thirteen weeks and one day, at which another friend’s child died of SIDS last year. As a counterpoint to all this, two friends called to tell me of their pregnancies and I was visited by a buddy from college who is pregnant with her first and just a little scared and pretty darn excited now that the due date is coming closer. Anyway, it was a strange week, a roller coaster, full of reminders of both the fragility and the tenacity of life. I found myself questioning if I’m really up to raising children in this brutal world and if I am making a difference anyway. And shouldn’t I be having more fun at this? My annual New Year ‘What Am I Doing With My Life? Why Can't I Fit Into My Old Jeans?’ Crisis.

So, earlier today, I decided to climb on the treadmill and get some exercise. Tiny Jane was sleeping and no one else was home so I put on a jogging bra and some tights and climbed aboard. About five minutes into my workout, Jane woke up STARVING and I peeled off my sports bra and sat down in the rocker to nurse her. I cooed to her and she pulled away several times to smile that blinding baby smile at me, milk running down her face. She began to fall back to sleep and I shifted her to my shoulder to burp her and she tucked her little silken head into the hollow of my throat. I just sat there for the longest time while her breathing slackened and she went to sleep, filled with love for this tiny baby and with gratitude for the blessings of my life. Marveling at her perfect trust and innocence and immense potential. Feeling her warm little breath on my skin and the occasional blink of her eyelashes against me. I nuzzled the top of her little head and tried to imprint my memory forever with the way she smelled. It was a rare opportunity in my life—the chance to be still and appreciate the moment as it actually happened.

I was just so overcome with the purity of that moment that I closed my eyes and breathed a prayer for mothers everywhere --those mothers who have lost children, those who struggle to care for children with disabilities, those who work to give their children better lives than their own. And then I said a prayer for children –for my own, may they always be held safe and whole and warm even when I can’t hold them myself, --and for children everywhere, in whom we will find our future and our comfort.

I laid my Smiley Jane down to sleep and took a deep breath.

And climbed back on the treadmill.