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Archive for February, 2009

I believe I believe

In the power of now

I believe I will see

If I let go somehow

To be here in this moment

Is all that I ask

In the heart of forever

No future no past

I believe I believe

                            — “The Power of Now,” Olivia Newton-John

First of all, I’m laying down and typing. I guess that’s not the important part, but it felt worthy of mentioning.

 

More importantly, the reason I’m laying while I type.

 

Delaney.

 

These days it’s always Delaney. And I mean that in a good way.

 

She’s the reason for almost all of the things that inspire me or move me or push me to act, write, express, think, wonder. You get the point.

 

But I’m laying down writing, which is just a sympton of this crazy internal struggle I’ve noticed and decided to work out on paper–well, on the computer screen.

 

First of all, background information necessary to fully understand: We are a co-sleeping, or sleep-sharing family, which means that Delaney sleeps either in her sidecar bed of sorts or more usually in bed with Kyle and I. It was borne of necessity and became something that we believe in and now part of a philosophy of nurturing a healthy attachment with her a la pediatrician Dr. William Sears. Believe me, it has garnered so many opinions–none of them elicited, incidentally–many of which seem to be based in the post-WWII, antiquated tough-love, “don’t-pick-the-baby-up-too-much-or-you’ll-spoil-her” mentality, for which I personally have no use.

 

Despite all of these opinions, it’s very okay. I got it. We got it. We’re not abusing our daughter or forming “bad habits,” quite the contrary. We are teaching her to love human contact, the most natural thing in the world. We are teaching her through our actions that if she is communicating a need, we are going to do our very best to meet it. And if we can’t, we will stay up all night if we have to, comforting her. We are teaching her that the world is a warm, predictable, loving place for her to live in. We are teaching her that it is okay to ask for love and receive it. We are creating a strong base for her to build upon. And if that is habit-forming, then we’ve done our job well. That was always the goal. 

We are growing a being. That’s our job. And I believe we’re doing it to the best of our abilities.

 

Because of the co-sleeping, she sleeps between nine and twelve hours on any given night.

 

Heaven.

 

We get to wake up with her every morning (and me a few times a night to nurse).

 

Heaven

 

I get to cuddle with her all night long.

 

Heaven.

 

The big but . . . she doesn’t nap well. She goes down consistently for naps but only naps for anywhere from 20 minutes to an hour (much less frequent). If I lay with her, she will sleep for one to three hours. Here’s where the internal conflict comes in.

 

If you’ve read my prior blog, you know that I have this thing with time. (Maybe my blog should be called “this thing called time.” Well, time is a big part of how we experience life, I believe, so I’ll leave it as is.) I feel this compulsion to be “useful” and “productive.” It’s never mattered that much before, because there was never anything more important than that to me, so I just pushed the occasional conflict away and did what I could do. Done.

 

Now it seems I am being called on to address this conflict and work through it. Great.

 

The laying down while typing this: because I am trying to lay with Delaney, which is time that I (1) absolutely love and cherish and (2) know is passing at warp speed and be “productive” by doing something besides just laying with her.

 

I’m caught in a hazy confusion of what’s “right” and “wrong” and who even decides. My husband is at work, working hard, and I’m home laying down with the baby. Is that okay? When I look at it through the narrow focus of her well-being and this being a very special, very short time, I think yes, definitely.

 

I will lay with her.  And I will enjoy it.

 

And  I might even sleep. So there.

 

But then the doubt creeps in. I “should” be

 

Washing dishes.

Mopping the floor.

Cleaning the bathroom.

Folding laundry.

Cleaning off the dining room table.

Preparing the taxes.

Washing diapers.

Installing the new carseat.

Calling friends.

E-mailing people.

Scooping kitty litter.

Walking the dog.

 

You get the point.

 

And I do some of these things on a daily basis (lest you think my kitties and dog aren’t well cared for).

 

But I agonize over it. And the worst part is that it’s not even an active agony. It’s this kind of nebulous anxiety that puts a haze over my enjoyment and productivity.

 

So, if I’m laying with her, I’m not fully present, because I’m thinking about all the aforementioned crap.

 

And I’m hazy.

 

If I’m choosing to be productive, I’m not as productive as I could be, because I’m thinking about how I’d like to be laying with her and how she’ll probably be waking up soon because I’m not there.

 

And I’m hazy still.

 

But worse still, I’m just not here in the moment. And that’s what saddens me the most when I stop to think about it.

 

I miss time, and tick-tock, it’s still going.

And going.

Here’s a moment.

And another.

 

I know I can’t ignore everything around me because of my little angel. But I’m having a hard time balancing the importance of being with her with doing other things.

 

The song lyrics I listed above are so meaningful to me, because I just want to be here and present. Sometimes I am.

Mostly I’m not.

 

My sadness over time passing is exacerbated greatly by the fact that I miss some of it anyway. Nothing sadder than watching something slip away when you’re not even able to enjoy it while it’s here.

 

So, that’s the conflict right now. I’m in it, and that is at least working toward being more present.

 

Nothing to wrap up in a shiny bow here. It’s a work in progress.

And it will continue to be a lifelong process.

All worth it if I can just experience what’s here instead of mourning what I never got to experience and then losing that moment too.

 

A lot to aspire to, but so important to making it all count.

 

 

 

 

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