Thoughts and Feelings, and the Lack Thereof

I have wanted to get back into blogging for a couple weeks now but I keep struggling with what to write about.*Gasp!* How can that be? Me without any thoughts to share or feelings to express? No way! It’s not like my life is devoid of subject matter. I’m definitely the only woman I know with my specific circumstances-wife to a deployed sailor, a full-time mom of three children, and pregnant with a fourth. Stories like mine don’t get told every day, you know.  And I’m typically more than eager to share my emotions with the world in an attempt to help friends and family know me better. So what’s with the writer’s block?

Maybe, just maybe, it’s because I spend most of my days now trying NOT to focus on my thoughts and feelings.

Last year was a very dark, dark time for me. I spent a little too much time thinking and feeling. It was easy to get lost in all those negative emotions- sadness, loneliness, worry, fear- and it took me a long time to pull myself out of the deep abyss into which I had plummeted.  The only way I manage now not to be thrown back down to that same dark place is, basically, to tune it out and turn it off. I had to stop living in my head. Enough with the self-evaluation. No more looking inward. Thoughts and feelings are nothing but depression fodder. Somewhere inside me there is a wife who yearns for her husband to come home, and a mother who is scared to death of becoming a mom of four on her own, and a daughter who cries because she can’t afford to go home to visit her family, and a woman who can’t seem to get over the loss of some of her most beloved friends… and I could go on and on... but all that is no good, you see. Because it all leads me back to darkness. So, over time and with some practice, I’ve gotten good at ignoring my thoughts and feelings.

You could even say I’ve got it down to an art. I don’t think too much, I don’t feel too much... I just do. I do a lot. I keep busy doing things. And there’s never a shortage of things to do. Do the laundry, do the dishes, do the vacuuming, do the shopping, do the cooking, do the bills and the budget. Take Josie to school and to cheer practice every Wednesday, take Jamie to speech twice a week, take Johnny outside to play, take myself to the doctor to check on Jeremy. Send James an email, send him some pictures, send him a package.  Go to the mall to do some shopping. Go to church on Sunday mornings. Go to the park on warm, sunny days. These are the things I do to keep my heart and mind busy. I have a lot of people say to me, “I just don’t know how you do it.” I just do it. That’s the key, really. It’s that simple. I do it because it has to be done, and I do it with as little thought and feeling as possible.

Reading over the above paragraphs I realize how sad I make my life sound. I don’t want you to think that I’ve become some heartless, soulless monster. Don’t send out a mob with pitchforks just yet. Instead of saying that ‘I don’t feel’ I should probably say more specifically that I have become more selective of which feelings I allow myself to feel. (It’s quite liberating, actually. You should try it sometime!) Over the past few months I’ve perfected my ability to live happily by focusing only on the good thoughts and positive emotions. I have found much pleasure in kindling relationships with my fellow Navy wives- some whom I met years ago while our families were stationed in New York, and some whom have only recently stepped into my social circle. There is great, great comfort to be found in the bosom of these kindred spirits. Also, living within reasonable driving distance to my two sisters who live in Northern Virginia has re-opened my heart to the satisfactions of family closeness. Being together for holidays and special events (or even just to hang out for the weekend) had become a foreign concept to me over the years but now that those things are within my grasp again I have relishing in every opportunity. And then there are my children- my shining light through everything. I continue to revel in the joys of being Mommy to Josie, Jamie, and Johnny- watching them grow and helping them thrive- and now to baby Jeremy as well. The excitement of holding this new, precious boy in my arms never disappoints at the end of a long, hard day. These are the things that I hope to write more about in the coming months.

So what have I been doing these past few months that I haven’t been blogging? Well, I’ve been busy doing. Just doing. Staying active. Living in the moment. Something sounds fun? Let’s do it! And, if by chance, I should find myself sitting idly and starting to think and feel too much? Well then I call up a friend and ask if we can come to dinner! Or I get down on the floor and play a game with the kids, or lie on the couch and wait for Jeremy to give my belly a nudge. These are the only thoughts and feelings that I want to/ will allow myself to focus on right now. And so far it seems to be serving me well. Life is good. Or, at least, as good as it can be for a woman in my circumstances.

The Misfortune of Feeling Fine

Since I announced that I was pregnant last week I’ve had several friends and family members ask me how I’m feeling. I told them I was fine.

It’s the truth. I do feel fine. And that’s the problem.

There was a moment, when I first picked up that freshly-pee’d-on test stick from it’s resting place on the bathroom counter, that was full of sheer excitement. Two pink lines. Pregnant. I’m pregnant! The excitement welled up inside of me and shot through my extremities like a bolt of lightning. My body was pumped so full of adrenaline that I felt like I might burst. In that instant there was no room for any other feeling except pure joy. I am growing a baby inside my womb. Miraculous. Too good to be true.

And then, just as quickly as that moment began, it ended. From the dark recesses of my mind came seeping in a painful cloud of dread. My heart sank. In that moment, I was filled with fear. I wasn’t afraid of having a fourth child. I have always longed for a big family, a home full of beautiful babies. This fourth baby is a dream come true. I wasn’t afraid of pregnancy or child birth or postpartum. I’ve done it all before and have enough confidence in my motherhood skills to know that I can do it again. I wasn’t afraid of how much a fourth child will cost. I know that God will provide. Even if we have to make some slight lifestyle changes, sacrifice a few luxuries, I know this darling baby will be worth it a thousand times over. I’m not even afraid of giving birth while James is out at sea because I know that I have a strong enough network of family and friends to help me. I’m not afraid to have this baby. No. I’m afraid to NOT have this baby.

I had the misfortune of losing two babies through miscarriage several years ago. Since then, the excitement of the early weeks after learning I’m pregnant are always tainted with fear. Fear of another miscarriage. I am scared to let myself be consumed with excitement, for fear of losing the baby and being that much more heartbroken in the end. It’s dark and depressing, I know. I wish it didn't have to be this way. I find myself putting a disclaimer on everything baby related. When people ask my due date I say, “If everything goes well then…” My mind fights the urge to make plans for baby’s arrival until it is sure there will actually be an arrival. I scrutinize every twinge in my abdomen. Each time I go to the bathroom I check for blood. I pray avidly for nausea. (Strong morning sickness has been my body’s tell-tale sign of a healthy pregnancy- both times I miscarried, I had been having almost no symptoms.) And, to be honest, all this worry is quite taxing.

So if you really want to know how I’m feeling, the truth is that I’m fine. Which is not fine at all. But I will be fine if I start to feel sick. Which is pretty funny if you think about it.

 

Despite all my fears we’ve made the big pregnancy announcement, and discussed baby names, and we even went to a furniture store to price bunk bed sets (so that we can move Johnny out of the crib to make room for baby). These things might not sound like much to any other couple, but for me being so early along it took a great deal of courage. And faith. For now I am living on faith, because faith can move a mountain. Matthew 17:20 says, “I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.” And I’m not asking for any mountains to move. They can stay right where they are. I’m just hoping for a little nausea- and with it a healthy baby. Is that really so much to ask?

How To Celebrate Your 10th Anniversary

My husband and I have been married for 10 years. Very few of my friends have been married longer. Off the top of my head I can think of only 3, maybe 4. And many of the couples I know are still in that coveted newlywed stage. So I thought that some of you might be curious, “How does a couple that’s been married for 10 years celebrate their anniversary?”And, as you’d expect, I am happy to tell you.

Our 10^th anniversary started out like any other day. I was roused from my sleep sometime before sunrise to the whispers, giggles, and cries of my three little alarm clocks. James stayed in bed an hour or two longer, as he always does whenever he doesn’t have to be at work. Once he had gotten up he graced me with a hug and a kiss and a “Happy Anniversary!” from behind as I stood facing the sink with my arms elbow deep in dirty dish water. I returned the greeting with a kiss over my shoulder. The morning progressed with changing diapers, getting dressed, supervising homework, putting Josie on the school bus, taking Jamie to speech, stopping at the grocery store, etc. All routine. With one exception. At one point in the late morning I had successfully gotten the kids settled happily at the table eating pancakes with cartoons playing in the background. I snuck upstairs. James followed. We locked the bedroom door… Ladies, take a note. No need to bother with expensive colognes or fancy engraved watches. Sex in the daytime is a very special gift! (*wink, wink*) There was no time for cuddling after we’d satisfyingly enjoyed each other’s company because from outside the bedroom door we could hear the distinct CLUNK, CLUNK, CLUNK of a child climbing up the stairs, dragging a heavy toy behind him. “Mama!?!” Johnny banged on the door looking for me. “Mama!?!” James sighed. I laughed.

Fast forward now to the early evening. We dropped the kids off at our friends’ house and made our way to our dinner destination, Joe’s Crab Shack. It’s become a tradition to celebrate our anniversary with seafood. We parked, and just as I was recognizing the rarity of not having to climb into the back of the minivan to unbuckle anyone out of their carseat, James ruined the moment by opening the automatic sliding door anyway. Habits are hard to break. But we didn’t have to ask for a high chair or a booster seat or a kids’ menu or a box of crayons when we walked in. We simply asked for a “table for two.” And smiled. Funny enough, when our food was delivered to the table it also came with a pair of bibs that the waiter helped us fasten around our necks.

So much for an evening free of baby gear!

Our dinner was a feast. Delicious food and great company. We talked about everything and nothing. We talked about where we think we’ll be ten years from now. James went off on a tangent about beer brewing. We discussed building bunk beds in the boys’ room so that the new baby can have the crib. I explained to James how proud I was that Jamie was doing so well with his potty training. And I told him a story from earlier in the day when I noticed Johnny making that distinct grunting face and asked him if he needed to poop. Johnny pointed to his diaper and then to the bathroom and ran to it. He didn’t have any intention of actually using the toilet; he just knew from observation that that is where kids are supposed to go when Mommy asks them if they need to poop. Yes, that’s right. We talked about poop at the dinner table. And it didn’t faze us. James gobbled down his bucket full of clams and then remarked that Josie sure would appreciate the shells to add to her collection. “You’re right,” I agreed excitedly. I took out a wet wipe and cleaned them off, wrapped three of them in a napkin, and stashed them carefully in my purse, cushioned between two diapers. “You are such a mom,” James observed. I’m pretty sure he was trying to make fun of me, but I took it as a compliment. I sure am.

After dinner we made our way to the movie theatre. James graciously let me pick the movie and I chose New Year’s Eve.  It was horrible. A sad, painful attempt at simulating Love Actually. James kept looking at his watch. I couldn’t sit still the whole time- I kept shifting my weight, crossing my legs, and shaking my feet. James asked if I needed to pee. But the problem wasn’t my bladder, it was my black stockings that were providing little insulation from the theatre’s chill. My toes were freezing and I was trying to keep the blood flowing to warm them up. Serves me right for wearing my fancy dress-up heels. Should’ve gone with the sneakers. The movie ended…finally! I was sure I was about to lose a pinky toe to frostbite…and we made one last stop at the store to pick-up some computer ink before heading back to our friends’ house to get the kids.

So after a quick visit with our friends and a few trips up the stairs carrying sleeping babies and one last meeting in the bedroom, our 10^th anniversary came to an end.

Now some of you might be thinking that this doesn’t sound like a very special way to celebrate a momentous milestone. No limousines or five star restaurants, no diamond studded presents or hotel suits. Nope. Instead we had a minivan and bibs, clam shells and a baby banging on the bedroom door. But here’s the thing: I can’t think of a more perfect way to spend our 10^th anniversary than to bask in a glow of our own making. We love our kids and thus embrace the cost and the mess and the noise that comes with them. We have ten years of devotion invested in this life of ours. I value it above all types of fancy, expensive things. So if you want to know how to celebrate your 10^th wedding anniversary, this is how. You should feast on the fruits of your own homegrown tree. There’s no sweeter satisfaction.