I do not reject your Christ, I love your Christ. It is just that so many of you Christians are so unlike your Christ. M.K. Ghandi
I am nervous, and possibly a teensy bit scared.
Tomorrow we are going to church. I haven't been to church since the incidentand personally I have no desire to return at this point but D really wants to go and feels he needs to go. We go as a family and to me that is important. I have been struggling with this for sometime now and have basically just ignored the issue in hopes that an answer would just come to me like in Solomon's great dream. But I'm not Solomon and God hasn't left any writings on the wall so I've got to move forward on my own. Sometimes I have learned in life that God answers you by saying nothing. And by when he says nothing, we typically don't like that response so we wait for something a bit more pleasant.
I am still very hurt by the actions of those particular individuals. If they truly strive to be Christ like wouldn't they want to seek forgiveness? They are acting out the very reason so many people are turned away from church. There blatent judgment of me for standing against the hypocrisy I encountered and then I had the gall to tell you, dear internet world. They disagreed so wholeheartedly with my viewpoint, they feel I am not the Christian I should be so much so that they have decided to "love me from a distance". How biblical of them.
I steal someone else'sthoughts as others tend to speak far more eloquently than I ever can: "I believe in God, but not in His people. I don't believe in the intolerant and legalistic (crap) that goes on in His name."
So I will be returning but hopefully not entering the ring for another boxing match because I would hate to have to win a war of wills of church.
Last night, I perused the aisles aimlessly during my escape to Target. For me it's therapy to walk up and down those aisles, all by myself, no baby to rush me out for an afternoon nap. No husband to rush me out by his "I am really getting bored" stance. Just me and the aisles filled with keepsakes reminding all that Fathers day is just around the corner, lest you forget. From the colorful display of electrics to the touching collection of fathers day books, which instantly caught me eye.
I considered writing a post about the emotions that bubbled up while reading through some of these quotes on fatherhood but that quickly disappeared as I rushed home realizing I had 5 minutes left to see the finale of American Idol, I didn't need to watch the other 115 minutes, just tell me the who the winner is. I completely forgot about the emotions that were conjured up until this morning as I routinely went down my blog list and landed on one of my new favorites where Mel so eloquently shared her feelings on Marriage and divorce.
First, let me say, I am sure I will do something that will land Camille into therapy in twenty years, if not sooner. Maybe it will be my knack for making up songs about my cat, or possibly my ability to get amused by her crying. I can't help it, she just looks so darn cute when she cries. As parents, we are not perfect, we pass our flaws down to our kids. I love my parents very much. I know that they never intentionally meant to cause me any pain or heartache, so let that be said.
My parents divorced when I was 7 years old. This was a momentous event in my life. I can still remember that exact moment when my mom broke the news to us. We were on Backlick Road, in Springfield on our way to school. We were driving a rental car as my Mom had just been in an accident. I was in the front seat, the interior was Burgundy. My Mom said, and I quote:
"You know how A and B's parents aren't married anymore? Well, your Dad and I are getting divorced"
I remember, deep inside I was relieved. I was excited. I loved adventure, even at a young age and I was looking forward to moving. To a new house. To new friends. I wish I knew then, at that moment exactly what my future would hold, I would've at least been a little more prepared. I won't say that the divorce ruined me. But I can say that it changed who I was, it molded me into a person I might now have had to be if not raised in that situation.
As an adult I had promised myself that I would not bring a child into the type of situation I was brought up in. If it meant never getting married, so be it. There was so much that I missed. I can remember as a little girl so badly wanting my Dad. Wanting to be like the other little girls in school, when at school plays walk out of the building holding their Dads hand. I wanted to be a Daddy's Girl. I wanted that so badly but it's hard to have that when your parents lived in different states and can't be trusted in the same room together. It's hard to do that when your parents aren't even better off divorced, but would have been better off not even meeting each other. It always hurt. A lot.
And now I have a daughter. A daughter who will want to be a Daddy's Girl. A daughter who is a Daddy's Girl and that just brings the biggest tears to my eyes. There is one thing that I have done right, no, make that perfect in my life and that is choosing my mate, my partner, my husband. I could not have chosen a more perfect Dad for my little girl. Camille will grow up being the light in his eye. She will always have her Daddy to walk her out of school plays holding her hand. And it will be up to me to make sure that we never like in different states. It will be up to me to make sure that we can be trusted in the same room together.
Marriage is hard. Marriage is about giving and taking. Sometimes, the giving is more than the taking. I am committed to my marriage not only because D is my best friend and I don't want to hurt him but more because I have a little girl that's counting on it. She's counting on us to give her stability and security. She's counting on us to not give up and I won't.
All the cool bloggers out there, they take cool pictures of their babies sitting up, smiling with glee at the brilliance of their cool seat.
I could not deprive my daughter of this experience. I might not have been or ever will be Ms. Popular but I had to give my girl a fighting chance. Unfortunately I didn't have an extra $40 laying around. but I did have a few diapers that I didn't need and did have a neighbor who desperately needed them. In return for my kindness (might not be popular but do have a knack of being kind, don't laugh. It's true. I am nice.) she gave me her Bumbo. It was gift and by the grace of God she's done having kids.
I was looking forward to taking pictures like the cool kids do. Her daughter? She is the baby that I described upon. She sits, she smiles, we are all happy.
My Mom constantly says that I have always marched to the tune of my own drummer. I have always got to do things my way. Let's say this is true, why should I be shocked that my daughter insist on not sitting up in her Bumbo. Why should I be shocked that my daughter prefers to suck on the Bumbo. I put her under the Gymini to give a chance to play with the attractive dangling toys, and you know what she goes for? Keep in mind that typically she lays, not sits, under her Gymini for hours of rolling and scratching and spitting and here she has an opportunity to see her toys close up.
Instead of sitting up, my girl prefers the view of her playmat from up above. It's quite unconventional. It's not what all the cool kids are doing.
But this Mama couldn't be prouder.
Keep marching to the beat of your own drummer my sweet heart. It will only lead you to amazing places if you allow it.
You might want to go elsewhere this evening because I'm about to have a nice big ole' pity party for myself here. I would suggest pursuing through those pretty links to the left (not to mention the flickr album for your viewing pleasure my dedicated readers). But, if you choose to stay, come have a seat, pour yourself a glass of wine (I'm on my 2nd so why not!), as it is now my new evening ritual since my milk dried up! No more healthy eating for me! Ha!
Do you want to know what I bought last night? Really want to know? I had to buy one of these. Now, ask me why I had to buy one of those?
The answer?
I had to buy one of those because my daughter is outgrowingthis. At almost 5 months old she is ready to move up to a big carseat, something I am NOT ready for. Everyone who has a child knows what a sad day this is for us Mom's. It means not only that your baby is growing, but the little bit of convenience that you had left is now gone. No more grabbing the baby and running into the grocery store. Nope, now I'm going to have to actually take the baby out of the carseat and because she's not big enough to sit in the cart, I will then have to maneuver her into the Bjorn. I love the Bjorn. It's my life savor on trips where the babe is just over the stroller thing. I have a feeling the love will fade real fast after the umteenth grocery run. And let us not forget about how great it is when she falls asleep in the car and then I can just carry inside and there she stays until she wakes up. Which of course for my girl means she'll wake up in five minutes but it's better than the five seconds she'll sleep in the new car seat when I try to bring her inside. And let's not begin to discuss how devastated I am about saying goodbye to that also which means I will now have to purchase this.
If all the changes above wasn't enough for me, this week Camille has made it even more clear how quickly she's growing. On Monday she finally perfected the art of rolling from her back to her tummy. She is eating 1/4 cup of oatmeal every evening. In her highchair*. Like a child, not a newborn. Gone are the days of little 4 oz. bottles. We are now onto four 8 oz. bottles each day. She's growing people. She's keeping up but I can't. These growing pains are just painful.
*Same highchair that was on Will & Grace's series finale tonight thank you very much! Now aren't we just hip.
I realize that I have no reason to complain about my daughter when it comes to her sleeping habits. Camille has slept through the night since she was 10 weeks old, by my definition that is. By others standards she began doing this at 6 weeks. She would go to sleep by 11 p.m. and go until 6 a.m. occasionally waking once or twice a week around 3 a.m. for a feeding. But by 10 weeks she was sleeping from 10 p.m. to 7 a.m. and to me thats what counts. Now, at 4 1/2 months she sleeps from 7:30 p.m. until 7:00 a.m.
Sounds lucky, huh?
Well there's a catch. You know how all the professionals say you should sleep when your newborn sleeps? That your newborn should sleep for hours at a time? Apparently Camille must have missed that speech and has never, ever slept more than an hour at a time. Recently, last week specifically, she decided that she no longer needs to nap, ever and it gets worse by the day. Just this morning she decided that she only needed a 5 minute nap but I needed a shower! So, I left her in her crib. Sometimes good hygeine trumps everything. She ended falling asleep but that was only after great protest. As I stood in the shower today I decided I would post about my frustration.
I would post about how I'm desperate to have an hour each day to myself to just sit and drink hot chocolate by the window.
I would post how in order to have time to me, just me, I typically end up staying up after midnight because that's the only time everyone is asleep and will be for a large stretch of time.
It was going to be a great post. Witty and full of slap happy jokes. I would bitch and moan and then you kind people would offer me great advice on how to get her to nap.
You know what she did today?
She slept from 1:00 - 3:45 p.m. giving me my time for hot chocolate, window gazing and im'ing.
I have nothing now. Except pictures. Lots and lots of pictures! Don't ever say I don't love you people.
It's very strange, this internet world we have here. I am lurker to many other peoples website, as many of you are to mine. When I can't sleep at night, I find myself browsing through links in hopes of finding a interesting site to read.
I love people watching. You can drop me off in a crowded area and I would be content just sitting. When traveling, and I have a lay over, I'm not to upset, as long as the airport is busy. I can entertain myself for an hour or two just watching.
That's how it is with these sites.
You go. You read. You people watch.
Some of the stories are funny and you find yourself laughing out loud. Some of the stories have familiar rings to them and you realize that you might not be the only one who has a strange obsession with cleanliness. But then some stories are sad. Some of the stories will never have a happy ending.
With Mother's Day right around the corner, I think it is appropriate for me to point out how much being a Mother can totally stink sometimes. No one warned me how I would experience growing pains each time my child would hit a new milestone. With each development Camille reaches, another piece of my heart hurts.
Last week Camille began needing more in her bottles. Six ounces was just not satisfying her any longer. I had been dreading this day since I began pumping. I knew once it hit that point, supplying her breastmilk would become a bit more challenging. And as if my body has a grudge against me, my milk supply has plummeted to nearly nothing. I came to the hard decision Sunday morning that something has got to give here. My daughter needs more food, food that I can no longer supply for her. I fight for every ounce that I feed her. I stay up until 1 a.m. just to get that extra ounce or two but the problem that has arose is that that extra ounce just isn't coming anymore, no matter how long or how frequently I pump. It just isn't working any longer.
I haven't really posted that much this week because I have been a little down about it. I feel like less than other Mom's right now regardless of how ridiculous that may sound. I try to encourage myself.
I try to remind myself that I gave Camille a great a start. Four and a half full months of breastmilk. I try to remind myself that there are plenty of babies who have been formula fed since birth and are thriving and are perfectly healthy.
I think of my niece, she was formula fed at 4 months. My sister's milk dried up. But she had a excuse, her husband had lost his job due to 9/11 and they were now living on a salary that had been cut significantly.
I think of my dear friend who's son had been formula fed beginning just weeks after his birth and he is just to amazing for words. But she too had an excuse. Her mother, her best friend had died right after the birth of her son. The sadness was just overwhelming.
I think Amy, and her amazing words of encouragement to me. But she nursed. She tried. Her milk dried up. She had no other choice.
In my hormonal mindset right now I have failed. I have let myself down and can't help but question if I really had tried hard enough. Did I really give it my all or did I use my illness as a cop out? Yes, it took over a week for my milk to come in. Granted I also didn't have enough energy to get through a shower without a power nap afterwards. But still, I should have tried harder.
So now here I am, with my newly formula fed baby who smells of formula spit up and has the worst diarrhea because of it. I don't like this one bit. I don't have a choice anymore. We've reached the end of the road. I know intellectually all that matters is that she is fed and happy. But what I don't know is how to allow myself to be okay with this new arrangement. To me, it's just second best. I don't want Camille to have second best.
Now, this will be the last time I speak about this (possibly) and then I'll try my best to let it go. But I find that when I vent here, I am able to close chapters to move onto better ones and that is exactly what needs to happen at this point.
I have lost a friend. Yes, I know, I tend to be very dramatic so many of you are sitting there reading this just brushing my words aside but this time I'm serious, really. I was vague about this whole situation last week because I really thought there would be some resolution and I didn't want to hinder that. But this past week has proven to me that the only route this will go is to a dead end, one that I must accept.
I could go on and explain word for word the specific events that occurred, share with you the emails that were exchanged. Actually, I started to and my eyes began to ache just proof reading it so I deleted the whole thing. Really, the cliff note version is much better anyhow.
See, I wrote this post that upset a person with whom I had considered a close friend. And when a close friend disagrees with you,they tend to just tell you, "Hey I really don't feel the same way you do about that, where do you want to get coffee?" I would never tell a close friend that I thought less of them because they thought differently than me.
Especially when it comes to spiritual things.
Yes, that really is the one thing that should always be off limits in any kind of relationship. I am realizing that this person didn't get the memo. Apparently that post caused a religious stirring in their soul so great that they felt led to take apart my beliefs piece by piece with their words. The poison pen letters ended with her revelation that if we had been able to speak about it rather than email, I would not have been so hurt. Well, we didn't speak, she emailed which is worse because I have her feelings about me in black and white. I didn't really respond with more than 5 sentences to any of the emails except the last one. That was the one that just angered me the most (there were 3 total in the collection of "Why The Princess is doomed for hell" emails) mainly because she felt she was now ready to just move on. Have a "heart to heart". Great. I am glad she felt better after just bitch slapping me with her words. I can't just move on. So now I'm stuck and hurt and feeling like I've lost a friend. But when I feel really sad and feel like maybe it wasn't that bad, I have her emails right there to remind me of how she truly feels about me.
So the lesson here:
If you are ever going to verbally attack me, don't put it in writing. You are better off just say it because I have a tendency to forget much quicker.
It amazes me that I've been able to successfully care for my daughter for the past four months now. And by care I mean that she has been able to grow both physically and developmentally. Plants haven't been able to last this long for me, so you can imagine my pride in my growing daughter.
D and I never took a class on infant care. For the most part, we've been winging it, Camille is a product of trial and error. Before she was born, I would wonder if I would do this right, and even how I would know if I was doing this right. On a drive back home from my Mom's one weekend, I went down my list of parenting questions. The type of parenting questions that are not in any books.
How will I know when she moves up a size in clothes?
How will I know when she moves up a size in diapers?
How do I get her on a schedule?
And of course I would stumble upon those questions that I never knew to ask. All these things, all these strange questions that even after hearing my all knowing mother of 3 sisters answers, I still was unsure on how to do this.
Once Camille was born, we brought her home and I was healthy enough to care for her myself (which didn't occur until her 3rd week) I quickly entered that whirlwind of motherhood where everything you do becomes quite a knee jerk response because at that moment you don't have the powers to pause time and contemplate your next move. You just shoot with your instinct and hope your aim was on. I think so far, my aim has been pretty close.
When do I move Camille from 4 oz. bottles to 5 oz. bottles?
How do I get her to not scream hysterically through tummy time?
Then there would be those question that I didn't even know had answers. Over lunch with a friend one day I was telling her how Camille was taking forever and a day to finish her bottles. She just seemed so bored and uninterested. Surprisingly her son had done the same thing to her and there she had the answer, move up the size nipple on her bottle. Could it work? Was it just that simple? See, that is something no one tells you. Sure enough that weekend we headed out to Babies R Us to the Advent section of the store and bought stage 2's. At the next feeding, she immediately went back to her fast and convenient 15 minute feedings.
I have found that I don't rely on books when it comes to finding answer to my questions. I have better than books, I have a circle of experienced good friends, who have been mother's before me and have learned the tricks of the trade. I also have friends who became mothers at the same time as me. We tap into each other's newly formed knowledge.
This system has worked so far. At Camille's 4 month visit on Friday she weighed in a healthy 14 1/2 lbs. And 25 1/2 inches long. I think everyone needs to pat themselves on the back because we are all doing a good job here!
