Jason and I recently discovered that Eliana's hearing loss is very likely due to a genetic condition she inherited from us. This shift from "random unexplainable hearing loss" to "inherited condition" is an overwhelming one. For the first time I have to consider the potential risk of any future children inheriting the same condition, and whether there's a level of responsibility I have to adhere to in terms of choosing not to pass this on. I'm grieved, I'm angry, I feel sick.
If it weren't for our advances in terms of testing now a days (yes I'm ranting about technology again, sit tight), it would never have occurred to me that Eliana's loss was anything more than a random loss. Now I have words like "mutation" and "deficiency" and "abnormality" running through my head, and it suddenly feels like my perfect little girl lives under a heading that makes her less valuable, or less acceptable than everyone else. The language of it makes me feel as if our genes our "tainted", and in today's age where genetic pre-screening is a possibility in utero so that deficiencies can be caught and possibly terminated early, I'm battling against the suffocating darkness of a cultural message that might see her genetic defect as something that should have been weeded out.
This is where information does not feel like power, it feels terrifying, suddenly I'm to choose whether it's ethically responsible for us to have another child, instead of leaving this decision up to God.
After writing the above paragraphs, Jason walked into the room, seeing my tears and distress he said this: "Laura, God is wildly creative. He shapes and forms us as expressions of that creativity. Who are we to stunt His creativity by trying to weed out the very characteristics that embody it? Eliana is a beautiful expression his masterful work, she is exactly who He intended her to be, and should He gift us with more children, they will be exactly who He intends them to be."
Sigh... Yes. She is exactly the Eliana He intended her to be, and I sit in reverent awe as I witness His great creativity at work. My heart moves away from "defect" and towards "creation" and I feel... peace... for now.
Thursday, 19 March 2015
Monday, 2 March 2015
Marital Satisfaction
Jason and I are both pretty passionate people, so over the last 5 and half years of marriage we've both intensely loved and intensely disliked one another. Emotion has never been in short supply, and while that meant our fights have been intense, it's also meant our love for one another has been deep and in abundance.
Last night, after Eliana went to bed, I stared across the room at Jason and for the first time didn't feel much at all. Well, distant, disconnected, I suppose that's how I felt. I started trying to figure out how it happened, it felt like just a few weeks ago our adoration for our daughter and the flood of visitors was leaving us both exhilirated and content to be surrounded by so much love. So what is with this nothingness I feel?
It's like somehow between the end of my mat leave, keeping up with friends and family, the constant swapping between one of us at home with Eliana and the other at work I didn't even notice the bond between us start to drain away. I've often envied people who's emotions are a little more level and steady than my own, but I must say it feels pretty awful, and scary, to feel nothing.
Suddenly I have this chart on marital satisfaction from one of my undergrad psych classes come to my mind: the steady rise during the beginning of marriage and then the slow decline to the zero line once kids come along, only to recover again if the couple makes it the 20 years that result in kids starting to move out. That chart scared me then, and even more now.
If you're one of our parents, I wouldn't worry too much about us just yet, knowing Jason and I, we're likely to have a long, in depth conversation about this and come out the other end feeling closer and more committed to strengthening our marriage. I write this because it's new, and scary, and one of those things that you're told will happen when you have kids, but that I don't really want to accept as inevitable. I see this as one of the many moments where I am reminded that love is a choice, and I can choose to keep working on our bond, even when the emotions aren't there. It's pretty easy to consistently pour out love on our daughter every moment she's awake, I'm biologically wired to do so, but in this new season I'm realizing that consistently pouring love into Jason requires more intention than it used to. I guess that's why there's a consistent finding that marital happiness declines after children, it takes a lot more work, sacrifice, and choice to keep it up.
New parents have this bad reputation of "disappearing" from their social circles once they have a baby. It's true, having a baby makes one want to stay close to home much more often, however, instead of working so hard to prove that stereotype wrong, I may need to embrace it a bit more as a means of spending more one on one time on my marriage. So friends, beware, I may be becoming "one of those people" that can't do as much as I used to, so that I can keep our love running strong even when the feelings aren't there.
Last night, after Eliana went to bed, I stared across the room at Jason and for the first time didn't feel much at all. Well, distant, disconnected, I suppose that's how I felt. I started trying to figure out how it happened, it felt like just a few weeks ago our adoration for our daughter and the flood of visitors was leaving us both exhilirated and content to be surrounded by so much love. So what is with this nothingness I feel?
It's like somehow between the end of my mat leave, keeping up with friends and family, the constant swapping between one of us at home with Eliana and the other at work I didn't even notice the bond between us start to drain away. I've often envied people who's emotions are a little more level and steady than my own, but I must say it feels pretty awful, and scary, to feel nothing.
Suddenly I have this chart on marital satisfaction from one of my undergrad psych classes come to my mind: the steady rise during the beginning of marriage and then the slow decline to the zero line once kids come along, only to recover again if the couple makes it the 20 years that result in kids starting to move out. That chart scared me then, and even more now.
If you're one of our parents, I wouldn't worry too much about us just yet, knowing Jason and I, we're likely to have a long, in depth conversation about this and come out the other end feeling closer and more committed to strengthening our marriage. I write this because it's new, and scary, and one of those things that you're told will happen when you have kids, but that I don't really want to accept as inevitable. I see this as one of the many moments where I am reminded that love is a choice, and I can choose to keep working on our bond, even when the emotions aren't there. It's pretty easy to consistently pour out love on our daughter every moment she's awake, I'm biologically wired to do so, but in this new season I'm realizing that consistently pouring love into Jason requires more intention than it used to. I guess that's why there's a consistent finding that marital happiness declines after children, it takes a lot more work, sacrifice, and choice to keep it up.
New parents have this bad reputation of "disappearing" from their social circles once they have a baby. It's true, having a baby makes one want to stay close to home much more often, however, instead of working so hard to prove that stereotype wrong, I may need to embrace it a bit more as a means of spending more one on one time on my marriage. So friends, beware, I may be becoming "one of those people" that can't do as much as I used to, so that I can keep our love running strong even when the feelings aren't there.
Friday, 20 February 2015
Does it get easier?
Tomorrow I start my second week back to work, and this transition has been about what I anticipated. Tears as I left my house, tears as I walked into my office, tears every time I spoke about missing Eliana, and then incredible meaning, joy and energy as I met with clients.
I've been slowly finding the words for the grief I've felt in response to the three 6 hour chunks of time I now spend away from my baby each week. It feels un-natural, like physically unnatural, to be separated. I find myself angry with technology - if it weren't for the invention of my electric breast pump, then I would not be physiologically capable of spending so much time away from her. Technology has enabled me to endure an unnatural length of time away from my little one. On top of that, I didn't realize how much joy, and meaning I was getting out of the simple act of feeding, until I found myself facing a rather immense grief over the loss. This separation feels wrong on so many levels, despite the fact that I have so many intellectual reasons for my return to work being right.
This week has been confusing, the intensity of my emotions could easily make us as a family question whether I've made a mistake in returning so soon. While another part of me is so thoroughly enjoying the return that it's easy to see the goodness of this decision.
I've been able to spend these last three full days with Eliana, and they have been so refreshing to my soul. Getting to hold and play and feed and squeeze her is helping heal the woundedness I felt in my distance from her. And as I sit here on the edge of starting the wounding and healing cycle all over again this week, I honestly feel incredibly overwhelmed to watch this cycle play out on repeat for an indefinable amount of time. To foresee the weeks and months of grief seems so unmanageable. I know so many of you would want to let me know "it gets better", "it gets easier" and I can't help but wonder " in what way?" Does it get easier because I get better at shutting out the grief, and those "wrong" feelings? Does it get better because I get too busy to let myself feel, or worry, or miss? Does it get better because I just accept this is how life is?
Please tell me there's a better option, a better way that it gets better to feel this torn-ness between my intense love for my daughter and my deep love for my work.
I'd like to know that it gets better, in a better way than I can imagine now...
I've been slowly finding the words for the grief I've felt in response to the three 6 hour chunks of time I now spend away from my baby each week. It feels un-natural, like physically unnatural, to be separated. I find myself angry with technology - if it weren't for the invention of my electric breast pump, then I would not be physiologically capable of spending so much time away from her. Technology has enabled me to endure an unnatural length of time away from my little one. On top of that, I didn't realize how much joy, and meaning I was getting out of the simple act of feeding, until I found myself facing a rather immense grief over the loss. This separation feels wrong on so many levels, despite the fact that I have so many intellectual reasons for my return to work being right.
This week has been confusing, the intensity of my emotions could easily make us as a family question whether I've made a mistake in returning so soon. While another part of me is so thoroughly enjoying the return that it's easy to see the goodness of this decision.
I've been able to spend these last three full days with Eliana, and they have been so refreshing to my soul. Getting to hold and play and feed and squeeze her is helping heal the woundedness I felt in my distance from her. And as I sit here on the edge of starting the wounding and healing cycle all over again this week, I honestly feel incredibly overwhelmed to watch this cycle play out on repeat for an indefinable amount of time. To foresee the weeks and months of grief seems so unmanageable. I know so many of you would want to let me know "it gets better", "it gets easier" and I can't help but wonder " in what way?" Does it get easier because I get better at shutting out the grief, and those "wrong" feelings? Does it get better because I get too busy to let myself feel, or worry, or miss? Does it get better because I just accept this is how life is?
Please tell me there's a better option, a better way that it gets better to feel this torn-ness between my intense love for my daughter and my deep love for my work.
I'd like to know that it gets better, in a better way than I can imagine now...
Wednesday, 11 February 2015
Do you ever wake up angry?
Today I woke up angry about the day that lie ahead. After a rather sleepless night I opted to cancel my morning plans so I could catch a needed hour of sleep during Eliana's first nap. Then, I woke up angry. Angry that I had to cancel something that I knew would have been really life giving, in order to get something so basic. I looked at the dishes in the kitchen and felt angry. I looked at the meat thawing on the counter that had to become dinner and felt angry. I looked at my fussy four month old needing my help to get to sleep and felt angry. I wanted to have a tantrum, run around the house knocking things over and throwing them around in protest to my endless attempt to tidy. I want to throw that thawed roast out the window and watch the dogs tear it apart. I want to scream "I feel so trapped!" instead of singing soothing lullaby songs.
As I put it into words, I'm both relieved to express it and a little scared of how angry I am. It seems disproportionate to one set of cancelled plans, so I can't help but wonder where it's all coming from?
Oh I wish I was sitting in a circle of other Mom's right now, I'm just longing to hear "oh that's totally normal! I always want to destroy my house"... or something like that. I feel bad that I feel angry. I wish I could be perfectly content loving on my daughter and husband, but there is this rebellious part of me that is desperate to revolt. I feel trapped and I want to destroy whatever walls, whether real or imagined, are surrounding me.
Phew, okay, it feels good to say that.
And it feels good to hear this: "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness" (Lam 3:23). I could use some unceasing love and mercy today when my own love and mercy seems short. Today I pray he would just send His love through me to Eliana, because it sure feels like what I can muster up inside myself just isn't enough.
As I put it into words, I'm both relieved to express it and a little scared of how angry I am. It seems disproportionate to one set of cancelled plans, so I can't help but wonder where it's all coming from?
Oh I wish I was sitting in a circle of other Mom's right now, I'm just longing to hear "oh that's totally normal! I always want to destroy my house"... or something like that. I feel bad that I feel angry. I wish I could be perfectly content loving on my daughter and husband, but there is this rebellious part of me that is desperate to revolt. I feel trapped and I want to destroy whatever walls, whether real or imagined, are surrounding me.
Phew, okay, it feels good to say that.
And it feels good to hear this: "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness" (Lam 3:23). I could use some unceasing love and mercy today when my own love and mercy seems short. Today I pray he would just send His love through me to Eliana, because it sure feels like what I can muster up inside myself just isn't enough.
Monday, 19 January 2015
Meaning in the Mundane
Two weeks from today I'll be heading back to work. I have lots of mixed feelings, and have gone back in forth in terms of readiness. Today I was bored, tired of the same tasks that I do everyday: laundry, dishes, dinner etc... And as a result I found myself trying to muster up the joy and gratitude and fulfilling feelings that have come so easily at times but weren't so easy to find today. Without them, it kind of feels like I'm just doing chores all day.
I'm wondering whether to take today as some kind of signal that I am in fact ready to go back to work, maybe ready for more stimulation, variety and challenges. But somehow, i don't want to use a bad day as the motivation for returning, it doesn't sit right in my gut.
I've very slowly learned over these last 5 years of marriage how important it is that I don't view marriage as something that provides me with happiness and fulfillment. It does, don't get me wrong, but when I need it to then suddenly bad days or disagreements become reason to question whether this commitment I made was really worth it. Instead, I've learned to see marriage as more opportunity for my character to be refined, and then all the good stuff is a bonus.
I'm wondering the same about motherhood: I don't want it to be this thing that either gives me enough fulfillment to justify staying home full time or doesn't. I guess I don't really want to commodify my relationship with my daughter in that way. So yes, days like today help me to hope that maybe my return to work might be happening at the right time, but I don't want it to be some kind of emotional proof that I should go back. I want to be careful not to use my happiness as a measurement for my relationship, I've made that mistake before, and hope to learn from it. So perhaps the question to be asking myself today is: how can days like today help shape and refine me? How can I better find meaning and purpose in the mundane?
I'm wondering whether to take today as some kind of signal that I am in fact ready to go back to work, maybe ready for more stimulation, variety and challenges. But somehow, i don't want to use a bad day as the motivation for returning, it doesn't sit right in my gut.
I've very slowly learned over these last 5 years of marriage how important it is that I don't view marriage as something that provides me with happiness and fulfillment. It does, don't get me wrong, but when I need it to then suddenly bad days or disagreements become reason to question whether this commitment I made was really worth it. Instead, I've learned to see marriage as more opportunity for my character to be refined, and then all the good stuff is a bonus.
I'm wondering the same about motherhood: I don't want it to be this thing that either gives me enough fulfillment to justify staying home full time or doesn't. I guess I don't really want to commodify my relationship with my daughter in that way. So yes, days like today help me to hope that maybe my return to work might be happening at the right time, but I don't want it to be some kind of emotional proof that I should go back. I want to be careful not to use my happiness as a measurement for my relationship, I've made that mistake before, and hope to learn from it. So perhaps the question to be asking myself today is: how can days like today help shape and refine me? How can I better find meaning and purpose in the mundane?
Wednesday, 14 January 2015
Happy Birthday to me
Today is 30th birthday. It feels good to be thirty, the "3" feels like it adds a level of credibility to everything I say :). It being a decade birthday, I've found myself intentionally reflecting more than usual. I can say with absolute confidence that I'm proud of my 20s: I'm proud of the maturity, self-awareness and growth that happened over the last 10 years; I'm proud of finishing two degrees and launching a career that I find so much joy and meaning in; I'm proud of the highs and lows Jason and I have faced and come out the other side of; I'm proud of the relationships I've built and repaired; I'm proud to be a Mom.
Seeing that list, I wonder if any decade can possibly be as rich and life changing as this last one has! Can I change in the next ten years as much as I did in the last? It seems unlikely with 20s being so formative to my identity, but I think I'll aspire to all the same. Reflecting on the last ten years is inspiring goals for the next ten, so here's what's on my heart as I sit here on my 30th birthday looking ahead to my 40th.
In the next 10 years I hope to: have a home with frequent guests who bless us and whom we can bless, prioritize my children and husband, go against the odds and do way more fun and adventurous things than a young family is expected to do, grow closer to "expertise" in group and trauma counselling, become more selfless, trust in God far more often than I trust in myself, visit Turkey and return to Italy, get much better at growing my own food, find ways to continue enjoying cooking as it becomes more of a required chore, have a teachable heart even as I learn and grow in understanding, spend very little time allowing guilt or shame to dictate who I am.
I look forward to reading this list in ten years, marveling at what came to be, and smiling as much more life experience reveals the joys and sorrows I could never have planned for.
Seeing that list, I wonder if any decade can possibly be as rich and life changing as this last one has! Can I change in the next ten years as much as I did in the last? It seems unlikely with 20s being so formative to my identity, but I think I'll aspire to all the same. Reflecting on the last ten years is inspiring goals for the next ten, so here's what's on my heart as I sit here on my 30th birthday looking ahead to my 40th.
In the next 10 years I hope to: have a home with frequent guests who bless us and whom we can bless, prioritize my children and husband, go against the odds and do way more fun and adventurous things than a young family is expected to do, grow closer to "expertise" in group and trauma counselling, become more selfless, trust in God far more often than I trust in myself, visit Turkey and return to Italy, get much better at growing my own food, find ways to continue enjoying cooking as it becomes more of a required chore, have a teachable heart even as I learn and grow in understanding, spend very little time allowing guilt or shame to dictate who I am.
I look forward to reading this list in ten years, marveling at what came to be, and smiling as much more life experience reveals the joys and sorrows I could never have planned for.
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