What I Wish I Knew

I have been a momma for 17 months. And although most days I can barely remember life without a child, relatively speaking 17 months is not a long time; so, before 17 months turns into 17 years, I want to chronicle some things while they are still fresh. With any luck they'll be useful to someone else, too. 

Here are five things I wish someone would have sat me down and said to me before I became a parent:

* Becoming a parent is indescribably beautiful. Whether you give birth to a child, adopt a child, or become a guardian in another way, any time a child comes into your life you are changed forever. While I was pregnant I heard much about sleepless nights, diaper explosions, and other horror stories that experienced parents inexplicably inflict onto soon-to-be parents; but, what I didn't know was that the joy, beauty, and wonder a child brings into your life is more than worth all of that other stuff. I am astounded at how much I absolutely love being a mom (see the post "Surprises"). It is a beautiful thing to pour into a little life and watch it grow.

* Take no one's advice. (Okay, someone did tell me this, but it is worth repeating.) God gave this child to you. You are the perfect parent for them, and they are the perfect child for you. Whether you call it providence, fate, or chance, your lives have crossed and you are the one(s) who will know this child best. Yes, there is much to be gleaned from the wisdom of others and there is certainly a place for that; however, at the end of the day you must make your own choices about how to raise your child. There is an intricate but elegant dance between the weight of this responsibility and the gift of its honor.

* There is no secret combo. This was an expectation I didn't know I had: if I have fed, burped, changed, swaddled, and soothed my baby, she should be happy. Right? WRONG. I think I knew this in theory, but in practice I was shocked! Why is my baby still crying after I have met every one of her needs that I can possibly think of? Why won't she go to sleep?! This is when you must remember the previous point. Your instinct is your best asset. Go with it. There isn't a secret combination to your child's happiness; and, just when you think you may have found one, it will change. Which leads me to my next thought...

* Murphy's Law becomes your new life rule. It becomes exponentially more true in your life when you have children. Think your situation can't get any worse? It will. Can it go wrong? It will. That day that you all have the stomach flu (the two-ender of course) and you just don't think you will make it, will absolutely positively without question become the day that the dog runs away, the power goes out, your basement floods, your car won't start, and your hair catches fire. Not even kidding. I used to think that these kinds of things were just funny things parents said for attention or sympathy. But no. They say it because it's true. You have been warned.

* Guilt and worry are your new BFF's. At least they are for me, and most of my mommy-friends. I remember being out-of-my-mind worried about SIDS. Here you are with your beautiful, brand new bundle of joy, and all of the experts are warning you about the very real possibility that your baby could suddenly and without cause, die. It is a very real and tragic occurrence for many families, so it is worth worrying about. But it doesn't stop there. Each new stage brings new worries. And the guilt. OH, the GUILT. Are you a working mom? You'll feel guilty for being away from your child. Stay-at-home-mom? You'll feel guilty for not helping to provide financially. Get a little bored with the same-old-mundane-every-day routine? You'll feel guilty for not "cherishing every moment". Live close to grandparents? You'll feel guilty for how often you ask them to watch the kids. Live far away from grandparents? You'll feel guilty for how infrequently they get to see the kids. You catch my drift. Whatever you do, you will always wonder if you could have done it differently or better. That is part of the gig, and part of the great adventure.

What kinds of things do you wish you knew before becoming a parent? Let me know in the comments below!

Beauty in the Ordinary

A scene from NBC's The Office

"There is so much beauty in ordinary things. But that's kind of the point, isn't it?"

Those of you who are fans of The Office know exactly where this quote came from: this week's series finale of the beloved show. This hilarious comedy took a mundane desk-job environment and extracted all the love, humor, and quirkiness it could get out of it. After 9 seasons on air, the brilliant finale ended Thursday with that one simple line. Beauty in the ordinary. It filled me up and knocked me over all at once. That is exactly what I have been feeling in my own life.

I live in the suburbs. I am a stay-at-home-mom of a white, middle class family. We have one child, two dogs, four bedrooms, and 3.2 million toys. If we travel, it is to visit grandparents. If we party, it is because it's someone's birthday. Our favorite kind of Friday night is one where we order pizza and watch something on Netflix. We have no claim to fame, and certainly not to fortune. Our lives are remarkably unremarkable.

But...

look a little deeper, 

and there are gold mines.

Look at the house that has become a home and a place of safety, belonging, and familiarity for a couple weary of moving. Look at the upstairs office that was turned into a nursery to welcome home a beautiful baby girl who is thriving and flourishing and bringing almost unbearable amounts of joy to her parents. Look at the couple who has had their share of ups and downs but is now closer than ever. Look at the friends that frequent our doorstep, the pictures that grace the mantle, and the toys that scatter the floor. All these are so very ordinary, and yet so full of depth and meaning. 

An ordinary day in the Huber living room.

Life with small children can be terribly mundane. Each day holds the same meals, messes, clean-ups, naps, diaper changes, and play times as the day before it did. And the day before that. And the day before that. It can all feel so stale and boring. (Sara Groves has the perfect song and music video for this stage of life called Setting Up the Pins.) But...BUT...I steal a sweet, slobbery kiss each time I strap Shiloh into her car seat. I get to see my husband, the love of my life, unfold into a confident and compassionate father; and, I can watch as my baby girl runs into his arms when he arrives home and goes back for as many zerberts as she can get. I get a first hand look at a tiny human learning all there is to know about life, and experience a mother's love - a love more desperate and beautiful than any I'd ever known. You see, there is so much beauty in the ordinary it is simply indescribable. It is impossible to put into words. 

This week as I laid in my hammock in our back yard I sensed the beauty almost tangibly. The baby was asleep, my hubby was working in the yard, my two crazy dogs were chasing each other around, and the beautiful Carolina blue skies held my gaze. It was just so simple, so utterly and completely ordinary, and so breathtakingly beautiful. It is those moments we will miss when we find ourselves in the next hard season. The next time the phone rings with bad news, it will be those peaceful, boring, gut-wrenchingly ordinary days that I will miss.

So for today, I will cherish the ordinary. I will take the time to reflect on the lack of drama in our lives and be thankful.

"I wish there was a way to know you were in the good old days before you left them." (Thanks yet again, The Office.)

You know something? I think that is exactly what this is.

My Changing Landscape

This post runs deep.

This past year has been a roller coaster for our little family. While the major parts of our lives are the same, it feels much different than it did last year at this time: our then tiny sack-of-potatoes infant now busies herself running around the house and yard; several dear friends have moved many miles away; my husband has a new role at work; I have developed some confidence about how to navigate the ever changing landscape of stay-at-home-mommy-hood; and I can't neglect to mention the latest four-legged addition to our family, Quinn. Some of our relationships have changed, we have faced turmoil at times, and generally our roles as people and as parents have changed.

With change comes re-evaluation. At least for me. It forces me to take stock of who I am, where I am, where I've been, and where I want to be. I do this a lot. A LOT. Probably daily. I have strong values and an equally strong need to stay in line with those values. Constantly re-evaluating my life keeps my high values, well...high. Also it is exhausting. Things like relationships, creativity, and faith are of extremely high value to me, and I prioritize them ruthlessly. I expect this of myself. Because this is the filter through which we see all of life, for people like me, the every-day mundane tasks are particularly distressing. Why, why, why would I spend time mopping the floor when I could connect with a friend, spend time with my daughter, or create something beautiful?! Pragmatically this poses a number of problems, not to mention the fact that it is a petri-dish for guilt. I read something in a personality profile recently that put words to the tension I wrestle with every single day. It said that my personality type, "...needs to work on balancing their high ideals with the requirements of every day living. Without resolving this conflict, they will never be happy with themselves, and they may become confused and paralyzed about what to do with their lives." Um, hello?! Did someone reach inside my brain and dictate my thoughts?! This IS my life. Those who know me well know just how much this is true. Ultimately, I just want to be me. Rachel. That is all.

As I had a little down time this last week on vacation, I re-evaluated some more. I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. I have a strong musical streak, but is music what I want to do with my life? If so, what kind of music? Maybe I want to be a therapist, or an interior designer, or a labor and delivery nurse. I have daydreamed about all of those things at one time or another. Is there just one thing I should do? What is realistic in my current life stage? What am I designed to do? What would make me happiest and be most fulfilling? I think about these questions every day, but right now I am sensing them very strongly. When I am 100 I want to look back on my life and know that I followed my dreams. Or at least that I tried. The problem arises when dreams are unclear. I only have a sense of inner unrest, I do not have a clear path, or even a clear desire. This blog was birthed out of some of that unrest, and the need for some kind of outlet. The unrest is not a bad thing! I am embracing it and am excited for what changes it will bring and where it will lead. It could be something as simple as finding a new friend or a new hobby, but I know whatever it is, it will be good. (I am not trying to be cryptic about anything here, please don't read into this.)

I am thankful for the stable parts of my life: family, home, job, community, that allow me to explore, and dream, and venture out in other areas. Even admidst the unrest, I must also acknowledge the deep sense of contentment and simple joy I have. I am deeply grateful both for my settled-ness and unsettled-ness. It is a good place to be.

The Invitation

by Oriah

It doesn’t interest me

what you do for a living.

I want to know

what you ache for

and if you dare to dream

of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me

how old you are.

I want to know 

if you will risk 

looking like a fool

for love

for your dream

for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me

what planets are 

squaring your moon...

I want to know

if you have touched

the centre of your own sorrow

if you have been opened

by life’s betrayals

or have become shrivelled and closed

from fear of further pain.

I want to know

if you can sit with pain

mine or your own

without moving to hide it

or fade it

or fix it.

I want to know

if you can be with joy

mine or your own

if you can dance with wildness

and let the ecstasy fill you 

to the tips of your fingers and toes

without cautioning us

to be careful

to be realistic

to remember the limitations

of being human.

It doesn’t interest me

if the story you are telling me

is true.

I want to know if you can

disappoint another

to be true to yourself.

If you can bear

the accusation of betrayal

and not betray your own soul.

If you can be faithless

and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty

even when it is not pretty

every day.

And if you can source your own life

from its presence.

I want to know

if you can live with failure

yours and mine

and still stand at the edge of the lake

and shout to the silver of the full moon,

“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me

to know where you live

or how much money you have.

I want to know if you can get up

after the night of grief and despair

weary and bruised to the bone

and do what needs to be done

to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me

who you know

or how you came to be here.

I want to know if you will stand

in the centre of the fire

with me

and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me

where or what or with whom

you have studied.

I want to know 

what sustains you

from the inside

when all else falls away.

I want to know

If you can be alone

with yourself

and if you truly like

the company you keep

in the empty moments.