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Maybe Baby, But Not Right Now

posted 24th April 2011    Written by: Juliana    CATEGORY: All Posts, Family, Juliana, Season 4

So, now that there has been another pregnancy announced in our small group of season 4 bloggers, I’m starting to worry that there is something in the Stratejoy water.  I am so, so happy for our mamas-to-be and know they will both be incredible parents to very lucky kiddos, but I have to admit I am a little scared that it’s contagious now!

But seriously, all the baby talk around here has had me thinking about the Baby Question.

We’ve all heard the rhyme, right?

“First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes… “  well, you know what’s supposed to come next there.   Some of you may be wondering why, after only six months of marriage, I’d be thinking about babies at all.   Mostly, it’s because I can’t seem to avoid the subject.

I may have been naive to think that I’d have plenty of time before people started asking us when we were planning to have children. (Not if, but when. Most people don’t ask if.)  Perhaps it was silly of me to assume that, in our modern age, most people don’t concern themselves with the reproductive habits of their friends and neighbors.   Alas, I was wrong.

I was surprised by the very first person to say something, because it wasn’t my mother or any of my Italian relatives.  Defying stereotype altogether, they have been completely silent on the subject.  The first person to say something was… my dad.   And he didn’t even wait until after the wedding.   During our Father-Daughter dance, he gestured to one of the cute little kids playing on the dance floor and said, “So, when are you going to get one of those?”

Then, it was our neighbors. Our neighbors across the street are a very sweet family with two kids.  Two days after our wedding, as we were preparing to leave for our honeymoon trip, our neighbors were chatting with us out in the driveway. (The lady of the family is Ukrainian, which is only important to the story so that you can picture her accent.)

Neighbor Lady:  If you want to walk in the mornings with me, I can do.  Was much easier for us to get pregnant after I started exercise.

Me:  Uh. Thank you. I’m… we’re not… but…

Neighbor Lady:  Sure! You just let me know. We try for years at first, but soon as I exercise, we pregnant! You should try.

Me: ….. [polite smile]

Little Neighbor Girl:  I will be the BEST babysitter!

These types of encounters are pretty easy to brush off, actually, but some part of them tends to linger in the back of my mind.  I sometimes wonder if there’s something wrong with me because I don’t want to rush into motherhood this early into my marriage…and because I’m not sure if I ever want to do it at all.

My ambivalence about motherhood comes as a surprise to some people.  I spent years as a nanny and have served as a doula & childbirth educator to more than 20 families.   Pregnancy, birth, and parenthood are subjects that have played strong roles in my life for the last decade, as I’ve tried to advocate for and support new families.  Because of this, I think people assume that I am eager to become a mother myself.   Truthfully, my close relationship with the experiences of parents has probably served to deter me.

I don’t mean that I see “how awful” parenthood is and want to stay away from it.  Rather, I am not naive about the incredible commitment and devotion necessary to be a wonderful parent, having watched so many families blossom.   It’s not a fear of the loss of identity, but rather the understanding that, for a little while at least, it seems necessary to allow the role of Mother to subsume other aspects of identity in favor of nurturing a new human being.  It’s also my belief that many people (luckily not the ones I have interacted with!) go into parenthood because they are “supposed to” and not because they truly grasp what this change will mean in their lives.   I have no illusions about the total overhaul that motherhood can require, and so I’m not in any rush to take it on.  I know exactly the type of thing I’d be getting myself into.  It is a task I both admire and know that I am not equipped for at the moment.

Lest I seem like some kind of Debbie Downer, I want to clarify that I have a deep reverence for Motherhood and birth. I have witnessed the birthing process many times now, and each time there is something truly magical about it.  No matter how stoic the doctor, no matter how chaotic the room, no matter how much ambient noise there is in the surrounding area, the mood changes at the precise moment before a child is born.   Collectively, everyone present seems to hold the space, some even holding their breath, right before the last “push”.   Everyone in the room becomes acutely aware that, in just a moment, there will be a new person, a new being here with us on Earth, who was not here before.

That moment never ceases to bring tears to my eyes and awe to my heart, and I will never take it lightly.

So, perhaps one day I’ll venture into that territory, but for now the world of Motherhood is for others to explore, and I’m happy to observe from a close distance.

 

[photo by Psicoloco]

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Experience Minus The Urgency

posted 23rd April 2011    Written by: Dee    CATEGORY: All Posts, Dee, Inspiration, Life Lesson, Quarterlife Crisis, Spirituality, What I've Learned

Everyone has a list. You know, a Life List, a list of 30 things do to by age 30 or 25 to do by a 25th birthday or a daily to-do-list.

Maybe it’s written down in your journal, posted on your blog, discussed with a close friend, or floating through your mind. For me, it’s all of the above.

I’ve got lists about things I need to do this season (be sure to enjoy a picnic in the park this spring, go to the farmer’s market more, plant bulbs, make hot cross buns on Easter, dye eggs, do something lovely for Mother’s Day, enjoy an afternoon at a winery while wearing a cute sundress), things I need to do before the year is up (5K for charity! have a short story published! take the GRE! eliminate debt!), things I need to take in before I move from this town (summer festivals downtown! visit local state parks! concerts! restaurants!), documentaries I need to see, people to visit all over America, photographs I need to take, on and on and ON.

Good thing: The lists are a healthy, productive guide. They serve as an identification of goals and hopes; a reminder that what we want can be accomplished. Lists provide us with a sense of self-accountability. Additionally, it takes time and thought to pinpoint what you want your life to look life. They offer a sense of purpose. They breed motivation. They move us to action. They give us a place to return to when we’ve lost the compass.

Bad thing: I’m controlled by the lists. I’m sometimes so focused on crossing items off that I don’t experience any of it. I’m constantly thinking about how to suck the marrow right out of this existence. I’m consumed by the sense of urgency I feel to take the most that this life has to offer.

Recently, I’ve been evaluating this identified sense of urgency I feel to accomplish everything ever. I’m questioning how the endless desire for more doing, more activity, and more experience is limiting my ability to absorb the here, the now, the present.

Example: My grandmother, a woman so dear to my heart and the foundation of my family, passed away a couple of months ago. At the time, the semester was beginning, I was starting my journey with Stratejoy, taking on new tasks, setting goals, kicking ass and taking names. I was caught in the hustle of creating a juicy life and I didn’t let myself feel the emotion of losing someone so integral to the health of my soul. I barely cried when I heard the news. I felt so guilty about it, but I carried on with my everyday chores, my lunch plans, my assignments, my creativity. I didn’t slow down to take in the grief of loss. Although painful, loss is still an experience, an emotion that this life offers us. A powerful chance to pause and reflect. I missed the feeling entirely.

Shortly after the funeral, I was visiting with my aunt. I was buzzing from one thing to the next, probably knocking things over as I usually do, not taking the time to do whatever task was at hand carefully, mindlessly getting one thing done in order to move onto the next.

She furrowed her brow at me and asked, “WHAT are you in such a hurry for? Slow. Down.”

Great question. What am I in such a hurry for?

When you lose touch with inner stillness, you lose touch with yourself. When you lose touch with yourself, you lose yourself in the world. -Eckhart Tolle

The easy explanation is that the death of my grandmother struck me. That I was overcome by an awareness of life’s fleeting nature. Sure. Death can strike us that way. Our time here is finite, and it’s an obvious reminder. There is so much to be felt, learned, and shared before we’re done and that can frighten us into frenzy.

BUT. What value is the feeling, learning, and sharing if we’re doing it with such urgency and speed that we don’t actually feel any of it? What good are the lists and the goals if the emotions associated with their accomplishment are absent, overlooked, breezed right past? We can’t feel, hear, touch, smell, or taste much if we’re moving too quickly.

What am I in such a hurry for?

I am blessed/suffer (like many) from the desire to cram as much into every moment as physically, emotionally, and logically possible. I have extreme difficulty saying no to the possibility of social interaction, new experience, and opportunity for growth. Perhaps, in the hurrying from one possibility to the next, I’m sabotaging my happiness in the now for the sake of happiness in the future (which, hello, I’ll never feel because there will always be something that comes next). In a way, it’s the age old quality vs. quantity debate. Perhaps, I’m foregoing potential peace and the B-word (balance) in search of more, more, more.

In my hunger to absorb so much, maybe I’m missing small beauty- a blossoming tree, the smell of coffee wofting from the corner shop, the temperature outside, the taste of that cupcake- because I’m zipping so quickly to the next experience.

What am I in such a hurry for?

And, I’m thinking, too, that this is a direct lesson from The Joy Equation. After all, it is an equation. An equation because we each have to do the work to find the balance that allows us to identify and then execute our goals. It looks so different for everyone, obviously. For me, the equation that will equal joy is about manipulating my tendency to overextend myself and go in too many directions by countering it with exercises in slooooowwwwwing doooowwwwn.

I can have purpose without the urgency. I’ve got one rockin’ list of 25 things I’m going to do by the time I turn 25 in July (Eek!). I’ve gotta do some karaoke, find the perfect pair of cowboy boots, get my tattoos, and see a psychic, among other things. Even with all these questions swirling in my mind, I shouldn’t feel bad for maintaining such lists, but, rather, must focus on training myself in the fine art of pausing to feel the emotion that I want from those goals. It shouldn’t be the awareness of time that moves me to action, but the desire itself that holds the value. After all, isn’t the feeling that those exhilarating tasks will bring what motivated me to make the list in the first place? Is it the actual tattoo that I’m going to love or the emotion associated with that image? You know?

How can anything serve us unless we give ourselves the time to feel it? How can anything be really productive unless it’s done thoughtfully and with care to the action itself? And what is any list’s purpose other than to guide us to finding our truest, deepest and, hopefully, most aware selves?

What am I in such a hurry for? 

Of course, the only thing I can do is slow down long enough to give it some more thought.

[photo credit: sfgirlbybay]

And, pssst! Know what I can’t WAIT for more of? Joy Juice! Prompts for self-growth?! I’ll take another helping, please. Drink it up, coming soon!

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quit playing games with my heart

posted 22nd April 2011    Written by: Katharine    CATEGORY: All Posts, Job/Career/Work, Katharine, Love/Relationships, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 4, Travel/Adventure

Confession:  I’m terrified of falling in love.  Again.

I have avoided serious relationships over the last three years for exactly this reason.

I fall hard and fast.  I put myself out there because I believe it’s the only way to truly be loved by someone.

But when you give someone your heart and they rip it out and shatter it into a million tiny pieces, it forces you to never want to fall in love again.

It’s been almost three years since a man, who I was convinced was my soul mate, shattered my heart.  I spent nearly two years trying to mend it back together, trying to convince myself that we could be friends, and trying to pretend like I was just fine.  Except, we couldn’t be friends, and I wasn’t ‘just fine.’  I was damaged and broken and it was [mostly] his fault.  It took me a long time to finally realize what I’m worth, what I deserve, and how toxic that relationship was. 

Are we ever really ‘just friends’ with our exes?

Over time, I stitched the wounds back together and I gave myself the chance to get back in the [dating] game.  But sometimes dating in a big city, like Philadelphia, just downright sucks.  Not only are you competing for a man’s affection, but you’re competing against the other single ladies in the city.

I gave it a shot, though.  I put myself out there, balls to the face wall, and dated [another] man I met through hockey.  After a month and a half of dating, I got burned.  I allowed myself to become vulnerable to a man – telling him my darkest secrets and my deepest fears – and he still managed to get the best of me.  He pushed me into that infamous ‘friend zone’ and I felt like someone had punched me in the ovaries repeatedly, as hard as they could.

It wasn’t his fault; his intentions were genuine.  In fact, looking back on it now, he did the right thing by being brutally honest with me about his dating trend because we’ve built a better friendship around it, but that experience still left a scar.

I moved out of the country because I was tired of the crappy dating experiences.  I was tired of the games, the rejections, the lies, and getting burned over and over.  I was tired of dating someone and having them run away the second I mentioned I had cervical cancer.  I was sick of the constant pity party when I confessed that my parents are deceased.

I came to Prague in search of a way to find inner peace and resolution, but a bigger part of me moved out of the country because I need to find a way to love myself before I can allow a man to love me.

I gave this a shot.  I spent five weeks living in Prague, trying to find answers to those painful questions I’ve been avoiding.  Am I really happier here?  Did I really do this for the right reasons? I even grew a crush on a boy man while I was here – and perhaps it has potential – but I just can’t stay.  Because if I stay in Prague, I’m staying for all of the wrong reasons, and I owe it to myself to do this right – to discover what it means to live passionately and to find a way to really fall in love with my life.

My intention was to stay in Prague for a year, but in a couple weeks I’ll be heading to Thailand to teach English to students at a summer school.  Six months ago, I never imagined I’d be living in Prague, getting certified to teach English.  One month ago, I never even considered teaching in Asia so soon.  Right now, I can’t believe that I’ll soon be living and teaching in a third world country.

As Cee Lo Green would sing, “Ain’t that some shit.”

Life is so crazy sometimes.

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Dear Baby A

posted 21st April 2011    Written by: Bri    CATEGORY: Bri, Family

Dear Baby A,

Hi, it’s your Mama.  This is the first of many, many letters you’ll receive I’m sure (I’m not the scrapbooking type).  Right now, you are 10 weeks old and just over an inch long.  That may not seem big to you, but the first time I said “Baby is this big” while measuring out an inch between my thumb and forefinger I just about fainted.

One day you will ask Daddy and me how we met and we will tell you the story about how we had known each other for about a year but one night Daddy walked into a party and it was like a magnet activated, while also turning on a light switch and setting off fireworks; all three things happened at once and we knew instantly we were both about to have our lives changed.  That night your Daddy kissed my earlobes.  If you end up being a boy, I hope you have the same genuine romantic soul your Daddy has.  If you’re a girl I cannot wait for someone to set your night on fire like your Daddy did to mine.

While we knew we were starting something amazing, we didn’t know just how quickly our lives were going to change.  You’ll do the math one day, because you’ll be insanely smart like your Dad, and realize that you were born literally 40 weeks after that night…. you were conceived 2 weeks after that night little one.  (When you’re older we’ll talk about how “it only takes one time”, but that talk can wait.) I don’t know anyone who plans to start baby-making after two weeks, but that’s exactly what happened.

I never want you to think you were a mistake or an accident.  Those words were never ever uttered by me or your dad.  Accidents are things that you would take back if you could, like the decision to try giving myself bangs when I was 20.  You, my love, were no accident because we would do it over again in heart beat.  You are a surprise; the kind that makes a heart flutter and changes everything in the best possible way.  After we found out you were coming, there was never a second that you were not wanted.  We want you.  We’ve always wanted you.

I want you to grow up surrounded by love.  The primary piece of our love-family-puzzle will always be the fact that your Dad and I are crazy about each other; I know you’ll see it and grow up secure in your parent’s relationship and that makes me incredible happy.  Your Dad and I have spent hours daydreaming of the family we’ll be when you get here.  We’ve talked about nightly dinners, Christmas traditions, and how much you’ll love swimming in the summer.  You’re going to have a magical childhood; protected and safe from all the things that make children grow up too fast.  Lucky for you, your Dad is a teacher and gets summers off.  You two are going to have the best summers exploring and playing together.  You are going to be the only kid in our group of friends; you’re going to have a ton of “Aunts” and “Uncles” who are going to completely fall in love with you.

We’re never done this before, so we’re totally going to mess up along the way.  I just wanted you to know that we love you.  I love you.  I love you more than I thought was possible at this point.  I haven’t even felt you move yet, but I can feel my body changing and growing so that it can grow you.  It’s incredible.  So are you.

Love,

Mama

{Image Credit}

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Faltering is Human

posted 20th April 2011    Written by: Laura    CATEGORY: Laura, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 4, What I've Learned

I have a survivor mentality.

I don’t know why or how I learned it – likely from my Mom, who rose above a heck of a lot of challenges in her life – but I definitely notice when the survivor within me takes hold. As soon as a situation calls for it, I can immediately strip everything away – work obligations, social dates, cleaning, cooking, exercising – and focus on only the essentials – showering, sleeping, listening, loving, and caring for whoever needs to be cared for.

My compassion and empathy skyrockets. My logic and reason become laser sharp. If emotions are running rampant around me, I’m often the one who’s staying grounded and level-headed. I can still find clarity and insight in muddled, messy situations.

Sometimes, all of this is a plus. It allows me to be a rock for my loved ones to lean on.

Most recently, my survivor came out when my best friend realized she was headed for divorce. Before that, I was a survivor for Hunny and our little fur baby when she was very sick and scared the crap out of us.

Before that, I was a survivor for my boss while her Mom battled terminal cancer and eventually passed.

Before that, I was a survivor for my Mom when she went through an earth-shattering second divorce.

Before that, I was a survivor for my Dad, who performed CPR on his brother-in-law and then had to call his sister while she was an ocean away and tell her that her husband was gone.

As a kid, I played the role for Mom while she battled cancer. And again as a young teen when my parents divorced.

I don’t recall how my inner survivor manifested itself when I was a child, but I know it was there somehow.

I can be strong for everyone else, that’s an easy role for me to step in to. But as a result, I end up skimming over the situation and not allowing myself to experience its emotional depth. Realizing that was a big ah-ha moment in the last week or so.

For the first time ever, I came to understand that my survivor mentality has its minuses, too. It takes its toll on me, no matter how natural it feels at the time. Seeing, experiencing and absorbing the devastation, tears, confusion and emotional paralysis of my loved ones wears on me. And if I don’t take the time to allow myself to heal, it will catch up with me. It will.

Case in point? In the last couple of weeks, my best friend’s divorce caught up with me. You see, this was the third divorce I’d weathered in the last 15 years and, in many ways, it was a disappointing deja vu of my Mom’s split with her husband two years ago. I never fully dealt with that divorce at the time and now here I was, watching another one of my best friends hurt beyond measure and figuring out how to help them tread water.

Once the dust settled, I crashed. I was tired and drained. I binged on crappy food. I was cranky. My irrational fears had a louder voice than usual. My stomach had a permanent pit in it. I was not myself; not even close. Not knowing why, it freaked me out. I was worried that those feelings of disconnection meant I had lost all of the progress I had made in self-acceptance and authentic living.

But then I realized, I just needed a break. I was emotionally spent. It was my turn to feel shitty. Because the thing is, no one can be indefinitely strong and steady. Faltering - feeling – is human.

Hardships, even those experienced indirectly, need to be respected. You need to let them own you – at least for a wee bit – because otherwise, they won’t go away. They’ll silently nag at you until you give them the attention they deserve.

Only by accepting, acknowledging and articulating this most recent hardship have I been able to climb out of the emotional muck and recognize myself again.

{Photo credit}

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