7.19.2017

Dancing Through the Long Nights

Lately, Asher has been waking at some point during the night/early morning and needing my help to get back to sleep. 4:00 AM feels awfully early, but I also have to remind myself that it's actually pretty impressive that he went that long, considering he goes down around 8:00 PM. Nevertheless, dragging this tired body out of bed at that hour always feels difficult. When M is home and a mere hour or two from his own alarm going off for a full day of work, I scoop up Ash in my arms with his Lovey and trek into the nursery. I flip the fan on high (because homeboy sleeps so incredibly warm and usually calms quickly with a cool breeze), turn on his soother and the diffuser, execute a quick diaper change, and settle in for our dance.

That's right, we dance.

I hold him as he rests his head on my shoulder, Lovey clutched between us, and I bounce. I bounce until I feel him relax and his breath slow, signaling that he's ready for me to cradle and sit in the recliner to finish up the night (morning) together.

I wish I could tell you that it always feels beautiful, precious. It doesn't. Some nights, I'm fighting back tears. Of exhaustion, of frustration, of stress, of sadness. So many feelings. I wish I could sleep uninterrupted for a whole night. I wish he could sleep uninterrupted for a whole night. I wish I could snuggle my husband. I wish I could unwind before bed with a bath, a book, a glass of wine. I wish I could wake up and get dressed in my favorite clothes and go to work with a hot cup of coffee in hand. I wish I could play with him all day without constantly watching my phone for a work email or message. I wish I could write in a coffee shop without an ounce of guilt or exhaustion.

I think about all of these things at 4:00 AM. My head swirls, my heart swells, and my joints ache as I bounce and rock my precious baby boy for however long he needs to find his own peace. Sometimes it's minutes. Some nights, hours.

This is our dance. It's beautiful and it's overwhelming at the same time. I see him rest comfortably in my arms as the morning light drifts in around the curtains of the nursery, and I want that moment to exist forever. There, I find strength, rest, and joy. And I have just enough in me for another night of dancing with my son.

7.14.2017

Hair Falling Out? Check In on Your Thyroid.

Apparently when some women are pregnant, they get long, luscious locks. I, however, had no such luck. In fact, I found myself corralling handfuls (not exaggerating, as I'm wont to do) of hair during every shower, and wondering if this would curtail before the thinning was beyond disguising. I chalked it up to another pregnancy thing that would go back to normal after baby arrived, but I found that the hair loss continued without missing a beat after my delivery.

It never occurred to me to consider hair loss a symptom. Like fatigue, dry skin, and brain fog, it's one of those things that when experienced often enough, you start to just adjust and assume they're part of your new normal (especially as a new mom). Imagine my shock as I was reviewing a list of symptoms of hypothyroidism at a visit with my Integrative Medicine doctor, finding all of the above on the list...as well as several other "annoyances" to which I had adapted.

On the one hand, you can Google almost any issue or even slightly abnormal experience and get suggestions ranging from a run-of-the-mill infection to a life-threatening, rare disease. Symptoms are nuanced and illnesses these days are not cut and dry, just one thing or another. With our modern diets and incredibly stressful pace, it's nearly impossible to actually detect when our bodies are trying to tell us that something is wrong, much less take the time (and justify the expense) to address it. 

But I've been doing exactly that as I work to get to the bottom of my autoimmune condition. I am not relegating myself to staying on medication my whole life, which may very well be something that I just have to get over. But doing so without investing the effort in helping my body actually HEAL and return to a state of balance so that it can handle this condition on its own (which I wholeheartedly believe is exactly how our amazing bodies are designed to work) is not something I can justify. My baby boy is only nine months old, and I don't just want to be dragging these old bones around for his life. I want vitality. I want to be well. I want him to have to warn his friends about his sharp, sassy mama. (The spirit of Biggie shall live on! RIP, Ma.)

So, I share all this because I want to inspire hope. I'm about three months into this particular journey, and still working through some big changes to chip away at the years of stress, toxicity, and exhaustion my body has endured. But I will say this: my hair is no longer falling out. My hairline is slowly returning to normal. And I will embrace the peach fuzz in the process, knowing that it's a sign -- albeit a small one -- that I'm on the right track.

7.03.2017

Simplifying

Consider this post on the housekeeping tip...

I am reigning in things a bit. The blog is one of several aspects of my life where I've sort of spiraled out and started chasing things that I don't need to. In the spirit of transparency, I've sought out lame ways to monetize this space, which is something I have no business doing. I started blogging so that I'd have an easy outlet for writing, which I still genuinely enjoy. I never put too many parameters around what I'd write about (hence, my embracing of the "lifestyle blog" genre), but I could/can feel a shift in trying to market my posts in a way that isn't genuine and it started to get my wheels turning about things I need to let lie.

I can get really consumed with stuff if I'm not careful, and after many years of keeping up a budget and trying to be more mindful about spending (yes, sometimes erring on the side of cheapskate), I allowed my pursuit of brand affiliation and site traffic to open a Pandora's Box of stuff. I don't even function well when surrounded by stuff, so it's an odd paradox that I can't explain...but I can control.

So, I am not shutting down this site (which was admittedly my overly dramatic knee-jerk reaction). I am, however, taking a step back and trying to simplify this space. I shut down my Twitter because I had nothing terribly important to contribute there, and I'm going to do the same with my blog's Facebook page. Unless I have original content to offer, it seems silly to have these going and feeling like one more thing to chase. I will continue to stay active with Instagram because I've really enjoyed that medium, so feel free to follow me there, and you can also sign up in the left pane to get my posts via email.

Without boxing in what this blog is or what it will become, I am at least taking a step back to return to my roots and focus on good content...whatever the topic. I may still cultivate affiliate relationships and dabble in OOTD posts (in all their awkward glory), but I'm going to relax on striving to make this blog something it isn't, to be something I'm not, and to leave the runway open for those who do far better than what I (half-heartedly) attempted.

And yes, this post is largely self-serving, a personal line in the sand of sorts. So thank you for bearing with me.

...As you were.

6.13.2017

Use What You've Got

I was having coffee with a friend this morning who is in ministry leadership, and we were brainstorming how to best engage folks to get some critical tasks done that absolutely require delegation and more hands at work. It's really difficult to get people to commit these days. Everyone is so busy, and trust, I get it. 

But here's where my cookies get straight up frosted: when people don't step up because they don't think their gifts, their contributions are valuable enough to offer. 

Hear me, friends: don't downplay what you do well.

I firmly believe that God gifted each of us with different strengths. We can't all be strong at all the things, and even those who seem to rock pretty much everything are not going to be particularly strong at something (like, for example, saying no, or stepping back so others can step up and flourish).

If you're over the age of 20, hopefully you've reflected some on your skill set. (If nothing else, your resume isn't going to write itself, so you've at least flirted with this concept, one would hope.) Even if you assume that a strength of yours is unimportant, it doesn't change the fact that you do it well. Not to mention, given the culture we live in today, even something as seemingly rudementary as speaking well on the phone or the ability to  craft an email without a single emoji or hashtag is a very big deal. 

Are you great at taking notes? Many people aren't, but I bet you can imagine who is everyone's clutch resource when it comes time to recall what was a discussed at a given meeting or gathering. 

Do others seem to leave your presence invigorated and inspired? Then hey, guess what, you're a small part of whatever success follows in the wake of an environment you helped cultivate. 

Is balancing a checkbook and making spreadsheets your jam? Bam! You are the lynchpin in your family's or your company's ability to make a budget, stick to it, and plan financially for the future. HUGE! You wouldn't believe how many adults (we're talking senior executives) can't grasp this task. 

To the responsible, detail-oriented type: you're the crucial element that keeps a team of visionaries from steering their lofty ideas right off the edge of the horizon and into failure. You're not boring or a buzzkill. You're necessary. 

Don't forsake the incredible value of being "one of the little people." Nothing big comes without first being small. 

6.06.2017

Trying to Revel in the Mess

If I'm honest, I can't function well in a messy home. I don't like to throw around the term "OCD," because I know that's a very real disorder for some. But I do feel a high degree of discontentment and anxiety when my house is untidy. (I realize it's never actually that untidy, so I guess it's relative.) 

But having an eight month old? Yeah, it can get a bit cluttered here and there. Not to mention, now that he's crawling like it's his job, it's not at all uncommon to see dust bunnies stuck to his precious grubby hands and feet. (Oh, the joys of an 87-year-old house, which could be mopped and vacuumed five times a day and still manifest dirt and dust.)


Memories are being made, discoveries are around every corner, and he's enjoying the beauty of choice and learning to keep himself occupied in his own little world. I try to cling to this and remember that I serve him so much better as a mom by crawling on the ground with him than I do fixating on the less-than-pristine floor. 

But sometimes, honestly, I just see the stuff, things to be picked up, and chores that are begging for my attention. This is yet another area where I feel pulled in competing directions, and, as usual, I know that one direction is better than others in terms of honoring what truly matters. 

So rather than stressing out over wayward blocks, burp clothes and fuzzy friends strewn here and there (especially as Ash travels from room to room at will), I will try to remind myself that each of these "messes" are precious gifts. One day I'll look back on these relics and pine for the days of dirty knees and slobbery smiles.

And now I've made my own damn self cry.

#motherhood