Perfectionism & Self-Reliance

For years now, I feel like God has been working hard at undoing all my perfectionistic tendencies, my religiosity, and my self-reliance. It's a long process apparently, and for quite some time I didn't even know it was going on. Well, I knew things were going on; I just didn't know what God was up to. But these past nine months or so has been like the PhD program for the end to my self-reliance, and it's been...painful. It's not easy to see parts of ourselves die, especially those parts that seem actually useful.

Perfectionism is not necessarily all that useful. It often prevents progress, and I don't think I've found it too hard to let go of. But self-reliance...well that seems like a good thing, right? Be responsible. Do your part. God helps those who help themselves. We believe that stuff. And I'm not saying it's bad. We have to be responsible. We have to do our part. But that whole "God helps those who help themselves"...I think that may be the part that God is looking to kill off in my life, and to do so He's had to practically incapacitate me.

I've not been doing too well the past few days. I've been frustrated by people and things and plagued by the physical and emotional discomforts of the end of pregnancy. But topping it all off is that little voice in the back of my head sending nasty messages. Those messages generally revolve around the idea that our life is so imperfect that we have no place having another baby. Little pieces of life keep blowing up in my face issuing the same reminder. And so I see that some part of me is still pretty uncomfortable with imperfection. And my self-reliant self is angry and frustrated that this little buddy won't leave the womb and enter the world, which would put me on the path to moving on to figuring out how to get back to work in some capacity to help our family financially.

Instead I find myself living in nothing less than complete uncertainty and lack of clarity. And I'm pretty sure that this is exactly where God has wanted me for the past several months. All of the frustration I've been feeling for the past few days tells me that perhaps not much progress has been made in dealing the death blow to my self-reliance. Because now that the end of this pregnancy is near, I feel more energy than I've felt in the past nine months. And I don't think it's just that burst of energy that people get at the end of pregnancy. I think it's me, saying, "I can do this. I don't know how, but I can. I can fix things." And the truth is, I can't.

So I'm swinging wildly between these thoughts and emotions, and you can all count yourselves lucky that you don't live with me. As usual I was up this morning before everyone else, and it was only a matter of minutes before I was crying, flooded with the reality of certain things. And then I read a chapter from Anne Lamott's Plan B: Thoughts on Faith, which I've been reading sporadically over the past few months. And she said this:

"I have a lot of faith. But I am also afraid a lot, and have no real certainty about anything. I remembered something Father Tom had told me--that the opposite of faith is not doubt but certainty. Certainty is missing the point entirely. Faith includes noticing the mess, the emptiness and discomfort, and letting it be there until some light returns."

And that made me feel a bit better. Because I'm the kind of person who likes certainty, and I believe that Anne Lamott (or Father Tom, I guess) is right. Certainty isn't faith. After that, I read Psalm 44. I read a Psalm every day, and then I just cycle back through them when I reach the end of the book. Today's Psalm said:

"It was not by their sword that they won the land, nor did their arm bring them victory; it was your right hand, your arm, and the light of your face, for you loved them."

So again today I am trying to let go of my self-reliance. I will notice the mess and try not to feel overwhelmed by it. I will try to stop telling myself that it's my job to fix everything. That I can do it right. I will wait for God and the light of his face.

Waiting

There's nothing like waiting for a birth to give your patience a little tune up. Two weeks ago I went to the hospital on a Friday evening and a few hours later, we were sent home. False labor. It's never happened to me before. I was okay with everything not happening right then, but it's hard on the boys, who just want their brother to get here already. They ask me several times throughout any given day, "Any contractions?" They are driving me nuts.

For the record, I do feel sorry for them. I know it's hard to wait. Sons 1 and 2 were late, so I know what it is to wait. (Torture.) I keep telling them that this is their brother's way of making sure we know it's all about him and not about us, but that doesn't diminish their impatience. At yesterday's OB appointment, we set an induction date. Unfortunately, my husband and I have to be the kind of people who think that things should happen naturally. (Why?!?!?) So, we set the induction date for April 21 -- exactly a week beyond my due date.

It's funny how people, including my sons, think there should be some clue about when labor will begin...but there just isn't. Yesterday my doctor said he really didn't think there was any way I would make it to the 21st, but what does he know? With my first baby, I was dilated six or seven weeks before my due date. The doctors told me he would absolutely come early. Nope. Six days late.

People ask me if I'm walking or doing anything else to bring on labor...and I am not. Because I've tried that in the past and it did exactly nothing. With my first, I logged miles around my Chicago neighborhood with a dear friend who came to stay with us and be there for the delivery. Those miles didn't seem to do much of anything, but it is fun to walk and talk.

Other people say to talk to the baby. To welcome him to the world. We've been talking to this little dude for weeks. He seems relatively unaffected by our pleas to come on out so we can hold and kiss him. Maybe he doesn't like it when we sing that Talking Heads song to him with these lyrics, "Baby, baby please let me hold you..." Maybe he's not impressed with our singing skills.

Maybe he's just super comfy. Whatever the reason, we just keep waiting.

In the meantime, I try to distract myself with the little work I currently have. And with doing the things that get undone. And with books. And with the beginning of baseball and soccer season. Today is opening day for Son3's little league. About an hour from now, the little league parade will pass in front of our house, and later today he has his opening game. I really didn't want to miss today's festivities, so I was pretty sure the kid would actually come last night as my kids generally seem to have a penchant for messing up my plans. But I'm still here, so it's game on, and maybe I can go into labor as soon as today's game is over. Or not.

Books & Thoughts

I've read a few good books recently and I'm reading a few others now, and I thought I should pass them along here since I'm frequently begging you all for book recommendations. I recently finished a book titled The Girl Who Fell from the Sky, which was an interesting story about a girl of mixed race growing up in the early 1980s. Lots of insight into the struggle of not fitting in. Can't remember the author's name. I also recently finished The Sacred Echo by Margaret Feinberg, which is one of the most insightful books on prayer and hearing God's voice that I've read. One of her main ideas is that God repeats himself to get our attention, and that is "the sacred echo." But one of my favorite things that she says in her book is that prayer is one part talking, one part listening, and one part waiting. I've never thought of prayer quite that way...that the waiting is a part of prayer...and I found it really encouraging.

I'm currently reading a book called The Lie, which is a story about what happens after one of two brothers is shot and killed on the family's front porch. Cheerful, right? Nevertheless, it's well-written and I'm enjoying it.

But the book I'm most excited is The Jesuit Guide to Almost Everything: A Spirituality for Real Life by James Martin, SJ. After reading the first chapter I discovered that I may actually be a Jesuit. The four "ways" of Jesuit spirituality are:
1. Finding God in all things -- meaning that nothing is outside the reality of our spiritual lives.
2. Becoming a contemplative in action -- meaning that in the midst of our activity we can be contemplative and allow that to inform our actions.
3. Looking at the world in an incarnational way -- meaning that God can be found in the everyday events of our lives.
4. Seeking freedom and detachment -- meaning not having "disordered affections" or being tied down by unimportant things.

Hard to argue with, huh? I've only just started reading this book, but I'm looking forward to the rest of it. Strangely enough, the author was on the Colbert Report last night. Hilarious.

***
On a different note entirely, I was watching the news this morning and I heard that a lot of congressmen and women who voted for the health care bill are receiving threats. One congressman, who is a pro-life democrat, is getting a lot of those threats as a result of his vote. There is so much I could say about this...I mean, isn't helping people buy health insurance actually "pro-life"? I'm not sure when people got such a narrow definition of what "pro-life" actually is. But I just needed to point out the irony of this enraged pro-lifer who called his congressman and said, "You baby-killer motherf***er. I hope you die." That's the spirit, right?

***
Just for the fun of it, I welcome your predictions on when this baby will be born. It's so strange to know that our lives will change so dramatically but not know exactly when that will happen. The boys are asking when. Even my husband is asking if the doctors are making predictions, though he knows darn well those predictions are useless. Yesterday someone at Little League rubbed my stomach and suggested the birth would happen on April 10, opening day. At this point, I am actually hoping for just a few days from now -- Palm Sunday, which I think would be super cool.

Almost Cliche

I'm not sure that I've ever been so full of anticipation for spring as I have this year. I am probably not the only one.

So yesterday, on the first day of spring, we did some some spring cleaning. The two younger boys cleaned under their beds (Yuck! -- Son3 apparently had been storing a bag of goldfish and some pretzels under there). Then they tackled their closet, which looked like one of those imploding, top-heavy closets you might see in a bad sitcom. Their room took...All. Day. Son1 dealt with his room, took out garbage all day long, and helped me too -- with a whole lot of help from his girlfriend. They took furniture out of his room to make way for the crib and waged war against cat hair. (Ugh. Remind me again why we have pets?) And they assembled the bassinet.

I am not quite sure what I did. Helped the boys with their closet. Did a little refereeing. Cleaned old clothes out of my closet, which also happens to be my laundry room. Washed baby clothes and put them away. Asked other people to do things for me. Fortunately, one of my friends actually volunteered to be here, and she's pretty skilled at ass-kicking. She ordered Son1 and the girlfriend around and did lots of heinous tasks that are too much for my body at the moment. I assure you, there are not many people I would ask to vacuum under my bed. (Remember the pet hair! I think it nearly gave her an asthma attack.) You have to rely on someone really non-judgmental for that. Fortunately, she is just the person.

My husband cleaned the garage and his office and moved probably hundreds of books from our house to a pallet he made in the garage. Last night I went to look at the clean garage and passed the many daffodils that some lovely soul planted years ago. Now they are our daffodils, and they have been busy poking through the ground and growing taller for the past week or two. We've all been eyeing them with much anticipation, commenting on their progress. The other day, some buds appeared, and last night, the first one bloomed.

By the end of the day we were MUCH better prepared for this baby's arrival than when we started. I am so relieved. A perfect first day of spring.

Mood Swing

Yesterday morning I was sitting with my husband before I had to leave for...yes...yet another doctor's appointment. He had received a facebook message from his aunt and was reading it to me. When he finished, he commented on the way that people of his aunt's generation use facebook. This got me thinking about my mom. I wondered out loud if she would have learned to use facebook in order to keep up with her grandkids. I think she would have, though she would have been utterly baffled by it. I know that her grandkids were the reason she learned to use email.

Anyway, I suggested this possibility to my husband, and he proceeded to do a spot-on imitation of her with with her glasses and the way her hands would have flitted across the keyboard and how surprised she would have been by the whole thing. I laughed out loud, a completely delighted laugh. Son2 walked in the room and said, "That was a great laugh." But by the time he said that, I was crying. Tears were rolling down my cheeks because somehow, my husband's imitation had captured her so vividly. It was like seeing a disintegrating snapshot of all that was so funny and wonderful about her.

So I cried, because she is not here, and we will miss all the delight and laughter she would have brought to this crazy situation -- the birth of this unexpected boy, which will happen within days of the birth of what would have been her first great grandchild (my nephew and his beautiful wife are expecting their first baby just two weeks before ours.) All of that delight will be missing. We will talk about it, I know. We will imagine how it would all be even better with her here, but that obviously falls far short of the reality.

So I sat on the couch trying to swallow my tears and my feelings and forget about it. And then from the other room, Son3, who has been listening to this unfold, pipes up and says: "Was that a mood swing?"

And then I was laughing agin.

A Great Acceptance Speech

The other night, I caught a bit of the Academy Awards. I turned it on just in time to see the award for best musical score. Well, I think that was the category. I absolutely loved Up! and I was pleased that its score won, but what I liked better was the artist's acceptance speech. He said that when he was nine years old, he found an 8mm camera in his dad's drawer and asked if he could have it. His dad said yes, and he began making movies. He told the audience that his parents never made him feel like the time he spent making movies was time wasted. He said that no one ever made him feel that way. But he also said that he knew that many kids don't get any kind of encouragement for their talents. He stood up there encouraging kids to use their talents and follow their dreams.

His speech brought me joy. It made my husband cry. For real. We have a little filmmaker at our house. Son2 is constantly dreaming up new stories he can tell in short films. He hears music and thinks about what kind of film it could go in and what might be happening at just that moment when the music plays. He astounds me. I didn't know anything about who I was or what I could do as a kid. I feel grateful that my sons seem to have some idea of what they love and what they can do well.

Well, I say that with a bit of a caveat. Because Son2 doesn't think this is a special talent, or a talent at all. He thinks anyone can make movies. He thinks it would be better if his hair was different (more like his brothers'), he was better looking, and he could play sports. There are times when he would gladly trade in his movie-making abilities for those other things. Fortunately, that's not an option. For the record, we think he's cute just the way he is, and we've never wished he could play sports well (except that it would make him feel better). Just a month ago I talked with him for over an hour about this very thing. He was beside himself. He wanted to be a different person. It was heartbreaking.

But on Monday morning we played that Academy Awards acceptance speech for him, and he smiled a certain kind of smile before he left the room...

High, Low

My thoughts seem pretty disjointed these days. I think about blogging, and then I...don't. So it seemed like the perfect time for High, Low -- the kind of post that doesn't call for thoughts that actually flow together. So here's a few of my recent highs and lows.

High: I got some really cute pictures of the little buddy when I had my latest ultrasound. He looks like Son2, which means I think he looks adorable. Son2 looked at the picture and announced that his brother looks like a pear. Son1 looked at it and said, "He looks like an old man." And I said, "Exactly. That's how your brother looked when he was born."
Low: Still going for ultrasounds every week, and I find the waiting room depressing. So many young, single moms. So many people who make me feel a deep concern for their children's future. Like the couple due any day whose baby weighs less than three pounds and whose toddler runs around the waiting room, drinking some thick pink concoction from her bottle. They call her "Crazy," as in, "Get over here, Crazy." "Don't do that, Crazy." I just want to run out of that waiting room and never look back. I realize this sounds judgmental, but I bet you'd sound the same way if you had to sit in that waiting room.

High: This little dude is coming out soon.
Low: My body has never hurt so much. I literally feel like I won't make it.
Other Low: We still don't have a crib set up...or well, anything set up.

High: There are green things shooting up in my yard.
Low: It's supposed to rain for days, and that means it's going to get really muddy.

High: We've been watching American Idol.
Low: We've been watching American Idol. Is it just me, or is this the least talented group of finalists ever?

High: The little dude supposedly weighs five pounds now.
Low: I've gained more weight so far than I wanted to gain for the whole pregnancy.
Other Low: Everywhere I go, people say annoying things. Why is a pregnant woman's body open season for comments? I mean, if you can't tell me I look great, then just don't say anything. An older gentleman (and I use the term lightly) said to me yesterday in the grocery store, "Due any day now, huh?" I just smiled and thought, "Nope. Due in a month, idiot."

Alright, if I'm being honest, I'm a little more focused on the lows right now -- like the fact that my butt is actually asleep from sitting in this chair too long. The ongoing high is that this baby looks healthy and that we're all excited for his arrival. But the lows keep presenting themselves -- mainly the small physical complaints that accompany the end of any pregnancy, and that seem particularly acute when, like me, you're on the higher end of the age range for childbearing. I literally walk around the house moaning. At times, anyway. So one of your highs should be that you don't have to live with me. Any other highs or lows you'd like to share?