Empathy

I just can't bear it when my little girl gets hurt. Not the little bumps that come with being three, which can be healed by Mommy's magic touch and smile. I mean the kind of boo boo that causes her serene little face to crumple into that heart-wrenching cry that takes her breath away. Only Mommy's arms and boo boo kitty can even begin to soothe this kind of hurt. And I feel her pain and more, because I couldn't prevent it.

That's the hardest part of being a mother. Watching your child suffer. I feel it deep in my stomach, a tingling twinge that just aches to take the pain on myself so she doesn't have to feel it. There's guilt too, but that comes later. In the moment, my brain searches for the soothing words that will help calm her and soothe me too. I whisper it's alright, Mommy's here. And then--in what seems like an eternity for both of us, but really it's only an instant--the pain begins to fade; she loosens her grasp around my neck, looks up at me with her teary blue eyes, and I smile. I'm sure she sees my sadness there; lurking beneath my healing facade lives a boundless empathy for her, for whatever part of her little body or soul that was injured and might still smart.

I put on a brave smile and think of some distraction, something that will turn her attention to happier thoughts. It always works, but I still hurt for her, even after she's climbed down from my arms and moved on, the whole thing behind her. I marvel as she's off, the pain forgotten, as carefree and daring as ever to explore the world. And I struggle through the memory, the guilt of what I could have done differently to better protect my little girl.

How easily children can let go of pain; and what a gift that is.

The Joys of Pregnancy

Oh, the joy of pregnancy. And the discomfort. This one is definitely harder on me than the last. I'm no spring chicken, I know, which is probably why it's been harder. So, as this is my last pregnancy, I want to remember every bit of it, warts and all. At five months and three weeks, I now catalog the daily struggle. And being the positive person I am, I also am pointing out the upside of it all.

1. I can no longer bend over at the waist for any reason, and yet I find myself constantly having to pick up everything--toys, things I drop--off the floor (see #3). Not only do I miss the object I was trying to reach, but instead I get a rush of blood to my head that makes me nearly faint.
The upside: It's a great excuse for a messy house.

2. I cannot get up gracefully from my sofa, which has the firmness of Jello; it's probably like watching a walrus struggle out of the sea, but it has to be done, especially if I have to pee.

The upside: Staying put and having someone else do what I was going to do--unless it's time to go pee.

3. Suddenly, I can no longer hold onto more than one thing at a time without dropping at least one of them. Don't expect me to handle fine china, or anything breakable for that matter. And don't expect me to pick it up, either (see #1).

Is there an upside to this?

4. I don't even think about managing more than one thought at a time now. Chaos ensues. Mostly in my head, but to me, that's enough to cause a verbal collision or a brain fart--my thoughts up and vanish in the wind.

The upside: Everyone forgives me for my thoughtlessness. Even when I'm mid-sentence.

5. I can't watch an even slightly sappy or sentimental movie, television show, or commercial without bursting into empathetic tears. The same thing seems to happen when I'm laughing. Don't ask me why. And I can't even mention things that annoy me. Let's just say that now I fully understand the need for a 3 day waiting period to buy a gun.

The upside: People are always asking how I'm feeling. Coincidence?

6. I can't stay awake one minute past 10:30 pm, or asleep one minute past 7 am.

The upside: 8 hours of sleep a night, minus the 3 am pee break.

The downside: All those forgotten thoughts come to me during that 3 am pee break.

7. I can't walk, sit, or stand comfortably for more than five minutes. I can't carry a basket of laundry or anything large anymore: it just doesn't mold well to my watermelon belly.

The upside: Everyone always asks if I need help.

8. I expect to forget at least one thing every day: an item at the store, a bill to be paid, and errand to run, a phone call, an appointment. Every day.

The upside: Everyone is so understanding if I arrive without the promised item or appropriate positive response to: "Did you do so and so today?" I appreciate your patience! I'm sure you'll all get even with me later....

9. Too much or too little activity causes Braxton Hicks contractions, leg cramps breathlessness or light headedness.

The upside: foot and leg rubs, back and neck massages, and a very good reason to put my feet up.

10. Everything I eat now causes indigestion.

The upside: eating and drinking almost always evokes a response from the little one inside. She kicks, burbles and squirms, which reminds me how worth it all this discomfort is!

Random thoughts

It's a manic day. Chief's tumor is benign. yeah! Maisey's been acting like pure heathen. boo! I think she's overtired, and I'm putting her down for naps and bed way too late. Clint's been on travel, which will continue through the weekend. boo! And my lack of patience doesn't help. Things must change. It's been raining, so we can't expend any energy outside. She's been jumping on the sofa, and climbing it like a jungle gym--she actually broke a spring on one end of the couch. Heathen! The naughty chair just doesn't command any respect. When did that happen? What can I do? If I weren't pregnant I'd have three options: red wine, yoga, or Sweetie. Forget the red wine: with all the complications of this pregnancy I'm not taking a chance. Forget yoga: I couldn't get out of (or into) even the simplest pose. Ah Sweetie. A good long trail ride used to do the trick, but again, no riding while pregnant. But I can go feed her carrots and groom her. She loves a good grooming. I just hope I'll be able to reach her legs.

Maisey's Garden

Maisey planted her own "garden" in a big metal tub on our patio about a month ago. She loved digging the dirt and dropping in seeds. And she was thrilled when the plants started to grow. She points out the window to Daddy every day, saying, "look Daddy, my plants are growing!"

She's so proud. I didn't think they were going to make it. I thought they were being eaten by insects, but I caught the dog red-handed (or red-toothed?) nibbling on her sunflower seedlings. It also doesn't help that, every time we go out on to the patio to play, part of her "inspection" of the flowers includes plucking either a leaf or an entire plant from the pot. A few of them came up roots and all, and I put them back. The rest are just casualties, I guess. Today she plucked the only two flowering nasturiums from the pot. However she tends to it, I'm just happy she's interested in gardening.