Rejoicing and mourning with the 'mom club'

It's remarkable how much things can change in a year.

On January 1, 2012, we had a miscarriage. Just days before, at our family Christmas celebrations, we had shared the happy news that we were expecting. And then, on New Year's Day, we lost the baby.

About two weeks later, my sister, who was nearly six months pregnant, lost her baby, too. The year ahead was looking incredibly bleak.

I had mourned the deaths of loved ones before, but nothing could have prepared me for the loss of my child and of my nephew. Most of those who had gone before had been elderly -- their loss was terribly sad, to be sure, but it was expected. Losing two children within two weeks felt so wrong, so unjust.

In the following weeks, I felt bitterness when I'd log onto Facebook and see updates and photos from moms highlighting their children's achievements, showcasing their beaming smiles. I felt annoyance with the mom-oriented programs at my church, and how the mothers would assemble over car seats and busy toddlers as they sipped their coffees following the service. For a brief moment, I had been in the "mom club," and then it was snatched away from me.

A few months later, we were blessed with another pregnancy. And in December, our dear son was born. A year that started with such loss ended with such a gift. And yet, the heaviness of 2012 remains. My sister still longs for another child. And I long for another niece or nephew. And we dearly miss the children that we didn't get the chance to know.

It's remarkable how much things can change in a year. A year ago, I didn't fully appreciate that children are a gift, not a given. As a girl, I had always assumed that one day I'd get married and have children. And while I eventually learned that childhood dreams don't always pan out, I still just assumed they would for me.

I've also learned that while the camaraderie with other moms is a fabulous thing, the "mom club" can be downright cliquey when one isn't a member -- and worse, when one longs so desperately to be.

In this new year, with our new baby, I remind myself not to take our child for granted. He is a gift. And while I celebrate this gift, I also try to remember the feeling of being on the outside looking in.

Romans 12:15 reads, "Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn." Rejoicing moms: rejoice in that baby! Rejoice in the community of moms! But don't forget to mourn, too. Remember and mourn with the wishing-to-be-moms, the grieving-moms, the struggling-moms. They need to feel part of the club, too.

The two questions

When D was first born, there were two questions I was asked frequently:

Is he on a schedule yet?
... and ...
Is he sleeping through the night?

I know I'm sensitive and read into things too much sometimes (just ask my husband!), and I know these are default questions if you don't know what else to say, but I found, for me, that these questions made me uneasy or defensive at times.

For starters, when D was first born, my "schedule" consisted of figuring out just how on earth to be a mom. I was learning how to breastfeed (not as easy as it looks when you're just starting out!), how to read D's cues, how to function on interrupted sleep. My body was healing, my hormones were going bizerk. This new mom didn't know what a schedule was even supposed to look like! For me, the schedule question made me feel pressured to immediately put myself and D on the clock, on a strict timeframe. Let new moms be new moms: some will be ultra-scheduled, some will go with the flow. But all will need to figure out their own way forward with their unique baby. And that takes time.

Then for the sleep question. Fresh babies aren't supposed to sleep through the night. They have itty bitty tummies and their sleep patterns are different than an adult's. So expecting a little one to sleep all night long is setting oneself up for disappointment. In this case, a new mom who could really use some more sleep. She might think she's doing something wrong, or that her baby is abnormal because he or she woke up every two hours the night before.

So what might you ask instead? Here are a few suggestions:

What has surprised you the most about being a new mom?
How are you feeling?

And, most importantly: When can I drop off that casserole I made for you?

Etsy envy

I've been on an Etsy kick lately.

I love taking the opportunity to support small business and shop handmade. Sure, I could buy similar items for less at generic box stores. But I'd much rather see my money go to individuals rather than to corporations, and I also believe that it's important to celebrate and build up the creative folk around us. They help make the world a brighter, more beautiful place!

Mmm ... handmade soap! I'm currently awaiting
a shipment to arrive from this Etsy shop.

So while I love shopping Etsy, I must confess: I get some serious envy at the skill and creativity out there. I wish I could sew, crochet, knit. Oh, if only I could have a shop that sold beautiful stationery or delicious-smelling soaps!

The problem? While I think I'm fairly creative, I lack the drive to really excel at any one venture. I've dabbled in this, tried my hand out at that. Maybe I just haven't found that one thing that really grabs my attention. Maybe there is some creativity and skill that just hasn't yet been tapped.

Or maybe I'm just better at the shopping than the creating.

How about you? Do you ever have Etsy envy?

Wait ... I'm in this class?

Do you have a recurring dream?

I do. It's stressful.

In my dream, I'm either about to write an exam or am required to hand in a term's worth of homework. It's always for French class. And I've either not gone to the class at all, or have only attended the first one or two lectures.

The rest of the dream consists of the panicky feeling of realizing I'm doomed, and yet still not even attempting to at least do something. I never crack open my books. I don't bother searching for a classmate's notes.

I've awoken from the dream convinced that my degree is about to be snatched away, since I clearly would have failed the course and so wouldn't have enough credits.

I'm guessing this is my mind's way of dealing with lingering stress. Or maybe punishing me for not putting forward a greater effort in French class.

So do you have a recurring dream? If so, I hope it's far more pleasant than mine.