Hibernate Blog

Add to the list of the things you can never truly understand until you are a parent:

Sometimes celebrating a milestone feels like saying goodbye.

Last weekend Nate learned to ride his bike. The sight of him, little feet barely able to reach the ground, neck straining to hold the added weight of his helmet, and eyes alive with excitement, brought unexpected tears to my eyes. Watching his sister hungrily, we had known it was only a matter of time before he put all the pieces together and caught up to her. It is just hard, no matter how proud we are, to remember that he isn’t pedaling away from us, he’s moving forward.

Nate, my little guy, you are getting to be such a big boy, but no matter how far you pedal or how high you climb, you’ll always be my baby.

There comes a moment when the cumulative effects of sleepless nights and demanding days reaches a point of no return. The weary murmurs of, “Will it ever end?” and “Just one more minute, Mama just needs one more minute to sleep,” begin to ebb. The rhythm of the infant march, the feedings and the naps, the rocking and the shushing takes hold and the hard edges blur. There is routine and mastery, maybe even a touch of auto-pilot, until it happens.

You sit nestled in the couch, the house is still but for the gentle post-storm breeze, your laptop or a book rests on your lap, you are at peace. Calm. You pause, feeling something afoot, but unsure of exactly what it is, until you turn. And there she (or he) sits, aglow in loving you.

Pudgy bare feet with wiggly toes extended upward as if stretching to accommodate more joy, eyes twinkling, scanning your face until you smile. You set aside your reading and lean in, “Ah-goo,” she says, and of course you “ah-goo” back. It is hard to know in these moments who is more proud, whose delight soars higher.

What is perfectly clear is exactly your place and purpose in the world.

This moment of joy, life lived fully.

It’s especially nice when the giving we do is for moms.

A while back we were given the opportunity to participate in something extraordinary.

“My name is Sarah and I am writing to inquire if you might be interested in participating in the Stepping out of the Darkness 5k road race for the Day Program at Women & Infants Hospital through a sponsorship.”

The program at Women & Infants Hospital in Rhode Island is truly exceptional and the chance to bring greater attention to postpartum depression was something we couldn’t say no to. Though we weren’t able to attend Sarah, the event coordinator, relayed news of the event to us. We were so proud to be a part of the day.

We’ve also been lucky enough to form a relationship with ten toes of Staten Island, a program that was started by two working professional mothers who wanted to give more to the community. The organization provides a comprehensive blend of education to parents-to-be, with instruction of and exposure to the many different approaches to childbirth.

Recently they sent us this:

Have you been giving to something or someone that makes you proud? Share your story with us!

I was never Homecoming Queen. Wasn’t President of the Class either. I did go to Homecoming, though my date stepped in dog poop outside my house, which proved to be a telling barometer for the future of our relationship.

Tonight I saw a little something that had me feeling as if I were at Zaepfel Stadium circa 1990 being crowned Homecoming Queen, The Nest has posted a SaraBear diaper caddy giveaway. Now, I can’t promise that winning will make you feel like a queen, but if you send me your address after you win, I’ll send you a tiara*.

Now, go sign up!

*We know tiaras at my house.

I remember the warnings as I announced my pregnancy, “Watch out, your memory is the first thing to go” and “You get a baby and you get stupid.” These comments were almost always followed by crass asides about the physical things that would never be the same. I am here to tell you that the physical changes, though difficult in the weeks and months immediately following delivery, are nothing like I imagined. My body is my own, still strong and increasingly lean, prudent choices during pregnancy and an active lifestyle have seen to that.

My memory? Oh mama, it is gone. Gone, gone, gone. I can multi-task - painting a porch while breastfeeding, blogging and rocking a seat with a barefoot, telling a story to two snacking toddlers while doing the dishes, making dinner and drinking a cup of coffee? You bet!

Remembering what I need to buy at the store? I forget that I need lunch meat even as I stand in line at the deli. And my coffee habit? So many times I’ve remembered the filters and not the beans, or the Coffee Mate, but not the filters. It’s devastating, particularly when I forget that I forgot and then pad to the kitchen and realize that my day will not enjoy the boost of a Starbucks jump start.

Last night before heading to the store, I told Sean and the girls that we needed wipes. I also made a list and underlined wipes twice. As I locked the house up I repeated over and over, “Wipes. Get wipes.” Then, owning the fact that I would probably forget the list or simply not look at it, I grabbed a Sharpie and did the deed.

It’s not pretty, but it’s undeniable, I’ve got mama brain and I’ve got it bad.