Rebuilding the Empire

Pregnancy and childbirth are so unique.  My experience with them has been extremely humbling and empowering at the same time. I can't think of anything else that requires women to be so attuned to their bodies. There is no room for stubborn goals or unrealistic expectations. My workouts had to be adjusted weekly, sometimes daily, to accommodate how I felt. And there is nothing more real than postpartum weakness in my back, legs, joints, abs, and brain. I think postpartum life, at least temporarily, is anything but beautiful (speaking about ME and not the baby, of course). 

If you can workout during pregnancy, there are numerous benefits, including a distant sense of normalcy, an equally distant connection with your previous non-pregnant self, and the false notion that it will somehow make labor,delivery, and recovery easier. Not so much. There is no "easy" or "easier" for mothers of infants. There is only hard work and constantly shifting expectations. 

I worked out the entire time, completing my final sweat sesh the day before I went in to have Hope. So naturally, I imagined that when I returned to the gym I would pickup where I left off. About Day Three after having her, I was ready to start walking again. This is when I realized that my body had been completely hijacked by some postpartum alien which apparently spent the last three days eating any of my remaining muscle tone; and had also taken a tire iron and repeatedly beaten my legs and back until they were nothing more than a collection of cellulite and weakness. As we walked that first mile, I felt like I had not walked anywhere in a year. The glacial pace was too fast for me and everything hurt. Naturally, I cried. 

Around Day 10, I felt ready to get back in the gym. I was now walking two to three miles at a time and the pace was just slightly faster than what I imagine my dead grandmother walks now. So, I get to the gym and about five minutes into my workout I realize that, once again, I am nowhere near where I left off. In a year, I went from level 10 workouts, to levels 9,8,7,6,5... You get it. 

What the hell happened when I went in to have this baby? I gave birth not only to her, but to my muscle tone, my stamina, my cardio health, and every last bit of my pride and self respect while I was at it. No one tells you that, even though you may stay in shape and eat right while you are pregnant, you still emerge from that delivery room weak, exhausted, and with the muscle tone of a wet sponge. The work of reclaiming your physical self is going to be like rebuilding Rome one brick at a time. I assume the rebuilding takes a shorter time because you have muscle memory going for you, but whatever. I know that when I finally made it back to the gym, I felt like I didn't even belong there anymore. My muscles went from "yo, we are so bad ass" to "wtf are you doing" in a matter of days. In fact, I don't like to workout with my contacts in because I'd rather not see what I look like in those gym mirrors. For some reason, I remember them making me look way more hardcore a year ago. 

For just over two weeks, I went into the gym and did the equivalent of geriatric workouts which I would have designed for actual dead people. Then, one day after I had an incredible night rest involving almost three straight hours of sleep, I had enough energy to do a little run. Uh... How do nursing mothers accomplish this? Are nursing sports bras required? Because I can tell you right now that a regular sports bra ain't gonna cut it. I mean, I was kinda nervous for the guy on the treadmill in front of me. Maybe nursing sports bras are equipped with enough underwire to build a prison wall, which might be ALMOST sufficient enough to support all that nursing moms have going on with their overweighted, working, painfully sensitive breasts. 

I digress....

My note that day in my workout notebook read, "running: WAIT." Although getting a little cardio felt nice, I did get the feeling that my insides might fall out. Weird feeling. 

But I need someone to tell me if nursing sports bras are worth the investment. 

Rebuilding Rome one slow, painful, muscle-depleted brick at a time. The comparison is fair and I am amazed at what the human body can do. Honestly...

I joke about being weak and defenseless, but when I consider what just happened, I am in awe of it all. 

Now, at five weeks PP, I can finally see what MIGHT be a muscle in my arms and legs, but my midsection still hasn't gotten the memo that HELLO! There is no longer a baby in there!! 

Stupid midsection... 

Next up: the baby wants to hang out in the middle of the night and, as a result of these shenanigans, I'm pretty sure I saw the Grateful Dead dancing bears at the foot of my bed the other night. Sleep deprivation truly is an effective form of torture. 

The Newborn Life

I guess my blog may shift gears for a while. I have all these saved posts on different topics, but writing about the Here and Now is going to be a lot more fun. I think writing while being completely sleep deprived and experiencing extreme mood swings is definitely the smartest way to go. It's more genuine and all that. 

How is life with a newborn? This time around, I can only describe it as Surreal. Well, actually, I can describe it better than that. Why else would I write an entire blog about it?

I have to laugh at my prideful foolishness over the years where I swore I was finished
having children. Now, I look at this little person and wonder how my life seemed complete without her. She's so sweet! Along with all the quiet moments of motherly bliss, I have also noticed a few things I totally forgot about since I haven't done this whole New Baby gig in a while. 

This is the first time in my life as an adult that I have essentially hit the STOP button. I'm not rushing anywhere, and haven't for weeks. I love it! This is the closest I will ever be to being an OC Housewife. All I do is eat, sleep, nurse, take care of the kids, and workout. The end. And repeat. It's awesome. However, the flip side of ignoring my work phone and staring longingly and lovingly into my newborn's eyes is the loneliness that comes with being the mother of an infant. I think all moms can relate: having an infant can be isolating AF. 

I struggled a bit with some postpartum blues- they come and go. But I expected that. The reality of the Newborn Life is that there is no one else who the baby really wants; people are typically hesitant to check in or stop over for a visit because they want you to sleep; sleep deprivation makes you sensitive; oh yeah, and none of your clothes fit. You walk around smelling like breast milk and spit-up the majority of the time and for a solid month your entire body hurts. And then there are the fun surprises like gigantic painful breasts, muscle loss, extreme hunger, and more isolation. The baby wants to eat ALL THE TIME (hence, porn-sized boobs), so you ultimately experience this weird "host/parasite" situation... Only you actually love the parasite even when she projectile spits up all over you while she's eating, hence perpetuating the looming musty smell that covers your clothing, shoulders, and chest. My adventures went from flying a surveillance mission in a helicopter or arresting bad guys to strategically planning a trip to the grocery store that doesn't include my child needing to breastfeed as I walk through the store like some primal lady in secluded Africa. It's an adjustment!! 

Those are the downsides, but they are so fleeting. That's what I love most about Baby #3: I am not overwhelmed by the negatives because I already know that within a few months they will all pass. 

The girls are super helpful and they are so in love with Hope. It's incredible to watch all the love that has come into is house because of her. 

Next up: when you workout your entire pregnancy only to realize that the first few weeks back in the gym are more similar to that fat kid from Super Bad attempting to run the Boston Marathon than the Return of the the Great Warrior a Goddess you dreamed about. 

Advent 2016: The Determination of Hoping

It's my favorite time of year again! The season of Advent, which literally means "coming." During this time, the church is in a state pf preparation to celebrate and observe the birth of Christ. We have weekly rituals which highlight the primary themes of Advent: hope, peace, joy, and love. The candles typically are purple (pink for the candle of joy), or they can be blue to symbolise hope and expectation. The Advent wreath is made of fresh evergreens, which symbolize life in the midst of death (winter). During Advent, we wait. 

"Waiting is a period of learning. The longer we wait, the more we hear about him for whom we are waiting." -Henri Nouwen 

While Advent is a time of deep peace and reflection for me, I am always keenly aware that this time of year can be extremely painful and lonely for so many. I can admit that there have been years recently where Advent, although hopeful, has been painful for me. With Christmas being advertized as a time of family and gifts and parties, it's hard to find peace when Loss is the primary state of someone's existence. 

It is in these reflections on loss and turmoil that I came to the realization that Hope is a discipline. It is a determination, a will of its own. It's like eating a healthy diet and exercising and saving money. Hope is a lifestyle which takes practice and aforethought. It's realizing that life has seasons, which means that spring is bound to come. 

"Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness. " -Desmond Tutu 

Hope requires an openness of mind which is free to believe that, although one can't see why winter seems to last so long, there is a supreme purpose for everything (yes, I believe this is an absolute truth). The springtime seems short because when its beauty fades, the all-enveloping darkness of winter- and all the death it causes- is overwhelming. The warmth of the sun can barely be felt or remembered. 

But this brings me back to the evergreen. There is always life in the midst of death. There is always a sparkle in the midst of darkness. Moreover, and most importantly, the sun always rises at the end of night. The seasons change, the light turns to darkness, the darkness is illuminated with the warmth of the sun. 

It takes resolve to see these things. 

"There is no chance, no destiny, no fate, that can circumvent or hinder or control the firm resolve of a determined soul." -Ella Wheeler Wilcox 

When the darkness lasts for years, it might be useful to remember this: the most beautiful metals are made by being melted down completely. Once the refining process is finished, and all impurities have been removed, all that is left is the pure metal. This is what we want. The process is pain and suffering, but the outcome is beautiful. It's similar to a controlled burn in a forest. This is done to allow new life to flourish. 

The process of refinement or a controlled burn is the time when Hope is the most crucial. To me, the season of Advent facilitates a time when this Hope can be practiced through acts of love, kindness, graciousness, and mercy. They say it takes 30 days to form a habit. I think that if people take the month of December and make the focus their mediations on All Things Hopeful, they might have a chance of navigating the next year  with a level of peace they have yet to experience.  

Abraham Lincoln always said things best: "The best way to predict your future is to create it."

Happy Advent, everyone! I hope you find your peace, your sparkle, your life, and your love.  

Hope as the only Option

From Thomas Merton, regarding the nation: "this is a case where, in spite of evidence, one must continue to hope. One must not give in to defeatism and despair, just as one must hope for life in a mortal illness which has been declared incurable. " 

The thing about Hope is that it must be allowed to change our perspective on outcomes. The example of life in spite of an incurable illness is perfect. Life can be lived in spite of that illness. It can be a full and beautiful life with love and laughter and dreams realized. The change in outcome is that it will not be a life lived over an extended period of time, which is what we have come to expect. The life will be truncated. But Hope should not be allowed to flee in spite of that reality. In looking at the state of the nation, and having a long list of human and political concerns, one must never lose hope. Our way of being may be changed when the new president is elected, but accepting the defeat of our nation can never be an option. We must continue our daily work of creating the reality we desire. I believe the only way to create these realities is to hold on to Hope just as tightly as anything we can possibly hold in life. Without it, we are lost in darkness. Perspectives must be allowed to change. To me, this is a sign of growth. It may feel like we are moving backward; like we are losing ground; like our great nation is going to hell in a hand bag... It its moments like these that I think hope and hard work are the most essential. 

We could be on the precipice of greatness, for all we know. After all, controlled burns are used all the time to help grow the most beautiful of landscapes. 

The New Challenge

It has been four years since I posted the original Checkmate blog. During the last several months, I've thought a lot about that blog and how I felt at the time. More recently, I have spoken with several people who encountered a post Checkmate depressive state... a "what now?" conundrum. As I considered the concept of enjoying each achievement without  bounding forward to the next goal too quickly, it didn't occur to me that, eventually, there comes a time when all the goals seem to be met. We spent our twenties at a full sprint, and then the mid-thirties hit-- or you can fill in the appropriate age-- where all the battles are won, all the boxes checked, and it's time to "enjoy" life. Except, there's one problem: how can you enjoy life without goals? I guess some people can, but I have listened to many  people who feel more lost then anything else. Setting new goals seems futile because these new goals will never measure up to our objectives early on. How can "saving for a great retirement" compare with finishing college, graduate school, finding a spouse, or starting a family? How can "paying off all the college debt" compare with buying your first house? Now you've got the wife and the kids and the house, weekends at the soccer field, and the honorable discharge from the military, and you lay in bed at night feeling lost and empty. Because, for some people, "maintenance mode" just doesn't cut it. 

 

New goals: sometimes the most challenging goal is to figure out how to really matter in your world. I mean, REALLY matter. How many people wake up each morning and ask themselves, "What is my purpose for today?" I read about a woman who woke up one morning around the age of 40, and realized that her life was supposed to mean a lot more than raising a family. She became a world class body builder and fitness expert. That had to take some SERIOUS soul searching and commitment. I mean, how does someone even come up with that?

 

Sometimes finding purpose is as fundamental as staring your weaknesses or shortcomings - physical or psychological - in the face, and beginning the trek uphill to right those wrongs. As far as I can tell, those challenges far exceed the ones we face earlier in life. You face these new challenges alone, without an entire generation of people supporting you because they have common goals. The ones who are committed to becoming better and better, and fixing whatever became broken during the years of growing up, are few and far between.

 

Facing the issues-- bad health, a broken marriage, financial folly, personal imbalance, lack of fulfillment, lack of meaningful contribution to your world-- is probably the hardest thing a person can do, right behind raising children. However, behind raising children, I believe it to be the most worthy challenge you will ever accept. 

The Other Side of Visibility

For the last few years, I believed that what I wanted was to experience complete visibility in my relationships.To feel completely visible was my end goal, and I was certain that if I did not have this, my relationships would all remain surface level, lacking in depth and substance.
Only recently did I realize that this idea was too simplistic. Visibility is required to an extent, but beyond that is also the need for mystery, or rather, the respect of mystery. Acknowledgement that our souls are oceans, with depths and corners unknown even to us. The corners have their own life, their own darkness, their own tides and currents. Not only are they not completely visible to us, they may never be visible to anyone else. These corners are discovered by us little by little- some in moments of supreme joy, and many during storms of deep sorrow.

In addition to craving a level of visibility, to the extent of knowing that the people we love see us, and we see them, is the need for our inner circle to respect and embrace our mysteries.

The truth of us, the prism that colors our beings, is too multi faceted to be completely visible to everyone. Just as important as me seeing you is my respect for your darkness- the things that belong to only you (and your god). It is a trust of your mysteries and a dedication to protecting them. I guess I am realizing that part of Visibility, and the love that comes along with desiring to truly see someone else, comes the other aspect, which is protecting the silent place where everyone goes from time to time to either grow or fight demons or rest or explore. It is reading body language and knowing when silence is required; or trusting enough not to ask questions that will overexpose or cheapen another; it is being a warrior without requiring an explanation; or burying a secret and never making mention of it again; protection of the unknown.

True visibility, to me, is not only seeing the people in our lives for who and what they are, and respecting that, but also a level of trust and respect for the isolation that deeper souls require to encounter and experience their own beautiful depths and phases.

Divine Appointments

My meditation and readings this week led me to thoughts of people in my life who have had some tremendous impact on who I am as a person today. As I listed them in my journal, I was able to pinpoint their exact roles, and I knew intuitively why I met them when I did. Some are still in my life as close friends, and others have either drifted away or died. But I can think about them, and know, "Oh, after I met her, I realized how arrogant I truly am"; or, "After I met him, I learned that I crave Community more than I ever knew," and the list goes on. 

After going back through some old notes I had from Thomas Moore's Care of the Soul, and considering what he wrote about the eternity of the soul, I have come to the belief that the names of these people were written on my heart long before I took my first breath. They were destined for me, and I for them, before the dawn of time. Our souls were knitted together for a specific purpose, and the moment we met, fate had been fulfilled.   

My awakening only serves to further intensify the impact these people and events have had. They are like different phases in the beautiful- and sometimes painful- alchemy that has transformed me throughout the years. Even the heartbreak and sorrows, and those who caused them, were instrumental in the evolution of my Self and the ultimate painting of my canvas. 

If you sat down and noted the people who have helped create who you are today, I think you would be amazed at how well choreographed these meetings of "coincidence" really were. And in the end, you might realize, as I did, a refreshing reality:

We have the ability, and possible destiny, to love, and to be loved, by everyone we meet.