Craving Connections in a COVID World

 A friend of mine recently posted this photo of cuddling carrots grown from her garden:

A few thoughts:

I want to join you, little carrots!! 😂

These carrots long to be together; they are embracing one another in a hug. I SO love to hug my friends and family. It turns out, after 32 years, I am learning that hugging is my love language. I praise God that I have my four darlings within my home these days so that I can sneak in cuddles whenever I want. It is HARD, though, this life without hugs, high fives, and hand shakes. 

As human beings, we want and we need community and companionship. One of my loved ones states frequently that, years from now, there will be articles written on the devastating social and psychological effects of the isolation caused by COVID. Of course there will be. We are meant to be in community; we are meant to live in companionship with others. 

Still, I will not forego my responsibility to my brothers and sisters. Like you, I will socially distance and skip out on hugs. I will smile with my eyes over my mask. I will shout hello to a stranger across the street.  I will say a prayer for the driver in front of me at the stop light.  I will send my neighbors cards through their mailboxes and send videos of my daughters to their cousins and school friends. I will showcase signs of love and support from my front yard. I will graciously accept the dropped-off donuts from a dear friend, and I will run outside to say hello to a sister visiting from a nearby suburb. 

Yes, I am feeling all the feels today, as COVID has ruined yet another set of plans. COVID, how dare you. Seriously.  I had this delicious weekend in the works, and you stripped away another chance at a modified reunion with my community. In the grand scheme of things, this botched weekend is so tiny. But it is just one more thing. One more loss caused by this pandemic. I am sad, and I am missing my hugs-- and I am hopeful. 

I look to the future with hope and with optimism. With the easy parts of communing torn from us, we are creative in our ways to show our love and support.  While I am saddened by the reaction of the few, I am comforted and emboldened by the reaction of the many. We can do this together. We can do it for one another. Here's to thinking, speaking, and acting in a way that changes our world for the better.

Signing off for now. If you need me, I'll be at home, cuddling with my carrots. 

My Breastfeeding Journey

This is my breastfeeding journey:    

June was my first baby to nurse. When she was born, we danced the breastfeeding dance so gracefully. Everything was lovely. Breastfeeding, to me, was motherhood—and motherhood was breastfeeding.

As my exhaustion caught up with me around June’s eighth week, though, my postpartum depression and anxiety began rearing its ugly head, and breastfeeding was no longer graceful, no longer lovely. I stressed about every little piece of nursing. I worried about how I would find time to pump between patients. My supply had been strong, yet I now worried about how and where I would store my frozen milk. I researched every little detail to any unhealthy degree and set standards far too high. I found—and created—any reason to worry.

When a lovely friend, colleague, and fellow mama reminded me that giving formula was a perfectly viable option, I cried my eyes out. It was true. With much deliberation and support from my husband and family, I opted to allow my supply to dry up while we transitioned to giving bottles. It was a horribly scary time. I was angry, and I was so sad. While I knew something had to give to help me become whole again after the crippling weeks of anxiety, I still felt so defeated. I feared I was no longer the mother I dreamt I would be.

And then I gave the bottles.

And my beautiful daughter ate.

And she grew.

And she was happy.

And I grew.

And I was happy.

And I could relax.

And now Baby June is three. And she’s a big sister twice-over. And I have nursed two more babies. And I have fed bottles to these babies. And we are happy. And we have learned to be flexible. And we have learned to dance our own dance.

Mama & big girl, June

Nursing June in the hospital!

Nursing-- & hiking!-- Rose

Post-nurse Naomi

And we are so, so proud of who we are, where we’ve been, and where we’re going.

Own your story, give yourself (a whole HEAP of!) grace, and know that what is right for you is right for your child.

Also, June told me last night that I make her heart happy. If 8-week-old June could’ve spoken, I know she would have expressed similar sentiments. Her mama was working so hard and truly doing her best. Aren’t we all? ☺️ Keep on keepin’ on, friend. You make our hearts happy!