"Mom, did you ever feel loneliness after we were born?"

When my youngest daughter recently asked me about giving birth and how it went, for a class she was taking, I decided to send her an email because I couldn't possibly explain it all by text message. Once the floodgates were open I was shocked to find myself back in those early days of motherhood. 

When I explained each of my three deliveries, how they differed, how they were the same, how I felt, what I wish had been different, etc., she then emailed back, "I can't believe you ate a whole block of cream cheese in one sitting!" and "Did you ever feel loneliness in the first year after we were born?"

It was really hard to write back. 

I never want my children to feel like things might have been "off" in their childhood, however the reality and sticky, messy part of parenting is that it isn't always easy.

What I discovered as I wrote the story of my journey into motherhood is it was harder than I like to remember. It's nature I suppose, how we survive those early years and somehow as time goes on and kids get easier we forget how really hard it all can be.

This is how I replied:

"Yes, I was lonely with our first especially because we moved away from home, to Idaho Falls 1 week after he was born and I didn’t know anyone but your dad who worked a lot. We moved to Salt Lake City when he was 4 months old and there were two ladies there that I’d known from dads work when we lived in Boise, so at least I had them but they weren’t very nice to me. They had kids and they were both overweight as a result and they were just mean about the fact that I wasn't. One of them left out these super tiny curio things all over her house and “taught” her kids not to touch them. Alex didn’t do well at her house.

We also lived near Steve and JoAnn but they didn’t have any kids so we didn’t get together often. I didn’t work outside the home and we were super poor and I could only shop on triple coupon days. I loved being a mom but I was so lonely for family and friends. I’m sure I was depressed looking back. One day JoAnn said that she couldn’t understand why I’d want to be home with a baby. It kind of hurt my heart because I felt like she thought I should be working and that what I was doing wasn't important. When she delivered Lindsay, her first, she called me crying and apologized and said she totally got it now.

I went to the Catholic church hoping to find fellowship and friends. No one ever approached me or talked to me and I was too shy to put myself out there. I thought having a baby with me would help, but it felt more lonely to be with people who I thought should be MY people in the heavily populated Mormon state I lived in but I left disappointed. Your dad didn’t go to church back then so again I felt isolated.

Before he was born I never understood how a parent could be abusive. I had one of those moments when he was about two months old and he wouldn’t stop crying that I looked at our balcony and thought about just tossing him off of it. I started to sob at the thought of it so I put him in his crib and went and took a shower and sobbed for about 30 minutes. I kept thinking that I now understood how bad things can happen and that I was lucky enough to have the capacity to problem solve that moment and do something to take care of myself. When I returned he was sleeping peacefully in his crib. I cried until he woke up and I could hold him again. I never had that again with any of you.

When we moved away from Salt Lake City he was just over a year. I realized I didn’t have anyone to call to say goodbye to. That broke my heart and I promised that I would never let that happen again. When we got to Reno, I joined the Welcome Wagon and became very involved because I recognized I needed a village and I’d gone way too long without one. A year later I was getting a divorce and moving back home."

So yes, I experienced loneliness as a new mother. Which could be part of why I built a village around myself with the other two. A place where I would never be lonely and I could help others who perhaps were, especially other new moms.

Happy mother's day to all moms, new, and old but especially to those experiencing loneliness right now.  

Parenting and Math are hard!!

I went to college to become a teacher.  I dabbled in other things like design because I was good at it but eventually my desire to work with kids and impact lives in a classroom prevailed so the college of education got me.  Admittedly part of that decision could've stemmed from the fact that I struggled with math and I only had to take a methods course in Elementary Education to learn how to teach math, a subject I knew very little about.

Regardless, my image of myself as a teacher who would have fun summer days with my then imaginary children seemed ideal.  It resonated well with my potential husband too, so a teacher I became. 

Shortly after getting married in college and graduating we moved to Boise and a teaching job was no where to be found. I was told the market was saturated and I should have gone into nursing.  Ugh!  Who wants to be a nurse?  Blood, poop, urine, illness, vomiting, crying (not to mention all that math!)

So after several months doing temporary types of clerical work we decided to start a family before a career.  My husbands career was progressing nicely and so our first baby showed up, a bouncing baby boy about a year later.

When I held that little man I suddenly shared something with, I'm guessing, the majority of the population with a newborn.  It's that feeling that there is absolutely NO ONE in this world who can take better care of him than ME!   

In many ways I was right.  But then so are all the other moms and dads that think that.  What it meant was that there is no one in this world that can possibly love them more or sacrifice more for that little person than their parents.  It provided me with an entirely new perspective on this business of childcare and preschool and a deep respect for those that had to use it despite this feeling that I now knew they all must be experiencing.

Fast forward through some times that we'll come back to eventually, but when I found myself needing a job, really needing a job to support myself, I worked at a childcare for the sole reason that I didn't want to or couldn't leave my 2 year old son.  I thought that I'd only do it for awhile.  I would grace this industry with my presence and education beyond what was needed and do myself a favor in the process.

heh heh heh...it's funny how life has a way of humbling us without notice.

Amidst the laughter, tears, blood, illness, fun, parents, volunteers, vomiting, staff, owners, urine, poop, tricycles and yes math as an administrator I found myself and my path alongside my son and consecutive 2 daughters, and those dreamy summers I'd envisioned never materialized.

That was over 27 years ago and hundreds and hundreds of children and families ago.  A few of those children now bring their children to one of our facilities.  It's been a privilege and a joy and here is where I've decided it's time to share some of the incredible stories of this journey. 

Parenting is hard.  It's made harder when we have to do it alone or in a vacuum with our significant other.  It is equal parts joy, fear and anguish. Some people make it look easy and it simply isn't.  

The incredible things I've learned from my parents, other parents, all of the amazing teachers I've worked with, my incredible volunteers and board members and raising my own family all contribute to the possibility that I might actually know something that might be of use to other parents.  

That all adds up to an equation, that computes to a sum, that in all probability leads to a formula for success, at minimum, a fraction of the time.  

And you thought my math hadn't improved in all these years. 

A Career is born

It was 1959 and my heavily drugged mother yelled out in the delivery room, “Thank God it’s a girl, I’m so sick of looking at penises!”  No self-respecting, pillbox hat wearing, Catholic mother in a Catholic hospital would yell out such a thing, but I was baby number 4, number 3 that survived childbirth and the first born girl.  I was a treasure she’d long awaited and the star of the family for a few short years.

 

About two years later my sister Susie arrived and on her heels Jeanine. The intruders are pictured above, I'm snuggled up next to my mom.  My princess crown slipped slightly as the sheer numbers increased but also because Susie had some special needs that my parents were alternately denying and embracing as parents do when faced with a cognitive disability.

My favorite activity with my parents remained sitting on their laps having them read me a book.  I’d evidently spent a fair amount of time doing this early on when I was the reigning princess that I never forgot how incredibly satisfying those moments were.  They became more and more rare as time went on and I can recall how sad I was about that at the ripe old age of about 3.

It seems like I spent eons watching my brothers leave for school, with me begging to be able to go, while my mom reassured me that I would be next…and best of all when I got there I would learn to read.  I was ecstatic. 

No more would I have to wait for someone to read me a book. 

I would have the special power to decode those exotic symbols that took me to places I’d never been, about people I’d never met, about experiences I never had.  I couldn’t imagine a greater power of any kind.

Fast forward an eternity later and I am finally standing in my first classroom at my Catholic school a little nervous about the nun whose veil hung to the floor as she quietly swooshed through the classroom of 25 eager 1^st graders.  She had us line up in the front of the classroom where we could clearly see the large alphabet hung above the blackboard.  She went down the line and pointed with her wooden pointer to each letter and then to one of us standing in that row to say the letter aloud.  The smell of fear suddenly overpowered the lovely first day smell of new crayons and freshly starched uniforms.

As my turn approached not only was I shaking in my newly purchased black and white saddle shoes, but as was my way, I wanted to throw up or pee my pants.  I did not know any of the letters and slowly watched as it got closer and closer to me being called upon.  Mortified I muttered a letter that someone had said a few try’s back and she kindly corrected me (thank GOD for her) and moved beyond me.

We performed a similar exercise with addition and as I heard people’s answers to her equations I searched through my limited data bank for patterns to help me when my name was called.  Again, I failed miserably (in my mind) as she gently told me the answer.  I know there were others that didn’t know the answers too, but on that day, in my mind, it was just me. 

I was furious when I arrived home even after walking the mile trek, all uphill of course.  I stormed in and announced, “I didn’t learn how to read today!!  I’m not going back!”  I tried to cover my shame with anger and vowed not to return. 

My mother took me into her arms and told me it takes a very long time to learn to read and that today was just a start.  I cried.  I told her why I was crying…because no one ever read me books anymore and all I wanted out of this school thing was to learn to read books. 

Through my hiccupped explanation she quietly listened and when I was done, she took a moment that I’m sure she could barely spare, sat me down on her lap, and read me a book.  She patiently pointed out letters and helped me begin to decode my first book.

My soul soared.

My job today is all around making sure no little person goes into school on the first day ecstatic to learn, and exits defeated at how little they know.  The early years are crucial to a child’s future success in school and the more information they have in their arsenal that first day, the more confident learner they are.  Studies show they actually are more likely to finish school, go beyond high school, and contribute to society in meaningful ways.

I hope it’s obvious that I did learn to decode just a little and that I can now scrap with the rest of them as I wrangle with words to explain why this is important.  My life’s work has been to create places for children and their parents from which to launch into kindergarten and beyond.

It may not seem so lofty,

but for a quivering little girl in saddle shoes,

it would have meant the world to have known just that one letter.