"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.  

Sauerkraut and Christmas

 My grandmother was a Brunner so I suppose she learned young how to make a mean sauerkraut, a richly inexpensive, labor intensive German dish made from cabbage. As a young child my mother gave it a go on occasion, probably as a nod to our German heritage, expecting her five children to love it as much as we oddly enough loved liver and onions.

I don't recall if I was the only one that despised sauerkraut but I do remember having to sit at the table and choke it down because coming from a large Catholic family, if we didn't eat what was put in front of us, we were not given seconds of what we liked and often "strongly encourage" to sit until we finished our plate. I sobbed when we had sauerkraut, I begged when we had it (almost as much as when we had peas and eggplant) but to no avail. I ate the nasty stuff and hated every minute of it.

My mother figured out that it was easier and less stressful to make and serve food we all liked so I spent many a happy years not eating my least favorite food, the dreaded sour-beyond-belief-sauerkraut that tasted like my brothers' socks smelled.

When I first got engaged and we spent 7 days at the future in-laws house for a week during Christmas break from college, I was thrilled. My future mother-in-law was the consummate hostess. She loved having family near. She balanced an ex-husband, a current husband, three kids, her mother, her brother and many beloved friends during the holidays. Their house was the place one wanted to be.

The house was decorated, the cookies were baked, the food was plentiful and we played games every night. The tree was bursting with new gifts and memories in each ornament of years gone by. The fireplace was roaring and everyone ran to the door when someone arrived. It was a place filled with love, laughter, joy and a reason to celebrate how lucky we all were to be under that roof.

The holiday arrived and we all had more gifts than anyone deserved. We had amazing meals and we all watched as Judy conducted the show. The kids ironically talked about how "Mom always blows up during the holidays." and took side bets on which day that would happen. At the time I foolishly thought it was kind of amusing and wondered why it happened but didn't take the time to try to understand why. It would be many years before that piece of the puzzle found it's way to me.

After a week of amazing dinners and late night celebrations on our last day Judy announced we'd be having sauerkraut and sausages for our final meal. I was instantly a 7 year old child who sadly felt it was appropriate to express on several occasions how I felt about sauerkraut. As it slowly simmered on the stove I was relentless in my rudeness about my distaste for it and as I reflect back on my 20 year old self, I am ashamed.

I inwardly cringe when I think about the fact that my rant was the cause of my future Mother-in-laws meltdown that year.

Up to that point I had no idea what her kids had been talking about then I found myself deservedly at the center of it. She blew up. She put me in my place and let me know how ungrateful I was and how hard it is to cook for a house full of people for a week and to make everything perfect and to decorate and have no one help and to stay up late playing games and doing everything possible to make it perfect for her family (deep breath here) and to spend all that money and time and effort and to make a very special family meal (she was born a Freytag) and to have someone be so rude about it.....you get the picture. I'm six feet tall and I felt about three feet tall.

Fast forward 35 years.

I can't help but cry when I take down my decorations. I cry because of the treasured memories encompassed in not only the decor but in the act of taking it all down and reflecting on the season and the many memories of celebrations gone by. I am certain that when my then future MIL took down her decorations that year, it was with a mixture of sadness, anger, happiness, relief and resentment.

After 30 plus years of recreating the story book Christmas for my own young and many family members and friends, with the women in my life; my mother, my MIL and generations of loving women leading families as my example, I now understand.

I show love to my family by making my home, my meals, my time and my presence the present during the holidays. It takes effort. It takes time. It takes money and it takes planning. It takes it's toll, one that my ancestral females all simultaneously suffered from and treasured.

I don't know if there is a local bookie that annually secures my children's bets on when I'll melt down, but from their gentle teasing I know they expect that it might happen. Some traditions just carry on no matter what we do to prevent them.

So while taking down the decor and tucking away the seasons newest memories I'm reminded.

I remember that fateful day that I was the straw that broke the camels back. I'm reminded that my own clan is too young to understand my own experience of the season and that our own sauerkraut moments are bound to happen.

I know with certainty that someday I will pass the baton to one of my unsuspecting daughters or daughter in laws and I will sit back and remember.

I will know that the joy they experience is worth the moments they won't be proud of.

I will know that they do it out of love for the season and for their family.

I will know that they too will cry when they take down the decorations that represent so many decades of memories both to be treasured and carefully tucked away into a space of shame with the promise of doing better next year.

I will know that they will hope for the perfect holiday but that the perfect holiday means someone will likely blow up and that it will most likely be them.

I will know that in 30 years, they will have the grace to gaze lovingly upon their young and know and understand the future baton holders aren't capable of understanding that sauerkraut at Christmas might just be a part of the equation and that it's a dish best served in the warmth of family, love and tradition.