For Becca

My father has a saying (he has lots of sayings) that there are three things that you cannot understand unless you experience them firsthand. One is war. The second is sex. And the third is depression. Married just after boot camp before heading to Vietnam, he got his first two experiences early on in life, but it was many years before he felt the pains of depression. It was then he could suddenly understand why others just couldn't "get over it". After our conference in DC last weekend, we stopped by my friend Becca's house to see her and her beautiful new baby girl. Her baby was born in mid-April and she was due to go back to work on July 1. As we chatted on the floor to the sound of baby coos, she lamented her concerns about leaving her little butternut.

And as I sat there looking at her baby, I desperately tried to remember what my life was like when Ian was that small. I have a hard time remembering what it was like when we had to cradle his head as we held him or when he couldn't just wake up and crawl all over us in the bed. There was a time when he weighed less than 20 pounds and still fit in the car seat bucket but that just seems like a lifetime ago.

I remember when we first brought Ian home and I was writing about various issues with nursing or sleeping or diapers or other truisms to newborn parenthood. Several other mothers would suggest things that seemed crazy to me. I now understand that they were just like I am now, trying to offer ideas but losing track of what we'd tried when, mostly because all those first months are a big blur. One thing no one forgot, though, was the feeling of having to leave their baby for the first time.

So I'd like to amend Daddy's saying and add a fourth thing. I'd say that you can't truly understand the storm of emotions that comes with being a mother of a newborn unless you've lived in that body. Even sitting in Becca's living room, I could only imagine the heartache she was feeling in anticipation of going back to work and I'd lived it not six months ago. That period was hard on Rich and I see now how hard it must have been. Because intellectually he knew I was having a hard time but there's no way he could really get how physically painful it was for me. And there's little anyone can do to help. We all just have to weather through the phase and make the best of it.

When I got my prescription for Zoloft, the doctor told me I didn't have postpartum depression. She said I had "situational adjustment with mixed emotions". That diagnosis is the understatement of the year. I think I'll be in a "situational adjustment" for years to come, but at least now I have a better grasp on my emotions.

So I know what you're going through, Becca, and my heart aches for you just like yours does every day at work. Try not to cry too much, but don't worry if you do. Spend every free minute you have holding that beautiful baby girl of yours, smelling her skin and putting your heartbeat next to hers. And soon hopefully those will be the only memories that will stick with you from this transition.

Recap of Living Out Loud volume 18: My brother's keeper

I'm woefully behind. We had house guests this weekend, which was lovely but left little time for writing by Sunday evening. And then yesterday I was all ready to compile our entries but work kicked my ass and then this head cold finished me off at 8pm when the boy and I both went to bed at the same time. Oh, and I have a squirmy baby that rarely naps and doesn't go to bed much before we do. But enough excuses, let's check out our entries!

Kimz' The only only child I'm always fascinated how some single children can grow up as "micro-adults" because they interact with so many adults. And one of my co-workers talks about the challenges of parenting siblings when you've never had to yourself (he and his wife are only children).

Ruth's He ain't heavy Love the squinty photo! Having the shared memories but from other perspectives is a rare treat.

Megan's Big brother I had two older brothers and I don't remember a lot of hair-ruffling. I have always wondered what it would be like to have a sister. :) I look forward to hearing how my kids feel about each other once they're adults (and more than one of them).

Peg's Family Matters Wow, you really were the middle child and then some.

SuziCate's I Am My Own Keeper Six kids over 12 years is a lot. I have a hard enough time relating with just my two brothers let alone all those others. Everyone's perspective is very different even on the same events.

Rachel's The little sister There are lots of things I didn't have to endure as the youngest baby. Part of that was being a girl and part of that was loosening standards by that time. :) But there's a chance to change that behavior as adults. We just have to work on it.

And my own Siblings

As I said earlier, I've been behind. I haven't reminded folks about the LOL deadlines and I'm barely able to get a topic out "on time" (with some leeway given to the on time part). But you all rallied for me. And then when I sit down to read the entries, I'm still just so pleased at the thought you put into them. It makes me proud.

This month I choose Rachel as our winner. Maybe it's because I feel some commiseration about that whole youngest child thing. But her entry struck me as the definition of writing something you wouldn't normally have for the world to see. Thank you so much for sharing!

Rachel will receive a $25 Amazon gift card as her prize but all participants earn my unending appreciation for your writing. I have picked a theme for this month but just have to figure out how to explain it, so hopefully I can do that this week.

Siblings

Whenever I describe my brother Perry, I always say "he looks just like me only 6 inches taller and much more bald." We are very similar in many ways but not quite identical. Perry is six and a half years older than I am. When Mom was pregnant with me, Perry took my ultrasound picture to show and tell to show everyone his little sister. When we were little, everyone said we should have been closer together so we could have played together. We still managed to play just fine.

When I was six months old and Perry was seven, we went to have our pictures taken at Thalhimers. Perry was in charge of making sure I stayed sitting up and getting me to smile for the camera. He would perform all these antics and when I would grin back he'd burst out, "that's my girl!" I'm not sure the photographer knew what to think of us.

I've always said that I know I won't have my father forever, but when he's gone I will always have Perry. In many ways he is our dad on a 30 year delay. This can be charming and frustrating, but at least we know where it comes from.

I have many other people in my life who act like siblings to me. Mr. Smith is one of my oldest and dearest friends and I feel like our families are intertwined on many levels. It was amusing to me when my co-workers commented on my sister at our wedding (last I checked I didn't have a sister). My "sister" was Laura, who had just finished a reading during the ceremony and was walking over the straighten my wedding gown before photos. Ah, right. Maybe I have a sister after all.

But they are not the same as my brothers. We share a sub-culture. We're roadies from the same circus. We know each other's history. We are all actors in the same play, though with our broad age differences it may be that some of us had larger parts in different acts.

That relationship can be difficult to explain to others at times. I'm grateful that Rich is so close to his brother Lee so he understands the importance of it.

In the last month I've sewn curtains for my brother, helped him order his new cell phone and edited several emails intended for a lady friend. He's delivered Pyrex dishes and a million fleece blankets he found on clearance.

We're six and a half years apart but we still manage to play just fine.