39 Weeks

It’s official. Cole has been out of my belly for as long as he was in. Motherhood has meant the world to me. I wanted it. I longed for it. I went out and grabbed it. I got it.

Having my first (and only thank you) child  at age 34 has been such a blessing. I was able to get so much of life that this feels like a wondrous continuation of a journey I started long ago. Childhood grew to young adulthood and I was blessed with those experiences. Over the years I have had the chance to try out my skills as a college student, single woman, educated woman, married woman, career woman, and now mother. Each phase of this journey came with it experiences, both painful and joyous, none of which I would take back even for a moment. It has been a natural unfolding of events that led me right to where I was going. I happily leave my “childless” status behind because I ate up that life already. I did what I wanted to do with it and was ready to move on.

Cole is a joy I only read about experiencing. Every cliché phrase that has been said by every mother in existence comes to my mind and rings true in my heart but I won’t bore you with them. If you are a mother, you already know. If you are not, my description will not help. Words just pale in comparison so I’ll leave them unsaid. My journey now turns to focus on someone else’s journey. Someone that I helped create and a journey that I will happily shape until the time comes when his own wisdom will guide him. At that time, I will happily leave this phase having enjoyed everything there was to experience and be ready for what comes next.

Happy 9 months, Cole. I hope you have enjoyed them as much as I.

Widening the Lens

You may have heard people say things like, “seeing the forest through the trees” or “getting lost in the details”. It’s usually in the form of some abstract advice on a problem you might be having. In looking so closely at an issue, sometimes the focus limits us in finding a solution.

I have found that I am a detail-oriented person. I cannot ignore the details. It is so inherent in my DNA that I am compelled to point out things such as editing errors in movies, or grammar/spelling errors in absolutely everything I read, and cringe internally when people mispronounce words or use them incorrectly. I can’t help it. To me, the errors leap into my awareness. I couldn’t ignore them if I tried. The most recent example that comes to mind is when I corrected my step-daughter (ever so sensitively) on her use of the word library. After years of hearing “Lie-berry”, I felt it was time. :)

For most of my life, it seems that this trait has served me well. It helps me be accurate and conscientious. I notice the subtleties in the complexity that is human nature and it has helped me to understand and empathize with others. However, I’ve come to also realize how this trait can narrow my attention and distract me from experiencing some of the more joyful and spontaneous things in life. I can get so focused on details that I miss out on opportunities to just live life...to just…be. 

My husband will confirm that I have this sort of tunnel-vision sometimes. I walk around with this weird scowl on my face. I don’t look at anybody. I just gaze into the air and I appear rather annoyed at it. Naturally, he’s convinced I’m upset despite my protests that I’m not. During the times when I’m able to pull myself out of it, I realize I was just…thinking.  My mind had focused itself on every little thing that was happening, that had happened, and that was going to happen all at once. All of that thinking had completely pulled my focus away from engaging with the people around me. The same people whose relationships I cherish. Suddenly, I’m faced with the down-side to my detail-orientation.

So in my effort to experience more than just a series of life’s details, I’m encouraging myself to “widen my lens”. Much like a camera pulls away to zoom out, I want to view “the big picture” of life.  Rather than getting lost in the details, I will strive to let in some of the beauty and joy that is included in every moment we have. I don’t contend that I’m going to be good at it. But every time that I succeed will be a moment where I feel free.