Here's the thing about low-grade depression, the kind you find yourself lugging around with you after something really horrific happens in the world: it's big, but it's murky. It's hard to identify. In fact, I was thinking today that if I were a busier person, I might not have picked up on the fact that I was feeling really low. Or if I did, I might have attributed it instead to some annoyance about my day, or the fact that I was tired, rather than recognizing that yes: I am feeling depressed because of everything I saw on the news yesterday.
I have a theory that some part of the brain knows that even when we're not directly affected, the news wounds us, somehow, and we deserve to heal, so it latches itself onto whatever it can find that connects us to the tragedy, makes it relevent to us, and us to it.
For me: I keep telling people that this is a Tech town. And that's true; I would bet that the majority of the university-bound kids in Abingdon go to Tech. But does this make the situation harder for me personally? Not really. And yet, I keep bringing it up. I feel the need to establish, in most conversations today, that I live in a Tech town and that is my connection.
Here are some comments posted in response to Hode Kotb's Dateline piece, Not at my Alma Mater.
"My daughter is currently attending MI Tech. Through all of this, I have felt I am there with all those parents who children attend VA Tech."
"I'm not a VT grad, rather an alumni of James Madison University ('81), but I fully understand the sense of community, pride, and security we all felt at our schools."
"My grandfather taught and retired from the engineering department."
We did this after 9-11 too. Me? I was six miles from the Pentagon. You could see the smoke from the top row at Byrd Stadium. Did I go to the top row of Byrd Stadium, did I see the smoke? No, I didn't. I went to the stadium and changed my mind. I didn't want my connection to be quite that real, I suppose. I remember that almost everyone I knew talked a lot about people in their lives-- sometimes friends of friends of friends-- who had at one time worked in the World Trade Center. I'm also realizing how quick I am to bring up the fact that an acquaintance of mine was in the library at Columbine High School when so many of her classmates died.
I honestly don't think anyone does this to try to get sympathy or make it all about them. Or maybe we do, but maybe we're just not equipped to process the hugeness of these events as they are. The numbers don't even register sometimes. So we break it down into something we can relate to, or at least we try.
So here I am (100 miles from Blacksburg, for the record), thinking about every creative writing class I ever took, in which at least a handful of students would submit terribly dark pieces and it never occurred to me that they might be troubled (I still don't think so, by the way; I think the majority of college students who write terribly dark things are doing it to prove that their ideas are adult enough, edgy enough).
I'm thinking about tornados on campus, snipers just miles from campus, stabbing deaths on Knox Row, and the logistical nightmare that would have been locking down an institution of UMD's size.
I'm thinking about how what saddened me more than almost anything yesterday was the look on the (interim) campus police chief's face as he got pounded with questions, accusatory questions, questions he had no answers for. I guess it's my thin-skinned-ness, my fear of letting people down, doing the relating in that case.
But yeah. I can't relate to 33 dead, or 33 families suffering. And I'm not sure that will ever make any sense to me. I hope it doesn't to any of you.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Monday, April 16, 2007
Firsts!
Last week was an eventful one. First of all, remember how Lea rolled from back to front for the first time at 3 months? Yeah, she didn't do it again for a very long time. Then last week, she rediscovered this particular skill, and now she rolls like crazy. So much so, that I actually caught her in mid-air after she rolled off the corner of the bed in her room. No photo evidence of that, unfortunately.
Next big milestone: first cereal! (I'll first say that until I was very pregnant, I was always mystified when people talked about cereal for babies. I didn't get it. Cereal?? Like Cheerios?? For those who are similarly confused, here it is: baby cereal is basically gruel. It comes in powder form, usually a single ground-up grain, to which you add breast milk or formula or whatever. Like cream of wheat, except babies usually start with rice. Ok. Moving on.)
The first rice cereal feeding was a huge hit. The kid was lunging at the spoon, and grabbing my wrist to bring the stuff in faster. Since then, the novelty has worn off, and perhaps the fact that the stuff is pretty flavorless has caught on. But she still seems decently eager to eat solid food, which is a big signal to me that we are entering Real Baby Land. By this I mean: so far, life with Lea has been decently simple. We haven't required much gear, and quite a few of the typical items you associate with babies have been pretty absent from her life-- bottles, pacifier, rattles, bibs, etc. But now that she's eating something other than my milk, she seems a lot more like what I always pictured all babies to be. Messy, for starters.
Another baby item that is new to us-- a real crib! Until last week, Lea slept in our room, in the bassinet feature of a Pack-n-Play (basically a small, portable crib). We had the P-n-P right next to our bed, which made nighttime feedings so easy I practically slept through them. But the bassinet has a weight limit, which we are rapidly approaching, so we finally got around to setting up the crib in Lea's room. I had a lot of fun prettying up her room, and once it was basically finished: first night's sleep in her own crib!
Here's some other views of her room:
Oh yeah, and....
First time I really felt like I was living out a scene from The Day after Tomorrow. Snow-- slushy snow, and less than an inch-- but SNOW. On April 15th. Apparently nor'easters can find their way to central Appalachia.
Next big milestone: first cereal! (I'll first say that until I was very pregnant, I was always mystified when people talked about cereal for babies. I didn't get it. Cereal?? Like Cheerios?? For those who are similarly confused, here it is: baby cereal is basically gruel. It comes in powder form, usually a single ground-up grain, to which you add breast milk or formula or whatever. Like cream of wheat, except babies usually start with rice. Ok. Moving on.)
The first rice cereal feeding was a huge hit. The kid was lunging at the spoon, and grabbing my wrist to bring the stuff in faster. Since then, the novelty has worn off, and perhaps the fact that the stuff is pretty flavorless has caught on. But she still seems decently eager to eat solid food, which is a big signal to me that we are entering Real Baby Land. By this I mean: so far, life with Lea has been decently simple. We haven't required much gear, and quite a few of the typical items you associate with babies have been pretty absent from her life-- bottles, pacifier, rattles, bibs, etc. But now that she's eating something other than my milk, she seems a lot more like what I always pictured all babies to be. Messy, for starters.
Another baby item that is new to us-- a real crib! Until last week, Lea slept in our room, in the bassinet feature of a Pack-n-Play (basically a small, portable crib). We had the P-n-P right next to our bed, which made nighttime feedings so easy I practically slept through them. But the bassinet has a weight limit, which we are rapidly approaching, so we finally got around to setting up the crib in Lea's room. I had a lot of fun prettying up her room, and once it was basically finished: first night's sleep in her own crib!
Here's some other views of her room:
Oh yeah, and....
First time I really felt like I was living out a scene from The Day after Tomorrow. Snow-- slushy snow, and less than an inch-- but SNOW. On April 15th. Apparently nor'easters can find their way to central Appalachia.
Monday, April 9, 2007
Friday, March 23, 2007
I live in a place...
... where the sign outside Shoney's has changed from "Try Our Breakfast Buffet!" to "#3, You'll Always Race in our Hearts," and everyone knows why.
That's right, friends, it's race weekend! And here we are, mere minutes from the Bristol Motor Speedway, where people have been "camping" for upwards of 10 days, shelling out hundreds of dollars a night for plots of asphalt to park their RV's.
Oy.
So I had a revelation today, while I was waiting in line at K-Mart for a very, very, very long time as the many people ahead of me bought tailgating supplies. You know how some people have tried to reclaim Black Friday as "Buy Nothing Day", and pledge to spend no money to try to counteract the impact of all that retail madness?
I am hoping to make the remainder of this weekend "Drive Nowhere Weekend." If anything, this will preserve some of my sanity, since most places we might find ourselves driving promise to be absurdely crowded. But also... maybe I'm a snob, but my biggest issue with Nascar and the like is the utter wastefulness. So hey, maybe I can find a way to make "Drive Nowhere Weekend" catch on in communities The Race descends upon once or twice a year, and use a little less fuel. Or maybe I will just enjoy walking places this weekend. It shouldn't be hard. Here's a list of cool and useful places we can walk to:
(1) Zazzy'z coffeehouse and independent bookshop. OK I really am a snob because I just feel cool and intellectual and interesting when I'm there.
(2) The Washington County Public Library.
(3) The Trail Cafe', which is situated at the head of the
(4) Virginia Creeper Trail.
(5) At least three different churches, two of which we've been to, and the third of which(the closest, actually), we might attend this weekend: The Charles Wesley UMC, which has its roots in the African Methodist Episcopal tradition.
(6) Food Country, an average-sized, average-quality grocery store.
(7) The Whole Health Center, a tiny, very crunchy grocery store with local eggs, meat, and milk, and other fun things like homemade soaps and really interesting looking teas.
(8) The Barter Theatre-- Virginia's state theatre, in fact (whatever that means!)
The only problem is that the S-curve on Walden Road (which connects our little street to the main part of town) is without a sidewalk. Not such a big deal if one of us is feeling energetic enough to tote the kid in one of our various baby carriers, but a bit dicey with the stroller. Every once in a while I envision myself in a Stars-Hollow-town-meeting type situation, petitioning the town council for a sidewalk around that curve. I think if the circumstances were just so, I could get crazy into local politics. Especially if I found myself up against a Taylor Doose. That'd be awesome.
That's right, friends, it's race weekend! And here we are, mere minutes from the Bristol Motor Speedway, where people have been "camping" for upwards of 10 days, shelling out hundreds of dollars a night for plots of asphalt to park their RV's.
Oy.
So I had a revelation today, while I was waiting in line at K-Mart for a very, very, very long time as the many people ahead of me bought tailgating supplies. You know how some people have tried to reclaim Black Friday as "Buy Nothing Day", and pledge to spend no money to try to counteract the impact of all that retail madness?
I am hoping to make the remainder of this weekend "Drive Nowhere Weekend." If anything, this will preserve some of my sanity, since most places we might find ourselves driving promise to be absurdely crowded. But also... maybe I'm a snob, but my biggest issue with Nascar and the like is the utter wastefulness. So hey, maybe I can find a way to make "Drive Nowhere Weekend" catch on in communities The Race descends upon once or twice a year, and use a little less fuel. Or maybe I will just enjoy walking places this weekend. It shouldn't be hard. Here's a list of cool and useful places we can walk to:
(1) Zazzy'z coffeehouse and independent bookshop. OK I really am a snob because I just feel cool and intellectual and interesting when I'm there.
(2) The Washington County Public Library.
(3) The Trail Cafe', which is situated at the head of the
(4) Virginia Creeper Trail.
(5) At least three different churches, two of which we've been to, and the third of which(the closest, actually), we might attend this weekend: The Charles Wesley UMC, which has its roots in the African Methodist Episcopal tradition.
(6) Food Country, an average-sized, average-quality grocery store.
(7) The Whole Health Center, a tiny, very crunchy grocery store with local eggs, meat, and milk, and other fun things like homemade soaps and really interesting looking teas.
(8) The Barter Theatre-- Virginia's state theatre, in fact (whatever that means!)
The only problem is that the S-curve on Walden Road (which connects our little street to the main part of town) is without a sidewalk. Not such a big deal if one of us is feeling energetic enough to tote the kid in one of our various baby carriers, but a bit dicey with the stroller. Every once in a while I envision myself in a Stars-Hollow-town-meeting type situation, petitioning the town council for a sidewalk around that curve. I think if the circumstances were just so, I could get crazy into local politics. Especially if I found myself up against a Taylor Doose. That'd be awesome.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Four months!
Today we took Lea to her first well-baby checkup since we moved. Turns out that because it's a family practice (as opposed to a pediatrician's office), and they get very few babies, they don't stock the immunizations infants are supposed to get-- the biggest reason for a two-, four-, six-, or nine-month appointment in the first place. So, a second doctor's visit, or at least a trip to the health department, is in order.
But it would be an understatement to say the appointment was worthwhile. While we waited for the nurse, Lea entertained herself. And us. I guess we can wait on toys for a while and just get a big old roll of crinkly paper. Good times.
But it would be an understatement to say the appointment was worthwhile. While we waited for the nurse, Lea entertained herself. And us. I guess we can wait on toys for a while and just get a big old roll of crinkly paper. Good times.
Louisville things
Something you might not expect to find on Eric's couch: an assortment of cloth diapers, fresh from the dryer.
Something you very well might expect to find: Eric, Paige, and Brian being fiercely competitive over a confusing-- dare I say nonsensical-- "board" game (you get to make the board-- the island-- out of little tiles that you then turn over to find things like "Tiger Trap" and "Hatch" and "Food Stash-- Hurley gets minus one to his power here.")
Something cute: Eric and Lea having a heart to heart.
And watching basketball.
Something you very well might expect to find: Eric, Paige, and Brian being fiercely competitive over a confusing-- dare I say nonsensical-- "board" game (you get to make the board-- the island-- out of little tiles that you then turn over to find things like "Tiger Trap" and "Hatch" and "Food Stash-- Hurley gets minus one to his power here.")
Something cute: Eric and Lea having a heart to heart.
And watching basketball.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Smallness
When I was getting Lea dressed today, something a little sad happened: a very cute lavender onesie with a peanut printed on it, a staple of her wardrobe pretty much since birth, was undeniably too small. This came from a set (thanks, Jon Nicol!) marked "Size: Newborn." For some reason, this brand of clothes runs huge, because in other brands, she's been out of newborn sizes for quite a while. But we were hanging on. And now it is time to say goodbye, at long last, to the newborn stage.
Some things I never want to forget about Lea's life as a newborn...
... Brian changing virtually every diaper for the first week of her life. In particular, that very first sleep-deprived night when she was crying and crying and neither of us had yet thought to check her diaper-- we were so addled-- and when it finally occurred to him to check, her diaper was just a huge mess. And he said, mournfully, "Oh... I'm so sorry!! I'm such a bad dad!!" And I remember thinking to myself, "He's the greatest dad." It was a very special moment.
... Our first Thanksgiving. Lea was two days old. Brian was with her, and I decided to get on my feet and prepare the meal (read: reheat the food my parents had brought us). We thought we might actually get to eat at the table, and put Lea in her bouncy seat. She was fine with this for about 90 seconds. Just as we started to eat, she began to wail. We realized that she couldn't see us (that 12-inch limit to her eyesight and all), so we ended up sitting on the floor, using our chairs as individual tables, with our teeny little baby in between us.
... The Visitation Marathon that was Lea's fifth day of life. I believe over a dozen people came by that day. The highlight was, of course, Eric's comment that she was "radiating heat." In fact, what was radiating heat was Lea's pee. Which was soaking through and spreading across his lap.
... The intense emotions that came with breastfeeding. Every time she latched on during the earliest days, I remember feeling like she and I-- this tiny little creature and I, her mother-- could somehow know, together, all the secrets of the universe. This feeling would last for just a moment, but it was overwhelming. It was an ecstatic sadness. I can't think of another way to describe it. We had gotten a free issue of Parenting magazine, and one day I happened to glance at it during the first moments of a feeding. I was struck with the strangeness of such a magazine existing. All we need is this, right here, I thought. I cried a lot.
... An early outing to the mall. I had gone into a store to try some things on, leaving Brian with Lea in the stroller waiting out in the hallway. In the fitting room, I thought I heard a baby cry, but continued with my shopping. When I emerged, I found a beet-red, screaming, starving baby and a borderline weepy Brian. I came to find out that when she started to cry, a very well-meaning (and non-native-English-speaking) woman had approached Brian to insist that "Hungry. Bottle."--going so far as to pull an empty water bottle from the diaper bag and hand it to Brian. As far as I know, he didn't get so far as to pantomime breastfeeding.
... Our Christmas card photo shoot, most of which the star model slept through.
... Our first outing away from Lea, to the bank! and Starbucks!
... Those first smiles, usually accompanied by closed eyes. Then the first real social smiles around Christmastime, right along with the first non-crying vocalizing she did.
... Her magic pj's. These were a shower gift and one of the first things she wore frequently. They were green, and everytime she wore them she slept like a rock.
... Our first trip to the doctor. It was so immensely stressful, as she cried and cried while we waited, and we looked around at a room full of children and thought-- well at least I thought-- how sad it was to wake up from our dream-like first few days and realize that she wasn't the only baby in the universe.
... Lady Whippets games, and watching my mom show Lea off to her colleagues and some of the players and their moms.
... Going back to the Birth Center at 9 days old for a breastfeeding support group, and seeing my lovely and strong and wonderfully kind midwife, Gazelle, and exceptionally helpful nurse/lactation consultant Patti.
... The day Lea's tear ducts kicked in. Prior to that, crying=yelling. Then, when tears were first introduced into the equation... oh, my... the saddest thing you will ever see.
... My dad constantly remarking, with the certainty that he could probably prove it in court if he needed to, that "She's the best baby ever."
... The tiny little contented noises she makes as she's finishing a feeding, and I realize how safe and peaceful she must feel at my breast, her little body snuggled up to my squishy belly, letting me stroke her hair. In the beginning, when she was eating every 90 minutes or so, I would get impatient and pick her up as soon as she was done eating so we could go do other things or I could get a break. Now, I try to remind myself to relish that time and let her fade in and out of sleep and make those sweet little sighs. And I look at how much she has grown, and I marvel that every bit of nourishment she's every gotten has come from my body.
... The way she always sleeps with one hand next to her face.
... The insane amounts of toe jam. And finger jam. Where does this stuff come from?
... Biting her nails because she won't hold still to let me clip them.
... The Fray. "How to Save a Life" was always on the radio right before and after she was born. It will forever make me think of the days and weeks that my life and my world were changing so fundamentally. [OK, it also makes me think of that ad for the new season of Grey's Anatomy, the one where Izzie throws herself down on the floor in her prom dress. Also a very powerful memory.]
It is late, late, late at night and this didn't end up being the carefully revised, rearranged-for-style piece of poetry I wanted. There are also a million more things that I never want to forget... and right now, I feel like I already have to an extent.
OK, loved ones: tell me what you remember most about Lea's newborn days... or those of any baby in your life.
Some things I never want to forget about Lea's life as a newborn...
... Brian changing virtually every diaper for the first week of her life. In particular, that very first sleep-deprived night when she was crying and crying and neither of us had yet thought to check her diaper-- we were so addled-- and when it finally occurred to him to check, her diaper was just a huge mess. And he said, mournfully, "Oh... I'm so sorry!! I'm such a bad dad!!" And I remember thinking to myself, "He's the greatest dad." It was a very special moment.
... Our first Thanksgiving. Lea was two days old. Brian was with her, and I decided to get on my feet and prepare the meal (read: reheat the food my parents had brought us). We thought we might actually get to eat at the table, and put Lea in her bouncy seat. She was fine with this for about 90 seconds. Just as we started to eat, she began to wail. We realized that she couldn't see us (that 12-inch limit to her eyesight and all), so we ended up sitting on the floor, using our chairs as individual tables, with our teeny little baby in between us.
... The Visitation Marathon that was Lea's fifth day of life. I believe over a dozen people came by that day. The highlight was, of course, Eric's comment that she was "radiating heat." In fact, what was radiating heat was Lea's pee. Which was soaking through and spreading across his lap.
... The intense emotions that came with breastfeeding. Every time she latched on during the earliest days, I remember feeling like she and I-- this tiny little creature and I, her mother-- could somehow know, together, all the secrets of the universe. This feeling would last for just a moment, but it was overwhelming. It was an ecstatic sadness. I can't think of another way to describe it. We had gotten a free issue of Parenting magazine, and one day I happened to glance at it during the first moments of a feeding. I was struck with the strangeness of such a magazine existing. All we need is this, right here, I thought. I cried a lot.
... An early outing to the mall. I had gone into a store to try some things on, leaving Brian with Lea in the stroller waiting out in the hallway. In the fitting room, I thought I heard a baby cry, but continued with my shopping. When I emerged, I found a beet-red, screaming, starving baby and a borderline weepy Brian. I came to find out that when she started to cry, a very well-meaning (and non-native-English-speaking) woman had approached Brian to insist that "Hungry. Bottle."--going so far as to pull an empty water bottle from the diaper bag and hand it to Brian. As far as I know, he didn't get so far as to pantomime breastfeeding.
... Our Christmas card photo shoot, most of which the star model slept through.
... Our first outing away from Lea, to the bank! and Starbucks!
... Those first smiles, usually accompanied by closed eyes. Then the first real social smiles around Christmastime, right along with the first non-crying vocalizing she did.
... Her magic pj's. These were a shower gift and one of the first things she wore frequently. They were green, and everytime she wore them she slept like a rock.
... Our first trip to the doctor. It was so immensely stressful, as she cried and cried while we waited, and we looked around at a room full of children and thought-- well at least I thought-- how sad it was to wake up from our dream-like first few days and realize that she wasn't the only baby in the universe.
... Lady Whippets games, and watching my mom show Lea off to her colleagues and some of the players and their moms.
... Going back to the Birth Center at 9 days old for a breastfeeding support group, and seeing my lovely and strong and wonderfully kind midwife, Gazelle, and exceptionally helpful nurse/lactation consultant Patti.
... The day Lea's tear ducts kicked in. Prior to that, crying=yelling. Then, when tears were first introduced into the equation... oh, my... the saddest thing you will ever see.
... My dad constantly remarking, with the certainty that he could probably prove it in court if he needed to, that "She's the best baby ever."
... The tiny little contented noises she makes as she's finishing a feeding, and I realize how safe and peaceful she must feel at my breast, her little body snuggled up to my squishy belly, letting me stroke her hair. In the beginning, when she was eating every 90 minutes or so, I would get impatient and pick her up as soon as she was done eating so we could go do other things or I could get a break. Now, I try to remind myself to relish that time and let her fade in and out of sleep and make those sweet little sighs. And I look at how much she has grown, and I marvel that every bit of nourishment she's every gotten has come from my body.
... The way she always sleeps with one hand next to her face.
... The insane amounts of toe jam. And finger jam. Where does this stuff come from?
... Biting her nails because she won't hold still to let me clip them.
... The Fray. "How to Save a Life" was always on the radio right before and after she was born. It will forever make me think of the days and weeks that my life and my world were changing so fundamentally. [OK, it also makes me think of that ad for the new season of Grey's Anatomy, the one where Izzie throws herself down on the floor in her prom dress. Also a very powerful memory.]
It is late, late, late at night and this didn't end up being the carefully revised, rearranged-for-style piece of poetry I wanted. There are also a million more things that I never want to forget... and right now, I feel like I already have to an extent.
OK, loved ones: tell me what you remember most about Lea's newborn days... or those of any baby in your life.
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