next to godly living, the biggest priority and most valued achievements in my family life have been centered around education. i've said to friends before that religion and education (and religious education) are the family businesses. not that we have loads of family members infiltrating the public education system, or that we have a large percentage of hebrew scholars discussing open theology and what have you's at reunions (though that would all be very cool)... but that after or right under the central theme - god-focused life - we all have been taught (ha!) to revere learning in any state.
i told mom the other day that she has a didactic personality.
this is equal parts nature and nurture in my opinion. if you take my mother as an example, she gets her habit of constant instruction (in her wonderful, gentle nature) from her genes (thank you Loy and Donna) and from her parenting and life experiences (oh, thanks again Loy and Donna ;). and she's passed it down, with the equal participation of my father, one of the best teachers i know.
and i see it in myself - a self-described know it all with too much "trivia" in my head. i may not be constantly constructing a lesson with my daily dialogue like some of my esteemed relatives (uncle stan is one of the best in finding a way to sum up every convo - i love it), but my eyes are open and my ears pricked to any useful piece of daily info - you never know when someone might need to know about the history of crisco (did you know it was originally intended to be marketed as SOAP?) or how to get in touch with the local chamber of commerce to promote your charity of the month. i know the most random things, and they are the most remarkably useful things sometimes. i can tell you all about how to relocate to henderson tn by the way.
since "imparting wisdom" seems to be a biblical kind of thing to do, i suppose i shouldn't be surprised that it's ingrained in my life patterns. perhaps every preacher's kid and teacher's kid feels this way too.
lately, i've thought a lot about what we will teach ezri. i can see eric telling her all about world history, video games, how the us government works, and challenging her to think critically about everything she encounters, how to laugh at the slapstick of animaniacs and wit of cs lewis - he will have so many gifts to share with our little girl. the images i have in mind are of a relationship that is forged over time, like the ones i value between myself and my parents and so many of those educator-relatives (like my granma Wheat and her wonderful insights)
she'll probably get used to my political rants, my musings on being a woman in our culture and belief system, and learn to roll her eyes at my inconsistencies. i hope some of it will make sense. i hope that she learns to do what her grandma Donna always said to do when listening to someone else - to find the meat and spit out the bones.
education is part of a lifelong pursuit, a romance with knowledge and a thirst for growth. it is not a period in your life that revolves around class periods, dry tests, popularity contests and competition. it's a daily curiosity and a passion for what you have faith in. the best teachers in my life will always be mentoring me and urging me to push further... they remain with me. some of them are called instructors, by vocation, others are simply repositories of love and wisdom who have inspired me (ron and judy warpole, julie osburn, becky youngblood, chara watson... it's a long list)
and their characteristics that i will arm myself with as i forge this new relationship with the little ball of energy kicking and squirming under my ribs? patience. humility. love. honesty. fearlessness. hope. discernment. an open and listening heart.
so keep on teaching me, teachers.
9.24.2010
9.02.2010
unearthing an image
i know what kind of little girl i was. my mother probably wouldn't let me forget. i loved my dolls, i read, i played house and dress up incessantly. my brothers were forced to play church and house and who knows what else with me - they were pretty good sports. my imagination was endless, but like so many small children, it also centered on mimicry of daily life. so, i played the mommy. i loved on my babies and bossed my brothers like they were my babies too. fortunately, they survived just fine and now treat me with great indulgence and understanding. see, i trained them right.
there's no denying i was a "girly" (ah, stereotyping) girl. i had barbies (something i wish to avoid with ezri), i loved pink and to this day i love dressing up and dressing other people up. sure, i also played outside and loved to swim and even get messy at times, i was also pretty geeky and after a certain age went nowhere without a book. so, wanting to be a "mommy" is, or should be, a naturally deeply ingrained desire that i cannot fully articulate, right?
sure. yeah... i guess.
but there are times when i feel like i'm having to dig through layers and layers of memory, old games, toys, tea sets, books... like alice falling through the rabbit hole actually... in order to find the pictures i held so close to my heart, the ones of when i'd grow up to be a mother.
on days like the ones i've had this week, i have really searched for that image for comfort. when i feel like a ping pong ball being bounced between clinics and hospital and all the (great) staff and docs involved and i come home exhausted with less answers and more misery... i need to remember that the end result will be wonderful and deeply desired. it is.
i had a good cry on my husband's shoulder when he got home last night. i feel like everything i thought or expected of this pregnancy is screwy. my heart rate and such is off and wears me out something fierce and ridiculous, turns out it's something genetic that's been there all along... they sent me for another glucose test. i was fine with the screening, no big, but this test came at a bad time in the middle of a week where i've already had enough of medical stuff. it's just not how i expected to be pregnant.
and really, it's not all that bad. it's nothing on some experiences i know of, and nothing on the experiences of those who deal with life changing illness. it's just me, whining about a couple of simple tests. new to me, but not that bad. i know i'm in good hands and that something will be sorted... i just hate that there is something to be sorted...
when all i'd like to do is have the energy to tidy our room, and plan and dream and think of what it will be like to have this little one. and as i sit here and watch "rudy" with eric, i think about the possibility of a little boy someday too... wow. wow.
i have a lot of dear friends who made this passage what seems like ages ago... my life has been on its own timetable for a while... a little "behind the curve" from some of the girls i went to college with... and they are blossoming into these earth mothers, these incredible talents that are making art filled lives for themselves and their families.
it's an intimidating act to follow. and, i'll confess, there are just times when the idea of being absorbed by potty training, terrible twos, speech development, school choices... yeah. absorbed is the word.
i know what we want for our child... or at least, some of it... that image is getting clearer... but i don't want to lose who i am, or who we are, i want it to be the picture she holds close to her heart like we've held sweet pictures of our mothers and dads close to ours. those pictures are of whole and vibrant people that we wanted to be like. i am so glad we have them.
the reason i played "mommy" all those years ago, and loved on my sweet brothers and bossed them, and read books that filled my heart with dreams of women who had full lives, adventure and family - was i wanted to be like my mom. god provided me with the inspiration in my mother, my grandmothers, and countless others to do this.
and so, between naps and exhausting spells, my heart whispers, "i think i can... i know i can... i am... i will be little donna ezri's mother."
but just know, the mommy club is scary... anyone want to hold my hand?
there's no denying i was a "girly" (ah, stereotyping) girl. i had barbies (something i wish to avoid with ezri), i loved pink and to this day i love dressing up and dressing other people up. sure, i also played outside and loved to swim and even get messy at times, i was also pretty geeky and after a certain age went nowhere without a book. so, wanting to be a "mommy" is, or should be, a naturally deeply ingrained desire that i cannot fully articulate, right?
sure. yeah... i guess.
but there are times when i feel like i'm having to dig through layers and layers of memory, old games, toys, tea sets, books... like alice falling through the rabbit hole actually... in order to find the pictures i held so close to my heart, the ones of when i'd grow up to be a mother.
on days like the ones i've had this week, i have really searched for that image for comfort. when i feel like a ping pong ball being bounced between clinics and hospital and all the (great) staff and docs involved and i come home exhausted with less answers and more misery... i need to remember that the end result will be wonderful and deeply desired. it is.
i had a good cry on my husband's shoulder when he got home last night. i feel like everything i thought or expected of this pregnancy is screwy. my heart rate and such is off and wears me out something fierce and ridiculous, turns out it's something genetic that's been there all along... they sent me for another glucose test. i was fine with the screening, no big, but this test came at a bad time in the middle of a week where i've already had enough of medical stuff. it's just not how i expected to be pregnant.
and really, it's not all that bad. it's nothing on some experiences i know of, and nothing on the experiences of those who deal with life changing illness. it's just me, whining about a couple of simple tests. new to me, but not that bad. i know i'm in good hands and that something will be sorted... i just hate that there is something to be sorted...
when all i'd like to do is have the energy to tidy our room, and plan and dream and think of what it will be like to have this little one. and as i sit here and watch "rudy" with eric, i think about the possibility of a little boy someday too... wow. wow.
i have a lot of dear friends who made this passage what seems like ages ago... my life has been on its own timetable for a while... a little "behind the curve" from some of the girls i went to college with... and they are blossoming into these earth mothers, these incredible talents that are making art filled lives for themselves and their families.
it's an intimidating act to follow. and, i'll confess, there are just times when the idea of being absorbed by potty training, terrible twos, speech development, school choices... yeah. absorbed is the word.
i know what we want for our child... or at least, some of it... that image is getting clearer... but i don't want to lose who i am, or who we are, i want it to be the picture she holds close to her heart like we've held sweet pictures of our mothers and dads close to ours. those pictures are of whole and vibrant people that we wanted to be like. i am so glad we have them.
the reason i played "mommy" all those years ago, and loved on my sweet brothers and bossed them, and read books that filled my heart with dreams of women who had full lives, adventure and family - was i wanted to be like my mom. god provided me with the inspiration in my mother, my grandmothers, and countless others to do this.
and so, between naps and exhausting spells, my heart whispers, "i think i can... i know i can... i am... i will be little donna ezri's mother."
but just know, the mommy club is scary... anyone want to hold my hand?
8.22.2010
4:46 am
and i'm up. have been since 4 am. there's coffee in the press, and i've finished a bowl of cereal - might be time for another... i just gave in this morning. the dreams were no good, and my heart was racing because of my paranoid brain.
i am terrified of not feeling ezri move.
a month ago or so, at the check up before last with the OB, one of the sheets handed to me by the nurse was entitled "kick counts". oh, that is too cute - soon i'll be feeling her move more and more, and i can count the kicks... that's great, right?
wrong.
as my dad observed the other day to my mother when he saw this sheet, "oh great, another thing to make stefanie paranoid."
now, i love the clinic i'm going to and the two OB doctors who are overseeing me and my pregnancy. they are attentive, straightforward and generally great. the one doc took care of me during our miscarriage last year and i could not have asked for better treatment. and they're so good at mapping out what's ahead... yeah, including letting you know how much your baby should be kicking after 26 weeks' development.
10 times in an hour... if you haven't felt her move that much in an hour, they give you a formula for how long you should wait before calling the doc.
so, every time she doesn't move for a while, or really - when i don't FEEL her for a while (she may be moving, and i'm too busy taking orders, doing dishes, baking or serving coffee) - i start to quietly freak out.
it doesn't help that i have that repository of horror stories to fall back on. thanks moms. not that some of it could be helped - life happens around you, and you hear things, and you should so that you can grieve with the tellers - but, this brain of mine conjures far too often. i think it's worse with age, really i do.
so when my heart starts pounding through my skin whilst i fight off a dream about emma thompson having twin nieces in a bbc crime show, and even in my dream i have this underlying track of, "is baby moving? please God, take care of her... reassure me..." yeah. it's time to wake up, tell myself to calm down and breathe, and take care of the gnawing pregnancy hunger... and then she squirms, and punches, and i allow myself to calm down a little.
and i know that the rest of my life will be like this. holding my breath every time the bad stuff passes us by, praying that my little girl will be spared whatever evil i see, and knowing that eventually she will let us know, "i'm okay, i've got this."
because, she's our baby, and that's what she'll do.
and maybe now i'll be able to dream about that instead.
i am terrified of not feeling ezri move.
a month ago or so, at the check up before last with the OB, one of the sheets handed to me by the nurse was entitled "kick counts". oh, that is too cute - soon i'll be feeling her move more and more, and i can count the kicks... that's great, right?
wrong.
as my dad observed the other day to my mother when he saw this sheet, "oh great, another thing to make stefanie paranoid."
now, i love the clinic i'm going to and the two OB doctors who are overseeing me and my pregnancy. they are attentive, straightforward and generally great. the one doc took care of me during our miscarriage last year and i could not have asked for better treatment. and they're so good at mapping out what's ahead... yeah, including letting you know how much your baby should be kicking after 26 weeks' development.
10 times in an hour... if you haven't felt her move that much in an hour, they give you a formula for how long you should wait before calling the doc.
so, every time she doesn't move for a while, or really - when i don't FEEL her for a while (she may be moving, and i'm too busy taking orders, doing dishes, baking or serving coffee) - i start to quietly freak out.
it doesn't help that i have that repository of horror stories to fall back on. thanks moms. not that some of it could be helped - life happens around you, and you hear things, and you should so that you can grieve with the tellers - but, this brain of mine conjures far too often. i think it's worse with age, really i do.
so when my heart starts pounding through my skin whilst i fight off a dream about emma thompson having twin nieces in a bbc crime show, and even in my dream i have this underlying track of, "is baby moving? please God, take care of her... reassure me..." yeah. it's time to wake up, tell myself to calm down and breathe, and take care of the gnawing pregnancy hunger... and then she squirms, and punches, and i allow myself to calm down a little.
and i know that the rest of my life will be like this. holding my breath every time the bad stuff passes us by, praying that my little girl will be spared whatever evil i see, and knowing that eventually she will let us know, "i'm okay, i've got this."
because, she's our baby, and that's what she'll do.
and maybe now i'll be able to dream about that instead.
7.30.2010
traction
it's been a while - like a few weeks - since i've had this experience, it used to happen almost every morning. getting in the shower, or preparing for work in the morning, the wave of regret and guilt hits me and the thought: why didn't i just go to memphis, or anywhere else?
two years ago, i graduated with a BA in theatre performance after battling a lot of life's twists and turns (dropping out, bad grades, the divorce...) and to top it off, went straight to a genuine job at a theatre company in cincinnati. so many good things were flooding over me. my parents helped me move, i had a boyfriend - the best friend i never anticipated - and i was going to live downtown and walk to the theatre every day. i was going to make connections and charm people and surprise them with my management and creative abilities.
none of it, none of the big parts, were what i expected.
and on quiet or dark mornings, i still wake up and blame myself for not being better. why couldn't i do what i've seen a zillion other creative, talented theatre types do and just throw myself into things there? why could i not connect? i know there are a zillion reasons why. i've gone through them all.
i suppose that this is my one regret over the last couple of years. self-derailment.
one of my favorite people, someone who gave me beyond excellent references when i was hunting for theatre work, asked me what happened there the other day. i was more than glad he asked, it gave me a chance to think about it. it's still hard to sum up.
it didn't work out. i got distracted. it wasn't what i expected. i wasn't what they expected. it was a time when i was sorting out some things spiritually and mentally. it was a time when i was falling in love and far from the man i wanted to marry.
so many things were healing in my heart that i needed fixed. so many things were happening in my head that just needed to happen. all the dark and brooding thoughts from many years of dissapointment were shrinking away... i had gotten my degree, i'd proved to myself that i could do something i'd always wanted. i'd even won the respect of mentors that i loved. i'd been part of a church that felt like home. i saw myself as an intelligent, well rounded and creative woman who could offer a small amount of hard earned wisdom.
i wonder if any job i'd taken would have stuck at that time.
i still had some wilderness to climb through before i could see my newer self. i couldn't get traction in cincinnati, maybe it was because i was simply meant to keep walking through. it meant i lost something i'd wanted for a long time, but i also gained things that will be with me a lifetime. that, i don't regret.
life has been weird, good, rewarding, hard and unexpected since then. i am married to the best person i know. he puts up with my strange ways, even enjoys them. i am having a baby. wow. i've worked a year in a school system that has shown me that i can teach and enjoy it. the community in winfield is a good one, and i am thankful God led us to stay here and help minister and work in the church here for a while. i am beyond proud of my husband's academic achievements, and how he has grown spiritually and in his ability to lead and teach.
it's a good life. sometimes i still feel like i'm simply in another transition, and i am, but it is one that i trust and do not fear. i have chosen it. i still ache to do something creative. i still miss working on shows, and being at the center of it. i will be there again. i have to be.
someday, i will direct the plays i have listed in the back of my journal since i was a junior in college. someday i will find the right place, and the right way to do theatre again. it may be with a sleeping baby wrapped in a sling on my hip, or with my husband watching little ezri while i take notes and write down blocking... but i can do it, and want to, in the right time.
when i get some traction. somewhere. i know how to look to the horizon and keep my feet on the ground.
two years ago, i graduated with a BA in theatre performance after battling a lot of life's twists and turns (dropping out, bad grades, the divorce...) and to top it off, went straight to a genuine job at a theatre company in cincinnati. so many good things were flooding over me. my parents helped me move, i had a boyfriend - the best friend i never anticipated - and i was going to live downtown and walk to the theatre every day. i was going to make connections and charm people and surprise them with my management and creative abilities.
none of it, none of the big parts, were what i expected.
and on quiet or dark mornings, i still wake up and blame myself for not being better. why couldn't i do what i've seen a zillion other creative, talented theatre types do and just throw myself into things there? why could i not connect? i know there are a zillion reasons why. i've gone through them all.
i suppose that this is my one regret over the last couple of years. self-derailment.
one of my favorite people, someone who gave me beyond excellent references when i was hunting for theatre work, asked me what happened there the other day. i was more than glad he asked, it gave me a chance to think about it. it's still hard to sum up.
it didn't work out. i got distracted. it wasn't what i expected. i wasn't what they expected. it was a time when i was sorting out some things spiritually and mentally. it was a time when i was falling in love and far from the man i wanted to marry.
so many things were healing in my heart that i needed fixed. so many things were happening in my head that just needed to happen. all the dark and brooding thoughts from many years of dissapointment were shrinking away... i had gotten my degree, i'd proved to myself that i could do something i'd always wanted. i'd even won the respect of mentors that i loved. i'd been part of a church that felt like home. i saw myself as an intelligent, well rounded and creative woman who could offer a small amount of hard earned wisdom.
i wonder if any job i'd taken would have stuck at that time.
i still had some wilderness to climb through before i could see my newer self. i couldn't get traction in cincinnati, maybe it was because i was simply meant to keep walking through. it meant i lost something i'd wanted for a long time, but i also gained things that will be with me a lifetime. that, i don't regret.
life has been weird, good, rewarding, hard and unexpected since then. i am married to the best person i know. he puts up with my strange ways, even enjoys them. i am having a baby. wow. i've worked a year in a school system that has shown me that i can teach and enjoy it. the community in winfield is a good one, and i am thankful God led us to stay here and help minister and work in the church here for a while. i am beyond proud of my husband's academic achievements, and how he has grown spiritually and in his ability to lead and teach.
it's a good life. sometimes i still feel like i'm simply in another transition, and i am, but it is one that i trust and do not fear. i have chosen it. i still ache to do something creative. i still miss working on shows, and being at the center of it. i will be there again. i have to be.
someday, i will direct the plays i have listed in the back of my journal since i was a junior in college. someday i will find the right place, and the right way to do theatre again. it may be with a sleeping baby wrapped in a sling on my hip, or with my husband watching little ezri while i take notes and write down blocking... but i can do it, and want to, in the right time.
when i get some traction. somewhere. i know how to look to the horizon and keep my feet on the ground.
7.28.2010
why my husband is better than me
my husband just came in the door, sweaty and grass covered from mowing our lawn. it's 8 pm on a wednesday night. we came home and he said he needed to "cool down" by mowing. yeah.
so, it is not a secret that i have large opinions, larger emotions and lots of energy behind each conviction i express. i like this about me, most of the time. i have also realized in the past couple of years that these things can be dangerous. being invested in things means getting upset when things take a bad turn. it means getting angry and defensive for "your side", and wanting to give people a piece of your mind.
sometimes, that is good. IF you can get it out clearly, concisely and without being overwhelmed by the urge to punch through a wall instead.
my husband stood by my side about two months ago as i faced a fear of mine and talked to someone i would rather have hit at the time. i knew that i needed to listen to this person and the concerns he had. i knew that it would be wrong of me not to, and that if i simply went on angry and defensive without listening to him and expressing my concerns and reaction to his face that i would implode. it was the jesus-y thing to do. eric was wonderful. he quietly stood through my encounter with this person and reinforced the love i wanted to express over the hurt i felt at some of the things that person said and implied.
tonight, he followed a kid (i say kid because he chose to act like one, he's old enough to know better) out of the church building and called him out on something very uncool that he did. he actually stood there and made this person listen to some straight things. this is a kid who thinks he is always right and always wronged. this is a kid who hasn't had the best examples at times and doesn't know how to react when someone confronts him in love over anything he might have done wrong.
i don't know how he did it.
i've wanted to wring necks, and shout at the top of my lungs, and seriously beat up on some people lately. people that i know i need to love, and really really do. that's why it hurts so much when they do and say things that hurt other people i love. i know this sounds vague. chalk it up to a preacher's kid rant if you will. i am intensely proud of my parents ministry and their devotion to a calling that is not easy. they are loved and respected by so many wonderful people. it's amazing how the power of one or two negative voices can knock you down and cut you through. i don't know why it works that way.
and tonight, if i'd been eric, i don't think i would have had the presence of mind, patience and hope in humanity that he had to go out and talk to a kid that obviously has been hurting for a long time. i think all i would have done is yell.
so when i don't get all the negativity and really really don't understand these people i'm called to love, my sweet sweet husband reminds me how it's done.
so, it is not a secret that i have large opinions, larger emotions and lots of energy behind each conviction i express. i like this about me, most of the time. i have also realized in the past couple of years that these things can be dangerous. being invested in things means getting upset when things take a bad turn. it means getting angry and defensive for "your side", and wanting to give people a piece of your mind.
sometimes, that is good. IF you can get it out clearly, concisely and without being overwhelmed by the urge to punch through a wall instead.
my husband stood by my side about two months ago as i faced a fear of mine and talked to someone i would rather have hit at the time. i knew that i needed to listen to this person and the concerns he had. i knew that it would be wrong of me not to, and that if i simply went on angry and defensive without listening to him and expressing my concerns and reaction to his face that i would implode. it was the jesus-y thing to do. eric was wonderful. he quietly stood through my encounter with this person and reinforced the love i wanted to express over the hurt i felt at some of the things that person said and implied.
tonight, he followed a kid (i say kid because he chose to act like one, he's old enough to know better) out of the church building and called him out on something very uncool that he did. he actually stood there and made this person listen to some straight things. this is a kid who thinks he is always right and always wronged. this is a kid who hasn't had the best examples at times and doesn't know how to react when someone confronts him in love over anything he might have done wrong.
i don't know how he did it.
i've wanted to wring necks, and shout at the top of my lungs, and seriously beat up on some people lately. people that i know i need to love, and really really do. that's why it hurts so much when they do and say things that hurt other people i love. i know this sounds vague. chalk it up to a preacher's kid rant if you will. i am intensely proud of my parents ministry and their devotion to a calling that is not easy. they are loved and respected by so many wonderful people. it's amazing how the power of one or two negative voices can knock you down and cut you through. i don't know why it works that way.
and tonight, if i'd been eric, i don't think i would have had the presence of mind, patience and hope in humanity that he had to go out and talk to a kid that obviously has been hurting for a long time. i think all i would have done is yell.
so when i don't get all the negativity and really really don't understand these people i'm called to love, my sweet sweet husband reminds me how it's done.
7.22.2010
to my daughter, three months before her birth
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Donna Ezri,
As soon as we knew that I was pregnant with you, your father and I began a list of names. Your daddy made lists of beautiful names, writing them in Elvish and debating their pronunciation with me. We dreamed of you, and with each good doctorʼs visit and each day I noticed my body changing to take care of you we began to imagine what kind of person you would be. There is no one I have anticipated knowing with greater excitement than you. We already know that you are beautiful and perfect and our gift from God. We are praying every day that we will grow to be the parents you need.
We wanted to give you names that are strong and beautiful. Names that will stay with you all your life that you will be proud of.
You are named Donna for my sweet Grandma Donna, your Grandma Nancyʼs mother. She died eight years ago this summer and we all miss her and long for the time when we will know her again in heaven. She was a wise and lovely woman who loved her family and showed kindness to everyone. Her gentleness and intelligence, laughter and creativity, patience, and devotion to the Creator are things that I know she shared with all of us. You will have these things too. “Donna” means “woman”, just like the name Eve does. It reminds me of the beauty and power God put into each of us, it makes me think of Mary the mother of Jesus who allowed God to shape her life in ways she could never have anticipated. Your life will be incredible if you let Him shape it, just like your great-grandmother did.
You are named Ezri. It is based on the Hebrew name “Ezra” and the word “ebenezer”, they mean “helper” and “stone of help”. Your father and I wanted you to have this name because it is beautiful and because we know how God has been our helper and how he has reminded us of how we need him. He will guide and love you always. Of course, your uncles will tell you that we named you for a character on Star Trek: DS9. It didnʼt hurt that we loved the sound of the name from a show that we both enjoy. The character is one you can be proud of sharing a name with. It is unique and you can make it what you want it to be.
We already love you so much. Seeing your fuzzy outline on the ultrasound monitor made our hearts leap with joy. Your little spine and ribs were like strings of pearls, and the beating of your heart is the best sound I have ever heard. We canʼt believe that you are ours and feel so blessed that God has allowed us to have you.
Love,
Your Mommy and Daddy
Donna Ezri,
As soon as we knew that I was pregnant with you, your father and I began a list of names. Your daddy made lists of beautiful names, writing them in Elvish and debating their pronunciation with me. We dreamed of you, and with each good doctorʼs visit and each day I noticed my body changing to take care of you we began to imagine what kind of person you would be. There is no one I have anticipated knowing with greater excitement than you. We already know that you are beautiful and perfect and our gift from God. We are praying every day that we will grow to be the parents you need.
We wanted to give you names that are strong and beautiful. Names that will stay with you all your life that you will be proud of.
You are named Donna for my sweet Grandma Donna, your Grandma Nancyʼs mother. She died eight years ago this summer and we all miss her and long for the time when we will know her again in heaven. She was a wise and lovely woman who loved her family and showed kindness to everyone. Her gentleness and intelligence, laughter and creativity, patience, and devotion to the Creator are things that I know she shared with all of us. You will have these things too. “Donna” means “woman”, just like the name Eve does. It reminds me of the beauty and power God put into each of us, it makes me think of Mary the mother of Jesus who allowed God to shape her life in ways she could never have anticipated. Your life will be incredible if you let Him shape it, just like your great-grandmother did.
You are named Ezri. It is based on the Hebrew name “Ezra” and the word “ebenezer”, they mean “helper” and “stone of help”. Your father and I wanted you to have this name because it is beautiful and because we know how God has been our helper and how he has reminded us of how we need him. He will guide and love you always. Of course, your uncles will tell you that we named you for a character on Star Trek: DS9. It didnʼt hurt that we loved the sound of the name from a show that we both enjoy. The character is one you can be proud of sharing a name with. It is unique and you can make it what you want it to be.
We already love you so much. Seeing your fuzzy outline on the ultrasound monitor made our hearts leap with joy. Your little spine and ribs were like strings of pearls, and the beating of your heart is the best sound I have ever heard. We canʼt believe that you are ours and feel so blessed that God has allowed us to have you.
Love,
Your Mommy and Daddy
7.15.2010
observations and ruminations of a first time mother
take it as a sign that i truly am hormonal and pregnant - but i must rant, yet again.
okay, maybe it's not always a rant, but i must at the very least muse.
observations since i have made my pregnancy known to all
(all being facebook and the big world beyond, of course)
- everyone on fb is pregnant or is enamored of their newborn
- the profile pic of your baby (once sex is determined, of course) must go up, it is de rigeuer. of course, this may mean an extra five seconds of "who is that commenting on my wall?" while squinting at an adorable fuzzy baby outline too.
- people, not just older or very younger who might be excused due to unfamiliarity with current medical technology, do not understand that it takes a while until the ultrasound tech can make that educated guess as to whether you're having a boy or a girl... like, at least 20 weeks for most people.
- oh, and people want to know and don't understand you not wanting to know the potential sex of your child.
- question i am sick of: are you excited about the baby?
um - how do you answer this? yes, i am excited about the drastic life changing event and how it is irreversible and permanent and completely unfamiliar to me... i am excited about doing something that is just about completely new in every way to me... yep.
or, uh - duh, i'm excited. we live in a culture where, thanks to the availability of contraception etc., having a baby can be a choice - we decided to get married and all that that entails, including procreation, so - we're excited.
but i've never been the bouncy giddy let's ooh and aah and spontaneously break into baby talk type. why should that completely change now? note, please, that i left room for change... i'm not foolish enough to deny the effects of the hormones racing through my body of late, or the intensely satisfying dreams i've had recently where i glimpse my little one's face - a composite of all the babies i've ever held and loved.
back to observations
- horror stories! good grief people! i don't know why finding out that i am due in november inspires some people to tell all their worst experiences or stories relating to infertility, miscarriage, stillbirths, birth complications, childhood diseases and conditions... and the list goes on! why???
i am, of course, a sympathetic listener and want people to feel comfortable relating to me. i know that the relation of these stories are strangely well-meant, and a part of the initiation rituals of motherhood. i can see that. but please, can you tell me happy or funny stories instead? i can handle gross or even long winded boring stories about children and grandchildren i will never know but an endless saga about a friend's pregnancy challenges only adds to this paranoid's list of anxieties.
- under the same category i suppose:
reasons why person a, b or c ended up having a c-section, saying yes to drugs, choosing to bottle-feed, or anything else that is the opposite of what i _hope_ (note-hope! i am a realist) to do.
we all have ideals of what the beginning of motherhood/parenthood will be like. i know that these things do not always come to fruition in the manner one expects. two things:
1. don't assume that i am naive enough to be inflexible when it comes to my own ideals
2. realize that i have many, many positive examples and mentors available when it comes to practicing what i wish to do in my own pregnancy, birth experience, and early baby nurturing time.
i value good advice and hard won experience. i don't quite understand the need to excuse ones' self from any choices made in a birth story.
well, enough observation for now i suppose. thank you for the rambling rant...
and now i will tell you happy things about my own pregnancy. things i wish to remember.
- the baby moves a lot. this is the best reassurance in the world to me after the loss of our first pregnancy. i am truly astonished each time i feel a flutter or nudge.
- i don't look that pregnant yet... in fact i've lost weight since the pregnancy began. this amuses me and the doctors are pleased at how healthy we both are so far.
- but i did buy maternity clothes. the capris with the ever so attractive "panel" are soooo comfy. and i've stretched enough to need them.
- i love every baby and small person i see. no, see, i'm not normally that way. i am the type that is guilty of remarking that certain acquaintances "spawned", or are "breeding" when they announce a pregnancy... yeah. and i like little people a lot, but i don't necessarily swoon over each one like many sweet friends of mine do.
- i am nostalgic, sentimental, teary, moody and generally intense. to which you say, wasn't she already?
best of all-
this experience is making me a more honest and determined human being. it is challenging me to straighten my priorities and know myself more than i have before. the idea of imprinting myself on a new little person is incredible and humbling. without cliche, i want to do my best and give the best to this little one.
okay, maybe it's not always a rant, but i must at the very least muse.
observations since i have made my pregnancy known to all
(all being facebook and the big world beyond, of course)
- everyone on fb is pregnant or is enamored of their newborn
- the profile pic of your baby (once sex is determined, of course) must go up, it is de rigeuer. of course, this may mean an extra five seconds of "who is that commenting on my wall?" while squinting at an adorable fuzzy baby outline too.
- people, not just older or very younger who might be excused due to unfamiliarity with current medical technology, do not understand that it takes a while until the ultrasound tech can make that educated guess as to whether you're having a boy or a girl... like, at least 20 weeks for most people.
- oh, and people want to know and don't understand you not wanting to know the potential sex of your child.
- question i am sick of: are you excited about the baby?
um - how do you answer this? yes, i am excited about the drastic life changing event and how it is irreversible and permanent and completely unfamiliar to me... i am excited about doing something that is just about completely new in every way to me... yep.
or, uh - duh, i'm excited. we live in a culture where, thanks to the availability of contraception etc., having a baby can be a choice - we decided to get married and all that that entails, including procreation, so - we're excited.
but i've never been the bouncy giddy let's ooh and aah and spontaneously break into baby talk type. why should that completely change now? note, please, that i left room for change... i'm not foolish enough to deny the effects of the hormones racing through my body of late, or the intensely satisfying dreams i've had recently where i glimpse my little one's face - a composite of all the babies i've ever held and loved.
back to observations
- horror stories! good grief people! i don't know why finding out that i am due in november inspires some people to tell all their worst experiences or stories relating to infertility, miscarriage, stillbirths, birth complications, childhood diseases and conditions... and the list goes on! why???
i am, of course, a sympathetic listener and want people to feel comfortable relating to me. i know that the relation of these stories are strangely well-meant, and a part of the initiation rituals of motherhood. i can see that. but please, can you tell me happy or funny stories instead? i can handle gross or even long winded boring stories about children and grandchildren i will never know but an endless saga about a friend's pregnancy challenges only adds to this paranoid's list of anxieties.
- under the same category i suppose:
reasons why person a, b or c ended up having a c-section, saying yes to drugs, choosing to bottle-feed, or anything else that is the opposite of what i _hope_ (note-hope! i am a realist) to do.
we all have ideals of what the beginning of motherhood/parenthood will be like. i know that these things do not always come to fruition in the manner one expects. two things:
1. don't assume that i am naive enough to be inflexible when it comes to my own ideals
2. realize that i have many, many positive examples and mentors available when it comes to practicing what i wish to do in my own pregnancy, birth experience, and early baby nurturing time.
i value good advice and hard won experience. i don't quite understand the need to excuse ones' self from any choices made in a birth story.
well, enough observation for now i suppose. thank you for the rambling rant...
and now i will tell you happy things about my own pregnancy. things i wish to remember.
- the baby moves a lot. this is the best reassurance in the world to me after the loss of our first pregnancy. i am truly astonished each time i feel a flutter or nudge.
- i don't look that pregnant yet... in fact i've lost weight since the pregnancy began. this amuses me and the doctors are pleased at how healthy we both are so far.
- but i did buy maternity clothes. the capris with the ever so attractive "panel" are soooo comfy. and i've stretched enough to need them.
- i love every baby and small person i see. no, see, i'm not normally that way. i am the type that is guilty of remarking that certain acquaintances "spawned", or are "breeding" when they announce a pregnancy... yeah. and i like little people a lot, but i don't necessarily swoon over each one like many sweet friends of mine do.
- i am nostalgic, sentimental, teary, moody and generally intense. to which you say, wasn't she already?
best of all-
this experience is making me a more honest and determined human being. it is challenging me to straighten my priorities and know myself more than i have before. the idea of imprinting myself on a new little person is incredible and humbling. without cliche, i want to do my best and give the best to this little one.
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