The Cat is Out of the Bag...

...and I'm not talking about that time Thor and Loki had it out over an empty sack of Meow Mix, either.

I mean to say that, after months of genuine indecisiveness, I finally turned in my resignation at work.  I'm officially a stay-at-home-mom.

I feel relieved to have finally made my choice, but I'm surprised that relief is pretty much all I feel.  I thought I'd feel elated and overjoyed and a big rush of warm fuzzies as I hugged and kissed my baby.  I thought I'd feel proud, having made the decision that my husband and I agreed was best for my family.

Instead, I sort of feel a little bit...empty.  Like I cut the cord in a huge area of my life and I'm in kind of a freefall right now.  And challenged, like I'm standing at the base of a wild, snowy mountain and I've committed myself to climbing it but I really haven't packed enough supplies and I've never climbed a mountain before and in fact, I didn't even watch any mountain-climbing videos on YouTube or anything.

After just a few weeks of staying home with the baby (several of those days with family or friends visiting), I can see that raising children is not a job for lightweights.  When Ross got home from work yesterday, I was exhausted.  Nope, I hadn't finished three loads of laundry, gone grocery shopping, and groomed the cats.  I had fed and changed the baby and thought about what I would made for dinner (eggs, fried taters and turkey bacon).  And that was enough.

I can see how motherhood, which is supposed to be about family and community, can be isolating instead.  I can see how a mom, even a mom who is a good person and full of lots of love, can get frustrated and resentful towards a new baby.  Suddenly, your freedom disappears overnight; you're often expected to make decisions about returning to work long before you're physically or emotionally ready; friends and family and total strangers and the creepy staring lady at Giant Eagle all want to see your baby NOW and get upset because they weren't the first on your list to be invited over;  your timetable now revolves around feeding a little guy who, in our case, is still figuring out how to eat, which frequently makes mealtimes stressful and unpredictable (the bonding quotient there is pretty much zero); you begin to dread evenings because you're either afraid you'll miss a feeding if the baby monitor doesn't pick up his cries, or you'll stay up all night because his "self-soothing" pug-like grunts just. Don't. Stop.

I thought it would be easy to quit my job.  Maybe it would have been, if I despised my job or even felt indifferent towards it.  But I actually liked it.  I liked my co-workers.  I liked what I did and I felt like I did it well.  It was also hard to beat a 6-minute commute (which passed by a Starbucks).  Plus, the information I gathered from working in a pediatric office has been invaluable during my pregnancy and now, with a preemie in the house.  I had an amazing, engaged, compassionate supervisor and I had a good time working with some really fun, lively girls - going from that to being home with three suspicious cats, an often unreadable baby, Klondike bars and Netflix is a huge change.

We haven't been to church in a while because, well, yeah, we have a newborn and we've been advised to keep him out of crowds for a while.  Although we've got offers to visit and help from some of the church gals, it's not the same as being in the Word and enjoying fellowship with our spiritual family.  I thought I'd automatically feel closer to God after my son's birth, because, after all, I recognize God as the Heavenly Father, and now I was a parent, too, but that didn't happen, either.

I guess it comes down to expectations.  The same unrealistic expectations that drive wedges between spouses in the first few years of marriage can overwhelm new parents.  I didn't exactly expect the kind of rosy-cheeked, wide-eyed newborn so frequently depicted in movies and on television...nor did I expect to snap back into my pre-pregnancy body in a few weeks...and I certainly didn't expect to get a full night's sleep any time soon after his birth. But maybe my problem was that I really couldn't prepare myself for a new baby - especially the way he ended up coming into the world.

So, that's what I'm going to focus on these next few weeks - making realistic expectations for myself and my baby.  Just getting by, one day at a time.  

The anxiety of making The Big Decision is over.  I have no obligations to anyone but my God and my family.  It's okay for me to breathe.  And fail, sometimes.  And try again.  And ask for help.  And not take everyone's advice, if I don't want to.

Because really...the 17-year-old cashier at McDonald's might not be the most reputable source of infant knowledge, knowwhatImsayin'?

Ketch-Up

My step-mom used to be the children's church teacher at Berean Fellowship, and she led the kids in a simple game they called Ketch-Up.  She took an empty Heinz ketchup bottle (we're Pittsburghers, so the kids literally rejected the Hunt's bottle I once tried to substitute) and passed it down the line of kids.  When a child had the bottle, he or she had a few minutes to share something - whether it was a worry about a test at school, an upcoming vacation, or a Christmas list.  The other kids were not permitted to talk when one of them had the bottle.  Not that that part of the plan always worked, mind you.

Well, I wanted my first blog after my unexpected hiatus to be deep, significant, and thoroughly thought-out.  But ain't nobody got time for dat, so here's my "ketch-up" version.  Don't interrupt.  Read on.

1. I got a new job.  I now work in a pediatricians' office.  I'm still adapting to working full-time after 6 months of unemployment (part of the reason I haven't written lately).  I generally like it quite a bit.  Sometimes my heart aches when newborns come in, but most of the time I enjoy what I do.

2. I'm back on the weight-loss train.  After stalling out after my mom's passing, I'm now exercising five times a week (35-45 minutes of brisk walking during my lunch hour, which for me equals around 2 miles).  When I told my family I was planning on signing up for the Great Race in September, they smiles politely and said nothing.  Which is the response I also got from my husband.  Completely understandable, given my history of (a) hating exercise; (b) having trouble completing tasks, and (c) hating exercise.  But I'm still going to try.  I am starting out with teensy-tiny baby steps so I don't get discouraged.  My blood pressure is going up again - inexplicably - and I know this will help.

3. Ross is still actively looking for a better job.  He had an interview with Duquesne, which was something that we hardly even imagined would happen.  He was one of only three people considered for the position, but he did not get an offer.  I had a harder time than him about it, and had several temper tantrums that were directed at God for being "unfair" and "tricking us".  Yes, even we "mature Christians" struggle to understand how and why God allows certain things to happen that don't seem to make any sense at all.  I've calmed down considerably, but we are still fighting discouragement about his career situation.

4.  We're going to Disney!  I'm not telling when, because then all my Facebook stalkers (pfft, yeah, 'cause there's hundreds of them) will loot my house while we're away...but we have plans, it's paid for, and I'm crazy excited for my first-ever trip to the Magical-est Place on Earth!

5. Loki now plays catch in addition to playing fetch.  If I bought into the theory of reincarnation, I'd say it was 100% evident that kitten was a Golden Retriever in a previous life.  WHOSE CAT DOES THAT?

6. I found a pair of red snakeskin-print stilettos at K-Mart for $3.99.

Now, here's where we take a more serious turn.  Another huge change that took place recently is that Ross and I made the difficult decision to step down as the youth leaders at Berean Fellowship and North Church.  It was a choice that was, unfortunately, a long time coming.  Around the time of our third miscarriage, we began to struggle a little with our obligations.  It became more of a chore than a joy.  Then I lost my job, and even though I had more time to work on youth-related events, it was something I was forcing myself to do.  Ross and I repeatedly heard ourselves saying "no, we have church on Saturday" when our friends or family wanted to make plans.  (Don't get me wrong, Pastors Mark and Steph are NOT slave-drivers!  We could have taken off days here and there when we needed them!  But, for our purposes, things were often last-minute and we couldn't really find a pinch-hitter two days before we were due to teach.  It wasn't fair to the people we'd be asking for help.)  We loved our church (and still do) but were lacking the fellowship of our circle of peers (many of whom we'd met at the now-defunct young adults' group The Bridge).  Ross's sister Lindsey was in town twice (we only see her a few times a year, at best) and both times we were unable to see her.  Then, his dad had a stroke right before Christmas, the healing from which has been complicated by his Parkinson's.  And then, in February, my mother died.  (It still sucks royally to even type those words.)  And I still wasn't finding work.  My unemployment was running out.  Things were really ugly.

Dealing with the pressures of so much loss in such a short period, we weren't treating the kids the way we wanted to - heck, we weren't treating ourselves the way we should have been!  Ross and I went back and forth debating, discussing, and even arguing about what was best for us, for the kids, and the church.  We were concerned that the kids would feel we had abandoned them.  We were concerned that we were giving up simply because the job was tough.  We were concerned that we were letting down our church - and God.  We were concerned that people would fear we were leaving the church (that fear WAS confirmed as several members of the congregation did approach us with concerned whispers, asking if we were heading elsewhere - at least they came to us instead of letting their imaginations run wild; we were grateful for that respect!).  We prayed about it and finally brought it up to Pastor Mark - but God had already given him a hint as to what was in our hearts.  We received nothing but encouragement and understanding from him, which confirmed that we had made the right choice for this season in our lives.  Our goal right now is to focus on our friends and families - to spend time with them.  To help Ross's dad with his antiques business.  To see our nieces' recitals.  To grill ridiculously delicious burgers on my aunt and uncle's patio.  To hop from estate sale to estate sale with Deana as she hustles for eBay treasures.  To see our friends' new babies.  To reconnect with the many relationships God has given us.

We love our church family dearly.  We love serving.  We love being trusted as leaders, even if we don't carry a title anymore.  We love our pastors, who never made us feel like failures - or even that we were giving up at all!  We love the kids we taught, and we're still a part of their lives.  We love talking with them and staying in touch - even if we're maybe not quite as cool as the incoming leaders, Tim and Victoria.  But we're grateful that God's voice is persistent, and he kept telling us what was most important in our lives right now.

We still want children.  Desperately.  We feel that God is using this season to draw us closer to him and the network of loving friends and family we have in order to make that dream a reality.  We have a "plan" in place, but experience has taught us that God loves wrecking our plans because we dream TOO SMALL.  His goals for us are so much bigger than we can wrap our minds around...and sometimes we have to take a step back and be willing to wait for his next step to be revealed.

That's where we are right now.  Waiting with a purpose.  

Yeah, that doesn't make it any easier.  But here we are.  Go ahead, God.  I'm watching for you.