Two Years of Missing My Dad, The Grandpa She Only Met In Utero

Abba. 2 years. At exactly 7 AM this morning we heard your granddaughter calling Abba incessantly. Even though I have been running away from the truth, I know that no matter how many times I would call for YOU, Abba, you will not answer me. Ever. (Maybe you can give me signs?) But Lulu's Abba (and Ima) came to her of course to start the day with our sunny Good Morning song. We were greeted by heart-melting smiles and cheers. I did soak up the moment, the love, our morning hugs and kisses and the sweet, palpable blessings in my life, but I can't help it, Abba. A part of my heart is gone without you, and there's nothing I can do about it. I have tried to deny, I have refused to accept, but this morning, after we lit your memorial candles, I sat at my laptop and looked at your pictures for the first time in 2 years. And for the first time, Abba, I put Lulu on my lap and taught her the word Sabba. Her only encounter with you were all the times you rubbed my belly on your hospital bed when I was 5 months pregnant, 2 weeks before you left us, and now, on my lap, she kept pointing at your pictures whispering Sabba. Her voice then turned into repeated exclamation-pointed Sabba accompanied by her  signature hand-waving and her warm Hiiii, while I was working hard at holding back my tears (which I have become an expert at). She said Bye to the picture and got off my lap, but a moment later she asked to get back to look at Sabba again. I guess I'm not the only one refusing to say goodbye. 

I'm well aware that looking at your pictures is a first healthy step, but it scares the hell out of me, just as I'm scared of Lulu starting to ask about Sabba, forcing me to pick at my scab.

 I have been suppressing those agonizing days in the hospital but the painful memories find a way to resurface. Remember how you helped us choose her name? I wanted to tell you that we chose the name you liked most. I wish I could know that you can see her from above. I am longing for unwavering evidence that you are watching over us.

One thing I do know, Abba, is that you blessed her when you were rubbing my belly, because how else would she become such a remarkably happy baby, despite her Ima's trauma of losing you while pregnant. She is our smiling, laughing, silly, funny, jolly, healing light. Thank you, Abba! And thank you for the years you have given me as my Abba. 

 Apparently I took a step forward in my grieving process today but I don't exactly know what it means. I only know that my heart cannot contain how much I miss you and everything about you and our special connection. I love you, Abba! 

Liberation Movement

You are talking to a mama who has just gotten her iPhone back after 8 days of a semi-forced break. Why semi? One day into it, my experience began to transition from stressed, anxious, frustrated, scared (that I had lost all of my un-backed-up data) and heavily guilt-ridden (for having disrespected phone by "accidentally" dropping it many times and showering it with water, coffee and melted ice cubes. I have a theory I had wanted it to go away, but that's for a therapy session) to liberated, more relaxed, present, in the moment, able to watch where I was walking and dabbled in more spontaneity. Generally my experience resembled walking around on a hot day wearing a dress and no underwear.

In the Moment. Just BE.

The experience morphed into an experiment. Maybe it was the new found clarity, but I found myself observing my feelings and behavior with a magnifying glass. A day or two into the experiment I unexpectedly lost the urgency to fix/replace it. How did that happen? Well, first step was the relief of finding out I hadn't lost my precious data. Next step entered as I stopped worrying that I would not be able to communicate with anyone, let alone make any plans (Surprise! It's possible!). Next was learning to not freak out about not being able to take nonstop pictures and videos of Lulu.

And then came the "I'm actually okay without a phone" phase. No celebratory dance, just feeling "okay" and surviving just fine.

On day 3 the "okay" turned into more palpable sensations. Being In the Moment became my reality most of the time in the last few days. Yes, I do normally strive to get there but who am I kidding? The notion of being "in-the-moment" has been morbidly warped ever since we've all become phone addicts, around the time smart phones came to be so irresistibly alluring, complex and friendly.
I'm thinking of the camera my phone has become since I turned into a mama. Almost every discovery and exciting moment is filmed. It's so quick and easy and tempting. How can you not reach for your phone when your baby has just given you the cutest giggle or dance or song or messy eating sequence? You are mindful that you are overdoing it and even promise to yourself to stop and just experience the moment sans visual documentation but...but...the phone is right there....and you only have to press a button...and you will make the whole family so happy when they get the email...and you can watch it again and again tonight when you are relaxing after a long day but somehow missing your baby. No, I'm not addicted at all...I can stop anytime...Really?!

Well, the idea is actually not to stop, it's just about moderation. But moderation is not so popular these days when it comes to our sacred phones. Goog asked me yesterday what we will do many years from now with all these photos and videos? How often are we realistically going to look at all of them? Do we really need that many? Food for thought.

It turned out that being phone-free forced such a delicious kind of in the moment on me that I almost got addicted to that as well (another topic for a therapy session, which reminds me that I haven't found "time" for therapy since I had a baby- wrong move!). I was able to just be, which includes really BE with Lulu when I was with her. I didn't have to reply to emails, texts, phone calls, Facebook messages, comments. I didn't have to Like any status, post anything, document anything (though I did miss taking notes), "check" anything, virtually search anything, read anything or have immediate responses to ANYTHING but what was happening right there in front of me. So simple. Naturally there was less stress and it made me miss the simplicity of life before our phones became really smart (and they just keep getting smarter!). I had actually resisted a smart phone for the longest time, now that I think of it. I remember I didn't want to be so available all the time. I liked that I was only immediately reachable via text and a phone call.

Simple times. Quiet times. A big part of me started not missing my phone and I was okay postponing my Apple appointment to replace it. When I finally got my new phone, I wasn't ecstatic and so I vowed to not have a phone at least one day a week. Too many realizations arrived when my phone was away for me to not make a change. One day. Maybe more than one. I will also continue my tradition of turning off my phone at least 2 hours before bedtime (it's gotten harder since new mama here more often than not falls asleep at 9:30 but the idea is to wind down phone-free every night).

New shiny phone. Back to one-hand-on-stroller-other-hand-on-phone (you know what I'm talking about!), back to reading all my Huffington Post on our walks (Did I tell you that I do my best reading while I'm walking?...), back to multiple daily impromptu photo shoots, back to holding the device more than I should (What a strange habit. Why do we do that?). But this time it is different because my relationship with my iPhone has evolved. We are probably still too attached but I now know how good it can feel to take a break.
And on that note, I'm taking a break.

ADDENDUM
Confession. This post has been sitting on my laptop a whole week, waiting to be released. Maybe I needed to test out my above vow...Bottom line: I am yet to take a full day break from my phone. My technology mindfulness level remains high but my phone and I have not taken the next, healthy step in our relationship. Case in point, we are starting this weekend. Free weekend day is a more realistic goal because Goog's phone is there if I really need it. Once we conquer weekend, we can climb higher.  I know we can. Clearly we are moving in the right direction. Faith.

I Finally Have a Babysitter But I'm Still Not Making Cents!!!

I have a confession to make. It has been very difficult for me to leave Lulu. And when I do leave for a few hours, she is with Goog or grandparents....but as I'm typing these words, my 15 month old is alone, for the first time, with a person who is not family. Yes, I took the plunge and hired a babysitter. Just a few hours a week at first, until I slowly step back into my career. I'm taking baby steps to return to acting, and I am not sure when I will be ready for full gear. It's so challenging to redefine myself as an actor who is now also a mother. I have changed and it's taking me a lot of energy and mental resources to surrender to the idea that I will never be the same...

I believe I have new layers and depths to offer as an actor and performer but I'm not willing to do anything to get an acting job. I'm not even willing to take just any role. Nudity used to be the only red line, but now I'm not willing to take on anything that will make me miss Lulu too much...

Selfies are just another
form of digression, mama. Just saying.

Digression alert. All I meant to say was that right now is my first time and surprisingly I'm doing very well and Lulu is doing well and it's only a couple of hours. Phew. The time has come. It was the right thing to do, the healthy thing to do, even though I have been fighting it for a while. The idea of paying someone to spend time with Lulu while I'm not making my own money (yet) took  my mommy guilt to new extreme highs. I have been trying to convince myself that I didn't really need a break ("But I go to the gym! That's my break!") and every time that I did ask for a break, I found a way to sabotage it. But who am I kidding? What am I trying to prove? I need to accept where I am and recognize that there's nothing wrong with it.
I never wanted to predefine how long I would be a Stay-at-Home-Mom, just like I never wanted to predefine how long I would nurse. Or define myself as a parent. I wanted everything to feel organic to our specific journey. And organic it felt. I learnt on the way that we were practicing something close to attachment parenting without knowing anything about it. To this day I haven't read about attachment parenting and I don't feel the need to read parenting books. I just follow my instincts and intuition and it has been working well. We do what makes sense for us, and following what books (who don't know us) say we should do doesn't really make so much sense to us... Although...I obviously can't always trust myself (not surprising, I know), so once in a while I take a break to question, doubt and bash the hell out of my parenting, but I hear that's perfectly "normal"...

I digress again (another new characteristic I have acquired since becoming a mom. Comes with a plethora of other brain dysfunctions). On the nursing front, we are continuing strong and proud, and I think we will wean when Lulu is ready to wean (once again, I never imagined I would find myself so content with extended breastfeeding and even more so- in disagreement with the term- extended breastfeeding). However, the Stay-at-Home-Mom thing...well...that one is more complex. I will not say that "just a mom" is not enough, because, excuse the cliche, it is the most important thing I will ever do. And hardest. And rewarding. And amazing. But (no but) at this point in time, I just need to expand and add more to my world. I have arrived at the place where I acutely need more. It's time to own it. Naturally, the "more" would be my previous-to-Motherhood occupations, right?  Well, as I revisit this old world of mine I am faced, as mentioned above, with some serious resistance. Why is that, I ask myself. I-ask-myself MY ASS!! I ask myself sounds so polite, collected, calm and wise so let's just be honest. No composed energy here. I'm freaking out! I'm screaming-silently, of course- in front of the mirror, staring at my face in hopes to unearth the old me. Nope. I can't find. I can't connect. Shit, it's been three hours on the clock and babysitting session is  almost over and I haven't completed my reconnection process! Time is money, mama! Reconnect already, damn it! Figure yourself out! You have an hour left! What's your problem? You are an artist! You have written and performed a one-woman-show. With belly dance! With multimedia! Your brain did that! Your body! You talent! He-llo! Where ARE you?!

Blame the coffee refill that sent me back to my default button (Facebook, you know it) and now I'm left with 25 minutes to figure this career thing out. Nope. it's not happening today. I should know better (How to Not Force the Force).

Revolution! Walking around aimlessly

Here's a revolutionary idea. Why not just stare into the horizon. Not MY horizon! That's just more stress. THE horizon. Empty my mental space until there's pure, uninterrupted silence. Find the closest thing to neutral, if you may (strong cup of coffee, I got fancy for a second). I may need a few more babysitter visits (shut up, guilt!). That's okay! You want organic? THAT'S organic. Discover and rediscover my passions. I'm going to sit down with myself, or walk around aimlessly, or ride the subway, or stroll in supermarkets by myself (AKA my meditation sessions), until I reach a respectable, substantial clear space. I'm terribly scared of that space, but I will find a way to befriend it. I can fill it with anything I want, under one condition: Authenticity to my present (pun intended). Actually, two conditions: no rushing. I recognize that redefining myself to myself will require some patience and many deep breaths.

Solitary ice cream:
The road to self discovery?

Time to go back. I'm actually sensing a spark of excitement about discovering myself. Should help me with my guilt trip home.

A Real Fakation

I have the perfect idea for you IF you refuse to leave your baby, but still long to go away for a couples vacation and:
1) There's a hotel walking distance from home.
2) There are family members who are able and willing to babysit overnight.

I give you......

FAKATION 
(Staycation's Resourceful & Happier Cousin)!!!

It's so easy to forget to nurture the original family unit 
once you have babies. Goog and I had promised ourselves and each other that once we started creating people, we would welcome them into our world and proudly introduce them to our core unit rather than completely transform our relationship into one title: Parents. It takes work, especially during the early, dark, sleep-deprived months of parenthood, but it coincides with the way we want to design our life. Phew.
Enter our fakation. Last weekend we went on the most
romantic, relaxing and rejuvenating fakation. Loved it! Will repeat. Aiming for monthly. It worked for us and I know it can work for other couples as long as you fill it with your own desirable version. Shall I add that, granted you fit the 
above description, it's the most affordable and easiest-to-pull-off romantic getaway you can muster?

Saturday afternoon, we packed very light (refreshing for two people who normally take over-packing to grotesque extremes) and put on our flip flops. You gotta have your flip flops on for such an occasion. As we grabbed each other's hands, walking out at 2:00 pm on our way to check into the hotel room, we immediately became tourists in our own town. The transition was effortlessly instant. Our eyes lit up and everything became a novelty for us. We stopped by the organic market to load up on room snacks and it felt like a sweet foreign store in a small vacation town ...Walking the aisles we frequent daily (sometimes twice a day) was like the first time. We even discovered new snacks together (Yes, we like supermarkets). The streets of our own town felt different too, miraculously experienced like never before. 

"It's All Yours!"

The hotel room was quiet, neat, clean and bonus- there were no toys for us to stumble upon on the floor. It was also missing piles of dirty laundry waiting to be served. It said, "Hello, welcome! Come on in! Jump on the bed! Look at the breathtaking view! Breathe! It's all yours!" It was just Goog and me and it felt like we had traveled a thousand miles. When we woke up from the first nap I have taken in months, there was a brand new sense of relaxation in the air. We were so mindful of every moment in this vacation that, even though it was only a total of 27 hours including sleep, naps and 3 Lulu visits, it felt complete and fulfilling as an appropriately deserving couple's getaway should. Also, the way it was designed allowed us to avoid the pain of missing her. It was just right. So yes, knowing that your fakation is so short makes you appreciate every second of it, not to mention that you don't need to deal with the misery of missing your baby, which makes the pleasure even more unobstructedly pure.

Freshly napped

We walked back home for Lulu's bedtime as we finished gulping our beautifully lazy afternoon. After nursing and exchanging our customary million kisses goodnight, I was ready for our night out. I honored my little black dress fetish (the fetish isn't little, I assure you) and put on red lipstick for the first time ever not as part of a costume. Goog put on his sexy version of an LBD and we were off, leaving Lulu for the night with her uber-dedicated Grandma.

Red Lipstick Debut

Our intimate date was followed by a long night's sleep and the highlight: We slept in! I can't remember the last time I slept uninterruptedly till 7:30 and didn't even need to get out of bed. Now, THAT was a novelty (at least in the last year or so)! Our coffee-in-bed tradition made a revival appearance. Pre-parenthood it was a prerequisite. It's the little things...(although coffee in our household is far from a little thing. One of Lulu's first verbal expressions was "a cup of coffee," which sounds like "Ka Ko," but we know what she means.)
At 9:00 we met Lulu and Grandma in the park outside our hotel for some late morning cuddles and mama's milk.

Morning Visit Glory

We then proceeded to more original family unit time, which included a solid fakation breakfast dressed up as a luxurious brunch.
Even though we had to check out at noon, our fakation was not over. We brought our humble luggage back home as Lulu was getting ready for her nap so that we could recharge on some more hugs and kisses. Now, the next fakation activities had been left open to figure out on the spot, and so we ended up with the most romantic Target and Whole Foods visits we have had in a long time. But that's just us. Fakation time can be filled with whatever floats your sexy boat.
Two hours before bedtime was the official ending of our fakation, but since our batteries had been so meticulously recharged, it felt as if it lasted till...the next morning. But I'll tell ya, this fakation was as real as it gets.

My Birthday: A Long Night's Journey Into Day

So I effortlessly survived Lulu’s first birthday. I believe that writing about it and analyzing why I was reluctant to reach that date made it simple, easy and actually joyous for me.

But I almost didn't survive my own birthday this past holiday weekend. Except that I did and I am so grateful that I did, especially since one wrong move could have turned it into quite a depressing occasion. Dramatic statements aside, I will cut to the chase: I didn’t sleep the night before my birthday. At all. Okay, maybe 20 minutes. Apart from my long labor and delivery, I had never been in an up-all-night situation that didn’t derive from partying and resulted in sleeping till the afternoon.

A blast from the past

Ah, parties, dancing. I miss that. Needless to say, those all-nighters were cheery and fun. Three nights ago it was the most vicious insomnia I’ve ever encountered (I guess I can’t escape the dramatic lingo today. Bear with me.), and I’ve had my share of vicious insomnia, especially since becoming a mom. But even the very worst insomnimama nights yielded some amount of sleep- two, two and a half hours….something! And even the worst baby-not-sleeping nights always allowed a courteous minimum. The night before my birthday pooped in my face.

I tried everything. Breathing, lavender drops on my pillow and all over my body (I think I finished the bottle), writing, visualization, even a foot massage from my poor Goog, who was woken up by my deep breathing and generously offered to save me from my sleepless abyss. Did my subconscious decide to attack me? I’m reluctant to admit that it did. I think I had suppressed how much I was dreading this particular birthday. One reason was similar to why I had been dreading Lulu’s first birthday. Accomplishments...A year has flown by and I haven’t taken more than one professional step. My career passions have been replaced by my passions as a new mother, but I’m noticing a shift these days. Even though it’s so hard to leave my Lulu for more than a couple of hours, I can see myself going back to performing within a modified schedule. I’m starting to feel it. It’s been a slow process and my upcoming birthday wasn’t helping. I would be a year older with nothing to show for it other than motherhood. I know, I know, I’m so hard on myself, but I have to be honest here. It’s such a challenge to be constantly mindful of what I really want versus what I should want. I would like to believe that I have successfully maintained my integrity and followed my heart instead of forced myself to do what I wasn’t ready to do. The problem is that even though I’m now feeling ready to make a small shift, it’s so damn difficult to reinvent my career while being deeply invested in my mothering style, which I’m definitely proud of.

You think I’m vain? Wait for the next reason I suspect was keeping me up. I miss my parties! I miss my fun birthday parties. Am I done being a party girl?! I used to have an elaborate celebration every year. Every year! A good friend told me that once you become a parent there’s no longer room for your own birthday party. I refuse to accept that. But there’s no birthday party this year, and I miss ANY adult-type party. And dancing. Dancing. I can’t stress it enough. Going out dancing. Being carefree.

My subconscious was attacking me because of one more thing, hardest for me to admit: My avoidance of thoroughly dealing with my dad’s passing when Lulu was growing inside me. I miss him so much. It was going to be my second birthday without him, without his irreplaceable blessings and love, without our tight bond, without the language that only he and I shared. So much pent up.

As dawn was approaching, I was busy obsessing over how I had completely ruined my birthday because I would be a functionless, moody, ugly, puffy-eyed, puffy-faced zombie. The last drops of nighttime completely evaporated as I was stressing over the worst case scenario, but morning arrived and so did the salvation of my devoted family spreading endless love, a dreamy nursing session and my morning coffee served just the way I like it. Not that the coffee woke me up at all, but after such a dark and scary night, my familiar morning routines became sturdy anchors of comfort.

Morning Salvation for puffy mama

I tried to speak but it was impossible for full words to come out. What a freaky sensation. They tried really hard, yet only half words got out and no one understood what I was trying to say. I surrendered and stopped talking altogether.

I knew the plans for the day would need to be adjusted, but all I really wanted on that early morning moment was to lay flat and not move all day. I thank God, inertia and the very costly last minute cancellation fee for forcing me out of the apartment. Holding hands with my dear mother, we headed to the glorious Great Jones Spa for a birthday treat. I’m sure that somewhere in my deliriously foggy brain, I knew it was the best option. 

As soon as we walked in, I found myself telling the receptionist the story of my life. From my half words earlier, I moved into nonsense talk. I really didn’t make any sense, which makes me so grateful that she ushered us right away into the locker room. The original plan was a quality spa morning with my mom, a facial and a massage. We ended up spending all morning and much of the afternoon in the most soothing and rejuvenating setting, resting, bonding, relaxing, eating delicious organic food and drinking lemon water between Jacuzzi dips.

Post-facial face drinking
 carrot-beet-kale elixir

To my surprise, I didn’t fall asleep during the facial and massage and I still struggled with taking deep breaths, but there was no magic pill for the stress I had been keeping inside. Luckily, there was progression in the breathing department though and by the time we set up shop at the Water Lounge, I was ready to take my deepest breaths of the day thus far. The Jacuzzi was my peak. I closed my eyes and felt effortlessly relaxed. Wow.

A note about FACIALS. I don’t believe in resolutions for many reasons but I hereby declare that I am making an exception when it comes to FACIALS. Who knew what they could do?! ("Most women," you’ll say, but I’m a strange creature.) I couldn't believe it! I should be doing this regularly! I think the rule is every season? I deserve it! Why didn’t I know that? Where have I been?! I have no idea what that lady did, but when I came out of that room I didn't look like someone who hadn’t slept all night. My skin was glowing, vital, smiling with satisfaction. It's not used to being treated with such respect, but I’m putting a stop to it. My birthday present for myself is the decision to get facials. Since I’m a woman of my word, there’s no way back.

  

Deep breathing

As we headed home it was pretty clear that my romantic birthday dinner with Goog wasn't going to happen, as I hardly managed to drag my feet home. We still wanted to have some form of a birthday dinner so Goog had the brilliant idea to go to the new pizzeria across the street. We had the place to ourselves at 5 PM and it was perfect. Far from what was planned but warm, cozy, full of love and simplicity that only a pizza dinner can provide. And it included my mom and Lulu, which was the real treat.

Pizza party!

I can wholeheartedly say that I had the best birthday I could have imagined under the circumstances. Even aside from the circumstances it was an incredibly precious day, and just like the enlightening facial, I know I deserved it. I also deserved the uninterrupted NINE hours of sleep that followed my 8:30 pm bedtime that night.

My Birthday Lessons/Presents for Myself:

1. Get a facial every season (Who am I kidding? Let’s make the goal once a year.)

2.  Say “I deserve it” more often and act accordingly. It would be too ambitious ask myself to always mean it so I will settle for saying it.

3. Embrace change/change in plans and make the best of it (no sleep, messy career perplexities, birthday plans, and the list is long…). Not that I don’t normally try to apply this idea, but my birthday was such an eye-opening reminder.

4. Enhance my gratitude practice.

5. Learn to let things out before they bite me in the ass by keeping me up all night. If my new motherhood taught me that there’s no room for that, it hasn't been a helpful lesson because it clearly doesn't serve me. More importantly, it is opposite of the example I wish to set for Lulu.

Owning it: Happy Birthday to me! 

How Dare I Dread Her First Birthday?

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.....4 days to Lulu's first birthday and not only am I not armed with elaborate festivity plans or a festivities plan, I'm actually dreading it. I've just typed the word "dreading" and I'm about to delete it before I reach for the beat-myself-up button for letting my shameful brain come up with it. But I need to be honest with myself and figure out what's going on. Brutally, if possible. So yes, it sounds like even our supermarket cashier is more excited about Lulu turning one than I am. Everyone around me keeps saying, "You must be soooooooo excited! ", "What do have planned?". They've been saying it for at least a couple of months and I have been under the impression that it would all come naturally, but it's 4 days to the big day and nada. What's wrong with me?
How about a brutally honest list. I never do this (compose lists that explain things, not be brutally honest), but I will now. Get to the bottom of this strange phenomenon and perhaps be more prepared for Saturday. It will also be nice to find a way to get pumped.

4 days, Mama. Get with the program.

Dig Deep.
Why am I Not Getting Excited About Lulu's First Birthday: A Brutally Honest List





1. The Headache:
Okay, I'm starting with the obvious. It's a big day. Monumental. Your first baby's first birthday happens only once (any birthday happens only once but no one is asking me). I'm a performer, a producer, an artistic mama. There are high expectations here. Up to par, mama. Up to par! But whether it's other people's expectations or mine, I'm not supplying the goods. Part of me feels it would be silly to create a whole production for someone who would not fully recognize its purpose.
I go back and forth, but we already set a date for the party. I want small and intimate at home, but we have a big family so that's not realistic. We are keeping it at home, though. That's where I draw the line. How do we fit everyone in our apartment? Well, that's why it's called The Headache.
Resolution? Waiting till the last minute. I'm serious. I tend to work well under time pressure, and so said Headache will be reduced to a short amount of time.

2. "Just a Little Bit Longer"- Fear of the Unknown:
I was never ready to give birth to Lulu. The combination of enjoying my pregnancy and being quite phobic about labor and delivery pain resulted in the intense wish to extend it "just a little bit longer." I may be reluctant to cross the first year finish line because the second year brings about a new system: Toddlerhood. I'm just so enchantedly adept and conversant in the Infancy system that I would like to enjoy it for just a little bit longer. Can you blame me? (Please don't answer that.) I recognize it's not possible just as much as I recognized that keeping Lulu in my belly forever wasn't possible either, but a girl can dream. Regardless, even though I have a mild or severe case of resistance to change, it is essential to remind myself three things: (a) It's coming very soon, whether I like it or not. (b) Similar to the moment Lulu was born, instantly ending my beloved pregnancy, I will end up passionately relishing and rejoicing in the new chapter. (c) Embracing rather than resisting has always paid off, with interest.

3. A Case of "I'm Not Ready for Her to Grow Up":
This is close to my previous point but deserves its own point simply because I've been there once before when we needed to start solids. Lulu turning a year old strongly resonates with the sensation that she's growing up too fast. I'm spitting distance from imagining her leaving the nest.
Once again, it would be wise to remember the start-of-solids days. New discoveries are exciting and I tend to wholeheartedly enjoy them. So there.

4. I'm Not Where I Thought I Would Be:
Uh-oh...There we go. Deep breath. A year ago I had a different idea of where I would be when Lulu turns one. I didn't think it would take me so long to reconnect with the pre-motherhood me. It's taken me a while and it's still a mystery, especially in the career department. It has taken me a lot longer than I anticipated to feel ready to work and create again and I'm finally there; however, now I'm tortured by the idea of leaving Lulu on a regular basis. I'm profoundly enjoying raising this magnificent human being who is by far my best creation, even with the natural challenges of early motherhood. I'm sorely torn. But I digress. My point is that a whole year sounded like a really long time prior to Lulu's birth. I had plans for myself. Even though deep inside I had a feeling that I would be fervently consumed with being a mother, I didn't imagine that at the year mark I would still be so, hmm, well, consumed. I had a general plan to nurse, for instance, but I didn't anticipate how much I would love it and that it wasn't going to stop at a year. And that's just one example. Embracing really paid off, but it's also confusing. I'm still figuring out my new identity. I continue to find myself once in a while deluded with the idea that I can go back to exactly how I was pre-motherhood. So yes, extending this year will allow me to figure things out, clarify myself to myself and be where I had expected to be. But isn't it foolish? Once again, I'm holding on to hollowness, setting myself up with a useless trap (are traps ever useful? Discuss.). Where am I going with this? The only thing I can truly accomplish by obsessing over my pre-conceived plan is a colossal waste of time, precious time I could be spending by actually creating and reconnecting with what I miss doing. Ouch.
Let go.  
Looking deep inside, I realize that I'm thrilled to discover my career path as a mother. At a minimum, I'm pretty sure I have new and improved colors and depths to offer as a performer. 

Party?! Every day is a party!!

Phew. So....now that I've dissected the reasoning behind my "dreading", am I prepared? Pumped? Psyched? Based on my exhaustively exhausting investigation, while hoping you haven't fallen asleep just yet, it's inevitable for me to conclude that if allow myself to fully and wholeheartedly exist in the moment, dreading Lulu's upcoming birthday would be an impossibility. 



I'm going to focus on the moment. 
Embracing the moment. The moment never disappoints me. I'm counting on it to pay off, with interest, as always.
Will report from the field.

How to Not Force the Force

Me time. Writing/creating time. But nothing. Nothing. 
I'm sitting at Bwe, drinking half-caff of the best, smoothest, most inspiring coffee ever. Seriously, this place is populated by so many writers/authors/bloggers/creators. It's in the air, and probably in the coffee. Why am I getting nothing today? I'm always full of ideas here. But now, on this Sunday afternoon, equipped with the right amount of carved time, my mind is wandering anywhere but....
What's going on?

Can't think of anything? Shoot some selfies!

My last post was all about being back, and Monday night's NYC premiere of Dovid Meyer confirmed the new sensations. Ready to rock n' roll, yes!! New ideas for the video series, interesting new directions, all around inspiration. Momentum. 

Is it because it's half-caff? Is it the too much sake last night? I keep forgetting that there's no sleeping in anymore (till kids go to college?) and that my low alcohol tolerance is even lower as long as I'm nursing (case in point, I had half a glass...). Or is it the fact that today is cold and gray, again? Even though spring has officially started already, it seems like we're still in the midst of the coldest, longest winter ever. Not the friendliest winter to a new mom...Too many snow storms, too many strolling naps in the hallway, too much cabin fever, not enough light, not enough air, not enough social interaction...
Okay, what's with the party pooping? That's not like me. Positive, positive!

Luxuriating in some party pooping

Maybe it's none of the above. Maybe artificial carved out time isn't the way to go. Maybe I need to let my inspiration allow itself to materialize whenever it pleases. Okay, keep talking. This makes sense! How many times have I felt it so powerfully (thank you, Spin class!) but haven't taken it anywhere? I think I have just figured out the key for me. I guess the old me just needs to make some adjustments to motherhood. Did I really think that the old me was just gonna take over? Okay, slightly deluded, but hey, I'm a work-in-progress, and I'm pleased with my new realization (was it obvious to you?). From now on, notes, notes, notes. That's all I need. So when I finally have a moment to sit down, I will be able to fill it with enchanted creative flow derived from notes, notes, notes. 

Okay, I'm going to enjoy staring out the window and taking deep breaths. Let it go. Take it in. Spring is around the corner.

Out the window. Almost spring.

Setting Up a New Stage- My Old Me is Reborn

As I was typing the above title, I realized the heavy responsibility that comes with it. I'm now held accountable for my new discovery....And since I'm big on integrity, I'm committed to reconnecting with my pre-baby creativity/art/passions/persona, which organically resurfaced in me this week. I'm so delightfully pleased to know that I didn't push or force myself. Knowing that I didn't need to is an extra bonus. I embraced motherhood and it felt good. Still, I can't say that I wasn't terrified to pause once in a while, unable to find a trace of who I used to be. 
My dear friend A. said it best, "Told you that somewhere around a year you truly begin to recognize yourself again in the context of life's most important role...".
So I'm starting with a video project. I'm hoping to make it a series. 
)

New Year. New Room. New Sleep Era

I'm big on integrity, which might explain why I haven't blogged in how long? How could I possibly face you after committing to an immediate big move and not following through for...two whole months?

  

So we finally did it, and now I can look you in the eye. 

Lulu moved to her own room yesterday. We figured New Year's Eve would be the right time. Yes, it took us a long time and a lot of "Next week for SURE!". In our defense I will say that in the last two weeks we have had an added reason (or excuse) to push it off (what about the other month and a half, you might ask). 

You see, Lulu started sleeping through the night, which meant WE started sleeping at last. It was a long process that took dedication, endless love, hard work and... one single moment of discovering sleeping on her belly. A word on that: I think the United States is only place where belly sleeping isn't encouraged until babies get there on their own, but we followed the "rules" and waited, even though we knew it would be the best comfortable position (we also had proof - numerous peaceful supervised naps). My mom actually demanded that I apologize to Lulu for not letting her get to belly sleeping sooner...

I digress. Belly sleeping was our game changer and we became apprehensive about messing with this delicious taste of relief. Who knows how Lulu will take the move? I became anxious, creating scenarios of returning to sleepless nights, insomnia and other fun stuff. I started telling myself that I needed only one more night of uninterrupted sleep before we took the plunge...one more...two more...three more. 

Instead I should have focused on Lulu's tremendous future upgrade. Unmatched accommodations and amenities: No more shaky Pack n' Play! She was going to move to a room of her own, free of tiptoeing whispering parents who still managed to wake her up while trying hard not to. Her new bed was much bigger, which means more space to explore. Her mattress was the real deal, not to mention the plush organic mattress pad and sheet. The works! We personally would be very pleased to sleep in this crib if we could fit in it.

Upgrade. The works.

Cut to 12.31.2013

Morning nap approaching. As we go through our nap ritual (rituals work so well with babies!), my heart is missing a beat or two. Not only was I naturally expecting major resistance, I was also deeply pondering the meaning of this next step. Separate rooms. Separate rooms. It means so many things. So many...

I do dig the new digs. Better than Ima and Aba's for sure. Better colors too.

I put Lulu in her shiny new crib while her Aba was filming the historical event (yes, we're dorks). I showed her where I had placed her pacifiers as I always do and left the room. Within the next 5 minutes I went in 3 times, probably for 10 seconds each. Each time Lulu cried simply because she couldn't find the pacifiers (it is a bigger bed after all), not because she wasn't happy with the sleeping arrangement.  She actually seemed very comfortable and fell asleep on her own. Goog and I looked at each other in disbelief. That's it. She's sleeping. Done. History.

Serenity Now!

I will admit that drops of anxiety managed to creep in as the evening approached. That's what counts. Night sleep. What if...What if. Well...what a waste of anxiety. Our incredible baby fell asleep as soon as we said Lyla Tov and had the best night's sleep into the new year!!! Unbelievable! Which reminds me....Another historical occasion is the fact that it was the first New Year's Eve I can remember being asleep before midnight. Party girl is now a mama and isn't able to stay awake to celebrate the new year. How did this happen?! We put up a fight but lasted only till 11. Ok, 10:50...Ok, 10:45. Ok, we didn't really put up a fight....we just went to bed as soon as we were done with our midnight toast (midnight in Buenos Aires). Surprisingly I was able to fall asleep easily. After all, we've had Lulu in our room since she was born, 8.5 months ago, and I anticipated difficulty. But all I got was a little pinch in my heart looking over the deserted Pack n' Play, about 60 seconds of staring into the monitor, watching Lulu sleeping like a champion and one very long & strong hug which smelled a lot like a combination of "We finally did it, yay!" and "Our little girl left the nest, oy!". And that was it. Smooth entry into 2014. Glorious sleep. I'm proud to say well deserved.

Wishing you all a glorious year! Happy New Year!

I like it here! Happy New Year!!!