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 My career passions have been replaced by my passions as a new mother, but I’m noticing a shift these days.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.