the me I was before you

There's a picture of my mother at seventeen in an old photo album. She has long blond hair parted in the middle and sad, khol lined eyes. When I was young, I used to stare it for hours. I knew that the woman in the picture was my mother, but at the same time she was so different, so utterly foreign from the woman I knew. It was hard for me as a child to understand that my mother had had a life before, had been a person before I existed. Who was this blond haired beauty with sad gray eyes? What did she want from life? Who had taken the picture?

I wonder now what picture Leila will stumble across of me and look at with shock bewilderment, wondering who was this woman before she loved me?

In Revelstoke at 19.

cradle music

It's been a hard week. I took the girl to my parents and she basically screamed the whole time. Came home for the funeral on Saturday which was beautiful but hard. Leila's asleep right now and I got to do 40 minutes of yoga and brush my hair, and compile a play list for her so I'm not forever scrolling through itunes or trying to put the needle down on a record with her in my other arm. Here's to a better, music filled, week.

In no particular order:

Main Man, T-Rex (when singing along the lyrics are usually changed to baby instead of man)
Scarborough Fair, Simon and Garfunkle
Heart of Gold, Neil Young
Harvest, Neil Young
Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen
Hey Jude, The Beatles
My Friends for Mayor, Animal Names
I'll be your Mirror, The Velvet Underground & Nico
Family Tree, TV on the Radio
Lullaby, Tom Waits
Sloop John B, The Beach Boys
When You Awake, The Band
My Favourite Chords, The Weakerthans
Forever Young, Bob Dylan

Suggestions and contributions encouraged and appreciated.

pleasure cruise

People keep asking me if I'm enjoying motherhood. This question, however legitimate, only really has one right answer. You can't say, "no I fucking hate it, I'm overwhelmed, tired and I want to go get drunk, but I can't because she eats every hour." I do like motherhood. I like how my daughter responds to my presence, how she calms at my voice and smiles when I tickle her tummy, I like our afternoon naps together when we curl up facing each other and snuggle. It seems like a funny question in some ways too, because it's not like a bad haircut you can grow out and change. It's not even like adopting an animal you don't have time for. Now, and for the rest of my life, I will be a mother. It's not really about liking it or not liking it's about doing the best I can.

Tom bought me a motorcycle when I was eight and half months pregnant. I thought it was hilarious. When would I ever have the time or energy to learn to ride? Yet last night I found myself dreaming about riding it. I felt so free like I was flying. I would like to have the time to learn, right now it feels like I never will, but I know it won't always be like this. Leila won't  always need me so hard. She will learn to find others almost as reassuring as me. And then I'll be jealous she's not wholly mine any longer. Or maybe I won't....

calming stormy waters

Yesterday afternoon Tom and I went to Amanda's. To grieve? To sit around? To do whatever it is you do when you're shocked and saddened by the sudden randomness of life.

While we were there, Ryan Wagner called Amanda to ask her why we weren't at Krista's, where the many other sad folks had gathered to share stories and soak themselves in beer and cigarette smoke. I didn't felt like I was close enough to Devon have a legitimate reason to be there; I thought I would be intruding. Also, I've partied at that house enough to know it's not really the sort of place you bring a baby. But we went anyway, we thought she'd see how long she could hold out. When we pulled up to the house on East 15th, there were the saddest looking people I'd ever seen sprawled over the lawn and down the front steps that we've all sat on million times. The air was warm and smelled like spring and it seemed that all the dogs in East Van, including Norton, were there.

It felt good and right to be there in the end. No one looked at me and told me shouldn't be there. Rather it felt like we were adding to the collective love and sorrow, the madness of a million tears and the somewhat hysterical laughter that seems to accompany deep sadness. It was good to remember Devon in our own way. The sadness came in waves. We laughed and then someone would put on a sad song and we'd all hold each other like the world was ending and cry. Leila had her little mohawk patted by more people than I can count. I'm sure they didn't wash their hands first, but she's fine. She did them more good than the harm she received. And I noticed something interesting happening, every time I would retreat to the living room to feed her I would be the only one there, sitting on the world's most perfect nursing chair with no arms and straight back, and people would drift in and say, "oooh a baby," so by the time I was done feeding her the room would be full of people. People talking about babies. Talking about one of the million dogs that were there. Talking about Devon.

across the great divide

Yesterday Tom dressed Leila in her Ramones onsie for Devon. Said he'd been in a Ramones cover band when he was young. It seemed like all we could do in the face of great uncertainty and sorrow.

We miss you DC.

navigation equipment failure

I took Leila to the doctor today to get her two month shots. I clearly stated this to the receptionist when I called in the make the appointment. When I arrived however, I was told that I would have to go to the public health nurse, because they don't give shots since it makes babies hate going to the doctor. Awesome.

Leila was sleeping peacefully when we arrived, but I had to get her naked to weigh her which made her scream. Then she had a full physical exam which made her scream more. She was hungry, she was confused, and she was naked and cold. I could feel myself getting hot and anxious as she turned purple.

Then, with Leila still whimpering in my arms, the doctor listened to my heart as I had had a heart murmur in pregnancy. I no longer have a heart murmur, but after listening to it she exclaimed, "is your heart rate always so fast?" She was so concerned that she took my legendarily good blood pressure, which was also high. She ordered some tests and talked about a EKG to monitor my heart. I almost laughed in her face. It seemed so obvious to me that the reason my heart rate and blood pressure were through the roof was because I am intrinsically linked to my child right now. Over the months our chemical and physical dependency on each other will wane but right now, when she's upset, I'm upset, and vice versa. At this time we are physiologically linked. I thought that after I gave birth I would go back to feeling like my old self, and I'm sure eventually I will. But right now, I am still sharing my entire self with my child, so it's not surprising really that that includes my heart.

When I got Leila to the car and nursed her, ignoring my doctors orders to go straight to the clinic downstairs for blood-work, I could feel my pulse slowing, the flush leaving my cheeks. She was calm and happy, and so was I.