Fast Track to Slowing Down

Gordon's at the Garden

What in the world are you up to? I mean, it's been two years since your last post, and it's not like there were a lot of posts in 2014! Yeah, I know. Kind of like my so-called journal. It's not like I have a blog following, or reason to post. In fact, this might just turn out to be starting essays for future books of the same title. I write when I feel the inspiration, which is why I could not do this for a living. Well, these three little lovelies are the reason I've been gone and why I've returned. I moved from the Fast Track to only God-knows-where, to the lanes of slowing down to savor and flourish. April 11, 2016 to be exact. That was the day I looked up from a low, low spot and said, "There is a better way and I'm going to find it." A better way to be "successful", a better way to be a "young up-and-comer", a better way to "save the world or die trying". So far, it's worked out. I will remember more of those little smiles my kids provide me daily. I will come up with better solutions to problems I've re-conceptualized in my work. I will expand my positive spectrum of light and drown out the darkness of committed-too-much-and now-i'm-tired despair. I'm not afraid to put it out there. I mean, it's been 6 months now so I can be a little more certain it's a "change". Slowing down did require a lot more effort than I expected. Remarkably, what I've found is that the "slow" lane is kinda like the moving walkway at airports: a lot less effort put in but you end up moving at a faster pace than everyone else because you're getting help. More smiles, more love, more energy, more time to embrace my journey and the people that make it all worthwhile.

Why I Smile at a Trial

Over the past week I've felt that transcendent sense of insignificance that always brings me back to authentic happiness in my faith in a God that is sovereign and beneficent. It is quite the strange design that we tend to take our benefits for granted until they are threatened or lost, and are offered the opportunity for deep gratitude and contentment in the face of suffering. Surely there are many that don't see it that way: a trial is a trial and nothing good is found there. However, I'm reminded today about how authentic happiness is possible because of adversity and the process of enduring/overcoming. In this family photo, I'm feeling pretty happy. Was not the case 10 years prior when I was still in the thick of ambivalent attachment to this institution so strongly associated with my accident. But this time, sharing my alma mater with my family and friends, I was arguably the happiest I had ever been there. After graduating, I was thinking I'd have a "rest of your life pass" on major adversity, but that has not been the case. In fact, as I've gotten older and build a family of my own, it only seems I have even more at risk. So what a wonderful thing to feel and know that Life does not dictate my state of happiness. It's internally determined with the help of a God that sustains and strengthens me. Since most of us do not know the length of our days, it is wise to greet each moment with full engagement.

Discomfort Zone

It is part of life to be tested, challenged, moved out of your comfort zone. I think if you stay where you are comfortable, you will not grow. Like a flower in a pot, you will use up your nutrients and no amount of water or sunlight will help. You just have to MOVE and get to a rich environment. Maybe because I am older, I am more accepting of being nudged by life to the discomfort zone. I have learned to trust the process and also learned that fighting it does not help. I wonder if there is a way to teach this to our children. Maybe by resisting the idea that everyone gets a trophy for participation or by saying "no"when you had the means to say "yes" because you don't want them becoming entitled. Today I am celebrating the Discomfort Zone. On the other side there is always...the other side. :)

A new 12-Step Program?

I really think they should start a 12-Step program for Control Freaks.  But they couldn't call it "CA" since that's taken (cocaine anonymous). They already have workaholics anonymous, but I don't think that completely fits. Here are my proposed 12 steps:

1. We admitted we were powerless over controlling every detail of our life --- and that as a result of our controlling spirit, our lives had become unmanageable.
2. Came to believe that ONLY a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood God.
4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
5. Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.
6. Became entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.
7. Humbly asked God to remove our shortcomings.
8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.
9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.
10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.
11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood God, praying only for knowledge of God's will for us and the power to carry that out.
12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to controlling people everywhere (without insisting they listen of course), and to practice these principles in all our affairs. 

So I have worked through these steps, in part, and my conclusion is...if you can get #1 you have hope. Now, it's not cool to admit that you've got an issue with control. In doing so, you're basically saying that you're not in control which people with this issue can't tolerate! (See the importance of Step 1?) Learning that the world will still turn even if you let go is pretty tough when you are used holding the reigns so tight your knuckles turn white. Even if you do get a personality transplant through years of therapy, laying on of hands, eating a raw diet, meditation, cutting out your exposure to phthalates, or some other mechanism--chances are in times of stress you will go back to your old ways and search for subtle acceptable ways to take charge (making 'better' to-do lists, revising 5- and 10-year plans, trying new 'self-help' system that promises relief, organizing closets) . My proposed solution for this scenario involves running through the Steps in your mind and trying to work the program. Well, in honor of Step #12, I'm putting this idea out there to inspire others that "Let Go, Let God" is more than a nice song they play on the radio or thing that old folks say. Try it out and see where it takes you!

A Mother's Day Memo for Real Moms

Some people say that you're not a real mom until you're outnumbered. Others, more recently have said that you're not a real mom unless you breastfeed your child after they are potty trained and can write in cursive (or something like that). Some people say you're not a real mom unless you gave birth to the child, others say not unless you did so "naturally". Some say you need to have XX chromosome to be a real mom, others say only if you make your own baby food and use organic cotton. 

Well, here's what I say: Anyone who loves a kid who just threw up on them is a real mom. You know you're a real mom when you can admit that sometimes your kids get on your nerves, and anyone who denies this is a real mom who also lies. I say you're a real mom if you are a "do-it-all" single mom, and still a real mom if you have one nanny per child. I'll even give you "credit" if you simply delivered a baby and walked away. Why? Because like it or not, and no matter how great their mom that raised them was, that baby will grow up one day and wonder about their "real mom". Many of us have moms who made us, moms who raised us, moms who advised us, and moms who chastised us. They are sometimes one in the same, but more often than not, the lucky ones of us have more than one.I adopt new moms on a regular basis and not because there's anything wrong with my "real mom" either. I just love moms. Some of us have lost our moms. Whether our bio-moms or our chosen-moms, I'm sure the pain is the same. I guess what I'm saying is that in my book, there are no fake moms.

So, since Mother's Day is the time we set aside to honor our mom(s) and reflect on how much we love them (or resent the day because we don't), here's a shout out to all the real moms of the world:Good and Bad, Loved and Despised, Rich and Poor. I honor you all, because none of us would be who we are without somebody mothering them.

Our Daughter: Thank Heaven!

Elisheva Louise Wrenn Gordon made her grand entrance into the world on March 31st, 2012 at 2:05 pm EST. She was a delicate 6 pounds, 8 ounces, and 20 inches long. In case you're wondering, her first name is pronounced "El-ee-SHEV-ah". If you're having trouble, just call her Ellie. She was named after the mother of John the Baptist, who was also the wife of Aaron the priest. She was the cousin that Mary visited when she was pregnant with Jesus, and their babies "leaped in the womb". Elisheva was an encouragement to Mary. Eli means "my God". Sheva can mean either "oath" or "sustenance". ("Sheva" also means seven in Hebrew.) The name Elisheva means "my God has sworn" or "God's promise". According to some interpretations, Elisheva was the same as Puah, one of the righteous midwives mentioned in Exodus 1. Those who hold this interpretation believe that her position as ancestress of the priestly caste was a reward for saving the Hebrew children. (Gotta love wiki, right?)
The Birth Story:
Ellie was due to arrive April 7th, 2012. Although I wanted her to come early, perhaps on the birthday of my dearly loved, late grandmother Alice (April 3rd), I certainly was not expecting her today. In fact, I had several things planned for today. A morning spa day with my co-worker/girlfriend, the usual tag team with Akil over Avi's hockey practice (while I watch Isaiah at home) and the Saturday afternoon work session (where I planned to get all that last minute work done before starting leave). I was even planning to take Avi on another "mommy date night" to a Worship Jam session. There was much work to be done as far as I was concerned.
Well, since I already had a fresh coat of paint on my nails and toes from last week, I had to come up with something else to do at the spa. A little waxing, a foot massage to soothe those achy pregnant feet. I relaxed, and told the girl "work on the bottom of my feet, they are so tight". Initially she protested, "I'm not supposed to do that because you're pregnant". I replied, "this girl's practically fully baked, I won't tell on you if I go into labor." She agreed and I felt so grateful for it. Around 11:15am I was due to get Isaiah, but running late, so I asked Akil to drop him by the spa (which is across the street from our house). In the meantime, I told my friend, Liz, I think I should go to the bathroom and check myself out, I think I might be having contractions. But there was someone in the bathroom, and I didn't feel like waiting. I glanced at the clock, sensing there was a kind of rhythm to my usual "contractions" that I don't usually "count". I thought today maybe Avi should miss hockey, as it was a 30 minute drive. Another option was to see if Liz could stay with me and Isaiah just in case. I asked her if she could stay (she has a 6 month old herself and a husband likely anxious to get her back home). She was contemplating, and after consulting her hubby (who wondered aloud, why is hockey more important than labor?) she agreed to stay until I could get my other "1st call team" to come to the house.

When Akil arrived at the spa, I tried to break it coolly that I might be in early labor. I ran through the options, and he too wondered why I was still trying to get Avi to go to hockey practice. Truth is, I didn't believe I was in labor, and I would feel guilty if he missed practice for nothing. On the other hand, if he missed the birth (which he was planning to attend and cut the cord), that would be equally bad (not to mention Akil would miss it too). So reason won over denial (momentarily) and I agreed to go home and lay down to "count my contractions". Akil asked if I wanted him to drive me. Of course, I insisted on walking back--the same way I got there (denial returns quickly).
Before we left the spa, Liz asked me how far apart the contractions were. This is when I realized that despite medical school and two other children, I had no idea how to properly "count contractions'. I always counted the "space of no pain", the length of time the contractions were separated by. This makes sense since as a woman seeking natural birth, my main criteria for going to hospital is when I think the pain is too great to stay home. Turns out you're supposed to count from start to start. No wonder why I'm always getting to the hospital right when the baby comes out!. I was already 4 minutes apart. But I'm thinking, this means they're going to make me go in early, and I don't want to labor there (even though I knew I should to avoid a "car birth").
We got back home around 11:30am and I proceed to question the reality of labor: "Do I have to count a back contraction? Shouldn't I wait until they really hurt to count them?". Akil and Liz (both doctors) just shook their heads. I tried to keep Akil from calling my midwife, childishly refusing to remind him of the name of the practice (he actually started to go through our medical papers to get the number). I eventually agreed to call, and after the most confusing answering service navigation ever, I finally got the midwife on call on the line. I reminded her that this was baby #3, that I have a history of fast labors, and that I was 4 minutes apart for the past hour. But maybe the calmness of my voice was too soothing, and she recommended I call her back in an hour. Even I knew that was crazy. I kindly suggested that I'd call her sooner if the contractions got stronger or closer together.
Akil started calling members of our "on call" team. I didn't want people missing work or messing up a beautiful Saturday for a false alarm, so I was torn. But I had to let Liz go home at some point (although she made for a very excellent doula). So we planned out our approach. We would give everyone a heads up and give regular updates. My contractions were getting stronger and both Akil and Liz were keeping count. The problem is, I'm terrible at keeping track when distracted so I would leave out a few, or misstate when one was starting. I lamented, "this is so complicated", Akil lamented, "this was so much easier when you just woke me up in the middle of the night ready to go to the hospital". I mostly complained that I wasn't ready to go the hospital, I wanted to stay home longer. At one point, Akil asked Liz "how far apart were those?" I knew they were close so I quickly mouthed to Liz "don't tell him". She replied semi-honestly, "Well either 2 minutes or 4 minutes apart". We laughed and I said, "2, 4, what's the difference?" But after 30 minutes and now needing to focus during contractions, I agreed to was time to call back the midwife and basically tell her I was coming in.
We loaded up the car, and got to the hospital. Liz's relief team came (a couple from our church small group) and reinforcements were on the way. Despite my pre-registration, they insisted I fill out duplicate paperwork and told me they would get me a room "soon". About 20 minutes later, I'm laboring in the hallway, still waiting and wondering what is the deal. I think because I didn't come in after my water broke, and I look so calm they are taking their time. I got fed up after a while, and ask Akil to be a bully and get me a birthing room STAT. 5 minutes later we get back and the medical circus begins.
We're actually completing an "admission interview", with the SAME questions on my electronic medical record, in my pre-admission registration, and what I just answered at the front desk (this is why we need health reform!). I delegate Akil to this round of redundancy and remind the nurse that I tend to progress quickly. She's debating the IV, they can't find anyone free to start one and I'm supposed to get antibiotics as a precaution. My midwife arrives and I tell them they are losing their window to start an IV and that if it's no difference to them I'd gladly do without it. A few contractions later I tell them, "my water just broke". They finally get around to checking my cervix and tells me "you're complete." I'm thinking "they really should be getting ready to catch this baby".
Avi's playing games on Akil's phone, the nurses clear the room '"to get help", and we're all alone. I think Akil is the only one any paying attention at this point. I tell Akil, "this is kind of like a home birth, we're pretty much by our self here". The midwife comes back and asks me "do you feel the urge to push?" I reply, "well, I could, but I don't have to. I'm okay" (another case of ridiculous pain tolerance outweighing reason). She says, well listen to your body and if you want to push see if it helps the pain at all. Next contraction I try pushing a little, "wow, that does feel better". (Mind you, the bed is not broken down and I'm lying partly on my side). Next contraction I feel baby coming down fast. "Oh, you know, I think she's coming out". Akil pulls back the sheet and says, "yeah she's coming". Since the nurse is still donning her gloves, with one hand she pushes the call button and with the other she guides my hand down while asking, "do you want to get her?" I say, "Sure" and give a little push and grab her head. Next contraction, and she's in my arms. I'm cracking up inside thinking, "I just delivered my own baby, does that mean I get a discount on my hospital fees?"
And there you have it. Another hilarious memory. An angel born on her own terms, in the full light of the sun. Avi steps in to cut the cord and eventually Isaiah comes to meet his new sister.

Will post more pictures later. Now, I really should probably rest. :)

French Fries, Free Shipping, and Other Blessings

After a long day at work this week, I stopped by Mickey D's to quench a rare craving for those delicious fries (that together with a modest meat and beverage, can supply a full day's worth of caloric intake). I am eating for two, right? Okay, so I know you only need 300 extra calories a day, and that a more moderate woman would find a way to be happy with the dollar fry, but when else in a woman's life do people encourage you to "eat up" and compliment you on your "beautiful glow" despite that fact that you have added 2 pounds weekly? To add to this, my inner fry addict (who is normally repressed by heavy doses of self-administered cognitive behavioral therapy) is rarely allowed to savor the euphoria of the "fry miracle". And this is the reason for my being brought to such a state of happiness that I had to share my testimony with you. What is the fry miracle, you ask? Well, if you have to ask, you must not share my deep affection for the carbohydrate concoction, best enjoyed hot.
Fry Miracle: After devouring a fresh-out-of-the-fryer serving of fries (which you really tried to resist for the sake of the burger who must now wait a full 10 minutes to join the party in your tummy), you arrive at home to enjoy the civilized way to eat dinner (on a plate, in a non-mobile, seated position). As you unpack the bag, you discover that a handful of hot deliciousness has somehow managed to escape your initial attack. These treasures wait for you like a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. And since you have already eaten 500 calories worth, your self-control allows you to alternate between bites of your burger, thus extending the passionate, potato promenade to your mouth. (NOTE: if only a few, cold fries are found, this is not a miracle, but depending on how desperate you are it could result in a pleasant surprise)
One way to increase your chance for a fry miracle is to lovingly order fries for the whole family and shake the bag a few times on the way home. Technically this is morally questionable, but then again, so is "fry blasphemy" (leaving one's fries unattended, or allowing them to cool completely before consumption)--show a little respect!
Fry-lover's of the world, I know you feel me.

A second, minor blessing involves my Amazon affection. Amazon Prime is such a wonderful service. It's like having Christmas every day. Free 2 day shipping? Since you can find almost anything you would want or need on Amazon.com, there is usually little reason to buy from other sites and pay their shipping fees. Of course, you could actually shop at a "store", but gas is high, and it's not nearly as fun to go shopping with the family in a brick and mortar store as when you are surfing the web while they are playing Mario Galaxy. Some of you may be thinking, "Amazon Prime is $79 per year', to that I say: have some kids (or grandkids)! That's right, if there are but a few degrees of separation between you and a child, you can sign up for Amazon Moms, save money on stuff you have to buy to keep them alive and well cared for, and earn up to one year of Prime membership. And so I did this year. And click away, I did, saving 25-80% of the price of things I would have bought anyways. I clicked and shipped my way to Holiday Nirvana (completing one's holiday shopping with none of the holiday crowds and no worries about seeing the January CC bill). Thank you, Amazon. I know that you don't always do the best thing when it comes to what kinds of books to sell, and that you kill a lot of trees with all that shipping material, and you worsen the ozone hole with all those diesel trucks that drive so fast to get my things here in 2 days...but who's perfect? It's the free shipping that makes me happy.

Other blessings:
Upchuck-Free Days: (Think of the construction site "accident-free days" signage, then pretend your pregnant) My current record is 60. Hooray!

On Demand: Well, I actually do NOT consider Comcast a blessing, but since Netflix did not provide quite the programming I wanted, and the streaming was not always smooth, I'm going with OnDemand on this. (NOTE:Amazon instant video may become the new winner here, especially since we have the connector to show computer images on our TV and many new titles are free) This medium for movie-watching is the family way to enjoy a feature film without getting "shushed", "sighed", or "evil-eyed" at the theater. Dude, I went to the movies to see the Muppets for crying out loud, and this older woman actually moved her seat after seeing me stroll in with my two kids and nicely indicate that we had to reserve 7 other seats. I think she was worried that more little ones were on the way, but she also seemed to be annoyed that the toddler was there. Did I mention it was THE MUPPETS?!? What is wrong with the world? Anyways, since my husband had to leave the movie anyway when Zay got bored with the storyline, it stands to reason that the stress free way to have family movie-night is in the comfort of one's home. (This can be further accentuated with the addition of the "home theater", so I'm told...media room anyone?)

Sundays: Praise the Lord!So what if you can't get Chick Fil A. You can wake up later, enjoy a "full breakfast" with no guilt (because of all the praising you will do in an hour), get refreshed and challenged with the Good Word, and relax with the post-worship nap (even better when it is only the kids that want the nap, and the parents can...well...let's just say, there's no better bonus to my week than mid-day loving--marital bliss). After all that, you have several hours of non-structured possibilities. Go to the park, play a few games, or watch football. (In some homes, watching football is a somewhat of a required activity, but that is why God inspired smartphones!) In all, since Saturdays are laden with dirty laundry, restocking one's fridge, and assorted activities that your kids insist on participating in (due to the loss of the Thrashers to Canada, and overall regional dearth of hockey programs within reasonable distance of ATL, I'm pretty sure there is a journey into little league baseball in my near future)- Sundays rule. (I'm not sure this preference for Sundays is limited to Christians, but it certainly is a major bonus to have spiritual, mental, and physical rejuvenation occur on the same day).

I guess I should get some sleep now...so I can fully enjoy my Sunday!