The Balcony

This is the view from our balcony. However, the static image doesn't capture what this view is to me. It's really the sounds that remind me of where I am. The sound of the kids in the school, the scooters, the chime of the teacher's whistle...I've spend so much time here, in so many stages of my life, that after nine years (my first time in this apartment was June, 2003), the sounds are nostalgic for me. This apartment, this view, it brings back a myriad of memories.  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oChAXBS8EHw&feature=g-upl

My first memory of this balcony was upon walking into the apartment before I knew Francesca. I was here by myself, awaiting the arrival of a bus load of Nebraskans who would be here for Benedetta's wedding. I remember trying to find Francesca and walking into what felt like a hugely expansive living room (before the renovation it was almost double the size it is now). The walls were covered with a sort of green, velvety, striped wallpaper which made the walls leading up to the 12' ceilings appear to go on forever. There was a wall of bookshelves, completely full, that covered an entire side of the room, all the way up to the ceiling. Because the room was sort of dark, the books gave it the feeling of a library. When I walked in, Francesca was sitting by herself watching tennis. 

The second memory, about 5 days later, brings back the excitement of the first few days I realized I had a crush on Lorenzo.The fore-mentioned Nebraskans had arrived, the living room was full of them, all male, all circled around an immense block of hash, almost exactly the dimensions of a red brick. Lorenzo was sitting by the door of the balcony, smoking (before my persuasion and the birth of Ella encouraged smoking outside of the Roma house), and I remember making pretty intense eye-contact for the first time. That moment will never leave me. 

The nostalgia of the sounds of the school bring back memories of many hazy mornings during the same trip. After we had all stayed up all night, most nights, all of us Americans, too busy drinking and walking the city to sleep; the sun would come up while we were all standing on the balcony ending our night. After going to bed around 6am, the summer heat and the sounds of the school would wake me promptly at 8am, leaving me in a fog the rest of the day. Five or so espressos later, I was usually cured of the fog.

I love this balcony. I love the memories, the far newer memories of watching Luca learning to crawl in front of the open balcony doors, now playing with Sabina on the same floor. I remember after Benedetta and Trevor's wedding, sitting in the kitchen, exhausted after a full day, all of us eating leftovers from the wedding party. I remember watching Trevor talk with Francesca, Italian rolling of his tongue with ease, laughing with Lorenzo's friends, completely comfortable inside of the culture. I remember thinking, "He is so lucky. He married into such a cool life. I want that." I don't remember that thought having anything to do with Lorenzo specifically, I just remember thinking how different his life was from other people I knew who were married. That it appeared so much more exciting and fulfilling. 

I love this side of my life. I love the family I've fallen into, the family Lorenzo and I are now a part of together and the life of memories that will surround this balcony through the life of my children and maybe even my grandchildren. Now that I've had this moment to stop and breathe, I can revel in my blessings and in the dream I've managed to manifest for myself. For it really was a dream of mine to be able to speak another language and to have a reason to travel throughout my life. Yes, I can judge where I am in my life at nearly 40, I can get down on myself thinking I should be more or should be doing more. But this part, this part I'm happy to celebrate. 

Now that I have a little time on my side, what other dreams can I manifest? 

Roma Redux

And another adventure begins. Two years after our sad departure from our time living in Rome, we're back. With baby in tow again. It's like déjà vu, the good kind, when you search your brain for the familiarity and trace it back to an incredibly happy, endearing dream. The time we spent here with Luca as a baby has become a fantasy I want to recreate. Despite some of the emotional difficulties I faced in acclimating to the culture as a new mom, the time here was one of the few moments I've felt like I was my best self for a period that extended beyond those fleeting vacation days spent abroad. Those vacations only suspended my reality long enough for me to imagine a life without a work grind, I was never able to actually manifest that life for myself. The 8 months of suspended reality, living as an ex-pat, thinking it was a longer term life change, it forced me to find daily inspirations and to savor every moment I didn't have to compromise. I got to focus on being a mom without feeling the entrapment of that identity because I had a job. But the job was the first that I could leave behind when my hours were completed. But the time spent at work felt incredibly fulfilling and worthwhile. I was teaching English, which was far from a step forward on paper, but it allowed me the chance to connect with people as people and not as strange business colleagues. I had full autonomy to design my daily lessons and I dedicated myself to figuring out the best way to give people what they were ultimately looking for - a way to connect with people in a different language. I was so entrenched in that dilemma myself that it felt good to share my experience in real time and to teach people to avoid the obstacles I had tripped over more than once in my learning of Italian. Needless to say, my suspended reality will come to a close as soon as everyone wakes up here in a minute, as having kids keeps you from ever really being on vacation. But lucky for me, travel insomnia allows me to engage my inspiration and try to capture it before it scurries away when my mind gets cluttered with feeding and changing schedules. I'm not sure what to anticipate from these 5 weeks, as I'll be juggling work through three of them, but somehow this feels like a big change, like a crossroads is on the horizon. The frantic and frenetic pace I've been trying to uphold over the last 5 months since I've written a word here, has dampened a big piece of my spirit. It's the piece that reminds me I musn't be complacent and think that my story ends as my kid's stories begin. I want to be an example of what is possible, not what had to be left behind. I refuse to put my head in an oven. I'm in a new developmental milestone, one I'm beginning to believe comes for everyone right around this time. It's a turning point where our expectations of where we would be at this point in our lives leads us to judgement instead of celebration. This place is the hardest thus far, but also the most rewarding. I'm learning more than I have since my early twenties. I'm trying to figure things out again, but with many more tools at my disposal. I like this moment. Three weeks of working nights will be tough, but my daily responsibilities (pick-ups, drop-offs, babysitter/daycare schedule coordination, packing lunches, getting everywhere late), these tasks have been reduced so much that even after 14 hours of travel with two kids under 3, and no sleep, it feels like a vacation. And for me, despite working, it will be. My life as it has been over the last six months is not one that I want to return to. Things will change after this trip, I will no longer be running myself ragged the way I have been. I'm too old, I can't bounce back from that level of stress the way I once could. And fuck it, why should I try? There are better ways. I shouldn't have to run the race I've been running. Being here, with time on my hands, I am bound and determined to find them. And P.S. I realize the formatting is rough, it's 3am and I'm on the iPad and I'm too tired to figure out line breaks.

Good kids, good wine, good times

It's amazing what one night out and a good bottle of wine can do for your spirits. Plus, a good bottle doesn't leave you with a hangover in the morning which is even better. On top of that our beautiful children let us sleep in until eight, so overall, I'm feeling pretty f-ing good. After three difficult months, it's about time.

It's not what you think. Yes, two kids can be tough, but my problems are all physical. But when you have enough physical issues, they start to take their toll on your attitude and outlook, and mine has been a little bleak as a result. So let me briefly recap the list of ailments I've had to contend with since September. Mastitis. Twice. Fever included. Strep throat - two weeks. IUD insertion + minor complications. Shingles. Yup, shingles. And my first period at exactly the three month post-partum mark, which means it fell on the exact date of my last period - December 25, 2010. Then let's not forget the "normal" things one has to contend with post-pregnancy: six weeks of bleeding and cramping, boob pain, and a ridiculous amount of hair loss.

I'm not complaining, but I am telling the universe that whatever it was you wanted me to learn by all this, it's learnt.

Now that the shingles have cleared up, while I wait to see if I passed that archaic virus chicken pox onto my kids, I am enjoying another glass of good wine to keep up the inspiration I experienced from my big night out. Inspiration that came from a dinner that started at the very adult dinner time of 8:30 and continued for hours amidst a conversation that cemented the love I feel for my partner and my teammate in this life of raising human people.

If you are one of the lucky people to have found that person who you always want to be with, you've had these conversations many times over. The conversation that spurs that feeling that someone finally understands you and all of your tangents. The conversation that creates a bubble around two people fading the background into a dull hum. The conversation that makes you feel like you are in exactly the right place at exactly the right time and that you are still learning and growing with the help of this other person.

When you live together, as Lorenzo and I have for the past 7 + years, although you know that these conversations can happen, they get shadowed by the daily conversations that are critical to survival. "What are we going to eat.", "Will you take the baby while I go to the bathroom?", "Did she eat?" And then there are the truly important conflicts. "Can you please pick your underwear off the bathroom floor?", "You forgot to put the clothes in the dryer." "Where did you put my bag? You always move my stuff." Boring, necessary, routine and annoying. The moments that drive people to look for excitement elsewhere. But when you really consider this person to be your family, there is no moment when you think you won't be with them, despite the conflicts and boredom. And when the kids stop needing your breast every hour, when you can drink wine and speak adult-like again, when you can remember what you need, when you can cement your love with inspiring conversations, your partner can remind you of your best self. You start to remember how much you like to sing in the bathroom because of the fantastic acoustics, you dig out those books that light the sparks of your soul for a moment, you start a nightly routine of Motown dance parties with your two year-old, you talk with your partner about your dreams and ideas and about how you are proud to be a parent with them. And things get better. Shingles get forgotten. Life feels right. One moment at a time.

Head Above Water

I'm finally done treading water and have gotten my first gulps of fresh air. With Luca it was the first two weeks that were the hardest, with Sabina it was the first two months. I'm now 10 weeks in and it both feels like a blink of an eye and an eternity. Nothing else compares to the roller coaster of emotions that you feel in early babyhood. You have to recover from seeing your body go from large but acceptable with baby on board, to, large but empty, jelly-like and wrinkled. Then there's the vagina, I'll leave that one alone for now, but you can imagine the recovery. Boobs, 3 sizes bigger than normal, with baby constantly attached, which was incredibly painful at the start - somehow I forgot everything. And to top it all off you have this very needy little person and a very needy slightly bigger person who both cry a lot, eat a lot and poop a lot. Oh and then there's that very inconvenient thing about not sleeping. At least not more than a couple hours at a time. Have you ever based your day on trying to catch up on sleep? There's a lot of rushing through meals, conversations, and showers so that you can run to bed and try to get an hour in.

But I'm past all that. Well, most of it. I've lost the large, but still have the wrinkled pooch. The lady parts are doing well. Boobs are getting more breaks and have come down from a Pamela Anderson to a Scarlet Johannson. The little people are still needy, but my little baby lady is going to bed at 8 and only waking up once to eat. That's a game changer. It started right about the time when I had my first sleep-deprived freak out. It was my birthday and I hit a wall. I told Lorenzo, through a stream of tears, that I didn't think I could do it anymore. My post-pregnancy brain didn't know what "it" was exactly, but my tired, hunched over body new something had to change. I can still see Lorenzo's sympathetic look as he said, "Jaime, there's nothing we can do, it will get better but this is how it is right now." It's hard to believe that was more than a month ago. I have no complaints. She is a good, good baby. And when you've slept you love your kids more.

My last pregnant picture, 5 days before Sabina arrived. And that's it. The chapter on pregnancy is officially over, the milestone passed. No more contemplation about whether to have kids, whether to have two, whether I will be able to get pregnant, what will it be like, how will I handle the last uncomfortable month etc. I am no longer a mother-to-be, nor will I ever be again. I am now the mother of two children. I have kids. "The kids are at home", "the kids are at school", "the kids are doing well thanks"...Really, I'm not sure how this all happened. I never thought I would be so domestic. I accept the role lovingly, but I'll also fight it my whole life, that you can count on.

I went to the hospital around 11pm on Saturday night. I was having contractions while my parents were over for dinner, but around 11p, I realized they were getting more painful so the midwife suggested we head to the hospital. At my Thursday appointment she had told me she was on call Saturday (she's my favorite midwife in the group - Lisa - she delivered Luca), she said she could make a case to induce me if I wanted her to deliver baby girl. Of course she was partly joking, but all I could think about was how Saturday was so soon, I was still working after all, I needed a little break, at least another week. But when I got there, they didn't send me home as I thought they might. Turns out I was already 4-5 cm dilated.

So we set out to make our rounds through the halls of the maternity wing of Providence Portland. My midwife didn't have any other patients so she would wait for us at one end of the hall and tell us to make another lap. I would stop every 8 minutes or so to breathe deeply while Lorenzo wrapped me with a tight hug. He knew just how to comfort me through every contraction. At one point he asked, in all seriousness, "so what's a male midwife called, a midman?" For some reason, it cracked me up and brought on another contraction, but I couldn't stop laughing through it. I'm not sure if girl hormones are different than boy hormones, but I did a lot of laughing through labor and up until the end when Lisa said I was going to laugh the baby out.

As we walked, I couldn't get my head to realize what was happening to my body. I kept trying to explain to Lorenzo how distant I felt from the imminent sounds of a baby crying. I've never felt so mentally disconnected from an experience. For 9 months I lived as a pregnant woman, adapting to everything that means, while forgetting the part about the baby being born. I just went about my daily life, with this thing that made me different and more uncomfortable but that I just took in stride as part of my everyday. I worked hard to get my "head in the game" as my dad used to say during my sports heyday.

At just about 7 cm, when I felt the burst of my water breaking, the separation of mind and body was over. It was all I could do to turn off the part of my brain that didn't want to run another lap and to just focus on my breathing. Once I hit 8cm with contractions coming every 2 minutes, writhing with pain, I wondered why I was competing with myself and not allowing myself pain relief. I asked Lorenzo to tell me what to do. Knowing me, he took my concerns to Lisa, who entered the bathroom while I was showering, and told me I should get an epidural. It was what I needed hear, permission.

The worst contractions are the ones that come once you've decided you don't want to feel them anymore. The sensation of feeling pain for 1 minute and then absolutely nothing for 2 minutes, it's a mind fuck. You really think for a minute that the pain won't come back, and then it knocks the wind out of you like a steam train at full speed.

Next thing I knew, the room was dark, Lorenzo was snoring, the nurse was putting a blanket over me, and I'm preparing for the next contraction that doesn't come. The relief was so great that I passed out, or almost. I flashed back to Luca's birth where once I laid down, all movement stopped and a c-section became a close call. So I put my bed up a bit and started trying to move myself around. After feeling the movement was adequate, I passed out.

I woke an hour later worried that my nurse and Lisa would be changing shifts. It was 6:20am (2 hours after the epidural) and they were scheduled to leave at 7. Remembering that I pushed for 3 hours with Luca, I was sure I'd be giving birth to this baby with all new people around me. I was disappointed. But when Wendy came in to check my cervix, she saw hair and started running around confused. "I have to get Lisa. There's a baby right there." I groggily told her to wake Lorenzo. Lisa came in sleep-eyed as well. Here was our baby, ready to be born while we were all sleeping.

And literally, once we all rubbed the sleep out of our eyes, while I was laughing, Sabina was making her way out. Just like that. No pushing, just laughing. I did do one push just to move things along, but by 6:39a she was laying on my chest, warm and soft. I finally met the little girl who'd I'd been carrying around for close to a year. All the wondering and worrying, anticipation and preparation, it all ended in that moment, when I was holding this new little person in my arms.

And now, I am trying to relive those 7 hours, each of those important moments, the way one re-lives the experience of meeting their life partner for the first time. The exciting moment of realizing you have met the love of your life. And in my case, the third in a series of true loves.

Home Stretch

I can't believe how fast I've reached the 35th week of this pregnancy. Two more weeks and I will have hit full-term. Pregnancy is so strange. It lasts for almost a year so you have get used to it and live everyday without focusing on it. Then you hit the third trimester and you wish it would slow down while you simultaneously hold your breath for it to end.

It would be nice if I delivered a little early. I'm starting to get uncomfortable. Lots of abdominal pressure makes it hard to walk, hard to sleep/rollover, I can't wear shoes with laces anymore, tums sit next to the bed to nurse nightly heartburn, I've very tired and growing bored. I want to enjoy the summer, but it's getting hard to do much. And with these very hot days, if I'm outside I have to be in the shade and be sure not to get overheated. I can't really get out of town at this point, and hikes, bike rides and all the other active things I normally love to do, are pretty much out of the question. Plus I'm just so tired, did I mention that already?

Lorenzo is great at reminding me to slow down. In fact he reminded me that I need to be writing. I'm terrible at slowing down, but I really want to appreciate these last pregnant days. Our life plan doesn't include a number 3 which means this is it and I need to remember it and cherish it. I am one of the lucky women who handle pregnancy well. There are moments of discomfort, but overall, it comes easy. It makes me appreciate my body and feel happy that I've really tried to take care of it. It does however, still feel like work. If you haven't ever been pregnant, expect lots of changes and be ready for them. I have a hard time describing what it's like to be pregnant. It's so strange to watch your stomach moving in different directions, completely out of your control. And it's amazing that this little person is right there, just below the surface, growing inside of my body. She's a full baby, no longer a zygote or a multiplication of cells. She could be born tomorrow and she would be a little lady, fully formed, yet somehow she's still inside of my body, as a fully formed human, continuing to grow.

The biggest difference in this pregnancy is that I feel like I blend into the background more than with Luca. It sounds very needy to say this, but with Luca I felt like people were really looking out for me, protecting me and I liked it. Grocery store clerks always offered to help me out, people on the plane offered to put my bags in the overhead compartment, strangers went over of their way to let me go in front of them in line or to ask me about the pregnancy. None of that has happened this time. I think it might be because I forget that I'm pregnant and think that people don't think I look pregnant (funny now looking at that picture there's no mistaking it for a beer belly). It's just different. Lorenzo on the other hand is extremely protective of me, much more than he was with Luca. He is forcing me to sit down, he's doing everything around the house and reminding me not to work so much. He's been great, and to see how excited he is about this little girl's arrival, it's really sweet.

Pregnancy is a stepping stone, but being a mother of two, that's the real deal. The real test. Am I patient enough, wise enough, compassionate enough, loving enough to give my all to three other people? I believe I am. But like everything, I'll be challenged regularly in this new space. It's funny how you daydream about your life. I honestly didn't think I would become so domesticated, and Lorenzo, he never fit this profile. But here we are, about to complete our little nuclear family of 4, dog, house and car included. I struggle with that. But I am also so completely in love with Luca, he is so amazing, and I'm so proud of how Lorenzo and I have steered through these new waters together. Now I'm excited, scared, but excited about becoming a mother again. And then in a few months we'll work on breaking the domestication rules and we'll get adventurous again.

Second 1st Day of School

The anticipation was worse than the actual event. I was very sad thinking about Luca's first full-day of daycare. I knew he would love it and do fine, but what about me? Yes it was stressful to leave work to pick him up at 11:45, to make lunch, put him down for a nap and run out again when grandma came over. Or stress over the things I wasn't accomplishing on the days when we didn't have grandma's help. And in reality, I wasn't spending that much more time with him. But it's the idea. My little man is growing up and I can't slow things down. I've lost control.

I fantasize about the leisurely days we spent in Rome. Everyday as a family, we would spend an early hour walking in Villa Borghese. I would run in front of Luca's stroller to make him laugh, Jackie would play and chase dogs and Lorenzo and I would marvel at the beauty of the place. Lorenzo would drop me at work and then go home and spend the next few hours with Luca and Nonna until I got home and we spent the afternoon at the other park in our neighborhood, Villa Glori. We were so lucky. And once you've had it that good, it's hard to let it go.

I feel guilty that my kid is spending 7 hours at school. But really, it's only a matter of time right? He'll always be in school. It's not that I would keep him at home just to spend more time with him. He's building academic prowess, social skills and being potty trained. All steps in his embarking on elementary and then junior high, high school and beyond. And at each of those steps I'll be thinking about my little rascal. My little man who says a new word everyday in his little man voice. At each stage I'll remember Rome and how he changed from baby to little boy there and how much I loved that time with him.