marriage and divorce

At times, I am reminded that marriage is such a leap of faith. I read things like this tidbit in the Star Tribune, written by the relationship reporter, Gail Rosenblum:

For years, I've covered the unmistakable churnings and changes in the American family -- from nuclear to blended, from closed to open to international adoptions, interfaith and intercultural marriage, paternity leave and at-home dads, grandparents raising grandchildren, adult children parenting their parents, GenXers opting out of legal unions, gay couples trying to opt in, and the remarkable reality of 70-, even 80-year wedding anniversaries.

All of it fascinated me. None of it affected me personally, or so I thought. The noise under our own roof began years ago, a low rumble we ignored effectively. Kids keep couples busy. Jobs keep couples busy. Societal and familial pressures keep couples busy, and married, too. But as building-better-marriage books and, later, books about a new kind of divorce calling for collaboration and co-parenting crossed my desk for review, I read them in a different light.

As our children grew older and the rumble grew to a roar, we panicked and leaped into a painful and painstaking search for answers to so many questions. Did we just suffer from lousy communication? Was our struggle acute and temporary, or chronic? As one therapist suggested, "Has the milk been out too long?" With no affairs, abuse or addiction to report, did we expect too much? Yet, how long can two good people run on emotional empty before somebody tries to fill up elsewhere? And what about our precious children?

Those who charge that couples like us take marriage vows too lightly, especially when kids are involved, are dead wrong. The reality of stepping out, of handing back the dream and, most horribly, destroying our children, threatened to undo us many times. In the end, we decided that staying was riskier than leaving. So we moved slowly forward, always with an eye on our kids.

And then, last week, this, from the new book by Krista Tippett, host of NPR's Speaking of Faith:

Sometimes I have had a feeling — and I had this in my marriage to Michael — that God throws out the occasional wild card, almost a dare — try this if you will; I will bless it; it is rich with possibility; it will not be easy. And in the case of my marriage, Michael and I failed to carry it through to the end. We lost the dare. That might sound like I experience my marriage as a mistake, and that is most definitely not the case. Our amazing children are the best proof of the blessing, of the real sacrament, that grew from our marriage.
...
I am now divorced, a word I never thought would apply to me. I did not go into my marriage lightly, and it ended only after years of struggle to repair the brokenness between us. It ended with the end of hope, I suppose, and a conviction that God would not require me to live permanently with disrepair at the center of my life. These years onward, Michael and I have learned to honor and love each other practically as parents to our children.

Reading these experiences by two different women, I can't help wondering: What is it that makes or breaks a marriage? Why did these women's marriages break apart when people like my parents, who have certainly faced their share of hardships, are still together and going strong? I am sure few people ever enter marriage lightly, expecting it to end in divorce. Yet we all know the statistics. And sometimes, the people who end up getting divorced surprise me. A reporter I used to work with in Mississippi had what I imagined to be the perfect marriage, so I was shocked, totally, when I heard they had split. But we cannot know what goes on under the surface. Marriage works in mysterious ways.

For some couples, the culprit is something obvious, like money or religion or sex or addiction or adultry. Some say they are no longer "in love." (Though doesn't the nature of love change over time, and don't we learn that love is also an action?) Some say they grow apart, interests and outlooks diverging until there is no glue left to hold them together. For others, it seems, it is something insidious that lurks beneath the surface for years until it's too late. Gail Rosenblum described it as a "low rumble" that she and her husband were able to ignore. Krista Tippett described it as a sort of "brokenness." I wonder if the seeds of the disrepair began as something so small that they didn't even notice until the seeds took root and grew into something uglier, like the weedy plants that try to worm their way up through our patio cracks every year.

I am really happy with the marriage that Stephen and I have built over the past four years. I think it rests on strong foundations. But we aren't relationship experts, and we aren't saints — and we aren't perfect. Occasionally we disagree, we argue, we accidentally hurt each other's feelings. We make up and talk through it, although sometimes it takes me a few days — several levels of making up — to fully heal and feel like we are back to normal. (I am writing from such a place, though we are mostly back to fine.) And whenever I read accounts like these, it scares me a little. It gets me (over)analyzing the things that occasionally disrupt the good mood of our marriage and wondering if we will look back on them later as the seeds of something larger. Yet I have to remember: My parents argue, too, and every couple has their unique share of conflicts, and the relationship experts say it's how we work out the conflicts that sets the tone of our marriage as much as anything else.

Having a baby requires us to be even more intentional about our relationship, too. It's so easy to fall into our roles as parenting partners and let our other roles — friend, lover, husband, wife, supporter, movie date — take the back seat. It's a balancing act, an adjustment, that Stephen and I are still figuring out as we go along, still early in this journey of parenthood. In that respect, I can see, as Gail Rosenblum points out, how a couple with several children could get along for years without nurturing their marriage and not notice it cracking at the seams.

Of course, I share these stories with Stephen, too, and we talk about them and agree that it's essential to nurture our relationship (even if it means leaving Daniel with babysitters at the height of his stranger anxiety — so hard!) and address any potential "termites" in our marriage before they chew up the foundation. And I think we do a good job of managing conflicts as they arise — baby and all. And yet, and yet ... we are only human, and this thing called marriage seems like such a mystery sometimes — I love the way Krista Tippett describes it as a dare from God. Such a leap of faith, requiring much optimism and not to be taken for granted.

bittersweet

Tonight while I was driving to ballet, a Paul Simon song came on the radio — one that makes me really nostaglic (Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard ... don't ask) — and for some strange reason it connected to my thoughts about how soon I probably won't be breastfeeding Daniel for much longer, and I started to cry.

We're already on the way. For the past month, it turns out that I've been weaning him, slowly and gradually, without much of a plan or intention, and today I didn't breastfeed him at all. My breasts hardly seem to notice — they're not leaking or hurting or anything. Maybe it's because I haven't stopped cold-turkey. The last holdout seems to be at night, when he wakes up next to me, and the easiest thing to do is to nurse him. I hope that will last for a long time. I hope my milk will stay, at least during the nighttime.

It started after what must have been his six-month growth spurt, when it became obvious that he wasn't getting enough to eat from me anymore. I'd feed him, but he'd still cry and seem hungry, particularly in the evenings. We thought, let's try a bottle of formula, just one, at night before he goes to bed. And Daniel was so grateful. The first time we filled a four-ounce bottle with formula, he sucked it down in a matter of minutes and stayed in a smiley mood until he went to bed. Pretty soon, it became the random bottle here and there — at church, at the mall. I thought I'd just try to pump more and force my supply to keep up or get bigger. But I was so busy this month that I let the pumping slide. Breastfeed less, and the body makes less milk. As it turns out, mixing a bottle of formula is so much easier than pumping. So it got to the point where it was my breastmilk supplementing the formula instead of the other way around. And today ... well, the only time I tried to breastfeed him, he wasn't hungry and just bit me.

Mostly, I'm OK with where this is going. I think I'm ready to make the transition, and I'm glad I've been able to take my time and ease off from it slowly. Breastfeeding is hard work sometimes, and physically demanding: My body has ached in the past eight months like never before. Weaning Daniel now means Stephen and I can try for another baby if we want. And even if that doesn't work out, I do look forward to going out and buying some sexy bras again! I am happy to have nursed for as long as I have; I never had a goal of one year or "until he weans himself," like some mothers do — which is admirable, but not my desire. In the back of my mind, I imagined I'd feel good if I could nurse Daniel for six months. I think he's received many benefits from being breastfed this long, and being on formula isn't going to change that.

What does hurt is that this is the first "letting go" I've had to face with my sweet, growing son. The images I have of looking down at his peaceful face, his busy mouth as I feed him, are etched on my heart. I remember the first time he latched on in the hospital — how he rooted around so purposefully until he found what he was looking for and went to town, the perfect little sucker. It's hard to imagine putting all that behind me. It is one of the most exquisite and intimate bonds I have ever known. And now I am teary-eyed again as I write this. (Do hormones run amok when a woman stops nursing?) Part of me wonders if I should pull out the pump and try to build back my milk supply, to go back to the way things were. I don't know if that's the answer. Maybe I just need to feel the sadness and be present to it. Another part of me would like to find some meaningful ritual that will help me honor and say goodbye to this part of our relationship. Do other women do that? I'd like to know. All I know for sure is that I will continue to cherish these nighttime feedings for as long as they last.

eight months old

I think he looks more and more like a little boy every day. You can see one of his teeth pretty clearly here and the other one next to it if you look closely.

daniel visits the north shore

We spent the weekend at the Cove Point Lodge, which is our favorite place to stay on the North Shore. We stayed there on our first trip together, the weekend after Sept. 11. The plan had been to go to Montreal, but of course all flights were grounded, so we drove up north instead. These trips never fail to be peaceful and restorative, and this weekend was no exception, despite some rain — and not a lot of sleep Friday night. Daniel broke a second tooth over the weekend, and he had some cranky moments. He was a good traveler, though, and even managed to entertain himself in restaurant high chairs long enough for us to have some good meals (and a slice from Betty's Pies!). And it was just so incredible to pause for moments here and there to absorb the feeling of sharing this beloved place with Daniel for the first time.

Every room at Cove Point faces Lake Superior. Here's the view from the bed:



Here's the cove itself, with the point in the distance:



The harbor in Duluth was full of ice chunks that blow off the lake, creating kind of a surreal look, like when you see the Great Salt Lake for the first time.




Duluth had a gallery crawl going on this weekeend, so we spent a rainy Saturday looking at paintings and photographs and sculptures by local artists.

saturday at the park

I feel like I've turned into one of those mothers who shows picture after picture of her baby to all who will look! I guess that's my prerogative here, since this is my blog (preblogative?!), but still. I was watching Notes From the Underbelly Thursday night, and there was a scene where the main character and her divorce-lawyer friend talk about how, after their friends have babies, all they talk about is head measurement percentiles and tummy time. I half-smiled, half-cringed. They could have added bowel movements, sleep patterns and nursing bras. I've never been caught pumping in a dressing room, but I have used the occasion to nurse Daniel, hoping to squeeze another 10 minutes of shopping out of our trip to Banana Republic. And the bit about hideous maternity underwear? Huh ... I still wear mine from time to time. They're so comfortable.

because prayers can only help

Please send your best to our friend Barb and her mother, Millie, who has emphysema and now pneumonia and may leave this world in a short time. Barb has been extraordinarily strong as she walks with her mom through this final journey, but I know she would feel shored up by your prayers in whatever form they take. You can follow Millie's progress on this Caring Bridge Web site that Barb set up. God bless you, Barb, George and Millie.

Edited April 15 to update: Sadly, Barb's mom died last night. Stephen and I are both so sorry for your loss, Barbara.

friday five :: when money's tight ...

Ever since I stopped earning a salary, we've been getting creative in how we spend what does come in. So when I saw this on Kristine's blog, I thought it was pretty fitting.

When money’s a bit tight, how do you cut costs in keeping yourself fed?
We don't go out to eat; I cook from scratch, and I try to avoid the "gourmet" groceries.

When money’s a bit tight, how do you cut costs in keeping yourself entertained?
We go to places that are free, like the art museum and library, and we take long walks. Netflix is pretty cheap, too.

When money’s a bit tight, how do you cut costs in other areas of your life?
We stick to a budget, so we pretty much know how much to expect coming in from month to month. That said, when planning the budget, we cut back on line items such as vacations and home improvements. That way, if any extra money does come in (from a tax refund, say), we can put it back in. Also, we cancelled most of our newspaper subscriptions for now, and I switched to a cheaper cell phone plan. And I have discovered that you can find really cute clothes at Target!

When money’s a bit tight, what do you do to keep your spirits up?
Sometimes, just clearing out clutter fom our house feels good. It reminds us that we really have so much already. And there's nothing like a long walk in the neighborhood with a stop at the coffee shop, which reminds us that we don't need to spend a lot of money to have a great time together.

When money’s a bit tight, what are some things you refuse to sacrifice?
Organic food and the Sunday NY Times. My, we sound like yuppies. :)

welcome, baby keifer!

My friend Carrie, who got pregnant last summer via an egg donor (after years of trying), had her baby this week! She gave birth to Keifer Lynn on Tuesday, April 10, more than a week past her due date. As a Tuesday's Child myself, I think Keifer picked a good day to be born. Congratulation, Carrie and Chris!

And get this: She was born via c-section at 5:03 p.m. and weighed 8 pounds, 10 ounces, and measured 21 inches. Sound familiar?

easter baby

And no, he will not be eating the candy (or the paper grass, though he tried). It is Daniel's Easter basket in name only. His father has proprietary rights (which is why the basket also contains salt-and-pepper flavored Kettle chips).

Here he is in his Easter outfit, looking like a little golfer, which Steve said is appropriate in light of the Master's golf tournament going on today ... not that I would know something like that. :)

random saturday thoughts

It's very cold in Minnesota. The bright and shiny sun belies the fact that it's in the 20s with wind chills in the low teens. I am wishing for Portland, where it has been in the 70s.

I can't wait for our trip to California in a month. We have it all planned out now. Flying into San Francisco, two nights in Sonoma (where we are going to a wedding), a night with my aunt outside of San Francisco, two more in Carmel, one in San Simeon (where Hearst Castle is), and the final two in Santa Monica, flying home from LA. It's going to be a great adventure!

I led an evening prayer/vespers service for the first time this week, which included giving a little reflection on a Gospel reading. It was a lovely, half-hour service we've been doing every Tuesday in Lent, and I hope we continue it after Easter. I've attended a few of them; they are such a peaceful step out of time and a chance to center oneself at the end of a busy day. I enjoyed leading it. The white alb, the opportunity to do something resembling a homily ... it was a tiny little taste of what it might be like to be a priest, though of course that will never happen for Catholic women in our time. It also provides a small glimpse of what monastic life might be like, where they pray together not only every evening but several times a day. I think that would be a wonderful practice.

Daniel seems to be getting bigger and stronger and smarter every day ... there's so much for him to discover in the smallest things I take for granted, and he explores everything with gusto. I carried him in the Ergo while I was grocery shopping this week, and he was fascinated by the rows and rows of apples and oranges. He would lean down to touch them, and I didn't have the heart to pull him away. Let that be a reminder to wash all your produce thoroughly before eating it!

We got together with my friend Lisa on Thursday. She has a 4-year-old son, and it was fun to watch him and imagine what Daniel will be like in a few years. He's bursting with energy and life ... he pushed his little plastic car around on the muddy paths (and sometimes sat in it and "drove" it with his feet, Flintstones-style) in the woods near their home while Lisa and I (with Daniel) walked behind him. The cold air didn't seem to bother him one bit! I hope Daniel will have that sense of adventure and fearlessness as he grows up.

I think I am going to make hot cross buns for Easter. That's the reason I am online this morning in the first place — to find a good breadmaker recipe.

Today's main goal (now complete) was to clean our living room windows. Why? Because on Monday, the people from J.C. Penney are coming over to install our new blinds! Yes, it's time to say goodbye to the heavy, white drapes that have been in this house since before we moved in. They are the drapes we love to hate. I have been cursing them for years, so it was particularly funny that when my mom was in town for Daniel's baptism, we were sitting at the dinner table and she said, "Emilie, I just love these drapes!" Steve and I burst into laughter, and my poor mom had no idea why. We're replacing them with some simple honeycomb blinds that are a shade of light gold-beige that's just a little darker than our walls. It goes nicely with the wood that frames the windows (which could stand to be refinished, but that's another project), and I think the simpler look with the exposed wood will be really nice for those rooms. I hope so, anyway!

on good friday

I went to a beautiful tenebrae service tonight with my friend Roxy at a church in downtown St. Paul. (Our husbands stayed home to babysit.) These services are so powerful and haunting. Little by little, through the readings and hymns and prayers, the lights were extinguished, and as the final candle was carried out, there was the sound of a rumbling, thunderous earthquake. We sat in that noise, in complete darkness, and I felt so small and desolate and moved to tears.

As a new mother, imagining Mary's pain as she watched Jesus die strikes a chord with me this year as it never has before. One of the readings tonight was from a burial ode attributed to St. John of Damascus. I can't find it online, or I would have printed part of it here. It spoke of how Mary once held the infant Jesus close to her as she rocked him to sleep, and how now she held his lifeless body close to her. I had tears in my eyes when it was over, and Roxy turned to me and we mouthed to each other, "So sad."

It is the second time this week that I have had this kind of sadness on my mind. A couple of nights ago, I dreamed that I lost Daniel. He was playing with another little boy, and they disappeared, and no one could tell me where they were. We ran around frantically looking for them. In the dream, my emotions were so strong as I faced the possibility of never again seeing his sweet, beautiful smile, never again holding him in my arms. That anguished sense of loss was the most powerful part of the dream. At some point, people were telling me we needed to start planning the funeral. On an impulse, I walked down a hill toward a big lake, and the girl with me said she noticed some strange bubbles in one section. I looked, and there, lying at the bottom of the clear lake were Daniel and the other boy. I could see his little blue and green Robeez so clearly. At first I thought they must have been dead, but then I thought the bubbles might be signs that they were still alive. As I prepared to jump in and pull them out of the water, my mind (now waking up) was determined to believe that they were alive. They had to be. Still, I woke up and stared at the outline of Daniel's sleeping body for a long time, tears coming out of my eyes, and I wasn't so cranky when he woke us up later, crying to be fed.

So with that, on this Good Friday, my heart goes out especially to all women who have lost sons.

hot stuff

Daniel Craig: He's got this whole Steve McQueen thing going on. I haven't seen the new James Bond movie yet, but we saw him in another movie this week (Layer Cake) ... and oh my lord, is he sexy.




The new Montana quarter: It's strong and powerful and one of my favorite state quarters, based entirely on a visceral reaction I can't describe. Steve handed it to me the other day while we were at Caribou, and the first words out of my mouth were, "Ooh, that's hot!" He said, "Well, maybe you and your quarter and Daniel Craig should go get a room."