I took a walk yesterday with Bean. As we walked, I talked to her, describing and naming the visible things and the sounds. A woman walking her tiny dog approached from the opposite direction. As she neared us, she said, “You have the most loving, beautiful expression on your face.” How sweet! I stopped and chatted for a moment, introducing her to Bean. She oohed and aahed over Pixie, telling me how beautiful she is. After a couple of minutes of this, we wished each other a happy day and went on our way. That encounter added a sparkle to my day.<\/p>\n
Last night there were about 11 women gathered for the potluck. This was a group of mellow, warm women. I felt immediately at home. It was also really nice to talk with contemporaries who share similar growing-up reference points, and who could relate to the challenge of the mental shift required of older, independent women who become mothers for the first time.<\/p>\n
The interesting thing (to me) is how much cheering I received for getting myself out of the house to attend. It felt heartening. I’d even showered before I went, so I was, like, all put together<\/em> (or at least not stinky and covered in spilled milk). I received the requisite encouragement that the schedule starts to settle more around 3-4 months, and so on. We also got to share and compare birth war stories.<\/p>\n Oh! Another neat tidbit: one of the women at the potluck is someone I met in 2004, just after I moved here. She and I trained to be volunteer grief counselors in October\/November at The Centre for Living With Dying<\/a>. However, I didn’t continue after the training, as my father-in-law’s cancer had returned, and he was dying. I had my own living with dying to deal with and nothing to spare for another grieving person. Anyhow, I felt such pleasure running into her. I know I’m home when I finally begin running into acquaintances in ordinary places like the grocery store, other gatherings, and so on. In Austin it began to happen about three or four years after I arrived; until then, it was surreal sometimes to do ordinary life tasks but feel like a stranger moving through a foreign world. <\/p>\n I’m really glad I went. I got home around 10:00, and I’m so gonna need a nap. Regardless of how tired I am, I always become conscious at about 3:30 a.m. and try to relax back to sleep. Usually it’s a light doze, if that, until 5 a.m. when I decide it’s pointless and make coffee. I never used to wake up at 3 a.m. — instead, I was often awake at that time because I couldn’t fall asleep in the first place. Back then I could sleep until I was refreshed and woke naturally. Not anymore! What’s the saying? I’ll sleep when I’m dead<\/em> — or when I can catch a nap.<\/p>\n