Meditations on Mothering The Chief

From the persistent fog of my current, sleep deprived condition I have been craving to write, before I move too far away from this pivotal time, about the helpfulness of the tools that I gained from spending some serious time in meditation before Torin was born. (It’s only taken me seven weeks or so to get around to it….but I guess I have had other things to do.) I didn’t really realize at the time, but it was such a luxury to go so deeply into concentration during my last retreat. I think it was the last time that I will get much stillness of mind for many months. I got so sick of it at the time, but now I think back on it fondly. Isn’t that always the way?

I digress though. As I believe I have mentioned before, vipassana meditation retreats are deeply unpleasant, uncomfortable and quite a challenge, but so worthwhile. Labor is kind of like that, but magnified to the nth degree. And messier. I used the same tools though, that I had developed to get through unpleasant, uncomfortable, boring meditation sessions, to now get through those INCREDIBLY painful contractions that came to push him out into the world. I remembered that everything passes and changes, again and again, over and over. I tried to get outside of myself and observe my labors objectively. It really was helpful to manage the pain. And afterwards it really was helpful to hold onto those same lessons to ride out the incredible waves of intense emotion that came upon me in the first few weeks after his birth.

Another reason that I have been slow in writing this, is that I find it so hard to concentrate on a task like this these days. Throughout each day I am interrupted so many times by The Chief, and then a session of nursing, changing, soothing or amusing is in order, and when that job is through I don’t remember what it was that I was doing before. (It strikes me now that this is kind of like my life overall these days, in that I can’t quite imagine what I did with all my time before he came, and I also can’t quite imagine what I ever did without him.) At home though I am constantly finding evidence of my previously unfinished activities, like archeological remains of my morning, leaving clues for me to help me rediscover the narrative of my day. And then other tasks go undiscovered and slip my mind completely only to resurface days or weeks later, or perhaps not at all. (Sorry to any of you reading this that are perhaps waiting patiently for me to respond to something….I have forgotten.)

My mind works in these circles of distraction as well, which I notice most clearly when I am trying to meditate. It’s a success these days if I get a few minutes of concentration in during a 30 minute meditation session. As well, I spend much of my painting time rocking or nursing and looking at my half completed work, imagining what I would paint next if I could stop bouncing on the exercise ball with the fussy baby. It may take a few days before I actually get back to it. Slowly I plug along though!

So, those are some of the things that have changed. Now as I sit in a cabin in Big Sur where we have headed for our first family vacation with Torin, looking out at the Big Sur river flowing endlessly by under the redwoods, and as I sit here in my oh so distracted mind, in my ever changing life, I must just keep remembering that everything changes. I have to keep adjusting my goals, expectations and frequently change plans midstream. And I have to be good with all that, and for the most part I really am. Because The Chief is of primary concern. He is so precious, and every day, every week bring so many changes. So many new things that he can do, so many new articulations of who he is and who he will be. He as well is constantly changing. And the full force of my concentration is for the most part now focused on him. Just as during his birth all my energy went to his delivery to this world, and now many of the calories that I eat go to nourishing him and sating his hunger every couple of hours, also my concentration just naturally flows toward him and the protection and care of his tiny, helpless, (yet loud but incredibly cute,) little self.