1 in a Million (literally): Next to Normal...

In my former life - the one where I shared an idiosyncratic house with 3 other women (2 of whom I enjoyed), my biggest concern was a paper on Wagner and my dog's grooming schedule, and I freely came and went with the whims of a New England wind - I had disposable income I could devote to seeing musicals actually on Broadway. On one such occasion, a dear friend, Sarah Leer, came from Chicago to spend time with me and we decided to see Alice Ripley in the role that would win her a Tony. The musical, "Next to Normal," is about a family dealing with the fallout of a mother who struggles with Bipolar Disorder, with psychotic features. This family struggles to achieve a homeostasis - something that was just "next to normal."

I feel like that is what I am doing right now... just looking for a routine and standard for my current life that is just next to normal.

Sleep is completely different... It comes in patches... and my day becomes a quilt wherein I try to assimilate times of high productivity, meeting others' needs, meeting my own needs, preparing for school or other future endeavors and resting in as seamless a manner as possible. Typically, the sleep is that oh so beautiful cloth that is sparsely repeated in a quilting pattern, but never prominent enough to become the base of the whole thing...

My body is completely different... It is in patches. There are my arms, which have reverted to a "fluffy" status, as weight lifting took a back seat around week 33 of pregnancy. My abdomen is a patchwork quilt of the natural marks of what I've gone through (stretch marks) and the artificial reminders of my devastation (the C Section scar). Because I am breastfeeding, I have not been able to go back on the medications which regulate my body, so losing weight is futile for at least another 2 months... the well meaning doctor told me this week that I should be proud of my "pooch" because I am a mommy now... not comforting. My body is still not my own - my child and my hormonal irregularities seem to own my body right now. I think this particular domain is the furthest from even being close to normal.

My social life is completely different... I socialize in patches. Usually, I am able to initiate a phone call or text message conversation, but very rarely am I able to see it through to the end. I have people over, but very rarely can make my way out to them. My social interactions seem disjointed and irregular... nothing like my normal...

Our marriage is completely different... Our time management and discussions are completely different... the set up in my car is completely different... the set up in my home is completely different... my eating patterns are completely different... my priorities are completely different... my dog's patterns are completely different... it's all so completely different.

I will not lie and sugar coat and say that acclimating to these changes is easy. I am a stubborn women who had a grand plan that was changed. Changing to meet demands that change on a seemingly hourly basis is not what I had planned for this time in my life.

I will say, however, that this little boy is the only thing for which I can imagine changing. Even after the most sleepless night, his morning smiles are more than substantial repayment. His laugh is medicinal. His cuddles are miraculous. His whimpers are endearing.

His inability to care for himself calls to a deep part of my heart that has never been alive before. While I am utterly exhausted and feel on the brink of my own sanity regularly as I attempt to balance motherhood, work, and life with my (still-relatively-new) husband, I never resent his need or requests for a diaper change or extra feeding. This new role has taught me for the first time what selflessness truly is... what a pure love truly is.

I am looking forward to things settling down eventually. However, what I know of lifespan development and what I've observed in others' lives tells me that the first year of life, when things change predictably and quickly, is not the time to expect that sort of settling sensation. I am learning as I go and rolling with changes - I've got my cloth diapering rhythm established, an eat-wake-giggle-swaddle-sleep rhythm established, an exercise rhythm beginning to emerge, and other elements of a next to normalcy beginning to occur.

Until I can reach a state of normal... or even next to normal... I am just going to keep holding this little boy as long as he'll let me. If things can't be next to normal, at least they can be worthy of the irregularity I am enduring.

... and he is...