Tag Archives: mom

Atticus Arrives

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967896_10104965202870509_452403013_n My son arrived about 36 hours ago. He is healthy, beautiful, and strong. I’m thankful and awed. A few hours after he came, I posted the following image and words: 10454386_10104960823950899_6612423471633883460_n “I nominate Atticus Garrett Ballou to eventually take awesome color pictures, or paint wonders, or write down glories, or sing high praises, or dream strange dreams, or tread with golden feet on far flung vistas, or wheel through the galaxy on spatiotemporal-controlling power… Or at the very least to act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly. 11/29/14, 3:01am”

My friend Frank (a great educator and thoughtful dad himself) commented, “With a name like Atticus, how can he help it?”

Well, here’s hoping that when my son reads about his namesake he will feel empowered. That we, as his parents, will believe that we’ve done something to impart the thread of grace and understanding that makes Atticus a worthy name to hold.

With a name like Atticus, how can we help it?

~

In the hours that have passed, I’ve had the chance to reflect on the epic person my wife is. I’ve now watched her through two pregnancies and one adoption (processes that are surprisingly equivalent and strenuous, believe me). She is someone who exudes a quality of character and force of will I’ve never had the chance to really know in anyone else. When Miranda was born, I got to see Alison’s movement through labor and delivery with eyes of terror and amazement. This weekend, however, I got to be a calmer, more aware viewer. I was much more keyed into what she needed and what she was doing. Seeing her come into full alignment with her body and her second-by-second progression through the final hours of pregnancy was inspirational. Screen Shot 2014-11-30 at 10.52.29 PMAbove Left: Alison just toward the end of heavy labor, around 2am, less than an hour before Atticus was born. I was putting counter-pressure on her lower back and calling out the peaks and troughs of each contraction. Above Right: Alison, exhausted but calm, less than 5 minutes after giving birth. Often during labor she looked like this; totally within herself and focused on the event.

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 …and just a minute or so later, Atticus got that precious skin-to-skin contact with his momma.

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I was pleased to get some wonderful down time with the two of them after the delivery. We were, I think, able to enjoy that first day in a way we were too blown away to when we had Miranda or came home with CaiQun. Something tells me that ease will be a hallmark of our experience of Atticus. He’s such a relaxed yet alert baby. I think those qualities are something we are all hoping to manifest.

~

I got to draw a portrait of him in the early hours today. I love this first little document of looking at my boy. I hope you do, too.

~

Last, but not least, here are those new big sisters. They’re enjoying (and being generally confused by) their new baby brother. Glory. Thanksgiving.

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She Knows What She’s Doing…

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…even though I usually don’t. There’s a lot behind that sentiment, a lot of innate ability and hard-won skill. And there’s grace and faith working in her – so much going on beyond the surface. I’m so thankful for this woman. To think that on this very day 6 months ago we were standing in a government office in China and meeting CaiQun for the first time. In that 6 months Alison has fully become mom to two. In spite of all of my failings, she makes this family run.

 

Hanging At My Mother-In-Law’s House

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My wife and I have been married nearly 10 years now, and over that time we have spent most of our holidays and vacation time with her mom (between distance and financial constraints it’s been harder to get back to my family, though we have gotten better at seeing them more frequently in recent years). We’ve just come to expect heading up along routes 70 and 55, taking that slight left onto 39, passing the amazing windmill fields, then hitting route 43 and closing in on the Milwaukee suburbs.

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Above: A shot of some windmills at the Mendota Hills Wind Farm along interstate 39 in northern Illinois.

Ah, going to Momm’s (we add an ‘m’ to signify the difference between my mom and my wife’s mom). There’s food and beer and entertainment; she’s the type of mom who likes to provide all of these things. It would be realistic to say that I look forward to these visits to my Momm’s simply because I don’t have to be in charge, or have to be anywhere, or put on real pants during the day. Did I mention the free food? And the free Wisconsin beer? Yes.

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Above: Momm’s cat Keegan is in the Christmas tree…

But hanging at Momm’s doesn’t just come down to getting to relax and drink beer and watch football. I think the best part since Miranda was born has been seeing her (Miranda) fall in love with her Grandma and “The Uncles” during the holidays. The sort of intentional play and interaction we try to maintain with her all the time is exactly what they do for her there. Playing with blocks, reading books, putting puzzles together, letting her commandeer their phones to watch cat videos or “Whip My Hair”; they do it all. And beyond all of this, Grandma instantly becomes the go-to bathroom escort for little miss Miranda Grace, which really does free up time for Alison and I. Grandma seems to love it, though.

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Above: Miranda learning some geography with her Mom and Grandma.

I think that the thing I get the most out of, however, is getting to do a few minor jobs around the house. Over the years I’ve gotten the chance to do a few different things. Hanging some pictures here and there. Putting up a gate. Snow blowing or shoveling. Refurbishing the garage door opener. Rehanging the blinds and putting in new curtain hardware. Installing doors. Fixing base plates for the screen door. Painting a few rooms. Doing dishes. That’s how I tell Momm that I love her and appreciate getting some time off to drink beer and watch football. And wear sweatpants all day long.

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Above: One of my favorite tidbits at Momm’s house – a Pacific Northwest Native American style whale. Acrylic on linen, 16 by 16 inches.

Some highlights of this last trip were Momm playing Kinect games… getting Thai food with her good friends from MN… watching one of her favorite movies (House of D) with her… talking Packer football… discovering an amazing book of poetry (I still have it with me, Momm).

Here’s to many more memories! Love Love!

My Moms

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On Mother’s Day, 2010

One of the most precious things to me is the gentle, loving, intimate voice of a mother in communication with her child. This voice is sometimes audible, sometimes unheard by anyone else, sometimes not even heard by the child. Sometimes it’s a voice of words, sometimes one of deeds. It is a form of communication that speaks as much to the mother as it does to the child. It is a mysterious speech, a multilayered kind of intonation that expresses love and hope and encouragement.

Right now I’m sitting 20 feet away from my wife, Alison, and our first child, Miranda. Her birth just 10 days ago was amazingly wonderful. Yet perhaps it was not the most amazing transmutation that occurred. You see, many times before giving birth, Alison would write to Miranda, speak to her, sing to her, hum to her. In these things Alison was experiencing a transformation into mom-ness. The state of being motherly, of extending unconditional love, of earnest, joyful support for that child, was becoming manifest in her character and nature. Yes, she was always wonderful with children; now she was becoming a mom.

I remember a few weeks early on in her pregnancy when Alison started to really inhabit her mom-ness. What happened was that for several weeks, during the early morning hours between 4 and 5 am, Alison – totally asleep – would sing to her unborn child. Well, sing isn’t really the right word. It was sing-humming, a kind of spontaneous melody of pure joy. It was involuntary – she was not conscious of it when I told her about it later. Yet there she was, serenading her child weeks before she would feel her, months before she could hold her. She was becoming a mom, then and there. It was beautiful. I think it was a powerfully important thing as well: a song for growing, for knitting, for becoming. Miranda needed it, and Alison could sing it. As the only conscious witness to that sweet concert, I hope I never forget that sound.

Alison and Miranda sleeping

Thinking about this reminds me of the other mothers close to me in my life – my own mom and Alison’s mom. They’ve got their own mother powers, too.

When I was a child I was desperate for my mom’s touch before sleep. Once put down, if I awoke I would cry and cry… less from fears or needs, but rather in order to bring her to me, to have her put her hand on my back again. I wanted to have that hand lull me back to sleep with its warm, rhythmic, safe motion. My understanding is that this specific mode of soothing was a constant desire of mine; sometimes my mom would resort to placing a warm water bottle on me in place of her hand just so she could get something done in the evenings. But I love that she came again and again, sitting next to me and bringing that touch that only a mom knows how to do. This was just one of the many, many ways my mom exhibited her mom-ness toward me, built me up, gave me what only she could give.

My mom as a young woman – about my age now, I think…

My mom-in-law, Kathy, also does something only a mom can do. Well, others can do it and are supposed to, but moms do it best: selflessness. When her children are in the midst of their work, projects, fears, triumphs, and lives in general, there she’ll be, selflessly being supportive, giving of her time and energy with no thought of return. On countless occasions over the years that I’ve known her and seen her with her kids, I’ve witnessed her aid come to them. That aid took on many forms, from helping with studying or editing lengthy papers to nursing them through sickness or helping them move, these kids knew they could count on her. In a world where so many people are out for themselves, she’s rejected all selfishness, seeing her support for and encouragement of her kids as vital and necessary. And it’s totally appropriate that she exhibits that giving character so fully – there’s no support, no love, no aid like what comes from a mom.

Mom Schwei with Miranda

So today I think of all of this, and am overjoyed. I thank God for it… and there again is Alison in the other room, speaking to Miranda with a mother nature uniquely her own. I am so thankful for this goddess-voice in my wife, for the goddess-touch in my mom’s warm hand resting on my back all those times, and for the goddess-sensitivity my mother-in-law’s selflessness and constancy. Thanks Mom Bourgeois, Mom Schwei, and new Mom Ballou – I love each of you.