Ivy Zequeira-Russell is a woman I admire and respect.  She is true to herself, her voice, her values, family and community. She is a dear friend and teacher to many, including her boys who she home schools.  These days she is also preparing to welcome Baby #3 who will be surrounded with lots of love and much hope.

I’m looking for things all the time.  “Mom, where’s my Lego magazine, my shoe, my baby, that little piece of paper I wrote on?”  Really I could go on.  So I look.  Often times, its right where we left it.  With a little searching much is found and peace is restored.  However, a few months ago things got really messy.  I wasn’t as available to find many things…not toys, keys, cell phones, clarity, joy, or hope.  You know, all the necessary things in life.

It started when I was 10 weeks pregnant with our third baby.  We have a 7 year old boy, a 3 year old boy, 2 cats, 3 chickens, we homeschool, I volunteer as a La Leche League Leader, and then my husband, Ben, broke his foot playing soccer.

Initially that broken foot helped me realize what a helpful, kind, and fully engaged partner I had in Ben.  His way of showing our family his love is primarily by being physically engaged, playing hide and seek, going on walks, running errands, helping with dishes, doing yard work, etc.  All of a sudden this loving person didn’t have his language available.  He felt so mute to me.  I missed sharing the life and rhythm we had created.

But then after 8 weeks, his foot didn’t seem to be healing.  That was 8 weeks of me doing all the cleaning, laundry, grocery shopping, potty runs, driving, taking the trash out, and getting up to attend to our 3 year old every time he needed a parent and I was pregnant.  Thoughts of my 20 year old single mom of three kids flashed through my mind.  I hated it.  I had so little space to grieve, empathize, and integrate these new meanings of my childhood.  I began to say things to my children that again reminded me of my life as a child.  I argued with Ben about how right I was to give the kids a piece of my mind.  I felt so justified.  The tears came from all of us.  I tried to talk to Ben about his healing when I felt I couldn’t handle it any longer and it always ended in an argument.  I felt he needed to do more, consult with another doctor, keep searching for help, just something!!

I cried the kind of cries that come from your gut and leave you wanting to vomit.  I was so stressed about stressing my little fetus.  I couldn’t believe that I was pregnant and in this mess.  I had planned, charted, and seduced to get pregnant!  I was so in control of it all.  How could this amazing pregnancy have become so overshadowed by the craziness?

So fuck looking for shoes, Legos, books, toys, or even food.  Find it yourself!  Then I’d cry, take a nap, and eat.  And luckily some semblance of the good enough mom reappeared.  The family survived.  They found food, played, visited friends, sang lots of Christmas carols, and little by little I joined in.  I gave up trying to understand what was happening to Ben’s foot, I simplified, kept simplifying, changed my expectations, and then I simplified some more, but after 4 months I wondered would his foot ever heal?  Would our relationship be restored after all the frustration and exhaustion?

Hope came in the form of wise women who looked at me straight in the eyes and said, “Its time for you to get help with the kids, housekeeping, cooking, and yard work.  Its time for you to pay attention to how much you’re giving to others and not taking care of your self.  Its time.”  I listened.  I especially had to listen to the baby inside of me.  And then I was able to take in the resilience of my boys.  My 7 year old was kind, creative, and began to tap into a very responsible part of himself.  My 3 year old was saved by the Christmas season and its wonder.  He sang loudly as he memorized his favorite Christmas carols, wrapped lots of presents of little things he made for baby and me, and he was always eager to do whatever I had energy to do.

Hope came all around me.  Not hope in Ben’s foot healing but hope in the moment. For right now, we’re okay.  It was a deep knowing that just as the bread and juice sustains and reminds me of all that’s come before and that I’ve endured, we will make it through the next few hours.

I’m slowly making sense of it.  Its in my mind, body, and soul.  This time hope found me because I sure didn’t have energy to look or care about it. It seemed to gently spring up and I began to notice its presence.