The day I became a mother
earlier than expected, earlier than hoped for....
We didn’t take any pictures. We didn’t think she’d want us to. So many times since then we’ve wished we had. Wished we could show her what happened, what she looked like. She had always disliked photos of herself so we thought we were respecting what she would have wanted. We thought we were caring for her during a time we were desperate to feel able to care for her. We didn’t realize how helpful it could have been for her to piece together months of her life she now can not recall. We didn’t realize how life altering those months would be.
I do have one though. I took it the first day I was there. I took it with my phone, holding it above my chest, a bird's eye view but just high enough to frame only our hands folding together. A hospital bracelet is around her wrist with tape on the back of her hand, holding a piece of cotton where a needle must have been for an IV. A paper bracelet with bright red stars is hanging loosely around my wrist, alerting hospital staff that I was a visitor. The only visitor allowed for the day under their very strict, very isolating COVID protocols.
A moment after I took the photo, a nurse walked in briskly. He was friendly, cheerful. His demeanor was reassuring while also annoying. How can he be so damn cheerful in a moment like this? He started rattling off information, asking questions and listing medications. I stood there, frozen, unable to form a response. “I….” I attempted as I looked around the room at all that wasn’t in the photo. The wires, like a halo around her head, the beeping screen with fluctuating numbers I didn’t understand, the crumpled white hospital sheets and my mom, propped up, agitatedly moving her left arm and leg while the other side of her body laid heavy against the bed. She was glancing around the room, a low scowl across her forehead with her look of, ‘this is some bullshit’ that I knew all too well. Or maybe she was scowling from the heavy gray Michigan winter glare streaming through the wide blind-less window looking over Pennsylvania Ave. It was February, damp and cold. The streets were filled with dirty half melted slush, the cars streaked with salt. These kinds of days always gave her a headache.
I tried to catch her eye. Mom? Are you in there? She was mute. She was never mute. She always spoke up for me, for herself, for and to anyone within earshot. She could rattle off personal and family history, birthdates, social security numbers, medications, thyroid levels and phone numbers as easily as she could recite the names of her siblings. I was not the adult in the room. I was not the holder of this information, of the answers. She was. I looked down at my protruding round basketball sized belly. For 5 months, I had been growing a little baby girl. Her first granddaughter.
My mind raced trying to make sense of the moment I found myself in. Wasn’t it only 15 hours earlier, I was home in Nashville, chatting with her on the phone for the 10th time that day, planning her visit for the following weekend? We were going to celebrate her 63rd birthday while decorating the baby’s room. She was excitedly telling me of all the newborn clothing she had just bought while out shopping. But twenty minutes after we hung up, my dad called. “Chaela. Your mom is in an ambulance, I think she’s having a stroke.” My husband Aaron almost immediately gathered my sopping wet maternity clothing from the washing machine, mid cycle and threw them into a trash bag. He put it in the back of our car, along with a few items for himself, and we drove through the night. I was at the hospital as soon as visiting hours opened.
The nurse was attempting to explain the location of the blood now resting on my mother’s brain. “These things just happen,” he said. “My mom has had multiple strokes, I know how hard this is.” Hemorrhagic, massive bleed, static seizures, MRIs, physical, occupational and speech therapy. Words I never knew I would grow so intimate with were flying at me in rapid succession. I looked back at the nurse. There was no one else. “Do you have a piece of paper and pen I can have to write everything down?” I didn’t know it at the time, but that day, 4 months and 12 days before I gave birth, was the day I became a mother.
One of my loftier goals in life is to write a memoir about my experience of my mother’s stroke happening when I was 5 months pregnant. The story doesn’t yet feel finished but I want to remember every detail of what happened. I’ve been jotting down memories but to be honest, it’s been an emotional undertaking I don’t always have the energy to touch, although I feel a deep need to do so. I slowly am starting to explore how to tell this story. Different vignettes, various memories, how to enter into the story as a whole. This is an essay I wrote from a prompt in a writing workshop I took from the incredible
.As always, thank you for being here. I often think about, and talk to my students about, the act of creating without the act of sharing what has been created. The sharing is such a vital aspect for me. Being received to then receive in return. Giving each other permission. Thank you for giving me permission and sharing your stories with me in return.
NEW SECTIONS
Part of this newsletter is to share what is going on in my professional/creative world as well as places/ways we can connect more. So from now on, I’ll be including in every newsletter, what’s coming up and what teaching opportunities I will be offering if you are interested in that. I’m also working on some offerings for my cherished paid subscribers! If you are a paid subscriber and have a wishlist of something you’d like to see, please message me or comment!
Performances coming up…..
Meadowgrass Festival in Colorado Springs, CO in just a few weeks!
Northeast house concert tour in June! Message me for dates and details if you are around Lancaster/Philadelphia, PA, Connecticut or upstate NY, but info coming soon.
Rocky Mountain Folks Festival and Song School in August!
announcement coming soon regarding a Northwest festival
Music coaching (Online)….
1:1 Songwriting Mentorship program: I am taking applications! If you are interested in having accountability in your life, learning new writing practices, deepening your craft and your access to your own creativity as well as generating more songs than you typically do, this is the type of program for you. You can apply here.
Private vocal technique, piano and beginner guitar lessons: I am classically trained in piano and have a degree in Vocal Performance as well as three published instructional books on Voice. I have a holistic approach to vocal coaching, working on the physical anatomical technique as well as the mind/body connection. You can apply here.
Two Part Songwriting workshop in June: For two Sundays in June, I’m offering a group songwriting workshop. While we discuss song form, tools for writing and write an actual song, we also explore our relationship to our creativity with the intent of gaining more access and freedom to write with real honesty. You can sign up here.
Currently reading….
What We Carry: A Memoir by Maya Shanbhag Lang
A memoir about taking care of an aging mother while become a mother yourself and revealing hidden aspects of family history. So far, it’s a deep exploration of the choices we make as women and mothers, how we judge ourselves or others, the deep beautiful bond between mothers and daughters, and the desperate desire to have your own mother care for you even when, or especially when you become a mother yourself. Obviously a story I can relate to. My mother in law gifted it to me for Christmas and I’m finally digging in.
Currently watching…
Nothing! Well that’s somewhat of a lie. I was watching Palm Royale on Apple TV for awhile. It stars Kristen Wiig, Ricky Martin, Laura Dern, Carol Burnett to name a few. I was enjoying it, especially because of the glamour and attire. My dad grew up going to Palm Beach to visit his grandmother and I am imagining his family in similar settings and outfits. But! I’ve started to limit my TV watching during the week because I have a habit of watching in bed until I fall asleep, which does not make me feel very rested! We’ll see how long this new habit lasts.