I have so much to be happy about. A wonderful husband-t0-be (the man of my dreams, actually) and a healthy and happy little munchkin that I am free to spend all day, every day reveling in. I even have the home I've been dreaming about for years now: I can look out of my window from my bed and see a cherry tree by day and the moon by night...wonder of wonders after three years in a basement apartment. Not to mention the back deck with a spectacular view of the Vancouver North Shore mountains. And a fantastic family. I could keep going on. So why, some days, am I nagged by a free-floating anxious feeling?

Yesterday, I racked my brain trying to find the source of my anxiety. No, it wasn't the fact that my wonderful husband-to-be wrecked our car the day before. No, it wasn't my bathroom that hadn't been cleaned in over a week and wasn't slated to be tackled any time soon. I don't even think it was the uncertainty of my family's future looming before me. If my anxiety was tethered to anything (and only by a hair's-breadth filament), it was perhaps that I was trying to feed Eoin solids before the six-month green light, and he wasn't devouring the rice cereal with the relish I'd like to see, so was I a bad mother force-feeding my baby? Basically, lighten up Erin!

I had an epiphany. (Don't get excited.) If I could only get rid of this anxiety (a peculiar mix of dread and guilt) and be happy, life would be so much nicer! (I told you not to get excited.)

Obviously, I knew this before. I think, pre-Eoin, I was willing to except a higher level of melodrama in my life. Now, I just want to be happy. Firstly, because I have so much to be happy about. Secondly, because I blame much of my nursing woe on my anxiety - let's face it - terror, so I know how destructive it can be. But thirdly, and chiefly, I want to be happy for Eoin. I want to instill in him a sense of fun and humour. I want him to feel secure in his position in, and trajectory through, the universe. If I teach him anything at all, I want to teach him to be (sincerely) CHEERFUL. Because why the hell not?

I love it when Eoin holds my hand or the bottle when he is drinking as if performing a soulful saxophone solo.

Rumple, dumple, doople dot,
You say I'm tired but I'm not.

Rumple, dumple, ribber rap
I don't need to take a nap.

Rumple, dumple, tickle teal,
How about we make a deal?

Rumple, dumple, scoocher skoo,
I'll stay up and play with you.

There are a few things in life that, once we lose them, we can never get them back. Okay, maybe there are a lot of things. Such as the moment that just passed. And this moment too. But some things, some things...they don't let go their hold on you, even long after you have lost your hold on them. You find yourself caught, unable to move on, unable to forget what once was, unable to ignore what might have been.
Nursing Eoin is one of those things for me. Growing Eoin inside me was the truest, realest, most unequivocal experience of my life. I did it. I am his mother. I gave birth to him (with some surgical assistance, perhaps, but even so). I am his mother. Mothers nurse their babies. They nourish the life they created with their bodies, thereby continuing the process of creation that began in their bellies. But I can't nurse Eoin. But I am his mother. I am his mother. But I can't nurse him.
I did nurse him for a time! I really did. Everything was going wrong though. I met obstacle after obstacle, but I kept at it. The desire to nurse your baby is up there with the desire to live...if you can take another breath, you can keep going. At some undefinable point, however, something changed inside me. An insidious voice said, it's useless. It'll never work. It's the end of the rope now. And I stopped trying. Up until that point, I had been steadily working towards being able to breastfeed. I'd lost ground at times, but I'd always dug in, found traction, and grappled my way towards a happy nursing relationship with my baby. Then I stopped trying, and with that, I was slip-sliding away from that nursing relationship at break-neck speed. I tried again many times after that, but I never again got a toe-hold. It was over. It ended. I lost my chance, and I will never get it back.
There you have it. Loss' ugly twin is named Regret.
But I am Eoin's mother. Loss and Regret have a younger sibling, and his name is Moving On.

Today was my second Mothers Unfolding meeting at Pomegranate Midwives in East Van. We talked about having babies without grandparents, sisters, cousins, aunts, etc, around us. Is it "wrong" and "unnatural" to do it on our own? Being a mom is an ocean of responsibility which would be so much better navigable with familiar stars to keep us on course. Sure, I want someone to babysit, a place to go for Sunday dinner, a hand to help when I feel overwhelmed. But most of all, I want to be able to share Eoin with more people. I love him so much. His dad loves him too. I want more people to love him. I want people around to laugh at his antics, to kiss his baby folds, to smell his Burt's Bees diaper cream, to soothe his cries, to puzzle over his habits. I want him to be loved by a whole circle of people. I want him to grow up looking into the faces of those who see him as a special gift to their lives; an integral part of their own circle of people. I want to share Eoin. He is the most wonderful thing I've ever known. Nudge, nudge. See his wonder with me.