Lesson Learned

One of the weirdest phrases I heard in my writing class was, "creative nonfiction." What does that even mean? I was at a loss for words. I had no idea how I supposed to get creative without being false or bending the truth. Had I been a reader of Real Simple magazine when taking the class, I would have known exactly what my professor meant. In each issue they have a section called "Life Lessons". I learn the strangest, saddest, and sometimes simple things when I read that section. This is creative nonfiction. These writers just seem to know how to paint a story without brushing over the truth.

So here goes, if I were to actually submit a piece for an essay contest about understanding the meaning of love it might go something like this:

My mother always used to say that I would never understand how much she loved me until I had a child of my own. There's no way that could be true. There were so many ways that my mother showed me love: supporting my talents by attending choir concerts, always being a listening ear, staying up with me to finish that forgotten term paper, always finding time to teach me valuable life lessons as she transitioned into grandmother-hood while I was still only eight. As I grew up with a matriarch overflowing with positive words and love, I never thought it would take me until I had my first child that I would truly understand. As I groggily woke up to feed my crying baby, carefully prepared his food, happily changed his diaper or enjoyed his coos and giggles I was reminded of all the loving attention given to me by my own mother as her youngest.

Due to medical complications, I didn't get to spend an entire week with my newborn and had to leave my son in the care of my mother. She was much older now, and physically less prepared to repeat the routine of a newborn baby. I ached to be out of my hospital bed and be home with my husband and son, but I knew that my son was more than competently cared for, perhaps even more so than by a brand new mommy like me. I knew that my son would be loved and given the attention that I would have given him myself.

My mom with my son

When I was finally discharged from the hospital, I still couldn't hold my son and walk at the same time thus the nighttime responsibilities again fell to my mother. It was after I had regained strength in my leg that I profusely thanked my mom for caring for my boy. She gushed about how much she loved being up with him in the middle of the night and not being sore or too tired (like having her own seven children felt). What I imagine she was trying to say, "You won't understand how much I love you until you have a child of your own." I wouldn't have done any different had it been my grown son and his family in need of service and I an older woman in her latter years. She managed to show me how much she could love her grandson and through this selfless act, I know what unconditional love truly is.

So mom, if you happen to read this I love you for all that you have ever done and still do for me!

~Lady Jane

My Son

As Mother's Day approaches I reflect on the little miracle that made me a mom. I love my little boy and I thank Heaven that he came to me! Ever since he was born I felt like I was taking on a huge challenge to raise one amazing little man. Having received my Bachelors degree in teaching before F was born, I thought of all the wonderful things I could teach him as he grew. Little did I know, he has taught me more than I ever thought possible.

Minutes old

Days old

Month old

Six months old

He has taught me to love. I love him beyond description. When I found out that I was pregnant, people asked me "If you could choose the gender, what would you have?" Every time I replied, "Boy!" I don't know why even but as soon as we found out that little F was going to join our family, I felt blessed. I was going to raise a son of God and teach him how to be a good man like his daddy.

He has taught me to reflect. Because of him, I have appreciated the sound of a bird chirping and leaves blowing in the wind and the rain. All these things are new to this little person and he is helping me remember these simple pleasures.

He has taught me to be patient. There are those days, that every parent has, where fuses are short but they lengthen over time because my son reminds me what is really important. So what if we're a little late for an appointment somewhere because he wanted to learn how to climb into his car seat? So what if we don't make it to the grocery store today if we get to nurture our relationship by playing cars? 

He has taught me to be consistent. Children, especially mine like structure and consistency, once we created a bedtime routine, within days he was reminding us what came next. I have learned that when I give him a heads up on what's coming next, he transitions to the next activity (or naptime) almost seamlessly. 

One Year!

Eighteen months

Two years!

I am grateful beyond words (but I'll try to find them) that I have been with my little man for two years! Four weeks after his birth I got a blood clot in my leg. I didn't realize how life threatening a blood clot was at the time. I just kept thinking about how much I missed my sweet husband and my precious newborn. I wanted to get out of that hospital bed and go home to be with my family. I couldn't even feel like I was with him by sending home breast milk. I was on a cocktail of different medications and painkillers throughout my stay at the hospital that I couldn't even pump. That alone was disheartening. After my thrombectomy (blood clot removal) procedure I recuperated at my parents' house. I couldn't walk without the assistance of a walker, so midnight feedings were taken over by the hubs or my mother. I have been a mother two years now and plan on being one forever! I have enjoyed it too much.

And most importantly, I owe my life to my mother! Even after having the perfect Brady Bunch family, she didn't feel like her family was complete until I came along (that sounds really egocentric). What I'm trying to say is, "Thanks mom, for wanting me!"

June 2007

I hope you mothers out there enjoy your day!

~ Lady Jane

Walk to School

I decided to reflect a little more on what Goldberg meant by composting and I thought of a place that I know very well, still to this day. Even though it's been almost a decade since I've been to said place, I walked this stretch of road five days a week for a total of eight years! This stretch of road lead from my home to my elementary school. I remember walking down my driveway over the two speed bumps (installed because of my aunt's worrisome nature) and up to the main street of my little county island neighborhood. I would veer left heading towards what seemed another long driveway, towards my school. Once I passed under the steel-fence frame's opening I was greeted by a huge expanse of grass separated by a berm. I even still remember thinking about how funny the word "berm" was the more and more I said it. Berm, berm, berm...it's just funny.

I would get to school about fifteen to twenty minutes before the first bell. I dropped off my backpack at my classroom's spot on the edge of the basketball court and immediately ran off to play or gossip as the morning sun slowly brightened in the east.

I loved walking to school in the winter time, fascinated I could see my breath and absolutely convinced that it had snowed when in fact it was frost.

I had wonderful teachers at my elementary, still remember them all. Even the music, art, and P.E. teachers. They all had a profound effect on me as I grew up.

Kindergarten: Mrs. Alvin Music: Mrs. Cluff

1st Grade: Miss Brinkerhoff Art: Mrs. Taylor

2nd Grade: Mrs. Painter P.E.: Mr. Mullins

3rd Grade: Mrs. Walton Principal: Mr. Salisbury

4th Grade: Mrs. Peterson Office Ladies: Carol, Debbie

5th Grade: Mrs. Johnson Playground duty: Shirley

6th Grade: Mrs. Henkel Groundskeeper: Jay

I participated in talent shows, and assemblies. I embarrassed myself on more than one occasion. I learned that pulling the seat out from under a kid and trying to push it back in quickly warrants a note home and disappointment from your teacher as well as the truth that it always looks better in the movies.

Since I walked to school, I would sometimes go home for lunch. This kind of thing was only permitted if I told the playground duty where I was going before I left and when I came back. By the time I was in sixth grade they said I could just call the front office. I had such freedom and I felt like I was treated like any adult that worked at the school because I was trustworthy.

After I graduated from high school I worked at my elementary school for my childhood principal and with a few teachers that were still there when I was a student. I loved working with the kids and teachers which all helped me to discover that I wanted a career in teaching.

There are some good things that come from never being the "new kid". My family was established and by the time I was moving on from elementary school I had saved my family name that had been tarnished by a couple of older brothers (one mostly).