Last week I came home to find Bubbles, my black fish, belly up in the fish tank. I frown and turn around to tell Josh. I turn around again and there’s Bubbles swimming around like his usual spritely self. I exclaim the peculiarity to Josh and he says that maybe he was playing dead so I would feed him. So I feed him. He’s just as happy and alive as always still today with no sign of death on the horizon. So, it’s official, my fish plays dead.
Category Archives: Storytelling
Falling in Love with Maisy
I knew I loved Maisy even before a pee stick told me I was pregnant. I distinctly remember praying for her on a run one day, a week before even taking the test was a possibility, and I prayed that she would love Jesus to her very core, be so full of joy, and come out perfectly healthy.
The moment I touched her I knew I loved her. This love was more a provident love. I knew all I wanted to do was provide for her and care for her better than anyone else in the world has ever cared for anyone.
But it wasn’t until the day after the hardship of trying to care for a newborn while photographing Sarah + Travis‘ wedding and the full day of mothering maddness that followed that my head love for Maisy found my heart. The thing is, I knew I loved Maisy but I didn’t feel it for a little while. Perhaps part of this is due to the zombie-like nature I found myself in for the first week and a half of new motherhood, but perhaps it is the hardship that finally connected my head with my heart. I have found it is only really “doing life” with someone that seals a friendship. Maisy is and was an easy baby. Motherhood and Maisy made sense to me and I was stress free… until Maisy’s 9th day. On Maisy’s 9th day I photographed a wedding. The wedding went well and Maisy was a champ, but the next day all hell broke loose. Maisy seemed desperate to eat all day long despite the fact that overeating only ended in projective vomit (see”Upchuck and Church“). It was an exhausting day and by the end of it I cried. The next day I woke up to the same baby but with a new dose of help: the moment my sleepy eyes met my newborn’s face my heart filled with this most bubbly, lovely goodness. That was the moment I truly fell in love with my daughter. A couple days later she knowingly smiled at me and we’ve been best friends ever since.
Upchuck at Church
So I’m significantly behind on some storytelling. Try as I might I’m sure I will not remember all the golden, and not so golden, moments I have wanted to write about since Maisy was born. This one is pretty unforgettable though.
I photographed my first wedding 9 days after Maisy was born. My poor little newborn had a mommy running around a wedding scene… no boob on demand that day that’s for sure! She came with for the experience under the excellent care of Grandma Calhoun. She was a sport throughout the whole day. It was the next day I paid for it. Even by 11am I could tell things were a little off. My munchkin seemed desperate during nursing and like she simply wasn’t handling her intake well. But I stubbornly got us to church because Citizen Way was playing for service at New Life Christian Church in Janesville and I simply couldn’t miss it.
Maisy was a champ, not complaining at all, but then she gushed a fountain of spit up like I’ve never seen before. It was like a creamy geyser took off in the middle of the service. No noise accompanied the overflow so it was only my seat neighbor that knew of the mess being spewed all down my front side. She jumped up and away from me. As Maisy upchucked all over me all I could do was watch her and catch the flow so it only ended up on me and not all over the seat, floor, or neighbors around me. I just watched her vomit. I mean, what can you do really? Especially when bolting out of my seat as she hurled would only trail the mess.
The minute she was done I fled the scene. In the bathroom I discovered puke in my hair and covering the whole left side of my body. I wiped Maisy down, changed her diaper, and changed her clothes. My friend Laura was all hands on deck during the process. Bless her. When Maisy was tended to I whipped off my shirt, yes in the middle of a church’s public bathroom, and handed it to Laura. She rinsed it out and dried it under the hand dryers. That thing looked brand, spankin’ new. Meanwhile I was bent over in the sink rinsing out my hair and wiping off my skirt.
I was a mess and slightly concerned about my daughter’s health but I was not at all frustrated or embarrassed by my experience. It was so neat having my friend jump to my aid and hear all the moms sympathize with my plight as they walked into the bathroom and saw this new mom shirtless and sopping. Truth is, I guess we’ve all been there.
I am enjoying motherhood, even the quirky moments like this one, and I especially love discovering how supportive the mothering community is. I guess I expected a bunch of bossy know-it-alls telling me how to take care of my kid but I’ve found quite the opposite. I’ve only come across comrades in arms and willing helpers. Fellow moms, you rock!
Birth Story – Maisy
Fair warning, I don’t want to scare any woman out of having children but I do want to tell you my birth story and, more importantly, I want to write my birth story. I don’t want to forget it because, believe it or not, I love my story.
Back labor feels like the most painful pooping experience you can imagine; you have to poop so badly it makes you feel nauseous, there is this intense stinging pain welling in your lower back, you feel hot and clammy all over, and tears well up in your eyes… but you can’t actually poop. Hopefully, you know what I’m talking about. Actually, hopefully not. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, think flu with diarrhea while you are on your period. Think pain, lots of pain. All the pain you can imagine. And then more.
Anyway, during labor, it took me a long time to realize that I didn’t have to run (ok, hobble like a drunk man trying to cradle three bowling balls in his arms) to the toilet every time I was having a contraction. I fought through these contractions with controlled breathing. Not lamaze style folks, yoga style. Deep breaths in, deep breaths out. It was the only way I could keep myself from collapsing into a fit of sobbing and hyperventilation. I did this laboring for three days while rotating from a poised seated position on the couch or the birth ball, to laying down on my side, to standing and leaning on something, to any one of an array of yoga poses. I also managed to go on a couple of walks, take a couple baths, watch a few movies, keep no amount of food down, and get a few minutes of sleep in-between contractions sometimes. I was in labor so long my doula called in back up doulas so she could get some rest.
32 hours into labor we drove to the hospital. I was still on the same timeline, contractions were still 5 minutes long and 5 minutes apart. I didn’t want to be traveling to the hospital under much more pain so off we went. On the way there even driving over a fist sized rock felt like my insides were being pulled out of my body.
We made it into triage for my assessment. In-between contractions I was grilled with questions and prodded. I was told I was only dilated to 2 cm and that I couldn’t be admitted until I reached 4 cm. I had to go home. This news sucked all hope and gumption out of me. My reality was 32 hours of grueling sleepless and foodless labor behind me and another 45 minute excruciating drive home ahead of me for more of the same. I cried. Hard.
56 hours into labor I called my doctor. In reality I asked her for help in a controlled and kind voice – in my head I was screaming and crying and pleading all at the same time. She said I could head to the hospital and she would admit me whether I was 4 cm or not. If not, then she would give me morphine so I could catch some sleep. I was so excited I could barely stand it! I was going to get some sleep! And I was going to the hospital to stay!
This time triage discovered I had made it to 5 cm! I was given some lesser version of morphine and wheeled down to my delivery room (that drug works quickly, I tried to walk but apparently all I could manage was a swaying drunk man’s wobble step so they plopped me into a wheel chair.) After they hooked me up to an IV (because I hadn’t eaten in days) I slept for what felt like hours (which I later found out was a mere 45 minutes.) I was renewed with vitality to pursue getting my baby out. My doctor asked to break my water because I was not progressing from 5 cm. I said ok and worked hard on dilating further. I took a walk in the hall, stretched on my yoga mat, performed labor encouraging yoga poses, and walked lunges until I made myself dizzy. Then I was exhausted again.
I don’t remember the next several hours. I know my first Allison nurse was replaced by another Allison nurse. I know this new Allison nurse fussed with my external baby monitor so much I wanted to yell at her until she would stop. It made me internally insane. I mean, I didn’t even want the thing in the first place but at 41 weeks I had no choice in the matter. Anyway, I was not above yelling at her. I wanted to with my whole being. But all I could manage to get out were these polite requests for her to please leave it alone. I’ve heard that other women yell and scream and sob during labor. During pregnancy I was told I would do the same. That I would hate my husband and anyone trying to help me. But no, I was told I was completely polite, cheerful even. I thought for sure I had pleaded for pain medication, or anything else that would help me, but apparently I didn’t make a peep about it. Josh said he even thought I was doing just fine. In reality, it was utterly debilitating having my own body torture me. There simply was no assailant I could attack to make my pain stop. There was only myself to be mad at. So, not only was I battling labor, but I was emotionally crushing myself. I was mad at my own body and mind for not being able to get my baby out.
Finally, my nurse asked if we could use pitocin.
My birth plan specifically indicated I wanted a completely natural birth and all the parameters around that. It was my deepest desire to bring my baby into the world without medical intervention. So, it’s easy to say I was beyond desperate to end my labor when my response was, “yes, but I will also need an epidural.”
My memory of everything after this moment is laced with the golden glow of joy. It’s like my world went into fast forward because what was several more hours felt like mere minutes. I was poked with the epidural, the Pitocin was administered through my IV, and suddenly I was feeling powerful urges like a strong need to poop. My doctor checked in and checked me. I was 9 cm.
Again, my memory eludes me but at this point Josh left to get a drink and my doctor left before I could manage to mention I needed to push. I turned to my nurse and told her to get Dr. Mallory and my husband because I was pushing with or without them when the next contraction hit.
As my first push hit me Josh burst into the room followed shortly by Dr. Mallory. My visual of the space before me was through a wide angle lens, everyone comically distorted and blurry but still recognizable. I had my nurse to my left, a back up doula was standing over my left foot taking pictures with my phone, my doctor was sitting in a chair quietly instructing Josh on how to help by holding my right leg, and my doula was whispering encouragement and tips in my ear while feeding me ice chips. I vividly remember hearing the phrase “you’re so close” so often I wanted to scream at them to stop saying that until they meant it. I desperately wanted to tell them to reserve that phrase for when I was on my last push or two but all I could do was let out animal groans/grunts. They kept showing me my progress with a mirror, but seeing a little more of my baby’s hairy head did not help me figure how many more pushes it would take for her head to pop out. That’s all I was thinking about, something like “how many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop,” but birth style.
41 weeks of pregnancy, 72 1/2 hours of labor, and 52 minutes of pushing and our baby finally entered the world with a healthy cry and a bright red face. Josh pulled her out by the shoulders and before she was all the way out I reached down and pulled her up and onto my chest. Well, almost. Comically enough, the umbilical cord was so short she didn’t quite reach. Dr. Mallory asked who we had and I was shellshocked to realize we completely forgot to check the gender. Josh took a peek and we named our girl on the spot, Maisy Joy Calhoun. After a few minutes the cord was finished pulsing so Josh cut it and I settled Maisy on my chest. Within minutes she hunted around to eat so I helped her over to feed. Josh and I spent the next hour snuggling and staring at the side of Maisy’s face as she learned how to nurse.
My birth story veered pretty far off my intended path, but I don’t regret one decision. Yes, I took drugs to help me sleep. Yes, I ended up with Pitocin and an Epidural. But I also ended up being able to push strong because I achieved some rest. I was also able to finally dilate to 10 cm with the help of Pitocin. And my Epidural wore off by the time I got there so I could feel the urge to push. I am incredibly thankful for these drugs. With a posterior baby and a tall pelvis my body simply couldn’t get her out without help. Without the drugs I would have ended up with the c-section my medical staff was apparently discussing unbeknownst to me. At the end of the day, I have a very healthy baby girl and a birth story that I can remember as colored with joy instead of only pain and suffering.
So I’m Married to a Touring Musician
He comes home, he leaves, and he comes back again. After over four years of marriage I have finally adjusted to such a reality. Just like most couples get used to parting ways on weekdays, I have gotten used to parting with my husband for a day or a few days or a week or a month…
I hear a lot of “I could never do that” or “wow that must be hard” or “how do you do it?” You don’t have to feel bad for me. We chose this lifestyle and it does have its disadvantages but it most certainly has its advantages.
Disadvantages
I miss the night time snuggling. He misses the night time snuggling. Truth is, I think he has a harder time with this one than me. At least, when he’s gone, I get to welcome the dogs into my bed. The best bed snuggles he gets on the road is a butt bump with his brother.
A job on the road is a dangerous one. Fortunately I am not a worrier. However, I do have my moments. Sometimes I get struck with a panic that any given moment my husband’s life might be obliterated while on the road. They say car accidents are the 9th leading cause of death. The Citizen Way boys drive themselves across the country overnight. Crazy folks drive around in the middle of the night you know. Sometimes Josh will tell me of a close call. Like one time they were trekking along as usual when a semi truck freakishly swerved from the right of them to fishtailing around the front of them and into the ditch on the other side without even the slightest moment of contact. I lean heavily on God’s protection and fold myself into the truth that no matter what happens He will get me through it. There is beauty in that. Beauty in needing God that way.
Sometimes he has more fun than I do. Sometimes they play around at an amusement park, completely bypassing all the lines with their fancy VIP passes. Sometimes they get to go to really warm places in the dead of winter and come home with some nice tans. Sometimes he gets really cool, free stuff. Sometimes he gets to go to a place I’ve always wanted to visit. I love that he gets these things! But I do admit that I occasionally experience a trickle of jealousy when the most exciting thing I’m doing is culling a wedding.
I just don’t fit in. When Josh is gone I am half of a couple. This means I don’t exactly fit in with my couple’s friends and I don’t fit in with single friends. I think I fit in better with my single friends and, admittedly, tend to enjoy outings that aren’t strictly for the couples more than those that are while Josh is away. In the early days of Josh hitting the road I would jump at any invitation to be out with people. Not too long into my readiness though did I find it was hard to always be the single one at the couple’s outings. I found myself feeling like a little black sheep that people felt sorry for but no one really knew what to do with. More significantly, I found I became more homesick for Josh. Sometimes this was a fond homesickness, I longed for him to come home. Other times I grew frustrated that I didn’t get to be normal and have him around always like my other friends. You can imagine that the latter was particularly grievous to our relationship. Bummer for Josh to all of a sudden have a frustrated wife when he didn’t do anything wrong. All that being said, there are so many times when I love going to couples outings so don’t be scared to invite me! If I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it I’ll just hang back.
I’m stuck with the full load of responsibility. When Josh is gone, especially for long periods of time, I soon get stressed by the load that falls on my shoulders. I am suddenly also in charge of the matters Josh consistently takes care of. As a result of this phenomenon I happened to take on most of the load on a daily basis. This way, when he’s gone, I don’t get hit so hard with lots of extra responsibilities, I just get hit with the full load I normally handle.
Communication gets tough. Those of you who are married know how important good communication is. When Josh is on the road we are left to the occasional phone call and texting. Of course this is helpful, but phone calls can only dig so deep. I’ve come to find that certain good communication habits fall by the wayside when they haven’t been practiced even for a little while. When we get back together we are suddenly held accountable again for body language or tone subtleties that get masked by a phone call. We tend to misunderstand or misread each other for a good chunk of time before we get adjusted back to good communication habits. We also find just how much is left out of our phone conversations. After all, it’s hard for Josh to be as transparent and sociable with me when a whole van of dudes will hear what he tells me too.
Advantages
I can get lots done when he’s gone. Sometimes friends ask me how I possibly manage to be so stinking productive. Well, the answer is, I am frequently left to my own devices and a girl’s gotta do something! This is how I can tackle a photography business, freelance photography work, DIY projects, homesteading, cooking and baking, blogging, writing, and other varieties of productiveness that come my way. This is, perhaps, the perk I enjoy most about our unique marriage. I love feeling useful and like I’ve accomplished a lot in one day! I love that in one day I can get all my photography work done, make a homemade meal from scratch, finish a DIY project or two, take the dogs to the dog park, and still sit down and read at the end of the day.
I get to be Miss Independent when he’s gone. I basically get to live like a single person while Josh is away. I get to do what I want, when I want, with who I want. Sometimes I like to go out with my single friends while Josh is on the road. Sometimes I rearrange the house. Sometimes I let the house be messy. And sometimes I clean the place until it’s sparkling. Sometimes I like to watch Tangled three nights in a row. Sometimes I like to make a salad the way I like it. Sometimes I take the dogs for a long walk along the routes Josh hates. Sometimes I play my favorite music very loud and dance as undignified as possible. Sometimes I sit in complete silence for as long as I want.
Alone time is good. I’m not sure if it’s because of my lifestyle that I value alone time and quiet time so much or if it’s the way I was from the beginning, but all I know is the moment Josh comes home I am struck my how much more noisy my life gets. When it’s just me at the house I get to choose any and all noise that fills my ears. Then, suddenly, when Josh gets back my whole day is packed with music or other noise – sometimes I even experience the noise through the night with heavy breathing or as I try to lay down to sleep while he’s still working on a song in his studio. If Josh isn’t actively writing or rehearsing a song, teaching music lessons, or performing on stage he’s usually still singing some song as he goes about his day. What I’ve learned in all this is that, eventually, even music just becomes noise. The bit I miss least when Josh is gone is the repetitive song playing. When he’s recording or practicing a song I hear the same one line of melody so many times that my feelings towards that line of notes is no different than to how I would respond to a broken record or someone unrelentingly knocking on my front door for an hour. This admittance pains me because I feel guilty for feeling this way – especially when most folks comment on how I’m so lucky to have my house filled with live music all the time. I will admit that the first time and even up to the fifth or sixth time I’ve heard the same song in a row I feel blessed and privileged… it’s when the song seems like it’s never going to end that my seams start to split.
The reunions are always incredible. They say, “absence makes the heart grow fonder.” Well I’d say Josh and I are well advanced in fondness due to all the time spent apart! Every time he leaves I am now in the habit if switching gears to life as an off-the-market single woman. It’s like changing clothes to me now. Simply switching gears. My heart lives in this interestingly content place of getting things done, hanging with the dogs or friends, or soaking up some alone time while also wholly looking forward to the moment he walks back through the front doors and into my longing arms. It feels like the honeymoon stage all over again! You may be thinking, well I’m sure glad I’m not in the honeymoon phase anymore! We were way too emotionally insane and unbalanced to want to go back to that! Let me tell you a secret, this perpetual “honeymoon phase” of ours is a different kind of animal. Instead of coupling the intense emotional excitement and passion with so much miscommunication and misunderstanding we get only the former! Cool huh? Perhaps this sounds totally not fun to you, but I’ve come to love the emotional highs and lows. Also, to be completely transparent, good ‘ol hanky panky after a forced period of time away is real nice.
Sometimes I get to go with. For every tour he’s a part of I make a point to make it out to at least one show. Even this small consolation of a free concert is enough to be a perk but it’s the overwhelming pride and joy I experience as I watch the world’s kindest and most adorable man living his dream out on stage that really takes the cake. And to top it off, sometimes I even get the opportunity to go with to a really snazzy event or to an awesome location. Some of my favorite “business” trips with Josh have been to the KLOVE Fan Awards and to the SESAC Awards Ceremony.
Love and Friendship
Even with all of the advantages to our marital lifestyle I must admit I do get significantly lonely when Josh is gone. It is just me and the dogs at home after all and they aren’t much for conversation. I know some people are unsure what to do with a lady in a situation like mine. Do we invite her or not? If I could choose, I would always be invited! Even if I can’t make it I am always filled up with warm tingles when I am invited. The only other alternative is me pestering all you folks to hang out with me and with a husband gone so frequently that truly gets exhausting! Moral of the story, the best way to love on this lonesome wife is to invite me for a hang.
Moving Forward…
And now we just had a baby, a little girl. I’m sure a lot of these advantages and disadvantages will start looking very different. And I’ll probably have more to add now that we have Maisy around too. Maybe I’ll fill you in after we’ve experienced a couple rounds of Papa being away 🙂
Musings of a Musician's Wife 