Mom

Boundary

Posted on by Lauren

Boundaries.

The older I get, the more I learn just how important they are. 

Setting them, adjusting as needed, and keeping them. 

They are important for all relationships, personal and professional. 

Marriage, friendships, coworkers and family. 

I’ve come to realize I feel most out-of-control when I’ve either failed to set a boundary or neglected to enforce it. 

And I had that come-to-Jesus moment just yesterday. 

One of my daughter’s spiraling separation anxiety has left me feeling suffocated. Aside from school, she will go very few places without me present- the entire time. Which is why we end up hosting most of her friends at our house and why I stay for her after-school activities. 

It’s not her fault. We are seeking multiple avenues of professional help. But it’s exhausting. I’m sure for her, too. 

I birthed her and I will stand by her, through thick and thin. She will know that when things get tough, I am walking alongside her through the muck until she is strong enough to wave goodbye and walk alone. 

But yesterday, I was upset that I was going to miss my husband’s volleyball tournament so that I could stay for my daughter’s weekly extracurricular. And in my frustration and resentment, I realized that her anxiety was now directly affecting MY life, MY marriage. I was failing to keep my boundary. 

So, I explained- you can go to your extracurricular alone or you can miss it and come with me because today, I choose me. I choose my husband. I choose our marriage, which we’ve always stressed comes absolutely first in this family. Without the strength of that bond, the rest collapses. 

He didn’t know I had changed plans and cracked a smile as we walked onto the beach.

I knew I’d made the right choice. 

I kept my boundary. 

I chose him. 

I chose us. 

And stronger together, we will support her. 

Protect

Posted on by Lauren

Have a good day at school today, honey.

Thx. Hopefully I don’t get shot.

Just typing this text exchange between me and my seventh grade daughter causes me to erupt into tears.

How are we here? Why?

Do I trust the email our school district sent, reassuring that they are aware and on top of the threat?

Or do I miss a day of work and pull my child from school?

My entire blog is about trusting the process and not living in fear of truth but when it comes to my child’s life, what then?

I can’t believe we have to have this conversation but if in danger, hide and cover your head.

I send her to school knowing that even if she survives her college graduation, she then has large concerts, grocery stores and churches to survive.

It never ends. The threat remains.

If you see someone injured apply a tourniquet above the wound- meaning tie a shoelace or a shirt above the area to stop the blood flow so that they don’t bleed out.

Ooo gross.

She and dozens of others visited the school counselor yesterday. Confused. Scared. Trying to discern whether they are overreacting or reacting appropriately. How is this ever appropriate?

It’s a stark reminder that life is precious, not to be taken for granted even on the most mundane, run-of-the-mill school days.

Love you.

love u.

Dear God, please protect our children.

Because clearly we can’t.

Camille Vaughan Photography

Mindfulness

Posted on by Lauren

My friend Harper recently came to visit. 

She’s single, doesn’t have children and lives alone in a great apartment in Brooklyn, NY. 

I admit, sometimes I dream of switching places. To eat at restaurants frequently. To have a well-paid professional career. To do whatever I feel like doing during my free time without others dictating the limitations. 

But my husband and I have been having conversations about the Buddhist principal: Want What You Have. 

Instead of “I have to take the kids to gymnastics.” It’s, “I get to take the kids to gymnastics.” It’s a simple word change but it’s latent with meaning: I’m lucky enough to have children. My children are fortunate to have a body that can perform gymnastics. I can afford a car to drive them and so much more. 

So the other night, after I cooked dinner and set it on the table to a critical crowd, “Ew! I hate chicken.” “Mom, if I eat that I’m going to choke.” Emmett looked at me with a twinkle in his eye and said, “But Lauren, you GET to cook them dinner.” 

We both burst into a fit of laughter. 

Because as grateful as we are for this life we’ve created together, as much as we do want what we have, we also recognize that it’s not always easy. It’s a constant juggling of his needs, my needs, their needs and our needs, as a family.

I allow myself to daydream of takeout, uninterrupted movies, and a wide-open schedule while simultaneously practicing mindfulness. Taking a moment to enjoy my surroundings- be it our front yard, the beach, or our rowdy kitchen table. I know these are “the days” and I GET to be their mom. I want what I have. 

But I’m still going to visit Harper in New York and practice mindfulness there, too. 

Inside Out

Posted on by Lauren

Was I the only one with tears streaming down my face while watching Inside Out 2 in the theater this morning?

I’m not sure but sitting next to my four daughters, this movie really hit home- particularly in reference to our 12 year-old. 

Those who know me personally know how attentive I’ve always been of our daughters’ feelings. As a child who often felt misunderstood, I know how important it is for my girls’ feelings to be validated, seen and explored, instead of ignored. 

Spoiler alert: the climax of the movie occurs when the emotion Joy realizes that she can no longer simply dismiss undesirable memories and power forward through main character Riley’s puberty ignorant of the arrival of new emotions anxiety, embarrassment, ennui and envy. The lesson that struck deep in my heart was that there was no turning back to the way things were before. Instead, Joy recognizes her need to include the new emotions in order for Riley to feel secure with her true self. It’s a hard pill to swallow- that we can’t just keep acting like everything is fine and BE fine. That when we try to fight anxiety with denial, it only grows. We must learn to live with, around and through it. 

Watching my child struggle with growing up has broken my heart into tiny little pieces. I want to fix it for her; the embarrassment the rejection, the shame she feels. And like Joy, I can’t. I watch helplessly as she struggles, knowing that there’s no other way than through. 

And yet, the overwhelming emotion I left that theater with was pure and true gratitude. As hard and ugly as witnessing Aurora’s journey to adulthood is, it’s also such an incredible privilege. I have been given a gift- this opportunity to empower and encourage my child. I walked away with more empathy than ever for my daughter and the desire to hug her as long as she would allow. Forever and ever. Inside out. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

Known

Posted on by Lauren

Aside from the 37 hour labor, 11 days past her due date, she really was almost too easy, as a baby. She was 16 months before she walked; instead, she happily sat on any surface and entertained herself with her surroundings- be that toys, people or pine straw. 

I should’ve known.

It was 30 hours into labor when my midwife looked at me and announced: 

“This is not your story to tell.”

Time stopped. My heart stopped. My tears flowed. 

Aurora had two cords wrapped around her neck at birth, delaying her arrival for good reason. 

My midwife looked me dead in my eyes to tell me when to push, when to pause and suddenly, urgently, when, with a roar, to give it my all. 

From the beginning, my daughter and I have challenged one another. 

Now, the tween years- the ones everyone before me has warned of. 

I fruitlessly planned for Aurora’s birth. 

I refuse to plan for these next days. 

Instead, I meet her where she is, each day. 

Just like her birth, it’s not easy. 

It never was. 

We cry, we argue, we admit our mistakes and we hug. 

It’s exhausting and rewarding. 

My girl has been stubborn from the beginning. 

But with good reason. 

It’s her story to tell. 

Not mine. 

I should’ve known. 

Camille Vaughn Photography

Sad

Posted on by Lauren

“You don’t get to tell me about “sad”.”

Anyone who has lost someone will tell you that grief is non-linear.

Some days you realize it’s been several hours since you thought of your loved one which then triggers a new wave of sadness, realizing how the passing time has shaped your grief. 

Grief surprises my family at any point, all throughout any regular day. 

Nights are the most challenging, when my daughters lie down to sleep and miss their bunny brother. 

Walking into the living room to see the empty fireplace where he sat upon his throne is hardest for me. And the other morning before school, when I went to grab a glass bowl out of the cupboard and realized it was the one we used as his water dish. I openly wept.

I had to correct my husband, someone who has never owned a pet before, when he referenced the point in time when we would “get over” our loss of Oreo. 

No. 

That’s simply not how grief works. 

You never, ever “get over” the loss. 

Instead, I recently came across an article about grief as a ball in a box that contains a pain button. In the beginning, the ball is large and almost always triggers the pain but in time, the ball gets smaller, hitting that grief button less often. Still, the intensity of the pain of the loss never dulls. It’s as if it just happened, no matter how much time has passed. 

When we first heard the shocking, tragic news, I encouraged my girls to grieve openly. Not to hide. Suppressing only prolongs. We wailed and howled. Each girl took turns collapsing into my arms; sometimes, I held all four at once. We were away from home and we were broken. 

Others nearby thought a close human family member must have died. When they learned it was “just” our rabbit, they were relieved and had a hard time understanding the intensity and duration of our sadness. 

“I’m sorry our grief makes you uncomfortable.” I quickly retorted.  

But I will never apologize for the open expression of our sadness. 

“You don’t get to tell me about “sad”.” -Taylor Swift “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?”

Camille Vaughan Photography

Prevent

Posted on by Lauren

I remember. 

I wish I could but I never will forget the supreme loneliness I felt as a child. 

And I suppose that is why, as an adult, I feel so committed to seeing children.

Physical presence is not enough. 

Neither is saying “I care.” 

It’s action. 

Before I took the pills that landed me in the hospital, before I stood on the edge of the balcony threatening to jump, I cut myself as a way to ease the pain. 

I was 12 years old. 

So, when my daughter exhibits signs of distress, 

I take her seriously. 

When minimal interventions (intentional time together, changes to routine, etc.) fail to work, I take action: therapy, medication. 

Prevention is not easy

But it sure is preferred to regret. 

My God

Posted on by Lauren

There are no sick days for mothers. 

A day of rest guarantees a day’s worth of extra work for the future. 

Never was this any clearer than when Elizabeth was six months old. 

My body had given up. 

I had spent the summer with all four girls at home while Emmett was at work. 

They were ages 6, 4, 2 and newborn. 

Elizabeth was “failure-to-thrive”. Not gaining weight, vomiting and crying constantly with eczema covering her body and we couldn’t figure out why. 

I was down twenty pounds, eliminating foods in a desperate attempt to continue breast feeding my last baby, only to find out later that the avocado I was surviving on was one of her FPIES (Food Protein-Induced Entercolitis) triggers. 

My back completely gave out and I was incapacitated in a chair watching friends and family trying to substitute for me: Laundry, meals, diapers, playtime, housework. 

It was laughable to think I had attempted to manage all of that on my own. 

I finally agreed to hire the help my husband had been encouraging me to get for months. 

I felt foolish staying at home and hiring someone to help complete my unpaid job but once she arrived, I was free to be a more present mother and enjoy my children rather than just survive them. 

Six years have passed and the nanny days are long over but mothering isn’t and I’m realizing, never will be. 

What happens when mom gets sick? 

It’s a lonely feeling. 

As a mom, I’m always anticipating my family’s needs but when sick, I’m still having to direct the show from bed. Appointment reminders, meal tips, boo-boo kisses and bedtime tuck-ins. 

Things only a mom knows of her own kids. 

I suppose that is what led me to pray to my heavenly father tonight. 

To ask him to take care of me when I’m feeling overwhelmed and neglected. 

No, there are no sick days for mothers. 

But it’s nice to know there’s someone always ready to embrace me. 

My God. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

The Gift of Time

Posted on by Lauren

It’s a well-known fact that we have a tendency to over-correct.

I just wonder how many of us recognize when we are doing it. 

I did when it came time to create the annual “Gift of Time” envelopes for my girls. 

A few years ago, in an effort to guarantee one-on-one time with mom or dad, I gifted each girl a stack of 12 envelopes- one for each month. Inside, a card with an activity they could choose to do with just mom or dad- no sisters. 

We were drowning with the responsibility of caring for our health-challenged youngest, not to mention juggling four young kids. The Gift of Time ensured we got that one-on-one time with each daughter. 

But, year-after-year, it turned into expectation. 

When they opened the envelope and it was a trip to the library or a bike ride, instead of the bowling alley or putt-putt, they were crestfallen. 

I realized I was creating presumptuous monsters, instead of appreciated moments. 

So, I’ve paused. Reevaluating. 

Sure, I want that precious time but at what cost?

I spent my adulthood wishing I’d had a closer relationship with my mother, when I was a child. 

But what if my children rely too much on their parents to feel satiated?

Is it possible that I’m setting them up for failure? A childhood so idyllic, it’s difficult to replicate? Is that a crime?

I’ve parented long enough to become comfortable in the gray- the not knowing the next step. 

Instead of forcing my choice, I watch and wait. 

The Gift of Time. 

Aurora Mae Turns 12

Posted on by Lauren

12.

Here you are, baby girl. 

On the precipice of teenage-hood and totally not looking forward to it. 

I get it. 

You were 11 days overdue and never wanting to leave has been your MO. 

I have a recording of you crying about going to college when you were just 6 so it’s nothing new. 

You are a creature of comfort. 

Your bed, your hair, your charisma, the softest. 

In addition to a slew of Taylor Swift themed gifts, I also presented you with a copy of articles I’ve written in your honor over the last eight years. 

You wept in my arms over the article I wrote about my own mom, What I Want You to Know

Because you felt the same about me. 

And it dawned on me. 

Mothers and Daughters are forever. 

You may be 12, 

But we are forever. 

Camille Vaughan Photography – 2020 -all four girls tried on my wedding dress.