Poetic Wisdom in a Wire-bound Notebook

My mom died on a rainy Tuesday in August, and I was angry at her for a long time because of it. I still had four months left in my pregnancy; four months full of weird discharge and scary sensations and conflicting advice coming in from every angle...how would I know what was normal if I didn't have my rational, seasoned mother to tell me?

How could she just leave when I still needed her?

And then there was the business of actually raising a daughter. I didn't know how to parent. How was I supposed to survive this tiny person? How is any human woman expected to accomplish every single thing that needs to be done in order to stay in favor of society's overwhelming expectations of a "good mother"?

How could I possibly navigate motherhood while I was mother-less?

Rationally I knew things would turn out just fine (and with the help of a supportive husband and a hell of a lot of Prozac they did), but honestly...I just wanted my mommy.

A few months after my daughter was born, my dear dad started the Great House Purge of 2015 (It's a clever grandparenting trick, so watch out; they come to see the baby, shower the baby with gifts, play with the baby...and when you're not paying attention, they sneak several boxes of childhood relics into your house). It was all things that he no longer wanted cluttering up his basement but never had the heart to throw away, and suddenly I was the proud re-owner of boxes of random history that I hadn't thought about in 30 years.

Most of it ended up in a Dumpster- I had no reason to keep every single spelling test I ever took between 2nd and 5th grade, after all-but among the random pictures of dogs I didn't recognize and scarves that might have belonged to my great aunt Dot but also might have come from a Wal Mart clearance rack, I found this:

This was the handbook they gave new mothers in hospitals...in 1979. I was pleasantly surprised to see that a lot of the information is fairly similar to what I received 35 years and 11 months later. However, there were some dated highlights:

• The baby is only allowed to be in the room with the mother after it is 16 hours old (might explain a lot of Gen X's attachment issues, tbh)
• Fathers are only allowed to visit during daytime hours (Nope. Nope nope nope nope nope. If I'm losing sleep, you're losing sleep, buddy!)
• No smoking while holding the baby (Timeless advice, sure, but this is referring to while the mother is still in the hospital. Because you could smoke in hospitals in 1979...)

After quite literally digging a little deeper, I also unearthed this gem:

My mother was a social worker by trade, and she was exceptionally good at it. She exuded a calm, quiet gracefulness that I absolutely did not inherit and have never been able to replicate. She saw the worst that humanity had to offer and rarely let it sour her on the potential goodness of mankind.

She was also a prolific writer, and inside this notebook I found an original essay she'd written just after my brother was born. I published it as its own piece here and have reread it so many times throughout the years I've nearly worn through the paper.

She was a woman of efficiency, too. She made lists and set goals and never wasted her own time or anyone else's.

"Always leave a room neater than when you entered," she'd say to my brother and me. "It saves time and hassle later."

So the fact that she took the time to scribble down poems that struck a chord with her must have meant that they were worth reading, remembering, and learning from. When I read this journal, I hear her voice patiently explaining the meaning behind it.

Even though I already kinda know, because she taught me well.

If you have built castles in the air

your work need not be lost

That is where they should be

Now put foundations under them

-Henry David Thoreau

So dream big, kiddo. Dream real big. But if you want dreams to become real, you've got to put in the hard work. Otherwise, you don't get to complain when things don't work out.

And save the times that are alright

For the times that aren’t so good.

-Rod McKuen

See, it's not all doom and gloom, kiddo. When you're having a bad day, remember all the good days. I guarantee there are more good days than bad days, especially when you have a daughter. When you're old and so is she, all you're both going to remember are the good days anyway.

We come into this world alone

We go away the same

We're meant to spend the interlude between in closeness

Or so we tell ourselves

But it's a long way from the morning to the evening.

-Rod McKuen

(This woman loved Rod McKuen.)

So look, Kiddo. You need to be okay with being alone because there's nothing worse than being surrounded by people you don't really like just for the sake of not being lonely. And make sure your relationships are genuine, even if they're few. And make sure my grandbaby knows that, too. Being alone builds character.

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.

-Helen Keller

Kiddo, what is the point of being miserable in a mundane routine? Go live your life! Let your daughter color on the walls. Go get paint on the carpet. Ignore bedtime once in a while, why don't ya?

Make time

Pick clover in March

Be drunk

Throw back your head

Drink gulps of life

-Unknown

Kiddo, for the love of God, stop talking about it. Start doing it.