I'm sending you this letter from home, where we've spent most of our time this summer so far. I haven't written in a while— a little over two months in fact. A little after I sent my last letter, on April 29, our fourth child Beatrice was born. We welcomed her into our living room and into our lives on a quiet night while her siblings slept, in the company of our midwives and the doula who has been present at each of our children's births. This was our first homebirth and though I cherish the way each of my kids have come into the world, whether in the hospital or at a birthing center, I'm so grateful I had the chance to labor with Beatrice and give birth to her at home. She arrived quickly and began “talking” to us as soon as we held her, in a sweet, high voice that is entirely her own. So far she is proving to be our chillest kiddo, and the most punctual, having made her entrance a mere two hours before her due date. We love her so much, and though life is many things right now, our little Bea is truly a delight.
What's it like to have four kids? I'll direct you to this quote from Jim Gaffigan's brilliant special, Mr. Universe: Just imagine you're drowning. And then someone hands you a baby.
May and June were challenging in all the ways I expected newborn days to be: minimal sleep, zero personal space, and all of the awkward adjustments to nursing a tiny baby while attempting to care for my postpartum body. But there have been less expected challenges, too. While I knew Iris, at 2 years and four months, would have a hard time adjusting to a new baby, I kind of thought Sky and Robin would take it in stride. Welcoming Bea has meant welcoming a host of tumultuous feelings, for all of us. Our family dynamics have changed in ways we can’t articulate just yet. I often feel like if I’m meeting one person’s needs, I’m neglecting or only aiming in the general direction of five other people’s needs.
Finding meaning in hard things helps lower stress, and so I’m looking at this time as an opportunity to learn to be hospitable to difficult feelings, whether it’s my own feelings of inadequacy or my kids’ frustration or anger. Unsurprisingly, this is hard work. I’m making a lot of mistakes.
We are also making a lot of sweet memories. I love watching Lyle love our kids. I love seeing my older three smiling at the baby to make her smile. I notice them growing closer to one another, and finding more independence and confidence in how they belong and contribute to our family. I’m enjoying some one-on-one time with Lyle and with each of the kids when we have a sitter or some family in town to help. I’ve loved having both sets of grandparents visit, and have never felt more grateful for their presence and the unique gifts each of them bring to our home.
Beatrice was baptized last weekend, and I’ve been reflecting on what it is that we are baptizing her into. An elder at church put it wisely: Christ is both gift and sacrifice, and in baptism, we honor both. As parents, we experience a reflection of this mystery, receiving our children as gifts, raising them with self-sacrifice. I choose to follow Jesus because He first chose me, just as I am, and I want to bring up my children to do the same, and to know themselves as utterly beloved, always, by a big, good God.
That is what I want for everyone: to know we are all loved beyond measure.
Bea’s baptism took place during Pride weekend in Portland. (Mid-July is also when my older three kids were baptized, last year.) Pride happens mid-June nationally, but in Portland the community has decided to celebrate a month later, partly to avoid competing with Father’s Day and Juneteenth celebrations. That these two events coincided— Bea’s baptism and the weekend of solidarity and joy in the queer community— feels right to me, because it reminds me of the challenge I face in raising them in a Church that has inflicted deep wounds, and the hope I have for a better future for all Catholics. I know for certain that God’s love extends to everyone, even and especially those who are marginalized by the dominant culture. I plan to raise my kids to know this God— the God of love, the Spirit who is always with us, the Jesus who walked among us and identified with the outcast.
I want to be really clear about that perspective, because I know some readers here who don’t know me in real life, or who haven’t connected with me in a while, may make assumptions about what my conversion to Catholicism means. One of the misunderstandings I had to overcome before joining the Catholic Church was that everyone in the Church shares the same, conservative political beliefs. In fact, there is a huge range of political belief within the Church. There are many people working hard to create positive change, and alongside a history that includes the worst sides of humanity, there’s also a history of saints, scholars, and activists who gave their lives for the liberation of others, and that inspires me.
It’s a history that includes activists like Dorothy Day, advocates like Jesuit priest James Martin, and social justice movements like Liberation Theology, the framework upon which my community acupuncture school based the praxis of Liberation Acupuncture.
I wanted to share these thoughts here, not to make an argument or minimize the pain caused by people in the Church now and over the course of history, but to make clear where my heart lies, and hopefully to continue in conversation, in real life, with those of you I get to connect with offline. It’s a really complex subject and one I don’t take lightly. I also don’t think I can or should do it justice in a monthly newsletter.
For me, Bea’s baptism reflects our commitment to point her to Jesus, an itinerant teacher whose only home was with the marginalized and oppressed, and who taught that our true home is in God and with God, as his beloved children.
I don't know how often I will manage to write in this full season of parenting, homeschooling, and studying for three acupuncture boards (please pray for me!). But I hope that whenever and wherever my letters find you, that you feel welcome in these digital pages, and that my writing moves you toward deeper connections with God and with one another.
BOOKS
A few library finds the kids have especially enjoyed this summer: Jacob Grant's books Bear's Scare and No Pants! These were simple, sweet, funny reads the kids wanted to read over and over. Zap! Clap! Boom!, by Laura Purdie Salas, captured Iris's imagination as she worked through a mix of anxiety and curiosity about the thunderstorms we experienced in June. Ever our most vocal child, she loved shouting out the book's refrain-- Zap! Clap! Boom!-- whenever we read the book, and also when the book was nowhere in sight, such as in a cafe or grocery store. Outside, Inside by LeUyen Pham was a beautiful book that helped Sky and Robin understand some of what we went through during the pandemic. Pham, who illustrates the Princess in Black books, is a favorite illustrator in our house, and it was fun to read a book she both illustrated and wrote.
Personally, I haven’t had much margin for reading until recently. Bea started sleeping independently in her Moses basket at around 8 weeks old— thanks to the Baby Merlin sleep suit— and I have been able to squeeze in a few minutes of reading before bed or early in the morning. Here are some (largely unedited) thoughts on my three summer reads, all nonfiction.
The 2009 book Simplicity Parenting by Kim John Payne had been on my TBR list for years, but I finally picked up a library copy a few days before we left on a roadtrip to California for a family wedding celebration. This book spoke to me! It's about simplifying your home and your family's schedule by creating rhythms that allow for deeper play and make room for deeper connections. I'm no stranger to the allure of minimalism or determining what possessions “spark joy,” but what I loved about this book is that it isn't prescriptive; there's nothing here saying you must do exactly this or never do that. Instead, the anchoring message is an invitation to reimagine parenting by remembering what you had dreamed of to begin with. When Lyle and I spent some time talking about the dreams we had before we became parents, so many things began to reach out for my attention, asking to be let go.
We took a look at our kids' rooms and playroom, our kitchen cabinets and backyard, and our family's schedule, asking ourselves what supported that vision and what inhibited it. We decided to hit pause on our kids' Saturday back-to-back dance classes and keep only Sky's weekly dance class. I backed out of a science enrichment class we'd been waitlisted for that would have taken us clear across town every week come fall. And I happily stopped looking for summer camp options for Robin, who told me very clearly he would much rather stay home and play.
Finally, I took several carloads (several! carloads!) of toys and clothes and books down to the Goodwill. This has been the most significant and joyful change for us— and I don’t take for granted that it comes from a place of tremendous privilege. Having too much instead of too little, to the point where stuff has become a source of stress, is convicting on many levels. I didn't think we had very many toys to begin with, but I did feel really, really tired of the daily nagging I was doing to get the kids to pick up. With less stuff around— surprise!— it's easier for them to put it away. This has freed up so much energy for me and has inspired more creative play in my kids. No joke. They have not seemed to miss the extra toys and books at all. Instead, I've watched them build elaborate forts inside and outside and play in them for hours. I've seen them collaborate to build MagnaTile train villages, create robot suits and boats out of diaper boxes, and sit side by side playing with kinetic sand. I won't say things are conflict-free (they are siblings after all), but I've noticed a shift in their ability to play together peacefully for longer periods.
This approach has been so empowering. I can breathe more easily and make decisions for our family with less anxiety about “missing out” on something. I am reconnecting to what really matters for us, and finding that time together at home is something precious that I want to protect.
Since I apparently had a lot to say about a book on simplicity, I'll be brief with the next two. When we left for our roadtrip, I also took along No Bad Kids: Toddler Discipline Without Shame by Janet Lansbury, a book I'd last read when Sky was two. I like Lansbury's approach— it's based on Magda Gerber's RIE method, or Resources for Infant Educarers. Lansbury's simple writing style is encouraging and easy to read and put into practice. Since Bea was born, Iris has found buttons I didn't even know I had, and she really pushes them! Rereading Lansbury's book has helped me see Iris's behavior for what it is: a developmentally appropriate way of expressing her feelings and needs. It's helping me stay calm, set limits, and not take things personally. I am still having really, really tough parenting weeks with her but I'm going down the anxiety spiral a lot less, and I'm better able to see where we are making progress.
The third book, The Perfectionist's Guide to Losing Control by Katherine Morgan Schafler, has had me singing with joy. I've never felt so absolutely seen by an author. I'm an Enneagram 1 (reformer/perfectionist) with an equally strong type 2 (helper/caregiver) wing, and I've bounced back and forth between the two, never feeling that either one fit me. This book has helped me reconcile these parts of my personality, by understanding that I express perfectionism in my relationships, especially in motherhood. This is the first book I have ever read that casts perfectionism in a positive light, and affirms my long-held belief that perfectionism is an integral part of who I am. I've struggled so much with the dominant message that perfectionism is something to “recover” from, and that the way to do that is to just not want to excel or improve things anymore. Schafler also makes excellent points about how misogynistic the current trope of the “recovering perfectionist” is. She uses vivid metaphors to describe what perfectionism is in truth— ambition and drive— and offers practical tools for developing this part of yourself into a power you can use to help rather than harm.
GIVE
If you have a few moments, would you please visit this GoFund Me for Jeanie Diaz’s family? Jeanie was the youth librarian at the Holgate branch in SE Portland where my family attended many, many storytimes. We loved her. She was an incredibly kind, imaginative soul and such a positive force in our community. Jeanie leaves behind a husband and two young children. I’m heartbroken for them.
I’d love to hear from you. Please drop a comment or email me and tell me what you’ve been reading or learning lately. Thanks so much for reading.
I just can’t tell you how much I enjoy your thoughtful, wise, and heartfelt writing. You invite me into the season you are in and always leave me with something to apply to my own life.
PS I appreciate your vulnerability about how beautiful, yet challenging it is to welcome a new baby, while still trying to (and sometimes failing) to meet the needs of your other children. You’re doing such good and hard work!❤️
So much to love about this Melissa!! So much. Thank you for your words and pointing us to the God who loves us all, and everyone, so widely! Simplicity parenting has been on my list too. I need to check it out!