We Get By

Life is a group effort.

Let’s Be Human is a publication by KHM, exploring faith, the imaginative, and the complexity of being human with other humans. This post happens to heavily feature pizza.

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“How do you get through the storm?”

It’s such a genuine question. I squint in the sun and sway unconsciously. My friend sits on the edge of a bone-dry concrete fountain. Our half-eaten box of cheese pizza rests on the ground by our feet, our kids having abandoned lunch in favor of slides and swings and a precarious teeter-totter.

The last couple months have been stormy for both of us. Sick kids. Job changes. School complications. Health issues. Disappointment. Drama. Questions. Fatigue. Overwhelm.

There have been moments of sunshine. Big sunshine. Answered prayers. Growing family. Victory. Progress. Rest.

But, on the whole, I’d say our ships are in need of safe harbor, our tattered sails in need of repair.

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My mom walks through the front door as I trudge into the living room. She reads the story of our sleepless night and congested baby in my disheveled clothes and baggy eyes. I hand over Boink for some snuggles and pour myself a glass of water. At the small table, our older two bicker over who has the larger Playdough ball collection. Mom looks at the baby in her arms, then at me.

“How can we help?” she asks.

Without hesitation: “Take the girls for the weekend?”

She smiles. “We can make that happen.”

The big girls spent that evening chowing down on hot dogs and cupcakes and running around with neighbor kids at Gramma and PawPaw’s, while Hub and I munch leftover chicken and rice and mostly sitting in blissful silence while Boink nurses. We didn’t sleep through the night because Boink is still very congested (and had barely hit 6 weeks old), but in the morning, we stay in bed until 9 o’clock and that is glorious.

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The chiropractor shifts on the bench and plays with Boink’s bare feet as she talks to us. Boink surveys the softly lit room with alert eyes, enjoying newfound freedom in her relaxed shoulder, neck, and pelvic muscles.

“It might not seem like much,” the chiropractor said, rubbing circles on Boink’s soles, “but even the smallest increment of progress is progress. It’s all part of the healing journey and supporting her nervous system as she learns what it’s like to be outside the womb.”

"It’s a crazy world out here,” I said drily.

“It can leave us feeling a little helpless.” She didn’t miss a beat. Her fingers tickle at Boink’s feet one more time before smoothly attending to invisible pressure points along her hips. “But that’s why I’m here, to help you remember. Each step she takes is a step in the right direction, even if it feels like it’s taking her backward. Sometimes the body needs to retreat a little, reset, so that it can then move forward in a stronger way. It may take time for everything to align, but this really can make all the difference, for both of you.”

I watch, mesmerized by Boink’s tiny toes, balled-up fists, and wide brown eyes.

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Our driveway is long and pot-holed, dark damp dirt and pine needles, leaves, and bits of shell. I like to walk it slowly, barefoot, each root and dip and fallen yellow jasmine flower pressing into my soles. We like to use the trek down the driveway to check the mail as a distraction for our girls, something to break them out of their after-school-before-dinner mania.

Today, their journey (reticently undertaken) is rewarded by a special card in the mail.

“Mama, what is that?” Princess asks, the unspoken question being, “Is that for me?”

I open the envelope, addressed to me and Hub, to find a “yay, new baby!” card, a gift certificate for a local pizza joint, and kind notes from two of my coworkers.

That night we ate pizza, large slices with pineapples and ham and mushrooms.

“Mama, why are we having pizza?” Princess asks, meaning, “Is this gonna be a regular thing, because I’m all for it.”

I took a cheesy, sweet, salty bite and smile. “It was a gift.”

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And just when my creative muse feels stifled because I’ve been trying to write a post for over a week and, I swear, every time I manage to get two sentences down, the baby needs me or I need a nap or I realize that those two sentences would be more punchy as one sentence or more beautiful as three (why am I writing this in past tense as if I’m not talking about this very post), Morgan Harper Nichols drops this in my Instagram feed:

A happy, timely discovery on Instagram, by Morgan Harper Nichols

All in good time.

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My phone dings.

I just feel like I’m drowning in things I need to get done and I can’t get my head clear enough to decide what to do idk like you said maybe I’ll be able to think clearly later.

It’s a lot! I understand feeling overwhelmed. I’m sorry that all of this is hurting so much. Been there… and just sometimes, yeah, we just keep going until the smoke clears. Just giving it a few days, one thing off the list at a time

Yeah I needed to hear that thanks <3 sometimes I feel like I can’t handle it anymore.

God gives us each other for both easy times and harder times like these. What’re y’all doing this weekend, maybe we can get the kids together and play in the yard while the weather’s good (lol)

I would love that, let’s do it.

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How do we get through the storm?

We batten down the hatches and secure the ropes. We find a safe harbor and drop anchor until it passes. We wake up each morning and do each task one at a time. We accept help when it is offered and ask for it when it is needed. We nap and pray and go for walks and hug each other and buy fancy bread and journal and listen to birdsong and try to end difficult conversations with heads resting on shoulders.

We get by, with a little guidance from God and a little help from our family. Our neighbors. Our spouse. Our bestie. Our coworkers. Our children. Our church. Our creative muses. Our friends.

— khm —

(And, since this space is all about community and fellow humans and living life, what better place to share this incredible earworm I’ve been hosting ever since I penned the above doodle:

You’re welcome.)