# 16 The Gift of Being Present

Slowing down, being exactly where you are, and minimizing mental and technological distractions are the essence of being truly present. This is a value Andrew and I practice in our family. Being present with those first few moments with our new daughter and each other as new co-parents is something important to us both. While we are excited to share Genevieve with her family, our friends, and the world she is about to enter, we too plan to cherish that initial time slowly and exactly as we want to without worrying about the wants of others. 

Since I am being induced, I have a scheduled date and time that the process will begin for Genevieve's arrival. We have chosen not to share that information with family, but rather gave them a window of the week to expect her joining us. I can say, this is partially due to the response of some who seem to be bracing for complications in delivery and the worry they're attaching to it. While I empathize with their genuine love and concern, I do not wish to make that energy part of those early moments and will not be rushing to update them on a play-by-play basis of the likely long induction process. If they had a date for induction, I know some would be waiting with baited breath and I would feel guilty or more compelled to be on my phone and answering the questions as it relates to THEIR needs rather than focusing on the needs of Andrew, Genevieve, and myself. And in those first hours as a new parent I plan to be selfishly and fully present with our nuclear family. 

Something I have done since Tucker was sick with stomach tumors is practice using my senses to connect with the present. Tucker's condition progressed rapidly with symptoms developing, his diagnosis, and passing without euthanasia all occurring in less than seven days. I would get on the ground with him and just be with him. I would look at him and simply watch the way his chest raised and fell as he breathed under my hand stroking his fur. I would feel how soft his coat was beneath my palm. I would smell the top of his head which mingled the scent of vanilla shampoo and earthiness. And I would listen to the soft snores as he rested near me. I would not allow the negative thoughts of "whats going to happen and when" encroach on those moments. I did not have my phone to take a picture or video or to passively peruse while being with him. No, I was simply BEING with him. And as I wrote the description above I could close my eyes and remember him exactly as he was. Exactly as we were. I did this with Leonidas as well--I will never forget that cedar-smelling head and the way his eyes, which often darted from discomfort would settle and focus into my gaze. Or the delicate feeling of his raised paw gently settling on my bent knee and his pad's roughness as it rested on my leg to open his chest up for rubbing. 

Being present is a practice, I believe that helps us minimize regret and the feeling of missing out. In a society where an overly saturated schedule and multitasking are admired and valued, being truly present is lost. Everything passes in a blur and the mind is already on to the next thing. By slowing down, removing technology and mental distractions we can more deeply appreciate the present moment, which IS truly where life happens. I am not someone who comments on missing a certain time, or who says how fast time flies because I am consciously trying to be present with what is before me in each moment and stage of life. Do I multitask or use technology or do other things passively? Absolutely. But NOT during important moments. Not when I know my time is limited with the dogs. Not during dinner where there ought to be a moment for connection each day. And definitely not when I am experiencing my daughter and being a mother for the first time. 

Boundaries are wholly important to the process of being present. These boundaries first begin with yourself. The biggest distraction we have is our mind and quieting it can be no easy task. I like to consider thoughts in one of two visual capacities: clouds passing in the sky or a river current running through you. Essentially this visual allows you to neutrally acknowledge the presence of the thought (like you would the cloud or water) but you are not judging it or considering it (and definitely not acting on it). Instead you allow the wind or current to carry it away and minimally acknowledge it as in the background. Will the thought of texting new grandparents pop in my mind? Of course. But I will let guilt or that thought pass and know when the time is right that naturally there will be space to send that message. Similarly will pain or fear occupy my mind? Absolutely, but I can help acknowledge and let those things pass without holding them close. I've already asked Andrew, my coach, to think of a cloud if he notices fear or pain are occupying space for too long. 

Boundaries with others is also important. This means clear communication. For those familiar with the enneagram, I am an eight--a challenger. One characteristic that most eights share is that they are good at setting boundaries. It is naturally easier for me to express what I need or want to someone. This is not the case of everyone but the more you practice using that muscle the easier it becomes. Similarly, if you are establishing boundaries with people who are not used to this, you should expect blowback or people to challenge you on those things. It is important to remember that there are two types of boundaries: those made of a stone wall and those with a gate. Knowing the difference is very important. If something is a stone-wall boundary then you will not bend on it. For example, a stonewall boundary for me was no out-of-town company until at least 3 weeks after Genevieve's arrival. That was not inherently met with universal support. No amount of asking or reasoning would make me bend in the other direction. A gated boundary is something that you have more leniency with. So this is something that you've ironed out, but when someone comes back with a compromise you may find that works as well. In that instance, revising your boundary to the place of compromise is a good idea. For example, when discussing scheduling my induction date with our doctor she had suggested an earlier date--still in the 38 week range but earlier on. I expressed wanting to allow her to bake a bit longer and advocated a later date. My doctor then agreed to that date. The boundary we were both aligned to was induction in week 38, but the specific date had some room for discussion. 

While in the process of labor and delivery, I do not want to have on my mind preoccupied. I don't want to overly fixate on pain and discomfort, or the idea that friends and family need to be updated on where we are in the process. Or think "it is taking forever and they're worried we need to touch base." Nor do I want Andrew's attention in that direction. Instead, I would rather have my attention and Andrew's on the actual birthing process. This is why I set the boundary about not sharing the actual date and time of induction. No one will know that we are actively in labor to be worried about the timeline or expecting an update. That means during the golden hour we can BE with Genevieve in mind and body. Then of course when we are settled in our room we can share her arrival with friends and family. One of the greatest gifts I hope to give to Genevieve is a life and environment that is present-minded, and that begins at her birth.