Mickie McNamara: The Medalist!

Friday was awesome! I was awarded the Achievement Medal from the Department of the Army. When I arrived here four years ago I saw many of my colleagues had medals and plaques on their "I love me" walls. Often when visitors came to my office they said they expected to see framed degrees and medals on my wall. I am not the type to frame and hang degrees. In fact the only framed item I have hanging in a place of prominence is Hunter's first artwork from daycare. He painted the sun with his little fingers.

Hunter's first artwork (Excuse my polka dots in the refection!)

Secretly I longed for a medal of my own. After a few months I was given a certificate of appreciation. I came home pleased with myself. Ryan looked at me and then at the certificate. He said what you want is a certificate of achievement. That's something you can put on your resume. Ryan ends many of his sentences with: "Put that on your resume". I kept those words in mind. Taking on developmental assignments that would get me ready for that achievement certificate.

Earlier this year President Obama announced the Army was going into Liberia to assist with the Ebola crisis. The rest as they say is history. I ended up with the Achievement Medal for my efforts. It did not come with a certificate. I get that later, but my medal sure is pretty.

Now That's What I Call a Perk

My new boss is awesome. Ok she's not that new. She has been here for about six months now, but I think it takes about that look to get an authentic feel for someone's management style, and most importantly their vision. All that comes into clearer focus everyday. What makes working for her exciting is that I learn something new from her almost every single day.

A few weeks ago she shared a few copies of Outside magazine with me. Well share is probably not the most accurate way to describe what happened. I saw a magazine on her desk. It had titles of articles such as "The New Dream Jobs: Get Paid to Do What You Love" and "The Science of Fear: How to Thrive When Things Get Scary." If you know me then you know I was immediately interested in Outside magazine. She handed over a few copies that I stuffed somewhere in my cubicle because Liberia happened and was swamped.

She just got back from a trip toTanzania on Monday. It was a brief trip but, she was very interested in the places she saw and the people she met. She mentioned her new found interest in climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro. I have tons of goals and dreams, but climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro was not with one of them. It made think about the magazines stuffed in my cubicle. I opened and turned to a page that listed one of the perks at Fullcontact based in Denver is a $7, 500-per-year stipend to fund a vacation during which you must refrain from sending e-mail, making phone calls, and doing any work at all.

I pride myself on knowing my friends pretty well, and as far as I know none of you work at Fullcontact. Otherwise you would have told me about this amazing perk at your new job. Suffice it to say my new boss has already inspired me to new and exciting goals. Now that's a great boss!

The New Agent Orange

I have made lots of new and different types of friends since my arrival in Vicenza four years ago. The majority of them have the military in common. Many of them have stories to tell about the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan but don't, at least not to me. There are the one liners that remind me of the heavy toll a very small portion of the American population has endured over that last thirteen years. It is a fairly common experience during lunch to hear colleagues say things such as, "You know how it is spending hours in bunker after a mortar attack." Obviously not talking to me, but to each other.

Last week at a networking event, an Officer who was briefly my boss before I went on maternity leave, and I were chatting at a networking event. He is a tall, slender guy with features reminiscent of the comedian Jim Carey. We worked together for a very brief time, but in those few weeks we built an easy rapport. I was eyeing the attractive mini pizzas at the buffet while he subtlety averted his eyes. I gestured to the pimento olives, "The olives are terrific. You can have as many of those as you would like." He said yes, but looked less than excited at the prospect. I reminded him that I had suffered through my third trimester with gestational diabetes, and had some understanding of what he was going through as a diabetic. I asked if he was diagnosed with diabetes early in life, and whether or not it was hereditary. He answered no to both. Then added that he was diagnosed after his tours in  Iraq. "Perhaps it was the stress of combat," I said empathetically. That is when he said it: "Probably has something to do with being blown up up a few times." He continued, "or the food, or the burning oil fields, not sure. Diabetes is becoming very common among veterans of Iraq. It's the new agent orange. " He went on speaking, but I was so unnerved by the thought of him being blown up few times that I have no idea what else he said. I was standing there with someone who had been blown up and lived to tell about it. I'm still processing the reality of that.

He was talking about the cauliflower pizza he made that was not too bad. He used cauliflower as a substitute for flour which is mostly a no go for diabetics. By then I was thinking of ways to stop myself from asking the forbidden questions: How many times were you blown up? And when? And how? And where and are you ok? None of those questions are "allowed" because..well because it is impolite or unknowable or too heavy for a networking event with mini pizzas. I'm not quite sure I even want to know.

The presentation part of the event began with him as the emcee. I had a hard time looking at him because he has paid a high price to serve his country, and lives a reality far removed from mine. That knowledge widens the distance between us, and is a stark reminder of what it means to soldier on.

The Lean in Project

Midway through my pregnancy last year I listened to Sheryl Sandberg's book "Lean In. " It was both inspiring and motivational. In the book Sheryl suggests that given the opportunity women should always sit at the table and lean into the  discussion. Before my pregnancy I had no problem adhering to her advice, but as my pregnancy progressed I was not so quick to head to the table. I was trying to make room in my life for the baby and thought work needed to take a backseat in order to make that happen. The problem was I love my job and I have a solid reputation at work so, even when I didn't grab my seat at the table, my peers and mentors beckoned me to join.

There was a pivotal moment when a when a colleague spoke to me about an upcoming opportunity. There was a job opening up in another division and he told me I should consider applying. We were in my office, and I was guzzling ice water from a thermos. I constantly craved ice water when I was pregnant. As I considered the prospect of a new job,  I wondered how realistic it was for me to make a career move when my baby was due in a few weeks.

Then I thought of Sheryl Sanberg's advice and leaned in. I was not sure I would get the job, or even more daunting, start a new job with a brand new baby, but I knew I would try. I continued to sit at the table and raise my hand during meetings. I stayed actively engaged in my career throughout my pregnancy. When the baby came I took two and half months off work. While I on maternity leave, most of it unpaid, I received a job offer for what can best be described as an incredible stepping stone. It's not my dream job. I want to be careful not to characterize it as that, but it is an important resume builder for the dream job that I know is just around the corner.

With a new job on the horizon I focused on breast feeding which just did not go as well as I hoped. When I got tired of crying over both spilled and unspilled milk. I bought t the best powdered milk I ccould find.

Soon after starting the new job, an opportunity to go to Namibia arose. Namibia is one the places in Africa I am most curious about. I did not lean in on that one.  The baby was still too young to have a mother off in Southern Africa trying to save the world. Other opportunities will present themselves, and if it's right for my family, I'll be there.

When One Door Closes A Window Somewhere Opens

A few months ago a wise friend told me childcare would be an on going issue for years to come. She only said it a few months ago, but this issue has come up many times since she uttered those words. As you all know I had a baby in January. What most of you didn't know is that I have been on the waiting list for day care on post since NOVEMBER. Yes, I was on the waiting list since last year, before the baby was born. Childcare is that serious around here.

With very little hope around I came up with contingency plans. First just the three of us getting to know each other. Then my aunt came for three months during which time Ryan had to go to a class in the States for three weeks. My aunt was leaving in the middle of the three week stretch so Ryan's mom came to help out. We crossed our fingers, went to church, prayed and pleaded with the folks who run the daycare not to forget about us. Approximately halfway through Ryan's mother's visit another dear friend recommended her housekeeper as a nanny. I gave a her try for a few weeks while Ryan's mother was still here. She is great with Hunter, available and willing to be our nanny full time when Ryan's mother left.

Ryan's mother left on Wednesday and on Thursday the day care center called to say that after sitting on top of the waiting list for months a spot opened up. I had 24 hours to make a decision. We maintained our course. We forfeited our spot in favor of the nanny we carefully vetted for two months. Problem solved. I felt pretty good about myself until this morning.

This morning the nanny told me she had bad news. The factory job she had ten years ago wants her to come back to work for them, and she she's sorry but, she loved that job and is leaving. Yes after less than a week she's leaving. She offered her mom and friend as alternatives, but I was so mad I couldn't see straight.

I blurted out the whole sordid tale to my male companions at work, who to their credit listen attentively and offer solid advice most of the time. They strongly encouraged me to run over to the CDC and ask for  my spot back. Full of anxiety and tension, I ran into the director on the way inside. She asked what she could do to help. I was in obvious distress. They checked the roster and they have a spot for my baby. Not one for public displays of affection, I threw my arms around the director's shoulders and exhaled. Then squeezed her tight and sobbed for a few minutes. Yep, all this happened in the lobby. Quite the scene in my six-inch heels and mini dress! This mommy thing is often more than I bargained for in so many ways, but I love how much more expressive I have become. Who knew I could be even more dramatic...

Constant Craving

It feels like I have more decisions to make now that I have a baby to think about. Of course I made decisions before the baby but, now there are so many more. The ones I have to make about Hunter are often challenging. After four months of struggling with breastfeeding I decided to begin the weaning process. He's just not that into to it anymore, and breastfeeding is not one of those things you can force a kid to do. I tried pumping but, the reality is the less time you spend with baby the less milk mom will produce. It's one of those laws of nature.

Other big decisions are on the way. Up next the decision that I will make again and again for the next several years: CHILDCARE. Ryan's mother has been here since April, and my aunt was here before that so Ryan and I have had help almost everyday since we came  home from the hospital. With Gena's scheduled departure quickly approaching we have a few childcare options on the table. Unfortunately Ryan and I do not agree on the same option yet, but I am trying to get him there.

As for the working mom experience, there is a constant craving to quit and stay home with baby. I imagine this feeling will be my constant companion for years to come. Just this Sunday faced with the decision to entrust my child to a stranger, I vividly fantasized about telling my boss I had to quit because I couldn't leave my baby with a babysitter. No matter how I arranged the words in my mouth, they sounded ridiculous coming out. The fact is there are hundreds of thousands of mothers working outside the home and perhaps many more at home raising their childeren. I am not advocating for one or the other. Simply trying to find a way to give my son the best I have to offer through the example I live.

My family can provide more for my son with two incomes, and I want him to grow up with mom that has a career. The jury is still out on which childcare option we will choose, but I know we will make the best decision we can.

My first Mother's Day

The weather has been unpredictable. To sidestep a potential Mother's Day washout, we celebrated Mother's Day yesterday, Saturday May 10. I volunteered to plan the day, and Ryan was so grateful. Planning something special for the two most important women in his life, his mother and I, had him worried.

The three of us went to our favorite restaurant in Venice, La Patatina and then to one of my favorite museums, The Peggy Guggenheim Museum. I went there for the first time in 2009. It is a wonderful little museum in her former home. This was Hunter's first of many visits to a museum.

This morning I took him to church for the first time. He was very calm and interested in all the new sights and sounds. I hope he will continue to find deep comfort in going to church.

The Business of Childbirth

Hunter Patrick McNamara made his grand entrance into the world on Friday, February 24 at the Birthing Center on base. He arrived one day before his due date. I finally stopped working the Tuesday before he was born. I was still panicked about leaving my job, but when I stepped outside my building that Tuesday evening the most beautiful sunset greeted me.  There is nothing in the world quite like an Italian sunset. I took it as a very good omen.

My first day at home on maternity leave was uneventful. I was tired and slept through most of it. The fun started on Thursday. I woke up with an unusual burst of energy. I remembered reading that late pregnancy hormones trigger a boost right before the onset of labor. I knew it would be soon, but I did not know how soon.

I was looking forward to the end of my pregnancy. I was very uncomfortable and the restrictive diet was annoying, but I was also apprehensive about labor even though I opted for the controversial epidural. I ran a few errands on Thursday feeling accomplished. This is where my memory gets blurry. I remember Ryan made hot wings for dinner, then a dream about throwing up said hot wings. I woke up gagging. When I sat up I felt my water break.

Here I can do a bit of myth busting for the uninitiated in the business of childbirth. Apparently as in most things, every woman is different. When my water broke it was not nearly as dramatic as I have seen it portrayed on tv. I expected a water ballon break on concrete from three-story window. My experience was nothing of the sort. It was more like my water began to seep out. Some leakage here..some leakage there. Once the surprise subsided, I noticed the relief.

I called the nurses at the clinic. They said I should take my time to come in because I was not having contractions. We arrived about an hour later. It was 0530 (Army time). After a few hours of nothing happening, the doctors induced me and warned me that I was in for a very long day. Almost as if on cue, my cervix began to dilate. What was supposed to be several hours of hard labor suddenly became two. It was the fastest two hours of my life. The nurses in the room were very excited. They were all telling me to get ready to push.

The moment I feared was upon me, and I was terrified. I told Ryan to call a close friend, and then another close friend who happens to be a Chaplain. Then I started to cry. I was never so afraid of anything in my entire life. I wanted another few weeks to prepare, maybe attend a few more birthing classes, read more about newborns, cribs, etc. The nurses rallied around me, providing assurances that I was ready and that I could do it. Then it was time to push.

Fortunately the epidural worked very well, and after about an hour of pushing, Hunter Patrick McNamara was born. This picture was taken a few days after. And yes, he is incredibly tasty.

My Ongoing Relationship with Work

There are things I absolutely love about my job. Most of all is the sense of purpose and the paycheck it provides. I am having a hard time giving up both, even temporarily. My due date is next Saturday. Most people are surprised to know I am still working,  especially considering the time spent in "lockup." At the end of each OB visit, the Silver Fox, asks, "Are you still working outside the home?" When he asked a few months ago I replied with great pride, "Yes, I work outside the home!" This is probably a good time to describe the typical military lifestyle.

Most American women living in Vicenza are associated with the military base. The majority of them are married to active duty soldiers. Because the Army provides for their basic needs such as housing and utilities, most of them choose not to work. Their age, the average age is 23, lack of work experience and inability to work off the military installation enforce their decision not to seek employment. All this to say most of the American women, even the ones who do not necessarily meet the aforementioned demographic do not work. In this respect I am a bit of an anomaly that I proudly own.

In a recent discussion with my father he summed it succinctly, "I spent too much money on your education to have you waste it." I agree. Then there are those few friends and colleagues who regale me with their tales of working right up to the day they gave birth. The first time I heard a woman say that it sounded crazy, but the more I heard it the more I felt I could join the club, and later felt I should join the club. With just a little over a week left in my pregnancy most people including the Silver Fox are surprised, dismayed even to know I am still working.

The thing is I drive to work and sit at my desk for most of the day. I do not lift or operate heavy machinery. My biggest challenge is walking down the hall to the bathroom, and I have succeeded in getting there every single time. The problem is that some days work can be stressful, and most importantly I am very tired all of the time.

I finally resolved to begin my maternity leave next week, but felt so apprehensive about doing so that convinced myself to come in on Tuesday to wrap things up. I love my job! I don't want to stop working! But I am having my baby soon and I need to get physically as well as emotionally ready. A colleague who had her baby in June asked how my husband feels about me still working. I replied that he is completely aware of who he married. He trusts my judgement to decide when  it is appropriate for me to stop working. He respects and possibly loves my fierce independence. He is not interested in curbing or impeding that. All that being said, next week will be my last week at work until after the baby is here. Yes, I am going back to work after the baby. It is good for the baby to have two working parents. Not only for the financial security, but also to build his own work ethic.

The Best Made Plans

I had high hopes for this weekend. Especially today, Saturday. It has been a rough week, filled with highs and lows and lots in between. Because of my gestational diabetes diagnosis, and my advanced age..my doctor wants to see me twice a week for fetal monitoring until I give birth.  I am required to go to the clinic, climb into a bed, be hooked up to a machine that monitors the baby's heart for 40 minutes twice a week.

I balked at the idea that the Silver Fox, that's what I call my doctor, thought I had 40 spare minutes in my day, twice a week to lay around at the clinic. I had my second session on Friday and it was so nice to have a break in the middle of the morning to put my feet up and listen to my little guy's heart beat for 40 minutes.  This was another lesson in the changing priorities in my life.

I waddled back to work after; all the nurses thinking I was going home. I am not quite ready to stop working. I should be, but I'm not. My job is such a large part of my life and it is odd to think about not having the challenges and opportunities that come with it. I know I have new set of challenges waiting for me when the baby comes, but he is not here yet.

I have been feeling good this week. Tired and uncomfortable, but believing that it would be perfectly reasonable for me to to go the mall to look at Italian baby strollers that just happen to be on sale this month. Everything is on sale this month in Italy. Italians make so many beautiful things, and strollers are no exception. Along with my trip to the mall I added a matinee at the movie theater on post to my plans for the day. Last night before bed, I fantasized about the sense of accomplishment I would feel at the end of today.

When I woke up with vomit surging up my esophagus in the middle of the night I was confused. It felt like a nightmare, but clearly I was awake, and those nachos refused to stay put. I hate throwing up. Not just the heaving, but I worry about the damage the acid will due to my teeth and gums. Pregnant women have vulnerable teeth and gums. I brushed and rinsed with Listerine knowing my father would be proud.

I stumbled back to bed in a cold sweat. Ryan whispered that the nachos he made for me were probably not a good idea so late at night before drifting back to sleep. I slept until 2:30. I did not go to the mall or the movies. I started watching the tv show Girls instead. It is the new Sex and the City, except the girls are in their 20s instead of their 30s. At one point I turned to Ryan and said that we always go out with friends and rarely alone on dates. I was reciting lines from the show, "Are we even dating? Is this relationship going anywhere?!" He turned to look at me, chuckled and said umm ok, then went back building his model tank. We are way beyond dating, but those outbursts sure are fun!