Dear Life. You're Hard.

Dear Life. You're Hard.

Dear life. You are hard sometimes. I entered the house today full of energy in the pit of my stomach. I had just ended a work phone call and repeated part of the conversation in my head as I passed the threshold into the house.

The person at the other end of the line, who I had never met, must have picked up on my excess energy. “Hanna, this happens all the time. No big deal.”, he said referring to my response to a slight change in the process.

So this is what I’ve become, I thought, a person with no margin for inefficiencies and beating myself up for being imperfect. I’m reading a book written from the perspective of the main character, who also happens to have autism (The Rosie Project). I cant help but wonder if my lack of sleep and inability to handle change has triggered a dormant autism gene that I’ve been carrying around just waiting to wake up.

I’ll sum up my last 4 months in a few words- overwhelmed, depressed, loving, worried, inept, concerned, loving, scared, insecure, productive, loving, tired, loving, patient, and impatient… and still loving.  I think that’s what having kids will do to a person.  You are a tired emotional and lack-of-emotion version of yourself. 

After making dinner, glorified grilled cheese (‘glorified’ because we used good cheese and added a fresh tomato), I felt like second guessing everything. Was working the right decision for our family? Did I choose the right daycare? What was I thinking having a baby (I have no clue how to be a parent)? Why did I eat feta cheese during pregnancy? Will I ever sleep through the night? Are Amelia’s lungs okay? Will I ever sleep in past 6am again? Why did I wear these shoes today? Did I handle my last meeting good enough? Did I spend enough time with Amelia today?  How come I’m not praying more?  Excreta excreta….

If I allow myself to step back, even if for a brief moment, I can see that life would feel hard to someone in my shoes (no matter which ones I decided to wear today). And instead of second-guessing myself after a long-imperfect-not-as-planned day, I could choose to go easy on myself. 

I’ve had 33 years to get experience being Hanna, and 11 years of experience of being Brandon’s wife, and 18 years experience being a worker, and 6 years of experience practicing being kind to myself. I have to remember that experience builds confidence. So I’m not going to get confidence in this new role as mom if all I do is tell myself I’m sucky or not good enough.  Brandon reminds me to make a decision for what works today and if we need to change it tomorrow we can.  He’s right.

Today instead of repeating a story of how things didn’t go as planned or how I couldn’t master every aspect of being wife, mom, worker person… Maybe I need to celebrate my glorified grilled cheese and be thankful I have a loving husband and cutie baby.  And at the end of each day, even though I’m super tired, I’m making tiny deposits into gaining confidence and discovering a new normal.

A photo posted by Hanna Koenig (@hannaksays) on Jun 22, 2015 at 10:08am PDT

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Mary the Swimmer

Mary the Swimmer

This is Mary. She’s driven in quiet ways. She has a mental and physical toughness that shows up in triathlons and in coaching triathletes. But when it comes to relationships that toughness shows up as kindness and love. She’s patient and thoughtful…. And also has a soft spot for puppies and babies :).  A few months ago I asked some smart women to respond to a question to post on this blog.  Mary wrote about her journey with injury forcing her to take time off from racing in triathlons.  (Oh! And if you happen to be an athlete, at any level, and need a good coach: I STRONGLY recommend Mary. She's good.) Enjoy reading about Mary's journey below.

They say life is a roller coaster and it’s no different with me.  I was an avid triathlete for a number of years.  Representing the USA for a few World Championship races (in Switzerland, Australia, New Zealand, and Florida) in Olympic and ½ Ironman distances was the icing on the cake.  I love this sport, from the training, to the races, the culture, and most of all, the people.  So last year when I was told to stop running due to multiple injuries in my back and knee, I thought ok, it’ll be short term and I can still race later in the year.  A long story short, it’s been almost a year and a half and I still can’t run. 

It’s been a tough year dealing with this loss, even though I was never a huge fan of running. My relationship with running was always a tumultuous one, but when someone says I can’t do something, I often want to do it even more.  So yes, I can still swim, and I’ve been biking some, but what most don’t understand is that not competing in triathlons has created a bit of an identity crisis for me. If I’m not a triathlete, what am I?  It sounds silly, I know.  I realize I’m blessed with a wonderful family and friends, but unfortunately, I’ve often felt lost without my athletic endeavors. To shed a little light on this, I competed in my first swim meet when I was just 4.  I loved it so much, and worked so hard, that it ended up paying for my 4 years at the University of Illinois. So, this is not my first identity crisis.  It took a couple years for me to get over not being ‘Mary the swimmer’, or as some called me, ‘Fish’ after college.  I thought coaching a swim team soon upon graduation would help. It did, a little. I swam some laps on occasion, but that experience was nowhere near that of swimming with a high school or collegiate team. Luckily I found my way through this…via triathlon. It was a new challenge and I still was able to stick with my passion of swimming. 

So here I am, trying to find my way again. Logically, yes, I am more than a competitor. I am a mom, wife, friend, and coach, but this is a lifestyle change and that is HUGE.  Flipping that along with my mindset and body changes is not something which can dealt with in a short period time. It’s a loooong process full of ups and downs. In the end, it’s just life. It’s not supposed to run smoothly or as expected/planned all the time, but at 43, I never thought my body would not allow me to function/not function like this. I am too young right?  Ha!

Training smart was always a theme with me too. I took more time off every season than most triathletes (usually 2-3 months, completely off all disciplines)!  I was very good to my body and never over-trained. Also, being a triathlete was great cross training so where did I go wrong?  Well, suspicion is that possibly my pregnancy with my twins may have been the impetus as that puts much pressure on the spine.  (I was on bed rest my last 8 weeks and keep in mind, S&C were a week late)!  Certainly my bike accident a few years ago was the main culprit, but the newsflash is I found my body is awesome at compensating for injuries as my initial pain was in the back, the next year it was in my hip, and last year in my knee. Logically, my doctors just figured I was injuring different things from year to year so we’d try to treat those things. Last spring though, my running biomechanics coach, Janet Smith-Leet, made the suggestion that my back injury from a few years ago may be the culprit for the hip and knee pain experienced.  Shortly after, a doctor confirmed her theory.  (And no, I didn’t tell this guy her theory). So although the pains I had were very real, it’s because my body was compensating for the issues in my back.  Wow. Bad luck, just bad luck. Nothing can be done about that so it’s just onward and upward.  And although I have my occasional self-pity party, I am not unhappy with my life at all. I’m super healthy, my life is wonderful in most ways and I have, and always will, take time for the little things in life as I appreciate them greatly.  I’m just a little lost with my identity, but I will continue to fight my way through life’s unending roller coasters and mazes. Thankfully I enjoy change, I just wish my body and it’s ailments weren’t the things changing as they prohibit me from enjoying some of what I love. Fortunately, family comes first so they, and my friends & jobs, help keep me happy.  Off to make more lemonade!!! 

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Faint of Heart

Faint of Heart

After 3 days the tube was removed from Amelia's chest.  I anticipated hard and hard is what Brandon and I got.  Watching our 3 month old baby cry in pain from surgery, gaze around the room a little high on morphine, and squirm in a hospital bed unable to be held was hard hard.  When the tube was finally removed I picked up my baby and she leaned into my shoulder.  The weight of her body settled into mine and I knew I was holding my puzzle piece.  Two different shapes that fit together.

Four weeks post surgery and Amelia is doing awesome.  I'm grateful. We have a healthy little baby who is growing right before our eyes! 

And now the real rhythm of life sets in. The train of visitors has left, the dinners from neighbors have run out, and the anxiety from knowing our baby needs surgery has come and gone.  So Brandon, Amelia and I are here learning how to be a family of three.

Yesterday marked 11 (perfect parallel prime number) years of marriage for Brandon and I.  We've had more than a decade to work through junk and learn how to be together.  We've been to the counseling sessions and talked about our family of origin stuff but now with the introduction of Amelia, it's like we've taken a turn (at least I have).  Our high school immature selves have made a special appearance during some of our not so proudest arguing moments. The mean insecure Hanna shuts down, throws her armor up, and pushes Brandon away.  I'm a real joy to be around.  But here's what is really going on (I think): I'm scared that I don't know how to be a wife and a mother at the same time.  I don't know how to work some, clean some, cook some, be a wife some, be a mother some, and then find time to exercise and take care of me some.  I don't know how to advocate for my own time all that well.  With every free minute I scroll through the long list of things to get done and am constantly prioritizing. What needs done first? What needs done now? If something doesn't get done, will I pay for it later? And then when I get tired I point my questions towards Brandon- why inst he doing more?  Why doesn't he use his time better?  Why am I the only one who keeps things going?  Did I mention how great I am to be around when I'm like this?!  It's a real party over here.

And if that's not good enough, I start thinking of Amelia.  And one of the scariest things is that somewhere along the line Brandon and I will inflict our family of origin stuff on Amelia. And then somewhere along the line we'll hope and pray that she has enough positive tools to help pull her out of any junk we throw on her. 

I don't remember hearing my friends with kids talk about this stuff- maybe because it's so deeply personal that people don't usually share it.  Or maybe I'm having an abnormally hard time learning.  In either instance Brandon and I have to learn how to be with each other while still being with a baby.  We have to learn how to still love each other well when we're over tired, lacking confidence, and out of sync. We've had to get better at apologizing quicker.  And sometimes we've had to enter into a restart agreement where we just retry to have the conversation again, only be kinder to each other.  Being married isn't for the faint of heart...But neither is having a kid.

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Three Weeks into Motherhood

Three Weeks into Motherhood

Walking into our first pediatrician appointment for Amelia on day three of her life was scary.  I had a diaper bag stuffed with free samples of who-knows-what, unopened wipes, and back up clothes that were two sizes too big for Amelia hanging on my shoulder.  I felt phoney.  I couldn't even figure out how to adjust the shoulder strap on the bag so I was wearing it tight on my arm and stuffed up my armpit.  When the lady at the front desk asked the name and date of birth of my daughter I paused on the word 'daughter' and hoped she didn't notice.  I have a daughter.

How did this happen with me feeling so under prepared for motherhood?  I spent more time worrying about what to pack in my hospital bag than what it would be like to be a mother of a daughter.

I guess I thought when the time came, I would just figure it out.  What I didn't realize was how incredibly depleted I would be.  And how the lack of sleep and the toll of labor would impart permanent dark circles under my eyes and leave my mind in an even foggier haze than the 9 months leading to this point.  My world had been rocked by a 7lb 1oz person.  I was in love and confused and overwhelmed.

At the deepest most vulnerable level I felt (and feel) inadequate to be a mother. I'm only three weeks into being a mom and the title of mother is like wearing a underwear that is too small- or too big.  Either way I'm getting extra fabric bunching where it shouldn't or I'm wondering if my crack is getting longer.  Some days I need more margin in my life to deal with a newborn and other days feel like I'm sagging.  

But regardless of my mood in the moment, I've come to hang onto a few truths.  In the (almost) three weeks of Amelia's life, I've learned:

To remind myself (or a good friend reminds me) that I'm the mother of this baby on purpose- not by accident.  That, for some reason, God decided to put Amelia with Brandon and I.  And that makes me feel a little more confident.  

The goal of being a mother isn't perfection, it's being whole and teaching a little girl to live wholly.  

I'm still me and I can still do things that help me be me.  Today I baked banana bread and went on a walk.  Real life still happens. 

Being a mother is less about living up to my self-prescribed expectations and more about providing a safe place for Amelia to be Amelia.  

I'm allowed to have hard days.  And I'm allowed to cry when it's hard.

I won't have motherhood figured out by tomorrow.  Learning how to be Amelia's mom will take time and patience.  

I have to be gentle with myself and rest. 

Oh- and the contents of the diaper bag are overrated- Amelia will survive regardless of how well I pack (or don't pack) back up wipes.

Happy mother's day to all the hot mommas out there!

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Ticking Time Bomb

Ticking Time Bomb

Today is the day that Doctors guessed Amelia would arrive.  It's 2:03pm and she still hasn't made her appearance to the world. It's at this point that I'm starting to feel like a ticking time bomb. 

For anyone who has ever waited quietly for your life to change, you understand the spectrum of wild thoughts that come with that. Feeling reflective I decided to write a few of the things I've learned from a season of my body taking on the momentous task of growing a person.

Sometimes the plot you imagine isn't the one you get.  

That's how the past nine months have been- not what I imagined. I'm due with a daughter any day now and this entire pregnancy isn't the story I thought I would get.  I'm not complaining. At all.  I'm grateful for this season whatever it has brought and will bring.  I didn't think we would have a difficult time getting pregnant, I didn't think I would be worried about my daughter's health to this extent, I didn't think I would wonder if she would be able to breathe when she's born, or if her heart would work.  And I didn't think I would experience a such a closeness to God.

My mind powers don't have control over my body. 

I thought I would be able to think my way into labor.  I decided at Easter that we would have an Easter baby.  I prepared like she would come on the day I decided.  I was wrong.  Ten days post my made-up due date and I'm just settling into the idea of trusting my body...the cosmos...God...because I'm now at the mercy of mother nature's timing.  Insert Mr. Miyagi from Karate Kid saying to me: Patience, young grasshopper.

Being pregnant actually slows you down.

I thought I'd be able to do everything I used to do only I'd just be bigger.  I was wrong. My body has slowed down to turtle speed and I have to respect it's pace.  I have never ever loved watching television so much in my life! 

This is real life.

This isn't a drill.  This is actually our daughter, who we care about.  The world got scarier when we learned that our sweet girl had a mass in her chest and she was later diagnosed with a CCAM in her lower left lung lobe.  I remember sitting in the car next to Brandon on that sunless gray November day.  We were both frozen in place- not from the weather but from not knowing how to move forward.  My eyes puffed up from a helpless rhythm of crying, wiping with old Starbucks napkins left in the car console, and then smearing my mascara from my cheeks. We have entered the scary realities of what it means to be a parent and worry about your child.

I'm beautiful. 

My body has taken on new curves and shapes.  I like the way it looks.  It's like a new strange planet that I inhabit everyday.  I'm still not used to my over-sized belly or my puffy ankles but they've taken on interesting shapes that seem endearing and likable.  Like a Picasso painting with out-of-proportion features, I sometimes stare at my belly in unbelief: our baby is in there.

I'm vulnerable. 

I have come to realize (what feels to me like) irrational fears.  My fears are as follows: I have become very scared of getting hit by a car when I'm crossing the street, getting hit by a car while I'm in a car, and finally, falling down the stairs and landing in an a tangled mess, reaching down and feeling a hand coming out of me and not realizing I'm giving birth.  Not being physically 100% has left me with a brain full of worry scenarios.  It's strange.  I've also become clingy to Brandon.  And I want to be home a lot.

I see Brandon differently.

This has been a happy time for Brandon and I.  We have seen each other in new ways- and loved each other in a new light.  I’m seeing sides of him for the first time and I never realized they were there.  I look at him and realize his eyes are a different shade of blue, and his thoughts are deeper, and his heart is tender.  He's stronger.  I never saw those things at such proximity before. I know they've always been there but they look different now. 

Flexibility is over-rated.

Putting on socks has become a daily struggle.  I cant lean over. My belly blocks me out from reaching my feet.  Leaning over the sink to wash my face in the evenings has started to feel like a Pilates move.  I need to use momentum to climb out of bed.  And pull-through spots when driving are literally life-savers so I don't have to turn around to check my blind spots when backing out.

I've joined society as a contributor. 

When I am out in the public I realize that I'm now a contributor to society.  I'm making a person.  During my pre-pregnancy days, I was a recipient of childbirth.  But now, I'm actually joining a larger part of humanity by being a part of this process.

I have no plans. 

A quiet waiting season for the past week has been overwhelmingly good- and intensely scary.  As I was doing random projects around the house preparing for baby, I realized: I have no plans for the rest of my life.  I don't know how my job will change, we don't have any vacations planned, and I don't even have meetings set up.  My calendar for the rest of my life is wide open. Weird.

Hobbies saved my soul. 

I've been coming down from a season where work was my hobby.  It was all I thought about, dreamed about, and obsessed about. I'm grateful for the past year when I've had to invest energy in discovering, 'what do I like to do?' During these past 40 weeks, I've found myself leaning into baking, listening to music, writing, walking, reading, and taking photos (...just to name a few) like never before.  I've needed something to 'do' while my inside world didn't quite feel like me. 


Life is sweet.  And weird.  But it's been good.  Thanks for reading about some of what I've learned over the past months.  More to come once Amelia is born! 

Woot!

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5 Lessons Learned From Cooking Dinner

5 Lessons Learned From Cooking Dinner

This is Rena.  You can call her "Rena Beana" or "Renes Beans"--she responds well to fun-loving terms of endearment! Rena is a problem solver. She likes finding broken things and turning them into something pretty and useful. She's an artist that way. She just had an incredible year of change. Parts of her life were not allowing Rena to be Rena- so she changed those parts. I respect that.  She's fiercely independent and wonderfully creative. Recently her creativity has been coming out with the medium of food.  You can follow her show of creativity on instagram. And you can read about what's she's learned from turning into a foodie below. (I've been asking smart women to share their life stories- you can read about my intentions here.)

Within a five week period, I quit my job to become a freelancer, married the man of my dreams and moved to the biggest city in the U.S., New York City. It was a whirlwind of change and a dream come true! I was going to live in the Big City. I had dreams of going to museums, fancy restaurants, strolling the streets in fashion and being at coffee shops with celebrities, but those dreams haven’t come true. Instead, my world has been opened up to something I wasn’t expecting. 

Even with endless city life entertainment, something was off. When I started to do freelance work, my work hours started to recognize that my boundaries were starting to slip away. I started to work seven days a week including some nights. But that’s New York. Work Hard, Play Hard. BUT just because this is a lifestyle some live, its not the lifestyle I wanted to live.

I needed to do something that would bring joy back into my life and would allow me to be more intentional in my marriage. So, my husband and I started to cook dinner. Because of this simple change, we have not only learned about food, but we have learned so much about each other.

Here are 5 lessons we have learned from cooking dinner:

Simplify. We live in a culture where excess is normal. The more we have, the better off we are. Moving to New York changed that for us. Because we live in such a small space and have to walk to the grocery store, we have learned to simplify. We are only two people. We don’t need much. So now, we are leaning to cook less and/or use leftovers in creative ways.

Explore. We try making new foods together. I used to be extremely picky. I would hardly eat meat and a frozen dinner was my best friend. But now, because we are intentional about cooking dinner and trying new things. Whether it’s combining ingredients or trying a new vegetable, we are exploring new flavors and discovering new recipes.

Create. Dinnertime has become our place of creation. We use our plates as a canvas. We may not have time to paint, but since we make dinner, we spend time making it look awesome on the plate. There something fun and creative about serving a pretty plate that brings joy to our hearts. 

Boundaries. With our schedules, we could easily pass up dinner and grab things on the go. But David and I have been extremely intentional about eating dinner together. We make sure to shut down our work email and eat together. Its a now a routine, and a special time we spend together everyday. 

Dream. When we eat together, we dream together. We talk about what our lives will be like years down the road and all the “what if’s” you can imagine. Its been healthy. Because of our conversations, we have discovered fears, joys, hope and dreams that we never knew about each other. And even though the dream of “New York Life’ was not what we expected, it’s opened up our eyes to discover new dreams together.

I never expected dinner being something of significance, but because of the simple act of making dinner time intentional, we are healthier, we are more joyful, and our marriage has grown stronger.

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Spring Cleaning

Spring Cleaning

This is Sue.  She is a unique mix of creative and organized.  She takes some of the most complicated direction I've ever seen and then she graphically designs it to be beautiful and intentional. (I'm eternally jealous of her graphic design skills.)  Sue also grows. Some people get stale and resist change. Sue isn't one of those people- she leans into big challenges.  She rally's and bolsters her soul and moves forward, even when things are hard.  I like that about her.  I wanted to know Sue's thoughts on an event that happened to her last year: her mom passed away. (I've been asking friends to write thoughts. You can read my intentions here). Read on to learn more about Sue's thoughts.

This summer I lost my mom to breast cancer. From the time we brought her to the ER for extreme pain in her hips to the day she passed away was a little over 3 weeks. We had no idea that she had stage-four cancer. It took the doctors 10 days to diagnosis her. They couldn’t determine where the cancer started because it had spread throughout her whole body. One day in the hospital as I sat next to her holding her hand she said to me, “What would I have done without you?” to which I replied, trying not to cry, “What will I do without you?” It has been the hardest season of my life to walk through…and I am still walking through it.  

My mom and I had a unique and special relationship. We literally lived together our whole lives (I’m 43, married and have 2 kids). When I got married over 11 years ago, my amazing husband knew that my mom was part of the package. It sounds weird, I know! But in many cultures outside of the United States it is normal to have your parents live with you. We have been blessed to have my mom be a part of our daily lives all of these years.

While our kids were off of school for Spring Break, we signed them up for a nature camp with their cousins so that my husband and I could go through my mom’s room and clean it out. We had left her room the way it was the day we took her to the ER in July. I’m not sure if 7 months is too long to wait to do that, but I’m learning that mourning the loss of a loved one is very personal and there is no right or wrong way to grieve. I felt that it was the right time to tackle this sort of “Spring Cleaning.” It was a very draining week, but also a healing week. Not only did we completely clear out, clean and empty her room but I was also able to cleanse and refresh my soul.

This “Spring Cleaning” reminded me who my mom was, what was important to her and helped me answer my question of what I will do without her.

My mom saved EVERYTHING! I found every ticket stub from her grandchildren’s dance shows, piano recitals, school performances, as well as every drawing, card or craft they ever made her. She lived for and loved her grandchildren so much. She loved watching them excel in their talents and she supported and encouraged them to pursue their God-given gifts. I remember she did this with me as well growing up. She saw my interest in, and eye for, photography as a high school student and she bought me my first zoom lens. She loved to accompany me on many nature photo shoots. She didn’t understand what a graphic designer was as my chosen career, but she saved my first business card (that I actually found as a bookmark in one of her books). She was always so proud of all of us and was our number one cheerleader. I want to emulate her as I raise my kids, supporting and encouraging them to pursue and develop their God-given talents.

My mom loved to read. It was her passion and profession. She was our elementary school librarian. She would bring home old books that were being discarded and would rescue books from garage sales. She loved to read to my sister and me when we were little, and then to her grandchildren, fueling our love for books and reading. When she couldn’t get around easily the past few years, she would send me to the library with a list of favorite authors and I would delight in the look on her face as I lugged a huge bag of books into the house for her. Needless to say, she had a ton of books to go through. I found special treasures in a lot of these books (pressed leaves, family photos, little notes or cards, homemade bookmarks, etc.). I hope I can keep this love of reading and books going in our house.

Traditions and family were very important to my mom. She was 100% German and loved teaching us all of her favorite traditions, like celebrating St. Nicholas Day on Dec. 6th by putting our boots out to be filled with little treats. Or lighting Christmas German incense smokers, or counting down the days of Advent with her hand sewn felt Advent calendars. Food was an important part of her traditions. During our cleaning I found all of her recipe books. I am lucky to have watched and learned from her how to make a lot of her favorite German meals, and I am excited to teach them to my kids. On her birthday this past January, I decided to start a new tradition in her honor. I didn’t want her birthday to be filled with sadness (although, of course we miss her greatly). I wanted to celebrate who she is and was to us. So I made her favorite German meal (brats, red cabbage and dumplings) and picked up a small cake that said “Happy Birthday Oma.” Oma is the German word for Grandma and what we called her. At dinner we went around the table talking about the things we each loved doing with her, from building Legos together to painting nails, or playing board games and going to special tea outings. Making memories and keeping up traditions with family is something that I will gladly continue.

Spring-cleaning my mom’s room helped me resolve the unanswered question from the hospital 7 months ago. I am not truly without her. Living with her my whole life—she is just a part of me. We shared and experienced so much together. Her legacy continues through me, and what I am passing down to my kids. And as this Easter season approaches I am so thankful that I have hope and peace knowing that my mom is celebrating in heaven the power of resurrection with Jesus and that one day I will be living with her again…for eternity!

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