You're just a big QUITTER

I sat with a tissue in my hand, half wiped tears wetting my cheeks, feeling a mixture of emotions.

There was guilt, brought on by the reality that I wasn't as able to take care of the two kids I had signed up to be a nanny for. I was 24, had no children of my own, and gosh, I hadn't expected it to be quite as intense as it ended up being. Two weeks of 11 hour days as a nanny for these children who were lovely, but very demanding. An active one year old who continually climbed up and threw himself off things (stairs, couch, anything), backwards, expecting to be caught in mid-air. A three year old, lovely as pie, but needing a companion in the most extreme way, and hardly able to entertain herself for more than 5 minutes at a time. It was just too much.

There was dismay. What would I do now? Coming back from our two years of living in Japan, I was the one who managed to get a job - this nannying position, and a place for us to live - in the windowless basement suite underneath the family I'd be working for. Okay, there were a few small windows, but waking up in a dead black room at 6am because a certain toddler is rolling his push toys on the hard floor above you, sounding like a jumbo jet, wasn't exactly pleasant. But what would I do now? Where could I get another job? 

There was disbelief. Why did these people, as they sat, both looking at me, having called down and asked me to come up for a discussion about my quitting, not understand that I was feeling incapable of caring adequately for their children? I didn't understand, even then, how parents could not hear the words, "I don't feel like I can keep your children safe. I don't feel like I'm a good enough nanny to really care for them. It's too much." Instead, the father looked at me and said, eyebrows up and through a long, condescending sigh, "I just don't get it. I guess it's because in my family we were taught NOT to be quitters." 

And then there was anger. Yes, I was angry and being talked to like I was sub-human, a youngling who just didn't understand these peoples' plight, who didn't care for their difficult situation, who was young and reckless and just wanted something different, apparently. Sigh.

So what about quitting? We do indeed hear it a lot in our culture - it's bad to quit. Don't be a quitter! Quitters never win! Quitters never succeed!

But what about the times when quitting is actually a good thing to do? Ryan was reading a book recently, in fact during the last few days of our trip, called "Think Like a Freak" by Steven Levitt & Stephen Dubner, and wrote this synopsis:

Are you a quitter?

According to “Think Like A Freak”, there are three forces that make us think of quitting as a bad word:

1. We equate quitting with failure
2. We think of quitting and get stuck at our sunk costs – believing that once we’ve heavily invested in something, it’s counterproductive to quit
3. We focus on concrete costs rather than looking at opportunity costs – In other words, we fail to see that by not quitting, there are opportunities we are missing out on. 

What if being a quitter wasn’t such a bad thing? What if more of us had the courage to quit the things we probably know in our gut already?

If you want to live intentionally, be a quitter. Let go of things that are in your way of pursuing what you really want and make sure you look at the opportunity costs.

Interesting, eh? Number two often gets me. What if you've sunk some money into the thing you know it would be best to quit? What if you've invested precious time and energy? What if?

It has been 5 years since I started attending births and supporting couples through the labour and birth world. I've loved it, and I've gotten GOOD at it. I can say that because I feel it. I know it. I can walk into a room with a woman writhing in pain, look her in the eye, and gain her trust, calm her down within a few contractions, and have her managing much better within a few short minutes. I can read a woman by her noises and movements, see where in her body she holds her tension, and with gentle touch or words, release it. I can listen to her sounds and know when she's getting close to giving birth, suggesting a good time to go in to the hospital. I can read the room, the mood of the nurse, the doctors, the midwives. I can connect gently with staff who are tense at the end of a long shift, or who have met other pushy, domineering doulas that have put them off. I can empower a woman to find her inner strength. I can validate her decision to get an epidural so that she feels no guilt if she had planned or hoped otherwise. I can guide a new mother in latching her baby onto her breast for the first time. I can counsel the couple days after the birth when they're reeling from the experience, the fatigue, the challenge of the early postpartum period. 

I can do all this, and well. And I'm quitting.

This may sound weird to many. It sounds weird to me when I write it out! But it's a good thing. You see, I have this passion deeeeeeep inside. It burns with immense strength. It has been there, burning, for years, since I was a child. And it's time to let it out.

When I was a kid, maybe 8 or so, I started composing on the piano. I would think of a song I loved, and create a way to play it while singing. I would listen to my dad playing through his list of "usuals", then plop down on the bench after he left and try to work out what I had heard. Chariots of Fire, the Entertainer, Fur Elise. As I got older, I would listen to artists who played insanely good piano (Elton John, Keith Green) and imitate it. I'd play the cd, then stop it and play the piano, then play some more, then stop it and play the piano. Back and forth a million times until I had worked out some version of what I was hearing. 

When I was a teenager I picked up a guitar that hung around in my house, fashioned a pick out of a bread tag, and borrowed a chord chart from my brother-in-law. For the next three days I locked myself in my room and practiced practiced practiced, and came out able to play through some three chord songs.

Later I was a part of a band as a singer and mandolin player. Later yet I began leading music at our small church, and I do that still today.

So music. It has a deep spot. Deep. The last few days of our time in Europe were spent in conversation with my sister, her husband and Ryan. The subject was music, and why I haven't pursued it yet. Why was I holding back? Was this birth thing an excuse? Was admin that I was doing before an avoidance? What was holding me back?

Ohhhhhh there were things holding me back - mental things - emotional things. I could get into them here, but suffice it to say I didn't believe it was OKAY to do music. I didn't believe it was a valid thing to pursue. Throughout my highschool years, conversations with teachers and counsellors, with people who I considered to be practical and wise, I managed to convince myself that my life passion....MY LIFE PASSION....was not okay to pursue. And so I didn't. Or not really.

I've always played and dabbled in writing. I've always had this deep love for creating music. I will sometimes sit down at the piano and well up at the experience.

And so, I've decided to quit birth and take on music. With utmost excitement and support, Ryan backs me up. With a feeling of both terror and excitement, I step out into the world of creating, and then (gulp) sharing my art with others. This takes a LOT of courage, friends. A lot.

So, if you would like to encourage, or help, or support in some way, I would love it. A word of kindness when I put myself out there, or a "like" of my facebook music page, or coming out to a show - all ways that I would love to have your support. This is big!

Facebook Page: Link
Website (definitely under construction): www.laurakoch.ca

Lavenham to London to Vancouver

The Lavenham adventures continued, as you can see. We wandered through old church yards, parks, down streets lined with stone walls, and had a great time.

And who could resist taking some handsome photos with one's lover in an old church yard? Not I.

Back at the cottage, we hung around with odd expressions on our faces....

And cooked delicious meals (I must give most of the credit to my sister here, who ALWAYS LOOKS THIS HAPPY WHEN IN THE KITCHEN... wink wink!)....

And posed in dramatic ways with various kitchen-y items.

Oh, and we ate.

And before you knew it, the three days were up and we were back in London! We enjoyed the garden at my sister's place....

We enjoyed watching some lovely swans and their young...

We rode on a few double decker busses....

We went to parks....

Oh, and we ate.

The last bit in London was quick, and in a blink we were back at the airport, printing our boarding passes for home.

HOMEWARD BOUND!

It was an epic journey. Absolutely epic. Oh the places we saw!

But the place that made my heart swell this time was this place.

Is there anything so beautiful as flying into Vancouver when you've been away for a long time? Oh the beauty! It was a huge celebration. We are so happy to be home!