Being a mom- broken heart cause #0142

Our new neighborhood is wonderful, quiet and full of very nice people. Jack is the youngest child on our street- the closest in age is our next door neighbor's little boy who is four, almost five and Jack will only be two in two weeks.

Jack is always excited to see the little boy, and always says his name and wants to play with him. He does, but what Jack does not understand and neither does the other little boy, is that Jack is still very much a baby. Sure he is a little boy and he walks and talks and runs around and plays, but his legs can only run so fast and his understanding and imagination are still very young. Often times when the little boy next door comes over and plays, it is usually around Jack. I always feel bad for Jack, because he is always trying to keep up and play with him, but he inevitabley seems to get left out because he is still so little.

On Thursday night, we were talking with the neighbors and the little boy next door came over to "play" with Jack with another little four year old girl who also lives on our street. Jack was soaked from head-to-toe after "helping" me water the flowers, and since it was getting darker I decided he needed to be changed into some dry clothes. The kids were at the back of the yard catching lightning bugs, and as I went over I heard them tell Jack that he could not catch the lightning bugs because he was "too small". I brought Jack inside for a moment, and as I was redressing him to go back outside he began talking about something being small. It took me a minute to figure out he was saying "I too small". Between the pregnancy hormones and hearing my little boy repeat what was said to him, I almost burst into tears right there. Whether he understand what it meant or not, I can not be positive, but my heart definitely broke into a million pieces. As he would repeat the phrase whilst expressing a super serious face, I would counter it everytime by telling him he was not too small at all and that he was a big boy.

As any parent, I want my child to be included and to be welcomed. I think about my fun loving, silly, wonderful and playful little boy and I want nothing more than as a parent but for other people-especially other children- to recognize and appreciate that as well.

As innocent as that situation may have been, it could not stop my heart from feeling like it was sucker punched in the gut. I think one of the most vulnerable feelings about being a parent is knowing that even when you are around, you can not protect your child from everything. Things are going to happen whether you like it or not. I can not be there with him every second of the day, and even if I am with him I know that in most situations I need to let things happen and that I can only step-in under certain circumstances. I just hope and pray that I can at least be a comfort and cure rather than a bandaid that simply provides a temporary cover.

Annabelle or Lamp Shade?

Choosing a name for your future child is probably one of the most exciting- and sometimes overwhelming-things about pregnancy. Well, for me at least. You get to choose the name your child will carry with them for the rest of their life, assuming they do not hate it so much that they stomp on your heart and legally change it themselves.

When I was pregnant with Jack, the husband and I knew what name we wanted immediately. He suggested it, I loved it, so it would be. Choosing Grace's name was not as easy. It took a lot more consideration and throwing names back and forth (Well mostly me throwing them and my husband saying "no"). I would watch T.V., listen to songs, read books, and stare at waitress' name tags for inspiration. Godforbid this baby turn out to be a boy, because there is a good chance I'll be inspired by my cereal one morning in the hospital and throw "Tucan Sam" on the birth certificate.

After going through the first pregnancy, and receiving a different reaction everytime someone asked me what we were planning on naming the baby, I was a little hesitant about divulging number two's name. I did not enjoy the contorted faces people would display as I revealed to them my first born's name. It was if I farted in their face with words. I have known people who have actually changed the name they wanted to name their child because of reactions alone.

I still get the same fart wrenched faces among those I reveal number two's name to. I have come to like and appreciate names that are classic, names that have stood the test of time. Names that my kids can take with them through the different stages in their lives. I put a lot of thought into the process, and so when someone gives me a forced "oh, that's nice", I want to rip off their face (or sit and cry, depending on my mood).

So, the moral of the story is that when I am pregnant with number three NO ONE is learning his or her name until the day he or she enters the world. It is I who has to carry the little bugger for nine months, I who has to suffer the stretch marks and weight gain, and I(and my husband) who have to suffer the hormones and sleepless nights and getting spit up and peed on and who can't shower for three days straight- so we can name them whatever the hell we want. Lamp Shade.

Month 23

Dear Jack,

A week ago, you hit Month 23- almost officially a toddler. When I compare your age to my pregnancy, you somehow seem to be growing a lot faster than my pregnancy is progressing; quite the paradox.

We have begun to transition our home and family in preparation for the arrival of your sister. This month, you said good-bye to your crib and embarked on the "big boy" bed. To my pleasant surprise, you did not miss the crib at all. Even when you do not want to go to bed (which is everytime bedtime rolls around), you stay put and have only dared to leave the boundaries of the mattress once.

Aside from the success of the crib, we have been preparing the baby's room for her arrival. As I organized clothing and bedding, you would climb into the vibrating seat, swing, bassinet, and play with the toys- too bad you did not show that much interest in those things when you were small enough to use them. Regardless, I feel like it is a sign that we are going to have to make sure we affirm with you every day how special you are to us, how much we love you and that you are still and will always be our baby. You have been the center of our attention for almost two years, and I know the addition of another member sharing that attention is going to be a transition. Right now, you are content with her being in mommy's tummy. I am not sure if you actually understand that there is an actual baby inside my tummy, or if you think she's just mommy and daddy's imaginary friend.

When we are not preparing for the baby's arrival, we are watching you grow and develop and talk our ears off. Your father has started to teach you your ABC's, and numbers and you are doing very well, although we have to keep reminding you that to get to "ten" the path does not go "one, two, three, four, six, eight, CAR!"

This morning I was woken up to you and your father going through the house- a pleasant change of pace for a Thursday before work. You grew an attachment to your rubber ducks in the bathtub last night (telling them to kiss one another and making them swim). Your friendship continued this morning, and as I got ready for work, I watched and listened as you tucked them into your bed and told them to go to sleep and not to come out of the bed and that you loved them and would see them later. Then you told me that they were hungry, and together the three of you enjoyed a bowl of Sloop-loops (fruit loops) at the kitchen table- you had your bowl and the ducks even had their own small bowl and OF COURSE the ducks had to have milk on their cereal. I laughed the whole morning, another wonderful way to start a thursday. I am always fascinated by your interpretations of us- whether it be tucking your ducks in bed, talking to an imaginary friend on one of our cellphones, or randomly repeating phrases we frequent throughout your everyday jargon. Children are like sponges, and it is always the small things we do that you notice and absorb the most. You are always watching and always paying attention. From brushing our teeth to kissing your hurt finger, we are constant role models for the foundation of who you are and who you will become. Even before you were born, I would fret over how to mold you into a good, honest, kind, well-rounded person. I am beginning to understand that all I need to do is to try and set that example for you everyday within myself and hope that you absorb all of those things as well. Thank you for making me want to always be a better mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend and human being.

Love,

Mommy

30 Weeks and two days

(http://pregnancy.baby-gaga.com/cartoons/cartoon30)


Thirty weeks and two days (I deserve those two days and I am going to mark my territory all over them). It seems like the light at the end of the tunnel does not appear until you are out of the twenties. The weeks in the twenties seem to last FOREVER. Simply put, they are the bastard child of pregnancy.

Thirty weeks and in the home stretch, I am beginning to become a little nervous. Every pregnancy is different, this one being no expception. I have been a lot calmer this pregnancy- much less paranoid, have not gained as much weight as quickly, did not have to wear a cathetar for a week, the smell of popcorn makes me want to vomit, the baby is much more active than Jack ever was, etc etc etc. I want the baby to come early, but that also means I will not be prepared. I did not love that Jack was two days late, but looking back- being induced was REALLY convenient. It was like pregnancy fit right in with my schedule. I was able to get everything at work ready for my absence, I was able to shower and freshen up, I was able to have all of my stuff ready for the hospital, I was able to be at the hospital and casually put into labor, I was able to request an epidural when I needed it and have it so it lasted through the entire labor...it was like "BK-Have it your way" day. I am so worried that I will go into labor at work or in the middle of Wal-mart, I won't be ready for anything, either "A" I won't make it to the hospital in time and Bill will have to deliver the baby on the side of I-79, "B" I will not make it to the hospital in time for the epidural and will have to FEEL EVERYTHING, "C" my labor will be so long that the epidural will have worn off and I will have to FEEL EVERYTHING, "D" I will have to get a C-section and have a GIANT SCAR and the medication will wear off and I will FEEL EVERYTHING, and that Grace is really a boy and not a girl and he will have to live in a purple room and wear pink flowered onsies because GOSH DARNIT I bought those onsies and SOMEONE is going to wear them. Pant pant pant pant pant...sigh.

I need a drink. In fact, if someone would like to buy ME a baby present, you can bring a bottle of kahlua to the hospital when I deliver and I will drink it on the way home in the car while I comfort my new little baby boy GRACE who CROSS DRESSES.

Month 22

Dear Jack,

Since I slacked on Month 21, I thought I would try to make-up for it by keeping up with Month 22. Not to mention, you have grown about 10 years in the last 2 weeks and I need to try and keep up.

Your obsession with cars in the last two weeks is unparalleled by you love of anything else. You take them everywhere, and more recently have decided their hard-cold metal structures make the perfect cuddling companion while you sleep. You are all boy, my son.

You have also become quite the little mocking bird, and relish in repeating everything we say as soon as we say it- which is why your father and I have had to eliminate 57% of our vocabulary. You are not just repeating single words anymore, either, but entire phrases. About a week ago, you and I were driving out of the Walmart parking lot and a car cut us off. I retaliated with a "Are you kidding me?" You immediatly replied, and continued to repeat for the next 5 minutes "You kiddin' me?". Which is a perfect example of why I have installed extra filters between my brain and my mouth.

I am not the bragging kind of mother, but I have to say that your fascination and uncanny observation for details is quite impressive. You seem pick-up things we tell you relatively quickly, and you even have the ability to connect your own associations with that information. For instance, your Uncle Jason is a police officer. You have never seen him in his uniform, nor have you seen him in a police car. In fact, no one has ever pointed to a random police car and said his name. However, everytime you see a police car you say "Jason car". On Monday night, we were sitting outside and a police siren went off in the distance and you, once again, said his name. I have no idea how were able to make the connection between Uncle Jason and police car, let alone the connection between a siren and a police car and Uncle Jason. You little smarty pants.

Since it is always important to remain modest, I will offset the previous paragraph with this next little gem. The other day, as you were getting out of the tub, you pointed to your little man part and asked, "Mommy, what's dat?" And, I just laughed and laughed- which is probably something that will affect your self esteem for the rest of your life, become a recurring topic of discussion with your future therapist, and the inspire the title of your memoirs- "I pointed to my private parts and all my mother did was laugh".

It is my job to be your biggest cheerleader and the person that will embarass you the most. It is not easy, but someone has to do it.

Love,

Mommy

Free Birthing = WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?

It seems that when I am pregnant I find myself extra drawn to shows about babies, giving birth to babies, being pregnant with babies, babies -babies- babies. I enjoy living vicariously through other women giving birth because I wish I was as well. I love having children, but if I have said it once, I'll say it 890 more times- I am too impatient to be pregnant. Yeah, there should be a process of time, but no more than six months- nine is just completely ridiculous.

Anyway, last night, I was watching a documentary on women who choose free birthing as an option. If you are not familiar with the term, what it entails is the woman giving birth to her child at home without any medical assistance what so ever- no doctors, nurses, not even a mid-wife or Douala. I sat there the whole time with my mouth gaping open. My pants were wet from my mortified drool- either that or I sneezed, coughed or blinked too hard and peed myself.

I am all for doing what makes you comfortable, because giving birth and going through labor is one of the most humbling and ridiculous experiences I have and will ever go through as long as I live. Saying that, I feel that there is a line that one should not cross- the line where your opinions affect the well being of not only your health and safety but the safety and livelihood of your unborn child. These women are playing Russian roulette with their child's life, and it is completely irresponsible. I understand if you had a bad experience at the hospital or you do not like doctors or whatever other reason you have that makes you want to have your child at home, but you should never let those feelings and opinions get in the way of bringing your child safely into this world. I do not agree with home delivery- I believe that hospitals and doctors were created by God for a reason and I do not want to be anywhere else if an emergency occurs while I am giving birth. However, if you choose to give birth at home, than you at least have the responsibility of recruiting a mid-wife or some kind of medical professional who has the know-how to be able to deal with this situation. You should not be tying your child's umbilical cord with a shoestring and cutting it with a pair of scissors you got at Wal-mart- and no, burning the blades over a match does NOT make them adequately sterile. We do not live in 1875 (incase you lost your calendar). If you are more than comfortable using other modern advances such as electricity and plumbing and you live in a house that does not have a dirt floor or is surrounded by stone walls then AT LEAST give your child the best opportunity into this world by being around medical professionals who will be able to deal with labor and birth and all of the crazy situations they bring forth, even if that means giving birth at home.

Month over Twenty-one, not quite Twenty Two

Dear Jack,

I apologize for failing at my posting last month. We did have a lot going on, but I will let you know that it is partly your fault. Yes, yours. We did not have a working laptop for almost two months, because someone decided to place the laptop on the ottoman where a certain someone decided to pound their little hands on the keyboard. I was out grocery shopping, so the certain someone who left the laptop on the ottoman was not I- use deductive reasoning to figure out who it might have been.

When I walked into the apartment, your father was sitting with his head in his hands in front of a laptop with a screen display that was sideways. We restarted it, and to our dismay the computer did not want to function. We could not do anything. We took it to Best Buy to see if they could figure out what was wrong. THANK GOD it was still under warranty, because they determined it needed a new hard drive. That is right, you killed our hard drive in a matter of 6 seconds. I think you may have a future with the CIA.

In other news, we bought our house and moved! I was worried about how you would adjust to the change, because the apartment is the only home you have ever known. To my pleasant surprise, you did not miss a beat and cozied right up to the new joint. You love the extra room- especially the yard. You even have a new friend "DAV-ID" who you call for frequently, whether he is outside or not. The you casually go into his yard, like a little creeper, searching for him. We are trying to teach you boundaries.

Looking back at the last couple of months, I can not believe how much you have developed. You still speak gibberish sometimes, but more often than not you are conveying yourself with words and phrases. Your new favorite phrase is "I'm Hungry". I am so happy you are back to eating now, but could we, maybe, not be hungry at 5am every morning? I have been pushing you off until at least 7, but yesterday you were more than insistent at 630am when you strictly requested sloop loops (fruit loops). Ever since you saw that darn commercial on saturday, that is all you have asked for. When you first started asking for it, we did not have any in the house. I kept trying to tell you that we did not have fruit loops, but you did not believe me. I tried to explain that if we had fruit loops, I would give them to you but we dont so I cant. But, you think food magically creates itself, so your weren't convinced. I knew things were getting a little out of control when you saw a KFC commercial last night and proceeded to ask for chicken.

I can't tell if this new obsession over food is a new phase, or a reaction to having the stomach virus last week. The only thing worse than being sick yourself, is watching you child be sick. I now know why mothers tell their children that they would be sick for them if they could. It would be much easier being sick myself than watching you lay around, lifeless in comparison to your normal self. The only good thing that came out of you being sick was realizing you still need me. It felt so good to hear you call my name at 3am. Since I work, I do not get to spend the time with you that I want to and so when you fall or bump your head and want "daddy", my heart would go to my stomach a little bit each time.

You are growing so fast and constantly changing every single day. I still can't believe you used to be the little 8lb 11oz nugget I gave birth to almost two years ago. I wish I could be with you all day everyday- Mondays are always the saddest for me. I am glad (and a little jealous) that your daddy gets to experience this part of your life right now- everyday. I know it can be exhausting sometimes, and definitley trying on the nerves- but you will never be as young as you were yesterday ever again. I hope he knows how lucky he is.

Love,

Mommy