To My Baby Boy on His 15th Birthday...

Time is a funny thing. The seemingly endless hours and days of youth fade into a blur of passing years as you get older....and it seems that nothing speeds the passage of time as much as being a parent. One minute, you're celebrating the long awaited arrival of the precious one you've spent months imagining...the next, they're bigger than you and learning to spread their wings to fly away from your carefully tended nest.

15 years ago, I cleaned the entire house top to bottom. I finally got my then 2 year old stepdaughter to acknowledge for the first time that there was a baby in my belly. I was feeling accomplished. I went to bed and snuggled in for a restful night after a long day. It was not to be.

At 6:18 the next morning, we welcomed a 9 lb 1 oz baby boy into this world. A baby boy who looked more like his daddy than any newborn I have ever laid eyes on. A baby boy who was the talk of the hospital because he came into this world already looking half grown. 

I KNEW this boy was going to change my life. What I could have never imagined was just how much. He introduced me to real motherhood...to being a mommy. He welcomed me into a world where someone else's well being and happiness meant more than my own....a world that was filled with ever increasing amounts of memories which will never fade. 

While in some ways, being a mom to him has gotten a whole lot easier over the passing years, we seem to keep adding challenges to the mix. Watching him rise to greet each one with his amazing sense of humor and growing sense of compassion has brought me more joy than I could have ever believed. 

15 years. It truly seems impossible. I would have never thought that one day I would blink my eyes and find that that impish blonde haired monkey with the bright bubbly laughter and goofy sense of humor would have grown to a nearly 6 ft tall, peach fuzz faced, deep voiced, talented and caring young man that I am faced with now.

Reality has hit me. I'm old. hahaha. No, seriously. The reality hits a little more with each passing year that my baby boy is getting awfully close to being all grown up. Next year, he'll be driving. The year after that going to prom. And the year after that, graduating. It sincerely seems as if I went to bed one night with a little boy and woke up with a man. 

Caleb, I couldn't be a single shred prouder of the man I see you becoming. Generous, loving, compassionate, smart, and hilariously funny. You are a fantastic big brother...and a giant help to your poor tired mama.

We've been through it, you and I. To borrow a line from my favorite movie..."If I was going through Hell, I'd only want one person in the whole world beside me"...and that person would without a doubt be you. 

Thank you for choosing me to be your mama, despite the fact that throughout much of your life, I have had NO clue what I was doing. ;) It's pretty awe inspiring to see the results of it all turning out so much better than I could have ever hoped. 

 

I love you so much.... Happy, happy birthday!

 

Mother's Day Musings....

I've been a "mother" for nearly 18 years now.
It may seem strange to put it that way to most...but in my world, I have been a mother much longer than I have been a mom. And to me, there is a distinct difference.
You become a mother the day you give birth.A simple matter of biology. However, the distinction lies not in the bringing life into this world but in the nurturing of that life once it is here. So, yes. I have been a mother for coming up on 18 years in August....but I have only been a mom since Caleb came into this world 15 years ago this coming Wednesday.
In my eyes, a mom is the one who changes millions of diapers, who wakes multiple times in the night to feed crying babies, the one who bathes, dresses, and cares for the day to day needs of that child. She is the one who kisses scraped knees and soothes bruised egos, the one who wipes away tears and laughs at pure childhood silliness. She sings songs. She reads stories. She sits up all night with sick kiddos, and worries incessantly about broken bones, bullies, and readying their children for a world that is often cruel. She is not afraid of puke, or snot, or slobber. Most days she walks around with one of the three smeared across her chest like a badge of honor. Being a mom means getting down and dirty, and not shying away from making the hard decisions or being the bad guy, even when its the most difficult thing to be but its in her child's best interest.
You become a mom, not by giving birth, but by slogging through the day to day drudgery of motherhood itself. 
 We mothers tend to carry around a whole lot of guilt...and sometimes with that nasty guilt complex comes a heavy sense of failure. I want to say right now...on Mother's Day.....you are NOT a failure. We are all just stumbling through life in general, doing the best we can to just put one foot in front of the other most days.There isn't a manual. There isn't any way to have a set plan. We all just make decisions based on what we think is best, sometimes good decisions, sometimes not so good. Motherhood isn't any different. You WILL make mistakes. You WILL have to make hard choices. Your child will more than likely at some point tell you that you are a horrible mother or that they hate you. They'll be convinced that your whole goal is to ruin their lives. And you know what? They don't mean a word of it. Even if they don't realize it at the time. One of these days, when they become parents themselves, they're going to be just like you. If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, take heart that they're going to be flattering the hell out of you. :)
So what I am asking of you is this....When those old feelings of failure creep up on you, when the laundry and dirty dishes are piling up, the kids are screaming, and you feel like crawling into bed to do nothing but cry, please remember this. You are amazing. No one else on this Earth is as capable of being your children's mother as you are. Keep your head up and keep fighting the good fight. And never, ever forget that by cleaning puke, and wiping tears, and kissing sweetly smelling heads good night, you are earning your title...the one which deserves nothing but the highest respect....MOM.
Happy Mother's Day...from me to you. :)

Fear, Frustration, and All the Nasty Side Effects of Pregnancy Hormones....

Posts two days in a row? What is wrong with me??
I just need to work through some of the thoughts running through my mind and since writing (whether publicly or not) seems to be cathartic for me, here I am.
We're coming up on the 30 week mark for this pregnancy. I have been thoroughly enjoying a nondescript, relatively easy pregnancy for the majority of the last 7 and 1/2 months. Nothing too exciting or worrisome going on, regular doctor appointments without any of the extras thrown in...all in all, your average run of the mill pregnancy. A far cry from my pregnancy with Liddy.
The one thing I have struggled with, silently mostly, has been fear. Labor with Liddy was excruciatingly long. Delivery itself was easy but led to a hemorrhage which resulted in my needing to receive two units of blood and labor that continued for an additional two days post-birth before delivering...well, let's just say, a nasty surprise. I feel strongly as if I kissed the face of the Grim Reaper and somehow, miraculously, made it through still alive and breathing. To say that I am scared of giving birth again is a slight understatement. I am literally terrified. TERRIFIED.
I've practically begged for a C-section. 5 doctors have told us that it isn't necessary, that the chances of a repeat performance of my own personal nightmare are slim to none, that the chances for similar complications during or following a c-section are greater than those having one more natural birth. They assure me that there is no way that I will be induced for nearly 4 days before having a baby again. They assure me that this time I will not go to the bathroom and receive a nasty surprise. They assure me that I will find that I have no need for an emergency D&C. Yet. Their reassurances do little in the way of ACTUALLY assuring me. That old nagging fear still plagues me.
And now...well, so much is uncertain for little Levi. We are still waiting to find out if my liver is failing in its duties due to the pregnancy. If it is, we face a baby who will be forced to be brought into this world before he is actually ready. We face an almost repeat performance of the last months of my pregnancy with Liddy....a steady stream of doctor's appointments, ultrasounds, and non-stress tests. Dreaded uncertainty mixed with excitement and joy at his birth.And as much as I have feared for the last 4 months for myself, I now fear more for him.
Here's the thing. I truly didn't believe that I was strong enough to make it through everything we have been through with Liddy without falling completely apart. I was wrong. I came through with colors flying, more confident than ever that I am one tough cookie, that my God is mighty and just, and thanking God over and over that I never had to face anything like that again. Almost the first entire year of her life, I was so choked with fear that it was a relief to have that weight lifted from my shoulders and to live without that ever present worry constantly tapping me on my shoulder. I never expected to have any more children. I thought I was done and that surviving that year intact was my own personal badge of honor. I carried it as such. And now, faced with a similar (but not the same) circumstances, I fall right back into the "Poor me. I don't think I can deal with this again" trap, one which I am helpless to combat, yet one that frustrates me to no end.
I cry at the drop of a hat. I cuss. I snap at the people I love most in this world. The fear, the uncertainty, is once again winning. And I HATE that. I look around myself and see other parents and friends dealing with so much more...devastating unforeseen circumstances...potentially life altering illnesses....and I want to smack my own face. WTH do I have to be afraid of? A NICU stay? Big whoop. We've been there before. Adding more stress to a plate already overflowing? Well, been there too and, I'm sure, will be there again.  Death? I've faced that, both with myself and with my precious daughter, and I feel strongly that my time isn't done here just yet. I have work left to finish. Yet. Again, the fear remains.
I feel like I am whining. That's not my intention by any means. I suppose that writing this is a little bit of cheap therapy, a reminder that I am not in charge, despite my delusions of grandeur, and that I need to leave all these crazy thoughts and fears in the hands of the only Someone who actually IS. Apparently, it worked for now since I started out writing with tears rolling down my face and those tears have dried....
Still, I ask you to pray for us....to pray for a safe delivery of a healthy baby boy (whenever that may be), to pray for peace for his potentially crazy hormonal mama, and to pray for patience for his daddy, who bless his heart, is the one who most often gets to deal with all the hormonal mama madness.