Sad

On Tuesday I was pregnant. Today is Friday and I'm not. In a way it seems silly to grieve something that in medical terms was simply a cluster of cells, a 'chemical pregnancy'. But when I'd read the stick(s) which confirmed a pregnancy that I'd already known about intuitively , I felt like I'd won the lottery.  I ran out and bought our son a T-shirt that said, 'Big Brother' and together we greeted my husband as he came home from work. We hugged, we cried, we were overjoyed. 

We made plans. "We'll have to get another crib". "We might need a bigger car."

We imagined.

I pictured this new baby growing inside me. I pictured my belly growing bigger as the winter months progressed, and I pictured bringing the baby home right around the 4th of July. How perfect I thought. Little c will be big brother, only 15 months apart from his sibling. They will never be alone. It's so important to us that c has siblings. My own brothers are the greatest gifts my parents ever gave me and are still my best friends. 

I called my midwife and we agreed to meet at the end of November for our first ultrasound. 

The next day, I started cramping and had a terrible headache. I knew what this meant because it'd happened before almost two years ago. I laid in bed for hours napping and cuddling with our son, thinking that maybe if I didn't move, then it wouldn't happen. 

But it did. 

Yes, I know I already have a son, and how blessed I am for that. He is our world. Yes, I know that we'll try again. Yes, I know that this happens all the time. But I am sad. I grieve for the potential that those cells held within me. 

A Perfect Fall Day

Fall is here. C and I are at my parents house in Michigan. He's going to be baptized here this weekend. I'm also babysitting my friends 65 lb bulldog! Wow. The weather is cold, damp and windy.... perfect for staying inside and snuggling, which is what we did all day! Well, not all day....C is now on the move. Last week he moved from creeping to full on crawling and pulling to stand. He likes to try these new skills out as much as he can! What joy it is to watch him explore and discover his capabilities. He got a new toy to try out on this chilly fall day. It's a small table with lots of lights, sounds, colors and activities on top. I remember when a neighbor gave this to us when c was only 3 months old. I thought the time when he'd be able to stand and play at it was soooo far in the future. Well, here we are. I'm sure that I'll be talking about the bittersweet nature of his growing up for the rest of my life. 

Today, while snuggling in bed with c after his mid morning nap, he took his pacifier out of his mouth and tapped it to mine and so I playfully tugged at it with my teeth. He laughed and pulled it back as if to say, "Mine!". Then he tapped it against my mouth once again with a smile on his face and that twinkle in his eye. We did this again and again and laughed and laughed. I thought to myself, "This is why I'm so happy that I decided to stay home with him instead of work outside the home." What could be better than these moments? Certainly nothing that I could ever find in the material world.

I'm going to go light my pumpkin candle, watch the leaves continue to fall, feed the beast (the bulldog), and enjoy watching my son play in the background, knowing we had a wonderful day together.

The Rose

Finally, someone has come into my life who appreciates my singing. Growing up I loved to sing and perform. I suck at singing. I mean I'm really terrible. I remember long car trips with my family where my brothers would beg me to "shut up". I know that I'm no Celine, but I think I have a decent voice. Those that love me most tell me that I'm wrong.

That is until the little man arrived!

He loves my voice.

A few weeks ago while watching Oprah (doesn't every stay at home mom watch Oprah?!) Jennifer Hudson said that she sings Bette Midlers 'The Rose' to her newborn son. "What a great idea", I thought. I looked up the words online and sang them to my son. He grinned and looked at me transfixed.

I'm finally a star!

So today, while stuck in traffic in the heart of Chicago, the little man became restless. He started crying. Then wailing. What to do, what to do....

The Rose.

With all the gusto as if I were a top recording artist singing at the grammys I began, "some say love....." He stopped crying, smiled and eventually feel asleep.

I laughed.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think that I'd be driving through downtown Chicago in the rain, belting out Bette Milder's 'The Rose' as if my life depended on it. 

With someone who actually enjoys it.

Now I'm aware that certainly by his teenage years if not sooner, he will join the others who loving tell me, "Jess, you can't actually sing".

But for now..... I am as good as it gets.

Oh the bliss.

I love being a mom.

Dear little man

Dear little man,

The night your arrived was cold and perfect. You arrived exactly a week after your due date and the waiting was hard! We wanted to meet you so badly. Around 2 p.m I got up from a nap with some cramping.....is this it?? Daddy came home from work early and true to form began meticulously recording the "cramping". He said, "Jess you're in labor". I said, "noooooooo," because I didn't want to get my hopes up. But when he turned over his paper to reveal his calculations I knew it was true. The contractions were exactly 60 seconds in duration and 4 minutes apart. This would be the night that we would finally meet you. I labored at home for a while, ate Matzo ball soup, hung out in the shower, and finally told daddy, "it's time to go".... "NOW". I didn't even put on a coat. 

I joked with people that I'd probably have an epidural immediately when I got to the hospital. I think that I said that because I didn't believe I was strong enough to go without. After all, I freak out and have to lay down even when getting blood drawn. However, the truth is that inside I knew exactly how I wanted to bring you into the world. I knew that as crazy as it sounds, I wanted to feel everything- to experience giving birth without medicating it. Above all, I wanted you to arrive in the most peaceful, calm embracing environment possible. Daddy and I decided that a water birth would be perfect. We switched from a doctor to a midwife for this reason. And let me tell you, I could not get into that birthing tub fast enough when the custodian wheeled it in...

I sat in the tub, Daddy sat beside the tub. He held my hand when I needed, he let go when I didn't want to be touched. He got me ginger ale when I was thirsty, he held my hair back and kept re-pony tailing it when I asked. He was quiet when I wanted silence. He encouraged me with his words. He encouraged me with his eyes. Later, Daddy would tell me that he felt like he didn't do much. He's so silly sometimes. From my perspective he was perfect on that night. It deepened my love for him. I remember feeling that although the sensations were intense (understatement of the year), very blessed that my dream for how you would come into the world, was actually happening. The water was warm, the room was quiet and dark, the energy was peaceful. 

Then your heart rate dropped and they made me get out of the tub.

The contractions got so intense.

Suddenly the room was filled with people- doctors, nurses, a NICU team. I saw Dr. Moses (love his name!!) and remembered that he said that he'd only be there in case of emergency.

I wasn't scared but I could tell that Daddy was.

Finally, they rushed me down a hall to an operating room and I assumed that you'd arrive through my belly.

However, Dr. Moses said, "trust me", gave me an epidural, and delivered you with forceps. 

I remember them running you out of the room and I asked,"Do I have a little boy or girl?"

There hadn't been time to check. They needed to make sure that you were okay. 

You were. You were perfect and healthy.

Sara the midwife came in and said, "You have a son". 

Daddy went out to meet you but I had to wait.

Finally, Sara carried you to me, all wrapped up and adorable. I could hardly believe that you were ours. 

You were and are, perfect. 

I'm a blogger!!

All my life I've keep a journal. Well, not all my life, but certainly during periods of transition. I kept a journal when I was 13 after my brothers, parents, our dog and I moved to Michigan from NY. It's not easy starting a new school at 13 years old! I digress....

I kept a journal when I left for college, and later, during my 2 years in the peace corps. There was something so cathartic about writing out my thoughts and experiences. I remember feeling so clear about who I was, what I wanted, and knowing that I'd have a record of the moments that really mattered. Journaling allowed me to express, to adapt, to vent and to grow. Of course, when you're living in a small village in Africa, you have a lot of time to write and think..... and write and think. But since moving back stateside, working full time, seeing my Dad through cancer, meeting the love of my life, trying to be a good wife, going to grad school,  buying a house, and now raising a little man..... somehow journaling got put aside. Where did years 25 through 32 go?! I know what I did... it's what I just listed. However, I don't remember as many moments as I wish I did. Journaling forces one to slow down and think, take in, process. Now that I have my little man, I am determined to record this time. 

I love my husband. I love my new little man. Being a mom is the biggest thing that's ever happened to me. I cannot get over that this tiny little man, this amazing creature with my eyes, my husbands lips and a smile to melt your heart has come into our life. I wasn't prepared for this sort of love. But it's here and I'm going to do my best to be the best mommy I can be for him. 

Back to why I'm starting this blog....I do feel like I'm in a state of transition. There is life before March 4th, 2009 and there's life after. And as much as I love this new creature and feel blessed beyond measure to be able to stay home to care for him, it's hard work. Motherhood forces you to grow and reflect in ways unimaginable before. I look at him and see him growing and changing right before my eyes. I am too.