A Big Day

So many things happening as of late.  Not only has my son turned 10 months old but he also got baptized this past Sunday.  It's an big moment for us.  Not only did I ever imagine that I would have a son but one that would be baptized into my Catholic faith.  As we waited outside, behind the Archbishop, I felt such a sense of pride, of amazement at this moment.  My lovely Noah was about to be washed of original sin.  And I cried.

I've been making photo books, canvases as well as thank you cards via Shutterfly just to capture the moment and share with everyone who was there but also those who weren't.

5x7 Folded Card

View the entire collection of cards.

Feeding a Baby

Around the 4-month mark is when you can start introducing solid food to a baby.  It's as nerve-racking as it sounds.  What do you feed a baby?  I can split these fries with him?  No, not exactly.

We started off with the traditional rice cereal.  We kept that recipe going until I thought perhaps he was getting too tired of the same old things; formula and rice cereal.

My mom, who watches Noah while I'm at work, started feeding him foods she made.  She made our food growing up so I wasn't too shocked to see her making his foods.  It started off with potatoes, squash and carrots and gradually moved to adding bananas (his favorite), blueberries, strawberries and apples.

I didn't initially start off parenthood with the intent of making my son's meals.  (Well, aside from breastfeeding.)  In all honesty, it was something I hadn't thought too much about.  However, watching my mom make his meals and realizing that Noah had yet to eat some of the jars of Gerber food found in our pantry, that someone had gifted to us, made me stop and think long and hard about it.  What did I want to feed my son?  What would be in his best interests?  How about my own?  A happy, healthy baby is the ultimate goal of any parent so what can I do to achieve that?  My mom, a woman ahead of her time, made most of our meals.  What she didn't make was pizza only because she didn't know how.  She's a Mexican first.  My father's side is Italian and even still, we don't know enough to make our own pizza.  Also, I can honestly say that I have yet to eat a Happy Meal from McDonald's.  My mom never went out and got them for us instead telling us, "Oh, you want a Happy Meal? I'll make it for you."  And suddenly, here I am, making my son's food and I am still alive.  Why didn't I put more thought into this before I decided to have a baby?  Why did I think it was going to be hard?  Why would it have mattered if it was going to be hard?  It's my son's health and well-being.  What the what?

I spent this weekend making my son chicken, squash, pears, plums, peaches and apples.  All of them pureed of course and, according to the BNC, all of them yummy.  I surprised myself very much this weekend not only with the fact that I was able to carve out time to do this, as well as pre-make some dinners for the week four ourselves, but also about how calm I was about it.  I didn't know I had it in me to be a mother who makes her son's meals.  I am that person now and while I was a little ashamed that I didn't put too much thought into this before and after my life as a parent, I'm glad that I snapped to it and did something about it.  My son, who just turned 6 months old, is happy and healthy and just got all good marks from his pediatrician.  And, at the risk of jinxing it, he has yet to get sick.  Keeping him clean must help but there has to be some truth about your immunities being found in breastmilk.  Turns out, there was a payoff to all those times I got sick as a child; they went to my son instead.  Yay!

Look at this face.  How could it not have been worth it?

The End Result

I know that I have taken my sweet time with a follow-up post concerning the birth of my son.  My apologies.  In a nutshell, shit happens.  What kind of shit?  Oh, I dunno.  An unscheduled c-section because your son's heart rate is not responding very well to the contractions which led to unbelievable pain afterwards.  That pain prohibited me from rising out of bed to tend to my crying baby.  But how can I soothe my baby when he refused to latch on so I could feed him?  That was just the start.

The Baby Blues came in full force.  I already felt like a failure for not being able to properly birth my son so not being able to tend to him and feed him added to it.  But, the Baby Blues will happen to just about anyone.  It's the Post Partum Depression that one has to be on the lookout for afterwards.  (And here is my warning because I am about to open up more than I am prone to.)  I have battled depression before so I knew very well that I could go back there after giving birth.  I knew what I was supposed to look out for; the thoughts, the pain and the tears.  For a few hours, after the BNC went off to work and before my mom came over to help me as I recuperated, I would cry.  I would cry as I held my son and begged his forgiveness at my inability to be a good mother to him.  I begged that he forget how awful I was being.  It was a dark hole that, at the time, I didn't see any light.  I heard nothing but static in an empty room and I just simply couldn't find the door.  The anxiety was absolutely horrible.  I dreaded stepping out of the house for simple things such as buying bread.  I hated being outside as well as being away from my son.

But then, upon my own realization of the type of hole I found myself in, I visited my doctor and cried to her about it all.  God bless that woman.  She handed me a tissue, put her hand on my shoulder and told me that all was going to be okay.  She gave me Zoloft and kept me from returning back to work for a few more weeks.  I love her.

And, just like that, I got better.  I woke up with energy and a smile.  Yes, it takes a while for the medication to kick in but the simple fact that I was doing something about it made me feel a bit better.  I was on the road to getting better.  A month later and I am calm and happy.  If I am alone all day with my son, I don't panic at all whereas previously, I had a mini-meltdown when my mom was unable to stop by and lend a hand.  Of course, it helps a great deal when you have a very happy baby.

Noah is now 2 months old and I finally able to feel like his mother.  I still marvel at him.  I am amazed that I am a mother to a beautiful and healthy baby.  My diabetes didn't affect him at all.  That makes every sacrifice I did while pregnant worth it.  

Rounding Third

Tomorrow evening, July 26th, we are scheduled to check into our hospital and be induced.  I'm anxious to meet my son already; to make sure that he is okay.  It's only then will I finally relax and take that long awaited deep breath of relief.  

In a way, I am very happy to know when and how everything will happen.  No Hollywood movie scene here though a part of me was hoping for an August baby.  Then again, the only reason for that was to make sure he would be full term.  My prayer was half answered; he will be full term but just not in August.  I'm okay with that.  We are as ready as we will be.  A few minor things to do and we are set to go.

And, before I forget, I want to express my deepest gratitude to my BNC.  He has been a rock throughout this whole pregnancy.  He went to just about every appointment and tried his hardest to make me comfortable and happy especially during these last few weeks when things became more and more difficult.  I tried to include him in every decision because, after all, this is his son as well.  I wouldn't have made it without his support.  He pushed me and encouraged me when I thought I couldn't continue.  I have no doubt in my mind that he will be a remarkable father to our son because he has been a remarkable husband to me.  /sappiness

It has been a long and difficult journey but I'm confident that all the sacrifice and hard work will be worth it and I, for one, cannot wait to meet the end result.