Leukemia

For the past month and a half, my beloved brother has been dealing with his leukemia and it's been shitty.  Real shitty.  I don't know how to adequately describe how I've been feeling because my emotions have been all over the place.  I'm sad, angry, sad, heartbroken, super sad, anxious, stressed, burnt out, and super fucking sad.  I want to scream all the time.  I want to scream as loud as I can from the top of a building.  I want to shout, "FUCK!" until my throat is raw.  I want to take a bat to the ground until I don't have the strength to lift it up anymore.  I want to punch the walls.  I want to run.  I want to run so far away.  I want to cry and scream and not wake up until the leukemia is gone.  As I type this, I want to puke.  I want to puke all of my insides out.  This isn't supposed to happen.  It wasn't supposed to happen.  Anyone but my brother.  Why not me?  Not my brother.

From one moment to the next, things can change.  It did here.  Brother's body started resisting his meds for CML and, in a week, it accelerated into ALL, a very aggressive form of leukemia.  It grew so rapidly and my brother was in so much pain that briefly, I feared the worse.  And yet, I didn't cry.  I held it in.  I didn't want to cry like I did last time.  And yet, one day, while I was visiting, I was informed that brother needed a lumbar puncture to check if the leukemia was in his spine, which is bad.  And they wheeled him away and I stood there, holding in those tears, screaming at them from the inside, "Don't you dare fall.  Don't you dare trickle out of my eye because I know you won't be the only tear. You'll bring your friends. DON'T YOU DARE FALL OUT!"  As soon as brother was out of the room and down the hall, I sat down, held my face in the palms of my hands and cried.  I cried puddles of tears into my hands and sobbed.  The BNC, who must have developed ninja skills because I didn't hear him creep up to me, all while holding The Kid, stroked my hair, held his hand on my head and then left.  He knew I didn't want Noah to see me like this.  

The sleepless nights I endured when I was younger have returned.  I lay awake at night, hiding my insomnia from the BNC, and think horrible thoughts.  The Kid never really kept me up but my brother's disease does.  I think of all that he has gone through and all that he will have to go through.  I think about how I need to not cry in his presence.  How I need to keep it together for his sake and for our parents' sake.  I think about The Kid and how he can't see me upset because kids are smart.  Brother was upset one day and Noah came over and stood in front of him and held his knee.  I'm sure he knows something's up and I'm preparing myself should he ever ask me about memories he has from this time.

All the doctor appointments, the special tests, the blood transfusions, the chemo treatments, the dialysis for his blood, the lumbar punctures, the loss of hair, the pneumonia, the biopsies, the bruises on his back and his arms, the port on his chest, the morphine-filled phone calls in the middle of the night because he was so doped up he didn't know what time it was, the special clean room he was in, the move to the ICU because he developed heart arrhythmia, the throat infection, talk of a bone marrow transplant, Sportscenter all day, and my brother laying there, doing it all, fighting back his tears, not wanting to be there, and slowly breaking my heart watching this, this is what we've been through otherwise known as my family's darkest hour.  

I thought a lot about my brother during this time but also of my mom.  Now that I am a mother, I have looked at her in a whole different light and have grown to admire her so much more than I already had.  However, I cannot imagine what she went through, and still is, as her son, her youngest child, battles leukemia.  I prayed for her.  I asked people to pray for her.  I don't know what I would have done had it been my own kid going through all of this, feeling powerless because the one thing you want, enduring this rather than your kid, isn't going to happen.  My momma had already lost a son, born before me, and I know it changed her.  She still thinks of her lost son, mourns for him, wonders what he would have been doing now so watching her 33 year-old son lay there, broke her heart all over again.  My dad, watching all of this, crying, begging God to spare his son, all while my brother shed hair and spoke incoherently to people who were not in the room.  

And is spite of this awful time, I look to my faith to help me keep it together.  I don't question why or how because it can drive you mad, but rather, I seek strength during these most difficult times and I must be getting it because I've made it this far without cracking.  I do beg.  I beg just like I did that time 4+ years ago.  I beg for my brother and I won't stop begging.  I also have had the BNC, who has been a rock to me and my family.  He's run errands for us and checked in on Brother when we couldn't.  The support of family and friends has been overwhelming.  Just this past Saturday, a benefit was held to help raise some funds for Brother whose short term disability will end soon and, if he's not back at work in January, will have to be let go.  Our goal more than doubled.  It was amazing and so emotional and I wish I could thank everyone who is praying for us.  It was quite the job to handle all the phone calls and texts from people wanting to help.  My brother's friends are amazing.  I started coordinating who could visit and take food otherwise Brother would have had about 10 dinners taken to him each evening.  I'm glad we aren't alone.

I also have my Noah who celebrated his first birthday while B was in the hospital.  He's hit several milestones during this time as well such as walking, drinking milk, dancing, learning to be gentle with the cats, etc.  He's been a joy and part of my salvation.

My beloved B, the light of my life, my growing-up partner in crime, one of my bestest friends, one of my favorite people, how I love thee...

Happy 1st Birthday, Kid!

Well, Noah went and turned one on July 27 and we celebrated.  We celebrated this huge milestone with family and friends and so much love.  This kid simply no idea how loved he truly is.  It was overwhelming for me and the BNC but I didn't care who saw my tears and who didn't.  My heart was in 2 places that day; with my son and with my beloved brother who unfortunately suffered a huge setback with his CML and had to be hospitalized.  I wanted to cancel this party.  How could we gather to celebrate with my brother holed up in the hospital?  How could Noah's uncle, whose 2 middle names match my brother's whole name, not be there?  But, my brother, ever being the unselfish one, made me follow through and, in a way, I'm glad I did.  We had a great time and the party was a huge success but I can't help to feel a pain in my heart not having a photo of the 2 of them on this special occasion. 

My dearest Noah,

You have been such a joy and a great challenge to have this past year.  I have learned that I don't need to take long showers or have a decent breakfast/dinner or sleep comfortably.  Modesty has flown out the window.  I no longer care if my bra is showing because you pulled my shirt down and  I also could care less about that drool mark you left on one of my favorite t-shirts.  Shaving my legs cause I intend on wearing some shorts during the hot summer months?  Pssssh.  Whatever.  You come first and as long as you're clean, clothed and fed, I'm okay.  By far, I have learned that I can love someone so much that everything that I want to do doesn't matter.  I'm a working mother, the ugliest of words, and I want to be with you for those few hours after work before you go to bed.  I want to see you grow and develop all the things that make you a you.  Oh baby, the places you will go.  You make my heart ache so much when you're sick or unhappy but I have learned to keep my cool and not freak out when you puke on me.  I remain calm cause you seeing me freak out would be no good.  I have learned to share my most prized possession (you are one of the few things we own outright) with people because they love you.

You are one silly baby.  You laugh so much and make silly faces.  You've also turned into quite the mimic by imitating mommy's funny laughs or dances.  (Do I really look that silly?  Whoops.)  You love your cats, especially that Bitty Girl;  She is clearly your favorite.  Logan and Apolo, your other 2 favorite cats, tolerate you as you rush over to hug and kiss them.  They take your hard love very well.  In other words, they put up with you as you slowly are learning to be gentle with them.  Slowly.  Very slowly.

You don't really care for TV which, in a way, makes mommy sad cause I love TV even though my viewing habits have taken a toll because a certain little guy requires lots of care and attention but I digress.  You do watch animal commercials like those God forsaken SPCA ones with the hurt animals while Sarah McLachlan  whines in the background.  They're awful and you just don't know any better about those animals being hurt yet we suffer in silence because you love animals.  You also love that Meow Mix one which, I admit, is funny.  Cats singing, "Meow, meow, meow," over and over again? Ha!  Jeopardy is another favorite.  I don't know if it's Alex Trebek or the blue screen or the music but you are enthralled.  So, we watch it and we actually do pretty good.  I also tend to walk in on you and Grandma watching El Chavo when I get out of work.  I pray you are bilingual.  You better be bilingual.  You will be bilingual.  Don't argue.

A few weeks after you turned 1, you started to gain more confidence and you started walking a lot.  You use your walker occasionally but not so much.  You have quite the zombie walk.  Brains!!

As for food, you love it.  You want to try everything.  Everything is yummy and you are very vocal about it by constantly going MMMmmmmmMMMMMMmmm as you chew.  It's a cook's favorite review.  Thank you for boosting my ego, Sweetheart.  :)

 You adore a lot of people who adore you.  You have so many honorary Tias and Unkys that I have to remember how to address invites and thank you cards as such.  You loved your grandma and 2 grandpas.  Speaking for my own mom and dad, you are their joy.  You came into their lives when they were very sad over some things and your birth, according to them, saved them.  It renewed their sense of life.  They want to have you all the time and just love spoiling you silly.  Good thing I hold them back otherwise you would have a big screen TV in your room.  Not yet, honey, not yet.

Right now, the family is going through some dark times with your Uncle Alex in the hospital and while you don't understand what is going on, you do make visits to the hospital slightly better.  The nurses spoil you and I think they check in on your Uncle Alex more because of you.  Excellent.  You're spending more time in the hospital than you should and if you do grow up and remember all of this, I will have to explain to you that your big, strong Uncle Alex wasn't feeling very good and he needed all of us to be there to support him during his hour of need.  Your presence has helped us all.  Thank you.

By far, the biggest comment I get about you is your hair.  It's getting long and it's curly like your momma's.  Some people hassle me about its length by constantly asking when I plan on cutting it.  First off, I'm not a big fan of buzz cuts on kids.  Maybe if your hair was straight but even still, I don't like it.  Secondly, because it's so curly, why should I?  I usually respond by telling them that I will "Ask his mother."  People then ask, surprised, "Aren't you...?"  Yes, yes I am very concerned citizen and I'll cut/trim it when I'm damn good and ready.  The more you ask the longer I may wait.  Sheesh.  Other people make me promise not to cut it going farther by saying that I should contact Johnson's Baby Shampoo so they can use you in their promotional ads.  I must confess that it has crossed my mind.  I mean, look at it!  It's gorgeous and unruly!  May the Houston humidity have mercy on how you deal with its effects on your hair.

You and your dad are something else.  He loves you so much and I know it pains him when you rather have my arms than his but, on occasion, you ask for his.  He understands though, and I will have to as well because I know that one day you will prefer to be with him.  You will have questions and you will feel more comfortable asking your dad than me.  I get it.  I better remember that it's nothing personal so long as you talk to one of us or one of your many aunts or uncles.  

Stats:

Weight: 22 lbs. 5 oz.

Length: 29.5 inches

Favorite Foods: avocado, bananas, yogurt, beans, lentils, rice, chicken, carrots, squash, plums, green grapes, ice cream, breads, fideo, potatoes, eggs, oatmeal, chorizo, water, so many!
Favorite Book: Guess How Much I Love You
Favorite Toy: Your pop-up game where the machine pops out balls
Special Talents: Pincher move with your fingers, evil laugh, raspberries on daddy's belly, walking, squatting, disregarding mommy telling you to stop putting cat food (or paper) in your mouth, taking cats down
Other things you love: Baths, water, the vacuum cleaner is fascinating, the broom, you like to watch people cook, you love the park especially the swing and going out to world watch
Comments: You are slender for your age coming in the 25% but are in the 80% for length.  In other words, you are slender but tall for your age group.  Your doctor thinks you are cute and funny and perfectly fine.  We don't disagree.

Sweetheart, in closing, you are amazing.  You are, without a doubt, my favorite person.  I love you more than any Hallmark card can adequately describe (or ever will).  I love watching you grow and figure things out on your own.  Your giggle is my favorite sound and the way you laugh, showing all of your ever growing list of teeth is hilarious; it's infectious.  I love you, I love you, I love you.

Love always,
Momma

There Goes the Neighborhood

My son is about to turn 1.  ONE!  He has grown leaps and bounds within the past month.  He's quickly picked up crawling, pulling himself up, cruising and using his walker.  He's taken several steps but still hasn't officially let go of his walker and started walking.  I refuse to push him.  As I've noticed, I cannot force this kid to do something he doesn't want to.  He will make it known when he wants out or up, or is not happy with that piece of food you gave him.  I'm actually happy about this part of his personality; don't let anyone make you do something you don't want to.  Maybe it's the Zezatti in him.

The first birthday is coming up and I am so excited about reaching this milestone.

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.

Genetics

Lately I've begun to think about what The Kid may have inherited from me.  I'm not talking about that dimple he seems to have gotten from me or the gorgeous brown, wavy hair he has, which could have come from either one of us.  I'm more concerned about illnesses.  He's already has diabetes to worry about since I was, after all, diabetic and pregnant with him.  But, I'm more concerned about his mental health.  I've battled depression throughout my life and, after many therapy sessions, felt well enough to stop going.  Then, post partum depression hit and I had to resort to medication because no amount of therapy would have helped with what I was going through.  Recently, I've had a few setbacks that need to be addressed so I will have to make an appointment with my therapist soon.  I'm a huge advocate for mental health because I know having everything doesn't mean happiness.  Depression is awful and it's awful for those around you.  It's perfectly described in those commercials for anti-depressants.  It really does hurt all over.  Struggling to come up with a reason to get out of bed is hard if you, a non-depressive person, can understand.  Even if the only reason you have to get out of bed is to quiet a hungry cat then there is your reason.  There should be no shame in needing therapy and/or anti-depressants.  And all of this makes me think about Noah and what he may have inherited from me in this particular area.  I plan on being honest and open about my history in hopes that should he ever need help, that he can talk to me.  Isn't that every parent's wish?  To have their child feel comfortable enough to talk to them about any problems or issues they have?  I hope and pray that my son can and will.

Humpty Dumpty

That awful anniversary came and went and I forgot all about it.  I guess the trauma is slowly removing itself from the front of my brain.  This is a good thing.  However, when I close my eyes and let my mind wander there, I can still smell that day.  I can still feel the emotions of that day.  I can still feel my heart breaking into a million little pieces again.  My heart managed to piece itself back together again but not like the way it was before.

Still praying for a cure because even though it's pushed back into my head, it doesn't mean it's disappeared.  That CML is still living within my brother.  And unfortunately, anything can happen and that scares the living daylights out of me.

I love you, brother.

Happy Valentine's Day

Several years ago, the BNC and I stopped celebrating Valentine's Day.  It became so stressful trying to find a place to eat, a movie to watch, cards to find and flowers to give.  It felt like a race every year to beat the crowds and try and have a good time just so we could say that we did something on Valentine's Day when people would ask.  Ugh.  Such a chore and not many people enjoy chores.  Slowly, we stopped buying each other cards and started staying in to eat by ordering a pizza.  The flowers stopped and that was a welcome thing because I'm not too fond of flowers.  I have a brown thumb.  I can't even grow mint, the weed of herbs, so taking care of those flowers also became a chore.  Then, one year, it stopped.  We thought, "Who are we competing with to prove our love for one another?  Besides, shouldn't every day be Valentine's Day?"  Suddenly, the pressure fell off.  We lived our lives and all was grand.  And then we had our son.  As today's date crept up, I figured that I would purchase a card for my son's first Valentine's Day.  But, as soon as I thought that, things started churning in my head about this date and what it really meant.  First off, it shouldn't be a competition; it should just be a day to celebrate love of all kinds for your friends and family.  Family.  My son is my family.  And, just like that, I'm back to celebrating today.  I want to celebrate love because my son is love.  He is lucky in love and will never, ever be poor in love.  He may only be 6-months old right now but next Valentine's Day, he will have a pretty good idea of what today means.  So, the BNC and I will celebrate this day once again.  Mostly it will revolve around the love we have for our son in hopes that one day he will return the gesture to all of those who have fallen in love with him at first sight.  Who could not with this face?

So, Happy Valentine's Day, Reader.  I hope your day is full of love.  To my son, Noah, my little nutbrown hare, you are loved beyond measure.

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?

How Do You Raise a Boy?

How do you raise a boy?

I've struggled with this question since we found out we were having one so many months ago.  How do you raise one?  One that is respectful, kind, generous and loving?  Hmmm...I guess that is how you raise a girl as well.  No difference except for when puberty hits and you have to help them navigate the scary, confusing overload of emotions.

One of my ideas all along was to not push Noah into loving what I love.  I've seen so many parents push their children to love what they love and I refuse to do that to my son.  I would be ecstatic if  my son loves Spider-man as much as I do but, if he doesn't, I'll survive.  I just want to see that smile of his doing exactly what he wants to do.  Also, I didn't want to push him into being a man like John Wayne.  It's hard to be a man just as it's hard to be a woman.  It gets harder when you become a father and/or mother.  The pressure is tremendous.  I want him to be strong and thoughtful and kind and generous and respectful.

This what I want from Noah, and I hope to get to get it.

To Noah, my son...

Love Yourself

I want you to be happy with the person you choose to become and love yourself for it.

Be an optimist 

You will be happier when you look at life as in a positive light rather than a negative one.

Be a survivor and not a victim

God forbid you suffer something horrifying, don't wear it as something  to use to solicit pity or as a crutch or a hindrance preventing your life from moving forward.  The saying is true;  Shit really does happen.  It happens to a lot of people each and every day.  Some overcome them and others don't.  Try your hardest to not let it defeat you.  Don't let it define you.

Ask and/or seek help

Don't be afraid to ask for it as well as looking for help.  This goes with the aforementioned bullet point.  There is no shame in seeking professional help.  I sought professional help and I'm not ashamed to admit that.  I'm glad I did because I feel so much better about myself.

Become a Drummer

March to the beat of your own drum.  It's hard to actually do in this day and age when, sometimes, all you want to do is belong.  It's human nature to want to fit in and while it's normal, I hope you stays true to yourself and do what makes you happy.

Gender Roles

The gender roles have changed.  No longer are women "required" to stay home, raise the kids, make the yums and cater to men.  The same can be said about men.  They are not "required" to change the flat, smell like Old Spice and eat nothing but meat.  Don't ever think it is beneath you to do a load of laundry, make a meal or change a diaper.  In fact, it makes you a pretty remarkable person if you can do things and not be concerned about it being a "woman's job" or a "man's job".

XOXOXO,
Mom

It's quite the conundrum.  How do you raise a son in this world?  It's hard work being a parent when he's 5 months old so imagine trying to parent a boy who is 15?  But, I guess, in the end, we will cross that bridge when we get there.

I really hope and pray he is happy.  In the end, this is what I want.  I want my son to be happy.  If he is happy, then I will take it as a success story.

Hello 5 Month Old

My son has been doing marvelously.  He's 5 months old now and, at the risk of being hated and envied, he is one easy and happy baby.  I have no idea what I did in my life to be rewarded with such a marvelous child but I'll be sure to do it again next time.  I just hope I can remember everything.

Seriously.  I've stopped asking and started accepting that yes, I got this awesome kid who thinks I'm the funniest person alive.  I put on one of his little hats and sing, "Fat Guy in a Little Coat" from Tommy Boy and I get the loudest, breath stealing giggles from my now favorite person.

Noah, you are awesome.  I love you.  If you're reading this and it's well past 2013, just remember that I always have and always will.

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.

Solemn Days

So, high risk dictates your due date.  We will not make it to 40 weeks.  Instead, we will be induced sometime after 38 weeks which is about 2 weeks away.  At first, it caused much anxiety because we are still missing a few key items for his arrival but then excitement settled in.  We'll be meeting our son sooner than later and that make me and my body very happy.  My body is aching.  The Kid's squirms, kicks and stretches are painful.  It's not a bad thing.  After all, it's what he's supposed to be doing but oy, it hurts.  Excitement is building.

And then you have days like today where you think about the people who won't be here to greet The Kid's arrival.  People who would have beamed with pride and shed tears of happiness with you.  People that, when they held your son, would make your heart burst into a million little pieces.  People like my Grandpa.  It's makes me incredibly sad that he won't be here.  He won't be able to hold my son, his great-grandson, and beam with pride.  He won't be able to tell me how proud he is of me.  He won't be here to plant a kiss on my cheek.  Most of all, he won't be able to make me smile when I see him holding my son.

Perhaps its the rain that makes me think about all of this but, then again, I always think about that Old Man and how much it hurts to know he's not here.  The void he left me with has been there for 14 years and it still stings thinking about the day he left that void.