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.

Grown-Up Stuff

I thought I knew what fear was.  It turns out, I didn't even have the slightest of clues.  Losing this little boy, my new favorite person is fear.  I know that it's not just my heart that would be crushed but many others as well.  My son is lucky in love already simply because there are so many people that love him.  As my aunt once said, he will never, ever be poor in love.

What brings all this crazy talk up?  Well, I have to update my life insurance policy as well as create an official will.  You know, grown-up stuff.

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.