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.

9 Months

9 Month Stats

Weight: 20 1/4 lbs.

Length: 29"

Ranking in the 75th percentile overall

Comments:  He is long but slender for his age.  He is growing emotionally normal and is doing very well.  

Can I just say, I still cannot believe that I have a son.  I am a mother to a 9-month old son.  He's beautiful, charming, loves to eat and is the easiest baby.  Sure, sometimes he doesn't let me cook because he wants to be with me but I'm at work all day.  This is a request I cannot deny to my son.  Let's see you try.

Parenthood

What they don't tell you about Parenthood is that 99% of the time you will spend it in fear.  You will live in fear and you will love in fear.  It's an awful way to live but that's Parenthood for you.

The Kid was sick last week and, at first, I thought he had gotten what I had which was the flu.  I had to go to the doctor's because I knew I was not going to be able to beat it on my own.  Sure enough, The Kid developed a fever, puked and got a runny nose.  A doctor's visit cleared him of strep throat as well as the flu so yay.  He had the fever for the next few days until Saturday morning when he woke up with a normal temperature.  Sunday morning is when he woke up with a rash on his belly and back.  Our pediatrician indicated that it wasn't measles and it would go away on its own.  What was it?  Roseola.  You would think that it would have calmed me down but in case you haven't figured this out by now, it didn't.  It broke my heart into a billion little pieces watching The Kid smile at me as his belly was all blotchy.  Fear.  Fear, coupled with anxiety, has taken over my life.  Last night, I drifted in and out of sleep as I thought about The Kid and the illness he was going to get as the years went on.  I thought about how much anxiety it was going to give me and how I was going to keep cool hand Luking it all, as I have since his birth, while my insides caved into themselves and I screamed a billion screams while I watch my son, my beautiful son, cough and cough because he didn't know you have to cough it up and spit it out.  Fear.  Mind you, I'm not talking about making sure his new clothes were washed in Dreft and that his water only came from that endless spring in the mountains because I don't do that.  Nah.  The Kid wears new clothes that I didn't wash first, etc.  I'm not trying to raise a child who only drinks Fiji Water. (Unless I had to.)  My fear comes from the fact that I was a sick kid.  I got the flu about every other month.  My bout with chicken pox (where I was covered in it) overlapped with my bout with the measles.  I was THAT kid.  That kid who got a horrible cough because I went out at night without a jacket.  About the few things giving me any kind of comfort are simple facts such as breastfeeding and thus passing on my immunities to The Kid.  But, that is of little comfort because anything can happen.  I'm hoping and praying that he inherited his dad's knack for avoiding illness since he escaped my flu-demic.  Time will tell what side of the coin The Kid will land on.

Despite all the worry and fear consuming my life now, it's that 1% that makes it worth while.  I could have an awful day at work and come home to a baby who is all smiles and laughter and my awful day is immediately forgotten.  He's is a complete joy despite waking up at 3a today and deciding he just wanted to hang out.  That was a first.  At least he wasn't up screaming his head off or sick.  It's the little things.

Welcome to Parenthood.

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.