Happy Mother's Day! Many of us have amazing Mothers in our lives, whether they belong to us or not. All of the Facebook posts started me thinking about the incredible women I have in my life.
I have a three wonderful people that play the role of mother for me. The woman that gave birth to me. Bless her heart. She's the one that deserves the credit for my survival. She did allow me to live, even after I borrowed her car (more than once) when I was just 13. (See Not Like Me) She put up with my attitude and hormones. She celebrated my successes and loved me through my failures.
My "other" Mother (aka Step-Mother) came along right as I was at the age of plotting to borrow the car. She married my Dad, even though he had one teenager and two more right behind. She will earn a special place in heaven for that act alone. She too has loved and supported me though all things. She is truly one of the best mothers I know and I have two incredible siblings to show for it!
My Mother-in-law is probably the luckiest of them all. She got the good me. She didn't have to put up with my teenage antics, she never had to discipline me, cover for me or be remotely embarrassed about something I had done. She got me after the others had put in all the work. After I had learned from not only my own mothers, but the other mothers and women around me. She acquired me at my best after the other two had seen and known all about the worst. AND I even took her daughter off her hands! ;)
Thinking about how these three women touch my life on a daily basis made me think about some of the other women who have made a difference to me and mothers or not, I wanted to acknowledge some of them in some small way. Don't panic ladies... in most cases, I won't use names.
My newest friend - who I met on Craigslist. (NO, I wasn't looking for friends - I was looking for a glider.) Your story amazes me every day! You have come back from things that you only see in movies! You are a genuinely kind and wonderful person. You are an amazing mother, wife and friend.
My SoCal to Seattle Friend - You are really my vision of a warrior woman! You are so brave. You have the faith and fearlessness that most women (myself included) only dream about. You keep on going even when things don't go as planned and you never miss a beat.
Max's Workday Mommy - You know firsthand how hard it is to leave your baby at daycare. What you may not know firsthand is how awesome it is to know that your child is completely safe, well taken care of and loved while you are at work. Thank you for loving our little guy Monday - Friday!
My co-worker turned real life friend - You show me every day that you don't have to be SuperMom to be a really terrific Mom! You constantly keep me off the ledge by reminding me that even the very best moms sometimes have to give their kids frozen dinners once in awhile and that none of that matters by the end of the week.
My amazing sister-in-law - We all know what you have had to endure to be part of this family. (Ha!) You are smart, funny and courageous. You are a great Mom and a wonderful Aunt to my kiddos and I am proud to call you my sister!
Max's GodMommies - There really aren't words to explain how we feel about you two! We watched you through your adoption journey and knew that our son deserved Godparents like you. Watching and waiting through your pregnancy made us proud to call you Max's Godparents and our friends. Emersyn is one of the luckiest little girls we know!
The most talented writer I've ever met - You are not only the funniest, most kind and warm person I've ever met you are the only person I've ever met who was granted a divorce on Valentine's Day and had the heart and soul to get married again!
My friend whose heart is in Alaska - You my friend are truly one of the best women I have ever met. You are an incredible mother. You make it look so, so easy. You are a wonderful wife and while I know it's not always easy, you have more determination in your spirit than I will ever have in mine.
Oregon Mother of Three - You have endured what most of us can not even begin to imagine. Yet you went on and continue to be the kind of mother your girls can be proud of.
Last but not ever least... My very best friend on the planet - You have shown me over the last 15 years what true friendship looks like. I know without a doubt you always, ALWAYS have my back. You have dug me out of some pretty dark places and while I will probably never have the opportunity to truly repay you, I do know a few secrets and they are safe with me. Toothbrushes and Weed-Be-Gone. Enough said.
I have many friends and many who are wonderful, incredible and amazing in their own right. I can't acknowledge them all, I have to work in the morning but take a minute today to let some amazing women know how you feel about them. It may just be exactly what they need to hear.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Friday, February 4, 2011
365 Days
Exactly one year ago at this very minute my water broke. This was the first indication that our son would be born two and a half weeks early. Contractions ensued forty-five minutes later and that was a strong indication that we would be having a baby sooner rather than later. Less than five hours after that, our absolutely perfect baby boy was born. (You can read the entire birth story here: Birth Day )
One year later, our lives have changed in ways even we didn't expect. We've had to renegotiate everything in our lives from closet space to sleep. We've modified our work schedules, date nights and free time. We eat at noisy restaurants and plan trips around nap schedules. I learned to change a diaper in record time, but not before I had been peed on at least a hundred times before. I learned to nurse my son not only TO sleep but WHILE I was sleeping. I learned to make baby food and also learned that making Pomegranate Sauce should be left to the professionals. I’ve learned that the human body can survive on much less sleep than I would have ever imagined. I learned that the cry of a baby with colic can sound like the loudest cry you’ve ever heard. I also learned that the lack of sleep combined with that cry can make you cry…. sometimes in public. I learned that leaving your infant in daycare at only 12 weeks is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I learned that nursing my son through his first year of life and working full-time was not as easy as I thought it would be. I learned that sometimes people want to hang out with you just to see the baby. I learned that a baby cutting several teeth at once can drool more than a rabid Saint Bernard and I learned that even an 11 month old can do things you only thought started at “Terrible Two.”
I’ve learned that noisy restaurants don’t matter when all you care about is what your baby is “saying.” I’ve learned that being peed on, puked on and even pooped on can be funny under most circumstances because he’s just so cute, even THAT doesn’t matter. I’ve learned that making baby food made me feel a little closer to Max even when I was scrubbing Pomegranate seeds off the ceiling. I’ve learned that sleep just doesn’t matter as much as it used to. I’ve learned that in the middle of the night, no matter how exhausted I am, my son can look at me with just the slightest smile and I could stay up with him all night long. I learned that sometimes it’s just okay to cry… even in public. I learned that by making the very best possible choice for a daycare provider our son may not get to spend the days with his own Mommy but he gets to spend his days with another amazing Mommy and that is truly the next best thing. I learned that even when I was so busy and preoccupied at work that I actually forgot to attach the bottles to my pump being fortunate enough to be able to continue nursing made it all worth it. I learned that when our friends are more interested in seeing the baby than seeing us it serves as a reminder that the family unit we’ve created is strong, nurturing and stable and will be a wonderful place for Max to grow up. I’ve learned that drool (unless you’re wearing black) is virtually undetectable in a business meeting and I’ve learned that an 11 month old spitting his food out can be entertaining and even comical.
In the past 365 days I’ve learned that I’m not a perfect Mother, wife or friend. I’ve learned that I have a lot to learn about all three of those roles but I’ve also learned that when I look at the amazing blessing that we call Max, when he smiles, laughs, “talks” and even cries none of that matters because I am the perfect mother for him.
Dear Max,
On your first birthday, thank you for giving me one of the best years of my life. Thank you for your sweet smile, infectious laugh, the best hugs and the drooliest kisses. Thank you for making us laugh and reminding me that it’s okay to cry. I hope that when you are old enough to read this you will think that I’ve given you some of the best years of your life too! If not, it’s okay. We’re already saving for therapy.
I couldn’t have dreamt of a more perfect baby boy and I love you more than you will ever know!
Happy Birthday Sweet Boy!
One year later, our lives have changed in ways even we didn't expect. We've had to renegotiate everything in our lives from closet space to sleep. We've modified our work schedules, date nights and free time. We eat at noisy restaurants and plan trips around nap schedules. I learned to change a diaper in record time, but not before I had been peed on at least a hundred times before. I learned to nurse my son not only TO sleep but WHILE I was sleeping. I learned to make baby food and also learned that making Pomegranate Sauce should be left to the professionals. I’ve learned that the human body can survive on much less sleep than I would have ever imagined. I learned that the cry of a baby with colic can sound like the loudest cry you’ve ever heard. I also learned that the lack of sleep combined with that cry can make you cry…. sometimes in public. I learned that leaving your infant in daycare at only 12 weeks is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I learned that nursing my son through his first year of life and working full-time was not as easy as I thought it would be. I learned that sometimes people want to hang out with you just to see the baby. I learned that a baby cutting several teeth at once can drool more than a rabid Saint Bernard and I learned that even an 11 month old can do things you only thought started at “Terrible Two.”
I’ve learned that noisy restaurants don’t matter when all you care about is what your baby is “saying.” I’ve learned that being peed on, puked on and even pooped on can be funny under most circumstances because he’s just so cute, even THAT doesn’t matter. I’ve learned that making baby food made me feel a little closer to Max even when I was scrubbing Pomegranate seeds off the ceiling. I’ve learned that sleep just doesn’t matter as much as it used to. I’ve learned that in the middle of the night, no matter how exhausted I am, my son can look at me with just the slightest smile and I could stay up with him all night long. I learned that sometimes it’s just okay to cry… even in public. I learned that by making the very best possible choice for a daycare provider our son may not get to spend the days with his own Mommy but he gets to spend his days with another amazing Mommy and that is truly the next best thing. I learned that even when I was so busy and preoccupied at work that I actually forgot to attach the bottles to my pump being fortunate enough to be able to continue nursing made it all worth it. I learned that when our friends are more interested in seeing the baby than seeing us it serves as a reminder that the family unit we’ve created is strong, nurturing and stable and will be a wonderful place for Max to grow up. I’ve learned that drool (unless you’re wearing black) is virtually undetectable in a business meeting and I’ve learned that an 11 month old spitting his food out can be entertaining and even comical.
In the past 365 days I’ve learned that I’m not a perfect Mother, wife or friend. I’ve learned that I have a lot to learn about all three of those roles but I’ve also learned that when I look at the amazing blessing that we call Max, when he smiles, laughs, “talks” and even cries none of that matters because I am the perfect mother for him.
Dear Max,
On your first birthday, thank you for giving me one of the best years of my life. Thank you for your sweet smile, infectious laugh, the best hugs and the drooliest kisses. Thank you for making us laugh and reminding me that it’s okay to cry. I hope that when you are old enough to read this you will think that I’ve given you some of the best years of your life too! If not, it’s okay. We’re already saving for therapy.
I couldn’t have dreamt of a more perfect baby boy and I love you more than you will ever know!
Happy Birthday Sweet Boy!
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Reflections and Resolutions
It’s a New Year! Actually, it has been. For three weeks. There’s no question, 2010 was an amazing year! 2010 showed me a lot of things both about myself and about the people I surround myself with, some good, some bad but each a good lesson.
In February we added to our family with the birth of Mad Max! Our lives have never been the same and I mean that in the most positive of ways! Our family grew in size and strength as we all learned a different way of living life with a newborn in the house. As it turns out, I am much less flexible now than I was when Allyssa was a baby but I’m working on that.
Allyssa… Wow! What a year for her! My baby girl graduated high school in May. I have had hundreds of proud moments with my daughter but that (so far) was one near the top of the list. As I watched Allyssa cross the stage to get her diploma I tried hard to envision her as she was when she had her Kindergarten graduation but somehow the reality of her being a young adult took over and I couldn’t conjure up the image.
In June I moved her in to her dorm and she started a new chapter. Allyssa had a class that day, so I was going to go to the apartment early and she would meet me there afterward. I packed the car on move-in day and drove the 70+ miles in silence. When I got to the school I went to the residential office and got the key. The woman behind the desk said, “You don’t look old enough to have a daughter in college!” With that I burst into tears. It was a long day. I managed to pull it together before Allyssa came home and after the apartment was clean and everything was in its place it was time for me to go back home. Allyssa insisted on walking me to the car, even though I asked her not to since I could already feel the tears coming. As we got to the car I hugged my sweet girl and cried. I told her how much I loved her and how truly proud I was of her. She looked at me and said, “You should be proud of yourself. You got me here.” And with that… I cried some more. I see my daughter mature as the weeks go by and while I will probably always see her as my baby I couldn’t be more proud of the young woman she has become.
2010 was a year of many changes. I added a son and started sharing custody of my daughter with a state college over an hour away. I learned to manage my time at home more wisely and learned how to be okay with the fact that sometimes there just isn’t enough time in the day. I learned to truly accept people for what they are and to realize that some people are just not good. 2010 made me a better person and my resolution for 2011 is to continue that trend. Maybe I can update my blog more frequently too!
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Birth Day
It’s been two months since Max’s Birth Day and every day since then I’ve thought about writing about it… and then remembered (or was reminded) that my time is no longer my own and something else took precedence. Right this minute, I happen to have some time. How much time will be determined by the length of my son's nap, but I might as well get it started.
At the end of the work day on February 4th, my new co-worker (who was in the process of being trained to do my job while I was to be out on Maternity Leave) left me at the elevator and said, “Don’t go having a baby over the weekend!” With almost three weeks left until my due date, I had no intention of having the baby over the weekend. I laughed, drove home, ate dinner, went to Target and got on the computer while Lisa got in the shower and Allyssa prepared for school on Friday.
It was raining (again) and I was ready for the weekend. About fifteen minutes into email and Facebook, I heard a noise that can best be described as the sound you hear when someone purposefully “pops” their back or neck but I felt it in my stomach. It wasn’t painful and for a second I thought I might have ripped my pants. After all, I was 37 weeks pregnant – stranger things have happened. I stood up to find the source of the noise and to say that water was gushing out of my pants would be an understatement. I called to Lisa – at first a little panicked (mostly because there was SO MUCH WATER) and then laughed at the reality that I was in fact going to have a baby. Soon.
It was 9:00. We called the midwife to let her know what was going on and since I hadn’t yet had any contractions, she told me to go ahead and shower, try to get some sleep and if my contractions didn’t start on their own to call her in the morning. (This is one of the many wonderful things about planning for a natural childbirth!) While Lisa and Allyssa were loading the car and gathering last minute things I took a shower and dried my hair. At 9:45 I felt my first contraction. I got the timer and went about my business thinking it would 15 or more minutes before I would have another. Four minutes later I knew I wouldn’t be going to sleep – and more importantly, I knew I’d be talking to the midwife again long before the morning. We timed the contractions for about thirty minutes at four minutes apart. By 10:30 they were two minutes apart and relatively intense. By 11:00 they were a minute and a half apart and we timed them for about another half hour and then decided it was time to go. NOW!
The thirty minute ride to the hospital in the rain with very hard, very close contractions was the longest thirty minutes of my life. Allyssa followed in her car and we arrived at the hospital shortly after midnight. Allyssa and I got out at the front and Lisa went to park the cars. We walked in and were directed upstairs to labor and delivery. We took the elevator up and approximately 15 minutes later finally made it down the hall after I had to stop several times to beat on the wall to get through my contractions. Allyssa (having only attended one Bradley Class with me) did a great job talking me through and asking the nurses to wait to ask me questions until I was done. The midwife was already there and they got me to my room. I was put on a monitor for thirty minutes (standard protocol) and once that was done I was able to get up and move again. I was dilated to 8cm and my contractions were still a minute and a half apart. At this point things were getting kind of chaotic. I won’t pretend like I wasn’t in A LOT of pain, but for our family we knew natural childbirth was the way we wanted to go and I also knew at that point it couldn’t possibly be much longer. It felt like it was a hundred degrees in the room, although the nurses assured me that the thermostat was as low as it would go. Allyssa did a great job of getting me cold rags and Lisa did a great job talking me through the contractions and allowing me to use her arm as a punching bag. At the end of the work day on February 4th, my new co-worker (who was in the process of being trained to do my job while I was to be out on Maternity Leave) left me at the elevator and said, “Don’t go having a baby over the weekend!” With almost three weeks left until my due date, I had no intention of having the baby over the weekend. I laughed, drove home, ate dinner, went to Target and got on the computer while Lisa got in the shower and Allyssa prepared for school on Friday.
It was raining (again) and I was ready for the weekend. About fifteen minutes into email and Facebook, I heard a noise that can best be described as the sound you hear when someone purposefully “pops” their back or neck but I felt it in my stomach. It wasn’t painful and for a second I thought I might have ripped my pants. After all, I was 37 weeks pregnant – stranger things have happened. I stood up to find the source of the noise and to say that water was gushing out of my pants would be an understatement. I called to Lisa – at first a little panicked (mostly because there was SO MUCH WATER) and then laughed at the reality that I was in fact going to have a baby. Soon.
It was 9:00. We called the midwife to let her know what was going on and since I hadn’t yet had any contractions, she told me to go ahead and shower, try to get some sleep and if my contractions didn’t start on their own to call her in the morning. (This is one of the many wonderful things about planning for a natural childbirth!) While Lisa and Allyssa were loading the car and gathering last minute things I took a shower and dried my hair. At 9:45 I felt my first contraction. I got the timer and went about my business thinking it would 15 or more minutes before I would have another. Four minutes later I knew I wouldn’t be going to sleep – and more importantly, I knew I’d be talking to the midwife again long before the morning. We timed the contractions for about thirty minutes at four minutes apart. By 10:30 they were two minutes apart and relatively intense. By 11:00 they were a minute and a half apart and we timed them for about another half hour and then decided it was time to go. NOW!
I stood through my contractions and at some point I knew it was time. I told my midwife it was time for me to push. I laid down… and that’s what I started to do. The room was very dimly lit and as I was pushing, I was thinking about everything going on around me. I knew that everyone there – two nurses, a midwife, my spouse and my daughter were now all waiting on me to do my job. Everyone else had done theirs. The nurses and midwife had been very accommodating to our requests and had been very supportive and helpful during the last difficult hour of labor. Lisa and Allyssa had been nothing short of incredible. Helping to make me as comfortable as possible, talking me through the contractions, cheering me on and letting me know when each contraction was almost over. Although I later found out that their words of encouragement – “It’s almost over” was actually just something they were saying to pacify me. Neither had the heart to tell me when I asked only seconds in to a contraction, “How much longer??” that the contraction had only just started and there was nearly a full minute left. (This fact could present a problem with their credibility should I decide to have any other children.) My in-laws were in the waiting room and everyone was waiting on me, including my son.It was then I began to think about my son who was about to be born. With every push I thought about how loved this little boy was and he wasn’t even born yet! I looked at Lisa, wide-eyed with excitement and knew without any doubt that her life would never be the same. Allyssa, with her sweet face next to mine, I knew in that moment I couldn’t be more proud of her. With every push I knew everyone was waiting on me.
As the baby crowned, I knew I was getting closer. I knew our little family of three was about to be four and that God was about to bless us more than we could have ever imagined. I don’t know how long I pushed – Lisa said it was about ten minutes. I know that on the last push, my nurse said, “This is it!” and I pushed with everything I had, I was ready to meet our newest family member and I was ready to rest. Max Adric Bailey was born on February 5th at 2:44 AM. As he was placed on my chest, with Lisa and Allyssa beside me, at that moment there was no one else in the world but us. As we looked at Max and each other, I knew we were starting a new chapter in our lives. Lisa was about to be the mother of a newborn, Allyssa was going to be a big sister and I was about to parent a newborn in a way I never had before, as an adult, and with a partner.
About thirty minutes after Max was born, Lisa’s parents joined us in the delivery room and the birth team left us to be with our family for the next hour. We spent the next hour talking, laughing and adoring our beautiful baby boy. We left the hospital a day and a half later.
We’ve spent the last two months adjusting to life with a new baby. Allyssa has been the most amazing big sister and Max grins at the mere sound of her voice. Lisa is an amazing Mom and takes every opportunity to be with her son – even if it means that time is spent changing a dirty diaper. I have come to grips with the fact that Max is not Allyssa. He does not sleep all night and he does not wake up smiling. I am no longer making all the decisions for my child on my own and I actually have to consult with someone else on the more important ones.
Our lives have been changed. We are busy, some days we are covered up in chaos. We are unorganized and tired but as I sit here nine weeks after our son was born, finally finishing this post, I am staring at him sound asleep in his swing and know that no matter how messy my bedroom is or how little sleep I’ve had for the last nine weeks, I don’t know how we managed to live so long without him!
Friday, January 29, 2010
Thirty-six and a half weeks down….
I’ve learned a great deal about life in general while being pregnant. I’ve learned that our bodies really are amazing. A fact that escaped me when I was pregnant the first time at a very young eighteen. I’ve learned that hormones can be a powerful thing… and not always in a good way. I’ve learned that just when you thought your belly couldn’t get any bigger, it does and that no matter how much weight you have or have not gained, you still can’t bend over and touch the floor (or the numerous objects you continually drop) from a seated position. I’ve learned that if the floor wasn’t so cold, the master bathroom might be a viable sleep option since I am in there 4-6 times a night anyway.
I’ve learned that people, no matter who they are and what their intention are bound to say things that they (probably) don’t perceive as rude, but that any other pregnant woman on the planet would agree is in fact rude. The following are included in that list:
“You must be so over being pregnant!” - No, not exactly. Not every pregnant woman on the planet is miserable just waiting to get the baby out of her! However, even MORE rude than the initial assumption that you are indeed miserable is the follow up after you tell them how great your pregnancy is and how great you feel – “Well, that is just so unfair!” – Why don’t they just say, “I was miserable and I wish you were too!”
“Wow! You are HUGE!” - Thanks, I didn’t FEEL HUGE ENOUGH before you said that!
“OMG! You are even bigger than you were yesterday!!” - Really?? Even if that were true, must it be pointed out?
“You look like you could have that baby RIGHT NOW!” – Except that I’m not due for five weeks – so probably not!
“Are you SURE there’s just one in there??” – No, we decided to make it a surprise?!
“Oh… You’re pregnant???” – Seriously??? Do you think I’m just this big WITHOUT carrying a baby around in my uterus for the last 36 weeks??
And last but not least… Calling me any name other than my own. Included but not limited to; Fatty, Chunky, Preggo, etc.
I’ve come to accept all of the above as just a part of being pregnant and truthfully, I’ve enjoyed every single minute of it. The only part I haven’t accepted is that in four weeks or less – everything about our lives will change.
Stay Tuned…
I’ve learned that people, no matter who they are and what their intention are bound to say things that they (probably) don’t perceive as rude, but that any other pregnant woman on the planet would agree is in fact rude. The following are included in that list:
“You must be so over being pregnant!” - No, not exactly. Not every pregnant woman on the planet is miserable just waiting to get the baby out of her! However, even MORE rude than the initial assumption that you are indeed miserable is the follow up after you tell them how great your pregnancy is and how great you feel – “Well, that is just so unfair!” – Why don’t they just say, “I was miserable and I wish you were too!”
“Wow! You are HUGE!” - Thanks, I didn’t FEEL HUGE ENOUGH before you said that!
“OMG! You are even bigger than you were yesterday!!” - Really?? Even if that were true, must it be pointed out?
“You look like you could have that baby RIGHT NOW!” – Except that I’m not due for five weeks – so probably not!
“Are you SURE there’s just one in there??” – No, we decided to make it a surprise?!
“Oh… You’re pregnant???” – Seriously??? Do you think I’m just this big WITHOUT carrying a baby around in my uterus for the last 36 weeks??
And last but not least… Calling me any name other than my own. Included but not limited to; Fatty, Chunky, Preggo, etc.
I’ve come to accept all of the above as just a part of being pregnant and truthfully, I’ve enjoyed every single minute of it. The only part I haven’t accepted is that in four weeks or less – everything about our lives will change.
Stay Tuned…
Monday, December 14, 2009
Just Expecting Greatness
Just Expecting Greatness…. That is what I named my Blog three years ago. Little did I know how true that could become for me in just 36 short months.
In the last three years I’ve gone from being a single parent of a fourteen year old girl, living in my house, enjoying lots of closet space and my own bathroom to now parenting a mini-grown up, getting married moving her house into my house, adding two step-dogs and now expecting a baby in just ten weeks. ALL IN THIRTY SIX SHORT MONTHS! But looking back at my very first public blog entry, reading it forward, and reading my personal journals – nothing has changed. I am still expecting greatness and in many ways, I’ve found it.
Our pastor approached me after church yesterday and asked (for sermon research purposes) what am I expecting from the journey we are about to embark on. It made me think about my expectations for myself, for my family, and for this new baby and my expectations still have not changed. I am just expecting greatness.
Greatness for me isn’t fame, money, a fancy job title or an expensive car. It’s not in an overpriced home, overpriced toys and over the limit credit cards.
Greatness for me is found in the other things. Things that others may never even notice. It’s not found in my daughter’s GPA – but in her humanity and desire to make a difference in the lives of others. It’s in her genuine smile and her open mind and heart. It’s in her sincerity and her ability to just be who she is. Even when that means ripped jeans, old converse and a hoodie. It’s in looking at her and knowing that while she may never have a clean room or be a great student, she really is a great person.
It’s looking at my spouse and knowing that every day she goes to her job, she does the best job she can. That she is reliable, honest and caring. That at home, no matter how our day went, at the end of every day I know that she’s brought me closer to the greatness I am trying to achieve in my own life.
For me it’s finding the value in my relationships. It’s trying hard to be a good spouse, mother, daughter and friend… even when I feel like I am failing miserably. It’s working hard to remember that the future doesn’t have to resemble the past. It’s trying to exceed someone’s expectations every day, even if that someone is only me.
For our new journey, the expectations are relatively high. For starters, we are quite literally expecting greatness. We chose the name Max Adric for our son. Max is my grandfather’s name and Adric was Lisa’s grandfather’s middle name. When we chose the name for it's family origins, we had no idea that the name Max means "The Greatest." So he already has a lot to live up to.
We’ve spent a lot of time and money preparing for this baby. We have surrounded ourselves with great family, great friends and great support system to bring him into the best world we can provide for him. I expect to have a beautiful labor and delivery. I expect to have the perfect birth story to tell and I fully expect to lose every ounce of baby weight before I go home from the hospital. Those expectations may be slightly unworthy of reality and we’ll continue to think positively and hope for the best, but once Max is here and in our arms I truly do expect great things to happen.
I expect that I will love him as much as I thought I could love no other child since the birth of my firstborn over seventeen years ago. I expect that we’ll show him how much we love him every single day for the rest of our lives – whether he wants us to or not. I expect that I’ll be better prepared for motherhood this time around. I expect that Allyssa and Lisa will be the perfect big sister and Mom and that Max will be a very happy and much loved baby. I expect that we’ll experience some growing pains as our family expands but will look at our children – one nearly an adult – and know that we are so incredibly blessed to have been given these children, any pain is definitely worth everything we have and will continue to gain.
My expectations for Max as he grows I can only assume will change as he gets older. For now, I expect that he will take on all of the positive traits that his family has to offer and become the little person he is meant to be. I expect that he’ll have Allyssa’s happy, carefree demeanor and positive outlook. I expect him to have Lisa’s sense of humor and charm. As he grows I expect him to have strong values and a sense of responsibility, not only for himself but for the things he can change in his world. I expect him to know how loved he is and to love back with all that he has. I expect him to be everything he was put here to be and more.
I imagine him to expect great things, even if his ideas of greatness don’t always match those of the rest of the world.
In the last three years I’ve gone from being a single parent of a fourteen year old girl, living in my house, enjoying lots of closet space and my own bathroom to now parenting a mini-grown up, getting married moving her house into my house, adding two step-dogs and now expecting a baby in just ten weeks. ALL IN THIRTY SIX SHORT MONTHS! But looking back at my very first public blog entry, reading it forward, and reading my personal journals – nothing has changed. I am still expecting greatness and in many ways, I’ve found it.
Our pastor approached me after church yesterday and asked (for sermon research purposes) what am I expecting from the journey we are about to embark on. It made me think about my expectations for myself, for my family, and for this new baby and my expectations still have not changed. I am just expecting greatness.
Greatness for me isn’t fame, money, a fancy job title or an expensive car. It’s not in an overpriced home, overpriced toys and over the limit credit cards.
Greatness for me is found in the other things. Things that others may never even notice. It’s not found in my daughter’s GPA – but in her humanity and desire to make a difference in the lives of others. It’s in her genuine smile and her open mind and heart. It’s in her sincerity and her ability to just be who she is. Even when that means ripped jeans, old converse and a hoodie. It’s in looking at her and knowing that while she may never have a clean room or be a great student, she really is a great person.
It’s looking at my spouse and knowing that every day she goes to her job, she does the best job she can. That she is reliable, honest and caring. That at home, no matter how our day went, at the end of every day I know that she’s brought me closer to the greatness I am trying to achieve in my own life.
For me it’s finding the value in my relationships. It’s trying hard to be a good spouse, mother, daughter and friend… even when I feel like I am failing miserably. It’s working hard to remember that the future doesn’t have to resemble the past. It’s trying to exceed someone’s expectations every day, even if that someone is only me.
For our new journey, the expectations are relatively high. For starters, we are quite literally expecting greatness. We chose the name Max Adric for our son. Max is my grandfather’s name and Adric was Lisa’s grandfather’s middle name. When we chose the name for it's family origins, we had no idea that the name Max means "The Greatest." So he already has a lot to live up to.
We’ve spent a lot of time and money preparing for this baby. We have surrounded ourselves with great family, great friends and great support system to bring him into the best world we can provide for him. I expect to have a beautiful labor and delivery. I expect to have the perfect birth story to tell and I fully expect to lose every ounce of baby weight before I go home from the hospital. Those expectations may be slightly unworthy of reality and we’ll continue to think positively and hope for the best, but once Max is here and in our arms I truly do expect great things to happen.
I expect that I will love him as much as I thought I could love no other child since the birth of my firstborn over seventeen years ago. I expect that we’ll show him how much we love him every single day for the rest of our lives – whether he wants us to or not. I expect that I’ll be better prepared for motherhood this time around. I expect that Allyssa and Lisa will be the perfect big sister and Mom and that Max will be a very happy and much loved baby. I expect that we’ll experience some growing pains as our family expands but will look at our children – one nearly an adult – and know that we are so incredibly blessed to have been given these children, any pain is definitely worth everything we have and will continue to gain.
My expectations for Max as he grows I can only assume will change as he gets older. For now, I expect that he will take on all of the positive traits that his family has to offer and become the little person he is meant to be. I expect that he’ll have Allyssa’s happy, carefree demeanor and positive outlook. I expect him to have Lisa’s sense of humor and charm. As he grows I expect him to have strong values and a sense of responsibility, not only for himself but for the things he can change in his world. I expect him to know how loved he is and to love back with all that he has. I expect him to be everything he was put here to be and more.
I imagine him to expect great things, even if his ideas of greatness don’t always match those of the rest of the world.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
National Coming Out Day
Today was National Coming Out Day. A day when Americans should feel comfortable enough in their own skin to “come out,” as in, out of the closet. I myself, as well as my spouse are already very comfortable in our skin and it is not a secret of any kind that we are gay. By choice we live in a very conservative state and an even more conservative county, but that does not and has not ever kept us from living our lives genuinely and we’ve never had any regrets about doing that. In fact, I oftentimes forget that our family is in a situation where we have to “come out” at all. We live like our neighbors, we work, we have a well-adjusted child, we belong to an amazing church and we have incredible friends – most of whom are not gay at all.
We have never felt personally discriminated against and while this is truly a wonderful thing it makes you forget the really important ways that the gay community IS discriminated against. This is not a political post per se, and most of you know, I don’t use the rainbow card often – but sitting in my attorney’s office two days before National Coming Out Day reminded me of why it’s important. Not only for us as gays and lesbians to live our lives genuinely, but for our straight friends and family to live that way too.
To date we’ve spent the better part of $10,000 to become pregnant with Max. TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS. To some people that is a new car, a down payment on a house or college tuition. We discussed the possibilities, pros and cons of having a baby long before we ever made an appointment with the fertility clinic. We had many conversations about how we would raise this child, the issues we might face being a two mom household with an infant and how our family and friends would react. After the decision was finally made – we began our journey. A decision made with such care and thought, we made the step and ten thousand very well spent dollars later, we are pregnant with our son.
Most people, even some of the most educated people I know are baffled by the amount of money it took and believe me when I tell you I know we were lucky to have gotten pregnant for that amount of money. We have friends who have spent double or even triple that to become parents. The even more unfathomable piece to that is that we are not done spending money to be parents.
We sat in our attorney’s office on Friday afternoon to determine the steps we have to go through to make Lisa Max’s LEGAL parent. After all the time, thought and money we’ve put into the decision to become parents, in the eyes of the law, Lisa is still not considered to be Max’s parent. If she were a man and we had met in a bar, had a one night stand and I had gotten pregnant – THEN she’d be his legal parent but the law doesn’t see our diligence, care and determination to be parents as a good enough reason to allow Lisa to parent. Instead, we have to go through an adoption process. Yes, Lisa will have to adopt our baby.
That may seem like an easy answer, but in the state of Georgia – of 159 counties there are only FOUR counties where a same-gender second parent adoption has been granted and the county we live in is not one of those counties. This means our family has to establish a “residence” in one of the other counties so that we may file our adoption papers there. It can be a temporary residence, but one has to be established. So the house that I have owned for six years, the taxes I have paid for six years, the community that I have supported for six years…. None of that matters, because I am a pregnant lesbian.
The laws set up to protect the sanctity of marriage against the gays are discriminating against our children. If for any reason we were unable to follow through with a second parent adoption, Max would be born with only one legal parent – and if anything were to happen to me, Lisa could be living without her son and Max would be living without his other mom. So we paid our $500.00 consult / start up fee and when Max is born we’ll pay another $1500.00 to give Lisa the legal rights to the son she so desperately wanted. We’ll also be paying to give Max the rights to his Mom.
Next time a vote for gay marriage comes up in your state, think about the other ways these laws discriminate against gay and lesbian families and most importantly, their (presumably) straight children.
We have never felt personally discriminated against and while this is truly a wonderful thing it makes you forget the really important ways that the gay community IS discriminated against. This is not a political post per se, and most of you know, I don’t use the rainbow card often – but sitting in my attorney’s office two days before National Coming Out Day reminded me of why it’s important. Not only for us as gays and lesbians to live our lives genuinely, but for our straight friends and family to live that way too.
To date we’ve spent the better part of $10,000 to become pregnant with Max. TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS. To some people that is a new car, a down payment on a house or college tuition. We discussed the possibilities, pros and cons of having a baby long before we ever made an appointment with the fertility clinic. We had many conversations about how we would raise this child, the issues we might face being a two mom household with an infant and how our family and friends would react. After the decision was finally made – we began our journey. A decision made with such care and thought, we made the step and ten thousand very well spent dollars later, we are pregnant with our son.
Most people, even some of the most educated people I know are baffled by the amount of money it took and believe me when I tell you I know we were lucky to have gotten pregnant for that amount of money. We have friends who have spent double or even triple that to become parents. The even more unfathomable piece to that is that we are not done spending money to be parents.
We sat in our attorney’s office on Friday afternoon to determine the steps we have to go through to make Lisa Max’s LEGAL parent. After all the time, thought and money we’ve put into the decision to become parents, in the eyes of the law, Lisa is still not considered to be Max’s parent. If she were a man and we had met in a bar, had a one night stand and I had gotten pregnant – THEN she’d be his legal parent but the law doesn’t see our diligence, care and determination to be parents as a good enough reason to allow Lisa to parent. Instead, we have to go through an adoption process. Yes, Lisa will have to adopt our baby.
That may seem like an easy answer, but in the state of Georgia – of 159 counties there are only FOUR counties where a same-gender second parent adoption has been granted and the county we live in is not one of those counties. This means our family has to establish a “residence” in one of the other counties so that we may file our adoption papers there. It can be a temporary residence, but one has to be established. So the house that I have owned for six years, the taxes I have paid for six years, the community that I have supported for six years…. None of that matters, because I am a pregnant lesbian.
The laws set up to protect the sanctity of marriage against the gays are discriminating against our children. If for any reason we were unable to follow through with a second parent adoption, Max would be born with only one legal parent – and if anything were to happen to me, Lisa could be living without her son and Max would be living without his other mom. So we paid our $500.00 consult / start up fee and when Max is born we’ll pay another $1500.00 to give Lisa the legal rights to the son she so desperately wanted. We’ll also be paying to give Max the rights to his Mom.
Next time a vote for gay marriage comes up in your state, think about the other ways these laws discriminate against gay and lesbian families and most importantly, their (presumably) straight children.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
21 Weeks... and counting.
I can hardly believe it's been 21 weeks already! Finding out you're pregnant literally on your tenth day after conception can make time go by a little slowly - but looking back on the last 21 weeks -- it hasn't been so bad.
My pregnancy has continued to be one of the easiest things I've ever done and I still feel great! Aside from the occasional heartburn, it's been a really wonderful experience! We had our anatomy scan two weeks ago and found out that we are indeed having a boy! Lisa LITERALLY jumped up and down and has been grinning from ear to ear ever since. Allyssa is also excited to be having a baby brother and we are all preparing for how life will change once we have a little one in the house. He may be the one who needs to prepare since we've been testosterone free for over a decade! :)
We finally decided on a name for our little man last weekend. In the running were; Mason, Sawyer, Kellen and Max and Grant. We finally agreed on Max. Max is my grandfathers name and the middle name, Adric - was Lisa's grandfather's middle name.
SO... In just 19 weeks he'll be here. Max Adric Bailey. I can only hope the last half of my pregnancy goes as wonderfully smooth as the first half has!
My pregnancy has continued to be one of the easiest things I've ever done and I still feel great! Aside from the occasional heartburn, it's been a really wonderful experience! We had our anatomy scan two weeks ago and found out that we are indeed having a boy! Lisa LITERALLY jumped up and down and has been grinning from ear to ear ever since. Allyssa is also excited to be having a baby brother and we are all preparing for how life will change once we have a little one in the house. He may be the one who needs to prepare since we've been testosterone free for over a decade! :)
We finally decided on a name for our little man last weekend. In the running were; Mason, Sawyer, Kellen and Max and Grant. We finally agreed on Max. Max is my grandfathers name and the middle name, Adric - was Lisa's grandfather's middle name.
SO... In just 19 weeks he'll be here. Max Adric Bailey. I can only hope the last half of my pregnancy goes as wonderfully smooth as the first half has!
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Birthday Breakfast
Today was our 4th Annual Birthday Breakfast. For those that don’t know, birthday breakfast typically takes place on Allyssa’s birthday. We get up early, we pick up two of Allyssa’s best friends and then we go to Cracker Barrel. The girls are always in their pajamas and Allyssa is always wearing a tiara. There have been talks of adding boas or a birthday sash and I think the idea of going into C.B. in a wagon even came up once, although that never materialized. Cracker Barrel is never really crowded at 6:30 in the morning, but we are always the youngest people in there.
We’ve done Birthday Breakfast since Allyssa was a freshman, a tradition I wish we’d had begun earlier. From the silly, Layla wishing for a serenade from E.W. until K.S. stole him away – which we established this morning wasn’t necessarily a bad thing since E.W. turned out to be a dirt bag. To the serious, which I won’t discuss here but the one I’m talking about will know who she is and what it was. I think we’ve covered it all. They laugh with each other, they laugh at each other and they make each other laugh.
Not a whole lot has changed since our first Birthday Breakfast. Physically, they all look about the same. I think Layla will always have long curly red hair and while Allison’s hair has purple streaks in it at the moment, the girls just are who they are and have been since the day I met them. I watched the girls this morning and much like that first birthday breakfast four years ago, the girls were happy and excited. Allison ate off everyone’s plate and probably could have eaten more, Layla pretended she would share the last bite of the birthday cake and ice cream but then scooped it all up and finished it off herself. Allyssa had us all on the verge of wetting our pants when our crabby waitress decided to sing Happy Birthday in hushed tones and then Allyssa proceeded to imitate her with amazing accuracy.
I watched the girls and thought about the kind of women they are becoming and the kind of friends they have been to Allyssa. I thought of her other best friend Megan who goes to a different school and couldn’t attend birthday breakfast and wondered how one child, my child, has managed to surround herself with such good kids. I thought of their families and the friendship their own parents have shown us. I wondered if their parents know what amazing young women they've all turned out to be. Megan with her strong values, intelligence and ability to make us all laugh, Allison with her determination, naiveté and ability to laugh at herself, Layla with an incredible sense of self, her convictions and her ability to make light of any situation and Allyssa with her sense of humor, open mind and genuinely sweet spirit. I thought of the other “friends” Allyssa has had along the way – the ones that I knew very early on would be trouble and thought about all the reasons these four turned out different.
I was saddened by the thought that for next years birthday breakfast I just might be alone since the girls could very well all be away at different colleges. I thought about how much these girls mean to Allyssa and how much their friendship to her has meant to me. I thought about how truly blessed my daughter is to have such strong, amazing young women as her best friends. I thought of my own best friends from junior high and high school, some who are still dear friends to this day and hoped that these girls know what a true gift their friendship is.
We’ve done Birthday Breakfast since Allyssa was a freshman, a tradition I wish we’d had begun earlier. From the silly, Layla wishing for a serenade from E.W. until K.S. stole him away – which we established this morning wasn’t necessarily a bad thing since E.W. turned out to be a dirt bag. To the serious, which I won’t discuss here but the one I’m talking about will know who she is and what it was. I think we’ve covered it all. They laugh with each other, they laugh at each other and they make each other laugh.
Not a whole lot has changed since our first Birthday Breakfast. Physically, they all look about the same. I think Layla will always have long curly red hair and while Allison’s hair has purple streaks in it at the moment, the girls just are who they are and have been since the day I met them. I watched the girls this morning and much like that first birthday breakfast four years ago, the girls were happy and excited. Allison ate off everyone’s plate and probably could have eaten more, Layla pretended she would share the last bite of the birthday cake and ice cream but then scooped it all up and finished it off herself. Allyssa had us all on the verge of wetting our pants when our crabby waitress decided to sing Happy Birthday in hushed tones and then Allyssa proceeded to imitate her with amazing accuracy.
I watched the girls and thought about the kind of women they are becoming and the kind of friends they have been to Allyssa. I thought of her other best friend Megan who goes to a different school and couldn’t attend birthday breakfast and wondered how one child, my child, has managed to surround herself with such good kids. I thought of their families and the friendship their own parents have shown us. I wondered if their parents know what amazing young women they've all turned out to be. Megan with her strong values, intelligence and ability to make us all laugh, Allison with her determination, naiveté and ability to laugh at herself, Layla with an incredible sense of self, her convictions and her ability to make light of any situation and Allyssa with her sense of humor, open mind and genuinely sweet spirit. I thought of the other “friends” Allyssa has had along the way – the ones that I knew very early on would be trouble and thought about all the reasons these four turned out different.
I was saddened by the thought that for next years birthday breakfast I just might be alone since the girls could very well all be away at different colleges. I thought about how much these girls mean to Allyssa and how much their friendship to her has meant to me. I thought about how truly blessed my daughter is to have such strong, amazing young women as her best friends. I thought of my own best friends from junior high and high school, some who are still dear friends to this day and hoped that these girls know what a true gift their friendship is.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Nameless Peanut
Nameless Peanut. That is what we are calling our baby. Nameless Peanut Bailey. We don't know what we are having yet, we can't agree on a name and at last look our little fetus resembled a peanut. So there ya go...
We were 9 weeks and three days pregnant when we met our midwife for the first time. We thought we would get to hear the heartbeat but couldn't so she let us look at NPB instead. We sat in the ultrasound room waiting on our midwife (who is ABSOLUTELY amazing by the way) and were talking and laughing. The midwife came in and we started looking for NPB and there he/she was! Moving around like he/she was doing the Cha Cha Slide and posing for the ultrasound camera.
I looked at Lisa and was reminded how much my life had changed in the last three years. I was reminded with every laugh how blessed I am to have found who I believe to be my souls mate and how incredibly lucky we both are to be experiencing this together. I thought of our friends and family and realized how deeply loved this child will be. I thought of Allyssa and how I would have loved to have had an older sister who will be as great as she will be! I thought of our parents and know that even though they sometimes struggle with our family make up, they'll continue to be the most terrific grandparents a child could ask for. I thought about our house, our cars and our neighborhood. I thought about how much we have to offer this child and how much this child will have to offer us. As the midwife printed off our picture and turned off the ultrasound machine I thought about how in love we are with our little peanut and he / she doesn't even have a name yet!
All is well in pregnancy land.
We were 9 weeks and three days pregnant when we met our midwife for the first time. We thought we would get to hear the heartbeat but couldn't so she let us look at NPB instead. We sat in the ultrasound room waiting on our midwife (who is ABSOLUTELY amazing by the way) and were talking and laughing. The midwife came in and we started looking for NPB and there he/she was! Moving around like he/she was doing the Cha Cha Slide and posing for the ultrasound camera.
I looked at Lisa and was reminded how much my life had changed in the last three years. I was reminded with every laugh how blessed I am to have found who I believe to be my souls mate and how incredibly lucky we both are to be experiencing this together. I thought of our friends and family and realized how deeply loved this child will be. I thought of Allyssa and how I would have loved to have had an older sister who will be as great as she will be! I thought of our parents and know that even though they sometimes struggle with our family make up, they'll continue to be the most terrific grandparents a child could ask for. I thought about our house, our cars and our neighborhood. I thought about how much we have to offer this child and how much this child will have to offer us. As the midwife printed off our picture and turned off the ultrasound machine I thought about how in love we are with our little peanut and he / she doesn't even have a name yet!
All is well in pregnancy land.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Pregnant...Again.
So… I’m pregnant. Again. I haven’t been pregnant in almost seventeen years, but this time I’m pregnant on purpose. If you are a reader of my blog or just a friend, you probably know about my first pregnancy so I won’t bore you again with all the details, but will update new readers on the basic facts: I was a relatively responsible teenager, on birth control pills, even took them every day, had sex three times and was pregnant at seventeen. It was shocking, difficult and frightening at times – but sixteen years later I have an incredibly amazing daughter to show for it. There are several past blogs with details about how great she is if you’re interested.
So here I am again… Much older, I hope to be much wiser and 8 weeks pregnant. (By the time you read this blog I am more likely to be 12-14 weeks pregnant.)
So here I am again… Much older, I hope to be much wiser and 8 weeks pregnant. (By the time you read this blog I am more likely to be 12-14 weeks pregnant.)
It is absolutely mind-boggling how things change in seventeen years! I was speaking to my friend Cerena on the phone last night. She gave birth to her first daughter the day after I gave birth to mine. A few years later she had a son and ten years after that she had another son and now has an additional daughter who is two. We discussed how different our grown up pregnancies were from our teen pregnancies. When I was pregnant with Allyssa I had zero fear of anything other than gaining weight and my skin breaking out. I didn’t fear miscarriage, genetic disorders or SIDS. I didn’t obsess over the size of my fetus, my HcG levels, how fast or slow the heart rate was and whether or not I should eat certain cheeses. With the Internet and age, I’ve learned to obsess (rather well, I might add) about all those things and more. I have visited more pregnancy web sites than I ever would have imagined existed. I have read about the baby’s development from week 4 to week 40 more times than I can count and have the “How Big Is My Baby” chart memorized. For the record, Baby Bailey is about the size of a grape this week! When I was pregnant with my daughter, I threw up daily from week 7 to week 18. When I reached week seven of this pregnancy and wasn’t sick, I was instantly worried (not relieved) that something must be wrong. With every ache, cramp and twinge, I am certain that something could be going wrong and on most occasions I’ll spontaneously burst out in tears.
This brings me to hormones…. When I was pregnant at seventeen, I didn’t notice any changes to my body – other than my jeans were too tight and that throwing up thing. I didn’t recognize the difference in my emotions; I was a seventeen year old girl, I was probably already moody. At 35, things are very different. For instance, Braves player Jeff Francoeur was traded to the Mets last week. The Mets played the Braves at home last night and when Francoeur came up to bat, the Atlanta crowd gave him a standing ovation and the pitcher stepped off the mound to give him a few seconds to take everything in. I wasn’t at the game, didn’t even watch it on TV. I am a Braves fan and I guess Jeff Francoeur is a good guy but don’t know for sure. However, when I heard the sports news on the radio and heard the DJ talk about the crowd and the standing ovation. I literally cried. AND I recognized that it was ridiculous – which I think might make me even crazier! I cry over my Pastors blogs, I cry over movies, television shows and commercials. I cried yesterday after my conversation with Cerena and she told me she loved it that her last two didn’t sleep all night because she wanted to have more time with them. I’ve turned into my own water source!
Other than the obsessing, crying and the need for an 8:00 pm bedtime… my pregnancy is going great and we can’t wait for the next 32 weeks!
This brings me to hormones…. When I was pregnant at seventeen, I didn’t notice any changes to my body – other than my jeans were too tight and that throwing up thing. I didn’t recognize the difference in my emotions; I was a seventeen year old girl, I was probably already moody. At 35, things are very different. For instance, Braves player Jeff Francoeur was traded to the Mets last week. The Mets played the Braves at home last night and when Francoeur came up to bat, the Atlanta crowd gave him a standing ovation and the pitcher stepped off the mound to give him a few seconds to take everything in. I wasn’t at the game, didn’t even watch it on TV. I am a Braves fan and I guess Jeff Francoeur is a good guy but don’t know for sure. However, when I heard the sports news on the radio and heard the DJ talk about the crowd and the standing ovation. I literally cried. AND I recognized that it was ridiculous – which I think might make me even crazier! I cry over my Pastors blogs, I cry over movies, television shows and commercials. I cried yesterday after my conversation with Cerena and she told me she loved it that her last two didn’t sleep all night because she wanted to have more time with them. I’ve turned into my own water source!
Other than the obsessing, crying and the need for an 8:00 pm bedtime… my pregnancy is going great and we can’t wait for the next 32 weeks!
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Moving on to Plan B
So we've had three more fertility cycles since my last post (Soooooo???? February 2009) my intention was to write and write until I couldn't write anymore and document the entire process. However, the failed cycles cut a lot deeper than I ever thought they would and I was simply tired of talking about it. So I stopped.
We started our Journey To Baby Bailey in May of 2008, so EVERY MONTH for over a year I've been poked, prodded and / or peed on a stick to check my ovulation and in three of the cycles to check for pregnancy and frankly - I was over it. I thought when we started this we would try until we got pregnant. SEVERAL thousand dollars later and countless hours of tears, I was done. I thought I was stronger but I just didn't have it in me.
I went through all of the emotions and with each failed cycle it got worse. I looked around at countless children who are not adequately cared for by their parents and wondered how someone like that could have not one... but two... or three or more children but we couldn't manage to get one. I heard the good news of friends and family members who were adding to their families and wondered why it seemed so easy for the rest of the world but it wasn't happening for us?
After the third failed cycle, I admitted defeat and we talked about ending our fertility treatments. We talked about money, we talked about the emotional aspect and we talked about regret. At that point we decided to give it one more try. I knew for the sake of my amazing family, I should try one more time. We had enough room in the budget for one more round and I felt like Lisa deserved that. I have a child and know that there is nothing better (to me) than being that child's mom but Lisa didn't know what that was like. I felt like I owed it to her, myself and our family to try again... and we did.
I spent the week of the pending insemination irritated and almost angry. I was angry at the money we had spent. I was angry at the results and I was angry that almost a year of my life had been lost to failed fertility treatment. The day of the insemination (one of two – since our doctor inseminates twice per ovulation) I waited in the doctors office and was looking around with the understanding that this would be one of the last times I sat in this office for this procedure. I was relieved. When I was called back and the doctor came in she said, “It’s good to see you.” I said, “It’s good to see you too, but I’m really getting tired of hanging out with you people.” She laughed. I told her I was on my way to Six Flags that morning when I got the Smiley Face indicating ovulation and asked her if it was okay to go forward with our day as planned. She said yes… and we completed the procedure in silence. I was bored. I didn’t lie there staring at the ceiling like before with visions of chubby faced babies and pacifiers running through my head. I stared at the ceiling tiles and wondered how long the line to Superman would be when we finally got to Six Flags. My mind and heart had clearly moved on. It was then I made the decision to move on to Plan B.
Plan B is what a lot of 35 year olds dream of. It’s having raised your child, sent her off to college, having no bills except the mortgage and vacationing at very cool places a couple of times a year with NO KIDS, all before the ripe old age of thirty-six! It's moving in town because you don't care what school district you live in, it's driving a two-door, staying up late and sleeping in until noon. It’s eating where you want and not wondering if the restaurant has a kids menu or a high chair. It’s laughing on the inside when your friends with infants can’t hang out past eleven because the babysitter has a curfew. It’s long motorcycle rides and overnight trips to nowhere, for no reason. It’s wearing your “good” clothes because you know they won’t get spit up on and it’s having a family, a career and a savings account and never again having to clean up a toddlers vomit. The more I thought about Plan B, the more I was getting used to it. If we couldn’t have another child we might as well be young enough to enjoy our empty nest! Separately, if my wonderfully amazing daughter follows the plan I have in mind for her – she’d still make me a Grandma before I hit fifty and I’ve heard that is an even better alternative. You can send those kids home! Yes, I had decided... Plan B was a good way to go.
I finished the first week following insemination and truthfully never really thought of it again. We talked about the new car we were going to be buying now that our sixteen year old had taken over the family sedan and decided where we would go on Allyssa’s graduation cruise. I went to work and shared with the one co-worker and friend who knew we had gone ahead with the fourth and final try that I truly had gotten over it. I was very ready for another negative pregnancy test so that I could move on with my life, so that I could get busy on Plan B! I even continued to use the Espresso machine that I got for Mother’s Day and had adjusted (rather excitedly) to the fact that I will never in my life have to change a diaper unless I just want to. The second week I could feel the elation in knowing that on Monday, June 15th (the day after we got confirmation from the fertility clinic that we were once again negative) my life would continue on, KNOWING not WONDERING that we would continue to be blessed with the one and only child that we already have.
Friday, June 12th at 4:30 AM I got up to get ready for work. I walked into the bathroom and looked at the pregnancy tests staring at me from the cabinet. I decided to take one since we were having dinner with friends the next day and I was more than happy to be able to indulge in a margarita… or three. In less than five minutes, Plan B went out the window with one word…. “Pregnant.” I picked up the Clear Blue Easy and looked at it again. I stared at it for what felt like an hour but I am sure was less than a minute. My eyes filled with tears and I went and woke Lisa with the news. I was physically shaking when I told her and we both agreed that it was a very bizarre feeling to be so completely surprised to be pregnant when we had been trying so hard to become that way.
So… Plan B has now reverted back to what THIS particular 35 year old is now dreaming of. Morning sickness, weight gain, out of control emotions and child birth. Late nights, early mornings, diapers, spit up and sneakers instead of four inch heels. An SUV instead of a two-door and a nursery instead of an office. Chubby cheeks, toothless grins, the smell of baby lotion and the sight of tiny toes. Watching a child grow into an amazing young person like their older sister who is a happy, healthy, extremely well-adjusted sixteen year old who will be seventeen when she FINALLY gets a sibling. Having it all… my family, my career and a baby that will have cost us more to get him / her here than it will cost us in his / her first year of life… all the while I will love every single second of it. Morning sickness and all!
I finished the first week following insemination and truthfully never really thought of it again. We talked about the new car we were going to be buying now that our sixteen year old had taken over the family sedan and decided where we would go on Allyssa’s graduation cruise. I went to work and shared with the one co-worker and friend who knew we had gone ahead with the fourth and final try that I truly had gotten over it. I was very ready for another negative pregnancy test so that I could move on with my life, so that I could get busy on Plan B! I even continued to use the Espresso machine that I got for Mother’s Day and had adjusted (rather excitedly) to the fact that I will never in my life have to change a diaper unless I just want to. The second week I could feel the elation in knowing that on Monday, June 15th (the day after we got confirmation from the fertility clinic that we were once again negative) my life would continue on, KNOWING not WONDERING that we would continue to be blessed with the one and only child that we already have.
Friday, June 12th at 4:30 AM I got up to get ready for work. I walked into the bathroom and looked at the pregnancy tests staring at me from the cabinet. I decided to take one since we were having dinner with friends the next day and I was more than happy to be able to indulge in a margarita… or three. In less than five minutes, Plan B went out the window with one word…. “Pregnant.” I picked up the Clear Blue Easy and looked at it again. I stared at it for what felt like an hour but I am sure was less than a minute. My eyes filled with tears and I went and woke Lisa with the news. I was physically shaking when I told her and we both agreed that it was a very bizarre feeling to be so completely surprised to be pregnant when we had been trying so hard to become that way.
So… Plan B has now reverted back to what THIS particular 35 year old is now dreaming of. Morning sickness, weight gain, out of control emotions and child birth. Late nights, early mornings, diapers, spit up and sneakers instead of four inch heels. An SUV instead of a two-door and a nursery instead of an office. Chubby cheeks, toothless grins, the smell of baby lotion and the sight of tiny toes. Watching a child grow into an amazing young person like their older sister who is a happy, healthy, extremely well-adjusted sixteen year old who will be seventeen when she FINALLY gets a sibling. Having it all… my family, my career and a baby that will have cost us more to get him / her here than it will cost us in his / her first year of life… all the while I will love every single second of it. Morning sickness and all!
Monday, August 3, 2009
Seniors 2010
Seniors 2010... that is what I heard and saw all weekend long. When my daughter excitedly talked to her friends on the phone about the impending first day of school and the fact that they are now Seniors. More than one of her friends who are on my Facebook friends list commented on the fact in their Facebook status updates. From my faux daughter Allision - "I'm not excited about school tomorrow, but I'm a Senior!!" From someone else that will remain anonymous - "Seniors 2010 - F*@K Yeah!" And my favorite from my would be adopted son Evan - ... "I've already got Senioritis!" Allyssa's update was an inside joke from our Annual Mother / Daughter weekend.... That thankfully did not include the F word.
It's hard to believe that my daughter is a Senior in high school. I remember my Mom telling me that time flies. She wasn't lying. On an almost daily basis it feels like yesterday that we were going to pre-school. For twelve years I've driven Allyssa to school on the first day. Even last year when she had friends that were driving I still drove her and faux daughter Allison to school. I always expect a hug and a kiss and last year, the front of the school was packed with kids and she didn't want to hug and kiss me goodbye. I told her that if she didn't, I would start honking the horn until she did. She laughed (although I wasn't kidding) and promptly gave me a hug and a kiss.
Yesterday on our way home from Mother / Daughter weekend we talked about the upcoming school week and talked about clothes, friends and lunch. Allyssa stopped and said, "Oh! This is the first year I get to drive to school!" I said, "Oh yeah! Did you get your parking permit?" "No, we pick them up in the morning! But this is the first year you won't have to drive me to school!" The very second she finished her sentence I could feel the lump in my throat and my face begin to get red. I knew I was going to cry right then... And I did.
This morning I woke Allyssa up as I was leaving for work. I went in and sat on the side of her bed for a minute. I looked at the child who on her first day of Kindegarten was just over 35 pounds. The child who for five basketball seasons was dwarfed by other girls her age. The child whose first pair of soccer cleats had to be ordered because I couldn't find them to fit her tiny feet. I looked at my child now, standing as tall (or as short) as I am, the child who wears the same size shoe I do and the child who is now old enough to work, drive and date. I touched the side of her face and told her it was time to wake up. She opened one eye and gave me a half smile and closed her eyes again. I kissed her cheek, reminded her of the time and told her to have a great day. I stood up and looked at my child, the child who lives for music, text messaging and chinese food. My child who no longer needs a ride on the first day of school and who will never again be bullied into hugging and kissing her Mom goodbye in the school parking lot. I turned to walk away and she said in a half asleep voice, "Momma... I love you." I looked back and saw my teenager. A kid who doesn't have a mean bone in her body, a kid with a great sense of humor, who loves her friends and even still loves her family. A kid who even though she can't remember to feed the dogs or hang up her towel is still by all accounts (not just that of her Mother) one of the greatest teenagers around!
It's hard to believe that my daughter is a Senior in high school. I remember my Mom telling me that time flies. She wasn't lying. On an almost daily basis it feels like yesterday that we were going to pre-school. For twelve years I've driven Allyssa to school on the first day. Even last year when she had friends that were driving I still drove her and faux daughter Allison to school. I always expect a hug and a kiss and last year, the front of the school was packed with kids and she didn't want to hug and kiss me goodbye. I told her that if she didn't, I would start honking the horn until she did. She laughed (although I wasn't kidding) and promptly gave me a hug and a kiss.
Yesterday on our way home from Mother / Daughter weekend we talked about the upcoming school week and talked about clothes, friends and lunch. Allyssa stopped and said, "Oh! This is the first year I get to drive to school!" I said, "Oh yeah! Did you get your parking permit?" "No, we pick them up in the morning! But this is the first year you won't have to drive me to school!" The very second she finished her sentence I could feel the lump in my throat and my face begin to get red. I knew I was going to cry right then... And I did.
This morning I woke Allyssa up as I was leaving for work. I went in and sat on the side of her bed for a minute. I looked at the child who on her first day of Kindegarten was just over 35 pounds. The child who for five basketball seasons was dwarfed by other girls her age. The child whose first pair of soccer cleats had to be ordered because I couldn't find them to fit her tiny feet. I looked at my child now, standing as tall (or as short) as I am, the child who wears the same size shoe I do and the child who is now old enough to work, drive and date. I touched the side of her face and told her it was time to wake up. She opened one eye and gave me a half smile and closed her eyes again. I kissed her cheek, reminded her of the time and told her to have a great day. I stood up and looked at my child, the child who lives for music, text messaging and chinese food. My child who no longer needs a ride on the first day of school and who will never again be bullied into hugging and kissing her Mom goodbye in the school parking lot. I turned to walk away and she said in a half asleep voice, "Momma... I love you." I looked back and saw my teenager. A kid who doesn't have a mean bone in her body, a kid with a great sense of humor, who loves her friends and even still loves her family. A kid who even though she can't remember to feed the dogs or hang up her towel is still by all accounts (not just that of her Mother) one of the greatest teenagers around!
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Times... They just might be changing...
I spent my entire weekend in church. Friday night I was at a wedding rehearsal to meter the lighting for the wedding I was to shoot the next day. Saturday I arrived an hour and a half before the wedding to prepare and shoot the details. As I prepared, I watched as everyone else also prepared. The wedding planner was gathering last minute items, waiting on the caterer and lighting candles. The musician arrived and was tuning her guitar. The sound guy was setting up her mic and the cake was coming in the door. The minutes passed quickly and before I knew it, the right song was playing and I knew it was time. The candles lit, the music perfect, the pastor entered and the attendants followed. The couple’s song began and they entered the church together. Hand in hand they walked down the aisle and met the pastor at the front of the church, in front of the communion table. This wasn’t my first job as a wedding photographer, but it was my first experience in the UCC Church setting.
The pastor gave the standard announcement and the couple joined hands and prayed. There were a couple of readings and a short homily. The pastor invited the wedding guests to stand and offer their support to the couple and then the couple passed their wedding rings around the church so that every individual could bless the rings in their own way. As the photographer, all of this is kind of a blur. I am not sure if I have the order of events correct and I am not even sure if there may have been another song in there somewhere. As the photographer, you get lost in the moment of the frame and lose some of the experience....
Sunday we slept in but I made my way toward the church at 12:30 for Confirmation Class. No... I am not being confirmed at 35 years old. I was actually asked to be a confirmation mentor. A thought that still gives me pause.... Me. A confirmation MENTOR?? A MENTOR FOR A TEENAGER? I was pregnant at 17, married at 18 and divorced at 20. Ten years ago I discovered my inner Lesbian and last year ran off an married a woman! Am I really fit to be anyone's mentor? Apparently at my church they think I am. I sat in the class and listened. I listened as the kids, some wiser than they should be at fourteen talked about how they haven't been welcomed at other churches because of the religious beliefs of their parents among other things. I looked around and listened to these middle and high school students talk about what they thought prayer was, what they thought worship was and what part of worship was important to them. We talked about communion and what it means to some of us and why we think it's important to each of us as individuals. We gave our reasons and my own personal reason brought me back to the wedding on Saturday...
With the couple smiling from ear to ear, I changed my lens and the pastor prepared for communion. The communion prayer was said and everyone was welcomed to the communion table. I heard the pastor say, “No matter where you are on life’s journey, you are welcome here.” Or at least I thought I heard that, I really can’t be sure, I know I've heard it before – but at the moment when communion began – I moved to the back of the church and had one of only a handful of still moments to myself. No lens to obstruct my vision, no person making a request for a family photo, just me in the back of a church, looking at the enormous cross behind the pulpit, watching as two women were being married. Where two women were serving their friends and family communion. Where the female pastor blessed the rings and welcomed ALL to the table. Where the wedding guests came from all walks of life and all came together to celebrate the love of two people, even if those two people were of the same gender. I looked at the church, my church. I looked at the pastor, my pastor and I looked to the front of the church where my daughter and my own spouse sat and realized how unbelievably blessed I am to have found such an amazing community to be a part of.
The pastor gave the standard announcement and the couple joined hands and prayed. There were a couple of readings and a short homily. The pastor invited the wedding guests to stand and offer their support to the couple and then the couple passed their wedding rings around the church so that every individual could bless the rings in their own way. As the photographer, all of this is kind of a blur. I am not sure if I have the order of events correct and I am not even sure if there may have been another song in there somewhere. As the photographer, you get lost in the moment of the frame and lose some of the experience....
Sunday we slept in but I made my way toward the church at 12:30 for Confirmation Class. No... I am not being confirmed at 35 years old. I was actually asked to be a confirmation mentor. A thought that still gives me pause.... Me. A confirmation MENTOR?? A MENTOR FOR A TEENAGER? I was pregnant at 17, married at 18 and divorced at 20. Ten years ago I discovered my inner Lesbian and last year ran off an married a woman! Am I really fit to be anyone's mentor? Apparently at my church they think I am. I sat in the class and listened. I listened as the kids, some wiser than they should be at fourteen talked about how they haven't been welcomed at other churches because of the religious beliefs of their parents among other things. I looked around and listened to these middle and high school students talk about what they thought prayer was, what they thought worship was and what part of worship was important to them. We talked about communion and what it means to some of us and why we think it's important to each of us as individuals. We gave our reasons and my own personal reason brought me back to the wedding on Saturday...
With the couple smiling from ear to ear, I changed my lens and the pastor prepared for communion. The communion prayer was said and everyone was welcomed to the communion table. I heard the pastor say, “No matter where you are on life’s journey, you are welcome here.” Or at least I thought I heard that, I really can’t be sure, I know I've heard it before – but at the moment when communion began – I moved to the back of the church and had one of only a handful of still moments to myself. No lens to obstruct my vision, no person making a request for a family photo, just me in the back of a church, looking at the enormous cross behind the pulpit, watching as two women were being married. Where two women were serving their friends and family communion. Where the female pastor blessed the rings and welcomed ALL to the table. Where the wedding guests came from all walks of life and all came together to celebrate the love of two people, even if those two people were of the same gender. I looked at the church, my church. I looked at the pastor, my pastor and I looked to the front of the church where my daughter and my own spouse sat and realized how unbelievably blessed I am to have found such an amazing community to be a part of.
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