Every Family Needs Photos

4 Mar

First Family Photo :)

 

As I’ve told you – and as I’m sure you will learn – you’d be hard pressed to find a photographer as good as J. She has a knack for it, and thanks to you and Sports Man, she has a couple of pretty great subjects.

 One of the many times I was over at The B’s house, she sat down with me at her computer and we went through all of the photos she has on there. They were beautiful. Some were of Sports Man when he was younger, some were of family or friends, and some were actual sessions she’d done of other families or their kids. No matter who the subject of the pictures were, every shot just had this…ethereal quality about them.

 The vision she possess for photography is just as good if not better than photos I see at art shows and museums. Let’s just say if I get married, she’s taking the wedding pictures.

 It seems as though when she’s not even actively trying to take a good picture, it happens anyways. You’ll run across people like that in your life – people who are just innately good at something, who’s talent shines through without them even having to try. You’ll most likely be one of those people, so you should probably get used to it ;)

 After your adoption was official, The B’s came to stay for the night at Pop-Pop 3 and Grandma M’s house. We all bunked in there and I got to spend some extra time with you and The B’s. J gave me a locket with a picture of you in it (I got the picture a few weeks later), and she had a matching one. It was a way for you to be with me even when you weren’t. It was also a way to know that J was holding me close to her heart. It meant a lot to me. I didn’t take mine off for months.

 The next day, before you and The B’s left, J suggested that she take some pictures. She wanted to take some of you and I, and she also wanted to get a family shot of all of us. That’s what she called the picture of you, me, Pop-Pop and Grandma M, and The B’s – a family shot. It warmed my heart to hear her call us that, and she wasn’t kidding – family is certainly what we became.

 So here are your first extended family portraits, filled with only a fraction of the people who love you like their own. Being loved by countless people…probably another thing you should get used to :)

All photos by J

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The World’s Most Boring Child Birthing Classes

3 Mar

 I started thinking about adoption a couple of weeks after I discovered you. It seemed logical – I could give you to a family that could provide for you and since I was choosing open adoption, I’d get to see you often. Very logical. I was doing what was best and it would be difficult, but not too hard. I’d still get to see you, and since it was what was best, even when I was sad, that knowledge would be able to help me sleep at night.

 I actually managed to continue that thought process for a couple of months, until I started my child birthing classes at the local hospital. I scheduled them every Sunday so that C could attend, but in the end, he decided it was too hard for him. Either Pop-Pop 3, Grandma M or Aunt S would accompany me to my classes.

 I hated those classes.

 Well, that’s not entirely true. The information I learned was incredibly valuable, and for that reason, I’m glad I went. I learned all about the birthing process and what to expect when it came time for delivery. I learned about you and what you would be doing for my last trimester. I learned that the really weird cramping and hardening of my stomach wasn’t you rolling around, but that they were Braxton Hicks contractions. I learned about the stages of labor and things I could do during labor to ease the stress on myself, therefore easing the stress on you. I was out buying books and pregnancy within the week I found out about you, so being the knowledge nerd that I am, all of this info from the classes was really interesting to me.

 But other than that the class was so…boring. I don’t think any of the other couples in that class knew what the word “fun” meant. Aunt S and I would make jokes and try to have fun and we’d get looks from the other couples like they couldn’t believe we were attempting to enjoy the classes – these classes were obviously serious business and we obviously weren’t taking the classes seriously enough. I know…I’m one of those weirdos who thinks learning can be fun. Go figure.

 But what the child birthing classes did do was make the reality of you…well, real. We would talk about what the babies would look like within the first couple of days – red, puffy faces, cone heads, maybe even a little yellow. We talked about changing diapers, how babies liked to be swaddled, how to stop babies from crying…and I realized that I wouldn’t get to do any of this. I would see you in your red, puffy face stage and then you’d disappear.

 My logic went out the window, and I suppose it was about time. Situations like ours can’t be ruled by logic and logic alone – it’s very emotional. The bond between a mother and her child is all about love – we never say “I love my child because I should and he or she needs me to.” We just do. It’s natural, it’s innate and it’s more powerful than anything you’ve ever imagined. And during those classes I was overwhelmed with the idea that despite that powerful love, I was going to let you go.

 This was before I met The B’s. During these classes, your “future family” was an unknown entity to me, making this reality even scarier. Parting with you seemed to get more impossible with each passing day. I hated the classes for that, too. Because even though I love the you inside me, I was starting to dream about the you when you finally came out – who you would be, what you would look like, how I could care for you. It hurt my heart to think about because I realized that when the real you showed up, so would your adoption. The two were not mutually exclusive – with one, came the other. And my problem was that I only wanted one – you.

 Towards the end of my pregnancy, every night as I went to sleep, I would hold my stomach and feel you kick and I would thank you, for spending one more night with me. I did this every night for the last month. I said it the night before I went into labor – “Thank you for staying with me for one more night.”

 Of course, it’s all turned out better than I could have imagined. The B’s were only too happy to let me have my diaper changing experiences and to see you past your puffy-face-cone-head stage. Every time I went over to their house, they wouldn’t hesitate to hand you to me. They would let me hold you as much as I wanted to. They wanted me to hold you as long as I wanted to. They want me to love you as much as I possibly can, and for that and a multitude of other reasons, I love them.

 But those child birthing classes taught me that logic only goes so far, and then comes love. And love tends to bring the logic-house down. Our journey was an emotional one – one where even though I was told I shouldn’t get too attached to you if I was planning on adoption, I couldn’t help it and wouldn’t have if I could’ve. One where I was told I shouldn’t keep you in the room with me at the hospital because it would make it easier but there wasn’t a person in the world who could have removed you from my sight or my arms.

 And you have been more than worth it – every emotional up and down, every sad day and every happy day, every tear shed before and after your adoption (there were a lot, although some we could probably attribute to pregnancy hormones) were beyond worth it, because out of all of it, I got you. And through you, I got The B’s. And from all of you, I got everything I’ll ever need.

 I just think that next time, I’ll pick a livelier bunch to spend my Sunday afternoons with.

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Have No Fear, Love Is Here…Right?

2 Mar

As you know, I started these letters for many reasons, most of them for you. I want you to know how you got to where you are. I want you to know how many lives you’ve touched just by being you. I want to be able to document the things I learn about you as I learn them, so that one day you can look back and appreciate your childhood self the way the rest of us do. Mostly I want you to know how loved you are.

 But I’m going to make a confession: even though the letters are for you – from me to you –   they’re actually for me too. Because even though it’s good for you to know that I love you, it’s almost better for me to know that you know that I love you.

 As I told you yesterday, The B’s would never dream of the day when they would let you forget how much I love you. I know that if some how, some way, any doubt of that entered your mind, they would correct it in an instant. But before I found them and really got to know them, that was probably my biggest adoption concern as a birth mother: that if you grew up away from me, you would never know how much I loved you. Or even worse, you would assume that since I “gave you up,” I didn’t love you.

 I think that is a universal birth mother fear – that if we’re not around, there won’t be anyone else around to remind you that we honestly did what we thought was absolutely best for you in the long run. That it was because of love that we chose adoption, not in spite of it, or due to our lack of it. We want our children to think the best of us and sometimes we feel that if we’re not with you 24/7 to encourage that, no one else will.

 It’s one of the weird conundrums of adoption – I feel that, as your mother, our love for one another should be innate. But since I went through with adoption – even though it was a decision made lovingly – sometimes I feel like my love is something that I need to prove to you. My love for you is guaranteed, but since I’m not raising you, your love for me doesn’t have to be – sometimes, I feel like your love is something I will need to earn. 

 I honestly used to think that I was a selfish person for choosing adoption. That if I had just been a little more selfless, I could have sacrificed more – “manned up” a bit – and kept you as my own. A little therapy and constant support from friends and family cured me of that relatively fast, but it doesn’t keep the thought from creeping up every now and then. It’s a strange paradigm to try to describe.

 I actually came up with the idea for these letters way back then, when the adoption first took place, but I wasn’t as healed then as I feel now. I wanted to be able to sort through my feelings before I started telling them to you because I wanted our relationship to be a source of clarity for you, not confusion. And also, funny enough (the people who know me will laugh at this), I was actually afraid I would run out of things to say.

 As it turns out, my letters to you almost write themselves. I start off with a little thought or a funny story about you and suddenly, I’ve written hundreds of words – paragraphs filled with stories I want you to know, stories I love; feelings I have for you and your family, a thousand memories, a million and a half things I want you to hear. Writing to you isn’t a job, it isn’t work – it’s freeing. Every time I write one, I feel a little lighter. And even though you’re no where close to being able to read them, I feel closer to you and The B’s every time I finish one.

 It’s yet another way you have brought love, peace and meaning to my life.

 My fears of you not knowing that I am madly in love with you have been long assuaged. I am sure you will grow up knowing that I love you because The B’s wouldn’t have it any other way, and because I am going to come around as often as humanly possible to tell you so myself. And some day later on, you will have these letters to tell you how loved you are, too. But even so, you should know that even if I don’t have to, I am going to spend the rest of my life proving it to you anyways.

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Finding The B’s

1 Mar

I have always loved The B’s. From the day I met them – actually, from the day I read their profile – I knew they would be amazing parents. I remember the day I found their profile – I had gone to the adoption agency for another meeting with my adoption counselor, and as soon as I walked in, she handed me a huge stack of profiles that she had picked out based on what I said I was looking for in an adoptive family.

 I was there for hours. I analyzed every little thing about those profiles, from the pictures and where I thought they had been taken, to the actual information, to the wording of some of the things the families wrote. I actually discarded a family because they said, “We’d be happy to have you in your child’s life, but if you’d rather not, that will still be okay.” To the outside observer, it sounds respectful and looking back on it, I’m sure that’s all they meant. But to a women looking for people to parent the love of her life, it sounded like a veiled attempt at saying, “We’d prefer if you just kind of disappear after this whole thing.” I know it’s silly, but that’s how incredibly intense I felt that day.

 I was suddenly overwhelmed with the hugeness of what I was doing. I knew that I would have to pick a family for you. But these people were going to raise you. You were going to grow up with their values, surrounded by their family, learning their way of life. These people were going to impact you for the rest of forever. When you grew up, you would be the person you were because of them. Which, in a roundabout way, meant that who you were going to be depended on me  and who I chose. Talk about your massive life decisions.

 The B’s profile was towards the bottom of the stack, not the last but a few profiles away from it. I looked at theirs the longest. I had seen their profile online before – Grandma M had looked them up on Bethany’s website and shown them to me briefly a month or two earlier. They were the only ones with a hardback book-type profile, in a really pretty green color – J’s creative genius at work again. It was beautiful, from the pictures to what they said in it…all about them and their family and how much they loved their son and all the fun things they liked to do. And also, how much they wanted to love me. How much they wanted me involved.

 My counselor told me that when I found a family I liked, I could tell her and put them “on hold.” I finished with their profile, handed it to her and said, “I want them. I want to put them on hold.” She looked at me a little stunned and suggested I finish with the profiles and maybe take a few days to think about them, even take a few of them home. I flipped through the ones underneath The B’s but sadly and perhaps unfairly, I didn’t truly read them. My mind was somewhere else, with a beautiful family and their green, hardback book.

 The B’s profile was the only one I took with me. I showed it to the woman at the main desk in the agency and told her I had put them on hold. I immediately drove to Grandma M’s work and showed her. I called C on the way and told him we had to meet up soon because I had something to show him. When I got to Grandma M’s work, I called the agency to double-check that The B’s were mine. They were – they were officially “reserved” and we’ve belonged to each other ever since.

 I couldn’t be happier. The day after your adoption was official, they came back to my parent’s house and stayed the night so I could spend a little more time with you. J took pictures of all of us outside the next day (my chubby, post-pregnancy face is absolutely ravishing, by the way) and they made a get-together date for a couple of weeks later so I’d know when I was going to see you again. I remember seeing E outside the adoption agency right before the adoption ceremony – he came right up to me and gave the biggest hug I’ve ever gotten. They felt just as lucky to have you as I felt for you to have them.

 But one thing they promised me was that you would always know how much I loved you. They said they would never let you forget it. So on the days I can’t tell you in person or write to you about it here, I still feel confident that you know it, that someone is telling you. But I also want them to know how much I love them – I’m sure that they know, but I’m not sure if they understand the intensity behind it. I love them as I love you, because they are one in the same now. And everyday you do something cute or funny or beyond your years, I fall more in love with every single one of you.

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You, Me and C Makes Three

29 Feb

Me and C at Senior Prom

I’ve been in love three times in my life, but as of now, only two of those times will matter to you. Because one of those times was with you. The other was with your biological father C.

I don’t know if our story will ever matter to you, mine and C’s. I think it will someday. I think that eventually, how you came to be will be important to you. And the good news is that our love story is a good one – one I’m happy to retell, one I look back on and mostly think of fondly. We didn’t last, as I’m sure you will be able to tell soon enough. We are on very good terms now, even if it wasn’t always the case. And personally, I think the beginning and the middle matter much more than the end.

We fell in love in high school. We were on the high school newspaper together, so we’d known each other for about a year when we started dating. I know most people don’t believe that kids as young as we were – 17 for me, 16 for him – have any idea of what love actually means. I think it’s subjective. I think you are the only person who has the right to judge how you feel. And we certainly felt head-over-heels for each other. We said “I love you” for the first time on March 1, 2009 and every day afterwards for almost a year.

I remember one time when I was having a bad day, he took me for a drive, cranked up the loudest, most obnoxious rock song he had in his car and told me to scream as loud as I possibly could to get it all out. We both started yelling over the music and pretty soon, I couldn’t stop laughing. Another day, we went to a guitar shop (C is a ridiculously talented musician) and looked around. I could tell he wanted to play one, but we started to leave because he didn’t want to bore me. I stole his keys and wouldn’t let us leave until he played. I supported him. He cared about me. We spent the time we weren’t together texting or calling. I spent every Sunday at his house with his family. He brought me coffee to school in the mornings. We kissed and hugged and held hands. Even thinking back on it now, I find myself smiling. We loved each other.

I just think it is important for you to know that you exist because of love. Though you were unexpected, I never, ever want you to think you were an “accident.” Accident implies a mishap, an unfortunate or undesirable occurrence, and you my precious baby boy, are anything but – you are my everything. You are the result of two people experiencing first love. Two people who would have done anything for the other, who cared about each other more than anything else in the world. Two people who fall more and more in love with you every day.

True, our relationship didn’t survive my pregnancy. But that is absolutely the result of things that were done or said by us – not you. We were young, and in the end, youth can prove to be just as unstable as it is exciting. But I do believe we were in love. When we were in love, I truly thought I was done with dating – C and I were a forever kind of deal, and at the time, that thought went both ways. We truly meant it when we said “I love you,” and we still say it today – it just has a different connotation now.

If anything, our love for one another might mean even more now than it did back when we were in the first throes of love – after surviving the things that happened during my pregnancy, when there were some times when I definitely did not feel loving towards him, the fact that we still care for each other now is incredibly meaningful.

We grew up very fast – our lives were not about us anymore, and though I came to terms with that faster than he did, that knowledge definitely impacted us – it changed us both forever. But the best kind of love is that kind that changes you; the kind that touches your soul and leaves impressions that never fade and that you never forget. And wouldn’t you know, I think it’s the best thing that has ever happened to us. Because you are definitely the best thing that has ever happened to me.

There is so much more to our story. One day, if you want, I’ll tell you the rest of it, and C will help me. We’ll get to share little pieces of the love that brought you to be the gift that you are. We’ll get to relive our story – a story that was already unique and special, and now, it has the best ending of all :)

 

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It’s a Good Thing I Can Bench Press 50 lbs

28 Feb

The stats are in! Upon leaving my Psychology of Adolescence midterm – preparing myself way ahead of time for your teen years – I recieved a text from J. You just had your 18 month appointment at the doctor’s office and we got a nice little snapshot of you at 18 (even though you’re technically 19) months:

You are 30.5 lbs (90th percentile for weight)

You are 33.25 in (75th percentile for height)

Also, you recited your ABC’s for the doctor who was sufficiently impressed.

Every time you get bigger, you blow my mind a little. According to my Developmental Psychology class, the growth you achieve between conception and your one-year birthday is the fastest you will grow in your entire life, so actually, I suppose you growing at an exponential rate shouldn’t surpirse me. And yet, it never fails to amaze me.

Like I said yesterday, my friend Aunt L had her own baby boy a couple of days ago. I went to visit her and I got to hold the world’s newest Liam. Apparently, he was 8lbs but no baby has ever felt lighter or smaller. My guess is because a week previously, I was holding you, Mr. I’m-in-the-90th-percentile-for-weight.

You are going to hear this as you get older: “You’re growing up so fast!” After a while, it’s going to get old and it’s going to stop meaning a whole lot to you. I know it did for me when I was younger. Actually, there is a whole lot you will never understand about your parents’ perspective until you are a parent. Then everything they’ve been telling you for years finally makes sense, and after putting up with a couple smirks and I-told-you-so’s, you learn to appreciate it.

So what’s a parent to do when their Little Man comes up to their waist and he’s only 19 months old? Option number one would be to cry, but seeing as how I’m much too tough for that (cough cough), I learn to appreciate it. I even learn to marvel in it a little. Every day you get bigger is one less day I get to call you a “Little” Man, but it’s one more day that I get to be astounded by all the things you can do, all the things you have learned. It’s one more day that I get to be proud of you for something, no matter how small. And as long as you’re shorter than me, I think I’ll be okay.

Happy 18 Month Check-Up Day! I’m sure that one day, it will be crazy to you that you were ever that small. I, on the other hand, am going to brag about your percentiles to everyone until your next appointment. Starting…now :)

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Bouncing Baby Boys for Everyone!

27 Feb

Your Aunt L, a very close friend of mine, had a baby yesterday. Unlike me, she and her husband waited until their baby was born to find out whether it was going to be a boy or a girl. Well I’m happy to report that she now has her own Little Man – it’s a boy! And you know what? They really like the name Liam.

I’m stopping by later today to visit her and her brand ” new and blue” bundle of joy. I’ve only been to the maternity ward in the hospital where you born once since I had you, when another one of my friends had a baby girl (we’ve already arranged your marriage to her FYI). It bring back a lot of memories, being there. And though occasionally tainted with the sadness of my separation from you, at least 98% of my hospital memories are good ones.

I was in labor with you for 11 hours. When I got to the hospital, they strapped a couple of monitors to me – one to monitor the contractions and another to monitor your heartbeat. I had them turn up the sound of your heartbeats and listening to them helped me breathe through my contractions.

I remember when you finally…um…came out, I listened for your cry because I knew it would mean you were alive and okay. When they lifted you up and I got to see you for the first time, my very first thought was actually about your chin. I thought to myself, “He has a cleft chin!” I know…it was definitely not what I imagined my first thought would be when I saw you. Luckily, it makes for a good story ;)

However, while marvelling over your cute cleft chin, I was overcome with this unbelievable awe. Obviously, I had know you were real. I had know you were going to be born and that when you were, you would be a baby. But other than your hair and eye color, I hadn’t really thought too much about what the rest of you would look like. And suddenly…there you were. This little being, smaller than any baby I had ever been around before. A little person that I had helped to create. Nothing has ever been more real to me than that moment. That was the moment I changed forever. I had always loved you – since the day I discovered you – but in seeing you, how much I loved you overwhelmed me. I never believed in love at first sight, but that moment couldn’t have been anything but.

The immediately gave you to me and I got to hold you for a little while, so the doctors could finish up. Looking back at the pictures, you were covered in some pretty weird stuff but I honestly don’t remember any of that. I just remember getting to hold you, feeling so relieved – partly because the labor was finally over and partly because you were finally here. They cleaned you up and weighed you (7lbs, 6oz, by the way) and then they gave you to me for skin-to-skin time. You were so warm and tiny! Those few minutes were the most peaceful ones of my life.

Over the next day and half we got visitors and flowers and your grandparents stole all the time they could with you. I think the only time we ever sat you down was to change your diaper. Other than that, you were in someone’s arms 24/7. I would have held your forever if I could have. Eventually I suppose I would have had to let you learn how to walk, but that was a ways off anyhow.

My favorite times were when you opened your eyes. You were a fantastic baby – you didn’t cry at all really. If you got upset or hungry or cold, you would make disgruntled noises but that was it. Otherwise, you slept most of the time. But on occasion you would wake up, open your eyes and look around a little. But mostly, you focused on me. I know babies can’t see much more than outlines when they’re first born – it’s most just shapes and fuzzy features – but you certainly stared at me. And even though I know you weren’t seeing me, I liked to pretend that you did. I liked to think that you were making mental imprint of me that you would never forget no matter where or how far away you went. Like maybe that was your way of telling me you loved me, too.

But today, I will revisit the hospital maternity ward. I will relive the wonderful few days I got to spend with you there. I will get to say hello to a new mother who will now know, without a doubt, what I’m talking about when I mention that instantaneous love I felt the first time I saw you. I don’t know what name they officially settled on yet, and in the end, new life is new life and it doesn’t truly matter – but it’s quite possible that the world has just gained another Liam :)

Lookin' at me lookin' at you :)

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The Worst Ten Days and the Best Nineteen Months

25 Feb

Every state has different policies when it comes to adoption. You were born in North Carolina, and they have a policy called the “revocation period.” It states that from the day the birth mother signs the adoption papers, she has seven business days to change her mind. In my case, I had ten days because I signed papers on a Saturday, and they couldn’t go into effect until Monday.

That policy was torture. Those were the worst 10 days of my life.

For those 10 days, you stayed with what the agency called an “interim care mother” – basically, a foster-mother who cares for infants during that seven-day period if the adoptive family chooses that option. The B’s wanted you to be a surprise for Sports Man and having dealt with a few failed adoptions themselves, they wanted to make sure everything was official before introducing you to your new brother.

It was a smart idea.

I spent those ten days making the world’s most comprehensive pro and con lists. I spent them looking over my finances with my mom and dad to see if I could afford to keep you. I ran every scenario through my head a million times – what I would do if I took you back, what I would do if I went through with the adoption, how The B’s would handle both scenarios. I saw a therapist. I talked it over with my parents every single day, getting their input – they never told me what to do because they knew it could only be my decision, but they were a wonderful sounding board. I went back and forth every single day of those 10 days. I didn’t think of anything else but you, trying to find a way that I could keep you and still give you everything I knew The B’s would give you.

It was agonizing. I know the policy is in place for good reason. All girls deserve a chance to change their minds, and I completely understand why they would. I almost did. I almost changed my mind every day. I would wake up and feel confident about adoption and go to bed that night, determined to bring you home to me. Two different scenarios, two different decisions constantly pulling me in two different directions. It’s difficult to describe, but I imagine if I were to be ripped in half, it would feel something like that. I knew that if I went through with adoption, you would be like a sort of phantom limb – an essential part of a person, felt even in its absence. Something so real, so necessary that you’re sure it’s there until you look down and realize it’s not. Having to deal with that disappointment over and over again…I wasn’t entirely sure I could handle that.

But in the end, it wasn’t about me. I wasn’t about what I would go through, or what being without you would do to me. It was about you and what was best for you. Grandma M asked me during one of those days what specifically I thought I needed to be good enough to keep you. I jokingly answered, “To be 10 years older, in a stable relationship with a college degree and high-paying job.” But it wasn’t a joke, really. I wanted to be the kind of parent who could give you everything, who would be able to make sure you never had to worry, who could provide you with everything I  thought you deserved. And eventually I realized that I could. By placing you with The B’s, I could give you everything, I could make sure you never had to worry, I could provide you with everything I thought you deserved. It was all right there, in their family.

People ask me all the time if I think I made the right decision, and my answer is an instantaneous “yes.” I don’t even have to think about it, probably because I did enough thinking in those 10 days to last a lifetime. You – your life – was not a snap judgment. It was not an easy choice, or an instant decision. You deserved the best and I wanted to make sure you got it. And now, I truly believe you have it.

Actually, I think we both have it. The past 19 months have certainly been proof of that. And every time I see you with The B’s – in a picture, in a video, in real life – makes all of that indecision feel small and far away. The love we all share has turned those ten days from a gaping wound to a small scar. And that’s the beauty in the breakdown, I suppose – that despite all of the pain and confusion, we actually managed to find the kind of love that not only heals broken hearts, but builds stronger ones.

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My Little Halloween Hater

24 Feb

You hate Halloween. I expect that to change not too far down the road, but for the two Halloweens you’ve had so far, you haven’t been too happy. Of course, you looked adorable. For your first Halloween you were a little over three months old and you were a pumpkin. This past October you were a giraffe. Apparently, you cried until the pumpkin outfit was removed that first year, and if the face you were making in the picture J sent me this year was any indication, you had similar feelings about your giraffe outfit. You may not like it now, but once the concept of free candy kicks in, I think you’ll change your mind about the whole ordeal.

My favorite holiday was always Christmas. Lights, decorations, presents, time off from school, the music, the food, the smell…nothing smells better than Christmas. Everything is warm and cozy and I stay in my pajamas all day (it’s a rule in our house – Pop-Pop 3 and Grandma M do it with me). I used to wait year round for it. I still love it.

I have a new favorite holiday though. It’s called Mother’s Day. Even before it applied to me, it always seemed like a bright and sunny holiday, probably because it’s smack-dab in the middle of Spring. But recently, my perspective on it has changed, as you may have guessed. I actually got a Mother’s Day card from your Aunt S when I was pregnant. It was really neat, but also really strange – I was going to be a mom. I feel like every parent probably has the Mother’s Day/Father’s Day moment when they suddenly realize that that applies to them now. Even though you know you’re going to be a parent, it still takes you off guard a little.

I used to worry about it. I used to wonder whether it was going to be weird. How do you celebrate a holiday like that when you are mom but at the same time…you’re not? I was a little nervous about the first one, but it was all for nothing, as usual. The B’s invited me down for the weekend so I could spend the day with you. J and I got each other cards and stayed up late talking (we do that every time I stay the night…when we’re not too tired). The next day we went to a women’s luncheon with Grandma M and talked about how thankful we were for you and for each other.

Personally, I’m looking forward to the days when you start making Mother’s Day school crafts – hand-made cards, painted flower vases, drawings that are just scribbles but still mean the world to the person who receives them. I know most of them will be for J but hopefully you’ll save one for me. But I don’t love Mother’s Day because I want anything from you, or anyone else – I love it because I am reminded of how much extra love I have in my life because of you. I hope you never underestimate how special you are, because you have connected so many people and enriched so many lives. I know I’ll tell you how special you are all the time, but I will never be able to tell you enough – you’ve changed my life for the better in so many ways, if I started listing them now, I’d die of old age before I finished.

So even though on Mother’s Day, children are supposed to spend the day appreciating their moms, it’s actually a day that we spend appreciating you.

But that definitely doesn’t mean that we would turn down breakfast in bed. Not trying to hint or anything.

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The Only Time Tom Cruise Has Ever Made Sense

23 Feb

For Thanksgiving 2009, your grandparents and I traveled to Alabama to visit my sister, your Aunt B, and her family. We all made dinner together and enjoyed a traditional Thanksgiving meal. It was delicious. I went back for seconds later that night and as I was heating up leftovers, I was suddenly nauseated. The food smelled disgusting. I couldn’t even be in the kitchen anymore because the smell was overwhelming. I remember telling your Grandma M that I just felt sick all of a sudden. It didn’t make any sense to me. I didn’t eat any leftovers for the rest of our trip.

Of course, about a month later during one, pivotal doctor’s appointment, it made total sense. I was too shocked to speak when I found out; I was already 8 weeks along. I couldn’t even find the words to tell Grandma M who was at the appointment with me – I just handed her your ultrasound pictures. You looked like a tadpole in them. Pop-Pop 3 called you Kermit for while.

When I found out about you, it took a couple of weeks (try 32) to let it sink it. I was suddenly aware that I was never alone – you went with me everywhere. I talked to you a lot, even in the early days, before you even had ears. I liked it – not being alone, because back in those days, I felt alone a lot. C and I had fallen apart, but I had you and there were times when you were the only thing that could make me feel better.

After that first one, ultrasounds became my favorite thing in the whole wide world. I only had three, but they were enough to make me realize why Tom Cruise bought Katie Holmes her own ultrasound machine when she was pregnant. Of course I was (very literally) connected to you, but getting to see you was an experience beyond words. Everyone daydreams about what their child is going to look like, who they’re going to be and an ultrasound is a window into those daydreams. They are a sneak peek into what is about to be the best part of your life. It’s actually probably a method of placating expecting mothers – we have to go another 20-or-so weeks without meeting you, so we’ve got to have something to hold on to in the meantime. Not to mention that you were incredibly photogenic. Still are.

After ultrasounds, my favorite thing was getting to hear your heartbeat. The way I used to describe the sound was like helicopter blades, right as the engine was starting up. Your heartbeats were so fast! It was like a “whoosh, whoosh” sound. I wish there had been a way to record it – I can still remember the way it sounded, crystal clear in my memory. Proof is important to mothers – we feel our babies moves around all the time, we know without a doubt that we’re carrying them, but those little moments of realization, those tiny glimpses into who we’re carrying, mean the world to us. We’re literally connected to you for nine months and it’s not nearly close enough.

I loved being pregnant with you. After the shock wore off, I bought books. And then I bought some more books. I read them from cover to cover – I would have to restrain myself from reading ahead in my because I wanted to read it as it happened, but I would just get too excited. I would want to know what you were doing, how much more you had developed, how big you were…I wanted to know everything about you. I loved buying stretchy pants, I loved feeling you move around, I love what I learned in my childbirthing classes, I loved learning about you and pregnancy period. It was all so new and interesting, and the best part is that it was all about you. I made you. I grew you. I look at you sometimes and I just can’t believe that I actually created something as beautiful as you, just by being me.

Pregnancy was completely unexpected for me; not at all planned for, but truly one of the most amazing experiences of my life. You are my most amazing experience – my proudest accomplishment, my favorite thing, the best thing I’ve ever done with my 21 years of life.

I’ve loved you single every day of you since that first one. I have a feeling that will never change. I just wanted you to know :)

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