moment to moment

I haven't blogged in so long. Life took over, and really, there are so many things I should be doing tonight instead of this. Or different posts I could be writing. Instead, this heaviness is on my shoulders. And I need to share it.

I wish someone had told me. Not the hard parts. Not the sleep problems, the frustration, the worry, the heartache. I wish instead, someone would have been able to convey to me that absolute love.

I wish I could have told the me then exactly how it would feel, and what to say when asked "why would you keep this baby?"

He is made for me. Out of starlight and fire and the ocean and all the good things in the universe. He is mine and mine alone. This baby is the whole breadth of my soul. I was made to make him. I've said this a million times before, and realize each time that words don't come close.

In the midst of sleepless nights and big emotions for us both, I check myself. Walk away, reset, apologize for mamas shortcomings, and kiss pudgy cheeks. I breathe in his warm milky breath, and soak up his laughter and big big smiles just for me. My heart has no more room in it, and yet grows wider with every day.

I wish I knew back then to say "Because I am ready for unconditional love".

I look at our little, flawed and faulted life, and take the moments needed to realize all he needs is me. And to be present. To say fuck the dishes and all the 'should be done's. Forget what isn't happening, just for this moment. Lay in bed at 6pm and let him bat at your face. Snuggle snuggle snuggle close and don't worry about tomorrow or yesterday.

Today, today is always ours.

just keep swimming

I started this blog with bold intentions. But sweet baby Eli lovingly demands my attention more.
And work, as glorious as it is, drains me some days. The knowledge that all this information I'm cramming into my brain and all the hard work I'm putting in will only be for another 30 days, and then I'm out. And boy, I'm sad.

And, baby. This kid. He's so perfect.
My life isn't. I feel scattered and tested and worn thin. I should be asleep, but I stay up eating milk cookies and drinking beer in hopes of boosting my supply. Okay, beer and cookies aren't really that awful.

2 weeks of sickness on top of sickness (my fever, Eli's constant congestion to the point of puking), and then yesterday full on monster teething hit. We've been sort of angling at it for a good month now, but I can see his first tooth coming through (WHAT? He's still my newborn. Stop it.) and he just falls apart at the drop of a hat. Tries to hard, wants so badly, to be his normal happy goofy self. But the pain wins over sometimes and he loses it. And then I lose it. And then we all fall down.

Hyland teething tablets. 5 minutes later, and he's out. I sure wish I had these yesterday.

And, my television isn't working. It's annoying and a bummer and booooring 'round here sometimes without it. BUT? I have found myself in a beautiful silence. One I needed. For the good and bad. I needed to be quiet with myself and reflect. Converse, connect, redirect.

I feel okay, I feel like my head is only barely barely above water. But I'm still swimming ever forward. And that's, well that's that.

just like the first time

A year ago today I found out I was pregnant.
A year ago today was one of the single hardest days of my life.
A year ago today I came close to terminating my pregnancy.

 I don't really talk about that day. Because it soon became to irrelevant.

But, it is, really, very important. And worthy of a celebration. And tears.

A year ago today, I finally went to Rite Aid, bought two pregnancy tests, and told myself I was just paranoid. 3 long long minutes later I found myself on the floor. Sobbing is not an accurate measure.

Without the full story, which is something else entirely, Eli's biologic father is not, was not, won't ever be, a fit father. I knew that, but the hopehopehope was so strong I couldn't help but dream of a family.

Oh, the tears.

A year ago today I stared at 2 pink lines that I thought couldn't be true. My first thought, in fact, was "get it out". A year ago, I looked into exactly what an abortion entailed.

I am not against abortion in the broad sense, exactly. But I always 'knew' it wouldn't ever be a valid choice for me. But there I was, researching it so clinically. And then dissolving in tears and pain. And quiet almost-acceptance.

I had to have this baby. God, the Universe, my own whatever, gave me this collection of cells. And it was mine. And maybe for a while I viewed this as my consequence.

It destroys me a little to admit this, but I really didn't want to have this baby. I resented it, hated myself, hated my ex more than anything. Even farther than most people know, even once I made it public, I was so angry. Even, honestly, after Eli was born I struggled with the anger. Sometimes, even, still. It's a part of the story.

But back then, a year ago, I couldn't see anything good. I saw pain and struggle and anger and survival.

Now?

Everyone knows how deep my love and pride run for my little man. But what people don't know, never will understand, is how much I needed him. He made me a better person, and continues to every day. I live for him. I am stronger and more courageous. More loving and patient and honest. More bold, more sure, more confident. Love of my life.

And to think he almost didn't happen. To think I almost never got to meet him, look into those huge brown eyes. I almost never got to feel his hand reach out and hold on, hear his laughter, know his heart. I cannot fathom a life without this boy.

What I've never shared is all my guilt. It is worthless, but it is there. Over the terms of his conception, the choice of a bio father. Over my almost-termination of his life, over my anger and denial. It's big and strong and hurts to admit. But it's there. Guilt over all he hasn't had, and might never have.

I try my hardest to give him all the love and nurturing I can. I will, forever and always.

I'm just...floored, tonight. I look at his sweet, rosy cheeks as he sleeps so peacefully. And...my heart cannot contain this.

Sometimes I wish I could talk to my year-ago self and say you're about to fall in love for the very first time.

Nothing on earth ever prepared me for this.

Eli, my sweet baby boy. You are meant for me. I am meant for you. I am honored to be your mama. 

checkmarks and footsteps

I write this purely for myself, a documentation lest I forget.

I deserve so much better than I have sought for myself. Better than I have been given. Better than I thought I was worth.

It has taken me my life to realize and accept and announce this. So much heartbreak, soulbreak, mistake, and compromise. It has taken me what I looked at as failure, has taken me a strength I didn't know I possessed.

I moved on. One by one, those lingering what ifs were checked off. One by one, soldier on. Move forward, step and step again.

Some easy, quick like bandaids. Others hurt and drug out and never seemed complete. Were not, exactly, complete, until two days ago. Like a little bit of thunder and lightening, my heart just had enough. I had enough and looked with clear quiet eyes and soul. Is this what I deserve? The answer so obvious like everything else and I'm out.

And since?

So much better. Moving on, on, on. And the future looks sweet.
Like something I deserve.

And when I lose a little sight of how good I should have it, and think maybe about settling for less?

I look at my son with his big beautiful brown eyes looking so trustingly up at me. Wide, innocence grin. And think, he deserves the very best. And almost more than that? His pure, complete love for me has taught me what is possible in the world. And what hearts are capable of.

I feel full of love and yet there is so much room for more.

Ready. Set. Go.

warrior mama; warrior child

For all the future 'hard days' and 'big steps': it will be okay.

A full 7 hours away from mama. Eli was a gem. I ached in a really deep way. Mama bear separated from her cub. Now I understand that low, mournful bellow a mama cow makes when she is separated from her calf. I feel ya.

I got through by sheer willpower and distraction. Past the first few minutes at work, I was alright. A big tight hug held me together. Obvious.

Seeing my boy made all the dark clouds fly out of the evening sky.

Coming home, big smiles and sweet sweet nursing. My body missed you, too.

Now?

Crockpot chicken and dumplings, a glass of cold wine, a sleeping babe, and so much pride. For myself, for my son.

I look back at the last year. Wow. I look, I did look, at how hard I fought for him. I looked deeply at my choices and came to this conclusion:

I am a warrior, and I made this boy of strength and love.

I worry and worry about the challenges he might face, and the heartbreak, and so much more. But then I remember:

We are sweet sweet warriors.

mama always comes back

Dear Eli James,

I haven't written to you much. Because I know you know how deep my love for you runs. That I would move mountains for you. You, my dear sweet boy, are the sun and moon and stars. You are everything good and sweet and magic in my life.
I go back to work tomorrow and it hurts mama so much. I want nothing more than to spend everyday looking into your big brown eyes and playing Baby Airplane. Smooches and squeals and laughter and nursing away all the bad feelings. But I can't. Because mama has to do a lot. Mama has to make money so she can take care of herself and you. Because mama is really really strong, and she needs you to be really really strong, too. I told you that tonight and you smiled at me. I think you understand. You always have.

Eli, you are something really special. I didn't plan on meeting you, didn't plan any of this. But when we're snuggled up close and I think about how perfect you, I can't imagine my life any other way. It took me a little while to get there. At first I was sad and confused, but now I'm so happy every moment I'm with you. Even when you're crying and upset and mama doesn't know how to fix it just yet. I'm happy even then, because I have you. Because you've made mama a better person, a happier person. You've given mama the whole wide world.

So I want you to know, when I go tomorrow that I won't be gone for long. That I will always be back for you. Because you own my heart and soul.

Because mama always comes back.

Love,
Your mama forever

time is shifting; so am I

It is officially fall today.

Not because my calendar says so, but for many little reasons.

It smells like fall outside my windows, and I can tell the trees are starting to get ready.
Sunsets are earlier and earlier every night, sneaking darkness in so quickly. I'll hate that in a few months, but right now it's so cozy.
I have fresh Honeycrisp apples, and pumpkins aren't far away.
Big cozy socks on my feet and hot tea in my hands.

It was foggy and chilly late last night, and somehow when I woke up snuggled deep in blankets and baby, it was fall. And I am overjoyed!

Life is so sweet. So hard and challenging and so damned sweet.

Carrot cake cookies in the oven, and a lovely split pea soup will be bubbling away for dinner soon.

I feel quiet today. Alone and quiet and nice.

The summer was a big rush of energy and movement and change, too busy and full and hard and good. Fall? It's going to be different, somehow. Busier, harder, and yet I feel more myself than I have in a while. More quiet and in touch and in tune. In control and taking charge and still going completely with the flow.

Fantastic things are coming!

checkmate

It's little things. And big things. Quiet moments and looks and honesty right along side these heartbreaking days full of so much distance. When asked now how things are, I shrug and I say I try while tears well.

And thus my heart is summed. Try and try and to what avail? Long drive to choke back tears, darkness feels good and I bury my face in sweet baby skin. I tell him mama's heartbroken but it'll be okay. And let it finally really hurt.

Sit here now, even. Big tears and hard words. It's silly somehow and shouldn't hurt so bad but oh it does. Like some final straw in my heart's game. I needed a final move to crown a winner and a loser. But I think I know now we've both lost a little. And I'm done playing.

I want a final showdown. Green to grey and tell me or at least listen. Heart on my sleeve and throw it away. You know me more than you think and I understand more than I'll ever tell.

Why is it that I always see the best, hope the best, believe the best? Someday I want someone to prove me right.

all mine

There are obvious moments when I get sad or frustrated or even angry that Eli doesn't have a viable father figure, that I don't have help or even child support. Then I realize I'd have to share him. And then I bury my face in my baby's neck rolls and don't care if I'm broke and tired forever. 

My friend said to me right after Eli was born, something along the lines of "I've always thought of him as just yours". I feel that way, too. I look at him and see myself reflected back, along with so much personality that is just Eli. I don't see anyone else there. And I am so glad for that.

We had a little snuggle fest today to drive away the blues we were both feeling, and I told him how he's so meant for me.

I was utterly convinced I was having a girl, so to see when he was layed on my chest that I had a son was not what I was expecting. But I can't say I was shocked. It was just...right. And every once in a while I think about that. He's just, mine. He was meant to be. Just waiting for me. It had nothing to do with timing or his biological father. He chose me. He picked me. We are perfect together. All those things.

I'm so damned blessed.

reminisce and rejoice

I'm starting to really ache for fall.

Not being a hot-weather girl, and now having a very unhappy little overheated boy, this summer sort of sucked the life out of me. Now, to be honest - I WAS almost 42 weeks pregnant, and then recovering with a newborn. That's a lot. But this was an unusually long and hot summer here in the Pacific Northwest. Some people are crazy over it. Me?

Give me fall.

Give me pumpkins and apples and squash. Boots, scarves, tights, jackets. Give me sweet spices wafting from the oven and stews bubbling on the stove. Snuggling up cozy at night and fuzzy socks all day. That crisp in the air that wakes me right up.

Oh please, I can't wait!

I know there is still probably another month of summer left here, but the skies have been occasionally grey and damp, and the temperature dropping at night. There is hope.

Here, with crunchy leaves so often come rain to make it all sloppy and sad. But, it's okay. Because something about this fall just feels special.

I've been having quiet little flashback/premonitions. These things I can't explain properly to anyone, they just think I'm kookoo nuts. Maybe. But I know what I know. These often brief, always inescapable moments of I've dreamed this. But I haven't, I've just known it. That 'other', really in-touch part of me has know it before. Or lived it in a past life. I don't know.

All I know is that when I start having a lot of these moments, it usually means I'm on the right track. That I'm right where I'm supposed to be in that moment. And they keep hitting me, day after day. Even hardest days. They mean this is right and good things are coming.

And, so, in the middle of a lot of hard choices, I rejoice.

Fall is coming. And it will be spectacular.

check yourself

A million things run through my mind at night, with Eli peacefully sleeping by my side. But when I grab a few minutes and sit down to write...nothing.

I'm sort of just slogging through this past week or so. Not bad, exactly, but not good either.

I felt the hormonal shift happen -- another one! A bit low, a bit unmotivated. I sat and held him for an entire day. I think the realization of having to leave him to return to the working world hit in a very real way. And I just needed to hold him, same as some days he needs me to hold him.

Push through, for his sake and ultimately mine. Eli shows me how totally worth it everything is. His big grins and squeals, tummy time successes, and how much he's changing already. Those moments when I check myself, and just look into his eyes and share this love - those moments bring me back to earth, to my heart and soul.

Slog on, mama bear. Slog on.

trash the labels; win

I think a lot about the 'good days' and the 'hard days' we have.

And here's the thing, today was hard. Bad hard. Shared tears hard.
But today was also a colossal win. Not because I could fix all the tears, not because I never felt overwhelmed.

But because as the night winds down and I look back, I kept going.

I just said fuck it. I get too caught up in labels as a parent. Crying It Out, Cosleeping, Attachment Parenting, etc., etc.

Just do it. Do what works for you, your baby, your family. Don't feel guilty if you think it isn't in line with a label you've given yourself. If it works at all, do it. And feel good about it.

The second I decided to let go of the labels, stop second guessing myself, and follow my gut, things got just a little easier.

And a cold beer doesn't hurt.

today's reset

The PP hormones are waging war with my heart. I love this baby beyond words, and yet there are these awful late-night moments when I just think I want my life back, I didn't sign up for this. And I cry. Big hard to breathe tears. I lay back down and stare at his sleeping face. It's better.

Then there are sad grumpy full of tears days that absolutely break my heart because I can't fix it.

I check out, walk away for 30 seconds and collect myself. Time for a reset on our Monday afternoon:

Took a walk.

Ate some pasta and a cupcake.

Better. 

He is still snuggled up, sweaty and sleepy against me. Absolute love.

for now or later; friendship

I'm realizing over and over again how people come and go. It's like some bittersweet tide.

As I worked through, and continue to understand, such a dramatic life change as becoming a parent, I am both sad and humbled.

I have lost, either violently or quietly, many many friends. Even those I considered family. Either by loss of any mutual understanding - because being a mommy changes everything about you and nobody who isn't can understand it. Or, somehow, by the simple change of my own perceptions and priorities. People who's absolute garbage way of treating me I put up with because of the 'good times'...they were not, are not, worth my time or energy or breath. Thus, I removed them from my life. A little hard, a bit painful, but such a relief to be free.

And in the midst of so much change, I met these absolutely incredible people. Some who will remain for quite some time. Some who will likely fade away. But people who stuck it out this far, and these friends came in unlikely places.

What's the point and where am I going?

Well, this and here, I guess:

I feel tremendously down to the bone blessed. I feel so loved, so honored and cherished and lifted. I needed to remind myself of that tonight, after a long moment of tears shared with my little boy. Tears of why are we alone. I talked it out with him and felt better, felt relief to tell my son how loved we really are! We have this huge, crazy, expansive 'family' who loves us. All in their own way, for their own amount of time.

I'm learning most friendships aren't 'forever', but they're for as long as you need them. And the ones I have now feel solid in all their own rights.

what's in a name

I wanted to take a minute and explain the name of this blog. Mostly because I think it really sums up my experiences thus far, what I've learned from being a mama, and the kind of parent I am - and hope to be in the future.

Quiet background is this: my son's father is absolutely out of the picture. A lot of people think this means he just isn't involved, but he knows nothing beyond "I'm pregnant". It isn't ideal, but in this particular situation, it's absolutely the best option!

This is hard, some days. Harder when I was pregnant, actually. And in the very first highly hormonal I-can't-do-this-why-isn't-he-here days. Now? I'm okay. I really am. But mostly I'm sad for my son. Because he won't know his father, at least not for many years. It has made my place in his life big.

How do I say this? I'm everything. I'm mama-papa. I'm his whole world.

And I still have to provide a roof and food and safety for him, for us. This means working, and for now this means working outside of the home. This breaks my ever-loving heart. Into big shattered pieces. But I'm accepting it.

Because of this, and the guilt that surrounds me some days when I think about 'leaving' him, I'm trying to ease us both into the idea of being apart. For the first weeks, baby boy was always nursing to sleep. I was fine with that, I never wanted to let my sweet smelling newborn out of my arms. Now, I know I need to get him (and me) used to space and time apart. And truly, it's good for us even now.

In the midst of this gentle 'sleep training', I would lay his sleepy self down and walk away. Crying, mama's heart hurting. 10 seconds, and I'd go back and kiss him.

"Mama's right here. Mama always comes back."

20 seconds, maybe 30. Go back, kiss and touch.

"Mama's here. Mama never leaves for good. Mama always comes back."

This has become our mantra. I want to instill in him that mama will never ever leave for good. Mama will always love him, will always be here, will always come back.

I can't explain this, and it certainly wasn't conscious word choice. It simply spilled from my lips and tears followed.

Mama always comes back, baby.

re-definitions

Who am I, where am I?

I've written blogs for years. Since I was probably 13. I've had too many too count, and I like to make new ones. I think that's simply because I like to start over. Clean slate and all of that.

While, I don't really feel the need for a 'clean slate' (no regrets!), I did decide to take my blogging to a new level. A less personal and more global level. And by less personal, I don't mean my posts aren't going to be heartfelt and open and honest. They will be. That's how I write and who I am. I just think I'd like to re-define my past and write my story again, in clearer terms and to a bigger audience.

I am this:

A mother, a daughter, a sister, a best friend, a woman, a writer, an actor, a dreamer, and a do-er.

This is me:

This is my baby:

This is where I live:

 

I am a new mama of a darling baby boy. I couldn't be more in love. I live in a beautiful town, with beautiful people. My life is a constant surprise, always changing and challenging me, but I try my hardest to take it all in stride and with a smile.