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.