Dear Baby Boy--
Happy Birthday.
I wish you were here with me. I wish I could hold you in my arms and nurse you to sleep and lay you in your crib and turn on the sound machine and I wish I were laying here in my bed worrying about how you'd sleep and if you were going to make it all the way though the night. I wish you were crawling around and picking up crumbs off the floor. I wish you were slobbering on all of your brother's toys and itching to be a big boy and take over the house. I wish you were babbling your first words at me from a high-chair as you beg for more food (and faster!). I wish you were laying on the couch making out with the dog like your brother did at a year old, even though I did NOT approve of this behavior. I wish I were giving you bubble baths with your brother and watching him teach you ALL about the whales and dolphins and sharks floating around you both in the treacherous bathtub seas. I wish you were here to ride in the stroller and slowly melt into sleep as your brother pushed you around the block on our evening walk. I wish you were here to sleep snuggled next to him in his big boy bed, just because you love to snuggle. I wish you were here to leap head-first off the couch just because it seemed like fun at the time. I wish you were here to pick up all of your brother's bad habits. I wish you were here to make me crazy. I wish you were here to make me wonder what I was thinking having two boys! I wish you were here. Period.
If you were here, I'd be baking a cake and mixing icing to find just the right colors. I'd be helping you practice blowing so you could blow out your first birthday candle on your own. I'd be wrapping presents and counting plates and cups and napkins. I'd be double checking the RSVP list for your party. I'd be charging my camera battery. I'd be double checking the grocery list. I'd be washing diapers and cleaning the house top-to-bottom for the arrival of guests. I'd be making a slideshow of all the 1000s of pictures I'd taken of you over the months so everyone could see how you've grown and watch your adventures. I'd be sitting here tearing up over how much you've grown and how far you've come and be thinking, "How did my baby get so BIG?!?"
Instead, I'm laying here alone. Wishing I could hold you one more time. Wishing I could kiss those tiny lips just one last time. Wishing I could relive that hour over and over and over so that I would never forget a single detail of the swirls of hair on your tiny head or the fingernails on your fingers. So I'd never ever ever forget how much I loved your huge feet. So I'd never forget that you had a perfect miniature replica of my nose (and your brother's). So I'd never forget those few minutes I got to hold you in my arms and pray that things could be different for you. For us. Because little boys need their mamas. And mamas are never complete without their little men to take care of.
A year ago, just hours before my labor began, I couldn't imagine a world without you in it. I've been living in that world for 363 days now and it is an awful place. Absolutely awful. You would have made the world so much better, just by being you. You were sweet, but mischievous. You were quieter than your brother (thank goodness!). You never threw wild parties in my belly like he did, but you would roll and kick and stretch out those little legs of yours. Sometimes you'd stop moving just long enough to make me begin to wonder and as soon as I'd break out the doppler you'd run away from it and spend the next few moments beating it silly instead of letting me hear your heartbeat---this habit of yours ultimately got me one last ultrasound glimpse of you in the hospital because the doctor wanted to get your heart-rate for the chart but you were having NONE of it and just happily beat up the Doppler. You liked to toy with us that way. You loved to kick your brother when he kissed you. You liked to beat up Daddy while he slept. You HATED it if Mama squished you with tight clothes or by laying on her tummy. You loved to dig your teeny toes down as low as you could to make Mama uncomfortable. You took almost an hour to show us the goods at the anatomy scan---you waited until we were about to give up and then spread them wide and proud to show off your little manhood. You took your sweet time about things and didn't rush. You were laid back. You were perfect. And I want so much to know who you would have become. Surely not the wild take-no-prisoners toddler your brother is. You'd have been different. The perfect foil for his crazy antics.
He would have been SUCH a good big brother to you. He would have loved you to the ends of the Earth. He still talks about you every single day. He still carries his "Brother" doll around and sleeps with it every single night. He knows that you were in Mama's tummy and that you came out and you were too small, so you died. He misses you. He remembers how cute you were and how small. He remembers playing with you and talking to you and kissing you. He remembers those weeks you were growing in my belly. He remembers being there when you were born and holding you and kissing your face and he remembers that you had a weenie (he was very impressed with your toes too!). He knows you were sick and hurting and he still cries for you sometimes. He wishes he could see you. He wants to play with you so much. He calls all of the baby things yours. Even his old hand me downs are yours in his mind. Your blankets, your crib, your clothes, your swing. And he's very protective of your things. Just like he protects that doll. He brushes his teeth with it. He plays with it---and it breaks my heart every time. He pretends that you ARE that doll and that he's playing with YOU. And he tells me all the time what you like, what you feel, what you want. And I wish so much that I could bring you back and let him have his BROTHER. That doll has learned to play so many games and do so many big-boy things that I can only imagine what he would teach you and do with you if you were here with us. It would be amazing to watch and it is one of the parts of losing you that makes my heart ache the most. I may not deserve the amazing gift to be a mother again. I know I'm not perfect. But that little boy deserves to have his brother. And YOU deserve to have your big brother and to LIVE and grow and be. None of us deserved what happened to you.
And your Daddy doesn't talk about it much. He feels guilty. When he talks about you, it usually starts with somethign having to do with how we could have changed what happened. How we could have fixed it. How things could have been different. How to prevent it from happening again. I know he loved you and misses you as much as any of us, but he is quiet. I think he hides it because he knows that the pain is so raw and clawing for me that he feels like he must be strong because talking about you makes us both hurt more for a little while. Its easier for him to deal with the medical facts than with YOU sometimes, so he thinks of it clinically. When he does let himself feel, he's angry. Very very angry. But he cries for you too. He nearly had a mental breakdown for months after you were born. He had migraines and health issues from all of it. At your funeral, he lost it completely, sobbing while thanking his Marines and friends for coming and supporting us and while telling them about how amazing you were. He loves you so very much. And I know he talks to you, just as I do. So listen to his advice. He's pretty good at it. He is your Daddy, afterall.
I wish things could be different, little one. I ache to have you here with me. Instead, you're in a box on my dresser just below a collage of photos of us all together the day you were born. Next to that box, there is an album of HUNDREDS of photos taken of you in your few short minutes of life and when we held you the day they cremated you. I wish there were thousands more. Hundreds of thousands. I'd walk across the desert without a drop of water for one more minute with you, my love. One more chance to touch your face and let you know how very loved you are and how missed. You will never be forgotten. Not for one minute. Never. You will always be a part of our family and we will always have a place for you in our hearts. We even have a tiny pumpkin for you in our Pumpkin Family that we do on the porch every year with your initial on it. Your photos hang on our walls. We talk about you and the pregnancy with you, the labor, and our few moments with you, just as much as we talk about the pregnancy, birth, and first days with your brother. We only wish we could have gotten to know you better and that you could have known just how much we truly love you with all that we are.
So, happy almost birthday, little one. I wish you were here to celebrate with us. But, don't worry, we'll have cake for you and a little 3 person party. You're welcome to blow out your candle if you want. Your brother said he'd help. And that you need dinosaur cupcakes for your party. Its going to be a pretty big deal around here. Wish you could come.
I love you. So much.
Love,
Mama
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Monday, July 30, 2012
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
The best feeling ever!
I started out at 171.
Today, I weigh 144!!!
19-24lbs until my goal. When it was 50lbs, it seemed completely impossible. But now, 27lbs from my original weight, I see the light at the end of the tunnel. I would love to be 120-125 again (what I weighed when I went to college). And I'm going to get there! My first goal is to get to 135 by the time my Hubs gets back from deployment (9lbs in 1-2.5 months or so, so totally possible). Then lose the last 10 by letting my sexy, muscular, ridiculously hot Marine husband work out with me (P90X, HERE I COME!)---His body fat is like 7% or less and he's RIPPED, so its going to be AMAZING to not feel like a tub of lard when we're naked together!
When I broke through the 150 barrier, I CRIED.
Today, when I saw 144 on the scale, I did again.
If I do this EVERY time I cross a 5lb goal, my Husband is going to make fun of me---ya know, right after he finishes drooling and humping my leg
BEFORE and CURRENT pics below...although the iPhone app won't let me post them in order!
Today, I weigh 144!!!
19-24lbs until my goal. When it was 50lbs, it seemed completely impossible. But now, 27lbs from my original weight, I see the light at the end of the tunnel. I would love to be 120-125 again (what I weighed when I went to college). And I'm going to get there! My first goal is to get to 135 by the time my Hubs gets back from deployment (9lbs in 1-2.5 months or so, so totally possible). Then lose the last 10 by letting my sexy, muscular, ridiculously hot Marine husband work out with me (P90X, HERE I COME!)---His body fat is like 7% or less and he's RIPPED, so its going to be AMAZING to not feel like a tub of lard when we're naked together!
When I broke through the 150 barrier, I CRIED.
Today, when I saw 144 on the scale, I did again.
If I do this EVERY time I cross a 5lb goal, my Husband is going to make fun of me---ya know, right after he finishes drooling and humping my leg
BEFORE and CURRENT pics below...although the iPhone app won't let me post them in order!
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Emotional Vomit
Sometimes the urge to let words flow out of me becomes so strong that I find myself staring at a blank sheet of paper or, more often, a blank page on a computer screen. When I start to write, I may not be entirely sure of what I will find when I am finished. I only know that it comes from somewhere inside so deep that the words could never find their way up through my lungs and into my throat to be spoken aloud.
You see, I often find that when I open my mouth to speak, that the words are jumbled. My mouth simply can't form the sounds in the right ways to make it come out the way it was meant. The written word, however, leaves so little and so much room for interpretation. There is no inflection. There is no sarcasm. There is only the truth of what is written and that can be taken in so many ways, dependent upon the person who has found themselves reading it (that would be you, dear internet follower).
So, for whatever comes hereafter, I hope you find in it some healing or some laughter or some perspective. Whatever you find, may you enjoy it and take it in the spirit in which it is offered: one broken soul offering up a piece of herself to strangers.
Today, among many other things, I found the memorial dress made for Deagan by my friend Heather. It was hand stitched and made perfect by her hands. I love it and which I had received it in the mail before his body was turned over to the funeral home. When we were able to view him again after that, I was too afraid to undress and redress him because his paper thin skin had become sticky in the early stages of decay and I did not want to risk removing the meager garments they had prepared him in. I carried it with me to view him, but could not bear to bring harm to him, even in death, so he never wore the beautiful little white satin gown that would just have perfectly fit him.
The gown was in a pocket in my suitcase from our move here. As I began repacking for our return move to California, I found it as well as the blanket we wrapped him in and the tiny little heart given to us by the hospital that matched the blanket they gave us. The blanket with the faintest stain from his blood or mine. The heart that I tucked in close to his chest as I swaddled him after he had died so that his brother could hold him. The tiny knit hat that swallowed his even tinier head, but looked too cute in the pictures to take off. The hat that couldn't hide the swirls of dark hair at his temples that promised to grow into a thick mane had he only had the chance to live.
As I stood there, holding the few remaining mementos of the child I will never again hold or kiss, I clutched them to my chest and buried my face in them and inhaled as deeply as I could, knowing that, nearly 9 months later, any faint scent of him would not be there. But I had to try. I needed some part of him to keep with me always. Those tiny flecks of blood on the blanket. The molecules still on the heart. The microscopic hair on the hat. I needed it as close to me as it could possibly be. I wanted to just pull them inside me and hold them there, knowing even in that moment, nothing will ever fill the deep hole inside me that has been there too long.
I have been walking around incomplete since the moment a doctor spoke to me and said, "He will be born tonight and he will die." My only response to him was "What is the best case, miracles-happen, scenario" and when he told me, I told him I'd take that option instead. And I almost succeeded. I almost, through sheer force of will, determination, and fervent and constant prayer, managed to keep my son alive.
I don't know that I will ever again be that strong. I don't know that I will ever again look into the black open pit of fear and take a confident step into it, so sure that I would walk across unharmed simply by refusing to fall. It wasn't that I thought I could control it all. It wasn't that I didn't think God would force me to endure even more pain after what I'd already gone through. It was, simply, that I refused to allow it. I refused to let negativity invade and fear to take hold. I refused to be a willing victim and not fight tooth and nail to the very bitter end.
I'm not sure I have that kind of strength now. I'm not sure I have anything left at all. What I didn't lose when I lost Deagan, I give away every single day to my living son because he deserves all of my joy and my love. And I give it to my husband because he is an amazing man and person. And I have little left for myself because the fire in me, the very heat that forged the woman who refused to give in, is in an urn on my dresser. And nothing will ever be completely right again.
You see, I often find that when I open my mouth to speak, that the words are jumbled. My mouth simply can't form the sounds in the right ways to make it come out the way it was meant. The written word, however, leaves so little and so much room for interpretation. There is no inflection. There is no sarcasm. There is only the truth of what is written and that can be taken in so many ways, dependent upon the person who has found themselves reading it (that would be you, dear internet follower).
So, for whatever comes hereafter, I hope you find in it some healing or some laughter or some perspective. Whatever you find, may you enjoy it and take it in the spirit in which it is offered: one broken soul offering up a piece of herself to strangers.
Today, among many other things, I found the memorial dress made for Deagan by my friend Heather. It was hand stitched and made perfect by her hands. I love it and which I had received it in the mail before his body was turned over to the funeral home. When we were able to view him again after that, I was too afraid to undress and redress him because his paper thin skin had become sticky in the early stages of decay and I did not want to risk removing the meager garments they had prepared him in. I carried it with me to view him, but could not bear to bring harm to him, even in death, so he never wore the beautiful little white satin gown that would just have perfectly fit him.
The gown was in a pocket in my suitcase from our move here. As I began repacking for our return move to California, I found it as well as the blanket we wrapped him in and the tiny little heart given to us by the hospital that matched the blanket they gave us. The blanket with the faintest stain from his blood or mine. The heart that I tucked in close to his chest as I swaddled him after he had died so that his brother could hold him. The tiny knit hat that swallowed his even tinier head, but looked too cute in the pictures to take off. The hat that couldn't hide the swirls of dark hair at his temples that promised to grow into a thick mane had he only had the chance to live.
As I stood there, holding the few remaining mementos of the child I will never again hold or kiss, I clutched them to my chest and buried my face in them and inhaled as deeply as I could, knowing that, nearly 9 months later, any faint scent of him would not be there. But I had to try. I needed some part of him to keep with me always. Those tiny flecks of blood on the blanket. The molecules still on the heart. The microscopic hair on the hat. I needed it as close to me as it could possibly be. I wanted to just pull them inside me and hold them there, knowing even in that moment, nothing will ever fill the deep hole inside me that has been there too long.
I have been walking around incomplete since the moment a doctor spoke to me and said, "He will be born tonight and he will die." My only response to him was "What is the best case, miracles-happen, scenario" and when he told me, I told him I'd take that option instead. And I almost succeeded. I almost, through sheer force of will, determination, and fervent and constant prayer, managed to keep my son alive.
I don't know that I will ever again be that strong. I don't know that I will ever again look into the black open pit of fear and take a confident step into it, so sure that I would walk across unharmed simply by refusing to fall. It wasn't that I thought I could control it all. It wasn't that I didn't think God would force me to endure even more pain after what I'd already gone through. It was, simply, that I refused to allow it. I refused to let negativity invade and fear to take hold. I refused to be a willing victim and not fight tooth and nail to the very bitter end.
I'm not sure I have that kind of strength now. I'm not sure I have anything left at all. What I didn't lose when I lost Deagan, I give away every single day to my living son because he deserves all of my joy and my love. And I give it to my husband because he is an amazing man and person. And I have little left for myself because the fire in me, the very heat that forged the woman who refused to give in, is in an urn on my dresser. And nothing will ever be completely right again.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Begging for Treats
So, we have 3 dogs here currently. My dog, Bandit, the in-laws dog, Cody, and my brother-in-law's dog, Reno. We keep their treats in the pantry where we also keep Smidget's snacks.
So, today, my MIL was giving out treats to the dogs and she had 4 dogs lined up in a row ready to accept them. Yes, four. One of them had no fur and looked suspiciously like Smidget squatting on his haunches. So, she commanded the dogs to "Sit!" and all four did. Then she gave them each a treat (3 got Beggin' Strips and the one little fur-less one got a goldfish cracker).
My kiddo sure is silly.
When the dogs start barking at a fox in the back yard in the evening, he runs right over and stands in the midst of them (he's similar height to two of them) and barks and barks right along side them.
As a baby he ate out of their dog bowls too, if I didn't watch him like a hawk.
All in all, I think my child thinks he's a puppy.
I can live with that ;)
So, today, my MIL was giving out treats to the dogs and she had 4 dogs lined up in a row ready to accept them. Yes, four. One of them had no fur and looked suspiciously like Smidget squatting on his haunches. So, she commanded the dogs to "Sit!" and all four did. Then she gave them each a treat (3 got Beggin' Strips and the one little fur-less one got a goldfish cracker).
My kiddo sure is silly.
When the dogs start barking at a fox in the back yard in the evening, he runs right over and stands in the midst of them (he's similar height to two of them) and barks and barks right along side them.
As a baby he ate out of their dog bowls too, if I didn't watch him like a hawk.
All in all, I think my child thinks he's a puppy.
I can live with that ;)
Monday, July 2, 2012
Things Mama's Do/Know (2)
1. Mamas accept that there will be toads. Lots of them. On her. Beside her. Under her. Its going to happen. And Mama is going to have to kiss a few and hold a few and pet a few. And she's going to pretend to be disgusted and put-upon by it. But, then she remembers that she taught the little man how to catch them and showed him all about them, so its really her fault anyway, so she might as well play with them too.
2. Mamas remember their favorite parts of childhood and do their best to give that to their child. For me, that's adventure. We go adventuring. We never know where we'll wind up, we just GO! Sometimes we go pet the horses next door. Sometimes we find shiny rocks in the driveway. Sometimes we catch toads or crawfish or anything else that will hold still long enough. Mostly, though, Mama remembers catching lightning bugs and shares those joys in what seems miraculous with her little man. Even if it means staying up past bedtime.
3. Mamas remember that while kids do need proper nutrition and healthy snacks and very little sugar, summer is made up of popsicles, s'mores, and watermelon. Its a requirement, so don't bother denying it. Just enjoy it and remember that he can eat his celery for his next snack.
4. Mamas know that little boys must learn how to roast weenies over a campfire (and marshmallows!) and learn how to make his face turn red with a flashlight in the mouth and how to set up a tent and climb inside and play under the stars. Little boys live for camping. And mamas also know that they're still tough guys when they get scared by noises outside and need to snuggle mommies in the night. And mamas secretly love it and snuggle them right back---because that MIGHT have been a scary monster, ya know?
5. Mamas know how to hold their pee. They know that pregnancy and 10lbs kicking you in the bladder is NOTHING compared to a sick feverish little man who just fell asleep on your chest and is absolutely miserable who won't sleep without being on his mama---who has a bladder full to bursting. And mama won't begrudge him one little bit, even though she wants to scream in frustration. But you bet she knows how to carry him to the potty and pee without waking him up if she reaches DEFCON-5 status. And has done it often.
6. Mamas know that grins mean mischief. Every single time. Even when he's being good, the grin promises more to come. Even when he's being bad, the grin tells Mama that he didn't mean it and he won't mean it next time either. Mama also knows that she knows how to grin too. And that he learned his sense of mischief from her. Afterall, she's been painting mustaches on him since he was 3 months old. Because you just can't have too much fun in life! Just wait til Daddy gets back---he's getting marker mustaches too :D
7. Mama knows that little boys need their Daddy time and hand over, even though SHE hasn't talked to Daddy in a week and wants nothing more than to hear his voice and listen to him breathe over the phone. Mamas know that even if he never speaks a word to Daddy, that he still wants to hold the phone and "talk" to him. And Mama knows that listening to both her men fall asleep while they talk to each other, then picking up the phone to listen in herself is just about the most perfect way to spend an evening that was ever created.
8. Mama knows that little boys LOVE their weenies. They talk about them. They play with them. They share their joy in having a weenie with everyone they meet. They announce in public restrooms that "Daddy has a weenie" and tell everyone "Daddy have big weenie. I has little weenie" and grins with pride when everyone within earshot has to cover a chuckle in response.
9. Mama knows that little people love nothing on earth more than an audience. They will perform for hours in front of perfect strangers and eat up the attention. Then, when you want them to show off a new skill for a doctor/teacher/grandparent/etc, they will clam up completely and pretend they don't speak English. And then bust out with a monologue the instant they think no one is paying attention to them. Because kids are NUTS.
10. Mamas love snuggling their naked babies---even when they're not babies anymore. Simply because mamas desire to gobble up every single square inch of their child every moment of the day. We want to absorb all of them that we can and have as much tactile, auditory, and other imput from our child as we possibly can. Because we know they grow too quickly and you can never get back even one single moment.
So, pardon me while I go snuggle my naked little boy while he sleeps---I plan to pinch his little butt (its just so damn CUTE!) and rub my face on his back and smell his little boy smell as I drift off to sleep.
2. Mamas remember their favorite parts of childhood and do their best to give that to their child. For me, that's adventure. We go adventuring. We never know where we'll wind up, we just GO! Sometimes we go pet the horses next door. Sometimes we find shiny rocks in the driveway. Sometimes we catch toads or crawfish or anything else that will hold still long enough. Mostly, though, Mama remembers catching lightning bugs and shares those joys in what seems miraculous with her little man. Even if it means staying up past bedtime.
3. Mamas remember that while kids do need proper nutrition and healthy snacks and very little sugar, summer is made up of popsicles, s'mores, and watermelon. Its a requirement, so don't bother denying it. Just enjoy it and remember that he can eat his celery for his next snack.
4. Mamas know that little boys must learn how to roast weenies over a campfire (and marshmallows!) and learn how to make his face turn red with a flashlight in the mouth and how to set up a tent and climb inside and play under the stars. Little boys live for camping. And mamas also know that they're still tough guys when they get scared by noises outside and need to snuggle mommies in the night. And mamas secretly love it and snuggle them right back---because that MIGHT have been a scary monster, ya know?
5. Mamas know how to hold their pee. They know that pregnancy and 10lbs kicking you in the bladder is NOTHING compared to a sick feverish little man who just fell asleep on your chest and is absolutely miserable who won't sleep without being on his mama---who has a bladder full to bursting. And mama won't begrudge him one little bit, even though she wants to scream in frustration. But you bet she knows how to carry him to the potty and pee without waking him up if she reaches DEFCON-5 status. And has done it often.
6. Mamas know that grins mean mischief. Every single time. Even when he's being good, the grin promises more to come. Even when he's being bad, the grin tells Mama that he didn't mean it and he won't mean it next time either. Mama also knows that she knows how to grin too. And that he learned his sense of mischief from her. Afterall, she's been painting mustaches on him since he was 3 months old. Because you just can't have too much fun in life! Just wait til Daddy gets back---he's getting marker mustaches too :D
7. Mama knows that little boys need their Daddy time and hand over, even though SHE hasn't talked to Daddy in a week and wants nothing more than to hear his voice and listen to him breathe over the phone. Mamas know that even if he never speaks a word to Daddy, that he still wants to hold the phone and "talk" to him. And Mama knows that listening to both her men fall asleep while they talk to each other, then picking up the phone to listen in herself is just about the most perfect way to spend an evening that was ever created.
8. Mama knows that little boys LOVE their weenies. They talk about them. They play with them. They share their joy in having a weenie with everyone they meet. They announce in public restrooms that "Daddy has a weenie" and tell everyone "Daddy have big weenie. I has little weenie" and grins with pride when everyone within earshot has to cover a chuckle in response.
9. Mama knows that little people love nothing on earth more than an audience. They will perform for hours in front of perfect strangers and eat up the attention. Then, when you want them to show off a new skill for a doctor/teacher/grandparent/etc, they will clam up completely and pretend they don't speak English. And then bust out with a monologue the instant they think no one is paying attention to them. Because kids are NUTS.
10. Mamas love snuggling their naked babies---even when they're not babies anymore. Simply because mamas desire to gobble up every single square inch of their child every moment of the day. We want to absorb all of them that we can and have as much tactile, auditory, and other imput from our child as we possibly can. Because we know they grow too quickly and you can never get back even one single moment.
So, pardon me while I go snuggle my naked little boy while he sleeps---I plan to pinch his little butt (its just so damn CUTE!) and rub my face on his back and smell his little boy smell as I drift off to sleep.
Seems overwhelming:
Okay, as for current testing:
1. Clotting factors/thrombophilia (negative)
2. Hormonal/Thyroid/metabolic (negative)
3. Hormonal/Fertility (normal)
4. Genetic (normal based on NO family history in 4 generations of ANYTHING).
5. Karyotype/Chromosome Count (normal for me. DH gets tested when he comes home)
6. Ovaries/tubes (normal)
7. Infection. Since you can't test for them all, the doc gave me a high-dose of antibiotics and told me to take them and Rx'd some for DH too. That way IF it was some minor infection that has lingered through the years from God-knows-where (DH and I both get tested constantly---military likes to make sure you're clean, haha)---well, lets just say that IF it was the infection, we'll both be cleared. Amazing to think that the solution could be 2 huge pills that I took 2 weeks ago and that I may already be fixed and there's no way of knowing because infection can be so well hidden by the body.
8. Uterus (HSG done, results this week). 6+
As for the uterus----
I suspect I may have fibroid tumors because the HSG didn't look normal to me (consider that I don't have experience reading them, just that my uterus wasn't the triangle shape that is 'normal' for most women). So, either my uterus is oddly shaped and no one saw that through 7 pregnancies or I have fibroid tumors that have caused the interior surface of my uterus to become oddly shaped. If this is the case, I suspect it would be intramuscular fibroids (submucosal, I believe is the term) and would require estrogen therapy (reduce estrogen = shrinking tumors) for several months to try to make them go away.
This is just my own supposition based off the fact that my uterus looked perfect on the left side and rounded on the right. Most naturally-occurring uterine malformations include T-shaped (not me), heart shaped (not me), or deviated (not me). None of those are the case, so I suspect that it is not merely that my uterus is naturally somewhat strangely shaped (and since I've had a full-term birth, that would make it not medically significant, possibly). Instead, I suspect that IF what I saw is accurate, that it is a fibroid or group of fibroids (which could explain all of my losses, actually, even Deagan).
However, the treatment is several months of hormone therapy, surgery, recovery, and then a complicated TTC/pregnancy and then a very likely automatic C-section (my propensity to make 10lb babies + weakened uterus from surgical scarring all over = automatic C). And given that my cervix SUCKS, I could be stuck with a very early C-section and still get a NICU preemie/micro-preemie. And, even if I do get pregnant and have a baby and all that, it would still be a year + of treatment and recovery and I do NOT think I can deal with that at all.
So, even though its an answer, I hope that I'm just a dum-dum and can't read an HSG and that its nothing at all and I was hallucinating at the time. I should get images of the HSG at my appointment and I plan to bring up my concerns about the shape with my doctor to see whether I was way off base or not---and when I get the pics, I'll post. They're interesting, regardless of whether I'm an idiot or not.
As for the REST of my treatment plans, etc:
1. TTC
---Take baby asprin from beginning of TTC EVERY day until birth
---Chart and take OPKs to pinpoint Ovulation
---Begin progesterone suppositories (200mg 2x/day) at ovulation
---Test for pregnancy at 10DPO onward (or earlier, I'm a POASA).
---If test negative at 16-18DPO, stop progesterone to trigger period.
---If test positive, call doctor ASAP to be seen
2. FROM BFP - 14 weeks:
---Continue baby aspirin OR
---Begin Lovenox/Heparin to prevent blood clotting issues (can't test for them all!)
---Continue progesterone 200mg 2x/day (or 3x/day depending on levels)
---Blood draws every 2 days until heartbeat detected
---Ultrasound every week until 12 weeks
---Monitor cervix via ultrasound every week.
3. 14-24 weeks:
---Continue baby aspirin/Lovenox/Heparin (waiting on doc to hear plan)
---Switch to progesterone injections or continue suppositories 200mg 2-3x/day
---Cerclage done at 12-14 weeks
---Weekly cervical ultrasounds
---Growth ultrasounds to measure baby's growth
4. 25-36 weeks (God Willing):
---Continue baby aspirin/Lovenox/Heparin
---Continue progesterone therapy
---Continue weekly cervical checks
---Continue cerclage
---Continue growth scans every 2 weeks
---Steroid injections for lung growth
---Weekly NSTs
---Decrease activity ("almost" bedrest)
5: 36-40 weeks
---Continue aspirin/Lovenox/Heparin
---Continue progesterone, slowly weaning at 38 weeks
---Remove cerclage
---Switch to manual cervial checks (non-ultrasound)
---Continue growth scan every 2 weeks
---Return to normal activity
---Continue NSTs
---Another round of steroids depending on baby's well-being/size.
That's the plan as of the day before my HSG was done. So, if something WAS wrong with the HSG as I suspect (but I may be HSG illiterate), we may be changing all that. We shall see.
1. Clotting factors/thrombophilia (negative)
2. Hormonal/Thyroid/metabolic (negative)
3. Hormonal/Fertility (normal)
4. Genetic (normal based on NO family history in 4 generations of ANYTHING).
5. Karyotype/Chromosome Count (normal for me. DH gets tested when he comes home)
6. Ovaries/tubes (normal)
7. Infection. Since you can't test for them all, the doc gave me a high-dose of antibiotics and told me to take them and Rx'd some for DH too. That way IF it was some minor infection that has lingered through the years from God-knows-where (DH and I both get tested constantly---military likes to make sure you're clean, haha)---well, lets just say that IF it was the infection, we'll both be cleared. Amazing to think that the solution could be 2 huge pills that I took 2 weeks ago and that I may already be fixed and there's no way of knowing because infection can be so well hidden by the body.
8. Uterus (HSG done, results this week). 6+
As for the uterus----
I suspect I may have fibroid tumors because the HSG didn't look normal to me (consider that I don't have experience reading them, just that my uterus wasn't the triangle shape that is 'normal' for most women). So, either my uterus is oddly shaped and no one saw that through 7 pregnancies or I have fibroid tumors that have caused the interior surface of my uterus to become oddly shaped. If this is the case, I suspect it would be intramuscular fibroids (submucosal, I believe is the term) and would require estrogen therapy (reduce estrogen = shrinking tumors) for several months to try to make them go away.
This is just my own supposition based off the fact that my uterus looked perfect on the left side and rounded on the right. Most naturally-occurring uterine malformations include T-shaped (not me), heart shaped (not me), or deviated (not me). None of those are the case, so I suspect that it is not merely that my uterus is naturally somewhat strangely shaped (and since I've had a full-term birth, that would make it not medically significant, possibly). Instead, I suspect that IF what I saw is accurate, that it is a fibroid or group of fibroids (which could explain all of my losses, actually, even Deagan).
However, the treatment is several months of hormone therapy, surgery, recovery, and then a complicated TTC/pregnancy and then a very likely automatic C-section (my propensity to make 10lb babies + weakened uterus from surgical scarring all over = automatic C). And given that my cervix SUCKS, I could be stuck with a very early C-section and still get a NICU preemie/micro-preemie. And, even if I do get pregnant and have a baby and all that, it would still be a year + of treatment and recovery and I do NOT think I can deal with that at all.
So, even though its an answer, I hope that I'm just a dum-dum and can't read an HSG and that its nothing at all and I was hallucinating at the time. I should get images of the HSG at my appointment and I plan to bring up my concerns about the shape with my doctor to see whether I was way off base or not---and when I get the pics, I'll post. They're interesting, regardless of whether I'm an idiot or not.
As for the REST of my treatment plans, etc:
1. TTC
---Take baby asprin from beginning of TTC EVERY day until birth
---Chart and take OPKs to pinpoint Ovulation
---Begin progesterone suppositories (200mg 2x/day) at ovulation
---Test for pregnancy at 10DPO onward (or earlier, I'm a POASA).
---If test negative at 16-18DPO, stop progesterone to trigger period.
---If test positive, call doctor ASAP to be seen
2. FROM BFP - 14 weeks:
---Continue baby aspirin OR
---Begin Lovenox/Heparin to prevent blood clotting issues (can't test for them all!)
---Continue progesterone 200mg 2x/day (or 3x/day depending on levels)
---Blood draws every 2 days until heartbeat detected
---Ultrasound every week until 12 weeks
---Monitor cervix via ultrasound every week.
3. 14-24 weeks:
---Continue baby aspirin/Lovenox/Heparin (waiting on doc to hear plan)
---Switch to progesterone injections or continue suppositories 200mg 2-3x/day
---Cerclage done at 12-14 weeks
---Weekly cervical ultrasounds
---Growth ultrasounds to measure baby's growth
4. 25-36 weeks (God Willing):
---Continue baby aspirin/Lovenox/Heparin
---Continue progesterone therapy
---Continue weekly cervical checks
---Continue cerclage
---Continue growth scans every 2 weeks
---Steroid injections for lung growth
---Weekly NSTs
---Decrease activity ("almost" bedrest)
5: 36-40 weeks
---Continue aspirin/Lovenox/Heparin
---Continue progesterone, slowly weaning at 38 weeks
---Remove cerclage
---Switch to manual cervial checks (non-ultrasound)
---Continue growth scan every 2 weeks
---Return to normal activity
---Continue NSTs
---Another round of steroids depending on baby's well-being/size.
That's the plan as of the day before my HSG was done. So, if something WAS wrong with the HSG as I suspect (but I may be HSG illiterate), we may be changing all that. We shall see.
Friday, June 22, 2012
Nothing...
Makes you appreciate having a healthy kid like nursing them through a sickness!
Makes you smile in wonder like the desire for play and fun even with a raging fever!
Melts you like sickly snuggles!
Some of our sick day adventures...
Makes you smile in wonder like the desire for play and fun even with a raging fever!
Melts you like sickly snuggles!
Some of our sick day adventures...
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Top 10 Reasons to Love a Smidget.
1. I love his sense of adventure. In the pool, he'll suddenly grab my neck and tell me to hide because the dinosaurs are coming. In the bathtub, the spout becomes a waterfall and we swim through the river. The shower is a powerful rain storm. In the car, we get chased by dinosaurs or run over by tractors or we crash something and he tells me the story as I drive along. When he is feeling a little bored, he grabs my hand and assigns me a role and we act out his fantasy. We build forts out of pillows and sheets and chairs. We make mustaches with markers and make faces in the mirror. We paint wild scenes on big pieces of paper (The Big Bad Wolf blows down Mr Pine's Purple House sometimes). We make big adventures out of chalk in the driveway. We go for long walks to treasure hunt or see the animals. We go to the beach simply because it's Thursday and we feel like it. We go to the zoo because its fun to watch the animals...be animals! We pretend to be animals. We sing songs loudly and off key. We dance for no reason to only the beat of our own drummers. We play naked (okay, he does. I wear jammies). We wrestle. We do somersaults. We think puddles are made for jumping in. We know dirt washes off. We know clothes are replaceable. We know that wounds are just another way to tell a story. We know that bare feet feel better in the grass. We catch ladybugs (and other bugs. LOTS of bugs in my life). We wash the car by "painting" it with soap. We turn every source of water into a source of splashing and mess and competition and fun. We take flying leaps into Mama's arms because the best part of leaping off into thin air is knowing you'll be caught and swept up by someone who will always be there to protect you. We take ridiculous pictures for Daddy. We catch lightning bugs. We defy bedtime because its summer and some things just have to be experienced. We watch the sun come up. We watch the sun set. We swim at dusk until it becomes so cold we have to stay in up to our chins. We, simply, make adventure in every single thing we do. Because little boys were made for adventuring.
2. His love of learning about what other people might think to be mundane: We go on treasure hunts and find new kinds of leaves, nuts, seeds, rocks, bark, bones, shells, nests, bugs, animals and more. Anything that is not alive goes right into his treasure bucket for him to keep. Anything alive we either observe from afar (deer, hawks, buzzards, snakes, horses, etc) or pick up and touch and handle and get to know. He loves learning about the gum-ball seeds and helicopter seeds. He likes watching plants grow in the garden and picking the vegetables and finding the bugs (he really likes bugs). And he REMEMBERS it all. If he sees an elephant, he can remember what THAT elephant was doign the last time he saw it. If you tell him a fact about an animal, he can repeat it a week later. If you show him how to drop a helicopter leaf, he'll want to do it from a higher and higher surface so he can watch it go down. He sees the miraculousness in ALL of the tiny details of everything he touches and sees. He loves the texture of a frog's skin. He loves the flicker of the lightning bug. He loves the way the plane flies across the sky. And he loves to just soak it all up and astound you with it later.
3. His amazing amount of joy and his ability to just let go and SCREAM his happiness so loud that everyone within 100 yards just has to smile at the sounds coming out of him. The neighbor girls LOVE his excited squeals and the way he LOVES to startle dogs/cats/birds by screaming and giggling. He catches frogs. As many as he can (and we're talking multiple every evening) and EVERY time its just like the first time all over. We explore the frog and count his fingers and toes and examine his parts and we pet him and put them in little boats or buckets and play with them for just a little while. Then, EVERY single time, we set the froggy free to go find his mommy or daddy or some such (I make up reasons for the froggy to need to be set free) and Smidget willingly sets him loose in the grass, only to cry because his friend hopped away. And then he catches another and squeals and giggles and runs around showing EVERYONE his new froggy friend and we repeat the process over and over with more shrieks of joy and exclamations about the frog's noises and jumps than I ever thought one boy would make. Who knew you could spend an hour with a frog and smile and giggle so much?
4. His love of stories, the sillier the better. He has a stack of books by his bed and can tell you about each and every one, quoting most of them verbatim and whole lines from others. He doesn't just listen to the story, he gets drawn into it and every story becomes interactive. He gasps in surprise, yells "Oh no!" if he suspects something bad might happen, he gets concerned about the characters if they look sad, he giggles/squeals uproariously when he is amused, he SCREAMS the punch lines to the jokes. He GETS the jokes. His whole body gets into it and he gets miffed if the reader isn't excited enough! And tha'ts just the stories we READ! The stories he TELLS! Wow. There's danger and suspense and humor and always a hug and a kiss and reassurance that its all better when he's done. He has an amazing gift at age 3 to captivate his audience. And I look forward to watching his gift grow and what he does with it.
5. The unexpected sweetness. From a boy who is constantly moving and who's emotions run to the extreme of loud and boisterous (including when he's mad....he's a true Gemini that way, I guess). Every one of his emotions is deeply felt. When he is sad, he is absolutely heartbroken. When he is angry, he is bitterly angry and can hold a grudge quite strongly...for about 5 minutes when his emotions have changed and gone somewhere new. Amidst all these loud and overpowering emotions, sometimes he just slows down and is totally at peace and is the most loving and sweet kid in the world. He tells you he loves you repeatedly, hugs you and kisses you a dozen times. He holds your hand or sits with you and snuggles. Every once in a while you get this peek of him that is just nothing but sweet. Sure, he kisses his Mama and various others (Mama most of all still!) just about any time---especially if there is an audience to perform for. He loves showing off! But, you only get that truly meltingly sweet man every once in a while during those quiet and peaceful times. This is one of the reasons I most love 7am. Squishy little Smidget is the sweetest midget of all (except when he is a dinosaur jumping on his mama's head :D).
6. His BOY-ness. He has a pet mummified frog...actually two. He loves bones and teeth. He likes mud and dirt. He LOVES catchign bugs and animals. He pets snakes and frogs and catches worms. He is almost always barefoot, dirty, and totally happy. He fishes. He loves cars and trucks and fire engines and planes and trains and dinosaurs. He likes to grill. He likes superheroes. He thinks I'm a superhero. He flirts. He smooches girls (especially his Auntie Jenny and his Mama). He talks about girls like they're some wonderful thing. He is a romantic and says nice things to girls and gives them presents (a leaf here, a rock there, a kiss later). He wants to be a pilot and a fireman and a superhero and a ninja and zookeeper and a circus performer and a train engineer. He is everything that epitomizes a little boy...and so very much more.
7. His feet. Smooth and yet callused. Soft and yet firm. Dirty and then so clean. In shiny loafers or bare in the dirt. Limp over the arm of a chair or wedged up under my ribs just like they were before he was even born. Playing "stinky feet" with him. Making footprints with him. Piggybacking him and holding them to keep him up. Lotioning them. Comparing our feet sizes---he still thinks mama has big feet! Watching those first shaky wobbly steps become the frantic mad-dash across the lawn. Climbing stairs one foot at a time. Standing on tippy toe to brush his teeth or drink from the fountain. The way he crosses his ankles when he sits/lays. The way he thinks Mama is an ottoman. All the steps in life he'll take and hoping I get to be along for the walk.
8. His face. So expressive. There is never any doubt as to exactly what he's feeling---even if he only wants you to THINK that's how he feels---the kid is a great actor. The quick grin, the slow smile, the bashful half smile, the smirk, the frown, the worried look, the mischief, the tired, the cranky, the mad, the disappointed, the happy, the gleeful, the flirtatious, the completely limp exhaustion, the curiosity, the concentration, the wonder, the awe, the joy, the grief, the love. Everything he is, reflected on the most beautiful face on Earth.
9. His generosity. He shares food and picks flowers for me. He shares is toys. He doesn't want anyone to feel left out, so he draws them in with little tiny gifts---a painting, a flower, a leaf, anything he thinks will make you happy.
10. Because he's mine. Because I longed for him. Because I wanted him more than I've ever wanted anything. Because I had to work so hard for him. Because I've worked so hard for others. Because I know what loss is. Because I know that he is the most important person in the entire world. Because I know that he is perfect. Because I can make him into an amazing man. Because of the amazing little man he already is. Because he was perfect the moment he was born. Because he has brought me so much and love and already broken my heart 1000 times over by outgrowing some of the things I love most. Because he will always be mine, no matter where life takes him. Because every bit of me will always belong to him. Because I am his first love. Because he is my greatest love.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Things Mamas Do:
1. Mama's take showers with tiny plastic dinosaurs because they know that "Dinosaur likes bathtime" and know its not worth the effort to remove them every time its Mama's turn to use the tub.
2. Mama's rarely get to read a Mama book, but know every single word to "Dinosaur vs Bedtime" and all of her little ones' favorite books---and doesn't even need to see the page to "read" it to a big boy who loves to hold the book himself.
3. Mamas have forgotten what its like to be alone in the bathroom. Tiny eyes peek around shower curtains when they wake up and want to snuggle. Tiny hands clap when Mama goes pee pee on the potty (even in public!). And tiny little feet sway back and forth as a little guy sits on the counter and plays with Mama's make-up brushes while she does her makeup. And little lips grin as he and his Mama brush their teeth and act silly as they get ready for bed.
4. Mamas know that big boys want to eat with forks...even if they can't keep the rice on them and would be better off with spoons.
5. Mamas don't get mad when their closets are invaded. They giggle quietly as naked little boys tap-dance across the room in bright orange patent leather ballet flats. And then they grab the camera.
6. Mamas know how to spark their little ones' imaginations with everyday items. Toilet paper rolls become trumpets, wrapping paper tubes become swords, towels become capes, balled up paper becomes snow-balls or boulders. Blankets make tents. Cushions make forts. And just about everything has a little bit of magic.
7. Mama knows that the 5 best words a child will ever hear are: "Oh baby, come to Mama!"
8. Mamas know that kisses really do make boo-boos all better and that any "owwie" can be cured with snuggles.
9. Mama isn't worried about being perfect and having an immaculate house or a perfect child. She knows that everyone grows up too soon and the best part of life is snuggling in bed with your Mama when you're little and don't know that the world can be very difficult to live in.
10. Mama feels a little bit of pain every single time she looks at her baby. Every time he smiles. Every time he hugs her. Every single time he kisses her and says "Wubz you, Mama!" Because love hurts, even the good kind, when your heart is so full that it can't hold any more at all. It hurts when you're so full of love for your little one that it literally feels like you might just rip at the seams one of these days. And even the pain feels good. Even when you feel that stinging in your eyes before your eyes well up. Even when you have the lump in your throat because you want to let the tears fall---tears of joy and love for your perfect little person.
That's what being a mama is all about.
2. Mama's rarely get to read a Mama book, but know every single word to "Dinosaur vs Bedtime" and all of her little ones' favorite books---and doesn't even need to see the page to "read" it to a big boy who loves to hold the book himself.
3. Mamas have forgotten what its like to be alone in the bathroom. Tiny eyes peek around shower curtains when they wake up and want to snuggle. Tiny hands clap when Mama goes pee pee on the potty (even in public!). And tiny little feet sway back and forth as a little guy sits on the counter and plays with Mama's make-up brushes while she does her makeup. And little lips grin as he and his Mama brush their teeth and act silly as they get ready for bed.
4. Mamas know that big boys want to eat with forks...even if they can't keep the rice on them and would be better off with spoons.
5. Mamas don't get mad when their closets are invaded. They giggle quietly as naked little boys tap-dance across the room in bright orange patent leather ballet flats. And then they grab the camera.
6. Mamas know how to spark their little ones' imaginations with everyday items. Toilet paper rolls become trumpets, wrapping paper tubes become swords, towels become capes, balled up paper becomes snow-balls or boulders. Blankets make tents. Cushions make forts. And just about everything has a little bit of magic.
7. Mama knows that the 5 best words a child will ever hear are: "Oh baby, come to Mama!"
8. Mamas know that kisses really do make boo-boos all better and that any "owwie" can be cured with snuggles.
9. Mama isn't worried about being perfect and having an immaculate house or a perfect child. She knows that everyone grows up too soon and the best part of life is snuggling in bed with your Mama when you're little and don't know that the world can be very difficult to live in.
10. Mama feels a little bit of pain every single time she looks at her baby. Every time he smiles. Every time he hugs her. Every single time he kisses her and says "Wubz you, Mama!" Because love hurts, even the good kind, when your heart is so full that it can't hold any more at all. It hurts when you're so full of love for your little one that it literally feels like you might just rip at the seams one of these days. And even the pain feels good. Even when you feel that stinging in your eyes before your eyes well up. Even when you have the lump in your throat because you want to let the tears fall---tears of joy and love for your perfect little person.
That's what being a mama is all about.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
A glimpse into his future...
Every once in a while, I get a glimpse of the man I am raising as he will be when he IS a man. Sometimes I get a flash only a few years into the future, sometimes its decades. What sends me there might be a gesture, a facial expression, a few words spoken in his squeaky toddler voice.
I see him becoming a thoughtful man. A man who contemplates live decisions long and hard but who is entirely capable of spontaneity and who does not over-think daily life. Someone who can be serious and sensitive, but also knows how to be entirely in the moment and full of love and laughter. Someone who is tallish and stocky who knows his size and isn't afraid to use it---usually to protect what he loves. Someone who is physically active, but also loves a quiet moment with a book or a favorite movie. Someone who, even at 30, still has a secret love of dinosaurs and gets excited to take his children to the museum to see the bones and get down on the carpet and play with plastic dinosaur toys. Someone who is somewhat afraid of new things and changes in life, but who grabs the hand of the one he loves and knows he'll get through it just fine. A smart man, but one who does not need everyone else around him to feel stupid. A man of integrity who knows how to say "I'm sorry" and "please" and "I was wrong" but who also is confident enough to stand up for himself and demand what he is due when times are difficult. A man who is sure of himself and knows his body. A man who can read the character of a person and disregard exterior flaws. A man who does not see race, color, or disability as negative factors when weighing the worth of another human. A man who calls his Mama just to say hello and can admit that he misses her. A man who sees a pregnant woman and runs ahead to open the door for her. A man who knows that women are just as capable as he is in nearly every way, but respects that physical feats are easier for him and, thus, offers to relieve her burdens. A man who helps others, but does not allow himself to be taken advantage of. A man who does not give everything to people who are unwilling or unable to give something back to him, even if it is only something small.
I hope that he grows up to be a wonderful man. Its my job to help him do it.
More than anything in the world, I want to be there to see him do it and be his biggest cheer-leader and strongest supporter through it all.
And I hope that gorgeous grin and expressive little face don't ever lose the magic that helps them completely melt my heart every time I look at him. I can't imagine anyone more beautiful than my children, especially the one I've gotten to watch grow from a newborn into an infant and then to a toddler...and, now, with potty training under-weigh, a little boy. He's no longer a baby, but he'll always be MY baby...even when he's old and gray, tall and handsome, bigger than me, and loved by all the world...even if I have 30 more babies someday in the future, this one will still be my baby forever and ever.
I see him becoming a thoughtful man. A man who contemplates live decisions long and hard but who is entirely capable of spontaneity and who does not over-think daily life. Someone who can be serious and sensitive, but also knows how to be entirely in the moment and full of love and laughter. Someone who is tallish and stocky who knows his size and isn't afraid to use it---usually to protect what he loves. Someone who is physically active, but also loves a quiet moment with a book or a favorite movie. Someone who, even at 30, still has a secret love of dinosaurs and gets excited to take his children to the museum to see the bones and get down on the carpet and play with plastic dinosaur toys. Someone who is somewhat afraid of new things and changes in life, but who grabs the hand of the one he loves and knows he'll get through it just fine. A smart man, but one who does not need everyone else around him to feel stupid. A man of integrity who knows how to say "I'm sorry" and "please" and "I was wrong" but who also is confident enough to stand up for himself and demand what he is due when times are difficult. A man who is sure of himself and knows his body. A man who can read the character of a person and disregard exterior flaws. A man who does not see race, color, or disability as negative factors when weighing the worth of another human. A man who calls his Mama just to say hello and can admit that he misses her. A man who sees a pregnant woman and runs ahead to open the door for her. A man who knows that women are just as capable as he is in nearly every way, but respects that physical feats are easier for him and, thus, offers to relieve her burdens. A man who helps others, but does not allow himself to be taken advantage of. A man who does not give everything to people who are unwilling or unable to give something back to him, even if it is only something small.
I hope that he grows up to be a wonderful man. Its my job to help him do it.
More than anything in the world, I want to be there to see him do it and be his biggest cheer-leader and strongest supporter through it all.
And I hope that gorgeous grin and expressive little face don't ever lose the magic that helps them completely melt my heart every time I look at him. I can't imagine anyone more beautiful than my children, especially the one I've gotten to watch grow from a newborn into an infant and then to a toddler...and, now, with potty training under-weigh, a little boy. He's no longer a baby, but he'll always be MY baby...even when he's old and gray, tall and handsome, bigger than me, and loved by all the world...even if I have 30 more babies someday in the future, this one will still be my baby forever and ever.
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