Welcome to my less than perfect life!

Embracing the imperfections that make my life practically perfect in every way.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Two Years Old

Two years ago, I lay in a hospital bed and asked every nurse, every doctor, every family member the same question: "Where is the baby?"

Ours was a pregnancy fraught with fear.  I was put on bed rest in December.  The Nugget was due in April.  I had hypertension and diabetes and not the best body for having a baby.  But I WANTED her with all of my heart.

On March 23, 2009, I went to a regular doctor's appointment (I went to these at least once a week).  I lay on the table while we monitored The Nugget's heartbeat.  I was weary of lying at home on the couch alone each day.  I wanted to meet my baby.  My blood pressure was sky rocketing.  The doctor sent me to the hospital to prep for a C-section.

I was excited but also scared.  I no longer trusted my instincts.  When the neo-natologist came in to see me prior to surgery I had only one request: no matter how sick the baby was (she was coming 5 weeks early), please let me see her before they take her away.  He promised.

An hour or so later, I lay on the operating table holding The Mister's hand.  I tried to keep our spirits up.  I made him laugh by mouthing, "elephant shoes", a game of ours to trick the other into saying, "I love you, too."  It worked.

The whole time, I prayed and prayed: Please let her cry.  Please let her cry.


And then, with a tug, my beautiful daughter was born.  And she cried.  And she was big and healthy and beautiful.  And she laid right across from me in a very warm incubator while they sewed me back together.

Soon the doctors took me to recovery and took my baby somewhere else.  She was early and needed special care, I knew.  But I needed to know where she was.  I pushed and pushed, and finally they led our family to her.   I was able to rest once she was okay.

Now that baby is two years old.  It's been such a big year.  She has learned how to walk.  She has stopped taking bottles.  She has begun talking in sentences.  She jumps, she runs, she sings, she dances.  She broke her first tooth.  She visited the Children's Museum and the zoo.  She has developed an attitude and a mind of her own.  She is delight at every turn.  As I write this, she sleeps soundly in her crib (something she has done since 5 months old).

Happy birthday, baby girl.  I am able to rest because you are okay.

Friday, March 11, 2011

Red Writing Hood: Ugly/Beauty


Stepping from the steaming shower in the pre-dawn hours, I stand dripping for a moment before I wipe my bleary eyes, towel off my hair, dry my body.  Most times, I don’t even look at the reflection in the mirror across the room.  Autopilot is in effect.  I dry, I comb, I brush and style, I stumble out the door to work.

Some mornings, though, I stop.  Take inventory.  Survey the scene.  I notice the sagging breasts of motherhood.  The puckering stomach.  I notice the fragile, wrinkled eyes growing older day by day.  I’m still there, but different now.  Stronger and more fragile all at once.

Inevitably on these days my fingers wander to the scar that stretches across my abdomen.  I remember that the nurse in the hospital called it my smile.  “How’s your smile feeling?” she had asked.  I touch it, still reddened and angry from the hot water.  I feel along the full length of it.  I notice the “teeth marks”, the places where the staples that put me back together made their own scars.  I marvel that two babies slipped from their wombs into the world from this very place.

Remembering their tiny bodies, my heart lurches.  One of these babies rests in her crib, no longer a baby but a girl.  A two year old girl.  I imagine her breathing heavily beneath her blanket, dark hair tumbling around her face, clutching her Piglet in her arms for safety.  I will be gone before she awakens today.  I will miss her early morning chatter.

My throat still catches three years later as I think about my baby boy.  How tiny.  How beautiful he was.  My mind tries to make things right again and again, but nothing about losing a child can ever make sense.  This smiling scar, one of my only reminders that he was here.  That he was real.  His peach fuzz body and his high forehead and his tiny, tiny hands.

I have thought a lot about it, about how precious this scar is to me.  I have heard that some women choose to reconstruct their sagging tummies and that the scar can be removed.  I never want to lose mine.  My scar is my reminder that it’s true.  My babies are true.  I know that many women don’t wear this scar.  This is only how I had my babies; others know a different truth.  But this scar - this scar is mine.  My ugly, toothy smile.  The most beautiful thing about me.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Random Tuesday Thoughts

randomtuesday

Check in with The Un Mom to hear all kinds of random stuff from all kinds of random people.  Here's my randomness of the day:

1.  Could The Nugget please not fall asleep for 10 minutes and then wake up crying and I pray pray pray it's just a sleep scream but OF COURSE NOT I have to go back upstairs when I really want to play on the computer.  I'd rather she went down difficult in the first place instead of just lying down peacefully so I don't have that feeling like it's all good only to have to rug pulled out from under me.  Or in this case, my cozy blanky pulled off of me.

2.  Parenthood is a re-run tonight.  I am ashamed to say how disappointed this makes me.  I love those stupid Bravermans more than I love most of my own actual blood relatives.

3.  No.  More.  Dogs.  I will repeat this mantra until I have it through my head that we have too much going on in our lives to try and commit to one more freaking animal.  We have literally had 4 different white dogs spend a trial period in our home in the past year.  It ain't gonna work.  No.  More.  Dogs.

4.  On a related note, so a bit less random, is it disturbing to anyone but me that I encounter enough animal fluids in our house that I feel the need to keep a bottle of Resolve on each level?  How much cat vomit can one clean, I ask you?

5.  "Take a look, it's in a book!  The Reading Rainbow".  You're welcome for the ear worm.

6.  My kid.  She's randomly cute:

Yes, it's an old picture.  Who has time to upload the new ones with all the running up and down the stairs to sooth a crying child?


Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Random Tuesday Thoughts

I am linking up with The Un-Mom for this tasty little series today.  Check out her blog and all of the others linked up.  And now, as she says, let's get ready to randoooommmm....

First off, as many people have pointed out here in blog-land, Charlie Sheen has turned into an even crazier version of the megalomaniac that he already was.  I was already boycotting his misogynistic ass long before his recent episode (in fact, The Mister gets scared if he accidentally stops on a channel which features him because he knows he will get an earful), but now the egg has finally, officially cracked.  Publicly.  Hence why I am TOTALLY IN LOVE with the funniest thing I've seen in weeks.  Check out these Stark Raving Mad Libs.  You can add your words to his insanity and you will crack yourself up!!  I need to thank The Bloggess for helping me find that one.

Second, I have had a cold again this week.  This is only about the MILLIONTH time this winter, so I am just about to go over the edge.  I mostly blame The Nugget who carries every germ she can find home from daycare.  I work in a hospital and have been largely healthy for years despite the germs I am constantly surrounded by.  Now, I am a walking sick ward.  Grrrr....

Third, The Nugget can read most of the book "Snuggle Puppy" by Sandra Boynton (which she says) pretty much all the way through to me.  Of course, it's memorized, not real reading but I think it is the. cutest. thing. ever.

Fourth, where would I be without chinese food, oreo cookies and Ben and Jerry's?  Oh, that's right, a whole lot thinner.  Oh well.

Enjoy the randomness of it all!  'Til next time!