I was reading up on my pregnancy the other day. I love reading about how big my baby girl is growing each week. She started out as a tiny poppy seed and now, at 35 weeks, weighs as much as a honeydew! It's intriguing to me how quickly babies and small children develop. One minute they can't even hold up their own heads and then a year later they are walking and talking. Their ability to learn and to grow is amazing! And, even though this is my third baby I am still in a constant state of amazement of the little and brilliant life growing inside of me. Eva Grace Wolff, I have loved you since the moment that I saw that positive pregnancy test and I will never stop.
Anyways, one of things that my baby newsletter suggested was that I write down a pregnancy memory and I thought what a good idea that was. There have been many. So, here goes, Eva. These are some memories that we made together before you were even born.
Dec 13, 2010- This is the day that I found out that I was expecting my third baby. I was pretty excited. Daddy and I had just finished Christmas shopping for your brothers. I texted a friend and asked her to pray that everything would go okay.
March 26, 2011- This is the first day that somebody recognized that I was actually pregnant and not just fat...HAHAHA!!! Daddy and I were on a cruise, trying to take advantage of some alone time together before another baby arrived. The guy that took care of us and cleaned our room congratulated me and seemed really happy for me. His wife was also pregnant with a baby girl and he was very excited to become a daddy. That is one of my best memories about our vacation.
April 8, 2011- This is the day that the doctors told me that I was getting my wish and having a girl. I was so thrilled. I almost couldn't believe it. I went out with a friend after my appointment and bought you some pretty dresses.
April 10, 2011- This is the first day that I was terrified of having a girl. I was so worried that I might not be able to protect you from all of the evil in this world. I never want you to be heartbroken or taken advantage of. I never want you to feel the awful pain of rejection or to know the feeling of worthlessness. I always want you to feel safe, happy, secure and, above all else, loved. I made up my mind to tell you every day how beautiful, extraordinary and special you are.
July 19, 2011- Your brother, Ryan, wanted to feel you move, so I put his hand on my belly and you gave him a good hard kick and started to move all over the place. He was not very happy that you kicked him and told me he didn't want a baby Eva...HAHA! But, I know that he will love you and be an awesome big brother.
These are some of my memories, baby girl. I can't wait to make a whole life time more of them with you. Love, Momma.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Change Is Inevitable...so, deal with it ;-)
I sat down to write a blog simply because I need to de-stress and relax, but I know that if I try to read a book or watch a movie then I will undoubtedly pass out and I'm not quite ready to do that just yet. It's only 9:17pm here and the kiddies still need their teeth brushed, diapers/pull-ups changed and their bedtime story before I can actually call it a night. I feel like such an old lady. Am I seriously ready for bed at nine at night?! What happened to the fun, exciting, spontaneous, loud, obnoxious, young girl that I used to be and who is this boring old bat that has taken over? Okay, maybe I still have loud and obnoxious down, but I miss the rest of me.
I can tell you what happened. Kids happened. Do I regret having my children? Absolutely not. Do I miss who I was before children? EVERY SINGLE DAY!!!
It really bugs me when people try to make you feel bad about changing. As if you did it to purposely piss them off. Like, when your single friends get all annoyed that you actually want to spend time with the person you CHOSE to marry and they say stuff like "You promised you wouldn't change" or "You better not ignore us, now that your married. We were friends before he came along". First of all, I never made that promise. I'm not stupid and I realized that no matter who entered my life first my husband would always be number one. It also tends to get on my nerves when friends who don't yet have kids refuse to even try to understand that going out for you now takes some serious planning. No, I'm not trying to be rude when I turn down your offer to leave my house in 5 minutes to meet you at the store. I simply need time to find a babysitter, feed the kids dinner and possibly even shower (because that happens when I can fit it in now that I have kids, not first thing in the morning:-/). And, of course the age old argument that "Just because you have kids doesn't mean that you have to change." Um, let me just say that yes, yes it does. That is, in fact, exactly what it means. Do people not understand that as soon as a ring goes on your finger or as soon as conception takes place you have already begun the changing process? Getting married is change. Having a baby is change. Change is inevitable.
Change doesn't have to be a bad thing. I, for one, love being married and I also love being a mother. To me change is not something to be feared, but to be embraced. I get to be creative and come up with different ways to have fun with it. For instance, when you are married you get to hang out with other couples, make some new friends, do different things and act completely surprised when your hubby shows up for girls night out;-) And, when you become a mother the simplest things in life like taking a ten minute shower, having your mom watch the baby, so you can eat dinner without him/her on your lap, reading more than a page of a good book at a time or getting a full eight hours of sleep become luxuries to you and you appreciate life just a little more then you did when you were childless and spoiled.
Plus, there is no better feeling than little Mason crawling up on my lap just to give me a smooch before he crawls back down to go play with his toys (strewn across the entire house). There is no better sound than my mini me, Ryan, laughing his head off at a poop joke or begging me not to sweep up the ants (oops! That's where that piece of jelly toast landed) because they are really cool and they're his friends. There is no better reward than when my husband comes up behind me and rubs my shoulders and back after a long day, because he appreciates everything I've done.
So, having written all of that let me just finish by saying that number one, I live for girls night out!.... and date nights with my lover. Number two, I wouldn't trade my kids in for all the spontaneity and energy in the world. And, number three, maybe when I'm in my forties and my children are grown I can revisit the young girl I used to be and go have fun with her, but for right now I am content to be this tired, sometimes frazzled, but usually happy version of me.
I can tell you what happened. Kids happened. Do I regret having my children? Absolutely not. Do I miss who I was before children? EVERY SINGLE DAY!!!
It really bugs me when people try to make you feel bad about changing. As if you did it to purposely piss them off. Like, when your single friends get all annoyed that you actually want to spend time with the person you CHOSE to marry and they say stuff like "You promised you wouldn't change" or "You better not ignore us, now that your married. We were friends before he came along". First of all, I never made that promise. I'm not stupid and I realized that no matter who entered my life first my husband would always be number one. It also tends to get on my nerves when friends who don't yet have kids refuse to even try to understand that going out for you now takes some serious planning. No, I'm not trying to be rude when I turn down your offer to leave my house in 5 minutes to meet you at the store. I simply need time to find a babysitter, feed the kids dinner and possibly even shower (because that happens when I can fit it in now that I have kids, not first thing in the morning:-/). And, of course the age old argument that "Just because you have kids doesn't mean that you have to change." Um, let me just say that yes, yes it does. That is, in fact, exactly what it means. Do people not understand that as soon as a ring goes on your finger or as soon as conception takes place you have already begun the changing process? Getting married is change. Having a baby is change. Change is inevitable.
Change doesn't have to be a bad thing. I, for one, love being married and I also love being a mother. To me change is not something to be feared, but to be embraced. I get to be creative and come up with different ways to have fun with it. For instance, when you are married you get to hang out with other couples, make some new friends, do different things and act completely surprised when your hubby shows up for girls night out;-) And, when you become a mother the simplest things in life like taking a ten minute shower, having your mom watch the baby, so you can eat dinner without him/her on your lap, reading more than a page of a good book at a time or getting a full eight hours of sleep become luxuries to you and you appreciate life just a little more then you did when you were childless and spoiled.
Plus, there is no better feeling than little Mason crawling up on my lap just to give me a smooch before he crawls back down to go play with his toys (strewn across the entire house). There is no better sound than my mini me, Ryan, laughing his head off at a poop joke or begging me not to sweep up the ants (oops! That's where that piece of jelly toast landed) because they are really cool and they're his friends. There is no better reward than when my husband comes up behind me and rubs my shoulders and back after a long day, because he appreciates everything I've done.
So, having written all of that let me just finish by saying that number one, I live for girls night out!.... and date nights with my lover. Number two, I wouldn't trade my kids in for all the spontaneity and energy in the world. And, number three, maybe when I'm in my forties and my children are grown I can revisit the young girl I used to be and go have fun with her, but for right now I am content to be this tired, sometimes frazzled, but usually happy version of me.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Politically Incorrect!
Hmmm...oh boy! Where do I even begin? I guess I should start out by saying that I am one of the most politically incorrect people I know. It's not that I try to be rude or hateful or that I want people to dislike me or cringe when they see me coming, it's just that I don't see the point in sugar coating the truth. I don't care if you're red, yellow, black or white. I don't care if you're fat or skinny. I simply use those adjectives to describe people, because it's easier than saying "The young woman behind that older man", especially if you're standing in a crowded room and there are a bunch of young and old people mingled together. Having said that let me now say this maybe I should start being more aware of what I say, since I have two young boys, one of which repeats absolutely everything...even things I don't remember ever saying.
I might have come to this revelation the day my son tried having a conversation with a "darker skinned" child that lives down the street. It went something like this:
Ryan: Hey, little black boy want to play?
Jeffery: What?!
Me: (completely mortified) Ryan, his name is Jeffery.
Ryan: (getting an inch from Jeffery's face and staring into his eyes) Hey, Jeffery what color is your skin?
Me: (jumping out of my seat) OKAY...who wants to blow bubbles?
Now, the thing here to remember is that Ryan is only three and super curious and alert. He picks up on every difference and similarity and asks a billion questions. He was not being mean at all, he was just wondering what made him and his friend different colors. So, how do you go about explaining that blurting that stuff out is rude without making it seem like one is better than the other? Here is another example. Maybe, you'll understand more of what I'm getting at.
Ryan: Hey, dad, Victor the Great is my black friend.
Brad: Ryan, don't say he's your black friend, just say he's your friend.
Ryan: Why? Is it bad to say black?
I enter the room.
Ryan: Hey, mom, Victor is peach!
Me: (looking at Brad) Great! Now we've taught him that being white is good and being black is bad:-/
So, now do you understand why I am a little leary about trying to teach my son that noticing differences is not okay?? Don't get me wrong if he were to ever make fun of the differences I'd be all over that with discipline. He is definitely no angel, like when my mother came over for dinner and he called her a "Whore-Goose"...I can promise you I have never ever said that and he was disciplined on the spot!...or the time when he announced to everyone that "Nana wasn't beautiful" (Nana is my very sensitive MIL, thank God she wasn't there to hear that one!). But, he isn't a little demon, either. He is just a little boy learning the ways of this crazy, confusing and hypocritical world. Hopefully, I can help him navigate it, while keeping him from getting shot or ending up in jail.
So, here's to all the politically incorrect people out there trying to make their way in this ever confusing "politically correct" world.
I might have come to this revelation the day my son tried having a conversation with a "darker skinned" child that lives down the street. It went something like this:
Ryan: Hey, little black boy want to play?
Jeffery: What?!
Me: (completely mortified) Ryan, his name is Jeffery.
Ryan: (getting an inch from Jeffery's face and staring into his eyes) Hey, Jeffery what color is your skin?
Me: (jumping out of my seat) OKAY...who wants to blow bubbles?
Now, the thing here to remember is that Ryan is only three and super curious and alert. He picks up on every difference and similarity and asks a billion questions. He was not being mean at all, he was just wondering what made him and his friend different colors. So, how do you go about explaining that blurting that stuff out is rude without making it seem like one is better than the other? Here is another example. Maybe, you'll understand more of what I'm getting at.
Ryan: Hey, dad, Victor the Great is my black friend.
Brad: Ryan, don't say he's your black friend, just say he's your friend.
Ryan: Why? Is it bad to say black?
I enter the room.
Ryan: Hey, mom, Victor is peach!
Me: (looking at Brad) Great! Now we've taught him that being white is good and being black is bad:-/
So, now do you understand why I am a little leary about trying to teach my son that noticing differences is not okay?? Don't get me wrong if he were to ever make fun of the differences I'd be all over that with discipline. He is definitely no angel, like when my mother came over for dinner and he called her a "Whore-Goose"...I can promise you I have never ever said that and he was disciplined on the spot!...or the time when he announced to everyone that "Nana wasn't beautiful" (Nana is my very sensitive MIL, thank God she wasn't there to hear that one!). But, he isn't a little demon, either. He is just a little boy learning the ways of this crazy, confusing and hypocritical world. Hopefully, I can help him navigate it, while keeping him from getting shot or ending up in jail.
So, here's to all the politically incorrect people out there trying to make their way in this ever confusing "politically correct" world.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
The End Of Sorts...
As many of you probably know, or have assumed from reading my previous blogs, my marriage hit a rough patch. If I were to be completely honest with myself and with all of you I'd have to say that trouble in paradise had been brewing for a while, but everything came to a head about a month ago. I would really rather not go into detail. Some wounds just need to stay closed, so that the healing process can be completed. The wounds I have are some of those. I prefer them not to keep being re-opened by having to keep re-telling "the story". I have already gone over every minute detail, rehashed every moment leading up to one of the worst moments in my history, and cried myself dry. While all of that was a part of my healing process I am done now. I am finally ready to move forward without looking back.
This next part is for all of the important people in my life. Whether you know all of the details or not I really appreciate your support. Many of you have been there for me in my darkest moments and you will never know how much that has meant to me. Just know that I would not have pulled through this without you.
There is, however, one thing that I need to make very clear. If you are truly in support of me then you are in support of everything that I want and I do want my marriage and my husband. He still is and always will be the man of my dreams. I realize that everyone has their own opinions. Many of you may not be able to understand that, but it is MY choice and not yours, so I ask that you, at the very least, respect that.
You don't need to feel obligated to choose sides. There is no Team Brad or Team Rachel, there is only a Team Us and I wouldn't have it any other way.
This ends the blogs about this particular area in my life, so you can all breathe a sigh of relief now. I am on to much more boring and funnier/lighthearted topics. Thank you for bearing with me and reading along in my not so happy or uplifting recounts of a life I am truly thankful to be living.
This next part is for all of the important people in my life. Whether you know all of the details or not I really appreciate your support. Many of you have been there for me in my darkest moments and you will never know how much that has meant to me. Just know that I would not have pulled through this without you.
There is, however, one thing that I need to make very clear. If you are truly in support of me then you are in support of everything that I want and I do want my marriage and my husband. He still is and always will be the man of my dreams. I realize that everyone has their own opinions. Many of you may not be able to understand that, but it is MY choice and not yours, so I ask that you, at the very least, respect that.
You don't need to feel obligated to choose sides. There is no Team Brad or Team Rachel, there is only a Team Us and I wouldn't have it any other way.
This ends the blogs about this particular area in my life, so you can all breathe a sigh of relief now. I am on to much more boring and funnier/lighthearted topics. Thank you for bearing with me and reading along in my not so happy or uplifting recounts of a life I am truly thankful to be living.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Then and now...
So, my blog has unfortunately become less funny and more serious and personal. I will eventually get it back to being slightly funny and probably "grotesque", as someone once put it, but for right now it is what it is and I hope you'll bare with me.
As, I began unpacking some boxes I came across a poem I wrote a little more than five years ago. That was the result of a conversation I'd had with my husband when he first expressed his thoughts about what I believed; what I thought we both believed.
Reading through it today has reminded me that my faith has never wavered and that no matter what may come I will always have that.
It's not well written or even profound, but that's me. Simple and real, not eloquent or put on.
So, here it is.
What do you believe in exactly?
You say you believe in me.
Please don't, I'm not anything.
You say you won't follow blindly.
So, then what is it that you're doing?
Is understanding truly everything?
What about instant peace?
Is that so hard to believe?
And, what about all of our mistakes?
Do you not believe in his grace?
You ask me if your love is enough,
but wonder if it's not?
I ask you if HIS love is enough
And you tell me that it's not.
I listen almost speechless.
Definitely scared.
Am I supposed to pretend that I don't care?
I do.
But you're telling me in confidence
So my questions will remain unanswered
Because I'm not allowed to ask.
I Try to be the strong one.
I don't want you to see my fear.
I don't want you to doubt that I believe HE'S here.
So, I hide my tears in the dark of the room.
And, I struggle not to cry.
I am hoping you don't notice that my calm voice is a lie.
I am reminding myself to breath
It only gets harder as you continue pouring out your heart to me.
I must be strong.
I cannot be weak.
This is me.
But, maybe you're not the only one, who has been hiding how you really feel.
Could it be that I too have secrets that this strength is not real?
Maybe, I'm just a little bit sick of being "brave".
Too tired to lead you the rest of the way.
I need you to know that yes, I am weak.
I am not the rock I want to be.
There are things that shake my faith.
I rely on others for my strength.
I do cry when I get hurt.
I need help getting back up.
Though, it's self perseverance I've tried to show, I cannot do it on my own.
I want you to know that I've chosen the path I will follow.
With or without you.
That things do shake my faith, but they will never break my faith.
That while I may need help getting back up, I will never give up.
I don't have the answer to every question.
I don't think anybody does.
Some things we must figure out on our own, but we are never alone.
Finally, no matter what you believe in or what you don't.
No matter what path you choose to go.
No matter how long it takes you to find the truth.
No matter what it takes until you do.
I will be here when you need me.
I will pray with you and for you.
I will never give up and leave.
I will always love you.
This ends the poem. Funny how something written a few months after we said "I do" still pertains today.
As, I began unpacking some boxes I came across a poem I wrote a little more than five years ago. That was the result of a conversation I'd had with my husband when he first expressed his thoughts about what I believed; what I thought we both believed.
Reading through it today has reminded me that my faith has never wavered and that no matter what may come I will always have that.
It's not well written or even profound, but that's me. Simple and real, not eloquent or put on.
So, here it is.
What do you believe in exactly?
You say you believe in me.
Please don't, I'm not anything.
You say you won't follow blindly.
So, then what is it that you're doing?
Is understanding truly everything?
What about instant peace?
Is that so hard to believe?
And, what about all of our mistakes?
Do you not believe in his grace?
You ask me if your love is enough,
but wonder if it's not?
I ask you if HIS love is enough
And you tell me that it's not.
I listen almost speechless.
Definitely scared.
Am I supposed to pretend that I don't care?
I do.
But you're telling me in confidence
So my questions will remain unanswered
Because I'm not allowed to ask.
I Try to be the strong one.
I don't want you to see my fear.
I don't want you to doubt that I believe HE'S here.
So, I hide my tears in the dark of the room.
And, I struggle not to cry.
I am hoping you don't notice that my calm voice is a lie.
I am reminding myself to breath
It only gets harder as you continue pouring out your heart to me.
I must be strong.
I cannot be weak.
This is me.
But, maybe you're not the only one, who has been hiding how you really feel.
Could it be that I too have secrets that this strength is not real?
Maybe, I'm just a little bit sick of being "brave".
Too tired to lead you the rest of the way.
I need you to know that yes, I am weak.
I am not the rock I want to be.
There are things that shake my faith.
I rely on others for my strength.
I do cry when I get hurt.
I need help getting back up.
Though, it's self perseverance I've tried to show, I cannot do it on my own.
I want you to know that I've chosen the path I will follow.
With or without you.
That things do shake my faith, but they will never break my faith.
That while I may need help getting back up, I will never give up.
I don't have the answer to every question.
I don't think anybody does.
Some things we must figure out on our own, but we are never alone.
Finally, no matter what you believe in or what you don't.
No matter what path you choose to go.
No matter how long it takes you to find the truth.
No matter what it takes until you do.
I will be here when you need me.
I will pray with you and for you.
I will never give up and leave.
I will always love you.
This ends the poem. Funny how something written a few months after we said "I do" still pertains today.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Finding out what's important
For those of you looking for a funny or lighthearted read keep going. Maybe, it's because of a "conversation" that I just had with the person that I love the most, maybe it's because that person just left today on a business trip or maybe it's because of my pregnancy hormones, but whatever the reason I am feeling more contrite and poignant than silly or sarcastic. For those of you that know me that is probably a big shock, but here goes...
After questioning my husband about why we aren't quite on the same page lately and why I was feeling disconnected from him, it was brought to my attention that people aren't gonna stick around and try to connect when they are put down all the time and made to feel worthless. I don't know why this came as a complete shock to me, but it did. Not the whole people not wanting to be treated like garbage part, but the fact that my husband felt like I treated him that way. I literally felt like the breath had been knocked out of me. What?! Me?! Making the person I care about the most feel like dirt to the point that they didn't feel like being around me?! Ouch! What a serious wake up call.
After reminding myself to breathe the first thing I did was apologize and tried to make him believe that I really and truly love him.
The next thing I did was reflect. I thought about previous conversations and arguments. I thought about how bad my attitude can be or how nasty I can get when I'm stressed. I even thought about my body language. When was the last time I had reached out to hold his hand or stood on my tippy toes to give him a smooch? Why couldn't I say "I love you" or "You're awesome!" as opposed to "You don't change enough diapers" or "Really? A short check? How about getting to work on time?!". Why can't I just be happy and content with the many, many blessings I have. Like, the fact that my husband has a job and the fact that there are diapers to change and we aren't struggling with conceiving. Is it really necessary to roll my eyes, shrug my shoulders or smirk in response to my husband's best efforts?
For a moment I felt panicky. My marriage isn't bad or falling apart. We have our ups and downs like everyone else, but in that moment it crossed my mind that life is not guaranteed. What if my husband, the one person I got to choose to be related to, ended up in a freak accident and dying? What if the last thing he ever thought about me was that I didn't appreciate him and didn't have anything positive to say to him? This may all seem so cheesy and cliche, but I was really horrified with myself and disgusted at the way I had been treating my bestfriend. The worst part is that we had this conversation over text three days before he was supposed to leave on his trip.
I remembered something that my pastor's wife had shared with the ladies. She said if we had bad attitudes or let negativity and stress dictate our attitudes then our whole house would be in chaos. You see, we women set the tone for our homes. If we are prayed up and don't let the stresses of life dictate our moods then we can set the tone for a calm, peaceful and joyful household. I took that to heart and tried to make the last few days count.
I stopped nagging, grumbling and complaining. I let the little things and minor annoyances slide without a rude or sarcastic comment. I tried being appreciative and being more affectionate. I tried adopting a calm light hearted spirit. Of course I'm still a work in progress, but I liked the new me and I hope my husband did as well.
My new goal is not how much I can get done around the house or keeping a tally of who does what. It's not to save enough money to buy really great stuff for our new home or make my husband leave early enough, so that we can get every penny we can. My new goal is to make sure that the person I committed to spending the rest of my life with knows just how special he is and how lucky I feel to have made that commitment to him and how exited I am to keep that commitment.
After questioning my husband about why we aren't quite on the same page lately and why I was feeling disconnected from him, it was brought to my attention that people aren't gonna stick around and try to connect when they are put down all the time and made to feel worthless. I don't know why this came as a complete shock to me, but it did. Not the whole people not wanting to be treated like garbage part, but the fact that my husband felt like I treated him that way. I literally felt like the breath had been knocked out of me. What?! Me?! Making the person I care about the most feel like dirt to the point that they didn't feel like being around me?! Ouch! What a serious wake up call.
After reminding myself to breathe the first thing I did was apologize and tried to make him believe that I really and truly love him.
The next thing I did was reflect. I thought about previous conversations and arguments. I thought about how bad my attitude can be or how nasty I can get when I'm stressed. I even thought about my body language. When was the last time I had reached out to hold his hand or stood on my tippy toes to give him a smooch? Why couldn't I say "I love you" or "You're awesome!" as opposed to "You don't change enough diapers" or "Really? A short check? How about getting to work on time?!". Why can't I just be happy and content with the many, many blessings I have. Like, the fact that my husband has a job and the fact that there are diapers to change and we aren't struggling with conceiving. Is it really necessary to roll my eyes, shrug my shoulders or smirk in response to my husband's best efforts?
For a moment I felt panicky. My marriage isn't bad or falling apart. We have our ups and downs like everyone else, but in that moment it crossed my mind that life is not guaranteed. What if my husband, the one person I got to choose to be related to, ended up in a freak accident and dying? What if the last thing he ever thought about me was that I didn't appreciate him and didn't have anything positive to say to him? This may all seem so cheesy and cliche, but I was really horrified with myself and disgusted at the way I had been treating my bestfriend. The worst part is that we had this conversation over text three days before he was supposed to leave on his trip.
I remembered something that my pastor's wife had shared with the ladies. She said if we had bad attitudes or let negativity and stress dictate our attitudes then our whole house would be in chaos. You see, we women set the tone for our homes. If we are prayed up and don't let the stresses of life dictate our moods then we can set the tone for a calm, peaceful and joyful household. I took that to heart and tried to make the last few days count.
I stopped nagging, grumbling and complaining. I let the little things and minor annoyances slide without a rude or sarcastic comment. I tried being appreciative and being more affectionate. I tried adopting a calm light hearted spirit. Of course I'm still a work in progress, but I liked the new me and I hope my husband did as well.
My new goal is not how much I can get done around the house or keeping a tally of who does what. It's not to save enough money to buy really great stuff for our new home or make my husband leave early enough, so that we can get every penny we can. My new goal is to make sure that the person I committed to spending the rest of my life with knows just how special he is and how lucky I feel to have made that commitment to him and how exited I am to keep that commitment.
 |
| "I do" September 9, 2005 |
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
The lovely truths about birth...Warning: Not so lovely!
So, lately I have been thinking a lot about birth...my last birth experience to be exact. Probably because I am expecting again. So far I have given birth to two rambuctious boys. The first via Cesarian Section and the second via....well, ya know, the good old fashioned way;-) It's the second birth, the "natural" birth, that has me worried. Can you even classify that as natural?! I don't think so, but here I am again. I tell myself that I just get pregnant for the great parking spots, but it's gotta be something more than that to make me put my once very nice body through all of this for a third time.
My mind keeps going back to the hospital room on the day of November 17, 2009. Six days before my due date. It's been twelve hours, two and a half of that has been pure pushing...and screaming. The doctors actually shut the door, so I wouldn't scare the other mommy's to be. I am at my breaking point...literally. I am imagining a rubber band stretched to it's limit and getting the little tears in it before it finally snaps. All at once everyone starts yelling. The baby is coming. They can see his head pushing through. Everything happens in a matter of minutes, though it seems as if time has slowed waaaay down. I can feel each beat of my heart, hear everyone, including my normally calm and in control mother, screaming that I'm almost there. I feel the nurse grab my hand and try to yank it in-between my legs, so I can "feel" the baby being born. I grab my hand back completely horrified of what I'll feel. No thank you, grabbing my own baby out is not for me. If it was I'd be at home in my bath tub. I chose the hospital for a reason.
That's when the burning sensation stops for a moment and I feel that first pop. The head is out. My husband, not the brightest crayon in the box, leans down and whispers lovingly in my ear "You're almost done. Now you just gotta get the shoulders out." At this point I literally start weeping. I can't explain to you the intense fear and anxiety that took over me in that moment. All of that work just for the head and I still have to get the shoulders out. With those two sentences my husband had taken my feelings of triumph and victory and had replaced them with extreme fear and doubt. I took a deep breath, prayed that our baby would not be a line backer and pushed with everything I had left. Surprisingly the rest of him popped right out. All the fear, doubt and exhaustion melted away. Sure, I was still tired and the work was not quite finished yet. I knew that my placenta still needed to be pushed out, but that was nothing and soon I was holding Mason Xander Wolff for the first time in my arms.
I'm not gonna tell you that I found the birthing process to be easy or even natural. To me pushing a watermelon through the eye of a needle will never be natural. But, I will tell you this...it was worth it.
I now know that my body is capable of giving birth without splitting into two and that my heart is capable of an intense love, that I can't quite describe, without exploding. That right there is why I am doing this again and why I probably won't stop here.
My mind keeps going back to the hospital room on the day of November 17, 2009. Six days before my due date. It's been twelve hours, two and a half of that has been pure pushing...and screaming. The doctors actually shut the door, so I wouldn't scare the other mommy's to be. I am at my breaking point...literally. I am imagining a rubber band stretched to it's limit and getting the little tears in it before it finally snaps. All at once everyone starts yelling. The baby is coming. They can see his head pushing through. Everything happens in a matter of minutes, though it seems as if time has slowed waaaay down. I can feel each beat of my heart, hear everyone, including my normally calm and in control mother, screaming that I'm almost there. I feel the nurse grab my hand and try to yank it in-between my legs, so I can "feel" the baby being born. I grab my hand back completely horrified of what I'll feel. No thank you, grabbing my own baby out is not for me. If it was I'd be at home in my bath tub. I chose the hospital for a reason.
That's when the burning sensation stops for a moment and I feel that first pop. The head is out. My husband, not the brightest crayon in the box, leans down and whispers lovingly in my ear "You're almost done. Now you just gotta get the shoulders out." At this point I literally start weeping. I can't explain to you the intense fear and anxiety that took over me in that moment. All of that work just for the head and I still have to get the shoulders out. With those two sentences my husband had taken my feelings of triumph and victory and had replaced them with extreme fear and doubt. I took a deep breath, prayed that our baby would not be a line backer and pushed with everything I had left. Surprisingly the rest of him popped right out. All the fear, doubt and exhaustion melted away. Sure, I was still tired and the work was not quite finished yet. I knew that my placenta still needed to be pushed out, but that was nothing and soon I was holding Mason Xander Wolff for the first time in my arms.
I'm not gonna tell you that I found the birthing process to be easy or even natural. To me pushing a watermelon through the eye of a needle will never be natural. But, I will tell you this...it was worth it.
I now know that my body is capable of giving birth without splitting into two and that my heart is capable of an intense love, that I can't quite describe, without exploding. That right there is why I am doing this again and why I probably won't stop here.
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| Ryan Charles January 9, 2008 |
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| Mason Xander November 17, 2009 |
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