Day 6 - My Children

Raising children is some serious shit. It's hard, difficult work that tests your patience in ways you never knew, like working muscles you never knew you had during that first Pilates class. I am still amazed that a tiny little person (in Jack's case, not so tiny, he's already more than half as tall as I am) can create ways to push your buttons in ways even your husband hasn't figured out yet...boggles my mind. Adding a serious, life-threatening illness to the pot is like adding some sriracha to a bowl of cayenne pepper soup - it just adds fuel to an already heated situation, and I am in no way proud to say that I have taken my emotions out on them at times over this past year - I've snapped and yelled at times much louder and more often than I should have. I pray and pray that some of those memories get lost in the ether.

 

 

But beyond the frustrations and madness of raising children is truly an awe-inspiring space, a place where time both stops and careens forward. I know other parents see their children growing up and want desperately to push the pause button...but I, warranted or not, feel like I'm sprinting, holding their hands and dragging them along, because I want to see everything that they do, I want to see all of the years and the events and growing and the stumbling and the successes and the failures. I want to see and touch and breath it all and I feel like I have to do IT RIGHT NOW. But I can't, so I take every day, and though I may lose it sometimes and I will most definitely never be the perfect mama, I dole out copious amounts of hugs and kisses, and breathe in these beings who for whatever reason were crazy enough to choose me to pass through.

 



10 months.

As with your brother, I am amazed at how lovely, how striking you are, that I produced you. It truly awes me.

You crawl like a lightening bolt, like a water walker hovering just above a solid surface...you "talk" to your brother, you two screech at each other like howler monkeys. You are saying mama but I'm not sure if it's just one of your noises or if you mean it yet. Eating is getting better...sleeping, well, I'm crossing my fingers that the day, or night I should say, is coming. You exhaust me and I am blessed for that. I am sure I will appreciate it more later on. Love you little buggy.

9 Months.

Nine months. Two teeth. Crawling, cruising, crashing.

My big girl, growing up, moving fast.

Blond hair growing, laughing, smiling, clapping.

Singing (screaming) with brother.

Climbing, hugging, waving hello.

Slow down baby girl.

Wait for me.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes....

How do you measure a year in the life?

I measured it in ultrasounds and biopsies, black masses, and sinking feelings.

I measured in it terror-filled hyperventilating half-breaths,
sleepless nights,
early mornings, deep breathing and doctors visits.

I measured it in MRI's and EKG's, blood tests, urine tests, blood sugar tests, finger pricks, and baby kicks.

I measured it in 16 rounds of chemo, hair strands falling out, rainbows of bandanas, and pre-natal non-stress tests.

I measured it in confused stares, loud whispers, grasped hands and prayers.

I measured it in perfect baby girl first cries, in surgery, in CT scans, in pathology reports, in interminable medical bills.

I measured it in help from strangers, kind words, unknown prayers and donor milk.

I measured it in rainy days, grey clouds, heat waves, and electric purple sunsets.

I measured it in stifled shower sobs,
in laughs with chemo nurses,
in baby toes and late night feedings.

I measured it in 33 days of radiation, deep burns, painful cries and peeling skin.

I measured it in a 38th birthday, a 49th for my husband, and an awesome 3rd birthday for my boy.

I measured it in stupid cruel comments, in beautiful gestures, in buckets of tears, oceans of hugs, and yes, cups of coffee.

I measured it in long walks with baby, laughs with my boy, hugs with my husband, and love from family and friends.

I measured it in renewed dreams, hungry views of travel, terrified glances over my shoulder, tentative plans for the future.

That's how I measured a year.

What we need.

(ocregister.com)
 

God gives us what we need, not what we want.

I never wanted a girl. To paraphrase a song I've never heard - never, ever, ever, ever, never, ever was I having a girl. Ever since I myself was small, or whenever I first started entertaining the juvenile desire to be a mother, I was adamant that I wanted boys. ONLY. Maybe it was because I grew up in a female-only household and was pretty much sick of the raging estrogen and resultant lunacy, maybe it was because most of the kids I grew up with, including the cousins I was closest to, were boys, maybe it was because I knew what shits girls could be and didn't ever want to have to deal with that.

As time went on, I amended my wish to be having a boy first. I desperately wanted a boy first, I think because I had harbored a unbridled desire from early childhood for an older brother (which when I was 35 I found out I actually had! and a younger sister! But that is an entirely different chapter in this book. Feel free to pre-order now.) Lo and behold Jack showed up as a VERY pronounced boy at my 20 week ultrasound and I was ecstatic. I remember driving back to work from the US and texting my friend "I have a penis in me!!!!" And I was blessed with a giant, beautiful, smart, funny, and extremely energetic little boy who tests me every day, who forces me to face my faults, who makes me desperately want to be a better mother, who made me a mama, who truly is my heart.

When we attempted to add number two to the family, my husband was already certain we would have a girl. In fact, before Jack, he was certain we would have a boy, then a girl, no matter what happened, what I wanted, whatever. That was it, that was the way it was to be. So, during my 13 week US, the Dr said "It's pretty obvious what it is if you want to know" which I automatically took to mean a boy, I mean, pretty obvious, right? He said, "Yep, pretty obvious it's a girl." The 20 week US confirmed it, although the tech was pretty pissed actually when we said, oh yeah, we know it's a girl. She was a little bent that her surprise factor was usurped. Oh well, the trials we live with. Obviously, you know what happens next - mama gets diagnosed with cancer and to be perfectly honest, as I've mentioned before, the whole "whoohoo, we're having a baby" excitement sort of fell by the wayside. We even, for a few days, did not know if we would be able to keep her.

But then the ground started to solidify again, and I started to breath, and she came. And all of a sudden, this not-quite-tomboy-but never-a-girly-girl started buying ruffly, frilly clothes in sizes that she won't wear for many many months, and that I desperately hunger to see her in. This little girl, who tenously climbed a mountain with me before she was even born, gave me more than she will ever ever know, she gave me another reason to believe. This little girl, who I only met five + months ago, gave me tangible visions of a future, of manis and pedis and dancing and tutus and glitter. This little girl, with her cornflower blue eyes a thread connecting her to her ancestors, a mirror image of me otherwise, puts her powder-soft hands on my face and twists my heart. I need this little girl to know that even though I didn't know that I wanted a girl, she was exactly what I needed, at exactly the right time.