Happy birthday to my sweet six-year-old!

I never wanted to be a mother. Never did.  Somehow thought it seemed degrading.  I always thought pregnant women looked extraordinarily vulnerable and weak.  Never wanted to be THAT.  I was always angry that men got off ridiculously easy. Their bodies never had to be stretched and enlarged and eventually displayed for all (well at least doctors and nurses) to see. (I always pictured a county hospital scene with me lined up next to twenty other women, all lying exposed on gurneys, screaming with our legs up in stirrups, while male doctors wandered around barking out orders...) Never wanted to be tied down by the responsibilities of taking care of children.  I was disgusted at the idea of nursing.  "What am I, a cow?" I used to think. 

But eventually, after 9 years of marriage, I realized that if I didn't have children, I might really regret it.  So we went for it.  Closed my eyes (literally) and went for it.  And I got pregnant.  And I was terrified and unsettled....  And then at 18 weeks, things went terribly wrong.  The pregnancy that terrified me was no more.  I sobbed. Frequently.  I wandered around the house in my husband's XXL T-shirt and sweatpants for four months.

And my perspective changed.  I couldn't wait to get pregnant again.  I couldn't wait to be a mother.

Lucky for me, it did not take long.  Four months later, it happened.  The word ECSTATIC would best describe my mood.  I reveled in every second of it (well except for the gigantaur boobs).   I loved it.  It was amazing.  I loved the check-ups; I loved the ultra-sounds; I loved the pregnancy clothes (well, at least at first).  I loved the little kicks from inside my belly.  For the first time in my life, I loved the idea of being a mom. 

And then came the delivery.  John and I were out eating pizza for what would be our last night together without kids.  I had just spent the day putting together Aaron's nursery furniture (which included heavy lifting...)  The contractions came slowly at first; I paused between bites of pizza to catch my breath and grab onto the table.  I was up all night timing each contraction.  In the morning, we went to the hospital.  (I was relieved to see my private room with hotel-style artwork and an entertainment center.  No gurneys.  No stirrups. No screaming.  And only one or two (or three?) people saw me naked. :))  And BTW, epidurals ARE wonderful.

On February 21, 2004, at 6:30 p.m. I had the most beautiful baby boy in my arms. He amazed me then, and he amazes me now.  Kind hearted, sweet, compassionate, thoughtful, sensitive, intense, competitive, good-humored, friendly, wise, curious...I could go on and on.  I immediately took to mothering and loved it (never really loved nursing, but I coped).  I am so happy that I, as a woman, was blessed to be the one to carry him in my body and nurture him.  I am so blessed and privileged to be able to stay home with him and watch him grow.  I am a better person because of him.  I am so thankful that I am a mother.  I am so thankful I am HIS mother.

Over The Freeway and Down The Road

When I was little, I loved the romantic notion of the song, "Over the River and Through the Woods."  I remember reading over and over again an illustrated book with the same title.  On one page, there was a picture of a little girl looking out her front window at a horsedrawn sleigh surrounded by beautiful snowy woods.  I remember running to my front window hoping for a snowy Christmas miracle, but finding instead that same old block wall surrounded by several cacti.  No "white and drifted snow."  No "dapple gray."  No river.

I was also quite enamored with the idea of going to Grandma's house for "fun," "pudding" and "pumpkin pie."  But my Grandmas lived in Michigan and New Jersey.   I lived in Phoenix.  A horse drawn sleigh, or even a car was not going to get us there.  A plane, maybe, but there were five of us.

 In fact, we rarely, if ever, visited family or had family visit for the holidays.  It was just us, and especially when you are a child, "just us" can be boring, and lonely.  Most of my cousins would  gather at my Grandma's house in Michigan and play games of Rummi-Cube, Canasta, and Michigan Rummy.   Later (or so the legend goes) they would sit down to a football game and some pumpkin pie.  I remember feeling quite jealous.  Two years after my Grandma's death, I am still jealous.  Who cares about the snow.  I missed out on HER.

My four-year-old asks me every day if it is fall.  And I know what he is thinking.  "Where are the leaves?!"  "Where is the cold weather?" Because you see, I am once again living in Phoenix, and it is still full of cacti, and still-green leaves.  There is no wind biting our nose or stinging our toes.  There is still no snow. And perhaps those are actually good things, because the weather is actually quite beautiful.  But Phoenix does lack the romance of having four seasons, and it doesn't  fit the "fall" depicted on TV.  So the holidays involve a little imagination.  Finding colorful leaves and drifted snow involves hours of driving.

But for Christmas there will be both Grandmas (and Grandpas)! and there will be pie (I'm hoping cherry?),  and there will be fun!  There will not however, be any pudding...  I decided, after living in California for 11 years, that I want my kids to be near their Grandparents.  I want to at least be able to drive over the freeway and down the road to Grandma and Grandpa's house.  That part of the song is too important to miss.  They are too important to miss, and the cacti is actually quite nice.

John with his mom (and Andrew) and the cacti

My parents

 Lyrics to Over The River And Through The Woods :

Over the river and through the woods
To Grandmother's house we go.
The horse knows the way to carry the sleigh
Through white and drifted snow.

Over the river and through the woods,
Oh, how the wind does blow.
It stings the toes and bites the nose
As over the ground we go.

Over the river and through the woods
To have a full day of play.
Oh, hear the bells ringing ting-a-ling-ling,
For it is Christmas Day.

Over the river and through the woods,
Trot fast my dapple gray;
Spring o'er the ground just iike a hound,
For this is Christmas Day.

Over the river and through the woods
And straight through the barnyard gate.
It seems that we go so dreadfully slow;
It is so hard to wait.

Over the river and through the woods,
Now Grandma's cap I spy.
Hurrah for fun; the pudding's done;

Hurrah for the pumpkin pie.

[ Over The River And Through The Woods Lyrics on http://www.lyricsmania.com/ ]

Reminiscing

Two of my friends just had babies.  I find myself feeling strangely jealous.  Not of the work ahead of them; the midnight feedings, the HOURLY breastfeeding (well, it feels like it, doesn't it?), the "unreasonable" crying, the "getting your body back to normal (ha!)," the desperate rocking and swaying, or the interminable process of getting them to sleep, but of the amazing, amazing experience of having a baby.  The amazing experience of meeting your new child for the first time.  The amazing experience of getting acquainted with his new little nose, his new little toes, his new little everything.  I just loved it.  I will forever, from now until the day I die, feel a twinge of jealousy, an ache of envy whenever someone has a new baby.  Here are some pictures of my sweet ones, hours or days after their births.

Aaron

Samuel

Andrew