took my time to do some research…

And the best thing I’ve read so far…

shellie ross tweets her sons death 30 mins after he drowns

I am just stunned. First of all, I don’t follow a lot of the stereotypical “mom blogs” who generally have a big network of followers, supporters, etc…  I will admit they really support one another, or seem to.  Today, I was looking at my twitter which is not a daily thing I might add and mostly contains news like fox, cnn, and local stations, when I noticed a tweet from another mommy blogger… can’t remember who defending her blogging friend.

So Shellie Ross, today out of FL, tweets that her  two year old son had just drowned in the family pool.  Thirty minutes after the fact…  to the general public.  I cannot fathom losing my son and then having the ability to even breathe much less tweet 30 minutes later.  It just seems so callous and wrong.  How about a txt to a close friend who could tweet it for you?  It’s like back in time when you go into mourning and wear black… it’s just a common sense thing… you just don’t.  do.  that.

Then Madison McGraw responds online and contacts the media.  My first impression is fame.  You HAVE to want the hits on your blog, knowing your news was posted on the Huffington Post, ABC news, and even the New York Times blog.  She goes overboard for sure.  The mommy bloggers respond on Twitter with name calling:  missing tooth, or gapped tooth, fake breasts, and even goes so far as to post her real name and address.  This all saddens me as these women, although thinking they are doing this to defend their friend, are in fact only making this story continue on and on.

Donations pour in to help the mother…  I don’t know.  Maybe if I’m in that position one day (God forbid) I will reach out to the world, but I can guarantee it won’t be on twitter.  I never post anything so sensitive, raw, polarizing, or just plain strange.  Or I would have someone else post it.  Or I will reach out to my church… either way, I would never subject myself to posting something like this publically on twitter where crazies CAN pick it up and other crazies can get involved in an online bully fight… even tracking down blog posts about it.

From ABC News:

“Fog is rolling in thick scared the birds back in the coop,” Ross tweeted at 5:22 p.m. on Monday.

At 5:23 p.m., her son called 911 to report that his brother, 2-year-old Bryson, was floating unconscious in the pool. Records show that the Brevard County Fire-Rescue paramedics arrived at Ross’ Mirrett Island, Fla., home at 5:38 p.m.

And 34 minutes later, at 6:12 p.m., Ross tweeted again. “Please pray like never before, my 2 yr old fell in the pool.”

Nearly five hours later, after her son had been pronounced dead, Ross tweeted again.

“Remembering my million dollar baby,” she wrote. Ross included a photo of Bryson in the post, time-stamped at 11:08 p.m. A few minutes later, she posted another photo of her son.

Between the hours of 8:37 a.m. and 5:22 p.m (her first and last before son was found drowned in pool) she tweeted 74 times.

Seriously?  It just doesn’t make sense to me.  I would be distraught, perhaps catatonic.  I wouldn’t be tweeting, but perhaps the addiction is worse than we thought.  Perhaps tweeting is like any other addiction.  Too much of a possible thing.  Who cares that the fog was rolling in?  I bet 70% of the tweets were just words.  Words that maybe should stay inside our brains.  Why would you want to document every moment of your life via twitter?  I can see using it to be witty, but never to draw in the world because of tragedy showcasing neglect.

No parent is perfect.  I’ve taken my eyes off my son for more than a minute.  It doesn’t take long, but if you own a damn pool peope, 100% vigilence is mandatory.  You don’t play with the roosters and tweet on your phone and be the rockstar in your own blogosphere.  You live life where you ARE.  Not that you can’t have friends on the internet, but don’t lose sight of your priorities.  There is no difference with this than a mother doing ANYthing than doing what we are all as mothers are charged to do.  Protect your children at all costs.

“People who are attacking me are just trying to drive attention to their blogs,” the tweeting mother stated.

Really?  I don’t really need attention.  I have a full-time job and don’t depend or predict this blog would ever be anything more than it is.  The only one trying to gain attention here is the mother in my opinion.  I hope other mothers don’t gain an idea from this… even though it’s obvious this mother loved her son, her priorities were skewed.  I don’t post my real life name here or a pen name.  I just post my own thoughts for myself really.  One of those things as I’ve said in the past to read when I’m old.

Apparently she had told her older son to turn off the water to the pool or something and he didn’t shut the gate all the way.  How about some safety features to ensure the gate would close?  I would never trust another child regardless of age could understand the gravity of a 2 year old drowning and how fast it would be.  BUT, I would never turn my back for a second if I lived in a home with a pool.  If you are going to own a pool folks, you had better do everything in your power.

So yes, some may have attacked and she claims threatening her for being so callous, etc…  but long after this story has died (quickly I hope) Ms. Ross will forever live with the thoughts of not keeping her eyes on her toddler.  I know if an accident happened to my son, I wouldn’t want to live with what she will live with for the rest of her life.  It seems more genuine when someone else goes to bat FOR you to arrange for donations, etc…  Tweeting your own tragedy as it unfolds and the child is barely at the morgue is just too fast for my own taste.  This is my opinion only.  My feelings.

I don’t think she should be vilified for tweeting. She should be vilified for leaving her 2 year-old out of sight and hearing range long enough for him to drown in their own pool.

a phone call yesterday

I have a friend that I met when I met my hubby.  His husband used to work with my hubby.  She’s kept in relative touch over the years, plus they have season tickets to the NFL team here.  Our seats are next to each other… not that I ever go anymore.  Anyway, she gave me a call last night to just check up on us since she knows about the job hunt and the rest.

The rest always makes her laugh.  She told me my life is almost a sitcom.  Almost?  Hardly… it IS.  Let’s just go through a typical day in the life of B.

I get up usually around 5am.  I have to work at 6am on most weekdays and every other Saturday so that’s the typical alarm in my face time.  I usually hit snooze once.  Sometimes, I get up a minute before the alarm goes off.  That always freaks me out.  Lately I’ve been taking a doxylamine every night before I go to sleep.  What this does is prevent me from waking up do to racing thoughts.  No, I’m not bipolar or manic.  I just have some anxiety from time to time and pregnancy does exacerbate it quite a bit.  Family stuff really comes to the forefront or forebrain I should say especially around 1-3am.  I try to head it off at the pass with some good ole doxylamine or benadryl.  Either will do.  Not pregnant… it would be my favorite friend ambien.

I shower, dry my hair, and try to get ready for the day as if I was driving into an office, though I’m not.  I work from home in an office.  But, I pretend.

Around 5:45 am I carry my now 18 yr old dog down the stairs as the little one barks and I’m shhing him while my other 14 yo dog is bounding down the stairs one at a time stiff with arthritis.  I turn off the alarm, and take the dogs out.  I have to carry the old one into the yard or he’ll poop all over the sidewalk and driveway.  Yes, he needs to be put to sleep in the worst way but he’s technically not my dog.  He’s hubby’s dog.  It’s been time.

The day begins like that.  I herd them all out again around lunch.  Keep in mind two of them wear belly bands with costco diapers stuffed in them.  Hubby buys size 1-2 for the dogs and son gets his own size.  I have THREE in diapers.  WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS PICTURE?????

I’m to the point where I’m ready for hubby to take the dogs with him on a trip or put them somewhere else but here when he’s gone.  It’s too much for me to handle carrying my 30 lb dog, his 15 lb almost blind diaper wearing dog, and his 5 lb 8 yo (in other words, never will die and will live far past 20) who marks EVERYthing and is in diapers too.

It’s unreal.  Sad.  Funny.  All in one.

It’s a regular doggy nursing home here.  Nothing like the smell of my 14 yo dog who gets stuck in one place on the hardwood floor, walking in the house and being reminded of morning breath doggy style.  It’s just swell.  Especially pregnant

just thoughts. imagine that.

I have been thinking the past few days about what to write here… there’s always something in my brain I want to share, to remember.  But when I find the time to sit down and begin typing it out, I lose the thought and the idea, and I get quite frustrated.  I’m working today.  I don’t want to work today.  In fact I’m sitting here trying to figure out how I can waste the last 30 minutes of my shift.

I’m frustrated with myself because I peeked at her facebook.  My sibling’s wife.  There was a picture of him with a kid about the age of my son on his lap.  It still stung, but not as much as last year.  That’s good news, I guess?  I’m pissed because I’m sitting here alone.  Yes yes my son is here still asleep since the nanny has this trick of letting him sleep forever.  Keep in mind I heard him wake up and cry for about 2 minutes.  I think she was asleep too.  I guess he needs his sleep, but I’m irritated thinking he’s going to wake up high energy and yes… there ’s no husband coming home because he’s in Arkansas working today.  I hate his job.  I hate what I’ve become.  Lonely and eager to move.  I want a new start.  I’m itching for something new.

I’m frustrated that I feel a bit silenced on my blog about my pregnancy.  I don’t want to feel that way anymore.  My body and reproductiveness has nothing to do with anyone else’s.  We each have our own journey.  Hopefully this is my last journey and if this blog becomes a family blog and I discuss my kids, is that so bad?  So what.  I lose readers.  Big deal.  If they cared about me they’d hang around, if not…  then it was superficial anyway because we had something in common.  Hopefully everyone will get their baby(ies) they long for.  I truly believe it’s crap that someone who doesn’t want children can get pregnant and choose to terminate — thus I am in PRO LIFE — whereas the infertile or subfertile woman longs and longs and has her own journey.  And the journey can make or break you.  It can make you say things you wouldn’t say to someone you really love… I know I’ve made my share of slipups along the way.  The one big family bust at the moment (sibling) was during my third trimester, by the way.  I pretty much said what I thought with no filter.  It made for major ugliness that has never been reversed to this day.  I’ve just about given up on it, too… not because I don’t think he’ll come around at this point.  BUT because I don’t really want him to.

He emailed my mother a year or so ago and said, “I like the way things are with her.”  Talking about me.  I think I get that sentiment.  I like the way things are right now… well except when he found my family public blog and assumed a post in Jan 2009 was about him.  He’s crazy like that – so sensitive for a man really.  But it’s nice the way things are as long as he stays out of my life.  He tried to create some drama in November and yes I had some major braxton hicks over it… yelling at my father and mother (me) and asking them to leave my home because they wanted me to delete my entire public family blog over one post that after reading, my mother changed her mind and understood at that point what she was asking.  My father saying, “Who writes stuff on the internet anyway?  It’s stupid.”  Way to go, Dad.  Way to confirm that my sibling’s issues may have actually come from parenting as he claims.  I was just a casualty along the way.  Us vs. them.  I am on their side.  Or her side (his ex-wife) or anyone’s side which means I’m not on his side.

Hello.  We are 36 and 34.  Seriously?  Am I going to be blogging about this when I am 60?

I put up the tree last weekend.  That was fun.  I had to wait until my son was fast asleep and did a bang up job as the hubby packed his suitcase.  Have I ever said how much I hate his job?  Fingers crossed this week he hears from this new company two hours away with a job interview.  I’m ready to move.  I’m ready.  I’m ready.

Thanksgiving was great.  We stayed home… no 3.5 hour one way travel to hang out in a really run down duplex where my grandmother insists on living with my cousins and aunts/uncles.  There’s a big split in the family (imagine that) at the moment because their holy roller church has a child molester leading the music.  His uncle is the preacher and his daddy the main preacher.  He has molested 6 boys since being there and none of them will testify against him.  It’s sad.  I still see pictures of him up on the net on the church’s website just hanging out and having a big ole’ time.  You can imagine what I’d like to do to him since one of the victims is related to me.  I’m so angry about it.  I’m glad I didn’t go there to visit because one side of the family is still going to that crazy church.  So, you can imagine the other side with the victim is very crushed they refuse to leave with them and basically are diminishing the crime.  I’m sickened by my family on that side.  Completely sickened.

Oh yeah… keep in mind none of them have called me or traveled here to even meet my son.  The road goes both ways and I stopped trying.

Everything gets old after all.  All the energy spent on my sibling.  The energy to think about what to write.  The energy spent thinking about who loves you and who doesn’t.  It gets old.  I just want my husband walking through the door after work – which by the way would be in 30 minutes if he had a normal local job – and a family in that… and that alone.  In the end, the rest will die off and we’ll be left with each other after the kids are grown.  I don’t want to lose what we found on Day 1 because of the rest of life.  I love him.

Gotta finish this work thing.  9 more minutes.

let’s try this again…

I have tried at least ten times to write a meaningful blog post about my feelings. I looked up this evening after a long day (and alone of course with hubby on the road every week) and realized it was almost the last page of September 2009. I had a d&c on September 4th. It’s almost been a month. Holy cow. Literally just take time and the speed it felt 3 years ago and multiply that by 100. It’s crazy. I believe my cycle of emotions fly faster as well. I’ve been elated this week. I’ve been numb. I’ve been borderline angry.

At the moment I am frustrated with hubby. I’m tired of living in the house that he and ex-wife built. I’m tired of the once white carpet that was laid by them in 1997. It’s disgustingly not white now. I’m tired of the 18 yo shih-tzu that is miserable but hubby isn’t here enough to see his pain and realize that it really is time for him to leave the world and head over to the rainbow bridge. I’m tired of his other dog who is 8 and wears a diaper (the old one does too for that matter) because he marks everything.

I’m already tired of BBT and charting.

I’m laughing though because hubby’s desktop (actually mine in 2002) is dead after today. That makes me laugh.

I have had deep thoughts this month about God’s intent and what this means for me internally… It means that sin is in the world and things like this happen. I’m not saying I sinned and therefore miscarried. I’m saying God is sovereign but that He didn’t intervene. He has a different purpose for me with this. Who knows what… that is the 100.00 question. Actually I’d pay more to know.

Hopefully I will do better in October with this.

Little man’s baby book from blurb that I built came in today. It’s beautiful. A ton of pictures I printed from mpixpro came in today. Devine.

More, I promise. It’s already past my bedtime.

how the day unfolded…

It is always quite therapeutic, which I’m finding now in hindsight, to go back in time and to read how I handled the first loss in February 2007.  It seems as though it was forever ago in one sense, but in another not so much.  My first reaction was tears.  Terrified unexpected taken-by-surprise tears that welled up quickly when the ultrasound tech congratulated me that I was 5 weeks pregnant.  With all the obsessions of TTC back then, I knew the date and probably the hour I conceived.  The nurse pointed to her inaccurate due date wheel and said, “New Years’ Eve!”  I was sobbing.  Fighting.  Back.  Hysterical.  Tears.

I left with a prescription of progesterone in my hand and words echoing in my head from a doctor promising me we would try again right away!

I ended up with a second opinion, confirmation it was indeed a missed miscarriage, and that it was two embryos and not one.

Seven cycles later, I got pregnant with my son.

Fast forward to this incident.

I woke up Friday morning to log in to work as I do every Friday.  I had already commented to the hubby the week before that I thought something was wrong.  He shushed me almost as if it was bad luck to mention that something COULD be wrong.  I sat on the toilet awhile since progesterone in pregnancy tends to make me so constipated and couldn’t help but notice that my undies had a look about them as if they had once been stained and washed a thousand times… still with a faint stain.  I knew they weren’t stained the night before.  “Something is up.”  I talk to myself all the time anyway… I’ll admit it.  I washed my hands and checked my cervix.  Brown.

“Brown is good!”  I could already hear online buddies that would assure me.  I knew something was wrong.

I left a message on the office phone number crying about a miscarriage.  I knew I’d have to get hysterical to get in on a Friday prior to the holiday.  Not only that, I was going to have figure out how to handle work.  You see, it’s hard for us to leave unless we have someone backing us up.  I had already decided that it didn’t matter.  I was going to the doctor dang it.

Hubby woke up and sitter got here.  Nurse agreed to see me if I got there at 9am.

On the way in the song came on XM.  Casting Crowns, “Praise You in This Storm.”

And please… even if you don’t believe like me… the words really get me.  They did last time (it was THE song I wept to daily) and the song grabbed me on the drive in to the doctor’s office.  I knew it was God’s way of letting me know.  Here we go again.

I was sure by now
God You would have reached down
And wiped our tears away
Stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say “Amen”, and it’s still raining

As the thunder rolls
I barely hear Your whisper through the rain
“I’m with you”
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away

And I’ll praise You in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
And every tear I’ve cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm

I remember when
I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry to you
And you raised me up again
My strength is almost gone
How can I carry on
If I can’t find You

But as the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain
“I’m with you”
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away

I lift my eyes unto the hills
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord
The Maker of Heaven and Earth

Well anyway… six hours later I’m having another d&c. Spirits not as low though I think it’s one of those situations of delayed reaction. On the way to an ambien induced sleep where hopefully I don’t think about this for one more minute.

desperately seeking… a nanny

In the past 16 months I have learned a lot about myself in regards to feeling OK with someone else taking care of little man.  I immediately signed up with a couple of nanny services here locally where the fun began!  Every Tuesday and Thursday I would get to start completely over with a new nanny.  Remembering some of them:

• K – a sweet skinny young’in who tied the knot during the time she was nannying for us.  She felt he was too heavy and brought her own slings to carry him around.  Many times when I would sneak a peek at the two of them, it looked like this tiny waif of a girl holding a chubby baby.  So funny and cute.  She resigned after getting married because her husband wanted her to have a full-time job.  She’s also a singer in a band that is trying to make it big.  Very interesting.  I really liked her.
• J – she only was here twice.  The second time she informed me that little man was hot and that she gave him some tylenol.  Hello?  I’ve never showed you where the tylenol is, and I work from home… just ask me.  Normally young lady, I would take his temperature and dose appropriately.  Oh wait, you gave him meds to the second line?  Yeah, you overdosed him.  Way to go.  Phoned the service.  Do NOT send her back please!
• The British Nanny – I loved her.  She found something more full-time as well.  What a nice one!
• A – The one I have today who is leaving the state at the end of this month.  The very best by far, and I will miss her terribly.

With all that said, I decided to set out searching for the next caregiver for my son on Tuesdays and Thursdays while I work in the office from home.  I found a lady on Craigslist.  Can I say never never use Craigslist!

Anyway, I emailed a lady on Craigslist who sounded reasonable.  Older.  Responsibile.  Until we met in person and that image quickly converted to me thinking, “Um, yeah you won’t be watching my little man.”  It started out with her telling me that she had three references, one of which was her daughter but that it probably wasn’t a good idea to phone her daughter because they weren’t speaking right now.  Then she went on to tell me why… because her daughter stayed out all night the night before and the mother upon arriving at her daughter’s house to see her granddaughter proceeded to tell her daughter off for her all-night escapades.  I’m sitting in silence thinking… ok here’s a red flag.  She’s fiesty.  Secondly, if she’s telling me all this crap now imagine how much more she’ll be telling me in a week.

My mind immediately started trying to figure out how to get out of this one since she was already becoming pushy about me paying her in cash and no taxes involved though I explained that I would have to take out taxes this year “maybe;” I really wanted the opportunity to research it myself since I’d recently discovered I may have been doing it wrong.  She immediately rushes to quick judgment and begins explaining to me how it works and how at work I could take out pre-tax, yadda yadda yadda.  I told her yes, I could but that wouldn’t start until 2010.  It went on.

Then she proceeded with what she’d be doing with my son.  Taking him to the park most days… oh and in fact the park down the road is named after a young girl that she used to babysit.  On and on.  I was so uncomfortable.

At the end, “How do you feel about me?  I feel like home HERE.”

Yeah, I bet you do.  RUN!!!!

I ended up finding a sweet 65 year old lady who was a social worker in her career with lots of childcare references and background.  I’m happy I found her!  She starts September 1st.

crossing over… again

It is a strange feeling to realize that the experience you had before, perhaps an experience to help one appreciate the end result more, whatever you want to believe… isn’t the experience you will have the second time.  That is how life works.  It is a constant thing of change and surprises, joys and disappointments, and gain and loss.  I do enjoy the good changes, the joys, and the gains more than the rest.  I enjoy thinking that my past experience is a thing of the past… one can always hope.

This past June marks three years of the journey to begin a family… a big decision that shouldn’t be taken lightly.  A decision that changes the world, passes on the things of my life to their lives, etc…  It’s the hope of carrying on and on and on.  It’s been a wonderful three years.  It’s been a time of reflection, desperation, begging and pleading, and finally joy.  Now it has been the wonderful feeling of watching someone grow into a toddler.  We decided we wanted two children, or rather, we compromised in that I always said I wanted three boys (laugh), and so here we are again on the journey.

But, this time, the journey wasn’t as long.  I would say we went from the definition of infertile to definitely fertile in that we are pregnant again with another child and due within 7 days of our first’s due date.  What a rollercoaster of emotion.  I feel blessed.  I would say that I feel lucky, but I don’t believe in luck anymore.  It was only the second cycle of halfway “trying.”  My mind wasn’t on it constantly.  I dare to figure out why is it that last time was a longer thing?  I know that women going through IF hate the lists of why’s, but I can’t help in my own life try to figure out why it is this time was easier than the last.

• Maybe it’s that I’m 20 lbs lighter than the last time?  I’ve been on a healthy diet since January 2009 and am definitely at a perfect weight for my height.  I’m 135-137 lbs at 5′8″.  My cholesterol is healthy finally.  That’s a first in awhile.  My husband has lost 50 lbs and is about 184 lbs.  Healthy for both of us.  When we were trying before I was 158 lbs and he was over 210 lbs.  Could it be?
• Maybe the myth of having one child “fixes” you.  I still don’t believe it necessarily.  I mean if you had to do IVF the first time, odds are you will the second time.
• I would have been satisfied honestly if there were no more children in our life.  I was happy with one… quite blessed in fact and thought that if we have another, so be it.  I didn’t ride hubby’s butt about stopping riding his bicycle (a fertility no-no) or anything else I did last time.  What will be will be.  I know, relax relax… the one thing no one wants to hear.

What I do realize that my story does not translate to the thousands of couples fighting through infertility.  Everyone is different.  No two couples have the same issues.

I’m not freaking out like this last time either on this pregnancy.  Again, what will be will be.  I go in on tomorrow for a confirmation test where basically I waste my time and the doc’s time by peeing on another stick.  I have about 7 here I could bring and save them the test; however I know they want to bill my insurance for the cost of about 20 tests for just one.

Due date?  April 23/24.  I’m not 100% sure of what day I necessarily ovulated.  I am thinking July 31st.

lost

I have to admit that lately I tend to spend a lot of time alone.  I’m not truly alone because my son is around (14 mos now) but alone in my house.  My husband does travel quite a bit, much more than I thought originally when he took the job, but it is what it is.  I suppose I could be sitting here complaining away about him being unemployed.  That would definitely be worse. 

I am missing something in my marriage for awhile now.  Something that I somehow have to change or we will continue down this course that would lead to further alienation.  Last night I got the comment that I spend too much time on the internet and my new passion for photography.  I cannot win. 

Of course if you have found this blog and you know me, keep in mind that you are one of the only few to have this address.  I try not to publicize this and think many times that I should figure out a way to make this blog completely invisible so that I can just journal away.  I don’t really want some of my thoughts known, I don’t think.  But, then maybe sometimes I think that someone else has been there and might leave a comment that sort of rescues me, sort to speak.

Let’s talk about my sitcom of a life.  I’m sitting here right now in the same exact spot where I work for 35 hours a week.  I miss human contact and interaction.  I get bored.  I get distracted.  I surf the web sometimes when it gets so bad, but I find myself following the path on the web of just wasting more and more time.  I sit here and stare at a screen, even now, and I wonder what am I missing here in real life?  Is it really my fault that there is very little intimacy or touch in my marriage? 

I wrote a poem once when I was married before called “Last on the List.”  Sometimes I wish I could find that poem again because I bet that I feel the same as I did back then, which scares me.  Was it that he was really that bad of a husband or is it that I truly have intimacy issues and this is merely proof of a pattern? 

I don’t know.  I don’t know where to begin.  We love each other.  We are best friends. 

But, I’m tired of laying down at night and just laying there while the TV is on and he drifts off to sleep without even a touch or caress.  I feel utterly alone.  I refuse to initiate any more.  It’s not my job.  Is that part of the problem? 

Gosh, I’m sad right now.  And very lost on where to begin. 

Sometimes I wish I could just pack all my things and just escape for a long long time.

just thoughts today

I find myself at times really wanting to sit down with the laptop and just express all the thoughts I have during the day.  Thoughts of rushing to get things done.  Like now where my laundry is in the washing machine mildowy from not finishing what I started, a living room that I need to finish as far as getting some doors installed, and the current battle with the ants that have made a point of realizing a baby is in the house who drops crumbs everywhere.  Fun stuff!  I do mean this seriously.

What I am having a hard time with is the constant letting go from day one of bring my son home.  I have to let go of the baby who was 100% dependent on me to learning how to move around, including walking, and wanting to feed himself.  I notice that he seems to be able to self-feed to really be interested in food.  Every evening we have this ritual where he sits in his high chair and starts whining and throwing a fit about eating.  This is hard for someone like me who loves to eat more than just about anything.  I’ve squelched the appetite since January with the help of Weight Watchers, but I still love food.  Little man does not care for it.  Give him his sippy cup with whole milk, some fruit, and some puffs and he’s set.  I need to get another weight check done, but personally I believe he is gaining appropriately.  He’s getting heavier, no doubt.

Last night, little man wasn’t interested in nursing.  Wow.  I was crushed.  That’s the feelings I’m going through right now.  I do look forward to a return of myself.  BUT, I will miss this time.  I will miss this transition from baby to toddler as I already miss the baby that came home to me on April 15, 2008.  I miss the 3 month old who cooed.  I miss the 6 month old who could sit up.  I miss his gummy smile though I love all 8 of his teeth right now.  There are just so many things about this experience that have made me a better person.  I feel much more purpose in my life, and I’ve let go of a lot bitterness and negative issues in my life just from the sheer joy of a simple smile and the love I feel for a little boy that is more than I could have predicted.

Connecting with my husband is still a challenge.  He’s out-of-town all the time.  I’m alone with Little Man a lot.  I just sit here and play with him and as I said, rarely get anything done.

My job schedule is changing in the next month to every fourth weekend.  We’ll totally have more connection soon.