Tru was so tired but he couldn’t fall asleep. He cried and kept pointing to the front door. It was the first sunny, warm day in a long time and he wanted out. (I still bundled him to be on the safe side.) Once in his stroller he calmed and enjoyed the ride. The sun on his face. The wind in his hair. (oops…I mean toboggan.) The birds singing to us. The next thing I know, he’s not moving. I peek around and he’s fast asleep!
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Tru is drinking more water and now he can help himself. If only I could get him to use his sippy cup! The word “no” means “go for it” in Tru language. He has wicked fun.
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Tru is earning his allowance. He will run it until the battery dies!
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It’s been a year dad, but I will never forget. I will never forget the phone call asking me to drive up for a baby shower. Everyone was coming here to surprise me, but you were sick, recovering at The Summit and couldn’t make the trip. I will never forget leaving that Friday, no idea you’d be leaving Saturday. I pulled into the parking lot and walked down the hall to your room. I knew I felt anxious, but I didn’t know why. I walked in and saw you sitting in your wheelchair. Head down, fast asleep. I didn’t want to wake you, but mom said to because you had slept all day. I will never forget how you looked up at me when she shook you awake. You kinda smiled, a sweet smile, as best you could. I said “Hey Dad” but you didn’t say anything. Too weak for words, but that’s ok. I leaned down to hug you. I will never forget how you put your arms around me and squeezed tight. For a man so weak, you felt strong. It felt like you hugged me for hours. My cheek pressed to yours. My eyes watered. I knew it was different. I will never forget how everyone in the room was crying when I stood up. They told me you hadn’t been able to lift your arm all day. I talked to you, laughed with you and you winked at me. You always winked at me. I will never forget how you looked at the ultrasound picture of Tru…your grandson. You stared. I pointed to my belly and told you that was my baby and you smiled. I will never forget how you looked at me that night when I told you bye. Were you trying to tell me something? Did you know you were dying? I told you I’d see you in the morning and you stared at me. You made a sound. I leaned in and asked what you wanted, if you were alright. You stared. I called mom back into the room and told her you were saying something, but you just stared. I kissed you one more time. I will never forget the phone call the next morning telling us you weren’t waking up. I was trying to decide which top to wear for the baby shower and suddenly it didn’t matter. We rushed out the door. The drive felt so long and the walk down the hall seemed like miles. I will never forget seeing you laying in the bed. Still and pale. The only sound was your breathing. I stood by your bed all day watching you and rubbing your head. You loved to have your head rubbed. I will never forget how badly I wanted you to open your eyes, but you didn’t. You just breathed. I will never forget that night as we all stood in your room and your breathing slowed and became farther and farther apart. I will never forget how your skin felt cold and started to turn a soft shade of blue. I felt my insides shaking. My body trembling. My palms were sweating and I couldn’t swallow. I will never forget how I worried about Tru. Could he feel my heart racing? Were my muscles tightening in on him? Squeezing him? I couldn’t bare another second. I will never forget how I walked to your bed and whispered in your ear what a wonderful dad you were and how much I loved you. How much I would always love you. I thanked you for everything you’d done for me and I stepped out the door. I think you understood. You were always a private person like me. I will never forget seconds later when I heard everyone in the room cry out. I cried too. I will never forget.
I like the number 10. I wish things were in increments of 10, so I’m celebrating your 10 month birthday. It has been an unbelievable 10 months. You have grown and changed so fast. I remember the night I felt you making your way out of me. It was 2 a.m. and your dad had just crawled into bed after cleaning his warehouse with your Aunt Donna. I told him I thought you were coming. I laid in bed and counted the minutes between contractions. I was so hoping I was right. I was so ready to meet you. I loved being pregnant with you…feeling you grow, feeling you move, just having you in my belly. I would read books to you, talk to you, play music for you, rub my belly and hope you’d feel my touch. Get to know my touch. As much as I loved knowing that I was growing something and giving life to something, I was ready to hold you in my arms. So, when another contraction came, I quick nudged your dad and said I was sure you were coming. We were very calm and quiet. I remember riding in the car thinking the next time I rode in the car, I’d be going home with you. The next hours seemed to happen in slow-motion. I think I slept. I can’t remember, but at 7 a.m. you must have laid on a nerve. I bolted out of bed and for the next 2 hours I couldn’t relax a muscle, couldn’t catch my breath, couldn’t be still, but because of monitors I had to stay in the bed. I couldn’t find relief. I cried. I squirmed. I begged for an epidural. The guy came in at 9 a.m. with it. I was screaming and all but climbing the walls. Within seconds my entire body went limp. I was able to lay back and be peaceful for you. The next thing I know I’m being told to push. I push and push and push and finally (3 hours later) you’re in front of me. Right before my eyes. I can’t focus. Everything is blurry, but I know it’s you. Beautiful you. I watch as they clean you. I want you in my arms. I’m patient. Remembering to breathe. Long deep breaths. Finally, I’m holding you. It was like I already knew you. Warm. Soft. Tiny. Beautiful. I can’t believe I made you. I’m in awe of you. I rub my fingers across your cheeks. Up and down your perfect little nose. I shield the light from your eyes because it’s making you mad. I feel my heart grow. I feel my chest swell. I feel like I’m going to burst. I don’t let go of you. I hold you and look at you all night long. You’ve been inside me for 9 months; I’m not ready for you to be anywhere that’s not attached to me. So we lay together. For at least 2 weeks I don’t sleep. Too scared to close my eyes. Now you’re out in the world and not protected by the womb. I want to protect you. Every day I talk to you and sing to you and you cast a spell over me. I look at you and cry and laugh at the same time because I’m happier than I’ve ever dreamed possible. I whisper to you and you look at me like you are studying me. I’m a thinker too. Soon, we’ll look and study things together. Figure things out. I wonder what you are thinking. What secrets do you have? Our days are spent with me being amazed by everything you do. I love the little sounds you make when you sleep. I love your little grin. I love the tickle of your soft hair as I rub my cheeks across your head. I love the velvety feel of the bottoms of your feet and how you try to curl your toes around my finger.
My favorite time is holding you next to me as you drift off to sleep. I do it every night. I should put you in your crib, but I don’t want to. You’ll be big soon and I won’t be able to hold you. I love this time together. Your head on my shoulder. Your eyes close shut. I feel you breathe soft and slow. We are peaceful and you slip into a dream. I wish I could go with you. I hold you a little longer just because I want to remember this moment. I feel sad as I walk away from your crib. When you wake in the middle of the night for a bottle, I know I get a few more minutes with you before I have to go to work. It’s you and me while the rest of the world sleeps. You are my world. Your crib is still by my bed. I like it there. I guess I just still want you as close to me as possible. I love being able to open my eyes and you are right there. I peek over and look at you while you sleep and I smile. I want to touch you, but you are so peaceful. My dreaming boy. One day you’ll want your own room and you’ll close your door. You won’t want mom peeking in on you.
You are my thoughts and my dreams. At work, I have pictures of you all over the room because I want to be able to see you no matter where I am. I talk about you to everyone who will listen. I rush home to get you. You are my heartbeat. You are my smile. When I was sick I sat down and started to cry because I was tired of coughing and sneezing and blowing my nose. You rolled up in your walker and looked at me very serious, as if concerned. I immediately started laughing and so did you. Your happiness means so much more than mine does. My life means more now because of you. It’s been 10 months, but I feel like I’ve had you forever. I can’t remember a time without you. You are my memories and you are my future.
I love you.
Mommy
This is so weird, but for some reason when you become a mom, you get super powers. I’m serious. You can do things you never could before. It happens and then you think, Oh my gosh…I can’t believe myself. Let me give you an example.
I’m terrified of spiders. Completely terrified. I can hardly look at a book with photographs of spiders in it. I had one, a teeny-tiny one, in my classroom one day and ran across the hall to have another teacher come over and kill it. I call my husband from whatever he is doing to kill a spider and if he can’t come, I throw a bowl over it until he can get there. I can’t kill a spider. Are you crazy? It might attack me or something. It might jump on me and never let go.
Well, tonight as I walked to the bedroom to feed Tru…I saw one right along the doorway. This thing was huge and I’m not exaggerating. It looked like an art installation hanging on the wall. I froze. I looked around. I uttered some strange noises that made Tru look at me funny. I started some weird little two-step in the hallway trying to figure out what to do. I ran to my phone and texted Grant. Ran back to make sure the spider was still there. Ran back to the phone and saw no response. Called Grant and explained the emergency, which he didn’t get at all. So there I was – alone, holding Tru in one arm, a bottle in the other and a big ass spider in my hallway. My mind raced. I walked back down the hall and it was moving. MOVING!! That’s it. I knew what I must do. I grabbed the biggest shoe Grant has, plopped Tru in his crib, flung my cape over my shoulder and off I went. My palms were sweating, but my mind was steady. Steady on my target. Something came over me. I felt a strength building inside I’ve never felt before. I had to kill this spider because all I could envision was it crawling on Tru while he slept and that won’t happen. I bit down on my lip, pulled back, and splat. Then I went back to my baby waiting in his crib and all is peaceful once again. (WARNING: photo of spider below)
On our quest for the perfect popsicle we may have just hit the jackpot! My mother-in-law thought about trying a small ice tray. Voila! We now have bite-size pieces, perfect for tiny hands. Tru can manage the little cubes more easily and it doesn’t melt before he can get it in his mouth. Our latest creation – banana/blueberry/pear.
Waking up and being able to stay home with Tru is such a great feeling. We play and roam around the house in our pjs. No where to be. No schedule to worry about. This is our time. Time to be free. Time to explore. Time to have fun and Tru leads the way. I don’t care when I shower or even brush my teeth! (I do that whenever Tru naps.) If we venture out, I pull on my Uggs, which Grant says is short for “ugly”, appropriate for this situation, and off we go. No rules. No fuss. Just kicking it with my boy!
Okay, I was a naughty girl today. I left work early. Yep, took off and left half day. Why? I was tired. Not just a little tired, but I-can’t-hold-my-eyes-open-to-drive tired. Let me put this in perspective for you. Tru has been going to bed around 6. Yeah, that sounds all good, but when I work all day I want to see him in the evening and I can’t go to bed that early. I still have something called dinner to fix and eat and clean up. So, I’m hitting the sack at my regular time, but here’s the kicker…Tru’s been waking up around 4. 4! I can barely stand at 4 in the morning, much less take care of baby. He has a bottle and soon goes back to sleep. That’s nice, except I’ve been left with maybe 5 minutes to lay horizontal before my alarm goes off. A day of this is not too bad, but a whole week is wearing on me. This morning, in particular, was when I drew the line. I caught myself making deals with Tru as he lay on my shoulder. It was 4:30 and I was begging him to go ahead and go to sleep because that would leave me a whole hour to sleep. As soon as I thought he was out, I gently laid him in his crib and tippy-toed to bed. Ahhh, it was sooo soft. As soon as I got the covers right, he was looking over the rail at me. Back up. I walk. He sleeps…on my shoulder. I put him in his crib. I get in bed. He wakes up. This pattern went on for a while. I finally decided to give in. I sat in the rocker with him sound asleep. At 5:26 I put him in his crib and he slept…like a baby. 5:30 – alarm. Shower. Work. Oh yeah, work. How can I manage 20 second graders? I can’t. I take a half day! Once home, I slept a little over an hour, but it was the best and the deepest sleep I’ve had in months. The kind of sleep when you wake up and you don’t know what time it is or what day it is because you feel like you’ve been asleep for weeks. Yeah, good ol sleep. Well, you might be wondering why I’m not sleeping now. It’s 9:30. Tru’s peacefully sleeping in his crib. Bob Marley plays in the background. Byte, my dog, is asleep on the floor beside me. The house is still and dark…and I’m awake. Wide awake. Stupid nap!