High On Love

I used to think those people who were all gooshy about their kids and talked about them being everyday miracles and such were sooo freaking cheesy.

Ha. That was before I became a mom.

Holy schnike balls this oxytocin stuff is f'ing amazing.

I am crazy in love with my kid. Head over heels, you jump I jump, come what may kinda love.

Not to say he doesn't drive me up the walls some times. He's taught me that whining isn't learned it's inherent. How I hate the whining!

But...the sound of his voice, his mischievous grins, his waddly walk and crazy nudist tendencies....heck, even the way he hugs all over the dog but refuses to give me a kiss when asked (cause it's evidence of that will, like a furious little flame beaconing the person he will eventually become) makes me all smushy inside and I find myself smiling and weeping, sometimes at random.

Is it like this for everyone?

I think if I were ever able to forgive Connor's sperm donor dad for walking out on his son it would be because I feel pity for him. He's missing out on all the good stuff. This wonderful, amazing, charming, sweet, stubborn, infuriating little boy.

Connor's Busted Brow

I got the call right as I was about to leave work. I didn't recognize the number, so I didn't answer right away. Decided to wait till I was leaving the building. As I walked to the car I listened to the messages...it was the owner of the daycare calling from her personal phone. At first I thought she was calling to tell me I was going to have to pay a late fee for paying a day late. On the 2nd message she left, she told me to call back right away. Not a money thing then.

Immediately a million terrible possibilities were floating through my mind, but the voice message didn't sound scared or panicked so I took a deep breath and told myself it was going to be ok. I called back and she told me that Connor'd had a little accident and cut his head open a little. She said it was just a small gash and wasn't even bleeding anymore. No big deal, right? I drove to pick him up as usual, thinking he'd have a bump and a scratch and they were just calling to cover their butts.

When I got there he was asleep in Odessa's (the primary caregiver in his room) lap. She held a bag of ice on his forehead. I walked over to her and she didn't want to show me. I told her to let me see it, and she did, reluctantly.






I tried not to react too much when I saw the gash on his head. I picked him up and he flopped on my shoulder, not wanting to wake up. That scared me. Aren't you supposed to keep someone awake when they've had a head injury? He eventually stirred and I took him out, trying to decide what to do. The pediatrician was closed, but I wasn't sure his injury was hospital worthy. I took him to my sister to have her look at it. On the way I called the 24-hour pediatrician's line. The nurse said take him to Urgent Care, my sis said he might could just get by with a butterfly bandage.

Decided on Urgent Care. I discovered when I had driven all the way back to my street that my Urgent Care doesn't see children under 2. They told me I would have to go to the hospital. Fortunately, the women behind me told me that there was an Urgent Care just for children not too far from where I was, so we went there.

Along the way I started updating Facebook. It didn't take long for Van to call me and had a little "Come to Jesus" meeting with me about letting her find out that Connor was hurt via Facebook. In retrospect, not the best thing. I wasn't thinking entirely clearly at the time, though.

When I got to the Urgent Care I saw a sign that said to expect a 2 1/2 hour wait...it wasn't kidding. We were there about half an hour when they brought Connor back to put numbing cream on his head. They didn't tell me WHY they were doing it, I had to ask. He was going to need stitches. I was a little put out by the fact that no one had officially inspected him before they had determined he would need stitches. The "examination" that determined this happened across a desk while I was signing in. Ah well, it was pretty obvious to me that he needed SOMETHING.



After the numbing cream was on, Connor really perked up. He ran around the entire room yelling AAAAAAEEEE! Not really screaming so much as vocalizing loudly. I didn't want to be one of those moms with the wild kid, but I knew if I tried to restrain him he would have a full-blown tantrum and I didn't want to risk him hurting himself more, or get him all upset before he had someone sewing on his face. I let him roam. I just followed him around and tried to keep him from poking strangers or stealing their bottles. (he likes to take other children's bottles and pacifiers)

Van soon arrived like a wonderful angel bearing food and a toy for Connor. They told me at first that he could eat but then they said he couldn't. Poor kid could smell the food and was ravenous, but I couldn't let him have any. It was sad.

They called us back a 2nd time and gave Connor a sedative. They said it would take 20 minutes to kick in fully. Why didn't they give him that when they gave him the numbing cream? Who knows? It didn't take long for the sedative to kick in. In minutes he was wobbly, and then he was so woozy he couldn't sit up with his toy. He just flopped over and played with it lying down.



At one point when I was holding him he flopped his head back, looked up into my face with bleary eyes and laughed. He was soooo stoned! I could almost hear him saying "I LOVE you man!"

Finally they called us back for stitches. They wrapped him up tight in a big papoose. Stoned or not he did NOT like that. He screamed his frustration loudly. They let me help hold him and covered all but the wound with a sterile blanket. They told me I could sing to him, so I did.

This was a mistake.

I am usually pretty good in a crisis. I just turn of emotions and deal with the situation and save reaction until later. I was able to endure 45 grueling minutes of my son's agonized screams while they poked him over and over again trying to find a vein for an IV. I watch BOTH lumbar punctures. If he's been through it, I've been there, and I kept cool and calm the entire time. I was able to do this because I was in detached "crisis" mode. When I started singing to him I clicked into "mommy" mode. I couldn't help it. Mommy is NOT cool, calm, and collected. Why they sewed him up he screamed in frustration cause he was being held immobile and they were touching his face. He HATES that. He was NOT, however, crying.

I can not say as much for myself. Tears were streaming down my face why they sewed him and it was all I could do to keep from sobbing outright. I couldn't help but think about how small and fragile he is...and it killed me that he was hurt. Urgh. Emotional stuff!

We got through it though. Three whole stitches!



When I got him home he ate like a horse and conked out almost immediately. A much deserved rest.

It took me a little longer to get to sleep. I kept thinking about how we're all basically just pillowcases full of guts and how fragile life really is. You know, upbeat, happy stuff.

Eventually I was able to sleep. It wasn't an easy sleep though.

When fate gave me a boy I knew I probably would have to see him get stitched up at least once....I just never thought it would be before his 2nd birthday!

My Little Empathizer

Last night I had a moment where the weight of the things I have been dealing with lately slammed into me with the delicacy of a drunk hippo, and before I could stop myself, I burst into tears. Not quiet, respectable tears. Oh, no. The kind of embarrassingly loud sobs that cause the neighbors to poke their heads in to see what's wrong.

Connor's head snapped up at the sudden sound. He dropped his new favorite toy (a silicone spatula). He thought I was laughing at first, and he started to laugh too...but then either my expression or the fact that I was frantically rubbing the tears off my face clued him in to the fact that I was crying. He started to cry too. He stood up and toddled over to me and hugged my legs, laying his head in my lap. I picked him up and instead of trying to wriggle away as he usually does, he snuggled into my arms and clung to my shirt. That just set me off more, although now I was crying for a different reason. He whimpered along with me until I finally got it all under control and set him down again. In a few minutes we were both laughing at Luna's antics as she frantically chased the ball I was throwing for her.

Oh Connor, when it is all too much, you remind me of why I keep going. I love you little man.

Baby Steps

Connor, my darling little baby will soon be a baby no more. Those timid first steps are moments away. Will it be tomorrow? Next week? Next month? I'm not really sure but I know it will be soon. He's actually taken a few half-steps. He'll be standing up and see something interesting and move in that direction...but then he realizes what he is doing and plops to the ground. It is a good thing he's wearing a diaper for extra padding!

His new trick is kissing mommy on request. I'll present him my cheek and say "gimme kiss!" and he'll grab my head and press his wide open mouth to my face. He hasn't QUITE grasped the concept of close-mouthed kisses but I don't mind really. I just keep a towel handy.

Last night was one of those moments where I wanted a camera but nothing was handy. He was pulling clothes out of my laundry basket when his paci fell in. "uh oh!" I cried. He reached and reaaaaached and finally retrieved it. He held it up to me with a triumphant expression on his face. "Yay!" I exclaimed, clapping. "Yay!" He smiled micheviously and threw the paci back into the laundry basket. "uh oh!" I repeated....he fished it out again and basked in my praise. A moment later, he tossed the paci in again. This time he threw it too hard and it fell to the other side of the basket where he couldn't reach. My heart soon swelled with "My baby is SO smart!" pride when he edged around the basket till he was on the other side so he could get to his paci.

This went on for a few minutes until, oh no! The paci fell right in the middle and he couldn't reach it from any angle. He tried tipping the basket towards him. He reached and grunted and reeaaached and grunted but he just couldn't get it. He finally gave up and decided to play with his pull elephant.

It sounds stupid and sappy, but I fall a little bit more in love with him every day.

What?!

Since he's been born Connor has been held and/or rocked to sleep after his evening bottle. Even though recently I have been leaving him in his crib to cry it out if he woke up when I put him down, I always made sure he was asleep first.

Last night bed time was a struggle. Usually he is in a half-stupor after his bottle. He fights being burped because he wants to lay down and go to sleep. This time, though, he was wide awake. He tried laying down, but it was like he couldn't sleep. He would close his eyes and I thought he was drifting off but after a minute or two he would whine and cry and throw himself about in frustration. He tried on his belly, on his back, snuggled under my arm. I tried rocking, singing, and reading. Nothing worked. I even let him sit up next to me and watch a little tv.

An hour and a half after his bed time I'd had enough. I decided to put him in his crib and deal with the inevitable tears. I took him to his room and laid him down. He sighed and curled up in a little ball. Shocked, I fled the room as quietly as possible, expecting woeful wails to follow me out the door. Nothing but silence. Minutes later he still wasn't crying. I listened at the door. He was asleep!

Is it possible he's outgrown being rocked to sleep? I'll try putting him in his crib while he is in his post-bottle torpor tonight and see what happens.

....I can't believe I'm saying this, because I have been thrilled with every development that has made Connor more independent, but I think I might actually MISS my evenings holding my sleeping child.

The other day I was kissing all over his face and he pushed me away with a very distinctive sound of annoyance.

Already, Connor?

...one thing for certain, suddenly having a baby who no longer wants constant cuddling isn't giving me the insane urge to have another one. I may miss it, but there are sooo many things I won't miss. Like formula.

I JUST BOUGHT THE LAST TWO CANS OF FORMULA I WILL EVER NEED!!

Yep! By the time my Jumbo Costco cans of formula run out, Connor will be a year old and I can switch him fully to whole milk. I am a little intimidated by the change. It means that most his nutrients are going to come from the food I feed him.

I was reading the other day about how important proper nutrition is for brain development. There was a time when it was a parent's job to keep their babies healthy and alive and just raise them up with proper ethics and behavior. Now its almost as if we're expected to do everything in our power to raise little prodigies. Maybe it is unrealistic pressure from the media and companies that want us to buy their products, but it is HARD not to buy into it. Doesn't EVERY parent want what is best for their child? If there is a food, a product, a toy that can help them develop into healthier, smarter, happier people how could you NOT want it? It is hard to know when to draw the line.

I do the best I can, but is it possible to ever do enough?

Connor, Please Stop Trying To Die On Me

At nine months the fear of SIDS had almost evaporated.  Connor can roll proficiently in both directions, he can crawl and stand.  I didn't really worry about him suffocating in his crib.  I still use breathable bumpers and a breathable blanket just in case, though, because I don't like to take chances...and the Angel Care BeBe Infant Monitor.   It detects the minute movements of his breathing through the crib mattress.  If there has been no movement for 20 seconds, the alarm sounds.

I purchased it after I had to turn back in the respiratory monitor the hospital gave me after those reflux events where he stopped breathing on me

In the 5 months that I have had the monitor the only alarm I have had was when I took Connor out of his crib and forgot to turn it off.  Until this morning.

I was already awake.  I woke up at 5am and my brain didn't want to leave me alone enough so that I could go back to sleep.  I was lying in bed trying to ignore my obnoxious thoughts when I heard a beep.  It was the 15 second warning beep.  I wasn't sure what I was hearing until the full alarm went off.

I leaped out of bed and ran into Connor's room.  I snapped on the light.  He was laying face down as usual.  In a moment I was at his bedside.  I could tell he wasn't breathing.  I picked him up, his body was completely limp.  As I turned him over he took in a deep, gasping breath.  

I discovered his pacifier lodged deep in the folds under his neck.  I had to pry it loose from his skin.  I can only imagine that when he was laying on top of it, the pressure of his body caused it to press against his windpipe, cutting off his air.

I held Connor to me for a long time and just felt him breathing.  I looked down at him to see if he was awake.  His dark, liquid eyes were staring up at me placidly.  When I met his gaze he smiled.

I don't know why Connor had slept so heavily that he didn't wake up when he stopped breathing...maybe it was because he had gotten his 9 month immunizations only hours earlier.  I do believe the Angel Care BeBe Infant Monitor saved my child's life.  I need to write them a thank you letter.

How Much Is Too Much?

My sister and I were discussing Kayleigh's story and she asked me:  "How much is too much?  How much money is too much to spend? How many surgeries are too many?  When do you say enough is enough?"

At the time I shrugged my shoulders.  I didn't have my answer until later, when I held my sleeping child, marvelling at how sweet and beautiful his sleeping face was to me.

The simple answer is that there is that too much does not exist when your child is concerned.  I would willingly drive myself into a debt I could not possibly recover from for Connor.  I would work as many jobs as I had to...and if that was not enough I would beg, lie, even steal if that was the only way that I could obtain the means to save his life.   

Even though I don't believe that prayer works, I am not ashamed to ask for prayers, or even animal sacrifice for his benefit just on the OFF chance that there could be some positive result.

As for what I would be willing to put him through physically and emotionally...I don't have an answer to that question and I desperately hope I never have to face it.  I would urge him to fight as much as he had the capacity to fight.  He is strong and stubborn and I know it would take a lot before I was willing to let him give up.

It is hard...and yet it is easy.  When your child is first put into your arms you know that the tiny person you're holding is bigger than you....and there is nothing you wouldn't do for them.  If you have someone in your life that you would die for, kill for....how could it be possible that ANYTHING would be too much?