I Changed Five Years Ago. . .

I was heavily pregnant five years ago.  My son had inexplicably turned breech right at the very end of that text-book easy pregnancy.  My dream of natural, drug-free vaginal birth was in jeopardy and I was suddenly facing the possibility of a c-section.  Sure, plenty of women have had breech vaginal deliveries. . .but that wasn't what ended up happening with my delivery.

I can still remember the day that I was lying on the couch in the living room and my abdomen began to resemble that famously gross scene from the movie Alien.  I could not believe the movement that was going on inside my body.  It was creepy to watch, somewhat painful to feel, and I ended up feeling beat up on the inside.  At my next appointment, my doctor was startled to discover that my baby had found a way to turn breech.  His expression was one of pure shock and he spat out, "Is that your baby's head?!"  Why, yes, yes it was his head. . .suddenly lodged up near my breastbone.

My doctor attempted to turn the baby in his office.  I believe he truly tried to flip that baby and can say that it was very uncomfortable from a physical standpoint.  Being so very near the end of pregnancy and so full of baby in my belly. . .ugh, it really kinda sucked and I was so upset that the baby was not turning even with a grown man pushing full force on my abdomen.  I'd be 39-weeks on the weekend and he was scheduled at the hospital that Saturday so he told me to come to L & D so he could try to turn baby there.  The reasoning was that we could head directly to the OR for a c-section if anything truly distressing happened to the baby while he was attempting to flip the baby. 

On this night five years ago, I prayed fervent prayers.  I prayed for my baby to turn, for me to avoid a surgery, for all to work out according to my wishes.  Well. . .my baby did not turn, I did not avoid a surgery, but it ultimately did work out. 

My amniotic fluid was low enough at that point that attempting the version was not on the table.  My doctor said that he was there, I was there, I was at term, and the baby was breech.  He offered the c-section right then if I wanted it.  I burst out that I thought he'd flip my baby back down and I'd have a vaginal birth and that I thought my delivery would be what I wanted.  I realize now that he & my husband exchanged a look (confirmed by speaking with my husband) and I think both of them thought I knew I was walking into that hospital for a c-section that day. 

I did not know. 

I was so thrown for a loop that I actually left my shoes in that L & D room and walked off without ever finding them again.  It was many many hours before my surgery was actually performed.  Hours that I spent feeling uncomfortably hungry and thirsty.  Oh, man, I have NEVER felt so thirsty.  Starting the IV helped a little, but my mouth positively ached for liquid refreshment.

I was there for over eight hours. . .waiting for the surgery that I did not want. . .hoping that I could somehow avoid this (in my view) unnecessary surgery. . .praying that I could keep the baby in for one more week so that my mother could be near me. 

My in-laws were there nearly the entire time. . .I remember my mother-in-law sitting in that room with me, trying to keep my mind off my anxiety and fears, being a solid rock of support for me.  It's a kindness that I can never repay.

At some point I inquired if it wasn't time for my doctor to go home and if that meant I'd get to go on home too.  The L & D nurse was a treat, so very well suited to the job, and she let me know that if my doctor said he'd be there for my surgery that he absolutely would not be leaving until I was stable in recovery no matter how many more "emergency" c-sections showed up.  I still remember that nurse by name and she is one who I made sure to give a special gift to weeks later when I was up for returning to the hospital with my new babe.

I had never been admitted into a hospital prior to this birth.  I'd never had a major surgery.  I'd never delivered a baby.  To say I was anxious would be an understatement.  I was scared to death. 

It was a day of firsts.  It was a day that I held my heart - outside of my own body.  The first time that I was able to hold a child of mine.

The surgery was perfect and looking back it was as good as could be hoped for in a surgical delivery.  The recovery sucked and I didn't see my new baby for two hours as I desperately tried to move my legs enough while in recovery to be sent up to my room to be reunited with my baby.  There are only three or four post-op photos of me holding my first son while we were in the hospital.  One that painfully tugs at my heart is one where I was on the phone with my mother who was 3,000 miles away and I was crying while holding the phone and cradling my new baby for the first time.

So much has changed in these five years and I can say that it has flown by in the blink of an eye.  I can't believe that the baby who nuzzled at my awkward breast is now a five-year old who is on the cusp of Kindergarten.  I should have cherished those fleeting early baby days. . .those impossibly exhausting early baby days.  They will never return that that boy will only continue to grow and mature. 

What do I hope for my dear first son?  I hope that he keeps his kind and loving heart.  He is so sweet and empathetic.  I hope that his spirit is free when it can be, but that he learns when it's advisable to reign in his head-strong nature.  I hope that he remains a fundamentally good human being.  I hope that he finds a special someone who appreciates and admires him for who he is and that his spouse is a generously loving helper who isn't emotionally wounded.  I hope for the best for my dear boy. . .he's smart and can be so charming.  My darling son. . .I love that boy so much that words fail.

So much has changed in the last five years.  I earned a new title:  Mother.  I know there are times that I miserably fail, but I do aim to bring honor and respect to that title.  I became responsible for a human being who needs me to grow and thrive. . .who needs my guidance to learn how to thrive and succeed in society.  I really can not believe my son is now five years old.  It honestly does feel like it was only yesterday that I first held that beautiful baby with the dimpled chin.  Only yesterday that I put my nose in his hair and nearly wept over the joy of his smell.  Only yesterday that this newest chapter of my life began.  I was living before. . .but I was finally alive.

Motherhood. . .Sooo Gross!

My baby has been cutting the same teeth since around Thanksgiving.  He's been drooly, pukey, weepy, clingy, and screamy.  He's demanded snuggles, cuddles, nursie, and chewie toys.  One tiny tooth finally started peeking from his pink gums a couple of weeks ago.  I took a breath and enjoyed having my sweet & happy baby back again.

Then the molars started erupting.  His upper left gum gave the first indication of what was to come when I noticed one night that it was swollen and black.  My first thought was that the poor little guy had a rotten tooth before it even showed up.  No, he had an eruption hematoma.  It looked terrible, within a week, he had another one show up on his lower right gum.  I have never seen gums nearly this swollen and it was painful just to look at it so I really felt for my baby.

I've tried everything to relieve the poor child's pain and nothing really works for long.  The only thing that seems to make him happy for very long is to be cradled and nursed.  So I've done a lot of that in the last few weeks to get the kid through this tough time. 

Those molars finally started appearing and I was looking forward to getting my sweet baby back.  I probably would have, but he caught a little cold.  Or, at least, I think it's possible that he has a cold.  He tends to get a runny nose when teeth are coming, but it normally only lasts a couple of days.  He's had a runny nose now for several days and it doesn't seem to be improving. 

Teething and a cold. . .just the ticket to getting a good night of sleep!  Yeah, no, it pretty much is guaranteed that I won't sleep tonight any more than I have the last three nights.  The upside is that I can doze a little while he's tucked in bed and nursing.  The downside is that I have a bitey baby in bed with my breast in his mouth.  Babies don't use their teeth at all when actively nursing, but he tends to clamp down as he drifts off to sleep.  That's right, I've ended up with bleeding nipples a time or two this week.  Yeouch!

So bleeding nipples and two eruption hematomas are gross enough, but it's nowhere near the zenith of grossness.  You might even think that it doesn't even warrant a blog post whining about the grossness of motherhood.  Keep reading you sickos.

One of the things that is most amazing about breastfeeding is that the body will produce antibodies in response to what the mother is exposed to and this helps strengthen the immune system of the breastfed child.  It is one of the reasons that breastfed children tend to not get ill as frequently as their formula fed counterparts.  With this in mind, I frequently kiss my kids.  Well, I'd kiss them anyway, but I make sure to up the kissy-kissy stuff when anyone in the family is feeling poorly so that baby can get the maximum benefit. 

I fed my baby some chicken dinosaurs for lunch earlier this week.  Yeah, yeah, I fed my baby chicken dinosaurs - go ahead and judge.  They take less than a minute and he eagerly eats them.  Heck, even I like them and I generally hate kiddie fare.  I suspect that the secret ingredient is crack.  There is  no secret ingredient?  Well, damn, I just like crappy chicken dinosaurs!

So baby has had a runny nose and I've been all kissy monster on him lately because I want to help him fight whatever he's fighting.  Or he just has a runny nose from teething and I don't need to kiss his sticky little face.  I'll stick with kissing. . .but I'll make sure from here on out to really look where I'm planting my pucker. 

I kissed his cheek after lunch and something ended up in my mouth.  Typing that makes me realize just how gross it is, but it was not my thought process at the time.  "Hey, a little bit of chicken dinosaur.  Awesome!  Hey, this chicken dinosaur bit is kinda salty.  Why was it on his cheek?  What is this bit of whatever in my mouth and why am I thinking about eating it??"  I pulled it out and it was not a tiny bit of a chicken dinosaur.

It was a booger.

:::gag:::

Another gross thing happened.  I know, another thing?!  Yes, another thing.  Some people ride the gravy train, but I apparently have a round trip ticket on the gross train.  All aboard!

My baby was toddling around one day and I caught a stinky whiff of something.  I figured that he had either tooted or pooped so I did the normal mom thing to check.  No, not the novice mom thing where you sweep their crack with your finger.  I just pulled the back of the diaper open and took a quick look.

A quick look - ha!  Some things can not be unseen.  Even things that were seen with a quick look!

What did I see?  What was so gross?  I saw him actually pooping in his diaper.  Remember how I mentioned that he's all drooly & stuff from the teething?  Liquid pouring out his mouth usually means liquid pouring out of his butt.  I saw soft & liquidy poo filling the diaper.

I will never eat chocolate soft serve again.  Never!

How to Help and How to Annoy a New Mother

Whether you have had one child or a dozen and whether you physically birthed the child or not, life with a brand new baby can be hectic for at least a period of time.  A dear friend of mine had a baby recently and I found myself remembering the exhausting newborn days.  A few things stand out to me about that time and here are the things that I found to be the good, the bad, and the ugly of early parenthood.

The Good
- My husband took nearly a full week off of work to be with me.  That was sooo helpful because I couldn't even lift the baby in the first few days and having him there was a great comfort to me.
- Between my husband and my MIL, I never changed even one dirty diaper in my son's first week of life.  I didn't see even one meconium-filled diaper and don't feel that I missed out on anything!
- Friends and family brought us dinners every day for nearly two full weeks.  I can't stress enough how much those meals were welcomed and appreciated when I didn't have the energy to cook and couldn't even manage my way around the kitchen. 
- A lactation consultant who seemed really interested in helping me establish an awesome breastfeeding relationship by helping me work on getting a good latch.  This was in contrast to the first LC I saw while still in the hospital.
- The friend who volunteered to watch our son when he was a couple months old so that we could go to dinner.  I still find it difficult to leave my son with a sitter who he doesn't know and it was incredibly kind that this friend offered because hubs & I definitely needed the time to reconnect at that point.


The Bad
- People who suggested that I stop struggling with breastfeeding and just go with a bottle of formula.  It is no one's business how any mother chooses to feed her child.  Period.  So STFU about it unless you are asked for your opinion or advice.
- People who suddenly developed opinions on my dietary choices. . .and I lost my pregnancy weight by my post-partum checkup!  Yeah, I gained that weight right back (and then some!) once my son was weaned, but it was gone for a period of time.  A woman's doctor is just about the only one who can voice concern about her weight.  If you aren't her personal physician, you just sound like a jerk.
- People who give unrequested advice.  OMFG, this one gripes me!  It's unbelievable how many people try to undermine a new mother's authority over her own child.  The worst was when my husband would be given some choice nugget and he'd take it back to me because then it felt like my husband was being used against me.
- People who expected their dishes back within some unknown timeframe and badger the mother about them.  It is very kind to bring meals to a new mother, but it is very stressful if you call every day to inquire about getting back your dishes.  It's even more stressful if the mother has had a c/s and can't even freaking drive yet!  Drop off meals in dishes that you don't need back right away (or dishes that are disposable) or don't bother.
- People who try to scare you about your new baby by indicating that something completely normal and expected is abnormal and unexpected.  New babies generally do not sleep through the night, new babies do go through a peak fussy period, new babies do experience growth spurts in which they nurse significantly more than they did the week previously, and newborns tend to spit up a bit.

The Ugly
- People who stopped by unannounced and wanted to see the baby.  When a new mother is walking around nearly topless and totally sleep deprived 24/7, this is not an appreciated visit and her ability to shoot the breeze is impossibly impaired.
- People who stayed for what seemed like forever.  When you're operating on two total hours of sleep in a 24-hour period, an hour-long visit is just too long and it's time that could be used for napping.
-  People who are uptight about Thank You notes.  Look, I am kind of obsessive about writing out thank yous and I do it the day that I receive a gift so if you didn't receive one from me at some point, it was most likely lost in the mail (or I held it because I usually see you in person).  But I wouldn't dream of acting like a snarky witch if a new mother hasn't found the time to write a stupid thank you note.  Seriously, is the recipient going to frame it or something?
- People who have the nerve to ask when you're going to clean and do housework.  WTF?!  I swear that my response will be, "as soon as you can help me," if I am ever asked such a ridiculously rude question ever again.
- People who question your parental choices.  I ordinarily have pretty thick skin and can take criticism fairly well, but not when I'm in the midst of the post-partum hormone crash.  I think that these people have no idea how lousy they made me feel when I was at my most vulnerable.

What are your top tips for helping out a new mother?  Do you have any early motherhood horror stories?

My Favorite Tools for Breastfeeding

I was thinking about breastfeeding the other day and wanted to write a post about my disappointment over people's reaction toward so-called extended breastfeeding, but somehow it became a post about the items I really appreciated having when I was breastfeeding my son.  Perhaps you have something to add to my list?

My initial instinct is to just write "BREASTS" and call this post complete, but that wouldn't be the truth because I found that I needed more than just my breasts to have a successful nursing relationship with my son.  So here's a list of my favorite items that helped me nurse my lil' guy until he was right around 13-months old.  I tried to list things in order of importance, but realize that doing so didn't really work out that way for this list.


The Nursing Mother's Companion by Kathleen Huggins - This book was like my breastfeeding bible.  It was so helpful every step of the way!  Think your baby isn't getting enough milk because they nurse a lot?  It's covered.  Think something is wrong with your milk because your baby is fussy or spits up a lot?  It's covered.  Think maybe you should wean because baby is "old enough" or you're too tired to nurse?  It's covered.  I referred to it so often that I am kicking myself for lending it out because I never got it back and I know that I'll want it again when this baby is born.

My Brest Friend - This nursing pillow was my absolute favorite for the first several months of my son's life because it made it so much easier to get him in a good position for nursing.  I really struggled with breastfeeding while in the hospital and part of it was because it felt that he was resting directly on my incision whenever he was nursing. . .thankfully, I had this nursing pillow at home!  It has a wrap-around design that stays put until you're ready to remove it (I actually was able to walk around and nurse only because of this pillow) and it was almost like a firm shelf that he rested on right under my breasts.  It also has a handy little pocket for stuff like nursing pads, lip balm, and nipple lanolin.

Boppy - This crescent-shaped nursing pillow is much more popular than My Brest Friend, but I didn't find it helpful at all until my son was around six-months old and older.  It was nice to have at that point, but I'm afraid that I may not have continued nursing if it had been the only nursing pillow available for me to use in his first six months of life.  I guess I'm saying that you might want to save the Boppy until baby is a bit older or you might find nursing somewhat discouraging.

Lansinoh Lanolin - I never used any other nipple treatments because this worked so well for me.  It kept my nipples supple and helped heal the wounds that I received to my nipples in the very beginning. 

Lansinoh Ultra Thin Nursing Pads - I had massive over-supply and I leaked constantly so I tried a lot of different nursing pads and these ones are THE BEST if you're a heavy producer.  These nursing pads held so much leaking milk that they quite literally would make a "squish" sound the few times that they hit my tiled floor.  Though the pads were totally saturated, I was dry!  Bonus: They did not leave any little fibers on my breasts like I experienced with other brands.

Lansinoh Ultra Soft Nursing Pads - These were my favorite to use when my nipples were tender or sore, but they did look a little funny under my shirt.  They were great in the beginning and anytime that my son experienced a growth spurt.  Why mention the growth spurts?  Because during a growth spurt it can feel like your infant is hanging off your boobs 24/7 and all that extra nursing can make your nipples hurt.  Bonus (again):  They don't leave any fibers to pick off your sore nipples.

Reusable Nursing Pads - A few months after my son was weaned, I no longer had to use my standard Lansinoh Ultra Thin disposable nursing pads.  However, I still had leaking issues and it took a looooong time for my milk to dry up so I turned to cotton nursing pads that could be washed & dried.  Of the mainstream (found in BRU) pads, I liked the size of Dr. Brown's the best.  The others I tried were too small and looked really funny under my bra.

Breast Pump - I have no proof of this, but I swear that lots of pumping in the early days is what set me up with a fantastic milk supply.  I used a double electric while in the hospital and switched to the manual Avent Isis at home.  It's quiet, inexpensive, and super-easy to take apart for cleaning.  Using the Avent Isis, I was able to get ounce after ounce after ounce of milk in less than ten minutes and, as a result, I had tons of frozen breastmilk that I could use to mix with my son's cereal once he started solids.

Breast Shells - Note that I am not talking about a completely different item called breast shields!  I liked Avent's breast shells and they were so helpful when my nipples were healing (after having bad latch for the first several days) and when I suffered with engorgement issues.  I had engorgement issues off & on for around nine months so I had plenty of experience with using these babies.

Cold Packs and Warm Compresses - These were helpful to alternate when my milk came in and I had the most painful engorgement issues.  When I was so full that my nipples were stretched totally flat, I found it helpful to lean over a big bowl of warm water and let my nipples soften up.  Funky bonus is that it looks crazy to see the milk swirl out of your nipple and in to the water. I also thought that spraying down the shower with my milky fountains worked too, but it required more effort.

Breasts & Nipples - Obviously these are necessary, right?  One thing you might not realize is that the percentage of women who are biologically incapable of breastfeeding is incredibly small.  So if you want to breastfeed, the chances are incredibly good that you'll be able to do it.  Small breasts, inverted nipples, and other issues aren't necessarily a roadblock to establishing a nursing relationship.  If you have any reason to think that you have (or may have) problems with breastfeeding, do seek out the assistance of a lactation consultant as soon as possible to get help and reassurance.

Fluids - I was so thirsty and drank so much water when I was breastfeeding!  I guzzled a full glass of water at every nursing session in the early months of breastfeeding.  Fluids are important for a nursing mama, but follow your own thirst cues and avoid fluids that are diuretics.

Rest - Silly idea, resting while breastfeeding exclusively, but it's sorta possible.  Some mamas have success with side nursing, but I could never make it work for me.  If you can manage it, you can snooze while baby nurses.  Let the house fall apart and lean on others for help wherever you can find it so you can sleep when the baby sleeps.  Why rest?  Because your body will have an easier time producing milk if you're not bone-tired all the time.

Baby Carrier - I liked a stretchy wrap for the early days, but a ring sling would also work.  Actually any carrier that's appropriate for the child and used safely will be a good choice.  Why wear your baby?  Because it's easier to spot hunger cues when baby is nearby.  I also found that I was more milkalicious and produced far more milk when baby was against my body.

Attitude - It's true in breastfeeding and any other area of your life:  Don't "try," just "do."  In other words, don't let your attitude be a contributor to failure.  Why take home hospital samples of formula if you're planning to breastfeed?  Leave them there and believe that you will not need them.  Believe that you can do it and you probably will.  I think it was Henry Ford who said it best, whether you think you can or think you can't, you're probably right.

Education - No, you don't need to become a lactation consultant, but ignorance is not always bliss and many women, even mothers, are not very well informed about breastfeeding.  Devour books and scour websites to learn all you can about breastfeeding.  Find out if you can have meet with a lactation consultant or if there are any La Leche League meetings in your area.  Talk with friends who breastfed their own children for any length of time and pay particular attention to those who were able to nurse as long as they wanted because they probably have a lot of handy information to share that they learned while breastfeeding.  Arm yourself with the knowledge you'll need to succeed.


Did you breastfeed?  What were your favorite tools for breastfeeding?

Defending Birth Decisions

The sisterhood of women can really be full of snarky b*tches sometimes, huh?  Yes, I say that knowing fully well that some of you are saying, "Try looking in the mirror, Sweetcheeks."  I may be a snarky b*tch from time to time (okay, most of the time), but I always favor allowing for freedom of choice in darn near all areas of life.

Did you hear a loud KA-BOOM around 1:15 PST?  It's my head exploding over women who clearly don't believe that other women can make decisions for themselves.  What has me particularly pissed at the moment?  Women who attack other women due to their childbirth choices.  I wish I was making this up, but it's something I've witnessed in various forums and I think it completely and totally sucks that anyone would try to make a mother feel bad or inferior based upon her childbirth experience.

Who specifically is acting so douchey?  It pains me to say it because I identify with them in so many ways, but it is most often the more crunchy types of mothers who go batsh*t crazy when a woman decides to have an elective Cesarean or an elective repeat c/s.  In my naivete, I didn't expect a group of "peaceful" parents to be so hateful and attack others just because they have a difference of opinion. I guess that when people say they believe in freedom of opinion, they really mean you are free to believe in their own opinions rather than your own.

As someone who struggled to find peace with my son's c/s, I feel for any mother who feels uncomfortable about her childbirthing experience and I know how emotionally wounded childbirth can leave the mother.  My feelings of dissatisfaction toward my son's birth persisted until well beyond his second birthday.  To say that I felt cheated is an understatement.  It's more that I felt like less of a mother because I didn't get the full experience of pushing a baby out of my vagina.  I felt like I wasn't as good as other mothers I knew. . .the ones who had the dubious joy of vaginal birth.

Looking back now, my feelings seem silly to me.  Seriously, why would I think that having a baby's head pushed out a vadge would make anyone a better mother?  I don't know. . .it's not like vaginal birth confers some special power or wisdom to a new mother.  Regardless, I was tormented by my feelings and they were very real and very painful for a long time.

Over time, I stopped feeling as bad when I thought about his birth.  However, I still felt that I missed out on something special because I missed out on something that was important to me.  Those feelings completely evaporated in the aftermath of my failed natural miscarriage and I decided outright that I will never, ever have an experience like that again. 

Judge me if you must, but I absolutely will not even consider trial of labor, let alone attempt a VBAC.  I've tried to visualize a nice & normal, drug-free vaginal birth and I can't do it.  Even thinking about what labor may be like leaves me shaking, thinking of that ill-fated day where I was in so much pain that I was certain something was so wrong that I was not going to live through the night.  It was so horrific that I truly wish that I had elected to have the D & C from the get-go.  I may have been wounded from my c/s, but I have been scarred and left feeling broken from my miscarriage experience.

Perhaps my own experience is why I find it so disheartening when I read snide comments directed toward women based upon their birth decisions.  As a side note, it's hypocritically fascinating when staunchly pro-choice people get up in arms at the notion of a woman choosing to have an elective cesarean.  I guess "her body, her choice" only applies when it's convenient and in agreement with their personal agenda. 

I think sometimes that we forget that to be respectful of someone's choices doesn't necessarily mean that we are agreeing with them.  I have been against the notion of abortion for roughly ten years because I learned that it ends life, stops a beating heart.  But I'm not going to get up in a woman's business if she chooses to have one because it's not my decision to make and I have no right to try to impose my will on her.  If she can live with her choice, let her and STFU about it.  Understand that I am painfully aware that most women don't choose abortion as easily as they choose their breakfast. . .it's more like an animal gnawing off their own leg to escape a terrifying situation.

I call BS on anyone giving any mother any bit of grief about her childbirth choices and, while I have and had very definite ideas about what I want/wanted personally for myself, I would never try to make a mother feel bad about her choices.  Why?  Because it's not my vagina, my abdomen, my uterus, or my freaking choice!  It is not my right to try to exert my will over any other woman as it relates to childbirth or anything else.  Don't like someone's birth decisions?  You don't have to and it's no one else's problem but your own if you don't like someone else's choices.

At the end of the day, it doesn't really matter how your child arrived in the world (or if you were the one who delivered your child at all) because we're all mothers and we all can use a lot more support and a lot less judgement.

Prayers for a Dear Friend

Last week I blogged about a friend who had just lost her mother.  I'm saddened to hear that she lost her father today.  I can't imagine how she must ache, how her entire family must hurt.

I believe in prayer and I have been praying for my friend every day.  At the height of my own grief, immediately after my brother's death and my baby's death, there were days that I couldn't bring myself to pray.  I wanted to, it's just that I couldn't bring myself to do it.  I didn't feel angry with God, I just felt spiritually dull and dry (broken, really), but I know that I was being prayed for by friends and family members.  I'm convinced that those prayers are what kept me going and what helped lift the heavy fog of depression that was beginning to descend.

Christians may grieve differently than some, the promise of eternal life with Him is a great comfort, but they do still grieve.  Even Jesus wept for Lazarus. . .before He restored him.  Her parents are gone from this earthly life, but they have been restored; reunited with Christ and with each other.

My loving Lord carried me through my darkest hours and I'm know that He's with her too.

We're Never Ready to Say Goodbye

I've just learned that a very good friend lost her mother this morning.  I have had so much to say while processing my own grief over losing my brother and my baby, but words escape me at the moment.  All I can think to say when my friend is hurting over a painful loss is that I'm sorry.

As would be expected when a friend suffers a loss, I hurt for her in a strangely personal way.  I can't recall ever meeting her mom, but I've heard enough about her that I feel like I knew her.  She sounded like a spectacularly wonderful mother - one any girl would be thrilled to have - and I'm sure that makes this grief so much more painful for the family.

It occurs to me that it's always too soon to say goodbye when our loved ones pass away.  If I've said it once, I've said it a million times:  Love your loved ones and let them feel your love every day because tomorrow isn't promised to anyone.

A Poem; Sans Poeticizing

I've always liked writing and there was a time where I wrote a lot of poetry.  Well, I probably did more poeticizing than actually writing poetry, but that's angst-ridden teenaged girls for you!  I ran across a poem that I wrote last Summer and it's just as true now as it was then. 

What I Want for My Son
I want my son to climb. . .even if he might fall.
I want my son to fall. . .so he'll learn that it hurts.
I want my son to learn what hurts. . .so he'll be more careful.

I want my son to try new things. . .even if he might fail.
I want my son to fail. . .so he'll learn to try harder.
I want my son to try harder. . .so he'll excel.

I want my son to explore. . .even if he might get lost.
I want my son to get lost. . .so he'll learn to stay close or at least learn directions!
I want my son to learn directions. . .so he'll be able to find his way around town.

I want my son to fight if he has to. . .even if he might lose.
I want my son to lose. . .so he'll learn how to win.
I want my son to win. . .because I love him.

When Is Nudity Inappropriate?

I've always been pretty comfortable with nudity.  I was that kid who would strip off her clothes and go running down the street anytime supervision eased up just a little.  My brother and sister surely chased down my naked butt at least 100 times.  And that's just when I was a toddler! 

I regularly walked around the house wearing only underpants until I was nearly nine.  I began frequenting nude beaches in my late-teens.  I've never been to a Jimmy Buffett concert where I haven't flashed my boobs.  I think nothing of hopping into a hot tub with friends wearing only my birthday suit and a smile.  And then there were those pictures. . .I guess I'm saying that I'm okay with being naked and with other people seeing me sans clothing.

Naturally, my son has seen me naked plenty of times throughout his life.  I mean, he nom nomed on my milkalicious boobs until he was almost 13-months old and he's bathed or showered with me plenty of times.  He often sits on my bed and watches me while I dress in the morning and he usually sees me disrobing as I get ready to jump in the shower each night.

My son will be three-years old in a few months and I'm wondering if I should begin to exhibit a little more modesty around him.  He understandably used to light up and smack his lips when he saw my exposed breasts.  I get that and it makes sense.  Now he is very curious about my pubic area and I'm not sure what to make of that.  He's asked why I don't have a wiener, which I think is kind of funny, but he also runs up to pat my pubic hair anytime I don't slip on underpants fast enough, which I do not find very humorous. 

I know that he isn't looking at me in an inappropriate way or sneaking touches to be sexual, but I don't know when or if his natural curiosity should be curbed.  I do wear all of my clothes when he's around so he probably thinks it's funny or interesting that I look different than him when undressed.  I absolutely do not want him to develop any weird feelings about the human body and I want him to feel comfortable in his own skin.  But I also don't want to raise Oedipus. 

Are you a parent of a boy?  How old are they now?  Did they see you naked in their early years?  When did you stop letting them see you naked?  Are they funny about nudity, their own or anyone else?  Do you have any suggestions, thoughts, or advice?

Toddlers Will Make You Mental

My son was not an accident; we desperately wanted him.  My husband and I tried for months upon months upon months to have a baby.  I loved my son before he was ever conceived.  I wept when I heard his heartbeat at 6-weeks gestation.  I adored him before I ever saw him.  I wouldn't go so far as to say that the sun rises and sets on his face (that would be my husband), but it's pretty darn close.  I sometimes think that no one can possibly understand just how much I love this little boy.

But, as much as I love him, sometimes he makes me absolutely cuckoo.  I've gathered, through experience and advice, that mothering a toddler can be strange at times.  And, man, peculiarity is ruling in this house right now - particularly when it comes to sleep.

My son used to be a super-sleeper.  The operative words there are "used to."  He slept a minimum of twelve-hours each night and he still napped for several hours every afternoon.  All that stopped when he began sleeping (yeah, right!) in the big boy bed.

Now he throws a fit and protests bedtime.  He refuses to take naps.  He runs out of his bedroom to be with us in the living room.  Every night doesn't end in a horrible battle, but most nights do.

I know he's not getting enough sleep because he has suddenly become a child who will sleep in the car.  My son has only slept in the car a very small handful of times in his entire life; perhaps ten times total.  Now, he falls asleep in the car at least once each week.

I've tried all kinds of tactics to get him to sleep.  I've cuddled him until he's nearly sleeping, I've sat on the floor and rubbed his back, I've put him in time out, I've yelled at him to get back in that bed!, I've snuggled with him on a bed, I've moved his bedtimes and naptimes.  Nothing seems to work more than once or twice except me sleeping in the twin-size bed in his room.  I do not want to sleep in his room because I want to be in my room with my husband.  But I want sleep more than anything these days so I will sometimes cave and go to the little one's bedroom.

He actually went to bed pretty easily last night.  Sort of.  He ran out of his room and sat on the couch.  He zonked out in short order so I put him in his own bed.  Around midnight, he ran to our room and wouldn't go back to bed.  I decided to go to sleep in his room so we could all get a little sleep.

That worked wonderfully until 2:00 am when he kicked me in the head (!) and then ran out to the living room.  As he was running about screaming, I really envied friends who have never experienced the joys of parenthood.  I eventually got him back in bed and he slept until 9:00 this morning.  I, however, didn't have such luxury and I figure that I maybe ended up with a total of three or four hours of sleep last night.  I find it practically impossible to sleep with him in the bed.

I was tired, but we went to a birthday party today.  It was a pool party.  My son loooves the water and he had so much fun.  My heart felt so full as I was watching him splashing, laughing, and playing.  Yes, I'm chronically exhausted.  Yes, his tantrums are tiresome.  Yes, I'm finding that his toddlerhood is making me mental. 

But, oh how I love this little boy.  He really is my sweet sunshine.

Happy Belated Mother's Day

My son only had one accident today, so I'll take a break from chronicling his potty training progress. I'll focus on my motherhood journey since I didn't acknowledge Mother's Day yesterday.

I always wanted kids. I used to love playing with baby dolls. I wished that my parents would have a baby so that I wouldn't be the youngest. I adored spending as much time as possible with my nieces & nephews. I thought kids were about the coolest little people on the planet. Um, that's not meant as a slam against midgets or dwarfs, but I thought kids were cooler.

My attitude shifted around my early twenties and children were nowhere near being on my radar. Kids became annoying and whiny in my eyes. Instead of considering children to be blessings, they appeared to be a hindrance to personal happiness. I had goals and, frankly, children would have stopped my progress for a long time. So I delayed motherhood.

I didn't want children at all when I was married to my ex-husband. I used to tell him that I'd rather cut my (expletive deleted) throat than have a child with him. Before you think I'm a mega-b*tch for saying such a thing, let's just say that he had it coming. It's shocking that we ended up divorced, huh? Honestly, procreating with him would have been the absolute worst decision in history. Well, in my history anyway. So I delayed motherhood.

Children can cost a lot of money and they absolutely do take a lot of effort. For much of my life I either didn't have the money to raise kids or wasn't willing to spend it. I sure as heck wasn't willing to give much effort. I knew that it would be wrong to have a child that I wasn't willing or able to take care of properly. So I delayed motherhood.

I have made a lot of stupid decisions in my life, but delaying motherhood was one of the best decisions I ever made. I had conditions that I wanted to meet prior to procreating. I wanted to be in a solid marriage. I wanted to be financially comfortable. I wanted to be mature enough to handle the immense responsibility.

My mother used to say that I'll never get around to having children if I put motherhood off until everything is just right. My conditions were finally met to my satisfaction and my son is nearly two, so clearly she was wrong. I'm glad that I waited.

I would have had far more energy if I had children in my 20s. The days of easily handling life on less than four hours of sleep are long gone. What I lost in energy I gained in patience, selflessness, and appreciation. The path I chose isn't for everyone, but it was just right for this family.

Motherhood has been a joy and a blessing to me. I knew that I'd love my child, but I never could have guessed the depth and breadth of that love. I wept with joy the first time I saw my darling precious boy. I had been begging to see him for two hours and I finally was moved to my hospital room. Holding my son was like holding my own heart in my hands.

Generally speaking, I'm emotionally cold when people cry, but my son's tears can move me to tears. I feel like I'm going to burst with pride when he masters a new skill. I delight in his silly toddler absurdities.

I do miss earning a salary. I do miss that money. I miss being independent financially. But that money wasn't buying this kind of happiness. We laugh together several times each day and I adore spending my time with my kiddo - even if I don't earn one red cent.

Every day is a special "mother's day" for me. I don't need any special gifts on Mother's Day. Being a mother has been gift enough.

The Toughest Job You'll Ever Love

I'm not talking about the Peace Corps, though I just stole their slogan for the title of this post. I'm talking about parenthood in general, motherhood specifically.

Parenthood is an incredible responsibility. I held a responsible position prior to having my son, but it was nothing compared to parenthood. Nearly every single decision you make, from the food you prepare to the toys you purchase, can have a positive or negative impact on your child. If you're selfish and can't handle self-sacrifice, do society a favor and don't become a parent yet. There's no shame in delaying parenthood until you are mature enough to handle the responsibility. Why do you think I waited until I was in my 30s to start a family?

Parenthood comes with much joy and aggravation. The joys are obvious: your baby's eyes lighting up when you walk in the room, your baby's smiles, your little one saying "dada" or "mama," your toddler planting an unsolicited kiss on your cheek, your sweet child saying that they "luf you too." I'd imagine the joys continue to grow as the child does. The aggravations may not be as obvious to a non-parent. Yes, I know that parents shouldn't think parenting is aggravating, but sometimes it really is. My son isn't quite two, so veteran parents are probably thinking that I haven't seen anything yet. What can I say? I start some days with one last nerve and my son has the uncanny ability to continue getting on it. On those days, it's up to me to get glad in the same shoes I just got mad in and turn my frown upside down.

As a stay-at-home-mother (SAHM), I have a completely different parenting experience than my husband. I can express my exhaustion and frustration, but he can't fully understand it unless he's been in the trenches. As someone who has worked for a salary and someone who "does nothing" all day, I can easily say that it is far more difficult to stay home and care for a child.

I've heard some people claim that a woman is happiest if she's raising her children at home. I don't particularly agree with that sentiment because staying home to raise children just isn't for everyone. Financial obligations aside (and plenty of mothers work to keep a roof overhead & food in the cupboard), some women need more adult stimulation than they can get at playdates and Mommy & Me classes, some women are concerned about their future prospects and aren't willing to have a lengthy employment gap on their resume, some women just don't want to have their lives revolve around diaper changes, feedings, diaper changes, feedings, playtime, diaper changes, & naps. Women have the option of choosing whatever works best for them and in this post-feminist world, no one can question her decision. Heh, that actually just reminded me of Steve Martin's line from the movie Parenthood: "Women have choices, men have responsibilities." Sucks to be you, Men! haha

I can't say what's best for someone else's family, but I know what's best for my family. That said, caring for my child all day by myself is strange at times. The rest of the world tends to fade away when I'm focused on my little one. Things that had been important are no longer even on my radar - I'm sometimes surprised to notice that I haven't plucked my eyebrows in months. A 25-pound individual can make or break my day and the entire day goes down the toilet if my son wakes up on the wrong side of the crib. Singing The Alphabet Song 102 times each day is mind-numbing. My back, shoulders, & arms ache from playing "1, 2, 3, WHEE!" so often. I periodically have vague feelings of guilt because I'm sure that I'm not doing an awesome-enough job and raising the best kid ever.

Life is short and it is always uncertain. Though sometimes minutes begin to feel like hours and hours feel like days, I adore staying home with my son. My days with my son are precious and this time will never come again. Cleaning, cooking, laundry. . .it can all wait until my little boy is snoozing. I cherish my time with my little boy and I am so thankful that I have the opportunity to stay home with him.



Thank you, my love, for working so hard for our family. The house is a mess today because I decided to shirk cleaning and write this post while the tater tot is napping! xoxo

A Tragic Loss

On April 7th, I solicited prayers for a young mother. Several months ago she delivered her premature baby and she ultimately ended up requiring a heart transplant. Other than needing a heart, she appeared to be significantly healed and was home with her family, which includes her husband, their six-year old daughter and infant son. Last week she experienced a brain hemorrhage, leaving her in a coma.

It is with a heavy heart that I write of Wendy Talarico's passing. She is resting with God, but I want to request intercessory prayer for her family. They are understandably grieving and hurting so much.

Please pray for her husband, Frank, who is left to raise their two children without his loving wife. Please pray for their daughter, who is old enough to remember her mother - and miss her. Please pray for their little son, who will never remember his own mother. And please pray for her entire extended family.

It's a true miracle that her family had these last several months together. Modern medicine was at a loss to explain why she recovered to the extent that she did. Perhaps God gave her family that final bit of time together as a gift.

Please keep this family lifted up in prayer. . .

My Biggest Fear

Some people fear public speaking above anything - even above death! As someone who likes having an audience in her hands, I find that hard to believe, but okay. Personally, I'm terrified of death. I'm not afraid of what will happen to me when I die, I'm remarkably unconcerned about that, but I am afraid of what will happen to my husband and my son. Being separated from my family is my biggest fear and I don't want to leave my husband to raise our son all alone. I'd imagine all parents have the same fear.

When my son was about 7-weeks old, I suffered migraines for a solid week. These weren't typical migraines. I mean, I can still find a way to function when my head hurts so bad that I can't function. No, these were much, much worse. One morning I woke up to discover that I couldn't intelligibly speak. I knew in my mind what I was trying to say, but I couldn't form the words and the only sound coming from my mouth was gibberish. I ultimately ended up totally losing the vision in one eye and losing most of the vision in the other eye. I was afraid that I was stroking out and thought that I might die, abandoning my sweet young son. But, no, they were just really horrible migraines. The good news is that the lochia finally stopped just days before the headaches began so at least I didn't have to deal with the baby, the pain (the c-section incision still hurt), and the crazy headaches while feeling like I was bleeding to death.

About a week ago, I told my husband that I'd want to follow him to the grave if anything happened to him, but I have an obligation to raise our son and that responsibility would keep me tethered here on Earth. I don't believe that I'd remarry because there is no way that I would ever find such a wonderful husband, or loving father for our son, ever again. I know it's important for boys to have a man around to emulate and I don't know how I would address that, but my son does have two uncles who leave nearby and I know that I'd be able to count on them when it comes to man-stuff that I just can't do or don't know about.

If anything happened to me. . .well, my husband didn't think that he'd remarry for reasons similar to mine. We're both 1-1 for marriages and the odds of experiencing another awesome relationship just aren't that great. I would want him to remarry though, I can't bear to think of him being lonely and sad. And I want my son to have a mother. I'd prefer it to be me, but if not, I would want him to have a loving step-mother.

Death comes to us all and you never really know when your time is up so it's best to make the most of the time you have. Be kind to your family, be generous with affection, let them know they are loved.

It's Easier to Go to Work

I'm just a stay-at-home-mom (SAHM), it's not like I'm ever busy, right? Wrong!

I babysat a 22-month old all day yesterday. I spent yesterday evening doing food prep (cutting veggies, cutting fruit, making dip, etc.) for a brunch playdate that I was hosting today. I enjoyed a bottle of wine last night once my husband came home from work. Okay, a bottle and a half. An alarm went off in my son's room in the middle of the night last night, which I had to turn off - apparently the kiddos figured out how to set the alarm clock. I woke up waaay too early (at least it felt that way) and had a hangover. I assembled and cooked four different dishes, put the fruit and veggies in pretty serving dishes & bowls, and set the table, buffet-style. I made coffee, boiled water in the kettle for tea or cocoa, decanted apple juice and milk, and poured sugar in a sugar bowl. We entertained six of our friends today and had a blast. We helped a friend label diapers for a yard sale tomorrow morning. We made arrangements to carpool with another friend to said yard sale. I left my son in the care of his father and spent four hours getting my hair done this evening. My son was not asleep when I arrived home and I had to soothe him to sleep. I'm actually glad that I overate at the brunch because I didn't end up getting supper until around nine o'clock. I have to go to the store sometime tomorrow morning to pick up a birthday gift for a special little girl and we'll be attending her birthday party tomorrow afternoon. We have dinner plans with another friend tomorrow evening.

I'm so busy lately, I wonder how I ever had the time to work.

In the midst of all these obligations, I'm worried about my father. He has spent the last two days in the ICU (still there tonight too), he's had to receive a total of four units of blood since his "routine outpatient procedure" on the 17th, and the procedure wasn't fully completed. I can't even go see him because I always have my son around and there is no way I can get away with bringing a 22-month old to the ICU.

I'm busy, I'm exhausted, and I'm unbelievably stressed out. Stop this train, I want to get off. I'm putting on the brakes come Sunday and that's that.

Calgon, Take Me Away!!!

I feel like I'm living in a Calgon commercial. Do you remember those? I realize that I'm dating myself as quite a bit older than my stated 29-years by admitting that I remember those commercials, but I'm totally living those commercials today. They depicted a harried housewife, overcome with stress: the baby is crying, the dog is barking, the phone is ringing, the pan is boiling over, there's someone at the door. . .all at the same moment in time. In the midst of this frantic situation, she calls out, "Calgon, take me away!" Poof! Just like that she's relaxing in a nice, bubbly bath filled with Calgon.

I'm having a Calgon Take Me Away Day today. You know, the part before the sudsy bathtub.

It actually started last night. My right eye had been bothering me and I kept rubbing it. Big mistake, I know, but I actually woke up rubbing it in the middle of the night. Since I wear disposable contacts, I decided to toss them and use new ones tomorrow. I crawled back in bed without another thought. Notice that I didn't actually make sure that I had another pair to use come morning. Of course, I did not. So I had to blindly fish around for my ancient emergency pair of eyeglasses. And when I say "blind", I mean it. At my last exam, about 2 1/2 years ago, my vision was -6.00 in each eye. I fully expect that I have continued to grow nearsighted since then. I feel handicapped without vision correction.

Thankfully, I finally found my glasses in the back of a drawer. They are at least eight-years old (I really do not like wearing glasses) and I have had at least six prescription changes since then, but they are better than no correction at all. I took the kiddo to his class, which is only about two miles away from the house. After baby school, I decided to jam over to my optometrist. I was going to squeeze in an exam and, hopefully, score a pair of contacts to tide me over until my contact lens order arrived. Unfortunately, my optometrist (who I've been seeing for 15-years) is on vacation until March 10th. So I am stuck wearing eyeglasses with a terribly outdated prescription for at least another week and a half.

I arrived home to find that the freaking ants, who I've been battling for what seems like forever, made another attack on my kitchen counter. So I went on a cleaning spree and, like always, didn't find anything that could possibly be attracting the crawly little bastards.

I went to the living room to try to come up with a solution to my blind eyes and I heard birds chirping in my chimney. I gritted my teeth and shook my head. I have an intense fear of a bird flying loose in my house. I hate birds in general and it's just bad luck.

Then I heard even worse. The unmistakable sound of a damned rat in my attic. I love having the avocados and figs in the backyard, but they absolutely do attract rats. I was starting to feel like Marlin Perkins in Wild Fucking Kingdom between the ants in my kitchen, the birds in my chimney, and the damned rat in my attic.

I decided to leave the house to the wildlife and took the kiddo grocery shopping. I couldn't find my special shopping card at checkout. You know, those stupid club cards that every store requires that you have to get the sale prices? I hate those cards. I hate those cards. I hate those cards. Typically, you can give your phone number and the checker can credit the sale to your card that way. Unfortunately, I hate giving out my information and I always give fake phone numbers. I think an angel must have been my checker, though, because she took pity on me and used another card.

Once I arrived home, I realized that I never started dinner in the crockpot this morning. I promised my husband a crockpot meatloaf and he was going to get one! I fed the kiddo lunch and started prepping like a madwoman. I tossed the meatloaf in the slow-cooker and I made a couple of tasty vegetable sides, which I stored safely in the fridge.

About this time, I realized that I hadn't changed my son's diaper in a couple of hours. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem. He always tells me when he poops. He didn't today. His bottom was so pink, it broke my heart to hear him crying as I wiped away the waste.

Suddenly, the day improved dramatically. My husband came home. He loved his dinner. Our kiddo was in a good mood. I even took advantage of the lull to clip the little one's fingernails - a task that is usually full of tears and drama. The baby doesn't like it either - haha. Oddly enough, he was very well-behaved as I wielded the nail clippers and he only cried a couple of times. I thought the day was turning around. I was wrong.

My husband returned to the office and the kiddo & I had our dinner. Then it was time for his bath. I stripped him down in the bathroom and dropped his diaper. Remember how I said that he always tells me when he poops? Yeah, well he didn't tell me yet again. He looked down and FREAKED OUT when he saw his diaper. He started screaming, "POO-POO! POO-POO!" and he began climbing me to get away from his diaper. I took him to his changing table to clean his bottom and the bottom that had only been pink an hour or so ago was now a deep red. My poor babe cried so hard as I wiped his bottom. It hurt so much that he refused to sit in his bathtub. He took his bath standing up tonight. He wailed and kept trying to move away as I cleaned his sore bottom. He threw such a fit when I slathered on rash ointment that I wanted to cry for him.

My poor babe didn't want to sleep tonight and he kept whimpering as he clutched my arm. I must have rocked him for nearly thirty minutes before he was settled down enough to finish our bedtime routine.

I don't generally drink during the week, but I am having some wine tonight. Sauvignon Blanc, take me away!!!

Mama + Migraine = Miserable

I felt poorly when I went to bed last night. My stomach hurt and I had the beginning of a headache. As is typical, I tossed and turned for about 90 minutes before falling asleep. I woke in the middle of the night and took a couple of aspirin. I woke this morning with a dull headache. I took a more aspirin and we started our very busy morning.

I felt pretty good by around 11:00 when we arrived at the mall to meetup with some friends. Then I smelled it. The offensive stink of cheap men's cologne was hanging in the air, assaulting me. My head exploded. I could feel my pulse beating by barely touching my temples. I continued pushing the stroller forward, willing the pain to abate. I sat down for a few minutes and chatted quietly with a friend and I felt a little better. We strolled the mall for a little more than an hour and, though my head pounded harder each time we passed a highly perfumed shop, it was so nice to visit with friends.

By the time I got home, the throbbing headache was back in full force. I reheated some leftovers for lunch and took a couple more aspirin. My son thankfully told me he was tired ("tie, tie") shortly after lunch and I seized the opportunity to rest. The light coming through the window bothered me, but I covered up my eyes and held my head. I ended up falling asleep for nearly two hours.

My husband asked me why I didn't take my migraine pills when I started feeling so terrible. I told him that I didn't think it was a migraine because I was able to go about my day. I've since wondered if I was wrong. Lights and smells bothered me - perhaps even triggering the headache. My head throbbed with a ferocious intensity. Bending over to pick something off the floor resulted in blinding pain. All I could think of doing is curling up on the bed and covering my eyes. Yeah, it does sound like a migraine.

I suffered with a week of migraine pain when my son was about six-weeks old. It was, quite possibly, the worst week of my life. I couldn't form sentences one morning. I lost the vision in one eye for nearly an entire day and my vision was not good in my other eye. I totally thought that I might have been stroking out. But, no, it was a migraine and it was miserable to this mama.

If I did have a migraine today, I'm impressed that I handled it so well and pleased that it went away so quickly. I'm also perplexed why I didn't get an aura as I usually do when a migraine hits. I guess all migraines don't necessarily have the same symptoms, but aura is usually my clue that it's coming and to get home and take some Midrin fast.

Whatever kind of headache it was, I'm just glad that it's gone.

Top Spot of Affection

I think it's a day that is dreaded by all mothers of boys. The day that another woman takes the top spot of affection in your son's heart.

I know that my son will still love me when he is a grown man. But he will love his wife more. He'll confide in her, he'll prefer to spend time with her, and he'll need most of his support from her. At least, that's the way I see things. A mother can't take the wife's role and she shouldn't try. Nobody likes a meddling mother.

My son is just a toddler now and I'm his favorite woman at this point, but I know that the time will come that another woman will move into the top spot of affection in his heart. And that knowledge already brings a sharp pang of sadness. Why does it bother me? Because I know that loving someone allows you to be hurt by them. I know that I'll never hurt my son, but I can't say the same for every woman he'll meet.

I wonder who this woman will be. Who will my son love? Who will be his confidante, his friend, his cheerleader? I pray that she'll be a kind and decent woman and, mostly, that she'll be good to him. The only thing that breaks my heart more than knowing he'll pull away from me to draw near to another woman is the fear that he'll be hurt by her.

I've already caught a glimmer of what it will feel like to be set aside for someone else. My son is in love with Nina, the evening host on PBS Sprout. For the longest time, she was the only thing that he would look at on the television. He would wave whenever she appeared on the screen and, on more than one occasion, he has run up to kiss her.

One evening my son and I were in the kitchen together as I was finishing up his dinner preparation. We were having a good time, laughing and playing fun little games. Suddenly we heard Nina's voice from the living room. My son's eyes widened, he dropped the toy we had been playing with, and he bolted out of the kitchen. I found him in the middle of the living room, transfixed by his lovely Nina.

I chuckled about the Nina incident, but this is just the beginning. He'll like other pretty ladies on television. He'll play tricks on little girls he likes in elementary school. He'll work hard and save diligently to take girls out on dates when he's in high school. These girls won't bother me because they aren't likely to stick around for long.

I'll be a little more concerned when he wants to bring someone home to meet us. I'll be gracious, but I'll probably want to chase her out of my house. And my eyes will mist up when he announces that he's asked someone to be his wife. Tears will come for a few reasons: I'll be so happy that he's found such happiness that he wants to keep it forever, I'll be concerned whether or not he's made a good choice, and at that point I'll know without a doubt that my reign in his heart is over.

Who is she, this woman who will bring my son such joy? I'm almost 19 years younger than my husband and he likes to joke that our son's future wife won't be born for at least another 15 years! I don't know about that, but I do know that I've prayed for my son's future wife from time to time as if she were already on this planet. I've prayed that she'll have a stable home life and will be raised in a godly home. I've prayed that she'll be loving and generous. And I've prayed that my son will know her when he finds her.

Perhaps it's a little weird to pray for the woman who will ultimately displace me. But I know that she'll be here one day and I want my son to love her freely when that day comes. For now, I'll be content that I am in the top spot of affection in my son's heart. Until Nina is on the television screen!