Tag: Mama Thoughts

Being Mama When Baby gets Hurt

On By JesseIn Life, Motherhood, Thoughts2 Comments

Yesterday, one of my precious, nearly two year old boys, fell off of and hit his face on the toy box he’d climbed. He fell so hard, his teeth went right through his upper lip and gouged the wood. Luckily, the cut is completely inside his mouth, the teeth involved seem fine, and he didn’t meet criteria for stitches. That said, his swollen upper lip looks like black and red hamburger meat inside and every time I look at his sweet face, my heart hurts.

One of the choices I’ve made for my children is to give them a great deal of freedom to explore their world, make mistakes, and learn. This often results in awesome photos of messy, happy kids running wild in the woods and fields around our home. They ride horses, play with our giant dog, pick up bugs, paddle board and kayak with us, and while they aren’t fearless, they are all quite independent for their respective ages. Most of the time, I feel confident in my approach.

Then something like this happens and that confidence crumbles a little more every time I conjure the image of my child sitting on the floor sobbing with blood covering his hands and running down his chin. I hold him close, I clean him up, and thoroughly investigate the injury. But even after determining a good rinse, some ice, and time will heal the wound, I know that another little piece of my heart is wounded in a way that won’t ever heal. This is motherhood. And I finally understand how my mama can so quickly recall and describe in excruciating detail every one of my own and my three brothers’ injuries throughout our childhood.

It’s a process, but after working my way over mountains of guilt and fear, I eventually find myself back where I started. Whenever possible, I want to give them more tools to successfully navigate the world. Only as a last resort do I want to make more rules or restrictions to prevent them from being hurt. Now is the time for them to take risks and experience the results. Now, while I’m here to scoop them up and make it okay. Now, while I’m able to create spaces for them to learn where even when they fail spectacularly, the ultimate risk is relatively low.

One day, my sweet, wild girl and boys will go out into the world without me or their dad there to kiss knees, rush them to urgent care, talk them through their options and possible outcomes, tell them no, cook for them, wash their clothes, and the list goes on. Motherhood is fun, painful, beautiful, terrifying, and exhilarating . . . but it’s also a job. And navigating the delicate balance between keeping my babies safe and preparing them to take on the world on their own is one of the hardest parts that job.

At the Top of These Stairs

On By JesseIn Life, Motherhood, Prose, Thoughts, Twins, Writing1 Comment

I have spent countless, late-night hours nursing babies at the top of these stairs. It’s quiet and peaceful, if not the most comfortable place to sit. When my sweet Sunshine (my first baby) was born, I set up a whole nursing station with a cozy chair, books I was reading, phone charger, snacks, water . . . but with the boys, we were so far behind before we even got started, nothing like that ever came together. I used to bring them into our bed to nurse, but once we moved them out of our room, it felt like more trouble than it was worth. More and more often, I found myself stopping just outside their door and sitting down on this top step.

Sometimes, I think about what I need to get done that week or words I’d like to write. Sometimes, I think about the kids’ antics that day and make plans for fun and interesting things we can do later. I make grocery lists, budget, and sometimes read . . .

But on nights like this one, and there have been many, I just stare at the top of their heads and think about them–their whole lives from the moment I met them to this one: noting how much their hair has grown and how long they’re getting, mapping the feel of their weight in my arms, measuring their feet with my palms, pressing kisses into their soft hands, and watching them slowly-slowly drift back to sleep against my chest.

Then I sit here, much longer than necessary, the words from a book I loved as a child but didn’t understand at all echoing through my mind:

“I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.”

Every Mama has her Day

On By JesseIn Life, Motherhood, Sunshine1 Comment

While ringing me up at the register in JoAnne’s last week, the cashier told me that I was really put together.  It felt nice.  And I know why she said it.  My hair was cute, I had lip gloss on, mascara even!  I was holding my daughter on one hip, my purchases in the same hand I had wrapped around her back and I signed the receipt with my free hand.  My sweet Sunshine was happy and smiling and waving at everyone.  I’m sure I looked like a mom who’s got her $#@& together.  So I smiled and I said thank you and I really meant it.  What I did not do was tell her about the week before.

The week before, I showed up at swim class with no lip gloss and my hair in the same, wobbly, top-of-my-head bun I slept in.  We had five minutes to get ready before we were supposed to be in the pool.  I opened our swim bag and dug and dug  . . .  and dug.  I dug until I hit the bottom and dug back up to the top, refusing to except the evidence before my eyes that I had somehow not brought my daughter’s swimsuit or swim diaper.

I threw everything out onto the bench at the Y, I had to check just one more time.  No dice.  I called my husband to see if he’d maybe put it in her diaper bag and he reminded me that my darling girl had gotten into her swim bag just before we left.  She’d thrown everything out and he’d thrown everything back in, but neither of us checked to make sure she hadn’t made off with something important.  There was nothing for it, we weren’t going to be able to go to class.  It was awful because she loves the water and she loves her friend Fred, who we’ve been in swim class with since she was seven months old.

About that time, I heard Fred outside the door so I popped out to let his mama know we weren’t going to make it to class and why.  Fred’s mom, who is never one to give up, immediately offered Fred’s extra suit if we didn’t mind using trunks as well as one of their swim diapers.  SAVED!  We grabbed the suit, got changed, and had an awesome class and I really wish I could end the story there . . .
IMG_2610But alas, after class, with my sweet Sunshine all wrapped up in her towel (hey, at least we had towels, right?), I realized that her after class diaper was also missing.  Thankfully, Fred and his mama were still there.  They gave us a diaper and we were back in business, all dressed, and ready for snack . . . except that I’d brought her frozen blueberries, which make a great snack when they’re frozen.  These, once frozen, but frozen no longer berries were a dark purple, puddle just waiting to ruin absolutely everything they splattered on.

My Sunshine began to cry, because of course, babies are always hungry after swim class and that’s when sweet Fred shared his Cheerios and we were finally able to conclude what was one of the most ridiculous mornings of my life as a mother.  Fortunately for me and for my girl, Fred and his mama are not judgemental.  We all laughed it off together and our morning was not ruined for any of the reasons that it might have been.

Moral of the story?  When you see a mom who’s got it together, say something nice to her.  When you see a mom whose day is falling apart before your eyes, say something nice to her, too, and if you have the power to help, help without judgement.  A kind word can work wonders . . . as can a loaner swimsuit, swim diaper, regular diaper, and Cheerios!  My sweet Sunshine and I really do have the best friends.  : )IMG_2614

Firsts and Lasts

On By JesseIn Life, Sunshine, Thoughts, Writing1 Comment

I nursed you for the very first time on a sunny, Sunday morning in July.  You’d been here less than an hour, but seemed to know what you needed.  Your father stood by watching over, nurses came in and out of the room, and I answered questions here and there, but even so, it was somehow just the two of us.

I nursed you for the very last time on a rainy Sunday in February.  You were eighteen months–some might say too old, some might say too young, but for us, it was perfect.  It was quiet and we were alone, watching the sunlight fade away from the living room window as water drops ran down the glass.

Now, I’m sitting here thinking about firsts and lasts.  All at once so happy and proud of how you are growing up and so unbearably sad that this beautiful time we’ve shared must come to an end.

It’s a feeling I know well a year and a half into being your mother.  I will never forget the first time I went to put you into a pair of newborn sized, footie pajamas and you simply didn’t fit.  Your little shoulders were pushing at the neckline and your tiny (but not so tiny as before) toes were bent against the ends of the footies.

It was an amazing and terrible moment.  I sat on the floor of the bedroom in our apartment and cried and cried.  You were only six weeks old!  How did it happen so fast???  Since then, I can’t even count the number of times you’ve grown out of something I specifically remember looking at and thinking it would take forever for you to grow into.

I love being your mama.  I am so proud of your curiosity, intelligence, strength, and independence.  It’s been my absolute pleasure to give you every opportunity I can to learn so you can do life on your own one day.  And it’s heartbreaking having to say goodbye to a version of you I love so deeply and will never see again without looking at a photograph.

That said, my sweet Sunshine, every time my heart is broken in goodbye, it’s put back together with love that just gets bigger and more as you get bigger and more.  Regardless of how much or little you ever need me, I will always be here.    After all, if you and I are anything like me and my mother (that’s Granny Bee, to you), you’ll be calling about how to make the biscuits, how to get that stain out, and just for giggles over mimosas long after you’re out in the world, making your own way.  : )

IMG_6091

My Prayer

On By JesseIn Life, Sunshine1 Comment

Before you read this post, I’d like to make it clear that in no way am I saying adoptive parents cannot love their children as much as biological parents or that fathers cannot love their children as much as mothers can.  This post is about the depth and breadth of the connection between a parent and their child.  How you come into that connection is of no consequence to me.  I just happen to be writing it from a mother’s perspective, because, well, that’s what I am and so that’s what I know.  Enjoy!  : )

.  .  .

My connection to you was instant.  When you were born and they placed you on my belly, I could only say “oh, honey” over and over again.  I had one hand on your sticky back and another around your tiny bottom and no moment in my life has ever felt so precious as that one.  I carry that crystal clear memory in my heart, another copy in my soul, and yet another copy in my mind, to ensure it’s never lost.

My understanding of that sweet, unbearably strong connection has taken more time.  I have slowly come to realize the true magnitude of the job on my shoulders and instead of feeling overwhelmed or terrified, I see that no one on this earth could possibly do it better than me.

This feeling–this lovely, silent secret known only to us, enables me to show you unconditional love so you will recognize it and can give it yourself one day.  It makes me the one you trust first and most and gives me the patience and determination to take care of that trust so you will know how it feels and be trustworthy yourself one day.   It fills me with a grace unlike anything I’ve felt before (since I was a child myself and felt it from my own mother and father, that is)–a grace I give you every day with soft eyes and gentle hands so that you will understand how to both give and receive forgiveness one day.  That is the terrible beauty of parenthood–beautiful because there is no bond stronger, that can accomplish so much and terrible because I have never experienced such awful fear as my fear at the thought of losing or being lost to you.

That is my only prayer, my only wish these days–that you and I get to keep each other.  It happens all the time, just watch the news–mothers who have lost their children and children who have lost their mothers.  We are fortunate to have such an amazing, loving, and dependable village.  I know that if anything were to happen to me you would know love, you would be treasured, and raised well . . . but it wouldn’t be the same.  And I cannot even contemplate losing you in words.  There’s a great, black hole in my mind where that horror lives and I never look directly at it for fear of giving it substance.

When they strike, these fears, I imagine all of the adventures we have yet to go on, all of the memories we’re going to make, all of things I’m going to tell you, and all of the things you’re going to tell me.  And then I send it up, the same prayer every time:

Please, God, let us keep each other . . .

1

Where the Time Went . . .

On By JesseIn Life, Sunshine3 Comments

 

 

 

July 2016
July 2016

August 2016
August 2016

September 2016
September 2016

 

October 2016
October 2016

November 2016

 

Deccember 2016
December 2016

 

January 2017
January 2017

 

February 2017
February 2017

 

March 2017
March 2017

 

April 2017
April 2017

 

May 2017
May 2017

 

June 2017
June 2017

 

July 2017
July 2017

 

 

 

 

Memories

On By JesseIn Life, Sunshine3 Comments

My sweet Sunshine, you are currently rifling through a box full of spices in the kitchen, tasting some containers before dropping them at your feet, while others are tossed over your shoulder without so much as a cursory glance.  I’m not certain of your criteria, but you do seem to have a system.  I love to watch you explore–touching and tasting absolutely everything–cataloguing your environment with the precision and care of a scientist.

I folded and put away most of your nine month footies today because the necklines are beginning to stretch and your tiny toes are pressing uncomfortably against the feet.  It hurts every time–putting away bits of the present that somehow, without my noticing right away, became the past.  It is so strange that these moments which are molding and redefining me as a person and a mother, you will not remember.

You will not remember how I shrieked with joy when you took your first, wobbly steps or how I cried in relief and squeezed you tight after fishing that wad of drool-soaked paper out of your mouth.  You will not remember crawling around the yard, picking dandelions and trying to eat pebbles under my watchful eye.  You will not remember dancing in front of the oven door, giggling at your reflection.  You will not remember the way you turn diaper changes into the baby version of a greased pig contest.  You will not remember throwing all the spices out of the box.  And you will not remember your silly mama, sitting at the kitchen table, crying while she writes you love letters from your babyhood.

And oh how I love you, my baby.  Though our time together this way is short, one day, in the not so distant future, we’ll be making memories you can keep.  Until then, I will continue writing (and crying) you a path back through the years to the curious, determined, and much-loved baby you are so that while you may not remember, you can at least have a glimpse of your sweet, small self through your mama’s eyes.

spiceexplorer

We

On By JesseIn Life, SunshineLeave a comment

Some of us have c-sections
and some of us labor.

Some of us do not have epidurals
and some of us do.

Some of us give birth
and some of us become parents in other ways.

Some of us put together nurseries
and some of us make room for our babies in our beds.

Some of us bottle feed and
some of us breast feed.

Some of us sleep train
and some of us are sleep trained.

Some of us go to work to provide
and some of us stay home to provide.

Some of us use cloth diapers
and some of us use disposables.

Some of us make up our minds
only to have them changed by experience.
And some of us make up our minds
only to have them changed by circumstance.

Some of us do a little bit of all these things.
Others across the world do very few.

Yet, even with the varied paths we take,
we are the same–
Bonded across oceans of difference
by our incomparable love
for our children.

Morning Mama Thoughts

On By JesseIn Life, Sunshine, Thoughts2 Comments

My favorite thing about her ability to crawl and stand up is watching her choose where she would like to go and what she would like to do when she gets there.  She used to be limited to where we put her or what toys we presented her with, and now another layer of her personality is coming through.

My least favorite thing about her ability to crawl and stand up is that there are now roughly 10,762 new and exciting ways for her to accidentally maim/injure/kill herself.  I have nicknamed her “suicidal octopus” because I swear she has eight, lightning-fast arms and they’re all reaching for something dangerous!

We are getting closer to the end of nursing and I’m both excited and sad.  On one hand, I will be SO happy to be able to wear whatever I want without thinking about how hard/easy it will be to nurse in.  On the other hand, because my wild child is always on the go, nursing time has been our snuggle time and I wonder if/how she will snuggle when there’s no need to stop and snack in my arms.

I think about my parents all the time.  Having a child of my own puts an entirely different spin on so many of my memories.  Like when I was twelve and I was riding my horse bareback, with a bridle I made out of baling twine and jumping the irrigation canal/all the irrigation pipe in the field.  If I remember right, my dad was supposed to be watching me, but he had to go handle a work emergency so mom came to pick me up.  She was terrified of horses and I remember seeing her white knuckles on the fence as we thundered up the way.  I have always thought that story was hilarious.  Now I can actually imagine the worry and fear she must have felt that I would be hurt.  To my  mother’s credit, she did not punish me; she signed me up for jumping lessons.  : )

Another hilarious thinking of my mom moment came when I was exiting the restroom and passed a woman and her young son going in together.  It struck me for the very first time that my mother actually taught me to use the bathroom!!!!  Thanks, mom.  : )

I am so happy to finally be in a permanent living space.  Every situation we’ve been in since she was born has been temporary.  She’s been shuttled across the country multiple times, spent countless hours in the car while we looked for vehicles, then apartments, then houses.  She seems pretty happy wherever we are, but I think she’ll feel the difference as we get settled.

A lovely friend sent me a lovely book (The Magic of Motherhood) and though it’s hard to find time to read, my favorite line from the early chapters is, “Your body will be a home to your children.”  How very true.  My body doesn’t look or feel quite the way it did before my Sunshine came along but there is no place where she feels as safe and comfortable as my arms.  No other body will do, it’s only mine that gives her such peace and security–how beautiful is that?

She is swinging in the living room, fast asleep while I sip coffee and write.  Occasionally, I look up and her face swings into view.  If I had known before getting pregnant just how much I would feel as a mother, I might have chosen another path.  It’s frightening sometimes, the depth and breadth of it.  What I know now that she’s here is that I’d feel it all a thousand times for just one of her sunny smiles.

foreheads