Memorable Sunday

Sunday was a memorable day for me because that is the day Ruby took her first steps. Three staggering steps straight to Grandma's arms. Tears immediately. It was awesome. Ruby was pretty proud of herself.

Also, Sunday, Thor was over and wearing his cowboy hat. Ruby was a little "shy" of him and when he came near, the grip she had on my shirt tightened noticeably. She just stared at him and barely smiled. At one point, though, she was on the floor standing next to the chair. When she had her back turned, Thor crouched down and started to approach her. When Ruby turned around, she saw him getting close. Her eyes got HUGE, her whole body shook, and her legs turned to absolute rubber! She clawed her way and raised her arms to me as her legs wobbled back and forth. It was so hilarious! She didn't cry but she looked like she was trying to walk with spaghetti noodles for legs. Once I had her in my arms, she grinned at Thor a little learily like, "I know the games you play."

That's one thing about my girl... she doesn't often cry when scared. Usually if we play "Gonna Getcha" and I try to chase her, she shrieks, laughs, and then whips around to tackle me! She doesn't run. Or if she comes around a corner, and I'll crouch on the floor to be eye-level with her to startle her, she busts out laughing and attacks. I've never seen a kid do that before. She's so amazing.

Smile

The nice thing about eating lunch at work is that I get to eat my applesauce. When I eat applesauce at home, if Ruby even detects the notion that I'm thinking of eating some applesauce sometime in the near future, she is all over me like white on rice. From there, I am forced to "share" my applesauce, which actually means that I get to smell it as I feed it to Ruby. If I try to sneak a bite, she howls and grabs for the spoon like it's a lifeline.

I don't blame you, Ruby. I love applesauce too.

Funk

Today was a rough day. I try not to complain or be negative, especially on any social network, but the yuck is building lately and I'm finding myself in a funk. The kind of funk where it's easy to sleep all day and yet impossible to sleep at night. It's a nasty, vicious downward spiral and I am fighting it tooth and nail. I thought maybe I would step out of my comfort zone and write why today was so hard for me.

1. This morning, I read a post by one of my favorite bloggers about the birth story of her son, who was born on Valentine's Day. My heart nearly broke when the envy bubbled up. I am so very, very happy for this woman. She has a wonderful, loving husband. Two daughters, two stepsons, and now a brand new baby boy. Her delivery room was filled with her family and friends. It was a joyous welcome to a special baby boy. It was a healthy 9-month pregnancy, a by-the-book delivery. She took her son home two days after he was born. I think about Ruby's birth, how terrified and angry I was. How chaotic, rushed, scary, bewildering... Besides the plethora of nurses, doctors, EMTs, NICU nurses and doctors, I was alone when Ruby was born. I didn't have my Mom or anyone who knew and loved me with me to share the terror or the joy. My baby was delivered and immediately taken across the room so her vitals could be checked. People scurried about and I couldn't catch a glimpse of her. They didn't even give me the chance to look at her much less hold her. When I kept shouting, "My baby! My baby!" one nurse finally raised Ruby up so I could get a glance at her before they rushed her to the NICU. My mom finally came in and when I was cleaned up, the NICU doctor came to tell me that my daughter, although she was fine, would have to be admitted to the NICU for 2 to 3 weeks. I was in shock. I was scared. When I went to the NICU a while later, to really see Ruby, she was tied up with tubes and IVs and in an incubator. I couldn't even hold her. I passed out. I'm sure it was the shock and devastation as much as it was the loss of blood from delivery. How I cried and cried the first days of Ruby's life.... I try to not feel cheated when I think about Ruby's birth, I try to not feel that Ruby was cheated, but I can't help it. I had dreamed of welcoming her in a peaceful environment. Of having family there to share my joy and pass her around the room so everyone could celebrate with me this miracle God blessed me with. That her first hours would be filled with kisses and snuggles and warm, tender voices of her family. It hurts to have missed out on that. I think of the following 3 weeks, of running back and forth to the hospital, leaving my baby there every night, failing to produce milk to breastfeed, the tears, the stress, the longing and aching to bring her home. The feeling that I was so completely powerless to make her stronger to bring her home... it aches. I try not to think of it too much. Usually, when I do think about it, I feel strong. Courageous. But after I hear about how fortunate other mothers are to have uncomplicated pregnancies and births... it makes me sad and jealous.

2. My mom stayed with me this weekend. I was also able to see my dad and brother briefly. This is always hard because when the weekend is over and they go home, I miss them terribly. I miss my family. My circle of friends and family in GF has shrunk drastically and I feel like my support network has dwindled. I need the support of my loved ones, more now than ever.

3. Work was incredibly difficult. Full of deadlines and grumbling.

4. Legal stuff. This stuff has dragged on for a year now. One full year of complete nonsense, disagreements, mind-changing, and absolutely NO PROGRESS. The stress of it nearly eats me alive some days. If it was just about me, yeah, whatever. I can deal with that. But this is about Ruby and her future and I can't do anything to jeapordize it. Haven't things been difficult enough for her? When is ENOUGH, ENOUGH? I would do absolutely anything in my power to give her the life she deserves, and that is why I continue on this battle. But I am getting so very, very tired of it. Weary to my very bones... I'm tired of fighting and defending myself, when typically no defending should be necessary. I'm tired of defending my name and reputation, and always watching my back. This is no way to live. But I'll do it, I'll do it every day for the rest of my life if it means that Ruby is happy and healthy and living the life she deserves. But I want this over. I am tired of being angry and hurt and confused and bewildered. I have never been treated so horribly in my whole entire life and all of this evil nastiness is new to me. Yes, I will admit it, I am incredibly naive. I have been in so many ways, but I would rather be naive than jaded, and that's just what I'm becoming. I'm becoming distrustful and bitter and so very angry. That's not me. I don't want to become this way. And, usually I'm not. I'm just feeling this way tonight because there was more legal news today that sent me into a funk. Most days I can stay optimistic and hopeful and FAITHFUL. But tonight, I just feel defeated.

5. I'm so tired of being fat, feeling fat, looking fat. I'm tired of buying huge clothes and examining my back fat in a mirror. I'm tired of being angry and annoyed with myself for not making the right changes. I'm annoyed with myself for drinking energy drinks and eating chips for breakfast when it just makes me feel super crappy. For forgetting my vitamins and making excuses to not exercise. I'm tired of having an aching back when I know it's my weight and lack of exercise that make it so. I know what I need to do, yet I do the complete opposite and it makes me feel worse about myself. Stupid.

6. The hurt is just so deep. I feel it today, when most days I don't or if I do, I can talk myself out of it. When I feel like this, I remember all the bad, yucky things from my past and they all resurface and sit like lead on my heart.

A hot shower and good night's sleep will cure most of this. Tomorrow I will wake up feeling better. I'll make an appointment with Marty and talk it out.

But for now, to help me sleep tonight, I'll resort to my method of finding little things to be grateful for or happy about today:

1. Slush. The temperature was 30°F today and there was slush in the streets. It's the first tease of spring. So exciting.
2. Ruby was in a super good mood today. I had brought her to bed with me at 4:00 this morning, and when I woke up at 6:00, she was tucked tightly to my side with her head under my chin. Her compact little body was warm and smelled her beautiful sleepy-Ruby smell. She woke, rolled over to kiss me, and then proceeded to climb all over me saying "Hi! Hi!" I can't think of a better way to start the day.
3. I read for a few minutes this evening. Reading is one of those things that fills me up.
4. The day is done. Work is done. Dishes are done. Vitamins done. Coffee for the morning ready. Ruby tucked into bed. Toys picked up. Now, just a shower and climb into bed. Tomorrow will be a better day.
5. God loves me. God loves Ruby. "Go to sleep in peace. God is awake."

True dat

Valentine's Day

Today is Valentine's Day and I may be about the most unromantic person you could know. I never used to be this way, but in the past two years, I have learned more about myself and about the male species than I care to have ever known.

>>Disclaimer: When I talk about men, in no way am I talking about the men in my family. My father and brothers are a rare breed of kind, generous, respectful men. I think all the ladies in their lives are aware of that and are grateful for them. As am I.<<

I won't voice my opinions about men and their stereotypes, not because I'm afraid to offend anyone, but because I know that how I feel about the majority of men is not how ALL men are. It isn't fair to lump the scuzz-buckets with the good guys. Also, how I feel about men now may not be how I feel about them in 6 months or 5 years.

I will say, though, that the good guys are very, very few and far in between. I think both men and women would agree on that one.
.....

I had to have work done on my car, so this morning I dropped my car off at the repair shop. A gentleman (yes gentleman) in his 50s or so offered to give me a ride to work. I gratefully accepted. He walked me to his vehicle, opened the door for me and closed it when I had sat in the vehicle. He warned me that the leather seats would be cold and said to push "this" button after he started the vehicle and my seat would warm up. He drove me to work and on the way we had a nice conversation and some laughs. When we arrived at work, he wished me a great day and said he would call when the work on my car is complete.
.....

Wow. A 50-some year old man, with whom I have only a business relationship, had made me feel better than the last 3 or 4 men I dated COMBINED. He treated me respectfully, like a lady. He was funny and kind and thoughtful. Granted, our exchange happened over the course of 15 minutes but I left his presence feeling better about myself and my day. I can't say that about any of the men I dated in the past few years. Is it the huge generation gap that makes the difference? Or is it the fact that I can't pick good guys to date? I think it's both.

I have Ruby to think about now. I want only good, loving, kind people in her life and if a man can't treat me right, what would that show her? That it's ok for women to be used and abused and thrown away? NO WAY. I want her to know she's strong and wonderful as she is. She doesn't need a man to "complete" her. Oh, how I hate that saying. "He completes me" or "My better half." Makes me want to throw up. What the hell is the matter with the woman who is so unsure of herself and her abilities, that she needs a man to fill the gap? That her life can't be fulfilling or complete without a man? Or calling her man her better half? What?! Step up and make YOURSELF better. To me, it's never been that the man is the thigh and the woman is the calf to make a full leg. NO. The woman is one full, complete leg on her own. And the man is a full, complete leg on his own. Stupid analogy, but it works.

Girls need to be taught from a young age that they are strong and brilliant and have so much to give this world. They don't need a man to give them value. If anything, they should bring value to the man if they choose to have a man in their life.

So, to bring the subject back to me... It took me a long time to realize that I don't need a man in my life. Men were a great distraction from the fact that things weren't going so well for me. I obsessed and ached to find love. Pssshht. When I finally started to grow up and learn about myself, and even love myself, I realized what I want from a man... and then the sad reality is, I don't know any men that fit the description of what I would like to find in a man! Isn't that the irony!? So, I choose not to date. Unless the kind of guy I'd like to spend time with comes along, I choose not to date.

I tell you what, though, the guy I'm looking for will have to be pretty wonderful for me to sacrifice my time with Ruby to be with him. Even to get to the stage of meeting Ruby... he will have to be ah-mazing.

I know some people (MOM) will say,"Don't set your bar too high. No man can live up to your expectations."

I disagree whole-heartedly. I haven't set the bar high enough—my past dating history is evidence of that. And now, I firmly believe that if no man can live up to my expectations (Which I believe some can. I have pretty remarkable men as father, brothers, uncles, and cousins. I know great men exist.) then I don't want a man in my life. It's just not worth it to me anymore. Discovering that has given me a huge sense of peace... and, surprisingly, freedom. I'm very, very happy with my life as it is now. I have Ruby and my family and that's all I need. But, if an amazing man comes along, it would be the cherry on top. Not necessary, but I hope that I would know enough to count my many blessings.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Big girl

My sweet Ruby,

My girl is getting to be so big… The last week has been a struggle for you. Last week, daycare began transitioning you to the pre-toddler room from the infant room. You are leaving the comfort of teacher Christie and all the other wordless, immobile babies to join the “big” kids – the walkers, talkers, and independence-seekers. Those kids have minds of their own, as you are quickly learning.

The weekend before last we spent the day at Grandpa and Grandma’s house. Grandma was watching Tesa for Thor who had gone ice fishing with the other guys. Sweet little Tesa has a quiet, almost shy personality and needs some time to warm up. You, however, were not willing to give her time. You were enthralled with her. She walks! She talks! She plays! You were in her face, insisting on playing with her toys—sometimes you were content to play with her with the toys and other times you wanted the toys for yourself. You wanted her attention and studied her very closely. You thought she was wonderful, that was clear in your eyes. Tesa… didn’t quite return the love! She was hesitant and when she wasn’t running from you to the safety of Grandma, she was gently pushing you away. I tried to pull you away and explain about personal space, but you were having none of it. At one point, you and Tesa were playing tug of war over a toy, and in steely Ruby-determination, you pulled that toy from Tesa’s grasp. Tesa relinquished the toy and ran to the safety of Grandma, you looked at the toy. You had won the battle but lost the war. Watching your realization of this was hysterical, albeit concerning. You LOVED Tesa and your love knew no bounds.

Fast forward to last Monday and your first afternoon in the pre-toddler room. Not good. The roles were reversed and suddenly it was you who needed personal space. Along with afternoons of the pre-toddler room, other daycare changes too: only 1 bottle per day, all big people food, no more crib—now you have a nap mat. Lots of changes for your little, quiet life. When I arrived to the pre-toddler room on Monday to pick you up, you spotted me from across the room and your face just crumbled. You crawled as fast as your tiny body would carry you straight to my arms. You gasped and babbled and your face told me (even when your mouth couldn’t), “Mama! I’ve been holding my crap together for so long!” And the look in your eyes told me that you knew you didn’t have to hold your crap together any longer. And you didn’t. All evening you were cranky, discontent, and exhausted. That carried on throughout the week. Your teachers told me, each day, when I came to pick you up that you had a rough day. The adjustment has been tough. You aren’t napping well. But Thursday, a breakthrough. Everyone was listening to music and clapping and dancing Thursday afternoon. You got into it. You were delighted to be dancing and clapping with everyone else. After that, you relaxed and were able to venture from the teacher to search for toys and play with the other kids. Relief.

This past weekend, we stayed home. We buried ourselves at home, relishing the quiet, reading books, playing, napping long luxurious naps. It was a recovery time, a preparation for the upcoming week. You were happy. It was simply lovely spending that time with you.

This morning I was still in the shower when you awoke. You were standing in your crib when I heard you and went to get you. You had a huge grin on your face and you whispered your raspy hello. I picked you from your crib and you hugged me. A true blue hug. You wrapped your arms around my neck and laid your head on my shoulder. I buried my face in your hair as I let the tears of happiness fall. All my life has been leading me to you, preparing me for you.

You are getting to be such a big, independent girl. I can’t believe it. I am simply amazed by you each day and I count my blessings. I love you, baby girl.

All my love,

Mama


P.S. This past weekend I had to make room in your dresser for all your big girls clothes (size 18 months!) that you received for Christmas and your birthday. As I was removing receiving blankets and burp clothes from your dresser, I struggled so hard not to cry. You haven't used receiving blankets or burp clothes for many months now, but it was too difficult to pack them away because the memories of them are so vivid and a part of what my heart remembers from when you were tiny. When you were smaller, you were quite the pukey baby. It was as essential to have a burp cloth with you as it was to have milk. We went through many burp clothes a day and I always had a load of them in the washer.  Now, you have grown past the need for them and I will be the crazy woman 50 years from now with boxes of stained burp clothes packed away in her garage because the idea of selling them or giving them away is like asking me to give away a piece of my heart.