Who They Are to Me.

Originally posted to my personal blog: Rockets, Swords, & Shields on November 15, 2012.

In the last couple years, a lot has happened. A lot…and to be honest, I’ve been trying to figure out how to process it the whole time but there hasn’t really been a pause to finish reacting to one thing before the next begins. What I’ve realized in the last few months though – and finally figured out how to put into words tonight… is who my sons are to me. They’re my war buddies. The buddy part of that makes it sound cutesy – but it’s not. When I was pregnant with Owen, I went through hell. Constantly and for every part of my pregnancy with him, I was in hell. There were very few good moments and a host of bad ones including twice almost having to have him delivered early. It was with him that I learned what it is to have a friend in an unborn child, because he was suffering everything I was – he knew me, he had my blood flowing through him … he was literally a part of my physical being. He was the only one who truly understood what I was going through because it was happening to him too. When he was born and he was placed in my arms while they wheeled me out of the operating room, my first words to him were, “Hey Buddy.” I had always thought that was strange since I had called him so many things but that for my whole pregnancy; Spawn, Alien, Monkey, Owen – never not once did I refer to him as Buddy, but when I saw him – I knew that’s what he was. I don’t call him that all the time, but it is a name I have continued to give to him for the past 22 months. He has been with me for every single bad day and horrible moment I’ve experienced in the last two years – when I have needed comfort or something to make me happy again despite what was happening, he has been there to cuddle with me and he has always been able to make me feel better…even if it was just in that one small space of my heart.

This year being pregnant with Mac brought me the positive experience in pregnancy that everyone talks about. There was little to no discomfort or problems … until there were. We had two big scares this year – one for me and one for Mac. With Cormac, I went through hell for 4 days while we waited to find out results from a test after a doctor had seen a marker for Down’s Syndrome. I waited in that hell alone with Owen while Corey was out of town for work. The same week we had that scare – we were told I had abnormal cell growth that could be precancerous on my uterus and that it could amount to nothing, or the hormones of my pregnancy could push it to become full-blown cancer - and regardless they couldn't act for another 6 months until after Mac was born and I was healed. So that week was my week to cry, to find comfort in my Buddy in my arms, and to realize I was going to have a second war buddy – because while it was less hectic, this was sure as hell a new war that Mac and I were fighting together. Mac turned out to be fine obviously, and while I had to go through the rest of my pregnancy and wait until after his birth to check the cells again, as of right now it appears that I’m okay and I’ll be meeting with and getting a plan for the future from an oncologist tomorrow...and during and after that appointment as with many that came before it, it’s my sons who will be there to comfort me until Corey comes home again.

I have two sons that I spend more hours with than anyone else in the world with now, my husband included. They’re not my friends in the sense that Corey, Brittany, Shaina, or any of my other friends are – but they know me in a way none of you ever would be able to. We’ve been through hell together, and they’re the only ones who not only were a part of my being in the past, they have a piece of me in them still. A piece that makes it physically hard for me to be a part from them or see them in pain – and this, I know, is motherhood…but it’s something else too. It’s the bond that comes from going through a war with someone and only they were there to know what it was like. That’s who my sons are to me – before they have grown into little boys or eventually men – they’re my war buddies. They’re not only the cause of my scars and stretch marks…they’re the reason it was worth it.

For Us Mamas.

Originally posted to my personal blog: Rockets, Swords, & Shields on May 13, 2012.

 

First, let’s start with the obvious – happy Mother’s Day! : ) I am privileged to know and share my life with some incredibly inspiring mothers, and for that I am grateful every day. I’ve written about some of them in the past but believe me that there are many more. My sister, Kristi, who is a wonderful mother to one of the cutest little girls I could ever ask to have as a niece; my good friend, Amanda, who is an amazing dedicated mom to two kids that are fantastically bright; a girlfriend named Catherine, who embraces attachment parenting in a most beautiful way with her daughter and has been a wonderful personal channel for me to widen my own views of understanding (for which I will always be thankful); and definitely surprising to her – my beautiful friend, Whitney, who is also the Godmother of my son – though she is not a mother to her own children yet, she is a wonderful  woman and member of my son’s world, one that I completely believe will be like the second mother to Owen that every kid needs. I’ve been blessed to have my own second mother and could never thank God enough for her presence in my life for the last 13 years. All of these women – along with those who are not mothers but none the less open their hearts to my son in a way that I believe only a Mom can, makes them mothers in my eyes. Shaina and my sister Brittany – who hold and love Owen with the same adoration that I feel in my own heart, who will be some of the best Aunts in the world. All of these women impress upon me the beauties of motherhood while at the same time showing how little it matters which strategy of parenting you might go with. What matters is your love for the kid in your life…regardless of if they are yours or not.

Which brings me to the next thing I wanted to write about…the oh-so-well-known TIME cover for this week.

 

Corey and I subscribe to TIME so we were able to read the article as always. My issue, in all honesty, is not with the article or its subject matter, while I don’t still breastfeed Owen – I don’t have any issues with it at all, it simply didn’t work out that way for us. Owen still occasionally sleeps in bed with Corey and I, as he has since we brought him home as a newborn. I don’t always let him cry for long periods of time, but I also rarely will immediately run to comfort him as soon as he starts to shed a tear – specifically when it relates to bedtime. When he falls and hurts himself, my initial reaction is to smile at him and laugh to let him know he’s okay. I have not childproofed my house, and don’t plan to (mind you there aren’t any exposed outlets for him to get to as it is) because I plan on him learning why he shouldn’t play with certain things rather than hiding them from him. I keep my books within his dangerous reach so that he will learn to love them with his whole heart as I do and to associate them with his perception of home. When he picks up a book, I sit with him and help him turn the pages, look at the words and read random passages so he sees that books are fun and don’t have to be filled solely with pictures as his bedtime books are. I let him feel the paper and understand the delicacy of the pages to that he knows they are special. I do not follow a specific set of rules – and I don’t ever plan to in the future. I parent the way that fits our family and the way that feels right. I hug my son and kiss him as I will for the rest of his life. I let him know that while I won’t race to make things better for him, I will always be there with a kiss and a band-aid when necessary.

The point I’m trying to make – and thing about this cover which irks me (it took me all week to really be able put my finger on it) – is the headline. ‘Are You Mom Enough?’ What does that mean? I read a comment this morning on a blog that put my response succinctly and perfectly: “If you are a mom, you are plenty mom enough.” I told a friend of mine earlier this week that I don’t like the term ‘enough’ because it continues this stupid implication that there is, in fact, a right way to parent. Or that some choices are better than others. That is what makes this weird passive aggressive war continue like it has for decades. How I’ve had everyone from relatives to friends to other moms at daycare to complete and total strangers offer advice to me about how I need to change what I choose to do with Owen because it’s wrong and their way is right. Rather than parents being a universal community where we share our ideas and views in a helpful way like sharing secret cooking tips, we hold it over each other like someone is a failure at parenting when they don’t ascribe to our parenting vision. We act self-righteous and treat others as though their naïve ideas are so sadly inept they just ‘must not know any better’. Like the blog I mentioned before – if you’re a Mom, you ARE Mom enough. End of discussion. A girlfriend of mine posted just this morning a picture of her two stepsons with a caption explaining a small window into her relationship with them – a small quote of it was so perfect, I’m going to share it to further show my point.

"It’s obvious I’m not their biological mother.....they look nothing like me. But inside them, they’ve got my heart. I’ve put more time and effort into them than I have anything else in life - they make me so proud of the little people they’re turning into. I won’t give up on them, give them up, or leave their side - they were meant for me and I for them. Some people might call me their “stepmom” - but I'll be the first to say that name doesn’t do our relationship justice. They are mine, I am theirs, and no “name” will ever come close to describing what we are to one other.”

They are mine and I am theirs. Isn’t THAT what being a parent/mom is about? It shouldn’t be about competing with each other. It’s about doing the best you can for that little person in front of you who needs help growing into the adult they’ll inevitably become. Helping them because you have no other choice not out of duty but because your happiness is so completely wrapped up in theirs that you can’t stop yourself from doing what you can to show them the way into adulthood. You know that one day you’ll have to let them go and feel your heart and soul tear away into a separate existence so you hold them close when you can and do your best to show them they really are tough enough to make it when you aren’t there so that when the time comes you aren’t – they will have the confidence to know how awesome they are.

So yeah, TIME, I am Mom Enough. And so is every other Mom I know. Thanks for asking.