Love at first sight.

For nineteen years I have held this secret; a secret that, for many years, I thought defined me as a parent. Here goes…I did not have an outpouring of love when my first child was born. There, I said it! I was a total wreck after labor and delivery and I was too spent to feel anything but exhaustion.

I am, in no way, saying my labor and delivery was difficult. Compared to many, it was easy. Sure, my blood pressure was elevated, which precipitated my being induced. Because I had high blood pressure and was hooked up to the pitocin drip, I was not allowed to get up and walk around to ease the labor pains.

I was at the hospital at 6:00 a.m. and the IV line was put in at 7:30 a.m. By 9:00 a.m., I was having full-blown contractions, three minutes apart. My husband, bless his heart, would look at the monitor and let me know that “a big” contraction was coming! Thank you very much, I think I was aware of the upcoming pain. The pains became so intense that during the down time of the contractions, I began to hyperventilate. By the time I regained my regular breathing, another contraction was coming on. There just was not enough time to recover from the onset of the contraction, through the hyperventilation and on to the next contraction. By 11:00 a.m., the nurse said it was too difficult for me and I needed to consider an epidural. I WANTED TO DO THIS WITHOUT DRUGS!!!! But the nurse was right; there was no way I could continue labor this way.

Our son was born at 1:16 a.m. If you do the math, I had between 350 and 400 intense contractions during the time that labor was induced. I had told the doctor that I wanted to avoid a C-Section at all costs but it became very apparent that I was not going to be able to deliver him without help. Out came the forceps and with a little help that way, he was delivered.

After his delivery, I was given oxygen because I could not catch my breath. Looking back, I am pretty sure my body was in shock. I was not in good shape at that time. It had been a hard and grueling day.

I had envisioned the birth of our first child so differently. I imagined my new baby being placed on my chest and being filled with love. NOPE, that did not happen. I was so tired, I just wanted to sleep. I felt guilty that I wasn’t overwhelmed with love, that I didn’t feel that immediate bonding. I feared that my first foray as a mother was going to define me forever.

Things didn’t get better. I just wanted to get home to my own bed, the new nursery, the comforts that made our house a home. Our son was born on a Saturday and by Sunday afternoon, I was on my way home. I felt great! I had rested some and I was ready to tackle my new role as mother.

Sunday, December 31st, I was home to celebrate New Year’s Eve. I don’t even know if I had sparkling juice, but it didn’t matter, I was home. Then came January 1st! I woke up and was in severe pain. I thought I would be a trooper but I couldn’t get passed the pain. I needed to get the pain medication prescription filled. My husband went into town only to find all of the pharmacies were closed. Luckily, he saw a car in the parking lot of our pharmacy and knocked on the back door. The owner (head pharmacist) was doing year-end inventory and was more than happy to fill my prescription. (Remember this was 19 years ago, 24 hour pharmacies did not exist)

January 2nd my husband had to go back to work (no Family Medical Leave Act back then either). That meant my mom would come out and spend the week with me. She was a blessing when things were tough.

On January 2nd my son had his first visit with our new pediatrician. In 3 days our son had lost over a pound in weight and I was frantic that my breast-feeding was not going well. He was supposed to be eating every 2-2.5 hours and that just was not happening. And then to find out he was losing weight. I was going to be a horrible mother! For the first few months of his life, so many people said he looked so thin. I was struggling with breast-feeding and then people were telling me how skinny my child was. There seemed to be more and more evidence that I would be an inadequate mother.

January 3rd, I made an “emergency” visit to my doctor because my right breast was bright red and there was a huge lump forming. A biopsy was performed to see if it was something more than a clogged milk duct. To this day, I see that scar every morning and it is a reminder of how rough things were in the start. In general, I was still in really bad shape. (Sometimes, to this day, it can still be painful.)

Things did get better, but my son weaned himself from the breast at four and a half months. I felt I was such a bad mom as I couldn’t even provide my child the nourishment he needed. He preferred formula over me. It was another indication, I thought, that I would not be a good mother. Transitioning from formula, to cereal, to baby food, to “human” food was a challenge.

We went on to have another child, a girl. And while I wanted more, God had other plans. We are so blessed to have the two we have. And I try to think that I have been a good mother. I have been open to conversation about anything and I try to be understanding in all situations. I am a mother, not their friend. I have expectations of their manners in public and at home and I hope that their core values will help them make an impact in the lives of the people with whom they associate.

I love my children more than life itself. I am glad that I did not allow the first few days, or the first few months of my first born’s life, define who I am . If I would have allowed that, I would have not seen the potential in the gifts I have to offer, or the future I see for my family. I would have wallowed in the pain and inferior sense I had as a first time mother.

Do not let a few things define who you are. As we get ready to start a new year in 2015, find what you do well and excel, find a cause or a hobby which you want to learn and participate, take time to drink good wine, eat good food and love those around you. Don’t let your past define you, but let your future guide you to be the best.

I did not have that love at first sight experience with my son. But every time I see him now, which is few and far between as he is at college, my heart swells with pride as to the man he has become. My eyes fill with tears of joy at his future. I know that I had a part in helping him be who he is now. I know that my love is deep, for both of my children. And I know that I have done all I could for them to have a bright future.

Bless you and your family on this final day of 2014.

The Power of a Day

I am amazed how certain days bring about certain feelings; how giddy I am, to this day, when my birthday comes around; how happy I am on my anniversary; or how January 1st makes me think about starting anew.

Years ago, I swore off making New Year’s Resolutions. The theory behind it was that I should try to improve throughout the year and it shouldn’t begin one time a year.

When I decided to lose weight, it began on September 20th. When I accepted Jesus Christ into my life, it was in the fall, not at the beginning of the year. I was engaged on April 1st and married on April 15th. So you see, there have been no major changes in my life that began on January 1st.

So even though I do not make New Year’s Resolutions, I can’t help to think that the beginning of a new year is special. It may not be a resolution, but it is a change.

My change this year has to do with where I spend my time writing. It is a wonderful change but did not come about because I felt I needed a change but because I was being selfish. And maybe selfish is not the correct word, but maybe the correct word will come to me by the end.

I have a family of hunters. I am not a hunter but everyone else in the family is either using a rifle or a bow to help provide food for the family. And that is totally serious; anything that is shot is eaten. (That was another adjustment I needed to make when I became married as I did not grow up with hunting. Getting used to eating and, more importantly, cooking game meat, was a challenge for me.) But I digress!

About November 1st all of the hunting clothes come out and take over my bedroom. They are in storage tubs and stay there until the end of January. While I have gotten used to, and enjoy, game meat, I do not like my bedroom filled with camouflage clothing. I do not like having to look at it from November 1st until February 1st. I needed to find a solution.

My office/craft room was the room next to my husband’s office. It also doubles as the guest room. It is a large room and should have been a great place for an office/craft room because I could have my quilt project out and not have it interfere with my desk. But it never quite felt right. It seemed cold and not conducive to creativity.

I made the decision to give up my nice, spacious, office so the hunters could have a place to store all of their gear in one spot, out of my way. This meant that I needed to find a new spot for me.

It did not take me long to realize I needed to move back to the spot where I felt creative and safe and secure, the attic. I had used this space as my sewing room for quite some time. But when I lost my office due to a remodel, I moved both rooms together. Now I was putting the rooms back together, but in a much more “homey” spot.

My father made my little room about ten years ago. He finished about 25% of the attic by adding a wall and then insulating and paneling the walls and ceiling. This gave me a dressing room which then turned into my sewing room. Years ago, that room was where I went when I was sad. It turned into my sewing room and is a nice get-a-way spot. When I moved to another part of the house. It was a nice room but it was not quite the same.

Now I am back to my small room with its low ceiling (6 1/2 foot). Being short, having a short ceiling is not a problem. Maybe the “dog” in me is coming out. It is said that dogs feel safe and secure in small enclosed spaces. I feel safe and secure in this space and I am glad to be back.

While I do not make New Year’s Resolutions, I am glad that I decided I needed to make a change in my life. I am glad that I have moved back to a place that feels safe and I can get those creative juices flowing. I hope that everyone has a chance to feel that safeness and security, if only because of a room, that I feel now.

Signs of aging?

We are all aging. We have no other option. Well… the only option that exists is not acceptable to healthy, active individuals – death.  I will never say that death is not an option when there are people out there that are terminal and their time is drawing near. I know that, 20 years ago, when my grandmother was dying from ovarian cancer, I prayed that she die and be at peace and whole again in heaven. BUT, I digress.

forgetfulness, that is my issue right now. It is not the, ‘Oh, I came into this room, what is it that I wanted?’ For me, it seems I am misplacing things or having something in my hand one minute and then absent-mindedly putting it down and then not knowing what I did with the item. And it seems to happening more. And it is driving me crazy because I can’t imagine what my life will be like in five or 10 or 20 years if I am failing this quickly.

Am I getting old or is it that I have too much running through my brain, too much going on in my life that my brain cannot, or refuses to keep it all organized? I would like to think that is my problem not that my brain is going to mush. I like to think that I, as well as many Americans, have taken on too many things and that my mind can’t do all of that multi-tasking. I am pretty sure that things that I am doing are going into short-term memory and shorter term memory and so when I hop from one thing to another, it gets lost.

Years ago, I stopped making New Year’s resolutions. I took on the responsibility of trying to be a better person because that is the right thing to do, not because I resolved to do it on New Year’s Day. It just so happens that at this time of the year, I have been misplacing things more often. In trying to get ready for Christmas, my son’s birthday, going on a winter vacation, I have had a few problems with being absent-minded. I believe it is just not thinking, not that I am getting old, senile, or Alzheimer’s. I have had way too much on my mind.

So, I have decided that I need to be in the moment and not elsewhere at whatever I am doing. That way, when I am organizing my basement and put down my coffee cup, I don’t forget where I put it. And btw, that is what happened on Wednesday, I put down my 24 oz. coffee mug, a very large mug, and it took me ten minutes to find it on my pantry shelf in the basement. I am going to start making lists again, which is how I lived my life before children. So I guess if you call that a resolution, since it is close to the first of the year, I am making a resolution.

“I resolve, to be in the moment and to slow my brain down. I resolve to be better organized through list-making. I plan to make better use of my time which will not make me feel like I need to rush from thing to another. While I may be busy, I resolve to make it manageable through organization. If I find that I am still losing things, I will either #1  work on cutting back what I do or #2 see if there is something physiologically wrong with me.”

Signs of aging, I hope not; I hope it is signs of disorganization and too much multi-tasking.