Wordless Wednesday: Happy Birthday, Baby!

Happy Birthday, little man!

Free Fallin’

The moment you entered the world, the sweet strums of guitar filled the room. The surgeons were playing some mix cd that was lying around. The moments were fleeting, I don’t quite remember hearing you cry for the first time. But I remember Tom Petty. I remember thinking, what a great song to be born to! I remember thinking, It’s cold in here! I remember thinking, when am I gonna get to hold my son?

and when I finally got to meet you, you were absolutely perfect. I stared at every little crinkle in your skin, every little feature on your soft tiny face. I couldn’t believe something so perfect could come from someone so inherently flawed.

And now, two years later, I still steal moments of time to gaze at you. Smell your hair. Tweak your nose. I still melt when you push my hair out of the way so you can lay your head on my shoulder. Your little laugh makes my heart swell. And when you cry, I want to cry.

My darling son. How the time flies.

Happy Birthday James.

On Number Two.

It will come as a surprise to exactly no one that knows me well that I have always wanted to be a mother. A former classmate recalls me stating the fact with unmatched conviction when I was in the sixth grade. I was eleven years old and still, the only thing I really wanted to do with my life was to have children. Everything else in the background or my future was diluted and blurry but I knew I wanted to be a mother and I knew I wanted to have more than one child. As an only child until the age of 10 1/2 with few cousins and even fewer close friends, I remembered thinking I didn’t want my children to feel this lonely. I didn’t want my child to grow up and think to himself “I wish I knew what it was like to have a brother/sister.” That’s not to say that my mom wasn’t an amazing mother. In fact, if she hadn’t been so amazing my thoughts on this subject would probably be the polar opposite of what they were and what they are now.

When James was born via emergency c-section, my doctor informed me I had fibroid tumors in my uterus and seemed surprised I got pregnant in the first place. With every follow-up exam I asked her to elaborate. I wanted to know how many, how large, what kind (there are at least 4 different kinds) and what kind of treatment options were available to me. None of these questions were answered. She’d shoo me out of the office with the promise that we would discuss it at a later time. She planted the roots of a terrible weed in my brain and refused to reap what she sowed. I would be lying if I didn’t tell you I spent many a night awake in bed thinking of all the terrible invaders in my body and all of the dreams they were drastically changing.

I’m going to stop here and address what always seems to be the elephant in the room whenever a woman starts lamenting that she can’t bear children. Let me state, on the record, If I were not able to have more children of my own, I would have absolutely no problem adopting a child. I would be the best mom I could possibly be even if I were not the birth mother. Would I consider adoption in the future even if I’m able to bear another child on my own? Absolutely.

I decided that I was going to see a new doctor. I decided on a local clinic that is affiliated with the Woman’s Hospital of Texas. I would see the doctor here and deliver a child in Houston, should I become pregnant. I had to reschedule the appointment three times because my body that had never worked quite right decided to start trying to work. Upon finally reporting to my appointment, I was first brought in to the doctor’s office for an interview of sorts. This was already a better appointment than I ever had with my previous doctor and I hadn’t even met her yet. After a few minutes of speaking I told her about why I left my last doctor. The new doctor understood why I was upset and promised to help put my mind at ease, even if it meant ordering an ultrasound so I could see for myself. After my exam, she sat down on her chair, looked up at me and said “Ashleigh, sometimes women can develop fibroids during their pregnancy, and then they will either disappear or shrink drastically postpartum.” I was a little confused. “Your uterus is perfectly normal and perfectly healthy. You do not have fibroids.” I proceeded to have an out of body experience. I floated to the ceiling and looked down at myself as my eyes began to water and I clasped my hands under my chin. Dr. Happiness (as she will henceforth be called unless you have a better idea) told me she saw absolutely no reason I wouldn’t be able to have baby number two this year. She wrote me a prescription for prenatal vitamins and said she hoped to see me back again soon. She paused, and added not to be afraid to come back if we find we are having trouble and want to talk about testing. In the span of a 30 minute appointment she completely erased almost every negative thought I’d ever had and made me feel bullet-proof. And I can’t tell you how much that means.

I am young. I am not even 25 years old. I’ve heard the line “Oh but you have plenty of time, why are you rushing?”. Anyone who knows me and knows me well will know that I am not your average 25 year old. I met and married the love of my life when I was barely 20 years old. I had my first child at 22. I’ll hopefully have my second child at 25. I can’t explain to you why my age doesn’t matter in this situation. It can’t and won’t be properly understood unless you take the chance to really get to know me. When you take the chance to know me, you’ll know that beyond all the silly and sarcasm is a woman who will spend her life loving her children and being the best mom she can be.

16 things I am thankful for.

I decided I was going to “cop out” and make a point form list of things I was thankful for. I couldn’t decide on a number but I was willing to do up to 50 (even if it took me all night and I started to say I was thankful for peanut M&Ms) So I tweeted for someone to pick a number between one and 50 and I would accept the first reply. The first reply was @ladybugsgrama with 16. So here it goes.

16 Things I am Thankful For.

1. Peanut M&M’s – because right now they are holding my chocolate craving from making my head explode.

2. Music.

3. That my husband does the dishes most of the time. – (even if it’s because I’ll ignore them until a] he does them or b] my house starts to smell)

4. Angelia’s boobs. What else can I say?

5. My beautiful son (even when he bites me on the boob when he hugs me. What a butthead. A beautiful butthead, nonetheless….just like his daddy)

6. Coffee. I believe this one doesn’t need an explanation.

7. Lounge pants. Because sometimes I just want to either a]be lazy or b] eat a lot.

8. Twitter. It sounds silly but I have met a lot of wonderful people on Twitter that I am proud to call my friends.

9. Zumba. I’m thankful for Zumba because when I’m finished with my peanut M&M’s and I’m through wearing my lounge pants for the sole purpose of overeating, Zumba is my damage control.

10. Lady Gaga. Because it takes another sexy confident woman who lives her life in complete excess for me to think maybe I could be a sexy confident woman. One day the lady gaga in me will be awakened and you all better watch out.

11. My husband. He is my rock. My soulmate. My cornerstone. My support. My grizzly bear. And I love him. I love him. I love him. This is the one thing I know for sure. I know that I love my husband.

12. Underestimation. I am frequently overlooked and underestimated. Many people would find this to be simply debilitating to their self worth, and I’m not going to lie, it hurts me some days too. But some days, I am thankful that I am able to change people’s perceptions of me.

13. I am extremely thankful that the experiences I’ve had in my life did not permanently turn me into a hard, empty, and bitter person.

14. I am thankful for cake. Not only because it is delicious, but also because it means I have a job.

15. I am thankful for Google.

16. I am thankful that when Robert and I are watching TV, he always hands me the remote.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!!!

Time.

I’ve spent the last few days a little “self-involved”. My mind has wandered near and far and up and down the recesses of my memories. For a few weeks now, I’d been dreading November 18th (this past wednesday) as it would be the day I would surely find out my father has cancer. I knew the phone call was coming. I couldn’t take it. When I came down with the stomach flu in the wee hours of the morning on the 18th, I was sure it was a sign of one of the worst days I’ll have had in a long time.

I spent all morning in bed. All afternoon on the sofa. I didn’t want to lie down anymore. I logged on to the computer where Yahoo! informed me that today, November 18th, was Mickey Mouse’s 81st birthday. My heart sank deep into the empty pit of my stomach as I realized. I realized that today, November 18th, was the 17th anniversary of my grandfather’s death after a long battle with cancer. I clasped one hand to my mouth and the other to my heart and I begged and pleaded with God to let the date be a coincidence. My father and I have a rocky past. It’s the same story as many children of divorce. My parents divorced when I was younger than James is now. I was the only child. I never really got the chance to know my father, and as the years went on, sometimes I didn’t want to.

At one point in my teenage years, I learned he was divorcing the mother of my half-brother. It left me completely reeling. I was already on shaky ground myself and I couldn’t bear the thought of my half-brother being put through the same song and dance I had been. I did not speak to my father for over four years. The next time I would speak to him I would announce my engagement. I felt it was only fair. I’d made so many positive strides in my life and I’d become a strong and confident woman. I felt he deserved to know that. At this juncture, my relationship with my father is tepid. Maybe tepid is the wrong word for it. We don’t speak as often as most fathers and daughters, but we’re no michael and lindsay lohan. To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t sure how I was going to feel if he called and told me with a heavy heart that his test results were positive for cancer cells.

Clock watching serves very little purpose. It doesn’t make Time go by faster. Time will tick away at it’s regular pace and not give two hoots about you and your plans. Time takes no regard of your problems. I couldn’t wait. I called him 30 minutes after his scheduled appointment. “I’ll call you back.” Great. Now I’m mad at the clock for not ticking and the phone for not ringing. I’m even mad at his Dr. for not being prompt. My phone rings. Can I answer? Will I answer? I feel the lump building in my throat. I’m ready to cry. I’m a little surprised. I didn’t cry for days after I learned my grandmother died. I have to answer. I have to know.
“Hello?”
“I’m healthy!”
I cried a little bit anyway. I cried for myself, I cried for my father, I cried for my grandfather, I cried for Anissa, I cried for everyone who didn’t get the same news.

Is this our second chance? Will we take advantage?

Time will tell.

Cream Puffs for Maddie.

Today I didn’t have to work.
So I decided to make some cream puffs in honour of Maddie.

I documented the process and would like to share the recipe for those who are interested.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees and line a pan with parchment paper
Sift 1/2 cup flour, 1/2 tsp sugar, and 1/4 tsp salt in bowl, set aside.
Bring 4 tbsp butter and 1/2 cup water to boil in heavy saucepan over medium heat.

Remove saucepan from heat and quickly add flour mixture.
Return to heat and stir until a smooth doughball forms that pulls away from the side of the pan.
Transfer dough to bowl of electric mixer and beat on low to release steam.
lightly beat two eggs.
When dough is lukewarm, add eggs and beat until a smooth thick paste is formed.

If you don’t have a standing mixer, you can use a handheld mixer.
Spoon or pipe dough into twelve mounds on your cookie pan.

(i piped)
Beat one egg with 1/8th tsp of salt. Lightly brush puffs with eggwash mixture.

Bake at 400 degrees for 15 minutes.
Reduce heat to 350 degrees and bake for 30-40 minutes or until shell is dry inside when split open and the outside is a rich amber colour.
Turn off heat and partially open oven door for 10-15 minutes to allow shells to dry out further.
Remove from oven and place on wire rack to cool.

Now, you can do what I did and use a tub of coolwhip to fill your shells, or you can make your own whipped cream with your own recipe. I mixed one tub of coolwhip with 1/2 cup blackberry puree to give it flavor and that delightful purple colour.
Split shells in half and fill with whipped topping. Place top of shell back on the whipped and garnish with powdered sugar.

Om nom nom.

My son offered to eat one in Maddie’s honour.

James approved.

You can find the complete recipe here.

Happy Birthday Maddie!

Don’t forget to donate to Friends of Maddie. May you never need their services!

Maddie.

On April 8th of this year, I logged into twitter. I hadn’t been using it for very long, I didn’t follow many people. I followed some people I already knew through Livejournal and Facebook. On this day, Kimberly linked to a blog post from Matt Logelin about the sudden loss of a beautiful and vibrant little girl named Maddie. I couldn’t get very much information because Heather’s website completely crashed due to the high traffic. So I spent a little while trying to find what I could from other places. Not a lot of luck since I didn’t really know anybody involved. At all. I went back to Matt’s website and cried with each entry I read.

A few days later, I was finally able to find my way back to Heather’s blog. I was completely devastated. I couldn’t believe the transition. One entry is talking about taking Maddie to parks, the next talks about her passing. It took my breath away. It still does.

And I began to feel regret.

I regretted not knowing this beautiful baby girl while she was alive. I regretted that I had nothing to offer the Spohrs. I regretted every last minute with my son that I took for granted.

And now, on the eve of her second birthday, I find myself filled with an odd sense of calm. I do not doubt tomorrow will be a very hard day for many people, myself included. However, from what I’ve learned of Maddie, I do not believe she would want us to spend the day surrendering to remorse and regret.

At this time I’d like to say that I’m glad Heather has continued to blog about Maddie. It’s helped me learn more about Maddie. It makes me feel more connected with Heather. Heather consistently writes with a degree of honesty I can only hope to achieve some day.

Heather and Mike, I want you to know that you are not alone. Thousands of people will spend today noticing the purple that occurs in their lives. Thousands of people will remember Maddie today and every day for the rest of their lives. Maddie touched the lives and hearts of so many.

So today, I urge each and every person that reads this entry to donate to Friends of Maddie, so that lives can continue to be touched by this beautiful little angel. Friends of Maddie is a non-profit organization dedicated to supporting the families of premature and critically ill babies. With your support, Friends of Maddie can help provide strength and resources to families across the nation.

Maddie, I’m sorry I never got to know you, but you’ve touched my heart and I’ve been forever changed.

Happy Birthday Maddie. We love you.

GIVE IT TO MOMMY!!!!

My son is a climber.
It was sudden. I don’t know when it happened. One day he can barely sit in his toddler chair, the next day he’s climbing onto the sofa with no trouble at all.

This evening, after a rather difficult weekend at work, I was cleaning up from dinner. I was standing at the dining room table talking with Robert while James watched TV in the living room (within plain sight of the dining room). It doesn’t matter what we were talking about, I don’t remember. I suddenly noticed James was sitting on top of the glass-top sofa side table. And he’s playing with…What the fuck!?

I rushed over to the table saying “James! James! Give it to mommy! GIVE IT TO MOMMY!”

Someone had left a water glass on the side coffee table and James had started to chew on it. Which would normally not be cause for so much alarm. Except this particular water glass had broken into three pieces after being tipped over on the table. (stupid cheap glasses) and my son had a piece of broken glass in his mouth. It wasn’t small, it was large. He was holding it and biting (thankfully) the smooth edge of the rim.

I carefully took all three pieces away from him, took him into his room where I changed his clothes (which were now soaked from the water spilled all over the place), his diaper, and searched frantically for any scrapes or bruises. I only found one tiny little cut on his knuckle. the corner of his mouth looked a little irritated but the skin was not broken.

But I was broken.

Every parent has their own personal “I can’t believe I let that happen” story and I’ve been told 4 of them tonight alone. I’m sorry to say that, for now, it doesn’t make me feel better. Yes I’m relieved he didn’t injure himself. Yes I’m sure everyone in this house will be more careful with their selection of drinkware. (most of us are using plastic cups….I’m just sayin…it narrows the suspect list) Yes I’m sure worse things have happened. But I still can’t look myself in the mirror right now.

By the way, I took a pregnancy test last wednesday and it was negative. But I’m now one week late from the rough schedule my body had been using. I don’t know what I should do.

Wordless Wednesday…The Pumpkin Patch!

losing the battle, winning the war?

I guess I’ll start off by coming right out with it.

I’m two days late.

This probably means nothing. This probably means I didn’t ovulate in October the way I did in both August and September.

I’m symptom free. No nausea. No tender boobs. (neither of which I had last time around)

But there is exhaustion. And constipation. (both of which I had last time around but both of which can be coincidental)

I’m trying to remain as indifferent to this situation as possible. I took an early pregnancy test last wednesday and it came back negative.  Too soon? Maybe.  I purchased some cheapies from the dollar store and will probably take one tomorrow. No clue how it will result. I have a feeling it will be negative if only because that seems to be the way my luck goes with my body.

But if it’s positive….

well.

I just don’t know what I’ll do. I’ll be cautiously optimistic, but I’ve expected such big battles to have children and I have yet to have any battles, other than battles with my own psyche.

I guess I’m just sitting here with my internal battles.

and I’m afraid.

I’m afraid of taking a test and having it be negative, and my period never shows up for another 6 months for no apparent reason.

I’m afraid of taking a test and having it be positive, and being happy and excited and something happens to the pregnancy.

I’m afraid of taking a test and having it be positive, I’m afraid of taking a test and having it be negative.

I’m afraid.