Monday, May 13, 2013

First Mother's Day

My husband told me Austin was SO excited for his first Mother's Day that he got up at 5:00 Sunday morning just so the day could get started.

With the exception of one Mother's Day back when I was an idiot teenager and forgot to get my mom a card and then was a mix of ignorant and ungrateful when she took it personally, I have always relished in the two holidays dedicated to my parents. When I was very young, I obviously had the help of my dad - signing my name on cards or diligently gluing sequins and glitter on whatever bedazzled gift I was making - and we always hit a home run. Mom would plant her begonias, accept her flowers and construction paper cut-outs with awe, and we would all spend the late afternoon barbecuing and eating one chocolate covered fruit or another. We may have done the whole brunch thing once or twice but when literally everyone and their mother is trying to make their 11:00 reservation, it got a little taxing and silly. My family, the three of us, made Mother's Day our own. We had our own traditions, our own quirks, and our own crafts - and it was glorious.

 As with everything else, holidays take on a new meaning once you have a kid so like Christmas and Thanksgiving, Mother's Day was reinvented this year. It was my first! And I was very excited for it. Austin and his dad did their due diligence and sent flowers the Friday before (shipping and handling spikes tremendously over the weekend and I appreciate their thoughtfulness as well as their economy) and planned a lovely dinner with the help of Grandpa. BUT more than the flowers, Austin gave Mommy the best gift ever later than morning - a two hour nap! More than the nap itself  it was the timing of the nap. Mommy wanted a nap too. I napped the hell out of those two hours and it was great!

At my parents I asked my mom how her first "Grandmother's Day" felt and she described herself as feeling blessed and grateful. As one who is not very religious, those are not words I typically use but considering how far we have come since the start of this post, I think they were two excellent choices.

More than having a first Mother's Day was the epiphany of why there is a Mother's Day. In Austin's 6 months of life, I have learned why my mom was frustrated when I left toys all over the place, why she was forever doing laundry and my dad was forever folding it, why she read newspapers and newsletters filled with area activities, cut coupons, encouraged vegetables, scheduled play dates, gave me constant hugs and kisses (whether I wanted them or not), or sometimes just watched me do whatever I was doing - as if breathing in that moment, chronicling it in her mental filing cabinet, and chanting to herself, "remember this moment. remember this day".

Friday, May 10, 2013

Why I don't Nap

By Austin

Grandma tells mom I nap for two hours the days they watch me, while mom is at work
but I know for a fact she doesn't believe them because when it's just us, I go berserk!

I wake up real early, while the sun's still asleep but lay in my bed with my binky in hand
then my tummy rumbles and I give a cry. Since I have her trained - mom arrives on command.

She'll bring my bottle, change my diaper, give me a kiss. She'll dress me into fresh threads
And for the rest of the day, I'm fairly certain, that is the last time I'll be in my bed.

After a bottle or pureed sweet yams, I may dose for twenty minutes or so
But don't think you'll have time to vacuum or dust because when I wake up, I'm ready to go

for a walk
for a bounce
for tummy time with dad
for a snack
for a toy
for a roll on the floor
for new diaper
and for some hugs
for any attention you have, I want more..

I know you'll entertain me, you'll gaggle and goo when I flash my million dollar grin
And you'll forfeit, surrender, your pressing chores because - let's face it - I'm going to win.

Now I know you're sneaky - and I'm on to your game - when you take the car for a ride
to no where specific, around the block, to lull me to sleep by the hum of the drive.

Or to pack up the stroller, with a blanket and lovey, while I'm rocked to sleep by the gravel below
but who are you kidding? This walk will only get another ten minutes or so.

Accept your fate, your powers are helpless, although I have to admit, you fight a good fight
but you know that you won't have your free time until I decide to call it a night.

Monday, May 6, 2013


 You know what I don't miss? Progesterone shots. You know what I miss even less? Getting them.

As I may have mentioned, my last day of breastfeeding was February 4th (snark if you like Leche ladies, but Austin and I just didn't do well with it) and between that date and today I should have restarted my menstrual life in hopes of smoothly creating Baby #2, if desired. Unfortunately the "restart" mode that Dr. B referred to at my 6 week postpartum check up has yet to kick in leaving me at the mercy of science, yet again.

I pray you never see the day when a nurse asks you to come in for a progesterone shot and you respond: "I have everything I need here. Can my husband just give it to me?" Why, you ask? Well 1) it means you had a bout with infertility and that is frustrating and tiresome, 2) Your husband should not be well versed in the ways of progesterone administration, 3) I would have hoped your body properly restarted after Baby #1, and 4) You should not have an arsenal of syringes, progesterone vials, alcohol swabs, and replacement needles tucked away "just in case" in your bathroom drawers. It just isn't normal. You also should not have to call your husband from work, ask if you have x-amount of MG's of progesterone available and he, in an effort to find the correct medication, rattle off 3 other types of medication in your kit and then know the quantitative difference between an ML, a CC, and an MG. This isn't conversational knowledge, this is IVF speak.

Anyway, so rather that giving me the shot at home, I went to the doctor's (my own progesterone in tow) because I had some questions and she wanted to see my son. This will probably be one of the few times Austin will visit a gynecologist's office, but since he is a little flirt, he had a grand old time with the ladies in the office. As Mommy posed for her progesterone injection, Austin dribbled and drabbled in the corner, enamored by the stark white environment in the patient's room.

Bruised butt and all, Austin and I headed home to wait. Ideally, if my hormones take the appropriate cues, I should have my period just in time for Mother's Day. Ironic, isn't it?