First we lost my uncle on Christmas.  It hit hard.  The night before we all sat and joked…told stories that have been told hundreds of times before about everyone.  Made fun of each member of the family in the way we do.  The next morning after Em opened his gifts we received a call from my mom, my uncle had passed.  It was not fair.  He was fairly young and healthy.  He had alot more life to live.  I spent Christmas in a haze…with the rest of my family.  Our light was Em.  He smiled and giggled…unaware of the events.    That night he slept with us, his warmth and innocence made me cry and heal

Two days later we got eventfull news.  I found out I was pregnant.  I knew before the line came up that something was wrong.  Without going into details I have miscarried.  I have felt hurt before.  I have felt pain.  But this combined with my uncles death has been unbearable.  I have cried myself dry.  My eyes are red and swollen, my heart hurts.
 

What gets me through is my life.  I have a husband who adores me and holds me up.  I have a son who I swear is an angel sent from heaven.  My mom and I joke that he still has marks where his wings were clipped..he has two dimples at the bottom of his shoulder blades.  He has been Rich and my strength.  He wakes everyday with this enthusiasm and joy for what the day brings.  As sad as we have been he smiles and hugs.
I used to try to hide alot from him.  I had this rule not to cry or show pain to him.  Dumb.  My pain, my joy, my life is a story for him to get to know me.  As bad as it is, one day I will share all this with him…good and bad.  I wrote in his journal last night about what has happened this past week. I pasted in a photo of my uncle with him.  I told of what I knew about my uncle so that he and I would not forget.  I told of the joy and pain I have felt with losing a baby.  How so much I want him to feel the love of a sibling…how I want another child.  I am not going to hide this…because what if I hide it so much that I also forget.  I do not want to.
Pain, joy, happiness, and sadness make us.  Make us and develop us.  It’s our story and life that we share and pass.  I think he knows, Em that is.  Children are not blind.  They see is our eyes what we may not know.  I think they read our faces and understand…and comfort through their giggles and glee.

We will all be fine here…may take some time.   This song hit me the other day on the radio….the lyrics mean alot right now.  Its by Brandi Carlie…
Made me think that no matter what I will get through…Not to ignore hurt but remember and express those that we miss and have lost.

Em will grow up I hope feeling the same.  To know pain is not shameful and all aspects of life, whether good or bad, tell our story and life.

 
All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I’ve been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don’t mean anything
When you’ve got no one to tell them to
It’s true…I was made for you
I climbed across the mountain tops
Swam all across the ocean blue
I crossed all the lines and I broke all the rules
But baby I broke them all for you
Because even when I was flat broke
You made me feel like a million bucks
You do
I was made for you
You see the smile that’s on my mouth
It’s hiding the words that don’t come out
And all of my friends who think that I’m blessed
They don’t know my head is a mess
No, they don’t know who I really am
And they don’t know what
I’ve been through like you do
And I was made for you…
All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I’ve been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don’t mean anything
When you’ve got no one to tell them to
It’s true…I was made for you

Em is 18 months today.  It hit me when I woke up…he is one and a half.  Made me lock myself in the bathroom for a quick tear.  Honestly I never thought it would go this fast.  I truely feel like I gave birth yesterday.  But then…you think back and reflect.  Wow.  He has transformed from this screaming, wriggly, little being to a boy.

I remember clear as day the hours after he was born.  We had a long talk after everyone had left the room.  It was around 2 am…I was still hopped up on drugs and feeling weepy.  I told him I was scared.  I let him know I did not know how to change a diaper or swaddle.  I admitted to my newborn child that I did not know how to be a mom.  I sat awake most of that night in between tears and elation…kind of a mix of happiness and fear.  I swore I was going to break him…or worse let him grow up with a mom who did not know how to manage everything.  That night I started his book/diary where I tell him what we did and how we felt that day.  I am now on my third book. 

Eighteen months later I can change a dipe while wrestling the cream from my toddler.   I carry him thrown over my shoulder with a pile of laundry in my other arm.  I did not break him.    It amazes me how he has helped me grow.  I feel that once he was born, that’s when I truely found what I was meant for.  Kind of cool, no??

Em and I have a unique relationship.  We talk alot…really we will talk for hours in my window seat.  I think this is why he talks so much   That first night I was so scared.  I freaked, thinking that I should know this stuff…were women not wired with how to care for a baby.  But he taught me well.  Em may be the one who is aging, but I am maturing.  Over the past eighteen months my baby learned to crawl and then walk, he babbled and now chats and makes sense, he is now his own being.  Over the past eighteen months I leanred to love someone more than I could ever know, I learned to nuture, I learned compassion.
This morning I did have a nice little cry…I hate for him to grow so fast.  We celebrated tonight with a big cake.  He grinned and gave big chocolate kisses.  We have both gone through so much and have so much further to go.  Hopefully I won’t cry at every milestone

“A baby will make love stronger, days shorter, nights longer, bankroll smaller, home happier, clothes shabbier, the past forgotten, and the future worth living for”

I am sick.  Em is sick.  Nothing in the world is worse than being sick with a sick baby. 

We are both sipping juice and soup…hopefully I will have something better to say tomorrow. 

Today shopping he spotted the biggest and loudest fire truck his little eyes have ever seen.  He ran towards it screaming “OOOOOOOO…OOOOOO” (fire truck noises to a 18 month old).  So we had to go into the toy store and look at the trucks.  He played, banging them into each other.  I looked at the tutus and dolls.    I wanted to buy a pretty and soft little bunny, we left with a fire truck.

He is also very into daddy right now.  Why not??? Daddy can rough house and kick a ball.  Daddy can throw him high and knows all the names of every truck.  Mommy cleans and wipes his bottom.  Not so cool. 

Now….this is not all bad.  Honestly, if you asked me 2 years ago about raising a son I would have laughed.  I am a total girly- girl.  I love make-up, fashion, and shopping.  I hate dirt and outside.  But I would not trade my little boy for the world…or a girl

The greatest thing about a boy is that he may not show it all the time, but he loves his MOMMY!   Although I may not be as cool as daddy, at the end of the day mommy will know how to kiss boo-boos and make them better, mommy will always know what his favorite dinner or snack is and have it ready,  mommy will listen (even if it is baby babbles at this point).  Daddy may be fun and  “shiner” than mommy….but mommy is his go to guy  

 Em knows that I am always ready for a cuddle and know where “bee” is.    I know that I will continue to grow uncool over the years, probably never know or care enough about cars or trucks, or even be able to kick a ball as far as daddy.  But Em will grow up having a mommy who will always be here to listen, hug, and make the world right.  Oh….and a mommy who really wanted that cute bunny! 

“Boys are found everywhere — on top of, underneath, inside of, climbing on, swinging from, running around or jumping to.  Mothers love them, little girls hate them, older sisters and brothers tolerate them, adults ignore them and Heaven protects them. A boy is Truth with dirt on its face, Beauty with a cut on its finger, Wisdom with bubble gum in its hair and the Hope of the future with a frog in its pocket.”  (Alan Marshall Beck)

Now this could be anything…a job, money, a love interest, baby….anything.  We talked about those who get things “easier” than others.  Those that seem to glide effortlessly through life.  Those not feeling that want, at least on the surface.  Then there are those that have to “work” for everything.  Things may not come quick or easy. 

 I have had to work and want.  But, I have been lucky in my endeavors and trials.  I have never had things handed to me, but I have never felt pain from a want.  Kind of in the middle.

So….do you think that wanting makes the end sweeter?  Does having to work and maybe even cry over what you want so bad make it MORE in the end.  I am not sure.  Really.  But, for me I am in a way glad I have had the cards I was dealt.  Wanting and striving has developed my character, my being.  So maybe that’s what’s it for.

Ever think our lives are training us, molding us into what we are to become.  Maybe some of us have to wait to build patience.  Maybe some of us have to cry to develop a thicker skin for later on?  Again not sure.

Would happiness be as joyful without pain?  Do you think you would appreciate that  ’A’  without having to work at at? 

I think we are never given more than what we can handle, as corny as it sounds.  Maybe this is why every path is different.  Now I know it’s not fair how some peoples lives turn out, one bad misfortune after another….I wish I knew why….but again does it make that one glimmer shine brighter? 

 Then there are those we glare at possibly with a green eye….those that seem to have it all.  But, honestly maybe they don’t.  Maybe they want what we have….maybe they want.  As bad as we may feel things are, as bad as we may feel like life is not fair…we want!   But then….the person behind you may look at you and want…want what you have, want what you have been given.

I cannot imagine my life any other way.  I hate not getting things easier.  But maybe I am not supposed to.  Now I don’t mean to say that I appreciate things more than others that may get things “easier”, this is again my interpretation.  Without that want every so often, how are we supposed to feel that pride of accomplishment, that joy, the inspiration?

“Life isn’t about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.”  (Shaw)