What I want this Mother’s Day

I remember my first Mother’s Day well.  I was so excited to finally be celebrating as a new mom.  In my mind I built it up to be this glorious, amazing day.  I would sleep in late, be served breakfast in bed, and leisurely make my way to the living room.  The laundry would be done and folded, the house would be immaculate.  Grocery shopping would be done for the week.  My daughter would have just had a bath, and be clean and happy.  I'd go get a massage and have a mani/pedi.  My hair would look perfect (because I'd actually do it) and I'd look and feel great about my post-baby body.  I'd receive a beautiful card and a thoughtful gift.  Dinner would be a culinary masterpiece and a layered chocolate cake would top things off.  I'd get to bed early between nice clean sheets and have a full night's rest.



 

 

And ..... that's not quite how it went.

 

 

On my first Mother's Day, my daughter had only been home from the NICU for 5 weeks, and I wouldn't leave her side.  She was still on oxygen and an apnea monitor, and I didn't feel comfortable with anyone else watching her.  My husband and I were also the only ones who could feed her, since we had to feel whether she was still breathing, and sometimes rub her back to stimulate her.  On top of that, I had postpartum that was so awful at times that I couldn't get out of bed, much less shower and go out.  So we decided to stay in for my first Mother's Day.  I didn't sleep in.  I barely slept at all with the apnea monitor beeping all night and my daughter crying.  My husband tried so hard to make sure I had a good day, and he made a huge effort to make me an awesome dinner.  But he'd never cooked lobster before.  We learned he's not real good at it.  He also made shrimp cocktail, but the shrimp weren't thawed.  There was no cocktail sauce.  The sink was full of dirty dishes.  I never showered and my hair never got done.  My nails?  Yeah, right.  I was depressed and upset with my post-baby body.  Dirty laundry was everywhere.  The house was a mess.  My daughter de-statted the entire day and refluxed/projectile vomited more times than I could count.  I was covered in puke most of the day.  So was the house.  She screamed through every feeding (oral aversion, G-tube wasn't in the picture yet).  By the time we ate the lobster it was cold and gross.  I cried a lot and was horribly depressed.  The day was actually somewhat of a disaster.  Nothing went right.  Or rather, nothing went the way I thought it was supposed to.

 

You see, I built up this idea in my head of the perfect Mother's Day that was impossible and out of reach.  It set unrealistic expectations on me, my husband, and my daughter.  I had this picture of how it was supposed to be, and when the day didn't live up to that, it left me feeling empty and disappointed.  I was angry and frustrated.  I only got one first Mother's Day and I thought it was wrecked.  But I failed to realize that it wasn't wrecked, that was just the way I was viewing it.

 

I am blessed with an incredibly loving, understanding, and supportive husband who tried so hard to make it a memorable day, but I failed to realize that he was also navigating this scary, uncharted journey through special-needs parenthood, and he had equally difficult moments as me.  I was still on maternity leave, he was back at work.  He was also trying to take care of me with my awful post-partum days and had a lot on his plate.  Expecting all those things to be done was unrealistic and selfish on my part.  And expecting my daughter to suddenly have a great day when we knew she had lots of issues and needed extra care was equally unrealistic.  I couldn't turn my 2lb preemie into a miraculously healthy baby just so I could have a good Mother's Day.  I couldn't expect her to feed great, not need her oxygen, or not de-stat.  She was still hooked to tubes and wires, she still hated the bottle, she was still an a-typical child recovering from a very difficult, very early birth with a lot of health issues. It was wrong and unfair of me to expect anything different.

 

But I couldn't realize that right away.  For a long time I was too blind to see all the good things that happened on that Mother's Day, I was just so focused and preoccupied on everything being 'perfect.'  Looking back on that day now, we can laugh (it took a while).  It was a comedy of errors, really.  Time and perspective has helped me appreciate all the things that were GOOD that happened.  My daughter was alive.  Worth repeating: My daughter was alive.  She made it through major surgery at 10 days old.  We weren't in the NICU any longer.  My daughter was at home, and in my arms.  I had a loving, supportive husband and father to my baby.  I was surrounded by the two people I love more than anything in this world.  We had wonderful, loving family who lived close-by.  We had jobs, cars, food, and a roof over our heads.  Who cares if there wasn't a crafty card with my daughter's handprint or a gift waiting for me?  Who cares if dinner sucked, or I didn't shower or get pampered, or didn't sleep in?   Who cares if the house and I were covered in puke?  (That became a new norm for us anyways).  What mattered is that the two people in this world who made me a mom - my husband and my daughter – were by my side.  I was surrounded by them and their love on my first Mother's Day.  That's what mattered.

 

When I was admitted to the hospital at 26 weeks gestation in preterm labor, my husband had packed some of my books to keep me occupied - including "What to Expect When You're Expecting."  As I unpacked in my hospital room, I saw the book and it upset me.  I asked him to take it back home.  It didn't apply anymore.  I could no longer expect anything I read in that book, or any other book for that matter.  I no longer knew what to expect at all.  I had to take my preconceived notions and ideas of how it was supposed to be, and throw them out the window.  And that's what I've been learning to do for the last 2 1/2 years.  It's not an easy feat.  It can actually be very painful at times.

 

There's a quote that says "What screws us up most in life is the picture in our head of how it's supposed to be."  With Mother's Day, I had to take the idea in my head of how it's supposed to be - or how I thought it should be - and just throw it out the window.  Because it didn't apply anymore.  Because not everything goes how you think it's going to.  As MOMs, we all know that.  We are all on unexpected, unanticipated journeys in this life and have had to throw our ideas of how it's supposed to be away.  That's a really, really difficult thing to do at times.  It's also a very emotional thing to do, because we have to let go of the way we wanted things to be.  That can mean letting go of certain plans for ourselves, or for our children.  But I think letting go of the picture in our head of how it's supposed to be, is the only real way to see and appreciate the good things that we DO have.  I had to let go of my idea of the perfect Mother's Day in order to appreciate the good and beautiful things that did happen on that day, and to appreciate how lucky I was to have my daughter.

 

For this Mother’s Day, do I want a clean house?  Sure.  A nice dinner?  Absolutely!  Even just a card?  I’d love one.  But if I don’t get any of those things, that’s ok.   I may never get a handprint card from my daughter, because she screams when there's stuff on her hands (sensory issues).  Having a clean house with a 2 year old is IMPOSSIBLE.  And enjoying a nice meal?  She won't sit at the table for more than five minutes and she'll only eat ketchup or barbeque sauce (feeding issues), which ends up everywhere.



 

Our society has made this holiday into a day of unrealistic expectations, which only lead to disappointment.  Instead of focusing on spa appointments, cute crafts, a clean house, or a gourmet meal, I’d rather just focus on the beautiful people in my life who enabled me to celebrate this holiday – the people who made me a mom.  I don’t want to have my heart set on ridiculous expectations of what this day should hold.  I don’t want to focus on preconceived notions set by people who haven’t faced the same struggles that we have, who don't understand the issues we face.  I’d rather remember the beautiful miracle that I have in my daughter, and remember how far we’ve come.  She reminds me just how precious life is, to celebrate every milestone with joy (no matter how late), to live in the moment, and to never take anything for granted.  I feel honored this Mother’s Day to be her mom, she has taught me so much.  All I need on this holiday is to look into her eyes and see her smile.

 

Plus, who wants crappy lobster anyways?

 

 I would like to wish each and every MOM a truly wonderful and happy Mother's Day this year.  May it be filled with joy and love.

 

She Taught Me To Have Faith - In Myself

Faith. It’s one of those funny things. For each of us it means something a little different. Merriam Webster defines faith as "a strong belief or trust in someone or something; belief in the existence of God; strong religious feelings or belief, or a system of religious beliefs." Somewhere in that definition, I think we can each find our own meaning of faith.

For me, faith has less to do with God and more to do with what I can see & touch & feel. Do I have faith in God? Yes. But it’s easier for me to have faith in something that’s tangible. I was raised in a very devout, religious household. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve developed my own belief system and I find that it’s very different from my upbringing. My husband and I don’t go to church or partake in any kind of organized religion. We were married by a justice of the peace. I believe in God, but that’s about as far as it goes.

For many, many people of all different backgrounds, being a part of a community or religion is an essential part of their everyday life, it’s who they are. Belief in a God/Christ/deity/holy being/higher power and prayer to Him/Her/It is how they are able to make it through the day. For still others, God is there and church is something they go to, but perhaps it’s more on the back burner in their daily life. We are all different, unique, and beautiful in how we believe - or don’t believe - in a God.

Faith is kind of the same way. It’s different for all of us. I think we all have faith in someone, or something. Faith may typically be linked to God, or a religion, but it doesn’t have to be. For me, faith is the knowledge that I was given my daughter for a reason, that there is some kind of higher power out there that put us together. Somehow we were paired up (and perhaps God comes into the picture there, I’m not really sure) but I know it was not by chance that she came into my life. She needed me, and I needed her. She knew there were things I needed to learn about myself, and she was going to teach me.

I planned on a normal, full term pregnancy. I planned on bringing home a healthy, chubby baby after a 2 or 3 day hospital stay. I planned on everything being perfect. She had something else in mind. At 27 weeks gestation my daughter was born, weighing just over 2lbs. They weren’t sure if she was going to make it and prepared us for the worst. Somehow though, throughout the surgeries and specialists and close calls in the NICU, I never doubted that she would live. I knew my daughter was going to be ok. Her dying was never a thought that I entertained. It just never occurred to me that it was going to happen. I had faith in her.



What she has taught me over the last two years is to have faith in myself as well. She has taught me that I have more patience and strength than I ever imagined possible. I can try to soothe a screaming baby at 2am who’s hungry but refuses to eat. I can reinsert a mic-key button (by myself) that my toddler just pulled out. I can fight with doctors and insurance companies and medical supply companies to get her the necessary treatments and therapies. I can juggle working full time while keeping appointments with her litany of specialists. I can handle her meltdowns in stores and malls because she can’t process the sensory overload. She has taught me that one person can make a difference, because I make a difference to her.

My daughter has helped me find the confidence and self-assurance that I was missing. I’m a different person because of her, a better person. She has taught me to have faith in ME. She has taught me to not doubt myself, but to trust my gut instinct, and to know that everything I’m doing is for her good. She has taught me that I’m not just a mom, I’m a MOM. And she has taught me to believe in myself.

Faith is different for all of us, but I think it’s something we all need to have on this journey. I never realized how much it was lacking in my life until my daughter showed me. For me, it’s not faith in God or a religion. It’s not faith in something else. It’s faith in myself. I know I can handle whatever life throws my way. Everything happens for a reason, and I was blessed with Elizabeth to teach me these lessons and to show me who I am capable of becoming. I am forever grateful to her for that gift.