Seasons of love

525,600 minutes
525,000 moments so dear
525,600 minutes - how do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee.
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.
In 525,600 minutes - how do you measure a year in the life?
How about love?

One year ago. One year ago today my life changed, changed in a way I'd never expected. Oy. Here come the tears already.


I've never been so tired, so frustrated, and felt so incapable as I have in these last 12 months.
And never - never in my life - did I imagine that I would love one creature - that my life would revolve around someone so tiny - as much as I do and as much as it does. Nathanael is my world, my every joy, and my heart swells with so much love for him that it's scary. The love a mother feels for her child, I have learned, is unlike any other. It's completely indestructable, completely unconditional, and it's something that I feel so blessed, so privileged, to be able to know.

So. One year old. I have to admit that we're not exactly where I thought we'd be at this point in time. Still not walking, and not talking beyond a few words - mama, dada, baba, go (I *think*), and caca. Caca. That's my boy.

Boy, he loves life, though. He finds good in everything. He's fascinated by the world and I stand in awe at his wonder over the slightest things that I've long felt were mundane. I vow to make sure that he retains this love and this fascination for as long as possible.

This very second? One year ago? I was making the "dead man walking" walk from my labor room to the operating room. I can remember it as if it were yesterday. I was terrified. I was excited. I was in disbelief that I was about to become a mother, become responsible for someone else's life other than my own. Nat's official birth time is 11:47 a.m. Oh sweet Jesus - someone get me some Kleenex brand facial tissues, would you?

I wish I could create a machine that would slow time down, just a little. I'm not sure that I'm ready for toddlerhood and the tantrums, the independence, and the inevitability that my baby boy is, indeed, growing up.

Happy, happy birthday to my baby boy. You have given me the most amazing 12 months of my life. I love you, I love you, I love you, and I am so happy to be your mama.

Finally!

My boy finally calls me by name. I was beginning to think I was invisible to him, or just so inconsequential that he felt as though he didn't need to bother with anything other than his "hey you" point. In any case, hearing his call of "mama mama mama" is music to my ears, and quite honestly I could listen to it all day.

Any time I've glanced at the clock today I've been thinking back to one year ago, wondering what I was doing. At this point, all I knew was that I was going in for a scheduled induction on the night of the 30th. It wouldn't be until later that evening that we all learned the little stinker had flipped around, prompting the docs to perform a c-section the following day.

I can't believe that it has been a year. I still remember what I wore...hell, even what I ate...on the day before he was born. I wonder if any of his first memories will be anything from his first year. I hope so...because if there's anything he should be able to know and remember from the last 12 months it should be how loved and adored he is.

Now - off to rescue him from whatever seems to be attempting to kill him in his crib.

Tone: nostalgic and happy :)

Survival

The party went off without a hitch. I consider it a major success. Good food, some good friends and family (and a bunch of peeps I didn't know), good presents, and a lot of fun. I, of course, got choked up singing Happy Birthday to Nat, but I imagine it was nothing close to the emotion I'll feel on Wednesday. He's still a baby in so many ways, but like a big boy in many others. It still makes me sad to think how quickly this year has passed, but I know every other mother on the planet feels the same way. But still - stay my baby boy a little longer, Nat, please?

As for Baby #2 - I'd like to clarify that never have I said/written that I regret getting pregnant. Do a word search on the blog - if you can find the word 'regret' then I'll happily give you $100. I wrote that I worry about having made a mistake for a few reasons....most of which have been voiced on this blog ....but never regret. Big difference. I know that this pregnancy is a blessing - I don't need to be reminded of that. But I also don't have to be happy with the way things have gone at this point. Would YOU be happy having to deal with profuse vomiting on a daily basis while also making sure your current baby's needs are being met? Doubtful. In any case, to all of you who have taken the time to send well wishes and good thoughts - thank you. You know you have special places in my heart and I appreciate your kind words and good intentions. :)

Now. Off to do some party damage control.

Party planning and c-sections

How in the world does your child's first birthday party turn into the event of the century? Nat's party is this weekend, and it won't be over fast enough. I have about 463 people attending, most of whom I don't know. I have to cook all of this food while battling a seriously queasy stomach, fighting the urge to dry heave and vomit all over what I've just prepared. We have friends coming in from out of town, arriving tomorrow, and of course we'll have to entertain them while they're here. How am I supposed to entertain when I'm usually dead asleep (thank you, Phenergan rectal suppositories that do nothing for nausea but make me delirious and sleepy) by 8:30? Stay tuned for updates. I'm sure there will be at least one disaster to report on.

Saw the OB on Tuesday for a checkup. Baby's still in there. It has verifiable legs and arms now. Looks like the arms are coming out of its mouth. Great. Bad news is that the pregnancy is in the left horn of my uterus. Back up for a minute. What, you say? You have a horn in your uterus? Yes, dear bloggers, I have a two-pronged uterus. A bicornuate uterus. It has two horns, kind of like the devil. Apropos, no? In any case, I'm pregnant on the left side, which is where the pregnancy was the last time around. At a prior visit the doctor had told me that if the pregnancy was in the right horn then we would attempt a vaginal birth rather than another c-section. So of course, because I'm convinced that God hates me, it's not in the right side. Which means an automatic c-section. Too much risk of uterine rupture. Fabulous thought, eh?

So. Last time I didn't know I was having a c-section until I got to the hospital. Now I have months and months to anticipate major surgery. So what's the big deal? Well, I'm uber-lucky enough to have a rare blood clotting disorder...so rare that I was graced with a pulmonary embolism in 2003...and, well, major surgery + clotting disorder = a bit of anticipatory anxiety. So while the average Jill runs the risk of dying during or after major surgery, my risk is just a little bit higher.

So excuse me if I can't rejoice over the little bundle soon to come. Excuse me if I'm less than thrilled about being pregnant at the moment. I'm being a little bit selfish right now in worrying that I'm going to kick the bucket, leaving my baby who is already here and already a huge part of my heart without a mother and without the memories of me, as he's really too young to remember me and all the love I've given him in this last year. Happy thoughts, aren't they?

I was tagged.

Someone tagged me in my comments. She wants me to list 8 things about myself. I'm in a foul mood today, so this should be interesting.

1. I hate Buffalo. I hate living here. I hate where we live. I hate only having one car. The city itself has a scent to it that I'd rather not know and that I'd rather not be associated with. I wish we were back in NYC. I'm not happy here. I don't know if I'll ever be happy here. Perhaps once we're in our own home in a better area things will perk up. Perhaps.

2. I miss my family. I miss the way things used to be. I cry about it. A lot.

3. It drives me nuts when someone calls my son Nate. That's not his name. It's Nathanael. Or Nat. Rhymes with hat. The ONLY person who is allowed to get away with it is my mom, and that's only because she asked if she could call him Nate the Great. So if you read this and you've ever called/ever wanted to call my son Nate - don't. Unless you're my mom.

4. I swear way too much. I swear way too much in front of the baby. I won't be surprised if his first honest-to-goodness word is "shitbag."

5. Sometimes I pretend I don't hear Nathanael when he cries in the middle of the night, just so that I don't have to be the one to tend to him. Hey, I'm pregnant - I need my sleep! And I bet there's not a single mom out there who hasn't done the same thing!

6. Cleaning the toilet makes me dry heave.

7. I worry that getting pregnant again was a huge mistake, for so many reasons.

11 months old

A few days late in posting Nat's 11 month status update. Been too busy vomiting up everything but the kitchen sink...although I think I did see it at one point...and being rehydrated in the hospital. Fun times.

But I digress.

My baby is one month away from turning the big 1.0. I can't even begin to describe the emotions associated with such a big event. Nothing like I ever imagined. My baby isn't a baby anymore, he's asserting his independence more and more, and it's actually breaking my heart. Not big into cuddling so much - hopefully it's a stage - and he gives W and me these looks that would imply he thinks we're crazy.

No walking, no talking. Don't get me started.

The newest thing is pointing. He points at everything. The cute part is that he doesn't point straight, so we really have no idea what he's intending to point to, so we pick the closest object and we tell him what it is. He knows what so many things are yet he's too stubborn to say the words. He's fascinated by people of other races/ethnicities. Awkwardly fascinated. We'll be in a waiting room, for example, and there will be someone of a different race, and he'll immediately pick that person out, crawl over to them, and look up and stare. And stare. Aaaaand stare. It's funny in a non-PC sort of way. He also enjoys the tubing on oxygen tanks.

Not much new from last month. We have his one-year check in about a month. We've decided to withhold the dreaded MMR shot for a couple of years (comments are not necessary, thank you) and are anxious to see how he's grown in the last 3 months and how he's doing according to the doc.

Planning for his first birthday party is nothing short of obsessive and ridiculous. He's my first baby, though, so I find no harm in spoiling him. We won't be able to give him everything he ever wants, but birthdays are special days whether or not he'll remember in 5 or 50 years, so we plan to celebrate big.

Our first year together is drawing to a close. It's bittersweet, really. I'm sad that it has passed by so quickly, but look forward to many more years of being mama to the best baby boy out there. We have this book that I bought but have yet to read to him because it's actually a bit depressing, but the mother in the story sings this to her baby boy - "I'll love you forever. I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be." My sentiments exactly. :)