Child Birth: It Ain't all Rainbows and Unicorns

As promised, here's my next post with an introduction to my first born.  Two weeks late, induced 36-hours of labor with an emergency c-section just to make the moment memorable -- as if being my first born wasn't enough.  Child birth was nothing like I'd expected.  I remember being in full makeup and hair with a few well-planned wardrobe changes for my stay.   My first born shattered all of that!  I remember being in the OR, flat on my back, staring up into the bright white ceiling with the anesthesiologist leaning in over my face on his cell phone making dinner reservations and my doctor asking, "can you feel this -- what about that?"  I yelled, "yes, I can feel it!"  I thought that she was slicing into my stomach and panic was quickly setting in.  I don't think a woman ever really considers what it's actually going to take to get the child out of your body until it's actually happening.  Let me just say this, it ain't all rainbows and unicorns. For me, it was more like an emergency scene from Grey's Anatomy.

I remember a huge release of pressure from the highest point of my chest and there he was.  He was quickly swaddled, everyone joined hands and cut the cord and I tearfully extended my arms and placed him against my bosom.  And, if you're really buying this, let me sell you some fried ice cream as my mother would say.

Well, there was a hugh release of pressure and I saw a quick glimpse of a baby with perfectly coifed hair with a part on the side (I kid you not) that appeared to be levitating over a blue barrier that hung between my chest and the rest of my lower body.  Before I could do anything, I began to vomit uncontrollably -- With my head simply turned to the side, vomit engulfed the left side of my head, hair and ear.   The only thing that I could think about was, why is it that women don't readily share this information?!  It's like a secret rite of passage -- once you're in the club, other mothers give you what I call, the motherhood nod.

It wasn't until the next afternoon that I actually got to really see my son and hold him -- I'm not going to get into the latching on and how painful it was to hold him because of the c-section.  I'll save that for another time...

My first born opened my heart to a kind of love that I knew existed but never really understood until he was born.  So much so, I didn't think that I could possibly have another child and have any love left -- but it's amazing how children deepen the heart and it's capacity to love unconditionally and purely.

I guess you didn't really meet my first born in this post but at least now you have a little insight into how he made an unforgettable entrance.  Let me just say that he continues in this tradition...

I'd love to hear your first experience with childbirth... Dads, feel free to chime in

Cultivating Your Child's Talent: Are you a Joe Jackson?

I would have never dreamed of being a divorcee, raising two boys.  I mean, when you're dreaming about your life -- I think most are idealistic about what the future will bring.  At least I was.  So here I am, a woman in my 40s, rebuilding my life and raising my, now 14 and 10-year-old sons.  When I tell you they have needs -- WOW.  Parenting is 24/7/365 -- multiply that by 100 when you're a single parent.  Back to these needs...  I have such a profound appreciation for the inexhaustable supply of love and support that my parents continue to give to my adult brother and I because it is WORK -- if you're truly committed.

My boys have their own unique personalities, perspectives and interests -- Take my youngest, he has a gift for baseball -- I find myself walking a fine line when it comes to cultivating his gift versus becoming the "Joe Jackson" in his life yelling, "Dance Michael!"  I had a heart to heart with him and said, if there ever comes a time that baseball is no longer fun for you, I want you to tell me and I will not force you to play. -- I know, sounds good right?  Well, the day came and I had to seriously think about what he may be throwing away and later, regretting.  He came to me in tears and said that he hated baseball and that he no longer wanted to play.  I dried his eyes and asked what was it about baseball that he didn't like --- he said, "it seems like it's the only thing that I get to do and I want to do something else."  I took a moment and asked him, if you added other activities, like a photography or painting class (all things that he loves) -- would you still want to stop playing baseball?  Surprisingly, he said no -- adding, baseball isn't the only thing that I'm interested in mom.  I am by no means an expert on parenting -- I'm learning each day with every new experience that my boys present.  However, I do believe this... sometimes, we, as parents, can make our kids hate the very thing that they love by cramming it down their throats.  I'd love to hear your thoughts and experiences with your own children.  We all learn from each other...  I'll introduce you to my first born in my next post...  High School is a trip!