The day I was forever changed...

Three years ago today, right now, I was in labor with my first son L. It was a day that has forever changed me in so many ways - as any of you who are parents surely know.

Never had I realized the TRUE depth and expanse of love until I gave birth to that baby. How is it that you can love that little person more than you've ever loved anyone the moment you lay eyes and arms on them? Or BEFORE you ever lay eyes and arms on them, even? How can that little helpless person, who cannot even hold their own head upright grab onto your heart and rip it out of your chest and carry it around, vulnerable and exposed, in the big bad world? How can that one little soul somehow lift you up when it seems that all is lost? Make things that had once seemed so important now seem trivial?

Since L, I have been able to let go of some things that I NEVER thought I would. He has made me slow down again and enjoy the little things in life. He has helped me to rediscover the beauty that exists all around me every day, every where. Seeing things again for the first time through his eyes is so amazing. Watching him grow and learn and change and become this little person has brought me joy I never knew could exist.

Becoming a mother has also brought me sadness in ways I never thought it would. Never did I realize how vulnerable I would feel. How every time I heard about a crash, a fire, an illness, a murder, starving children, abuse - these things would haunt me like never before. That I would ALWAYS imagine how horrible it would be were it MY child. That my heart would ACHE and that I would cry rivers for people I have never met who face these challenges. I would wonder how a person could ever live on after losing their child. And I would CONSTANTLY hope that somehow, SOMEHOW I can make it through this life without ever having to find these things out first hand.

Becoming a mom to L made me see my own parents in a whole new light - in good ways and bad. I understood things from a new perspective, which has helped me to both forgive them in some ways, and hate them in others.

I will not deny for a second that there are times I wish for JUST A MOMENT of peace. Just a moment when I am not needed by someone. That I could have some uninterrupted time to do something for ME and only ME. That there are times that I wish I could shut off the empathy because I don't know if I can take it any more. That there are times that I long for the freedom and time that I had before kids.

And yet, there isn't ANY WAY that I would change it. I love that little boy so much for ALL the ways he has changed my life; good bad and otherwise. I only hope that we can raise him up right, and that he makes good decisions, and that he loves himself and others around him, and that he lives a long, happy life.

And I will say that I am glad that tonight I will be ringing in the New Year amongst my friends rather than in the hospital in labor, although I would do it over again a million times for him if I had to.

So Happy Birthday my little L, at 3:11 am on Jan 1, I love you more than you will ever know; until you become a Daddy one day yourself.

More saddness

Everyone always says they don't care what sex the baby is, as long as the baby is healthy. And then the baby is born, and the baby is healthy, and everyone is happy.

And then on rolls life. And there are bumps and bruises and colds and flus and infections, but mostly everything is well and you have dreams and hopes for your children and you just go on about life.

And all is well, because the baby was healthy.

But what about when you are just going along, and the baby is healthy, but then the baby is 7, and all of a sudden is no longer healthy?

Some friends of mine found out last Wednesday that their 7 year old son has Ewing Sarcoma, a form of bone cancer.

Right now, they are starting their daunting journey. I cannot stop thinking about them, and wondering how the hell, as a parent, you deal with that? I cannot stop crying. I cannot stop wondering how scared that little boy must be - I know I would be terrified were it me, and he is only 7! When you look up Ewing Sarcoma online, there is talk of surgery and chemo and amputation and metastizing to the lungs and the bone marrow, and deep bone pain and all of that just makes my stomach turn. And I know - he may be alright - he may beat it and live a full life, but what if he doesn't? What if he doesn't and he dies and they have to figure out how to live without him, and HOW do you do that???

I cannot stop looking at my boys and imagining if it were them how I would feel and how I would deal with it, and hopinghopingHOPING that I NEVER EVER EVER have to find out. Please oh PLEASE god or God or Goddess or Karma or Universe or dumb luck or WHATEVER, please oh please do not ever let me have to find out firsthand.

And I keep thinking how your life, your whole WORLD can be turned upside down in a split second, at any time and how down right SHITTY life can be at times.

And I am so sad for them.

A sad day...

The matriarch of this family had a massive heart attack last night and is currently in critical condition, on life support and in an induced coma, at the hospital.

I am supposed to be working; I NEED to be working, but all I can think about is this family and the ache this is causing in the pit of my stomach.

I stopped by her room this morning because I had to be at the hospital anyway for work, in the exact wing she happened to be located, and I couldn't NOT stop. I didn't want to intrude, but I felt compelled to express my love and to let the family know I was thinking of them and that I was available if they needed ANYTHING.

I only stayed about two minutes, and didn't even enter the room; the whole situation felt sacred - something to be shared by the family. But the daughter (whom the letter was initally sent to) assured me that I was not, in fact, intruding, and thanked me for stopping. She mentioned the letter and said how it had had a very large impact on her mother; how proud and happy it had made her, and how they had talked about it often. All in all, I am very glad that I did stop.

That entire family means a lot to me, and has for the majority of my life. I am very saddened today. The prognosis at this point is not good - they will be doing some additional testing today. I am hoping and sending my love and energy their way.

And now I am going to try to get some work done.