Today's Mama Moment was little, but big all at the same time. My big girl was cranky when she woke up, and of course we were running late. She was spitting attitude, but in the car on the way to school she paused to tell me that she was "sorry for being ugly to me this morning," and that she loved me.
Must be doing something right. =)
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Friday, February 8, 2013
Caffeinated nerves...
I have high hopes that tomorrow will be a turning point for our littlest. Tomorrow morning, while Mama and Dada fret in the waiting room, baby girl will get a set of tubes placed in her ears. Simple, easy, routine, hardly-even-surgery, surgery. She'll be fine, and with any luck, she'll be better.
After tomorrow I hope that she can find restful sleep (though the night would be lovely), and find smiles and giggles more often than grimaces and cries. I hope that she'll be able to hear the world clearly, and to know what the voices of love surrounding her really sound like. I hope that she forgets the earache she has had for months, and that tonight is the last night I have to force her to take medicine, and coax her little body back to sleep through obvious pain.
Her surgery will be tougher on me than on her, for sure, and I will count the seconds until she's back in my arms. The anxiety over a nurse taking her from me has already started, but I have to remind myself that she's in good hands. This is my hospital. These are my colleagues. She'll be fine.
Reading another mama's blog yesterday, I was reminded to document something that all too soon will fade into memories. Just as this mama's little girl strokes her arm, when K needs comfort, she puts her fingers in my mouth. My husband says that she has to 'plug in' to recharge. Occasionally she twiddles her fingers, sometimes pinches my lip or my tongue, but usually just rests her fingers gently in my mouth until she falls asleep, or feels better, or both. When she only needs a little extra comfort, sometimes its just one finger, or two... during restless nights of earaches, it's often her whole hand. She's done this since birth, as far back as I can remember... she found her spot, and she claimed it. She's cut my cheek with her nails and pinched that sensitive spot underneath my tongue, but I'll fess up... I will miss it when she doesn't do it anymore. I've learned to talk with a chubby hand in my way, and I've learned to appreciate the specialness of those moments. I laugh and tell her that she can't do it when she's in college, but secretly hope that she'll keep it up for months to come.
Tomorrow after surgery, she'll reach her hand for my mouth, and I'll let her. I don't think it's so much the act itself that soothes her, but the closeness and the warmth. If only a mouth full of baby fingers could be the cure for all of her stresses from here until forever.
After tomorrow I hope that she can find restful sleep (though the night would be lovely), and find smiles and giggles more often than grimaces and cries. I hope that she'll be able to hear the world clearly, and to know what the voices of love surrounding her really sound like. I hope that she forgets the earache she has had for months, and that tonight is the last night I have to force her to take medicine, and coax her little body back to sleep through obvious pain.
Her surgery will be tougher on me than on her, for sure, and I will count the seconds until she's back in my arms. The anxiety over a nurse taking her from me has already started, but I have to remind myself that she's in good hands. This is my hospital. These are my colleagues. She'll be fine.
Reading another mama's blog yesterday, I was reminded to document something that all too soon will fade into memories. Just as this mama's little girl strokes her arm, when K needs comfort, she puts her fingers in my mouth. My husband says that she has to 'plug in' to recharge. Occasionally she twiddles her fingers, sometimes pinches my lip or my tongue, but usually just rests her fingers gently in my mouth until she falls asleep, or feels better, or both. When she only needs a little extra comfort, sometimes its just one finger, or two... during restless nights of earaches, it's often her whole hand. She's done this since birth, as far back as I can remember... she found her spot, and she claimed it. She's cut my cheek with her nails and pinched that sensitive spot underneath my tongue, but I'll fess up... I will miss it when she doesn't do it anymore. I've learned to talk with a chubby hand in my way, and I've learned to appreciate the specialness of those moments. I laugh and tell her that she can't do it when she's in college, but secretly hope that she'll keep it up for months to come.
Tomorrow after surgery, she'll reach her hand for my mouth, and I'll let her. I don't think it's so much the act itself that soothes her, but the closeness and the warmth. If only a mouth full of baby fingers could be the cure for all of her stresses from here until forever.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Jumping in...
Today's Mama Moment... Here we go.
Why blog? Why not? I'm a mom, just like so many others, who needs an outlet. A place to write about the oddities in life and those bizarre parenting moments that you can hardly believe actually happened. Most recently... "We do not lick our shoes" and "Don't put the raisins in your bellybutton." Yeah, toddlers are fun. I also need an outlet for the heavy emotions that come with motherhood. The tears and the joys and the questions that we'll never know the answers to. I read somewhere (probably Pinterest, if I had to guess) that when you become a mother, you forever walk around with your heart outside of your body. Never has a more true sentiment been said.
While I'm dealing with the day-to-day, I've recently come to truly recognize how lucky I am to be caught up in "normal." My biggest struggles with my girls involve pre-tween bad behavior and drug resistant ear infections. While I sit here blogging about normalcy, countless Mamas are sitting and watching their children fight for their lives. Babies fighting cancer and other unimaginable horrors. Babies who never get to go to the park, while I often find excuses to avoid taking my girls for an hour of swinging and sliding. Babies who have lived their whole lives getting blood draws, chemo, spinal taps, bone marrow aspirations, and other painful and miserable procedures, while I shed tears over a few antibiotic shots in the chubby thigh of a 1 year old and the fear of anesthesia for a routine tube placement. I am lucky. You probably are too.
So tonight... when the cranky baby, with the ear infection from hell, wails at 1:30am, I'm going to do the same thing I did last night. I'm going to hold her, comfort her, take her out to the couch with me, and thank my lucky stars that the only battle she is fighting is a miserable earache. I'm going to do my best to make her feel better, and use this experience as a lesson in thankfulness and appreciation.
And when I can hardly keep my eyes open tomorrow, I will prep the 8 year old and her Daddy for their first Girl Scout Father/Daughter Cake Decorating event, and I will smile. I'll drink more coffee than any one person really should, and I'll be thankful for that sleepless night. A night with a crying baby in my arms, looking to me for love and comfort. And then I'll think about a baby boy, all the way on the other side of the country, whose Mama wishes more than anything that she could pick him up and hold him. I will think about her struggle to decide how long to keep fighting, and how long to keep hoping for her miracle. That baby has taught me a wonderful lesson, and no matter what the outcome of their story may be, he and his family have been an inspiration to this Mama. Baby Matthew has made me see my life just a little bit differently, and appreciate a night (more like a month's worth of nights) that I would have otherwise complained about.
Perspective is a powerful thing.
Why blog? Why not? I'm a mom, just like so many others, who needs an outlet. A place to write about the oddities in life and those bizarre parenting moments that you can hardly believe actually happened. Most recently... "We do not lick our shoes" and "Don't put the raisins in your bellybutton." Yeah, toddlers are fun. I also need an outlet for the heavy emotions that come with motherhood. The tears and the joys and the questions that we'll never know the answers to. I read somewhere (probably Pinterest, if I had to guess) that when you become a mother, you forever walk around with your heart outside of your body. Never has a more true sentiment been said.
While I'm dealing with the day-to-day, I've recently come to truly recognize how lucky I am to be caught up in "normal." My biggest struggles with my girls involve pre-tween bad behavior and drug resistant ear infections. While I sit here blogging about normalcy, countless Mamas are sitting and watching their children fight for their lives. Babies fighting cancer and other unimaginable horrors. Babies who never get to go to the park, while I often find excuses to avoid taking my girls for an hour of swinging and sliding. Babies who have lived their whole lives getting blood draws, chemo, spinal taps, bone marrow aspirations, and other painful and miserable procedures, while I shed tears over a few antibiotic shots in the chubby thigh of a 1 year old and the fear of anesthesia for a routine tube placement. I am lucky. You probably are too.
So tonight... when the cranky baby, with the ear infection from hell, wails at 1:30am, I'm going to do the same thing I did last night. I'm going to hold her, comfort her, take her out to the couch with me, and thank my lucky stars that the only battle she is fighting is a miserable earache. I'm going to do my best to make her feel better, and use this experience as a lesson in thankfulness and appreciation.
And when I can hardly keep my eyes open tomorrow, I will prep the 8 year old and her Daddy for their first Girl Scout Father/Daughter Cake Decorating event, and I will smile. I'll drink more coffee than any one person really should, and I'll be thankful for that sleepless night. A night with a crying baby in my arms, looking to me for love and comfort. And then I'll think about a baby boy, all the way on the other side of the country, whose Mama wishes more than anything that she could pick him up and hold him. I will think about her struggle to decide how long to keep fighting, and how long to keep hoping for her miracle. That baby has taught me a wonderful lesson, and no matter what the outcome of their story may be, he and his family have been an inspiration to this Mama. Baby Matthew has made me see my life just a little bit differently, and appreciate a night (more like a month's worth of nights) that I would have otherwise complained about.
Perspective is a powerful thing.
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