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Yonder - I Found It!Memorable Moments in My Life 4/4/2009 TELEPHONESWhen I was a child, there was only one real form of communication, other than in person, and that was the telephone. The regular, everyone had one - some had party lines (like we did for years after moving upstate New York to live on my maternal Grandfather's land) big receiver on a cradle... rings the same all over type of telephone. It was a big deal when we didn't have to dial any more... touch tone option was so cool!
I don't remember cellular phones entering the scene until I was in my teens... they were probably around before then, but not in my life. The original cell phones didn't get reception anywhere other than in the middle of the city, and then only if not blocked by a tall building or lots of steel, and they were huge... you almost needed two hands to hold them to your ear. Actually, as the companies began making cell phones smaller and smaller it seemed un-natural to me... to be smaller than a regular phone's receiver? How could an entire phone be contained in such a small thing?
Well, once I adjusted, a cellular phone seems to be almost surgically installed in my hand. I never go anywhere without mine, and everyone I know has one... including each of my nephews... the smallest of whom just turned 10 years old. Imagine. 10 years old and he has his own cell phone.
Well, I've gone one better... or is it worse? I can't help it... ever since my little Dillon could reach out for something, he's always reached out for my cell phone. No wonder... I was on one almost constantly while I was pregnant, and since his birth have kept all my family members up to date on his progress, and every second of his cuteness. I take pictures and video with my phone and text and e-mail all my family and friends... daily it seems.
When I changed cell phone companies and my old phone wasn't compatible with my new company, forcing me to buy a new phone, I decided to let my little baby boy have my old phone. I keep it charged so that when he hits the buttons it beeps and puts colorful numbers on the screen, and he can push several different buttons (you'd think he knew what he was pushing by his concentration) and get pictures of himself as a baby, and of my chihuahua, Precious. Dillon absolutely LOVES phones!
My husband B got him a fake cell phone that beeps and chirps and has little sayings "Hello... can I help you?" or "Hello... who is it?"... listen to the same thing over and over and over and over again for a while and you'll be ready to smash the thing or run over it with the car... ooops!! Dillon NEVER seemed to tire of it though... he'd put it down for a while, but he always remembered where it was, and he'd kind of 'wake up' every once in a while and go find it to check for... well, I can only assume he was checking for messages or missed calls.
I got him one too, when he lost the first one... actually I think this is the third or fourth one... lets see.. he had a red flip phone... a regular blue one... and a smaller silver one... yup, this is the fourth one... it's a "handy Manny" phone... it has the song, and the voices of the different characters on the different keys. Dillon likes it, but he's not in love with it. I think he's almost old enough for his own REAL cell phone.
He must call his Nana (his paternal Grandmother) every day. He will actually seek out my cell phone (no matter how well I hide it... the annoying thing WILL sing a song every time I get an e-mail, so Dillon follows the sound) and once he finds it, he points and says quite loudly, and clearly... NAAAANUUUHHHHHHH!!!!! He want's to talk to her on the phone. He actually does. I'll dial the phone, and put it on speaker phone. Nana answers the phone and Dillon either yells out "HEY!!!!" in a long drawn out kind of way, or he identifies himself clearly with a loud "Deeyahnnnn!!!"... and his Nana is perfect. She talks to him... keeps asking him questions... what are you doing? Nana Loves you! How's my boy? Is that Nana's boy? He's tickled, and ACTUALLY TALKS BACK TO HER... I've never seen a child do this... not at his age, that's for sure.
He'll put the phone up to his forehead, and while he stares at the numbers close to his little eyes he'll start mumbling to Nana..."ummm... bum de mama unn tooo.... bops... nnnn um mow nah.. naaanaaahhhhh" and then he's quiet while waiting for her response... and she'll say "Oh really? Have you been playing? Are you having fun playing? Are you there? Talk to Nana"... and then he'll hold the phone away from him... at arms length... and he'll shout "Ummm... Naaaaaa nuhhhhhhh!!!!" and then crack up laughing as if he's just told the funniest joke.
I'm wondering how long I can go before I have to get him his own phone for real... with his own minute plan... I bet I'll have to get unlimited texting. His favorite shows are "Super Why", a spelling word show, "Sesame Street", Elmo's World in particular, "Word World", another word/spelling show, and "Barney"... lots of singing and words and counting... he loves the learning shows.
I love watching him learn... it's just awesome! I can't get over this little guy... he constantly amazes me.
3/30/2009 A MOTHER'S LOVENo matter what anyone tells you to prepare you for the love you'll have for your child... no matter how huge they make it sound or what they compare it to... and everyone who is already a mother will spend time telling you what to expect while you're expecting... no one can ever come close to the reality.
Actually, I almost felt deficient at first. I was supposed to have this huge feeling wash over me... I was supposed to be overwhelmed by my unrecognizable emotions as soon as I saw my son. What no one tells you is that BECAUSE your emotions are so HUGE... so overwhelming... so unrecognizable because you've never felt anything close to it before... you DON'T know you're having them until much later. Let me explain.
While the doctors were opening up my abdomen and taping it to a bar, reaching inside me to wrench my baby out of me, and identifying my baby as "yup, its a boy", I was holding my breath... holding my emotions... holding... holding... holding. My only conscious thougts were "GOD... make him alright... please make him alright" and "Why isn't he crying? Why can't I hear him cry?" Unconsciously I was interested in the fact that I could feel everything they were doing to me, but had no pain (cool!)... I was waiting with bated breath to hear my son cry... I was vaguely aware of B filming the procedure, standing somewhere to my left... I was wondering why my arms had to be taped down out to my sides on these boards, like I was on a cross or something... I was listening intently to hear if a nurse or doctor said something that wasn't quite... right.
The intensity of the relief I felt when I heard Dillon's first cry (sounded a little weak... is he ok? I thought) and then his huge and very annoyed second cry (relief flooded me... OH GOOD... his lungs are fine... he's ok) was followed by such a huge surge of motherly protection (Doc, is he ok? Everything is good, right?) and concern (B - don't you leave our baby... you stay with him B!)and love - overwhelming, complete, all consuming love - that I didn't identify it as such until a couple of weeks later, upon reflection. All I could do was laugh and cry at the same time (caught on tape).
From that moment on my every waking, and dreaming thought was about my son. I was impatient for the doctor to sew me back up because I had to get to my son and feed him... Dillon must be hungry after the ordeal of birth... he must be missing me - if he doesn't hear his mama he's going to think I abandoned him. I consciously had stroked his cheek with my finger as I spoke calmly to him after he'd been wrapped up and was being held by my face so I could see him before they took him to the nursery... I told him mama would be right there... I love you baby... do you know it's your mama?... do you recognize my voice now you're out?... be a good boy and don't worry because daddy will stay with you until I can be there... I love you Dillon... I promise I'll be right there... then they took him away... I called out to B - Don't you leave him! Make sure you can see him at all times!! Stay WITH the baby... do you hear me B? I was terrified something would happen to him now... how could I protect him now he was out of me?
When I was told he was in ICU because his sugars had bottomed out I was frantic to get to him. I'd seen movies and heard stories and read all kinds of examples of how babies needed their mommies when they were ill... they healed better when mama was there. I couldn't fathom NOT being by my son's side. The nurses had me hooked up to a morphine drip for my pain and they said I had to stay in recovery for 2 hours, or until I could move my extremities, then would be moved to my room where I had to wait for them to bring me my baby. UH... NO. Ten minutes after I was put in recovery I was moving my toes (wow, you're a quick recoverer)... yeah... I need to see my baby. They made me wait 1 hour instead of 2 then moved me to my room.
I kept insisting my son needed to breast feed... I didn't want them to bottle feed him... bring me to my son. The nurses said I had to wait until the afternoon and we'd see if I could get up or not based on how much pain I was in and how much I needed of the morphine drip. I said take it out now... I don't need it... I need to see my son. They smiled and said they'd be back later to check on me. I never pushed the button for the first dose of morphine. I didn't feel physical pain at all... I was only concerned about my son... everyone who came by to check on me was amazed I was still awake and hadn't used any pain medication... TAKE ME TO MY SON... he needs me.
Finally, Dillon was born at 9:13 am, and finally, at 3 pm, the nurse came in with a wheel chair and started to tell me if I could get up she'd take me to Dillon... by the time she finished saying it I was on my feet and turning around to back into the wheel chair. I tapped my toes on the foot rests... I strained to hear my baby's cries... my husband B was by my side, walking with us to the ICU. They opened the big hallway doors and I said to B... that's Dillon... he's crying. He said I couldn't know that and I told him I KNEW my child. We sanitized our hands and as they wheeled me closer I could hear my baby crying... it WAS him... B was impressed. I got to my baby's side and reached my hand toward him... I began stroking his cheek and talking softly to him and he quieted down.
For the next 3 days I went down to ICU every 3 hours, on the hour, to feed and comfort my baby. The nurses wanted me to rest... I wanted to be with my baby. I wasn't tired. The imensity of the love I have for my Dillon kept me sane, awake, and consumed with making my baby well. Once his sugars were regulated we were allowed to take him home... and it was only delayed 1 day... everyone was surprised... not me... I knew he was going home with me. Either that or they'd better set something up for me to stay there... I wouldn't leave until Dillon went with me.
I know now that my motivation at the time was the all consuming love I feel for my Dillon... then I just DID... I did what I had to do for my child... and I felt like I was missing that love... why didn't I feel it? Why didn't I recognize the all consuming love feeling? I know now that I was looking for a feeling I could recognize as love... something I was familiar with. The love of a mother for her child is not anything she's ever felt before her baby's birth.
That love that consumed me during my second marriage... where I lived and breathed my husband... where I physically hurt if we were separated for any time at all... the love that had me unable to form a sentence without him in it... the love that made me do everything in life not just for me, but for US... the love that didn't let me breathe without making sure he was breathing first... that was nothing like the love I have for my son. That love pales in comparison... can it even be called "love" now that I know the real raw emotion?
Since his birth, Dillon has been all there is. Yes, I'm married, and I love my husband B, and I'm concerned for his comfort and his happiness... but there is no contest between him and Dillon... if my child needs, he gets... if he's curious, I will find a way to satisfy his curiosity... if he's hungry, he gets fed first, no matter who else is hungry... if he's bored, something gets done to entertain him, or tempt his mind... to teach him something. I don't indulge his every whim because I don't want him to be spoiled rotten... spoiled, yes, but rotten -no. If he throws a tantrum, he's ignored... no attention for bad behavior. If he shows a healthy interest in something, it's encouraged.
I used to say I'd die for any member of my family... that's nothing compared to what I'd go through for my son. I'd endure torture for my son. I put aside my own likes, dislikes, wants and desires... all that matters is that Dillon feel loved and safe and secure... and that he be surrounded by love and peace.
3/29/2009 INFANTILE COMMUNICATIONI have often thought that babies have a language all their own... they understand what they're saying even though the rest of us don't have much of a clue. As to whether babies understand one another... I think to a certain extent they do, but I don't think actual speech is required... at least, not all the time. I have seen complete (I believe) conversations take place with gestures, small sounds, raised or squinched eyebrows, mouth shapes, and body language between my son and other babies. I say complete conversations because there is an obvious greeting, (Dillon gets a big smile on his face and he says "Heyyyy!!"), the "body" of the communication over a few minutes time, and then an obvious dismissal of eachother... after which both babies have contented, "At least I got my point across" looks on their faces and they move on to the next thing... whatever that may be.
As for communication between myself and my son... it's very interesting, and rather frustrating... to us both I think. One of the first words he ever said was "Deuce" for Juice... which now is more clearly "Juice"... or he'll say "bah bah" for his "bottle". There are other obvious words... or, what he uses for words to describe certain things... such as; "bops", which are grapes; "naaanaaas", obviously, banana's - not to be confused with "Naahhnuuuhhh", his paternal grandmother (sounds a lot alike and sometimes only the body language or hand gestures make the distinction).
He says "gog" for dog, "this" and "that" very clearly are just what he's saying, "bup" is sippy cup, "mama" or "mamayeee" is my name, and "dada" or "dadayeee" for his father. He says "skichchk" for chicken, and will answer "essss" for yes and a clear, drawn out "noooooo?" (always sounds like a question) for no. If he needs his diaper changed and I ask him if he wants me to do it, he blows air out between his lips vibrating them as if to say "yeah, it's yucky in there", sometimes he will even bring me a diaper... here mom... get the hint?
He says "bone" drawn out, very clearly, so I'll let him give doggie bones to our dog, Elvis. The word "ball" is very clear, and means just that.. he has a base ball, a basket ball (miniature), a foot ball (actually he has one nerf, one leather, and three stuffed), several wiffle balls, cloth balls, small plastic balls for various toys, and a couple of bouncy balls of different sizes... can you guess what his daddy wants him to do when he grows up? Might have something to do with BALLS... and actually I don't think B cares what kind, as long as Dillon is involved with some kind of sport through school, and if he has the smallest ounce of ability, that he pursues it as far as he can.
He will put his tiny finger on a button and say "Butt?" a zillion times a day... I think it's one of his favorite words. Pointing to any light, on or off, he says "laaa?", and most recently, his favorite question "Eh?" is reserved for when in the bath tub and he sits down in the water filling the tub, grabs hold of his privates and pulls as if to take them off... I always answer "penis... that's Dillon's penis" and he responds with the sound of the letter "p"... "Puh? Puh?", and I say "yes, baby, that's Dillon's penis". He smiles and goes on with his bath, gatherin his floaty toys and identifying them... "baaaaalll?" "duck?"
Dillon will point to a tiny picture of a duck on the plastic travel case for his baby wipes and very clearly identify it... "DUCK". When Sesame Street comes on it's a loud "uhMOHHHHH" for Elmo, and "BAAAAAAA" for Barney (stupid big purple dinosaur... I never wanted my child to like that show, but what can I do? His dad got him into it, and of course... the kid is in love). He clearly says "Ba Baiii", with a southern accent (I dreaded that happening... I feel like moving IMMEDIATELY to avoid any further contamination... :) for "bye bye" and waves both hands, palms up and fingers curling back toward himself.
Once in a while I truly believe he says phrases, or sentences... which are clearly understood... though I'm not sure if he actually means them as what they are when he says them. "I yah you" was also one of the first things he said, and though I think he can say it clearly, and he knows what it means, he reserves it for very quiet times, like waking up in the middle of the night, and said very softly... almost making me think I've immagined it... in response to me cuddling him and soothing him back to sleep... all the while telling him "I love you baby... I love you so much... you know mama loves you, right?... you're ok... shhhhh..." and then he says it.
That's the intelligible communication between us. Then there's all the stuff I guess at... which sometimes I think impresses him because I guess correctly, but most often frustrates the poor little dude terribly because I haven't got a clue. He'll be jabbering on... often making exactly the same sounds over and over, using hand gestures and trying to lead me where he wants me to go, or show me what he wants me to see... and I'm clueless. I guess... is THIS what you want? No? Ok, what is it Dillon? Oh... is it this? (hope in my voice) No? Ok, I'm sorry baby... what is it? Tell mama... and he looks at me as if to say "are you kidding? I've been telling you for 10 minutes now and you're still clueless"... and we try again. Often either he or I will give up in frustration and a desire to just move on... when he does I'm gratefull... when I do he's annoyed and kicks up a bit of a fuss until I can distract him... at which time he completely forgets what he originally wanted... for a while. He will invariably get reminded at some point and try again... that's good though, right? Persistence is a good thing to develop... and patience, which he's sorely lacking.
It's all such a wonderful journey for me. I am having a blast with my little Doo... his nick names have grown from just "Doobie" to either "Doobie Doo" or "Doobie" or "Doo" or "Dewie"... or a long drawn out "Dewwwwwwww"... he answers to them all... including his real name, "Dillon". His dady calls him "Buddy", which he also answers to. I wonder if he knows what his real name is? Even our friends in church call him "Dew" or "Doobie".
We play together with his musical toys every day. I read his little cardboard books to him... over and over and over again, and very seldom from front to back... usually he hands one to me opened to a page, where I start reading, and I often only get to read just that one page, or a couple of pages along, and then he takes back the book and mumble-reads a page to me before being done with it, discarding it, and moving on to the next thing on his agenda... and he does have an agenda. I know this because if I should happen to suggest something, or begin to do something I might be interested in... if I initiate playing with something that wasn't part of his original agenda he very clearly stops me, removes whatever it is I'm playing with, and pointedly gets me involved with what HE had in mind... no mama, not the helicopter with music and balls, we're going to play with my red barn with the music and animals instead. Or, no, I don't want to read a book now, here's my BAAAALLLLLL, and he'll chuck it at me.
I try to make his television programs interactive, rather than passive. I read that television encourages passive learning and so makes it more difficult for children once they go to school to be interested in interactive learning, which is of course what they NEED to be able to do in order to succeed in school. I'll get him clapping with the kids on the programs, or dancing, or point out colors and compare them to his clothing or toys. I'll sing with the songs, the a b c's or counting or whatever they're singing and grab Dillon up and dance around the room with him. He laughs and claps and really gets into it.
Well, that's enough for now. Can you tell my favorite subject any more is my little man? He is my best. He is my love. My miracle and my life from now until eternity... I can't get enough of him. I'll try to post some pictures here soon... I have to find my download cord for my camera first though. I'll post more soon. Take care! 3/27/2009 HE'S AMAZINGI have a friend, "C", who is going to have open heart surgery tomorrow morning. He's a wonderful person, so kind and caring... a good father, a good Christian, a good husband to his wife of almost 31 years, and a good friend to my husband since they were children. My husband, B, used to "run with" C's brother... they were inseparable for many years. When they got older and both had families and responsibilities, my husband (who was not my husband back then) went the way of drugs and drinking, and his buddy went the way of responsible adult, working and taking care of his family... they drifted apart. That was when B got closer to C... they partied together.
Years later, after they'd lost contact with one another, B found out that C was saved. For 8 years B had that knowledge in the back of his drunk and drugging mind. Every time he thought he'd like to get out of the party scene... every time he thought that maybe he could do it, he had C in his mind as proof it could be done... as an encouragement to making changes in his own life. Each time he heard about C it was good news... he was still going to church, he had his own business and it was doing well, his family was well and most of them were in church regularly... B could look at that and hope that one day he'd have the strength to ask God's forgiveness for the things he'd done in his life, and hopefully begin to live a good, clean, blessed life... like C was doing.
Oddly enough, after B and I found out I was pregnant on August 2, 2007, B admitted he'd gone back to drinking and drugging (which he'd been telling me he was NOT doing back then), and he said he needed God's help to stop, he couldn't do it on his own (he said this to get me to be patient with him and hang on with him hoping he'd change)... he said we were going to go to church. We didn't go... weeks went by. Then, finally, mid month, B woke me up one Sunday morning and said we were going to church. I said ok and got dressed... I asked which one we were going to and he said he didn't know... we'd just drive around and see where God directed us to go. OK. We got in the car and he started driving. We didn't drive around... we drove straight to New Haven Church.. DIRECTLY... no circles, no extra turns, no backtracking, no asking for directions or finding a flyer to guide us... GOD drove the car straight there.
I hadn't been in a church in years, and I was feeling a little apprehensive about going. From the second we walked in the door, I felt like I'd come home. Now, their practices during worship were very different from anything I'd ever dealt with before... these people shouted "Halelujah" and "Glory" and "Amen" all through the service... there were shouts of "Tell it Brother!" and "Oh yeah!" and "Come on!" during the entire service, from all over the congregation. When the Pastor was praying... out loud for the congregation, as I am used to seeing done in a Church, members from all over the sanctuary were praying too... OUT LOUD... as if they were the ones praying for the congregation... it was deafening... I could barely concentrate to hear the Pastor's words. Although this was confusing and a little... odd... to me, the feeling in the church was a loving one. The atmosphere was full of God... you could feel His Holy Spirit thick as fog in the room... it was almost as visible. All I could pray was THANK YOU GOD for bringing us to this church.
Even more amazing than the good feeling we got from everyone at this church were a few other things... first, the Pastor had known B since he was a child, and he was one of B's familie's best friends and closest spiritual advisors... B was immediately at home in his presence... second, B got a tap on the shoulder from someone in the pew behind us, and when he turned around to see who it was, it was C, his wife, and C's mother. WOW!! B was floored. He knew we were in the right place. I got goose bumps when B told me who they were and introduced me.
I had hope again... I thought, God surely had a hand in this... the service was unfamiliar and a little strange to me, but God wanted us there, I had no doubt... and if B was comfortable and happy, then only good could come of it.
Well, there's much more to the story after that, but this is about C... not the story of how B turned his life around. The point is that C was an integral part of it... he was involved even when he didn't know he was.
After we began going to church there regularly, we also started spending time with C and his wife and family. We took a trip to Gatlinburg together, and we went to Gospel concerts together, and out to dinner a lot, and they came over our house and we went over to theirs quite often... for a while almost every weekend.
I got close to them both. C's attributes of tender kindness, compassion, caring and loving disposition really drew me to him. He and I began talking more often... just by chance at first, he'd call to talk to B and B would be busy so we'd chat a while until B was available... then we'd offer to call one another to impart some information on one thing or another... then I was trying to understand things B was doing and C could see my unhappiness and he would offer me a shoulder to cry on (figuratively speaking), and some insight into B's actions that perhaps I hadn't thought of.
Well, to make a year long story short, C and I became close... as did his wife and myself... they were the only people I could really talk to... similar backgrounds and them knowing B almost better than I could know him... them being longer term christians than B and I, and therefore examples to us... lots of things just drew me to them over time.
Now C has 90% blockage in one of his ventricles of his heart. He's been in the hospital two days now, during which they first did an EKG which seemed fine, then to be sure they kept him and did a radioactive isotope nuclear stress test on him the next morning, which he failed miserably, letting the doctors know there must be some blockage, so they scheduled a heart catheter test for the following morning (yesterday), and he failed that one too... well, actually it wasn't a pass or fail, but a "how bad is it" test... they could have put a stint in then and there if it wasn't bad. It was bad... 90% blocked. So now he's scheduled for open heart surgery in the morning, and I feel terrible that I can't be there... I'm working until 7 am, at which time I have to take care of my baby, who is usually awake by then.
B is going to go to the hospital and sit and wait with C's wife... he didn't even want to do that and I stressed how important it was... B is jealous of my friendship with C... but then again B is jealous of my friendship with anyone who takes my time or enery away from him for even a second. He's so manipulative of me that he'll just keep saying snide things and making rude comments to me about something until he's got me doing exactly what he wants how he wants me to do it just so I can get him to shut up.
B can't stand it that I've pointed out C's good qualities that I admire to him from time to time as something B could learn from... it irks him... oh well. Perhaps if B worked on his qualities a little... gave me more attention... treated me with a little respect and didn't belittle me in front of other people... perhaps if B recognized my good attributes once in a while rather than always harping on my bad ones... so much so that he makes me doubt my self, then I wouldn't notices so markedly someone else who actually does recognize and SAY it, when I do something nice or special. Perhaps I wouldn't have to point out the marked difference in how they treat strangers... in what kind of friends they are... in how they treat their wives... or their children.
I don't care if B is jealous of C. That's his own problem. C and I have done nothing inappropriate... we have never stepped over the best friend's wife.... husbands best friend line... we don't meet for lunch or spouse bash or anything like that. I appreciate C for his qualities and insight into B's actions... I appreciate his advice and his sense of humor and love of God. I think he appreciates the same things in me. If B can't be a grown up and just deal with that, then too bad for him.
At this point in time, I'm afraid for my good friend, who I love very much. I am praying constantly for God to let C get well... for God to guide the surgeons hands in the morning and make them fix C's problems and for God to let him stay here on earth with his loved ones for a little while more. C wants to see his grandkids grow up... he wants to spend twilight years with his wife and family, and he wants to continue his ministry for God... please God, give him his wishes.
Selfishly, I pray, Dear God, please don't take C out of my life either... so many times his counsel and love has helped me through a bad time with B... so many times when I thought I was at the end of my rope I turned to C and he comforted me and told me to pray the pain away... C has helped me get closer to you, God... more than my own husband has... please don't let him die. These are my prayers for C... please God.. protect him, and whatever happens, let it be according to Your perfect will. In Jesus's name, Amen.
3/22/2009 CHANGESAs I think of the last year and a half of my life I realize that I've not only gone through a lot of changes, physically and emotionally, but also in how I look at life, in how I plan my future, and with regard to what I will and will not accept in my life now.
As for physical changes, I went through a pregancy... that was VERY interesting. Getting a bigger tummy than I already have was not such a horrid thing, though being able to legitimately wear maternity clothes was fun... I could finally answer YES to the "are you expecting" question... which I've been asked many times by many people over the years... just because of the way I carry my extra poundage... much of it around my middle. That was a dreaded question for so long... and then I wanted people to ask... I would volunteer the info if those around me just glanced with a question in their eyes... proud to finally be able to say I was pregnant.
Strangely enough, though I guess it's because I was so careful with what I ate and drank while I was pregnant, I actually was thinner after giving birth (well, cesaerean birth) than I was before. I was thinner than I'd been in years, and it felt good. All my clothes were big and hanging on me, and despite my swolen abdomen (which I was told was completely normal and would last from a couple of months to a year before it went down to normal again) I was still smaller. Yay! If other changes in my life hadn't taken over my life, I might have kept it off... however... that didn't happen, and I gained it all back within about 6 months.
As for how I've changed emotionally... well, the focus of my life has shifted... it's not me, or my husband any more... now everything is for, because of, in mind of, planning for, and living for my son. Should I buy these shoes? Well, first, do we have enough diapers, wipes, his favorite foods, snacks... then household groceries, then gas in the car, then bills paid... and by then, the answer is no... there isn't enough money. The thing is though, I don't mind. As long as my little Doo has what he needs, everything else can be worked out or done without... and I don't mind. I would think I'd resent it, but I don't... I actually like knowing that if I'm not getting stuff, it's because my little man is.
Prior to Dillon's birth I would just do whatever I wanted to do whenever I wanted to do it. If bills had to wait because I felt like using my money to take a weekend trip, then so be it. If I was living with $5 in my pocket for a week because I was making up for misspending money the week before, that was ok because it was just me and I could make do with whatever I had in the fridge and cabinets to eat, and put my last dollar in the gas tank to get back and forth to work. If I had a few extra dollars I could buy family birthday and holiday gifts and it was no big deal... I felt good doing it.
Now it's different. I didn't worry about anything before... not material things anyway. I didn't care what neighborhood I lived in... it was just me. I didn't care who I hung out with... it only affected me, and I am grown up enough and independant enough to listen to and absorb what I want and disregard or discard what I don't. Whether or not I had a successful career didn't affect anyone but myself... whether or not I had a job with benefits didn't matter either... I'd worry about that when I got older and needed medical care on a regular basis... I could handle my diabetes myself. Now all of those things DO matter because I have a son. I care where he's raised and around whom. I care what he hears and sees around him. I care that I don't have a long lasting career that will provide for him for years to come. I care that I have no health insurance and so have to rely on state programs for his health care (thank goodness Georgia has good programs for children). I care that I have no life insurance to make him comfortable if something happens to me. I care that my diabetes is not as under control as it should be... as it would be with regular doctor's visits... because it affects my energy level and my mentality, and that spills over to what I have or don't have to offer my Dillon each day.
I used to worry all the time about my husband and his attitudes... what he'd want me to do or not do... how he was going to react to something I did, or something I'd said... what he wanted and when... not obsessed, but constantly aware of his needs and desires so that I could, first, please him (so that he would love me more), and second, avoid conflict or fights (so that he would love me more and I didn't have to deal with the emotional pain of the discord). Now, I don't worry so much about him.
I don't really care if we have conflicts, or if he's completely happy with me or not... it doesn't matter as much as making sure my child is raised in love and peace. If there are difficulties between B and I, I don't want them expressed around or in front of my son... I don't want that in his head, so now, if B gets angry, I remove myself and my Doo from the area and leave B to stew in his own anger. If he's unhappy with something, I think for a minute to determine if it's my fault or not, I don't just assume it is any more... if it's his own hang up or something I am not responsible for or able to change easily, I either tell him that I can't or am not willing to do anything about it and leave it up to him to handle after that, or I just ignore him completely and concentrate on making sure my child is stress free and happy.
Sometimes it's difficult to do that... B has a very harsh tone to his voice just naturally, so when he's angry or upset, even if he's not actually yelling, his voice can sound very angry and stern... and I see it affect Dillon. Even when B is just yelling at the dog (always using terms that I'd rather my son not hear on a regular basis... thing's like "I'll KILL you Elvis (dogs name)... I'll just KILL you!!" or he'll say "I'll bust you in the mouth Elvis" or sometimes, in a kind of stern mocking tone, not just to the dog, but even to Dillon sometimes "Are you crazy or something? HUH? You crazy?". He says he's just teasing... just saying stuff fooling around that he doesn't mean, but I don't like those terms going into my son's very impressionable sponge of a brain.
B just thinks I'm ragging on him... that all I do is look for reasons to disapprove of him... he gets all offended when I point out the inappropriate terms saying, that's who he is, and he's sorry that I don't like who he is. I tell him that it's not WHO he is, because who he is happens to be a nice decent guy, it's who he acts like... it's how he expresses himself without thinking... it's a throw back to who he used to be, who he used to have to "put out there" for self preservation when he was running with a really rough crowd.
I suppose there are things I put up with before from B... things that really didn't affect me much anyway, so who cared whether he did them or not? For example, all the shows he likes to watch are violent... Dog the Bounty Hunter, Cops, Ultimate Fighting, Prison stories, etc. In the past, I'd just go into another room... or get on the computer, and leave him to watch those things. Now, if the baby is awake, I don't want him watching them... I don't want that kind of stuff being absorbed into my child's brain... especially not at this age... these are his formative years and I'd prefer his mind be filled with educational things, or shows appropriate for a toddler's mind... and I insist on that, which really upsets B.
In the past I put up with, though I made sure B understood I was upset by it, many comments B would make that were very racial in nature. Saying he's "not going to Walmart... that place is slap full of Mexicans", or some other comment that specifically mentioned color, or race or nationality, always bothered me, and I let him know it, but it didn't make much difference, he'd do it anyway... kindof laughing as if it were a joke, but making statements as if they were truths. I argued so many times with him over it, and he always would say he wasn't prejudiced... I would argue that just to have to mention a persons color, race, nationality or religion in relation to who they were, or how they believed, or something they did or didn't do WAS prejudiced and/or judgmental... no matter what he said. People are just people I'd say, and there is never a reason to have to pidgeon hole them or assume they were one way or another based on their color, race, nationality or religion... we are all just children of GOD.
Now I actually get angry whenever he makes those comments... especially in front of my son... I don't want my child growing up thinking like that, and hearing it will put it in his head. B gets upset at me for mentioning it, and he says I misunderstand, he's just fooling around, or he doesn't mean it "that way"... well, Doo is a baby, he doesn't know how to separate... he can'd discern what is inappropriate or not. Unfortunately, B just thinks it's one more thing for me to rag on him about... one more thing I don't like about him... one more thing for me to try to change about him.
A whole new world of worry has opened up for me. I know much is beyond my control, and I'm trying to learn not to stress about those things... the state of the economy in this country and where we're headed politically - I never cared before... I just lived my life the best I could and left all that silly stuff to the politicians and economists. I worry that we might end up in worse wars than we have in a long time and the government will have a draft again and my poor son will be just the right age when it happens (why am I worrying about something that might never happen, and if it does, would be 18 or more years from now?). I think about the killings in schools across the country... stray bullets from drive bys... drunk drivers... corner drug dealers... people in the neighborhood who might have meth labs in their homes which would, on a windy day, affect my sons health... corrupt and or perverted educators or authority figures who might affect my son adversely... the list goes on. I never gave much thought to those things before I had Dillon... I mean, I thought about them and anguished over the disgraceful state of affairs, but not in relation to me or anyone I knew and loved... not with personal fear.
I know that GOD has watched over me all my life. HE has kept me from doing things with negative, long lasting results. HE has directed me to persons I could help, persons who could help me, and to living in places where I was relatively safe, or oblivious to the potential dangers. I have been blessed to have wonderful people in my life... some who hurt me, yes, but even those persons were blessings to me in one way or another, and I learned something from everything and everyone in my life.
I know that GOD has given me my little miracle baby... that HE will continue to watch out over me, and of course, now, over my little man also. I know that the knowledge of that truth should make me less worried and less concerned... but the imperfect human that I am still can't help but worry or stress over so much. I wish I were strong enough to just turn it all over to GOD and let HIM take care of it all... but I'm not. Not any more. Having my son somehow took the self confidence I had and made it a mush. Where before I just KNEW everything would be fine, now I KNOW it, but... what if? I don't doubt GOD or his abilities... but I doubt myself, and so I worry.
I'm sure as time goes on I'll find a healthier balance to all of this, and I know I'll be making my decisions based on (1) What the correct thing to do is in GOD's eyes (as far as I know) and (2) What's the best thing for my son... everything else will fall into place, I hope.
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