Why Hayden's Heart...

Two years ago or I guess more already I came across a Facebook page called Prayer Page for Baby Hayden. It showed up in my news feed often because friends of mine had already liked the page. I skimmed past it probably a dozen times or more before ever actually clicking on it to see what exactly it was about. I rarely ever "liked" pages but this one was different. The profile picture was the sweetest orange haired baby I had ever seen. Knowing it was a prayer page I was hesitant to find out more because I knew the story behind that beautiful babe was probably a heart breaking one. But he was oh so beautiful and even in a picture his eyes were magnetic. His smile... pure joy. And so I had to know why was this precious little one in need of prayers.

This was June 2012. I clicked the link. Read the most current post and then read backwards to the very beginning.  The journey of Hayden Jeter Dorsett and his family. Born with Hypoblastic Left Heart Syndrome. A rare congenital heart defect where the left ventricle of the heart is  severely underdeveloped. This sweet baby living with only half a heart.

"Prayer Page for Baby Hayden" was started before Hayden was here. Diagnosed with this rare condition while still safe in his mama's belly... Ady, Hayden's mother made this page for the only thing she knew would help other than modern medicine and a miracle... the power of prayer. Never asking for more than anything than prayer. And there were plenty of people praying for this babe. Hayden's page has over 20,000 followers.

I read all the posts. Hundreds of them. Happy ones. Sad ones. Hopeful posts. Disheartened posts. Always ever asking for one thing "Please pray for Hayden". And so I did. I found myself thinking about and praying for Hayden and his family often. We included Hayden's name in the nightly prayers that my oldest son said. Hayden quickly became a household name. I was so invested in his story. Felt in someway connected to his mother even though we had never met. Our lives were so similar. Me and her are about the same age. Living only minutes away from one another. Both had two little boys close in age. The only thing that separated us was that her baby had half a heart. That one thing made a world of difference. A difference that I could not begin to imagine. And so I did the only thing I could I kept Hayden in our thoughts and prayers and through that he made his way into our hearts.

I kept up with his page. Always looking for updates. Always hopeful. For days there was nothing. I prayed that meant there was nothing to report. Still nothing... and then "Hayden Jeter Dorsett 3/12/12 - 8/16/12". I read that and literally gasped. I stared at the screen with tears rolling down my cheeks. Weeping for a baby I never met. I felt a pain deep in my chest and couldn't even bear to think of what state his mother must be in. I know from tragedy with in my own family that there are somethings that change you forever. Change the dynamic of your family. The course of your life. Some things are so sad there are no words for them.

For days, weeks, I could not stop thinking about Hayden and his mom. Could not stop thinking about how similar our lives were and how different they would now forever be. I was plagued by the thought that there was nothing that made our circumstances so different but random misguided chance. I could have easily been her.

I racked my brain for some reasonable gesture, some sort of kindness or comfort that I could offer her grieving heart. But what? I knew there was nothing that I could ever do. But doing nothing wasn't an option. One day in the mall I came across a necklace in the shape of a heart with a tiny pearl just sitting in the middle. I bought it and decided that even though I could not make things better I could let this heartbroken mom know she wasn't alone. Let her know that her baby wouldn't be forgotten. Let her know that Hayden would always been in our heart. His life had touched ours and I know thousands of others.

It is said that no one is truly gone until the last person has spoken their name. If that is true Ady has no need to worry about her sweet Hayden being forgotten. Since Hayden's passing his family has set up a foundation in his name called "Hayden's Heart". It is a non profit 501c3 charity dedicated to keeping Hayden's memory alive. Raising CHD awareness. And helping other heart families with their medical and travel expenses.

I told my husband about the necklace and that I was going to stop by Ady's house to give it to her. He looked at me like I had completely lost my mind. "Go to her house?! Are you nuts? You don't know them! You can't just ring her bell and be like here's a necklace for you!" But that is kinda what I did. I felt like I needed to meet her. In person. Hear about her beautiful babe first hand. After all he had a significant impact on my life. In so many ways... she needed to know that.  Of course I had been reading their story for months and as much as I felt like I knew them she had no idea who I was. Nonetheless she opened her door. And invited me in. I don't know if it was the mom bond or what but I felt like we were instantly friends... and have been since.

I can not say enough good things about the Dorsett family. They have done so much good for so many others. Touched so many lives. Simply because Hayden lived. I know that more than anything Ady wishes Hayden was just like every other baby with a whole heart known only by his family and friends... and while if I could grant anyone just one wish it would for sure be just that... but Hayden, he wasn't like every other baby. Hayden was a angel among us with big big plans. Bigger than anyone could imagine and his mom. Well she isn't just any mom. She is simply amazing. I know she doesn't see herself as a strong person... rather just doing the only thing she can to get through this new life... but she is a hero to so many. Hayden being her number one fan. She and her husband have done so much good in his name I wouldn't even know where to begin... so check them out for yourself at haydensheart.org or on facebook at Hayden's Heart. Read Hayden's story and fall in love with the baby that continues to change the world at Prayer Page for Baby Hayden also on facebook.

If you would like to make a difference you can make a one time donation Hayden's Heart or keep up with them and participate in any of their fabulous events. In an effort to spread more CHD awareness they are on a mission to get featured on #theellenshow so if you feel so inclined send her an email and help them get there.

Maternity ward horror stories

For every "I had the most wonderful birthing experience" you will hear a "I had the delivery from hell" story. I found that when I was pregnant everyone wanted share with me their maternity ward horror story. Tales of endless labor. Fractured hips. Broken tail bones. Torn assholes. Hemorrhoids the size of grape fruits. Failed epidurals. Bitchy nurses. Careless doctors. Insensitive husbands. Blinding contractions. Shitting on the table. Cone head babies. Broken Vaginas.

With a baby rapidly growing inside my belly I was starting to panic. I like my asshole in tact. My unstretched lady parts. Which honestly I hadn't seen in months but still I wanted them to remain in the state in which I had known them my whole life. Shit on the table... I'd die. Convinced that these mama's must be exaggerating I had talked myself into the fact that I would be one of the lucky ones with amazing orgasmic birth story. Not so much... I was added to the list of wounded warriors. I now had my own maternity ward horror stories.

However I have enough common sense to not scare the crap out of every mama to be that I come across. I become the crypt keeper when asked about my experience. I don't spew out the gory details. One because it is not necessary. Two because I know that no matter what happens her story will not be my story and there is no reason for anyone to worry about the possibilities.

Shortly before my due date with my second baby I was given the option of having an elective c section because of a medical condition. Contrary to popular opinion I jumped on the chance to not push another human out of my vagina. 40 hours of Pitocin induced labor. Stiches up my ass. And nearly bleeding to death made my decision an easier one.

After choosing to have a c section I learned how frowned upon that is amongst members of the mommyhood. Emergency c sections... well those are okay because you have no choice. But ELECTING to bring a child into the world this way is just unacceptable. Friends, close ones at that aired their opinion on my decision in hopes of getting me to change my mind. And although having a c section is not ideal... lets face it... there is no good way to get a 9.5 pound human out of your body!

Most women that have had a c section will tell you how horrible it was. Worst experience of their life. And then there are the women like me that have had both vaginal deliver and a c section and I know with  fair amount of certainty the c section was far from the worst experience of my life. In fact it was not bad at all. Considering that it is major surgery that you are wide awake for it is not nearly as bad you would think. Or as it looks on you tube which strongly recommend you do not watch the night before.

Yes it is uncomfortable.   But so is labor. And labor has no clear end in sight. You could be in labor 2 hours or 2 days. Both of my c sections were over with in an hour. And my beautiful oversized babies were here. There heads not misshapen.

Everyone always talks about the shocking pain at the incision sight. And yes the day after the pain is shocking. Not as shocking as natural delivery. And after the first day every day after gets better and better. Plus I totally prefer stitches across my stomach than up my ass because you know what the ones that I had after Aidan were not so pleasant either.

Another common complaint is that during the c section you feel lots of pressure. Some say tugging/ pushing. For sure an odd feeling that you could live with out ever enduring. Quite honestly compared to a human tearing its way out of your body I'll take the intestinal massage any day of the week.

I hear women that have only had a c section say often that they feel they have been robbed of the birthing experience... to that I can only say the whole "natural birth" experience is OVER RATED! And it the end it does not matter what means brought your baby here safely.

I personally take offense when I hear moms putting down moms that have chosen to go with a c section. It is such a personal decision made with only health and safety at the forefront. I did not have a c section for convenience. But I was able to keep an open mind and make the best decision for me and my babies.

Whether you are a well-vetted member of the mommyhood with tons of experience under your belt  (which I think I qualify for with three kids) or a new comer try to remember the tie that binds is our shared loved for our little ones not our ideas about how they should be brought into the world. The next time you run into an expectant mom... even if she asks spare her the agonizing details of your maternity horror story there will be plenty of time to commiserate and relate after she has her own to tell.

Sweet September

This time last year I was pacing the floors of this house. Breathing through contractions that had started 2 days prior. Wondering when I should leave for the hospital. Cursing Dr. Douchebag for sending me home in the first place. Rubbing my belly that was stretched to the max. Saying silent prayers and talking to the baby I affectionately called September. Asking him to hold off. Stay put. Just for one more day. Anxious as I was to meet him I was twice as anxious about how he would make his way into this world. I knew that my doctor was not available until Monday. And according to him despite the fact that I was bleeding and contracting at 6:30 am on Friday morning if I just went home and stayed in bed and didn't lift a finger I would be fine until he had time to deliver my baby on Monday.

Just go home and stay in bed. Don't lift a finger. Yeah. No problem. Said a mother of two small boys... NEVER. I begged him not to send me home. Terrified that I would go into full blown labor on my own and not have enough time to get to the hospital or worse have a repeat or some similar situation as I had 7 years before with Aidan. A birth experience that brought me closer to death than I care to remember. The delivery that almost sent me home with out a baby. Surely the doctor that had been obnoxiously thorough the last 9 months... sending me for every test under the sun. Monitoring me so closely that I was sure baby September was going to come out glowing after all the sonograms I had.... was not going to let that happen. My high risk, sought after, top notch doctor, that I adored must have a plan that was more involved than telling me to keep my legs crossed and pray until his weekend off was over.

Nope. As it turns out that was the plan. So when I showed up at the hospital Sunday morning literally about to have September it should have been no surprise that no one knew about my blood disorder. No one knew how it should be treated. And my wonderful doctor... oh he was too busy at his sons soccer game to answer the phone. At 8 1/2 centimeters....  a point where the baby could practically stick his arm out and wave I was left on a gurney. Told to "hang tight" while they figured out what needed to be done. The hematologist on call... the one familiar with all blood disorders readily admitted she had no idea how to treat mine. Asked me if I remembered the name and dosage of the medicine I was given when I had my last c section because they would just go with that. Me! She asked me! The girl having contractions so strong that I could not see straight. I didn't even know my fucking name never mind the dosage of the medicine that was given three years ago. And why would I be a reliable source any way. I am not a doctor. Or a nurse. I am a mom of two... about to be three. Currently trying to keep a baby from sliding out my vagina. Are you really asking me?!

At more than 9 centimeters it was all figured out and I was heading in for my c section. Which I was really pissed about. To go through that many hours of labor with no medication or epidural and get a c section literally minutes before the baby could have been born naturally is just senseless torture if you ask me. Nonetheless that is how it happened. More importantly September arrived safely. And good God was he perfect?! And big! Just like at I had felt with his brothers... it was instalove.

Completely consumed in this new love I almost forgot that September needed an official name. Everyone thought we were just with holding what we had picked. Some even thought that we had actually named the baby September. Seark is a hard one to follow. I mean after a name like Seark you can't just go with Joe for the next one. Besides we can't leave Seark out there all alone in the strange name club. But honestly you can't out do Seark with out getting a little crazy. And I had already given Seark, Rylan for a middle name which was my next favorite boy name. So we were stumped. Until they informed us that we could not leave the hospital with out filling out the birth certificate. At that point we decided we could totally use Rylan again. So we did.

The sight, smell, feel of a newborn baby is intoxicating. To hold this tiny being so fresh from heaven there is no denying a higher being and the occurrence of modern day miracles. I spent the next few days just gazing at flawless little September. Breathing him in. Touching his warm, soft skin. Running my fingers through is baby fine hair. Wishing to freeze this time knowing how fast goes. I studied the sweet perfection of his face. Aware that it will change in the blink of an eye. And it did. Everyday. He changed and although subtle... noticeable. To me. Every night I would rock him to sleep and before I put him down for the night I'd trace the lines of his face so gently trying to etch them in memory. Afraid the he was changing so fast I would forget what he looked like on any particular night. Because that is what happens. I miss the days of being a blissfully ignorant first time mom that didn't know just how fast this time passes you by. Or that no matter how much you try not to you will forget.

And so a week turned into a month. And a month into two, then three and so on. My little newbie was growing at warp speed. Smiling and cooing at his brothers. A little personality was just beginning to form. The dark hair that he had a birth was long gone and little blonde fuzz was beginning to grow in its place. His dark grey eyes were beginning to turn blue. With each passing day my love grew. And not just for Rylan but for all my boys and the love that they have for each other.

Months four, five, and six were spent snuggling on the couch as snow fell out side. We celebrated Aidan's birthday, Christmas, small and big milestones. Smiles and coos were turning into belly laughs and babbling. And before I knew it my tiny babe was off to explore all on his own. He mastered crawling and then there was no stopping him. His baby soft knees started to feel like sandpaper as he made his way around on all fours. Until the day he discovered that he could pull himself up and cruise the furniture. Curious hands found their way into everything. And though his ambition out weighs his ability to balance his unsteady legs he never stop trying.

With seven months came a first tooth and a cranky teething baby. By the beginning of month eight three more teeth had made their way through those lumpy red gums for  a total of four. Then six and now eight. A baby with 8 teeth makes nursing feel like a danger.   All these new teeth also opened the door to a whole new tasty world of food we had previously not explored. With every new flavor Ry found a funny new face to express the message his taste buds were sending.

As pages of the calendar turned I started to feel the clock tick. September was fast approaching. Our days in the sun were numbered and so was the time until my Ry James turned one. My heart was starting to ache. This bitter sweet joy of yet another year that had filled me with so much more love than I knew I could hold had my heart so full the only thing it could do was grow. But growing pains are still pain. And a heart ache even if caused by joy still hurts. September is here and in more ways than one. So I baked a cake and stuck a candle in the middle. Sung happy birthday with sweet September on my lap and held back the tears of a mom not ready for next chapter just yet. But ready or not your growing as babies tend to do.

So my Ry I won't hold you back or slow you down. I will watch you grow and let you go while I cheer you on. I will hold my breath while you take your first unsteady steps and hold your hand whenever you need it. Your first words have yet to be said but I can not wait to hear them. I will fight for you and be in your corner no matter what while I fight back these tears because I know my heart isn't breaking... just growing. You are only one, you have only just begun... the best is yet to come! Happy Birthday my sweet boy!

I like having sex with you...

I am a big card person. I love cards and give them for all occasions. Except Christmas. The holiday that I love to design and order personalized cards for but never execute the actual addressing, stamping, and more importantly mailing of. So anyway the other day when someone did something nice for me I decided to go buy a little gift and a nice thank you card.

What sort of gift do you give to say thank you? Personally I like to be thanked with alcohol. Vodka or wine preferably. But choice of liquor is so individual what do you pick for someone that you don't know that well?

(via text messaging)
Hey what do you like to drink?
Water.
No I mean alcohol.
Unless you would like the gift of Poland Spring.
Oh LOL!
(followed by no response to the actual question)
Okay last chance... or don't complain when I stop by with a fancy gift bag containing only a bottle purified water.

A day later I was headed out to buy a bottle of water and a thank you card. I decided to go with Fiji water since it looks the most prestigious among the bottled waters. My kids gravitated towards the toys which happened to be right next to the cards. Which was a nice distraction for them and gave me a few minutes to actually read the cards before I picked one. Birthday. Graduation. Communion. Baptism. Wedding. Congratulations. Humor. Sympathy. Thinking of you. Ah ha.... Thank you. Thank you cards in general suck. They are so generic and boring. There among a sea of lame "your the best" cards was one fluorescent orange card sticking out like a sore thumb. I lifted it half was out of the holder to read "I like having sex with you". Which made me giggle. Really?! I like having sex with you? Intrigued no less I had to open it and read the rest.

My quiet giggle broke out into a full hysterical laugh by the end of this "greeting card". Which of course drew the attention of my children. They came scurrying over to see what was so funny. They go from sweet smiling minions to angry mob when they aren't getting their way... and they weren't because I wouldn't let them read the card. I did however buy it. I just couldn't pass up this literary gem. I contemplated giving it to my husband with a completely straight face just see his reaction.
Which then got me to thinking have I been married so long that a card like this seems nothing more than hilarious and ridiculous?! Are people actually exchanging cards like these?! And my last thought... I need to submit a resume to American Greeting. Maybe I have missed my calling as greeting card writer.

I had to pass this humor on. At night when my mom stopped over to go for a walk I came out with the I like having sex with you card in hand and told her she had to read it before went. After she had a good laugh I threw it in my mailbox thinking I would bring it back in after our walk. Only I forgot about it when I got home. The next day on my way back from picking Aidan up from school I ran into our mail man. With a very peculiar smile he said "there is something in your mail box not addressed to anyone". I just responded ok thanks and kept walking. The card never even crossing my mind. Until I opened the mail box and there it was... right on top. Which leads me to believe that our mail man now thinks one of the following... I am really good in bed... Like greeting card worthy sex. My husband is really good in bed. Or one of us is having an affair and just got outed by a poorly written greeting card. Whatever the case I will leave it a mystery for him as the truth could not be more dull!

So if you ever feel like you want to say what's on your mind with a card there is truly one for every occasion. I can already see some type of poorly acted hallmark commercial with a tiny accessory perhaps a condom to perfectly pair with your "I like having sex you card" when the trend finally catches on. Unless it already has a I am out of the loop.

p.s. I included a $50 gift card with the bottle of Fiji water and the sex card... I mean thank you card.

Humpy Humpy Dumpy and other great falls...

When I was about the age of my oldest son I fell off my bike. The details are fuzzy at best as it was 20+ years ago that it happened. I don't remember the moment of impact. Which is probably a good thing. I don't remember much after it either. I know the accident itself resulted in a fractured jaw and dental trauma. I do clearly remember the few seconds immediately before my face met the pavement. Those few seconds where time seems to slow down long enough for you to come to the realization... oh shit... this is gonna be bad. And it was. But as bad as it was for me I am now convinced of two things. One: smashing your face in some capacity is a childhood right of passage. Two: My accident was worse for my mother.

As the first full week of the new school year came to an end and the fall weather began to arrive I could not think of a better way to spend our home work free Friday than at my boys' favorite park... playing with their friends. So I got the kids in the car and headed out to the "barn park". A brand new park in town. The hazmat worthy cat urine filled sandbox that the children once loved to play in was finally removed and replaced with a new gazebo. The rusted fence that didn't quite close has been torn down and in it's place is a new wrought iron gate with a handle that locks into place so no parents have to chase small escapee's. The mulch loaded with cigarette butts that Seark used to love to snack on has been cleared away. The town even went the extra mile. Instead of just paving the park they installed that rubbery floor that feels sort of bouncy under your feet... you know the kind that will for sure lessen the impact of any fall. Well not quite any fall. Smack in the middle of this completely safe... I am sure "up to code" park is a giant statue of a stupid fucking pig! Oh my... she said stupid fucking pig?! Why such animosity towards such a cute statue of a pig with its piglet?! Because that pig was the only thing standing in the way of my clumsy child when he went running through the new gate... on to the impact absorbing bouncy floor.... when he tripped and fell face first with no time to brace himself.

From across the park I watched it happen. Aidan face plant right into the foot of that stupid fucking pig. I heard it. And as the words "oh god I hope that noise wasn't his face" came out of my mouth Aidan shot up off the floor as if there were springs in his feet. Letting out an awful cry. The cry any mom that has heard it before knows means it is serious. I held my breath and ran to him. Aidan spun around and... ALL. I. SAW. WAS. BLOOD. And lots of it. So much I had no idea where it was coming from and the only word in my head was.... FUCK! fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!!!!!! Oh it was bad. Bad. Aidan was screaming "oh God I'm dying... I'm gonna die!" And all I could think was fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!!! Luckily that's not what I said. I somehow got my shit together enough to get my game face on.... the face only a mom can pull off. The one completely disconnected from every thought in your head. Disconnected from anything else going on around you. The face that you look at your bleeding child with... the calm... cool.... collected face that tells them "your gonna be okay". And that is what I said over and over until Aidan really heard it.

Your gonna be okay.
Your gonna be okay.
Your gonna be okay.
Your
gonna
be
okay.
You hear me?
Your gonna be okay.

As much as I was saying those words with serious conviction I had no idea whether or not they were true but as long as Aidan believed me and they calmed him down... that was all that mattered. And they did.

By the time we arrived at the hospital Aidan was no longer freaking out. The blood had stopped gushing. He was still bleeding and clearly bruised and swollen but I was certain now that he would indeed be okay that I felt better about reassuring him of such. After being evaluated we found out that although he was okay underneath all that swelling was a broken nose and behind his absurdly fat lip was a chipped tooth and two loose ones.  When asked what happened Seark chimed in with "my brudda falled like humpy humpy dumpy... right Aidan? into da pig at da barn park".

Thank God unlike humpy humpy dumpy Aidan could be put back together again.

Don't be a bitch I am doing my best

Today was another day of just me and the kids. I am used to it just being us. There is only one place I really avoid taking the kids to. And that is any sort of formal dining establishment. By formal dining establishment I mean anything where they expect you to stay in your seat for the duration of the meal. I don't even really like to go out to eat when my husband can come with us. It is a project. Not one that I love. Rylan is in the "throw it on the floor" phase of his life. "It" being anything within reach of his tiny little wanting to smash it hands. Dining out with a 10 month old is somewhat like yoga... for beginners. I spend a lot of time sqautting, bending, and contorting into positions I am not sure that I can get out of just so we aren't the table that everyone stares at and whispers "look at her letting her baby trash the place". Not to mention the murderous glances from every bus boy. So for everyone's safety I keep dining out to a minimum... even when I have an extra pair of adult hands to help out.

If it were only Rylan that was completely uncooperative it wouldn't even be so bad. But there is also Seark. While he is not tossing breakable plates and smashing cheerios on the floor he still manages to make eating at a restaurant damn near impossible. Seark is a lavatory connoisseur. Meaning he likes to check out every bathroom. In every place we go to. Several times a night. More often if they have a good hand dryer. Aside from the false tinkle alarm he sets off regularly he has the urge  to play musical chairs. He always wants to start off next to me. Then he moves by Aidan which means my husband has to switch seats with him and plates. Once everyone is settled he decides he like the other seat better and wants to move back. He also can't sit on his butt. No he wants to be half way under the table. Or kneeling on the chair just so you have a heart attack every 30 seconds anticipating the fall you envision every time he leans backwards. 

I spend the night lunging for Seark and squatting to clean up Rylan's mess and I don't even get to eat a  hot meal because by the time the food comes Rylan can't sit anymore with out screeching like a wild cat that is under attack. 

Today Aidan begged to go to a restaurant that he loves down the shore. It is the last time we will be down there for this year so I said yes even though I knew it was a bad idea. We were seated immediately which is fantastic. Our waitress took 20 minutes to get to our table to take our order... whats the opposite of fantastic? Hell... 20 minutes when you are the only adult with three restless children is hell. Rylan is tossing things off the table left and right. Seark has to pee... or maybe he doesn't but who would risk a puddle on the floor?! Aidan is STARVING! I am doing my best to not have a panick attack and run out of there when this cute little waitress walks past and rolls her eyes as she asks if I could move Seark's chair in. 

We get our food and everyone is occupied for the moment. Seark drops is iced tea. Thank god for kid cups. It had a lid and didn't make a mess. I get up to pick up Seark's drink. Hand it to him. Aaaaand Rylan is covered in baby food! COVERED! And so is the floor. I forgot to move the jar when I got up. And here comes the cute little snotty waitress. She says "I'll get extra napkins so you can clean up that mess" and walks away. She comes back visibly annoyed and tosses the napkins on the table despite that I have my hand out to take them from her. 6 years ago when Aidan was Rylan's age I probably would have apologized for the mess and cleaned it as fast as I could. Most likely got teary eyed too. Not now. Not as I sit there with three kids doing my best! 

Do you have children? 

Nope.

Do you want them?

Eventually. (clearly annoyed and I don't even blame her I can't stand when people ask me things like that) 

Good. I hope some day you have them. And you take them out to eat. Just you and your kids. And they behave like animals. And it embarrasses you because you can't stop them. I hope you have a waitress with a rotten attitude and she makes you feel like shit with her eye rolling and huffing and puffing over things like baby food on the floor... and I hope you think of me. Don't be a bitch I'm doing my best! 

Let's just say me and the cute snotty little waitress didn't hug it out. 

Children can be terrible restaurant patrons that is no secret but it doesn't mean that you should never get to enjoy a meal that someone else is cooking. I have a come a long way since my first baby. I won't put things off because of the way they might behave. Instead I take them everywhere and do my best with damage control and try to remember that you can't please everyone. I did however please someone. There was a very happy 7 year old that had crab salad and cod for lunch... and that was worth it eye rolls and all. 

I am that asshole...

Saturday morning. My alarm clock known as Crylan gets me out of bed promptly at 5am. I have finally come to terms with this ungodly hour that we must rise and shine and take full advantage of it on the weekend. Since my husband is home instead of making coffee and daydreaming about my bed like I do the rest of the week on Saturday and Sunday mornings I go for a long walk/jog with my pint size companion. 

We complete our 7 miles. Come home in time to make everyone breakfast before they are up. And usually have enough time to eat before Rylan is ready for his 3 hour nap which I find completely selfish of him. Don't get me wrong I like the down time and to be able to shower in peace and all that. But anything beyond an hour is just rubbing in the fact that we do this sleep stuff on his terms. 

Anyway I take my shower. Get dressed. And decide today is the perfect day for the zoo. More specifically the Bronx Zoo. I straighten the house quick. Get the other kids dressed. Pack my diaper bag. Nag my husband to hurry up. And before we leave the house glance at the calendar to make sure I am not forgetting anything we were supposed to do today. Nope nothing on the calendar for Saturday. But there is a pool party for Seark's little friend on Sunday. I think to myself good thing it is tomorrow since today is relatively cool and overcast all day. 

We hop in the car and go. There is little to no traffic and before I know it we are parking at the zoo in a spot that is in Bumblefuck... literally we had to walk like a mile to the zoo entrance apparently I wasn't the only that thought it was a great zoo day. Just then I get a text saying "hey mama you guys coming?" Immediately my mind starts to race... coming? Coming to what? Hey Jay did I mention that I had anything to do today? OH. MY. GOD. I FORGOT BEN'S PARTY!!! Oh wait what is today? It is Saturday right? I have that on the calendar for Sunday... Shit I must have put it on the wrong day!

We are already in the Bronx. By the time we got back the party would be more than half over. I text my friend (Ben's mother) and apologize for the mix up. I genuinely feel terrible! I hate when people respond yes and don't show up! But it was an honest mistake... Just like the time Aidan's class mate/ friend had a party on Sunday and I remembered on Monday when we saw his mother at school. Or like today when I headed out to the beach. Called my mother on the way their to let her know I was going but would be home in time to go shopping with her because we were coming back early because I had something to do at 4:00... I just couldn't remember what?! I did finally remember what that what was at 9:00 tonight... My childhood freind's grandmother's wake!!! Totally forgot... and lost track of time so I didn't go on that shopping trip either! Seriously what an asshole I am?! Write this shit down for god sake! 

Back to birthday party mishap. So we missed the party on Saturday. Sunday morning I look at the calendar on the fridge and think what a shame the party isn't today. It is so beautiful out! Still bummed that I screwed it up. I carry on with the day. Go to my mom's the pool for a bit. Take the kids out to eat. When I get a phone call asking where we were today? Oh no why? What did I miss? 

Turns out I wrote pool party on the calendar for Sunday because we were invited to a pool party on Sunday... but not for Ben... this one was for Luke! Which I forgot about altogether and just assumed I mixed up the days for Ben's party. Long story short... we missed both parties!! 2 events in 2 days that I completely flaked on is a new record for me and one that I am not proud of! I am that asshole that I hate in other people! And I don't want to be! No one wants to be an asshole... clearly... but I just can't seem to get it together! 

Its that moment when you realize that maybe everyone else isn't an asshole. Maybe they genuinely forgot about your party or play date just because they forgot and not because you weren't important enough to remember. Which doesn't really make the forgetting any better... so from now on I vow to use that little reminder thing on my phone. To be diligent about writing things down. Most of all to stop being that asshole I hate in other people. 

Sandpaper in your vagina?!

This morning like every other morning me and the kids came downstairs. Out of habit when I go to bed I put on the Disney channel. This way if one of the kids turns on the TV before me I know it is on a safe channel. Last night I went out for coffee with a friend. Got home late. The kids were already in bed. My husband was sound asleep too. I turned the TV on and watched a few minutes of Seth Meyers before I heard Rylan crying. I figured I would feed him get him settled and come back downstairs. I didn't. I nodded off in the rocking chair with Rylan and by the time I put him in the crib I just got into bed.

So we all head downstairs and into the living room. The TV is already on. I look around for the remote quick but don't see it. I get side tracked with letting the dogs out, changing Rylan's diaper and being bombarded with questions about what we are having for breakfast.

Mom this show is still on I want to watch something else. 

Okay Aidan just give me a minute.

Mom it's an adult show. You better change it! 

What's on?

Hoda something and some annoying lady.
(The Today Show with Kathie Lee and Hoda Kotb)

Well I will just be one more minute. That show isn't bad anyway.
(I mean really it is 9 am on a Tuesday morning on regular TV how bad could it be?)


MOM THEY ARE TALKING ABOUT S E X!!!!!

I grab Rylan and run in the living room to change the channel. Aidan and Seark are very intently watching the Today Show. Gahhhhhh I can not find the remote. I am tossing pillows off the couch. On my hands and knees looking under the coffe table. Yes! There it is! I had not really heard much of what they said up until this point. I ask Aidan what channel he wants to watch. Start to type in 1 - 2 - when I hear the guest on the Today Show say "And the then you go to have sex and it feels like there is SANDPAPER IN YOUR VAGINA!"

SANDPAPER IN YOUR VAGINA!!!! 
SANDPAPER IN YOU  BAGINA!!!
Cackling like two wild hyenas...

Mom why did she say that? Why would you put sand paper IN your vagina?! Wait what does she mean by IN YOUR VAGINA? Do you have a hole in it... like a butt hole?! 

A bagina butt hole....
(Seark chimes in) 

The boys are so hysterical they can barely catch their breath. Of course I am laughing too... but somewhat nervously as I have no idea how I am going to redirect this one with out answering any questions. I change the channel and walk into the kitchen while they are lost in laughter. Praying they just forget the whole thing and move on.

I finish getting everyone breakfast. We eat. Play some games. They are lining up little men. When Seark bursts into laughter and a in sing songy type of way says "Saaaaaaand Paaaaaaaper in your Vaaaaaagiiiiiiiina" Which brings Aidan back to the original questions.

The best I could do was... well you know that is where babies come out of. So that is the hole that she is talking about. But no one puts sand paper in it. She was just being silly.

"Silly by saying that sex feels like sandpaper in your vagina?! I don't get it. What is sex anyway?" 

Aidan I am going to be very honest with you... YOU ARE TOO YOUNG FOR THIS CONVERSATION AND THERE ARE NO MORE QUESTIONS ABOUT IT TODAY... OKAY?

Okay... Can I ask dad when he gets home? 

I have no idea when these kind of talks are supposed to take place. I have always been a firm believer that if they are old enough to ask a thoughtful question then they are old enough for an honest answer.... until today.... when my sweet little 7 year old asked me "what's sex anyway?"
It is definitely not time for that. But thanks Hoda and Kathie Lee for putting this mom on the spot and the reminder... we only watch Disney Jr. in this house!





I drop

Moms judging Moms

Look. At. Her. Does she own a mirror? She looks like she just rolled out bed. Threw that kid in the car and fled the house. Are those sweat pants or pajama pants? And what's with the hair?Ithink there is a cheerio in there.  I mean she only has one kid?! Surely she has the time to.... shhh shhh shhh here she comes. Hi Love! How are you? So glad you could join us today. You look so cute and comfy. (insert air kisses)

Ummmm we are at the park why is she wearing a dress and heals? Who wears heals to the park to chase around a 3 year old?! I mean REALLY?! She's married. She has three kids. Who the hell is she trying to impress coming to the park like she is headed to a beauty pageant?! She must stick her kids in front of the TV while she does her hair and make up. I don't have time for that and I don't want my kids rotting their brain on Sponge Bob just so I can look cute. Hey gorgeous! You always look fabulous! 

Oh. My. God. I stopped by _________'s house the other day with out calling and it was like 3:00 and she answered the door in her underwear and a t-shirt. The kids still had their pajamas on... the ones that were dressed that is. I think she may have even had on her make up from yesterday. The house was a disaster. I mean  D I S A S T E R!!! Shit everywhere. Toys. Clothes. Clean and dirty. Papers. Crayons. The dogs were eating cereal that was stuck to the baby. I. WAS. IN. SHOCK. I had no idea she was like that. She always looks so put together.

Have you been to _________'s house? We went there for a play date and let me just tell you her house is immaculate. Like museum type shit. Not a spec of dust anywhere. Kids can't sit on the furniture. We had to take our shoes off. I was afraid to breathe. I even passed on COFFEE! I was afraid I would spill it and she would freak out! Seriously my house might be messy but my kids are happy. I would hate to live with her. Those poor kids!

Did you see she is still breastfeeding that baby. He almost 1. Time to stop if you ask me.
Formula? Oh no! I would never give my babies formula. I don't understand why anyone does?!
We only eat organic. It's unfortunate people are so uneducated and feed their kids processed crap.
Crunchy moms... haha... more like hippies. Welcome to the 21st century. They sell baby food already made.
Attachment parenting? Don't make me laugh. Do I look like a kangaroo?! I don't need to wear my baby I already carried him for nine months. Besides I don't want to spoil him.
It makes me sick when I see moms not holding their baby enough. You can't spoil a baby. Stop being selfish your baby needs you.
You cloth diaper? That's just weird. And gross. It's like shitting your pants and wearing them again. No thanks.
You don't cloth diaper... don't you care about the environment?! There are chemicals in disposable diapers. You should really read up on that.
I can't believe people vaccinate their babies! It's crazy to put all those toxins into their little bodies. Besides those diseases aren't even around anymore. And haven't they heard they cause autism?!
I can't stand people that don't vaccinate! Diseases are making a come back because they are irresponsible.
Is little ________ Rolling over? Sitting up? Walking? Talking? Waving? Mine is because he is a fucking genius sorry yours isn't I am sure he will catch up sooner or later.
Cry it out!!! NEVER!!! I NEVER LET MY BABY CRY. EVER! I don't care if we co sleep until he is 25. It is just cruel to leave them crying in their crib where babies normally sleep wondering if their mother has abandoned them just so you can have a good night sleep with out worrying you will smother your child. Sure he rolls off the bed but better fall on his head than cry himself to sleep.
You co-sleep? Sexless marriages are great anyway. Enjoy getting kicked in the face for the next five years.

Why do we do it? Why do we judge each other? Why can't moms just agree that we are all doing our best. Whatever that means. My best is not your best. And vice versa. My way no matter how great it works for me will not work the same for you. We are different people raising different children. Moms should stick together. Be in it... this mom thing together. There should be no unspoken park dress codes. No judgement about the way I feed my baby. What happens in my bedroom is no body's business. Just because my house was a wreck when you stopped in doesn't mean that is how I live. It means it is the day before the cleaning lady comes and I am giving myself a break. And yes sometimes it takes me until 3:00 to get it together. My old T shirt and underwear are comfortable and I wasn't expecting anyone... shoot me. I may have looked like I rolled out of bed last week when I saw you but I didn't. I actually didn't even get to get in bed at all because my teething infant was up all night and wanted to be held. ALL. NIGHT. I thought about getting dressed before I left the house but by the time I got everyone else ready it was getting late and I just didn't have the energy or the time left. And yes when I do feel like it I put on make up and do my hair. Throw on my favorite sundress and matching Gucci heels and head out to the park. Not because I want to impress you or anyone else. Because I am a girl and I like to feel like one from time to time. I vaccinate my kids because I feel the benefit out weighs the risk but I will not chase your kid around with a needle because you chose not to. I also won't blame you when I hear there is a measles out break... though I might make you aware that it is happening. I co slept with my first and learned that wasn't really for us. That cute cuddly baby became and giant kid that hogged the bed and wouldn't settle down unless someone was sleeping next to him. So yes I let my last cry it out. And so far he doesn't show any signs of permanent damage. During the day I hold him too much I even baby wear and he hasn't spoiled like rotten milk but maybe he isn't walking yet because he hasn't had the need to as I carry him everywhere. While we are on it... let's talk about milestone's. STOP COMPARING YOUR LITTLE ONE TO MINE. They shouldn't be competing and you shouldn't be keeping score! In a year from now when they are both doing the same thing it won't make one shit of a difference who said mama first. So stop. Stop comparing. Stop judging. Stop thinking your way is better. Because it isn't. I f I am making mistakes that aren't hurting anyone... let me. Don't assume my kids are neglected because I look nice and my house is clean and I won't assume you are dirty because your house was a mess and your kid eats rocks.

Let's agree on this one thing... life would be easier in the mommyhood if we stop assuming we know it all. Don't smile to my face and talk behind my back. Being a bitch is better than being a phony bitch. If you see me struggling and think you know a better way... I will gladly take any advice you offer as long as you don't shove it down my throat. I know you are doing your best even if you aren't doing it my way. And I don't want you to. What I do want is a friend. Someone that understands and knows just how hard this job is. Someone who will over look the cheerios on the floor. Laugh at the little things only another mom could understand. Tell me tomorrow will be better when I am so tired I could cry. Guess if the foreign object in the poopie diaper was swallowed or just fell in there when  I text you a picture. Smile and nod even if you don't agree because that's what mom friends are for. If I want someone to second guess my every decision I will consult with my husband

How old are you?!

I find myself constantly reminding Aidan of his age. The older he gets the more often I do it. Sometimes I even jump ahead to the next age as his birthday approaches. For example both boys will be fighting over a toy. I tell them to knock it off. I make Seark give the toy back to Aidan. The one he had no interest in until Aidan picked it up. Seark will give it back. Not with out some serious protest. But he will relinquish the toy. No sooner Aidan will take the opportunity to tease Seark with the toy. Rub it in his face that he won this one. That mom took his side. Hold it over it head... literally because he towers over Seark. That's when I hear the words coming out of my mouth... "Really Aidan how old are you... almost 8 years old!!! Too old to be dangling a toy in front of your 3 year old brothers face intentionally to make him cry". 

Today I was in the kitchen getting the kids breakfast. I love that they ask for the things they want like I am a waitress that will just keep making laps around their table bringing them their latest request on command. For example... 

Mom can I have cheerios. 

Sure. Would you like milk in them? Fruit? 

Milk. 

I bring Aidan the cheerios. Sit down with my hot coffee. 

Mom can I have strawberries in my cereal. 

Sure. Banana's too?

No. 

Bring Aidan his cheerios with milk and strawberries. Sit back down with my luke warm coffee. Two bites later he says would mind getting me a banana too? 

Mom can I have a bagel?

Searkie I was just in the kitchen I asked you what you wanted and you said nothing. 

I want a bagel. I want a bagel now. Can you get me a bagel now? Mom can you get it. A bagel. Now. 

Get Seark his bagel with cream cheese. Ask what he wants to drink. Although he says nothing I bring him a sippy with green tea because that is what he asks for everyday with breakfast. Sit down with my room temperature coffee. 

Mom can I have a drink? 

Yup here is your green tea. 

I don't want that. Can I have water? 

Yup. Aidan you want something to drink too? 

No. I drank the milk from my cereal. 

(ewwww but ok)

Get Seark his water and sit down with my now very cold coffee. 

You know what mom I will take a drink. 

Oh for god sake Aidan then you have to get it yourself I have been in and out of the kitchen 10 times already and I haven't even gotten to take a sip of coffee. You are 7 years old and definitely tall enough to reach a glass and get your own water. At the very least old enough to know that you want a drink or fruit or milk or whatever when I ask you... not after I sit down because you already said no. 

Forget it if Aidan has a tantrum. I have no patience for tantrums or whining to begin with. I can't stand it when Seark does either of those things. I give him a little grace because he is still so little. But Aidan... I hate to admit it but I have zero tolerance when it comes to him behaving that way. He's just too old to be acting like a baby?! As I go to remind him of his age for the 100th time I realize in that "I'm an awful mommy moment" that maybe it is me that needs to be reminded of his age instead. 

I write about rocking Rylan and not wanting these nights to be nearing an end. I write about taking away Seark's binky and baba and how hard it is for me because I don't really want him to be a big boy yet. And then there is Aidan who is subject to my own hypocritical double standard. As much as I get annoyed by these little things I am truthfully more annoyed with myself for not having more patience. Aidan is still my baby. My first little love. The beautiful babe that changed my life. The world as I knew it.  The boy that made me a mommy. Why am I rushing him? It is no secret that Aidan is not the easiest child. I often wonder has he just used up all my patience? Of course the answer is no. Unfortunately being a mom is a work in progress. I realize that a lot of Aidan's behaviors even the ones I don't like stem from me setting the tone for what is acceptable. 

 Independent is not something that I let him be. I have cuddled and coddled and practically smothered the independence right out of him. I have held his hand, made his plate, let him have his way, and catered to his every whim since the day he arrived on the planet. In trying to do everything right I made the mistake of not letting him do anything for himself.  Which makes me question when I am telling to him to act his age... what does that mean... to him? And to me? What is typical 7 year old behavior? I have no clue as Aidan is my only 7 year old. I do know that things need to change. For the better. For the benefit of both of us. It's safe to say the constant reminder of the date on the calendar and how that coincides with his birth is not the way. So where do we go from here... I'd be lying if I said I knew. But I have a feeling we will be taking baby steps to get there. 

Brotherly Love

You stupid boy!
Mom!!! Seark called me a stupid boy!

Seark stop it! Stop calling Aidan names. No one is stupid.

You stupid boy!
Mommmmmmm! Do you hear him he is still calling me a stupid boy!

Why?! Why is he calling you a stupid boy?! What are you doing to him???? 

Nothing! 

Translation to nothing = taking and hiding pieces to the puzzle that Seark is already struggling to put together. Why? Why would Aidan do such a thing? Pure entertainment. The fact is that after spending the last month and a half home from school for the summer him and Seark have spent entirely too much time together. So much so they have found that they have one thing in common... they love to annoy each other.

Aidan if you don't leave Seark alone you are going to go in time out... understand? Rolling your eyes is not an acceptable answer. If you understand the words coming out of my mouth nod your head yes.... thank you. 

Seark if you call Aidan a stupid boy again you will also go in time out... got it? Good. 

I am not even in the living room for 10 seconds when I hear the final "You stupid boy" which is really more like "choooo stuuuuupid boyeeeeeeee!!!!!"

That's it you are BOTH in time out!!! 

Time out. Something that occurs in this house several times a day. On a good day. I hate time out. It would honestly be easier to let them torment each other for hours on end than it is to get them to sit quietly in time out. Yes I fully expect them to sit quietly. The time out count down won't even start until they are quiet. Plus 5 minutes is added for every fresh talking back comment that is made towards me. So it is likely that a five minute time out will turn into a 50 minute time out. Yeah I know you are thinking 50 minutes?! Yes we have already had a 90 minute time out. Clearly it can take Aidan awhile to remember that we are playing by my rules and that one of them is no talking back.

So I pull up two chairs and tell them to both sit. They do. And instantly it starts. He is looking at me. He is touching me. He is annoying me. Tell him to stop looking at me. You stupid boy. Stop saying that. Move over. Don't breathe like that. Mom he is rolling his eyes. He is kicking my chair, I can still feel him looking at me?! At this point I am ready to blindfold the two of them while sitting back to back so there is no way anyone can look at anyone! I may have even threatened to do such a thing.

Why can't they just get along?! Siblings should be built in friends! And they are going to have to be because mommy hates play dates. Aidan always wants to have a friend over. I always tell him... he's already here. To which he answers... Seark?! Really?! I don't want to play with him!!! Granted there is a bit of an age difference and I know that is a huge factor but I wish they would realize sooner than later that even though they may both be totally annoying in the end family is all you got.

A lesson I am admittedly still learning. For years I have had my ups and downs with my brother. More downs than I would like but such is life. The older I get I do realize... friends... they come and go. Some last longer than others. Some I even love like family... but they aren't. And there is a difference. My brother on the other hand no matter what will always be, well, my brother. My first friend. My best friend. He will always be annoying. I will always annoy him. We won't always see eye to eye and sometimes it will feel like we never will. But somehow when it comes to the important things we will be there for each other. That's all that matters. If only I could make my boys see that sooner... like now. Maybe just maybe they would be a little kinder to one another. Until then I see lots of time outs in our future... possibly while blindfolded back to back.

You have how many kids?!

Last week I was in the mall with the boys. Sitting on a bench. Aidan on my right reading the comic book that he just bought . Seark on the left playing with his new mini mates. Ry in the stroller decorating the floor with cheerios. Everyone was quiet and content as we waited for my husband to meet us there. Plenty of people walked passed without giving us a second look. Some stopped and fussed over the baby or complimented their behavior. I got the usual oh my three boys! Nothing out of the norm until an older man late 60's I would guess walked right up to me and said "what are you attempting to repopulate the world or do you just really like having babies?" No hint of humor. No smile. No kind eyes. Straight sarcasm! Normally I am very quick on my feet. Witty. Always know what to say. Not today. It took me a minute to even process what he had said because it was so unexpected! I stared at this grumpy old man with my mouth in the fly catching position unable to utter even a single word. Not that he waited. I assume the question was rhetorical as he walked away before I could come up with any type of response.

Repopulate the world? I wasn't aware that such a thing needed to occur. Like having babies?! What the fuck?! Like seriously... WHAT THE FUCK?!

People can be so strange. Rude. Inconsiderate. Prying. I am not sure what makes anyone else think that they are entitled to say what ever comes to their head. Like "are they all yours?!" or "Bless your heart with ALL THOSE BABIES" and the latest "Are you trying to repopulate the world?"

One: Yes they are ALL mine. I am not the baby sitter. The Aunt. Cousin. Sister. Friend. No this is not a play date. Class trip. Whatever. No I am not trying to make my own baseball team. I don't even watch it but I do know you need at least nine players and I don't have anywhere near that many kids! And if I did it would still be none of your business.

Two: I don't know if you are seeing double or maybe confused but I only have 3 children. Which is really not that many. Nor is it uncommon. Three well behaved children that are being loved. Raised. Well cared and paid for by me and my husband. Yes we are aware they are expensive and that college is too.

Three: Yup they are all boys. Yes I know I am going to have my hands full. For god sake skip the sad face. I am not disappointed about it and you shouldn't be either... mostly because will never see you again.

Four: No they weren't "accidents". Yes I have heard of birth control. I surely know where babies come from and how mine all came to be. Finally all the above is none of your business.

Five: If you see a mom out with multiple children unless you feel compelled to tell her how beautiful her children are or that she is doing a wonderful job with them... MOVE ON! Having kids and more than one is decision that is made with consideration by a family not something that happens by accident. We know what we signed up for and are happy about it even if you find that hard to believe.

 So to the grumpy old man if I had more that a second to gather my thoughts I would not have bothered to explain any of this to you because you aren't worth my time but I would have totally called you an asshole... with a smile on my baby lovin' face!

Spread awareness

You know the feeling when you get devastating news? That air sucked out of your lungs. Hard to breathe. Pain in your chest. Sick to your stomach feeling? For a moment the world literally stops spinning and you want it to. The sadness. The despair you feel is so heavy it might just suffocate you because you just don't have the means to lift it. Everything else in your life might be perfect. But in this grief stricken moment you are blinded by pain. A feeling so intense it is all consuming. At some point most of us have felt it... if we are lucky for only a moment.

Imagine living every single day of your life stuck in that moment with only brief sparks happiness that come far and few between. Beautiful brilliant bursts of light that color the darkness but fade as fast as fireworks on the fourth of July. Can anyone really live like that? Sadly more people than you would think actually do. According to ADAA (American Depression and Anxiety Association) depression is the leading cause of disability for ages ranging from 15-44. Currently there are 14.8 million adults in the US living with major depression. Death by suicide occurs once every 16.2 minutes says the CDC (center for disease control) leaving an estimated 4.5 million suicide survivors to carry on with life affected by such tragedy.

Depression is as real as cancer. It is a disease of the mind that although often treatable is incurable. Suicide is not a choice. Just like a heart patient may die from a heart attack even after taking every preventive measure... a person suffering from severe depression my take their own life after seeking professional help and taking every precaution advised. Yet when someone dies from a heart attack we don't call them selfish because they ate that bacon cheeseburger even though they knew the risks. Depression is so largely misunderstood.

Robin Williams among countless others was not selfish. Was NOT a coward. He was genius plagued so deeply by this disease that even the joy he so freely gave to others could not touch the sadness he carried with in. He put up one hell of fight. Battling demons most can't imagine hidden by that smile on his face. Living a hell that most can't understand all while making the world laugh. I don't know that he could have been more selfless. More brave. It is a shame that we live a world that is so quick to judge. Unable and unwilling to feel compassion for what they don't understand.

I will remember Robin Williams for the comic genius that he was. A personality larger than life. The gift of laughter that he gave so many. I will honor him by spreading awareness. In hopes for better understanding and little more compassion towards those that also suffer.

For more information and ways to help visit SAVE.org
If you are in crisis there is help 1-800-273-8255

A loss no one can see

I think about you... more than anyone knows. More than anyone cares to. I think about you. I think about you when I look at Rylan. He is the rainbow that gave me hope. After the storm that was you. I think about what went wrong and why. I wonder why you were only given to me for too brief a time. I think about you even though you aren't here with us. I think about you because you were. With me anyway.

I think about how excited I was to meet you. All the things I had dreamed for you. The little pink outfit I bought for you.  How happy we were to tell everyone about you. Of course at the time we didn't know that we were about to lose you.

Miscarriage. A word I had heard. Knew what it meant. Or so I thought. Miscarriage. I word that didn't apply to me. Other people maybe. I was aware that even friends of mine had been through them. But not me. Never me. Until you...

I watched your little heart flutter on the screen and felt mine do the same. A beating heart. A baby with a beating heart. I silently thanked God and breathed a sigh of relief. But something was wrong. I didn't know it yet. But your heart would only beat for another week. Every night I laid my hands on my belly and prayed. I prayed for you and your tiny beating heart. I prayed for me and my breaking heart. Maybe that is why I got to see your amazing heart beat one last time before it did no more.

Your heart stopped and it felt like the world did too. On Christmas morning with a house full of kids and presents and wrapping paper and family. I sat frozen. With you in my hands. Unsure of where my next breath was coming from. Just me. You. And my broken heart. Tears flooded my eyes and streamed down my face. As I sat. So Still. Studying you. What would become arms and legs. Tiny hands and feet. The smallest face I had ever seen. For a moment I imagined you in my arms. Not in the palm of my hand. I could feel myself instinctively wanting to rock you.

I think of you so, so often. You were not simply a miscarriage. I hate that word with everything in me. A baby from the moment of conception is a miracle. A promise. A love. A life.  You were my third baby. I lost you. I don't know why. And even though you were gone before I got to know you. I loved you. I love you. And letting you go... was not possible. I laid you to the rest in the only place I saw fit. With your Grandma Mary. I left a piece of my heart their with you. The piece that belongs to you. I keep you in that empty space. You are a part of us. This family. The part of me that no one else can see. And because of that I will always think about you...

Time to fly



Do you know how birds get their little ones to fly? By letting them fall. Maybe not so much letting. They make the fall the mandatory. Mama bird will refuse to come to the nest to feed her fledglings. Instead she will stand near by with the food the babies so desperately want. Keeping it just out of reach. Enticing them to step out of their comfort zone. Out of the safety and security of the nest. She forces them to step out. Fall. And get back up. Until they spread their wings and fly.

What a way to learn. Just as birds instinctively learn to fly with out being taught babies will learn to walk. Run. And Eventually fly. I like most moms am quite the opposite of mama bird. When Aidan went for his 6 month well visit the pediatrician asked me if was rolling over. Rolling over? No. Why? Should he be? So then he asked well if you put a toy out of his reach will he attempt to get it? What? No. Why would I put a toy out of his reach? Oh so he will be motivated to roll over and get it. Got it. No. Haven't done that.

I want my babies to stay safe with in the nest. I hate those first few weeks when they begin to walk. Their legs so unsteady and unsure. They fall. Often. Get bumps and bruises. Every time I see Ry wobble my instinct is to grab him. Catch him before his little booty hits the floor. As often as I can I resist the urge to never let him falter. By now I have learned that it is only through falling that they learn how to get up.

So when Aidan asked to do Tree Top Adventure an obstacle course 10 feet in the air. 15 unique challenges. All requiring balance. Coordination. Agility. Focus. Normally words that are not in Aidan's vocabulary. Aidan who is clumsy. Mostly uncoordinated and distracted was drawn to this thrilling feat and begging to do it. Every thing in me wanted to tell him no. No there is no way I am going to let you do this. No because it is dangerous. No. Because once you get up there you can not just change your mind and get down. No. I don't even think you are capable for god sake you can't take five steps on even ground with out falling. Just no. Despite every no running through my mind... I said yes. I think because deep down I knew all the no's were more about my fears than his.

So I signed him up. He got all hooked up. They went over all of the instructions and safety regulations. I repeated everything to Aidan as if I was a translator making sure he understood every word. I quizzed him to be sure he had indeed paid attention and absorbed the information he needed to make his way through this course. He shot me several "mom you are embarrassing me glares" but I didn't care. Before I knew it Aidan was up. It was his turn. I silently prayed ... Oh dear God guide him through this. Please don't let him fall or freak out. Dear God guide me through this. I might need it more than him."

I stood on the ground staring up at Aidan. About to start the first challenge. His hands shaking. Cheeks red. My hands shaking. Face flushed. When he turned to me and said "I can't do it. I am afraid". I wanted to run over to one of the guides and tell them he can't do it. Please just get him down. Instead I said "You got this. Calm down. Focus. Put one foot in front of the other. Take your time. You totally got this".  I was terrified I was wrong. And then he put one foot in front of the other and started to go. He got it. He made it through the first challenge, then the second, third, and so on. Slow. Steady. Focused. He made it through the course. On his own. I have never been more relieved as I watched him come down the last step. I could see the pride in his eyes. He was so proud of himself. Because he did it. Even though he was afraid... he did it. He was so proud of himself and so was I.

I couldn't help but think maybe all this time I had been holding him back because I was afraid to let him fall. All this time he hadn't learn to fly because I was holding his wings when I had only intended to hold his hand. I let him go. Instinctively he spread his wings. It was bittersweet to watch him soar.