Mom's the word

Michelle and I had a nice Mother's Day celebrating with the family at my sister's house. It was a weird day for weather though. We'd been having such warm summery weather that the sudden blast of wintery cold wind was a shock. Even more surprising was the hailstorm that came with it. Maybe Mother Nature was angry that she didn't get a Mother's Day card.

It was my first Mother's Day as a Mom.  I didn't get a card from Michelle of course. She did say "Mama" though which I am happy about. Unfortunately "Dada" has been resurrected as well. She had stopped saying it for a while and now has started again. She's also been adding other sounds and words to her repertoire. The cutest thing she does is growling like a tiger whenever she sees a picture of a tiger. And she's started saying "Awww" when I go "awww" at her doing something cute. She's already learning how to manipulate me. If she grabs off my glasses or smacks me in the face and I say "No! That's not nice! Be nice to Mama!" she nuzzles into me or touches my face gently to make up for it and then I say "Awww. That's a nice girl." When she looks up at me and says "Mama" I could forgive her for just about anything.

Being a single Mom is more than a full-time job. 24-7 with no help. I didn't get much of a break on Mother's Day either. Michelle is starting to make strange. She cries when my Dad tries to take her. She was even reluctant to let my sister hold her. It's really tough on me because I'm used to giving my arms a bit of a rest when we visit. Usually my Mom, Dad, sister and brother take turns holding her. Now she fusses and reaches for me when anyone else takes her. She is still pretty good for my Mom. She better not make strange with my Mom or we'll really be in trouble! I'm relying on Mom to watch Michelle when I return to work. I still don't know how on Earth I'm going to survive leaving her.




















It's still hard for me to accept how fast time is going by. I can't believe she's going to be a year old in a couple of months. I've had several strangers tell me how "tall" she is when we're out and they ask how old she is. When I say "Nine months" they're in shock. She is wearing 12 month old clothes. When I put her in a dress and she stands up she looks like a little girl to me. I can picture her twirling around on her toes. She already tries to dance and loves standing on her toes. My Mom noticed that Michelle thinks she can walk. She will be holding onto the ottoman and suddenly go to turn and step away as though she could just walk across the room but then she only makes it a step before she stumbles. She knows someone (usually me!) will always be there to catch her. A couple of times she has managed to just stand, holding onto nothing. "Wow!" I think, "she'll be walking any minute" but then she'll notice "Oh wait, I'm not holding anything!" and her legs buckle under her.

More and more I am seeing her personality emerge -- her moodiness, mischievousness, sweetness, sense of humour. Her favourite game now is chasing Mama -- I crawl around on all fours and she crawls after me. She laughs her head off. I love her laugh. I remember one of my friends saying that babies become a lot more fun from 9-12 months. They laugh more. They can do more. As newborns they don't do a whole lot. The older they get the more their character begins to shine through. I love her excitement when she clenches her fists and shakes. I love her curiosity (though it also drives me crazy when she grabs at absolutely EVERYTHING.) I am so grateful and so proud to be her Mom.



I did get a card on Mother's Day, from my Mom. She said how proud she is of me and what a good Mom I am to Michelle. It meant a lot to me. Though I do make mistakes along the way, I am doing my best. My Mom may not always agree with my methods (things were very different in her day) but she sees how much I love Michelle, how devoted I am to her, how I would do anything for her. Since becoming a Mom myself I appreciate my own Mom more than ever. I realize now that being a mother is the most difficult (and the most amazing) job in the world.

Kisses and Hugs xoxoxo

Motherhood is a thankless job much of the time. It's the hardest job in the world. With the longest hours and the lowest pay. But it is also the most rewarding labour of love you could ever have.

Michelle couldn't possibly understand the sacrifices I've made for her -- physically, emotionally, financially and in every conceivable way -- turning my life as a carefree single girl on its head. She doesn't realize how much it takes out of me caring for her 24-7 without help, how much it hurts to lift her (all 17+ pounds of her) and carry her several times a day on a wrist that aches so badly sometimes I almost throw up (it's the wrist I had carpal tunnel in while pregnant and it is sure getting a workout now. There isn't much I can do. Keeping pressure off of it isn't an option. I've tried carrying her in my right arm instead and I can't seem to do it. It doesn't feel natural and then I can't do things with my left hand anyway so I'm kind of stuck.) How hard it is to get anything done when she doesn't give me a second's peace. How many things I've had to give up. How stressful it is trying to make ends meet and reorganize my life to do what's best for her. She can't say "Thank you Mama" for all that I do. She still hasn't said "Mama" though she did say "Nana" a few times. I know she's just making sounds at this point. She knows I'm her Mama though. She recognizes several words and that is definitely one. I just can't wait for her to say "Mama" and "I love you."

Even when she's old enough to talk she wouldn't necessarily understand or appreciate all that I've done and will do for her. Perhaps not until she's an adult and even then, until she has kids herself, she probably couldn't fully understand. I know my mother always told me "You won't understand until you're a mother yourself." I never expected to be a Mom but now that I am I see that she was right and I love and appreciate my Mom more than ever. Mothers do so much, give so much of themselves every day, asking for nothing in return. Even before you are born, carrying you and caring for you while pregnant. Then when you're a baby, doing everything for you, giving you all of her time and energy and love and throughout your life, being there for you no matter what. Motherhood is also a job that never ends. No matter how old your child gets, she's still your little girl.

I remember the song "No charge" by Tammy Wynette -- a mother's response to her son when he was asking to be paid for the chores that he did. I get teary hearing it or reading it because I'm a sentimental fool. The first time I heard the song many years ago I got a tear in my eye. I never could have imagined that one day I'd be a mother myself. The song is even more touching to me now.

"For the nine months I carried you growing inside me, no charge.
For the nights I sat up with you, doctored you, prayed for you, no charge.
For the time and the tears that you've cost through the years, no charge.
And when you add it all up the full cost of my love is no charge..."


Sometimes when I'm having a really bad day, on no sleep and Michelle is fussy and everything goes wrong, I wonder how I'll cope. Then when she smiles and laughs my stress melts away and I feel so grateful. Recently she has started doing the sweetest thing ever. Suddenly she'll lean in and put her mouth on my cheek. She doesn't understand about puckering up yet but her intentions are good. Michelle gives me a kiss. Her own open-mouthed awkward baby version of a kiss. I love it. My heart melts and I feel like the luckiest person on earth each time she does it. I kiss her back and say "What a nice girl! I love you, sweet girl!" Sometimes she'll do it on command when I say "Give Mama kisses?" (which is how my sister was able to capture these photos of her kissing me) but other times she just spontaneously kisses me and hugs me, often several times a day. She'll clasp my face gently and put her mouth on my cheek. And it makes everything I go through (even my worst days) worthwhile. Sure she can be a shrieking monster sometimes but then she can be my sweet little angel. And in those moments it does feel like she's saying "Thank you Mama" and "I love you."

Mind you her first kiss was on Grandma's cheek, not Mom's and yes I was understandably hurt! She only sees my Mom now and then and sees me all the time. It's like I was being taken for granted. I got over it. I know that she loves her Grandma and Grandpa and gets excited when we visit them. Now that Michelle is kissing me all the time it makes me so happy. Of course I have always been affectionate with her. I kiss her hundreds of times a day. Everytime I'm holding her (which is often!) I can't resist kissing her. I noticed when I used to take her to the public playtime that no one else seemed to kiss their babies at all. Perhaps I'm strange, just overly affectionate. I can't help it. I'm happy to see that Michelle is affectionate too. She's also very intense (as I am and her father was) which can be good and bad. She gets so excited by the smallest things (even just drinking water from her sippy cup by herself) that she'll scream and squeal at the top of her lungs in delight or clench her fists and shake. She also gets upset beyond belief and has a stage 3 meltdown when she's overtired and cranky, doesn't get her way instantly, etc. My Mom says I'm probably making it worse by spoiling her and catering to her every whim, never letting her cry for more than a second. I can't help it. I would feel too guilty letting her cry. It's also probably the most stressful sound on the planet. When my Mom is on speakerphone and Michelle starts screaming (because she's on the change table for instance, which she HATES), Mom usually ends the call because she can't take the noise.

There was no escape for Mom though when she was in the car with Michelle screaming on the way to the Princess Margaret Dream Home the other day! It's been a tradition with my sister, my Mom and I for the last several years to go and tour the PMHF Lottery Dream Home. The homes are always massive and beautifully decorated. It's fascinating to walk through an over 8,000 square foot home, to see how the other half lives. The experience is a lot different now with the baby though. For one we have to take separate cars because of the child seats. I followed my sister there. A long drive with the baby isn't always a picnic. Sometimes she sleeps and is content but when she has reached her limit, she certainly lets you know. The sound of an infant shrieking is even more stressful in the confines of a vehicle when you're trying to concentrate on the road on a six lane highway. My Mom sat in the backseat with Michelle to entertain her, give her a drink etc while we drove but she could only do so much. Michelle doesn't like being strapped in her carseat for very long and when she's had enough, she screams.

We made it there in one piece anyway and Michelle was good as gold while we were in the house. She seemed fascinated by it all. I put her in the kangaroo carrying pouch my Mom had given me to save my arms. It's murder on my back and shoulders but at least my wrists get a break. Strangers commented on how cute she was and how she "had the best seat in the house!" It feels kind of weird carrying her in front of me like that with my hands free. It's like she's an alien leaping out of my stomach. The house was crowded and I had to make sure people didn't bump into her.


Michelle has really been a handful lately. She's back to barely sleeping at all so it's very hard to get things done and I can't leave her for a second while she's awake because she's pulling up on everything and standing precariously and I'm constantly afraid she's going to fall and bang her head. My Mom says she'll never learn to do it on her own if I'm constantly catching her but I can't let her fall. I'm trying to teach her to fall on her butt so it doesn't hurt. I know that even when she can stand and sit back down and walk by herself the worries won't end -- then new worries will begin. She's already trying to get into EVERYTHING. She grabs at everything in sight. She's so curious she just has to be into everything. I let her explore things if I figure they can't hurt her. She had a great time tearing up some of the flyers and my junk mail (I don't let her touch newsprint and get her hands black but anything that has magazine quality pages is fair game.) She loves to rip and crinkle paper. I have to keep the Kleenex box out of reach or she pulls all the tissues out.

I never expected to be a Mom but now that I am one I know it was meant to be. I couldn't have imagined how much I could love someone, especially someone who can be so difficult and demanding at times. Sure she drives me crazy sometimes but she's worth it. I've given up sleep, money, my figure, most of my hobbies, life as I knew it. What I've gained is something more precious than anything -- a love beyond my wildest dreams. I feel so blessed. I am so grateful. I love her so much sometimes it feels like my heart may burst -- like the Grinch at the end of the animated Dr. Seuss classic "The Grinch that Stole Christmas" when his heart grows to three times its size and breaks the meter and he suddenly has the strength of 10 men and lifts the sleigh over his head. When Michelle hugs and kisses me, I know that she is the sweetest, most precious, most important thing in my life and I will do anything for her.

My masterpiece

Back in the days before I knew I was going to have a child, I referred to the things I created -- my poems, songs and paintings -- as my "babies." It used to be very hard for me to part with my artwork. It was kind of silly. As an artist, you hope to sell some of your pieces -- that's the whole point to painting in the first place. Over the years I only sold a few paintings and each time it was difficult to let them go. I really did consider them my "babies." I had created them and lived with them for so long that they felt like members of my family. When I sold one of my favourites -- "Wind" -- I actually cried.

Singing on stage, my art in the background

There was a local bar that used to have an open mike for songwriters and they also exhibited work by local artists, a different artist every month. I was thrilled when they let me show my work there. Being a featured performer during the same month was a dream come true. It was kind of surreal being able to sing my songs and show my artwork in public at the same time. It felt like I was sharing the moment with my "girls" on the wall. I received a lot of compliments on my work but I never expected to actually sell a painting there. It was a bar, after all, not somewhere people would be looking to buy artwork.

at Manhattans -- "Wind" painting in centre.

I got a call from a man whose wife had fallen in love with one of my portraits, "Wind." He told me that his wife had given up a baby for adoption when she was younger. It was an "open adoption" and she was still in contact with the adoptive family. They sent her pictures of her daughter through the years. Her daughter was now a teenager and apparently looked exactly like the girl in my painting. I was so touched by the story that I couldn't say no. I couldn't imagine ever giving up a child for adoption. I had a hard enough time parting with a painting! I cried when I said goodbye to her. At the same time it was very rewarding to know that she would be hanging in someone's home and that she would be loved. It was also exciting to actually sell my artwork. I felt like a real artist now.

I painted another version of "Wind" because I missed her. The new version was quite different but I was still happy with it. Any time I sold a piece I tried to make another copy for myself but they were never quite the same.

I exhibited my artwork in a couple of other galleries and shows. It was a win-win situation. If I didn't sell any pieces, I was happy that I got to bring them back home where they belonged. If I did sell something then I felt gratified that someone liked my work enough to own it. I did some custom portraits for people as well. For a while I was painting almost every day. I seemed to go through phases where I craved writing, phases where music was everything and other phases where I lived to paint. As long as I was being creative, I was happy.

Art on the Street show

Art in the Window show

After a trip to the Dominican Republic, I wanted to create a tropical ocean view in my bedroom so I painted several canvases with palm trees and ocean vistas. My bedroom had been decorated in subdued earth tones but I added tropical splashes of colour -- a new quilt and pillows in bright shades of turquoise and fuschia. If I couldn't live on an island, I would bring the island to me. I even created a beach in my backyard, with sand and a tropical garden -- everything but the ocean. The ocean theme began to take over my entire house. There were shells, seahorses, mermaids, palm trees everywhere.

Painting was a way to escape, I would lose myself in it. I filled my entire house with my artwork. I remember when I first moved into my house it didn't feel like home until I put my paintings up. It was like having members of my family all around me. Many people have told me that I put a little of myself into each painting.

Then for a long while I didn't paint at all. A boyfriend had given me three large canvases as a gift hoping to inspire me to pick up the brush again but they sat there blank for months.

When I was decorating the nursery for the baby I wanted to do an ocean theme and was inspired to finally paint the three large square canvases with mermaids and babies. It felt good to paint again. I had missed it. Michelle was fascinated by the painting that hung over the change table and stared at it everytime she lay there.


Last year in February, after Michelle's father left me, I was in financial trouble and looking for ways to make money. (He had left owing me money, prince that he was, and had run up my bills before he left. Also some unexpected expenses came up so it was just a brutal month all around!) I sold many items on Kijiji trying to make ends meet and one of the customers who came to the door admired my artwork in the hallway. She wound up buying a few of my paintings. I sold them for a fraction of what I normally would have because I needed the money desperately to buy a new washer (my washing machine had just died on top of everything else.) Though they were a few of my favourites it didn't have the same sting as selling "Wind" did. My priorities were different now. There was a real baby on the way and she meant everything to me. I'd do whatever I had to for her. I do still plan to do new versions of them one of these days. I didn't get around to it while I was pregnant and it's close to impossible to paint these days. Maybe when Michelle is older she'll be interested in art and we can paint side by side.

When I was talking to a friend about not painting anymore she said that now my baby is my masterpiece, my greatest creation of all. She's right.

Recently I was inspired to write a song for Michelle called "You're the best." It begins --
"Of all the things I've made and done, my life's greatest feats --
You're my favourite one, you're my masterpiece.
Of all the things I've seen -- beautiful and new,
nothing can compare, my sweet love, to you."

Here's a video of it on Youtube. "You're the best" -- music and lyrics by Ann Marie Pincivero:

Before I ever knew that I'd be a Mom someday I remember hearing about mothers "giving up their dreams" when they had children -- leaving careers, artistic pursuits, etc to devote themselves to their children. Now that I'm a mother myself I understand that it's not as though you "give up" your dreams, it's just that your dreams change and priorities shift once you have a child. Suddenly your baby is everything. Anything that seemed important before pales in significance. That's not to say that I will never paint again. I will. I still write songs. I still need to express myself creatively. It's just that many of the things I used to do have to wait a while now. Michelle takes up 99% of my time.

Of all my creations, she is the most unique, the most precious. I am so grateful for her. She is my magnum opus, my masterpiece.

In sickness and in health

I don't think there can be anything more stressful in life than your child getting sick (or hurt). I guess that it was bound to happen eventually. I just didn't think it would be so soon. She's only 3 and a half months old.

Michelle got her first cough and cold. She caught it from my nephew Reggie who had been sick since Halloween. It was a cold and rainy night for trick or treating this year. (So many people have told me you don't catch a cold from being in the cold but you DO! I ALWAYS caught colds in the winter. You're out in the cold and damp and your nose starts to run and you wipe it and germs get in and you've got yourself a cold.) We didn't think a baby Michelle's age could get sick and even if we thought there was a danger it wasn't as though we could avoid exposure. It was my Mom's big 70th birthday party and everyone had to be there. We also had a smaller celebration on my Mom's "real" birthday. Reggie didn't have any direct contact with Michelle but of course he was at the same table, was coughing, touching things. My sister and my Mom were alternately holding Reggie and then holding Michelle. She seemed fine the next day. She sneezed a few times but it didn't seem that unusual. Later that night however, the nightmare began. It was after midnight and I heard Michelle coughing which was strange. I hadn't heard her cough before. When I went to check on her she was wheezing. Her nose was running and all stuffed up. She woke up crying and it was difficult to console her. Poor little thing. I know how much I hate having a cold. Everyone feels like a baby when they have a cold. And it's far worse for a baby when she has no idea what's going on, why it's suddenly hard to breathe and her nose is sore and runny.

She was understandably upset and wouldn't go back to sleep. I walked with her, rocking her and singing to her for hours trying to console her. When I tried to breastfed her she would take a sip, turn away and cry, take a sip and turn away and cry. She couldn't breathe through her nose which made suckling almost impossible. She had to choose between breathing and eating! I kept trying to clear out her nose with a Kleenex. I'll have to get one of those nasal aspirators to clear it out. I didn't want to drag her out to the store to look for one while she was sick. It's tough for babies who don't know how to blow their noses to clear out the congestion. And you can't give them anything (not that over the counter cold meds do much anyway. I've never found one that helped. The only one I ever really liked was NyQuil because it's yummy and knocks you out at night so you get some sleep at least.) With a child there's not too much you can do for a cold but wait it out.

I made a makeshift humidifier by putting boiling water in a bowl and throwing a towel over us to breathe it in. I thought it might help to clear out her sinuses. She wasn't too keen on the experience. I'll have to look for a humidifier the next time I'm shopping as well. Oh and some Kleenex with lotion. A great invention. So much softer on the nose.

Thankfully the congestion seemed to subside enough for her to breathe a little so that she could feed. And then she fed voraciously. Every hour instead of every two hours. I guess it's like they say -- "Starve a fever. Stuff a cold." She was probably also dehydrated from losing so much fluid. At one feeding she drained both breasts and still seemed thirsty. I tried giving her some water in a bottle. She made a face like "Are you kidding me?" and didn't drink more than a drop. The doctor had told me at the last check-up that I could start giving Michelle a little water if I wanted. I only tried it once and she wouldn't drink it so I didn't bother trying again until she got sick. I know you're supposed to drink lots of fluids.

At one point when I tried to feed Michelle she went ballistic. It didn't seem like milk was coming out. She was screaming as though the world was ending. I was worried I may have actually run out of milk. She'd been feeding so often maybe my breasts couldn't keep up with the demand. To be sure,  I went and got the pump to see if anything came out. The milk was still flowing so that wasn't the problem. Michelle was just frustrated. Luckily she got over it and started to feed again shortly thereafter.

It was a horrendous day. She was fussier than ever and I felt so bad for her. She wouldn't nap for more than a couple of minutes all day. I was so exhausted and drained I started to cry. I wondered how I was going to survive the next 40 years or so worrying about her. I can't even deal with the simplest things. I fell apart when I accidentally cut her thumb once while clipping her nails and now I was crying over the common cold. How would I find the strength to deal with all the challenges and heartbreaks children bring? I get so stressed out when something goes wrong, something beyond my control. I always hated being sick myself but having my child sick is a billion times worse. I wanted to be able to fix it, to cure it, to make her better instantly, to take it on myself to spare her. But of course it wasn't something that I could change. It was a case of the sniffles and would have to run its course, as hellish as that course might be, for Michelle and for me.

I consumed plenty of orange juice and chicken noodle soup thinking that some of it would get to her through my breast milk. I had heard that breast milk was full of antibodies. I guess I had hoped it would make her immune to everything but babies are so vulnerable. Everything is new to them so if exposed to a virus, it's very hard to fight off.

I figured that plenty of fluids and a lot of rest were her best bet for a quick recovery so I didn't mind feeding her every hour or so, day and night when she demanded it and I tried to stay with her almost constantly so that she'd sleep (she would wake up and cry the instant I tried to get up. She finally settled down late at night the next day and I had to rush to put the garbage out while I had the chance. Meanwhile I was in my pjs, hadn't bothered to get dressed all day, hadn't showered or done my face. I looked like a zombie. But at least there was no one outside at that hour anyway.)

The next day Michelle was a little better but I had caught the cold. Figures. My throat was sore and my nose was running. I wish someone would come up with a cure for the common cold. All 200 strains of it. I've had so many colds in my life I would have thought I've had almost all of them by now.

It's hard. Before becoming a Mom I only really had to worry about myself. Now I worry about her and if something happens to her it's far worse than if it happened to me. I love her more than my own life. It terrifies me. I can be a bit of a control freak. Part of me just wants to keep Michelle in a protective bubble and keep her away from the world so she's not exposed to anything. People have warned me that when children start school, they are constantly getting sick because they are exposed to so many germs from other children. Children get sick all the time because their immune systems aren't fully developed yet. It's scary. But I can't protect her from life. I can't keep her away from other children. I try to be careful. I wash my hands a hundred times a day. I try to clean everything. But then you go out and you can't control what everyone else is doing. She is going to touch things and people and be contaminated by germs. It's inevitable. You can't control the world. You can't guarantee a clean environment (you could drive yourself crazy and become OCD, wearing gloves everywhere or sporting a Hazmat suit and running around sticking biohazard stickers on everything.) Everyone could be contagious. Everything could be a hazard. At some point you have to relax, lighten up, let life happen. As a child I didn't worry too much. I was a bit of a tomboy for a while. I spent the whole day outside, playing in the dirt, catching frogs and snakes. And I survived. My brother accidentally ate a piece of bread full of beetles when he was a toddler ("Wait a minute. We don't have raisin bread!" my mother screamed as she realized what he was eating in the backyard) and he survived. Some people argue that being exposed to some germs helps to toughen children up and make them healthier later in life. If you do live in a completely sterile environment with no exposure to anything then you never develop antibodies or immunity. So maybe Michelle getting sick so early has an advantage. It may toughen her up. It may give her body a chance to learn how to heal itself and recover from an illness.

In the scheme of things, this really is no big deal. It was just a bit of a rude awakening, seeing my child sick for the first time. It's not pleasant. I want the best for her. I can't bear to see her suffer even in the smallest of ways. But maybe it's a learning experience for us both. I get to be a Mom and comfort her. I'm making sure we're both getting plenty of rest and fluids. We stayed in our pjs all day. Michelle seems to be dealing pretty well with the cold now. She was smiling and back to her old self again. She had her tummy time, played on her gym and in her jumperoo. I cheered up a little too when I realized that she's OK. It is just a cold after all.

At some point I'm going to have to learn to let go. To relax. It's not the end of the world (even though sometimes it feels like it.) This too shall pass. Life isn't perfect. She's going to get sick occasionally. Sh%$ happens. She'll be exposed to all kinds of things out in the world and from other people. I can do my best to protect her and watch out for her (and hopefully not let her eat any beetles!) but I can't drive myself crazy worrying or try to keep her sheltered. I can't keep her in a bubble, as much as I may want to.

Maybe this is another rite of passage for me as a Mom. Somehow when we're sick we need Mom most of all. When we catch a cold, many of us wish we had Mom there to nurture us, tuck us in, bring us orange juice and chicken noodle soup. To hug us and love us and tell us we're going to be OK. Now I get to be the nurturing Mom helping my little one to feel better. Michelle is learning at a very early age that I am there for her, in sickness and in health, that I will always be there to comfort her and help her through anything. And maybe I'm learning to lighten up a little. As a new parent, I'm nervous about anything going wrong. It's all uncharted territory. But once you have dealt with something, you gain confidence. You realize that it's going to be OK. Each small catastrophe that we survive (whether it be a cut finger or a runny nose) makes me a little stronger.

Happy 70th Birthday!

I can't believe my Mom is 70. She looks 20 years younger. Of course she does a lot to protect her skin. She's been slathering on moisturizer for decades and she avoids the sun. Not only does she baste herself in sunblock but she stays in the shade and even in the car will hold a newspaper up to block out the sun if there isn't a blind on the window. I tried explaining to her that when you're wearing SPF 60, the sun is not getting through but she doesn't want to take any chances. I do have to hand it to her. People never guess her age. Maybe it runs in the family though because my sister looks younger than she is and I was still getting asked for I.D. a year ago. (Even at the casino where you only have to be 18!)

I offered to host Mom's birthday party last weekend. It's a challenge having the whole gang over in my little house. With five kids running amok, it can be chaotic at times. We survived it. Some of the balloons did not. My nephew James dragged them over toward the ceiling light and popped a couple. Then he pushed them against the Christmas tree lights and popped some more. I wouldn't have thought those tiny tree lights had enough heat to break a balloon. It kind of makes me nervous now to have the lights on at all. If they can burn a balloon why not the ornaments?


It was a challenge preparing for the party. Transporting three large balloon bouquets and a baby home in the middle of the night was a surreal experience. I was starving at the time and tempted to pick up McDonalds but thought better of it. I would have looked like a circus act! Besides I was anxious to get home. Michelle was being good but was staring at the balloons on either side of her as though they were aliens from outer space. It must seem strange to her when these unusual objects suddenly invade her world. One night she went to sleep and woke up the next day to find a white Christmas tree in her living room. Then the kitchen and living room are filled with balloons. She seemed to take it in stride. The cat wasn't too impressed though. Cats don't like change. Aside from the balloons I had also moved a bunch of chairs into the kitchen to make more seating room for the party.

I had hosted Mom's birthday party last year, of course that was before I was pregnant, or rather, before I knew I was pregnant. Ironically, as I've mentioned in previous blogs, it was on the evening of my Mom's birthday party that Mike (my baby's father) was kidding around and stuck a silver balloon under my shirt like a pregnant belly. Six days later I would find out I was pregnant. You would think I'd be afraid of balloons now! Actually they do scare me a little. I'm always afraid they'll pop.

I had Michelle dressed in a little black and pink velvet, lace and satin dress. I love dressing her up. She doesn't seem to care what I put on her though she tries to chew everything. The lace on the dress was soaked from her chewing on it. I got her some teething toys but she has no interest in them. She only wants to chew the things that you'd rather she didn't. Like her own hand, my hand or shoulder, and everything else in sight! She's drooling a lot too which I've heard from other moms is common at 3-4 months. So I guess she is teething. My Mom wanted me to put a bib on Michelle at all times but it seems silly to dress her up and then stick a big ugly bib on top of it. Mom then suggested putting the bib underneath her top so her chest wouldn't get wet with all the drool but then it looks too big and bulgy and doesn't seem like it would be comfortable for her either. They should invent a little mock undershirt (like they have mock turtlenecks for adults) to go under baby clothes. Something that isn't too bulky but that would protect them from the drool. I guess it could be worse. One Mom that I spoke to recently has a baby who throws up constantly. Every time she feeds she spits up at least half of it. At least Michelle doesn't spit up that often. It's only happened a few times and even then it's just a tiny bit. (Knock on wood!)

Michelle had been talking up a storm in babyspeak and my sister suggested I take a video of her "talking." I'd taken so many photos of her but hadn't done much video. Of course as soon as I turned the video camera on her, she clammed up. "Show Mommy how you can talk...Say something sweetie..." And not a peep. Just staring at me wide-eyed every time I tried. I did manage to get a few tiny clips of her making little sounds and put it together in a video. It will be interesting to look back on it someday and remember these days before she could talk. I can't wait until she says her first words.

 

 

Michelle has started trying to communicate in ways other than crying (which is a welcome change!) Now when she's hungry she says "Uh uh uh." Always like that. A "u" sound in a group of three. I mimick her which she finds funny and smiles a big smile. Everytime she does that I feed her right away and she seems happy which is awesome. One less thing to cry about! Now if she could make different sounds for when she needs to be changed, when she's tired or for anything else she wants or needs, we'd be all set! She does seem eager to communicate so I hope she's talking soon. I always try to imitate the sounds she makes so that she feels like we're having a conversation. It always makes her smile.

 

Mom is a proud Grandma to seven grandchildren now. She's thrilled with Michelle, unexpected lucky number 7. She didn't think there would be any more grandchildren since my siblings with children didn't plan to have any more and neither my brother Chris nor I ever planned to have any. My Mom was concerned that I would regret it someday if I never had children, that I would feel I had missed out. I don't know if I would have. How can you miss something you never had? I couldn't picture me as a Mom. I didn't think I had it in me. Of course everything changed once I found out I was pregnant. My maternal instincts took over. I loved my baby from the very beginning. Before she was even born and now I know she is the best thing that's ever happened to me. I still can't believe I got pregnant so easily at 42 but I know that it was meant to be. Someone told me that they know several women who have become pregnant in their 40s. It's almost like a sudden burst of fertility takes over. It's as though the biological clock is ticking, the body knows it's running out of time so it kicks things up a notch. The body's last hurrah. I know that I was healthier than I had ever been. Eating right and exercising. So I guess it was the perfect time for a baby to make an appearance. Little did I know.

 

When the party was over and after I finally got Michelle settled down I went to tidy up. There were chip crumbs everywhere, cake remnants on the floor, the table (even under the glass table that I'd covered with a tablecloth) and chairs, bits of crayon smushed on the hardwood, crumbs in the couch. I smiled. Kids are exhausting. They are messy. They can be wild (I was afraid at a few points that my nieces and nephews were going to spill something or break something -- it's happened before -- and they were trying to play with Michelle's swing and jumperoo.) But they are so full of energy and excitement. They're so free. They're not uptight and stressed out like me. I wish I was a little more laid back. I tend to be a bit of a control freak. I hope I'm able to relax enough to give Michelle room to explore without worrying and nagging. I don't want to be a Mom who worries about everything and who says "No" to everything. I know I hated it when Mom said "No" so much (and apparently it wound up being my first word!) I will probably have to kid-proof the house a lot more before Michelle is on the move. She's already trying to crawl (rolling onto her tummy and lifting her butt up like an inchworm trying to scooch along the floor). Who knows when she'll be walking? I want to give her a taste of freedom and independence while still keeping her safe. It's a tough balance as a parent. You don't want to be too strict or too lenient. You don't want to be a nag or a pushover. At least there is only one of her. I don't know how people manage with several small children!

 

I love my big crazy family, even though at times they can be overwhelming. I feel blessed to have them in my life. I am especially grateful to Mom and Dad for bringing us into the world. Mom was feeling very sentimental while she was reading her cards and started to tear up. I've always been a sap and am even more so these days with my breastfeeding hormones raging. I started to cry when I picked out Mom's birthday card. It talked about being a Mom -- being the first voice that your child hears, the first face that they see, the first pair of arms that hold them. There is nothing on the planet more difficult or more incredible than being a Mom. One woman that I ran into recently said that she believes having children is something that every woman should experience. As a woman it is the most extraordinary experience you can have. I agree. I never expected it for myself but I am so grateful. It is the greatest gift.

 

I will try to be the best Mom I can be. I won't always be perfect. I won't always be patient. I won't always have the right answers. But I will always always love her. My Mom wasn't perfect but I am so grateful to her for all that she's done for me. It wasn't until having my own child that I could fully appreciate and understand what being a Mom means.  

 

 



Monday's Child...

"Monday's child is fair of face..." as the poem begins. I was born on a Monday. Being a natural redhead with freckles who doesn't tan easily, I certainly could be called "fair" as in pale. As far as the "fairest in the land" context goes, that's open for debate. I've been called an ugly duckling and a swan. These days bloated and waddling around I think I'm leaning more toward the duck!

My baby was supposed to be born last Monday (the 23rd.) I've read that a mere 5% of people actually give birth on their due date so it's really little more than a guess. 50% of people have their babies late. I've heard it's really common to go later when it's your first child. So I guess this is nothing out of the ordinary. But I was really counting on having her last week. She will still be a Monday's child tomorrow, the 30th, since my doctor is inducing me. Unless of course she surprises me today/tonight (in which case according to the poem she would be "bonny and blithe and good and gay.")

I'm a bit nervous about the induction. The doctor explained to me that I'd be given oxytocin and my water would be broken. I had heard that when labour is induced it is more painful than when it happens naturally (which frankly for someone with a phobia of pain is NOT good news!) She admitted that it would be more intense. The trade-off is that it is shorter lived. Natural labour tends to last about 24 hours and induced labour about 12 hours, on average. More pain for less time? Not sure I'm sold but I know that labour is no picnic regardless. Having gone a week overdue though, I know that I don't want to be pregnant one more minute! Enough is enough!

My feet have been bloated for a long while. Mostly the tops of my feet (big and purple and puffy). Now even the soles of my feet hurt. They are bulbous and sore, making it that much harder and more painful to walk. It's like walking on hot coals or a bed of nails. I am reminded of the little mermaid when she had her wished for legs but every step hurt like a knife.

Speaking of mermaids, and other sea creatures, my niece and I created a sea theme mobile for the nursery. I hadn't been able to find a mobile like I wanted so my talented niece Shannon and I created our own. My sister joked that the baby hadn't been born yet because she was waiting for her mobile to be finished. Well, we're done baby so you can come out now! Everything else in the nursery was done. My frantic nesting pretty much covered everything else.

Shannon and I designed our little creatures, cut them out of felt, stuffed and sewed them. She did a seahorse, octopus, starfish and fish. I made a seahorse, whale, mermaid and fish. We had fun making it and I'm thrilled with the results. I think it's really cute and much more personal than just going out and buying a mobile. My niece is an artist like me. I'm hoping maybe my little girl will be too...

I've been trying to keep busy. Sewing mobiles. Going out on excursions. Might as well. I can't just sit around and wait. A watched pot never boils. A watched belly never births. I have had a lot more energy for the last while, despite the physical challenges of moving around. Though the doctor denied it, other people have told me that walking around helps to bring on labour. I figure it can't hurt. My doc did say that the baby was lower and that my body was getting ready. I am getting more intense pain and pressure "down there" so stuff is definitely going on. I read that it's helpful to visualize your body as a flower blossoming or a fruit ripening. I think I'm pretty ripe at this point. Now I just have to bear the fruit of my womb. Hopefully more like an apple than a watermelon. (I'm still trying not to think about how any woman survives passing a baby through there! I know it stretches A LOT. I'm counting on the epidural to save me from feeling most of it. And I'm hoping I shrink back to my original size -- inside and out -- when it's all over.)

We went swimming again. Might as well try to enjoy the summer sun some of the time. As you can see, I look like an absolute GIANT! The water was refreshing but I seem to feel the cold more than usual. Sometimes I get the chills. I enjoyed just feeling the sun on my big old legs for a bit and watching my sister with her kids in the water. She is my inspiration. It's still hard for me to believe I'm going to be a Mom! It's an incredible blessing and an overwhelming responsibility at the same time. When I see how much my niece and nephew love her and need her I realize how much it means to be a mother -- Mama is God. You are their world, their joy, their teacher, their safe place, their everything.

When May is out of sight, even for a few moments, Reggie is asking where "Mama be?" For much of my life I had been looking for an all-encompassing love. It looks like I've found it because being a mother you experience more love than ever. Of course you lose the ability to have more than a moment to yourself, but the reward is worth it.

My sister has been a godsend for me through this process. Each step of the journey she has been so supportive and nurturing. She reassures me, calms me down, keeps me grounded, makes me laugh. I don't know how I would have gotten through it all without her. My Mom has been there too of course but Mom is a worrier and can stress me out! She drives me crazy sometimes! She checks on me every day to make sure I'm all right. She seemed to think I was going to have my baby early. Now she has to admit she was wrong. If she'd had her way I would have been sitting around carefully avoiding doing anything, with my hospital bag ready. I'm glad I kept busy instead and didn't let the possible onset of labour stop me from going out and doing things. It would have made the last month even harder to get through.

At least I know that tomorrow is it. The day is finally here. No more waiting. My niece asked if I was scared. "Yes." She asked if I was excited. "Yes!" All of the above. This is the biggest day of my life, by far. Everything is about to change. My sister told me that once I see my baby, I will be mesmerized. I won't be able to stop staring at her for quite a while. I will be absolutely overcome. I've been carrying her around so long, talking to her, singing to her, feeling her move, that I feel such a strong bond already. I can't wait to meet her. I know that she will be worth the (even longer than expected!) wait.

I just hope that labour goes relatively smoothly and pain-free...

Wish me luck tomorrow!!!

Baby, you're worth it!

I've been told that being a Mom is the hardest job I'll ever have and the most rewarding. My life has already been turned upside down in ways I never imagined possible. Physically, emotionally and mentally, this baby has taken me over! But I surrender control. Baby, you're worth it! It's amazing how your priorities, your lifestyle, every aspect of your life begins to change, but it feels right. You are becoming a different person and the things that used to seem so important aren't as significant.

I still have to sell my car. The payments are killing me and to continue paying for a car that I haven't driven in months (my parents gave me their old car to use and the MX5 has been stored in their garage since December) and that I wouldn't be able to drive with the baby (or even for 12 years as a single Mom. You can't put a carseat in a 2-seater!) is painful. I've been trying to sell it online. Unfortunately, buyers usually want to negotiate. Because I have to get what's still owing on it, there really isn't room for negotiation. It's a nearly new car. People don't usually buy/sell a car after only a year or so. I'm trying not to panic. I know that things have a way of working out. But I need to sell the car ASAP. If you know anyone who lives in the GTA (specifically Oakville, Ontario, Canada) and is in the market for an almost new Mazda MX5 convertible, PLEASE LET ME KNOW! Write to me at amp2sell@gmail.com
Here's the ad on Kijiji:
http://toronto.kijiji.ca/c-cars-vehicles-cars-trucks-2010-Mazda-MX-5-Miata-GX-Convertible-W0QQAdIdZ386622847

I've made changes around the house. My sleek glass and chrome coffee table has been replaced by a much more kid-friendly leather ottoman with storage for toys. The nursery is painted and set up (just waiting for my brother in law to deliver the crib, rocker, change table.) All the baby's clothes have been washed in special baby detergent and organized in the dresser and closet by size/age. I suspect I'll be doing even more nesting as time goes on. I felt ambitious and cleaned the garage a couple of weeks ago. I washed the floors for the first time in a long while.



40 lbs heavier...so far!


Of course the biggest changes have been in me, physically and mentally. I've gained 40 lbs. It's still kind of surreal to me when I look at myself in the mirror. From the neck up, I'm still me. From the neck down I wouldn't recognize myself! My chest, stomach and legs are bigger than I ever could have imagined. And I still have more than a month to go! For the most part I've enjoyed being pregnant but it is a challenge and the bigger I get the more difficult everything is. Breathing. Moving. Mentally it's harder to concentrate. They called it "baby brain" at work. Admittedly I have been a little distracted/absent-minded...



Last yr & hopefully later this year!



One day I was at the mall and got a couple of cute little outfits at the children's store. I decided to walk to the video store at the other end of the mall. I have apparently lost my copy of Jillian Michaels' "30 Day Shred" and I want to have it on hand for after the baby. As soon as I get the OK from my doctor to work out after delivery, I'm doing it. I lost 15 lbs on it last time. I'm determined to get my shape back.

Anyway, I was happy to find that the store had the DVD but when I went to pay for it, my heart sank. My credit card was missing! OMG! I panicked. I realized I must have left it at the children's store, at the complete opposite end of the mall. "I'll be back," I told the cashier. She saw the panicked look in my eyes and my eight month pregnant belly and warned "Don't run! Take your time." But I had to hurry. What if the card wasn't there? What if someone picked it up/stole it? My heart was pounding. I was at a walking run but it was difficult with the large belly. On top of that, my ribs were aching, I had trouble breathing. My feet and legs were numb, swollen. The pressure in my pelvis/abdomen was unbearable. I was afraid I'd go into labour. I was sweating, out of breath, must have looked a sight. By the time I got back to the store I was almost in tears. I could barely speak. "I" gasp "forgot" pant "my" wheeze "credit card!" There it was still sticking out of the machine. Most machines tell you to please remove your card before the receipt prints. This one, sadly, did not. I have never left my credit card. Then again I've never been pregnant (and never thought I would be!), this is the first time I've experienced "baby brain." I was so relieved to have my card back. I sat down on a bench outside the store to catch my breath. My feet were purple. Somehow I had to make it to the other end of the mall to buy my workout DVD. Ironically this was the biggest workout I'd had in 8 months!

Yes life is definitely different this June. Last year I was hitting the beach, wearing a different bikini every day, driving with the top down, dating a tall blond sunkissed Hungarian god. This year I'm alone, driving my parents' old Hyundai, sporting a big ole belly, wearing maternity clothes. I haven't been to the beach yet. I'm not quite as anxious to go now that my legs are twice the size and stark white. I still love the sun but I'm feeling the heat a lot more with the extra weight. I can't date (though this is just as well. My baby girl is keeping me out of trouble for a change! I needed a break from men!) I can't go out dancing. I can't do my yoga. (Well I could manage some of the positions I suppose, but certainly not the headstand which I was doing daily before. Most of the positions are impossible or extremely uncomfortable so I've just avoided it until I get my shape, strength, balance and flexibility back.) Easily exhausted, there is a lot less I can do. Work is more difficult. It's uncomfortable sitting for 12 hour shifts now with a sore back, heartburn, pain in my ribs, swollen legs and feet. And those embarassingly frequent trips to the bathroom (sometimes almost running to make it!) And mentally I often feel like my head is in a fog. There is so much on my mind it's harder to concentrate. Sometimes I forget the simplest things, like my password to log on to the computer. Baby brain.

When I overdo it these days I usually suffer afterward so I try to take it easy when I can. Sometimes I'll put my feet up and watch TV. "The Bachelorette" is the only show I make a point of watching. I am a reality TV junkie. Watching TLC's "A Baby Story" is usually a bad idea. I always end up crying at the birth. It's a bit melancholy as well always seeing happy couples awaiting their new arrival. The only episode I saw where the woman was alone was a widow whose hubby was killed by a roadside bomb while overseas. She was clutching his dog tags while in labour. Sometimes it feels like I'm the only one in my situation, (abandoned by the baby's deadbeat dad when I was four months pregnant) but I've talked to other single Moms and learned that it's actually quite common. Apparently a lot of men discover at some point during the pregnancy that they aren't ready or willing to be fathers and skip out.

I've been reading more lately too. Sitting out on the garden swing my Mom gave me. I heard about a book called "Rattled" by Christine Coppa. It's a memoir of her journey through pregnancy. I ordered it from Chapters and loved it. Christine was 26 and living the life of her dreams -- living in New York City, working at Glamour magazine, having fun with friends and dating a cute guy. Then suddenly she becomes pregnant unexpectedly, after just a few months of dating her new beau. Initially she's shocked and terrified. The baby's father seems enthusiastic and supportive in the beginning. Shortly thereafter however, he gets cold feet, has a change of heart and realizes he's not ready to be a father. He leaves her and even after the child is born, he opts not to be a part of their lives. Though she has to give up her lifestyle (living in NYC, pulling all nighters drinking with her friends) and move to the suburbs, she soon realizes that all the changes are worth it. Her baby boy, Jack Domenic is the best thing that ever happened to her. I found myself smiling and giggling at her humour, moved to tears by her warmth and honesty, inspired by her strength. Funny, poignant and engaging, her story proves how sometimes it's the unexpected detours in life that become the best things in your life. Though she was much younger than me I could relate to her situation. Getting pregnant was the biggest shock of my life, being abandoned by the baby's father was the next one, yet I know that it was all meant to be this way, that I am already a stronger, better person for it and that this baby will be the best thing that ever happened to me.

I do want to be prepared. I continue to get things ready for the baby. I just finished my last mermaid painting for the nursery. I had three large square canvases (a gift from the Hungarian god last year) and hadn't gotten around to painting. The baby inspired me to paint again. I had a vision of an ocean theme with mermaids and seahorses. I did a series of three canvases featuring mermaids with babies. I'm obsessed with the tropical/ocean theme. It's gradually taken over my entire house! Every room has some little touches. Turquoise walls and seahorse salt and pepper shakers in the kitchen, shells and fish and a tropical shower curtain in the bathroom. Tropical colours, plants and paintings in my bedroom. Even my backyard was transformed into a beach. I had always dreamed of living on an island. This was my way of bringing the island to me.

my bathroom



My bedroom. I painted an ocean view!



I'm always excited when I find new little ocean-themed items for the baby. Fish. Mermaids. Books and toys. I got a little book called "Mister Seahorse" by Eric Carle. It's a sweet little story. I had always been obsessed with seahorses but I never realized that with seahorses, it is actually the father that carries the babies! The female deposits the eggs into the male's pouch where he carries them for up to 45 days until the baby seahorses emerge fully developed. So the daddy gets to have a pregnant belly for a change! Once the babies are in the water however, apparently daddy's role is done and he takes off. The story makes it sound a little more cute and cuddly than that. It ends with Mr. Seahorse saying "I do love you, but now you are ready to be on your own." If only my baby's father had given us a goodbye like that.

It's a good thing that M didn't stick around because I'm sure he wouldn't have been too thrilled about his "office" being turned into the nursery. And God knows what kind of nursery theme he would have wanted. Skull and crossbones? Scorpions? He didn't share my love of bright, happy colours and cute things. I'm sure he's living in a dark dungeon of sorts somewhere with his swords and scorpions.

My Mom thinks I'm going overboard with the whole ocean theme. She can be critical sometimes. We were looking at crib bedding and she was pointing out how many other cute themes there are -- giraffes and elephants, monkeys, ladybugs, flowers. I just shook my head. It's my baby, my house, my choice! "What if the baby doesn't like fish?" she asked. I just rolled my eyes at her. Of course my baby is going to love tropical fish and seahorses and the ocean and mermaids. She'll love dolls and ballet and art and music. She's going to be a girlie girl like her Mama and we are going to live on a beach in a tropical paradise someday! So there!

So the nursery is just about done. I've finished reading all my pregnancy, birth and childcare books. I've done my homework but somehow I still don't feel prepared. As time goes by, I get increasingly nervous about labour, about caring for the baby. The reality starts to hit me. Months ago, I could think of it as something coming up on the horizon. It felt like I had so much time. Now July is sneaking up on me and I'm afraid. Am I ready? I had a dream that I was looking after a baby (in the dream it wasn't clear whether it was actually my baby or just some random baby I was looking after). There were no diapers and the baby just kept pooing. It just kept coming out. Little brown turds. Like a chocolate factory. I didn't know what to do. There wasn't even a garbage can or a toilet nearby. I had baby wipes but nothing else. I guess it represents my fear of being unprepared and feeling overwhelmed. Maybe I'm afraid of the constant diaper changes. Or maybe it's because of all my own trips to the bathroom recently. Of course I do have a stash of diapers for the baby already. I'm prepared with an arsenal of supplies -- diapers, wipes, cream, baby wash, lotion.

It's no wonder I'm nervous. I always experienced anxiety/stage fright before any impending change or upcoming event. This is by far the biggest event of my life, the biggest change. This was a responsibility I never expected to be taking on. I didn't plan to have kids. Fear was the main reason. Fear of responsibility, fear or pain, fear of change, fear of a tiny human taking over my life and me not being able to handle it. Of course I am excited too. It's a rollercoaster. It's terrifying and you scream but it's exhilarating and you feel so alive. This baby is a blessing, a miracle and I am incredibly grateful. At the same time, yeah, I'm scared! I used to worry about getting up on stage. And that's nothing. The worst that can happen is you forget your words and become a little embarassed. This is too important. I can't mess this up. This is someone's life. And it's a lot of pressure to be doing it on my own. Finances are a stress. How will we manage? I try not to panic. I know God will take care of me. He has so far. I just have to take it one day at a time. Somehow things will work out. For a recovering control freak, fear of the unknown is huge. This is such a drastic shift for me. I've been living for me, for four decades. I had relationships but never got married. I was always afraid to be alone but ironically also feared commitment. This is the biggest commitment ever. This is for life. I'm living for someone else now. And will I be a good Mom? I have to be. I am excited. I love my baby already. I can't wait to meet her. It's just scary. I'm a creature of habit. Change is always difficult. Even when it's a change for the better.

I just need to relax and trust that everything will be OK. Control what you can. Let the rest go. Go with the flow. You learn as you go. I don't have to know everything. I don't have to be perfect. It's not like preparing for a play where you learn your lines or a gig where you have your setlist. Improv always stressed me out in drama class. I didn't like thinking on my feet. I wanted to know what was coming next. Wanted to be prepared. The truth is you can't plan life to the letter. Even when you try, the unexpected can happen. That's part of the magic of life. Sometimes it surprises you with something better than you could have planned. You don't know what each day will bring. That's what makes it such an adventure. Baby will be calling the shots. It isn't up to me. I will learn as I go.

Even on my worst day, even when it's tough physically, emotionally, mentally, baby, you are worth it! I know that this was meant to be and that my whole life, all the adventures I've lived through were all just to lead me to this, to you. You are the best part of my journey. I wrote this song for you -- "Baby you're worth it..."

I am so excited about the baby. I have visions of us together. Snuggling her as a baby, running on the beach with her when she's a bit older. Singing to her, dancing with her, laughing with her. Sometimes I am so overcome with joy that it brings tears to my eyes.

It is still a shock. Sometimes I have to pinch myself. I am going to have a baby. I am going to fall in love with someone precious, innocent. I am going to open my heart so wide it feels like I may be torn in half. And it will be blissful, liberating, frightening. I am going to feel a bond like none I've ever felt, because this person is literally part of me. I am going to see the world through new eyes again, experience the magic and wonder of life anew. I am going to teach and learn so much. It is such a gift. And the bliss will be worth the stress. I am going to experience the greatest miracle this life has to offer -- creating life. I am going to be a mother!