that, right there.

I think sometimes as a parent, you get lost. You think being a parent is all about the day-in, day-out boring stuff like making sure your two year old brushes his teeth or wiping the gobs of snot from an already irritated nose.

It isn’t about that at all.

Those things are necessities, of course. No one wants to change a poopy diaper, but you certainly can’t just let it linger and sit there. Making sure that a child gets fed, hydrated, bathed, dressed, and combed are definitely a part of the minutiae of parenting.

But that moment, when your two-year-old, who had spurned you for attentions from daddy just hours before, only wants his mommy to hold his hand as he lays on the couch watching his favorite cartoon.

Or the moment, when it is three in the morning and your five-month old has grown so restless that you know it is only a matter of time until she opens her eyes and plaintively cries out for you. Where you rub the sleep from your eyes and hold her close, nursing her. Where she finishes, opens her eyes and gives you a big grin as she pulls your glasses off so she can touch your face and see you better.

That, right there. That is what it is about.

baby girl

cruel and unusual

There is nothing rational about my feelings about dropping my three month old child off for daycare. But I’m his Mommy, so I don’t have to be rational, right?

My brain knows and understands that he will be fine. In fact, he will be more than fine. He is in the care of a licensed facility with women who just ooh and ah over him every time we go in. They are more than capable of feeding, changing, and playing with him. He will adjust and get used to the environment and eventually nap just fine. The other little ones flock to him when he comes in, and he loves to watch them. It will be good for him.

But my heart says that no one knows him like I do. No one else anticipates when he is starting to get hungry or tired, or when he needs his pacifier, or when he wants a change in scenery or to sit up instead of laying down. No one else can get him to giggle quite the same, or get him to tell them a story full of coos and squeals quite the same. I have a happy baby because I know what makes him happy.

My brain knows and understands that he doesn’t love me any less, nor do I love him any less, just by virtue of the fact that he has to go to daycare. I am still his Mommy, and nothing is going to change that.

But my heart says that it doesn’t matter that daycare doesn’t change how we feel about each other. It says that is all the more reason to just stay home and cuddle him. I have nurtured him since the very moment he came into existence as a few multiplying cells, and I should be allowed to continue to do so.

My brain knows and understands that this is just how it has to be. I have substantial student loan debt that must be paid. We want to build a house eventually, and in order to do that we are going to have to try to save some more money. I went to school for years and years in order to become an attorney and I do like my job. If I want to keep it, I have to work.

But my heart says that I did this all wrong. We waited until after I finished school to start our family, and thought that was absolutely the right decision. But maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t. I never imagined the love I would feel for my own child, or that I might want to stay home with him. I never pictured myself as a stay at home mother. I thought I would be bored out of my mind. I could not have been more wrong. There is nothing more that I want in this world to be at home with that baby boy of mine, feeding him, playing with him, and watching every moment of his every day.

And that is what is quite possibly the hardest part of all of this to swallow: I inflicted this upon myself. This is all a direct result of the decisions I have made. I am not a person who lives with regrets, but I truly regret those decisions today. Maybe in the future it won’t be so heart-wrenchingly awful and I will be able to enjoy my work again. But for now? This arrangement is just cruel and unusual punishment.

things I never thought I’d say

“It’s 95 degrees outside? Wow, it’s a nice day.”

most important test of your life

A year ago, I was sitting in a room with other prospective attorneys, hand writing the answers to the essay questions for the bar exam. I thought that I was in the midst of the most important test of my life, but as it turned out, I was wrong.

A good friend of mine pointed out to the bar-takers of today that the most important test of your life might be a pregnancy test, or cancer screening. The bar exam certainly was the most important test of my career, but it is not anywhere near the most important test of my life.

The most important test of my life, right now anyway, is probably that little stick that told me that this baby was already growing. He already existed before there was really much of a way for me to tell. It’s definitely all about the perspective, because at the time I took the bar exam I would have laughed at anyone who told me that it wasn’t the most important test of my life. I studied all summer for it, took classes through law school to prepare me for it, and couldn’t work in my chosen career unless I passed it.

While failing the bar could certainly have been life-changing, nothing really is going to compare to what life is going to bring all because of the two little lines that appeared on that stick.  Like I said, it’s all about perspective!

it’s no surprise to me I am my own worst enemy*

Yesterday was one of the most stressful days of my pregnancy thus far, and I didn’t truly realize it until today.

I have this fear of needles. When I was a child, it sometimes took two nurses to hold me down and pry my fist apart so they could prick my finger. So, I’ve been ridiculous all along.  I’m obviously not that bad about it now — I just have to look away and breathe deeply. But I still can feel my blood pressure rise when I walk into the lab for a blood draw. It really just stresses me out.

I had to go in for the standard glucose tolerance test yesterday.  For the uninitiated, that means that you sit down in the lab and drink a very sweet drink designed to test your body’s response to sugar. Then, an hour later, they draw your blood and check the sugar levels. At my doctor’s office, during that hour wait you have your normal doctor’s appointment.

I downed the sickly-sweet drink and went in for my appointment – urine sample, weigh-in, and blood pressure check. My blood pressure came back pretty high — which is very unusual for me. The nurse left the room and I tried to relax and breathe, and not think about anything (i.e. the needle that they would be using in less than an hour to draw my blood, the possibility that I could have gestational diabetes which would result in me having to stick myself to check my blood sugar and even possibly use insulin, etc.).  The doctor came in a few minutes later and checked my blood pressure again, and it was normal.

I’m fairly certain that I had unknowingly worked myself up to the point of raising my blood pressure.  This resulted in extra blood being drawn for extra tests, extra steps to the usual examination, and an extra appointment scheduled in one week instead of two — the doctor wanted to make sure I wasn’t exhibiting symptoms of pre-eclampsia.  All because I was worried about gestational diabetes and the potential for having to stick myself — a fear which turned out to be totally unfounded because, as I found out this morning, my glucose numbers looked great.

After suffering through last night with being upset and getting very little sleep (and googling pre-eclampsia and eclampsia — here’s a tip: DON’T), I got a call from the doctor’s office that said my other labs looked great too. So no pre-eclampsia concerns at this time. I am just a bit anemic, and need to add an additional iron supplement to my daily round of vitamins. That’s it.

*insert huge sigh and maybe some tears of relief*

Sometimes, I just need to learn to relax and not worry so much. Then again, that’s kind of like telling the sky not to be blue.



*Post title from My Own Worst Enemy by Lit

sinking in

I think the fact that we will be parents in three short months is finally starting to sink in.  This is most likely being triggered by that good old nesting instinct and the fact that he’s now kicking so hard that he’s very clearly more than just a picture on the ultrasound.

This baby has nothing he needs except the few gifts we received from my mini-shower with family and a few sets of clothing from family. I’m feeling a little panicky about that.

We haven’t finished cleaning out what will be his room, let alone painted it or furnished it. I’m feeling a little panicky about that.

I want to pack the hospital bag, but it feels seriously ridiculous to do it. And we still need to work up a “to call” list and plan for who is going to be at the hospital before and after the baby gets here, and who those lovely helpful people will get to call. I’m such a planner…and I want to plan, but it’s really a bit early for it. Of course, I’m feeling a little panicky about that.

I’ve still not drawn up any estate planning documents and frankly am not sure when I am going to find the time.  I’m feeling a little panicky about that.

And that whole childbirth thing? Not going to lie. I’m feeling a little panicky about that.

Needless to say, we have a lot to accomplish in the next twelve and a half weeks. I’m kind of hoping that once July hits, things will start to fall into place. We’ll have the room cleaned out by then, we’ll get it painted and furnished and it will be fine. I’ll have a baby shower and shopping trips to get the things this baby needs. I’ll write the packing list and the to-call list and get the bag packed, and write my powers of attorney and such. We’ll take classes and have our tour of the hospital, and I’ll feel better about what’s to come.

And if any of that doesn’t happen or isn’t true, we’ll still get to meet our little boy at the end of all of it anyway. That’s what’s really important here.

six, really?

I stopped by here today, and find it hard to believe that it’s really been six whole months since my last post. What’s been going on?

Oh, well…

We found out we are expecting a baby just days after that last post. And because it was a secret until mid-February, I avoided the blog. You know, so I could avoid pulling a Jim from the Office and making a toast that totally reveals the big secret.

Then I had raging, horrifyingly awful morning (all-day) sickness until…oh…mid-May. And I had no energy for the blog. Or much of anything else, really.

And then I really just didn’t want to blog because I don’t want to become one of those people. The ones who only ever talk about their offspring, whether they have been born yet or not. My life has become more about focusing what’s going on inside my uterus and dealing with the rest of stuff as pretty much secondary.  There are still other things going on, which I am assured will end once the baby is born. 🙂 So I still avoided the blog.

But…I’ve now decided that guess what? It’s my blog. I’ll talk about whatever I want. So I’m back!

un, एक, një, uno, yksi, ein, ένας, en, um, 一个, jeden, isa, אחד

The number one has been on my mind a lot lately, because I learned a very valuable lesson this week.  It is a lesson that you may think is common sense.  I would agree but I also will say that the situation in which I learned this lesson was definitely a situation rife with a lack of common sense.

One little word can make the world of difference.  The inclusion or exclusion of one little word can have enormous, life-changing consequences in any type of case.  But it seems to me that this is especially true in family law cases.  Words like primary, or shall, or exclusive, or may, or joint, or sole.

It can mean people not doing things they clearly agreed to do, or doing things they clearly agreed not to do.  It can mean the difference between making ends meet or getting your home foreclosed on or your car repossessed.  It can mean a drastic change in legal custody or physical care of children that was not intended.  It can mean another attorney seizing on that inclusion or omission and running with it no matter the clear spirit of an agreement or decree, and no matter how ethical that behavior may or may not be.

I’ve always known that the legal world is one of technicalities, and accuracy is paramount when you are constantly in that kind of domain.  I would say that I look for those same inclusions or omissions to protect my client’s interests just like any other lawyer would.  But I know the difference between protecting my client’s interests and taking advantage of a situation when it is clear to everyone involved that my argument is absurd to begin with.  I would never give the kind of advice that was given in the case I’ve dealt with this week, because I know that it is wrong.

I know where to draw the line.  I guess that is one difference between this other attorney and me.

And I like that one difference.