Feeling the loss

My physical therapist, Larry Paster, passed away on July 6. One of the therapists from his practice called my house, but I was outside sweating profusely while installing a baby car seat into my husband's truck, so I missed the call. ARRRRGH! She didn't relay much information, though; Larry's wife called her, very distressed, obviously, and simply told her to call all the patients. Needless to say, I had trouble lifting my jaw off the floor when my sister gave me the message. He was only 63. Immediately I thought heart attack or stroke, you know, something sudden and quick. I stood there in disbelief. Utter. Disbelief. 

I went to the funeral service that Sunday, July 8. No, I was not close to him; he was my physical therapist who helped me with my shoulder and ankle. But I felt inclined to go, I guess because I liked his wife so much (she worked in the office, too). So, I, along with well over a hundred other people, paid our respects. We all sat there and listened to his son and two close friends speak about their love for this man, how devastated they were about his passing, and how much his absence left such a void in their broken hearts. There I sat, wondering, well, what the hell happened to him? I need to know.

His son gave a very moving and touching speech. One of the things he said was, "You lived like a rockstar and you died like a rockstar." Hmmm. What does that mean? Drug overdose? Hmmm. Then, one of his close friends mentioned the word "demon" in his speech. Okay. That could be any number of things: drugs, alcohol, gambling, the list goes on. Why be so evasive? Oh wait...it can't be. It just can't. I sat there feeling sadder than when I had first arrived. And then the final speech of the service, given by another of Larry's close friends, sealed the deal. He, too, used that word: demon. Ah, Larry. I was wrong. It wasn't drugs or alcohol or gambling. Pain was your demon. Mental anguish was your demon. Inner torture was your demon.

Three weeks later, I am still in disbelief. And feeling very sad. There hasn't been a day since July 6 that I haven't thought about Larry, or his wife Sharon, or their little dog Dooley who always greeted me at the office with sweet kisses. I don't know why it has affected me so much. I just hope Larry finally snuffed out those demons.

It's been ages

Can it really be almost a year since I last blogged? I guess I've been too busy (or too tired?) to write. Or maybe I just haven't had much to say. I doubt it really matters, though, since I have all of one follower, and I don't think even that one follower reads my posts. Anyhoo...

Mothers' Day is this weekend. I still sometimes can't believe that I'm a mom. And to think that this is my second one is even more strange. But my daughter brings my husband and me copious amounts of joy. We're both giddy with love for her. She's grown so much, changed so much, and learned so much in one short year, it's simply astounding. But as she gains more independence every day, I'm reminded of how fleeting these tender years truly are. She used to hold my hand all the time when she first started walking; in fact, it was hard for her to even let go. Now, I give her my hand and she shoves it away while saying, "NO!" Ouch. I'll admit it, that stings a little. But the sting goes away so quickly when she just randomly comes up to me and kisses my knee with her "mmmmmm-hhh" (it's hard to put letters to the sound she makes when giving kisses), or when she cuddles with me before bedtime, or when she puts her head in my lap while we're watching Sesame Street, though that's a very rare occurrence. I savor all those moments and bank them in my love vault. A child's love, my child's love, makes every single day  Mothers' Day.

Where has this year gone?

I realized recently that the year is more than half over now. And I cannot believe it. What the fuck? How did that happen? Have I been sleeping under a rock? No, I guess it's called having a baby. They're so adorable and compact, but they sure do take up a lot of time, energy, and space. A quick visit to my sister's house means preparing for 20 minutes. Diapers? Check. Bib? Check. Food? Check. Her favorite book? Check. Teether? Check. And the list goes on. Don't even get me started on a road trip. Ugh. The days of throwing together a quick overnight bag are looooong gone; instead, it's the pack-and-play, white noise maker, blankets, onesies, clothes, toys, food, diapers, wipes, Desitin...I could go on and on. As tired as I am, though, and as much as I'd love to get some of this year back somehow (I know it won't happen. DUH.), I wouldn't change a thing. Keely, you lovable little time-thief, you! How did you get to be 10 months old already? Sigh.

This was Keely last month, hanging out in her jumper.

I'm so amazed at everything Keely can do now and all the physical changes she's undergone in such a short amount of time. She's gone from 7 lbs, 4 oz at birth to a whopping 21 lbs now. We might need to rename her Hulky. She is 21 lbs of sheer strength and energy. Watch me try to change her diaper and you'll see what I mean. I have no idea how a diaper change became such a stressful event. For ME, not her! Before, I couldn't get her to spend any time on her tummy, and now that's all she wants to do--on the changing table, no less, and hanging over the side while she's at it! And nap time? Sheesh. You'd think I was making her walk the plank. She CLINGS to me, grabs anything she can (read: my hair), and cries desperately. If she knew how to say "no," I'm sure that's all I'd be hearing. Aside from the negative diaper change and nap time developments, this was an especially momentous week for Keely. Not only has she sprouted two more teeth (that's six already that she's cut!), but she officially started to crawl, too. She's dragging herself along the floor commando style, but she's still pretty freaking fast. She can do a complete 360 on her belly in like two seconds. Well, okay, maybe not TWO seconds, but you get my point. She's getting around like nobody's business, and there's no turning back now. Before I know it, she's going to be on all fours, terrorizing dust bunnies and eating crumbs off the floor that the Dyson and my weary, bespectacled eyes overlooked. And then, she'll be teetering around, pulling things off tables and knocking around fallen treasures. Lord help us all. How will Chez Bauer survive?

Thank you...

...to my daughter for making me not just A mother, but YOUR mother.
...to my mother for loving me every day.
...to all the mothers out there who have raised, nurtured, and cared for their children.

Happy Mothers' Day!

6 months

It's hard to believe the last time I posted anything was the day before I went into the hospital to deliver my baby six months ago. It's even harder to believe so much has changed since then. The transformation that my daughter Keely has undergone in this small timeframe is nothing short of amazing. Every day I look at her I am completely blown away by nearly everything she can do now. I often just watch her in complete awe. She's gone from being a constantly-sleeping, glued-to-my-boob newborn to a delightfully-squealing, hair-grabbing 18lb infant. Just last week she was sort of sitting, holding herself up in a tripod position with her arms. Today, her head still wobbles a little and she leans forward a lot, but she can sit up unassisted now for several seconds, all while chewing and drooling on a toy or whatever else is within her reach. Such progress in less than a week! It both elates and saddens me; I'm happy at her progress but realize how true the "they grow up so fast" saying is, and it makes the corners of my mouth droop downward with pangs of pain. I love her to pieces, though. I kiss her all the time and hold her close to me as often as I can because I know the day will soon come when she'll avoid my hugs and kisses like the plague. For now, I'll just drink in all of her delicious babiness and deny that each passing day takes her farther away from that very delicious babiness. 

273 days down, 1 to go

September seemed so far away back on January 6th, when my doctor's office confirmed that I was pregnant (I already had a feeling because I just felt "different" than the previous months, but I was still brought to tears when the nurse called and said, "You're pregnant!" in her sweet, sing-songy voice).  But here it is, September 8th already, and now I am only one day away from becoming a mother, something for which I've longed for many years.  It just feels really strange.  On the eve of my delivery, I feel a myriad of emotions: anxiety, nervousness, happiness, excitement, fear, and hmm, what is this...sadness?

Yes, I feel sad. This baby who has been attached to me, both literally and figuratively, will soon be its own entity.  And that saddens me.  She has been growing and flourishing in my womb for nine months, and tomorrow she will be in my arms and I will hold her tight, so that should make me happy, right?  Well, it DOES, but I am still saddened by the thought of not having her with me 24/7.  No more sharp jabs in the upper right rib (that was her favorite place to kick), no more feeling the rolls of her limber legs as she repositions herself against my lungs, no more feeling and seeing her hiccups in my lower left abdomen after my hearty meals.  As uncomfortable as I've felt these last few weeks, I will miss all those little reminders of her presence, or should I say "presents."

My husband asked me tonight, "Are you having postpartum depression already?"  I replied back, "No, I think it's PRE-partum depression, Babe."  Is there such a thing, though?  Clearly, the answer is a resounding "yes."

Homestretch

Today marks the 32nd week of my pregnancy, which roughly translates to 8 months. Only 8 more weeks of baking to go! Well, 7 really, since I'll likely be induced a week prior to my due date because of my diabetes and hypertension. It's weird how it simultaneously feels like both a long and short period of time. Eight months is a long time to have something brewing in your belly, but when I think about how much time I actually have left before she takes her first breath of life in the outside world, the panic and sheer terror begin to set in. Am I ready for all the pain? Am I ready for all the sleepless nights? Am I ready to be someone's PARENT, someone who is actually in charge of another small, helpless human being? It's all so daunting and ignites such fear in me, but it's also exhilarating and fills me with such excitement and anticipation! We are in for quite a loooong rollercoaster ride. Actually, I guess it's technically neverending. You never stop being a parent, even when they're in their teens and think they know it all, or when they're in their 20s and think they have everything figured out already, or even when they're in their 30s and are settled into a career, own property, perhaps even have their own children. No, parenthood is everlasting, and something for which I've waited all of my adult life.