Fifi

Fifi was born when I was 15. I didn't know her then. She came into my life when I worked at an animal hospital, 2.5 years ago. She arrived there as a stray. We had some records and I made effort to find her owners, even driving to several different addresses. Finally, I left a note in an apparently abandoned home with my contact information at the animal hospital. A few days later, a social worker contacted us. Fifi's owner, a woman in her late 80s, was in the hospital. The woman's daughter, in her 40s, was developmentally disabled, and staying in a host home- from which Fifi had run away. At first, they wanted to take Fifi back. But, when they found out I had offered to care for her, they turned her over, and she was ours.

I was so worried about bringing another dog home. I already had Koda, and I was afraid the presence of another pup would break her heart. Instead, they became the best of friends. Fifi didn't know how to play, but Koda taught her. They would wrestle as though they were young. Koda taught Fifi how to shake, too.

Fifi was a corgi mix. It seems likely that there was chow-chow in there somewhere. She was eternally sweet, always smiling, constantly wagging her tail. She never complained. She had precious freckles on her nose and toes. Everyone would stop us and ask us about her. I mean everyone.

Fifi adventured with us. She moved with us to Mexico. There, she became a neighborhood mascot. One man would yell her name whenever he saw her. Friends gave her the ironic nickname of "Murder Dog." Fifi ran on beaches, and was tackled by waves more than once.

Six days ago, a tumor was found in Fifi's abdomen. She wasn't eating, and when she did, she couldn't keep it down. Today, we decided it was time to let her go. We have been struggling with how to decide. More than anything, we didn't want her to suffer. She went peacefully, with Brian and I, and some close friends, by her side.

I can't fathom that she is gone. There is an emptiness in the house. She loved to lie in the recliner, or with her head resting on the front window sill, watching the neighborhood. She was a constant companion, and greeted us with a smile every day. She was simple and sweet. She endured all our adventuring. She was the best.

I love you Miss Fifi, I will always remember you, you will forever make me smile. I wish you could have been with us all our lives. I hope that somehow you know my gratitude for and to you. Thank you for your trust and friendship. Rest peacefully.

Gratitude

I just read a news story about a girl who was diagnosed with osteosarcoma at age 11. She had tumors on her spine, and despite traditional treatments, was told she would die in 3 months. That was in 1997. This year she celebrated 13 years since her diagnosis. She was given an experimental treatment that saved her life. She calls the anniversary of her diagnosis her "Glad to Be Alive" day.

This girl, now a young woman, wrote about how she is glad for all the positive things cancer brought into her life. And it reminded me...

When I was 13 years old, I was diagnosed with a rare auto-immune disease. I was one of two girls in Colorado who had it. Treatment included heavy duty steroids, chemotherapy, and monthly trips to the hospital for infusions of gamma-globulin. Cancer, it was not. Except for the day of my diagnosis, I never feared for my life. I knew that I would get through it. After 2 years, my disease was in remission, and it never came back.

Some people said to me, "I'm sorry you had to go through that." And I appreciate that sentiment. But, I'm not sorry. Experiencing such a challenge was an incredible lesson- about gratitude, about what is really important in life. Because of my experience, I have strength. The experience simplifies things for me. There is a lot of other "stuff" that consumes people, that doesn't really matter. Some days, it gets me, too. But, ultimately, every day, I think about how blessed I am, especially now that I am a Mom. I think the challenge was there so that I could be grateful.

Week 2

I am just about to start week 2 of work. Week 1 went remarkably well. I cried each time I left Kinnie, though each time the tears were dried more quickly. I think I will love my job- it will keep me busy, which is good when I want time to pass to get home to my baby. Kinnie has handled the transition well. We love her daycare provider so far- she is a woman who specializes in babies under 3 years old. She is attentive and relaxed and caring. There are three other girls there when Kinnie is, and she loves to watch them. In the past week, she has become even more talkative, and I wonder if it is, in part, her effort to communicate with the other kids.

I was rocking Kinnie last night, after her nighttime meal. She was asleep, and I was watching her, imagining what life will be like when she is one year, or ten years, or when she is moving out on her own for the first time. I realized I feel so unprepared for those things. It is so lovely that parenthood is a process. So, while none of those milestones will happen tomorrow, when I look back, it will probably feel as though it was just yesterday that I was rocking my little infant to sleep. Because we're together every day, and I see her grow and develop, when those milestones do get here, I will be ready.

I am so grateful for this experience. I can't believe how it has changed my life, and my outlook on life. A cousin wrote that life before kids is black and white, and after kids, life is in color. That's the best description I have heard. And no one could have explained it to me before she was born. There just aren't words. And, I think one doesn't know this kind of love and awe and gratitude until they are looking into their child's face for the first time.

3 months, 9 days

Kinnie is amazing. She can laugh, coo, almost sit up, hold toys in her hands. Every day there is some small advancement (and some days bigger ones)- she fine tunes the use of her hands, or adds another sound to her repertoire of "ooh"s and "ah"s. Her favorite thing right now is to lie on a blanket on the floor and practice kicking, rolling (with help), and sitting up (also with a little help). She spends a great deal of time staring at her hands and feet. She has also started making an "ooo" sound repeatedly when she is looking at something she likes. She loves being in her bjorn, which is now how we go about shopping. She could stare at trees for hours. I am glad she seems as though she'll appreciate the outdoors. Now I just have to get her to the beach...

Motherhood is also amazing. For all it's challenges, and for all the tears I have shed, there is nothing I would rather do in my life.

Last night was Kinnie's first night in her own room, in her crib. She had been building up to it, having naps in the crib during the day and sleeping in our room at night. She went to bed the same as normal, but awakened at 6:15 instead of her usual 7:45. I have a feeling she opened her eyes and realized that there was so much more to look at in her own room. I went in and she was smiling and wiggling all over the place. So, she handled it well. I, on the other hand, bawled. It was the first night in her life that we didn't sleep in the same room. She was ALL the way down the hall. Just imagine when she goes to college...

I have one week left at home until I start working part time. People keep asking me how I feel, and my answer is always that it depends on the moment. The most difficult part right now is finding daycare. I have several options that I am looking at- with Brian's help, of course. Sometimes I feel as though I must choose between the lesser of evils- not because what I'm looking into is bad, but because there isn't any day care that can provide the one on one attention that I would love for Kinnie. Still, there are those that do close to that. Mama bear just has to be willing to trust that baby bear will be well cared for and loved.

More to come soon, I hope...

Joy

My little Kinnie just laughed for the first time. It made me laugh and cry. It tickled my heart. She can now fully express her joy and happiness. There is nothing sweeter.

She is 12 weeks today.

My feet and hers

I knew my feet expanded during pregnancy. But, as flip flop season is coming to a close, I have been putting on my "regular" shoes again. And it seems they're too small. My feet have not shrunk back down to size. I have a fierce shoe collection (if I do say so myself), and may be a little heartbroken about this situation. Enough about me. On to the important one...

Kinnie has discovered her feet this week. When in the correct position, she just stares- especially at her left foot. She distinctly grabbed for it twice yesterday with her left hand (might we have a south paw on our hands???). Her control of her hands is improving, though she manages to smack herself in the face dozens of times every day. It is a hilarious and painful process to watch, all at the same time.

Kinnie has also figured out how to pull herself to sitting when she is in a semi-reclined position, which she often is when she is in our laps. This makes her a slightly more dangerous little thing, as she could roll herself off my legs at any time.

A laugh is coming. I know it is. She opens her mouth in a wide smile, and I can almost hear it.

We're going through a phase in which Kinnie is quite sure I am the only person who can comfort her when she is upset. Though I am flattered, I also hope she will be over this soon. If she is upset, tired, or hungry, and is someone else's arms, she amplifies her upset.

My anxiety, in general, is improving. I don't want to jinx anything, but it appears that Kinnie is past her colic. Now, when she cries, there is a discernible reason. It is a relief, and I really wonder if there is a need for more of a support system for parents of babies who suffer from colicky symptoms. It is such a difficult, heartbreaking, and isolating thing.

She is also sleeping through the night. Like, 10-11 hours every night since she was 10 weeks old. It has been so nice for me not to have my sleep broken up by a midnight feeding. It is now time for her to move into her own room, which tugs at my heart strings a bit. I know we will all sleep better, but knowing she is right there is somewhat comforting. I can awaken at night and just stare at her.

I am looking at going back to work in the next month. A good job possibility has dropped into my lap. It is part time, counseling adolescents involved in the criminal justice system, working for a supervisor who I very much respect and enjoy. It is a bittersweet thing. I think I am not meant to be a "stay at home" mom. As much as I have cherished the time with Kinnie, I get lonely. It is hard to believe that she is coming up on twelve weeks. It really does just keep getting better.

Brian had a great job interview this week, and we are very hopeful that soon he will be working one full time job, that will earn as much as he is making working 50-60 hours per week right now. He deserves it, and it will be so nice to have him home more.

Perspective

A friend of a friend lost her newborn baby. I don't know the circumstances, and I don't know the family. I only know of his passing because of social networking. It is tragic. And, it leaves me thinking, what do I have to complain about? When my baby is fussy, when I feel taxed... Really, all those things are blessings. Because those are things that will be missed by a mother whose child left this world all too soon. I will live this day in gratitude...

Let me be honest...

Motherhood has been an anxiety provoking experience for me. It has been wonderful, amazing, beautiful, and, truly the best thing that has ever happened for me. And, I'm anxious in a way that I haven't been before. In a way that doesn't suit me. I have hinted at it in previous posts, but have felt ashamed that I can't easily go with the flow. I have been looking for reasons, and still don't fully understand. But, it's time to own it, admit it, and figure it out.

Much of my anxiety is about Kinnie crying. As I wrote in my last post, she is passionate person. She has some good cries. And it just kills me. First, I worried that she was in pain or unhappy. Then, I started thinking, "what kind of mother must these people think I am?" Then I started thinking, "what kind of mother am I that my baby cries?"

I know. Duh. Babies cry. Kinnie cries much less than she smiles, and thinks, and sits contentedly. But those moments when she wails (or even just fusses) feel so long. I think I imagined that my first child would be "easy," whatever that means. I didn't imagine that she would be colicky, whatever that means. I thought she'd eat, smile, sleep, and repeat. She does. It's just that there is "fuss" added in there, usually a couple times per day.

I have attempted to adopt a healthier perspective about a baby's cries, in general. That it is their way of communicating a lot of things, or just letting off steam. That no one judges me for the fact that she cries. That she is thriving and happy. That, most nights I get at least 5 hours of sleep in a row, which is incredibly lucky. That there will come a time when I will miss that my daughter was this tiny little being. That I WANT Kinnie to be able to express herself, and I don't want her to feel stifled by her mom's distaste for the fussing.

I am trying to use logic to counter the emotion I experience, which often works well. But, in my own self pondering, I often want to understand WHY I feel the way I feel. In Mexico, I felt so good, and more laid back than ever. Now, I have to do a lot of self-talk to get to that place. Yes, there have been a few transitions between there and here. But why can't I just exist in that easy going state of mind? When I can get there, I feel so much better.

I suppose, in time, the answers will come. And, I am learning important lessons along the way.

The best (and hardest) job

Long time, no post. The truth is that I have started keeping a journal for Kinnie- the handwritten kind. I write several times a week. It feels too personal to post it all online. And I think writing in it has depleted my inspiration to write here. However, my two fans have requested that I return to this. It, too, is a valuable outlet, and good place to record this adventure.

Kinnie is 2 months old. In some ways, it seems impossible that that much time has passed. In others, it feels as though they have been looooong months. My daughter is a delight, and every day becomes more so. She smiles a lot now, and coos. Her favorite sounds are "ah-woof," and "oh wow." She wants to laugh- she'll open her mouth in a wide smile and one can tell there is a squeal about to burst from her. She holds her own head up for 30 or more seconds. She is growing longer, and thicker, and when I carry her it feels so different from two months ago. One of our coming victories is that she is finding her thumb for sucking- instant calming effect. Though still fragile, she is strong.

I think that Kinnie is a passionate little person. When I was pregnant with her, I was asked if I thought I might have an idea about her personality. I think my answer was, "she's going to be a little feisty, and sweet as can be." Everything she does is with all her effort, whether it's "talking," smiling, being attentive, or crying. This makes the crying spells tough some days, but so worth the way she does everything else.

Motherhood is not what I imagined. It is such an intense experience, in so many different ways. Most intense is the warmth in my heart when I look at my daughter. In the first month, there were many moments when I would worry about how fast she was growing, worried that I'd miss my teeny tiny baby. And, when I look at her newborn pictures, I still feel that longing in my heart. At the same time, I now understand that it just keeps getting better. When she was that tiny little thing, she couldn't interact with me the way she does now. She spends hours every day in my lap, looking around, looking at me, expressing herself. And I know that will continue to build.

My confidence as a Mom is building, too, though every day I am taught a little humility. Kinnie is still not a scheduled baby, though her days seem to be becoming a bit more regular. But, as soon as I think I've got it figured out, something changes. I think there is a lesson for me in this, and I am doing a lot of focusing on being in the present moment, and not worrying about what comes next. These days are precious.

This time

Kinnie is a month old today. In some ways it seems impossible that she has been in our lives this long, and in others, it feels as though it has been a long month. The learning curve for us, new parents, is quite sharp. I love her more and more every day. She is beginning to get the idea of a smile. It seems to happen in response to our smiles, and a general sense of contentment (usually after her belly is full from a big meal). She is getting stronger and stronger, and I noticed last night when I was changing her that her body is getting thicker. She no longer has chicken legs- there is meat on her bones. She'll hold up her head, and is working on being able to coo. This morning I found her in her bassinet, wide awake, looking around, and making little noises.

I know that Brian and I will look back on this time as some of the most special in our lives. How many families get to stay home together in the first month? This kind of bonding has been precious.

There is something about seemingly unlimited time. For some reason, things don't get done. I have housework I could do, filing of papers, phone calls I should make. But, when it seems that all there is, is time, there is certainly no hurry to get anything done. I am trying to get motivated, but, so far, haven't been very successful beyond taking care of Kinnie. I figure that's the most important thing right now, anyway.

It's not that the bad outweighs the good, not at all. But if I am honest, the tough stuff does impact this time. Brian is still looking for work. He'll be a substitute teacher, if nothing else. But that's not what he really wants, and it doesn't provide for us as well as if he was a contracted, full-time teacher. There is this weight, especially on him. We both wonder how things are going to work out, how we're going to ensure all the bills get paid. I wonder if I'll have to go back to work sooner than I had hoped.

This lack of certainty about what happens next is difficult to live with. I try to stay present, to just enjoy each moment of each day as something special and unique. But there's a lot of down time, when the baby is sleeping, to just think, and wonder. And, it makes it tough to leave the house, because so often leaving the house requires spending some money.

I hope that in another month, I'll be able to look back on this post and think, "I'm so glad this all worked out." I'm still hoping.

On being dynamic

Where did I get the idea that after 22 days of parenting, I would have it down? Do people talk about the realities of being a parent, but we don't listen unless we already are parents? Or is this some big secret left to be found out once you have a child??? Did you know that every day is different? That just because you have three days in a row during which your baby seems adjusted to a routine, that the fourth day can seem like a calamity? I swear no one mentioned that when you are a nursing mom, your milk lets down at the strangest of times- like when you're feeding your dog (she is my first baby...), or looking at your husband's baby book...

Then, there is the issue of what can be accomplished in any given day. I laid in the bath this morning, knowing Kinnie was sound asleep, and pondered what I might get done today. I thought I might paint my toenails, since it has been over a month since my last pedicure. Then, I remembered that I was considering changing our bedsheets. Oh, and there are a couple of loads of laundry to get done.

When I moved to Mexico just under a year ago, sage advice was shared with me. It was that while living in Mexico, one should plan to accomplish just one thing every day. Don't make a huge list of errands to run, because the pace of life may interfere with getting much done at all. I think having a newborn is the same way. Technically, today, I have accomplished eating breakfast, and taking a bath. I probably shouldn't ask for much more, because who knows when my little bundle will awaken, and who knows whether she'll be fussy again this afternoon.

While pondering in my bath, I realized that I need to make a shift in my thinking. I have been anxious almost everyday, anticipating what the day might bring. Am I going to have time for a nap? Is Kinnie going to be wide awake, or sleepy all afternoon? Is she going through an apparent growth spurt, driving her to be hungry much more frequently than two days ago? I can carry these wonderings around with me, and have them weigh on me. Or, I can accept the unpredictability, and roll with it. I learned that lesson well in Mexico. But I forgot it over the last several weeks. Time to relearn, I think. We'll all be happier if Mama can be a little more laid back.

Through all of the ups and downs, when I watch my baby sleep, or when she is lying in my lap, taking in the world, there is nothing better. My heart swells with love, and I am grateful for this new adventure.

Sentiments and sentimentality

My baby will be 3 weeks old tomorrow. It has been a whirlwind and maybe the fastest 21 days of my life. The only way to describe how I feel is to liken the experience to being on vacation. For me, about halfway through a vacation, I start to feel sad that the trip will come to an end. And, at the same time, I try to stay present in every moment, so as not to miss a thing. While, with Kinnie, there is so much to look forward to, I know also that there will be a time, very soon, when I miss the days of her being so tiny, so innocent, and so dependent on us.

She changes every day. She makes more eye contact, watches our faces, watches other things in her world. It is so different from when she wouldn't open her eyes. We spend time every day looking around, looking at each other, talking. She seems as though she wants so badly to open her mouth and put words to what she is thinking.

The adjustment to parenthood is an amazing journey in itself. I think this is especially so for me, because of all the transitions that have occurred in my life in the last year. I barely had time to get back from Mexico and get used to life in the States again before Kinnie was born. I feel as though my time away strengthened my sense of self, but I'll admit that reinventing my identity with the inclusion of "mom" challenges me. How do the two sides of me fit together? I think this will take some time, and a return to some sense of normalcy in life. The challenge is greater still because neither Brian or I are currently employed. That adds more questions to the already muddy picture.

Ultimately, these things will work out, I'm sure. And in the meantime, I am trying to cherish every moment, because the most consistent advice I have received is that time passes too quickly. So tonight I will squeeze my tiny baby tight, and ingrain that feeling into my heart.

The day She arrived

My daughter, Kinnie, was born two weeks ago today. It has been the most amazing, beautiful, emotional two weeks of my life.

Two weeks ago today, I awakened with pain in my back. I had been having contractions on and off through the night. However, a week prior, I had been to the hospital with contractions, which turned out not to be labor. So, because Kinnie was not due for another two weeks, I assumed that this again would be a false alarm. I went to the basement, laid on the couch, and turned on the TV. As the morning progressed, so did my contractions. I did not want to make another unneeded trip to the hospital, so I did everything I had read to slow them. I laid down, I went for a walk, I took a warm bath. All to no avail. By late morning, Brian and I decided to call my doctor's office. They agreed to see me.

By the time we arrived there, my contractions were occurring every 4 minutes or so, and were painful. I was checked by a nurse midwife, who advised that we head to Labor and Delivery to be monitored. When we got there, things started happening fast. I was placed on monitors, had an IV started, and was bombarded with nurses and doctors preparing me for my c-section. It was about the time that they had Brian dress in scrubs that I asked if we were headed to surgery quickly. I was told that, indeed, we were, and that my case had bumped others out of line.

I was wheeled to the operating room, with Brian at my side. When we had our false alarm a week earlier, my whole family arrived within an hour. This day, no one had had a chance to get to the hospital yet. We got to the operating room and I got out of the wheelchair and walked to the operating table. It was cold and sterile, but for the warmth of the staff in the room, who seemed to see this as a beautiful surgery, insomuch as a surgery can be beautiful.

It was the most surreal experience, and yet one of the most vivid memories I have. I sat on the table as I was given a spinal block. I cried a little, not because of the pain, but because everything was happening so fast, and I was scared. My legs quickly went numb, starting at my feet, the numbness working it's way up to my lower ribs. The nurses and doctors laid me down. My arms, which I could still feel and control, were laid out on either side of me, and a drape was placed across my chest so that I could not see anything below my arms.

My doctor and others gathered around me, and I could feel the prodding and pushing on my abdomen as they prepared to make my incision. The sensation was indescribable. I felt no pain. But I felt that there was a lot going on behind the drape.

My mom arrived just before they began the surgery, and was allowed in the operating room with us. I was so grateful that she and Brian were right next to me.

Things were relatively quiet as the surgery began. Within a few minutes, though, Kinnie was pulled from my belly. The anesthesiologist pulled down the drape to let me see her, just for a moment. Then she was taken aside, and Brian and my mom went with her. She was cleaned up and checked out, while my doctor began to sew me up. Kinnie was talkative as they worked on her, but didn't cry.

The moment that is most clear is when they brought her to me, and laid her on my chest. I was still in the middle of surgery, and couldn't hold her. But her cheek was against mine, her heart next to mine. Tears welled up as I felt something new, and something I could not have imagined. She was so soft. She was here, and safe, and healthy. The hardest part was over.

Kinnie was taken to the recovery room while I remained in the operating room for another 15 minutes. I joined her then, along with Brian and my mom. We were all in awe of this little being. She weight 6 pounds 13 ounces, and was 19 inches long. She had long hair, that was a medium brown color. She had adorable rosebud lips, big cheeks, and a button nose.

The rest of the day was spent with family visiting, meeting Kinnie. I was so grateful that on her first day of life, she was held by so many people who adore and love her. We didn't sleep until 2 in the morning, not because Kinnie kept us awake, but because of the emotions we were riding.

It was the best day of my life.