The Mommies' Diaries…Parenting, One Blog at a Time.

I’m sitting in my hotel room in San Diego with my little family. We’ve had such a great week of exploring all the fun that beautiful San Diego has to offer. Of course, my husband and I want to come here every Spring Break with PJ and our “future” children. It’s hard to start making plans when I’m not sure when I will be able to get pregnant. I don’t want to live constantly trying to figure out when that will be, and yet, I want to know!

It’s funny how little conversations can be encouraging without even knowing it at the time. We were able to meet some friends and our neighbors in the Bay Area down at Sea World yesterday as they were taking advantage of their Spring Break as well. I was in line for a water ride and my friend and I were talking about the age differences between us and our siblings. I’m 6 years older than my sister and 11 years older than my brother. My friend is 13 years older than her sister. Weirdly, it encouraged me to know that there are people out there, just not me, who have years and years between their siblings. Would I want PJ to be 13 years older than her brother or sister? Probably not, but if that’s how it happens, then that is okay.

I think us Moms get caught up in trying to have our children 2-3 years a part. For some reason, it feels like the “magic number” and I must admit I’ve panicked some knowing that PJ will probably be older than 3 years from her siblings. I can’t have the perfect plan when trying to plan out my family. Each family and each situation is unique and I have to be okay with my family not fitting into the mold I always thought it would. Does it scare me not knowing if we come back to San Diego next year that I might have a baby or not? Sure. Am I going to just stop enjoying the family I’ve been given now? Absolutely not.

You’re trapped! You can’t imagine getting out of that dark place of despair and desperation. The walls are closing in. To make matters worse, people are telling you “Congratulations, you must be so happy!”  Your guilt for feeling the exact opposite silences your screams and so you just nod and say thank you. What else are you supposed to do? How can you say what you really feel?

This is what I experienced after the birth of my first child. When my son was about two weeks old, I started having intense feelings of depression and anxiety. I thought my life was over and couldn’t believe what I just done. I ruined my life. A lot of my feelings were unfairly directed at my husband. I took my anxiety, and anger out on him. I couldn’t be with him. Feeling that I had to escape my “life”, I fled my house. I took my son and moved in with my mom. I would lie awake all night with my heart pounding, my body sweating. It felt like time was standing still. The clock seemed frozen, just like me. I was in utter despair. Each minute was torture. I didn’t want to do any of the things normal people do. Taking a shower was a big deal. I took care of my son because I had to not because I wanted to. I had no maternal connection to my son, for he was the one who had gotten me into this mess.

This wasn’t my first exposure to mental illness. My identical twin sister had severe postpartum depression and anxiety after her daughter was born. Years before that my mother went through a very debilitating mental illness after my father was diagnosed with colon cancer. Even though I was witness to my mother and sisters recoveries, I truly felt my situation was different and I would never get out this. When you are in it, it doesn’t matter how many times people tell you “things will get better”.  You know, or so you think you do, the truth, “Life sucks and I am trapped.”

I remember my Mom going to her morning tennis match and thinking, “Mom, what the f*** are you doing? How can you go about your normal business? I am in crisis here.  How can you just go on as if nothing is wrong when everything is wrong?” In hindsight, my mom was just following advice she received on caring for a loved one with PPD. She was taking care of herself.

One day she made me go with her to Trader Joes. I had a huge panic attack and freaked out. I saw all these people in their daily routine and wanted to scream at the top of my lungs – STOP! Everyone stop what they are doing. Don’t you get it?

On my road to recovery, one of the first things I did, with my mother’s help, was contact a psychiatrist. Not only was professional help crucial but the support of my friends and family was invaluable. I had the benefit of two people, my mom and sister, who loved me dearly and who knew first-hand what I was going through. I also had the benefit of a very loving, supportive, and forgiving husband; otherwise I don’t know if my marriage would have survived. I had girlfriends that I could really talk to – to whom I could tell my deepest, darkest secrets.

My message to you is this – Don’t be silent. Ask for and accept help. Don’t be shy about telling people your story – don’t let fear or guilt stand in the way. While you have to do work to get better, you can’t “do” your life alone. Surround yourself with people in your life who will push you to take that shower, go to the gym, and take a walk outside, even if you hate them for it in the moment.

My family pushed me to do the things I needed to do to get better. For example, exercise has always been important in keeping me grounded. During this time, my family insisted I go to the gym each day. I remember the feeling of resistance I had. Simple things were just too much for me. But there was a glimmer of a feeling, deep inside myself, that I needed to go.

In addition to professional help and an invaluable support system, medication was part of my recovery. Yes, the “M” word. Not only is there the stigma, but also the concern, of taking medication. Does it mean I can’t breastfeed? If I don’t breastfeed, am I bad mother? With the support of my family and the advice of my doctor, I chose to breastfeed while on the medication. Not only that but I continued taking it through my second pregnancy. Deep down it was the necessary choice for me. I feel fortunate that my body responded well to the medication.

I would say it was a full year of recovery. The silver lining is that after the birth of my second child I remained healthy and was able to experience that first year of life in such a different way. I cherished each moment and lived in pure gratitude.

I will be ever grateful if, by telling my story, I have helped another Mother. I am inspired by the growth in available resources, and the increasing knowledge and acceptance of mental illness associated with postpartum.

A few resources you might find useful are:

Maternal Outreach Mood Services at El Camino Hospital

SVPPD – an email group for those affected by a postpartum mood disorder

http://www.jennyslight.org/

And remember, speak out!

Stacey Holmes grew up on the peninsula and lives in San Carlos with her husband and two children. A year ago she started a parenting newsletter for her son’s school and is enjoying writing about her Mommy experiences. She finds writing cathartic. Currently a stay-at-home mom she knows her work “outside the home” is by no means done. She believes in the power of mantras and the importance of breathing.

I can complain about my mounting pile of to-dos and in the same breath proclaim that I actually like to be busy. I like feeling useful. I like ticking things off my list. Done. Done. Done. But sometimes I’m just plain overwhelmed. I sit and stare at my computer screen without knowing where to start. I curse myself for taking on too much, for saying “yes, sure, no problem, I’ll take care of it.”

I’m overwhelmed this week. My to-do list is long. I’ve been talking about motherhood, thinking about motherhood, working on sharing motherhood, writing about motherhood, fretting over my motherhood choices. I’ve been planning school events, reading emails, writing emails, renewing car registration online, monitoring field status and cancelled practices, rescheduling rained out soccer games, frantically racing to the mall in search of white tights with no embellishments for uniform check day that somehow slipped my mind.

Last night I was forced to simply stop and sit still for 45 minutes.

My son made his debut as the blue shark in the South H Elementary production of Oceans of Fun.

I was forced to stop organizing motherhood and actually live motherhood. And it was marvelous.

While we are waiting…we will serve others.

What kind of family do we want to be? What kind of virtues are important corner stones of our family life? How can we put into action: our desire to love those without able parents? to serve the needy? and just plain give back here in our community?

I want our future child to know that we want to be a family that serves together.  So, while we wait for him/her to join our family, we already can do things to help children in the foster system, to benefit kids in orphanages worldwide or to just care enough to to meet a local need.

I know that not all people will run out and sign up for fostering or adopting.  I do not even believe that everyone reading here should bring a child into their home. However, I do think that there is something that everyone can do to help a child (orphan) in need.  I do think that there are things in each of our own “backyards” if we are willing to open our eyes and our hearts, our time and our pocketbooks to serving.  It is not enough to say “I care”, I think that true compassion leads us to action, which leads to positive changes.

“I am only one; but still I am one. I cannot do everything; but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.” Edward Everett Hale

Last weekend, our family spent some time with some dear friends working at a local continuation school, planting flowers and writing letters to teachers just to thank them. Without. Expecting. Anything. In. Return. Isn’t that what true service is? Isn’t that the heart behind parenting? And, adoption as well?

If you are interested here are some things you can do to serve, care and make a difference pick one of these following ideas and get started TODAY!

1. Start with the people that you know. Mentor a young mother.  Bring a meal to new parents.  Host a shower for foster parents. Just ask your neighbors how you can serve them and do it as a family.

2. Start within your community.  Is there a park that needs clean up? Is there an elderly care center?  (Big tip: let your kids wear their crazy dress up clothes and pick the flowers they are always trying to anyhow, then bring them and their big smiles to visit those in a retirement home. Sure to bring a smile.)

3. Specifically, with a heart for the fatherless: become a CASA worker!  Court Appointed Special Advocates partners caring adults with children who have come under the court’s protection because their parents can’t or won’t take care of them. I found a full description of this (which is seriously awesome) and also a ton of local organizations to work alongside  with at:

http://www.volunteerinfo.org/category/peninsula/san-mateo-county

4. Specifically, with a heart for people with developmental delays, become a respite care provider with Parca! Or, become a licensed respite care provider for foster parents.

http://parca.org/

5. Specifically, with a heart for women facing unplanned pregnancies, host a “shower of support” for a teen mom!

An organization to partner with may be: www.firstresort.org

6. Give financially! Many families I know want to adopt but balk at the costs.  Give generously and joyfully, if you can and if you can’t, then host a garage sale or get creative.

7. Look abroad.  We have a big world full of little lives that want to be loved, fed and remembered.  Make it a family priority to support organizations like the fun TOMS shoes that give a pair to a shoeless child abroad for each pair sold here.  Every year at Christmas I get some of my cousins chickens, ducks and a share of a goat…no, they don’t receive these at their condos here on the peninsula, but a child in Uganda does!

One of the things that has been the hardest for me in our journey to adopt, is the fact that every adoption stems from a situation of loss, sadness and hurt.  It is almost paralyzing.  Most people have loving hearts that truly do want to make a difference, it just takes one step of action that can lead to a positive change in the life of another.

Tomorrow will mark exactly two weeks since Sweet Baby Z was born.  In many ways, life feels completely different – foreign in ways I hadn’t anticipated.  In other ways, our life has seemingly gone on without skipping a beat, as if this was how we always existed…as a family of four.

Last week, when I posted my very short entry announcing Z’s birth, I mentioned that this week I’d be blogging about this very moment:

Z’s birth story is beautiful in it’s own right.  It tells of an unbreakable bond between mother and child – a symbiotic relationship demonstrating trust, partnership and concern.

The short of the long is that I needed to be induced at 37 weeks due to increasing signs of preeclampsia (pregnancy induced hypertension).  In a nutshell, while I had intuitively sensed early on that my pregnancy wouldn’t go the duration of 40 weeks, the thought of forcing Z outta the womb didn’t sit well with me.  The remarkable part of this story is that for every mention of medical intervention which left me feeling uneasy, I talked intently with Baby Z about my concerns, and then sat back and watched her take matters into her own decided hands, where she remained one step ahead of the doctors at every bend in the laborious road.  For instance, when my obstetrician wanted to break my water – I talked with Z about my concern in artificially pushing her along, and sure enough, 30 minutes later, my water broke on it’s own.

Our whole journey was chock-full of serendipitous happenstance.  So much so that I actually can’t, won’t, believe that it was ironic or by chance.  I absolutely believe that Z and I share a bond so incredibly deep that we had started our intimate mother/daughter dance while she was still in the womb.  I believe our connection far surpassed her recognizing my voice, or the cadence of my beating heart.  She recognized my thoughts – my fears, my hopes, my wishes….because, she was, in fact, a very piece of me – sharing in all that I am.

My friends and family know that my biggest fear in having another child was how on earth I’d love them both.  I have been so totally in love with my eldest daughter, DJ (now 2 1/2), that I simply couldn’t imagine dividing my heart and attention with another.  I feared that I would secretly consider DJ my favorite for the rest of our lives, and that I would have to exert a ton of energy in actively loving our second daughter.  I was afraid the love wouldn’t come naturally.  I was even scared that I might resent Z for coming in between DJ and me.  Everyone assured me that, until you experience it, you just can’t imagine your heart expanding to envelope both children – but that it absolutely does.  I talked myself into believing this experience wouldn’t escape me, though I honestly doubted it would happen so seamlessly for me.

And then, Z was born and placed on my chest.  I looked at her sweet face and my life changed – instantly.  My heart was unrecognizable from what it had been just seconds before.  Where there was once room for only one, suddenly, there were two and without noticing how it happened – my heart grew exponentially.  The heights and depths of it’s capacity pushed limits to the point of literally aching.  My chest ached, my arms ached – and that ache could not be squelched until I had both of my girls, together, in my embrace.

With DJ, I was instantly in awe of the overpowering feeling of unconditional love that washed over me the second I felt her warm skin.  I was taken aback by just how much I had to have her.  I had to be touching her, loving her, caressing her, protecting her – every second of every day.  She was my baby, my first child, and that alone qualified her as my favorite thing on earth.  Over these past 2 1/2 years, as her personality has grown, we have gotten even closer.  I appreciate her now for the person that she is, not just because she is. My love for her in those first few moments after birth is what has bonded us together – for our lifetime.  And it just keeps getting bigger, better, stronger.

With Z, while I absolutely experienced that same unexplainable love, I also looked into her eyes and saw so much of myself.  It was literally like looking at a piece of me.  In those first quick moments that seemed to last a lifetime, I was struck by the miracle of creation.  Baby Z is a part of me.  She and I had been in agreement about her birth story, and she had made herself known to me early on.  I feel like our conversation, our relationship, showed it’s strength long before our eyes ever met. My words here aren’t doing the feeling justice.

I am so grateful for the ways each of my girl’s birth stories differ.  I am so thankful that while the love is universal, the connections are unique.  This allows me to love both of my daughters with equal intensity and loyalty, but for different reasons.  They are both so special – and yet, so different already.  My heart is full, and that happened organically, without dispute or coaching.  It just happened.

I am currently overwhelmed by how blessed I am feeling.  My husband and I have all that we could ever want, and truly believe our family is complete.  Z was the missing piece that we didn’t even know was missing.  To think that our life is even more full than it already was just 2 weeks ago makes me feel like the luckiest woman in the world.  We are humbled by the gifts with which we’ve been entrusted.

….Now, tune in next week as I’ll likely talk about the epic tantrums DJ has been having as we adjust to this wonderful miracle!  Trust me, I am not trying to paint a false picture of our happiness.  While we are indeed overjoyed, it hasn’t been flawless by any means……and yes, I am totally and completely exhausted, unshowered and wearing clothes with dried spit-up on them.

I am not sure what I was thinking when I decided to schedule every single possible appointment on the face of the earth for March.  I was probably pregnant and not noticing how full the schedule was getting.    As I hit the end of the month I want to beg for mercy and just crawl in bed and take a nap.

One of the side aspects of having a child/children with special needs is the “team”.  As a parent, we think of ourselves as “team leaders”.  It is my job to make sure that the OT is aware of what the PT is doing.  I have to make sure that the IEP team is aware of what outside services are going on.   Genetics needs to know about the findings at ENT.  You get the idea. Having a team is awesome because it means that I am not alone in trying to figure out what my child needs and what is the next priority to be working on.  The downside is that we have to check in with the team periodically and for me this year it was March.  We did eye exams, ENT visits, dentist visits, got tubes put in ears, had three IEP meetings, had a yearly meeting with County Mental Health, had our goal setting meeting with the behavior therapy folks, sleep clinic visit for a sleep study, neuro stuff and the middle school play to top it all off.  I should have given up my sanity for Lent, since it seems that I did that anyway.

Beyond the scheduling issues, I have felt very impressed this month to be thankful for the many folks who help us keep this family unit rolling along.  I find myself fixating lately on some of the issues with my kids that normally would have rolled off my back.  I’m sure it is the lack of sleep and the fact that we just moved, but this mom is being a little too emotional. For me, emotional means I become pessimistic.  Yesterday at church, I had a quiet moment to reflect on the tremendous progress that the kids have made.  While it is true that I feel like I will have to put a fork in my eye if I hear the words “snack, mom, snack” come from Ace one more time–I am also aware that it means she is able to connect language with action and is able to ask me for things (not that anyone else could identify what she is saying….).  And while I feel like I might go insane after the second hour of listening to Cubby drumming on the window with his brand new drum sticks (my husband thought those would be the PERFECT Disneyland souvenir), he is using his imagination and doing abstract play and able to entertain himself.  That is huge progress for this kid.  Tiny is getting less tiny.  She has a voracious appetite.  She also NEVER STOPS TALKING.   For a child that we had to force feed till the age of three and that we though might never really interact with people, it is nothing short of miraculous.   Even the midnight feedings are a blessing in disguise since they give me a chance to have some quiet one on one time with Minnie.     I am still trying to find the upside of laundry and dishes.

One huge development that we managed this week is that we are cutting back behavior therapy services for Cubby, along with mental health services in school.   What that means in layman’s terms is that he is able to manage his behavior at school in church a way that he doesn’t need extra coaching.  His teachers and aide can manage it.   In the past, he had difficulty knowing how to react on the playground when kids didn’t want to play with him, or when he was faced with a situation that was unfamiliar to him. His reaction was to get aggressive (punching was usually involved, followed by shame. A terrible cycle).  He also met weekly with a psychologist to help him work out how to manage relationships at school and how to face his fears ABOUT school.   He is able to do all this on his own now and we hope that he can continue to keep these skills in the front of his mind as he navigates big changes coming up at school.   I am so proud of my Cubby boy.   I am so glad that he has a team that is committed to helping him be successful at school.

The last week of March will find me finishing the last of my appointments (Neuro, Orthodontics, one more dentist to go).  I will commit to making a few dinners that don’t involve pasta, trying to look at the bright side of progress and taking more naps.  That sounds about right.

Last night my husband and I went to Darius Rucker/Lady Antebellum concert. We were able to hang out back stage, which was such a cool experience. I love me some country music, it just speaks to the soul.

One of the songs that Darius sang last night has always hit home for me. As a Mother, I can’t believe how fast PJ has grown. I feel like it was weeks ago that we brought her home from the hospital, weeks ago she started walking, weeks ago that she started saying my name. As I’m embarking on a new adventure of TTC #2, I find that I can get pretty caught up in all that it entails that I forget to enjoy my sweet girl.

3 years ago yesterday, I conceived PJ. Most women don’t really know when they conceive, but I have the privilege of knowing when she started being formed.  I don’t take that experience for granted and the song that I had the privilege of listening to live last night, confirmed that each stage of childhood, and each stage of TTC is a journey and I know one day I’m going to look back on this experience and wished I had “savored” it more. TTC can sometimes feel like a job, especially when you know you have a hard time getting pregnant. I’m thankful that last night I was able to put it all into perspective.

For those of you women who don’t have children and long for a baby, let me encourage you. It can feel like each month is the same. Taking your temperature, figuring out when it spikes, call your husband home from work, and taking the exciting yet dreaded pregnancy test. It’s hard, I know.  My hope is that wherever you are in your TTC journey, you would take a minute and enjoy the process.  I know for some women that is next to impossible, but what an exciting time knowing that there is a possibility that you will soon become a Mom. As I have said, every baby is a miracle, but you will know full well what it took you to have your precious baby in your arms. You will look at him/her and you will know how much you sacrificed.

Darius Rucker

It Won’t Be Like This For Long

He didn’t have to wake up
He’d been up all nite
Lay’n there in bed listen’n
To his new born baby cry
He makes a pot of coffee
He splashes water on his face
His wife gives him a kiss and says
Its gonna be OK

It wont be like this for long
One day soon we’ll look back laugh’n
At the week we brought her home
This phase is gonna fly by
So baby just hold on
It wont be like this for long

Four years later bout four thirty
She’s crawling in their bed
And when he drops her off at preschool
She’s clinging to his leg
The teacher peels her off of him
He says what can I do
She says now don’t you worry
This will only last a week or two

It wont be like this for long
One day soon we’ll drop her off
And she wont even know your gone
This phase is gonna fly by
If you can just hold on
It wont be like this for long

One day soon she’ll be a teenager
And at times you’ll think she hates him
Then he’ll walk her down the isle
And he’ll raise her vale
But right now she up and cry’n
And the truth is that he don’t mind
As he kisses her good night
And she says her prayers
He lays down there beside her
Till her eyes are finally closed
And just watch’n her it breaks his heart
Cause he already knows
It wont be like this for long
One day soon that little girl is gonna be
All grown up and gone
Yeah this phase is gonna fly by
He’s try’n to hold on
It wont be like this for long
It wont be like this for long

While we are waiting…we will date our children.

I’m starting a new series about the things that fill our minds and our moments as we prepare to open our hearts and home to our future child. Each day I think about him/ her and wonder if he/she has even been born yet, or is healthy, or is safe… I wonder and I wait and wait and wait.

We are at the point where there is nothing left to do, but to wait for a phone call. Days…Weeks…Months…

Each holiday that passes – even the silly little ones like St. Patty’s Day – leave me wondering if next year I’ll be buying some little green socks for some little person who calls this place home.

So, while we are waiting, we will cultivate the relationships that we have.  We will enjoy the extra time that we have with Brother Bear and Sister Bear and we will take the time to “deposit” into those relationships.  Some days are very trying and full of constant push-back.  It seems like most of the words that come of mouth are corrections (Don’t run in the house! How many times have I asked you to put on your shoes? No, you may not eat that now! Please don’t “swim” in that mud puddle…do you do the wash?…for real, that exact phrase came out of my mouth last week!)  I know that discipline and gentle correction are an inevitable part of parenting, but some days  weeks feel so off balance!  Those “withdrawals” can really start to wear on our relationship and that’s when I know it is time to schedule a date with my child.

When your family grows, (whether though adoption or childbirth…or to make it even broader, through a grandparent having to move in)   there are certain “withdrawals” that happen in the existing family relationships.  Maybe the normal bedtime routine is altered while mommy is feeding baby, maybe dad misses a baseball game while he takes that child for an appointment.

There will be adjustments all around, so as we prepare for our family dynamics to change, we want to make sure that we have regular set-aside time just to “date” our children and check in on them.  I want to be able to sit across from my son while we eat ice cream and draw out the entire story about the girl who lied to him at recess. I want to encourage him, let him know I am listening with both ears (you know?!), and intentionally use my words to build him up.  I want to sit next to my girl while we get our toes painted, listen intently and laugh with her as she tells made up jokes (like: “Why do zebras cross the road? …Chicken Noodle!…in her mind it must make sense ) I want to purposely point out how I see and appreciate her creativity and joy.

It will be important for us to have one-on-one time with our future child, as well, so that we can even continue to dialogue about his/her feelings about being in a new home, having new siblings, and growing up with whatever story brought him/her to us.  But, for now, I can only dream of those moments and what that future child will want to do on his/her special date days!

Here are the Date Wheels I made with my little muffins earlier this year.

I picked three things that I love to enjoy with them and they each picked three of their own.  (I was quite surprised by Sister’s plan to “play football at a park” with me!) We always say that these dates are not about getting something, but rather they are about time building up the most important relationships!  (Daddy does his own special traditions with each of the kids and it usually involves sweets, starbucks or shoe shopping! He also has a bit of an “agenda” to show our daughter how a man should treat a “woman”…opening doors and what not.  And his “agenda” with our boy is to teach him ways to grow in virtues of courage and conviction. I fall in love with Hunnie each time he takes our kids out!)

Sometimes we don’t even need to go out…you know you can have a perfectly good snuggle date! Sometimes we set aside some major snuggle time in the morning (or afternoon) with time to chill in bed and chat and play.  We first play the rhyme game (I start with a word like “chip” and then you go back in forth with “dip”, “slip”, etc until one person cannot think of a new one) Then,  the i- love- you- more- game (you know this one…you think of crazy things like: i love you more than all the little pieces of sand in your dirty lizards’ cage). And then, the plant- a- tree game (where you tell a story as you scratch it out on your kid’s back like this: first, farmer Missy planted a tiny green seed, and every day she watered it…) Starting the day like that instead of “Hurry, Hurry, Hurry” sure feels better! (Can’t wait to teach these things to our future child, too…But, today, I’ll wait.

What are some things you do to spend sweet one-on-one time really listening and intentionally building up the ones you love…especially if you are in a season of waiting for…whatever it may be?

Here’s to some Happy Dating!

~Missy

Meet my son, Gooby. He is 3 years old and, as my first born, is the amazing little person who taught me how to be a mom. And, in case you are wondering, Gooby is not his real name. He earned this nickname when he was a few days old because his colic and reflux, plus his very expressive brow, reminded us of the cartoon character Mr. Magoo. The name eventually morphed into Gooby and stuck. On his recent preschool enrollment forms, I described Gooby as spirited, imaginative, creative, emotional, moody, and expressive. Though what I really wanted to say was, “My son actually thinks he is Spider Man, a Power Ranger, and Luke Skywalker combined. He is borderline obsessed with firemen and construction workers, and I once thought he had developed the hoarding disease due to his relentless pilfering of trash and common household items which can be found stuffed to the brim in his Fisher Price toolbox (which he also pretends is a kitchen).”

Like all first-time moms, when I was pregnant with Gooby I worried whether he would be born healthy, wondered what he would look like, and hoped (and still do!) that he would not be plagued with some of the mental health struggles that exist in both my husband’s and my own family history. Throughout my pregnancy, I often tried to imagine how I would be as a mom and wondered if it would be difficult to accept my child for however he turned out. Though I love my husband and my parents, I had never actually created another human being from scratch, and did not have experience with the extreme physical and emotional investment of being a parent. But the truth is, when Gooby was born, those worries did not hold their weight. Those worries didn’t matter, because I knew the moment I set eyes on my son that I would love this little person with all of my being, and most importantly, without conditions.  Since the day Gooby was born, this is the world in which we have continued to exist inside our family. And it’s awesome. However, I also know that unconditional acceptance of all human beings is not transferrable to the real world.

As parents, I’m sure we have all received the unsolicited piece of “advice” from a random person on the street about our child(ren). We have all received the sideways glance from a stranger in the grocery store judging our style of managing an unexpected toddler meltdown.  We have all felt judged as parents at one time or another. And in turn, we have judged ourselves. Though I am not proud of it, I will admit that I too have judged others, certainly contributing to the perpetual cycle of parental insecurities. Perhaps it is a rite of passage. Or maybe it is a coping mechanism. Regardless, it sucks.

As a mom who works fulltime outside the home, I must entrust the care of my children to others. My husband and I don’t have family that lives near us, so both of my kids attend a phenomenal in-home daycare. Gooby started at daycare when he was 3 months old. Over the years we have relished in our provider’s recounting of Gooby’s life without us while we are at work. We enjoy celebrating Gooby’s successes and we learn from his failures. This means that early on, we had to develop the skill of receiving (and appropriately reconciling) feedback that may differ from our own opinion about our child. And I will say that as a mother, hearing anything short of positive feedback about Gooby has been the most challenging part of all. Because receiving criticism from my daycare provider about my kid, constructive as it may be, is not the same as hearing it from the random stranger on the street, or in the grocery store. This feedback holds more weight. I have to listen. I have to reconcile. I have to learn. I have to accept that not everyone thinks that my kid is as perfect as I think he is. This is the real world, after all.

This past week, my daycare provider talked with my husband about Gooby’s obsession with ninjas, swords, guns, and battles. Turns out, that what we think is innocent boyish play in our house, may not jive so well with other parents whose children attend the daycare. After receiving this feedback, my husband came home to discuss it with me. My instinct was to immediately feel protective of Gooby’s imagination and creativity…and of my own parental ego. Because not only did this feedback put into question Gooby’s utter perfection, it also questioned my parenting skills. I started doubting myself, asking internal questions like, “Have I been a bad mom because I haven’t cared enough that Gooby likes to shoot toy guns? Am I influencing violence in society by allowing him to watch television shows that have some violent themes, like Power Rangers and Spider Man? Am I perpetuating society’s stereotypes of boys vs. girls by not encouraging Gooby to play with more gender neutral toys?” And really, I was embarrassed. So my husband spent some time talking me down from my emotional ledge into the world of logic.

Gooby is not alone at daycare. His actions have influence on other children. And in turn, those children will have influence on him. But man, it is tough not to have complete control over every situation. It is heart wrenching to know that I will not always be able to protect my kid. And as he grows older, I know this will only become bigger in scale and consequence, and ultimately more difficult to manage. So in the end, I realized that I have to respect the rights of other parents to express their opinion about how my child might be influencing their own. And one day I will also need to go to bat for my own children, because that is what parents are programmed to do. Ultimately, I am thankful to have a daycare provider that I consider our parenting partner. I am grateful that I have a daycare provider that I respect, and that I know loves and cares for my children when I cannot be with them. That is all any parent can ask for.

I first want to express how delighted I am to be writing as “The Mommy to Be,” I believe a lot of you readers out there will identify with the trying road that lies ahead.

To give you some background, I am actually a Mommy of a beautiful 2 year old girl, PJ (her initials). After a year of trying to conceive (TTC) I realized that there could be a fertility issue. I went to see a wonderful Dr. here in the Bay Area who started testing me and my husband. After many tests, the results came up inconclusive. I was diagnosed with “unexplained infertility.” As a 28 year old, it was devastating to find out that my body just didn’t know how to get pregnant. My Doctor’s plan of action was to begin with a procedure called “Intrauterine Insemination” (IUI) and on March 23^rd 2009 I was pregnant with my first child. I was fortunate enough to get pregnant on the first try, and yet, I know the pain of wanting a child, going through test after test, and having to go through a procedure that would fulfill that desire. I often call PJ my “miracle baby,” but no matter how you look at it, every baby is a miracle whether you have fertility issues or not, I just had to go through a few extra steps. I feel as this is my lot in life, and a burden that has given me a voice to those who want a child and can’t. Truly, it is a feeling that no one can know until they go through it. I have gone through it. I know how it feels.

I’m not here to write about sperm counts, ovulation and basil body temperatures. I do understand those topics will be a part of my writing sometimes.  However, ultimately I’m here to offer a voice to those who just need to know someone out there has walked and is continuing to walk down the path of infertility.

As I mentioned, PJ is 2 and now all my friends who were pregnant with me in 2009 are now pregnant or have their second child. I too, desire a second child and in the next month I will be TTC. I got chills the other day as I went on the internet to refresh my memory on how to take my temperature and to see if there are any new gadgets that might help me know when I ovulate. Here I am, vulnerable and yet so excited to walk this journey with you.

For myself, I hope to get pregnant on my own and have this blog turn into about life with two babies, but I have a feeling that it won’t be that easy. Tune in every Saturday for my adventures in TTC #2!