No Really.

Press. Friggin. Pause.

I started blogging 2 years ago last week -(and I've done a pretty crappy job at keeping it up)- but that's beside the point. The point is that I started it just a week before Neisan turned a year old. And he will be 3 tomorrow. THREE!! How did this happen?! 

I read back over my post the night before his first birthday. I thought I loved him so much then - that the love I felt for him couldn't get any stronger or better. It did. This year, these past few months in particular, have given me a whole new perspective into the person Neisan is. The first year of his life I was enamored with every little move he made. I spent so much time relishing in the baby-ness of him. Don't get me wrong, it was absolutely 100% true love from the moment our eyes met - but I still love him even more today. While that first year was so amazing watching all his "firsts", this past year has been about watching him become a real person. And he is a solid human being! He teaches me something new every day, whether it be that I need to watch my mouth ("mama - is F*#$ a nice word?), that I need to check my patience ("mama - don't yell! It's not my favorite!"), or that life is supposed to be fun. Always. He has figured out action figures and super heroes, which means that every minute at my house is an action sequence. He loves music. We spend a lot of our time singing and playing the piano and guitars. We sing everything from "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" to anything and everything by DJ Leslie Hall. He is funny. And I mean really, truly funny, not in that weird kid I think I'm funny sort of way.  He is sweet. Really. Really. Sweet. He stops in the middle of a sword fight to hug me and tell me I'm his "best girl ever". He tells Matilda every day that she is gorgeous and that he loves her. When we go to bed at night we have to talk about what he's going to have sweet dreams about - and sometimes they will make me cry! Tonight? He was going to have sweet dreams about his cousin Ian because he broke his arm - he would dream that Ian would be all better and be able to come and swing on his swing set with him. "And I will push him mama, because his arm might still hurt a little bit". I mean really? Melts my heart. He's starting to ask questions. Like real, legitimate questions. He is so so smart and so curious about the world. What sound does a brontosaurus make? Why are the stars so shiny? Why is the dirt brown? The grass green? The sky blue? I have watched his emotions go from completely oblivious to the fact that other people are watching him, to being so beyond embarrassed in front of a crowd that he cries. I remember going through the stage where he thought a kiss could heal anything. Now when he is hurting, he asks for a kiss, then follows it with telling me that it isn't better, but that he trusts me that it will be. 

I started thinking - if I love him so much more now than I did then, how will I feel in a month? A year? 10 years? It blows my mind to think that I could possibly love this little man even an ounce more. But I know I will. Tomorrow when he wakes up, he will be 3. Even though he doesn't want to be 3, because "that means I'm big, and I want to stay little". In a very short year I will be writing about him turning 4. I read a quote recently that said something about not being able to get this day back with our children, that they will never be this little ever again, and that we should take the time to notice every tiny thing about them today. I did that today especially. I noticed his beautiful copper hair. His blue, almond shaped eyes. His red eyelashes. The tiny freckle that sits right on the tip of his nose. I got sad thinking that this is the last day that he will be two years old. Then I started thinking back to what we've gone through so far, and I remembered that it's only going to get better. So here's to taking a moment to press pause every day this year - because he will only be 3 for a short time. And I will never get these days back with him.

I love you so much Neisan Kristopher. I love you with every ounce of my being, every space in my heart and soul. Thinking about you makes my heart break and sing all at once. You made me a mommy for the first time - I'm so sorry if I screw you up! Look at it this way - all the stuff I'm messing up now is only helping me do a better job with your sister. Thanks for that :)

In Less Than an Hour...

I will be 29 years old. I will start a new year in my life. My last year as a 20-something. And I hope this year is... different... from 28.

A year ago, on my 28th birthday, I was relishing in the fact that I was newly pregnant. I had just finished another IVF cycle, and I was sicker than a dog at 5 weeks pregnant. Little did I know that day that the 28th year of my life would be such a whirlwind. We moved into a new house, celebrated Neisan's 2nd birthday (which means we will be celebrating his 3rd very soon - what?!), spent Christmas wondering if my step dad would make it out of his stroke, and a few months later his bypass surgery. We put our house on the market, I closed my business, and we welcomed a beautiful baby girl into the world. I went back to school. I lost some friends and gained some new ones. I lost a few that I got back. I learned SO MUCH about myself in my 28th year of life. 

Now that I am a mom, I think about my birthday so differently. It should really be a day for my mom to celebrate. I mean the day my kids were born are the two most memorable days of my life, and the two most precious. I looked at my brand new babies with wonder on their birthday's. I imagined what they would do in their lives and what kind of people they would become. I know now that my mom must have wondered those same things - and I hope she is proud. I know she will read this, because she is my biggest fan :) - So - happy birthday to my mom. You brought me into the world 29 years ago today. Thanks for that :) I hope that I have made you proud. I hope that I have lived up to the hopes and dreams you had for me, and that I will be able to for many more years. I hope that I make you happy. You are more important to me than I will ever be able to tell you. I love you so much - so happy birthday... or giving-birth-day!

So here's to year 29! I started this post before midnight, but had a sweet, very pee soaked little girl wake up to eat and get her clothes and diaper changed. Then she decided to crap her pants. So it's officially my birthday - and I rang it in changing a poopy diaper. And I wouldn't wish to have it any other way. Okay, maybe I'd like to have a bottle of wine, a hot bath and a massage/serenade by a beautiful, guitar playing, semi tattooed man... but the poopy diaper was okay too. 

"Back to School, Back to School...

to prove to Dad that I'm not a fool..."

Yep - I'm a student again. And it is SO different this time around! 

When I started college in 2002 (what?!) as an 18 year-old know-it-all freshman, college was just something I did because I was "supposed" to. I was supposed to go and study, get good grades, gain life experience. Other than a few new friends, a slight beer belly and my coveted college cheerleading uniform, life experience was really the only thing on that list that I gained - and even most of that was in a fraternity party beer haze. 

I did the college thing for a few years before I decided that I HATED IT. My family and I opened Hemline in 2004, which meant no more school for me! I was living the life that I thought I wanted. Fashion. Not having a boss to answer to. Working every day with my sisters-in-law.

Slowly the dynamic of owning a business changed, co-workers came and went, and the luster began to wear off. When we closed the doors in June, I knew that week - that day even - that I wanted to go back to school. Not even that I wanted to. That I NEEDED to. Owning a business is hard for everyone involved. You never know if you are going to make it or not. Your income is never permanent, and your job can be swept up with the latest fashion faux-pas. It's tiring, stressful, and while brilliant at times, it could suck the life right out of you at others. I wanted a career that I knew there would always be a need for. I wanted to do something that made me feel good. Something that made me feel like the time spent doing it was worthwhile.

While lying in a hospital bed staring into the eyes of my newborn baby girl, I started to think of all the possibilities I had. Crazy thing babies do to you - they make you happy or something. I mean I had just had my uterus cut open and birthed a human freaking being - the possibilities seemed endless, honestly. And in she came - my nurse, Katy. 

All my mama friends know that the days after giving birth are not the most fun. You're getting your vagina checked out around the clock, the nurses come by and punch you in your abdomen every hour to make sure your uterus is shrinking, and lactation consultants are man handling your boobs while smooshing them into your fragile babies mouth with such force that you want to give her a purple-nurple. Lucky for me though, I had Katy. She was AMAZING. With all the awkward things we go through to have babes, Katy made them seem somehow manageable. She got me everything I needed, brought me good lunch when she thought mine looked like crap, kicked visitors out of my room so I could nurse when I was too afraid to say anything, and helped me take a shower when I couldn't hardly feel my legs. She made me feel so comfortable in such an uncomfortable situation. That's when I decided what I wanted to do. I wanted to be Katy.

I started thinking about all the women in the same position as me- lying there, completely overwhelmed with a new life to care for, wondering how you just got through the amazing massacre that is childbirth, feeling like you just got hit by a large truck. I wanted to help them all. And if I were a nurse, I could help them all. I could have skills that would always be needed. A  job that is good for life. I could leave work when I was done, and actually leave it because I don't own it. I could feel fulfilled by helping other women feel like Katy made me feel.

I started school (again) on August 20, 2012. This time it's a whole new ball game. In 2002 I would cram for a test an hour before class, freak out because I didn't know a thing on it, then get over it super fast because I was free to socialize. "Oh I got a C on the last test? Woo-hoo, I passed!" Now? I am like a studying machine. I look forward to learning about new things. I get excited about taking tests to see how many new things I know. I participate in class discussion. I am an super nerd. And I LOVE it. If I don't pass every little quiz, exam, homework assignment, etc with an 'A' I am not a happy camper. I want to be the best at what I do. It's challenging. It's stressful. It's motivating. It's amazing. I look at all the young whipper-snappers (who, by the way, look a hot mess every day - can you PLEASE put on real clothes and wash your hair before class?) and I feel so wise! I know I'm not an old woman yet, but I just feel like I have grown and changed so much since I was 18. I've gotten married, owned a business, gained 27 nieces and nephews (not quite), had 2 babies, traveled... so I guess I am a lot more wise this time around. I know I have a lot more schooling ahead of me, but I am enjoying the ride already. In a few years I will be a nurse. In a few more hopefully a nurse practitioner. A few (lot) more after that maybe a reproductive endocrinologist. Who knows where it will take me.

I can't wait to find out. 

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch Changes

"Turn and face the strain"

Bowie said it. Things are a-changin' in my little world, too.

When I started this blog, I wanted to do it to write about things that mattered to me. I wanted to have a place that I could come to and spew the words and thoughts that took up so much room in my brain. Word vomit if you will. I was happy when I was writing. It made me feel good to know I was helping people through infertility, uplifting someones spirits by being blatantly honest about depression and anxiety. I felt my head clear as I was writing, all of my thoughts and fears traveling out of my head and into my fingers on the keys. I felt vulnerable. I needed to feel all of those things. And I still do. So right now I am pledging to get back in to blogging. *puts hand over heart*

Since I last blogged, a lot of things have happened! I closed my business after almost 8 years. I enrolled in nursing school. I birthed a human being. You know, the usual. 

I'll start with closing my business... This is a hard one to talk about. Hemline is all I have known my entire adult life. With the help of my family and a few amazing friends, Hemline was it's own little fashion empire. We would have celebrated 8 years this September, and in those 8 years I learned a lot. But - it was time to call it quits. I am not "boss" material. I hate being in charge of people. I hate telling people what to do and I really suck at communicating in general, so it just really wasn't my roll. I hated knowing that other people depended on me for their jobs to take care of themselves and their families. I hated that if someone left the back door unlocked that I had to drive my happy ass down there in the middle of the night and lock it up. I could go on and on about what I hated about it - but there are so many things I loved, too. I loved being surrounded in art all day, every day. I loved that people left my store feeling like they had a treasure that made them feel like a goddess. I loved being there with my best friends. I loved that the most.

After my step dad had his stroke this past December, things really shifted in our family. My anxiety was already high due to being pregnant (damn hormones) and with the stress of the unknown about how Raj (my step dad) and his recovery, I just couldn't devote what I needed to to Hemline anymore. I had to reevaluate what I wanted, and for the first time in a long time I actually thought about what I really wanted to do. I started Hemline when I was 20 years old. I never had a chance to do anything else, and I was ready for a change. We closed the doors June 11, 2012. By July 12, 2012, I enrolled in nursing school! Hopefully in a few short years I will be working in either labor and delivery or mom and baby care. Who knows - maybe I'll go all the way through med school and work in reproductive endocrinology - that's where my heart really is, just not sure the brains are there...

So I closed a door in my life, I opened a new one, and birthed a human. Can't forget that one. She is the most perfect human to ever be born I might add. Matilda Emaline Kennedy was born on June 4, 2012. She was 7 lbs 4 oz, 17 1/4 in long. She's a shorty! She will be 8 weeks old tomorrow - I can't believe how fast it's going. I also can't believe how different baby #2 is. Adjusting from 0 kids to 1 was WAY harder than 1 to 2 if you ask me. 

I've got this parenting thing whipped. riiighhhhttt....

 But in all seriousness, having 2 kids is definitely more work, but we somehow just fell into a routine right from the beginning, and it's been a pretty smooth ride! Don't get me wrong, we've had some rough moments - like Neisan wanting to go to the bathroom by himself, not getting his pants undone in time and crapping in them, all the while Matilda is in my arms sleeping and explodes out of her diaper all over the both of us. That was a fun mess. Matilda is such a good baby though. She eats like a pig, and is still up 2 or 3 times a night to eat so we aren't getting a ton of sleep, but she is so easy going and mellow most of the time. She loves Neisan and can't look at him without a full blown open mouth smile, and he can't walk by her without patting her on the head and telling her she's gorgeous or talking to her so closely that her eyes could be permanently crossed. I am still in awe of the fact that I have 2 kids. I feel so blessed and so happy when I look at them. Then I feel bat shit crazy. Why do people have kids?? This shit is hard! It's beyond hard. Nothing worth doing is easy though, right? It's all worth it in the end.

Changes. They are all around me. They may not be what I wanted, but they are changing nonetheless. I can either decide to run away and hide in my little anxiety ridden mind, or I can do as the wise David Bowie said and "face the strain". I'm choosing the latter. Oh and I pledge to blog about it along the way. 

Loving Two

Wow - so it's been like 5 months since I last blogged. My life has been crazy, and a lot has changed during these past few months. My pregnancy is still going well, I can't complain! I've been to labor and delivery a few times for contractions, but am on muscle relaxers now and they help keep things calm. Really calm. Like can't move my arms calm. Thankfully I only have to take them before bed now! 

Baby Tilly is doing so well! I had an ultrasound on Monday to check her growth - she is perfect! She's itty bitty except for her head. Thanks, Geno. Neisan had that same big head which resulted in an emergency c section. We are going to go ahead and schedule the c section of this little one now so I don't have to be rushed into surgery after laboring for 16 hours.

Neisan is doing so well too! He is growing so much and talking up a storm. It's so strange to have a full on conversation with a tiny person. He comes up with things that amaze me. The latest? He was playing with a camera he got for his birthday (thanks Tim and Jodi!) and he held it up and said "Mama! Say Pussy!" Wait. WHAT?! Now I am the first to admit that my mouth is not the cleanest. But I happen to HATE the "P" word, so I know he didn't hear it from me. I asked him to repeat it to make sure I didn't mistake cheese for the other word, and sure enough, "Say Pussy!". After almost internally combusting from holding in the laughter that had built up inside, I asked him where he heard that word. His favorite song is "Pussycat, Pussycat I Love You". He was just "saying my favorite song Mama". 

He has been potty trained for a good few months now, and he has done so well with it. I couldn't have had an easier time with it actually! He was good and ready. And he looks ridiculously cute in his boxer briefs and Batman tighty whities. Which, by the way, is his new favorite thing to wear. Underwear and boots. Nothing else.

That little boy is my entire world. He is so freaking amazing! I ask myself every day how in the hell am I going to have this much love for someone else? Is it possible? The closer my due date gets (9 weeks!!) the harder it's starting to hit me that Neisan will have to share my love. It's heart breaking. I'm so afraid he won't understand. As I was sitting in my hormonal state watching him sleep and bawling like a baby at this prospect, I remembered a poem I came across before I was even pregnant with Matilda. I googled it and found it again. It sums up my feelings 100%. Warning: It's a tear jerker!

Loving Two

I walk along holding your 2-year-old hand, basking in the glow of our magical relationship. Suddenly I feel a kick from within, as if to remind me that our time alone is limited. And I wonder: how could I ever love another child as I love you?

Then she is born, and I watch you. I watch the pain you feel at having to share me as you’ve never shared me before.

I hear you telling me in your own way, “Please love only me”. And I hear myself telling you in mine, “I can’t”, knowing, in fact, that I never can again.

You cry. I cry with you. I almost see our new baby as an intruder on the precious relationship we once shared. A relationship we can never quite have again.

But then, barely noticing, I find myself attached to that new being, and feeling almost guilty. I’m afraid to let you see me enjoying her, as though I am betraying you.

But then I notice your resentment change, first to curiosity, then to protectiveness, finally to genuine affection.

More days pass, and we are settling into a new routine. The memory of days with just the two of us is fading fast.

But something else is replacing those wonderful times we shared, just we two. There are new times – only now, we are three. I watch the love between you grow, the way you look at each other, touch each other.

I watch how she adores you – as I have for so long. I see how excited you are by each of her new accomplishments. And I begin to realize that I haven’t taken something from you, I’ve given something to you. I notice that I am no longer afraid to share my love openly with both of you.

I find that my love for each of you is as different as you are, but equally strong. And my question is finally answered, to my amazement. Yes, I can love another child as much as I love you – only differently.

And although I realize that you may have to share my time, I now know you’ll never share my love. There’s enough of that for both of you – you each have your own supply.

I love you – both. And I thank you both for blessing my life.
Author Unknown