Our bedroom has no built-in closets, so her father and I have matching armoirs. A few days ago she marched over to her father’s armoir and threw open both doors. “I know WHY! I know WHERE!” she announced in her stage voice. Then she closed the doors. Again, she threw the doors wide and dramatically said, “I know WHY! I know WHY! I know WHY! I know WHERE!”

Cute, but what does she mean? Then I saw my reflection in her nearly bald little head.

I have a ritual, each Sunday, which is the only time I every have an excuse to wear something other than mom jeans. When I throw wide the armoir doors, I am confronted by a closet full of clothes purchased long before I had a baby. Most were purchased when I still had a J-O-B. Some, I think, were purchased during the Clinton administration.

I glance at all of the too small, out-of-style or matching-nothing-else-I-own clothing. Then I say, “I don’t know why I bother! I have nothing to wear!”

Ah, I know WHY and I have nothing to WEAR!

Everything we do teaches them something. Whether it is a tiny thing, like cutting a peanut butter sandwich the “right” way or something big, someone is watching you! Our kids learn about appreciating their bodies from us. They learn how to handle life’s little ups and downs from us. They probably also learn about keeping your closet cleaned out and getting rid of anything that is no longer valuable, but I don’t want to think too much about that right now!

I really want my daughter to have the self-confidence and poise I have never quite mastered. I want her to see herself as the beautiful girl that she is, even if she keeps takes those adorably chubby thighs to college. If she is going to learn all of that, she will need a role model. Not someone who whines at a closet full of expired clothes. I have so much to teach her, and so much to learn from her. Starting with buying myself some clothes that fit. And some clothes that are as cute as the stuff I buy her.

You would think with only one child underfoot most of the time, I should be able to keep the kid’s name straight. Apparently not so.

James came home from work the other night and we were discussing some recent policy changes his employer, eBay had made. These changes are important to me, since I have been on a PowerSeller on eBay for several years. About that time an email about those eBay changes came into my inbox and I was reading it aloud to him while supervising Eva on her potty. She said she had to go. I am starting to think “Mama, potty!” is code for, “Let me get naked and then you can read books to me for a good long time while I have your almost undivided attention.”

So, she sat down, then stood up. I told her to sit. She sat. Then stood up again. Now, from recent experience I know that she is just as likely to pee on her feet as in the potty, so I encouraged her to sit again. She did for .2 milliseconds. Then she was back up again. And I said:

“eBay! Sit down and go potty!”

As if that was not bad enough, the next day while her cousins were over I managed to call her Georgia, Emma, and Bella within a one hour window.

Can I still blame the short-term memory loss on the four months of fertility drugs (which, by the way, did not work) or do I get to blame in on sleep-deprivation from dealing with a child who can use the potty but still wakes up every two hours all night whenever she is sick or teething (ie, almost all the time)?

It is natural for you to want to share this important event with your husband. It is a symbolic time of becoming a family. For some military parents, and most adoptive and step-parents around the world, that birth time may not happen. When a baby needs an incubator at birth, or mom is sick from a C-section, that time after birth is again taken away.

Moms are often keenly aware of the baby’s presence long before we can feel the first flutters. From the first day you know you are pregnant, you want to do everything you can to protect and care for this baby – and it all feels like it is up to you since you are really the one who does the physical work of pregnancy.

I know it will be really hard if your husband is not able to be there for the birth, but the real bonding of parenting is in the caring for that tiny baby. Adoptive parents and step-parents know they are “real” parents when they are comforting a sick baby or kid at 2 AM. The real parent is the one who is there, doing the parenting. But, even when you are there, bonding doesn’t happen in a splash of light accompanied by angelic choirs, at least for most parents.

Bonding with my daughter was a process. While I was pregnant I really tried to “bond” with her. I did everything I could to protect her, even giving myself insulin shots four times a day to make sure she was safe. But love? That was not really how it felt. I just couldn’t wrap the word love around a face I could not see, a personality I did not know.

When she was born, I was mostly numb those first few days. I was fascinated with her, and ready to do damage to a nurse who threatened to take her and give her a bottle when she was refusing to nurse, but she really didn’t feel like MY baby until she was a few days old.

I had a rough pregnancy after many, many years of infertility. So many times I was afraid I was going to have a miscarriage or that the preterm labor would not stop and she’d come far too early. I was on bedrest a lot and had severe gestational diabetes. Then, when she was born, they took her away immediately and worked on her breathing for about 15 minutes or so. I was terrified and all I could see was her tiny bottom, legs waving in protest as they suctioned her nose and throat. This was NOT the birth bonding I pictured.

Then, once they said she was ok, I got to hold her. But it did not feel real. I had held so many other babies that were not mine. I could not wrap my mind around this tiny baby really being MY daughter. She refused to nurse for the first few days, and the night time nurse was awful – she kept telling me that I was going to give my baby brain damage if I kept refusing formula for her (the DOCTOR said my baby was FINE and did not need anything but the small amount of colostrum she was getting, but the nurse was horrid about it). So, I did not sleep pretty much at all for almost 3 days.

Once we were home, I was worried sick because she was still not nursing consistently and she was really jaundiced and had to have the special lights and daily blood tests. Finally, at 5 days old, she started eating as she should – and I was able to start getting a little sleep.

That sixth day, I remember looking at her tiny little body snuggled up to me. Her sweet little face was so perfect, she looked like a baby doll. Then, that is when I burst into tears and realized that this amazing little girl was mine. She was healthy and she was going to be ok, and she was mine. Thirty-six years of wanting to be a mom more than anything in the world, and I had this baby that was so precious and perfect. That is the moment when I realized just how fiercely I loved this baby.

So, if your husband can’t be there for that one “perfect” moment, I don’t think it is going to change his relationship with your baby. If he acts like a dad, they will bond and everything will be just as it should – no matter when they meet for the first time.

Tonight, all I can think about is that it was almost 6 months ago that my mother was told she probably had 2-3 years left as a best case scenario- unless we found a miracle – and she wasn’t offered much hope for that. Her lungs are turning to scar tissue, one cell at a time, and they don’t know why. If she catches a cold that turns to pnuemonia she “won’t make it out of the hospital.” So, the “best case” is for her to slowly have more and more trouble breathing….

I am not ready to lose her. My baby girl is only 9 months old – one of 18 kids who  are about to lose their grandma. If the doctor is right, and despite my desperate prayers, I believe she is, Eva will only know her grandma through pictures and the few short videos I sneak in when my mom is not paying attention. She won’t remember how her grandma loves her so fiercely.

My mom has been on oxygen since Eva was just a few weeks old. Suddenly power failures feel like a state of emergency while the oxygen concentrator beeps its alarm and we fumble for her backup oxygen tanks. A simple walk from the living room to the kitchen becomes an exercise in patience for her, as she has to disentangle her new 50 foot leash from toys and furniure along the way. I am having to restrain myself from screaming at lowly employees of the medical home care companies that are saving nickles and dimes at the expense of my mother’s safety and comfort.

Like the time they tried to tell her that she would need to start picking up and delivering her own oxygen tanks each month- all 30 of them – so they would not have to drive so far.  The delivery guy backed down when I explained that there was NO WAY my 4′11″ arthritic, oxygen-dependent mother could haul a bunch of metal tanks in and out of the house to save them a few pennies. Anyone strong enough to do that probably doesn’t NEED oxygen. And how it took them almost a week to deliver a new supply of tanks when they promise 24 hour service. Or the way they refuse to carry inexpensive equipment she needs, since Medicare can’t require them to provide what they don’t have.

Two dollar rebreather masks so she can exercise and 50 cent oxygen cord swivels to help prevent cord tangles are not available because Medicare pays them a flat fee whether they offer them or not. These are not things we can pick up at the drug store.

I feel like I am watching her slide off a cliff in slow motion. Day to day we go about our business, quietly panicking when someone coughs too close to her or when another news story runs about local outbreaks of swine flu. We talk about what is happening some, but her fear is real and looms so large that we avoid too much talk of details.

She is struggling to do more, even as the disease steals her breath. Every day it seems that simple things are a bit harder for her. Every day I feel more helpless. I can’t fight this unknown invader. All I can do is try to reduce her stress and be here. I wouldn’t choose to be anyplace else, but I wish I could do something more tangible.

I’m not ready to lose my mom.

I love the Lullaby Exercise program from Chicks-n-Chickens. The set comes with a DVD and a CD, so you can use it anywhere in the house. I use my laptop on a dresser to watch the DVD where I am about to put Eva down for a nap.

You can use a sling, mei tai or just hold your baby in your arms while you sway, stretch and burn off calories. You can lose the baby fat and still have a little me time. The soothing music and gentle lyrics combined with your comforting touch help you dance your little one to sleep. Once they are asleep, you can indulge in a little “me” time with a book, a real meal, a nap or whatever else you need to do. Your baby is asleep, you have gotten in your workout for the day, and you have a few minutes to yourself!

Obviously, you need to check with your doctor before beginning any exercise program.

You can read more about the Lullaby Exercise program at Little for Now.

Good Morning Mama!

Who needs breakfast in bed? I have a blue-green eyed alarm clock that blows kisses when she wakes me each morning. Just now she interrupted her exploration of her toys, the tag in the back of her discarded pajamas and the headboard to squirm over and give me a hug. This is one sweet baby and I am one lucky mama. If you are a mama – be sure to take a moment today to reflect on how lucky you are to be a mama.

This is my first Mother’s Day as a mama. Last year I was pregnant, but had just passed my first trimester and I was still so scared that all the cramping, bleeding and throwing up would hurt my unborn baby. I am still amazed each day to see this active, inquisitive little girl who made me a mom. Being a mom is not easy. We’ve had cold after cold, food allergies that cause tummy aches and even bleeding, sleepless nights, months of fussy teething, biting, pulling hair, and all of the other not-so-fun parts of parenting. Through it all, the sight of her smile reminds me that this adventure is one of the greatest on earth.

The gift of the infertility I struggled with all those years is that it is a constant reminder of how lucky I am to be a mom. Last Sunday, I sat in church next to my own mother, her oxygen tank at her side helping to keep her breathing. In her lap, my little girl happily played with a tiny doll that was once mine. I was reminded again how lucky I am to have my mother still here with us – and how amazing it is to be a mama too.

No matter how your day goes, be sure to take a moment today to reflect on how lucky you are to be a mama. You have the most important job on the planet. You are creating the future with every diaper changed, every fever soothed, every question answered. Your every action will be scrutinized, every statement challenged, every choice second-guessed. You’ll go to bed tired and wake up exhausted. You’ll be lucky to eat an uninterrupted meal. You’ll wonder many days how you can do all that is required of you.

Motherhood is not for the faint of heart, but benefits are unmatched. The job comes with unlimited smiles, as many hugs as you can fit into a day, and the reward of knowing that you hold the future in your heart.

She naps well during the day so far, but I also have a copy of the No Cry Nap Solution. I figure I’ll read that soon since I know she won’t be napping so easily forever.

Pantley also wrote the The No-Cry Potty Training Solution: Gentle Ways to Help Your Child Say Good-Bye to Diapers (Pantley) and the The No-Cry Discipline Solution: Gentle Ways to Encourage Good Behavior Without Whining, Tantrums, and Tears (Pantley). I found both books to be very helpful and realistic. The Discipline Solution is really well done. She addresses discipline problems for kids of several different ages, not just toddlers or just older kids. Pantley is a well-known attachment parenting advocate and her books have been praised by many attachment parenting experts including Dr. Sears.

Real funny mom! The old fleece pants on slick painted wood trick!

She also mastered the art of blindly reaching around her and grabbing whatever soft thing her hand lands on – then stuffing it in her mouth. A good mommy makes sure there is nothing within reach that does not belong in her mouth. A bad mommy laughs when she tries to get the cat’s tail in her mouth (the cat has NO sense of humor!) A good mommy also makes sure the diaper she removes is out of reach of tiny hands (even a bad mommy puts a stop to that one!).

She likes soft things, but won’t hold hard toys for more than a few seconds. My mom thinks that is a self-preservation instinct. Eva vigorously punches herself in the face several times an hour-always followed by a shocked look in my direction. I think she wants to know why her bad mommy lets her hit herself. I can see why not wanting to hold hard toys yet might be an instinct. Punching yourself in the face repeatedly is no fun. Punching yourself in the face repeatedly while holding something hard could have evolutionary implications.

Before she was born, I swore that nothing but breast milk would touch her lips until she was 6 months old. Being the bad mother, I introduced her to organic rice cereal mixed with breast milk last week, at 3 months. It does seem to help her tummy and she liked it. She actually giggled when I gave her the first few bites. She even took the spoon away from me and shoved it in her own mouth. A few days later I tried mixing rice cereal with soy formula since I was in a hurry and out of expressed milk. She learned to spit. A lot.

This stuff tastes WAY better than the cat!

Much more came out after each bite than I put in. Kinda like a horrific reneactment of the loaves and fishes. She smiled and cood and spit out every bite in triplicate. I finally dumped the remainder of the cereal down the drain. There was no way she was eating it. Fine, no cereal until I get a chance to pump again. Well, now she knows food comes in plates and bowls and that it is good stuff when not mixed with nasty soy formula.

So, again, being a bad mother, I let her taste a tiny bit of potato when we went out to eat and she started lunging for my plate. Seemed harmless, potatoes are bland and they are a vegetable! No one I know is allergic to potatoes (unless you count the fact that they make me break out in fat!).

She liked it. Swallowed it. Asked for more. Got it. Swallowed it. Shrieked indignantly when I suggested she had had enough for her little tummy to try this new food. What we had there was a failure to communicate -and a lot of people looking at me like mine was the only kid in the place making any noise. Guess who got more potato? Great, now I am the bad mommy indulging her kid’s every whim. Just “Please, for the love of all that is holy, do not scream in the restaurant!”

Jami and Eva on Jami's Birth Day

I read books. It is an amazing thing to see the baby you once rocked to sleep, now cradling her own baby. She lives an hour away now, so I could not leave Eva to go and be with her. She called me every few hours to ask questions or let us know her progress. I worried so much that my mom had to talk me out of driving to Ogden in a snowstorm to go be at the hospital. (My mother is on oxygen so she was not able to be out of the house long enough to be with her during labor.) I couldn’t sleep most of the night, praying that she and her little girl would be ok. I was so relieved when her husband was finally able to call and let us know that mother and baby were healthy and doing fine.

My mom and I took Eva with us to go visit. Eva was just one ounce less than Jami and a half an inch taller at birth, so it was amazing to see how much she has grown in just 3 months.

I got yer back, lil' cousin!

Eva, older and wiser, is already taking a protective stance with her little cousin.