This co-parenting thing ...

Is tough. Especially when the other parent is - intentionally or not - complicating things. A lot. Especially when the other parent decides to back out of a day with his son, and then an hour later decide he wants to have his son after all, and then the next morning act all covert-ops and refuse to text me about his schedule and then just disappear when he's supposed to be picking up Asher.

Especially when the other parent feels like they are all alone, no one is helping them or caring about them and their schedule and their needs, and that they are constantly getting the short end of the stick, Natalie. You have people helping you, Natalie. If I could be xyz all the time, Natalie, that would be great. But I can't.

Well apparently, because of his subsequent failures and disappointments, I am the responsible party; for causing this divorce, for demanding things from him that are just so unreasonable. I'm responsible for his lack of responsibility (!), his lack of maturity, his lack of willingness to work hard and make an effort at life. Because apparently he wasn't this sad and this alienated and this much of a failure when I met him; it's just gotten worse and worse, thanks to my encouragement.

I mean really, we're talking about *his* son here, too. If he wants to see him, he can see him. The schedule is simply there to make our lives as structured and predictable (in at least this one area) as possible so we all know what's happening next and there isn't total chaos. But of course he thrives on total chaos, being the center of attention and then acting like it's everyone else's problem that there is chaos and he's just the innocent victim. So of course he screws up the schedule and then blames me for expecting from him: responsibility, consistency, follow-through. God. Forbid.

I tried not to lull myself into thinking that co-parenting would be a breeze. I knew it wouldn't be. If moving out was this hard on me, I knew co-parenting would present its own set of challenges. I do still have to interact with him and try to make those interactions as friendly and caring and thoughtful and peaceful as possible - FOR ASHER. However, if I'm the only one making those efforts and taking those strides toward an amicable relationship, it will only fail. Which is the obvious end result. If you think about our marriage, it failed for the same reason. You can't have a partnership where one partner is dragging the other partner through the relationhip, forcing them to be responsible, be an adult ... because they are lazy and think everything is A-OK all the while blaming the other partner for making them feel like a failure.

So yeah, I knew that if nothing changed inside him, this relationship would be no different than our marriage. But it's still hard. It's still really difficult to know that I have to deal with this stunted, selfish person who doesn't even know or care how to interact with me in an adult and mutually respectful way, for the next twenty years. He doesn't even see the care and respect I give to him as such. He has always thought my interactions with him are barbed with judgment and rudeness and malice. Good God that is exhausting.

I don't know how this thing is going to go. Some days it seems fine and other days it's a rollercoast ride, a balancing act, a back and forth between reason and completely irrational emotion. Maybe in time things will settle into a more comfortable and predictable routine. For everyone's sake I know that's what needs to happen but I can't force it to happen. If I've learned anything, I know I can't make anything happen with or for him that he doesn't also want to happen. My entire marriage was me trying so hard to get him to be a success, to think better of himself; and I finally realized what a crazy-making, failed-from-the-start endeavor THAT was. Despite what he says he's a glutton for punishment. He refuses to break away from that rut so it's all he knows and all he allows.

At least this time around I can know from the start that I can do nothing to control or manage this situation except to ensure Asher's care and safety and to ensure MY sanity by staying above the fray of drama. Or at least trying.

On Moving Out. On Moving On.



Summer sun in the backyard

This weekend, I moved out. I have spent much of this year in a fog, feeling like I'm not sure what to do, what my next step will be, how to take that step, and what will happen when I do.

January 6th was the day that kind of started it all. Kind of, only because it had actually started long before; but it was the day of reckoning, the day of honesty, the day I made my decision known. It hit me that day that THAT was why I had waited so long to say anything. Telling my spouse I was done was one of the hardest things I've ever experienced.

All year I've waited and talked and taken time to ease into this reality. All year I've tried to be sensitive and understanding and caring as much as I can. To a point, this is good; it's always good to treat other people with care and delicacy and respect for their feelings. But beyond that point it is out of my control and not my problem. Rude? Definitely not. Realistic? For sure.

October 13th saw me leaving the house for the last time as a resident (my name remains on the mortgage for the time being) and driving away with the last trunk full of clothes, tchotchkes and furniture. I left the rooms in as much order as I could. I rearranged furniture to make sure the rooms didn't look abandoned and messy. Instead, they look neatly arranged and comfortable, floors swept, pillows fluffed, beds made. Again, I didn't have to; but I did. Maybe because I'm pretty damn nice. Or maybe because I'm scared and walking on egg shells and it's one thing I can do to ... appease?

The moving out is done. Now for the moving on.



Cottonwood tree

My ex mother in law thinks I just need to tell him in details why I am done so he can move on. I find that amusingly unrealistic, considering I've talked and detailed til I'm blue in the face. Considering I've busted my butt working for this marriage to no avail. You can't be the only one working on a partnership; that's an oximoron. Eight years later, I finally got that. And no amount of talking and explaining and detailing will get him to see or understand where I'm coming from. I can only hope that time will help him heal, and that HE will help himself heal by being honest - truly, painfully honest - with himself and with his therapist to reach a realistic, healthy place for his own good. He needs that. And I can't get him to that place. I sure tried though.

As I pulled away from my house for the last time as a resident, I felt a wash of relief and renewal. Like I could start being me again. Like I could try to find the new, grown up, independent Natalie, whoever she is. Like I could do what I wanted to do; like I could just ... be.

That's not to say there weren't good times and memories from our marriage; there certainly were. I remember camping out in our den during the holidays a few years ago with a fire in the fireplace for Lord of the Rings Extended Edition marathons. I remember biking and exploring through the woods behind our apartment complex. I remember Colorado vacations. Those were good things. Those things can't be taken away and they shouldn't. But the bad things ... those I want to forget and move past. I want to move on. I want to get over it and move on with my own life. My life and his life are going to be linked because of our incredible son. And that's OK.

 

Summer alley

It might be tough, but I intend to make the most of it for Asher's sake and to be the best mom and I can be for him no matter what is going on around me. That's part of why I left my marriage.

I have to be the best me so I can be the best mom. Asher deserves the very best mom. God picked me as his mama and I have to be strong, honest, happy, balanced, dedicated, hopeful ... I have to be my best so I can be the best for him.

He deserves that. He deserves a mama who is moved on and fully present. And that is what I intend to do.

Beautiful Advice to Husbands

I just happened upon this blog and this particular post the other day and it really struck me. As I read through the list I realized what has been missing all along. Maybe I didn't try as hard as I thought I did; it sure is exhausting when you feel like you ARE trying, really hard, and nothing comes of it. But this list made it more clear to me: I can't blame myself for this; he played a role, too. He let go. He gave up. It makes me sad we couldn't have this, that we couldn't have better than where we are right now. Maybe ... better luck next time.

(Note: I may not have chosen all the words and exact ideas as the author did, but the gist of this document rings true for me. I made no changes to the body of this list; capitalization, grammar, etc are the original author's.)

1. Never stop courting. Never stop dating. NEVER EVER take that woman for granted. When you asked her to marry you, you promised to be that man that would OWN HER HEART and to fiercely protect it. This is the most important and sacred treasure you will ever be entrusted with. SHE CHOSE YOU. Never forget that, and NEVER GET LAZY in your love.

2. Protect your own heart. Just as you committed to being the protector of her heart, you must guard your own with the same vigilance. Love yourself fully, love the world openly, but there is a special place in your heart where no one must enter except for your wife. Keep that space always ready to receive her and invite her in, and refuse to let anyone or anything else enter there.

3. Fall in love over and over again. You will constantly change. You’re not the same people you were when you got married, and in five years you will not be the same person you are today. Change will come, and in that you have to re-choose each other every day. SHE DOESN’T HAVE TO STAY WITH YOU, and if you don’t take care of her heart, she may give that heart to someone else or seal you out completely, and you may never be able to get it back. Always fight to win her love just as you did when you were courting her.

4. Always see the best in her. Focus only on what you love. What you focus on will expand. If you focus on what bugs you, all you will see is reasons to be bugged. If you focus on what you love, you can’t help but be consumed by love. Focus to the point where you can no longer see anything but love, and you know without a doubt that you are the luckiest man on earth to be have this woman as your wife.

5. It’s not your job to change or fix her… your job is to love her as she is with no expectation of her ever changing. And if she changes, love what she becomes, whether it’s what you wanted or not.

6. Take full accountability for your own emotions: It’s not your wife’s job to make you happy, and she CAN’T make you sad. You are responsible for finding your own happiness, and through that your joy will spill over into your relationship and your love.

7. Never blame your wife if you get frustrated or angry at her, it is only because it is triggering something inside of YOU. They are YOUR emotions, and your responsibility. When you feel those feelings take time to get present and to look within and understand what it is inside of YOU that is asking to be healed. You were attracted to this woman because she was the person best suited to trigger all of your childhood wounds in the

most painful way so that you could heal them… when you heal yourself, you will no longer be triggered by her, and you will wonder why you ever were.

8. Allow your woman to just be. When she’s sad or upset, it’s not your job to fix it, it’s your job to HOLD HER and let her know it’s ok. Let her know that you hear her, and that she’s important and that you are that pillar on which she can always lean. The feminine spirit is about change and emotion and like a storm her emotions will roll in and out, and as you remain strong and unjudging she will trust you and open her soul to you…DON’T RUN AWAY WHEN SHE’S UPSET. Stand present and strong and let her know you aren’t going anywhere. Listen to what she is really saying behind the words and emotion.

9. Be silly… don’t take yourself so damn seriously. Laugh. And make her laugh. Laughter makes everything else easier.

10. Fill her soul everyday… learn her love languages and the specific ways that she feels important and validated and CHERISHED. Ask her to create a list of 10 THINGS that make her feel loved and memorize those things and make it a priority everyday to make her feel like a queen.

11. Be present. Give her not only your time, but your focus, your attention and your soul. Do whatever it takes to clear your head so that when you are with her you are fully WITH HER. Treat her as you would your most valuable client. She is.

12. Be willing to take her sexually, to carry her away in the power of your masculine presence, to consume her and devour her with your strength, and to penetrate her to the deepest levels of her soul. Let her melt into her feminine softness as she knows she can trust you fully.

13. Don’t be an idiot…. And don’t be afraid of being one either. You will make mistakes and so will she. Try not to make too big of mistakes, and learn from the ones you do make. You’re not supposed to be perfect, just try to not be too stupid.

14. Give her space… The woman is so good at giving and giving, and sometimes she will need to be reminded to take time to nurture herself. Sometimes she will need to fly from your branches to go and find what feeds her soul, and if you give her that space she will come back with new songs to sing…. (Okay, getting a little too poetic here, but you get the point. Tell her to take time for herself, ESPECIALLY after you have kids. She needs that space to renew and get re-centered, and to find herself after she gets lost in serving you, the kids and the world.)

15. Be vulnerable… you don’t have to have it all together. Be willing to share your fears and feelings, and quick to acknowledge your mistakes.

16. Be fully transparent. If you want to have trust you must be willing to share EVERYTHING… Especially those things you don’t want to share. It takes courage to fully love, to fully open your heart and let her in when you don’t know if she will like what she finds… Part of that courage is allowing her to love you completely, your darkness as well as your light. DROP THE MASK… If you feel like you need to wear a mask around her, and show up perfect all the time, you will never experience the full dimension of what love can be.

17. Never stop growing together… The stagnant pond breeds malaria, the flowing stream is always fresh and cool. Atrophy is the natural process when you stop working a muscle, just as it is if you stop working on your relationship. Find common goals, dreams and visions to work towards.

18. Don’t worry about money. Money is a game, find ways to work together as a team to win it. It never helps when teammates fight. Figure out ways to leverage both persons strength to win.

19. Forgive immediately and focus on the future rather than carrying weight from the past. Don’t let your history hold you hostage. Holding onto past mistakes that either you or she makes is like a heavy anchor to your marriage and will hold you back. FORGIVENESS IS FREEDOM. Cut the anchor loose and always choose love.

20. Always choose love. ALWAYS CHOOSE LOVE. In the end, this is the only advice you need. If this is the guiding principle through which all your choices are governed, there is nothing that will threaten the happiness of your marriage. Love will always endure.

That nervous pit goes away eventually ... right?

As I have finally stepped back from my life and taken a good look at what's going on, it's been something of a shock. The type of person I have been up to this point is blind and oblivious, no matter how in tune I think I am. I have been an 'all in' kind of person and when I go all in, I don't look back; I don't look anywhere. I just go. And then realize once it's too late that I've made a massive error. For the last eight years or so, I haven't really looked too hard at what I've been doing, right now, in this moment. I think I'm doing the right thing, I think I'm taking the right steps so I just take them and do my thing and do it wholeheartedly, which for me means without thinking. I have always been a forward thinking person - I am a planner - but somehow I have managed to blindly lead myself down a path that has gotten me through eight years of marriage that didn't fulfill but instead drained me, used me, and spat me back out. Now I'm embarking on a totally new life - a fresh start - that I never expected. I should have expected all of this. I just didn't want to; I didn't want to see it because I thought I was working so hard and doing all the right things to avoid this. But here I am.

I've had a pit in my stomach for a long time. When I realized how I had failed at my own life - and how hugely disappointed I was - there was kind of a soul-wrenching realization that settled in heavy and hard and hasn't let go. I don't think it does until I have been painfully and thoroughly honest with myself and decide to face the reasons instead of ignoring them yet again.

This whole year has been an eye-opening experience for me. I still feel like I'm walking through a fog and just leaning toward the dim light that will guide me out eventually. That light being a new direction for my life. I have been so scared to make any real and necessary changes for a long time because I didn't want to see how wrong I was: I made a really big mistake.

The last straw - the last handful of straws, really - has made me finally see what the hell is going on, what I've been putting up with and what has actually been a bunch of red flags - deal breakers - that I've been ignoring all along. Once I finally acknowledged them, it was a huge, relieving gasp of air. Like I've been sinking slowly and never even opened my eyes to see the surface slowly fading away. Once I 'got it', once I made a change - a last-ditch lurch toward the surface - that gasp of air was my wake up call. It's a weird moment. For me it really wasn't just one moment. It was a slow fade, a gradient experience as I was slowly waking up to my reality. It was like waking in the morning. There is a period where you are awake but don't quite know it ... you still drift in and out of a sleepy dream state and eventually the sensory input from around you comes on stronger than your dreams and you are fully awake. Now I just have to see that through and trust what I'm doing. It has felt right ever since I made my choice. It still feels right. Deep down, I know it's right. It's incredibly, achingly difficult, but it's right. I just have to keep reminding myself of that.

I'm starting over. I'm doing what I need. I'm finding myself again. It's painful and nerve-wracking; and that pit still lingers. But one of these days it will be gone and it won't come back.


"I now realize that lives fall apart when they need to be rebuilt. Lives fall apart when the foundation upon which they were built needs to be relaid. Lives fall apart, not because God is punishing us for what we have or have not done. Lives fall apart because they need to. They need to because they weren't built the right way in the first place."

~ Iyanla Vanzant

Asher's One Year Check Up

Asher and Pop

Sitting on the scale

This year has been so full and so busy I can hardly believe my Asher is already One. It has passed so quickly and so slowly. Someone said: The days are long but the years are short. And I can't help but nod my nostalgic agreement with that truth.

When you have a treasured child, a blessing and a bright shining light of youth and newness and exuberance to fill your days, the days take forever to pass - as an adult your energy is substantially less than your child's, a fact that is sometimes painfully apparent as you are running fumes by the end of the day - but the years you share with them speed by before you even realize it.



Waiting for the Dr

Every day with Asher this past year has been long and full and often tiring. But once his first birthday rolled around, I found myself awed at how quickly it seemed to have arrived. After all those long days and often sleepless nights; after the sickness, growth spurts and teething; the laughter and belly flubs and bedtime cuddles, new words and books read together ... he was suddenly One. He was suddenly my Toddler. My little baby boy was transforming second by minute by day. Some mornings he would wake up and I'd walk into his room and see him standing in his crib waiting for me, or sitting and playing with his Cuddly bear and he'd look up and beam and coo and reach for me and I'd realize he looked different. His soft little blue-eyed face had changed overnight.

Those fleeting moments pop up so often as you realize your new baby is a growing, dynamic little person and you can't do anything about it. You love it and it kills you at the same time. It's that mama hurt ... all of a sudden everything hurts just a little bit more, everything means just a little bit more and time passes just a little bit faster.

Before I knew it, I was taking Asher to his one year check up. We had breezed through his newborn appointment, a 2 month appointment when he was sick and I was *that* mom, certain he had something worse than his first of many colds to come; we got through his 3, 6 and 9 month check ups with ease ... he had all his shots and did so well. And then his 12 month check up arrived. He didn't love the shots so much.



Me and my Asher

 Of course he always cried a little whenever he got his shots, but this time it seemed worse. He was NOT pleased and right after that first shot (one of THREE), he started howling. And as a mom, you feel like a jerk holding your child's arms down so they can't get away. Please, just give ME the shots! Poor kid has no idea what the heck is going on and just knows it hurts. He can't know that it hurts my mama heart even more. As soon as the shots were administered I scooped him up and gave him some comfort and cuddles and he calmed down pretty quickly. I'm glad we are done with shots for a while.

Asher's One Year Stats

Height: 32 inches (97th percentile)

Weight: 26 pounds, 6 ounces (95th percentile)

Head Circ: 46 cm (97th percentile)

Sick & Tired

I wish it wasn't so difficult to get through something like this. I keep telling myself: Just because it's hard doesn't mean it's not right. But that doesn't take away the pain. It still hurts a lot.

And it still drains me. I am emotionally exhuasted; half the time I'm coasting through the day. I don't care about cleaning the house like I used to or doing a load of laundry until I have to. I don't care about picking out cute outfits for work, accessorizing or make up. I pull on one of a few go-to outfits, comfortable shoes, dust on some powder and blush and I'm done. I coast through the day at work making sure I get my work done on time and with a smile, but all the while I'm just a shell of a person ... I try to make sure it's not painfully obvious that I'm struggling, I'm hurting and I'm not even sure what to do anymore. But I don't think it's working; I am sure that everyone can tell when I have an 'off' day and that something is wrong with Natalie but they don't want to say anything because ... well, this is work; we don't have lives apart from work.

Psalms 71:20-21

You who have made me see many troubles and calamities will revive me again; from the depths of the earth you will bring me up again. You will increase my greatness and comfort me again.

My brain is tired and sometimes doesn't want to be present. But I push through. And I'm tired.

I push and push and push so hard that I make myself sick. Last week I spent a day feeling miserable at work. I was sure it would pass. I went to sleep hoping for a better day but woke up feeling just as sick. Nauseous, achy and worn out like I hadn't just woken from 7 hours of sleep; like I hadn't gotten any rest at all and was next to worthless for a day of work. I spent the entire day at the office hurting in so many ways, fighting back years, and realizing that perhaps the stress and ache and strain of so much change and so much hurt and so much misunderstanding and so much effort had left me sapped and empty and physically ill. I realized that shouldn't come as a surprise. But it still sucks. And it still hurts. And I still have so far to go.

Jeremiah 29:11

"For I know the plans I have for you", declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

 

Asher's Birth Story

To be perfectly honest there isn't much to it as birth stories go. I just feel the desire to record whatever I can remember of it so I don't completely forget. One day I may want to remember it better than I find I am able.


Asher's due date was August 31, 2012. It didn't take me long to realize how insane I was for timing a birth in Dallas in August. Absolutely nuts. As we got closer and closer to his due date, my doctor was monitoring me every week. I can't even remember my stats, but I was effaced something like 30-40% I think, and dilated to about 2 as we closed in on the 31st. I had hoped my Dr could get me scheduled for an induction ON the due date so I could be in the hospital on Labor Day weekend (and get a few extra "free" days tacked onto my post-baby maternity leave).


Ginormous me at 40 weeks (08.31.12)

 But apparently all the other hugely pregnant moms in scorching Dallas had the same idea and by the time my Dr's office called to schedule the induction they didn't have any room for me that weekend. My last prenatal appointment was Wednesday morning, August 29th and I had to wait all weekend to go in for my induction. We scheduled it for Wednesday, September 5th at 8am. That was a long week.

Part of me hoped I'd just go into labor before the induction; the other part was kind of scared to go into labor by myself and wasn't quite sure what to expect if I did. So I was glad (sort of) when that didn't happen. I was absolutely massive and in a lot of pain so I wasn't exactly thrilled to carry on in that state much longer.

My back, legs, neck, and my feet were in pure suffering at all times. Sleep wasn't even a relief at this point. No position was comfortable. Either terrible pressure on my back or awkward twisting and tightness on my sides. Personal maintenance and hygiene were steadily declining on my list of priorities. I can't even remember if my legs were (somewhat) freshly shaved. Showering was a trecherous dance; adding the risk of shaving with a 10 pound baby in my line of sight made it something to shrug off without a second thought. I'm sorry, medical staff, for my dry feet and stubbly legs. But I know you've seen it all.

And the edema. Oh Lord, the edema. The constant, epic ballooning in my legs, feet and sad little sausage toes was the worst part of the pregnancy hands down. I could have been hugely pregnant and not quite so miserable if my skin wasn't being inflated with the pressure of the edema 24/7. I had elephant feet and could fit into ONE pair of shoes (while still going to work). Thank you, Crocs Springi.

I ended up starting my maternity leave just before the Labor Day weekend, on Thursday, August 30, though all that week I was in and out of the office, working from home some and seeing my Dr. It was pretty nice to have a quiet few days to myself and just enjoy my own company, a slightly looser schedule, some last minute tidying up and some major nesting in Asher's room.


Labor Day dinner with my family

 During the long weekend, we spent some time with my family. We had a huge Labor Day spread (the only way my family knows how to 'do' holidays) which included lobster, steaks and root beer floats. On Tuesday evening (September 4th), I made a Last Supper for Kevin and myself: Grilled Pork Chops with German Potato Salad. I used the leftover "It's a Boy!" decor from the surprise baby shower my office ladies threw for me earlier that week (I had four baby showers total over the summer! wow).

The next morning, Wednesday September 5th, I went to the hospital to have my baby. I woke up early because we were supposed to be to the hospital around 7am (I think) for all the paperwork and for them to get me all "hooked up".

I got to the hospital late, at almost 8am and then couldn't find L&D. I felt kind of silly since I had come in just a week or two earlier to take a tour of the wing, where to go, where to park, what to tell your family, etc. Pregnancy brain, perhaps. ;) I found a nice lady who worked at the hospital and she pointed me in the right directly. I had forgotten about a pair of doors that led to L&D and instead of walking through them, I just walked past them. Once I was in the right place, I got checked in and signed in ready to get started.


Contracting

 They took my vitals which included the saddest of all weight checks in my whole life. Not a proud moment. But I reminded myself of my sacred calling as a Mother and Maker of a Whole Human and decided not to give myself a hard time over it. Next, I got to my delivery room where I changed into a gown and got comfortable.

Then they inserted the IV for Pitocin (still have the scar on my hand) and then attached the monitors (one for me and a fetal monitor for Asher) around my abdomen. I liked being able to look over at the screen and see how he was doing.

It didn't take long before they started the Pitocin drip to induce my contractions. I wasn't on any meds for the pain; at this point the sensation and pain associated with the contractions was minimal. I spent several hours just coasting through moderate contractions as they slowly increased the meds and the pain steadily increased along with it. After 6 hours of labor, around 2pm, the pain was to the point where I decided to get my epidural (sitting here today I cannot even remember this pain). The anesthesiologist came in and made quick work of it. I felt next to nothing and then as the numbing kicked in, I actually felt nothing. Hah! Having an epidural is an odd sensation. You feel nothing but you still feel what you're supposed to feel, if that makes sense. As labor progressed and I started pushing, I felt the contractions still and I felt the pressure. There was a very strange, heavy feeling, too from the numbness.

After the epidural was placed I felt the contractions speed up over the next few hours as things started getting a little more intense. Around 6pm my Dr came in to check on my progress. He said I was fully dilated and ready to push. They aren't kidding when they say this is hard work. Your entire body is engaged and working overtime toward the goal of birth, but it feels like your entire body is engaged and working overtime AGAINST your efforts at giving birth. It didn't take long to feel completely exhausted and completely overwhelmed and maybe a little bit scared. Can I even do this?!

After 2 hours of non-stop pushing, Asher hadn't moved. Not even an inch. I felt like I'd been giving everything I had to get him moving and still he hadn't budged. Once he was born and I saw his broad shoulders, it was pretty obvious why; but in the process it was just a roadblock that felt so discouraging. My Dr said if we couldn't get him out soon, we'd have to look at a C section. I understood the risk of infection if the baby is in the birth canal without progress for too long. But I really didn't want a C section. It wasn't that I had an emotional attachment to the natural birth process, but mostly I didn't want to be cut open if I could help it.

My Dr and an entire troup of Drs and nurses seemed to spring into this rush of time-sensitive action as we went into Forcep Assist Mode. There was my Dr, another Ob and what seemed like 6 nurses along with my Push Coach (Unfortunately there was a staff change in the middle of my active labor - of course - so my amazing coach was replaced around 7pm. But her replacement was great and just as encouraging. It was just hard having to shift in the middle of labor). The room was packed and I was determined not to get a C section. So ... in went the forceps. It was all kind of a blur. And when you see those forceps you think "WTF?!" ;) ... And then in just one last push, he was out. We were finally done. And I felt my body give a great sigh of relief. I felt like I was in a fog but I remember lying there amazed at what I had just done, at what had just happened, and waiting to hear that first cry. It came and he sounded so sweet and strong. I couldn't wait to see him.


Asher's first photo

  When I finally saw Asher for the first time, his little face became the face that I'd seen the day I found out I was pregnant, and when I put his fresh bedding on his new crib, when I bought his stroller, when I looked at his car seat, when I laid out his hospital clothes ... that little baby I had imagined and hoped for and couldn't wait to meet was finally here, and I was holding him. I had never seen his face. It was just a blur before, but now it was Asher. That little boy was my little Asher Drake and he was finally here.

Once I met my son, there was some clean up to be done (to say the least). I had lost a lot of blood and there was some tearing. The other Ob who helped with the delivery sewed me up. I don't know the degree of my tearing and I don't know how many stitches they had to place, but it felt like forever before they were done. I was so tired and uncomfortable. Once I was sewn up and the room was put back together, the Drs cleared out and everything calmed down, I was able to get some rest. Asher had his first nursing session and he did really well. I think at some point they took him to the nursery. I wish I could remember. But I wasn't even there ... I felt so weak and delirious.


Me and Asher with my OB.

 As they tried to move me from the bed so I could be wheeled into my recovery room, I fainted. I didn't even realize it but as I came to, I was lying perpendicular on the bed and woke up staring at the ceiling and lights. The nurse was asking me if I was ok. I asked her what happened and she told me I had blacked out when I stood up to sit in the wheelchair. We waited a few minutes for me to 'come to' and tried a second time, but I just collapsed again. This was not going to work. They checked my blood volume and realized just how much blood I had lost. They said I would need a transfusion.

So I stayed in the delivery room for a couple more hours - I can't even remember when I finally got to my room! Probably around midnight - getting 2 bags of blood transfused. I wasn't pleased about that and it felt very ominous signing the consent forms. I was sure I'd get some terrible blood disease. Once I was finally feeling better, they wheeled me - on my bed! They didn't even try a wheelchair again just to be safe - into my new room. Thank God. It was dark and cozy in there. Somewhere along the way Asher ate again. A nurse sat with me during the entire transfusion and brought him in at one point to sit with me. She was impressed that he held his pacifier in all by himself. Asher was safe and sound in the nursery as I was being wheeled into my new room and during the night they brought him in every couple hours to eat. In the night, I had hallucinations which felt really strange. I was on meds for the pain and that certainly didn't help the physical and emotional fog I was already in. I felt like I was hearing voices and I sensed people in my room even when they weren't there and I was sure I was just sleeping through them coming into my room and I imagined myself apologizing for sleeping but ... no one was there. 


My nurse Denise and Asher, hating his bath

 The two nights I spent at the hospital were much the same: a blur of visits (Kevin's dad, and then brother, sister in law and nieces and nephew came to meet Asher), nurses coming in to administer meds or bring Asher in to nurse and broken, fitful sleep. The next day (Thursday), Asher had his first bath. I was really too weak still for them to OK any walking or standing (I still had my cath in place - one of several they had to keep placing and then removing. Ugh) so my sweet nurse Denise did his bath in my room with me and talked with me the whole time.

She was an expert, a comfort, an encouragement and such a kind person to have around during that time. I gave her a big hug when I left on Friday and was sad I couldn't take her home with me.

My family came and visited me and met their first grandson and first nephew. They were very excited and very supportive of me. Both my mom and Kevin said after the fact they felt terrible I was alone in the hospital, not only for the transfusion but then both nights of my stay. The first night there, Kevin had to get back to the house because the person we had come over to feed the cats (so we wouldn't HAVE to go back to the house until I was released) had left one of the doors slightly ajar which set off the house alarm. The alarm company called (on the timeline, this happened even before they tried moving me to my recovery room), but the housesitter wasn't answering their phone so we couldn't get them to go back to the house for us to turn off the alarm. For all we knew something bad had happened. So he went back to the house; it was late so I just told him to stay there so he could get some sleep. I knew I wouldn't sleep well with him in the room snoring anyway.

Here, Asher meets his proud, first-time Lolli, Pop and Uncle:

Knowing what I know now, my mom will definitely be a bigger part of my next delivery, whenever that happens. I know she really wanted to be there when Asher was born. God willing I will have more babies one of these days and she can be right there with me.


Asher and Kevin

 Labor and delivery was definitely a hard time for me. I know it is for most moms. I don't hear a lot of birth stories that last an hour and don't involve pain or some kind of complication, however minor. Giving birth is hard work; it's the hardest work I've done. And when I think objectively about the other struggles I had on my mind and heart at this time, and during my pregnancy, and even to this day, I wish so hard I could have a do over ... or something. I wish I didn't have all this happening all at once. It sucks telling your spouse you want a divorce when you're 4 month old naps in the other room. It sucks even more realizing you've done everything you can to keep that divorce from happening but you've failed.

It's a terrible place to be as a wife and especially as a new mom. But that's where I found myself. Before I even admitted to myself what it was that had been weighing so heavily on me, I thought I had PPD and started taking an anti-depressant that just made it worse. I never quite lifted out of that fog until I stopped taking the anti-depressant and was blatantly honest with myself about my marriage. Only then did I have a light bulb moment. Only then did I feel such a relief, even though I was still at the very beginning of this hard journey. I really didn't want to admit that: Our marriage has failed. But sometimes it happens.

I decided to stop feeling shame for that and instead embrace it because it meant hope and change for all of us. Maybe not now - well, definitely not now - but one day soon things will be better. Motherhood defines me now. I will always be dedicated to Asher and his well-being. No matter what. Over the last year I have seen Kevin become a more involved and caring dad. I hope that he can always be dedicated to Asher. I know he doesn't like the divorce, but I hope he can always keep Asher first, no matter what.



Me and my Asher Bear

 Asher's life has brought a new dimension to my life that has made it more purposeful and more bright. It's interesting watching yourself change as a new parent. Everyone says exactly what will happen but you can't truly understand it until you are experiencing it yourself. It's a powerful new reality of life and the world and humanity that opens itself up to you as you take this sweet little life into your arms and pledge your own life to nurturing and guiding and loving this new little human.

I had that moment with Asher. And I felt like a new person. While it's so overwhelming and, for me, I had a minute to minute change as I sat with Asher feeling the weight of my new responsibility set in, it can also creep in on you slowly, as each day passes.

Each nap with your child on your shoulder, each splash of summer light on the bedsheets as you pull a fresh onesie over that downie head, the fresh air turning from summer to fall as you spend your time nuturing this little baby, each look into those gray-blue eyes as you get to know this new person ... each little memory passes and you are steadily entrenched in this mom thing. Suddenly it becomes you.

No matter how hard, no matter how many more tears you cry now that you are a mom, no matter how deeply painful things are now that you think of them as a mother, and no matter how much everything else around you might hurt, you are a Mother. And you just can't imagine it any other way.