What is a sacrifice, really?
When I tell people about my "situation", most of the time I get one of two reactions: "atta girl!" (actually, my favorite reaction was "remind me never to piss you off!) or "oh, that must be hard." Well, both are true. On the one hand, I didn't compromise myself and settle for a situation that didn't suit me, but at the same time, it did make my life a lot harder. In a recent conversation, the word "sacrifice" was brought up a lot, as in "Wow, you have to make a lot of sacrifices". Do I? I never stopped to think about it.
Sure, I am truly a single mom in every meaning of the word "single." There is no husband, no boyfriend, not even a deadbeat dad. Just absence. Just me. Nobody takes my kid every other weekend, or pays me child support. That means, when I'm not at work (while my parents are graciously watching Emma), I'm with her. That means no going out with friends to bars and movies, no sporting events, no staying out late of any kind at all. When she wakes up in the night, I can never roll over and say "honey, it's your turn" (not that I would anyway, since she's in bed with me). I don't have a partner to bounce parenting ideas off of, to complain to when I'm tired and feeling weak, etc. You get the point I'm trying to make here. I'm truly single.
I'm suddenly realizing there seems to be a negative tone to this. So let me make my true point here: what other people consider sacrifices must be far different from what I consider a sacrifice. Nobody takes my kid every other weekend - which means I never have to be apart from her. Nobody pays me child support - while the extra cash would be nice, it's not worth the trouble in my case. And going out with friends to bars and movies? Ehhh, I could take it or leave it. I'd rather hear Emma babble on and on about the moon and the fire trucks and her baby doll, and see her sweet eyes look up at me adoringly when she wakes up in the night. And this "situation" has made me closer to my parents and family than I ever thought was humanly possible.
So really, am I making sacrifices? Maybe. Probably. But they're not sacrifices in my eyes. They're calculated attempts to raise the most healthy and loving child that I possibly can...and I'd "sacrifice" anything for that.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Emma's Song
I don't know how many of you watch "Raising Hope." It's a cute little show about a guy that gets a serial killer pregnant, she has the baby in jail, and then gets the electric chair, leaving this young, clueless man to take care of the baby, Hope. Not many similarities to my situation, but oddly, some. Well, in one of the episodes, the boy's parents have to help him get Hope to sleep, and they sing the Kenny Loggins tune "Danny's Song" to her. I was amazed, because I started singing that song to Emma while she was still in the womb. I sing it to her almost daily, most of the time when she's falling asleep.
I love the song. Yes, I realize that it's about how much a man loves the woman who's carrying his child. Yes, I see the irony in this, believe me, I really do. But the song, especially the chorus, really does sum up the bond that Emma and I have. I've said this before, I know that all mothers have bonds with their children, but I feel like Emma and I share a much different bond than most, one that most mothers (fortunately or unfortunately) don't get to have with their children. (Let me add here, I know that other moms who have husbands or boyfriends in the picture share their own special bond, I just happen to know nothing about that). I think for the rest of my life, no matter what happens, this song will always pull on my heart, and remind me exactly how lucky I am. We don't need money, we don't need fancy things - we just need to remember how grateful we are for the things we have, no matter how they came to be. So, Emma, all I have to say is:
Even though we ain't got money
I'm so in love with ya honey
Everything will bring a chain of love
In the mornin' when I rise
Bring a tear of joy to my eyes
And tell me everything's gonna be all right
I love the song. Yes, I realize that it's about how much a man loves the woman who's carrying his child. Yes, I see the irony in this, believe me, I really do. But the song, especially the chorus, really does sum up the bond that Emma and I have. I've said this before, I know that all mothers have bonds with their children, but I feel like Emma and I share a much different bond than most, one that most mothers (fortunately or unfortunately) don't get to have with their children. (Let me add here, I know that other moms who have husbands or boyfriends in the picture share their own special bond, I just happen to know nothing about that). I think for the rest of my life, no matter what happens, this song will always pull on my heart, and remind me exactly how lucky I am. We don't need money, we don't need fancy things - we just need to remember how grateful we are for the things we have, no matter how they came to be. So, Emma, all I have to say is:
Even though we ain't got money
I'm so in love with ya honey
Everything will bring a chain of love
In the mornin' when I rise
Bring a tear of joy to my eyes
And tell me everything's gonna be all right
Friday, March 25, 2011
How to Forgive
Over the course of the past year, I've had more people than I care to admit ask me how I can have such a good attitude about my situation. I can always answer honestly that I know exactly how I've been able to manage it. I can be happy and optimistic about my situation because I've learned how to forgive. It was no small task, I assure you, especially considering the fact that I've never considered myself a forgiving person. But unless you want to spend the rest of your life poisoning yourself with hate and anger, you have to let it go. I understand why most people can't do it, because it was really hard, and there were many times along the way that people questioned my actions. But it didn't matter, because I knew that the way I was doing it would eventually lead to forgiveness. But how? Now, what I'm going to say may sound strange, but the way I did this was by following the Kubler-Ross Model (also known as the "Five Stages of Grief" from Death and Dying). Let me explain:
Stage One: Denial
I didn't want him to have a problem as much as he didn't want a problem, I think. I justified the fact that he drank a lot by the irrational, and completely incorrect assumption that alcohol was his only problem. I denied the fact that he had a problem at all, while also denying that this was eventually going to be the end of us. "Sure, honey, borrow the car. Go hang out with your friends. You didn't come home until 5am? Oh, you fell asleep on G's couch? Oh, that's all right. I'm sure you're telling me the truth." Let's face it. No newly-pregnant woman wants to admit that she's about to be left in a lurch.
Stage Two: Anger
When the proverbial sh** did hit the fan, and the evidence was in front of my face, I turned from denial to anger. I wasn't nice anymore, and he noticed. I started name-calling and friend-bashing. I said things to him that I knew would hit him deep down and make him resent me, and it was worse than that, it made me resent myself. I wrote him letters detailing what kind of scum I thought he was, and what a terrible person he was for doing this to the woman carrying his child. If I knew then what I know now, I would've stopped in my tracks, because he already hated himself more than I could ever hate him.
Stage Three: Bargaining
Most of the time in this stage, people bargain with themselves or God. Not me. This is when people started to question what I was thinking, but I knew what I was doing...anything I could to make him better. I bargained with him. I told him that if he got better, we would get back together and be a family. That he could have a relationship with his daughter, and that I would help him mend his relationship with his family. Even after the threats and accusations, and the evidence that he'd lied to me repeatedly, I was still willing to forgive, and even take him back. I eventually realized that I wasn't bargaining, I was begging. I didn't want to admit that it was time, for the sake of me and my unborn daughter, to raise the white flag.
Stage Four: Depression
I won't go into this too much, because it's pretty self explanatory (and also because thinking of this time in my life makes me melancholy). It was a sad sight: Picture a pregnant woman curled up in the fetal position crying next to the window. Not because she's hormonal, but because she's starting to come to the realization that there's nothing she can do to save a person and a relationship that doesn't want to be saved. While it was very sad, this, my friends, is a huge turning point in the process.
Stage Five: Acceptance
This is by far the hardest stage. Probably because the previous four stages don't just happen once before you get to the acceptance stage; they happen over and over again until you're ready to accept your situation. I went from anger back to denial, over to depression, back to bargaining (I bargained with him up until 3 weeks before I delivered!!). But in the end, I had to accept that he couldn't be who I needed him to be, and I needed to be someone else now: Emma's mommy.
What's really important here is that even after I reached the Acceptance Stage, I still allowed myself to revisit the other stages every once in a while. Forgiving doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt sometimes, or that I have forgotten the past exists. It just means, at least to me, that I've accepted the situation for what it is, and am ready to move on from it...What happens next is totally up to me! So when you find yourself at the beginning of the end, let yourself fall. Let yourself scream and cry and come up with every excuse possible to hang onto a little hope. And then, when the time comes, accept it...that's how to forgive.
Stage One: Denial
I didn't want him to have a problem as much as he didn't want a problem, I think. I justified the fact that he drank a lot by the irrational, and completely incorrect assumption that alcohol was his only problem. I denied the fact that he had a problem at all, while also denying that this was eventually going to be the end of us. "Sure, honey, borrow the car. Go hang out with your friends. You didn't come home until 5am? Oh, you fell asleep on G's couch? Oh, that's all right. I'm sure you're telling me the truth." Let's face it. No newly-pregnant woman wants to admit that she's about to be left in a lurch.
Stage Two: Anger
When the proverbial sh** did hit the fan, and the evidence was in front of my face, I turned from denial to anger. I wasn't nice anymore, and he noticed. I started name-calling and friend-bashing. I said things to him that I knew would hit him deep down and make him resent me, and it was worse than that, it made me resent myself. I wrote him letters detailing what kind of scum I thought he was, and what a terrible person he was for doing this to the woman carrying his child. If I knew then what I know now, I would've stopped in my tracks, because he already hated himself more than I could ever hate him.
Stage Three: Bargaining
Most of the time in this stage, people bargain with themselves or God. Not me. This is when people started to question what I was thinking, but I knew what I was doing...anything I could to make him better. I bargained with him. I told him that if he got better, we would get back together and be a family. That he could have a relationship with his daughter, and that I would help him mend his relationship with his family. Even after the threats and accusations, and the evidence that he'd lied to me repeatedly, I was still willing to forgive, and even take him back. I eventually realized that I wasn't bargaining, I was begging. I didn't want to admit that it was time, for the sake of me and my unborn daughter, to raise the white flag.
Stage Four: Depression
I won't go into this too much, because it's pretty self explanatory (and also because thinking of this time in my life makes me melancholy). It was a sad sight: Picture a pregnant woman curled up in the fetal position crying next to the window. Not because she's hormonal, but because she's starting to come to the realization that there's nothing she can do to save a person and a relationship that doesn't want to be saved. While it was very sad, this, my friends, is a huge turning point in the process.
Stage Five: Acceptance
This is by far the hardest stage. Probably because the previous four stages don't just happen once before you get to the acceptance stage; they happen over and over again until you're ready to accept your situation. I went from anger back to denial, over to depression, back to bargaining (I bargained with him up until 3 weeks before I delivered!!). But in the end, I had to accept that he couldn't be who I needed him to be, and I needed to be someone else now: Emma's mommy.
What's really important here is that even after I reached the Acceptance Stage, I still allowed myself to revisit the other stages every once in a while. Forgiving doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt sometimes, or that I have forgotten the past exists. It just means, at least to me, that I've accepted the situation for what it is, and am ready to move on from it...What happens next is totally up to me! So when you find yourself at the beginning of the end, let yourself fall. Let yourself scream and cry and come up with every excuse possible to hang onto a little hope. And then, when the time comes, accept it...that's how to forgive.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
"Please and Thank You" and Other Contagious Behaviors
It's never too early to teach a child manners. If you are an inherently polite person, and act this way around your child, the child will catch on that this is how it works and start to mimic these behaviors (the same goes for if you are inherently rude.) I find myself prodding the newly-kinda-talking Emma to say "please" when she wants something, and "thank you" when she gets it. While it comes out "pees" and "doot do", I think she might be starting to get it.
The reason this comes to mind is because lately I've been watching the way people interact. Is it just me, or are people ruder, nastier, and more pessimistic than they used to be? I am constantly hearing complaint after complaint, rude remark after rude remark, and I don't hear as many "thank yous" as I used to. I also hear a lot of negativity about situations that really aren't that bad. I'll be the first one to tell you that it's easy to fall into the pessimism trap when life hands you a crappy set of cards, but it's up to you how to play those cards for the rest of the game. If you choose to pout for the rest of the game or complain incessantly about your bad cards, it's only going to set you up for a bad outlook on things. Why not use the cards you were given to try to play the game to your best ability?
Optimism, like manners, is easily learned when it is practiced dutifully. There are many positives (no pun intended) to being an optimistic person. You'll never, or rarely, be called "nasty" or "grumpy", and you will attract other optimistic people in your life. And really, what sounds better: a group of grumbly, complaining, miserable people, or a group of happy, cheerful, and thankful people?
So remember, it's never too early (or too late!) to make your life a little happier. Start with a little "please", add some "thank you", and pretty soon, you'll be catching yourself, or your little one, making the world a little bit brighter of a place.
The reason this comes to mind is because lately I've been watching the way people interact. Is it just me, or are people ruder, nastier, and more pessimistic than they used to be? I am constantly hearing complaint after complaint, rude remark after rude remark, and I don't hear as many "thank yous" as I used to. I also hear a lot of negativity about situations that really aren't that bad. I'll be the first one to tell you that it's easy to fall into the pessimism trap when life hands you a crappy set of cards, but it's up to you how to play those cards for the rest of the game. If you choose to pout for the rest of the game or complain incessantly about your bad cards, it's only going to set you up for a bad outlook on things. Why not use the cards you were given to try to play the game to your best ability?
Optimism, like manners, is easily learned when it is practiced dutifully. There are many positives (no pun intended) to being an optimistic person. You'll never, or rarely, be called "nasty" or "grumpy", and you will attract other optimistic people in your life. And really, what sounds better: a group of grumbly, complaining, miserable people, or a group of happy, cheerful, and thankful people?
So remember, it's never too early (or too late!) to make your life a little happier. Start with a little "please", add some "thank you", and pretty soon, you'll be catching yourself, or your little one, making the world a little bit brighter of a place.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Now you are one...
Dear Emma,
Now you are one... Looking back to a year ago, I can't believe how far we've come. I hope someday (when you're an adult) you'll read my letters and understand just what kind of impact you had on me. I know that all mothers love their children, but I feel like you and I have an even more special connection than most. You came into this world at a time when I was more brokenhearted than I'd ever been in my life. I'd experienced the worst kinds of pain and sadness, and had shut myself off from my own heart. Once I saw your face, I felt my heart start to heal. Little by little, your little smiles, giggles, and even cries started putting the pieces back together.
Now you are one...and the pieces are almost all back in place.
Now you are one...and I couldn't love you any more, but I know I will.
Now you are one...and I can't believe the little person you are becoming.
Now you are one...and I feel like I am back to being "one" too.
So thank you. Thank you for coming into my life when you did. Thank you for healing me and letting me grow you into such an amazing little person. At a year old, I can already see that you will be a loving person who is not afraid to share or show her feelings. You will always be the most important person in my life, and I will never leave you to wonder how much I love you. Happy birthday, little baby. Mama loves you so much.
Love,
Mommy
Now you are one... Looking back to a year ago, I can't believe how far we've come. I hope someday (when you're an adult) you'll read my letters and understand just what kind of impact you had on me. I know that all mothers love their children, but I feel like you and I have an even more special connection than most. You came into this world at a time when I was more brokenhearted than I'd ever been in my life. I'd experienced the worst kinds of pain and sadness, and had shut myself off from my own heart. Once I saw your face, I felt my heart start to heal. Little by little, your little smiles, giggles, and even cries started putting the pieces back together.
Now you are one...and the pieces are almost all back in place.
Now you are one...and I couldn't love you any more, but I know I will.
Now you are one...and I can't believe the little person you are becoming.
Now you are one...and I feel like I am back to being "one" too.
So thank you. Thank you for coming into my life when you did. Thank you for healing me and letting me grow you into such an amazing little person. At a year old, I can already see that you will be a loving person who is not afraid to share or show her feelings. You will always be the most important person in my life, and I will never leave you to wonder how much I love you. Happy birthday, little baby. Mama loves you so much.
Love,
Mommy
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Baby Kisses
You don't really know what love is until you have a baby. You THINK you do, but you really have no idea. For example, Emma stuck her little face up by mine this morning, bent in, and gave me a huge kiss. It makes all those leaky poopy diapers and tantrums worth it...
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Watch yo mouf!
Note to self: Watch what you say around a toddler. The other night, I told my dad I would "kick his butt", and from the other room, I heard (clear as a whistle) "BUTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!"
Just call me "Velcro Mom"
So here it is, my first official blog. I gave this a lot of thought, and when it comes right down to it, my life is just too amazing and funny as of late not to share. I'll take this opportunity to introduce those who have been living in the dark ages to the events that have unfolded to this point. Let's start with the fact that I had a baby. Caught up yet? Okay, let's move on.
Can I just take a second here and say - not many people go into these situations knowing they will be a single mother. Not me, anyway. At first, I thought this was the best thing to happen to both of us - this would bring out the best in us, and we would create this loving, happy family - but I should've known better based on his track record. Ever the optimist, I smiled through the pain as my dreams caught fire and burned to the ground right in front of me. My pregnancy was a mixture of the best and worst days of my life. The best were the first time I felt her kick, the first time I looked down and noticed a bump, and of course, when I went into labor. The worst were sitting in an emergency room with a chronic alcoholic/addict throwing up all over me for three hours, being harassed and threatened via late-night phone calls and text messages, and finally, being abandoned completely. I spent my entire pregnancy worrying about a person who obviously had no care or concern for my well-being, when I should've been preparing for the greatest ride of my life.
And then came the moment I'd imagined, but never REALLY imagined: Emma was born. I can honestly say she wasn't the kind of baby I was expecting, but she is the kind of baby I needed. She cried ALL THE TIME, wanted to be constantly held, wouldn't sleep, and didn't eat well. I spent hours upon hours stressing about why she wasn't a "normal baby", and then one day it came to me. Why was I treating her like she knew what she was supposed to do? After some re-thinking, I realized that if I constantly held her, slept with her, and responded to her needs quickly, we were both happy.
I felt so alone and ashamed at first. How strange was it that I slept with my baby all the time? That I fed her on demand? That she didn't have a "schedule", and that I didn't let her cry it out? It took a while, but slowly, friends of mine started introducing the term "attachment parenting". I thought it was all a lot of hippie talk at first, to be completely honest, but after a couple months and many long discussions with friends, I learned to embrace the term. I am an "attachment parent." It's what MY baby needs, and what makes HER happy, and that's all that matters to me. She has her whole life to learn how to self-soothe and be independent. She needs me now, and frankly, I need her too.
So that's a little background on my life. Through this blog, I hope to put my own personal and comedic spin on my life as a Velcro-Mom/Single Mom/Attachment Mom, and any other moms that I become throughout my life...which, beginning Friday, will include "Mom of a One-Year Old!" Hopefully, it will be of some help to other moms out there struggling with some of the same issues. If not, well, maybe it will be good birth control.
Can I just take a second here and say - not many people go into these situations knowing they will be a single mother. Not me, anyway. At first, I thought this was the best thing to happen to both of us - this would bring out the best in us, and we would create this loving, happy family - but I should've known better based on his track record. Ever the optimist, I smiled through the pain as my dreams caught fire and burned to the ground right in front of me. My pregnancy was a mixture of the best and worst days of my life. The best were the first time I felt her kick, the first time I looked down and noticed a bump, and of course, when I went into labor. The worst were sitting in an emergency room with a chronic alcoholic/addict throwing up all over me for three hours, being harassed and threatened via late-night phone calls and text messages, and finally, being abandoned completely. I spent my entire pregnancy worrying about a person who obviously had no care or concern for my well-being, when I should've been preparing for the greatest ride of my life.
And then came the moment I'd imagined, but never REALLY imagined: Emma was born. I can honestly say she wasn't the kind of baby I was expecting, but she is the kind of baby I needed. She cried ALL THE TIME, wanted to be constantly held, wouldn't sleep, and didn't eat well. I spent hours upon hours stressing about why she wasn't a "normal baby", and then one day it came to me. Why was I treating her like she knew what she was supposed to do? After some re-thinking, I realized that if I constantly held her, slept with her, and responded to her needs quickly, we were both happy.
I felt so alone and ashamed at first. How strange was it that I slept with my baby all the time? That I fed her on demand? That she didn't have a "schedule", and that I didn't let her cry it out? It took a while, but slowly, friends of mine started introducing the term "attachment parenting". I thought it was all a lot of hippie talk at first, to be completely honest, but after a couple months and many long discussions with friends, I learned to embrace the term. I am an "attachment parent." It's what MY baby needs, and what makes HER happy, and that's all that matters to me. She has her whole life to learn how to self-soothe and be independent. She needs me now, and frankly, I need her too.
So that's a little background on my life. Through this blog, I hope to put my own personal and comedic spin on my life as a Velcro-Mom/Single Mom/Attachment Mom, and any other moms that I become throughout my life...which, beginning Friday, will include "Mom of a One-Year Old!" Hopefully, it will be of some help to other moms out there struggling with some of the same issues. If not, well, maybe it will be good birth control.
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