A life ends...one continues...

The ride on the gurney back to the ER seemed an endless maze of sterile corridors. My mind was in such a state of chaos as it handled both my body's growing malaise AND it's forced hand at conceding to what was becoming a more and more obvious rationale for my visit to the ER. My anxiety was bubbling now just beneath the surface. I did my best to remain upbeat as we approached my room. The nurses had brought Cole some books, toys and snacks and he was so excited to show me. It was such a surreal moment as I engaged in animated conversation with him all the while trying to ignore the growing pain and keep my cauldron of emotions from pouring out. As a mom, I simply was trying to put his needs first and bottom line I didn't want to scare him.

The ER had filled up quickly in the 30 minutes or so that I was off having the ultrasound. You could feel the increased energy and hurried pace of the staff. I was acutely aware of the difference and thought to myself, "great, we'll be waiting around now". I had very little time to ponder that as the ER doctor rushed in. He confirmed that I indeed had an ectopic, that I had blood in my abdominal cavity already and that I would need to be prepped for surgery immediately. He followed this with "there was cardiac activity so it has not ruptured yet but you are bleeding internally which is a major concern. The OB surgeon on call is on her way and should be here shortly". The sobs just came uncontrollably as his news sank in. With a grim face he apologized for the curt delivery of my diagnosis but he wanted us to know that things would be moving relatively quickly and that I should take something for the pain. He left and I just fell against Dave crying out "no, no, it can't be..." I felt an overwhelming and incredible sadness at the loss that was inevitable.

I was forced out of my fresh anguish temporarily as the realization of what was to happen next consciously put Dave and I into next steps mode. We had to figure out who to call, what to do with Cole... Dave was supposed to be on a plane to Las Vegas in the morning, who would walk Tucker...the balance of our lives became unbalanced in one fell swoop, changing on a dime everything that was routine.

Our cell phones didn't work deep in the recesses of the ER, so Dave had to step out to make the necessary calls. With tears bursting from my eyes, I told Cole that Mommy would be staying at the hospital, that the doctor's had to fix her tummy and that he had to be a good boy for his daddy. He seemed to sense my distress as my voice cracked with emotion. With his molten brown eyes, he hugged my arm and said "it is okay mommy". The tears coursed down my face as I smiled at him, told him how much I loved him and ruffled his hair. The nurse came in to begin the process of hooking up IVs and setting me up for a heart monitor. It had been some time since I had had another episode of pain, the adrenaline of the past 15 minutes having numbed me I suppose.

Dave returned having spoken to Heather, my best friend who was on her way to the hospital. The plan being she would return to our house with Cole and remain there until Dave could come home. He had also notified my parents. I was scared about what was going on and waiting on the surgeon to arrive to understand what the protocol was to be. I began to feel sweaty and faint again and knew another flood of pain was on its way. This time seemed different from all the others though. The OB surgeon popped in already dressed in scrubs. She quickly reiterated my diagnosis and the need to move me into the OR quickly. I was having trouble with this bout of pain and she noticed as she continued to speak with us. The nurse was still setting up IV lines and had yet to get the morphine drip going. I remember the OB surgeon saying I didn't look good. I remember saying how much it hurt and looking down willing myself to breathe through the pain. I remember looking at Dave and then finding myself unable to utter another word. Then according to Dave everything went downhill.

In the period of time from when I had my ultrasound to then, probably 40 minutes tops, the ectopic ruptured and I began to hemorrhage. My body went into hypovolemic shock. My heart rate plummeted, my blood pressure dropped dangerously low, I was in and out of consciousness...I vaguely recall the sudden activity in the room but I have no further recollection until I was being raced out of the ER. The drugs kicked in by the time we got to PRE-OP and I was panicking because I could not feel my extremities. "Why can't I feel my feet? I asked repeatedly. A nurse's face came into view and she calmly said, "listen, I need you to take deep breaths, you are in shock and I need you to work with me so we can stabilize you, we will take care of you but you are critical condition and we need to get you into the OR as soon as we can". The anesthesiologist arrived and I heard the nurses say "we need a few more minutes", not completing understanding at the time, that that was because they were concerned I was not stable enough for surgery. I was becoming more aware and lucid as the morphine coursed through my body allowing me to grasp the enormity of what had occurred in the past 1/2 hour. The ectopic had ruptured, the baby was no more. Now my life was at risk. However, my brain must have decided to over ride my emotional core as it switched to concentrating on the mundane instead of trying to digest the magnitude of the situation. I began saying "I'm wearing contacts, don't forget to take out my contacts" and "where will my jewelry go?" I remember being oddly calm, almost conversational. The surgeon came and walked me through what the surgery would entail. Based on what they saw on the ultrasound (and what was typical with ectopics) they would be doing a laprascopic procedure which would take about 30 minutes or so. I would be staying overnight.

They brought me into the OR. The last time I was in an OR was when Cole was delivered by emergency c-section. The bright round overhead lights, the "whiteness" of the walls, the sheets, the drapes...the soft voices of the nurses who offered their condolences...the awkwardness as they moved me off the gurney to the OR table...the smell of the plastic as the mask went over my face...it didn't feel like me this was happening too, it felt like I was a witness experiencing something for someone else...

I woke up dry-mouthed and groggy and wrapped up like a newborn. The same nurse hovered nearby and must have been watching for me to awake. She came over and began talking to me and initially it sounded all garbled. I couldn't shake the heaviness I felt. My memories here are foggy but I do remember being startled and beginning to cry when she told me that because of the amount of bleeding and the rare location of the ectopic, that the surgeon did need to open me up and go through my c-section scar. I had had unexpected major abdominal surgery along with a very high blood loss. They were still unsure whether I would require a blood transfusion but they would be monitoring me closely. I don't recall much else.

I was reunited with Dave and Heather somewhere, I think on my way out of recovery and came to find out that I had been in surgery for over two hours. Dave had taken Cole home, put him to bed because he refused to go with Heather. Our neighbor Jesse came over to stay with Cole and Dave returned to the hospital. Heather was frantic because no one had come out to tell her about the severity of my bleeding or that they had to open me up to save me. She finally found her way to a nurse's station and requested about my status. It was late on a Sunday evening and thus there were few people around. The person she found ended up being my surgeon. The doctor explained in detail about the ectopic being in a rare and dangerous location which when it ruptured had perforated my uterus, the fallopian tube was saved because the rupture occurred where the uterus/tube meet and the hole was created down in the uterus instead of up in the tube. They had to repair the hole and manage the hemorrhaging. I would be fine but I had lost a great deal of blood. They wanted to avoid a transfusion if possible because I was otherwise healthy and a transfusion could possibly become an issue should I ever get pregnant again. The consequences on the body of such trauma would take quite some time to mend. But I was alive...

I managed to get out of the house and into the car though I distinctly remember thinking, "is this a mistake, should we have called 911"? because when the pain/nausea circled back each time I was having difficulty staying conscious. I have endured multiple kidney stones, migraines and almost 3 hours of pushing during Cole's delivery (only to end up with an emergency C-section) and what I was currently experiencing was truly off the charts. I was scared and trying to focus and breathe, two things that were becoming increasingly difficult.

There is a hospital within a mile of our house but it does not have a good reputation. As we exited our neighborhood, Dave was having to make a decision about where to take me...Methodist would be quicker but I was holding my own and if I could make it to Abbott Northwestern I would be in better hands should something be seriously wrong. We knew something wasn't right of course but I said to myself "let me get there and I'll gladly pay the $100 co-pay to have them tell me that all I have is bad gas".

With my head down willing us to pull up to the ER Batman style, Dave deftly managed the drive, taking backroads to avoid the numerous traffic lights as often as he could. Cole was chattering away in the back seat, not unaware that mommy was sick but innocently indifferent about how sick his mommy was.

Luck would have it that we arrived at the hospital during a Vikings football game. We were the only ones in the ER! The triage nurse took us immediately. I was answering her questions but began to cry as I took in the gravity of how I felt, where we were and processed the possible seriousness of why I was there. In my previous post I failed to mention that because I was not bleeding, I truly did not think that all of this hoopla had anything to do with the baby HOWEVER as I had laid in the hallway earlier dealing with that very first wave of nausea, I said to Dave out of the blue "can you google the symptoms of an ectopic pregnancy?" Dave did not even know what that was and when he returned to share the list, nothing jumped out at me as relating to what I was feeling other than the general litany of maladies which are attributable to hundreds of diagnoses.

I was wheelchaired back to a room because of my almost inability to stand. The ER nurse came in and we reiterated our reason for being there. We all laughed when he hesitated as he was reconfirming what the triage nurse had entered into the computer but he had to ask as it listed allergy: pregnancy (not penicillin like I had stated). Just one more twist of foreshadowing as the evening's events played out.

The ER doc then came in reviewed my case notes. He was concerned about the sudden acute onset of symptoms and mentioned the possibility of an ectopic despite my now more conscious attempt at veering the situation towards an intestinal issue. I could feel my anxiety grow as what I had previously dismissed following Dave's listing of warning signals could actually be the cause of why I was here. During our discussion with the doctor, I began having a wave of pain and he asked if I wanted something to temper that. I refused obviously because I was pregnant. I remember him pausing and looking at me almost as if he already knew what my outcome was to be. He attempted to persuade me again to allow for some medication and again I declined.

The doc wanted to send me for an ultrasound to rule out the ectopic and at that point I could feel any resolve I had left slowly beginning to break. They wheeled me alone down the quiet, cool hallways to the ultrasound room where an older gentleman explained what he would be doing. The sounds that the wand made moving around taking measurements actually calmed me down as it brought good memories of the numerous sonograms I had during my pregnancy with Cole. The technician took the time to describe in detail what he was doing as he made his way around my reproductive system. I heard my own heartbeat which he confirmed. About 10 minutes into the exam the tech had gotten quiet which had put me on alert "why wasn't he describing things to me anymore?". I could sense his demeanor had changed, it felt almost palpable. Five more minutes elapsed into the exam which was seeming to go on forever and then I heard it distinctly, I detected the rapid heartbeat of the baby and blurted out "that is the baby's heart beating" more of a statement than a question. He turned and glanced at me and said "no that was your heartbeat again". I knew he was lying because I knew the baby's heart rate was at least double mine and at that point as I lay there, I knew something was very very wrong. As I let that knowledge sink in, I also realized he had turned down the sound on the ultrasound machine as the room had grown almost completely quiet.

Stay tuned for the final two posts...it is taking me some time to write my memories down not because they have faded but because they are still so raw...

Always remember that life can change on a dime...

It has taken me about a month to be able to collect my thoughts enough to sit down and journal the events that have transpired since I last blogged. I am not sure where or how to begin to chronicle my continuous jumble of emotions or to make sense out of the chaos in my mind but I figure as words have provided solace in the past, maybe they will offer to mollify some of my heartache.

It is always a strange feeling when life changes on a dime because the equilibrium that one precariously perches on to balance their everyday is knocked off its controlled teeter totter. It is nearly impossible to find an adequate analogy that any drastic and instant shock to every aspect of your life can best be described as but I think being thrown unexpectedly blindfolded onto a highway and asked to find your way to safety comes as close as I can find.

On January 17 my world as I knew it came dangerously close to becoming but a memory.

That day started off as it typically does for the Denhams on a Sunday morning. Lounging around in pajamas, Cole and I had burrowed under blankets watching PBS kids. (It was chilly in our finished basement as despite the heat being set at 68 it was no competition to the subzero temperatures that lurked around and pressed in on our house from the outside looking for every crack and crevice to invade).

Since Cole doesn't sit for more than 10 minutes at a time, we also crashed cars, derailed trains, raced trucks and bulldozed blocks. Dave was out running to train for his April marathon. He prefers to run outside than deal with the monotony of a treadmill though even I thought he was a bit loony to be running in this kind of weather. The day continued as "normal"...Dave came home frozen like a popsicle, showered up and was now multi-tasking enjoying his attempt to read the Sunday newspaper and indulge Cole's pleas to play at the same time. I had sent out few emails, worked on our new budget sheet, downloaded some pictures and folded some laundry.

Two things were different about that particular Sunday; first, Cole had just gotten over a bad stomach bug the end of that week. In his three years, he has maybe thrown up mildly twice. Dave and I were at a loss when he retched again and again; piles of sheets/duvets/blankets/clothes we had gone through, poor kiddo didn't know what was going on and was weak and without appetite for a few days. Second, I was 7 weeks pregnant and terribly concerned that I too would get his tummy ails but I had been crossing my fingers and hoping to avoid the misery that my little guy had mustered through.

We had found out our "news" on my birthday all but three weeks earlier. I was late and very "regular" with my cycles. We had been trying for months and bottom line I just had a feeling but I waited until the expected didn't occur. Sure enough, two lines confirmed that sperm had met egg! YEAH! We celebrated more than just my birthday that evening knowing that our lives were on the path to CHANGE! I knew being three year older that it was probably wise to remain relatively hush-hush but the excitement for us was palpable so of course I shared with my inner circle of friends and family. Unlike my pregnancy with Cole where I got silly tired and crazy sick at six weeks and remained so until almost fourteen weeks, I seemed to be free of nausea and fatigue which actually made me uneasy. I remarked on this to several people who said that their pregnancies were unlike the other. This placated me to a degree as I was hoping I would be blessed with an easy 10 months since my first go felt more like an unending marathon.

My initial OB/baby check appointment was scheduled for January 26. I had taken two additional pregnancy tests which came up faster and bluer each time so I had to take comfort viewing those and wait until my HCG levels in the lab supported what the over the counter Target version was telling me!

Back to that Sunday... anyone who knows me well, knows I don't really lounge around much, I am a worker bee and between intervals entertaining Cole, I was up, down and all around the house as usual. On probably the 19th trip that day coming up the basement stairs, I literally in the 10 seconds from bottom step to top step, felt this overwhelming wave of nausea...I thought "here we go", I asked for this and here it is...by the time I made it through the kitchen, I thought I was going to pass out, so I literally laid down in the hallway on the runner and weakly called for Dave...I was having trouble focusing and had what I can best explain as the "spins"...I was hot and sweaty and cold and clammy all at the same time, so I began thinking, "great, I got Cole's GI bug"...I managed to crawl into the bathroom, I was terribly nauseated and had what felt like gas cramps, so I just hung out on the bathroom floor for a time...after what felt like the longest 20 minutes the "spins" began to ease off...

I shakily made my way upstairs to bed and though the cramps and the dizziness remained they had retreated enough in intensity that I was able to eventually fall asleep. Two hours or so later I awoke feeling like I had been mowed over by a freight train but not feeling nearly as ill as I had earlier. I wandered downstairs and cuddled with Cole on the couch. I had startled myself as I walked by the mirror into our family room, I looked like Casper the ghost but I was assuming that indeed I contracted Cole's tummy bug and knew there was probably more spasms/episodes to come.

Not even 30 minutes later, I could feel the same wave coming back but with a greater intensity. I made it to the bathroom again, thinking I was going to throw up and have some serious tummy trouble at the same time. At this point, my mind was racing telling me this was more serious than I had previously thought. I began struggling to stay upright, every movement became an effort. My color had turned gray and I knew I had to get to the ER. Dave was remaining calm but I could see the anxiety in his face never having seen me like this. Like before, the cramps/wooziness were easing off and I wanted to take this opportunity to get to the car. Dave packed up himself and Cole having no true idea what exactly to bring. He knew the essentials but to plan for the unknown is very difficult especially under duress. I had workout clothes on as I was planning on going to the gym before this all occurred. There was no way I could even think of changing, I was blinking to steady myself and I kept muttering "what the heck is wrong with me"...I was beginning to panic which wasn't helping. The surge of nausea, abdominal pain and faintness returned suddenly and we came close to calling an ambulance but I was determined to get there without the fanfare.

To be continued since it is just too much for one post...

My personal safety officer...

When we lived in DC, we parked our one and only car behind our brownstone in the tightest driveway imaginable. You had to pull in at the right angle EVERY time or you potentially could scrap the right side of the vehicle along the concrete retaining wall. Because we lived in "da hood" we also had a gate that had to be opened each time you pulled into the alley before we could park (and then that had to be manually closed as well each time). It was such a pain in the arse especially in bad weather but we were lucky to have purchased a home 11 blocks from the Capital WITH off street parking, so we got used to it. It became a habit to take off my seatbelt as I pulled behind our house so I could run out to open the fence.

We moved to Minnesota almost three years ago but my "driveway" mentality remained. We live within a mile of the city limits and thus our neighborhood layout is similar to those downtown. Houses face the street but access to mostly detached garages is around back in the alleyway. Everytime I pull off the street, I unconsciously release my seatbelt despite having a two car garage with an opener and no fence/gate to rush out to move.

Out of the blue earlier this month as I turned into our alley (and took off my seatbelt) a stern and reproachful voice from the backseat says "Mommy, you not take that off until you are in the garage and safe". I turned to look at him as the garage door lifted and stifled a laugh because he was right. I said "You are right Cole, I will keep my seatbelt on next time until the car has stopped in the garage". He nodded looking at me pleased. Of course, the next week and a half I kept forgetting and he kept reminding me with an increasing annoyance in his tone.

He has broken me of my "bad" habit for the most part, I have slipped a few times and I cringe as I realize that I have acted before thinking. Sure enough he notices and I swear I have heard him sigh as he points out my poor action. I only hope as he grows up that his concern for my seatbelt safety continues as well as for his own.

It is all about the snacks...

We have a standing Monday afternoon playdate with many of Cole's friends at our house each week. He gets very excited each Monday morning as typically when I get him dressed, we talk about what we will be doing that day. He rarely forgets what I say so if we haven't done something or gone somewhere or something hasn't occurred yet that I mentioned then by 4pm he is peppering me with queries. It amazes me that he goes all day with that information processing in his little head like a check-off list of sorts.

On Mondays he knows that his buddies are coming AFTER naptime and I bolded AFTER because for awhile ALL day (and by all day, every 15 minutes), he would be inquiring about when his friends were coming. After what seemed like forever emphasizing the preposition AFTER, Cole finally made the realization that playdate was truly a post-nap event!

He and I normally make bread, muffins or some sort of treat each week along with providing fruit to share with our friends during playtime. I involve him with the setup each week, he helps put out napkins and plates and helps me carry the food down to the playroom.

Recently, he has begun literally popping up from his nap on Monday and immediately says still groggy with warm damp hair pressing against his forehead..."Mom, Mom, we have to get out our snacks for our friends...hurry...hurry, they are coming". He is so insistent and so with an agenda that despite the fact that we are at least 40 minutes out from our first arrival, he wants to be READY. I don't know if it is a blessing or a curse that he has acquired his mother's inclination to be prepared way ahead of schedule!

So we set up our playroom area, put on some music, secure Tucker in a bedroom (with 6-7 pre-schoolers around, Tucker is better off in a safe place) and bring out our snacks. With a happy grin on his face, he'll say "Okay friends, you can come now"!. It makes me laugh out loud at his absolute adorableness!

We then open the curtains on the big picture window and sit on the couch watching for our friend's cars to pull up. He knows the "mommy cars" (meaning who drives what) which is just mind-bending to me. He then goes into a frenzy running back and forth as whoever arrives first takes the 20 minutes to unwrap themselves from the 50 layers of clothing it takes to venture out here in Minnesota in the wintertime.

Funny thing is that the kids come in and immediately begin asking for snacks and Cole happily obliges in showing them where they can be found. He is like a proud peacock leading his 3 year old peers downstairs for snacks. I am not sure why he has fixated on the snack thing but it sure is cute to watch unfold each week. Who knows maybe he'll grow up to be a restaurateur!?

Too much TV...but

I have always been particular about what Cole watches on TV. Back in my pre-parenting days, I was one of those who said I wouldn't use TV as a babysitter...well, any parent knows how difficult that concept is to keep to in reality...hence, PBS kids or commercial free Noggin are the two channels I will let Cole watch as I clean, shower or attend to email.

He loves Dinosaur Train, Bob the Builder, Wonder Pets, Dora, Max & Ruby and Franklin. Cole can sing the opening songs to any of them and name the characters (he is the first to correct me too when I identify someone incorrectly). Cole gets very upset when Dave and I watch anything else, "I can't watch the news" he groans and whines with such angst. In all honesty, I can sympathize with him in part since the news is less than uplifting 99% of the time.

Anyway, the other day while Cole was playing without the TV on, running back and forth and being the boy that he is, in a state of constant motion, my second kid Tucker was attempting to find a spot away from Cole's activity where he was safe from sudden and quick movements. He does love to sleep on the couch laying on our throws and pillows or Cole's blankets. It upsets Cole when it is something of his because he can't dislodge the article once Tucker settles in. Anyway, Tucker innocently was just being himself and was about to circle around and plop down on Cole's fav blue blanket. Cole in a very shrill voice shrieks, Tucker no swiping, Tucker no swiping...and pulls the blanket out before poor Tucker could lay down. I started laughing...I guess Cole is absorbing a little too much of Dora the Explorer dialogue. However to soften the guilt I feel due to this obvious overindulgence of TV time, he did count to ten in Spanish the other day to my astonishment so I figure he is indeed thankfully learning something from his time in front of the screen.

Happy Third Birthday Pickle!

I remember vividly my first night post-delivery with Cole...Dave had gone home to get some sleep and pick up Tucker from our friends. It was the wee hours of the night and the nurses kept bringing me Cole every 90 minutes or so because he was fussing. He had jaundice so he was attached to the biliblankets making it all the more difficult to maneuver to nurse him while recovering from my C-section. I couldn't get out of bed without quite a bit of cursing and grunting and yet my calls to the nursing station went unanswered so I managed to get myself sideways on the bed holding Cole with one arm, bracing myself on the bed rails, praying I would be able to lift Cole into his bassinet so I could rest. By the time I nursed and they finally came to take him back to the nursery, 90 minutes had almost passed. It was like living in the twilight zone, my mind and body exhausted from labor and now struggling with mending from major surgery. And yet, as much as I dreaded the door opening again on the heels of just moments of sleep, I eagerly (and anxiously) anticipated Cole's return to my arms even more.

Moments of three years ago are etched in my memory. Some more faded than others. However I do vividly recall the first time I called him Pickle. That very same night, alone with him I remember looking at his wrinkled up nose, bruised noggin and puckered lips, he looked like a pickle and hence his nickname was born. I have called him that consistently ever since.

Happy Third Birthday Cole! You will ALWAYS be my little pickle!

My little farmer...

Dave and I have said many times, that Cole has much of his great-grandfather Roger in him. Much like Roger's schedule, Cole has operated on farmer's hours since day one. Three years into his life, he is still an early riser, ready and wanting to play literally from the moment he lifts his head. To see him is like watching someone turn on the switch from a battery-run toy. There is no gradual wake up period, no ease from warm covers or a groggy morning mood, he is up like a shot. He comes bounding into our room every morning and despite our futile attempts to get him to snuggle down for just 30 more minutes, he gives us about 10 minutes to catch up with his chipper morning state. "Come on MOMMY, open your eyes", "Come on Daddy, wake up". He turns on the lights and races around in a frenzy until we finally give in (or give up)!

With his internal clock rising between 5-5:30 am, it is plenty dark this time of year. He recently asked on a cold dark November morning "where is the sun". I replied "the sun is still sleeping, it is not ready to wake up yet, it is too early". With a hearty laugh, Cole says "no its not".

...get up and try again...

Cole has entered the stage of pretend play and it such a joy to listen in and watch from afar. He animatedly talks to his trains as he strings them along on his track, through his set's tunnels and over its bridges. He loves to attempt to put them all together in one long unit and take the tight turns without having them fall over. He knows to slow down but often they still teeter and totter and derail nonetheless. Eight times out of ten he says "Oh NO, they crashed", the other two out of ten times and typically late in the day when his mood is less willing to accept frustrations, he'll scatter the trains in a fit (which I totally feel like doing myself some days when things don't go my way).

Anyway, this morning as he played within earshot of my desk, I heard the trains fall over and him exclaim "Oh no, Thomas you fell...are you okay...get up and try again"...I just about fell off my chair, as those are the exact words (insert Cole for Thomas) that I have used for a long time now when Cole has fallen (at the playground, in the house, in the yard...) I inched my way to his playroom door as he righted his trains and took another go at that tricky curve. He maneuvered them adeptly this time and let them coast down the hill, a huge smile erupting on his face. He then said "see Thomas we did it", he was so proud of himself and so was I.

Ole King Cole...

Ole King Cole (aka The little Prince) was not quite a very merry soul...just shy of three, he didn't enjoy much getting into some get up with a shiny hat...only because I coaxed him with PEZ candy was I able to get him to keep the crown on for pictures...then he forgot about it for a time, only to throw it off once he remembered it again...trying to reason with a pre-schooler about anything out of the norm is an exercise in futility...trying to explain that he must ring the doorbells of strangers, smile, say Trick or Treat, get candy from said strangers, say thank you and venture on happily to the next strange house isn't exactly a task any parent should find a breeze to do just way too many things to ask of a little guy...Cole has had stranger anxiety since birth and here we are as parents asking him to be cute and polite while staring at people he has never seen before...oh well, there is always next year...

Go Forth and Sing No More

Since the night Cole was born, I have sung to him...I have never ever had a very good voice, but for the past 2.5 years, my significantly off-key style suited my little guy just fine. It was the ONLY thing that calmed him during 4 months of colic, restless nursing sessions, during emotional meltdowns, at bedtime as he turned and tossed to settle down, through sicknesses, while in the hospital, and in the recovery room after his surgery. My belting a tune also made him smile during happier everyday occasions like while running errands, driving to and from school, or puttering around the house...I have 80 or so songs on my IPOD that are varying versions of children's classics, ones I know every verse to and that have more playtime than my workout mixes (LOL).

The fact that my inner songstress made my kiddo feel good did wonders for my motherly ego especially when none of my other maternal tools would work. It was a blast when he began singing with me as we belted out DOWN BY THE STATION together.

However, recently Cole has issued me a cease and desist order...anytime I begin singing now, he firmly says, "No Mommy, no singing, Stop...". If I defy his request, he vehemently covers his ears and begins repeating "stop it, stop singing" and runs from the room (if he can).

Another phase, one I cherished for the past 1035 days or so has been shelved. In my life pre-Cole I was extremely reticent about singing in public even in college after imbibing too much and I have never been talked into joining a group at a party when the karaoke machine came out as I knew then I'd never be in tune but motherhood gave me bravado and an opportunity to see if the sound of my voice (out of tune or not) could provide a state of calm for my little guy. Obviously I have not improved my abilities over the course of his life and he is able to now tell me so...This mothering thing is hard on one's ego...I can't wait until he points out the "lines" around my eyes...

The "power" of a pre-schooler....

Cole has a dislike of the wind...he always has...he would squirm in his stroller as an infant/toddler if a strong breeze blew his way and contort his face as if he was being tortured...more recently over the past 5 months he has balked at having the windows open in the car because the wind ruffles his hair which makes him agitated instead of relaxing him as it does the rest of us especially since our season of having open windows is so brief...so we are out walking Tucker tonight with a brisk wind stirring up what is left of the swirling leaves, Cole had been complaining for the 15 minutes we had been walking about the wind and thus walking backwards to avoid it (smart kid but it was slowing us down immensely) and finally he had had enough, he began yelling loudly...NO MORE, STOP WIND...as if a switch had been flipped, the wind ceased...it gave me goose bumps...it was as if a higher order granted the request of my son if only for a short time...without missing a beat, Cole said "thank you wind"...as we turned the corner, the winds picked back up and gusted back to their aforementioned speed and the whining began again but my goose bumps remained the entire rest of our walk...