They say you have less regrets in life when you acknowledge the milestones, that is, the passing of time. So here we are, about to send our first born off into the public school system, and it’s feeling like a pretty big milestone after staying home with him for five years. There are many transformative experiences in life, but few as life changing as becoming a mother. I didn’t intend to be a SAHM, but I was laid off from a job (I didn’t like very much) a week after I found out I was pregnant. And it couldn’t have been a bigger blessing. For me, it wasn’t appealing to raise a family as a traveling geologist, living in hotels and spending my son’s childhood alone in cheap hotel rooms in other states, while someone else got to make play dough animals and finger paint with him. So we moved to a home that was more amenable to teaching harp lessons from home, with a sunny front room studio and French Doors. I had taught for years, but traveling for work made it difficult to maintain a teaching studio. Now, I could. While pregnant and geology consulting from home, I put time into optimizing my website for teaching and improving my internet presence to attract freelance harp work (it turns out the beautiful Colorado Rockies are a destination for weddings and corporate events and freelance harp work is for the taking. Who knew).
Our First Born Then our son was born. Actually, I labored for 30 hours induced by pitocin and no pain meds for the first 15 hours 8 days after my due date. When he refused to even drop a little and he had stopped moving for hours, my pediatrician was pro-active, concerned he was losing oxygen and or had passed meconium. I asked for the epidural, and she said to my husband “Get your scrubs on. You’re going to be a father in 20 minutes”.) Via C-section, our blue eyed, blond haired beauty came into this world. Four days later, we went home, shocked that the nurses just let us take this helpless being home with us, without any supervision. My husband passed out for a day. Our husky guarded the bassinet. Our son slept like a charm. I sat, wide-eyed, beginning the first of my ever-present sleepless nights.
The Pregnancy
In the ultrasound, they had seen calcium on his heart, which had triggered a detailed 3D rendering ultrasound of our little man, the concern being he might have Down Syndrome. Five years earlier, it had been calcium on my mammogram that had resulted in a biopsy showing cancer. At 28, I had bilateral mastectomies and gave up my opportunity to breast feed, but increased my chances of living to become a mother. It was a stressful nauseating pregnancy, and almost wrecked my hips. It most certainly wrecked my back when one day, two weeks from my due date, I was bending over and my whole back went into spasm. I collapsed and could not stand. I crawled down the stairs and fortunately my phone was on our couch and I could reach it. I called my husband and he rushed home, asking if I’d fallen on the baby. I had not. He then helped me get in and out of bed for weeks, taking time off work to care for us.
Love and Fear: Mishaps in Parenting This was not the first time we had feared for our child. I was only two months pregnant when we took our pre-planned trip to bike around Cuba for a few weeks. In only a few days I contracted dysentery, and I became immobile after losing so much water after two days. A Cuban doctor came to the house and prescribed some unknown drugs. He then called in a woman off the street in cutoff jeans carrying a plastic bag of syringes and she injected some drugs we couldn’t identify because the writing was in Chinese. A day later I was mostly better. We spent the rest of the trip seeking out air conditioning, bottled water, and public beaches, of which there were few. Then there were the mishaps, aka low parenting moments. At one, he pulled a boiling cup of tea down his face and chest. I was home alone and layers of skin had already blistered. He was howling in pain. I was sure he was maimed for life. We didn’t have any aloe, so I ran his little body under cold water, while reading WebMd on my phone. It said don’t run really cold water over burns, or your child could get hypothermic. I held a cold towel over his burns. My husband came home shortly after to find us both rocking and crying. After the scabs healed, he somehow escaped un-scarred. When he was 5 months old, I finished the breast reconstruction I’d started at 28. With more surgeries I could not lift my son for 6 weeks. Friends and family came to help, while I could only sit on the floor and smile at him. It proved to be a blessing that I could share the bottle feeding with my husband and others. Friends provided breast milk, and between that and some very expensive formula, he thrived. Then at one and a half he managed to hold his hand on the screen covering the glass protecting the fake fire for just long enough to blister his whole hand while my husband sat a foot away. We thought it wasn’t possible, but after 100 tries, he finally was successful. He is a focused child, and later a friend said she’d never encountered a child who so patiently asked the same question over and over until he got an acceptable answer. He is always learning. We pulled him in the chariot on our bikes all over town. One day, I was crossing a busy road and looked back. He was no longer attached to my bike, and was sitting in his chariot in the middle of the road. There were no cars coming. We dodged a bullet. When he learned to ride a Strider, we had a momentary lapse in judgement, and took him for a ride around the neighborhood. We thought we would get onto the safe paved off-road trail for him to explore a new area. The hill we had to go down to access it seemed low enough grade, if you have brakes. Our son rode so well, we forgot he didn’t have anything but his feet to drag to stop. He cracked his helmet when he fell. We went straight home and gave him a giant ice cream. We had to do better. But then, after our second son was born and I was walking the baby in the stroller while the older son rode his bike, I watched as he approached a gardener with a wheelbarrow on the trail and, unable to stop, went careening off the trail into a gully. I slammed the brakes down on the stroller and ran to help him. When I looked back, the stroller was rolling down into the gully. I realized I had no control over protecting either child in that moment. The older son landed in tall grass, and the baby stopped in a shallow stream, still strapped in his stroller. We avoided all hills then for a while until our son could do all the things: ride, stop, start, and slow down on a whim, or if there was a wheelbarrow in the way. At three, he was excited to see his grandparents, and as they were unloading and the car trunk door was open, our little jumping bean jumped right into the trunk door lock, splitting his head open. With blood gushing over my hands, we raced to get a cloth to keep pressure on his wound, and we drove to the emergency clinic where he was very proud to get eight stables in his head.
Blue and Blue-Eyed Babies I did not expect to birth two blue-eyed babies, and I did not wish for boys or girls, I only wished they were healthy. I have since learned a lot about Blue. It wasn’t always the color for baby boys. Pink was in favor for a time, it being considered a passionate strong color. Of course, having the second child was insightful and we learned they come with their own personalities, passions, and talents regardless of gender or parenting. But having brown eyes myself, the blue eyes and three layers of eyelashes of our oldest son are mesmerizing, and I’ve developed an appreciation for the color. Blue lies between violet and green on the spectrum of visible light. Most blues contain fragments of other colors; azure contains some green, while ultramarine contains some violet. The clear daytime sky and the deep sea appear blue because of an optical effect known as Rayleigh scattering. An optical effect called Tyndall scattering explains blue eyes. A quick internet search indicates blue has been an important color in art and decoration since ancient times. The semi-precious stone lapis lazuli was used in ancient Egypt for jewellery and later during the Renaissance, to make the pigment ultramarine, the most expensive of all pigments. In the Eighth century Chinese artists used cobalt blue to color fine blue and white porcelain. Coincidentally, both my grandmothers and my mother have loved blue China.
A further Wikipedia search on “Blue” reveals in the Middle Ages European artists used it in the windows of cathedrals. Europeans wore clothing colored with the vegetable dye woad until it was replaced by the finer indigo from America. In the 19th century, synthetic blue dyes and pigments gradually replaced mineral pigments. Dark blue became a common color for military uniforms and later, in the 20th century, for business suits. Because blue has commonly been associated with harmony, it was chosen as the color of the flags of the United Nations and the European Union. Surveys in the US and Europe show that blue is the color most commonly associated with harmony, faithfulness, confidence, distance, infinity, the imagination, cold, and sometimes with sadness, the full spectrum of human experiences. It was also the color most associated with the masculine, and with intelligence, knowledge, calm and concentration. If I had birthed girls, I would have wished for them all of these qualities and experiences, and as we had boys, I wish for them the same, regardless of what color they choose to wear. Some of our most precious moments together were in my harp room, wheedling away on various instruments, playing with a baby in one arm, singing together, or practicing separately, me my songs for performances and them their affinity for play. As such, to capture these idle hours of play, we will have a photo taken in Autumn, the season of change, with the boys, the harp, and their mother in a field in a dress of deep blue, hopefully to represent the strength we share.
Our Last Born When our second son was born three years later, we knew how to change a diaper. We knew how to swaddle, which he rejected immediately. We knew how to hold a newborn. We had aloe and bandaids in the house. He was a 10 pound whopper, and my water broke a week early while I sat uncomfortably on my couch at home alone. I thought I’d peed myself. Then I saw all the blood. I gathered an overnight bag, while shuffling around with a towel between my legs (not recommended), let our sitter know we would not be able to pick up our son, and drove myself to the hospital. I had been more anxious about this pregnancy, because I was a mother now and had to protect my son, both sons. My husband biked the 16 miles home, drove the 45 min to the hospital, and barely arrived in time to see the fat baby decorated in rolls pulled out in a second C-section. His head was so large, it took him almost a year and a half to walk, and even after, he continued to be a clumsy bumsy, and a true joy to be around. By one, he woke with a smile, a song, and babbling chatter that still continues throughout the day. When our first son, who had me all to himself for three years to explore parks, visit museums, collect leaves, decorate with pastel drawings for every holiday, garden until sunset, goes to kindergarten in two days, the baby boy will have his time.
Adventuring as a Couple Since we had met rock climbing, my husband and I needed to maintain that adventurous part of ourselves and our relationship. But when we went on vacations with friends and family, we found we just switched off getting out to bike, climb or ski to get a break from the kids. We were lonely, and it was hard to stay connected without doing anything together aside from making meals and wiping baby butts. We found a wonderful sitter who could care for our son on Fridays, and we started Friday date days, as my husband worked four 10 hour days and had Fridays off. We started adventuring again, and it helped balance the daily laboring with a weekly unknown adventure to anticipate together.
Brothers, Best Friends, Family Soon our sons played together, and the older protected his baby brother. They are now best friends, and have enjoyed two years together exploring trails, nature centers, swimming, skiing, scrambling, and greeting each new day with zeal for the adventure the day might hold. The baby forcefully tells other boys he is “my Bubba” and I hope it is always so. He will not understand why his brother isn’t there to play with him most of each day, but our little one will learn to entertain himself, and become absorbed in projects he never was able to focus on, and the older, who loves to design and built architectural wonders, will be challenged and his sense of wonder will be fed with new knowledge at our colorful elementary school where dedicated teachers not only improve understanding but character. And as my parents have moved to Colorado, the boys have had this special time with them, and will continue, as we all create a strong family circle around them. And more than ever, I can understand all my mother and father endured for love, and I can respect and appreciate all their efforts and sacrifices in caring for and loving me.
Becoming a Little Human
They learn so much just in the doing, and it amazed me to see how he taught himself how to be a little human through his senses. He recognized our faces and voices and immediately latched onto a bottle. Though he’d never breast fed, he later tried to latch on to my nipple. H learned to lift his head, and laugh, and roll over, and crawl. He tried new foods, he learned to use a spoon then a cup, he tried to make new sounds. He walked, he ran, he climbed to the top of the play structure and got brave enough to slide down. He learned to bike and ski and to bend his knees on the hills and pizza pie his skis to slow down. He learned not to put his fingers in doorway cracks or drawers as they are closing or in his mouth as he bit down. He learned to hold a crayon, a paintbrush, and to write his name. He asked about the meaning of each new word. After watching the other kids do yoga, he tried it in the corner on his own. He did not trust any care providers or preschool teachers until they proved themselves to be reliable. He learned to use people’s names to get what he needed. He learned to skip, and jump, and hold his breath and kick his feet to get across the pool. He learned to dress himself and put his own shoes on the right feet and use the big boy potty and pack his own lunch. He marveled at nature, and the garden and hiking trails offered lessons every day.
He learned to slow down, take breaks, and assess risky situations and others, like throwing himself into the gymnastics pit, where he could live with reckless abandon. He learned to hug and kiss and say Momma and Dada and to sing songs and to say sorry and to notice when a person is sad. He learned to design his own block towers, and LEGO creations and watercolor paintings. He learned how to make a new friend, how to introduce himself, how to listen to a story, how to be a good friend. He learned to count and write letters, and tell jokes. He learned how routines like slow breakfasts, morning activities, and naps and bedtime stories, and being rocked by Emie and going on outings with PaPa could be so nourishing. He learned to make his bed. He learned to scream to get what he needed, then to say please and be patient. He learned to be a kind sharing thoughtful older brother and to play and be silly. All these things he taught himself with a serious drive and focus on each challenge, and with the support and encouragement of family and friends and caregivers, he succeeded. He developed the self confidence to walk into his first day at his new school and meet his new teacher and look her in the eye without crying, a first. I did all the crying for us both.
Regrets and What I Wouldn't Give Back
As our first born walks through the doors of his next phase of life, and I through mine, I will have my regrets. I will wish I had been a less distracted parent. I will wish I hadn’t smacked him when he spit in my face at three. I lumbered around as a grumpy pregnant mother, short tempered and unable to bend over to put his shoes on and he became independent out of necessity. I lost my temper so regularly that first year his brother was born, he sidled up to me unsure of how I would react, then he spent more time entertaining himself to avoid vexing me. Despite that I will be undergoing hip surgery after all the body strain of pregnancies, I would not change my son or these years. Now I see all his talents, his pursuits, his bravery, his empathy, his thoughtfulness, his kindness, his intelligence, his vocabulary, his curiosity, his efforts to understand the world and us, were lessons that will never leave me, and I hope to be better. Thank you my son, my beautiful boy.
My Wishes
At his preschool graduation, our son announced he would be a fireman when he grew up, and after rocking him through sleepless sick nights, after celebrating his joy in discovery, and seeing his personality develop from unsure and tentative, to willing to try new things, having committed to and enjoyed his many wanderings, I am so curious to learn who he will become. But as there is no love more deep and fulfilling and yet guilt ridden and painfully complicated than that for your own child, I hope only that he will always find contentment, and will remember these years with gratitude, as I always will. All the days in the sunshine, the grass, the water, and the sand will never be forgotten. A blessing is what I wish for our first born: I Wish you Enough, Bob Perks I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright. I wish you enough rain, to appreciate the sun more. I wish you enough happiness, to keep your spirit alive. I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear much bigger. I wish you enough gain, to satisfy your wanting. I wish you enough loss, to appreciate all that you possess. I wish you enough Hellos, to get you through the final Goodbye.