On a recent outing to the National Zoo, I offered to buy a toy for my son.
He likes stuffed animals and immediately was attracted to a very cute
stuffed eagle. But the little eagle was quickly passed over in favor of a
red, yellow and black hard plastic snake that is at least 2 feet long. For
2 days he slept with it, talked to it, carried it around and then put him
in the car to “ride with us to school.” 

The snake is still there. His name is Snakey. He’s in the backseat. I decided to leave him there as a security measure. Any would-be carjackers might think twice upon seeing the surprisingly realistic looking Snakey in the backseat. 

Life with a boy.

I grew up in a female household. My sister and I owned at least 100 Barbies…and one Ken. We were girly girls and when I learned I was having a boy – well, I was just a little lost. But life has a way of surprising you and before I knew it
the milestones of being a girly mom to a boy were right before me:

Being peed on...Fart talk all day, all the time, all year long…Taking pride in how many layers of dirt he can wear at a time…Licking pretty much anything (CVS trash can, candy off the ground, ice cream off the floor to name just a few)…Drinking dirty bathwater...Building a collection of planes, trains and automobiles…Re-enacting the Battle of the Alamo with plastic toy soldiers…Moving nonstop until he falls asleep while talking…Legos. Legos. Legos. Legos…Playdates characterized by the first 20 minutes consisting entirely of fart noises and unending laughter.
 
Being mom to a boy has some completely unexpected joys as well. Boys sure love their moms. He’s almost in first grade and he still yells “I love you Mommy!” the minute he sees me. He still wants cuddles at night. He isn’t embarrassed to be
seen with me and he loves spending time with me. I am his favorite person. I know this precious time where I can do no wrong, where I am his rock star, where I am so wise…is fleeting. Oh, how I treasure these days. 

This amazing love I get from him is so very sweet that I have freely embraced his boyness. Farts have even become funny. Poop doesn’t faze me. Dirt washes off. Race cars are more fun than Barbies as it turns out. And we are great partners
in soccer because – well -- I suck at soccer and he loves to win. 

And he is so very funny. This week’s funny moment came at the hair salon when my stylist said, “Doesn’t Mommy’s hair look pretty?” And my son said, “Yes, it does. My Mommy is always pretty.” As my heart swelled with joy and pride at the unprompted compliment he followed up with…“Except when she is naked in the shower. It’s NOT pretty.” 
 
It’s time to start locking the bathroom door.

 Today was Mother’s Day - my second Mother’s Day without Bella and it was just me and my son today. This photo is from Mothers Day 2009. But today it was just me and my son. I have a full blown sinus infection and am feeling pretty icky.

But it wasn’t a tough day. In fact it was really sweet and something to treasure. My fiancé is more than halfway across the world for work, but he  remembered to buy cards from him and my son and left flowers and a gift for me. There was even a card he had signed for Bella with a note that said “She is always with you.”

At around 6:30 a.m. I heard the little guy's footsteps. He climbed into bed with me and said “Happy Mother’s Day! Today is your day. We will do whatever you want today Mommy.” He asked if we could snuggle. I love that he still likes to do that. Of course, snuggle sometimes means flipping and flopping around in bed which was the case this morning. I struggled to sleep between sneezing, coughing, blowing my nose and feeling like I was in bed with a dolphin and quickly gave up.

On days when I know I will be sad, I usually overschedule us. Staying busy keeps me happier. I had promised to take the little man to the zoo and then to see Rio 2. He is fresh off his Amazon Rainforest unit in Kindergarten and also eager to see the baby Panda Bear, Bao Bao. I had promised a dear friend in DC that we would visit. I also knew I wanted to visit Bella. So, lots to do and even though I was feeling pretty yucky, I really didn’t want to spend the day in bed.

Off we went to the zoo. He was planning our visit in terms of food and what I might be convinced to buy him. “Let’s get ice cream. Can we eat lunch here? Can I get a toy? Can we see the panda? Can I tell you about sharks? Hey, did you know the three levels of the rainforest? I do!” He was skipping through the zoo with complete joy. We passed a face painting booth and he wanted a lemon shark painted on his face.

Since Bella died, I have certainly been guilty of spoiling him. It’s something I have been trying to correct all year but today I decided that if I wanted to spoil him, it was a good day to do it. Truly all I wanted today was to have a wonderful day with him full of sweet memories. Soon he was sporting a lemon shark on his cheek. Next we saw the zebras, cheetahs, elephants and then the Panda exhibit. I was surprised to see the pandas out and playing in their yards. Mom was eating bamboo with passion and baby Bao Bao was up in a tree. I couldn’t believe our luck! This was by far the best zoo visit in terms of being able to see all the coolest animals. He looked at me, smiled and said, “This is literally the most awesome place.”

He asked for a toy. He picked a big fat plastic red, yellow and black snake. He declared it a boy snake and immediately gave it a creepy sounding name but assured me that the snake only eats leaves and is actually very friendly.

We linked up with our friend and visited for a few hours over brunch. I always enjoy seeing her.  Bella loved her so much and being around her makes me feel close to Bella. Apparently my little man loves her just as much as I do because it was hard to get a word in edge-wise. “Have you met my snake? He is a nice snake. He isn’t a girl. He eats only leaves and rocks. Here, pet him. He likes you. Can you hold his mouth open for me? Can I take him to lunch? Can we pretend we just got him at a pet store?” At the restaurant he assured everyone the snake wasn’t real. No one seemed very surprised by that fact. He hung the snake out the window. He and the snake hung out under the table. A boy and his fake pet snake.

When the movie ended, we reunited with the new pet snake (who was taking a nap in the car) and headed over to the cemetery to see Bella. That may sound sad. On one level it is. I hate having to visit her there. I really hate that she is there and there are many days that I still cannot believe she is gone. But I also enjoy going there and taking her something. The cemetery grounds are absolutely beautiful, peaceful, green and flowery. It’s an amazing place to be laid to rest and I find comfort in taking something to ensure she is not forgotten. My little man told her all about our day and introduced his snake to her and then proceeded to pretend the snake was slithering through the grass. I’m sad to have to visit her there but glad that I can. It just wouldn’t feel like Mother’s day if I wasn’t able to go there.

He looked over at me. “Are you crying Mommy? I want you to be happy.” This time I was able to look at him, smile and say, “No honey, I am not crying. I am happy.” He said, “I think she is really happy and dancing in heaven.”

Our day ended as it began. Snuggled up in bed, watching a movie, one of us sneezing and coughing and the other one flipping and flopping around like a fish out of water. I miss Bella every single day and today was no different, but I felt grateful today for the joy that I felt in my heart as I just savored every minute of sweetness life offered.

Most days being a mother means having to say, “Please get up. Please get dressed. Please eat your meal. Please don’t burp at the table. Please say excuse me. Please say thank you. Please brush your teeth. Please go to sleep” at least 45 times. It means discipline and routine. It means you have to watch what you say and do and set a good example. I wouldn't trade it for the world. In my second Mother's Day without Bella and in a week where the world is focused on hundreds of girls who were kidnapped from their families and may never be seen again, I felt truly blessed to have this special day with my little guy and  to know and love all the amazing mothers (family and friends) who inspire me and teach me every day.

We  got pregnant three weeks after we returned from our honeymoon. We weren’t trying to get pregnant but we weren’t trying not to either. For some inexplicable reason, I always felt it would be hard for me to get pregnant. At 34 years of
age, I knew I wanted to have several children and so we stopped birth control and figured it would take 6 months to a year to get pregnant. 
 
The first round of tests yielded a positive finding for me as a cystic fibrosis carrier. It rattled me and shocked my whole family. We never knew that any of us were carriers. Thankfully my ex was negative and so CF was ruled out as a possibility for our baby since both parents have to be carriers in order to have a chance of the baby having CF. But the incident rattled me.

My ex and I were divided over genetics testing. I wanted it, He wasn’t sure about it. We inquired about our options and settled on the nuchal fold test as a first step. Results came back that showed virtually no chance of Downs Syndrome or a
trisomy. The doctor raved about the test and said we should not worry and just move ahead with the pregnancy. No family histories to worry about and we were on our way.

 As the pregnancy progressed, the baby wasn’t very big. My mother worried aloud wondering if there were major growth problems. It irritated me at the time. Why worry? The baby was probably small. My ex and I were both little, after all. At
the 20 week sonogram, we were told the baby I was carrying was a girl. My ex was certain it would be a boy. His family rarely had girls. I was certain it would be a girl. I was elated. My ex was in shock. We were both happy. We told our
families and everyone to think pink. My mom said, “Congratulations! You will have such fun for 12 years!” (I was a horrid teen, full of attitude and unkind words which I deeply regret).

My ex examined the ultrasound pic and said, “I think there is something wrong with her mouth. Maybe a cleft lip.” I didn’t see it and the docs said no. We forged ahead. 

At 31 weeks we were told the growth was extremely behind, my blood pressure was high, the umbilical cord had three vessels and Doppler flow to the cord was irregular. We were rushed to the hospital and warned that a preemie was on the
way. She didn’t arrive that day but testing commenced. What, if anything, was wrong with me? What might be wrong with the baby? Tests yielded no results. One doctor said, “She may just be small and otherwise healthy or she may have major
problems. We won’t know until she arrives.” They gave me a steroid shot to mature the bay’s lungs and sent me home on modified bed rest with strict orders not to work and to eat a lot more. I tried to focus on positive things and I
truly believed that the baby would be ok. 

Welcome to Wonderland where you don’t get to plan your life anymore. The truth is we were never in control of anything, we just thought we were. That’s a hard truth for anyone to learn. The question mark hung in the air for 6 weeks. My ex, my
mom and I checked into the hospital to have the baby by C-section two weeks early. 

She was born at 5:40 pm on Friday, March 3rd. In rapid fire fashion and devoid of emotion, the neonatologist announced:

She has a three vessel cord wrapped around her neck several times.
 
She is much smaller than expected, only 4 pounds and six ounces.

She has a cleft palate.

She has ten fingers and 12 toes. 

She has an ASD and a PDA.

She has a shrill cat-like cry.

She has a simian crease.

She needs to go to the NICU for testing. Looks like a genetic disorder.

And down the rabbit hole we fell. Hard. Fast. No soft landing. 

Then they handed me our baby. I looked at her and thought – she looks so pretty, so much hair, so tiny. But I also felt extreme heartache. The kind of heartache you feel when you think you may not live through it. The kind that pierces your
heart and breaks it like glass into a thousand tiny pieces. I started to feel faint. I asked my ex to hold her. He did. Then they took her away and I didn’t see her again until the next day. They wouldn’t let me go to the nursery until the epidural wore off. 

My ex could go see her and hold her. He came back and told me how beautiful she was. My OB came and assured us that she was doing fine but they were running tests to get the full picture. The nurses were quiet. No one came to talk to me
about breastfeeding or pumping. My mom was worried sick and in full-on Supermom mode. Friends embraced us carefully and lovingly for what would become a lifetime of hand holding. 

I felt utterly devastated, scared to death and lost. Hopelessly lost. Here I was a newlywed with a sick baby and no one could tell me if she would be ok. My dream of motherhood, the only thing I ever really wanted, was NOT supposed to play out
this way. This was not the way it was supposed to be! I wished and prayed and hoped for a miracle. On the next day I held her and it felt wonderful. She was cuddly and beautiful. She had the cutest little nose, the sweetest little cry.
We were hopelessly in love with our sweet child. 
 
Tests later revealed she had 1q deletion syndrome which meant that she was medically complex and developmentally delayed. Some things could be fixed, others couldn’t. We were told she would likely never eat on her own, talk, walk, sit,
or stand, use her arms, know who we were, have any memories or any capacity to learn at all. We had no idea how long she would live. We would have to wait and see what she could do and how healthy she would be. Life as we knew it was gone. Life in Wonderland had begun.

I didn’t see it at the time but the miracle was Bella. She never should have been born. Most babies with her chromosomal disorder miscarry. She was a rare, fragile flower. Only 29 other people in the world at the time had been diagnosed
with the same abnormality. So there was no roadmap and few resources. We were sent home when she was 2 weeks old with a list of about 20 specialists and doctor appointments, a feeding tube and some resources for early intervention.

I guess every first-time parent goes home wondering if they can handle this parenthood thing. For us, that feeling was overwhelming as my ex, my mom and I dressed tiny Bella in the smallest preemie outfit we could find and buckled her
into her car seat to take her home.

Bella at about 16 months. Summer of 2007.

I'm headed home from The Mom 2.0 Summit. I came here to be inspired to blog again after a long hiatus and under new circumstances. It was indeed inspiring and so, I woke up this morning and instead of working out, I started my new blog...about my new life.
 
I'm from Texas but I now live and work in the Washington, D.C. area. But when you're from Texas, you are always from Texas and so I need to declare that important fact from the beginning. I have a lot to say. I think it's interesting and hopefully you will too. So, let's dive right in...shall we?

Let me introduce myself to you. I am a mom to one amazing, funny, smart, loving, energetic (code for never ever stops moving and talking unless he is sleeping), and vibrant little boy. He is my second child. My first child, Bella, died last year. My favorite picture of her is in the footer of the blog. I know that's some heavy info to process but if we are going to get to know each other, I need to share that with you up front. This is my personal journey through an unexpected life, an unexpected divorce, an unexpected death and the unexpected blessings, joys and wisdom gathered along the way. It's a really special journey even though most days I feel lost (in a good way). I don't know where life is going and that's ok by me. I just know where I have been and I'm working hard to apply all I learned to our new life.

The biggest change I am learning to process is learning to love one child on earth and one child in heaven. I miss my baby. I miss holding her and kissing her. Having to learn to love a child in heaven is one of the hardest things I have ever done. I went from being a parent to one child with special needs and one typically developing boy to a parent with one child in heaven and one on earth.
 
I need to tell you this up front because I never realized how many people ask you this question, "How many children do you have?" I also never realized how often my son is asked, "Do you have brothers or sisters?"  I only realized how often these questions come up after Bella died. Bella is very much in my heart. I don't want to exclude her from my conversation or my life. How could I ever do that? She changed my life in such a massive, earthshaking way and I want to make her part of my life.  I have taken a cue from my son and I just answer it honestly and succinctly. I just say, "I had two children. My daughter is in heaven and my son is 6."

There's more to me than parenting. I married a good man but our marriage didn't survive the toddler years and the special circumstances a special needs 2 year old and a colicky newborn brought us. But we remain friendly. After all, we have been through so much together that we are bonded for life in partnership and we honor our children by very amicably parenting our son.

I am engaged to marry a dear friend of more than a decade who has been my lifeline through the last year. He loved Bella and he loves me and my son with all his heart. He's older than me, wiser than me, doesn't embrace social media and has different parenting values so blending our family is an adventure. He is my very best friend in the world and we are figuring it all out as we move along. 

I'm a working mom with a really demanding job that I love but we are coming off our busiest four month period ever and that fact, combined with a year of grieving has me emotionally exhausted. Like any parent, I feel stretched to the maximum degree possible and battling for happiness, time alone and time with family and friends. I need to become proficient with Skype. I need to stop being a hermit before my friends forget what I look like. It's time to move forward.

One year into my new life, I am a mixture of happy, busy, sad, hopeful, and tired. I'm a lot like you. I hope you join me on this journey and find it interesting. Life can be pretty funny, pretty heartbreaking and messy. My posts won't be serious all the time. I'm actually pretty funny too.