So tired....

Tonight I rocked Tate to sleep for the first time in a very long time.  How I missed that sweet warm body nestled against mine, those soft long lashes against his face, his little breaths misting across my cheeks...that pure baby bliss.


Tate didn't ask to be rocked tonight, nor was he crying when I went in to check on him.  He didn't need me to rock him, but I needed to rock him.  It's been a long, long week.  And it's only Wednesday, and I'm on call this weekend.


Obviously, this has been a bad week at work.  It seems every patient I've worked on isn't happy with my work;  the complaints have been fast and furious it seems.  I'm having difficulty getting patients anesthetized, at least once a day.  And I just don't get it.  I haven't changed who I am or what I do after 12 years of private practice.  And I'm starting to really doubt my capabilities.  I'm so blessed to have a job in this economy, and a job that compensates me so well.   But I'm tired of my heart dropping every time a child cries because it hurts when he/she gets a shot in his/her mouth.  I'm tired of parents casting doubt upon my abilities because I'm not my boss.  I'm tired of feeling incompetent.  I'm tired of feeling less than.   I may not be the smartest person on the block, but noone will be kinder to your child than me.  Noone will try to make them comfortable more than me.  No other dentist almost cries when your child does in fear and pain.  


I'm tired of racing to get out my door every morning at 720am with my son who invariably has to poop 'just one last time' at 718am.  I'm tired of waking up at 545am to only having 80 minutes at most with my son in the mornings, rendering my hair and make-up routine to about 8 minutes and my clothing choices to 'did I wear this on Monday?'  I'm tired of having a 5 minute drop-off at daycare;  I just cannot figure out how to get up earlier to arrive there earlier.  545 is pretty damn early.  I cannot fathom waking Tate before 6.  


I'm tired of not being able go to the PTO meetings because I can't make it there in time (and also due to the fact that my child is starving by 545 and in bed by 715pm).  I'm tired of Tate being one of the last kids at daycare in the evenings.  I'm tired of only having 75 minutes with my child in the evenings and the majority of those precious minutes are spent eating and doing his bedtime routine.


And to make this week even worse, I didn't get home tonight until after 605pm.  My last patient at 4pm who was only 6 years old needed 5 fillings, and I could not get her numb.  At 444pm not one of her teeth was ready to be filled.  I had to hop out of my chair with my patient still laying there, run back to my office, text Lindsey to beg her to please pick Tate up from school and feed him when she had already told me earlier she was going to go home and take a much needed nap before heading out for her run at 630pm.  I don't know what I would do without her.  Tate and I would be lost.  I had my boss come in to see what she thought as I'm always so unsure as to what she would want me to do. I know what I would have done, but I feel I always need to run things by her as we operate quite a bit differently, hence my constant need for her approval (and we've been friends for 19 years!!!!!)  She stepped in to help leaving me feeling like I was a student watching the master.  Finally, at 535 I had to go.  And I always wonder in these situations...'Jennifer what would you do if you were in your own practice?  You would be the be all end all.'  I realize that those thoughts just serve to make me feel so much worse, and I shouldn't wonder about the 'what ifs' because this is what it is.  And this is why I don't own my own practice.  I don't want to be 'the buck stops here' person.  I like having someone else to take the work journey with me who is also the 'be all end all' person.  I was never meant to be a practice owner.  I'm much better as the worker bee...you tell me what to do and how to do it and I'll do the best I can.  I'll defer to you and your ideas, methods and ways.  


But this job choice of mine is not the easiest for a single mother be it by choice or circumstance.  I can't just get up and leave if I haven't finished all my work.  I can't take my work home and do it after Tate is asleep.  I'm stuck, my mind whirling as I try to figure out how the hell am I going to get Tate picked up as well as thinking...this poor kid here at the end of the day is not happy, how can I help her through this?  As pediatric dentists we are swamped after school;  the time I most want to spend with Tate is the time parents most want to spend with me!  


So this has been a long week.  They have so over-scheduled me in the late afternoons my head hurts.  I have so many people scheduled at the same time my head spins.  I don't feel like I'm doing anything right.





But tonight I just need to feel a little sorry for myself.  I need a little cry.  I just don't feel up to pretending I can do all this well and do all of this well alone.  My car still has to be fixed from the accident, so I have to schlep Tate to daycare on Friday then go across town and sit at the car place for who knows how long while it's looked at.  My downstairs a/c unit is on the fritz, and it's been over 105 degrees here for the past 3 weeks.  How am I ever going to find time to be home to have someone look at it?   I have gained more weight than I thought humanly possible.  My back is killing me from the non-ergonomically correct position I'm forced to sit in all day. My garage door is off-kilter.  I need a new washer and dryer as these are on their last legs.  My electric bill is going to be so high I can't even fathom opening the bill next month. My baby Tate has to see a surgeon in a few weeks (nothing major but still)  I'm on call this long weekend, and I'm so not in the mood to be (not that I ever am)  My light fixture in the bedroom has yet to be fixed because I can't seem to get to Home Depot to get another fan for Mike and Bryan to install for me.  My friends are all married, so busy on the weekends, so I feel so disconnected from them lately.   Half of my blinds are falling apart...these ridiculously expensive Hunter Douglas blinds...I have no idea who to call for this.  I worry constantly about my retirement account, Tate's college savings, my emergency savings.  I wonder since I'm taking such crappy care of myself that this baby I wanted to much is going to be left alone in this world, so what the heck is keeping me from taking better care of myself for him?  I do have a physical set of September 9th, so here's hoping I'll get some much needed advice and answers about my sluggishness...is it depression?  or just that I need a 24 hour break?   My sweet Mommy worries me because she's so worried about her memory issues.  My beautiful boy is growing up so fast I can't keep up, and I miss him already.   


And I'm doing this all on my own.  


For all of those reasons I needed to rock Tate to sleep tonight.  To be reminded that all will be right in this world.  As I held him I could feel my heart beat slow down.  I felt at peace.  I may even go grab him and put him in bed with me tonight.  There's no place I'd rather than be than cuddled up with Tate.  mmmmm....I feel better already.

Mommy and Me Day

I am still in my pajamas tonight at 7:17pm.  I just laid Tate down in his fresh pajamas for the night.  It has been a great day!!


Once we were up and out of our beds at 615am our pajama day began.  We did some laundry, did a bit of picking up in the room we share most nights, we read a few books upstairs, he watched his favorite Keith Urban video on my phone ('Put You in a Song').  Actually the first thing he asks me these days in the morning is 'guitar!!'  'Keith Ur-baaan!'  I let him watch a bit of his 'Baby Signing Time' DVD...the only television he ever watches and didn't start until 18 months old at most once a week.


We meandered downstairs for his breakfast of Cheerios, milk, banana and his fave, plain yogurt.  I opted for one of the nutritiously sound left-over birthday cupcakes my mommy made for me.   


Then we played on the floor, colored, played with his tent/tunnel, raced cars around.  I was his personal jungle gym for quite some time.  We harassed the cat, played dress-up and just plain old hung out together.  I did clean up and empty and reload the dishwasher while Tate amused himself reading books out loud to whoever would listen.  Lunchtime came and he enjoyed some rotisserie chicken, veggie stix and strawberries, while I munched on the lasagna my mom made for my birthday.  (Tate can't have any as the pasta she used has egg product in it).


And then bliss..we napped together for almost 2 hours.  I rock him a bit at naptime still, and we both fell asleep.  I woke with a tickle in my nose from his hair brushing against me about 45 minutes in.  I just snuggled in more and dozed back off.


The afternoon brought more laziness and fun.  We raced more cars.  We stacked our Fisher Price Peek-a-Blocks 17 blocks high...he was able to name each object and each letter save the J (confused as L) and the R (confused as A).  They came tumbling down with a thud and I had a 2y1m old in my lap burrowing his head into my neck.  


Dinner was festive and we skyped with Papa only as Grandmommy was at a baby shower.  We played a bit more after I put the dishes away then we headed upstairs to fold some laundry from the morning and put in another load.  After I changed my bedsheets, Tate was in the bathtub playing away.  We sudsed up, rinsed off and made a beeline for the bed to get into fresh jammies!!!  (this was a bit difficult with the new toddler behavior of squirming about and flailing about as well as our new event of trying to hit, kick and bit mommy for reasons unbeknownst to me).  Only one bedtime story was read due to his bad behavior, but he seemed to understand.


All in all it was just a marvelous day.  I'm sure there are many things I could have done and needed to do, but more than anything I needed a day to decompress.  Pre-baby I would have just watched movies, read books and slept.  I can't quite do that anymore, but I'm blessed with a child who is low-key most times and just wants to hang with his mommy.  I couldn't ask for anything more.  Sweet sweet Tate.


I need many more days like this with my precious boy.

And yes he put those swim diapers on all by himself!!  All 3 of them!

  He wouldn't let me take them off until he was ready!!  Sooooo cute!!

Wistful

One of my friends on facebook commented on a picture of Tate taken this past weekend.  She wrote 'He is growing up so fast.'  (this picture in fact) 

I met this friend, J, at the Motherhood Center when I was about 25 weeks pregnant with little Tate.  She is a massage therapist there.  I had many, many prenatal massages, and she is just amazing!!  I would lay on those massage tables just drifting away to the lovely music and relax.   The soft sheets, laying on my side, the smell of lavender and lilacs wafting over me just overwhelmed me with beauty.  In many of those moments I felt more like a mother than I ever could have imagined before my precious boy arrived.        As she massaged my pregnant belly he would kick sometimes, and sometimes he would just relax like his mommy.   Those last couple of weeks before I gave birth I was having massages almost every other day in attempts to stimulate labor.  J was right there each time trying to coax him out.

So tonight as I read her post it brought me back to those many hours when it was just Tate and me.  Though J was in the room, I was one hundred percent connected to my body and the amazing things it was doing growing this tiny person.  This teeny tiny person.  Inside me.  

And now he's here walking around, no, running around!  And he's 2 years and 1 month old (tomorrow)!  That's unfathomable to me.  He's 2 years old.  He's not even a baby much less a newborn anymore.  

So tonight I'm a little wistful.  I still have massages with J, and they are still awesome.  But Tate isn't there with me.  As I see friends sending their kids off to college for the first time I wonder how they do it.  I can barely stand to have Tate away from me while I get massage, let's not talk about when I work how hard it is!  Off to college is something I can't even begin to wrap my head much less my heart around.  

I'm in love with this little boy beyond measure with his silly grin, his fabulous laugh, his big tears, his amazing hugs, his joy of life.  And I reminisce about his toothless grin, his first laugh, his first real tears, his love of nursing and the immense joy he has brought to my life.

August 20, 2009

August 22, 2011

He is growing up!  And way too fast.

The Beginning Part Deux

Christmas 2007 rolled in with its usual merriment and festivities.  I was starting to really consider having a baby on my own.  I let a few girlfriends in on my thoughts, and they were amazingly supportive.  We planned on having donor choosing parties complete with turkey basters and balloons!  


In January of 2008 I went to Houston IVF for a consultation.  I really liked Dr. McKenzie, and she had me do the Clomid Challenge to ascertain my ovarian reserve.  At this point I don't remember my exact results, but I do know all was fine and she considered me able to move on in the conception process.  I contacted the California Cryobank and received their packet of information which included the process for choosing an anonymous sperm donor.  I perused the packet and started receiving information about possible donors. Reading their bios and hearing their audio interviews was weird to say the least.  How do you choose someone to donate half their DNA to impregnate you that you have never met?  It was mind boggling.


In the interim, Christian and I had begun emailing one another in early December.  They were the usual emails of people who don't know each other and only spent approximately 12 hours together.   In mid-March of 2008 I sent an email to him and mentioned that I had decided to have a baby on my own.  I explained I was saving some money to do it artificially, needed to lose a bit of weight, get further along in my allergy shots and my plan was to start trying in September of that year.  He wrote back so very excited for me, and was extremely supportive!  Over the course of a couple of months we exchanged several more emails about our lives and all the goings-ons.  Then in late May, Christian sent me an email which included a paragraph in which he offered to donate some of his DNA if I had not made my mind up about a donor.  It was so sweet and generous, and I was shocked.  It had never crossed my mind to have a known donor, let alone someone I didn't know at all except over the internet really.  Though I had really come to cherish our budding friendship, this was something I just never expected.


By the beginning of  June we had decided that we wanted to move forward with my having a baby and Christian donating. 


Reading back through those emails is so precious to me now.  Our feelings, thoughts, emotions, ideas, concerns, nervousness, excitement...all of it comes racing back to me.  I remember that giddiness of the excitement of embarking on something so amazing.  That Tate is here with me now is just unbelievable.  

Two Year Old Stats!

Tate Christopher had his 2 year old check-up with the pediatrician this afternoon.  After decimating the smallish room we were waiting in, dear Dr. R came in and moved us to the larger room, so he would ostensibly have more room to move around.  (ie he could run like a banshee and not destroy her office space) Not surprisingly, once we were in that room along with her, Tate became the model patient.  It is patently obvious that my child will be one of those kids who do better without his parent in the operatory.  Of course this only held true until she wanted to look in his mouth; then he reverted to form.  Squalling about, squiggling, kicking, crying...ugh.  Other than that though he was a perfect patient!  He's looking good according to her...tall and lean, but just great.


He does have a little blocked duct of some sort on the underside of his penis that she has tried to drain previously.  It has not decreased in size, nor does it cause him any discomfort.  However, she wants me to have it evaluated and removed (drained) by a pediatric surgeon, so I'll be making an appointment in the next few weeks.


Other than that he is soooo good!!


Weight:    27 pounds    (35th percentile)
Height:     35 3/4 inches (80th percentile)


He's skinny for his height according to Dr. R, but we're still making the move to 2% milk now.  Since he is not a fan of the leafy vegetables, or any veggies for that matter, he's going to start taking a multi-vitamin!


He's growing up.


Two years old.  I still remember our first visit to the pediatrician on Monday, July 27th to follow up on Tate's jaundice.  My mom, Christian and I brought him into the office together.  We were all exhausted, scared and in love with this precious boy.  Hovering does not even begin to describe Christian and me during Dr. R's exam of Tate.  (my mom opted to wait in the waiting room).  My sweet little boy.  As much as I'm loving this so very fun age right now I miss the newborn days.  Yes, I was absolutely exhausted, yes I wanted to move into a tunnel for 24 hours straight, yes I was in pain for over 8 weeks from the c-section, but I loved having Tate snuggle into me, I loved how he just seemed like he was simply part of me.  I still get that feeling all that time, but when he was that small he just tucked into my neck and all was right with the world.


He's growing up.  And he is really a very sweet little boy.  Dr. R asked if I could take him to the grocery store with no problems;  I said yes.  I told her he listens for the most part to what his teachers at daycare and swim lessons tell/ask him to do.  He holds my hand whenever I ask him to.  He sits in his stroller quite well and for extended periods of time.  She was pleased with his behavior.  Of course he acts up like all 2 year olds are want to do.  He gets in trouble ALL the time for kicking during diaper changes.  This past week, he has kicked his way to no stories during bedtime rocking 3 nights.  (with the exception of 'Good Night Moon'...we hear that every night).  He doesn't listen all the time when we're at home.  For example tonight he wouldn't bring me the books I asked him to bring me.  And he's a horrible eater for me and still refuses to try most any new foods.  


He's growing up.  The past 3 years have flown by.  I am blessed beyond measure.  So tonight as he sleeps I thank my wonderful Father for all the gifts He has given me.  A fabulous family.  An amazing donor.  And a funny, quirky, loving, sweet, hilarious, giving, sharing, beautiful baby boy.


And while I give thanks for all that I've been given, my heart is heavy for my friend, Shannon over at 'Chasing Rainbows.'  She received some difficult news today.  When you have a chance say a prayer of healing and courage for her and her sweet 3 month old little boy.  

About to go in for his appointment!

Reading in the waiting room!

The Beginning

I have been meaning to write the story of how Tate came to be for almost 4 years now because it actually starts in November of 2007 when I went to Australia for 2 weeks.


All of my life I wanted to go to Australia and Greece.  All of my life.  If you had asked me my life's goals and deepest desires I would have said to be a mother, to be married and to go to Greece and Australia.  I suppose that at almost 44 years of age that 3 out of 4 isn't so bad.


One of my dearest friends lived in Berlin, Germany for about 2 1/2 years.  I flew over to visit her 3 times while she and her family lived there.  While there I was able to manage a side trip each visit.  On one such side trip I flew off to Athens, Greece!!  (yes by myself)  An absolutely amazing trip.  I will definitely post pics and blog about that one day as it's still very fresh in my mind and close to my heart.  Thankfully, I almost always journal while visiting other countries, so I have a pretty good account of my time there.


In any event, Greece was off my list at the tender age of 37.  So that left getting married, becoming a mom and going to Australia.  I had begun toying with the idea of becoming an single mother by choice in May of 2007 when I was shopping for a new vehicle.  My girlfriend (the one who lived in Germany) suggested that I might want to consider having a child and that the 2-door Infiniti G-35 coupe I had my eye might not be the best choice.  I had never thought of becoming a mom on my own, but something resonated with me.  I started to give it some real consideration.  And on a side note I purchased the G-35 sedan (still love the coupe though...and now it comes as a convertible...should I add this to my list?)


I suppose I didn't know it, but I became a thinker.


I treated myself to a trip to Australia for my 40th birthday!!  I had saved and saved.  On Friday, November 16th  of 2007 after turning 40 in August of that year I flew off to Sydney, Australia.


I spent 8 days in Sydney and Mudgee.  Wonderful, glorious, fun-filled, awe-inspiring days.  On Monday, November 26 I flew off to Cairns for 5 days to visit the Great Barrier Reef and enjoy the beach.


On Thursday, November  29, I met Christian.

Sydney Opera House 11/2007

Christian and I met that morning of the 29th  on a tour of the Daintree Rainforest.  I got up the courage to ask him and Raik to join my new friend Tammy and I to dinner that same Thursday evening.  We're enjoying drinks after a lovely dinner in Cairns.  I flew back to Sydney the very next morning.
This is when our journey together began.

Big Excitement This Way!

Tate woke up dry from his nap yesterday afternoon, as he does quite a bit.  This time I had the where-with-all to immediately take his diaper off and put him on his potty!!  And VOILA!!!


He peed in the potty!!


I did the happy dance, the happy song, the happy jig, the happy clapping, the happy jumping up and down, the happy head bounce, the happy squiggle.


He looked up at me, hippo lovey in hand, pacifier in mouth, stood up and walked away.


I think he has no clue what he has done.  But we're going to try again today when (note I didn't say 'if') he wakes up dry from his nap.  He will tell me when he has pooped in his pants more than half the time.  He seems to relish in telling me as we're walking out the door to daycare in our frantic morning rush.  He'll point to his bottom and say 'Tate, poop.'  But hey, baby steps.


Gotta go get on my happy shoes as he'll be up in a bit!!