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Now You Are Three

June 13, 2011 by Farewell Stranger ·

Dear Connor,

Today you turn three. I can hardly believe it.

I know, that sounds trite. But as I write this on the eve of your birthday – with you asleep next door in your big boy bed (the one you insist on showing every single person who comes into the house, and the same one you never want to sleep in alone at night) – I feel a little bit stunned. Three years!

This is the first photo taken of you when you were born:

Looking back, it tells me so much of what I now know about you. You’re not a huge fan of being taken away from your mama. You know exactly what you think and aren’t afraid to express it. You’re sensitive to your environment, but if you want to be the loud one, nothing can stop you.

As well, the expression on your face is one I’ve seen many a time since:

Something has happened in the last few months. I don’t know when, exactly, but you stopped being a baby. I know you’re not a baby and haven’t been for a while, but until recently I had moments every day where I caught a glimpse of baby in you. Each time I held on tightly, knowing it was a fleeting gift.

I’ve only just realized it, but it doesn’t happen every day anymore. Hardly at all, actually. Even last week when you were sick you didn’t stay stuck to me in the same way you did when you were sick only a couple of months ago. You’re growing up.

And I’m growing up with you. Since I’ve been off work the last couple of months, I’ve been working on getting better and for a long time Daddy was taking care of you. He was doing all the hard stuff that I couldn’t do at the time, like getting up with you in the mornings and trying to get you to eat breakfast, putting you down for naps, doing baths and bedtimes. For a short and very scary time I wondered if I would ever be able to do those things. It seems so silly, but I couldn’t do them. I was too sick and I needed to take care of myself before I could take care of you.

Over the last couple of weeks, though, I’ve started being mom again and doing some of those hard things that used to set me off when you didn’t cooperate. At first I had to talk Daddy into letting me do those things, to let him know it was okay and to assure him that I’d ask for help if I needed it. And we always had back-up. So many people have helped us over the last few weeks – I only wish I could repay them with something other than endless thanks and undying love. We owe Grandma especially for being here at times when I needed someone to do what I couldn’t do with my own child. Sometimes you just need your mom and I’m so grateful for mine. I hope I can always be there for you, for whatever you need, the way she is there for me.

We’re doing well, though, you and I. Which is not to say everything is easy, just that I can handle the hard stuff better now. And my darling boy, sometimes you are a holy terror. I can’t tell you how many times someone in public has commented on what a handful you are. If only they knew. I could do without the screaming fits and the meltdowns over seemingly insignificant things, but I know that’s part of who you are – a passionate, expressive person. (And you get that from me but don’t tell Daddy I acknowledged that.)

The past three years have changed my life in ways I never could have imagined, and for a long time things were so hard I wasn’t sure I’d make it through. I know what happened to me was hard for others as well. Your dad is really annoyed that I didn’t get the help I needed soon enough. In one way I’m sorry too, because it meant he had to deal with a lot of things I wish he hadn’t had to. I can’t change that now, but I do know how much he loves me and I know how much I love him because we’ve been through this together.

Mostly, though, I really don’t resent what I’ve experienced. It was awful – don’t get me wrong – and it’s not over yet. But I’ve learned so much from it – about you, about our family, about myself and about life. I now know just how much love and support we have, and that’s a powerful thing.

My experience with postpartum depression has also taught me that every one of us has something to give. We all have ways of helping someone. Of changing someone’s life, even. A few people have helped change mine, and I hope I can do that for someone else.

I have found new passions and new sources of inspiration that I never would have found if it weren’t for this, and no one can ever take that away from me. This insight is one of the biggest gifts I hope to offer you – to live your life fully, to do what you feel you’re meant to do, and to love and be loved in the process.

I will love you always and forever,
Mama xx

Filed Under: Letters to Connor, Postpartum depression · Tagged With: gratitude, living life, love, my wish for you

Thoughts from the Road(Trip)

June 9, 2011 by Farewell Stranger ·

We pulled into our driveway last night and could hear our dog – having spent the past week waiting to see if we’d ever come back – barking madly. Upon opening the door, he came storming out. He jumped. He licked. He ran circles around us.

We’re home.

The trip – despite some moments of going crazy – was great. A few observations:

Spending seven full days with a toddler when you haven’t done that often – in fact, ever – is…what’s the word? Challenging? Exhausting? Enlightening? Crazy-making? Endearing? Yes.
I might, possibly, need to plan a little bit more alone time on future trips.
Toddlers who are pretty tied to a routine at home do surprisingly well on road trips.
Next time, I need to remember to bring bath toys. (Thanks again, Paige, for kitting us out for the trip home.)
When you tell your three-year-old boy you’re going to a play date and he’s quite concerned about whether there will be diggers there, and then you arrive to find that there are, in fact, diggers to play with, the look on his face is priceless.
It turns out three-year-old boys quickly forget about diggers when there’s a selection of fire trucks to play with.
A two-day drive with a toddler is actually not so bad when he can watch shows on the iPhone once the toys and games you brought get boring.
The second day is especially quiet when the toddler is sick, spent the whole previous night throwing up, and then sleeps most of the way home. (Poor little monkey.)
My family – those who were there and those who weren’t – are truly one of my biggest blessings.
There’s a reason we seem to go there every year. It’s becoming even more about the people, though I will always find a piece of my soul in the place.

Filed Under: Motherhood · Tagged With: family, favourite activities, living life, love

Hello, Inspiration – Rocky Mountain Soul

June 5, 2011 by Farewell Stranger ·

With apologies in advance to my mother, who will probably cry when she reads this.

Sometimes inspiration isn’t a thing or a person, it’s a place.

I’ve driven this road a hundred times. It contains a part of my soul that I only actually see – actually feel – when I’m on it.

It leads me to where I’m from – not a city, necessarily, but a place packed with memories.

The significance of this place was passed down to me by my family’s history and my mother’s love of the mountains. It has now been passed down to my son who, when we met up again after he drove with my parents for a while, proudly announced, “I saw Grandma’s favourite mountain!”

Inspiration is being in this place and watching for trains, even though I’m now 36, not 6 (and not a boy).

It’s spotting wildlife – new generations of those same animals we drove past in my childhood.

It’s tall mountains and big skies.

It’s a place that lives in me. And right now I am alive in it.

My song: John Denver – Take Me Home Country Roads

All photos from Flickr as credited. Instead of snapping shots of the scenery, we’ve been soaking it in.

Filed Under: Happy things, Hello, Inspiration · Tagged With: family, gratitude, love, travel

Pride In the Name of Love

May 28, 2011 by Farewell Stranger ·

I haven’t written about day-to-day Connor stuff here much, but today I’m going to take a moment for some mama pride. I’ve always been proud of my little guy for so many things, but this week I’m just bursting. Each thing is little – and for some families totally unremarkable – but they’re so meaningful to us. Put together I’m just over-the-top in love with him all over again.

He seems to have nailed the potty training thing. He’s been really good for a while, but no more pull-ups during the day and he’s not even really having accidents. Even doing well when we’re out!
He’s been so good with manners. Again, he’s always been pretty good at this but hearing the unprompted pleases and thank yous in that little voice – for even the littlest things – is so awesome.
He’s been listening better. This is pretty big for us. He’s not perfect (what toddler is?) but in the last week we’ve had more cooperation and less all-out meltdown in response to requests to do or not do or to clean up something. (Big thanks to Yael Saar for her wisdom from Ithaca – it helped!) Maybe part of this is me – I’m calmer this week, and he might be responding to that too.
And the big one – on Thursday night he slept in his bed by himself! He had one wake-up at 11, came downstairs and slept on the couch for a while with Daddy, who was watching TV. When Rich took him back upstairs, Connor said, “You’re taking me upstairs? Oh, thank you, Daddy.” And then he stayed in his bed. All night! He came into our room just before 7 on Friday morning and we woke to a little voice announcing, “I had a really good sleep.” There was much rejoicing and then he said, “I did it! Yay, Connor!” Love it. Not only did he do it, but he understands that this is the goal and he was proud of himself for doing it. (Of course I was awake on and off after about 4 am wondering if he was okay, but still…) No repeat performance last night, but I’ll take whatever progress I can get.

I just love this kid.

Filed Under: Motherhood · Tagged With: family, gratitude, love, moments, sleep

Comforter

May 24, 2011 by Farewell Stranger ·

“I don’t want to sleep in my new bed!”

“Why not, honey?”

“It’s too old.”

He has a thing about things being too “old”. When we converted his crib into a toddler bed it was “too old” even though it was clearly a new set-up with new bedding. “Old” just means “I don’t want it.”

“It’s not too old!”

My excited voice.

“It’s brand new and you have new bedding just for you and everything! You even helped daddy build it!”

It’s actually the double bed from our guest room with a frame bought at a second hand store, but he doesn’t make the connection past wondering where that bed went.

“No it’s not. It’s old.”

He has such a sad face. Such a sad voice.

I know what he’s feeling. He wants to be close to mama and daddy. He’s not comfortable with this.

But it’s time he learned to sleep in his own bed.

Each night at bedtime, one of us will climb into his new bed, read stories, and get him settled for sleep. We lie with him until he’s asleep, a necessary step at this point.

When he’s asleep, we sneak out.

I’ve looked back at him as I walk out – he does look like a small boy in a big bed. I get this overwhelming rush of love because he’s my baby. But it’s time. Besides, he’s an octopus and everyone will sleep better if the octopus sleeps in his own bed.

Inevitably, sometime before midnight (and often much earlier) he will get up. Come to us.

“I want to sleep in your bed.”

For months we alternated – one night with dad in our bed, one night with me in the guest room. We needed the sleep.

For the last few weeks we’ve been sleeping as a family. We’ve loved having him – I’ve woken in the night and watched my boys sleep and have felt so blessed – but even in a king bed it’s sometimes too much with him in there. He sleeps like a baby monkey clinging to his mother. (And I happen to be that mother.)

That night, I escorted him back to bed. Lay down with him until he slept again, then started planning my escape. But there’s no leaving. In the middle of the night his mama-presence radar is on high alert.

He woke and I resigned myself to sleeping with him.

This is what we’ll do for now – alternate sleeping with him in his new “old” bed so he gets used to it.

He was restless that night, rolling and turning, sitting up and lying down again, trying to find the right position.

Restless child = wakeful mama.

Some time just before 5 am, he woke. Sat up and looked at me.

“I want a cuddle.”