The rose that grew from concrete

I thought I would share some of my favorite lyrics below.  Lyrics that I relate to very much.  Lyrics that help me celebrate who I am on days when my damaged petals seem to get the best of me.  On the days where I see those petals as weaknesses, and not the strengths that they are.  On days when I forget to celebrate my tenacity and remember the past is a place from which we came, but it does not define me.  Everybody has a story.  Everyone has overcome obstacles in their life.

Long live all the roses that grew from concrete.

Did you hear about the rose that grew from a crack in the concrete?
Proving nature’s laws wrong it learned how to walk without having feet
Funny it seems but, by keeping its dreams
it, learned to breathe FRESH air
Long live the rose that grew from concrete
when no one else even cared
No one else even cared..
The rose that grew from concrete

You see you wouldn’t ask why the rose that grew from the concrete
had damaged petals. On the contrary, we would all celebrate its
tenacity. We would all love it’s will to reach the sun.
Well, we are the rose – this is the concrete – and these are
my damaged petals.  Don’t ask me why, thank God, ask me how!

~Tupac Shakur

 

In this moment

There are many days that pass that are less than blissful.  But then there are days like today.  Days where I am able to live in the moment and feel so much gratitude for the life I have and the great privileged of being a mom.

In this moment I am so grateful.

I am grateful to you my little boy, to have been here with you as you’ve grown up over the past two years, though now it feels that time has moved a bit too quickly.

I am grateful for the unforgettable memories we have made, just us, and the bond we have developed that could not ever be broken.

I am grateful that through you I have been able to experience true, unconditional, pure, endless love.

I feel blessed that at this moment in time, though brief as it may be, that your dad and I are your everything.

I am grateful for your tiny, little hands, especially when they reach up and hold onto mine.

I am grateful for the challenge that comes with a daily life that is no longer driven solely by my needs.  My life would truly be boring without you.

I am grateful that it is us that you call out for in the night to comfort and snuggle you.

In this moment I am grateful for the scars and stretch marks that tell the story of us.

I am grateful for the boy that you have already become.  You are funny and loving and determined.  I am so proud of you.

I am grateful for all you have taught me about life already.  You have helped me remember the importance and power of laughter.

I am grateful every time I hear your high pitched little voice tell me you love me.

I am grateful to get to see the tremendous bond between you and your dad and the special love you have for each other that is indescribable.

I am grateful for those beautiful brown eyes, that look up at me filled with such joy and innocence.

I am grateful to be on this journey with you, and for your patience as I continue to learn how to be the best mom to you that I can be.

I am grateful to get to hear your sweet voice call out “Mommy”, knowing one day too soon I will just be “Mom”.

I am grateful for the love you’ve shown me, in your own little two year old way.  A love that has touched my heart beyond words and forever changed me for the better.

I am grateful to have been the one to watch your first steps, hear your first words and help you get up when you fall.

I am grateful for the renewed excitement you bring to every day, as we experience life for the first time, all over again.

I am grateful for your smile, that instantly lights up even the darkest of days.

I am eternally grateful that you fought so hard to be here with us during your first moments.  Though you struggled for life those first days, you came through it all unscathed and we are blessed that you are here with us today.  You are strong.  You are resilient. My happy, healthy boy.

And to my babygirl who I haven’t yet met, I am grateful every time I feel you move in my belly.  There is nothing like it and I hope I never forget how amazing it felt.

I am grateful to get to be the one who carries you, though the journey isn’t always easy, in this moment I am able to see the true beauty in it.

I am grateful for the excitement and joy you bring to us as we think about our future together as a family.

I don’t ever want to forget how I feel in this moment.  I don’t ever want to stop being able to appreciate the little things.  In this moment I am clearly able to see and feel how blessed I am to be a mom.  And not just a mom…YOUR mom.

 

 

Is it Enough? Part deux.

So the answer to the big question I have been asking myself, and have publicly discussed here as I work through it.

Is it enough?

If you read my previous post about this, you know what that question means.  A deep question that is hard to discuss, for the fear of coming across as selfish, or worse yet, as a bad mother.  But in spite of the risk, I ask it anyway.  Is it enough?  Is it OK to accept saying goodbye to my former self, and dedicating all of who I am to being “mom”.  Is it the “right thing to do” to put myself on the back burner for an indefinite amount of time, for the sake of my child (and soon to be children).  Is that necessary for me to really be a good mom?  Can I accept that as my life?

My answer.  No.  

You may read this, especially if you are a fellow mom, and be shocked that I could even consider this question.  How dare I think of me, especially during these early years when children are so impressionable and dependent on the time and love of their parents.  You may think I am a terrible, selfish person for even having this conversation outside of my own head.  You may think this is a no-brainier.  You made the choice to have children and OF COURSE they come first.  OF COURSE you should dedicate 100% of yourself to raising them and their needs.  OF COURSE this is what you should do.  Well, I used to agree with you.  But I don’t anymore.  Does this make me a bad mother?  I have struggled with this question, but now realize the answer is 100%, absolutely not.

I have learned a lot over the past 3 years, and I continue to learn and make mistakes and change direction.  I think this will continue to be a life long process.  One important thing I learned recently, that I wish I had learned sooner, is the importance of “self”.  Yes, it is absolutely a beautiful thing to be a mother.  A great gift that I cherish very much, and try very hard not to take for granted even on the most difficult of days.  Being a mom gives my life great meaning.  It is a beautiful thing to be so selfless and give up so much for our children’s happiness.  But it is also a beautiful thing to remember who you are and truly foster the spirit of that person.  It isn’t easy.  It is a balancing act that I have yet to master, but I am working on it.

There will always be sacrifices and choices made as a mom, that I obviously wouldn’t make as a single person.  I am a mom, a title and role I love love love!  And I want to be a great mom.  My dedication to that and love for my babies hasn’t changed.  In fact it is because of how deeply I love, and how much I want for my children, that I realize the importance of also investing in me and fostering growth within myself.  I am still learning a very important distinction between giving of myself to others versus giving up myself for others.  I have learned that there is nothing negative about wanting to be more.  Being a mom is a huge part of who I am, but it is not all of who I am and I shouldn’t feel guilty for that.

I’m sure that like myself, you have read or heard all about how we as parents are the most important role models to our children.  They look up to what we do more so than what we say.  And the same sex parent is often the most influential.  At 25 weeks pregnant, with a baby girl on the way, I take this very seriously.  I have already seen that my 2 year old son recognizes who we are by what we do.  He catches on to things, and comments on things that I had no idea he could understand.  He has already started modeling his own behaviors after us, and very much after his dad.  He definitely thinks he is a personal trainer, and surely by 6 or 7 years old he will be putting me through workouts.  And it’s not just my husbands “job” that he sees (And I call it a job in quotes because it is much more than that to him).  My son clearly recognizes strength, confidence and passion in his dad and that already reflects back in his own developing personality.  It’s not just about what my husband does for a living, it’s about the traits he displays while doing it.  And no matter who and no matter what Deacus grows up to be, it is those important pieces that I hope he respects and holds on to.

I want him, and my daughter to see those things in me too.  How would I ever teach them to be a great, if I don’t become that person myself?  How do I say to them that I want them to be great, but it’s OK, mommy is fine right here just being mediocre.  And don’t we all want our children to be great?  And by “great” I mean happy, successful, confident, loving, courageous, passionate, strong and all the rest of the amazing describing words that we all wish for our children.  I want him to witness those things in me.  I want him to see me as a loving, dedicated mother, but also a woman who knows who she is.  A woman who is confident, with a strong sense of self.  A woman who is passionate and happy with who she is.  A woman who is constantly changing, making herself better as she goes.  A woman who doesn’t give up.

Yes, it’s true that I will never exactly be my former pre-baby self.  But I don’t want to be.  Yes, it is hard to juggle life as a mom and not lose myself in the process.  My physical self will never be the same.  I will carry the scars and stretch marks (proudly) forever.  I will forever carry the joys and burdens that come with becoming a mom.  And these are the things that make up who I am, and make me a stronger, better person.  These are the parts of myself that I am most proud of.  The parts of myself that give me the greatest motivation to become something more than I am today.  I’ve realized that I matter.  I’ve realize that the better I feel about myself, the more I dedicate to my own happiness, the better I am able to be a great mom and wife.  The more I am able to give selflessly and without resentment, to those I love.  I deserve to be at my best for ME.  And my family deserves to have me at my best too.

So who am I?  Where do I go from here?  How do I rediscover my identity, juggle it all and find my true happiness?

Well, this seems like a good place to start.  Hi, I’m Shannon.  Nice to meet you.

 

Deacus Alexander…his journey to life

I decided I’d take a little detour, and share a little bit about the little man who changed my life.  He is, afterall, a huge part of my story.  Not only does he occupy much of my time, but he has stolen my heart too.  So where to start?  I guess the beginning is a good place.  I remember the day I found out I was pregnant.  We were having a few friends over for a BBQ, and I thought I might have a drink or two.  We had just gotten married the month prior, so I didn’t think there was any way I was actually pregnant yet.  But to be safe, I took one of the tests I had pre-bought, an to my surprise it was positive!  Then of course I took another test just to be sure.  Still positive!  Nick was working, and was to be home in about a half hour.  It was the longest half hour of my life.  I was shaking and pacing the floor, and couldn’t wait to tell him the news.  I put the positive test on top of the baby Jordan shoes I had ordered months before (expecting that we’d have a baby at some point in the next couple years).  Nick walked in, and was as shocked and excited as I was.  We both recognized at that moment that our lives would be forever changed.  We really had no idea how much though, and wouldn’t until our little man arrived.  I’ll save all the details of my pregnancy for another post, and get right to the big day.  Our little Deacus was born March 8, 2012 at 12:04pm.  I say “little”, but he was 9lbs 8oz, hense my labour ending with a c-section.  After my water breaking at home at 40 weeks, 2 days, we headed to the hospital to meet our midwives.  I cannot say enough about how much I enjoyed being under the care of a midwife.  Many people still think having a midwife means a home birth, or a natural birth or some sort.  And sure, many who go to a midwife likely want that type of birth.  For me, I had no desire to be anywhere but in the hospital pumped full of drugs.  So, we met the midwives and went through all the typical checks to see how things were progressing.  My contractions had started and at this point were bearable.  I had previously been told two things about what to expect with contractions.  First, they feel like strong menstral cramps that get progressively worse.  Second, you will know when you have them.  “They” were right about one thing, I KNEW I was having contractions.  Let me tell you, my contractions felt NOTHING like menstral cramps.  They were strong and horrible and felt like my insides were being stabbed over and over.  There was no slow build up.  Things quickly went from bearable to extreme pain every 3-4 minutes.  It was intense, and not a pain I can even put into words.  By this time it had been 6 hours and I had already requested my epidural a few hours earlier.  The care we received at the hospital was amazing.  I did have to wait a while because it was a busy night, but none the less I can’t complain about the treatment we received from the nurses and Doctors.  In fact, the care we received was exceptional.  Once the anesthesiologist arrived we went through the standard process to get me my drugs!  I was hunched over, my widwife holding me from the front, and the sharp, cold needle going in my back.  The pain of the needle was minimal.  I wouldn’t even describe it as pain.  The challenging part was staying still, in an upright position as the contractions wreaked havok on my insides.  Nick was asked to step outsife for 15 mintues.  I felt like he was gone for 2 hours.  Well, it turns out it wasn’t 2 hours, but it was an hour.  A fact I wasn’t aware of until much later.  We thought after the epidural that we would take a nap, Nickj would eat his chicken dinner, and we’d relax until it was showtime.  Instead, it turned out that I was one of the minority, for whom the epidural does not work.  5 needles in my back, and 16 hours of feeling every painful contraction, I was told by the Dr. that I needed to have a c-section.  Our little guy was not coming out this way.  At this point, having been in pain for 16 hours, I was more than happy to have this baby boy via the sunroof instead.  Things moved quickly from this point.  I was wheeled into the operating room, Nick was suited up in his hospital gear and joined me again moments later.  I was given a spinal to numb my lower half.  Instant relief.  The contractions stopped – or at least the pain did, and I was able to relax for a moment with no pain.  The anesthesiologist warned me that in very rare cases the freezing makes it way up higher than it should and the patient would feel like they were choking and couldn’t breathe.  He told me to let him know immediately if I felt this type of sensation.  Within 5 minutes of him saying this I started gagging.  I threw up into a bowl on my left, and the anesthesiologist immediately took action.  Immediately I felt relief.  It really is amazing the talent these Dr’s and nurses have, and their ability to think and act fast.  I think they have one of the hardest jobs out there, and I have an immense appreciation for them after having Deacus.  A curtain was up so we could only see a bit of what was going on down below – thankfully!  We did manage to see blood spatter on one of the nurses, but somehow this was comical at this point.  I think we were both delusional by now.  After what felt like a short period of time, our little man entered the world.  I heard his little cry and tears came to my eyes.  I couldn’t see him.  He was immediately whisked over to a station behind my head, and I was wrenching my neck to try and see him.  Something was wrong.  My moment of happiness and relief was gone.   Nick was able to stand with Deacus as he was poked and prodded.  I could hear him, trying to breathe.  He was grunting, unable to take a full breath.  Suddenly our worst nightmare was coming true.  I was still being stitched up when they took him away.  Not exactly my ideal birthing scenario, but I was trying to stay strong.  I just wanted to know that my baby was ok.  Nick went with Deacus as they whisked him off the the NICU.  The thought of this little man being alone broke my heart.  I was so grateful Nick was there for him, when I couldn’t be.  The next moments felt like hours, and the next 5 days would be a roller coaster.  The pain I was feeling from the major surgery I just had was suddenly my last concern.  I just kept thinking, would our little boy live?  Please let our little boy live!