Reasons to Celebrate

A friend of mine just told me she was pregnant. Upon hearing the news, I jumped up and down, clapped, and cried. I am so excited for her. She, however, kind of smiled and teared up, but not in the “I’m so excited” way. I started thinking back to my pregnancy, about the day, and the weeks following, that I found out Logan was on his way.





I did not jump up and down. I did not clap. I cried and I cried. It’s not that I didn’t want a baby. I really wanted a baby! I just wasn’t ready yet. Or so I thought. I wasn’t filled with excitement and joy. I was filled with trepidation and fear. Having those feelings made me also feel guilty, really guilty. I wanted this baby. I was going to have this baby. I wanted to be happy and excited, but I wasn’t. When I told people I was pregnant I would smile and do my best to seem excited, but inside I was already feeling like a terrible mother.
This is how my friend was feeling. As we talked I remembered more and more of my pregnancy. When I was 5 months, I had a break down with my mom. I was not connected to the baby. I wasn’t in love with him. I worried about him and took incredible care of him and myself (other than putting on too much weight), but I didn’t feel what I thought I should feel. I had seen him twice in ultra-sounds. I could feel him swimming inside, but I felt empty.





Of course I had some amazing pregnant times. I loved bath time with my boy. I would lie in my tub with my huge tummy sticking out of the water and do kick counts. Logan was so active in the bath (still is) and I loved the feel of him splashing around inside. I was more worried about my little fish than I was in love. Again, I felt guilty.
It all changed for me the moment they pulled him out.





The moment my husband started repeating over and over “He is so awesome, he is so awesome” I fell in love. I connected and I realized I knew this little guy. He was mine.






This is why when people tell me they are pregnant I jump, cry, and laugh. It is not because of the joy they will have in pregnancy. No, it is for the joy they will experience the moment that babe is set in their arms. It is the experiences that are still 40 some weeks away that I am excited about.






My little fish brought me peace and love from the beginning, but man has it changed now.





He is his own person now. He plays and laughs. He runs and chases. He is so full of free joy without worries or cares. He laughs hysterically because it feels good. He is my joy, but it is a complicated joy. It is so full of love, passion, fear, hope, desire, and a little heart break. It is all going by so quickly. Every day I look forward to the new adventures, the new skill he will debut. Yet, every day I say goodbye to a piece of my “baby”. He no longer wants to hold my hand when he walks and that is my little heart break.








I told my friend all of this and she replied with a smile and a hug. She was relieved and she was able to let go of some guilt. I told her to let people celebrate for her. They know what is to come and believe me, it is worth a party, a huge celebration, because it is the most amazing thing she will ever go through, or at least it has been for me!

Baby's First Hair Cut

Vernon (my husband) has been bugging me for weeks to cut Logan's (I was thinking of creating some pseudo name for my little guy, but after it took me an hour to find a name for this blog, I decided to call him by the name we painstakingly picked 13 months ago) hair. I love his beautiful curly locks, but Vernon keeps calling him a hippie. Now, I have been known to be called this myself, so I see nothing wrong with my baby being a little earthy. We are liberal, peace loving, keep the earth clean kind of people. However, we are not nurse till your five, never cut your boy's hair kind of people. So... the day had to come when I said goodbye to these beautiful curls.








I don't know what I was thinking. Vernon said he would cut his hair. I was fine with this because I wanted to take the photos. Silly, really silly for two reasons. The first being the obvious. Vernon is a professional photographer! Oh, but I am trying to improve my skills, so let me, let me!
The second reason: Vernon cannot cut hair. I know this from experience, personal experience! Vernon once cut his own hair with clippers and that did not end well, but when we decided one Valentine's Day that he would cut my hair, oh my.
We had just come home from traveling and my hair was long and kinda dead. I wanted it cut. I had cut my hair a number of times, but only simple trims. Vernon thought it was a great idea and after a bottle of wine I did too. So, he grabbed my pony tale and cut. Just like that, no measuring, no framing my face, just went for it. I was stunned. I freaked out a little (but only in the way you can freak out when you have been with someone a few short months), grabbed the scissors and tried to fix my poor head. I was worse than Vernon. I didn't know how to fix anything, so I just kept cutting. Vernon started to see the panic on my face and took the scissors back. He actually was able to fix the damage I had created, but my hair that was moments before down to my butt was now less than an inch long. I wore little barrettes in my hair for months. Somehow, I forgot about this and let Vernon cut.







I started to panic when I saw the back of my poor boy's head. I was already near tears at the thought of cutting his hair, but then when I saw this...
I stopped Vernon, remembered he was the photographer, I was the one that planned and thought before cutting, and tried to salvage Logan's head.





I didn't realize that cutting a one year old's hair is impossible! He squirms and grabs. He cries and wiggles. He does not tilt his head this way or that. He does not sit still. No, I had no luck. Vernon's grab and cut actually proved to be more successful. By the end, Logan was not a happy kiddo.







We gave him a little prize to ease the hurt...





A brush, I know. Kids are so easy! And after...





some reading and cuddling (and despite his horrible cut)...





Logan got his smile back.

Welcome to my world of make believe

I am a mother. I am a wife. Yep, a mom and wife. However, most days I still feel like I am playing house, and it is all fake somehow. I think this is a great thing. My husband says I'm crazy. I get to play everyday. I get to play with this gorgeously entertaining child, and I get to play with this funny, intelligent man. I am in my own little world of make believe and today I am adding to it. Now, I get to pretend I am a writer. I get to pretend I am a photographer. With that said, I am neither of these things. Then again, most days I don't feel like I'm a mother or a wife, but I know for sure I am great at both of these, so there you go. Welcome to my world, our world. Come and play.