It Takes a Village.

I've written a lot before about how blessed I am to have such a strong support system. Looking back over my old posts, I found one devoted solely to that topic, although I mention it all the time.

Funny how the last time I was compelled to write about my support system, I was in the exact same circumstance that I'm in now. I got a colonoscopy and stricture dilation yesterday--just like I had when I wrote about this last time--and I still don't feel like myself. I'm not sure why, but every time I have one of these I wind up with a high fever for at least 24 hours afterward. And somehow I always forget that; I wake up all, like, yay! It's over! And then, bam, I'm back in bed feeling worse than I did before.

It's like I said back then--what do mothers do who aren't as lucky as I am? Adelyn has so many incredible people behind her, so many people who are not only willing to spend the day with her but who relish the chance to. My parents watched her all day yesterday while Jason came with me to the hospital. When we got home and my fever started to set in, Jason's mom ran over to help me out while Jason picked up my prescription and dinner (I hadn't been able to eat in almost 48 hours at that point).

This morning, I got out of bed and promptly threw up three times in a row. Adelyn was strapped into her bouncy seat in the living room, watching the Today Show, while I sat in the bathroom. Jason came downstairs after getting out of the shower, saw this, and insisted that she spend the day with his mom.

And dear god, was that a good idea. Because the rest of the day was spent undulating between a 103 fever and vomiting, and as sweet as Adelyn is she doesn't quite have the patience for these sort of things yet.

It's days like today that make me look at our lives and wonder how the hell some women go it alone. Without insanely supportive partners, without the most gracious and loving grandparents and great grandparents, without aunts who buy hilarious onesies and people who fly across the country just to meet their friend's child.

I sound like a broken record, since I've written nearly an identical post surrounding a colonoscopy before. But it bears repeating. Jason and I--and mostly Adelyn--are so lucky to live the lives that we do. Stricture dilations every three months and all.

And thanks to my day of rest, I feel a lot better already.

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Happy Father's Day.

Don't miss the CafePress onesie and T-shirt giveaway! Still six days left to enter! (Comments are being weird, yet again. If you entered and your post isn't showing up, give it time. There are a ton more entries than Blogger is showing, and it's running on like a 24 hour delay or something.)

It has been exactly one year since we told the world about Adelyn. I can't even remember how much sooner before that we found out. It wasn't until we told our families that it seemed real, that it started to seem less terrifying and more celebratory. No amount of introspection brings that first week or weeks back to me. I just can't remember it, it was all too much. So I like to think of Adelyn's timeline beginning here, when everyone was happy.

Father's day, that I remember. I'd finally worked up the courage to tell my mom. I was going to wait, maybe until the second trimester, maybe until I'd come to terms with it myself, but I literally could not hold the words in any longer. My mom has always been my touchstone, the person whose perspective I want to hear and learn from the most. So I told her. I made her go to lunch with me on father's day, even though neither of us were hungry and we were going to eat with my dad in a matter of hours for dinner. I spilled the words out in the car. She nearly swerved into the stop sign and brought the car to a halt. This is what I was expecting--the shock, because no one had expected it, now right now, not anytime soon. But once she put the car in park--ten feet away from my house, that's all the time it took for me to summon the words--she was happy, and spoke nothing but happy words, and then in that moment I started to feel at ease about becoming a mother.

When we got back home from lunch I told my dad. And that was infinitely harder. I didn't want to tell him on father's day, but my mom promised me it would bring him happiness, too. That's the thing about fathers, though--I'm not sure if Jason and I had been married for a decade and I was in my late 30s if I would have felt much differently telling him. But I did, and once again, he was happy. He said it was the best father's day he'd ever had.

Later that day I drove to Jason's parents' house, and we told them. (Again, nothing but joy out of our fear.) They called Adelyn's great grandparents over. Happiness all around.

It wasn't until we were back at home that Adelyn truly came into being in my mind. It was no longer a pregnancy but a new life. That day created a new father, two new grandfathers, a great-grandpa, two aunts, countless other family members alive and passed on who made up this tiny heartbeat inside of my belly, and the heartbeat that is napping right now beside me.

So happy first (or is it second?) father's day, Jason, and to my dad, Jason's dad, Jason's grandfathers and my grandfather and all of the countless fathers out there who have created new life.

And for the memory I'll always hold close of father's day, the day when Adelyn stopped being just a situation but a creation, for that I will always be thankful we used this day to share the news.

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Bon Voyage.

Tomorrow Jason and I leave for our honeymoon. We're driving to Seaside, FL (its claim to fame--The Truman Show was shot there), and we'll be gone until Thursday. Adelyn is spending half the time with Jason's parents and the other half with mine.

In the morning we'll drag all of Addy's stuff to her Janu and Pop's. We should have rented a UHaul. Because we're going to be gone for so long I'm determined to bring everything she could possibly need and everything that might make her grandparents' lives a little easier. Swing, bathtub, stroller, vibraty seat, Jumperoo, NapNanny, dozens of bottles, diapers, wipes, formula, gas drops, teething tablets, hundreds of bibs and onesies. Am I forgetting anything? Aside from the baby.

I won't be able to write until we get back, which will mark my longest hiatus from this blog yet. I managed to post while I was in labor and the day we got back from the hospital. But bringing along my computer and blogging about parenting would sort of the defeat the purpose of a honeymoon, right?

So goodbye for now, friends. I'll be back with stories (I hope) to tell.

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Mom.

It's funny how much becoming a parent makes you realize about your own parents. It's a sort of love that can't be really understood otherwise, until you have a child to take care of and mold.

This is my mom all dressed up for the Ballet Ball in Nashville. She's the most beautiful, inspiring woman I know. I only hope Adelyn looks up to who I am a fraction as I do to this woman. That'll be enough.

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Support system.

When my parents had my sister in Seattle, they were all by themselves. They'd just moved there a few months before, so they had no real friends. No family. No support system, aside from each other. And after living there for a while, they up and moved to China, when my sister was still an infant, for a teaching job. There, they didn't only lack a support system, they lacked a common language and culture with their surroundings.

I keep coming back to this. It's given me a brand new appreciation for my parents, for how much they love my sister and I. Because let me just say, without any exaggeration, that this is hard. Having a baby is so, so complicated, and it gets more so everyday.

I got a colonoscopy on Monday, and figuring out the logistics was a headache. Jason took the day off to come with me, my mom had to cancel appointments to stay home with Adelyn, Jason's mom rushed over from work to stay with me and Adelyn afterward since I was still under the effects of anesthesia and Jason had a meeting to get to. It was all one big jigsaw puzzle of rides and babysitters.

And guess what? My doctor wasn't able to do the stricture dilation as much as I needed since the strictures were so tight (it's been 10 months since my last procedure), and that means I have to do it all over again in two weeks. Another day of drinking that vile liquid for the prep, another day of juggling a newborn and the disgusting demands of that vile drink, another jigsaw puzzle of canceled appointments and missed days at work.

Even more than it makes my head hurt, it makes me realize how incredibly lucky we are to have such a support system. There's a whole host of family members and friends around me that get excited about watching Adelyn. A day rarely passes without a phone call from someone asking if they can come over so I can take a shower or take a nap (really just excuses to hold Adelyn, I think, but I'm not complaining).

I don't know how my parents did it. Sometimes I feel like I have a lot to complain about (health-wise, mostly), and then I think about new mothers that are going it alone. And then I tell myself to shut up and just appreciate how blessed I am, for this healthy, amazing baby, and her many amazing fans.

Thank you all for everything you do for us. Words can't describe how much we appreciate it.

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Hanukkah and Pocket Knives.

When he pulls out that pocket knife I can see the little boy in him. His dad's dad passed away more than 10 years ago and not a week goes by that he doesn't tell me a new story about that man. He gave Jason his beloved pocket knife collection when he passed away. And Jason bought himself a pearl-handled knife to add to the collection a few years ago, a knife so expensive, he says, it would've made his Papa jealous.

Jason knew his grandpa was getting near the end when he was about 15. So he started spending every night he could with him, listening to his stories about farming and the Depression and life.

Adelyn will have two sets of thriving grandparents, a pair of equally thriving great-grandparents and two aunts. And she'll have a myriad stories about the ones she's never met, from a pig farmer who loved pocket knifes to a family of Orthodox Jews.

Jason and I were making latkes for the first night of Hanukkah when he pulled out that pocket knife. And it reminded me just how lucky Adelyn is, coming into a world with such rich stories and histories.

One of the first truly positive thoughts I had about being pregnant was that I could give this child an actual, loving, warm, active extended family. I never had one. It's not a complaint--I was gifted with the two most amazing parents, with whom I share an unwaveringly strong bond. They're not going anywhere. Ever. But I'm sure I'll be giving Adelyn lifelong relationships with a group of incredibly diverse people. There will never be an end to the stories we have to tell her about where she came from.

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