Everybody Is Fine

I need to blog. It has been a stressful week with too many moments where I find my heart in my throat and I stop breathing. So I need a release. It is dark in my house and Jose has taken my computer in for brain work. It needs more memory. My computer, my buddy, has been logging my thoughts and feelings, nursing papers and community research for too long. Today, my buddy gets a massage and a boost.

That's what I need: a massage and a boost. The brain forgets what it doesn't need. It does this to reduce stress on the body. It does it to protect itself. My brain has been very protective lately.

Therefore I blog on paper, releasing my thoughts and memories in ceremony. My venue is the front porch where I have clumsily dragged my living room chair and jack's mini-chair. I bring with me the finest blues music and I am accompanied by the best escort, a sleeping baby on my chest. I am sipping on gourmet rich coffee, courtesy of my new Keurig Mini. And I realign the chi. Now life feels easy. Easy like Sunday morning... which The Commodores just so happen to be singing in my background.

Life's perfect bliss is returning.

Let me start with everybody is fine. And I am so grateful. I am lucky. I always remind Jose this when he foresees a potential trauma or other unfortunate incident approaching. His forehead scrunches into a million wrinkles and he squints his eye and I say, "Don't worry. Did I ever tell you I was lucky?"

He knows.

Lucius fell off the changing table. The newborn who can't roll over, grab hold or scoot managed to inch his way over the edge of the table in the mere seconds our eldest stole Daddy's attention. Seconds. He cried right away. A good sign. But it was a cry that overwhelms us with guilt and regret. The kind of cry that comes after that three seconds of stunned silence as the shocked victim registers what just happened. They let me fall.

How did that happen? We have a guard there. We keep the changing pad bordered. He can't even roll over. But he can kick and little man gave a kick so hard it sent him backward, head first down the side that is three times his height. He suffered a bruise to his knee and a scrape to his head, otherwise all limbs intact.

And we are so sorry. We performed a thousand assessments, checked every reflex we could remember, thoroughly palpating his bony structures and his fontanels. We slept lightly that night, frequently jumping up at his change in breathing patterns and occasional coos.

And just as we recovered from one traumatic event, Jack comes skipping over with a white capsule in between his teeth, a big smile on his face. I yank it out, inspecting it to assure it hadn't been punctured to release its' contents. A no-name capsule. White. Found on our foyer. Were there others? Could he have swallowed one? Two? More? What was it and where the f*** did it come from? We keep Children's Liquid Tylenol so high in our closet that the average grown adult requires a step stool to reach it. Jose and I never take medicine, so how did this get here?

Well, the mystery is solved and apparently an unsuspecting pill can hop out of Grandmom's purse, hail a cab over to our house and mosey it's way into a two-year-old's mouth when it feels like it. Parents beware.

And like every cake that gets icing, it also deserves a cherry. Jose calls from work to tell me a patient vomited in his eye. Protocol requires permission for HIV testing and Hepatitis Panel by the patient. Thankfully it was granted and the patient proved his innocence from spending his nights on the corner of the red light district paying for service. But the wait was scary.

Lessons have been learned. We are fortunate to have lost nothing and gained something new: appreciation. I don't think we are missing appreciation here, as evidenced by my blog. Yet, we added some into the bank. It is a great asset to have on a rainy day when you get a speeding ticket and someone steals your wallet. This is when we withdraw from our appreciation bank and recognize what we still have and how lucky we are. I am lucky and everybody is fine.

I Could Hold You In My Arms

It's the middle of the night and I am exhausted. Eli's tummy hurts. I fed him, burped him, bounced him, changed him, rocked him. No success. But I still have my mommy tricks. He is wrapped up tightly in my Moby and we are dancing. And what keeps me going are these huge brown eyes looking up at me with what seems like gratitude. And I'm all teary as the soft music plays Ray LaMontagne singing I Could Hold You In My Arms. It's only minutes before I can feel his soft snore against my chest.

And I should go to bed now, but my birth play list runs on with the sweet loving music I had intended for the big day. And we are still dancing. And he is making these little hums. And these lyrics fit the moment. "You came from heaven shining, breath of God still flows fresh on you. The beating heart inside me crumbled at this one so new."

I have more to post, but it is the middle of the night. Short and sweet and so worth recording.

What I'm Loving Right Now

It’s almost four in the afternoon and I haven’t brushed my teeth all day. In fact, one brushing a day is the new norm for me. When Jose is home, I get to take a hot shower and wash my hair. I could stand in there until all the hot water runs out, leaving that amazing man of mine to fend for himself against the fussy newborn and the ever fully charged toddler, but the all consuming guilt would kill me. So I thoroughly rinse all the shampoo bottles, collect the toys around my feet and store them in the frog container, rinse the inside of the curtain and the walls of the shower. It’s all I can do to justify the full ten minutes I spend in there.

And when I come out, Jose is standing under the doorframe asking me to take the baby because his arm is tired. I wrap my towel around my body, grab the brush under the sink and take the baby to see my husband dramatically waving his arm to release the blood flow. And I wonder, how does this man sometimes get three showers a day?

Disclaimer to my whine: I have the best husband. We both have our perks, and somehow we are perfectly opposite. He excels at the chores I loathe and vice versa. He also masters the parenting skills I lack and vice versa. We may disagree on what is more important, but somehow everything is attended to. It makes us the perfect team. Example: he won’t bounce a baby for twenty-four hours, but he will travel to the ends of the city to broaden the mind of our child and make sure there is not one speck or crumb on the kitchen floor, ever.

And I love rooting for this home team.

Other things I am loving right now:

Nursing my baby. It is amazing how in sync two can be. A beautiful bond noted just by the sight, sound or smell of my baby and I fill up. All for him. All in perfect timing. Just as he stirs, I am ready. One growing human being needs nothing more than the best nourishment only his mama can give him. After he has had his fill, I get to smell his sweet breath, his mouth wide open in his drunken slumber. And this lasts until he realizes he has been removed from his fountain of goodness into an upright position to burp and flips his lid. And I laugh as I say, “I didn’t take your beer from you, you fell off your barstool!”

Brotherly Love. Jack knows how to love. And he loves real good. If we ever taught him anything right, I know we taught him this. He nuzzles his head against his brother, says “Luh lew”, kisses his forehead and hugs him. Sometimes he loves him too hard and we have to remind him to be gentle. But that’s okay. Because dude, this is love.

Being kicked from the outside. I love being pregnant. I do. It’s an amazing experience. But that last month of bed rest, lacking exercise, feeling huge, not being able to work or help out got old before it was ever new. After a while, even the hard kicks and hiccoughs couldn’t cheer me up. He had to come out. I wanted to see the golden light at the end of the tunnel. Finally getting kicked from the outside made it all worth it.

The freedom to run. This is one of those ‘when you have it, you don’t want it’ or ‘you never realize what you’re missing until it’s gone.’ Baby, today I ran. I forgot how good that felt. The crazy rainstorms from yesterday left us with clear skies and cool breezes. If everyone wasn’t out running, they should have been. The rhythm of my feet stomping on the ground with the ta-dup of the wheels on the evenly spaced cracks of the sidewalks lulled Lucius right to sleep. Two bonuses.

A glass of wine. I haven’t had a glass of wine in almost a year, do I really need to explain?

Frazzle and Cake

The stars today were aligned in a fashion that prevented me from a nap I so desperately needed and a shower I once was entitled to. The phone was eager to rattle off its hook with the anticipation of the next inevitable caller. And I, spritzed with my daily scent of breast milk and organic deodorant (a product that's been given too many second chances) had a slight dip in my lovey dovey baby hormones and felt a little frazzled.

One little man wanted to be held all day. Thank you Moby Wrap for making this possible.

And it is then that Jack spikes a fever. The same day my final leadership paper is due. Jose's last day of leave. Things were going so smoothly, what happened?

But this is all okay. I love sick days. In between the worry and doses of antipyretics, I look around the family room and smile. It's like a slumber party. Life is put on hold. Jose and I camp next to our babies surrounded by blankets and pillows, snacks and cold drinks. A good movie is playing in the background. We are all together because we are forced to be all together. No one can call us away. Jack is sick and he needs us. No one is going anywhere. And I am secretly loving this.

On a positive note: I'm back in my old jeans and ten pounds from my wedding weight thanks to a healthy growing boy and the miracle of breast feeding. And that was my one liner to promote breast feeding rather than boast about my weight. I really wish breast feeding was more mainstream. I'll strip my shirt anywhere to support it. It should be a normal sight everywhere, like shoving a huge double bacon cheeseburger in your mouth with the mayo dripping down your chin. I think that is a disgusting sight. It deserves an apron, but who am I to say so?

We spent the morning at Green Meadow's Farm to celebrate Alex's second birthday. We mostly walked around. The boys climbed a fence and played on the playground. I think we left our enthusiasm to milk a cow at home. We did the farm like Paris, minus the designer boots and overalls.

In honor of Eli's day of birth, I baked a birthday cake! It is the mmm-mmm best chocolate cake recipe in the world. I spent the whole day, mainly because, pausing every half hour to bounce a baby, nurse a baby, chase a tot, answer a phone, feed a tot a peanut-butter-and-preserves-sandwich-that-he-doesn't-want-because-he-just-saw-my-grilled-cheese, repeat. Blood, sweat and tears (and maybe a little breast milk) went into that cake. Haha, just kidding. But really, it was a lot of work. And it was so worth it. Even when I had create icing from scratch to write Happy Birthday Eli on top. Yup, even when I realized I had no baggies to write with and had to drizzle the letters on very patiently with a spoon. Totally worth it.

TWO

The heart is made of a thin stretchy fabric. Maybe a cozy cotton jersey knit with a small percentage of spandex. It is comfortable and it has the ability to stretch and grow without bursting at the seams when you fall in love again.

I fell in love again. My heart grew this week.

His name is Lucius Eli Pacheco. He came on Monday morning after a fast labor.

I woke up with some crampy contractions at 3:30am and knew: this is it. I woke Jose who called Diane. It was so peaceful. Jack was sleeping beside us, the house was quiet and it was just us. I just wanted to lay there. I felt good.

We called Mom and told her to mosie on over whenever, but she came right away. I rocked a little on my birthing ball, we watched Pregnancy in America, we smiled, we laughed, we timed contractions. Only five minutes apart, we'll call again when they come every three minutes.

At 8:15, labor was active and contractions were less than three minutes apart. Game time. I rocked against the wall in the loft and hummed like a monk. Jack woke up. Mom and Jose poured boiling water into the tub. Shannon arrived at 9:00. I started pushing at 9:15.

Baby Eli came into Jose's hands at 9:29, minutes after Diane walked in. Then onto my chest, into my arms, back to the sound of my beating heart. And it was beautiful...

... aside from me cursing at Jose for asking me questions during contractions.

And I am so in love with this little man who stole a piece of my heart. Expanded it to a potential I didn't know a heart could have. It was love at first sight, and now that I know how much more love I have to give, I am sure I will welcome more...

... not for at least four years.

Birth is beautiful. I embraced it with my whole body, naturally. I never thought of myself as a woman with strength, empowered by what I can do. What I was made to do. The beauty of who I am and what I am capable of, what every woman is capable of doing, makes me so proud to be given this body as my vessel. For those women who doubt, who criticize or blame their bodies for their lot in life, their shortcomings and lack of luck: I say TEST IT.

Bring on this wild and wonderful life with your greatest ammunition. Fall in love again and again. I am singing with my happy baby hormones, which, by the way, can knock out any synthetic drug. Loving love, loving my body, loving my stretchy heart and loving my baby.

My One and Only

He's an only child. He has been the center of my universe for two years and he knows it. I fall in love every day with this little man who moves me. Who makes me want to be better in every way that I can. He is this driving force created by love, who has stirred up every little cell in my body, has every little cell dancing with excitement at each new discovery of mommy hood. I can't soak it up enough. I can't cram every memory into my brain so that I can replay it when he's not so little. How will I remember the smell of his sweet sweat head when he naps? Or the feeling of his chubby fingers as I kiss each one, telling him they are mine? How do you record that?

I once read a story about a little boy who goes for a walk wearing a jacket. The wind tells the sun that he is stronger, so strong that he can take the jacket off the boy. And he tried. He huffed and puffed and blew as the boy buttoned up his jacket and hugged himself tighter. The sun took on the challenge and shone her brightest, breathing her warmest breath onto the boy. And he took off his jacket.

I love this story because it shows that just being what you are is that driving force. And my little ray of sunshine moves me to do bigger and better things every day just by being who he is. Someone who makes me want to wrap my arms around him and never let go, but eager to let soar. He has taught me so much more than I could ever teach him in less than two short years. Two years that have flown by. So fast, that I am stunned when he uses a new word or puts on a hat, grabs the IPOD and tells me he is going for a runny run like dada. How does he learn so fast?

We are all wondering when this baby will make his magical debut. He has been cooking longer than Jack and surely we thought he would be earlier. We are executing the practices of full term fetal eviction: eating spicy foods, walking, squatting, unusual yoga poses and some other unmentionables with little success. Some suggestions are bizarre, but we try them.

Me to Jose: "Maybe I should start doing jumping jacks. Do you think that would hurt the baby? I mean, he's in a sack of water."

His response: "Haven't you seen Finding Nemo? She's a fish killer!" Image of little redhead girl with braces shaking plastic bag with new pet fish pops up.

We'll give it another week.

My Mommy Moment:

I picked Jack up from school today where the teacher insisted I take home a plate of cupcakes. Responsible thought: We still have to stop at Publix, it's eighty degrees out and these will melt in a nano second. "Okay, thanks!"

The thickly frosted chocolate cupcakes were sad, melted mushrooms oozing creamy chocolate icing to the rim of the plate by the time we got out of Publix. I started the car, cranked up the AC and held the plate in my right hand while steering with my left. Queue seatbelt alarm, followed by Jack's, "Oh no, seatbelt, mama, ticket, police man, ticket, oh no, seatbelt, no-no." Well taught, Jack, good looking out. Next light, I held the steering wheel with the best knee crossed over a fully pregnant belly that I could hike up to the steering wheel and strapped on my belt, balancing the full plate of cupcakes.

Victory. We made it the three minutes to Amma's house. I expertly one-handed Jack out of his car seat where he made a quick swipe for a cupcake. And then they toppled... everywhere. Melted sticky chocolate icing down Jack's head, both of our outfits, plopped on my boots and his crocs, sharing with the interior of our freshly detailed Subaru along the way.

I cursed, while Jack, all bug-eyed and big mouthed drove in a huge cupcake for a sweet tooth home run.

And as much as I'd love to post one of the several messy cupcake pictures that were taken by my mother dearest, I can't. They are all fuzzy. So I will close with another fabulous beach photo.

How Lucky

Have you ever asked a baby how big they are? They throw their hands up in the air as high as they can reach while you sing soooo big!

If you ever ask me how lucky I am, I would stake a flag in the ground and run as fast as I could to the other side of the world and scream soooooo lucky!

I am. I am that lucky.

After three weeks of cabin fever and Jose's nerves running a little short, I insisted we take a family day at the beach. We drove out to Clearwater with a canopy and a shovel and dug our feet in the soft white sand. Jack loved it. He rambled about the ocean and Nemo and fishies while we laid back, basking in the sun, entertained by our sweet little one. I dug a hole in the sand to fit my belly like a glove. For the first time in months, I laid tummy down with my hair in the sand. Heavenly.

Yesterday, I had to bite my lip a thousand times to keep happy tears of gratitude from flowing down. And sometimes, that didn't even work. All it took, was a day at the beach with my favorite people.