Stop A Moment

Catch a rising star

My son participated in a two week drama camp at the Hershey Playhouse which followed with an evening performance of their play.

Nicolas played Detective Richard Georges in the play, The Case of the Missing Violin which was co-written by the kids.

At Nic's age I would have been filled with nerves and nearly terrified to get up on stage. Nicolas was confident in his lines and I was so proud of his performance.

Catch my rising star...

His birthday

His birthday brings back memories that flood my heart with utter joy and sheer terror.

Thus was my experience the night my son was born at 28 weeks, 2 pounds 13 ounces. It was a normal pregnancy. Until January 1, 2000 when I went into pre-term labor while we were visiting my in-laws in Buffalo, NY. I still couldn't believe I was in labor when the doctor told me that I was indeed contracting. I had skipped the chapter on Pre-Term labor in my book. I wished that I hadn't as I'm a research junkie.

The labor was stopped after an agonizingly long night receiving medication that made my body feel on fire from the inside out. And I loathe being hot. I was given shots to help my baby's lungs mature more rapidly. Did I mention that I was terrified of needles? After five days in the hospital, I was pretty much de-sensitized.

All was well on January 4th and I was to go home the next day. Back to Pennsylvania where my husband needed to return to work. But that night, labor pains returned and wouldn't go away. By 11 p.m. at night I was 4 cm dilated. Wheeled to the Labor and Delivery Room, I was then put on a table that was then tilted so that my head was toward the floor. Pressure off my cervix. It didn't help. I begged and pleaded for an epidural. I  was told it was too late. I was never brave about having a baby. My childbirth classes were to start the following week! I shouted to the nurse that I didn't know how to breathe. I hadn't learned yet.  I had ALWAYS counted on the epidural. As each contraction twisted me with fear and the greatest pain I've ever known, I still was able to hear my baby's decelerating heart rate being called out. I was in my own world but later told that the room suddenly filled with all kinds of people from Neonatology. The contractions were unimaginable. Other-worldly. But unfortunately, not out of body. I was there. I felt them.

But when I was given the job to deliver my son. I summoned all of my efforts to bring him into the world before his heart rate plummeted again. I would do it for him. And damn it. I did.  He was born at 12:15 a.m. on January 5th. It was also his Neonatologist's birthday. I saw him and heard his little cry before he was taken away to be intubated. He was unable to breathe on his own for ten long agonizing days. In those days, I willed him to breathe. Hour after hour. Breathe. Please, please breathe. Finally, he only needed the nasal canula but still there were so many wires. I held him at 10 days old. He was the tiniest thing I had ever seen.

His ears were not fully formed. He had no nipples on his chest yet. I was witnessing my baby's growth outside my womb. It wasn't normal. But it became my normal. I was very sick for many days requiring an emergency procedure and a blood transfusion. Truthfully, there were many hours of some days that I didn't think I'd live to see my baby grow. But once I was on my feet, although shaky still, I returned to my son's incubator to give him what strength I could muster. I sat there day after day after day. Hour after hour. Minute after minute. Hoping and praying and breathing for him. When those darn beeps and buzzers went off, I died a little each time. My heart would skip a beat. I forgot to exhale. And then, my baby would remember to breathe. And so would I.

We were 300 miles from home. I longed to leave the hospital at the end of the night after 12 hours of exhaustion and return to my own bed. To cover my head. To hide. To pray. To sleep. My husband had to return to work 300 miles back home. We discussed some issues such as a heart murmur over the phone. We faced tormenting concerns over the phone. My family traveled from Rochester NY when they could to see us. Michael returned to Buffalo on weekends. Or earlier, when major issues were tearing me down.

Nicolas slowly thrived. Very. Slowly. There were so many issues and still, we continued to receive small bits of good news each day. My MIL worked at the same hospital and so I rode in with her each day, went home for dinner and returned at night. I sat at the hospital each day. All day. By his incubator. The doctors and nurses knew me so well that they stopped asking me to leave while they did their rounds in the morning and late afternoon. I was a permanent fixture in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. A place that I never knew existed. It was now my home for 6 weeks. It's a place where I barely breathed. My baby barely breathed. Sometimes I can't breathe just thinking about it.

Nicolas grew. He started looking more like a baby and not so much like a sick bird. Finally our insurance company agreed to fly him back to Harrisburg PA. He flew by Lear Jet. And then was ambulanced to his next hospital where he resided for two more weeks. On February 28, Nicolas came home.  I still remember that as Michael and I pulled into the parking lot at the hospital, the song "Colors of the Wind" came on the radio. We both sat there and just sobbed.

The night my baby was born, I'm told that I cried "but I just want to take him to Disney World". No one knew what to say to me. I know that now. Because no one knew.

I know now.

I know now what it's like to watch your child turn blue.
I know now what it's like to hear that your child may have a brain bleed.

I know what it's like to wait to see if your child has a heart problem.

I know now what it's like to triumph.
I know now what it's like to watch your child grow.

It'll be nine years. Soon. Very soon. I was told that my child would grow up all too fast. His birthday is hard for me. I remember the heartache and the fear. But I rejoice in our blessings. We've been fortunate. And so truly, his birthdays are a joy for me. I never thought I'd count a single one and...

"I'll never take one single breath for granted"

2008 meant...

-watching my son's hand pull away rather than reach for mine (more and more often). Ouch.
-running my first 5K
-four trips to Disney World in one year!
-a magical, unforgettable journey with the WDW Moms Panel
-my husband incorporating his business as a Board Certified Behavior Analyst
-a wonderful week at the Outer Banks in a beautiful home in the Currituck Club.
-historical fun in Washington, D.C.
-a family vacation to the Great Wolf Lodge in Williamsburg, VA
-enjoying my son's activities (Scouts, Karate, Baseball, Basketball, Violin)
-organizing and running the annual School Book Fair
-the heartache of hearing that one of my best friend's was in a car accident
-the blessings of that friend's return home after months in the hospital
-not being able to head North to see family in Rochester and Buffalo very much due to all of our work, school and other commitments

And so much more, but alas, it's 2009 and time for dinner!

She's Home

Today at 1 p.m., my dear friend returned home!!

I spoke with her yesterday and she was so excited to be returning home where she'd be with her family once again. Her daughter (3rd grade), son (Kindergarten) and daughter (just turned 1 a few days ago) will finally have their Mom at home.

Her husband called me this morning and I wished his family a wonderful day together. He told me they'd be pulling in to our development around 1 p.m. So I sent out a mass email to friends and neighbors. We all gathered at the front of our neighborhood to wave her in. 

Here we are starting to arrive:

Finally, their car pulled in the entrance.

They stopped briefly to say "thank you" and everyone yelled "welcome home". We also had a large banner that we held. The banner which contains everyone's wishes for her will be hung from their house tonight or tomorrow. Even the bus driver that takes her kids to and from school signed the banner!

I was sobbing when they pulled in to the neighborhood. My friend's Mom pulled over to say thank you. I ran to give her a big hug and told her to enjoy this long-awaited day. Nicolas came up to hug me and I told him that "Mom just has happy tears".

As we walked home, I waved to her again as she was being helped out of the vehicle. Her walker was there to help support her and the wheelchair was nearby. A ramp was built a few weeks ago to ease her access into her home.

I had asked everyone to allow their family to enjoy this time in private. It was important to my friend to surprise her kids. Last night, when her daughter excitedly told me that the hospital bed had arrived while she was at school, she said "I think Mom is coming home tomorrow". I told her that it looked like it would be very soon. I hugged her knowing that today would be such a wonderful day.

Today, I hope her family enjoys their time together at home. I hope they rejoice in this homecoming before the work of figuring out how to deal with therapy sessions and other issues have to be dealt with. Three months ago, we were praying for this day. I am overjoyed.

She's come a long way since the accident on August 7th which left her critically injured due to a drunk driver. There will be continued therapy as she regains her strength and finally learns to walk again.

Today, I welcome her home. And look forward to very soon visiting with her and sharing some of her delicious iced tea.

OH, I just got the most wonderful call before I posted this note. Her daughter phoned me to tell me the good news. I started crying all over again as she told me how she couldn't believe it when her Mom came in the door. Then I talked to my dear friend. She's home. She's settling in to her temporary room on their first floor. I wished her a wonderful day. I'm crying again. What a magical day!

Welcome Home, Jolein!

A sweet sound

My dear friend that was in the car accident in early August was recently moved to an inpatient rehab facility for daily physical therapy. What a long road we've been on since that tragic summer day.

Last night, I answered the phone and heard "Kim, it's ____". When I heard her announce her name, my heart flopped.

Phone calls from this dear friend used to be taken for granted.

We chatted briefly about settling in to her new routine. It was a brief call as she needed to take some medicine. But I hung up thinking that I really must cherish calls from friends.

Not just this momentous call.

I walked my baby

to third grade this morning.

And my heart aches.

I thought it would get easier each year.

Last year, was less heart-wrenching than Kindergarten and first grade. This morning, it struck me as SO sad. My baby is growing up too fast.

I am happy for him though. He's ready to fly into third grade. He's been counting the minutes until school starts. He can't wait to learn cursive writing, read new books, learn division, enjoy the economics unit where the class earns money doing jobs and then spends it at a class flea market.

I took first day of school pictures in front of our fireplace.

Then drove Nicolas to school. We found where third grade waits outside, then I walked with him to his classroom door. And with tears welling up, I said "have fun in third grade, Nicolas". I turned and walked away. I didn't want him to see my tears. When I turned, there were other moms of third graders with the same tears and look of "how did we get here so fast" as was visible on my face. I told them "I'm glad I'm not the only one".

Nic's teacher said "good morning third graders". They were asked to enter the class and sit on the carpet.

And I walked back to my car. Alone. In. The. Sad. Silence.

I know I'll enjoy my days of quiet soon enough. But today, I'll be watching the clock. So I can go get my baby. He'll be dismissed at 3:30. I'll be there. Waiting.

What do I always do on the first day of school? I can't concentrate on laundry, house projects and other mundane duties. So, I go shopping at the Hershey Outlets. It'll pass the morning. Then I can return to my quiet house. And watch the clock.

He's almost home

My little man should be home soon. He left last Friday. I miss him dearly. I can't wait to hug him. I told Nicolas that I intend to squeeze the stuffing right out of him. He's my Pookie Bear.

Moms know. It's been nice having some "me" time but he's not ever far from my mind. And he never escapes my heart. Even when he tells me "I wish I could stay at grandma's house another day" and the knife digs deeper, I still ache to see him.

It's almost like an amputation when he's gone. Like I'm missing a part of me. I feel as if I walk around my house lost, sometimes heading for his room, I forget. He's. Not. There.

But I'm thankful. He will return to me. And that's all a Mom wants. I'm proud that he'll fly solo at times but I'm glad that he flocks back home.

I'm ready for my nest to be noisy again. The constant chirping of "mom" will soon resonate through our home.

I've enjoyed the quiet, I'll admit. I'm now on the 7th Harry Potter book. I've been able to devote time to friends in need. But...

He's almost home. I must go look out the window.

I miss him...already

Nicolas leaves this afternoon to visit his grandparents, as well as his aunt and uncle in Buffalo, NY. Michael will drive half way and transfer our precious cargo to Grandpa. Grandpa will then drive back to Buffalo where I know Nana will be waiting anxiously for Nic's arrival.

The quiet here will be deafening.

Once I'm used to the silence, I'll likely welcome the solitude. I may actually finish the Harry Potter book that I'm reading. Maybe I'll even be able to start another book.

I look forward to shopping and watching a movie. I really should just float in the pool and treat myself to the week of freedom.

I do have some projects that I'd like to tackle though. Unfortunately most of them include organizing and cleaning.

Michael and I will plan some date nights. Quiet dinners, early morning breakfasts, a movie, shopping and evening walks.

I'm trying to stock up on hugs and kisses.

I miss him...and he's still here.

Can you hear it?

Isn’t it beautiful? Nicolas asks as he plays his violin for me…the very first time.

Yes, it really is!

And when I tell him it’s so beautiful that I feel like crying. I’m telling the truth.

No, it's not what you think!

Why?

I think just being a Mom gives us the ears to hear the sound that will some day resonate from the instrument.

We hear the symphony.

I hear the potential.

And I can not miss the pride in his voice.

Second Grade is almost over and my heart aches

Second Grade. Almost over?!

I remember my young boy getting ready for his first day of Kindergarten. I was heartbroken and excited. But mostly heartbroken, I’ll admit. Now we (when will I stop writing we?) have 14 and ½ days left of second grade. How is it possible that my little boy is going to be a third grader soon? This Summer he will start the violin and next school year, he’ll take Pennsylvania assessment tests (PSSA).

But for now, I’d like to remember that Kindergarten morning and how my brave boy wanted to take the bus. The bus did lose its glory, and this Mom has been chauffeuring since some time during Kindergarten. A job I really enjoy because of our talks. And, well, it's nice to get out of the house even if it is just for a short commute. And it's nice to have him home early, at least until I hear “Mom I want a snack", “Mom can I go out to play", “Mom I‘m starving", “Mom is my dinner ready"…Can’t you hear it?

Back to Kindergarten.

And this is what I wrote just before my husband and I walked our son to the bus stop:

August 30, 2005

First Day of Kindergarten and on the bus

It’s Noon and we walk to the bus shortly.

Where did time go, Love Bug?

I still imagine you lying in your “little house” and wishing you to grow well.

And grow you did. You are one of the tallest in your class. I don’t know how my tiny baby got so big.

Soon I will wave good-bye to you and let you fly off on your own for the first time. I miss you already. “I love you forever, I like you for always”. 

In my heart, I’m still comforting you while I rock and sing “baby boy, baby blue, you have made my heart so true. Baby boy, baby blue, mommy says I love you.”

It is so hard for mommy to let you go explore the world on your own. But that is indeed what I want for you. I want you to find all the wonder that is out there waiting for you. Grasp it with both hands and enjoy every breath as you soak in the magic of it all.

I have imagined this day and thought it would never get here. I don’t want it here. I want you home in my arms.

But I hope I’ve given you wings to fly, and a heart filled with love to be your compass home.

I give you this day to take on the world and show them the fabulous boy that you’ve become.

Learn your ABCs. Learn to make friends. Learn to soothe some of your own hurts.

But know that when you need me, I’ll forever and always be waiting at home to be your mommy.

I love you Pookie Bear. You are my Bugaboo.

Fly safely and have fun.

Love, Mom

This pictures shows: Nicolas was ready!