I stood in front of my bedroom mirror tonight and despite my best efforts, could not see my reflection. Depression has a way of making one disappear and today, you will not find me. Living with chronic pain has also crippled my mind as if a crippled spine was not enough to handle. I sit down and try to redirect my thoughts to a more positive place and finally find a trace of myself again.
My "Beethoven" baby was a ridiculously happy, easy and contented chap who when he started grinning at six weeks didn't stop for quite some time. Christian would break out into peals of laughter sometimes just catching a glimpse of my face, in fact, if I hadn't been so besotted with him, I might have developed a complex about it.
In the last month before he was born, I was the epitome of a nervous mother-to-be as not having any experience with babies, I felt very inadequate in this department. My mom, who didn't live in Calgary, didn't have the time off work to come and stay with me so I convinced my husband.. who was also dreadfully inadequate with children, that we would need a full time nurse for at least the first two to four weeks when the baby came home. So, it wasn't a surprise that my baby decided it would be best to stay in his mother's tummy an extra couple of weeks until the doctor forced him out.
It was a fast and intense labour, no epidural but not because I was brave but because the doctor's couldn't give me one because of my fused spine. Fortunately, I had a very special doula in the delivery room who gave me the strength to get through the pain- my aunt/sister/mother/best friend (our relationship is complicated) who was the first to hold him, tears streaming down her face. My poor husband, whom i had turned on in at the very end, yelling at him for not telling me that he had such a BIG HEAD, got to hold him second, cradling him gently. So, it completely surprised everyone who knew me that when this new mom, third in line to finally see the precious baby, gazed at her newborn's face- I fell not only in love but felt this overwhelming peace.
My darling grandmother was the first official visitor and when they placed my five-hour old baby son in her capable, loving arms, she gazed at him for the longest time, finally remarking through her tears that "Christian had the most knowing eyes for a brand new baby." Many people in the first few days noted the same observation of this beautiful baby with the solemn eyes, he already seemed to be having such deep thoughts for someone who had just arrived.
Three days later, a radiant new mother and her remarkable baby was driven home by my husband who after staying for a couple of hours left me happily alone in care of our new son. Well, that's not completely accurate, I did have two volunteer nurses who seemed rather incompetent with their overly enthusiastic approach and constant "checking up on" the baby until I finally raised my voice and told them to go lay down. They (my nurse dogs) weren't happy about that but after much sulking, they did agree to lie down on their blankets beside the bassinet. Our female sheltie dog, Stanzi was like a mini Lassie in both her looks and her intelligence and from that day forward whenever the baby cried, it was a race between her and I would look into the bassinet first. I often wondered if my "Beethoven" baby thought he might have two mothers, but considered that a plus that he was so well loved.
Friday, October 25, 2013
Thursday, October 10, 2013
The Beginning
To write a beginning is always rather daunting and even more so when it is your thirteen year old son that came up with the idea of his mom writing a blog. At first, I laughed at his newly mannish voice in the backseat almost casually making this suggestion. However, when he insisted that I take him seriously, I became deeply touched that my son would think that anything I had to say was of much value so without warning, my chest puffed out so much until it almost touched the dashboard. Really, I humoured him and what exactly would I write about. Something you know, he stated simply and I said in jest "Perhaps I should write about raising a teenage son" thinking he would retreat in fear. But my son only briefly paused before asking me what I would call my blog and then, without even a whisper of a breath, I uttered "Raising Beethoven," and realized it was finally time to tell his story. The title had always been carefully tucked away since the very day that my then precious six-year old son defiantly uttered those very words when I asked him for the umpteenth time, why he was being so difficult. The clear vivid picture of this beautiful, brilliant little boy standing there defiantly explaining, but in almost an apologetic way, "Well mommy, it's not easy raising Beethoven." I know that your first thought will be of disbelief that both a six year old child would think of something like that to say to his mother in the very moment of a dispute and it did shake me for a second until I realized that he had just explained himself not only most eloquently but in the most perfect way for me to understand him. Yes, I have a brilliant son, beautiful, gifted as you will learn and it has lead me on a path that I could have never dreamed for myself. But then, it's not every day, a mom gets to raise Beethoven!
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