memories of Mama

A mommy who plays in the snow!

One day, I remind Gwen, she will be a grown up. Its weird to her that she would ever live anywhere other then with us, its weird to me too! But I think she started to understand it more when she suddenly realized that I have a Mommy and Daddy too, and I don't live with them. A-ha!

I think about those days, and what she will remember of this time in our lives. A time that often feels too full of the mundane, with not nearly enough excitement. I had to have my own a-ha moment when I think about what my fondest and most common memories are of my childhood. Yes, I remember that school trip to Disney, but I don't think of it often. The memories that I think of the simple ones: My mom making me noodle soup. My dad reading to me while we waited for the bus in the morning. Playing in the woods behind our house. Lots and lots of time spent talking with my Mom.

Sometimes its so easy to get stuck on the idea that bigger is better when it comes to the special, fun things we offer to our kids. And these extra special things have their worth. We are excited for our trip to Disney for her birthday next month! But while Sesame Place was fun, and the zoo was exciting, I know that in the end its the repetition of "small" acts that will stick with her. Family dinners, where we all get a turn to talk. Back rubs and quiet singing at bedtime. Getting bundled up to play in the snow.

Those are the things I want her to remember anyway. I don't want her to childhood to be a wash of so many big things, I don't want her to think I always got what I wanted. I want her to think: everyday my parents took the time to listen to me, I know that my voice and feelings were important, and my parents loved to be with me.

milestones and reconnecting

This past weekend, Gwen had a bit of an adventure. For the first time she slept away from home without her father or me, her very first sleepover. Trav and I had a wedding to attend, and as it was very close to her grandparents' house, the easiest thing for all of us was to have Gwen sleep there. She was so excited for a sleepover with her Nonnie; Trav and I were so excited for a fun night together, and a chance for a bit of sleeping in!

It was surreal, driving away from my parents place. My preschooler was a baby just yesterday, and here she is, having her first sleep away. It was only for a night, but it was a milestone nonetheless.

Now, we are starting our week of vacation. Today is the beginning of our 3 days of camping, something I am so looking forward to. Life gets so busy and hectic sometimes. Its so easy to get caught up in the routine of the everyday, and let it all just slip by. We wake up, we get ready, we're off to school and work, we come home, make dinner, have bath time half the days, maybe have time for a brief play or some yoga, then its time to get ready for bed. A few precious hours of sleep and its time to do it all again. We get as much together time in there as possible, liberally sprinkle all waking hours with hugs and kisses and I love yous, but it isn't enough sometimes.

I'm so looking forward to the next 3-days as a way to relax and reconnect as a family. 3 days of enjoying nature, being outside (which we all love), hiking, cooking over a campfire, without the normal interruptions of school/work, chores, or technology. There will be no laundry, no dishes, no vacuuming. There will be no TV, no videos, no kindle, no computer. The iPhone will be there, but turned off in the car, in case of emergency only. We will sleep side-by-side, in our sleeping bags, under the moonlight. We will listen to the sound of the woods, and the rushing of waterfalls. We will make our fingers gooey with s'mores, then rinse them in the stream. We will hike until we are tired and sore, looking at all the beauty that the environment displays to us, then sleep deeply, satisfied. We will do it all together, without the normal distractions from each other.

Gwen is growing and changing everyday. I know these times are fleeting. This chance to reconnect is so cherished.

How do you reconnect when you feel like daily life is getting too distracting?

Flexibility: The Ultimate Sign of Strength in Parenting

For my son's first birthday, my husband found a deal online that was hard to beat, a $100 ball pit/tent on sale for $25. We were thrilled . . . until we read the reviews of it online. It turns out the supports tended to break and most people thought the craftsmanship was not good for small toddlers because it was too delicate. The ball pit lasted throughout our first home, but by the time we moved less than a year later, we had to buy new supports for it. This time, we anchored it to the ceiling and replaced the flimsy, plastic rods with wooden dowels. Still, by the time we moved from that home into our new one this summer, we decided not to put it back up because we knew that the dowels were likely going to break under the pressure our growing son would put them through without the added rafter support we had in the unfinished basement of the house we were moving from.

Yesterday, I found a play tent on sale. Because my husband is gone camping/kayaking this weekend with his family. I thought it would be fun for my son and I to set up our own tent at home and "play" camp. The supports for this tent were very different then our ballpit/tent had been. They were made of many pieces of plastic curved over a thick elastic center. It actually is amazingly flexible. This was perfect because that tent is exactly the type of playstructure my son needs. It is rigid enough to keep the shape of the tent and provide him with the stability of an indoor/outdoor private space. Yet, it is flexible enough to bend when it needs to instead of snapping under the weight of his constant testing.

I think the tale of the two play structures is ultimately the perfect metaphor for what real strength in parenting means. Often, as our children get older and more vocal about how they feel we get frustrated by their inflexibility and their demands. Too often, we, in turn, sometimes feel like we have to be equally inflexible to "show them who's boss" or "to give them structure." Even I've found myself sometimes getting into silly power struggles with my toddler before I've made myself step back and ask, "Is this really a time for inflexibility? Is this really what I want to draw a line in the sand about?" I've found that if I ever feel foolish about "sticking to my guns," than that is my sign that I should probably find a way to compromise or back out gracefully. (As a matter of fact, when I find myself thinking whether or not I should "stick to my guns," I usually discover I shouldn't. "Sticking to your guns" is about defending your life and being willing to shoot down others. . . not the image I would ever want to use when thinking about my relationship with my beloved son.) I'm usually pretty honest with my son about it, even though I know that he is barely three and doesn't really understand everything I am explaining to him. Sometimes, it's just as simple as telling him, "You know what? I've been thinking about how you feel about this and what you've been saying and I think maybe I was wrong and you were right. It is important that you wear some clothes to the store, but if you want to wear the same shirt you've been wearing since yesterday morning, well, okay. Who is that going to harm? It doesn't have any food on it or anything. Just put on some pants for mama and your shoes." Even a toddler respects a compromise when he hears it most of the time and he chose to put on underwear, pants, and shoes even though moments earlier he was demanding to be allowed to go wearing his shirt and nothing but his shirt.

Like the tent frame, there are times when I have no problem being absolutely rigid and holding my shape without compromise. In matters of safety (like my son's food allergies or running in the road), I am completely inflexible. I compensate by remembering to be soft and tender in the way I respect his emotions even as I am telling him absolutely no. I find it's actually pretty easy to be geniunely sympathetic and still firm with my limits when it is a subject on which I know I am in the right about it. When I get the most upset, childishly rigid, and downright power struggly myself is in the situations that are a little more gray. Because I am not completely convinced I am in the right, I play a caricature of myself in which I am Mrs.-Bossy-Pants-I'm-Adult-You-Are-Child. My son does not respond well to that person, and honestly, I wouldn't either. After all, my support for my argument is as flimsy as the support for the crappy ball pit tent. It's so rigid, it fractures when challenged. When I am at my best parenting my son is when I mimic the balance of the new tent frame. I am rigid when he needs support, but flexible when he needs that, too. When I am open to remembering that my relationship with my son is not about who is boss or who is right/wrong, I find the real power in our exchange with one another. It is the power of our mutual love and respect. He is learning to respect my experience and my ability to be flexible when I need to be (and rigid when I need to be) and I am learning (out of love) to respect where he is at in his learning process and that he may have something to teach me about how to really be a strong person and flexible mother.

So, for all those mamas out there who are at the end of their wits with children who are too inflexible and who constantly start power struggles with you, I offer you a hug and all my love. I am there sometimes, too. Keep in mind that the best way to keep your "shape" is to sometimes bend a little when the stakes aren't very high and when the fight isn't worth it. I'm not saying to let them "win" or to "give in," but I am saying that it's okay to find a compromise where you both "win" and where no one has to "give in." You are the frame of your relationship with your children. The strength of your relationship will be in the way you are willing to bend in order to teach your children how to bend themselves. Remember, an old stick is easily snapped and irreparably broken because it has lost its flexibility. A new branch is almost impossible to break because for all its stiffness, it remains flexible and alive inside. Be that branch, even if it is an olive branch sometimes, for the good of your relationship with your child.

Thanks for reading,
Shawna

On Letting Go

I’ve just registered my second child, my lovely little girl, to start pre-K in September. When she goes, our entire world will change, much as it did when my son, now in first grade, went off to school. Though we have (many) challenging periods, I often find myself on the verge of tears at the thought of my babies growing up, and so quickly.

I sometimes struggle to remember my son’s infant days. From the moment I saw him everything about my life was different, and I am a better human being as a result. But sadly, even before he was born, I had already begun letting go. It started with my pregnancy, which I gave over to tests and results and being poked and prodded by strangers with cold hands. It continued with my labor and delivery, which I gave over to lawsuit-fearing doctors and students, and pitocin and magnesium.

I spent my son's whole first year in this state of letting go. I have difficulty explaining it, but everything I did, from formula feeding to using swings and jumperoos to the car seat cradle my son spent an inordinate amount of time in, served to take me further and further away from my baby.

So many times I have wondered, now as a breastfeeding, baby wearing and attached parent, how much easier my son's first year would have been for both of us had I just breastfed him, or worn him, or read his cues a little bit better. So many times nursing calmed my daughter and I remembered being in similar situations with my son, where no amount of holding or rocking or binky or anything helped him the way nursing would have. So many times I have wondered how many painful, raw diaper rashes we could have avoided with my son if only we had cloth diapered him.

Now that my children are growing, I really understand how short this period of time is, how little precious time we get to truly be with our children. And so much is becoming clear. I always had such a hard time reconciling my feelings for my son with what I was actually doing. The need to attach was always present in me, but I didn't listen to it. I took the mainstream advice, the road everyone I knew at the time was taking, and it did not serve us well.

There's a small amount of time that we have as parents to start things off the better way, and give our babies the tools to deal with life and its ups and downs, with grace, humility, and love. I do my best to give my children those tools, as we all do—but I wish I had more time to make up for what I lost during my son's first year. I wonder if any of the battles we are having now would be different if that first year would have been different.

I’ve had no choice but to move on. I've had to mourn the time we lost, and move on to what we can do now. I am trying to fill each day with experiences and events that I hope my kids will remember forever. And yet, no matter what I do, how many pictures I take, or how many pages I scrapbook, I feel the days go by, the time slipping through my fingers with an almost cruel finality.

Perhaps because I am feeling this loss of time, both past and present, so profoundly, I wish I could tell the newer parents, the ones that can’t wait for their kids to learn to talk, to be potty trained, to go to school—all exciting and wonderful milestones; if only they didn’t come so quickly—how fleeting these first few years are. Should I tell them that each time that one of my children acquires a skill or learns something new, as excited as I am, my heart breaks a little? Sometimes I wish that I could magically extend my arms to reach around my son and daughter forever—so that they be protected and loved in my embrace no matter where they go. I’m trying desperately to hold on to this period of time when I am still attached to them somehow.

For me, attachment is about being close to your child. It's about teaching, about guiding, and about compassion. I’ve found that attachment doesn't have to be all or nothing. Ultimately, it’s not about how long you baby wear or breastfeed or co-sleep.

I bristle at the idea out there that in order to be an attached mom, you have to come last. Not true. I am not harried, nor have I left myself on the back burner—in fact, I take great care of myself. It took some time, but making myself a priority has been the best thing I could have done, and it allows me to be even more attached to my children and more attuned to their needs, because my needs are being met.

I also think we have to be realistic about expectations and just how joyful attachment and parenting in general are “supposed” to be. I’ve always had the most difficulty remaining attached to my children when I feel that whatever is happening in the moment is falling short of my expectations. When I let go and relax, things turn out alright for the most part.

I read Glennon Melton’s “Don’t Carpe Diem” a couple of months ago, and though a lot of it resonated with me, it also served as a reminder that I want to strive to be more positive during my day-to-day grind. In general, I want to be able to take the difficulties in stride, and recognize that most things are just a phase. I’ve talked before about my temper and the difficulties it presents for me, and I find it easiest to control myself when I keep things in perspective. I've made a point, in the last six months, to decrease outside stress and noise and focus on myself and my family, and it's made a huge difference for me.

The only thing that remains constant in life is that time always passes. My husband will eventually come home, my kids will eventually go to bed, and I will eventually get through the day, no matter what happened or how frustrated I got. As tough as things can get with small children, I don’t ever wish that we were anywhere instead of being right where we are now—together, appreciating and loving being together. Again, all that takes time, and it is the gradual realization of all these little things that helps during the bad moments.

Sure, there are unglamorous things involved—leaking nipples, boogers, butt-wiping, and the like. Honestly, for me, those things are par for the course. It makes me sad to hear moms lamenting about what important jobs they had in the corporate world before children, and the current feeling of having been reduced to nothing but a heinie-wiper. I wish we didn’t find this type of work, the work of mothering, to be so demeaning. There’s nothing demeaning or shameful about raising another human being. And well, yes, these little beings are going to need their nails clipped, their snots wiped, and you will have to get down on your hands and knees more than once to clean up the mess they’ve made on the floor.

When the day seems never ending and my frustration has reached its peak, I’ve started to give myself a pep talk. “Hug your babies and keep them close. Time is fleeting. Savor it, cherish it. Appreciate the challenges as much as the joys. This precious time will be gone before you know it.”

And then I’m off to wipe someone’s heinie.

Birthing (and Re-Birthing) a Mother

"The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new." ~Rajneesh

Our babies births are not the only births that are important. We become the mothers we are through a variety of different channels and experiences and, if we do so mindfully and really embrace change, we continue to evolve and grow just as our children do. In the end, we birth ourselves into the new world of motherhood and, later, we can emerge as better mothers and women. I truly believe that birth is just the beginning of that path. Clearly, a good birth experience can be a wonderful beginning for that journey. However, we sometimes focus a little too much on the actual, physical birth experience and not enough on the spiritual evolution of what it means to be a mother.

Recently, I was reading about birth and I came across an article that disturbed me. (I will not mention the article or the author of this article because I feel that midwives are already maligned too much and I do not want to impugn all the good she writes and does for women and their births because of one part of one article.) I'm not as "birthy" (yet!) as some of the other amazing women I know, but I do love a good birth story. I whole heartedly believe in a woman's right to choose her birth and that women in our current birth culture are not given all of the information they actually need to choose the best birth possible for themselves and their babies. Women also often don't have enough access to birth settings that are best for them because of insurance concerns. However, in this article, the author was talking about the long term effects of birth and mentioned a conversation she had with another midwife in which the midwife pointed to women playing in a swimming pool with their babies and stated that she could determine the kind of birth (natural, cesarean, or medicated) each baby had by the connection (or lack there of) the mother/baby had in the pool. That moment cut me to the quick because I am a mother of a baby born through cesarean and it hurt me deeply that there was an assumption that because of the way my baby was birthed, we somehow could never grow as deeply connected as mother and child as a mother who had successfully had a natural birth and that difference would somehow be obvious even to the most casual (but interested) observer.

As important as birth is (and it is very, very important) to the health and well-being (physically and mentally) of both the baby and the mother, it is still only one part of the relationship between mother and child. When a c-section happens it is still a birth; when a medicated birth is chosen, that is still a birth. Both are just as much new beginnings for mother and babies as much as natural births are and each new beginning holds just as much promise as the next one for the people who are involved in it. Bonding after a cesarean or a medicated birth is not impossible and lack of initial bonding (should that occur), is not as insurmountable as the author seemed to suggest in that vignette. In fact, what brings many women into birth activism and attached parenting practices are their difficult birthing experiences and from those sad beginnings spring strong women who work tirelessly to connect to their children in new ways and to make birth safer for the women who become mothers after them.

Our children may only be physically, literally born once, but they are spiritually born many, many times as they grow and change. We, as their mothers, also have the chance to birth ourselves into new kinds of mothers and women. Every day, we are offered the chance to make a new start and, personally, I avail myself of those opportunities as often as I can. When we focus too single-mindedly on the importance of physical birth and any regrets we have about our past decisions, we risk missing the rebirth we have available to us every day. I know that my son and I are not the same people who met on the day of his birth after an unplanned c-section. We have grown beyond the mother and son that were birthed that day. The love we share and the relationship we have worked to build has helped us evolve into something better. I love him more every day. If we were swimming in that pool, I don't think anyone could ever see us as anything other than what we are, a completely bonded, loving mother and child in spite of our less than perfect birth experience.

Thanks again for reading,
Shawna

The Language of Loving Your Child

When people hear that I have a 9-yr old in addition to my two babies, the response is always the same: “Oh that’s so nice! He can help you out with the little ones! I’m sure that makes it much easier.” While it is true that he helps me out and that I’m not sure what I’d do without him, having a child who is so much older than the other two is painfully difficult. Their needs are so very different and switching between toddler and newborn mode to nearly-tween mode is, to say the least, mind-boggling. At least it is for me.

Styles is a fantastic child. He gets good grades in school, plays soccer, is more than willing to help me out with the babies and mundane housework like switching the laundry over, and yes, he does make my life easier with the two babies at times. I’d be a milky mess if it weren’t for his willingness to get me breast pads on a whim. Madilyn would be much more difficult than she already is if he didn’t play with her as much as he does. And the house would be a constant disaster if he didn’t help me out with picking up Madilyn’s destructive messes. So I guess you could say that in a physical way, having an older child makes my life a little easier. But in an emotional and mental way, it is astonishingly taxing.

Obviously the newborn requires lots of cuddling. I cuddle him while he sleeps and while he eats. When he cries, I immediately run to his aid. The toddler requires nearly as much attention as the newborn does. I’m constantly running after her keeping her out of trouble (or trying), picking up her messes; feeding her when she wants to be fed because, you know, meal time is NO time to EAT; scolding her to help her learn to be a productive member of society, and catering to her toddler emotions which require cuddling and as much one-on-one time as I can provide. I am with the babies all day long so there are many opportunities to take pictures of them. I play dress up with Madilyn, we color, paint, play bubbles, and go to the park. Grady is growing daily and changing rapidly so I try to not miss out on any Kodak moments, and there are many.

Styles sees all of this and I know that it hurts him on some level. It’s difficult for a 9 year old to understand that I can’t cuddle him all the time the way that I used to – he has homework to get done and a room to clean. He doesn’t get to sleep with us anymore because the baby does and it just wouldn’t be safe in our Olympic Queen – he’s a MMA champ in his sleep. The Kodak opportunities aren’t as readily available for him as they are for the other two. He wakes up in the morning, goes to school, comes home and does homework, goes out to play with his friends, eats dinner with us, and then goes to bed. On the weekends, he enjoys spending time with his friends as opposed to being holed up in his room (I’m not complaining!) He is at a difficult age where he is experimenting with lying, deception, talking back, inappropriate usage of language, and just general defiance. He gets disciplined more than the other two children at this time in his life. But it’s not because he’s a bad kid, it’s because he’s in a completely different place in his life than they are. It’s just the natural course of life. He plays soccer and I’ve seen him looking for my watchful eyes as he plays. I know that he wants to know I am paying attention to him, and only him the whole time he is on the field. But I can’t do that. I have a supremely active toddler that I have to corral and the newborn who inevitably wants to eat every time Styles steps foot onto the field. I do my absolute best to cheer him on and to let him know that I’m watching and taking pictures every time his foot touches the ball. I am very proud of his efforts and I want him to know that. But when my attentions and affections must be shared by his two very demanding, much younger siblings, how can I let him know how much I love and adore him?

I struggle with new and fun things to do with and for him because my husband works very long hours as a restaurant manager and much of the time it is just the kids and me. We don’t really have the financial resources for me to get a babysitter on a regular basis so I often have to do things around the home or take the other two with us. I have, however; come up with a few things that you can do to make your older child feel just as much love now as he or she did when they were adorable little bundles. These apply to all older children, not just ones with much younger siblings.

My top 11 Favorite Ways to Show my Elementary Schooler that he is Important to me:

1. Write love notes on a napkin and put it in their lunchbox. I don’t do it every day because I don’t want it to lose its magical powers. Every so often, I use a Sharpie to write something special to him.

2. Hide cards in random spots for your child to find. Hallmark has a really cute line especially for kids from their parents for absolutely no reason. I found one recently that told the child how important they were to the family dynamic. I put it on his pillow before he went to bed that night. I’ve also hidden them in his LEGO boxes, on top of his video game system, in the pocket of some pants, in his shoe, and in the drawer where he keeps his toothbrush. Keep it interesting and fun. And remember, you don’t have to buy a card. Make a handmade one – those are just as fun to a child.

3. Make a special breakfast for them. Styles’ favorite thing in the world is bacon. Pair that with a freshly baked blueberry muffin, and I’ve won his heart (and his good behavior) for at least 24 hours. Figure out what your child LOVES to eat in the morning, wake up early, and allow them to arise to the aroma of their favorite food. It is a mouthwateringly simple way to show them you care.

4. Allow your child to take a random day off from school and do something they love to do. I don’t do this often. My child’s education is very important to me, however; he gets great grades and is in the gifted program. To reward him for his hard work once per quarter, I let him sleep in one morning (without his prior knowledge), and then take him to do something fun. When we lived in Orlando, we’d go to Disney. Now we go to the beach, the park, to play Putt-Putt golf, or a movie. I like making it a random Wednesday to break up the monotony of the week and each little break is so appreciated by him.

6. Surprise your child with something that they’ve been pining after or saving their money for. This is another one that I don’t do on a regular basis, but sometimes when I’m feeling especially loving and generous I’ll pick up a LEGO set that Styles has had his eyes on for some time. I wrap it up and put it on his bed for him to discover when he gets home from school. I like pretending that I don’t know how it got there and I love seeing the delight in his face. Now if I could just get him to stop talking about how excited he is for a week straight, I’d be much obliged.

5. Dress up and take your child on a date. We haven’t done this in a while but I used to dress us both up in our Sunday best, get Styles a little treat or a bunch of flowers (he loved that), and take him to his favorite restaurant. He loves calamari so we’d start with that, I’d let him eat whatever he wanted to off of the menu, and then we’d round it out with dessert. Sometimes we’d follow dinner up with a walk around the lake at the park or a movie. There have been other date nights that involved a simple picnic dinner outdoors and stargazing with our telescopes.

7. Look at your child when he or she is talking to you and at least pretend to be interested in and excited about what they are saying. I have a hard time with this. Styles is an incessant talker. Sometimes he talks just to hear himself talk and what he’s saying has no relevance to…ANYTHING. Because of this, I often find myself zoning out when he talks. Lately I have tried to be more attentive to his stories but I have also had to learn to tell him when I am available for intent listening and when I’m not. When I AM available, I stop what I’m doing, look him in the eye and engage him in a conversation.

8. Plan a game night. Styles absolutely loves to play board games and so do we. We pop some popcorn, allow him to pick out the game, and we play for a predetermined amount of time. This is generally a weekend activity and we always wait until his little sister has gone to bed so that he has our full-on attention

9. Ask your child how they are feeling and what is going on in their personal lives. Even children who talk a LOT are sometimes reluctant to express their feelings. It is important for us to know what is going on in their lives and to remain connected to their feelings. When I notice that Styles is in a melancholy mood, I sit him down and ask him what’s going on. It often takes some prodding but I remind him on a regular basis that he can talk to me. I have also opened the floor recently for him to tell me when I’ve hurt his feelings in some way. I want the lines of communication to be open especially as we enter the scary teen years. I want to be the first person he comes to when he is in a situation where drugs or alcohol are involved and when he decides he’s ready to have sex. That communication doesn’t come over night. You have to plant the seed and water it daily for it to grow, long before they reach those scary years. This one on one attention allows your child to know that you are available for them, even if you have other children or situations vying for your time.

10. Remember that your child is still a child. Styles is very mature and intelligent and I often forget that he is still a child. I was reminded a few weeks ago that he is just a child as he was taking a bath and telling me about his latest toy. His small frame was covered in bubbles and I remembered being 9 and loving to play with my “My Little Ponies” while I was talking on my new phone. This is a particularly difficult stage between child and teenager and I try to remember that when he asks to cuddle with me on the couch, to take a bubble bath, and romp in puddles. All of this after he’s talked back to me and told me what HE thinks is best for his life. Allow your older child to still be a child.

11. Have your child help you in the kitchen. Cooking can be really fun. Sometimes I have to beg Styles to get in the kitchen with me but once he feels like he’s in charge of measuring all of the ingredients, he becomes much more interested in spending time with me behind the stove. We recently made homemade ice-cream in plastic bags. It was a fun science experiment with a super-sweet reward in the end.

Of course there are many ways to let your child know that they are loved but these are the ones that I try to implement in our household. What do you do to let your older child know that they are loved? If you’re reading this and have teenagers, what do YOU do? I’d love to get new and fresh ideas and I hope you have taken something away from reading mine.

Impossible Love

I never knew if I wanted children. Growing up I never had a great relationship with my mother. That mother-daughter bond was never there, and she never really had an appreciation for her children. I can't recall a time when my mother was truly and genuinely happy being a mom. Those little moments of sharing an ice cream cone or dancing silly. Those moments never happened for us. My mom didn't have an easy childhood. She came from a family of 16 children and true poverty. For this, I believe she learned to be selfish at a young age, and it certainly followed her into adulthood. When there were onlookers, she would pretend. She pretended well, but when the show was over, so was the fun. I don't have many good memories of my mother growing up.

My dad has always played a very intricate role in my life. My dad was always the one that took interest in my activities, the one to motivate me into doing activities, no matter how loopy or short lived the interest was. He would wake up at the crack of dawn to drive me to the barn so I could ride. He would delay paying bills, fixing the vehicle or cancel a fishing trip to make sure his kids were taken care of and had what they needed. That was natural to him, and he would never think twice about doing it. I won't say my dad did everything perfectly and never made mistakes, because he did. We all do, both as children and as parents. I can't say that I always recognized and fully appreciated his efforts and sacrifices; does any child? It wasn't until adulthood, and more so parenthood, that made me realize how much my dad did for me. He is an amazing person with a heart so big that it is often taken advantage of.

When my husband and I met we both stressed we didn't want marriage or children. Drink, party and fun. That's what our life was. My husband, a hip and handsome band guy, also lacked the bond with his father that I lacked with my mother. I am sure this also played a role in his decision to not wanting children. His dad was always in the background, while his mother and step-father were the ones who raised him. They did a wonderful job, but I am sure my husband always longed for his father to invest interest in him as I always longed for it from my mother. In us lacking that important bond, we both feared having children of our own. How could we possibly become a mother and a father when we didn't learn first hand how it was to be done?

My husband and I found ourselves unexpectedly pregnant just before we married. We were shocked, terrified, then incredibly excited. Not too long after finding out, we found ourselves in the situation of a great loss. I had miscarried and it destroyed us. It tested our love for each other as we hit a path of depression. We didn't plan it. It wasn't an intentional pregnancy, but that pregnancy became so wished upon and loved. That event brought us even closer together, and showed us that despite our fears, we did want to become parents.

After we married we knew we wanted to have a baby. I believed it would be simple. I mean, we found ourselves pregnant without trying. Month after month, nothing. I would POAS (pee on a stick) every month only to be disappointed. I would see others who weren't trying, finding themselves pregnant. I was jealous, discouraged and unsettled. Was there a higher power telling me it wasn't meant to be? Is this a sign that I'm not fit to be a mom? We pushed forward. After about 9 months of trying, it happened!

We had been out on the boat all day with my husbands family. Tubing, water skiing and some beer drinking. I had stopped POAS at this point because the disappointment was unbearable. While my husband and I were tubing, I jokingly said "it would suck if I found out I was pregnant" because bumping around on the tube, drinking beer and eating junk really wouldn't be ideal to say the least. I knew I was late, but I often was. That evening I decided to get a home test. I expected it to be negative, hence the tubing and beer drinking, but it's almost an obsession when trying to conceive. You have to pee on that stick. I peed, waited 30 seconds, and squinted and hoped to see those lines. Almost immediately they were there! Positive!!! I ran out to my husband with a giant smile and shared the news. We were over the moon!! We laid there telling each other not to get too excited yet. You never know how things could turn out. Who were we kidding? We were already discussing names! I photo messaged a picture of the test to my SIL, who was about 3 months pregnant herself. I had to tell someone! My husband and I would say that this was the most wanted pregnancy in the world. We were walking on clouds.

After a pregnancy full of every symptom and ache and pain you could imagine, my son was born. Love at first sight does exist. The love for my son consumed me. From that moment on, I was to be known as Mom. My husband and I would stare at him and tears of love, joy and relief would fall from our eyes. There he was, our life. Spewing those words "My son..." the first 1000 times gave me a rush. My son! I have a son, my baby, my pride, my everything! Amazing.

In having experienced bringing life into the world, it has led me to even more questions about my mother, my ability to parent in a healthy fashion and how my boys will reflect on their childhood. While I will always question how a mother can live every day not knowing how her child is, or knowing who her grandchildren look like, I know that my ability to raise my children into well adjusted, loving and emotionally stable adults, is more than apparent. I will never be the perfect parent. I will make mistakes I wish I could redo and fix. I will question myself on more than 100 occasions, but I can promise myself, my husband, and most importantly my children, that I will always and forever give it my all. I will be a better parent than my mother, I will always put my children ahead of me, and they will always have the necessities in life, no matter what my husband and I have to do to ensure this. Cancel a hair appointment? Done. Delay a bill payment for a month? No problem. My children will never have to question whether or not their parents love and adore them. They will never have that feeling that they don't get enough hugs and kisses, or that we don't care. Because of how we were raised, we overcompensate. We snuggle, tell our children we love them hourly, and more importantly, act in ways to show our true devotion to our children.

In the end, your childhood doesn't have to reflect on who you become as a parent. It is up to you to make decision to give your children everything you have to offer. Bond (with your parents) or no bond, it doesn't matter. If you want to be a supportive and loving parent, you can be. As adults we make choices. The choice I made was to be the best parent I can be, and it has been the most rewarding choice I have ever made. Hug your babies, sing a silly song and make memories. That's what life is all about.

-Connected Mom, Tammy