I have failed. . . and I will continue to do so

This evening I feel like a mom failure, with a big, capital F. Malachi and I attended his buddy's one year birthday party, a joyous occasion to be sure. The party was held in a room at a park. It was tight corners, and there was not room in the room for baby's play. I held Malachi on my lap for most of the time, only to let him crawl on the floor a few times with my eye on him. At one point, a lady almost stepped on him -- (failure number one.) "Good thing, I looked down before I took a step" she said loudly. Yes, good thing. And I get the point: "get your baby off the floor."

My baby is now quite stout. In the past 2 months, he has really packed on the pounds (especially in the belly region.) It's no small feat to carry him anywhere, much less feed him and myself lunch single handedly out out of disposable paper plates. After painstakingly cutting up fruit and cheese into small bites for him, he proceeded to try and turn the paper plate upside down- his new favorite game. This wasn't woking. I then tried to give him some noodles from the noodle soup. He spit them out. I then gave him wild mushroom soup-- he delighted and cooed for more. And at this point (failure number two) I just kept feeding him wild mushroom soup because A: he was finally eating something (without trying to throw it on the floor) and B: he was sitting contentedly. If my transgressions had ended there, I don't think I would have felt the need to write this post. But they don't.

Jump ahead with me to one hour later. I have been juggling holding Malachi and letting him crawl with trying to sneak bites of food for myself. It's now time for cake and ice cream. I am still hungry, so you bet I am going to enjoy a sugary piece of cake. As I hold Malachi on my lap and get ready to sink my teeth into glorious marble cake, he starts reaching for my bowl. I push it further away, and he looks up at me and whines. Oh fine-- one little bite won't hurt? I give him a small taste of the ice cream. He loves it, and he is sitting contentedly on my lap. Sold! I give him several more bites of ice cream in between sneaking bites of the delicious cake.

Jump with me to 5:30. The party has been over for awhile, and we are at home. Malachi is crawling happily about the living room. Then I hear him grunt and hear the gurgle from his stomach. I change his pants only to find an explosion. Poop up to his shoulder with chunks of wild mushroom soup laughing at me. And I feel so terrible. I allowed my own "convenience" dictate what I fed my child, and now he has diarrhea. Lesson learned- I have failed, and I will not make that mistake again. But the thing is, I know that more and different mistakes await me as a mother. I am only human, and failure is part of my humanity. So I roll up my sleeves, wipe away the poop, and prepare for our next great adventure: this could get messy.

A Letter to My Dear Friends

Dear friends and family,

Thank you so much for all the support, encouragement, and prayers you have given me over this past week. I was doing an okay job keeping the pregnancy emotions all in check, but last week-end, an incident happened that triggered an entire bag of compulsive thoughts, insecurities, and anxieties.

To say that I cried a few times in this past week would be an understatement. There were big nose-blowing sobs on several occasions and other small tears while driving in the car. There were nights of rough sleep, and I even had to go home early from work one day because I felt sick to my stomach (probably distressed from the lack of sleep and loss of appetite).

But, I think that the trigger event was part of a much bigger fear, anxiety, and desire for control that I am becoming aware of as Rob and are about to become parents for the first time. I worry that any poor decisions I will inevitably make might hurt little T in some way. I worry that I won’t be able to protect him all the time. I worry that I will mess up and mess him up in the process. I worry about his safety-- both inside the womb and even more so once he's born. 

I can't comprehend this delicate situation we are entering into as parents. I feel vulnerable like my heart could break at any moment, and I don't feel emotionally strong enough to handle it. I do not consider myself an emotionally strong person; I purposely stay away from things that pull too hard on my heart strings. And yet, here we stand ready to have our lives changed forever by this little helpless human-being that God is entrusting to us. 

Time seems to be standing still and propelling forward at the same time. With each back ache and cramp, I think of all the things I need to finish before he arrives, and yet there's little I want to do except rub my belly and look forward to his arrival. I also have no desire to go out especially in the evenings. I treasure the precious few nights that Rob and I have left to just be at home together.  

Thank you again for all the encouragement you have all been through this emotional, roller-coaster of a ride. 

Stay tuned, 

Portia 

National Sibling Day

Today, I am grateful for my siblings. My brothers and I got along quite well growing up. Sure, there was the occassional fight, but in general we learned how to overcome our differences. I'll never forget going outside with my older brother week-day nights to shoot hoops while listening to the radio blaring from the open trunk of the car. Or, playing battleship with my younger brother Shane and trying to calm him down after beating him, time and time again.

For a short period of our life, we were also lucky enough to have some pets.  A family friend in town had three kittens that he needed to find a home for, and since our house was one mile out of town, we were a good option. Each of us siblings claimed and named one of the kittens as our own. The kittens personalities strangely reflected our own personalities at the time. My cat was extremely temperamental and liked peace and quiet. Nick's kitten was independent and brave, sometimes aloof. And Shane's cat was extremely laid-back and easy-going. Everyday after school, we would head outside and play with our kittens for a bit before losing interest and rushing off to make a fort or play on the swings.


Fast forward about 20 years to the present. Our lives are no longer as simple or worry-free as they were when we were kids, but we still enjoy hanging out or catching up on the phone. We respect one another and value each others' opinions. Just a few weeks ago, I called my older brother with a medical question, and just last week, I called my younger brother with a computer question. And although I'm sad that we don't live closer, I'm still so thankful for the happy years we had growing up as siblings, and then becoming friends.