We made a decision today that is going to change our lives completely. We will be living apart for an indefinite amount of time. This was an extremely complicated decision to make but it definitely seems necessary for our family at this point. My husband works out of a very small town in western New Mexico. There is nothing there but a couple of truck stops, motels, and a McDonald's. It's not a family friendly place to live. When we first met, this is where he was living and either he but more often I would make the two hour commute from my hometown to see him as often as I could. When we decided to move in together, I moved into his apartment there and things went down hill as far as our relationship was concerned. At the time, his shift changed every four weeks, it was the dead of winter and he was working midnights. Needless to say I was very lonely. We decided, given the situation, and the fact that he has two kids from a previous relationship that we would move to his hometown which would add a two hour daily commute to his schedule but afford him the opportunity to see his kids more often and me the opportunity to live in a place with more than one stoplight and actual job opportunities. We lived there for nearly a year before he was activated and deployed during which time we found out that we were expecting Sam. In light of the fact that my relationship with his family turned very very sour after we were married, we decided that it would be best for me to move back home during his deployment. We struggled terribly during the year that he was gone. Being a young couple, newly married, with a baby on the way added to the already stressful situation. When he got home last December things took a turn for the worst as far as our marriage was concerned and we seriously had to sit down and talk about if we were going to continue trying to make it work and how. We decided that despite all the arguments and drama, we did/do love eachother and want to make our marriage work. When it came time for him to return to his civilian job, we had to make a decision as to where we were going to live. I adamantly refused to go back to Silver and deal with his mother and his ex-wife so we decided that Deming was a fair compromise. In the six months we've lived here, we've made great strides in improving our relationship with each other. Obviously things aren't perfect and they will never be but we are getting a lot better about dealing with the challenges we face as a family. Living here is not easy on him as he still has a two hour daily commute but it has been especially hard on me being an hour or more away from my friends and family. This probably wouldn't be so bad if he worked a regular 8-5 with Saturday and Sunday off, at least then we'd know what to expect. The fact of the matter is, he doesn't. His shift changes every eight weeks, he works 12-14 hours a day not including his commute, and his days off change weekly. When he comes home, he's exhausted. Sam and I are home all day so if he's working midnights and needs to sleep during the day, it's up to me to figure out how to keep Sam quiet which more often than not, results in me making the hour long trek to Cruces to find something for us to do. The decision to live apart isn't a decision at all for a lot of his co-workers. Wives have moved down here only to bail and move back east because they can't handle small town life, some of his co-worker's families live in El Paso so commuting isn't even really an option. I used to say that this wasn't ever going to be us, but after trying and falling really hard on my face living in the situation we're in now, we've decided that we too are ready to go this route. He has put in for a transfer and applied to other jobs but the federal government works slower than slow and neither one of these options is guaranteed. I'm pretty terrified about this. Not about the fact that Sam and I will be on our own, that we've done before and realistically we do it more often than not out here too but that my husband will be happier living alone than living with us, that he'll choose not to spend his days off with us, that we'll grow apart (not that we're not dealing with some of this right now, resentment has a way of becoming a pretty solid wedge), that he'll discover he doesn't love me. I know that this sounds crazy and probably doesn't make a whole lot of sense and I'd like to be able to say they are legitimate fears but I'm not really sure that they are. After surviving the deployment (just barely) it seems counter intuitive to live apart but we're willing to take the risk at this point. My faith is being tested in a way that it hasn't been in a very long time. I'm a pretty big control freak and letting go and letting God has never been one of my strong suits but maybe that is why He is putting this challenge before me now. Right now, what I really need is a lot of prayer and a lot of support.

My husband and I were cleaning out some boxes in the garage the other night and I found some artifacts from my past that I had completely forgotten about. Once upon a time, I worked for Seventeen magazine, had a column in a local newspaper and was published in a few anthologies. By once upon a time, I mean when I was in high school. Growing up for me was more difficult than my parents had anticipated. Instead of the normal aches and pains of adolescence, life was complicated by real adult situations that at the ripe old age of 16 when I graduated from high school, I was in no way emotionally prepared to deal with any of it. The irony here is that through it all, all I really ever wanted was to be a wife and a mother. I had no fantasies of being a career woman although all signs at the time pointed to a great career in something writing related. At every turn, I knew how disappointed and disillusioned my parents had become because I was headed in the opposite direction of the great life they had planned for me. My mom never wanted me to be "ordinary" and although I think of a lot her plans had to do with the fact that she was in many ways trying to live her life vicariously through me, I understand now why she has been so frustrated with many of the choices I have made. As I was going through an old file folder with acceptance letters from many of the universities I had gotten into, my husband interrupted my nostalgia and asked, "If you had all of these things going for you, how did you end up here with me?" Now there is the million dollar question...

On baby's first birthday...

My son will turn one this weekend and I couldn't be more thrilled or more sad. It's strange. Since being a mother I have a real appreciation for the term "bittersweet." It seems as though every milestone is just that, bittersweet. I am so proud of my baby's accomplishments (walking, self-feeding, crawling, rolling over, burping, pooping on a particularly stressful day, all the things moms applaud their infants for that seem insane to people sans infants) that sometimes I feel as though my heart may burst. So here we go... To My Beautiful Baby Boy on his First Birthday, Thank you for choosing me to be your mama. You are the biggest blessing in mine and daddy's life together and we thank God everyday that we have you. You are so independent and outgoing. Silly and smart. I can see such amazing things in your future. You and I have been through so much in our short time together and I know I will never forget or regret any of it. As you continue to grow I pray that you continue to be independent and confident. With those two attributes on your side you can accomplish whatever it is your heart desires. I pray that you grow into a good man. Remember, it's not your place to judge others. We are placed on this Earth to love on another. Remember to be forgiving. Holding a grudge will only allow hate to grow in your heart and it is never ever ever ok to hate anyone. Don't forget to offer a smile and a wave to anyone you meet. A smile goes a long way. Always be polite and be honest. You should always treat others with honesty and respect. Remember that mama and daddy are here to support you. We are always on your side to hold your hand, to listen, to cheer your name, or hug you. Our love for you will never falter and never end. You will be loved forever. You are the joy of my life and I am so proud that I get to be your mama. Love, Mama

Better Late Than Never? (Breastfeeding and being a cheapskate)

My New Year's Resolution was to blog once a week. As you can see that didn't work out so well but in the past 3 months, I've had the opportunity to ponder some mom (non) issues that annoy the crap out of me almost as much as the "I birthed my kid in a wading pool in my living room with my entire family watching and while my 2-year old breastfed so I'm a WAY better mom than you" scenario. I just read a post on Baby Center about the appropriate length of time to breastfeed. Here's a newsflash you aren't under ANY obligation to breastfeed at all if you don't want to. NONE. Surprised? I think most moms-to-be would be. Ok so say you do decide to breastfeed; great. But whatever you do, don't do it just because you think formula is too expensive. I'm sick of parents trying to cheap their way out of everything. The cost of formula should have NOTHING to do with your decision. Just like you wouldn't buy a used carseat (or would you?), you shouldn't cheap out on FEEDING your kid. Yes, breastmilk is free but let's say you decide you're going to do it because you can't afford formula and then lo and behold! some issue prevents you from breastfeeding? Then what?

There are things you can be frugal about. Baby clothes? Definitely. Baby wipes? Sure if you find a brand you like. Diapers? I personally will only use Pampers (I have attitude about a lot of things including my diapers and wipes) but I know plenty of people that are content with generics. You may be able to be cheap about some other things too. If you don't have a need to use expensive bottles, by all means go with the cheap bottles and nipples. BUT if you have a colicky or gassy baby, then you need to invest in some Playtex Drop-Ins or Dr. Browns. (Speaking of Drop-Ins, you do not want to buy the generic liners. Stick with the actual Playtex ones.)  I guess you could say this is the "gray area" of baby gear. Things that depend more on the needs of your individual baby. There are things you should NEVER cheap out on. Car seats, cribs, baby food, formula and anything related to the safety of your child. I want a Britax car seat now that my son is outgrowing his infant seat (S1 by Safety First). It's well over $200, I've been saving since Christmas. Drop-side cribs are now illegal. Baby food might be an iffy subject. I feed my son primarily organics. I made his food for a while until he became picky and I no longer had the time to steam and food process all the fruits and veggies (nope not feeling guilty about this one either). I  have  known moms who will buy whatever formula is on sale instead of using the same one. This is not good for your baby. The only time you should switch formula is if your BABY needs a different formula. I'm not saying don't use the generic, what I'm saying is be consistent. I honestly don't know what the difference is if there is a different. I started my son out on Enfamil Newborn and when he got super gassy at one month, we switch to Enfamil Gentlease and all has been well since then. The bottom line here is that parenthood is expensive. Babies are expensive. Use coupons and make educated choices about what you are doing and why but if you tell me the only reason you're breastfeeding is because it's free then you should re-evaluate why your commitment to parenthood in the first place. Kind of reminds me of when teachers say they got into teaching so that they could have summers off. See my point?

On boobs...

I don't remember exactly what year it was, my mind is telling me 1994 but I can't be certain because I was very young, my grandma found a lump in her breast. It was breast cancer. She was in her 60s at the time and her oncologist recommended that she have a mastectomy to remove the breast and the surrounding lymph nodes. She had the option to have reconstructive surgery but she figured why go through more painful surgery after 60+ good boob years? I didn't get to visit her in the hospital and I don't remember her being sick from chemo or radiation therapy. What I do remember is the first time I saw her topless after her surgery. It looked like her breast had been chewed off by a rabid dog. It was red and angry looking and instead of being flat like I had thought it would be, it was concave. So in essence, she had the opposite of a boob, she had a crater in her chest. The incisions were not straight but ran jagged and the overall look was something out of a horror movie. My grandma lived a long time with these scars on her chest. She had a silicone boob that she would use when she went out to someplace special and a foam boob she would use when she was just heading out to the grocery store. When she was at home, she didn't wear any boob at all. I was always impressed by how well she handled her lack of a breast especially as I got into my teenage years and realized that I wasn't a late bloomer, I would just never really bloom. A difficult concept for me to come to terms with because my mom and my sister are both well endowed and I just figured I would be too.

Three years ago my grandma was diagnosed with lymphoma. Now in her 70s and suffering from diabetes, the prognosis was less than spectacular. My grandma died of complications from lymphoma after her first chemotherapy treatment caused her to develop a bacterial infection in her blood that she was unable to fight off. I was at work when I got the call that my grandma was in the emergency room. The urgency in my mom's voice told me I had to leave and I had to leave now. When I got to the hospital my grandma was in one of those curtained ER treatment areas on a gurney. Her blood pressure was low and she was having trouble remembering where she was and who she was and what was going on. My grandpa was sitting on a hard plastic chair next to her looking overwhelmed. I immediately knew that whatever happened that day would change my life forever, and it did. After some introductions the ER doctor called me out to the nurse's station. There she asked me if my grandmother had a do not resuscitate order. I knew that she did and I was told to send my grandpa home to get it. I was also told in no uncertain terms that if there was any family that was from out of town they needed to leave wherever they were, immediately. She stopped short of saying if they wanted to see my grandma alive one last time. I got the picture. I knew what was going on.

Soon my grandmother was having trouble breathing. The nurses were attempting to put a breathing tube in her throat but since my grandmother was in and out of consciousness she would fight them when they would try. I held her hand and told her it was ok. They were trying to help her and she needed to let them do their jobs. After the tube was in place, she would try to pull it out and again, I'd have to remind her that it was there to help and she had to leave it in place. After what seemed like an eternity, she was transferred to the ICU where finally she was sedated. It was a relief to see her resting peacefully after seeing the terrified look on her face every time she would come back to and try to pull the tube out. At this point, family had gathered and I was told to go home and shower get and some rest. I left the hospital uneasily. I knew that she was dying and I didn't want her to be scared when she left us. Within a couple of hours I was being called back. Her time was coming to an end. The priest had come and given her her last rites and minutes later she was gone.

Up until she had been diagnosed with lymphoma and started feeling really horrible, my grandmother got regular manicures, pedicures, and perms. She never left the house without painting on her eyebrows, putting a ring on every finger, and finding the right earrings to match her outfit. She had shoes in every color, outfits for every holiday, and jewelry for every occasion. After her passing, it was my job to get her makeup and to the funeral home. My mom had already taken her dress. I also had to go to Walgreen's and find the right shade of red nail polish for her nails. Revlon. I still have the bottle.  The only thing we forgot was her boob. Shortly before the viewing the funeral home director let us see her. She looked beautiful, except for the space on her chest where her boob should have been. We didn't have enough time to go find her boob nor we were sure that it would stay straight given that she was lying in the casket. But my mom came up with a solution. Since I've never been well endowed, I'd taken to wearing water filled pads in my bras. My mom knew this and before I had time to think she was reaching in my shirt trying to fish them out. Suddenly, my lack of boobs was a good thing. We didn't end up using the water pads. They were too heavy and too small to fill out the space. We did, however, find a box of tissues and we stuffed my grandma's bra. I just hope after all this time, her stuffing has held up.

On being a step mother...

I knew getting into this marriage that it came with the added responsibility of other kids. Falling in love with the kids actually came a lot faster than falling in love with my husband but kids are like that when you're the kind of girl whose only dream was to become a mother. Being a stepmother is very different though and it's further complicated by the fact that my stepkids spend an extraordinary amount of time with my mother in law who hates me and my husband's ex-wife and I have a complicated relationship to say the least. To make matters worse, my husband is deployed and I live 2 hours away from the kids. What does this mean? I haven't seen them since my husband was home on leave in June when our son was born and then my attention was on my newborn and my mind was in a haze from the sleep deprivation. His mother treats his two children very differently. She very obviously prefers one over the other and as a mother, I would never allow my children to be exposed to this kind of treatment especially not on a such a consistent basis but I'm just the stepmother which means I have absolutely no say in anything unless the children are physically with me. The issues with his mother are too long and complicated and emotionally draining to go over here. Let's just say she liked me for a little while, then we got married and she didn't like me anymore, then I got pregnant and she really really didn't like me anymore. The simple answer is she doesn't like me because she's jealous of me. Her son has found the kind of woman she always wanted to be. I'm the kind of wife that cooks and cleans and irons his uniforms and packs his lunch. I don't stay home because I have too, I have a Master's degree and some years of professional experience under my belt. And actually I work from home teaching college English so I'm a stay at home mom who still brings in some semblance of a paycheck although admittedly I make less than minimum wage when all is said and done. She's under the impression that I come from money because of the way I dress and speak and the fact that my parents both have professional jobs and drive operational vehicles. I don't really need to defend my upbringing or my family but I will give you some insight just to clarify. We're your average run-of-the-mill middle class family who lived paycheck to paycheck. My dad finished his college degree 15 years after he graduated from high school when I was 6. My mom and I were actually in college at the same time, she earned her Bachelor's degree two years after I did in 2007. They have both always worked full time. I have a sister and she has 3 kids and she doesn't have a college degree and she was ok with that for a while but now she's working on it which is no easy task with 3 kids. And that's it. We aren't really close with anyone else in our family. I worked my ass off in school to get a degree. Then I worked my ass off at my job and in graduate school to get another degree. I earned my MA in 2010 and we were married 2 weeks later. I found out I was pregnant in October, he deployed in January.

His mother has never acknowledged our son. Ever. She was very angry when she found out I was pregnant and I'm assuming she's remained angry because despite the fact that on a rare occasion I do hear from her, she's never once mentioned his name to me. I'm not exaggerating. Not once. I sent her an invitation to the baby shower and later I sent her the birth announcement. I thought maybe some goodwill gestures on my part would help. They haven't. And now I'm to the point where I'd just as soon keep my son away from her. But despite her neuroses, I can't keep my stepkids away from her.

For the first six months my husband was gone, I only heard about them through him which as you might guess was only bits and pieces because he's off in another country. After our son was born, his mother started to allow the kids to call me which they do on occasion. Usually to thank me for something I've sent them or to ask about their stepbrother. It's been hard being away from them. Before we left, I was volunteering in my stepson's class a few times a week and was as involved in their lives as I could possibly be. Now, I'm not sure where I fit in their lives and as much as I want my husband home, I'm terrified about what all is to come when he is home and we move back to the same town they live in and I'm left to deal with his mother and his ex-wife again. I'm scared for me, because now that I have the responsibility of raising my own child, I don't anticipate spending the kind of emotional energy I did arguing with them like I did before. I have him to think of and his needs and I'd rather him not see all the ugliness that goes on. I'm scared for the kids because they are going to have to adjust to a new situation all over again. I'm scared for my marriage because we have both been able to acknowledge that 99% of our problems stem from his mother and his ex-wife and the stress that whole situation causes. I'm scared for my son, because he's so innocent and I would die before I intentionally put him in a situation that could hurt him. Long before I became a mother, I couldn't understand how his ex-wife could allow her kids to be used as pawns and to use them as pawns herself but now that I'm a mother, I have an even more difficult time understanding it. And it breaks my heart in a way that I never knew was possible. I'm not a glass half full kind of girl, I have a hard time getting my hopes up, I am always waiting for the other shoe to drop, so what can I possibly anticipate from this situation? And is it fair to even try to guess what might happen? I wish I could see into the future so I would know what I was getting myself into. But I can't. In the meantime all I can do is hang on to the faith that my marriage is strong enough to survive this, I'm strong enough to survive this, and we'll all somehow come out better people in the end.

On finding our groove...

I am happy to say that my Sam is starting to get the hang of life outside the uterus. He's gotten over his fussy newborn stage and is now starting to make noises and smile and he's almost figured out that he has hands and he can move them around at will. He likes to be rocked to sleep, he hates the first 10 minutes he's in his car seat, he loves to take a bath especially getting his hair washed, he likes to listen to Baby Einstein lullabies while he sleeps at night, and country music while he naps in his swing. He doesn't mind that Mom doesn't actually know the words to any lullabies and will often resort to singing Journey songs while we rock in our chair. He needs to be burped after half of his bottle to avoid spitting up, he needs gas drops before every meal, and he tends to be in a better mood after he poops. He doesn't like to be swaddled but he does like his blanket wrapped tightly around his mid-section as long as his arms and legs are free. He loves to be outside and really loves to bounce. The bittersweet part about getting to know my baby is that his daddy isn't here to get to know him with me. For now, the occasional Skype date will have to suffice until we can all be together again.