I may have mentioned that I have a slight obsession with cake in the past, which is especially strange since I don’t really want to eat it, but just LOOK at it for many years to come (I have issues. Clearly). I specifically hunted down a local bakery that deals only with making cakes so that I knew I was getting the top of the (cool) line.
And I was not disappointed. In fact, I saw the cake and immediately wondered how I could preserve it so it could live with me forever and ever and ever. (Again with the issues). But I put on my big girl boots and eventually cut into it (maybe I shed a tear or three hundred when I did so. I’ll never tell).
See?
(note the Diet Coke can. Classy AND addicted)
(That CAN’T be a hookah! How could she incorporate DRUGS into her son’s birthday party?!?)
(Fuck YEAH, that’s a hookah!)
————–
Maybe you can see why my angel babies were attracted to my house for the party. They smelled the sugar.
Dear Alexander Joseph,
Exactly one year ago today at 5:18 PM (quite a civilized hour, which I thank you for), you rocketed out of my body and into the world, screaming and peeing, all 7 pounds 10 ounces of you. Like a small dog, you never realized HOW small you were. I’m sure in your mind, you thought that you were much, much bigger and more mighty than you were (that temper is directly related to my genetics. I’m sorry to see that you inherited that trait).
The first time I looked at you (after a record 2 pushes–let’s not say what THAT says about the size of my girl parts), I thought that you resembled either Alien or Predator (I’ll watch those movies with you when you’re a bit older). My own mother looked at me when I was born and said OUT LOUD “That’s a face only a mother could love,” so I guess corny sentiments don’t really run in the family. And as for your brother’s birth, well, I was just pleased that I hadn’t birthed a litter of puppies (he was my first baby, and I had had MANY weird dreams), and then shocked by his toupee.
(Yes, sweetheart, those ARE your fists of fury)
Despite your ugliness (which I seem to be the only one who remembers–your father thought you were gorgeous. He’s a good man, your father, and you’re lucky to have him), I loved you immediately. I didn’t much care if you were “perfect” in the 10 fingers/10 toes manner (I didn’t honestly care if you had only 3 fingers. Who needs 10, anyway? It’s overkill), because seriously, all that mattered to me is that you were alive and breathing. You did end up a bit jaundiced, and I likened you to a Nuprin–Little, Yellow, Different.
(Oh, the screams! Your poor, poor brother.)
When we brought you home, your father (who had couvade syndrome, better known as a sympathetic pregnancy) nested like mad, so proud was he that his second son was finally outside of his (cranky) wife’s body. And your brother was so pleased to have a brother of his own (he had no idea what “having a brother” meant) that he STILL happily wears his multitude of Big Brother shirts with such intense pride.
(Ben has an amazing sense of humor)
I call the first couple of months of your life, dear sweet Baby J, your Asshole Months. You nursed and screamed and nursed and screamed so very much that we all had permanent ringing in our ears (tinnitus). In those rare moments that you were out of our sight, we all interacted with each other like patients at a nursing home. “Huh? WHAT’D YOU SAY?!?” was a staple of our conversations.
Whether your love was for the boobies or for my sparkling wit and fantastic personality, I don’t know. All that I do know is that you could not bear for us to be apart for even a moment. An hour was inconceivable, and you were so damn loud that I learned to pee with you sitting on my lap. Often nursing, which goes against my whole “don’t shit while you eat” motto, but hey, it beats the alternative, which was the loss of several more decibels of my hearing.
(You fucking wit me, you’re fucking wit a P-I-M-P)
Something snapped into place around month 6 or so, and you then became the most cheerful and sweet baby I’ve met. You’d smile at anything and everything, laugh loudly and often, and in those small actions (should *I* act like you did, people would think I was quite Simple.) you made the sleepless nights worth every second. Now, you play ball with such incredible dedication that it touches everyone who you throw your ball to (you’re obsessed, my sweet) and your new game of Peekaboo gives you such a charge whenever you play it. It appears that every time you indelicately whip the blanket off your head, your not quite developed vocabulary wants to remind the world that you are here, damnit, so listen up.
(Glorious, glorious smiles for glorious, glorious food)
On a more corny level (don’t fear, I won’t say this to your face because I’m uncomfortable with emotions), I think of you as my Redemption Child, and as the saying goes, if the shoe fits, over-analyze wear it. My relationship with your brother is more complicated, of course, as your brother tends to be a more complicated person than you are. Dr. Spock told me (well, not me PERSONALLY, of course. He was dead by this time.) that you love your children differently, and I think he’s right. I won’t bother with the gory details as to what makes you different than your brother, but as parents are wont to do, I spent a good deal of my life thinking that your brother’s eccentricities were my fault.
You proved to me that without a doubt, although you both are going to need scads of therapy to undo the damage I will no doubt inflict upon you, that I am a good mother. You love me purely and simply and without complication. You love me for being me, and I can’t help but think that you were the child I’d never dreamed I’d be lucky enough to have (this is not to diminish the love I have for your brother, which is mighty and fierce, but this is YOUR birthday, not his). I feel the same way about your father (although, of course, you will never picture us as anything other than Your Parents, until you are much, much older and you realize where babies REALLY come from. Answer: Hot Beef Injection), but again, it’s YOUR day, my JJ.
But it’s also a day that we’re honoring other children too. Children who are not going to be coming over and sharing cake with you in the most literal sense, because they do not live on Earth with us any longer, but I am quite certain that they will be here with us in our hearts. If I try even slightly, I can hear them at the party: laughing, smiling and eating loads of cake. I wish, just like you do (and of course, their wonderful families do), that they were here today and every day, but the world can be a damn unfair place sometimes, which you will learn all too soon. This is why we must be the voice for those who have none, we must do this.
So today, one year ago since you entered the world madder than a wet cat Alexander J, we raise our glasses to you, our sweet angel babies, who should be here today celebrating. Since you are not, we celebrate YOUR lives as well. Smootches and cake and love to Heaven, for you today. We know all too well that the world is missing something incredible.
We’re thinking of you today Caleb, Baby JP, Kalila, William, Isabel Grace, Miss Maddy, William Henry, Aodin, Callum, Connor and Sarah, as we’re thinking of all the other angel babies I haven’t listed. We love you very, very much.
My only hope is that I prove to you time and again that I am up to the task of raising you to the best of my abilities. I may not be the wisest (I do many, many dumb things which you will notice and point out to me sooner than I’d like) person on the planet, but I have learned certain things that I wish nothing more than to pass down to you.
First, be genuinely kind to everyone you meet. Someone said that God is found in our interactions with other people, and despite not being Christian per se, I agree with that. I’m not saying that you need to be a doormat to be a good person, no, not at all. Stand up for yourself and for people who may need you to do it for them (not everyone is as forceful as you happen to be–I like to think of this as my contribution to your genetic soup), because sometimes taking a stand against a Wrong is the first step to making it Right.
I guess what I’m saying is don’t be an asshole unless you need to be (and I assure you without the slightest doubt in my mind that you will need to at some point), and treat other people well. You may never know where someone else is coming from, but that doesn’t mean you can’t try to understand. Walk a mile in someone else’s shoes before you judge them. Alas, since you don’t walk yet, we might have to save that lesson for another year.
Secondly, and equally as important, be true to who you really are. It sounds so simple when I write it, but it’s far more complicated, because first you have to figure out who the hell you are. That takes much longer than you can imagine. I know some people are still not sure who they are (even at my advanced 27 years), but I have little doubt that you’ll be a follower. Listen to your heart (or your head, if you’re like me) and follow what IT tells you, and not what someone else tells you to follow (nobody likes a follower) no matter who it is, unless it happens to be your mother (me), and then you listen like it’s the Gospel Truth.
(don’t listen to me, ickle dude. Just don’t.)
And possibly the most important lesson of all is this: do not, under any circumstances, allow your mother to pick your Halloween costume. It’s a bad, bad idea. See?
(Payback’s a bitch, eh? MAYHAP YOU SHOULD’VE STARTED SLEEPING THROUGH THE NIGHT SOONER.)
I won’t bore you with any other pointless crap that you will, no doubt, just like I did, have to learn on your own, so let me end this letter with this:
I am insanely proud that you were chosen to be my son. You light up my days (and thankfully, no longer my nights) with your sweet face and intense dedication, and I thank you for everything you’ve given me. Redemption is a little heavy to put on your wee shoulders right now, so let’s make no more mention of it, lest you get a big head or something.
I’m looking forward to watch you grow and change throughout to coming year, and can’t wait to see who you’ll become.
Love you madly,
Mommy
P.S. Make sure the next time you have to drop major pipe in your pants that you do it when Daddy is home to change you. I’ll give you a cookie if you make sure that your dump squishes up your back. He likes changing those diapers, let me tell you.
See how happy it makes Daddy when he has to change your diaper?
(Daddy says, “I love poopy diapers, dude!”)
P.P.S. I’ll give you TWO cookies if you do that. Maybe even THREE.
Alex turns one this Sunday, and I’ve spent the better part of the month of March feeling bittersweet about it. Sure, I’m sad that he’s grown so quickly, and I wish like hell I’d savored some of those infant days that I’ll never get back, but there’s something deeper than this afoot. It’s one of those things that I don’t often admit to myself or allow myself to talk about.
You see, I spent probably 98% of my pregnancy worrying that Alex would die. I worried when I had a Subchorionic Haematoma at 8 weeks, I worried myself to the point of sickness the day and night before the anatomy ultrasound, I worried using magical thinking. I felt that if I stopped willing him to live even for a moment, that he would slip away and I would never recover. I’m not pretending that what I felt was remotely in the realm of rational, it wasn’t and I knew it then and I know it now, but I swear that I was suffering from PTSD from my days (and nights) as a floor nurse.
Too much knowledge isn’t always a good thing.
As anyone who has read my blog knows, I was fortunate and had a happy ending to my pregnancy.
It isn’t often discussed, but other pregnancies don’t have quite the happy ending that I (fortunately) did. I have a number of dear friends that read my blog who have suffered the devastating loss of a child born still, and each and every one of their stories breaks my heart into a million tiny pieces. I cry with them, I cry for them, I get angry at the Universe just like they do. They are my friends (whether we’d know each other on the street or not) and I want to make it all better for them.
But I’ve always wanted to DO something for these wonderful women and their children, aside from offer them my condolences (and the occasional ass-kicking for those clueless fucks that mess with my people), which just doesn’t seem like enough to me. Not by a long shot.
So instead of buying Alex more toys and stuff that he doesn’t really NEED, I am making a donation in memory of all of the little girls and boys that can’t come to Alex’s party like I wish that they could. Well, actually, I’m making 2 donations:
One will be to Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep which is a not-for-profit agency that does wonderful work with taking gorgeous keepsake pictures of children. They rely on donations and charge no fees for this service, and I think they’re just wonderful.
Caleb is my sweet friend k@lakly’s son, who will always be remembered by his Aunt Becky and all of her wonderous blog readers. He will live on through all of us. We love and miss you so very much, Caleb, you brave boy.
Baby Jaguar Paw is my new friend a’s son, and even though I am new to learning about his life, I am full of love for him. He, too, will be forever in my memory, and all of ours. I speak for ALL of my readers when I say that we love him and wish he were here with us. Alex and I are sending a piece of cake to Heaven for him to enjoy.
Kalila is my friend Kristen’s daughter, who, like all of my angel babies, was taken far too soon. Today, and always we will each remember her and the joy that she brought to her Mommy and Daddy (and even her Auntie Becky). We love you Kalila and we miss you.
William is my friend G’s sweet son, who was with us for too short a time. Your Aunt Becky is sending you light and love to Heaven, today and every day. I look forward to the day when I am finally able to meet him and spoil him rotten.
Isabel Grace is my friend Sarah’s lovely daughter, and another that I have the pleasure of honoring with my donation. She is now and will always be missed from the world that we live in. Like all of my other angel nieces and nephews (Aunt Becky has no biological nieces and nephews and probably never will, so she is informally adopting all of you as her own), we pay tribute to her and her life through our kind and good actions. Hugs to you, Isabel, and your brave Mommy and Daddy.
Maddy is my friend Tash’s daughter, who is yet another young soul taken from her Mommy and Daddy too soon. She is now, and will be forever etched upon not only my heart, but of the hearts of everyone who has read about her. We will ALL do our best to honor her memory through this dedication and let her live on through us all, her Mommy, her Daddy, and her Big Sister Bella and each and every one of us. Alex hopes you like yellow cake, Miss Maddy, because he’s sending you a big, fat piece on Sunday.
William Henry is my friend Amy’s son, a gorgeous little man whom I think about quite often. I have a feeling that he and my Alex would have been great friends, and I am thinking about him today and everyday, and the gaping hole he has left in all of our hearts. We love you, little man. We love you a lot.
Aodin is Heather’s son, whose blog I have lurked around for ages thinking about her and her lovely son. Aodin is smiling down upon his brave, strong Momma today as she joins me in urging all of her blog readers to do something good and kind for someone else in honor of her Aodin. We all love you, sweet Aodin, and we all miss you.
Callum is my friend c’s son, a gorgeous little man who is missed. We will honor his life just as we have honored all of the little lives lost too soon. I speak for each and every one of us when I say that we wish you were here with us and your brave Mommy and Daddy. Hugs and smootches, Mr. Callum today and each and every single day. I’m sending them to Heaven.
Sarah is my friend Jenn’s daughter, taken from the world before she got to know how amazing her Mommy and Daddy truly are. She lives on in our memory and through her brothers and sisters, although, just like each and every one of my angels, we wish that she were here among us. Ice Cream and cake are being sent to you, Baby Sarah, tomorrow, and love and kindness every single day that we live.
Connor is my friend Tricia’s son, who will be remembered and honored by each and every person who reads this blog. We pay tribute to his life today and every day, and we will think of him with love often. We love you, Connor, and we wish that you were here with us.
Caden is my new friend Brooke’s son, and she has posted the most beautiful and heart-wrenching post about his memorial service. He is one of the most amazing babies I have ever seen in my life (honestly, I’ve seen many) and I, like the rest of us, including is strong parents, wish that he had not left us so soon. We love you Caden, and we’re thinking of you and keeping that thought in our hearts today and always.
IF YOU WOULD LIKE ME TO POST YOUR CHILD’S NAME HERE, LEAVE HIS OR HER NAME IN THE COMMENTS.
If not, just know that if I comment on your blog, and your blog is on my sidebar over there, I read you, and want nothing more than to have your children live on in my memory. So it was you, yes YOU, that I was thinking about when I did this.
Want to see some ripples and restore your faith in humanity? See what has been started (told you I had awesome blog friends):
Go see Ames (also Gracie’s Mom)
Visit Aodin’s Mom, Heather
Stop by Amy’s blog (William Henry’s beautiful and strong Mom) and see what she’s done.
Don’t forget to stop by Jen’s blog (and Sarah’s mother) and see how she’s making a difference.
My friend K is also passing on the love. Go see it.
The Rambling Housewife is also on board.
My favorite cake lady, Melissa is also taking part.
Don’t forget Mighty Morphin Momma, either (she’s unforgettable).
Heather is on board, too.
Kyddryn also is following the Love Train.
(Post something about doing good and kind and I will Pimp Your Blog Heavily.)
I made a donation to March of Dimes last week for my friend Amy’s daughter Gracie, but stupidly didn’t donate directly towards her goal for fund-raising. So if you’re interested, Ames is a cool chick and a good friend of mine, and anything you could do to help her reach her goal would be appreciated. Oh, and I WILL be donating again to you, Ames, just hang tight. Donations for MOD can be made UP UNTIL April 19th.
Either of these institutions would benefit from even the smallest donation (Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep specifically asks that visitors merely leave $5.00), so you don’t have to be all “I don’t have $100, Aunt Becky!” It’s cool, if you want, give what you can (I’m not a salesperson, obviously) and if this isn’t something that you care to give to, DO SOMETHING NICE FOR SOMEONE ELSE THIS WEEK (see, Aunt Becky gives you a decent amount time) in honor of Alex’s first birthday, and all of his little buddies who won’t be eating cake with him.
And shit, if you leave a comment telling me what you did that was nice and good and kind, I will randomly select one of you to send something to. I’ll BUY you something, because that is the kind of person Aunt Becky is: the kind that buys people stuff.
And the kind that believes in her heart of hearts that the world would be a better place if everyone was good to each other.
———-
Your Aunt Becky loves you, my little angel buddies, and she wishes that you were here on Earth with your Mommy and Daddy and Auntie Becky (who has been known to spoil children). Maybe she’ll see you in Heaven (if she’s good, like you are) where she can spoil you all senseless. Smootches to Heaven, my sweet babies, smootches to Heaven.
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