Second day

I'm sitting here, out on my deck with my one eyed puppy and four chickens pecking around the back yard. It is only the first warm weather days of Spring. We had a difficult winter. It has been cold and we have had a lot of snow. The windows are open and I hear my kids arguing in the kitchen behind me. Every so often my baby girl, who is now almost 4 years old, runs outside to push her baby in a shopping cart right through the wet grass.

Baby girl got into my old pictures earlier today and we came up with this gem above. My sister and me. I sent it to my siblings and father. I know they will like it. I remember my father taking it during a summer vacation in Maine. The physical differences are so obvious to me. It's a sweet picture.

It is my second day of writing. I have thought about it for years and finally feel able to start work on my memoir. I can produce a memoir that is a vivid look at my emotions and feelings through it all but most of all my growth and healing. I feel completely naked and fight the urge to cover up.

I hope that people can see that they are stronger than they believe. I hope that they take risks. I promise to be honest and open. This will be my journal during the process. I will share it with you and how it feels to go back to it all.

Knowing that sometimes, the only way to have peace is to know all the "Pieces".



Please forgive the typos and shortness.. Written on iPhone.

a girl

I am now pregnant and we have just found out that she is a GIRL!!!

As soon as I found out that I was pregnant again I secretly hoped for a baby girl. I could just imagine all the great clothes I would dress her in. I was thinking how cute she will be. Maybe she will have red hair like my gorgeous son. Maybe she will have dark brown, like her mommy.

But then it hit me. It hit me like a ton of bricks. A ton. I was going to be a mother to a baby girl. A girl. One day a teenage girl. I convinced myself that I do not want a girl after all. A boy would be much better, a brother for Noah. And I would not have to relive my childhood just looking at her. I would not ruin a boy. They are more resilient. All they really need is a good dad anyway.

Then the day came. The day when we could be told what this baby is. We were so excited, going crazy really waiting for the appointment. She showed us the baby's feet, head, arm, legs, heart, bladder, heart. And then she showed us her bottom and right away I could see. I saw that it was in fact a girl. A GIRL!!!! I cried and I couldn't stop. I was so worried about being disappointed if it was not a girl that I convinced myself that I wanted a boy. Then it turned out that, in fact, I DID want a boy. All I could do with a girl is ruin her. I could not be a good mother to a girl. what if I get angry with her and yell at her or spank her. I will scare her for sure. I will be as bad a mother as my mother. My mothers. I don't deserve to have a girl.

As the day went on I could not stop crying and worrying about my baby girl. So many emotions. I was sure that finding out the sex of this baby would help me to bond even more with her like it did with my son. But in reality, it pushed me away from her. Then the paralyzing fear set in. The fear that something would happen to her and I would live with the guilt of these emotions for the rest of my life. The fear that she was feeling how I felt about her being a girl. The fear that she will feel the way that I did growing up. The fear that even the smallest parenting mistake would make me as awful as my parents. The fear that she would hate me and then in turn, hate herself as much as I did growing up. How could my mothers fail me and me not fail my daughter.

My daughter. I kept saying "my daughter" over and over and over again. Just trying to get used to the fact that I was having a girl. That day did not get any better. I could not convince myself that she would be OK with me as her mother.

It look weeks of going through my emotions, talking to my husband and a couple of friends, shopping ALOT for her and painting pictures for her room for me to actually be excited. I am still scared out of my mind, but not nearly as much as I was. I am less afraid of harming her and more afraid of reliving my childhood when I look at her. I am scared to go to those emotions again.

I love her and I can not wait to meet her.

Amazed

Everyday I am amazed at how wonderful my son has made my life. How much life and happiness he brings me.

There is so many things that I want for my son, so many things that I try to give him every day. I want him to be independent and strong. I want him to be assertive and intelligent. I want him to be forgiving and kind. I want him to be adventurous, yet cautious. I want him to want everything out of life. I want him to be able to find his partner in life and be able to love them forever. I want him to be loyal and caring. I want him to be free of guilt and regret. I want him to learn from his mistakes. I want him to have the best life that I can imagine.

So, my question to you and to myself every single day is, How do I do that? How do I make sure that I give him all of the tools that he needs to make his life a great one? How do I not scar him in the process? How do I be that mother I never had, and always yearned for? How do I do that?