THIS IS WHY YOU CALL ME MOM

There are some days that feel like every other day: the days I wake up, brush my teeth and shower, either fight the angry wave in my hair or let it be, experience the magic of an eyebrow pencil, slap on a coat of mascara, wake up my babe, get her dressed, head to daycare, head to work, come home, eat some meatless meal, fight over the remote (seriously), and head to bed to do it all again the next day.

Because I'm Sol's mother.  I am Sol's family.  I spend 50+ hours a week away from her so that I can provide a beautiful, comfortable life for her.  And in those 50+ hours each week, I lose track of time.  I get home from a long day at work and forget to look at her... to really look at her and see the beautiful girl that's growing far too much, far too quickly.  I forget to look in her eyes and see the swirl of colors... the eyes that were once blue, but now are changing to the most unique shade of brown/gray/blue.  I forget to look at the color of her hair and see how perfectly it matches mine.  I forget to hold her tiny hands in my palms and see just how tiny they really are compared to mine.  I forget to look in amazement at her tiny-but-oh-so-perfect fingernails. 

I forget all this, and within a few short weeks I realize she's different.  Her sideswept baby bangs are long enough now to tuck behind her ear.  I realize that her once-chunky legs are more slender and toned, because OHWAITSHECANWALK.  I realize that her feet aren't just luscious little lumps of baby fat anymore and all of a sudden shoes actually fit her; and not just that, but her feet are too big now for the red Toms shoes that I've been trying so desperately to fit around her feet.

It's no wonder the days fly by. 

It's easy to do the same thing every day, and not realize that today is 1 day more than yesterday, not realize that today I am 1 day older, that my daughter is 1 day further from the tiny human who greeted the world just a year ago, the tiny human who once fit *just ever so perfectly* in the crook of my left arm.  It's not until I rifle through old clothes and hold up a newborn outfit, then a 3m outfit, then a 6-9m outfit, then a 12m outfit, and I see that my baby (and I use that term loosely) doesn't fit into a-n-y of those things, that I realize how quickly my life is racing by.

Most days are the same.

But then there are days like this weekend.  Solchop was sick again.  Thursday she fell prey to a nasty double ear infection; Friday she was sent home from daycare with a fever.  Saturday went downhill really quickly: fever, vomiting, no eating/drinking, screaming, screaming, screaming.  So I took her into Bronson and spent the evening watching my little sweets, clad in a peach-hued hospital gown, being pumped with codeine. Sure, it was just an ear infection gone mad.  But she was in agony, and while we were sitting on that hospital bed I felt my heart crack open, spilling out lovelovelove for the child wailing on my lap.  The child who was in so much pain that she was making herself sick by sobbing.  As I wiped up the strings of green mucus that were erupting from her mouth, I couldn't imagine spending Mother's Day weekend any differently.  We sat there together amid the mechanical beeps, amid the chatter of the medical staff, and I vowed that I would give anything to somehow magically transfer her pain into my own body.  Tears rolling down my cheeks as we sat together in the hospital bed, I held my sick daughter and caressed her bare back beneath the hospital gown as she mellowed into a pharma-induced calm.

As I sat there, I wondered if she would ever realize just how much I loved her, just how much I have done for her.  Maybe she won't know right away, but I hope she'll understand someday...  Someday, as she's sitting up late at night with her own sick child, she'll understand just how much she means to me.  You will never know the love of a mother until you experience it yourself.

My dear Sol Haven, I love you so very much and I cherish every second I have with you.  You are the reason for everything I do, everything I dream, everything I am.  You are the reason I lay awake at night, thinking of what I can do better the next day to make a better life for you.  You are the reason I wake up in the morning with confidence and determination, hope and love in my heart, striving to help you grow into the most beautiful human ever to walk this earth.  I hope you realize someday just how blessed I feel to be your mother.  I live and breathe for you, and you are all I will ever need.

This is why you call me Mom. 

** Btw, Sol was sent home later that night, 

and although she wasn't feeling great the next morning, 

we enjoyed a nice Mother's Day pancake breakfast together.  

Ah, love. **

RAMBLINGS ON A TUESDAY

back in their heyday :(

It's been a while since I rambled.

The weather has been beautiful here.  Sunny and high 70's-80's.  I lehrv it.  So on my lunch breaks, I break out the ol' FiveFingers and hit the trails behind our plant.  There's a lush arboretum filled with ponds, wooded paths, and nature at its very best.  So I take full advantage.  But as I noticed the other day, my FiveFingers are running a little ragged.  To be honest, I'm surprised they've even lasted this long.  So I'm scouting around for new running shoes.  I'm all about minimalist footwear... I'd go barefoot everywhere, if I could.  FiveFingers are the next best thing.  So I'm trying to decide between Vibram FiveFingers and RunAmocs.  I'm sure I'll go with the FiveFingers, purely for shock value :)  There's nothing more exhilarating to me than watching someone do a double- (or triple, or quadruple) take on my uber-weird toe shoes.  Score.

Shopping for shoes... it's like opening Pandora's Shoebox.  Not even for me, necessarily.  My heart just does a flip when I see itty-bitty shoes.  For itty-bitty people like Solchop.  And I swear, she started it.  This chick loves shoes.  LOVES them.  She's always picking up shoes (hers, mine, anyone's) and sitting down to try and put them on.  It's pretty freaking adorable.  I assume it's my maternal instincts, then, that compel me to shop for shoes for her.  But seriously, take a gander at these moccasins and tell me Sol doesn't need these...



She also loves hats.  She's constantly picking up loose hats (I know, it sounds like there's rubbish strewn about our entire residence) and dipping her head down so that I can put them on her head.  My grandma got her this little Hello Kitty hat, and that's one of her faves.  I myself am not really one for licensed apparel, but if Sol likes it.. hey, more power to her.  She loves accessorizing.  And if you're wondering if she ever toddles around the front yard on a warm summer afternoon, wearing nothing but her birthday suit and a hat... yes, yes she does.

So one of my favorite places to go for lunch is (are you ready?) the local hospital.  They have the most delicious pita chips I've ever tasted.  And in my opinion, their per-pound salad bar pricing is pretty stellar, so I'm all about truckin on over to the hospital and grabbing a few ounces of Mediterranean fabulosity.  The other day, on my way back from the hospital, I was behind this really cool car that was reverberating with the frequencies of something slightly resembling music.  I could feel it in my car, I'm sure the other cars nearby could feel it, and frankly I was angry that I was stuck driving behind this moron in a Hot Lips Olds, skatin' on Dayton rims, thumping himself right into the "oh-you're-irritating" section of the minds of everyone within a quarter-mile.  We pulled up to a stoplight, and
just when I was mumbling some choice words under my breath, dreading the next 30 seconds of sitting there behind his subwoofer-on-wheels, the vibrations stopped.   This guy turned his music off at the stoplight!  I love when people surprise me.  Thank you, Mr. Hot Lips, for allowing me to sit at the stoplight in peace.

But not everyone turns their music off when the car is stopped.  My sister called me yesterday after work.  First thing she said: "Hey, can you hear this?"  I listened closely... and heard someone belting out some unknown tune at the very tip-top of his lungs.  She was stopped at a stoplight next to with a man who was so happy with life in general that he was singing.  Delightfully loud and lovely.  Says me to sister, "What is he singing?"  Says she to me, "I don't know what song it is; it's very monotone with zero melody, but it's something about a perfect life."  Cheers to you and your perfect life, sir.  You are the epitome of Guts and Glory in an S10. 

Sisters are great.  Sisters make your day by calling you with random things like that.  Sisters are certainly something to celebrate, and today especially I'm celebrating my sister Amanda.  28 years ago today, the world became a little brighter because of a bubbly little redhead named Amanda Jane :)  A loving daughter, a loyal sister, a wonderful aunt, a very dear friend, and arguably the world's greatest movie-quote-knower EVER, my sister Amanda is one of the most amazing people I will ever know.  After putting up with years of sharing a room with her bratty little sister, or being attacked with a constant, "You gonna eat that?" she still loves me.  I tip my dark brown bowler hat to you, Amanda.  (and in case you're wondering, we're putting on a magic show in the following photo. yes, we are very talented, and we wear many hats. pun intended.)

Happy birthday, AJ!

RAVIOLI IN THE HAIR, RAVIOLI EVERYWHERE

>><<

So Sol learned this new trick.

><

It's called Peek-a-Boo.

She thinks it's aaaahhhh-mazing.  She does it a whole lot.  And with meaning.  With purpose.  The look of sheer surprise when she pulls her hands away from her eyes?  Priceless. And the barely audible *gasp* when the hands break free and we all experience the "boo" factor?  Gets me every time.

And it turns into quite a production.   She offers several showtimes, including (but not limited to) 6am, noon, 5:25pm, 6:45pm, and 8:30pm.

One of her favorite times to perform is after a meal (chick's all about dinner and a show), and her audience of choice is generally whomever is still present after dinner.

This is especially entertaining (read: Mama Mel grits her teeth and watches it happen) when we've eaten something that's terribly delicious and messy.  Like ravioli.  This gal and her ravioli... I swear, it's her mission to get ravioli on every square inch of the 3-foot radius in which she's plopped.  She's slowly transforming our home into Little Italy, one Peek-a-Boo performance at a time.

Oh, but I love my little ravioli monster.  Even when I'm combing it out of her hair before bathtime... pasta, marinara, cheese, all that good stuff.  Covered in Trader Joe's finest frozen pasta, she is awfully entertaining.

Molto bene, bambino!

>><<

 

DEAR SOL: HERE IS YOUR FAMILY

Well, it finally happened:

#14 on the list of My Worries, from this post written waaaay back when I was pregnant.

 

The day when our family is compared to the other families at daycare.

Yesterday was like any other day; I left work to pick Sol up from daycare.  I walked in and saw my little monster walking up to me (omg, she's walking! let's take a second to raise the roof for my future marathoner!)

Sol perched on my left hip, diaper bag slung over my right shoulder, I was pulled aside by Miss Shannon, who mentioned to me that they're asking each child to bring in photos of his or her family over the next week.  These photos will be posted up on a wall alongside all the other kids' family photos.  They're doing this to help each child to learn about his or her family, to help each child associate a name with each person, to have the family "right there" with each child at daycare.

Family photos. 

Welllllll.
Isn't that special.

I slapped on the most outrageously fake smile and said, "Okay."  And I walked out the door.

My heart instantly sank and my throat tied itself into one large, ridiculously impossible knot.  The same knot I felt for months while I was pregnant.  The same knot that was originally tied by the man who abandoned me.  The same knot that manifested itself every night for 9 months, reminding me that I was different, that my child would be different.  The same knot that reminds me of every break my heart has suffered, every evil word spoken to me, every awkward "I'm pregnant and single" conversation I had to endure, every afternoon spent sobbing on my living room floor, every night spent lying in bed, tracing soft lines on my growing belly and crying into my pillow.  The same knot that I feel when I see a perfect nuclear family who's so cute and "together" that I want to vomit, or cry, or maybe both.  The same knot that you get when you're fatherless.

That knot tied me up the whole way home.  And it held that same restrictive power over me for the rest of the night.  It consumed me as I fell asleep, and it was still there this morning.  Sol will not have pictures of her father.  She will only have pictures of one set of grandparents.  Sol has half a family.

Family photos: proof that Sol is different because of things I did.

 I got to work this morning and searched my computer to find pics of our family.  And as I shuffled through the photos, I could feel the knot slowly begin to loosen.  With each happy photo of smiling faces surrounding my daughter, I too felt happy.  And I felt guilty.  And stupid.  For allowing that pesky knot to take control of me and cause me to forget what a great family we truly have.  Hodge-podge and unconventional though it may be, we have a ridiculously large family.  Sol and I are unbelievably blessed to be surrounded by good people who love us dearly.  

Blog/Facebook comments never cease to amaze me; as I read them I see just how much Sol is loved.  She may not have a perfect family in the traditional sense... but in my opinion she has something even better.  She has hundreds -- maybe even thousands -- of people who know and love her, most of whom have never even met her.  If only there were a wall big enough to post pictures of every member of our amazing family.

(If you want your photo on her wall at daycare, just let me know... 

how cool would it be to have her wall FILLED UP? haha)

Family photo day?

Bring.  It.  On.

Dear Sol,
 here is your family:

 I am your mother.  I love you dearly and always have. 
I want the very best for you in life, and I want you to be happy.
That is all you need to know.

 

This is Grandma CC.  She was there when you were born.

She cut your umbilical cord and gave you your first bath.

She says a prayer for you every night.

Her heart nearly explodes with all the love she has for you.

 

This is Grandpa Ken.  

He waited impatiently in the waiting room the night you were born.

He was the first man to hold you.

He never stops thinking about you.  He shows pictures of you whenever he can.

He calls almost daily to talk to you.

(I can't wait for you to start talking so you can actually talk to him...)

 

This is Aunt Liz.  She was with me when I first heard your heartbeat.

She was the first one at the hospital when I went into labor.

She held my hand as you took your first breath.

She loves you more than you will ever know.

Aunt Liz is holding your cousin Ellie.  You and Ellie are going to be best friends.

 This is Aunt Amanda.  She was the first one in our family to know about you.
She was also there, holding my hand as you entered the world.
Her whole office knows about you because she never stops talking about you.
She is proud of you and loves you.


This is GG Helen.  You will always have a very special place in her heart.
She has loved you for a long, long time.


This is GG Loretta.  She has many grandchildren and great-grandchildren,
but she has more than enough love to make each of them feel special.
You are no exception.  She loves you very dearly, and has always loved you.


 This is Uncle Gregg with Cooper.
Uncle Gregg was there the night you were born.
(but he didn't hold you because "he was sweaty from playing volleyball,"
but I think he was actually scared to hold such a tiny person)
Uncle Gregg loves you and your chubby self.
Cooper was the first one to know about you.
He sat with me alone in Aunt Liz's living room and listened to me cry.
He gave me hugs and, in his own canine way, he told me that it would work out.
You will love Cooper.  He gives the best hugs ever.

This is Uncle Matt.  We call him Mattitude.
He is hilarious.  He taught you to blow raspberries.
You didn't stop blowing raspberries for months.


This is Aunt Kenny.  She is your godmother.
She has loved you since before you were born.
She was so excited to meet you that she drove a long way
to be at the hospital the day after you were born.



This is Uncle Mike.  We call him Uncle Rafiki.
He loves to hold you up a la Lion King.
He came with Aunt Kenny to see you the day after you were born.
(and he's apparently a model on the side...)

 This is Aunt Stephanie.  She is one of my best friends.
She loves you mucho and wants the very best for you.
Her daughter Genesis will be your best friend :)

 This is Aunt Joleen.  We'll call her Auntie Jo.
She is VERY smart.
She loves to take you to the Beer Exchange.
She has been an important part of your life for almost your entire life.
She loves taking you to Target and putting ridiculous hats on you.


This is Aunt Leah.  She is amazing.
She loves you SO SO SO much.
She loves to come over and play with you.
She's going to teach you to dance!!

This is Aunt Chel-C.  She was the first one to know your name :)

She loves photography and loves snapping photos of you.

She sends you cool presents, and will teach you all about the She-Woman Man Haters Club.

We are founding members.

This is E-Machine.

E is very special to us too.

He likes cars and cows, and he can tell you all about them.

You two will be very good friends... most of the time.

8 SIMPLE STEPS TO GETTING FREE WINE ON A PLANE (or "flying with a baby")

"Flying with a tiny child is actually not that hard, as long as you do not relax for a second and maintain the alertness of a ninja for 12 hours straight.  On a plane there is nowhere to go, no matter how detailed your fantasy of breaking through a window and parachuting to safety. It’s just you, Baby Medusa, 300 judgmental stares and the reminder that you aren’t a normal person anymore. You’re a parent, and maybe you should just stay home until high school." -- from "Flying with my toddler is easy" by Corinne Purtill

I've been absent for a couple weeks.  

Solchop and I just returned from a sunny tropical vacation!

Vacation.  BAH.  

... it was supposed to be a vacation.

We returned Saturday morning and I spent the duration of the day enjoying some much-needed and long-awaited relaxation.  It's safe to say that I was not able to relax in Florida.

Who knew that toting my spawn to a sandy Gulfside paradise would be such a chore?  Between the nightmarish flights to and fro, the constant applications battles to apply SPF 50, the incessant "leave your hat on!" instructions to a 14-month-old who could care less whether her little head was burnt to a crisp, and trying to entertain a baby (who wanted to be on the floor, and in your arms, and outside, and inside, and in the dishwasher, and out on the beach, and up on the pier, and in the pool, and out of the pool, and in the pool, and out of the pool, and in the pool, and out of the pool, and... [you get the point] ), I AM WHIPPED.

Where to begin...?  Air travel.  Now that I have survived two hellish flights with my own 1-yr-old, I can safely say that I now know what to do [and what not to do].  Let's first talk about how I got 3 free bottles of wine from the flight attendant [and I fly coach, people...].

There are 8 simple steps:

Step 1: On the night before you leave, take baby to Taco Bell for the first time (this step is vital; do not skip).  Make sure he/she eats an entire bean burrito to provide ample gas and diarrhea the following morning.

 

Step 2: Absentmindedly forget to pack any wipes in your diaper bag.  While you're at it, make sure to pack the diaper rash cream in your checked bag so that there is none in your carry-on diaper bag.

Step 3: In keeping with the "absentminded" theme, forget to bring any entertainment for the plane.  Make sure to plan ahead, put good thought into it, and buy a boatload of new toys ahead of time; then leave all newly-purchased toys (aka "baby's in-flight entertainment") at home.

Step 4: If possible, schedule the flight for a point in time when your toddler is uber-mobile and impossible to contain.  Bonus points if baby has an undiagnosed double ear infection and/or is teething.

Step 5: Dress baby in brightly-colored striped leggings and attention-grabbing mini Converse All-Star shoes... these will win the hearts of those around you and invite oodles of "ohmigosh, those shoes/leggings/fill-in-the-blank's are adorable" comments.

Step 6: Plant yourself in seats at the very back of the plane, directly in front of the flight attendants, to ensure that they are most definitely affected by the inevitable screams.

Step 7: Make sure your seatbelt is securely fastened and your seat back and tray table are in their full upright positions.  Then attempt to contain your screaming/writhing/back-arching baby in your lap, allow beadlets of sweat to form along your hairline, and [in a very conspicuous manner] proceed to take deep breaths and count to 10... over and over.

Step 8: Be sure to act surprised and enormously grateful as flight attendant John gifts you a tiny bottle (or three, ahem) of Cabernet because [according to John], "I think you're gonna need this, sweetheart."  Bonus points if John throws in a bag of animal crackers for the baby beast in your lap.

 True story.  

This all happened to us on the flight there... 3 bottles of wine and all.  On a brighter note, the trip home was a smidge more successful, with Sol holding off about 1 hr into the trip before starting the incessant screaming.  Thank goodness for a stranger sitting a row behind me and across the aisle, because Sol climbed right into her lap and was content.  For. The. Entire. Rest. Of. The. Trip.  I don't know her name, I don't know her story, but she was a blonde angel at 30,000 feet, assigned to seat 13D to help me maintain what little sanity I had left.  You're a saint, 13D :)  I'm sure the rest of Flight 650 thanks you as well.

If you and your baby/toddler have some air travel plans looming ahead, here are some tips:

• Visit your doctor before the trip, and make sure your child is in tip-top shape.  BABIES WITH EAR INFECTIONS WILL BE YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE ON A PLANE.  And we all know that ear infections are a) invisible to the layperson and b) can sometimes go undetected until the least opportune moment.  Better safe than sorry.
• Book nonstop flights if possible.  While airports are pretty cool because they're massive and they allow baby to roam and burn off that seemingly-unstoppable energy, it's best to just get the trip overwith.
• Aim for an aisle seat.  This gives you just a smidge more room, and will help keep baby from climbing all over Stranger 1 and Stranger 2.
• Bring all necessary documentation -- your photo ID or passport, as well as Baby's birth certificate (or ID, if you have one).
• Pack your diaper bag, and pack smart.  Bring wipes, extra pacifiers, and good diapers (I'm a proponent of generic brands, but air travel is not the time to be changing diapers over and over, so make sure you have premium protection on that booty).
• Dress your child in layers.  Cabin temperature can hit some major peaks and valleys, and you'll want to make sure baby is comfortable at all times.
• Allow extra time in the airport.  There are some TSA agents that will bump you to the head of the security line (this happened to us, and it was ahhh-maz-ing!), but you should plan for a long line at security.
• Slip-on shoes.  Period.  You don't want to be tying your shoes and chasing a baby.
• If you're lucky enough to be traveling with another adult, send them ahead with the gear to board the plane, and you wait [with baby] until the very last minute to board.  This will allow that wiggly, squirmy monster extra time to roam freely before being confined to a tiny airplane seat.
• Bring a pacifier clip.  I did not bring one, and found myself reaching under the seats 8 million times to find Sol's pacifier.  Could have been avoided.
• Bring lots of new/fun/small toys as entertainment.  Fill a bag with new and cheap (ex: Dollar Store) toys and offer one to your child every 15 mins or so... and cycle through them a couple times.  Wrap them up if you wish, which offers an added layer of fun (no pun intended).  Here's a genius idea: bring a roll of masking tape for your toddler to play with.  This is brilliant.  Quiet, sticky, NOT messy, cheap rolls of fun. 
• Bring more drinks and snacks than you think you'll need.  FYI: the 3-ounce rule does NOT apply to baby's milk or formula (nor to medications or diaper rash cream, for that matter).  So pack that milk and keep baby happy.
• When possible (and if a tantrum rears its ugly head), go for a walk down the aisle.  A change of scenery can do wonders.
• Allow for exceptions to your rules.  If you've been trying to break away from the pacifier or lovie, an airplane ride is not the time to enforce.  Let it go for these few hours.  Do anything to keep your kid (and the other passengers) happy.  I'm all for traditional learning toys, but for something as taxing as a plane ride, a toy like the Fisher-Price Apptivity iPhone case would be PHENOM.
• Be flexible.  Even if you've made your list and checked it twice, even if you think you're prepared to handle anything (whatever, Superparent), it will take one tiny tantrum in one crowded plane to humble you.  Take deep breaths and bear in mind that baby is taking cues from you.  Upset yourself and you'll likely upset Baby.  And remember: when you're the parent with the screaming toddler, the other passengers are probably not judging you, but empathizing with you.  If anyone offers help, TAKE IT.
• Smile.  When your child is draining you of every last ounce of sanity, smile.  Onlookers will think you're a rockstar.

***

Bon voyage!

***

Do you have any tips for traveling with an infant or toddler?  Share them!

AND THINGS WILL NEVER BE THE SAME.

This weekend was pretty fabulous.  Sol and I trekked on up to Frankenmuth on Friday evening to spend our weekend with family and good friends.  On Saturday my family exchanged gifts.  Read: Sol's first go at ripping open beautifully-wrapped packages.

We had such high expectations, too.  I'm a hopeless romantic, especially when it comes to things like Baby's First Christmas.  We were all watching, waiting for that perfect "Hallmark moment" when Sol would rip open the paper and shriek with excitement as the big ol' bright toy inside was revealed.  We were waiting for cousin Eloise to revel in the excitement of the occasion and squeal her own little wonderful squeal as Sol roared with omg-i-can't-believe-this-is-happening.  But alas, Sol was tired and Eloise was hungry.  And then Sol was hungry and Eloise was tired.  And then Sol was tired and Eloise was... you get the picture.  These two babes were so not into opening gifts, so "magical present time" turned into "you take Sol while I open her gifts and then I'll take her back and I guess that's just a big fat loss for Baby's First Christmas."  Oh well.  I think it meant more to me than it did to her anyway.

We drove home last night on snowy, blowy, icy roads.  That means a 2.5-hr trip morphed into an almost 4-hr trip, compliments of Mother Nature herself.  And given my precious cargo, I made a point of driving as s-l-o-w-l-y as possible.  (That's right, folks.  I'm gonna go 25mph the whole way.  You can either accept it or pass me.  Make your choice.)  We made it home, safe and sound, and Mama Mel unpacked the contents of her car while Sol (for once) sat quietly in her carseat.  And with each load of bags/boxes I toted up the sidewalk into the house, some bag would be knocking against my knee, creating a chorus of Sol's new toys going off: "Red! Rojo! Elephant! [elephant roar]!  Red! Rojo! Eleph--! [elephant roar]!"  Nothing like disturbing the Christmas peace in our quiet little neighborhood.

Sol and I spent a wonderful evening by the Christmas tree, complete with a visit from a good friend.  Sol wasn't awake for long; she snuggled in my arms with her little pink bunny, my heart nearly melting and pouring out of my chest as I kissed my Christmas baby goodnight and lay her down in her crib.  She buried her head in the mattress (as she always does), stuck her little behind up in the air, and before long she was out.

This morning I awoke bright and early, around 6am, and came downstairs to unpack some of the bags and boxes that remained from last night.  [That plan dissolved pretty quickly; hey... it's Christmas.]  Donning comfy clothes and slippers, I brewed some holiday blend coffee, popped in White Christmas, and perched myself on the couch next to the soft glow of the Christmas tree.  Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye are crooning to me about sisters sticking together under all kinds of weather, and I can hear Sol jabbering upstairs as she begins to wake up from her Christmas Eve slumber.  We have one present to open this morning (Aunt Leah, Sol will be opening your gift today!), and then we're going to enjoy our first Christmas as a little family.  I keep thinking back to last Christmas, the stillness, the quiet, and I know things will never be the same from here on out.

Sol's existence has changed things so much, and I almost can't believe that we've spent nearly 11 months together.  Someone this weekend reminded me what a tremendous decision it was to bring her into the world, and that I should be proud of it.  He reminded me that doing the right thing usually takes more time, costs more money, and is generally more difficult, but in the end it's worth it.  And he's so right.  Even though my little sunshine sucks the time, money, and energy right out of my life, I couldn't be happier to spend it with her.  There's a small part of me that wonders whether there's someone, somewhere, who's especially tormented this morning by wishing he had the stones to suck it up and see his daughter on her very first Christmas (Alex, I'll take Things That Make You Say, "She's Awesome and You Suck," for 400.)  But the more I think about it, the more I realize she's not his daughter.  She's mine.  She knows nothing more.  It was me who chose to bring her into the world, and it was me who chose to raise her, to love and protect her.  And this weekend I realized just how many other people adore her; countless family members and friends were fired up to love on this little ball of sunshine.  To see her roaring with laughter at Uncle Rafiki, or entertaining an entire living room of Bierleins at Aunt Joleen's house, to see her snuggling with Grandpa Ken in the rocking chair, or banging on the aluminum high chair tray as Grandma CC feeds her bananas... it makes my heart go *boom*.  The peace and love I feel this Christmas is the best gift I could have received.  Here's wishing you the same peace, good cheer, and abundant love this holiday season.  Merry Christmas!

** our Christmas card this year **

SUNSHINE AFTER THE RAIN

I wish time travel were a real thing.  I wish I could snap a photo of my daughter's face and pop back to July of last year to show the terrified young woman (me) exactly what she would have if she could just stick it out a few months longer.  Although... I guess it really wouldn't matter, since I held out and chose to bring Sol into the world anyway.  But I'm sure the pregnancy would have been a lot easier if I had known exactly what I had to look forward to. 

I chose to keep my pregnancy a secret for a long time.  Looking back, that was pointless, because things didn't really start looking up until I broke the news.  I wrote a letter (from my post Breaking News) to tell my loved ones about my pregnancy.  And I should tell you that the letter wasn't my idea... it was my mom's (my mom is always coming up with fabulous ideas like that).  And what a great idea it was!  So many phone calls, cards, letters, texts, etc etc... the outpouring of love and support that I received in response to the letter was more than I ever dreamed would happen.  Maybe it was because I was ashamed of myself, or maybe it was because I had someone telling me from the very beginning that no one would love me if I told them I was pregnant.  Maybe it was a little bit of both.  Regardless, I never expected to have so much support. 

I'm sure the major wireless carriers had a field day after I sent out my "big news" letter. I myself received countless texts/phone calls. And I'm sure there were maaaaany others being sent out among my family/friends, given the bomb I had just dropped (from my friend Al: "I must admit, you could have probably given me several guesses about what big news might be brewing among the Bierlein clan, but this would not have made my list of top 10 guesses. I think I bruised my jaw when it hit the floor"). But every message I received was ultimately one of love/support/excitement (from my cousin Emily: "The thing to remember is that it is not HOW a baby gets to this earth, it is that the baby is on this earth!"). 

Since I've shared my story through this blog, I've heard from so many people who have either been in a similar situation or known someone who's been in a similar situation.  And each time I hear someone else's story, my heart has broken just a little because very few of them had the support that I had.  The things that some people can say to/about an expectant mother... I shudder to think that humanity can be so cruel. 

Pregnancy is scary.  And your emotions are on a rollercoaster anyway.  You cry for no reason when you're watching The Office (true story!).  You laugh at the most inappropriate times.  And if you're doing it alone, you're terrified every step of the way.  There's so much to think about, so much to know, so much that will be changing. 

I was recently talking to one of my friends who is also a single mom, and we were discussing just how much information a new single mom has to take in.  Fortunately, I'm a sucker for researching even the most ridiculous topics, so I was able to find a lot of the answers to my questions through the wonderful world of Google.  FMLA, child support, government assistance, child care databases, child care assistance, legal custody, physical custody, insurance/benefit information, tax information, affidavits of parentage, blah blah blah.  There was so much to learn and so much conflicting information.  Before Sol was born, I spoke with two different family law attorneys regarding the questions I had about all of the above.  And the attorneys even gave me conflicting information!  This whole experience has given me a keen interest in becoming a family law attorney.  I'm not sure how seriously I feel about it, or whether it will ever come to fruition, but I have an idea:

I would love to go to law school (any takers to fund that endeavor???) and educate myself on all the ins and outs of family law: custody/paternity/adoption/etc.  I would ABSOLUTELY LOVE to head up an organization to support expectant single mothers.  And not just for low-income mommies-to-be.  An organization that can help pregnant women (from all walks of life) plan their future with baby.  An organization that can help all women see that an unplanned pregnancy is not the end of her life.  An organization that can offer help to women who feel forced into abortion.  An organization that can help women make a positive choice after seeing the positive test result - even if that means a knowledgeable, helpful referral to a caring adoption agency (remind me to tell you someday about my experience with adoption agencies).  An organization that's founded not only on the desire to help young pregnant women, but also on the basis that I know what they're going through and can relate to their fears, frustrations, joys, etc.  An organization that can offer legal, financial, and psychological counseling for mommies-to-be.  An organization that can help all pregnant woman see that there is always sunshine after the rain.  I've seen the rain, and I've seen the sunshine.  And I can tell you firsthand, the sunshine will make you forget all about the rain.  I wish someone had been there to tell me everything I needed to know about the legal and financial aspects of the road ahead of me.

If anyone has any advice or words of wisdom, send them my way (such as, aside from marrying a rich doctor, how to make money while doing this? pro bono doesn't exactly pay the rent...).  Any advice will be well recieved.  Maybe this isn't such a crazy idea after all.

KEEPING MY FACE TO THE SUN

I think I need to clarify a little bit from my last post:

First of all, I don't ever feel alone.  I have the greatest family and friends that a young mama could ask for.  I've received so much support, so much love, so much help from my loved ones - there's no possible way that I could feel like I'm lacking there.  I'm a very blessed young woman; I have a beautiful daughter and a forcefield of family/friends who love me.  I will never feel alone :) 

Secondly, I don't think my life would be any better with Sol's dad in the picture.  I think our life is easier without incorporating a man who doesn't want to be with us.  Right now, Sol is all I need.  HOWEVER... I think there's a divine reason that it takes two people to create a child.  That said, it's natural for me to feel like I should have a partner throughout my pregnancy, as well as in raising my daughter.  I don't think we're wired to go it alone.  I was simply stating that I often wonder what it would have been like to have a man right there with me through it all.  Not necessarily Sol's father, but simply a man who wanted to be a father. 

Lastly, I know he's missing out.  This beautiful girl belongs to me and only me, and he chose that.  I chose her.  She depends on me for everything, and I adore her more than I ever thought was possible.  As I said in a previous post, I will never allow myself to forget that I chose this.  She really is the sunshine of my life.  Though I may have a laundry list of regrets in my life, Solaya is not one of them.  I will never regret bringing her into the world.  She will always be the sunshine I need.  And as long as I keep my focus on her, I will never see the shadows.

Shortly after Sol was born, I received this fortune in my cookie :)  Rather fitting, don't you think?