A Poem for Dad

Early last year, I began writing a poem for my Dad. I wanted to do something special for him for Father's Day. My father was a man like no other. He loved everybody and he never judged. Even if he didn't like you, you'd never know it. He helped anyone he could. He gave me and my brother a great childhood, we rarely wanted for anything. He took such good care of my mother. He taught me so many valuable lessons, which at the time, seemed useless. But as I have gotten older, I have found the lessons and advice prove to be more useful than, I think, he even realized they would be. I wanted to honor that and him.

He unfortunately passed away before I completed it. I was too heartbroken over losing him and too overwhelmed with a new baby that I couldn't even fathom the thought of finishing it in time for Father's Day. But over the last few months, I have given it a second look and have finally completed it with an alternate ending.

So, this is for you Dad. A little something to tell you how much you mean to me and how lucky I am to have you as my Dad. I love and miss you always.

A Poem for Dad

A little girl's daddy is her first love. 

He is the man that will raise the bar for all other men that come into her life. 

He is her first protector. 

She will love him unconditionally and look up to him. 

She looks to make him proud. 

He teaches her. 

He teaches her the lessons she needs to take care of her self and protect herself. 

He teaches her to use her hands, to fix her car and install a new faucet. 

He guides her. 

He guides her in the direction that can best protect her and make her better than him. 

But when she chooses her own path, he is there to cheer her on when it goes well. 

And he's there to pick up the pieces and set her straight when she falls. 

He loves her. 

She will defy him, disappoint him and make him mad. 

She will make him happy and proud. 

Through it all, he loves her. 

He lets her go. 

He gives her to another man with faith that he has taught her well. 

That she has chosen the right man. 

That he has taught her as much as he can to make her successful in her own life. 

He watches her.

He watches her manage her own life, making her own way in the world. 

He watches her build a home with her husband. 

He boasts with pride when she begins a family of her own. 

He watches her raise that family the best she can with all the tools he has given her. 

He dies. 

But even in death, he will continue to protect, teach, guide and love her. 

He still watches her. 

Happy Mother's Day!

It wasn't until I became a mom, that I truly understood the work being a mom really was. My mom always made it look so easy. What I didn't know and didn't see were the endless hours she put in after my brother and I were sound asleep in our beds. I never gave much thought to how there were always clean towels or how the toilet paper never ran out. Beds were made and laundry cleaned and put neatly in drawers. Lunches were ready and the refrigerator and cabinets were always stocked with food. She made sure that Santa never let us down. The tooth fairy came and the Easter Bunny always hid our baskets.

She worried about our safety, our health, our happiness. She worried if she was doing a good enough job. She worried if we did well in school, if we had the right friends. She worried when it was 10 minutes past curfew and we weren't home.

She supported us, picked us up when we fell and loved us unconditionally. Even when I used dish soap in the dishwasher. Oops. But through all the work, worry and support, she was silently teaching me how to be the best possible mother I could be.

When I got married, I was blessed with a wonderful mother-in-law. Over the years she has been there as a mother and as a friend. She raised a wonderful man that I am proud to call my husband.

To my boys, you are my greatest accomplishments. I wouldn't be a Mommy without you. You came in to this world so tiny and fragile, but you are growing into amazing boys. There is no greater joy than watching you grow and learn. I promise to always love and protect you. Even when you are all grown, you will always be my babies. I love you with every ounce of my soul.

Throwback Thursday - June 26, 2014

Sometime in the 80's

Some of my greatest family memories have been at Long Beach Island, NJ. Every August, our family, and I mean entire family, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, the whole lot of us, would rent a huge multi-level family house there. 

I remember those 2 weeks being so carefree, so fun. Not a care in the world except whether the waves would roll in and destroy your perfect sandcastle. 

This picture was always one that was famous, in it's own respect, within the family. There I was, the little ham, posing on the hood of my Aunt Barbara's t-top Toyota Celica. 

My Aunt Barbara, in particular, always loved this photo. She always said it was one of her favorite pictures of me. It's one of my favorite too. 

Throwback Thursday - June 19, 2009

Brandon 6-19-2009

Awe look at my little Brandon. This picture was 5 years ago today. It's hard to believe that this tiny little baby is the same rambunctious 5 year old that runs around my house. The same kid that is starting Kindergarten in September. 

Even though I didn't plan on having another preemie baby, I saved the preemie clothes anyway. Back when Brandon was born, there was a very small selection of preemie clothes. Now it seems that everything comes in a preemie size. Those preemie clothes seemed to fit Brandon forever. And now they are all small on Ryan, even though Ryan is only slightly bigger that Brandon was at the time. 

Which brings me to why I chose this picture. I often have a hard time remembering just how tiny Brandon was. I hold Ryan a think to myself, I don't remember Brandon being so small. But he was. The picture proves it. I don't know how I ever figured out how to care for something so tiny and fragile. 

Just Like Riding a Bike...Right?

Although yesterday was Friday the 13th, a full moon AND the weather was crap, it was a great day. Our newest little addition to the family was coming home. He spent 17 days in the NICU. Was that all it really was? Hmmm, seemed longer. 

After Ryan was born, I found that I was constantly doubting myself and my abilities to once again care for someone so tiny. It's been 5 years!! I was constantly told, "it's like riding a bike, it all comes back to you". But would it really? I spent that 17 days only getting to feed him twice a day. I got told when to check his temperature and change his diaper. Reporting on the contents of his diaper and changing his shirt. I had to work around wires and when I held him, he was still connected to those wires. 

I thought I knew what to expect, after all I had done this before. Sleep him on his back, no loose bedding, toys or stuffed animals in the crib. Always leave them secure in the carseat while the car is in motion, duh. Swaddle with his arms out. Wait...now it's arms out? What else was I forgetting, what else had they changed. 

Once our discharge was complete, we were on our way. No more of some one else's rules, no more monitors and no more wires. PANIC! Those wires were my security, they let me know that he was okay. As the nurse peeled the leads off, well, let's just say, I was on the verge of tears. But again, it was just like riding a bike, right?

Ryan's First Car Ride

In the hospital, I rarely heard him cry. He was always sleeping so soundly. Alright, maybe this wasn't so bad. Then we came home and I was on my own. ON. MY. OWN. I thought I knew what I was doing, until I changed his first diaper in the middle of the night. I had to heat the bottle while he was crying, get the cloth ready to clean him, vaseline on the gauze, change his clothes. He was squirmy, so so squirmy and it was pretty dark. I tried to keep Ryan calm and quiet. I kept telling him that it was our first night and we would get it, we'd understand each other. Then we woke the whole house up. Brandon started calling for me, my husband woke up to console him. Cause I, of course, can't be in 2 places at once. Another thought that never crossed my mind, what happens when they both need me at the exact same time?

I woke up this morning exhausted. If I slept 2 hours combined, well, I'm giving myself a lot of credit. I kept looking into his bassinet making sure he was okay. I was cleaning spit-up from his mouth and clothes. I felt just a little defeated. 

Then we went through another feeding this morning and it was better. It was just like the hospital...calm, peaceful, controlled. Then another feeding, less crying going through the changing process. And I felt better in control. 

Would I agree that it is just like riding a bike? Probably not. Let's face it, the last time I hopped on this bike, the ride was missing passengers and the bike was much younger. But I do think things come back to you. You get comfortable again being a mom and having more people to care for. Would I trade it, nope, but I have learned the cliche phrase to NEVER tell my friends having baby #2. Cause the second time isn't anything like the first. 

Throwback Thursday - June 12, 2014

Dad's 57th birthday dinner at Benihana

Although this picture isn't too much of a throwback, it only dates back to October 2013, it has become a picture that I hold very close to my heart.

Dad discovered Benihana many many years ago when he was working in Detroit, Michigan. Every year for his birthday, the only thing he wanted was to have dinner at Benihana and we all looked forward to it every year; the food was good and we had a great time together. And each year we took another family photo. We would joke how each year the family grew and soon, we would take up more than one table.

This is the last family photo we ever took. And ironically, we came to realize that it is the only photo of our entire family; all 4 grandsons included. In this photo, my sister-in-law was pregnant with their second child, and this was taken 2 weeks before we found out we were pregnant with our second. So, it is the only photo we will ever have of the entire family.

Looking at these pictures is sometimes hard. We were all so happy, we were all together. We were all smiling. But I am happy that we were able to capture these memories to look back on and remember the wonderful times that we have had and how wonderful of a man my dad was.

I miss him every minute of every day, but I know that he will always be here to watch over us, protect us and guide us, just like he always did. In like, he did everything he did for us and I know he will do that in death as well.

Throwback Thursday - June, 5, 2014

To sit and write a post this week for Throwback Thursday is a tough one. So much has happened since my last post. It is nearly impossible to decide exactly what to write about, so this week is a throwback for the last couple of weeks.

Pregnancy News

On May 13th, I went in for a growth scan. Basically, the sono tech measures pockets of amniotic fluid  and takes measurements on the femur, stomach and head to assess how well the baby is growing. After the tech took the baby's stats, she determined that we was a little on the small side, weighting in around 2 pounds 14 ounces. This sent me on a trip down to the perinatologist for a doppler scan. The doppler scan measures the blood flow through the baby's organs, the placenta and the umbilical cord. Although the tech there measured him around 3 pounds, he was still small. He should have been measuring closer to 3 1/2 pounds. The reason for his growth restriction was that he wasn't receiving the nutrients he needed through the cord because it was restricted. The exact same problem I had with my first pregnancy. My OB and perinatologist decided I would have a scan to check the fluid and a Non-Stress Test every 3-4 days to monitor the baby's health. The test itself was stressful because I knew what they were looking for, I had been down this road before, almost exactly 5 years ago. They wanted to see if his heart rate went up or down during movement. Up is good, down is bad.   I knew what a lowered heart rate meant and during each NST, I prayed I never heard a dip. Any day could be the day and it scared the shit out of me. I was only 31 weeks when they started to monitor me, I delivered my first son at 33 weeks and 1 day gestation. I was quickly approaching that mark. 

I Lost My Dad

On May 16, 2014, I got a call from my mom just after I dropped my son off at school. Dad wasn't breathing and they were taking him to the hospital. She was watching my nephews and was waiting for my brother or sister-in-law to get there. I told her I would head over to the hospital and call her when I knew anything. My cousin had spent the night at my parents house the night before. He heard my father fall and when the dog started howling, he rushed up from downstairs and called 911. I gave the hospital as much information I could while I waited for someone to tell me what was going on. A nurse came out to talk to me and my cousin. I knew it wasn't good that she walked out with a wheelchair for me. She brought us into another room where she explained that they were still working on him and she prepared me for what I was going to see. I tried to stay calm, after all, I was 32 weeks pregnant and put on the "premature birth watch list". She wheeled me into the room where the doctors were trying all they could to bring my dad back. I held his hand and asked him not to leave us, I told him that we needed him. I told him I still needed my daddy. I asked him, I begged him to come back to us. He was our rock and we still needed him. But nothing I said worked. After 29 minutes, the doctor informed me that they did all they could do, but he had been deprived of oxygen too long. They had to stop. I wanted to be one of those people that throw themselves on the table and screamed, to shake sense into the nurses and doctors to keep going, to start CPR myself. But I knew I couldn't. I knew he would never want to live that way. I knew what he could be like if he had been brought back. I couldn't argue. I remember hearing the doctor officially call it. 9:29am on May 16, 2014, my dad died. My life would change, my heart broke. The days that followed were a complete blur. They were filled with arrangements, gathering photos, making videos, ultrasounds and NST. Praying that any pregnancy problems would hold themselves off until at least after Dad's funeral. The NST the morning of the wake was particularly, um, stressful. And of course doing my best to stay calm and rest according to doctor's orders. 

I was going through the motions, but just couldn't believe it was happening. Did I really just lose my dad? My dad died. Words I thought wouldn't have to leave my lips for 20 or more years. He still had so much more to do, another grandchild to see, the rest of his life to spend with his wife, kids and their families. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I never truly considered life without him, I just assumed he would always be there. I still wait for him to call and ask for a hair cut. The pain of losing a parent, is pain I have never felt before. It felt like someone put and oozy to my chest and pulled the trigger. There was a hole. A big huge hole. Little things make me cry; a song on the radio, seeing his truck in the driveway, his funeral card hanging on my dresser mirror. He was an amazing man and we are all going to miss him immensely. But he will remain in my heart forever. 

We Had a Baby!

On May 27, 2014, I went in for my ultrasound and NST. I should have known something was wrong, but I suppose I could have been in denial. The sono tech measured my fluid less that half of what it was a week prior. Not good news. The doctor said to repeat the ultrasound after my NST is complete. So, my mother-in-law and I headed down to the hospital. They hooked me up to the monitors like every other time. I still believed that everything was fine. Then I heard it. The heart rate dropped. In the blink of an eye, there were 3 nurses in my room. Now I started getting nervous. They hooked me up to IV fluids "just in case". My MIL called my husband and he was on his way. I laid there hoping this wasn't happening that day. It was Tuesday and Saturday was my son's big Star Wars 5th birthday party. After my OB called the perinatologist, they decided it was best that my OB delivered. It was happening, I was having a baby, 33 weeks and 3 days. Here we go again. I was nervous, I was scared. I was in shock. 

My husband made it just in time. Thank goodness. I got prepped and wheeled into the OR as he was getting in his scrubs. Ugh, the epidural. I was much more calm going into this one. I guess cause I knew what to expect. I laid down in the table and watched the door waiting for my husband to walk through. I breathed a deep sigh of relief when I saw him. Although I could only see his eyes, I knew everything was going to be okay. He sat by my side and we talked. We talked normally like we were sitting having a cup; of coffee. Before I knew it, I heard my baby cry. And boy did he cry. It was the most amazing sound. They took him over to get vitals and clean him up. And still he cried. Then I saw him. That little itty bitty face sticking out from all the blankets he was swaddled in. I never thought I could love another baby as much as I love my first, but in that instant, my heart was bursting with love for both of my boys. My heart was full. My beautiful baby was here at just 3 pounds 5.9 ounces and 16 inches long. 

May 27, 2014

My husband followed the baby while the doctors finished up and then I was wheeled to recovery. I laid there watching the clock. 1 hour in recovery and they would wheel me down to see my boy. They rolled me down in the bed to the Special Care Nursery. He was so tiny. So very tiny. My first was smaller by 2 ounces. But time will skew your memory. I got to hold him. He was so small, so fragile. I couldn't believe this was happening again. But, as with my first, he was healthy. 

The last 9 days have been roller coaster. A busy roller coaster. Managing 2 kids in 2 different places, giving both attention, but knowing that Ryan needs his rest. I'd be there all day every day if I could. He needs to grow. He is doing well. As of last night he weighed in at 3 pounds 9.5 ounces. He is maintaining his temperature in the isolette and eating well. He's up to 32ml every 3 hours, which is just over an ounce. At 4 pounds they will transfer him to an open crib and see if he maintains his temperature for at least 48 hours. If he does, he will be on his way home! 

June 5, 2014

Throwback Thursday - May 1, 2014

Me, Mom and Dad 

This picture was either from the Fall of 1980 or the Spring of 1981. 

My Mom and my Dad are 2 of the most amazing people that I know. They taught me many lessons throughout my life. At the time I don't think they knew that they were even teaching me. I also didn't fully understand these lessons until I became a parent myself. 

My parents were married very young, just 19 and 22 years old. And no, it wasn't because of me, LOL. Just 3 years later, I was born and 3 years after that, my brother. They were in their late 20's and early 30's when they packed us up and moved us an hour away from family to our very own home. Back then, for some reason, an hour away seemed like an eternity. They did this to provide my brother and I with the life they felt we deserved. A home of our own, a yard to play in, our own bedrooms, a good school. 

I've been told there were nights my parents went without so we could eat. They both worked hard to give us everything we needed and as much of what we wanted as they could. We were their world and every step and every breath they took was for us. 

Now that I am a parent myself, I understand them more than I ever thought I would. I understand the long hours they put in beyond their jobs and long after we had gone to bed. I never understood how they seemed to get everything done. Now I do. 

I understand now the desire to give your children the very best of everything and the frustration that comes with not always being able to deliver. 

I understand the worry they felt when we got sick or hurt. And I'm sure one day I will pace the floor worried when my babies haven't come home yet. I will understand that their worry was projected as anger and that's why they yelled. 

I understand why I was given the freedoms to choose my own path, even when they thought it was wrong and I am grateful for all the times I fell and they were there to pick me back up again. I'm also thankful to have them there to celebrate with me when things went right. 

And now that I am married and have my own children, I think they understand me better too. They are finally able to see what all their hard work has done and the adults that those little babies have turned out to be. 

I will never be able to fully express how grateful I am for my parents and everything they have done for me, everything they have taught me and everything that they sacrificed the last 34 years of my life. All I can hope is that I have made them proud and I have lived up to all the hopes and dreams they had for me from the very first time they laid eyes on me. 

Throwback Thursday - April 24, 2014

Aunt Marji and I at the Mousetrap Bar (no idea who the creepy guy in the background is). 

This weeks Throwback Thursday is dedicated to my godmother, Aunt Marji. We lost her just 2 short weeks ago. 

I always admired my Aunt. She was so strong. In her early 20's, she had a kidney transplant, she was born with only one kidney. Doctors at one point told her that she would never have kids. She went on to have 2 beautiful children, one who literally became a rocket scientist and the other a teacher. That first kidney lasted for many years, until she once again began the process of regular dialysis until another kidney was available for her. 

In 2012, our prayers were answered and she got the call that a match had been found. However, our joy was short lived when in June of 2013, she found out that she had ovarian cancer. The same cancer that took her mother's life (my grandmother) in 1996. With advancements in cancer treatments, we were always hopeful that she would beat this thing. She endured round after round of chemo, all the while hoping her new kidney would withstand the stress. After the cancer had shrunk enough, the doctors performed a hysterectomy and again we were hopeful this was all over. But the cancer had made its way to other places. Attacking other organs in her body. She lost weight, a lot of weight. She lost her hair. But she never lost her spirit. 

Unfortunately, the cancer won and she passed peacefully surrounded by her family. 

She fought hard. She endured more than anyone that I have ever known, but she always smiled. On the surface, she had a "thems the breaks" type of attitude. Just like my grandmother did. 

I always felt a kinship with my aunt. Although I didn't go through anywhere near what she did, we both had c sections. Both our first born were preemie, although hers a few weeks sooner than mine. Whenever I was concerned about Brandon, I thought of her son, who was born at 28 weeks, he is the rocket scientist.

And as with my grandmother, I never understood how someone could face so much uncertainty and endure so much and still stay positive and be grateful for the things that they do have. However, it's people like my aunt and my grandmother that have taught me no mater what, there is always something to be thankful for, even when the situation seems hard and bleak.

I love my aunt dearly and will always miss her. But I know she is no longer living in pain and she is at peace. 

Throwback Thursday - April 17, 2014

Our Wedding Day - April 19,. 2008

This Saturday, Chris and I will celebrate our 6th wedding anniversary. So much has changed in our life since we said "I do". We've moved to a 2 bedroom apartment, we had a beautiful little boy that has brought more joy to our lives than we could have ever imagined possible. We've got different vehicles, we've got more debt. We've even changed jobs a few times. We've loved, we've lost. We've fought, we've made up. We've tried and given up. We've succeeded and we've failed. We have a new little boy on the way. 

But through it all, we have loved each other. We have made it through things that would otherwise tear people apart. When others thought that there was no way that we could ever possibly make it, we did. When the cards were dealt against us, we always managed to come out on top. 

We are polar opposites, but we are exactly the same. He is the other shoe that makes my perfect pair. When I fall, he picks me back up. When he falls, I laugh. LOL, no just kidding. Okay, maybe only partly kidding. Humor is something that is never lacking in our lives. We laugh at ourselves, we laugh at each other. But we are always laughing together. 

We live a simple life. When we were dating we used to always dream about the huge house we would have and the fancy cars we would drive. But as we have moved through life together, we have come to realize that those things aren't the things that make a marriage. Having dinner together after a long day, even if it is pasta for a second night in a row. Sitting on the couch watching our favorite shows, even if we don't say a word. Snuggling at night while laying in bed and him waiting for me to fall asleep before he rolls over to face the other way. A simple text message to say "hi, how's your day". A hug when nothing is going right. A pep talk when you feel at your lowest. Knowing that no matter what you do, there will always be someone in your corner. Having someone to come home to, a home that no matter how small or messy at times, is ours that we have built together. Having someone to tell you you're right or wrong. Honestly. 

The last 6 years have been some of the most rewarding and challenging times of my life. But I wouldn't trade them for the world because I know I am going through them with my best friend. 

Taking Charge of Health

A few weeks ago, my husband and I started having a serious conversation about expanding our family and having another child. We explored everything; potential financial implications, employment or lack thereof, ways to gain income other than our 9-5 jobs to help build a nest egg and even when the ideal time to get pregnant was so I didn't have to go through the heat of the summer. We know this is pretty beyond our control, but we're planners...down to the nitty gitty planners. Heck, we even came up with a plan to buy a house. We left no stone unturned, or so we thought. Ultimately, we were satisfied that we thought it through enough and that now was a good a time as any.

 

Then, as if my body screamed out in protest, I broke out in a rash that was in many ways similar to the rash I had when I was pregnant with our son. It was an awful rash, the kind of itch that is so deeply embedded in your skin, you could literally tear your skin open just trying to get to it. This rash had all the makings of that, but I knew I wasn't pregnant. I had an appointment with my OB/GYN anyway to make sure all my parts were working and there was nothing we should worry about. All clear...except the rash. I started a 6 day prednisone pack and away the rash went. Until a week later, it was back. Now I started to get concerned and made an appointment with my primary doctor. She started me on an 18 day high dose prednisone regime. It's been fine since, however, I stop taking the prednisone Saturday and I pray it doesn't come back. Because until we figure this out, our baby plans are stalled.

 

In another week, we'll draw blood and test for everything and anything under the sun. If we don;t find anything there, off to the allergist I go...if it comes back.

 

One thing we didn't discuss was health. Were we healthy enough to attempt pregnancy again? I will be the first to admit that when we tried for our son, we definitely didn't take the proper steps to ensure our health and the health of the pregnancy before hand. I was overweight, a smoker and didn't exercise regularly. I ate all the wrong foods at all the wrong times, my body was not equipped to handle the stress of a pregnancy. But surprisingly enough, we got pregnant pretty easily.

 

This started to get me super focused on improving my families health and the health of our future little one. First on the chopping block...our diet. A few months ago I tried a shake diet. the shakes were really good, and there were so many different ones to create, but after a while I grew bored with it. I love food, and I love variety and texture. Shakes were not it. I did drop a few pounds and that made me motivated to find healthy options for the things that I like to eat...not drink. I really just made the best possible choices with the information that I had until I discovered the Drop 10 Diet. What drew me to this diet was the customizable nature of it. You customize it to your tastes and schedule. The object is to arm you with the information you need to make your own healthy living choices. So, it really isn't a diet, it's a behavior change. THAT I can do!!

 

It's really exciting to start on the journey to healthy living and taking control of my families health.

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