What?

This not the bikini view you hoped for?

Me neither.

But unfortunately, this is what I have now.

I was so relieved when I avoided surgery while giving birth two months ago.

Apparently, my sighs were a tad premature.

Friday night I was rushed from the E.R. to the operating room to have my appendix removed.

Awesome right?

Now I look like I was sprayed in a drive by shooting.

There is a third bandage, but I’ve decided that way too many people have been looking at my lady parts as of late.

I am still trying to look past the fact that this all happened at a teaching hospital, with many, many students.

And I did not shave that day.

And my panties had a hole.

And I was in the E.R. for so long without a pump that my boobs leaked everywhere.

I’d laugh at myself, but it freaking hurts.

Yup, I’ve resolved that I will be so far from looking hot for a very, very long time.

Good thing I have Percocet to get me through it all.

Narcotics and stool softeners.

It’s all good.

—

Moms do a lot so be sure to send flowers for Mothers Day this year.

Like a high school girl dating a new guy, I was weak.

On March 21st, my world suddenly shifted off of it’s axis and began revolving around my new baby girl.  Flowers were suddenly in bloom.  Birds sat perched outside my window, serenading a beautiful tune. And my heart yearned to spend every waking (and half-waking) moment with my baby.  Holding her.  Loving her.

Once she came into my life, everything became a pink and lavender haze.  Her feedings, breast pumps, Babisodes’ adjustment, laundry, meals, preschool- all of these were suddenly thrown in my direction to juggle daily.  As a result, my relationships with friends and family were unintentionally tossed aside.

Subconsciously, I put blinders on, allowing me to focus.

Forward.  Ahead.

It is the only direction I’ve seen in the last month. Particularly since everything appears to move in fast-forward.  Hours turn into seconds. What’s for lunch? Do we have clean laundry for tomorrow?

Despite how idle it has been on this blog, behind the scenes, I have been fully engaged in motherhood.  But not a day goes by where I don’t wish I had the time to document all of the ordinary things going on right now that I know will make me smile in a few years.  I reminisce about the time when I could capture my life through words on this blog. When this blog, and all of you, were my shoulders to cry on, my buddies to laugh with, confidants to seek advice from.

But I’ve been distracted.

Every morning, the baby’s tiny tucked body fills my arms more, widening my embrace.  In her new role as ‘big sister’, Babisodes has begun to demand more autonomy each day, even though it is unwarranted.

In a blink of an eye, over a month has slipped away.  And as I take a moment to pause, I realize I have reached that transitional point in any relationship when the honeymoon phase has passed.   The point where I am so sleep deprived, I could pack a much needed vacation’s worth of luggage into the bags beneath my eyes; when the baby’s sweet smell is really just sour milk and vomit; when those damn birds outside need to shut the hell up because it’s 4 o’clock in the morning.

When reality sets in and the world of pink and lavender suddenly transforms to an uneasy shade of ‘holy crap-I-actually-have-two-kids’.

The point where I wish I had an old friend to chat with, or a place to retreat, so I could just complete a thought.

A friend like you.  A place just like this.

My closest friends in life are the ones who have been able to pick up right where we left off, no matter how much time passes between phone calls, emails or visits.  They are the ones who have stood the test of time.

I would love to consider you one of them.

Because I have so much I want to tell you.

Check out Beth Miga’s photography blog post for more delicious photos of Babisodes 2.0… or Bittysodes…or Youngersodes.   I cannot thank her enough for her amazing photography skills.   If you are anywhere near the Boston area, you should definitely consider her to photograph you and/or your wee ones.  She is awesome.

Can you tell I still have yet to settle on a name for the baby?  HALP!

From full bars to none, in the last nine months I feel as if I’ve exhausted my energy trying to get by.  I gaze outside, searching for something recognizable, a connection that will lead me to a familiar place.  Like a freeway off-ramp to a different town, but must surely be the one that leads you to where you want to go.

Or so it seems.

Back in July, I somehow tested positive on a pregnancy test after a final round of Clomid.

After a year of trying to conceive, endless medical tests, and medication side effects, I had had little hope that month.  But a stroke of luck proved me wrong.

I never imagined this path would be straight or evenly paved.   Especially since this is not my first time down this road.  Albeit 5 years since my last pregnancy, I figured I would recognize, perhaps even anticipate, some of the twists and turns along the way.

The lack of morning sickness, carrying low, a lower fetal heart rate, all pointed in the direction of a boy.  All unfamiliar from when I had my girl.

Alas, I was wrong again.  The sonographer saw a taco, not a hot dog.

As early as 18 weeks pregnant, I already began having contractions.  None of them strong or too alarming, but contractions nonetheless.  In my previous pregnancy I began preterm labor at 25 weeks and was placed on bed rest until I gave birth at 38 weeks.

This time around, due to the earlier contractions, I had high hopes that this baby would be our first sign of spring after a long, bizarre weathered winter.

But today, at 39 weeks pregnant, there is still little indication of this baby vacating the premises anytime soon.  Birthing Babisodes at 38 weeks was incredibly difficult due to her size, and I worry that if this child cooks for much longer, they may need to go in and get her.

I feel as if I’ve driven past the right exit-ramp a dozen times now, but every time, a barricade is blocking the path.

Perhaps this little one takes after me and wants to make sure all signs of winter are gone before making her exit.  Or maybe she lost her GPS signal as well.

Either way, I hope this detour isn’t much longer.

I washed and put away most of our winter gear today.  Just in case.

“Mommy, can we go into the ocean now?”

I slowly stand and untie the sarong from my hips and gently toss my hair to shake out the sand.  This sends the little feet beside me dancing, anticipating the splashes to come.

The shock from the chilly sea jolts me back to reality.

I am actually in my living room, sitting in an armchair.  I must have dozed off momentarily while my daughter sleeps on the sofa.

My body sits still as my head continues to swirl.

It wasn’t really a dream.  It happened.

Six months ago in a warmer place, during a more carefree time.

When the only temperature that mattered was the atmosphere outside, and thermometers were rarely placed under a tongue.

Where living is done outdoors, and no age limit applies to getting drunk on the sun.

A time when sunshine fueled the energy of my child.

We are coming up to day 7 of sickness in our house.  My daughter’s fever continues to linger and is taking its sweet time to taper down.    This is the longest she has ever been ill, and I’m sure her hacking cough will persist for weeks.  I am keeping a close eye for any pneumonia-like symptoms.

Her pediatrician says she most likely has H1N1 (her official diagnosis today after dodging our calls all week).

We have been cooped up inside since last week Friday.  In that time, the temperature outside has dipped down and a new batch of leaves blanket our yard.

When we look out the window, the tree in our backyard is just about barren now.

Every leaf fallen, leaving an arbor ghost.

Each one gone, except one.

“When will I have my birthday again?”

And who can blame her? I have distinct memories of wishing I could attend the same big kid elementary school as my older brother. Then in high school, I remember crossing off the days I would no longer be a bottom feeding freshman.

Is there an innate desire to yearn for what lies ahead? I suppose I raised this question because I have never seen a child say, “I love being ten. I wish I could be ten forever.”

I know I certainly never felt that way. Time seemed to pass at a turtles pace throughout childhood, always looking forward to the next holiday or day off from school. It was not until I hit my mid-twenties that I wished timed would slow down.  Actually, just freeze for a while.  The prospect of thirty was not a welcome one.

However, thirty came and went, with plenty of milestones passed along the way. Things such as buying a home… twice, having a child, moving across the country, and switching careers. Events that seemingly accelerated the passing of years.

Last year has been no different. In a blink of an eye, my baby turned four, our family went from making ends meet and saving money to unemployment and digging deep into our life savings.  After a year long struggle with trying to conceive we have finally been rewarded with an early baby bump.

However, what I have learned since I was young and wishing I could be madly in love forever, is that the only constant in life is change.

Time stands still for no one, and there are no guarantees for tomorrow. Although the light at the end of the tunnel may represent new possibilities, it will not be the only dark and narrow passageway that lies ahead.

Last week, after a year of struggling with precancerous cervical cells and treatments, my pap smear returned with unexpected NORMAL results (even though my last biopsy four months ago yielded abnormal cells).

My doctor and practitioners have reassured me that this sometimes just happens.

Somehow I’ve found the light.  Or perhaps it found me.

Either way, I am acutely aware that this may not last forever.

But for now, I am basking in the warmth.

And for that I am grateful.

Grateful for today.