My Son and His Bad Day

Everyone has a bad day and today was Adam‘s bad day. It didn’t start of bad but it ended badly. Today Adam achieved a major milestone today. Finally my son has got the concept of chewing. I gave him Cheerios and put on his bib and watch him figure out why they’re on his high-chair table. After watching me eating a few of his Cheerios, he got the gist (somewhat) that the Cheerios are to be eaten, not thrown on the floor (where most of them ended up anyway). I am so proud of him and I gave him praise when he managed to put them in his mouth and actually chew on them and not gag and then throw up whatever he managed to get down.

Towards the afternoon-evening-ish, Sir Adam the Great got a bit fussy. I couldn’t figure out what the problem was. He was fed, changed, I held and entertained him but nothing seemed to work. Then it dawned on me that his top teeth are cutting his gums. I slapped some baby Orajel on them puppies and he ate most of it but he was still fussy. He practically cried for the rest of the evening until he fell asleep. I didn’t like that my baby was unhappy but I had to realize that babies have bad days and I guess today was Adam’s bad day.

The Top 10 Things I Say to My Son On A Daily Basis

Sometimes I feel like a broken record. My son isn’t even a year old yet and I already feel like I’ve wasted a lot of good oxygen telling him to do something knowing full well he’s just going to look at me with that adorable devilish grin he has when he’s doing something he shouldn’t. There are things of course I can say to him that I will never grow tired of saying. Unfortunately, it’s only a few things. Here are the top 10 things I say to my beloved everyday.

  1. I love you. I could say this over and over and over again and never grow tired of saying it. It’s because it’s true. I love my son with every fiber of my being. Even if he waits to sit on my lap to start passing gas.
  2. Hey, put that down Adam! Yea, like he can actually understand what I’m saying and comply.
  3. No! He laughs like it’s a game when I say no. It’s just so hard to say no to him with a stern look on my face. He calls my bluff every time.
  4. Come…here. This, he actually understands but he’ll look at you, laugh and crawl away from you THEN crawl towards you to let you know whose boss.
  5. Get your finger(s) out of your mouth and you won’t gag! One of these days he’ll listen to me.
  6. You are such a munchkin. He is! My definition of munchkin:An unusually large 11 month old that can pass for a 18 month old who is hell-bent on getting into every little thing someone his age isn’t supposed to get in to. For instance: mommy’s nick knacks on her desk(s). He’s not supposed to be that tall yet to reach up that high!
  7. Adam, give me that. Of course he does the opposite and fights to the death not to give me whatever it is that he has.
  8. Let go of mommy’s hair! I don’t know what it is with my hair but when he grabs on, he grabs on for dear life and squeals like a little piglet.
  9. You are stubborn just like your father. Hopefully, I don’t say that when gets old enough to fully understand what I mean by that. I need to get that under control.
  10. Calm down sweetie, we’ll be leaving in a minute! He get’s real antsy when he knows he’s about to go out. If I even look like I’m about to go the opposite direction of the door, he cries bloody murder!

Laughing While Asleep

I went through the usual ritual I go through when putting my son to sleep for the night. It took a little longer than usual because he took a late nap but I knew he was tired because he was nodding off in my lap. Anyway, when he finally fell asleep, I did the “you better be sleep” test to see if he’s truly sleep or he’s playing me, I sit there for like 10 minutes He’s sleeping away when all of a sudden, he starts laughing. I look down and he’s asleep. I don’t know why but tears immediately started coming down my face without warning. I never heard a baby, let alone my son, giggle that long or that hard (or at all) in their sleep. It kind of threw me off guard when the tears started falling.

Babies are so innocent, all they need is attention and love. The way you treat them will show in their actions and demeanor. He I guess was so happy and content with himself at that moment, he was laughing in his sleep. I bet it was about his dad doing something goofy. I have to tickle him for him to laugh; I don’t have to do anything to make him smile though. That laugh was so adorable and innocent, I held him for another 30 minutes. When I put him in his crib finally, I was standing there waiting for it to happen again. After 15 minutes or so, I left the bedroom a little disappointed when it didn’t happen. Maybe it was just a once in a lifetime thing?

This little boy had me at my first positive pregnancy test; there was no hello needed. He keeps me on my toes and does something new everyday. My little man is growing so fast …okay, I got to go before I get tears all over my keyboard.

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Master of Destruction and Hair Puller

You’re 11 months today! You’ve been on this earth, driving me crazy for 11 months. Time sure does fly, doesn’t it? I’m so proud of you!

To celebrate, we walked to the library and sat in the reading garden for a spell. We couldn’t stay there too long because of all the mosquitoes and other flying insects. They didn’t seem to bother you but I didn’t want you to get bit and I forgot to get you some baby bug repellent (do they even make repellent forbabies?). We then strolled downtown and saw a huge white tent in the middle ofPublic Square. The Horseshoe Casino opened up today. Forgot all about that. We hurried our tails back up to our place and finished cleaning up. You of course got into everything you thought you were grown enough to get in – after you followed me around the apartment for a while. Your gums have been bothering you all day, making you a little irritable and felt the need to chomp down on my hand on occasion. This of course made you laugh when I took my hand out of your mouth and said, “ow sweetness, dang, that hurt”.

This is after I caught him getting into stuff he wasn’t supposed to. He crawled back to me smiling like it was a game.

You’re still edging around furniture when you want to take steps. You’re very confident in trying to climb up my leg but it seems you’re not quite ready yet to start taking those first big steps. I need you to hold off on that okay? I want your dad to be the first person to see you walk.

After I finished cleaning up, we watched Finding Nemo and it kept your attention for a while. I held you for pretty much the rest of the day. You of course clicked and clacked away at my keyboard and tried to yank the mouse out of the USB port. When you weren’t doing that, you were pulling my hair. I ask why do babies insist on pulling their mother’s hair and get a devilish kick out of doing it every time you do it. It’s a wonder I don’t have bald spots in the back of my head or huge patches of really short hair.

Anyway, I fed you, bathed you and let you play in your bath water until I thought that you’ve had enough fun for one day. You were rubbing your eyes so I knew it was time for bed.

I laid you on the bed I sleep in, and laid next to you and watch you do your infamous I’m-really-sleepy-and-my-eyes-are-heavy-but-I’m-going-to-roll-around-on-the-bed-until-I-fall-asleep dance. You finally fell asleep and I kissed the space between your eyebrows and laid you in your crib. I must say dude, your arms are long and I can see why you hate sleeping in that thing, you have no room to maneuver.

Now I’m sitting here contemplating on what I’m going to wear to your grandma’s graduation this Wednesday. I’m also contemplating on whether I should do my school work now or in the morning. Mommy is really tired though and I guess it can wait until tomorrow.

Mommy loves you sweetie!

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A Mom on Suicide Watch: How I Almost Spent Mother’s Day in a Psych Ward

I know some of you may read this and say, “Oh no! Not you! You seem so happy in your blogs! You’re a gamer, how can you be on the edge of self-destruction?!” Everyone gets depressed sometimes, well; I’m depressed most of the time; if not all the time. It’s recently, I was on the brink of a nervous break down, all it took was one more push and I was going to lose it. On May 11, 2012, I lost it; I lost my sanity.

On June 9, my husband and I got into one last fight (I will not mention the details) and this fight made me feel like a child, like I couldn’t do anything without his approval. I do what I’m supposed to do, take care of my son and do my best to make my husband happy. This marriage was doomed from the beginning, the only reason why we got married was because of the baby; nothing more. It won’t be a year until June 5th and we couldn’t even make it that far. This marriage was filled with a lot of arguing and crying; crying and arguing. On the inside I wasn’t truly happy because I knew this wasn’t love but I was trying to make it work. Once upon a time, I was in love with my husband but as I sat and looked at him every day: playing video games, eating up the food I provide, disregard my feelings, only played with his son when he felt like it, wasn’t working. I felt like the world; my world was sitting on my shoulders. I was trying to find a job, still am, trying to find a daycare/baby sitter so I can work, go to school, be a wife, a mother and a slave of my mind. I was on the brink of self-destruction and there was no stopping me.

Apparently my soon-to-be ex-husband didn’t like that I went to go see a friend, nor did he like that I put a password on my computer. On June 10, he gets on my Xbox 360, using my 26″ computer monitor, sitting in my apartment, and eating my food, bashing me, talking about me to whoever it was on the other end of that headset of his. He didn’t have the decency to come to me and tell me why he felt that I shouldn’t have a social life since he’s the reason I alienated all of my friends. I snapped! I was at first going to go get him bus fare and tell him to get out of my life and never come back, but, he stopped me when he saw I was going somewhere. He actually got up out of his seat of self-righteousness to ask me where I was going; after I ignored him the first time. Mind you, this man will just up and leave and don’t tell me where he’s going but if I do the same thing — catch 22. So, he steps in front of me and say “so are you going to tell me where you’re going?” and I ask him, “are you going to stop bashing me over the internet?” and he proceeds to say, “well look at what you’re doing!” What in the hell exactly was I doing? You’d be pissed too if I was sitting there on the Xbox 360 slinging mud on your name. To make a long story short, I banned him; I banned him from my apartment building. I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t take the back and forth anymore. I’m sick of the makeup, just to wake up, to break up. I sat there in the bedroom listening him to him while contemplating on what to do.

Well, when the security guard and another guy who works in the building were on our way upstairs, the security guard tells me that my husband took my son and he left. My heart instantly fell out of my chest and I looked like a ghost. I couldn’t move, or breathe. I head outside and he’s standing at the bus stop with my son so, I walk up and grab one of the handles on the stroller. He grabs the stroller and tells me, “He’s my son too and since you’re kicking me out, you’re kicking him out too. You can come over my mom house to see him”. I told him no the hell I’m not, he’s not going anywhere. He tells me that he’s the father again and that he can take him. I tell him, not without me knowing and not without permission. Of course he then makes it about him and says, “You banned me so I can’t see him”. Dude! You were supposed to be banned weeks ago for punching my ex-boyfriend in the face. I still don’t understand why he was so mad at me when either way I would still be living here and he wouldn’t be able to see his son if he was banned for the violence he displayed in the hallway. The other guy that was with the security guard asked him to calm down and I were still yelling telling him that it had nothing to do with not letting him see his son. It was about my sanity! He was stressing me out and I couldn’t take it anymore. The security guard mentioned something about having the police called if it this can’t be resolved and Adam looks at me and says, “Well the police is gone have to be called”. All the blood that didn’t leave my face the first time left my face just then. My blood-pressure rose and I was getting dizzy. I didn’t need this now. I look down and glanced at my son and he’s without shoes, had on shorts that were too small, too small socks, a too small hat and a shirt. The only thing that made sense was the blanket. It wasn’t warm out that day and he didn’t even bring the boy’s shoes. He was taking my baby out of spite; to hurt me.

The other guy pulled Adam to the side and talked to him, he convinced Adam to give me the baby’s baby bag and his blanket which he refused to give when I gained control of the stroller. I immediately got my son in the building and went upstairs. Not long after that Adam text me calling me a bitch and saying how wrong I was. I didn’t respond back in a nasty way, I was very respectful the time he was mangling my character. I tried to get him to calm down and try to explain why I did what I did but he wasn’t having it. He was focused on hurting me. He was focusing on bringing up my past mistakes to justify why I kicked him out. On June 11th, 2012 he continued his bashing and verbal abuse; threatening a custody battle, and a lot of other things that seem too ridiculous to point out. When he called me a slut and then made that threat to take me on live television (Steve Wilkos), I was done. I was tired. I wanted out.

I made my son a bottle and sat him in his lounger. After 2 days, I finally cried; I finally let it out. I simply wanted to die; I didn’t want to live any more. I wanted to take all of my Trazodone, and just leave this world and I was so tempted, so ready, so willingly to do it. I took one look at my son playing with his now empty bottle — squirming around in his lounger and I knew I couldn’t do it but the thoughts would not leave. Then I started to think: “maybe I should kill myself so there won’t be a custody battle and Adam can have his son without a fight”. I was all out of fight, I was surprised that I wasn’t all out of tears; I spent most of this marriage crying my eyes out. I called mobile crisis. I told them that I needed help, could they send someone out here. All I needed at that moment was someone to talk to, to get my mind off of killing myself; leaving my son without a mother. The woman from mobile crisis had the dispatcher from the police department on the phone talking to me — asking me how old my son was, what I like to do for fun, what I’m in college for, things like that. The police didn’t take long to get to get to my apartment. I hung up the phone and let the policemen into my slightly messy house. They asked me was I okay and let me know why they were there in my apartment. I told them how I was feeling and that I needed help. They told me to get some things for the baby and grab my keys and phone. I did just that and then we were headed downstairs to the cop car.

When I got to the hospital, they took my vitals and blood while my son sat there frowned up wondering what was going on. I felt like I was the worse mother in the world. How could I let my son see me go through this? I thought I was stronger than this. So many things were running through my mind and all I could was cry. One of the nurses put my hospital bracelet on me and told me that someone would call me. I sat back out in the waiting room and called my grandmother and told her that someone needs to come and get my child. My brother and sister came up there and took my son home with them. I waited.

Minutes had gone by and a nurse came out and called my name. I got up and followed her to the back. When I got to my room it looked like an old storage room. It had a bed, a chair and a table. That was it. The television was behind glass and there was a cage that could be brought down to keep people from making a phone call or messing with the plugs on the wall. There was also a camera in the room. I was now on suicide watch. I sat there and looked at those walls for 6 damn hours. I cried most of the time because I let a man put me in here. I let him scare me into a hospital. I hated myself and I truly wished I was dead then; I definitely didn’t want to live any more.

In between the time I was sitting there, I had 3 different nurses come in to check on me. One gave me a dry turkey sandwich, graham crackers, applesauce and a ginger ale. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I bit into the sandwich. I sat in silence the entire time, I didn’t want to watch television, I didn’t want to lie down, and I wanted to be left alone. After 7 hours or so, the Psychologist finally comes in to talk to me. I tell her how I’m feeling and why I’m here and she asks for phone numbers — I told her my life story and she wanted phone numbers. She wanted my grandmother’s phone number and my primary Psychologist’s phone number. She left to make her calls and it was at least 30 minutes before she came back to tell me that she wants me to go to the psych ward out in Richmond, Ohio — told me that I have to stay there for 3 days.

It’s 11:30 at night and I’m now at the psych ward talking to nurses and the primary psychologist at the ward. It took them at least an hour to get everything situated. They asked me a series of questions: they asked about my family, was I sexually abused the illnesses that run in my family, why I was there, did I still feel suicidal. They asked me everything, at this point, I just wanted to wring their necks and tell them I’m sick of all these questions, I just want someone to talk to. When they were done they gave me the run-down on what I could and could not do and what I could and could not have. You couldn’t wear anything with strings; you couldn’t have cell phones, no jewelry — nothing! Everything I had with me that day they confiscated; even my husband’s necklace of Africa that I was rubbing and holding on to when I left my apartment. They showed me my room, gave me an extra blanket, and my Trazodone and I went to sleep.

It’s May 12, 2012 and I miss my son terribly. I want to go home and look into his big eyes and tell him how sorry I am. I wanted to hold my son, kiss my son, and be with my son. I didn’t want to be anywhere else. I was so mad at myself for letting someone get to me like that. I slept until one of the nurses came in and told me that my grandmother was on the line. She sounded more depressed than I looked. She wanted me home; she wanted me to be with my son, not in some psych ward with other suicidal people. On a side note: there were more black people there than any other race. That woke me up. Anyway, I talked to my grandmother for 5 minutes because I remember what they told me the previous night: “no calls longer than 10 minutes”. I walked out into the sitting area where people were eating breakfast and gave the woman behind the glass wall the phone and I stumbled back to my bed and laid back down. I felt like I was in an episode of House MD. There were people screaming and giggling. There was this one woman who blurted out rap verses in the middle of group session and another chick who smiled nonstop. At that moment, I felt like the sanest person in the building.

I wanted to go home; I wanted to be with my son. I felt like I was in jail; I felt lost. The only thing that I got comfort from was reading a book. If you haven’t read James Patterson – Suzanne’s Diary for Nicholas, it’s a must read. That was a very good book and it made time go by quickly. The psychiatrist for the weekend finally came and he sat down and talked with me first. He asked me the same questions that the other nurses and doctors asked me and he told me a few things that I need to do. We sat and talked, and talked, and talked and then he told me, “You can go home today, instead of Monday”. I wanted to cry, not because I was going home so soon, but because I felt like I should have never been there to begin with. That’s not some place I never want to go again.

I was told by my doctors to walk away from arguments when possible. Don’t talk to that person for an entire day if they provoke me. He told me that I can’t be around for my son if I don’t make my health a top priority. He told me that I did the right thing by calling and getting help. He also told me to not worry about who loves me and who doesn’t; the only person that loves me unconditionally is my son. That statement kind of made me sad but, ok, I got his point. He told me to keep taking my antidepressants and staying healthy and happy; things will eventually turn out for the better. No telling when that’ll be, I’ve been waiting for 24 damn years.

To put it in a nut shell, accusations that weren’t true, the name calling, the verbal abuse, it pushed me over the edge and I couldn’t take it anymore. I’ll never let anyone else make me go through that again. The food was a level above regurgitated vomit, the people scared me, I missed my baby, and I’m glad that I didn’t spend my first Mother’s Day in a psych ward.

The Best Thing I’ve Done is Be a Mom

Further into my pregnancy, I started to worry: I worried that my son wouldn’t like me — that I’ll be a failure as a mom. I was afraid that when he was born he was going to take one look at me and scream out in agony.

When I found out I was pregnant, I was months into my pregnancy and I should have known I was pregnant the moment I missed my period but my menstrual cycle has never been regular. I never understood why I was so excited that I was pregnant when I knew and felt that being a mom is something I couldn’t do. This wasn’t my first pregnancy. My very first pregnancy, I was 17 years old. Young and stupid. Doing things that I thought I was grown enough to do. The first time I have sex I wind up pregnant; I was scared. I was scared of what my friends would think. I was scared that I wouldn’t finish school. That all changed when my grandmother told me to get an abortion. When my grandmother made me get an abortion, I was devastated but sadly, relieved. I was in my last year of school and was months away from graduating. My grandmother told me that I can’t have a child get in the way of me finishing school. All I could think was that, she’s my grandmother and she wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.

Then I miscarried years and years after that. I didn’t even have an idea of what a miscarriage was. All I knew was that my cramps were excruciating and they only came around the same time every evening. I was bleeding heavily and crying every night until I finally went to the hospital and they told me that I was pregnant but were no longer. When I got home I took it out on my ex-boyfriend because he wasn’t there for me. Every night I was alone crying and in pain and when I saw him all I saw was red. Then I got mad at myself, how could I take care of a child when I couldn’t take care of myself? I felt like such a failure and it was my fault. I blamed myself for the miscarriage for a very long time.

I stopped blaming myself when I gave birth to my son. He didn’t look at me with agonizing pain, he didn’t scream in terror. He just looked at me through squinted eyes as they were clearing his airways and stared. When they wrapped him up and handed him to me, I was frightened, tired, and excited. So many emotions flowing through me but in the back of my head I was still worried of what he would think of me. I soon realized that my worries were unnecessary. My son doesn’t care how I look; he doesn’t think I’m the worse mom ever; or a failure. He’s everything to me. He’s my hero, my strength, my reason for living. He makes me so happy and everyday he makes me smile.

Being a mom is the best thing I’ve ever done with my life. I love being a mom. Every other aspect of my life I failed at. I’m a failure as a friend, a sister, an artist, a wife. I push all of my friends away, I lose interest in things I love and push those away too. I never have been close to my siblings so I pushed them farther away. I’m sure there are more that I’m forgetting but the point is, being a mom is what I was meant to be. There’s so many parts of my life that I screwed up by making the wrong decisions. I think the very first one was when I let my grandmother convince me that getting an abortion was okay when I knew in my heart it wasn’t. I wanted my baby and I should have stood up for myself.

I love my son unconditionally, I love him so much. I can talk to him and not fear of judgment. When he smiles at me, my world lights up like a jar full of fireflies. I feel like I was born to be a mother and I’m glad I got a chance to experience motherhood. What I miss the most though is his kicking and punching inside my belly. I miss rubbing my stomach only for him to respond back by kicking my hand. Even though my pregnancy experience wasn’t all that great and I was stressed out for most of it, the end result is all that mattered. I gave birth to my hero. He makes me happy when I’m down and make my day a lot better. He makes me crazy sometimes and yea he can be a handful but he’s the reason why I live. I live for my son and my son only. He’s all I have and I’m fine with that fact.