Eyes and Feet

They say that you will forget the pain of delivering your baby, otherwise you would never have another one. I remember almost every detail about my pregnancy and delivery. I cherished every part of it...even those not-so-dignified moments.

After having Kenny, I braced myself for those "baby blues" but they never showed up. I do remember being sad now and again but mostly out of sheer exhaustion. I remember the smiles, the giggles, the rolling over, the worries that I wasn't good enough, the hope, the milestones big and small. I remember not wanting to share Kenny with anyone even if it would help me out for hubby to hold him while I cooked dinner. I am a little crazy, but I have embraced that part of me and sometimes it makes me happy. At least I am a little unique, right?

You know how when you hear a song and "boom" you have triggered some memory of dancing with the cute guy in school. You can feel the music, smell the smells, remember the colors. You feel 16 again. When I look into Kenny's big blue eyes today I am thrown back to the days when he was so young all he did was eat, sleep, poop and stare at my face. When I see his little chubby (yep, still chubby) "Flinstone" feet, I am thrown back to the times when he would kick the heck out of me because he was excited or mad. When I hold his hand I get thrown back to the time when he first grasped that little singing star rattle that was his favorite toy for the first 6 months of his life! When I watch him sleep I am thrown back to all the times I sang to him while I held him warm and soft.

Sitting here at the computer, I can recall some of the big moments. Watching my grandmother sing to him and watching him simply melt in her arms. Watching Jason's grandfather, Kenny's great-grandfather hold him for the first, and unfortunately only time. Sadly we lost his great-grandfather just a week later. I hold on to that sweet image of an ill yet strong and honorable man looking proudly at his infant great-grandson. His first Halloween and the costume I made that took me 6 weeks. His first Thanksgiving and watching him marvel at the taste of a little gravy from my spoon. His first Christmas and how we spent 80 bucks on that damn Christmas tree because his first Christmas tree had to be "perfect" and tall. His first New Years Eve where I sat next to his sleeping sweet face at midnight and told him all the great things that happens in your life in a year's time. Still, the best memories of my little miracle are triggered a hundred times a day while I watch him, feed him, teach him, hold him and yes, even reprimand him. If I try too hard to think about his first year of life it becomes a blur, but if I simply run my hand through his beautiful blond hair or hold his hand, every moment from the first time I saw those eyes and those feet comes flooding into my head. I tear up a lot during the course of a day. Even during a bad day when Kenny is trying really hard to get me assigned to the nearest loony bin.

Here are the nine months of my sweet miracle come to life.

3 mos 5 mos 6 mos 7 mos




9 mos

I have come a far distance from that depressed hunk of flesh waiting, maybe hoping to take my last breath. My son was the first step...a big step in a journey to find myself, to find my sense of purpose, to find who I should have been from the start. Sure, I kept up "appearances" for family and friends, but in the end I pushed away anyone to arm's length who could hurt me. I made lame jokes to cover.

No one could ever push away this face. I couldn't. The spirit and soul of this innocent child is pure love. He infected me with it.

Now, step two. Felicia. Ha! Wait to hear this one.

Next you will learn all about Felicia.