Home Sweet Home

In exactly one week from today my car will be packed, Olivia will be snoozin (hopefully) in the backseat, and we will be on our 10 hour 'adventure' back to North Carolina. Now let's all have a moment of silence, and pray.

When BW started leaving on and off for trainings, I began to get a feel for what it would be like doing it on my own. I worked from home, while caring for an infant and experiencing a roller coaster of emotions because my husband was constantly in and out the door.We were always washing his uniform, always packing his bags, always saying goodbye. There would be no end to this until Spring of 2013, for which, I saw no end in sight. Our phone calls were filled with (my) tears, anxieties, and exhaustion. He begged me to do something, pleaded with me to make a decision. Was I going to stay? Or was I going to go? I felt if I went I was giving up; that I was already saying I couldn't do it. I was weeks away from a significant pay raise at work. I'd be leaving our home, Olivia's freshly painted nursery. I'd be leaving everything BW and I created before he left. It would just sit there, untouched. On the flip side, I thought of dealing with Olivia's first fever alone, her first real sickness, her first words, her tantrums. She wasn't the easiest baby, and he knew that. He reassured me it wasn't giving up, and left the decision up to me. I did not want to do this alone.  The decision was made.

Shortly after I settled in with my parents, I left to visit BW in El Paso before he left for Afghanistan. There is nothing comparable to the moment in which we said our 'goodbyes.' When my Dad picked me up from the airport he asked how it went. "I just can't stop crying." ...and I cried, and cried. At this point I knew. I knew it wasn't about 'doing it alone,' because I could very well do it, but the enormity of the situation and what I was about to experience was something bigger then I was. It wasn't about late night fevers, or temper tantrums; it was about weeks without phone calls, sleepless nights, fear, danger, and that other 'D' word we don't talk about. It was about War. My husband was at War. I always will have 'what-if' moments about all of this. I will always wonder if I should have done things differently. It isn't rocket science that two incomes are better then one. However, I've been blessed and rewarded with the opportunity to witness all of Olivia's FIRSTS, teach her, watch her grow, and sit on the floor with her and just PLAY. We get to play all day. I'm lucky like that.

I am forever grateful for what my Mom has done for me. Three days after I had O, BW left for a few days. My Mom came to help. These were unbelievable moments, and I am so grateful to of had them. She never wanted to step on my toes, she simply wanted to just 'be there.' She never wanted to impose, but always had her bags packed in case I needed her to stay. She never said she was tired; she let me sleep in. She never complained about late night feedings; she did them all. I would call her, and simply not have the words to speak, but the crying in the background would tell her to get in her car. I am forever thankful for the solo trips to Target, the worry-free showers, and the opportunities to just breathe. She has taught me so much, guided me every step of the way and has given me the confidence to be the best Mom I can be.

I get very emotional as I begin to think about the time Olivia has had with my Dad. Those two had a rocky start. As I've said before, Olivia is sensitive to male voices, and her Poppy's was no exception. It took weeks for her to warm up to him. Their relationship makes my heart explode. It's like taking a glimpse into my childhood. The way he makes her laugh, the goofy things he does, the love in his eyes... I know all those things. I had all those things too. I asked him one night if being a grandparent is everything he imagined, "It's better. It's more then I could have ever imagined." He will take it the hardest when we leave. I can't even begin to think of what his tears will do to me. Their relationship is special. She loves her 'pa pa' ...and that pony he's going to buy her.

I have bittersweet feelings about going back. By being here, at my parents, I've been able to escape some of the reality of the situation. My room here is only full of a few suitcases full of stuff. Even when BW had given me some of his stuff  in El Paso, I shipped that stuff home ASAP. I really didn't want any of his stuff here. It made things easier. Before I left our house I made sure all of his stuff was put away. I didn't want anything hanging around. Nothing. Nada. Now its time to face that stuff  head on. I want Olivia to go play in his closet (don't ask), I want to display our photos, I want to watch cartoons with O in Mommy and Daddy's room, and I want her to REALLY know and feel that he is coming home.

I am not allowed to give specific dates but I spoke to BW today and he ended our conversation by saying, "See you in X Months!".... for the first time since he left, I had goosebumps. The good kind. We are so close. SO CLOSE.

Birth Story

My Dearest Olivia,

I am writing you this story on your very FIRST birthday. It is the birth story of Olivia Winter.

A few days prior to that day, at my 40 week appointment, the doctor noted no progress.I guess you weren't coming early. I already had my bags packed and they had been packed for weeks. I unpacked and repacked 10 times making sure you had all the right matching hair bows, booties, and blankies. I made sure your baby book was tucked away in my bag so I would remember to get your footprints stamped! The doctor told me that she would think about inducing, and would call me if she could schedule me in. It hadn't been 10 minutes after your Daddy and I got in the car that we received a call back. We had a date set! We were going to start the eviction induction process on Friday! Your Dad and I were so excited we called family with the news. We were going to meet you in just TWO days!

By this point, I worked from home and was able to get things ready all day. And by 'get things ready' I mean pack your Daddy's bag. Why doesn't anyone mention this part? Do people assume your husband, baby daddy, doesn't need clean clothes or toiletries? Or maybe it's assumed he doesn't stay the whole visit. Well, this Mama was on top of it!...and I was quite sure he wouldn't be leaving my side. When Friday came around with much anticipation, your Daddy came home from work to pick me up. Sydney's bag was packed, and she was ready for Grandpa to come pick her up for a few days. Mama was emotional about this because I knew that when Sydney came back home her world would be flipped upside down. We met your Mimi, Poppie, Aunt and Uncle out for the 'last supper.' The doctor told me to eat something good, because it was not known when I'd be able to eat again. I hope you enjoyed those crab cakes. I tried to hide the painful contractions I was having all through dinner. Olivia, I think you were going to come on your own anyway. If you're anything like your mama, you don't like being told what to do. .

There were a lot of tears on our drive to the hospital. I was scared, nervous, anxious, and realizing then & there it was our last car ride as just Daddy & I. As nervous as your Daddy may have been, he never let it show. Never. Ever. God love him for that. Throughout this entire pregnancy I was NEVER scared of the actual BIRTH part. I actually thought it was quite alarming at how NOT nervous I was.

We checked into the hospital at 7 pm. Thank god for pre- registration because I think by that point I wasn't even sure what my last name was. Daddy and I settled into the room. I was hooked up to an IV, and after the third stab, I was pretty convinced your Daddy was going to knock the nurse out and do it himself. Daddy laid down on the couch, we texted family with updates, and I flipped on the Jersey Shore. This lasted about 10 minutes, the clock read 8 pm and Daddy and I were admittedly bored. How long were we just going to sit here? Am I supposed to stare at the clock all night? The nurse came in and administered a drug to induce labor. UH OH, game on! About 15 minutes later the Doctor walked in and informed us that while the nurse administered the drug she did not feel your head. Oh. My. Lawd. She then wheeled in the ultrasound machine to get a look. Sure enough, sweet, stubborn lady of mine.. you were breech. Upside down! Let's rewind...three nights prior to this day I was up all night with horrible contractions. We believe this to be the night you flipped, dipped, and yeehawed yourself breech. Now, go figure, this exact moment the doctor confirms your whereabouts, I begin to have terrible, painful, holy crap, contractions. She said we could try to flip you, or go ahead with a c-section. Jersey Shore had ended. Daddy was bored. Giddy up, we're having a baby! Phone calls were made.

I never imagined this would have happened so fast. As they prepared the room for surgery, your Daddy got dressed in his scrubs, hat and mask. Guess what? Mama forgot to pack him shoes. Picture this- hospital garb & black dress shoes. Funny, right? He didn't think so. Anywho, they were wheeling me in to surgery and panic began to set in. I had googled, read, studied EVERYTHING about childbirth, EXCEPT c-sections. I have no idea why I glanced over this whole chapter, but I did, and I had no idea what was about to happen. As I sat in the hall waiting, and waiting, my contractions kicked up a notch. I wanted to slap your Daddy, kick a nurse and throw something at a window. There are NO words, and NOTHING to describe what this feels like. Nada. I give a lot of kudos to women who have a natural childbirth, but I lasted about an hour and thought my life was ending.

I am so very thankful for all of the nurses by my side at that moment. It was like having 10 Moms in the room, when you can't have your own. Your Daddy stayed by my side at every moment. He snuck a few peeks at what was going on (which is gross by the way), and snapped a few photos (which is even grosser by the way). We waited...and waited... and finally, out you came on January 26, 2012 at 11:21 pm. I yelled from behind the curtain, "Is it a girl? Is it? Is it?" They confirmed that it was true, all 7 lbs 12 ounces of you was a girl, who gracefully peed and pooped on her way out. It took a few back slaps to get your breathing regulated. You were soon bundled up and handed over to Daddy who showed me your sweet face. Whoaaaah, back it up! All that work and you look EXACTLY like your Dad. Pfft! Your Daddy was wearing a mask, but his eyes were red, and watery. Those are tears, sweet Olivia, Daddy tears. Few and far between, so these moments are EXTRA special. They whisked you off for your bubble bath, and some testing. Daddy scurried right behind. I knew you were in good hands.

The recovery process for me was a long one. I waited nearly 3 hours before I was able to see you again. The. Longest.3 Hours. Ever. When I was finally brought back to my room, you were brought in right behind. There is no sense of time in a hospital. Midnight quickly became 3 am, and 3 am quickly became 8 am. Nurses were always in and out, poking this and pinching that. A lot of the next few hours, and even days were a blur to me, my little princess; for some reasons I can explain, and for others I can not. As I laid in the hospital bed your Daddy slipped a bracelet around my wrist, and held up a page in your baby book with two little ink-stamped footprints. He remembered. At that moment, my eyes filled with tears for the first time. He was my knight and shining armor that day...and you were my itty bitty princess.

Love,
Mommy

Dear Olivia

My Sweet Olivia,

I can not believe you are ONE year old this month. Where has the time gone? I swore I'd never be one of those Moms who said that because I was always secretly hoping you'd grow up real fast and start changing your own diapers. Did I ever tell you that you'll ONLY poop in a clean diaper? What's up with that? Your OCD tendencies are already making their debut, just like Daddy. I am writing you this letter to tell you about yourself, in case I forget with old age, and to show you how much we've overcome...together.

When Daddy and I first brought you home I cried a lot. You cried a lot. I couldn't figure you out. Google couldn't figure you out.I didn't think I could do this. I was certain I was NEVER doing this again. Ever. We had a hard first 6 weeks; the actual SIXTH week being the most mind blowing, challenging thing thus far. Baths started to soothe you at this point, along with the 5 S's. This was a technique I secretly researched then told Daddy I was the baby whisperer, and wasn't willing to share their meanings. We swung you, dangled you, bounced you, sang to you, fed you, gas dropped you, swaddled you, strangled you, etc etc etc. You. Were. Not. Happy. I desperately needed you to have a personality, something I could connect with. I blamed myself a lot. I blamed the caffeine I drank. I blamed my high strung personality. I blamed Daddy's loud voice. Whatever I could blame, I blamed. Sometimes I cried on your nursery floor. I was angry. Angry that I couldn't make you happy and angry that I was doing this alone. You hated riding in the car, which meant I never left the house. I resorted to using an AM station as 'white noise' which eventually would lead to you falling asleep. Which would eventually lead to you springing awake at the sound of the car doors unlocking. *sigh* You enjoyed your 'white noise', and still do now. One particular day sticks out in my mind when we were driving home from a friends and you were screaming so bad in the backseat that I had to call Mimi and ask if a baby could die from screaming too much. You. Were. Not. Happy.

Things started to get insane again around your 3 month birthday. Daddy and I had a lot of military events to attend and a lot of running around to do. This is about the time you learned how to scream. And scream. It wasn't until halfway thru this month of rage that we saw them, two little teeth poking thru. How could we be so stupid? OF COURSE our three month old baby had teeth! Why wouldn't she? She could hold her neck up from day one, and could stand on her entire body weight at 2 months. Soon after those 2 teeth, came 2 more...and 2 more...By 5 months old you had EIGHT teeth! The screaming subsided the day Daddy left.

Right after you turned 5 months old we came to live with Mimi and Poppy while Daddy went away to war. There are not enough 'Thank-You's' in the world for what they've done for us, but that's a separate letter.

As I reflect on this entire year, and the little girl you've grown to be, I start to get emotional. The little personality that shines through your face is breath taking. You look just like your Daddy, but the way you smile and scrunch up your nose is like looking in a mirror. Just like myself,you smile with your eyes. You snort when you're scared, nervous, or excited. You think frogs are hysterical and you shriek whenever you see a dog. However, you haven't really noticed that you have your own dog. You point at everything saying 'mmmmm?', wanting to know what everything is. I find myself saying 'dog' and 'bird' around a thousand times a day. You love Disney Junior, especially those weird singing pirates. Tubby time has always been your favorite. It used to be used to calm you during fussy times, but now it has the opposite effect. You love your after bath time of reading books and dancing around. You are attached to your 'blankie', which unfortunately is an 8 lb fleece blanket that is a hazard to your walking skills. You were wrapped in this blanket the moment you were born. You will sign "more". You all of a sudden love pacifiers, but most of the time they are in your mouth upside down. You can find your nose and toes. You've figured out how to feed the dog. You hate being spoon fed. You like car rides, as long as you are fully equipped with snacks. You give kisses, high fives and we are working on hugs. You like your night-night time; no later then 7:30! You have molars. Those were fun. You love Mac & Cheese, but hopefully that changes soon because I can't STAND having to eat your leftovers. You love books. Watching you flip through your books is one of the most precious moments of my day, and you can actually identify (by pointing) to several objects in your books. You don't do too much talking but call me "Mom." Which is totally normal!?! You say Dada, mehmeh (Mimi), Papa (Poppy), kk (book), quack,bye and baba. You have taken a few steps but still aren't too sure. You are an absolute joy Olivia. You make my heart melt. You make me laugh. You make me feel like I'm doing it. Like WE are doing it. We've come a long way.

We've had to do a lot of this alone, just the two of us. We made it through the toughest times just the two of us. We've conquered a lot of firsts together. A lot of things I was terrified of doing alone. We need to make him proud Olivia. I am writing this letter to you for your first birthday but I am writing it for another reason as well. For your Daddy. I want him to know you. I want him to know all about you. I don't want him to feel like he's missed a beat. He's your Daddy; You're his little girl. My heart explodes at the thought of the bond you two have, just because you're his little girl. Let's make him proud. I want you to show him everything you've learned this year, show him everything you are. He deserves to see everything I see. He deserves to feel your soft kisses. He deserves to feel the touch of your little fingers. We have a few more months to learn and grow before we see him; before we welcome him back into our day. I want you to put one foot in front of the other and greet him. Hug him. Show him you love him. Because you know what boo? That exact moment is what Mommy thinks about to get her through each day; it's what puts one foot in front of the other. It keeps her going. We are going to make him proud. Just as proud as he's made us.

Happy FIRST Birthday my beautiful Olivia Winter. You are Mommy and Daddy's angel, and the prettiest girl I know.

Winter Song.

January 17th 2012. Olivia's due date. Why do doctors even give you a due date? To make you nutso, that's why. We spend our entire pregnancy looking at that circled date on our calendar thinking that's the EXACT day we should expect a baby in our arms and when it doesn't happen that way we rely on Google to give us 674 ways to induce labor. I drank raspberry tea until my eyes turned red, all while WALKING 5 miles to the nearest Mexican restaurant. Aside from being sure that Miss O was a boy, I was also sure that she was going to be early. Like before Christmas, early. Why I thought this I'm not sure. My doctor appointments would last no more then 3 minutes because there never was any progress, and they never even mentioned feeling a head. But still, she was coming early. *For those of you who have missed it, she is a GIRL and was born on January 26th.

Towards the end of your pregnancy they stress the importance of feeling the baby move. This is something else to get ya all jazzed up about (like worrying about an 11th toe isn't enough). Is she moving? Did she move at all today? What's going on? We live in constant fear as pregnant women, and it's a fear that never goes away. We worry about our kids until we're dead. Our motherly instinct kicks in as soon as those two lines turn pink. However, when my two lines turned pink I went to go "run it off." Motherly instincts can wait. There were some days that Olivia wouldn't move very much. BW would often ask throughout the day if she was moving, and if I could feel her. Sometimes I'd lie and say I did, when in fact I hadn't felt a single thing in hours. Other times I'd tell him there were no movements and we'd scurry into the bedroom where I'd lie down as still as I could and wait. BW would sometimes sing to her, we'd play her music, or I'd bang on my stomach (yes, you read that right). Then being the diva that she is was, she'd kick...I'm pretty sure she was telling BW to cut the crap, he's no Michael Buble.

When Winter came around I obsessively asked BW to play Christmas music. Miss O loved Christmas music. This soon became my 'go-to' tactic to get her moving. She'd be dancing, and singing all day and night. I knew that the following Christmas Olivia and I would be missing something.Things were going to be hard. They were going to be different. Olivia wouldn't really know any different, but I would. While listening to our music one morning, we found something special; something that was ours. Her and I listened to it a lot. The words weighed heavy on my heart. We listened to it while he was at work. We listened to it while we laid in bed. We listened to it while he was away.Winter Song by Ingrid Michaelson. I cried....and she danced.

BW and I had Olivia's middle name picked out just as soon as we agreed on her first name. We wanted to take the traditional route and give her a family name. But unexpectedly came the days and nights of dancing and singing; and it felt right.These moments warmed my heart. They made me feel as though we would be okay. She was telling me that the next Christmas, when Daddy is gone, that we'd be singing and dancing too. I decided on one of those nights that her name would be Olivia Winter. Want to know the part that still, now, brings me to tears? He never questioned it. Never wanted to know the reason. Never asked which ridiculous gossip magazine I was reading. I think the certainty behind my decision said enough.

I started looking at the holidays a little differently this year. Each holiday we made it through, survived, crossed off the calendar, was one step closer. When we celebrated last year I took in each moment, devoured into each memory, and held my breath hoping we'd celebrate many more. I hate to wish for time to fly as Olivia celebrates her first Halloween, Thanksgiving, and now Christmas. Nobody WISHES their baby's first birthday to come faster then it should, but I do. This crazy thinking is the only thing pushing me forward. I promise to Olivia that we will make each and every holiday magical for her. This year we just have a little part of US that's missing.

When this deployment started, I told myself, "I just have to make it through the holidays. Then it will all be a DOWNHILL slope." Christmas is 3 days away. I'll go dust off my sled.

Weeee!!!

One.

There are a lot of things people don't tell you when you have a baby. You understand the obvious; your table for 2 is now a table for 3, you are never going to sleep again, and Friday night takes on a whole new meaning. A few things that Google doesn't tell you is that taking a shower is now a luxury (hell, if you even have time to loofah your ENTIRE body then you're having a good day), you will wear jeans from 4 season's ago while your infant child is wearing the latest trend from Baby Gap, "Nap when they nap" is a phrase that will send you into a wild tailspin of emotions and you might even headbutt the person who spewed said these insightful words. The biggest, hardest, most mind blowing thing to understand after you have a baby is how it will change your marriage or relationship. Did I say change? I actually mean test, destroy, F with, and basically have you contemplating a quick stop at your attorney's office on your way home from Target. No one tells you this.

I had a quick maternity leave, a whole 6 weeks. And every day of those 6 weeks I was on the phone with someone asking, "Is this normal?", "Are you sure this is okay?" And by THIS, I mean wanting to strangle the living daylights out of BW. The lack of sleep was just pure insanity, and the power struggle was frightening. I will not sugarcoat the first few weeks of Olivia's life. We struggled. We argued. We cried. We slammed doors. I couldn't believe what was unraveling. Not even the best Mothers in the world should have to do this alone. This is hands down a two person job. But at one point, I believed that doing it alone might have been easier. It might have been less stressful. There would be no right or wrong; there would be no arguments. However, as I live each day without him by my side, with no one to challenge me, and no one to argue with, I've been blessed with a little perspective.

When he insisted on consoling her when she was teething, it was because he'd never see her first tooth. When he told me he wanted to take her out for the day despite my uneasiness, it was because it would be over a year before he could do it again. When he laid her on her belly right after she ate, it was because he'd never see her crawl. When he woke her up late at night after drill weekend, it's because he'd never again be able to hold her without waking her. When he sat for endless hours googling 'nonsense', it's because for the next year I'd be the one googling. When he insisted the Science Channel was good for her, it was because he'd never get to see her first dance to Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. When he strapped her to his chest to play video games, its because he knew I needed a break. When he worked late, it was so Olivia could wear those Gap jeans. When he argued that her newborn legs could hold her up, it was because he'd never see her first steps. When he insisted on untwisting her car seat harness even when we were running late, it's because it was his chance to keep her safe. When he held her too tight while in his uniform, it was because that will be her closest memory. When he spoke too loud during bath time, it was because she needs to remember his voice. When he told me to trust him, it was because he knew what he was doing.

Today,as I listened to a woman complain to her friend about how her husband had to work on Thanksgiving, I looked over at Olivia. She was standing. She was standing all by herself. Not holding on to anything; not leaning her little belly to maintain her balance. As these women bla bla bla complain about their husband's absence I look over at my little girl achieving a milestone; this is something that can't be microwaved, it can't be put in the fridge, and can't be served as leftovers. These are the things my husband is missing. I can't put these things on hold, and we don't get do-overs. There is ONE first step, there is ONE first word, and there is ONE first birthday. Be thankful that your husband was home at all that day. Because you know what? Mine was not here yesterday, today, or tomorrow.

For every 50 Thanksgivings, Christmases, Birthdays and New Years, there is a celebration that only comes around once. Tomorrow we celebrate our first wedding anniversary, 8000 miles apart.