Our first Christmas

As the days turned into weeks, my little man and I got into a rhythm. I survived the first few weeks of breast feeding and I hadn’t killed him yet. I wouldn't say we were on a schedule, but we were managing. Fortunately he was an incredibly healthy baby. I lived in fear of colic, or worse. I worked at the time in the admissions department of a hospital. I remember seeing some incredibly sick children come through our doors, and wondered what I would do if my child was born with or developed a serious illness. But I suppose that is no different that any other parents. I just had a front row view.

Our first Christmas was incredibly fun …..for me. My baby at 4 weeks, couldn’t do more than stare at the Christmas lights, but that didn’t stop me from wrapping gifts for him to put under the tree. Of course looking back, it was a little ridiculous. I mean, I had just wrapped them myself. But it was important for me to establish I think in my own mind, that we were a family, just the two of us, and this is what families do. And I must say, as silly as it was, it was fun to open all of those gifts.

Those First Days

That first full day in the hospital I got acquainted with my son. We would just sit and look at each other. And I am still of the opinion that my beautiful and brilliant child smiled even before we left the hospital. I always knew what I wanted to name my son. In hindsight, it was a good thing that I didn't have to fight it out with anyone. Both names were family names from my family. Alexander for my great great grandfather and Clinton is my father's and grandfather's middle name. I was also very intrigued in the meaning on names. Alexander is Greek and means "Defender of the people". Clinton is English and means "from the headlands" or "on a hill" So his name means "The Defender of the people from the headlands". Sounds regal, doesn't it?

I spend at least one extra day in the hospital because of my difficult delivery (I'll spare you the details. No one ever really wants to hear them). When we were dismissed, I didn't take him home as I had planned. We went to my parents home for a couple days. It was a little odd. Not in a bad way, but I remember feeling that though I needed the help in some ways, I just wanted to be home by myself to settle in. That first night with my parents was probably the worst. I was breast feeding and that wasn't going the greatest, I was stiff and sore and my stitches were already starting to hurt and because I wasn't home, I didn't get to sleep in my own bed, but on a little twin sized bed in my parents guest room. I was miserable. I didn't know which end hurt more. I can look back on the visual I can laugh, but it didn't seem very funny at the time.

Eventually we made it home. I remember being a little scared when my mom left, but I also remember shutting the door walking into the nursery were my son lay sleeping and thinking.... Ok, it's just you and me kid.......Now what

Pregnancy and Delivery

I loved being pregnant. I was blessed to suffer very little morning sickness (though the smell of vinegar still makes my sick to my stomach). My weight gain was perfect. If you would have read the classic book “What to expect when you’re expecting”, it could have been written about me. Other than those pesky 1 a.m. and 4 a.m. trips to the bathroom, there no complications. But I hesitate to call it routine or stereotypical. In retrospect, I think the reason the physical aspects of my pregnancy where to uneventful was because I was dealing with so many other emotional issues. You see, the world does tend to have a different view of the pregnant single woman. Top that off with the fact that my sister was also pregnant and it was a built in roller coaster. I’m the first to admit, it was hard not to resent her at times. She was the one to receive the congratulations from family. It was her that people wanted to have a shower for. Though I love my sister dearly and I don’t know what I would do with her both then and now, it put some pressure on. I remember so clearly the Memorial Day when my mother’s family routinely gathered for a picnic. I went through the entire day with not one word said, while my sister and her husband received the many congratulations. Most of the family knew and but didn’t know what to say. I wish I could say it didn’t hurt. But now as I look back I think that it was maybe a good thing. That I wasn’t ready and that I needed the time to toughen up.

Ok, I’ll amend my previous comment. I didn’t love being pregnant completely. By the time my due date rolled around I was ready to have this new life on the outside, not the inside. And as God has a sense of humor, I didn’t deliver my beautiful child until a full 16 days after my due date. And that was with the help of induction. I will say that the labor and delivery was the hardest thing I had ever done in my life up to that point. It was long and if I wouldn’t have been so exhausted by the end, I would have been terrified. But after over 14 hours of induced labor, I was just too tired. Then, there he was. 8lbs12oz of lungs it seemed. My mother, who acted as my labor coach commented 1st on the size of his feet and 2nd on his pointed head from being engaged for so long in the birth canal. I was so tired, that I could barely hold him. But he was here and I had done it.

I didn’t get to see him for much of that first night. By the time I got to my post partum room it was very late and given the events of the day, I fell immediately asleep. They brought him in bright and early the next morning and I just sat there and we looked at each other. He was perfect. He was what my family called a classic Strain baby. Ton’s of dark hair, blue eyes, and a miniature football players build. And a more than adequate set of lungs. That time in the hospital was a bit of a rebirth for me as well. Alexander Clinton Strain was here. I had become…….Al’s Mom……Denise

No.....I'm not.....ok, I am

I can remember so clearly when I found out I was pregnant. I was so terrified. What would everyone say, my parents, my sisters, friends and coworkers. This is not how it's supposed to be. You are supposed to be married, a good job, a house in the suburbs. Now what do I do? The world has come along way from my grandmother's and even my mothers day. But still, there is so many times a stigma that comes with a single woman being pregnant that is very definately a negative view. I'm guilty of it myself.

Strictly speaking, I'm pro-choice.. I feel every woman should make her own decision about what will effect her body and her life. We all must stand before our Lord on our judgement day to answer for our decisions. That being said, personally, I could never consider it. I was not a starry eyed teenager. In fact, I had celebrated my 24th birthday days before. But an unplanned pregnancy is not what I had in mind. I remember saying to friends much later that I know that God had a plan for me. I was having difficulties in my life and God, in his own way, gave me an opportunity(and many would say a second chance) to prove that my life was a worthy one. He gave me my son. God, in His ever so subtle way said....."I'm giving another shot...Don't blow it." Hopefully, I will have proven myself.

It's begun

When people suggested I should right my thoughts on single parenting, I never took it seriously. But, after enough encouragement here we go. Come along with me as I travel this journey.

Raising a child alone is not something I recommend for the faint hearted. Now looking back over 19 years, I think I'm ready to share tears, frustrations, triumphs, laughter, and most of all love over that time.

Come and share with me.