Words that Hurt....Words that Heal

I am often struck how thoughtless we can be as human beings. The classic rule of "Open mouth and insert foot" is something we are all guilty of at one time or another. Myself included. Strangers in their ignorance and niavete speak words that can sting. In most cases, their words are easily dismissed. However, a loved ones thoughtless words that unwittingly and unconciously hurt, leave lasting scars that take many years to heal.


One of the things that have I told people time and time again is how I really learned and understood who my friends were when I found out I was pregnant. I as said in previous posts, I rememberd how scared I was when I suspected, then confimed my pregnancy. I had many friends in my workplace, but there were only two that I felt comfortable with my secret in the beginning. And their collective reactions cemented forever in my heart why I valued their trust and friendship. When, I shared my impending parenthood with my friend Cindy, her first response was to ask how I was and then wholeheartedly offered her congratulations. The second, Annette, took a deep breath, and asked me how I felt and if I was happy. That took me a bit by surprise, but after a second, I could respond with "I'm going to be fine and yes, I was scared, but very happy." The two of them became the most protective mother bears and were my staunchest champions when I was feeling the pressure. I will forever be in their debt.

Still, it did amaze me that perfect strangers and aquaintances could say the most thoughtless and hurtful things. When coworkers from another part-time job found about about my pregnancy, they were more concerned about the parternity then how I was or felt. Another coworker upset that I didn't make a point coming in and sharing the news with her personally. Or the patient that I registered for the hospital when I was in my later months of pregnancy who was making idle chit chat with me. He asked me what I was hoping for as far as gender and I told him my standard answer "A healthy baby is all I want." He responded (and yes this is a direct quote) "Well I would sure hope for a boy, because they don't come home at 16 pregnant and ready to go on welfare" Because of course, the boy would bear no responsibility for the impregnation. Those type of comments could be maddening, but though they were not easily forgotten (obviously) they didnt' really effect me in the long haul. I could maybe get a little angry, but still shake my head and let it go.

I think the one thing that stayed with me for a very long time and took me a while to forgive was a comment made by my own sister. We were in Florida and at a very nice restaurant for dinner celebrating the news of her own pregnancy. We were trying to decide on our appetizers and as I didn't really care, I responded with "I don't care, I'm easy" With a laugh, she responded, "Well, that's obvious". Okay...... chalk it up to post partum hormones, and the baby blues, but that hurt. Was that what she really thought? My own sister. In my head, I could rationalize the tacky, but well meant joke. In my heart, I was so incredibly hurt, that if she said it, she thought it. I love my sister dearly, but that is something that always stayed with me. I know she has no idea how much that comment effected me. But a funny thing happened not too long ago. This same sister and I were discussing parenting and making observations. She said something that took me by surprise and though she didn't know it when she said it, healed a heart. She said she had been talking to a friend about a mutual aquaintance who was a single parent whose child has been, to put it mildly, a challenge and a terror. When the friend tried to excuse the parent, because they were a "single parent and what can you expect", my sister said told her that was no excuse. I was a single parent and have raised a child that is bright, articulate, and well adjusted. Lack of a spouse was no excuse for a hellion. I was so touched that she defended me and in doing that defended the decision to parent withouth a partner.

In a perfect world, we always say the right things. We never offend or hurt with words or deeds. In a perfect world, there is a happily married family with 2.7 child and there is no divorce, or death. In a perfect world, there is no war....you get the picture. But you know what I realized in all of that. Sometimes its that harsh or hurtful word that makes me grow and stand up for myself. That gives me the stubbornness to prove them wrong. Do I get defensive sometimes? Absolutely. Am I easily hurt? Yes, much more than people realize. Would I live it all over again.? Without a doubt, yes!

What keeps me going? My faith....My family....and those wonderful friends who I know care and will always support me.

A Month of Firsts

Christmas came and went and we were faced the long winter months. My sister and her husband lived in Northern Florida at the time and we had more family in the Florida Keys. We took the opportunity to escape the great white north. With my doctors blessing, we packed up and headed south. Babies are incredibly portable at that age. I’m definitely a person who likes to be on the go (as almost any of my friends can tell you) and I was pleasantly surprised that my son traveled so well. The only trouble we encountered was that because he so loved the ride (he slept through most of it), his days and nights were messed up once again. So I got very little sleep on the trip down because when the car stopped he was bright eyed and ready to be adored. Everyone else was exhausted, but he was ready to take on the world. After two very long days in the car we made it to my sister and her husbands. My Dad continued down to the Keys and my sister, mom, Alex, and I would follow after some much needed rest in Jacksonville. We took the baby and explored northern Florida. As expected, he was adored by the staff in my sister’s office. We took him to the beach and to St Augustine (the oldest city in the USA). Alex experienced many firsts. His first ‘buggy ride” was in the horse drawn carriage that took us on a tour of St Augustine. My mother and I went to “Marineland” and he got to see his first dolphins (ok, he was 9 weeks old, so if you ask him, the memory may be fuzzy).

My sister took some time off work and we headed further south. Three of my cousins lived in the Florida Keys on an island called Big Pine Key (home of the endangered key deer, for you trivial pursuit buffs). The weather was beautiful. We went to Key West and had our picture taken at the buoy that marks the most southern point of the US. We visited Hemingway House and saw the six toed cats (yes, I said six). They really do exist. Look it up on Google!

It was a great visit, but a little odd at times. One cousin and his wife had just become parents of twin girls almost exactly one month after Alex was born. Unfortunately one of the twins had colic. The poor thing was miserable. It made me count my blessings that I had such a happy and content baby. We had stayed at a different family member’s house, which was blessedly quieter. My many family member’s definitely doted on Alex, almost to the point that I felt a little abandoned. Indeed, if it had not been for the fact that I was breastfeeding, I don’t know that I would have even seen him very much during our time there.

I did have one scare while we were in the Keys. Or it seemed like a crisis at the time. As I have said earlier, Alex was breast fed. One evening, my sister and I had left to run an errand. Ever demanding, Alex got hungry. He was not about to wait for me to return to eat. So my mother decided to try the soy formula I had left in my diaper bag. It was what the hospital gave me when we were dismissed and had just never taken it out. With a little coaxing, he took it fine, but got very sick that night. He had never thrown up like that before. Once he settled down and went back to sleep, I sat in the living of my cousins at 1:00 am and cried. I have always been the kind of person that stays calm under crisis, but falls apart when it was all over. I had been so frightened. It made me wonder if I was cut out for this. But exhausted, I finally got back to sleep and the perspective was much better when I woke up

Eventually we headed back to Minnesota and our first adventure was over. Time to go back to the real world.

There is no such thing as Super Mom

As we started to adjust to a schedule, many things became very obvious. The level of exhaustion that you are subject to is not something anyone is ever ready for. It’s the same for all parents, but seemed even more apparent when you are doing it solo. And in my glorious naïveté, I was determined to break the mold of the single parent stereotype. I was going to be Super Mom. But, again as our God has a sense of humor, I remember one of the first evenings that I was put to the test

My son of possibly five weeks was have a particularly fussy night. He wasn’t hungry, he wasn’t wet, but he was DEFINITELY NOT HAPPY. So, I rocked and walked and bounced and rocked and walked….you get the picture. It’s amazing how you will try and try again the same thing and just pray it will work this time. And when you succumb to the tears, because you have nothing else, you want the one thing that every child wants no matter how old…..

You want your Mommy……..

Yes, I’m not ashamed to admit that at 9:00 at night I called my mother in tears because I had nothing else. And as any loving mother would do, she bundled herself up, started and warmed up her car (remember this is Minnesota and winter as well.) and drive the 12 miles from her house to my rescue. She found me on the sofa with my infant laying across my lap with his tummy on my knee cap and my hand supporting his head, bouncing him. My legs felt like jelly, but as long as I kept up the bouncing, he was not screaming. He wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t screaming. My mother took him we started again with everything I had tried. Lo and behold , he simultaneously let out a huge belch and soiled his diaper in the most foul way. He then promptly collapsed into an exhausted sleep and I didn’t hear a peep out of him all night.

I learned several important lessons last night.
1) There is no such thing as Supermom
2) Relax….
3) No matter how old you are, everyone needs their Mommy
4) Moms may know everything, but sometime only Grandma can fix it.

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.