And then came Henry...

My first child, Jackson, was the "perfect" baby.   He was an excellent sleeper, he breezed through teething, and follows instructions as well as an adult.   We never even had to childproof our home.

And then came Henry. 

 Henry was born almost six weeks premature.  His lungs were not fully developed, so he had to be sent to the NICU, immediately after birth.  In recovery from an emergency c-section, I could not see him right away.   My mom was able to take a peek at him, while the nurses took his vitals.   Henry used what use he had of his lungs to scream angrily each time a nurse touched him. "He'll be fine," my mom assured me, "He's mean... he's definitely a survivor."

She was right.  Eight days later, Henry came home from the NICU, as good as new... and just as mean.  It was as if he held a grudge against everyone for the extended hospital stay.  He did not like having company and he preferred to sleep either in my arms or right next to me in our bed.  He hated baths and it was a chore just to get him to laugh.

Henry began walking at fourteen months and my life and my house will never be the same.  He pulls leaves off of my plants, has torn two tablecloths, and has broken six of my dishes.   He eats crayons, dirt, and the occasional rubber band.  Now, at two years old, Henry has developed a more pleasant disposition, but we have dubbed him, "Houdini."   He can escape any gate, break childproofed locks, and can scale our furniture with the agility of a monkey.   There is never a moment's peace, unless he's napping. My husband has accused me of having a secret rendezvous with the Tasmanian Devil, resulting in Henry's conception.

You would think that after having a "perfect" child the first time around, I would be overwhelmed to have such an active little boy. Yes, I am overwhelmed.  I am overwhelmed with joy to have this little monster, who leaves banana hand prints on my clothes, gives me snotty kisses, and giggles sweetly as I rock him to sleep.

When Jackson was eight weeks old, he began sleeping through the night. When Henry was eight weeks old, we discovered that he has a congenital heart defect, pulmonary valvular stenosis. We take him to a pediatric cardiologist at Johns Hopkins every six months. We await the appointment at which they tell us that it is time for surgery. As Henry grows, the pressure in his heart will become too much for his pulmonary valve to handle.  When that day comes, he will need to receive a replacement valve. Since he is so young, it is difficult to tell how many surgeries he will have to have or if they will be successful. It may mean limited activities or sports. Although his heart condition may not be life threatening, other factors with Henry's health make his future uncertain.   We will know that his heart is beginning to not function properly when his activity and energy levels start to decline.

So, when I exercise patience as he jumps on the couch or throws a rock and breaks a window, don't judge me. And when he runs from me, holding an important piece of my mail or flushes my favorite bracelet down the toilet, don't accuse him of being a "bad boy." His daily antics only prove to me that his little heart is beating as it should and reminds me of how precious life is.

Henry has filled my world with adventure, taught me patience, and has given me an appreciation of every breath my children take. Yes, Jackson, my first born, was an angel.  But then came Henry, who made our family complete.

An introduction...

I was financially independent when I got married in 2004.  I was the manager of a successful salon. I worked long hours. I matched my husband in income. And I loved every minute of it.  I have always considered myself a feminist and intended to stay that way.  My co-workers and I found it amusing to make fun of stay-at-home moms who wore Christmas sweaters and held Longaberger parties on weekends.  That did not change after I had my son, Jackson, in August of 2005.  Before I gave birth I had already arranged to have my aunt babysit in my home, so that I could continue to work full time.  I loved my son, but I also loved my pre-baby lifestyle.  And to be honest, it did not change.  I went from working 50 hour weeks to 40 hour weeks, but other than that I was determined to not have my life be altered just because I had a baby.  My situation was great.  My aunt adored my son.  I came home every night, and he was already bathed, fed, and ready for bed.  I'd spend a few hours with him, while juggling any household affairs that needed tending.  I'd rock him to sleep (unless I was too tired, in which case my husband would) and then relax for the evening.  Money was rolling in, I had maintained my independence, and someone else handled the hassles of motherhood for me.

All of that changed when Jackson turned a year old.  Around that time, he started to walk and talk and he could express his opinions clearly.  And his opinion was, he didn't want "Mommy;" he wanted my aunt.  At first I thought it was normal, but it didn't take long before it started to bother me.... REALLY bother me.  I cut my work hours back and tried to make myself more available to him.  However, just as I had gotten used to my lifestyle, he had gotten used to his.  After a bit of soul searching, I found the perfect solution. My background was education, and there was a child care facility across the street from my house.  I thought, "I can continue to work, but have Jackson by my side everyday."  So I quit my job at the salon, and Jackson and I started at Kindercare Learning Center in April of 2007.  It was great.  Jackson and I became closer, I loved my job, and I didn't have to work as many late nights.  But that didn't last long.

Four months after I started working at Kindercare, I received a promotion to Assistant Director.  I went from supervising my son's room to working in the front office.  Working limited hours turned into working double shifts and late nights.  I had done it again.  I had put my own ambitions over the needs of my son.

Jackson started getting sick about two weeks after I started at the day care.  He had fevers and was vomiting frequently.  At one point, he was admitted to the hospital for four days for dehydration and was back in the ER the day after he was discharged.  I missed a lot of work to stay with him.  By the time my promotion came, he seemed to be improving.  He was having only a few bouts of vomiting a month.  Then he took a bad turn, vomiting daily.  The doctors kept telling us that he just had a "weak stomach."  We finally decided to switch pediatricians.  Our new pediatrician called to our attention the fact that Jack had gone from the 75th percentile in height and weight to the 5th percentile in both, in just six months.  The vomiting had had that much of an effect on him.  They ran every test possible on him, screening him for everything from hydrocephalus to cancer.  I went into my work and told them I would not be back until he was better. I needed to be home.  It took three weeks for all of the tests to be done and for us to get the results.

In those three weeks, something happened.  I became a mother.  I snuggled with Jackson on the couch, while we watched Scooby-Doo.  I gave him baths in the middle of the day, just for fun.  I made dinner for the three of us and we sat down and ate together each night.  And then, something else happened.  Jackson started getting better.  During that time, he had no vomiting spells, he talked more, and slowly the little chubby rolls on his arms and legs began to reappear.  I looked around at my life and the truth hit me hard.  My husband and I lived in a world of plasma screen TVs, Sephora products, and drive thru dinners.  We had never settled into family life.  Jackson was diagnosed with cyclic vomiting syndrome and reflux in October of 2007.  CVS is a rare condition affecting children whose mothers suffer from migraines. (I've had them since I was ten.)  It is often anxiety related.  Jackson's trigger was having to spend so much time away from me.  It's a hard pill to swallow to hear that your two year old has anxiety issues.  So for me, there was no doubt as to what needed to be done.

I quit working in October 2007.  For the last two and a half years, I have been a full time mom to Jackson and his brother, Henry, who was born February 2008.  Both of our boys have multiple health issues relating to Noonan Syndrome, a genetic condition that all three of us have (more about that later).  Even with the added medical expenses, I still stand by the fact that staying home was the best decision I have ever made.  Each day is a struggle, especially in this economy.  However, there is a home cooked meal on the table every night, the house is in order, and most importantly, I am the one who kisses the boys' boo-boos when they fall.  Although we have had to sacrifice, we are so happy. My husband no longer comes home from an hour commute for me to plead with him to go back out to pick up something to eat.  My focus has changed from myself to my family.  It feels wonderful to no longer feel the need to keep up with the Joneses.  I know that I am here for my boys, whenever they need me.  There is no doubt - I am their mother.

I never thought in a million years that I would enjoy being a stay at home mom, but I think I have found my calling.  However, a few things haven't changed.  I do not own a Christmas sweater and even with my free time, I still turn down invitations to Longaberger parties.

Dinner on the table at 6:00 is one thing, but even I have my limits!