“With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.” ― William Shakespeare
To Our Son Cannon: You are loved, believed in, protected, and supported more than you could ever imagine. Why? Just for being you, no strings, no conditions, no stipulations. You and you alone will always be enough. It's been a bit since I sat down to write, and well, for good reason. A lot has changed in the past five months since I last posted an entry. Our son was born a few months ago, and he has changed our priorities and the amount of time and effort we have to dedicate to other things, and rightfully so. I am not sure if this post will be inspirational, helpful, or motivational for anyone in any way. In all honesty, it might serve as a dumping ground for some of the thoughts and feelings that have been sitting on my chest, spewed out onto the keys in a very “all over the place” manner. But it is real, and it's raw, much like I have found motherhood to be. My son was delivered via scheduled C-section. He was measuring quite large, and the doctors were growing concerned with his size and delivery as well as shoulder dystocia. Aka, they were concerned that he would be stuck in the birth canal, leading to an emergency c-section, or, as I was told, they could try to “gently break his clavicle to get him out.” I don't know about you, but I refuse to “gently” break a bone in my kid so I can have the “badge of honor” of a vaginal birth. I am not saying a vaginal birth isn't worth celebrating, but becoming a mom is hard in any fashion; none of it is ever easy. I am saying I would never allow my son to suffer so I could have bragging rights. I know some people don't view a C-section as “birth,” but I can assure you it is. When you are pulled into that room without your partner, practically naked, terrified, and surrounded by people who are just experiencing another day at work, just to be numbed, restrained, and cut into while you are awake, praying the whole time that you survive, it's not easy. Its birth. It's love. It's motherhood. Being that I was scheduled to have my son, unlike the birth experience where I always imagined some dramatic water breaking moment and scrambling to the hospital like in the movies, it was pretty simple. Call the doctor, schedule the appointment, prepare for surgery, walk in, and have a baby. Each way has its pros and cons, but it was nice to be able to know when he was coming. Although the night before he was born was worse than any night before Christmas or the first day of school that I ever had as a kid, or even the night before my wedding. The anticipation was insane. I was feeling so much excitement to meet my son, but also so much fear that both he and I would be okay the next day. I spent most of the night writing letters to my family members in the event that I didn't survive the next day. The morning of my son's birth, as we gathered the last-minute items to go to the hospital, I told my husband, “If I don't make it, both my will and my letters to my loved ones are on my Google Drive.” I told him I didn't want to ruin the mood of the day with my fear, but I never wanted to leave him unsure of what to do, and from then on, we just didn't talk about it. We drove to the hospital, and we had our son. Later that day, I asked him if he would want to read what I wrote to him the night before, and he said he never wanted to read the letter, and he still hasn’t. In fact, he was, until this moment, the only one who knew they were written. I have never seen that man look more terrified than when I was on the operating table and more relieved than when both our son and I were safe. I truly could not have done it without him, and I am grateful for him and love him even more every day. Preparing for a C-section was terrifying. I knew the risks were higher, I knew what was going to happen to me, I knew the recovery would be worse, and I walked into that room head held high and determined to leave it alive. I am very lucky. I had an incredible medical team who made the process so smooth for me that I am so happy I chose to do a C-section. Our son was born with the cord around his neck, and his head and shoulders measured more than 10 cm around, confirming he most likely would have been stuck and unable to breathe. Resulting in an emergency C-section anyway and a whole other litany of potential complications and risks. But we made the choice ahead of time, and it was the right one. God’s plan is always the best way. Postpartum was like nothing I had ever experienced. At the time, I just wanted the pain and sleepless nights to end. But now, as my son sleeps through the night and I feel just a tad more normal, I would be lying if I said I didn't miss it. I never thought I would miss that hospital room when I walked out of it. But as he continues to grow, learn, and change right before my very eyes, a part of me longs for the hours/days old baby who wailed and the parents who had no clue how to make it stop. It's hard to remember a place and time that we can never go back to. It feels like just yesterday, but also a lifetime ago. I love the person he is, and miss the person he was, and I am excited for the person he will be all at the same time. It's such a complicated feeling to describe, but I am sure that every parent out there can relate. I have always loved kids. From a very young age, I have always wanted to be a mom. I taught many children over the years, from my first Preschoolers I ever worked with in 2012 to the last class in 2018. I have babysat and nannied for countless families and kids. If you know my story, then you know I was a step-mother to a sweet girl as well for almost the first year of her life. I have always LOVED kids. After over a year of trying, I can honestly say there was a point when I was afraid I would never get to have one of my own and have the family I always dreamed of. Every child is a blessing, but in our eyes, our miracle baby takes the cake. When you struggle and almost lose hope for so long, the light at the end of the tunnel shines just a little brighter. To those out there in any form of fertility struggle, loss, or challenge, as it involves kids, trying to conceive, external pressures from people who have no idea what you are going through, or the unspeakable grief of losing a child, I see you. If you ever need someone to talk to, my door is always open. My heart is with you. As I become more of Morgan the person again and a little less of Morgan the mom, I am starting to do the things that I love to do. Dusting off the books, the crochet hooks, and most importantly, the laptop keys. I hope to get back into all things blog and writing because I miss it. As this is my 54th entry, one can assume I have a lot to say, and holding it all in for months, you can only imagine how full my head is. But it is not nearly as full as my heart or my arms are nowadays. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Love you more, Morgan Cannon’s Mom Check this out Corner: Baby Einstein's Free Spotify Playlist If you have kids or even if you don't, classical music is great for everyone. As said in the Disney Pixar Movie The Incredibles, “Who is ready for some neurological stimulation?”
“If the numbers we see in domestic violence were applied to terrorism or gang violence, the entire country would be up in arms, and it would be the lead story on the news every night." - Mark Green