Hello! Opportunity Is Here Knocking!

The sure way to miss success is to miss the opportunity. Victor Chasles

Write about the best opportunity you’ve been given and how you made the most of that opportunity.

The best opportunity I have been given was services with Missouri Vocational Rehabilitation. Voc rehab is a program run through the state department of education, and it is one that is meant to help people with disabilities live and work independently.

In the early days after the car accident and coma, when I was in rehab for head injury, I was offered the chance to apply for assistance through that program. At the time, though, I was so scared of being “damaged,” that I didn’t even want to acknowledge what was going on with me. I was fine. It was fine. I could handle it. Just let me get back to school and it’ll be fine. That was my mindset.

Acceptance was hard to come by.

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Get Thee Behind Me, Jealousy!

singlemom_1

It’s time for a Tell the Truth Tuesday, though a little more serious than the last one, about a lesson learned and hopefully not forgotten.

There was this mother up here I was jealous of. First of all, she’s hot – she looks great. She’s smart – a microbiologist and getting published in textbooks. She’s active, hiking and biking with her son all the time. But the real kicker was her son, who is a little younger than Wee One.

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Week One With A Baby – A Promise Kept

The Wee One came a little early; I’ll write about that part soon.

Week 1

When they pulled her out of me, I didn’t feel it.  I wasn’t really aware. When they offered to bring her over to me, I was ready, though. They opened up my shirt and put her small naked body on my bare chest, as I had asked. Her little hairs were wet and her eyes, which opened slightly, were dark blue. We looked at each other and I said, “Oh.” She closed her eyes and nestled down on me under the blanket that was covering us. Later, as they were moving us from the operating table to the rolling bed, it looked like the bright lights of the operating room were bothering her, and I wanted her to be as untrumatized as possible. I put my hand over her eyes to cover the lights and she nestled down again.

It was just us.

Daddy could see her, but it was just us. She was in a special ward for babies that had had a bit of trouble, not as intense as a NICU, but a little more than a regular nursery. The oxygen in her umbilical cord blood was low and they were afraid she’d suffered some trauma. I also had an episode that they originally thought was a seizure but later said was a reaction to the anesthesia. Cohiba was scared to death that he would lose both me and her.

That first shower was hard. Cohiba had to help me, and I was messy and embarrassed. I cried about it and was like, how are you going to be attracted to me now? He said, this is the good stuff. This is the real stuff.

The end of the hospital trip was hard.  Everything special put into place for her was gone. Well, not everything, but a lot. I left the hospital and went home, to put new special things into place.

I gave her her first bath at 6 days old, on 2.28. She didn’t like being naked, but I talked her through it and I think we were closer when it was finished.  My milk started to settle in, too, and she could eat more regularly from me. i love breast feeding her.

She is so beautiful and tiny, such good humor. Sleeps on me and with me so well. I think she’s starting to recognize me and trust me.

Even the smells i thought Id be grossed out by, I’m not. I love them. I love my belly. It’s all part of us. I love experiencing it all. Part of me is afraid of it going back to pre-pregnancy form. Away from the time that I had her with me always, growing and protecting her, when it was us.  Now it’s also her and Other People (although for her to be with Cohiba, that’s okay) (and also, I am horrible at sharing.  How am I going to teach her this?) The IV scar on my arm will disappear. I won’t feel the c-section sutures anymore, the feeling in my hands will come back. She’ll outgrow the newborn clothes she fits into right now, the ones I can look at and still see her in.

I love it and I hate it.

It’s hard to see the changes in her already and I miss the wonderment of the past week. How to accept change? As promised, I am sad, tired and overwhelmed, and I’m crazy about this child.

This completes one of the 51/51 challenges.

Art of Impermanence in Coffee

I was recently looking up other blogs about rituals and thinking about that, particularly concerning coffee or tea, and I heard a story on  National Public Radio (NPR) this morning that led me to something beautiful.  The story was on Japanese tea in the 15th century, and when I went to their website to see the story, I connected to another story about coffee art.

How could I drink of this cup?! (Source)

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