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Posts Tagged ‘children’

It is June 11th once more – today is my son’s 29th birthday. The following is a re-post of the day of his (fast) birth… And today, during this time of grieving for his grandfather, it is a joy for me to celebrate the man who my son has become.  After putting himself through night school for 2 years, my son received his MBA shortly after my father passed.  Not only do I celebrate my father’s life – I also celebrate my son’s huge achievement and my excitement for him and his brilliant future.  My son is my family. And what a blessed family I have…

Here’s the post I wrote 4 years ago, HAPPY DAY OF BIRTH, SON:

For many years on his birthday, I’ve called my son at 10:08AM – the time he was born.   I get a kick out of being that kind of mom.   25 years ago I was only in labor for 3 hours.   (Yes, I said three hours.)  When we arrived at  the hospital and got on the elevator, the contractions were so intense that I had to awkwardly squat down on my knees for fear I might fall from the pain.  Some how I spoke through my agony as the elevator started to move, “Oh my God, this baby is ready to be born”, I gasped to my then husband.  The people riding on the elevator with me did not say a word as the doors opened when we arrived on the maternity floor.   A couple of people helped me up and off I waddled – on my way to give birth!  My son was over due, ready, and starting to be born while I was still in the labor room (I’ll spare you the details) and by the time they finally wheeled me into the delivery room, Tyler was on his way!  I noticed my doctor had not even arrived yet.   “Where’s my doctor?!!”  Needless to say, things were getting a little exciting during my speedy “FedEx” type of delivery and apparently I thought that was as good of a time as any to start screaming my head off.   No, not like a woman in labor, but, perhaps like a woman who was witnessing a murder or something.   At that exact moment, my doctor literally burst through the doors of the delivery room.  He held his cloth face mask over his nose and mouth with his hand as the untied strings hung freely and  touched his plaid shirt.  As he was holding the face mask in place, I noticed he had on a beautiful, big artistic silver turquoise ring with a matching watch and band.  Incredibly masculine.   I felt relieved at the sight of my cool and hip doctor and stopped screaming as I got back to business and continued to push.  To my dismay, my cool doctor started to scold me for screaming at the top of my lungs – he had heard me from down the hall.  “Geeze.  Well, where have you been?”  I said to him.   And then he started to explain how first babies usually don’t arrive so quickly while one of the nurses started tieing his face  mask on for him while another helped him with his scrubs while I was pushing and pushing and . . .  then  . . . . silence  . . .  “It’s a boy!”   More of that silence.   (But he is lavender?  Are they all like that? Lavender?)  More silence followed by my son’s father crying and barely getting the words out, “I knew it was going to be a boy!”  He looked at me and said, “Can I hold him first?”  I nodded my head, “yes”.

The silence that was getting my attention was that my son was not crying, he didn’t even peep.  Not a sound.  It made me feel uneasy, I mean, after all, he was lavender too.  I did not remember receiving a memo on lavender babies.  “Is he ok?”

“Yes!”

“Why isn’t he crying?  Isn’t he supposed to cry?”

“You know what?  I don’t think your son feels like crying.  He is just fine.  A fine, healthy baby boy.”  I’ll never forget my doctor’s words.

Quiet new son Tyler was being held by his grateful sobbing new daddy.

And that is pretty much how my baby boy has been for most of  his 25 years, incredibly mellow, cool, calm and collected.  Totally together during any kind of confusion, chaos or stress that life can bring.   He just has that kind of demeanor, along with an occasional  joyous loud laugh that makes anyone want to laugh along with him.

Yep, amazing to think he was born 25 years ago.   My son was born in 1985.  I got divorced – as well as sober – in 1987.  The odds were completely against me to make it on my own, let alone be a good sober mom.   No child deserves a drunk parent.  A drunk parent can change even the most mellow of kids.   There is no reason or excuse to be drunk, especially when there is a solution and a joyful way of life to be found.   It is always possible to find a solution, eventually.

My last drink was on August 1st, 1987.  My 30th birthday.  I was ready.

My blessings are abundant.

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Today I’m thankful to see my son has once more proven he has grown into a hard-working and responsible adult…

Today I’m thankful to see my father has taught me the importance of remaining youthful in spirit as well as attitude…

2013-08-10 pink rose from d

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. . . I’ve been thinking about the different ways to count and gather blessings. With so much emotional pain and physical pain in the world, I realized I needed a reminder of “Looking For Blessings”! . . .

it's a beautiful life. (if you like roller coasters!)

The only way I will find a blessing is when I first begin to look for a blessing.  Just like on every Easter morning when my big brother and I looked for the brightly colored Easter eggs.  We did not question that the Easter Bunny hid candy and eggs for us.  We knew in our hearts that we were surrounded by our treats and surprises even though we could not see them.  We were thrilled just to tightly hold our beautiful empty Easter baskets as we faithfully looked for our surprises.  I knew in my heart the colorfully dyed eggs were there, even though my Easter basket was empty.  I remember this feeling of joyful anticipation and faith that was deep inside of my happy heart.  I also knew in my heart, without a doubt, that if I just kept searching my living room and back yard that there would be many surprises and treats waiting just for me to…

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I wrote this post a year ago.  I love that it reminded me of the power of simplicity.  A good read as we count our blessings and remember once more what we are most thankful for . . .

(Please click on link.)

Looking For Blessings

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October 7th Is My Mom’s Birthday

My life has been quite full the last couple months.  I find this to be interesting because – simply put – my time is spent focusing 100% on managing and regaining my health.  I am slowly finding my way and finding a deeper level of what friendship means to me.  Or better yet, what friendships work for me while I build and discover a gentler life.

I woke up this morning as the sun was hitting the tops of the trees outside of my window.  And on this fine morning  I once more count my blessings, which always includes my mother too.  Today it’s not necessary to once more feeling compelled to describe & explain my physical pain & tears that over come me every single morning.  Because today my gratefulness, faith and joy is bigger and stronger than any part of my physical body.  My soul and spirit and belief covered everything else and only left lightness – joy in my heart.  I am eternally joyful and grateful that today my mother turns 82 years old!

Through God’s grace my mother and I both have endured and maintained long time sobriety.  A shocking amount of families literally suffer day in and day out from the disease of alcoholism.   Reluctantly,  as if it was a lifetime ago, I remember for years wishing my mom would just stop drinking. (and just stop smoking too!)  If only we could, “just”.  Not possible to “just” anything when it is a disease of the mind, body and spirit.  THEN when the miracle did happen – it was after I surrendered.  I quit just “wishing” and fell to my knees and started praying for her.  I let go.  I let it all go.  My pain was too great – I had to let go of my mother and her illness.  Sadly, she was out of my life for about two years – (not positive how long – it was so uncomfortable!)  my grieving and praying was bottomless and endless.  I went through a such a grieving period – I’m sorry – but my grieving was so painful that I wished she would just go ahead and die already from her alcoholism.  I had lived on eggshells for too long.  My feelings left me full of shame, guilt and good ol’ anger.  But during my grief period of letting her go and giving her to God – to my dismay – I started to notice and learn some things about myself and who I was as a person at that time in my life and how I come across in my communications.  My expectations.

I did not even notice that perhaps there was a reason of my own that I married and I was then divorcing my alcoholic husband.  I eventually saw that my own drinking was leading me to unhealthy levels.  (and I did not enjoy realizing that one)  And getting a babysitter for my baby boy so I could go out and “drink the right way” quickly stopped working for me.  Sheesh!  The hangovers – ouch.   It had to be a mistake!  Me?  An alcoholic too?  No, I don’t think so.  I must be wrong.  I have to be wrong!  My broken heart only could speak in unrealistic expectations of others.   I was so ignorant to the many levels of the complexity and heart ache of the disease of addiction to alcohol.   I was young – my son was a toddler.  Never before had I looked at my mother as a woman who lived with not knowing (and STILL not knowing) the demise of her son – my brother – he was  literally physically lost in the vast sea of alcoholism and drug addiction – the tide rising around him and the rip current bubbling out of control as it carried him far away to an unknown place on earth – or perhaps heaven – we do not know.  Could I function in day-to-day life if my son disappeared?  My God, my mother is brave.  She has courage that I have not ever had to tap into at such a level in motherhood. When my painful realizations and growth finally started to loosen their grip on my being – when my connection to my God grew more solid – when my own son was only 2 years old when I became sober myself in 1987 —  it was after all of that in October of 1988 when my mother called me. (No caller ID mind you.)  I was shocked and speechless when I heard my mother’s voice for the first time in forever and I heard her tell me she had 30 days sober.  Then she apologized to me.

Like giving birth to twins, God had struck us both sober.

All that matters is what is right in front of me – because that is how I survive myself some days.  And for today, what is in front of me is my mother’s birthday.  How cool is that?

Happy Birthday to you Mom.  I love you.  I’m glad that you were born.

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Today is my son’s 27th birthday. I love sharing the fun short story of when he was born on June 11th, 1985 at 10:08am in San Francisco, CA . Here it is:  HAPPY DAY OF BIRTH, SON!

What a blessing . . .

it's a beautiful life. (if you like roller coasters!)

For many years on his birthday, I’ve called my son at 10:08AM – the time he was born.   I get a kick out of being that kind of mom.   25 years ago I was only in labor for 3 hours.   (Yes, I said three hours.)  When we arrived at  the hospital and got on the elevator, the contractions were so intense that I had to awkwardly squat down on my knees for fear I might fall from the pain.  Some how I spoke through my agony as the elevator started to move, “Oh my God, this baby is ready to be born”, I gasped to my then husband.  The people riding on the elevator with me did not say a word as the doors opened when we arrived on the maternity floor.   A couple of people helped me up and off I waddled – on my way to give birth!  My son was over due, ready, and starting to be born while…

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Feeling blessed & joyful.  I’ll be seeing my son & his longtime girlfriend later today. I just read my 2011 Mother’s Day post from last year & felt compelled to share it again! Please click on link:   Sobriety Is Not For Wimps, Especially on Mother’s Day

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