Apr 15 2013

Like Mother, Like Daughter and Daughter

“You have to slow down and watch what you are doing,” the words escaped my mouth echoing from my own childhood. My mom would calmly and assertively interfere in careless actions or growing frustration with this statement. Now decades later with my own child it seems an automatic response, my mom’s words filtering through my mouth. When I first noticed this and other comments I have relayed to Parker, I couldn’t help to stop and think I am turning into my mom.

I know this thought evokes a comedic horror for many, the idea of resembling parents. For me, the thought of turning into my mom carried a chuckle in a different sense, there is no way I can live up to who my mom is. It would be a blessing if I could maintain a portion of her patience, an ounce of her generosity, or a sliver of her organization. I envy her diligence and work ethic while I have mastered procrastination – efficiency under pressure. She is the most dependable person you will encounter, and since she is a horrible liar you know you can trust exactly what she says she will do. There are so many incredible characteristics my mom emulates, it wouldn’t be a burden to be more like her. So I guess if I mimic some of her phrases, that’s just fine with me.

Nana & Parker

If I do my job right, decades from now, Parker won’t mind repeating my words either. These days she is constantly cracking me up with the things I tell her for encouragement or warning which get reflected back to me. Parker congratulates me with “Good job Mommy,” when I use the toilet. She cautions me to “Be careful Mommy,” when I am mopping and the floor it wet.

I so appreciate the statements from both my mom and my daughter. It’s a small reminder of the beautiful generations of women in my family, strong influences who have shaped who we are and how we think.

Apr 4 2013

Sentimentally Adorable

“Dressing her in ‘Little House on the Prairie’ again?” my husband remarked at the sight of our daughter dressed on Easter morning. Without clear intention to find this dress I stumbled upon it the night before in a box my mom had given to me. The box contains my three decade old baby book, a kindergarten t-shirt, a hideous beaded shirt friends signed at my 9th birthday party, and countless school and girl scout projects. The real treasures of the time capsule are the clothes my mom made for me when I was little including a lavender dress with white smocked pinafore. It may be slightly home on the prairie, still it is too sentimentally adorable not to have my daughter wear it too.

We had a family celebration on Saturday at my parent’s house where Parker wore a new, very cute, brightly colored, springy dress. Then Sunday our plan was to go back again for dinner with more family. Despite there being plenty of dresses to choose from in her closet; I opted to take it back to 1986 or 1886 depending on how you look at it. I knew no one else cared what she looked like on Easter and my mom would appreciate and love it.

Finally with spring weather arriving we were able to play out in the yard on Sunday morning. Her Easter basket from Nana contained some fun outdoor activities like bubbles and chalk. Parker also got her first glimpse of flying a kite, though with trees and power lines constricting the yard it wasn’t as entertaining as I remember from my childhood. She was delighted watching me run back and forth across the yard to get it up a few feet, and when it was her turn she was thoroughly disappointed when she didn’t get the same result. Perhaps another try in a park or open prairie would be worthwhile.

Out of curiosity…

Would you dress up your child in

something you wore at their age?

Mar 31 2013

Not Quite Ready To Grow Up

My Bye Bye Bye Baby post (here) may have been a little too premature to celebrate. I boosted about Parker’s progress in potty training, going without a pacifier and abandoning her crib all in one week. Turns out she is not exactly ready to shed her baby skin completely. Maybe it was too much too soon and once the thrill of it all was gone she decided growing up isn’t all it’s cracked up to be… At least I feel that way sometimes.

PJ did well in her toddler bed for several nights, maybe even a full week, with no problems. And amazingly she still called in the morning, from her room, to let me know she was up instead of charging through the door. Taking naps in the new bed became a challenge, as predicted, she petifully looked at me with her head tilted to the side reporting “I’m not tired mommy, I don’t want to take a nap.” Then as I told her she could just lay down for some quiet time then (hoping a change in the name might change her attitude), this frequently ignited a brief crockadile teared tantrum clearly insinuating the need for a nap. For days Parker was able to escape taking naps just for the simple fact of not being able to keep her horizontal long enough to doze off.

Eventually Parker began leaving her room in the morning too, discovering she could hop right into mommy and daddy’s bed when she wakes up. It was fun at first, a little bit of snuggle time before breakfast. Then morning after morning she came in earlier and earlier until our usually late sleeper was now rousing each morning at 6AM. Too tired to even calculate how we were going to curb this new behavior and determine who was going to have to adjust – her or us – then the night of doom happened.

The day was normal, the nighttime routine was normal, by all accounts she appeared healthy and content when I put her down to bed. Then two hours after she had been sound asleep she woke up crying. Daddy addressed her crying and she went back to sleep, two hours later the same thing only this time we had gone to bed and she met me at my bedside. The rest of the night was more up and down, screaming at my bedside and exhausting any idea of what could be wrong. It felt like I was back to having a newborn to care for again except this newborn sprung from bed and hopped into my face to let me know she wasn’t sleeping. We took her temperature, rocked, changed pull-ups, drank milk, laid in her bed, and tried for about an hour of the night to see if she would sleep in my bed. The night was a blur of activities, screaming, scattered sleep and no clear idea of why it was all happening.

The next day when she continued to plead for no nap she was not tired, I knew she had to be exhausted. Again, she was not cooperating with the need to stay in bed so I offered her the option of sleeping in her big girl bed or a pack and play. I offer her choices a lot of times to try to employ her to make the positive choice, she often chooses the other option to see if I will carry through with the consequence. So, out the pack and play came since the crib has been disassembled and stored away. The afternoon after the night of doom she slept a good nap in her pack and play. And since then the pack and play has remained set up in her room, next to her toddler bed and she continues to choose to sleep there for night time and naps.

Maybe it’s more comfortable to be enclosed? I don’t know why it’s her preference for now, as long as we don’t end up shipping the pack and play away to college later on I suppose we are okay.

Mar 26 2013

Dollhouse Foreshadowing

My sister and I spent endless hours playing with dollhouses when we were little, I’m talking NASA astronaut training hours. Our first dollhouse was constructed by my mom from a wooden craft kit. The four room house was decorated and redecorated by painting the interior, gluing felt for carpeting and paper on the walls. We bought furniture and accessories down to potted plants, tiny picture frames, dishes and tea cups. Later we planned to add to our dollhouse neighborhood and each bought our own craft kits for additional houses. My house, like many of my master-minded projects, never got completed. I lost the directions and the beginnings of a large three-story house remained untouched in my parent’s basement for nearly 20 years. Call it divine intervention interrupting either mom’s ~~hoarding~~ reservation in throwing things out or my inability to follow-through with projects; the remaining contents in the doll house kit got wet in a minor leak in their basement and the house was finally set out on the curb.

The clean up effort lead my mom and I to rediscovering the remaining dollhouses last week. I assumed at some point I would introduce my daughter to the houses, thinking maybe when she is a little older. Two years old is too young for the fragile old wood, it doesn’t light up or make sounds like other plastic houses she’s seen, and all of the itsy-bitsy accessories to keep track of is enough to cause me an aneurism. In a few years I figured she would love the houses. Then as quickly as the dollhouses were at table level and within reach, a childhood wave of sentiment rushed over me and I couldn’t wait for her to wake up from her nap to come and play.

My mom and I sorted through the miniature time capsule of our youth, cleaning up, dusting off and discarding what was broken or not worth keeping. My sister was mighty pleased, back in the day, to use some creative skill in making her own dollhouse furniture. Foam haphazardly covered in fabric as the bed would have been fit for a dollhouse equivalent to a crack house. There were a few surprises in the excavation of the houses which ironically seemed accurate in our lives today. My sister’s house was filled with pets, including two tigers. This spring she will be completing her vet tech degree and the journey to get her there was inspired by her time working with the tigers at Endangered Animal Rescue in Citra, Florida. (Click HERE for more on that story.) My sister plans to work with a zoo veterinary department and continue her passion with big cats.

The other foreshadowing shock from our childhood houses, we found a black family. In our suburban caucasian home I can’t remember or imagine why we had purchased a black family. Perhaps my sister and I needed a way to distinguish who’s dolls belonged to each other? Were we impatient with a store who ran out of white families? Could it be my sister and I wisely saw a value in increasing the diversity in our dollhouse community? Whatever the reasoning was back then it has long since been forgotten and I’m sure my twelve-year-old self would have never been able to know she would one day fall in love and marry a black man.

With the components freshly sanitized, small accessories stored away and rooms reconfigured the houses were ready. I barely withheld my desire to wake my daughter up to come and play… Finally she arose and joined us downstairs to get her first glimpse of the hand crafted childhood treasure. Parker jumped right into investigating the pieces of furniture, opening the refrigerator, rearranging the living room, and pointing out the bird-cage. She opened the toilet seat and promptly put the little girl on it, holding the “mommy doll” near by to applaud her when she finished. Dollhouses may predict the future and when a two-year old plays it replicates her present life with plenty of potty practice.

If you are interested in having your own fun with this creative and playful hobby you can find doll house kits online or at craft stores like Hobby Lobby or Jo Ann ETC. In the Kansas City area you can check out Mini Temptations at 3633 West 95th in Overland Park, KS for a greater variety of houses, decorations, furniture and accessories you can see first hand.

Mar 23 2013

Two words, out of the blue.

Behavior is lawful, I learned this phrase when I became an instructor for Positive Behavior Support. It has been a long time since I have taught the class, however this phrase always stays with me. In short it means no behavior is ‘out of the blue,’ as we sometimes describe actions of others. Any action an individual takes is a response to something whether we are aware of it or not, the trigger could be anything in the environment noticed by our senses, a reaction to another person’s behavior or behavior can stem from a thought.

There have been many occurrences, since by daughter began speaking regularly, where I would have been caught off guard by her simple communication. Sometimes it’s while I am driving the car with her behind me in the car seat sitting peacefully observing the scenes passing outside her window when I hear the two words in her sweet high-pitched voice, “Thank you,” she says. She is very polite expressing thanks to family, friends and strangers on a regular basis; it’s the times when there is no apparent prompt for the comment I am boggled by. The comment appears to come out of the blue, except I know behavior is lawful and it must have a purpose.

I’m so curious at the thoughts in her two-year-old mind which evoked this comment. She didn’t get anything, no compliment received or favor helped. Is she thanking me for the ride, praising me for being a safe driver? Is she as appreciative to get out of the house as I am? Was she just trying to start a conversation to break the silence and these are the words others respond to? And then my mind takes me to wondering if it’s simply a thank you for being, kids are present in a way we lose as life gets more complicated. They are not congested with the volume of thoughts, opinions, data and stresses we have in our adult minds.

Without having the words to provide an explanation, I am left to imagine. Her enduring two-word expression, when the environment is otherwise silent, has developed meaning for me even when I don’t know what it means from her. It’s a reminder to focus on the present, no moment is ordinary, I need to appreciate it all.

Jan 9 2013

Color Comparison

I know, I know… Don’t compare your child to others. This is advise and knowledge given to parents all the time to calm irrational thinking about a child’s health, developmental progress, intelligence, creativity, athleticism etc. I understand my child is only two and has years to learn and grow. She will have areas where she excels above other children her own age and there will be other areas she may be average or below. Believe me, with my history of obtaining “below average” scores on standardized tests, from personal experience I greatly value not comparing. However, there has to come a point when you might potentially learn something important, something missing or a major discrepancy between what is normal and what you see happening… Right?

Here’s my confession, I have been stressing for 6 months pushing colors on my baby. It all started last spring, months before her second birthday when we hosted a play group at our home. One little brainiac friend of hers only a month older, was easily naming colors when prompted by her mom. I figured I’d boost up my tutoring of colors and within the next 30 days and she would be right up to speed with her smarty pants friends.

30 days came and went, the whole hot summer went by, her second birthday came and went… This whole time adding to the list of other 2-year-olds accurately responding “red, blue, yellow” to the command of “name that color.” I coached with blocks, in the bathtub with toys and with crayons. I tried naming, matching, providing choices and asking yes or no.

Her complete and utter refusal to get involved in the process had me worried maybe she really couldn’t see what I was talking about. Of course she wouldn’t know which color I was talking about if all along she was seeing shades of gray. Really all I was accomplishing was torturing a colorblind child?

In December I had an opportunity to get together with my cousin, his wife and their big eyed, squeaky voiced nearly two and a half-year old princess. He relayed the same stress I was feeling and admitted play-Doh was the incentive for his daughter to identifying colors. reinvigorated with hope, and coincidentally a freshly purchased barrel of play-doh from Christmas – I was ready to get back to color training.

Parker practicing color with play-doh

The next week Parker was enthusiastic about her play-Doh, she appeared to be catching onto the idea of responding with the name of a color. I held up the yellow play-doh and asked “What color is this?”

“Lellow,” she said to receive applause and a congratulatory high-five. Testing again, I held up the blue container and again asked for the color. She paused before replying “Lellow.”

“No, try again PJ.” I said patiently.

“Lellow-ink?”

And so it turns out, she says yellow for everything. And as if yellow-pink were a color, this is always her second choice. Her other frequent responses to color related lessons are “I unno Mommy,” and when I tell her the color answer I was looking for “Oooooh, I see Mommy.”

Progress maybe, and yet nowhere near where many of her two-year old buddies are at with their art skills. Again, I know I shouldn’t compare, yet since we happened to be at the pediatrician earlier this week I went ahead and asked. Dr. Loeb reassured us not to worry about color blindness and typically kids don’t differentiate colors until around the age of 3. Whew, I guess I will give Parker another 8 months to study up!

Dec 31 2012

Cookie Monster

Parker disappeared from the family gathering in the living room. “Parker,” I hollered only to catch her out of the corner of my eye pulling herself up on the bar stool in the kitchen to reach the contents on the counter. She had been eyeing the tray of cookies and now with everyone distracted, her two year old independence was about to be rewarded.

I made it to her just in time to pull the tray out of her reach, though, since she gave it such a good effort I let her pick one out. She immediately choose a peanut butter blossom – the kind with a Hersey kiss in the middle. Parker goes for the chocolate first and eats the cookie second. After her treat we resumed activity with everyone else in the living room: playing with cousins, checking out new toys and clearing the debris of wrapping paper and boxes.

Later I was called back into the kitchen by my brother and my mom. Parker also joined and again pulled herself up on the bar stool to position herself next to her big cousins. They pointed out how 3 cookies were missing bites out of the top of the chocolate kiss and all knew who was likely responsible, my little cookie monster.

Parker reached for a sugar cookie and got one off the tray before Nana could intervene. “You need to ask mommy first Parker,” She told her in a loving Nana way. Parker looked right at me with her big brown eyes maybe thinking of asking permission.

Instead she said “Thank you Mommy.” And took a big bite of her cookie.

Scrapbooking design generated with Smilebox

Nov 28 2012

Bedtime Stories

Parker with Muno, one of two “Yo Gabba Gabba” characters she sleeps with every night.

Her second birthday was celebrated the first week of October, and we are oh so thankful for some shreds of baby we are hanging on to. Mainly sleeping in a crib. At some point parents have to make a decision about when the timing is right to make this transition to a big kid bed. Some kids, like my nephew (now 2 1/2) make this choice for their parents by making it impossible to secure them safely in a crib. Parker, on the other hand, has proudly called me in to her room saying “Look Mommy” as she got herself stuck straddling the railing with no where to go – and has not done it since.

In the last few weeks she has given me reason to hope she can stay in her crib until she goes off to college. I’d hate to think of all of the re-training of bedtime rules which will have to be implemented and reinforced when the time comes for her to begin sleeping in the toddler bed. Needless to say this might also trigger the end of nap-time, I just can’t imagine her staying mattress bound if toys are within sights and reach in her bedroom.

In the past few weeks there have been several nights of waking up after being asleep for a few hours. The first night I went in to find her baba (pacifier) and remind her it was bedtime. A few minutes later my husband gave the same thing a try. Finally for the third visit I returned and laid her back down reminding her it is time to sleep. As a final plea to get me to come back after her door was closed I could hear desperately “Mommy, peas, Foofa needs you.” As if her stuffed character resembling her beloved TV show cast could get me to come running back in. When this cry didn’t work she gave in to a good night’s sleep.

Last night my husband went in to check on Parker when he heard her calling several hours after she had gone to bed. “Wheremommyat,” she wanted to know.

“Going night night, PJ, it’s night night time.” He informed her. Only to be further interigated about the whereabouts of all the family pets to hear the same response. “Harper’s going night night, Macy’s going night night too. Everyone’s going night night Parker.”

He talked to her a bit more telling her he loves her and asking her if she loves him. Parker said “Yes,” and added, “Mommy loves me.” (insert the sound of my heart melting here.) I guess she really does hear me when I tell her these words on a daily basis.

Unfortunately it didn’t end with this for Parker, after Daddy left the room we continued to tune in on the monitor to hear various songs, pleading for us to come back and play, laughing at herself and the discouraged “ahh man” remarks when she was giving in to sleep. She sang “Be nice to everyone” from the TV show Yo Gabba Gabba and it sounded as if she was acting out “Ring Around The Rosey” while she sang it. The other song I remember hearing is her own version of a children’s song, though, rather than singing Thumbkin or Pointer, she fills in with mommy or daddy.

“Where is Mommy, Where is Mommy? Here I am, here I am. How are you today sir, very well I thank you. Run away, run away.” My ear is finely tuned to her language so I know what she is singing often by the melody more than the words.

Well, the new bed is due to arrive next month yet I don’t know how ready we will be to use it. Now is as good a time as any to give it a try. I’m just crossing my fingers she will stay in her big girl bed when she is feeling restless and wants to sing. And I don’t even want to consider what life will be like when she grows out of naps.

Jun 18 2012

The Ultimate Determination

I have a friend I met almost four years ago through a job. Carrie and I were hired within a month of each other and had an immediate connection. We’ve talked about our souls being connected in the past and I knew she came into my life to help fill in the gaps of my own inadequacies and I to help her in the same manner. We only worked together for about a year before some political drama and employment cuts ended up with her out of the job. The situation makes me cringe to even think about and I could easily go into a downward spiral of hatred considering what happened… So I will stop there and move on.

Our friendship continued although, our face to face contact became more dispersed. She and I talked about the possibility of a business venture since our personalities complimented each other so well. She is slightly older than I and sometimes it felt like she had a lifetime more life experiences. There were times I would smile and nod at her question “You know what I mean?” hoping she wouldn’t recognize I knew nothing before I could puzzle together some context clues. Carrie has a knack for getting her needs met, her southern drawl could reel anyone in and convince them of whatever she was requesting. Her dark curly hair is the kind most women would lay down big money to duplicate, and this is on the days she claims she didn’t have time to fix it her own way. She has warm brown eyes, a bright smile, rounded face and naturally tan skin. Carrie’s outward beauty barely begins to exude the beauty within, as she has worked her life serving others. Her career has involved advocating for those who cannot do it for themselves, and she is exactly who I would want representing me if I were incompetent to make my own decisions. Sounds like I have painted the picture of a wonderfully warm and generous human being who speaks softly, with manners and always kind and gentle. Yes, this is true of Carrie in many ways although I would warn you… Don’t cross her, she can outwit you and pull the totem your pride was standing on before you can catch your next breath.

These characteristics have served Carrie professionally and recently in a deeply personal way as well. This story is about the ultimate determination I have witnessed in my friend and an incredible journey to parenthood I am so honored to be able to report. Seriously incredible and worth making into a movie, I told Carrie she would be played by Angelina Jolie.

Two years ago Carrie talked to me about her desire to be a mom. She had been in a number of serious relationships throughout her twenties and thirties, none of them amounting to “the one” worth marrying. Since she was well into adulthood, built a professional career and firm foundation, Carrie felt the tug of parenthood greater than the need for following society’s approved order of becoming a parent (i.e. relationship, marriage than baby).

Haters – stop right there. I know some people immediately get all judgmental when someone acts out of the realm of what is traditional. Need I remind you a large number of youth grow up in single parent households in the present day, single moms can do just fine providing all the emotional, physical and financial support a child can possibly need. AND there is no such thing as a traditional household anymore – family make-ups are all unique and no one is better than another – just different. There is no specific recipe for what ingredients make for a healthy child – love and resources in what ever form they may come.

So Carrie began with looking at her options. She wanted the experience of being pregnant, of feeling the baby growing and kicking, and delivering it into the world. She submerged herself into research about the medical advances in using donors and insemination. She met with doctors and began preparing her body. She revised her diet and workout regiment, she was religious about vitamins and necessary medications.

I can’t recall all of the details of each insemination attempt. I know there were many and I know a few took to pregnancies and all ended in miscarriages. Between attempts she became well versed in the medical terminology, being able to converse intelligently with her doctors about what tests they were failing to administer which increased her chances the next time around. She submitted her body to a strict regiment of shots and medications to prepare for and retain the pregnancies. With each attempt Carrie was more hopeful and then more upset with each loss, feeling dreams of motherhood crashing. Feeling pregnancy may not be an option for her she looked into adoption. Adoption also appeared like a hopeless path as adoption agencies look for two parent households. The foster-care into adoption situations would only consider her for older children, sibling sets or children with special needs all of which she felt unprepared.

I heard her talk about “This will be the last try,” leading up to the most recent medical procedure, and I was elated to hear the positive test results several weeks later. Without trying to sound pessimistic I questioned how she and her doctors felt this one would hold better than the last and if she would on-going increased care. I so wanted Carrie to experience to joy of being a mom, to carry a healthy baby and experience the terrific pain of childbirth, I just had a sinking feeling this might not work. In March Carrie told me the news, there was no heartbeat on the sonograms and this pregnancy also ended in a miscarriage. It was devastating to hear and I cannot even begin to imagine how she was feeling. Weeks went by before I heard from her again, and this time it was a phone call I will never forget.

The day before Easter Carrie called to tell me she was going to be a mom and her baby is due by the end of the month. I wanted to cry, I wanted to hug her through the phone, I wanted to be there with her getting to see the expression of joy she had to be having. Words wouldn’t even formulate in my mouth to ask appropriate questions of – how did this happen? She provided me with some background and wanted some information, since she had spent two years working on how to become pregnant she missed the nine months women usually have to prepare for the baby.

Through this phone call and conversations we have had since I understand the bizarre and amazing connections which brought my friend to motherhood. Even greater, the determination my friend sustained throughout this journey demonstrate she can tackle whatever challenges a parent may face.

Carrie and her mom learned of a young woman who was pregnant and wanting to give her baby up for adoption. The birth mom was addicted to a multitude of prescription drugs and knew she couldn’t be responsible for the infant after the birth. She used throughout the pregnancy and had no prenatal care at all. Shortly after meeting with my friend she agreed Carrie is meant to be her baby’s mom.

Carrie scurried to get all of the necessary legal documents completed including a home inspection and began making purchases for a nursery. She paid for a hotel room for the duration of the pregnancy and time afterwards since the birth mom had no stable living arrangements. And she took the birth mom to buy food and to doctors appointments where she learned she was having a boy.

The birth mom reassured Carrie about how even the baby knew she was his mom, when he would calm his movements when her hand was on the belly. She the only person who provided calm for him in the chaotic environment his birth mom surrounded herself with. Carrie said there were various times when several women and handfuls of children would also be staying in the hotel room when she came by with groceries. During one such visit an ambulance was called when one of the birth mom’s guests had a gran mal seizure. The way Carrie described the individuals she interacted with, they sound incredibly intimidating. She certainly wouldn’t let any fear show, as she was there for her son.

The estimated due date provided Carrie with about a month to prepare, except two weeks early she was rushing to the delivery room with the birth mom. The hospital staff requested Carrie’s cooperation to help the birth mom through the labor as she was the only one the panicking woman would respond to. For hours during active labor Carrie was on her knees on the hospital floor to bring her baby into the world. One Monday, at a perfectly healthy weight and size her baby was born, miraculously showing no effects from the drugs or withdrawal symptoms.

You might think hooray, and it ends there… Not for Carrie, with adoption it’s not over until the paperwork is signed by the judge.

Court was scheduled for Thursday, leaving four more days in the hospital. Carrie snuggled her newborn and got to enjoy the first feedings and diaper changes, while in a separate room birth mom recovered. The hospital social worker was obviously disapproving of the adoption arrangement and questioned the birth mom “wouldn’t you want your son to have two parents?” When her questioning wouldn’t budge the birth mom’s decision she talked about child protective services coming to speak with her. After the conversation with the hospital social worker, and without the knowledge of Carrie or any hospital staff the birth mom eloped from her recovery room.

Once the social worker and director of nursing became aware of what was happening they approached Carrie about taking the baby to the nursery, because she was not a legal guardian for the child (yet.) The social worker and DON were no match for all Carrie had been through in the last two years for this child, and she made sure they understood how they had failed this child by making the birth mom feel insecure and allowing her to walk out. She made sure they understood she would not allow her son to be punished by removing him from her care because of their mistakes. Carrie tolerated the babysitter/security they staked out in her room for the remainder of the days leading up to the court hearing.

A head hospital administrator learned of the events taking place on the nursery floor and came to Carrie with an apology. He offered two $10 gift cards to the hospital cafeteria as a gesture, ha – as if that could make up for the furry Carrie felt toward his establishment.

On the Wednesday evening before court the lawyers began drawing attention to the birth mom’s absence and her unresponsiveness to calls. It was clear if she didn’t make it to court, the proceedings wouldn’t happen and the baby would become custody of the state. Carrie’s mom stayed with the baby while Carrie went on a chase. She drove to every sight she had ever been to with the birth mom, contacted each connection she had made with the birth mom and followed every possible lead to where she may be. Around 2am Thursday morning Carrie found herself in a trailer park with some shady characters looking high out front. She found the birth mom inside a trailer passed out and helped her regain enough consciousness to get into the car and return to the hotel room.

Despite the roller coaster of emotions during the week and a sleepless night before the hearing, Carrie made it to court with the birth mom. In the meeting room before seeing the judge the birth mom continued to try to put her head down and sleep, with the lawyers looking on frowning for fear the judge may postpone the date. Carrie insisted she stand up and jog in place with her to stay alert and ensured all of the final paperwork was signed and approved.

My friend Carrie’s story of becoming a mom is the ultimate determination. Her son is as lucky to have her as she is to have him, and I am fortunate to have her friendship. Carrie’s dedication to fulfill her dream is an inspiration to me and to so many others who have witnessed her journey.

Inspired Living KC

Inspiration can come from everywhere, you just have to slow down and notice it..

Tag Archives: parenting