Lj Idol Week 12: Some Assembly Required
I have had very few moments of pure joy in my life, and as a mother I realize I am meant to say that the birth of my son was one of those moments. It wasn't. For me, having a child was extremely similar to falling in love- it doesn't happen all at once or overnight. At 20 years old I was far from prepared to give up my life for someone else; too many demons lived inside of me.
When Jakob was born it was much like a first date- he was cute and I was excited, yet nervous and unsure. As time went on, I grew more and more used to his presence in my life, became accustomed to him, though I was still very much terrified and unable to be the parent I should have been. Eventually, I fell madly in love- I can pinpoint the exact moment, one where I had come home from work and this tiny bundle of amazing was so excited to see me, and so happy I was home, and reached for me with his fat little arms. I didn't deserve such unabashed love, but I realized I had fallen deep for this perfect extension of his father and I.
Completely opposite of me his father fell right into being parent, fell madly for our son from the first moment. As he grew they became the best of friends. I often felt shame and guilt that I was unable to be half the parent Armand was. But through that I became a better parent, forced to live up to the impossibly high standards he had been setting. I digress, however, as this isn't about how I came to be the mom I am today, or how amazing his father always was.
We didn't have much money when Jakob was a baby- scratch that, we didn't have any money, and for the three of us our world was my old bedroom at my mother's house. This was not a happy place to be and I wonder sometimes how different our relationship would have turned out if we had gotten out of there sooner, together. Up until he was about 6 months old the only bed we really had for Jake was a bassinet that he was quickly growing out of it. And not one of those beautiful rocking models either, this was a vibrating, low to the floor, no baby should really live in type deal. But we both worked hard to make sure we had diapers and food and clothes for our son, so a crib was just not affordable- no matter how used or worn.
We were lucky in that Armand's godfather and uncle had had a baby a few months before Jakob was born, and so hand-me-downs were fairly common. There had been mention of getting a crib from them but we didn't know if that would actually happen, so when Armand brought home the pieces one day when Jake was 6 months old, we were besides ourselves. I remember attempting to put it together - one or both of us sitting in the middle of a metal frame trying to figure out what the hell we were doing. I can't say for sure, but I am almost positive a few fights were had. We had no instructions and were working off of nothing more than an idea in our head of what a crib should look like, how it should function. Jakob looked on from our bed, big blue eyes questioning the movement around him. Finally, it was compete. Complete...and huge. I honestly can not tell you how we managed to fit a queen sized bed, dresser, changing table, full sized crib, wall of shelves, and other crap into our bedroom, but we did it.
After putting the mattress in with only the bottom sheet we decided to put Jake in and see how he liked it. I don't remember every thing from his early childhood (it's safe to say I have even blocked a lot of it out), but there will never be a day in my life where I can not recall the sheer happiness we all felt in that moment. We sat Jakob in his brand new bed and the happiest squeal I have ever heard escaped through him. I have no idea how he could have known, but somehow the knowledge that this was his bed overtook him. He laughed and then suddenly began rolling around, back and forth in all his pudgy, tumbly, baby-glory. That was the first time I had felt the pure joy mentioned above, a feeling so honest, so strong that I still get emotional when I think about it. My son had a bed. His father and I could not give him much but a safe, warm, soft place to sleep was something we could now provide.
We broke up sometime after his first birthday though we still lived together and tried to make it work for a little while, it just wasn't possible. There was a lot of struggle, fighting, a lot of anger. My behavior during that time in our lives is embarrassing, and I wish I had been able to tell Armand how sorry I was for everything. I guess though, I don't need to, he knew. That crib was not the only thing we built together- through the next 9 years we not only built a really strong friendship, but also the ability to co-parent in a way that makes me swell with pride to think about now. When Armand died, the pain was overwhelming- it continues to be. But I hold on to that moment of pure happiness, to the lessons he taught me through raising our child, and I know the foundation he built inside of our son and myself is strong enough to get us through anything.
When Jakob was born it was much like a first date- he was cute and I was excited, yet nervous and unsure. As time went on, I grew more and more used to his presence in my life, became accustomed to him, though I was still very much terrified and unable to be the parent I should have been. Eventually, I fell madly in love- I can pinpoint the exact moment, one where I had come home from work and this tiny bundle of amazing was so excited to see me, and so happy I was home, and reached for me with his fat little arms. I didn't deserve such unabashed love, but I realized I had fallen deep for this perfect extension of his father and I.
Completely opposite of me his father fell right into being parent, fell madly for our son from the first moment. As he grew they became the best of friends. I often felt shame and guilt that I was unable to be half the parent Armand was. But through that I became a better parent, forced to live up to the impossibly high standards he had been setting. I digress, however, as this isn't about how I came to be the mom I am today, or how amazing his father always was.
We didn't have much money when Jakob was a baby- scratch that, we didn't have any money, and for the three of us our world was my old bedroom at my mother's house. This was not a happy place to be and I wonder sometimes how different our relationship would have turned out if we had gotten out of there sooner, together. Up until he was about 6 months old the only bed we really had for Jake was a bassinet that he was quickly growing out of it. And not one of those beautiful rocking models either, this was a vibrating, low to the floor, no baby should really live in type deal. But we both worked hard to make sure we had diapers and food and clothes for our son, so a crib was just not affordable- no matter how used or worn.
We were lucky in that Armand's godfather and uncle had had a baby a few months before Jakob was born, and so hand-me-downs were fairly common. There had been mention of getting a crib from them but we didn't know if that would actually happen, so when Armand brought home the pieces one day when Jake was 6 months old, we were besides ourselves. I remember attempting to put it together - one or both of us sitting in the middle of a metal frame trying to figure out what the hell we were doing. I can't say for sure, but I am almost positive a few fights were had. We had no instructions and were working off of nothing more than an idea in our head of what a crib should look like, how it should function. Jakob looked on from our bed, big blue eyes questioning the movement around him. Finally, it was compete. Complete...and huge. I honestly can not tell you how we managed to fit a queen sized bed, dresser, changing table, full sized crib, wall of shelves, and other crap into our bedroom, but we did it.
After putting the mattress in with only the bottom sheet we decided to put Jake in and see how he liked it. I don't remember every thing from his early childhood (it's safe to say I have even blocked a lot of it out), but there will never be a day in my life where I can not recall the sheer happiness we all felt in that moment. We sat Jakob in his brand new bed and the happiest squeal I have ever heard escaped through him. I have no idea how he could have known, but somehow the knowledge that this was his bed overtook him. He laughed and then suddenly began rolling around, back and forth in all his pudgy, tumbly, baby-glory. That was the first time I had felt the pure joy mentioned above, a feeling so honest, so strong that I still get emotional when I think about it. My son had a bed. His father and I could not give him much but a safe, warm, soft place to sleep was something we could now provide.
We broke up sometime after his first birthday though we still lived together and tried to make it work for a little while, it just wasn't possible. There was a lot of struggle, fighting, a lot of anger. My behavior during that time in our lives is embarrassing, and I wish I had been able to tell Armand how sorry I was for everything. I guess though, I don't need to, he knew. That crib was not the only thing we built together- through the next 9 years we not only built a really strong friendship, but also the ability to co-parent in a way that makes me swell with pride to think about now. When Armand died, the pain was overwhelming- it continues to be. But I hold on to that moment of pure happiness, to the lessons he taught me through raising our child, and I know the foundation he built inside of our son and myself is strong enough to get us through anything.