Pursuing Our Children: A Jax-Babe Date

Often times, when we read stories about lasting love, we are met with the concept of continuing to “date” our significant others. We must continue to pursue them. Essentially meaning we need to be intentional and take the time to take time for one another and learn each other as life changes and we change. It may take some extra time and might require some serious scheduling, but it’s well worth it to make sure we build and maintain strong bonds. I have always loved this concept and was the first to subscribe to it as it applied to romance and marriage…but what about our relationships with others? Our parents? Our friends? Our children?

Earlier this week, I had a couple of appointments that I couldn’t afford to put off so I went ahead and took the day from work to make sure they got handled. Since there were also a good amount of errands to run as well, I figured I would knock them out between appointments. A busy day indeed. Not at all the day I wanted off of work.

As I began to get ready for my oh-so-exciting, my husband had a brilliant idea that actually would make the day exciting. Why don’t I bring our oldest along for the day? An excellent idea.

So, Jax and I got ourselves ready and we headed out. We knocked out my appointments, scheduled a repair for my damaged windshield (eyeroll), and went grocery shopping just to name a few of the boring tasks—or the would-be boring tasks, if I didn’t have Jax with me.

I kind of allowed myself to bounce through the activities like nothing, but once we stopped for lunch and I sat across from this beautiful blonde-haired boy, watching him slam his chicken nuggets, I found myself in amazement and filled with such gratitude for him. The morning really had bounced along quite pleasantly and that was because of him. In all that he is, and at risk of sounding totally cliché, he totally does make the most ordinary of situations extraordinary. Somehow he spun our trip to Safelite into a special mission for us to embark on together in order to ensure the safety of our family and a trip to the grocery store was a treasure hunt and an amazing race all in one. Every little stop was an exciting insight to his amazing mind and a chance to actually have some, dare I say, fun.

I made sure to tune in as he explained to me how crazy it is that the sun melts the snow so that’s why the roads are wet and that’s a bigger problem for the zombies than it is for us but we should probably still make sue we get our car fixed just in case because even though Daddy is very strong, zombies can still eat our brains—but I couldn’t help but get a little lost in my own thoughts of how much I genuinely love this one-on-one time with this kid.

I mean, it’s not like this thought is necessarily profound or anything like that. Anyone who has met Jax knows he rocks. Between work, and chores, and practices, and all of the other life things (all of which I am very grateful for), my roll as a wife and mom of two all gets kind of lumped into one. I don’t like this. It’s not one roll. It’s three. I am a wife to Corey. I am a mother to Jaxon. I am a mother to Brady. Although breaking these into three separate parts may seem like more, which it totally is, it can be more good if I choose to let it be, and I need to choose to let it be. Each of these precious dudes deserve to be tended to and loved on as individuals. Especially as our family grows, I need to make this choice.

Time is going way too damn fast and I don’t want to miss out on the chance to know my boys for who they are as individuals. This may take some extra juggling and finessing of schedules, but as I peak in the rearview mirror at the sleeping boy, who I swear was my Mickey-loving toddler just last week, it is well worth it all. It is well worth it to continually pursue my boy.

Pregnancy, Fitness, and Body Image

As I write this, I am a tad bit over eight months pregnant (Oh my gosh!) and I know what you’re thinking—I really have done a terrible job of documenting this pregnancy, publicly anyway (I keep a private journal of damn-near everything). While I am the type of person that definitely believes some things are just meant to stay private, I am also someone who appreciates when others share their experiences to help me learn and feel inspired, so I try to do the same for others. So today, when I realized just how little I have posted about my pregnancy, I couldn’t help but to feel a little disappointed in myself. I couldn’t help but wonder, why have I not posted more? Have I not enjoyed being pregnant? Am I not really proud of this baby?

When I really thought about it, I realized the answer. First, there have been things I simply did not want to share. I hadn’t wanted the world to know my baby’s name, the details of my birth plan, or some other things that will be surrounding his birth. I do not have any regrets about not sharing those things. In the future, maybe I will. Or won’t. Who knows? Secondly though, I had not been posting more about my pregnancy not because I felt ashamed or because I haven’t been excited, but because I have felt very uncomfortable in my growing body. This part I do regret.

Early on in my pregnancy, I had talked about feeling joyful in the changes, but that was very easy for me to say when I still had yet to gain a pound or inch, much less twenty. When I did start to really grow though, the weight and inches came on fast and strong, and it was a lot for me to handle to be quite honest. When I had my first prenatal appointment after Christmas break, I wept when my midwife told me my weight.

For some of you, this may seem very dramatic, but this moment was very harsh and real for me. In my twenty-five years of life, I had never liked my body and had very few moments where I was able to feel any amount of confidence in my looks. The weight of the “Man, you’re huge!” comments, along with the weight of the baby, fell hard on me. Although Corey has patiently talked me through countless emotional outbursts and a few of my coworkers have showered me in kind words, my silly mind continued to focus on the negative and let voices from my past to live in my present.

Super toxic. No more.

This past weekend, I was asked to model for a fitness apparel line that is specifically being marketed toward pregnant women (Y’all, the stretch and comfort factor of Halio Lifestyle Athletica is no joke). My good friend was heading the campaign and the one who asked me to model, which is honestly about 90% of the reason I said yes. I did not feel like I should be having my picture taken, much less be shown to help market a fitness line. “No one is going to want to look at this,” I told Corey, looking down at my huge belly.

The day of the shoot, I was still feeling uneasy. The leggings and sports bra I wore were absolutely beautiful, but I still tensed up when asked to remove my sweatshirt. I still took it off though and posed and laughed along, trying my best to fake it till I made it. My girlfriend who was taking the pictures hyped me up the entire time, but again, I just wasn’t feeling myself.

When she sent me some of the photos the next day, telling me how cute she thought I looked, I still wasn’t feeling myself.

I kept coming back to look at the photos though. Initially it was hard to look. Then I would openly gawk at myself, zooming in to criticize the moon attached to my abdomen and how scrawny my limbs looked in comparison. Eventually though, I became kind of amazed at myself. It finally hit me.

I’m growing a gosh darn baby in my belly!

For the past year, especially the last eight months, I have eaten a clean diet and put in hard work at the gym and done all that I could to gain and improve health. As a result, my body has been able not only to conceive a child, but to grow and develop a healthy one. I still don’t think my belly is the most beautiful of them all, but I know it is beautiful. Baby Boy and I have definitely grown bigger these past eight months, but we’ve also grown stronger and healthier. I have learned my limits and so much more. That is something I am proud of.

I am proud.

I am also very inspired and determined. I am inspired and determined to continue putting in the work to take care of my body (and mind) as this little dude continues to cook, and to continue doing so after he is born. I want to model for both my boys what a happy and healthy woman looks like, and I also want to continue feeling proud of myself. I figured if I wrote about it here, I might bring some comfort to another mom, and I also will give myself some accountability. A journey of health and improvement is one I can definitely promise to document.

Always and forever I am thankful to the people who have done nothing but lift me up (literally Corey with the belly lifts, you the real MVP) throughout this pregnancy. Always and forever thankful to be pregnant.

{Step}Motherly Things

Being a mom to someone else’s child is hard. Very Hard. Don’t get me wrong, it’s beautiful and wonderful in many ways. Also though, it’s hard.

Loving Jaxon is easy. It has never been anything but that. I still remember the first time I held that sweet baby boy in my arms, feeling like I had never felt more complete—I had never felt more like myself than I did, and still do, with him in my arms.

What’s hard, I think, is what has come from this effortless love.

It’s been nearly a year since that first, glorious morning I have already mentioned. In that time, I have gotten him out of bed each day. I have changed the morning diapers. I’ve made his breakfasts, enduring the ones he didn’t like being thrown at my face. I’ve watched him grow out of clothes and learn his colors and body parts. I’ve learned and relearned him as he has grown and learned and changed himself. I do not exaggerate when I say I have loved each and every second of it all.

In my eyes, in my heart, he’s mine now too.

But it’s that “too” that’s hard. It’s that “too” that hurts.

In just a few short weeks, Jaxon will leave Corey and I to go back to his mother, who has been honorably serving our country overseas during this time. This is a good thing. I know this. While I have not spent time with Jax’s mom, almost all I’ve been told is how much she loves and cherishes her sweet boy. Who wouldn’t want that for a child? And honestly, who would want to deprive a loving mother from her son?

Once Jaxon goes back with her though, I will endure the horrors of a clean and quiet house, a late-waking Saturday morning, and early-setting Friday night. I will face days without seeing his sweet face and hearing his perfect, little voice. Sure, I’ll get to see the photos mom sends to Corey, but it’s just not the same. Once Jax is with his mom, Corey will still get to be the dad, as he should be, but I will no longer be the mom, or babe (what Jax calls me). I won’t be anything. Not until it’s our turn again, anyway.

I’m in no way trying to diminish what a biological parent does or take the place of Jaxon’s mother—I would never do either of those things. What I am trying to say though is that no one talks about this feeling. No one talks about being a childless mother. No one talks about the pain of having a child that’s not really your child to anyone but you.

I would never trade a second of this life. Every single part of this is beyond worth it. That being said, being a mom to someone else’s child is hard.