On Elephants

I am worried that I am forgetting. Forgetting what it was like in the hospital and having him home that first night. The feeling that I got in the shower when I really knew that I was in labor. A combination of excitement, anticipation, fear of the unknown, and shear terror. The look on my mothers face when I told her she better call Terry's parents. Sometimes I look at his pictures and feel all nostalgic. Where has my tiny bean gone? I know, he's only three months but still. I want to remember every second of this time and I am afraid that it will be physically impossible.

About an hour after I had him, the baby nurse came in and took him to rest. They said that both he and I needed our detox time. All my family was standing at the nursery window and I was left by myself for the first time. My room was directly across from the nurses station. They were chatting happily while I was trying to process what had just happened. I felt so at peace knowing that all of the waiting was over and that the real challenge still lay ahead of me. I couldn't help but think of my own mom, Terry's mom, my Nana, my aunts, all the mothers that filled my life and feel this bond of understanding. I felt it again later that night watching the minutes on the clock go by and re-capturing the events of the day. I didn't sleep at all when I was in the hospital. Not even a little bit.

I remember the look on Rebecca's face when she barged into the delivery room to look at him. Wy was probably only 5 minutes old and Rebecca was crying before she even crossed the threshold. The nurses started yelling because there were too many people in the room. One of them saying "How many more people are there?!" Clearly, even in the hospital, I travel with an entourage.

They brought me a hamburger for lunch. One of those cafeteria, plastic burgers with the stale bun, and tastes like cardboard. Who wants to eat that right after giving birth? Poor planning, I say. Terry's parents brought a bottle of champagne into the hospital the day he was born. We popped the cork with him cradled in my arms only hours old.

Rebecca was telling me about when mom woke her up that morning. Evidently, it took a few tries because Rebecca thought it was a joke. We had been playing jokes on one another for months. Screaming "I'm in labor" just to see how the other would react. Anyway, when Rebecca finally internalized what was about to happen she jumped up and hugged mom saying "We're having a baby!"

He learned his first parlor trick in March. Every time I would rub his little bald head like an eight ball he would smile. Hysterical. There are so many little nuances, his likes and dislikes that I have learned, I don't want to forget any of them. Guaranteed by the time he is 7 I will have long forgotten how he likes to be held while he sleeps. But right now it seems very important.

Stream of Consciousness

I had a long 5 days home with Wy for the weekend and returning to work was torturous. I am dragging my feet and can hardly string sentences together. Emily saw me driving to work and said I had the nastiest look on my face. I have been working for about a month now and it is not getting any easier. Does anyone know a job out there that will pay me big bucks to stay home and watch my son? Yeah, I thought not.

We had a really rough one last night. He will make progress for a few nights in a row and then revert back to newborn every two hour feedings. In the beginning, after long nights my mom would find Wyatt sleeping in bed with me. I have tried to steer away from that because I don't want him to get in the habit. But sometimes, to keep myself sane, he has to bunk in so I can roll over to put his binky back in. It is indicative of the night we had, where he is sleeping in the morning. I put him to sleep in his crib last night around 9 and by 1:30 he was in my bed that is how many times he woke up. Normally, he won't make it to mommy's big bed until about 4am. I ask the Dr about it and she said it might be behavioral, which would explain last nights dramatics. I have been home for 5 days and he has been a perfect sleeper, four hour stretches of heaven. I leave him on Wednesday and that night he is up every 15 minutes. Then, he gets to sleep next to mommy. The kid has got me whipped.

In more terrifying news, my mom rumbled with poison ivy over the weekend. The poison ivy won. She has got spots all over her hands, neck and face. Of course, she was all over Wyatt all weekend. Thankfully, he has yet to show any symptoms. Every time I change his diaper he gets stripped down so I can inspect him. How awful would that be to itch all over and not have the coordination to scratch it? Or to spread it all over your body because you don't know the difference? That is cruel punishment for a baby. He has been clean for two days now so we might be in the clear. Cross my fingers.

Yesterday, Mom, Becca and I took Wy for a walk. We decided to stop at the swings figuring it was never to early. He loved it!! I sat down with him on my lap and held him in tight making sure he wasn't going to fall and started pumping. Very slowly at first and then gaining momentum. He didn't know what to make of it and then was laughing. He hates wind in his face so swinging forward it would sound like he was about to cry and then burst out laughing. I never get tired of watching him experience new things.

Taste the Freedom

I remember one of my first ventures out of the house after Wyatt came home. I got in my car and took a big sigh of relief. I was alone at last!! Drunk with freedom!! With a newborn, you can't even go to the bathroom by yourself. Every single second of my life was shared by another. I was tempted to get a full tank of gas and drive until it was empty. Run far, far away and drink lots of margaritas. Drive to California and throw my cell phone out the window. But wouldn't you know it, I drove to the next town over and missed that little bugger. I found myself tearing up at the thought of his little frog feet and sweet smelling hair. I was mad at myself for missing him so much. I wanted to backhand myself screaming 'Get a grip! He's fine. You have been gone for 3 minutes'. I ran my errand and went straight home. Not making any extra stops.

While on maternity leave, I went to get my hair cut and Mom was babysitting for me. I made an appointment so I wouldn't have to wait long. But in the waiting room I sat paralyzed. Should I pull out the book that I have been reading for the past 3 months or should I flick through a magazine? Which magazine: People, Parenting, Glamour, or US Weekly? Should I be on the phone or sitting patiently? The choices were endless. It was the first real time I had by myself without a baby clinging to my chest wanting attention, or laundry that needed to be done, or an errand to run. The result was staring into space. It was too much. I was overwhelmed by the choices.

It happened again to me on my first day at work. I get an entire lunch hour to myself. Ohh the audacity!! Seriously, I had no idea what to do. For the first week, I quietly sat reading in the kitchen for an hour. Finally finishing that book I had been reading since I was pregnant. I could do anything with that hour but couldn't effectively think of one productive thing. It is baffling to me because I am highly productive and have always optimized my free time. Suddenly, I was struck dumb by the sheer freedom of 60 whole minutes.

Slowly, I started to venture out. I got a new phone. I went to Borders to buy a new book. I make calls looking for other jobs, even went on an interview. Go to the grocery store or get a coffee. However, I still am always drawn towards something to do with Wyatt. I went to buy pants at the Gap only to bring home piles of baby clothes. I would try to nap in my car then get all upset because the last time I would do that was when I was pregnant and my legs don't fit with the car seat. Go to CVS only to buy diapers and Destin, forgetting the toothpaste. Even though I have come to enjoy my 20 minute commute to work, it is still unnerving not having Wyatt in the car. But I am learning that the more I get done while I am at work, the more time I get to focus on Wyatt when I get home. And maybe, just maybe, learning to feel good about 60 minutes all to myself.

Yum Yum

Despite doctors orders, I fed Bean his first real food yesterday. The doctor told me to wait until his next appointment on June 13th but in truth I know him far better than she does and he was ready. I researched all my books, to double check my gut feeling, and they all confirmed. He was ready. So, we gave it a shot. He loved it!! I started him off with just 2 tablespoons of rice cereal mixed with breast milk. At first he was hesitant but by the second mouthful he was hooked. He was grabbing the spoon, laughing, and loving it. He got most of it in his mouth and hardly any mess at all. Next on the menu: steak and potatoes.

14 Weeks

Dearest Beaner,

I am at work right now wishing the day would pass sooner so that I could be home to you. I have effectively plastered your face all over my office and I have caught myself staring at you more than a few times. After about three weeks of being back to work, I was hoping it was going to get easier. Its not. I hate leaving your perfection in the morning and have total mom guilt all day. Guilty about waking you in the morning before your ready to get up for the day. Guilty about not filing your nails before you scratch yourself because I don't have enough time during the week. That you have to drink from the bottles you loathe. That I make you skip naps on the weekend so I can have more time with you. Guilty that I don't know you like I used to when I was home all the time. Trust me, if I could stay with you all day, I would. At least you get to stay home with Auntie B and OMa while I pine for you at work, alone. Oh, woe is me.

You started sitting in your high chair for dinner. A rolled up blanket needs to support you but you must be sitting. Its your new thing. Laying down just isn't cutting it anymore. In your bouncy seat, you have started holding onto your pants to try to pull yourself up. You sit at the head of the table reigning over dinner like a King. You get several toys to play with, that you can hold onto with both hands, trying to get them into your mouth. Sometimes you just watch me eat, it fascinates you. You even roll your tongue over and chew on it. Don't worry it will be your turn soon enough.

The weather is FINALLY starting to get nice. Sitting on the front porch swing is still a favorite and on the back deck if its shady. Either you pass out immediately or your head moves side to side a mile a minute trying to take everything in. You sit on my lap and I tell you stories about the squirrels and vegetable gardens and little boys named Wyatt playing in the dirt. You hate when the sun gets into your eyes. You slam your eyes shut and your little body goes all rigid, bobbing and weaving, to get out of the sun. When I put you over my shoulder to burp you, your body doesn't quite fit anymore. A testament to how you've grown. You lock your legs straight and stand up. I am convinced that when you do start to walk you will be running.

You are still not sleeping through the night. 6 hours was the longest ever and that only happened once. However, I don't really mind it much anymore. Since I am working, the nights have become my alone time with you. Sometimes when you give me sleepy smiles I am tempted to throw the lights on and start playing. We both have settled into a routine at bedtime. You get a bath, nurse, read a book, sing a song, and off to snooze land. After you finish eating, you give a big stretch, your arms reaching over your head. I sing Godspeed by the Dixie Chicks and then maybe You're my Home by Billy Joel while you are cradled in my arms. I look forward to cuddling you all day.

You are a great pleasure to be around. Still such a happy, beautiful baby. You laugh out loud all the time, usually at faces but sometimes for no reason at all. Sometimes you will be sound asleep and start laughing. I always wonder what you are dreaming about. On Saturdays we go to Buckram Stables for breakfast with Nana, Grandpa, OMa, and Auntie De. Everyone loves you there and looks forward to seeing your cuteness each week. You never cry, sit on my lap, and take it all in. I love showing you off and having everyone tell me what a gorgeous baby you are. I never grow tired of spending all my time with you. "Everyday, in every way, its getting better and better." - John Lennon.

I love you everyday,

Mama

C-Day

If I do my math correctly, I think we are right about the one year conception anniversary. The night was memorable for more then a few reasons. I was wearing Rebecca's knee high hunter green rain boots, jeans, and a black sweater. Rebecca, Mary Kate, and I met Terry and some of his friends at a bar on 34th and 3rd. It is funny I remember the address but can't for the life of me remember the name of the bar. Jake's Dilemma, maybe. My wallet, palm pilot, camera, and sunglasses got stolen. I should have gone home with Rebecca right after that happened. But drunken logic told me to stay and proceed with tequila shots. I lose everything, laugh it off, drink some more and come home pregnant. Rebecca lost her phone a month or so ago and cried for the entire night. Who had the more reasonable reaction?

My Mom was livid with me that night. I have never heard her so angry with me. I called her from Penn Station at 4a.m chuckling about calling Bank of America. Terry bought a slice of pizza and got mad at me when I took his crust. Ah hello, lost my wallet!!! I'm drunk and starving!! When ever I think about it I shake my head in disbelief. It seems like ages ago. Who was that person?! I was straight out of my amazing year with Habitat and was taking a month "off" to collect my thoughts. Moving back to LI felt like a step backwards for my life, personally and professionally. I distinctly remember feeling lost, unmotivated, defeated, and empty hearted. Those feelings manifesting themselves in my reckless behavior.

Its like that song by Ben Folds - 'I know all the wrong turns, the stumbles, and falls brought me here.' I didn't like the person I was a year ago and worse of all I didn't know how to change. I knew I was making poor decisions but felt powerless to stop them. I was heading to a place that was out of control if I wasn't there already. Many people ask if I regret that night. My answer is no. Am I proud of that night? No. But I have no regrets. I can't regret a night that resulted in the greatest gift. Wyatt is by far the best thing that has happened to me. I know it will get harder but I stand by the fact that I am a better person due to him.

I feel more grounded, happy, and successful than I have felt in a long time. A piece of the puzzle, found. I feel in touch with my emotions, morals, and expectations. When I was little, I thought that all the babies of the world were up in heaven, looking down on us, and choosing their parents. Maybe Wyatt chose me. Maybe he knew that I needed saving. Maybe he knew, before I did, that I was searching for a saving grace. Now, all my problems are not magically solved because I had a child. Far from it. I am still very much a work in progress. But having him has given me a much deeper understanding of myself and my values. I am a far cry from the person I was a year ago. Wyatt has motivated me to make a change. I thank God every night for blessing me with this amazing child. But if Wyatt did choose me, maybe I should be thanking him.

Jungle Evolution

Just about a month ago Little Man hated and was mildly terrified of his jungle. Now, he wants to beat the crap out of it. Sometimes he grabs both of those toys and acts like he is doing pull ups on them. He seems to favor his right hand when reaching for things and his left hand for sucking on. He even gets his little thumb in his mouth. I swear he is growing and changing every day.

Showing off his excellent hearing skills and his love for the camera. I will come home from work and he will turn to my voice before he sees me. So, freakin' cute.

Car Crash Lovers

Our Elizabeth (aka Besty Blowhole or Lexy Luv) got into a car accident on Saturday. She's fine, thank God, but we are all pretty shaken up over it. Lizzy and her friend Tony were delivering flowers for the shop for Mothers Day. They stopped at a stop sign, proceeded through the intersection, and got hit by a speeding car that swerved into their lane. From what witnesses report, the car did a few 360's, flipped, and landed with Lizzy on the pavement. Tony's car was totaled and almost every piece of glass broke. He just bought it about two months ago. Both of them walked away bruised and shaken.

My first reaction is to make fun of the situation. Classic Kate. I crack jokes trying to brighten the mood. My whole family has been ripping on Lizzy saying the her and Tony are bonded for life and need to get married. I have been singing "car crash lovers, that's what they are". Tony has been raised to hero status in our house. He was the one who opened the sun roof, helped pull Lizzy to safety, and is still coming over to check up on her. He even, get this, smelled Lizzy to see if she wet her pants. (It was ice coffee and water that spilled in the car. Lizzy had a vase on her lap). Come on now people, that's love.

Unfortunately, my crass humor does little to lighten the severity of the situation. I can't stop thinking about her or the accident. The ER doctor was astounded they weren't hurt. This was a causality accident. I am finding myself viewing Lizzy in a new light. Lizzys' obnoxious, gruff, 16 year old ways are suddenly endearing. Since I moved home, our relationship has been given an opportunity to blossom. I moved out when Lizzy was 8 and we all know how wonderful I am with children. I feel like I have been given a second chance to get to know her even better. I can't even imagine how Elizabeth feels but I am sure it is all consuming and eye opening. Every teenager feels that they are infallible, indestructible, I know I thought so, facing your mortality must be sobering.

I am paranoid about driving now. I drive the speed limit and view every other car as an explosive device. Driving with Wyatt, I am even worse. I have checked his car seat about 12 times. I was paranoid to begin with and this accident has confounded my worry. I would feel so responsible if he got even a scratch while I was driving. The thought that I failed to keep him safe is terrifying to me. I am not even going to go into what ifs. My mom, viewing the accident, police cars, and firetrucks for the first time, said "it was like 9-11". Yes, its over dramatic and not even remotely close to that kind of tragedy. But when it is your child, I can understand how it could feel that monumental. I can understand how you would rather it be you. I can understand how it must feel like the end of the world.

Vitals - Part 2

Are you ready for the 3 month check up weigh in?!?! Our man has remained in the 90th percentile at:

16 pounds and 1 ounce
25 and a half inches

He's a macho, macho man!! When we walked in the nurse said "You're here for 6 months right?" Not so much. We are debating about his weight. He drank a 5 ounce bottle right before he got weighed. Mom said that we should subtract that from his total weight. I argued that I just ate 12 pounds of cookies. Can I minus that from my total weight? I think not.

The first picture is Wyatt looking very upset about his shot. Only one this time. Something about Pnenococcal Conjugate. I will only allow one at a time. He did have a little local reaction, small red bumps. I think this means that he is prone to side-effects and might hold off on vaccines until he is older. I am going to do all the research I can before next appointment. The second is him being fascinated with his Tasmanian Devil bandaide. I don't usually have him laying around half naked. I was trying to get him dressed for the day. In case you were wondering.

Before I was a Mom

In the spirit of Mothers Day, I decided to post something that has been chain emailed to me several times. I swear I cried the first time I read it. It is very hard for me to describe what being a mom feels like. Motherhood has inspired me to be a better person, has pushed the limits of my patience, and forced me to evalutate my values. It has entirely changed the way I view the world and how I view myself. I never in one million years thought that I would be effected so completely by having a child. I am amazed by the changes in myself and how I was able to pull a 180 in regards having children. More importantly, I have discover this new found respect, admiration, and bond with my own mother and other mothers in my life. I am in awe of the outstanding things they have acomplished.


"As a mother, love washes over and colors everything that has to do with your child. You find strength in yourself to do things you never could have imagined. You do whatever is required to take care of you child." Linda Dahlstrom


Before I was a Mom, I never tripped over toys or forgot words to a lullaby.
I didn't worry whether or not my plants were poisonous.
I never thought about immunizations.


Before I was a Mom - I had never been puked on. Pooped on. Chewed on. Peed on.
I had complete control of my mind and my thoughts.
I slept all night.


Before I was a Mom, I never held down a screaming child so doctors could do tests.
Or give shots.
I never looked into teary eyes and cried.
I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.
I never sat up late hours at night watching a baby sleep.

Before I was a Mom, I never held a sleeping baby just because I didn't want to put him down.
I never felt my heart break into a million pieces when I couldn't stop the hurt.
I never knew that something so small could affect my life so much.
I never knew that I could love someone so much.
I never knew I would love being a Mom.

Before I was a Mom - I didn't know the feeling of having my heart outside my body.
I didn't know how special it could feel to feed a hungry baby.
I didn't know that bond between a mother and her child.
I didn't know that something so small could make me feel so important and happy.


Before I was a Mom - I had never gotten up in the middle of the night every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay.
I had never known the warmth, the joy, the love, the heartache, the wonderment or the satisfaction of being a Mom.

I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much, before I was a Mom.

Second Coming of Regina George

I have been a mean girl lately. I hate when I am mean. I know it may seem impossible because I have a calm, composed demeanor but every now and again I have been known to have a very sharp tongue. Especially with my family and adding tequila makes it much worse. I think it is because I am uninhibited by the repercussions. They have to love me no matter what I say. With them I tend to say whatever comes to mind without processing it through my mental filter and without concern for their feelings.

I want to officially apologize. I don't mean to hurt and I have to attribute most of my harshness to jealousy. I am jealous that my Mom and Rebecca are living my life with my son. Jealous that they are clocking more time with him than I am. That they get to experience him during his happiest times and I arrive home to end of the day crankiness and midnight feedings. That they are present to witness his firsts while I am working. I know its kind of a cop out but I have to throw hormones in the mix as well. I have been very even keel throughout my pregnancy, his birth, and first two months. Pat myself on the back. However, all of a sudden, I am finding myself very emotional. Leaving him makes me feel like this blind legless armless wonder that wanders aimlessly though my day. Its definitely something to be emotional about. I cried three times in church this Sunday while totally unaware of the cause. Church is not suppose to make people cry.

My jealousy rears its ugly butt with aggressive comments that focus on Rebecca and Moms insecurities as caregivers. Comments that imply that I would always do a better job or how they are not doing something right. I am irritable. Quick to judge and put people down. I want things done my way all the time (which is not always the right way). I call to check in and give a laundry list of things that they should be doing. I get frustrated easily and as soon as the words are out of my mouth I regret saying them. Please, ignore me. Both of you.

I am trying to be better about it. I LOVE that I have people I trust watching him. I am overwhelmed by the AMAZING job they are doing. He is thriving, safe, and loved all day. That is the most important thing to me. That is what I have to focus on instead of my selfish jealousy. I adore that he goes on walks every day. I just wish that I was home to participate. Wish I was home to love, adore, and catch his every waking smile. You both are doing fabulously amazing jobs and Wyatt is the better for it. I can't even begin to tell you how eternally grateful I am that he is home with two of his most adoring fans. But I can try by not being such a bitch!!

Hunger like a Boob

I think it's a record how many times I have posted with boob in the title. It's a sick fascination with me. Now that I am allowed, more like tolerated, to talk about my boobs every other sentence is filled with breast references. Working boobs have nothing to do with sex boobs and they seriously have a life of there own. They are no longer part of my body. When you walk into our house be prepared to be greeted by 2 grandparents, 2 sisters, a new mom, a baby, and Bessie and Clara Bell the resident directors of milk services.

But I digress. True to all the pregnancy rumors, my life became defined by food. I loved that I was permitted by society to eat at all times. The people at Carvel knew me by name when I was 5 months. I was expecting to have a ton of pickle and ice cream cravings but that never happened (yes to ice cream, no to pickles). I never had to send family members on expeditions to the store at 3am (well maybe once when Dad had to get me raspberry sherbet, not strawberry, raspberry). In fact, I was never motivated to get out of bed for food. I had more helpings but stayed with three meals a day and a snack before bed.

Pregnancy did nothing to prepare me for breastfeeding hungry. My boobs are hungry ALL THE TIME!!! Pregnant hunger is I want a slice of pizza the size of my head and I want it now, get out of my way. Breast feeding hunger is opening the cabinet and devouring everything inside. It has no rhyme or reason. It is being famished. For anything. All the time. I rarely care what I am eating just as long as it is in my mouth. I clean plates on third helpings. I finish side dishes out of their serving bowls when everyone else is done. Lick the bowl after my nightly heap of ice cream. You wonder why our grocery bill has gone up to $250 a week. No, it is not the exorbitant price of groceries, its Kate the human garbage disposal who can methodically devour every bag of chips or cookies in the house in an hour. Yes, Mom, I am eating you out of house and home. No, its not the cats at 4am rummaging for a granola bar. Yes, Terry, I was the one the finished every single package of girl scout cookies that I had intended to send you. Yes, I am always the culprit.

It's astonishing and annoying. It would be one thing if I felt like eating something specific or had cravings. But no, I am not in the mood to eat anything. I want everything. Thankfully, I am still holding steady at 130lbs. Still have some pregnancy weight to lose but I am not complaining. I think that all the extra calories that I am eating are going straight to Wyatt because he is looking more and more like Spanky from the Little Rascals. (I believe he does have the hat and suspenders too). OK, well, surprise, surprise, I'm famished. Like haven't eaten in three months because the locusts ate our crops, malnourished, 'Please sir can I have some more', kid from Africa famished.

Is there a Dr in the House?

I love our pediatrician. I love that I am able to say that so confidently. It has been a long road to get there. During my pregnancy, finding a doctor was another thing to do on my long list of preparation. Most of my books said that I need to go interview potential pediatricians and gave a laundry list of questions to ask. For example, are there separate waiting rooms for sick babies and well babies? What is your philosophy regarding breast feeding? Will you respect my choices regarding immunizations or antibiotics? Are you board certified? I was tempted to ask them for their resumes and three references.

It was all very intimidating. Rarely am I intimidated. I hardly feel qualified to ask any Dr questions about their practice. Not to mention, the lack of time required to set up appointments for interviews. I did like this one pediatrician that spoke at a class I took on baby's first year but his practice was in Manhasset, way to far for night visits and emergencies. I thought about going with the pediatrician that saw my family but I was reminded of the hastily done stitches, single waiting room, tendency to over medicate, and lack of personal involvement. So, that idea was nixed.

I went on one interview and called another four practices. I wanted to find a Dr that made me feel comfortable enough to ask stupid questions. I am a first time mom, stupid questions are as predictable as the sunrise. I wanted someone who was available to me and didn't make me feel like I was wasting their time. I finally chose one and then they weren't on Terry insurance. Brilliant. So, Terry picked a doctor. Thankfully, I am in love with the practice that Terry chose. The doctors are great, patient, understanding, the kind of people that wear bugs bunny ties, and look the kids in the eyes. They make me feel comfortable and hopefully that will translate to Wyatt despite those pesky shots. Our three month appointment is on Monday. I think he gets a month off from shots but we'll see.

Laughs A Million

He is still working on his laugh but it is getting bigger and more distinguishable by the day. My Dad can always get him laughing. I think it is because he is so funny looking. Anyway, I have decided to post more videos. For all you pervies, yes dad does have his head in a questionable area but no its not what you think. Enjoy this!!

My Mia Girl

After my mom's post, I received this email from my dear friend Mia. I read it, cried a lot (and continue to do so after every reading), and asked her if I could share it to put it in the blog archive. She agreed after some prodding. Mia, I love you to pieces. I am so blessed that I stumbled upon you. My life is all the richer.

Since the moment I met Kate (or Veesta as I like to call her) I knew she was someone special. For someone to put up with me, she had to be! In Mississippi, Kelly and I were just drawn to her for some reason and the three of us made a great team. Beyond a passion and a love for Habitat for Humanity and AmeriCorps and an accidental meeting due to being in the same place at the same time, we were (and remain to be) three very different girls. Coming from Connecticut, Kelly was the sweet and innocent conscience on your shoulder with an open heart and a good head on her shoulders. Coming from Massachusetts, I think I came with a sarcastic attitude and a little bit of typical Masshole aggression, mixed with an I know it all attitude and a 'let's walk on the edge' personality. Kate, from New York City, was the epitome of New York with her dramatic escapades, her 'jump right off the edge and into the ocean, head first, wearing nothing but a bra and underwear' personality, and her constant optimism. Regardless, the three of us made sense and we traveled across South Carolina (and later the Northeast) in order to visit as often as we could. Weekends together were filled with booze, movies, love, cheese fries, church (yes, church!) and pure fun. I remember this teaching fellowship that she was so excited about last year some time around June or so. She called me for all sorts of words of wisdom on teaching and I couldn’t help but let my passion overflow as I shared my thoughts with Kate. Later, when I asked about it, she told me it was “turning out to be pretty sketchy.” So she dropped the program and got a good 9-5 decent job. This didn’t seem like enough of a challenge for Kate but she did it and I respected her decision for whatever reasons.


I remember Kate driving out to see me last summer. I waited until almost midnight for her arrival on a Friday night and she came up my stairs and onto my couch and said “I’m pregnant” and I thought she must be joking. Turns out, she wasn’t, and it really ruined my booze-filled weekend but it made my Kate-filled weekend that much better. We talked a lot about everything: Terry, abortion, baby names, baby schemes, guys, plans, thoughts, ideas, feelings, emotions, love, hate… and I remember thinking, God I hope Kate can do it. It isn't that I doubted her. After all, I think Kate might quite honestly be one of the strongest and most beautiful people that I’ve ever met, but having a baby – well – let’s just say – it’s not a predicament I’d want to be in.


Kate is not the first pregnant person I’ve ever known but I don’t know that I’ve ever met one so dedicated. I couldn’t believe how she gave up so many things in order to raise Bean like the teaching fellowship and coffee. I don’t even think she had caffeine during her pregnancy! How selfless! I went out to see her in January and I couldn’t believe how huge she was and how dedicated she was and how unbelievably happy she was. I’ve always thought of Kate as the type to make the best out of every situation but I didn’t expect her to be quite so wonderful and beautiful and open to all that was going on with her body, her brain, her heart, and her soul. Kate has this intensity about her, in everything she does. She’s caring and thoughtful and the kind of person that anyone is lucky to have as a friend… but as for Bean… I can’t believe how lucky he is to have her for a mother. Many mothers, especially young ones with unplanned pregnancies, have regrets but Kate isn’t one of them. She has not only taken on the role of motherhood but she has embraced it with open arms and I think she’s doing an amazing job. I think Bean (or Wyatt if I must call him by his given name!) is quite possibly one of the luckiest people on earth. I hope eighteen years from now or twenty years from now or fifty years from now, Bean reads things like this and realizes how strong and beautiful and optimistic and truly brilliant his mother was, is and always will be. I don’t know Terry but if Terry is anything like the way that Kate has described him to me, Bean is a very, very lucky boy. As for my dear, sweet Bean: if you have one-half of the character your mother has, one-eighth of the strength your father has, one-fourth of the love your mother has, one-twelfth of the drive of both of your parents, one-fifteenth of the spirit, one-thirtieth of the dedication, the love, the unbelievable devotion; you will be more than blessed. I love you both.