It's amazing how quickly a year goes by when your life changes and you're trying to find the new normal.
I gave birth to my son on October 7th, 2014, via cesarean section as he was breach. My son came out as a ten pound, two ounce baby with a full head of black hair. It was at that moment that I realized what love really is. I also realized that I could never receive anything near it from some random guy, nor did I want it from one. I was officially retired from my dating career, not just because I was hurt and healing but also because it all just seemed so stupid and futile.
My mom drove me to the hospital, was in the room during the delivery, and stayed the first night with us there. My sisters met us at the hospital prior to the delivery, and they picked up my father and nieces and nephews directly after. My son and I spent our second night in the hospital alone. We spent the entire time in my hospital bed, him cradled in my arm, his head in the nook of my shoulder and neck. He was truly mine, and I was completely his, and we've been inseparable ever since.
I wouldn't have had it any other way.
My life quickly became all about being mommy, and I loved it. I stopped wearing make-up and forgot to get my hair colored. I focused on work and paying off my debt, in order to give a better quality of life to my son. And all my spare time became about playing with my child.
And then a few things happened that started to snap me back to reality a little bit, and it came in threes. I lost Alex, an old close friend, this last November. He was kidnapped in Mexico, and his body was later found, burned and beheaded by the side of the road. One of the most horrifying realities I have ever had to try and cope with. Then in December, my best friend that I spoke of in the Edie And Andy post lost his battle to cancer. We had been estranged for over two years, and it has been a hard pill to swallow. And the most difficult of them all: this last March my father passed away suddenly from a stroke.
You can never go home again. It just echoed in my shattered heart. My world had forever changed, and there was nothing I could do about it. My son had just lost the only male role model in his life, my father. Their lives overlapped for five months, in which I am so thankful that my son and I lived in my parents' house during that time. My dad loved him so much. I have never been so grateful that I fought for something so much as I fought to name my son after my dad. It was one of the biggest arguments with the father. I was extremely close with my father, and I cry every day from missing him. My son needs me, though, and he needs my smile, my laughter, and my love. I still have to be a good mom, and I soldier on for him. I know my dad watches over us when we play, and sing, and dance, and it helps a bit. I am so grateful to have had my father, and so grateful to have my son. I see so much of my dad in him.
I have come to realize that in discovering the facets of this new part of myself, I have lost so much of what makes me who I am. I had taken off my Tiffany's nameplate necklace that I had bought myself as a career landmark, and replaced it with a mother necklace that had my son's initials and birthstone on it. I have all of my designer shoes in storage and had resorted to wearing only flip flops or my work shoes. I stopped going to the gym and swapped out zumba and weight training for walks with the stroller. Instead of the confident, outgoing, somewhat attractive, athletic woman I was, I had now become a big, hairy, flat footed mother with an adorable child, but no thought for her own appearance. While I have been happy, it really isn't entirely me.
I kept to my word about giving myself time before considering dating again. I haven't spoken to the father in over a year, and will be finishing up the paternity/child support stuff by the end of this month. My heart is in a much better place now than it was during my last post, though I am still not ready to go and seek out potential partners. Something else became clear through bringing a new life into the world. My body is no longer my own. It's my son's. It created and carried him. It fed him. It comforts, loves and protects him. I can't go out and mess around with guys with the body that my son clings to for comfort when I pick him up. I'm mommy now, first and foremost. My body is meant to cradle and cuddle my son, not to have sex like I'm some ancient Greek priestess. My body is sacred, not like a temple, but as a comfort to my baby.
I know that given time, I will be able to date again, and even become intimate again. It is difficult with full custody to consider dating someone on a regular basis. I don't have time off. I don't give him to his father on the weekends or evenings. It's just me. My family helps when I am working, but I don't want to overstay my welcome by asking for more. It's also difficult for me to consider giving up any of my time with my son for some guy.
Unless it's Tony, I guess. Last night I went on my first date in over a year. Through all of this, I never fully got over him. I took my son to daycare, got my hair cut, colored, and flat ironed, waxed my brows (there are two now), got a mani/pedi, applied some make-up, and put on a maxi dress with sparkly sandals. I even put on my single girl ring (another career landmark purchase). All of a sudden I knew who I was. Ivy. The girl that dated pro athletes, and movie stars. The girl that makes paintings of vaginas, boobies, and fire. The girl that likes a tall pint of Blue Moon and a ballgame and also loves a glass of cabernet and an art exhibit. I was me. I asked my family to pick my son up from daycare and watch him so that I could have a night out, my first in well over a year, and I went and met up with Tony.
We met for dinner and a couple of drinks. Then we went to his place. And talked. We both have been through a lot. There was discussion about just being friends, more so on his side, which I agreed was fine. Then he asked to kiss me.
Friends don't kiss like that. Not at all. Most people in relationships don't kiss like that.
We've decided to continue dating, we're just taking it slow. Really slow. Iceberg slow.
When I came home, I picked up my sleeping son from his play yard. He woke up in a fog, and clung to me. Twenty minutes later, when I thought he had fallen back to sleep, his head resting on my shoulder, I checked and saw that his eyes were still open, his arms still around my neck and shoulder, and he was still cuddling in to me. I don't think I have ever felt so much love, nor so much guilt. I realize that I am a much better mother to my son when I allow all facets of my character and identity to thrive, when I go for a personal night here and there, when I am proud of who I am, not just proud of who my child is. But I also know that I would much rather spend my evening cuddled up with my boy, giving him a bottle, reading him bedtime stories, and seeing him cackle in laughter when I bite his belly and sides than to spend my time trying to build something with some guy, even if it includes getting kissed by one of the sexiest men I have ever met. Buuuuuuuuuuuuut I may be amenable to spending a little time with those kisses every once in awhile. Who knows how long it will take me before I am willing to consider sharing myself intimately with someone again. It won't be a frivolous decision. Poor Tony, I don't know if he really understood what I meant when I said "really slow".
