1 year ago today I began the journey of raising Josiah. Even though I wasn’t a first time mom, it had been over a decade since I had charge over the care of an infant. As he lay on my chest in the hospital I prayed that I would do better this time around. Not that I’d completely failed in prior endeavors, but as you grow and mature you always see room for improvement. Or at least, hopefully, you should.
I remember that first day fairly well. My mom was there snapping shots like nobody’s business and one of my best friends came by late and ended up being my saving grace because my dinner had never arrived from the cafeteria. That day was amazing. My son was finally here, I was exhausted and elated. My daughters came and sat with me for a while after school and I was one step closer to sleeping on my stomach again.
Only one thing was missing, or one person rather, his dad. Even though it was crystal clear to me that he could not and would not be there it still stung. I can recall emotionally chastising myself for repeating history. This was the second time I gave birth to a son, without his father present. Amidst my self doubt and tears I reminded me that I wasn’t an 18y.o. child anymore; I’m a grown, strong woman. This was not the same situation, and I was not making the same mistakes.
The next day was filed with all manner of standard processes and procedures so we could be discharged; blood draws, examinations, et cetera. Everything looked great, he had a little heart murmur* but that was something he should grow out of and he was jaundiced* but that should clear up quickly as well the doctor said. By five that evening he was all bundled up and ready to go home and out into the cold. The first couple weeks were smooth and easy as we settled into our routine. I was spent from getting up every 2 hours but still so overwhelmed at how happy I was.
Around week 2 something strange happened. Josiah stopped pooping. All together no explanation, no warning just nothing. I called his doctor for advice and initially was told it was normal. Breastfed babies could go up to 7 days sometimes longer without pooping. Now I don’t know about you but my whole attitude is different if I don’t poop for a couple days. I am not the same person and neither was my son. He became fussy, crying a lot. He would only nurse in five minute spurts. That also meant he was nursing about every 10-15 minutes.
About a week after he stopped pooping he began choking and gagging in his sleep. I was absolutely terrified the first time watching my child failing unable to breath with wide eyes begging for my help. Even though I’m certified in infant cpr, none of the strategies that relate to choking were helping. Instinctively I grabbed his nasal aspirator and used it like suction in his mouth. He began gasping for air and crying so uncharacteristically everyone in my house was awakened. Sleep was quickly becoming a distant memory as this would be the first of many times that he would choke in his sleep.
We were quickly becoming mutually uncomfortable and unhappy. As the days stretched between his bowel movements, he began to strain more often eventually developing an umbilical hernia as a result. To top it off he was still dealing with jaundice intermittently and gagging in his sleep. I in the interim remained consistent with my insistence that this was not normal and my son was not himself. During one of our frequent visits to his pediatrician they asked me about his father’s medical history as it wasn’t on record and they thought it may give some insight into all of the issues that seemed to be surmounting. I called his father for the first time in over a month. He answered and we spoke briefly until I brought up my questions regarding Josiah. The line went dead. I dialed his number again but this call would go unanswered. I was emotionally devastated once again. I just could not comprehend his reasoning.
Finally after about two and a half weeks with much persistence Josiah was prescribed medications to help. Even that only seemed to get him to poop every three days or so it was better than five! The source of his choking was determined to be acid reflux. The remedy for that was a bit of rice cereal mixed in some breast milk. In the meantime I changed my entire diet just in case it might help. It didn’t, lol, but it was worth a shot.
After about 2 months everything shifted in a wonderful way when he started teething. Teething equals extra saliva and the extra saliva he was swallowing seemed to do the trick. He started pooping again daily. Now he poops a whopping 2-3 times a day and I couldn’t be giddier. The choking stopped just as abruptly as it had started and he was no longer jaundiced. Its funny the simple things that bring you joy. His first smile, first laugh, first word and on and on and on. Watching him grow and change has been so amazing. Seeing him interact with his siblings and be perfectly comfortable and content in our home is like icing on the cake.
The older he gets the more adventurous he becomes. Meanwhile I’m just trying to anchor and nail down everything that I can within reason. He has no boundaries on his heart or his mind, so my goal is to teach him to exercise caution and thoughtful consideration of his choices. Of course for right now I’m just trying to figure out how to keep him off the table and from taking out my outlet covers.
I asked the Lord to help me stay home with Josiah the first year. Initially I did not want to work at all. Later I decided to work just a few hours a week. Not enough to miss all those firsts or be financially comfortable, but enough to pay some bills and not drown. When it comes to work I’m used to doing it and being there. Long days/nights 6-7 days a week. All standard operating procedure for me with work because it has always been a means to an end. This year though I had to consistently remind myself that taking care of my children emotionally was just as important as supporting them financially, so I wouldn’t kick myself into overdrive.
Each time I found myself worried or anxious God would bring to my mind Philippians 4:6. ‘Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God(NIV)’. Everything that we needed was provided in various ways. Little things like diapers being on sale everytime I needed them. Or larger things like a car to drive for free for three months when mine became inoperable.
The only thing that was still missing was his dad. This was probably the hardest part for me. I honestly don’t know how I avoided depression, or maybe I didn’t; there just wasn’t anyone to diagnosis my moments of psychosis. I’ve laughed, cried, cursed, and at times felt worthless and hopeless as a mom for bringing a child into these circumstances. I have swallowed my pride and even kissed a little ass hoping that would change. See back when I was relaxing into Choosing Josiah, his father wasn’t. While we mutually decided to terminate the pregnancy, I later made a solo decision to scrap that plan and move forward. What I didn’t recognize initially was that in that moment I was choosing between them.
Now I didn’t do so without hesitation or with delusions of grandeur. I never looked at Josiah like he could be glue or extra reinforcement to our relationship. I was clearly head over heels, but I had my doubts about where exactly he was. The fact that I had doubts should have been sufficient. He admitted to having feelings for me but were they the long-term, I’ll fight the world for you type feelings? I gave myself a reasonable deadline to assess the situation, my feelings and all. In the end they were not but I was already pregnant when I finally understood that. Unfortunately I did not remove sex from the table which ultimately probably would have ushered our stance into a friendship much quicker, and with much less animosity. Instead after almost 4 years he abruptly left without seemingly so much as a second thought for Josiah or I.
Since that time I have struggled with my expectations on his level of responsibility. Certainly we both had a part in him being here. We also both had the opportunity to use preventative measures to ensure we did not become parents together. Due to some prior liver concerns birth control was not an option. Condoms, abstinence, rhythm method, hell even plan B were all still on the table. But in the end we chose not to exercise caution and well, babies happen. I’ve heard on multiple ends that he should be paying child support which he is not currently. But what level of accountability do you hold a man to that did not want another child? Furthermore what level of accountability does he have if his reasoning is related to some deficiencies, he is wise enough to acknowledge, in his own mental health.
If the shoe was on the other foot, and I aborted a baby he wanted to keep where is the reciprocity for him? The only maybe option is a civil suit for the emotional damage he may have endured behind my actions, but I digress. Is he, should he be responsible? I think the saddest thing is that this is a valid question in today’s society. That we can honestly debate who’s at fault over the birth of a child like we do a car accident.
After months of internal struggle I finally learned to give that battle, process or whatever it is over to the Lord as well. Since then He has shown me how, it’s really hard to miss what you never knew you had. As crass as that may sound Josiah is only 1. The complete absence of his father’s presence at this age is not enough to have a negative impact. He is happy, thriving, and for now oblivious to the concept of what a dad even is. Even though he’s in house full of women with the exception of the weekends his big brother is home, he’s just as rough and rugged as any other little boy. If you asked him he’d probably tell you he’s the king of this jungle and he’s got the strut to almost prove it.
I am confident that if and when his father comes into his life it will be God’s perfect timing. I also know that he may never come but that’s okay. Psalm 139 encourages me because ‘For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.’ My son is fearfully and wonderfully made. There was no mistake or accident here. I know that God does not leave holes or gaps and in His time, if not Josiah’s biological father, then someone else will stand in the gap. Quite recently his dad alluded to his plan to come see him sometime in the future. 365 days have already passed without them meeting each other but there is no time like the present. In the meantime I’m home alone with my hands and my heart full raising Josiah.
