My Son is Doc McStuffins for Halloween and it Means Nothing…and Everything

Last week I took my 3 year old son to pick out a Halloween costume. After looking at all of the costumes he seemed to settle on Spiderman. As we walked to pay, he spotted a Doc McStuffins costume and insisted he wanted to be that instead. I pulled it out of the bag and tried it on him and the biggest smile appeared. He then refused to take it off. I asked him if he wanted to be a doctor and if so, we could go look at the other doctor costumes and he said “No, I Doc McStuffins”. So after putting the headband on him (because the outfit isn’t complete without the headband apparently) we paid for the costume and went home.

I posted a photo of him in his costume and a few friends commented on how great it was that I was allowing him to be himself and not forcing him to conform to society’s expectations for boy costumes. While I understand completely where the comments are coming from, it got me thinking: If he was a girl and chose to go as Spiderman, would it be such a big deal? I have read so many articles about how unfair the Halloween market is for little girls. The boys have so many professions to choose from but girls have few and the few overly sexualize little girls. But the reality is, we spend so much time telling little girls they can be anything and do anything boys can do -which they can- and no one makes assumptions about their future selves. But when little boys choose to do something that is traditionally seen as feminine society starts questioning their sexuality and gender identity. Which is ridiculous at best and offensive and inappropriate at worst because he is 3. He is choosing to be Doc McStuffins on a holiday that allows everyone to transform into something or someone else. His costume choice implies nothing of his future self.

Had I told my son that he couldn’t get the Doc McStuffins costume because it was a “girl” costume, other than making me vomit for say it, it wouldn’t have made a difference. He has no idea what that means. We have never gender labeled toys or activities and he has never heard “no you can’t play with that, it is a girl toy” from either myself or his dad. He has a toy kitchen, a baby doll, and doll house along with a million cars, trucks, sports equipment, and trains (seriously, he has too many toys!).

While I am completely fine allowing my son to wear a typically female costume this Halloween, I am still filled with anxiety because of it. I have seen how some people react to similar things and it makes me afraid for my son. He has never met a person he doesn’t like and calls everyone his friend. His heart is full of love for everyone and I don’t want to see it get broken by the cruelty of others. But these are my fears, not his. He has never witnessed such cruelty. All he knows is that his costume makes him feel great and his already strong confidence is lifted even higher while wearing it…and that means everything.  

"Mommy, Where Heaven at?"

        A few weeks ago my family and I were at Olive Garden celebrating what would have been my father’s 65^th birthday. My 3 year old was excited to celebrate “Bampa Gim’s birfday”. When we arrived, he was confused as to why Grandpa Jim wasn’t there. (Let us not forget that my father died 7 years before my son was born). I explained once again that Grandpa Jim was in Heaven, so we have to celebrate his birthday without him. While still confused, he seemed to accept it and moved on. Except to tell everyone he saw it was “Bampa Gim’s Birfday”. As we were packing up to leave, he once again asked where Grandpa Jim was. I told him he was in Heaven, to which my son cocked his head to the side and replied with a smile “Go see him?!” I explained we couldn’t go see him because he was in Heaven. “But, why Mommy, why?!” was his response. “Because when people go to Heaven, we can’t see them anymore”. He paused for a moment, thinking and with the innocence of a child he hit me with   “Mommy, where Heaven at?” Thankfully he didn’t notice my lack of answer and like all three year olds, he was easily distracted by something shiny. Because I didn’t have an answer. Because I didn’t know where heaven was at. It is a question I have been asking since the day my father suddenly and unexpectedly died 10 years ago and one that was renewed when my mother passed away 3 years later.

        Last week Stephen Hawking released new information regarding black holes. He hypothesizes that black holes are not bottomless pits in which all matter is destroyed. Through his voice synthesizer he stated “black holes might also be passages to other universes – but with a caveat. Anyone who enters one wouldn’t be able to come back to our universe” (ABC News). I believe it is possible then that black holes are actually passage ways to Heaven. That our souls are not destroyed upon death, but in fact travel through space and time, and with this new information, black holes serve as the doorways to Heaven.  

        I have found myself thinking a lot about my son’s question the past few weeks. Trying to come up with an answer that will satisfy his curiosity when he decides to ask me again. Every night when I put my boys to bed, I tell them I love them to the edge of the universe and back. When my son decides to ask me again “Mommy, where Heaven at?” I will look him in the eyes and tell him, “Heaven is on the other side of the edge of the universe. Black holes are just a short cut to the edge”.

Baby Boy Born Blue

It has taken me a while to write this post. Nearly 9 months to be exact. Partly because being a mom of 2 is a lot more time consuming than being a mom of one. Mostly it is because it deals with trauma that is still very real to me, despite how I act on the outside. 

It was Happening Again
I thought I had done everything right. I lost weight, Matthew was conceived without the aid of fertility drugs. This was my second pregnancy and I was being watched carefully by a team of doctors. By all accounts, my risks for pre-eclampsia were lower than they were with Jayden. Starting around 30 weeks I started experiencing blood pressure fluctuations. I spent a lot of time going back and forth between the doctor’s office and labor and delivery to be monitored. Each time they told me I was fine. I knew they thought I was overreacting because of my experiences with my first pregnancy. They should have listened to me. They should have done something. Perhaps if they did, my sweet little boy would not have been born blue. 
I kept asking for steroids for his lungs. I knew in my heart he would not make it to 39 weeks. They told me he was fine and he would indeed make it to term. I should have pushed harder. My MFM doctor said he would have a low threshold for giving me the steroids given my history and we would discuss it at my next appointment. Unfortunately he experienced a family emergency and was unable to be at my appointment. The doctor who covered for him did not have the same threshold. Therefore he did not receive steroids to speed up the development of his lungs. 
On July 18th, I went back to labor and delivery for a reoccurring headache and high blood pressure.  I was 34 weeks and 2 days. I was monitored and sent home on modified bedrest. Over the weekend my headache got worse and so did my blood pressure. By Monday morning I was in tears from the pain.  I called my doctor's office and they told me to get there as soon as I could. After finding a sitter, I left for the appointment. 
All Hell Breaks Loose
At my appointment I was quickly taken back for a blood pressure check and a non-stress test. A short while later they informed me I was going to be sent to labor and delivery for additional monitoring. Once there, my blood pressure was still high and rising. The doctor came in and informed me that the criteria for diagnosing severe preeclampsia had changed and that despite not having protein in my urine, my increasing blood pressure combined with my horrific headache was enough to make the diagnosis and I would be delivering my child that night. At that point I asked when I would be given the steroids. She informed me they no longer give steroids past 34 weeks. I was 34 weeks and 6 days. My heart shattered. I know from experience how important those steroids are. I begged for them for weeks. And now they were telling me it was too late, but he would be fine. He was far enough along and that his lungs would be fine. They couldn't have been more wrong. To say I was angry is an understatement. I am still angry.  I tried to remain calm when relaying this information to my husband who was still at work. The doctors "graciously" gave me enough time to line up a night sitter so my husband could attend the birth of our second son.

3 Hours shy of 35 weeks
I asked to speak with a NICU staff member before my c-section. I was informed that since he would be born a few hours shy of 35 weeks, he would automatically be taken to the NICU for observation, but they were expecting he would be back with me quickly. I learned later that the nurses were even discussing how to forge the time so that he could be given the chance to prove himself with me in my postpartum room. None of them were expecting the complications that were about to arise. 
Go Time
My husband finally arrived in time to gown up and wait while they prepped me for surgery. Thankfully the anesthesiologist inserted the spinal on the first try. I was then laid back on the operating table and waited. My legs became numb quickly but when the doctor tested to see if my abdomen was numb, I jumped. It was not. I started to panic. I don't even want to know what my blood pressure was at that point. The anesthesiologist said he would wait 5 more minutes to see if it took effect, otherwise he would put me under general. 5 minutes later I still wasn't numb and the last thing I remember is the mask going over my face. 
Baby Boy Born Blue 
I woke up in recovery with my husband sitting next to me. I immediately asked him how our baby was. I was told that Matthew Walter arrived at 9:19 pm but there were complications and he was intubated. It was if I had been sucker punched. I didn't understand. Before going into surgery, they were talking about him being able to be in my room after recovery. How the hell did this happen? The neonatologist informed me that it took a lot longer to get Matthew out than they expected and because of that he received too much anesthesia and combined with his prematurity, he wasn't breathing on his own. Upon delivery he was blue and floppy and his one minute APGAR was 1. They had to begin chest compressions because his heart rate was very low. He responded to the intubation and compressions and his 5 minute APGAR was 6. He was being transferred to the NICU. The place I worked so hard to keep him from every having to go. 
My Heart Aches
It has been 9 months since Matthew entered this world. I worked so hard to get him to term, but ultimately my body failed once again. After battling pre-eclampsia twice and post-partum preeclampsia this last pregnancy, I was told I should be done having children. That my chances of having Pre-E again were 100% and my survival was not guaranteed. So if I don't comment on the photo of you holding your newborn a few minutes after being born, please don't think I am anything but happy for you. If when you are talking about your birth experience and you see pain behind my smile, do not think I am anything but happy for you. The pain stems from sadness and guilt over not being able to carry my babies to term. The photos I see in my news feed are beautiful, but my heart aches when seeing them. The first photos I have of my boys are of them hooked to machines to finish doing what I failed to do. It is my hope that one day I will be able to make peace with the past. To quote my favorite TV show The West Wing “The goal is to be able to remember the past without reliving it”.  In the meantime, I will continue to hold my boys tightly and love them fiercely to the edge of the universe and back. 

Matthew Walter Sommer 7.21.2014 5 lbs 17.75 inches

Matthew Homecoming Day 8/4/2014

Matthew 6 months old February 2015