Birthday Boy

Birthdays are a big deal to me and celebrating my children's birthday is one of my favorite things to do. I want my children to feel delighted in and celebrated just because they are alive. One way I like to do that is having a lot of fun with their birthdays (at least for as long as I can while they are young). I'm not saying it has to be BIG or expensive but I try to make it meaningful and plan thoughtfully. 

So today, June 25, at 8:57 a.m., my first born, my son, turned five. He woke up with his door decorated with firetruck and dalmatian dog crepe paper and his first (mini) gift waiting for him at the top of stairs. Then he got to search the house for 10 other little gifts hiding throughout the house (matchbox car, stickers, art supplies, etc.). Baby sister had been up very early this morning so she went down early for her morning nap and then didn't wake up til after 9 a.m. which was a nice way for birthday boy and Mommy to have some alone time together. And this year, his birthday fell on garbage pick up day so he got a special birthday honk from the garbage man :) Then a special happy birthday call from his "G" which lasted only a few moments and then he said, "thanks for calling, goodbye." :)

One of my favorite birthday traditions is taking the kid's "time of birth" picture and talking about when they were born. Birthday boy doesn't really ask any questions yet but he actually sits still for five minutes and listens so I can't really ask for much more. :) He requested sausage and eggs for breakfast so I served it up on a special Lego fireman plate and cup, which is so fun (and easy) to bring wonder to his face that Momma did these things ahead of time without him knowing about it. Of course, following breakfast there's birthday burps, which makes baby sister crack up. For some reason, she thinks it's so funny to hear a burp or a fart. I don't think she's going to be a "girlie-girl"  :)

When I ask the birthday boy what he wants to do today - go to the beach, the park, take a walk, see the boats on the lake, etc., he says he just wants to play at home today. Such a homebody like his Momma. It's his sister who is always bringing me her shoes and brother's shoes and Momma's shoes so we will go play outside. So birthday boy starts playing with a new birthday toy, which of course, his sister wants to play with as well, which leads to pushing his sister which leads to his first birthday timeout - now being 5 years old, is 5 minutes long. Actually, we don't really do timeouts much anymore but this morning he really did need some time apart to get control of his body so yes, he called it his first birthday timeout.

Baby sister brought us our shoes so we went for a walk and invited the neighbors to his birthday party this weekend, which resulted in lots of birthday hugs. Then Grams came to visit with gifts and happy birthday wishes and whenever Grams visits, there's always snuggle time on the sofa reading books together. Then his G arrived and we walked up the street for ice cream. Back home, we played on the front porch with their water play table and I made a birthday dinner, which he wanted hamburgers and steak fries and peas and chocolate pudding. 

One of my favorite things about my son is our conversations. During dinner, he asked me how different he is now that he's 5 (for a day, ha!) But it led to a fun conversation about how he's grown and changed this past year - he's taller, less fearful, there's more things he can do for himself; he's more comfortable with his peers rather than just wanting to hang out with adults. He is less shy and more comfortable in new situations, learning to be more assertive and stand up for himself. I see him having grown so much this past year - in body, heart, mind and soul. And as his Momma, so have I.

After putting baby sister to bed, birthday boy and I read a few new birthday books he got and then he opened a last "bedtime present" which was a book light and a new favorite book, "Even Firefighters Go To The Potty." Oh boy, that brought on much silliness, but totally worth it. 

Throughout the day there was much talk about wanting "more presents" which perhaps was my fault, brought on by stretching out his gifts throughout the day but definitely some heart and attitude to work on with him. We ended his birthday by looking at some of his newborn baby pics and after several times of him getting out of bed (evidently that hasn't changed from age 4) he is now sleeping off all the birthday fun. It was quite a relaxing and peaceful day. I am so grateful for the gift of my son. I love being his Mommy. There has been much growth for me this past year as well. He keeps me on my toes, keeps me accountable for the things I say and do; he has helped me come out of my shell around strangers and the people we meet when we're out and about. He brings so much fun and laughter and joy (and mess and noise and much patience required) to our days. He gets me singing and dancing with him throughout our (sometimes) long days together. And these days, how precious they are with school on the horizon. Big changes ahead.

Son, my son, I loved having this lazy, playful, fun, peaceful day with you and your sister. You are so loved and enjoyed - not just by your momma, but your daddy and your sister and family and friends and many many others who come in contact with you. I love who you are. Always. No matter what. Looking forward to continuing to celebrate you with friends and family this week.

For Such a Moment As This

She woke with a fever but by afternoon she was perking up. It was a warm and sunny day so we decided to play in the backyard. After playing with the water table for awhile she wanted some milk. We sat on the grass and nursing her, I became keenly aware that we were having a moment. I hope you know what I mean by having a moment because that means you get to have such moments too. This was a moment that I knew was going to stand out from all other moments as I lay in bed at the close of the day and reflected back. A moment where time stood still and I could b-r-e-a-t-h-e out and rest into the moment and take it all in. A moment I knew I would want to write about later to capture. For I find that if I notice such moments, it will last longer. Above us the laundry was billowing on the clothes line, the trees were swaying a summer dance, their green leaves blowing, the blue sky cloudless. In the background, my son was playing with his dump truck and digging in the sandbox. And I thought, capture this moment. Now. And later with words. I know my daughter will not remember this moment - this exact moment (memory) of such peace and calm and stillness that perhaps stands out so much because of how rare it is admist the usual noise and mess and (semi) controlled chaos of these days with two small children. But baby girl, may this moment be an overall feeling you remember from childhood. That you are safe and "quieted by my love". An overall feeling I remember of being in my mother's arms as a baby. I gulp in these moments when they come. They're happening more and more these days. Or perhaps I'm just more aware, more open to receive them. And then let them go, for I know there will be more.

Prayers for tomorrow

My prayer as I fall asleep tonight...

I want to be a better Mommy tomorrow.
I will be patient and not raise my voice. I will take deep breaths. I will not react in anger.
I will laugh more and play on the floor with my children. I will look them in the eye and give them my attention.
I will be present and intentional.
I will make the time and effort to feed them healthy foods.
I will forgive myself and be gracious with myself.

Help me be mindful of these things throughout my day.
Thank you for these precious children you have entrusted to Rob and me.
Help me be the kind of Mommy I want to be tomorrow.
One day at a time.

I want to be better with my eating/exercise tomorrow.
I will not drink soda.
I will not eat fast food.
I will be mindful of the foods I put in my body.
I will treat my body kindly.
I will make time to exercise.
I will be a better example to my children with healthy eating and a more active lifestyle.
I will not live for the moment but with my ultimate healthy goal in mind.

Help me be mindful of these things tomorrow.
Thank you for this body you have given me.
Help me be the kind of healthy woman I want to be tomorrow.
One day at a time.

Renovations

Today has not been a good day. Today I have not been the kind of Mommy I want to be for my kids. I have been tired, irritable, impatient. I had a hard time enjoying my kids today and that never feels good.

My husband is doing some renovations to our house so we've been living elsewhere for the past 4 days. I didn't realize how much that would affect me - and the kids. It's hard to stick to routines when not living at home. I haven't been exercising, haven't been eating as healthy as I'd like, haven't been sleeping well in an unfamiliar bed.

My 4 year old is missing home (and time with Daddy). This afternoon, after being locked out of the place we are staying (definitely part of the "not a good day"), after my initial frustration, the thought occurred to me, this could be SO much worse. What if one of my children were still inside while I'm locked out?! While my phone and purse were inside, I was grateful to have (both children) and my car keys with me. That enabled me to drive home, where my husband was working on the house, to use his phone to inquire about a spare key. After we figured out where the spare key was located, both kids back in the car, I'm driving back to find the spare key when from the backseat I hear my son crying saying how he misses Daddy and just wants to be home. "I have plans," I hear him say, tearfully. His sweet, wistful words makes me smile through my own tears. "I know, honey," I tell him. "I'm sad too. I miss Daddy too and just want to be home.

We got through the day and made it to dinner time. Can't wait for this day to be over. Hoping tomorrow will be better. I had been praying throughout the day that God would change my grumpy mood; that He would help me to be a better mommy than I have been today... but the day was continuing to be a struggle.

So my kids and I are eating dinner when out of nowhere, I start singing. This is nothing new or startling for my kids. I'm always singing. Although, not today. So for me, it's a little startling that I'm singing and mostly what I'm singing. I'm singing a song from my childhood... "This is the day, this is day, that the Lord has made. We will rejoice, we will rejoice and be glad in it. For this is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it..." Where did that come from? I am certainly not feeling like rejoicing or being glad about this day. And yet, this is what came to mind, and is coming out of my mouth (if not my heart). But guess what, I'm starting to feel it. Still tired. Still irritable. Still impatient. Still longing for a break, for quiet, for forgiveness for this not so good mommy day. But singing feels good. And there's a little more laughter, more smiles, more peace in the house as we close this day together. (despite the fact that my son is jumping on the bed rather than going to sleep...)

I guess God did answer my prayer.

Two more days til we get to go home. Anne of Green Gables reminds me, "Tomorrow is a new day; fresh, with no mistakes."

But for today...

The kids are growing up right before my eyes. I look at my son now and see how tall he's becoming. And my baby girl is wearing jeans! :) For now I get to hold them and protect them but one by one as they continue to grow they will move away from me – toward independence, toward their interests, their friends, their dreams for this life. But for now, right now, I get to hold them. Every chance I get. So, I'll read to you your favorite book 5 times in a row, I'll say yes when you ask me to play with you, I'll listen attentively, I'll clean the bathroom several times a day cuz if I don't it smells like little boy pee; I'll sing to you more, rock you more, get down on the floor to play with you more; I'll take you back to bed over and over and over (but I still may get frustrated about that), and tuck you in each time "snug as a bug in a rug"; I'll listen to your favorite Backyardigans and Winnie the Pooh music when we're in the car together; I'll wrestle with you to get your teeth brushed; I'll get out of bed way earlier than I want to and go to bed way later than I want to, and come when you cry for me in the night, as many times as you need me. Because that's what it means to be your Mommy these days. And I am so grateful. Tomorrow I'll get to exercise more, write more, read more, sleep more, shower more, run errands alone, talk uninterrupted with loved ones, have some peace and quiet and a cleaner house. And tomorrow I will miss these sweet, busy, exhausting, messy, noisy, sacred, playful, frustrating, joyful, precious, some days, very long days.

4 years

Happy birthday, my dear boy. You are four now, which means, your timeouts are now 4 minutes long... I say that because you can be quite naughty these days... overflowing sinks, flushing things down the toilet that are not meant for the toilet, sitting in the pantry with the door closed, eating treats, yelling to wake your sister, etc. We find you saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" a lot, though I don't think you quite understand the meaning of those words. And yet, at the same time, you are still our sweet, loving, giving boy... you love your sister so much and (for the most part) are so caring and gentle with her - wanting to give her lots of hugs and kisses and wanting to hold her (for just a couple minutes, then you're done...) and help with her bath and changing her diaper. And she just adores you. She loves watching you and you can make her laugh like no one else can.

Your imagination and creativity have really taken off this year - you are always talking about your imaginary friends and acting out the books we read. Every day you are suiting up to fight fires and riding your policeman motorcycle up the stairs upon waking in the morning. And you are so funny - the things you say... You fill our home with such laughter and joy and play and NOISE and MESS! You are always singing and dancing. It's pretty much a musical in our house...

What a dear, dear boy you are to us. Our first born. You took my breath away the morning you were born and they pulled you out of my belly and you are still taking my breath away today with your humor and your laugh and your play and creativity and your NOISE and when I hear your precious voice calling for me. You are becoming more confident and assertive around kids your age and though you still complain that you don't want to go to preschool, you usually burst through the door, into our house at the end of the day, saying what a great day you had at school.

You are so loved. You don't always let me hug and kiss you these days (often you want me to "steal" a hug and a kiss) but you still love the tickle monster and love to snuggle in mommy and daddy's bed in the morning to watch cartoons. And you love being home with Mommy and Daddy and your baby sister.

I am so proud and grateful to be your Momma. You will always, always have my heart. I've said it often and will say it again, I will never, ever stop loving you, no matter what. And you always say, "never ever? no matter what?" And you've just started saying to me, "I'll never stop loving you, Momma."

You are a delight, my son. Keep singing and dancing your way through life. love, love, love you.

The power of presence

I was rocking my baby girl earlier this evening. She had been crying, overtired, having a hard time settling down. Rocking her was finally calming her. Her body was getting still and heavy against mine. I looked down, expecting to see her eyes closed, and was surprised to see them wide open! I was impatient, my mind racing with all the things I needed and wanted to do this evening - clean, conversations with my husband, check facebook, work on birth announcements, write thank you notes, eat cookies, read, etc. And yet here she was, still awake and yet so content, so relaxed just being rocked in my arms. How far away I've been from you, my little girl. When this is what matters. You are what matters. Right here and right now is the only place I need to be - want to be - for as long as you need it.

This week she is 6 weeks. Before I know it, she will be 6 months, 6 years, 16 years (Lord help me with the teenage years!) And I will long for these early weeks of rocking and holding and nursing and the warmth and closeness they provide for both of us. Looking down at my daughter again, this time her eyes were closed. But this time, I wasn't in a hurry to stop rocking her and put her to bed. What a gift to rock this warm, snuggly, relaxed little one. Another one that I have been entrusted with - with their life, their heart, their soul. I am reminded how important it is to be present with this little one, to allow her and our time together to affect me. To allow the rocking to calm me, silence my racing thoughts, and put me more in touch with the precious gift of right now. How important it is to give that to not only our children but to all of our loved ones, for as long as they need it.

birth story

It's been a month since my daughter's birth. I am pain-free, and seemingly, recovered and healed from my 45 + hours of labor that ended in a C-section. Physically there only remains a scar from my incision. Mentally, emotionally, and psychologically, I'm just beginning to to process her birth...

I begin with gratitude. There's so much for me to be grateful for. I am grateful I got to go into labor on my own. After 41 ½ weeks, I didn't think it was EVER going to happen. It began around 3 a.m. on Sunday morning, January 16. After having weeks of braxton hicks, I knew this was the real deal. My husband and son were asleep. The house was quiet and dark. I paced around the house, rocked in the chair my dad rocked me in when I was a baby. The same one I now rock and comfort my babies in. I ate. I prayed. Labor had begun and it was just baby and me in the wee hours of the morning. It was a peaceful time of anticipation. A beautiful way to begin.

Contractions continued to get more powerful and closer together. My inlaws came to get my son around 9 a.m. and we headed to a dear friend's house who had opened her home to us to labor in until I was ready to go to the hospital. Being about 45 minutes from the hospital, I didn't want to be so far away and have to take a long car ride in the throes of intense labor. We headed to her house, about 10 minutes from the hospital, arriving around 10:30 a.m. I labored there all day.

We headed to the hospital around 11 p.m. I was 90 % effaced and 2 centimeters dilated. Only 2 centimeters! But I was happy to be almost fully effaced. All those hours were not for naught. I was progressing.

I am so grateful for my husband and my doula's presence while I was laboring at the hospital. Nurses came and went, checking the fetal monitor strapped to my stomach for baby's heartbeat and my contractions. I was able to wear a unit that allowed me to be up and around so I was grateful for that but it kept falling off and nurses kept coming in to reposition, fussing with me even during contractions. But it was my husband and my doula that got me through the pain – their hands, their words, their constant presence. I was afraid of being alone with the pain but the entire 45 hours, one or both of them were always with me.

By that evening, I was fully effaced and 5 centimeters dilated. But then I stopped progressing. Perhaps due to exhaustion? Perhaps due to baby's position? I guess I will never know for sure. Baby was doing fine, I was doing fine (getting 2nd 3rd 4th 5th winds) so my doctor would make suggestions (break waters, pitocin, c-section, etc) but he let me decide each next step I wanted to take. Mostly I wanted to wait and see. After a couple more hours of not only no progress but my contractions getting further apart, I decided to get pitocin to speed up the contractions and an epidural for some pain relief. I was looking forward to maybe a couple hours of rest. But despite the interventions, I was still not progressing. The doctor broke my waters and still no progress. Baby's head was not moving down further into the birth canal. Thinking back on it now, I wish I had thought to ask "why?" It never went further than the fact, well, you aren't progressing. I didn't think to ask, well, why and is there anything we can do about it. Was it the baby's position? Was it because her head was not dropping? So, around 1 a.m. I opted for the recommended C-section and I was at peace. After 45 hours of labor, it was time to meet my baby and hold her in my arms. Once I made the decision there was no turning back and I was excited to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

I felt a tremendous amount of pressure as they pulled her out of my tummy. Then my husband said, "It's a girl!" She let out a wail and I was overjoyed that she was here and our laboring onto birth was finally finished. Although now, our laboring onto life has just begun...

Now, a month later, I'm still at peace with the c-section but as the fog of recovery and sleep deprivation is lifting there is sadness. Perhaps I needed to first physically recover from the birth before I could deal with recovering emotionally. My questions remain but not in a haunting way. I'm not dwelling on it but I allow myself some time to wonder and grieve and question... why did I labor so long? Why did I stop progressing? Was there anything else I could have done? Knowing there probably aren't any answers. Knowing how the length of labor at that point was affecting all of us. So I ended where I began – so grateful. Grateful to have a beautiful, healthy daughter, in my arms as I write this. That's probably how every great story is lived out – with a mixture of excitement, anticipation, hope, trial and labor, tears and blood, disappointment, peace, wonder, questioning, sadness, gratitude, beauty, joy, and new life.

Welcome to our family, baby girl! Mommy, daddy and big brother are delighted you are FINALLY here!

Trusting

Today marks 6 days beyond my due date. I am grateful to friends and family who have shared with me their birth stories of perfectly healthy late arrivals, despite my doctor saying I have now entered into “non-standard care” because I am late and not having a C-section.

It feels unreal that this is ever going to happen. Hospital bag is packed. My son's bag is packed to stay with his grandparents. And realistically I know that baby won't stay in my belly forever. At some point here, very soon, I will no longer be pregnant and perhaps this will be my last pregnancy. While I'm eager to meet our son or daughter, I am content to still be pregnant. I am grateful that I am feeling so well, even to the end here. Sure, I'm not sleeping very well and am feeling uncomfortable, but all in all, I am doing well. So it is fear that causes me to worry as each day passes beyond my due date and baby has not come yet. Fear that my body is failing me and I'll end up having to have a C-section. Fear that I will lose the baby the longer he/she is in my belly. Fear that I have to consciously not allow to get out of control. Fear that I am fighting with peace and trust. I know that this is a precious time right now that I won't ever have back and I don't want to miss out because I am eager to get on to what's next. So I remind myself to trust – trust that my baby knows when he/she is ready to be born. Trust that the birth process can be a gradual one and that I've already entered into it by having these stop and start contractions for a week now. Trust that despite my doctor saying there's nothing going on because I don't have any dilation yet, and the baby's head should be in the birth canal by now, in actuality, my body has been doing a tremendous amount of preparing this past week. Trust that my body knows what to do and in fact, is already doing it and will continue to until my baby is born. Trust that my baby will be fine and while it's good to continue to monitor the baby to ensure that my womb continues to be a good environment for baby, I don't need to be frightened by my doctor's scare tactics.

So I wait and rest and enjoy my family today for I don't know what tomorrow brings. Today I am grateful to be pregnant... to be "still pregnant"

What I will miss about pregnancy

1.my husband putting on my socks and shoes (and our son trying to help)
2.feeling the baby move
3.not worrying about my weight for 9 months
4.sleeping with four pillows while my husband gets one.
5.After pregnancy, it won't be so cute for my son to tell me that I have a big belly...
6.wearing a t-shirt in the winter (great time of year to be pregnant!)
7.cute comfortable maternity clothes
8.Not feeling guilty about resting
9.freaking miracle that a human is growing inside of me!!!!
10.the gallons and gallons of milk I go through (my husband will not miss this). I drank so much milk when pregnant with my son as well.
11.Feeling my body preparing for birth (didn't experience any labor with first as he was a scheduled C-section a week before his due date)
12.this precious time of peace, stillness, anticipation and putting the world on hold for a bit

Past and Present

I used to be...

a gymnast

a runner

desperate

searching

passionate

holding on

at arms length

fearful

unseen beauty

a storyteller

manipulative

demanding

hungry

thin

sad

stuck in the past

expressive

a dancer

intense

clutching

Now I am...

coming out from hiding

hopeful

becoming

at peace

a runner starting over

a writer whose words have been unread for too long now

losing weight

fearful of the final finish line

forever changed by the birth of my son

a mother: a role that can never be undone but sometimes leaves me feeling undone

grateful

missing

envious

looking forward

a photographer

blessed

dancing with a limp

a counselor

deep

letting go

little hands, big heart

I dropped my son off at his grandparents this morning on my way to work. As I'm driving away I look back at the front door and there is my son watching me leave - waving to me, blowing me kisses. He's not crying. He's not sad. He's just saying goodbye. And I know that when he can't see me anymore he will be perfectly happy and will just go back to playing with his beloved grandparents. But in that moment, at the door, as I wave back to him and blow kisses back to him, I realize how much I MATTER to my son. Not only does he hold my Momma heart in his hands, I hold his little boy heart in my hands. This love between my son and I is like nothing I've ever experienced before. It's both terrifying and awesome to be THAT important to another... This whole other who grew inside my tummy; who I had to let go after all those months, so he could be born and live and breath on his own. Every day since there is a letting go. But this morning... I got to hold on as we said goodbye. Such a heavy, precious weight his heart is in my hands.

Letting go and finding peace

I remember feeling a definite shift in my heart as soon as I realized I was pregnant with our first child. For years I had struggled with living in the past and wanted to let it go and move on but still felt so tied to such disappointment, loss, regret, and lack of closure that left me agitated and restless. But then I became pregnant and the past fell off my shoulders. My body was changing and preparing for this new life inside of me. My heart and my mind were preparing for this new life ahead of me. I became much more present-focused (my changing body and feeling the baby moving inside of me) and future-focused (I couldn't wait to see what my baby would look like and hold him in my arms.) Now my son is 2 years old and I haven't looked back. Not in such a way as to forget my past or to be unaffected by my past but I am open and willing for NOW to matter so much more and to take up so much more space in my heart. Perhaps becoming a mom and discovering this different kind of love I've never experienced before has freed my heart. It's freed my heart to love my husband more freely and fiercely as well. And as a result, I'm so much more full of life and content. Perhaps through time, I've also become more at peace with the past. Something I have learned - much like gratitude, healing, and forgiveness - peace can't be forced upon us. Rather - taken under our wing and protected.

Presence and Absence

It is late. Especially for a 2 year old.  Especially for his tired Mommy laying in bed with a migraine. Through the monitor I hear my son singing, jumping, banging his crib against the wall. It's been over two hours and the poor little guy is having a hard time going to sleep. It's been a busy weekend with his birthday party on Saturday and a car show with daddy and grandparents on Sunday. He's not crying. He doesn't need anything from me. In fact, going into his room would make it worse. But the thought occurs to me to pray. I know that God loves and cares for my son even more than I do. Imagine that kind of love. How much has God protected my son, my husband, myself from all that we aren't even aware of? So I pray. I pray that God will lay hands upon my son and calm him and settle his precious, restless body so he can get the sleep he so desperately needs. As I pray, my son goes quiet and still. I don't hear another peep through the monitor until morning.

I don't know what to make of that, and yet, I know my God can be that present. I also know that I've experienced God as more absent than present. After I pray for my son, I pray for myself that God will lay hands upon my head and heal my migraine. But there is no relief. Perhaps it's more important for me to be resting right now, and I know, if it weren't for this migraine, I would not be resting. I'd be up late into the night cleaning or reading or editing photos or blogging, or most likely, on Facebook. I know this is what my body needs right now and I don't always heed that unless I'm forced. I sigh and settle into a long sleepless night with a cold washcloth on my forehead. And then I feel a warm hand cradle the top of my head. It's so real, so comforting I almost cry out. And then it's gone. And isn't that just the way it is with God? As if to say, I'm not always going to take your pain away, but I'm here. Sometimes that's enough. Sometimes it's not.

Seven years ago, I prayed that God would lay his hands on my dad and heal him as he lay paralyzed, unable to speak, dying from brain tumors. I imagine my dad did feel God's hands upon his broken body. I know because my dad was at peace. Yes, there were nights he woke up hyperventilating; he cried in pain, frustration, regret and deep sadness. But in the end, he was at peace. He was ready, no, he was eager to be with his Healer.

He whispers, "I will not take this away. But I am here."

What's next?

Lately I've been feeling restless and uneasy. I'm beginning to feel like I'm just floating along in this life, with no real direction, or purpose or concrete goals that I'm working towards. It's very easy to get caught up in my son's daily routines and in his constant needs that weeks/months pass and I look back and find that I am beginning to fade. It's easy to get caught up in other people's stories so much that I'm not living out my own. That has been a struggle for me all my life. Lately I've gotten lazy and disorganized. These are my biggest stumbling blocks these days. So I'm taking some time to think, to organize, to dream. I've been floating along for too long now. I need to dive in and see what's next.

It goes by so fast

Today I was thinking, I really want to SAVOR this time with my son, for it goes by so fast. There will be a day when he'll be in school all day or he'll be away playing with friends rather than home with Momma. There will be a day when he won't need me in the middle of the night, for a burp, for a drink, for a snuggle. There will be a day when I won't be able to rock him, take his picture (ALL the time!), read him books, push him in the stroller. There will be days when he won't like me so much and won't want to spend the afternoon blowing bubbles, dancing together in the living room, or not doing much of anything but just BEING TOGETHER. My kisses will embarrass him and under NO circumstances will I be allowed in his bedroom. It'll be here before I know it. So today, I am SOAKING up this precious time, for it goes by so fast.

a mother's birthday

So I woke up kinda grumpy on my 32nd birthday this morning. What kind of birthday can I have as mother of a one year old? Last year was different; My son was only 2 months old and I was still in the newborn-honeymoon-stage. But now it's a year later and while I love my son to pieces, I just wanted a day off for my birthday. I kept asking my husband - don't they have "take your child to work" days? No, I guess it wouldn't be appropriate for him to have his toddler with him while he's counseling addicts and felons (he's a rehab counselor). If I can't have the day off for my birthday, I'll try to reason with my son... Son, it's my birthday, you're supposed to lie still when I change your diaper; Son, it's my birthday, you're not supposed to throw your breakfast all over the kitchen floor and walls. Son, didn't Daddy give you the memo? It's my birthday, you're supposed to go right down for your nap, no fuss. I even tried to reason with the kitties... no, Frankie, I'm not letting you outside, which he responded with, "meow, meow, meow, meow, meow" on and on and on and on and annoyingly on until finally I gave in and let him out and told him, "fine, go out, run and frolic and eat grass til you puke but you better not get hit by a car because I don't want a dead cat on my birthday. And while you're out, poop outside because it's my birthday and I don't want to clean the litter box on my birthday.

But as the day went on, something happened inside of me. Rocking my son, reading him books, and holding his snuggly warm body against mine, I thought, what more could I possibly want for my birthday? After his nap I put on my favorite tunes and we danced and danced and danced in the living room. He giggled and I sang and we swayed and twirled and b-bopped (and he burped LOUDLY) until I was too tired to go on. When have I had a dance partner so delighted in me? This is joy.

So tomorrow afternoon, after work, I get some time off. I'm going to Barnes and Noble and getting a yummy treat at the cafe and buying some books for my birthday. I'm really looking forward to it. But I also know, it will be nice to come home to my husband and son. They're the best parts about me. And I'm grateful.

Fear and loss

A woman from my grad school died on Monday. She died from a brain aneurysm. Her name was Allyson and she was days away from turning 34. I didn't know Allyson, as she graduated several years after I did, yet I am deeply affected by her death. Especially by the way she died. Would I feel differently if she had died from a car crash or from an illness? I don't know. A brain aneurysm is so scary to me. Any death is devastating, whether it's sudden or a ticking clock. But this kind of death stirs up a lot of fear in me. It's so random, so sudden, and I fear a similar fate.

I am afraid to die. I'm even afraid to write about this for fear this will be some ironic last post people will read after I'm gone. But I'm not superstitious and in writing this down, I hope I will be able to quiet my mind long enough so I can fall asleep tonight. In dying, I'm not so much afraid of where I'm going but what I'm leaving. Ever since my son was born, I've been afraid that something is going to happen to me and he will be motherless; that I'll be taken from him before he'll be able to know me or remember me. Since my dad died almost five years ago, I've been afraid that other loved ones will be taken from me. Now that I have a son, there's been a shift for me. Yes I fear that I will lose my son or my husband or other family or friends. But for the first time, I fear that I will be taken away.

Death seems so random. Why Allyson? Why my dad? Why someone else's dad or child or sibling? I want death to be logical - you get lung cancer because you smoke. Then there's something I can do about it - I won't smoke. I want control over death - if I eat healthy and exercise, get plenty of sleep, don't get too stressed and wear my seat belt I will be safe. But it doesn't work that way. Death overtakes the healthy and unhealthy, the young and the old and everyone in between. I feel powerless to death. My time will come when it will come. And being God's beloved doesn't give me much comfort. He took my dad. He could take my husband or my son. He could take me. He heals some and not others. Who knows why. Every night I lay my hands on my sleeping husband and my sleeping son and beg God, "please, please protect them - body and mind and heart and soul. Please don't take them from me. Please don't take me from them." I need help to live, without this weight of death on my shoulders.

As a therapist, I have clients who want to die. (Or perhaps better said, see that as their only way out of the tremendous pain they're in.) I have other clients who are afraid to live - really live - in fear of change, pain, loss. This is my struggle as well. And yet, I am so blessed to be in the midst of so much life - my 8 month old son is so full of life! Everyday he teaches me how it is to truly live - without fear, fully engaged and present in each moment, giving his all in everything he does whether it's fighting sleep or trying to crawl or laughing in delight over the kitties or playing and splashing in the bath. He is fully alive in body and spirit and heart and mind. I want that always for him.

My heart goes out to Allyson's family and friends. How devastating. May I live - truly live - with freedom and passion - until it's my time to die. And I will continue to lay my hands on my family and beg God every day.

My conception story (don't worry, it's rated PG)

No one likes to admit that their parents have sex. I'm not sure why but it's a squeamish topic. Like my brother, who chooses to believe that our parents had sex only 5 times in their 30+ year marriage - one time to create each of us kids and one miscarriage. Anymore than that and he has to dissociate and go to his happy place...
(hee hee, love you bro!) :)

I have no idea how my mom and I got onto this topic but she shared with me my conception story the other day. It's such a cool story, I wanted to blog it.

I am the youngest in my family with quite a big age gap between my siblings and myself. My oldest brother and I are 12 years apart, my next brother and I are 10 years apart and my sister and I are 6 years apart. So, I guess you could say, I was unexpected. Welcomed and delighted in, but a "surprise". My mom was 34 years old (believed to be "at risk" back then to be having a baby that "old") and while she had wanted another girl she was happy to have my sister and no plans were made for more kids. God had other plans (I'm so glad!)

My dad had been away on a business trip and called my mom from the airport to tell her that he was on his way home, a day early. A neighbor lady was over for coffee, visiting with my mom and when she heard that Bill was on his way home she stood up, gathered her things to leave and said, "I'm going home right now to pray that you become pregnant tonight!" (She had 7 children herself and really wanted my mom and dad to have more kids.)

Well, my mom is a believer in the power of prayer and her and my dad hadn't discussed the possibility of having more kids. She didn't want to be doing anything behind my dad's back so she doubled up on protection that night. And that night I was conceived. If my dad had come home the next night as planned, who knows... if birth control had been more reliable back then, who knows... I mean come on, I got through two forms of protection! I was determined!

Thanks Mom, for sharing that story with me. It has powerfully affected me. I was prayed into existence. I am meant to be here. I'm even willing to admit my parents had sex to know that story :)

6 months!

My son turned six months on Christmas Day. I can't believe how fast time is flying. We had a great trip to PA to visit my in laws. My son's first plane trip went really good - that was a relief. You just never know...

I am loving my life as a mommy. Everyday I just can't believe that he's actually my son. He's a strong-willed child that's for sure... I can already see we're going to have some challenging days ahead when he's a bit older, but then we did give him an Irish name that means "fiery" so we have no one but ourselves to blame! :) It is truly interesting how that happened though - I fell in love with that name while I was pregnant when I saw it in a magazine. I had no idea who this dear boy was inside of me (although I did have a clue he'd be very active with how active he was in my belly!) And yet the name fits. Pretty cool.

Sorry it's been so long since I've blogged. I've never been good with organizing my time and with my son it's even harder! But that's something I want to get better at this year. I love having a new year ahead of me and the hope and inspiration that gives me. Blessings to you my blogger friends. Thanks for reading.