Fall Beach Photo Shoot

Sometimes the location is perfect but the model (my daughter) is not having it. It was a gorgeous fall afternoon. 70 degrees. Not too windy. Not a cloud in the sky.  After my daughter's 2 hour nap this morning, we had some lunch and then headed to Brucker Beach to take some pictures. A well rested and well fed child usually equals a happy child but not when she's getting four teeth in at once. But she loves playing outside and she loves the beach so I decided to go for it.

Brucker Beach is tucked away at the end of a dead end street in a residential neighborhood. It is never crowded like the state park beaches. And especially this time of year, we usually have the beach to ourselves. Today we only saw two people walking their dogs and the rest of the beach was ours.

It's a perfect location for taking pictures... secluded, lots of beach grass, deadwood makes wonderful places to sit or lean against and then of course, miles and miles of sandy beach along Lake Michigan.

My normally nonstop, running all over the beach, happy little girl was wanting to do nothing but sit on my lap and nurse. Every time I would pick up the camera, she would fuss.

So I stopped and looked around at the beauty all around us and this beauty in my arms. And I told myself, I need to let go of this photo shoot. Maybe I got a few good ones and I need to put the camera down and be in this moment with my daughter. I can't think of a better place to cuddle with my little one, who is normally a whirlwind of motion. With the tug of her hand and a plop down on the sand she was asking me, "be with me, Mommy." So we cuddled and nursed and took in the peace and the breaking waves and the seagulls and the warm sun and the cool breeze.  After awhile she said, "no more" and "bye bye" and I picked her up to walk back to the car. She sang and giggled in my arms, her one arm over my shoulder as she always like to do, patting my back, as we walked back to the car.

I'm sorry it took me so long to understand what you were needing, my girl.

 I loved our time together.

Practice Recess

Sometimes I am amazed by how much my son knows not only what he needs but also how to go about taking care of himself to get those needs met. Today was his day off from school (he goes MWF) so I was surprised when he asked if we could go play at his school playground. I told him that was a great idea but we couldn't go during school hours so how about we go this evening when Daddy gets home from work.

Recess is a struggle for my son (and he gets 3 of them/a day). When we've talked with him about recess he says he doesn't join any of the kids or play on the playground but instead spends the whole time walking around. He has always said that he wasn't necessarily sad during recess so at first I thought he was just using that time to unwind from the noise of lunch and all the stimulation from the day that he's not used to. But it's more than that.

So we went to his playground this evening to practice recess. I am in awe of my son for coming up with this. Tomorrow morning will also be the first morning that I will just be dropping him off on the playground with all the other kids and not walking him to his classroom and staying with him until the bell rings (as he's crying). I don't know who this will be harder on - him or ME! Hopefully me. I realized that I need to be communicating to him through my actions that he can do this - he can find his own way, he can make a friend, and that there are other people out there apart from me who will be there for him and enjoy him, etc. So, just dropping him off will be one way of communicating that to him. But I wanted to use this time at the playground to prepare him for this and walk him through how that will go.

So I said, "I'm going to drop you off here and pray for you and give you a big hug and tell you to have a fun day and see you this afternoon and you will walk this way on the playground to your classroom."

And he said, "I will walk sadly to my room."

So I said, "how about this... even if you're sad, how about you hold your head up high and say hi to the people you walk by and remember that Mommy will be back this afternoon to pick you up and you always have a fun day, even if you're sad."

We'll see.

On the playground he saw that he wasn't too short to get up on the swings and he practiced pumping his legs to swing himself and Daddy taught him how to jump off. And he practiced on the jungle gym, climbing and sliding and swinging on the rings and back again, and played it over and over and said this is what he wanted to do during recess tomorrow. And we talked about what he'll do when other kids are on the jungle gym too.

My daughter and I left early to go home and start dinner while my son and his daddy stayed at the playground. As I drove away, I saw my husband and son sitting on the swings talking and laughing and that image has stayed with me all evening. What an important time this was tonight. I'm so grateful my son asked to do this. I'm hopeful this will make a difference for him tomorrow.

Heavy heart

I'm at a place as a parent where I don't know what to do. Again. It's a bit of a familiar place. Where we live, this is the first year that kindergarten has been changed to all day/every day. That means 5 days/week from basically 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. 7 hour days for 5 year olds. I can't speak for all 5 year olds but my 5 year old is not ready for that. Neither is the boy who works himself up so much when his dad drops him off every morning that he pukes. every morning. The school bell rings to start the school day, the kids line up on the playground and he's puking. This morning the teacher opened the door to puke at the kid's feet and said, "Again?!?"

My kid's not puking but he is sobbing every morning when I walk him to his classroom.

"Why are you so sad?" I ask him.
"I just miss you." he sobs.

And this isn't even kindergarten. This is Young Fives. Which is still all day/every day. However, we have him enrolled all day MWF rather than all five days. I have felt very strongly that my son is not ready for 7 hours of school 5 days a week. He is 5. And I know that there are many kids who have been in daycare and preschool those hours 5 days a week and that this change is wonderful for those parents working full time who don't have to pay for daycare now. But that is not my son. I am so grateful that I can be home with my kids and can choose my own hours with our counseling practice to see clients in the evening when my husband is home. That is important to me and it works for our family. He started preschool at age 2 but he's always been more comfortable and outgoing with adults than kids his own age. Last year was the first time he made a couple friends at preschool and we'd have playdates apart from preschool. He was invited to birthday parties for the first time. And at church, he had a couple friends he would play with.

But adjusting to 3 full days of school has been very sad for my son. We are just starting our 4th week now. The first week went really well. He was excited. He really likes his teacher. The second week, the honeymoon is over. Tiredness is hitting him and the reality of it all is sinking in. "How much longer do I have to go to school, Mommy?" he sobs at drop off. And yet, he doesn't fight it. He's not throwing a tantrum or begging me to take him home. We call it a brave sadness... tears are rolling down his face but he still lines up with the other kids in his class. He's crying but he's still waving goodbye and blowing me kisses.

This has continued for the last couple weeks. One morning we talk about how he has to get through this school if he wants to go to firefighting school. That helped. But still tears goodbye. Another morning, before school we made a get well card for a girl in his class who got hurt and was in the hospital. He really enjoyed this and it brightened his spirits. Come to find out, this girl (Olivia who takes the #11 bus) is an imaginary friend. He had those when he started preschool as well. And still tears goodbye. And I'm ok with the tears. I don't need him to stop crying. If he is sad, I want him to express himself. I'm not crazy about his teacher's way of dealing with it... telling him to stop crying, he's a big boy now, he's 5 years old now. I cringe at her dismissing his feelings and worry what it will do to his heart to be told to stop crying. It goes against everything within my psychologically-trained mind. However, I can see it from her point of view. She's got ten other students (one of them puking). She's got her hands full. But it would only take a second for her to give him a hug. Tell him I'm sorry you're sad. Mom will be back to pick you up this afternoon. Let's go have a fun day...

Another day, my son came home telling me that his teacher told him that if he doesn't cry the next day she has a surprise for him. Well, my son was so excited because he was certain the surprise was a puppy. I give the teacher kuddos for trying but I had mixed feelings about this. If he doesn't cry, he's going to be disappointed the surprise isn't a puppy. And if he does cry, well, he will be upset he didn't get the surprise. It's a bit of a set up. Plus, it's not really getting at the heart of what's going on. Sure it may nip the behavior (for a time) but it can't lead to lasting change (in a positive way) without dealing with what's really going on.

But this morning, for the first time, we got at what's really going on. This morning he was able to tell me that he's sad because he doesn't have any friends to play with. This breaks my heart. I might be a little biased as his mother when I say that my son is likable and fun and funny. And he is usually very outgoing and social (more so than I am). But what if he doesn't have a chance at making a friend because of him only going MWF? What if it's not going to get better with time without him going either one more day or all five days?

Talking with his teacher this morning, she suggesting I drop him off on the playground rather than walk him to the classroom. That way the kids will interact with him more. She said the kids don't know him and he's a bit alienated due to that. Painful things to hear. But I'm glad to know what's really going on so we can deal with this.

We've talked about God being with him all day when Mommy can't be with him. And I've been intentional about praying over him before school. The other day I asked him who is with him all day at school and he said, "The one who has his hand on the top of my head. He is God." But I would be a negligent parent if I am only praying. I also need to be preparing him. My son is struggling to know how to make a friend. So this morning on the way to school we prayed that God would help him make a friend and be a friend so he's not so sad at school. And then we talked about tangible things he can do... pick one classmate today and find out what they had for breakfast and tell him what you had. Or remember how much you were laughing this morning when your sister was trying to put on your underwear and then we drove to school and you thought it was hilarious that we saw two dogs wearing sweaters? Pick a classmate and tell him about those two things...

Until we figure out whether we're gonna have to add more days or not, we'll be helping him with suggestions like this on the way to school.

Praying for wisdom as to know how to proceed from here...

Happiness

I feel good today and for that I am grateful. I feel alive. I feel happy. Would you describe me as a happy person? Lately there has been this cloud over me: mostly fatigue, but also guilt and inadequacy and shame and fear and just feeling overwhelmed. I know that the fatigue makes it all worse. But today there has been some relief. Today I am not tired. Today I have felt a little lighter. Happy. Happiness is getting things done. Singing around the house. Remembering to pray over my son before I drop him off to school. Acting silly for a tiny smile in the midst of tears and a sad heart that is needing extra time to adjust to starting school and missing Mommy. Chasing my daughter to her squeals of delight. A rainy cooler day. Wearing jeans. A hot chocolate. Bringing out our winter hats from storage (although I'm not quite ready to put away the beach towels yet).

Happiness is hearing that school bell ring to dismiss the students and watching my boy (more grown up today than the first day of school) running to the car, excited to see me and his sister and getting to bring him home. Happiness is a good conversation with my husband and falling a little more in love with him. Reading an extra book to my son who should have been asleep hours ago. The weight of my sleepy daughter in my arms and comforting her from the pain of her four teeth poking through at once. The dryer and the dishwasher running at the end of this day. Writing. And feeling quiet and still tonight, for I am dreaming and planning. I feel passion and longing and hope and excitement and maybe just for today. But I will hold onto it as long as I can for I have found, all good things we must let go of for it to become that which we don't yet know. We can only hope, in letting go, it will be better.

quiet moments and obedience

Today, while I am getting ready in the bathroom, my little girl is sitting in the living room, quietly looking through picture books we got from the library. So I thought. Why have I not learned that “quiet” is a warning much like a fire alarm is a warning?  I come out of the bathroom and my little girl is certainly not quietly looking through picture books we got from the library. She’s not where I left her 5 minutes ago. How can that be? Instead, she is standing (STANDING!!) on a kitchen chair (ummm, this is new).  My glasses are broken (BROKEN!!) laying on the table next to her. And now bored of the glasses, because they are broken, she has moved on to playing with my camera (MY CAMERA!!). Yes, the one I just bought a $200 lens for. How does she know how to pick two of my most important items? Much like her brother, when he was mad at me the other day, he simply went to my computer and tore out the space bar. Yep, he knows where it hurts. Our children are so smart.

Remember when my baby girl was only butt-scooting around the room? Why did I want her walking so badly? Truly, I am grateful  she is ok and that she didn’t  fall off the  chair, climb up onto the table and jump off, drop my camera, etc. It was quite a shock to see her standing there, a little smile on her face. I would have liked to take a picture if it wasn't so heart-stopping and, oh yeah, she was playing with my camera... 

So yes, another new stage we are entering into. Her brother is losing teeth and starting school and Skylar is climbing onto high places to play with (BREAK!!) Mommy’s toys.  Obedience training here we come, round two... Playing outside, we now talk about not going into the street. She goes to the end of the driveway and says, "stop" and stops (for a second) before she's giggling and trying to run into the street.  And yes, I'll take broken glasses ANY DAY over my daughter, laying on the street, with a broken body. But today, seeing her precious little body, exploring her little world (from a higher view) I realized that obedience training is officially here. Sigh. We're still working on obedience with her older brother. Instilling obedience is one of my biggest challenges as a parent. How about you?

51 years, with and without

Today is Aug. 4, 2012, which would have been my parent's 51st wedding anniversary. My dad has been dead for a little over 10 years now and so even though my parents did not get 51 years together, today is still a marked day, not to celebrate and remember 51 wedded years together, but to celebrate and remember the years they did have together. This past decade since my dad's death, there's been much change in our family. Specifically, in my life, I graduated from grad school, got married, began my professional career, and birthed two children. Not a day goes by that I don't mourn the loss of my dad not being a part of those huge life-changing milestones of my life. (and also the normal everyday things). And yet, while my dad is physically gone, the effect of the man he was, the father he was, the husband he was, the runner he was, the provider he was, the health scientist he was, the son he was, the brother he was, the friend he was, the grandpa he was, the sinner he was, the forgiven man he was, the dying man he was, etc. lives on. How wonderful it would be to be able to see my dad today. To talk to him and give him a hug and go for a run with him and watch him play with my babies. This past week, being Coast Guard week in our beach town, I can see my dad taking part in this week and really enjoying this week... racing in the Coast Guard 10K, walking down to see the ships coming into the harbor and watching the parade. I can imagine him knowing my children and enjoying them and building relationship with them, as well as my husband who he never met. And how much I have changed this past decade. So to have the chance for my dad and I to have had a different relationship this past decade. I still ache because these things can't happen. And I ache for my mom because this anniversary (as I'm sure all anniversaries post-loss) must contain such sweet memories but also sadness for all the years without.

Today marks my parents 51st wedding anniversary. And yet, they could not be married for 51 years. Even so, today I remember and honor the years of marriage they did have. 10 years after my dad's death, I am still blessed my parent's marriage - in my heart, in my memories, and within my own marriage. My parents were never loud or showy about their love for each other. But I remember a quiet, steady, faithful love between them, that brought me much security. I remember the familiar and comforting routine of their lives together. And while my dad is now gone, that remembrance and that sense of their marriage still affects me today. Especially now that I am married and oh how humbly we view things differently when we're on the other side of marriage and also of having children...

Thank you Mom and Dad for your marriage. Today is a special day indeed, and I celebrate that day 51 years ago, when my parents said I do, til death do us part.

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."