Anniversary

Yesterday was the 9th anniversary of the day I lost my first baby. It's also the first time I did not remember until the day after. I suppose I've healed more than I thought.

9 years ago, I was married to my first husband. We had tried for nearly 9 months to get pregnant with no results. Those two lines were the most amazing sight I'd ever seen. I called my family in tears and squealed with my girlfriends at work. It was a Friday. All weekend I floated on air.

On Tuesday morning, I woke up and spent the day in the ER. An ultrasound showed no baby.

I felt empty. I felt like a failure. I didn't want to speak, go to work, bathe or do anything other than sleep and watch TV. That lasted for years.

Now I have 3 children and another kicking my insides. While they are very healing, I know that it truly began after I turned back to prayer and started taking my therapy seriously. I'm grateful for every person that helped me through that dark time.

If this has happened to you, please know that it will get better. You are not alone.

My Babies

We're all still in our pajamas at 12:30 in the afternoon.

There has been so much snuggling, kisses, zerbets and tickling. Or, as Sophie calls it, "chickles".

Milly's curls look like they're made out of cotton candy and they still smell like her lavender baby wash. She smiles around her little thumb in her mouth while she tucks her head under my chin and her body under my arm. She coughs and wails in a scratchy voice because she has her first case of strep throat. Then she burrows onto my shoulder because it's the only place where she feels comforted.

Gideon's giant brown eyes twinkle as he imitates the genie's magic-wish-granting dance on Imagination Movers. He's talking so much more. Yesterday he drank an apple juice box with my help. He knew he that if he squeezed the box then it would go everywhere so I held it. His big eyes crossed as he concentrated on the straw and his grubby little fingers clutched my hand.

Sophie is so used to the potty that she doesn't make a fuss at all. She turns on the overhead fan and takes toys to her siblings. She wants to help with everything so badly and she's very capable. She loves having a task to do. Her favorite is the laundry. She loves filling the washer all by herself.

We're all a little weak from the sickness that has plagued us for weeks. Milly is still the worst. We still take antibiotics every morning and night and there is still coughing. Milly gets a little pain medicine before she lays down to take a nap with her Reveille Pillow Pet. I watch Gideon warily to make sure that the coughing doesn't turn into wheezing. Sophie's eyebrow is almost totally healed and I don't think she'll scar.

Being a mother is so much work. It's a job that lasts 24 hours a day and 7 days a week. There is no sick time or vacation time. There are nights that I fall into bed exhausted at the thought of 3 very energetic kids starting early the next morning. There are times where I long for a day with no one touching me.

I really cannot wait for the day where I never change another poopy diaper.

Today, I feel blessed. I have three incredible children that fill my heart to bursting. I want to remember these moments when they are taller than me, far away from me and I'm not in charge of kissing their hurts.

Today, I will zerbet because I can. I will delight in baby girl curls, little boy gibberish and little girl help. I will let kiddo laughter fill my heart.

Ppppbbbbllllttt!!!!!!

Gideon is the only one of my children who loves stomach zerbets.

He climbs onto the couch beside me, lurches over, raises his shirt with a giant grin on his face and then plasters himself on my face.

His meaning being "ZERBET MY TUMMY OR SUFFOCATE.  MAKE YOUR CHOICE, MAMA!"

My Blessings

In the morning when you rise
I bless the sun, I bless the skies
I bless your lips, I bless your eyes
My blessing goes with you

In the nighttime when you sleep
Oh I bless you while a watch I keep
As you lie in slumber deep
My blessing goes with you

Does every mother weep as she thinks of her children sleeping peacefully in their beds? They're safe and warm. They're cuddled with their favorite blankets and animals or babies. They're fed and clean. They're safe.

When your weary heart is tired
If the world would leave you uninspired
When nothing more of love's desired
My blessing goes with you

When the storms of life are strong
When you're wounded, when you don't belong
When you no longer hear my song
My blessing goes with you

Is it because we know that we'll have to let them go? That we can't always tuck them in and smooth the hair back from their foreheads? That we can't always know what they've eaten that night? Are they having good dreams or are they worried about something? I won't be able to pick them up when they cry out in the night.

This is my prayer for you
There for you, ever true
Each, every day for you
In everything you do

And when you come to me
And hold me close to you
I bless you
And you bless me, too.

The Blessing
Celtic Woman

They have blessed me by just existing. Therefore, I will bless them by praying daily for them. I will weep for them. I will cheer them on. I will forever be their Mama.

Little Flopper

Milly is getting more mobile everyday. It's not often that I get to really hold her. More often than not, I hold a silly girl who flaps her arms and wiggles around to see everything around her. She barks a weird breathless laugh that I have GOT to get on camera so I can remember the sound forever.

Today she is crawling around on me. Her breath smells like formula and the pumpkin muffins I made last night. She holds onto my should and carefully stands up. Then she gets too excited at her accomplishment, flaps too hard and topples over. She bark-laughs and smiles the whole time. She examines every bit of my face; carefully looking at every nook and cranny of my ear and pulling at my eyebrows reminding me that I probably need to go get them waxed. (Eyebrows, not ears.) She finally giggles so much that she gets the hiccups giving herself an even funnier drunken lilt to her early morning play.

Lord, let me never forget this little 9-month old girl.

Don't let me forget her fuzzy hair that doesn't seem to part any "right" way even when she's taking an hour every morning to put every hair in place.

Don't let me forget this silliness even when she's too old for such nonsense.

Don't let me forget the grin with only 6 uneven baby teeth even when she has a mouthful of braces and then a mouthful of beautiful white teeth.

Dear Lord, let me remember.

While He's Little

Sometimes when I get Gideon up from a nap he needs to be held. His eyes are still blinky and he's a little bit of a zombie. He lays heavily on my chest and puts his fuzzy head on my shoulder or under my chin. his downy fine hair is still sweaty on the back of his neck. He snuggles close with his arms around my neck and I rub his back. Last week, he was still in his 4T Aggie jersey.

Please let me remember these moments.

Let me remember when he's storming around the house knocking his sisters' toys down.

Let me remember when he's too old to be held.

Let me remember when he won't let me kiss him anymore.

Let me remember when he's 18, a foot taller than me and wearing a real football jersey.

Dear Lord, let me remember.