A Mother's Day Lesson

So, yesterday was Mother's Day.  Year after year when I imagine Mother's Day I think it will be my day to kick back, relax, sit in my lawn chair and drink coffee all day.  After six years you would think that I wouldn't let my imagination get the better of me.  I am still a mom on Mother's Day.  My husband does a wonderful job trying to take care of everything for me so that I can relax but there will still always be a little finger poking me in the face at 6:30AM asking me to open the present she made for me at school.  And, there will still be the baby who will not fall asleep for his nap unless mommy is there to give him a final kiss before closing his eyes.  And, there will always be that little boy who truly believes with all his heart that a mud pie and a handful of dirty weeds is a the best way to tell his mommy that he loves her.  I guess I will relax when they are all teenagers and simply grunt at me to say "Happy Mother's Day".

Having said all that, I did have a really special moment this year.  We were at church in the morning and the baby will not sleep in my arms anymore so grouchy him and I spent the morning in the foyer.  During that morning I found myself sitting beside a friend who had come to Canada from China in January to study.  This Sunday morning she was holding her beautiful two year old girl who had just now arrived from China after being separated by an ocean for over four months.  As I was sitting with her my baby boy was fussing and would not drink him bottle.  Then along came a friend from Nigeria who popped her sweet four month old boy on my lap and took my fussy baby and convinced him to drink his bottle.  As we were all sitting on that bench in the foyer I had to smile.  Three different nationalities from three different parts of the world.  We all grew up in different countries, speaking different languages, with different upbringings.  But here we sat with our kids scattered in each others arms.  We were all moms.  We were all raising our children differently with different cultures and languages but as we sat there and chatted it didn't matter.  There is something about children that brings people together.  Maybe it's their funny expressions, their clumsy movements, or their adorable little noises.  I think maybe it's how they smile at anyone who smiles at them.  They meet a new baby and they don't care if that baby is bottle fed or breast fed.  They could care less what foods they were introduced to first.  They don't care what brand of diaper the other baby is wearing and they certainly don't care if their outfit is from Walmart or The Gap.  They don't care if that baby is long and skinny or short and chunky.  They will pat that other baby's head and smile whether their hair is long and thick or shiny and bald.  They will giggle together when one of them falls down and giggle even harder when the other one falls on top.  They will sit and drool all over themselves and not care what the other one thinks.  Maybe babies bring us together because they will smile at us just because we are there.  They will love us regardless of what we look.  They don't compare us to one another or judge us for our faults.  I always thought I had some growing up to do but maybe I have some lessons to learn from the baby I assumed I was supposed to be teaching.  Maybe, from time to time, this mommy needs to remember to see the world through her baby's eyes.

The Lasts of the Firsts

Tonight my baby boy fell asleep in my arms.  I sat there snuggling him and thinking about the past few weeks.  I'm sure he is growing up exponentially faster than his older sister and brother.  Last week we took him out of his baby car seat because one more week of him in that thing would have sent me to physiotherapy for arm and neck strains.  Now that baby seat is sitting in my laundry room.  It looks lonely.  For the past five and a half years it has been transporting our babies places or sitting in the crawl space anticipating the next arrival.  I remember the day we bought it and brought it home.  I carried it around the house pretending that the baby in my belly was sitting all snuggled up in that seat.  When L arrived I was so excited to strap her into it and take her home.  My hubby walked tall and proud out of the hospital carrying his new baby girl.  We argued over who got to carry it into church the first Sunday after L was born because we were both so proud to show her off.  These same situations happened two more times.  And now, the last baby is growing up and that car seat is no longer needed.  I know it seem ridiculous to feel so sentimental about a car seat but I am slowly realizing that certain phases of our life are finishing and will be gone forever.  I am so amazingly blessed that I got to tell my hubby that I was pregnant three times.  Then I got to feel three little people rolling, kicking and dancing inside of me.  Then we got to meet those little people for the first time.  Three times we got to bring a baby home.  Three times I got to snuggle a newborn that smelled like baby soap and Pampers.  Three times I got to see a baby smile for the first time, sit for the first time, stand for the first time.  There are so many precious memories of my babies firsts that are now memories of the last time we will see those things.  It's bittersweet really.  We are content with our family of five and we are looking forward to new and exciting stages of life but it's a little bit hard to let some of the "firsts" go.  I hope I remember to take the time to be in the moment.  To take the time to really remember what it felt like, smelled like, sounded like.  If I could give any advice to other moms it would be to stop.  Just stop.  Think about where you are.  You are the only person in the world who gets to be the mommy to that baby who just laid eyes on you for the first time.  You are the only person in the world who gets to be mommy to that baby that just smiled at you for the first time.  Do we really understand what that means?  This is where it all happens and this is the stuff that at the end of our lives we are going to care about.  This is life.  

So, tonight as I snuggled my baby boy I realize how big he was in my arms and then I realized that soon he will be even bigger.  So, I sat there.  I just held him in my arms and I felt his warm little body and listened to his quiet little breaths.  At that moment I was the only person in the world who got to snuggle that little boy.  This is life and I'm not going to take it for granted.

Let the Oatmeal Burn

This morning I was sitting on my comfy chair drinking my coffee when my three year old came up beside me and asked for a snuggle.  I scooped him up into my lap and he laid his little head on my shoulder.  We were snuggling for about a minute when I realized that the oatmeal on the stove was starting to bubble and I needed to stir it.  I was about to tell my little guy that I needed to put him down to go stir the oatmeal when I paused. So often I am running from one thing to the next.  My kids are so good to me and they easily come along with me as we run errands, grocery shop, clean the house, etc...  In fact they are so good I fear that I sometimes take them for granted.  I go about my busy life dragging the kids here and there, asking them to wait just a moment while I finish up one last email or while I respond to a text message.  They patiently wait which is a good virtue to teach my kids but do they spend more time waiting then they should?  I think they do.  It's time to ignore some things in life.  It's time to push distractions away when one of them asks to cuddle, or to play a game or for help with a drawing.  It's time to get rid of some things in life that make it so busy.  It's time to let the oatmeal burn because my little boy will not always want to snuggle with me on the big comfy chair.

This morning the oatmeal burned and I will gladly scrape the pot later.

It's Too Heavy

I was in the kitchen getting ready to make lunch when I heard my little boy in the family room huffing and puffing, "It's too heavy.  I can't carry it." I went into the room and found him trying to carry a box full of stuff that was way to heavy for him to carry.  I looked at him and said, "If it's too heavy, just put it down.  You don't have to carry it by yourself".

How many times have I heard those words in my life?  So often I find myself burdened with so much stuff.  Stressful days, tough situations with my kids, rough patches in marriage, baggage from my past, news of sickness in a good friend.  It seems like everyday more and more "stuff" is added to my box of life and sometimes it gets overwhelming trying to carry it all.  But just like I eased my son's burden by helping him carry his little box full of treasures, God is just standing by waiting for me to ask him to help carry my box of stuff.  I don't have to be supermom.  I don't have to carry the weight of the world and all the awful things that go on in it on my shoulders.  I can lay it at his feet and ask him to carry it for me.  His shoulders are big enough.  His love is strong enough.  All I have to do is ask.

After a few items were emptied out of my sons little box he picked it up and said, with great confidence, "It's not too heavy.  I can carry it now!"  Today I am going to empty a few things out of my box.  I am going to lay them at the feet of the one who is strong enough to carry them for me.  I am not called to be perfect.  I am called to be his child.  I am called to trust him.

If this doesn't make sense to you, ask me about it.  I'll be glad to share how you too can get rid of your heavy box.

One of Those Days

Have you ever had one of those days that just beats you up?  Those days when your toddler seems to yell about everything.  Those days when your big kid does something to make you burst into tears and then giggles.  Those days when your baby doesn't want to nap or decides to wake up from his nap when you are in the middle of something you have been trying to get to for weeks. Those days when you cannot even go to the bathroom without someone coming in and asking you for something. Those days when you are trying to clean the house and it seems to be getting dirtier as you are working.  Those days when you realize that you have much to do and have no idea how you are going to get it done.  Those days when you feel like everyone's servant.  Those days when you are frustrated and take it out over the phone on your spouse who is at work and who really hasn't done anything wrong.  Those days when you realize you haven't been out without your kids for weeks.  Those days when you feel invisible.

I love being a mom.  I love being a wife.  I count it a huge blessing that I get to stay home with my kids.  But some days I feel like I have somehow lost myself.  On days like this there is only so much I can do about it.  I cannot leave and sit peacefully at Starbucks by myself.  I cannot ignore the needs of the three little people living in my house.  I cannot demand that my husband come home from work and help me.  The only thing I can do is pick myself off the floor, wipe the tears away, take a big breath, say a prayer of desperation, and keep going.  I'll keep going because, even though I feel like I have lost myself, one thing I have not lost is the freedom to choose happiness in moments that otherwise can be overwhelming.  I can do it.  And, if you ever find yourself in a moment like this, you can do it too.

It Started With A Tree

I am amazed at how life changes once you have kids.  Every parents finds themselves rudely awakened to the practical parts of life that change like unpredictable nights, how much diapers cost, loosing the ability to be truly spontaneous.  I could go on and on and on but today I'm thinking about something a little different than just the obvious changes.  I'm thinking about those changes that occur so subtly that you don't even know they are happening until one day you stop and it all catches up to you.  This week I have had a few people over to our house for coffee.  I found myself no longer running around frantically trying to clean everything up before they arrived.  This house is where my family lives and this is what life looks like.  My bathrooms haven't been cleaned in longer than I am willing to admit, there are random puzzle pieces scattered around the floor, there is certainly a diaper laying in the hallway, and my bedroom is cluttered with laundry baskets that will (lets be honest) probably sit there until all the clothes are worn and have to be washed again.  Then there is the Christmas tree in the basement..... it cost $30 new.  Yep, imagine how that looks.  If you are imagining a short, spindly, sparse and very fake looking tree, you are indeed correct.  Not only that but there are colored lights on it!  I swore I would never EVER have colored lights in my house.  But, my little girl looked at me one day and asked why we didn't have any pretty colored lights.  Then she asked me if she could please help me decorate the tree.  We now have a spindly, multicolored, mismatched tree in the corner of our basement and you know what? I love it.  Don't get me wrong, I think it is super ugly however, when I look at that tree I don't think about how unappealing it is to the eye.  I think about the smile on my little girl's face when I plugged in the lights and all the colors filled her eyes.  This evening when I went to unplug that three I couldn't help but smile because when I saw it I was reminded that two little children I love more than life itself are the reason that tree is there.

Earlier today I was given a late birthday present.  I was given an afternoon by myself with some shopping money.  At first I was over the moon excited because, as much as I love my kids, I needed a bit of time to myself.  I went to a few stores and tried on some things but the more I shopped the more miserable I felt.  When I first got married we had two incomes so when we wanted something we just went out and bought it because the money was there.  Since we have had our three kids I no longer work and so we have to budget one income to cover the expenses of living in the city and having three kids.  Money has been tight and we often cannot go and purchase many of the things we would like to.  As a result, my wardrobe has been shrinking at a considerable rate and I was really excited for the opportunity to replenish it and maybe even feel in style for once.  As I walked though store after store I was over whelmed.  Do I buy some shoes or do I buy clothes?  Do I buy casual clothes since that's what I live in these days or am I only living in casual clothes because I do not have anything else?  My head was swimming and by the end of three hours I had one $12 item.  All of a sudden I just wanted to be home.  I got back in my vehicle and a few minutes later I walked in my front door.  As I walked in I heard my little boy excitedly yell that he was a jack-in-the-box and I saw my baby boy sitting comfortably on Grandma's lap.  I saw lego scattered on one side of the room and I saw books scattered on the coffee table.  I felt like I was exactly where I belonged.  I picked up my little boy and squeezed him tight and I realized that he didn't care what I was wearing..... in that moment neither did I.  I realize that this sounds like a very dramatic response to a simple shopping trip but I think it was simply God speaking to my heart to remind me what is important.  I think it was His way to help me find my way back to the blessings I often take for granted.  I will eventually go back to the mall and I will spend that money because, lets face it, I'm a girl and I do like nice shiny new clothes but that's not what I needed on this day. 

As I scroll through Facebook and look at all the pictures of people's beautifully decorated homes and yummy Christmas baking I am reminded that I don't have to feel inadequate when I compare myself to other people.  So, please, keep posting those lovely pictures because I enjoy getting a peak at your wonderful skills in the kitchen and I love being able to sneak a peak at your creative holiday traditions but this year is going to be a little different.  This year I will celebrate with you but I will not be trying to keep up to you because this year I will be sitting in the Christmas cookie-less colored glow of that Christmas tree counting my blessings because..... those blessings have changed me.

It's Tough Being a Parent

I doubt there is anyone in the world who wouldn't agree that being a parent is the toughest job in the world.  Everyday you need to learn and adapt.  It tests your patience and it calls out your selfishness.  There is never a moment that your child isn't on your mind and that alone is exhausting.  You have to fight with your mind to not think about all the things that could go wrong.  You have to trust that God is there to take care of your kids when you cannot.  Everyday you are asked questions that you have no idea how to answer but you have a little face staring at you waiting for the endless knowledge that you are supposed to have.  On the bad days you find yourself holding your child wondering if it is time to take them to the hospital and on the worst days you find yourself holding them wondering if what they faced that day will haunt them for years to come.  Sometimes it is stressful figuring out what type of first aid to administer to the latest boo boo and sometimes it is terrify trying to explain why those kids laughed at them and broke their little heart.  Then there are the moments when you have to explain things like pain, abuse, and death to little minds that cannot stay innocent forever.  Why are my friend's mommy and daddy not living together anymore?  Why do I need to stay away from strangers?  What does it mean when someone dies?  Why did those girls laugh at me? 

Sometimes being a parent means having your heart screaming at the world wondering why.  Why does life sometimes hurt?  Why don't I have the answers for all the questions my kids ask?  Why do I sometimes feel overwhelmed?  Why do I always seem too busy to enjoy the moments that keep passing away far too quickly?  Why can't this parenting thing be easier? ..........

........ Am I a good mother?

To all the moms out there who do not have it all together, yes, you are a good mother.  A good mother loves her kids.  A good mother has sleepless nights wondering about her kids.  A good mother gets food on the table even if it is mac and cheese for the fifth time this week.  A good mother hugs her kids when they need it.  A good mother sometimes has to tell her kids that she does not have the answer to their question.  A good mother doesn't always have everything on her Pinterest page completed ;)  A good mother simply. loves. her. kids.

What prompted this?  A car ride.

T:  Mommy, I dropped by airplane!
Me: Sorry buddy but you will have to wait until we get home cause mommy can't get it while we drive.
L: Here T, you can have my teddy bear.
T: (takes the bear and snuggles it close)
L: Mommy, I gave T my bear because sometimes it is better to think about others before yourself.  Look how happy my brother looks, Mommy. (big smile on her face)
Me: (tears) 

Perhaps I might be a good mom after all..... I bet you are too.

Dear Moms,

Dear mom who is eagerly awaiting her baby's arrival, get as much sleep as you can and go out on as many dates as you can with your husband.

Dear mom who is feeling those first labour pains, remember that it only lasts a day and you will be holding your baby in your arms and he will be even more beautiful that you have imagined.

Dear mom who is getting ready to leave the hospital, don't worry, you will do fine.

Dear mom who is awake in the middle of the night for the 6th time, you are not the only one awake right now.  All over the city there are other moms up feeling the same thing you are.  Take a few minutes and pray for all of them.

Dear mom who is struggling with breastfeeding, hang in there, it does not always come naturally and yes, it can hurt.

Dear mom who is not able to breastfeed, welcome to the club.  You are not the only one.  Your baby is still loved and will still grow up to be a wonderful person regardless of how he was fed.

Dear mom who tears up every time you hear the phrase "breast is best".  Sometimes it's not.  Let the guilt go.

Dear mom who's baby is screaming all the time, again, welcome to the club.  I've been there and I can promise you that it will eventually get better.  Remember, your baby loves you but she is unsettled in this new world she has found herself in.

Dear mom who's friends are all telling you how to get your baby on a sleep schedule.  Do what feels right for you and your baby.  Schedules are good, but not at the expense of your sanity.  Just survive those first few weeks without putting extra pressure on yourself.

Dear mom who feels like crying all the time, we all feel like that.  A human being just came out of you!  Don't be afraid to share how you feel with other moms because we all want to be there to support you.  If you feel like you need some help, there is no shame in asking for it. 

Dear mom who feels like your life was abruptly taken away from you, go ahead and mourn that old life.  It will never be the same.  But, once you are done, embrace this new life you have because it too will be wonderful even if it doesn't seem like it right now.

Dear mom who feels like you have no idea what you are doing, welcome to motherhood ;)  You will most likely spend the next few decades feeling like you are making things up as you go but don't worry, eventually you get used to that feeling ;)

Being a mom is hard but it is also the most amazing journey you will take in life.

Our first family picture.  Not the most flattering but it was a monumental moment.  Our family finally feels complete :)

I am not the best mom :(

Over the last few weeks I have not been feeling like the best mom in the world..... yes, I do have some pretty amazing days where I think perhaps I may be the best mom in the world but then the next day arrives and I am deeply humbled by something that occurs.  Whether it's one of my kids throwing themselves on the ground in a temper tantrum in public, or L teaching a smaller kid some of her bad habits, or L asking loudly "Is that a man or a woman?" in the grocery store, whatever it is, I never feel like a super mom for very long.  Over the past few weeks L has been going through a "phase", as us mothers like to call it.  She went from being a pretty good listener to not listening at all.  Not only does she not listen, but she has learned the art of talking back.  If you know me at all you will know that nothing gets me angrier than a kid talking back to me.  Whether it happens in a classroom with someone elses kid or whether it happens at home with my own kid, it makes me livid.  My first reaction is to put them promptly in their place however, this is usually not the best course of action with a small child.  So, my approach with L has been to simply pick her up, place her in her bedroom and calmly tell her that if she cannot talk nicely and be a good listener then she cannot play with the rest of the family.  This sometimes works and she stays in her room and comes out a while later calm and collected and begins listening pretty well.  Other times, this results in a full out temper tantrum where I have to stand in the hallway holding her door shut for over half an hour. Sigh.  In addition to all of this my sweet little boy is beginning to have moments where he is not so sweet.  He has discovered temper tantrums..... hmmm, I wonder where he learned those?  The nice thing is that he knows what he wants which is a pretty good quality to have and I'm hoping that once he has some words and is able to actually communicate through more then just gestures and screams then the temper may fizzle out a little.  Hope.

We seem to be slowly emerging from this "phase" but even through it there have been many moments when I think, "Ok, maybe we are doing something right".  When L sees a car accident she immediatley asks if she can pray for the people in the cars.  When we are at the grocery store she often suggests that we should buy some extra to give to someone who doesn't have any food to eat.  When she goes to the playgound and encounters another little girl she says, "Hi, my name is L.  Do you want to play with me?" And then there is T.  He is always ready for a giggle.  If one of us starts laughing, he will join right in.  When he climbs onto the dining room table without me seeing he grins from ear to ear when I find him.  When he finally gets ahold of the computer mouse, after trying all day long, he smiles proudly and hands it back over to me without being asked.

So, maybe I'm not the world's best mom........ ok, I'll admit that I am definately not the world's best mom...... but I am trying to be the best mom I can be.  Some days are great, some are awful.  My kids know I am not perfect but they also know that I love them, that I am not afraid to say sorry when I mess up, and that I need God's help, grace, and mercy every single day.  I got some wonderful advice from a book I read recently called Making Children Mind Without Loosing Yours by Kevin Leman.  He talks about the importance of having real prayer time with your kids.  He encourages parents to let their kids hear them ask God for help with their weaknesses.  Every night L hears me pray, "God, help Mommy to know how to love and teach L and T.  When I do things that are wrong help me to know how to make them right.  Help me love them like you love do.  Give Mommy wisdom and patience because I cannot be a good mommy without you.  Amen."
I mean every word of that prayer.

The Story of My Birthday Boy

I am having a lot of difficulty comprehending where the last year has gone.  One year ago today Dean and I were blessed with our little baby boy and today we have a busy, energetic, happy one year old.  Even though he has already been with us an entire year he still seems new to me.  Perhaps that is because every day he is learning new things and surprising me with what he can now climb on to.  Or, perhaps it is because I am having trouble letting my baby turn into a toddler.  I have absolutely loved having a baby around our house this past year. 

Since today is all about our little T, I thought I would share the story about the day he was born.  My kids seem to feel the need to enter the world with a little drama ;)  Last year, on March 1, I waited all morning for a phone call from the hospital.  I was supposed to get induced..... finally.  I waited all morning and then finally ran out of patience early in the afternoon.  I called the hospital myself and was told that there was no room for me today and I would have to wait until tomorrow.  Grrrrr.  But then, around 5:00pm the hospital called back.  After confirming that it was me on the phone the lady on the other end said, "Would you like to have your baby tonight?" I hung up (after saying yes, of course) and immediately called Dean at work to get him to hightail it home.  After kissing L goodbye and sending her off with my mom, Dean and I finally arrived at the hospital at 7:00pm.  By 7:30ish they induced me with, what has become know in our house as "the gel".  This gel is supposed to help things move along naturally.  Typically, after administering "the gel" you stay in the hospital for about an hour to be monitored and then you get sent home and told to come back when you go into labour naturally (usually within a few hours).  I was super hungry at this point so Dean and I decided that when they sent us home we were going to go out and get something to eat.  Well,  I was 42 weeks pregnant and starving, so right after getting "the gel" I sent Dean to find a food court and bring me back some food.  He was gone for about 10 minutes when I realized that we were not going to be sent home.  I was having rather uncomfortable contractions every 3 or 4 minutes.  They got worse quite rapidly so I started texting Dean and telling him to get back to me.  The nurse came in, looked at my chart and said, "We will observe you a little longer and then you can go home".  I started at her in utter amazement...... how could a nurse, who worked on the labour and delivery floor not recognise a woman in labour.  By the time Dean got back I was sweating up a storm and had decided that I was too tired to have a baby today and that we should just come back tomorrow.  When he realized that contractions were coming every 2 minutes he very sweetly broke the news to me that going home was no longer an option.  Yes, I already knew that, but with every contraction that hit I was reminded of my labour with L that, to this day, I can only describe as horrific.  Even though I knew I was in pretty serious labour, we could not convince the nurse.  Finally another nurse came by, took one look at me and got things rolling to get me officially admitted.  About two hours after they put on "the gel" I finally got into a very nice private room.  I immediately met the nurse that was going to be with me during labour and she asked if I was thinking about having any pain relievers.  I told her that I wanted an epidural, NOW.  She gave me a look that said, "Ok there, you wuss".  I kidd you not, she really did.  Well, that looked was wiped right off her face after she hooked me up to the monitors and realized that my contractions were less than 30 seconds apart.  The anaesthesiologist was there withing five minutes and about 10 minutes later I happily realized that an epidural was going to work this time.  Hooray!!  This was the point where I became perfectly calm..... cause I couldn't feel a thing.

A few minutes later my doctor and her intern arrived in the room.  My nurse showed her the printout of my monitors and all three of them sat and stared for about five minutes.  This was the point when Dean and I knew everything was not alright.  The doctor calmly explained that since my body was reacting so aggressively to "the gel" which caused my labour to come on so fast and furious the baby wasn't having enough time during contractions to recover.  They broke my water trying to rinse out "the gel" but my body did not slow down the contractions.  Then they gave me angina medication to attempt to slow things down.  This also did not work.  So, my doctor told me that they were going to move me over to high risk so that I would be closer to the operating room, just in case.  Well, as soon as they wheeled my bed around the corner into high risk I saw my doctor in scrubs and a surgical cap.  At that point, I knew.  Then, instead of putting me in a high risk room, they put me right into the operating room with at least 15 other medical professionals.  It felt like chaos.  They continued to give me angina medication but it continued to do nothing but make me feel loopy.  Then they started to take blood samples from the baby's scalp (yes, he was still in me) to check his blood oxygen levels.  Then, in one last ditch effort, my doctor tried using a suction and had me push.  I was only 8cm but I pushed like there was no tomorrow.  I wanted that baby to come out.  The last few moments I remember involved my doctor throwing the suction on the floor and saying "We're done", I remember hearing someone telling Dean that he had to leave, and I remember someone telling me that they were going to take good care of me.  I remember feeling surprised (I really thought I was going to push that little sucker out) and confused.  Then....... I realized that I was feeling very very sleepy.  I looked up at the nurse next to me and said, "Are you putting me under??" Then, nothing. 

According to Dean, about 60 seconds later he heard our baby cry.  But, I wasn't there for that moment.  I was somewhere else for the next hour and a half.  I woke up in a big room with two nurses talking quietly at a desk nearby.  I could feel that I no longer had a baby in my belly, but I had no memory of it coming out.  I called the nurse and in a haze asked if I had my baby.  She told me that I did, indeed have a baby.  "Is he OK?" was my next question and all I really cared about.  Once she told me that my baby was fine then I found the nerve to ask, "Was it a boy or a girl?" She replied, "It was a boy." I remember hearing those words but not understanding.  I asked three more times and each time she responded, "Yes, he is a boy".  I was still not comprehending.  I was supposed to have a girl.  No one ever told me that but I was sure of it nonetheless.  I was going to put sweet little matching dresses on her an L and she was going to wear all those adorable little outfits that L had grown out of so quickly.  Where was my little girl?  I was sure the nurse had made a mistake.  Shortly after that, and after some drug induced conversation I had with the nurse regarding how it was a good thing I bought a one piece bathing suit last summer, Dean came into the room.  He was beaming from ear to ear.  I asked him several times what our baby was, and he assured me that he was a boy.... Dean had seen his "boy parts".  I was still not sure what to make of the situation but the sheer and utter joy on Dean's face gave me some reassurance.  Then, they brought me that baby.  They brought me a baby that I did not remember delivering.  A baby that I thought was a girl, but was indeed a boy.  A baby that had been in the world for almost two hours but had never met his mother.  I held him with shaky arms knowing that I loved him, but not sure how I was feeling.  I only held him for another few minutes before my shaky arms could no longer hold him steady.  Shortly after they brought me and my baby upstairs to a room and left us there, alone.  Dean could not stop beaming and I was slowly coming to terms with the fact that I was not present when my baby was born.  Beside my bed was a sweet little boy that I should have already been holding for hours but instead, I only just met him.  It was strange..... it was different.  It was so so different with L.  I heard her first cry, I held her moments after she was born, I smelled her, I felt her.

Fast forward a year.  Today there is a little boy sleeping in his bed.  Tomorrow morning he will wake up and he will be one year old.  I may not have heard his first cry, but I sure have heard many more throughout this past year.  I may not have held him right at birth, but I have rocked him to sleep, held him in the middle of the night while he was sick, cuddled his owies away, and smothered his cheeks in kisses.  I have spent days and minutes and hours holding him and smelling his freshly washed little head of hair.  I have felt him grab onto my legs signalling to me that he wanted to be in my arms.  I may have missed those few first hours, and yes I would like to have them back, but this past year I have been his mother.  HIS mother.  I love having a little boy.

Photo by Tammy Engel

Photo by Tammy Engel

"Look what I found my the recyling bin!!"

What Would I Tell My Pre-Baby Self?

I just watched a video that a friend of mine posted on Facebook.  It's on my page now, in case you are interested in watching it.  It's a youtube video called "Reflections on Motherhood".  Mom's were asked what they would tell themselves if they could go back to a few days before their first baby was born.  Pretty much every single thing written, I agreed with.  It got me to thinking, what would I tell myself? 

- Life as you know it will never be the same.

- Nothing will prepare you for this.  No book, no classes, not even your mommy friends.

- You have never really known what "love at first sight" is, but you are about to.

- You will cry.  Sometimes it will be for sleep, sometimes it will be for frustration, sometimes it will be for fear, sometimes it will be because you have no idea what to do.  Other times it will be out of joy, amazement, and blessing.  And other times it will be because you cannot find words to express how much you love that child.

- You will make mistakes.  Your child will be gracious.  Your spouse will be gracious.  God will be gracious.

- Your child will always be on your mind, no matter where you are, what you are doing, and who you are with.

- There are no words to express what it is like to look at a child who looks like you AND like your spouse.  Your child is the perfect combination of two people.

- From time to time you will feel like life is running in chaos and out of your control.  It is.  Just go with it.

- Time will go fast.  Much faster than you will want it to.  Cherish every middle of the night snuggle, because, as hard as it is to believe as you are sleep deprived, you will miss those.

- When you are up in the middle of the night with a screaming baby remember, there are other moms up with screaming babies too.  You are not alone, no matter how much you may feel like you are.  Pray for those other moms as you attempt to comfort your own baby.

- You and your spouse are allies not enemies.

- All fear, anxiety, frustration, fatigue, and failure will dissipate the minute you walk into that room and your baby looks straight into your eyes, smiles, and says "ma ma".

- Every expert has a different opinion.  Go with your gut.

- Once you get through a difficult phase, encourage other moms who are going through it right now.

- Relax.

- Enjoy.

- Smile.

Eyes in the Rearview Mirror

Over the last couple of years I have been lamenting my new wrinkles.  It feels like ever since I had kids I seem to be ageing at a much more rapid pace.  Perhaps it's the lack of sleep, poor diet consisting of coffee and half eaten grilled cheese, or the constant worry over how to get both kids to the grocery store, do my shopping and still get home for nap time.  Anyway you look at it, the wrinkles are adding up.  Yes, I know it's vain, but it still bothers me.

Then, last week, the strangest thing happened to me.  I was driving with my kids (on the way home from the grocery store) and I was looking in the rear view mirror at Lillian.  After seeing the silly face she wanted to show me, I caught a glimpse of my eyes in the mirror.  For a split second, I didn't think they were mine.  It's not that they were unrecognisable.  In fact, they were eyes I knew well.  They were my mom's.  Staring back at me in my rear view mirror were the eyes that I saw countless times as we drove in our family vehicle to church, sports practises, piano lessons, to school, home from school, long road trips, the grocery store, etc...  My mom spent hundreds of hours driving me all over the countryside allowing me to pursue my current interests, get me to school or church, or just to connect with my friends.  She gave up so much of her time just taking care of me.  Those eyes staring at me reminded me of the concern, sacrifice, encouragement, patience, and love that only a mother can provide.  Those eyes were staring at me in my rear view mirror and I realised that they were not my mom's eyes, they were mine and they were staring at my kids in the back seat.  My kids get to see in my eyes what I always saw in my mom's eyes.  Love, care, adoration, and pride.  And they get to see it because their mom had such a good mom.

Goodbye wrinkle cream.

Could I be a country girl?

I grew up just outside the city limits on a lovely acreage.  I spent my entire childhood, teenage, and some young adult years there.  I even got married on that acreage.  I loved living outside of the city.  I loved how quiet it was.  I loved how private it was.  I loved that the only sound you could hear in summer time was the wind brushing through the leaves on the trees.  Then, when I got married, I moved into the city.  At first I hated it.  We had a VERY small lot in an older neighborhood where the houses were tall and close together.  I felt like someone was always watching me.  We were on a fire route and a bus route.  We had nosy neighbours and we had loud neighbours.  However, over time I began to appreciate the city.  I could walk five minutes and get a slurpee anytime I wanted to.  If I ran out of milk or some ingredient I needed, I could be at the grocery store and back in about 10 minutes and continue baking.  If I ever had a fire in my house (which has happened) the fire department could be there in about two minutes.  The nosy neighbours always let me know if someone had been lurking around my house or if I left my garage door open.  And those loud neighbours provided hours of amusement if I stopped and listened to them.  Yep, I learned to love the city.

When we moved to our current house my love affair was solidified.  We found a cute little house that is very pleasantly situated on a park green space.  I no longer have neighbours living behind me, just a lovely patch of grass leading to a pretty (but dirty) lake.  I now have the best of both worlds.  I can get get in my car and 10 minutes later be sitting on my deck sipping my slurpee (or better yet, my Starbucks!).  Now, having said that, lately I've been having an odd urge to be in the country.  No matter where you live in the city, you are still in the city.  There are still noises and people that you cannot control.  I find myself more and more often driving out to my parents house just to hear the peaceful sound of the wind in the trees.  My kid likes to go to Grandma's to swim and play but I like to go there to unwind and feel...... settled.  All the stress and strain that comes with kids, a husband, a mortgage, laundry, house cleaning, bill paying, etc... all melt away the second I feel that calming breeze.  If you have never lived out of the city you may not understand what I am talking about but maybe that's just it..... that breeze isn't just a breeze, it's home.  So, as much as I love the city, I think I will always be a country girl at heart.

Mid-Life Crissis?

I think I may be having a mid-life crisis.  But, I think I may be too young for that..... at least I hope I live to be older than 58 (is 29 half of 58???).  I have been very blessed in my life and since birth I have always lived in a nice home, with new clothes, good food and my own vehicle... ok, I haven't had my own vehicle since birth but you get the idea.  I really have been blessed financially.  Now I find myself coming into a time in my life where friends of mine are buying bigger houses, buying new cars, wearing brand name clothes, etc...  I will be perfectly honest and admit that these are all things that I would like to have and there is nothing wrong with having them.... unless you are me.  I could go back to work and Dean and I could quite comfortably afford a bigger house and some new things that we have wanted for a while.  But, I have a funny feeling that once I had those things, I would be happy for a few years..... and then I would probably want a slightly bigger house.... a newer car.... some more clothes.... and I have a funny feeling that, even with a double income, we would find ourselves in the same financial spot we are in right now.  Instead of striving for those things, I have decided to live in the blessings that God has given us.  We are SO blessed to have enough money for food, clothing and shelter.  I thank God every night (literally) that I don't have to worry about how I am going to feed my kids or keep them warm in the middle of winter.... not to mention that they are both healthy! I want my kids to appreciate how blessed they are.... yes, I realize that is easier said then done and I have no idea how I am going to do that.

The other day I was working out and Lillian asked me why.  I told her that it was because I wanted to keep my body healthy.  That was a good answer.... not entirely honest, but good.  The real answer is because I have about 15lbs of "baby weight" still clinging to my entire body and I have have to buy an almost entirely new wardrobe because none of my pre-second-pregnancy clothes fit me anymore.  If I were being totally honest, I would also have to add that I want to get rid of that weight because I want to look "good" as I walk through public places so that other people (mostly perfectly random strangers) can judge me based on my appearance and I want my appearance to say that I am thin and beautiful therefore I must be a good person.  Is that honest enough?  Not exactly the message I want to be giving my 2 year old daughter and certainly not the message I want to be giving to her when she is a teenager and physical appearance starts to matter to her.  My goodness..... when did physically beauty become so warped?  I want to go back to the days where being plump and pale was the trend.  I would be a supermodel in that world! 

Then, the other day, Lillian asked me when her birthday was.  I told her that she had to wait until after summer time.  Then she asked me if she could have a party with all her friends.  Now that was a question I was not prepared to answer.  If her reason for having a party was to celebrate with all her friends, then sure, she can have a party.  If her reason is because she wants all the gifts, then I'm not so certain.  Yes, I realize that I am being a bit of a hypocrite here because I vividly remember being very excited about what presents were going to show up at my birthday party.  But where is the line when your kid is two?  I don't have the answer to that question either.

Why does everything seem so complicated?  It's exhausting trying to keep up with other people.  Perhaps that is why God doesn't tell us to keep up with the head of the pack.  Instead God tell us to "love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul and strength".  God doesn't care about how big my house is or how I have it decorated (and we all know how much I like decorating.... yep, the walls are freshly painted), nor does he care about what I am wearing.  He does ask us to take care of our bodies but he doesn't ask me to look like the women in magazine adds.  He doesn't care what vehicle I drive or what sunglasses I am wearing as I drive it.  He has blessed many of us with material things but he asks us to not care about them.  What he does care about about is what is going on in my heart.  Do I love my neighbors more than I love myself?  Am I more concerned about loving them then I am about comparing myself to them?  Am I teaching my kids to care about people more than stuff?  Am I leading them by example? (umm.....)

I'm ok if people think that I am being too extreme.  I don't claim to be a saint in the midst of sinners.  I spend most of my life doing the opposite of what I have just written about.  All I know is that God has been nudging me.  He has been nudging me to examine myself compared to his standards..... and his standards are high.  I'm finding myself coming up short but perhaps that is why he has been leading me in this direction.

I'll Admit It

My second child is a boy.  I didn't realize how much I thought it was going to be a girl until my baby was four weeks old and I saw a woman with two little girls and I was jealous.  Not just a little jealous.  I felt like something I had dreamed about was taken away from me.  I am from a family of three girls and I guess I just always thought that I would have all girls as well.  I didn't.  When my little boy was six weeks old I still wasn't over the shock.  I started to feel very nervous because I was still having a difficult time with the fact that my baby was a boy.  Yep, I'm a terrible mother.  But then it happened.  I was rocking my little boy to sleep last week and I looked at him and realized that I am madly in love with him.  Not just a little in love, madly in love.  And, I love the fact that he is a boy.  I love absolutely everything about him.  I will admit that it took a while, and I am ashamed of that, but there is no way that I would change anything about my kids.  I love my big girl and I love my little boy just as much.

Saying Goodbye

Twenty three years ago I walked into my grade one classroom and met a cute little girl who, unknown to me, would become one of my very best friends.  Today I spent the evening with that cutie (who is now a beautiful woman) and another great friend.  We went out for dinner and ended up spending over four hours talking.  We talked about our lives, our kids, our husbands, and anything else we could think of.  It was a night I don't think I will ever forget because we talked about things I have never talked about with anyone else.  I realized tonight that one of the greatest blessings in my life are these two friends.  We have all know eachother for over two decades.  That cute little girl and I went to school together, got married around the same time, had kids around the same time (our daughters are only 4 days apart) and bought minivans around the same time ;) The other friend and I have had similar experiences together.  There are no other people in the world that I can be as honest and vulnerable with.  There are few people that I have laughed with like I have laughed with these two.

That cute little girl is now moving away.  Two provinces away.  Three years ago she moved only five minutes from my house.  That fall we went on numerous walks to try and induce labour.  She had her baby on a Saturday and I had mine the following Wednesday in the same hospital.  Our houses were so close that our little girls were going to be in the same elementary school just like their mommies.  My little girl loves her kids.  She talks about them and often asks if we can go play with them.  This week I told her that her friends are moving away and we wont be able to play with them very often.  She seemed ok with the idea but I'm not.  I know the first time she asks if we can play with them after they move I will break down into tears.  She may not understand it yet, but it's hard to watch friends move away.  I know we will always keep in touch and visit one another, but it's not the same.  That's why tonight was so special.  I am going to miss having my wonderful friend so close by but I feel so blessed to have her in my life, no matter where she lives.

Perspective

I feel like I have spent the last five weeks complaining.  I'm not getting enough sleep, my c-section incision is sore, my toddler is having temper tantrums, my husband is not helping as much as I would like him to, my mom is out of town all month.... The list could go on and on.  A few days ago I felt like I hit a brick wall.  A family that we know of was on vacation and their 5 year old fell in the pool.  She was revived but unresponsive.  This morning, she died.  Sleep, c-section, tantrums.... all seem insignificant.  I am awake at night with my baby who is healthy, growing and in my arms.  I have a wound in my midsection that is there because doctors were able to intervene to save my baby and I.  My toddler's temper tantrums can be dealt with... she is healthy and I can hold her whenever I want. Today my problems are beginning to feel like blessings and out there a mother is grieving and I'm sure she would gladly take my problems over the unimaginable grief that she is facing.  My prayer today is peace for a grieving family and a hope that we continue to look at our "problems" as blessings.  Please join your prayers with ours so that we can stand together alongside a family who could really use them right now.

My Heart

Well, it has been a week since I was pregnant.  Just for the record, being pregnant was much easier than what I've got going on now, but it wasn't nearly as amazing.  Our new little addition is a wonderful, healthy little boy.  He had a very rough time getting into the world (so much for my quick, pain free labour) but he is a very healthy little guy who has found his place in our hearts.  When I had Lillian, she came out and I immediately got to hold her.  I remember being completely in love with her the second I saw her.  I held her and couldn't stop telling her how much I loved her.  This time around, I ended up having an emergency c-section and I was put under.  I regained conscienceness about an hour and a half later.  I found myself in a room with two nurses.  They told me that I had a little baby boy.  I didn't believe them.  Apparently, I thought I was having another girl.  A few minutes later Dean came into the room (he had been with the baby) and he showed me pictures of our son but it still didn't seem quite real.  About 15 minutes later, my little boy was brought into the room.  I felt a little alarmed that I did not have the same reaction to him as I did to Lillian.  I didn't remember him being born and he was already over an hour old.  He had never met me.  He spent the first hour of his life with doctors and nurses poking and prodding him.  Would he know who I was?  I actually felt slightly reluctant to hold him.  What if he didn't like me?  Dean took him out of the basinet and placed him in my very shakey arms.  He looked at me, I looked at him..... I was in love.

We had to stay in the hospital for three days which nearly drove me nuts.  On the last night, I broke down.  I was angry.  I was angry that I had been sliced open and now had a long recovery ahead of me.  I was angry that I couldn't pick up Lillian for at least four weeks.  I was angry that I had to sit around and not do anything.  I was angry that I couldn't drive.  After Lillian was born, Dean and I went on lots of little outings the first few weeks.  We loved going on walks and we would fight over who got to push the stroller.  Now, I had to sit around on my behind, depending on everyone else.  The worst part is when Lillian calls my name and I am unable to get up and go to her.  Or when she cries for me to pick her up and all I can do is stand there and tell her that I love her but I can't hold her.  My heart wants to scream.  I can handle not having a clean kitchen or having to depend on my mom to do my laundry but I cannot handle not being able to care for my child.  And, to make matters worse, she is having a very difficult time with it too.  A week ago I had a pretty well behaved little girl.  For the most part she listened well and her and I had lots of fun together.  Now, I sit on the couch while I watch her have temper tantrum after temper tantrum and poor Dean doesn't know what to do.  Honestly, I don't know what to do either.  Her world has been turned upside down.  The mom that she had 24/7 is now unable to play with her but is able to spend day and night with the new baby.  I'm pretty sure both her and my hearts are broken.  However, I know this is temporary.  I know that four weeks will go by pretty quickly and I'll be able to hold her and love her the way that we both need.  We just have to make it through this time, without wishing it away.  Our little boy will never be a newborn again.  This is his first month of life and I don't want to spend it by wishing it away.  How many ways can one heart be pulled?

Change

I thought I would start a blog for two reasons.  One, I think it may be somewhat theraputic to be able to put my thoughts out there instead of just bottling them inside.  Two, I hope that perhaps I might be able to help other moms realize that what they are going through and what they are feeling is normal (now this is assuming that I am a "normal" person).

When Dean and I decided to have a second child it seemed like a great idea.  Lillian was almost two and we thought that giving her a brother or sister would be a great addition to her life as well as ours.  Both Dean and I have sibblings so having more than one child seemed like the natual thing to do.  Well, as the months passed we began to get more and more excited about our new additon to the family but it still seemed like his or her arrival was a long ways away.  I decided to get everything ready a month in advance of my due date so that I could spend the last month of my pregnancy hanging out with Lillian and giving her a fun last month of being an only child.  To be honest, part of my heart breaks when I think about Lillian becoming a big sister.  Don't get me wrong, I think it's going to be great for her, but she was my very first baby.  She still seems so small and I just want to hold her like a baby, sit in the rocking chair, and somehow slow down time.  But, she is no longer a baby, she's a big sister.  She will, of course, always be MY baby, no matter how old she is or how many babies come into our family.  When I look at her I think of a tough pregnancy with several scary moments, I think of a long labour and hours spent pacing the nursery in the middle of the night with her screaming in my arms.  I also think about holding her for the first time, I think about how she smelled, how she felt and how she was ours.  A perfect combination of Dean and I. 

I know that the moment I meet our new baby I will be as much in love with him or her as I am with Lillian but, it's hard to imagine.  Lillian has changed me.  She has made me learn to love in a completely different way then I ever had before.  She has made me learn to appreciate Dean and how much he loves us.  She has brought so many smiles, so many moments of awe, and so much joy.  I will never love any word as much as I love hearing her say "Mommy".

So, this new baby has a lot to live up to but somehow I think he or she will captivate my heart just as quickly and effortlessly as Lillian did.