The end of leave: Gratitude through tears

As I look at my two girls laying next to one another on Grace's bedroom pillow, my eyes well up. The room is dark. Grace is being tucked into bed. She is staring at her little sister and Caroline is staring back. Grace makes funny noises and Caroline's lip curls up into a smile. I am so profoundly grateful for these moments. I am profoundly grateful to be their mother. I am even more grateful to watch them grow as sisters.

This is the second time I've written a blog about coming to the end of my maternity leave. It will almost definitely be the last on this subject for me. The first time, the blog was consumed with how hard it was for me and how much I was sure to cry. I was emotionally overwhelmed by the mere thought of saying goodbye to my beautiful Grace to return work. Reading it, you would have thought I was the very first person this ever happened to...

This time, I am emotional but I am grateful and that is what I choose to focus on. What I am most grateful for, aside from Caroline's entry into the world (see my "Rainbow baby" blog), is the amazing bond that has developed between sisters.

At least once a week, I ask Grace, "How does it feel to be adored?" She usually just smiles and gives her sister another awkward hug and wet kiss. In all seriousness, Caroline adores Grace. Grace can make her laugh out loud. Grace can comfort her when she cries. Caroline absolutely lights up when Grace says her name. She also cringes a bit when Grace gets a little to close, fifteen times in a row.

I cannot wait to watch them grow as individuals and as sisters. I know there will be happy moments and ugly moments but all the moments will be ours... in a family that is now complete.

I am so incredibly blessed to have two sisters and a brother. I have different but special relationships with each of them. I could never imagine my life without them. They are so much a part of my heart and soul. I know it will be that way for Grace and Caroline.

So, yes, I don't want to go back to work... even though I do love my job. I have to go back to work. And I still firmly believe leave should be paid and longer. But I take comfort going back, in knowing that my girls will have each other and they will be taken care of by special people, when I'm not there.

Tears and gratitude tonight.

And to all the moms and dads who have had to walk this path, I feel your pain. I know your heart and mind will forever be in two places at once.

Caroline Rose… our rainbow baby

I'm growing to know every creak in our floors, as I rock, walk, and feed you. The creaks are quite loud in the quiet hours of the night.

Caroline, you don't sleep much at night, yet. No sleep is to be expected and really, it is a small sacrifice for what can only be considered a miracle.

You see, Caroline Rose you are our rainbow baby. Rainbows follow a rain storm.

Caroline is the bright, beautiful shining array of colors following our miscarriage last summer. For some people, miscarriage is too personal or hits too close to home. I would totally understand if you stop reading right now.

Look right and look left. You probably know someone who has gone through it. I do think it is something we should talk more about. Something people should not suffer in silence with, if they chose not to.

I was in no way prepared for losing a little life that had been growing inside me. My first pregnancy went pretty smoothly. With Grace, my concerns focused on the color of the paint for the nursery and the perfect "take home" outfit. Everything was joyful. My husband would lovingly talk to the baby… something I could barely hear this time.

The first time around, I truly was not aware of just how fragile the process of bringing a life into this world can be. I as not aware of how much responsibility a woman bears in making it through a pregnancy. It is awesome and yet, there are so many things that are totally out of your hands.

There are so many emotions after a loss. Should we try again? Can I handle it? Can we handle it? What if it happens again? The last question became the focal point of my fears. We decided to try again. We were quickly blessed. We got that second "blue line" on Christmas. I told so few people. I asked my husband not to tell anyone but our closest family members. Social media was out of the question. There would be no cute "little sister" arrival announcement for us.

I guess I didn't want to bear the thought of having to tell people if it "didn't work" again. More likely… I was so scared. I spent most of my pregnancy with Caroline… scared. Scared of not hearing a heartbeat. Scared of not feeling enough fetal kicks. Scared we wouldn't be able to give Grace a little sister. Scared but so desperately wanting to feel joyful. Scared but so happy at the same time.

Not only was I going through all of these emotions, I was working full time, trying to be a good mom to a four year old, and a wife. My emotions meant those around me, particularly my husband, couldn't experience that same joy he felt with my first pregnancy. I could see it in his eyes. I felt guilty.

But each week, she grew. Each week, the heartbeat was there. It was strong. She was strong. We learned it would be another girl. We had ultrasounds and saw her little face. Everyone tried to reassure me but still, I was trapped by the fear of losing her. I read too much. I read about what could go wrong, even up to delivery. Don't read that much. Take it from me.

I was lucky though. I had shoulders to cry on and other strong, amazing women in my life to lift me up. Women who have been through the same thing. Women who told me that I wasn't crazy and that feeling what I was feeling was "ok." I was also lucky that I had a husband, who despite his frustrations, supported me unconditionally.

My sister, who gave me great support, told me that, in the end, the weight on my chest and my fear wouldn't totally lift until I held her in my arms. She was right. She was right about so many things.

On August 14th, Caroline Rose came into this world. She had a head full of her Daddy's dark hair. She had all her fingers and toes. She was perfect. My fear lifted. My heart turned toward the new life she would bring to our family. How she would fulfill my dream of Grace having a sibling.

But just because they arrive in one piece… safe and sound… you never stop worrying. Elizabeth Stone's quote best sums it up. It's a quote I've loved for a long time and now fully understand.

“Making the decision to have a child - it is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.”
― Elizabeth Stone

Now my heart walks around outside of my body… in the beautiful little people that are Grace and Caroline. They are my greatest joys and the best gifts I will ever give to this world.

To all of you have who have suffered this loss, whether you were able to "try again" or not, I keep you in my thoughts and prayers. You are not alone.

My split screen life

Well, to say it has been awhile since I blogged, would be quite the understatement. I haven't blogged since 2012. I think life just got in the way. However, with the arrival of our beautiful, second daughter- Caroline- I think it might be time to start writing again. Caroline arrived about two weeks before her due date. But then again, I never thought I'd make it to my due date. Due dates are rarely right. She is happy, healthy and not sleeping more than two hours at a time. I had forgotten about that. I think the filing away of memories like no sleep and constant feedings is our body's way of tricking us into having more children. More on the "no sleep" later.... for today, I'll focus on one of my biggest observations thus far as a "mom of two." It has to be the constant dichotomy of our life. It is a beautiful blend of happiness and chaos all at once! Take our first family hike, for example. We wanted to join some friends to check out a state park with gorgeous views. It started off perfectly. Caroline in the baby carrier - totally shielded from the sun- for those of you worried about that :) Grace, A.J. and myself walking some trails and snapping a few lovely pictures. Here's one!

It looks so perfect... but perfect can turn into crazy in short order. We hiked further and met up with some great friends. The kids checked out some tide pools while I tried to feed the baby. Luckily, one of our dear friends stayed with me... because this only gets worse. There was the large diaper mess and the diapers were with A.J., who was wandering around the tidal pools. Oh, and there was barely any cell service too. So, a very messy diaper and she needed to eat. We found a quiet little bench area. I kept feeding her. Then the flies attacked. For some reason, they wanted to bite my ankles. Trying to be a "super mom", I figured, I could take the flies biting me - I just didn't want them to bite the baby. Well, you can only take it for so long. We started walking back. I then realized we've hiked a ways in. So, the baby was crying and still needed to eat. The nuttiness of the moment led me to feed her while walking through the state park, as she was shielded by a blanket, so as not to give the families and elderly folks walking by too much of a show. Oh and the flies didn't let up. Husbands and kiddos finally caught up. They needed a snack- which is not new for four year olds- they always need a snack. I needed to keep walking. It all ended well at our nice, air conditioned car but it hammered home the reality of how picture perfect things can look one minute... and then not so much, the next.

The dichotomy of our new reality extends into the more mundane moments too. Like this loving picture of our sweet Caroline. This, while just four feet away, my husband and Grace are screaming and playing games at the dining room table. Gone are the peaceful, serene moments that I had with our first daughter. This little girl is going to have to learn to sleep through blaring Disney music, Grace's off-key singing, lots of loud voices, and more sister kisses than she can count.

While not so peaceful, I wouldn't change it for the world. I am totally in love with my new, complete and crazy little family.

A heartbreaking "first": No repeats necessary!

Grace, you spent your first night in the hospital at 17 months. That one night is enough for a lifetime. You had a very bad stomach bug. You were sick for several days. You got deyhdrated. Despite everything we tried, you didn't get better at home. So, we had to take you. It was heartbreaking. Heartbreaking as we watched the nurses try to put an IV in your chubby, cherubic arms... three agonizing times. You cried- a lot. So did Mommy. Daddy did too. We felt helpless. We felt guilty. Heartbreaking when they decided to admit you. You cuddled in bed with Mommy and your toys. It was a very, very long night.

The next day, and many bags of fluid later, your strength started to come back. You started to drink and eat again. You learned you hated the green Jello but that Cheerios were okay.

Then you found the Hospital hallway which is covered in fishes and undersea life. You ran around the nurse's station like it was your personal playground. I could feel the weight lifting off my chest. Your smile was priceless.

I still think about what I could have done differently. I think about how we have to be your strongest advocates, in every aspect of life. You are our greatest gift and we are supposed to do everything we can to keep you safe, happy, and healthy. We will. I promise you that. Sometimes, though, things might be slightly out of our control but it won't stop us from doing everything in our power to fix it.

This story has a happy ending. You made a full recovery. We took you home. Flowers and balloons waiting. And with a new appreciation for the families out there who have children who are chronically ill. Blessing to you all. You define patience and hope. And I have a renewed sense of gratitude for all the healthy moments we have.

Going nowhere & everywhere: Summer Vacation

We're coming to the end of our summer vacation. It was wonderful. We went nowhere and everywhere at the same time, creating memories that will last a lifetime. You saw fireworks for the first time and danced with joy, raising your arms to the sky.

You picked berries in a field and ate more than you put in the basket.

You jumped the waves at a little beach near our house, fearlessly running towards the water and not away from it.

You met a duck in the big city and said hello.

You looked for me each day and said "Mah-ma." You smiled when I said, "Yes."

Mah-ma. You say it in a soft, raspy whisper. It's deliberate now. More than just the "ma, ma, mas" of the past. You know Mah-ma, is me. I hear your little voice saying the word over and over in my mind. Listening to you find your voice is a joy. "Clock" - you say with conviction and point to it on the wall. "Quak quak," you exclaim with glee when a flock of geese walks by. You "trumpet" with your nose and raise your arm to become an elephant. Your "roar" like a lion with a growing sense of strength. You are cherished baby girl. Mah-ma loves you. Happy Summer 2012.

The "G" factor: How Grandparents are shaping the world

Grace absolutley lights up when Grammy comes in the room. Just one note of my mother's distinctive voice and Grace is over the moon. Alexandra too!
And this is not your traditional Grandmother-Grandchild relationship. Grace spends Wednesdays with her Grammy and Papou. My Dad, who never changed diapers on the first go around, now rolls up his sleeves, changes that diaper, gives her a bottle and then does anything she wants to make her smile. Anything from walking her for hours in the stroller, to watching the cars go by, and enjoying an episode of cartoons together. My Mother has crawling races on the floor, makes them laugh out loud with her funny voices and then lulls them to sleep like only she could.

Without their help, I'm not sure how we could make it work. This is the growing trend. You could call it the "G" factor. Grandparents taking a central role in the upbringing of their grandchildren. Gone are the days when a trip to Grandma and Grandpas was limited to a Sunday dinner or brief trip for cookies and milk. Our generation is genuinely reliant on our parents for help in making the "life-work" balance work. A likely product of a challenging economy and major shifts in the makeup of family in general.

I guess this isn't totally new to me or my siblings. You see, we had young, vibrant grandparents who are still with us. I don't have a single childhood memory that doesn't involve my grandparents. From riding big wheels in their driveway, to walking to the local store to cash in orange soda bottles for penny candy, to dinner with hot pans of American chop-suey and many a sleepover night. My grandparents- and specifically my grandmother- had a very prominent role in our young life. She was not your typical grandmother. She was strong and tough. Evidenced in everything from the not-so-gentle way she brushed our hair with that red-rubber bristled brush to the way she fiercely protected us from anything and everything that might do us harm.

So growing up with a grandmother like that, I guess I expected that my mother would not be traditional. She's not. I wouldn't have it any other way. It has been such a gift to watch her and my father fall in love with my daughter and my neice. Just a hug from them or a smile makes all the cares of the world fade away.

These special, new relationships between grandparents and grandchild are helping to shape the little people we are introducing to the world. Grandparents are helping to shape our world in a more profound way than we might realize. It's a blessing. There's no better way to pass on values, traditions, and the importance family.

One year

Grace Ann, you are now one.

You made it, we made it and there was a celebration. The party was a lady bug theme. You didn't smush cake. In fact, you appeared to hate it when we tried, especially the part where you got your fingers dirty. You are truly my child. Your father keeps saying how your cake refusal is further proof that you got none of his DNA. I'm sure that will change!

I've spent many of these journal entries, looking back at what you've done. Today, instead of looking back, I'm going to look forward because I can start to see in your eyes, a glimmer of the person you will become.

You will be curious and joyous. You've just started playing this new game. You "sneak up" behind me. I pretend I can't see you. You dissolve into giggles when you realize I can.

You will be adventurous and fun. A smile fills your face when I hold you tight and we fly down a slide or when your Daddy pushes you so high the swing.

You will be smart and love learning. Every day you pick up a book, hold it out to me and "ask" me to read to you. You recognize and respond to so many more words.

You will be strong and loving. You hug now. Really hug. You wrap your small arms around me and give me a kiss. The kiss is still a little sloppy but I'll take it any day because I know one day, you might not think it's cool.

You will be giving. Sharing may not be your strong suit right now but it will be. You will be the little girl who lets others have a turn and who lets another child hold your favorite toy because it's the right thing to do.

How do I know all this? Because I am watching you become you, every day. Because, we will teach these lessons to you. Because I am your mother and I just know. I get to say that now.

Having you in our world for the past year has been a blessing, a year of grace. I have quietly and loudly said "Thank you" for your every day since March 1, 2011. I'll continue to be grateful for you everyday that we have together on this earth.

I love you, baby girl.

Mommy