Happy Birthday Noah

My Dearest Noah,

Tomorrow you will be three years old. I can not believe how fast the time has gone by. I still remember holding you in the hospital after you were born, marveling at the amazingly fuzzy little head you had. I remember Georgia meeting you for the first time, holding you and trying to feed you a bottle.

And now you are a truly amazing not-so-little boy. In so many, many ways. You are, of course, adorable. Your blonde hair, dark brown eyes, and eyelashes that are a mile long help you charm your way out of almost anything. I also love, love, LOVE that you are a cuddle-bug. You could sit in my arms all day long and cuddle, and sometimes that is exactly what mommy needs. You have always been a lovey-dovey little guy, and I hope it never changes. I hope in a few years you are still asking mommy to "give me a cuddle" in that cute Noah voice.

You are also unbelievable smart. Seriously. I can not believe some of the things that you know. You not only know all of your letter, and recognize upper and lower case, but you also know all of the letter sounds. You know what vowels are. You are starting to sound out 3-letter words! Really? You are starting to read! At THREE!! You also know numbers and shapes and colors and patterns and basic addition. And the vocabulary that you have.....well, sometimes I wish that was not as good as it is.

I love that you adore your older sister. And I am sure she is the reason that you have learned so many things at such a young age. You have to keep up with Georgia. You follow her around and want to play with her all the time. You are happy to be her "student" when she is the "teacher," as long as she is nice about things. But you know how to stick up for yourself when she is just being plain old bossy.

I love that you are so sweet and caring with your little brother Sam. You love to hug and cuddle him, and especially to make him laugh. And he loves to laugh with you! I was very worried that you would not take well to a new baby in our family, as you quite enjoyed being the baby for two and a half years. But you have been a wonderful big brother, and I am sure you will continue to take care of and watch out for Sam for many years to come.

I love that you love cars (or any vehicle, really.) I mean, LOVE cars. You can entertain yourself for hours with a box of matchbox cars, trains, trucks, etc. You have a tremendous imagination, and you make up the funniest little stories about your cars. I love to sit in the kitchen and listen to you play in the other room, making your cars and trucks go on all sorts of adventures.

Noah, I am so lucky and blessed to have you as my not-so-little boy. You have certainly challenged me as a mom, especially during the past year, but you have also brought me such happiness and joy. And you have made me laugh. Oh, how you make me laugh!

You are a phenomenal boy. I am so excited to celebrate your birthday with you and our family this weekend, and to celebrate many, many more birthdays down the road. I can't wait to see what lies ahead for you in the next few years.

I hope you know how much you are loved and treasured.

Happy Birthday my buddy.

Love,
Mommy

The Unspeakable Loss

It is that time of year when we start taking stock and thinking of the things that we are grateful for in our lives. Over the past few (insanely stressful and psychotic) weeks I have been thinking a lot about about how lucky I am, and in so many ways. So I do have many things that I will be thankful for in a few days when we sit down around our dining room table to have a wonderful meal with our family.

Unfortunately, this is also the time of year that we remember things and people that we miss, losses that we have had. I have spent just as significant an amount of time missing many things this past month or so. Due to our living situation I missed the birth of my niece, my baby sister’s first child. I have been missing my grandfathers, who have both passed away. I have been missing the time I am unable to spend with my grandmother, who is on hospice and has very little time left with us. I am also missing the amazing woman who she used to be, and is no longer. But one loss has been creeping around in my head for the past 18 months, and it rears its ugly head now and then with enough emotional force to make me sob. It is a loss that seems to be something unspeakable in our society, yet so many people experience it. So now it is time for me to talk about it, and try to exorcise this demon that has been haunting me.

I had a miscarriage.

There. I said it. No, wait. It should be said again, shouted even.

I HAD A MISCARRIAGE.

It is something that is only talked about in whispered voices, if it is even talked about at all. And it should be talked about more, it NEEDS to be talked about more. So that is why I am talking.

I found out I was pregnant in the first week or so of May 2008. It was my third pregnancy, we were excited and we shared the news with our family members. I had had two healthy and uneventful pregnancies before, and had no reason to think anything might go wrong, so why not tell everyone. I was 5 weeks along. I went about my business, we traveled to a friend’s wedding, same old same old. When I was 9 weeks, and a couple of days before my first OB appointment, I started spotting. I called my mom, a nurse, and told her. I called the doctor on call who said to rest, drink lots of water, and see how the evening went. The next morning things were worse, and I went to see my OB. The worst part was that the staff treated me as a new OB patient. So here I was, freaking out that I might be miscarrying, and they were (innocently) handing me welcome bags full of pre-natal vitamins and pregnancy magazines. I was sent for an ultrasound (alone, which was a huge mistake in retrospect), by which time I was fairly certain I had had a miscarriage, and it confirmed my fears. I had lost my baby. And I started to cry, uncontrollably.

In my head I couldn’t understand why I was SO upset. I mean, I was only 9 weeks along. I hadn’t felt the baby move, I didn’t know if it was a boy or a girl, it was barely the size of a peanut. But I WAS upset, broken-hearted even. I was extremely emotional about it. I felt liked my body was aching. It was awful, and something I hope to never experience again in my life.

Now, it was perfectly normal to be upset, and I knew this. But for some reason I felt ashamed about the whole thing. I remember that there was something going on that next weekend where I was going to see a lot of my family. And I was so ashamed of myself, felt so stupid that I had told all these people that I was pregnant and now I had to tell them that I wasn’t. My mom and my sister had let a lot of people know, thankfully, so I was spared the agony of bursting the happy “oh, you must be so excited!” bubble. I just remember dreading seeing everyone, and having to feel like a fool. But instead, something very surprising happened.

One by one, I began to find out about all of these people, both family and friends, that had been through the exact same thing. Some lost a baby earlier on, like me, and some had to endure the unbearable trauma of losing a child at 14 or 16 or 19 weeks. I knew about a couple people, but most I didn’t. How on earth did I not know any of this? Well, I think all of those people felt just like I did. Because they didn’t tell me what they had been through in a conversation. They told me in hushed voices in the corner of the room, or whispered it in my ear when they hugged me a few minutes longer than normal. They also felt like it was something that shouldn’t be talked about.

I went on to get pregnant again about 3 months later, and then to give birth to a beautiful and healthy baby boy in April 2009. I can’t imagine not having him in my life. I can’t imagine if the baby I had lost had been Sam.....or Noah....or Georgia. But it very easily could have been. And that baby would have been just as loved, just as special, just as amazing as they are. And that is what I mourn when I start to feel that ache creep up inside me. I have such conflicting emotions about it, too. If I hadn’t had a miscarriage, I wouldn’t have gotten pregnant and had my Sam. And he is such an adorable, edible little guy. He is the baby that makes you want to have 10 more babies, he is THAT calm and easy-going. But I often wonder about that lost child. What would he or she have been like? Was it a boy? Was it the little sister that Georgia longs for? Would he have looked like Alex? Like me? Would she have been colic-y? Calm? What would we be doing for his or her first birthday that would have been right after this coming New Year’s?

It is such a tangled up mess of emotions that it literally paralyzes me sometimes. I still feel like it is something I can’t, or rather shouldn’t, talk about. I feel like people will think I am crazy to still be so easily upset about it so many months after it happened, and especially after going on to have a healthy baby. But it still hurts. I still feel like there is some missing piece of my heart that is gone forever. I ache when a new doctor asks me how many times I have been pregnant, versus how many children I have given birth to, and the answers are not the same. I still find myself asking, “what if?”

So please, let’s talk about this. Let’s talk about the fact that 25%, that’s 1 in 4 (!), pregnancies end in miscarriage. Let’s talk about the very real grief that all of those women have experienced and continue to feel. Let’s stop feeling guilty and ashamed about losing a baby, wondering if that cup of coffee, glass of wine, hair dye, etc. caused our bodies to fail us. Let’s support each other and speak out about this unspeakable loss.

I will continue to be grateful for all that I have in my life, especially my 3 beautiful babies that I get to tuck in to bed every night. Because I know that given any number of things that might have happened in my body, I could have lost them as well. And that thought will stay with me forever. There is nothing that could make me more thankful for what I have, than knowing that it, too, might have been lost.

Seriously????

Okay, I have been crazy busy the past few weeks since we got home from vacation. It seems like the whole world has just exploded and I can barely find the time to pee, let alone sit down at the computer and write. But something happened to me yesterday that I have to put into words before I lose the emotion of the moment.

I went to the grocery store yesterday. WOOHOO!!! Nope, that is not the part I am fired up about. It was 11:00 on a Sunday morning, and I didn't really want to go since I figured it was going to be busy. But seeing as I had nothing in the house to feed my kids for lunch, off to the store I went. Noah wanted to come with me to have some "mommy-time" (yeah, he LOVES grocery shopping.....go figure!). So we get in the car and head out.

Now the shopping part was fine. Uneventful. Pleasant even. There weren't many cars in the parking lot. I didn't have to wait in line at the deli (thankful for the small things, I am.) And there was even minimal whining, aside from a totally amusing tantrum from Noah over the fact that the store was out of blueberries. The amazing part started when I was walking to the check-out.

So I am not a huge fan of this grocery store, but it is the closest one to my house, and I happened to see a lot of things in their sale flier that I needed that week. One of my beefs with them is that they never have enough cashiers open. It was a revelation when they put in the self-checkout machines last year. But this day, there were 5 cashiers working, and no one in line for any of them. So I walk up the one closest to me where a gentleman is paying for his groceries and get in line. But then I hear this God-awful noise come from somewhere behind me. It was sort of like, "AAAAAAUUUUUUUUWWWWWWWWWHHHHHH!!"

What, do you ask, made this noise? I'll tell you. A 70+ year old woman who was trying to butt in front of me.

Yes. It is true. Unbeknown to me, this woman was actually trying to beat me to this cashier, hurrying along carrying her 5 items in her arms. And that sound was uttered when I arrived before her. Now, this is the same noise that Noah has recently started to make when I tell him anything he doesn't want to hear. I know this noise. It is a childish, irritating noise. So I turn around and look at her for an explanation. You know what she says to me?

"Well, I just really hate waiting."

Really? REALLY? Cause I LOVE to wait in line. LOVE IT!!! Especially when it is 11:50 AM in the grocery store with an almost three-year-old who is hungry and wants his damn blueberries that they don't have at this store. Waiting is just FABULOUS for me.

When I continue to stare at her in disbelief, she goes on to say that she doesn't like the self-checkouts because they are just too hard to use, and she really just doesn't like to wait, and she only has a few things, and it is just so frustrating to have to wait. YEAH, I GET IT. YOU DON'T LIKE TO WAIT! Welcome to the club sister.

So I found myself in a dilemma. Do I let her go in front of me? Or do I make her wait some more? I know many people would say, "Screw her, let her wait." But I let her go in front of me. Mostly because I didn't want to have to listen to her complain and whine the whole time I was trying to check out of the grocery store. But I wish my mind would've thought just a little bit faster, because about three minutes after she left I had a millions zingers for her. You know what the worst part was? She didn't even have the decency to say thank you. Just went on and checked out and left.

All I have to say is, "UGH!"

The Many Adventures of Ted E. Bear

Let me tell you about Ted. Not Teddy, not Bear, but Ted E. Bear.

This is Ted.
This is Ted sleeping with Georgia on the way to London.

This is Ted on the road to South Carolina.
And this is Ted dressed up in princess clothes, with my smiling-till-her face-hurts Georgia.
Ted is a very special member of our family.

Now I know that many, if not most kids have a lovey of some sort. I had a blanket who I called "chicky." (Yes, I referred to my blanket as a living being.....it was to me!) I still have the remains of it today. But Ted is as loved as lovies get.

A friend of ours gave Ted to Georgia when she was one month old. He sat around her room for a while, and we sat him in her crib when she was about 6 months old. She and Ted became fast friends. I have pictures of her at around 10 months old sleeping with her arms wrapped around Ted. Ted went everywhere with us, and I mean everywhere. Grocery store, music class, gym class, the grandparents' houses, the doctor, out to dinner. Ted was always there.

It amazed me how quickly Georgia became so attached to this 12 inch high stuffed bear in a bunny suit. Once I realized how important Ted was to Georgia, I went out and bought two more identical bears, but was too late. Even at 12 months old, she could figure out who the real Ted E. Bear was. She initially loved his bunny ears.....she would hold them and rub them on her cheek while she was sleeping. I started switching up the pajamas on all 3 bears, just so the bears would wear evenly. I washed all three at the same time so that they would all smell the same. (Thanks GOD these bears were machine washable.....it allowed Ted to survive serveral stomach viruses.) I fooled her for a while, but she found me out. She always picked the same bunny pajamas, and then figured out which bear went with those pj's. It was unbelievable.

So eventually I gave up, and stopped trying to spread the Ted love around. And Ted grew to be a member of our family. When she decided he had a name, he was Ted E. Bear. She would correct people who mistakenly pronounced it "Teddy Bear." She would say, "No. His name is Ted E. Bear." She wasn't into dolls, but Ted got dressed up, was bathed, fed bottles. When Noah was born, Ted was her baby. He sat in the bouncer, played in the play gym, sat in the high chair. When I watched her play with Ted, I constantly thought of "The Velveteen Rabbit." I thought about how that rabbit was so loved, so worn, with eyes and fur missing, that he became REAL. And I knew that Ted was REAL for Georgia. But I never realized just how real he was until this past weekend.

We unexpectedly traveled to my parents' house this weekend. My sister had her first baby, and she arrived a few weeks ahead of schedule. So it was a little hectic trying to figure out how and when we were going to get there. I ended up going in the morning with Sam, and Alex was going to bring the other two after school and gymnastics and dinner. I packed everything I could for the kids and brought it all with me. He just had to get the lovies, the kids, and the dog into the car. So what happened?

Yup. He forgot Ted. HE FORGOT TED!!! I had to say it again just to really emphasize the magnitude of the situation.

Oh. My. God. I could not believe it. Georgia was devastated at bedtime. Her Ted, her favorite thing in the whole wide world, was not there to cuddle while she fell asleep. Or to help her feel better in the middle of the night. And Alex.....poor, poor Alex. Oh, he felt so awful about the whole thing. We had to survive 3 nights of going to bed without Ted. AND she has a cold and isn't feeling well. It wasn't pretty. Georgia even said that maybe next time mommy could bring Ted so that he didn't get left behind.

We survived the trip, but we found Ted E. Bear as soon as we got home on Sunday. He has been hiding under the comforter on Georgia's bed. She was so happy to see him, to pick him up and squeeze the fluff out of him. I could honestly see the joy and relief on her face when she got into bed that night holding her best friend. She felt at ease, comforted, safe.

I hope Ted is able to hang in there for many, many more years.

Oh What a Beautiful Morning

We are currently on vacation in Hilton Head, South Carolina. We arrived yesterday afternoon after a 25 hour journey. No, we didn't take the world's biggest detour, but driving for 12 hours with a 2 1/2 year old and a 4 month old is tough. (Thankfully, Georgia flew down with my parents, sister, and brother-in-law. A LIFESAVER!!!) We had to make way more stops than we anticipated, and we stayed overnight about two-thirds of the way here. But overall, it was a very pleasant drive. The kids were good, we all got a great night's sleep, and we have settled in to our little home away from home.

This morning Georgia woke me up at 6:30 AM. Since I was asleep last night around 10, it wasn't so bad. She got in our bed and cuddled up to me. We watched a little Charlie and Lola (LOVE them!) and then Noah got up shortly before 7. As the two older ones snuggled under the covers with Alex, I got dressed and went out for a walk. I went down the stairs and headed to the beach on my own.

It was glorious. Truly glorious.

For anyone who hasn't been here, I highly recommend you plan a vacation here. Especially if you have kids. It is just such a laid back, relaxing, family friendly place. We have come every year since I was pregnant with Georgia, and will continue for as long as we can. But the best part of the entire island is the beach.

The beach here is amazing. It is 100 feet wide at time, flat as a pancake, and so clean. The sand is packed down so hard that many people bike on the beach everyday. And when the tide goes out, there are these amazing tidal pools all over that the kids love to jump into and splash around in. The water isn't crystal clear tropical blue, but it is warm and pretty calm. And there are sandbars that let you walk out 50 feet and still only have water up to your knees. I love it.

At 7:00 this morning the beach was so quiet. The sun had just come up. The only people out were surfers, people walking their dogs, and a few walkers like me. It wasn't hot yet, and there was a breeze blowing that could earn you a mean sunburn later in the day. And it was just me, alone with my thoughts. No one asking me to get them something, make them something, pick them up, etc. Glorious.

I walked and walked and walked. Not strolling along and pretending to walk, but walking with a purpose, with power. I watched the shrimp boats head out for the day, watched two black labs fetch a tennis ball thrown tirelessly by their person, and watched the paddle surfers catch a few waves. You know what else I did?

I breathed.

In and out, over and over. For 40 minutes I focused on nothing but breathing and taking in the view given to me by Mother Nature. I didn’t think about anything that is usually swimming around in my head. With every breath I tried to go of a little bit of all the stress I have been carrying around for the past 9 months. I didn’t worry about moving, schedules, bedtimes, money…nothing. I just tried to let it all go. It felt great.

When I got back to our vacation abode I was hot and sweaty, but also refreshed and ready to get on with the day. I was excited to have a week with my family altogether, with nothing to do but play, eat, and sleep. And I am now enjoying the reward of a busy morning at the pool and beach: THREE (that’s right! ALL of them!) sleeping children who will be ready to go out to dinner and stay up a bit later tonight.

Here’s to 7 more glorious mornings.

There He Goes

This is the time of year that parents, particularly those of us who stay at home with our children, simultaneously love and dread. It is time for the kids to head back to school. The end of summer days which allowed us to relax, not worry about getting out of the house at a certain time, and let the kids stay up just a little past bedtime to watch fireworks and catch fireflies. It is also the end of almost three months of a lack of routine and schedule, trying to come up with ways to entertain our children, and find activities for those rainy days (which we had many of this year.) I am happy to have my children back in school, and we haven't even hit kindergarten yet. My kids are so much happier when they have a schedule and they know what to expect every day. I am also hoping that the return to school will bring some stability for Georgia and help her handle our crazy family life a little better. She loves school and has been so excited for it to start this year, as she was for the two previous years. We have had a few days where there were some tears, but overall she goes in, drops off her bag and jacket, and is off and running. I love it.

Today, however, was a new day. It was Noah's first day of pre-school. My little stinker, full of his two-year-old self started his first year of school. I was a little nervous all weekend, not sure how much to talk about it, how much to build it up. We went and met his teacher on Friday, and he got to check out his classroom. And he knows the school since he went with me all last year to drop off Georgia. He used to cry because he wanted to stay at school with Georgia. But you never know how these things are going to go when the time comes to go it alone. And Noah is such a mama's boy....he would sit in my lap and have me cuddle him all day if I could. So this morning I was constantly thinking of who should be dropped off first, what I would do if he started to cry, if I could walk out leaving him there calling for me.

Then the moment arrived. We walked Georgia into her class and then went back out to the playground, where the 2's classes start their day. (I give the school much credit for knowing that the youngin's do better leaving mommy when they are in a giant sandbox or climbing on a jungle gym.) We washed our hands (lots of flu-avoiding hand-washing talk this year) and then went off to find something fun to play with. Then the dreaded goodbye.

You know what my Noah said to me? He said, "Bye, Mom. See you later. I'm going to go play." Just like that. And then he was off. I walked out of the playground, closed the gate, and got in my car with a smile a mile wide on my face. He was just as happy when I picked him up a few hours later, and is already talking about going back.

This morning was perhaps one of my proudest moments of motherhood thus far. The wings are just starting to grow, but I think they will be quite strong.

What Doesn't Kill Us....

So here is my day in a nutshell.....from the VERY beginning.

12:00 AM - 2:00 AM: I am up basically every 10 minutes with 2 sick, snotty, stuffy children. Or I am flipping the other one over because he can only roll one way, and it isn't the way he likes to sleep.

3:00 AM: Get up to feed baby who has been flipped over again, but isn't going back to sleep this time.

3:45 AM: Check on crying Georgia who has a sore throat. Give her some water, lie her down, and tell her to go back to sleep.

6:00 AM: Flip over above mentioned baby.....AGAIN!

7:00 AM: Get up because Georgia and Noah are awake. And still snotty.

8:30 AM: After feeding 3 children, sit down to eat my own bowl of cereal. Discover it is mushy. Decide I should never pour milk into the bowl when I think I am going to eat. I should wait until I actually sit down at the table and no one is crying or fighting.......but I might never eat again if that is the case.

10:10 AM: Arrive at the dentist 5 minutes EARLY (never happens!) to get a cavity filled. Wait for 20 minutes. Have an x-ray of another tooth and find out I need to have a root canal. LOVELY! Then I have to try to rinse out my mouth while I only have feeling in half of my face. Mouthwash dribbles all over.

1:30 PM: Novacaine has finally worn off and I can eat and drink without fear of eating my lip or spilling my water.

2:30 PM: Go get my haircut....the highlight of my day. Really, it was.

4:30 PM: The sitter leaves.

4:31 PM: The kids go cuckoo for cocoa nuts! Mommy's cranky pants are on, and we are in for a rough time.

5:30 - 6:00 PM: Repeatedly tell kids to start cleaning up, they say okay, and don't do anything but take out more toys. Eventually yell and start taking away bedtime stories. (I know, I am a mean, mean person.)

6:30 PM: Try to give the baby a bath with 2 naked children running around the house.

6:35 PM: Discover that non-potty trained son has pooped on the floor. YAY!

6:40 PM: Get soaked by washcloth that Georgia has flung out of the bathtub.......time for speed bathing. Lose my mind, and my temper.

7:25 PM: Pour myself a glass of wine, make some dinner and try to relax.

Anyone want to trade places?