For Reese

Today I remember a special baby girl and the family that should have been celebrating her first birthday. I don't understand. And it isn't fair. There is nothing right about losing a child. Ever.

Today I held space in my heart. I let her family know that I remembered.

We have a blue candle that we got for Calvin. We light it on the day he was delivered, and any other day we feel like it. But it hasn't been lit since this past August. Except that I took it down and lit it today. At 4:47.

We lit the candle and sat down and read our book. The book that we read for Calvin. Except that today it wasn't for my lost baby. It was for someone else's.

It was for Reese.

Halloweekend

It's November. It's November!?!? It's November!

How in the world is it already November? I am pretty much open to it being the Christmas season before Thanksgiving. I'm okay with it. I accept it. I even embrace it. I am not, however, embracing Christmas before Halloween. But, now that Halloween is over, it's time to break out the Christmas music!

Okay, I might not be quite ready for that, but it does feel like all-of-a-sudden October is over and Christmas is quietly lurking around the corner, waiting to sneak up on me and take me by surprise.

***
But first: Halloween.

Halloween was great. It was wonderful. It was more lovely and exciting than I expected, mostly because I was expecting it to be terribly stressful and overwhelming. The kids were happy and excited and Nora was pretty much the most adorable trick-or-treater ever. (Not that I'm bias or anything.) She had no clue what was going on but as soon as the first house put candy in her bucket she knew she wanted more. I only kept her out for a few blocks, but even as her head started to bob on my shoulder she refused to let me carry her bucket for her. No way was she letting anyone else touch her precious goodies.

(She has this adorable thing where when someone asks her a question she will answer it by her eyes getting wide and either shaking her head no, or nodding her head yes. Sometimes I'm not sure she actually knows what we're asking, but other times, oh she knows. Last night when
I offered to carry her candy, I got those big wide eyes and a couple of shakes of the head.)

The older girls lasted so much longer than they ever have in the past, previously coming home with buckets filled half way, and this year filling it up to the tippy top. This year I let them eat as much candy as they wanted after we got home. A totally new and foreign concept to all of us. But nobody complained of a bellyache (except me) and nobody threw up, so I'm pretty glad that I was able to just let them really indulge for one night.

Now of course it's back to the tough love of limiting candy. (I say as I sit here stuffing a Baby Ruth bar into my mouth. Shh...)

October was a good month, ending on the perfect note of children giggling and skipping down the street, of joy and excitement dressing up in favorite costumes, of sugar high after sugar high followed by a crash onto pillows, and so so much love and family.

Happy end of Halloweekend to everyone! And a big and happy welcome to November!

xoxo, christine

Transitions

We are all over the place with transitions right now.

*****

The adjustment and transition of adding a toddler to two older kids isn't quite as smooth and calm as it was with a baby. It's not even because of the literal toddling around that she is doing. She is growing, and so is her personality, and so is her drive. She is a feisty little thing, who is daring and determined. And I love her little big personality. I love it with every fiber of my being, but by the end of the day, whew, I am left exhausted.

I do not remember fourteen months being so demanding and needy. And yet, as we move further and further into the season, I have vague recollections of stubborn toddlers throwing themselves on the floor, or crinkling up their noses, or pointing adamantly at what they want (and are not getting) and screaming. I have a renewed appreciation for nap time. (Not that I was ever taking it for granted.)

*****

Also, I have recently taken it upon myself to (re)learn how to sew. For a very good reason, Adam has gained priority to the computer in the evenings, which limits its availability for writing (we have one computer and no, I can not do much writing during the day because of said fourteen-month-old). So since my creative soul was not getting what it needed from words, I turned to fabric and my mother's sewing machine.

*****

We have spent a lot of time lately discussing and contemplating what we are doing, what we want to be doing, what makes us happy, what we want for our lives, what we want for our family, where we are and where we want to be. I have spent many hours logging in thoughts on what I want and what I need and what our family needs.

I can not say that I ever imagined living in my "starter home" with three kids at age thirty-three. But then, I don't think I ever really could imagine what my life would look like at thirty-three at all. There are so many things that I am in love with about our life. There is so much that brings me happiness and joy.

But I can't help feeling like there is a whole part of my psyche, a whole big part of my soul that is unexplored and unexamined. I feel like it's that whole "you only use 2% of your brain" type of thing, except that I can (and should) be able to be using more. I have never been good at deeply exploring what makes me happy. What I am interested in. What makes me feel the most alive. I have never been a fall-head-first-into-something-and-gain-as-much-knowledge-and-experience-as-I-can type person. I am much more of a do-several-things-average/mediocre rather than become-an-expert-at-one-thing.

My husband recently cautioned me against spreading myself too thin and while I don't necessarily think it's happening, I understand and appreciate the sentiment. I tend to find something and dabble, until something gets in the way and suddenly it's too hard and too much work.

There is a part of me that thinks I need to change this. I need to fix this. And then there's a part of me that wonders if it's okay for that to just be who I am. If it's okay for me to give up every time I feel like it because if I really loved it, if it was a true passion, that drive and fire would be ignited and I would think it worth the difficulty and work to continue.

And then I go back to just wondering if I'm lazy. In which case it is most definitely something I need to change.

*****

And speaking of change, I do not like it. I have a hard time with it. I like things the way that I like them and I don't want things changing unless they change in a way that I want and I decide.

*****

Also, I'm looking for a part-time job.

And I have nothing else to say about that.

*****

All this to say, there is lot going on over here right now. It is good and exciting and scary and terrible (except not terrible), but the Being in Transitions right now is putting me all over the place. I am up and down and side to side and topsy turvy and mixed up and all around. And in it all I am trying to find what calms me, what quiets my non-stop internal conversations and gives me peace.

xoxo, christine

Pumpkin Flavored Back-to-School

It's back-to-school time which means that every social media newsfeed is full of first day of school photos, the heavy sticky air is replaced with a cool crispness, the bright green tree tops are transitioning to yellows and reds, and pumpkin-flavored everything can be found in every cafe.

Of course, our school started last week, when pretty much the only accurate part of that previous statement was the pumpkin-flavored everything. Somehow mother nature didn't get the autumn memo come September first and we reached temperatures in the nineties just in time for my kids to be in air-condition-free classrooms.

Today it actually does have a hint of autumn to the air, which makes me simultaneously happy (I love fall!) and depressed (I'm not ready for winter!).

This year I sent two kids off on the bus, and the only reason I didn't bawl was because of the huge smile Paige managed to have climbing onto the bus. Our first week was pretty jumbled and unexpected because of an unanticipated illness causing Hope to be sent home on her first day. (She gets to claim the "first child sent home sick from school" award from the school nurse.)

In any case, because of that she was not able to be on the bus with Paige for Paige's first day. Cue my mama heart almost exploding with terror and fear. But Paige handled it with more poise and maturity than I ever would have thought and asked (all my herself) the little girl at our bus stop if they could sit together. Thus, Paige's huge smile as the bus took her away, and my heart not completely splattered all over the pavement.

I can not believe that my two big girls are in school all day, and although I wish I could be one of those moms that claps her hands and does a back-to-school dance, I'm much more in the 'I miss my babies', holding-back-the-tears camp.

It does help me having Nora and home and we are s-l-o-w-l-y finding our own rythm to these week days. I'm not used to just having a little one at home so I feel like I should be able to get so much done (look at me cook and clean and clean and do stuff and and and), except that Nora's a little more needy than a five-year-old or a seven-year-old so my To Do list isn't getting crossed off quite as quickly as I was hoping.

For all of my complaining and whining and struggles though, I like it. I really do. I like that it has worked for our family for me to stay home. I like that I am available for sick-child-at-school-pick-up and middle of the day grocery runs and field trip volunteers. I like that I pack the lunches and see the big girls off on the bus each morning. I like that I was able to do Mommy and Me classes with each of my girls and have play dates and go to parks and wander aimlessly pushing a stroller around the mall in the middle of winter. I like that I can sit on the floor and play Little People with Nora as she climbs on my lap.

It will be good, this year, I know. I'm not quite plugging my fingers in my ears and running in the opposite direction of my kids growing up and school starting, but I'm not quite ready to fully embrace it yet either. This transition to back-to-school and homework and fall activities and changes in schedules is an adjustment, sometimes more so for me than for anyone else in my family. But it will be good. I know it will.

Now excuse me while I try to get myself in the spirit with some pumpkin muffins.

xoxo, christine

August 17

It's two week later. Two weeks and I didn't write a post for my baby boy. If it were any of my girls I would've made sure to sit down and write. If not the day of, at least within the next several days. If it had been for any of the girls it would've been a birthday post.

But I didn't. I haven't.

And now here it is, almost two weeks after the anniversary of saying hello and goodbye. Except we never got to say hello.

I don't like calling it his birthday. I can't explain it any better than to say it doesn't feel like it was his birthday, even though I suppose I technically birthed him that day.

That is the day they gave me drugs to induce pain. Drugs to help my body recognize that the baby inside me was no longer alive. Drugs to help get him out of my womb and into a tomb.

(Too cold? Too vivid?)

I don't like to call it his birthday because I know that if things had been different, if life had been different, if he had been different, it wouldn't have been his birthday. You might tell me You never know but I do. I know. His body came into our world two and half months early.

He wouldn't have been two and half months early. He would've come at the expected time. The end of October or beginning of November. I know you'll tell me I can't know, but I know. I just do.

August 17th would not have been his birthday.

If things were different.

But they weren't. He was never meant to make it nine months. He was never meant to say hello. He was never meant to live.

He came into our world already gone. And that is they day we remember.

I won't call it his birthday.

(Except to my girls, because for right now that's the easiest. But even when they say, "It's Baby Calvin's Birthday!" or "Baby Calvin's two!" it makes me flinch. Because it doesn't feel right. Not to me.)

The day came and went and we recognized it in the way we did last year, with flowers, a bridge, and quiet words. With love sent out into the universe.

He didn't get a birthday post this year. But of course, he never gets a birthday post. Still, there is guilt. There is always guilt.

I did not miss it because I was too busy. It was not because I couldn't find the time to write. It was not because the day passed unnoticed. It was not because Calvin, my son, is not important.

I did not write a post, I have not written in so long, because I don't want to feel my feelings. I don't want to think about or process or spend any time exploring the lurchy gurchy whatever-they-are feelings regarding the loss of my son.

Lately, when something starts to sneak into the corners of my mind I pinch it with my fingernails and throw it into a box as quickly as I can, eager to avoid any of the feeling. I hide that box in the back of the back of the back of the backest closet of my mind.

Basically, I do the extremely healthy thing of avoiding it at all costs. (I do actually realize this is not the healthy thing.)

It's not because I don't love him. It's not because I don't think he's important. It's just because, right now, I can't. Or I don't want to. Or I can't and don't want to. I don't know. Maybe it's all the same.

Either way, it doesn't change reality. He is still not here. And right now that's pretty much all I can say.

I would do it all again a million times over, even knowing that I would never get to hear him cry, look deep into his eyes, kiss his nose, and tell him I love you.

But I do. Oh I do.

Rock-A-Bye Baby

It is late. Later than usual.

I push open the door and a triangle of light falls across her body. She is in her usual sleeping position, belly down, feet tucked under, butt up in the air.

As I tiptoe toward her she stirs, and I pause hoping not to disrupt her. She has not been sleeping through the night lately.

Her eyelids flutter and she pushes onto all fours. There is no sound, no cry, not even a little peep. Just the rustling of her body movement into standing position. She is still mostly asleep yet vertical in front of me.

I know all of the reasons I shouldn't, all the reasons I will probably regret doing it, but I pick her up anyway.

One leg tucked on either side of me, her head falls to my shoulder and I am acutely aware of how unbaby-like this position is. She is more of a toddler with each passing day.

Her body pressed against me, our breathing finds a rhythm, the rise and fall of each breath in perfect synchronization. And I am so glad I picked her up. No matter what difficulties it might lead to later.

We sway together for a few more minutes before I gently lay her back down. I expect that it will not be this easy, that there will be crying, back rubbing, maybe even nursing. I expect that it will be many minutes until I get to my own bed.

But when I lay her down she rolls onto her belly, clutching her pink bunny. Her eyes are still closed, her breathing is heavy. I touch her matted hair and kiss her head.

I close the door with my baby sleeping soundly on the other side.

Our quiet moment. The perfect ending to the day. The comfort of those few minutes with my baby tucks me into bed, promising sweet dreams for both of us.

xoxo, christine

It's Not Just Texting Anymore

Okay, here goes. I am going to be very real here. Because this is a very real issue.

Last night I read this post on Facebook from Momastery. (If you don't have the desire, or time, to read it I will summarize it as basically addressing the issue of being distracted by our phones while driving, how careless it is, how most everyone does it, how we're putting everyone in danger, and how she and her husband made a contract to put their phones in the glove compartment while driving to keep the temptation away. She says so much more than this though, I encourage you to read it.)

Her post led to a conversation with my husband. Although glued to his phone, he does not have nearly as many opportunities as I do to put himself and our kids at risk. Unlike me he is at work all day, and unlike me he takes public transportation during the day. However, HOWEVER, we both have done it. We both have been in the car, in the driver's seat, and checked our phones.

Here's the thing. We think that because we're not texting, because we aren't tapping away at the screens and squinting to find the right letters that we're safe. We're not texting and driving, oh no, not me. I would never be so reckless and careless and stupid to do that. But it doesn't matter. It's not just texting anymore. It's EVERYTHING.

Do you peek at your phone while driving? Do you? Because I know I do. And I know other people do to. I've looked over when passing other cars and seen them. My phone "dings" announcing a new text and I just peek at it to see who it's from. I'm stopped at a red light and I just peek at Instagram to see who posted since I last checked.

I'm not texting. I'm not. I'm just checking. It's just a quick glance. No biggie, right? Wrong.

Are we really so addicted to our phones that we can't go twenty minutes without looking at it? Are we so attached to our electronics that we can't just drive our cars? Why does being in the car automatically feel like the best time to make a phone call? Why does a red light seem like a perfect opportunity to check in on Facebook?

My husband and I have made an agreement. Our phones go away when we are in the driver's seat. I have three kids in the car with me ninety-nine percent of the time. I do not need another distraction. I have three perfect and beautiful and wonderful distractions who I would die for. Why in the world would I be willing to put them at risk by checking my stupid phone?

Not anymore. Not ever again.

This morning I saw this video circulating Facebook. I'm pretty sure it's the video Glennon mentions in her post. It is terrible and painful and raw. And the woman in it is not texting. She is not. She is peeking. She is peeking at her phone and the end result is the worst thing imaginable.

We think that if we're not texting it's okay. It's not that bad. It's not that distracted.

It is.

Please stop. Please make a contract, a pact, a vow to put and KEEP your phone away while in the driver's seat. It's not just texting anymore. It's "peeking" too. It's "checking" too.

Please put your phone away. Please please please. For your family, for your kids, for your safety, for everyone else out on the road. Do not check your phone while driving. It can wait.

xoxo,
christine