At the Drive-In

I've written twice about "The Other Times"- times when parenting is so hard, so rough, so brutal that you forget why you signed up for this for a few hectic moments.  But if there are "other times", that means that there are just plain "times". Times when parenting is so magical, so memorable that you believe for a few brief moments that you could do this 10 more times.  July 3rd was a time.

The morning didn't just start off on the wrong foot, it started off on the wrong feet...and hands...and elbows.  Jack had no interest in getting up and after a bout of "not nice hands", Trevor was at his wits' end.  Life with a 2.5 year old is like working on a bomb squad.  This little ticking time bomb clicks and Trevor and I just look at each other trying to figure out how to defuse him.  "Cut the green wire!" I'll shout.  "No, it's the red wire!" Trevor replies.  And as we try to figure out what wire to cut, the bomb sits there ticking until its inevitable explosion or diffusion by sheer luck on our part.  The thing of it is, for me, cutting a green wire works, for Trevor, cutting the red wire works.  Jack is not a one size fits all kind of kid.  Wednesday started out a minefield kind of day.

A few days before, Trevor had the idea to try and take Jack to his first movie at the drive-in nearby.  Could it be?  Could we tempt fate and have a magical family night under the stars with this little bomb?  We seldom dare to dream of those moments these days, but deciding it was all worth the risk, we decided to go.

We both picked Jack up from preschool that afternoon and saw his little curly head from behind running laps around the playground, his little blue running shoes kicking up dust like a cartoon character.  When he saw us, he ran over to the gate shouting "Mama!  Daddy!  Brother!"  We scooped him up and hugged him and told him of the amazing night we had planned for him.  I've learned not to over-sell him on our plans.  Once upon a time I took him to Bounce Land promising him the time of his life, promising him it was the Disney World of Kalamazoo.  And what did he do?  Play with a train table and avoid the bouncy stuff completely (until Trevor dragged him up a massive slide which he actually loved.  Joke was on Trevor when Jack begged to go back up that massive slide 4 more times).

Trevor packed us up for a night at the drive-in- blankets, pillows, bug spray, lawn chairs, diaper bag etc, etc. He remembered it all.  With Aunt Bean and her friend Sierra (She-Ra per Jack) in the back, we set off toward the drive-in.  We got into town and decided to go through a drive-through for some dinner.  And we waited.  And waited.  And waited.  We waited so long that we were afraid the elderly man in line in front of us passed away in his car.  The car ahead of him moved forward and he stayed put, un-moving with the car in park.  "Oh no!  He didn't even get his last meal because this line is moving so freaking slowly!" I said, seconds before he put the car in gear and moved up.  Phew.

Burgers and chicken nuggets were passed to the way back (I have a car with a "way back" now, I'm officially a parent) and we set off toward the Capri.  As we got closer we saw hundreds of brake lights dotting the side of the road.  We followed the line of cars down a side street and around the bend and found ourselves behind the most massive line of cars I've ever seen.  Trevor looked positively crestfallen and I was now regretting not getting any food at the restaurant.  Were we going to make it?  Would we find ourselves at the front of the line only to be told it was sold out?  I looked in the back of the car and saw the pillows and blankets and bags and the hopeful little faces of our passengers.  "Trevor," I said, "I did not drive all the way to Coldwater to watch people eat Burger King!  We're going to make it!"  With each car that inched its way through the gate, the mood got lighter in the car.  When we finally got through the ticket booth, it was like entering the gates of heaven itself.  We quickly found a spot which Trevor backed into so we could use that "way back" to its full advantage.

Trevor went into full dad mode, setting up lawn chairs, creating a cozy nest of pillows and blankets and passing out snacks he had wisely purchased at a gas station.  He even got us all popcorn because seeing movies without popcorn is like eating bacon without extra helpings of bacon.  As the movie began (Despicable Me 2), Jack climbed into Sierra/She-Ra's lap and Trevor and I held our breath waiting for that bomb to go off.  And it didn't.  This little guy was enjoying himself.  He didn't try to escape or run screaming into traffic, he just sat there eating popcorn under a Spider-Man blanket.  Thank you baby Jesus.  Meanwhile I sat in the way back with Will nursing him in the little nest his dad had built for us.  Jack gazed skyward and whispered "stars" to the group and Trevor scooped him up to point out constellations.  Little Dipper, North Star, our little boy who shares his middle name with a star looked up with all of the kind of awe and wonder that you hope never goes away.

As the credits rolled on the first movie, we thought for sure Jack would turn into a pumpkin, but that guy just kept going as Monsters University began.  Eventually I put a sleeping Will on Trevor's lap and we moved a sleepy Jack into the crook of his arm while the 3 of them climbed into the way back nest.  The sight of them back there swelled my heart up to the point I thought it would burst.  Jack finally fell asleep around 1am and at the end of the movie, Trevor put both boys in their car seats and we made our way home.  "This was the greatest parenting night ever." Trevor said and I agreed.  "The good times are starting to outnumber the tough times." I said.  And as we drove down the highway under a blanket of stars we relished that fact.

Someday, I hope Jack remembers how good it feels to have his dad's strong arms carry him up to bed, gently lay him down and whisper "good night, Jack."  I'll always remind him of it when he forgets.

The Terrible Twos can beat you down and wear you out.  Cutting the green wire doesn't always work and sometimes the bomb just goes off.  I worry sometimes that I'm losing my boy in all of the noise.  He's getting so big, but still so small.  He knows so much and so little.  But with each day that passes, he learns to control his impulses a bit more, he masters the elusive vocabulary that allows him to ask for what he needs and he becomes a bit more boy and a little less baby.

Getting into that drive-in that night was a huge metaphor for life with 2 very young kids.  You want so badly to have a nice dinner together without tantrums and tears.  You want so badly to go out to a museum or aquarium without incident.  You want so badly to do these things as a family and most of the time it just never quite works out.  Well that night, it did.  We got through that incredibly long line, we got through the evening without tears or tantrums.  Everything just worked out and it was grand.

The next day was the 4th of July and again, Trevor and I had grand illusions of watching the fireworks from the pontoon boat out at his grandparent's house. We imagined the look in Jack's eyes as he watched them explode in the sky, a rainbow of light and fire and magic!  Jack watched exactly 2 fireworks before shouting "OFF BOAT!  OFF BOAT!" and rattling the door.  

"Well Trevor, apparently we're allowed one magical family night per week and we used ours at the drive-in."

There will be many more fireworks and pontoon rides and 4th of July celebrations, but there will only ever be one of those nights at the drive-in.  

And as long as I live I'll never forget it.

At the drive-in 7/3/13

Coming Home

I come from a long line of martyrs and food addicts.  If the women in my family were Biblical characters we would have had our last supper and our last dessert before turning ourselves over to the Romans.  I thought for a long time that I had avoided that trait until I realized that women in my family don't really become martyrs until they have children.  For some reason the gene must lay dormant in the uterus until through its expansion it activates this belief that everything we are up to this moment has vanished and we must give ourselves over to our children at the expense of ourselves.

But before I get to here, I have to go back to there.

I was never a chubby kid.  Looking back I looked completely average- right down to the requisite awkward years from 4th-8th grade.  In high school I was never the skinniest.  The hips that would eventually help me bear these children began to take shape, but I never felt terrible about myself.  In college I found myself in an incredibly unhealthy relationship while I struggled to come to terms with my parents' divorce.  When my parents and siblings moved me into my dorm freshman year, it was the last time I saw them all together until I graduated from college 5 years later and all of the residual pain and confusion from that time grew and grew and I allowed it to manifest itself into a body that hid who I was from the world.  Eventually I found myself in a much healthier relationship with a man who actually had a 2 bedroom apartment with 1 bedroom devoted to working out.  He had a TV mounted to the wall, a treadmill, weight bench, the whole nine.  In his own gentle way, he nudged me toward a healthier lifestyle.  

Not too long after we began dating I found a 3 pack of Billy Blanks Tae-Bo VHS tapes that I had purchased in college.  I sat there staring at the toothy grin of Mr. Banks and on a whim put in the first tape and DIED.  That bastard almost killed me!  But dammit if he wasn't incredibly inspiring and charismatic and so I kept going.  I had to drag a kitchen chair into my office where I worked out to support myself while I tried to master those leg lifts.  But eventually, I abandoned the chair, got stronger and because enough time had passed traded in those VHS tapes for DVDs.  Working out became a 5-6 times/week activity.  By the early spring of 2005 I was wearing 5 lb weights on both ankles and 3 lb weights on both wrists as I did my workout.  I lost 56 lbs.  One of my coworkers commented to me that he had run into someone we used to work with that said, "Hey, I heard Nancy got really hot."  "Correction," I said, "I was always really hot."  As funny as this may sound, as the scale went up and down, I always maintained some confidence in myself sandwiched in between self-deprecation. My own form of body dysmorphia, I stood in the mirror overweight and always saw someone thin.  

I liked who I was back then, I liked shopping for clothes in the single digits.  I never dreaded a costume fitting and welcomed photographs.  For 4 years I managed to maintain my weight despite being in a new relationship with a guy named Trevor who had a fully stocked bar in his basement.  He converted an old refrigerator into a kegorator (which we still have) and yet I still kept the weight off.

I got pregnant in the spring of 2010.  At the time I was about 20 lbs more than what I would have liked.  Marriage brings about its own form of the "Freshman 15" once the fear of not fitting into a custom designed wedding dress goes away.

The weight crept up rapidly.  At the time I loved to think that it was all happening to me.  Water retention was happening to me, joint pain was happening to me.  I had become someone helpless to everything that was happening like I was going through an out of body experience.  Breastfeeding did not prove to be the magic bullet of weight loss that celebrities with personal chefs and trainers tell you it will be and guess what?  Chasing your kids around doesn't make you lose weight.  I want to rip the "Body after Baby" sections out of every gossip magazine on this earth.  Seriously People magazine, get an editor who's a mom.

I gained 50 lbs in my pregnancy with Jack.  I lost none of it.  Why I lost none of it would, for quite some time, be blamed on hormones, being too busy to exercise, being insatiably hungry from all the breastfeeding and any other excuse du jour that I could think of.  But the truth is that after Jack was born, I didn't see myself anymore.  If I was really paying attention, I'd see a photograph of me where I thought my eyes sparkled nicely or my hair looked good, but I'd never let my gaze fall below my neck.  How sad looking back on that time.  Everything below my neck had been what both created and sustained a person for over 2 years, first through pregnancy, then through nursing.  But I wanted nothing to do with that part of me.  I resented that part of me and eventually I just stopped seeing it.

That blindness allowed me to get pregnant for a second time before being as healthy as I should have been.  Where my first pregnancy was relatively smooth and illness free, the second one was plagued with problems.  I gained 50 lbs in my first pregnancy and gained 8 in my second.  8 lbs.  This was mostly due to the fact that nausea made me lose weight early on and kept me from eating much for over half of my pregnancy.  It certainly wasn't due to the fact that I was any better about diet or exercise.

Coming home from the hospital with Will, I felt like a truck had run over me.  The out of shape body I brought with me to the hospital had valiantly delivered this baby but had nothing left for me.  And that's why women in my family are mama martyrs.  Once our babies were out of our bodies we lost all love for our stomachs, hips, legs and arms despite all that they had given us.  We stop seeing ourselves after our children are born.  I saw it happening to me and it scared the hell out of me.  After weeks of pain and the somber realization that I don't have enough energy to raise 2 boys I made some changes.

10 years after discovering those Tae-Bo tapes, exercise still hurts, but I'm doing it.  I have decided that I'd rather get a hug from my son than from a cupcake so I joined Weight Watchers.  Trevor and I started the Couch to 5K running program.  I feel my body starting to come back.  On June 14th, Trevor and I set off for Week 1, Day 1 of Couch to 5K.  90 seconds of running felt like torture and I was taken back to my old apartment 10 years ago when I had to use a kitchen chair to get through a simple leg lift.  If a senior citizen mall-walking brigade had come through my neighborhood they would have lapped me for sure, but when we got back to the driveway after that first day, I didn't care, I was so happy to have done it.  As for Billy Blanks, we'll catch up again soon.  I have missed that sweaty bastard.

Day 1 with my little running companion

He's proud of me, I just know it

Tonight I took full advantage of a breezy, cool night to complete Week 3, Day 2 of the program.  90 seconds of walking, 90 seconds of running, 3 minutes of walking, 3 minutes of running and repeat.  The great gift that running has given me is that I can't ignore my body anymore.  I feel the earth under my feet as it travels up my legs, into my stomach and out through my arms.  I saw fireflies sail over backyard fences and I breathed in the fruits of my neighbors' beautiful flower gardens.  As I walked the last leg of the program home, I saw our house with the garage lights on.  3 lights.  I imagined that each one represented the person inside of that house for whom I am embarking on this journey.  Those cheerful beacons welcomed me home.  I want to be around for a long time for them.  I want to be around for a long time for me too.  Coming home tonight felt like I was coming home to myself and it felt good.

At my 6 week post-partum checkup, my midwife lifted up my shirt and said "Oh you poor honey."  It was covered in bumps and bruises from the injections and newly formed stretch marks.  "My stomach is a roadmap of motherhood," I told her.  "All those marks tell a story."

The story of how I became a mother is well chronicled in the dozens of blog entries I've written over the years.  The story of how I won't lose me in the process has been told here.

As a footnote, the song that came on my iPod as I started out tonight is one of my most favorites- Warning by Incubus.  No coincidence there, just another wink from God.

Bat your eyes girl. 
Be otherworldly. 
Count your blessings. 
Seduce a stranger. 
What's so wrong with being happy? 
Kudos to those who see through sickness yeah 
 
She woke in the morning. 
She knew that her life had passed her by 
She called out a warning. 
Don't ever let life pass you by. 

I suggest we 
Learn to love ourselves, 
Before its made illegal 
When will we learn, When will we change 
Just in time to see it all come down 

Those left standing will make millions 
Writing books on the way it should have been 

She woke in the morning. 
She knew that her life had passed her by 
She called out a warning. 
Don't ever let life pass you by. 

The Birth Story: The Sequel

Nothing about this pregnancy would have part of anyone's birth plan.  It was not the birth story that any expectant mother dreams or hopes for, in fact, it was perfect in its imperfection.  But as imperfect as it was, the result was beyond anything I could have wished for.  This is the story of how William Malcolm came into the world.

It's impossible to begin this birth story without backtracking a bit to the pregnancy story.  I remember the night we found out we were having another baby.  It was a Monday night, August 27 and Trevor was giving Jack a bath.  I took a pregnancy test into our downstairs bathroom and faster than you can say "I should have chugged down one more glass of wine" 2 pink lines appeared on that stick.  I took the test upstairs to the bathroom where Jack was rolling around in the tub splashing Trevor in the face.  "Hey guess what?" I said.  "We're having a baby."  Trevor, his glasses covered in water droplets, broke out into a huge grin.  "Jack!  You're going to be a big brother!"

Three weeks later I was in the emergency room with what I thought was a pulled muscle which ended up being 3 blood clots in the deep veins of my right calf.  So began a 9 month journey that would test every fiber of my being as I made it my mission to get this baby into the world as healthy and whole as I could.

And now, the birth story.

Birth Story (n): The tale of how a pregnant woman gets a baby out from under her ribs into the waiting hands of a doctor who has gotten way too familiar with her insides without even buying her dinner first.

Tonight I taught Jack how to give Eskimo kisses on our last night as a trio. Hearing him laugh and say "more noses" was everything. Tomorrow we head to the hospital to meet this little boy. It's the ending of winter and the beginning of spring and also the changing of seasons for our little family. Prayers and good thoughts are most welcome!

Hey Mark Zuckerberg!  Were you aware that waxing poetic on your website can send a woman into labor?  Well it can!

A few minutes before 9pm on Tuesday April 30th, I sent that note out into Facebook in anticipation of the induction I was scheduled for at 5pm the following day.  For some reason, Jack didn't want to go to bed that night so Trevor, Jack and I cuddled on our bed watching a movie before he finally relented and let Trevor take him upstairs.  Looking back, I feel that he just knew something monumental was about to happen.  Jack has had a 6th sense about this pregnancy for weeks now and I think he knew somehow that we all needed one more night with just the 3 of us before everything changed.

No sooner had I hit "enter" on that status that a whopper of a contraction hit me.  A few minutes later my brother called me to say hi and wish me well and during the entire conversation?  Contractions.  Hmmm.

After another came on strong I asked Trevor to pull up a contraction timer app on his phone (modern parenting for the win).  5 minutes, 4 minutes, 6 minutes, 5 minutes.  They just weren't stopping.  You know things were getting serious when I put my bra on.  Awful contractions are no excuse for going to the hospital full native.  My mom was called.  In the words of Rafiki in "The Lion King": "It is time!"  In the meantime, our wonderful friend and next door neighbor Angie was called to come wait for my mom so someone could be with Jack.

See, all the logistics change when it's your second child.  You can't just drive willy nilly into the night to go to the hospital.  Baby monitor ranges don't extend that far.  If they did, we'd have saved a lot of money on babysitting costs.

Trevor called the after hours number for my OB practice.  Dr. Goodspeed was on call.  Oh good.  A doctor who I had met once during my entire pregnancy...again!  The same thing happened with Jack's delivery.  I had moved to this new practice to work with the midwives, so I'd never have to have a strange man gaze inside my lady parts again, but midway through my pregnancy, the practice decided to abandon the OB side and all the midwives left for other practices.  So I was left with a doctor again, but to be honest, it could have been Dr. Seuss, Dr. Pepper or Dr. Teeth on call that night and I wouldn't have cared, I was just so ready to meet my son.

Dr. Goodspeed advised Trevor to have me wait an hour and see what happened.

"NO.  We're going now." I said with a vice grip hold on our kitchen counter.

Trevor dutifully relayed the message.  This is not his first time at the rodeo.  Trevor knows that once labor starts I become a honey badger.  Dr. Goodspeed gave us the green light to come to the hospital.  I like to think that he glanced at a chart at that moment that said:  "Nancy, age 34.  Don't trifle with this broad, she doesn't mess around."  A quick hug to Angie and we set off into the night toward the hospital.

Husbands/partners/drivers, there is no winning on that drive.  If you drive too fast, you will hit every bump and pothole and be yelled at.  If you drive too slow you will be encouraged to pick. it. up!  Also, you will hit every single red light.  It's the Murphy's Law of Labor.

Trevor pulled into the drive to let me out at the door so he could park the car.  I told him I'd wait for him in the lobby.  But as soon as I got to the lobby I just made a beeline for the elevator.  There were people milling around the lobby and I didn't want to star in my own one woman interpretive dance show on deep breathing.  I asked the woman at the front desk to send my husband up to the 4th floor when he arrived.  "He's wearing a red shirt...no, a brown shirt...nevermind, he has glasses."  She nodded at the delirious woman, something she must be very skilled at doing in her line of work.

Triage.  The worst.

A nurse met me at triage and handed me a hospital gown with 900 snap buttons and 350 ties before leaving me staring at this huge piece of cloth blinking.  I sort of draped it around me like a toga.  I must have looked like Little Caesar after ingesting a few of his $5 Hot 'n Readies after a long night of drinking.  A different nurse came back and said "Oh, we should have prepped that gown for you."  So I was not headed into labor looking like a Roman emperor.  By now Trevor  had found us and the nurse asked me to go pee in a cup.  Peeing in a cup while contracting is like being asked to crochet a quilt while jumping on a trampoline.  I might have gotten a single cc of pee in that cup.  I trust that they got what they needed from that droplet since they didn't bug me about it again.  Next up?  A cervical exam!

Are you someone who enjoys when people push on a bruise?  Do you take pleasure in soaking your paper cuts in a bath of salty lemon water?  Then you will love having a cervical exam while in labor.  "5cm!" she exclaimed in voice not entirely unlike the Target lady that Kristen Wiig plays on Saturday Night Live.  So by now it was clear that the train had left the station and wasn't slowing down.  Neither was my heartbeat.  And then, the big question.  "What is your plan for pain management?"

It's no secret to anyone who has asked that I did not have an epidural with Jack.  I am not anti-epidural, but during that entire pregnancy, I had such faith in my body, things were so easy.  Not this time.  The pain was excruciating and everything was happening so fast.  My blood pressure was on the rise.  I started to cry and looked at Trevor.  I told him I wanted some pain relief.  I wanted something about this pregnancy to not hurt so badly.  After more than 500 injections and 20 weeks of crippling nausea, I wanted to end this pregnancy with some sense of calm.  As much as I was dreading being induced, the thought that things would be controlled was comforting to me.  I don't regret that decision at all as I was afforded some calm and Trevor and I were able to rest for awhile before the main event.

At my hospital, the nurses ask you about 1,000 questions while you're in active labor.  Everything from "Are you opposed to having the birth announcement in the local paper?" to "Are we tying your tubes today?" Not only do they ask you these questions, they have you sign documents in the height of your delirium.  Could these documents possibly hold up in a court of law?  I don't even remember half of what I was signing.  I'm certain my signature looked something like this:

After 4 hours in the hospital, at 2:45 in the morning, the pushing began.  Exactly 20 minutes later I met my son.  May 1st at 3:05 in the morning- the very first May baby born in the hospital.  I don't know if I could ever adequately describe in words what it's like to meet your child for the first time.  This little stranger suddenly becomes the most familiar person in the entire room to you.  A long lost friend who has found you again.  That's just what it's like.  His cries were loud and strong.  They placed his warm body on my chest as I looked into his eyes for the first time.  Deep dark eyes crying out the last vestiges of some exciting past life.  We stared at each other as my tears mixed with his.  "We made it, little one.  Happy birthday sweet boy, we made it."  I held him closely, this little miracle who had laid alongside me in the trenches of this complicated pregnancy.  We made it.

Trevor cut the cord.  It splashed in his face.  In his face.  I thought I'd share that detail to add some levity to what has quickly become a very emotional tale.  Being my birth coach is a full contact sport.  It's safe to say I wouldn't have been in this state without him, but it's a guarantee that I couldn't have gotten through any of it without him either.  People ask me if I ever wrote a birth plan.  I haven't, but I can tell you if I did it would have two things written down- Keep an open mind and have Trevor alongside me the whole time.

"I think he's a William," said Trevor the proud father.  "Yeah," I agreed.  "Happy birthday William Malcolm."  He is named for two very important people in our lives.  William Shakespeare, the man who brought his parents together and Captain Malcolm Reynolds, the beloved hero of Trevor's favorite TV show.  A wish for him to live his life with passion and adventure, to be observant of the world around him while maintaining a healthy skepticism and sense of humor.  A strong name for a strong little man who will surely be able to hold his own with his big brother, who, I am happy to say, is completely in love with him.

Will was born on the most beautiful day of the entire year.  We brought him home on a Friday afternoon.  I sat in the front seat with the window down breathing in the warm spring air.  In the short time we'd been away, our lilac bush had come into full bloom right outside of our bedroom window.  Nearly two weeks later, we continue to gaze at our lilacs while we nurse and nap and bond.  Winter is officially over and spring is here.  A new season, a new baby, new life, so much hope.

We just celebrated our first Mother's Day together surrounded by family.  I ended the day on my bed, one son tucked under my arm and the other curled up on my chest.  How did this happen? How am I suddenly a mother of 2?  Who will these little boys grow up to be?  My sister wrote this to my mom for Mother's Day, "Our souls choose our parents."  I am so thankful these little souls chose me.

And that, my friends, is my birth story- the sequel.  The story of how the most imperfect journey can still lead you to exactly where you need to be.  They say that sequels never quite live up to the original.  This sequel certainly had more spectacle and adventure, but I like to think that my two birth stories are the Godfather and Godfather II of birth stories, each one wonderful in their own right.  If we decide to have a 3rd baby, I will change this metaphor to Indiana Jones.  No one deserves a Godfather III birth story.  No one.

Dear Jack

My Sweet Jack,

In just a few days you're going to be a brother.  I know you won't remember life before he comes, but I want you to know that these 2 years and 4 months of our little trio has brought me so much joy.  I remember feeling the same nervous excitement in the days leading up to your birth.  How will I know what to do?  How will things change between your dad and me?

Somehow, your dad and I figured out how to be parents.  You taught us.  And things did change between your dad and me.  We grew to love each other so much more because you forever made us a family.  All of a sudden there was this little person in the world that had my eyes and your dad's lips.  Your face was the merging of the two of us.  To this day, when I look at you, I see the best of everything we are.

One of our first family photos

Thank you for showing us how to be parents.  For showing us how to slow down and see how wondrous this world is.  We have loved seeing the world again through your eyes.  I remember when you discovered Lake Michigan for the first time.  It was a sunny summer morning in August in Grand Haven.  The wind was whipping so hard through your hair and you laughed from the deepest part of your soul as all five of your senses magically burst into life.  Cold water rushed up to your calves as you clutched dad's hand.  I remember looking out into the vast lake.  I saw the whitecaps cut against the steely gray water.  I saw seagulls magically take flight against the wind.  I took all of that in and I laughed too.  I laughed from the deepest part of my soul too and together our whole family laughed, all thanks to you.

So here we are on the verge of a brave new world for our family.  Your brother has outgrown his hiding place and he's ready to meet you.  And it is our turn to teach you.  You are the oldest child of two oldest children and if there is one thing that we know how to do, it's how to be older siblings.  It's not always easy having a sibling, but if there is one thing I can promise you, it's that you will be one of the most important people in his life.

You refused to smile for this picture.  Your dad had to hold the sign  in one hand and an Avengers Golden Book in the other and that's what you're looking at smiling. We know the way to your heart.

The next few days will be strange and sometimes scary for all of us, just like the days before you were born.  But this little family can go through anything together.  My wish for you is to remember that day on Lake Michigan.  You holding dad's hand against those strong gusts of wind.  It was a brand new exhilarating experience and as new and scary as it was for you, you found the joy in it.  You will find the joy in this new experience and every single one that follows.  That's the kind of incredible person you are. 

We love you so much Jack.  Thank you for being such a sweet, curious, exuberant little boy.  On the day you were born, the #1 song on the radio was "Firework". That is exactly what you are.  

Brighter than the moon.  

That's my Jack.

Love,

Mama

One More Week

Unless little guy has other plans, in one week I will be checking into the hospital to bring this new life into the world.  Yes, that means they are inducing me and I have some mixed feelings about it.  I think every woman hopes that her pregnancy goes off without a hitch and that things progress as naturally as possible.  Nothing about this pregnancy has been smooth sailing, but seeing it come to an end brings so many emotions.  The reason for the induction has to do with the timing of the medication I'm on and not wanting it in my system at the time that I deliver.  Both a doctor and a midwife who I trust at my practice believe it to be the best course of action and promised to be gentle with me.  My body has carried us this far and I trust it to see the baby and me through to the end which is now very close.

So I've been thinking a lot about birth today and all of the changes it will bring to our family.  I wonder how Jack will take the new addition.  But today, God gave me a wink.  Two separate friends on Facebook who don't know each other posted photos of their young sons with captions about how much they love each other.  Those photos, literally taken across the world from each other, have made me so happy thinking about the great gift we're about to give Jack.  Message received. 

A few years ago, I read a book called "Orbiting the Giant Hairball".  The author opens the book with the following passage that has always, always stuck with me.  There are, and have been, so many forces keeping me and this baby safe for 9 months.  I take all of that positive energy with me into the delivery room next week or maybe sooner if this little guy decides he's ready to be born.

Enjoy the story that follows and remember that birth isn't an event that only happens upon our first breath, every day we have the potential to reinvent who we are.

And it's never, ever too late to do something with that canvas.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Before you were born, God came to you and said:

Hi there! I just dropped by to wish you luck, and to assure you that you and I will be meeting again soon. Before you know it.

You’re heading out on an adventure that will be filled with fascinating experiences. You’ll start out as a tiny speck floating in an infinite dark ocean. Quite saturated with nutrients. So you won't have to go looking for food or a job or anything like that. All you’ll have to do is float in the darkness. And grow incredibly. And change miraculously.

You’ll sprout arms and legs. And hands and feet. And fingers and toes.

As if from nothing your head will take form. Your nose, your mouth, your ears will emerge.

As you continue to grow bigger and bigger, you will become aware that this dark, oceanic environment of yours – which when you were tiny, seemed so vast is now actually cramped and confining. That will lead you to the unavoidable conclusion that you’re going to have to move to a bigger place.

After much groping about in the dark, you will find an exit. The mouth of a tunnel.

“Too small,” you’ll decide. “Couldn’t possibly squeeze through there.”

But there will be no other apparent way out. So with primal spunk, you will take on your first “impossible” challenge and enter the tunnel.

In doing so, you will be embarking on a brutal no-turning back, physically exhausting, claustrophobic passage that will introduce you to pain and fear and hard physical labor. It will seem to take forever, but the mysterious undulations of the tunnel itself will help squirm you through and finally, after what will seem like interminable striving, you will break through to a blinding light.

Giant hands will pull you gently but firmly, into an enormous room. There will be several huge people, called adults, huddling around you, as if to greet you. If it is an old-fashioned place, one of these humongous people may hold you upside down by the legs and give you a swat on the backside to get you going.

All of this will be what the big people on the other side call being born. For you, it will be only the first of your new life’s many exploits.

God continues:

I was wondering, while you’re over there on the other side, would you do me a favor?

“Sure!” you chirp.

Would you take this artist’s canvas with you and paint a masterpiece for me? I’d really appreciate that.

And remember:

If you go to your grave
without painting
your masterpiece,
it will not
get painted.
No one else
can paint it.

Only you.

~Gordon MacKenzie

A New Season

Something happens in Michigan during the middle of March.  Winter starts to integrate itself with spring.  You may be scraping ice and snow off of your windshield on Monday and driving with your windows down on Tuesday.  If March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb, then the middle of March in Michigan is a liolamb- a chameleon that changes frequently, sometimes snowy white and sometimes robin egg blue.

My due date is in the spring.  As long as we were battling freezing temperatures and lake effect snow warnings, it always felt like I had miles to go before I met my son.  But now that we're in the middle of March, spring is starting to reveal itself and I know he's coming sooner than I've allowed myself to believe.  As I type this, birds are chirping outside of my window as if to say, "He's coming!"

There are so many thoughts swirling around inside of my head during this new season.  In the last few weeks leading up to Jack's birth I remember feeling a similar sense of anxiety wondering how things in our little family would change.  It's a much different feeling going from 2 to 3 than from 3 to 4.  Of course, there is a great deal more fanfare for your first child than for your second: showers, baby books, fears about labor, anxiety over breastfeeding, fears of all of the unknowns.  My unknowns now revolve around helping Jack with the transition while Trevor and I go through the transition ourselves.

A season is coming to an end and not just the one that melts the snow and causes buds to grow on branches and in soil.  A season for our little family is coming to an end.  Jon Acuff is a smart and polished author who wrote the book "Quitter".  I was able to see him speak at a leadership conference earlier this year and he spoke about life's seasons.  Your 20s-60s can be represented in the following ways:

20s: learning & experimenting
30s: editing
40s: mastering
50s: harvesting
60s: guiding

I see parenting in much the same way, although the cycles will repeat at various stages in life.  When Jack turns 13, I see us sliding all the way back down to learning & experimenting again just when we thought we had it all figured out!  But for now, we are moving from a place of learning & experimenting to a place of editing with Jack.  We are learning more about him and refining our approach to strategies that seem to suit him.  

There is a notion that 2nd children tend to be a bit crazier than their older siblings and I have seen that play out in many families, my own included (sorry Rosie, but you were nuts).  It makes sense though, doesn't it?  Parents are now caught up in 2 cycles- learning and experimenting with their second child and editing with their first.  I can see how easy it would be to jump to editing with a second child, just hoping that the same strategies will work, the same toys will be enjoyable and the same foods delicious.  Unfortunately, it just doesn't always work out that way and it would stand to reason that any kid who was being forced into a mold of their older sibling would fight against that.  If you were my sister Rosie you'd fight against that by insisting on wearing scuffed up white patent leather shoes with every outfit you owned, dressy or not.  Dammit, I love my sister so much!

My mom says that when my sister was born (she came 3 years after me), she did everything in her power to be her own person.  If I went left, she'd go right.  She is blonde, I am brunette.  She was the opposite of me in so many ways.  She wouldn't allow our parents to edit her in the same way they were editing their style with me.  So they had to learn and experiment all over again.  

I don't know who this little guy is growing inside of me, twisting and squirming constantly.  I hope that I can resist the urge to make him a Jack 2.0.  I hope that we can move through one season with Jack while starting a new season with his brother.  It all sounds so complicated and I understand now why 2nd children may be a little louder as they fight for their own unique place in the family.

And then there's Jack who has enjoyed 2 years of undivided attention from both of his parents.  Love multiplies, but attention is divided as a family expands. Trevor and I are both oldest children and we empathize with where Jack will be in a couple of months.  I famously refused to look at or speak to my mom when my dad brought me to visit her in the hospital upon the birth of my sister.  And yet, as much as we treasure the 2 years we learned how to be parents from Jack and he learned how to be a kid from Trevor and me, I know that he will have no recollection or memory of this time.  His entire existence as he knows it will include his brother just as my entire existence as I know it includes my sister.

People tell me that, like Jack, I won't remember much from this season either which is why I'm so grateful for this blog.  Jack taught me what it means to be a mom.  Such a huge responsibility for such a little guy.  In a few weeks, he will have someone to help him.  Jack was my 101 instructor.  He taught me the basic language of motherhood.  His brother will be my Masters level professor helping me edit and refine those rudimentary skills.  He will add to the complexity and chaos.  He will add to the love.

The wistfulness that accompanies the ending of one season washes over me now as I think of moving from a family of 3 to 4.  This is a period of so much reflection on where I was and who I was during this season of motherhood accompanied by excitement about what lies ahead.  In this new season, we get to teach Jack how to be an older sibling, something both Trevor and I have been nearly all of our lives.  We will teach him that no matter how old they get, his brother will turn to him for advice and there will even come a day when he can look to his kid brother for advice too.  Jack will see pictures of himself alone with his parents and think "wow, those were the good old days", but secretly he will be grateful for the gift of his brother even when he doesn't want to admit it.

And to my little spring chicken who is getting ready to hatch~

Be patient with us as we grow this little family.  You are wanted and special and so loved.  Your dad and I don't have older siblings, but you know who does?  Aunt Rosie, Uncle Tom, Uncle John, Uncle Frank, Aunt Mary and Uncle Cris.  And believe us, they will have no problem or hesitation listening to you and understanding  your unique place in our family.  But there is something you need to know and someday if you stumble across this, you will know that we only had one expectation for you, even before you were born:

You will always be expected to be only one thing in this life- yourself.  

Also, don't tell anyone, but we don't have all the answers.  Not yet at least.  By the time you're 15 we will know everything though.

Alpha, Beta & Gamma.  This photo is a 100% accurate reflection of our personalities.
(and if you think the 2nd kid has it rough, check out the shiner on #3!)

So Small You Just Might Miss It

There are moments in life that are so incredible, so special, and so momentous that you just might miss them.  Not all of life's greatest moments come with fireworks; sometimes they come with a whisper and if you're not paying attention you just might miss them.

Two of our very best friends welcomed their first child into the world on Monday.  Little Charlie has joined a large extended family of "aunts" and "uncles" who will adore him and teach him how to be a first class geek, artist, and friend.  We went to visit the new little family late in the afternoon on Tuesday.  It was a blustery day, wind and snow whipping all around, but in the glow of that little hospital room all I felt was warm.  The room was only a couple of doors down from where I spent my first couple of nights with Jack and Trevor.  The view of the snowy parking ramp outside brought back memories of a snowy, blustery day two years ago.

"Go see Aunt Nancy", my amazing friend, the new mama, said as she handed over a little bundle of strawberry blonde hair and deep blue eyes to me.  My heart burst into a thousand happy pieces at this first introduction to my new nephew.  Holding a newborn baby is quite possibly one of the greatest joys any of us can experience.   Any problem you faced that day, any obstacle or hurdle instantly vanishes when you touch that brand new skin.  Somehow all of that hope and promise that a new baby brings is transferred to you and for a few brief moments you feel like anything is possible.

Trevor took his turn with Charlie and remarked to me today how he noticed that he automatically fell into the baby sway with him, gently rocking him to and fro setting into a pose long abandoned in favor of lugging a toddler around on his hip.  It's been a long time since I saw Trevor sway with a baby and once again I was taken back to our own room, two years ago and seeing the guy who was once merely my crush cradle our child for the first time.  

On the way home we talked about our own baby who continues to grow inside of me.  How easy it is to forget that babies start out so small when your world becomes occupied by a 33 lb. ball of energy and noise.  That ball of crazy-happy-fun-times started out as a 5 lb 14 oz peanut (a nickname he retains to this day).  I wonder now as I type this if I allowed myself to enjoy those fleeting weeks of his babyhood to their fullest extent.  I like to think I did and although I have a thousand pictures of those days, it's just so easy to forget new baby smell and silky skin until you're pleasantly reminded of it when holding a newborn again.  

After the hospital, we picked up Jack from daycare.  I rang the doorbell and when he saw me through the glass door his face burst into a Cheshire Cat grin and he took off in a full sprint toward me.  By the time I got in he had jumped up into my arms, his arms and legs wrapped around me like a Velcro monkey.  We kissed and hugged and my heart burst all over again.  Picking up Jack and having our little family reunited again each night is the best part of every day.

Later that night, the 3 of us climbed up the stairs for Jack's bedtime ritual.  Trevor laid on the futon buried in books, I awkwardly laid down next to him, my growing belly making it awkward to do most things these days.  Instead of laying down next to us, Jack climbed up on me and as I propped myself up with throw pillows, Jack lied down across my belly.  I held him there twisting his damp post-bath hair in my fingers while Trevor read us stories.  His head rested on my chest so I know he could hear the thumping of my heart.  All of a sudden, Jack's brother starting squirming and kicking.  Unbeknownst to Jack his brother was kicking right there underneath him, both of them listening to my heart, both of them occupying a very large portion of it.  A year from now they'll both be listening to their dad's bedtime stories laying side by side, which is exactly what they did last night for the very first time.

The world is filled with so many tiny moments of pure joy that I fear sometimes I'm missing them.  Brand new strawberry blonde hair, the sight of your husband holding the beloved firstborn son of his best friend, the look of a new dad- exhausted but overcome with admiration and love for his wife and their new baby, the sound of Spider-Man sneakers running across a hardwood floor toward your waiting arms, and the feel of your two children holding space together even when neither is aware of the other's presence.  

So many small and sacred moments can make up a day.  I am so grateful that on February 19, 2013, I was able to hold them all and be present for them.  Somehow all of these whispers exploded like fireworks on my heart.