Breathe

Did I say that I need you?

Did I say that I want you?

Oh, if I didn't I'm a fool you see,..

No one knows this more than me.

As I come clean.

I wonder everyday

as I look upon your face, aw-huh,..

Everything you gave

And nothing you would take, aw huh,..

Nothing you would take

Everything you gave...

Pearl Jam, Just Breathe

       
One of the phrases that I hear people say during a person's hard time is: God doesn't give you more than you can handle.  It's always been something that has made me inwardly cringe. Not because I think  people are saying it to be insensitive, but because I think people who have said it may not have experienced the times when a person has been given too much.  Way too much.

I'm not talking about things like my baby being born with reflux or being an exhausted mother or even my husband losing his job.  No, I'm talking about the moments in one's life that have that have brought you to your knees, stolen your breath so it feels as if you are drowning while everyone else is breathing:  losing a child, a spouse, a loved one.  

I had my first miscarriage a few years after having my first daughter.  It completely turned my world upside down and at that time, I felt the first splintering of my heart.  When I lost my second baby, I lost a little of me. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to love.  It hurt to live.  Hearing that God wouldn't give me more than I could handle made me want to show people my heart--shattered to the point I thought I would never be me again.   I know Chris would come home from work, hoping to see me and instead he would find the shell of me--going through the motions of life; taking care of my daughter but without light and joy.  And as time went by there were some days I would find myself smiling at something silly she did and I know he thought Thank God, she's back.  But my smile would soon turn to silent tears--feeling guilty because I was enjoying life when my two babies weren't with me.  Yes, in those days, I was given more than I could handle. 

It made me bitter, angry, and sad.  And yet sad isn't the right word.  I don't think there is a word for someone who loses a baby.  If I could describe sad it would be more like:

raw.
broken.
shattered.  

Because of that, I chose to walk away from the one who I needed to lean on the most.   I now realize He didn't cause those things to happen to me, but I needed Him to help heal me.

Nothing You would take

Everything You gave...

He gave me so much.  My daughter, my twins, and finally my baby.  The ache of losing my two babies is still there but I'm breathing, loving and living again.  

Because of Him.

Our Lady

Hey! Hey! Hey!

I don't like walking around this old and empty house

So hold my hand, I'll walk with you, my dear

The stairs creak as you sleep, it's keeping me awake

It's the house telling you to close your eyes

And some days I can't even trust myself

It's killing me to see you this way

'Cause though the truth may vary

This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore

Hey! Hey! Hey!

There's an old voice in my head that's holding me back

Well tell her that I miss our little talks

Soon it will be over and buried with our past

We used to play outside when we were young

And full of life and full of love.

Some days I don't know if I am wrong or right

Your mind is playing tricks on you, my dear

'Cause though the truth may vary

This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore

You're gone, gone, gone away

I watched you disappear

All that's left is the ghost of you.

Now we're torn, torn, torn apart,

There's nothing we can do

Just let me go we'll meet again soon

Now wait, wait, wait for me

Please hang around

I'll see you when I fall asleep

Though the truth may vary

This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore

~Little Talks, Of Monsters and Men

I've started and stopped this blog post a million times.  I am struggling to find the right words.  The words that will honor the woman I was blessed to call Grandma.  I don't want to talk about the disease that took her, because it was a vicious one, one that changed her mind.  I want to honor the woman I grew up loving, knowing and am now missing.  But that song reminds me so much of her in the later years.  And though I have no idea how or what Alzheimer's did in her mind, my hope is that she when she seemed to have forgotten us all, in her mind, we, and especially my Grandpa Vincent, were with her.  

When I close my eyes, I see her.  The way she used to be.  The warmest smile.  The brightest eyes.  Beautiful Grandma Bernie. I've missed her for the longest time.  

When I think of my Grandma and who she was, the word Lady comes to mind.  She carried herself like a queen, full of dignity, kindness, strength, patience and love.  Gentle and confident. Truly a Lady.  Oh, how I miss her.

I can still hear her laugh.  The squeak of her screen door.  Her voice calling out, Hi, mija!.  Her house was like a second home to me growing up.  My fondest memories are of moments at Grandma's house.  Because she made me feel so welcome.  My Grandma was full of warmth, love and a sweetness that was genuine.  I miss her.

My heart is so proud of my uncles who treated her with the love and respect she deserved.  She lived in her beautiful home for over 60 years and they cared for until her last breath. It's the way my Grandpa would have wanted his bride to be treated. I'm blessed to call them my family, knowing they honored her with the dignity and respect worthy of a Queen.  I'll forever be heartbroken that I couldn't be there to say goodbye, so I cling to the memories I have of the most beautiful woman I have ever known.  I pray my daughters will grow up to be the kind of woman she was: a Lady with a beautiful heart.

Grandma, I miss you so.

         My cousin Jennifer said it perfectly, there is peace in knowing, now, she will remember how much we love her.  

For You

Like a drum baby don't stop beatingLike a drum baby don't stop beatingLike a drum baby don't stop beatingLike a drum my heart never stops beating for youAnd long after you're gone gone goneI love you after you're gone gone gone~Philllip Phillips Gone, Gone, Gone

I'm convinced my children will teach me more then I will ever be able to teach them.  I was confident I had this newborn thing down, after all, I had a firecracker for a first born and almost 3 years later, twins who helped me build my Mommy resume.  And then came Vincent.  Sweet as pie. Calm. A mellow baby.  A mother's dream.

And yet, something wasn't quite right.

The second day of his little life I started struggling with nursing him.  Confused, I asked for help from the nurses, the doctors, the lactation consultant.  Anyone who walked in the hospital room, I calmly explained Vincent's trouble with latching and how when he finally did, it was so painful for me.  Nobody seemed overly concerned.  So I ignored things, struggled with getting him to eat and would grit my teeth through the pain.

Vincent, just like his Great-Grandpa he was named after, is a strong and determined little one.  Despite all the trouble with nursing, he continued to gain weight.  He spent most of his first weeks of life in someones arms.  My mom was visiting so we spent our days snuggling and holding him.  So loved, so wanted, neither of us wanted to put him down.

And yet, something wasn't quite right.

My mom left and eventually Vincent had to be put down.  It was around then I noticed he not only had trouble latching, he seemed to be in pain after eating and when I would put him down.  He went from sleeping wonderfully at night to being restless, unsettled and it was then, around 4 weeks old, I started holding him upright so he could sleep.  All night long.  I figured it was the trade off for him being such a sweet baby.  So I found a comfortable chair and I'd hold him upright because whenever I dared to put him down within an hour he was up.

My intuition told me something wasn't right.  And so did google.  And my mama friends.

I'll be at your door tonight if you need help, if you need help

After a rough weekend and days of no sleep and having to hold him upright while walking the house, I called his pediatrician early one Wednesday morning.  She patiently listened as I explained how sweet Vincent never cried unless he was eating.  How he would get so frustrated, unable to latch on and how when he finally did, I was in pain.  "Maybe he's tongue tied? Maybe it's silent reflux?  I don't know, something just isn't right and I need help figuring things out.  I was hoping by 4.5 weeks we wouldn't still be struggling.  But we are.  I need help". 

I was so thankful she didn't dismiss me with 'he's just acting like a newborn'. She examined him and discovered he is indeed tongue tied.  After a visit to an ENT, and lots of tears from me, Vincent was no longer tongue tied.  He was nursing better, without trouble latching and without pain for me.  I was so thankful. Relieved.

And yet, something still wasn't quite right.

I told Chris we might have to try medicine to help Vincent.  But I had my reservations.  Medicating my newborn just didn't feel natural.  One weekend Chris got to see Vincent writhing and screaming in pain first hand.  He had four  words for me which felt like the permission I needed to hear from someone, anyone:  Get him on medicine.

I'll shut down the city lights,I'll lie, cheat, I'll beg and bribe to make you well, to make you well

A few days later I was back at the pediatrician's office.  This time explaining how nursing was better except he was still screaming in pain during and after eating and still needed to be held upright all night long.  Again, she listened quietly and nodded in agreement as I quietly asked, Do you think we should try medicine to help?

I'll share in your suffering to make you well, to make you well.

Vincent was diagnosed with silent reflux.  He also has lots of food sensitivities.  I've cut out all my favorite foods to help his delicate tummy.   I've learned that a mother will do anything for her child.  We have good days and bad days.  We are figuring all this out together.  And though I would give anything to take away any sort of pain he has, I can only do my best by giving him his medicine, holding him for long hours and having patience. 

When you fall like a statueI'm gon' be there to catch you

Put you on your feet, you on your feet 


My confession is having a baby with reflux is hard.  Harder than newborn twins.  Harder than my colicky firstborn.  But I have such a supportive team: Claire, Madeline and Max have been so patient, with me.  More than I deserve.  I am humbled by the patience they give me during this time when I haven't always been patient with them.  And I have no doubt that I would not be surviving without my Chris.  He's take on so much at home, without thinking twice and without complaint.  They say it takes a village and it is certainly taking my sweet village to help raise Vincent.  And Vincent.  Despite all the troubles we've had with reflux, you are perfectly perfect.  A mama's dream: my snuggly, sweet, Mama's-boy.  

And if your well is emptyNot a thing will prevent meTell me what you need, what do you need

For you, for youYou would never sleep aloneI love you long after you're goneAnd long after you're gone gone gone

Vincent's favorite place to be.

Waiting for Vincent

For you, Vincent.  Your birth story.

It started with a longing.  A wish.  A hope.  I didn't know it at the time, but all along, it was you I was waiting for.  It was you who would complete our family.  I just didn't know when that would be. 

And I will wait, I will wait for you.

Your Mommy has many faults.  One of them is worrying about what other people think.  So when I wondered aloud to your Daddy: what will people think if we have a 4th child? We already get so many negative comments for having 3?  What I was really wondering is if my fragile ego could handle people's judgement.  This ugly flaw in me is something I hope I don't pass on to any of my beautiful children.  Stand tall. Stand proud.  You are wanted and so very loved.  Your Daddy has a strength that I admire.  His response to my wondering: Who cares what people think?!  This is our life.  And with that, I knew, just knew, we'd have just one more Baby: you.  And life continued to happen and we still just weren't quite sure when you would come to be.

And I will wait, I will wait for you.

I cried when I found out I was pregnant.  I never for one second took you for granted, having lost two angel babies, I knew you were a true Gift.  One I would cherish and lovingly nurture and grow inside of me.  Even when my pregnancy got difficult, I knew I'd do anything, anything, for you.

And I will wait, I will wait for you.

And I did wait.  My doctor wanted to schedule your arrival for a Tuesday, four days before your due date.  I found my voice, the one that usually stays quiet around people who are more assertive and outspoken, and I spoke up, for you.  Can I wait?  So she suggested Wednesday.  No, longer.  Can I wait until the Baby's due date?  She reluctantly agreed to schedule the induction for the following Monday, February 25th at 7am.  2 days past your due date.  I questioned my decision but my heart and God told me: patience.  Let the Baby grow.  Wait.

And I will wait, I will wait for you.

Oh, Vincent, you, the Baby I waited to find out whether you were a boy or girl, the Baby I decided to let grow as long as my doctor would allow, the Baby that I held during my most difficult pregnancy:  you were the one to prove to me that having Faith is the greatest gift a person can have.  Because I waited you were born perfectly healthy and in a way that I could have only dreamed of...because I waited.  For you.

And I will wait, I will wait for you.

On February 25th at 12:30 am, I felt the first twinges of labor pains.  They woke me up from a deep sleep and yet in denial, I didn't think it was labor.  I had waited so very long for you to come on your own time, I didn't think it was possible you would actually come on your own, on the induction day.  So I breathed through what I thought was just back pain, showered, bounced on the exercise ball and eventually went back to bed.  At 4:30 I woke up again, this time I knew the contractions were real.  I thanked God for this unexpected gift.  I knew today was the day I had waited for, the day I would get to meet you.

And I will wait, I will wait for you.

At 4:05 pm on February 25th, Daddy and I got to meet you.  Our Son.  I only wanted a healthy baby, and healthy you were: 9 lbs 3 oz, 21 inches long and stunningly beautiful.  Our son.  And once we met you we just knew Vincent Alexander was the name you were meant to have and you were the Baby who was meant to be to complete our family.  We waited a long time.  For you.  Happy birthday to you, Beautiful Boy.                        

                                    

                                                              Raise my hands
                                                            Paint my spirit gold
                                                              And bow my head
                                                            Keep my heart slow                                                                      

                                                                ~Mumford and Sons, I Will Wait   

Goodbye, Fear

And I'll kneel down
Wait for now
And I'll kneel down
Wait for now

And I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you

Now I'll be bold
As well as strong
Use my head alongside my heart

Decisions driven by fear.  Worrying about the future, the what-ifs.  I thought I had gotten that all under control.  It's a lesson God has been patiently trying to teach me for many years.  But these last few weeks of pregnancy have told me I'm not a very good student. 

My hope was to have a VBAC (vaginal birth after c-section).  My OB agreed to it but under many conditions: no induction, no big baby, no pitocin, no going over due date...and on and on.  So once I found out at 36 weeks Baby 4.0 was measuring a pretty big: 7 lbs 8 oz., I started panicking and hoped Baby would come, soon.  Because my OB started throwing out the c-section word.  Now, I don't think having a vaginal delivery will make me more of a mom, a better mom, a warrior mom...no, in fact it's not a mama-war I even care to discuss.  My reasons for wanting a VBAC are entirely selfish---I'm a wimp! Comparing Claire's delivery to the twins' c-section is night and day for me!  I was up and walking easily within an hour of delivering Claire and with Madeline & Max I was still hobbling around, doubled over in pain for a good 10 days after.  Months after I would still feel pain and just 'not right'.  I want to avoid that.  Especially since I'll be taking care of 4 children.  So I agonized.  Worried.  Prayed:  Come on out soon, Baby!

Then at 37 weeks I developed a condition I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy: PUPPS.   My stomach looked like it had been scalded by hot water, every inch of it.  The itchiness was so consuming, it's all I could think about.  I called my mom in tears every single day, asking her to pray to help me to get through the day, even if just one minute at a time.  Because when I saw the on-call OB, she gently suggested: c-section.  You know, most women at this point would just go ahead and opt for the c-section as that is really the only 'cure'.  I'll wait, I said.  Really? You want to put yourself through another day? Another week? Another 3 weeks of this?  You don't have to! I broke down and cried right there in the exam room.  She ordered lab work to check my liver.  I broke down again.  Knowing relief was just a c-section away was so tempting.  The nights were the worst: I ccouldn't sleep.  Not a minute. Tossing and turning, placing cool rags and ice packs on my stomach all night.  If my OB had been in my room during the middle of the night, I would have agreed to the c-section then and there. I worried, I prayed, I begged: please, come out, Baby!

But I'd get up in the morning and it would be a little, just the smallest bit better.  And I would again, focus on one minute at a time.  One day, I dropped the twins off at preschool and I had the urge to go to a Catholic church and pray. The desire was so strong, it was all I could think about.  I wanted to pray. In peace.  Without distraction from kids.  I wanted to get on my knees and be surrounded by a church that reminded me of my childhood and my Grandpa, who I felt was calling out to me.  So the next day, I found one. 

I prayed the prayers I learned as a child.  Over and over as I was on my knees, the tears just needed to be released as I begged God for peace and comfort. I wanted to talk to my Grandpa so I did. And I felt his presence.  On my knees, while I prayed, I knew he was with me.  And then the inexplicable: I felt cool hands covering my stomach.  And for a moment, I had complete relief from the condition that had been plaguing me for over a week.  A condition no cream, no medicine could touch.  I left the church that day knowing that whatever happened, I would have the strength to get through it. Miracles cannot be explained.  That is why we have Faith.  And the next day what happened was a true miracle. I woke up and I was no longer as itchy as I had been.  My stomach which had been a bright, blistering, angry red was faded to a pink, a mild looking sunburn.  And as the days went on, it has faded even more. And then one day: No more itchiness.

Then I had a great appointment with my OB who suddenly seemed to have a change of heart: she was willing to induce if I got close to my due date, no automatic c-section! Hooray!  I felt like I could get through these last few weeks of my pregnancy worry-free.  Until she called the next day saying she wanted to induce me at my next appointment.  I panicked: what if the baby just needs more time? What if she induces me and my body isn't ready and I have to have a c-section?  What if, what if, what if?  So I asked for another week, to schedule the induction for when I'm full term.  And then the self-doubt and worry began:  but then we wouldn't have help from my parents because they would be leaving 2 days later, what if the extra week allows the baby to get too big and I end up with a c-section anyway?....but, but, but....worry, worry, worry.
I hate being in that dark place of fear, darkness, worry.  Things that I can't control.  Things that should be let go to prayer.  But sometimes the mind tries to overpower the heart.  Self-doubt was laying on me like a heavy blanket making it hard to breathe.  Did I make the right decision?

I went to the gym and the first song that came on was I Will Wait by Mumford and Sons.   Ahhhh, it sounded so right.  Wait is what my heart was whispering....wait for Baby to come.  But, But, But, my mind kept protesting....maybe...worry, worry, worry.  Maybe I should choose the earlier date.  I finished my workout and got into my car.  Turned it on only to hear on the radio the same song:

And I'll kneel down
Wait for now
And I'll kneel down
Know my ground

And I will wait, I will wait for you.

I laughed and cried at the same time.  OK, God. I hear you.  I'll wait.  Baby, I'll wait for you.  And I'll say goodbye to fear.

                                    

                            Mama, Sweet Claire and Baby at 39 weeks and a few days.  And waiting for Baby.

 

Once Upon A Time, A Mouse Made a Mommy Cry

Once upon a time there was a Mommy, a Daddy and three amazing Little Ones. The Mommy wished upon a star and her hope was to one day, take her Little Ones to Disneyworld.  But she knew it would take lots of magic to make it happen: with a Daddy who dislikes crowds and is lovingly known as Mr. Budget; Disneyworld seemed like a big dream not likely to happen.

But one day....things fell into place and the Daddy had a change of heart.  A trip was scheduled, tickets bought and those Little Ones and their parents were off on an adventure.  The Mommy and Daddy were a bit nervous.  They weren't quite sure how this adventure would turn out.  Would it have a happy ending?  The Little Ones had no idea what was coming...Disneyworld? What does that really mean?  They weren't quite sure, but they were excited to begin their journey.

                                 

And on the first day...something magical happened.   The three Little Ones were mesmerized:  by princesses, castles...was this a real life fairy-tale?
                            
                        
And the Daddy?  Well, I know for a fact his heart was transformed as he saw his princess-loving Little One, light up with joy when she got to hold the hand of a real-life princess.   There was no hope for the Daddy after he saw this:
                                  
 

The Mommy was already in a bit of a daze.  Was this really happening?  She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.  Especially when she saw the sheer delight on the Little Ones' faces:
                                       
                                     
             

 
 

 

                  

When Mickey, Pooh, Donald or a Princess hugs your Little One, it truly is a magical moment. The Mommy tucked away these images into her heart forever.

                           

Suddenly, it all became too much for the Mommy.  She was overwhelmed with happiness.  And when Mickey kissed her Baby Belly, the Mommy couldn't help but cry.  She cried tears of joy, gratitude and the magic of it all:

And of course the story has a happy ending.  Three Little Ones, a Mommy and a Daddy had a wonderful time.  Memories were made in a magical place.  The Mommy and the Daddy will forever hold on to what they saw:  The innocence of Magic and Wonder in the eyes of their Little ones.  Do you see it too?:

You, you may say

I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one

I hope some day you'll join us

And the world will be as one
~John Lennon

                                 

 The Mommy is forever thankful for a wonderful support team of Grandparents and a Husband who did all the muscle work behind the strollers. She couldn't have done it without you all.

 

                                      
                                                                     The End.

It's Never Just Any Old Day

When the rain is blowin' in your face
And the whole world is on your case
I could offer you a warm embrace
To make you feel my love.

When the evening shadows and the stars appear
And there is no one there to dry your tears
I could hold you for a million years
To make you feel my love.

I know you haven't made your mind up yet
But I would never do you wrong
I've known it from the moment that we met
No doubt in my mind where you belong.

I'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue
I'd go crawlin' down the avenue
No, there's nothin' that I wouldn't do
To make you feel my love.

Though storms are raging on the rollin' sea
And on the highway of regrets
Though winds of change are throwing wild and free
You ain't seen nothin' like me yet.

I could make you happy, make your dreams come true
Nothing that I wouldn't do
Go to the ends of the Earth for you
To make you feel my love.

(To Make you Feel My Love, Bob Dylan)

The other day I listened to Mick McAuley's version of Make you Feel My Love.  Music does wonders for my soul.  It picked me up out of some sorrow I had been feeling and reminded me to be thankful: for all the wonderful, beautiful, amazing things that happen on a seemingly normal day.  Here are some of those moments captured:

 We cuddle every, single, day.  Thinking of the day this will stop, makes my heart ache a bit.

   Being silly with Baby.  The human body amazes me.

                       A Father who takes his daughter to school every day.  She'll have this memory and know she's always been cherished by him.

        My sweet Madeline who sometimes gets 'lost' in the middle and reminds me: I'm here, be with me.

 A Boy-Child who notices pretty girls.

                   Over 7 years of marriage and I still try to look pretty for my man.  I hope that's the case 20 years from now.

A princess who turns heads.

When you realize taking a moment to stop for snow cones makes someone's day, you want do do it more often.

A morning at the zoo.  My heart broke a little this day.  "I want to sit by myself on the train."

Dancing days.

My Costco lunch date.  That face.  I couldn't have designed it better than He did.

First day of preschool at 3 years old and as I drove away that day I knew they would be ok. Because they have each other.

Playing dressup:  I love her confident, sassy attitude.

I came home from a run and asked for a kiss, she plugged her little button nose.  I love showing my children that mommy enjoys running.  They know mama is a runner.

Best Friends.

I cried.  I laughed. My 'baby' is so big and bright.

The Boy I never knew I needed.  So proud of his muscles.

Grateful for a wonderful teacher.

Three.  My  hands are not full, but my heart is.

Seeing Baby never, ever gets old.  One of my favorite things in life is feeling Life within me.

Sometimes I see myself in Claire.  The little Teacher.

Oh, my unique Claire. Don't ever change.

Kissy time with my Mads-Mama.  She is going to be an amazing woman.

On my birthday:  he gets me. Just so.

"Baby in MY tummy."  Oh Max, I will hold this image in my heart forever.

 So thankful I was gifted with twins.

Back to School Night and I opened her journal to find this gem.  My heart couldn't have been more joyful.

They truly miss their hard-working Daddy.

      Daddy's birthday:  Silly Daddy. Silly Max.

Out for an evening run:  Beautiful views and a happy running mama.

And those who were seen dancing, were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music. ~Nietzsche