Love the Life you Live

Today I slowed down

2012-01-26T22:49:00.000-08:00

But, as I sit here reflecting on the day's highlights, I'm realizing it still wasn't enough.

The day started overcast and very dreary, as it has been for the last week. Time spent outside in this past week has been nearly non-existent, which for two active toddlers is its own form of torture, which also translates into its own form of torture for Mom. Am I right?

Fortune was on my side this afternoon, though, when the clouds cleared and sunlight streamed through our windows, begging us to come out and play. And, that we did as soon as the boys were up from their naps.

As I was getting the boys strapped into the stroller, I noticed a tiny, red ladybug on the siding of our house. I think it was the boys' first time with a ladybug, so I carefully picked her up and let her crawl on my hand, letting the boys watch its delicate movements. Then as I reached toward Ben, he willingly held out his pointed finger to get to know the little ladybug himself. He was so careful and gentle, allowing the ladybug to explore both sides of his hand. Hugh was a little more hesitant, but still curious enough to hold out his hand and have a turn.

Before taking off to the playground, I carefully placed the ladybug on a little flower plant by our front gate and felt so grateful for such a small moment of discovery and wonder that I was able to have with my two boys. So, see, there's my proof I did slow down today.

It was after spending a good glorious hour at the park, sliding down slides and swinging on swings and climbing up slides, that we came home and I went into serious dinner-prep mode. I was so singly focused on that one task that the earnest pleadings from Ben to understand his needs and fulfill his wants went grossly unheard.

I paused a couple of times to peer down at him, hoping it would all of a sudden became very clear what it was that he wanted, but I know I gave up much too easily and was much too hurried in my own task to understand what he was trying to communicate. I offered all of what I thought were the obvious options - crackers, water, Fireman Sam, cottage cheese - but each offer was met with a sharp shake of the head and a clear "eh", which in Ben language means a very emphatic "no!"

I'm mostly ashamed to admit that at one point I briefly lost my patience and responded with "I don't know what you want" in an exasperated tone of voice that even at his young age he felt hurt by and tears immediately welled up in his eyes.

That was enough to snap me out of my robot-like, dinner-prep mode. I knelt down in front of my sweet and sensitive little boy and took his face in my hands and told him I was sorry. I still didn't know what it was that he wanted, but I knew a little lollipop we got from Aunt Caryn would heal his wounds. And, it pretty much did.

A little bit later I was at the kitchen sink, washing my hands and Ben came up to me, with his lollipop stick cleaned off in record time, softly patted my little baby bump with both hands and looked up at me with his big blue eyes and said, "Mama." Right away I asked if he wanted some water and when he smiles and does his sweet little giggle that means "yes!" So, I got him a cup of water and almost didn't pause long enough to recognize the beauty of that little moment. Six months ago I would have begged for him to even say "mama", let alone have him approach me and call me by name with "Mama".

Today was a good reminder for this Mama that many of life's most precious moments are so small and so simple that if I don't slow down to recognize and capture them, they'll pass me by without any idea of what I'm missing out on.

Quality vs. Quantity

2012-01-21T22:39:00.000-08:00

I remember back in high school having a conversation with a girl who was much more extroverted and outgoing than me. She would float around different groups, friendly spreading her social butterfly wings with an enviable ease. That felt much too daring for my comfort zone, which consisted of sitting quietly in my tight-knit little circle of friends. But, I was shocked one day to hear her express sadness at feeling like she didn't have any friends. From my perspective she had dozens (if not hundreds) more friends than me and I didn't understand how she could feel that way. That is, until I realized the difference between quantity and quality.

The conversation stuck with me as a constant reminder that the quality of my relationships was much more important than the number. And, really, I've been so blessed with some of the most priceless friendships a girl could ever hope for.

As I look back on my life, it's so easy to identify friendships that came naturally and easy, and amazing to recognize the tiny details that allowed our lives to connect. I've been seriously blessed with the companionship of some of the most amazing friends, and often during periods when I needed them the most. And, equally amazing is the connection that remains even with great distance and length of time that might separate us.

One of those friends happens to have her birthday today. You should check out her blog and let yourself laugh and be inspired. She is amazing! Happy Birthday, Jess!

As I get older, though, I've realized that those easy, natural friendships don't come along very often. You know the kind... where right off the bat conversations flow, the comfort level makes you feel like you can open up the most vulnerable part of your heart without any hesitation and without any fear of judgment. I should add here that having been blessed with sisters who have filled that role is a blessing I sincerely try not to take for granted. There is nothing better than having sisters who are also my best friends.

And, so when I have that, I find it even more incredible when my life is still blessed with others that bring with them such sweet friendship that makes my life feel richer than what I could ever merit. Just a few short months ago I met a young mother of two adorable boys, her youngest the same age as Benjamin, and right away I felt drawn to her. I could tell by my initial interactions with her that she and I would probably get along really well. Little did I know how much we'd have in common and how those commonalities would quickly forge one of those rare friendships that come easy and naturally.

On the first play date we had with our boys, Annie and I got to talking and before I knew it, she was opening up to me about her recent loss - a baby girl - that left her with wounds that were still raw and painful. It was the last thing I was expecting to hear from such a happy, seemingly carefree person. But, immediately I was taken back to my own reactions to our loss and the efforts I made to appear normal. And, remembering the physical ache that lingers in the heart in the months that follow and the tears that seemed to not ever dry up, I just wanted to wrap her up and take all of that away. And, right away I felt this huge relief with the realization that there would be feelings we'd share that wouldn't ever have to be expressed.

From that day (in October, I think) followed lots of days just like it where we'd meet up, let our boys play (and sometimes borderline fight... two-year olds!), and continue to build our friendship. Earlier this month I was super sad to find out that their brief stay here would be even more brief than originally planned. They moved this morning back to where they came from, which fortunately isn't too far away but still far enough away to create some distance and great difficulty in continuing our weekly play dates and late night talk-fests.

But, rather than feeling sad, I feel so incredibly blessed to have another friend who will no doubt be a friend for life, one of the best in quality.

Vacation and catching up

2012-01-14T22:31:00.000-08:00

Okay, I just had to peek in here really quick to show I'm still alive. I can't believe January is almost half over and I still feel like I'm recovering from the excitement of the holidays. So much fun and so much crazy all bundled up together! At some point I'll have to fill in some of the blank spaces with some stories and some photos, maybe even a few videos, but here's a tiny glimpse of what the last few weeks have been like.

Two days after Christmas we celebrated Benjamin's second birthday with a few fun presents and trip to Baskin Robbins, where he had his first ice cream cone and LOVED it! We're still planning to have a party with a few more presents and cake and a visit with his birth mother... hopefully sometime later this month.

Then, the very next day we hopped in the car at 4:27am and drove for nearly 13 hours (with a few stops for food and playtime and diaper changes), until we arrived at Marc's sister's house. We lounged, ate delicious food (all day long!), soaked up good conversation and enjoyed the musical talents of their whole family, complete with us all singing around the piano. The boys were in heaven with so many new rooms to explore, with ornaments and decorations at their fingertips, unfortunately resulting in some casualties. Otherwise the visit couldn't have been more perfect!

We continued further north for a few more days of vacation, spent with Nana and most of the rest of Marc's family. The boys had so much fun running around, becoming acquainted with everyone! Even though the boys get a little thrown off their sleep schedule and feel a little disoriented with new places, it's always so much fun to get away. We kicked our feet up and enjoyed every moment with family!

Of course, time always flies and before we knew it we were piling back into our car at 4:25am one dark cold morning, heading back home. It was another long day, nearly fourteen hours, with a few stops for food, playtime, and diaper changes. BUT, driving both ways, the boys did GREAT! We were amazed at how easily entertained they were, at how easily they slept when they were tired, at how little they fought getting back into their car seats after a quick stop, and how few their moments were of discontent. We did make sure to plan our stops so that they weren't more than four hours apart, as well as making the stops last at least 30-45 minutes long, which I think made all the difference. I think we stopped three times coming and going, which wasn't too bad at all.

Almost as soon as we got home, though, we all got sick. Ben got it the worst. Fever, cough, congestion, swollen lymph nodes... all making him completely listless for about three days. It's so unlike him to sit and want to be cuddled for hours and hours. I tried to forget about everything else screaming at me to get done, and just focus on spending that time with my sick little guy. Luckily he's doing a lot better this week and so far Hugh hasn't gotten whatever it was that Ben had (fingers crossed, still!).

And, that, more or less, brings us to today, which was the first day in a long time that I felt like I was finally starting to get a better handle on the other chaos of life - paying bills, doing laundry, cleaning the toilets (although that huge credit goes completely to Marc!), vacuuming, and general de-cluttering. I always sleep better with a clean house, so I'm really looking forward to my sleep tonight.

Oh, and I almost forgot... pregnancy-wise all is going well. That statement, actually, pretty well sums up this pregnancy. I keep forgetting that I'm even pregnant, despite all the time I've spent heaving into the toilet and the bump that seems to have doubled in size in the last week. A miracle of all miracles, for two weeks after Christmas I didn't throw up at all, meaning our entire vacation was joyfully vomit-free. Then, last Sunday, I threw up three times. Still not sure what that was all about. But, nothing since. So, maybe we're in the clear, but maybe not?? Fifteen weeks along and feeling like the next 25 are going to fly by just as fast, especially if I keep forgetting that I'm pregnant.

The Joy of Christmas

2011-12-26T22:36:00.000-08:00

Christmas was about a million times more exciting this year than it has been since maybe 1982 (for me, anyway). At first, Ben and Hugh seemed just as confused as they were excited, but once the reality of their new toys started to sink in it was just pure joy!

This was their first view upon coming out to the Christmas tree... the unwrapped fire trucks from Santa:

Look at that exchange of expressions... so magical!

Hugh figuring out how his truck works.

At about this point both boys were playing with their own trucks, but kept eying each other, almost as if they couldn't believe they each had their very own truck.

Ben opening another gift, but clinging tightly still to his truck!

That look says it all, doesn't it?!

It was a wonderful day! We enjoyed the company of my parents, who added their own surprises to this mix and making the day even more special. We enjoyed a delicious breakfast of bread pudding and my Mom's trademark tea ring. Opened lots of gifts and felt so full of gratitude. After the morning excitement, we headed to Church for a wonderful meeting. Just before rushing out the door, we got really lucky with snapping a quick photo with the help of the camera's timer. Not bad, right?!

I hope it was a very Merry Christmas for all of you!

Number Three

2011-12-12T20:35:00.000-08:00

For the last (roughly) six weeks, I've been trying to recover from shock that I'm pregnant. Not too long ago I was complaining to a friend about people who ask me what has become the most dreaded question: "are you going to have more kids?" There are a few reasons the question bothers me.

One, it's such a personal question that doesn't have a simple answer and in most cases I don't want to give anything but a simple answer, which usually means my answer of "I really don't know" is probably not a very satisfying answer to most people.

Two, even though I've managed to get pregnant three times in the past nine years, my stats clearly aren't anything to brag about. Getting that question reminds me of the painful reality that I have no idea where I stand in my battle with infertility.

And, three, honestly I feel so blessed with these two boys (and our two on the other side), that to be blessed with any more would just feel greedy. In fact, a few months ago when a friend offered to let me hold her newborn, not only did I not feel baby hungry for a new baby of my own, I also had zero desire to hold her baby. Is that weird?

To be honest, we really thought we might be done. At the very least, we decided we wouldn't even consider adding to our family until the boys were at least three years old.

As that pink little line immediately appeared, the very first emotion to stink deep in my heart was the most overwhelming exhaustion. Not that I was suddenly tired, but the exhaustion that is sure to come... being pregnant while running after two nearly-two-year olds and then the exhaustion of having three kids under three. Ben will have just barely turned two-and-a-half and Hugh just barely two, when this baby is due to arrive.

Not to mention the overwhelming worry about my parenting qualities drastically dropping with an addition so soon. While getting pregnant right now was not the plan, in the last six weeks, between episodes of throwing up and spending endless hours curled up on the couch all while yelling at the boys to stop hitting each other or to get off the kitchen table (clearly, the drastic drop has already begun), I have started to feel the overwhelming exhaustion turn into the most overwhelming love.

Love for this new little miracle. Love for my two boys who seem to know something is a little off and show their concern with extra love and kisses. Love for Marc who I interrupt in the middle of his work day to change nearly all of the poopy diapers, which he does without a single complaint. Love for my parents who have made sure the boys get some real play time and I get a little rest time every single afternoon, along with the meals they've brought over. And, finally, love for the Giver of life and that for some reason He has blessed us again with a new life, a new little miracle.

So, some of the nitty-gritty details: I'm ten weeks along and due sometime around July 8th. Morning sickness is just as awful as with the last pregnancies. Even with the miracle drug, Zofran, I'm still throwing up about once a day... at least it has eliminated those days a few weeks ago when I was getting up to three times in per day. Not fun. I've lost eight pounds in the last month. If things continue like they did, then I can expect to be throwing up for another ten weeks.

One upside to having such terrible morning sickness is that I keep thinking that adding a newborn to the mix can't be too much harder than what the last month has been like. Or maybe I'm just delusional. That could be.

Three kids suddenly feels like a million. Maybe it's just the fact that both boys will still be so young. If people at church are enjoying the little show we put on every week right now, it's about to get a whole lot more entertaining!

Hugh learned a new word!

2011-12-11T19:39:00.000-08:00

Hope

2011-12-05T21:44:00.001-08:00

Last Sunday I was sitting in a church meeting where the topic of "hope" was being discussed. Immediately I was taken back to October 2008. The very same teacher was teaching a similar lesson on the same topic, though from different lesson material. In fact, I just looked back in my archives and found that I shared some of my favorite parts of the particular talk that was used in that lesson. If you're interested, you can read it here.

I remember I was sitting on the front row that Sunday, all alone. It had been just a few months since we'd lost the twins and I was still really struggling. I remember feeling a little frustrated by the intangible, elusiveness of hope... wanting so much to understand what it meant to have hope and how to capture its light in a way to have my burden eased a bit.

It felt frustrating to hear examples of when hope for something consisted more of concentrated hard work than anything else. What about those more faith-trying examples when no amount of hard work will make your dreams come true? How do you have hope when the one thing you want more than anything, and you're willing to do anything to make it come true, still evades you?

Well, as you can probably imagine, sitting through the lesson on hope this last Sunday wasn't nearly as painful, but I could still remember the feelings from three years ago so poignantly. I was mostly amazed at how differently things have turned out than I ever would have imagined. Back then I was too afraid to hope for what I have now.

Instead I tried to focus my hope in having more trust in God, in his purposes for my life, and in the time and way those purposes would come about. But, more than that I just couldn't do. It was far too painful to hope for a family of my own, and somehow I think God understood and still blessed me with more than I was able to hope for.

There is still a lot about hope that I don't fully grasp. And yet, I cannot deny that I have experienced the feeling of hope, been blessed by the benefits of hope, and the healing that comes from hope. And, I just find myself hoping that those out there who are struggling with hope's elusiveness will somehow find the strength to continue to hang on until their hope sees them through to a brighter chapter of life.

Adoption: My Dream Come True

2011-11-30T21:45:00.000-08:00

November is National Adoption Month. I had plans of sharing more about my feelings about adoption throughout the month, but this particular November proved to make that much more difficult than I would have expected. I'll probably get around to explaining the reasons behind that in the coming days, but for now I can't let myself get distracted from sharing just a few thoughts about adoption (before the month is officially over).

I suppose the following story, though short and simple on the surface, was the very beginning of our adoption journey.

It was September 2005. Marc and I had been married just over three years. It had been two years since our miscarriage and two years of experiencing the painful ride of infertility. Then, one night I had a dream. I don't remember much about the dream, except the very specific image of a little boy. He had blond hair and blue eyes and a mouth full of teeth, which was what made me guess that he was about two years old. He was smiling at me and me at him. There were no words exchanged, but there was this overwhelming feeling of love and gratitude. As I watched him, there came two very clear thoughts. One, that he was my baby boy. And, two, that he did not come from my body.

I honestly didn't take the details of my dream too seriously (even though the image was so detailed and etched in my memory forever), but I did feel the power of its message. I just figured that the little boy in my dream was simply the face ofour adoption hope and the push behind us to find our baby. It wasn't until the following year that we finally jumped into adoption. And then it was another two years before our adoption dreams came true.

And come true they did. In every way I could have imagined. That boy from my dream six years ago is very real and brings us so much joy. To look into those blue eyes and to run my fingers through his soft, blond hair, to hear his giggle and watch him do all sorts of daring things, I feel so incredibly blessed that I am able to call him mine. And, that he came to us in such a special way, through an amazing woman that loved him first. Adoption is a gift and a blessing, on more levels and in more ways that I can count. I find it so fitting that the month set aside for honoring adoption is shared with our holiday of giving thanks.

Two Little Monkeys

2011-11-02T22:16:00.000-07:00

Correction: MY two little monkeys...

... feeling extra grateful tonight for the blessing these little boys are in my life.

In Knots

2011-10-27T22:18:00.000-07:00

A few days ago Marc and I decided we really wanted to take the boys to a pumpkin patch this year. After some searching online, I found what seemed like the perfect place. A pyramid of hay bales for climbing, a petting zoo, pony rides, and pumpkins, of course. We figured a Thursday afternoon would be the perfect day and time to avoid big crowds and so that was our big adventure for today.

We made a scenic 45-minute drive past beautiful autumn-colored grapevines and those lovely rolling golden hills, with Grandma and Grandpa in their car behind us and some other friends following behind them. It was the makings for a perfect day of fun!

We started off watching the chickens behind their cage. Ben got pecked on his curious little finger that got a little too close, but didn't seem to mind. He did learn his lesson, though, and would just lean his face in close to the cage instead, but clearly keeping a much safer distance. There were cows and at least five little piglets, two ponies, and lots and lots of flies. There was a large field of rows of pumpkins and old rusty tractors for playing on and taking fun photos.

Our two boys and our friends' two boys ran around from one fun corner of the patch to another, with smiles and laughter and that contagious joy you wish you could bottle up and keep forever.

Then, it happened.

Marc was holding Hugh, watching the ponies from behind some railing. Ben ran over to join them and I was standing just a few feet behind them, watching. Then, before I knew what was happening, Ben was on his hands and knees crawling under the railing into the ponies area. Marc tried to grab the back of his pants, but he wiggled free. I ran over as fast as I could, but it was too late. One of the ponies got scared and jumped out of the way, hitting Ben right on the side of the head with his hoof.

It's all such a blur. I grabbed him up as fast as I could. He was screaming and I was so scared of what I'd find when I turned his head over to survey the damage. There was some blood on the upper portion of his right ear and some mud (and/or poop) caked into his hair and head right behind his right ear. My Dad whipped out his trusty white handkerchief (so glad he still carries one around with him) and I used that to put pressure on the part that was bleeding and then we took him to a far corner to try to clean him up and look at everything a little closer.

Luckily, our friend is an RN in the ER and was able to take a look and reassure us that Ben was going to be okay and that his cuts wouldn't need stitches. The upper part of Ben's ear has some cuts and was pretty badly swollen by the time we laid him down for bed tonight, but that seems to be the extent of his injuries.

Oh, and that my stomach is still in knots from replaying the scene in my head all night. But, really, the main reason for the knots is knowing how much worse it could have been. I'm just feeling so relieved and grateful that Ben was spared more serious injuries from what could have been a much more serious situation. With this being the third blood-involved injury in a week, I have two main thoughts: I'm really grateful we were required to take a First Aid class for the adoption process and I'm wondering how I'm going to survive life with such fearless boys.

"More, more, more!"

2011-10-20T22:19:00.000-07:00

Ben and Hugh both LOVE trucks. They have books of trucks that they fight over. They have hot wheel trucks that they hide from each other. They like to watch youtube videos of trucks. Whenever a truck passes by they pause in complete adoration. Hugh will pull out his higher pitched voice and say, "aaahhh, truck!" while pointing in its direction and leaning forward with excitement.

Ben isn't saying truck consistently yet, but the other day he did something even cuter. We were out on our afternoon walk and approaching an intersection with an ambulance coming toward the same intersection. So, I stopped about fifty feet from the corner to let the boys watch it pass by. (I didn't want to be too close, in case the loud siren would scare them.) The noise and excitement were too much for Hugh and he just sat there, stunned. Ben, though, leaned as far forward as he could, with the stroller straps stretching to their limits, and then as quickly and emphatically as he could do it, he signed "more, more, more!"

It was so awesome! I wished I could have gotten it on video. We've been concerned a little about Ben and what seem to be a language delay and I've been trying sign language and other one-on-one activities with him to help him learn more words. His receptive language skills are improving by leaps and bounds lately, but we're still struggling a little with his expressive language.

But, there was something about that moment... it was so sweet and rewarding to watch him get so excited about that ambulance that he expressed it with a sign he's familiar with (though we mostly use it for wanting more food), and that he also expressed it without any prompting from anyone. It was a pure moment of the most honest expression of a true desire. And, it was beautiful!

These simple moments of motherhood are so joyful. I love watching my boys as they experience the world and feeling their excitement about things like trucks driving by and airplanes flying up above. When their eyes light up, it's just contagious. So, if you see me stopped at a street corner watching trucks passing by and pointing at the airplanes in the sky, come on over and enjoy the view with us! I'm not sure it gets any better than this.

Slowing Down

2011-10-18T22:32:00.000-07:00

After dinner tonight I was in the kitchen doing the dishes, when Hugh came up behind me and grabbed onto my legs from behind, clearly trying to get my attention. So, I dried my hands and bent down to his level and we looked in each others' eyes. Pretty soon I was tickling him in his most ticklish spots (his neck and under his arms) and he was giggling away with his head thrown back. That was about when Marc announced from the living room that Ben was coming to join in the kitchen fun. I was laying down flat on my back on the kitchen floor with Hugh trying to tickle my tummy and Ben trying to squirm away from me tickling him in his most ticklish spots (just under his chin and his belly).

It was one of those moments of pure joy, when time seems to pause for just a moment and I was lucky enough to have the right frame of mind to pause long enough to capture it. Unfortunately I know I don't always do that, but I've decided to change that.

I'm guilty of getting distracted with other things. There are times when I look at the luxuries and technological advances we have at our fingertips, and I just wonder whether or not we're really better off. There are advantages, sure. But, I can't help but wonder what kind of damage the disadvantages could potentially cause us, as individuals, as families, and as a world-wide community.

A couple of weeks ago I read an article in USA Today about The Slow-Family Movement. It was my kind of article. My whole soul totally resonated with the ideas, the arguments, the whole philosophy of slowing down, spending time together as a family, simplifying schedules and eliminating extra distractions that come in all different forms.

Of course, if I'm being completely honest, if given the chance I would jump at the opportunity to live in the woods with the likes of Thoreau, just to experience life stripped down to it's barest essentials.

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion." - Henry David Thoreau

I know that kind of experience might not appeal to everyone, but reading that makes me itch with the desire to detach from modernity, only to then be able to better attach myself to what's really important in life.

It seems like there's a trend that has snow-balled through the last couple of decades of parents signing their child(ren) up for every possible activity - soccer, ballet, football, painting, piano, hip hop, violin, baseball, yada, yada, yada. Don't get me wrong, I'm a huge fan of being active and having an active lifestyle, as well as exploring new interests and developing talents. But, I cringe at the thought of my life, and especially the life of my child(ren), revolving around activities that take up every spare moment of the day.

I'm already taking mental notes of the personalities of my boys and trying to be aware of where they have natural strengths and interests. It's important to me to provide opportunities for them to develop and explore and dive into whatever activities that mean the most to them. It's avoiding the trap of getting them overly involved in more than is necessary. The unnecessary is what will replace what could and should be reserved for time spent as a family.

I suppose it might be as simple as making a conscious effort to have a well-balanced schedule that includes quality family time and quality personal time spent exploring and developing talents and interests. I think the key is being aware of what is most important for our family and making sure we work hard to keep those important things as the top priorities.

I think there's something to this message from Simon & Garfunkel: "Slow down, you move too fast. You've got to make the moment last."

I'm hoping so much to do just that. Slow down, enjoy every stage of my little family, and really make these moments last.

A not-so-ordinary day... Continued

2011-10-06T22:22:00.000-07:00

... I'm really sorry about keeping anyone in suspense. It honestly wasn't my intention. It just got late and I was too tired to finish and that seemed like a good place to stop. And, even though I know how the story ends, all day today I found myself wondering where some of you might have guessed where the story was going to go. You might have thought it had something to do with the little old lady... well, that is a really good guess... but not even close.

When we were about half a block away from her house, we crossed an intersecting street where I noticed a strong smell of burnt rubber or something, but didn't think much of it and kept on going. We arrived at the lady's house and I rang her doorbell once, but when no one came and I was a little worried that she might have been resting, so we turned and went back in the direction we'd come.

As we approached that intersection we'd come from, I noticed some thick smoke and that burnt smell was much stronger. There were a few people rushing around and that was when I saw that a car parked in front of the house on the corner was on fire. I grabbed my cell phone and dialed 9-1-1, but right away a man called out, "they're already on their way." So, I just stood there, stunned. I was pretty sure I was far enough away to not be in any danger, but just in case we backed up some.

I had to go down that particular street to pick something up from my parents' house, so I decided we'd wait until it was safe. Plus, with how much both boys love trucks, I knew they'd probably enjoy seeing the fire trucks so close. It's crazy, though, how when you're at the scene of an emergency how slowly time ticks by. I know it must have been less than five minutes, but it felt like so much longer.

We had backed up enough that we didn't have a direct view of the car, but close enough to hear two very loud bangs about a minute apart. That might have been the two front tires, not sure though. But with each bang I started to wonder if the whole car was about to explode and debated about whether or not I really wanted to be around for that.

Once the fire trucks, police cars, and ambulance all arrived, the fire was out and things were under control within a few minutes. Ben was so excited, trying to wiggle his way out of the stroller to get in on the action. He happened to be wearing his favorite jacket with a firetruck on the front - surely that was license enough to lend a hand, right? Hugh screamed in terror, not wanting to have anything to do with it. Funny how different their reactions were.

*here's the car, a day later

So, that was my not-so-ordinary day. And, really, what a relief! If I learned anything at all it was that I could not handle a job that would require me to be cool, calm, and collected in intense situations. And, just as I type that I fully recognize that having two boys could very much become such a job... haha! But, it did make me so much more grateful for all those who do have those kinds of jobs and fulfill them with such courage and expertise.

Here's to more just plain, ol' good ordinary days... like today! Except for the snake part. (Don't worry, nothing happened with the snake. It just scared me as it almost slithered across my bare toes while out on our walk this afternoon. Maybe I should stop going on walks.... haha!)

A not-so-ordinary day

2011-10-05T22:17:00.000-07:00

After a bit of a long night, with both boys awake and crying a couple of different times, morning came with a terrible lack of enthusiasm. I had planned out my morning very precisely before going to bed, reviewed it with Marc so he would be on board with my plans, and felt sure it would all go smooth as buttah.

While I was grinding my wheat (to make a batch of whole wheat bread), I decided to grind a little extra to make some whole wheat pancakes for my boys. So, I got the pancakes mixed up while waiting for the yeast to get all frothy like it's supposed to, then had Marc step in to finish flipping the pancakes while I added in a few more ingredients to the bread dough. Then, Marc and the boys had breakfast while I headed out the door on my morning run, which I was actually pretty excited about since the skies above were clear of clouds and rain, leaving the air clean and fresh.

I had anticipated rain this morning, so being out without the rain had me on cloud nine. I was making great time, running at about an 8-minute pace. I went on my favorite four-mile loop that starts off taking me through the neighborhoods at the foot of the west hills that leads me passed old Victorian-style homes and quiet streets, then I wind down toward the center of downtown and passed this local bakery that tricks me into thinking I'm back in Modena and craving those darn bombolas (a doughnut of sorts that is filled with Nutella or Creme) that we'd eat after teaching English class. Then, I eventually wind back up to the second main drag in my small town and back home.

Well, just as I was passing mile three, there was an older woman out on her morning walk up ahead of me, coming toward me. I was running in the bike lane and when she saw me, she went to move up to the sidewalk. Everything happened so fast that I'm not sure exactly what happened, but all of sudden she was down on the sidewalk, hitting her head hard enough that one of the lenses of her sunglasses was knocked right out of the frames.

I ran right to her and helped her to a sitting position. She was clearly in shock and feeling a little embarrassed. As I tried to reassure her and assess the situation, blood started trickling down the left side of her face, where she had fallen. I don't do so well with blood or emergency-like situations. Just ask Marc. On the few somewhat serious situations we've been in with the boys and their accidents, I am quite the sight. I can't help but laugh out loud at the replays I do in my mind of those moments, watching myself go into full panic mode... nearly hyperventilating at the slightest hint of blood.

There I am wiping her dripping blood with my hands, trying to figure out what I can use to stop the cut on her temple from bleeding. I didn't have anything. I almost stripped off my shirt. That was (thankfully) when I saw an older gentleman just about to go into a doctor's office right in front of us. I called to him, "Can you grab us some tissues?" He sort of nodded, a little confused, and continued with his cute old man meander. Remember, I'm in panic mode and just about jumped up and sprinted passed him in my anxious state of trying to clearly save this poor woman's life. That was about when I noticed more blood is now coming from a cut on the bridge of her nose.

In the meantime, my new friend remembered she had a kleenex in her jacket pocket. But, turns out she couldn't unzip it because of how she fell on her wrist, so I helped her with the zipper and we finally got the bleeding under control, when a nurse and a doctor come out from their office. After a brief conversation with them, the sweet little lady decided she just needs to walk back home and then find a way to the hospital to get her wrist checked out. She never did accept my offer to walk with her, insisting she was "just fine and not dizzy at all."

There was no way I was going to let her walk, what turned out to be, almost a mile back to her house. I was going in that direction anyway, so we walked arm-in-arm making small talk the whole way, talking about her grown children and grandchildren, her husband who passed away last year, and a mutual friend of us both who had a similar fall on the same street while out on her morning walk not too long ago. Crazy small world. And, apparently some crazy dangerous sidewalk on that street.

In the end, I got her safely to her house with a plan in place to call her daughter for a ride to the hospital. Upon returning home I had forgotten about my rising bread dough that Marc had appropriately (at my instruction) beaten down (twice) when it had gotten too big, which for some reason made my bread loaves very deflated and ugly-looking. I just have to remind myself when I see it sitting all ugly on my countertop that it still tastes good and that having ugly-looking bread isn't the worst thing to deal with. (or is it? I'm still trying to convince myself... )

Later in the afternoon, when there was a break in the storm, I took the boys out on a walk and decided to drop by the lady's house to check in on her. That was when our day got even more exciting....

Surgery Day

2011-10-03T22:03:00.000-07:00

Our morning started extra early. Ben woke up at 5am. We hoped he'd go back to sleep, but ten minutes later Hugh was up and both were crying in unison. Not exactly how I was wanting the day to start. Hugh wasn't able to eat or drink after midnight, so I got him up at 11pm last night to feed him some yogurt and nurse him once more. Still, he was just a little confused (and possibly mad) this morning when I didn't nurse him or make him any pancakes. One of the hardest moments of the day.

We had to check in two hours before his scheduled time, just in case they finished with the other patient early and could get Hugh in early, too. Hanging out in a waiting room for nearly two hours on an empty stomach, Hugh was a champ! He played with his cars, "bbbrrrrmmming" the whole time... until he noticed the cats on the TV, which then had him meowing. He is my little ham, constantly bringing out smiles and laughter from everyone in his presence.

It was so perfect when they called us back to the pre-op room, to find on his bed a tiny hospital gown with little tigers on it. When I pointed it out, he went back and forth from a meow to a roar. And, then he kept trying to find a way out of his gown.

He put up a good fight with the blood pressure cuff, which dashed the nurses plans to try get the IV in with Hugh awake and aware. So, that came later, after they put the mask over his face and made him drift into some crazy deep sleep. But, I wasn't there for that part. I had to hand him off to a kind-faced nurse named Lisa. She had a warm blanket in her arms, ready to embrace him as I gave him to her at the door of the operating room. I walked away quickly, so he wouldn't look or reach for me. And so I wouldn't cry. And then I took a deep breath.

For the next hour, I filled a prescription for some pain medicine for Hugh, went to the bank and the grocery store, and checked off a couple of other quick errands. I made it back just in time to get settled and about to open up my new book, when I saw one of Hugh's nurses rushing toward me in the waiting room. I hurriedly gathered my things and followed her to Hugh's recovery room. Just as she opened the door, I heard his undeniable scream.

Music to my ears. He was waking up from that deep scary sleep and he was alive and well. In pain and a little confused, but that was remedied with some snuggling and his delayed morning feeding. Soon he was fast asleep in my arms. After they felt satisfied with their monitoring of him, he was discharged and we came back home to more snuggling and sleeping for the rest of the afternoon.

Hugh seemed to not be able to use his legs much, even by the end of the evening, but we're thinking that's probably normal and we're hoping all will be back to normal tomorrow. But, he can still meow. He sat comfortably with Marc while I made him some soup for dinner, laughing at Ben and "bbbrrrrmmming" while playing with his cars. And, he still remembers how to give kisses.

I'm realizing it was silly of me to hope for a boring day, but it definitely lacked drama and trauma, and that was more than what I could have hoped for. I'm breathing more calmly and deeply tonight, so grateful for my two boys sleeping peacefully down the hall, for their lives that continue to be preserved and for the joy and fullness they bring to my life.

And, a big thank you (again and again) to those of you who offered your prayers on our behalf!

Hoping for Boring

2011-10-02T22:23:00.000-07:00

It was a good weekend. Started off with a family outing to Beverly's (a craft and fabric store), to pick out some new fabric for curtains in our front room and kitchen. Would you believe we've lived in this new home for six months now and we still haven't taken down the flowery valences that were left up by our landlord? And, as bad as that is, it gets even worse. We still haven't unpacked any of our paintings or photos or wall hangings of any kind, except for the large mirror that hangs in our front room. Six months... sigh. Maybe the new curtains will be the right kick in the pants.

Most of the rest of the weekend was spent watching and listening to General Conference. One of my favorite moments was hearing a talk on Saturday afternoon by my mission president, LeGrand R. Curtis, Jr. It has been almost 11 years since I've been home and probably 10 since I saw him last. He is such a neat man, whom I love and respect so much. It was wonderful to see him and to get to hear him share his experiences and testimony again! Lots of good stuff to put into action from all the messages.

I was a little distracted for much of today. I kept getting this urge to get out the video camera and capture Ben and Hugh doing all the cute things they're doing these days. (They're also doing not-so-cute-things that I really don't care to capture, like tackling and biting. Yikes!) I was super excited yesterday when I finally got them to figure out how to give kisses, not only to Marc and me, but to each other... and it is the cutest thing. EVER! It makes me laugh and makes my heart all warm to witness it.

But, I'm a bit more emotional than usual because Hugh is going in for his hernia surgery tomorrow morning and there's something about general anesthetic and my baby that has made me all nervous and uneasy. I hate the reminder that life is fragile and I hate that my mind automatically goes there in moments like this. I'm just praying for a good ol' boring story to share. I don't care for drama, never have.

And, assuming that all goes smoothly, then I'll have a good couple of hours to get lost in Catching Fire... something to keep my emotional mommy feelings calm and collected while my baby is away. Anyone else already read it? I can't wait to jump and see where the story goes.

As for Hugh's story tomorrow, hope with me for boring? (and smooth and successful, too!)

Life with Boys

2011-09-30T22:08:00.000-07:00

Where did September go? My absence around here should clearly indicate that I'm the mother of two very active toddler boys who are on the go go go, which actually requires me to be going even faster. I was warned of this, but it's pretty funny how often I find myself having to run in opposite directions.

It's been a busy month, mostly spent enjoying the final hot days of summer (as in triple digits), knowing that our rainy season will be just around the corner (which means like three straight months of rain in some cases).

Have I ever expressed how much fun it is to have boys?! They are fun and hilarious and so stinkin' cute! And, just in case you need some proof, here is just a glimpse of our last month:

Ben and Hugh - sword fighting with Grandma's silk flowers... boys will be boys!

Ben doing his yoga... a pretty common pose to find him in throughout the day:

Hugh finding yet another way to pester his big brother:

Hugh picking blackberries, not afraid of the thorns or the sour berries

The frog we found in the sand/water table in our backyard... he quickly became Ben's best friend, picking it up without any hesitation but with so much gentleness, then gently placing him back in the water after a quick blow on the face (we think that was his way of kissing it...haha!)... Hugh, on the other hand, didn't want to have anything to do with the little frog.

Here you can see the frog where Ben had placed him on the ledge, hoping he'd jump into the water again:

Hugh learning how to rake the leaves... might as well get them working young, right?!

Shouldn't every kid have a picture like this as a baby?

Or at least one like this:

I look at pictures like this one and am amazed at how fast the time is going... look how big he looks!

And, then I look at pictures like this and just about die laughing... how much will he hate me for this?! (He is normally dressed at all times, but on this particular day he had a bad rash, so I was letting him air out a little.)

So, yes, life is busy with these two. But, boring? No way! And, though I feel like I'm always saying it, I'll say it again and again:

I wouldn't have it any other way!

Forever - a year later

2011-09-03T21:16:00.000-07:00

I can hardly believe it has been a year. Seems like yesterday. The day Ben was made officially ours. Forever.

Below are some of the photos we had taken that day by my dear childhood friend, Sarah, who happens to be a really talented photographer in the Bay Area. If you are in the area and need someone good, she is it!

I don't know that I'll ever find words adequate to express what it means to have been blessed with such a perfect little boy who came to us in such a miraculous way by a woman who acted with the most pure, selfless love. Adoption has overwhelmingly blessed my life and I will never be the same.

For more photos from our special sealing day, go here.

For some of the thoughts immediately following our experience on this day a year ago, go here.

Our fun-packed August

2011-08-28T19:30:00.000-07:00

After spending a week at the beach in July, we came back home and I decided we'd spend the rest of the summer getting out of the house every afternoon to do something fun. It's a lot of work with these two young and active toddlers (made much easier with grandparents who live closeby!), but it has been so much fun. The month of August has flown by!

We've spent some days up at the lake - feeding the ducks and getting in the water. Ben has already started to show the first signs of learning how to swim!

We've gone to the park, where the boys love to explore this little area of redwood trees - collecting sticks and gather rocks. Ben has even found a little nook in the fence where he keeps all of his treasures, returning with each visit to check up on everything. I love having boys!

We've spent a lot of time at Grandma and Grandpa's, playing in their backyard. Ben loves playing in the water and Hugh loves finding rotten plums that have fallen off the plum tree. I just find them so adorable with their chunky little bare chests!

While visiting Grandma and Grandpa, Ben and Hugh also love a little time tinkling the ivory on my Mom's baby grand piano. They play quite the duet!

We've also stayed close to home, playing in the backyard with the sand and water table. Just the other day Ben figured out how to climb on top and get right into the water. And, while Ben can most likely be found dumping a bucket of water down his front side, Hugh is most likely to be found near the blackberry bushes, eating the berries right off the vine - literally - as in, not even bothering to pick them off with his fingers first. Silly boy!

With Ben and Hugh at their current stages, we have some struggles at times with teaching them how to play nicely together. But, I'm feeling more and more grateful for little moments when I find them playing and laughing, completely on their own, without a mediator standing guard. A week or so ago I was busy doing a few things and realized the boys had wandered back to their bedroom. I was just about to get up to check on them (hoping they weren't trying to injure each other), when I heard the happiest giggles coming from their room.

I love moments like this! It is such a joy to watch these two grow and learn and become little boys!

Belated

2011-08-27T21:49:00.000-07:00

This is a quite a bit overdue, but I wanted to thank you all for the advice with the bottle weaning. It was helpful to hear what others' experiences have been like - to know I'm not alone in this. I also appreciated the help with readjusting my perspective and expectations. I've decided to give my little Ben time to make the transition when he's more ready for it. And, I'm pretty sure he's more than happy with that decision! Really, so am I.

Bottle weaning

2011-07-31T21:15:00.000-07:00

We have (what feels like) a very serious dilemma we're facing right now and I need help!

We're trying to wean Benjamin from the bottle and nothing seems to be working. He only takes a bottle before his nap and before bedtime. Part of the problem is that his bottle has a three-fold purpose: 1) drinking milk, 2) sucking on it after the milk is gone, like he would a pacifier (except that he has never taken a pacifier), and 3) using it as a teether.

He uses a sippy cup during meal times and throughout the day just fine, which is mainly filled with water. So, our first attempt at bottle-weaning was to feed him milk out of his sippy cup, when it came time for nap and bed time. He hated it. Screamed. Threw it on the floor. We were firm at first and would just put him down without any milk for the first couple of naps (we didn't dare try it at bed-time until we (and he) felt comfortable with the change). But, after a couple of days of just miserable nap-times, we caved and went back to the bottle.

Our next attempt was to gradually water down the milk in his bottle until he would just flat-out refuse the bottle on his own. That backfired. Turns out that Ben likes his bottle, even if it's filled with plain, pure water.

Then I went to the store and bought different types of sippy cups, thinking he might take milk from a different kind of sippy cup than what he usually uses during the day for meals. Approximately eight different sippy cup styles later and still no luck.

We're at a point now where his bottle nipples have been chewed so much that they're cracked and falling apart. Buying new nipples is not an option. This is the perfect opportunity to finally cut off the attachment to the bottle and throw out the nipples.

BUT, I don't know what to do! Is this something we should be patient about and let him decide when he's done with the bottle? Or do we need to just throw them out and not worry about whatever trauma results? Has anyone else had a child so attached to the bottle like this? What did you do to wean your child from it? Does anybody have any genius ideas that worked?

Beach Bums

2011-07-27T22:19:00.000-07:00

We spent the entire week last week at the beach. Some friends of ours were unfortunate enough to have to go to Spain for two weeks, and we were fortunate enough to get to house-sit for them for one of their weeks away. My parents spent a couple of days with us, and since Marc had work projects for the first part of the week, he joined us mid-week.

The days we were there were gorgeous and absolutely perfect - blue skies, warm air, cool ocean breeze.

We played in the sand...

we chased seagulls...

we tried to tackle waves (which never worked out in our favor!)...

we explored all the fun stuff on the beach (Hugh tasted every last object he could get his hands on)...

The waves were inviting - in fact, a little too inviting for my two little boys. If ever there was a question of their fearlessness, it has since been washed away along with any hopes of my sanity past the age of three. Maybe four. Are boys just born without fear?

It was the perfect time to spend a week at the ocean, just after passing the twins' birthday, with my thoughts turned a little more tenderly toward feelings and emotions in my heart. There is no place like the ocean to process some of those feelings, as those waves seem to know all too well the ebb and flow of the heart's emotions.

And, as I watched my boys run full-speed toward those impressive waves, with determination and unmatched courage, I realized how much I have to learn from these little guys. It was so clear to observe that there is a joy that comes when life is embraced and faced head-on, lived like it's meant to be lived. I left the beach last week with a new perspective and renewed desire to live life a little more fully and to not be so afraid of life's ebb and flow.

Blanket of Peace

2011-07-17T22:09:00.000-07:00

Earlier this week there were a few moments of great sadness that left my heart aching and me sobbing, but yesterday - on my girls' birthday - my heart felt comforted in a way it hasn't before.

Friday night I was feeling hesitant about my decision to start the day off with the 10K race I had signed up for. I had trained for it and was ready physically, but emotionally and mentally I wasn't sure if I was up to snuff, and I don't think I'm alone in my assessment that running requires just as much mental energy and discipline as physical. But, once I paid my twenty-six fifty, there was no turning back. So, I went and I did it. And, much to my surprise, I finished fourth among the women and first in my age division. But, even better than that was the hour and seven seconds I had completely to myself to think about my girls, about my first experience with motherhood, and what the last three years have taught me.

As I was approaching the final stretch and wrapping up my unfinished thoughts for later, it was like music to my ears to be brought back to my present reality with the sounds of Hugh's very loud and distinct crying at the finish line, which I first heard at least a block away. A smile stretched across my face and I couldn't help but feel full and complete with my life as it is. For it is just as it should be, at least for right now.

(Please, someone, reassure me that there is hope for un-awkward family photos in the foreseeable future. Ha!)

A little later in the day we released some balloons at the cemetery with my parents.

We decided to save the two that Ben and Hugh would have released to bring home for them to play with, which was probably a good decision once we saw the looks on their faces as they watched the other four balloons float out of sight.

And, the boys clearly thought the grave site with the flags and flamingos (just up from the twins) was the happenin' place to gather. It didn't convince me enough to change anything about our own little site, much to their dismay.

Before they did too much damage, we relocated to the lake, where we walked along the dam and watched the boats and some ducks doing their thing. And, later, after the boys were down for the night, Marc and I had some quiet time to reflect and remember. Overall it was a beautiful day blanketed with the warmest feeling of comfort and peace.

Three years ago I witnessed things I'm still trying to process and understand, but among those things the greatest by far is a mother's love in its purest form. That love has only grown with time and separation, and I am anxiously awaiting the chance to be with my sweet baby girls again someday.

And, before I close this down for the night, I have to add a note of gratitude to my blogging friends:

I have appreciated your thoughts, your prayers, your kindness in so many forms through so many things we've been through. I was re-reading some of the comments left for us, particularly after we first lost our twins, and was brought to tears by the sweet messages we received from so many of you - some of whom we've never met in person. To each of you, we thank you with all our hearts. Your love has eased our burdens on so many occasions and we are grateful. Surely your prayers and thoughts for us added to the blanket of peace we felt this past weekend. Thank you. Thank you!

The calm before the storm?

2011-07-13T22:26:00.000-07:00

In July 2009 when we marked the first year of losing the twins, I was a complete wreck. I was sad and scared and still so heartbroken and lost. We went camping. I needed some distraction. I needed alone time with Marc without the normal day to day distractions. It was nice and beautiful and relaxing and peaceful... until we returned home to find that the burden of grief was as heavy as ever hovering over our existence, waiting for our return.

Then, last July I had two cute boys that I thought would keep the sadness away. So, I just avoided thinking about anything related to the twins. Just for the record, avoidance didn't work. In some ways I think the sadness and grief came with even greater force when they did come.

So, this year I've been waiting and welcoming. And, I've been a little surprised to find that in some ways I feel like Grief has become my friend. I'm not afraid anymore - I've already overcome and survived the very worst it can do. And, I don't feel the need to avoid any of the related feelings - those feelings of sadness and loss actually make me feel even more alive. You can't have a heart that feels pain so intensely that it physically hurts and not be aware of how real that vital organ is.

Plus, now I'm much more aware of healthy outlets that work for me and bring me peace amid the storms. My morning running schedule has been a huge source of therapy. The cheapest therapy I've ever had. I signed myself up for a 10K on Saturday morning - six point two miles I'll run in memory of my girls. I'm looking forward to doing this with them in mind.

Another healthy outlet - a little creative therapy. I've been working on a painting. It's a painting I've wanted to do and have had the idea of it floating around in my head for some time. Monday night I finally threw all of my excuses out the window - no time, no space, not enough artistic talent, etc... - and set up my easel and canvas and just started painting. I've spent roughly three hours working on it and I think I'm actually done with it. And, I really love it. There is something about it that has really brought its own measure of healing to my heart and a new connection to the twins.

And, rather than avoiding the anniversary and the memories associated with it, we're planning out meaningful activities, with the emphasis being on spending time together as a family. And, the feelings of sadness feel much more manageable this time around. I know that could swiftly change, as the ugly side of Grief can be so merciless, but I hope being aware of that possibility will help me get through whatever is yet to come.

But, so far, I feel an incredible feeling of calm. And, even if it is just the calm before the storm, I'm still grateful for these moments of peace and the powerful reminder that comes with that peace of the reality of the eternal nature of the soul, and in my case the eternal nature of two souls that really matter to me.

Waves of Grief

2011-07-10T22:48:00.000-07:00

Last night as I laid in bed, I leaned into Marc telling him how no matter how hard I tried all day to not think about it, I couldn't avoid the memories from three years ago.

July tenth was the day I went in for the laser surgery with Dr. Lee as the head surgeon. I was nervous going in. I was awake for the entire procedure. There was a sheet blocking my view of what was happening, but there was a nurse (or maybe it was a doctor?) standing above my head, reassuring me through it all. I just remember watching my blood pressure numbers changing every minute or so on the monitor next to me.

The surgery didn't last very long and right away the surgeons were optimistic. So were we. There was no room in my mind for the possibility of anything bad happening. It's strange to think back to the celebratory ice cream we ate in my hospital room after surgery. We were happy. We were hopeful. We were sure the worst was behind us.

I know it's normal to relive these memories and I'd choose to relive them rather than ignore them. But, even though it's a choice I choose, it doesn't get any easier.

It's like standing at the ocean's edge, looking off into the distance and seeing a very large wave forming. It's approaching with such great force that I can't help but to stand in awe and watch every movement as it grows in size and power. It's coming and I can see it coming and I actually want it to come. I'm bracing for the impact. It could easily sweep me away just as similar waves have done in the past, but it might not. Some waves look much worse from the distance, but lose some of their force before reaching shore.

I'm not really sure what to expect from this week, but I find myself wanting to experience it all in the most authentic and honest way possible. I've never been one to seek to over-dramatize my life, but I'm also not going to minimize the feelings that are connected to my sweet babies.

So, I'll be keeping my eye on that wave, while also taking in all the emotions and experiences that come lapping at my feet. I'll pause to snuggle and chase the two miracles that now fill my arms, embracing them a little bit tighter than usual. The waves will come and I'll let them wash over me, and then they'll go again.

And, I'll soak up the love and the joy that I feel knowing I have two little girls, perhaps a bit nearer to me this week, reliving it all again, too.

My Running Hat

2011-07-08T21:44:00.000-07:00

A year ago I was recovering from my c-section and could barely walk without wincing with every step. I'd heard it was best to wait eight weeks before trying to start an exercise routine, but even after a few months I was still having a hard time doing much more than an easy walk around the neighborhood. I'd hear my friends talking about their morning runs and seriously doubted if my body would ever fully recover enough to do any kind of intense exercise again.

After a few attempts here and there to pick up running again, I finally decided to give myself a year to fully recover and focus all my energies on embracing my new mother-of-two-small-babies hat. I went on frequent walks with the boys in their stroller, but I put aside my running hat, certain I would know when the time was right to get it out again.

In May when my sister was visiting, I knew it was the perfect time to dust off the running shoes and jump back into a good routine. I was sure that having a running partner for nearly three weeks would make it much easier to get started and keeping going. And, it was. Now that it has been almost two months, we've both kept up with our morning runs, often calling each other before heading out the door to give each other that little motivational push.

Just this week I broke six miles and it feels so good. I've been realizing how much running has become my outlet. That might be part of the reason I haven't been blogging much - I leave the bulk of my thoughts out on the pavement to be swept away with the wind. Which is probably a healthy thing for me with it being July and all.

Putting on my running hat again has proved to be healthy on so many different levels - even to the point that I feel like it's helping me fit better into my mother-of-two-active-toddlers hat. And, I feel so grateful for a body that can function again like it did before having major abdominal surgery.

The other day when I returned home from a long run, as soon as I walked through the front door, Hugh walked toward me with his arms stretched high, reaching for my hat. That boy and hats, I tell you! I reluctantly gave in and right away he put it on his head. It was so cute (and gross at the same time) that I had to capture the cuteness. (I don't know what it is, I never used to sweat like I do now.)

It appears Hugh loves my running hat as much as I do. But, I hope my children will always know that there isn't a hat that I love wearing more than that of mother.

Road Trip Photos

2011-07-03T22:12:00.000-07:00

How 'bout we start off with an awkward family photo? We seem to get a lot of those these days. Among other things, we need to work on all looking in the same direction, I guess.

Carson with Ben and Gemma with Hugh:

Ben sending Carson off to Brazil (in just a few more weeks!) with lots of cuddles:

Hugh and Brigitta saying good-bye:

Hugh doing his latest trick of pointing up at the "light":

Hugh had this thing with standing on Nana's rocking chair. Not just standing. Dancing! Crazy kid!

And, he thought it was so funny...

And thought he should stress me out just a bit more with some other tricks...

And, I can't quite tell what this expression says, but it's my typical serious-Hugh-look:

Here is some of the constant attention they were getting... I mean, who wouldn't love that?!

Ben found himself right at home with a car and a kitchen floor:

Hugh, after coming down the slide, the static making what little hair he has stand on end:

Playing at Nana's house was so much fun!

Bath time at Aunt Carol's:

Sunday morning photo opportunity:

Zac and Hugh, looking handsome:

Ben and Colton, showing off their striking blue eyes:

Both boys sleeping in the car - which actually happened more frequently than not, making our first road trip a rather pleasant one!

Our First Road Trip. Eek!

2011-07-01T22:16:00.000-07:00

We just returned from our first official family road trip. Well, on Monday we returned. Is it already Friday? It's been a long week of getting settled and caught up with life. The big news is that we survived!

Anxiety was building in the days leading up to our day of departure. Trying to be prepared for every possible scenario in the car for long hours with two babies, with whom we aren't yet able to reason with... well, it's exhausting just thinking about. Clearly not an upside to my OCD tendencies.

Fortunately everything went far better than I could have hoped for. The boys did great! I like to think that my preparations helped with that, but I think the boys would have done just as great even without the three bags full of a dozen different types of snacks, especially since they seemed to prefer their ever-trusted goldfish over some of the newer, flashier snacks they've never had. I really was surprised that they weren't all over the fruit roll-ups.

It took us exactly 12 hours to make it to our first destination, leaving at 4am with a stop halfway to play at a park and then a stop for lunch at an IHOP. (Note to self: always order pancakes at a place that is known for their pancakes. The omelet I got was mediocre at best.) Our timing wasn't bad, considering that stretch would normally take roughly 10 hours.

But, after 12 hours of traveling, Ben and Hugh were sure happy to be freed from their car seats, and even more happy to become acquainted with family they hadn't yet met. We were welcomed with open arms and two bedrooms to settle in for a few days. We relaxed, we played in the most amazing backyard, we ate really good food, I had a running/tennis partner for a couple of days, we watched movies, we chatted and got caught up, wondering the whole time why so much time had passed between visits and vowing to not let that happen again.

After a few days we headed further north to see more family anxious to pinch our babies' cheeks and steal some cuddling time. The weather was cool, but we still managed to get in some play time at the park and running around in Nana's backyard. The bubble machine was a hit and Marc satisfied taste buds for food that he seems to crave every time we visit his old stomping grounds.

Another few days later, we headed even further north (not quite to Canada) for a day and a night with Marc's brother and his wife, with a dinner date with Aunt Carol. Dinner was followed by an impromtu bath (for Ben and Hugh) in her very big (which equals very fun) bath tub. It was the first bathing experience on the trip that didn't immediately result in frantic screaming. For some reason, my boys are very wary of unfamiliar bathtubs.

We headed down to central Oregon for the final few days of our trip. The oldest nephew between both of our families recently got married and we were happy to make it to their reception. Although, after getting lost and not having a good map to guide us and then not getting the best directions from a lady in line in front of me at Safeway, we were starting to wonder if we'd ever make it. I was a little suspicious of her navigating skills when, after looking at the map for a good minute, she said, "let's see... I'm just trying to figure out which way is north."

While there were long hours spent in the car, the time spent with family went way too fast. We didn't have nearly as much time to reconnect with everyone as we would have liked, but hopefully the next visit will make up for it. The boys had a great time! Rather than being the center of attention of two, there was a whole audience on any given day surrounding them with love and applause and kisses to last them a lifetime (or at least until the next visit).

I have yet to go through the photos from our trip, so they'll be coming soon!

Trucks, Trunks and Scavenger Hunts - Oh My!

2011-06-10T22:25:00.000-07:00

While Hugh is keeping me busy with all the different hats he's wearing these days, Ben is keeping me on my toes. No matter how on top of things I think I am, I keep realizing that this little guy is always a couple of steps ahead of me.

One of Ben's most recent games (though I'm not sure he realizes it's a game or that I'm not particularly enjoying this game!), is hiding things in the least expected places. The other day he had taken off one of his socks and when it came time to head over to the park, I could not find that other darn sock anywhere. I searched and searched and searched and finally found it in the cupboard with the canned food.

On a different day, it was the same story except this time with his shoes. I never understood why it was so hard for parents to keep track of their kids' shoes... until now that I'm living with my very own 17-month old. I don't know what made me finally look here, but I found his shoes hiding behind this bowl in the kitchen.

I can pretty much guarantee that if you were to come to my house at any point between 6am and 6pm (when Ben isn't in his crib asleep), he will have a truck of some sort in each hand. And, maybe even carrying a third with the use of his two index fingers, holding it against his mouth.

Even when he gets too tired to stand (or sit), he'll just lay on the floor and roll the trucks back and forth, at times making a slight "vvvrrrroooommm" sound. And since Ben was invited to start going to the Nursery class at church two months before his 18-month birthday, every time I peek in on him he's in there with a truck of some sort in each hand, just as content as can be.

Ben still loves to play with his big truck, but rather than riding on it he mostly just pushes it around. Lately he has started to fill the trunk with things. One day it was a large bag of Cocoa Dyno-Bites. He'd found it in the cereal cupboard and I watched him as his carefully opened the lid of his trunk and placed the large bag on top. Then, he proceeded to push it around the house until he got so tired that he laid down and pushed it around.

But, normally he has smaller items in his trunk. On this particular day, I decided to take a picture of what he had in it - the lid to my teapot, two balls, and a can of kidney beans. (I'm wondering if I should be taking note of these items for our Emergency Preparedness.) He apparently didn't like that I was snooping around, because he came right up and slammed the trunk door shut (as you can see with his hand in the photo).

There is never a dull moment around here! I'm sure it's only about to get better... or do I say worse? Ha!

Hugh's growing stats and personality

2011-06-08T22:14:00.000-07:00

We had Hugh's one year check-up last week, a couple of weeks after his birthday. He's weighing in at 22 pounds 13 ounces and is roughly 30 inches long, with a head circumference of 49cm. Basically he's healthy and growing strong.

As I was going through some of our recent photos, I just had to share some that display a little more of his personality that is emerging more and more everyday.

Here he was walking around with this balloon hanging out of his mouth... not sure why...

... but it apparently made him hungry for cereal.

While I was busy making dinner, I looked over to notice him pulling all of the plastic dishes out of this bottom drawer and then proceeded to climb in. I wasn't sure how he was going to get out of this position:

But, he did! And then he sat there and analyzed this sippy cup for a bit and then began bobbing up and down, apparently liking the way the drawer bounced with him. And, after a couple of minutes he just climbed right out, as if nothing was strange about the situation.

Hugh has this thing with putting things on his head. Everything can become a hat. A pot's lid:

A shape sorter:

I caught him the other day, climbing onto his car backwards. Hopefully he won't figure out how to drive it this way... I can only imagine the danger he could find that way.

Hugh is a hoot and a half - constantly making us laugh! Such a happy first year with him!

Memorial Day

2011-05-30T22:08:00.000-07:00

Today, for Memorial Day, we took the boys to the cemetery. Even though I know they aren't able to understand everything right now, we want moments like that to always feel like a normal part of our life, and our girls a normal part of our family.

We were happy to share the moment with my parents, my sister, and her two little ones.

Ben wanted to get down and run around, like we were at the park. He thought all of the graveside decor were toys... kinda hard to keep him from grabbing at everything!

Not wanting to disturb anyone or anything, we didn't stay long, but it was still a nice visit. Spending time remembering Elliana and Emmaline increasingly brings peace to my life and clarity to my priorities. I just hope that through the years these visits will provide Ben and Hugh with the same feelings of peace and clarity.

A Memory and a Reminder

2011-05-26T21:36:00.000-07:00

My sister, Mandi, has been in town for nearly two weeks... and she still has one week left to spend with us. It has been awesome. We've been running together in the mornings, taking our kids to the park almost every afternoon (only staying home on the few days of rainy weather), preparing meals together, working together on a giving my parents' kitchen a little bit of a face lift, we've talked and laughed and talked some more. And, our four kids have had playmates, which has been so fun to observe. I just wish we didn't live so far apart from each other and we could have more of these moments more often.

But, earlier today I realized that I should just be grateful to have any of these moments at all, even if they don't happen nearly as often as I would like. Mandi reminded me that it was fifteen years ago today that she was in her car accident that could have easily ended her life.

It was 1996. I was nearing the final weeks of my senior year of high school and she had just turned sixteen. I had made plans that Friday night to go see a movie with some friends - Twister, I think it was - and had assumed the car would be free for me to take. Then, just before I was about to leave, I watched Mandi bounce her way down the driveway with the car keys in hand, clearly with plans of her own to take the car for the night.

I remember feeling so frustrated and angry that she was taking off with the car, leaving me (the older sibling) with the only option of riding my bike to join my group of friends for our movie night. I yelled some not-so-nice words at her from our front porch, which didn't stall her one bit, which made me feel even more upset.

And, even though I was still fuming while watching her drive away, there was this slight feeling of regret for the feelings I felt and the things I said. The regret ate away at me all night.

It wasn't until much later that night, nearing midnight, when I returned home to an empty house, that I immediately knew something was wrong. Soon after stepping through the front door, my parents called from the hospital. Mandi had been in a serious car accident. The car was totaled, and Mandi's life was spared by fractions of an inch (literally). She lost control of the car on a dark, winding gravel road. The car flew off the road down a sixty foot cliff, landing on its nose into a river bed - with a tree going through the front windshield.

Somehow Mandi and her guy friend (literally) walked away from the accident back to his house (a half mile away or so), where his mother (a nurse by profession) quickly bandaged up their bleeding wounds and rushed them to the hospital.

I arrived at the hospital just in time for the doctor to stitch up some of Mandi's deep cuts on her left hand. I sat next to her bedside, letting her squeeze my hand with her right hand. That wasn't so bad. But, watching the bloody throbbing open hole in her neck made me turn all shades of blue and nearly passed out myself. Doctors and policemen were all stunned by the relatively minor injuries that were so close to being deadly, which would have matched the looks of the car.

Growing up, Mandi and I had our fair share of squabbles like the one we'd had the night of her accident, but all of a sudden the fragility of life made me realize it just wasn't worth it. Seeing her all bloody and cut up on that hospital bed, I was just so relieved to still have my sister. I wished so much I could have taken back the hurtful words I had left between us before she left that night. In the days that followed, I felt like the accident was my fault; fate's way of teaching me a lesson I would be sure to never forget. Well, it worked.

And, now that it's been fifteen years and our relationship has grown stronger than I ever could have imagined, I'm so grateful we've had these years to share together and for the memories we've made together. And, now to be providing chances for our children to make their own memories together makes my heart happy. I just can't imagine what the last fifteen years would have been like without her... it makes me sad to even think about.

Reflecting today on the fortunate events, and even miracles, that saved my sister's life so many years ago, has reminded me to be more grateful for each moment of this fragile life. As much as I don't like that phrase "you just never know...", it's actually true. You just never know. The gift of today is all we can count on for sure. And, I'm just grateful for the reminder to make the most of it.

Hugh's First Birthday

2011-05-20T22:20:00.000-07:00

Here are some fun photos from Hugh's birthday on Tuesday. He was excited to have so many people to share in his special day - Mom, Dad, Grandma & Grandpa, Aunt Mandi, cousins Audrey and Luke, and our friends Sarah and Noah. We were so happy to have friends and family celebrate his big day with us.

One of Hugh's favorite places to play is in the kitchen, pulling out all the canned food from the cupboard. And, I just happened to have my camera handy when he was excitedly playing with some tuna cans....

For his birthday cake I finally decided on a turtle. With that cute thing he does with stretching his neck out and with his turtle-like crawl, I just couldn't resist.

I didn't get a photo of his initial reaction to the cake and ice cream, but he was actually very hesitant. After putting a small bite in his mouth, then he dug right in, "mmmming" the entire time.

Hugh got some fun gifts for his birthday, but the big hit was this motorized car that my parents bought him. Ben seemed to think he should try it out first, and quickly figured out how to make it drive. We were all laughing so hard, watching such a tiny little guy driving the car. He looked much too grown up than I'm ready for.

Then, Hugh had a turn on his car. Before anyone even had a chance to show him the button to press to make it move, he was already moving! We laughed even harder watching Hugh driving around on it. I kept shaking my head in disbelief. Where did my babies go?

Some fun facts about Hugh:

- he has the cutest little grunty laugh

- he has the largest hands and the longest fingers I've ever seen on a baby - the span of his fingers almost reaches 180 degrees, from his pinky to his thumb.

- he babbles a lot, saying mama, dada, oh, and a whole lot of stuff we can't yet translate

- he is very cuddly, always preferring to be held by someone (especially Mom)

- he has a fiesty side to him that is coming out more - mainly whenever Ben tries to take away a toy from him

- he loves playing outside

- he puts EVERYTHING in his mouth

- he has an obsession with tags - if something has a tag on it, he will find it and play with it and cover it with slobber.

- he gets so excited when Ben is around and loves to follow him wherever he goes

- he loves our cats, especially Watson - when he sees either of them he does a high-pitched whine that clearly resembles a "meow"... it's really cute

- he's been taking multiple steps for the last month, but in the last week he's been walking a ton more - taking a dozen at a time. I think we can officially say he is walking!

- he's sleeping through the night, but wakes up consistently before 6am. I still offer him two naps a day, but he rarely sleeps more than two hours total during the day. He has never been a long napper.

- he's very serious when around people he doesn't know, but once he knows you, he is the most bubbly, excitable baby

- he is constantly dancing, which either consists of bobbing his head up and down or doing a full body bounce and sway. He can find the beat to anything that resembles a song.

- lately he's learned to shake his head back and forth and nod it up and down... but he does it and laughs the entire time

- he is a great eater, but especially loves yogurt, avocado, pasta, cheese, and pancakes.

- he is such a sweet boy with so much personality! We love him so much and are so grateful to have him in our family!

Hugh's Birth Story - some final thoughts

2011-05-18T08:02:00.000-07:00

Back in July of 2008, I remember so vividly the walk from my hospital room out to our car. The long corridors, hugging the Memory Box the hospital had given me to hold keepsakes from our twins' birth. I remembering feeling embarrassed and ashamed, wanting to hide any evidence that I had just lost my babies. I kept my head down to avoid all eye contact with any passersby. Clearly straddling the stages of denial and shock. I left there fully expecting to never walk those same hallways ever again.

When I arrived at the hospital last May to be with Hugh, and returned to that same building, the same hallways and elevators, I was too anxious to find my son to be distracted with any other thoughts. But it was clear they were there waiting patiently for me to acknowledge them. I recognized as soon as I entered the revolving doors at the entrance, that I had a choice - to either face those remaining painful memories and finally find some closure or continue to avoid them and pretend they weren't there.

Upon arrival, I just beelined it up to find my baby Hugh. I walked through one room of the NICU, seeing bassinets with babies in them and an army of nurses carefully monitoring every breath and movement. I was guided through a narrow hallway to an adjoining room and immediately upon entering I saw my boy. He was in the arms of one of the nurses I had talked to on the phone a few times.

Olivia was her name. She immediately apologized that I arrived to find Hugh being held by some stranger, to which I replied that nothing would have made me happier than to have found him being loved and cuddled like that. As soon as I was scrubbed down and dressed in their hospital attire, I finally got to hold my baby. Those three days apart were awful, but I was so relieved to find that he was no longer hooked up to oxygen or any other monitors that would prevent me from holding him. He had been in good hands and had made such great progress. He was healing and his body was stronger and healthier.

I ended up staying there for five days. Hugh was transferred to three different rooms, each move signifying he was progressing. I spent my days by his side. I slept down the hall in a closet-like room, but got up for his middle-of-the-night feeding. We bonded quickly, as if we hadn't been apart.

Every once in a while I would wander just down the hallway to get a glimpse of the room where I delivered Elliana and Emmaline. I walked through the details of that experience in my mind. Any of the remaining bitter feelings were set aside and all of the beautiful ones found their permanent spot in my heart. I imagined them being there with me, walking down that Memory Lane, helping me get past those last lingering scars. And, I felt sure of them fulfilling some angelic duty by watching over our little Hugh, their little brother.

Returning there, I didn't find the same dark hopeless place I had left behind. Instead I found a new and greater peace where I had so many unanswered questions. I found a calm reassurance that all was just as it should be. I found light and love and healing. Going back there, I couldn't have expected the healing Hugh and I would both find before coming home together.

There is a book I started reading when I was about a third of the way through my pregnancy with Hugh, called The Shack. I got nearly half way through and then got busy with my newborn Benjamin and suddenly free time was almost non-existent.

Even though I had put it down for a few months, I remained engrossed in the story, often finding myself reflecting on the author's perspective and philosophies about his own relationship with God and forgiveness and finding healing, not realizing at the time how much it would end up helping me make sense of some of my own unresolved emotions. That hospital, I would later realize was my own personal shack. If you've read the book, you know exactly what I mean by that. And, if you haven't, I would highly recommend it.

After my brief five day stay with Hugh, we were all released and sent on our way. Walking out hugging my baby to my chest this time around... there are no words. One cannot know the gratitude that filled my heart.

And, now that it is one year later and I'm still hugging my little Hugh, that feeling of gratitude is even more present. You would never know by looking at him that he had such a rough start. For that and so many other things, I am so grateful.

Hugh's Birth Story - Part Three

2011-05-16T21:56:00.000-07:00

Once I was comfortably situated on the hospital bed, all the vitals were checked. The midwives came in (more as doulas than in their capacity as midwives since they aren't contracted with the hospital here) and helped me through the labor. I continued pushing through the contractions and it became clear that while Hugh would start to come down a bit during the pushes, he was slipping right back up as soon as the contraction and pushing were over. Basically I was going back and forth between being at 9cm and 10cm.

If time had been a blur at home, it was warped into something completely unrecognizable at the hospital. It might have been a few minutes after I arrived, but I think it was quite a bit longer, the doctor on call came in to check on my baby and me. Right away he suggested putting me on pitocin, but I convinced him to let me try pushing for a little bit longer on my own to see if we could get things to progress naturally.

Two hours of intense pushing later he came in again. I think by that point they had me hooked up to oxygen because I was nearly to the point of complete exhaustion. I didn't have two legs to stand on to refuse the pitocin that time around. I was running out of energy and I hoped it would help my muscles do what I struggling to do. And, just as I had heard, that darn pitocin made the contractions longer and closer together than they already had been. What I thought then was exhaustion was nothing compared to what I experienced with the pitocin.

But, I started to feel a new wave of energy come when they announced they could see the baby's head, along with his dark hair.

Okay, I thought to myself, one more push. Just one more push and then he'll be here.

That precise thought continued echoing through my head for nearly three hours more of pushing. Had I known it was going to be three more hours, I would have thrown in the towel right then. But, I really thought the very next push would be the one.

The doctor came back in around five in the morning. This time when he checked me, he immediately insisted on an emergency cesarean. I was still convinced I could push my baby out, but something about the doctor's urgency quieted any fight I had left in me. They took me off the pitocin and brought in more paperwork than I knew what to do with - agreements and releases and practically signing my life away. Honestly, I have no idea what all I signed. I was delirious and just wanted it to all be over.

All the while I was in that stage where the urge to push is so strong that trying not to push took more energy than just allowing my body to do its thing. For about an hour I fought the urge to push, while waiting for my turn in the OR. Just after 6am things got moving.

I remember the anesthesiologist explaining what he was going to do and it going in one ear and right out the other. Just as he was about to stick that foot-long needle in my back a contraction neared and I begged him to wait until it had passed before I jerked just enough to paralyze me for life.

The numbness spread quickly and pretty soon the muscles that had been working for twenty-two hours had a break. I was tired. I was disappointed to be laying on an operating table with my arms stretched out and a blanket covering my view of the arrival of my baby boy. But, mostly I was just anxious to finally meet my son. I just wanted him in my arms. I wanted to get to know him, to know his smell, to feel his skin, to kiss his soft cheeks and whisper in his ear how much I loved him and how long I had waited for his arrival.

Marc was standing above my head, dressed from head-to-toe in blue, holding the video camera. (I don't know if he got permission, but no one seemed to notice or care.) He had to tell me when they had Hugh out. There was no cry. I watched Marc walk about twenty feet away where there were two nurses hovering over a table, and I knew they had my baby. I didn't know what was going on. I was so anxious to hear his cry.

When I finally heard his raspy little cry, I felt relieved. But, since they were still working on him and since he still hadn't be introduced to me, I knew something was wrong. With all my worrisome questions swirling around my tired little head, one of the nurses hurried to my side with my little boy in her arms. She leaned his face down to mine, allowing me to kiss his little cheek, before whisking him out of that operating room. I had no idea that little kiss would be the closest I would be to him for three hellish days.

Later I would find out that the doctor's urgent decision to do a c-section was based on some of the darkest and thickest meconium that came out when he checked my progress at 5am. Hugh had inhaled so much meconium while in utero that an x-ray of his lungs showed big globs of it all over. He was immediately taken to the NICU and hooked up to a CPAP oxygen mask, heart monitors, lung monitors and who knows what else.

After getting me stitched back up, they took me back to my hospital room to recover and await news of Hugh's condition. Whenever my nurse would come in to check on me, I would beg her to let me see my baby. I was ready to make my way down to the NICU with a very unflattering army crawl if I had to. She kept saying that there was no way they could take me to see him, but that they were trying to figure out a way to bring him to me.

I don't know what strings she had to pull, but sometime around 10am she wheeled me, still laying in my bed, down to the NICU (something she said had never been done there). Seeing Hugh hooked up to all those machines made my heart hurt. I was scared, but trying so hard to be brave. I couldn't even consider the possibility of death. I couldn't go there. I had to believe that he would be okay.

With everything he was hooked up to, I wasn't able to hold him. And, I could only reach far enough to massage his not-so-little foot. I had never seen such large feet on a baby. And there was something about his healthy 8 pounds 11 ounces that reassured me that he was ready to fight.

My time with Hugh lasted less than thirty minutes. I shared that time with Marc, my Dad and Ben. In that brief time, Hugh was given a blessing of healing, which he received at the hands of his father and his grandfather. That simple, but sacred, moment allowed me to leave my baby's side with faith and courage, knowing that his life was in God's hands and so was mine, which would end up carrying me through the coming days.

Within a couple of hours, I would find out that Hugh would be transported down to the same hospital where I gave birth to my twin daughters, with its higher leveled NICU. When I got the phone call, informing me of the move, my heart sank.

No, not that place, I thought. Not the place that represents the deepest, darkest hole of hopelessness and heartache. Not the place where I lost my babies. I can't lose another baby to that dark hole of a place.

I was supposed to have gone back there for follow-ups after losing the twins. I never went. I couldn't muster the courage to go back to the same building, the same hallways, the same doctors. I avoided it all. And, now I would be forced back, this time under different circumstances, but still with a heaviness following me.

But, first I would spend three very long days recovering in a hospital nearly three hours away from my newborn son. Those three days would be spent watching the brief footage that Marc captured on video of Hugh's first moments of life. I memorized every facial feature, the sound of his raspy voice, the shape of his head, his lanky fingers and toes, the cute overbite of his little mouth, the cone-shaped bump on his head from the intense hours of pushing he endured with me. Those video clips would keep me company through our separation.

While there was relief that Hugh had finally arrived, I think I felt more anxiety than I had ever experienced at the unknowns of what awaited me in the following days. Not only at bonding with my son and doing everything to bring him back home, but how I would handle reliving the memories from the summer of 2008 that were still waiting for my return.

Hugh's Birth Story - Part Two

2011-05-16T20:28:00.000-07:00

Hugh's impending arrival all became very real on the morning of May 16th. It was a Sunday. For a few days prior I'd been feeling some contractions, but they were never consistent and still left me unsure if I was in labor, which was a good sign that I wasn't. But that Sunday morning was different. When Marc came home at 8:30am from his early morning church meetings to pick up Ben and me, I casually mentioned that in the previous hour I had felt four contractions. I still wasn't convinced it was the real deal, but even if it was I knew it was best to keep moving around like normal, so off to church we went.

During that first hour of church, the contractions continued. They got closer together and lasted a bit longer. By the end of that first hour of church they were about 7 minutes apart and lasting about 30 seconds or so. I clearly didn't get much out of my church attendance on that particular day. Ben needed to be fed during the second hour, so Marc and I hung out in the gym. We were just a bundle of nervous energy anyway, so there was no point in trying to sit through a Sunday School lesson.

After feeding Ben, I called my midwife, Claudette, to let her know what was up. Since she lives more than an hour away, we wanted to make sure she had plenty of time to be forewarned. As she asked me questions about the length and strength of the contractions, I started to feel like this was really it. My baby was coming! With excitement running through my veins, we decided to ditch the third hour of church completely.

We headed home to get all the last-minute things done and prepared ourselves as much as we could for the unknowns of Hugh's impending arrival. Since I was focusing my thoughts on positive outcomes, I was very unprepared for the eventual outcome that was just around the corner. But things started off smoothly enough that I had no reason to worry about any of the possible things that could go wrong.

We got home at around 11am. I remember changing the sheets on our bed and changing into more comfortable clothes to labor in. I made sure all of our birthing supplies were all together and within easy access for Claudette and her assistant.

At around 1pm my parents came over with lunch - salad and chicken. By this time my contractions were all over the place. Marc was trying to time them with an application on his iphone, but I would think that I was having a contraction and he'd start the timer and then a much more convincing contraction would interrupt the first and I'd have to tell him to start over. Some were 7 minutes apart and lasting 45 seconds, while others were 4 minutes apart and lasting about a minute. I tried not to get overly excited when Marc's app told us we were already in the Transition Stage. I knew it had to be too good to be true.

I don't remember much about the time line after having lunch. I remember Marc trying to start a movie, thinking that it might help me relax, but I quickly asked him to turn it off since it made me feel distracted and annoyed. It must have been around 3pm or so that my parents went home, taking Ben with them. We didn't have much packed for him, convinced they'd be bringing him back home to meet his little brother in just a few more hours.

At some point, Marc set up the birthing tub in our kitchen. Sometime after that Claudette and Dana arrived. After setting up their stuff - dopplers and blood pressure cuff and oxygen mask and just about everything you'd see in a hospital-like setting - Claudette checked my progress, just after my water broke. I think it was about 4pm and I was dilated to a 4. When I got to a 7, a couple of hours later, they let me get in the birthing tub.

Time was a blur. I don't know if it got dark early or if I just remember it being dark because I had my eyes tightly closed. But, I do remember that once I got in the tub, I did not want to get out. It was as close to heaven as I was going to get with the contractions as intense as they were. Marc fed me ice chips and kept me hydrated. By 10pm I was at 9cm and Claudette encouraged me to try to push a few times to see if that would help speed up that last centimeter.

While I pushed, they monitored the baby's heart rate and soon discovered that it was dipping dangerously low during some of my pushes (though they didn't tell me that right away). At that point they helped me out of the tub and had me try some different positions, hoping that might make things better for Hugh. They even turned him so he was in a better position, but within minutes my little stubborn Hugh had turned himself back. That was when they nicknamed him Houdini.

At one point I heard some whispers between the midwives and understood enough to know that they were on high alert and our plans were about to change. I was laboring in the bathroom with Marc and I asked him directly if they were transporting us to the hospital. His look of apology said it all. They told Marc that the baby's heart rate had dipped down below 110 and highly suggested transporting and Marc agreed. By this point, nearly 16 hours of labor, I was just ready to meet my baby and was on board with whatever would get him to my arms quickly and safely. Once the decision was made, we were all rushing around like crazy. I got dried off and dressed - in one of Marc's t-shirts and my bath robe. We had planned for everything except a transport. We didn't have a hospital bag of any kind ready.

By this point the contractions were coming fast and were so intense I had to stop everything I was doing and brace myself while they passed. It felt like it took forever to get from the house to the car. The midwives told me to climb onto the back seat of our car for the drive to the hospital, on my hands and knees to try to get the baby to move from his posterior position, which was not helping things progress. Marc drove. The midwives followed in their own car. That half mile was the longest half mile of my life.

We arrived at the hospital just before midnight. Since Claudette had called ahead, the ER nurses were expecting us with a wheelchair all ready and we passed right by the paperwork at the front desk (thankfully) and all the people in the waiting room (I'm sure we were quite the site for that little audience!) and Marc wheeled me down the dark corridors to the Labor and Delivery wing, me begging him the entire way, "please just hurry, please just hurry!"

Hugh's Birth Story - Part One

2011-05-16T19:31:00.000-07:00

Just after Hugh was born I tried to write out his birth story, but it was just too hard to do. Now that it has been a year, I've decided it's time whether I'm ready or not. Everything went so differently than how I hoped or envisioned. After having such a traumatic experience with the twins' birth (and death), we worked so hard to try to ensure that Hugh's birth would be a different experience.

I suppose the early beginnings of Hugh's birth story actually started a couple of years ago. After hearing both my sisters talk about the hypnobirthing classes they had taken to help them have natural births, I liked the idea of having a natural birth experience without any unnecessary interventions. Plus, there was something even inviting about allowing my body to labor purposefully while being fully aware of every movement, every contraction, every feeling of bringing this new life into the world.

So, in February, when I was six months pregnant, I found out that a friend of mine who lives here had just started teaching Bradley natural birth classes (which, after attending, we highly recommend). We knew that if we wanted to have a natural birth we needed to learn about it - how to communicate with each other, how to cope with the laboring, and have the necessary tools and knowledge to respond to the different stages of labor. We signed up for the classes and started to feel excited and convinced that it was the right path for us. We learned so much about proper nutrition, relaxation, and how to avoid unnecessary interventions, just to name a few.

My entire pregnancy was shadowed by haunting memories of how we were treated and how things were handled with the twins' birth. As I tried to sort through some of those feelings, I paused one day to envision exactly what I wanted from Hugh's birth. I knew there were certain things I really wanted and certain other things that I really didn't want. After a lot of consideration, long talks with my OBGYN and her CNM, counseling with Marc, and some urgent prayers, we made some drastic changes to our birth plan... when I was about 33 weeks along.

At first I was a little (or maybe a lot) nervous about making big changes so far into my pregnancy. One night, in fact, I was so stressed about making such big changes so far along that I broke down in tears. After pleading for heaven's approval, I came away with a very clear reassurance that our little boy's life would be preserved, regardless of the details of our desired birth plan. All would be okay with our new direction. We met with a Certified Professional Midwife who was a lot more supportive of our desire to have a natural birth and after learning about her extensive experience (25+ years and attending over 1200 births), we immediately felt confident in her care.

Besides deciding on a natural birth, we also went with the choice to have a home birth. The more research we did of all our different options, and after weighing the pros and cons of each option, I really wanted the simplicity and beauty of a home birth.

Part of our comfort with that decision was the reassurance we felt from Claudette, our midwife, that she wouldn't hesitate to transport us to the hospital if it became necessary. Plus, the fact that we lived within a half mile of the hospital made us feel more comfortable with any possible "what ifs" that might come up.

So, we planned. We prepared. We bought a birth kit. We washed the towels and receiving blankets. We stocked our cupboards. We rented a birthing tub. We got our home ready to be turned into its own little birthing center, for one special little arrival.

Looking forward

2011-05-15T21:44:00.000-07:00

This week, with all of its extreme ups and downs, I'm actually really glad tomorrow is Monday.

But, first off, I have good news - Hugh's bruises from his accident last Sunday are completely gone. Although he does have some new ones, but luckily not any nearly as frightful. He hasn't slowed down a bit this week and I'm so relieved.

I was a little surprised, though, by how much Hugh's little collision with our end table on Mother's Day seemed to cause bruises on my heart. I couldn't look at him without feeling like I was looking at the poorest reflection of myself. And, while Hugh's bruises healed with amazing speed, I kept poking at mine. After an exhausting Tuesday, I came across this quote on my niece's blog:

"Occasionally discouragement may darken our pathway; frustration may be a constant companion. In our ears there may sound the sophistry of Satan as he whispers, "You cannot save the world; your small efforts are meaningless. You haven't time to be concerned for others.' Trusting in the Lord, let us turn our heads from such falsehoods and make certain our feet are firmly planted in the path of service and our hearts and souls dedicated to follow the example of the Lord. In moments when the light of resolution dims and when the heart grows faint, we can take comfort from His promise: 'Be not weary in well-doing . . . Out of small things proceedeth that which is great. Behold, the Lord requireth the heart and a willing mind."

- Thomas S. Monson

As I read it, the burdens I'd been carrying suddenly felt noticeably less heavy. And, I was reminded that these days, even with the bumps along the way, are the most sacred days of my life. And, even when I get overwhelmed by discouragement or inadequacy, I know I can ultimately decide how much I allow those feeling to linger. Plus, I'm guessing that life with boys is going to be full of accidents and stunts that won't end well. While I will do my best to protect and keep them safe, maybe what's even more important is how I respond when they fall.

***

The week got progressively better and since Thursday we've been eating this:

Marc requested yellow cake with chocolate frosting for his birthday cake. I had been eying my choice - Banana Split ice cream cake - for at least six months (during the period I was going dairy-free and craving ice cream like a true addict with insane withdrawals).

We ended the week with a visit from my dear friend Sarah and her son Noah, and the return of my parents (from their month-long hiatus) just in time for my Dad's birthday today, which also brought my sister and her two little ones, too. With visitors like that, only good things to come this week.

A complicated Mother's Day

2011-05-09T23:15:00.000-07:00

As Mother's Day approached this year, I had a flood of conflicting feelings come surfacing...

Gratitude for my own mother, for the blessing of being a mother myself, for those in my life who make me want to be a better mother.

Guilt for not measuring up.

Joy that comes from having two boys as mine.

Heartache for those who are still faithfully seeking out motherhood and might be having an extra hard time.

Satisfaction at where we've been and how far we've come in our own journey.

Inadequacy in falling short so often.

To name just a few.

And, with the day before Mother's Day being Birth Mother's Day, I was working on a couple of gifts to express our love and gratitude to Ben's birth mother, Tracey. I am in debt to her for the role she played in making me the mother to the sweetest blue-eyed boy.

As I was going through photos and videos from the last year, I inadvertently came across the video of Hugh's birth, which holds its own powerful emotions that still overwhelm me. Two miracles, each coming to us in their own unique way.

Sometimes I just shake my head in disbelief, not quite sure how we got to this place. But, here we are with more joy than we know what to do with. And, I feel guilty about that. I really do.

That's when I realized Mother's Day is really a complicated holiday. (Am I the only one who feels this way??) I've had years when I've disliked it so much I've wished I could cancel it somehow or skip over it or plaster it with Nutella (but, I wish I could plaster everything with Nutella). Then, last year I finally had a baby in my arms, living proof that I was indeed a mother, which obviously made it a much more festive holiday than years past. This Mother's Day, I figured, was bound to be even better, having both my arms filled with my two boys.

That was until at roughly ten to eight in the morning. I was cracking an egg into the pancake batter when I heard a crash. There was my little Hugh lying on the floor with our end table laying on top of him. We think he was reaching for the clock that was sitting on the table (which normally is up on top of our bookshelf) and in his reaching he brought the table down on himself.

I felt awful! He screamed, and I mean screamed like nothing I've ever heard. Then the bloody nose started. I was trying to stop the bleeding, but he would jerk his head from side to side trying to keep me from touching any part of his nose. We were worried that he might have broken his nose. The lump on his forehead was already starting to form, so I was trying to ice it with a bag of frozen corn. Oh, and I was shaking like crazy, wanting to fall into a puddle of my own tears. I tried to have Marc take over for a minute while I composed myself, but that made Hugh even more upset. It was high-adrenaline for about a half hour. Then, the crying slowly stopped, we offered him some Tylenol, and he fell asleep cuddled in my arms.

I was relieved that later, after a good, long nap, he was happy and seemingly oblivious to the trauma of the morning -

I am grateful beyond words for the blessing of being a mother, with all the ups and downs. I love my days with Ben and Hugh more than any other way I've spent my days previously. I just hope one day they'll forgive me for all the ways I'm surely going to mess things up.

And, I'm realizing that somehow I've got to figure out how to celebrate Mother's Day without all the conflicting and complicated feelings that seem to come with it now. I have to believe there are others out there who feel the same. Anyone?

Memories made in the Sun

2011-05-07T22:29:00.000-07:00

The big highlight of our time down with our friends was an important ceremony; a ceremony where my friend Christy became a U.S. citizen. It was a unique opportunity to experience. Feelings of patriotism mingled with spiritual feelings in such a way that I wasn't sure where one began and the other ended. It was such a privilege to be there for such a big moment for my friend.

I just love this photo! Aren't they the cutest family?!

** The photos above were done professionally by Christy's friend - she got some really incredible shots. Go here to see them for yourself. If you live in the area, you might just find an excuse to hire her for a photo shoot. She's good at what she does and was super nice! **

That day is really one that I won't ever forget. I'm so glad we found a way to be there and so grateful for the initial phone call from Dan that started the whole adventure. And, then to spend a few days in the sun, hanging out with their family was awesome and long overdue.

I'm sure it'll be obvious from the following photos that my boys were in heaven. They had so much fun! Of course, it helped that heaven was just outside their sliding glass door - the backyard held its own little park and playground. One day we'll have to get ourselves a backyard like theirs.

Ben fell in love with this Tonka dump truck (these two were pretty much inseparable)...

Ben found his own little version of pushing toys around like he does with his cars at home, this time at the window sill...

we laughed A LOT (Christy's three are some of the most genuinely hilarious kids I know - after just a day with them, you'd be convinced, too, I promise!) ...

we cleaned up messes (this was just after my two schemed together to get a bag of goldfish open and then proceeded to eat them off the floor) ...

we ate good food...

we cooled off...

we lounged...

Hugh learned from Dan how to play Super Mario Brothers...

and learned from Sorority Girl Elsie how to properly shout "Woo-hoo!"...

we played with Bella, the dog (and learned that my boys LOVE dogs, or at least this particular dog)...

we welcomed Daddy with big smiles when he arrived...

These photos give just a quick glimpse into our time together, but I wish everyone could have the chance to spend a day in their home, among their family. There is love in their actions and expressions, there is joy, there is calm even amid the moments of chaos, there is patience and temperance in moments of teaching (I'll never forget Levi's first experience with ebay!). Dan and Christy have both overcome their own personal Mount Everests, and dare I say on multiple occasions. They have their own stories that uplift and inspire and make the world a better place - well, at least my world. It truly is a blessing to call them friends.

The Best Neighbors

2011-05-05T21:57:00.000-07:00

Eight years ago (this week, in fact) Marc and I made our first big move as a young, married couple from our little duplex in Springville to an apartment in a little suburb of Portland. Tigard was home for just a little over a year, but we loved our time there. Some of our favorite memories all stem from the first big decision we made upon arrival - where to live.

After walking through at least a couple of dozen apartments, we finally ended up at Cross Creek. It wasn't even on our list of places to check out, but somehow we ended up there. I still remember walking up to the manager's apartment, looking around at the lovely setting of the complex, and already feeling like we had found the right place for us. When Christy (the manager) and her almost-one-year old daughter, Maddy, showed us one of the open apartments we felt even better about living there. There were some specific things that happened that finalized the decision and made it very clear to us that it was a good choice. I just didn't realize at the time how much such a decision would affect my life.

After living there for just a couple of short months, Christy echoed my squeals of excitement when we found out we were expecting our first baby. And, then just a couple of weeks later she was waiting as we returned home from the hospital with nothing but tears, broken hearts, and news that we had lost our baby. I remember being so touched by the tears she shed right along with me. I didn't expect compassion that deep from such a new friend.

We became fast friends. One of those friendships that doesn't take any effort. It was an added bonus that our husbands liked each other, too. And, over the last eight years, even with long distances separating us and visits that are much too infrequent, we've managed to keep our friendship as strong as it was when we were neighbors at Cross Creek.

~~~

A couple of weeks ago we were able to spend a little over a week in the sun with our all-time favorite neighbors. The boys and I squeezed ourselves into the back seat of my parents' Civic, as they were headed to my brother's house which was conveniently right on the way. I'll admit the boys weren't super pleased with my traveling arrangements that included waking them at four in the morning and them being strapped in their car seats for an insane amount of time... but we survived. Thanks, in part, to moments like this:

(We had to leave Marc behind to finish up some urgent work projects, but he joined us for the last couple of days.)

Once we arrived, I think the boys thought they were in heaven. And, I felt exactly the same way, though for different reasons.

More to come...

Happy Easter!

2011-04-24T07:27:00.000-07:00

My good friend, Jelaire, wrote the music and lyrics to this song. It is too beautiful not to share, especially on a day like today.

"He's not waiting for us to be perfect. Perfect people don't need a Savior. He came to save us in our imperfections. He is the Lord of the living, and the living make mistakes. He's not embarrassed by us, angry at us, or shocked. He wants us in our brokenness, in our unhappiness, in our guilt and our grief." - Chieko Okazaki

For the rest of this quote and more background on the song and how it came about, go here. It's definitely worth your time.

Happy Easter!

Life changes and eating an elephant

2011-04-03T21:20:00.000-07:00

We spent all day Friday moving into our new home. Fortunately we had lots of strong and able men with big trucks who helped make it just a two-trip move, which was completed within three hours. We had a small group of women who helped me make everything sparkle at the old place, making it look pretty darn fantastic. We also had two doting grandparents who were happy to entertain the boys at their place for the day, so as to shield them a bit from as much of the chaos and confusion that can come with a big change like this.

By the end of our very long Friday and coming home to boxes stacked so high that it felt like we could have opened it up to the public as a cardboard maze and charged a small fee for entrance, I had come to the end of my frazzled rope and declared with more gusto than I knew was in me - "I hate our new place."

I didn't, really.

I was just exhausted. I was telling Marc later that I had never felt more tired than I did by the end of that day... except for maybe the day I labored to bring Hugh into the world. And, I felt even more exhausted just thinking about the task of unpacking everything, while still taking care of my little family. But, I think I was mostly overwhelmed with fears of how I would help my little boys adjust to their new environment when I felt so sapped of all energy and optimism myself.

I had to remind myself of the answer to that silly riddle - How do you eat an elephant?

I'm guessing you probably know the answer.

So, that was exactly what I did. I focused first on the most important priority - getting my boys settled safely and peacefully in their new (shared) bedroom for the night. Then, I tackled the boxes. One at a time. I couldn't look at the entire house filled with boxes. It just made me want to cry, if I did. I had to force myself to focus on the one box in front of me. One at a time.

And, before the end of the night on Friday our cardboard maze was completely unrecognizable and I was slowly seeing our home becoming more recognizable.

We went to bed much too late, which turned out to be a bad idea since Hugh ended up having a really rough night. He was up three times and ended up asleep on my chest twice when I got the feeling his lack of sleep had more to do with not feeling well than anything else. My intuition turned out to be correct when all day Saturday he was fighting a fever.

But, last night went so smoothly. Both boys went down for bed so easily - in bed by 6:30pm - AND they both slept through the night, though 5:30am will probably always feel just a bit too early for me.

Today I found myself thinking of all the things I like about our new home - the sound of the morning doves and other birds singing throughout the day, the park across the street where kids today were out playing baseball with their dads, the random cat wandering the very quiet neighborhood, the secluded feeling of living on the outskirts of town, the view from our kitchen of the hills. I really liked our other place and had felt quite sad about leaving it, until I realized what we were getting in its place.

(Our other place was smack-dab-in-the-middle of downtown, with the near-constant sound of traffic, sirens, airplanes, with the "drug-dealing" park down the street and the random transient wandering our neighborhood. Not to mention our neighbor's raging outdoor parties during the summer that commonly started at midnight and ended about four hours later. Definitely won't miss those.)

We're not completely settled in yet, but we're getting there. And, after a weekend of General Conference, I'm feeling encouraged and renewed. I'm anxious to go back and, in my studies, gather my own list of little personal prophetic epistles, as referred to by Elder Holland. Lots of gems that I want to hang on to and live by. Sometimes it can feel overwhelming to work on areas of weakness and inabilities, but I suppose personal improvements, just like settling from our move, require the same answer to that silly elephant riddle.

Taking just one day at a time. And, that's exactly what I'll do.

Benjamin's contagious laugh!

2011-03-28T09:20:00.000-07:00

Here are a couple of videos of Benjamin's contagious laugh. This was a couple of Sundays ago after having lunch with my parents. To keep Benjamin entertained, my Dad started playing with this tape measure and it totally got Ben laughing!

Below is the same video, but with the audio a little messed up. Something went wrong when we tried to compress the video file and what resulted was a really deep gut-like laugh from Benjamin. Marc thought it sounded like a character from the Goonies and I wondered if that's what his laugh will sound like in fifty years or so!

Either way, we just love his laugh! He brightens our world more than I could properly express! What a joyful fifteen months he has given us!!

Life with Boys

2011-03-25T19:53:00.000-07:00

I grew up with five brothers. I felt like I was somewhat prepared for life with boys. I just didn't realize how early some of their boyish instincts would kick in. Benjamin has been testing his climbing limits for a few months now, but he's clearly getting more and more confident (and risky).

And, then there's Hugh. He's always been a bit more cautious than Ben. But, he must be taking careful notes of everything Ben does. I had my back turned for just a few minutes and when I turned to check on my boys, I noticed that look on Hugh's face... like he was looking for trouble. Do you see it, too?

Oh, that mischievous grin!

I didn't happen to capture it on camera because I was panicking a little and had put the camera down... but, at one point Hugh was standing up and hanging onto the bookshelf, like Ben was doing. At ten months, mind you.

Heaven help me!

Oh, and by the way, the reason for the empty bookshelves and the cardboard boxes - we're moving! Just across town and into a larger home for our growing family. Wait, that isn't an announcement of any kind... just meaning that our family has doubled in size since we moved into our current place! (I really should be more careful how I say things around here.) We really like the place we're in right now, but we're also really excited about our new home. Lots of great things to look forward to.

Which, reminds me... anybody have any helpful advice or tips about how to make our move more smooth for our boys? I've been a little worried about how a change like this will affect Ben and Hugh. Oh, and our plan is to move them into the same bedroom with this move, now that they're both on the same sleep schedule. And, I'm not quite sure what to expect with a transition like that.

Any advice?

The powerful role of babies

2011-03-24T21:22:00.000-07:00

After writing my last post, I came across this news story in Japan about a baby being born just days after their terrible earthquake. While reading it, I remembered the following quote that I've always really liked:

About sixty years ago, F. M. Bareham wrote the following:

"A century ago (in 1809) men were following with bated breath the march of Napoleon and waiting with feverish impatience for news of the wars. And all the while in their homes babies were being born. Who could think about babies? Everybody was thinking about battles.

"In one year between Trafalgar and Waterloo there stole into the world a host of heroes: Gladstone was born in Liverpool; Tennyson at the Somersby Rectory; and Oliver Wendall Holmes in Massachusetts. Abraham Lincoln was born in Kentucky, and music was enriched by the advent of Felix Mendelssohn in Hamburg.

"But nobody thought of babies, everybody was thinking of battles. Yet which of the battles of 1809 mattered more than the babies of 1809? We fancy God can manage His world only with great battalions, when all the time He is doing it with beautiful babies."

To quote Spencer W. Kimball on this topic:

"When a wrong wants righting, or a truth wants preaching, or a continent wants discovering, God sends a baby into the world to do it. While most of the thousands of precious infants born every hour will never be known outside their neighborhoods, there are great souls being born who will rise above their surroundings.....one mother gives us a Shakespeare, another a Michelangelo, and other an Abraham Lincoln. When theologians are reeling and stumbling, when lips are pretending and hearts are wandering, and people are running to and fro, seeking the word of the Lord and cannot find it - when clouds of error need dissipating and spiritual darkness needs penetrating and heavens need opening, a little infant is born."

My little corner of the World

2011-03-21T07:39:00.000-07:00

My heart has felt heavy lately. Mostly, I think, because of all the pain and suffering around the world. From the injustice in Libya to the devastation in Japan to our friends down the street from us who are in the middle of fighting their own tiring battle. At night, we pray for them all as well as a whole list of others we know who are suffering in some way. It's just that lately as the list has gotten longer so has the burden of worry and sadness.

I feel so helpless. I can't go to Sendai and help the sweet Japanese people rebuild their city, though I wish I could. I can't go to Libya and dethrone Ghaddafi (in my mind I always want to say God-Awful). I can't find awesome jobs for those who've been unemployed for longer than imaginable. Sitting in my little corner of the world, I can't fix the troubles, I can't solve the problems, that so many are facing both near and far.

That helpless feeling can become so overwhelming.

***

The other day I had a moment when the helpless feeling turned to something more similar to hopeful. I was reminded that "man's extremity is God's opportunity," as expressed by Elder Holland in this talk.

As I sit in the comfort of my own home, feeling overwhelmed by all of the suffering going on in different corners of the world right now (feeling both guilty and grateful for my blessings), I remember that there is an omnipotent God who is also full of love and compassion. He loves and is keenly aware of all of His children in every far corner of the earth. I know that He has the power to make things right. And, somehow, He can even take the most awful of circumstances and turn them around.

(Not that that means I'm content to sit idly by, doing nothing... just that I can find comfort in doing what I can from where I'm at without feeling hopeless at my minuscule efforts.)

***

Fortunately the duties of motherhood have provided me with some distraction from getting too engrossed in the 10 o'clock news. As I turn my focus from news stories to my little boys - Benjamin and Hugh - I feel some worry about the world they'll grow up in and how to properly prepare them for that, but mostly I feel empowered by their innocence and purity.

I don't have control over the affairs of the world, but I do have some control over our little corner in this great big world. Their (Ben's and Hugh's) world, is one in which I do have some control. I can choose the environment they grow up in, I can create a haven of peace, I can influence them for good. I can be patient, I can keep my calm, I can teach kindness with my actions. Here we can have peace. Here we can find comfort and safety from life's storms.

While wars are raging and natural disasters are wreaking havoc, the reality is that here in my little corner of the world I still have dirty diapers to change and mouths to feed and owies to kiss and two little boys who need me.

And, thank goodness for that.

(And, we'll keep flooding heaven with our prayers... hoping they might help just a little.)

Ten months

2011-03-17T22:12:00.000-07:00

My baby is ten months old today. Where has the time gone? I was watching him today, the way he's cruising around the furniture at practically a running pace, squealing with excitement, and I just can't believe how fast he's growing.

Hugh is our little lion, growling more than babbling. Last month at his 9-month check up I had to fill out a questionnaire about his development and when I got to the questions about babbling, I really didn't know how to answer honestly. I love it, though, and feel a little sad that at some point it'll probably stop. I must get a decent video of his best growling.

This was a big week for Hugh. He figured out how to clap on his own. He started saying "oh" in a voice that reminds me of either Rocky Balboa or some mafioso. He's still doing his "humming" sound when he eats - especially when it's yogurt.

AND, his first tooth has finally poked through! I've been checking his ever smooth newborn-like gums for the last few weeks, for any signs of teeth coming in. Nothing. Then, the other day he was smiling is his scrunchy nose, open-mouth grin and I thought I saw something stuck to his upper gums. With a quick swipe of my finger, I realize it was a tooth! This whole time I had been looking on the bottom, not even considering that the top teeth might come in first. I was a little surprised by it since Ben got his bottom two in first.

Hugh doesn't miss a thing - who's coming, who's going, who's eating, who's talking, when it's time to eat, when it's time to sleep, when it's time to get up, when you've left the room... you get the idea.

And, here is one more video of him crawling over Ben's Buzz Lightyear car. I'm not really sure why, but even when there's a clear path for him to walk around it he'll still choose to crawl over it. I love how some of the controls on the car go off while he's stuck and trying to get over.

Hugh just adores Benjamin - when they see each other first thing in the morning of just after their naps, Hugh squeals and tries to squirm out of my arms. Oh, and when he gets really excited, he flexes his bum muscles... it cracks me up. Even just thinking about it now is making me laugh.

It's been a fun ten months. I'm still trying to wrap my head around his birth and all that came with his arrival, but mostly I just feel so grateful for such a happy outcome and such a happy boy. I'm so glad he's part of our family and we've been blessed with his sweetness and spunk.

When I see you smile

2011-03-10T21:42:00.000-08:00

(Note: I wrote most of this post yesterday about my day yesterday, but didn't quite have it finished before going to bed last night. Not that any of you care about a detail like that, except that today's weather was so much different than yesterday's, which would have drastically changed this entire post. Just so you know... and just in case any locals wonder how I got the sun to shine on me alone while the rain poured down on everyone else. Ha!)

I'm not really sure why, but this week has felt a little more overwhelming than usual. Just a lot on my mind, I guess. When this morning started off with a bit of a bang, I knew I needed to do something to find calm.

After the morning naps, I loaded my boys in the stroller and off we went. First stop: their favorite fountain. It's been a while since we've paid it a visit and I knew they'd be happy to see the water shooting up into the air, like it does. And, happy they were! I'll do anything to see smiles like that from them.

We paused for a few minutes, but then continued on our way. We ended up heading toward the cemetery. The promise that the twins' resting place would provide peace and perspective has continued to be the case and on a day like today I felt like it was exactly what I needed. Even just on our way there, I found my overwhelming thoughts to be pointless and insignificant.

It was the perfect day for a purging. The air was crisp, but the sun was warm. Blossoms were everywhere and the birds' songs accompanied us the entire way. At one point I looked down at my boys and saw that they were holding hands - not the usual ouch-you're-hurting-me hold. This time it was clearly more affectionate and gentle. It was so cute that I tried to get a picture with my phone, but as luck would have it I wasn't fast enough.

It was in that moment that I could almost feel the unimportant things on my mind flying away with the wind. There wasn't anything more important than the happiness of these two boys and as long as I was doing my best to provide that for them, everything else could take its proper place of priority.

Benjamin fell asleep before we reached the cemetery and as soon as we started back home, Hugh started looking up and back at me, as if to ask "are we there yet?" and did it about every two minutes, just like you would expect. When we finally returned home it was clear that satisfying hunger was the top priority. Marc helped by feeding the boys their appetizer of applesauce while I threw together the main course - french bread pizza.

And, right in the middle of making my boys their pizza lunch, a song came on the (internet) radio that was the perfect song for today.

Seriously, so true. When I see my little boys smile, I really do feel like I can do anything. Well, not anything... but anything that is important and necessary for their growth and well-being.

Here are just a few of their smiles from this week:

When I see you smile
I see a ray of light, oh oh,
I see it shining right through the rain
When I see you smile
Oh yeah, baby when I see you smile at me

Dancing King

2011-03-07T20:26:00.000-08:00

Our little Hugh is quickly becoming our little dancing king. Marc took two video clips of him and combined them and added some music. It should be fun to see how these moves evolve over the years!

In the original videos, there is no music playing. These are moves that come from somewhere deep within him!

Gadgets and Gizmos Aplenty

2011-03-05T21:42:00.000-08:00

We have finally solved the little glitch that was keeping me from accessing the photos on our camera. You have now been forewarned of photo overload in the next few days.

And, so, without further ado...

Marc loves his gadgets. Turns out that Ben and Hugh love his gadgets, too. Not too terribly surprising. When I asked Marc tonight what he was showing the boys in the photos below, he couldn't remember for sure but thought it might have been Bejeweled.

* I love how Hugh is resting his head on the couch in this one... like he's too tired to keep standing, but too engrossed to do anything else.

The other morning, Ben loved getting a taste of Daddy's music. They were listening to R.O.C.K. in the USA. When Marc tried to put the ear buds up to Hugh's ears, he kept jerking his head to the side, trying to figure out what he was trying to do. I'm sure he'll come around in time.

I love watching the interactions between Marc and our boys. I love thinking of all that he'll pass down to them, from computer games and music to a steady faith and a kind heart. And, hopefully his sense of humor and love of Nutella. They are so lucky to have him, as am I.

Just another {good} day

2011-03-03T20:18:00.000-08:00

The sun came out today and brought with it some warmth. It has been so rainy and cold. To celebrate the good weather, after Hugh's morning nap, we ventured outside for a nice, long walk. Of course, the process of getting out the door is no small task.

Hugh woke up at 10:22am. First I had to change into my running clothes, which had just finished their cycle in the drier. As I retrieved them, I decided I better take out the dry clothes and throw in the wet clothes that were waiting their turn in the washer, which I did with Hugh in one arm. Then, I changed Hugh's diaper and put his jacket on.

By now it was already 10:35am.

Put Ben's jacket on him and changed his diaper. I realized he had taken his socks off. I found one in his crib and could not, for the life of me, find the other one. I spent a good five minutes searching underneath and behind all the obvious places. I finally resorted to putting a completely different sock on him that I found in the process. That kid loves to take off his socks! Got his socks and shoes on him and watched the cutest smile stretch across his face as he seemed to recognize the connection between shoes and going outside.

Now: 10:50am.

Grabbed a few toys, crackers, water cups, and a banana. Got them buckled into the stroller and off we went. Only, before we got to the end of the driveway I realized the back left tire was totally flat. My little restless Benjamin decided to throw his toys off to the side, presumably in protest of this additional delay, while I wrestled to get the tire pump secured tightly enough to get the tire filled as quickly as possible.

Finally, we were off... at 11:06am.

Forty-four minutes. That's longer than it took us to walk the almost three miles (round-trip) to Grandma and Grandpa's. The boys had a fun little play break for 20 minutes before we came back home to have lunch. By the time we arrived back home, Benjamin had fallen asleep and ended up staying asleep for two hours. I put his lunch aside for later and the rest of us had a little picnic in Marc's office, with the sunshine pouring in through the windows behind us.

Just after lunch it was time for Hugh to go down for a nap, but he wasn't having it at all. He doesn't seem old enough to be ready to go from two naps to one just yet, but maybe he is. When I was just about to throw in the towel anyway, Benjamin woke up from his nap and was starving. I love how excited they both get to see each other after naps - Hugh does his little nasal-y squeal and Ben smiles like he's just won the lottery... or something like that.

And, in the afternoons when my parents come over to play they get the same reaction from both boys. Today we took the boys outside for a little extra sunshine, sharing some strawberries along the way. We explored a run-down tennis court closeby. Benjamin had his first encounter with a puddle. He stomped and got his shoes wet. Then, he bent down and was running his hands through the water.

Pretty soon he was squatting and really getting into it. In just a matter of minutes his pants were wet up to the knees. He was giggling and so were we. Even some guy out working on his car had stopped what he was doing, a huge smile on his face. It was right about then that Benjamin plopped himself down on his bum right in the middle of that puddle, which ended our puddle adventure and we headed back home. Hugh seemed entertained, but was content to stay in my arms through all of the excitement.

* This is just moments before plopping himself down

I wish I could have gotten a photo of Hugh's delight with his first strawberry taste or the excitement of splashing in the tub tonight. (Goal for tomorrow.) Instead, here are a few recent photos of Hugh sporting a new hat.

* I'll have to find Marc's baby photos - it seems like this one of Hugh looks just like him as a baby.

I love watching my boys experience new things - the taste of a strawberry, a puddle of water, splashing in the bathtub (Hugh just barely discovered splashing for the first time last night), pulling dishes out of the dishwasher (a daily favorite). There is a thrill and a joy that is totally contagious. I don't mind the mess. It's totally worth it when I get to feel their newfound joys along with them.

Today was just another day, which are arguably more wonderful than any days I've ever known.

Football or Leap Frog?

2011-02-28T21:21:00.000-08:00

Just some random photos I snapped of my boys. I just thought it was so cute how, in the brief moment I took the photo, they ended up being perfectly positioned for a game of football, or more preferably for this mama - leap frog. (Football doesn't scare me, but injuries while playing football does just a bit. If either of them choose that as a sport to pursue, I'll just need to learn to get over it, I guess.)

Doesn't it look like Ben's about to snap the (invisible) ball to Hugh? Hut, hut, hut. Hike!

Sometimes I just look at these two little bundles of joy and feel so completely overwhelmed that I've been blessed so much. I'll never know how I got so lucky.

A birthday, a baptism and double the brownies

2011-02-27T21:42:00.000-08:00

Highlights of this week (minus the photos because of some technical difficulties we're having):

Monday - My sister's birthday. Since she lives nearly a thousand miles away, we decided to celebrate by making ourselves a pan of Nutella Brownies. THE brownie of all brownies. I don't know if I'll ever eat regular brownies ever again. Happy Birthday, Dawnie!

Tuesday - Snuggled up all day and stayed away from the rainy weather outside. Hugh was hating life because of a terrible rash that just kept getting worse, no matter what I tried. Late that night I watched part of Mansfield Park with my man. I just love Jane Austen.

Wednesday - After putting the boys to bed, Marc had some meetings and I had the house to myself. All day I dreamt up different ways I could spend that precious alone time. I ended up cleaning, like the kind where you get groovin' and movin' and can't stop. Not even close to what I had in mind, but it felt good to have everything so clean. My whole perspective of housework has totally transformed after a discussion I was part of last Sunday... a post of its own for another day, I suppose.

Thursday - This should be a post of its own, too... Hugh had his 9 month appointment. He's now 30 inches (he's grown nine inches in nine months!) and weighs 20 pounds 10 ounces (that's 12 pounds in nine months). He's in the 90th percentile for height, 25th percentile for weight, and 95th percentile for his head size (47 inches). Made the most delicious enchiladas, with extra for leftovers on Friday.

Friday - It snowed! Yes, real, falling snow in our little valley. To celebrate, we took a family photo toward the end of one of the flurries. My friend, Kelly, came to visit with her youngest two, which the boys totally loved - and, I did, too! Also, I made Nutella Brownies. Again. (This time for a baptism... but, I still put some aside for us for later. Oh, I'm so bad!)

Saturday - Hugh decided not to go down for his morning nap. Watched BYU work their magic against San Diego. Hugh decided he didn't want to sleep in the afternoon either. Well, he actually woke up because of some noisy neighbors and I was unable to coax him back into dreamland. Got some super happy news from a friend, while chatting over a cup of hot cocoa together. Also, it was a big day for our dear Tracey, sending her lots of love and happy thoughts. fFinished watching Mansfield Park. It was just alright. I'm not sure if anything could beat Pride and Prejudice.

Sunday - Ben fell asleep in my arms during the second hymn at church - I Stand All Amazed. Just before that sweet moment, he was on the verge of becoming a little mini-hulk, it seemed. Once his body was completely limp, I laid him down on the comfy pew, using my sweater as a pillow/ear muffs (to keep the noise to a minimum), and thought back to my own childhood memories of waking up in similar situations in that same chapel on practically the same pew. Took a bunch of photos of the boys playing in their white Sunday shirts and khakis, with the afternoon sun shining on us (wishing I could access the photos on my camera to share with you... soon, soon, I promise!).

Another fantastic week come and gone. Another week is here to enjoy! The big question - how many times will I make Nutella brownies this week?

Home Videos

2011-02-17T21:19:00.000-08:00

Here are some fun videos of the boys! The first one is Benjamin chasing Audrey around grandpa, giggling and screaming (respectively). The second is of Hugh laughing at grandma's growl (usually is you growl at him, he'll growl back, but in this clip he was mostly just laughing, which was still super cute). And, the third one is of Benjamin falling asleep right in the middle of lunch for the first time (which is a big deal because that boy usually fights sleep like nobody's business).

Backtracking - Benjamin's birthday

2011-02-16T21:39:00.000-08:00

Back in Decemeber when I posted about Benjamin's first birthday, I meant to come back later and add photos, but then the battery died and I couldn't retrieve the photos. So, even though it's almost two months later, here are the photos.

I made a snake cake. I got the idea from my friend Becky, who makes the most amazing cakes. After looking through photos of some of her cakes, I chose this one that seemed simple enough for a non-cake maker, like myself, and one that wouldn't be too hard to not mess up. Still, my snake didn't turn out nearly as awesome as hers. BUT, I was pretty happy at my attempt to something more than a 9x13.

If you recall, Benjamin wasn't into eating the cake. Instead, he grabbed fist-fulls and squished the cake through his fingers. But, he was loving the ice cream - definitely a Mama's boy!

One of his favorite toys of the day - the air ball popper. His birth mother, Tracey, and his birth grandmother gave it to him. Ben and Hugh both get excited when we turn it on and play with it. They love it!

I loved capturing these moments between Benjamin and Tracey. Even though he's only a year old, I get the feeling that deep within him there is an understanding of who Tracey is and how he came to us. I'm so grateful for our open adoption, for the relationship we have with Tracey. I know there must be some bitter-sweet feelings that come with participating in big events like this with us. She continues to amaze me with her ability to continue to put her love for Benjamin ahead of her own conflicting emotions. Benjamin will never doubt how much he is loved by his birth family.

Our week of fun

2011-02-13T21:49:00.000-08:00

The week with my sister in town went way too fast, just like I expected. Since we had to schedule our days around naps for our four little ones, we had to make the most of little sections of time in between.

Our days started off with Mandi and her two coming over (from my parents') for breakfast together with my two. After enjoying pancakes (on most mornings), there was always some time for playing on the floor for the four cousins before it was time for morning naps for my two. Mandi and her kids would head back to my parents, only to return after a couple of hours once my two were awake.

We'd have lunch, followed by a trip to the park or to the lake or a walk around the neighborhood. Then, we'd separate again for afternoon naps for all four kids, meeting up for another hour or so after the afternoon naps, before starting the nighttime routine of baths and books and prayers and good-night snuggles. As soon as I'd get my two down and settled for the night (a bit earlier than her kids' schedule), I'd then spend a couple of hours over at my parents' with Mandi and her kids. There was a lot of running back and forth, but it was worth it to maximize our time together.

Not only was it wonderful to spend time with my sister, I loved watching our kids connecting. We've always assumed that Lucas and Ben and Hugh would become fast friends, since the three of them are so close in age. The biggest surprise was how much Ben adored Audrey. I had assumed that the 2-year age gap (plus the fact that she's a girl) would somehow get in the way. Audrey would try to get Ben's attention and then run from him, which made him run after her giggling all the way, which then made her scream, which made Ben laugh even harder. It was super cute the way they all interacted with each other. (I did get some really great videos that I'll try to upload this week.)

It's been way too quiet around here. I wish there wasn't so much distance between us, but I'm so grateful for visits that happen much more frequently than could be expected. Luckily Mandi is much braver to make the long trip with two kids than I am... yet. One of these days I'll figure out how to do the same with the same level of competence and patience as her. Maybe.

Here's just a glimpse of our week together:

* The three boys - Hugh, Ben, Luke

* I think Hugh enjoys the swings more than it appears. Can't be sure, though.

* And, I don't know if one can enjoy swinging more than Luke.

* Ben and Audrey, flying high

* Feeding the ducks at the Lake, a big hit!

Our week together was fantastic! Perfect weather, fun activities, good company, and memories to live off of until the next time. Mandi, Audrey and Lucas - thanks for coming to see us!!

Oh, those eyes!

2011-02-12T21:52:00.000-08:00

Our three visitors left this morning - so early that the sun hadn't yet made its appearance. I did my best to stay busy today, so as to not be as aware of the lack of their presence. It didn't really work, though. It was such a fun week that having it end with a good-bye was a little bit of a downer. Luckily, our outing to the lake to feed the ducks helped brighten the day some.

Fortunately we got our camera working again this week (after having a dead battery for more than a month) and I had so much fun going through the photos - from the last four months. I don't have the time tonight to share some of the highlights of Mandi's visit, so that'll have to wait... but, I did want to leave with two photos of my boys that I came across tonight.

* Ben with his striking blue eyes, playing with the blinds

* Hugh and those delicious chocolatey brown eyes

Couldn't you just eat them up?

Surprise visit

2011-02-06T21:42:00.000-08:00

All day Friday we anticipated my parents' return from there little jaunt two states away, to visit some of my siblings over the last couple of weeks. Finally at about 5:15pm, just as Ben was helping me clean up his toys so we could get started on our bath-/bed-time routine, we heard a knock on our door.

It wasn't my parents' usual knock, though. It was a softer knock. Marc looked at me curiously and asked who it could be. I wasn't expecting anyone (other than my parents). He answered the door and in walked this little girl:

That's my niece, Audrey. (That's her at her home, two states away, where it's very cold and snowy right now. There's no need for her umbrella here, or the sweater for that matter, in our 76 degree weather.) Following her through our front door was her brother, Lucas:

Unbeknownst to me, my sister made some very secretive plans to make the 13+ hour drive with my parents (and her two little ones) to spend a surprise week with us.

(I got all of these photos off my sister's blog, since I haven't gotten any photos of them since they arrived. Maybe tomorrow I'll finally remember to charge our camera battery, so it's working again.)

I was so stunned. I think the first words out of my mouth were something along the lines, "Nuh-uh!" I had just talked to Mandi on the phone less than two hours before, wanting to know what time my parents had left her house that morning, so I could get an idea of when they might be getting into town.

She was so, as the Italians say, furbo. (Which basically means sly, but it describes how she was better than just saying she was sly.) For the last couple of weeks, she's known about her plans to come and never gave any hint that she was coming, even during our phone call, just moments before they arrived.

It has been a fun weekend. I mean, how could it not? Pancake breakfast, cousins getting (re)acquainted, an afternoon playing on the swings and the slides at the park, the three boys (each five months apart) playing with the ball air popper toy, a crazy day at church (four adults with four little ones - I'm sure we provided some good entertainment), a delicious steak dinner with these amazing potatoes that my sister made (I have to get the recipe!), more playing on the floor with the kids, hide 'n seek, and good-night kisses.

The good news: they're here ALL week!

The bad news: time flies when you're having fun. Saturday is going to come much too soon.

Some thoughts

2011-01-30T21:23:00.000-08:00

My mind is weighed down with thoughts. All evening I've been trying to sort through them, hoping to figure out where the bulk of the weight lies.

1 - There were the thoughts about BYU basketball. I can't help it. I bleed blue and always will. I love being excited about my Alma Mater doing amazing things, even when it's just with athletics. (These were clearly not the heavy thoughts.)

2 - Then, I found the thoughts about how I feel about this recent article that seems to be getting all kinds of attention. My response would be something along the lines of, "hmmm, that's an interesting perspective" and "I wonder if people read my blog and think I sugar-coat everything to make my life look more perfect than it really is" and "I don't really care what anyone thinks of what I write or how it comes across, I write for me and from a place in my heart that yearns to be expressed in a certain way" and "I think it's great that we each can express ourselves in our own way, and however we express ourselves we can choose what and how much of a glimpse we allow others to see" and "I think that's a beautiful thing" and "blah blah blah blah blah..."

3 - There were thoughts about a new friend who is just starting the adoption process. I think back to 2006 when we were in that spot and how uncertain and vulnerable it felt to be there. We've come so far. Things have turned out far better than I ever would have imagined. But, I can still feel the fear and doubt that once tried to rule my heart. While I'm glad we aren't there anymore, my heart goes out to those who are in that place - hoping that everything turns out better than they could have ever imagined, too.

4 - I found the heaviest of thoughts to be for my boys. Our days are so packed, even with just the basics of naps and feedings and cleaning up messes, that I often find myself at the end of the day wondering where the time in the day went to just sit and snuggle with them, or to quietly explore the world with them, or to spend some real quality time with them. And, with two that need my love and attention I feel a bit overwhelmed with making sure they're both getting the nurturing that they need. Not that giving them that attention is overwhelming, but I get overwhelmed with worry that what I'm giving isn't enough. I wish I knew how to schedule in more of these quality moments when the nurturing level is at its highest. I think it must be possible, I just need to get better at making more time for more of those moments.

5 - Some thoughts have been too far in the future for them to be of any benefit to anyone right now. Worried thoughts about raising my boys to be good and honest and kind and confident and humble and good at playing soccer and gentle and grateful and so many other things. I can't stand to read stories or hear about troubles that kids have these days. There is so much hurt and confusion and it all just makes me want to move to a small villa in the countryside of Tuscany where I could raise my little family, perhaps a bit shielded from some of life's unnecessary pains (although, that begs the question - are there pains that are necessary? and, are there pains that are unnecessary? that might make a good post for another day.) Doesn't life in Italy just seem a bit simpler and happier? Maybe it's just me.

6 - Elliana and Emmaline have been in my thoughts a lot more recently. After my cousin lost her little girl suddenly and unexpectedly (almost two months ago), it triggered a lot of emotions. Some sadness. Some longing. Some heartache. But, mostly gratitude. And love. Even though losing them was the hardest thing I've yet had to endure, it has been such a powerful change for good in my life. Visits to their gravesite continue to remind us what is really important in life and recommit us to enjoying every moment we have together.

There. That feels better. Now that my thoughts have found their place and priority, I plan on having a better-than-average night of sleep. I love knowing the morning will come with new opportunities.

Update on the boys

2011-01-26T21:10:00.000-08:00

* Ben and Hugh playing today

We're still here, hanging out at home, trying to recover from this latest bug. Ugh. I can't believe after ten days we're still sick. Wellness has to be around the corner soon.

During our quiet afternoon today, I decided to take a few photos, since it's probably been way too long. I'm stunned at how fast they are both growing. I'm constantly getting the "enjoy every moment because it goes way too fast" talk, but while enjoying it it's still going way too fast.

Ben, now 13 months old, seems more and more like a little boy rather than my baby. He's becoming so independent - when he plays, when he eats, when he sleeps. At his doctor appointment yesterday (for his one year visit - one month late), Ben is now weighing 22 pounds (30th percentile) and is 31 inches tall (80 percentile).

When the song "If you're happy and you know it" comes on, he claps his hands without any encouragement from us. He gives kisses, but only if you're standing under some wind chimes that are ringing (random, right?) or every once in a while when I sing "You are my sunshine" as I pull him out of his crib in the morning.

* doesn't he look much too small to be standing???

Hugh, it seems, is feeling the pressure to keep up with his big brother. He just refuses to slow down. A month and a half ago (at his last appointment, which was a week before his 7th month birthday), Hugh weighed 18 pounds 14 ounces (60th percentile) and was 27 3/4 inches long (80th percentile).

About a month ago I went to feed him in the middle of the night and found him standing up, screaming. During the day we'd seen him trying to stand up, but he couldn't quite do it on his own. Somewhere in the wee hours of the morning, he figured it out without an audience! It is too cute for words watching this baby, my baby, standing up on his own. The funny thing? He hasn't figured out how to go from standing to not standing... for now he either falls over without any grace or he cries until someone rescues him. But, while he has spent so much time just standing, he has started to cruise a little, too.

Oh, and good news in the food department. I started being more consistent and creative in trying different tastes and textures. The result? Hugh is eating so much better now! It's been amazing. His main staple is avocado, but he also likes squash and bananas. But, avocados are clearly his favorite... you can tell by the low satisfied moaning he makes while he squishes it around his mouth. It's really cute!

As these two get older, they're starting to interact more. Right now that mostly consists of Hugh smiling at Ben in complete and utter adoration and Ben patting Hugh on the head with his hand (or whatever happens to be in his hand at the moment), which I'm sure doesn't translate to love on many occasions to Hugh. We're trying to teach Ben to be gentle, but he hasn't quite picked it up yet.

Life is so good. Even though we've been sick for ten days. These two boys, and of course my Marc, make my life so bright and happy. I feel so blessed.

Round Two

2011-01-21T20:16:00.000-08:00

* Taken this morning while watching Elmo

Well, we had about a week break after recovering from the flu when we were hit with something different but equally as horrible. It started off as a simple cold - slight cough and runny nose - but quickly turned into serious congestion, sore throat, body aches, vomiting, and fever. It was so bad that I'm pretty sure we wouldn't have survived this week without the extra help from my parents.

And, of course, it hit us during a week when we've had fantastic weather with temperatures in the 70s. We've been so sick that even the shining sun wasn't alluring enough to get us outside. But, I think we are finally on the mend. And, I'm hoping that we'll be able to enjoy our health for a little bit longer than a week before dealing with round three. In fact, I'd be elated if we're done with flu season until next year!

The good news is that the forecast shows at least another week of 70s, which we'll hopefully be able to enjoy a little next week. It'll be nice to feel like a normal human being again. And, I'm mostly looking forward to having my boys back - when they're sick it's like life is just sucked right out of them and watching them in that state is too much for my heart to bear.

I find it amazing how much more you appreciate your health after being sick. If nothing else, this round two of sickness has helped me feel more aware and grateful for simple things of life, like being healthy, playing on the floor with my boys, and tasting food again.

Health

2011-01-09T21:32:00.000-08:00

Besides a slight cough here and there, health has been restored in our home! Our first case of the flu was awful and worrisome and at times had me freaked out with scenarios of one or more of us not surviving. My fears can get a bit out of control when life's circumstances feel like they're out of my control. If you had witnessed the way this flu bug attacked my little Hugh, I think you'd understand my worries and fears. Watching him suffer was far more awful than having the flu myself.

I know some of my worst fears stem from our losses and recognizing that life sometimes has unexpected (and unwanted) outcomes . I simultaneously feel gratitude and fear at the reminder that life is fragile. While I appreciate the renewed reminder to live life to the fullest, I would rather not live in fear of experiencing some traumatic loss. I'm just relieved that we're all feeling better now.

On a slighty different note, I thought I'd see if any of you have had any experience with a baby being a little slower with starting solids. Hugh is almost eight months and still is mainly just breastfed. At six months I tried a few different foods - oatmeal, bananas, avocado, yams, squash. In the beginning he had a really strong gag reflex. So, I waited a couple of weeks and then tried again. Then, once he was getting more down, within an hour or so he was spitting it up.

I'm assuming he has a sensitive stomach, since cutting dairy out of my diet drastically helped him. While I'm not overly concerned about it since he's still gaining weight and is in the 80% percentile for weight (or was before the flu, anyway), I would like to get him eating more. I try to give him a little something solid everyday and he seems to be doing better, but just doesn't eat much and doesn't seem to enjoy it.

Ben was the total opposite, so I've just been at a loss of how to handle this situation. I feed both boys normal food that I make and prepare myself, rather than baby canned food, and would prefer to keep it that way, unless there is some aspect of the canned food that might help. Do any of you have any advice with foods to try or how to get him to eat more?

What I've learned from the flu

2011-01-01T21:40:00.000-08:00

I used to think that the very worst part of sick kids was the idea of cleaning up all the messes - vomit, diarrhea, and whatever other nasty bodily fluids you can imagine. Now that we've faced the last five days of exactly that, I've learned there is something far worse than the messes.

For us, it all started Monday night. I went into the birthday boy's room to check on him, after he'd been asleep for a couple of hours and before heading to bed myself, like I always do. I was shocked to find my sleeping baby with his head right next to a pile of vomit. Ben hadn't even cried and we hadn't heard a thing. I gently lifted him out of his crib and carried him to the bathroom so that I could assess the situation. He was surprisingly mostly clean, with just a bit of vomit - in his hair and on his pjs. As I was starting to undress him to get him in the bathtub, Ben threw up again - into the bathroom sink. He had the most confused, helpless, sad look on his face. My heart broke.

While Marc bathed him, I cleaned up the mess in the crib and changed the bedding. We comforted him and soon he was settled and asleep again. Luckily that was his only episode with throwing up, but the diarrhea has been a bit worse. Overall, though, at this point Ben has mostly recovered from this little bout with the flu.

Hugh is a different story. The night after Ben had thrown up, I woke up in the wee hours of the morning to Hugh and what sounded like dry heaves. As soon as I pulled him out of his crib, he immediately cuddled against my shoulder, which is totally uncharacteristic of him. (Usually he's trying to squirm his way to the nearest source of food.) He ended up throwing up twice before the sun came up on Wednesday morning. It was pretty bad the first couple of days - vomiting, diarrhea, slight fever. I was doing laundry, it seemed, every couple of hours.

Then, just when Hugh was starting to seem like he was on the mend, things got worse. Today was day four, and by far the worst. He was hardly able to keep anything down all day. And, while I know he must be feeling completely miserable, he has still managed to have his super duper cute moments of cooing and crawling and smiling with his nose all scrunched up. He is such a trooper, that little guy. He's sleeping peacefully at the moment, but I'm prepared for a long night and an unpredictable day tomorrow.

Over the last few days, after watching both my babies suffering through their first case of the flu, my heart has hurt and I'm pretty sure my forehead has some new permanent worry lines. Today was especially hard. Four days (and counting) is much too long for a baby to be sick like this, and much too long for my heart to handle. I hate seeing him so uncomfortable and at moments feeling like life has been sucked right out of him. I'm glad, at least, that those lifeless moments have been brief and fleeting.

That's been the biggest surprise with dealing with the flu - handling the emotional stress of watching my babies suffer. The messes have been a cinch to clean up. I haven't even gagged once, to my surprise. But, my heart, oh my heart, has just about broken at least two dozen times this week. I've been unable to lay Hugh down the last two nights without crying. I just want him to be better.

And, in the back of my mind, through all of this, I find myself amazed at what moments like these teach me about the same heartbroken feelings that are experienced by a perfect Father in heaven as He watches us hurting and in pain. If my feelings are this intense and at times nearly unbearable, His feelings of love and concern for us must be at least a million times greater.

I'm comforted with the knowledge that He is watching over me in my moments of greatest need, even this moment right now as I go to watch over my littlest one for the night.

One

2010-12-27T21:56:00.000-08:00

My baby boy is one year old. I can't believe how fast this year has gone by. I remember getting the phone call in the middle of the night - it was Tracey letting us know that little Benjamin had arrived, two weeks early. I made phone calls myself once morning had come and couldn't hold back the tears of joy and gratitude.

Ben's big day was a fun one. He was a bit overwhelmed by all the people who came to celebrate with us - Grandma & Grandpa, Aunt Dawnie, Uncle John, six cousins, his birth mother and birth grandmother.

I made him a snake cake that he really enjoyed squeezing through his fingers but refused to eat. Just like his Mama, he preferred to have ice cream instead. (Pictures to come later.)

He received some pretty cool presents that made his eyes light up and kept him busy for the rest of the day - a Toy Story push & ride car, a busy ball popper (the non-pink version, though), a toy with musical buttons that light up, a Barney movie, a book, and an adventure play tent and tunnel tube. His toy selection has double in the last two days.

Some things that make up Benjamin's personality -

- he's a brave little soul (aka: a bit of a daredevil) - climbing on things, pulling himself out of things

- he uses his pacifier as a chew toy

- he's already kicking balls, like a little soccer player in training

- he would much rather be running around than sitting still

- he's very affectionate when you sing to him (or, lately, if you ring these particular wind chimes at my parents' house) and has started giving kisses

- he's very observant and often tries to figure out how things work

- he'll notice his shadow on the floor and do a little dance with it, trying to catch it

- he's becoming very independent

To say that Benjamin is a joy wouldn't even come close to describing how we feel about having him in our family. He adds light and love to our life. I can't even remember what life was like without him. We feel so blessed and humbled to be the ones chosen to raise him. I feel like I can finally rest easy, knowing we have found our boy that was trying to make it to our family. We love him so much.

Christmas Eve

2010-12-24T20:26:00.000-08:00

It's Christmas Eve. Ben and Hugh are tucked in for the night. Marc is wrapping some last minute gifts. I'm trying to stay away from the pies until my stomach has recovered from our Christmas Eve dinner of the most delicious Maple-glazed ham. It has been a wonderful day, going back and forth from my parents' house to ours, trying to stick closely to our nap time routines but still be a part of the fun traditions and activities.

One of the highlights was acting out the story of the birth of Jesus, with my dad narrating from Luke 2 and other verses of scripture. It should be fun to go back and watch the recording we got of it. Since Hugh is the youngest member of the family here, he played the part of baby Jesus, which meant that Marc and I were Joseph and Mary. Ben was the lone lamb who was more interested in wandering than sitting calmly in our imaginary manger. Then we had three shephards - mom, Malachi and McKayla. The three wise men - John, JB, and Denison. And two angels - Dawnette and Talea, who had the cutest lines to repeat. (We had a sick Truman laying down in the other room, who wasn't able to play his part.)

Later, as I was feeding Hugh just before putting him down for the night I thought back to his birth and reflected on many of the feelings that came with his arrival - the fear, the panic, then the relief. I still find myself thanking God for his life that was preserved. I was so honored today to finally get the part in the nativity story that I've always coveted.

I thought of Tracey, who just a year ago was so close to bringing Benjamin into the world. What was it like to be in her shoes? What would it be like to carry a child for nine months and then place him in the arms of another mother? How does it feel to make a sacrifice like that, even if you know it's the right choice for you and your baby?

I don't know how Tracey did what she did. She gave us the greatest gift. Our little Benjamin. I'll never fully understand what it takes to make that kind of selfless choice, but I'll spend the rest of my life making sure Benjamin knows the unconditional love it takes to do what she did.

Then, I thought of Mary, the mother of the Son of God. As I looked down on my little Hugh, so peacefully cuddled against my chest, I wondered what feelings she might have had as she welcomed her son into the world. Was she overwhelmed with feelings of inadequacy? Was she afraid of the sacrifices that would be required of her and/or her son? Did she wonder if she'd fulfill her responsibilities well enough to raise her son in the right way?

I don't know how Mary accomplished what she did to raise and nurture the baby boy who would become the Savior of the world. I can't imagine the burden that she must have felt at times, fully aware of her own inadequacies and weaknesses.

I feel so indebted tonight to some great mothers, my own included, who have fulfilled roles and accomplished great things that have directly blessed my life. I feel a bit overwhelmed at my own responsibilities to be the kind of mother that my boys need me to be. I'm grateful, at least, to have so many good examples to follow after.

It is really a wonderful time of year. A time of reflection. A time of gratitude for blessings. A time of renewed determination to be a bit better. A time to spend with family, making memories and strengthening bonds.

Speaking of, I should go and do just that. Marc is snuggled comfortably on the couch, saving a spot just for me.

Merry Christmas! I sincerely hope this season is one filled with love and hope for good things to come for all of you.

Grocery store drama

2010-12-23T22:31:00.000-08:00

After the morning nap yesterday, I loaded Ben and Hugh into their double stroller and the three of us headed around the corner and down the street to the grocery store. I had a short list of items I needed to make a few pies and our Christmas ham. I purposely planned our shopping trip just before the noon rush would hit so that we would be in and out in no time.

Since these quick shopping trips are a common outing the three of us do together, I was confident that the boys would do just fine, like they always do. I was prepared with toys and blankets and crackers. Not two minutes down the first isle and Hugh was screaming, which then made Ben start crying very large tears, which then made Hugh cry harder, which then made Ben more upset - you get the picture. Usually Ben isn't bothered by Hugh when he cries, but for some reason they were feeding off of each other in a new way that I wasn't prepared for.

My attempts to calm them down weren't working. Nothing was working. I was about to abandon my little hand-held basket and make a beeline straight for home. But, I was determined to just get the few items I needed. So I pulled Hugh out and carried him in my right arm, balancing the basket on the stroller head cover thingy, and pushed the stroller with my left hand. I was totally okay with the arrangements because both boys immediately calmed right down... and that was all that mattered.

I got some interesting looks, a couple of double takes, and at least a dozen shoppers who muttered something along the lines of - you sure have your hands full. I was so focused on getting myself out of there that I didn't pay much attention to any of it. As I put the last item in my basket, I also buckled Hugh back into the stroller and headed for the check-out.

Everything was going just fine until I was waiting for my groceries to be bagged. Something set the boys off again and both were crying so loud I wasn't able to concentrate on anything except getting out of there. I started to leave as soon as I had the groceries loaded in the stroller, when the cashier lady stopped me. The transaction hadn't gone through yet because I forgot to push the "No" button for cash back. As the boys continued to scream, people in every direction were staring. I let out a bit of nervous laughter and avoided making eye contact with anyone.

Somehow over the screaming I overheard the woman behind me in line comment to the cashier - "that doesn't sound fun at all." The cashier handed me my receipt and out the door we went. Two steps out the door and both boys were suddenly calm again. I'm sure the fresh air helped, as well as the movement.

I laughed to myself the whole way home and filled Marc in on our adventure as soon as we got home. Our quick trips to the store have never turned out like that, so it came totally unexpectedly. I honestly wasn't bothered by the looks or the comments... it really must have been quite the sight.

But I did find myself wishing people could see a true picture of these boys in a 24-hour period, rather than a brief ten minutes of uncharacteristic fussiness. Our days are filled with Ben's happy squeals while he scurries around his floor of toys, and Hugh's grunt-like giggle when he's being tickled. While I agree it isn't fun to have them both screaming at the same time, I'm just relieved that it very rarely happens.

But, even if it did, I would still take these two boys at their very worst over those lonely days with empty arms. I've been remembering past Christmas events that pierced my heart with pain and sadness, and feeling overwhelmed with gratitude this year for our two greatest blessings.

Marc is feeling it, too. The other night as I was wrapping presents and Marc was filling out the gift tags, I handed Marc Ben's first gift and said "this one goes to Ben, from Mom and Dad." He couldn't seem to resist asking me to repeat it one more time.

We feel so blessed and so grateful for our happy, healthy, and screaming boys.

But, I think I might just go grocery shopping alone from now on.

Sleep and Bells

2010-12-11T20:57:00.000-08:00

Have I mentioned how much better Ben and Hugh are sleeping these days? I read the book - Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child - and was totally skeptical. I was convinced that the examples in the book of babies that improved their sleep habits were just naturally good sleepers. Mine clearly were not and never would be.

We were desperate, though. So, we decided to give it a try and to stay the course for at least a week before giving up. Little did we know that we'd see dramatic improvements within just a couple of days. It definitely took some determination on our part to be consistent and some will power to stay focused on the ultimate goal of helping them to sleep better.

We now put them down to bed by 6pm. Ben is now sleeping in his crib, through the night, for 12 hours. Hugh still wakes usually just once during the night for a feeding, but he's getting 11-12 hours of sleep at night, too. And, maybe the biggest change is that now we're able to just lay them down and have them go right to sleep without rocking them to sleep. That would sometimes take hours to do and was just wearing us both out. It has been really amazing to see the changes. I was so sure that we just had bad sleepers. Turns out we were doing things wrong, without even knowing it. It's such a relief to have our sleep back!

That said, Hugh woke up at 3am this morning and after his feeding just wouldn't go back to sleep. He'd had a bit of a fever last night, so I'm sure that's what was bothering him. After the morning nap, Hugh was still fussing and Ben was screaming, so I took the boys out on a walk. The sun was shining today and the temperature was in the 60s. Plus it's been a while since we've been up to their favorite fountain.

After our quick stop at the fountain we walked down to the post office to mail a couple of things. On our way the bell tower of one of the churches near downtown rang, signally noontime. I love the sound of church bells ringing. It feels so quaint, so old, and reminds me so much of my fond memories of Italy. And, after the twelve dongs of the bell, it played a Christmas song that at the time I couldn't quite put my finger on its name. (I later discovered it was God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.)

There was something about the feel in the air, the leaves chasing down the sidewalk, Christmas bells ringing through the streets, being with my two little boys who were happily enjoying our little outing. Everything about the moment made my heart feel light. This is the feeling I'd been wanting to feel. The calm, the joy. It came in the most unexpected of ways, in a completely unexpected moment.

On a day that started much too early with a baby who was too miserable for words, I felt especially grateful for this little moment. We'll have to follow our same route and schedule in the coming days to find out if the church bells ring out a Christmas carol every day at noon or if there was something special about today. I wouldn't mind hearing those bells again and again and again.

'Tis the season...

2010-12-08T21:43:00.000-08:00

The Christmas season this year has brought with it a new magic and excitement. It's a new feeling - something I've never quite felt, not like this. At the same time I've also been feeling a bit weighed down, though I've had a hard time pin-pointing exactly why.

The other day I was reminded of some thoughts about Christmas I shared two years ago, just after we lost our girls. As I read it again, I realized that I still feel the same struggle. The struggle to celebrate the season for all the right reasons without getting caught up in the tangle of commercialism. It is difficult to find the right balance.

We've tried to create traditions that will keep us centered, but every year there comes the stress and frantic rush of making everything just perfect - the gifts, the decorations, the meals, the activities and celebrations. And, while all of those things are great they still seem to distract from the calm that I really want to be feeling. I don't know how to do all the fun traditional things without getting completely sucked into the chaos. Plus, with how packed my days are there is no way I'll ever find the time to do all I need to do.

*Heavy sigh*

So on that less than cheery note (ha!), here's a cute song that I'm listening to these days whenever I get too overwhelmed:

By the way, if you go here, you can download the song for free!

Our expressive Hugh

2010-12-07T21:38:00.000-08:00

For some time I've been meaning to show the many expressions of Hugh. Since the day he was born, it has been a marked trait. When I'm taking photos of him, in a matter of seconds he can go through at least a dozen completely different expressions. Here are just a few, not all taken on the same day, though.

The spaced-out look:

The happy look:

The EXTRA happy look (always consists of a scrunched up nose, an open mouth, and partial tongue):

The playful look:

The serious look:

The talkative look (this is usually his expression when he gets really verbal):

And, here are a few of Benjamin, too, just for fun:

This is actually one of Ben's most consistent expressions - just content and even-tempered...

... and a little goofy!

Looking like Christmas

2010-12-04T21:21:00.000-08:00

I think this is the first moment today when I've sat down to relax all day. It's just been one of those very busy Saturdays. Even though it was busy, it feels good to have accomplished a lot of things I was hoping to get done.

We had some free time this afternoon when both boys decided to just take a 20-minute nap. Rather than trying to force them back to sleep for longer naps, we opened the curtains and blinds and dug out our Christmas decorations. We got the tree up. (Which also involved clearing a particular space that has been collecting clutter for some time now and getting more and more on my nerves.) It feels so warm and comforting to have the Christmas lights glowing. The excitement and curiosity reflected in the eyes of our boys seemed to be extremely contagious and I enjoyed the process even more than usual.

The weather has been on the gloomy side for most of the last week, and the forecast predicts more of the same. Amid the clouds and the threat of rain, we bundled up and headed out to the cemetery. When we purchased the plot, it was actually a third of a plot with the other two sections being reserved for other babies. It was a little unexpected to see today that one of the other sections has now been claimed. I couldn't help but wonder about the story of little Oleta, while sending a quiet prayer heavenward for her family still mourning their separation.

I'm still not really sure how we'll tell Ben and Hugh about Elliana and Emmaline. I don't know what we'll tell them or how we'll celebrate or remember them as a family. Marc and I were talking the other night about how we'll talk about Santa Claus with our kids. Maybe talking about the twins will just come naturally like any other special person or holiday that we celebrate with special traditions. We still have a couple of years to figure it all out, I guess.

I have a feeling this is going to be one of our more memorable holiday seasons and I'm looking forward to every aspect of it.

December 2nd

2010-12-02T20:58:00.000-08:00

For a week I've been meaning to visit the cemetery. We have the Christmas poinsettias to put in the vase at the girls' graveside. I planned on going on Thanksgiving day, but the day was packed with activity and there was no time. Every day since then has seemed to be equally packed with things - just the daily things that take up nearly every spare minute of the day.

But, today I really wanted to go. While I was getting Hugh settled for his morning nap, I had a perfect plan of how my day would go so that I could squeeze in a little time at the cemetery. Almost immediately my plans went completely different than how I hoped.

Hugh never did really go down for his morning nap (though I gave him an hour to try) and Ben initially only went down for thirty minutes. While playing quietly with Ben (& Grandpa), he kept crawling into my lap, so I finally took his hint for wanting more sleep and cuddled him until he fell asleep again, this time for an extra 75 minutes.

So, then I played with Hugh (after his failed attempt to nap), while Ben slept. And by the time Ben woke up it was lunch time. As soon as lunch was finished, diapers were changed and then I played with the boys on the floor for a bit.

(There was a little scare at that point, just after Marc left for a meeting, when a homeless-looking man banged loudly on our door. I'm not sure what he wanted, since I didn't dare answer the door. It gave my heart a good race, though.)

At that point it was afternoon nap time and I was determined to help Hugh get in a good nap. (Partly so that I could also squeeze in a nap myself - going on day four of stuffy-head-cold-flu-like symptoms.) Fortunately Hugh did cooperate and, with help from my Mom, Ben went down for a second nap. As dreaded fate would have it, though, Hugh was waking up just as Ben was going down - thwarting my plans for the umpteenth time today.

By this point, I started to realize that my trip to the cemetery wasn't going to happen. I tried to not feel guilty. Thinking of the girls all day has to count for something. My thoughts were reflective more than sad, and grateful more than mournful. No matter what, I'll always associate today's date with what would have been the twins' anticipated due date. As much as I wish they could be here now, I was reminded today that sometimes our plans just don't work out like we hope and plan for.

And, in the end, it's all okay.

In my case, I would say things have worked out far better than anything I ever could have hoped for. Maybe life is just as much about making plans as it is about being open to changes in those plans.

(I'm still determined to get those poinsettias to the cemetery before the week's end.)

Oh Blessed Tupperware

2010-11-24T20:43:00.000-08:00

With Thanksgiving around the corner, much of today was spent preparing for tomorrow. I made a dairy-free pumpkin pie, a caramel apple pie, and a traditional apple pie with the leftover pie crust and apples.

I had arranged with Marc to have some extra help with the boys for a couple of hours, so that I could get the pies done faster. At one point while Marc ran to the store to pick up a crucial ingredient for me, I was left with my little walking boy playing at my feet.

I was busy peeling the granny smith apples. Ben was busy pulling out the Tupperware from the bottom cabinet and the red plastic cups. Then he found his favorite cupboard that holds the Emergen-C packets that he likes to tote around and chew on.

I paused to watch him playing at my feet, and thought of Hugh still napping upstairs... and felt so grateful for these two little boys who have come into my life. A year ago they were both on their way, but I was still feeling very hesitant to trust that they would both arrive safely and surely. But, hope was as strong as ever.

And, here we are a year later with our greatest hopes realized. Benjamin and Hugh have filled the space in my heart where pain once set up camp and threatened to stay forever. I never would have imagined life could be so sweet. Even, or maybe especially, with a kitchen floor covered in Tupperware.

With so much to be grateful for, tomorrow is bound to be a wonderful day of celebration. Happy Thanksgiving to all my friends!

Finding my voice

2010-11-22T20:48:00.000-08:00

For most of the last six months I haven't had much free time. When I have had free time, like when the boys are down for naps, I've been so exhausted that I've napped with them. And I've discovered that two naps a day is my kind of lifestyle!

Lately, though, we've finally had some success with the boys' sleeping habits (hallelujah!) and I'm starting to feel like I don't need my two naps as much as before. So, in those little pockets of time when I'm not running around trying to stay ahead of my little guys, I feel my writing bug itching to find release. The problem is that I'm struggling lately to find my voice.

For whatever reason words just seem to come flowing out when I'm in the middle of a crisis. Tragedy seems to be my best genre. Now that we're living in happier times, I almost feel like moving out of that valley of sorrow I somehow lost my voice along the way. Well, maybe it isn't that I've lost my voice so much as my voice has added a new octave and I'm trying to learn how to use it and feel comfortable with it.

My head feels backed up with thoughts that have been sitting and waiting for their escape. Hopefully my voice, in all its newness and oldness, will find a way to release all that has been building up.

A walker and a talker

2010-11-20T20:24:00.000-08:00

Ben started taking a couple of steps here and there a month or so ago. Just a couple of days before his 10-month birthday, at the end of October, he started taking 5-6 steps at a time. These days, I'd say he's walking about 90% of the time, and getting increasingly more and more steady. It is so fun to watch him grow and figure things out.

Here's a glimpse of our little walker... and Hugh, our little talker, in the background!

Sunny's Adoption Story

2010-11-18T15:07:00.000-08:00

My cousin, Sunny, has been affected by adoption in so many different ways that I find her perspective to be enlightening. I feel so grateful that she would be willing to share some of her thoughts and feelings, especially since I know they must be connected to emotions that run very deep. I appreciate her openness and am so grateful to get a glimpse into some of the sensitive feelings that come with adoption, from many different angles. I've always felt a special closeness to these three cousins - Sunny and her sisters (all adopted) - and am so glad to call them family. Here is Sunny's story.

Thoughts on being adopted

* My parents with me - my first day home

I was adopted through LDS Social Services 35 years ago. Things were very private back then, so I don't know a whole lot. I was 3 days old when my parents picked me up from the LDS Social Service Office. After six years of waiting my parents were so happy to finally be getting a baby. I was told at a very young age that I was adopted and it was openly discussed at home. I really never felt any different from other kids. My parents loved me and I felt like they were meant to be my parents.

* Sealing day

Being adopted was not an issue with me. I also have two younger sisters that were also adopted so it was just a normal thing in our home. Sometimes I would feel awkward when people knew we were adopted but for the most part it was not an issue. Some kids would make fun of us but I never let it bother me. I always knew my parents loved me.

I often wondered about my birth parents and I asked my parents several times about my them, but since it was a closed or private adoption they had no information. I have often wondered what my birth parents were like. What was going on in their life at the time of deciding to place me. What they are doing now. Even though I don't know anything I am always comforted that everything is okay and that I have a loving family now. My middle sister does not know anything about her birth parents either. My youngest sister did come in contact with her birth mother. Her adoption was through mutual friends of our family. I have always had a tender spot in my heart coming from a family that was blessed by adoption.

Experiencing the other side

I have also been on the other end - considering placing a child for adoption. I was a young single pregnant mother. I really wanted to marry the father of my child but he was nothing I had dreamed of, and he had no desire to marry me either. My parents suggested I work with LDS Social Services. It was really not what I wanted to do. I just wanted to raise my baby, but finally I softened my heart and went and listened to what they had to say. I was really touched and reflected on the courage and strength that my birth parents had to have.

I ended up choosing to go through the adoption process. At the time the agency had me list what I wanted the adoptive family to have. Then they narrowed it down to a few families and I had to decide from there. I took it to the Lord and asked that he would help me decide which family I should place my baby with. I really never felt comfortable but finally narrowed it down to one.

As time crept closer I just kept feeling uneasy about the decision and would talk with my case worker about all that I was feeling. She let me know that they had the family I had chosen on hold and that no one else could pick them until I made up my mind. That made me start to think even more. This family had their dreams on hold because I couldn't make up my mind. Realizing it was very selfish of me, I told my case worker that I needed to stop the process and that my heart is pulling me to raise my baby myself.

I reflected a lot on my life and how much adoption effected my life and my parents. I thought of my child and what he would think of me and my decisions. In the end I ended up keeping my baby. I struggled a lot trying to raise my baby on my own. Knowing the fact that my baby would not have a father. My parents were very supportive and helped me through the tough times.

Blessed by adoption again

When my son was three-years old I got married. Dustin and I were married in the LDS temple and one year later my husband was able to adopt my son and has since considered him as his father. Finally, my dreams had come together. I am not saying that all stories turn out like this. But I am very thankful for the chance to experience adoption on both ends of it.

* Wedding day

Adoption is a wonderful thing. It has a very tender spot in my heart. Someday I hope to find my birth parents so that I can find out more information about them. But most of all I can tell them Thank you! It may never happen.

I love my parents and would not have it any other way. They have been the best parents to my sisters and me.

* My family (all three adopted)

For a more recent glimpse into Sunny's beautiful life, you can find her blog here.

Thanks, Sunny, for sharing your story!

Adoption

2010-11-17T13:18:00.000-08:00

With November being National Adoption Month, I've reflected more than usual on adoption and the many ways it has blessed my life. Not only do we have our little Benjamin, but we have added a whole new circle of friends in the adoption world that have blessed our lives. There's Benjamin's birth mother and her entire family, there's other birth mothers we've come in contact with and have remained close to, there are the many other adoptive couples who have been an incredible team of support through all the ups and downs.

In my own personal life I have three cousins who were adopted and were like best friends growing up. I always knew they were adopted, but I don't remember it ever being an issue. It was just a fact... like, having blue eyes or brown hair. They were my cousins and they felt completely the same as any other cousins I had.

To help spread the good that comes from adoptions, even closed adoptions that happened a long time ago, I asked them if they'd feel comfortable sharing some of their thoughts and experiences with being adopted. I hope getting a glimpse from their perspective will help some of you that might have concerns or fears about how adoption affects the adopted child. I've been impressed with how my three cousins were raised with love and openness, as well as their level of confidence in who they are. I hope we can provide the same things for Benjamin as he grows.

So, be on the lookout in the next few days for some great personal stories that will come from my cousins and their experiences with being adopted.

Hoping to Adopt - Robert and Clover

2010-11-15T20:30:00.000-08:00

Another couple I know in real life that is hoping to adopt is Robert and Clover. You can check out their blog here, and their online profile here.

It was sixth grade band class sitting among the other flautists in the flute section - that's where I met Clover. There was a whole group of our friends that were in band together and it seems like we were pretty much inseparable even outside of class.

* with just a few from our group of friends - Sarah, me, Clover, Casey

As far as friends go, Clover was the "first" in a few different ways - my first friend who was a vegetarian, my first friend who owned a real life-size horse, my first friend who lived "in the country" (way up in the hills on the outskirts of town), just to name a few. I remember going out to her house for slumber parties and seeing her with her horse and understanding how perfectly she was in her element in those beautiful hills with her stunning mare. It was so obvious.

Through high school with the ups and downs of school, relationship drama, and boys, Clover was one who was fiercely loyal. I remember the feeling of standing next to her and it was almost as if I could feel a surge of strength flow from her to me. There was no fear in my friend Clover.

* Clover, Sarah, me

Just to illustrate - on one of our hikes at Girls' Camp we came across a rather large rattle snake. It was about three feet long and I was just inches away, mesmerized by the way it was coiling its lanky body together into a tight little ball. Little did I know, as an innocent 13-year old town girl, that the subsequent rattle was a sign of grave danger. I remember very clearly Clover grabbing my arm very firmly and practically pushing me out of the way, calmly explaining what rattle snakes do just before striking. Calm, level-headed, unafraid.

Unfortunately we briefly lost touch after high school. But, about five years ago we reconnected again. I still remember sitting on the steps of our family room, talking to her on the phone one Sunday evening - the first time in eight years or so. In that time she had married her high school sweetheart, and they had already experienced some great losses in their pursuit to starting a family. I was impressed with Clover's strength and faith, and knew that sharing our struggles with infertility would bring our friendship to a new level. And it did. As much as they had gone through then (six years ago), they have since gone through even more. Thirteen years of disappointment and heartache - and, still when I talk to her now I feel that same surge of strength and courage coming from her.

I look forward with great anticipation to watching Clover naturally assume the role of mother hand-in-hand with Robert. They are a good couple - solid and faithful through whatever storms they face. Lucky is the birth mother who will merge her life with theirs, as they will both immensely bless each others' lives.

Hoping to Adopt - Sarah and Brad

2010-11-10T20:14:00.000-08:00

I have some close friends (from real life) who are currently hoping to adopt. Because nothing would make me happier than to see them in the middle of the joys and chaos that come with a baby, I wanted to help them get the word out.

First up - Sarah and Brad. Check out their blog here. And their online profile here.

They were approved to adopt a year or so ago. They have had some heartbreaking disappointments along the way, including a placement that was reversed after having the baby home with them for a couple of days. And, still, they remain hopeful and positive in the face of even the most difficult of circumstances. Which is exactly what I loved about Sarah when we first met.

We met briefly on a humid August day in Modena, Italy. I was a brand-spanking-new missionary. I honestly don't remember much from that short visit, except that she was much more energetic than any sister missionary I had yet met. It wasn't until the following January, when I found out I was being transferred to Mestre, that I really got to know Sarah much better.

* Sarah protecting me from my first exposure to the pigeons in Piazza San Marco

At first, I wasn't sure how our personalities were going to jive and I was a little nervous about being in a new area with a new companion. As it turned out our strengths and weaknesses complimented each other really well and we had a wonderful two months together. I learned a lot about Sarah during that time - about her childhood, her challenges, her determination to overcome difficulty, her ability to find good in everyone and her optimistic view even in the face of struggle. I don't remember her ever getting discouraged or upset - even when I woke her up from talking in my sleep or the time when I accidentally gave her a black eye with a frozen Snickers, our treat of choice on P-day Eve.

We worked hard, we worked together, we encouraged each other, we became really good friends. One of my favorite memories was doing "Mostra" on a busy street corner in Mestre. I had just finished talking with someone when I looked over to see Sarah in the middle of teaching this little Italian man about modern-day prophets. With her fists pumping up and down with enthusiasm, she confidently declared "C'e' un profeta sulla terra oggi!" (There is a prophet on the earth today!) Her enthusiasm was contagious, as evidenced by the reaction of the kind gentleman. It was such a perfect moment that demonstrated so much about Sarah and what I love about her personality.

I can just imagine the kind of life Sarah and Brad will provide for their children. There will be some lucky little ones who will have the blessing of being raised by them and I hope that day comes soon.

Halloween Photos

2010-11-07T20:50:00.000-08:00

Halloween five years ago Marc and I were asked to chaperone a youth dance, so I whipped out some costumes for us one afternoon... actually I think it was the same day as the dance, since that's typical for a procrastinator like myself.

*Halloween 2005

This was also a rare event when Marc revealed a more outrageous side of his personality, which left some with their jaws on the floor and their bellies aching with laughter. It included Cyndi Lauper and some Napoleon-Dynamite-like dance moves. He still gets comments about it, five years later.

So, anyway, to make costume ideas simple for this year, we dug out our old costumes and I whipped out some mini versions for the boys.

(Photo quality isn't the best when using an ipod...)

* Those are two little teeth on Ben's smiley - to match his own (except now he has a top one poking through, too)

Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately), for Marc's sake, there was no dancing this year. I'm sure I wasn't the only one disappointed.

And, here's just a glimpse of the craziness of the night and a first time (over) protective Mama. But, really, what 10-month old would survive a pen of crazy kids hyped up on candy (and who knows what else) without his Mom to shield him just a bit?! Ben loved it and seemed oblivious to all the crazy kids about to trample him... I, on the other hand, was a bit of a basketcase.

(Okay, the video is taking FOREVER to upload... so, I'll try again tomorrow. I need to get some sleep!)

Candy Experiment

2010-11-01T16:10:00.000-07:00

Last night we realized that the boys' bedtime was going to interfere with Trick or Treaters (or, actually the other way around), but we were determined to get rid of the huge bowl of candy so we came up with a plan.

We put the bowl of candy on the porch with a sign - "Please take TWO pieces of candy" - hoping that would be enough to set some limits while at the same time depleting our supply.

As we were heading upstairs I made a comment to Marc about wishing I could sit and watch to see what people would do. Would one kid come along and dump the entire bowl into his bag? So, at the last minute Marc decided to set up the video camera in a perfect position to catch all the action without anyone knowing. We turned the lights out and went about our bedtime routine as usual.

I headed downstairs around 9pm, expecting to find an empty candy bowl. Instead it was still half full. I know there were kids who came by, since I was spying on a couple here and there. Apparently kids are more honest these days than what I would have expected, especially on a night like Halloween when the greed for candy is at an all-time high.

Or maybe taking a bowl of candy to fill your bucket ruins the fun of going door to door for three hours.

Or maybe they didn't like our choice of candy.

Whatever the reason we still have far too much candy than we know what to do with.

Save it for next year? Ha!