Today I slowed down

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

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

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

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

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!

Hope

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

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 of our 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.