My Optimist

I wanted another optimist to share my joy and love for life alongside me.  It seemed like my friends and my family were letting me down.
 
I complained to my husband.  I complained to my mom.
 
After the complaints died down, Lucy ran behind me as I idly checked my Facebook account.  She threw open the front door, mid-sprint, and let it slam behind her.  The sun was shining as bright as a ray of gold outside.
 
I opened the door and called out to my Lucy, "What are you doing out there, girl?"
 
"I'm chasing the sparkles, Mom!"    
 
And she ran into the sunshine, the bricks of our sidewalk glimmering around her like true magic melting into my heart.

Thankfulness Begets Thankfulness

It's 3:15 AM and time for another insomnia motherhood post.  I know that my little Frank won't wake me up forever.  Just tonight, I slowed down to remember that.  I stroked his soft, fluffy hair while I rocked and nursed him.  The fan buzzed quietly beside the rocking chair.  The rest of the house slept, and Frankie ate.

I am so grateful for my baby boy!  Perhaps more this time than ever with any of my children before this.  How is it that as we age, we become more acutely aware of the preciousness of life?  How did I take for granted the gift I'd been given during three infancies before Frankie's?

Don't get me wrong:  I have always loved and enjoyed my babies.  But this time I have submitted to Frankie.  I am even more patient with my body this time, reminding myself that I am beautiful in my state as a new mother.  That no one will love me more if I crazily try to diet quickly.  Mostly that applies to me----I need not love myself more for dieting quickly.

But I digress. 

This post was actually supposed to be about gratitude.  I've been doing an exercise on Facebook this November that I've tried in other years, but never completely fulfilled.  Each day, I post something for which I am truly thankful.  In addition to Facebook, I keep a handwritten copy of my running list on my refrigerator.  Here it is:

 

 

 

The interesting thing about this gratitude exercise (and something I've learned before, but needed reminding to consider again) is that gratitude begets more gratitude.  Just listing one thing I am truly thankful for every day prompts me to literally count the blessings in my life as November unravels. 

 

What a unique chance to realize more fully the gifts I am given in this life.

 

What perfect opportunity to tell God thank you for the people, the places, the moments, and the things that surround me.

 

 

For My Young Man

Dear Tommy,

I'm looking at a recently-framed pirate picture you drew for me, and thinking about the life you are carving out for yourself in second grade.  I was surprised the other day when your teacher emailed out a photo of you and your classmates holding up signs of your hoped-for professions.  You want to be an artist!  Your talent really is blossoming.

You are growing up, Tommy.  I look at you now, strong and athletic, smelling of boy sweat after a quick game of kickball in the neighborhood, and I realize you have talent and strength and wisdom these days.  You consciously go for the comedic punch line.  ("Mom....Frank's crying!!  You've got the do the 'bop-around'....whatever that is.")  You dance like crazy.  You are sensitive, wanting to please me and yet putting up a huge wall of defense when something difficult crops up between us.

Don't be afraid of me, Tommy.  I am on your side.  I know you are saving the many lunch-notes I've drawn for you in the secret compartment of your lunch box.  I know you love me and I love you back...every moment.

Even in the hard ones.

Love, Mom

A Moment for Jimmy

Dear Jimmy,

I'm having trouble sleeping this week.  Don't tell your Grandma, because even though the truth is that Frank is just waking me up and it's hard to fall back asleep sometimes, Grandma will worry.  Maybe when you are a Daddy yourself, you will understand that mothers just can't stop worrying about their kids.

I've spent a good bit of time worrying about my own lately!  You kids have given me a run for my money over the last few months.  We've been slowly adjusting to life as a family of six, and that has come with incredible joys and many bumps along the road.  You, as my four year old and my longest-running "baby" of the family, have shown your share of jealousy toward all this tumultuosness.  I still keep that little Frank close at hand when there is no one around to supervise you and him together; otherwise, you'll try to see what happens when you "gently" squish his cheeks or plug his nose.



I know this is normal brother and normal kid curiousity, but it never fails to shock a mother of a baby when a GIANT four year old shows even the slightest bit of un-gentlesness toward the infant.    Reminds me of when Tommy was a baby and his big cousin, Will, tried the same shenanigans.  I was horrified.

I got over it, though.

Back to you, Jimmy. 




You are an amazing, amazing kid.  When I have a minute to slow down (it doesn't often happen except when Frank wakes me up at 2am), I think about the mischievous grin on your face and how you will do anything to make others laugh.  I can not count the number of times during a single dinner that we ask you to sit down, please....sit down NOW...sit down ON YOUR BUTT....because you are so involved in standing and trying to claim your place as a conversationalist in the family.  Thank goodness we long-ago instituted the practice of reviewing "highs" of the day one by one at dinner, lest you may not get a word in edgewise between your father, Tom, Lucy, and me. 

And yet.  When you are out in the world, Jimmy, your heart is shining for others to notice.  You simply astound me, kid.  For about year, you've introduced yourself to new friends on playgrounds with a smile and an exuberance that even your loving preschool teacher had to admit was somewhat intimidating for other young children.  As your mom, I could see you yearned to make friends and you didn't yet realize that making friends meant giving them a little personal space...maybe a few inches, at least.  Over the course of that first year in preschool, Mrs. McDonald similarly called you out on behavior again...and again...and again, but she did secretly confide in me that you were a favorite of hers.  She could see the happiness and joy for life in your heart, Jim. 

Thank God someone else could see it, because I was starting to wonder whether you would ever settle down and show it in an appropriate way!

But you are settling down, little by little.  This year, we've started carpooling with your best friend on the block, Kade.  You and Kade are just a riot together, piping up from the backseat about Star Wars and girlfriends and baby brothers.   You are teaming up for little boy shenanigans and riding one-handed down the cul de sac already.  I still haven't forgotten how Kade challenged you to ride your bike a little faster on practically the first day you got rid of training wheels.  It's a dog-eat-dog world out there for 3 year olds on bikes these days.

I have to admit, Jimmy, that I have often wondered if you'd survive and flourish despite the crazy chaos in our house over your first few years.  I have loved you with all my might, but with Tom and Lucy and you so close in age, I didn't have the time to perfect your baby book like I wanted.  Does that matter in the long run?  Will you grow up and feel like you missed out on my love because of it?

I sure hope not.  I look into your smile every day, kid, and I see God's light in your eyes and through to your heart.  I pray that you will use your enthusiasm and gifts for big things. 

I love you more than you will realize for years to come.  I am so lucky to be the mom of such a spunky, spirited four year old. 

Love,
Mom

Final image of Jimmy taken amazingly by Paula Charchenko.

Finally!

 

Since school has started, it's as if my postpartum baby fog has finally lifted and I'm feeling recharged, like the old Anne who has more energy than to just lay around nursing a goo-goo-ga-ga baby all day.  There is something totally blissful about being the sole nourishment and lifeline of a newborn.  But then, there is something blissful about reclaiming your vigor for life.

Last night, I reclaimed that vigor at one of my favorite annual activites, the St. Pat's Garage Sale.  Every year I go with my mom and sister to wait in line at their first-night preview.  $3 is a measly pin-drop to pay for what glory awaits inside!  Over the years, I have scored golden peep-toed designer shoes and many other amazing treasures.  The sale is in a community that donates TOP NOTCH stuff. I am not kidding around here, people.

Last night was no exception to the usual amazing treasure hunt.  Among my finds were 3 kids' lacrosse sticks, priced at $3 each, and a beautiful 1960s-era Drexel chest perfect for my husband's manly closet needs.  I also replaced Lucy's Columbia jacket (she lost the lining last year after wearing her brand-new one about twice) for $5.  The jacket looked like it had never been worn.

I outfitted my eldest son in this elegant boyswear.  He's pretty handsome, if I do say so myself.

 

 

 

 

 

This Beautiful Family We're Given

How does the time continue to fly and fly?  This time of year, the crisp fall air and the scent of school supplies fill my heart with joy.  Oh yes they do.

I've done this before, so I know that my full heart is probably just a post-partum endorphin high.  But still, I relish a moment at 4am to sit and reflect upon all the God has given our family.  This weekend was one I'd like to remember.

A walk with my cousin Mary around Lake Harriet.  A trip to Hunt & Gather, my new favorite vintage store.  An extended overnight date with my husband and Frankie, and my three older kids in the care of loving Wisconsin Grandma and Grandpa.  They came back bubbling with joy and tales of a morning campire and freshly baked cookies for breakfast.

In a big and busy family, a date at a French restaurant and an indie film with no interruptions are something John and I relish.  Even a quiet morning with our baby is quite rare. 

And yet.  Somehow this family of ours is full of life and joy.  Somehow these kids, who are rambunctious and joyful and trouble-making and life-changing, are really not a burden but a joy.  They fill our house and they fill our hearts. 

Every time I think I am at my wits' end and have hit my limit, I am given a moment of inspiration to realize how much gratitude I must have for these children of mine, and this family John and I are humbled to call our own.

Quiet Morning With Frank

My Frankie

John and I made the drive together into Edina on the morning of Wednesday, June 6, 2012.  The sky was brilliant blue and we stopped at Dunn Brothers for a quick pick-me-up at the start of what we knew would be an amazing day for our family.  Still, we laughed to realize that by our fourth child and third induction, we did not feel nervous or overly anxious about driving to the hospital to have a baby.  I guess we both felt comfortable knowing within a few hours, we would finally meet our fourth child and begin the adventure again.

In my hospital room, John took the usual final pregnancy photos of me sticking my tongue out at the camera.  We waited for the pitocin drip in my arm to kick in and get the contractions moving along.  Things were slow.  Every so often, the nurses would come in and turn things up, checking in on me and commenting that the baby didn't seem be coming down yet into the birth canal.

By noon, things were still moving slow.  My doctor broke my waters and I felt this instanteous feeling of relief as the pressure I had been experiencing in my belly for months released.  The contractions that followed were not even painful.  We talked about whether I should get an epidural; the hospital team seemed to think that once things got going, it would all happen very quickly.

After the epidural kicked in, little Frankie began experiencing some heart deceleration in the womb.  The nurses came in periodically to rotate my position in the bed to try to control his heart rate.  First my left side, then my right side, finally my back.  Frankie didn't seem to stabilize and labor was not moving along.  The nurses put in a call to my doctor and told me we would do a procedure that used to be relatively common, re-inserting fluid into my amniotic sac.   The hope was that the additional fluid would bring Frank's heart rate back to normal so he would handle the birthing process better.

Several nurses worked together to attempt the procedure, but due to my high cervix and Frank's mysterious position inside me, they couldn't find a way to get the tube inserted.  In what seemed like a blurring moment, the room filled with nurses and I understood the look they shared between them:  Something was really wrong.  This wasn't going as planned.  Before they said it, I almost spoke aloud myself that we needed to go to an operating room.

It was an instant.  They looked at John and explained that I needed an emergency c-section, that he would stay behind because of how quickly this would happen.  And then the nurses were running down the hall with me on the bed, my heart panicking and my hand resting on my stomach to reassure both myself and Frank that things would be ok. 

An overhead page announced again and again the code:  Any OB report for surgery, Any surgeon come to assist.  The moment stopped and spun, and I was in the operating room grasping the gravity of the sequence.  Talking to an anesthesiogist who would put me out because there was time for nothing else.  A surgical team putting things in place.  A sense of panic.  A gulp from within me and the start of a tear.  But no doctor.  No doctor.

No doctor.

And the code continued overhead.  And the minutes passed.

And then, she was suddenly there.  She was introducing herself and they were about to begin and a nurse near my left shoulder asked me what was this baby's name?   "Frankie," I spoke.  I said it again.  I felt my belly and felt Frankie not moving and wondered and believed at the same time that I might awaken and have no baby in my arms.   I prayed for him to make it through.

And then I was out.

Frankie was stuck inside me, having twisted himself into birthing position with his head and one foot down.  My body wouldn't dialate or make room for his strange position. 

Frankie was twisted.  The umbilical cord wrapped around his neck twice, and a quite unusual complication in addition to this:  the umbilical cord was tied in a "true knot,"  a tight knot much like any you would tie except that Frankie's knot stretched and pulled during the birthing process, causing his heart distress with every motion he made.  He probably tied the knot himself months ago doing somersaults inside me.

When they took him out, Frankie needed resuscitation and they estimatated that his heart rate had been dangerously low for 10-12 minutes.  But Frank was a fighter, weighing in at 8 lbs. 10 ounces.  Measuring 20.5 inches.  In five minutes, he was breathing and screaming and erasing the memory of how close to death he had been.

My baby.  I never could have predicted the feeling of worry for a child's life that would overcome me on the morning of your birth day.  My heart gulped to realize all that was in the hands of those around me in that operating room.  What if it had taken another moment?  Another two?

You're here now, Francis Luke.  Frankie.  And our hearts are bursting, wondering what each moment will bring and who you will become. 

How thankful we are that God kept you safe, that God gave us you to love inside...and out.

Last Walk with Lucy

Our family is on the brink of the newest adventure---our fourth child will be born on Wednesday!  It's Memorial Day, and Lucy and I took advantage of the peaceful morning to talk a long walk together around the neighborhood pond. 

The twill of the red-winged blackbird (and the fact that its wings show half a rainbow) did not go unnoticed by 5 year old Lucy.  She walked, picking up pieces of broken tar and leaves.  She noticed worms, wiggling or dead.  She stopped to observe a butterfly and then sadly remarked that since it was wounded, it might be eaten by a bird. 

For a block, she followed the lines created in tar to repair the broken sidewalk as they curved back and forth, side to side. 

A walk with Lucy isn't really fast paced.

Near the end of our walk, Lucy asked me if she could walk home alone.  We were still quite a ways from home.  "Why not?" she asked.  "I am a kindergartener!"  (She just graduated from preschool this week.)

As our neighborhood park came into view, she asked again and I said yes.  Look both ways before you cross the road.

And off she went.  Lucy was running.  Every so often, she'd glance back to see where I was, and then hurry along as fast as she could toward home.

I realized, in this season of new beginnings and graduation and spring, that Lucy was not running away from me.  She was running to be herself, to be independent, to be free.

Isn't that the way it's supposed to be.

For The Boy We Are Waiting For

Dearest baby,
 
I've written this letter to you so many times in my head over the last seven months.  Keeping up with your older brothers and sister sometimes stops me from sitting down and putting my words outward for you. 
 
This journey has been, in many ways, the most beautiful of my pregnancy experiences.  You took it easy on me in the beginning, saving me from the months of sickness and nausea I had with the other kids.  I'm hoping this is a sign of our relationship to come!  Now, as my stomach swells and sometimes jolts from here to there as you explore your world, I am eager and impatient to meet the littlest boy in my life.  My son.  You can't yet know how much I dream of you and wonder who you will be.  My heart is just bursting to know you and hold you.
 
Our family is just as excited as I am to figure out exactly what kind of little boy we will welcome this spring.  Each day, it seems one of your siblings finds a new question to pose about you.  Yesterday, Tommy snuck down from his bunk bed late at night to make sure that if I had to go to the hospital for you to be born, we would wake him up first so he would be ready for you.  We have all been preparing for your arrival---telling stories of others' births, talking to you through my belly, pulling out baby clothes, and stocking up on necessities like a new car seat, many tiny diapers, and all the sweet supplies that fill a nursery.
 
You are such a lucky boy, my son.  You haven't met him yet but you will be amazed to learn as you grow that you have the most loving and wonderful Dad! 
 
Outside your growing place, our world is always busy.  Jimmy and Lucy are busy with preschool, and Tommy is hard at work right now in first grade.  This mild winter has melted away to reveal an early and sunny spring, something everyone here can appreciate.  While I'm waiting for you, I uncover the plants in our garden and wait for the hyacinth and the tulips to bloom.  By the time you arrive, our whole garden will be blossoming to welcome you.
 
Take your time, little one.  I am so impatient each day but you need this time to grow.  We are so ready for you whenever you decide to come out!
 
With all my love,
your Mama

Birthday!

It's Washington's birthday, and the day we celebrate the birth of the littlest lady of the house, Lucy Louise. She is five today. Five years old. It's strange how a birthday can strike you as so short and so long in coming. It's hard to imagine life without her.

It was five years ago that first my sister Sarah, and then I, gave birth in a span of just five weeks. The first result was my nephew Walt, and the second of course was Lu. I still remember holding those two little bugs, one in each arm in my hospital bed. Who would have known what spunky individuals would emerge from those babes?

Over the weekend, Lucy celebrated with friends and cousins at a Harry Potter party in our newly-safety-proofed basement. We had potions class, a race with golden dragon eggs, and magic wand decorating. There was chaos and cupcake and excitement. It was just the ticket to marking what I've always considered the entry-age into real childhood.

Now it's a low-key birthday afternoon, and we're waiting for a bunk bed delivery and the perfect moment to dive into a delicious chocolate cake. A pregnant lady couldn't be happier. :)

Update

I am so filled with joy this week!

I know that sounds a little ridiculous, but I guess I'll just tell the truth and say that something about this week has found me with a new sense of optimism. Our lives have unfolded so many new layers in the past months. Most notably, I am halfway through my fourth pregnancy! We are so excited about a new baby coming to our family this summer.

This has been a mild winter and today I am thankful for the blue sky and beaming sun outside. I am incredibly thankful for my healthy body and the little baby growing within it. Yesterday my first---and long desired!---treadmill was delivered and today I took my baby for its first run on it. What a great feeling it is to be able to push forward and accomplish something physical and strengthening for myself as I grow and change.

Everyone else in our family has been growing and changing, too. I regret that I haven't kept the blog more detailed with all the kids' antics and adventures.

Tommy is loving first grade and is a smart little whipper-snapper. The science curriculum at his elementary school has particularly impressed me, and I have also been overjoyed to see his progress in reading. We took a trip to a book store this weekend and let each kid purchase a book, a rare treat considering the library is our general free option. Tommy chose a tough chapter book about 1.5 inches thick and promptly dove into it at home. As much as I am a stickler for the kids' bedtimes, I have to admit that I just looked the other way this week when I checked on Tommy at 9PM one school night and saw his nose buried in the book. I remember staying up well past my bedtime reading Nancy Drew and hundreds of other books as a little nerd.

Lucy is also growing into quite a young lady. I can not believe she will be five this next month. She just began reading herself, starting with about 4 letter words in sentences. She can also do some crazy math and is quite proud when I give her math homework. Lucy is a tender-hearted girl who shows real natural empathy for others. She often observes people quietly, and always seems ready to give Mom a hug of encouragement when she can tell I'm having a tough moment. Lucy is very imaginative, and it is this trait that leads her room to often look like it's been in the path of a hurricane. She can incorporate even the smallest scrap of paper into a detailed game of play.

And Jimmy! Our Jimmy. When he was wearing his winter hat with two points (kind of a jokerish hat) the other day, a random passerby just sighed at how cute he was. And he sure is. Bubbling with enthusiasm, Jimmy always has a story to tell and can rarely get the words out fast enough. He is an impusive little guy and has been struggling a bit in preschool to pay attention and follow the rules. Jimmy has a big heart and is probably the snuggliest of the kids. I am sure that with time, he will calm down a bit....right?

I'd love to write more but it's time for a popsicle break over here. Until next time...