Becoming Sisters

When we announced we were pregnant with our second baby, most reactions involved some version of the question "How far apart will they be?" accompanied by a nervous little dance. Nervous for me or at that having 2 kids under two years might be contagious, I'm not sure.

Of course it's 10 times more hectic than just having one kid. Of course I'm tired and have developed a relationship with coffee never before seen between woman and beverage.

But I have gotten to see something really really cool happen. I've gotten to watch these two little loves become sisters.

 I willed myself to be confident that the magical bond of sisters would happen. I thought it would be later in life actually, when they were both toddling around or maybe after Josephine started talking.

 But these two have loved playing together since as long as I can remember.

Sometimes it was terrifying trying to teach a 1 1/2 year old what "soft" and "gentle" mean.

Until we very recently upgraded to a minivan with captain seats in the middle, the girls would often hold hands in the car. Makes your ovaries twitch, right??

There are countless sweet moments.

And there are special challenges. Like during the first six months when the only way anyone would nap is if I rocked them to sleep together. When everyone is crying at the same time. When both desperately need me at the same time. The logistics of grocery shopping. Then there's the unfortunate incident that happened a few weeks ago involved a fast toddling baby who fell hands first into *not her own* dirty diaper that was in process of being changed.

But overall, there has been lots of giggling, snuggling, a surprising amount of wrestling!, character-building and life lessons learned that would not have happened organically at this young of an age without a sibling. 

Nine times out of the ten that I set my alarm early to get some work done or some alone time, the littlest decides it would be great to wake up two hours earlier than usual and spend some quality time with Mama. She toddles after me as I fix my morning coffee and tend to chores, but seems out of sorts - clinging to me, randomly fussing, walking around aimlessly. The minute her sister wakes up and walks into the room, the two embrace like one just returned from an arduous journey. Eleven unconscious hours is a long time to be apart, y'all.

Now at 1 year and 2.5, I feel like the dust is settling a bit. The logistics of a two kid 2 and under family are more second nature now. Sometimes there are classic "sister arguments" and someone gets bopped on the head or smacked with a toy. 

But most days while I'm doing chores or cooking, I'll hear things get suspiciously silent and find two sisters snuggling in a cat bed behind an old wicker chair with a spoon they've stolen from their mama's kitchen. And it's worth it. So worth it.

Confessions From a Former Lurker

You know what I do all day? I wipe little noses and bottoms. I play chase and hide-and-go-seek and peekaboo. I sing silly songs and read books and wrestle around on the floor and make my little fairies fly and squeal with delight.

I drink a lot of coffee. I work two jobs from home. And I love it.

However.

It can be isolating.

I still have an itty bitty baby in the house who requires a lot of milk to sustain her ever-growing leg rolls. At least eight times a day, we curl up together for a little baby nourishment. I gaze in her eyes and stroke her little baby head and her fat baby fingers. As she drifts off, I pull out my trusty smartphone that I never thought I'd use, and I read. And read and read and read. I consume articles and blogs and podcasts written by normal people. I've noticed my consumption of this sort of writing directly correlates with how much support I'm longing for at that moment.

I've got some great girl friends, but we're all moms and our kids are our priority. Sometimes it seems impossible to find a time to have a heart to heart when there are babies to care for, relationships with husbands to nurture, households to run, businesses to keep afloat.

On my toughest days, a strained conversation over the phone with kids in both houses shouting in the background just ain't cuttin' it. And it's not anyone's fault. It just is what it is. This is the crazy, beautiful season of motherhood.

I'm re-realizing the original reason of this blog. I often think, Why don't I just shut it down? But something in me can't do it. I can't just consume all of these other people's stories and not give back. If one person stumbles across one post that helps her feel supported, then my goal is accomplished.

I've been re-realizing in my "real" life as well. When I started college, I swallowed my pride and weird hangups and threw myself into situations to make friends. I prayed the summer between high school and college for at least one or two solid girl friends. He blessed me with an entire community of outstanding, inspiring women, many of whom I am still friends with today.

My husband and I spent the first 2 years after we moved to a new city craving community. Whining about it really. This past year, my husband and I decided that instead of waiting for a community to fall into our laps, it was time to create one. I've been letting go in ways I thought I never could. I made myself call acquaintances and invite them over. (I've been known to have trouble ordering pizza on the phone). We shyly asked people to come over for dinner. The more we did it, the easier it got.

Maybe these aren't big feats for most people, but I never thought I'd be in this place. We strike up conversation and drop our judgments and open our home to whoever needs support or coffee or laughter. And it feels good.

I've noticed this ability to easily create community is something lacking in my generation. Sometimes it still doesn't feel natural to me, online or in real life, to actively engage with those around me. It's easy to lurk on blogs and facebook pages and never comment, never contribute to a discussion. It's easy to listen in on others' conversations, but not hold meaningful ones ourselves.

I think when I succumb to this passive position, I tend to let toxic feelings creep up in my heart. When I don't participate, I sometimes feel smart and elitist. I don't have a chance to sound dumb and be humbled because I'm never taking a risk to say anything or grow or learn.

It's time to consciously form community. Maybe someone needs you to speak up or lend an ear or be silent but available.

Good morning, little loves

I recently gave birth to another little beauty. I love this stage where they're still small and floppy and cross-eyed and perfect. 

The toddler years, on the other hand, challenge me on every. single. level.

Being a mother can be isolating. After a few rough days, I find myself thinking crazy things. Like that my kid is plotting against me, trying to push my buttons, that she's out to get me.

And then I take a deep breath, make a cup of tea and call someone who has more than 300 words in their vocabulary to try and undo the crazy I'm feeling. And I repeat to myself.....They're basically brand new to the world. They're still learning. I'm still learning. The way I respond to this behavior lays the groundwork for how they will learn to behave. Patience.

I was feeling guilty about this until recently when I read a blog post where a mom confessed that she doesn't really love babyhood, but is really enjoying her older children. Somehow just reading another mom's experience soothed my heart, reassured me that it's okay to feel this way. The fact that I struggle with a certain child's temperament or stage she is going through is not a reflection of how much I love her. 

What's important is the way I strive to grow personally so I can meet her where she's at in her little life. Is she frustrated? How can I demonstrate peace? Is she grumpy when things don't go her way? How can I exemplify joy in all situations?

The years go by so fast, but a mother's day is incredibly long. This song has given me so much encouragement and perspective this week. I've been singing it to my girls and dancing with them in the kitchen :) You can listen to it here.

[VERSE]
Good morning
You and the sun are up before I'm ready
But ready or not, you need me
So here I am

I'm learning that in the long hard days
There is beauty
Do you know my favorite place to see it
It's when I look at you

And though I'm tired now
You're worth every sleepless night
You're worth it all, cause I know...

[CHORUS]
You're the best song I'll ever write
And we're humming and dancing through the years together
You're the best song I'll ever write
And I pray you'll hear Jesus in it when you're older

[VERSE]
I remember when you were just a heartbeat that I heard
and now our eyes meet
Forever is not enough to love you

Heart

We're expecting another little person. 20 months after the first one. We are overjoyed, but oh my, the reactions we've gotten.

But this isn't a post about how the only appropriate thing to say a pregnant woman is a heartfelt congratulations.

We hoped and planned for this baby and we've been so happy since we found out a few months ago. But I've been feeling guilty anyway. Guilty that I don't feel bewildered ecstasy ever time I think about the little life growing inside of me. With my first baby, all I could think about was that little person. 24 hours a day. I sang and talked to her constantly.

Now I'm in my second pregnancy with an energetic toddler underfoot at all times. To give an example of my mental state this time: Today around 4pm at the grocery, I looked down at my belly and noticed I looked particularly round. It was at this time that I remembered that I'm 15 weeks pregnant. How does one forget she is pregnant?

I've been worried so much that my divided attention means I love this baby less or that I won't be able to give my kids the attention they deserve. My heart doesn't soar for this baby constantly like it did when my daughter was in utero. I'm too exhausted to soar. I've been wondering when that moment would hit where I felt in love with this child and think of him (or her) as more than just my daughter's little sibling, but a piece of my own heart.

Last week I went in for a check up at the beginning of my second trimester. I had already heard the heartbeat and seen the first little tadpole ultrasound in my first trimester, so this visit was fairly routine. My husband I had refused early genetic testing since we're not high risk and abortion isn't an option for us. This midwife reviewed with me that if the baby showed abnormalities at the 20 week ultrasound, I could opt for genetic testing at that time even though I don't want to terminate (man, I dislike that word) but so I could prepare for the possibility of a kid with disabilities. It's a pretty routine conversation between health care providers and pregnant women, one I always dismiss by throwing around words like Catholic so they know I'm keeping my baby regardless.

The midwife moved the doppler along my belly and I held my breath for one doubtful moment waiting for that heartbeat. She found my heartbeat, moved a little to the left. Faintly, we heard the rapid heartbeat of the baby and she chased it with the doppler, commenting on how active the baby was already. I breathed a sigh of relief that the baby was still there, still healthy.

The midwife slid the wand a little to the right. The doppler found a perfect spot where we could equally and clearly hear my strong, solid heartbeat and the baby's rapid one, beating together in harmony as one heartbeat.

And then I fell in love with this baby.

If the midwife would have had the same conversation about genetic testing with me after this experience, I would have responded differently. Being Catholic isn't my reason for keeping my baby. My initial answer shows that being prolife is a religious matter, which it isn't. It's a people matter. I would choose this life over my own because I could no sooner carve this little person out of my body than I could carve out my own heart.

I'm always baffled when people talk about aborting a child to save the life of a mother. How is this saving her life? A woman can't live without her heart.

Good Mom, "Bad" Mom

I just posted today on Facebook about how I'm so excited that my 1 year old really loves nutritious food. Here is a picture of her covered in black beans, one of her favorite foods:

We'll call this "Good Mom" picture. Not that it's necessarily a personal accomplishment that she loves foods that are good for her. Since people are quick to credit mothers with their children's bad behaviors, so I'm going to give myself as many points as possible.

I just want to point out in this next picture, she is at least eating chopped up organic pears.

But since she also has a black eye, we'll call this "Bad" Mom picture. Bad is in quotes because I know her black eye isn't my fault and that it happens to a lot of kids that are learning to walk. I know that she's got a lot of clumsy genes not working in her favor (maybe partially my fault). But I still feel so gosh darn bad about that eye. She looks like she's been boxing.

If I were to make a post called Good Dad, "Bad" Dad, I'd say how "Good Dad" got our child dressed in her pajamas so that I could have a few minutes of rest. 

But then I would post this picture to show how"Bad Dad" dressed her:

But I'm not going to post about that.

A year of growth

Our sweet little girl turned one this week. I haven't been able to blog in awhile because I'm so busy chasing her, tickling her, playing patty cake, reading books and laughing and laughing and laughing. I'm still wondering how this:

turned into this:

and then became this:

and then way too quickly became this:

and then I blinked for ONE SECOND and she became this:

Next thing I know, we're having her first birthday party and I'm smiling on the outside but freaking out on the inside thinking Where did that year go???

Pregnancy was so...stressful. Partly because I made it that way. Should we have waited longer to have a baby? Are we ready for this? Do I have enough clothes for her? Am I going to be a good parent? Everyone wants to give parenting advice and each person's advice was conflicted with the next person's and I read too many things about parenting and baby raising and took the advice/criticism of others WAY to heavily. Basically, when I went in to have the baby, I was a wreck.

Then that baby came out and they placed her on my chest and she opened her eyes and stared at me. My brain reset and my heart exploded and absolutely nothing that happened before that moment mattered. 

My husband and I talk often about how silly we were to wonder if we were ready for a baby. We weren't, but not in the way we originally thought. Nothing could have prepared us for such inexplicable love and joy.

Working with it

I'm envious of how my husband can turn his brain into a complete blank. This is what my brain was thinking in its "relaxed" state this morning: almost walking toddler keeps rearranging all my kitchen furniture, phantom baby poop smell...where is it coming from? $1000 bucks to fix our car, ugly striped wall paper in the kitchen WON'T.COME.OFF, coffee not available in an IV, laundry up to my neck, pouring outside, negative groceries in the fridge - do I have time to go to the store, house is a mess. nothing prepared for first birthday, no prayer time, cat litter traveling all over laundry room, how do people save enough to maintain their home? i want to curl up in a ball with a blanket and a cup of tea and read a good book.

Sometimes I think that's just how women are designed. I can't control that I'm always thinking, but I can work with it and turn it into this: baby is almost walking so exciting, I'm so glad we have the money to fix our car, what a BLESSING that we finally got a nicer house than we ever dreamed of, i love cooking in this kitchen, I'm glad my herbs are getting water from the rain, Lord help me use the abundance in my life for others, let's see what i can whip up with the pantry items, one project at a time, i think we have too much stuff we should donate, i think i'll curl up with the baby and the very hungry caterpillar and read using silly voices.


I couldn't think of how to turn the baby poop one positive. I really need to find out where that smell is coming from.