First of First

Today was G's first day of First Grade. He couldn't have been more excited. He picked pancakes for his last meal of summer and played wiffle ball and legos to fill his time before bed. He got exactly one new shirt for back to school shopping, excited and proud because it was a "learning shirt" from Lands End, complete with a glow-in-the-dark moon and fast facts about said moon. He's an easy kid to please. No new backpack, shoes, or lunchbox. No demanding of any fancy school supplies but sheer excitement at the thought of heading to Staples to pick up the items on his "required" list (5 yellow pencils--sharpened, one yellow highlighter, 2 glue sticks). His favorite color is yellow, so that combined with his love of office supplies made school shopping with him a treat. L of course had to get in on the action and was very excited to get his very own blue pencil box, glue, and scissors-the nemeses of every 3 year old. The only hard part for G was trying to control his excitement last night to get to sleep. Poor kid was out of bed every 15 minutes to tell me "I'm too excited to sleep". As a mother, and a self-admitted control freak, I wanted to badly to be able to be able to fix this for him-to give him the tools to manage his emotion and help him get some rest. It took until 10 pm and my final threat, that he wouldn't be able to go to school if he didn't get some sleep to finally get him to settle in. Luckily, he'll run on pure adrenaline today and won't feel the lack of sleep until the long weekend. Though I'm sitting behind my desk today, my mind is with my heart today off in the big wide world with my boys and not focused on the tasks at hand. First time having a locker, the bathroom down the hall, new wing of school, new friends and classmates. He was one of the smartest in the class last summer, did her lose a step on other kids over the summer? Is he still feeling bad because he's almost 7 and doesn't have any wiggly teeth? And how's baby brother without the big kids? Texts from his nanny tell me he's happy and he's taking over as the "leader" of the pack, but is he lonely? is he sad that he doesn't get to go have big kid experiences? a whole week can go by and he doesn't even leave the street, is he jealous of Grant's world? Is he living the high life of having all the attention for a few hours instead of being dragged around to all of G's things? My mind is supposed to be on planning a retreat for my students, students who are living through their own transitions right now. I'm supposed to help guide them and help them thrive. My role is the same in the life of my little, big, and work-kids right now. I'm a busy mommy and nothing makes me happier. All the same, I'm counting the hours until I can leave and go pick up my big kid from the bus and hear ever moment of his first day back, my college kids will just have to wait a few more hours for their attention!

On Saturday, we take apart the crib.  The crib that has been in my house since the day we moved in.  But life goes on and Luke is three, meaning it is more than time for him to be in his big boy bed.  But it's not just the crib that goes, it's the rocking chair that will find a new place somewhere in my house. This is the chair where I rocked and rocked and rocked sleepy babies, crying babies, where we shared some of our most special times.  Those middle of the night nursing sessions where we both fought for consciousness, where I held poor reflux ridden Grant for an extra 20 minutes after ever feeding in hopes to help him get some pain free sleep, where I dreamed of both of them sleeping through the night (10 months old for Grant, 8 months for Luke), where I realized how cold Massachusetts winters really are, watching the snow fall, where when I realized the time was coming to an end for middle of the night and early morning nursing time and desperately wanted to hold on to those moments for just a few more days, because though i was a mess all day at work, at 2:30 am, the street was quiet, the house was quiet, the whole world was quiet and it was just me and my sweet baby boy-the only two people in the world.  Luke still wakes up at least twice a week because he can't find blankie mixed in his crib with a thousand stuffed animals (seriously, it's like the Bronx Zoo in there!)  and though I hate jumping up and running down the hall, there is something seriously wonderful about being with him in the middle of the night, when it's still just us awake in the world and I'm the only one on earth who could fill his needs, just like those nights all those months ago when mama could sit in the rocking chair and make everything right with a little midnight snack and a snuggle.  So on Saturday, when the "PS" man comes and brings the big boy bed and the crib goes away forever I'll be sad, but excited for the joy a big boy bed will bring my littlest man.  But that rocking chair, that will stay in the house.  And we'll read books there, and let Pumpkin the worlds largest bear keep it warm for us.  We'll pull it out for visiting babies to have a snuggle in.  I'll tell the story of how it came to us from a dear friend in high school who was getting ready to leave for college and so her mother was selling her house and everything in it to travel the world.  As I loaded it into my car, she had a look of wistfulness in her eye and told me of her late nights rocking her only child in the chair on those cold Maine nights and telling her toddler stories of adventure and fun and caring and love.  She couldn't have imagined 15 year old Heather, who she taught with ease Algebra and with agony Geometry, someday rocking her two beautiful babies.  But old things have new lives and stories to tell and now this old chair has held generations of mothers and babies who are now adults thinking of children of their own and two little boys still filled with wonder and someday I hope the chair will have a new life of its own, perhaps as I rock my own granddaughters giving their weary parents a nights sleep.  Because life moves on and we're lucky for each and every moment in time and I'll do my best to remember each of these "magic moments".

My best friend Jeniffer shared this poem with me when our boys were younger and sleep came for us in shorter blocks and phone calls (and showers!) were even more rare.  And today as I think about sorting out and packing up the last time sticks with me...I'm rocking my babies and babies don't keep.  And neither do preschoolers and 1st graders!

"Babies Don’t Keep"

Mother, O Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing, make up the bed,
Sew on a button and butter the bread.

Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I’ve grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,
Lullabye, rockabye, lullabye loo.
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo

The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo
Look! Aren’t his eyes the most wonderful hue?
Lullabye, rockaby lullabye loo.

The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow
But children grow up as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.

 Author: Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

Adding this video special for Auntie Emilie.  Both of my boys are obsessed with Taylor Swift.  It's all they'll listen to in the car.  Luke is stuck on the song "Trouble" and it's adorable to see him, wherever he is, start thinking about it and just start singing/yelling "Trouble, Trouble, OH!" at the top of his lungs.  He was doing it the whole time we were in Disney.  Showing him the video on YouTube was all that got me through one particularly difficult meltdown.

Grant changes it up between what his favorite song is of the moment.  I suppose he's predisposed to being at TSwift fan since our special song, the one I've been singing to him since near the day he was born is "The Best Day".  Take a listen, I've now got a five year old, and it's remarkable how perfect the song captures motherhood.  But, Grant's favorite songs waffle between "We are Never, Ever Getting Back Together", "Twenty Two" and "Begin Again", which is the song of the week.  We took this video a few months ago in the "Never Getting Back Together" stage because he knows Auntie Em is also a fan of Taylor and he wanted to share his love with her.  Hope you enjoy Emilie!  You might be far in distance, but you and all of his Aunties are never far from his heart!

PS. Luke helped me record this fine piece of video.  You can hear him yelling "Cheese" in the background, because he loves the camera and thinks I'm taking his photo!

I've got the best husband in the world!  I'm loving my new Taylor Swift cd!  Don't listen when the world tells you that romance is dead-it comes from the joy of listening to a 20 year old whine about heartbreak.  Dear Girl Taylor, you haven't known heartbreak yet.  But I like your fun popish CD and crack up listening to Grant sing "We're Never, Ever, Ever Getting Back Together".  He even used the phrase earbug today.  He's the world's most amazing, silly, nearly five year old!  Dear Boy Taylor, thanks for indulging my inner child with silly country-pop music.  I'll indulge your inner child too, we should totally go to Disney World soon! 

And that friends, is the key to a successful marriage.

It feels like a case of the Mondays.  But, if it is every Monday, is it something more? 

oh the what if game...what if I didn't take the long way today?  what if I didn't stop for a coffee?  what if I took the extra time to read the story?  if I didn't work a million hours a year?  what if I stayed home more?  if I laughed more?  if instead of piling up the paperwork and emails, i piled up paintings and library books?  what if it is time for a change?  sometimes we have to work through all of the what ifs before we're ready to make a move.  sometimes the lack of change is the change.  sometimes we have to jump on the opportunities we didn't see coming.  sometimes we don't over think everything we do and just jump and wait and see what we hit below.  sometimes we get surprised.  sometimes we break our legs.

sometimes it doesn't make a difference.  you open yourself up at the strangest of moments and then you wait.  because what is the harm in asking?  what is the worst case scenario?  can being honest put you in a position worse than you were?  does saying the words out loud help take the weight off your shoulders even if the situation hasn't changed?  does sharing the burden make it lighter?  who knows what will happen next?  who knows which of the what ifs matter.  time knows I suppose and she's really the only one who can tell us where we'll end up.  but when it's all said and done, my guess is the questions we ask and the secrets we tell are the ones that make all the difference in the end. 

I'm a consumer of the Internet.  I always have been.  Perhaps it is because I use it so often in the day at work.  or because I use the computer in the evening as a method to prevent me from falling asleep on the couch five minutes after the last baby is in bed.  Regardless, I spend a lot of my day connecting with the world through my computer.  I like Facebook to reconnect, share photos and silly statues updates.  To hear about the world of my friends and family.  And through the years I've found a few bloggers who I regularly frequent simply because I like their writing style.  I like the blond princess food blogger because her recipes are fun and easy and kid friendly.  I like the woman who draws silly cartoons to go with the stories she tells because they're funny and because she's sarcastic and gets through the day with humor, much the same way I survive.  And then there is Stacie.

I've been reading Stacie's blog for at least three or four years.  I'm not sure how I landed there the first time, but she had me at hello.  She's a "mommy" blogger I suppose as she's a stay at home mother of four living somewhere in Idaho.  We've got a whole lot of nothing in common, but her drew me in immediately.  Perhaps it is because Grant is the same age as one of her children and I could relate.  Perhaps it is because she speaks so often of adoption, as someone who gave up a child and adopted a child and that's something I closely identify with.  Regardless, I have watched her children grow up through pictures and stories and followed the deep feelings she expressed a few times a week.  And today, I had tears in my eyes as I read her post.  Long about the time I lost our baby, a tube, a good shot at ever having another baby Stacie had her youngest son Nate.  And there were complications.  and they went on for over a year.  and they told her after the second surgery that if she ever had another pregnancy it would probably be an ectopic and she'd lose the baby and risk her health.  and following the third surgery, they told her not to worry about that anymore, because she would probably never be able to get pregnant at all.  And she morned that loss-not of a lost child-of the option to have more babies.  to feel at your core what makes you a mother.  and I mourned with her as I was mourning the loss of my child-who I had grown inside of me but couldn't protect and save.  the baby that died and took with her the promise of more children and so very much of who I am as a person.  Because no one in my real world could relate to this unbearable pain, this weight that I still carry with me daily for the love of my child I never got to hold.  I would have loved to have a person who I could call and tell the torture I was living through every day, but people don't understand.  The things that some of my closest friends and family said in an effort to make me feel better cut more than I ever knew words could.  "It's okay, there will be other babies" or "People have miscarriages-you'll be fine" or "You're lucky to have lost the baby, something was probably wrong with it anyway".  The number of inaccuracies in those statements are too numerous to even discuss, but there is something medical inaccuracy with each I assure you.  And so as I retreated into myself and away from the harshly-helpful words of the world, it was comforting to know I wasn't completely alone.  and as I watched Stacie go through her journey of pain and acceptance, I was going through my own journey of fighting infertility and dreaming that I might someday meet another child of my own.  And then, a lifetime later, the surprise and fear that came in the moment the stick was blue and told me I was pregnant.  The doctors words echoing in my ears-"call immediately when you get a positive pregnancy test.  we need to monitor you carefully, the likelihood that you have another ectopic is much higher then in other people.  Tell my nurses when you call that I told you that I want to see you immediately."  The excitement of the moment turned to unyielding fear.  How long I had longed for a positive test and how quickly the euphoria turned to fear.  And going in for the first ultrasound, remembering how I had been in that room years before, with the same tech no less, and instead of seeing the joy seeing an empty womb.  I could barely sit as she prepared. I wanted to be sick.  I wanted to run and not find out the answers she was going to give me, knowing I wasn't strong enough to survive a second time.  and the moment we saw that flicker on the screen, barely 5 weeks old along, at first I didn't believe it.  I was prepared for the pain and the testing and the death.  the idea that i would actually carry this baby to term was almost beyond my wildest dreams, despite the morning sickness and sudden onset of tomato hatred, i saw Luke for the very first time.  Luke, my sweet miracle baby.  And I spent every day of my pregnancy with Luke excited and happy and grateful, and just a little terrified that it wasn't real and I would lose him.  Every day until the day he was born.  It wasn't the same carefree pregnancy I had with Grant, so oblivious to the pain of losing a child.  In so many ways, it was more than I could have hoped for and I was able to appreciate the sheer luck that comes with an easy, healthy pregnancy.

Today, Stacie posted that she'd been sick and didn't think anything of it until she son brushed her breasts and they hurt.  and feeling silly she peed on a stick, never thinking it could really be true.  the joy and then horror that came with the positive pregnancy test.  and the pain that came with waiting for the ultrasound.  and the disbelief at her fifth child growing healthy in her womb, strong heart beat and perfectly sized and placed.  and as she used words like a canvas to paint images of her feelings, fear, elation, I had tears in my eyes as she completed another hurdle to having the child she longed for.  And laughed as she explained the nagging feeling that someone was going to come tell her they were wrong and that it was all going to end and there would be blackness, by using the analogy of an ice cream cone and her youngest child.  Because again, it was nice to have someone more eloquent then me put into words all of the emotions and feelings I had experienced so beautifully.  And this time I know the ending to the 40 weeks of never fully feeling safe.  And for me, his name is Luke and he's an evil genius baby, fearless to the core, lovable and tender and all things wonderful in the world. 

Most of the things you find online are frivolous and silly.  And I spend my time enjoying them as much as the next person.  But today I feel joy for a friend I've never met.  And that makes me a geek, and a little sad to have a connection to a stranger, but mostly just excited to go snuggle my little miracle baby and his crazy older brother and be thankful for the lives that aren't really supposed to be here, because they're some of the greatest kids you'll ever meet!