My life these days is ......... fill in the blank? The best way I know how to describe it is urgent. I wake up with a sense of urgency and go-go-go, and it never stops. I never stop. I am constantly doing, being, seeing, breaking, pouring, bathing, fixing, loving, and on and on. I realized earlier as I was typing up three months worth of updates on the baby of our family that this blog solely consists of monthly baby updates, ha! All of my words floating around my brain are just ... fried? I'm going to make a concerted effort at writing again (just don't hold a gun to my head) ... but it's therapy for me and I need (WANT) to do it. I'm so thankful that even though I haven't written a proper anything in who knows how long, I am still writing about my babies ... because I forget. I have forgotten. And I'm so glad to see it here and remember. Such precious, precious memories and milestones.
Yesterday was Hampton's Halloween party at St. Paul's. He did the "monster wiggle" and ate his weight in candy and had fun with his friends. I got a 75 minutes massage this morning (praise hands!) and then we watched Florida/Georgia and had a family birthday party for Michael. Tomorrow morning is trunk-or-treat at church, then brunch at Grandmommy's, and then pumpkin carving party at our house with our small group (chili, pumpkins, apple cider, and s'mores on the fire pit - so fun!). On Monday, Halloween, Hampton has his costume parade & sing at St. Paul's and then trick or treating later that night. Hampton is a t-rex, Carter is a lion, and Will is a goldfish :) Hampton has recently decided he's not all that into naps and the end of our days tend to be a little on the eek side because of it, so here's to hoping he will want take one tomorrow!
I ordered Carter's birthday party invitations today. His birthday is the day before Thanksgiving this year but his party will be the weekend before. Mark and Kasey (and Kingston) will be here the entire week so we're excited! So much fun to look forward to ...
Showing posts with label on motherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label on motherhood. Show all posts
Saturday, October 29, 2016
Friday, June 10, 2016
For Will ... The Day You Were Born
The background story of Will's birth felt a bit like a game of cat and mouse. From the time of my first doctor's appointment, I believed my due date to be cinco de mayo. I told everyone, "May 5th!" And it wasn't until I was 37 weeks pregnant that I learned my chart had read May 6th the entire time ... and that my ultrasound read May 1st (which subsequently reset my due date). I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes around 30 weeks and knew that unless the baby came on his own (early) I would be induced at 39 weeks (per custom with GD babies). The game of cat and mouse came in with cousin Kingston whose due date was April 17th. I was told there was a high probability I could have Will early and with each passing day, it looked like Kingston was going to be late. Because this was Mark and Kasey's first baby and because they live ten hours away in Nashville, I prayed diligently that God would allow us to have babies far enough apart that my parents would be able to be present for both of us. I jumped off the bridge of anxiety when our inductions were both set for April 25th, but Kasey ended up going into labor on her own the week prior, and Kingston was born on April 20th (my parents driving through the night and arriving in time for his birth!) ... meanwhile (amid a few, "I think I'm going to have this baby today" false alarms), baby Will stayed put and was induced on Tuesday, April 26th ... six days after cousin Kingston and two days after my mom's birthday.
~
Oh, Will. The baby of our family ... the bookend and caboose, our last pregnancy, labor, and delivery. There's something about this knowledge that sets you innately apart ... I have to press that lump in my throat down quite a bit these days as I always hear this voice in the back of my head saying, "the last, this is the last time, the last, the last ..." I hold you in the night a little longer. I press memories into the far corners of my mind. I try and take in your baby smell and the feel of your skin against mine, I press my lips to your downy hair over and again. Of course, I did much of the same with your brothers, drinking in the magic that is all things newborn, but with you comes the voice, "the last..." And so with you, I linger still.
The weekend before you were born I ran around doing funny things, normal things, busy things ... I bought birthday cards and wrapped Mother's Day gifts in advance, drank large bottles of Smart Water so that my body would be well hydrated for labor, had a night out with friends (where we gorged ourselves on fajitas and salsa - totally busting up the diabetic diet), and one last date with your dad. Your Grammy and Poppy left Memphis on Sunday night and spent the night with Loren and Matt in Birmingham before driving to Florida on Monday. Your Honey and Granddaddy left Nashville very early on Monday with Jeremy Scroggie in tow (they met Donna in Chattanooga with his new car and Donna drove back to Florida with your grandparents). No one told me of this plan way in advance because I'm pretty sure they knew I would have lost my marbles if I knew that not only were my parents ten hours away ... but so was my breathing coach! Thankfully, the contractions that I had for hours on Monday were nothing a few large bottles of water couldn't handle (totally stopping any signs of labor for good) and everyone made it back to Ocala in time. Kathy came to stay with us on Monday afternoon while your dad was finishing up some work and helped with your brothers while I tried to breathe through mild contractions. We ordered Latinos for dinner and my last meal pre-labor was a chicken taco salad. No eating after midnight when you face induction the next day.
After dinner I was adamant that everyone go to bed early. I was up laboring the entire night before Carter was born and it made that day so much harder physically. I wanted to rest as much as I could, so I ran a hot bath and texted my prayer warriors to pray for my peace of mind. I felt so anxious going into induction because I had been down that road twice and I knew how difficult it would be. I was determined to do it without the epidural as I had already done it with your brothers, but the difference this time around was knowing "too much." Sometimes ignorance is bliss, ha! I prayed a lot ... asking God for strength and wisdom and for an abundance of grace. I think I was also a little nervous about Carter ... being only 17 months and still a baby himself, I wanted him to feel secure (even in the midst of his world getting rocked).
On Tuesday, April 26th your dad and I woke up at 5 a.m. and tried to convince the other into getting into the shower first. I lost. After getting ready, I packed the remaining supplies in my suitcase ... specifically, the essentials: gummies, Gatorade, and Kind granola bars (for the ravenous hunger I had learned with the previous two would appear in the night after delivering a baby). Grammy and Poppy arrived around 6:20 (they were staying with Stephen) and your dad and I were off. Once at the hospital, I was dropped off on the curb with my suitcase while your dad went to park the car. I walked in to Admitting and checked myself in. As I was standing at the check-in counter The Spinners "I'll be Around" came on and it became the background music of your birth as I had it stuck in my head off and on for the rest of the day. Listening to the words several weeks later, I kind of loved that it was the music spinning around in my head that day. Apropos.
After we received our hospital bracelets, we made the trek to labor and delivery ... down the hall, up to the 4th floor, through the security doors and to the front desk of L and D. We checked into labor room #2, took some pictures, got dressed in the green designer gown (and the same blue and white socks I wore while laboring with Carter), and texted family and friends to say we had arrived. We really did have the dream team of nurses as all of our favorites were on shift this particular Tuesday (Kristine the charge nurse, Melanie - our favorite who helped with Hampton's delivery, and Tracey - the baby nurse and family friend) and I felt so much relief in this. Kris started my IV around 7 a.m. to start pumping me with fluid and around 7:45 when Dr. Hunt came in with Donna we started the Pitocin. I was already far enough along (over 50% effaced and dilated a few centimeters) so Dr. Hunt said that after he rounded he would come back and break my water - I couldn't believe it. It had taken me hours on Pitocin with the first two before he broke my water so I felt this little thrill that this labor was going to go much quicker (joke on me).
Around 8:30 that morning Dr. Hunt came back and broke my water. I was ready for what I was sure was headed my way ... total and complete intensity ... and yet, nothing. I had mild contractions on and off throughout the morning, but nothing to write home about. My parents arrived at 8:45 and Mel brought me some ice chips at 9:20. Around 9:35 Kathy arrived and I talked and texted and laughed at why it was almost 10 and I was still feeling next to nothing. Grandmommy came to visit at some point and I let her read the letter regarding your name ... that you were her namesake. She sat in the chair and cried and cried. I loved being able to give her that gift. Around 11 I was online ordering stride rite shoes for Hampton and Carter and Dr. Hunt came back at 12 and couldn't believe that I was walking the halls and bouncing on the birthing ball and seemingly ... in no labor whatsoever. A little after 1, your dad came back from the hospital cafeteria with a buffalo chicken wrap and Dr. Hunt checked me again. I still hadn't really dilated but was mostly effaced and beginning to feel more pressure...and more pressure and more pressure. By 3 p.m. I was 4 cm but it was determined I wasn't making progress because the baby was posterior (I was later told if the baby had been in the correct position from the get go I would have had him much sooner in the day). I told the nurses to tilt my bed until I was in a sitting position in order to put ample pressure and ensure the baby's head was moving down. Because of the posterior position I felt major contractions in my back, but sitting up helped so much more that being flat in the bed.
By 4:45 I had progressed to 7 cm and when she checked me I started to cry ... I always cry when I get close to transition for the simple joy of knowing "almost there..." Because of how quickly my body moves through transition, by 5 p.m. Carol (the nurse from nursery) had come in to set everything up for the delivery. At 5:25 p.m. I was at 8 cm and breathing through each contraction with Donna. If she left my side (or anyone left my side) I would snap my right fingers together to get attention and grab onto her (or someone else's) hand just as another contraction would start. They all laughed after the fact because I was snapping my fingers non-stop but I couldn't talk and didn't have the strength or energy for anything else so snapping it was! Dr. Hunt came in and started to get the room ready, checked me at 9 cm and turned the baby's head and with that ... I was at 10. With Paul holding one hand and Donna holding the other, my parents behind me and Kathy beside Paul ... with one push, William Lane Bruce was born at exactly 6 p.m. I laugh now because Donna kept putting an oxygen mask on my face as I was getting ready to push and as he was delivered ... and my first memory of Will's actual birth is of Dr. Hunt saying, "Donna, get that mask off of her and let her see the baby!!" Laugh out loud! Just like them ... hilarious :) I just remember saying, "William!" when Dr. Hunt held you up ... and squeezing your dad's hand. I love the look that I have gotten to see on your dad's face three different times now ... the moment you (and your older brothers) have come into the world. The purest love and awe and adoration. We love you so, so much.
Post delivery, you were taken over to the warming lights and the entire crew followed you. Kathy and Donna stayed with me but your dad told me from across the room that you were 6 pounds, 8 ounces and 20" long. It was later determined you were only 18.5" long. A peanut! With so much dark hair. Around 6:30 Grammy and Poppy and uncle Stephen, Grandmommy and Granddaddy all came in to meet you. Everyone commented about your hair and that you looked like Hampton's baby pictures. At 7:15 my dad came back with a #1 from chick-fil-a and I think I ate it all in a record four minutes. I was SO hungry! A little afterward your dad came back in with Hampton and Carter (they had been with Ms. Amber that afternoon) and they were wearing their big brother shirts and taking it all in! Hampton had been talking about coming to the hospital for weeks ... he was so excited to finally meet you. Carter, of course, wasn't quite sure what was going on but he pointed to you and said, "baby!" and tried to swat at your head ... we said, "softly, Carter!" I let Hampton pick out blue cupcakes at the Publix several days prior to your birth and we brought them out and had a little birth day party. I nursed you and held you for a long time and then gave you back to the nurse.
After several minutes when the baby nurse had checked your blood she let us know that your sugar was a 36 and they like for it to be 40 at birth, so they said you would be going to the nursery to be under a warming light and for extra monitoring. You would also receive a special caloric formula for the next 18 hours after I nursed you every several hours. My heart broke knowing I would be away from you but I knew you were in good hands and I prayed your sugar levels would rise appropriately. At 8 p.m. Tracey wheeled us up to room 492 (the suite was under renovation) and nurse Karren (from Jamaica - loved her!) was on duty. Your dad took your brothers (and Grammy and Poppy) back to our house to get them ready for bed and I drank 100 cranberry juice cups and talked to your Honey and Granddaddy. You were in the nursery and my arms ached wanting to hold you. Around 9:30 your daddy came back and your grandparents went home. We called the nurse in the nursery and she said we could come visit you and give you your next formula bottle. The wheelchair arrived and your dad wheeled me down the corridor and through the thick metal doors. The nurse handed you to me and I gave you your bottle while listening to all of the night duty nurses talk about how crazy it was that there had been so many deliveries in the last several hours ... they were all in overdrive. After you passed your next sugar test you were able to have a bath and they brought you to me at 1:30 in the morning to eat and stay with us. The nurses did the rest of your tests and monitoring in our room. Yay! My one recollection about this night was your dad carrying on a conversation with nurse Karren (who had gone to nursing school in Memphis) about barbeque. At 3 in the morning. A-typical.
I probably slept 2 hours that first night because my adrenaline was pumping so hard. I ate gummies at 2 something in the morning and that probably didn't help the situation either. Your grandmother arrived bright and early the next morning with beautiful flowers and a sweet bib and helped us get situated. Lots of family and friends were in and out throughout the day ... both sets of grandparents, Grandmommy, uncle David and aunt Kio, Rebecca, Kathy, Josh and Cassidy Robinson, Shana (with Delaney, Jackson and Brantley), Joy and Carli, Brittany Stein, Dr. Hunt and Alice, and nurse Melanie. Your big brothers came back up around dinner and we had pizza to celebrate. You passed all of your sugar tests throughout the day and by that evening we were able to completely stop with the formula bottles and continue nursing exclusively.
One of my favorite parts of the day was when Melanie came in. She was my nurse for 12 hours the day of your birthday and 12 hours the day of Hampton's and she found out that my maiden name was Hagood and came to ask us if we were related to Dr. Hagood. I said that yes, he was my grandfather and Hampton Scott's namesake. She came to tell us that when her parents were 17 and 18 years old and newly married and dirt poor and new to town without a dentist, it had been Dr. Hagood who had met them in his office on a Saturday morning to help her mom with a toothache. He had also refused payment. Melanie said with tears in her eyes that it was something her parents had never forgotten and still talked about, and then she said, you must be so proud of him....
Kindness has a way of coming full circle, doesn't it? All of these years later the daughter of these two that my grandfather had helped ... helped bring two of his great-grandsons into this world. I love, love that.
Our second night was a little more on the rough side as you were wide awake for most of it and I had only gotten two hours of sleep the night before. But we survived :) I could not get comfortable in the hospital bed and somewhere around 3 a.m. began to long for my own!
On Thursday, Alice came in fairly early and signed all of my discharge papers so that we would be able to leave that afternoon. Your dad was ready to jet! Haha. Honey came up and helped us pack up our room and I couldn't believe the time had come, we were taking our last sweet baby home from the hospital. We dressed you in the same heirloom blue gown that both of your big brothers wore home and wrapped you in the same white blanket. The wheelchair arrived, the nurse put you in my arms, and off we went ... down the hall and elevator and out the large sliding doors to the new family mini van (with three car seats in the middle row!). I sat next to you on the way home and you were good as gold. We got home during nap time but Hampton had known of your imminent arrival and nixed the heck out of that nap. He ran into the garage to greet you - so happy you had finally come home.
That makes all of us, Will. So happy you're home. With your birth and presence in our lives ... our family of five is perfectly complete.
You have completed us.
We love you to the moon and back, and then some.
~
Oh, Will. The baby of our family ... the bookend and caboose, our last pregnancy, labor, and delivery. There's something about this knowledge that sets you innately apart ... I have to press that lump in my throat down quite a bit these days as I always hear this voice in the back of my head saying, "the last, this is the last time, the last, the last ..." I hold you in the night a little longer. I press memories into the far corners of my mind. I try and take in your baby smell and the feel of your skin against mine, I press my lips to your downy hair over and again. Of course, I did much of the same with your brothers, drinking in the magic that is all things newborn, but with you comes the voice, "the last..." And so with you, I linger still.
The weekend before you were born I ran around doing funny things, normal things, busy things ... I bought birthday cards and wrapped Mother's Day gifts in advance, drank large bottles of Smart Water so that my body would be well hydrated for labor, had a night out with friends (where we gorged ourselves on fajitas and salsa - totally busting up the diabetic diet), and one last date with your dad. Your Grammy and Poppy left Memphis on Sunday night and spent the night with Loren and Matt in Birmingham before driving to Florida on Monday. Your Honey and Granddaddy left Nashville very early on Monday with Jeremy Scroggie in tow (they met Donna in Chattanooga with his new car and Donna drove back to Florida with your grandparents). No one told me of this plan way in advance because I'm pretty sure they knew I would have lost my marbles if I knew that not only were my parents ten hours away ... but so was my breathing coach! Thankfully, the contractions that I had for hours on Monday were nothing a few large bottles of water couldn't handle (totally stopping any signs of labor for good) and everyone made it back to Ocala in time. Kathy came to stay with us on Monday afternoon while your dad was finishing up some work and helped with your brothers while I tried to breathe through mild contractions. We ordered Latinos for dinner and my last meal pre-labor was a chicken taco salad. No eating after midnight when you face induction the next day.
After dinner I was adamant that everyone go to bed early. I was up laboring the entire night before Carter was born and it made that day so much harder physically. I wanted to rest as much as I could, so I ran a hot bath and texted my prayer warriors to pray for my peace of mind. I felt so anxious going into induction because I had been down that road twice and I knew how difficult it would be. I was determined to do it without the epidural as I had already done it with your brothers, but the difference this time around was knowing "too much." Sometimes ignorance is bliss, ha! I prayed a lot ... asking God for strength and wisdom and for an abundance of grace. I think I was also a little nervous about Carter ... being only 17 months and still a baby himself, I wanted him to feel secure (even in the midst of his world getting rocked).
On Tuesday, April 26th your dad and I woke up at 5 a.m. and tried to convince the other into getting into the shower first. I lost. After getting ready, I packed the remaining supplies in my suitcase ... specifically, the essentials: gummies, Gatorade, and Kind granola bars (for the ravenous hunger I had learned with the previous two would appear in the night after delivering a baby). Grammy and Poppy arrived around 6:20 (they were staying with Stephen) and your dad and I were off. Once at the hospital, I was dropped off on the curb with my suitcase while your dad went to park the car. I walked in to Admitting and checked myself in. As I was standing at the check-in counter The Spinners "I'll be Around" came on and it became the background music of your birth as I had it stuck in my head off and on for the rest of the day. Listening to the words several weeks later, I kind of loved that it was the music spinning around in my head that day. Apropos.
After we received our hospital bracelets, we made the trek to labor and delivery ... down the hall, up to the 4th floor, through the security doors and to the front desk of L and D. We checked into labor room #2, took some pictures, got dressed in the green designer gown (and the same blue and white socks I wore while laboring with Carter), and texted family and friends to say we had arrived. We really did have the dream team of nurses as all of our favorites were on shift this particular Tuesday (Kristine the charge nurse, Melanie - our favorite who helped with Hampton's delivery, and Tracey - the baby nurse and family friend) and I felt so much relief in this. Kris started my IV around 7 a.m. to start pumping me with fluid and around 7:45 when Dr. Hunt came in with Donna we started the Pitocin. I was already far enough along (over 50% effaced and dilated a few centimeters) so Dr. Hunt said that after he rounded he would come back and break my water - I couldn't believe it. It had taken me hours on Pitocin with the first two before he broke my water so I felt this little thrill that this labor was going to go much quicker (joke on me).
Around 8:30 that morning Dr. Hunt came back and broke my water. I was ready for what I was sure was headed my way ... total and complete intensity ... and yet, nothing. I had mild contractions on and off throughout the morning, but nothing to write home about. My parents arrived at 8:45 and Mel brought me some ice chips at 9:20. Around 9:35 Kathy arrived and I talked and texted and laughed at why it was almost 10 and I was still feeling next to nothing. Grandmommy came to visit at some point and I let her read the letter regarding your name ... that you were her namesake. She sat in the chair and cried and cried. I loved being able to give her that gift. Around 11 I was online ordering stride rite shoes for Hampton and Carter and Dr. Hunt came back at 12 and couldn't believe that I was walking the halls and bouncing on the birthing ball and seemingly ... in no labor whatsoever. A little after 1, your dad came back from the hospital cafeteria with a buffalo chicken wrap and Dr. Hunt checked me again. I still hadn't really dilated but was mostly effaced and beginning to feel more pressure...and more pressure and more pressure. By 3 p.m. I was 4 cm but it was determined I wasn't making progress because the baby was posterior (I was later told if the baby had been in the correct position from the get go I would have had him much sooner in the day). I told the nurses to tilt my bed until I was in a sitting position in order to put ample pressure and ensure the baby's head was moving down. Because of the posterior position I felt major contractions in my back, but sitting up helped so much more that being flat in the bed.
By 4:45 I had progressed to 7 cm and when she checked me I started to cry ... I always cry when I get close to transition for the simple joy of knowing "almost there..." Because of how quickly my body moves through transition, by 5 p.m. Carol (the nurse from nursery) had come in to set everything up for the delivery. At 5:25 p.m. I was at 8 cm and breathing through each contraction with Donna. If she left my side (or anyone left my side) I would snap my right fingers together to get attention and grab onto her (or someone else's) hand just as another contraction would start. They all laughed after the fact because I was snapping my fingers non-stop but I couldn't talk and didn't have the strength or energy for anything else so snapping it was! Dr. Hunt came in and started to get the room ready, checked me at 9 cm and turned the baby's head and with that ... I was at 10. With Paul holding one hand and Donna holding the other, my parents behind me and Kathy beside Paul ... with one push, William Lane Bruce was born at exactly 6 p.m. I laugh now because Donna kept putting an oxygen mask on my face as I was getting ready to push and as he was delivered ... and my first memory of Will's actual birth is of Dr. Hunt saying, "Donna, get that mask off of her and let her see the baby!!" Laugh out loud! Just like them ... hilarious :) I just remember saying, "William!" when Dr. Hunt held you up ... and squeezing your dad's hand. I love the look that I have gotten to see on your dad's face three different times now ... the moment you (and your older brothers) have come into the world. The purest love and awe and adoration. We love you so, so much.
Post delivery, you were taken over to the warming lights and the entire crew followed you. Kathy and Donna stayed with me but your dad told me from across the room that you were 6 pounds, 8 ounces and 20" long. It was later determined you were only 18.5" long. A peanut! With so much dark hair. Around 6:30 Grammy and Poppy and uncle Stephen, Grandmommy and Granddaddy all came in to meet you. Everyone commented about your hair and that you looked like Hampton's baby pictures. At 7:15 my dad came back with a #1 from chick-fil-a and I think I ate it all in a record four minutes. I was SO hungry! A little afterward your dad came back in with Hampton and Carter (they had been with Ms. Amber that afternoon) and they were wearing their big brother shirts and taking it all in! Hampton had been talking about coming to the hospital for weeks ... he was so excited to finally meet you. Carter, of course, wasn't quite sure what was going on but he pointed to you and said, "baby!" and tried to swat at your head ... we said, "softly, Carter!" I let Hampton pick out blue cupcakes at the Publix several days prior to your birth and we brought them out and had a little birth day party. I nursed you and held you for a long time and then gave you back to the nurse.
After several minutes when the baby nurse had checked your blood she let us know that your sugar was a 36 and they like for it to be 40 at birth, so they said you would be going to the nursery to be under a warming light and for extra monitoring. You would also receive a special caloric formula for the next 18 hours after I nursed you every several hours. My heart broke knowing I would be away from you but I knew you were in good hands and I prayed your sugar levels would rise appropriately. At 8 p.m. Tracey wheeled us up to room 492 (the suite was under renovation) and nurse Karren (from Jamaica - loved her!) was on duty. Your dad took your brothers (and Grammy and Poppy) back to our house to get them ready for bed and I drank 100 cranberry juice cups and talked to your Honey and Granddaddy. You were in the nursery and my arms ached wanting to hold you. Around 9:30 your daddy came back and your grandparents went home. We called the nurse in the nursery and she said we could come visit you and give you your next formula bottle. The wheelchair arrived and your dad wheeled me down the corridor and through the thick metal doors. The nurse handed you to me and I gave you your bottle while listening to all of the night duty nurses talk about how crazy it was that there had been so many deliveries in the last several hours ... they were all in overdrive. After you passed your next sugar test you were able to have a bath and they brought you to me at 1:30 in the morning to eat and stay with us. The nurses did the rest of your tests and monitoring in our room. Yay! My one recollection about this night was your dad carrying on a conversation with nurse Karren (who had gone to nursing school in Memphis) about barbeque. At 3 in the morning. A-typical.
I probably slept 2 hours that first night because my adrenaline was pumping so hard. I ate gummies at 2 something in the morning and that probably didn't help the situation either. Your grandmother arrived bright and early the next morning with beautiful flowers and a sweet bib and helped us get situated. Lots of family and friends were in and out throughout the day ... both sets of grandparents, Grandmommy, uncle David and aunt Kio, Rebecca, Kathy, Josh and Cassidy Robinson, Shana (with Delaney, Jackson and Brantley), Joy and Carli, Brittany Stein, Dr. Hunt and Alice, and nurse Melanie. Your big brothers came back up around dinner and we had pizza to celebrate. You passed all of your sugar tests throughout the day and by that evening we were able to completely stop with the formula bottles and continue nursing exclusively.
One of my favorite parts of the day was when Melanie came in. She was my nurse for 12 hours the day of your birthday and 12 hours the day of Hampton's and she found out that my maiden name was Hagood and came to ask us if we were related to Dr. Hagood. I said that yes, he was my grandfather and Hampton Scott's namesake. She came to tell us that when her parents were 17 and 18 years old and newly married and dirt poor and new to town without a dentist, it had been Dr. Hagood who had met them in his office on a Saturday morning to help her mom with a toothache. He had also refused payment. Melanie said with tears in her eyes that it was something her parents had never forgotten and still talked about, and then she said, you must be so proud of him....
Kindness has a way of coming full circle, doesn't it? All of these years later the daughter of these two that my grandfather had helped ... helped bring two of his great-grandsons into this world. I love, love that.
Our second night was a little more on the rough side as you were wide awake for most of it and I had only gotten two hours of sleep the night before. But we survived :) I could not get comfortable in the hospital bed and somewhere around 3 a.m. began to long for my own!
On Thursday, Alice came in fairly early and signed all of my discharge papers so that we would be able to leave that afternoon. Your dad was ready to jet! Haha. Honey came up and helped us pack up our room and I couldn't believe the time had come, we were taking our last sweet baby home from the hospital. We dressed you in the same heirloom blue gown that both of your big brothers wore home and wrapped you in the same white blanket. The wheelchair arrived, the nurse put you in my arms, and off we went ... down the hall and elevator and out the large sliding doors to the new family mini van (with three car seats in the middle row!). I sat next to you on the way home and you were good as gold. We got home during nap time but Hampton had known of your imminent arrival and nixed the heck out of that nap. He ran into the garage to greet you - so happy you had finally come home.
That makes all of us, Will. So happy you're home. With your birth and presence in our lives ... our family of five is perfectly complete.
You have completed us.
We love you to the moon and back, and then some.
Monday, May 09, 2016
Welcoming William
We are nearly two weeks in to our party of five and the ease of the adjustment has taken me by surprise every single day. Sweet William is the third baby that everyone said he would be ... So calm, so laid back and go with the flow, can sleep through anything, sleeps all the time, dream of a newborn. He probably sleeps more than I do because he's my last and there's something about knowing I will never hold a tiny baby against my chest in the night again ... That trumps sleep. He has slipped into the folds of our family so seamlessly it seems he has always been with us.
Hampton and Carter have done really well with the baby ... Hampton is naturally more intrigued than Carter but Carter likes to stand on the stool when I change his diaper and give him his sink baths. He points at him throughout the day and says, "baby! Baby!" It has been so nice to have a baby with warm spring/summer months upon us and days that see sunshine forever ... Both of my others were winter babies and it's nice to be able to send them out the back door at 9 in the morning in bathing suits and let them play all morning in the sun with their water tables and sprinklers while baby #3 is asleep. Our friends have been so sweet, bringing dinners nearly every other night and coming to see the baby. There is nothing better than a warm meal arriving on your doorstep at 5 in the evening when you're recovering from having a baby. It really is comfort in its richest, purest form.
We dedicated Will yesterday, on Mother's Day. He was 12 days old and too teensy for either of his brother's dedication wear so he wore the baby blue gown he came home from the hospital in. We had lunch at mom and dad's afterward with the extended family. Hampton gave me a key chain that he made for me at St. Paul's and it might be my key chain for the rest of my life :) I love it. He also gave me a little bag and his teacher helped him write what he loves about his mommy ... My bag says, "I love to give mommy hugs."
Wish I could bottle up these days ... The sweetest of my life.
Hampton and Carter have done really well with the baby ... Hampton is naturally more intrigued than Carter but Carter likes to stand on the stool when I change his diaper and give him his sink baths. He points at him throughout the day and says, "baby! Baby!" It has been so nice to have a baby with warm spring/summer months upon us and days that see sunshine forever ... Both of my others were winter babies and it's nice to be able to send them out the back door at 9 in the morning in bathing suits and let them play all morning in the sun with their water tables and sprinklers while baby #3 is asleep. Our friends have been so sweet, bringing dinners nearly every other night and coming to see the baby. There is nothing better than a warm meal arriving on your doorstep at 5 in the evening when you're recovering from having a baby. It really is comfort in its richest, purest form.
We dedicated Will yesterday, on Mother's Day. He was 12 days old and too teensy for either of his brother's dedication wear so he wore the baby blue gown he came home from the hospital in. We had lunch at mom and dad's afterward with the extended family. Hampton gave me a key chain that he made for me at St. Paul's and it might be my key chain for the rest of my life :) I love it. He also gave me a little bag and his teacher helped him write what he loves about his mommy ... My bag says, "I love to give mommy hugs."
Wish I could bottle up these days ... The sweetest of my life.
Thursday, January 07, 2016
On Remembering & Goals
I always thought that I would remember details and days and moments, but it seems the more details and days and moments there are to remember, the easier they are to forget. I'm so thankful that I started blogging so many years ago for this reason and I'm so thankful to continue doing it today ... even though it's not very often :/ The boys are at the sweetest ages and yet the days are so long and they all run together and unless I write it down (type it!) ... it escapes.
One of my goals for 2016 is to continue to write ... as much as possible. Writing to remember, but also writing because it frees me up. Makes me a little more sane, if anything. I'm trying to cook more too. I feel like last year was a wash in the cooking department ... I wanted to do it, but trying to cook with a colicky baby ... is for the birds ... and trying to cook while pregnant with severe food aversion + nausea ... is also for the birds :) But I feel like the one year mark is always a good milestone for our family life, I remember it with Hampton and it feels the same with Carter ... life kind of hits more of a routine (sleeping 12+ hours at night, scheduled naps during the day, no longer nursing, more independant play, etc.) ... everything sort of falls into place ... so I'm going to cook my heart out until May when we resort to frozen pizza and take-out again ;) I want to read over the next few months. My book club read Kristin Hannah's The Nightingale several months ago and it was so good ... stayed with me kind of good. I recommend it!
I think, most of all, I want to remember that these years with these boys are so short. That of anything I could focus on in 2016, any goal, any word, any verse ... it would be about that ... loving my people, honoring my God, and doing the best I can each day ... no matter how many trains get flushed down the toilet or how many balls go flying through the air threatening to take out everything in their path ... I just want to be all in. I want to love well, live well, and give well.
That's the goal.
One of my goals for 2016 is to continue to write ... as much as possible. Writing to remember, but also writing because it frees me up. Makes me a little more sane, if anything. I'm trying to cook more too. I feel like last year was a wash in the cooking department ... I wanted to do it, but trying to cook with a colicky baby ... is for the birds ... and trying to cook while pregnant with severe food aversion + nausea ... is also for the birds :) But I feel like the one year mark is always a good milestone for our family life, I remember it with Hampton and it feels the same with Carter ... life kind of hits more of a routine (sleeping 12+ hours at night, scheduled naps during the day, no longer nursing, more independant play, etc.) ... everything sort of falls into place ... so I'm going to cook my heart out until May when we resort to frozen pizza and take-out again ;) I want to read over the next few months. My book club read Kristin Hannah's The Nightingale several months ago and it was so good ... stayed with me kind of good. I recommend it!
I think, most of all, I want to remember that these years with these boys are so short. That of anything I could focus on in 2016, any goal, any word, any verse ... it would be about that ... loving my people, honoring my God, and doing the best I can each day ... no matter how many trains get flushed down the toilet or how many balls go flying through the air threatening to take out everything in their path ... I just want to be all in. I want to love well, live well, and give well.
That's the goal.
Thursday, July 30, 2015
Motherhood Continued ...
If there is anything I've learned in this season of parenting littles it's that things do eventually come to an end. You think you will never get a full nights sleep again without someone waking, but it happened with Hampton and I know that it will eventually happen with Carter. You think that diapers will be a way of life forever, and then, without warning ... your two year old comes to you one day and says, "me me potty..." and you put them on the potty and there's no going back. I started potty training Hampton a week ago and he has had a few accidents along the way, but unless he's taking a nap or down for the night (he stays in pull ups then) ... he's in his "big boy pants" ... and very proud :) And just like that ... the diaper days for Hampton are over. Some friends were over this morning as we were planning a baby shower for another friend over coffee and wild indians running around my dining room table and I couldn't help laughing as I had to get up three times to make sure H "aimed for the water" and not our walls. Each time he came out, he shouted, "I potty!!" And my friends gave him lots of praise and applause :) His bff, Parker, is also in the potty training scene and he got a lot of applause too upon exiting the bathroom. Good times...
Hampton begins preschool at the end of August, and I can't really believe that either. He will go two days a week from 8:30-11:45 and every other Friday. Several of his friends from play group and several more from church will be in his class and all of my friends send their kids to this sweet school, so from that point of view ... I'm excited about it, knowing he will be surrounded by familiar and loving faces ... I'm also excited because I know how much he will love going ... and getting to do all of his favorite things: singing, drawing, playing on the playground, playing with his friends, learning ... :)
It goes by so quickly. As ready as I am for him to go, and as ready as I know he is ... there's this little place in my heart that "feels" so much about letting him. I just love him so much.
Oh, motherhood, you flipping get me ... every single time.
Hampton begins preschool at the end of August, and I can't really believe that either. He will go two days a week from 8:30-11:45 and every other Friday. Several of his friends from play group and several more from church will be in his class and all of my friends send their kids to this sweet school, so from that point of view ... I'm excited about it, knowing he will be surrounded by familiar and loving faces ... I'm also excited because I know how much he will love going ... and getting to do all of his favorite things: singing, drawing, playing on the playground, playing with his friends, learning ... :)
It goes by so quickly. As ready as I am for him to go, and as ready as I know he is ... there's this little place in my heart that "feels" so much about letting him. I just love him so much.
Oh, motherhood, you flipping get me ... every single time.
Friday, May 08, 2015
Tap On
Several weeks ago at IF:Table (six women, four questions, two hours - an off shoot of the IF Gathering and IF Local) one of our questions centered around loneliness and friendship and community and the ties that bind it all together during this season of our lives. It's just one of the more difficult seasons for real, authentic (daily) community because we're so busy breaking and pouring. Community during this season has to be more intentional ... and sometimes even the best of intentions are covered up by layers of exhaustion.
But I've thought so much about the above this week because two things happened. One being that two of my dearest friends from Memphis, two that will always be on my home team (even if our homes are 500 miles apart), came for four days. They used to be what I would consider as new friends, but now that I've been out of college ten years ... they fit the description of old friends. Because enough water has crossed under that bridge ... and we've done a lot of life together. And two being that I read Nobody's Cuter Than You by Melanie Shankle. It is a memoir of friendship and I cannot recommend it enough. The book made me think of every single friendship I've had through the years ... and the ways they've shaped me and grown me, hurt me, taught me to be better, to love better. It also made me think of my own contributions to the world of friendship ... when I've been a really good friend (which, to me, constitutes itself in large part by just "being there") and when I have wounded others - out of my own insecurities or just sheer stupidity (reason #756 I am thankful for a little word called, grace). It made me think of how hard this particular season of life is ... not because I lack close friends, but because for the most part, 90% of them live in different cities and states than I do. It's a tap dance of keep in touch ... texting between feedings, phone calls hit or miss, scheduling visits and trips. But it's one of the things I hold close to the vest (following my faith and family) ... my friendships.
So I tap on.
Shankle writes, "There are probably only a handful of times in our lives when someone walks in who will change us forever--when we find someone we can love with our whole hearts, who will challenge us and shape us and make us feel like the world is safer and brighter just because they are in it. A person who loves us for exactly who we are, yet teaches us to be better because of who they are and how they live their life. A person who will listen to our stories and hold our hands as we go through heartbreak and joy and figure out all that life throws our way."
When I read those lines this steeped mixture of emotion and gratitude wells up in my heart. Because I see the faces of my friends etched between each of those words. What blessing.
But I've thought so much about the above this week because two things happened. One being that two of my dearest friends from Memphis, two that will always be on my home team (even if our homes are 500 miles apart), came for four days. They used to be what I would consider as new friends, but now that I've been out of college ten years ... they fit the description of old friends. Because enough water has crossed under that bridge ... and we've done a lot of life together. And two being that I read Nobody's Cuter Than You by Melanie Shankle. It is a memoir of friendship and I cannot recommend it enough. The book made me think of every single friendship I've had through the years ... and the ways they've shaped me and grown me, hurt me, taught me to be better, to love better. It also made me think of my own contributions to the world of friendship ... when I've been a really good friend (which, to me, constitutes itself in large part by just "being there") and when I have wounded others - out of my own insecurities or just sheer stupidity (reason #756 I am thankful for a little word called, grace). It made me think of how hard this particular season of life is ... not because I lack close friends, but because for the most part, 90% of them live in different cities and states than I do. It's a tap dance of keep in touch ... texting between feedings, phone calls hit or miss, scheduling visits and trips. But it's one of the things I hold close to the vest (following my faith and family) ... my friendships.
So I tap on.
Shankle writes, "There are probably only a handful of times in our lives when someone walks in who will change us forever--when we find someone we can love with our whole hearts, who will challenge us and shape us and make us feel like the world is safer and brighter just because they are in it. A person who loves us for exactly who we are, yet teaches us to be better because of who they are and how they live their life. A person who will listen to our stories and hold our hands as we go through heartbreak and joy and figure out all that life throws our way."
When I read those lines this steeped mixture of emotion and gratitude wells up in my heart. Because I see the faces of my friends etched between each of those words. What blessing.
Tuesday, December 23, 2014
For Another Year, Another Story
The last month of my life has been amazing, exhausting, wonderful, hard, emotional ... beautiful. I have been trying to play catch up the last few days and document as much as possible (here) because I am in this constant state of toddler/newborn haze/fog and as much as I want to remember, I forget. And it goes by so, so quickly. I've been writing the story of Carter's birth the last several days in my (free? spare? borrowed??) time ... and this coming weekend he will be five weeks old.
So very quickly.
Speaking of, he's strapped to me as I type this ... alone in my kitchen, nearly 10:30 at night. I'm bouncing both of my knees and one keeps hitting the desk while the other is subduing him from eating his hands off (yes, borrowed time :)).
Paul asked if he could move the "it's a boy!" balloon and blue candies off of the counter today. I'm usually all for clearing away unnecessary objects, but I haven't been able to take them down yet. It's taken me longer to do so many things like this. Simple things like getting rid of a blue balloon have taken on such emotion ... like removing it is saying goodbye to this part of the story. And I grieve that. I feel like I felt every turn as we left the hospital with the baby, me in the wheelchair, he in my arms ... so innately ... for that very reason. I wasn't ready to let it go. I wanted to hold on to those few days of adrenaline pumping, exhilerating, new motherhood. But alas :)
I have loved having a new baby during the holidays ... such a sweet and special time. And I'm so looking forward to the next week of holidaying ... Christmas Eve and morning with my family, and then Paul's family arrives on Christmas afternoon. Carter will go to church for the first time tomorrow ... a tiny baby at the candlelight service. I'm hosting Christmas dinner for the very first time and it feels right amidst the lack of sleep and mayhem to put the extra leaf in the dining room table and sit and eat and drink under the twinkly lights of the tree on heirloom china and waterford crystal. I can't wait to put their Christmas jammies on and set out milk and cookies for Santa ... I can't wait for our nativity ("The Donkey in the Living Room book is a must!) to finally display the baby Jesus on Christmas morning. It has been a season of "present over perfect" - for real! And I've loved it.
My grandparents drove back today from Mayo Clinic with better news about my grandfather's cancer than they came with. My brother got married this year and I got a beautiful new sister. We welcomed a precious baby boy into our family. The business is growing. Our home is warm and filled with friends and family and peace and love ............ and to all of this there is only one thing to say, and it's the same thing I've said of previous years ... some that have been burdened and overwhelming and much harder than this ....
Thank you, Jesus. For everything. For another year, another story. I'm so grateful.
So very quickly.
Speaking of, he's strapped to me as I type this ... alone in my kitchen, nearly 10:30 at night. I'm bouncing both of my knees and one keeps hitting the desk while the other is subduing him from eating his hands off (yes, borrowed time :)).
Paul asked if he could move the "it's a boy!" balloon and blue candies off of the counter today. I'm usually all for clearing away unnecessary objects, but I haven't been able to take them down yet. It's taken me longer to do so many things like this. Simple things like getting rid of a blue balloon have taken on such emotion ... like removing it is saying goodbye to this part of the story. And I grieve that. I feel like I felt every turn as we left the hospital with the baby, me in the wheelchair, he in my arms ... so innately ... for that very reason. I wasn't ready to let it go. I wanted to hold on to those few days of adrenaline pumping, exhilerating, new motherhood. But alas :)
I have loved having a new baby during the holidays ... such a sweet and special time. And I'm so looking forward to the next week of holidaying ... Christmas Eve and morning with my family, and then Paul's family arrives on Christmas afternoon. Carter will go to church for the first time tomorrow ... a tiny baby at the candlelight service. I'm hosting Christmas dinner for the very first time and it feels right amidst the lack of sleep and mayhem to put the extra leaf in the dining room table and sit and eat and drink under the twinkly lights of the tree on heirloom china and waterford crystal. I can't wait to put their Christmas jammies on and set out milk and cookies for Santa ... I can't wait for our nativity ("The Donkey in the Living Room book is a must!) to finally display the baby Jesus on Christmas morning. It has been a season of "present over perfect" - for real! And I've loved it.
My grandparents drove back today from Mayo Clinic with better news about my grandfather's cancer than they came with. My brother got married this year and I got a beautiful new sister. We welcomed a precious baby boy into our family. The business is growing. Our home is warm and filled with friends and family and peace and love ............ and to all of this there is only one thing to say, and it's the same thing I've said of previous years ... some that have been burdened and overwhelming and much harder than this ....
Thank you, Jesus. For everything. For another year, another story. I'm so grateful.
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
Friday, October 24, 2014
Meltdowns, The Pelvis, & Blessings
So yesterday ... kicked my rear end. My child woke up from his afternoon nap in the moodiest, testiest, most two-year-old of all ... states. I was trying to cook dinner for another family who just welcomed their first baby into the world, while my firstborn laid at my feet crying and pulling my yoga pants down to my ankles ... all while my second to-be-born had very recently become the cause of what I thought was going to be the very end of my pelvis. Side note: who knew a pelvis could hurt like this? It is insane that a pelvis can hurt like this, but let me tell you, it can.
Anyway, my child continued into meltdown mode and I continued with many a come to Jesus meeting with him. After disciplining him for throwing inanimate objects, I told him I loved him and to say he was sorry, for which he always does (with big crocodile tears falling from his cheeks) ... and then five minutes later it happened again. And then again. Again. You get the picture... and so goes parenting a toddler. Consistency, I am told, is key, but listen, at some point in all of this you could have found me rocking back and forth in a corner holding myself (holding my pelvis more likely) and contemplating drink and drug. But WHATEVER MAN ain't nobody got time for that ... so Hampton went into his high chair for dinner. And that's when I nearly lost my mind. That's when ... to what should my wandering eyes should appear, but a dinner plate of beans and rice ... being hurled through the air.
Fast forward to two minutes later when Paul calls. He heard sobs for about 35 seconds before he said, "I'll be home in five minutes." He was on his way home anyway, but geez, what grace. He took that boy on a long walk while I finished dinner (and sobbing) and then I went to drop off dinner to our friends (by myself which might as well have been a trip to the Carribean) and then I texted an SOS to my fellow villagers who are also in the trenches and I laughed all the way home. Because here's what I know for sure: my friends get it. They are transparent, vulnerable, haven't got it all figured out either ... moms. And their stories about their days with their own kids eased my burden until I was nearly crying again (this time from laughing).
And today ... I'm four weeks away from my due date. Other than being up half the night from my pelvis (again ... who knew??), I feel good. Tired, but good. Hampton and I went to my grandmother's this morning and while I rocked on her front porch, she and Hampton took a neighborhood nature walk (he loves walks with my grandmother, but who wouldn't? she stops to smell the roses, lets him play with every stick and pine cone he comes across, points out birds ... she's the best). This afternoon Mark and Kasey arrive for the weekend and tonight Paul and I are going to the Kristian Stanfill "Take it All" concert at our church (Louie Giglio too) ... and Lord knows I need some Jesus in my life. Thankful that no matter how bad our yesterdays, as my mom always told me while I was growing up, tomorrow is another day. And this one has been a blessing.
Anyway, my child continued into meltdown mode and I continued with many a come to Jesus meeting with him. After disciplining him for throwing inanimate objects, I told him I loved him and to say he was sorry, for which he always does (with big crocodile tears falling from his cheeks) ... and then five minutes later it happened again. And then again. Again. You get the picture... and so goes parenting a toddler. Consistency, I am told, is key, but listen, at some point in all of this you could have found me rocking back and forth in a corner holding myself (holding my pelvis more likely) and contemplating drink and drug. But WHATEVER MAN ain't nobody got time for that ... so Hampton went into his high chair for dinner. And that's when I nearly lost my mind. That's when ... to what should my wandering eyes should appear, but a dinner plate of beans and rice ... being hurled through the air.
Fast forward to two minutes later when Paul calls. He heard sobs for about 35 seconds before he said, "I'll be home in five minutes." He was on his way home anyway, but geez, what grace. He took that boy on a long walk while I finished dinner (and sobbing) and then I went to drop off dinner to our friends (by myself which might as well have been a trip to the Carribean) and then I texted an SOS to my fellow villagers who are also in the trenches and I laughed all the way home. Because here's what I know for sure: my friends get it. They are transparent, vulnerable, haven't got it all figured out either ... moms. And their stories about their days with their own kids eased my burden until I was nearly crying again (this time from laughing).
And today ... I'm four weeks away from my due date. Other than being up half the night from my pelvis (again ... who knew??), I feel good. Tired, but good. Hampton and I went to my grandmother's this morning and while I rocked on her front porch, she and Hampton took a neighborhood nature walk (he loves walks with my grandmother, but who wouldn't? she stops to smell the roses, lets him play with every stick and pine cone he comes across, points out birds ... she's the best). This afternoon Mark and Kasey arrive for the weekend and tonight Paul and I are going to the Kristian Stanfill "Take it All" concert at our church (Louie Giglio too) ... and Lord knows I need some Jesus in my life. Thankful that no matter how bad our yesterdays, as my mom always told me while I was growing up, tomorrow is another day. And this one has been a blessing.
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
Just Done
In an effort to get it all out, I will say this: I'm very pregnant, babysitting a dog (mom and dad's while they are on vacation) who likes to wake me up ALL hours of the night (it was 4 a.m. this morning and then I was up for good), I have a very active and busy and into everything toddler who loves to eat dog food and dump out the dog's water. Add all of this together with a toddler who got up too early this morning and a dog who (upon being let out) decided to sort through the trash I set outside my door last night and a toddler who then decided to eat + dump dog's food/water on self once fully dressed for a dr.'s appointment we had to be early to ... and then got two shots at the dr.'s office and escaped from my arms and ran down the halls of the dr.'s office .... And I'm done. Just done.
When baby goes to sleep, you will find me eating chocolate ice cream on the couch and watching Dancing with the Stars and that's it. I need mind numbing activities and I need to eat my feelings. As I type this .... said toddler is hanging onto my back (he climbed up into the chair behind me) and is pulling my shoulders back and forth all while yelling, "ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" in both of my ears.
Thanks for listening fellow parents in the trenches ... sometimes it helps to know you're not alone ;)
When baby goes to sleep, you will find me eating chocolate ice cream on the couch and watching Dancing with the Stars and that's it. I need mind numbing activities and I need to eat my feelings. As I type this .... said toddler is hanging onto my back (he climbed up into the chair behind me) and is pulling my shoulders back and forth all while yelling, "ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" in both of my ears.
Thanks for listening fellow parents in the trenches ... sometimes it helps to know you're not alone ;)
Sunday, May 11, 2014
Another Chapter ...
This was a sweet, sweet mother's day for me ... enjoying the stage Hampton is in so very much and I am just beginning the second trimester with our second baby. We found out in mid March that we would be expecting a new little bundle in late November of this year and we're so grateful. I spent much of the last several months very intensely sick (as in not getting out of bed or off of the couch for days - weeks - on end), but God gave me strength and I kept my nanny's life motto at the forefront of my mind each day, this too shall pass. And it did. My mom was amazing and helped to corral Hampton while Paul was working and when he wasn't working, Paul Bruce was my everything and then some ... serving us tirelessly and never complaining. He makes me better.
On the 12 week mark (to the day), all food aversion and throwing up and thoughts of throwing up and 24/7 all out nausea ... ended. What a wonderful day that was :)
This morning as I sat in church with my husband to my left and my mom to my right and the sweet baby whose heartbeat we heard for the very first time last week inside of me, my heart overflowed. Motherhood has been the sweetest gift I have ever received. Aside from the grace and mercy of my salvation, there has been nothing sweeter. I thank God every single day.
Happy Mother's Day ~
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Fireside
I keep sitting down to order invitations for Hampton's first birthday, but I literally cannot make myself do it. We're having a small party, just family and a few close friends, but ordering the invitations will make it feel more real ... and I just can't get there quite yet. This has been the best year of my life ... and as much as I love watching him grow and learn and do new things and say new things ... he will never be a baby again. He will never fit in my arms the same way he has fit in my arms this year, all snuggled up. He will grow out of his "baby smell." Which is the sweetest smell of all. He will talk more and babble less, walk more and crawl less and on and on. All good 'life' things. But still, things I will miss. And with that, I put off buying the dadgum invitations another day ...
Instead, I'm sitting by the fire ... eating leftover stone crab from my birthday dinner (and wishing I had the champagne and St. Germain from last night to go with it!), watching Sophie's Choice for the first time (Meryl Streep ... so good), and writing. xo
Saturday, January 04, 2014
With Good Things
I spent today in my pajamas and got in the shower around 3 p.m. We got back from Birmingham late yesterday afternoon, and after the whirlwind of the holiday season, I had some serious unpacking, organizing and taking down the Christmas extravaganza to do. I did quite a bit last night, but the majority today. And now my house feels naked and clean and very January {which is to say, naked and clean}. But the holiday season ... wow. Certainly, one of the best and also, the busiest. In previous years I spent hours wrapping gifts with beautiful paper and tying each with perfect satin ribbon. This year, when Hampton was napping, I threw each gift in a bag and stuffed it with tissue, and checked those mothers right off the list. And when I realized on Christmas Eve that I still needed, like, ten more presents ... I dropped Hampton off at mom's, went to one store, and figured it out. Because when you have an hour to figure it out, you get it done.
The last two weeks were chock full. We were surrounded by my family the week of Christmas, and then again, this last week in Birmingham, with Paul's. In the middle of all of it, I got sick for the first time in a year and tried not to let this cold beat me down ... and Hampton got three first year molars. In a week. On vacation. While he "slept" in the pack in play two feet from our bed. Where every noise jostled him. Three. Grin.
2013 was an important year for me. It was the year I turned 30, quit a job I loved to pursue another, moved back to a state and city I had only known as a kid {and yes, the older I get the more I know, 18 years old is very much still a kid}, said good-bye to so many good things and said hello to more of the same, it was the year that a 6 lb. 5 oz. baby boy made me a mother ... which, you know, changes everything ... for instance, I have always been a crier. But not really at a drop of the hat type of crier. Something or someone has to really move me. I don't really cry at weddings or funerals for this reason. It's not the emotion of that day, but the days before it and the days after. It's hearing the love story for the first time or watching a husband care for his wife when she's terminally ill. But I'm finding that as a mom, it's totally possible to be moved on a daily basis. I don't have large weeping sessions {no baby blues saga going on here}, but my eyes well up ... constantly. Just a moment, and then, gone. The perspective has changed. I look at things through a different lens.
My life is so much quieter now. In ways that have made me lonely at times, and in ways that have been really good, for my mind, my soul, our family.
Toward the end of the year, I began memorizing large passages of scripture so that in the quiet, I could speak these God breathed words throughout our home, as I folded laundry, changed diapers, cooked dinner, rocked and nursed the baby. One of the chapters I have memorized is Psalm 103, the first few verses which say, Praise the Lord, o my soul, all my inmost being, praise his holy name ... praise the Lord, o my soul, and forget not all of his benefits ... who forgives all your sin and heals all of your diseases and redeems your life from the pit ... and crowns you with love and compassion and satisfies your desires with good things, so that your youth may be renewed like the eagles ...
In 2013 the Lord's mercy and grace and love poured out over my life.
With good things.
The last two weeks were chock full. We were surrounded by my family the week of Christmas, and then again, this last week in Birmingham, with Paul's. In the middle of all of it, I got sick for the first time in a year and tried not to let this cold beat me down ... and Hampton got three first year molars. In a week. On vacation. While he "slept" in the pack in play two feet from our bed. Where every noise jostled him. Three. Grin.
2013 was an important year for me. It was the year I turned 30, quit a job I loved to pursue another, moved back to a state and city I had only known as a kid {and yes, the older I get the more I know, 18 years old is very much still a kid}, said good-bye to so many good things and said hello to more of the same, it was the year that a 6 lb. 5 oz. baby boy made me a mother ... which, you know, changes everything ... for instance, I have always been a crier. But not really at a drop of the hat type of crier. Something or someone has to really move me. I don't really cry at weddings or funerals for this reason. It's not the emotion of that day, but the days before it and the days after. It's hearing the love story for the first time or watching a husband care for his wife when she's terminally ill. But I'm finding that as a mom, it's totally possible to be moved on a daily basis. I don't have large weeping sessions {no baby blues saga going on here}, but my eyes well up ... constantly. Just a moment, and then, gone. The perspective has changed. I look at things through a different lens.
My life is so much quieter now. In ways that have made me lonely at times, and in ways that have been really good, for my mind, my soul, our family.
Toward the end of the year, I began memorizing large passages of scripture so that in the quiet, I could speak these God breathed words throughout our home, as I folded laundry, changed diapers, cooked dinner, rocked and nursed the baby. One of the chapters I have memorized is Psalm 103, the first few verses which say, Praise the Lord, o my soul, all my inmost being, praise his holy name ... praise the Lord, o my soul, and forget not all of his benefits ... who forgives all your sin and heals all of your diseases and redeems your life from the pit ... and crowns you with love and compassion and satisfies your desires with good things, so that your youth may be renewed like the eagles ...
In 2013 the Lord's mercy and grace and love poured out over my life.
With good things.
Wednesday, October 09, 2013
Being All There
It was 60-something this morning, hallelujah ... fall. I took Hampton on a walk that lasted half the day because I was just that happy for the crisp, cool air. We went to the park too. This baby is a fan of the swings, he kind of sits back and props one arm up and one leg up and takes it all in. We came home and I started on the spaghetti sauce while he played on the floor under my feet. Banging plastic spoons, bowls and a bottle of vitamins.
I love the simplicity of our days, the comfort of our home, the love that is shared. I love that for the better part of my life, I have clung to the truth that wherever you are - you should be all there. And I love that years from now, when these days of small children have passed me by, I will look back on these precious memories and know that I was all there.
And that that in and of itself was one of my life's great gifts.
I love the simplicity of our days, the comfort of our home, the love that is shared. I love that for the better part of my life, I have clung to the truth that wherever you are - you should be all there. And I love that years from now, when these days of small children have passed me by, I will look back on these precious memories and know that I was all there.
And that that in and of itself was one of my life's great gifts.
Sunday, October 06, 2013
You Write From What You Know
During book club tonight we were talking to the author {of the book we read} in regards to her process in writing and editing the book, was it autobiographical? {not all parts, thank God}, etc. The novel she just wrote and the book she is currently writing are both set in the South. Someone asked if future writing would also share the same locale/setting? And her answer was so simple: you write from what you know.I get that completely. What I know these days seems so wildly different from what I knew a year ago. And I hope that my life is always that way -- I hope I'm always learning and growing and moving on from where I was. But still, it's surprising ... how much you can know, and how little, all at once.
The day we left the hospital with Hampton was very much one of those how much and how little all at once moments for me. The nurses really sling it to you at discharge. They give you the rundown on everything from the bath to nursing to swaddling and on and on, and after the speech, send you on your merry way. I knew what I knew, what I had learned in the mere 48 hours I had been his mom, and the basics, but the how little I knew started to manifest itself somewhere deep inside, and rose as we were wheeled down the halls, down the elevator, and out to the waiting car.
I climbed into the backseat of the car with that tiny baby when we left the hospital and silently prayed {like a maniac} all the way home that we would make it. That we would be okay -- that I would be okay. It was the first time in my life that I felt real and true responsibility outside of myself. I felt overwhelming responsibility for the health and well being of this baby boy. And it terrified me.
The next twenty-four hours encompasses a period of time that I'm not sure I'll ever forget. I think about it often and still can hardly find the words. It just felt so primal ... coupled with the most intense inward emotion I have ever known. I didn't shed a tear, didn't have an anxiety attack, didn't break into a postpartum meltdown ... but it was the first time I think I really understood.
I never spoke my emotion out loud ... just continued swallowing the lump of uncertainty ... so that I could function.
You write from what you know.
What I know is that I could not have known a year ago what all of the above {and then some} would feel like. The ebb and flow of knowing so much and so little all at once. I couldn't have written the above words ... because I didn't know them yet. And it's different for every person, I think. The moment that that feeling of responsibility comes to rest firmly and squarely on your shoulders. That moment of true, unadulterated motherhood. For me, as quickly as it came with all of its intensity ... it was gone. Like so many other times in my life, the redemption was found in my conscious decision to let go. In the place of fear and uncertainty ... I chose courage. I chose to remember the women in my family who have gone before me - bravely. I chose to pray. And pray, and pray. And with this ... I felt a renewed sense of freedom ... and that God was with me.
You write from what you know, and I know peace. It's a daily choice, but always and without fail, it continues to surpass all my understanding.
Monday, September 02, 2013
That Kid
This post was written by Amanda Savage for the 7000 days blog and I thought it was so, so good ... and wanted to share.
~
I was reminded yesterday that I have "that kid." Sometimes, that child of mine has a rough day. It happened yesterday. We’ve had a great three week run of good days and good behavior at school. But not yesterday. Yesterday, I got the look from the teacher and the “he had a hard day talk” followed by “the list” of his actions. And then the grand finale, “You know there are about two or three other children that like to do exactly what he does, so when he misbehaves so do the others.”
This child of mine with the extremely strong will is the one who tells me to go ahead and give him his punishment because he is going to do what he wants no matter the cost. He is funny and he is cute and he is smart and he is a natural leader. Yet, he tests me constantly. I have had to learn this wild and lovable little boy does not define me as a mom. Parenting him is not about me. I’ve had to let go of the dream of being the perfect mom and having perfect children.
Sometimes in this mom world we can be excruciatingly judgmental of other moms and their children. We play the game of comparison and we define our worth and abilities as moms by these comparisons. At some point, most of us will have "that kid" (or several of those kids) who beats us down because he or she refuses to play our comparison game. That is when we will have to decide if we are going to let our children define us or will we help our child grow and mature in the way God created him or her. As a mom, I must worry less about what others think of me and my parenting skills. I must look down the road and decide what my child needs now so he can be a responsible adult then.
Yesterday, I walked away only the slightest bit embarrassed . . . this time. But, I also walked away knowing this is my son. This is how he was created and I want to help him grow and make his personality his strength, not his weakness. He is a child and is not always going to know how to act. He is going to misbehave because sometimes its fun and sometimes he has an audience. And he is learning that he has influence. My hope and prayer is that as he grows I use these instances not to try to change who he is because of how it might reflect on me but to remember my job as a parent is to train him to be a responsible, functional and honorable adult.
I want to take my son’s personality and show him how to grow in it, how to be a leader who makes a positive influence. I have to look ahead and think about what successes and failures he needs in his life to be a strong leader as a teenager, a college student, and an adult. He will fail more than I’d prefer but I want him to fail young so that hard lessons are learned early and will benefit him when he is grown.
Instead of worrying about my reputation, I tell him how others like to be around him. I tell him he can help his class and his teachers by listening and acting right. I train him to use his powers for good and not evil (because he’s a boy and understands superheroes). And I pray. I pray that at a young age he will come to know Jesus as his Savior. I pray that he will let the Holy Spirit direct his life and that this strong personality will be used to make a difference for our God. Instead of being embarrassed about how his behavior reflects on me, I enjoy who he is and how God created him and I train him to grow in “wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man.” (Luke 2:52)
~
I was reminded yesterday that I have "that kid." Sometimes, that child of mine has a rough day. It happened yesterday. We’ve had a great three week run of good days and good behavior at school. But not yesterday. Yesterday, I got the look from the teacher and the “he had a hard day talk” followed by “the list” of his actions. And then the grand finale, “You know there are about two or three other children that like to do exactly what he does, so when he misbehaves so do the others.”
This child of mine with the extremely strong will is the one who tells me to go ahead and give him his punishment because he is going to do what he wants no matter the cost. He is funny and he is cute and he is smart and he is a natural leader. Yet, he tests me constantly. I have had to learn this wild and lovable little boy does not define me as a mom. Parenting him is not about me. I’ve had to let go of the dream of being the perfect mom and having perfect children.
Sometimes in this mom world we can be excruciatingly judgmental of other moms and their children. We play the game of comparison and we define our worth and abilities as moms by these comparisons. At some point, most of us will have "that kid" (or several of those kids) who beats us down because he or she refuses to play our comparison game. That is when we will have to decide if we are going to let our children define us or will we help our child grow and mature in the way God created him or her. As a mom, I must worry less about what others think of me and my parenting skills. I must look down the road and decide what my child needs now so he can be a responsible adult then.
Yesterday, I walked away only the slightest bit embarrassed . . . this time. But, I also walked away knowing this is my son. This is how he was created and I want to help him grow and make his personality his strength, not his weakness. He is a child and is not always going to know how to act. He is going to misbehave because sometimes its fun and sometimes he has an audience. And he is learning that he has influence. My hope and prayer is that as he grows I use these instances not to try to change who he is because of how it might reflect on me but to remember my job as a parent is to train him to be a responsible, functional and honorable adult.
I want to take my son’s personality and show him how to grow in it, how to be a leader who makes a positive influence. I have to look ahead and think about what successes and failures he needs in his life to be a strong leader as a teenager, a college student, and an adult. He will fail more than I’d prefer but I want him to fail young so that hard lessons are learned early and will benefit him when he is grown.
Instead of worrying about my reputation, I tell him how others like to be around him. I tell him he can help his class and his teachers by listening and acting right. I train him to use his powers for good and not evil (because he’s a boy and understands superheroes). And I pray. I pray that at a young age he will come to know Jesus as his Savior. I pray that he will let the Holy Spirit direct his life and that this strong personality will be used to make a difference for our God. Instead of being embarrassed about how his behavior reflects on me, I enjoy who he is and how God created him and I train him to grow in “wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man.” (Luke 2:52)
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Remember This
"College athletes were asked what their parents said that made them feel great, that amplified their joy during and after a ballgame. Their overwhelming response:
I love to watch you play.
That’s it. Those six words. How interesting. How liberating to the parent. How empowering to the student-athlete. No pressure. No correction. No judgment. (That’s the coach’s job). Just pure love of their child using their gift in competition."
(via Stephanie Blackiston)
I love to watch you play.
That’s it. Those six words. How interesting. How liberating to the parent. How empowering to the student-athlete. No pressure. No correction. No judgment. (That’s the coach’s job). Just pure love of their child using their gift in competition."
(via Stephanie Blackiston)
Thursday, July 18, 2013
The Invisible Mother
Saw this post on another blog and loved it so much ...
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I’m on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I’m thinking, ‘Can’t you see I’m on the phone?’
Obviously not; no one can see if I’m on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I’m invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more! Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this??
Some days I’m not a pair of hands; I’m not even a human being. I’m a clock to ask, ‘What time is it?’ I’m a satellite guide to answer, ‘What number is the Disney Channel?’ I’m a car to order, ‘Right around 5:30, please.’
Some days I’m a crystal ball; ‘Where’s my other sock? Where’s my phone?, What’s for dinner?’
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history, music and literature -but now, they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She’s going, she’s going, and she’s gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. She had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when she turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, ‘I brought you this.’ It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn’t exactly sure why she’d given it to me until I read her inscription: ‘With admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.’
In the days ahead I would read – no, devour – the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: 1) No one can say who built the great cathedrals – we have no record of their names. 2) These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. 3) They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. 4) The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A story of legend in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, ‘Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof, no one will ever see it, and the workman replied, ‘Because God sees.’
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you’ve done, no sequin you’ve sewn on, no cupcake you’ve baked, no Cub Scout meeting, no last minute errand is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can’t see right now what it will become.'
I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don’t want my son to tell the friend he’s bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, ‘My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for 3 hours and presses all the linens for the table.’ That would mean I’d built a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, he’d say, ‘You’re gonna love it there…’
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we’re doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible mothers.
—Anonymous
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I’m on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I’m thinking, ‘Can’t you see I’m on the phone?’
Obviously not; no one can see if I’m on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I’m invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more! Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this??
Some days I’m not a pair of hands; I’m not even a human being. I’m a clock to ask, ‘What time is it?’ I’m a satellite guide to answer, ‘What number is the Disney Channel?’ I’m a car to order, ‘Right around 5:30, please.’
Some days I’m a crystal ball; ‘Where’s my other sock? Where’s my phone?, What’s for dinner?’
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history, music and literature -but now, they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She’s going, she’s going, and she’s gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. She had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when she turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, ‘I brought you this.’ It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn’t exactly sure why she’d given it to me until I read her inscription: ‘With admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.’
In the days ahead I would read – no, devour – the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: 1) No one can say who built the great cathedrals – we have no record of their names. 2) These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. 3) They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. 4) The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A story of legend in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, ‘Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof, no one will ever see it, and the workman replied, ‘Because God sees.’
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you’ve done, no sequin you’ve sewn on, no cupcake you’ve baked, no Cub Scout meeting, no last minute errand is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can’t see right now what it will become.'
I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don’t want my son to tell the friend he’s bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, ‘My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for 3 hours and presses all the linens for the table.’ That would mean I’d built a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, he’d say, ‘You’re gonna love it there…’
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we’re doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible mothers.
—Anonymous
Thursday, June 13, 2013
This Is Grace
It's still a little surreal to me how quickly my life changed around this time last year. I was pregnant,
but didn't know it yet ... this picture was actually taken a few days before I found out.
As a general rule, change is something I like to ease into ... it usually comes as a hard knock for me, so I like to dip my feet in first. And yet just as I was deep into another set of life plans (which, among many things, included when I would get pregnant) ... I got pregnant.
As I have found over and over and over, and feel for sure that at some point God must be thinking, will you (please) go ahead and get this already? Hindsight is 20/20 ... and the best and most beautiful things in life simply cannot be planned. This is why we have words like hope and faith; we need these tangible, God-breathed ways to hold on ... as we journey. We need to remember that though the plans in our hearts may be many, it is the Lord's purpose that prevails ... and His plan is to prosper us, to give us a hope and a future.
I mused over all of this as I carried my sweet boy around our backyard earlier this evening. He loves to be outside so much, and the air was warm and thick as I carried him around pointing out trees and leaves and our very in bloom hydrangeas. I kissed his head and cheeks and thought back to this time a year ago ... and how I had no idea that it would soon become the best and most beautiful year of my life.
A life that feels so undeserved, but for grace.
This is grace.
As a general rule, change is something I like to ease into ... it usually comes as a hard knock for me, so I like to dip my feet in first. And yet just as I was deep into another set of life plans (which, among many things, included when I would get pregnant) ... I got pregnant.
As I have found over and over and over, and feel for sure that at some point God must be thinking, will you (please) go ahead and get this already? Hindsight is 20/20 ... and the best and most beautiful things in life simply cannot be planned. This is why we have words like hope and faith; we need these tangible, God-breathed ways to hold on ... as we journey. We need to remember that though the plans in our hearts may be many, it is the Lord's purpose that prevails ... and His plan is to prosper us, to give us a hope and a future.
I mused over all of this as I carried my sweet boy around our backyard earlier this evening. He loves to be outside so much, and the air was warm and thick as I carried him around pointing out trees and leaves and our very in bloom hydrangeas. I kissed his head and cheeks and thought back to this time a year ago ... and how I had no idea that it would soon become the best and most beautiful year of my life.
A life that feels so undeserved, but for grace.
This is grace.
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
He's Growing
This baby of mine, he's growing. I look at this picture, when he was just a little over two weeks old, and can't believe that he was ever really that teeny tiny. Last week, on a rainy afternoon while he napped, I went through his drawers and closet and put away his tiny newborn gowns and onesies. I folded them one by one with a lump in my throat ... and tried really hard not to cry.
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