A Father is Born

I’ve been looking at this blank page for more than a few minutes trying to decide just which words to use. Trying to craft just the right message to covey just how cool it is to watch the birth of a father. I’m struggling. I want to get this right.

When Husband and I decided to get married, there was never any doubt that we would have children. Although we met and got married “later in life”, it was just a given that we would have a family. We were youthful – if not young – and idealistic. Life was good! [Life is still good, by the way. Very good!]

About seven years ago, Husband and I found out we were expecting for the first time. It was mid-June and just after our wedding reception.

[There's a running joke that we got pregnant between our wedding and reception. We did, actually ... the dates were like 3 months apart.]

We no sooner found out – and had time to get excited – than I miscarried. Six weeks – two days. We were devastated.

Not long after that we learned that we were expecting the second time. This time, we were cautious. We ran tests, prayed, and waited. At about 5 weeks, we knew that I would miscarry. The tests said so.  It was Thanksgiving. We gave thanks and prayed that the tests were wrong. They weren’t. I miscarried at six weeks – two days. We were devastated.

I believe that faith and parenthood/fatherhood are necessary companions. We had faith. We had pain and grief and all that goes with miscarriage. We were scared, but we had faith.

The doctors assured me that it was likely that there was nothing wrong – that miscarriages are quite common. We took solace in that and decided to just be faithful and see what would happen.

Several months went by before we found ourselves expecting for the third time. This time we were just plain scared. We were also “activists”. We asked questions, learned a whole lot of medical terms, ran tests, and were cautiously optimistic. Then we started watching the calendar for the dreaded six weeks – two days. The numbers on the tests weren’t right, but the hCG numbers were going up so … we prayed and prepared.

Six weeks – two days. No miscarriage. Six weeks – three days. Six weeks – four days. No miscarriage.

I will never forget the appointment – the day when my OB said, “Looks like you are going to have to raise this one.” Never.

Just about 9 months (and several anxious moments of our own making) later, we were blessed with Little Man. In that moment, in that messy, scary, exciting, crazy moment a father was born as well. It was instant – a sort of rush of all of the emotion that comes with the journey to the moment. He had no idea what do to, but he was hooked.

Husband grew up the youngest of three kids. He never babysat and, until he met me, he’d not spent a lot of time with children at all. Now, he had a little one depending on him all of the time. I’m sure that it scared him to death. But, we never saw it.

Little Man had Husband uncovering feelings that he never knew existed. He was our little bundle of shock and awe. Husband loved him more and more every day and, today, they have a bond so strong that I can’t imagine a power strong enough to tear it apart. I am in awe of their relationship.

Roughly four years later, we decided that Little Man needed a sibling brother. We weren’t going to have another child – you can ask anyone. We were content. And, then, all of a sudden, we weren’t. And, then? Nah, we’re good. But, then? We really should. It was insane.

We really couldn’t decide. And then we did. We decided that we were read to do this crazy dance all over again.

The first month, I just knew I wasn’t pregnant. I just knew it. I didn’t feel pregnant. But, I checked anyway and uh, yeh … WRONG! So, we quickly got a grip and counted on the calendar. Our first healthy milestone was that six week – two day mark.

The doctors tested me out the wazoo – almost 40 with a history of miscarriage earns you a lot of needles in early pregnancy! I was on a business trip and bugged the sin out of the nurses at my doctor’s office. But, there they were – perfectly textbook hCG numbers and, then a strong heartbeat. We were going to have another baby. Little Man was going to have a brother.

Yeh, except that God had some other plans. Little Man apparently needed a sister. Who knew? And, as it turns out? Daddy needed a baby girl.

When we found out BK was not a boy there was some denial going on. Husband refused to buy in to what the nurses and ultrasound pictures were saying. She was a boy. What would we do with a girl? He already had the boy thing down.

But, sure enough, little BK showed up a tad ahead of schedule and full of healthy (if tiny) spunk! At 5 pounds 12 ounces, she was SO tiny and feminine – the complete opposite of her big brother.

And, Daddy? Well, if I am to be honest, I’d tell you that he was just scared. He stayed back this time … loving, but a little standoffish. He loved, supported, took care of … but didn’t really bond initially.

She was so small and so pink … and Little Man needed him … and she was so small and fragile.

Then, one morning in the first part of her second month, I looked over at the rocking chair and saw a father being born once again. In the quiet morning light with eau d’formula floating heavily in the air, I watched my husband fall completely in love with his daughter. I literally watched him fall. It was a precious moment that I will treasure forever.

BK is in love with her Daddy – as it should be. She thinks he hangs the moon – and the feeling is mutual. They have created a wonderful relationship that gives me such confidence in her future. I am in awe of their relationship.

My kids and their Dad are an awesome force. They love each other and hold nothing back. It’s pure and raw and real. They share bonds that will get them through the rough times. I am thankful for this to a point beyond expression. I wrote this post to honor the journey. The bond. The man.

Happy Father’s Day, Husband … and to all fathers everywhere!

We are beyond blessed to have you in our lives.

I'll be hoppin' along now ...

Jesus Fell On My Toe (and Other Easter Blessings)

Our little family had a wonderful Easter. We were able to spend time doing all sorts of things … bike rides, visiting, play in the park, and of course, hunting for treats.

One of my most favorite things about Easter this year was that, after a couple of years of searching, I think we’ve found the right church for us! It’s fitting that our first service (and, frankly, theirs) was on Easter Sunday.

So here it is a day later (a day that was not so wonderful as Easter) and we are back to the normalcy of life. Except that tonight, God decided to drop a little Jesus on me. Don’t you love how that happens sometimes??

Little Man and I were getting ready to go to bed when he sort of randomly picked up the crucifix that sits on Husband’s night stand. [He's done this before. In fact, he seems to be very intrigued by the crucifixion.]

Tonight, after he told us that Jesus was nailed [always an emphasis on that word - always] to the cross and died, he looked at me and said, “Mom, this was what yesterday was all about.”

I was stunned. I didn’t think he was listening. Frankly, I should have known better.

We kept on talking about how Jesus got off the cross and the tomb was empty. That He then went to live in Heaven with God.

Without much pause, he said, “Our Odie is in Heaven with God. So’s Skeeter.” [This made Husband, who had just walked in to get something, mushy inside.]

Somewhere in the midst of all of this seriousness, Little Man must have dropped that crucifix on his toe. I honestly didn’t see him do it and he didn’t mention it. But, all of a sudden, his voice filled with tears.

LM: Mom, my toe is hurt and there’s blood, but I’m OK.

Me: What happened? Did you hurt your toenail?

LM: It happened when Jesus fell on my toe.

Me: (smiling) Jesus fell on your toe?

LM: (with the slightest bit of impatience) Not the real Jesus, Mom. The metal one.

Me: Oh. Are you OK?

LM: (bravely and with a sniffle) Yes. There is blood, but I’ll be OK. It’ll heal soon.

Me: Do you need a band-aid?

LM: I think so.

Me: OK, Daddy’s downstairs where your band-aids are. Go ask him for a band-aid.

I took this time to open Twitter … because, really, how many times do you hear the phrase, “Jesus fell on my toe.” As I was composing my tweet, I had to backspace and start over because this is what I heard.

LM: (now wailing at the bottom of the steps) IIIIIII neeeeedddd aaaa baaannnddd-aaaiiiidddd!

Husband: Jen, what happened?

LM: (sobbing loudly) Jesus fell on my toe and it’s bleeding and I need a band-aid.

Me: He wasn’t sobbing when he left me, he had a small cut. Really.

Husband: OK, let’s get you a band-aid and get you upstairs.

So, I’m all a Twitter when the boys get back upstairs. Little Man has calmed down and Husband is helping him with the stress of having Jesus fall on his toe. The conversation resumes.

Me: (sincerely) Love, are you OK?

LM: (sniffles) Yes. My toe will start healing now. I’ll have to walk carefully on it.

Husband: I don’t think Jesus meant to land on your toe, bug.

LM: For real, Jesus is supposed to watch us and take care of kids.

Our Easter blessings were many this year and they continue still … a beautiful day, time with friends and family, a new church home, and a sweet childlike reminder that sometimes we have to go through some pain to get to what’s real and good and true.

For real.

Hope you had a very Happy Easter!

Christmas Eve

I drove to work today while the rest of my little family was snug in their beds. I’ve got no idea what they had visions of … I’m guessing Skittles and paper given current trends!

I was crusing  (at the speed limit, thank you) through a rather barren place when the sun rose over the mountains – it was stunning. It made me smile and look forward to the day.

Christmas Eve may just be my favorite day of the year. It’s so full of anticipation and a sort of harnessed, yet unrestrained, joy. You can feel the energy of this day – a day where almost anything seems possible. A day where we wait for great things – and don’t really mind the wait.

As I think about the evening ahead, I remember the sunrise this morning. That clear, spectacular sunrise in a place that otherwise seems barren strikes me as something not-so-dissimilar to the event we celebrate tomorrow.

That thought stopped me in my tracks for a minute. How many other daily reminders do we have? How many go unseen?

So tonight, my prayer is that in the joy of celebration, we don’t forget the simple gifts … stunning beauty in unexpected places, the quiet breathing of a little one sleeping, the fellowship of friends … as we celebrate a gift beyond measure – a very small child who came to save a very big world.

Merry Christmas to all!

Perspective

I had another topic in mind for today. Then I read this and everything changed.

For the past week or so, Husband and I have been very focused on one thing – the fact that his job is about to end. (Ironic given the intro to Maggie’s post, isn’t it.) To say we are concerned would be an understatement. The economy is well – enough! Unless you are living in a hole, you do not need to be told any more crap about the economy.

In the past week, I’ve contemplated quite a few things. I’ve tried to take stock in what is important and what is not. But, folks, I’m human and I’m just not very good at downsizing.

I’ve looked at everything – here are some of the unedited conversations from my head.

1. We need to take back some of the Christmas presents. [Immediately followed by] Wait! If folks stop spending, this economy is going to get worse.
2. I’m going to have to give up my blog when it’s time to renew.
3. Thank goodness Facebook is free! [Immediaetly followed by] But … what if we have to lose our web access. [Followed by a very deep breath.]
4. Do we need to pull the kids out of school?
5. OK … if we just ______ then we can ______ or _______. Will this work? There are others who have less, we can do this.

OK … have I mentioned that I can be more than a little dramatic in times of stress? But, trust me, when this big a change is about to happen, everything seems immediate.

Look, bottom line is that we are going to have to gain a little perspective or we are going to be beaten by fear. The mind is a very powerful thing and we have to win the mental game. Well, at least I do. Mental momentum is the key to my sanity.

I’ve been gaining ground on this. I know that we are blessed. I made a mental list of every way that we have been blessed. The list started with the fact that we are alive, healthy, and together. It’s that simple. It can be that simple.

As I read Maggie’s post, tears streamed down my face. Her eloquent writing described exactly what that family is likley to do when they think about this day. One event changed everything. In that post, perspective found me and gave me a real quick slap just to be sure that I was paying attention.

I’m lucky. I believe that God will take care of my little family and all of the families who are struggling. He may not do it in the obvious way. He has his own ways and his own time and He is right. I may not understand why. I may not see (especially if I’m not paying attention). But, He will take care. He always has.

I will lose perspective again. I am human. I imagine that this loss and gain is part of the plan - part of growing, part of faith.

I will mark time with Maggie and her other readers … for the family in her post and for others whose lives are at a crossroads. Maggie wrote it as a prayer and, I think it is … a prayer for perspective.

Note from Jen:

As I prepare to post this, I am reading through your eyes. Some of you know me personally. Some of you don’t. So, I think it’s important for me to let you know that it is not my intention to exploit the tragic accident Maggie mentions in her post. It is not my intention to presume to know how they are feeling, what they are going through, or their belief system. Nor was it my intention to take that tragedy and make it all about me.

What Maggie wrote hit me like a ton of bricks – it helped me look at things (tough things) happening in my life in a new light. It did what good writing does - even if the author isn’t trying. It made me think, feel, react, and act. I felt strongly enough about what I discovered to write about it here.

If I offend, please accept my apologies.

Proverbial Post It

I’ve been on a bit of a cleaning binge the last few weeks. It’s like the nesting that I never went through when I was pregnant. Or, spring cleaning (only it’s so not spring). Or … who knows? I may just be completely crazy.

At any rate, I found a sticky on Sunday. A random green sticky just floating around with all of the other flotsam. On it? A Bible verse. No explanation – just a verse. Should have thrown it away, right? No context. Just a random sticky in the nightmare of clutter that comes from her-highness, the pack rat. (That would be me just in case you were wondering.)

This morning for some reason (my guess is those dang radio folks again – did I mention I should not listen to the radio in the morning?), Husband and I were talking about what we’d do if we won the lottery. It was the sort of interesting, yet trivial conversation that makes a 30 minute commute go faster and allows it to end with little or no stress. Nice, right?

So we decided that we’d get the kids set up, take care of the families, get a house at the beach, my truck, his car … you know, the usual.

I went through my day. He went through his.

On the way home, he told me that the brother of a friend of his at work won the lottery (2 million, I guess … not the 94 million that started the conversation this morning, but not too shabby!). So, we were back on the what would we do trip. Pretty much the same as before … just less! Good to know that we are at least consistent throughout a single day!

We went through our evening time, Kids fed. Football watched. Email taken care of.  Sticky note staring at me from a perch next to my mouse.

Are you still with me? This is the aforementioned sticky from the highness pack rat stash? OK … good!

The sticky said, “Proverbs 19:21.”

A small still voice said, “The Bible is right there. Look it up!”

I listen to the voices in my head.

Proverbs 19:21 said, “Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.”

‘Nuf said.

A Different View

Saturday night a new life came into the world. A precious little girl with 10 fingers and 10 toes and all of the sugar and spice that little girls are supposed to have. On the day – actually almost at the moment – that little girl was born, her mother died.

Her mother was my friend and I can’t believe that she’s gone. There’s a huge sense of disbelief … and sadness … and fear … and anger … and wonder. I simply can’t believe she’s gone.

Nobody dies in childbirth anymore. You plan for the wonderful day that you will finally meet that little being you’ve carried around. You don’t plan to NOT come home. Goodness, they tell you to plan for what you’ll do if, God forbid, something happens to the baby. But they never, I mean never, tell you to plan for the possibility that YOU won’t come home.

Don’t get me wrong. I know that she’s in a much better place than this world (even with those precious babies) could ever be. I know that. No doubt. Faith. I just can’t get past the very real understanding that a certain 2-year-old will very likely only remember her mommy through pictures and feelings … and that her sister will never know hers. I can’t get past a daddy who will now have to play the roles of his life to make sure that his girls are safe and happy and healthy.

I’ve gone to my fair share of funerals. I gave the eulogy at my grandmother’s funeral. This death … at this time … is different. I’m not sure how to explain it. It’s more real. It’s scary. It’s humbling. It could have been so many of my friends who are starting families later in life. It could have been me.

It made me want to hold my family … literally … all day. It made me feel things that were scary and that I didn’t want to face. It made me feel guilty that I processed this through my eyes … that I made it about my feelings … before I once again realized that I can’t even imagine the pain and the fear and the sadness and the anger and the joy that this family is going through right now.

As I sit here trying to put this into words with tears streaming down my face, my family sleeps. I am blessed. In the end, all I can do is celebrate the life of a friend and the birth of her daughter. I can support and I can pray. And I will.