Freak out

I freaked out last night.

It was about midnight or so.

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The baby has dropped, a sign of approaching birth, (though it might be weeks still) and I don't even have the cradle out of the rafters.

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Yesterday I started making a list:
plastic sheets for the birth tub
batteries for the camera
wash blankets and baby clothes
buy juice
make food for the midwives
etc...
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Last night in my freak out, I made a different list:
I don't know what to name the baby
What if the baby is born with problems?
What if I go into labor and the house it still torn up?
Wait, we're about to have a baby here!
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I just barely wrapped my head around the reality of this baby, alive. Now I realize that after we come out of the other end of this tunnel of uncertainty, another little being will have come out it's own tunnel. And, by the way, it will be staying.
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I am not ready.
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My heart is not ready. In some ways I feel like I just found out I was pregnant a month ago. That isn't much time to prepare.
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And so I have begun fixating. New list:
finish boy's room
fold laundry
freeze meals
pack kid's overnight bags
wipe door jams
hang shelf
clean out closet
organize paper pile...
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It all bubbled to the surface in hormone-filled pregnant tears last night. As Guy comforted me I came to a place of understanding. I realized that I want to be a perfect mom for this baby, but I certainly won't be, so my crazy brain has decided that if I can make everything around me look perfect, perhaps that will compensate somehow.
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I don't want this baby to ever hear me yell (hello, it hears me yell all the time, right now). I don't want to miss any opportunity to help it to grow and develop emotionally into a healthy person. I want to be kind and sweet and healthy and energetic. I don't want to be the old mom.
I want to be patient.
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I want to be perfect.
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I'm not. And I won't be any time soon.
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In a still moment between waves of ranting and tears, I asked Guy to give me a blessing. A blessing is like a special prayer that is said by someone who holds the priesthood on behalf of another person. To people in our faith it is very sacred. By the light of day, freak out past, I remember only bits and snatches of the words that were spoken to me.
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Last list:
Heavenly Father loves us
I can focus on this little being as I partner with God in bringing it here
As I focus, the rest will become "just things to get done"
Peace
Joy

Nesting gone wrong

Once when I was pregnant, I dreamed all night long that I needed a hair cut. I did need a trim, truth be told. I woke up, sort of, the next morning and grabbed some scissors and began to hack at my hair. About 5 minutes in, I woke up the rest of the way when I looked down into a sink full of long hair. Panicking, I called a hair dresser-friend to make an appointment for her to fix it later that day.

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Nesting takes on a whole different meaning when you are planning a home birth. There are things to prepare, and instead of "bringing the baby home" you are already home when the baby arrives. In fact, it is pretty important to have the house tidy so that as you are in labor and birthing there is room for the midwives and their equipment. I have been to a home birth where, due to an early delivery, time had not been taken to clean up the place. I remember scooping up piles of laundry from the floor in her room and trying to clear a messy dresser so that the midwife could set up.

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I usually nest somewhere in the middle end of pregnancy when I can still move. And breathe. And think. Here, four weeks from my due date, I usually have things pretty ready. Usually.

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Somehow I got it into my head that, instead of a tidy room or a sparkling clean kitchen, I needed to repaint the boys room. I had begun a huge mural project several years ago that I gave up on and much to my shame, it has remained that way ever since.

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My friend said she loved to paint. I figured that between the two of us we could knock the whole thing out in a day and a half.

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Ha.

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I "woke up" about half way through the second day of this project, as I, wearing a t-shirt that doesn't cover my belly all the way, and a pair of Guy's old painting shorts with the waist band pulled down low, scooted on a skateboard on my bum painting the bottom section of the wall. I was/am completely useless. I wear out in an hour and have to go lie down. Joanna came for two days and between her, Guy and her husband they have done most of it. I am really embarrassed that I even started this whole mess. We still aren't done.

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To make matters worse, my midwife checked me last week and it would seem that all of the contractions I am having are actually doing things. I am warming up, as it were, and more "ripe" than I was the day I went into labor with Adam.

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Here is the problem. My living room looks like the boys department of a thrift store, as do several other rooms in the house. I have let the laundry slide and about a billion other things.

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I have succeeded in un-feathering my nest.

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At least the boy's room will look nice.

Maybe I will have the baby in there.

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Surprise, indeed

Last night something wonderful happened. After a long day working on the boys room prepping it for a new paint job (which means first ploughing through the rubbish on the floor, dislodging the stockpile of dirty socks behind the bed and evicting the spiders happily inhabiting every corner) I took the kids next door to swim. Our kindly old neighbors graciously let us use their pool often, and so I waddled through the 97 degree heat and occupied a lounge chair in a shady corner with my book while the kids played and splashed. Every so often Ellie came over with cool, wet hands and rubbed them across my shins and feet to cool me off, but eventually I called the kids out of the pool. It was so hot, and I was spent, and we had to get ready to go to my friend, Joanna’s surprise party.

Her birthday is July 4^th, and it is easily overshadowed by other celebrations. She told me of how often husband William had struggled to find a nice way to celebrate for her. I thought it was clever of him, though I told my husband that I was curious as to how William would manage it without her finding out.

We got ready to go, but I was tired. Ellie began to fuss and throw fits, and I told her I would stay home with her if she didn’t cut it out, and tired as I felt, had it been some other occasion I would have welcomed an excuse to stay home. But Joanna is a dear friend who has really been there for me. I couldn’t miss the opportunity to honor her. I dragged to get ready, and because of my schlepping, we were about 10 minutes late to the party. The kids ran ahead as I slid out of the car and followed them in.

As we stepped into the house, a room full of people yelled “Surprise!”, and there stood Joanna, already having arrived. I appreciated the good natured teasing of our late arrival, and felt bad for coming late and missing the chance to surprise her. “I know, I’m sorry we’re late.” I said, stepping aside to ditch my shoes and purse.

“No, Laine, ‘Surprise!’ This is for you”, sweet Joanna smiled broadly, pointing to a sign on the wall that said “Welcome Baby Holman!”. Everyone laughed good-naturedly and some repeated the cantor, “Surprise!” Then finally someone said, “This is your baby shower!”

Then it all washed over me, and the one emotion that of late has been nearest the surface, tender gratitude, flooded my eyes with tears till I could only hold my face in my hands and try to contain it all.

I have told my good friends in the past that, though well they know I have no trouble at all singing in front of audiences of hundreds of people, I would rather go to church naked than be the recipient of a baby shower. Sitting in front of a room full of chattering women, opening gift after gift, expressing thanks over and over again but feeling hurried to move on to the next gift, never feeling able to express enough gratitude, enduring games of word scrambles that include “pacifier”, and “cesarean”… it all overwhelms me. I have never felt so much anxiety as I have sitting through a baby shower that was being given for me. Thankfully, my friends also knew that there is nothing I need for this baby, and so no reason for a baby shower. I thought.

For a fleeting moment, I was flooded with nerves, but then my eyes moved through those kind eyes and laughing faces that filled the room and it was suddenly perfect. It was just my friends. Not my girls friends, but their husband’s too, who are all also my friends, and their little ones; some of whom I have helped be born into this world, others I have tended and fed, and held as they slept. These were the people I share my life with, and the realization melted away my anxiety.

We ate wonderful food that my friends had carefully chosen and prepared in such a way that would be safe for my diet. My sweetie made a dessert that I could enjoy, and we ate and laughed. From time to time as the evening passed along, my mind took it all in and I hugged the moment I was in, fearful that it would too soon be over, but as with this pregnancy, telling myself to be here now, no anticipation, no looking back. Just now.

After dinner we gathered into the living room and I sat snugly amongst my friends, next to my sweet husband. We were gifted with thoughtful, tender gifts, just a few, and not overwhelming at all. Then as we were handed a last gift bag, the energy in the room built, and it was clear that this was to be something special.

As the tissue fell away it revealed a folded blanket. Opening it, instantly I understood. The blanket uncurled on my lap and each panel contained a handmade image. Some were drawn or painted, others appliqued and stitched. There were the words “Hope” and “Faith”, cut carefully from fabric, there were sweetly painted animals, dark velvet and satin hearts and flowers, and gorgeously drawn illustrations, one of pie and chocolate, one of a baby asleep on a cloud, and finally, one of our family. There, a couple stood beneath a tree, their four children gathered round them, gazing at a smiling baby held in the center of their circle of love. Heidi, who had drawn it, whispered humbly that the tree was a reference to the tree where all of our lost babies are buried, and that about the neck of the mama was my special locket that holds the names of those lost little ones. Who could hold back the tears? I wept freely.

I am so thankful for friends who know us so well. I didn’t think we needed anything, and really we don’t need any-thing. But these are the people who have braced us up against the storms of the past few years. They have sat on our couch with us with tears in their eyes and held us while we cried. They have tended our children while we sat through uncertain doctors appointments, brought food and, of course, pie. They have sheltered us from conversations and comments that would be painful for us, and have cautiously encouraged us as we so tentatively embarked on this pregnancy.

The evening ended too soon, and I left with such feelings of peace, joy, and gratitude. As I lay down that night, I thought of these past few years and the good, loving people, here and far away who have borne up our family through joy and pain. No family could be more blessed with wonderful friends than ours has been.

Thank you Slaughters, Heumanns, Mathews, Jensens, Motts, and Chantal.

We love you.

Being in the Present

In January I had an appointment at the dentist for my usual cleaning with Holli, who I have been seeing faithfully for years now. If she ever quits, I swear I will simply stop brushing my teeth and let them all fall out. At that visit, I was supposed to have x-rays.
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"Um, I can't" I had said quietly, "I'm pregnant."

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Holli knew about all of our losses, and at the end of our appointment wished me a loving good-luck, saying she hoped to see me in six months with a big round belly and a matching smile. As I got to the car, I pictured the two scenarios; walking into the office with a full-moon belly, or walking in with a flat one. I figured it would be the latter.

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I hadn't realized until yesterday what a milestone my next appointment had become in my mind until I stood up in the waiting room to walk back to my cleaning with Holli.

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"Look what I brought." I giggled, pointing at my bulging lump. She squealed and hugged, and there I was, on the other side of the six months, best case scenario a reality. I sort of gushed and bubbled inside with joy. It was like a lid opened in my heart and all of the tension and breath holding and waiting just splooshed out of me (right here is where you open a 2 liter bottle of root beer and hear the pressure built up there just... ppsstttt!!!! release!).

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When I left, there were well wishes and promises to bring the new baby on my next visit. Wow. How cool is that.

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When I got home, there was a package on the table with pastel foot prints and hand prints all over it. "It's a baby present from Mary at work." Guy had said casually.

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"A baby present?" I said in shock. I hadn't even thought of that, and as I did, tears just sprang into my eyes and tumbled down my silly face.

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Really? A baby present?

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How cool is that.

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Then, today I had an appointment. Not with my midwife (that is tomorrow), but with a therapist that I have been checking in with to develop a plan in the event that I experience another bad bout of post partum depression. Our last visit had focused on fear, acceptance, and trying to release judgement. This time, it was just about now, about realizing that I am just weeks away from holding our baby.

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"It's time to get ready." she said. Her words splashed over me and echoed in my head.

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She challenged me to begin taking out a few baby things and preparing the house. "On the 11th, Sunday, it will be one month till your due date. Why don't you start Sunday?"

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Whoa.

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I agreed, but when I got home, I found the getting ready had begun without me. The birth kit had arrived and was sitting on the table.

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We opened it and checked the contents; suctioning devices and cord clamps, gauze tissues, sterile gloves, anti bacterial cleansers and ...

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one tiny, white hat.

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Ellie stood by with a thousand questions. She grabbed for the hat, but I shooed her away from it, "We have to keep everything sterile," I said. Then Guy leaped ahead, "Yeah, we have to get the receiving blankets out and sterilize them, too. Do we still have them?"

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I don't know. I will have to look. Soon, I guess.

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How. cool. is. that.

Why the Chinese invented fireworks

Last year I was 6 weeks pregnant and sick-o-delic when the fourth came around. We did celebrate, but not in the fashion I was accustomed to. Remembering my laments of a summer lost due to my inattentiveness, I made an extra effort this year.

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Being as the actual 4th fell on a Sunday, we chose to celebrate on the 3rd. I generally have an adverse reaction to "crafts". As a joke on my wedding one of my bridesmaids gave me a glue gun, because I had sworn I would never use one (alas, I have been through 3 now. I mean, who can make a mission or fix toys without one, I ask you?). But we knocked ourselves out making freezer-paper stenciled t-shirts this time around (glue gun not required, but I will admit to using puffy paint and... (choke) sequins!). The results were not too shabby, if I may say so. I cranked out a patriotic, minimal-effort-confection of angel food cake and berries, and threw on my only red shirt. We looked very star-spangled, indeed.

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We (and by we, I mean Guy) made food and schlepped our way over to our friends', the Slaughters, for fireworks. We ate far too much and then parked ourselves on the lawn for the light show. Guy and I sat in the warm evening breeze and reminisced about our first fireworks show together when we were dating, and joked that our second had been our honeymoon. As I watched Tessa enjoying the light display, I remembered that last year at that time she had just chopped off her hair. Now with her tresses cascading to her shoulders I can see what a difference a year makes.

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The kids have enjoyed a year in a new school, and I have seen amazing progress in each of them. The fears and uncertainty of a new school community have given way to new friends and familiar routines. Guy was about to begin yet another dreary year of evening and Saturday classes, yet here we sit hand-in-hand in our lawn chairs at the end of it, Guy with his credential completed. A year ago the future would hold the heartache of another lost baby, fertility testing and a thousand prayers for guidance and direction. The baby that now hiccups as I type, bumping the laptop that these days barely fits on what's left of my lap, warms my heart like the coming of summer has warmed the evening air.

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What a joyful shift in our lives this year has brought.

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The Chinese celebrate the new year with fireworks. They and other cultures celebrate the spring as the true beginning of the new year.

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I pick summer.

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Happy (New Year) Fourth of July!

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("Now I will look skinny!" Joanna states as she hides behind my ginormous belly. I have to admit, next to that melon she looks a size 2!)

Illumination

For the past many months, I have had a check list in my head. Christmas, check; Ellie’s b-day, Guy’s, then Tessa’s and Ethan's, check-checkedy-check; last day of classes for Guy, yeah!-check, and then for the kids, check.

Vacation… check.

Guess what is next on the check list?

Baby.

There are six weeks left. I am in the phase of pregnancy when everything starts to loosen up, and the connective tissue threatens to allow all inner organs to fall on the ground. My waddle has transformed into a full-on lumber. I am a turtle on it’s back, completely helpless to right myself when ever the couch swallows me up. Heartburn is my new BFF. By the end of each day my feet look like latex gloves that someone has blown up to use as balloons to distract a crying child, my back is stiff, and my brain is utter mush.

It is a perfect system.

We get this way because we need to reach a point when we are willing to consider the possibility of pushing a 9 pound bowling ball through a donut hole. If pregnancy were comfortable at the end, we would all still be pregnant with our first. Pregnant women feel beautiful for the most part. No reason to suck in a full belly, breasts that stand up all on their own, and that wonderful feeling of secret mystery that you are connected to a divine force that needs you like you have never been needed before. Who would walk away from that?

I suppose it is time to get ready. In past pregnancies I have scurried around getting items together for my births; scented oils and calming music for labor, clothes in the right colors for the naked one, the whole nine yards. I usually read and read and READ everything that I can to prepare for birth. My mind is normally a humming beehive of activity as I prepare for the event as though it were a wedding.

Not this time.

I have no lists.

I have no agenda.

I have no stuff.

The baby clothes wait in their bins in the garage. The cradle, still dusty, sits in the rafters. I have ordered my birth kit, as that is pretty important in a technical sense (a birth kit has all of the medical items that are needed for the birth like cord clamps, gauze pads and sterile gloves). But to be honest, all of the rest of it seems silly to me at the moment.

I have done this several times now, and each time I have re-learned the lesson that a new baby doesn’t require much. All of the fancy do-dahs are really for the parents. As long as I have diapers, (check) and milk (double-D-check), I am ready.

It has taken a long time to realize that we are probably going to have a live baby at the end of all of this. Over the vacation I somehow got there, and now there is all I need or want to be. It's like someone opened the curtains on my mind and let the light stream in.

For today, I don’t need anything but the kicks I feel inside.

Ten days away

We’re home. Ten days away seems like a moment, and a century. Because I am so big and slow and sore, I pretty much just sat and contemplated my children, my marriage and my life while I watched my family play the days away. I observed my thought patterns and recognized how often I was tempted to interfere, interject or intercede, but was too tired to bother. And in the absence of all of my chatter, I was able to simply witness my family and who each person really is. I felt emotions swell up inside of me like the waves nearby on the sand, and then pull away. I heard my internal judge, my editor, and my drill sergeant rant and rave, and then be quieted by the sounds of the wind, waves, birds and laughter of the children.
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At the end of our trip, I asked the kids what their favorite parts had been. One by one they mentioned moments, places and things they experienced and Guy and I smiled at their appreciation of the days spent together. Don’t get me wrong; there were certainly squabbles and scoldings. In fact, when asked what her favorite was, Ellie said, “Everything accept when we were fighting and getting in trouble” to which Tessa chimed in, “Yah!” It wasn’t perfect, but since perfection isn’t likely when a family of six is in a packed van for 8 hours or sharing a 2 bedroom condo for a week, overall, I feel really pretty good about the whole thing.

As I flip through the pictures of the trip, I see in my heart what is not in them: Guy taking care of everything; the shopping, the cooking, the loading and unpacking, being the fun parent while mama rested, rubbing my oh-so-sore back and tummy when I couldn’t sleep, even arranging my 5 pillows so that I could try to get comfortable at night. I hear Ethan and Adam giggling in their room, the girls singing and dancing, and all of us together with nothing to do except be together. There were a million moments I didn't capture with the camera that stood still in my heart. I am so blessed to have this sweet family, to be married to a dear and devoted companion and friend, and to be welcoming another spirit into our lives soon.

Sometimes it takes time away from your life to help you to actually see how great your life is.

I have noticed that as time goes by, somehow my memories fade and only the images in the photos remain as reminders of our time spent together. I think that my heaven would be to have every memory back, crisp and new like it just happened, but until then I have my pictures.

Here are my favorite ones…

All smiles

lovely...

Sweet time with daddy, "De waves make us feewl wike we ah moving!" says Tessa.

Adam takes on the sea!

Daddy at his best

Chapter 1: I read a whole book on vacation!

The boys making a seaweed pile

She looks like a sculpture to me

Sun bunny...

dead sun bunny...

Dad showing off Adam's father's day gift to him

Is that bubble bath in our toilet? Why yes, it is. From the people upstairs!

Thank you Cartoon Network. Because of you we had a whole week of sleeping in.

Mama making a mermaid out of Ellie

then back to my chair!

Sand castle, by daddy and the girls

On this day, they insisted they WERE NOT going to get wet and left suits back at the room. Ha. Yeah, right.

One of a million smiles

Sisterly love

My gorgeous family.

Just think, next summer there will be one more smile in the pictures we take!

Gone Fishin'

Ah, it's vacation time.

No school, no responsibilities, no schedules, and no internet access for a week or so.

Be back in a few...

Banned

I have been banned.

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I apparently have embarrassed one of my children by posting about him/her on my blog.

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I am not to mention him/her anymore.

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So I won't.

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Maybe.

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I mean, he/she never reads my blog anyway.

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So I won't mention how cool it is to hear him practice his new guitar. I won't mention how proud I was when he paid for his guitar lessons with yard work, and his teacher told me how hard he had worked. I won't say a word about how a few days before, to earn some money he mowed a friend's 2-foot high lawn, stayed till the last blade was cut and then mowed another lawn on his way home because an old lady asked him to.

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I won't mention that he leaves the bathroom tidy after he showers, or that he comforts his little sister when she gets hurt. I can't say a word about how he is becoming such a wonderful young man, and how proud I am of him.

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So I won't.

Welcome Summer

Everyone knows the last few days of the school year are a complete waste. My kids are spending their last days watching movies and having water games rather than doing work, while teachers wind down their rooms and turn in their grades. We have had “Hawaiian day”, “Game day”, and “Crazy hair day”. Lately, every morning feels like Halloween, with costumes to be put together. Tomorrow they are supposed to were their pajamas. I am not even sure how I feel about that.

Adam feels justified, “I have been doing work all year!!!” I guess he doesn’t see it the way I do.

This is my point: if they aren’t going to have the kids work, I wish they would just be done with it and let me keep my kids home.

I love having my kids home for a long lazy summer. I love their sleepy faces in the morning and seeing them snuggled together on the couch, peaceful for a time, while they watch morning cartoons. I love our routine of 3 minute patrol, which keeps the house tidy, the mama less stressed. And I love knowing that this year, instead of dreading the close of summer, we will be looking forward to the arrival of a new little one to our family. It will be the cherry on top.

Yesterday on the radio, the announcer sang out, “Summer’s almost here!” and I realized that I love those three words. I love them like I love extra dark chocolate and garage sales with amazing finds. I remember the magic of the first days of summer from my childhood; the first morning you realize you don’t have to do what other people tell you every minute of the day, eating cereal at 10 AM, wandering through days with no particular schedule, parks and swimming and summer fruit and corn on the cob. As the days get longer it feels as though the earth is taking longer breaths, sighing out the the end of the day slowly in warm, glowing, late evening sunsets.

As much as I love summer, sometimes I freak out a little the first few days. I am shocked at the sudden change and not sure I can settle into the new routine, even though I know it will be fun. But it is not long before summer fever slows my mind and brings out my smile.

The other day, Crazy Hair Day to be exact, Tessa wanted to join in the festivities. The night before as I braided Ellie’s hair to make it frizzy, Tessa asked for her hair to be done too. I twisted it into tight little rolls to be taken out the next morning.

The kids got ready the next day, hair askew, and headed out the door. Tessa was asleep and didn’t get to see the kids with their crazy hair. When she got up I took the rolls out of her hair and fluffed the willing curls into a Shirley Temple-like fro.

She looked in the mirror and burst into tears.

“My haiw will nebah be norhmal again!” she wailed.

With a little comforting and explanation about the temporary nature of the situation, by the end of the afternoon Tessa had embraced her new look and enjoyed the kids reactions to her.

Sometimes change is a shock, even if it is a fun change that won’t last forever.

“Summer’s almost here!”

Jello

“You smell like parfait.” – Tessa, May 2010

I guess sometimes people see what they want to see, and smell what they want to smell.

*****

I can’t say that my mind has been as quiet a place as this page would reflect lately, but my thoughts have been in a holding pattern, waiting to congeal into solid jello. Indeed I do have jello for brains.

This week the boys caught a frog whilst mowing a neighbors lawn. Adam ran home excitedly with it to plop it into our little front yard pond. It dove in right away and happy (I swear it was smiling) as you please sat right atop one of my large lily pads, which willingly supported its weight. Soon it plunged in to the cool, dark water and swam into the reeds to hide. The girls watched it blink for half an hour.

We had a frog. A frog for our pond. No frog could be luckier.

I have not seen him since. By the next day the pond was quiet and still again.

Who knows why some choices are made? Why would a frog rather live in the long, dry grass of an empty house than the generous and rich environment of a cool, deep pond? Why do we sometimes take ourselves away from what we know is best for us, our ideal spiritual place, to inhabit a place that will not feed our souls; will not nourish our spirits?

***

Like I said. Jello.

Animal Kingdom

This morning when I went to get dressed, there was a tiny triceratops in my left shoe.

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Sometimes there are ponies in my purse.

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I have had lizards in the laundry baskets,

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and quite often there are leopards in my bed.

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But it's the zebras at the kitchen watering hole

that really make me smile.

In a fight between Zorro and Dumbledore...

...who would win?

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I mean, Dumbledore has the whole magic thing on his side, but who can argue with a 3 foot long blade?

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There is something so wonderful about two cool, big boys who are too embarrassed to kiss their mama goodbye at school,

but who still put on costumes to have a trampoline battle.

(Looks like Zorro is winning. Are we surprised? I guess without his wand, Dumbledore is just a really nice old dude in a dress.)

Bloom

When we lost the first baby

8 years ago, several friends brought flowers and cards. I remember a dozen beautiful roses that arrived and sat on my dresser. By the next day, the head of every single pink bud had inexplicably bowed down and died, never having opened. The symbolism of it was just too much for me.

I was also given a couple of live flowering plants. An orchid and a violet. Over these years since that time, I have watered and cared for them. They have only flowered once or twice, with a single, frail bloom that faded quickly.

This week, something amazing has happened. The violets (which by now have divided into several plants) have begun to bloom.

No, not bloom. Explode!

Eight stunning blossoms with broad faces and glittery, vibrant purple petals have burst from the plants, with several more clusters of unopened buds making their way to the light.

Why now? Why, after years in the same window ledge have they suddenly begun to flower?

I imagine there is a scientific reason of some sort… some random change in the environment of our home’s climate, maybe how often I water… that may have changed. But isn’t it amazing that now -of all times, of all years- these plants are coming alive?

I am 30 weeks pregnant today.