A T-Wain party

This is a picture of the cake I made for Logan's second birthday. Logan absolutely loves trains. Anyone who spends any time with me and my sons knows that even that is an understatement. We live less than a block away from the tracks and every train that goes by gets a proper introduction. "Choo, Choo", and "A T-wain" are daily phrases in my house.

That is why, when it came time to discuss Logan's birthday, I knew I wanted to make this cake. I wanted it to be perfect. Even looking at it now, I see the flaws and imperfections glaringly. Those things didn't matter. Logan was thrilled with the cake. You can see the pride in his face.

I know that Logan probably won't even remember this cake. That's not the point. Childhood is a collage of memories that make up the person we are. My hope is that Logan will take this memory and tuck it away with all the other moments that he felt loved and important.

Life with Logan.

I watched Toy Story 3 the other day and I wept. I couldn't help but connect with the story. Logan has a doll (piglet) that he carries everywhere. In the past month I have watched piglet go from being a comforting object to an important person in my son's life. Logan uses piglet to process the things that are occurring around him. The other day he sat piglet on the potty chair and told him, "pee, pee". It is a daily occurance for piglet to get nibbles of Logan's snacks, to get rocked good night, and to play with his train. Piglet is not an animal, he is a baby. Logan recently went from being the only child in a circle of adults to one of many. He is not just one in a crowd to me though. He is a very special boy.
My favorite time of day is when I am tucking Logan in at night. Not only does life get a little quieter, but there's no greater feeling than a child clinging to you, in love. He holds on like it's our last moment together. He lays his head on my shoulder, snuggles in for me to kiss him on the head, and says, "nigh, nigh". I melt. I want to hold him there, close to my heart forever. I want to forget about the moments in the day when I thought I'd lose it. If I could just freeze time and let the world go spinning by, that would be ideal.
I get a little melancholy thinking about Logan growing up. It's hard to believe that he will be two on Friday. I am sad and delighted that one day Logan will move on, grow up, and find other people to love. For now, I will cherish these simple moments that fill our lives. I know they are fleeting.

The braiding slopes of motherhood

Recently, I was reminded of a time at winter camp with some of my youth group. We were up at camp Davidson, near sisters. It was a very cold February with buckets of snow. In fact, the building that once housed "the snack shack" was completely submerged. I was absolutely unprepared. I don't "do" snow and therefore had none of the gear to support such an adventure.

My story begins on the first night of camp. The group of us were headed to chapel, which was in no way an easy task, when all of a sudden my left leg sunk into the snow. It was buried clear up to my hip. So there I am miserable, cold and thinking to myself that I am in NO way suitable to be the chaperone for these teens. After all, I am only 3-4 years older than most of them. My youth girls are trying their hardest to help dig me out. I am doing the same while precariously balancing the urge to laugh and the urge to sob. Along comes this kid who says, "It's much easier if you walk on the path".
At the time, I didn't appreciate his comment very much. In fact, I think I spouted something along the lines of, "WHAT PATH?!" Real mature, right?

Lately though, I have been thinking about that comment and wondering if that kid, wherever he may be, realizes how completely profound and impactual his statement was. As a mom and wife, I often feel like I am back in that snow pack with my leg caught up to my hip. I keep waiting for someone to come by and point out the obvious. I wonder sometimes why life seems so easy for other mothers out there. I hear stories of my friends' mothering triumphs, or see them maneuvering with grace and ease. I look at my life and see mostly controlled chaos. It is during these moments that I realize that the reason life seems hard is because I have chosen a different path for me and my kids.

Truthfully, we all choose our own paths for ourselves. I am choosing a path for my family that does not have a clearly defined road map. If I only wanted survival for my kids, life would be much easier, but I want so much more for them. My biggest desire is for them to grow into respectful, purposeful, and responsible men of God. I realize that only with God's help can that come to fruition. For someone who is a doer, the realization that I am not, nor ever will be, enough is a hard pill to swallow.

The truth of the matter is this, being a parent is the hardest thing I have ever done. I am sure that I will look back, when my kids are grown, and whince a little. No matter how hard I try to do things just right, I know there will be moments of failure. At the end of the day, if I have more triumphs than failures, I will count it as a win. I just hope, after all is said and done, that my boys know how much they are valued.

That brings me back to winter camp. Although the weekend was cold, and in my mind, miserable. There were many bonds that were created there. There was one girl in my youth, in particular, who shared this weekend with me in a very real way. I braided her hair. It is amazing how something so simple can do so much. To her, it was not about the hair, it was an act of love. To her, it said, "you are valuable" and "you are loved". To me, it was the only thing I thought I had to offer these girls. I couldn't buy them splendor. I couldn't take away hurts. One strand at a time though, I could let them know that they were special. They were important. They were valued.

I try to remember this weekend as I go through the tedious tasks in life. Such simple acts as doing laundry or making my husbands lunch are acts of love. These small things in life tell someone how much you value and care for them. If I think of it that way, it is easier to charge into my daily chores with enthusiasm. After all, they serve a much greater purpose.

If I have anything to learn from the boy on the path, it is this: Sometimes the path may not be clearly defined. Sometimes you may get stuck in a rut. Ultimately though, we have to pursue the path that feels right and do our best to conquer it.

motherhood

I was reading my last post and realizing how incredibly negative it sounded. The truth of the matter is that having two children under the age of two can be quite overwhelming. Everyone I have talked to who have children in similar spans tell me the same thing, "The first nine months are the hardest." Eventually, little Gavin will begin to entertain himself a little more and not be quite so demanding of my attention. Then I can split myself a little more equally.
Having a second child is so different from having your first, for sure. With Logan, I could dedicate every free moment to his every whim. Gavin has been forced to cry a little longer and maybe not had as much snuggle time as Logan had. His contented moments sweep me away to give his brother a little one-on-one time and attention. My biggest fear is that Logan will feel slighted and that Gavin will feel neglected.
My psychology training reminds me that these times will teach patience and waiting. These are good lessons that both my boys need to learn. The mother in me wants to cuddle my boys one on one without limit.
Going back to work has complicated this even more. It's been much harder this time. My time is even further divided between being a mother, wife, and career woman. I know that these moments are only momentary and soon we will find our niche as a family. Until then, I will take a deep breath, count to ten, enjoy the moments we have, and try to focus on the blessings.

Rubix Cubes and loves

My husband and I have entered a spot in life that I, as a teenager, said I would never be in. We have two children under the age of two. My boys are almost exactly 19 months apart. We didn't exactly plan it that way, but that is where we are in life. While I was pregnant, I worried about how Logan would adjust to having to share our attention. Turns out my worry was somewhat justified. He is not too fond of the idea.

Logan, who is currently 21 months old, has begun to enter the terrible two phase of life. He likes to throw things. Most often his intended target is his little brother. If they were two years older I probably wouldn't give it much thought, but when your almost two year old chucks a rubix cube at your newborn's head, it gives you a moments pause. In reality, it infuriates me. I have tried everything in the book to get him to stop hitting and/or throwing things at his brother.

People have told me that I should focus more on the positive behaviors he is exibiting. That's a great plan if he would actually do something positive. People say to ignore the behavior. Again, difficult when your other child's soft spot is in jeopardy. Yes, my nearly two has impeccable aim. Others have said that I should include my eldest and encourage him to help with the baby. I tried that. It usually looks something like tickle, tickle, squeeze, *smack* *smack*. Aarg!

To be fair, in the midst of this chaos, there are glimpses of love and protection that shine through Logan's demeanor toward his brother. He is slowly getting used to the idea of having Gavin in the house. Gavin seems to be adjusting into a happy, smiley baby. I keep telling myself that the first nine months are the hardest. When this phase is over, I know they will be the best of friends. At least that is what people tell me and I repeat it to myself daily.

For now, we are trying to spend as much valuable time with Logan, one on one, as we can. Hopefully, he will not feel jilted when this phase of life is over. It is my hope that, as time passes, my boys will feel equally loved and cherished. They truly are blessings from God even when they stretch me to my limits.

Gavin's Birth story

Gavin's birth story really is not all that spectacular. They say that second births are easier than the first, and that was definitely the case for me. The pregnancy, on the other hand, was filled with adventures. Between having a dislocated pelvis for five months and having cellulitus from a root canal gone wrong, labor seemed like a piece of cake.

On June 25, 2010, after close to two weeks of labor, my doctor finally decided it was time to intervene. I was at 5 cm and 80% effaced but not going into transitional labor. I reported to the hospital at 7:00 am and they hooked me up to several monitoring devices. The doctor broke my water around 8:00 am. My contractions continued to get worse. Around 10:30 or 11:00 my contractions hit hard and fast. I went from uncomfortable yet tolerable to completely overwhelmed with labor in about two seconds. Before we knew it my contractions were about a minute apart and lasting about 45 seconds, and they were STRONG.

Around 12:30 I was able to get an epidural. The process of receiving an epidural was touchy due to the fact that my contractions were so close together and incredibly intense. After that it was pretty smooth sailing. The nurse had me do a practice push at 4:00 at which time we decided I was ready. Once the doctor got there I pushed through 2 1/2 contractions and Gavin was here. The only complication with this point of delivery was that Gavin was born with the umbilical cord around his neck. We anticipated that some as every time I had a contraction his heart rate would drop.

Logan's birth story

November 2008
It all started at about 11 AM on November 18th. I started feeling a little crampy and my back was aching pretty fiercely. I told my coworker Kim that something just didn't feel right, and that I was anxious to see where I was at when I went to my doctor's appointment at 2:15PM. When I went to the doctor though, she said that there was no progress and that she didn't want me to come back in for another week when my doctor was back in the office. Of course I burst into tears and decided I was going to be pregnant forever because I was already a day over my due date. Little did I know, the process had already begun.
I went to visit with my sisters who decided to take me walking around the mall. My cramps, got increasingly uncomfortable, but I was determined that it was just Logan sitting on my nerves. About 7:30 Aric suggested that we time the "intensity" of the cramps. Low and behold, they were most intense about 10 minutes apart. Within a couple of hours, the cramps persisted and I could definitely feel peaks in their intensity. By 10 PM, they were peaking about 5 minutes apart. I called the doctor and she said to come in.
They tried putting me in the jacuzzi, but it only intensified the pain. They tried giving me morphine to slow it down if it was false, and it intensified the contractions. By 4:30 AM, the nurse decided to check me and I had progressed quite a bit, so they admitted me.
At this point, my contractions were not registering on the monitor because he was facing up (posterior) and I was having back labor. They eventually gave me an epidural, pitocin, and broke my water. My body went into shock, so I was convulsing with every contraction. The epidural stopped working and they tried adjusting it. It stopped working completely right about the time that I needed to start pushing (2:30 PM).
The doctor came in around 5:00PM and I was still pushing. She realized that he was sideways, but that his head was turned up. He was stuck. She tried to turn him (ow!), but to no avail. After pushing for 3 1/2 hours, vomiting with nearly every contraction, and a few stitches later...Logan James was born at 5:30PM. He was a whopping 8 lbs 5 oz, 20 1/2 inches long, and had a 14 1/4 inch head.

Reality

April 23, 2009

What is normal? Every human being who has ever breathed has at one point analyzed this question. If you hadn’t before now, you just did. I have been thinking a lot about this question and what it means in my life. The piece of this question that has been baffling me, as of late, is that everybody’s “normal” or “reality” is altered moment by moment.
I digress. Ten years ago two boys walked into their school in ....Colorado.... and opened up a festival of gun fire, killing more than a dozen people. Just a year earlier, there was a similar tragedy with fewer victims in ....Oregon..... The moment these boys put their toes on these campuses, the reality of every person in and around those schools that day changed forever. These people entered a reality that had to somehow include these shootings and loss.
Part of the grieving process is adjusting to a new reality. My good friend Erika died last year on ..April 24, 2008.. unexpectedly in her sleep. To my knowledge, they never did find out why. That morning, when her son Jon called me, my reality was altered. I had to move on with life without this vital person. Her death required me to adhere to a reality that now did not include one of the most important people in my life.
Several things shifted in my reality. One shift was that when I was overly stressed or overly happy about something, I could not pick up the phone and call or text her as I normally would. I had a choice to make in my grief. I could either choose someone else to help fill this significant gap, or I could turn inward and experience life on my own. This transfer was grueling. I can’t recall how many times I picked up the phone to call her only to realize I couldn’t.
One other modification is that I no longer am stunned when someone abruptly exits my life, whether through death or otherwise. When my friend Susie, my cousin Lora, and my uncle Richard all passed away last year without warning, it became a little less shocking with each incidence. Death and loss has become part of my reality. Whether that is healthy or not is beside the point.
Thinking back on the Thurston and Columbine shootings, I wonder what kind of reality those people walked into. When I was going to school at LBCC, I met a girl who attended Thurston when the shootings happened. She had not been at school that day because the Seniors were scheduled to arrive later due to the fact that the underclassmen were doing scheduling that morning. I remember talking to her and being stunned by her annoyance toward the staff at Thurston after the shooting. Apparently, the staff was so consumed by the tragedy that occurred, they were not very sympathetic or helpful to those students that who were trying to move on with their lives and get on with graduation. This student had been affected by the tragedy, but in a way that was overlooked. I had assumed, as an outsider, that all of the staff and students would walk around in fear, moping over their loss. Not everyone’s reality was altered that way.
As I think on this, and on the fact that they are testing my son for Leukemia (see my bulletin), I wonder what my new reality is going to be. Will it be a reality that is riddled with fear and loss, or one with close calls and triumphs? Soon, the realities of today will fade away, but yet a distant memory.

What is your reality?

Pregnancy, Parenting, and Life

I haven't written anything in a while because, quite frankly, I have been too busy trying to cope with life to even think about it. Today marks 33 weeks and 6 days pregnant. If you'd have asked me at week 20, I would have thought that I would never make it this far. It is hard to believe that I have just over 6 weeks left. At least that is the timeline I have been given.

This pregnancy has been a bit of a whirlwind. Between running after my nearly 18 month old son, dealing with a dislocated pelvis, and being severely anemic, I really haven't had much time or energy to deal with anything else. As I etch closer to D day (delivery day), my fear and anxiety is starting to get to me a little. First there is the impending realization that we have yet to do anything to prepare for this baby. Ok, that's not fair, we did bring the baby clothes out of the garage and set them, still in their rubbermaid containers, in the baby's room. Second is the realization that not only will I be a mother, but I will be a mother to two boys. When I got pregnant, I was sure I wanted boys. They're easier, right? That's what everyone keeps telling me. In some ways I think this will be true. I won't have to go prom dress shopping. I won't have to be the main support or planner of my sons' weddings. I, hopefully, won't have the drama of my child yelling "you're ruining my life" at me when I put my foot down.

I think to myself, 'yes, this will be easier', and then reality strikes. First, boys equal rough energy. Already at his fresh age Logan emits this intoxicating, overwhelming, bubble of raw energy. It is not just perpetual motion I am talking about either, it is this rough and tumble gotta move, gotta pound, gotta explode energy. He is all boy. I am beginning to realize that no matter who you are or who (or what gender) your children are, parenting is never easy. There will always be those things that cause conflict, worry, and pain. On the other hand, there will be those moments of joy, heart warming, and laughter. Nothing warms the heart more than when your child makes it apparent that they want to be as close to you as possible and noone in the universe can be a subsitute.

All this being said, I am measuring 4 weeks early with this pregnancy and a small part of me hopes that this baby comes sooner rather than later. I can't wait to meet Mr. Gavin Eugene Angel and launch this journey together a little sooner.