Eliza's Newborn Pictures

These pictures were taken a week before we closed on Meadowbrook. You wouldn't know it by looking at them, but I was barely holding it together. Four kids, a newborn, packing, I had gone back to work the week before. We took all of the pictures in my bedroom, because it was the only room that wasn't completely or partially packed. Boxes everywhere, exposed nail holes on the walls. A mess. Me, the house, my life. I ordered 5 dresses from ASOS (free expedited shipping and free returns, can I get an hallelujah?!) and wore the only one that fit. And thank goodness one fit!



I have learned so much about myself over the last year; I imagine this growth is just the beginning. One of the things I have come to appreciate is that I don't let the bad stuff ruin what's good. A new baby. A new sister. The love that comes from that, all good stuff. The rest of it? It's over and I survived.



I knew even though so many parts of that week were parts I would want to forget, this moment wasn't one of them. It's so easy to talk about (or think about) our problems, but it's so much more enjoyable to talk about (or think about) our joys. These photos are some of my greatest joys.

The Collapse. Midnight. Then Peace.

I have been meaning to capture Eliza's birth story before the tiny details escape me, but there is a slightly larger story to tell and one that I have been both afraid to share and covetous of sharing. It has been such a deeply personal series of moments that have brought me great pain and greater comfort and I hesitate to be that exposed. But if I am to tell the story of how she came to be born, then I feel I must tell it from the beginning.



It is not easy to go through a pregnancy and terminate a marriage simultaneously. In fact, at times it feels emotionally impossible. The night Eliza was born, I sat in my hospital bed holding her, nursing her, while editing the Memorandum of Understanding which executes my separation and precedes my divorce. The dichotomy of being filled with so much love and so much anguish concurrently is a space I hope to never feel again.



---

The Spirit Guide

About halfway through my pregnancy I felt heavy. My soul felt heavy. I worried about what this energy would do to the baby, how it was affecting her. So I began seeing a woman for Reiki with the goal of clearing out some of the darkness. I only managed to go twice in nine months. Taking care of myself isn't something I have a lot of time for, but the sessions were powerful.



During the first session, Eliza didn't stop moving, wriggling, writhing. It was like the movement of the energy was giving her new life. I woke up from the session with an unstoppable force of tears rolling down my face. If you know me, you know that I don't cry. I just don't cry. This release was so necessary and so important. The healer who performed the session hugged me hard when it was over. I joke now, that I paid $80 for a hug. Ill-timed jokes are my thing when I am maxed out or vulnerable. In truth, it was the best $80 I had spent all year. It was also the first hug I'd had all year.



I walked away feeling lighter, but not clearer.



Session two came nearly a month later, I drifted into that space between awake and asleep and felt the baby move and felt my fears rise and felt my breathing slow down, almost stop. I was literally drowning in the fear, I could feel myself holding onto it, worrying how I was going to do this all and do this all on my own. And that's when I felt something or someone hold my hand. It was warm and it squeezed my hand and I knew that I would find the strength to make it through, I knew that I would be okay.



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The Dark Night of the Soul

On September 24, we received the first offer on our house. It was $70,000 below asking price. It was an offer we could never take, as doing so would mean I didn't even have enough money to start over again, to put a roof over my babies' heads. We were deep in the thick of our separation and feelings were everywhere. The offer ignited fear in both Joe and I, and manifested into how we each process that feeling of being afraid. It was a new low. I felt like this would never be over, we would never come out of it, I would never survive. And what came after between us took me to a place where I lost all hope.



After putting my babies down for bed, choking back tears, I slid into the bathtub where I cried. I cried so hard I vomited all over myself several times. I cried until the water went cold and then I cried long after it had gotten cold. And I prayed for death. I acknowledged that I didn't have the strength to survive, and I had lost the will. I acknowledged that the fear and sadness had consumed me. And I prayed for the end of it all. I prayed that god would just take me and let me leave the pain of this world and this body, but that someone would find me in time to save the baby. I asked god to send me a sign that everything would be okay or to just take my life, let me go, just save her.



That's when I felt something reach through me and embrace me. I felt something holding me up. I felt something comforting me. This force held me until I caught my breath. And, again, I knew that I would find the strength to make it through.

---

September 25, 2014

At nearly 37 weeks pregnant everything felt like effort. That Thursday was no different. All three kids had school, I had deadlines to meet for work, life wasn't stopping or even pretending to slow down.



The kids were zoo-y and Ryan's bus was late, making the girls late for school and me late for a conference call. I fought with Reese. I felt numb. After making it through what felt like the longest morning and afternoon in history, I got to 4 p.m. only to find out that Joe was stuck at work and, of course, I hadn't gone to the grocery store. There was nothing in the house to make for dinner and I was feeling too spent to attempt shopping with all three in tow.



Joe got home at 6:30 which is when we normally have dinner on the table, and we left to go to a restaurant nearby. One that we had never been to. The kids were still sideways and shouting and fighting and vying for attention. The adults were exhausted and trying to discuss the offer on the house, the day before, trying to pick up pieces and make them fit. We walked into the restaurant around 7:15 and were seated and then promptly ignored. And when the third drink got knocked over, after the fifth tantrum had started and the fourth toy was thrown in anger, we got up and left. And now it was 7:45 -- just fifteen minutes before bedtime -- and our kids still weren't fed, or bathed, or even home.



I called a local pizza place that has a sit down restaurant and placed a dine-in order over the phone. I explained that we had three overtired kids and we would drive around for 15 minutes before coming inside, to avoid pre-meal meltdowns. While trying to place the order my phone dropped the call four times. It seemed as though every part of life was trying to test me. When it rains it pours.



We sat down at the booth and the food came out shortly after sitting. Perhaps the only good thing about feeding our brood two hours later than normal was that they were hungry and it was finally quiet. There was so much to talk about in the quiet space, but all we could do was sit expressionless and be thankful that we were almost at the end of another day. We likely looked as hollow as we felt.



The waitress came to our table and asked us if we needed anything else, and I told her, "just the check."



To which she replied, "it's taken care of."



"What?"



"That lady sitting over there bought you all dinner, she's almost done with her meal. I thought you'd want to know before she left."



I walked over to her table, exhausted, leading with a 9 month belly that surely had tomato sauce underneath in the places you stop being able to see after a while. She was sitting with a near-empty pint of beer, middle-aged, unassuming, married (wearing a ring), but eating alone. I warned her that I was a hugger and that the pregnancy was making me emotional. She said to me, "then let me stand so I can be hugged."



She hugged me tightly.



I said, "Thank you, thank you, thank you. This has been a hard day, a hard few days, and it's not about money, but thank you."



She said, "I know. I love you." I pulled back slightly off-guard. "I love you," she said again. She pulled me back in, tighter this time, and said, "It's okay. I love you."



We hugged in the middle of the restaurant for minutes, me crying and her whispering, putting me back together. Then she walked over to the table and said hello to my children who were happily and quietly eating the meal she had just provided us. They chatted with her for a few minutes, she learned all of their names and they told her the random stories that toddlers tell. Then she reached down and squeezed my hand before leaving.



After she walked out Reese looked at me and said, "Mommy that lady was really cool."

Lemon Drop's Maternity Pictures

I almost didn't do photos because I thought with a third pregnancy (fourth kid) they were superfluous. But I started thinking about what it would be like to be the last kid born and not have pictures like these that the rest of your siblings had. And I've been so busy with the kids and life and work that I haven't taken a whole lot of time to just be in the moment with this pregnancy. These photos were a gift to my new precious baby and, even more, to myself. 

About a month before they were supposed to be taken, I had a hormonal meltdown and I wanted to set my closet and myself on fire. I just was so emotional and felt so grody that I said to hell with it, I'm not doing this, I'm not spending time and energy and money on silly photos. A few girlfriends pulled me up by my bootstraps and let me throw my hormonal hissy fit and got me back on track. I love you girls, thank you. The end result is a handful of images capturing, celebrating, reveling in my last pregnancy. I couldn't be more thankful.

 

Reese and Lo are so excited about number four. Reese sings itsy bitsy and the ABCs to lemon drop and when the song is over she asks me if the baby woke up and smiles widely at me and says, "did you feel her kick?" The baby usually doesn't, but I always say yes. Tonight, in an effort to thwart bedtime she told me she wanted to feel for the baby and when she put her hand on my belly lemon drop gave her a whopping thump and Reese's eyes bulged out of her head and she whispered, "I felt that." 

Bean lifts up my shirt and kisses my belly all day long. She sings and signs baby and blows my belly kisses. I don't know how, at her age, she understands that there is a baby in my belly. But she seems to know lemon drop is there, I just know she's going to be the best big sister. She's got so much love to give and she's such a gentle little girl. I can't wait for them to meet her. 

We had a pretty bad storm here a few weeks ago and Ryan was woken up by all the thunder and lightning. He ended up wide awake in my bed for several hours, and we just laid there quietly and held each other. Around 4:30 a.m. lemon drop woke up and started wiggling, which is her normal routine every night. I pulled Ryan's hand to my belly and he moved his tiny palm around my skin and played with his sister, giggling, eyes-wide, completely in awe and baffled by the movements that were happening. When she finally settled back in, he grabbed my hand and put it under his shirt and said, "momma, feel baby in my belly?" Sweetness. Pure, pure sweetness. 

Eight weeks until she's here and my little family is complete. By the time lemon drop is here, I will have been pregnant more than 800 days over the last four and a half years. That just baffles me. I thought I would never be a momma. And here I am with my arms and heart just bursting at the seams. 

Coffee Should Make Itself

Things I have been asked to fix today (all before 8 a.m.):



a knit blanket with an airplane stuck in it

a matchbox car that has been thrown one too many times

a soiled sheet

socks that make one's feet too slippery

milk

underwear that can't accommodate two legs in one hole

the deflated green arm of a balloon animal octopus

a broken friendship

an iPhone (in guided access)

books that won't stack properly

a blanket not perfectly flat

breakfast

Freedom, Joy, Growth

"The basis of your life is absolute freedom, the goal is joy, and the result of that perfect combination is motion forward, or growth. Your goal is to find objects of attention that let your cork raise." (Abraham-Hicks)

I've been trying to find my way back here, because once upon a time I really enjoyed writing and I still enjoy looking back on old posts about my kids. Lately my life has been something stuck between denial and a Smashing Pumpkins compilation (melancholy and the infinite sadness, people).



Joe once said that blogs are the only thing faker than Facebook. And I have to say, I agree with him. I've tried to walk the line of truth here as much as possible, but there are some things that are just, well, personal. So the truth, I am six months pregnant and my husband and I are separating. Not like trial separating to see how it feels. But we made a plan to divorce one another and that includes us staying married for a little while so that I can have amazing things like health insurance when I deliver our fourth child this fall.



The divorce is collaborative which is legalese for saying that we worked with a mediator to come up with a mutual agreement that is kind and required a ton of patience and amicability so that our kids are protected and know that they are loved. We will still be seen together in public and in pictures, because we are still a family. I hope that we are proof that sometimes people love each other more when the arrangement is slightly different. I know that we will be proof that our love for our children is paramount to all other things. And that is all I will disclose about my marriage, because some day my children will be literate and they don't need their personal bizness up on the internets.



Someone once made a comment here about our house, calling it the Barbie Dream House. Something that was part judgement mixed with a splash of jealousy and a hint of bitterness. Comments like that are the hard part about sharing parts of your life; sometimes people don't realize they are hurting you. Or worse, they know exactly that they are hurting you and they spit that shit out anyway.



So the Barbie Dream House is on the market, and ironically it's my Barbie Nightmare House, not because there is anything wrong with the house itself. No, the house itself is perfect. It is an amazing, gorgeous, from a magazine house that was intended to be the very start of forever. However, I cannot afford to keep it alone and until it sells I am stuck living inside of it with no option to purchase another home for me and my children. And let's be honest, at 6 months pregnant I am a ticking time bomb.



I found another house, exactly perfect, but the sellers won't take a contingency until the house has been on the market for a longer period of time, so I am waiting and praying no one else loves this house as much as I do. If you know me, you know I suck at waiting.



I wish that the whole thing was cut and dry, but a move comes with all sorts of complications due to Ryan's autism diagnosis. Without getting into lots of boring details and what-ifs, if-thens, if I leave the county I lose Ryan's bussing and if I leave the school district I lose his whole IEP. So, that's stressful not because it can't be solved, but because the solution is completely out of my hands for the time being.



Clearly, a lot of crazy things have been happening and I've been trying to sort it all out. It's left me with a lot of time to think about why. Note, not why me? But actually WHY. What am I supposed to be taking from all of this? Dear Universe, what is it that you are trying to teach me? And I think the answer is two things:



1. Let go. Of control, the need to feel like you are in control, and the idea that life is some picture in your head that you can enact. It is not perfect. It is messy. There are hiccups. (But you survive them.)



2. Some thoughts are better kept to yourself. I am a chronic over sharer and a chronic say exactly what you thinker. I need a filter and an internal edit button in order to preserve relationships with people I love and to protect myself from unnecessary harm.



So, I am learning. I am welcoming the lessons. I am growing.

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.



Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.



Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.



Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.



Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.



You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.



Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.



With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.



Be cheerful.



Strive to be happy.

(Desiderata, Max Ehrmann)

Saturday Strawberries

We took the twins to the all you can eat berry buffet on Saturday and they had a blast. Reese insisted on holding everyone's berry "buckets" and was very careful that no one be given more buckets than anyone else (aside from her, who was allowed to have all the buckets). Puff was much more selective about which berries she picked and she was very careful not to damage her fruit. For the majority of our time in the field, she pointed out berries that she wanted to pick and then issued the order "mommy help you" which meant that I was to "help" her pick said berry or, in other words, "Hey ma, pick that berry for me. Now."

Ryan traversed through the rows, repeatedly stepping on the strawberry plants even after being told not to. His plant trampling stood in stark contrast to his meticulous berry picking. Each time he leaned down to pick a new berry he would hold his bucket at such an angle that he would simultaneously drop ten berries out of his container and onto the ground.

{ carefully picking a berry }

{ then picking up everything that fell out of his container }

All of his berries had little smashed holes in them from when he shoved them down into his container to ensure they stayed put, which were only made worse by the amount of times he had to repick his berries up off the floor. He was so careful when he picked each one that it made his bucket of strawberry jam even more hilarious.

The twins had berry picked last year, but this time was much more fun because of their age and growing independence. We still had to enforce (over and over and over again) some basic berry rules, which makes me excited for when they are just a little older and can run amuck without really being so...amuck.

Joe wore Lola and I managed the dynamic duo. She was quite content to just hang out in the carrier and watch the big kids run and giggle. She wants to be a big kid so badly, but she's still so very tiny. Little bit mastered the art of sitting unassisted this week though, so she's about 40 percent more interesting to the big kids now. Mostly because she has some new (to her) toys that we broke out to celebrate. It's amazing some of the stuff my two year olds want to play with, and they have no problem stealing from a baby. 

Six dollars, ninety minutes and two quarts later and we were in the minivan heading home. I swear these farms should weigh my kids instead of the buckets when we get done in the fields.

Wonderful Weekends

Last weekend was the kind of weekend I dreamed about having when I thought about what it would be like to have a family of my own. There was nothing outrageously exciting about it. We just had time to spend together, no errands or to-do's or house projects.



On Friday we took the kids to the park and I got to practice taking pictures which was so much easier to do with their dad there to help entertain them, push them on the swings or catch them out of midair when they came off the slides.

{ daddy pushed her down the big kid slide, the horror }

Afterward we took them to a seasonal ice cream and burger shop for dinner. They mostly ran around like wild monkeys while Joe and I ate. After dinner I got the kids their first ice cream cones. Our kids are weirdos and don't like sweets at all. Reese held her ice cream cone and kept saying things like "yummy!" or "delicious!" and pretending to lick the cone. At one point she was trying to climb onto one of the picnic tables with her cone in hand and lost her balance. Her cone landed face down on the bench and she was on her back staring at the sky. Of course, I was trying to take her picture and somehow missed this gem. Probably because I was laughing so hard I couldn't see.

{ what kid makes this face after eating ice cream? }

Ryan just ran around in circles with his ice cream until the actual ball of soft serve fell off the cone. Ice cream abuse. Thus ending our Friday night.

Saturday I drove out to Massachusetts to buy an antique high chair for the baby. I had grand plans to paint it, but now that we got it home I don't know if I have the heart to do it. The chair is so darn pretty.

Lola and I met up with my best friend (her godmother) for lunch to taste test some of the treats we'll be serving at her Christening party and when I got home we took the kids to a family fun night. They saw clowns for the first time, danced to live music and jumped in bouncy houses. It was awesome.

While we were watching a magic show, three clowns were sitting in the audience and Reese was performing for them. Dancing, singing, really putting on a show. Every time the crowd clapped for the magic show her face would beam. The little toot thought everyone was clapping for her.

{ Puff performing for the clowns }

Sunday was spend just catching up on work and getting ready for the week. I woke up to feed the baby around 5 and couldn't fall back asleep, so I took advantage and made myself some coffee and sat outside. The sun was up and my yard smelled like lilacs from one of the only plants we have in our yard so far (there's that damn to-do list!) but it was so quiet and my coffee was so hot. Amazing.

I needed a weekend like this, just a break from the crazy running around. Time to take pause and soak in how blessed we are. I enjoyed my kids so much, I just kept sitting back and wondering how this was my life.