Growing Pains

I can remember crying as a little kid that my legs hurt and my parents simply saying, “Those are just growing pains-they’ll go away soon.  They just mean your growing up.”  I’m learning that there are growing pains in raising children too-for them, for us.  Maybe pains is sort of an understatement too, maybe agony is more accurate at certain points.   Over the past five years there have been points where Kennedy and I have to find our way out of the thick of things, and I’m reminded of that every now and then with the new guy.  But it’s the little lady that brings the heat these days...in a big way.

Kennedy and I are on the struggle bus...and we seem to be stuck in bad traffic, unable to move forward much.  Actually, to be real honest, it’s more like grid lock...on a hot summer day.  It’s rough, man.  I find myself looking at her and praying that the little girl that she was the first four solid years of life is still in there somewhere and that she just may be taking a backseat to the girl that seems to be trying to find herself in a take-no-prisoners sort of way.

I swallowed a hearty dose of mama guilt the other night when I was talking with a friend of mine and, after she asked me how things were going with two kids in the house, and I said, “Well it’s really just tough in the mornings and the late afternoon and evenings,” that I realized what I was really saying.  I felt awful that was describing all of the times that Kennedy is in the house.  But it’s true.  Getting her ready for school is a battle-getting her up, picking out her clothes, asking her to eat breakfast, choosing a lunch that she will actually eat, when to go out to the bus-all of it turns into a battle.  Why, you may ask, am I engaging in an argument with a five year old?  Because I am desperately trying to make sure I am doing a good job raising her to be kind, and respectful.  I don’t ever want to snuff out the fire that burns within this girl, but I know that we have to be careful that it does not become an inferno that could cause destruction in this world.

Another awful moment came when I realized somewhere along the way I’ve become a “No” mom. Not in a ‘no, don’t do that you can get hurt’ kind of way but a ‘no, not now’ or ‘no, because I said so’ in a response to a little kid that may really not understand why.  I’ve never wanted to be that person-and not because I think children shouldn’t hear no-but because sometimes it’s in the “yes” that the magic happens; and so with all of the no that passes through my lips at this beautiful girl- for no other reason than that I’m tired or cranky or just plain lazy- I’m missing the magic.  I realized it was happening this past weekend at a birthday party we went to for a friends little girl.  For starters, I left Kennedy home with Sean because I knew that would be easier than nagging her to calm down and behave around all of the babies and little kids. Then as I was changing Carter’s diaper, another friend’s toddler was picking stuffed toys off a shelf and tossing them into the crib. My friend, she laughed along with her and asked her questions about the animals and just reminded her she’d have to put them all back shortly; and my heart ached.  Because I knew, without a doubt in my mind, that I would be telling Kennedy no, and to stop it.  And why? No one was getting hurt; nothing was getting broken.  I found myself asking ‘what am I doing?’

So the next morning I decided I would take her out for a girls day, leave the baby home with Sean, and just enjoy my girl.  We decided to go and see ‘Wonder’, her first grownup girl movie.  She wanted to bring my mom too, so we picked her up and off we went.  As soon as we entered the mall where the theatre is she spotted a bounce house area they’ve newly added and I braced myself for the begging and whining.  It didn’t come but she made sure to point it out.  We found our seats and got our snacks, and almost began the movie without incident-until she got annoyed at me and pulled at my arm and knocked the eight-dollar bag of popcorn off my lap and spilled half of it on the floor.  I just about lost my mind, and then, because even at thirty-two I can act like a petulant child, I thanked her for ruining a nice time with her bad attitude (I wonder where she’s learned it).  She pouted for a few minutes and then apologized to me. 

The movie was beautiful, though it tore me apart in a hundred different ways- making me think of Jack and what our life may have been like with him, how it would have effected Kennedy, and more than that how losing him did effect her.  And I cried.  I cried as I thought of all of the ways this little girl’s life has been changed for the last three years.  First we tell her she is going to have a baby brother, then tell her he is going to be special and things will look a little different for him, then we leave for the hospital and come back with no baby.  Not only do we not bring her brother home but I came home a different version of her mama-one that cried a lot and smiled a lot less and that she tried so hard to make happy.  One that many days could do little more than turn the television on and feed her.  She waited for me-to heal, get my act together again; she waited patiently.  And then after all that we go and tell her she’s going to have a brother again.  And so she apprehensively gets excited and we turn her little world upside down again, this time bringing home a baby that takes up a lot of our time and therefore a lot of her time with us.  And still the fire burns.  All of that and her spirit has not been broken-not by life- and so I’ll be damned if it’s broken by me. 

You see, as I watched my little girl bounce around, and slide, and laugh at the bounce park after the movie, my heart broke a little.  How could I be so impatient with her as she is growing, testing, and feeling things out?  She has taken me at my absolute worst and loved me fiercely through it.  If she, at her young age, was able to do that, then I will do the same for her.  I will do my best to say yes a little more, take in some of the magic, let the fire burn brightly and wait out the growing pains. 

This year I don’t have to try to hard to find things to be thankful for.  I am thankful for my family, my friends, my husband, and my beautiful children here with us and the little one that watches over us from above; I am thankful for this beautiful life that has continued to pull me forward even when I fight against it.  I am thankful for all of you.  Thank you for following along with me on this journey of grief, and healing, ups and downs, failures and wins. 

Happy Thanksgiving.

The Same Page

Most men and women tend to show emotion differently; drastically differently in some cases.  We learned this first hand when we lost Jack.  While we were both utterly heartbroken and absolutely devastated, it just looked different for Sean and I.  In some ways that was one of the hardest parts; this boy that I had felt so connected to, for twelve years at that point, I suddenly felt like there was a huge chasm between us.  Though, God love the man, he did agree before we even left the hospital, to go to therapy with me.  I knew we had to figure out a way to work through everything-the lows and darkness that would be coming and find a way to talk about it all, not just tuck it away into a dark corner of our lives-if we were ever going to make it.  And we did; week after week, we talked and vented and struggled through learning to see each other’s point of view and adjust to one another’s coping mechanisms.  One day, even though it had felt like it would never come, we found ourselves at a place that we were ready to try to venture down the baby road again.  And even then, through all nine months and even the days after Carter came, we talked-pulse checking-to make sure we were doing all right with everything.

You see, long before I was pregnant and during and even up until the moments before I delivered this boy, I was terrified.  Scared of what it could look like for me, for us.  We had started to heal, and really live again; what if this little baby boy brought all of the pain and hurt back to the surface?  What if these wounds we’d worked so hard to begin to heal opened back up again?  Could I come through it again, what state would I be left in at the end, and could Sean tolerate me through it again?  These are the things we discussed over and over.  And I have to say, for a man that generally does not emote, Sean was honest and open and had the hard conversations with me over and over again, though it was clear that we were still looking at things from a very different vantage point.    

The moment I heard his loud cries, held that sweet boy in my arms, saw his sister fall in love him, and brought him home-I felt it deep in my bones: I was going to be alright.

I am rapidly approaching the end of my maternity leave and it quite literally hurts my heart to think of leaving this baby.  I don’t want to miss a single second of him.   I could never leave his side and be completely fine with that but then I have all of these scenarios run through my mind, many of which involve him yelling at me to stop smothering him or him living in our basement and so I know what I have to do.   I’ll go back this week on Friday, just for a day to get my feet wet and then we get one more glorious week off together before I return for good.  So, it’s been an incredibly busy two months with lots of firsts.  First Halloween for the little man, Kennedy's first big girl playdate; there have been sleepless nights but more surprisingly restful ones, there have been lots of tears, some of them Carter’s, some of them mine, and many of them Kennedy’s (growing pains for a little girl, no longer the center of attention). 

Photo credit: Amber Hooper Photography

Sean and I had our first baby-free night in a long while.  My parents came over and we headed out to dinner at my favorite spot.  We ate our first uninterrupted, hot meal accompanied by a nice bottle of wine and talked, and laughed.  On the drive home, maybe in part because of the wine and not having drank for almost an entire year, I suddenly felt a little overwhelmed.  So I asked this sweet boy I have loved for the last fourteen years of my life, “How do you think I’m doing?”  And I braced myself; afraid of the honest answer I knew he’d give me.  And he said, “You’re doing great, love, how do YOU think you’re doing?”  I was relieved to hear him say that, more relieved than I can put into words.  I told him I though it was going good, I felt good but then I said, “It all feels so complicated though, like a look at him and I can’t understand how all at once he breaks my heart and...,” and then I could speak anymore, the lump I my throat had overtaken my voice.  It didn’t matter though; he didn’t miss a beat, “heals your soul, right?” And the tears flowed.  Because he was right.  Because he knew the feeling.  Because we were finally on the same page about it all. 

The casualty of a great bottle of wine...

The holidays are rapidly approaching; Thanksgiving up first and there is so much for me to be thankful for.  I’ll save it for next time but for now, wish me luck as I return to the workforce.