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.

Finding the Smile

Things always seem to look a lot different the next time around.  It doesn’t really matter what exactly it is you’re comparing-a movie you watch more than once, a vacation you take, or your experience doing something.  Parenting is no exception.  You think you know what to expect because you’ve been there, done that.  Yeah, no, it doesn’t really work like that.

I feel like a new mom in so many ways. Five years is a long time to be “out of practice” when it comes to a newborn.  I got used to leaving the house sans diaper bag, running out the door quickly and efficiently.  I forgot how sweaty a mama can get trying to gather up all of the things and make it to the car-only to forget about four different things and make four separate trips back inside. I’m finding my rhythm but, man, I’d be lying if I didn’t say some days are exhausting.  And being responsible for more than one tiny, unpredictable human at once is no joke.  We’re making it work though-everyone is starting to find their groove which, in our busy, life is important.

The last few weeks have been full ones.  Doctor appointments for a baby that is growing like a weed, gymnastics, visits from the tooth fairy for not one but TWO lost teeth, ran races (Sean and Kennedy-not me!) and watched two badass mamas run a half marathon in the pouring rain!  On top of that Sean's mom had unexpected open-heart surgery (six bypasses!) but luckily she took it like a champ and did incredibly well.

And then there was the planning and preparing for the little man’s baptism.  We’d decided to baptize him early from the beginning.  Not because I believe in the idea of purgatory but because I figure if this baby boy could be watched over and protected by even just a smidgen more than he already is, we wanted it.  So we’d started planning this while I was still pregnant.  I wanted it to be perfect for so many reasons, the main one being that I needed this to be a happy day.  And it was: the party was at my favorite restaurant with our favorite people, delicious food, and an amazing cake (complete with his name misspelled that I-unknowingly- approved!).

But not matter how many people made the trip to town and how great the party the day before was, the next morning-even with the sun shining bright-there was a cloud hanging over my head.  The baptism day fell on the 18th anniversary of my Papa passing away and also Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day.  As if that wasn’t enough, I couldn't help but think that the last baptism I was present for was Jack’s and it took place in a cold operating room, with me on my back desperately trying not to lose sight of my baby boy that would be leaving me at any moment.  And so I cried; hard.  And I let myself sob while Sean just hugged me.  And then I put my makeup on, dressed the two beautiful children I have with me here on earth and we made our way to church to celebrate this enormous light we now have in our lives.

It was a perfectly imperfect ceremony, complete with a crying baby that had an explosive poop midway through mass, a sweaty mama that was caught giving dagger eyes on camera taken by a five year old (seeing yourself through the eyes of a child is a humbling experience folks!) but it was everything I needed.  To be surrounded by our family and friends, people that were so happy and relieved that we found ourselves here again, was everything.  This boy is so very loved.

After everyone said their goodbyes we tried to spread some kindness in memory of Jack Holden for Jack's Herd's second annual Random Acts of Kindness Day.  We finished out the day at a candle light ceremony held by the Ohana Foundation and though I felt a sadness in my heart, I felt close to all three of my children.

Seven weeks have gone by and there is so much good in my life.  I am so lucky to have an amazing tribe that checks in on us regularly to see how we are doing.  My baby sleeps pretty damn good (making me feel bad for the us five years ago that were up every hour and didn’t know any better to be upset about that) and he’s a pretty happy (save for thirty hellish minutes every night!), chubby little guy.  His sister loves him in a fierce way that makes me fall in love with her even more in spite of her newly super-charged kindergarten ‘tude.  But even with all that good stuff going on there is still many times where I find myself staring down at this beautiful boy, almost unable to breathe and wondering how on earth we ever survived having to give his big brother back.  How am I still here after that?  How did I hold that baby in my arms and then give him back to a nurse, never to see him again?  Even after having done it, it seems unimaginable to me, especially when I hold this boy close to my heart and feel his little chest rise and fall.  And yet, here we are- still here and moving forward.  Even broken hearts can heal.

And this picture here?  The smile on that girl’s face is the kind of genuine smile that hasn’t shown up in a very long time, and trust me I've been looking for it.   Looking at it breaks my heart a little because I didn’t think I’d ever see her again but when I saw it the relief washed over me; it’s proof that no matter how terrible a turn life can take, and how bumpy and winding the road is, you will find joy again when you keep moving down it; you'll find the smile.