The Beautiful, Little House

It has been so long. There has been so much life that has been happening around here that if we haven’t been on the go, it would first off- be a miracle, and second probably only mean that we have fallen asleep.  

Once spring rolled in it has been nonstop, starting with an amazing trip to Disney World with my cousin and his family.  It was a rare, unicorn-like Disney trip where, honest-to-God, every single kid was happy each day, an the adults didn’t need a massive drink by ten in the morning. It was really wonderful; it has also been all systems go from the moment we returned. Miss Kennedy’s life has all but taken over, with the constant shuffle to and from the various fields she is playing on, pushing gymnastics to the back burner for the spring; but she is happy and immersed in the little life she is making for herself.  My baby no long resembles anything close to a baby, with the exception of his delicious chubby cheeks that are accentuated by his nearly ever-present smile.  He is all too happy to tag along on a jam-packed days and would literally follow is big sister to the end of the earth.  

And then the real reason it’s been so long:  We are moving.  We are doing what I swore up and down we’d never do; we are leaving our home and moving to a new one.  It’s exciting, it really, truly is.  We are moving to the kind of house I never imagined I’d live in at (almost) thirty-four. It’s gorgeous and will be an amazing house for my babies to grow up in and for Sean and I to grow old in.  So, yes, I am so excited.  But, as with everything else in my life the last four and a half years, my excitement and joy is very tightly intertwined with so many other feelings.  

Seven and a half years ago as we sat in a room, signed our names what seemed to be a billion times, and ended with keys in our hands, I really did think they were the keys to our forever home. 

 I was pregnant with Kennedy and couldn’t wrap my head around all that came with that, let alone think there would be more kids.  Our beautiful little house was perfect for a little family of three. 

We spread out, laughing as our girl’s stuff started to take over.  It was the three of us-we had plenty of room-even a guest room!  We loved it; we’d cram people in the backyard for parties and inside when we were feeling bold, shifting all of furniture around to make it work.  And then we decided to expand our family.  We dragged our feet getting the house in order to shift Kennedy over to he extra bedroom and change her, pretty, tiny nursery into a room fit for a little boy.  But we never got a round to it.  Our sweet Jack came too early, and he left too soon and so the door was shut and left untouched for two more years.

In a desperate attempt to change a home that had seemed to me then to be so damaged by the hurt and loss I covered up all of the beautiful warm, dark paint that had drawn us in in the first place.  I painted all of the walls a light gray, I covered the red bricks of the fireplace white; literally trying to cover the darkness that had settled within the walls of the home I had loved for almost three years. And it worked, my little house adapted and felt like home again.  It graciously accepted the roots of the little tree we planted in our boy’s name, nourishing it and allowing it to take hold and grow.  I swore we would never leave it.  

And then a new light came to our little home.  A little boy we needed and wanted so badly came home to our house and the rooms were now as full as our hearts.  And it was perfect.  

But the difference between beautiful little houses and beautiful little children is the beautiful little children grow.  They grow and they grow and they grow.  They run through the halls of a home no matter how small they are.  They fill the rooms with their things, no matter how small the rooms are or how small their things seem.  

And so Sean and I talked about it.  We talked, we argued, we agreed and disagreed.  We looked into making our little house bigger; trying to change it to be what we needed it to be.  It just wouldn’t work.  It just wouldn’t make sense to try and make our beautiful little home anything more than what it was always meant to be for us, even if I would never allow myself to call it such: a starter home.  A home to start our life in.  And we did just that.  

There has been so much life in this house.  There has been so much love, and so much loss that happened within the walls of this home.  

This is the home that my sweet baby was supposed to come home with us to; this is the only house he was ever supposed to be in and my broken heart can’t help but ache knowing we are moving to a place he was never meant to go to.  This home will be the home Sean’s dad visited us, staying in our little makeshift bedroom under the basement stairs, buying Sean the silly little push mower it took hours to mow the lawn with because that was good enough to get the job done; it hearts my heart to leave here.  

And then there is the tree. How am I supposed to leave the tree? I have been asked so many times, by so many people that love us and know how much we love the tree, “You can’t leave the tree!”  As with most things in my life, I have had to stop and have conversations with myself about guilt and not allowing it to consume me.  I will miss my gorgeous little tree; the beautiful little tree that grows in place of and in honor of my son.  The tree that seems to, appropriately, bloom a little later than the others like it around the neighborhood.  The tree that love grew.  But I can not allow myself to forget that the tree is not my son.  Jack is gone, even if I dug the tree up, and it by chance survived the transplanting and took root in a new spot, he is not here. But he lives in my heart, he goes where I go.  And so we will leave the tree here to continue to bloom and grow.

We will leave the little tree with the beautiful house that grew a beautiful family.  We will leave the beautiful little house to a new little family to grow into and likely grow out of down the road as well.  And if that is meant to be the legacy of this little home, to grow families and send them out into the world bigger and stronger and full of love, than I am so honored to have been a part of its story. 

Until next time, which is hopefully sooner rather than later and from within the walls of the new home that the Doyles will fill with memories and love...

Four

My sweet baby boy,

You would have been four today.  Now how can that be?  How can it have been that long?

I can still remember every single second of this day four years ago and the days before and after, the weight of you in my arms, every curve of your face, and the way your tiny hand felt in mine like it was just moments ago; my heart still aches like it was. 

The last few days have been hard.  I can’t help but run through everything over and over again.  I sometimes wish I could forget some of it; that it would dull around the edges even just a little bit.  Then there are other times I cling to those memories, praying that I remember every last detail; it’s all I have of you.  Or is it?

I have your dad, a man that loves in a way that makes it impossible not to believe in true love.  A man that loves his children so deeply that it stretches to the heavens.  You did that.

Then there is your sister.  She is empathetic, brave, and caring.  Kennedy is such a good big sister; she’d do anything to show how much she loves her brothers.  That’s you too.

And your baby brother; Carter has brought so much peace to our hearts- peace that, four years ago, I never thought we’d find again.  It’s in his quiet way with the larger than life personality that peeks through, or the way he hugs me tight before bed, that makes me believe you are in there too. 

I don’t know if you have to make wishes in heaven, but just in case you don’t, I have a few birthday wishes for you.   I wish for you to feel me with you, sweet boy, the part of me that left with you that day.   I wish for you to hear me sing each night to your brother and sister, because I am singing for you too.  I wish for you to feel the love that is being spread in your name through Jack’s Herd and feel proud of how profoundly your short, beautiful life has impacted so many others.  

Oh Jack, my heart hurts today and the tears won’t stop falling.  Your sister, upset and frustrated last night, told me we can’t celebrate your birthday without you, that it’s not right. She didn’t say it to upset me and I tried not to let on how bad it hurt but she wasn’t wrong.  This isn’t right; it wasn’t supposed to be this way.  I should be anxiously preparing a birthday party that I went overboard with, driving Daddy nuts with the details he thinks are silly, not worrying about picking the right flowers to leave by your spot today. But here we are.  

So today I will cry.  Today I will mourn all that was lost, and trust me, with each passing day with your brother and sister, we know just how much we lost of you four years ago. Today is the day for tears and tomorrow we will celebrate you.  

Kennedy made you cupcakes and blew out your candle and Carter ate it for you.  I heard her whisper in the kitchen, "I wished that we could come up to heaven and say hi to you on your birthday and then come back home."  I take more comfort than I expected in knowing you will celebrate with Papa this year.  Not too much ice cream; you Doyle boys tend to overdo it!  

Jack Holden, there is not a day that has passed where my heart does not call out for you.  I love you with every ounce of my heart.  Happy 4th Birthday, baby.

You are so loved and you are so missed.

All of my love,

Mommy

Happy Birthday, Baby Boy

To my sweet baby- the littlest Doyle boy,

I really can’t begin to wrap my head around how we got here.  How is it that I just put you to sleep on the last night before your first birthday?  How did it all go so fast?  

It really seems to my heart that you were just getting here; that I was sitting around, quite literally holding my breath waiting to see you; to hear your cries and see you breathing. I can remember all of those months leading up to that moment-and with each passing one I was desperately trying not to get too attached to you, afraid our eyes would never meet.  And yet the moment I heard your first loud cry I knew what I’d known all along, I was already wrapped around your chubby little fingers and there was no turning back.  

From those first minutes you were this big, sweet boy.  Your chubby cheeks made it impossible not to fall in love with you and those big round eyes made it impossible to look away.  Even now, those eyes seem to be taking every single thing in, like you know there is too many amazing things around you to miss.

With you, you brought so much of what had been missing from our home for far too long.  You have filled our lives with laughter- and its obvious you love to make your adoring fans laugh, smiles- real honest-to-God smiles, the kind that reach your eyes and bring color to your cheeks, the kind I have been so desperate to see in photos again.  You gave your sister a partner in crime; someone to love, and snuggle, and chase.  You gave your dad a little buddy to make him feel funny and growl with. 

You brought me back to life, my sweet boy.  I know that is a lot of responsibility to put on such tiny shoulders but it is the truth. I am really living again.  When your brother left us I felt so robbed, so cheated, and so angry.  It’s like I was sent a boy that could melt some of that ache away from my heart and soften some of those hard edges again.  You brought the light back into my world. 

Our vacation this last week with you was a bit hectic, chasing you around and holding our breaths as you narrowly missed coffee table edges, waking up before sunrise because you like your crib at home better, but you made every moment of it sweeter too. You are so very loved; it makes me feel like my heart could burst at its seams.

I will celebrate your year here with us the only way I know how: big, full of faces that love you, and all the mama tears I have in my tank.  I will cry: because I am so sad I can not keep you small, because I am relieved to have made it to a year with a healthy, happy boy that is growing (and walking, and cutting three teeth in a ten-day-span!!), and because I didn’t think I would ever really celebrate a first birthday again.    

You have a fever tonight. I will wake up and check on you no less that six times.  I will tell myself it will be to make sure you are all right, that your fever doesn’t come back.  But my heart knows the truth-I want to take in every moment of you I can before you turn One.  Because I know how fast this will go; I know that in the blink of an eye, you too will be six.  But to me, you will forever be my little chooch, my sweet baby boy. 

I love you, Carter Fitzgerald, more than I will probably ever be able to put into words.

Happy Birthday.  

Love, 

Mama