Loving Hannah

Last night, I got an email from a good friend we knew in Boston (hi, Kathy F!). This dear, sweet woman and her husband were huge fans of our kids. So much so, that her husband (on his way to work) was one of the first people to come see me in the hospital after I delivered Hannah. I've never forgotten their many kindnesses, and getting back in touch with her took me back about seven years in time.

We moved to Boston in September of 2000. It was the peak of everything - economy, dot-coms, housing, jobs, technology - the world seemed so boundless then, didn't it? So full of promise?

Then about a year into our time there, on a crisp September morning, the world forever changed. I have written in the past about my experiences on that awful morning, which you can read again here.

Let's just say that September of 2001 rocked our family personally, as well. I had found out a few weeks prior to 9-11 that I was expecting another baby. I wish I could say that every part of me rejoiced at the opportunity to be a mother again, but I didn't. This was a major surprise. A surprise that neither one of us could find the energy to get excited about.

At the time, we were overwhelmed with the daily exhaustion that came with raising two wild and energetic boys. McKay was three, and Chase was not yet two. We felt insane with just the two kids we had. We were living in an apartment, and in light of the newly-shaken economy, had just downgraded to an even smaller apartment until we could be sure our job was viable long-term. And the thought of even one day with the boys and a newborn in a two-bedroom apartment did little to cheer me up. We just weren't ready for a third. The timing seemed all wrong.

We told no one about this pregnancy, and that included our extended family, parents, and friends. I felt that until I could be happy when I shared the news, it was better to keep it to myself. So we did what every American did in those months following 9-11. We watched the news for hours on end. We flew our flag. We drove to and from work. And we tried to remember to count our blessings.

Several months went by, and the news was no longer concealable, as my growing belly announced our situation for us. Thanksgiving came, and we drove down to spend it with Gabi and her family, figuring it was time to announce this baby to those we loved. Gabi's husband, Brad, was the first to greet us that weekend and said nothing - thinking I had simply gained some weight (thanks, Brad). Gabi could tell right away, and gave shrieks of excitement and joy. I tried hard to catch some of her enthusiasm, while feeling very guilty for not being more happy. A surprise visit from Opa that weekend, and the cat was definitely let out of the bag.

A few weeks after we got home, I had my first ultrasound. I remember laying on the paper-covered table, in the darkened room, waiting for it to begin. Laying there, staring up at the white ceiling tiles, I was not sure what to hope for. Another boy? Could we handle one more? And a girl? I don't know how to take care of a girl (forget the fact that I am one). As all these thoughts ran through my head, the cool shock of the jelly on my largely protruding stomach brought me back to the present.

And as the technician began to probe and measure, this little, flickering heartbeat caught my eye. I could make out tiny, perfect toes.

And fingers.

Arms and legs, and hands and feet, moving to a rhythm I already knew well.

And then something happened. A rush of emotion came over me and tears filled my eyes as I saw the first glimpses of this baby. Not just an inconvenient thing that seemed to have come so unexpectedly without our consent, but my baby. A sweet, little person that we would get to know soon.

"It's a girl," the technician told me with a smile.

A girl. We were having a girl. In an instant, I felt as though everything came into focus. As I lay there on the table, I began to feel an overwhelming sense of happiness. I knew then that it would be okay. It was going to be more than okay.

It was going to be fantastic.

And you know something? It has been. Every single day spent with this sweet angel in our family has been filled with bliss.

Silly, pink, fluffy, girly bliss.

And I wouldn't trade it for all the riches in the world.

I love you, baby.

God sure knows what he's doing with those big surprises.

Lost in translation

Yesterday, the Princess brought home the usual backpack full of wrinkled papers and glue-sticked art projects for me to sift through and admire.

I paused when I got to this one, and I found myself unable to translate it without her help. Apparently, they were smelling things, and then writing down what they had smelled. As is the nature of the kindergarten classroom, each child had to sound-spell the words without any help from the teacher. Hannah took it upon herself to add her own rating system, giving each item a smiley or frowny face based on whether or not she liked the smell.

So here's the game. If you can decipher her excellent writing and figure out all seven things correctly, I will send you a prize. I'm not sure what that prize will be, but it will most likely involve food of some sort. Chocolate food, my favorite kind.

Contest ends at noon tomorrow.

Good luck. You're gonna need it.

Because she's only thinking of me

[ sweets that I made for my sweet]

This morning, when my three littlest valentines came down for breakfast, they found a small box of chocolates by each of their plates.

They squealed with delight and proceeded to tear open the heart-shaped boxes. They smelled and fondled, trying to determine what flavor each piece was. Hannah looked at me, then looked back down at her full box. She gingerly slid a small piece of chocolate across the bar to me.

"Wow, thanks, Hannah. That is so nice of you to share."

Chase immediately opened his box and did the same thing.

"Thanks, Chase."

McKay looks up apprehensively. I smiled and said, "It's okay, you don't have to give me one. I got these for YOU."

"Really? You sure, Mom?" I promised him that I was sure, and the relief washed over his face.

Hannah then reaches over and takes back her chocolate. "Actually, Mom, I think I'm going to let you be really healthy. You shouldn't eat this candy. I'll just take it back."

Thanks, baby. Appreciate you looking out for me.

Sometimes, the morning gods smile upon me

The alarm clock goes off, rousing me from a disturbingly-realistic dream in which I own two pet tigers that I am terrified will eat me (thank you, Celia and Paige. I blame you for all the tiger talk). I look around and remember that I don't really have any tigers. I lay my head back on the pillow and sigh in relief.

I stumble for my glasses and peek to see if the sun is out. It is starting to rise over the rooftops and slant across the yard in sharp angles. The frost on the grass glitters like diamonds. It looks beautiful. It looks cold.

I struggle to remember what day the Husband gets back this week. I don't think it's today.

I put my hair in a ponytail and stand on the scale. I curse. I sigh.

I move on.

I stretch and try to rub the sleep out of my eyes. I walk down the dark and silent hall to start rousing the troops. Two of the three are tired and cranky, and do not want to get out of bed. Chase wants desperately to be sick today. I refuse to allow this. The princess has 80s rock star hair. I remind her that she needs a bath before school, and silently pray there is enough time for it.

I go downstairs, heat up the leftover pancakes and smile, knowing how happy it will make Chase. Boy, that kid loves the pancakes. Within minutes, they are all seated in front of steaming pancakes that are dripping with maple syrup. Poor things, they all look half asleep.

A quick prayer is said. Pancakes are eaten. Spirits are lifted. Someone even tells a joke or two. I try to permanently stamp this moment in my memory.

Showers get taken. Lunches are made. Backpacks are packed. Coats and layers get put on. I hug and kiss each one, and promise to wave when the bus goes by. I smile inside, knowing they won't want want me to wave in a year or two. I am glad for it today.

Sixty-two minutes after my alarm clock went off, they walk out the door. I thank god for this alone time. I put on some good music. I workout hard. I sweat. I drink a lot of water. I sweat some more.

I sit down and read this blog and this blog, both of which inspire me to count my blessings.

And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.