What happened to Geriatric Mama?

Well.  A lot.

This was an old screenname from an old time, and I always found it amusing and unique.  But it’s time to move on.  I can’t yet change the actual root name of my blog, but that will come someday.

Last night, I was laying in bed with my 1 year old and she slowly rolled over, put her arm around my neck as tight as she could, snuggled her head into my cheek, and fell asleep twirling my hair.  I was listening to the muffled sounds of the rest of the house -  Autumn and Justus playing in his room, Brett’s video games in his space, Daddy downstairs catching up on his NFL shows – and realized I’m really not the person I was a few years ago.

I cried as I said my nightly prayers, thanking God for this little person clutching to my neck and sharing my heartbeat, her breath warm on my face.  I thanked God for the three other little miracles going about their business in the rest of the house.  I know I’m blessed to have Gary in my life, to take care of us and love us all.  We’re healthy, we’re happy, we’re a family. 

I decided “Geriatric Mama” was no longer appropriate.  I feel younger than I did a decade ago.  Althought I’ve gotten older, I’ve grown tenfold.  I feel rejuvinated, fresh, full of life because of the life in my home.  Vintage, like a fine wine, is a much better term!

I found this heartwrenching and heartwarming at the same time.  I love those seven words, they hold more meaning than any words I’ve read in a very long time.

 

http://rixarixa.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-whole-heart-is-in-that-incubator.html

“My whole heart is in that incubator”

The Motherwear Breastfeeding blog recently featured a fantastic guest post by a woman whose son was born 3 months early and weighed less than 3 pounds. She writes about how breastfeeding was her and her son’s lifeline. Here is an excerpt from her post, My whole heart is in that incubator:

I was 37 years old. I thought I knew what love was. I thought I knew. But I have never loved anyone, anything, so fiercely, so terribly, so wonderfully, so achingly, as I did my little son, my only child, struggling in that incubator….

I loved and still love that boy with all I have. Because I couldn’t hold him much, and felt terrible guilt for not being able to ‘hold him in’ for the entire 9 months he deserved, I was determined to breastfeed. I pumped every 3 hours for weeks on end. That pump and the milk that came out of me was my lifeline. It was somehow the way I was going to make it up to him for giving him such a lousy start in this world. So when I read stuff like “The Case against Breastfeeding” I get so angry. I believe that my breastmilk, and the good care we got at BC Children’s, saved my child’s life. It saved my life. If there is anything in this crazy, crazy world that is really is a gift from God it is the babies we can create and the milk that comes from our bodies.

If anything is pure and natural, and real and true, it’s breastmilk. It made me feel like a mother when my baby was all alone inside a machine when he should have been inside me.

Anyone who dismisses breastfeeding so casually, or by their attitude or indifference creates an environment that doesn’t hold up and encourage and cheerlead a new mom into a successful breastfeeding relationship, has lost touch with something. They’ve lost touch with a sense of what it means to be a mother, what feeding a baby is all about, what it means to nurture, how significant that breastfeeding can be to both mother and child.

Posted by Rixa at Thursday, May 28, 2009  

Every morning I get to do this with my little blessing:

Autumn:  You know what, Mama?

Me:  What?

A:  I love you!

M:  I love you too!

A:  I love you infinity and beyond!

M:  Aww… you got me…

A:  I got YOU and YOU got ME!

M:  We got each other!

 

Warm and fuzzy.

My sister-in-law’s viewing and family greet was yesterday.  Her daugher compiled a beautiful slideshow with about 150 pictures for all to see.  From her own birth, to the weddings, to the babies.  Her casket was closed, presumably because of her loss of her hair that she was so proud of.  It was quiet and a little somber, except for the laughter of small children who were oblivious to the meaning of the event. 

But I believe seeing the youth helps heal the wounds of losing the older.  New life, so to speak.  My girls, I know, brought a smile to more than one face in that chapel, and were a positive distraction and another conversation starter for two strangers to meet over. 

It occurred to me, too, that in these situations it always seems like immediate family members are so composed, so recovered… smiling at friends and coworkers, laughing at jokes, all while the casket is off to the side holding the body of the person they once hugged – when I’m sure the turmoil inside makes them want to explode – to run screaming from the church, asking God why He would hurt them this way, why it was time for their loved one to leave.  I’m trying to envision how I would act if my husband passed, and frankly I think nothing short of a straight jacket would suffice… although I’m sure I would need to be strong for my children. 

Holding my big brother and seeing his children deal with the loss of this beloved member of their family had a truly profound effect on me.  As I mentioned in “She’s Gone“, Carol is the closest person to me that I’ve ever had pass.  It affected me in ways I’m not sure I can describe, but I’m sure others have experienced.

I’ve always had a “laid back” perspective of life in general – such as not having fits over a toddler drawing on a wall or jumping on the couch – so many more things are much more important – but the meaning of all that’s going on in our lives, my life, and the world in general really made me think on that long drive home from the church.  There’s so much that simply JUST DOESN’T MATTER in the grand scheme of things.  I can’t imagine my spouse passing, leaving our family without his love, without his leadership and care, without his presence.  The losses would be nearly impossible to survive, but I know we would.  I don’t know how, and I hope I don’t ever have to find out.

I have always strived to be kind, never speaking cruelly to a stranger or a friend, giving the shirt off my back, always to offer help when I can… dropping coins in the red buckets, donating clothing and goods to shelters.  But I need to to more.  I know this now.  And I need to involve the rest of my family.  We need to volunteer some more.  Spend time at my children’s schools sponsoring events.  Increasing my change in the buckets and checks in the mail.  I know I’m blessed in material things, but I’m more blessed in love and family and friends.  If something were to happen to me tomorrow, I want to make sure the slideshow of my life is filled with happiness, laughter, giving, and loving.  I want my family and friends to remember me the way we remembered Carol. 

Today, two days before the 16th Anniversary of my 25th Birthday, a new start.  A new mental attitude.  Really and truly appreciating the important things in my life – family, friends.  All of the people in my life.  I care so deeply for you all, and I’m going to work harder at showing it.  None of us know how long we have left in this mortal world, I am going to ensure the moments are spent well.

As I sit here on this Friday morning and watch you play with your sister on the floor… I realize you are growing so fast.  Too fast.  I think you’ll be walking before you get teeth!  You are eight and a half months right now, and the time has flown.  You are a miracle from God, and I thank Him every day for giving you to me. 

I wanted to make a “time capsule” for you, but I’m really crappy at projects like that.  I never even did baby books for your other brothers and sister.  But I will try to remember some things and blog them, so one day we can print them off or you can look back at them when you’re older (guess I should find out how long they’ll stay on Wordpress, eh?).

Lemme see… you came into this world on a snowy morning, the first baby of the New Year at our hospital.  You were healthy, mama felt great, it was exactly the delivery I planned for (except I wanted to stay home, but that’s a story for later!).  After a brief 5 hour stay, we went home to be greeted by your big brothers and big sister, and Gramma and Grampa, too.  You were (and are) beautiful.  You breastfed like a champ from the minute of birth.  You were a big girl, weighing in at 8 lbs. 5 oz. (same as your big brother Justus!), and haven’t stopped gaining since. 

It looks like you will be a redhead, like big brother Brett, and Mama.  You don’t have much hair right now, and at 8 months, you still don’t have enough for me to put in a bow.  Sniffle.

You sleep safe and sound between me and Daddy in our bed every single night.  You are so glorious to wake up to – little fingers in my nose, little feet pressing on my back or tummy… smiling all the time.  I don’t think you’ve ever woken up crying, and that makes me know you are truly happy.  I carry you in my wrap all the time, bonding closer and closer with you, my perfect little miracle.  You breastfeed a lot – which I love so much.  I nurse and rock you to sleep for every nap and every bedtime, and it’s so wonderful and loving.  You slide into dreamland knowing Mama is right here beside you, and won’t be going anywhere.  How secure you must feel!

I wanted to wait on “real” food with you until six months, but you had other plans… so your first solid food experience was the carrots and rice from my plate, that you grabbed at dinnertime and was faster than Mama at getting at it.  This was the week you turned 5 months old.  You chewed (well, gummed!) it like you’ve been eating for weeks.  We decided you were ready to enjoy our foods along with Mama’s milk now. 

Your first on purpose foray into solids was at our “goodbye” meal for your big brothers, who were heading off to Germany with their biological father for the summer.  You enjoyed crab legs and thai sauce, just like your big sister did!  Autumn’s first solids were also crab legs, they’re so tender and easy to gum, and to this day she’s still a great seafood eater.  I hope to instill in you the love of seafood that the rest of the family has.  Since that day, now, you have enjoyed every food the rest of us have, and so far love it all.  I’m so happy to have child number four that eats such a great variety of foods.  I’m also glad I did the same thing with you that I did with the others and bypassed jarred and pureed foods.  You will benefit so much from this choice, just as we have benefitted from the ease, healthy aspect, and recommendations to do it this way.

You started crawling around 5.5 months, much to our surprise.  Your brothers and sister were much later.   Right now, you stand without support, but haven’t braved that first step yet.  Again, a huge sign my baby, probably my last baby, is growing up too fast.

I dread the day that it will be time for you to move into your sister’s room and sleep with her on her queen size bed.  She moved around 14 months, although she kept coming back to my bed about half the nights (yay!) until you were born.  She’s tried to squeeze in a few times, but I think it’s a little cramped for her!  Ah, yes, this is probably the milestone I most dread.  There’s simply nothing better than waking up next to a baby every single morning.

Perhaps I should talk Daddy into a King Size Bed.  Then you and sissy can come back and sleep with us, for however long you want.  Hmmmm….

I watch Brett prepare to get his driver’s license, I watch Justus begin his adventure into puberty, and I watch Autumn grow so much every day, and am in awe of my beautiful, perfect family. 

I want you to know that Daddy and I love you so much, that you have brought even more joy to our lives with each and every moment we spend with you, and that we can’t wait to journey with you and the rest of our babies into whatever the rest of your lives unveil.  We hope you find the same love that we have found in each other, we hope you are happy and healthy, and we hope we get to bear witness to all of the great things that we know you will accomplish in your blessed life.

I love you, Ayla.

I read this poem in my surfing this morning and thought it was beautiful… so I took an old rose picture I had in my computer and added it… I think it’s really meaningful!

Tomorrow you will be 15.  Fifteen years ago today I had no idea what a miracle I would be holding in a short 24 hours.  And I had no idea how much my life would be enriched.

Nor would I have any idea how fast a decade and a half would fly.

I’ve watched you learn it all – and as a teenager, you know it all.    From crawling, to walking, to – in six months – DRIVING.  You are becoming a man.  My firstborn.

I love you.  I know you won’t totally grasp the depth of that love until you hold your own child.  No one can fully understand that a mother or father would throw themselves in front of a bus for their baby, until they have that baby.  And you are still my baby.  You always will be.  That embarrasses you now, but it will be a comfort some day.  I promise you that.

We’ve had a great times and our bad.  Your short stint in our Home Maximum Security Prison was hard… but we all survived.  And if you think it sucked for you to be stuck here for all those months, think of those that had to survive your moping.  Yeah, that sucked too.    But you learned, you changed, you grew. 

Yes, Dad and I still plan on practicing our duets when you bring your first girlfriend home to meet us.  It is our obligation to try to embarrass you if we can.  We are truly looking forward to it.  mwahhahahahhaaaa

And our afternoon discussions.  I wouldn’t trade that few hours for the world.  Every day you come home from school, and we talk about politics, or current events, or anything… and you can discuss them with such intelligence, common sense, and intuitiveness it gives me chills.  I am in awe of you.

I made you.  This fact still amazes me.  I made this tall, handsome, brilliant, funny, classy being that I know is going to make such an impact on this world.  Whatever you choose to do with your life, be happy.  BE HAPPY.  And always make those around you happy.

Always remember to be kind.  That’s the most important thing I want to implore you to do.  Your smile and kind words may make someone’s day.  It could change someone’s life.  And it’s so easy to do.  Don’t be rude or cruel.  Don’t be jealous, and don’t allow yourself to worry.  Those are two more wasted emotions.

Always put your family first.  We’re always going to be there – friends may not be.  There may be bumps in that road, but the bumps are what you use to hold onto while you climb.  Without those bumps, you may slip.  Your brother loves you so much, and believe me, I know it’s hard to understand that now.  When you’re 25, or 30, or 40, you’ll depend on that love to get you through rough times.  And you’ll depend on that love to be there during the good times. 

Your sisters are really going to depend on you.  They look up to you now – and I know, I know – you don’t fully “get” that either.  You are so fortunate.  We are all very blessed.

I hope you meet someone that makes you happy.  After all these years, I still want to hug Daddy so hard I end up on the other side of him, and I hope you find that too.  You deserve it.

I love you so much.  I hope you have a Happy 15th Birthday, and many, many more.

My beautiful sister-in-law Carol has cancer.  It’s rampant, and the docs have done all they can do.  She can only be made more comfortable now, with pain medications and the love and care of her family.

My brother is so amazing.  I hurt so badly for him.  Physically, really, my heart hurts.  I cringe every time the phone rings, for fear it’s the “call”.  He’s such a good man, she’s such a good woman.  Four children, grandchildren, very active members of the church, very loving people.

Why does this happen to the nicest people?  I think Tony Snow said it well, in his testimony.
http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2007/july/25.30.html

Please take a moment to read his beautiful words. 

When you sit with your family tonight and groan about, well, anything… think about those that sit with their family and wonder when God will take them.  Will it be today?  Tomorrow?  Next week?

Sort of makes your “I gotta get the lawn mowed” a little insignificant, doesn’t it?

Sigh.

 

My two biggest babies leave me in less than 24 hours to travel Europe for two months.

On one hand I’m thrilled - what an opportunity for them!  On the other, I’m devastated.  I’m going to miss the great political discussions with Brett, and the endless help and humor that Justus offers.

Although he’s a teenager, and I talk smack about him, Brett has a heart of gold.  He’s so smart, it completely stuns me sometimes.  He’s got the typical teenage attitude, but I see through it.  He does his chores without grumbling, even picking up dog poop, and is quick to make me laugh.  He can ace a test at school without even studying, and has great friends that I adore – I feel like I’m a mom to a lot of them.

Justus has the biggest heart of any kid I’ve ever met.  He has his problems too – a little hyper, sometimes drives me crazy (LOL), but man, ask him to jump and he really does want to know how high.  I’ve never seen a little person express so much love to his sisters as Justus can.  He’s even risked an injury to himself to ensure Ayla is safe (see blog about him falling down the stairs).  He hears Ayla cry, he comes running to see if he can help.  I watch him with Autumn when he doesn’t realize anyone’s there – and he’s an angel.  And imagination!  Wow!  That boy can write a complete story that would rival what Stephen King started out writing when he was a boy.  I really am encouraging this trait – he’s so talented it scares me.

My God I love these boys.  And my God am I going to miss them.  My heart truly aches thinking about them leaving me for eight weeks, and my eyes wet just typing it.

Today we’re taking them out to their favorite restaurant for an early dinner – the Japanese Steak House – then back home to watch a couple of movies, eat some crap, and make sure they’re ready to go.  Justus is very upset at missing some milestones of Ayla’s – scooting, probably crawling, eating some good foods, etc… so today he’ll have the honor of sharing his crab or shrimp with her so he’s part of her “first solids (almost)” milestone.  My heart grows to know that he thinks about these things!

Brett has promised to take lots of pictures… I hope he remembers!

Sniffle.

Is THIS heaven?

 

Have I found it? 

Sunday morning… a beautiful little girl in her silver satin pajamas climbs into bed between Daddy and Mama.  As we all sleep peacefully for a short time more, the sun rises – and we begin to hear those adorable little giggles.

As our noses are pinched, and our lips are kissed, and our hands are rubbed, our beautiful little angel lets us know it’s time to get up.  I glance over at Gary when he doesn’t think I’m looking and see such unwavering love in his eyes as he hugs and laughs with our little girl, this little miracle we created with our endless love… and he must feel my eyes on him as he glances at me, smiles, kisses my hand, and says “I love you so much”.

Now I realize, in a few short weeks, another perfect little angel will be snuggled between us all night.  Autumn will find room when she wants to come in too – I will make sure of that.  I often wonder how I could possibly fit any more love in my heart – how it could physically not burst from the pressure – and then I realize that without my wonderful soulmate and all of my little miracles, I wouldn’t have any idea what heaven on Earth is really like.

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