Sheila

Sometimes I wonder if I'm the only one who is just feeling my way through this Motherhood thing.  If I'm the only one that is breathing in and out silent prayers all day long hoping and praying that I'm not messing up too much or that long term effects will not be felt from my screw ups.  Perhaps my early decision to avoid parenting books is doing more harm than good.  I wonder if my kids see through my facade of competency and realize that, most of the time, I'm quite clueless. 

Am I the only one? 

I smile as I write this because, for the most part, I've accepted it as a part of life.  I am just feeling my way through this and to be honest--I'm okay with that.  Truth is, I have this naive belief that, in the long run, the way I love my kids will somehow make up for my incompetency.  There are days when I stumble through the tough questions (where do babies come from?) and other days when my patience is about as long as my pinky nail.  Some days when I lay my head down at night I count the number of times I blew off appeals to sit and read or paid more attention to the laundry and dishes than the sweet faces of my little ones.  There is no way around it. . . some days are far from perfect. 

There are other days, though, when I see magic happen before my eyes.  Days when I know a decision, or a period of time, or an idea hit that sweet spot of motherhood that you only know once you've reached it. 

Sheila was one of those sweet spots.  Meet Sheila. . .

Sheila (the baby) was a gift from Meadow to Chanelle upon our arrival home from the hospital.  At first Chanelle was not real thrilled with Sheila.  For several days I encouraged her to name her baby, but she insisted that she didn't want to. My hope was that that baby doll might ease the transition of Meadow and the reality of less focused time she and I would have together.  Unfortunately, she was less than enthusiastic and I was left feeling defeated.  Defeated, that is, until this past Sunday. 

Sunday afternoon I was organizing some things in Meadow's room and decided to put a rocking chair and crib in the room for Chanelle's baby.  I was uncertain about how she might react to this, but figured it was worth a try. 

SCORE FOR MOMMY.

As soon as Chanelle walked into the room her eyes lit up at the sight of her very own rocking chair, crib, blankets and burp rags for her baby.  She grabbed her "Mama"-saying doll and took a seat. 

Together, Chanelle and I sat in our babies room and rocked them together.  As we sat, I talked to her about how to swaddle a baby and finally Chanelle felt ready to name her baby. . . Sheila.  All day long she talked about how we can put the babies to bed together, rock them together, and be sure they they are ready for bed at the same time. 

Our babies even have matching outfits.

Her excitement even wooed Charlie for a bit. . .

It's such a small thing, I know, but these are the small victories that I claim as BIG victories.  The Jackpots of Motherhood that push away the doubts and insecurities that whisper your messing up and paint a clear picture that overall, I'm doing all right.  It is these moments, these tiny little victories, that provide fuel for tomorrow and help me to believe that while I may not see the entire path laid out ahead of me, somehow I believe that I'll be okay for the next step. 

Welcome to the family, Sheila!

A Different Kind Of Thanksgiving

"I miss you guys." 
"I know, I miss you all, too."
"You better not be starting a new trend with this."
"Don't worry, that's not the plan."

This was part of a conversation my sister and I had on Thanksgiving day.  I was at home and she was at my Dad's house two hours away.  For the first time in my 33 years I was away from my family on Thanksgiving.  We made the decision to stay home this year rather than travel with a baby just 1 week old.   Last year Thanksgiving was all about rallying through another "first" and this year was a first of another kind. Our first Thanksgiving with just us. . . just the five of us.

I love Thanksgiving.  In fact, it is probably my favorite holiday.  I enjoy that there is no pressure to find the "perfect" gift, or the commercialization of a time that should never, ever be commercialized.  I enjoy the slowness of the day.  I love just being together.  I relish in the time that is simply about being thankful. 

My heart is so very thankful. 

I was prepared to feel a small ache in my heart at not being home for Thanksgiving this year.  I'd be lying if I said I didn't.  For the most part, though, I only felt gratitude for this precious little family that surrounded me.  We decided ahead of time to keep the day low key.  We made no big plans except that we would be together. 

I'm not sure there is anything better than lingering a little too long in p.j.'s and bedhead in the morning.  I think if I could have it my way we would do this every single morning.  We sat together on the living room floor and learned that it takes our entire family nearly 30 minutes to fit together a 63-piece puzzle. 

 

































We watched the clock in anticipation of the event of the morning. . . The Macy's Parade.  I will admit it.  I talked up the parade.  I am a girl who LOVES traditions and  I want to create memories for my kids. So much of my own childhood was built around traditions that we incorporated every year.  I long for my kids to value traditions and to look back fondly at memories that we created around certain times and events of the year.  Even if they are as simple as watching the parade.  What joy I had watching my girl shimmy her hips with the dancers on the screen.

This Thanksgiving each of us felt the shift in our family with the addition of Meadow.  Oh, I was so nervous about how Charlie and Chanelle would receive this little gift and I have quickly learned that they have plenty of room in their hearts to love another.

It's beyond anything that I can really understand but they have embraced their new little sister without question or concern.  I'll tell you one thing, Meadow is a lucky girl to have these two.  Our lazy afternoon included taking Meadow on her first outing. . . a walk on an uncommonly warm November day.

She was thrilled to get out, can't you tell? 

Oh, and Dad?  He's handling this father of three thing quite well.  This having two daughters thing fits him well. . . .

I promise, Meadow could breathe.

In the afternoon I talked to my Dad. . .

Does the house smell like turkey?
It sure does, he told me.
Can you send me some stuffing?

The Thanksgiving meal has always been a big tradition at our house.  My Mom's turkey and dressing is the best.  While I wasn't up for going all out this year, I did my best to create a meal that was memorable. 

Truth is, Chad and the kids would have been perfectly happy with a bowl of cereal for dinner.  I just can't do that, though.  As a wife and a Mom I want to create a special atmosphere for special occasions.  Even if they don't see it now I hope that someday they will understand the love with which I do these things.  I think they enjoyed it. . .

Maybe it wasn't a large turkey, but Cornish Hen's were special, too. 

And as we sat around the table that evening and joined hands in a prayer of Thanks each of us uttered the same words. . . thank you for our family and thank you for bringing Meadow to us. . .

Thanksgiving did look different this year.  Now that I'm on the other side of it, I see that different isn't always bad.  I have so much to be thankful for and this year we created memories that were all our own.  They were new, special, and beautiful in their own unique way.  And as the days and years continue to move forward the same theme continues to arise. . . no matter how bitter-sweet a situation is--what I chose to focus on makes all the difference. 

Truly, Thanksgiving is more than a Day but at it's best, it is a lifestyle.

If "thank you" is the only prayer you say, that will be enough.
-Meister Eckhart

What's Behind The Name?

We have been asked the question a lot. . . "what is behind Meadow's name?"  I thought I would take an opportunity now to answer the big question. 

Of course all of us take great care in the naming of our children.  We are no exception.  I feel that in naming our children we begin the process of shaping them.  Maybe that sounds silly, but I truly believe it.  From their first breath we speak their name and their name begins to define them.  (Or they define their name.)  Having grown up with the name "Summer" I have always been especially aware of the power of our names.  Often,  I was teased because of my name.  It never bothered me, though, I felt my name said something. . . Whether I fit my name or my name fit me. . . it just worked.  Even today, I often get sarcastic comments about my name and while I usually roll my eyes and spout right back, I am acutely aware that my name sticks out.  I like that.

When we chose the names for our children we wanted them to have meaning.  We wanted the name to say something.  We wanted our kids to be proud of their names.  Personally, I think each of them fit their name beautifully.

Charles Kim.  (Charlie)

Charlie was named after my Grandfather (Charles) and my Father-in-Law (Kim).  We felt that the name was strong and that he was carrying with him a legacy of strength.  My Grandfather and Father-in-Law are extremely proud of their name sake.  I believe that Charlie will be just as proud to carry the name throughout his life. 

Chanelle Christen

After naming Charlie, Chad and I really liked the idea of giving our children heritage names.  We felt, in a strange sort of way, that having family names carry on a legacy and give meaning.  I was lucky enough to have parents that gave me a really pretty first and middle name which we then passed on to our first daughter.  Chanelle is my middle name and Christen is my maiden name.  I am very proud of my maiden name and I was thrilled when we were able to carry it on in our own little family when Chanelle was born.  Just like Charlie, I believe Chanelle will carry her name with pride throughout her life.

Meadow Forsha (pronounce Forshay)

Chad and I agonized over this name.  From the beginning we knew that we would use "Forsha".  Forsha is my Mother-in-laws maiden name.  I think it's beautiful and hopefully someday we will stop saying, "Forsha pronounced Forshay".  Forshay just sounds so pretty as opposed to "forsha" like porsha.  We had searched through both sides of our families to find a heritage name that would be perfect for her first name.  Unfortunately, nothing struck us the way Charlie and Chanelle had.  Several months ago we finally found a name that we both liked.  We weren't thrilled with it, but thought it was pretty and unique.  Unique was the key with this.  I really wanted this baby to have a unique name.  The name we chose was "Saige".

Saige is pretty.  I really liked it and so did Chad.  We decided we would not tell anyone the name because we were getting swayed too much by the opinions of others.  Several days later, though, my Grandmother (a.k.a Mama) got it out of me while we were talking on the phone.  After we hung up we had the following exchange via several emails. . .

Mama:  I promise not to do this again - the name you mentioned reminded me of Meadow, and I thought - Hey, I like that - I think it is so pretty.

Summer:  It is pretty...I'll mention it to Chad...I have a feeling he won't like it.  Saige is the only one we have agreed on.
Summer:  It's growing on me by the minute...it really is.  And guess what...Chad even likes it.
Mama:   You are such a nature family, I'm glad you like it.  I've never heard of any one named Meadow.  Loads of time yet - not really.
Summer:  Wow....yeah...I think I'm really liking it.:)

Today, I asked my Grandmother to recall her thought process in coming up with this name.  She said, "My thoughts in mentioning it was it seemed so peaceful, clean and sweet.  Never having heard of it before as a name made it a little more special and seemed to suit your family  as well." 

There you have it.  This is how Meadow got her name.  While it's not fully a "heritage" name, it is a name that was suggested by my Grandmother and so will carry with it the same special meaning and relevance as Charlie and Chanelle.  She has a unique name and while she might hear some negative comments throughout her life, my hope is that she will embrace it and see it as just as lovely as I see my own.  Having known Meadow for just five short days, I would already venture to say that she fits her name perfectly.  Just as my Grandmother said. . . Meadow is "peaceful" and "sweet" beyond words. 

**If you like her name I invite you to share your thoughts so years from now when she is complaining that we have given her such a "weird" name we can point back to this space and the positive reactions from others.  :)

Meadow

I don't even know where to begin.  There is just so much.  So much I want to say about the happenings of the last four days.  I anticipate that I will have trouble putting my thoughts into any semblance of cohesive words.  As I lover of words, I suspect there is no way any compilation of words can fully capture the beauty, emotion, and wonder I feel at the birth of our new little girl. 

But still. . . I shall try. 

I will warn you. . . this might get long.  I apologize in advance for that.  I can't help it.  No matter how long it gets, though, I'm certain it could be longer.  Maybe you don't want to read this now.  Or maybe you will want to grab a cup a coffee and a bathroom break before you start in.  Just know that I am doing my best to keep it concise without leaving too much out. 

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I want to start by saying a big thank you for all that commented and embraced Chad's guest post.  He was a bit hesitant when I initially asked him to do it, but he dove in anyway.  I'm glad that so many got a glimpse of the good guy that I've often spoke about here.  Now you know I'm not lying. . . he really is that much of a Good Guy. 

Now it is my turn and I will do my best not to duplicate this thoughts. 
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November 17th, 2011 we were scheduled for an induction.  I must admit that since this was the third time we had done this, I thought the process might be a bit anti-climactic.  "Old hat", shall we say?  Oh, I knew it would be cool, but I thought it might be a familiar experience and lacking the excitement and anticipation that were so present at the births of Charlie and Chanelle. 

Oh my, was I ever wrong. 

When we got to the hospital we had just one goal. . .

Have a baby.

The goal remained the same until the hours continued to tick by one after another without any progress.  At that point, Chad amended the goal. . .

Have a baby so an early super can be enjoyed.  

Once his goal was adjusted, the process flipped into high gear.  The final moments before she was born happened so quickly and were in stark contrast to the way we spent much of the day waiting.   In a matter of 45 minutes I went from 4 cm. to 10 cm. and was cautioned not to push until my doctor arrived.  Quickly, we put on the song that was playing at the birth of each one of our children (Welcome to Our World) and everyone got into place.  My doctor swept into the room, was masked and gowned and with just a couple of breathtaking pushes the wails of our baby echoed throughout the room.  Tears streamed down my face as I sat up in antipation until I heard the words I had waited so long to hear . . It's a Girl!

Sweet Meadow was welcomed into our world by the ear to ear smiles of Chad and I, as well as tears of joy that were impossible to stop.  This moment is one I will never, ever forget.  As Meadow was laid on my chest, I looked over at my sister who was also shedding tears of joy and at the same time we said it. . . Mom would be so happy right now.  She looked at her niece and I looked at my daughter and we both knew that our Mom would be proud of this moment we shared. 

The night before we were to go to the hospital I received the following words in an email from a friend: "This sweet Baby K came into your life, into your body, for a reason... for a distinctive reason. Perhaps you will heal even more from your unbelievable loss with the gain of this new baby."

Something in these words struck me.  Something in these words rang true.  And even though I am unable to pinpoint it right now, I believe that healing is and will continue to come though this birth.  My friends words continued. . .

"This time, when we bring new life into the world, is full of so much emotion. It's impossible NOT to think of our mothers... to want to right what has been wronged with our relationships... to attempt to understand them in ways that we never before could. Just having them near when a new baby comes home with us provides more comfort than any one else can understand."

Her words are so true and yet I'm learning that confronting them, feeling them, and simply walking through them brings comfort.  As I stared at my new little girl, flanked by Chad and my sister, my Mom's absence was blaring.  In moments, though, the room filled with open hearts that were ready to receive this new little life and my heart knew that all will be okay, in spite of it all.

That evening after friends and family left, Chad and I sat in the darkened hospital room and awed at all that had taken place that day.  I stared at Meadow and was overcome with this most precious gift. For hours I sat with only a dim light shadowing her face and I stared in wonder.  I stared at the stranger whom we had only met a few hours earlier and marveled that I was already totally and utterly in love with her.

The reality nearly takes my breath away.

While I thought that having my third baby might be less exciting than the first two, it turns out that it has been even more incredible.  In the last couple days, I have experienced a depth of emotions that feel new to me.  Whereas with Charlie and Chanelle I felt as though I was simply surviving each day, this time I find myself slowing down and taking in each moment.  I sit and I stare for hours.

I have memorized  her face.  Each wrinkle, crevice, and all the silly faces she makes while she sleeps. . . I've etched them all in my mind.

I run my hand over her dark hair that is wet from my tears and I say prayers of thanks for the gift we've been given.  I'm not rushing these moments, but fully taking them in.

More than once, I've said to Chad, I was born to do this.  To be her Mom.  To be their Mom.  Throughout these last few days the weight of the responsibility has hit me.  These little ones are mine, for a time, to love, train up, and guide through these days. 

I can't imagine a greater call.

It's true, this time has been different.  I'm not sure if it's because we know this is our last. . . the completion of our family.  Or if it is because of the ways that I have changed over the last few years.  What I know now that I didn't really know when Charlie and Chanelle were born is that life is so very precious.  What I understand now that I didn't understand then is that the hours, weeks, months and years go by so quickly and I will never regret slowing down, but I will always regret going too fast. 

 And so I slow down and see this precious life for what it is. . .a gift.  I breathe in her scent and I watch with joy as Charlie and Chanelle wonder at the baby that was in Mommy's belly.

 Some moments I laugh and other moments cry. In every moment, though, I am thankful that our family has grown and Meadow is now one of us. 

My heart is filled with excitement to see who she will become and what plans are laid out for her.  What I know for sure, as my friend said, is that she has come at this time and in this way for a specific purpose and already I am seeing and believing that. 

When we walked into the hospital last week, I really had no idea what to expect.  What I found out, though, is that upon leaving. . .

. . . my heart would be completely wrecked. . .

Need I say it?  We adore our newest family member. 

Welcome to the world Meadow!

This is not a post about Meadow

It's a post about eggs.  I'm not even talking about the sperm fertilized kind of egg that eventually became Meadow. I'm actually referring to the real come-from-the-chicken kind of eggs. The hard boiled kind, to be exact. 

I am anxious to write about Meadow and the glorious experience it has been to bring her into our family.  In my head the words are floating around just waiting to take shape.  My plan was to take time to do that tonight.  Most of the last four days since her birth have been occupied by simply holding, staring, and marveling at her.  At this point, to tear myself away from her is almost painful. 

This afternoon I tested the waters of putting her down just long enough to boil some eggs for Chad's lunch.  Seems easy enough, huh?  I rushed into to kitchen, gently placed a few eggs into a pan, and put the pan on the stove. . . A task I've done no less than 3500 times, I'm certain.  After turning on the stove top, I went about doing a few other things while I waited the 7 minutes it takes to boil the eggs. 

Suddenly, a loud POP echoed throughout the house.  What the heck was that? I said to Chad as I rushed toward the sound of the POP.  The sound had come from the stove top.  This is what I found. . .

Note to self:  When boiling eggs. . . always use water.

Turns out I neglected to put water in the pan before boiling the eggs. 

DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME.

After this incident, I realize I need a bit more time to organize my thoughts and to fully invest in my first "Meadow" post.  Please, bear with me. . . it will come soon.