Because, Spencer, you're almost not five...

Dearest Spencer,

This morning, you proclaimed to me, "Mom, I'm almost not five!" We have been talking about your upcoming birthday for quite a few days now, and the excitement of it's impending arrival is definitely stirring excitement in your little-huge heart.  

It's true, buddy, you're almost not five.  In fact, within a few short hours, the clock will strike midnight, and it will be the first of November, and you will turn six.  Now granted, you weren't born until the evening, so you won't officially be six til after 7:30pm, but I will keep that secret to myself for now and enjoy a few more hours knowing that you're "still five."  My momma heart isn't ready for a six-year-old just yet.

Spenk-a-Doodle, you are growing way too quickly.  Within the past few months especially, you've transformed so much from a slightly anxious preschooler, to a confident kindergartner.  You've shown me that you are now incredibly brave, gentle, strong, intelligent, and surprising.  You're so full of wonder and intrigue.  It may drive me to the brink of wanting to put in ear plugs and pretend I can't hear the seven bazillionth question you've asked on the way to school (which, by the way, is about a 7 minute drive, sir) some days, but truly, I appreciate your intense desire to learn.  "I like to know stuff," you told me recently when I asked why you fire off questions so quickly.  It's true, you do.

Spencer, I am incredibly impressed with your compassionate heart, and your desire to know Jesus, God, and the Holy Spirit.  You talk of all three of them frequently, and questions about them and the Bible are among the never-ending questions you ask.    Your questions are so deep sometimes that I am unsure how to answer, and while I feel timid attempting, I am so impressed and so proud of you for where you are in your faith. You may be pint-sized in the eyes of some, but you are growing ginormous faith.  I pray that others will see this and be inspired by you, especially your siblings.

You love nature and athletics, art and music.  I am continually impressed by your many skills.  Some of your recently acquired ones are tree climbing, reading some words, writing and painting words, hockey, skee ball, climbing walls, and identification of many musical instruments.  

Your brother and sister adore you and look up to you very much.  I hope that you know this, and remember this, even when they're pestering you, in your personal space, and driving you crazy.  They miss seeing you around as much as they did, now that you are in school, and sometimes they don't know how to really handle those feelings.  But, they love you. They talk about you when you're not around, and miss you, asking where you are and when we will get you back.  

Spencer, I want to thank you for all that you've taught me in our almost not five years together.  It's crazy to think that we've been on this team together that long.  Six years sounds like such a long time, even though in the grand scheme of things, it's minuscule. You've taught me so much about patience, unconditional love, parenting, faith, wonder, and whimsy.  You make me laugh until I cry sometimes (although the interrupting cow knock-knock joke has really worn out it's novelty, no offense).  Sometimes, I just look at you and cry tears of overwhelming joy and gratitude.

You're the one who made me mommy first.  We've had so many firsts together in these past five years, and I know we have countless more ahead of us.   I'm so grateful that they will be with you, my brave, caring, funny, ornery, blue-eyed miracle.  

Thank your for still being willing to cuddle, to hug me, to kiss me, even in public and in front of your friends, and for telling me that you love me countless times a day.  Thank you for inviting me to play, telling me your stories and dreams, and challenging me (even when I can't stand it sometimes).

I'm sorry there are days your heart still hurts and aches incredibly as you miss your dad.  I know you're still looking for him, and I know that you're still sad he's missing out on your growing up, and things like your birthday.  I love that you still pray for him.  I'm sorry he's missing your birthday again this year.  But, I am so thankful that there are so many others out there who love you, who tell you how much they love you, and show you how much they love you.  From family, to friends, to Sunday School teachers and neighbors- you are one adored little boy.  It doesn't make it better, but I pray it fills your heart to overflowing.

I've said it before and I will say it again- You're the best thing that ever happened to me (and yes, I say it to your siblings too). 

 Happy Birthday, Spencer Jacob.  I pray immeasurable joy, love, and blessings upon you.  

I love you.

MOM 

Ripping Bandaids

I've had some heartbreaks in my life.  I say this not to be dramatic, or for sympathy.  It's just fact.  Now, these heartbreaks, in some ways, define who I am as an individual.  They help develop the capacity for love and loss in my heart.  While many times, I wish that they had never happened, I know that they are my testimony.

This weekend is another milestone or anniversary-filled weekend.  I look back, and five years ago, I was losing my second baby, early on in pregnancy.  Two years ago, I was a bit terrified, knowing my then-husband was driving to my hometown to bring my children and I back to our current town, after I had fled for a few days in fear and confusion, spending them largely trying to decode mysteries and lies in our lives.  

The memories of these dates came rushing back to me this evening, as I made the drive home from taking my children to see their grandparents.

This weekend, this year, was filled with my former husband's family.  It nearly completes the first visits with each of his siblings or parents in over year (or more in some cases).  

A month and a half ago, I spent a few hours at his mother's house.  His mom has been a second mom to me for about 15 years now, but I hadn't been to her house since before he disappeared from our lives.  I hadn't been to the house I spent countless hours, days, weekends, and weeks at in over two years.  Her house was where he first told me that he wanted me to be his wife some day, that he wanted to have children with me, grow old together, and hopefully die together at the same time in a poetic Romeo & Juliet-esque finale (meaning simply at the same time or minutes apart).  We spent many holidays there together.  The house itself is jam-packed with memories that shaped who I was individually, but also who we were as a couple.  

As I drove there that day, I prayed repeatedly that God would give me strength, peace, and grace, and that I wouldn't be reduced to a blubbering ball of tears.  He answered my prayers and I didn't cry at all until the drive home.

Fast forward to this weekend, where his youngest brother, who I met when he wasn't even a teenager, who became one of my dearest friends very early on, his wife, and their infant son came to visit.  I hadn't seen them in over a year at all, since a family gathering I felt completely out of place at the summer before.  I was excited and anxious at the prospect of the three of them here, in our new home, for the first time.  I didn't want it to be awkward or silent or feel like there was a giant chasm in our relationship.  

We had a good time over lunch, watching our children laugh and play, and reminiscing some and talking about life now.  We exchanged multiple hugs, and when they left, I didn't cry at all.  I felt at peace, and I was so relieved.  

His twin brother is married to one of my dearest friends, and they live nearby.  (He was at our place also when the youngest brother was here.)  They've been around before, during, and after my life crumbled, and they've never wavered.  We see them regularly and my children adore them, as do I.  We were blessed to be able to have an afternoon adventure with them at the science center, which the children talked about the rest of the evening.  The science center and their baby cousin.  It was a good day.

Today, the children and I were journeying to my former-husband's father and step-mother's house about an hour away.  Up until today, I hadn't been there in nearly two years.  The last time we went was Thanksgiving in 2014.  He had shown up late, angry, and bitter, and the drive there was wretched, as was the drive home.  Knowing this and feeling some of the residual emotions still lingering, the prospect of going back there today, without him, was uneasy.  But, in my heart, I felt I needed to.

As I was preparing myself for the adventure today, I told a friend that it's sort of like ripping another band-aid off my heart.

The wounds that were left when our marriage crumbled were deep, intense, gaping holes.  I remembered him vividly telling me that no matter what happened, I would always be a part of his family, not only because of the kids, but because they loved me.  I tried to believe him, but always was weary of the truth, because so many of the things that he had told me in that period were blatant lies.    

While I have been in contact with the majority of his family this entire time, I hadn't gone back to his parents homes, and I hadn't seen most of them much at all, because, for all of us, it was painful.  We may not have spoken it, but it was true.  He ripped all our hearts up a bit, and seeing each other was a vivid reminder of that- the life and lives he helped create and then abandoned.  There are always questions, but most of the time they are unspoken, because we know we do not understand or have the answers.  

I have ripped nearly all of the band-aids off, in regard to his family, the other half of my family.  

Some of it remained constant, and some things have changed.

I think the changed have helped me, honestly.

There were slight differences at his mom's house.  New photos of my kids on the fridge, the basement looking completely different from it was the years I spent hanging out in it.

His youngest brother and his wife have a son.  They visited us here, our new apartment where he has never set foot.

His dad and step-mom have new furniture.  I know that sounds trivial and silly, but it wasn't like walking into a big time machine, and the newness of it helped me ease back into the walls.

I mustered up the courage to see these people all again, without him, in new circumstances, a year or more later from the times that were very meaningful in this journey.  I am so glad I did.

Because I realized, for once, he was right.  He didn't lie when he said his family would embrace me as their own, and that they wouldn't shut me out.  I haven't been replaced, and my children and I are loved and welcomed.  They still hug me and tell me they love me, and of course they do the same for my children.  Yes, there's still pain and awkward pauses, but they don't sever us like they could.  Yes, we still wonder, and yes, I still cry.  I may cry each and every time.  I don't know that it will ever be a completely pain-free experience, though I pray that it will.

 I cried today when I left his dad's house.  I realized in the moment they were hugging me that he was right about his family.  

I ripped the band-aids, and the wounds have healed.  Yes, they've scarred over some, but they're no longer gaping.   Things are definitely not the same, but they're not terrible.  In the pain we all feel, we still feel joy and blessings.  Each of the times I ripped the band-aid off, I have been told that his family hopes to see us again soon, and that they are proud of me and my children.  

I think... I think I am proud of us, too.

To Ollie Bear for his 4th birthday

Dear Ollie Bear, 

Tonight, as I chase you back into your room for the third time, you are a bubbling ball of three-year-old energy.

In the morning, you'll be a groggy, pint-sized four-year-old.

I know I say it all too often, but I can hardly believe it is happening.  How did I blink so many times that another year has gone by?  It hurts my heart to see the days passing so quickly, knowing that I haven't savored enough moments to last my lifetime, and taking those that have gone by for granted more often than I dare to admit.

I am sorry, Ollie Bear, for letting time pass us by so quickly.   I wish I could pause it and we could stay here just a little longer.

Dear boy, you are such a complex combination of gentle spirit, fire-cracker temper, detail oriented dirt magnet of a lad.  You are intense, but soft.  You are quiet, and so boisterous.  You are calm, and you are ferocious.  You have so many facets, and I know we haven't discovered most of them yet.

You have a vivid imagination that never ceases to surprise and amuse me.  Just the other night, you told me that your shirt transformed into a new shirt, when I asked what happened to the clothes you were wearing.  I laughed so hard.

You know so many things, and you try so hard to understand what you don't know.  I love the intrigue in your spirit and the thirst in your mind.

I love your laughter, and I hope that I will never forget what it sounded like in these early years.  I can hear it so clearly in my mind now that it causes tears to trickle, because it causes my heart to swell with so much joy.

Another thing I really love about you, is that even when you're mad at someone, me included, you almost always will big bear hugs, and you don't stay mad when you are squeezed super tight. I hope you never lose that.

You're at that awkward stage where you're "little-big," wanting so badly to be a big boy, but still so very small.  I pray you'll stay small a little longer in some ways, like how you're usually up for a cuddle, no matter when or where, but progress to big in others (I wouldn't mind you being out of diapers every moment of the day, but I promise I will try to change them at night without frustration knowing full-well someday I'll miss that side of little, too).

Buddy, I promise that I will continue to work on my patience and grace, and trying to spend time with just you, even if it's in minute fragments here and there.  I never want you to feel forgotten or overlooked "in the middle" of your siblings and in the chaos of our lives.  

I pray you will always feel loved, and you'll never feel alone. I pray you know your worth, not only to me and those who love you, but to God.  I pray that you'll never feel unworthy of anyone's affection, knowing that in the years to come, you may struggle due to the events in your toddler-hood.  I pray that you always love learning, creating, laughing, hugging, reading, and dancing.  I pray you give yourself grace and moments to breathe because of your intense spirit.

I pray you know how much your siblings love you, and how you are best friend to both of them, even when you're not getting along.  

As much as I wish you could stay little for a while longer, I am so excited to see what great things God has in store for you.  He has a plan for you, and while I don't know what it is, it excites me to my core.

Collin Liam, you're a treasure.  You are mine, and I'm so blessed that I am yours.

All my Love,

Momma Bear

Our second miracle has finally arrived.

When Baby Bo's due date was decided to be August 19, 2012, I can honestly say I never gave credence to the idea of being pregnant the entire month of August. We "evicted" Spencer the day before his due date, and I just assumed Bo would come around that time as well.

I was wrong.

August 19 came and passed. As it did, we made an appointment with a nurse midwife, who later that week, said she would be willing to wait up to two more weeks, possibly even up until September 9 to induce. I felt pretty frustrated and discouraged. I was only dilated 1 cm and barely thinned out. Realistically, I knew that the end of the pregnancy was coming soon, but with all of the pain sitting, walking, standing, sleeping, doing stairs... basically ANYTHING that I had been enduring the previous couple of weeks, and nearly a month's worth of seemingly pointless contractions, it felt like we would never meet this baby!

I decided to continue on trying "home remedies" to prepare the body for and/or induce labor... evening primrose oil capsules, spicy food, walking, stairs, pressure points, baths, etc. Heck, I even let Jake bounce me around on a teeter totter, and I did 120 jumping jacks one night!

On August 31, we had a third appointment with the midwife. They wanted to do an AFI ultrasound (amniotic fluid index) and a non-stress test before the long holiday weekend. The appointment was set for ten in the morning, but they didn't call us back until 10:57. I was annoyed. The ultrasound took about four minutes, and the doctor came in saying everything looked fine, and making some stupid jokes about how I wanted to hold out until labor day. Ugh.

They sent us upstairs to my midwife, and Jake left to run a few quick errands while I did the NST. Everything seemed to be going well by my analysis, and it was obvious that I was having a few "light" contractions from time to time. The NST took quite a while. The midwife was waiting on the report from the doctor from the AFI and he was not getting it to her. She came to check on me a few times, once saying something like, "since you are do far overdue (almost two weeks past the 19th), we want to be very careful in things, or just get the baby out..." as she walked out the door. Confused and a little alarmed by the wording, I sent Jake a message telling him her words and how I wasn't sure what they meant exactly. A while later, the nurse finally came in and said the ultrasound showed baby was healthy, buty fluid was lower than they liked, and that meant they were going to induce me. She then said the midwife was going to call the hospital and schedule it, but they didn't know when precisely yet.

Oh, I forgot to mention that earlier that week, at our second appointment, they scheduled an induction for 6am on Wednesday, September 5, and I was then 2.5cm and starting to thin (yay for the teeter totter! Haha).

She then left and I text Jake, who showed up minutes later. He seemed a bit anxious, whereas I was just confused and tired of being in the NST room.

Finally, we were told that at 3pm that afternoon, we should arrive at the hospital for check-in, and that a different nurse-midwife would be delivering the baby.

We left in a state of shock. I didn't expect to be induced that day at all. After always waiting... and waiting... and waiting... I was certain that I would be pregnant until the following Wednesday. I had hoped to have the baby way before so that my sister, who spent the summer living with us, could be one of the first to meet him/her, and she also was planning to watch Spencer the first night we were in the hospital. Fortunately, she wasn't moving home until the next day.

We told our parents and siblings, packed our bags, and ate lunch, then the hospital called asking us to come in an hour earlier to get things started. So, off we went.

As luck would have it, though, they promptly checked me in, hade get ony gown, hookede up to the monitors again, and then... I waited for three hours while they figured out what was going on. It seemed to take forever. I laid/sat on the bed for almost two hours staring at this creepy freaking pigeon across from my window who sat there, statuesquely staring in my window, not moving. He actually recruited a friend to help creep me out, and they were both there until dark. I was relieved when my friend Sam showed up to keep me company and we walked a mile.

Finally, at 5:20pm, I met the nurse-midwife who would deliver the baby, Teri (who I loved!), and got the pitocin started. I felt like things were finally, officially, underway.

They were slow moving for a while yet, though. Jesse, make's twin, Sam's boyfriend, came, and then they brought us supper. Creepy birds kept staring. Jillian ce to visit. Jake tan home to put Spencer to bed and get his guitar around 10.

I sent him a text around 10:30 or so saying things were starting to get more painful. He got back to the hospital around 11. By this pint, my times are more approximate, but pretty accurate yet.  I was in some deal of pain now, but getting through it on my own. Within the next half hour, my water started leaking and the pain intensified greatly. I was checked and at 7cm. I told them I was thinking about pain relief but unsure yet.

Then, it felt like my hips were going to shatter. I wasn't having back labor like I did with Spencer, bit it was in my hips and lower abdomen. After talking with Jake, initially I decided that the next some sometime came to check on me, I would request an epidural. My plan had been that I would try to do without, but also that I didn't want to torture myself. Plus, it was late, and I was already exhausted.

The contractions then were steady and painful to the point I had tears. I "agreed" to let Jake get the nurse early and ask for the epidural. This was probably my saving grace and I am thankful he suggested that he would do that for me.

The epidural was administered at 12:25am. It wasn't a fun process. The contractions were every minute lasting minute and a half and having to sit up and hold still as the stuck things in my spine... yeah.  After all was done, the anaesthiologist said it would take around twenty minutes to reach full effect but each contraction would gradually be more bearable.

And... it was, for a little while. But then, around 1am, the pain returned... for transferred, to my back area. Each contraction brought on more pain and pressure. I felt like my insides were going to explode. I had incredible shakes and tears that I could not, for the life of me, fight back. I have never trembled so ferociously in my life. It really scared me, and I told Jake that.

He went and found a nurse who came in and checked me out. Said I was almost ready and that the shakes were a normal side effect. Wretched. As she left, I swore I could probably just have the baby then and there and kept telling Jake that it just needed to be over with NOW.

I felt like pushing, but held back because I was told I wasn't ready, and also, there were no doctors in the room.

Finally, at about 1:45 I was told I was ready to push. So, they helped me roll over and got everything ready, and the next 21 minutes were nothing short of the most painfully, horrific, torture-filled minutes of my life, pretty sure. I believe I told everyone a few times how it "hurt so much" and that I wasn't sure I could do it. Teri told me I could, of course, and was basically on the verge of being done. I had an excruciating leg cramp right before I delivered, and I screamed like I do not recall ever screaming before. I think it freaked Jake out a bit. And then...

Jake proudly announced "IT'S A BOY!"

Collin Liam was born at 2:11am, Saturday, September 1, 2012.

Teri handed him to me immediately and I snuggled him as they cleaned him off. He did not cry, not really. He made a little whimper that lasted maybe 5 seconds after delivery. He just stared at me peacefully. It was surreal, as Spencer screamed for around 40 minute when he entered the world. Truth be told, Collin did not cry for more than 8 collective minutes in the course of his first 24 hours after being born.

Teri, shortly after the birth, said something to the effect of "oh my gosh! I have NEVER seen this before!" It freaked me out, for sure, because she hadn't handed him to me so I couldn't see what was going on. She told us, "this little guy has some angels out there. He has a double knot in his cord."

Woah. Somehow, in utero, Collin had flipped around so much that he tied not one, but two knots in his umbilical cord, one right atop the other, and they were tight. She showed us. It was a bit terrifying, as she explained that could be fatal.she kept saying two knots is just crazy. Guess Collin really was a dancer, like his nickname, Bojangles.

After he was clean, I passed him off to Jake, who cuddled him a while longer. I just stared in awe, thinking how wonderful it is to have two sons. Two of Jake's boys. Two little buddies. I couldn't take my eyes off them as Teri stitched me up.

Collin weighed in at 8 pounds, 13 ounces, and measuring 20.5 inches tall.

Spencer calls Collin "baby." It's adorable. He looks for him in the basinette if he hasn't seen him in a while. He has tried to help feed him once, and he laughs hysterically if Collin has the hiccups.

We love having two little boys. It's going to be quite an adventure.

a memorable hug

Nearly a year ago, my "little" brother left Minnesota on a deployment tour to Kuwait. The deployment ceremony was in May of 2011, and since that time, I believe we had seen him for two other days in the past nearly a year. That's more than many military families can say, I know and for that I'm grateful.

But, let's just be honest, 11 months of "touring" is a long time. Surely, it is for the soldiers, and also their families. I know it's nothing I've knowingly experienced before. And while it was my brother who was off on a mission and not a spouse or a child, it was still a big difference, and a big deal to me. I mean, I see my family every month or so, at least, despite the fact that they live over 2 hours away. We're close. I try to see them as much as a I can. So, when I would visit, or they would visit, multiple times over the last 11 months, and Bryan wasn't around (except for our family gathering and then again for my son's 1st birthday party), it just felt... different.

I have known for a while now, a couple months, anyway, that sometime in April, he would be coming home. He's told me many times, as have my sisters, other brother, and parents. But, I was never certain of the date, because a specific date was never given to us.

So, when my dad called me a week ago, roughly, to tell me that the weekend coming up (this past one, now), Bryan would probably be flying into Minnesota, I was really excited! I didn't think I'd be seeing him right away, but just knowing he'd be on home soil was amazing. And then on Saturday, I saw my mom had said that she's be picking him up on Sunday sometime.

Sunday, as in YESTERDAY. She had figured sometime in the afternoon.

Yesterday morning, she sent me a text saying she was on her way to get him.

And... it just so happens, that was PERFECT.

I had forgotten Spencer's diaper bag, which also housed my wallet, at my aunt's house for Easter the weekend before. Despite a whirlwind busy weekend, chalk full of things to do, Jake told me the other night that we would go get it on Sunday. My sister got it from my aunt's house, so we were going to stop by my dad's and pick it up before heading back to Sioux Falls for the Trans Siberian Orchestra concert.

Seeing as that my mother was getting Bryan in the morning instead of afternoon... that meant we would see him!

So, yesterday, around 3pm, I received one of the most memorable, best hugs I've ever received. And it was from my "little" brother, who is 7.5 years younger than me and towers over me by inches.

I walked up to my dad's house, and he, along with my siblings and parents, walked out. And, still dressed in his uniform, he came up and gave me the tightest hug I've gotten in ages. Ah! I am smiling now just thinking about it.

It was surreal to see him again, being that I hadn't really expected it!

Of course, my father, being the photographer that he likes to be, had to get a picture of us together... so we got to hug again... which became kind of awkward when my dad realized his camera was frozen, and we were standing in the front yard hugging like goons and smiling at my dad... who was not actually taking pictures yet, but telling us "just a minute, hold on." Haha. Bryan started dancing with me, "to the Elton John song in his head," and when I busted a gut laughing and tried to get away, he told me "no, wait, it's only the first chorus!"

So, not only did I get a great first hug, a long, awkward, hilarious second hug, and dance, but another couple when my dad finally enlisted my help in "thawing" (haha) his camera so he took pictures, and you know, when we left again, too. Yup, it was pretty great.

Bryan, for the record, has an excellent sense of humor. One of my biggest fears, aside from losing him while he was overseas, was that he'd come back super serious, or completely changed, and it would feel like we didn't know him at all.

Fortunately, that is not the case. Gosh. When you get all 4 of my siblings and I (ah! I'm so glad this happened) together, sitting at a table, talking and joking around, I laugh harder than I do most anywhere else. With Bryan there, it was just absolutely... perfect.

Though we had to leave after an hour and a half to get back in time for the concert, it was well worth the extra 2.5 hours of travel time, just to see him, talk with him, and hug him a few times. And, we left knowing that it won't be months before we see him again.

Ah!