Joy, redefined

I just finished the most wonderful book. There was nothing sensational about it, just a genuine, good, literary piece of storytelling. The craftmanship of the writing was soothing to my soul, as it has been a month or two since I read anything truly well-written (I have high standards; blame it on my literature professors).  For the first time ever, I appreciated the slow pace of the novel. I needed something to calm me down, draw me in sentence by sentence, and take more than a day and a half to read.

Towards the end of the novel, there was a phrase that caught my attention.

...a child's joy is doubled for the mother...

"That's true," I thought to myself. Whenever Kevin laughs or smiles, my heart sings. We had a moment like this last night. Wednesdays are long days. Scott works eight or nine hours, is home long enough to eat and finish up homework, and then leaves again for class for the rest of the night. To make things worse, Kevin had been up at 2:00 am, then again at 6:00 am, and then refused to nap for more than 40 minutes throughout the day. She was cranky and clingy, and I'd spent the day trying to get shutterfly projects done in between entertaining her. She finally went to bed about half an hour after Scott left for class, only to wake up and go back down two more times. Around 9:30 we both got tired of the trying to get her to sleep routine, so I brought her out to the living room, set her on the floor, and we started playing with the big orange ball I'd bought at Walmart for $1.50 a few days before.

We rolled it back and forth and she giggled. I started bouncing it and throwing it gently in the air and she laughed. When I lightly bopped her face with it, and then mine, and then hers again, she roared with laughter. By the time Scott got home, we were both close to tears from having laughed so hard.

Such a simple, simple thing.

An orange ball.

A silly game.

A little voice, giggling.

Doubled joy.

On Tuesday my institute teacher posed a question to our room full of young mothers: "What makes an ideal day for you?"

Yesterday was an ideal day for me. It wasn't because Kevin refused to sleep, had two poopy diapers (one of which was a blow out), went through two sets of clothes, undid most of the laundry I folded, and peed all over her changing pad. It sure wasn't because I didn't get a shower and was stressed about getting Christmas  put together. It definitely wasn't because Scott was gone all day, neither of us felt well, and the cupboards are pretty bare since I haven't gone grocery shopping in three weeks.

It was because, at two a.m., I got to cuddle my daughter, the two of us bathed in the glow from the little white lights on our Christmas tree. It was because I spent the day putting together projects for my family and exercising my creativity. It was because I made my baby girl laugh. It was because I didn't have to leave the house all day. It was because I miraculously got a second wind about 5:00 and actually cleaned up the house for once.  It was because, for a short hour while Kevin slept and Scott was at school, I read my book in complete silence. It was because, when my head hit the pillow, I knew I'd had a productive day and filled every minute with something or someone I loved.

This is joy.

PS: What was the book, you ask? "The Shoemaker's Wife" by Adriana Trigiani. Amazing. Read it. 

Right Where I Want To Be

This week has been all sorts of craziness and at the end of the day, I feel grateful that I've been allowed to be exactly where I am right now. I've been given the opportunity to do things for loved ones this week that remind me that my favorite role is that of The Helper.

Scott got sick for like the first time in a year (at least) on Tuesday night. It was so strange to be sending him to bed, making sure he was eating and drinking enough, and stacking up extra blankets as he burned with fever and shivered at the same time. All to often he ends up being the caregiver for me. I am grateful for the opportunity to have the tables reversed a bit. That said...I'm all too grateful that he is feeling better now. It's hard when my "babycare backup" is out of commission and I am it. I am grateful to have a husband who is so willing to help out, and the reminder of how much he does for us. You never realize how much you love and rely on someone/something until they aren't there anymore.

Kevin has been a funny little cuss this week. Sometimes I think we are hitting the emotional roller coaster early with her--one minute she is screaming and the next she is giggling. The other day she had a giggle fit everytime she looked at Scott. He didn't even have to be looking back at her--she just saw him and she started laughing. Then last night I'd put a bib on her to keep her from drooling all over her pjs before bed and as I walked away she ripped it right off. The girl has attitude. I am so blessed to be her mommy. Even when she cries and I can't get her to go to sleep before 11:00 at night, I cuddle her a little closer, sing a little softer and longer, and kiss her a few extra times.

A friend of ours sent his special someone on a mission this week. Poor guy. We love him, and we know what the whole waiting game is like, and we also know what makes the waiting game easier and what makes it harder and this poor couple seems to have made it as hard on themselves as possible (sorry Jonny). I am grateful that he has sought our advice and come to us for comfort. I love being available when a friend is in need. There really is nothing better than being there for someone.

My grandmother passed away this past Sunday. I surely miss her. My aunts and uncles asked me to help write her life sketch and to share some of my memories of her at her funeral. This is an exceptional honor for me as my grandma has 30-ish grandchildren. I have been stressing over my talk all week. Trying to put a lifetime of memories into a five-minute talk is impossible--and choosing what to include and what to keep out is an equally daunting task. I just want to do her memory justice. Today I spent over an hour reading through her personal history. I am so grateful for the record she so caringly put together for her posterity. Love for her God, her husband, her children, and her grandchildren fills each page. I learned things about her I'd never known before. And at the same time, I am grateful for all the things I do know about her--things that I learned from growing up next door, from living with her for a few short months, from weekly visits and taking time to serve her. I don't regret any of that time and I know she knows how much I love her.

Today I mopped my mother's kitchen floor for the first time in at least two years. I'd forgotten how much time goes into that job to truly make the tile shine (my little sister took over while I was on my mission and does it most often now). I am grateful that Heavenly Father has placed me in a position where I have been able to be there for my family this week. I have learned that there is no such thing as sacrifice when you are giving up something that would have blessed only you in order to bless the lives of those you love. Such an opportunity is an honor, and I am grateful that my siblings allowed us such an experience this week.

In the end, I have learned this week that I am exactly where I want to be. I am grateful for opportunities to follow through on promptings from the Holy Ghost and serve those around me. This week has taught me that I have so much.


PS- I am also unbelievably grateful that the ridiculous "Twilight" sensation is coming to a close with the release of the final movie today. I am a PROUD anti-Twilight woman who thinks all of those books should be burned...well, at least the fourth one should be burned for sure, the others are just stupid. I know, I have read them. They have no literary merit whatsoever. And to moms of teenage girls everywhere--beware, there is a REASON that the final two movies were almost given an "R" rating!

Trick or Treat or... something else entirely?

Last week, Scott and I had something that most of our society labels as a “scare” but I am choosing to call “a fork in the road.”

One night about two weeks ago, I woke up in the middle of the night. Our daughter was crying in her sleep, but it wasn’t the nursery I ran to.

It was the bathroom.

I lost everything in my stomach and I thought, “Oh, no, here we go again.”

My mind raced with all the fears I had about having another baby. Giving birth to Kevin was no picnic—and I certainly didn’t relish the thought of throwing up every day for the next seven, eight, maybe nine months. Or getting less sleep than I already was. Or trying to teach Kevin to walk when I could only waddle myself. And I didn’t think I could go through the agony of a sick baby in the NICU again.

Groan.

After Scott calmed down the baby and I cleaned up my mess, we crawled back into bed and he tucked the covers around me. One look at him and I knew he was wondering the same thing I was thinking. “Do you think you could be pregnant?” he whispered.  

For the next week, as I continued to not feel well, I wondered, I worried, I did the math. Every time I looked at Kevin I counted the months. If I go full-term this time—please bless I go full term this time—I’m due in July. That’s 16 months.

Too soon. She’s not ready. He’s not ready. I’M not ready.

When we got back from running errands and I carried Kevin up the stairs, I wondered how I would manage carrying her and a car seat. The stairs are too steep to let a 16-month-old climb on her own.  And the next baby—please bless I go full-term—is likely to come out weighing upwards of nine pounds.

When I picked up the house and cleaned, I wondered where on earth we would put another baby.  Our bedroom was already full of the desk and bookcases we’d moved to make room in the nursery and living room. Kevin’s room was overrunning with baby items she’s already outgrown in eight months. The storage closet downstairs is full to the brim of bikes my husband doesn’t have time to ride, Christmas decorations I can’t bear to get rid of, fans we can’t survive the summer heat without…oh no. Pregnant during the summer?

I’m gonna die.

When Scott called to tell me about work, I wondered how he would be able to stand working at his current job for three more months just to make sure we could somewhat pay for another baby. Or what if that dream job actually came along in May and we had to move and have a baby on Cobra insurance? 

When I put Kevin down for a nap, I wondered what we would do about the crib situation. I didn’t want to buy another one. Kevin wouldn’t be ready for a big girl bed at 16 months, even if we had room for one. I don’t relish the thought of buying another crib anyway. We’d picked this one knowing that it would cuddle all of our babies.

I wondered about how things would go this time. I’ve been telling myself since Kevin was born that I better just expect a stay in the NICU. IDM, that’s what they’ll always call my babies: Infant of a Diabetic Mother. In their first days, Kevin’s siblings will likely have the same difficulties she did regulating her blood sugar.  Like her, would they have to wait over a week to enjoy their first meal? Or would I get to actually nurse the baby normally this time? Would nursing even work? Breastfeeding with Kevin was a nightmare because we got off to such a rough start. She didn’t want me, and when she did, she wanted a bottle an hour later. So I pumped and pumped and pumped to make it to my goal of six months and then we said good riddance as I cleaned and put away the breast pump and made room in our cupboard for cans of formula. But, maybe, just maybe…I’d be able to nurse this baby within hours of his/her being born. And I wouldn’t have to rely on a pump all day, just once in a while. Maybe I could get it right this time.

And then, sometimes, when Kevin was napping and there was peace and quiet, I wondered if we would have a boy or a girl. A girl would be nice, we already have everything we need for a girl. Except a name. We have a boy name all picked out (actually, we have two). But we don’t have any boy clothes. Or boy nursery decorations. Or boy experience. I would surf babycenter.com for names, for pregnancy information I’ve already forgotten. We’d be due at the beginning of July. Well, July is good. During July my mom isn’t teaching school. She could help.

But she’s going to think you are crazy…we’ve had how many conversations in the last three months about having babies too close together? How am I going to explain this one? Nobody will buy that he/she is not a surprise…and how am I going to break it to my friends that struggle with infertility that I’d been blessed with a too-soon "oops" baby when they are going on years of trying for their first?

Sometimes, I’d think back to those days of when we brought Kevin home from the hospital. How small she was. The way she would grip my finger and cuddle up on my shoulder (she’s decided she’s too big to cuddle her head on my shoulder now).  Back when she depended on me for everything. And how I loved holding my little newborn in my arms.

Maybe, just maybe, we could survive another baby.

My period was one day late, then two. It was Halloween. As we packed Kevin up to go home from my parents, my mom made a comment about Halloween next year and maybe I’d be sick again by then with a little brother or sister. Scott and I exchanged smiles. Maybe sooner than next fall, we both thought, and we were okay with it.

But the next morning, when I felt World War 3 begin in my uterus, I realized, as I breathed a guilty sigh of relief, that it was okay. Either way. We weren’t expecting, but if we were, it would be okay. And finally, for the first time since Kevin had been born, I wasn’t terrified at the thought of being pregnant and going through labor all over again.

We are making progress.

Mmm....November...

I'll be honest.

I've never liked November.

Until now.

When I was younger, I thought November was such a dreary month. I couldn't for the life of me figure out why Louisa May Alcott would have her most-loved heroine Jo March born in November. Now, I think there is a certain something romantical about it. Good things in my life have happened in November, like birthdays of some of my favorite people, my first baptisms in the mission field, my first date, and the real return of basketball season (Go Aggies!).

Today, I am happy. I am excited about life, even with all of its uncertainties. Probably this comes from just getting off the phone with one of my dearest friends--I've been waiting to have that "tell him to go to this jeweler, not that one" conversation with her for a long while now. Nothing like a pending engagement/wedding to get a girl excited about life.

Also, I spent an hour and a half writing this morning. NaNoWriMo is underway! And I'm only 300 words behind already!. I also want to completely rewrite everything I spent this morning writing...but, hey, the goal for me is not exactly 50,000 words or a finished rough draft by the end of the month. It's to spend time each day writing and getting back into the habit. If I can reach 30,000 words I will be ecstatic! And no, nobody gets to read any of it until at least December (this means you Scotty!)

Here's all the preview you get:

For Kevin, my real-life fairy tale

And for her father, who listens to the things I’m not saying

I might not be the type of person who can handle a working career in addition to being a mom, but I want my daughter growing up seeing me being passionate about my interests and hobbies. I've already seen this in her as she's shown more and more interest in books lately (especially the ones I'm reading!). I want her to know that she can be anything she wants to be. I chose to be her mom first and everything else second. That doesn't mean that those "secondary" things can't be important too though!

We have so much to look forward to this month. NaNoWriMo is just the beginning. There is also our new family history class, creating our annual Thankful Chart, Stake Conference, my nephew's baby blessing, finding out if our newest addition to the Fowler family is a boy/girl (Kevin and I are really hoping for a girl cousin!), more football and basketball games, Thanksgiving Break, Kevin learning to crawl/scoot (she's getting oh so close!) and spending time with family and friends. Maybe a few life surprises along the way--you never know!