A moment of clarity

Chicka Chicka Boom Boom… I find myself reciting storybooks (there once was a hiccupotomus who hiccupped quite a lotemus) at odd times – like in the shower – and have to take a moment to think about the changes in my life since becoming a mom. Once upon a time I was able to do what I wanted, when I wanted. I was not hindered by nap times. I had never had a child poop into my hand. I was never woken up by a little voice saying, “Mommy, I want you” that was attached to a body covered in vomit. I did not have to say, “no!” 5 million times each day. I did not have to be constantly thinking two moves ahead to try to organize safety, schedules and mealtimes.

I look in the mirror and see dark circles under my eyes that I can cover with concealer but never quite go away. I feel the knots in my shoulders that have come from holding little bodies practically nonstop for two and a half years. And, as Maggie turns 1 on Friday, I find myself considering my stretched-out-stomach, my priorities, and my purpose.

I think I’ve mentioned that one of my favorite t.v. shows is Jon and Kate plus 8. The most recent episode for Labor Day had the whole family going to the NICU where the sextuplets were for several weeks after they were born. One thing that Kate said has really gotten me thinking: “I watched and felt guilty while we were [at the NICU]. Here we had six babies that were doing well and healthy where other people had just one and they would lose them.” I also think about a 3-year-old named Judson who passed away earlier this year. I didn’t know him personally but lived his story through Rebekah, who became very close to the situation.

When confronted with the reality of life and death I think that your priorities change. I want that clarity. I want to truly absorb how lucky I am that I have two happy, healthy babies.

The past month has been one illness after another for Mia. I also have to admit to being more emotional than usual. I have spent the past couple days trying to decide if Mia’s sicknesses have actually been the precursor to some huge, unsolvable problem that will cause her to die. I’ve literally spent hours trying to decide if I would answer people that I had two children or one after she died. It’s completely morbid and absolutely irrational – call it lack of sleep and intense stress – yet that’s honestly the mental place where I have been. (And, she’s not going to die. At least not this month from some freak illness.)

I usually use this email/blog-space to brag on my children, relate the stories that make me smile or just vent my frustration. Tonight I feel compelled to articulate how precious, how valuable my children are. There is not a single moment I would give up with either of them – from the moments where I laugh huge belly laughs to the times I just sob, wondering how on earth I am up for the challenge of raising two babies so little and so needy. I realize that my life was much more simple before children – heck! before marriage! – but does that mean I would change anything? Absolutely not.

I am so grateful for the blessing of my children. I don’t know what I did to deserve this… but I am completely filled, completely satisfied and completely at peace.

That’s a good place to be.

But, because I can’t possibly send this out without some story…

“Maggie – you’re turning one on Friday!”

[Gobbling noises from Maggie – she was too busy shoving food into her mouth at a fast pace to respond to my overture.]

“Mommy, Maggie 1?” [At least one of them is listening to me. It gives my life significance not to be ignored.]

“Yes, Mia, Maggie will be one.”

“Potty?” (party)

“Well, sort of. It’s going to be quiet but we’ll celebrate.”

“But we have hats. And cake. And Candles, yes?!”

“Do hats, candles and cake make a party, Mia?”

“Yes. Potty… I eat cake!”

And so, this Friday if you stop by our house you will find our little family eating cake and wearing party hats. Hurray!