Life Is...Surprising

  It's raining outside.  I used to think I'd be listening to jazz, sitting on the window ledge of an upper studio apartment, looking down over the streets of New York City on a gray day like this.  I even pictured playing along on my own saxophone.

   Yeah...uhhhm no.  Let's just say my life holds no semblance to the existence I envisioned while in my teens. 

  I do have Michael Buble's station playing on Pandora...so I shouldn't say NO semblance right?  It is kinda jazzy.  But as for New York City- well,  I'm in the neighboring state of Pennsylvania sitting in my upper story (yet another semblance), wooden office, looking out over fallen leaves that have covered my husband's ladders.  Those tools sit next to the well-loved lacrosse portion of the yard which is the backdrop to our summer's shining star- the pool.   Of course there's the swingset with attatched platform/slide that has seen better days...and by that I mean it used to be the summer's shining star.  The kids are getting older and we have more pick-up football games than we do calls for Mommy to "come push me!"  We can't forget Millie's (our choc lab) kennel.  It's kitty-corner to the fire pit that Millie sneaks wood from to chew when she thinks we're not looking.  It's the same wood she sneaks within plain view, then takes off to the lax area to hide behind the net...it's a net Millie, we can see you!

  It's raining outside...perhaps the same condensation passed over NYC hours ago.  Crazy to think of a life so foreign to my current days.  I've never even held a saxophone to my lips.  I'll hint at my age and admit that fantasy's inspiration was influenced by Kenny G.  Who didn't love Silhouette?  flashback to Silhouette (you're welcome).  And yet, I am happy.  I am content.  I look at the leaves that cover the yard where my children's youth has played out.  I see the trees that were full of vibrant green buds just this past spring.  They have released their blooms that whispered in summer's breeze and stand disrobed, yet sturdy, guarding our lawn carpeted in the golden offerings from these sentinels.  I'm reminded of another childhood favorite that holds more meaning now then ever... Shel Silverstein's The Giving Tree.  No kidding, this book sits on the edge of my desk...next to the window I look out.  Perhaps it's been waiting for this rainy day to remind me how good I've got it.  And how life is not about the destination but the journey. 

  We parents once held the bud of youth in our dreams of how life would be.  We now have the opportunity to lay down our golden glory for our children to pile up and play in.  They can cover themselves and feel secure in our commitment to share this journey with them.  Perhaps they will provide us with their own little buds to bring rejuvenation in our golden years.  It comes full circle.  I wouldn't trade a single, crazy, hectic moment nor a neck hugging, sloppy kiss on the cheek embrace for a smooth jazz note lilting what could have been.  We make our own music here with broom stick air guitars and ladles for microphones. These are the days creating the memories of tomorrow. I imagine when I am an old woman I will look out at the trees and smile, remembering my children hanging from the branches and lobbing footballs under their leaves.
 
   Then again, I've been surprised before...perhaps I will be harnessed to my eldest, sharing a tandem skydive.  I wouldn't put it passed my second to have me deep sea fishing or my third to share her hotel amenities while she attends a medical conference on the Big Island.  My fourth just may get me to New York for a Broadway play the night after my fifth reserved a front row seat so I could watch the mad drumming skills he led the band with.  I will need some quiet time so I suppose I would prefer the box seat offered to watch my sixth in the Superbowl.  I will be tired so I will gladly return to my husband who kept the home fires burning at our sweet seventh's home-- where we will live.  ;)

 

Happy Birth-ing Day Mom!

It's my birthday...Yay to the past 43 years I've been on this Earth! 

It's my BIRTH day... an ode to the mother who pushed through the contractions, pain, and terrific storm that blew into the Cleveland area during the hours of my arrival to greet, kiss, and welcome her fifth born child.

  Mom...Mommy...Mother...Mama... you have the gift of Joy that enables you to see Faith when others see failure.  You are the mother of twelve children and you cherished us as greater than any physical wealth that could have lined your pockets, adorned your neck, ears, or fingers with costly jewels.  You valued LIFE above all the stress that could come with adding another to your table, home, or already packed station wagon... For this,  I thank you. You offered me my breath in order that I may fill my lungs with the hope of eternal life.  You fashioned my legs, hands, and feet that I may travel through this life bringing a bit of joy, sustenance, and comfort to others that I will interact with throughout my own existence.  You could have easily stopped being open to life after the first, second, third, or fourth child...and even after my own birth...yet you allowed twelve children to grow within your heart and home always knowing there was a greater plan than the thought of your own comfort.  You even gifted us with three more souls in Heaven that would pray for us to be able to one day meet them since they were to only see your womb before being called home.  How does one give thanks for something so grand as the opportunity to gaze upon stars, learn from the hardships and hilarities of a huge family, swim in oceans, lakes, and ponds, meet thousands of people from around the globe, drink in glorious sunsets, marvel at the moonlight, slink through misty gardens, dance across a flower-laden field...revel in life-changing relationships, and ultimately offer new life to this world through my own gift of motherhood.

Mom, I don't know that I can ever properly fashion the correct words to let you know I am so very grateful for your willingness to generously offer the gift of life to your fifth-born child. As your fourth daughter I know that there has always been a press on you for your time- I am in awe of your talents to bring fun to every day as I face my day-to-day mothering of my own seven children.  Thank you for the gift of my life.  Thank you for the gift of Faith.  Thank you for loving me into my adult life.  I love you Mom.  Happy Birth-ing day!    

"HOLLAAA" FOR MOMS IN PICTURES!

  Susan is back!

  Hollaaa!  --slang for Holler...which is slang for "That's what I'm talkin bout!" ...which is the old "I know, right?  All of these statements represent the whole idea of a SHOUT OUT!  And for those of you who are still utilizing your ninth grade grammar books to comprise your English vocabulary...I don't know if I can help you...(now you're thinkin' WHATEV....which used to be Whatever!  See, I'm trying to be compassionate here.) 

  In the words of my two-year-old, "Mama, I was cryin' for you!"  And in similar words of my five-year-old "Where have you been, Mama?" 

  My answer---I honestly don't know.  I think somewhere between baby number one and baby number seven I spread myself too thin but refused to let go--Thank the good Lord!  These sentiments are coming from last nights experience of looking at past photos with my ten-year-old, eight-year-old, and five-year-old.  Of course their stall tactics of happening upon their manila folders of themselves worked.  How could I possibly resist the crooning of "Oh, look how chubby I was"?  It was much more darling coming from my son viewing himself as a baby than if I were reflecting on my ample figure after giving birth to said baby.  Laughing to myself at the innocent pleasure of viewing his roly-poly arms and dimpled smiles, I began to notice how few photos held my image.  I knew full-well the lack of my full-bodied existence was intentional--on my prideful part.  But as my son held up one professional picture wherein I was lifting him up and smiling an open-mouthed grin of selfless joy while I peered into his baby face he giggled and uttered, "Aaaaaaw!" 

  That said it all.

  He was seeing his Mama hold and love him.  He did not see the roundish arms that I could clearly recall being self-conscious about during the photographic sitting.  My eight-year old's eyes scanned the photo and his grin was evidence that he was taking in every single detail as his five-year-old brother was pouting aloud, "where are my baby pictures like that?"  That's a whole other story...

  I just read another mother's article about "staying in the picture" and tears rolled down my cheeks as I related to her words and emotions about embarrassment over unkempt hair and drooled on shirts that led to a desire to stay out of pictures in favor of letting the "cuter subjects" be photographed.  How ironic to look at these photos last evening and then have this mother, unknown to me,  reach across cyber space to affirm the importance of allowing our Love to be photographed throughout the years.

  Like slang, which has the ability to morph overnight, our bodies, as mothers,  can dramatically shape-shift over the years-- perhaps this is our superhero "gift".  Superman flew, Spiderman shot web and slung himself from towering heights, and  Batman--well, he had a cool car and an awesome toolbelt (Wham!).  A mother's body can stretch to accomodate a new human life and "pillow" that young life with a soft and curvy comfort to soothe away hunger, scrapes, and hurt feelings.  I know there are other female superheros out there...though currentlyt I can only envision Wonder Woman in her tight corset and high-heeled boots..."WHATEV.."!  I didn't have a cape on in the photo when I held up my son and smiled my love into his sweetie, kissy, lubby baby face...but I did have my Mama heart pinned on my sleeve...and all was good in his world as he viewed that seven-years later.  His mama loved him then, loves him still.  I think I'll go find my daughter and kiss her in front of the camera in all my mismatched sock, frizzy-haired glory--I know, right?!?

Tiny Love

What an incredible time this has been. I have lost another baby to the sting of death…this time from within my womb. The pain was still very real. We are waiting on the D.N.A. results to learn if this child was a boy or girl and what the genetic defect was. Based on the 12 week sonogram, our midwife felt confident enough to tell Steve and I that our baby appeared to have a chromosomal defect. One that would make it incompatible with life. We were hearing this news for the second time and we were crushed. I immediately began to cry.

We were to come back within the week to repeat the sonogram and look for any changes. Those next few days seemed to drag until we were back in the doctor’s office hearing that not much had changed and actually the edema (swelling) of the baby was quite severe and perhaps even more pronounced around the head and abdomen. As the doctor conferred with the sonographer and set up an appt. in Pittsburgh we heard the whispers telling us our baby had severe edema throughout all of it’s tissue from head to rump.
We would have to wait until I was 16 weeks along to have the amniocentesis test in Pittsburgh which would confirm the actual condition our baby had.

Two weeks later I was concerned over a little bleeding and knew that I wanted to make sure our baby’s heart was beating before we made the two hour trip to Pittsburgh. Although I thought it, I wasn’t actually prepared to see my tiny one curled in my womb without a flutter in it’s chest. The sonographer gently let us know our baby was no longer living. I was surprised by the depth of emotion that sprang from somewhere deep in my heart. I was mourning this little child I had walked with for those last 16 weeks. Perhaps it was the combination of looking at the monitor screen and actually seeing such a tiny, well formed baby with it’s hands curled up by it’s head and it’s legs crossed while hearing that it no longer lived ~that cracked me somewhere deep in my core.

We were given three options. First, we could allow my body to spontaneously deliver the baby. This could take up to six weeks depending on how long ago our baby died. Second, we could go for and D and C in Pittsburgh because it was too large for our doctors here in Erie. However, it would be done in their abortion department. Thirdly, I could go into the local hospital and be given a medicine that would induce labor and I would deliver there.

I chose option three…and I wanted to do it that very afternoon. My midwife was calm as she let me know it is important to grieve the loss of this baby emotionally before letting go physically. She also let me know that once a mother knows her baby is no longer alive it can signal to her body it’s time to let the pregnancy go. I was scheduled to go to the hospital the next afternoon to be prepped for the delivery the following day. I then left to go home and grieve.

After the kids were tucked in for the night I curled up on the couch with a book. I couldn’t really get comfortable due to some mild cramping in my back. After a while I gave up and went to bed. I held my belly in the dark that night and knew this was my time to physically be with my child. I was literally wrapped around this baby. Yes, I knew I no longer communed with my child…but still it was present as I said goodbye.

I woke the next morning to the sound of my husband trying to get our eldest out the door in time for his bus and welcome our second to his day. All of a sudden there was a warm gush as I tried to move out of bed. I was so startled I hopped out and felt a second gush. I called Steve’s name several times and tried to keep my legs pressed tightly together to staunch what I believed to be a flow of blood. I thought I was hemorrhaging. The next few minutes were a whir. Steve came rushing in and closed the door. I was afraid and was crying as I told him I was bleeding. I gently tried to get changed to get to the hospital when there was another sudden gush and we both knew I had just delivered our baby. Steve called out “there’s the baby!” I just kept repeating, “Oh God, Oh God,” as he went to pick our little one off the towel on the floor. He was adamant about me not looking since we didn’t know how long our baby had been decomposing. I was crying and trying to get to him as my placenta was delivered and I heard him whisper, “it’s not gruesome at all.” There was genuine awe in his voice. I moved to look at the miniature baby he held cupped in his one palm with it’s umbilical chord still attached. We marveled at the sweet little fingers and the perfect heels on the other end of the ten tiny toes. I could see eyes and tiny ear buds…we were witnessing a beautiful revelation of one interrupted in the midst of it’s formation.

It was all so crazy and fast and the children (all seven were now awake) were huddled outside our bedroom door. Concern in their voice and impatience in their questions brought Steve out of our room while I tried to get ready to leave for the hospital without losing too much blood. The reality of this awkward unknown experience meant the baby was placed in a plastic container and wrapped in a special towel our son had sewn onto to memorialize his brother who had died two years earlier. Steve kept poking his head in the room to ask if he should show the baby to the kids. Stevie Jr. our second was adamant about wanting to see. I was torn between distraction of my physical condition and fear of scarring our children. Ultimately I figured if they want to see so badly, let them.

I was curious about their reaction…but a little afraid too. I had determined this latest child was beautiful no matter what. I also knew that children can be blunt and uncensored. I peeked around the corner of the door ready to dive back in the room to protect my vulnerable heart. I saw Steve in the midst of all but our eldest who was the only one who did not want to see this sibling. Gently he uncovered the baby and there was a collective gasp followed by a unanimous “aaaawwww.” The children began to blurt out their observances. “I can see a leg!” “Look! There are his fingers!” Our four year old peeked over Daddy’s hands and exclaimed, “he’s soooo cute!” They peppered Steve with “is it a boy or a girl?” And Steve was honest in telling them it was too early for us to know. He then said to the clustered group, “this is why we don’t believe abortion is right. This is a baby…not just a bunch of tissue in your Mommy.”

I can confidently say I think that’s a lesson they will never forget.

Though I chose not to hold the baby at that time I was given an opportunity to hold him or her later that afternoon in the quiet calm of my hospital room. The nurse had done her best to take photographs that would honor our child and there was even the tiniest bit of ink on the edge of an even tinier foot from attempted footprints at my request. We marveled at the intricacy of a 16 week formed human being cupped in the palm of my hand. Yes, we were saddened by the telltale sign of abnormality shown by the distended abdominal wall. And we trusted that this child’s Creator called him or her home when He knew it was the right time. But we also knew we were experiencing some part of wonderment that accompanies any great creation. We were viewing a miraculous sight that very few will ever have the privilege to see in the flesh.

Little one, how honored I am to have been chosen to house you as your fingers, toes, arms, and nose began to take shape. You are of my flesh and blood and that tie is no less real in death as it would be in life. I love you and long for the day when, perhaps unexpectedly, you rush up and lift me off my feet that were walking the golden streets of Heaven. The alarm of being grabbed by a stranger melts into pure delight as my heart is filled with the recognition of you. I imagine my tears will burst forth as you wrap your arms around me with the vigor of a ruddy youth. Tears of gratitude and inexpressible mirth slide down the curve of your cheek as we both begin to understand that your short life on earth has been rewarded with an eternity of joyful discovery within each others company. Lord, Your ways are far above our own!