Last night was Julia's parent/teacher conference. It was wonderful to hear such nice things about my little girl. Her teacher told us we were so lucky to have such a special little girl. Her student teacher said she was such a good student and how she's a great kid.
We played at the park for an hour after the conference and then Dan and I took her out for dinner in celebration. I love days like that!
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
June 23
It looks like Julia will be in school until at least June 23. WOW. That just seems so late to me. The next week is the 4th of JULY!!!
WOW.
WOW.
Monday, April 07, 2008
Memories...
This weekend was a big weekend for me. I've been slowly letting go of my "baby" days and trying to take a step into the next stage of life. I'm done having babies, it's time to raise the babies.
We have been selling off the vestiges of that life on craigslist. One piece at a time. We've donated many items and have saved some to make a buck. Each time I give one away, it stings a little. Then I do a little dance at the extra space in my storage closet. It's almost all gone.
This weekend though, was clothing purge time. This was hard for me. The true meaning of bittersweet. It was really hard. I could vividly remember each daughter in various pieces of clothing. I could still smell that baby smell, and those memories that have been slowly slipping away came rushing back. Holding tiny dresses, little onesies and cozy sleepers, I felt like I had my babies back for a brief moment.
I was incredibly contemplative during this time. Do I want another baby? The answer was an overwhelming yes. But not for the right reasons. I feel done with my girls. I love them and their dynamic and watching them grow. For me, it's what I want. I feel done. Yet this tiny little piece of me holds on to the baby fantasy. You know, like those moments when they are fresh from their bath and smell just like heaven. You KNOW that's what heaven smells like. The moments where they are asleep and are so cozy their hair clings to their face. The way it feels to just hold or sleep with a sleeping baby. The looking at every part of their body and feeling the true meaning of miraculous.
I want that. I want it again, and I want it for the rest of my life. I want to immediately go and have my little one sleeping in my arms. I want to freeze that time. Even though I love watching them grow and see the little girls they are turning into, part of me longs for that baby. At some point, the reality of what having a baby is really like crashes in on me. It wasn't all rosy and perfect, but it's easy to cling to those memories.
I really think I'm done. I like have older girls and I look forward to the road ahead. As I was putting these clothes in the bags to leave my house, I realized something I wasn't cognizant of before. I was angry. I felt cheated.
I know. I was given a gift, and I love that gift. But I never was able to put into words how I felt, about Emma. It dawned on me I felt cheated. She was supposed to be my last baby. She was supposed to be the rosy perfection. Instead, I had a baby in pain who made a year of my life disappear. I realized in that moment that I had gotten what I unconsciously wished for. for it to be over. I wanted the time to fly so that she would get older, and in turn, better. She would stop being in pain, get a grip and our life would be easier again. The screaming and my depression robbed me of being able to enjoy my last little one the way I wanted to. I just wanted that time to fly. It did.
I was trying to share this with Dan. He sat patiently listening to the babble that sounds remarkably like the babble here (but with even more 0f a whiny sound, and probably much, much longer). I finally said, "Dan, I feel like I didn't get to enjoy my baby. I should have done it better, I should have enjoyed her more. She's my last baby and I wished it away."
His reply, "well, she wasn't really a baby per se, more like an angry little dwarf"
Nice.
We have been selling off the vestiges of that life on craigslist. One piece at a time. We've donated many items and have saved some to make a buck. Each time I give one away, it stings a little. Then I do a little dance at the extra space in my storage closet. It's almost all gone.
This weekend though, was clothing purge time. This was hard for me. The true meaning of bittersweet. It was really hard. I could vividly remember each daughter in various pieces of clothing. I could still smell that baby smell, and those memories that have been slowly slipping away came rushing back. Holding tiny dresses, little onesies and cozy sleepers, I felt like I had my babies back for a brief moment.
I was incredibly contemplative during this time. Do I want another baby? The answer was an overwhelming yes. But not for the right reasons. I feel done with my girls. I love them and their dynamic and watching them grow. For me, it's what I want. I feel done. Yet this tiny little piece of me holds on to the baby fantasy. You know, like those moments when they are fresh from their bath and smell just like heaven. You KNOW that's what heaven smells like. The moments where they are asleep and are so cozy their hair clings to their face. The way it feels to just hold or sleep with a sleeping baby. The looking at every part of their body and feeling the true meaning of miraculous.
I want that. I want it again, and I want it for the rest of my life. I want to immediately go and have my little one sleeping in my arms. I want to freeze that time. Even though I love watching them grow and see the little girls they are turning into, part of me longs for that baby. At some point, the reality of what having a baby is really like crashes in on me. It wasn't all rosy and perfect, but it's easy to cling to those memories.
I really think I'm done. I like have older girls and I look forward to the road ahead. As I was putting these clothes in the bags to leave my house, I realized something I wasn't cognizant of before. I was angry. I felt cheated.
I know. I was given a gift, and I love that gift. But I never was able to put into words how I felt, about Emma. It dawned on me I felt cheated. She was supposed to be my last baby. She was supposed to be the rosy perfection. Instead, I had a baby in pain who made a year of my life disappear. I realized in that moment that I had gotten what I unconsciously wished for. for it to be over. I wanted the time to fly so that she would get older, and in turn, better. She would stop being in pain, get a grip and our life would be easier again. The screaming and my depression robbed me of being able to enjoy my last little one the way I wanted to. I just wanted that time to fly. It did.
I was trying to share this with Dan. He sat patiently listening to the babble that sounds remarkably like the babble here (but with even more 0f a whiny sound, and probably much, much longer). I finally said, "Dan, I feel like I didn't get to enjoy my baby. I should have done it better, I should have enjoyed her more. She's my last baby and I wished it away."
His reply, "well, she wasn't really a baby per se, more like an angry little dwarf"
Nice.
Friday, April 04, 2008
It's Friday
I sit here in my office. There is silence in the living room which means that my children have either bitten each others heads off like the gerbils of my childhood, or they are actually playing together. Quietly. (Ok, I hear some discussion so I guess their heads are intact)
It's a gray day, which I don't mind so much now that they are few and far between. I can still see the piles of white snow in the forest behind the house, but dotted with the brown remnants of last years fertility. The trees are covered in clingy, fuzzy moss and I haven't found evidence of the new buds for that renewal of life, but I have faith they are waiting to burst out, and very soon.
It seems all too soon it happens, but the sun sets a little earlier, and the air becomes brisk and the first leaf begins to turn. To me it's a sign to really embrace the time that's left and prepare for what lies ahead. I love Autumn and the scents and feel of that time. Mixed in that excitement of ghosts and goblins and pumpkins and gourds is the anticipation of that first fall of snow.
This transition between Winter and Spring (also called Mud Season) is something I have dearly missed over the last 10 years. I may have had days of beautiful weather in a row, for nearly months at a time, because sometimes in Arizona you are lucky enough to have those perfect days. I find though that there is something invigorating and inherantly necessary to my being to live through the seasons at full strength. The brisk days of Winter with an early start to clear your car of snow and ice, makes me truly appreciate these first small signs of Spring. There is something to be said for the awakening, the energy that really does come with the last traces of snow and the first green of life. It's not called "Spring Fever" for nothing.
I'm happy to be in a place in my life where I can understand and appreciate the joy that lies in the struggles of life. Sometimes it is so hard. The snow just piles up and it seems endless. For me though, in the coldest part of Winter, when you emerge from your warm home and plunge into the cold, there is something that happens. After a snowfall everything is covered in white, and it's as if the flaws around you are camoflauged and for just a moment it's beautiful. I have always been mesmerized by how quiet the world seems right after a significant snow. It's as if the snow dampens the noise around me and you can understand the meaning of silence. It can be hard to find those moments soemtimes, other times it's seemingly impossible.
It's the survival of these things that makes me strong. The jubilation of survival that gives me appreciation for the less struggling times. Sometimes Winter seems too long and Spring just too far, but that glimmer of hope, that promise of budding leaves that carries us through. Victorously we are able to really soak up that warm sun when it comes.
It's a gray day, which I don't mind so much now that they are few and far between. I can still see the piles of white snow in the forest behind the house, but dotted with the brown remnants of last years fertility. The trees are covered in clingy, fuzzy moss and I haven't found evidence of the new buds for that renewal of life, but I have faith they are waiting to burst out, and very soon.
It seems all too soon it happens, but the sun sets a little earlier, and the air becomes brisk and the first leaf begins to turn. To me it's a sign to really embrace the time that's left and prepare for what lies ahead. I love Autumn and the scents and feel of that time. Mixed in that excitement of ghosts and goblins and pumpkins and gourds is the anticipation of that first fall of snow.
This transition between Winter and Spring (also called Mud Season) is something I have dearly missed over the last 10 years. I may have had days of beautiful weather in a row, for nearly months at a time, because sometimes in Arizona you are lucky enough to have those perfect days. I find though that there is something invigorating and inherantly necessary to my being to live through the seasons at full strength. The brisk days of Winter with an early start to clear your car of snow and ice, makes me truly appreciate these first small signs of Spring. There is something to be said for the awakening, the energy that really does come with the last traces of snow and the first green of life. It's not called "Spring Fever" for nothing.
I'm happy to be in a place in my life where I can understand and appreciate the joy that lies in the struggles of life. Sometimes it is so hard. The snow just piles up and it seems endless. For me though, in the coldest part of Winter, when you emerge from your warm home and plunge into the cold, there is something that happens. After a snowfall everything is covered in white, and it's as if the flaws around you are camoflauged and for just a moment it's beautiful. I have always been mesmerized by how quiet the world seems right after a significant snow. It's as if the snow dampens the noise around me and you can understand the meaning of silence. It can be hard to find those moments soemtimes, other times it's seemingly impossible.
It's the survival of these things that makes me strong. The jubilation of survival that gives me appreciation for the less struggling times. Sometimes Winter seems too long and Spring just too far, but that glimmer of hope, that promise of budding leaves that carries us through. Victorously we are able to really soak up that warm sun when it comes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)