They say it's your birthday...

Our week-long birthday extravaganza has officially come to an end tonight. Our precious Andrew turned 7 today...In many ways, it seems like a lifetime ago.

After the difficult time we had conceiving Matthew, we decided to get a jump start with Baby #2. We knew that it would be hard having to kids fairly close in age if it went quicker than it did with Matthew, but we also didn't want to risk it taking too long after waiting too long.

What I didn't expect was losing my father that summer. And finding out I was pregnant with Andrew just a month later. Or the terrible morning sickness that sent me to the emergency room several times during the first trimester.

I also didn't think I could love my second baby the way I loved my first. I didn't know yet what a mother's heart is capable of.

When we went to the sonogram, Matthew and John high-fived each other; another member of the boys' only club. Me, my knees went a little weak. I was glad I was laying down as my mind went crazy thinking. Another boy. Another healthy baby boy.

As the delivery date neared, I worried about leaving Matthew behind for the few days I would be in the hospital. I worried about how things would go in the operating room. More importantly, I worried about how Matthew would react to this brand new little boy who was going to demand a lot of his mother.

That morning, as I prepared to go to the hospital, I hugged my first born as I eyes filled with tears: tears of joy, love, fear, hope, sadness. Because I had a mother's heart.

And when my OB/GYN wished Andrew a happy birthday as she fished him out of my womb; my heart overflowed with emotion. When I saw my precious, healthy, baby boy, I knew that I loved him as much as Matthew. I just knew how much my heart needed this new life.

My Andrew is a series of contradictions, and I love that about him. He is the sweetest thing, and has a sixth sense relating to me. He knows what to say, what to do, when I am not feeling my usual cheerful sense. He can crack me up like no other, and there is a silent understanding between us.

And, as an added bonus, he is the spitting image of my dad, who never met him.

As for my irrational fears regarding Matthew's reaction to his new brother? Completely unfounded. When he met his brother and held him for the first time (picture, if you will, a 30 month old baby holding a newborn), Andrew started to whimper. He quickly said to his brother, "Don't worry, Baby Andrew, we'll find your mommy." So lucky to have had the video camera in hand, on and recording to hear those precious words.

Andrew's toddler years were hard on all of us. Any time I would broach the subject of a third child, John would silently point to Andrew and I would retreat.

But when Andrew left behind the terrible twos AND threes, he emerged a different child. Insightful, introspective, thoughtful, kind.

Happy birthday, Andrew! Seven is lucky and we are SO lucky to have you to call our own. Thank you for helping me break out of my comfort zone. Thank you for showing me that is always an abundance of love in my heart for all of you. And most importantly, thank you for always being who you are, regardless of anyone's reaction. You are my inspiration in helping me be true to myself. Besides, it's nice to have another brown eyed person in the house...I love you, baby!

After the loving...

After the thrill of Joshua's birthday, there was today; a kind of rest between birthday celebrations in our house.

Andrew will turn 7 tomorrow, and will receive his own birthday post, thank you very much.

But after all that loving yesterday, we had a cranky "fwee" year old today. No shirt met approval, not breakfast choice was satisfactory, and the shininess of three began to very quickly fade this morning. Too much excitement and cake does not make a happy child.

But last night, after everyone was corralled to bed, Joshua came out, in his hand me down pajamas, and laid out on the couch. I quickly went to get a shower myself and get my pajamas on so that I could snuggle with him on the couch.

By the time I got out, he was sound asleep, those beautiful lashes to perfectly curled on those luscious cheeks that are slightly tanned from the sun's brief appearance during our Beach weekend. My heart melted.

This mother held her so big baby boy last night. She tried to accommodate that changing toddler body, with long, strong, sprouting legs and arms, and nestled that sweet head on her chest. Feeling the warmth of his body as she held him tight; knowing that soon, the quickly changing physical attributes of this child will make this very act impossible.

After the loving of a birthday, there is the everyday. The everyday holds its own gifts; the gift of the extraordinary ordinary. It is better than the birthday cake bloat and hangover. It is better than all the birthday gifts that your child can physically open.

It is better because it is 364 days of the best loving there is...the everyday, worm your way into your heart and soul, take your breath away loving...

And there is NOTHING better than that.

The day our family was made complete...

Today, my youngest little love turns three. I cannot imagine that so much time has passed. I am so relieved that we have broken the two year curse of bad stuff on his birthday. I am overjoyed at his very existence.

The truly amazing thing to me is that Matthew was not even this age when Andrew was born. And now, my youngest is truly awake to the world around him; able to verbalize his likes and dislikes, his excitement and his experiences. He is truly awe inspiring.

Joshua was born on Good Friday. I spent the day in labor and cleaning out the boys' closet. I did not bother to call the doctor until I had a good 4 hours of labor under my belt. I was scheduled for my cesarean on the following Wednesday, but he would not wait. Perhaps he sensed that Mama was over being pregnant for the third time and was so anxious to meet him. After a shower for myself , Hubby and the two older boys, we were off to the hospital, ready to rock and roll. I was ready for everything, except the spinal...not so much fun. But the moment I saw him over the blue surgical sheet, I fell in love, hard. And apparently, so did he. His little hand held on to that blue surgical sheet as the doctor held him up for us to behold and my beloved OB/GYN almost dropped him back inside the womb!

As for the yearly curse on his birthday, it started on his first birthday. He got the chicken pox. He was COVERED! My niece was just a few weeks old. He was quarantined. Then Matthew got them. And I prayed to the heavens and all the saints that I would be spared Andrew's contraction of the pox. Blessedly, God took pity on me and decided two with the pox was enough for one mother.

Last year, he fell on his front teeth three days before his second birthday at the barber shop and ended up in the emergency room. My sister's second baby shower was the following day. We were leaving for Disney the day after that. We ended up searching for a pediatric dentist, getting an emergency appointment for x-rays and then heading for Disney, all on his birthday.

With our track record, I was more than a little nervous this year. A few weeks ago, I had every intention of wrapping him up in bubble wrap for the next week until his birthday passed. I said many a little prayer and held my breath. All day today, I have glanced at my cell phone, wondering when the phone call from school would come. Again, we lucked out. After I picked him up from school, we went to the supermarket and picked out the cutest birthday cake ever, a little frog, ready to pounce on good times.

You see, for someone like me, these three boys are walking miracles. And Joshua, the greatest miracle of all. No fertility drugs to conceive him. No neurological disorders in spite of delayed gross motor skill development. No speech issues despite a lapse in speech development due to improvement in gross motor skill development. No brain tumor in spite of numerous photographs clearly showing white spots in his eyes.

Three years and many prayers answered later, I feel as though I can exhale just a bit. I understand how precious life is, what a gift to behold each day is. This gift is not wasted on me.

Three years ago tonight, our family was made complete. I am grateful that my son was born into our family, that he helped complete this labor of love his father and I started. Because, I cannot imagine what our lives would be like if not for him; his joyous, infectious smile and laughter, his running commentary, those big, expressive hazel eyes that could melt the polar caps.

To my Joshua, you are a beautiful reminder of God's love. You have made me look inside myself to become the mother you deserve to have. I love you with all my heart.

It's never enough...

Today is the last day of Spring Break. Tomorrow, we head back to the rat race of the last nine weeks of school. The promise of sunny, lazy days filled with fun and relaxation is over, and the new light at the end of the tunnel beckons...

But somehow, the week off has done nothing to offer this weary body some rest. I feel as though I have been trudging along. No amount of vitamin supplements or rest is ever enough for me to feel as though I can keep up.

There is a simple explanation for this. I am a mother. Of three boys.

I live a full life. I am constantly pulled into a zillion directions.

And I am tired. All the time.

There is not much I miss from my old life, the one I had before the kids. The thing I miss the most is sleep.

Rich, intoxicating sleep. The kind that would envelope me on late Friday afternoons, linger through late Sunday mornings. With no one to have to care for, I could give in to it, with wild abandon.

These days, even when I am off from school, there is no wild abandon. There is no getting enough.

I find it so ironic that now, when I need it the most, I cannot have it. Not the way I need it.

Sure, like an addict looking for their next hit, I might take a cat nap by my in law's pool. Only to be awakened by a blast of water from a super soaker water gun.

I might be able to sneak off to sleep an hour early. But the littlest love might wander into my slumber nest, sticking me the rest of the night with his elbows and knees.

So, it is another week. The start of another grading period. So much that needs to be done, so much to divert my attention from the things I would like to be able to do.

Nine weeks from freedom. Nine weeks from being able to stay up late and wake up later. Nine weeks from planning endless summer days with my guys.

Because no matter how much I try to cram into our Spring Break, it is never enough to see my boys laugh with delight, growing strong and tall in the South Florida sun.

Not enough time...

Have you ever thought that there is never enough time to be with the ones that you love the most? That there are days when you would like to just stop time; linger in the moment that you are in, with those you make you feel the most whole you could ever be?

Today, when I was with my sons, I wanted to stop time. I did not want them to age another second. I wanted to hold on to them, just as they were at that particular moment.

It's not that we were doing anything particularly special when the urge seized me. Just an ordinary day, running errands in the morning, doing normal stuff. But there was something about that moment; the three of them in such perfection, such sweetness, that I could have been lost in that moment forever.

Later on during the day, I cleaned out clothes that no longer fit the boys. As I discarded items that had been handed down the line, my heart ached. I remembered buying the jacket that Matthew wore to the hospital when we brought home Andrew from the hospital. And now, Joshua has outgrown it. I literally caught my breath. As tears formed I thought, "Has that much time really passed?"

It's is very easy to be caught in the day to day reality. In that reality, we really don't see the passage of time. It's when we are doing something as routine as clearing out outgrown clothing, especially those that have been passed down from sibling to sibling, that the reality grips us.

Tonight, we skipped Good Friday services, much like the year Joshua was born, since it is kind of difficult to be in the operating room having a cesarean section and hearing the Good News at the same time. But as I sat and read the Gospel of Matthew to my sons, I took a mental picture of my greatest loves. I tried to memorize, as much as I could, every expression, every detail that I could absorb to hold on to today. To this moment. To my boys.

And my heart was full. I cannot stop the hands of time. It would deprive me of other magnificent moments with these exceptional people. It would stop them from becoming the people that they are destined to be.

And truly, I cannot wait to see how their stories develop. What they will decide to do with their lives, who they will be most like, how their interests will grow and blossom.

And even though I cannot make time stop, in my heart, I try to slow it down some. To savor the moments that bubble into beautiful memories; relish in the moments when their love for John and I overshadow whatever worry we may have in tomorrow.

Because there is never enough time.

Wishing each of you a joyous Easter!

April 2, 2010 Friday Follow: A Celebration of Followers

To everything there is a season...and a time for every purpose under heaven

With Lent almost officially over and Easter quickly approaching, I have been giving a lot of thought to changes. As a Catholic, Lent is an important season of reflection. Of looking within ourselves, finding things within our lives and selves that we should journey towards remedying.

While traditionally Catholics give up something during Lent as a sign of self sacrifice, I decided this year that I was going to attempt to rediscover my purpose under heaven. Quite a lofty goal, but one that can be terrifying, especially to someone who has always played by the "rules."

As a child, I did what I was told, never really questioning, just accepting. As an adolescent, I did not rebel. There was no dark Goth phase. I was a "good" girl. I earned good grades, did the right things, was responsible, made safe choices. I was a coward.

I have been the image that was reflected of me; living in the shadow of someone else's preconception of who I should be, at any given moment of my life, until I got married. Because when I took that step into adulthood, I felt the courage and support to really begin my own journey with a loving spouse.

I began to take risks, safe ones, but risks nonetheless. I learned to listen to my inner voice, the one that belonged to me. And blessedly, my husband was supportive. If I wanted to continue to teach at the poor, immigrant school, then that's what I should do. You want to go to Graduate School, go.

But I did not really find my voice until I became a mother. The lioness was unleashed.

It is funny, how when we are children, we want to be older. We want to be able to do what we want, when we want, and how we want. As adults, we often think back to "better" days, when we were younger, had less responsibility.

And if we find ourselves in this holding pattern; yearning for tomorrow and holding on to yesterday, we rarely live in the present.

John Lennon sang of "life is what happens when you are busy making other plans." For a lot of people, this is true. We find ourselves in a monotony of daily life, trying to escape it for a few days or a week break, only to go back to it and make more plans for the next "break."

For me, I don't think back and yearn. I think about my journey. What my season is...what my purpose is. And I think that I could not be the person I am today without all the experiences that have brought me to this moment.

The season of Spring brings life back into the Earth. It is no small coincidence that Christians celebrate Easter at such a powerful time of year. The Earth is coming back from the death of winter. We shed our coats, our extra layers, the ones that confine us. Jews celebrate Passover, symbolizing their Exodus out of Egypt, freeing them from slavery.

And right now, my purpose is to free myself of those things that keep me from being the person I was meant to be. The anxiety, the self doubt, the questions, the history that keeps me enslaved, preventing me from living in the present, in this season. Just as the Earth comes back to life, I am beginning to come out of my cocoon, morphing into the person that was always there, waiting.

So, yes, I still make plans. I remember our family's history and wonderful memories so far, but I don't not hide in their shadow anymore.

I do not let other's perceptions of me shape me into someone I cannot and do not desire to be. I am who I am, take it or leave it.

Because who I am isn't too bad. In fact, I am a work in progress, as is everyone else.

In this season, forgiveness gives us freedom. We forgive others; sometimes all too quickly, sometimes for all the wrong reasons. But do we ever forgive ourselves for the wrongs we do to ourselves? For the unintentional wrongs to the ones we love? Do we free ourselves to live as we should; free of the things that imprison us within our own souls?

Because sometimes, absolution does not necessarily come inside a confessional. It comes from within ourselves. It is a gift that we give to ourselves.

As Lent comes to it's symbolic end this weekend, I think back to my Lenten offering this year. I wonder if I have made any progress. In some ways I have. I let go of the things I cannot change. I don't beat myself up for making mistakes, I find it counterproductive.

Instead, I am trying to enjoy the life I am living between the "big" plans. Definitely a time to embrace. Turn, turn, turn.