A Different World

It's been a very long time since I've posted. Every time I brought up the last post, I suddenly lost the words. The last blog was about finding out our baby's gender, and all the chaos that preceded it. It was about the last day my mother was ever in my house. The last full day she was alive outside a hospital. I look back at it and must admit, I was frustrated, worried, harried, and scared. I have looked back on that day with regret - I should have been more attentive to my mother and no so concerned with getting to the doctor's office on time. I should have not been consumed with the ultrasound and the baby's umbilical cord that day. I have not liked to think about that day or look at that post.

There have been many wonderful things I could have written about: the wonderful things our boys have said and done, the birth of our daughter, tall tales I've heard, etc. But, the primary audience isn't around to read them any more. Mother used to read each entry and print it out and keep it in a notebook. She loved her grandsons more than anything - even more than Kentucky basketball - and that my friends, is a lot! She really wanted a granddaughter. Now, I wouldn't tell the boys this, but she was hoping either one of them had been a girl. So, that day, when we found out little #3 was a girl, I was so excited to tell her. I knew she would be thrilled. The only problem was that she was too ill to really process it that day. She went on home to Harlan, she was admitted to the hospital, and there for a couple of days, she was herself. One of the last things she was able to say to me was, "I can't wait to see that baby. Oh I hope she looks like you."

I often tell Arabella, "Oh your Mimi would have loved to see you smile." One time, Carter was next to me and he said, "Well, I guess, we will all die someday and then, uh...." I saw tears filling his eyes and I said with a smile "We'll go to heave and see Mimi again!" He smiled and agreed. Sporadically, Will would ask "Where is Mimi? Why doesn't she live with Papa any more? Are we going to go see her at the hospital?" I explained that she had gone to heaven to live with Jesus and we'd see here there some day. It took him a few times to understand he wouldn't see Mimi again until then. I didn't mind him asking; I was glad he remembered her.

Well, just yesterday, Will asked his daddy with a giggle, "Do you remember when Mimi made it rain in the living room?!" Nathan laughed along with him and they agreed that was "crazy!" I knew it was time for me to stop worrying about that day and regretting it. Move forward because Mother would have. I don't know how much of my life my mother knows about up there in heaven. I'm relatively sure they don't have access to the internet. But, I'm good at pretending and I'll just keep on going like my primary aundience is still logging in to find out what crazy things her grandchildren are up to today. And she'll love those pictures of Arabella and Patrick Patterson - he was her favorite.

I often find myself thinking of her as like Moses, she was shown the Promised Land and then taken to be with the Lord.

The Sons of Thunder and the Lightening Bolt?

It's a girl. Yep, that is what I said: IT is a GIRL. But let me go back to the beginning, that will be better.

About 4 months ago, I got this nagging feeling that I just might be pregnant. The chance really seemed pretty slim. When you know what all has to go just exactly right to actually get pregnant to begin with, it seems amazing anyone gets pregnant ever. I have friends, many friends who try for months to get pregnant, and it always seems that if I ever get lax and let opportunity knock, I'm pregnant. But I suppose we each have our crosses to bear. So, I had this nagging feeling. I kept having these rational conversations with myself - wait, can one have a ration conversation with one's self? That seems the opposite of rational, right? Anyway, I would say "you are NOT pregnant. Just relax. Everything is just normal. You don't have any particular pregnancy symptoms. You're just hysterical." I kind of thought it was because I had some oral surgery scheduled. Every time I have some dental event, I turn out to be pregnant and it turns into a big ordeal. So, I really thought I was just over-reacting to that.

I tried to keep myself busy and laughing it up with others to distract myself from the ticking clock in the back of my mind. You can take a pregnancy test in 5 days...4 days...3 days.... I was at my friend Karen's Pampered Chef party laughing it up on the outside but actually panicking on the inside. As I left her house, I knew that I had to get the test that night and take it in the morning because I had to give the Oral Surgeon 24 hours notice. I'd be taking the test early in the scheme of things, which isn't optimal, but to ease my conscience, it had to be done. I nearly hyperventilated paying for it.

The next morning I awoke after a tumultuous night of sleep. I couldn't wait any longer. I marched into the bathroom. I needed it to say negative so I could have my oral surgery and move on. I had been telling everyone it was pretty clear to us that God had only planned on us having two children. Occasionally, I wavered in the very deepest dark depths of my mind. I would think about another child kind of romantically. But after a while, I felt strongly that our time for new children was over. Maybe God wanted us to adopt...hey! There you go! So, this test had to come out negative because that's the way God was leading, right?

Two minutes later - no make that 30 seconds later the bright red lines glowing on a stick let me know where God was really leading. I'm not sure the word "shocked" is the accurate enough, but for now, it will do. I was not excited, I knew that. I felt betrayed and tricked. And guilty for not being excited and elated. And there was poor Nate awakened early by an insane wife, only to find her having a nervous breakdown simultaneously with a panic attack. He tried to soothe me but I just couldn't be reasoned with. I called the OB's office as soon as the switchboard would pick up; she laughed at my ranting about "how could this be true? these tests have to have some margin for error, right?" Seriously, she laughed. She was kind though and congratulated me which made me feel even more guilty. I didn't really feel like being congratulated but condoled. I spoke to the oral surgeon who naturally postponed the procedure. Great, my life was going to be put on hold again. I'm sure you are picking up on how selfish I am. It didn't escape me either which piled on a few more pounds of guilt. Babies are blessings, what is wrong with me?

The symptoms started falling in line - horrible nausea and paralyzing fatigue. I was pretty sure I could psychosomatically give myself symptoms, so those weren't really that convincing. I took another test just to be sure. It was still positive. I wallowed in my guilt and physical decline. Then I talked to my friend Emily. She had been in on this whole ordeal from the very beginning - and I mean from the time when I just sort of thought it could be a possibility. She didn't give me any Pollyanna sunshine "Children are a blessing" line of pep talk. Instead, she said "Well of course your not excited. I think that's pretty natural. You've had two stressful pregnancies with complications and miscarriages. And now you're pregnant again when you thought you were moving out of that phase. Sure you're scared. I'll just pray that God changes your heart and He will." At that moment, a whole world of guilt lifted off my shoulders and I realized I was scared. Pregnancy is not a condition a girl has much control over. There is really precious little you can do, most of it is happening while you go about your daily life despite you. Also at this time, I thought, "If God has allowed you to get pregnant, it is for his own good reasons. If those reasons are to have another miscarriage, okay. If it's to have another healthy baby despite some complications, okay. It's just 9 months."

That sounds spiritually strong, but I continued to worry. I've never been much of a worrier, but it's amazing what children bring out in you! I was and am continually handing this over to God, which seems redundant because as I've already pointed out, I don't' have much control over this situation in the first place.

My sons of thunder are super excited to have another baby on the way. Carter really wanted another sibling and really wanted a girl. So, in truth, I blame a lot of this on him. He tells me often he loves me but not nearly as much as he loves God, and I believe him. I think God listens to his prayers and delights in answer yes to them. Carter wanted a baby sister. Even though he thought it would probably be a boy, he would still rather it be a sister.

So, yesterday, after the a/c went out in our house, a leak in the upstairs bathroom caused a deluge to drain through the living room ceiling fan, and my mother became rather ill, I managed to make it, with my sons and husband to my OB's office for the gender revealing ultrasound. Going in, I was mostly concerned about how the baby was - brain, heart, umbilical cord, kidneys, arms, legs, hands, feet, face. The lady said everything looked good. And now the moment of truth. Except, the baby had it's hand covering the important part. She shook my belly a little to get the baby to move. And AHA! It's a girl!

Wait, what?! Nathan said "how does that tell you it's a girl?" She showed us and added "and there's no penis there - so that's a girl." Nathan asked for a percentage of assurance. She said "I never say 100% but I have two girls and they both looked just like that" pointing at the image. Carter was elated. A sister. Just what he wanted. He had talked to my belly at the beach and listened for a response; "it's a girl" he told me then.

Nathan and I sort of just took in the information, rather in shock. Like this whole pregnancy, everything is a surprise. I thought Nathan was going to be overjoyed to have a baby girl, but he really seemed to be like me; what are we going to do with a girl? What do you do with a girl? Sometimes they seem like a lot of fun but other times they seem like a lot of work.

So, once the boys went to bed after a long evening of meetings and a/c repairmen and wet/dry vacuuming, I said to Nathan "this girl might be just like Susanna. As long as I can remember her - back to when she was in 1st grade, she has always seemed to be the sweetest girl. Maybe she did "mark" this baby as they say in the mountains. Maybe she marked her with her nurturing grace and maturity?" He smiled from ear to ear. Then I smiled and said "Or MAYBE she'll be like Mia! No ballet for her - straight into basketball at VBS - always a smile on her face, friendly, wearing the red power ranger costume - leader of the pack -performing to the exit lights!" He laughed out loud and said "Yeah! Either way."

Exactly, either way.

And so it is for the mother

Nathan and I capped off Carter's first year of real school with the required Parent/Teacher conference. I remember as a child being very nervous when my parents attended these yearly events. It wasn't so much that I was afraid that my teachers would say something to get me in trouble with my parents but rather that my parents would say something to embarrass me. Especially my father. His main purpose as my father, especially in my teens, was to embarrass me at every opportunity. He was good at it, too.

Carter's was kind of different. As we sat there, our mouths dropped in wonder and our brows furrowed in confusion. His teacher told us that he was a wonderful student and a class leader. She had told us these things before, and while they were disorienting for us, we were braced for them. She went on to show us examples of his work and provide suggestions for how to keep him on track over the summer. Frankly, it sounded like three months of homework. Regardless, then she told us that when a new student entered her class and he was kind of shy and had a lisp, she knew immediately the thing to do was to put him next to Carter because Carter would take him under his wing and help him adjust. Then she kind of teared up on us and said "he was just a real blessing to have this year." Talk about awkward! My first instinct is to crack a joke because I don't like displays of emotion, but I fought it off. Here was a teacher who really loved my son and I shouldn't discard her mistiness for my own comfort. She was really the perfect teacher for Carter and he has refused to move on to 1st grade without her.

So, it makes it all the more curious to me when I, his mother who carried his huge 10 pound baby body in my belly, get this kind of treatment:
Me: Carter, what are you eating?
Carter: Uh (moving ever so slyly to hide himself from my line of sight) a...uh...fun dip.
Me: You didn't ask if you could have that and you must ask before you get it.
Carter: Well, I didn't give any to Will...
Me: Will is not allergic to those.
Carter: I know, but you know, the swine flu is going around and you don't know who might have it; I might have it. I don't want to give it to him.
He said it with the greatest sincerity. There was really no where for me to go from there since I was completely thrown.

Then, Nathan but mostly me made the mistake of trying to explain to Carter the difference between rights and privileges. He was under the idea that dessert is a right and we were trying to explain that desserts are really privileges. That is hard to explain to a young child and I figured he was not really even paying attention. Though he was asking pertinent questions. It didn't come up again.

That is until today. He and I were driving toward home and he referenced his age as 7. I corrected him - he is 6. No, no, he insists he's 7. Then he goes on a civil disobedience tirade telling me that "No one can take away my rights! I am 7! You can't take away my rights, no one can and I am SEVEN!" I sat there a slightly dumbfounded but shook my head and said "your age is a fact not a right" hoping he would not bring that small detail up to me when he figured out one cannot be 29 for so many years consecutively. Again, he protested "no one can take away my rights and I am 7." I had no idea where this was coming from nor what he was really meaning so I just said "Being 6 or 7 has nothing to do with your rights. You were born in 2003 and you are 6." My little activist piped up "I am 7! No one can take away my RIGHTS and I AM RIGHT!"

He rendered me speechless again. Carter 2, Me 0. Life will surely only get more complicated with him; he has clearly inherited his Papa Carter's gene for argumentation.

But, I shouldn't leave out our precious little angel, Will. Since his brother is exerting his strong will these days, Will has taken his place on deck and waits his turn to be the strong-willed son when Carter relinquishes the post. One day he sat sweetly curled up next to me on my bed. He reached down and pulled off his sock and stuck his foot directly in my face. Then he asked "which one goes to Target?" For a split second I didn't know what he meant, but when I saw his big toe sticking straight into the air and I began laughing so hard I couldn't speak. Finally, I grabbed his big toe and said "This little piggy went to Target...." I figure, we don't live on a farm, so that makes more sense anyway.