Of character clothing and dandelions.

When Becks was a baby, I was fairly adamant that he was not going to wear character clothing.  No super heroes.  Nothing seen on The Disney Channel.  And definitely not anything cartoon related.  Polo and Baby Gap were more my style.  Even if they were thrifted.  

Then he fell in love with The Avengers, and who was I to decide he couldn't wear an Iron Man shirt?  I would be denying him of his passion.  His God-given right as a little boy.  Right up there with being dirty and having skinned knees.

 Now that he's almost six (WHAT?!) and I've matured in my parenting past the point of caring what he wears, in exchange for caring more that he has nice manners and takes a shower a few times a week, he can pretty much wear what he wants.  Character clothing or otherwise.

But, today, in a fashion statement only Becks could make, he came downstairs wearing this:

That would be a bomber jacket, sports shorts, snow boots and an oversized backpack.  #winning

You know I'm going to have to take a picture of that, I said to him, giving him the once over.  

His response: Yes, m'am.  In the sweetest voice.  

Sure, it makes a great picture - but it epitomizes his personality, carefree spirit, and childhood innocence.  Quite frankly, he rocks it.

He went outside and returned moments later with his hands behind his back.

Close your eyes, mom.

I obliged.

Hold out your hand.

I did.

First dandelion of the season.  I'll be ordered to put a lot of these in small glass vases over the next several months.  You can never have too many.  Even from a kid that wears character clothing and bomber jackets in the spring.  

I love you, Beck Man.  

To be human again.

We, as parents, have to don the occasional Super Hero Cape.  Some would argue that we wear our capes on a daily basis, as we pack lunches, kiss boo boos, and cheer from the sidelines.  And, I would agree.  To some extent.  But, let me tell you, I am ecstatic to shed mine in exchange for my bathrobe and a cup of coffee.  To hang it up right next to our five month hospital stay.  To tuck it away in the back of the drawer and leave it there for a good long while, worn and ragged from months of use.  

Here's a legit Super Hero.  He wears his cape, er, shell, by choice.  

On that regular, old Monday morning in November, no one told me that I would be performing Super Hero duties for the next five months.  That, in reflecting, I would wonder how bills got paid, how we didn't die of starvation from lack of grocery shopping, or how we managed to function on little sleep, lots of stress, and an overwhelming love for our son and daughter.  Hard to believe menial tasks like that are considered Super Human, but they really seem quite monumental when much of your mind strength is devoted to considering sickness, life support, and sometimes even death, on a daily basis.  

So, I'm feeling human again. 

My house is messy.  There are Legos everywhere.  Sometimes diapers.  Mounds of laundry.  A whole room devoted to medical supplies.  There are IV bags in my refrigerator and an IV pole we tote around the house.  We had a whole dinner consisting of cheesy bread one night, though I did insist Becks have a fruit cup and some yogurt, too.  There is a half-eaten lunch plate still taking residence on the kitchen table.  Yet, baby life is crazy and good.  

And, I get to drink coffee in my bathrobe.   Not my Super Hero Cape.  

I kinda like it.  Not even kinda.  I REALLY like it. 

A New Season.

I know it's been a long while.

And, there's plenty of catching up to do.

But tonight, I sit perplexed by the fact that next week is April.  In my mind, Christmas was just last week.  Right?

I know I'm wrong.  I know the calendar will flip, and March will tiptoe quietly out of 2014, waving goodbye in a swirl of snow and sunshine.  Maybe not snow.  Sunshine would be better.  You just can't trust that Polar Vortex, though.

Something about the changing season makes me a little emotional.  A lot emotional, actually.

Maybe it's those dang pseudo-pregnancy hormones, escaping at last, after festering in the interim of hospital life as I awaited the day I would actually bring my baby home.  There's been plenty of tears, cried in joy and in pain, but the tears I feel tonight don't belong to either of those emotions.

Transition Tears, maybe?  The kind of tears you cry when your life is at the crux of Old Life and New Life.  Bidding farewell to what you've known and what you've become comfortable with, in exchange for something new and undiscovered.  Uncharted territory.

In our case, it's living our life with a medically fragile child.  Tubes and pumps and IVs and doctors appointments.  Leaving the confines of the safe hospital where our people are.  Our People being the medical staff that we've come to know, love, and trust with our daughter over the past five months.

FIVE MONTHS.

Which brings me back to the calendar and seasons changing and my Transitional Tears.

We made the ultimate transition just today - bringing our daughter home.

Tonight, she is asleep in the pack-n-play right next to me.  It will be the first night she's actually slept, peacefully in her home, uninterrupted every four hours by hospital staff checking vitals, refilling her feeds, clearing her pumps.  That's not to say that tonight will be restful.  For any of us.

There's the churn of her feeding pump.  (Doesn't bother her, kind of annoying to me.)  Rainwater flowing on the noisemaker.  (I figure that silence would be too drastic a change from her busy hospital room.)  The beep of her pump at four hour intervals asking for a refill.  (Just like getting up with any other newborn, right?)

I remember those early days with Beckham, waking every three hours to nurse, feeling like morning was days away.  Turning on the TV just to have the company of whatever random salesperson happened to be on an infomercial, pitching something I could own in three easy payments of $39.99.

There were Transitional Tears then, too.  So, I feel a little bit more normal knowing that feeling abnormal is completely normal during a time of transition.

A new season.  A new normal.

Here we go...

11 weeks and counting.

Hi.  It's been a long time.  Summer was way busier than I anticipated.  A little too busy.

And, in a fleeting second, it was gone.  Like that.

Suddenly, we're 11 weeks from expanding our family and sharing our lives with another beautiful blessing.  He's established himself in my heart.  Growing in my heart, not my belly, as the cliched adoption quote goes.  It's true, though.

{Becks showing how big his baby brother was compared to an eggplant}

In the beginning, I had a hard time figuring out how I was going to live out the waiting process.  Because there's all those what ifs that could really keep you up at night if that's the kind of game you want to play.  It's not a game, though.  It's a miracle in it's own rite and I needed to wade through the waiting waters in my own way and on my own time.

When we were first matched, I can only describe it as looking into a photograph and seeing that blurred "bokeh" effect.  Nothing was in focus.  Was this real?  Was it happening?  It's too good to be true, but I think it's true.  She picked us?  Really???

I kept trying to look, to see what I was supposed to see months into the future.  

And...nothing.  

I couldn't see anything but fuzz.  

Then we met her.  The lovely and wonderful and selfless woman who was making the most admirable and loving decision she could make for her child.  That's when things started to take shape.  

Less fuzz.  Less bokeh. 

For a long time, I pretended that I didn't really want to buy a pair of footed jammies.  Or pick out crib bedding.  Or find the perfect name.  Because, what if?

I finally had this moment of clarity where I decided that I needed to live out this waiting period for me.  The way I wanted to live it out despite the what-ifs.  

So, as the weeks have progressed into months, I've embraced my pseudo-pregnancy with fervor.  Nesting and all.  The picture is really starting to take shape.  There's nursery furniture.  A crib.  Ordered bedding.  Onesies and bottles and bibs. Washed and ready hand-me-down blankets from Becks' infancy.  A bring-me-home outfit.  A first pictures outfit. A stroller.  

 While there are many uncertainties and questions, I don't think I will understand God's picture until the day we meet this baby and share a sacred bond with his mother.  We'll cradle his sweet little head into our arms and admire all of his little perfections for the first time.  

I've never wanted to hold His hand tighter, as he leads me through the next several weeks, and I pray for peace and health and clarity.  For Jesus to be present every step of the way.  

74 days.

Adoption is Awesome :)

{I posted this at The Inspired Apple and forgot to post here! Oops!}

So, we have news!!!!!!!!! 

And, because many of you have written me personally with your well-wishes and have been with us in prayer throughout this journey, I am beyond thrilled to share...

On May 13th, we received a life-changing phone call - an expectant mother was making an adoption plan for her baby and had chosen us as potential parents! On Monday, we confirmed that it is a BOY! We are so excited for the amazing opportunity to be parents again...and, of course, Becks is thrilled to be a Big Bro. Please pray for the expectant mother, the baby, and our family during this exciting time <3

Truth:

Keep praying, friends!!!!!

XXOO

Of lily pads and faith.

The first real day of summer started out swimmingly.  

Unfortunately, I failed to sunscreen appropriately and have one of the worst sunburns I can remember.  Ouch.

Becks has a little more independence at the pool this year.  He's taller and can swim.  He makes buddies with anyone who's carrying around a squirt gun.  Yet, I can only get through about a half a paragraph of a book before I feel the urge to check on him, or before he's calling out to me to watch him sit under the dunk bucket that pours gallons of water onto waiting little heads.  He loves it.  

I remember going to the pool with my mom and sisters when we were young, swigging from yellow Hi-C juice boxes and munching on lunch during adult swim.  It's funny how some things never change.  How a different generation is now seated in the lounger, goggles secured, swigging from a juice box, munching on lunch, and waiting for the whistle to signal all can swim again.  

Becks has also independently mastered the lily pads.  The kids in line behind him must have incredible patience because he takes his precious time in maneuvering from pad to pad.  

So, today feels a little bit more like summer than Tuesday did.  I'm so grateful for sunshine and warm temperatures.  

I'm also grateful for this.

Because faith isn't easy.  But it is promising and full of hope.  It is bigger than I am.  And - even more comforting - is that He already knows of the things my heart desires and He knows where my faith will take me.  

Happy, happy Thursday :)

The start of summer.

I simply cannot believe there was a time in my life where I blogged multiple times a week.  Becks was small and confined and napped a whole lot.  Now, he's big and active and wears himself out by 7pm (and me!) with no nap.  By the time he's in bed, I want to do mindless activities.  Like nothing.  

One of the best parts of our new home is that it's located in an actual neighborhood.  WITH KIDS!  They're everywhere, so Becks has other little people to occupy him. It also means that the windowpanes on my door are smudged up with kid prints and my doorbell is constantly ringing.  It's kind of nice.  

If summer were a handful of dollar bills, I'd feel like I already spent quite a few on pre-planned trips and meetings and things that need to be done before August rolls around and school is back in full swing.  Just today - less than a week after closing down the building for the year - we had a professional development.  Totally the last thing I wanted to with one whole day of my summer vacation.  And, with this past weekend being a whirlwind of holiday activities, I feel like summer hasn't  even officially begun.  

Maybe tomorrow, when I'm drinking my coffee before my sleepyhead wakes up...and B is at work...and we have absolutely nothing on the agenda...maybe then I'll feel like summer is official.  Maybe when I can prepare a nice, homemade dinner and have it on the table when B comes home...maybe then it will feel like summer.  Or maybe it will be when I'm at the pool, reading an actual paperback, and Becks is splashing away...maybe then it will feel like summer.  

Until then, I'm going to pop a readymade pizza in the oven, open a Summer Shandy and call it a day :)

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