My People

"That she was seeing with different eyes and making the acquaintance of new conditions in herself that colored and changed her environment, she did not yet suspect." - Kate Chopin, 'The Awakening'

I know I haven't written much lately. 

To be honest, it's a good thing.  Normally means things are smooth sailing.  And I can definitely say right now that smooth sailing fits the bill.

I spent last weekend up in Baltimore with my sister from another mister.  We had a blast.  Went to dinner, talked, drank wine, stayed up late, watched tv, got brow waxes, went to the movies (which I have not done since the FIRST Sherlock Holmes---we are not movie people, for whatever reason), spent time with their friends, and most importantly, got to spend some much needed time with these two:

I haven't seen little Caroline since she was about six months old.  Which means I haven't seen Miss Abs since she was four.  It's hard to believe.  They are growing up so fast and are so much fun.  I got my fill of princesses and pink stuff to last me for a while.  A nice change from boy toys and boy shows. 

But I could not WAIT to get back to the boy stuff.  I missed them like crazy.  BT and T had a great weekend together, just hanging out.  And occasionally, I got a cute picture like this on  my phone during the weekend to let me know I was missed:

So yes, it was great.  It's a cruel shame to live so far from someone you just feel like you can't live without.  But we make do.  C & I often joke about how one day we'll move up there, or they will move down here.  But we both know it's unlikely to ever happen.  Which is fine.  That's why they make skype.  And the phone.  And facebook.  And blogs. 

I can't really give you much drama now.  Things are good right now. 

In fact, they're really just pretty great.  Life goes on, and we move with it. 

On an 'everyday' sort of note, T starts swim lessons next week, BT and I are going to see the Avett Brothers in a few weeks, and we will celebrate our fifth anniversary in April with a trip to the beach, just the two of us. 

On a more personal level, I'm learning to see my daughter in a brilliant pink sunset and not burst into tears.  I'm actually able (most of the time) to talk to someone new and tell them about the year we had without crying.  I'm learning to make decisions and place priorities, and learning to speak my mind openly in the process.  Of course, most who know me know that speaking my mind has rarely been a problem.  But I think now, I'm learning how to do it tactfully, with consideration, and with reason. 

So yes, the drama is at a minimum. Of course, there are balls in the air. There always are. But those are not for here, and not for right now. Those are for talks with parents, late night discussions between me and BT, walks with close friends, and for my circle of people.


And what wonderful people they are....

Backsplash, V-Day, and Lotsa Cake

I've been staring at the materials for my kitchen backsplash for over a month now. 

They've just been sitting there, in the corner of the kitchen, taunting me with their "nanny nanny boo boo, you can't do me me" chants. 

I have been totally paralyzed over the thought of doing this project, and in my mind thought that there was NO WAY I could do it. 

I am not a crafy gal.

I'm not one of those girls that can make a cutesy adorable giraffe from some marshmallows, pretzel sticks, and scotch tape because I saw it in my spare time on Pinterest and just thought my child would totally appreciate it.

I'm also not one of those DIY people.  I have a friend who is, and I've always thought it was so cool that she would take on these projects: from retiling her floors, to using a wet saw, and being succesful at all of it. 

But I'm not one of those people. 

First of all, my brain doesn't work like that.  It's like staring at a foreign language or reading some long math formula.  What is simple for most is literally like being stuck in the worst analytical nightmare that I can possibly imagine. 

But after we did the floors in October (or really after BT did the floors and I served as a very handy assistant, sitting on the planks as they were placed), I sort of felt a little empowered. 

"I'm doing the kitchen backsplash," I said.  I had been talking about it for three years, and I determined that NOW was absolutely the time.

But somehow, after I got the materials, the fear took over.  And I just let it sit there.

Until last Friday.  I was tired of doubting myself.  I mean really, it was kitchen backsplash. 

I took Friday off work, and worked non-stop, all day, ALL. BY. MYSELF.  I stuck the ipod in the docking station, blaring Mumford & Sons all day, and guess what?

I did it. 

Before

Before

After

After

The counters are still the hideous blue, and I'm working my magic to slowly get someone to agree to get a counter quote, but for now, I think the pretty tin at least distracts your eye from the awful blue just a little bit, and that, I will take.

So yeah, I walked around a little taller that night.  :-)

Besides that, it's been life as usual around here.  Birthday parties, Valentines Day, and lots of cuteness everywhere. 

Just tryin' out a different look at school....

T & the ladies

Ready for Valentine's Day

Bathtime

So things are just rockin' along over here.  We're headed to Mobile this weekend to see family and friends.  Hoping to take T to his first Mardi Gras Parade, but it may get rained out like last year.  We'll see. 

And next weekend is my weekend to go to Baltimore to see Cheryl.  We haven't seen each other since last May.  Can I just say....CANNOT WAIT.

Love yall. 

Mean it.

Catch-Up Time

Ok, this is a total catch-up post: on life around here, on Thomas, and on overall general good stuff. 

It's easy for me to get sucked into just writing about thoughts, feelings, experiences.  It's what I like to do, and it helps me process all the 'stuff,' but this isn't about that. 

This is about what's been going on in spite of that. 

After we said goodbye to my Grandie the week before Christmas, we had one last Christmas in Memphis at my grandparents' house.  I'm so glad we did it that way.  'One last time' sometimes really is a proper way to say goodbye.  A succesful Christmas morning was then followed by a great two days in Little Rock visiting BT's family.  And we returned home full, happy, and delighted to see our own beds: the definition of a succesful trip.

Checkin' out all the loot from Santa

Aunt Mally helping him open his pirate ship.  Thanks, Aunt Becky!

Santa PJs, Elmo Slippers, and a magna doodle on a box. 

Playin' with his new t-ball set

At Grandma & Grandpa Kelley's house in Little Rock

This is Thomas: refusing to let me take his picture.

The month of January was filled with the usuals: my birthday, playtime, T's first trip to the dentist, school, and amazement at the crazy, mild winter we've had so far.  Outside play has been a staple for us, and we've loved every minute of it. 

Playdough Time at home

Playing Outside

Just doin' a little drawin'

Cowboy Boots & a Lasso

Pat the Bunny

Thomas & Dr. Flynt at the Dentist. 

Best two smiles ever.  Even if I am a little biased.

 

And then it was February...

And February, if January is any indication, will fly by.  And all of a sudden, it'll be spring.  The flowers will bloom (if they aren't already), and we will celebrate our 5th anniversary in April, and just like that, it will have been a year.

And life, my friends, will go on. 

As it always does, like it's doing already....

Another Perspective

I've been doing alot of thinking over whether I even wanted to respond to this, but I keep thinking about it, so maybe that's my sign.

Everyone I know has been posting a link to this blog post lately. 

And everyone that posts the link talks about how relieved they are that someone actually said it: that someone articulated how they feel.

And quite frankly, this just makes me sad.

This woman has never lost a child. 

And most likely, you never have either.

Momastery (Glennon--who to be clear, I generally really enjoy and tend to agree with, as she has the life experience to back it up) talks in this post about how the thought of having to carpe diem her every day makes her panicky. 

I know not many are going to understand, but when you sit, hour by hour, second by second, in a hospital room, for days, waiting for your child to either get better or DIE, and while you know you selfishly want to take your child home, but that dying takes away their suffering, then you JUST. WON'T. GET IT. 

Now THAT is feeling panicky. 

I understand no one can really know what it's like unless you've been through it.  I understand that the thought of having a regular old day is quite mind numbing to you, but to me, NOW, I can't begin to explain to you how much I cherish those days. 

And we are even in the terrible twos. 

When I close my eyes at night, when I wake up, EVERY SINGLE DAY, I think about it.  It replays in my mind over and over again like a horror film, but one that I just HAVE to watch, because otherwise I become paralyzed in fear that I will forget her. 

And in the meantime, I am forced to continue living my life.  To continue breathing, and to go on daily, functioning, and acting like it's all just part of the process. 

This entire experience, though, did teach me one thing, and that, my friends, is to carpe diem. 

You see, now, every single second I have with my child is sacred.  The tantrums, the screams, the crayon marks on the upholstered chair, the messy faces and the dirty home.  My God took away my daughter, but through it He is teaching me, each and every day, about the SANCTITY of it all with my husband and son. 

The reverence due to the mundane. 

So you'll forgive me, sweet friends, if I choose to carpe. every. single. diem.


And I hope you do too.

Friday the 13th

'So maybe now it's time,
And maybe when I wake
They'll be there calling me "Baby"...
Maybe.' ~ Annie

Today marks the first Friday the 13th we've had since the day Kathryn was born. 

She would be eight months old today. 

There is a facebook friend of mine from college whose little boy was born on her birthday, and as strange as it sounds, I love to see pictures of that little boy, because it gives me a perfect snapshot of what she would look like and be doing if she were still with us. 

Sad, but at the same time, when you're grasping at ways to feel like you really knew your child outside of hospital alarms, sickness, and sadness, sometimes, a picture of what she could have been makes all the difference.  I know he isn't her.  But in my mind, he's a snapshot of what she would be, if she were still here. 

But she's not.  And we are moving on, living life, and growing up.  Or at least we're trying.

Did I ever tell you that on the day she was born, it was storming outside? 

Or that the NICU doctor came in the morning of the c-section to talk to me and mom about what would happen, STEP BY STEP, after Kathryn was born, and gently, firmly told us that we should all be able to know whether she would live or die by about ten or twelve days along? 

Or that my best friend, my sister soul mate, flew from Baltimore that very morning, to be there with me, to hold my hand and just HAD to be there before I went back, and before she was born...

Or that they let me take a shower that morning, the nurse on duty, along with my cousin's help (also a L&D nurse there), even though I was completely medicated beyond my mind and had IVs running all over the place?  That they made sure I was calm and not in pain, albeit with the aid of a lot of fentanyl...

And before the surgery, I had already thrown up twice, and when we went back for the surgery, I had a  panic attack.  And the head anesthesiologist sat down right by me, and told me it would be okay...

When they cut me open, before they pulled Kathryn out, there were exclamations of shock all over the OR, as FLUID. WENT. EVERYWHERE.

I even managed a joke to the one of the docs about how I hope they hadn't worn their good shoes, as they were leaping over water, POURING out of my stomach, flooding the floors, and as techs worked feverishly to mop it up and keep it contained.  

And as the fluid poured out, I made a huge gasp for breath, and said to everyone, "I can breath!"  I had no idea how bad it was until I was finally able to breath again.

And y'all, I'm SO not exaggerating.

Then, when they pulled Kathryn out, NICU staff were immediately right there to take her, and by the grace of God, my urgent, tearful pleas to see her were answered, and they lifted her up, not making a sound but one tiny squeak  gasping for air, for about two seconds, before they took her away, and the tears just flowed.

And I told BT to go, to go be with her, that I would be fine. 

So while they sewed me up, he was with our baby, our second-born child.  Our first daughter.

And when he came to see me in recovery, he had pictures on the camera to show me and Cheryl, and he said to us:

"She's perfect.  Cute as a button," with a huge proud grin on his face.

After recovery, they rolled me down to see her. 

And she was....cute as a button.  Right down to her little button nose.

The rest of the day was a medicated blur for me.  I remember lots of tears.  And I remember going down to the NICU despite the urges for me to rest and take it easy from surgery.  But really, what else is a momma to do?

So you'll forgive me if Friday the 13th will always bring back the flood of memories from this day. 

This magical, scary, overwhelming, unearthly, life-altering day.

8 months have passed, and on one hand, it feels like forever ago.  On the other, as I write it all out, I can still feel it like it's happening right now.

I think, sometimes, my friends, that it will never go away.

Birthday Party!

Thomas went to a 1st birthday party for his little friend Samuel this weekend.  It was complete with pony rides, a petting/feeding zoo, and a blow up bouncy thing.  To say he had a blast is an understatement.  Can I just say: this kid LOVES animals. 

And surprising even to me was the fact that he showed zero fear when it came to riding the pony (complete with yelling "giddyup!") and feeding the goats.  I mean that kid grabbed the food, put it in his hand, opened his palm, and fed those goats without any hesitation. 

And he did it about sixteen times. 

He couldn't get enough. 

Thomas with the bunny

I think he would have played with the bunny rabbit for hours

Feeding the Goats

More Goat Feeding

He did it about sixteen times

My growing boy....

Riding the pony

Takin' a break....

T also moved up to the 2K class at school last week.  He's now working on going potty (even though he insists to me he only wants to go at home, so we have a deal that until he goes regularly at school, the toy story underpants he wants will remain at Target), learning more letters and numbers, and counting all the way to ten! 

Hard to complain about a beautiful weekend, beautiful weather, a great party, and a great life.

Just really hard to complain.

2012

"And I'll find strength in pain

And I will change my ways

I'll know my name as it's called again"
Mumford & Sons, 'The Cave'

Really so very hard to believe it's been two entire weeks since I've visited my own blog.

But that's what happens when life gets in the way.

Since I last wrote, we went back to Memphis to celebrate one last Christmas at my grandparents' home, we went to spend time with the Little Rock part of the family, we came back home, I took the week off to clean out, clean up, and reflect, and now, it's finally not 2011 anymore.

2012. 

A new year.

Would you believe, after all the talk I had about how I was going to stay up to bid 2011 farewell, that I was asleep by 10pm on New Year's?  And I think it was intentional.  There was a sadness for me that night.  A little forlorn, a lot reflective.  As crazy as this sounds, letting 2011 go was hard.  Because as difficult as it was, I knew it well, I was familiar with 2011. 

Don't get me wrong, I wanted it gone.  And I mean GONE.  But it was like saying goodbye to an old boyfriend who, like one of my oldest friends and I used to talk about so many years ago, was like your ratty pair of jeans.  They look awful, it's past time for them to go, but there's something about them that you have a hard time letting go. 

The familiarity of the pain of the year. 

If there's anything to be said about 2011 for us, it can never be said that it wasn't consistent.

And now, a new year. 

Many new plans and dreams for us this year.  We will see, and time will tell, what plans are meant to be.  But I've learned to quit planning, and I am okay with this. 

So, instead, in unplanned form, 2012 started off with a bang: an unplanned tee tee in the potty for Mr. Thomas.  A big deal for our little family. 

A quiet, exciting little way to remind me that life does in fact go on, regardless of what the year on the calendar reads.  I needed that reminder, especially since even though it's a new year, I'm confronted with the fact that there won't be a day in my life I don't relive it over and over again in my head, and feel it over and over again in my heart.  That it didn't go away when 2011 did.

I've been walking after work this week, listening to a lot of music as I do it.  I love the feeling of that cold air slapping me in the face.  The trail I've been walking has been really calming for me.  It's something about being by myself, outside, with Mumford & Sons on repeat as I walk.  And I think it's helping.  My own little therapy session.  It's a lot cheaper, too.  And probably more productive.

So just like that, life goes on, and Thomas grows up to be a cowboy...

Happy 2012, yall. 

I totally mean it.