TD, Part 4, Life at home

(Note: this post is a little behind - the pics in it are several weeks old, so Timon has grown (and is sleeping 7 hours straight at night! Yeah!)  But I still wanted to post it.  More updated pics and stories to come soon).

It was so wonderful going "home" from the hospital to my parents' house and being greeted by my mom, dad, brother, and sister-in-law.  They were all so thrilled and overjoyed to finally meet Timon.

My sweet niece, Elizabeth, took a second to warm up to the tiny bundle resting in her daddy's arms, but after staring at him quizzically for a few seconds, she touched his head gently and a huge grin spread across her face.  Welcome to the family, baby Timon!

Douglas was taking a nap when we got home, which was perfect.  When he woke up, Micah went up alone so that he could tell him that we were home before introducing him to his baby brother.  We expected uncertainty, displeasure, jealousy, something.  All we got was joy and love and preciousness.

I walked upstairs with Timon once Micah told me they were ready.  I put Timon in Micah's arms (Micah was holding Douglas already). 

The first words out of Dougie's mouth were "Mohn Nuggle," and he put his thumb in his mouth (he does this every time he intends to snuggle with something - a person, a stuffed animal, a soft blanket).  He reached out and layed his head on Timon's head for a good old fashioned Brother Snuggle. 

The next words were, "Mohn hug" followed by the biggest, sweetest bear hug you've ever seen (thumb still in his mouth). 

For several minutes this continued - in Micah's arms, on the couch, anywhere.  He just couldn't get close enough.  He just couldn't find enough ways to express his love for his baby brother who he seemed to already know.

As the days passed, we continued to expect some sign of displeasure at this new addition to our family.  It didn't come.  Of course, he gets sad at times that one of us can't pay attention to him, but to this day it hasn't been directed toward Timon.  Not that that day won't come or that it would be bad if it did, but it totally shocked us.  He shows such care and sensitivity to Timon.  We would tell him to say goodnight to Grammy and Pops and he would say "Mohn kiss" and go find his brother, nestled somewhere sleeping quietly, and give him a kiss on his head or just lay his head next to Timon's.

Even when we left my parents' house to come home, I thought Dougie would be like, "uh, this guy's great and all, but I thought he was staying here!!"  But he didn't even bat an eye.  He just pointed to Timon's car seat and said "Mohn's seat" - like he was saying, "yeah, Man, what took you so long!  We've been waiting for you to sit in this seat for what feels like forever!"

Our time in TX with the family was wonderful.

They were so welcoming and accommodating and helpful.  It was such a blessing to be with them and for them to get some time with Timon as a tiny baby.

We were greeted at home in Kansas by my sister and brother-in-law (Heather and Brian) and their two boys who were so excited to meet Timon (and see Dougie)!  They were waiting outside for us when we pulled up and Love Fest 2011 ensued.  The kids were all so excited to see each other.  They had decorated the inside of our house and had champagne waiting to be opened in celebration of this precious life entering the world and our family.

A few days later, my sweet friend Jenni threw a Sip And See party for us honoring Timon.  Heather and a couple other friends helped make it happen as well, and it was lovely.  Over 20 people came to meet Timon and welcome him.  There were champagne punch and dear friends and kids running around in the yard - it was perfect.  I, sadly, failed to take more than 2 pictures, so Timon will just have to believe me when I say that over 20 people showed up to meet him and welcome him and show him their love - because the 2 pictures I took were 1) before the party started and 2) after it was over.  Nice.  Hello, Mommy Brain - welcome.

Timon is one VERY loved little boy!!

We are settling into life with a newborn again.

It's not easy!  I think it's harder the second time in ways because you're busy with your toddler, too, and you also just don't quite have the same stamina that you once had.  We're tired.  And cranky.  Poor Douglas is like, "um, what happened to nice Mommy and Daddy?!"  But it's all good.  This time will give way to different, in some ways easier, times.  We will gradually learn how to decipher Timon's cries and how to know what he needs or wants - we will learn our new routine and our bodies will, hopefully, settle more gracefully into this season of sleepless nights and spitup-clad shoulders.  (One day, I spent half the day with spitup all over my shoulder before my mother-in-law noticed it while in the car on the way to run errands.  Meh.  What can you do?!).

See?  There, I did it.  My first poop/spitup reference.  You're welcome.

Texas was wonderful, but it is so great to be home.  This picture was taken the night we got home from Texas.  My first time reading books with our two precious boys in their room.  Douglas' choice - "Siempre te Querre" - "I'll Love you forever".

In the background is a Feeleez poster, and we love it.  Check out their site - they sell a few products, all with the intention of teaching Emotional Intelligence and helping children to understand their emotions and therefore become more empathetic little people.  At age 2 we're already looking at the fun little drawings with Douglas and saying, "do you see anyone up there who feels sad about getting hurt like you do?" or "How do you think this girl feels?"  I love it.

TD, Part 3, Nicole and Love

Nicole ended up seeing Timon several different times in the hospital.  She would text me or ask a nurse if she could see him and the nurse or I would wheel him down to her room.  She would spend some time with him and then the nurse or I would go and get him.  I will never know what took place in that room during those moments, but I am so very thankful that they got to share them.

I had a couple different conversations with Nicole in her room throughout those two days.  At one point we talked about his features and where they may have come from.  She has no idea where his dimple chin comes from.  She thinks his probable height comes from her brother and dad who are 6'4" and 6'5".  We smiled and laughed at his cute cheeks, his precious curly hair (she said her daughter's hair was similar at birth).  It felt so good to share that experience of looking at this child that we both love and discussing his preciousness.  She asked if I had seen his eyes open yet because she hadn't.

The next night (our last night in the hospital), when Timon was with her, she texted me a picture of him with his eyes open.  I wrote back, "YAY!  You're seeing his eyes open!"  She said, "Yes!  Please take care of him and keep him safe."  I promised that we would.  She said "Tell Micah to teach him the right way to be a man and respectful to women."  I teared up instantly.  I said, "He will.  He is the most respectful man I know.  He is truly an amazing man, and it's very important to him (and me) that he teach his sons how to be good men."  She said, "Ok.  I love you guys."  More tears.  I said, "We love you too, Nicole.  We are so very grateful for you and your love and courage and bravery."

I never in a million years thought she would tell us she loved us.  I had wanted to tell her that a couple different times but had chosen not to as I thought it would make her uncomfortable.  April (Douglas' birthmom) and I started telling each other that after the intensity of Douglas' birth, which we experienced together.  It is hard to explain the love that we as adoptive parents have been able to share with our sons' birth mothers.  It is very different from any love I've ever experienced.  Usually, when you love someone you know them well, you are comfortable around them.  This is someone we know very little about, and they know even less about us or our history.  It is someone with whom we share awkward moment after awkward, difficult, stressful moment.  There is nothing easy about this relationship, or comforting.  But we LOVE them.

It defies logic, really.  And it just hits you all of a sudden.  I didn't always feel love for either April or Nicole.  In fact, that sense of "wow, I really love this girl" didn't come until late in the game - either after the birth or, in Nicole's case, before the birth when my heart opened up to the truth that I wanted what was best for Timon and for her, not what I thought was best for me.  My compassion and respect for these women grew and grew.  And, ultimately, I think this kind of love is born from respect.  I witnessed what these women did, the agony and pain they went through to do what they knew was right.  And it amazes me and fills me with an incredible amount of respect for them.

I think most people (I'm pretty sure I used to feel this way) have a stigma about birthmoms.  Maybe that they are irresponsible or immature or weak - either for getting pregnant in the first place or for not being able to take care of their baby.  Even the language of "giving up your baby for adoption" shows this defeatist attitude of giving up.

Birth moms are the strongest people I have ever met - perhaps in other areas of their lives some of them might be weak and give up easily (who doesn't?), but in this experience of placing their child for adoption, entrusting them to another human being to raise and love and protect them - in this experience they are total superheros.  They are brave and resolute and strong and beautiful and courageous and heroic and selfless.

And they love these children.  Man, do they love them.

I think a lot of people mistakenly assume that birth moms don't love these babies and that's why they can do this, that somehow it shows a character flaw that they would do this.  No matter what anyone says, birth moms are bonded in ways with the child that they carried in their belly for 9 months.  Even if they are emotionally cut off and unaware, their heart doesn't lie - their body and their heart know that this love and this bond is there - and it is gut-wrenching for them to let go.

Maybe you have to be a first-hand witness to this amazing experience to really believe and know that birth moms truly and deeply love the children that they place for adoption...but it is something that I know with every ounce of my being.  I have seen it.  And seeing that and knowing that and watching these women make what is likely to be the hardest decision they will ever have to make has borne in me a profound respect unlike any I have ever felt for another human being, and a resulting love that defies all odds and looks nothing like any other love I have experienced in my life.

It amazes me beyond words that Nicole went through with this decision that she made.  She had no support, except for her friend Edith.  Her family was vehemently and vocally opposed to this decision.  I have zero doubt that she suffered immense consequences, and probably still is, from her family in the aftermath of this decision.  She was completely alone.  18 years old.  With very few resources or tools with which to deal with this experience.  And yet she did it.  She did it.  She continued to walk forward, with strength that could only come from the Spirit in her because it is superhuman.  She chose to experience immense pain and loss for the sake of this precious child whom she loves.  She chose to experience this pain in order to do what she felt in her heart was right and best for him.

And I love her for that.

And she chose us to be the parents.  And God chose us, too.  And I love them BOTH for that.

TD, Part 2, The Hospital

We arrived at the hospital around 9:15 a.m.  We found the maternity wing and the the nurse's station.  We talked to the head nurse, Melody.  I told her our names and that we were adopting a baby.  She said that Nicole was there and showed us where we could wait.  She told us that her C-section had been moved back to "11 ish" (with a chuckle that seemed to say "who knows when it will actually be?") because of an emergency C-section that morning.

We waited in two leather (ish) chairs right by a window just outside of the waiting room.  We are always drawn to natural light - it feels like life to me when we're in a sterile place like a hospital, so we were thrilled to get to spend our waiting time by this window.  It was a huge blessing that we were able to wait in our own little area instead of in the waiting room with everyone else where waiting families passed the time small-talking with each other - something that we weren't exactly in the mood for.

At one point, Nicole's friend, Edith, came out to see us (she is the friend who was with Nicole for the C-section).  She said that Nicole had wanted her to come and meet us.  She was very sweet and it was lovely to meet her.  She said Nicole wanted to see us, but not until after the C-section.  We were thrilled that she wanted to see us and that things seemed to still be on track even after the drama of the night before.

11:00 came and went.  12:00 came and went.  No word.  Looking back, the time actually went remarkably fast considering we had nothing to do but read (I brought a People magazine since I knew that my mind would be too distracted for anything but mindless reading), text message with people, and breathe.  We had no idea when we would get the news, so we didn't want to move from that place.  At one point, I put my ear phones in and listened to my Ipod (Adoption Mix 2011) to give me strength and courage...and to drown out the mind-numbing conversation about politics that was going on very loudly in the waiting room among strangers.

I figured the C-section wouldn't be at 11:00, but I assumed it would have started by 11:30 or 11:45 at the latest.  It was so strange wondering if Timon had been born and was crying or sleeping or eating somewhere in that hospital without us even knowing it.  And there were, of course, those moments when I thought, "Is this a bad sign?  Why is this taking so long?"

FINALLY, at about 1 pm, Edith came out to talk with us.  She still had her operation garb on - those white disposable pants and shirt and bonnet.  She brought a picture of Timon on her phone to show us - it was so amazing to know that he was born and to be able to see him, if even just on a cell phone!  She said Nicole would see us soon.  As we were talking to her, Melody came down the other hall toward us, motioning for us to come with her.

We left Edith and followed Melody to the nurse's station, where a tiny baby boy was resting in his little bassinet on wheels.  It was so surreal - I said, "is this him?!"...it was a strange way to see our son for the first time.  Melody's intention was to wheel Timon into a bonding room where we could sit and spend some time with him before they bathed him, etc...so there we were, with all the nurses around, seeing him for the first time while we were on the move to the bonding room.  It took Melody and the other nurse a minute to leave us alone in the room where we could finally pick him up and begin to take it all in.  We took a million pictures of both of us holding him. 

I sat in the rocker, holding him as closely as I possibly could, and sang to him.  It was all I knew to do.  I sang all the songs I could think of.  I just kept thinking, "we have no idea how long we get to be with him today, so I just have to take this in and enjoy every second and let him hear my voice."

Micah realized, as I was singing to Timon, that we were in the bereavement/bonding room where parents hold their children who are not going to make it for long.  There was a sign on the wall that said something like, "In our arms for a moment, in our hearts forever."  I couldn't help but have the fleeting thought - Please, God, don't let this be true for us.

About 15 minutes later, a nurse came in and said that Nicole wanted to see him (she hadn't seen him at all yet).  We were thrilled that she had decided to see him - we believe that it is best for her and for him and both of their healing for her to see him and have some time with him, even if just for a few minutes.  But it was of course hard to let him go.

A few minutes went by as we sat there in the room alone before Edith called me from Nicole's phone to say that Nicole wanted to see us.  Edith met us and led us to her room.  I realized within a few seconds that Nicole didn't know that we had already seen him - that in her mind she was presenting him to us for the first time.  I, very awkwardly, tried to express my excitement and awe and joy while also being authentic - I wanted her to get to experience this moment as if it were the first time I was seeing him even though it wasn't, but I also wasn't going to fake anything or lie.  After a few minutes of awkwardness and talking with her about how she was feeling etc, we told her to get some rest and asked her if she wanted us to leave him with her or to take him, and she said he could go with us.  We took him to the nurses' station where they told us it was time to bathe him and get him on a warming table to bring his temperature back up.

They assured us it would take at least a half hour, so we went as quickly as humanly possible to Chik Fil A for lunch where we inhaled some food and rushed back - if there was the chance to be with him even for a minute, we were not going to miss it!  It took a while longer than anticipated for him to be ready to leave the nursery, so we stood there, just like in the movies, with faces pressed against the glass, watching our baby boy as he laid under the warming light and as the nurse dressed him.

After what seemed like forever, Melody led us and Timon (whose bed on wheels was super loud, so you could hear us coming from a mile away) to a room where we would be able to stay for the duration of the two days.  We were so grateful to be able to stay there at the hospital with him.  The room was in a hall where babies in the NICU room in with the moms, which apparently is super rare, so there was literally no one else on our hall.

Our room had a big window that got direct afternoon sunlight.  There was a little couch under the window, and the window overlooked the hospital's meditation garden.  It was perfect.  We got settled in the room and then I promptly laid on the couch, Timon on my chest, and basked in the warmth and light of the sun, letting the tension and fear and anxiety of the day slowly unwind, loosen its grip on me and fall to the floor.

As we settled in, we tried to really settle while also remembering that it wasn't a guarantee that we would get to spend most of the time with Timon - we had no idea what Nicole would end up deciding about that.  I kept waiting for the other shoe to somehow drop.  For her to freak out, or for her to decide she wanted him with her the whole time, or for her family to come barreling down the hall yelling.  But it was quiet.  It was calm.  Hours passed as we rested, took pictures, held our son tightly - stared at his face and his little dimple chin and beautiful lips and dark, curly, soft-as-silk hair.  We marveled at how long his feet and fingers are and thought maybe he'll be tall like Douglas will likely be.

The nurses were lovely - all of them.  They were professional and didn't pry into our business or gossip or create drama.  You could tell that they were rooting for us.  The first nurse had two pictures of her children on the back side of her name badge and I noticed that her children were biracial.  The next nurse told us that she is Indian and was adopted in India as a child.  She spoke so highly of adoption, saying that she and her sister were both adopted and that she feels so lucky and blessed and thankful to be adopted and that she loves her parents so much.  It seemed like everyone we came in contact with had an adoption story.  I, of course, loved this and felt supported by it.  Micah, of course, thought it was obnoxious and wished people would stop going on and on about so-and-so who is adopted or so-and-so who is adopting etc, etc.  I think several of these conversations happened early in the morning when it was still pitch black outside and the nurses were checking on Timon - this probably didn't help Micah's appreciation of the chatty storytelling.

Firday afternoon, August 26th, the papers were signed and we were able to leave the hospital with our baby boy.

The entire hospital experience was amazingly smooth...amazingly smooth.  Micah and I both had no idea what to expect going into this time.  As you all know, we were just hoping her family wouldn't be there making things painful and more difficult.  In many ways we were expecting the worst.  Not only did her family not come to the hospital (she hadn't told them what hospital she was at) but also the entire experience was smooth.

Our experience at the hospital for Douglas' birth was very, very easy compared to many other adoptive situations.  Never in our wildest dreams did we imagine that this experience could be easier!!  But it was.  The other shoe never dropped.  It was smooth and easy and wonderful.  God completely and so far exceeded our expectations.  Completely blew us away.  I love when he surprises me like this.

More stories to come...

TD, Part 1

Mommy Brain is this strange thing caused by a combination of factors that include but are not limited to: sleep loss, excessive thinking about things like feeding times and poopy diapers, and showering way too infrequently.  Well, ok, maybe that last part is just something that I experience in my Mommy Brain phases, but still...

This unique blend of factors creates a kind of fuzziness - like a cobweb has completely sheathed your brain.  It's still in there, still has all its parts, still sharp as a tack in theory, but it Just.Can't.Get-the-message-out!

Thankfully, I now know that this condition is temporary.  Eventually, the cobwebs clear and you gradually become reacquainted with more of your brain cells until one day you realize, "Hey!  I just said EXACTLY what I meant to say!!  And it was clear and profound and pretty damn intelligent, if I do say so myself!  Go ME!"  And you realize that you're back.

This is not one of those times, my dear friends.  I am writing to you from the throes of cobweb-land.  I have taken some time off from writing to do things like bond with Timon and celebrate Douglas' 2nd birthday and spend time with family and friends.  But I do want to tell you about our experience these past few weeks, especially the days surrounding Timon's birth.  So, if I inadvertently digress into poop stories, just know that it is indeed inadvertent - and that one day I will stop.  I promise.

I'm just going to write what comes to me and it will DEFINITELY be long, so I'll break it up into different posts so that you don't all a) get that weird thing that affects eyesight from too much computer time or b) go away and never, ever return to this little blog of mine.

I am writing this story for two reasons - first, so that those of you who have been following our journey and those of you who have been praying can know what happened in the end.  Second, I want Timon to have this story in writing...it is part of his story, a big part of it.  For this second reason, I will write anything and everything that comes to mind, even if this means it becomes oober long.

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Monday night, the night before we left for TX for Timon's birth, we got a package in the mail.  It was two t-shirts that I bought for the boys that say "Superman was adopted."  They weren't supposed to arrive for a couple more weeks - I had even looked the day before online and it was still saying they wouldn't come for a while.  I was so thrilled that they arrived, and took it as a positive sign of things to come.  You'll see the shirts in posts to come!

We drove down to TX on Tuesday, August 23rd.  I wore my new Super(woman) shirt because I needed some super hero strength and bravery to get me there.  Two days before, Micah and Douglas had woken me up on Sunday morning with special paper clip necklaces that they made out of very bright paperclips.  We wore them all day that day and the two days following.  To me, they represented our unity as a family, walking knowingly, willingly into this very scary and totally unknown place - but we were together.  We would experience whatever came together, no matter what.

So, Tuesday morning we loaded up the last items into the car and headed for Texas - the little paperclip family.  (No one commented on my strange choice of necklace those few days - not at Target, not at the grocery store - I guess they just kept their judgment to themselves).

I felt anxious and nervous, but most of all, I felt excited.  Hopeful.

   

My sister, Heather, came over with my two nephews, Brendan and Logan, to say goodbye.  Brendan (4) started bawling when she loaded him back into the car to leave.  I went and talked to him, reminding him that we wouldn't be gone long, that this was just like the other trips we've taken in terms of the number of days apart.  I told him this just feels different because it's a really big deal that we're going to TX for Timon's birth.  He's lived next door to us his whole life, and now he's old enough to get that he should be there for this!  This is a really big deal!  Once we talked through the fact that it was the same number of days as our other trip we took recently, and that we would be back really soon with little Timon, he stopped crying and was able to say goodbye.  I love that boy.  I love that he totally got that this was a very big deal.  And I love that it made him sad that we wouldn't be together for it.

Brendan asked to borrow Uncle Micah's paperclip necklace for a few minutes...and, no, we weren't swimming this day - the goggles are just for fun, because why not?!

We had a great trip to Dallas - Douglas did great in the car, playing with toys and reading books.  We listened to lots of good music, drank water with 4 drops of Rescue Remedy in it (love this stuff!!) to calm our nerves, and continued to wait in that silent prayer that was all my body knew to do.  It was a really surreal feeling.

We had a great afternoon and evening at my parents' house.  Micah read and went to bed early, which is what helps him in times of stress.  I watched some mindless tv before going to bed, which is what helps me to deal with stress sometimes - I needed to check out just for a few minutes and take a little break from the constant awareness of "Wow!  This is BIG!"

There were moments that day when fear gripped me all of a sudden.  I sent a huge bag of Timon's stuff down with my mom several weeks before the birth date.  She and my sister-in-law Heather Ann unpacked it all in the guest bedroom, organizing it in a way that would make it easy for us to just bring the little guy home and take care of him.  There was even a yummy smelling candle burning (Banana Loaf or something, but it smelled like Pumpkin, and that's pretty much the very essence of home and comfort in my book).  As I unpacked our other bags, I was suddenly struck wth the thought, "what if we don't get to bring him home?  What if we come home from the hospital without him and have to pack all of these tiny onesies and diapers and bottles and swaddle blankets and moses basket back into the car and drive home?"  There could be no answer to those questions, nothing to make it feel any less terrifying.  Thankfully, though, those moments were few and far between on Tuesday.

That afternoon, I texted Nicole to just say that I was thinking of her and praying for her.  She wrote back and said something along the lines of "please take care of him and keep him safe.  Let him express himself."  I was SO thrilled that she texted back and that she shared with me what she hopes we will do as parents.  I let her know that we are so thrilled and honored to be his parents and that we can't wait to get to know all of who he is and to encourage and support him as he becomes who he wants to be.  She wrote back, thanking me.  She said that she knew this was the right decision and that she was ready.  This "conversation" totally shocked me...I was thrilled and encouraged by it.

We went to bed around 10 Tuesday night, and I was still laying awake at 11 pm when my phone beeped, telling me I had a text message.  It was from Nicole, and she was freaking out.  Without going into too many details, she was understandably getting very anxious the night before the birth, and was using some logistical details to express that anxiety - it of course had nothing to do with the details, but she didn't know how else to express her fear.  She was being very dramatic and freaking out.  We sat up in bed, turned the light on, and talked through every text that we would send back to her, trying to calm her down, to let her know we were sorry she felt that way and that we would work it out - to respond to the real issue instead of the one she was contriving.  I felt like I had been kicked in the pit of my stomach.  It struck me how quickly things can change in adoption and in life.  One second you think everything is going great and the next second it seems as if everything is falling apart.

After a few text messages, things seemed to have stabilized, and we tried to go to sleep.  We didn't even tell my family about this exchange the next morning because we didn't want anyone else to know - we just couldn't handle anyone else's emotions and fears and reactions getting thrown into the pile of crazy emotions that were already our own.  So, we woke up, we ate breakfast, we got ready to leave - hoping for the best.  Hoping that she would actually be there at the hospital that morning and that she would still choose to move forward with the plan.

My dad gathered us all around (my parents, Micah and Douglas and me, and my brother and sister-in-law) and said a prayer as we stood in  circle, arms around each other.  Micah and I had our eyes open the whole time watching sweet Douglas.  My dad was holding him at first and Douglas said "down."  We thought he wanted down so that he wasn't contained and could roam free, but it turns out he wanted down so that he could be a part of this like the rest of us were.  He stood there, still as could be.  He looked up at everyone for a long moment and saw their heads bowed.  I heard him whisper, "down" to himself and he bowed his head like everyone else.  He stood there silent and still until the prayer was over.  It was such a precious, funny moment for Micah and me in the midst of so much uncertainty and unease.

We said our goodbyes and tried again to explain to Douglas in ways that he could maybe understand that we were going to the doctor and would be back in a couple days and that we were bringing Timon home with us.

Notice my sweet Senior Picture in the background - NICE! :)

Driving to Harris Methodist Hospital Southwest in Fort Worth, about 45 minutes away, was as surreal as the rest of this experience has been.  We were quiet.  I said I wanted the windows down - I needed to feel fresh air before being confined in an overly air conditioned, sterile hospital for two days.  I needed to feel the air and hear it in order to calm down.  Never mind that it was TX in August, so "fresh air" really means 90-something degree air at 7:30 am.  We used the A/C with the windows down - very NOT Green, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and you know how I feel about that.

I got a few text messages on our way to the hospital from friends saying they were praying for us and loved us.  I got one from one of my yoga students that said simply this, "If peace is our top priority, God will be within us, and love and joy easily embrace us."  My eyes filled with tears.  Yes, I needed peace.  I needed joy and love to embrace me.

See what I mean?  We're not even to the hospital yet and I've already written this much! :)  There will not be this many details each step of the way (I don't think), but it's the little things that make memories, and I want Timon to have access to all that I can give as he learns his story through the years.

Back to School

Tomorrow, my tiny baby boy is going to school.  Well, technically he's not tiny anymore - or a baby - he's about to be 2 and he's very tall and weighs 30 something pounds.  And technically it's not school - it's a 5 hour Mom's Day Out program that my sister's two boys go to and love.  But this step feels very weighty.  And BIG.  And sad.

Today I decorated a little posterboard person to represent Douglas.  It will get hung up in the classroom along with all his little soon-to-be-buddies' people.  I planned to do camo pants because Micah and I both believe that every little boy should have a pair of camo shorts or pants that fit him at all stages of development.  This is a random belief that kindof surprises me actually, but I guess Douglas just looks so dang cute in them that we can't help ourselves.  Camo, it turns out, is hard to draw and looks silly with the two green options that my little JV crayon box offered, so bright green it is.

 (Hey, don't make fun of the little man.  I didn't cut him out, alright?! :)  And his eyes?  Don't even get me started on the eyes.)

I chose a Curious George shirt for many reasons.  Douglas LOVES Curious George.  And we love the fact that he loves him - because we do, too.  Micah still has a small stuffed George from his childhood that is in Douglas' room now.  This George's eyes fell out along the way and Micah's mom replaced them with big blue eyes.

More than all of this, though, is the fact that Douglas is truly a Curious Little Monkey.  He is "a good little monkey, and always very curious."  He's busy, always getting into things, always exploring - all in the name of curiosity.  We're pretty sure that Douglas is taking notes whenever we read Curious George books to him - "hmm...take the zoo master's keys and escape the cage, then hide with the elephant under the hay...NICE!  Grab the balloon man's balloons and let them lift you up into the air until you float around above the city...GENIUS!"  A wise parent in our shoes might consider censoring George, but we could never.  We love our Curious Little Monkey just the way he is.

So, I googled Curious George images and found one where George is holding up big binoculars to his face.  I love this because it represents our little explorer, always looking out at the world, always observing, always scoping out some good old fashioned FUN. 

Tonight I packed my baby his first ever school lunch.  The first of very, very many.  Sun Butter and Jelly, crustless, cut into four squares.  Dougie has only had PB&J about three times in his life, but he seems to like it, and I hope he is happy to find it in his lunch tomorrow.  A box of raisins because he loves them with all his heart and loves sticking his chubby little fingers into the box to try to fish them out...usually finishing with "Mama help" when his fingers (inevitably) can't reach the bottom.  (Who will be there to help him tomorrow???)  A rice cake.  Almond Yogurt...the peach kind because it's his favorite.  And a little squishy to-go bag of kid food because they're fun and he LOVES them.  His lunch bag is pretty much just a combo of everything that he loves or I think he will love...because I'm sad he's going to school and I'm sad thinking of him eating his lunch without someone there to help him if he needs it or to talk with him or know how to decipher what his words mean.  And so I soothe myself by giving him lots of treats for lunch.

They only get one snack during the day - I am a snacker and so is Douglas...all day long.  I told Micah I'm sad thinking he might get hungry and wonder why he can't have more snacks.  I said maybe when he's older I'll send him snacks in his pocket.  Micah said, "yeah, we'll send him in cargo pants and load him up."  I said, "yeah, with tots."  - Napolean Dynamite style.

Micah and I are a wreck about this school business.  Micah said, "I don't know WHAT I'm going to do when he goes to Kindergarten!!"  I know what I'll do.  Cry my face off and go buy myself a Sonic Dr. Pepper treat to make myself feel better.  I'll probably do the same tomorrow.  Micah and I talked tonight about how hard it is to let your kids go.  To send them out into the world and wonder if they'll be sad sometimes or feel all alone or afraid or insecure and wonder where you are - their support system, their security blanket.  What if other kids are mean to him?  (What if he's mean to other kids?)  What if he asks for help or tries to tell the teachers something and they can't understand him like we can?  What if he says "sit by you" (his way of saying "sit by me, please") and points to the chair next to him - and they don't sit by him?!?!?

Up until now, we have been in charge of his world.  We decide who he plays with and when and we are almost always there to watch the playing.  What if he becomes friends with the class bully and learns their tricks?  What if he gets bullied?  This is the first step toward letting go - releasing him to life, to what will come - what must come.  This is a tiny step even though it feels painfully huge.  There are countless more steps like it to come.

Be brave, baby boy.  Be kind.  Be curious.  Show love to all the little munchkins around you, especially the ones who are crying or afraid.  And when you are crying or afraid, take a deep breath - just like I taught you when you were very little.

You are kind.  You are important.  You are loved.

And so is every other kid in that classroom with you.  Always, always remember that, sweet baby boy.  Always.

I love you as big as the sky.  I am so very lucky to get to be your Mama, Douglas Thomas.