Getting ready

We've been doing a lot of Christmas prep around here lately. There is so much to do, it's hard to juggle everything. It's also hard to balance the joy of the season with the grief that we're feeling. It was this time last year that we knew we were going to be having another little someone in our family, and we spent a lot of time thinking about what this Christmas would be like with another baby: another stocking to hang, another little someone to be in awe of the lights on the Christmas tree.

It was just two days after Christmas that we learned that little someone was going to be TWO little someones. How exciting that was! So this year, amid the hustle-bustle and the anticipation of the season, there is a sadness about what could have been. And there is so much to do that there are days when I wish I could just sit and cry. Or be bitchy and sad. Just one day when I didn't have to worry about taking care of the rest of the family and could just take care of myself...by just doing nothing. But that's not to be. I was reflecting on this as I was in the shower this morning. The shower is usually where I do my crying. It's the only time I have a few minutes to be alone with my thoughts, to be reminded, as I wash the scars on my belly, of what we went through. Of all that we did to try to make sure that at least Brigid came home safely.  But it still wasn't enough. It was so hard, and if she was here, it would have been more than worth it, but she's not. I realized the other day that I have cried every single day since March 9th. That's a lot of crying. My eyes burn constantly.

Anyway, this morning was a little different. This morning in the shower, I was laughing, remembering something funny that happened two years ago around this time. It was a little respite from the usual sadness I feel while showering, and it was like a gift for the day. Bear with me while I recount this gem of a story:

I was eight months pregnant with Thomas. Patrick had taken the two boys out for something - to Walmart, I think - and I was home alone and able to take a leisurely shower. Something I don't often do. We'd been having trouble with the toilet in our master bathroom - one of those jiggle-the-handle-or-else-it-just-keeps-running problems. Well, I used the toilet and then got in the shower. I was taking my good old time when I started thinking that the sound of the water echoing in the shower was something I hadn't noticed before. Probably because I'm usually thinking of other things and rushing to finish up. Gosh, I thought, it sounds like a babbling brook or something. Very relaxing. I finished my shower and turned off the water. Except the sound didn't stop. I opened the curtain and saw that there was two inches of water all over the bathroom floor. The toilet must have clogged and then continued running until it overflowed - a lot - and was still running.

Quickly, I jumped out of the shower (as much as an eight-month-pregnant woman can jump and be quick) and turned off the water supply to the toilet.  Think, think, think! I couldn't even think of where to start making this better.  I grabbed every towel out of the linen closet and started sopping it up, but there was still so much more.  And now the towels were so heavy and I could hardly bend down to grab them all off the floor. I threw them all, soaked, into the shower and saw that it had hardly made a dent in the mess. Then I remembered the shop vac.  I threw on a bathrobe that didn't even close around my pregnant belly and ran down to the garage to search for the shop vac, calling Patrick on the way down to ask if he knew where it was (our garage is crowded) to make the search easier.  As I got to the bottom of the steps, I could hear the water dripping down behind the walls of the foyer.  I had to be fast or else it would start soaking through the drywall.  We have a huge, industrial-sized shop vac, and I finally found it and dragged it upstairs, still dripping wet and half naked.  By now, the water is seeping out into the carpet of the bedroom as I frantically plug the shop vac in a couple feet outside the bathroom door and turn it on.  Thankfully, it served to eliminate the water in the bathroom quickly and effectively, and I started to calm down a little bit as I saw that I was making progress getting rid of it before it started draining down into the floor and through the ceiling of the main floor.  I took my time and made sure I was getting up as much of it as I could, knowing that there were no more towels to use to dry it up.  I sort of vacuumed myself out of the bathroom and as I got to the door, I started to feel some drops of water on my head.  It was only then that I looked behind myself and realized that the shop vac had merely been sucking the water out of the bathroom and then shooting it up in the air all over the bedroom!  Our entire bed was soaked, along with the floor, the dressers, and the walls and ceiling.  I just stood there and screamed.  I'm laughing hysterically as I type this, recalling the feeling of shock and horror I felt when I turned around.  I didn't have a single dry towel to use on it and I just started grabbing for sheets and blankets in an effort to dry everything.  And then I just started laughing.  I mean, honestly, it was one of those where's-the-hidden-camera moments, you know?  And I sort of just had to laugh or go crazy. 

I think that's really the key to survival.  Recognizing when you just need to laugh.  When everything is so far out of your control and you just can't believe that it could happen like that.  It's been my survival mechanism for most of my life - being able to find the humor in things.  This story sort of parallels our situation with the twins.  The blissful time in the shower is like that feeling of joy about adding twins to our family.  Opening the shower curtain and seeing the mess was like learning they had TTTS.  Working so hard to clean it up was like the surgery and months of bed rest and medications round-the-clock, and hospitalizations to make sure Brigid would be okay.  And then that shock of seeing the water all over the bedroom after I'd done all that work to clean it up was like the shock of Brigid's death. But the situation with the girls is just never going to get to the laughing stage.  And that's hard to accept.  Grief is exhausting, and I'm all kinds of tired.

Meanwhile, we're looking forward to Christmas with anticipation.  We'll be taking our boys to Walt Disney World in January.  It's a much-needed family fun time to help us reconnect and forget a little bit about what happened this year.  We're telling them Christmas morning, and I'm feeling like a kid just getting excited for both that morning and the trip itself.

Jack had his preschool Christmas program this morning and it was so fun to see him up there singing all his Christmas songs that he's worked so hard to memorize.  He only shared one of them with us beforehand and said he wanted to keep the others a surprise.  He's such a smart kid and it's amazing to see him learning new things and enjoying school.

I'll leave you with a few photos from this month.  I can't seem to get the video of the program uploaded to the blog right now, but when I'm able to do that, I'll post it.  It's so darn cute.

Thomas LOVES Santa, so it was funny to see him get shy as soon as he sat on his lap. He is rarely shy.  After a few moments of questioning from the Big Man and silence from Thomas, we said, "Okay Tommy, say bye-bye, Santa!"  Tommy said "NO!  See Santa more!"  He just liked being with him in silence, I guess, and the magic of knowing that the man in red knew his every unspoken Christmas wish.

Or something like that.

Brigid's day

Thursday was Brigid's funeral.

Since then, I have been swallowed up in a tsunami of grief that has left me barely able to function. My mind feels like it is still anchored back in the NICU on the night that she died, and my body has been stretched from that point forward to now, like a rubber band that wants to snap back to that point. To relive those moments before she died to see what we could have done differently. I feel fragile and disconnected and so very sad.

I took a few of the photos I had of Brigid and pieced them together into a sketch of what she may have looked like without all her tubes and tape. When I look at it, it makes me smile. It's exactly what she would have looked like: a bit of her brothers and a bit of her own person rolled into one.

Somehow, I gave her eulogy. It was as if I were a robot. I don't know how I did it, but I do believe I was supposed to, and so I did.

It said this:

As I knelt in prayer at church this past Sunday, I pondered Brigid’s death, as I have done every second of each day since it happened.

Specifically, I thought about God as our Father and the giver of every good and perfect gift, who tells us that if we as parents know how to give good gifts to our children, how much more will he give good gifts to us if we ask him.

And I wondered: What about this? How is this a good gift?

I’ve told our boys that just because Brigid died, it does not mean that God didn’t hear our daily prayers for her to grow big and strong and come home to live with us. “Sometimes,” I told them, “God tells us no just like sometimes Mommy tells you no when you ask for things.” They accepted that explanation…but I wasn’t so sure I did.

We all tell our children no when there are things that they want that are not good for them, but as a mother, I tried to imagine the circumstances under which I could possibly tell my children no for something that would break their hearts as much as Brigid’s death has broken ours. Why would I tell them no for something that would make them happy? What would have been the harm in allowing us to bring our healthy daughter home to live with our family? Especially after we’d already lost her sister.

I racked my brain for an example.

It came. It involved chocolate. And I realized that it all has to do with perspective.

I imagined myself baking in my kitchen. I love to make special things for my family, and I imagined I was making an extra special dessert treat for the birthday party of one of my boys. Only he didn’t know I was doing it for him.

He comes into the kitchen where I am standing and asks if he can have a few of the chocolate chips that are on the counter. Because I need to use them for the dessert, I tell him no.

Being the young child he is, he is devastated. “Please, please, please?” he pleads. “Trust me,” I say. “No.”

He falls to the floor crying and kicking and screaming. But I do not change my answer. Instead, I lovingly pick him up, give him a hug, and tell him to go and let me work. He doesn’t know it, but within a short time, I’ll have used the chocolate chips to create something extra special for his party, and I know that he will love it. This is why I can be a loving parent and yet be unmoved by his pleas.

And then I thought about this example in terms of my perspective on our situation.

To a young child, my denying him the treat that he wanted was devastating. But as his mother, I knew I had a plan for it that was far better. I knew his tears would be short-lived, but that he’d appreciate the final product much more than the chips by themselves.

To him, the few hours until the party seemed like an eternity. But to me, it was just a brief wait that was worthwhile for the celebration that was to come.

The small chocolate chips would have been a treat for him and they would have made him happy, but the special dessert would serve many more people and benefit him as well as others.

I have to think that our Father, with his infinite knowledge, sees our situation in much the same way that I, as a mother, see things in relation to our boys.

Our wait to see Brigid and Fiona again is nothing more to him than a little boy’s wait for his birthday celebration. But oh, the celebrating will be so much greater. The pain of being denied our request feels profound and deep; our tears will flow for months instead of minutes. But to our Father, this is but a short-lived trial. Our girls would have enriched and blessed our family had we been able to bring them home to live with us, but incorporated into his plan, they have been used to affect so many others.

Many of you might never have known about our twin girls were this not the plan. And I’m pretty certain that none of us will ever be the same again. We prayed and we rejoiced and we prayed and we cried. Our prayers brought us to our knees in the middle of the night. They drew us in close to the God who was in control of this situation from the very start. They came from Australia and China and Hungary and Canada and Scotland. They came from people who were prayer warriors and from people who had never prayed before. They brought glory to God because they made us acknowledge the frailty and wonder of life and realize that there is a power greater than us at work.

To know that our girls may have been used as part of God’s plan for someone else is humbling. Our faith has not been shaken by their death. Rather, it has been toned and stretched and strengthened. We have been brought to the end of ourselves and found that He still gave us the strength to go on. Our prayers for Fiona and for Brigid were really for our benefit too. The act of praying for them tested us and helped us to grow stronger. And though God chose to answer our prayers with “no,” our prayers were not in vain.

I believe it with every fiber of my being, but it is hard to go on.

Here is the slide show we played at her viewing.



Somehow, we're putting one foot in front of the other. I have never known sorrow like this before. But our God is good and he will walk with us through this valley.

Catching up...

Su, this one's for you. xx

Things have been a bit busy in the T house since Jack's birthday. A few days before Thanksgiving, two big things happened:

(1) Thomas started walking.

He was just a few days shy of 10 months old, which is right around when his brothers started too. (This is fun when the first baby does it, but much more difficult when subsequent babies do as there are more little folks running in opposite directions to chase around.) This has been uniquely challenging with Thomas, also, because he is very very tall. Tall enough to reach items on the kitchen counter already, yet young enough not to understand danger or consequences. It's forced me to have to rethink what items I can just leave on the counter to go help someone with the potty, for example. Thank God he's never been hurt by anything, but I've seen his little fingers just about ready to grab some of my sharpest knives and it's very frightening.

(2) We found out we're expecting again.

This came as a complete and utter shock, as we were definitely not trying and instead working to give ourselves a little more time to decide when we might be ready to have another. Apparently, God made that decision for us and while it took a few days to sink in, we were both happy about the prospect of adding a new little somebody to our family.

We visited family for Thanksgiving and even got a little snow that day. It was such a nice holiday.

Christmastime had me really feeling nauseous and tired. Exhausted, actually, and really nauseous too, I guess, since we all got a stomach virus the week before Christmas. It just picked us off one by one, starting with Thomas, and ending with me. I'm pretty sure I spent all day Christmas eve in bed with a trash can. Not exactly a holiday to remember, but the boys got to play with their new toys all day, which they loved, and I just tried to get myself to keep down a few sips of apple juice. It was weird to wish I was only feeling the pregnancy nausea and not the virus nausea, but I was praying for that several times a day.





A few days after Christmas, I had my first ultrasound for this pregnancy because I was feeling a little bit bigger and the doctor thought perhaps my dates were off.

Wrong.

Here's what we saw.


I'm glad I had a little inkling (I knew I was feeling larger than usual, and I also knew that my dates were probably not wrong), otherwise I may have just rolled right off the ultrasound table. So, rather than adjusting to the idea of one new addition to our family, we're mentally preparing ourselves for TWO! And the idea of five children under the age of five. It's been scary and overwhelming and exhausting and daunting, but also exciting and amazing (and did I mention exhausting?) and leaving us feeling tremendously blessed. Five years ago, as blissful newlyweds, we could never have imagined that we'd have five children one day, and now, here we are. The doctor is pretty sure they're identical twins, and while we usually wait to find out the gender, we'll be finding out this time around. Our big ultrasound for that is on March 9.

January brought lots of snow


and Thomas's first birthday.



My, that year went quickly! He is the most happy, outgoing baby and it's hard to imagine life without him. He makes us laugh. He tells us knock knock jokes. (Really.) He keeps us on our toes. He says Mama, Dada, knock-knock, up, cracker, ba ba (bottle), ball, hi, and bye-bye. His smile is contagious. He's a dancing machine.

I also got to visit my sister in San Francisco in January and somehow managed not to take any pictures of our time together. We had a great time doing a few things for her wedding in March, walking around San Francisco, and playing Scrabble.

It's hard to believe it's the last day of February, and March and springtime are just around the corner. This year, I could not be more thankful. It's been a long winter cooped up in the house feeling tired and nauseous with three energetic little boys. We're all anxious to get outside and play!

Cruisin'

This little push toy has been inside the torso of the scarecrow sitting on our front porch for the past couple weeks. During that time, nine-month-old Thomas has been pushing his Leapfrog table around the house and cruising along the furniture like an old pro.

I knew that as soon as I brought the walker back in, it would only be a matter of time before I had another little person running around this house. He's already crawling at the speed of light and getting into everything.

Today was his first try with the walker and he took to it like a duck to water. Once the novelty of the spinny things on the front wears off, I'm sure he'll be pushing it all over the place.

Sooo big!

Halloween preview

There was an early sale on costumes at Kmart and I had a Sears/Kmart gift card burning a hole in my pocket, so I let the boys pick their costumes out themselves for the first time this year. We looked online at all our options and they decided these were the ones they wanted.

I'm so very glad






because our home feels much safer with two superheroes living in it!

Mystery trip

It's hard to believe that it was a whole year ago that we first took the boys to see Thomas the Tank Engine. Remember this photo? PJ was only about 17 months old. Too young to remember.

One of the benefits of having kids who wake at the butt crack of dawn is that we can frequently do early morning outings in the cool of the day and be back home in time for lunch and naps. We're out at parks or the mall well before the crowds arrive. With three boys, another favorite spot is the nearby Strasburg Railroad, where we'll walk around and watch the engineers get ready for a day on the rails. The most thrilling part is watching the steam engines fill with coal and water and pull into the station to couple up to the passenger cars. The engineers are so kind and friendly. It's free entertainment and the boys love pointing out the knuckle, dome, whistle, and coal tenders.

(We know all the terms already going in.)

Can you name that movie?

Anyway, I knew Thomas was coming to Strasburg soon, and when I looked it up online last night, I realized he was there NOW. So this morning, I told the boys we were taking a Mystery Trip right after breakfast and we went to see him.

As we got close (but not too close) Jack recognized the route as being the one we take to go to the railroad. So by the time we got there, they knew where we were headed, and were excited enough about watching the engines, but they still did not know that Thomas was going to be there.

I love surprising them like that. They were both so excited.

Totally made it worth the fact that I didn't have time to take a shower.

We were able to snap a few pictures with Thomas as they were cleaning him up before he pulled into the station. Only the two Thomases were looking at me, despite my twenty seven "Look at Mommy!" requests.

Finally, a kind father saw my plight and said, "Hey, boys - look over here!"

(Kids, are you noticing all this plight? **gun shots** Roll 'em up!)

Can you name that movie?






Would have been nice if he were standing near me, but ah, well. At least I can see their faces.
I can't tell you how much I love these ones of them posing by the train. PJ's "cheese" always has me in hysterics.

I love how all three of my boys have, as babies, just sort of put their feet up on the stroller and lounge. It cracks me up.

After getting a few small Thomas-related items in the shop (because we do not have enough of those already), it was time to see Sir Topham Hatt in all his splendor. PJ was so excited while we were waiting in line. "I'm going to give him a hug!" he kept saying.

Then he saw him.

He wasn't quite as normal-looking as PJ had imagined and he was more than a little uneasy, but he did give him a hug. We had the option of buying pictures from the station photographer or giving the aid our camera and having her snap a few pictures. I figured I'd take my chances with package B. Here's what we got, completely unedited.

I love how that realistic-looking tarp in the background makes it look like we're really on the island of Sodor. I think she realized that maybe the grommets across the top are not really supposed to be in the picture, and then came these two:

Jack is all business. He's not about to mess up his chances at being an actual conductor with the Sodor Railway. If he can just nail this encounter with the big guy, then he's a shoo-in.

I kept telling them that PJ's name was "PJ" (which, I believe I was actually in the process of saying when this picture was being taken). Still, they continued to call, "DJ? TJ? Look, TJ!"


So close.

Oh well, I edited it a little bit at home and here's our memento from our morning Mystery Trip to see Thomas.

And a good time was had by all!

First giggles

We heard Thomas's first giggles today.

He'll be 12 weeks old on Wednesday, and the older boys' constant doting/tweaking/getting-all-up-in-his-grill finally paid off with a giggle!

Here, see what I mean? PJ is not only lying on the little activity mat with him, but is perpetually trying to honk his nose, tweak his ear, or tickle his cheeks.

And PJ is the worst tickler ever. He kind of just puts his fingertips on you and starts scratching, all the while smiling and going "tickatickatickaticka."

He's so cute I almost don't want to tell him that his tickles are actually painful. The whole time, I just want to push him away and scream, "OUCH! GET OFF!"

So the rule is that he's not allowed to tickle Thomas.

Thomas is still our little beefalo. He's wearing 6 month clothes right now. At his two month appointment, he weighed 15 pounds. I bet he's over 16 now.

He's eating so much, I can't keep up. I might have to add a bottle or two in the mix because it's nearly impossible to take all the time to sit and nurse him when there are two toddlers running amok in the house. I can't really do much to rein them in when I'm sitting on the couch barking, "Stop that!" and "Come here!" and "Don't make me come over there!"

They're no dummies; they know as well as I do that I can't really get up.

But gosh, they're cute.

And so's this guy.

I took that last Wednesday, the day Thomas was 11 weeks old.

I took this one of Jack, wearing the same jammies, on the morning he turned 6 months old:

It's hard to remember what life was like before Thomas was here. He fits into our family just perfectly.

Of course, I shouldn't have expected anything different.

Here's the video of the giggles. (Just pretend my voice isn't as insanely annoying as it really is, please. Thank you.)

Super boys!

I have two days until my due date, and, for obvious reasons, we've been looking for ways to have fun around the house.

This morning, Jack asked me to tie a blanket around his shoulders so that he could be a superhero. He's never asked this before, and we don't watch too many shows that have superheroes in them, so I'm thinking it must have come from seeing Super Grover on Sesame Street.

Anyway, we tried a few times with a blanket, but it kept falling off, so I got a couple of pillowcases and some rubber bands and made them each a superhero cape.

I have never had more fun watching the two of them play together!

This superboy needs a little rest from all the running around and helping.

Christmas morning 2009

I'm pretty sure this was my most exciting Christmas ever. Jack was old enough to anticipate what was going to happen, and we counted down the days until Santa would come with our paper chain advent calendar.

Christmas morning, I was awake before the boys, making monkey bread and lighting the tree. When I first heard them stirring at around 6 a.m., I went into Jack's room and he said excitedly, "Mommy, I heard Santa!"

I remember getting a few notes from Santa when I was little, so I thought I'd leave a little note and some gumdrops (thanks to Patrick's mom) for the boys from the man in red.

Jack had asked Santa for "Mowwy and some tracks that change wines."

(I just realized I never posted pictures of their visit with Santa...that will be coming next.)

Fortunately, when Santa looked at me curiously, I just nodded and winked knowingly. I knew exactly what that meant, and quietly thanked God that he wasn't asking for something totally new since I'd already finished my Christmas shopping.

So he got lots of tracks that change wines...er, lines. And his beloved yellow engine, Molly...who has gone virtually untouched since Christmas morn, but whatever.

PJ hadn't really asked for anything because, well, he had no idea what was going on, but he got a tricycle that he loves and had to be coaxed off of in order to open the rest of his gifts.

I thought it might be nice to get a picture of each of the boys in his Christmas jammies.

Then I remembered that Jack smiles like this whenever the camera comes out. You'd think the jammies were made of burlap and barbed wire.

PJ spent much of the morning with his tongue between his teeth, exclaiming "Thhhhmmmewwy Christmas!"

Don't ask me why.

He seemed to think it was the funniest thing ever.

We were supposed to have Aunt Devon, Nana and Pop-Pop come for Christmas dinner, but they weren't feeling great and it was freezing rain, so we stayed in our pajamas all day and the boys got to play with their toys. It was the most relaxing holiday ever.

Later, the boys sat on the couch together looking at some of their new (ahem, Usborne) books. Jack is fascinated with telling the time right now, so this one was just perfect for him. It has a little clock with moving hands and he was showing PJ how they go around.

I love moments like these.

I hope everyone had a blessed Christmas and a very happy New Year!

Small Talk

I love to record the boys talking. I like capturing the way they pronounce things, and their little voices, which are going to deepen before I know it, are so sweet.

I remember hearing audio tapes of myself when I was little. My dad or grandfather would hide a tape recorder in his pocket and have a little conversation with me. Listening to them later made me appreciate so much that they'd thought to do it.

PJ was looking at the camera on the table next to me while it was turned off and saying "cheeseburger" just a second before I picked it up and tried to catch him saying it. Of course, once the camera's on he doesn't say it again.



Then, while PJ was napping, Jack and I started looking at designs we could use to make his birthday invitations. I had put water on for tea and asked him if he'd like to have some with me. He was in. So I let him have a real teacup and we put it in a tea pot and sat at the table.

This is our conversation.



My battery cut out there at the end, but I was telling Jack that maybe we should do this every day while PJ is taking a nap.

His reply: "I fink we should!"

Friday Night Dance Party!

These speak for themselves.

Firsts

I think one of the best parts of being a parent is introducing your kids to something new and watching their reaction.

It doesn't have to be something huge - like their first bungee jump - it can be something as simple as their first time catching lightning bugs, or their first s'mores.

That's what we did the other night: first s'mores.


Jack was tentative at first, unsure of his approach. He liked the marshmallow, he likes chocolate and graham crackers. He just wasn't sure about all of them together in one bite.

PJ just got a toasty marshmallow and, initially, was giddy about the pure ooey-gooey deliciousness of it.

Then things started getting a little messy, a little sticky, and both boys, not otherwise neat-freaks, became a little perturbed.

Jack felt like he'd just like to have the chocolate all by itself, but wasn't sure how to go about it.

PJ was just anxious to get the sticky stuff off his fingers.

Then, Jack reached across the table for something, lying on top of his open-face s'more, and ended up with the whole thing stuck to the front of his shirt.

PJ lost interest and just wanted it all to stop.

But Patrick and I still had a blast watching them experience their first summer treat!