Claim the Good No Matter What

There was a little voice in the back of my head when I wrote my blog post on May 31st, Dreams Really Do Come True. It was a quiet one and it was ignored. But the voice tried to make me feel afraid of claiming the family milestone we had when we first went bowling. We've now been going twice a week with great success. But on that first day, we did a new activity as a family of 4 and it was actually fun the whole time. All 4 of us enjoyed it and Tim and I did not feel stressed or depleted afterwards. That was a really big deal. But publicly claiming that victory gave me a moment’s pause. Here’s why:

Sometimes we live in a headspace of scarcity. Like, if you claim something good and enjoy it, you will find punishment around the corner. The good stuff is scarce but if you’re quiet about it, maybe no one will notice and the hammer won’t drop. Does anyone else fear this? I’ve worked really hard on my scarcity mentality. If you don’t recognize how evil this kind of headspace can be, just look at what we’re doing in this country to “Make America Great Again.” The entire idea of deporting Muslims and building a wall centers on scarcity. This kind of nationalism lives in a place of throwing elbows and seeing people as “other” first and a drain on resources. As we know, some critical resources are finite, so any generosity or space created for diversity and acceptance threatens the amount left over for the majority.

I run my own business. And business is another arena where scarcity thrives. Everyone is trying to beat the competition and make the most money. Sometimes even at the loss of the customer either with quality or service. I cannot tolerate this. For me to represent something personally to people I care about, it has to be legit or I’m not doing it. Thankfully, I’m working with a company that lives the antithesis of a scarcity mindset, focusing on helping ourselves by helping others first. We work in teams and those teams do not compete or withhold resources from each other. It’s lovely. It’s the only way I could comfortably do business in the long-term. I literally cannot increase my business unless I’m actively coaching a teammate in achieving their goals or helping a customer improve their health. What a way to make a living! When I’m living in scarcity and fear, I understand the cutthroat mentality that a lot of businesses thrive on. And if it’s between my family or my community, I’m willing to admit, I choose my family. But I’m grateful to be in a business where I can have both. I know how rare that is.

These are some more obvious examples of scarcity thinking. But is the fear of bad following good a part of that in a distant way as well? I believe it is. I think we believe that only so much good can come to any one person in a given amount of time. And if we claim it, bad could come sooner and more intensely. Maybe it stems from my religious upbringing. There is a lot of theology that supports this either by claiming that marking a victory comes from a place of pride and “pride comes before a fall.” Or, that if you are experiencing good, that the “enemy” (Satan) will attack you and your family. Even admitting that I don’t live in that headspace anymore feels like a dumb thing to publicly claim. Not dumb because it’s obvious and no one believes that but because that fear is still there. Who would want to entice the devil?

Perhaps that is where the fear of pleasure comes from. A lot of conservative Christians fear pleasure. No one has ever said that to me outright. But we are really sexually repressed and anything that feels really good, must be sinful. That’s why we work so hard to find joy in God, because that’s the only safe place to find it. We mock “hippie liberals” for their love of nature and the environment. We judge those who imbibe for being addicts or weak. We call women who want to have sex but don’t want to be mothers whores and “baby killers.” Pleasure scares us. And maybe claiming a family victory is a form of that, enjoying a win and taking pleasure in the moment. Or maybe it’s okay, but only if we go on and on about giving God the glory.

No matter. My life has taken a few hits since that post. My tooth drama came full circle when it was extracted but not without extreme pain. Turns out, the nerve that was giving me so much pain ran THROUGH the tooth. Who knew? So, no matter how many needles my periodontist jammed into my gums and cheek, I could still feel it when he tried to extract the tooth. You know what they have to do in that case? They have to drill into the tooth and stick a needle directly into the nerve to numb it. Thankfully, after a shocking jolt and subsequent involuntary sobbing, the pain stopped for good and that shitter was removed from my mouth forever. Apparently the whole implant process takes 6 months, but day one sucked.

A few days after that, on Father’s Day, our house flooded. One of the kids left the toilet running and apparently it was also clogged. So for an hour during quiet time, 2 of the 3 of us were snoozing, the water just ran and ran. From our upstairs toilet to the carpeted hallway, through the floor to the kitchen ceiling below to the kitchen floor. The only thing we’ve really upgraded in our house we’ve had 12 years is that flooring. It’s gone now. Don’t worry, it’ll be replaced. And I’ve been saving so we can easily pay our deductible. But it’s a pain in the ass and there are strangers ripping out things I love and a lot of dehumidifiers and fans making the house almost intolerably hot.

Here are the positives. They’re always there if you’re looking. One, I had 3 dear friends help me on tooth divorce day. 2 of them drove me while I was high (though not nearly high enough). The other watched Penny while I was high. THANK YOU. It’s so beautiful to have people who, on a moment’s notice, are willing to get you your meds and make sure you get home safely. Many friends have listened to the insane tooth drama with compassion and humor. I feel so loved. Two, nothing of sentimental value was lost in the flood and we had the funds set aside to where the deductible doesn’t hurt. That’s a really big deal and I’m grateful to my business for providing us with the cushion we need to do things that really improve our happiness. Things like vacations and savings and not accruing dental debt when I feel I may have bought my surgeon a car at this point.

All in all, I will claim the good. It’s all we’ve got. And it’s enough.

Dreams Really Do Come True

Our family has been through a lot. I imagine all of our families have. Tim and I, since we've been married (12 years) have been through the sudden death of a parent (his dad), the death of 3 grandparents, 2 job losses (one traumatic, one that took 9 months to replace), 2 bouts of post-partum depression (one so severe it required hospitalization), 2 pregnancies that were riddled with debilitating migraines (one that in addition destroyed my hips making it impossible to sit, stand or walk) and 1 emergency surgery. There has been wonderful therapy. There have been lots of important conversations. And there have been many, many adjustments - of schedules, expectations, boundaries, lifestyle - you name it, we've transitioned to it or away from it. 

During our most difficult time (the second and more serious bout with post-partum depression), I dreamed of exactly tonight. Now, it may seem silly to say that 4 years ago when our lives were coming apart at the seams, I dreamed of a family bowling night. And of course, I didn't literally. But when I had a 7 week old baby, a 5 year old starting kindergarten and a husband who hadn't slept more than an hour in 8 weeks and was hospitalized, I dreamed of being a functional, happy, healthy family of 4. HERE. WE. FUCKING. ARE.

I'm filled with joy. I can't tell you. There have been leaps and a million baby steps in between. And, as life would have it, many, many regressions. But what I hoped was that we would be able to hang out and do activities and have a good time. That there would be a point when stress would not come into play. We have had many moments where we powered through the stress and congratulated ourselves on taking the risk. The risk of traveling, staying all in one hotel room, going to the movies, getting on an airplane, taking a long car ride, eating in a restaurant, adjusting sleep schedules...so many risks. There was also a lot of compromise. For a few years, any big fun that I wanted to have with the kids needed to be had alone. And that was something we both agreed to, that though Tim was not ready for what I was ready to do (like Disneyland), I was and that was okay. That I wanted to do it whether he could join us or not. And the girls and I did some cool stuff during those years. It takes a lot of guts to be patient when you're not ready for something and just as many to push through the pain and develop stronger anxiety muscles. The dream was that one day we'd meet on the other side. Tonight, we did.

I am so, fucking proud. 

Tim and I went bowling on our first date alone (our first official date was a double date at Disneyland and practically a blind date). That night was the first and only time I ever beat my husband in bowling. I can't tell you how pleased I was. And I've been trying to beat him again ever since! (Tonight was not that night). So when Tim signed us up for free bowling all summer, I thought, that could be fun. But how much bowling can a 3 year old really do? Turns out, when you have a sensory kid, she can lug a bowling ball around for 2 straight games and be completely good to go. Even our server commented on her gumption (she also almost beat me...I gotta step it up). And our non-sport-playing 9 year old got a chance to lose at something, which we all know is a critical life skill. She's actually pretty naturally gifted, but couldn't beat the combo of Penny's bumpers and ramp. All in all, we enjoyed ourselves tremendously.

It's important when you are living in your dream fulfilled that you take a second, step back, and soak it all up. That's what I'm doing. I'm proclaiming to the world - we made it! Here's to many more nights of fried food, bowling balls, movies, road trips, flights, whatever. We can take it and I'm so relieved. 

This P*$&y Has Officially Expired

I have so many ideas for writing today, my 35th birthday. I want to talk about how it feels to be a woman at 35, how much more comfortable I'm becoming with myself and perhaps, ironically, that is one of the reasons women my age and older no longer attract Donald Trump. Confident, comfortable-in-their-own-skin-women turn off misogynists. We're not interested in being defined by our sexuality. We refuse to use our looks as pawns to define our abilities, our potential or our value. We're in a process of becoming more and more ourselves and therefore, less likely to be interested in his opinion or anyone else's, for that matter. It's our own opinions we're coming in touch with, FINALLY. 

I also want to say, I'm not done yet. Not at all. And while that sounds silly (I'm not exactly dying), I have this thing creeping into my psyche that's telling me I better hurry up. That my energy or my health or my vitality are on a timeline that will continue to accelerate and if there are things I want to do or be or live into, I'd better get a move on. A healthy dose of motivation is not a bad thing but most people who know me well know that I am intrinsically motivated and always have been. No one needs to tell me you only live once or to carpe diem. I feel that in my bones. The thing I'm wondering today is do these two realities (that in Hollywood/Trump land I'm officially not viable now that I'm 35 and the fact that I feel pressure to accomplish my goals sooner rather than later) come from the same place? Do all people feel the clock ticking on their dreams now or do women feel that way because our productivity has always come down to our body parts? So as my eggs get older (though I'm done procreating) and my sexuality becomes less in-your-face, I become done? Like, that's it for me. 

I think the big number in my head is 40 and so these thoughts will undoubtedly continue soldiering towards me with increasing force in the next 5 years. In many ways I feel like I'm just emerging. I've been toying with many ideas of my personal potential and where I want to lean towards as my children get older. Do I want to go to grad school, write a book, expand my business or all 3? I don't know. But today, it feels as if I need to know sooner rather than later. And I'm wondering if my gender, if my sexual viability plays into that pressure. It's ridiculous, really, as none of my goals are remotely tied to my fertility or ability to attract someone of the opposite sex and yet, the clock seems to be ticking somewhere in the background whether I listen to it or not.

I feel as if my time is just beginning. Though the world might be likely to tell me I'm almost done because I'm a woman accelerating towards whatever age we define women as past their prime, I am just getting started. I have so many things I want to do. I have so many versions of myself I'm working to uncover, develop, expose. It's thrilling. It makes me hopeful for the future, as I become more and more confident, as I push myself towards personal discomfort to yield growth again and again. Yes, I am a woman. But regardless of the age categories I'll be lucky to find myself in over time, I will always be in a state of becoming. I just know that about me. We already know we never arrive. And maybe 35 year old me is saying, I don't want to.  

When the Daughter Becomes the Mommy

It's a running joke in our little family that my oldest daughter, Macy, and I are pretty much the same person. Obviously, I understand that we're not but our temperaments only differ in one area that we can see (I'm organized; she's not). And while being so similar seems like a bomb waiting to explode (who knows), for the most part it's been fun and fine. The weird thing I hadn't quite put together until today was that her difficult experiences would potentially trigger my difficult experiences because she's more likely to process them the same way I did as a child only now I'm the mother. It's giving me a new way to see my own mother and re-process my childhood through the eyes of the mom versus the little girl. So, so strange. And humbling. And sad. And triggering. 

This morning we got to revisit one of my most upsetting childhood memories - when I found out that Santa wasn't real. Most kids are bummed or angry when they find out. I was devastated. I felt betrayed, like I couldn't believe my family willingly deceived me. I found out on Christmas Eve when my older brother wasn't quite thrilled enough about Santa and I could tell he was summoning enthusiasm for my benefit. So I asked the questions and I got the answers. And while I knew in my heart there was doubt lurking there about flying reindeer and black coal, I was honestly totally shocked. It had become a fundamental truth to me that those things existed. And so to find out that the magic of Christmas was basically contrived, the world became a place where sometimes my favorite things are actually charades. 

Macy lost her 7th tooth last night. So I got out the glitter and replied to her note and snuck in her room for the 7th time. And when she woke up, I asked how it went and if she heard back from the Tooth Fairy. This was on the way to school this morning (first Macy, then Penny on preschool days). I had a migraine and had had to get both kids out the door in 30 minutes flat so I wasn't exactly on my A game. I believe this is why it did not occur to me to tell her we should talk about it with Daddy later that evening. And so when she asked me if I was the Tooth Fairy, I asked her if she wanted me to answer that question. Sometimes kids throw questions out there (with devastating answers) but they don't really want to know yet. And Macy, like me, loves fantasy and enjoys the benefits of belief to the highest level. I figured she had suspicions but that at 8, she had chosen to believe this far and maybe didn't want to let go of that. I fully support that as a viable choice with belief. 

Apparently today was the day she wanted to cold hard truth and as I got her consent and verified she really did want to know, I told her. I didn't want to deny her the truth when she said she wanted it and I was unwilling to lie to her. That was always the distinction for me, that I could encourage a fantasy for fun, but that when my kids asked me point blank and it was evident they really wanted the truth for themselves, I would not deny them that. At this point, we were in the car drop off line and the tears started to roll. It was not ideal, to say the least. So we decided to drop Penny off on time and I would bring Macy back to school afterwards so she would be late. That decision afforded us 30 more minutes to process, discuss and get her head and heart in a place where she could go have a good day at school. She's been reading a 150 book series on fairies and for some reason, I thought she already knew that fairies weren't real. Apparently not. So not only did she find out that it was her mother sneaking in her room with glittery money, but she also found out that all the woodland creatures she's fallen in love with through the joy of reading are also not real. Shit. So I stepped in a bit of a landmine there. I felt really bad about that. She was crushed about the Tooth Fairy because that was the only fairy that she knew personally. How sweet is that? 

And so we began a conversation about how technically, I can't definitively say fairies aren't real just because no one has ever seen them, how I'd never lived in the forest, and that maybe humans are shielded from that reality. I was totally on board for that. So she decided she still wanted to believe in the existence of fairies. Cool. She got to keep that one. The other massive fuck-up was that she then came to the question of the Easter Bunny and Santa and while I thought I'd gotten her consent to answer that question honestly, apparently her asking twice was still her version of musing and I answered it when she wasn't ready. Damn. So then we unpacked that and we discussed my experience at her age with finding out. She became angry with me and I told her that was okay. I was willing to be the problem in her process. We talked about her feelings of sadness and her shock that we had all done these things under the guise of it being Santa. She wondered if Santa was in fact real and we were just getting in his way. Maybe. We talked about the inspiration for Santa and that Saint Nick himself was a real person and that what he represents (generosity of spirit, kindness) was still very much real in how we celebrate Christmas. We talked about the magic of childhood and how Dad and I believe in the value of infusing magic into her experience and all the beautiful memories she has of that time of belief (hello church baggage!) And we talked about how she could still choose to believe, pretend to believe, participate, not participate, join us in our role with her sister or any combination of these things. That was her decision and she gets to decide what to do with her new information. We talked about the value of hard conversations and our willingness to pull back that fantasy veil as she gave us her consent to do so. That we believe in sitting in those painful realities and that not every family does that. That's why we talk about sex and changing bodies and death and belief and loss of belief openly. We talked about there being space for her anger and grief. We talked about growing up and the process of lifting veils and how the world becomes bigger and smaller, more real and less fantastic. We talked about her choices and her ability to guard her beliefs as she sees fit. We talked about being stewards of other children and not intercepting their process by shouting these new truths from the rooftops. She talked about her desire to be the one to tell her sister when the time came because "sisters give the best snuggles." And by the time we pulled back into her school parking lot, the tears had dried and she hopped out. 

And that's when mommy called daddy and felt a little teary and decided to write it all out. 

Parenting Moments

I had a few milestones today with the kids that I wanted to document. The first one is, Penny turned 3 today! It was so fun to see her and Macy playing in the Columbia River tonight at the same exact spot we took our family/maternity pictures 2 weeks before she was born. Macy was only 5 then. Watching them interact just reminded me how quickly time goes on and how incredibly grateful I am that we added to our family 3 years ago. For those of you who don't know, we had another kid because I was totally not done after having one. And I didn't get pregnant again for a long time (hence the 5 year age difference). Tim was totally satisfied with one kid and I was not remotely satisfied. I was so in love with Macy and just knew I wanted another child. Then came Penny. Just such a magical little creature. She was such a perfect little newborn baby, great at nursing and very happy to be worn by mommy. It was bliss. Simultaneously, we were going through the biggest challenge of our family's existence - Tim's mental health crisis. It was such a strange mix of joy, fear, trauma and deep satisfaction. That health setback allowed our family to face our "stuff" in therapy and learn how to really love and care for ourselves as individuals. We were held up by our community in a real way during that time and I honestly don't know what we would have done without our family and friends. It's crazy to think what our lives would be like if I hadn't been so desperate for a second child. All of our lives would be on a completely different path. Not just because we would be missing the entire incredible element of Penny's existence, but also because it was her birth and the subsequent adjustment to it that forced us all to grow in such deep ways. At first, I felt guilty about how difficult of an adjustment it was for all of us, knowing that I was by far the impetus for such a change. And yet, we owe Penny a huge debt. Her birth and her existence has made us what we have become. I will always be grateful for that. I have this weird sixth sense when it comes to discernment and I'm so glad I've learned to fully tune in to my gut. I knew we weren't complete. And now we are. Thank God for Penelope Jin-Ok Sibley.
The other big thing that happened today was that Tim and I had to make good on a big, looming consequence for Macy. I won't disclose what she's been struggling with behaviorally, but it's an integrity issue that Tim and I have gone around and around with her about. We finally put the biggest thing we could think of on the line. And unfortunately, with full knowledge of the consequences, Macy made her decision today. It was crushing, just awful. So she will not be participating in Journey Theater this fall. No classes. No show. I'm really disappointed because it means the world to her. It had become something we enjoyed together and I'm feeling that loss personally too. It's so important to us to raise a child of integrity that we are willing to allow her to face the biggest consequence we can imagine (based on her priorities) to teach her this valuable lesson. Sometimes being a parent really hurts. But I know deep in my heart that we're doing the right thing. It's so critical for children to learn to take responsibility for their choices and to have natural consequences for those choices play out. Thankfully, I feel no struggle about the actual decision because we literally had no choice. Sometimes your child's choices back you into a corner and not following through is truly bad parenting. We offered her grace. We corrected misunderstandings. We explained things clearly. And she made her choice. I could see her processing and trying to keep her chin up but I knew it as soon as she started shame-spiraling. I saw her internalize her mistake "I was bad" and then projecting the loss as inevitable "I wouldn't have gotten a part anyway (in the play)". Gratefully, I can read her like a book and I immediately spoke into that place. "You're a wonderful child. You made a bad decision." And I provided empathy "I'm so sorry you're having to lose this. It's really sad." I held her for a long time while I watched her process her thoughts and feelings. When I felt tempted to renege, I remembered the parents of the Stanford rapist, who raised a young man without empathy, self-awareness and the ability to take responsibility for reprehensible choices. God knows where his victim would be if they had put his choices and subsequent consequences in his hands early on. Rather, they continue to behave as if rape is accidental, understandable and preventable with sobriety. I hate to provide consequences and yet, I must. For society's sake and for my child's sake. Ugh.

Separation is Hard

I like to think of myself as a pretty chill parent. I let my kids lead for the most part. We still set boundaries with our children, as you should in any relationship, but I don't have a lot of actual "rules", more like rituals. Anyway, because of the whole one less car issue, I made the executive decision to have Macy ride the bus to school for the rest of the year. She's changing school next year (for exciting reasons I'm sure I'll talk about some other time!) and we are required to drive her there. So this is clearly a 5ish week change. But my darling daughter is me to a tee. She resists change. When I mentioned to her that it was a real possibility, she was upset. We were walking home from school and she essentially raced away and walked home without me. I figured she needed time to process her feelings and wasn't surprised. We had a bus incident (I'm sure it'll come up here eventually) when she was in kindergarten that I had in the back of my mind to revisit so she doesn't have issues with independence in this area and karma intervened. Here we are, taking the bus. 
So we're confronting some past trauma for both of us. We're also making an unexpected change and not really by choice. We're cutting into the precious Macy/Mommy time we have each morning and both of us share Quality Time as our primary love language. And yet, once Daddy explained through the emotional haze that this was a necessary step for all of us (it's really the safest, best choice for the family with one vehicle right now) and that sometimes being in a family means doing things that we don't want to do. Personal sacrifice is part of community and that's an important lesson (one I'm still really wrestling with on the church level) to learn. 

Waiting patiently for me to return after a potty break. 20 minutes, people!

Once I realized that on top of feeling like there's too much change for her (new school next year and getting glasses) that Macy's primary concern was not having as much time with me, I determined that I would get up earlier and make her lunch the night before. Of course, we were ready way early and rather than read together, which I was fully expecting, Macy was ready to skip to the curb and wait for the bus for TWENTY minutes. That kid. This, she also gets from me. Once the change is determined, you face it with gusto. We chatted with the neighbor boys and got the skinny on where to sit (and apparently where NOT to sit. Bus politics have not changed, my friends) and I introduced her to the bus driver. 

Lots of roadside hugs

I came home feeling sad and relieved. This time is different. When you revisit something that was scary, the fears start talking and shame voices gain traction. Sadness or grief pay a visit. If you don't know the word for this type of experience, it's called "triggering." I'm mostly nostalgic that my little girl is growing up and I'm proud of myself for making a hard decision that's still the right one for the whole family. Sometimes my perfectionist brain thinks that what is best for the whole family might harm the individual (this is a theme for me from the trauma of our post-partum depression experience). And sometimes, that's true. But in this case, I believe this is also what's best for Macy. If we can still get her need for quality time met, she will gain confidence and independence through this that will help prepare her to change schools in the fall. I guess all of that is to say, it's okay that "normal" adjustments are hard for you. I know so many people who don't bat an eye at this type of change and probably think I'm silly for feeling all the feels. But I do. Perhaps because I have so many feelings, it has made me the right mom for the daughter who is just the same. 

Weaning Day

It dawned on me on Monday that Penny was beginning to wean. Her several weeks-long unpredictable nursing patterns finally translated into the truth (I'm slow on the uptake. I literally just bought my first fedora. I hear they're not cool anymore): Penny is ready to stop nursing. There are so many good things about this. 1- She's initiating it, so as a caretaker there's no possibility for guilt on my end. Having my child increasing in independence over time is one of my main goals as a parent - developmentally-appropriate independence with support available as needed. Check. 
2- Tim and I can finally put to rest any illusion that my presence is critical to making life with Penny work. With all our post-partum baggage, this is really healthy for me. My leash, at least physically, is being severed. 3- We can travel! We will celebrate 10 years of marriage in January and we're really hoping to take a trip to commemorate that huge occasion next year. 4- I can go back to underwire! (Okay, so maybe these points are not all of equal value).
Even though we're "ready", it is still a major transition in our relationship, probably the biggest one since birth. The change is physical, emotional, logistical. I liken it to a breakup where you're trying to end the romantic relationship while still attempting to remain friends. 
Your connection is changing and it's sad, awkward and liberating all at the same time. In some ways, you cling harder because they're the person you're used to turning to when things get tough, even though the transition is within your relationship. 
As with most transitions for my kids, I'm thrilled for them while simultaneously sad/nostalgic for myself. I've always been sentimental and processing these things when they happen helps me to minimize the fallout in other areas of my life (let's not even discuss the car I backed into today in the Office Max parking lot. Seriously, who even buys office supplies in retail stores anymore?!?!)
So, we spend a fantastic day on Tuesday celebrating Penny's "weaning day." It felt like the 1 year old version of a bat mitzvah with a little first day of your daughter's period mixed in for good measure. I took her somewhere she'd never been (Portland Children's Museum) and watched her utter delight as she everything freely (there is no greater gift to an active toddler). I got to gaze at her in admiration while she raced around curiously. Occasionally she'd stop and search for me, making eye contact. She may not need to nurse anymore, but she's still checking back to make sure mama's only an arm's length away.
I'm so proud of her persistence, her amazing ability to connect and also remain her own entity. She's fierce. Already her own advocate and bent on discovery, Penny moves as quickly as her little legs can carry her (and the higher they can climb up, the better). Not one to give up easily, my little Pen takes risks. She's such a gift! I'm so grateful to be her liason into the world. At one point, she was literally connected to me and now I get to be the one to show her around. 

Look out, world. Here she comes!

Milestones

I've always said that the first and second birthdays are the hardest. Then Macy turned 3, 4, 5, & 6. So far, there hasn't been a birthday yet that hasn't thrown me for a loop. Even though I anticipate my children's birthdays with excitement and I really enjoy making plans to celebrate them, somehow I'm still surprised when they actually happen. Kind of like how you feel when someone who's been sick for awhile finally dies. They were ready. They were looking forward to it. And on behalf of them, you were ready for them and celebrated their release from pain. But for yourself, it's still sad and somehow shocking. I still don't get it. 
My little Penelope is turning 1 year old tomorrow. For those of you who don't know, it took us 2 and a half years to conceive Penny. There was a time that I wasn't sure if we would ever get the pleasure of having another child. That process was such a learning experience for me and very personal in my relationship with God. He spoke to me in those places of longing, loss and impatience. There were times I really thought I was pregnant and wasn't. I tried to tell myself not to get my hopes up only to find myself disappointed time and time again. I remember one month, God actually asked me to thank Him that He did not give me a child. Ouch.
One year into the process, we were fired from ministry. Initially, God was asking me to trust Him with the timing of another child. That turned into a season of Him asking me to trust Him if there was to be no more children at all. And finally, asking me to thank Him for my empty arms. He reminded me that my arms were not empty, that He had already given me a child, whom I loved very much. At the end of all of that, we lost our friend Ryan to cancer. He was 30. In our grief, we clung to each day and to each person whom we loved. And in the midst of that grief, we conceived my precious treasure Penny. 
As I may have eluded in other posts, and will surely discuss many times in the future, my theology has changed a lot in the last few years. It's been a difficult but mostly intentional process. But there are a few things in my faith experience that are incredibly personal to me, times in which I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God was working. This fertility process and the timing of the gift of my second and final child is by far the one of which I am most convinced. 
I had a difficult pregnancy which resulted in me slowing down a lot. Her birth was totally nuts (somehow it took 5 days of false labor and then only 1 hour and 52 minutes for her to be born) which resulted in me biting my husband at one point (bet he was wishing I'd had time for that epidural). We went through a very painful post-partum season with Tim's depression, which was so much more severe than we ever could have anticipated. We had the privilege of being loved through crisis. Our life was literally held together by the people who love us. Somehow, in all the darkness that was this year (and we are SO not done), Penny has been the shining light through it all. As much as we've cried, our moments with her have been almost entirely pure joy. She is a gift. I call her my treasure (and then promptly sing Bruno Mars). 
I am so proud of the fact that I have spent night after night rocking her to sleep, nursing her, reading to her, feeding her (which feels like an Olympic sport these days), kissing her, holding her and talking to her. I have not taken her babyhood for granted. When I had my first baby 6 years ago, I was more anxious, almost seeing the baby phases as something to hurry through. Boy, did I regret that! Babies do require a lot of care, duh. But then when I didn't know if I'd ever have another one, I promised myself I would savor it. As much as this year has thrown us some very painful curveballs, ones that we never intend to repeat, I have so many moments with her that have changed me forever. She's changed all of us forever. 
She's made Macy a big sister, which I'm convinced has been as big of a gift to her as it's been to us. I've never been prouder of my oldest than when I've seen her day after day welcoming her little sister into her world. She has grown tremendously this year and I hope they will always have each other. There's just nothing sweeter than watching your kids love on each other. 
There have been moments this year when I've felt anxious about the passing of time. Like an hourglass, the time of Penny's babyhood felt like it was slipping through my fingers. In those moments, I've reminded myself that I really have done the best I could to treasure her, and that the time passing isn't within my control. I only get to decide what I do with the time I'm given. And so, with a heavy heart, I laid her in her crib tonight and kept my hand on her back until she fell asleep (this isn't me just being super nice, it's actually the only way she'll sleep:) And I came in here to capture my thoughts, knowing that the next time I see her, she'll have magically turned into a one year old.