Saturday, May 7, 2011

The power of touch...

I don't think that I will ever forget the first time that I was able to hold each of my children.  Ever.  They brought Lilli into me as I was still groggy and shaking from the c-section.  This teeny-tiny little ball of red skin and bright eyes.  Jim and my Dad were in the room, and I was totally overwhelmed.  TOTALLY.  She was mine.  My baby.  My baby girl.  I silently whispered to her, as I would to all three the first time I held them, that I loved them for a long time already, that I would always love them, and that I would never leave them.  When Abigail was born, her heart was not beating properly, and she was whisked away to the NICU.  She would stay there for about 48 hours, and my arms ached to hold her.  I was first able to hold her in the Mom's room, and Jim and I stayed there until they told us she needed to go back into her "hut".  Austin was the longest wait, three days.  They attempted to let me hold him on the 2nd day, but within seconds his stats dropped and bells and whistles went off.  He went back into his hut, too.  I would sit on the side of his incubator, placing my hand through the little hole and just stroking his tiny, ultrasoft leg.  When I was able to really hold him, along with his oxygen, it was the best feeling ever.  So tiny, so trusting, so depending on me.

I am lucky that I have children who love to snuggle, perhaps because I rarely put them down as babies and we had a awesome daycare that did the same.  Even Lilli, who is almost 5, wants to be picked up when she is tired to rest her head on my shoulder or against my cheek.  Austin just wants to snuggle, to play with a necklace or an earring, or pick your nose (I know, right).  And Abigail is ATTACHED at my hip, and on my leg, and usually pulling on an arm.

And I love it.  I love being a Mom.  For as many days as I whine and complain and moan about it, there are double that in times that I stand in their rooms at night, watching them sleep, and get teary eyed.  I love them, more than I ever thought I would be able to love anything.



Lillianne Julia
Born and held June 20, 2006
(and would like it to be known that this picture
was take at about midnight after a 6AM induction
and then c-section at 7PM.  I am normally much cuter.)


Abigail Helen
Born June 18, 2007
Held June 20, 2007


Austin Matthew
Born July 25, 2009
Held July 28, 2009

Monday, May 2, 2011

Cannot rejoice in someone else's death....

Almost everyone on Facebook is overwhelmed with the joy of the murder of Osama.  And I am disturbed by it.  While I understand what Osama did was HORRIBLE and UNFORGIVABLE, and has caused more pain and suffering than anyone could ever comprehend, but is it really justified?  Do people know that he, too, had young children?  Somewhere there are daughters and sons mourning the loss of their father.  (Insert the standard reaction of..."How many sons and daughters over here cried when he killed their parents?  How many sons and daughters were born afterwards that never met their parents?)  I get it....I just don't believe that one death (or thousands of deaths) justifies another.  And do we really think that it is "over" now?  I fear this is only the beginning...that we are walking down a very unstable bridge and it will break. 
And what are we teaching the next generation?  What will you tell your children about this?  Will we say that "This time it was ok to hit back because he hit us first?"  I am sad.  Really, really sad.

UPDATED....Thank you Schevone

"I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that." --Martin Luther King, Jr.