8 years ago today

i learned that excruciating pain can be completely erased when a tiny human takes his first breath in your arms.

i have started this post a million times.  i honestly don't know where to begin.

 

i talk a lot about how you view life as an adventure.  lucky for me, i was chosen to tag along on your trip.  sometimes, you even let me drive!

carrying you was the most complete feeling i have ever had in my life.  i wonder if you, being a boy and all, will ever be able to comprehend that.  it was amazing (minus the months when i was so tired and sick i would pass out in my work clothes, only to change when i got up in the middle of the night to vomit).  all was right with my world.  i have never felt that level of contentment before, or since.

along with that though, was a constant worry that i would lose you.  never, in the history of birthin' babies, was a woman so happy to jump into maternity wear.  looking back, i'm sure it was my feeble attempt to hurry the pregnancy past the point of no return. 

it took a few years to get pregnant with you.  i took 3 pregnancy tests, each one made me smile bigger, my heart race faster. 

feeling you move in my ever-growing belly was the best, i felt it pretty early, at 4 months along.  from then on, you never stopped.  you would react to music, to daddy's voice, and to me laying down.  as soon as i would lay down, you would wake up.  they say that's because when i was walking around, it would rock you to sleep.  the bigger you got, the crazier my stomach would move.  eventually, the movement was visible from the outside and every once in a while i could see the outline of a hand or foot.

ironically, what turned out to be my last doctors appointment was on the day you were born.  the afternoon was strange, a mix a disbelief and excitement that it was actually happening.  i went to the hospital around 6:00pm, dialated to 6.  five hours later, at 11:07pm, all 8lbs., 2oz, of you arrived.  daddy cut the cord and they laid you on my chest.  the very first words you ever heard were me whispering "i've waited so long for you."

you have no idea how much love awaited your arrival.  daddy and i adored you, long before we actually met you.  you were concieved because i loved your father more than i had ever loved another human being.  you are the result of a love like no other.  no matter what happens, remember that. 

happy birthday, baby.  i  love you more.

so sentinmental...

when I was a kid, my grandpa grew countless fruits and vegetables.  his favorite were his home-grown tomatoes.  i hated tomatoes.  although, i'm not sure how i knew this, since i refused to even try one.  looking back, I'm sure it drove him crazy to hear me say that.  but he would just smile, shake his head, and pop another tomato in his mouth. 

he was so good at waiting patiently.  waiting for us to learn our own lessons, to realize that indeed, he had been right all along.  nothing made him happier than seeing his family succeed, and nothing made me happier than seeing him "glow" for me.

but I digress, i'm just talking about a tomato here.

he always told me that i just HAD to have a home-grown tomato, that the reason that i didn't like them was because the store bought ones are worthless.

do I need to say it?

he was, indeed, right all along.

this little jem joined some goat cheese and a baguette. so delicious.

how i wish that i could take a basket to him these days, just to see him glow.

{remembering} grandma

today would be her 84th birthday.  she has been gone for 12 years, leaving me with a heap of unexpressed gratitude.

salt air, sunburns, egg white cookies, her potatoes, the chime of the grandfather clock, lemon drops, the paper bark trees, the feel of her bedspread, the pond, staghorn ferns, windchimes, the feel of the cool entryway tile against tired feet that had spent the day playing in the waves, fresh tomatoes, grandma bowls of ice cream, grandpa's shoes always neatly placed next to the clock, ham, giggling at the table until we cried, the red stool, slides, and the smell of pipe - every one of these things brings a spontaneous smile to my face and transports me directly back to summers spent at their house.

she taught me the healing powers of homemade mashed potatoes, the bliss of good meringue, and that her oatmeal raisin cookies weren't just for dessert.

she proved that socks, nightgowns, and hand-knitted slippers (complete with waaay un-cool pom-poms), when i had none, were indeed very exciting gifts.

she encouraged me to be fair and accepting, especially when it's hard. 

unfortunately, she would pass before i fully understood her simple life lessons.

she would never hear how utterly lost I would have been, without her example. 

{happy birthday grandma - i miss you!}

Remembering: Alex

11 years.

Wow.

I still miss you, baby.  Can't wait to see you again.

-Momma