Once again........

Another all boy mom I know just gave birth to her 6th child. A girl. Finally. Now she can be done, she says. Why don't you have another one, it could be a girl, she professes, high on the fact that her body has finally given her a girl child after five boys. Seriously? I should just keep having kids until I have a daughter? Does that disregard the other three children I still have to parent, mostly alone, I might add. She told me several boys ago that she would have as many children as it took to have a daughter. And now she has her. And even though that child is only a few months old, she is thinking she should have another one, so people don't think she kept having kids until she had a girl. And mabye she would get a bonus girl at that. Am I missing something? I have dear friends who wanted large families. I get that. They wanted 6 plus kids. I can see that. You have as many kids as you want to have, everyone has a limit or a thought in their mind of what their family will be comprised of. But to have children just to have a specific gender? I don't know about that.

To me, gender disappointment has taught me more about life. About believing in God's word that my time will come. Either a daughter, a daughter in law, a grand daughter, a great grand daughter, or a girl not even related who will come into our lives and become as a daughter to us. There are many ways to influence a young woman. There are many ways to mother.

Could I have another child? Yes. Physically, all of that is working. Emotionally I could adore another child as I adore my sons. But at almost 40, do I want to do that again? I can't answer that and I find I am jealous of my friend who is older than I am, but still can say she wants more. Even as she parents her now six children. If I look honestly at it, her husband works from 9-5 or less every day. He is off each weekend. She gets the emotional support and the physical support of him taking the kids to school each day, going to every sporting event, helping out on weekends. His parents live close by and take her children a few times a month in shifts so they can spend time with some of their children, or even alone. She stays home each day, every day. She doesn't care if she exercises, she does not volunteer in her kids classes, or in the community. She raises her babies. And they are good kids, really. She can do it. She has the support. I do not. Face it. That's how my life is.

Am I jealous? Probably. As I hold her sweet girl and stare at the beautiful dresses and bows. But what am I willing to do about it? Nothing. I'm leaving it to God, and hoping that, like Abraham, he will bless me in the end. The wimps way out?? Maybe so.

What do you think? Would you keep having kids until you got your desired gender, or would you stop and thank God for the blessing that have come and move on with the other stages in life???

How do you feel now???

I was asked this question today during an interview with a freelance writer for Parent's Magazine. Now, over 4 years from the day of finding I would never have a daughter in my life. How DO I feel? Fine. A little tired, annoyed by Kadin's attempt to play his new Native American flute, waiting for the next wailing session to occur with one of the younger kids, and hoping the dog quits peeing on my kitchen floor some time soon. OH, about gender disappointment....how do I feel about THAT! I feel less in the moment of that actual moment. Life has taken over. I see from having friends lose children, have family members diagnosed with horrible cancers, and seeing families driven apart from strife and stress that there are other things that need my focus. I still trust God's words to me. Not in YOUR time, but in MY time. I know that He will see this tiny part of me that is unfullfilled, filled. I know that my pain is still important to him, even as I go through life. But really, I am so proud of my boys. I am so exceptionally thankful to be their mother. From the other side, I see where my family is different, better even, because I did not get my dream of a daughter. I have been able to totally emerse myself in my CHILDREN. Not my sons, or my daughter. But my kids. My walking hearts.

I found it funny that when she asked me about swaying methods, diet changes, ect., I could barely recall them. From someone who could spout them off in a moment's notice, they are no longer front line items for me. And I felt relieved as I laughed and told her so. I remember the pain of the loss of that dream from so long ago. And it can bring tears biting the back of my throat. But then I see Liam jump from the bottom two steps in an I LOVE DAD shirt, a cape, and alligator boots and I think...I was disappointed? WHY?

So, how do I feel now? Luckier than ever. Thankful to be an all boy mom. Excited to meet each day to hear what I never knew I wanted to know (did you know that if you put a lighter to one's butt as they fart, they could suck the fire back in?? Who exactly really WANTS to know that?? But there it is!). I realize now, more than ever, that I only hold these hands for a brief time. That life is wasted on the What If's and Should Have, Could Haves. I life for today. For right now. I feel blessed beyond measure. For my life, my friends, my family, a conversation with a neice, a laugh with my mother, a shared glance with my husband, and the craziness of raising three children. Yes, it's been awhile since I have visited these feelings. And now I will put them back on the shelf. For there are battles to be won as a Jedi and I don't want to miss any of them! Love the Life You Live!!!!!

Adding a son........

Eight years ago I gave birth to my second son. I remember the gamet of feelings I went through before his birth. Would I love him as much as I did my first son? Would we bond like I did with Kadin? How would I handle two small children? Would breastfeeding go easier this time around? I remember being petrified of ever going to the grocery store again. Where would I put my groceries? With Kadin in the front seat and the baby seat in the back, where would things go? A neurotic mess I was. When my water broke early on a Sunday morning, three weeks before my due date, I had no idea what to do. I thought I had wet my pants. I changed and went back to bed. Only to have it happen again a few hours later. After changing clothes again and leaking through them too, finally my husband told me to put on a pad. Why hadn't I thought of that?? I guess because I did not expect to stand around leaking on myself! Thankfully my mom was already at our house since I had been on modified bedrest since 29 weeks, we knew this little guy would come early like his big brother. Around 10 or so we headed to the hospital. By noon I had tried to get an epidural which did not take and the contractions were getting hard to breathe through. I had a good friend, my yoga instructor, Gloria, there with me helping me go through each contraction. It was amazing what the mind can control in times of horrible pain. Cullen's birth is a blur. Mostly because I was so relaxed from the subliminal messages of my birth coach that I could barely push. My doctor was sweating bullets when Cullen's head was delivered, but his body was stuck. Um, not good. You can't just shove the head back in and try again. I only remember Dr. Thornberry shouting at me that if I wanted to deliver this baby I had to pay attention to HIM NOW. And so I did. With Dave laying across my belly pushing downward, me pushing, and Dr. Thornberry pulling, Cullen was born on Sunday, June 23, 2002 at 4:03 pm. Weighing in at 7lbs 3oz. He was blue in the face but pink in body. The nurses were frantically massaging him and shoving oxygen in his face until Dave made them stop. Poor kid looked totally beat up. His face was grey and swollen and yet his body was pink. We don't have any birth pictures of him because my camera was on the fritz and the old 35 millimeter film wouldn't advance. Dave opened it up in the delivery room, exposing the film. Yes, I cried. I also broke every blood vessel in my eyes trying to push him out and looked like a cheap horror film actress for weeks. UGH.

From the start, Cullen has been not much like Kadin at all. He was a good eater, a great sleeper, quick to smile, slow to cry. He loved other people and would let anyone hold him. He was an active baby with a curious mind and the ability to make friends in an instant. He gave his older brother wings to do things he didn't know he could. He is quick witted and sensitive hearted. His golden eyes make me smile and his impish grin melts my heart. He has added so much to our family just by existing.

Today I celebrate Cullen McKee. And I thank God for our second son. The one who pushes the limits, reaches for the sky, and lives life to the fullest. He is our joy.

Happy Eighth Birthday, Cullen. We adore you!

Resolve to Finish

Today I was fortunate enough to stare tenacity in the face. Today I was priviledged to witness a woman do something that she never believed possible of herself. Today, I was in the front row of seeing a dream come true and it was amazing. From walking that road myself, to seeing it happen once again to someone in my life, I will never cease to be amazed at what one can do if someone just believes they can. How far one person will push themselves just because someone told them they could. When I crossed the finish line of my first marathon, it wasn't because I was the fastest. Or the best runner. It was because I had the tenacity to endure. The resolve to finish. When I watched, in December, my friend Amy Jones cross the finish line at the Jingle Bell run, it wasn't because she was the fastest on the course either. It was because she has it in her to finish what she started. And she did. Today, I had the highest honor of running a 5k with a novice. A fifty four year old novice. A woman who never saw herself as a runner, yet she is. A woman who had a stroke when she was my age, ran with wild abandon. A woman who has set goals for herself, not waiting for next year, next month or even next week; but NOW. A woman I am so proud to call my friend. I first met Sharon Martin a few months ago when she asked if I could help her run. How humbling! Me? Could I help her? And what exactly did I KNOW about running? Enough to help? Enough to answer her questions? To encourage her? When I had my own struggles I was dealing with. But I tried. She is a natural, I tell ya. ;) I didn't need to help Sharon learn to run. I needed to help Sharon see she could ALREADY run. What an easy task. Never say never. Try it before you say you can't. And then watch yourself do it. And she did. She did so well.

It reminds me of my father. How he would encourage me to try new things. To run the 400 meter dash right after the 300 meter hurdles. To high jump (I was bad) and to long jump (I was worse..). To throw the javelin (I rocked!). To see you don't have to be the best. The fastest. The most notable person on the court, the field, or the track. You just have to have the heart to do it, the audacity to stick to it, and the resolve to finish it. After all of these years, Dad, I finally get it.

It doesn't matter how you finish the race. It matters that you started. That you took that first step. And then the second. That on that day, you did the best you could. That you encourage others, celebrate their highs, and walk with them through their lows. And most of all, that you always have the resolve to finish what you start. With grace, with pride, and with knowledge that whatever you thought you could not do, with God and good friends, there is no limit.

Thank you, Sharon, for reminding me that life is not a sprint, it's a marathon. I'm proud to have run a bit of it by your side. Carry on, Sole Sister, carry on.

Reminded

Tonight as I sit on the couch, holding a little one who is sick, I am reminded of friends who have lost children. When Kadin was born, colicky, and nursing every hour and a half, I thought I would surely lose my mind. On some nights, rocking him with tears streaming down my face, I simply told myself that my friend Suzie would give anything to be sitting in her baby's nursery, rocking her baby. Suzie and I were pregnant at the same time. She was ahead of me. Her sweet baby had hydrops and did not make it. I went on and had Kadin. So on those nights, I remembered baby Molly and the thoughts of empty arms kept me going. Today some friends of ours lost their son, Hogan. He was born with Trisomy 18 and defied doctors by living for two weeks. Tonight, although his parents get to go home to two other children, I'm sure a part of their arms, as well as their hearts, feels empty.

It may be morbid to think this way. To remember friends who have lost children in order to keep my own sanity, but I don't think being reminded of how fragile life is is a bad thing. How we should be thankful for every day we have been given.

Tonight, as I hold my sweet Liam, I will remember. The Molly's, the Jay's, the Hogan's, and all other babies that are not of this world. And ask them to watch over my baby. Because one can never have enough angels either.

And tomorrow, when I am exhausted, short tempered, and wishing for a nap, I will remember to be reminded of my blessings.

Defining the Lines

Do you ever wonder where your kids stop and you begin? Or where your husband's needs become separate from your own? Sometimes I feel like that line is blurred. What everyone else needs or wants in the family becomes my top priority and the things that I want or need become second, third, or they never exist at all. On some days, I find it so difficult to maintain the status quo. Keeping the house, the kids, the schedules, the school work, the focus on God and family, incorporating the needs of others into our lives, all before breakfast! Today, Cullen was sick. A high fever pushed him from his bed in the wee hours of the morning and into my arms. After getting him meds, and settled on the couch with ice chips, all I could think of is that his getting sick messed with MY plans for the day.

I guess that is what running has done for me. While training for a race, I have a specific schedule. Time reserved for me and my girl friends. Time to do something for me. With me. And bonding time with some girls that have become my closest friends in a long time. We share it all. No subject is sacred or off limits. We have bared our souls to each other and found true friends in the process. I am eternally grateful. But I also feel selfish for the time I take away from my family to take my runs. Long runs can take up to five hours. FIVE HOURS away from my family. For me. It's crazy.

Yet, I have realized, I need to have those lines. The lines of mother, wife, sister, friend, individual. I need to remember what it is like to be me. In my own skin. With my own likes and dislikes and wants and needs. Doing so makes me a better person. For myself and others. To decide how I feel and what I think on different topics instead of just parroting what others around me say. And to be honest, I like the time with just me. To just exist in the quiet, or in the chatter of others. But doing something for me. Just because I enjoy it.

Do you do things you enjoy in life? Reading the Bible, gardening, photography, running, crafts. Whatever it is you enjoy, go for it. Redefine yourself. Make sure you are ok with you in your own skin. That there is a place where others stop, and you shine. It's hard, but it's a necessity. Carry on!

Getting Away

This year for spring break, Dave and I decided to get back to the basics. We looked for a destination that was secluded. Nature filled. A time to only focus on the family. Where we would literally be with each other 24/7 for a solid week. To regroup. To reconnect. To breathe together before the chaos of Dave starting his own private practice truly began. We found a home on Don Pedro Island in Florida. As a barrier reef island, most of the small island is reserved as a national park. You get there by a ferry that cost 170 bucks for 5 trips off the island. Or you could pay 55 dollars for one trip. There is a small resort on the island of Palm Island connected to Don Pedro that also has a small store. Small. As in one 6 ft isle with necessities on it. The restaurant was amazing though. A small three bedroom house on stilts. Painted yellow. With the beach in the back yard. We made ourselves at home for a week. Waking early to small giggles, long runs, walks on the secluded beach, watching dolphins, drinking coffee on the front stoop, and basically, just living life at leisure. It was healing. To search the beach for sharks teeth and beautifully colored shells. To sit and read in the accompaniment of God's masterpiece. To watch three little boys we love so much dig in the sand, jump waves, and just know what it is like to be off somewhere, together. Heaven with sand in the bed. Getting away makes me realize how little we truly need in life. Food, water, shelter, loved ones. How much we get sucked into the "I wants" in life that quickly become the "I needs." The rush around so that our children can experience life's opportunities. Really, the best opportunities my boys have had are on a boat my husband has rented where we see nature in it's natural state. Dolphins swimming in the bay. Manatee in the intercoastal. White pelicans on a small deserted island in the gulf. And each other to lean on. Now that we are back into the hustle of things, I look back to the calmness of the sea. The joy in my parents eyes as they see my children excitedly share beach finds. The lazy smile of my husband as we look over little tow heads at each other. And the ocean breeze blowing in a house where the sound of the waves lull you to sleep. Every once in awhile, I encourage you to just, get away.