Four years ago today I gave birth to twins. I can remember the day as if it happened just yesterday (or at least a couple weeks ago). I remember the pain of an epidural, the pain of an incision, the pain of attempting to breastfeed for the first time to two babies, and I remember the sense of relief that they both were finally here and healthy. I remember the all consuming love I instantly felt for them.
Having twins has been a journey. With each passing day, week, and year I realize that as a mother I make lots of mistakes and ultimately Erin and Ireland pay the price. They were the first, the ones in which if I fumbled so did they. Through the tears (theirs and mine) I've learned that I can always be a better parent. It's a choice I make each day and will continue to make for many years to come. This journey has been heartbreaking, spellbinding, and joyous.
I've watched two girls grow from these little 5 pound babies to these amazing little girls who love to explore and experience all life has to offer. Erin is my little mommy. She loves to clean, mother her sister and brother, and loves anything princess. Ireland is my little monkey. She climbs on everything and she never seems to stop singing. She is my little wild child.
Through all the tears, yelling, and sense of utter defeat on my part they remain these adventurous happy children…and I've never been prouder or happier. The girls are all child. Their favorite thing is to play and get into things they know they aren't suppose to…and honestly I wouldn't have it any other way ( ok, less of a mess would be nice).
Remembering where I was 4 years ago brings tears to my eyes because it was the most amazing thing. I gave birth to the most beautiful little creature that instantly stole my heart and then was able to experience it all again just 2 minutes later. It truly was parenting by fire. I was immediately dropped in the deep end and quickly had to gain my footing. It wasn't always easy but I made it. I suppose that celebrating their birthday is also a celebration for myself because it is a testament to the fact that I have survived, succeeded another year, and fought through the dark tunnel of parenting while managing to see the light coming in through the other side.
I don't want this to sound like parenting is just a black hole but I'm not about to say it's easy or that it's always happy because it's not. Parenting is the most difficult thing I have faced…or will face. With the many joyous happy moments there are almost as many tears, pains, and struggles. You find yourself guiding, teaching, molding your children and some days it seems all is lost. BUT…it is in those moments that your child somehow rescues you simply by smiling, laughing, or saying they love you. You go from this dark moment to a sea of light and hope in just a second and that is what keeps you going…that is what feeds your parenting soul.
I know that the girls and I have a long road ahead of us, full of fights, yelling, crying, and doors slamming. We still have those dreaded preteen and teenage years left. There are still so many firsts to experience and so many mistakes to make. However, today….we are going to sing, dance, smile, and act silly because we have made it….we have survived each other and another year. So I'm putting on my best princess dress and celebrating all that my girls are and all that they will be.
Happy birthday girls….mommy loves you!!!
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Saturday, June 2, 2007
The Dark Side of Getting Older
The past several days have been filled with heartache of one kind or another. One of my oldest and dearest friends (granted we rarely talk and never see each other anymore) lost both of his grandmothers within days of each other... while having to celebrate his 25th birthday in-between. My step-father's dad died. And for all intensive purposes my husband lost a man that was a grandfather to him. However, since technically none of these people are family (per my husband's employment) we have remained in NC sending out thoughts, prayers, and love via telephone or email.
All of these happenings have served as yet another reminder that we are getting older. Granted, that may sound strange since I am the ripe old age of 25 and my husband is 28, but never-the-less older is what we are becoming.
We have joked about being old for years…or about 4 years now since that is when our girls were born. Immediately after their arrival late nights came to a halt. No more late dinners or meeting friends for a concert. We go to bed early, wake up early and attempt to accomplish the 5000 things that must be done each day and on the rare occasion we attend a concert we spend weeks planning our departure and care for our now 3 children.
This side of getting older isn't so bad, I rather enjoy it. I like knowing I have roots. With this softer side comes a very sharp and painful side of getting older. Watching those we love and care about pass away is difficult. We have lost family, friends, and friends' family. We begin realizing that not only will we have to face our parents' death but we also face trying to explain such events to our children.
I've tried over the past several months to talk about death and what it truly means to the girls. I wanted them to understand that the bug they step on won't be coming back or that certain actions have consequences that are forever (for example attempting to carry your infant brother across hardwood floors before putting him on the floor).
Speaking with the girls about this has helped them to understand some, but now they have taken on games pretending that one is dead and the other bringing them back to life. When I try to tell them death is forever, you can't be "brought back" Erin looks at me and says, "Well it worked for baby Jesus". I'm left wondering if you truly can explain death to an almost 4 year old. When religion is in the mix and you never are exactly sure of what they understand maybe you just need to close your eyes and hope for the best.
When the time comes that they loose someone they love I just hope that we are able to handle it in such a way that our children take something besides sadness and heartbreak from the experience.
As difficult as it is to loose those we love, remembering the wonderful experiences we shared with them is sometimes the greatest gift…because those can never be taken away from us.
All of these happenings have served as yet another reminder that we are getting older. Granted, that may sound strange since I am the ripe old age of 25 and my husband is 28, but never-the-less older is what we are becoming.
We have joked about being old for years…or about 4 years now since that is when our girls were born. Immediately after their arrival late nights came to a halt. No more late dinners or meeting friends for a concert. We go to bed early, wake up early and attempt to accomplish the 5000 things that must be done each day and on the rare occasion we attend a concert we spend weeks planning our departure and care for our now 3 children.
This side of getting older isn't so bad, I rather enjoy it. I like knowing I have roots. With this softer side comes a very sharp and painful side of getting older. Watching those we love and care about pass away is difficult. We have lost family, friends, and friends' family. We begin realizing that not only will we have to face our parents' death but we also face trying to explain such events to our children.
I've tried over the past several months to talk about death and what it truly means to the girls. I wanted them to understand that the bug they step on won't be coming back or that certain actions have consequences that are forever (for example attempting to carry your infant brother across hardwood floors before putting him on the floor).
Speaking with the girls about this has helped them to understand some, but now they have taken on games pretending that one is dead and the other bringing them back to life. When I try to tell them death is forever, you can't be "brought back" Erin looks at me and says, "Well it worked for baby Jesus". I'm left wondering if you truly can explain death to an almost 4 year old. When religion is in the mix and you never are exactly sure of what they understand maybe you just need to close your eyes and hope for the best.
When the time comes that they loose someone they love I just hope that we are able to handle it in such a way that our children take something besides sadness and heartbreak from the experience.
As difficult as it is to loose those we love, remembering the wonderful experiences we shared with them is sometimes the greatest gift…because those can never be taken away from us.
Friday, May 4, 2007
No Miss.....A Double D Won't Cut It!!
Breastfeeding is not for the faint of heart. You see, with my girls I wanted so desperately to breastfeed and did for about 4 months which mainly involved me pumping because I couldn't feed them fast enough and well it just became easier to pump and allow Sean to help than attempting to do it on my own. Between 4 and 6 months I finally quit all together because frankly I felt like a milk cow…pretty picture huh?
Given that my first experience was less than wonderful I had hoped this go around with only one child to feed would be much easier. Well, in some respects it is…only one mouth to feed. However, I have learned that breastfeeding is not so easy for those of us with large breasts. That's right; I said it…big, huge, gigantic breasts. Granted, I've always been well endowed but upon having children they begin to take on a life of their own (at least mine have)…growing from one cup larger to three.
When weighing the pros and cons of breastfeeding you don't ever hear about the fact that if you have large breasts your back is going to hurt at least twice as much or that the indents on your shoulders from your bra are going to get deeper because the weight of your breasts has at least doubled. I guess for most people these cons aren't a problem but then again maybe they are and women are just afraid to talk about it because let's be honest failed breastfeeding has a way of making us feel guilty (or is that just me?).
My husband knows of these problems I'm having and I must give him credit, he tells me that if I choose to stop he is okay with it and will help with the bottle feeding. Granted I often wonder if some of his motives aren't due to the fact that he has lost his wife to surgery recovery and sore breasts.
Let's be honest ladies, men enjoy sex and those several weeks after giving birth leave them- well wanting it often simply because they can't have it. Then you throw in that if they touch your breasts you might punch them in the face because they are sore and engorged from the tiny life that sprang from you loins sucking on them all the time.
I wonder if some men are jealous of this fact? Suddenly they have lost their wife and her body to a tiny 7 pound child who has the ability to awaken her from a deep sleep and allowed to suck on her breasts? Just food for thought.
Anyway, just in case no one ever told you…sometimes breastfeeding isn't fun and the fact that it's free and offers many health benefits to the child becomes less and less appealing when you can't find a bra that fits and you back feels like you might suddenly break in half. Just in case you were wondering. :P
Given that my first experience was less than wonderful I had hoped this go around with only one child to feed would be much easier. Well, in some respects it is…only one mouth to feed. However, I have learned that breastfeeding is not so easy for those of us with large breasts. That's right; I said it…big, huge, gigantic breasts. Granted, I've always been well endowed but upon having children they begin to take on a life of their own (at least mine have)…growing from one cup larger to three.
When weighing the pros and cons of breastfeeding you don't ever hear about the fact that if you have large breasts your back is going to hurt at least twice as much or that the indents on your shoulders from your bra are going to get deeper because the weight of your breasts has at least doubled. I guess for most people these cons aren't a problem but then again maybe they are and women are just afraid to talk about it because let's be honest failed breastfeeding has a way of making us feel guilty (or is that just me?).
My husband knows of these problems I'm having and I must give him credit, he tells me that if I choose to stop he is okay with it and will help with the bottle feeding. Granted I often wonder if some of his motives aren't due to the fact that he has lost his wife to surgery recovery and sore breasts.
Let's be honest ladies, men enjoy sex and those several weeks after giving birth leave them- well wanting it often simply because they can't have it. Then you throw in that if they touch your breasts you might punch them in the face because they are sore and engorged from the tiny life that sprang from you loins sucking on them all the time.
I wonder if some men are jealous of this fact? Suddenly they have lost their wife and her body to a tiny 7 pound child who has the ability to awaken her from a deep sleep and allowed to suck on her breasts? Just food for thought.
Anyway, just in case no one ever told you…sometimes breastfeeding isn't fun and the fact that it's free and offers many health benefits to the child becomes less and less appealing when you can't find a bra that fits and you back feels like you might suddenly break in half. Just in case you were wondering. :P
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Standing Beside Our Neighbors
As many I watched as the horror unfolded at Virginia Tech. At first I was just dumbfounded…could they really be talking about Virginia Tech…I've been there…I know that place…I had friends who went to school there….attended football and basketball games there….they must be mistaken. It felt so close to home that it couldn't possibly be true.
As more and more news came out about this terrible situation I realized this was no mistake and the full terror of the situation began to sink in. I immediately called family. I'm not entirely sure why…none of them were there or even in the area but this was happening "just over the mountain" as a West Virginian might say. This was our neighbors they were talking about. I just wanted to make sure my family was okay, knowing all the while they were fine.
The problem was…our neighbors were not okay and I felt powerless to help them. I was torn between continuing to watch the television and wanting so badly to just get away from it. I didn't know any of the victims or their families and haven't been on the campus in years but still it felt like it was taking place in my backyard. I just wanted so much for the news to be wrong but the death toll just kept climbing and the horror just seemed to grow.
My heart goes out to these students, professors, and all their family and friends. I don't know how you get beyond this…how you begin to feel safe again but I'm sure these people will show amazing strength as they already have. The situation just raises so many questions and even more fears. Is there any way to truly feel safe after this? Is there anything else the university could have done? Could this have been prevented?
Maybe I'm naïve but how do you reach so many students coming from so many different directions? How do you shut down a campus? How do you keep everyone safe? It's been mentioned that if nothing else the fire alarms should have been pulled so the students/professors would know something was going on. In reality, I don't see this helping. How often in school have you heard the fire alarms and reacted in panic or fear?
It's also been mentioned that emails should have been sent sooner…how about commuters? Do all students check their email before heading to an 8am class? When you awake to start your day and everything seems fine why would you check the campus television or email to make sure everything was fine?
I guess the police could have barricaded every entrance so commuters couldn't have gotten on campus but even that takes time. I guess looking back on the situation many people smarter than I will see what could have been done or done better but even with the best laid plans there seems to be loop holes for those that truly wish to create problems.
As much as I feel pity, sorrow, and confusion concerning the shooter I still place the blame upon his shoulders. He chose his actions. Yes, he was disturbed but it was his actions that created the situation. These students, faculty, and administration were put face to face with great fear and to judge how any of us or they should react when faced with such fear seems at best irrelevant and at worst unhelpful, again maybe I'm just naïve. It's said often that hind sight is 20/20 and the only thing any of us can do is learn from the past and work towards the future.
I'm sure the school/university systems will undertake some changes in hopes to make them safer or at least make those attending feel safer. In the end, only so much can be done and pointing fingers just serves to tear down the community so many are in need of.
My thoughts, prayers, and heart goes out to all those affected. I hope they find peace and understanding. I hope our neighbors are able to rise from the ashes stronger than ever not allowing this to define them.
As more and more news came out about this terrible situation I realized this was no mistake and the full terror of the situation began to sink in. I immediately called family. I'm not entirely sure why…none of them were there or even in the area but this was happening "just over the mountain" as a West Virginian might say. This was our neighbors they were talking about. I just wanted to make sure my family was okay, knowing all the while they were fine.
The problem was…our neighbors were not okay and I felt powerless to help them. I was torn between continuing to watch the television and wanting so badly to just get away from it. I didn't know any of the victims or their families and haven't been on the campus in years but still it felt like it was taking place in my backyard. I just wanted so much for the news to be wrong but the death toll just kept climbing and the horror just seemed to grow.
My heart goes out to these students, professors, and all their family and friends. I don't know how you get beyond this…how you begin to feel safe again but I'm sure these people will show amazing strength as they already have. The situation just raises so many questions and even more fears. Is there any way to truly feel safe after this? Is there anything else the university could have done? Could this have been prevented?
Maybe I'm naïve but how do you reach so many students coming from so many different directions? How do you shut down a campus? How do you keep everyone safe? It's been mentioned that if nothing else the fire alarms should have been pulled so the students/professors would know something was going on. In reality, I don't see this helping. How often in school have you heard the fire alarms and reacted in panic or fear?
It's also been mentioned that emails should have been sent sooner…how about commuters? Do all students check their email before heading to an 8am class? When you awake to start your day and everything seems fine why would you check the campus television or email to make sure everything was fine?
I guess the police could have barricaded every entrance so commuters couldn't have gotten on campus but even that takes time. I guess looking back on the situation many people smarter than I will see what could have been done or done better but even with the best laid plans there seems to be loop holes for those that truly wish to create problems.
As much as I feel pity, sorrow, and confusion concerning the shooter I still place the blame upon his shoulders. He chose his actions. Yes, he was disturbed but it was his actions that created the situation. These students, faculty, and administration were put face to face with great fear and to judge how any of us or they should react when faced with such fear seems at best irrelevant and at worst unhelpful, again maybe I'm just naïve. It's said often that hind sight is 20/20 and the only thing any of us can do is learn from the past and work towards the future.
I'm sure the school/university systems will undertake some changes in hopes to make them safer or at least make those attending feel safer. In the end, only so much can be done and pointing fingers just serves to tear down the community so many are in need of.
My thoughts, prayers, and heart goes out to all those affected. I hope they find peace and understanding. I hope our neighbors are able to rise from the ashes stronger than ever not allowing this to define them.
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