PDA #14: Gene pool

This Public Display of Appreciation post honors my husband's DNA.

Hmm. Unless I'm mistaken, and this trait comes from me.

"Do you want a bag for your hair?"

Emma was standing by me at the register as I paid for our haircuts, distractedly bouncing her braid in her hand. "Do you want a bag for your hair?" the stylist asked.

Do those words make you laugh, too? I can't help it -- I think it's funny!

The braid was fun for shocking her siblings, now it's off to Locks of Love where it can be made into a hairpiece for a child going through chemotherapy. 

Emma created quite an uproar in the salon with her request to cut off 11 inches. "Are you sure?" the stylists asked over and over. 

Emma was. She continually delights me, this self-assured daughter of mine.

Emma, unplugged

Happy 13th Birthday, Emma!

It's an exciting day around here. James and Elise helped me prepare our traditional birthday breakfast in bed. Samuel heartily joined in the singing as we presented the tray. Since food pics are nearly always unrecognizable, I'll fill you in on the menu:  scrambled eggs, spiced applesauce, and pancakes shaped into a 13, topped with apricot syrup, raspberries and powdered sugar.

It's a thoughtful day around here. I heard Kyle turn philosophical saying,  "I'll never look at Emma the same now that she's a teenager."

But when Emma entered the room this morning Kyle reverted to the teasing older brother. "You're not really 13 yet, not until 4 or 5 (in the afternoon)."

Emma was a whip. "Yeah I am! It's called birthday, not birth minute."

It's a grateful day around here. My children's birthdays always make me pensive, Emma's especially so. I still catch my breath when I revisit her birth. Jeff and I were scared, but also felt so ... lifted. I felt shielded, protected in the moment from what could have been too much to bear. It wasn't until Emma was out of the woods, weeks later, that I learned some of the details of her birth: that she emerged from the C-section limp and blue, earning a 1 out of 10 on the APGAR assessment scale; that doctors performed CPR. I couldn't see any of this going on in the hushed room. Oh, the silence! I remember waiting to her hear first cry, but did not panic. Instead, I was buoyed. I felt it.

The same doctor also delivered Elise and James. He was hilarious. When Jeff couldn't accompany me to my appointments he wanted a full recap of the crazy things Dr. Roth said. So I was caught off guard one time during another prenatal visit when Dr. Roth suddenly turned serious. He asked how Emma, then a preschooler, was doing. "That was a scary day for me," he recalled. That remark was the first time I realized how tragic it could have been.

It's sobering to know that in a different time or place, neither Emma nor I may have survived her delivery. She was six weeks premature, delivered by C-section because I was bleeding out. She was 4 lbs. 13 oz.  She was in the NICU for three weeks. She had no surgeries, just needed to develop.

As far as we can see Emma has no lasting effects from being a preemie. At her first grade teacher conference I slumped in relief to hear Emma was on track with her classmates. I explained to her teacher a little bit of the guilt I had felt (it was my body, after all) about Emma's early birth, especially wondering if it affected her cognitively. "I think you can stop worrying now!" she said.

I don't know why our family was so blessed with this beautiful outcome. I know so many others watch their babies suffer, and my heart aches for them. Thirteen years later, sharing this story is still tender for me.

I am so grateful this loving, compassionate, capable girl is in our family. I look at all the wires and tubes Emma once had to keep her alive. I could be glad that Emma is past that stage, that she's "on her own power" now, so to speak, but there I would be wrong.

Because it's been Heavenly Father's power all along.

Self portrait, December 2010

PDA #13: Not a dud!

Jeff surprised us Monday night. We spent the day of the 4th with family a couple of hours away. Since Jeff wanted to get home in time to get a decent night's sleep before work Tuesday morning, we had to pull away before dusk. As in, BEFORE FIREWORKS with the cousins. Grumble, grumble. The kids were sad.

Still, we got to see snippets of practically every city's fireworks display as we drove along I-15. When we got off the freeway for our own town, Jeff headed south instead of the usual north. That got the kids' attention! A local display was in the works, and Jeff wanted to find the kids a good vantage point. He snaked the van around town, pausing at intersections as long as he could, so we could watch, moving only if other cars came by. Ultimately we stopped right in the middle of the road.

We hit the last 5 minutes of the show, just perfect, if you ask me. It finally dawned on me that I had the camera in the car, so I grabbed it and shot without regard for the right buttons. (These of Jeff and ear-covering James are long exposures without flash -- that's why they're blurry!) Samuel dubbed the show "too loud" and chose not to leave his car seat.

We were close enough to hear the crowd's cheers signaling the finale, which meant we better high-tail it out of there! Jumping back into the van and peeling out was exhilarating. Jeff got us back home in a flash. Being last-minute renegade fireworks spectators like this, without having to find parking, might become a tradition.

Later, when Jeff sat at the dining room table recording the day's receipts, I kissed his cheek and thanked him for making such a fun memory for the kids. "I CAN be spontaneous," he said, smiling. "I just don't plan on it."

Spin cycle

1. I experimented with a slow camera shutter speed to show motion on the merry-go-round. (The green and white forms are children running and pushing.) Samuel is in the center, above the white mass. Elise, by some fluke, is the only face in focus. She thought that was cool!

2. You wouldn't know it by this initial show of fear, but Samuel loved the merry-go-round so much he wouldn't get off. 

 

3. I love this shot for how Samuel's face is in sharper focus relative to the spinning around him. (Look at his fingers and feet!) I also like how the stripes on his shirt mimic the spinning grooves.

Spin Cycle

A mother I know, a stylishly grounded woman whose exquisite paintings expand my thinking, used this word to describe the realm of child-rearing: Perpetual.

Meals, dishes, laundry, carpools, homework, conflict resolution. Rinse, repeat.

Perpetual. It has a lofty connotation. It is not the word I thought of first. Tedious, routine, monotonous maybe. Overwhelming, overbearing, draining sometimes. 

We had to abandon the merry-go-round sooner than expected on Monday because the friends we drove to the park, a mother and her two daughters, were ready to leave. This did not sit well with James. My normally mellow 7-year-old threw the biggest tantrum known to man -- made worse because I could not shrink into anonymity.  Next, at the grocery store, where I drove my neighbor too, Samuel threw a huge fit. What gives?

Rinse, repeat.

I have been bogged down lately in a swamp of mothering discouragement. I am exhausted. I'm lonely. I often feel like I'm spinning out of control, not able to stay on top of anything (although my laundry pile would grant an impressive "king of the hill" perch).

The spinning of the merry-go-round -- almost hypnotically tranquil to watch that day, with its soundtrack of laughing, happy children -- stays with me.

These things are perpetual, too:

• Seasons

• Sunrises and sunsets

• My daily choice to put a positive spin on my current role, because I get to have these precious children forever.