The Beginning of the Best

Susannah is less 24 hours away from being four years old.

I don't think I ever imagined what it would be like to have a four year old. I was so focused on getting through my pregnancy, keeping her alive, nursing, figuring it all out. Oh I was so focused on that day-to-day, I couldn't look up - I couldn't imagine what was coming.

I remember her being born like it was yesterday. That labor was like a dream - my 6:30am wakeup call on a Friday, the long silence of Hypnobirthing labor, the hour and fifteen minutes of hard work pushing her out - pushing her out to Brandi Carlile's The Story (which I found from this birth video and story).

That first six weeks of her life is burned into my mind too. Such clarity of focus, such intense love and joy and praising: oh finally, finally! I had waited my whole life to become a mother and she christened me so kindly. I remember it all: the chocolate cake every day at 2:12pm, episodes of LOST always on, the sound of the chimes of my new washer/dryer as they ran ran ran constantly with new baby laundry, the cool air blowing in over Grandma Mary's vintage couch.

It's only gotten harder from there - and sometimes I get really scared when I think how much higher the stakes are going to get, how much more complicated the issues. I am afraid that I fail a great deal in being the mother I should be; I am, in fact, often stunned by the depths of my own failings. I am often shocked at you too - you, Susannah, natural heir to my occasional writings here.  You are suddenly...you. You are yourself. You are not me - although for so long you were, you were just an extension, as natural as my arm or nose. You are now yourself and claiming that boldly. I'd be more proud if I could stop being so hurt by the growing pains.

It's hard. You're the oldest child I have on this earth, so naturally I expect so much of you - sometimes, too much. I often fumble, I am reaching out a hand to find my bearings, and before I catch myself I'm trampling on you in the process. I worry, oh I worry, and your dad and I spend so much time talking, praying, talking, praying - for you, for help, for guidance, for the ability to give you whatever you need, for you to be shielded from our foibles.

It's good too. I love getting to know you, I love showing you the parts of the world that I love, I love that you get as excited about books as you do about toys. I love seeing your imagination develop, seeing how you crave stories, make up worlds, live in them and believe in them deeply. I know these stories, this newfound independence, this self I am helping you discover will lead you into the deepest and greatest mystery: union with the Triune God, who is all that is Good and Beautiful and True.

Susannah, your birth was the beginning of the best part of my life and every day, even when I am frustrated, I am beyond thrilled to be your mother.

The Zee is Three

Three years ago, I was seven hours from my water breaking, and just fifteen hours away from laying my eyes on my firstborn child. Birth story here.

Three years.

I remember so much about my pregnant, so many moments, so much anticipation. I nostalgically look back on her newborn days - six weeks of watching LOST with Tom and Jen, eating amazing food delivered by my fantastic community, staring at her for hours. I remember so much about her first year (first month!), every single first etched in my mind forever: first time she rolled over, waved, the sound she made when she sneezed, her funny pirate crawl, sitting up, walking, saying Dada. I remember the first flower she picked for me - a Don Juan rose from the bush that grows by my parent's mailbox in the house that I spent a good deal of my growing up life in.

And now, somehow, we're here. This past year flew by - between my pregnancy and David's arrival, house projects, travel - it feels like just yesterday was her second birthday. Here we are, and she's changed so much. She's potty-trained, takes swim lessons, hangs out in the YMCA daycare, goes to her little faith formation preschool.

Yet she's the same. Oh, she's the same. As one. As two.

From the day she was born, she was special. Doesn't every mother say that about each child? Oh, I don't care - I'll say it about her. She's different. She is bright, and sensitive, and funny. Her memory is stunning and her sense of comedic timing truly impressive - I'm thinking of her kicking back in her brother's baby bathtub and cheerily declaring, "I'm in a holiday mood!" As Grandma Jean said of her, "she dazzles me." She is still watchful, a bit guarded with newcomers, relentlessly affectionate with her intimate friends, and happiest relaxing near water with me, her mother. I remember being able to work in the garden with her from the time she was little - 14 months - and she'd stay right by me, listen when I told her to stay, ever watchful and careful and wise.

Although, it isn't that easy being her mother anymore. Toddlerhood hit her with a vengeance about two months before David was born, and it's been very hard on all of us to adjust to her growing pains, to learn anew how to care for her best. Even harder still, I feel my responsibilities keenly where she is concerned: to help her mold and train her talents into virtues, and to work to acquire that which doesn't come easily. I feel so much responsibility because I see her as so very amazing - I want to lay the foundations for virtue so that she will be ready to do whatever great work God asks of her. Some days I overly complicate this; on my best days, I realize this comes naturally when I love her deeply for just who she is and work to communicate that love in all we do day by day, side by side.

It's hard for me to say what I really think when I look her, which quite honestly is: you are my dream come true, you are what I've always wanted, my greatest work in this life is to care for you, and your siblings, until God calls me home. Susannah's entrance into the world ushered in the start of my great adventure, what I am doing to make the world more beautiful. I am humbled to be the recipient of such a gift; each day, I endeavor to deserve the honor of being a mother, and having so precious a child.

Happy birthday, Susannah Marshall. May this year bring you great joy, grand adventures, and lots of strawberry donuts with sprinkles (your favorite).

According to Z

Yesterday, as I was trying to get her ready to head to the babysitter's so that Tom and I could have a much needed date night...

Zuzu: FLEEEK
Me: Oookay, please go grab your shorts so we can go.
Zuzu: FLEEEK.
Me: Uh huh. Please go grab your shorts.
Zuzu: FLEEK.
Me: ZUZU that word doesn't mean anything! Please listen to me!
Zuzu: It DOES mean something! It means I'm very hungry and I need to eat right away!
Me: ...well. Ok. I will get you food. First please get your shorts.
Zuzu: Oh-KAY!

 

 

Grace for Mothering

Since I'm on a self-deprecating streak, I'll keep it going.

My immediate postpartum period was very difficult, as I've alluded to. Zuzu wanted to be picked up, she was constantly following me around the house begging, "hol' me! hol' me!" At first, it made me cry - she just wants to be held and I can't pick her up! Then I began to get frustrated - I just held you for an hour, sheesh. And two weeks ago, I just got mad. 

I was mad because all I could see was what I did for her, every day: made her meals, changed her diapers, spent time talking to her, cuddled her down for naps and bedtime, read to her while I nursed David. I knew we weren't getting as much one-on-one time as before, but hey, life wasn't so different. And she was being crazy whiny. I was hitting my breaking point - at one point, I even...yelled. 

At my low point, I was just angrily staring at her thinking, "what more could you POSSIBLY want from me??"

Deep breath.

 

We went on a short trip to Orlando last week to see my parents. On the drive I was mulling over my suddenly horrific relationship with my first-born, wondering where it all went wrong, and what exactly my angel-turned-demon child wanted from me. 

And then it hit me: she was telling me. She was telling me exactly what she needed and I was refusing to listen to her. She would say "hol' me" and I would say "not right now," since I was cleaning or cooking. She would say, "read to me!" and I would say "in a minute" because I was enjoying a few minutes of blog-reading while nursing David. She would ask "nurse me?" and I would say no, because it wasn't one of our standard nursing times before David came and I wanted her to be nursing less, not more. 

My list of priorities looked something like this: 

- David

- Tom

- household

-Zuzu

And she knew. Despite me doing so many things just as we had before, she knew I was doing them perfunctorily; I was rushing through activities to get to something else, doing them to pacify her. I was not relishing my time with her anymore - and she knew that. She was begging for more of me because I wasn't giving her any of me in the first place. 

I don't know how this happened or why, except that I'm human and concupiscence is real. In that moment, I realized I had to repent - and I did. I asked God to give me a heart for my daughter again; deep and overflowing love and compassion for her. I told Tom about all of this and we agreed we needed to be better - more self-donative, more giving, more aware of her meeting her emotional needs. 

toddler-aided selfies

We've been home for four days and she's been sick, so her neediness level has been way up. I can't say I've been perfect, but I'm definitely getting better. When I'm not better, I apologize - to my two-year-old, which is supremely humbling. Today, she kicked over a vase of flowers and scream/whined as I cleaned them up; I yelled at her. Immediately, I realized that although she wasn't right to do what she did, me having my own temper tantrum wasn't helping. I pulled her onto my lap, and said gently, I'm sorry I yelled at you. She nodded through her tears and whispered, I'm sorry I was naughty. I was startled; I hadn't asked for an apology. I forgive you, I said and she smiled up at me, I forgive you too. Then she fell asleep in my arms. 

And that's what grace looks like lately at my house.

Family love at DGO's baptism! 

Slippin' Through My Fingers

A quick update from the frozen tundra of northwest Indiana...

Zuzu continues her love for all things musical (it comes to her naturally). She memorizes most all the songs we sing and knows all of the sung parts of Mass, with the Gloria being her favorite. Lately, however, her great love is Winnie the Pooh and the attendant theme song.

When she started to sing it, she would sing "A donkey named EEEE-yore was his friend!" Instead of going down on the "eee," she went up -WAY up! Shouting his name out of key. I loved it, it was precious, and we said to each other, we really ought to record that yes we should, as we went along with our days.

And then, just like that, she stopped and started singing it correctly. Even when I intentionally sing it in her old way, she sticks to the 'right' way. No amount of cajoling brings back that joyful abandoning of the written music. It breaks my heart a little - this smallest growing-up sign, this very tiny blip on her developmental phases. It's like this every second, learning something, learning it better, mastering it, moving on - and I'm just watching, trying to keep up with all the wonder and joy of her growing up.

This is the strained necessity of motherhood: the quiet witnessing and keeping in our hearts of all the beauty of our children, while also guiding the process of their leaving us. Sometimes I wonder that women are regarded as weak, when it takes such strength to raise these babies into big people who will walk humbly with God.

Zuzu is Two-Zu

Remember when she turned one? I thought she was big then - now I look back and see a chubby baby!

But now it's been another year, full of trips and milestones.

Ireland:

Playing piggies in Galway

Foam courtesy of hot chocolate!

Time change struggles

Aruba: 

Nursing beachside

These are the macaws, "that tried to bite me!" as she'll tell anyone who will listen

Indiana:

The car show had popsicles! 

Dancing with Cousin Raf, post-Mass

Hanging with Grandma Jean, Grampy, and cousins at the car show

This year she's fallen even more in love with books (which she'll choose over movies, ice cream, or nursing), she's discovered pretend play ("I'm a cat!" or "oh babies, time to go to bed, ok wake up 'ave ice 'eeem!"), and she's become quite the mimic ("oh lorduh" thanks to Daddy, "I have a tummy ache" thanks to my morning sickness complaints). 

I realize now how dangerous it'd be for her to stay an only child. In truth, everything she does astounds me: listening to her play under the table, having her 'read' her books (she's memorized every one we own), having conversations with her where she speaks in full sentences. I love watching who she is becoming, seeing what interests develop, and what about the world enchants her. I love introducing her to new tastes, books, and beautiful places - what a joy it is to discover the world with her! 

We had a small family party at home yesterday, first going to the beach:

Paddle, paddle, paddle! 

with her BFF and neighbor, Macie

Then post-nap, we had presents...

a slide from Grampy and GG! Her face really lit up for this one

lots of new books from loved ones near and far

And Nemo cake!! 

She blew out her candle all on her own - but she's been practicing for months!

Low key, but fun, a day with some of the people she loves most. It was hard for me to resist going overboard - huge party! decorate house like an aquarium! buy her everything! invite everyone! - but I realized that if I want her to focus on love and celebrating the gift of life, I have to start now. Small parties are okay, when the love is so big.

As we've gone through this year as a family, I have marveled at the gift of being her mother and watching Tom be her father. We are so looking forward to another year with our little girl and seeing her become a big sister. 

Another year with our girl - what could be better than that? 

The Orams, October 2014

Wedding Song

Breaking my blogging silence to chime in on Grace's wedding song link-up...

Flower girls, anticipating the day ahead

We have been married for 2, almost 3, years now. Looking back on our wedding, I see so many signs that I was just not myself at that particular moment in my life. But one thing that stands out as something that absolutely was me, was us, is our wedding song: Umbrellas by Sleeping at Last.

I do not have the pictures of our reception on this computer...but that's okay, because I really liked the ceremony better! 

One of my favorite aspects of Tom and I's friendship, and then our courtship, was the music that traced the narrative arc of our relationship. As friends, we passed burned CDs back and forth - "check out this band" and "I love this composer." We so enjoyed sharing what we had discovered. And when our friendship deepened into romantic love, he shared with me a mixed CD I will never forget - the CD we listened to the entire summer of 2009. Each song means so much to me, but Umbrellas had a prophetic call for us both - especially the line about "we'll bring a child into this world." It spoke of all we wanted for our love - to bear witness to the beauty of each other's lives, and for that love to overflow into another person.

And it did. 

PS: Dyed my hair red. 

Guess I really am panicking over my last year in my twenties (I turn 29 on Sunday). 

Just call me 'Red.'