A Mothers Arms

Long before I first held Baby Miles, I ached to fill the void, the hollow space within my arms where I knew this child belonged. I remember being surrounded by mothers, their arms so full of life and love, and I fidgeted, trying to find something to keep my hands occupied. Well intentioned friends would often place their babies in my arms in an attempt to fill the chasm I found there. A kind gesture indeed, but one that lacked the familiarity, the sweet congruency of a mother holding her own child.

Sunday night I lay in a large king sized bed and had a hard time finding sleep. Hours earlier I had learned that my good friend Tami had lost her baby Joy. Miles stirred and cried out in his sleep, a fever disturbing his peaceful slumber. There was little I could do to comfort him other than to hold him in my arms. Rather than the usual annoyance at his inability to sleep through the night, I found grateful tears sliding down my cheeks. I held him close, his body molded against my own. In the dark I found solace in the familiar scent of his hair, his warm breath against my neck. My arms were full and yet the ache in my heart for Tami was recognizable and overwhelming. While I do not pretend to know the pain she is enduring, I understand in some small, diminutive way the emptiness she feels in her arms.

For months before I carried this boy in my arms, I carried him in my heart. He never left me and somehow, knowing he was residing there inside me, with every breath and beat of my heart, helped me to carry on. And so I hope it is with Tami. I hope she can hold Joy in her heart until she can hold her in her arms once again.

Mental Health Break

Yesterday my cute niece called me in the morning in tears. She was stressed out, overwhelmed, a bit depressed and generally feeling yucky.

She spent the day on my couch snuggling my baby. We shared a bowl of soup and People magazine.

She just needed a day to re-group. To relax and recharge. So it is with me. I am leaving this morning for my own mental health break. Somehow I know a week in the warm sunshine with a few good books, a few good meals and lots of snuggle time with my baby is just the cure I need.

Until then.

Say it Ain't So

Deep Sigh. My baby is walking. I've tried to keep him down, and have discouraged him at every turn, but alas his will has prevailed. Even with a little Benadryl in his system as evidenced in this clip, he is determined to walk..albeit a bit drunk. I hate that he is growing up. Can somebody please tell me how to stop time?

A Girls Best Friend

In her post this morning, Ceej made a reference to my diamond ring which made me laugh. My wedding ring has certainly seen better days. Today it's prongs are covered in Baby Magic remnants from Miles' morning rubdown. The white gold is tarnished and in need of polishing. The diamond struggles to sparkle through the constancy of the daily chores my hands engage in. Diapers, dishes, dinner, repeat.

I enjoyed breakfast with a few old friends celebrating a birthday. The birthday girl was off to get her diamond re-set. We talked of how that first diamond is special, of how trading it in and up seems almost sacrilege. There is a certain sentiment attached to your wedding ring that just can't be replaced by another carat.

When Tony and I were dating I spent my 23rd birthday living in Washington DC. We weren't quite ready to get engaged and yet he wanted to send me something meaningful. I was surprised to receive in the mail a small gold initial ring which he had worn as a boy. I was ready for the diamond and for a moment this simple piece of gold planted a seed of disappointment in my heart.

I later learned how his mom had tucked the ring away for safe keeping and how Tony had to do some major negotiating to reclaim this piece of his history. He told me how his mother was reluctant for him to give it to me for fear that our relationship would not last and the ring would be lost forever.

I keep that small ring tucked away in my jewelry box and in many ways it is more precious to me than the diamond Tony presented to me just a few months later. To me it represents the faith Tony had in me and in our relationship fifteen years ago. The faith he continues to display in me through dark and difficult times.

I cherish his willingness to go to bat for me against his mother's stern warning. A loyalty that has only grown stronger in the years we've been married.

I love his tender heart which still looks for small and simple ways to touch my life.

Right before Tony and I were married we met with his neighbor who was going to perform our sealing. He told us that we were richer and had more at that very moment then we would ever have in our entire lives. I remember thinking "Yeah, right! We're both in school, we can barely pay our mortgage."

So many years later I remember his words and realize just how right he was. For all the things I want for my life and for my family cannot be bought. The things that really matter are not things.