Hannah Catherine

Hannah Catherine Groves made her appearance on May 19th, 2014 at 1742, or 5:42pm.  

She is magical.

Here is how it went down:

I was quite literally driving myself crazy in the waiting room.  Every breath I took was a prayer for "the baby." Please, God, make the delivery easy.  Please be good to Colleen.  Please be with Justin.  Please help the baby transition.  Make her ("it," at that time) breathe.  Please, please, please.

And then it was time for the thank-yous.

Justin came walking slowly down the hallway.  If you know Justin, you know how big his smile is, and this was the biggest it has ever been.  His eyes were sparkling.  We hugged hard  as he said, "It was so awesome.  Come on back."

The walk down the hallways was a mile long.  By that, I mean about 35 feet.  But it felt all of a mile, and then there was Colleen, dazed, smiling...with a baby in her arms--a beautiful baby with a head full of fuzzy strawberry hair and a teeny nose and a pretty little heart-shaped mouth.  "I'm a girl baby," Colleen said softly, "my name is Hannah.  Hannah Catherine." My heart exploded.

Have you ever seen a perfect baby? Of course you have.  They are all perfect.  Each one of them.  Including this one:

Welcome to the world, sweetest Hannah.  We have been waiting so long for you! I have so many things to tell you, to show

you, to laugh with you about, but all in good time.  For now, we'll all love you and love your parents and watch as they make you a great, hopeful, beautiful life.  Happy Birthday, little girl.  The world is so happy to have you! 

(PS-I'm still your favorite.)

May 19, 2014: 1743

Loving God, hold the hands of Colleen now and keep her safe; put Your own Spirit into her very breathing and into the new baby, for whom we wait with awe and hope.  We ask you this through Christ Our Lord.

Amen.

I'm not even sure how to title this post, as the person about whom I am writing, I have not even met.  But I will soon.

As I type this, I am sitting in my little sister's labor room.  She's 10cm dilated, 100% effaced, and a +1 station.  In laymen terms, she is pretty close to pushing.

I cannot begin to relay my excitement.  I worry that I'll overstep my boundaries and forget all sense (because I do that.) But my little sister, one of my favorite people on the earth, is about to embark on my favorite journey.  My favorite job. What makes this even better is that she's going to be wonderful at it. It may become her favorite, too.

Dear Future Niece or Nephew,

I cannot begin to tell you how excited your family is to have you.  Beyond just your parents, your grandparents, your aunts, uncles, even pseudo family members have been checking in all day to check on you.  You are loved beyond measure.  (I shouldn't have to tell you this, but you should know that I'm your favorite. Already. Let's just lay that groundwork early.)

You are so lucky! Your parents have been wanting to meet you for longer than you have even existed.  Your room has been carefully prepared, your clothes washed, and I know for certain, without her telling me, that your mom has already snuck into your room late at night and tried to picture what you'll look like in the crib and what she'll look like holding you in the rocker.  

Your life is going to be good.  It already is.  And I speak for everyone you know and who love you when I say get here soon! We can't wait to meet you! 

Godspeed, little angel.

Love,

Aunt Catie

Your Favorite

5.19.14, 1641

I've moved to the waiting room and Colleen is pushing.  In no time at all, she's going to be a Mom (and Justin, of course, will be a Dad.) The reality of how quickly life is about to change for them is almost too much to handle! How did I miss this at the time I was having my own children? Ugh, hindsight. 

Colleen has been a champ.  She looks beautiful, is cheerful, talkative, winces every few minutes and keeps on chatting.  Typical Colleen. Justin could not be more relaxed...at least, outwardly.  

My mom is on her way! I can't wait to have some company here in the waiting room! (There are lots of people sitting nearby, but they are watching Daniel Tiger on a Mac and I can't hear, "Groooooooown-ups cooooome baaaaaaaack" one more time. I just can't.  Where are my ear buds?) Every single time the elevator dings, I risk giving myself whiplash trying to see who is about to get off.  

This is amazing.  It's a really, really good day. One of the best.

This story will be continued...

Coffee Date Wednesday

As I'm sitting down for my second cup of coffee this morning, the baby is sleeping and the boys are busying themselves with some homemade Popsicles.  I've got a few minutes to fill you in on the Walden family happenings, so let's do it! (Here, I'm taking an idea directly from a lovely fellow Hanoverian: a virtual [and unfortunately one-sided] coffee date for us today.)

If you were settling in on the love seat across from me, with a steamy cup of morning brew with some sugar-free Caramel Macchiato creamer, here are the topics we'd cover:

1.) We're potty-training! And we're having decent success, I'd say, for a 2.5 year-old boy.  I'd like to have him trained by next week, but that might be some wishful thinking.  Still, we'll trudge ahead and keep our fingers crossed that we'll have just one in diapers soon...a luxury we're not very accustomed to having.  (Side note: when potty training boys, if you happen to have, say, marbles around, put them up high. A diaperless boy is acutely aware of his parts, and weird things happen to the marbles.  Weird things.)

2.) Easter was a good day for us.  Easter service was gorgeous.  The incense, flowers, Holy Water...sigh.  It was beautiful.  It was a bittersweet day for us, though, as my side of the family was absent.  Not to dive right into the deep stuff, but my father had an emergency (therefore, unplanned) surgery in Arizona on Friday that shook us all deeply. He'll be there for an undisclosed period of time, so while I'm worried and sleepless and missing him, I'm also missing my mother just as much, as she flew out to be with him.  If you are a praying person, those are much appreciated. I speak for all of my siblings when I say we'd love nothing more than to get them both home.

3.) I need ideas for a four year-old's birthday.  Because, in one week my sweet little Leo will be just that.  It'll just be me and the kids, so I'm trying to come up with a super-fun day for my little guy. (We'll be at Hooters, for sure. He's already requested that. In our defense, before you judge too much, those girls really are great with the kids and, aside from some cleavage, are pretty covered.  They aren't indecent.  Swear it.)

4.) Preparations are underway for my little sister's baby shower.  Did I mention she was pregnant? She is...and due very soon.  And, God help me, I will inhale the bejeezus out of that tiny thing.  I'm unreasonably excited, both to meet my new niece/nephew and to see my sister as a mother. (She's going to be great at it.)  And perhaps I can start to pay back all of the free help she's given me over the years.

5.) Finally, our Annie Bananie is nearly 8 months old.  She's crawling, two teeth, says three words, and is super-goofy.  And she loves her Dad.  Her whole face lights up when she sees him.  It's nothing short of precious.  We did finally give her some solid food on Easter, which she really seemed to enjoy, so maybe we'll do something with that.  Maybe. But, for now, she's breastfeeding with vigor again and seems very content with that.  She's a good girl. 

On that note, it's time to tend to the sticky mess in the kitchen.  And maybe put on real pants.

Yesterday, I made a mistake that cost me a lot of time.  And discomfort.  And some blood.  And now, as I type this, I am listening to the sweetest baby girl cry herself to sleep because she can't breastfeed (as a direct result of my mistake) and that's all she wants to fall asleep.  And it sucks. 

I didn't do anything any-/everyone I know hasn't done.  I just happened to get a little more unlucky than some of my peers.  And that also sucks.

And, today I cried a lot.  I'm crying because I'm worried and I selfishly want things to go back to normal and to speed up this whole process, but I'm more upset (okay, maybe not more upset, but it's pretty close), that there is a wonderful and sweet woman (who I knew for all of three hours) tonight who is also worried, and feels somehow responsible, even though she did nothing wrong.  And that makes me feel worse.  Triple-suck.

It's Good Friday, and today wasn't a good day.  In fact, it was a pretty bad day.  But, if that's not enough of a reminder that it could have been worse, though, I don't know what is.

Chins up!

Tomorrow will be a brand new day.  And we'll start all over again, if you'll forgive my somewhat-vague blog post.  (And if your weekend kind of got off to a craptastic start, as ours did, let's take a moment to take a big, deep, breath together and start this circus show all over.)

Happy Easter, friends and family!  May your weekends be as joyful as I hope ours is!

...And then one day, the sweetest baby girl we have officially began to crawl. 

H.B.T.M.

Today was my 34th birthday.  It's also the last year that I will be younger than my mom.  (Not really, of course, but the first time I remember knowing how old my mom was, she was 35. In my young, impressionable, 9 year-old mind, she was forever immortalized as a 35 year-old woman.)

For the 6th year in a row, I didn't get to spend my actual birthday with my husband, but that's not so bad anymore.  It's bummer, yes, but we work around it.  What's more important to note is what I did do today...because it really couldn't have been a better one.

Today, I did absolutely everything I wanted.  

I woke up an hour early, showered, did my face and hair, and drank piping hot coffee all by myself.

I made pancakes!

I wore sparkly jewelry because...why not?

I cleaned this house from top to bottom.  I mean, all the laundry is done and the walls are clean. (As clean as they are going to be, at least.  Some tiny boy at some point found a highlighter, which, to be positive, is better than a Sharpie.)

I got a manicure.  Well, I gave myself a manicure.  Same thing.

I ate a gourmet meal (provided by my mother).  Lobster roll and key lime pie? I mean, come on.  That ranks pretty high on the Perfect Meals for the First Day of Spring list.

I got flowers (x3)!

I made a protein shake in my new blender! (Omg, I really am old.  Because this is a birthday highlight.  And I'm not at all embarrassed.)

I am, at this very moment, enjoying a lovely glass of wine.  It won't be my last.

In a few moments, I'm going to take a hot, steamy, Epsom salt bath.

So, yes, my birthday was simple.  But it was also simply awesome.  I mean that.  I don't mind getting  older one single bit because 1.) I don't actually feel old and 2.) my life just gets better each year.  Eh, I have some tendonitis now and those fine lines around my eyes aren't quite "fine" anymore.  My circle of friends is a bit smaller.  My bright freckles have faded.  I worry a lot.  But I like where I'm heading. I have tendonitis from picking up my beautiful children. The lines around my eyes are from good times that I have had.  The friends I have are ones who know the good, bad, and ugly of me.  Nobody needs freckles.  I worry because I have a lot of people to worry about.  I love where I am in life.  I love the anticipation of where I'm going.  I love the ordinary, not-terribly-exciting business of being a mother, a wife.  I love my life, all thirty-four years of it.  

Shortly after Adam and I got engaged, I turned 26. I remember telling my sister on my birthday that year that it just didn't feel like a regular birthday.  She said, "That's probably because you already have everything you ever wanted."  Yes.  That's where I am at...again...at 34. Job, kids, marriage, family, social life, etc.  I'm where I should be. I couldn't ask for more.  And to those of you who play a big or a small role in the happiness of our lives, thank you. If you're thinking, "Does she mean me?" I assure you that I do.

Cheers to the next 34! 

Happy birthday to me.  Happy, happy indeed. 

Tonight, I go to bed a thirty-three year-old. Not only will I wake up a whole year older tomorrow, but one of my best friends will have welcomed her third baby. And it's the first day of Spring. I bet it's going to be one pretty wonderful day. 

Goodnight. Sweet dreams. 

Irish...Teeth?

May the luck o' the Irish bless this beautiful baby, as it did today with the sprouting of her very first tooth. (This has to be a good omen, right?)

My Boys--A Tale of Appreciation

If you're not feeling especially warm-and-fuzzy today, proceed with caution. 

Today, I was watching my kids play outside. Sweet Annie was in the warm living room squealing about the doll that her Aunt Katie gave her for Christmas, but the boys...the boys...they were hamming it up in the snow.  And they were incredible.

I watched them...really watched them, and I saw that great big vein in Patrick's forehead pop out when he laughed so hard, I thought he would stroke.  I saw the intensity in Hatch's face when he was determined to ride his bike in the snow.  I saw the flash of Leo's eyes when he saw that snowball coming and ducked.  I saw the tears form when he wasn't fast enough.  I saw the tears on Patrick's face when he realized what he did.  I saw the boys.  I saw them as boys. And it was amazing.

These boys aren't just little guys I manage.  They feel things I don't control.  They do things I don't want them to do.  They are creative and intuitive  and clever  and sensitive.  They are all these things I never thought they would be.  Because I never taught them that.  But they are because they are, which is even more impressive.

I love being the mother of boys.  Even now, having a daughter, I really appreciate the difference between the two (although her uniquity and beauty is also in a class of its own.) Boys are pretty straight-forward and their needs are fairly basic, but they aren't always as simple and easy-to-raise as one might lead you to believe.  Sometimes, they really are complex.  (Now, they give love and affection without stipulation or reservation, and, for that, I am grateful.) 

Being the mother of boys: it means knowing they will get hurt and finding peace with that.  It means giving them the freedom to explore and to learn and not pushing your own limits on them.  It means understanding that the penis is probably going to be their favorite toy...from toddlers to adults.  (And it means being comfortable saying the word "penis" at least five times a day.)  It means appreciating the beauty that they are.  They aren't pearls and tutus, but raw, loving, explorative beauty and that is kind of wonderful.  They. Are. Magical. Seriously. If you think about the amount of self-control we require from our boys, you have to agree with me on that. 

Boys...my boys...all boys.  They are incredible little people.  They are smelly  and gross  and way too concerned with who will be tackled next, but there aren't better people I want to raise. Or, to be fair, better people I sometimes want to tackle myself.  

If I could freeze you right now, just this way, I would. Stay good, sweet boys. Stay good.