You are my sunshine

My dear sweet Anna,

Here we are, just a few short days from your first birthday, and I am overcome with a bittersweet sadness that your first year has slipped by.  You came into this world quietly, and so quickly after your arrival I felt like my life was full of so much noise.  So much emotion, so much chaos, so much, so much, so much.   And so I turned to you, hugged you close, and escaped to moments of sweetly snuggling you.  While it’s true you needed me to survive (I was your only food source for a while there), I think it’s safe to say that I needed you.  You were my security blanket and you gave me solace in your little baby smiles, squeaks, and squeals.  Anna, you are without a doubt the easiest baby this little Judy family has had.  I often say, God gave me an easy baby because He knew I couldn’t handle anything other than that this year.  But really, God knew what was coming, and He gave me you.  He knows what we need.

I may not have recorded all the exact moments of each milestone this year.  Your stats from each check up are buried somewhere in the stash of papers shoved into your (currently empty) baby book.   Your sitting, standing, and crawling dates are tangled in the depths of my tired brain.  I may not have written it all down, but I was there.   I watched it all and experienced so much joy watching you grow from teensy, sleepy newborn to chubby, noisy, on the verge of toddling little Anna (who is currently standing at the train table, pointing at me, and yelling “Daahhhhhh!”).  Love you, banana girl.  You are my sunshine. 

*Photos taken in May 2013*

Spring fever

Yes, I realize at this point this blog is merely becoming a collection of photos of our children.  No, I do not care.  There are plenty of times where I have thoughts I want to share on here.  But they aren't always fully formulated with a clear resolution and it seems weird to just type up a bunch of half thoughts.  And really, while I enjoy writing, it takes a lot for me to focus.  And during the time that I am writing, I'm usually feeling frustrated that the kids need to eat, talk, have help on the potty, interact, blah blah blah.  Here you have it-- cute kids, cute pictures.  

 I found my feet!

 Anna's first attempt at "solids."  Not impressed.  

I love watching these two play on this little bridge in the backyard.  I often want to join them, but then I remember how much value there is in their brother/sister time together as well. 

 Leah likes to get fancied up at all times. 

 Anna was outside, helping her Daddy brew a beer.  Notice how early in the spring this was, based on the tiny leaves on the trees. 

 Our annual tadpole collection.  (Quickly followed by our annual tadpole release a few weeks later.) 

In this picture you can see Leah still has a few sores around her mouth.  After a few days of 105+ temperatures, our first ER visit, followed by almost 2 weeks of swollen gums and extremely painful mouth sores, she finally started to get better again.  Our little monkeys have always been fairly healthy, and it was tough to see her struggle for so long.  We're thankful to have a great pediatrician who called us regularly to check on her, an awesome children's hospital so close to our house, and a huge backyard to run around in when you are feeling well enough to play, but are still too contagious to play with friends!

Happy 3rd birthday, Sweet Boy

My little man turned 3 this past March.  We didn't do a big party-- just a few family members.  I think last year's 2nd birthday bash exhausted us all, so we vowed to keep all celebrations low-key from here on out.  

 Isaac's in a bit of a dinosaur phase, so here was my best attempt at a T-rex cake.  I'm not gonna lie-- it was pretty delicious. 

This little guy-- I don't even know what to say about him.  He is so laid back and easy and whatever about pretty much everything that in a house full of otherwise more demanding people (ahem: girls), well, he tends to get overlooked.  I like to think that he is going to make an amazing husband for a very lucky woman one day.  

A new scooter!!  Which Leah quickly took over.

Bed head at the breakfast table while he opens presents on his actual birthday morning. 

Some photos of the sweeties

Since it's been a while, I figured I'd jump back in by just showing some photos.  Here are some from January  and February.   Apparently, Anna's not a newborn anymore! 

 Miss Sparkle-eyes

It is impossible not to kiss on those sweet squishy cheeks. 

I rarely get to see this girl sit still.  Which is why capturing her asleep is so precious to me. 

One of Isaac's favorite things is to sit on this step and wave goodbye to Jared every single morning.  This picture was taken when it was about 30 degrees outside.  Ridiculous.  And adorable.

 Another sweet sleeping beauty.

One of her earliest attempts at "sitting"... she's working the tripod sit.  (Note the props around her.  I'm pretty sure she fell forward about 3 seconds after this picture.  Oops.) 

Gracious Birth

It’s true what they say about the third child.  Being a third child myself, I remember looking through my baby photo album and feeling jipped over the lack of photos in comparison to my two older siblings.  And only about 50% of the pictures in my album were of me alone; the other half were photos of me with my brother or sister.  Whose album is this anyway?!?! Well, as a parent of three children, I can now attest to the fact that having fewer photos and less of a to-do over your arrival does not in any way mean you are loved any less.   

When Leah was born, we posted photos to the blog from the hospital room a mere few hours after she was born.  Isaac’s photos were put up a day after his arrival.  And here we are, on December 6^th with a 2 month old baby in our hands.   So, it is without further ado that I introduce you all to Anna Noel, our newest family member who joined our world on October 5^th.   (Anna, should you read this when you are older, please don’t be offended.   Life has been tumultuous.  You will understand.) 

 Just hatched.  And still not so happy about it.

                                                An hour later, feeling a bit more content.

When our fourth baby arrives, we *might* tell you about it.  (And no, fourth baby is not “in the works” yet, folks.   We are just hopeful we will be blessed with another little one… one day.) 

Anna’s due date was October 16, but thankfully, she was ready well before then.   During the wee hours of October 5^th, I randomly woke up at 2:26 am.  And there was no going back to sleep.  It’s not that my water broke, or there was any strong contraction that rousted me, but I just had a feeling.   I lay in bed for a while, trying to go back to sleep, and eventually meandered out to the couch where I drifted in and out in between some very sporadic contractions.   No biggie, I told myself, I got this.  I’d prepped for months with a hynobabies program to birth this baby naturally, and having decided to give birth at the local Birth Center, I didn’t really have any other choice.  

We took a walk that morning and while Jared and his mom fed our kids lunch, I did my own thing.  Listened to some hypnosis tracks (which weren’t working *quite* like I’d hoped), but mostly, just focused and gave myself some hardcore pep talks.  (Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.  Thank you, Coach Eric Taylor.)  I don’t know what it was, transition maybe, but shortly before 2 pm something snapped inside my head, and I remember clearly thinking, “What are we DOING here?!?!  We need to go!”   

Enter the most intense, yet miraculous, hour and a half of my life.  

We arrived at The Birth Center at 2 pm.  I started pushing at 3 pm.  And at 3:25 pm, sweet little Anna Noel graced us with her presence, where she floated up to me and I scooped her up and cradled her in my arms.  I was the first person ever to hold our baby.   No doctor, nurse, or midwife got their hands on her first.  Just me.   It may be the hormones, but I still can’t think about it without tearing up with utter joy. 

It’s funny the things I remember about it all.  I remember the soothing warmth of the water in the tub.  I remember at one point feeling as if someone was tearing my hips apart.  I remember as Anna was crowning, thinking, “I bet this would really burn if I wasn’t in the water.”  I remember feeling intense pressure with each contraction.  I remember feeling her little head, and with it, the sense of relief that I was almost there.  As with most babies, Anna’s shoulders got stuck and the midwife needed to help her out.  And I remember thinking, “Those are hands in me!”  I remember asking if she was a boy or girl, but nobody had checked yet.  So I checked myself, but I couldn't get a good look, and it just didn't seem that important at that moment.  But mostly I remember seeing that tiny little body in the water right before I scooped her up and thinking, “We did it.  Thank you, Lord.”

Throughout it all I never felt unbearable pain, discouragement, or like I couldn’t go on.   (And that, I attribute to Hynobabies.  Seriously ladies, give this program a whirl.)   It was hard.  It was intense.  It was amazing.  And undoubtedly, the most worthwhile thing I’ve ever worked for.   

I should have known that would be the case.  After all, Anna Noel, a name we’d picked out years ago, means “gracious birth”.  How could I expect anything different? 

And now she’s here, and she’s perfect.   She looks mostly like Leah, but I see Isaac in her too.  She eats well, sleeps well, and is just generally mild-mannered as far as babies go.  Her biggest fault, if you could even call it that, is that she wants to be held to fall asleep most of the time, which requires me to sit with her rather than do chores around the house.   And you know what?  Perhaps that’s just God’s way of saying, “Sit, Gina.  Rest.  Delight in your child.”    

Don’t mind if I do. 

He gives and takes away

I’ve opened up this document and stared at a blank page with a blinking cursor on more than one occasion.   And yet I’ve struggled to actually put anything down.   I guess today I’m feeling bold enough to try.

October 2012 was undoubtedly a month I will never forget.   It began with the most amazing, joyful experience of my life; I gave birth to Anna Noel on October 5^th.   Less than 3 weeks later, on October 25^th, I lost my mom.   Most of you know the story— when Anna was 11 days old, my mom went into cardiac arrest at her doctor’s appointment.   Though the doctors were able to get her pulse back, they were never able to bring HER back.  And so our family had to make a decision that I pray most people don’t have to make.   Despite my countless prayers to give us just a little more time, God made it clear that He wanted her with Him. 

My mom, as most of you know, has been battling breast cancer for the past 8 years.   And when I say battling, I mean standing on the front lines, furiously wielding her sword and shield.  Multiple surgeries, countless (endless) rounds of chemo, medications, doctors, hospitals, etc.  And she did it all with little complaint even though she was in almost constant pain.  She was a warrior, but even the fiercest warriors can only take so much chemo before their heart says, ‘enough’.  She is, without a doubt, my hero. 

We came home from Texas to a whole pile of mail.  I have to say, it is utterly overwhelming to have a stack of cards awaiting you—half of which are congratulating you on the birth of your new baby girl, and the other half are expressing their sorrow on the loss of your mother.  Talk about contrasting messages.

At this point, I’m riding on an emotional rollercoaster that is constantly teetering back and forth from new baby bliss to extremely aching heart.   For the sake of those around me, I try to keep it in check.  In the moments that I feel joyful (because let’s be honest, I have a lot to be joyful for), I also feel guilty for feeling anything other than sorrow.  But I’m mostly irritated, frustrated, and exhausted, and feeling like I’m trying to hold it together by just a few tenuous threads.

I didn’t talk to my mom daily, and since we lived almost 1500 miles away from each other, we only saw each other but a few times a year.  And so I guess I was hoping that maybe it would be easier once I got back home.   For the record, it’s not.  I never realized how much I thought to call her during the day until I wasn’t able to call her anymore.  Like when we had our first snow flurries last week, when Leah tried to tell Isaac about heaven ("Isaac, do you know where Tyrone [Her fish that died after one measly month.] is?"  "Yeah, he's in da dirt."), and when sweet little Anna gave me her first smile. 

I dream about my mom almost every night.   And I feel thankful for the fact that in my dreams, my mom is exactly like she was before she had cancer—vibrant, throwing her head back in laughter, and wonderfully alive.   I like to think this is God’s way of showing me how she is now in heaven.   When I wake up in the morning, I feel the ache all over again when I realize that dreams are the only way we’ll get to spend time together anymore.  And on the nights when I don’t dream of her, I wake up panicked, wondering if I’m losing her already.   

On the day my mom went in to her radiation appointment, she dropped an anniversary card for Jared and I in the mail.  The card says this, “May your memories be warm ones.  May your cares today be few.  May your moments all be happy.  May your joy last all year through. “  Little did she know how fitting those words would be for the situation at hand. 

I wish I could end this post with some sort of sweet wrap up of how every day is easier.   How I see the light at the end of the tunnel.  Etc etc.   Instead, I’ll just leave you with the lyrics to a song, which has been running through my head lately and which I've never fully connected with until now.  After all, I can't imagine a better example of the phrase, "You give and take away."  In my best moments, I find the lyrics to be true.   And in my not so great moments?  Well, I’m still working on that.   

“Blessed be Your name

When the sun's shining down on me

When the world's 'all as it should be'

Blessed be Your name

Blessed be Your name

On the road marked with suffering

Though there's pain in the offering

Blessed be Your name

Every blessing You pour out

I'll turn back to praise

When the darkness closes in, Lord

Still I will say

Blessed be the name of the Lord

Blessed be Your name

Blessed be the name of the Lord

Blessed be Your glorious name

You give and take away

You give and take away

My heart will choose to say

Lord, blessed be Your name”

Out of sorts

One day, when my head and my heart stop being so jumbled, I will post on here again.  And in the mean time?  Just remember that patience is a virtue.