Thankful...

This time of the year is sentimental for everyone. But it's really not uncommon to see me with tears in my eyes during the holiday season. It holds so much emotion.

I spent too many years sad at Christmas. I was always thankful for my family, my husband, the roof over my head, the food on our table and health. And I always knew that all of that is SO much more than so many people have. But at Christmas, there are reminders everywhere of children. They line up for Santa at the mall. They appear in sentimental commercials where they innocently sneak down the stairs to wait for Santa. They are adorable in the church Christmas Eve pageant. And our home was deafeningly quiet on Christmas morning. It was hard to be happy at a time when everywhere I turned I was reminded of the one thing that was missing. All I could do was wonder if it would ever be my turn to hold a tiny hand in the line for Santa; to make angel wings for the Christmas Eve pageant; to hear my child's laughter on Christmas morning.

And then three years ago on December 7, in a lab in North Carolina, 13 embryos came to be. Five days on December 12, three of them were placed back in my uterus. And five days before Christmas, my husband (who fielded all phone calls from the doctor to save me from hearing bad news from a stranger) told me that I was pregnant. Not for the first time. But for the first time the numbers looked very promising. The day before Christmas Eve he told me that the numbers were rising perfectly. By all indications, everything looked promising. And so for the first time ever on Christmas 2005, not even 5 weeks pregnant, I allowed myself to dream. One year later, on Christmas morning 2006, I had in my arms the most precious gift God can give. My infant son, perfect and healthy. And the memory of the prior Christmases, so filled with grief and longing, so filled with terrified hope, were as vivid as ever. The memory of pain will be with me forever, but the pain itself is gone. Now my Christmases include holding a tiny hand in the line for Santa, dressing my beautiful (yes, I am biased, but he seriously is) son in his Christmas best for Christmas Eve church and hearing his little feet pitter patter around to look at his presents on Christmas morning. And it seems as if next year we will add another little one to the mix.

So this season holds for me the memory of past hurt, the memory of desperate hope, and now a level of gratitude that can never be expressed with my feeble writing. Thankful... yes. So very, very thankful.

A New Day

It is gorgeous here. The weather is unseasonably warm (oh, who am I kidding... not really unseasonable for Texas), but not hot. The sky is that gorgeous deep blue of a clear autumn day and white clouds are floating in the sky. May sound idyllic and contrived, but it isn't. That's what sort of day it is. And it fits my mood to a T. I feel happy, peaceful, sunny and idyllic. I feel hopeful and excited. I feel patriotic and proud. I knew I wanted him to win. I voted for him. But I didn't realize how badly I wanted it until I woke up this morning feeling every happy emotion I can conjure. I am inspired. WE are inspired. I am ready. WE are ready. My son will never know a day when there was no way a minority could hold the highest office in the land. He will never think it odd that the children in the White House aren't white. It's not often that a parent is glad that things are the way they are now rather than wishing that they were like they used to be. But this is one of those times. I am so proud of this country. I am so proud to be an American (cue Lee Greenwood). I feel like standing on my roof today and cheering (which, unfortunately in my neck of the woods would probably result in me a-gettin' lynched by an angry mob). I feel light and free. Yes, we can. And yes, we did. And I for one think it's going to be a great four years.

"Penis is crying"

This is what my son said to me tonight. I'm not sure of he was referring to the fact that he'd just peed in the shower or if his penis was just feeling a little sad (it happens), but for whatever reason penis was crying.

One of the joys of living with a toddler is getting a glimpse into their view of the world. Today he told me that he wanted to go up into the clouds. When I asked him how we'd get there he said, "Take big steps." The he decided that there was a doggie in the clouds that needed feeding, so he started throwing imaginary food up into the sky. After his shower tonight he informed me that his shoes were tired. I love hearing his take on things. He is surprising. And creative. And funny. And lately, cranky. But we can overlook that for all the other things. Two is tough. And so very fun.

So, this baby. It's another little IVF miracle. It was an abysmal cycle and I don't think anyone expected it to work, least of all me. But, here I am. Fourteen weeks pregnant. I believe in God and I thank Him nightly because this one sure shouldn't have happened. It didn't go well at first. There was a hemorrhage between the baby's sack and my uterus, but hopefully that is resolving. Hopefully the next 26 weeks will pass with a live and healthy baby being born uneventfully at the end. And if that happens, I plan to close my uterus for business forever.

Lucas, who has absolutely no concept of what it all means (and how can he, really... when we ourselves had no idea when we brought him home?), has taken it all in stride. He points at my tummy when asked where the baby is. He answers "Quatro" when asked what we will name the baby. We're not sure why he chose the name Quatro, but it seems fitting for the fourth member of our family. He's probably a genius.

So. Crying penises. Hungry dogs in the sky. Baby in belly. Just another boring day.