Life Lately

I just knew when in the depths of infertility that I would still blog if ever there was a post-infertility chapter of life. I think for many infertility bloggers, the urge to blog somehow dissolves after kids. There was this need, this burden to get it all out, to write it all down, to share when in the midst of the waiting. And then of course, there's the obvious excuse that life is just a lot more busy once kids enter the picture. I have sort of fallen captive to both scenarios.

This year has been hard. Really, really hard. One of the hardest years of my life, and for those who lived through the infertility years with me, you know that's saying something. It seems that I would have a lot to write about in such circumstances, but for whatever reason, the motivation is just difficult to find. Yes, I'm tired. Yes, I want to simply zone out and watch Gilmore Girls the moment my high-energy little buddy succumbs to sleep. However, to a large degree, the lack of blogging has more to do with a lack of words. I don't even know what to say. How much to share. I still have a desire to adopt again, and on some level I'm afraid to share something that might deter someone from approving us for the adoption process again should they find this blog, so it has been hard to know how much and what to share.

For one, this year has been filled to the brim and overflowing with anxiety. I have dealt with anxiety my whole life, on and off. Some seasons have been worse than others (I'm looking at you middle school years). I have previously experienced panic attacks and knew that anxiety could be pretty awful. I have been on and off of various medications throughout my life since I was about 11 years-old, so I've experienced that process as well. Most of my anxiety was during my preteen and teen years, but I have certainly had bouts with the beast as an adult too. Nothing, and I do mean nothing I had previously experienced prepared me for this year. Anxiety roared into my life like a mighty lion and set up camp. I quickly ran for medication realizing early on that this was not something I would be able to master on my own. Unfortunately, for the first time in my adult life, medication has barely taken the edge off. I've entered into the world of counseling again, and I'm hopeful that there is an after to this episode of intense anxiety, but so far, I'm still stuck smack dab in the middle of it.

In addition, a couple of months ago, my father passed away very unexpectedly. You won't find mention of my father much on this blog. We had a very difficult relationship and much of our past was tumultuous to say the least. However, it is never easy to lose a parent and these last months have been hard on so many different levels. As his only legal child (my brother is his step-son), I have taken on the responsibility of administering his estate. Sheesh. People, hear my plea: Get your crap together. Get a will. Get it sent through probate court. Let multiple people know where you keep copies of your will. Get life insurance. And if you give a flying-flip about what happens to your body when you die, make sure that it's written down and that people know about it. If you have some of that junk, but you haven't updated it in a while, GO UPDATE IT. And for the love of all things holy, help your parents get their junk together. Do not allow your parents to leave you a mess. Do not leave the people you love with a mess. Get your stuff in order.

Between the anxiety of, well my very special brain, and the stress of losing my dad and dealing with his estate, the last few months have just been hard. But there's a lot of really, really, good stuff too. Garrison is almost  22 months old. That's just too mind boggling to really understand at this point. It dawned on me last week that I probably need to start thinking about a birthday party in the next few weeks. But didn't we just have one? It seems particularly unreal to think of him as a two-year-old.

"I eat."

He is BURSTING at the seems with life and opinions. His language has exploded over the last couple of months, so now he has the ability to share much of this with us and it's typically just the funniest thing you've ever heard. He's EXHAUSTING at this age. I have absolutely no idea how his teachers at daycare don't simply drop at the end of the day because I'm so ready for bed the minute his head hits the mattress. I think a large part of his exhaustiveness, at least to me, is his extroverted nature. I am, and will always be, introverted to the depths of my being. I can sit calmly and quietly for long stretches of time and say nothing...I'm not unhappy or sad; I'm resting and soaking in the quiet and stillness. There is no quiet or stillness with Garrison. I assume that's mostly true with any toddler, but he seems to be particularly so. He is on the go--constant movement, constant noise--from the moment he wakes up until he simply drops. The moment he's asleep I just want to sit in the quiet and breathe. However, in the midst of all of the movement and noise, there's a whole lot of love. He's learned to give really good hugs and he gives the sweetest little kisses you've ever seen (it's not really a kiss, but more of a touching of cheeks).

"Mommm, stop taking photos for my senior yearbook already."

He continues to have big, big feelings just as he did when he was a baby. Things are either the best-thing-ever or absolutely the saddest-most-miserable-most-unacceptable-thing-ever. There is absolutely no in between. With opinions like that, you can imagine that his love and dedication to the things that he enjoys is intense. He currently loves his "bee-dee," or his word for blanket. Thus far, he's impartial to which blanket...he wants ALL the blankets. Folding laundry is a joke. He steals every single dadgum blanket out of the pile before I get a chance to hide them. He also LOVES dogs. All dogs. Big ones. Small ones. Mean ones. Old ones. He has never met a dog he didn't love and his love is shown by simply trying to smother the dog in hugs of adoration.

"Outside" is his most favorite place in the whole world.

He is still a tiny little nugget. At his most recent sick visit, he was 21 lbs 10 oz with clothes and boots on, so I'm guessing he's barely 21 pounds. He's starting to get a little picky with food. He's not a fan of many meats these days and he's starting to turn his nose up at some veggies. His favorite food is by far cheese. That's what he asks for first thing every morning. "Eat! Eat! Cheese!" Bless him. So not my biological kid. I hate cheese and he eats it by the fistful. We'll definitely be adding Pediasure back into his diet for the winter to help offset all the sick days. He's also very particular about the temperature of his food. The range of room temperature to cold is acceptable. Anything approaching lukewarm will get a loud exclamation of "hot" and a refusal to try another bite for a good five minutes. Some days I wonder why we cook food at all. He'd prefer leftovers straight out of the fridge.

All in all, I continue to be blessed beyond my wildest dreams. Even in the midst of the really hard parts, life is sweet. My boys are good to me and I'm forever thankful that I get to do this twisty-turny, broken thing called life with them.

Loving the Life I Didn't Choose

For the last five years I've had a pumpkin spice latte from Starbucks during early September. In 2011, it was the day I received my first and only positive pregnancy test and I felt so guilty for the caffeine as 1,000 what-ifs ran through my devastated mind. For the next four years I drank that latte in memory of what might have been. It was a way to pause and remember my first child who was shed from my body far too soon.

This year, I didn't do that. In fact, I barely recognized that the date had come and gone. I was playing on the beach with my son. Our vacation was glorious and deserves a whole post to itself (that I might get together by Christmas). But it was a poignant moment for me to realize that I was too busy loving the life before me to remember the life I wanted. 

I've always struggled with the idea of being thankful for hard things. Well, that's not true. It's a specific hard thing. It's death. To be thankful for death is just a hard concept for me to grasp, especially the death of a child, be they born or still in the womb. Throughout the years, I would hear people say, "I'm so thankful things worked out this way. Otherwise, I wouldn't have (fill in the blank)."  That has always been hard for me to process. To be thankful for the miscarriage or stillbirth of one child which allowed you to later have a different child. I've always clung to my theory of both. I've said I want both. I've refused to be thankful for that first miscarriage even though it eventually led me to my son. I rationalize that I would have wanted both. I would have wanted that first child (and each of the others) and I would also want my son. But if I'm honest with myself, it's very, very, very unlikely that I would have Garrison if I had given birth in May 2012 and everything had gone according to my plan. Sure, we always said we'd like to adopt. But the adoption plan was never for a blue-eyed infant from Florida four years later. 

How do you love the life you didn't chose? For a long time, that was really, really hard for me. There were years where I simply didn't like my life. Sure I was thankful that I was alive, but actually like my life? It was too easy too look around and say, "that is the life I want." I wanted the life I had planned. I couldn't see the possibility of anything good, let alone better. I've learned to love this life I didn't chose. And not in a "this is the best I can hope for," or Plan B kind of way, but in a "I couldn't have dreamed it better" kind of way.

But therein lies this tension. Garrison is mine and I am his because of "unfair" circumstances. Infertility ran over my life like a runaway train and I screamed about the unfairness through the whole journey. My son doesn't know this yet, but his circumstances were unfair too. It's weird to mourn the loss and pain while simultaneously being incredibly grateful that we're all together because of it. It's an odd thing to wish I could remove the pain and hurt that these years have caused while recognizing that without this pain and hurt, the journey would not have led us together. It's weird to think that I would have missed him if I'd gotten what I wanted all those years ago. But admitting I prefer this life, feels like saying I'm glad my first children died. You see? There's this tension. 

I have no neat bow to tie all of this up. No words of wisdom. No answer to the tension. All I can leave us with is this quote from a really fantastic book that I've been reading and rereading, trying to soak in as much as possible from a fellow infertility survivor. Melanie Dale, author of It's Not Fair writes this, "after years of telling God it's not fair, I can now say that I'm grateful for my struggle. I would never tell someone else to be grateful for theirs. We can't tell people in pain to be grateful. That would be the highest cruelty. But over time, after having raw conversations with God and acknowledging the life unfolding around me, I see the beauty of his creation. It's not fair. It's different than fair." So while I learn to live with this tension of desperately loving this life I didn't chose, while mourning the life I thought I wanted, all I can say is I'm grateful. Oh so very grateful for a God who holds this tension with me and leads my family on this journey with love and compassion, strength and security. I'm thankful for the journey and thankful for the one who journeys with me.

These Are the Best of Days

Good grief. Worst blogger of the century. Garrison is 15 16 months and with that comes so. much. trouble. I shudder to think of this kid at 15. He is a hot mess going 100 miles per hour from 7:30 a.m. until he crashes at 8:00 p.m. He has become more independent and willing to leave my side over the last few months as long as I appear to be thoroughly engrossed in whatever he is doing. The moment I try to be productive he absolutely looses it. I can sit ten feet away from him as long as I'm not doing anything, but try to fold clothes or work on my laptop and homeboy goes bonkers. I have so much work to do outside of my regular full-time job, but I can't get any of it done until he goes to bed or he literally tries to break my laptop in his efforts to remove the distraction. In light of that, blogging is just slipping further and further down the list of things to do.

With all of that said, fourteen and fifteen months have absolutely been my very favorite months. And that's actually saying a lot as month fourteen was filled to the brim with illness. Bless his poor pitiful heart, but somehow that kid had a pretty massive eczema flare, a yeast infection, a staph infection, and a double ear infection all at once. HOW DOES THAT HAPPEN? I took him in for some SERIOUS diaper rash after calling the nurses all week and trying every homemade concoction they could come up with. I obviously felt like the WORST mother in the history of the world to hear that he had all of that going on. I was so embarrassed! To add insult to injury, the very next day he came down with Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease which he promptly shared with me five days later. Ughhhhhh. However, despite some serious illnesses all at once, this age is just so dang fun.

Picking strawberries.

Waiting for daddy to come home and fix dinner is hard,
but it gives us time to SWING!

I feel like developmentally, he has exploded within the last few months. He has a BIG personality. Garrison loves trouble. Loves it. If you call out his name (Gar-ris-sonnnn) as he's about to do something he shouldn't (eat dog food, open the trash can, eat dog food, pull on power cords, eat dog foot), he'll typically stop long enough to turn around and look at you, smile a SUPER mischievous grin, and then run ten times faster towards the object of his desire. When we get really firm with a loud "Garrison, NO!" he then instantly falls to the ground, face first, and screams and cries even kicks his legs. It's pretty dramatic. It's a toss up between which is worse...letting him get away with whatever form of trouble he's got his eye on or listening to the temper tantrum. He definitely understands the concept of no, but listening and obeying are just so dang hard right now.

He got his own chair for his birthday.
He loves to climb up by himself and "read."

Llama llama red pajama, do not holler at your mama!

His vocabulary is getting much bigger right now. He's definitely got "no," "dog," "out," "go," and "ball" mastered in English. In sign language he's got "eat," "more," and "all done." Now, the sign for "all done" is his absolute favorite. He uses it for everything. When we're a quarter of the way through getting dressed, he'll tell me he's all done. No, actually bud, you have one arm and a head through your shirt. You are definitely not all done. When I've unsnapped two snaps of his cloth diaper (and, therefore, barely started changing him), he'll tell me he's all done. At daycare, there are simply too many things to see and do to be bothered with breakfast lately. Once I plop his little butt in the chair, he'll immediately tell me he's all done while he eyes a favorite toy. An even better use of the sign is in combination with the sign for more. When he really wants to confuse the crap out of me, he'll sign all done at the dinner table. I'll ask him to confirm, which he will...and then he'll promptly follow it with the sign for more. For the love. WHICH IS IT?!?! And because Garrison is an over achiever, he's working on Spanish at the same time as English and ASL. So far he has agua down. He constantly walks around the house yelling "agua" at me. It took me a while to figure out what he meant, but eventually after he screamed it a good dozen times every time I opened the fridge, I finally put two and two together. It's highly possible that he's shouting a good many other Spanish words at me, but as neither I nor Sam speak a lick of Spanish, his poor, dumb parents are clueless.

BALL!

Garrison completed "swim lessons" a few weeks ago. I put that in quotes because the class was about half getting the babies used to the freezing cold water and half making mama work out...not the point of swim lessons at all! Basically swim lessons have given Garrison zero fear of the water as well as zero knowledge about water safety. It's a super terrifying combination. I go back and forth between loving the fact that we have a pool in our backyard and being so flipping terrified that I want to rip it out. Garrison likes the water, but he has an extremely short attention span. We can keep him in the water a little longer with the presence of pool noodles, but after about 10 minutes he's ready to go explore. We have our first family beach vacation coming up Labor Day weekend...I can already tell that this is going to be quite the adventure!

Water day at daycare

For Father's Day, Garrison got his first hair cut. I was willing to let it go for quite a while, but truth be told, it wasn't turning into the hair style I imagined. The top and front of his hair grows at a fraction of the rate as the back and sides, so he was creating quite the mullet. Sam hated the mullet, so they went together to get their hair cut. It was super sweet and Garrison did a great job. My heart only broke a little and I didn't cry, so I feel pretty great about it.

First hair cut

Picnic in the front yard with mom

In other news, Garrison remains a little peanut. He's significantly smaller than his classmates that are the same age, both in height and weight. He's also significantly smaller than his classmates that are several months younger than him...sadness. He's currently wearing size 12 months, and I foresee that he'll stay in that size throughout the summer and fall. To be honest, he might still be in 12 months through the winter too. Bless him. In an effort to help keep him on/move him up the growth chart, his pediatrician recommended we try Pediasure. Thankfully, after a few tries, he's decided he likes it, and I'm already seeing an improvement. He gained a full pound since his 15 month appointment, so hopefully this trend will continue. He already has 15 teeth and his sixteenth (bottom left cuspid/canine) is slowly working its way in. I have a feeling he'll have all 16 in before he's 17 months. After that, he'll just have the two year molars and we are D.O.N.E!

Post-dinner ball throwing session

We are thoroughly enjoying summer right now, even though it is sooooo hot. We've been in the upper 90s for weeks, but I'll take it since it means lots of sunshine in the evenings when we get home and far less sickness. I know fall will be here before we know it and on its heels will likely come colds, bronchiolitis, ear infections, and more, so we're soaking up the sun and enjoying this beautiful season of life with my little love. These are the best of days.

Nurturing Nature

I was talking with a friend the other day about adoption. Specifically about adopting an infant from unfortunate circumstances (i.e. when there is substance abuse, mental health issues, domestic violence, or incarceration in one or both of the birth parents' history). She was asking if I ever thought about any "what if" type of questions when we were looking at cases while we waited. For example, a potential situation might have said that the birth mother had a history of mental illness in her family. She might have reported a previous suicide attempt, or maybe one or more of her family members suffered from depression, or maybe she listed Bipolar on her medical questionnaire. In that situation, did I ever worry that the child might have mental health issues? That was essentially her question. Or in another example, if the birth father was incarcerated and the birth mother supplied details stating that he was in jail for assault and battery, would I worry about the child growing up to be dangerous, angry, violent, etc? My response is that of course I thought about those types of things. Who wouldn't? Many of the bio sheets on potential adoption situations read like the top 100 worst things about someone. To a limited degree, I understand. Agencies and attorneys are trying to give a prospective parent all of the information so that they can make an educated decision. But honestly, I think those summaries could be a pretty crummy read about the best of us...and I guess that's kind of my point. Ultimately, I have to believe that the environment that a child grows up in can counter balance the genetic and early environmental influences (to a certain degree). Because really, isn't it the same gamble with children that are genetically related to us?

Now sure, if you come from an upper-middle class family where everyone stays married until death, no one drinks to excess, no one steps outside the confines of marriage, no one gambles, everyone graduates from college, and no one in the family has ever needed a day of counseling then, yeah, I'm sure it might be a little scary to think about a child with certain traits hardwired into their DNA. But for Sam and I, it would have been a roll of the dice no matter what.

Sure, I'd have wanted to pass on all the best DNA to a child genetically related to me. No one wants to pass on characteristics to a son or daughter that make life difficult. If it was a boy, I'd want him to have 80% of Sam's height, but he could skip that booty (because finding clothes for Sam is a nightmare). I'd want him to have our dark hair, and maybe my green eyes (because I have better eyes than Sam). I'd want him to be athletic and competitive like his dad and intelligent and an avid reader like his mom. If we had a girl, I'd want to pass along her Nana's height (because there is no need for any more girls over 5'8 in this family, and certainly not 6'4). I'd want her to inherit her father's more agile and confident characteristics and skip her mother's clumsiness. I'd want her to get her Grandma's graceful aging and her great grandmother Marguerite's sharp wit. But there are also a whole slew of things I'd really rather not pass on to my children--medical things that are common in my family like alcoholism, diabetes, deep vein thrombosis, not to mention INFERTILITY. And I would certainly never want to pass along my long-standing battle with anxiety or any other proclivity for mental health issues.

In the same way that I can't control what DNA Sam or I would pass along to a biological children, I can't control or know what DNA a set of birth parents might pass on to a child. Yes, the presence of mental health issues on either side of the family places the child at an increased risk for inheriting those mental health issues (i.e. a child of a mother who struggles with Bipolar disorder is at an increased risk for being diagnosed the with same). But it's certainly not a sure thing. No more of a guarantee than that I would end up as an alcoholic. Alcoholism is prevalent in my family. I knew that by the age of twelve, and at that age I decided under NO circumstance would I ever become one. It was simply not an option. Therefore, in my entire life, I've probably had less than 20 drinks. I can't control whether the predisposition for alcoholism or drug addiction lies dormant in my brain, but I can control whether I give that predisposition the opportunity it needs to flip the switch and take over. The choice to never do drugs (no, not even a cigarette) and to drink very, very rarely and only wisely and in complete control, has kept me far, far away from the potential for drug or alcohol addiction. There's a line in the sand and I'm back so far, I can't even see it.

Though I did not major in Psychology, I took a few courses in college. Thankfully, I learned that there are few psychologists who actually believe that development is 100% nature or 100% nurture. It's a blend. We know that heredity and environment both influence the person we become. I am proof positive of that. The anxiety and depression that I've dealt with on and off throughout my life are likely there because of genetics. However, the environment that I grew up in, the home, the generation, all of that, gave me access to counseling and medications. While none of those things remove the presence of the inherited trait, they do alter how I handle that trait and how it affects my life.

Rather than looking at any set of circumstances, be they genetic or environmental, as a defined path or obvious outcome, I like to look at them as the potential. A child with two parents who dropped out of high school may have a lower intelligence potential. But that may is important. Maybe the parents dropped out due to income...maybe they had to take care of small children, help support the family, etc. Or maybe they dropped out due to an unplanned pregnancy, drugs, or any number of unfortunate circumstances that can cause a teenager to leave school. You can't look at a fact on paper and assume that you know the correlation and causation that both let to that outcome and how that will affect the future. That child may struggle in school, but he might also excel, be excellent in science, and go on to be a neurosurgeon. In a similar way a child of parents with a long family addiction to drugs is unarguably at a higher risk for drug and alcohol addiction herself. Add in exposure to drugs or alcohol during pregnancy, and there is certainly a risk for drug and alcohol abuse later in her life. But the presence of DNA that makes a child more susceptible and exposure at a young, formative age, even in combination, are not a one way ticket to rehab. There are many, many contributing factors to the growth and development of a child, and many of those factors, an adoptive parent has some control over.

So yes, I think you think those what if questions, and then you let them go. Life and death, health and sickness, potential and limitations are far too complex for a a short bio to explain. We all spin the wheel and deal with the circumstances that come our way. Early intervention and access to medical care and health professionals is vitally important. I don't believe an adoptive parent should walk into a situation naively, but also don't think fear and a list of what ifs should 100% drive the decision to adopt a child or not. There are certain things that are just out of our control. All that we can control is what we do when those things arise.

Wonderful to be ONE

To say I'm late in getting his twelve month/one year post together would be the understatement of the century. We're two weeks shy of fourteen months. You know it's bad when your husband says, "are you ever going to get a twelve month post together?" So, yeah. I sort of have an excuse in that a week before Garrison turned one, our entire family caught the stomach bug. We were dropping like flies. Garrison, dad, mom, grandma. It was unbelievably awful. I felt like crap for over a week. The absolute worst part of the sickness was timing. One of my most favorite people in the whole world came to Atlanta all the way from Illinois. My sweet friend A over at Ms. Conceptions and I had been planning to finally meet in person for months and it all fell apart thanks to the stomach bug. I am still not over this heartbreak. Then I had a MASSIVE anxiety flare up following that, which is a post all in itself, but for another day. And to top it off, Garrison followed up the stomach-bug-of-death with a 103 degree fever, double ear infections, and brochiolitis. I have lived at the pharmacy over the last month. We just finished his THIRD round of antibiotics for the ear-infection-that-will-not-end. Needless to say, I've been running ragged just trying to keep everyone alive for a while now.

Nicknames: Bupsie, Bubs, Goobs, Goobie, Goobie Booty, Noodle, Little Love

So in love with my Little Love

Stats: I feel like these numbers are likely only slightly accurate despite having an appointment the day after his birthday as the stomach bug was long and painful. I believe we all lost our fair share of weight that week. He was 18 lbs 2.3 oz and 27.5 inches, a whopping 2.3 oz of growth in the past month, but again, I'm almost 100% sure he lost weight that week. Those numbers continue to put us off the chart in terms of height (as in less than second percentile) and between fifth and tenth percentile for weight. His pediatrician did comment that he is very bow-legged and that there are lost inch(es) in that bow, so he'll likely grow a good bit as his legs straighten out. He's still in 6-9 month clothes and size three diapers.

Finding entertainment in the unlikeliest of items.

The last weeks of his first year were also FILLED with teething. Absolutely filled to the brim. He has twelve teeth that are fully in and he's still working on (for over two months now) his thirteenth (his first canine).

Lots and lots and lots of wagon and stroller rides
as the days get warmer and the teeth got more painful.

Eating: He eats really well. As in he puts away full sized portions all the time. I have no clue why this kid is so small. He has some kind of superhuman metabolism. He can finish eating a meal and five minutes later see me eating and have a complete and total meltdown if I don't share. Goodbye ice cream. We had a good long run together. I also see sippy cups in my future as he's very interested in regular drink cups these days and I don't particularly want a diet coke addict before two.

Refried beans make for great facials and leave-in conditioners.

Sleeping: Sleep continues to be great. He's pretty consistent between 11-11.5 hours a night. He remains a crummy napper, but I will not complain as long as the nights stay gloriously peaceful.

Snuggle maps with mom in the midst of so much sickness.

Likes: His current obsessions are balls, dog food, cabinets, peek-a-boo, dog food, plastic tupperware, being outside, oh, and dog food. He also discovered Sterling's cage while he was home sick for days on end. Now he LOVES to go get in Sterling's cage and bang the door closed 8 million times. This kid really needs no toys. Toys occupy him for four seconds. Dog food on the other hand, that could give us HOURS of enjoyment.

First time at a local park. He's a fan of swings for sure!

Garrison continues to find "no" to be particularly hilarious and wonderful. He looks back, smiles, and then sprints as fast as he can towards whatever he KNOWS he's not supposed to do. I see some Happiest Toddler on the Block in my future.

Dislikes: Now, 90% of the time Garrison loves to hear "no." It's just so funny to hear mom over and over and over again! But there are those times when hearing no causes him to face-plant on the floor and burst into hysterical crying. I can see that the toddler years are going to be filled with a few tantrums.

Trying out his birthday hat for his smash cake photos...not a fan.

Looking forward to: Well, honestly, I'm looking forward to spring and summer. Less colds, germs, and general sickness and more fresh air and sunshine. I'm looking forward to swimming in our pool and longer days. I'm looking forward to lots of firsts: first words, first swim lessons, first family vacation (maybe, please).

This was as good as we got for the twelve month
photos in the midst of so much sickness.

I'm so thankful for a GLORIOUS first year with my son. He is absolutely the sweetest little love and he takes my breath away on a daily basis. It has been such a joy to be his mom and I'm so thankful for him.

Birthday Boy and his cake. So sweet.

A Birthday Blessing for My Baby Boy

Garrison,
We are so proud of you. At eleven days old, you weighed just under five pounds, and you had already proven that you were a fighter. In just one year, you've grown so much. But your growth is measured by far more than just inches and ounces. It's the growth we've seen as you become the little boy God made you to be that steals our breath away. You are so passionate. There's not one thing in life that you are indecisive about. We love this about you and we've excited to see what passions you develop in the years ahead. You are curious, adventurous, and so very, very determined. We know that God has wired you in this way because he has specific plans for you. We can't wait to watch as you discover what His plans are.
There are so many things we want for you in life. We want you to be happy and successful, but more importantly, we want you to be kind and compassionate to others, to recognize and embrace exactly who God made you to be, and above all, to LOVE Jesus. It is our desire to celebrate you and everything that is unique and special about you as we help you to discover just who God made you to be and what he wants for your life. Jesus loves you so much buddy, and it is our life's greatest joy to get to love you too.

Love always,
Mom and Dad

Pace Yourself

This post has been in the works for six months. Apparently that's how long it now takes me to think, ruminate, write, rewrite, rethink, rewrite, and edit. Blogger extraordinaire right here. For the last several months I've noticed something about myself and I've spent a few of my available moments of free brain space to think about this interesting (at least to me) thought pattern. You see, I have felt pressure, literally since the beginning of our time with Garrison to do all. the. things. There has been no "or" in my vocabulary. It's always "and." We should do this AND we should do that. We should go there AND we should go there. We need to (fill in the blank) AND we need to. Anybody else ever feel this way?

I've thought about it and thought about it and come up with a couple of ideas as to why this may be my new thought process. Firstly, there are more times than I can count where I've convinced myself that we need to X and Y "because Garrison might be our only child." Can I get an amen? It's crazy the things that I've felt pressured to do, buy, experience just because he might be our only one. Strangely enough, I don't really believe that he will be our only child. If you ask me (when I'm not freaking out about the need to do/buy/see X) I would tell you that I'm pretty confident we'll have two, maybe even three kids. However, I definitely don't know that we will have babies, so along that same vein of thought, comes "because he might be our only baby." Example number one. If you follow me on Facebook, you've likely seen that I became obsessed with photo sessions this past year. Newborn, family photos, sitting photos, standing photos, Santa photos, family photos, first birthday photos. Photo sessions with professional photographers are not cheap and this year our finances have struggled due to daycare + formula + PT and OT appointments + Garrison's surgery, and yet, I would have taken out a second mortgage to have those photos. Wise? No. But I'm terrified to look up and have missed it. He will very likely be my only newborn. There was no way in hell I was missing those insanely expensive photos. Garrison very well might be the only child that will ever learn to sit or stand or celebrate his first birthday with us and I just can't miss it.

A second idea is that I waited so long to do these things with a child, and now that I have one, it's like we must do all. the. things. RIGHT. NOW. For example, I've dreamed of taking my kid(s) to Disney World for YEARS. Like literally the greatest dream come true will be to walk my little kid(s) through the gates of the Magic Kingdom. I might just lie down on the floor and weep. I have greatly struggled with the need to take him this past year. It would have been a financial nightmare and that's about the only reason I've not gone. The fact that he wouldn't remember it, that he might sleep through half the day, that he might not be able to ride anything, and that he'd likely be scared out of his ever loving mind by all the people and characters has not deterred my desperate need for him to experience Disney. Sam has known about my love affair with Disney for years and his answer has always been "when we have kids." We've been together for almost 11 years now...that's a lot of waiting. He surprised me when we completed IVF in Jacksonville with a day trip to the Magic Kingdom because technically, we had kids (be still my heart). It was heaven, but I've still been dying to go back and see it all again. We've joked for years that because of his "rule" I'd likely try to take my six week old to Disney...well he wasn't far off. If finances hasn't stood in the way, I'd have taken that little boy to every single park. In a similar way, I need him to go to the zoo, the aquarium, go to the beach, see snow, fall in love with Harry Potter, etc and I need him to do it all NOW. It's a constant battle to remind myself that no, we do not need to fly to Colorado or drive to Kentucky to follow the snow this winter. And oh gosh Christmas. I needed to start every single Christmas tradition this year. There were a number of times that I considered giving the kid hot (mildly warm) chocolate because CHRISTMAS, you know?

And thirdly, maybe the darkest of all of the thoughts has been the discovery that I in some weird, twisted way have felt like my time with him is limited. Maybe it stems from the adoption process. The fear that any second we'd receive a call telling us to get out of the NICU and head home it was over. Or the days and nights once we were home fearing any 904 area code calls that would say bring him back to Jacksonville, his birth father is coming for him. Or maybe it stems from my gigantic, overwhelming fear of SIDS since the moment we left the hospital. Garrison was/is truthfully at a higher risk than most babies, and somehow that has manifested into this anxiety that has plagued my days and nights over these past months. I thought I would breathe much easier at six months when the risk drops significantly, and to some degree I did. I don't wake up a million times in the night to check the monitor. However, I do become paralyzed with fear, literally too afraid to even go check for fear I'l be too late, when I've slept a long stretch and he hasn't moved.

In a similar, rather depressing, Freud would have a field day train of thought, I've also noticed that for me, the monthly age recaps have felt a lot less like counting up and a lot more like counting down. One month becomes two, and two months becomes three, but in a lot of ways it feels like a slippery slide down to one year where I can't catch my breath or find a foot hold to pause for just a moment. In some ways, that count down feels like a countdown to the end. What comes after one? It's a constant struggle to remind myself that two, TWO comes after one, and there are twelve glorious months in between just like this year. That there will be plenty of time to go explore the zoo, to see Disney, to stay up past our bedtime watching movies and eating popcorn. Because he's mine. Not my borrowed son. Not my temporary son. But my real, forever and ever son. So pace yourself, Amanda, it doesn't all have to happen now, this year, or before he turns one. You've got a lifetime to fill to the brim with love and happiness.

That's where this blog post was meant to end, and then tragedy struck and all my thoughts about forever and ever were questioned. In November a precious mama that I went to high school with found out that her two year old has cancer. Ughhh. And not just any cancer but super rare, super aggressive, terrifying cancer. And then just weeks later, a fellow infertility mama lost. her. son. 13 months. You guys. I was a hot mess of terror. She did an IUI the same month I did IVF and delivered her son within days of my IVF due date. She had all of the milestones that I would have had if our IVF cycle had not ended in miscarriage. After those two events, I just couldn't post this. Because tomorrow isn't promised. Sometimes "a lifetime" isn't all that long. And I was terrified all over again. Any insight or comfort this cathartic use of writing had brought was quickly eliminated by the ugly truth that our days with our children are not promised to us.

I've spent time since then as the clock slowly ticks closer and closer to his first birthday thinking about how to process these heavy emotions and thoughts in light of the truth that my days, Sam's days, and Garrison's days are numbered and we will never know what that number is until our days are done. I still believe the encouragement to pace myself is important. We don't have to do it all, or see it all right now. But I think it's also a fair reminder to remember that these days are precious whether we have just one more, or twenty thousand more. So we should enjoy them. Love them. And live them well.

Eleven til One

You guys, I may spend the next few weeks curled up in the fetal position. Eleven months. ELEVEN months. ELEVEN MONTHS. Be still my heart. I just can't.

Nicknames: Bupsie, Bubs, Nugs, Love Nug, Goobs, Goobie, Goobie Booty, Noodle

Beautiful little Goobie.

Stats: Once again I have really inaccurate stats and for that reason I'm not going to FREAK THE HELL out about the numbers. 18 lbs and 27 inches. For. The. Love. We're incrementally climbing the weight chart and rolling down the height chart like a runaway snowball. But, it's not worth worrying about until I get into the pediatrician for his one year next appointment. He still wears 6-9 or 9 months clothes and size 3 diapers when he's not wearing cloth. And, we may stay here until he's two. But that's cool. I'm getting my money's worth.

Post bath naked time.

This child has nine teeth. NINE. He has the top four, bottom three, and then both of the first bottom molars have come through. He's taking it like a champ because he has seriously been teething nonstop since 7 months. Bless his heart. And bless mama's too because the kid BITES. I'm terrified that my kid is going to be THAT kid at school. I already hear his teachers saying, "Gentle, Garrison" all the time. Ackkk.

Sharpening his toothies on Sophie action while he waits on
his pancakes at Cracker Barrel

Eating: I pretty much let him eat whatever he wants at this point. Baby Led Weaning has produced an excellent eater. Far better than his mama. I think his favorite foods are probably beans, mashed potatoes, and blueberries. All foods I could really do without. Bless him. The only foods he hasn't really had yet our peanuts/peanut butter, grapes, and egg whites. Oh and cake. He hasn't had cake. But he's about to have lots of cake. Sigh.

Pulled pork and baked beans. Yum.

He's doing really well with straw sippy cups. I think he prefers not to have to tip his head back. He's a busy little body and would prefer not to have to rest/chill and lounge with his cup/bottle. So pretty much the exact opposite of his mama. But I'm really proud of him. All of these things that people said he might struggle with due to his preemie status, low birth weight status, or early struggles have just turned into non issues. He's rocking growing up into a (teeny tiny) big boy.

Daddy trying to encourage him to walk sans walker/shopping cart/wagon.

Sleeping: The sleep situation remains wonderful. He's still getting 11.5-12.5 hours each night. Our trip down to Florida sort of through him out of whack for a few days, but otherwise, he's been awesome. Thank you, Jesus.

Sleepy snuggles in the morning are my favorite.

Likes: He likes mom. A lot. Like more than a lot. Like mom is the only human in the world worth acknowledging most days. I can sit like a bump on a log and I'm just the greatest thing ever. Sam has to perform like a circus act to garner that kind of attention. Bless him. Daycare and the nursery volunteers at church have mentioned that he's starting to notice (and become upset) when other moms come to pick up their kids. Poor buddy, Unfortunately for him, I'm typically the last or second to last to get him at daycare and he's stuck in the nursery for two services on Sunday so he sees all the mamas come and go. The past month has been pretty hard on my mom heart. I'm feeling more guilty about leaving him, working, etc. He's so little and all he wants in life is his mama. It doesn't seem like too much to ask for. I keep reminding myself that I'm a better mom to him in the time we have together for my time away. If I was his jungle gym all day, I'd be exasperated. This is good for me. And him. That's my mantra.

Just chillin' in the wagon in the middle of the living room.

Garrison also likes whatever I've told him "no, no" about. Dog bowls...A-mazing. Cat litter...Best. Thing. Ever. Trash can...freaking awesome. Sterling...so great. Everest...best toy. I've almost decided to just let him go. Sure buddy, eat the dog food, flip the water bowl, beat on that 85 pound beast, pull the cats tail, but then I get to the cat litter. Nope. Just no. Gross. I can't. We will continue to say "no, no" and redirect a million and a half more times (this week).

Come'ere Sterling

Dislikes: Garrison continues to dislike being away from mom. I truly do think he's fine once I'm gone. It's the whole me leaving/someone taking him from me that sends him into a fit. Oh, and the reminder that I'm not there by the fact that other moms have come back for their little ones (thanks a bunch, moms).

Garrison continues to hate diaper changes. HATES them. And unfortunately, I'm struggling with cloth diapers for the first time in my wash routine, so I'm not loving diapers these days either. I'd potty train him today if I could.

Riding in his big boy car seat.

Looking forward to: Plans for his first birthday are going well. I'm probably about 1/2 of the way through with decorations and planning. It's going to be a good day. I may just not wear any mascara that day.

These eleven months have been the greatest months of my life. Hardest? Maybe. There were certainly some really, really hard days. But all of the days have been filled to the absolute brim with redemption. The Lord is redeeming my lost years one day at a time. I'd walk through those four years of trying to conceive and infertility a thousand times to have this little love. The love in my heart for that little boy. Gahhhh. I could just squeeze him all day long. He's my greatest adventure and the love of my heart.