A Letter to Ronan on your 5th Birthday

Gaga is sitting across from me at one of our favorite coffee shops and your name comes up. We reminisce about something we did with you when you were smaller and tears form in my eyes. I tell her, "I don't know what it is about this birthday but I'm so emotional lately." I say I don't know why but, I do - this is a big one. A milestone birthday. Every one before now has been special in its own way but turning 5 is a bit like reaching the top of a mountain...it's just one of many stops along the climb, I realize, but look at what we've done so far. 

We have successfully navigated all of those big toddler challenges that define your first few years. Together, we tackled breast feeding, sleeping through the night, ditching the bottle, potty training and a big boy bed. Each task seeming monumental at the time and now, just simple parts of your daily routine. And though you may not understand why, you should be so proud of yourself too, especially with the independence you've gained over the past year, starting with preschool.

That was the hardest moment for us yet, myself included. Until then, we hadn't spent much time apart. You were either in my care or spending time with Gaga and suddenly you turned 4 and it was time to watch you walk away by the hand of a stranger into a new setting and just hope we had done everything to best prepare you for a good experience. I'll never forget how hard that first week was; me, anxiously sitting at Starbucks on your first day, crying because you were and waiting for you to be done so I could immediately come back. The next day, the teacher peeled you off me as you cried and they told me to just trust it would get better and of course it did. You had a great year with so much progress made.

Now, as we count down the days until kindergarten, I am left with the same big feelings, as it's a much longer time before I get to "come back." For the first time, you will be spending a full school day away from me, learning, making friends and fine tuning the independence we've worked on for the past 5 years. What an exciting time in your life! I am allowing myself to look forward to everything the school years will bring while also quietly mourning all of the time we previously had to just be together during the day, doing the most simple things. Whether we were visiting the library, going to Peets, hanging by the fountain or just watching Peppa, they have been the best days of my life and that's mostly because I have had my best friend by my side.

One of our greatest joys over the past year has been watching you grow in your role as the older brother. Yesterday, you two spent a full evening playing together on our swing set after dinner, without any intervening from Dada or I. You were laughing, squealing with delight and finding ways to make him feel better if he was hurt. It has taken us two years to get to the point where you can play on an equal level with one another and it is a beautiful thing to see because understandably so, there were many challenging situations along the way. Staying home with you both was a huge adjustment for me and there were some very long days. But for every argument or tantrum between you and Lawson, there has been two more hugs, butterfly kisses and shared cups of orange juice on the couch. I will never forget you coming with us for his two year doctor checkup and crying when he cried, because you couldn't stand to see him sad. 

That's how deeply you feel.

You care with all of your heart for everything that is special to you. You love your stuffed animals like they are real pets of your own. You ahh and ooh at strangers babies to make them smile, saying, "Mama, look at that sweet baby!" You still hug "the man with the lantern" statue in our neighborhood as we walk by, wishing him a good day and telling him you will see him again soon. You cuddle your blanky when you need to feel safe, collect nature treasures at the lake house and think about the injured bird in our yard days after he is gone, hoping he has found his way back home. You initiate the big "Family hug" before bedtime, telling us how much you love our Family, but Ronan...if you only knew how we feel about you. 

In our bones, in our heart and in every single move we make.

I am so proud of everything you have accomplished thus far and the person you're becoming. You are nurturing, thoughtful, exhaustingly curious, brave, emotional, smart, deeply loving, a bit cunning, a little too stubborn (must be hereditary!), a creature of habit and one of the sweetest five year olds I know. I will miss you more than you know as you embark on your next adventure this year but I can't wait for so many others to see all the magic you have inside you. And there are so many "just us" dates to come! 

Happy 5th birthday to my sweet Ro. I love you to the moon and back.

Love, Mama

A Letter to Law on your 1st Birthday

My sweet boy - Happy 1st birthday. I can't believe a year has passed but more so, I can't believe the kind of year it was. A year (plus) spent in a pandemic that has forever changed every single one of us. I have spent a lot of time this week reflecting on the past 365 days we have spent together and it often brings me to tears. I am not the same person I used to be - I suppose you never are after bringing life into the world, but it's more than that. In March of 2020, we were busy preparing for your arrival, already nervous about making this big transition and entering the next phase of our lives but we could have never prepared for the kind of change we were about to experience. It started out small - We moved out of our room in the house and turned it into your nursery. We bought Ronan books on becoming a big brother. AND THEN - Restaurants started closing - A stay-at-home order issued, just for two weeks to "flatten the curve" (and I remember how even that seemed impossible). Trade shows shutting down which meant uncertainty at work. Maternity leave which turned into a furlough which resulted in never once stepping foot back into the office with the team who had become my family over the past TEN years. Caution tape put up on our favorite parks. Wearing masks to see hug a family member, not hugging many family members at all. Favorite play places closed, no explanation for heartbroken toddlers. A covid test and masks required in the delivery room. No visitors allowed at the hospital. An unexpected and extremely emotional emergency c-section...

But then on May 7, 2020, at a little past 2pm, you were placed in my arms with a tear-stained face while my teeth were still chattering and I didn't know much about you yet but I knew you were exactly what we needed. 

Our early newborn days together are hazy at best - Standard for that phase of life, yes, but because there was so much going on in the world, I felt as if I was sleepwalking through the motions many of those days. It was survival mode and then some - I was doing my best to adjust to being home with you and your brother all day every day (and not having the freedom to go anywhere!) and find our own routine once Dad went back to work. I was figuring out how to breastfeed while keeping Ronan entertained, remembering what it was like to function on little sleep and all the while, keep a positive attitude about life during COVID. 

But you...you made all of the hard things so much better.

As important as it is for me to acknowledge what a difficult, trying year it's been, it's even more crucial you know that YOU have been the brightest light in it all and my reason for trying to do my best every single day. From the day you came home, you have been perfectly happy and content, willing to go with our flow and thankfully, being blissfully unaware of anything happening outside our 4 walls. We knew very early on that you were a sweet soul, from the long naps you would take in your outdoor dome to sitting on the porch rockers late at night with us at the lake house, just smiling as we talked. You slept in between Dada and I for months and it was comforting to have you so close. You made my job of nursing you so easy and certainly less stressful this time around, both of us finding our groove and STILL going TWELVE - MONTHS - LATER. I am so proud of you - OF US - for continuing on that journey together and will for as long as you'll have me. 

You are never not smiling. Friends and family have asked many times, "does he ever cry? Is he always this happy?" and the answer is, yes - There is very little that upsets you, unless we're talking about food or pacifiers being taken away, understandable. You have always been patient with us, often giving us the time we need to tend to your brother, who at 3 years old, demands a lot of attention. Then and now, you often have to wait a few extra minutes because he needs to be buckled first, given a snack or helped climb up a ladder at the park and you just wait your turn, with a grin on your face. It is easy to see how much you adore and idolize Ronan, your eyes following him when you were an infant and your feet running after him today, as he tries to play hide and seek with you or make you laugh (or more realistically, steal your toys and "accidentally" push you on your butt). But I see your bond forming and it makes a Mommy and Daddy heart so happy to know you have a built-in best friend for life.

There are so many things I want to remember about you in your first year. 

How you would wake up in the pack & play and I would see two little eyes staring at me, smiling when you saw me sit up in bed. When you were really tiny, Ronan would wake in the morning and say, "good morning baby - are you comfy??" How you've ALWAYS loved bath time, never once complaining about being in the water. Naps in the dockatot. Naps on the bopppy. But rarely naps on Mom - not a fan of being rocked. Loving the abc 123 song book. Insisting on sleeping on your belly from the get go. The night you wouldn't sleep so I put pillows all around my bed and we slept in the middle together. The elephant Halloween costume. How delightfully chunky you were. Your obsession with the remote. The plaid winter hat. The way your face looks when you see Elmo. How fascinated you were with the toy crab (RIP crab). Your tiny foot in my armpit while feeding. Incessantly rolling under the table once you knew how. Your first Christmas. The snowsuit. 

The way you used your sloth toes pick up toys and help you balance. When you started giving kisses. Your first swing. The first time you said Mama. How your tiny fingers touched the "Never touch a Dinosaur" books. The firetruck at the park. How you started walking at 10 months, just like Ro. How much you LOVE TO EAT. How you dance to the purple dinosaur. How you clap your hands at dinnertime. How you love to take out the bath stopper. 

How absolutely WONDERFUL you are. 

And please never let me forget how when I laid you down to change one (of your many) diapers today, I kissed your bare, chubby legs, right in the nook underneath your knee and you laughed a laugh that made my heart jump out of my chest. I did it again and again because for as long as I live, that will be one of the greatest sounds my ears have ever heard. Much like this first year together, it was one of a kind. 

Happy birthday to my Law. You are everything we needed and more. I love you more than you'll ever know.

Love, Mama

A Letter to Ro on his Third Birthday

Happy golden birthday to my first baby. Today, you are 3 years old, the best 3 years of my life. In so many ways, it seems like you were just born. Like you were just wearing onesies, watching Mickey Mouse in your jumper and eating rice cereal with a bib on your chest. But in many others, it seems like you’ve been two for a while now— perhaps that’s because of quarantine or maybe it’s because we’ve watched you grow up so much since you’ve become a big brother. Partly because you’ve had to but also just because you’re learning so much every day and your independence is blooming at a rapid rate. Two was a big year for you - once you started talking, you never stopped and your vocabulary is flourishing (though we could do without the god damn it’s!). You developed a love for the water through your swimming lessons. You have amazed us on a regular basis with your numbers, colors, shapes, dinosaur species, presidents names and more. We tried basketball class - You weren't a huge fan. We potty trained (big thanks to m&m's). And most of all, you became a big brother to sweet Lawson. You have adjusted to this change with more patience than I imagined and we love watching you get excited when he wakes up in the morning and kiss him goodnight. Thank you for sharing us with him.

You are truly your own person, I have learned. You have a wild and curious spirit that can never be tamed. Your laugh is infectious, the best sound my ears have ever heard. You are painfully stubborn, persistent and focused which makes makes for MANY challenging moments now but these are qualities I’m confident will serve you well later in life. You never run out of energy, doing everything full-speed until the moon is high in the sky and you have no other choice but to fall down and sleep. You really don’t like art activities. You really DO enjoy music. You love little figurines you can carry around, sleep with and take in your bath. You’re extremely nurturing - to your stuffed animals (your “friends”), your baby brother, even the squirrels and birdies we find on our walks. You want to pet them all, squealing “aww, they are so cute!” You have a beautiful face with a smile that makes us all weak, which always makes us cave for one more “fruit nack” or another “green M.” You’re still very passionate about Peppa pig: her show, your comfort...her camper van, your favorite toy and Peppa world, which we visited in Michigan almost a year ago to the day. You are still asking when we can go back...”Soon,” I say. A little white lie, as this measure of time, "soon," hasn’t applied to many of our favorite adventures for some time now.

But despite how much has changed in our lives since Covid began, we’ve had some of the best times at home together - I mean, how lucky are we to HAVE this Family time? We recently took a walk down our block together, your tiny hand in my left and your bug catcher in my right. You decided we should sit down right there, in the middle of the sidewalk with our magnifying glasses and look for ants. You gathered a few leaves we could use to scoop them up and we just waited. I knew brother and dad were waiting for us at home but I could not possibly rush this moment. It was so exquisitely simple - I watched your eyes dart back and forth as microscopic ants made paths on the pavement. You thought every curved stick was a worm, holding out hope. Our street was fairly quiet and you were so content to just be there with me and I felt the same. I am quite serious when I say it is THESE small and insignificant moments that I never want to forget. When you inevitably start shutting your bedroom door for privacy or the first time you take our car to pick up your friends, I want to remember how we looked for bugs together...I wish we always could.

As you turn another year older, I want to remember how you call out “mama! Mama!” a thousand times a day, saying you just want to see me or give me a “huggie.” How you want me to lay on your sheep beside your bed at night. How we end each day talking about our favorite parts and singing a song. How obsessed you are with the vacuum. How you talk about Santa all year long. How we have indoor picnics on the big blanket. How you ask dada and I “you wanna come?” anytime you go anywhere. How you want us to sit RIGHT next to you when you play. How you live for going to the lake house. How we took walks every night this Summer to see the "kitty and puppy" and the "owls eyes" (neighbors lawn decor) and how excited it makes you. 

How it sounds when your feet run across our kitchen floor. How you come downstairs in the morning in your paw patrol pjs and we lazily watch Peppa and make breakfast. How much you love life, not wanting to miss a single thing. How much you care for your family and friends - unconditionally. How excited you get when your grandparents come over. How badly you want to sit in everyone’s car and “drive” to the coffee shop. Our Peet’s dates by the fountain. How we say “I love you to the moon...and back.” Because I really do - I hope you know...you mean the world to me.

I want to hold on so bad - more than anything. I want to keep you home forever with me, snuggle in your chair at night and read every story on your shelf. I want to sit beside the bath tub and watch as you let your imagination run wild, splashing, singing and talking to your toys. I want to sit next to you on the swings, climb into the clubhouse and laugh as we take turns shimmying down the slide. I want to make smoothies and chocolate chip cookies with you standing next to me on your stool. Brush your teeth at night as we sing the Daniel Tiger song. Help you put on your strappy sandals. Comb your hair. Squeeze you just one second longer...

Here's to year 3 - I hope it's as wonderful as you are. 

Thank you for being you...there's nobody better. 

Love always, 

Mama

A New Baby in a New World

I remember sharing the news with my co-workers that we were expecting our second child. I taped up a picture of our announcement in the kitchen at the office and waited to see the reactions. That was earlier this year, maybe late January and from there on out, the girls and I would talk about it weekly: What we were having (another) boy, what names we liked (Lawson vs Liam), how I was feeling about expanding the Family, how my bump seemed so much bigger this time around...and then one day, it all just stopped. The conversation, the camaraderie, the work - The world. We were placed under a "stay at home" order, something that seemed so unimaginable, it couldn't be true. But there we were...We left the office one day in March, notebooks open to lengthy to-do lists and computers put to sleep until the next morning, or so we thought. It's now mid July and those same notebooks are still sitting open and the computers have long since been shut down. Change had only just begun...

The baby is no longer in my belly, but sleeping soundly next to me, while we both listen to the sounds of his noise machine. He, much like everything else this year, caused quite a stir with his arrival into the world due to an "emergency" c-section that nobody, me especially, could have predicted. In fact, this birth story is much like a metaphor for our entire Covid-19 experience. After experiencing a smooth induction that moved quickly and being told I was ready to push, everything changed in a matter of seconds - He was breeched and he was coming, whether we were ready or not, so a storm of doctors and nurses flooded the room and with tears streaming down my face, I was rushed to an operating room, leaving my husband behind and counting the minutes until I saw him come through the door to be by my side. I felt completely blindsided and beyond scared, as I had no time to mentally prepare for major surgery and immediately thought of my toddler waiting for me at home. Waiting for me to come home and put him in my lap for songs and a story before bedtime. I told the nurses through my tears how much I wanted to be able to do that when I got home, to give him every sense of normalcy I could, since so much of that had already been stripped away - no parks, no play places, no choo choo restaurant and to top it off, a brand new brother who would demand much of my time. But there was no turning back and it all moved so quickly.

I felt them poking and prodding me but never any pain. I squeezed my husbands hand and stared up at the bright lights, wondering if I was dreaming and just waiting for it to be done. I thought about my parents at home, who so desperately wanted to be sitting in the waiting room and I wondered how long it had been since they heard an update. I couldn't stop shaking, my teeth chattering uncontrollably and the nurse assured me that was the drugs, that this was normal. But really, none of this was normal. I waited to hear him cry, to hear that he was healthy and see his face, which we had been imagining for 9 months prior. I felt the weight of him as they placed him on my chest, my husband supporting him, as I could not physically manage that. He was beautiful and everything I imagined yet at the same time, nothing like I thought. Thank God he was here safely.

It felt odd not to have any hospital visitors. To have to put on a mask every time a nurse entered the room (which was often). To watch "Couples Retreat" with the volume almost too low to hear on the TV in our room. Neither of us even like the movie - We laughed because we were just too tired to find anything else. To order pizza via Door Dash and have it delivered to the hospital. To not be able to receive any gifts to our room of any kind (My Mom is still upset she couldn't send flowers). To see a gift shop, lights off and doors closed. To know how badly our Families wish they were there, kissing the new member and wishing us well. To not have the option for newborn photos, commemorating such a magical moment in our lives. I've said this so many times but what an odd time to have a baby.

I was extremely sore and still in a bit of shock that I had major surgery. A few days prior to my induction, the dr had felt my stomach and said the baby was in perfect position. How could he have flipped this late? Or had he? I couldn't move with any ease or do anything on my own which was disheartening. But the morning after delivery, I woke up when the sun was starting to rise which highlighted the tiny little profile of our new little man and I had deja vous from the first hospital morning after Ronan was born. It was quiet besides a few hospital beeps, my baby boy's chest was moving up and down ever so slightly and my heart expanded beyond what I ever thought was possible.

I admit, I felt frustrated that I was going to be left with a massive scar smack dab in the middle of my stomach. It is now 2+ months later and I have such different, unexpected feelings. I find myself hoping that no matter how much it lightens over time, I will always be able to see it. Babies don't keep and we try to capture their spirit, their innocence as much as possible through film and photographs but even those get lost or fade over time. I have a physical mark to remind me of the exact spot where my son entered the world...to remind me of everything we went through during this unprecedented time. But most of all, to remind me of how amazingly strong Mothers are, creating life and nurturing it for every minute after.

Though Lawson's birth story is a bit upsetting, his presence is anything but. He is an angel baby, a missing piece of our Family puzzle, who spends his moments awake with a massive smile on his face and sleeps peacefully, rarely causing a ruckus. He is something I am so sure of in a world where it's hard to make sense of anything.

It's hard to believe how quickly everything can change. Those co-workers I mentioned at the beginning, I haven't seen them in so long and they were such a big part of my life. The trade show and event industry we were thriving in just months ago has completely shut down, leaving us all wondering where we'll go from here. I miss so many things, some significant, some not. My job - The inside jokes - The Target dollar section - The library - The park(s) - Sharing sandwiches with Ronan at the coffee shop - The Farmers Market (as it was) - The Children's Museum - The aforementioned train restaurant - Restaurants in general - Going to the movies - Going anywhere, really - Being able to use public restrooms - Swimming pools - Ice cream shops - Not wiping down every grocery item - Being able to smile at a stranger when they walk by. You don't even realize how much you miss the little things until you no longer have them.

But as important as it is to talk about how hard all of this is, I must also acknowledge that parts of it have been a blessing. We are healthy, number one. Family time together we would have never gotten otherwise. Completed house projects. Utilizing what we have. Realizing we were moving way too fast and seeing the benefits of slowing down. As much as I love to be on the go, I have relished in living life at a slower pace. Not looking at the clock as much which means we all go to sleep at 10pm and wakeup late, a Summer schedule at its best. Daily morning (and evening) walks to spot pinecones, fireflies, cicadas and our neighbors lawn decor (the kitty's eyes light up!). Barefoot in the grass chats with our neighbors, sitting on the porch playing eye spy and eating breakfast on the deck. These are things we might not have thought of pre-quarantine but I have loved watching Ronan experience a more simplified Summer and honestly, I think he's had the time of his life. I know he has loved having both of us around all the time and we've gone above and beyond to make sure he doesn't notice any of the missing things from our normal routine. A children's roller coaster now sits in our basement, a dinosaur pool in the backyard and popsicles are had at 9am, all of which we have justified by the quarantine and big smiles like this one.

Our Families have been amazing support systems and we are lucky to have each other. We've kept them close for our mental health and sanity and roughed this storm together. We've done our best to stay safe and optimistic, despite wading through a never-ending sea of unknown and we will continue to put on brave faces for our two littlest faces, who I hope only learn anything about Covid-19 from an article they may read many years from now, while sitting at a restaurant, sharing a meal with their friends and making plans to head to the movies.

- - - 

"Sometimes life throws us a curveball, for no reason that we can fathom. But we do not despair - We are not alone. We can persevere. This, too, shall pass, like the heat of Summer."