Let's pretend it's january

Dear Bella,

I have to say this month has been downright enjoyable. Something clicked in you when grandma and grandpa visited. You got a new bed over Christmas and the nights have been heavenly ever since. Sure you still wake up a fair amount and throw the occasional tantrum, but bedtime is now just another part of the day, something you're learning to enjoy.





You've had a rough time with daddy's new schedule and miss him dearly. When he's home, you will take no substitutes. You look forward to pancake mornings more than anything ( who wouldn't?). Someday I will get to take over some of the work for him so you won't have to miss him so terribly.





Thanks to a Tinkerbell movie from Grandma, you are thoroughly addicted to fairies now. It's something I can indulge in since fairies belong in the real magic of nature. I have no problem helping you explore their world one little plant at a time. In fact, I have started planning an epic fairy birthday party for you (though you should know by now how little experience I have in planning such things). But there, I've said it. Now I have to follow through.







You got another haircut from me! It's coming in fast now and turning brown in the dark winter days. How I'll miss your cornsilk hair. That seems so vain, and I have so many photos of it, but it's just another reminder of how quickly you are growing into a person all of your own. I can't believe three is right around the corner.



You have always been a child whose actions are completely dictated by your emotions. It is my mission in life to make sure you learn to live with them and understand them and keep them passionate because they can change the world some day. This month you are starting to realize the effect you can have on people and how to use your super powers for good. You ask me to put Lia in your line of sight so she can laugh at you while you jump on the bed.



Even though it's not our practice to say Good Job in the house, you have picked it up from friends and make sure to tell me when I'm do a good job drawing with you or cooking dinner. You can always tell when I've done something that makes me proud.



Likewise, you know when I am too deep in a funk to pull myself out (it is so very hard being a grownup sometimes) and you offer me kisses until I finally relent.

Are you happy now?

Not yet, I reply..

I try to be honest. You need to know that it takes effort to live with strong emotions.

You persevere with a tiny hug or a kiss on the knee until I give in and gratefully scoop you up. When it's over I'm never really sure why I tried to resist your antidote in the first place.



I love every little bit of you so much. You are my happiness.

Love, mama

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9000 someodd days and counting

Dear Bella,

Once upon a time you were very little and you fit in the nook of my armpit. Actually, that used to be your favorite way to sleep. Once you got over your colic and we could lie down at night, you always ended up there, no matter how far away you started out. As you got taller, we grew into one another so that you were always the perfect fit.



In the months before Lillia was born I was panicking because you had become attached to me like never before. In the middle of the night you would wake up screaming and even if I was ten inches away, you cried as if the world were ending right then and there.

Now Lia spends many hours a day in my arms and you are in a Daddy phase. He does bedtime, and when you wake up at night no one can calm you but him. If he's not in bed, you wander out into the dark of the house, plodding along behind your sleepy feet, calling out for him. You always have been a Daddy's girl.

Last week you woke up from a nightmare and wanted to sleep on my front like you used to. I cherish the quiet cuddle times you give me now, as they are few and far between. But instead of resting on my breast, your head came up so high over my shoulder that you couldn't get comfortable. How did that happen?

I don't know where we stand right now, you and me. We are at such a crossroad. Oh how I love you; oh how you make me work for it. You fell so hard this month and all you wanted to feel better were nursies, forget that it's been almost three months since you even asked last. I knew you still wouldn't remember how to nurse, but something with that familiar position, lying sideways, looking up from that familiar angle set you at ease.

At the beginning I used to compare Lia's nursing to yours. Now even looking at a photo of you nursing I can just barely remember. I sat there holding you, completely lost; I might as well have had a giant teenager stretched across my lap. I had no idea how much you had grown and I didn't know how to make you fit.

We're both working on that. Where do we fit? Whatever Lia is doing, you want to do the second she stops. Sometimes you're her big sister, and sometimes you just want to be the baby. You've even invented your own gibberish language just like a baby. (Thanks to nightly recitations of Fox in Sox.) The rest of the time it's amazing to hear what you have to tell me. You say So, um, incessantly and are perfecting my exasperated sigh. You call the tassels on your hat fingers, and your free flowing speech gives us amazing an insight into a world where nothing is boxed in. Just the other day you recognized when we rounded the corner to the cousins' house, and you know when you are in our neighborhood, too. If you are walking, you're dancing, and if you're dancing you're jumping. Your world is outstanding.

When I picked you up for nursies that day, I guess I hadn't realized how long it had been since you let me really hold you. I don't ever want you to feel so foreign to me. From now on, we'll grow up together.

Love, mama

PS. Don't blame daddy for the focus on this shot. He got the focus just right in all the ones where you are rolling your eyes at me and stuffing crackers in my face. Maybe he just loves my snazzy ponytail.

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Wave

**On October 15th, a wave of light will cross the world as we light candles for the pregnancies we have lost. Today (and always), please take the time to let the families in your life know that their lost babies are not forgotten.**

Yesterday was exhausting and I felt stretched in every direction. I tried to go out in the evening for fun, but in the end, the baby who had whined and fussed all day long was now crying inconsolably in the car seat. I hopped out of my car into the dark, clear night and looked up, relieved to find the stars.

There is something so comforting in a clear night sky - looking up, overcome by vertigo and infinity, feeling the presence of every spirit that has ever existed. To the stars, our lifetime is a mere breath. There is peace in that feeling of unity - that we are all infinitesimally small and the two feet or two thousand miles that separate us mean nothing. The ones who are so far away, the ones who have left us are right there whenever we pause to look up.

In that brief moment, something stirred in me and the sounds of Lillia's wailing faded. It has been so long since I last needed that calming spirit around me, so long since I felt it. Here I am, over three years since I felt my world falling in, and the baby I lost is just a passing memory, a spirit I barely have time to recognize. And yet, he is still there ready to breathe encouragement into my heart when I need it the most. The ones we love are never gone, but stay by our sides to remind us to cherish every moment.

For you, baby, I will light a candle tonight and carry the wave of light across the world.

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Baby wearer

Stuffed down the front of her shirt, Dolly is never left out. We're baby wearing twins.

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two of a kind

For all that they are completely different, Lillia gives me moments of complete deja-vu.

When Lia arrived one of the first things that spat out of my mouth (after What? a girl? are you sure?) was, You don't look anything like Bella!

Well, as you can see, she has her moments. The chubby cheeks help. So yummy, I call her Peach Pudding.

The girls are the same age in this photo almost to the day, and it was totally by coincidence.

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no, really.

Dear Bella,

I used to be cool. No, really. I mean, there was this brief span of time between high school (when I was really uncool) until now; those were my cool years. And still, I have my moments. I'm not so horrible right now. Okay, so my fashion sucks. Sure, I forget to brush my hair some days and I go out with puke stains on my shirt and spaghetti on my pants. But I'm fun to be with. Or so I assume. I mean, I enjoy me and you seem to as well.

All this is just to say that I wish you could remember me as I am today.



When I think of my own mother, I remember her the way she was when we lived in Massachusetts and when I was a teenager. It makes me realize that you will remember me in my thirties and forties. You'll think of your twenty seven year old mother and giggle. No, I could never be that young. And yet you will remember a me that I have yet to even meet. How very strange. It is almost heartbreaking to think that these wonderful days you will remember only in photos.

So, I keep track. Not just for you, but for me. Every mile stone you hit wipes out the memory of its predecessors. Will I remember that this month you decided that everything is plural? We eat plum-ez and put on shoo-ez. (You put on your velcro shoo-ez all by yourself!) You problem solve like no other and I get to see those gears grinding away. All out of milk? Mama pump some! Your temper is still tempestuous, though when it's gone, you assess yourself and with genuine cheer and relief announce, I'm happy now! In the heat of a tantrum you will choose a spot to flop onto the ground and declare, Wa be sad.

You relive moments over and over out loud, like when you fell into the ditch of blackberry brambles. And you put on your serious voice and chime in with very serious topics (such as how your balloon popped one day) when you hear adults discussing Very Important Matters. Your slide strike is over and you now climb everything at the park. You clap for Lia when she rolls over, and you help Daddy shoo the flies out of the kitchen by shouting, Go away, BEEZ! And baking. We've been doing tons of baking.

I can't believe how fast this month has gone, how well you are doing with my divided time, and how grown up you suddenly are. I used to look at you and still see my baby, but I blinked this month and suddenly you are all little girl. It's exciting and scary all at once. I'll let it slide for now, since you still let me call you baby. You might only remember me when I'm old and grown up, but to me you will always be my baby.

Love,
mama

ps. yesterday you saw an empty pillow case on the bed and pointed to it with excitement and said, mama! the pillow popped! i could listen to your thoughts forever.

pps. i do realize the irony of not having a single photo of myself in here, sorry. so here's one daddy took yesterday:

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Something New

Whoops!

Looks like I missed a day. Now that I think about it, yesterDAY was quite busy and Lillia grumped all night, so it's no wonder.

However.

I am about to embark upon a project called 100 Strangers.

I'm looking forward to getting out of my comfort zone, finding interesting people and getting to know them. Not to mention improving my photography in it all.

We nodded to plenty of interesting people while hiking today, but I didn't manage to stop, chat, and get portrait out of any of them. In fact, we were quite the site to see, me, Ronnie and Dave each wearing a child. Everyone thought Haydee and Lillia were twins.

Alas, no portraits. Still, It's good to know I can always find great subjects on one of our favorite trails.

So that at least I felt I was warming up to the idea, I snapped this while walking. This group looked so blissful. In fact, everyone on that trail was.

oh, and this one for good measure:



Thanks for the warning.

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if i had known

that this is how naptime would look with a newborn and an emotionally needy two year old, hmmm....

at least she's napping.

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to my girls

Happy July to you, girls.

You get to share a letter this month (I imagine that you will have a lot of that concept to get used to anyhow). What a month it has been. Apparently when you have two kids, time goes by exponentially faster.

Bella, darling. I don't even know where to begin with you. You need me so badly and it is agonizing to see you in such turmoil. To see you reaching for your independence in so many little ways , and wanting the unwavering security of mama upon your return to earth. When you need me, it's overwhelming. You climb on top of me, grab me, and cling so tight that I seems like you want nothing more than to return to my belly. Sometimes I'm not there, sometimes you fall and my hands are full, sometimes your body gets out of control in a tantrum and this new baby keeps me from coming to your rescue, sometimes I have only half a lap for you to sit on, sometimes there is someone else in my arms at bedtime and it shakes your world to the core.

After nights of you screaming endlessly for me, crying yourself hoarse, worried sick to the point of vomiting, Daddy and I switched sides of the bed so you could feel me at night, so you could fill your own cup all night and not wake up feeling like you were stranded on a desert island. So you know that I do still love you. I was afraid you would wake me up every hour, since I know you still do, and then I would have two hearts to feed at night, but I was wrong. You stir, and reach for me, and that touch is enough to send you back to dreamland. It's just enough that I am there.

We battled all month, head to head, screaming, tantruming, hitting, and I'm ashamed to say these words describe me, too. Bedtime is still often a nightmare, but something finally clicked for me in the daytime. It's okay that you need me. It's okay that you hug my leg as I walk around the house. It's okay that you hop out of the stroller as I am pushing it because you need to be in my arms at that very second (even though I have to put you back screaming and crying and thrashing because, really, I don't have THAT many arms). It's okay that sometimes you glare at me and turn away when I finally do have a moment for you. It's all okay, because we're figuring out how much we still need one another. We're figuring out how to work that love into every little crevice throughout the day, and we're figuring out how to not resent each other for our love. We're going to be okay, I promise.

As for Lillia, my sweet. Bella calls you Lia, so while we call you Lily when we are out and about, you are Lia at home. Did you know I did that on purpose? Bella, too, and some day she make pick Izzy instead. Lillia, you are something to behold. A princess, really. Quiet, sweet, and calm. But make you uncomfortable and you squeal and shriek and whine. And don't bother trying to nurse you if your belly hurts or you are sleepy. Your entire day is spent searching for calm and equilibrium.

You are still a fan of the baby dive, pitching yourself sideways whenever you are upright. You are not terribly social yet - mostly you gaze around and often you make faces of utter panic so that we glance behind us for an axe murderer. Nope, that's just your thinking face. You're a mama's girl, which still surprises me, and will calm the moment you reach me. I have always treasured your sleep smiles, and now you are practicing them while awake, too.

You hate the car, and will scream yourself purple (so you sound like a dolphin) if you are awake. You are finally letting me wear you as long as your legs and head are not confined and you are tilted to the side. You're much more of a wiggler-mover than I am used to. I have a feeling you will be on the move the second you can. You still love your sleep, and every night that you fuss I cringe that tonight is the night you turn colicky. But so far, so good. Except that you sleep like noisy pig, and it's taking me time to learn which noises I can ignore.

It's hard not to compare you to your sister and I worry that her current antics will overshadow your babyhood, but fear not, you are paving your own way with quiet stealth. On occasion you stop and look at each other and I see a connection that I will never fully understand. I look forward to the months and years ahead as your sisterhood blossoms. To witness it will be magical.

I love you both more than I could ever imagine,
mama

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