I would complain about my lack of me time… if I had not experienced the painful blessings in the last few years. If I had not lost Eli, I would possibly see our new life as less of a blessing and more of a burden. If my mom had not suffered a stroke at 49 leaving me to bathe her, help her in the restroom and care for her needs, I would not have been prepared for the last 15 months. At all. But, the God that I was often not on speaking terms with… the God that I came to on my knees pleading for release from the clenches of grief and infertility… the God that at night when I was alone and feeling the deep empty wound that comes from infant loss – held my tears.. He knew. He was already there, in this chapter of our lives where we stand, as a family in awe of our journey and where it has led. God is IN the journey, isn’t he?

SO before I go any further.. and before I start blogging again regularly let me give you all a quick update or two:

We have moved out of the cold and repressed Midwest. We have put down roots in Gulfport, MS and are planting a church. A non-denominational – everyone.. EVERYone is welcome kinda church. Abby is in fine form and full of it as usual. The Teen is now 16 and still an amazing kid… I keep waiting for the teen “you are so lame” tude to kick in. Hubs is doing wonderfully and is still my rock and my much needed dose of common sense. Mom has great days and meh days. But, her great days still outweigh the meh. And… Sam. Let me introduce you to Sam.

(“Little Dude” who, while in foster care, could not be named or have ANY information shared past his doctors and case workers is now Sam. He was adopted by us on May 20th. And now, I don’t feel anxious about blogging. How does one write about their life when a huge part of it cannot be spoken of?)

Sam was born addicted. To everything. 3 pounds. Feeding tube. Apnea. Heart issues. Possible blindness. And with a terrible prognosis. All the doctors said that if he had been with any other family, he would not have survived to 3 months old. The same specialists said we would be lucky if he lived to see 6 months. That he would never know who we were, never crawl, walk, smile, truly live.

Well, Sam knows us. He may have some issues. Cerebral Palsy is a real possibility. Seizures weekly. And muscles so tight from 9 months of drug exposure that his legs are bent. So severely that the bones have actually twisted to accommodate the tension. There are nights of screaming where no one sleeps. There are days that consist of fits and total meltdowns. But, Sam knows us. He knows that he can count on parents that are patient and have unstoppable hope for him. Sam has always had the face of an old man… and in that face I can see that he knows that His Savior shaped his parents – through the grace that comes only from horribly painful trials- to rejoice in Him and in him. Just a few days ago, as we cleaned up from Tropical Storm Lee, Sam did something that most parents take for granted. I did too once upon a time. Sam took his very first steps, put his hands out and yelled with unabashed joy “Daddy!” 

Later that night, in a brief moment of quiet. I fell to my knees… and called out with unabashed joy “Daddy!”

A very close friend of mine was with me the day I met Sam in the NICU. She was there the day he became ours forever. She made this video for us… please enjoy meeting our son, Sam!

I figure I must only have like 5 readers left by now. I am so sorry I never write anymore… it is just immeasurably hard to write about my life whilst sticking to the rule of not “talking” about Little Dude. I do have some news about that, though. It looks very likely that by spring of this year, you will get to meet our new little guy. Why you ask? because he will be ours. Yup.

Ahem…  sorry for the preemptive tangent, there.

Abby in fine Abby form made her mind up weeks ago that she would stay up waiting for Santa to thank him for giving her a baby brother to keep. She was driven… think Wall Street mogul driven. While most people laugh and say “Oh, my (fill in kid’s name here) tried that when he/ she was five, too. They lasted till Midnight.” They simply do not know our Abby. Tonight, as I left cookies out for Santa with her I mumbled “next year we are leaving him chocolate covered coffee beans.”

She made it clear to 3Am, y’all. Three. Our lawns are covered in snow and Jack Frost is a-nipping… and I was just sweating like a vegan at a southern potluck. Little Dude will be up and smiling in an hour and I am beat. This early morning.. as I looked at the spoils of Christmas shopping.. or as my mom and I call it- female hunter/gatherer syndrome, I thought to myself… Jesus, I need you. I need you to remind me why we celebrate WHY do I need to make each Christmas wonderful? I need to bring my heart to Bethlehem.

In my life, I have a lot of reminders of the love and miracle surrounding that Holy Night:

I could think of how as I type, there is a little brown baby boy asleep in his Moses basket who statistically, no one expects anything awesome from… but when I see his face, I see the face of God in so many ways.

I could relate to y’all and remind myself of how Hubs loves my kids.. as his own. He is a man of God and the man of my heart and house…. quite like the coolest step-dad ever, Joseph.

I could look at my Mom, asleep in her chair and reflect on how her body keeps her from joining us at church, but she first introduced me, as a small child, to the spirit of giving.

But tonight, I want to tell you the story of when The Teen was a little younger than Abby… but just as, well, tiring.

The Teen was three and a half the year I finalized my divorce from his dad. It was a long drawn out battle and one I could not lose… for The Teen’s sake. I spent every last dime I had on lawyers and securing a safe life for my, then, little boy. I had to sell our 4 bedroom house and move in with my mother. Not the best of years for us. The Teen would have never known though. I worked very very hard on making sure he had everything he needed and most of what he wanted. I think 2 years went by without me buying one thing for myself. One day, while in the mall, I saw this most amazing yummy cashmere sweater… cobalt blue. It was just the perfect sweater. Did I mention that it was as soft as butter and tailored in the most classic of ways. I NEEDED this sweater. But, it was Fall and I needed to conserve money for my son’s Christmas. So, I waited. Weeks  turned to months and the first week of December my sweater went on sale. From 200.00 to 65.00. I made my move. I gave myself my first Christmas gift as a single mom. I would wear this sweater to Midnight Mass.

Something about putting up Christmas trees, lights, stockings, etc. has the amazing ability to turn even the most gentle hearted child into a crazed Ebola Monkey and my little boy was no different. The weeks leading up to that Christmas were filled with time-outs, early bed times and lots of chocolate for me. Where had my sweet little guy gone? And could Santa bring him back? Seriously, those weeks made me doubt if I could ever be a good single mom. My sweet boy had gone rogue.

Christmas Eve came and I finally got the little booger to sleep just in time to head out to Midnight Mass. I threw on my skirt, make-up and pulled my hair up in a twist… now for my gift to me… my sweater! I slipped the yummy buttery goodness on and rushed to the door. Now, my mom, pre-stroke, had a wicked sense of humor. To this day, I am shocked she actually stopped me. She could have easily let me walk into Saint Anthony’s laughing heartily at home. But, she did not.

Mom: Hun, WHERE are you GOING?

me: to Mass

Mom: Have you looked at yourself?

me: Do I have a base line? ( any good Southern woman would rather be caught dead than with that pesky line of make-up on the jawline)

Mom: (laugh, laugh, snort) Sweetie, I think you should go LOOK in the MIRROR

I rolled my eyes at her and grumbled to myself as I walked into the hallway to inspect myself. I knew I looked cute. I had been courting this outfit for months…. then I saw it.

My Ebola monkey of a child had cut a hole in my sweater. A big square to be exact. Right. Over. My. Left. BOOB!

If he had not looked so cute sleeping in his Old Navy Christmas PJ’s, he very well may not be called The Teen today. I was livid. I don’t think I have ever been that angry at my son. A hole? In the titty? Seriously?

I cannot tell you what Hymns were sung or what the sermon was about that night.. I lit my candle, sang Christmas songs all the time mourning the death of cobalt blue yumminess.

I am no longer a catholic… and I miss the formality of Midnight Mass sometimes. I do not, however, miss the length of said mass. I think I got home at 2am that night. Time to be Santa because I knew my son would be up in a couple hours vibrating with giddiness. I assembled a Big Wheel, put out toys and got to stuffing stockings. As I was putting the required toothbrush in each stocking, I dropped one on the Nativity scene. That’s when I saw it.

There he was, our Baby Jesus. Surrounded by a loving, scared, YOUNG mom… an overwhelmed dad.. and covered. In the most regal, yummy, cobalt blue blanket.

As I sneaked down the hallway to my room, I peeked in on my son knelt by his bed and silently thanked him.   For  my heart first found Bethlehem through the eyes of my first child.

Merry Christmas, y’all.

CeCe

Truth is, I have been scared to write. Scared of being judged… not by y’all… but there is something extremely frightening about seeing your heart in black and white. What if… what if I don’t like what I see?

So, I will get through the nuts and bolts of how things have been… then I will try to express what I am feeling.

First, Little Dude will be Three Months OLD this week! He is a whopping 12 pounds and while that is still small for his age, its triple his birth weight. He has had a very rocky start in life: seizures, reflux, aspiration during feeds, muscle stiffness and possible brain damage. He goes to what seems like countless doctor appointments, had PT and OT twice weekly and we do stretching exercises with each diaper change. He wakes about every two hours at night, and because of his feeding issues, takes about 40 minutes to complete his meal and fall back to sleep. Little Dude has been some seriously hard work.  It’s more than a little illegal to post photos of him… but if you can imagine a mocha hued Gandhi… that’d be him!

While Little Dude is a LOT of work and worry… he is so much more.

He is a precious light in our home. He is a daily reminder of God’s abiding love. He is a fighter and smells of what I hope Heaven smells like. He has taken residence in each of our hearts in ways that I cannot begin to express. Little Dude has charmed nurses, doctors, social workers, church members and strangers alike. He has so many odds stacked against him in this world, yet so many fans. And five people who would gladly walk through fire for him.

On one particularly hard night, as I rocked this helpless little guy whose tight muscles pained him too much to sleep, Abby had to check on him. Just barely awake, she rubbed her eyes and climbed onto my free knee.

“Mommy?”

Yes, sweetie?

” I know what he needs to know right now.”

What’s that? (half expecting her to tell me he needs chocolate or a cookie or silly band)

” The Lord is my shepherd. I do not want for anything. He leads by still waters. He lets me lay down in green grass. He refreshes my soul. He takes my hand and shows me to the right path. He feeds me even when I feel scared. Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life and I will live in His house forever.”

( crying) Abby, you are so sweet and so very right. Mommy needed to hear that too.

“Mommy?”

Yes?

“Can our house be a house of the Lord?”

ummmm?

“So Little Dude can live here forever?”

Um. Yeah, y’all. I have been scared to write. Scared to admit that we love this guy so very much and are we are in an odd situation. One part of our hearts wants his mom to get clean, get her life together so she can know what a gift she has and can be his mommy. One part of our hearts wants to start some commune somewhere and hide so we can keep him in our arms forever. I think I understand purgatory more now than I ever did when I was Catholic. Limbo? Sucks.

So, every morning, I wake up and say the same thing to myself. Yes, I talk to myself. Often.

Today, we will love him and hold him. Tomorrow if she gets off the drugs, and gets her life back.. gets Little Dude back: we will celebrate in public and cry in private. If she never gets clean and we keep Little Dude forever: we will celebrate in public and cry in private.

No matter how Little Dude’s life turns out… someone loses a child.  So, maybe I am not normal.. maybe we are nuts… but we pray for Little Dude’s mom. We pray that she is safe and that she finds the only thing that can fill the void she tries so hard to fill with drugs. We pray that she sees Jesus and turns it around with His help. We also pray that Little Dude will always be safe and loved and cared for. And most days, I feel that those prayers contradict each other.  We love him so so sooo much… and I think, if that time comes, we love him enough to say goodbye. We also love him enough to not ever want to have to.

Now that your head hurts, I will say goodnight! I have a baby to feed and a freshly washed noggin to smell. Thank you all for the emails and continued prayers. I feel your love in my very bones.. and that has helped me keep my wits many a late night.

Love y’all,

CeCe

He is home. I am overwhelmed, humbled, and just wow. Abby is deeply smitten. Larry is in the kitchen cooking dinner and being as domestic as he can.. while he silently falls in love with our little visitor. Mom keeps saying “he is SOOOO tiny” and James… When James held him for the first time.. I saw a familiar emotion sweep over him. He has only been this little guy’s big brother for a few days, but he is his forever protector.

I just feel so blessed.

Tonight, while you sleep, my thoughts drift to you. To us. Just a little over five years ago,  you went to bed before me as I prepared a very similar bag. Knowing, the next day, we would welcome a precious and very wanted little baby girl. Just days over three years ago, you packed my overnight bag while I lay numb on the couch… praying that somehow, Eli would simply wake up and everything would be okay.

We have seen some wondrous joy in our lives together. We have secretly cried tears of joy and gratitude to God when James first accidentally called you Dad. We have watched both Abby and James grow and learn and love. We have renewed our vows daily with acts of love and kindness that, for some reason, seem second nature. We still kiss, hold hands, and giggle. You keep my heart young and giddy. Most days, I still cannot believe that God sent me such an amazing man.

We have shared some deep cutting pain. I know, I do most of the sharing around here. If I am hurting, everyone within earshot knows. I take wearing my heart on my sleeve to a whole new level. You muse. And you pray (quietly). I am the one who got pulled over for a sobriety test because I was talking out loud and with great animation to Our Daddy in the van. You are my rock… because Jesus is your rock. Even when what I am feeling is seeping out of my pores and often my mouth… your calm, your resolve, your peace is my comforting reminder to turn to Jesus. And I thank you for that.

Tonight, as I weep over the joy of  spending the night in the hospital… in order to bring home a baby on Monday.. I know that he is not ours. He may never be ours to keep.  But, he is loved and will be ours for as long as God allows. Which, we have learned in our journey together is all we can ever ask for. To love them now… to love them forever… but to never know just how long they will be with us.

I just wanted to tell you that I love you in our joys, our pains and in the great unknown. Thank you for loving me… neurosis and all.

Xoxoxo,

Me

Little guy needs our prayers so he can come home to us and be loved on 24/7 so that he can grow into a healthy big boy. What he needs to get released is the energy to take all of his feedings by mouth for two full days , no more “events” (which is a nice way of saying .. no codes, no sudden sharp drops or peaks in heart rate or breathing) and steady temperature . Can y’all join me in praying for our little guy?

CeCe

The other day, we listened as one of the DJs announced a new contest: describe your dad in 7 words. Seemed easy enough. Not that we would enter the actual contest.. who has time for that? But I did want to take time out and ask the kids just what they loved about Larry.. in 7 words. Seven words is the challenge. See, James is relatively quiet when it comes to emotions. And Abby? Goodness… ONLY 7 words?

We’ve talked about it for a few days now.. and once Larry went to work, we got to it…

“Daddy takes me to the park even when Mommy says no. He is sweet and He is the best Daddy I could ever have.”

More than seven.  But sweet.

“You chose to be my Dad. Thanks.”

7 on the nose. And a million in my heart.

Happy Father’s Day to a man who chose to love my children.. both of them.. as they were his own. I love you, the kids love you and we are blessed (truly blessed beyond belief)  to celebrate your role in our little family.

• At a play date with Abby’s best friend from dance class, a somewhat violent older child on the playground decided to out and out punch a toddler. Abby said “Ummmmm, we only have NICE hands. Do I NEED to find a time-out area for you?” One would think this comment was directed at said older child. Nope. Older child’s mom.

• At a nice and fancy dinner in a nice and fancy restaurant with our nice little family….

Abby (in her outside voice): Mommy?

Me: yes, sweetie?

Abby: WHY does God give you a period to let you know that you do not have a baby in your tummy? Can He     not   just send flowers or chocolate?

• While “teaching” my mom to play cards, battle to be exact, Abby pulled a 3 and Mom a 6. Frustrated at not winning that singular hand, Abby decides to explain to her NaNa that ” I still win because you are OLD and I am YOUNG. You can’t take it with you, NaNa.”

• At church this Sunday, the kiddie moment included thoughts on envy. The example was : if your brother has a piece of cake, is it OK to want it?  On the way home, Abby looked somewhat bothered and confused. I asked if she was okay. She looked at    me   through the rear view mirror and with the greatest conviction said that she was pretty sure that it was ALWAYS fine to want cake.

While we love our princess more than air… I find myself praying for her future husband.

Have a glorious week!

CeCe

I know, it’s been three years. I should get over it and forget this day. I should look at the bright side and move on. I should allow myself to let go. I should….

I shouldn’t still talk to Eli. I shouldn’t tell him how white the snow is…or how warm the summer sun is on my shoulders… or how big his  sister is getting… I shouldn’t tell him what a remarkable young man James has become. I shouldn’t cry when I get those damned “your baby this month” emails that just. don’t. stop. no. matter. how. many. times. I. unsubscribe. I shouldn’t ask Jesus to kiss my sweet baby when I pray at bedtime. I shouldn’t….

It’s been three years. Countless should and should nots. I would not be honest  if I were to tell you that I can do what I should or not do what I shouldn’t. I can tell you what I WILL do:

I will cry today. I will wipe my tears and enjoy my children. I will be productive and proactive. I will make sure that Hubs knows just how rich he has made my life. I will acknowledge his pain and let him express it in his personal way. (which is usually way healthier than my way) I will kiss my mom and tell her that she is the reason that I know how to love my children with wild abandon. And I will thank God. Yes. I will thank God for my joy and my tears. Both of which have made me who I am: a Mom of three perfectly wonderful children… two wonderfully flawed and one made perfect, at home with Our Daddy.

Happy Angel Anniversary, sweetie. We love you!

Love,

Mommy, Daddy, James , Abby and NaNa

Thursday night, I set off to the store and stocked up on snacks, juice boxes, games and craft kits.. anything to keep Abby happy and help her class have fun. All the while, knowing that Abby may not make it through the ordeal.

Our class ordered one costume and were instructed to make another.  The recital rules were as follows:

1) Hair pulled back, all bows on right side only. No nail polish. Wear make-up.

2) NO panties. (Ever have to talk a 5-year-old into going commando? Needless to say, Abby wore panties… I know to pick my battles)

3) ALL dancers are to remain in the backstage hallway unless they are dancing!! (That’s one hallway, 150 kids, 150 stage moms… aka purgatory)

4) ALL dancers must stay until the finale!

Hubs and I were prepared for the worst. Abby seemed somewhat optimistic. I simply wasn’t buying it. Until….. she reminded me that if she danced, and stayed for the finale… she got a trophy. Hmmmm. Would the desire to hold her very own plastic golden dancer squelch her fears?

Let’s see………

Can you tell this is my sad attempt at costume making?

Nice form!

Abby and her besties from class…

Now, can you imagine keeping just these feet quiet backstage?Tap Tap Tap!

This picture reminds me of that horrible TLC show where Mom’s put their youngin’s in beauty pageants… the corn chips complete the look, I think. I got complaints that I didn’t apply her make up heavy enough… but seriously? Abby already likes to dance around poles at the playground.

Daddy, her Prince Charming, brought her flowers… he is her hero.

All in all, the two days of dance (one dress rehearsal then the recital) were a success… and one I almost look forward to next year.

Love y’all!

CeCe