My Sweet Emerson

Dear Emerson,

I've been so reflective the past few weeks or so as your first birthday draws closer and closer. I can hardly believe we made it through a year. I remember the day you were born like it was just last week, and how you've grown in such a short (or long??) amount of time! What continues to amaze me is how different you are from your brother. I mean, duh. You're your own person. But you have to understand, I've only ever known Denzel as my child. So to have you develop into your own individual and be uniquely you is such a treat to see.

 One of my favorite things about you is your passion. When you are happy, you are obviously happy. You laugh, and it instantly makes my day better, your smile is precious, and those eyes--they are captivating in a personal way. On the other hand, when you're upset, you are obviously upset. You scream like a banchie, kid. I mean, how on earth did you learn to do that? Is that a second-child-I-need-a-voice-too kind of thing? Do you notice that when you're upset I say, "I hear you baby"? I want you to know that you aren't just an accessory, or a baby human that I'm required by law to supervise at all times. You do have a voice, and I recognize that you have needs, wants, desires. I wouldn't be opposed to keeping the banchie scream at home though. I mean, the other Target guests would probably agree with me on that one. :)

My son, you are one of the strongest children I know. I know you're a little big for your age, but the way you manipulate your muscles is well beyond your age and even your size. You are confident physically, and you are sure of your steps. I admire that about you, and pray that you use that boldness to empower those with less strength than yourself. Use your power and strength for good, sweetheart.

The way you love is the most precious thing ever. I'm absolutely giddy over the way you wrap your arms around my neck and give loves. And those eyebrows...everyone comments on how cute they are, but I'm so about your old man eyebrows. I love your chubby feet that don't fit in any shoes, and your baby body that is quickly transforming to look like a little boy's. I love the way you look up to your brother and want to do everything just like him. He's a good kid, I'm glad you look up to him and love him. But I also want you to be you. God has designed you for a specific purpose, and baby you are going to be a world-changer. Your dad and I don't expect you be a CEO or doctor. I could care less what your title is. But I do care that you love people and love God. I already see that in you, my love. When those you care about are down or are crying, your face falls and your empathy is visible. And when someone you love walks in the room, you get so excited then hurry to greet them. You are a joy to know, sweet Emerson.

I've had a few moments of mommy guilt, as they call it, and it's usually remorse that I can't give you exactly what Denzel had as a baby. I can't give you undivided attention, because my arms hold two children now. I can't spend hours reading you books or teaching you new things, because I have work, and another child to balance as well. The guilt is really silly, and is especially silly for you, because I see that the only thing you need is my best. You are thriving right now on the best that I can do. Part of me loves that, and part of me is saddened at the idea that you don't need me quite as much anymore. I mean, the goal is for you to be a fully functioning,  well-adjusted, independent and critically-thinking man. But my soul cries out to hold you one more time as the fresh newborn who hasn't yet opened his eyes. You came from me, and there will always be that bond between you and I, my love. I knew you before you took your first breath. Not as intimately as the Lord, but in the beginning it was me and you kid. And I will be here until the end too. There is nothing you can do that will make me not love you. Nothing. Jesus loves you even more than that, sweetheart. Give him your heart, love him with your whole being, and seek the Lord before anything else.

So as we come up to this milestone of one year of your life outside the womb, my womb, understand that I may be a little emotional. I maybe have to pause and soak in the moment. Because you my boy, are my joy, my delight, and my sweet baby. Remember that when you're 16 years old and 6' 5".

I love you, Emerson.

~Mom

 
  

   

 
 

 
 
 
 

Growth

Personal growth is a pretty incredible thing. It is. Sometimes it pushes you to be a more true version of who you were designed to be. Sometimes I think growth refines a certain part of us. But I don't think personal growth is ever only easy. There might be easy parts, but growth sometimes creates stretch marks. Just ask my torso after carrying a nearly 12 pound baby past 40 weeks. My body has seen growth physically, spiritually, emotionally and mentally in the past handful of years. So let me catch you up to speed.

This journey of pursuing the work I was designed for (aka social work) has been a beautiful and difficult process. I've written in previous posts about how my transition from music to social work was difficult for me, but now looking back I can see the journey was predestined. I worked in foster care and adoptions until I had E, and because we were/are fairly certain he is our last, I knew I couldn't miss out on this time with him. I was able to spend 8 months with Denzel when he was first born, and I wanted more than anything to give "the same" to E. I'm sure all you second borns can understand. Lest you think I was given 8 months of leave by my employer, let me clear up something for you. I was finishing up my master's program and (glory of glories), I had Denzel the week of finals. No really, it was actually a great thing because I had all written finals and presentations (professors let me be the first to present in case he came early) complete prior to that last week. So when he came late, I only missed 1 or 2 classes. Of course I was excused ;) So I graduated, had my new baby and waited to really find a great job. During that time, Patrick and I had a great opportunity with his work to move to California. We had always planned to "end up" here, we just didn't know the timing. So we sort of made the quick decision and knew it was right. We lived with Patrick's parents for 9 months while we carefully decided where to plant roots. For some reason, it's different with kids. As a couple, we moved several times. But once we had Denzel, we knew community and a place to call home were at the top of the priority list. Long story short, I found a great job in Orange County when D was 8 months old. Fast forward to a year ago. I had been looking and looking for a job that provided flexibility, but helped me stay at least somewhat career focused. I enjoy being with my kids, but I never saw myself as a stay-at-home mom long term. God bless those that do!!! So, I proposed a few ideas to the company I was working for and got one door shut after another. I was even offered a supervisor position while I was on leave! I accepted, but guys, it wasn't right. In all of my reviews at work one of my personal goals was to be a leader in a supervisory position. Here it was, and no. It just wasn't the right time, but I literally had no other choice for work and we needed the paycheck. Two weeks before my leave was up, I had a supervisor call me from a different agency about my resume and application. She explained the job to me and asked me if that was truly what I was looking for. I, of course, said yes, we scheduled an interview 2 days later, and she basically offered me the job on the spot. Miraculous my friends. I called my supervisor and told her about my new position. It was something I asked to do at the old company but was told I could not. After hearing I was hired somewhere else, she looked into keeping me on in a similar role to the other agency...and badda bing badda boom...I now contract with TWO agencies! So let me tell you what I do. I write family assessments for prospective foster and adoptive parents. Basically, I come in someone's home, ask them a bunch of super personal questions and say, "You're ready" or "Let's look at this again." I analyze people, work my own schedule, am around a bunch with both my kids, it's incredible. The pay is not so incredible, but this is temporary. And you know what? Sacrifice for these two precious little guys is so worth it.

More than just career-wise, I've sort of taken up a new...hobby. Yeah, I'll call it a hobby. Nutritious eating and healthy living has really become a passion of mine. It began with a realization of a serious addiction I have to sugar. I'm dead serious. Not caffeine, not drugs or alcohol, sugar. Most people eat more sugar than they're aware of, but after some real observations of myself I realized I rely on sugar for my mental health. Basically, when I'm stressed, happy, depressed, any overwhelming feeling, I eat sugar. Cookies, candy, and many other things I forgot I even ate. It became routine to put sugar in my mouth. It has been quite a process to cut out sugar, which by the way is not food but a chemical, but I continue to fight the good fight. My kids are my inspiration in that. I stick something in front of them, and they eat it. Even Denzel knows the role sugar plays in our house. One of his favorite statements is, "Sugar is not good for our bodies, it just tastes good." Parenting win folks. Parenting win. I'm not a perfect, sugar-free mom, but I try my best. And when I fall, I eventually pick back up and try again. So, this new way of eating has spurred my interest in natural living, which means different things to different people. For me it means no chemicals, toxins and going back to the old way of living. You know, like growing your own food, being active, prioritizing sleep...those sorts of things. It's been probably 9 months or so since I've been serious about the food we put in our mouth, and I've seen some pretty incredible changes. After month 3 of this, we all got sick with Jonesmagedden. 3 months we were sick with *different* ailments. Colds, fevers, no fevers, flu, runny nose, stuffy nose, throw up, diarrhea, rashes, croup, respiratory, ear infections, pink eye. It was UNENDING. 2 or more family members were sick at all times during this 3 months. It's only a theory, but I think because we had changed our diet so much, and Denzel was exposed to so many new germs from his new preschool, and the new baby, and the no sleep...I think that was to blame for Jonesmagedden. But you know what? We've been sick since, and whoever is sick is only down for 24 hours or less, and it's been pretty minor. Even when others around us are dropping like flies, we are okay. So I'm hooked. I can't undo the knowledge I have now, and I can't unremember the feeling I have when I eat well versus eating crap. There's no going back, but that's okay because it's been fun to learn new things about healthy living and nutritious eating. This way of eating has also expanded my ability to cook and bake good things. It feels good to feed my family well, and truthfully, to see my own body transform as a result. I know I'm still breastfeeding, and that is a large part of my weight loss, but I haven't weighed this little since before we got married. I'm hoping this is where I'll stay, and the muscles continue to develop. (Emerson really messed up my muscles. In some respect I feel like I'm starting over at square one with my strength.) So there's health.

Mentally I think I've struggled a little more. I had postpartum for a good long time after Emerson. And I sort of knew it, but literally could do nothing about it. And my poor family felt the effects. I remember struggling so much with Denzel those first three months, being just a generally angry person, and struggling to find joy in anything. It wore on my marriage, my relationship with my kids, and just my outlook on life. There was a point when I remember very clearly thinking, "I don't want this life." I don't want a relationship, don't want kids, diapers, nothing. I don't want any of it. I want to run away. A few times I planned where I would escape to. One time I remember thinking (you're going to laugh), "Maybe I'll just go to a hotel for a few nights...but then I'll have to pump and I don't want Emerson to have formula." Just nonsense. But it's real dude. I thought about escaping to many places. I thought about how long I would be gone. Nothing made sense in my mind, and thank goodness because I never acted on it. I broke down one night at the kitchen sink. I told Patrick I don't want this any more. He came up behind me and just held me. I didn't appreciate it fully at the time. But now I see what a gem of a partner I have. Soooo....I'm fine now :) I went to my therapist, have extended myself and my family grace, and have really just set priority in choosing what I do with my time intentionally. Again, a process, but things are starting to settle in place. Patrick and I are going on dates again, Emerson isn't nursing as much, Denzel is balanced again, and we're functioning as a cohesive family. Things are good. But it doesn't come naturally--you have to choose this and find some way to make it happen. Can I just make a plug here? If you have some sort of stigma against therapy, can I just challenge you? I have heard many, many positive things come from work in therapy. I have experienced positive things from therapy myself. Don't knock it and think you can do life on your own all the time. We were designed to be communal beings. You don't live on an island by yourself. If not therapy, find a quality friend. Ok. The end.

So there's been a lot going on, below the surface and above. All positive things, and I can say that now that I'm on this side of the tough stuff. Personal growth has been a process, but it feels good to look at this life I've been given and feel good about the direction ahead. Grow. Stretch. Challenge yourself. I don't think you'll be disappointed.