I have been wanting to respond to all of your beautiful posts; but, I have been feeling weird. And, none of the things I want to say are as joyous as the life events about which you have written.
I feel like we are in a "waiting room" of sorts.
We are still waiting for test results to more clearly define dad's prognosis. I am grateful he is happy and comfortable. I am grateful for the care he is receiving at the facility we moved him, five days ago. (But, still waiting, trying not to worry, praying)
I am still waiting for the right time to talk with mom about the hard stuff. I have been waiting for a long time for her to begin healing. I am so grateful to see her doing well. It felt so good to be with her/near her/to talk to her, knowing that she was really listening. (Thank you, mom. I miss you already)
I am still disappointed that I was sick when you were in labor. I am glad that we got better quickly and could come and see 2-day-old Greta. I love seeing you come into your own as a mother. It's beautiful. (Enjoying the moments, I hope? Waiting for the hard stuff to get easier? It always does.)
I am looking forward to our homeschooling journey this year, more so than any other year. I don't really know why. I am just excited. I feel like we are at the "brink" of some serious fun and learning. We start our regular fall routine next week (we never really stop learning/school; but, we do relax a lot more in the summer). Waiting to start (good waiting).
I have home and yard renovations on my mind. No money yet; but, I have them on my mind. Lol. (Waiting. Patient waiting)
My boys and I are going to our family reunion tomorrow (for my husband's side). But, my husband is on a fishing trip (waiting for him to come home).
I try not to put off little things that I want to get done. It makes the "waiting" for the big stuff more bearable.
I love you, sister. You were also worth the "wait".
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Friday, August 09, 2013
My Darling Caterpillar,
You came into this world at 1:48 am on a Sunday in July. It was the second coldest week on record. We named you Greta Maeve.
I didn’t see you right away…the doctors had to make sure you were ok because you pooped inside Mama. You came ten days later than we anticipated, so I understood this was normal…when you gotta go, you gotta go.
Daddy cut your umbilical cord. He was the first person to hold you. He was so proud of you. You kept sticking your tongue out at him (and crying) as the doctors were examining you. He told me that you were so beautiful because I couldn’t see you from where I was.
When they put you in my arms, I couldn’t believe it. You are such a little miracle. I couldn’t believe you were mine. You latched onto my right breast right away, and it was the most amazing thing to witness. It was love at first sight with you, my darling. I knew it would be.