Looking Back...Looking Ahead...and Looking Here.

Maybe next year December moments will descend like snow so peaceful, all perfectly arranged in an order of sense and stability.  But this year's holiday season was a blizzard of swirling, whirling flakes falling rather haphazardly, yet all were so necessary.  First Colie's wedding, then Mother's surgery, followed by Maylie's birth, our big move, Christmas, then Tate's birthday.  I kept wondering when the straw would come that would break our little world's back.  But not surprisingly, the straw never came....all thanks to a loving Father who never gives us more than He knows we can handle.  Without the grace from our Savior I'm not sure we could have made it.  But with Him I have learned that we can do all things that are expedient.

And now I sit as if perched on a swing...overlooking the waters of 2011.  It was a year of trial by fire.  It was a year of moving three times, growing closer to family, of sickness and health, of healing and hope, of birth.  When I wondered upon all that would transpire clear back in January, I was anxious and afraid for all that lay ahead.  But a soft glow filled my worried heart and a voice whispered that this would be a wonderful year--a year to remember.

And it was.

It was my year of Eucharisteo...of counting the graces, the gifts, the mercies so freely given from heaven above.  It was a year of discovering a life that I wish to live, even a life of holiness.

And 2012 looms so promising and wondrous.  Patrick will graduate and hopefully find a job to provide for our growing little family.  We will enjoy life here in the country in this quaint little cottage until it is time to move on (and I hope that day is so very far away.)

This coming year has a theme just as last year did.  And building upon a year of thanks, 2012 will be a year of moments.  A year to discover and savor each and every moment--pleasant and unpleasant.  A year to treasure up what I see and feel and hear and experience.  A year of no regret because I will live in the present...and enjoy each and every moment.  The past will serve as a book of reminiscence, but my mind will not linger too long in sorrowed nostalgia.  The future will shine as a distant star, but I will not let my gaze be solely fixed upon it.  For the present is here and if it is not gathered in and embraced, tomorrow's past will be gray and lifeless and the future will beckon as something always just out of reach.  

So I dedicate 2012 to all of the moments and the memories that will be collected like little light-filled lanterns upon the waters of the year.  And at the end of the year, I hope to sit on the swing again and gaze upon the waters of a glorious, shining 2012...all aglow with the millions of moments--lived well.

Meeting Big Brothers.

Tate was ready and dying to hold her the second they arrived.

I will never forget the sweetness of this moment for as long as I live

Though it looks like he's holding her, you can see Patrick's hand holding Maylie up to Easton.  Easton wasn't quite ready to hold her he told us.

All Tate could say was, "Baby's so cute.  Maylie's so cute!" over and over again.  He loved to touch cheeks with her, smell her, give her eskimo and butterfly kisses, and feel her hair.

And it's just the beginning....

The night He sent us Grace...

Monday began as any other day.  I woke up and went about my usual routine wondering if today would be the day and doubting it would be.  I knew we had a doctor's appointment later in the evening.  I was simply looking forward to my doctor scheduling an induction.

When our 4:45 appointment rolled around, my doctor gave us the induction paper and informed us that Wednesday would be the day.  I had a feeling that this was when it would be and I was grateful he was able to get us in.  After stripping my membranes once more, we went home, had a lovely turkey pot pie for dinner, and my contractions began the minute we were home.  I didn't tell Patrick for a while because I didn't want to get his hopes up.  I had had a night of false labor contractions the week before and I just knew these would stop just as they had before.  When I finally told him, it had been over an hour of every 5 minute contractions.  They were gradually starting to get stronger.

We got the boys ready for bed...or at least Patrick did while I laid on the bed...and then Patrick began packing the hospital bag.  I kept telling him that he really shouldn't be doing this because I knew they were going to stop and then he would just have to put everything away again.  He was convinced they were real.  By 8:00 they were coming about 2 minutes apart and getting more intense and so I consented to go to the hospital.

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By the time we found my lost phone, started driving down the road, turned around when we realized we had forgotten the diaper bag, and got back on the road I was in severe pain.  I fought back the tears while Patrick sped to the hospital (he told me he'd always wanted the experience of driving me to the hospital in labor).

The walk to the hospital was long and then when we reached the second floor we were stuck outside of the locked doors, ringing the bell and wondering if anyone would let us in.  Terror gripped me as I contemplated delivering right here on the floor.  When someone finally let us in, there was no one at the desk.  I could barely stand.  I leaned against the counter and looked at the clock.  It was after 9.  We waited for a nurse or someone to help us, but the minutes ticked by making me wonder if there was anyone here tonight.  I wondered if this would be indicative of how the rest of the hospital trip would be and my worry made the pain even worse.  Finally, the resident doctor walked out of a room, saw us, and asked if we were here for an induction.  Patrick told him I was in labor and he rushed off to find a nurse (after giving me a chair).  When the nurse came, I stood up and couldn't choke back the tears any more.  I cried partly because of the pain but more because I was just so grateful that someone was finally helping us.

Minutes later I was laying in the bed, 6-7 centimeters dilated, praying the anesthesiologist would be here quickly, and watching the beautiful orange lights glowing from the large window.  The scene was really quite lovely and I tried to focus on the beauty and ignore the pain.  When the nurse offered some medication to take the edge off the pain, I was reluctant.  I used it with Easton and I couldn't keep my eyes open but still felt every contraction.  After another painful contraction, though, I relented and prayed this time it would be different.  Thankfully, it was.

While we waited, everyone (the two doctors, nurse, and Patrick and I) made guesses as to when Maylie's arrival would be.

{Needless to say, I guessed completely wrong.  Take note of Patrick's guess...}

When the anesthesiologist finally arrived, I was so relieved.  But my anticipation for a pain-free delivery was short-lived when the epidural only half worked.  My right side was so completely numb while my left side was completely normal.  This was my third epidural and I was so sad that this time it just didn't work out as I had planned.  However, there was no turning back and though the pain was grueling on my left side, we endured the last stretch.

The doctors were ready to break my water, but I asked them to wait a little longer to see if the epidural would kick in.  They told me to lay on my left side and it worked a little bit, but as soon as I rolled to my back to begin the delivery, the pain was back.

Patrick stood by my side holding my hand and letting me squeeze with every contraction.  He asked me if I could see the red tile roofs of Portugal and I tried to envision myself in the place we love so much.  When the pain was almost unbearable he told me to think of my angel mother who went through over 18 hours (or was it 24) of painful natural birth with me.  I was posterior and the delivery was agonizing.  I pictured our sweet grandmothers and great-grandmothers there by my side and felt the veil thin as the time drew near.

And then so quickly the moment was here and I was in awe that it was all happening so fast.  The doctors and nurse gathered round and told me to push on a contraction.  I did so.  And with the very next contraction and the last push, she was here...

I held her so perfect and fresh from God's presence and the tears came again as I prayed thanks over and over to my loving Heavenly Father for this sweet miracle, this sweet grace.  I can't get this moment out of my mind and every time I think about it my sobs start again as I relive the preciousness of it all.  How can pen even express the magnitude of the moment of birth?  The day when all your woven together dreams of the past 9 months {and in truth your whole entire life} are now handed straight to your hands.  And no matter how hard you try to capture and bottle the moment, it slips away in all of its grandeur and perfectness and peace.  The minutes pass and it's over--never to happen again.  And yet the memory of it all keeps making your heart ache with longing and yearning and saudade to go back...just one more time...to hear that first cry...

Maylie Grace was born at Tuesday, November 29th, at 12:32 am (Patrick guessed 12:36).  And as they say, "Monday's child is fair of face; Tuesday's child is full of grace."

And she was.  And she is.  And I still can't believe she is mine.

Once Upon a Time...

...a Princess was born.

And they called her Maylie Grace.

No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace
As I have seen in one autumnal face.
~John Donne

She was born early early Tuesday morning, November 29th at 12:32 am.

She weighed 6 lbs. 15 oz. and was 20 inches long.

I can't believe my Little Star has arrived to my arms.

More pictures will follow along with her precious birth story...