Joy

Parker knows today is our baby angel's birthday. She asked me if we could put two candles on his birthday cake and if she and "Tot-baby" could blow the candles out. Yes was all I could say out loud. In my head...my heart...that yes was spoken a thousand times over. 

Yes to every day, every moment with my babies. Yes to every late night, early morning, every argument, every birthday candle, each hectic moment, all the happiest days & even a quiet yes to those that sting. Yes to the very idea that I get to spend those moments with the two Littles that God not only gave me, but let me keep. 

Even though we don't really bring him up a lot, our Angel Baby has been on my precious Parker's mind lately. While driving in the car one day I overheard her sweet voice tell her brother, "God took our other baby to heaven. He went to celebrate Jesus' birthday. Mommy really has three kids. You, me and Hayes Andrew. " I had to rearrange the rearview mirror so she couldn't see my eyes when she looked up at me. She has the purest of hearts. She thinks deeper than most adults I know and while my knee jerk reaction is to shelter her from all the painful things, with a mind and heart like hers, it just won't work. She needs to think and talk and feel. I think she waits to see how the adults she loves and trusts handles the hard things. 

My girl is the one who got me through the worst loss I've ever felt. She gave me hope and a reason to keep smiling, keep breathing and keep showing her how to live. The baby boy who has blessed our lives since losing Hayes Andrew is nothing short of an answered prayer. Parker and I say God gave him to us because He knew we had love saved up in our hearts that we needed to share. There have been few days in our sweet MAC boy's life where I haven't looked into those eyes that are so similar to his sister's and remind him that he is my Blessing. He is our miracle and he has healed so many cracks in my little family's hearts. He completes us. 

Our Angel Baby's 2nd heavenly birthday feels different than the first. At this time last year we were still trying to recover but this year is a different shade of remembering. This year our birthday celebration, our day to remember our 2nd born comes at the end of a year filled not with sadness, but with joy. We've done a lot of growing this year. A lot of healing.

This morning instead of letting my head (and my heart) relive the worst morning, I'm going to focus on joy.

Joy of listening to my McCoy boy "ooh" and "coo" on the pillow next to me. 

The sweet joy of hearing the patter of Parker baby's feet as she whispers around looking for her elf's new morning hiding place. 

The joy of a friend who walks the hallway to deliver a hug, a sweet handwritten note and the most beautiful wooden angel wings. 

And the understanding of a coworker who simply whispers, "whatever you need" when asked if she can cover my kids for a few minutes today so I can get a start on my drive to Tahlequah. 

And the thousands of other reasons I have each day to smile, hug the people God has let me keep and tuck the ones in heaven deeper in my heart. 

Last year's sprinkles of joy have multiplied. 

This Guy

This guy.

We have our rough moments & Lord knows I get frustrated, but I have to say I've been pretty proud of him this weekend. For his birthday, he decided it would make for a good memory to take the kids to a Cardinals game.

The icing on the cake was his parents and grandparents also being able to go.

Even though it would've been easy to go on in, he missed the first inning or two of the game yesterday because the kids and I couldn't check in to our room yet and he didn't want to leave us (he went to two games, the kids and I just went to the one on Sunday). As I'm sure with most parents, we've come to learn movement is slow when both kids are in tow.

You can either take it in stride or spend precious time aggravated and frustrated instead of enjoying the moment.

While he could've been impatient with us at lunch today (McCoy was sleepy and Parker is THREE), he ate lunch with us in a very busy restaurant, waited in line and then walked us into the ballpark happily.

It was our first time to ever be there so to walk with him and see a place that holds so many memories for him was something.

To top it off, he wrestled McCoy almost as much as I did during the game (every Mama knows how much that makes ya love your husband😍😘). 

Michael Curtsinger-while I don't always acknowledge it, there are moments where I'm so proud of the dad and husband you are. This weekend was one of those moments. Thank you for recognizing that this weekend was about family; about introducing our little family to something you love so much and making a memory that won't be forgotten.

After watching the game with you today (& hearing the crowd chant their love for Holliday), I can say I'm a fan.

I love you babe. Here's to a great 30th year.

Grace

The day has finally come. I'm leaving my precious babies five days a week and heading back to the classroom. I've only had one meltdown so far...but it's 5:30am. The day is young. :-)

It's going to be a good day. The sweet kids in my classroom have waited 27 days to have their teacher show up for them. That's me. I'm their teacher. Who knows how many times those babies have waited for someone to show up and that day never came. However sad I may be on the inside, I'm going to show up. I'm going to high five them, hug them, guide them and maybe even teach them something. I'd want someone to do that for my kiddos. 

I needed last year. I lovingly referred to it as my "mental health year." People (teachers) take mental health days, well after we lost the baby, I needed a little more than a year. I got it. I don't know if it was enough, but It'll have to be for now. I may not be perfectly healed, but by the grace of God, the birth of McCoy Andrew  and all those who love me, I've healed perfectly. Every time I look into the perfectly matching eyes of my two kiddos I know that. 

The name of the game this week is GRACE. Grace for myself because I'm leaving my baby boy (who so sweetly only allowed me about 4 1/2hrs sleep) and because there are abundantly too many emails in my inbox at school that after 10 years of teaching, don't make any sense to me. Should make for an interesting first day.

Grace. 

I'm going to show up though. I'm going to walk through that door and care and remember; just as I had to leave my home and my most precious people this morning, each one of those little people left their home and their people too. 

It's a great day to create a great day...even if there are a few tears involved and it stands on the backbone of a whole lot of coffee.  

It Takes Confidence

Have you ever been crazy protective of something? Like when you're a teenager and you get some awesome pair of shoes/jeans/sunglasses and there's no way you're going to let your younger brother/sister/cousin borrow them. You aren't trying to be mean. You're not! You have just really wanted the shoes/jeans/sunglasses for so long, you aren't willing to trust anyone else with them. 

Or maybe a new relationship. You aren't really sure what it is yet, it may be SOMETHING...or it may not work out...but either way you keep it close to home and sure as hell don't drag him/her to Sunday supper to meet your embarrassing storytelling aunt or dirty joke sharing uncle. Not until you're sure. Sure it'll last. It'll stick. It's the real deal. Not something you're going to shout from the rooftops and then have to take back a week later. 

I know some people are an open book. They have the confidence to share -what seems like- everything. Confidence. Sharing your life, letting people in, takes confidence. That kind of confidence is one of my weakest areas. Especially if I've been hurt by sharing too much, too soon before. 

All of this is to say, when we found out we are pregnant again after losing our precious boy, after gut wrenching sorrow, after another, almost year of trying, we didn't shout it from the rooftops. Actually when I first found out, I sat down in my closet floor, hugged my legs close and prayed to God above to be present. To help. To protect this baby and my heart in a way only He could. Right or wrong, we didn't tell anyone. We went to the doctor before we told our Moms. We had full ultrasounds before we told grandmas. We were over 12 weeks before we shared the news with Parker. We just couldn't "take it back" again. We couldn't share our greatest joy while we were holding it with the most fragile of hands, fully prepared to be shattered at any moment. 

Of course baby #3, by 14 weeks was more than showing, so the people in our every day lives had to know. Still, there was no proclamation. It was whispered. If we said it too loud it might disappear. 

As the weeks have gone on, we've become a little more comfortable. Every two weeks our doctor confirms the heartbeat. Every two weeks I hold my breath until we hear the hoof beats. At 18ish weeks kicking/physical movement finally started.  We had gender ultrasounds and still everything's ok. It's better than ok, it's been less of a roller coaster than Parker was. 

This weekend I went home and ran a race with my daughter and numerous friends and family members. This weekend, I decided it was time to stop keeping the miracle in my stomach a secret and not delete a comment about my belly or a picture that's of more than my head from facebook. I just decided (along with Mike) that it's time. It's time to take a deep breath and stand in the hope and the uncertainty that IS growing another human being. To not shy away from seeing someone on the street because they might see my belly. 

We are pregnant. Seven months, 28 weeks pregnant. Good Lord willing we will know the joy of having a baby boy on the ground in July. Parker could not be more excited. We could not be more fearfully hopeful. 

Pray for us. Remember us. And bless your heart, if your toes are currently feeling stepped on because we haven't shared the news with you sooner, try to put yourself in our shoes and understand that us protecting the presence of this baby boy was about self preservation and love...and fear. Not about anyone else. 

He's coming though. In T-minus 12 weeks, we'll have a baby brother to love. Some days are easier to believe it than others, but the kicks and tumbles along with the belly kisses from my sweet girl  help reaffirm the joy and hope that God has put back in our lives.