Valentine's Day Shmalentine's Day

You know, I never had a boyfriend on the most romantic of days, until my Michael came along. I kind of thought to myself " it's just another day". And that helped me cope with seeing all my girlfriends receiving their balloons and flowers and goodies. But the allure of the pink and red that adorned all the stores always tugged at my heartstrings. I remember when I was older, sending my mom flowers or picking her up some chocolates. Once, I remember getting her a new vacuum (yeah, not so sure about the thought process behind that one). Anyway, as far back as I can remember Mom would get us a tiny little box of chocolates. She was my only valentine. Then about 12 years ago,  Michael and I  spent our very first Valentine's day together.


We had only been dating a couple weeks, and this whole thing was very new to me. I knew we weren't serious enough for an "I love you" balloon or stuffed animal, because I still felt very nervous around him and the awkwardness of our dates and phone conversations proved that he felt the same. Desperate, I called his sister, whom I had barely ever spoken to, to give me some advice. She told me that Michael was a huge fan of eagles. Not the band. The actual bird. And that he had a little collection (yes, kind of like an old lady) of ceramic ones. You would think finding out my masculine suitor had a collection of knickknacks would send me in the opposite direction. But, I just thought it was precious and it made me like him a little more. And, with this new information, I had finally decided what to get him. He showed up at my mom's and he looked SOOOOO cute. I was very nervous, and my stomach was fluttering away. For some reason, my mom and my best friend Jennifer watched intently (adding to the weirdness) as I gave him the coolest looking ceramic eagle with a little clock nestled between his body and the branch where he rested. Then Michael gave me red flowers and a pink box of chocolates. My very first REAL valentine gift. It was very obvious that mine wasn't the only stomach with butterflies. We told our spectators goodbye, and we went to meet his sister and my cousin (they were dating at the time) for supper. We held hands on the way. Then after our meal, we headed home. He was my valentine, and I was his. It was sweet. Simple. Memorable.


Millions of more comfortable conversations and sweet kisses and warm hugs and giggles and a prom and 2 graduations and countless arguments and a wedding and job changes and 4 pregnancies and weight gain and burnt suppers and pretty good suppers and more weight gain and stretch marks and the end of all shaving, and tshirts forging their way into dressy attire, and the purchase of the coolest minivan ever, and  a lil more weight gain, and a million more conversations, and sweet kisses and warm hugs, and giggles later, we are still, very much, each other's valentines.


Last night, after receiving an invitation via text message that read like this:


You.
Me.
Loredo.
NO KIDS!


I smiled to myself and giddily tried to find something to wear that made me look less mom-ish. But considering I haven't lost enough weight to come out of my maternity wear, this proved a bit difficult. We dumped the kids like a bad habit and took off in his truck to Loredo Grill. I couldn't help but notice that he looked SOOOO cute. On the way, we had the greatest uninterrupted (and comfortable) conversation about everything and nothing. And we held hands. Then in the parking lot, before walking in, we shared a sweet kiss without the eyes of laughing little ones burning our cheeks. Over chips and salsa, the giggles were abundant as we share the same odd and sometimes demented sense of humor. And before picking up our little ones, headed up the steps to my inlaw's house, we shared a familiar warm hug. We still got it.


Feeling more in love than ever as our night came to a close,  I couldn't help but think, "It's just another day".

SURPRISE!

Right or wrong, sometimes its easier to just sweep something under the rug, than to hash it all out. That's what I am going to do about my absence from my blog....sweep it under the rug. I have a million excuses for not writing, but not a single one that makes my heart feel better. I feel best when I am right with my God, and venting to you guys on a regular basis. So, rather than list all my excuses, can we just sweep this one and pick up where we left off?








While talking about my new pregnancy to a group of girls at church, I used the word "accident" to describe it. After all, the Neva, Nori and Mili pregnancies were very well planned. This last one, well, it wasn't on purpose. And something that isn't on purpose is an accident, right? My mom used lovingly refer to me and my little brother as accidents.... I didn't get a complex. Well, judging by their facial expressions, I don't think "accident" is a very PC way to describe an up and coming bundle of joy. So, we are going to go with "surprise" from here on out. Much sweeter. Anyway, when I found out, I was very, very happy.....Shocked, to say the least. But very happy. I could not imagine going through a pregnancy and a delivery without my mom. It was definitely a journey. Each day there was an ache or a pain, or new development that I wanted so badly to share with her. Things that no one else really cares to hear about, except your mom. Throughout my pregnancy, the thought of her would just kill me. I made a valiant effort to not even think of her. And even though I said I would not list them, this is one huge reason I did not write to you guys. My beautiful and crazy girls kept me very distracted. And this pregnancy came equipped with it's own load of distractions. I really felt the wear and tear of 4 back to back pregnancies and couldn't help but think that age played a part in it too. I was very scared of what life with four children would be like...As most of you with kids know, a trip to walmart with ONE kid can be trying. Four? How in the world? But with each passing day, I grew excited to rise to the challenge, and meet my beautiful baby.
I could write a novel about my delivery, but I'll cut it short. A couple weeks before my due date, I took Neva to school on a Friday morning after having been up all night with what I assumed was some pretty rough Braxton Hicks. From the school, I went to the donut shop and met Jamina (my sister in law) and she took Mili and Nori. Michael tied up loose ends at the shop and jumped in the car with me to head to the hospital. This would be my second trip to the hospital in a short amount of time. The first time was (kind of) a false alarm. I was contracting and had dilated to 4, which I understand isn't that uncommon for a fourth pregnancy. But I stopped at that point. A couple weeks later, here we were on our way, for what could be, a second false alarm. The monitor revealed I was indeed contracting, but I was still at 4. So, they gave me pain meds and sent me home. About 8 hours of constant and increasing pain later, I was done trying to be tough. This day had been horrible and the pain shot they had given me, three hot baths, nor resting in any position had helped. I was going back for my third false alarm. I arrived at the hospital a second time in one day and immediately found out that I was dilated to 9. After begging and pleading with hospital staff to give me an epidural (Michael often makes fun of my begging for drugs), they agreed. When my pain was at it's peak, tears streaming my face, I repeated several times "I want my Mama. I want my Mama", just like a frightened child. After all, a frightened child is exactly what I felt like. I got my meds, and less than 15 minutes later, I would be pushing. 2 pushes and there she was! My little 8lb 2oz accident surprise! The cutest lil thing I've ever seen. I cried so hard upon seeing her. I wanted to glance over and see my mom with tears in her eyes, caressing my forehead and kissing my cheek. Telling me I did good and she was so proud of me. I wanted us to guess what she weighed and wait in suspense to see who came the closest like we did with the others. But, her usual spot to the side of me was vacant. And this tortured my heart.... My Michael was there, and I wouldn't trade him. But he'll never be able to offer what she did. A mother's love. My sweet mother in law, still limping from her stroke, slowly made her way to my hospital bed. I saw the tears in her eyes as she leaned down and kissed my cheek gently. She wasn't trying to replace anyone. But, having lost her mother early like me, she knew in my heart there was a battle between overwhelming joy, and absolute anguish. I'll never be able to repay her for that one tiny gesture that was so incredibly huge. I was so thankful for her in that moment. Then I held my baby. She was perfect. An angel handpicked by my mom, I was sure of it. She had a smushed nose like Neva. And around her mouth kind of looked like Nori. But that was about all the resemblance I could see. She wasn't dark complected with black hair like the others at birth. She was light complected, with brown hair. A head full. I fed her the natural way right there in the delivery room. She figured it out quickly and that reminded me of Mili, who was born starving just 20 months earlier. I felt mom in that moment. She was in the room. She was in the bright blue eyes of my new baby girl. She was right there in my heart like she promised me she would be.






My hospital stay was amazing like always. SCRMC is THE BEST place to have a baby, hands down. The nurses are pros. The whole staff is incredible and they cater to you like royalty. I wanted to stay, but I so missed my babies. And for that reason, I was eager to get home. It's always intimidating to me, leaving the hospital with a newborn. I don't care how many kids you've had....Now youre going home with an extra. It's scary! Three to four was a huge adjustment. But we did great. And even though I still don't know how to do Wal Mart with four kids, we're adjusting to life as a family of 6 just beautifully. I am now a mother of four. Actually, I think that needs to be capitalized, FOUR. Who has four kids? I mean, really, who does? Me and the Duggar lady. That's about it. But I've got to tell ya, God sure does know better than me. Because the addition of my little surprise, was no accident at all. This is exactly the way it's supposed to be.... Life is beautiful.