Endless

There are no words...

Just kidding.  I'm full of words, meandering, destination-less, endless words.

In the past few months I have had a front row seat to birth and death.  Simultaneously.  If that doesn't fill you with words and non-stop philosophical thoughts, nothing will.  Here I am sitting comfortably in what I assume to be the middle of my life (or near there), while I welcomed my son into the world and eased my mother out of this world.  Amazing how similar our entrance and exits are, it's as if we all start and end in the same place.  We begin our lives on one long walk, at some point, we turn around and head back to where we came from.  Some realize when they've turned around and started home, but I'm guessing most of us will never really recognize that turning point.  Just one day, we're there.

Anybody who has ever spent some time with me in a bar past 2 am during my 20's (and probably now, if I could ever find myself in a bar) knows, I'm not good with endings.

There's only one thing we all have in common, we're all gonna die.  We all know this, I just can't wrap my head around it.  Sure we're all small and insignificant in the grand scheme of things.  Our physical existence is like a season, changing, evolving and ultimately ending.  But while we're here, we are HUGE.  We feel and we love, we succeed and we fail, we live...

My mother was my home.  Past the age of five (the age of my oldest now, all in perspective), it was just Mom & Me.  As a little girl, losing my mother was my biggest fear, I'm not entirely sure why, it was such an odd thing to obsess over so young.  I thought about it far more than any grade school aged girl should have.  I much preferred to host the sleepover than attend one, I liked knowing my mom was close.  I could be down right clingy and anxious those early years.   At some point, I aged a bit and mom no longer knew anything, we bickered often, "like two cats in a bag" she would say.  Like most teenagers, I prided myself in doing the exact opposite of my mother's wishes, just to keep things interesting.  But, she was always home to me, I always knew she was there.

Mom always wanted a big family, said she had always hoped to be a farm wife.  She had picked out at least a dozen baby names.  Things didn't go as she dreamed, she ended up with just little ol' me.  I watched her struggle to raise me on her own, putting aside any wishes she may have had for herself, for me.  She would tell me, "there are great men out there, if you find he right one, he will notice when you're struggling, and he will make your life easier, meaningful, you'll share everything, you'll feel loved, it can really be amazing..."  She would go on and on of this fairy tale man.  Advice from a woman running a broken household, I would roll my eyes and mumble, "sure mom, find Mr. Perfect and everything is roses, yeah, yeah..."

But subconsciously, I must have really hung on to that.  True success to me has always been a happy, loving family.  So far, I feel very successful, and that is a rosy feeling.  Hmm, silly Mom was on to something...

Mom loved driving around, looking at Christmas lights, looking in neighborhoods we'd never afford, or just "seeing where that road goes".  When I was a little girl, I would be nervous, "Mom, we don't know where we're going!"  She would just laugh and say, "Robyn, the earth is round, if we get lost, we'll eventually end up back where we started.  Relax."

To this day, I'm most comfortable when I set out on a trip, without a clear destination.  I'll figure it out along the way.  Besides, if I always knew exactly where I as going, I would eventually get there, and the journey would end.  Not big on endings.

My mom would hum the same little tune to me each night and endlessly rub my back if I begged.  I would catch myself humming that same little tune, whenever I needed soothing, never really realizing where it came from.  Until I had my own children of course, then I would hum that tune to them.  I instantly knew where it came from, her heart.

My mom made cakes.  She made sweet, loving birthday cakes.  I remember going to birthday parties where the cake came from the local bakery or grocery store and thinking, Oh my! Oh no! That poor kid doesn't have a mom that loves him! (Don't fret bakery cake Mom's, I know, you still love.)  But a homemade birthday cake, with my name in mom's frosting handwriting = love.  My mom never failed at that.  Love.

My mom knew how to attract a crowd.  For just being the two of us, our home was always filled with family and friends.  My pals always knew where to get a hot meal and some extra motherly love.  Mom had more than her dozen children over the years, one way or another.

My mom was a teacher.  When she wasn't busy making me feel loved (which I think she made a full time job), she was working at the school.  She hosted food drives, blood drives, after school clubs, all in addition to her general teaching duties.  There were no shortage of compliments at her visitation, so many came to say "I am where I am now because of your mom", "your mom believed in me when no one else did", "there were so many times I wanted to quit, but your mom wouldn't let me give up".

Mom was the prom queen, back when the honor was given to beautiful people who were nice to everyone.  She was indeed, nice to everyone.  I'm almost bitter that she would always put everyone before herself, perhaps her health could have held up better had she focused more on herself.  But that's just not who she was.

I can't imagine life without my mom.  Remember the clingy, paranoid child I described?  She somehow raised me to be darn independent despite my apron hugging tendencies.  Mom was big on tough love.  I would come home crying "someone made fun of me", "some kid pushed me"...  Get back out there she'd say, if I solve your problems you won't learn a thing.  Or my favorite "what did you do to them first?"  Always devil's advocate Mom was.  Oh how I just wanted her to tell me I was right and they were wrong, she could have thrown in a little sing songy "snookums, or buttercup or princess".

Never happened. Never.

I'm so much better for it.  She loved me.  She didn't live my life for me.  Genius, that woman.

Now I'm still here, living my life, that she gave me...raising her grandchildren.  She's still here, in all she left behind.  I can't imagine a time without my mother, because it doesn't exist.  Her impression on those she loved, is endless.

Before we start this new year:

Closing 2014 brings so many emotions around here this year.  We've had some of the greatest highs and some of the lowest lows, I feel as if I haven't had the chance to appropriately experience any of them.  I even considered skipping this post, as if not acknowledging the entire year, would make the few tough times disappear all together.  But if I disregard all of 2014 due to some rough patches, I'd be missing out on a lot of beautiful memories.  (It's hard being an "all or nothing" kinda gal sometimes.)

I've started and stopped this post so many times.

I love photos.  Let's do photos:

We took the difficult trail, we had a great time.
What a metaphor.

We took a stroll through prairies and saw sunsets like these.

We celebrated Mother's Day

We flew a kite.

We got into some sticky situations.

We helped each other.

We had some cheap thrills.

We rolled down grassy hills.

We fished, of course.

We took a medical "vacation"....

...and we made it family time...

....and we rocked it in our own little way.

We ate blueberries right off the bush.

We said hello to a horse.

We created some art.

We found a new berry patch.

We hiked here.

...and here

...and here...

...we even tried to hike here..

...we hiked in tutus too.

I witnessed the girls searching for a better view each time a summer storm rolled in.

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

We picked a way to have fun every day.

A full day is a good day.

We spent some time appreciating our roots and enjoying a harvest.

Emeline ate her weight (or more) in sweet corn, and learned the value of a planting more than one seed.

.

Speaking of planting more than one seed....we welcomed our own little harvest this fall.
Baby William joined our family and filled our hearts, reminding us life is worth repeating every chance we get.

We felt very complete.

We filled Grandma's arms with love.

We said, I love you.

We read a lot of books.

We kept our chins up, even when it seemed impossible.

I can't caption this.  My heart just over flows.

Emeline sang like everyone was listening.

We took baby on his first hike.

We took a lot of pictures, because we had a lot of moments.

There's been a lot of talk about the excessive photos we take these days, social media and public sharing.  Snapping a photo of your lunch?  Please.  Endless photos of your kids walking to school?  Since when did the every day become worthy of a photo session?

What are we waiting for?  For everyone to line up against a backdrop in a stuffy dress when they're told?  If you're waiting for life's magic moments, you're missing them all.  They're happening right now, wherever you are, whomever you're with.  

Digging out a few of my favorites from this year, just reminded me how fabulous this year was.  It wasn't always easy, we didn't climb the highest mountain, jet off to exotic locales, or rescue an endangered species.  But we did appreciate each other and each day, and that's more than enough for me. 

This isn't my photo, but I think it's a beautiful, symbolic, moment in nature.

HE is here!

We're a family of five!  

Welcome baby William John Meek!

October 23, 2014

6:47am

7 lbs. 4 oz.

20.5 in.

Dad & Will shortly after birth

Mom & Will

Biggest sister is a pro this time around.

(OMG, we have three kids!)

Nothing like seeing your baby brother for the first time.  As much as Annabelle knew what to expect, Emeline was able to experience the new baby through entirely fresh eyes.  Amazing moment.

Our threesome.

Smitten

This set up never gets old (for mom)...

Baby Will - rare alone photo.

Will's birth was a wild ride, starting with an unassuming stroll through Cantigny while Grandma Meek was visiting.  I had experienced false labor with Emeline, so any signs that started that day, I tried to ignore.  But of course, as all our little Meeklet's arrivals, by the middle of the night, it was clear there was a baby on the way.  We made it to the hospital by 5:30am after a long night of laboring naturally.  Despite arriving at the hospital at 8cm, and progressing to 10cm in minutes, hopes and plans of a natural labor were dashed when baby was discovered breech.  (I entirely believe I could have had this baby breech, just as God had intended, but that's another blog post...and probably some therapy, so I'll keep this simple.)  It's all a blur once I was told I wouldn't be allowed to deliver as I had planned, but our baby BOY Meek was removed via cesarean at 6:47am.

He didn't have a name right away.  We ALWAYS go into our gender surprise births with names ready, but we had struggled with the boy name.  In the last few weeks of pregnancy, I had decided to stop stressing , we had narrowed it down to two boy names, and we had our girl name.  If by some crazy chance, we actually had a boy, we'd figure it out.  (Should have know that theory would guarantee a boy.)

So, this wasn't to be Rosemary Jenny.  (This IS last baby, so I can officially spill all name plans ;)

After getting to a recovery room, we quickly tried out our two names and William John it was.  (I was still loopy from the cesarean ordeal, so luckily Dad was feeling pretty confident about the name.)

Grandma Meek brought the big sister's to the hospital to visit as soon as possible.   We also had visits from Grandpa Meek, our lovely neighbors, Paul & Cecilia, our dear friend Mary, with Molly & Maggie, Aunt Shannon & Uncle Scott and Aunt Colleen, Miss Janine, and Carolyn, Lucy & Norah

And because I know everyone wants to know, but doesn't want to ask, Will is galactosemic, just like Annie.  

We've had "the" galactosemia call three times now.  These three calls have proven to me just how much we adapt, and how fear is almost always just the unknown.

In 2009 we got the call for Annie, introducing us to the world of galactosemia.  We scribbled down g-a-l-a-c-t-o-s-e-m-i-a, immediately googled and cried.  I spent the next year secretly crying more days than not, terrified of our daughter's future.

In 2012, we had a handle on galactosemia.  Our lives as parents, WAS galactosemia.  I was fully prepared (and assuming) our next baby would also be galactosemic.  When we received the call that Emeline was merely a carrier, I cried again.  I quickly mourned the fact that the sisters would not share this genetic rollercoaster, and moved on.  All that I worried about was soon washed away in the every day, and I immediately saw the girls definitely didn't see each other as galactosemic or not, but merely as sisters.

And here we are in 2014.  I hadn't really given much thought to whether a third baby would be galactosemic or not.  So when we got the call that Will was galactosemic, I felt bad, our genetics team was trying to break it to me so gently.  But they may as well have called to tell me he had two eyes and a nose, it was not an issue to me.

Third time parenting is awesome.  If only we had the confidence and knowledge the first time, when we only had one to care for.  But of course, we don't realize how easy one kid is...until we have a small heard ;)

Will has been loved on since the moment he arrived.  His sisters are smitten with him as are his parents.  He sleeps well, cuddles well, wiggles well and even seems to smile already in these first couple of weeks.  I'm trying to take in every little breath in my ear, and the feeling of his squirmy little body nestling into ours as we hold him.  I know all too well we will blink, and it will be hard to even imagine those first few weeks.  Making people....truly is a miracle.  

Annabelle June turns five!

Whew!  This was a tough one for mom!  What is it about five that seems so huge?  Probably the beginning of "real school"?  Leaving the toddler years well behind?  No matter how hard I scrutinize her little face, I can't bring back all the baby fat or her tiny little voice that was just learning language.  Now our "baby" is full of ideas, stories, hopes and dreams of her own.  I couldn't be happier with the baby, turned toddler, turned little girl that we've raised so far.  So rather than mourn how quickly time is passing, I'll roll around in our happy present.  

Annie spent her fifth birthday at Santa's Village, where she rode all the rides until they closed the doors for the day.  We took off after swim lessons, not telling her where she was going.

The following weekend we celebrated with friends and family, enjoying a perfect summer day.

Happy Birthday big sister!