Catching Up: Asher

This is, so far, my easiest post! After all, I only have to recall the last 14 months worth of details and talk about the sweetest little guy on the planet. The hardest part is going to be writing anything with any amount of length since there isn't a whole lot to say about Asher yet... but I suppose you don't need a novel from me every time! ;-)

I always wanted a large family. My mom was the youngest of 6 kids, her sister had 6 kids, and I think my great-grandma was one of 9 kids or something like that. It all adds up to me having 19 first cousins with about 16 significant others and 24 children of their own. That means that inviting everyone to a birthday party can lead to 50 guests before I even start to include my friends. I think what I loved most about a large family was seeing the joy in my grandma's face, and even in my aunt's, when all of her children were together at the same time. I just wanted that for myself. So, before Jesse came into the picture, I imagined a future with 7 children of my own. He wasn't keen on that idea, though. I'm sure it's a rare person these days that might purposely want that many kids, so I'm not surprised. We compromised on 3 children, which makes complete sense to me as any additional kids would mean a completely different kind of car and exponentially more expensive outings.

However, with each child we had, Jesse tried to go back on his original plan and settle with only that many kids. It took us 13 months to get pregnant with Josiah. And, when he was born, neither of us was ready to have a 2nd child any time soon. I think that I couldn't imagine sharing my love with another baby, while Jesse was less sure he wanted to repeat the sleepless nights and endless care of a newborn. It took more than a year and half for Jesse to consider a 2nd child, and then another 8 months for me to get pregnant. Then, when Micah was born, Jesse was certain he was through having any more kids. I wasn't so sure I could get him to get back on page with our agreement, but he eventually decided that he was open to the possibility. And within a few weeks, I found out I was pregnant with Asher.

I couldn't be happier with a third child. I just felt for the past 7 years that that's what our family was supposed to look like. I don't think I would've ever felt content if it had ended after Micah. So, everything about my last pregnancy was more meaningful, as I soaked it up knowing it was my last. Don't get me wrong. I threw up most everyday of all 3 pregnancies. Add in all of the terrible, not-so-glamorous things that people never tell you about pregnancy... which I won't either. But, knowing I wouldn't be pregnant again made everything worth it.

When I found out Baby #3 was another boy, I heard all sorts of comments from people wishing us their condolences. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" "Another boy! Poor you!" I was thrilled to be having another boy, though, and the name Asher, meaning fortunate, happy, or blessed, couldn't be more appropriate for our third boy. Not only is it fitting because I am more than blessed to be a mom of all boys, but because Asher is such a happy kids.

Asher was born weighing the same exact amount as Josiah, and barely measuring the longest of all three boys. His hair had a reddish tint, but has turned blonder over time. At first, Asher looked most like Josiah, but over time has come into his own look, different from either of his older brothers. He seems to be slightly taller, but skinnier than Josiah at the same ages, and, of course, Micah is still the shortest and fattest stockiest. It all makes me wonder how they'll compare when they stand side-by-side during their teenage years, although I'm certain they will all be heads and shoulders above me!

From the time Asher was born, Josiah had an instant connection with him. I have a video of Josiah just singing to Asher as he held him in his lap during the first hours after his birth. It is the most precious thing I've ever seen! I'm sure their relationship has something to do with Josiah's age at the time Asher was born, being more aware and understanding of gaining a sibling, as well as being able to help more. In addition, Micah's stinky toddler attitude gets in the way when Asher starts messing with his toys. Micah is quick to tell me that Asher is annoying him, whereas Josiah is quicker to play alongside his little brother. But the way that they interact with each other makes my heart so happy!

Just like his older brothers, everyone remarks on Asher being the happiest baby theyve ever seen. Everyone falls in love with Asher everywhere we go. 

As he gets older, I'm seeing more of his personality emerging. He's so active and playful and into EVERYTHING. Nothing is safe in our house from his grabby hands. I have to make sure the baby gate is always up at the bottom of the stairs, or Asher will end up on the 2nd floor before we realize he's gone. All doors have to be shut immediately behind you or he'll race to get into the bathroom or outside. I have a tray table that sits next to the couch, often holding my phone, drink, computer, or other immediate needs, but Asher will come up and shake the table with earthquake force. And, when he wants to get something, he is relentless about it. Right now, his favorite things are playing with race cars as I say, "Vroom, vroom. Beep, beep!", roaring with his toy lion, playing with his blocks and balls, and sitting in any box he can find. I see in him a curiosity about things around him, and I love watching him explore his world. Recently, I noticed that he started taking Mega Bloks and stacking them on top of each other, pulling them apart, and then putting them back together. He also has a nesting ball, where each half of the ball connects to the other and grows bigger and bigger, and I watched as he tried with all his might to connect two sides of the ball. He brought it to me all distraught, and, without words, asked me to fix it. I put together the pieces and handed it back, thanked with a giant smile. But when he couldn't immediately disassemble it again, he became frustrated once more. I love seeing his little mind trying to figure it out, but I don't think I want to take that ball apart and put it back together all day ;-) As sweet as he is now, I'm sure that just about the time that Micah outgrows his terrible toddler years, Asher will enter. And then... who knows what will come next?!

I love seeing him grow and learn, and I can't help but imagine what he will become. I always joked that if Josiah was my emotional child and Micah was my rough-and-tumble one, I needed Asher to be my intellectual one. I don't see that yet in the sense that he still doesn't say much for a 14 month old, but his mechanical mind may be an indication of his potential abilities. Either way, I am excited to see how God uses him to teach me as a mother, personally, and how he further will complete our family.

Catching Up: Micah

My last post was emotionally exhausting and took place in the middle of the night. This makes for a very tired lady who might not be up to blogging again so soon. But my next planned post was supposed to be about my middle little guy, and I refuse to be "one of those moms" who neglects her poor middle child!

I only have faint memories of Micah's birth and infant months. Thank God I wrote things down and posted on Facebook during these months because the fatigue that comes with parenting a rambunctious toddler and nurturing a newborn baby puts a fog over my normally vivid recollections. Having said that, my love for this crazy kid is no less than my other two, and I'm sure that there will be ways that I make up for the memory loss at a later time.

Many people may not know that before he was Micah James, we had decided on the name Judah Michael for our second son. It was in the waiting room at the OB-GYN's office after our ultrasound where Jesse made it be known that he didn't feel the same assurance in the name Judah that he had previously felt with Josiah. So, we went back to our short list and changed the name, announcing it to our shocked friends and family members when we had our gender reveal party.

Initially, I wasn't thrilled to be having a second boy. I had dreams of tutus and bows and other girly things, and the uncertainty that I would ever have a third kid made the news of a 2nd boy a bit disappointing. But, God snapped me into reality really quickly, forever changing my attitude towards being a mom of all boys. This deserves a post all on its own, but the shortened version is that I quickly realized that if Josiah was hand-chosen, perfectly created by God just for us, why would Micah be any less?

When Micah arrived, he surprised me by being a pound and half smaller than his older brother was at birth. He also came out with hair, unlike Josiah who was bald for the longest time, AND his hair was dark, which I never expected. I remember just staring at him because I couldn't believe how opposite he was from Josiah.

And, they've been opposites everyday since.

I remember telling people that God gave me Micah because I couldn't have handled 2 Josiah's. I've since learned that neither boy is necessarily more difficult than the other. Instead, Micah just came at a time when Josiah was a toddler, which was a difficult age. Everyone thought Micah was just the sweetest little guy. The workers in the nursery used to light up whenever we arrived at church and fight over who got to snuggle with him first. And despite starting off small, Micah grew and grew into this chunky little monkey. This is one of my all-time favorite photos of Micah with his Michelin Man body. Seriously, who has rolls in their forearms?! The more Micah grows, the more he favors my side of the family rather than Jesse's, especially my brother David. In his medical stats, he comes up shorter and fatter than his brothers at the same ages, leading me to believe that he will likely always have a stockier build.

When I found out I was pregnant with Asher, Micah was just shy of 2 years old. I made the announcement to my MOPS group while sharing a bit of my testimony, and when I introduced Micah, I distinctly remember telling everyone that there wasn't much to say about him because he was just so perfect and sweet! I'm glad that these select memories still exist because they give me hope now, because...

   

 ...oh, how quickly things change! Did you know that there's something terrible that happens to every kid between the ages of 18 months and 4 years old? You may have heard of the "terrible 2's", but the truth is that it begins several months earlier. And the 3's are even worse, where these toddlers have recently been coined as "threenagers", derivative of the rebellion and attitude that swells up within these little monsters, only to return again in roughly 10-12 more years.

I expected this, although a part of me hoped my gentle, quiet baby would be some sort of toddler phenomenon.  What I did not expect is the way Micah's terrible 2's would manifest themselves so differently than Josiah's- just one more example of how different they are. Whereas, Josiah was my emotional and very dramatic child, melting down at the drop of a hat, Micah became defiant and rude. A parent would pass us in the hallway at Josiah's school and greet Micah, and he, in turn, would yell out, "You no say hi to me!" Whose kid is this?!

I'm still counting down the days until he turns 4, praying that it magically turns him back into the sweet kid he once was. And I see glimmers of his tender heart returning. It makes me wonder how his personality will develop as he matures past these painful years. Will the gentle, observant child return, or will he remain the strong-willed child, but, hopefully, with a little more tact? In his sweet moments, though, he's become a little more of a momma's boy, asking me if he can stay with me forever, or snuggling with me on the couch or in my bed saying, "I just want to be with you!".

This is a recent photo taken after he came downstairs way past bedtime, just asking to spend time with me. As soon as he sat down next to me, he was fast asleep. But, had I said no, I probably would've spent the next hour fighting him to stay in his room. I try to find a balance between exercising control and listening to my child's heart. I want him to know that I'm here for him. And, when it all boils down, I've already seen how quickly these years pass. It won't be too long before I'm begging him to stay with me a little longer. So, I'll treasure the moments I have... within reason ;-)

So, aside from his stinky "threenage" attitude, which challenges me immensely, there's so much more to my middle little that I want people to know! It's easy to disregard him when his older brother is so loving and his little brother is so cute and happy. His speech impediment makes him difficult to understand. His attitude makes him difficult to empathize with. But, he is no less my divinely-created child, as I stated before. I think that God uses him to simply teach me in a different way. It's easy to love the lovable, but Micah forces me to set aside my frustration and approach him with a tender heart. I never want him to feel less favored than his brothers, which can happen purely because of his birth-order. The differences between him and his brothers only further separates him, and it makes me work harder to embrace those unique qualities rather than brush him aside.

While some of this may stem from his age, what I see in Micah is our rough & tumble, all-boy boy. He runs everywhere and is loud and roars like a dinosaur fairly often. He wants to wrestle and fight, mimicking superheros, Ninja Turtles, Power Rangers, and wild animals. I look at Josiah and his tender heart and interests, and I imagine his future in theater, music, or non-contact sports like track or baseball. But, when I consider Micah's personality and favorite activities, I imagine that he will be a wrestler or football player- something with strength and power- and I can't wait to stand sidelines at his sporting event and cheer him on!

And, I see him transitioning from a toddler to a true preschooler. His baby fat is disappearing- long gone are the days of those chubby thighs and arm rolls. He's taller and and leaner, despite still being on the stocky-side.

He is asking me more questions, but then goes beyond the "why", further conversing with me when I give him a response. I catch a wittiness in him that I've never seen in Josiah, because, truth be told, so much still goes over Josiah's head! I see Micah observing the world, just as he always did in infancy, but he's beginning to inquire more about it and face it head-on. I'm so excited to see him enter preschool next month because I'm eagerly anticipating all he will learn and how it will shape him into the little boy he is becoming. And while I can't help but wish away these trying toddler years, I try to treasure the moments I see his kindness emerge. I try to celebrate his accomplishments, which only makes me smile bigger when he responds, "Thank you, mommy!" And I'm trying to embrace the unique ways that God made him just for me.

Life & Death

This isn't something I intended to write about, but I haven't been very good about posting regularly. So, maybe I need to just write it out when it's heavy on my heart instead of waiting for a moment when I can blog about a pre-planned topic.

Death.

I'm fortunate enough to say that I can only name a handful of people I've known personally who have passed away. And with almost all of them, while I don't want to diminish the impact of their lives here on earth, the grief I've experienced is pretty mild, knowing that they either lived a long life or that I was separated from them for quite some time before they died. But, there's one particular person whose life and death touch me in a way that I find difficult to describe.

He was a little black boy I knew in elementary school. The only reasons why this is of any significance are:
1) Race wasn't a big deal growing up in Texas, but having lived in Oregon for 15 years, I am not around very many black people, and the stark difference in our skin colors is only one example of the differences between us.
2) He always said I looked like Ricki Lake. Therefore, he was my Montel Williams.

We probably didn't have too much in common besides a faith in God, being from the same tiny town in Texas, and having many classes together during our middle school years. And, in the classes where we sat alphabetically, he usually ended up right in front of me. I, to this day, don't remember what drew us together or how it played out, but I remember very distinctly considering him one of my best friends, especially during a time when my long-term BFF's had very different class schedules from me. Apart from some after-school phone calls, we never hung out outside of class. In fact, all that stands out in my mind roughly 18 years later was that he was just someone I knew I could count on as a friend in most of my classes.

Then, just after my freshman year, I moved cross-country to Oregon. I never saw him again after that. In the following 13 years, we had one surprise phone call shortly after I moved here. After that, we remained typical Facebook friends, just keeping up with each other's pictures or posts, although never really having much of a relationship, with the exception of one brief, but personal email where I was able to tell him how much I appreciated his friendship so many years ago. Four months after that email, he died. And, it hit me like a ton of bricks, in a way I've never experienced before.

Despite not having seen him in 13 years and having very little relationship with him, I bawled over his death for several days. But, even more surprising to me is that I have had other moments since where I've begun to think about him and the grief flooded over me all over again. In fact, tonight, a full year and half since his passing, I randomly thought of him while laying in bed. I can't even tell you now what brought him to my mind, but tears began to pour down my face once again as I thought of him. I can't tell you with any certainty why he made such an impact on me. I know the world is missing a great guy, but I'm sure there's more to it than that. I think that him being so close to my age made me empathize with it in a way that's difficult to explain. Something to the effect of "people my age shouldn't be dying" mixed with an overwhelming mother's heart that aches for his young children to face the loss of their daddy and for his wife to lose her love so young. And, while I thoroughly believe grief has a healthy place in our emotions, I was trying to collect myself, as to not wake my husband and have to explain why I was randomly bawling at 1:00 am. Wiping away the never-ending tears, I couldn't help but think that there must be some greater purpose to remembering him. In other words, there must be some way I can channel the sadness into something more meaningful than a tear-soaked pillow. So, I began to think, is there something I could do to benefit cancer patients? Crochet hats for chemo patients? Donate blood for people who need transfusions? Maybe whenever I am reminded of my friend, I can use it as a prompt to pray for his family, especially his wife and kids? Maybe it is also a prompt for me to take a little extra time and hold my family close?

The writer in me wishes I had something profound to end this post. A message of encouragement for you to love your loved ones more loudly and hold them more tightly... A call to arms to cure the world of cancer... A thought-provoking statement on the power of life...

But, the real life woman sitting on the couch in my underwear at almost 3am has no definitive conclusion to this at all. I can't tell you just yet how I am going to channel my tears into something that saves the world. I just knew I couldn't sleep without getting it off of my chest. So, after some time of quiet and sleep, I think I'm going to spend some time seeking God and asking Him how he might want to speak to me during these moments of remembering my friend.