Ends and Beginnings

Today, Sadie graduated from Pre-K, ending her four years at First Baptist Weekday Preschool, just a few blocks up from where we live on Monument Avenue. The first day of pre-school, she was 18 months old and looked like this (top left).  Today, she looked like this (bottom left). The first one she was leaving her sheltered life at home. And today, she left her sheltered life at this neighborhood school.  I remember fretting as I left her that first day of preschool. Like every mother in the hall, I was tearing up, knowing exactly which screaming child was indeed mine, calling for me. Wondering if she was too young for school, wondering if she needed me. She wasn't too young. She needed them, and all that the school provided, not more time with me.

Today, she hugged her teachers and her friends, and proudly told her teachers that she was excited to go to Collegiate next year, and that one day she was going to be a doctor when she grew up. Some of the girls said that they were going to be mothers. I asked Sadie afterwards what she thought about being a mother one day "Yes, all of the girls will be mothers and all of the boys will be fathers. The question was what else I was going to be Mom."  So, I have indeed taught her something in all of this. That it was ok to do more than one thing. Even though we haven't always been balanced. Even though I still often wonder what I am going to be when I grow up, I have taught my child that she can be anything too.

Four years ago, and a thousand days between then and now, I find myself so proud of this little person. Just last week she begged to join the swim team, and was not at all daunted with her knowledge that she had not yet swam across the whole pool. And then last weekend, she learned to balance in and paddle a canoe and to ride her bike without training wheels. These days, she is not fearful of new challenges. She greets them with a wonderful mix of 10% confidence and 90% optimism. She isn't yet bratty or someone that compares herself to her peers. But she has learned how wonderful it feels to be proud of yourself. We saw it this summer when she ran the 1 mile race for the Monument Avenue 10k, and I felt like I bottled that image while I ran beside her and she rode her bike for a block without me holding on to the back of the seat. That priceless look of Look at me, Mom!!  I didn't catch it on the camera... for once I was looking at her instead of through the lens when something like this happened. I don't regret that, for the unfiltered view was tremendous.

 Mark and I fret about the 25 minute commute to her new school come late August, and how we will manage without a nanny for the first time ever. How we will get out to Collegiate for class at 7:50 in the morning and how Sadie will manage to stay out there until 6 pm at night, all without dropping from exhaustion.  But it is the plan. It is the reason I went part-time two years ago next month - to be more involved during these upcoming elementary school years. I am excited to be the one to get her from school (hopefully closer to 3 pm than our back-up for extended day/after care that allows for 6 pm).

And so, this end... it is also a beginning. And for a few months, it will be a time of relaxation and fun. As she told me today "I can't wait to stay in my pajamas all day tomorrow. Well, until swim team time that is!"

Why I am Glad I Married Mr. Big

"I'm someone who is looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient,consuming, can't-live-without-each-other love. And I don't think that love is here in this expensive suite in this lovely hotel in Paris."- Carrie Bradshaw, said to The Russian An American Girl in Paris: Part Deux (2004)

Mark and I were out to dinner last Friday night with a couple, the wife in which Mark and I have been friends with for just as long as we have known each other. Note, it took me about 10 minutes to do this calculation on my finger and one check with a friend who was pregnant when I met Mark to verify how old her daughter is now, but I am now sure when I type this that Mark and I met and went out on our first date just over 15 years ago. Anyway, the wife was reminiscing as we were finishing our second bottle of wine and saying that she always knew that Mark and I would end up married because we were so deeply connected. I laughed... as our friends find different ways to deal with the fact that Mark and I dated, broke up, dated, broke up, dated, then got engaged and then got married. There's no shame in admitting that there may have been some doubt that our connection would lead us to the altar. 

As I have blogged about before, I think we were a bit like the characters of Sex And The City in that we were a product of our lifestyle. We both worked all the time, in the same field, and when we weren't working, we were out at the same bars with wonderful groups of friends. None of our group had children yet, and few were married (those that were are largely divorced). Mark and I had some great travels, went to New York for work and the Open and other great dinners, wonderful dates with lots of passion and then very sad breakups.  Actually planning for the future and settling-down was just not the next thing coming.

Until then, it was.

And then this happily-ever-after girl stood up at the altar. And unlike the Sex And The City movie, my husband stood there with me. Then later he stood up in front of the whole reception and toasted me and with a completely straight face told a fib and announced that he was grateful that I had finally accepted his marriage proposal since he proposed years before and I had turned him down. The look on my mother's face!!! (She believed him!!).

But the look in my husband's eye... his wink, his smile. He told me I was his left wing, that I made him the person that he was. And he was everything that I had ever hoped for in my whole life. I indeed was marrying real love-ridiculous-time-consuming-can't-live-without-each-other-love.

It is nice to be taken back to that feeling. Real life can get in the way. The boulders that we have had to handle recently have been large. The days go quickly at work, short dinners full of five year old chitter chatter, and then family phone calls start coming in until bedtime. Stresses. Things that we expected would be short-lived and have gone on for more than a year. Things that might go on a lot longer.  And there is a world of unknowns. Mark's parents are both very ill. Last night I walked the dog after learning that my father drove to John's Hopkins yesterday and ended up having a hole in his retina quickly repaired. What happens when my family needs me? I thought to myself. Who is going to be strong for me?

But today I was back there, almost eight years ago, remembering what it was like to marry my Mr. Big.

Indeed, almost 8 years later, it is ridiculous and inconvenient. And talk about time-consuming. This life is exhausting.

But it is still a can't-live-without-each-other kind of love. And that's a good thing. When I squeeze my eyes shut, I can remember our faces at our wedding reception without our wrinkles, our tired eyes, our worried expressions, our faces of exasperation. And instead remember the optimism that we had then, and the commitment that we made. Life may have been easier with someone steadier than my Mr. Big. But I wouldn't have had as much fun along the way.

Changing

I have a friend whose infant daughter just got a DOC band. Until I had a niece who also required one two years ago, I thought those were "helmets" for babies who had flat spots on their heads.  Having now known a few mothers whose children required them, I flinch at my own ingnorance.

In any event though, now being four weeks and one day on the other side of Sadie's surgery (not that I am counting or anything), as I hear my friend go through the worry and grieving process knowing that her daughter will be wearing the band for months and months, full time, I have had lots of memories of when Sadie and her birthmark were very new... and overwhelming. Sadie's mark was much smaller than the DOC band, but she too was going to be wearing it "all the time" and it garnered lots of comments by observers. And we didn't know if it would last a year, less, or more, or what we would do to remove it. I certainly don't feel like we spent five long years worrying about it, but it was an underlying concern, to state it mildly.

I told my friend to make sure that she takes pictures of her daughter, for her benefit and for the benefit of her five year old daughter who needed her parents to model that this was not a tragedy.  I remembered that there were a few weeks when Sadie was a newborn when I didn't take any pictures, when the birthmark was growing every single day and I was terrified. My parents visited one time in that period and my mother took my father's digital camera and insisted that he take several pictures of Sadie. She had funny faces in each of them -- and just looking at them now makes me recall that she always had so much personality.  She then printed them out and gave them to me in a small photo brag book album.  "Take pictures of your beautiful daughter!" she admonished me. I did again, and again, and again!  In the very room where I am typing this, we have 27 80-page albums for Sadie's five year life. I am definitely not short on pictures of her life.

It is a different kind of challenge that I have faced this week, since Sadie's derma bond (layer of superglue that was applied on top of her suture in lieu of stitches) peeled off last Friday. Along with the derma bond, off came the thin red line of dried blood from the incision as well as the purple-ish hue that used to be her  surface birthmark. Kind of like when you first take a cast off your arm or leg and the underlying skin is pale and almost new looking? We were stunned, Sadie's birthmark is all but gone. And there is no "angry red incision" that we had been expecting to be dealing with for months or even a year.

And my, has the camera been snapping. I can't get enough pictures of it, to be candid. I can't stop looking at the pictures. I can't stop looking at both cheeks and seeing how similar they are now. It is stunning to see her face without that birthmark. Sure, from day to day you can see more or less of the scar or the surface birthmark. But most of the time, in natural sunlight, there is nothing there. For the first time in five years, one cheek looks like the other.

This makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time!  How silly am I?  I mean, I am completely neurotic here. But it is so weird to feel this way. And Mark and I take great lengths to try not to express this in front of Sadie... but she will catch us looking at her, eyes kind of squinty in deep concentration, wholly focused on her cheek. "Stop looking at my cheek" she will say.  She never said that, ever, in the five years that she had the birthmark... when every child and adult was looking at her cheek!  She never ever uttered stop, then.  Now she is older. And it is gone.

I am not sure what to make of all of this.

So I am thankful that the days pass, and with each new day we see so many changes happening right outside our doors. Every morning and every night after dinner we check the progress of the red bud tree we have in our backyard. The purple flowers on each branch were quick to pop out and had the most lovely hue, but now the little tiny heart shaped leaves are replacing the flowers. It is still stunning to watch, with our bright sunshine and recent rain, the tree changes before our very eyes. It has been a great study for all of us. We look forward to the next change, but are also taking the time to talk about the beauty in what is there right then. Living in the now.

Leave it to a five year old to teach a nearly 43 year old some important lessons.

Turning Five

Every birthday is a milestone... both for the child who was birthed, and the parents who did the birthing, so to speak (let's be honest... Mark didn't do much birthing himself, but I am not sure that things were actually easier from his viewing point than from mine).

I remember when I realized that we had made it through the first week of Sadie's life. Mark and I were both exhausted, and Lily and Daisy both looked shell-shocked as well.  Sadie was not a bad baby, she was not a crier, and everyone marveled at how much she slept and how easily she went down (at that time, awake). But still, it was SO MUCH WORK. All the laundry, all the schedules, eating and diaper changing. All the bottles to wash, hands to wash, things to wipe down and sterilize. We were exhausted. Then Mark traveled to Houston for work a few times, for 10 days at a stretch, and we got a family of baby birds stuck in the chimney in our kitchen. And I really did wonder if we were going to survive ourselves (let alone the fate of birds). I remember when Sadie turned a month, and I was getting more used to it all. I wouldn't say I was enjoying the experience then. I remember asking one of my best friends "Why didn't you tell me how hard this was?" and she said "No one warns other people... if they did, then no one would ever have a first child."

But one week and one month... turned into one year. And then two, three, four, and now five. The first night home with Sadie lasted an eternity (she did not sleep for but an hour that night). And the last two years of her life have flown by in what seems like an hour.

Physical exhaustion is replaced by mental worrying about this, that or the other thing. No more or less than any of you worry about your children, your aging parents, your wayward friends.

As taxing as parenting is as a job, it produces reward in tenfold. As much as I fret about some things, I couldn't be more confident in so many others. My daughter is full of spirit and sass and drama, and I couldn't be prouder. She has character and determination and one day she will get in loads of trouble, just like I did.  My greatest wish is that she have at least one daughter so she can experience, first hand, the gift that her being gave to me.  To know that no matter how difficult I probably was as a teenager myself, and how many times I made the wrong choices as a young adult, that I still got the chance to walk this life with her.

And until she has that daughter one day, I will keep on enjoying these days. The sense of both things changing and staying the same. The knowledge that there is a greater Being in charge of our lives and He is putting me in this role as Mother-Wife-Worker-Attorney-Forty-two-Year-Old-Athlete-Lover-of-Fun-But-Not-of-Housework so I will learn something and along the way, teach something to someone else. I love learning from Sadie and watching her grow and change. And I love the kiss that I get from the very lips that were connected to that face that I saw and kissed for the first time five years ago today.

We have quite a journey left together my child. May you always know how much fun it is to go on it with you

Reflections on... reflections

I paused this morning when I realized that we were actually one week following Sadie's surgery. Several times over the last week, I have thought "I should really blog about it all."  I mean, so many of you rode the waves with us as we were wondering whether or not to operate, and so many of you prayed during the surgery. Surely you deserve a hindsight report, right?

I was going to blog about how it felt to watch Sadie come out of anesthesia (simply put, scary and awful). I was going to write about how grateful we were to have her home with us that afternoon. But truthfully, we are always grateful for her. And honestly, she had some rotten moments in the afternoon, barking commands from her position on the couch after six hours of television. I was grateful, but I was also really tired at the end of the day.

So all week, as we watched the bruising turn different colors (pretty yellow most recently), and we watched the swelling come down, I thought I would get on here and write about the emotions that we were all going through.

But I kept realizing... the emotions were not really about the surgery.  It was just living again. Winter to spring. Four years old to five years old. Ready for kindergarten, forms to fill out, taxes to do.

Thursday, Sadie was still swollen but determined to spend the whole day in the 80 degree sunshine and was loving life. On Friday, she went back to school with no issues at all. Saturday, we went to Urbanna for the day and she ran down the street to the playground without any hesitation. Sunday was similarly normal.

Now we prepare for her fifth birthday this week. And while it snowed yesterday and is chilly today, we are ready to be in the 70s later this week. Both of us have taken to wearing short sleeves around the house, no matter what the temperature is outside. We have shunned our winter clothes!  We are ready for summertime, baby!

I need more ... hindsight ... to give the surgery report in hindsight.  It is a liberating feeling not to be focusing on the birthmark in so many ways. Sure she is swollen, and sure there is still a bump, maybe there always will be? Certainly a scar, as well. But some chapter closed for us, sometime in the last week, and another one began. Not to mean that I am not looking back at all... but just to mean that I am not right now. Someone asked "did they get it all?" the other day, and my honest answer is "we don't know."  It wasn't as easy as taking out a tumor that had clearly identifiable edges. But it wasn't as hard as, let's say, fighting cancer in a child.  Surgery took a lot longer than we had expected. And recovery took a lot shorter. Kids are amazing. Parents lag behind, tear up a lot, struggle and cry and ask for security and guidance and certainty.  I have decided to try to take a lesson from my kid, and not from my own inclinations.

We are grateful of where we are. And we are moving forward. Make sense?

Friendships

I was creating Sadie's annual Shutterfly photo book since her birthday is one short month from today, and I came across these wonderful pictures that Sadie's best friend Bella's wonderful nanny Sarah had taken on her camera over the past year.

The one with the butterfly on Bella's hand captures the innocence and wonder that these girls experience every day. Summer was full of swimming and camps, bike rides and fun music to dance too, smoothies for lunch and more pool time in the afternoon. What a wonderful life! And of course a butterfly lands on your hand.... Your lives are indeed wonderful!

But when I saw this next picture, from the Little family wrapped in a frame and presented on Christmas Eve, I gasped with laughter. This picture is who these girls just ARE!  Fashionistas. Full of Sass. Hams for the camera. Dancing queens. They are 5 going on 22. One day I may regret relishing in this... but they are no toddlers in tieras as or anything. It is just who they are. So confident. One day the world will knock their confidence down a peg or more. But until then, I am just tickled with who they both are.

Sadie asked me the other day if I was fancier when I was younger. I was standing there in my Lululemon workout pants (which I consider to be fancy, as well as fashionable, for a pretty penny!) which I had changed into after coming home from work.  I told her I would have to show her some pictures of when I was a little girl and she could decide herself if her mother was fancier now as a grown up or when I was 5 too. Can you show them to me now, she begged. Aren't they just on your phone?

Oh the life you lead, little one. Thinking that if there is a picture out there, it must be digital and accessible by an iPhone. Makes me giggle. And as always, grateful.

And Onto February

One thing I consciously try to do is to be present in the moment. It is a daily struggle for me and has been for as long as I can remember. But it is mostly a struggle in the winter time. As much as we absolutely adore the holidays (which run from Halloween until New Year's Eve), I get the winter blahs come the morning of January 1. The more fun the Christmas season is, I feel like the harder I crash. It is kind of like the day after Sadie was born when I was in the hospital and the doctor came in to ask me "What is your pain level today, from a 1 to a 10, and 10 being the worst?"  "A NEGATIVE TWENTY" I assured him, as I held my perfect new baby girl in my arms, and smiled ear to ear, in a room full of flowers and well wishing guests all around. "Let me just warn you," he told me "You are going to crash really hard."  And he was right.

I have the same problems with January every year. I generally don't like cold weather, but I do love a good walk in the snow. We have had none of that in Richmond, notwithstanding Sadie praying for it most evenings. It hasn't necessarily been an early spring either... just kind of moderately chilly. Not cold enough for gloves, but too cold for bare hands. It is just kind of... .January-like.

But January is over now, and we have quite an exciting February lined up. First, Valentine's Day -- and if there is a reason for decorations, we make them!  Then we hear back from the private schools we have applied for kindergarten on February 18th, and thereafter will know the school where Sadie will hopefully be spending the next 13 years of her life. And then on the 28th, we have surgery on Sadie's birthmark.

My sweet little girl has done a complete reversal on her opinions about her surgery and says that she is looking forward to it. We don't sense any anxiety from her (though surely as the date approaches, there will be normal fear and apprehension from her, and from us). She knows that she will get to spend a few days laying on our couch and watching as much television as she wants while eating ice cream for every meal if she so chooses (not something that the doctor has said will be necessary, but her only experience with surgeries is friends who have gotten their tonsils out so why shouldn't we adopt their course of recovery).  She knows that she will have special visitors in the hospital and no doubt to the house after she comes home if she feels like it. And she knows that everyone is excited for her. When we told our pediatrician on Monday that she was having the surgery, in front of Sadie, Dr. Nelson's response was a huge grin, a high five to Sadie and "Terrific!" exclaimed. Every single person Sadie encounters projects confidence and positivity on this, not fear or uncertainty. It has really been incredible to watch Sadie's turn-about.

And in the midst of all of this, Sadie has two very loose bottom front teeth. I discovered these after a trip across the country a few weeks ago, having come home to see that her bottom teeth were really no longer evenly spaced. I reached out and wiggled it... and I am not sure if Sadie or I was more stunned, and each of us felt like we might throw up!  It took some getting used to, but it has been exciting to watch the new tooth peak through and both of the old ones get looser and looser.  I look at her most nights and am struck that my newborn will be five years old in just over a month. 

So we are looking forward. We are trying to enjoy the days between this and that by staying healthy (or in each of our situations, getting healthy as Mark and Sadie are on antibiotics for sinus infections and I am not far behind with a bad cold and next to no voice). With hopefully a few sweet treats, a visit from the tooth fairy, and some positive news on the school front, the end of the month will be here before we know it. And thereafter--- SPRING will bring with it a five year birthday. Life is indeed, blessed.

It's All About The Ties That Bind

My Dad (Sadie's Papa) had a funny ritual he performed whenever he traveled and stayed in hotels. We didn't take a lot of hotel-based vacations when I was little, so I didn't witness his ritual until I traveled with him to visit colleges when I was a rising senior in high school. It was either on those trips, or similar trips to visit law schools, that I saw this in action and he explained his practice to me, and told me he did this and every trip. Shortly after he would check into a hotel room and hang his clothes up and wash his face and hands, he would find a copy of the yellow pages (always in the bedside stand or closet top shelf) and he would turn to the listing of optometrists in private practice, and he would look to see if he recognized any of the names of the practitioners from his years at Pennsylvania College of Optometry and his attendance at annual continuing education seminars. Interestingly, more than once he would find the name of someone he knew or recognized.

Peculiarly, now that I think about it, is the fact that I don't ever recall him calling the person to touch base or set up a drink or dinner date. This is probably a combination of the myopic mindset I had as a young adult (surely the trip was all about me) or the fact that my father was so committed to his children that truly, the trip WAS all about me, and there was no time to spare when we needed to tour the campus, eat each meal in the cafeteria, sit in several classes, etc. But I do remember my father smiling when he would see a fellow optometrist whose name he knew and close the phone book with a pleasant memory having crossed his mind.

I think my father had a sense of Facebook before its time.  Just thinking about a friend was rewarding.

He has always valued the many relationships he made in life. He was never one to "call in a favor" so to speak, or measure anyone's worth based on who they knew as a way to move up the ladder. But he remembers (and remains thankful for) the friendships that he has had in his life and recalls the most wonderful memories about his friends. He reads the obituary section of his local paper, plus the Washington Post for our Mt. Vernon community deaths, plus the Pittsburgh paper to check on passings of his childhood friends and families. While those passings seem more and more common now and I know this makes my father sad, when he calls us to share the sad news he will often tell a handful of stories about the person and the events from long ago or the last time he saw the person. I can feel the smiles through the phone lines, and I have to think that this makes those that have passed feel some sort of tickle on their way to heaven.

Sometimes I get in a mood (shocker, I know) and I yearn for the "good ole days" when I spent hours and hours with good friends. Those times were not necessarily the most productive times  as I can remember spending entire Saturdays watching Real World marathons on TV during my first few years in Richmond, and there was never a Sunday night that we didn't gather to watch Sex And The City together.  Late nights in bars and dinners out.  But those times didn't have the worries and stresses that we have now... so they seem so carefree in hindsight.

But just since the new year, I have had so many tangible reminders that the friendships in my life today are deep, trustworthy, and meaningful.  A visit from my friend Kathi last weekend and the simple act of walking our girls to the park and standing in the sunshine for a few hours.  A call from my friend Newnie the other night.  Stolen moments right when I come home with Sadie's nanny Tyler who, though half my age, never fails to make me feel young and hip and cool, takes wacko videos of my avid performer, and makes me choke with gratitude when I hear Sadie call to her in laughter as she leaves "Thanks for the GREAT day Tyler!" Our wonderful dog walker who leaves notes detailing Daisy's bravery upon encountering a rat on their walk, written like the very best adventure story so that Sadie becomes even more effusive with rewards and praise of our ten year old (blissfully unaware) companion. My friend Bethany who invites me for Belle Island runs during lunch that never fail to re-motivate me for health and fitness.  Gone are the days when I would run the 8 minute mile and now Bethany (with two Ironmans under her belt) has to slow down for me... but it those runs are priceless.

And... 30 Facebook friends who immediately liked my status detailing that Mark and I had taken the step to have Sadie's birthmark removed, ending a long phase of doubting and indecision. These Facebook friends, some of whom I see in real life, some of whom I haven't seen since I was 18 years old, and some of whom I have actually never met in person... were able to, with just one simple click, make me feel like I was walking into a room of friends with outstretched arms.   I have a relatively close friend who firmly believes that she has no time for Facebook. I respect her viewpoint, though I disagree.  There is nothing like a birthday on Facebook for you to feel loved. Now I can say, there is nothing like having your five year old's cheek restructured either. I will depend on the strength of friends getting me through that experience.

In some ways, my 43rd year (is that what this is?) is one where I have gotten more short tempered.  I am quick to criticize those who have inflicted pain onto our family of three.  I am more judgemental of those at work who take too long on tasks and who I feel waste my time. I don't bite my tongue as I probably did before. Now life is too short for wasted time.

But also this year, I feel more blessed by friendships than I ever have before. Near and far, close and sporadic. I love you all.

Update on Answering Prayers

From the moment Sadie appeared on a positive pregnancy test, I knew that she was an answer to prayers. And yet, she arrived months after I had actually stopped praying and trying for a baby. It isn't that I had 'given up' really. But something in me had just sealed off the possibility. Then one night in June, Mark and I were at the Christening for a good friend's second child and when we were walking back through a golf course to where our car was parked, Mark was very contemplative about it all. So we stood there and had this matter-a-fact discussion where he articulated that he wasn't ready to give up hope entirely. I felt like I had been socked in the stomach (you readers can admit it... you were thinking that the walk back was going to lead to some hanky panky in a sand dune or something... :) ). I told him "I can't pray anymore Mark - it just wasn't working." But somehow in this conversation (I admit I had a few glasses of wine at this Christening reception), I agreed to being open to a baby. And two weeks later, with no planning or intervention, Sadie was conceived.

I think there are times when the best thing is to pray for a specific outcome. Sometimes, it does work! For example, my friend Janet's son prayed for a trip to Disneyworld and the very next day, he won a trip to Disneyworld for their family of 4!  The night after my secretary called me and told me that I just needed to pray to God for a new nanny and he would answer me, we got an email from a friend who told us about Tyler who is our current nanny. She is the human embodiment of an answer to our prayers. And so, my inclination is to pray for the solution that I want. Except... what to do when you don't know what you want?

I have learned recently that those are times when the best thing is to pray is that your heart  open.

And this is the prayer that I believe has finally been answered with Sadie's birthmark.

Here is my girl just a few hours old. You can barely see it now but the nurse who held her first and handed her to me saw it right away, a little red dot and a halo around it on her left cheek "This is probably a hemangioma, which is a strawberry birthmark" she told us.

In the picture with the white sweater on the left is Sadie when she was just about six weeks old - it was one of her first real smiles and I was diligent about catching it on camera. The birthmark that was just a spot at birth had grown to be heart shaped. The pediatrician told us to watch and wait it out as it would disappear in a few years. But Mark was traveling to Houston a lot during my maternity leave and I just dove into an obsession about this thing.  I would spend hours and hours searching the Internet for more information, and got very scared.  Some hemangiomas can grow to be very large and very disfiguring and I wanted an answer on Sadie's right then.

Our pediatrician agreed to refer us to a pediatric dermatologist in Richmond and I called her that moment, when she was six weeks old, and was told that she was booked out for a month. Time was critical I told her, the hemangioma was growing every week.

They squeezed me in when she was eight weeks old and Sadie had her first laser treatment on her birthmark. I will never forget when the dermatologist said "I wish we had seen her earlier because we could have lasered it before it really grew."  My mother guilt for not pushing harder!  Sadie tolerated three laser treatments very well.  The surface birthmark stopped growing and started the very slow process of "involution" which basically means fading and shrinking. They key word for us, though, was slow.

And then there is the picture in the Hawaiian outfit on the right (sent from Hawaii and Aunt Carolyn) - she was six months old. The bump underneath (called a subcutaneous hemangioma) was evident  and while an ultrasound revealed it was not pressing her eye orbit, there was nothing more that we could do other than find a surgeon who would operate on it. There are some of those surgeons in New York who would do this, though it was a purely cosmetic surgery.  Mark and I thought about it, prayed about it, but just couldn't accept the multitude of risks that such a surgery presented. So we decided to wait and watch it.

Every few weeks, then months, and then barely once a year it seems... I would spend several hours diving into more Internet research. I would revisit our decision to wait and wonder if we shouldn't be more aggressive.  We saw our dermatologist every six months who would photograph it and tell us how it had changed, and tell us that eventually it will be the right time to do surgery. And when Sadie was about two and a half, an experimental treatment drug evolved called Propranolol, which was a beta blocker. Babies who were part of the first trials were admitted to ICU to administer the drug and monitor its affect on blood pressure.  But Sadie was too old for it -- the drug only helps to stop a growing hemangioma from... growing. Sadie's had already stopped growing and the beta blocker would have no effect on shrinking her surface or subcutaneous birthmark. I felt like we had missed a critical boat.

But our lovely girl was continuing to grow and her personality was not fearful, or embarrassed, or self critical. The more chocolate in a picture, the better! And the gift of a best friend, with an identical birthmark and similarly not-shy personality, sealed the deal. These were not unhappy days. They were not stress filled or days of second guessing. These were days of joy.

How long could we be guaranteed to live in our bubble, though, I sometimes wondered. Every medical professional that we would see from about the age of three on, from regular pediatricians to ENTs to surgeons to dermatologists, all agreed that the birthmark should be removed before kindergarten starts. The beta blocker had changed the landscape for birthmarks... they were now being treated more and more right after birth. The old statistic that about 10% of kids would have a hemangioma, and this was more common in girls born early of older mothers (our three elements), was changing. All of the sudden, these same doctors that told us to be patient were now saying "You are going to look at having it removed, right?"

I couldn't count on my hands and feet the number of times they would say "Kids can be cruel." and that was that. And while I resisted this advice, part of me was ready too. I hated hearing the comments... and those were just the ones that I was around to hear!  One set of grandparents would say "don't do anything and watch it fade beta blocker " and I would resent that because they hadn't read the Internet research that indicated that it wouldn't fade or shirk any further. And then the other set of grandparents would say "you should look into the surgery" and I would resent that too because they hadn't read the Internet research indicated the risk of bleeding and tough scar placement. I got back to researching it to death and got frustrated when Mark didn't want to read all the links I would send him and didn't want to talk about what to do all hours of the night. And when he did voice an opinion, I would resent that too "You aren't with her enough to hear all the comments, I am!" I would say back at him. Part of me was ready, and part of me was 180 degrees from ready. No one had the right answer for me and I was frustrated.

I didn't know what to pray for.

So we went to see a surgeon a few weeks ago. And he was the opposite of wishy-washy and told us, in front of Sadie, that we needed to operate and here is how he would handle it. The visit was less than 12 minutes and I walked out shell-shocked. I would have been fine with this guy operating on me -- it is kind of like picking out kitchen appliances, I am perfectly fine with letting someone else make tough decisions and me not getting involved in too many details. But this was Sadie. And I was not feeling right about this.

Again, what do I pray for?  Clarity. A few people told me that - and it was eye opening. "I pray that it becomes clear what to do."  What??  Really??

So I took their advice. And I stopped praying that I would have the strength to schedule the surgery. And I stopped praying that I would have the strength to resist societal pressures to have the surgery. I sent a last email to a wonderful vascular birthmark foundation that I had communicated with over the years to ask if they had any advice on questions to ask surgeons about their techniques. And I wept when she wrote back and sent along information along with saying this "I want to applaud you on how you have raised your daughter."  It was a reminder that what we did for the last four and a half years was right for us and shouldn't be revisited. Sure I could have found a surgeon to take it off when she was a baby and we wouldn't be going through this ordeal now. But somewhere in that birthmark was a lesson for mother and daughter and I am glad that I was learning it.

We did the right thing. For more than four and a half years, we have done the right thing. And if we are open to it, we will do the right thing again. I started to pray for clarity. I stopped praying that I would make the right choice. I prayed that the right choice would just appear.

We went to see a new surgeon on last Friday afternoon. I had scheduled the appointment a few months ago, at the same time that I scheduled the appointment with the surgeon that we saw a few weeks ago. Both of these surgeons had been recommended by our pediatric dermatologist two years ago. None of my earlier paperwork made it to this appointment, and we had to wait almost an hour to be seen. It wasn't starting off too well.

But... it was remarkable. The moment we walked into the consultation room (3 couches facing each other, and a million toys on the fourth side for Sadie to play with), we knew she was the right person. Her whole explanation of what she wanted to do and how the anesthetic would work was understandable. Every question I asked her was responded to with "That's a great question" followed by her explanation. She is a few years younger than me and I can honestly say, I have never trusted someone more. She has a different way of approaching the birthmark and will focus on removing portions of the bump underneath more than the surface mark, allowing the surface mark some more time to fade and possibly respond to more laser treatments. The bump underneath is now a fatty mass and needs to be removed, but she will make a much smaller incision which will leave a smaller scar. No external stitches -- yay for derma-glue-- and the internal ones will dissolve. She predicts surgery of under an hour. And the technique for the anesthetic will affect short term memory "so your child will never remember that you weren't there the whole time". Their most important goal is that the child doesn't have negative associations with surgery. While she can't make promises because she hasn't seen what is under the skin, she is not worried about the size of the mass underneath or about blood loss. You can tell that she isn't flip or pomous... she has done these surgeries before and is happy to share her experience.  

Mark and I walked out on the same page with huge smiles on our faces. Our nanny Tyler (who had been with the other surgeon's appointment too) looked at us with the same expression "Wow!"  As I drove Sadie home, Sadie said "I want to do that surgery."  And I said "That's great, you mean -- are you saying that you want to have the surgery?" And she was quiet for a minute and then said "That's not what I said Mommy, I said I want to do the surgery... I want to be that kind of doctor and do that kind of surgery."  Ahh, my special child.

It is amazing- once I stopped fretting about the choice to make, it became clear for the right thing to do.

We will ask for your prayers on the date for the operation. And if you ever have a friend or relative that has a child born with a hemangioma birthmark, have them contact me.

God's Plans

Mark and I are fanatical about Christmas, and we are joyfully raising Sadie in this tradition. I personally don't have a problem with Christmas decorations up in department stores in October, and I start listening to my Christmas music just before Halloween. I certainly respect others who may have a contrary practice themselves. But Mark and I, we are living examples of the refrain "We need a little Christmas, right this very minute..."  Sadie had a funny retort when a teacher once told her that it was a little bit early for her Santa shirt in October by saying "It is never too early to be thankful for Jesus' birthday." 

My own celebration of the Christmas season from October through December is not about commercialization -- rather, it is my celebration of the central tenant of my own sense of Christianity: the celebration of encounters with friends and family, creation of special moments together, snuggling and cuddling, singing and storytelling, decorating... enjoying each other and the time we have right now. The Christmas season has reminds me to be grateful for what I have. So honestly, no... I don't get sick of that prevailing spirit in my own life by the time December 25th comes around. Sure I get overwhelmed at times, and there is some exhaustion thrown in the mix (as well as sugar highs and lows). But I am more aware of the meaning of my life and the happiness in it during my extended Christmas season. I am thankful that Jesus gives me a few months to remember that.

No surprise, we have more than a dozen nativity scenes in our house. My mother started each Misage child with our own after we graduated from college, giving us just one piece a year. Mark had several, and we have gotten a few special ones since we got married. We got a wonderful wooden Haba one Sadie could play with when she was nearly two, and last year at nearly four, we let her touch some of our fragile ones. This year, she and Tyler made one from scratch.

Almost every single night since Halloween, we spend an hour "Playing Manger" in our house. Sometimes I get the role of the angel and Mark often gets to play the wise men. Sadie is nearly always Mary... and honestly, Joseph doesn't say much so Sadie just moves him along (and lets him tend to Mary, like she knows a good husband should).

Sadie is also the chief narrator, and the plot changes depending on how much time we have (and how much of a dictator she feels like being). Sometimes the wise men go to the wrong town first and the angel has to remind them to "FOLLOW THE BIG STAR" and go back to the fork in the road to find Bethlehem. Sometimes the animals are the ones to show Mary and Joseph where the best stable is instead of them going to the Inn and being turned away first. Sometimes the shepherd and the sheep beat Mary and Joseph there in the first place, and other times they have to race and cut ahead of the wise men. The wise men bring non-traditional gifts (they always have a mobile and a bowl of cherries though). The animals tend to talk more than the people in our versions. And Mary always starts by telling Joseph "I feel a little weird today" (taken from me telling Sadie the story of her own birth and me waking up the say before she was born and saying to Mark "I feel a little weird today" myself). And Sadie always makes sure that the angel always says "FEAR NOT!" in quite a loud voice (my side of the family's contribution to Sadie's physical being). She is very reassuring, in a dictatorial way.

Sadie asked me the other day "Did you pray to God every day to give you a baby before you got pregnant with me?" and I started to answer her honestly... that yes, I probably prayed to God many times every day since for over two years to get pregnant. But I stopped myself, because I need to be careful to not mislead Sadie to believe that praying for something tangible, such as another sibling, will mean it will automatically come true. So instead I told her that I prayed a lot for a baby, but I also prayed for God's will, whatever that was. And then I reminded her that we have very close friends and family members who may not have a husband, or may not have a child, but that doesn't mean that God wasn't planning something very special for them. And that it was better to not pray for the specific outcome, but instead to pray that God will show his plan to you.

Heavy lesson for a child, but our Sadie is a deep thinker.

"I wonder what God's plan is for me?" she said after a minute. I was overcome by it all, and we just looked at each other for a bit. Then she said "I bet his plan is that I will have a baby girl, and you will come take care of her for me and we will take her to lunch at Starbucks."  I grinned. The heavy moment had passed, and I said "Yes, I hope that is God's plan for you."

We have a friend that lost a child today, not yet two years old. What we thought initially was normal infant reflux turned out to be something far worse, and we have watched this family struggle for many months. In the meantime, they brought into the world another child,  but today, their first baby left them.

Gosh, it is hard to understand God's will during these times. It is really hard to look at parents burying a baby and have any comprehension of how horrific it is.

It is also hard to understand why some women get no babies, some get only one, and some get more than ten. I have read the books about why bad things happen to good people and I always conclude that God gives those that have lost something a some deeper sense of faith or strength or something, so that somehow, it doesn't hurt as much as it looks like it would. That's what I hope, at least.

On a smaller scale, that is what happened to me. I know that we have friends who look at us and think "poor Webbs, they only got to have one child" or "poor Sadie, no siblings for her."  And yet, I feel like the luckiest person in the world most nights just by having her and Mark and Daisy all in my kitchen with me.  Taking aside a few tantrums here and there, and I can tell you that I pause after conversations with Sadie daily and see how blessed I am. I lay with her every night and watch her eyes close and her dreams creep in. I would have loved more children, but I truly see how blessed I am with just one. I want for nothing except more time to enjoy her. My friend Megan gave me the best compliment that I have ever received when she wrote to me "Not a better mother with more love for her child do I know! ... your sheer delight in your precious daughter point me back to what matters. Sadie has one special mother."  (It could have only been made better by commenting that my ass was shrinking in every picture she saw of me!)

Motherhood is challenging, and it is exhausting. It is like my extended Christmas season in many ways, with its own sugar highs and lows. But I can think of nothing more rewarding than what I am doing now.  It is so clear to me that my path which once focused heavily hours and hours given to the practice of law is so better balanced now that it is driven by a commitment to my daughter, my husband, our family and friends, and myself.  While I wish that I had seen this path a little clearer in my 20's, I am glad that God didn't wait until my 60s to show it to me. Our cup, indeed, runs over.

What Makes You Special

A dear friend of mine from high school is just finishing up her maternity leave, having had her fourth daughter. This daughter was much sought after (and I am not suggesting that other children are not) since my friend is recently remarried and her other girls are tween-or-teenagers. She and I have exchanged emails about fun topics like which is the best vacuum cleaner to buy and how to get a three month old to sleep through the night.  I seem to read these emails right before I am going to sleep (note to friend, she needs to go to bed earlier herself) and this has brought back memories and reflection on our first few months of Sadie's life. She was a glorious sleeper then... we were very lucky. She was a horrid sleeper from age six months until... sometime very recently?? But yet, as I reflect on this, we are still so very lucky. I thank my friend for reminding me how special the little moments are with our children, even if they come in the middle of the night.

As we struggled with little things like when she would sleep uninterrupted (fingers crossed, she does that now), when she would walk without holding on to my finger (14 months but never even stumbled thereafter), adjusting to new nannies (we even survived a practicing witch), how she would test for kindergarten, etc., all of these challenges look so silly and small in hindsight.  Somehow in my own mind I have reconciled both my Tiger Mom and Helicopter Mom tendencies, and feel like I am a blend of each (a tiger on a helicopter, perhaps). I believe that it is my job to prepare Sadie by giving her a firm foundation and belief in herself and her skills to face the challenges of her little world, but to let her face them with her own developed skills. Thereafter I just watch in the wings and love her as hard as I can. Learning to swim was important to me, but being a star on the soccer team doesn't mean much. I tell her a million times how much we love her but I try not to tell her that she is perfect, or that we are perfect, because we aren't.

We are now at the point for deciding what to do about Sadie's birthmark.

I will never forget the moment that a nurse named Faith handed me my beautiful baby daughter after performing a C-section and said how perfect she was, then pointing to her cheek and saying "and that's probably a hemangioma strawberry birthmark, right there."  It was a little halo, almost invisible with the tears of joy streaming from my eyes. Within four weeks, it had grown to the size of a dime and was probably a quarter size and bright red by the time she started seeing a dermatologist at 10 weeks. We saw several doctors in person when she was a baby and consulted doctors over the Internet, participated in reputable website chat rooms of parents with kids who had far worse hemangiomas than we had.  We had laser treatments which did very little.  The first year of dealing with this was stressful for me at best.  People asked about it incessantly... even now I can recall so many of their comments. Parents and kids alike would ask what it was.  Sadie's hemangioma has a deep and a surface component, so at its largest it looked like she might be holding a golf-ball in her cheek. And as luck would have it, that was how it looked when she smiled for the camera.  And we all like to smile.

I firmly believe that God gave us a reminder to chill out about it when Sadie was just over a year and she met the girl who became her best friend, Bella.  They met in McDonald's of all places, with their nannies (neither of which are their nannies now, but their nannies now are close close friends as well). They were born two days apart in the same hospital, so both girls like to say how they actually met in the hospital nursery. And they both have hemangiomas on their same left cheeks. They aren't identical in size or type, but they certainly make them a unique duo.

And through the gift of friendship with this girl and her family, along with the passage of time and my growing confidence as a mother, and the growth of Sadie's vibrant personality, the birthmark has shrank both literally and figuratively. This family has become so much more than the family of another child with a birthmark, but it was how we met because the girls as babies really were identical.

We saw our dermatologist twice a year and saw a plastic surgeon every other year or so over the years. And everyone agreed to just watch to see how it would fade. Hemangiomas are supposed to go away on their own, about 10% a year, so 10% of kids lose them by 1 year of age, 20% by 2 years of age, 30% by 3 years of age and so on. Some doctors say to have them surgically removed on infants especially when they are large or on the face, others say to wait it out and see what happens after a few years. There are pros and cons to operating early or later, or not at all, all too complex for this blog.  Suffice it to say that our dermatologist and surgeon have said that Sadie's will never fully disappear and both recommend surgery. And our pediatrician (as well as our ENT, who we didn't ask for his thoughts but he volunteered them anyway last summer) have said "kids will be cruel" and we should get it removed before she starts kindergarten.

So yesterday we saw the plastic surgeon for a check up and he recommended removal in the early spring. Simple outpatient procedure he calls it, under anesthesia for about an hour, stitches and a scar. He will debulk the bump underneath and take off the birthmark on the top.  All of this was said, for the first time, in front of Sadie.

Last night at bedtime, Sadie asked for me to promise that she didn't have to have the surgery. Surgery is scary, it will hurt, I don't want to have to go to sleep. All of these I can deal with. We drive over a scary bridge down a the river, but it is worth it when we eat at our favorite hamburger place. I can promise that it won't hurt, I can promise that I will be there with her when she goes to sleep and when she wakes up. All of these things are matter-of-facts, and I can deal with them.

But you said that I was beautiful and special with my birthmark. I don't want it to go away. I want it to stay forever, or at least let it go away slowly on its own. You told me I was special!

Oh, you so are!

This is not an easy choice for Mom and Dad, but I don't tell her that.  I just tell her that she is beautiful and special and that Mommy and Daddy will think about it for awhile and we will do the right thing, whatever it is. Because that is our job, as her parents, and it isn't her job as the child.

How I wish the world was accepting of birthmarks on faces but frankly, they aren't. We flew in first class down to Disneyworld last spring on a 6 am flight and the first words out of our flight attendant to us was "What happened to her face?" So much for a great kickoff to our first flight and the world of magic and wonder. It just doesn't work that way. Sadie is a social confident outgoing girl. If anyone could handle a birthmark on her life, she could. But do I want her to be subject to the questions and comments when we can easily make it easier for her?  Is it truly easy surgery?  Our surgeon is confident. But could I live with myself if I chose this cosmetic option and something went wrong?

Interestingly, both Mark and I have a niece (on my side) and a nephew (on Mark's side) who have had a birthmark removed from their faces. One was a hemangioma that wouldn't stop ulcerating so they had it removed when she was under 2 years. One was a true mole that was large and they had it removed when he was 5 or 6.  I don't think either of their parents regret the surgeries they had for their children. But it doesn't make the late night questions and answers easier.  I can't protect her from everything in this world, nor should I. But my job is to build her foundation and belief in herself. I feel like I have contradicted myself in what I said to her, and I hate that.

So I ask for your prayers. There is no right or wrong answer.

Fast Forward... Now Slow Down

August and September blew by this year without any posts. Daisy seems to have gotten past her bout with mortality and is living each day to the fullest.  Sticking to her wheat-free-hypo-allergenic dog food has been relatively easy for us. We made her grass fed beef and rice mini-meatloaves shaped into dog-paw shapes for her 10th birthday on September 11 and all of us ate them for dinner!  We know that we are on some borrowed time with her - as whatever it was that caused the dramatic increase in pancreatic enzymes and the enlarged adenoid is still there. But we are grateful for each day and hopeful that she will be with us a few more years.  She makes her way up to Sadie's room every night for stories at 7:30 and often will stay there, asleep next to Sadie's bed, until Daisy may wander into our room when we go to bed. There is nothing like the feeling that one gets when you crack the door to check on your little human at 10:30 at night, and you can see her pet companion raise her own head, as if to say "All is fine, you don't need to check on us... I will guard her" just with her own bloodshot and tired eyes.  Daisy has lived up to her birthright as she was born on September 11, 2011. She is indeed a very special dog.

We survived an earthquake and a hurricane in Richmond VA. And we squeezed in a last trip to the beach and stayed with Mark's brother and his family who were just a block from our dear friends, the Littles, so Sadie enjoyed beach days with her best friend Isabella. Watching these girls who were born just two days apart, both with identical birthmarks, grow up has been remarkable. They have been each other's constant companions for so many years -- and now have turned into these little ladies with plenty of sass!  The Littles are God's answer to Mark and I not being able to give Sadie a family of many siblings. She loves the hectic chaos that is in their house, and yet appreciates coming home to our peace and quiet at the end of the day. And we love them for it!

Sadie's last year at First Baptist started in early September and we have been rolling through the weeks with a whole new set of rules with Pre-K. She is loving all the new responsibility that comes with being one of the "Pre-K Kids", including crossing the street to go to a new playground, having her lunch at school, carrying her own tote bag, and writing a ton more.  Every day there is some new discovery. She is a reporter, always full of details on what happened during the day during dinnertime with Mark and me. She has a keen sense of humor. She's a list maker --- I am constantly spelling words for her so she can write them down. She makes us laugh. And she makes us grateful. Four and a half is my favorite age ever (but I will admit at saying that at a lot of other ages too).

And now we are upon our favorite time of the year. Sadie has joined me in a true love of the lead-time for Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas. We are fully into reading holiday books and listening to Christmas music whenever we can. We have great plans to decorate this year. Our house on Monument Avenue will shine with lights of every sort and every color as Sadie has designed new specs for lots of decorations. And we are new owners of a small pad in Urbanna, Virginia where we will hopefully stash some decorations to use for the holidays too. It is all so exciting and thrilling!

We visited with my parents this weekend and we are anticipating my mom's 70th birthday on Halloween. It was a great visit, full of laughter. And all of the Misage kids and grandkids will be together for Thanksgiving this year.  We are lucky to have my parents doing so well. Unfortunately, we continue to be saddened by Mark's mother's battle with Alzheimer's and, added to that, the dramatic decisions that his father makes in his own sort of vacuum.  The stress of the latter has been unlike any I have ever known. We continue to pray for some resolution there, and try to preserve our marriage and our nuclear family in the meantime.  I never expected how hard it would be to balance giving so much to your own child and to also watch horrible things happening to your spouse's parents.  Mark's mother has been a saint. I realize how good my own marriage is, probably in large part due to the sense of consideration and understanding with which she raised my husband, her son. We try to pass along who she was to Sadie, and shield her from all the ugliness that is happening at present. As she gets older, that is getting harder and harder.

And so, we focus on the holidays. This little girl that we waited for so impatiently in our marriage... she now is developing at lightening speed.  She greets the days and the seasons with joyful anticipation. I try to learn from her and have her optimism.  We will enjoy the last quarter of 2011 and try not to worry about all that we can't control.

Noises in the Night

I was lying awake at 1 a.m. last night listening to the noises around me.

At the foot of our bed in her sleeping bag was Sadie. She comes in every night to sleep in our room. She used to come into our bed, a habit that grew much more common this summer. Someone gave me the idea to insist that she sleep in a sleeping bag, thinking that sleeping on the floor would lose its appeal soon enough and she would be back to her wonderful bed in no time. It has had the opposite effect, and now she wonders down around 9:30 pm. She doesn't want to be alone, she says, when the rest of her family sleeps in one room.

Next to Mark's side of the bed was Daisy on her dog bed. For much of the summer, Daisy had not been coming to sleep in our room where she traditionally slept. I would find her on the bathroom floor most of the time and thought that she must have chosen that place because she was hot. More and more often the last few weeks she wouldn't make it up the stairs at all and would sleep down in the den. But after our scary brush with death last week, she has been coming up to our room the last two nights and taken her old place in her dog bed next to us.  She is acting younger and healthier just the last two days. Like our old dog again. But this is making us realize that she really was different this summer.  Except for  our week at the beach, Daisy grew much older this summer.

So there we are, a family of four in a 5200 square foot house, all sleeping in a 7 foot by 7 foot square.

And then, all of the sudden, Sadie started laughing in her sleep. Giggling away. I sat up and peered over at her but her eyes were still closed, and she tightly held her blankie and bunny that have been her companions for life. But her face was lit up in happiness.  What was she dreaming, I wondered. It went on for more than a minute. She was so joyful.

I looked over at Daisy then, and she too was awake watching this. My ever present companion, she has always woken with me in the middle of the night. When Sadie was an infant, Daisy woke up for every feeding with me, coming downstairs to make the bottles and then up again with me to give them to her. Guarding us from what? Loneliness maybe? Solitude? Fear?  There is a reason why the yellow lab is the most popular dog in America. She has never chosen her own needs over the needs of her family. She is ever devoted to Sadie, Mark and me. She watched the laughter, and looked at me for a few minutes. She waited until I laid back down before she resettled herself. Now her head was facing Sadie's body. I bet she watched for longer like that.

Today, we don't know what the future holds for Daisy. The past two days, she has acted almost completely normal with us, full of smiles and tail wagging. But this morning she had a bit more blood in her poop. And she wanted to lay outside instead of coming in to eat. Could she sense that we were out of ground beef and she would only get chicken breast with her rice?  Of course not Daisy girl, we will just need to defrost some more for tonight. You will have steak, I told her!  She eventually came in.  We have a vet appointment on Friday for some more tests. Perhaps I should bring her in today with the appearance of more blood, I think my discharge instructions say to do so. But she hated the vet. She needs a break I rationalize. She will be fine at home with us for a few more days.

Sadie said to me this morning over breakfast, matter-of-factly "Daisy knows she is going to die soon."  I feel my heart breaking. We don't know that, I want to say --  we will get some treatment, she may be fine, she is only ten, if she has Cushing's, she might be able to have treatment and live another 3-4 years, I want to say. Then I see that Sadie has gotten down from her chair and is laying on the floor next to Daisy and Daisy gives her a lick on her cheek. I start packing my lunch and can see out of the corner of my eye that Sadie is sneaking Daisy cheerios from her bowl one by one. "Don't tell Mommy" she whispers. I just look away. Surely Cheerios don't violate the bland diet instruction.

We will make it. Tonight I will lay awake longer and thank God again for my blessings, all right beside me in the small space together. We will make it. Mark and I raise good caring loving beings, one human and one furry. We will make it.

Good Enough.

Last night, I started a book that I truly believe is going to be fabulous. Just 50 pages into it and I was trying to wake up my sleeping husband with by gleeful revelation that finally I have discovered it is OK to feel the way I do.  He didn't really seem too excited, and continued falling asleep. So this morning when we both woke up, I immediately tried to explain the main concepts of the book as I understood them. The problem was that I could not, at 6:30 am, remember the names of the two groups into which the authors had divided mothers who are working professionally outside the home. I grabbed the book to find the terms, but despite the bright light in our bedroom and me locating the correct page, I could not read the words on the page!!  Another added bonus of motherhood in my 40s -- I can't read fine print for the first 20 minutes of waking up. I couldn't even find the reading glasses.

Now several hours later, I can recall the two groups... it is something like the Always Perfects and the Good Enoughs. They did a study and determined that the Always Perfects are pretty miserable and the Good Enoughs are pretty darn happy.

Like a lot of the women featured in the book, I used to be a classic Always Perfect. I fundamentally believe that the private practice of law in large firms grooms women to be this way - it is likely in the drinking water.  As a transactional attorney, we were expected to work through the night when a deal so dictated, and fight for the smallest detailed points, such as where a comma goes in a a document. I laugh now when I think back to a several hour debate that we once were embroiled in at the printer over the use of the words presently and currently (for the curious among you, they don't mean the same thing). I was the perfect keeper of every last detail. It isn't like our profession lacked times of fun and laughter too, but the expectation was pure and absolute dedication, whatever time the day or night a client needed you.

When I first had Sadie, I tried to continue my Always Perfect personality at work. And I attempted to bring it home too. And slowly but surely, I kept falling short.

I couldn't fix Sadie's birthmark on her face over my maternity leave, notwithstanding that I researched the issue for hours upon hours a day. I couldn't fix projectile vomiting problem either, notwithstanding that I stood in line outside the Babies R Us before it opened after determining that perhaps the slow flow nipple was too slow and the fast flow nipple was too fast and thus that very moment I needed to find and buy some medium flow nipples to solve this issue. I couldn't fix her sleep issues that began at six months notwithstanding that I have bought every sleep book (and even bought a few of them twice, having thrown away the first copy one night when my kid was crying it out and I was having an emotional breakdown).  While I personally thought mothers who made their own baby food were obsessed and had too much time on their hands,  there were several times when I went ballistic on Mark for buying Sadie's diapers at the grocery store instead of the Target across town which had them $0.50 cheaper with the coupon that I had cut out. 

The more I tried to control everything around me at home, the more everything was falling out of my control. And the more I tried to get back on the train of being the super-star girl lawyer that I had been to as a partner at the firm, the more I felt like I was failing Sadie.  Great - I was a failure at home and at work.  Now what?

It seemed so obvious when I read about it in this book last night!

As opposed to the Always Perfects, there is a breed of much happier working professional mothers that are the Good Enoughs. And a year after I have moved firms and gone part-time, I think in this group is where I finally am located.  (Though I will admit, this morning when I begged for verification from Mark "I am in the Good Enough group, right? Listen to me Mark. Right? Right? That is me now, Right??" So I might still have some obsessive tendencies).

The Good Enoughs, have re-set their own bars measuring success so they can actually meet them. It isn't about settling for less than you want, it is about adjusting your wants so you will succeed and be happy with yourself.

Sadie slept in her bed all night last night (instead of the sleeping bag in our room where she has been since we returned from vacation). Big milestone for my girl, who has been in and out of our bed 95% of the nights for the last 2 years. So quickly I run to the shelf in our laundry closet where I keep a stash of presents for birthday parties, new coloring books, etc. for these moments, and I pull out a set of unopened Brain Quest for 4-5 year olds. Sadie was never crazy about the set we used a year ago (3-4 year olds perhaps) but honestly, our gift shelf is pretty depleted right now. So they were waiting for her at breakfast.

She ate a microwaved leftover pancake for breakfast that I had folded into a sandwich and filled with peanut butter. Success for my quest to get some protein into her, since they don't give morning snacks at her camps and fun at camp is wholly dependent, we have learned, on her eating a solid breakfast. Breakfast ended, time for Mommy to go take a shower.

But she wanted to do the Brain Quest cards.

Sure we have time for a few, and a few we did. No, she wanted to do them all. And she was good at them. How much harm can this be? I said to myself. I am not with her all day, and all she is asking is for a little more time with her mother. My hair is longer now, it doesn't need to be washed every day. And I haven't put on a stitch of make-up other than daily lipstick since I got married 7 years ago I think (how sad is that). So my getting ready routine can be shortened.

So we sat there and played with the cards until we had exactly 12 minutes for both of us to get dressed and get our bags packed to leave for camp, and then me for work thereafter. We made it. I took a speedy shower and Sadie did her own hair. It was good enough.

After I dropped Sadie at camp, I hit the newly remodeled Kroger to grab a few things we were out of and something for dinner. While I was there, I got an email from one of my co-workers saying "Before I come up to meet with you this morning, I wanted to tell you I was wearing my Talbot's green skirt in case you were wearing yours too."  I didn't respond.  The Almost Perfect in me would have felt guilty that here she was working while I was at the grocery store, and would have responded that indeed I wasn't wearing the green skirt, but did we have a meeting scheduled? The Good Enough in me was 90% sure we had nothing scheduled, and was 100% happy that I could grab something from Kroger this morning instead of fighting the traffic this direction to get there tonight after work but before dinner. It was 8:45. I happily went on my way, and my refrigerated groceries are in their bag down in the firm's refrigerator on 2 now, from which I will grab them and head home tonight. We didn't have a meeting, she just had a question. Which I answered 90 minutes after she emailed.  It feels good enough.

There are so many things in life that I can't control right now. Sadie's birthmark and whether or not we should operate. Mark's parents' health and the demands of time that is taken from him to deal with way too many issues.  Where Sadie will get into kindergarten, and if several places, which one would be best suited for her.  The real estate market in Richmond, which governs where we live right now.  My lack of friends at my new office. And my inability to effectively carve out time for most of my old friends.

But if I open my eyes and look, there are far more things that are given to me as opportunities for success. An ability to walk with Daisy after Sadie has gone to sleep and feel the cold front coming in after a few scorching days.  Time to play games with Sadie in the morning.  Not washing my hair and having ten extra minutes. Grocery shopping on the way to work. Exercising every day during lunch.  Those things I am wildly successful at. I have exceeded my wildest expectation on how to make do, fly by the seat of my pants, get what matters done. Those are my successes these days.

Sadie has the Misage family genes for anxiety and I sense that she will go through an Always Perfect phase. While she loves to hear the story of her birth, a few weeks ago she got very upset upon thinking of having a baby cut out of her tummy one day. Last week she told me right before she fell asleep "I wish I was a boy."  Oooh, gender identification issues already at 4, I wondered.  But when I asked why, her answer was "Because boys don't have to have babies, and I don't want to have babies. "You don't have to have any babies if you don't want to... You have many years to decide... That is not going to happen for a long long time."  "Like 100 years?" she asked me. "Close to that," I told her, "Why are you worried about it now?"  "Because I don't want the doctor to have to cut the baby out of me" she responded. "By the time you have a baby, in 100 years or so Sadie, the doctors will have invented a new way to get babies out of their mommies that don't hurt at all, so there is no use worrying about it now." I told her.

She was quiet for a few minutes and said "You mean like... out of my hand like this?" and she motioned her hand as if to be sprinkling something out of it. "Just like magic fairy dust?" she asked. "Yes" I said, "they will probably figure out a way that a doctor can help you sprinkle the baby out of your hand just like you sprinkle the magic fairy dust!" I told her.

Maybe an exaggeration, but good enough.