Thinking Thankfully...

I'm Thankful for what I have; the many blessings that fill my life, both visible and invisible. The tangible things that I can see everyday and hug, kiss, and love. My husband. My Children. My precious family. I'm thankful for the freedoms I have, that I take for granted every day. For the blessings that I may so often overlook, or worse, mistake for mundane minutiae. I'm thankful for the very fact that I can sit in this chair and just think about all the many things I do have to be thankful for. What a privilege indeed to have that luxury of taking the time to be grateful!

But I'm also thankful for the things that I DON'T have. I'm thankful that I live in a country that's not torn by war on its own soil. I'm thankful that I live in a community & neighborhood where we don't have to see violence everyday. I'm thankful to live in a family where there is no domestic violence. No hunger. No poverty. Our struggles are real, but they are inconsequential when compared to the plight of so many others who are fighting against really insurmountable odds.

The most important thing to me is that I have these things to be thankful for everyday. Not one day a year. Or one week. Or a month. These things stay with me in November, and are still there come July. This life is filled with blessings ready to be seen by anyone who has the eyes to see them.

And I'm thankful for that too.

Best. Job. Ever.

I have a secret. It's something that I don't know if I've ever told anyone. Sound interesting? Want me to share it? Of course you do. As soon as someone says, "I have a secret", followed by, "I've never told anyone this.." you automatically want to know what it could be. Human nature.

After that glorious lead-in, I hope it's not anticlimactic to say that my secret is this: I love being a Stay At Home Mom. I mean that. I love it. I am not a fair weather mom here. I love the whole kit and caboodle. The good days, when love and pride swells my heart; and the bad days when I'm not sure I want to claim either child as my offspring. Each and every day is an amazing gift, and I'm grateful and in love with each.

Perhaps you're wondering why, oh why, would this declaration be any sort of secret? Truth be told, I had no inkling that I would even like it. I was that woman who would have the kids and be back at work without missing a beat. I needed my job. It was a part of who I was. It grounded me and gave me a sense of purpose. I had no desire to give up the rigors and stresses of my job to stay at home and stare at babies all day. What fun would that be? What do babies even DO??

God made other plans for me, though. Better ones, as it turned out. There are still days when I miss my teaching job. I miss the thrill of being in a room where learning (no matter how small) is going on. I miss the charged air of a classroom. But, in the end, I wouldn't give this up for anything. And you know what? Being in love with the 'Now' of my life, doesn't make me any less of a modern woman. It's not that 'My Place' is in the home; it's that my JOB just happens to be here right now. Conveniently located in our house. Such a short commute! And of course there will be a day when my job here will probably cut its hours, allowing me some time to get out there and take up a "second" job...just for kicks and giggles. And I'll do that. Then. Later. In the future.

Right now, I'm here. My 'Present' is defined by being allowed the privilege to watch my girls blossom into young ladies right before my eyes. It's an awesome job. I don't know how I lucked out enough to get picked for it, but the Boss must have known what He was doing when He chose me for it.

I'm loving it. Daily.

An Extraordinary Day

Today, an extraordinary event happened: Caedance, my own little touch-me-not, just crawled up on my lap for a cuddle. I didn't have to chase her. I didn't have to coax her. Nor did a bribe have to be uttered (or an ultimatum for that matter). Just a sweet little girl, still little enough to know it IS in fact cool to climb up on your mama's lap for a snuggle. You are never too old for that.

And so I find myself gathering moments like these; precious and few. Hording them in the recess of my mind, diligently storing them where I can retrieve them later. My heart still catches a bit when I think of them being 6. All too soon, 6 will turn to 7, which will inevitably lead to 8. And from 8, well, it's not more than a breath away before The Kraken (else wise known as Hormones) will be released. At that point, perhaps my little gifts will not recognize me, or perhaps I won't recognize them; either way, the relationship will bend and change, prayerfully for the better.

I love every moment of the Present that we've been blessed with. Each new activity and new ability. Each shared thought and each stored memory. It's all golden. Every bit of it. But I still have a small garden of Past that I tend personally; keeping each bit of planted fragility cared for and watched over. On days when my little sweet wonders don't visit me for a cuddle, I visit my garden of memories to remember the days when one or both of them were constantly in my arms.

And even as they grow up and become more and more the women we continue to pray that they'll be; developing flowers that are beautiful in every way, I cherish the memories we've made and the memories yet to be made. And I'm forever thankful for each and every single day we have. Each and every one.

Happy Birthday!

I'm sitting on the couch in the living room, shrouded by memories of a very different night, 6 years ago. October 13, 2004 found me in a hospital bed. Waiting. I'd been doing a lot of that by that time: waiting. I was 34 weeks pregnant. Had pre-eclampsia, and was daily adding more symptoms to my list of slowly spreading damage being done by it.

My pregnancy with the girls was not easy. My blood pressure was the first traitor to Team Amanda. Before the end of my first trimester, I was on blood pressure meds to keep it to a reasonable level, which was high regardless. Next came issues with the girls. First it appeared that both had Downs Syndrome, which led to several weeks of waiting. When that panned out to be untrue, we spent 3 terrifying months unsure if they were conjoined, in which case we faced a very dangerous pregnancy & delivery indeed. When they were finally deemed "separate", it was then decided that they were in the same sack (mono amniotic/mono chorionic or mo-mo twins), which was presented to us in a  package neatly delivered with a 50% fetal mortality rate. On one or both babies. Several more weeks of near constant fetal monitoring brought us up to my 26th birthday. I got the best gift ever when they finally saw the world's thinnest membrane separating the sacks; they were not mo-mo twins. BUT (yes, that's right, there's more!), they did seem to show inconsistencies in growth in relation to each other, which put us at risk of Twin-To-Twin-Transfusion-Syndrome (TTTS). Several more weeks of monitoring were spent making sure that the structure of each umbilical cord was correct, and was sending nutrients to each girl equally. (In the end, we were fortunate not to have had any issues with TTTS. It's an incredibly dangerous and potentially fatal condition for the multiples that experience it).
All THAT having been navigated, things started "calming down" around 28 weeks. Sure, my blood pressure was still sky high (on meds),but after that obstacle course, I could handle it. Picture my frame of mind; after months of near constant worry about very legitimate and real problems, my girls had finally been cleared. We were on our way. My only task was to get to the magical 37 weeks and I'd be home free.
And then I went into pre-term labor. At 30 weeks. Thankfully, I was at one of my still several-time-weekly check ups when they saw the contractions that I didn't realize I was having. 5 days in the hospital and a new-found hatred of the demon that is "Magnesium Sulfate" later and I was back at home. Contraction free and sequestered to the couch. But I still had my freedom. Ha! They couldn't take that away from me! No more injustices could be done, AND I got to wear my underwear. So that THAT, hospital.
Exactly 30 hours later I was being wheeled right back into that place. This time to the Perinatal ward, which would be my home for the unforeseen future. It was there that I was diagnosed with Pre-eclampsia. My blood pressure continued to spike. I was on 6 large dose pills a day. I was spilling proteins like a float throwing candy at a parade. Every single joint in my body was filled with fluid. I had fluid accumulating around my spine and in my neck. Every day my coloring got a bit grayer and I felt a lot sicker. Sick from the inside. And somehow I was still supposed to grow these babies and keep them safe in an environment that was becoming more and more toxic.
After biding my time in the hospital bed, October 13th rolled around. Cue water break. Enter Labor. (Call for the epidural! Hey, I made it to 5cm before I went for the drugs). A nice night of sleeping. (Sigh. Thank you blessed drugs). 
On October 14th, 2004, my life changed. For the better. 
At 8:29am Caedance appeared, followed by Ashlyn at 8:36. I wish I could say that it was an easy delivery with no complications, but that would be a lie. I'll save THAT story for another entry though. Too many words have already been written.
My life has been made better by these two precious creatures that I call my own. They are constant blessings that I have the joy of counting every day. 

Happy Birthday, Ashlyn & Caedance!

Making Way For Autumn.

It's fall. Did I mention that I love fall? Because I do. I love it. Goodbye heavy, humid air of summer; hello crisp, clear air of Autumn. There's something bright and wonderful about a day that smells like coloring leaves. See ya next year, Chlorophyll.

 Some have said that the Fall is a season of dying, followed by a winter-long look at death, but I don't see it that way. To me, Fall is a reminder of God's awesome ability to wipe the slate clean. Slowly. With style. There's nothing "sudden" about Fall. It's an entire season of false starts and stops. Yesterday is 65, today is 90. Oh, Fall; you fickle thing. Leaves that were verdant green yesterday are tinged with yellow today. What could be more profound that driving through a wooded lane guarded by blushing trees?

Each season has its own unique smell, and I think the scent belonging to Fall may be my favorite. Words to describe it? Crisp. Clear. Woodsmoke. Apple. Corn husk. Change. Golden. God chooses to light Autumn with the flare of an expert light-technician. Do you ever notice the perfect slant of the sunlight? It's just enough to brighten the foliage of the trees while still allowing them to glow all on their own. And is there anything more breathtaking that viewing a darkened sky spotlighted by a setting sun? Or the horizon awash with hues of melon, blush, aubergine, over top a picture-perfect treeline done in charcoal?

I love the way Autumn arrives just as Summer takes a final bow; working together they ease the changing scene. Perfect segue partners. The brutish Winter could take some lessons from this graceful pas de deux. Instead it cuts in quickly, knocking off days or even weeks from Autumn's full schedule; cutting short the last days of a beautiful season. A still frame; yellow leaves frozen to branches; piles of colorful foliage gone brown under an early snow. Suddenly Winter.

I love this season. The bright days. The gray ones. The crisp air. The damp air. The way everything just declares itself; Fall. It may be too short for my liking, but I'm enjoying every day we have of it. Windows open. Sweatshirt on. In the woods or in a meadow. Hello, Autumn. Good to see you again, friend.

A day at a time....

Every day when I go to pick the girls up from school, I find myself holding my breath, waiting for what may come. Will it be a good day with two shining, smiling faces racing to the door to greet me? Or will there be tears of disappointment and negative notes in the folder? I know they are trying so hard to be good students, but the process of adjusting to this new role has been an arduous one for them. Some days are good. Some days are bad.

Today was a good day.

Actually, today was a really good day. First off came the smiling faces, eager to tell me that they'd had a good day. A good start. Second, when we got into the car and I checked the folders, there were no negative notes. No misbehavior noted, mis-focus reported. We were on a roll. We got home and the girls set to work on completing their homework: cutting out square pictures and gluing the ones that held a picture of something that started with 'S' to a Seal; and cutting out letters of the alphabet that will be used in class to make an alphabet snake. When I saw the amount of cutting involved, I inwardly groaned and readied myself for a long afternoon. Generally, the girls are not coordinated with scissors, holding them awkwardly and without much success. It takes them forever to get through even a small amount of cutting, and the end results are tenuous at best.

Imagine my surprise, then, when they were finished with all their cutting work in 15 minutes. Moreover, the items they cut were actually nicely done, albeit it a bit misshapen in places. Still, I was impressed. I was further amazed when they asked to practice writing the letter S. On their own. I got them our lined paper and they set to work. I was prepared to help them out, as I always do, but today they grabbed the pencil and got to work on their own. Pencils held in a far more confident grasp, making the motions on the paper. The result was some pretty great looking letters done by two girls who just months ago could barely even hold a pencil, let alone form a letter legibly. Color me impressed to the nth degree.

They've got a long way to go. I know that. But the excitement for me is in seeing the success they're having with the initial steps were making now. I can only imagine how much greater their strides will be with the tutoring they'll be getting. There is comfort in seeing them overcome some of this on their own though. It makes me realize that these struggles will not hinder them for long. They'll come through this and emerge on the other side as two kick ass students ready to blow expectations out of the water. I'm ready for that day. They're already starting to do it now. :)

Kindergarten Woes

No parent wants to hear that there is something "wrong" with their child. No one wants to think that anything about that precious gift could be amiss in any way. You find yourself looking at them, wondering how you could have "missed" it. Since it's been so terribly off for such a long time, apparently.

Today I received a call to set up our first meeting with the teacher, OT & Speech Pathologist, and principal. We'll be discussing what test results have been gathered and what these results show for the girls. My job during this meeting will be to sit and listen, and try very hard not to take what they're saying as anything other than helpful advice to get the girls on track for success in school. Currently, my brain is torn between being grateful for early detection, and wondering how much of their "issues" stem from being in school for only 2 short weeks and still being unsure about it.

I wasn't surprised when they told me the girls would need to be evaluated for fine motor skills. They made it clear at a very early age that they do not like doing anything that involves those skills. They always hated coloring. Painting. Drawing. Playing board games. All of it. I realized that this would be a problem, so I began using every trick in my teacher's brain to get them interested. To make it fun. Shaving cream. Pudding Paint! Water works. Chalkboards. Dry erase boards. PlayDoh. All of it. And none of it established any sort of real interest. Everyday I declared a "Mommy's Choice" activity time, in hopes of getting them to focus and practice at the same time. My choices were usually worksheets, or cutting and gluing activities. The girls would respond by crying. "Mommy, I don't want to color!" or "It hurts my hand!". We pushed through the tears, and I think we made a lot of progress. Both girls were writing their names by this past May (something they'd never been able to do), and even began writing words and drawing a lot more on the chalkboards without being asked to. But pencil/paper work still makes them struggle.
I'm glad for the extra help they'll be getting with this, and hoping their OT will have better luck getting them to strengthen their hand muscles and make writing easier.

The speech therapy came out of the blue for me. I didn't know there was any concern until their teacher asked if I'd spoken to the Speech Pathologist yet. I wasn't sure what the issue could be, and was hoping it wasn't some aspect of their speech that is a holdover from their years of speaking Twinese. (I'm very protective of their twin language. They don't speak it much anymore, but vestiges of it still remain, and I'd like to keep it that way for as long as possible. Call me crazy. But that's just the way it is.)The issue, it would seem, lies in their reluctance to make eye contact or have a conversation. At home, they do both and they do it well. Ashlyn in particular has become quite the chatter-bug, talking up a storm and constantly looking at us to make sure she's got our full attention. Caedance, our quiet "Observer" has even gotten more talkative. Both have shown a lot of improvement since they've started school. But that's at home. I do know that they are not likely to speak with someone they don't know, even in the "safety zone" of school. I know that they are very used to having strangers come up to them, but are reluctant to speak to them, let alone hold a conversation. A big part of me doesn't see this as a particularly fair assessment of their abilities. I mean, I'm really glad the school is getting on the ball and picking out needs to get the kids up to speed, but in the first few weeks of school, isn't it a bit normal for a student (in a very new environment) to need a little time to sort out her surroundings and work out her place in it? It makes me sad that the expectations of Kindergarten have changed so much that children must be quickly guided into the proper channels rather than giving them any sort of time to independently sort through things on their own. This is the new system though.

So our meeting will be set up and a plan will be created. The fact that the girls need some extra help doesn't bother me. Not at all. I guess my only "issue" is the timing. Seeing so much improvement on our side gives me a feeling that they are heading in the right direction. But I don't want them to struggle. They are both smart and able. And can be quick learners when the mood strikes them. I want them to succeed, so I guess this will be the first step towards that.

We'll see.