Thanks, Kris

The following is yet another email I received - this time from my friend Kris. It's a little early for Mother's Day, but I thought this was pretty neat and didn't want to delete it or forget about it.

This is for the mothers who have sat up
all night with sick toddlers in their arms,
wiping up barf laced with Oscar Mayer
wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying,
'It's okay honey, Mommy's here.'

Who have sat in rocking chairs for hours on end soothing crying babies who can't be comforted.

This is for all the mothers who show up at work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains
on their blouses and diapers in their purse.

For all the mothers who run carpools and
make cookies and sew Halloween costumes.
And all the mothers who DON'T.

This is for the mothers who gave birth to
babies they'll never see. And the mothers
who took those babies and gave them homes.

This is for the mothers whose priceless art
collections are hanging on their refrigerator doors.
And for all the mothers who froze their buns on metal bleachers at football or soccer games instead of watching from the warmth of their cars. And that when their kids asked, 'Did you see me, Mom?' they could say, 'Of course, I wouldn't
have missed it for the world,' and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair when they stomp their feet and scream for ice cream before dinner. And for all the mothers who count to ten instead, but realize how child abuse happens.

This is for all the mothers who sat down with
their children and explained all about making
babies. And for all the (grand)mothers who
wanted to, but just couldn't find the words.

This is for all the mothers who go
hungry, so their children can eat.

For all the mothers who read 'Goodnight,
Moon' twice a night for a year. And then
read it again, 'Just one more time.'

This is for all the mothers who taught
their children to tie their shoelaces before
they started school. And for all the mothers
who opted for Velcro instead.

This is for all the mothers who teach their sons
to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for every mother whose head turns automatically when a little voice calls 'Mom?'
in a crowd, even though they know their
own offspring are at home -- or even away
at college -- or have their own families.

This is for all the mothers who sent their kids
to school with stomach aches, assuring them
they'd be just FINE once they got there, only
to get calls from the school nurse an hour later
asking them to please pick them up. Right away.

This is for mothers whose children have gone
astray, who can't find the words to reach them.

For all the mothers who bite their lips until they
bleed when their 14 year olds dye their hair green.

For all the mothers of the victims of
recent school shootings, and the mothers
of those who did the shooting.

For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging their child who just came home from school, safely.

This is for all the mothers who taught their
children to be peaceful, and now pray
they come home safely from a war.

What makes a good mother anyway?

Is it patience?

Compassion?

Broad hips?

The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time?
Or is it in her heart?

Is it the ache she feels when she
watches her son or daughter disappear
down the street, walking to school alone
for the very first time?

The jolt that takes her from sleep to
dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put
her hand on the back of a sleeping baby?

The panic, years later, that comes again
at 2 A.M. when she just wants to hear
their key in the door and know they
are safe again in her home?

Or the need to flee from wherever she is
and hug her child when she hears news
of a fire, a car accident, a child dying?

The emotions of motherhood are
universal and so our thoughts are for
young mothers stumbling through diaper
changes and sleep deprivation...

And for mature mothers learning to let go.

For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.

Single mothers and married mothers.

Mothers with money, mothers without.

This is for you all. For all of us...

Hang in there.

In the end we can
only do the best we can.

Tell themevery day that we love them.

And pray

and never stop being a mother...

Third Trimester

By this week, baby weighs two and a quarter pounds (like a Chinese cabbage) and measures 14.8 inches from the top of her head to her heels. She can blink her eyes, which now sport lashes. With her eyesight developing, she may be able to see the light that filters in through my womb. She's also developing billions of neurons in her brain and adding more body fat in preparation for life in the outside world.

Pretty cool.

Saw the doctor yesterday and all is well. Passed the glucose screening (whew!) but have low hemoglobin so am recommended to take iron pills. This is nothing new for me so I have no concerns about that.
Gained 3 pounds this month coming to a total of 17 pounds over all. I will have to gain 24 more pounds to reach my pregnancy weight that I had with both girls. Interestingly enough I weighed the exact same at the end of both pregnancies. This is all together very possible - especially since I have no restrictions on my diet. Yippee!!
While doc was listening to the heartbeat baby girl gave the doppler a very firm kick. The doctor was impressed, even though we had to start all over.
Got my shot in my hynie for Rh and that was about it.

The other girls in my life are also doing very well. I have some pictures of them with Grandma Claire from her visit, but have to figure out how to get them here. Now that I am down a camera I am using the camcorder to take pictures.

Cecelia's class is taking a school bus to the Como Zoo on May 7th. She is SO excited!! I will be one of the chaperones so will get to go with her on her very first school bus ride. I'll probably cry or something stupid like that.

Delaney is practicing for her "terrible twos" and is quite the noisy thing. Lots of screaming and crying. What a pleasure for everyone. On the other hand, she has become quite the ham.
I'm not surprised by any of this, just going along for the ride.

Bill and I get a date on Saturday to attend a wedding so am really looking forward to that. More than likely I'll cry there too.
Our 5th anniversary is coming up so I am happy to attend a service to remind ourselves how this all started. Melts my heart.

I'm waiting for the warm-up and just trying to keep everyone happy until we get to exhaust ourselves in the warm summer air.

Any day now..................

Quote

"We love who we love whether we should or not, even though there are more suitable people to love."

I received this as an email and thought it was pretty interesting. I sent it to Bill to ponder today - mostly as tongue and cheek.
I feel that it is true in a lot of ways. I mean, I can certainly think of times I have loved someone despite the fact that I probably shouldn't.
I also think that we are more careful about choosing who is suitable as we get older and wiser.
Just food for thought.

A Couple Updates

Regarding the previous post, I don't know for sure (will see Doc on Monday), but am pretty sure I have spider veins as opposed to varicose veins.
After looking it all up on the internet I guess it is fairly common in pregnancy and they may even go away. We shall see.

And in regards to the post previous to that. I was not clear in letting you all know that that was an email sent to me. My name is not Charlotte. Sorry for the confusion.

On a lighter note, we have a weekend free of obligation (aside from Saturday night work). I am going through children's clothes and getting rid of some over-flow. I also will be donating about a million stuffed animals. I really don't know where they come from, but I have what seems to be an infestation of them.

Oh Gross!

All right, here it is.
There will absolutely be no pictures for this post, so don't even ask.
Last night when I got out of the shower I was looking at my totally wierd looking naked body in the mirror. Turning in every direction to see what was new I discovered what I thought were bruises on the backside of my leg and rear end. As I went in for a closer look (bad idea!) I realized that they were not bruises but clusters of popped varicose veins!!
I have been having more physical pain with this pregnancy, most recently in my hips, particularly in my right hip. These disgusting purple areas are only on my right leg.
I have no idea if there is some sort of correlation here, but I am pissed!
I will, no doubt, be obsessing over this now and be watching diligently to see if any more of these start to make an appearance on my legs. Let's hope not because it looks like something that probably doesn't go away.
Has anyone else had this happen????
Signed,
Too much information in the city.

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?' Obviously not; no one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this?

Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.'

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England . Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.' It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription:

'To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'

In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.'
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.

I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'You're gonna love it there.'

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

Grateful

A friend's blog opened my eyes yesterday.
There are two new links on here today and if you read them you will understand why my eyes have been opened and why I am grateful.
I have realized that I need to be more appreciative of the mundane and day to day lives of each and every one of us.
Thank you , God. Thank you, thank you , thank you.