Here's a little flashback to Biology 101: When in isolation, the cells of our hearts don't beat in sync with one another. One sings "Da Dum Da Dum" while another chimes "Dum Da Dum Da." But bring these cells together and they start to beat in rhythm with the others.
Love is beating all around us, all around the world.
We are walking cells of the heart.
Are we beating in sync with one another?
Is love universal?
Whether or not my love is in sync with your love is not important.
What is important is that love is there, beating, pounding, crashing against the inner walls of our bodies, and ricocheting out of us and into the universe.
Tonight my two-year-old pointed to a star during our walk and exclaimed, "There's Papa!"
"Yes, Sweetie," I said. "That's Papa. Papa is all around us."
Love crosses that gap between Earth and Heaven, between the tick of time and the band of eternity.
So my Valentine's List of Love this year stretches into a realm where time and space are dimensionless...
Love is...
1. remembering only happy memories.
2. talking to my father in the stars.
3. feeling my grandfather's hand on my hand many months after he passed away.
4. placing the palm of my hand on my belly in response to the phantom kicks.
5. watching my daughters run around while holding my heart in their hands.
6. forgiveness and compassion.
7. living in the flow of nature's energy and God's great spirit.
8. letting my father go peacefully even though inside I was shouting "Stay! Wake up! Don't go!"
9. creating a life only to learn it left this world before having a chance to be born and having the courage to create another life.
10. knowing what matters: the smiles, the cuddles, the caresses, the kisses, the everything that makes my family.
For in the end, love is... we are... all that matters is... family.
Thank you to Stasha's Monday Listicles for bringing me up to the surface to breathe. Some day I hope to come back to blogging to read more blogs, comment on more blogs, and write on my blog. But for now, these lists are all I can do.
We are lifted, in the small and big moments of life, by loved ones, strangers, even angels...
My husband lifted our 4 and 2 year old daughters into his arms on October 28th, 2011 after a seven month deployment.
I lifted my newborn girl into my arms for the first time on November 23rd, 2011.
An angel lifted my father to heaven on January 2nd, 2012.
And now, I have finally found the courage to sit in my writing chair and lift my fingers to begin writing this story...
My dad came to visit us in August. He taught my daughters how to play Candyland and Scrabble. He covered them with sand at the beach. He played "Tutti Frutti" (his version of Hide 'n Seek) with my daughters. I sat back, resting for the first time during the deployment, and felt my third daughter kicking inside of me, anxious to join in on the fun.
I imagined my daughters in the years to come, learning from my dad the way I learned from my grandfather.
But in the space of only three months an aggressive cancer took over my dad's body and an angel lifted him up to heaven.
I miss you, Dad.
You were lifted, Dad, up to heaven so shortly after my daughter's spirit was carried down to earth.
Our third daughter entered the world on a high note, literally.
Before the doctors could pull her entire body out, she pitched her first newborn cry and tears flooded my face.
"Tears of joy, right Mama?" my 4 year old daughter asks as I tell the story.
"Yes, Sweetie. Tears of joy."
I counted the days, and then the hours until my baby was old enough to fly to see my father.
He got to meet his fifth granddaughter. He even got to hold her for the first and last time.
My newborn baby girl is magical. One moment she looks like her oldest sister and then in the next moment she morphs into looking like her other sister. She is peaceful. She is gentle. And she is at the beginning of life.
I sat beside my father, holding my newborn girl, watching them both sleep.
They snored.
They had basic needs of food and sleep.
They cried.
They breathed.
They opened their eyes and listened.
They were at the ends of life, rather than in the middle of it like me.
One at the beginning.
One at the end.
Unlike my daughter's introduction to our world in a sterile, cold operating room, my father's departure of our world was in the warmth of his home, surrounded by my mom, my two sisters, my newborn girl and me.
We held his hands.
We touched his arms and legs.
And we wept as his spirit soared out of his body with his final breath and up into heaven.
The birth of my third daughter and the death of my father have altered me in many ways.
My heart expands and overflows with love, and yet it is clinched like a fist in pain and sorrow.
My mind tries to function to meet the needs of my three daughters, and yet it is foggy and spins on memories of the final moments of being with my dad.
My dad.
Who did calculus problems with me on napkins in restaurants.
Who coached my soccer, softball, and basketball teams.
Who took me on a walk when I got my period for the first time and told me how proud he was of the young woman I was becoming.
Who got on the floor and played with my daughters.
Who read to my high spirited daughter until she fell asleep on him.
Who held our hands and told us he loved us and he was ready to go.
I love you, Dad. I like to think you are reading over my shoulder right now as you used to do when I was typing an email and you came in to the room to talk with me.
I love you, Dad. Thank you for the amazing gift you gave me: a life full of love, joy, and endless possibilities.
I love you, Dad.
I believe the angel you saw was with you.
I believe you are with me now.
I believe one day I will see you again.
My newborn daughter is nestled on top of my chest as I type these words.
Her faint, cool, sweet breath eases in and out.
Her little hands rest under her chin.
I can't stop kissing her.
I am so happy!
And so I finally find myself able to write again with both hands, neither one going numb or in pain after only a minute of writing. My heart and mind are not into writing these days as they are completely enveloped in my family, the moments of being surrounded by love and giggles and kisses from all three of my daughters and husband.
But, for my dear daughter, I sit in my chair to write her birth story for some day she will see the video and hear stories, but I want her to also read these words to know how amazing her birth was and how miraculous her life is.
We were blessed with a healthy baby girl this late November. And while I sat in the cold, sterile operating room, waiting for the initial steps of the prep my mind went to the beautiful posts written for my blog. Before I left for the hospital I had the joy of reading them, and it meant the world to me to have so many wonderful words written to welcome my baby girl into the world.
So I'd like to thank each and every woman who wrote for my blog.
Thank you Stasha for sharing the beauty of life around the world and how it connects us all.
Thank you Kate for helping me to understand life with three and how each life is precious and unique.
Thank you Germaine for creating the sense of smell, the Parfum La Bebe, despite being done on the computer and in so doing, bringing life to the sterile operating room.
Thank you Abby and Angie for making my heart swell in anticipation for the first sound of my newborn baby crying; she actually cried before they had her entire body out of me!
Thank you Alison for such an incredibly written post that brought tears to my eyes; you shared with us an intimate moment in your life that all of us mothers understand and feel in each beat of the heart.
And I've enjoyed reading the comments left on everyone's post during the "birth week," so thank you for stopping by my blog and sharing your thoughts about the posts!
And now my mind is starting to turn its wheels and my fingers are starting to hum... I will begin to craft in words the birth of my baby girl, soon to be shared here on my blog!
I've been trying to imagine the initial days with my newborn daughter, and I recall memories of my first two girls. They slept all day and lived to breastfeed at night. In the darkness of my room, I took in their scents, their sounds, the touch of their fingers... I am so excited to experience this again.
As many of you know, Alison of Mama Wants This is a blogger with so much heart and soul. She truly gets it and writes about it. Her blog brings tears of joy to my face as well as tears from laughter. She is a gifted writer and thinker and inspires me as a woman and a mother.
So thank you Alison for writing a guest post for my blog today!
Scent of a Newborn
By Alison of Mama Wants This
The metallic smell of blood, when he was born.
My blood. Severe postpartum blood loss. Plummeting blood pressure. Midwives, calm but urgent. Drips, needles, drugs, quiet conversation, to save my life.
The familiar smell of tea and toast, my first meal in 30 hours.
Ravenous, I ate while my newborn slept peacefully, his father snapping pictures.
The assuring scent of lavender soap, my first shower after he was born.
Blood still streaming down my leg. My husband gently soaping me off. Washing my hair. Hot water pounding down on my tired body. A midwife keeping an eye on our 2-hour old son.
The distinct smell of a hospital, as I was finally wheeled from the delivery room to the maternity ward, 4 hours after our firstborn came wailing into the world.
A comfortable double bed. My things in my still unpacked diaper bag. My eyes are drooping, fatigue is taking over, but I'm desperate to hold my child, I need to nurse him.
The unfamiliar but gorgeous smell of his newborn skin, as he latched on and nursed.
I looked down at my son, my beautiful child. His eyes closed, his mouth making quiet sucking sounds, his cheeks full, his head full of black hair, his little fingers clutching mine, his tiny feet, oh-so-small.
This - this is the scent, the sight, the sounds I've been waiting for as a new mother. Finally.
No matter where I am or what I am doing, the sound of a newborn's cry stirs up an instinctual awareness inside of me that is unique and unlike any other stimulus. As the surgeons in the past operated on me in the OR I felt no pain but discomfort as clamps were used to pull layers apart. I felt no pain as the weight of my babies was tugged and pulled from me, just a strong pressure and then a release. And that is when it came: the sound of my newborn babies crying.
I look forward to the initial cry of my third daughter. I know I will start crying at the sound of her voice.
Sound is strong. It unites a common thread among us humans, no matter the language.
During my short time as a blogger I have come across two bloggers who speak a language that truly touches the depth of my heart. Abby of Abby Off the Record and Angie of Angie Mizzell have a way with words that makes it seem as if I am hearing them speak when I read their blogs.
So it is an honor today to have both of them here, together, as guests on my blog!
A Newborn Sound
Hi, Zook Book Nook readers! We’re Abby from AbbyOfftheRecord.com and Angie from AngieMizzell.com. We’re both writers and bloggers living 600 miles apart, and we bonded when we realized we were both living what seemed like parallel lives, raising two little boys. While Kim is off welcoming her new daughter into the world, we’re here to share our thoughts on…
The first sound my baby made…
Abby: You know how in almost every birth scene in almost every movie or TV show, the pregnant woman suddenly goes into labor, grunts and pushes a couple times, and out comes the baby before the next commercial break? And after that, the doctor always announces, “It’s a girl!” or “It’s a boy!” and on cue, the baby lets out a wail. Well, that didn’t happen to me.
What happened was, after way too many hours of labor and way too many medical personnel in my (very) personal space, my baby was born and I heard…nothing. The doctor whisked the baby away to get cleaned up, leaving us calling after him, “Um, hello? What did we have?”
“Oh,” said the doctor, startled. “It’s a boy. See?” And he held out the evidence to prove it. I don’t even remember the baby crying. I felt robbed of my Hollywood baby moment! Oh, well, he more than made up for it later.
Angie:
With both my boys, I was sufficiently numb (I’m pro epidural). I pushed for two hours with my first; the second popped out in five minutes. In both cases, I didn’t hear anything at first, either! I can only remember hearing everyone else making noise as the babies came out: the doctor, my husband, the nurse. With my first, I remember making eye contact and crying. With my second, I laughed and kept saying “Hi there! Hi, little guy!” But he wasn’t little at all. He was huge!
The funniest sound my baby made…
Abby: Everyone knows babies are supposed to coo. Everyone, apparently, except my baby. When my firstborn was very young, we took him to a museum with his grandparents. All throughout the exhibits, the baby kept letting out these growls and shouts that literally made people jump. I think he liked the way his voice echoed throughout the marble galleries. Everyone laughed when they saw the tiny source of all that racket. Even so, we were mortified.
Angie: It’s very alarming the first time you hear a newborn, um, take care of business. That’s all I’m going to say about that.
The scariest sound my baby made…
Abby: I wish someone had warned me about all those choking, gurgling noises newborns make. Those first few nights home from the hospital, I kept bolting upright in bed, flipping on the light and lunging for that bulb-suction thingy, convinced the baby was choking. I’m sure this gave my husband more than a few heart attacks.
Angie: Amen to that! But it wasn’t as scary with my second. I believe it was because he was a bigger baby and didn’t have reflux like my first. At night, when he slept, so did I. Which makes for a much saner Mommy.
The thing I didn’t realize was…
Abby: Babies are pretty noisy, even when they’re not crying. From the diaper explosions, as Angie pointed out, to all the gurgling and slurping and lip-smacking, they make lots of sounds! At some point, I decided that having the baby sleep in another room and turning the monitor to “voice-activated” only made for a much more restful night’s sleep for both of us.
Angie: Just because the baby is calm and easygoing (and very quiet) during the first two weeks doesn’t mean he or she will stay that way. This does not mean “he’s a good baby,” as all my relatives kept saying. It means the baby is still exhausted from birth! Just wait until they transition from “just emerged from the womb” to “Hello, world! Do you hear me?”
I also didn’t realize how the sound of my baby breathing on me when he was asleep on my shoulder would melt me into a puddle of goo. It’s the sweetest sound in the world.
My first two daughters were born in the up most sterile environments possible: the surgical room.
Prior to becoming a mother, I imagined warm scents of candles and fresh scents of flowers in a cocoon of a hospital room where I would give birth naturally. Instead, on the their birth days I inhaled the bleach of a freshly scrubbed floor, the rubbery plastic of latex gloves, and the disinfectant soup that cloaked my body from the hospital shower.
Today is my due date; however, I write this in advance of this important day as I prepare myself for a third c-section. Despite the non-welcoming smells of the operating room, I anticipate the most incredible smell of life: that of my newborn baby held against my chest for the first time.
It is an honor today on this special day to host my blogging friend Germaine of Kiddothings here on my blog as she took on the challenge of the sense of smell for this newborn series, and what an amazing job she did with it!
Thank you Germaine for making my due date easier for me as I will be thinking of this post and all of the wonders of newborn smells as I welcome my baby girl into the world!
Today is Kim’s due date. She is going to be a new mother again the third time around. And to celebrate Motherhood for the third time, she’s starting a Newborn Series this week. I am so honoured to be here today to help her welcome her little one into our world.
Since it’s also Picnesday today, Kim is co-hosting Picnesday with me. To those who have dropped by from my blog, thank you and stay a while to get to know Kim and Zook Book Nook. She’s a wonderful writer and a very supportive bloggy friend.
As I write this, I’m reminded of the early days when my kids were newborns. As I sifted through my picture archives to do this post, I felt a tug at my heartstrings. I felt my eyes sting with tears. For I miss my babies. And today, I’m given the opportunity by Kim to also celebrate my ‘newborns’. Kim has asked me to do a take on ‘Newborn Smell’.
So here, I am going to share with you what goes into making Parfum Le Bebe - a perfume that makes a mother fall in love with her baby instantly.
A whiff of soft baby fuzz
The peacefulness of a baby sleeping
The tenderness of a baby’s grip
The wonder in a baby’s gaze
The sweetness of a baby’s first smile
Having your baby lay down on your chest,
feeling his heart beat against yours
Taking in that magical feeling of being so close to a miracle that is
Your baby.
And that my friends is Parfum Le Bebe,
The Scent of Life.
Thank you Germaine!
I have tears in my eyes as I read this and look at these breathtaking photos again! My world will soon be full of the Scent of Life!
