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Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Meet Me Under the Mistletoe

 

“Where is the perfect spot for the mistletoe this year?” I say aloud as I find a place in the kitchen to display it. My seven-year-old daughter sees me hanging it up and says, “Ew, gross!”

Then a while later she says, “Mom, come here I need help.” As I walk over to see what she needs she gives me a sweet little unexpected mistletoe kiss.
Most times she acts like she accidentally stepped under it and just realized she made the biggest mistake ever. So I have to quickly grab her and kiss her as she giggles and pretends to wiggle away.
I love having the mistletoe hanging in my house at Christmas time!
 Not that I need an excuse to kiss my hubby or our children, but I like having it for the silly moments, like when the girls step under it unexpectedly, and I get to grab them and give them a big ol' smooch before they back away.
“Why do you have kissing pictures and stuff in the house?” Our youngest asks.
“Because we love each other,” I say.
Each time my husband and I get caught showing any type of affection, she makes a face and loudly says, “ew!”
I used to moan and groan each time my parents showed affection in front of me, but secretly I didn’t mind. It felt good to see our parents in love, happy and passionate about each other.
“Would you rather have us fighting instead, because I’m sure we can find something to argue about?” I tease her.
“Yeah,” she says as she walks away.
Then a few minutes later I hear a call from the kitchen, “Mom, come here. I need help with something…”
 
MERRY KISSMAS to YOU & YOURS

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Let us be Grateful





May we be filled with peace and love today.
May we understand that today is good.
Yes, it could be better.
Yes, it could be worse.
However we choose to feel
about this particular day,
Let us recognize that it is ours.
To do with it as we please.
To hug our children.
To love our spouses.
To smile at strangers in passing.

May we trust in God's plan.
Let us not be burdened by our daily struggles.
Let us not attempt to change the things we cannot,
but focus on the things we can.
May we simply...live.
Completing our every day chores
with a happy heart.
Loving.
Learning.
Praying.
Enjoying.

May His presence surround us.
May our souls be blessed, cleansed,
renewed, free.
May we be grateful today and every day.


Delia Akao

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Unexpected Tears

My hubby had worked all day and I had a party to attend, so we planned to meet each other at home afterwards for a nice relaxing evening for two. I had the idea to stop at the grocery store on my way home and pick up some premade chicken and his favorite sourdough bread. I threw in some chocolate for dessert, (of course;) but when I got home, I was surprised.

I found out that he had stopped at the store as well. I walked in around 7:00pm to find flowers on the counter, a letter and more chocolate. We surprised each other. We had dinner, watched a comedy and played a few games of Yahtzee. It was a nice, relaxing night, filled with affection and laughter.

Then it happened. Tears. Unexpected tears.

My husband was shocked, wondering, what the heck just happened?

Well, a woman’s hormones, that, is what! Poor him...I know!

Suddenly, the quiet house affected me. Some parents long for that, I hear it often. “Ooh, an alone night. Aren’t you lucky? I wish I had a break now and then.” I smile and say, “Yes. It’s going to be nice,” but silently, I think that they are the lucky ones.

Partly because with a divorce, the pain of being away from your kids for several days at a time, actually stinks. The other part is that I want more kids. I always have.

When I hear about other pregnancies and newborns, I am happy for the families, but I would be fibbing if I said it did not hurt. I think about how it would be if my last pregnancy had made it, I would have a chubby little pink cheeked baby sitting in my lap at this very moment.

One minute I think that I am okay. After four miscarriages, I say, forget it. I tell my hubby and everyone that asks that I am done trying. After all, if it were meant to be, wouldn’t it have happened by now? I tell myself that God has other plans for me.

I have had several D&C’s, several trips to the hospital, lots of cramps, many bills and way too many tears. I have had weight gain as a result of the hormones that would wake me up at 3:00 in the morning, because I was hungry, but no baby to show for it.

I have had pain.

I remember the excitement I felt when the pregnancy stick was positive.

I remember the disappointment I felt after the blood loss and cramping told me, "false alarm, no baby this time." I remember the 3-month check up that went really well. So well in fact, that we went to Babies R Us to sit in rockers, look at cribs, and push a few strollers around.

I remember talking about baby names, wondering what color the baby’s hair and eyes would be, and posting pictures of fruit on the fridge for the kids that showed what size our baby “was.”

I remember the tears that followed the miscarriages, and the tears that I cried when the nurses and doctors checked my blood pressure, poked me with needles and wheeled me into the next room.

I remember waking up on a hospital gurney feeling…empty.

Four miscarriages. Four babies. Almost.

What kind of person in their right mind would want to go through all of that again? Not me, I say, but then it happens. The overflow of emotions that mean, maybe I would…maybe I should…

I've had four miscarriages, but I have also had one baby.

I do know what it is like to have a beautiful little baby sitting on my lap as I feed her. I remember waking up in the middle of the night to watch my daughter sleep and to make sure she was breathing. I remember her smell, her skin, her pink cradle cap comb, her first smile, her cry and the orange sherbet colored onesy that I loved to put her in.

A baby would make all of the tears worth it. Then I think, what if. What if we try again, and it results in another baby. Almost.

I am not sure if we will try again. All I know is that sometimes, when I least expect it, it hurts.