More 6 Weeks Old

Ya'll readers might get bored with all of these photos but since blurb.com is working for blogger again, I am liking just uploading extra photos for posts here so I don't forget to add them into my book later. Here are some more photos of my little curmudgeon. I don't know what that is but it is one of the names that my dad calls little kids or animals. He's cool like that.I had to find out the official meaning of curmudgeon and here it is:1archaic : miser2: a crusty, ill-tempered, and usually old man

That is totally my dad--calling a little baby a curmudgeon.

Brothers

Before we decided to adopt Loumy we were in the process of adopting our first son, Isaiah Christian, when he passed away. It was extremely difficult for me. Because the birth mother had completely relinquished her rights and according to the Haitian courts he was ours, I have always felt that he was my son and we were able to perform a sacred church ceremony to have him a part of our forever family. I do not talk about Isaiah very often because my feelings and the experiences I have had surrounding this first son of mine are very sacred to me. But just because I never talk about him does not mean he is ever far from my thoughts. I have felt his presence with me often. I believe that he is very noble and that he came to our family and needed to be sealed to us for a purpose. When he is near me, I draw strength from him and feel loved. I have no doubt that he is my son. Never does anybody ask how many children we have or say, "Perfect, now you have 2 boys and 2 girls" with out me thinking of Isaiah. But I don't say anything. I don't feel the need to remind or tell anybody else about this first son. I hold him in my heart and prefer to keep him safe there.

Anywho...that is the background for the fact that I wanted to share how much Loumy loves his brothers. I never bring up Isaiah but he and Deedle, especially, think of him and talk about him all of the time. I answer their questions candidly but do not egg on the conversation. But ever since Finn entered his life, Loumy has been very interested in knowing BOTH of his brothers. And I think that knowing about Isaiah has been and will be very therapeutic for him. Loumy knows that Isaiah was also born in Haiti and that he also grew in another woman's tummy. He knows that Isaiah was in his same orphanage and he insists that they were "friends" when they were babies, even though their time in the orphanage would have only overlapped for about a month while Loumy was an infant. But what do I know? In fact, I wrote this post yesterday and then last night while I was out for a walk I was thinking about it and the thought came to me that most likely Isaiah was with Loumy for his entire stay at the orphanage. After all, my constant prayer was that he would be surrounded by angels. When this thought came to me, I suddenly burst out laughing like, "duh, of course!" Luckily nobody was around to hear the crazy girl laughing by herself on the street.

Loumy has never seen a photo of Isaiah but yesterday he was looking at some photos on our fridge and turned to me and said, "Mom, my brother Isaiah has brown skin like me, right?" It seemed to mean so much to him to know that somebody else in our family had so many things in common with him. Then he said, "I wish I could see a picture of him..." So, when I finished up dinner I told him to come with me and I got out my photo of Isaiah to show him. "This is your brother," I said and his eyes lit up. He stared at it for a very long time. He then made me promise that I would make a copy of the photo that he could have for his very own to keep in a special place.Loumy's life seems to be more content and full just knowing that he has brothers. He loves to hold Finn. He loves to kiss his head and is very gentle around him. He will talk to him in a very soft voice and will constantly laugh at the faces Finn makes or the way he moves his hands or the sounds he makes. He loves to tell me about all the things he is going to teach Finn one day. Here are some of the things he has mentioned that he will teach him: "how to be nice, how to play 'boy stuff', how to get dressed by himself, what 1 + 1 is, about Star Wars, and he will be Obe Wan or Anakin and I'm going to be Mace Windu, and teach how to give treats to people, when I know how to read I'll teach him how to read, how to zip, how to do things in Star Wars games, how to use a light sabre."

Here are some of my favorite photos of the brothers from our shoot with Amy last week.

Six Weeks Old

We did a photo shoot with my sister, Amy. She is fantastic. I will be uploading lots of photos from it soon, but for now I just had to share this one.

Crying over Spilled Milk

I know there is no use. But still...The other night two of my beautiful nieces came over to watch The No. 1 Lady's Detective Agency with me. If you like the books you will love the new HBO series. We had a fabulous time. I made muddy buddies and brought down full glasses of milk. The moment I did it, I knew it was a mistake. We don't have a coffee table or any such thing to set milk on. I knew that milk was going to be spilled. And sure enough, it was. I quickly sponged it up with a towel and then sprayed some cleaner on it, then we went on with our show. Bad choice. Why oh why didn't I immediately get out the carpet steam cleaner???

Yesterday I came down to my lovely new basement with the new carpet that smells so clean and new...and I had to cry. Over spilled milk. The whole basement smells putrid. I first tried cleaning it again then steam cleaning. No go. I tried scrubbing with Odoban and then steam cleaning the Odoban out. No go. The smell isn't as horrible as it was but it does still stink bad.

Somebody reading this blog has to have had a bad milk/carpet experience before. Please help me!!! Online I read to try vinegar or baking soda. We're out of baking soda so I'll have to go buy some tomorrow. I don't really think vinegar smells much better than rotten milk, but maybe it will work. Any suggestions my dear, wise friends?

His Enemy, His Friend

In 10th grade we read a book by that name. It was good. But I always think of it in reference to my two middle children. Boy, those two can be best friends and worst enemies at least 6 times in 30 seconds.

This morning Chancho called me after dropping Deedle and Loumy off at preschool for me. He wanted to tell me about their conversation. It was about their careers and I don't know how it started.

Deedle: I'm going to have my own candy shop.
Loumy: I'm going to have my own candy shop, too.
Deedle: No you're not, you're going to work for me in my candy shop.
Loumy: Oh yeah. I'm going to be the one to hand out the candy.
Deedle: No you're not, the candy has to be on the shelves and the people get it off the shelves to buy it.
Loumy: Well, I'm still going to make other things. I'm going to be a goggle maker (this is something he has insisted on for quite some time), a shoe maker, and a surf board maker.
Deedle: Yeah, I'm going to have other jobs too. I'm going to have my own candy shop and I'm going to wash small books and be a dancer.

These two might play school together for 3 hours straight, very happily. And then within 10 seconds they will be screaming so angrily that they will both be sent to timeout. They don't agree on much. In fact, Deedle makes it hard to agree with much because she disagrees with almost anything anybody says. But yesterday I took them to the park for a little while and watched as Deedle pushed Loumy on the swings for quite some time, then he went over to the bars and tried to jump to the highest one but couldn't reach so Deedle came over and lifted him up. Of course he weighs more than she does and she only got him about 4 inches off the ground so he still couldn't reach, but it made me all happy that she was watching out for her "little" brother.

One thing that both of these kids agreed on was the present they got from their preschool teacher for Easter. They literally thought this was the most hilarious and coollest and best gift in the entire world. The laughed for about 6 hours straight--literally. Although it is totally disgusting, if you ever want a good party favor to give to preschoolers, this is it.

Newborns and Other Stuff...

Last week my nephew wrote a family letter and he talked about how glad he was to be a man because of some of the difficult women he has been dealing with recently. My sister-in-law wrote a response to him on her blog about why she loves to be a woman. Then my niece made a comment about the importance of being a woman and especially being a mother and she asked this question that has really stuck with me. She wondered about how we sometimes talk about the struggles of motherhood and the impressions we are giving to others. She asked, "Are we showing other future mothers around us that we are HAPPY doing this? Do we make it look like something that they should desire with all their hearts? Or do we belittle our role and make it seem like drudgery?"

That really struck me and I've been thinking about it a lot. Sure, there are a lot of things about motherhood and womanhood that are downright hard. But I don't know of anything in life that makes us better, stronger, wiser individuals that doesn't involve a lot of effort and struggling. I am glad for all of the family members and friends I have who know what much of my life is like and allow me the opportunity to vent, validate my feelings, and feel understood. But am I making sure that they and any others around me know that I feel so lucky and immensely blessed to be a woman, a wife, and a mother?

As if in response to this, I had an experience with another niece just a day later. I took Finn with me over to my parents house and met my niece, Allie, there. She is 16 and so beautiful! She is also 100% fiesty. She wanted me to braid her hair for a dance the following day and my sister Meg and a bunch of nieces were meeting to play some games so I thought I could braid and laugh with the gamers at the same time. Here is Allie pictured with my other gorgeous niece, Jasmine.I had Finn in another room in his carseat where he could just sleep and not have germs breathed on him. I asked my sister to check on him and when she came back she said he was sleeping soundly. I then, sarcastically said, "Oh that is perfect. If he sleeps really well now maybe I'll be lucky enough to have him up all night again."

Allie said, "Gosh, you guys make me never want to have a newborn! You make it sound so horrible. I am never going to have a baby, I will just adopt a kid when its like 3 years old."

I was mortified. Of course, not about her wanting to adopt a 3 year old. First of all, Allie is adopted herself. She and two of her siblings were adopted as infants but her youngest sister was adopted at age 3. Adoption of a 3 year old is a fabulous thing but I don't know a single adoptive mother of an older child who wouldn't give their right arm to have had the opportunity to be the one rocking their child as a newborn. What mortified me is that I had just been thinking about how important it was that I make a positive impression on other young women about motherhood and then the next day I say something stupid and my niece says that I make having a newborn sound horrible! I immediately tried to correct her. I know that she knew my comment was a joke. We were doing a lot of joking around the table (mostly at Meg's expense--sorry!). But it upset me that my comment and whatever else the rest of the mothers at the table had said gave Allie the impression that we would rather not have to deal with a newborn.

So, I decided I better write down here for Allie (and those of you still reading) why having a newborn is so super wicked cool sick awesome or whatever else a 16 year old would say to mean THE BEST EVER!!!

Instead of making it general, I will also make this a little journal entry about baby Finn and why having him is the best ever.

Taking care of a newborn can be hard. They depend on you for everything to be able to exist in life. They have to eat and be changed often. They sleep a lot but it is on their time table, not yours. Sometimes you can feel trapped because your life is suddenly so changed and you can't do all of the things you did before. But these things are all for our good. When we are serving others with all of our hearts, we love them. That is a wonderful principle I learned long ago. I believe this is one of the main reasons that babies are born so helpless and needing so much service--to give us the opportunity to give it and grow in love. When you first hold your newborn in your arms, you feel an immense love come to you. But it is amazing that as time goes on you just fall more and more in love with them!

The night before Finn came home I could not sleep. I was so excited--pretty much the same feeling of the night before Christmas mixed in with the night before my wedding--the anticipation of receiving such an exciting gift and also getting to be with somebody that I am madly in love with for the rest of my life. Of course the love I have for my newborn is not the same as I have for my husband, but one day after I was headed up to the hospital after dropping off my other kids to be babysat with my sister Nancy, I suddenly realized, "I am in love with my baby!" The butterflies in my stomach and the excited, anxious, ache in my heart as I drove to the hospital to hold my baby were some of the same feelings I felt when I was dating Chancho and would be driving to his house to see him.

Anyway, I would drift off for a moment, then would wake up again and was pleasantly surprised to feel the same joy still just floating around in my head and my heart as I waited until the hour I could wake up and go get my baby. A newborn brings so much love with it. So recently removed from heaven, Finn just emits a strong energy of love. I can only imagine that the same joy and peace that I feel when I hold my sweet little one on my chest must be what it will feel like to be able to be near my Savior someday. Maybe the Lord allows us to feel this kind of sweet peace to remind us what we are missing and need to get back to.

Finn is so beautiful. I can't stand to be away from him for long. And I realize how quickly this stage goes by now so I am not rushing anything. Look at the difference between cousins Israel (3 months) and Finn (1 month). They didn't weigh the same at birth, but still, they grow SO fast!!!I am so happy just to hold Finn. I am tired when he has a rough night, but its okay. When I fall asleep on my side with him in the crook of my arm, I wake up and look at him and am truly filled with amazement that the Lord gave me such an amazing blessing.

Finn makes the most awesome little sounds. I can count on one hand how many times I have heard him cry. He just doesn't. He didn't like his Hep B shot and cried for a second. He didn't like it when they pulled the tape off his fuzz covered leg before he came home. He just whimpers, grunts or whinnies. Yes, that is whinny, as in the sound a horse makes. We laugh that Finn sounds like a baby horse at times. But he also makes other sounds. Sometimes after a feeding when he is really worn out, he will rest his head back and just breathe with these small little mewing sounds. Or, to explain it better, it sounds like he is softly blowing on a harmonica when he exhales.

I love that he already recognizes my voice and my scent. He will be lying perfectly still next to me and if I move away, he seems to sense a disruption in the force and will begin to squirm in protest.

I love the involuntary movements of little hands and arms and legs. Fingers splayed, he will raise his arm to the sky and just hold it there. He might accidentally poke himself in the eye. If I put my finger in his little palm, he will clutch it. Watching his body develop and move with out him yet knowing how to control it at all is the cutest thing.

I love when Finn stares at me with his deep gray eyes (will they go blue or brown? don't know yet). It is so obvious that the spirit behind these eyes is old and wise, saved thousands of years to come and receive this little tiny body in this day. Sometimes he looks off somewhere with such intensity that I can't help but wonder what or who he is seeing. Sometimes a little voice will say to me, "The veil is so thin for him still, you know he is seeing much more than you can see." He will stare deep into my eyes with complete trust and love as if asking me, "Will you always remember me this way? Will you give me all you promised to give to help me accomplaish my work on this earth? We waited for this moment for millenia. And now we are here. We will do it. You are my mother and I trust you. I have faith in you."

Allie, I am so sorry that I somehow gave you the impression that having a newborn is anything other than an amazing blessing. If, when the time comes, you adopt a 3 year old instead of having a newborn, I will be thrilled. You know how much adoption means to me and how much I support it. But trust me when I tell you that you will mourn the fact that for whatever reason, it did not work out that you got to mother your child as a newborn. It may be all for the best. The Lord has a plan for all of us, for our families, how and when we find each other. But you certainly won't be glad that you missed out on your baby!

HAPPY EASTER!!!

We had the best Easter!

Thank you SO much for your prayers! I am overjoyed and full of relief and peace!

Bittersweet April Conference

Twice per year our church holds a worldwide, general conference so that we can hear our leaders speak to us. The meetings are held on Saturday and Sunday in April and October. Thousands gather to the actual meeting place in Salt Lake City, but the majority of members can't get seats so they are broadcast on local television through out Utah and are also translated and broadcast at meeting houses through out the entire world so all members can participate. Growing up, I always loved conference weekend. For one thing, I didn't have to "go" to church. I could just roll out of bed and wander in my pjs into the living room to watch church on TV. As I got older, I loved it more and more. Conference weekend meant receiving spiritual upliftment, spending time with family, a change of seasons, good food, and other comforting things. And it still usually means those things to me, but this is the second year now, where the memories of April conference, in particular, will hold other very special, bittersweet memories.

In April of 2005 I was visiting my 6 month old son in Haiti. I went only with the adoption coordinator for the orphanage and I slept on the balcony under a mosquito net with Loumy. The trip fell over April conference weekend. I didn't get to hear any of the Saturday meetings but on Sunday the orphanage director took me to the "Centrale" chapel in Port-au-Prince so that I could watch conference. I will never forget the sweet memories I made that day.

I smiled as I dressed Loumy in some khaki shorts and a little button-down shirt which I thought would be appropriate church attire. They were only 3 month size clothing, but they still drowned him.I smiled at how often I was told by the Haitians that Loumy looks just like me. Many Haitians are much darker-skinned than Loumy (especially at that age when he was malnourished, he was much fairer than now), so it is conceivable that he could be the biological offspring of me and a dark-skinned Haitian.

I smiled at how every single person over the age of 16 at the church knew my Haitian friend, Isson, in Utah. And most said, "Oh, he is my best friend!" These guys were some who asked me to take their photo to show Isson.

I smiled when I saw Isson's father, Termilhomme, with skin as wrinkled and dark as a burnt brownie, blush with pride when we heard his son's voice being broadcast all the way from Salt Lake City to our church there in Port-au-Prince as he translated the talks into Kreyol.

I smiled peacefully as I rested on the wooden benches in the chapel with Loumy quietly sleeping on my chest, waiting for my ride to take me back to the orphanage.

And of course all of that is offset somewhat with the bitterness associated with returning to an orphanage where the next morning I would pack my suitcases and put them into a van, then would hand my tiny little son to a nanny and would stare at him as his eyes widened with question and surprise, but then fear as he started to reach and scream for me. And I would get into the van and watch him staring incredulously after me as I bumped and jostled down the dirt road towards the airport, with no idea when I would be seeing my son again or if he would even survive the parasites in his belly and the other diseases lurking around every corner until I could return for him.Each April conference since then, I have hugged Loumy a little tighter and kissed him good night a little longer, so grateful that he made it safely home to us and spent that conference with the whole family.

Today was another April conference that I will always remember.

I will smile when I think about my tiny baby Finn, holding my finger and suckling at my breast in the NICU. I was so happy and proud that he ate an entire feeding and gained another couple of ounces. I will look at the onesie he wore today and will marvel that he actually ever fit into something so small. I will also remember a somewhat bitter feeling at the memory of rocking him in the chair and not daring to leave him yet as I would glance nervously from his face to the monitor and back again. I will remember patting him on the back and whispering, "You can't stop breathing like that. Breathing is not optional. I know you are tired and I'm so proud of you for working so hard to eat this past 24 hours, but you still have to breathe afterwards, even if you are exhausted." And I will feel a sadness pass over me as I remember putting him back in his bassinet and having to leave him again.

Next April conference, I sure hope to not be visiting any of my babies, but I hope to have them living with me! Hopefully I will remember to say less things like, "Stop being so noisy, we're trying to listen!" but rather will kiss them longer and hug them tighter because some past April conferences have been awfully bittersweet.