Rekindling in Richmond

Posted on October 3, 2012 by zeefamilymom

We had ourselves a long overdue getaway — just Zee Momma and Zee Daddy for two days with nothing to worry about other than not getting lost and not getting mugged.

It’s easy to get caught up in everything — therapy sessions, work schedules, feedings and household chores. It’s easy to get caught up in all of the million little things taking up every second of your marriage before you realize you have forgotten about your foundation — about the love you have for one another and the thousands and millions of little things you love about that person.

We hit that point. Where we took each other for granted and we didn’t appreciate those little things anymore.

So in honor of our third wedding anniversary, we decided to find a hotel in my resort’s company in a city neither of us have spent time in within driving distance for a mini-vacation. We were set up with a room in Richmond, complete with champagne and strawberries upon arrival and set out for 38 hours of things we never get to do — sleeping in, eating out alone, dressing up for dinner and going places you can’t typically bring two babies to, at least not if you’re even partially sane.

So we took turns choosing activities (you should have heard Scott’s groan when I chose botanical gardens!) and we didn’t plan too far ahead. And we had to follow certain rules — like holding the other person’s hand really firmly every chance we had.

Somewhere between singing twangy country duets in the car, getting stuck in traffic halfway up the entryway to I-95 and crashing onto a king-sized bed with a huge sigh, it started to show up — that love we used to wrap around ourselves like a blanket. Then somewhere between the botanical gardens sigh and the admission under a rose-covered gazebo that maybe this wasn’t so bad, it really began to come out in full force. In that gazebo in front of a Victorian house, we had one of the best conversations we’ve had in months.

And from Scott’s choice of mini-golf (“C’mon, we can never do this!”) and my giving in with a shake of my head because only my husband would choose mini-golf for his wishlist; somewhere between there and a huge, delicious meal in a dimly-lit private room, there I found my laughter. The insane belly laughs Scott could bring out in me a thousand times a day that recently had been stifled by frustration and annoyance.

I laughed so much those two days and neither one of us have stopped laughing since we returned. The old spark, the old flame even, well you better believe it’s back.

Scott and I have been through so much in just a handful of years — we’ve relocated, we’ve each switched jobs, we’ve had two babies, learned about special needs and found many more gray hairs.

It’s not to say that we resent our kiddos or the time it takes to raise them just the way it takes to become successful, responsible adults. We talked about them a lot over our vacation — imagining Zack running around a pond and spotting a turtle we were feeding; Addie’s blue eyes widening in the hustle and bustle of the downtown noise.

The kids were never far from our minds.
In fact, one of the most amazing moments of our trip came when we were exploring the lobby of our hotel while waiting for our car to be retrieved. We walked by this display of children’s faces at least three times before we were both caught off guard by a handsome little toddler with big eyes and big cheeks like Zack’s — eyes that were clearly kissed by Down Syndrome. There was a quote about the boy being called a flirt by his parents and we both laughed about our own little two-year-old flirt at home.

And then we realize that it was an entire series of photos of children who each had Down Syndrome, put up just that week by the local DS Chapter. Each child had quotes talking about what they loved to do, what their parents thought they were capable of, what their future held in store for them.

I didn’t think Scott could peel himself away from those photos. And for perhaps the first time in our relationship, he asked me to take a picture with my camera. It was beautiful.

We used to take weekend drives or day trips all the time; it was where I really fell in love with photography and my husband’s Human Atlas-like skills. It was nice to get back to that feeling of a great adventure, an adventure whose ending you don’t quite know at the start of the trip, the left turn out of the end of the driveway.

Sometimes you just have to shrug your shoulders, pack your bags, tell your wife they can’t bring the babies, not even just one baby, and have faith in the tank of gas, the GPS and the hotel reservation and leave the rest up to fate. Sometimes you have to just start out on an adventure to remind you of all of the adventures, good and bad, you’ve had in your journey so far. Sometimes you just have to do it. As long as you hold the other person’s hand.

Don’t let go.

Letting it be and catching up

Posted on September 19, 2012 by zeefamilymom

The older I get and the more life experience I have under my figurative belt, the more I learn that my biggest fault may just be how hard it is for me to just let it go.

If I don’t get home on time from work, I have a very understanding husband at home who appreciates my hard work and time away from my family.

If I think a negative thought regarding Zack’s Down Syndrome, I’m human, not a monster.

When Addie got her first boo-boo on my watch, it’s so wonderful that her Momma gets to kiss it better.

I’m working on it. I went through a few weeks recently where I took everything more to heart than I should have; allowed little things to bother me as if they were the end of the world.

So I repeat to myself every time I feel the urge to blame myself for poverty, hunger and civil wars… Let it be, let it be, let it be…

* * *

In the days before their wedding, our dear friends Ryan and Ruby asked me to fill in as a photographer on their big day when their hired help left them stranded. I was honored that they thought my photography skills worthy of some of the most special moments in their lives together, but I was also incredibly nervous and unsure of my abilities.

But, alas, a “let it be” or two and there I was, early for the first time in my life, testing outdoor lighting, admiring brick pillars and wood walls and the love between a really lovely group of people.

Ruby has been more than patient with me as I wait for my final package to arrive so that I can present it to them, hopefully next week, and so I was hesitant to share too many photos, but what the heck… Let it be.

I was able to capture some of the pre-ceremony moments between Ryan and his groomsmen (including my handsome hubby) and also some of Ryan’s family. The laughs shared between friends, the doting look in his parents’ eyes, the immense pride that was at this location… it gave me a sort of adrenaline high that I can’t explain.

And then, perhaps my favorite moment of the day: Ruby really wanted a photo with Ryan before the ceremony, but didn’t want them to see one another. We had only a moment or two, as we were already running late (tee-hee!), but we perched each of the newlyweds-to-be on one side of a large brick pillar outside of the reception room. The early evening light was streaming in the glass doors behind them and there, as I clicked away and played with settings, Ryan and Ruby grabbed each other’s hands and both smiled simultaneously. It was as if they had each found their peace. It reminded me of the love and peach I’ve found with Scott every time our hands meet. And then, I felt almost as if I was intruding as Ruby started praying, in a low voice that only Ryan and myself could really hear. It was so sweet and moved me so much that I decided I had captured the shot and put my camera down. I had to hold back tears.

It was a fun evening — a little edge, a little rock ‘n’ roll, some s’mores and so many laughs and memorable moments, most of which I think we’ll just keep to ourselves.

* * *

There’s a new baby in town.

Our friends Reva and Bret (parents of Zack’s friend Owen) welcomed their baby girl, Ella, into the world just a few weeks ago.

Ella’s a tiny lil round thing, especially compared to her big brother who was large and in charge from the day he was born. She looked a lot like Owen did when he was a newborn, but on my second visit with them the other day I saw a lot of her own unique looks coming out more, and some of her Mommy and Daddy, too.

Reva and Bret seem to be adjusting to two kids really well now and as much as I love seeing Reva with her little girl, there’s nothing quite like a big brother doting on his little sister. (I know this from personal experience)

We’re already hoping Ella and Addie are friends when they get a bit older — Girl Power! Of course, that all depends on Addie keeping her paws off of other girls’ headbands.

And more adrenaline rushes to come — Reva asked me if I would take photos of Ella and then of their family in about two weeks. Hooray! I’m so excited to capture more exciting life moments for people I adore so, so much.

* * *

September is going to turn out to be Wendy and Scott Bring the Love Back Month. Not that things were absolutely horrible, but rather we just haven’t been putting each other first. I never wanted to be that Readers Digest article, but yes indeed it is hard to keep your relationship first when you have time-sucking jobs, therapies, two kids, five animals and a mortgage payment.

We started the month off with our Date Night at Ryan and Ruby’s wedding. It was our first overnight time away from the kids, EVER. We have never, ever taken that much time away from them. And that will only be the record until next week when we visit Richmond for two days for our anniversary. And later that week, our friend Ben’s wedding.

We are both trying to do more thoughtful things for the other person — you know, those sweet little gestures you do when you’re first together. I do dishes, Scott buys me M&Ms… mmm, life and love is good.

We also watched the movie Fireproof together the other day, which was recommended to us by Ryan and Ruby themselves several years ago (life really does come full circle, I tell ya). We’re also reading a chapter from the accompanying book, The Love Dare, each day, too. It encourages us to be more proactive about being thoughtful, selfless, polite, calm, etc. You know, the old Love is Patient, Love is Kind… one day at a time.

At our wedding, we even played one of the songs from Fireproof as a peaceful, reflective moment during our ceremony.

Love is not a fight, but it’s something worth fighting for…

* * *

And our babies, oh our sweet babies.
I know nothing is as cute as a photo of them or stories about them, so enough about all this serious stuff!

They’re doing amazing.
Addie just turned four months old yesterday. She’s rolling back and forth, stomach to back and back to stomach and holds her head up all the time. She tried cereal for the first time yesterday and the jury’s still out on it. Her hair is getting longer and crazier; it skims her eyebrows in the front and the girl’s got sideburns that can rival Elvis’. She wakes up happy and smiling, grabbing for her pants or sleep sack and reaching as high as her thin, long arms can reach.

I’m still searching for the perfect ratio and balance, but I think I’m getting pretty close.

She loves her brother, I’m certain of it. When he comes nearby her, no matter her mood or location, she twists and turns her body to get him in her sight, a huge smile framing her face. She even puts up with the few stray trucks that find their way to her poor head and the way he practically sits on her, just eating up her personal bubble.

And Zack checks up on her pretty frequently. He still calls her “Ad-da” and comes to her rescue anytime she starts crying or anytime someone is holding her. He seems very protective of her now and hardly pokes her in the eyes at all.

Zack’s doing so, so well. His physical therapist, Miss Kathleen, was just here and confirmed that he has officially reached her two-year-goal of rolling, crawling, sitting, standing, walking to play. He’s half-running now, really. He understands how to get to the car and will walk there while holding my hand on our way to a playdate. He climbs up the stairs while holding on to the wall and understands directions like “go to Zack’s seat” at mealtimes. He babbles quite often and we’re able to pick up on a few words here and there. He proclaims Da-Da so proudly and excitedly. He’s a little Daddy’s boy and I’m alright with that; it’s beautiful to see Scott’s love for his son. Zack is swinging bats and walking while throwing balls, making baskets and reading books. He’s feeding himself using a fork or a spoon and has some groovy dance moves (he gets those from him Momma). He climbs on everything — like the dining room table last night (Don’t worry, we got a picture!).

No matter what happens with all of these photography opportunities (Nicole says I’ve caught the photography bug), my favorite subjects are still the blue-eyed loves I come home to every night.

So I’m letting it be, and sometimes that means not forcing myself to write a blog entry and not always publishing the ones I do write.

Letting it be is whatever works for you, whatever brings you your peace.

Back to work

Posted on August 16, 2012 by zeefamilymom

I get asked a lot lately about how hard it is to go back to work; how much harder or easier it is to do this a second time around.

Well it’s a little bit harder and a little bit easier. Sometimes both in the same day.

The first time around, I didn’t think Zack could be OK without me as his 100 percent, all-the-time caregiver. And I certainly didn’t think I’d survive one hour or one day, let alone days or weeks or months or years.

This time, I know that no one will ever be as good of a mother to my children as I am, but I also know that we’ll all survive.

I know that no one’s kisses are more perfectly placed as mine and I know that my absence will make those kisses sweeter and better and much more appreciated on my children’s foreheads and cheeks and hands.

I know that I can tell the difference between a hungry cry and a tired cry and a bored cry and a pain cry, because I heard them in my soul long before I ever met either of my children.

I’m proud of the way that I can master two children, four loads of laundry, two letters, three phone calls, cleaning the downstairs and a blog post pretty flawlessly and yet there are dishes and dirt and dirty clothes around every corner when I come home from work.

I know that my mother-in-law is the best babysitter (cheap, too!) that we could have and that she loves her grandchildren so stinkin’ much, but I also know that she and I have different parenting styles especially when it comes to discipline and exercises. But after butting heads for more than a year, it’s just reached a point where I know I need to sacrifice a little bit of my control and some of my personal wishes for the loving environment my children get to have three or so days a week with her. As Zack and Addie get older, they will both probably see DayCare at least once a week. They need to be in an environment where they can run and play with other kids and do crafts and have some rules. Yadda, yadda.

Bottom line, I know my kids won’t love me any less or forget me any more because I work a few days a week.

(And if they ever give me any grief, I’ll just show them my C-section scars and remind them about three days’ of labor and months of postpartum blues and that ought to quiet them right up.)

A lot of it comes from a confidence in myself as a mother and wife and in doing what’s best for my family — a confidence I desperately wish I possessed half of in any other area of my life.

I want to give my children every thing they need, and sadly, that takes two incomes in our world. I want to have an adult conversation every now and then. I want to feel accomplished, proud, strong, needed. And I get all of that from being back at work. From trading in sweats and bare feet for suits and heels. From trading in lullabies, Backyardigans, walks and bubbles for computers, schedules, paperwork, greeting guests, solving problems and creating others’ happy moments.

But then there are the hard days.
The lump in my throat the first drive to work and the tears I had to hold back every time someone asked me about the kids.
Zack’s birthday when both kids decided to sleep in. I wanted to beg my mother-in-law not to wish him a happy birthday first and not to sing it to him, not to celebrate his coming into our lives two years ago. I bit my tongue and played it cool but couldn’t wait to scoop him into my arms that night.
The days I’ve stayed later than scheduled, missing an entire day of my kids’ lives — no Good Mornings, no meals, no snuggles, no playing and running and definitely no Good Nights. Those days are the hardest.
If I can manage even 30 minutes a day with one or both of the kids, I don’t feel like I’m sacrificing my family for my work; I don’t feel like I’m going to regret one of these days or all of these days. All I feel are sweaty arms around my neck. All I smell is peanut butter and jelly and baby lotion. All I know is love.

I sometimes call Scott pretending I need to ask him something or check on some task, but really I know that I’m praying for a cry or a shriek in the background, any noise at all to get me through the next hour or two.

Some of my coworkers have been beyond amazing. There have been gifts that mean the world with their thoughtfulness, e-mails and messages and hugs and yes, even putting up with the photo album I tortured everyone with my first days back to work.

But when I’m home, I’m home. I pull into that driveway, see my family through the glass, hear the familiar noises as I pass an open window. And surprises, so many surprises.

The quickness of Zack’s ever-improving steps.

Addie sitting perched up in a corner of the couch. Or rolling over every chance she can get.

More frequent babbles and giggles form our little girl. seeing her working so hard to try and sit up already!

Watching Zack put more and more things together in his mind — more words, more coordination, more problem-solving.

And the way the two of them interact. Zack is so in love with his sister now, it’s official. When she cries, he goes over to her, petting her hair and laying his head down on the pillow or blanket next to her. He tries to hug her and she smiles now. He still takes her pacifier, but she doesn’t seem to mind anymore.

This one beautiful moment the other day, I was curled up on the recliner after feeding Addie. Zack came over and motioned that he wanted to come up. I scooped him up with one arm and for 10 or 20 minutes, I had both children on my lap, both happy and sleepy and content.

I’ve been carrying that moment around with me. And it helps make the hard days a little easier.

Click your heels together three times

Posted on November 2, 2011 by zeefamilymom

The Z-Man and I went on an adventure to New Jersey together this past weekend — just the two of us. (Daddy needed a Sanity Break, plus he got lots done around the house!)

I needed Jersey. Every now and then, usually between two and three months from my last visit, I just crave the sights I grew up around, the people who made me who I am today. I yearn for the bridges and road signs and twisted tree branches and sounds that bring me back to 10 and 16 years old. I need Chicky Kisses and Papa Bear Hugs. And I hope Zack grows up wanting and loving those things, too.

Considering the fact that on Friday I was taking photos of flowers and red leaves at my parents’ house and on Sunday we were trudging around in snow from an unexpected storm that left them without power for several days and left Zack and I to have a slumber party with Aunt Alice Saturday night, everything went great!

I had the most fun just watching everybody gobble up Zack and his happy personality. Many of those we saw this weekend haven’t seen Big Man in three months and he has changed SO much. He was part of a Pumpkin Party with delicious food; he received Chochie’s infamous kisses and pulled on Pop-Pop’s nose. There were cousins and aunts and grandparents and even extended family. There were hugs and truck noises and laughs and picture-taking. And a really cute video of him eating turkey pieces floating around Facebook.

My aunt has been through an unimaginable year yet her love for Zack was so huge, so obvious. I just kept whispering to Zack, “You are loved so much, you are loved so much.”

I love seeing my aunt as a “Chochie”, my dad as a grandfather, my niece as a proud big cousin. I loved seeing my grandmother on her hands and knees offering Zack pumpkins from her Halloween lights and little cousin Ryan singing Bob the Builder to an amazed Z-Man, taking in his every move.

It was such a beautiful adventure.

You are so loved, you are so loved, you are so loved.

When your future walks by

Posted on September 25, 2011 by zeefamilymom

I have two modes: strong and weak. There is no in between and both are contrived entirely out of my own beliefs in how I should act or think or how I’m expected to handle a situation that comes my way. So when I let down my guard or show my emotions, I am weak, plain and simple, in my mind. I know that’s not the case and I know it’s only human to not be 100 percent strong 100 percent of the time. But pre-Mommy Mode and post-Mommy Mode is like night and day.

So the other day at work I quite literally saw my future walk on by, right in front of my unsuspecting self. I was standing outside the resort when for some reason, I felt inclined to turn around in the other direction. At that exact moment, I saw 10 seconds of a mother’s day-to-day life. The mother of a son with Down Syndrome. Her son was tall, thin, smiling a large smile, but clearly impacted greatly in several ways by Down Syndrome. He was hesitant about the stairs in front of him, confused about where he was heading and staring excitedly and innocently at the world around him, noticing the flowers in neat rows, the cars being parked nearby, the people standing on the porch. And his mother, graying hair, tall herself, reeked of patience and a heart that is still not whole. She guided him, one hand on his arm, talking to him even though he was much more focused on the task at hand. She looked at him, seeing 20-plus years of moments like this and 20 or so more to come, the two of them never to be equals, she always being his leader.

My throat hurt, my eyes filled with tears.

And as quickly as I started feeling bad for myself, I felt horribly unfair to Zack.

We don’t know what Zack’s life or abilities will be like in 20 years or 20 months. We don’t know what we’ll be like as parents at that time or what other obstacles we may have between now and then.

In the next month, we face two consultations with doctors. The first one, on Tuesday, is a yearly exam with Zack’s pediatric cardiologist. At birth, Z-Man had two holes in his heart that were (hopefully) going to close by his first birthday. At his last pediatrician appointment, though, the doctor thought he heard a murmur. Children with Down Syndrome are often impacted by serious heart defects.

Then in mid-October, we go to Children’s Hospital in Pittsburgh for a consultation with the pediatric urologist. Zack will likely be facing a surgery in the next year — killing two birds with one stone as we try to help his non-descended testicles (keeping them up can increase his risk of sterility and testicular cancer) and a hernia near his belly button.

I’m a nervous wreck.

When Zack was five days old, we left the hospital for the first time, heavy with a new diagnosis and exhausted from an extremely long hospital stay and traveled to the cardiologist’s office, where our nine-pound baby was attached to wires and coated with ultrasound goo as a strange new doctor with a heavy accent looked around his tiny heart. I cried so hard trying to breastfeed him in a private room afterwards, wiping the blue goo all over the doctor’s chair that it was the biggest failure of a feeding we had. I thought I had actually been feeling my heart break in two and I knew that this would be no ordinary parenthood.

I knew that life would never be the same.

But it’s still shocking when it stares you in the face. When a lanky boy with a beautiful smile has no idea how much his mother loves him, how much she would do for him. How much she has sacrificed, studied, learned, prayed.

Zack is getting a one-year evaluation from Early Intervention and we have already been warned by our therapists that we may not like the results and that we, a collection of his caregivers, may have failed him, becoming too comfortable with how we were doing things to encourage more and more independence, strength… success.

So, we endure crying while we force him to feed himself puffs and melts and pieces of cereal, we urge him to hold his sippy cup despite the fight he gives us and we fight right back, pulling him up to stand and letting him roam and crawl and explore. Because I’ll be damned if I ever let myself fail him. If I’ll ever let anyone fail him, give up on him or stop him from having every.single.opportunity humanly possible. I will never look back in regret; I will never wonder if we all did enough for him.

I will fight.

Because he’s a fighter.

Because he made me a mother, he made me a better person.

And when I forget that, I have an amazing support system. E-mails and texts that tell me they “get it,” upbeat quotes that always come at just the right time, compassionate words from c0-workers. And friends like Owen’s Mommy who spent the better part of an awesome playdate listening to me sharing my worries and babbling about exercises and yadda yadda, this and that… all the while, she’s instictively helping Zack to stand, rolling a ball back and forth to him and making him grab things on his own, all the while making me feel like the luckiest friend in the world.

I love how Zack and Owen have this amazing bond together. How they sometimes babble in their secret language to each other, sharing toys now, touching arms and pants and feet with smiles. I hope they are always friends and I’m grateful at the comfort knowing Owen will have such a wonderful Mommy who will teach him in just the right way all about his BFF.

It’s funny how life works out, what happens when you’re not looking or thinking or planning. It’s funny how even at the worst of times, there is still that deep-down feeling that you still have it pretty good and things will all work out just fine.

In a decade

Posted on September 8, 2011 by zeefamilymom

I still can’t look at the New York City skyline the same way. After all those years of weekend trips to visit family just a few minutes away and counting the landmarks — the curvy-top bridge, the exit sign, the Statue of Liberty, the twin towers — it will never be the same.

I was starting my senior year of high school in Northern New Jersey — just a quick hop on a train away from Manhattan. I was in Math class. I hated Math class. Hushed whispers between teachers, something is up. And then being sequestered in the brick building, with little to no information. Rumors started about the in-town business park — the International Trade Zone — mixing with bits of the truth, finally revealed in a schoolwide announcement and a day of disbelief and fright. I saw teachers leave their cup of steaming coffee on the desk as they went to frantically find the fate of their husbands and sons. I saw a classmate just about collapse in worry about a parent who worked in one of the towers. Friends in nearby towns wrote AIM messages about being able to see the smoke from their bedroom windows. Within a week, large flags — most of which are still there — were draped from bridges over the nearby interstate that leads to NYC.

And by twists of fate, I wound up living one county away from the final resting place of Flight 93 — something that had almost been overlooked by me just years before. I covered two somber ceremonies at that site, meeting with the families and friends of the 40 heroes on that plane 10 years ago. And it’s back in my face again this year, an entire career change and the memories of Flight 93 and 9/11 are literally knocking at my door, with our hotel only 30 minutes away from the new memorial in Somerset County.

I don’t know how to forget the twists of metal, formerly a series of familiar buildings, jutting out of the empty space of a skyline. I don’t know how to rid myself of the knot in my throat whenever I see the collapse of the towers, the crater in a field in Pennsylvania, the hole in the Pentagon. I don’t know how to forget my elementary school aide, sweet Ms. Marcin with her German accent, her picture and name scattered along with her memory across a field near my home.

I don’t know how I’ll ever explain this to Zack; how he’ll possibly ever know the magnitude of that day.

I’ve graduated high school, changed colleges, graduated college, worked in two careers, moved to Pennsylvania, got married, had a baby and learned more than I ever wanted to know about Down Syndrome. And yet, this time of the year, I always feel like my entire life has stood still and I’m still 17, watching my world collapse, watching familiar skylines change overnight.

Like I’m still holding my breath.

Never forget, always remember.

Life goes on, it just has to. But that doesn’t mean we forget and it certainly doesn’t mean it’s easy.

It just means we’re human and we’re living in a world that’s crazy and confusing and sometimes doesn’t make sense. But that’s OK. It makes us who we are. As a girl, as a New Jersey resident, as an American.

Always remember.

Love notes and state lines

Posted on June 13, 2011 by zeefamilymom

Friday Night was Date Night — our first one in four months, actually. Worse yet, it was our second one since The Dude was born. I take full responsibility for that.

I still get nervous and excited for our dates, which I think is a good thing, considering Scott and I have been together for almost five years now.

I couldn’t help but notice the love in our house — visible in obvious and non-obvious ways… the love notes I keep, little chores done, Mommy Time given and many more actions from my best friend.

I spend days thinking about everything from how lovely the glass of wine with dinner will taste to whether I should go for the new pink shoes or the white Audrey Hepburn-esque ballet flats (I went Audrey).

I painted my toenails and spent more than five minutes on my hair, all with the help of some very helpful assistants, including Senor Cutey Pants with his big blue-eyed “Momma-you-look-great” gaze.

(Or was it “Enough, already!”???)

Weeks to prepare and I still had to run back inside for things twice because I forgot my cell phone and camera.

But away we went, earlier than expected because it was a short day of work for Scott and a day off for me, waving a quiet goodbye to the still-napping Z-Man and thanking Scott’s mom 10 times on our way out the door for watching the little guy.

Our original plan was to go to a highly-recommended Italian restaurant about 30 minutes away in Cumberland, Md. One of the great things about where we live is that in two hours or less we can pretty much make it close to the Ohio border and into Maryland, West Virginia and Virginia. In four hours we can hit my home area of the Garden State as well as New York state. I think there’s something so freeing about crossing a state line to go to dinner or along your Sunday drive. Anyway.

We passed our Welcome to Maryland sign and were just a mile or so away from the Cumberland exit we normally take when Scott said he had an idea. This sort of statement usually makes me chuckle, because at this point in our relationship, it’s meant everything from a last-minute weekend getaway to a home improvement project to a new videogame. Safer and less expensive than a new guest room, Scott suggested that we keep heading south for a bit into Morgantown, WVa., the home of Scott’s favorite college team, WVU. Within 30 seconds, I could tell that Scott had this in his mind for at least the duration of our trip so far and so I left the decision up to him, smiling as the wind from the window whipped my hair, waiting to see if the blinker would turn on or if we would continue.

And continue we did.

I think if Scott could live anywhere else, it might be West Virginia. I’ve exhausted all of the cousins-sisters-wives jokes on him already, and he’s still a major supporter of the state and possibly works for their tourism bureau on nights he says he’s out bowling. I think it’s simply the lush, dense forests and the similarities between the area he grew up in, minus some farms and homes and adding some larger rivers and winding ridges. And pick-ups. Adding a lot of pick-up trucks.

Not long after our spontaneous turn-off southward, it became quiet — the good quiet. We were playing the Alphabet Game (no, seriously, we are fiercely competitive with this and play every time we drive further than to the grocery store!) when suddenly I realized Scott was not just simply sucking at the game, he was just not playing anymore. He was taking in the scenery, holding tightly to myhand near the center of our two seats and smiling to himself. It was perfect. And so I gave him the peaceful time — and the loss.

We pulled into Morgantown, and well, no offense to its citizens, but it didn’t really do it for me. It needs a lot of love, and even Scott agreed that it wasn’t all that he remembered it being from trips there for baseball camp in high school. I think it was something about rose-colored glasses and the beloved football and basketball teams.

We still had a delicious dinner at a very cute Italian restaurant, filled with the only bit of serious talk we needed to get out of the way, before taking a little walk along the Monongahela River.

Then we decided to head up to Cumberland, a familiar and beloved spot on the way home. We took in the historic downtown area, walking the cobblestone streets and tapping intertwined hands to the beat of two different bands playing live in different corners of the canal area. We sat on a bench enjoying some ice cream, people-watched and walked along some nearby railroad tracks.

A perfect summertime evening.

I am so loved, I love so much.

As nice as it was to have some “just us” time, seeing our smiling little guy the next day was just as wonderful. Duders, your Momma and Daddy are refreshed and in love, and everybody wins in that equation.

You are so loved, my two guys, so loved.

Love, love, love.

Success, Mom Style

Posted on May 27, 2011 by zeefamilymom

How do you measure success?

As a working woman, as a manager, it’s about time management; organization and multi-tasking; respect. It’s about balancing the importance of small triumphs and big rookie mistakes. It’s about leaving work in the parking lot as I drive away — to return just a few hours later sometimes.

As for the rest of my life, success is all at once harder and easier to measure.

It’s mostly about making the most out of every moment — standing by the screen door to feel the mist of a springtime thunderstorm breezing by our world and equally admiring the birds building a nest in our wisteria bush on a sunny afternoon. It’s about being present, and about being thankful.

Success is making it through my first year as a mom (almost!) relatively healed and a better person. It’s about being an advocate for moms like me, sons like Zack and diseases and diagnoses like Down Syndrome — without being overbearing, annoying or obsessed.

Success is waking up to a world where new friendships are born out of memories and different walks of life… paths that lead to playdates and teary-eyed stories and everything in between. The understanding of complex feelings on complicated days without saying a single word about it all.

Success is a day like today.

A day where understanding the significance of my son sitting up on his own is not lost on me but not the only thing that moves me, either. It’s a day where I can let him fall 10 times, one of those likely resulting in a good cry from the impact of the toy behind his head. I bite my lip, hold back my hand from caressing the sore spot and watch as the tears quickly dry up and life is good again.

Yes, life is good again. One point for Mommy.

A day like today brings me a boy whose mid-morning cat nap can only be found on Mommy’s chest today. And I won’t argue with that at all.

Success is catching up with my dad, my stepmother, my Godmother and a best friend, and reaching out to the voicemails of a handful more.

I am successful today because I hugged my husband a little more, told him “I love you” a few more times and meant it with all of my heart. Where the seriousness and beauty of the journey we’ve shared makes us stronger, not weaker. And a day where “forever” sounds like a piece of cake. We’ve made it to what has got to be Hell — and back — and then a few more times — and days like this, he holds me close, tells me he’s “having a moment” and just can’t let me go.

Yes, I must be doing something right.

Success is laughing with my nearly 10-month-old son over nothing at all; neither one of us is able to stop.

Success is feeling his heavy weight on my hip as I hold him in front of his crib, the curtains drawn, pajamas on, milk in belly. I tell myself it’s OK that it’s still so hard to let go. And that it’s even better that I’m able to do just that.

I didn’t finish the laundry I started.

I only read one magazine, not the other 10 in my must-read-soon pile. (Hey guess what — Osama’s been killed!)

I am only now sitting down to write a blog I’ve been thinking about for hours; the latest in a handful that need written and shared.

I didn’t buy any more work clothes. I definitely didn’t make it to the grocery store.

But I laughed, I smiled, I rested, I thought, I prayed, I hoped, I drank some wine, I laughed some more. I loved a lot. I was loved.

I lived a good day today.

And I think that makes me successful.

Mom Stuff, 2011 Edition

Posted on May 8, 2011 by zeefamilymom

Dear Mommy,

It is that day of the year. The day daughters and sons and husbands and loved ones celebrate the mothers in their lives. Each year, it is a painful reminder — more painful than your Leap Year birthday or the anniversary of your passing (coming up in just a couple of weeks) — a painful reminder that you are not here.

May 26 causes me to relive the day that made me an adult much too early; that shaped my every move and trait and flaw. Mother’s Day causes me to focus so specifically on all of the things you are missing, have missed and will miss. And this year, my first as a mother myself, that loss is magnified.

Your grandson is in his bassinet, lifting his head up with strength I feared he would never have. He flips over, grabs his feet, giggles and looks up at me — the first of many “Mom, did you see?!” moments I love. Did those moments with you fill your heart up with happiness and hope? Did you hold your breath when I fell or did you come running with a hug? I need to know, because some days, there is such intense pressure to not mess up any of these Mommy Moments.

“Mommy…” I call out in weakness. “Mommy, what should I do?” The day of Zachary’s diagnosis, I cried myself to sleep chanting “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy…” For you or for me?

Just as I briefly thought Down Syndrome would cause me to curl up and die, as if I let my son down, my family down, I once thought that there was a point in which the hurt of missing you would quietly fade into the back of my memories, collecting dust and fingerprints like a favorite photo. I was wrong on both ends.

I am stronger than ever, and so is the pain of life without you.

There are days that Down Syndrome could easily consume me, but I remind myself that I’ve been through much worse, much harder things than this. In fact, it was the first thing my dad told me when I told him of Zachary’s diagnosis — how strong I was and how I had survived worse tragedies before. He was talking about you, and your death 17 years ago.

I think I’m a good mother. I hope I am, at least. There are some days I’m pretty darned proud of myself and of how good it feels to hold my son so close and make him a better person, too.

But I’ve had to figure it out all on my own. I had no mother in my life to talk to me about how a baby would change my life; how pregnancy would feel; tell me stories about when she was pregnant with me. When Scott’s family came into the hospital room nine months ago, I daydreamed about the smile on your face and where you would be sitting and just how much I felt your absence. There are days still that I pick up the phone, wanting to call you and vent about my bad day or seek advice. And I realize I don’t have your phone number.

I get bitter sometimes and I do a lot of wondering why. Just like I hope and hope that my friends realize how special their “healthy” and “normal” babies are and how much they take for granted, I wonder if those I love who aren’t members of the Motherless Daughters Club can imagine a Mother’s Day without a mother. Or any day for that matter.

Let’s be honest, Mommy, you weren’t perfect. Not as a mother and not as a person. But I don’t know many people who are at either. I certainly am not. I certainly have my demons, too. But on this Mother’s Day, you are loved, appreciated, thought of and most sorely missed. By a couple of us this year. Because at least once every day, I take a moment to mention you, in a story or through a photo, to your grandson. And he always smiles.

The chance that she never had is now the gift that is mine. And out here on this road I’m making up for lost time. Yeah, I am my mother’s child and tonight in this car, I got her words in my suitcase, her dreams in my heart.

For the first time in my life, this Mother’s Day is all my own.

But I might just share it with a little blond-haired boy with a drooly grin and big blue eyes. You see, I thought I was a good writer. I’m becoming confident in my new position and career, too. But there is absolutely no job that I feel like I was made for quite like my roles as Scott’s wife and Zack’s momma. It is in those moments with my two guys that I feel whole, complete, at peace and so unimaginably happy.

I was born to be a mother.

*** It was after I wrote this that I received my Mother’s Day gift(s) from Scott. The man is a sweetheart and a thinker and knows how to drive a point home. I received four charms from Brighton (my favoritest ever) — all birthstones — one heart-shaped one for Zack and then one each for the three “mothers” in my life — my Mom, my stepmother and Scott’s Mom. Pile of happy tears.

Mother’s Day, it seems, isn’t just about being a Mom; it’s about the Moms in your life. It’s about the mother figures, too, and there’s a lot of you out there. And I think it should be about the New Mom Friends who have helped me navigate this boat in rough seas and to all the friends and loved ones who aren’t Mommies, can’t be Mommies, are trying to be Mommies and will someday soon be Mommies. You’re all in my heart today.

Everybody poops and there was some sunshine

Posted on April 6, 2011 by zeefamilymom

This post is actually about five posts in one. Bits and pieces of thoughts from this day and that day and retracing notes on scratch paper from work and home.

there’s a fire starting in my heart, reaching a fever pitch and it’s bringing me out the dark

Truth be told, I was going to write in honor of World Down Syndrome Awareness Day a couple of weeks ago. About how one diagnosis has changed my family’s world. About the darkness Scott and I found ourselves in one afternoon in the hospital nearly eight months ago.

Then, funny story.

I was planning the post in my mind when Zachary’s diaper exploded right after a meal when I was home alone with him. The shock of such a poopy sight all over his highchair made for one of those deer-in-headlight moments on my face, I’m sure. Within moments of sharing the yucky story on facebook (with none of the photos I took, be still, although this one is from the immediate and clean aftermath…), I had several of my Mommy friends sharing stories of poopy highchair experiences of their own, and the ones in the carseat and the crib.

You see, my baby poops just like any other baby. Even with the Big Bad Down Syndrome label.

throw your soul through every open door (Whoa) count your blessings to find what you look for (Whoa-uh) turn my sorrow into treasured gold

You see, he has messy diapers like any other (nearly) eight-month-old. He eats the same baby food. He rubs his eyes like most babies do when he’s sleepy. Just like other kids, he smiles a lot. And he cries his fair share through cranky moments, too.

And as his parents, we’ve shared a lot of experiences that other parents have, DS label and all. We fought our way, numbly and in a daze, through sleep deprivation. We learned the hard way not to leave a baby boy’s penis exposed without covering. I have playdates with friends and their babies and it’s not awkward or uncomfortable or even sad anymore. We scoop up each other’s babies, and I can’t speak for them, but I feel the same glorious love and motherly awesomeness when I see and hold their babies as I do with my own.

We probably think a lot more than other parents because of DS. We think about exercises and goals and physical therapy. Those are things most of our friends don’t consider.

I know I regret. Regret wasting my time making plans I had no business planning. And dreaming daydreams of things that aren’t that important.

And we worry. We worry about missing goals and lazy days of exercise. We sometimes, when our guard is down, worry about the future. That big, unpredictable scary series of tomorrows. Tomorrows of shorter life spans and unknown skills and achievements and delays. Tomorrows of teasing and confusion and the need to spend an entire lifetime “proving everybody wrong.” How sweet it would have been to have felt no need, no pressure… no DS.

But really, the majority of our lives are not spent thinking about our lives with Down Syndrome, but rather thinking of a life that has beautiful blue eyes, blonde wispy locks of hair and reaching, grabbing, exploring fingertips. A life that has taught us to live.

A co-worker used the “r” word in front of me last week. And it was the first time since Zack was born and I started following the Spread the Word to End the Word campaign that I haven’t felt the need to throw a fit and stand on my soapbox with a megahorn.

We have hibernated our long, cruel winter.

I guess the winter makes you laugh a little slower, makes you talk a little lower about the things you could not show her

And it’s been a long December and there’s reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last
I can’t remember all the times I tried to tell myself
To hold on to these moments as they pass

And Spring is arriving, in teasing, agonizing glimpses here and there, but it is arriving nonetheless. Better late than never.

Between the budding flowers and green fields along my walks with Z-Man and the new job and everything that it brings with it, I am truly opening my eyes to everything around me.

The love given so beautifully and easily to me from my two guys. One who has given me the ultimate battle of my life so far and the greatest pride, welling up in a happy lump in my throat when I think of his purity, innocence, gorgeous giggles. Another who has fought the good fight with me every step of the way and who is the only person capable of making me feel so good at all of my jobs — mother, wife, manager, daughter, friend, woman, soul.

It almost feels like Scott and I are in our early days of dating again. We nuzzle together and send texts and leave little love notes. It’s pretty romantically gross, really.

There is more laughter in our house lately, and more love.

Love is a shelter in a raging storm

Love is peace in the middle of a war
And if we try to leave, may God send angels to guard the door
No, love is not a fight but it’s something worth fighting for

I can smell candles burning and the steaming cup of coffee in my hands.

I hear the background hum of a favorite ballad and a high-pitched squeal of delight.

I feel the warmth of muscular arms holding me tight, the warm breath from a good-morning kiss.

But what I see. Oh, such beautiful things.

Few things will ever compare to that big goofy, gumless grin that greets me after a long work day. Zack’s face just seems to explode with delight every single day. The 30 or so minutes that follow, although at his most tired time of the day, are so beautiful. My hair twisting in his fingers, his blue eyes searching my own.

So forgive my infrequent posts. I can’t offer you a glimpse into our lives every day any more, but I hope never to stop this blog.

I just need more time to see things in a quiet place far removed from everyone and everything. I need time to watch the cardinal that was dancing on my front porch this morning while I danced with my son to a bad 90′s song.

I need more time to laugh with my son and hug my husband so very tightly. Then, I can come here and share it all — the good, the bad and the ugly.

For now, I am so very happy.

And I think my two guys are pretty content as well.

Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces
Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been here

zeefamilydotcom

Tag Archives: Zee Momma

Rekindling in Richmond

Letting it be and catching up

Back to work

Click your heels together three times

When your future walks by

In a decade

Love notes and state lines

Success, Mom Style

Mom Stuff, 2011 Edition

Everybody poops and there was some sunshine

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