Scenes from Christmas

We had one of the best Christmases yet.  Brae is now 5 and is really into this time of year.  Just watching him get so excited for Christmas and believing in all the magic of the season makes it a thrill for us.

He's also starting to understand why we celebrate Christmas, although the concept of Jesus and God living in his heart remains a bit foreign.  He thinks they are just up in heaven.  And he wants God to be a lion.  (I told him He kind of is).

Christmas Eve service was a hoot. The kids stayed in "big church" with us, and for the most part were well behaved.  Sienna jumped up and down at all the Christmas songs.  When everyone bowed their heads and closed their eyes to pray, Sienna yelled at me, "Mommy! Wake up!"  And when the candles were being passed and each one slowly lit, Sienna again yelled, "Fire's coming! Fire's coming!"

Brae really wanted a Polar Express train this year, and would tell every Santa he encountered just this.  When I went shopping, I struck out.  So Tygh set out to find it, and 2 days and 6 stores later, he did.  A real Polar Express train.

A couple days before Christmas, I asked Brae if he thought Santa was really going to bring him his train.  He replied, without hesitation, "I know he will."

I love his child-like faith. 

Christmas morning, Tygh may have been more excited than Brae.  He woke up at the crack of dawn to make sure the train was around the tree, running.  When Brae came down the stairs, he stopped dead in his tracks, and then just looked up at us and grinned.

Priceless.

Sienna was much more subdued this year.  She's not really into any one thing this year, except for the constants of animals (particularly giraffes).  Her genetic donors graciously sent her a giraffe rocking horse, which Sienna loves.  Sienna also took forever opening all of her gifts.  She wanted to delicately unwrap each one, play with it completely, and then move onto the next. 

It was also a treat celebrating in our new house - something we wouldn't have dreamed of several months ago.

God has blessed us abundantly this year, and we are very thankful.

Brae-isms

Sadly, I feel that Brae's great legacy of Brae-isms may be slowly coming to an end.  His inquiries now are much less funny, and more stumping. I find myself scrambling for possible explanations.  Indeed, his questions are ones I often ask myself.  My boy is growing up.

With that in mind, here's a few snippets I've gathered from his last few months that still warm my heart:

1) The other day, Brae looked up at me from his breakfast and asked, "Mom, why did God not make me a dog?"  Great question, son.  Great. Question.

2) One Saturday morning, while watching Game Day with Dad, he turns to Tygh and states: "Dad! Those announcers keep interrupting each other.  They need to learn to share!"

3) As I was driving the kids around on one particularly sunny day, Sienna started shrieking.  The sun was directly in her eyes, blinding her.  Seeing this, Brae moved into action.  He leaned over the seat toward Sienna, and put out his hand to shield her eyes from the sun.  I smiled.  Then, he spit in her hair.

Alas, we will meet.

In almost exactly one year, we will meet our donors and Sienna's genetic siblings for the first time.

We are "facebook" friends, text one another frequently, send emails, receive Christmas and birthday gifts from them for Sienna, and are otherwise basically linked for life.

But we've never met in person.

That will all change next December.

We have planned a trip to Disney World with our family next year, and have invited our donors to meet us there.  They agreed!

I am beyond excited.  Sienna will be 3.5 years old, and her genetic siblings will be newly teenagers.  What better place to connect than the happiest place on Earth?!

When we were looking at profiles of potential donors back in 2010, our main criteria was that we get matched with people we felt we could sit down and have a beer with.  People we could just talk to.  Our donors fit the bill. 

Needless to say I'm beyond thrilled to meet them, throw my arms around each one of them, thank them profusely for this amazing gift they gave to us, and just enjoy some time getting to know one another more. 

I'm excited for Sienna to have this opportunity to meet her blood, although I full well know she will not understand much about it.  But, that's what video and cameras are for.

And, I trust this will only be the first of several visits over her lifetime.  

Brae's 5 year checkup

 

Brae's 5-year checkup was quite possibly one of the worst doctor appointments I've ever had. First, it lasted over an hour. Checking the ears, eyes, muscle control, balance, urinating in a cup, the list goes on. Second, Brae was in a mood. He was antsy, obnoxious, picking on his sister, not wanting to listen to the doctor, the list goes on.

I think I may have contributed to the mood by prepping him the night before that he had to get some... (shhh...) s.h.o.t.s. I think that just caused him a lot of anxiety.

But, I've also done the opposite before, and not told him the shots were part of the gameplan, and he freaked out.

Can't win.

So, after an hour of complete misery, a nurse and I then had to hold Brae down with all our might as they administered the round of shots. I held his face in my hands as I just tried to calm him down by talking softly to him, looking in his eyes. Poor little guy, he was just terrified. I think next time I won't tell him the shots are part of the deal, so he'll have less time to get worked up about it.

Sigh.

His stats are that he's just above 50% for height, and 50% for weight. The doctor said he's highly intelligent, and perhaps a little OCD. (Brae's organized his closet so that every hanger is evenly spaced; when he climbs into bed at night, he only disturbs the bed as much as absolutely necessary so as not to ruin in the straight sheets and blanket; I could go on).

We noticed that behavior as early as 18 months, when Brae would line up all his toy cars in perfectly neat rows. The doctor said we should just continue to watch it, but that he may just be an engineer in the making (like his Daddy!).

Little Miss Sienna definitely does not have OCD. The girl's room is in a constant state of disrepair, she loves to make huge messes, and could care less if she walks around in a wet and poopy diaper all day.

Maybe I can channel Brae's OCD into cleaning up his sister's room....

Thankless.

It's that time of year when everyone is supposed to feel thankful.  Full of hope.  Gratitude. 

But if you're struggling with infertility, or have ever felt the pain of that longing, this can be the worst time of the year. 

You're surrounded by families at the mall.  Christmas songs sung by children haunt the radio.  Pregnant women proudly display their rotund bellies adorned by colorful scarves.

It sucks.

The last thing you feel is in the Christmas spirit, let alone thankful, hopeful, or grateful.

You feel... thankless. 

I have soaked many pillows with my tears on Thanksgiving Day, Christmas Eve, and Christmas Day.  The longing for a child runs deep.  It penetrates the interior, and like a cancer, eats away until it captures your soul.  Your identity. 

If you're not diligent and on guard, it imprisons your joy.

I've been there. 

Even after having children, and in many ways, having been delivered from that imprisonment, I still bear the scars. 

And for that, I'm thankful. 

Infertility has made me a more compassionate person, and not just to others sharing in the same struggle.  To others who have broken relationships - with their parents, their children, their siblings.  To others who have lost parents, children.  

Infertility has also given me a platform that, without experience, I would have no credibility with those who seek my counsel.  Just like you wouldn't want to take marriage advice from someone who has never been married, people don't want to talk about infertility with someone who has no problem getting pregnant. 

In many ways, infertility has been a gift. 

Infertility gave me my son.  Infertility gave me my daughter.

Infertility has woven a beautiful, painful tapestry in my life. 

The effects of infertility have made me thankful.