Seven

Seven. I have been a mother for seven years. On August 22, 2008, Morgan joined our family, changing every fiber of my being. She came into this world after 22 hours of labor, protesting every step of the way. Nothing about her is easy. Everything about her is perfect.

I never longed to be a mother. For many years, I couldn't see how babies fit into my life. I had school to finish, a career to guide, a world to conquer. And then I met David. And then maybe, just maybe, I could see adding a little person to the equation. And so we did.

I want to write more about my daughter, but I am struggling. Since Clara's arrival, my posts have been sparse, more sweet than substance. My thoughts on having another baby are complex, often filling my mind during those few precious moments of quiet. The comparisons are inevitable, instantly taking me back to those first few days, weeks, and months as a mother. Clara is just so much easier than Morgan was. She sleeps better, rarely spits up, and will smile at just about anyone who throws a glance her way.

Friends have said that second babies are often just easier, born with a temperament in stark contrast to the sibling who preceded them. Others have suggested that it's not the baby, it's the parents. First babies are journeys into unknown waters, complete with heightened anxiety and too many unnecessary trips to the pediatrician "just in case."

Second babies bring with them confidence, a sense of "I got this." They bring with them less fear, more joy, more appreciation for every painful, exhausting moment. And for that I say thank you. I thank you, Morgan. For tearing open the wounds of my heart, exposing me to the vast, often lonely world of motherhood. Your first breaths brought with them strength and vulnerability, an instant connection between us. You needed me almost as much as I needed you.

And that's how it's been for the past seven years. The two of us, leaning in. What was once a tiny, wiggling bundle is now a mess of hair and limbs. I still snuggle you, you still asked to be held. You spill off my lap, caught somewhere between being a baby and a young lady. Coos and giggles are now sass and opinions. You challenge me at every turn. To be more patient, to be more measured, to be more creative in finding ways to channel your spirit.

And yet, through all of this, I marvel. At your generosity, your thoughtfulness, the deliberate way you make every decision. And now, as this seventh year has changed us yet again, I marvel at your growth. You forgive me every day. For having to share our time with your sister, for having to meet her needs before yours, for not always remembering you're still just a baby yourself. As big as "seven" feels right now, you are still so itty bitty. But you still love me, and you love her. You love her in a way that is pure and raw, not yet clouded by the stolen toys and hurt feeling that will eventually complicate your relationship. You love her the way I love you. Unconditionally and forever.

Happiest birthday to my darling daughter. You are life. You are joy. You are love. You are, and will always be, my everything.

Matched Set

Ever since she was little, Morgan has been a keen observer of similarities and differences. She loves to talk about our ages, our heights (she's quick to remind David that I have him beat in that department), and even the fact that both she and David have deep brown eyes. Morgan favors David so much that people often refer to her as his "mini me"-  it's like I did all of work bringing her into the world but get none of the credit. Unless she's being loud. Or sassy. Then suddenly she's all mine.

The arrival of her baby sister brought a new round of comparisons - people wanted to know how my pregnancies compared, my labors, and whether the girls looked like each other. What I didn't expect was Morgan's new found commitment to finding as much in common with Clara as possible. It started on Mother's Day, when Morgan asked if she and Clara could wear the same colored shirts. I did my best to find something they could each wear, especially considering Clara was six days old and I hadn't done laundry since shortly before her arrival. Given the fact you have to change a newborn's outfit 4,862 times a day, it was pretty dire. Regardless, the stage was set.

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Morgan then requested matching Boppies for family room lounging:

And asked for complementary dresses for Clara's first (okay only) trip to church:

Eventually she wanted them to coordinate each time we left the house:

I finally got on board with their 4th of July outfits:

And David went full on over the top the last time he brought the girls to the office. Nailed it:

If I think back just a little, I should have known Morgan would be keen on finding ways to connect with another girl in the house. One of the first times Morgan realized she and I actually had something in common was during potty training. As all good moms do, I took her into the bathroom with me so that she could see how big girls use the potty. As we discussed bathroom logistics, her eyes grew wide. "Wait! You have a pee pee?!?!?  I have a pee pee!!!  WE MATCH!!!!" Yes, yes we do. Now just don't get any crazy ideas about matching tattoos.

Whoa

I haven't posted in six weeks. Not because I have nothing to say, but because showering has once again become a luxury. I have so many emotions about having another baby. About being the mother of two daughters. About being a family of four. But those thoughts are for another post. I'm just too damn tired to be sappy.

Clara Josephine Lorenzo joined our family on May 4, 2015 at 1:43 am. She weighed in at 7 lbs 2 oz and measured 20 inches long. After a quick and relatively easy labor, girlfriend was born screaming bloody murder, just like her big sister was six years prior. I will spare you the details of my delivery, other than to boast that I was able to bring Clara into the world without an epidural and without cursing my husband a single time. I can barely get through a Tuesday without doing that. 

 Needless to say, we were instantly smitten. Morgan was enamored, immediately embracing her new role as a big sister. In those first few moments, I wanted nothing more than to soak in their blossoming relationship. But it was almost 3:00 in the morning and I really needed a cheeseburger and a glass of wine. Unfortunately, I got neither of those things. By this time, the hospital kitchen was closed, and Red Robin had quit making fries hours ago. I sent our nurse on a scavenger hunt (I am pretty sure she rifled through the staff fridge), and she returned with some string cheese, an apple, and a bag of Baked Lays. Close enough.

Later that morning, Clara got her first bath. She returned pink and round and perfect. Because I had such a fast delivery, Clara's features didn't have time to become horrifyingly distorted. When Morgan was born, she looked like a prize fighter. A fighter on the losing end of the match. The hospital still made us take her home. 

By the time Wednesday morning rolled around, we were all ready to be discharged. Although I have nothing but wonderful things to say about the hospital and its staff, my room was a revolving door of activity. Between the hearing screening, the nursing staff and the hospital photographer, the only time I got any rest was when I locked myself in the bathroom. Not surprisingly, that trend continued when we got home. It now takes me 27 minutes to pee. Just ask David.

The thing about newborns is that they are super misleading. They sleep so much in the beginning that they lull you into thinking that having another kid will actually be easy. As it had been more than six years since I had a newborn in the house, I very quickly fell into this trap. 

As you may recall, I went back to school a few years ago. I took a class this semester, and my final was very stupidly strategically due on the same day as Clara. I was optimistic it would all fall together beautifully. Of course I was wrong. Clara was born on Monday, and my final was due on Thursday. My professor offered to give me an extension, but I knew better. Eventually, that baby was going to wake up and expect me to parent her. My days with a sleepy baby were numbered, so I might as well use that time while I had it. 

So there I was, freshly discharged from the hospital, burping a newborn, typing a paper, and trying to help Morgan figure out what the hell happened to one of her Legos. Baptism by fire, check.

As we embark on this adventure, I really am trying to appreciate every fleeting moment, no matter how challenging or how exhausting. Because we are definitely, definitely not doing this again.

Home Stretch

We are at the 39-week mark. For the (very) few of you who have resisted the urge to ask, I am still pregnant. Pregnancy and I actually get along swimmingly, except for the occasional moment when I feel like my belly is going to literally fall of my body. A friend of mine was still running 4 miles when she was 40 weeks...I would consider that an option if someone was willing to duct tape my stomach down. Totally feasible.

In advance of our little arrival, we decided to have some family photos taken. Beginning when Morgan was a baby, we've had a tradition of getting photos done in various places around Boise. We had these taken in the foothills north of town, and they are some of my favorites. I'm not sure if I consider these the last photos of the three of us or the first photos of the four of us. Regardless, they make us all look a little better than we do in real life, which makes them perfect. 

Cramming

In less than three weeks (if we're lucky), we will be adding another family member to our household. As I have shared, we have spent months shopping, cleaning, and mentally preparing for this new chapter. As we move through our to-do lists, I have found myself putting more and more emphasis on my daily interactions with Morgan. Things that have historically been mundane are now suddenly significant. Moments that would have otherwise gone unnoticed are now permanently filed in the recesses of my mind, like little tiny flashcards.

In February, we celebrated Morgan's half-birthday with one half of a cake and one half of a song. Objectively, this day meant no more than any other day, as we've never celebrated half birthdays before. But in that moment, as she and I mixed batter and poured sprinkles, that day was everything. From the moment I started telling people that I was pregnant, they asked how old Morgan would be when her sister was born. Morgan (even now) would beam and proudly exclaim, "I will be 6 and half!" And so we celebrated, marking the last time she will blow out candles without a little sibling under foot.

In March, as we wandered the isles of the party supply store, Morgan and I spent nearly an hour among the party supplies, planning grand events and elaborate costumes. As we cackled over the increasingly ridiculous masks we found and tried on, I paused. There was no toddler there to supervise, no little hands to stop from pulling everything off the shelves. It was just the two of us, me and my little best friend. And we are friends. We plan lunch dates and manicures, strategizing on how to spend our Saturdays. We gang up on David, sharing a glance whenever he doesn't get the joke.

Although I know we'll have so many more of these moments, I couldn't help but panic just a little when I realized that we will be sharing our time with another member of our family. Or maybe, just maybe it was my own realization that with the arrival of a sister comes a new relationship that I won't necessarily be a part of. Again, the rational part of me welcomes this next chapter, but I am already mourning the loss of the status quo.

This week, Morgan had no school on Wednesday. We made it a girls' day at the movies, taking in a matinee while David was suffering through a mandatory in-service. I called my mom from the car, and mentioned in passing that this was the last movie Morgan and I would go see before her baby sister arrived. We chuckled a bit about how quickly time is passing and then hung up. And then I proceeded to sob the rest of the way to the theater. I let her sit on my lap (or what's left of it) throughout the movie and was all to happy to oblige when she asked me if we could spend $5 and visit the photo booth.

As the tiny images emerged, I couldn't help but laugh at my ridiculousness over the past several months. These photos so perfectly captured our relationship, the bond that is so solidly formed between us. And what better way to commemorate the transition from one daughter to two, from being an only child to being sisters, from being a family in flux to a complete family of four. Yeah, I think we're ready.