Tuesday, April 24, 2018




Rich likes to find photos of the girls when they were babies and hang them up in the kitchen somewhere, on the side of the fridge or wedged into the outdated phone jack on the wall.  There's one now next to the message center with the three of them dressed in pink, sitting on our bed.  They're nine months old, full of smiles and I sometimes wish for them to be babies again.

There's just so much growing going on right now.  This is when it gets scary.  (I'm sure it will get even scarier too.)  When they really start to grow up.  No longer little kids, but not yet teenagers.  I always feel a bit emotional this time of year, around their birthday.

I keep referring back to very wise words from another stillbirth mom.  We should love watching our children, who are here, grow because we have babies who will always remain babies.  And she's correct.  What a blessing to watch healthy children grow up.  Not everyone is this lucky.

Back to when the girls were babies for a second.  Man, that was rough and I sometimes feel like I missed out a bit because of how difficult that time was.  But what do I know?  Well, that's all I know.  I don't know what it's like to have singletons.

When I had the girls at the pediatrician for their well visit last week, we all started off in the same room.  Emily was the first one to finish up with the nurse so the NP took her into another room for her exam.  Emily came back in a short while later and proudly stated, "Mommy, I grew two and a half inches."

They still call me Mommy.

So while I do often wish I could hold them as little babies again, I'm enjoying this age.  It's easy to forget having to climb into the back of the van to buckle and unbuckle three babies, and then three toddlers.  We move around much quicker these days, with less stress on my back.  There's organized chaos now, as opposed to mass chaos.  I know the saying goes "the days are long, but the years are short" but right now the days feel extremely short to me.  They just keeping flying by.



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