If you know this song by Kate Bush, you know the emotion behind it.  If you don’t, look it up and listen to it.  Maxwell did a version as well.

If you have seen the movie She’s Having a Baby with Kevin Bacon and Elizabeth McGovern, you know the scene I’m talking about. If you haven’t seen it, again, look it up on youtube.

If you have given birth, I have no doubt you have felt like this at some point.

Labor is HARD. It’s hard as hell, and there will be moments when you feel like you can’t do it.  You will be laying there, sweating, crying, screaming, and you will think:

“I can’t do this.  There is no way in hell I can push this baby out.  I think I’m going to die.”

And then, you’ll hear it.  A tiny voice that reminds you just how strong you really are, and exactly what your body can do.  You’ll push all the doubts aside.  You’ll squash them and tell them to go to hell, and then you’ll dig deep.  You will remember that this tiny person inside of you is counting on you to help them into the world, and to be honest, you’ll want your body back.

No matter how you give birth - vaginal or c-section, natural or epidural.  You will understand the strength of your body.  

Sure, pregnancy and labor is hell on the bustline, and it stretches the skin on your stomach more than you thought humanly possible.  I won’t sugar coat it… labor hurts more than anything you have ever felt in your life.

And there are moments - even though I’ve done it all five times - when I am sad that I will never feel that power (pain?) again.

Crazy, huh?

Yesterday’s post was a doozy!  Roy joked that he didn’t even want to edit it (grammar/spelling) for me as it was so long.  Today’s won’t be quite so wordy.

Dean is about to turn three.  Every time he hits a “first,” I am reminded that he is my last baby.  I won’t ever see a first step or hear a first word from one of my own children.  So there are moments I find myself becoming maudlin, even shedding a tear.  And while I am sure there are things most people can see themselves remembering fondly, I find that there are some things I never thought I would miss, that I actually miss!

I miss 3am feedings!  I nursed Addi until he was about 7 months old, Hayden until he was 11 months old and Dean for a year.  I was lucky, and all three of the younger boys took to nursing like nobody’s business.  And now with Addi being 11, Hayden 6, and Dean about to turn three, I can look back on those early months with a fondness I didn’t feel back then.  I miss waking up in the darkness, hearing those tiny cries, and knowing that the moment I picked up my babies, they would understand that all was right in the world.

I miss that first night home!  You know, the one where you are still in pain from delivery, your stomach is a swollen mess, you can’t get a brush through your hair, and no matter how many kids you have, you still feel like you can’t do this.  Roy, and perhaps many men, don’t seem to understand that as a mother, especially one that is nursing, you often worry that your baby isn’t getting enough milk, they aren’t doing it right, etc.  With me, I KNEW the boys weren’t getting enough.  The first nights Hayden and Dean were home were very similar.  My milk hadn’t come in yet, and I knew my babies were crying for food.  I was hormonal, exhausted, and could barely see straight.  I cried like a baby, and Roy fussed at me (in that moment, my only thought was… “Roy sucks!”  Of course, he doesn’t, and I realize it was just the hormones yelling).  I just wanted some sleep.  Because my milk hadn’t come in yet, there was only so much I could do, so I put my pillows against the head boards, cradled the boys to my chest and that first night, we both slept.  I miss that, them so tiny they could curl up on my chest.  The simply act of them hearing my heartbeat was all they needed.  Roy’s chest is much broader than mine and the boys could curl up there for months, but with me, I only had a few weeks where they were tiny enough to do that.

I miss my aliens! I was about ready to pop with Dean, and one night Roy and I were lying in bed.  I was lying on my back trying to work up the energy to turn to my side when suddenly my stomach became wildly distorted.

“ROY!” I grabbed his arm, “LOOK!”

“WHOA! Does it hurt?”  He looked on in alarm, as Dean shifted positions in my stomach, and my body just kept distending, and distending, and distending.  I think he was pretty sure he was about to be greeted with a face hugger. (I love Aliens, what can I say?!)

I laughed and touched my belly, which was rolling and rippling.  It didn’t hurt, it was just a reminder to me that Dean was running out of room, and any day now I could hold my little boy.

Tiny Diapers! With Dean I used cloth diapers.  Not always fun to wash, but I knew it was better for the environment, so I pushed on.  We used Bum Genius diapers, and they are adjustable, so when Dean was little, they were tiny, just like the disposable ones we used with the other boys.  I miss those tiny diapers, that looked more like a bandaid for one of Roy’s leg wounds.  Dean is almost potty trained, and while we are thrilled to be reaching this milestone, for me it’s another reminder that my baby days are almost behind me.

We were in Germany visiting Roy’s parents when it dawned on me that my period was late. It was August of 2003. We were in Germany for about two weeks, and I was dying to take a pregnancy test. I even went so far as to tell Roy we should just buy one, and we would figure it out. He told me to just wait, and so I did, but not happily let me make that clear! The day after we got back, I ran to Target and bought an EPT. I didn’t even want to finish my shopping, I just wanted to pay for it and get home to take the test. Of course, Roy reminded me that leaving without toilet paper and milk probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, so eventually we got what we needed, paid and drove home.

“Seriously, Chris!” Roy yelled at me as I ran into the house with my little bag and left Roy and the three older boys to handle the rest.

“What’s mom doing?” Addi asked.

“I guess she really needs to pee!” Corey said and to his nine year old mind this was hilarious.

“Yeah, Mom has to pee!” Joey chimed in, and at seven he thought this was really witty.

But back to me, I locked myself in the little guest bathroom right by the front door of our old three level walk-up townhome. I sat and willed myself to go (Ok, I know this is TMI, but bear with me).

“Well?” Roy called at me from the other side of the door.

“Well what?” I screeched! “Don’t pressure me!”

He laughed and walked away. I turned on the faucet and relaxed. Ok, three minutes, and I will know for sure. I was already imagining a little girl with tiny pigtails and chubby legs running towards Roy. Her older brothers would pick her up and swirl her around while she giggled charmingly.

“Mommy?” came a tiny knock, “Are you done yet? I really have to go potty!”

I opened the door and looked at my youngest, Addi’s luminous brown eyes smiled up at me in thanks, and he ran into the bathroom. Roy peered at me from the kitchen pass thru, a question on his face. I held up three fingers, and he nodded and returned to the freezer and tried to stuff another frozen pizza into our already bursting freezer.

“Ok, mommy. I’m done!” Addi came out and pulled his pants up.

I held up my hand and he gave me five. I bent over to hug him, and he kissed my cheek before running off to play with his older brothers. I walked into the bathroom holding my breath. I said a silent pray and looked at the EPT stick.

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” Roy came up behind me and put his arms around my waist.

“Yes, honey! We’re pregnant!” and I threw my arms around him. This baby wasn’t a surprise pregnancy. This baby was planned from the beginning. We could tell our family, and hopefully they would be happy for us. Roy could come to all of the doctor’s appointments with me, we could pick out bedding, and little clothes. I could proudly show off my belly and waddle around happily with my boys.

Most people can’t find out the sex of the baby until around 22-23 weeks, and for those first few months I will admit it, my mind was occupied with flowers and butterflies. I didn’t want the room overly girly, I decided, but I loved butterflies. Maybe some green and purple butterflies, with a touch of blue? Would that work? I don’t know. I let Roy figure out the hard stuff.

And then one day, when I was about 20 weeks pregnant, and we had sold our townhome and were living in a hotel waiting for our current house to be finished, I convinced Roy to take me shopping at Tyson’s Corner Mall. He reminded me that we were living in a hotel and the two cars as well as the room was already packed, but I wanted to get out of the room, and so we packed up the boys and headed out to the mall. At this age, the boys were still into Disney, and we were wandering around the Disney store with the boys looking at silly toys.

“It’s so crowded in here, Roy. I’m just going to go out front and sit down.”

“Ok, I’ll round them up and meet you out front.”

I walked to the front of the store and spotted an empty bench. Once I reached it, I sat down and sighed. And then I saw him. a little boy with dirty blond hair, and big blue eyes. He was about 18 months old and dressed in little denim overalls, and I knew right then. I wanted a little boy. Oh sure, a little girl would be great, and as long as the baby was healthy, I didn’t care. But a little boy that looked like Roy sure would be great. Had his beautiful eyes, and maybe my dark hair. A little boy with chubby legs and a tiny tummy. I smiled at the little boy as he ran up to me and grabbed my legs.

“I’m so sorry!” his mother said as she ran over to grab him. “When are you due?”

“April.” I answered her and made a silly face at her son.

“Wow! You look great!

For some reason, I never believe this compliment. Perhaps it’s because I feel so fat, and blobbish when I am pregnant. I love it, but I don’t think this is a good look for me.

I laughed, “Thanks! Don’t always feel great though!”

She nodded her head, and wished me luck, as I got up to join Roy and the boys as they came out of the store with a huge bag.

“What did you buy?” I asked.

The boys pulled out a huge stuffed Eeyore dressed in plaid pajamas.

“It’s for the baby, Mom!” Joey exclaimed proudly.

“Well, I am sure he will love it!” I answered and hugged him to me. “Now, can we please go get something to eat?”

“OH! Can we go to the Rainforest Café?” Corey loved to eat, even then.

“Fine. Let’s go see what the wait is.” And I did my best to move the kids along towards the restaurant.

Going to the mall with everyone, especially Tyson’s, is an all day affair. We ate dinner, walked around some more, and then piled back into the car to head back to the hotel.

I don’t know what we did the next day-Sunday. And Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday was all about getting the boys up, getting them fed (free continental breakfast!) and taking Corey and Joey to school. But I remember Wednesday night.

I was going to have my sonogram on Thursday, and I could barely contain my excitement. My stomach was already big, and Roy is tall, so the little beds we were sleeping in didn’t make a good night sleep easy for me to come by. I must have drifted off though, because before I knew it, I was sitting outside. It was a beautiful park, with flowers blooming all around me. I sat down, and suddenly my grandfather was sitting next to me. I don’t remember him, my father’s father, but my mother often told me how wonderful he was. He was a kind, honest hardworking man and I remember a picture of him holding me. He looked so happy, and so much like my father.

“Hi Chrissy,” he said. My grandmother still called me that, even at 29 years old.

“Hi. Who’s baby is that?” I asked him, looking at the tiny little boy he held.

“This is your baby. You know, you’re having another boy right?”

I woke with a start, and turned to soothe Roy as he stirred. I cradled my belly and smiled. I was going to have a boy! Soon after, I got the boys up, and looked out the window, snow blanketed the ground. School was canceled, so the sonogram was going to be a family affair. I pushed Roy out of bed and into the bathroom, which he shuffled over to grunting and groaning at the cold and early hour. The boys were excited, and I think each of them was hoping they would get a little sister. After our standard continental breakfast, waffles and OJ, we all piled into the car to head up to the doctor’s office.

I walked into the office happily. I knew what the technician was going to say. I just wanted confirmation. We signed in and sat down to wait. Luckily there was a small room for the boys with a TV that played cartoons, so they were occupied for the time being. After a short wait, my name was called and I was brought into the room to get ready for the procedure. Roy came back a few minutes later, and sat down next to me. He took my hand, as he always does at times like this, and rubbed my arm tenderly. The technician did his thing, taking measurements, verifying my expected due date, etc. And then he asked the question:

“Do you want to know the sex?”

Roy didn’t mind being surprised, I wanted to know. I wanted to know if my dream was just an overactive imagination coupled with pregnancy hormones, or maybe, just maybe, it was something more.

“I do, yes.” And I squeezed Roy’s hand a little tighter.

“It’s a boy!” and he pointed out the tell tale sign.

Roy laughed, and I felt a tear creep down my cheek. I knew it! My dream was something more than just a dream. Perhaps it’s silly, but I will never forget that. It was a sign. I got up and cleaned up my sticky belly. Roy helped me off the table, and we went out to tell the boys. They laughed too, and Corey asked if the baby was ok. We went outside, piled everyone back into the car, and I called my parents. My mom answered the phone and laughed when I told her it was another boy! She told me she was happy that we were both doing ok, and I hung up. I think we went out for lunch, and probably went back to the hotel to take advantage of the indoor pool. The rest of my pregnancy was uneventful. We moved into our new house, got the two older boys settled into their new school, and I did my best to stay out of Roy’s way as he got the nursery ready. Because we lived so far from my OB (I opted not to switch to someone closer since I was so far along) and my previous boy’s had been big, my doctor decided to induce me. Hayden was scheduled to come into the world on. TAX DAY!

We woke up bright and early that morning and headed to the hospital. Along the way, I called into the hospital. They were packed, and I had to wait to come in! I was NOT happy. I was ready to do this, and I wanted to hold my little boy in my arms. Roy turned the car around, and we went home. I watched Armageddon and fumed. I couldn’t eat anything, and I was starving! Around 9 am we got the call. I was to come in, and they would hold the room for me since we were about 45 minutes away. Like my pregnancy, the delivery was uneventful. They started the Pitocin drip about 10:45, and I settled in for the long day. I remember Roy decided to torture me and watch food network. Wouldn’t you know it, Paula Deen was making pulled pork! Snot!

Anyways, things moved along slowly, but around three I started to feel it. I asked for IV medication, hoping to avoid an epidural. The medication made me loopy. I asked Roy if we had dogs, which we did. I KNEW I sounded ridiculous, but for some reason my mouth wouldn’t cooperate with my brain. After a few hours, I gave up and admitted it. the IV medication wasn’t cutting it, and I was exhausted. I asked for an epidural, and was able to get some sleep. In fact, I had to be woken up and told it was time to push! Got to love modern medicine!

Hayden finally came into this world that evening. He was tiny though, just under eight pounds, but he was perfect. And everyone remarked on how much hair he had! He was an easy baby, and luckily he took to nursing like nobody’s business. In fact, he never lost any weight in the hospital (which is normal for most babies) but gained weight instead! It was a sign of things to come! We went home the next day, and settled in. That first night was rough. He was so little, and I worried. I found myself crying a lot (hormones!) and constantly asking Roy if he thought Hayden was ok. He was fine, though at this point I think Roy was starting to worry about me. My parents brought the boys home two days later, and Roy’s parents brought our dogs home. I decided to cook dinner for everyone. Not sure what I made, but I remember thinking. I just had a baby, why am I doing this? But it was fun! Hayden met his brothers, all his grandparents and our dogs that same day.

The first year of Hayden’s life flew by. I would take him out and people always remarked on his thick head of hair, and asked how old he was. They usually guessed four or five months older than he actually was, and then were surprised when I told them his actually age. He was my big boy! Off the charts in both height and weight for that first year of his life. His first birthday was celebrated at home with just family, and I have tons of pictures with Hayden, chocolate cake, and a really messy face!

Before I knew it, we were debating on whether or not to sign Hayden up for preschool. When we decided that it might, at least, help him become more social it was too late! We were on the waiting list! Time passed, and I figured we didn’t get in, but two days before school was to start I got a phone call. Someone dropped out, and Hayden was in. if we wanted to sign him up, that is! Preschool wasn’t cheap, but I thought at the very least he would make some friends, and I would get a few hours to myself. He was shy those first few weeks, but eventually, he settled in. And then it was time for him to start his four year old preschool classes! It was more of the same thing, he was shy at first, but eventually he settled in and made a few good friends. Dean was about seven months old when Hayden started his second year of preschool, and my Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings were crazy! Rushing to get the three older boys off to school, trying to get Hayden fed and dressed, nursing the baby, hoping I looked semi-decent at drop off. Luckily Roy works from home, so more often than not, he was up and could tend to Dean while I dropped Hayden off at preschool.

Before I knew it, it was April of 2009, and it was time to sign Hayden up for kindergarten. The way they handle sign ups in our neck of the woods is that parents fill out all the necessary paperwork, and the children are taken to another room with a teacher and tested on their skills. This did not go well. First off, we had to wait for about two hours, so Hayden was restless. Second, he didn’t know the person doing the testing, so he was scared and did not want to follow her. Third, since he was scared and shy, he didn’t want to answer some of the questions and that lowered his score. I already knew he didn’t know how to read, but he is very quiet when he doesn’t know you. I almost laughed when I was given his test score- 32 out of 100. I knew what Roy would say!

“Are you kidding me?” he asked me when I gave him the test paper. “I spent all that money for play dates, right? Dean is NOT going to that preschool!”

I laughed. Yep. I was right. knew he was going to say that!

The first day of kindergarten was so hard for me! Hayden was my little guy. and I had to put him on a bus and send him away! But at least he had Addi to show him the ropes and watch out for him on the bus. We got lucky and Hayden’s teacher for kindergarten was a lovely, young lady. She was kind, but firm and had more patience than anyone I had ever met. Just what Hayden needed! His reading teacher was equally wonderful! Encouraging, funny and engaging. Hayden’s report cards reflected his growing confidence, and by the fourth quarter he had earned a promotion in his reading class! I can’t tell you how nice it was to go into a conference because our child was doing so well the teacher wanted to make sure we knew, rather than our child is being a pain in the butt! As we try to get Hayden ready for first grade, I am filled with jitters. Addi is starting middle school, so Hayden is on his own. Roy tells me I am silly and that Hayden will do just fine, and although my head knows that, my heart is just sad to see my little guy growing up so quickly!

Our son Addi is eleven right now. I remember eleven. I was old enough to get my military ID card.a really cool thing back then. 1985 to be exact. I had a little sister, she was almost five, and I was just starting to get really serious about my swim career. Something that I would carry with me for the rest of my life, but I digress.

This is about Addi. Roy Addison D (presenting last name as D here) was born on March 18, 1999. Just four days after my 25th birthday. He was early, and Roy and I weren’t prepared. We had started to prepare, started to realize that even though this was early in our relationship, we were going to have a baby. A baby that we both wanted, and that we swore to love, cherish and protect. I went into labor on the 17th, but like all my other labors this one was sporadic. The contractions were all over the place, they were never consistent, some would hurt and have me doubling over in pain, others were more like an annoyance. An itchy bug bite. But at about 5 AM, I couldn’t deny that something serious was going on.I was bleeding, and felt so sick. A fear was clutching at my stomach, something was wrong with our baby.

I woke Roy up.

“Something is wrong. Please take me in.” I said this to him through my tears, through the pain.

He jumped right up, and took my hand, lead me into the other room and helped me put on some clothes. Once we were both dressed, he helped me down the stairs. I remember that his hand on my back was so light, so gentle, but I knew without a doubt that he wouldn’t let me fall. We went outside and he helped me into the car. I could see the control on his face, the desire to slam on the gas, but he held back. Reminding me to breath, telling me with his eyes that it would be ok.we were in this together. We got to the hospital and I remember a bunch of questions, I remember thinking it was too early, that something was wrong.

A few hours later, Addi was here. Roy held him, and kissed his toes, his little hands, his head. He would hand him to me with such tenderness. We brought Addi home three days later. It was a quiet homecoming. Roy’s dad was there, (Jerry, but more on this amazing man later) and he took Addi from us, held him and laughed with him. To this day he still teases Roy’s mom (Sandy, again more on THIS amazing woman later) that he finally got to hold a grandbaby first! From the very beginning he had a special bond with Addi. We have countless pictures of the two of them napping together-Jerry sleeping in his recliner and Addi curled up on his chest. Addi’s first few months were filled with so much, he brought such joy to the house, so man smiles, so many happy tears, but he also had some health issues that luckily cleared themselves up as he became older and stronger!

It was almost funny, I nursed him for about six months, and that went well, but eventually Roy and I made the decision to move him to formula, and we tried EVERYTHING! Formula with Iron, Low Iron, Soy, different brands, but had no luck. Everything seemed to upset his stomach. I was worried, and one night Roy’s mom told us to go out.get something to eat and relax. We were running out of formula, so I figured we could pick some up and then maybe eat a quick dinner. All through dinner, Ruby Tuesday’s, I was itching to get home to our little boys. But Roy’s parents never called saying he needed us, so I tried to relax. I got home expecting Addi to be starving, but all was quiet as we walked in the door. Roy’s mother jumped up to tell us what happened:

“He was so hungry, but I wanted you to relax, so I gave him just a bit of whole milk, and he drank it all! No, vomiting..nothing! So, I gave him a bit more and still nothing!”

He was only about 8 months, and traditionally, you don’t start a baby on milk until they are about a year older, but I couldn’t deny that he loved it, and he was able to keep it all down! We went with our guts, and it turned out well. Addi started to gain weight again, he slept better, and didn’t have as much gas! (Bet he will love me sharing that little tidbit!)

When Addi was about nine months old we moved out of Roy’s parents’ house and into our first home. It was a nice sized townhome, a bit older, across town. We took such pride in fixing it up. Painting it, putting up curtains, moving our furniture in. Addi took his first steps in our dining room. Roy was holding him, and I knelt down and held out my arms. He reached out to me and took two steps. He fell on his little, diapered butt and started laughing as Roy, Corey, Joey and I cheered for him. He was such a happy baby. Always laughing, so easy going.

When Addi turned four Roy and I signed him up for preschool at one of the local preschools. He loved it.Roy took him on his first field trip to a corn maze. They had ice cream, got lost amongst the corn stalks and took plenty of pictures. I was pregnant with Hayden at the time, and Roy started to take a long hard look at our house. It was getting crowded, and the boys were only getting bigger. He found a beautiful home, but it was a little out of our price range, but then he heard about the same type of community a bit further out. He drove out to check it out, told me that he thought this might be a real possibility for us. We drove out there that weekend, and I immediately fell in love. This was a small, but growing town. There was a beautiful park right near our house, good schools, and everything a young family needed to put down roots.

We bought our house and would visit often to check on the progress. We closed on our townhouse the day before Thanksgiving 2003 and moved into a local extended stay hotel. For a month we lived out of suitcases, but we had a lot of laughs, and I look back on that month fondly. I am not sure if the kids do, and I don’t think Roy does, but it was a time filled with excitement and anticipation.

On December 18, 2003 we closed on our new house. We had nothing in the house, but I was determined to spend that first night in our new home. Roy was worried about me sleeping on the floor, and I admit I got very little sleep that night, but I didn’t care. We were in our new home. Me being pregnant, I had to go to the bathroom often, and I remember I stumbled into the bathroom at about 4 am, turned on the light, sat down and then realized that we had no blinds on the two HUGE windows in our bathroom. Next time, I was using the kid’s bathroom, and I made a mental note to go to Lowe’s or Home Depot the next day to get some blinds. As I was finishing up (sorry for the graphic image) I hear a little knock on the door.

“Mommy! Addi puked on me!”

I opened the door to find Corey looking at me with sleepy eyes, “Are you serious? You aren’t playing some silly game?”

He shook his head and took me by the hand, and brought me into the room that would be his. “See!” And he pointed at my little boy sleeping on the floor.

I could barely make him out in the dim moonlight, so I had Corey turn on the hall light. As light flooded the room, sure enough I could see my Addi, struggling not to cry, while he sat up with vomit all over him.

“Oh, honey. Are you ok?” I asked him as I ran over to pick him up.

He clung to me and I could feel him weakly shake his head, “My tummy hurts mommy.” I rubbed his back, and brought him into the bathroom.

Luckily we had towels in the car, they hadn’t been washed yet, but they were better than nothing. Unsure of whether or not to wake up my husband, but not wanting to keep the boys up, I decided it was time to get Roy. I had Corey go wake up his dad, and a few minutes later he came into the bathroom.

“Everything ok?” He asked me, and I shook my head.

“Addi isn’t feeling good, he threw up all over Corey’s room. Watch him while I go out to the car to get the new towels.” And I moved so that Roy could sit by our miserable son.

As I walked down the stairs, I heard my husband softly talking to Addi, offering soothing words and promising to take care of him. A few minutes later I returned with the towels, Roy tenderly picked him up out of the tub and held him out to me.

“Here, hon. Dry him off and I will go clean up the mess.”

I got Addi dried off and put him in one of Roy’s old shirts, as Roy moved the boys into another room. When he got their little bed fixed up, I put them down and tucked them all in.

I smoothed the hair back from each of their foreheads, and told them to come get me if Addi gets sick again. They slept the rest of the night.

The next few weeks were filled with painting, unpacking and getting the kids ready for their new school. While Roy painted the kitchen, Addi put blush all over my face. (Yes, we have pictures of this). Roy works from home and as he set up his office, Addi took greatly delight in feeling his brother move in my rapidly expanding stomach. (Yep, got pictures of that too!) And before I knew it, it was time to take Addi to my parents’ house, and for me to check into the hospital.

Roy and I met my mom for lunch, and she assured us that everyone would be fine. To take care and let them know how everything went. I waved good bye to my boys with a tear in my eye. The next time I saw us, it wouldn’t be the five of us anymore, we would be a family of six.

After Hayden was born, more on that in Hayden’s story, my mom brought them to the hospital. Addi ran in my room, and climbed right on the bed with Hayden and I. He looked at the tiny baby in my arms with interest.

“Ohhh.he’s so pretty mommy!” I will never forget those words, uttered with the awe you can only find in those too young to know better.

“He is isn’t he? Just like you!” And I leaned over to kiss my little boy. He giggled and touched his new brother with care.

The next few months were spent getting the boys adjusted to having a baby in the house again, but more exciting to Addi was getting ready to ride the bus to school-our little boy was heading off to kindergarten. We let him pick out a special backpack for school (a red one from Land’s End with his initials on it, and a colorful spider) and a new outfit. Khaki shorts and a red polo shirt. On the morning of the first day of school, Addi woke up bright and early. He put on his new outfit, and brought his book bag down the stairs with him. I was in the kitchen getting breakfast ready.

“Addi! You look so handsome!” I struggled to keep the tears out of my voice.

He looked at me with a serious face, “Thank you mommy. I’m ready for school.”

My normally rowdy little boy sat down in his chair and waited patiently for me to bring him his breakfast. I brought his toast and juice over to him and stood near him as he ate.

“Are you ok? Are you nervous?” I asked him, brushing the little wisps of hair from his eyes.

“Nope, I’m good. Thanks for the toast.” And he ate, while I hurried around the kitchen getting things for their lunch boxes, and trying to nurse Hayden who had woken up after hearing all the fuss. Just then Roy came down the stairs and took Hayden, who I was trying to burp, for me so I could finish up lunches and get them out to the bus stop. “Are you sure you guys are ok? You have your bags? Your lunch?” I asked the three older boys as they stood on the porch waiting for the bus to rumble down the road. Our oldest, Corey, answered for them all. “Mom it’s cool. We’re good.”

I sighed, and shrugged my shoulders, “Ok.well, you guys have a good day. And one of you sit with Addi on the bus ok? Make sure he gets off the bus this afternoon.”

Roy and I kissed each of the boys good bye and watched as they walked across the street to the bus stop. Corey held Addi’s hand, and whispered to him as they crossed the street. I heard Addi laugh, and I felt defeated.

“Hey, none of that.” I felt Roy tug on my ponytail.

I shrugged him away, and turned my head so he wouldn’t see the tear falling down my face. I had just sent another piece of my heart away-off to school.

The years passed quickly and before I knew it Corey and Joey were in middle school and Addi was in third grade. I had convinced Roy to give the baby roller coaster one more shot, and I was heavily pregnant with our last baby. Addi had been diagnosed with ADHD in the second grade and after much research and even more discussion Roy and I made the decision to medicate Addi. It isn’t an easy decision, but after just a few weeks we saw huge results! His grades improved, his behavior was better, and his teacher remarked that he was interacting with the other students better. We never looked back on our decision, and I never felt the need to become defensive about it again.

When Dean was born, Addi reacted much in the same way as he did when Hayden was born. He was in awe of this tiny little boy. Roy brought Corey, Addi and Hayden to the hospital to visit me (Joey was visiting his biological father) and Addi was filled with concern. For me and for the baby. He kept asking if I was ok, if I was hurting, and how Dean was.

There are moments when Addi drives us crazy. He can talk a mile a minute, and he can keep that up all day. His energy is boundless, and I don’t know if there was ever a time when I could keep up with him, but there are moments when you can look at Addi and see just how truly he loves his family. How big his heart is, and how full of kindness and concern he truly is. When he is trying our patience, when he isn’t listening I try and remember the little boy who told me how pretty his brothers were, and who held my hand and rubbed my back for me when I was pregnant. And in just a few days he will start middle school. He graduated from elementary school, and is about to start a new chapter in life. Sixth grade, a time of new challenges, lockers, switching classes and finding someplace to sit in the cafeteria. As proud as I am, I won’t lie and say that a part of me isn’t sad.he isn’t my little boy anymore, but my big sixth grader!

Joe came into this world on a crazy day!  We were living in Tampa, Florida at the time, and my mom, knowing things were rough, came down to help.  I was overdue with Joe (again!) and they had scheduled me to be induced.  On January 15^th, bright and early, my ex and I got up to head to the hospital.  Things were moving along as planned when a nurse stuck her head in and said that my mom was at the Emergency Room!  What?  I was scared. Was Corey hurt?  Was my mom ok?

Turns out, my mom was trying to fix the blinds on the sliding glass door and slipped off the chair.   She tried to brace herself and ended up breaking her wrist.  I told my ex to run across the street and see if everything was ok, I would be fine alone.  About an hour later he comes back to my room carrying Corey.  I was getting ready to start pushing, and about ten minutes later, Joe was brought into this world!  The thing I remember is he screamed immediately and Corey popped out his pacifier and offered it up to his new baby brother.

Since the birth was uneventful, I was sent home the next day.  What follows pretty much mirrors what I said yesterday in Corey’s story.  Things were hard for me and having two babies didn’t make it any easier, but instead of rehashing that, I will jump ahead to July 1999 when Corey and Joe came up to Virginia to live with Roy, Addi, and I.

Corey was getting ready to start kindergarten, and Joe would be home with Addi and me.  He was such a sweet little boy, so shy and quiet.  He took immediately to Roy’s parents, and settled happily into life in Virginia.  My parents didn’t live too far away, so we could go visit them.  Occasionally I would take the boys up to Roy’s work for lunch.  And before I knew it, December was upon us, and we were moving into our own home across town.  I always understood Joe, and in the rush of moving, taking care of Roy and the boys, it never dawned on me that Joe MIGHT have a speech problem.  Eventually, Roy and I got to the point where we thought perhaps some testing should be done BEFORE he entered the public school system, so I started the crazy process of getting him tested, and when the results came back-that he COULD benefit from some speech therapy-I made sure to get him to class up the road.  Luckily, he only went twice a week, and the therapist worked with him around his preschool schedule.

Once Joe settled into the preschool three days a week, and therapy twice a week, he thrived!  He made new friends in school and had a blast.  It was a co-operative preschool, so not only was the tuition very reasonable, but I volunteered twice a month, so I got to see what he was doing and participate in activities with him.  After his preschool graduation, we signed him up for kindergarten with confidence.  I would walk them up to the bus stop and put him and Corey on the bus together.  Addi and I would wave and look for them in the windows as the bus pulled away.  Things were good for us, and once again, before I knew it, we were moving into a bigger house in December 2003.

Joe was in second grade when we moved, and while he didn’t have any issues adjusting to his new school, making friends, or fitting in, he isn’t the type to get excited about things like this.  He enjoyed having his own room in the new house and liked helping us paint it (all the boys picked out their colors!).  I liked that our new town was smaller, less hurried, and hoped it would give us a chance to slow down.

For the most part it did, though I am still high strung on occasion!  Joe entered our town’s soapbox derby two years in a row!  I know what you’re thinking… how cool is that!  Roy and I pictured the Little Rascals…  Looking through junk to cobble something together, hoping it would make it down the hill… nope, wrong!  These are kit cars that you can either buy (and people do, going all out with paint, etc.) or you can be ‘sponsored’ by a local business that happens to have a car.  Joe raced for one of the volunteer fire departments. Despite all of the work getting the car in racing condition, he didn’t win.  But he did well, and most importantly he had a great time doing it!

One of the biggest differences between Corey and Joe is that Joe is more of a self starter when it comes to school.  Both boys do very well in their classes, but for the most part, Joe didn’t need that little push that Corey sometimes does.  Because of that, Joe sailed right through elementary school and sixth and seventh grade, and then we hit eighth grade… I think it’s because Joe became interested more in his games and friends, but his last quarter didn’t’ go as smoothly as school usually does for him.  He needed some reminders, and a bit more encouragement to get things done.  A few threats were probably uttered as well - no more games, no more phone, no more this, that, and the other!  But he ‘graduated’ middle school with a solid GPA and is now getting ready to start high school!

I was worried that he would be nervous, but he is excited!  One thing that he is eagerly looking forward to is his Military Science class (just another name for JROTC in this case).  Over the summer, there was an orientation class, and he did great!  In fact he did so well during his PT exercises that he told us some of the older cadets suggested that they might recommend him for the PT team!  We were so proud of him.  Like his older brother, I hope Joe meets the new challenges of high school with a head on type of attitude.  Not shying away from new experiences and pushing himself to reach his full potential.  He knows that Roy and I will be there for him, and his older brother is there to offer some ‘words of wisdom,’ but most of all, I hope he looks to the future with excitement and anticipation.  I know I do!

I was young when Corey was born, 20 to be exact, and I thought I was ready for a newborn.  I went into labor on July 5th, 1994 and what a night that was!  I delivered him in a military hospital after 10 hours of pushing, yep 10 hours of PUSHING.  Not labor, but PUSHING.  It got to the point where a specialist had to be brought in, and it turns out my little guy was turned the wrong way.  They need a specialist to figure that out?  Eventually forceps were used, and finally Corey was laid in my exhausted arms.  Delivering in a military hospital is a lot different than a private hospital.  I was in a room with three other women, which meant three other families were coming in and out of the room.

I was there for two days, and on the third day it was time to go home.  Boy, was that an experience.  I so wanted to nurse, but didn’t know what I was doing, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I just wasn’t producing enough milk, so eventually I gave into my fears and made Corey a bottle.  After that, it was smooth sailing.  Corey was the sweetest little boy.  Precocious, funny, and quite the mama’s boy… Is that a bad thing to be… I don’t know!  He was crawling at five months and walking at nine.  Shortly after that, he was crawling out of his crib.

When Corey was about 15 months old, my husband at the time lost his job and decided to pack us up and move to Florida.  I was pregnant with Joe at that point but tried to look at the move as an adventure.  For a few years we toiled in Florida.  Never quite getting ahead, never really finding my place in the area.  I was young and unhappy.  I had two little boys, no car, little money and felt as if I didn’t belong.  Eventually my marriage to Corey and Joe’s father fell apart, and my parents suggested I move home and get my life together.  The plan was to have the boys stay with my ex for a few months until I got on my feet again.  I went home after our separation was made legal (and then shortly after that our divorce was legal as well) and found a job, sought therapy and went about making my life something better, something more stable, and learning to be happy.

As mentioned before, I met my current husband, we dated (though I knew on our second date I would fall in love with him, I did so on our third date, and I knew I would marry him by our fourth), and made our own life.  Soon we added Addi to the family, and in July of 1999, Corey and Joe came to live with us.  At that point we were living with Roy’s parents, saving for a house of our own, but they welcomed Corey and Joe with open arms (more on them later!)  They told me once, that it was our home (meaning all of us, not just theirs, and they let us live there), and they made room for the older boys in their home and their hearts.

But back to my oldest guy!  Corey started kindergarten shortly after he came up from Florida.  He excelled from the get go.  His teachers said he was a natural leader.  He picked up new subjects quickly and with relish, and when we moved across town to our own house in December of 1999, he switched schools happily, choosing to see it as an adventure.  He made friends easily and enjoyed school.  He was happy at home, playing with his brothers, and helping me where he could.  Before you know it, I was pregnant with Hayden and after returning from a vacation-filled summer (Disney World AND Germany all in the same month!). And then Roy and I decided it was time to buy a bigger house.  Corey was right in the middle of fourth grade, but since he was so eager to have his own room, he couldn’t wait to make the move!

2003 was a year of new beginnings.  A new house, a new baby on the way, a new job for me (I was coaching full time at this point), and new schools for the two older boys.  I have always been proud of the fact that the boys don’t shy away from  big changes in their lives-whether it be moving, or welcoming a new baby into the family.  They don’t balk at the idea of change nor do they resort to temper tantrums or the silent treatment.  They simply see change as a part of life and welcome it.  Corey has learned to do this, and we are proud of him for doing so.

Middle school was a challenge for Corey.  For the first time he had to learn to work for good grades, not everything came as easily as it did in elementary school, and learning to study was a challenge for him.  He got involved with the drama program and ended up with the lead in the school play the year he was in seventh grade, which also happened to be the year he decided to dye his dirty blond hair black, but hey, it’s only hair!  Eighth grade passed in a blur, and before we knew it, high school was upon us.

Corey entered high school on a warm August day.  I watched him get on that bus and thought, “In four years, will I be saying good bye to him as he watches me leave from his dorm room?  Will he join the military?”  I wondered what the future would hold for him.  Ninth grade was a time of adjustment for Corey, he started to figure out who he was, what he liked and didn’t like.  He started to grasp that his future would be effected by the choices he made.  And then things started to go crazy.

In January of 2009, speaking only from my side and observations here, Corey hit a rough patch with his biological father.  I can’t be sure what was said.  Corey has his version, my ex has his, even his wife has one, but what we do know is that Corey got off a phone call with his father in tears.  His phone was in pieces on the floor of his room, and he was shaking.  Roy and I comforted him for close to two hours that night, and let him stay home and relax the next day.  I have nursed my boys through many a cold, bout with the flu, broken bones, etc… and I don’t know if I have ever seen Corey as distraught as he was that night.  Roy and I did our best not to take sides, but when my son tells me he can’t even work up the energy to talk to his biological father, well, I knew something serious was up.  What followed were months of nasty emails, anger (on my part), tears (on my part… and Corey’s at times), soothing and logical words (Roy), and being caught in the middle (Joe).  Eventually, it got to the point where Corey made the decision to not talk to his biological father.  Roy and I decided it was our job to support his decision, but ensure he understood the effects.  Now, don’t get me wrong… I don’t actively seek out ways to hurt my ex.  He is their father, and he loves them, BUT Corey is 16, and I don’t want my son to turn 18 and walk away from his entire family, trying to escape us as a burden.  Roy and I tried to do our best, we tried to explain to the boys that they have their own voice, their own opinions, and their choices have consequences and repercussions much greater than their own little bubble, and I felt that I had gotten to the point where pushing Corey to reconcile with his father was doing more harm than good.  What position do I leave my son in if he feels that he can’t talk to me either?  And let’s be honest, at his age do I really need to act as a go between or facilitator any more?  He isn’t a baby, he is a young man (whether we want to admit that or not).  So, for the past 18 months, we have been helping Corey work through anger at his father, apathy, feelings of disgust, etc., and all the while hoping he realizes that he still has to deal with school, friends, sports, etc.

Now, at 16 and about to enter his junior year of high school, Corey is (hopefully) starting to see that his future is upon him.  Before he knows it, he will be getting ready to start his senior year, and he will have to make a decision about college.  He has shown some skill in the kitchen and expressed an interest in possibly pursuing a culinary school education.  On the other hand, he loves history and has mentioned maybe being a teacher.  Either way, Roy and I are starting to see that shifting gears from driver’s ed to potty training isn’t always easy, but it’s just part of the day to day life in our house.

Hopefully, this year will be one of learning for Corey.  And not just in school.  I hope he learns that he has a voice, and that it is ok if he uses it.  I hope he continues to find his way in the world and learns that being happy is something we choose (a hard lesson for me, and I hope it doesn’t take the boys 30+ years to get there).  But most of all I hope he learns to be a good driver… cause driving him around to all his sporting events, staying up late to get him from friends’ houses, and late night swim meets is getting old!