Clara's kitchen

We've been a little busy lately, but it was well worth it...

Clara got her early birthday present - a play kitchen! She's actually known about it for months. She was calling it her "kitchen" since it was an old wood entertainment center. 

And here's what it looked like as that old entertainment center, when we got it for free - FREE! - off of Craigslist. And, of course, here's the "after" too...

A lot of work was put into it and I have my wonderful, patient, amazing, kind, generous husband to thank for that.

Oh, that picture brings back memories of when we were young and naive and didn't realize what we were in for.

Just kidding, but it was a ton of work. Did I already mention that??

None of that mattered, though, when we showed her the finished project. There was lots of woooooow's and oooooooh's.

And she plays with it constantly, just like I hoped.

She loves cooking with the food and pots and pans that her Nana and Boppy got her for her birthday...

And she'll get even more play food tomorrow on her birthday. So fun!

So here are some of the details...

I got the idea from other play kitchens I saw online, and set out to do one myself. You really can't follow any sort of pattern, though, because every entertainment center (or end table, cabinet, or whatever old piece of furniture you use) is different. So we winged it. And, I should add, neither of us are particularly skilled in this department. The painting I can handle, but the construction? Not so much. But we plowed through.

First we sanded down the veneer, and primed. Then we did about a million other steps.

I debated getting a real faucet (you can get small ones made for campers or bars), but in the end we decided to go a little more whimsical. I found a $0.30 letter "U" on clearance and we cut it to be the perfect faucet. The base is a $0.50 piece of craft wood and we painted both that and the faucet with silver paint. The handles are drawer pulls, which cost about $4 each...

The sink is a mixing bowl we already had. We just cut a hole for it to sit in.

The burners are just craft wood, which I painted. And the knobs are more drawer pulls...

The oven opens out and there's an LED light inside. The oven rack is actually one of those things you put in your sink, held on with hooks. I tried cooling racks but couldn't find the right size.

I painted a window on a $0.50 piece of wood and made little curtains. The hooks are a key rack (and the adorable pig whisk and spatula are actually real utensils, although I'm not sure who needs ones that small!).

We had to make a door for the fridge (and the oven), which was one of the most complicated parts of the project...

You never know what you'll find in the fridge...

We really don't have any idea what the total cost was, but suffice it to say it was way cheaper than if we had bought one. And if we had bought it, we wouldn't have been able to take advantage of all that problem-solving we had to work through as a couple... and our kids wouldn't have had to fend for themselves all those weekend days... and our deck wouldn't be covered in paint. Haha.. no, really. There is no price we could put on watching Clara and Luke play with this kitchen. Worth every second.

Happy early second birthday, sweet Clara. And don't expect a big homemade tool bench or anything next year, Lukie. Mommy and Daddy are tapped out.

A very happy birthday... so why am I crying?

It started yesterday at the grocery store. I was perfectly fine until I reached the wrapping paper. That's when I lost it.

Shocked at my sudden emotion, I had to laugh. But that was just the beginning.

I got choked up when Ryan told our waitress today at lunch that it was Lukie's birthday. And then again several times in the confines of our own home.

What's wrong with me? I'm hoping you'll all tell me I'm perfectly normal.

The weirdest part is I'm not sad. Well, maybe on some deep level I'm sad that he's inching away from baby-hood (I'm not ready to admit he's not still a baby). But I also think I'm crying because I'm happy.

I'm happy that he's here and happy and healthy. It's not lost on me how incredibly blessed we are to have two healthy babies sleeping under our roof tonight.

I'm also probably emotional because time is moving way too fast. It seems like just yesterday I was giving birth to him. Those memories are so fresh that it just doesn't seem possible it's been a whole year.

More than anything, though, I think I'm crying because it's an important milestone and there are a lot of emotions that got us to this point.

I also should probably admit it has a something to do with it being the first of many times that I'll be reminded he's growing up and will one day leave me. Actually, it's the second time that made me cry. The first was when he transitioned from our bed to his crib. Oh, our little independent boy.

Anyway, it's not about me, it's about Luke's big day. So I'll try to hold it together to post some birthday pics of our ONE year old.


It was a beautiful, 70-degree day for Luke's birthday...

Between two children taking a total of three naps, lunch out and then evening Mass, we didn't get to presents until about 7:30. Here Luke's saying, "FINALLY! Let's get this party started!"

Clara showing her baby brother the ropes...

I can't tell you how excited he was about this tool belt. It's as if he was saying, "It's about TIME! What does it take to get some boy toys around here???"

I was stunned to discover that all the presents I picked out were a HUGE hit - with both kids! They are so into them!

Okay, maybe it was because they were majorly hopped up on sugar.

And his big boy present from Nana and Boppy...

Tool belt? Check. ATV? Check. Okay, now I'm ready to be a one-year-old.

The adoption option

I realized when I read over my last post that I left something out. In all this talk about wanting Baby #3 and getting pregnant, I didn't discuss why pregnancy was the obvious option for us, rather than adoption.

As a mother through adoption and my own womb, I can say that both are equal in my eyes. I would hate for it to come off as me thinking that we adopted because we "had" to, and now that we conceived once, that is obviously the preferred method of adding to our family in the future. That just isn't the case.

So why do I talk merely about conceiving again?

Well, first and foremost, the cost. We still owe some money to those who helped finance our first adoption (which became more than three times the cost of what we had planned for through our agency). We had hoped to finish paying it off when we receive our adoption tax credit - which, if it came, would likely arrive a year from now - but I am growing increasingly doubtful that we will ever see a cent (it's complicated, but because of the short turn-around, family members gave us money orders to pay with, instead of the money entering our account first. I'm nervous that will disqualify us). We'll be fine; we'll pay the remaining debt back with our regular tax return next Spring. But the adoption tax credit would have left us with additional funds to put towards a future adoption.

If we didn't have Luke, I'd probably be in a state of emotional turmoil right now. I'd surely have done the math a thousand times. Clara would be turning two and the earliest we could get back on the waiting list would be next fall (that is assuming we miraculously received the tax credit). Then the wait would be at least a year, if not two or more. That means Clara might be five before we welcomed a new baby. I know, not the worst thing in the world by any means, but I'm sure I wouldn't be handling it well. Yes, it would be easier since we already had one child, but we'd be getting up there in age and that would make me very anxious.

And that's if we received the tax credit. If we didn't, who knows when we'd be able to afford another adoption.

I have a really hard time when money keeps people from adopting; it just seems so unfair. I've seen other bloggers go through it and it's just heartbreaking. So I am thankful to God every single day that I conceived and don't have to deal with the theoretical alternative life I would be living right now if I hadn't.

So, with that in mind, getting pregnant is our best option. Even with pregnancy and delivery costs, it doesn't compare.

On a side note, though, a friend and I were talking about adoption the other day and she mentioned how someone said adoption was the easiest pregnancy she'd ever had. Well, as someone who has gone through both, I can say they were equally as tough for me. One caused me physical pain, the other emotional. I might even say that my pregnancy, even with excruciating back pain, was easier.

The labor, though, well that might be another story. It's not that my labor was so bad, it's just that the hours and minutes leading up to Clara were pure bliss. Instead of being strapped in a hospital bed, I was crying happy tears as we rounded corners in a Louisiana neighborhood. I will never forget it.

And that's how it should be, because the adoption wait sure isn't easy.

So while pregnancy and adoption are equal in my mind, they are very different. We may have luck conceiving again and we may not. No matter what, though, I hope and pray we can adopt again because, after all, why wouldn't I want to do something again that turned out so well the first time?

Trusting again

I want another baby. 

Every time I hear of someone in labor, or see photos of the new little one (which seems to be a lot lately), I get so excited and long to be there again myself. I crave being in the hospital bed, post-delivery, new baby sleeping in my arms, family all around, food brought on trays. 

Okay, you might think that last one is kind of crazy, but for whatever reason I absolutely loved being in the hospital after having Luke. Yes, there were tough times, like the two days of relentless itching that I thought was going to drive me to insanity (I woke up one day with deep scratches up and down my arms and thought I had been attacked). And those oh-so-lovely and private (sarcasm, of course) showers that the nurse would give me, me standing there completely nude while we both tried desperately to keep my huge incision, that was only kept closed with a bunch of big staples, dry. Or the time I thought the front of my pants had gotten wet from standing at the sink only to discover my incision was gushing blood. 

None of that deters my longing, though, to be in that hospital room, with a newly named baby, getting to know his or her beautiful, puffy face. I want to be back there so bad. 

But, at the same time, I am okay with where I am. It's so completely different from the years of waiting. I want it, but I'm okay with not having it right now. I can't say I don't feel some disappointment every month, but the let-down is in a different stratosphere than before. I'm trying to get used to that. It's like the muscle-memory of my brain wants to be upset every time a new cycle starts. It doesn't know any different. 

The desire is definitely there, though. I'd love to be pregnant again soon... or, better yet, now.

Yesterday, I had an appointment with my endocrinologist. She tried to gently talk me out of trying again so soon. "Enjoy Luke while he's a baby." "He's only young once!" I didn't show how offended that made me. Does she think I didn't enjoy Clara? She was much younger when I found out I was pregnant with Luke. Does she think I am just so baby-crazy that I just want to pop them out and move on to the next one? Luke turns one next week, for goodness sake. He'd be nearly two if I became pregnant tomorrow. 

I just smiled and tried to explain to her that because of my history with infertility, I don't know how long it will take me to conceive the next child. That I'd like to be proactive and find out if anything is wrong again and deal with it head on. 

What I didn't say was that I want a big family. That I want lots of siblings for Clara and Luke. That, in my opinion, Luke coming along was the best thing that could have happened to Clara. That I love each and every baby with all of my heart and I want more of them because of the unique miracle that each one is. That I don't believe in contraception and I don't have a good reason to avoid. Or, how about that I don't want to avoid? 

But, as I left her office, I decided to take some insight from what she said, if not what she meant. 

Her "slow down" message is a good one, but only because it seems to be exactly what God is trying to tell me at the moment. My doctor might have been telling me to choose to wait, but God is telling me to choose to trust.

Slow down, don't worry about the future, enjoy the two you have, trust in My plan. So that's what I'm going to do (and finding out that the clock hasn't started ticking on secondary infertility because I am breast-feeding helps a lot).

I'll probably still day-dream of kissing my new baby's head for the very first time, and of getting waited on hand and foot by the amazing nurses in the post-partum unit, but I'll also try to remember how bad I itched, just for good measure. I'll also remember, as I do each and every day, how incredibly blessed I already am, and how I have more now than I thought I'd ever have in my lifetime. And I'll remember how there are so many still waiting, the least I can do is offer up my much-easier wait for them. 

It might have taken my secular doctor to get the message through to me in a round-about way, but I'm choosing to trust that God's plan for my family is best. It actually sounds rather silly of me to proclaim that, after all that has happened. It's like declaring your belief in God after seeing Him with your own eyes. 

So this time I have no excuses. And I'm actually looking forward to it. Giving it all to Him means I can slow down, relax, and let Him work. What a wonderfully freeing feeling. 

Birthday preps

As I mentioned before, I am knee-deep in preparations for our fast-approaching dual birthday celebration. I honestly have no idea where the burst of energy is coming from, but I'm not asking questions. Granted, some things have fallen by the wayside while I jump from one project to the next, like the four laundry baskets of clean laundry that my dear sweet husband is folding as I type this (although, let's be honest, I always put off folding the laundry. I have already decided for Lent this year I'm going to fold every article of clothing as soon as it comes out of the dryer. That's penance!)

Before you get the impression I'm putting on some big elaborate party, I should reassure you that's not the case. I'm just working on a couple little homemade details - things I wanted to buy but instead decided to make in an effort to save money - that require gluing and/or sewing. And it's just that anything at all is a big production for me.

Most of my projects are works in progress, but I completed one tonight. Here it is, modeled by its new owner:

I was happy with it, except it was a bit revealing. She's wearing monogrammed bloomers in the photo, which are cute, but they still looked too much like underwear for a soon-to-be two-year-old. So tonight I hemmed a pair of pink velour pants to be little shorts and they work perfectly underneath. And, in case you're interested, it cost me about $7 to make, although I think I could've found the tulle for cheaper if I had tried.

Clara loves it, although I think she loves the word even more, excitedly proclaiming "Tutu! Tutu!" to anyone who will listen. And, like any true girl, she knows this big frilly thing around her waist is somehow pretty and special.

Now it's hanging in her closet, not to be touched until their party. If their Halloween costumes were any indication, things I make don't last too long in the hands of babies.

It was them

Last night as I tried to fall asleep, my thoughts drifted, as they often do, to my babies. I thought about how they are my world and how, at the risk of sounding completely cliche, I had no idea I was capable of loving this much. And how I had no idea two little people could make me this insanely happy. I am just madly, madly in love with them both.

And then it hit me. For the first time in almost two years, since I was plucked from my despair and sadness, I thought about something I used to think about a lot in the more than five years I suffered through infertility: During those difficult years, I often said I missed the babies I couldn't yet have. I grieved for them. I longed to be with them. It wasn't just an abstract idea of wanting to be a mother. My heart actually ached for my babies.

And now they're here. And that ache has been replaced by all the love a heart can possibly hold.

It was them all along. I don't know if it's theologically correct, or what is actually plausible, but I feel like I knew them even before they were here. Most people probably don't have a lot of time to think about that; when they decide they want to be parents, it happens. But I had five long years to dwell on what, or rather who, was missing. And I thought about it a lot. I didn't know exactly who they were, what gender, or how many, but I knew my heart cried out for them.

For whatever reason, I hadn't given it a thought since first finding out about Clara. My world changed in an instant and I didn't look back all that much. But last night it was just so amazing to remember those feelings and realize it's them. It was always them.

And maybe there will be more. Maybe there won't. But at least I no longer grieve what I don't yet have. By the grace of God, my heart has gone from broken to overflowing because they're here.

A little crazy lately

I've been uncharacteristically busy lately. 

Add a few sicknesses and medications to the already long list of things to get done, and I really start to lose my footing. Everyone in the house is on something, two times a day, one of us on two things... I'm just doing my best to remember all the doses. 

I have also been very hard at work on two upcoming birthdays. Let's just say there have been more than a couple craft projects underway at one time around here. I'm making up for Clara's lack of a first birthday and we're celebrating both Luke and Clara's birthdays together this year. 

Unlike my normal self, I so far haven't totally screwed anything up and had to start over. In the past, I have know not to do any work at night unless I want to re-do it the next day. But lately things have just been going really smoothly. 

Since I have no idea when this burst of creative energy will come to an end (and I'm assuming it will leave as rapidly as it came), I am getting everything done as quickly as possible. When it's over, it's usually over for a long time. Their birthdays are just a couple weeks away (ahhh!) so hopefully this current streak will last until then. 

That being said, I don't have actual physical energy, it's really just creative. Yes, it takes physical energy to actually carry out the projects that I dream up, but I have had to really push myself. I'm still pretty fatigued.

I've always been very hot and cold with my creativity (well, I've always hated to call it creativity since I don't usually come up with ideas, I just copy), but I'm wondering if this is somehow hormone related, or adrenal related, or thyroid related, because, after all, isn't everything? 

I'm also experiencing a lovely little phenomenon that is likely also related to hormones - I'm having trouble controlling my emotions. Or, rather, just one emotion - crying tears of happiness.

Just a sampling of what I've cried over in the last few days - a song on the Sing Off (I was bawling, BAWLING, my eyes out), Parenthood (again, crying very, very hard), and those darn Fisher Price commercials. Have you seen those? The ones that are shot with a warm filter, that focus on the happy parents and kids bonding (instead of the toy) and are clearly marketed to moms and dads instead of the children for once? Yes, I am their target audience. I get choked up and want to buy every toy. 

I also find that I cry at the kids' books a lot. Corduroy is one that gets me every time. "I've always wanted a friend!" Ahhh! Clara usually catches my voice cracking and gives me a sideway glance as I try to quickly recover. 

Don't worry, Clara. Your mama is just a little crazy!

Speaking of hormones, I have a post swirling in my head about my lack of conceiving again so far. I'm in a weird place with it, because I really want to be pregnant, but I'm okay that I'm not. I guess I'm just so used to not being okay with not being pregnant, that this is all new to me. 

The only worry I have is one of labeling. I read somewhere that the definition of secondary infertility is not conceiving after six months of trying if you're 35 or older (just a couple months away from turning 35, I guess I'm just throwing myself into that category prematurely). I am hyper-concerned with being labeled as someone with secondary infertility, like I just want to get it over with and call it that already, instead of postponing the inevitable. Does that make sense? 

But then I go back to one question - is it considered six months of trying if you are still breastfeeding? Yes, I've been cycling normally (or what I assume is normal) since early this year, but I am still breastfeeding six or more times a day. Any thoughts on that? 

Sorry this post is all over the place, but that's kind of exactly where I am lately!