another typical conversation

John (singing): "Eat your toast, pretty Luciya, eat your toast, eat your toast. Eat your toast, pretty Luciya..."

Emily: "Wow, where did you hear that song?"

John: "On the radio last night, the country station."

Emily: "Okay -I was going to say, if you made that up yourself, that's pretty impressive."

John: "I wish I was that talented. But it was Brook and Dunn on the country station."

Emily: "Did they even use the name Luciya??"

John: "Yeah, but they spelled it differently."

Emily: "Oh."

John: "Yeah, I looked up the lyrics last night on brook and dunn dot com."

ah, to be two

eLLe - TWO and a month

Dear Luciya,

You're two now. TWO! How awesome is that??!! You've been two for a month, but I'm just now getting around to writing this because things have been pretty busy. First, we had your second birthday party.


It was so much fun. There were about 20 of your little friends running around, playing in the bubble machine, and eating delicious carrot cake cupcakes with whipped cream cheese frosting that your Uncle Mikey and I whipped up. And there was your birthday present, courtesy of Uncle Mikey and your Dada.


Who's a lucky little girl? You are.

Then, we went to L.A. to celebrate your sister's 18th birthday. You girls are growing up wwwaaaaayyyyy to quickly for your own good. Holy cow.


And here you are, my giant two-year-old. No really, you're giant. At your 2-year check up, you weighted 30.5 pounds and are 35 inches tall. Both of these are in the 90th percentile. .And then there's your bobble head, whose hugeness must be covered by your mounds of hair, because its size continues to stay in the 95h percentile. We've begun calling you Ol' Bighead.


You still call yourself "Baby," and refer to yourself in the third person. "Baby do it." "Read Baby book." "Oh, Baby's shoes." You're talking and talking and I can't tell you how much I enjoy it. You're such a sponge and you've started saying things that I didn't even realize I said enough for you to catch on. "Here you go" is one, but my favorite that you started using recently, and totally inappropriately, is "Sorry about that!" It actually comes out more like "Siy bout dat," and it's freakin hilarious. You'll see that a pant leg is hanging out of a dresser drawer and you'll run over and say "Oh siy bout dat!" and tuck it back in.


It's so nice now that you're able to use your words to express what you want and are feeling. You can say "Baby go night-night" and "More milk, please" and "Go see water." You still love all things water and your birthday party was actually fish-themed. You love to look at pictures of water and jump in puddles and run your hands over spills. Your birthday present from me was a fish, a betta named Sam, who is actually still alive, thank you very much. Every morning you say "Hi Sam!"


You love to give kisses and hugs and are so excited to "go see buddies" at Stroller Strides each morning. You're a pretty good sharer - most of the time. That is certainly not to say, however, that you are a consistent bundle of sweetness and light. Your tantrums have become quite deliberate and frustrating. Lately the thing that sets you off is a bit of jealously when your dada or I hold another baby. you totally embarrassed me the other week when I offered to hold a friend's baby and you completely lost if, flailing your limbs all over the ground, kicking up grass and dew, banging you head and wailing. Even after I gave the baby back to her mama you wouldn't stop. So that's one thing we'll have to work on. It's just so hard, in general, when things don't immediately go your way. God forbid I don't let you open the door to the freezer and proceed to lay its contents all around the kitchen. I know, I know... worst mother EVER.


It's been warm and lovely lately - perfect potty training weather. We've been busting out the panties and practicing sitting on your little potty. No true success yet, but I know the point is sinking in, and there is certainly no rush. I think I just kind of like seeing your sweet little bottom in those tiny panties as you run through the green grass.


The major obstacle we're facing right now is ditching the nuk-nuk. The binky came out in full force in March after our trip to Maui - so much so that people were surprised to see it since they never knew you used one. The regression was major, and now I am determined to help you quit the addiction entirely, once and for all. Oh my God, it's sooo hard. A screaming baby is one thing; babies just scream. I screaming toddler who is begging between hiccups for the nuk-nuk is a completely different thing, because you know why you're upset, you know what would fix it, and you're just not getting it, and it sucks. We're using this method, and so far we're still on step 1 after six days. We've eliminated the binky from the stroller and the car, which I think are good first baby steps. It's now primarily used at bedtime, with the little pinholes punched in.


So, we'll see how it goes. In the mean time, I continue to be awed and humbled by you; I continue to check on your sweetly soft form sleeping each night; I continue to be grateful for life as I know it ever since you came along.

I love you, Luciya!

Love,
Mama

our wedding dance - september 27, 2008

Click on "HQ" for the best quality!!

our little fairy princess

Our fave photographer, Lauren Harms, used Luciya for a fairy series she is doing. Luciya was a bird pixie, and got to wear feather wings and a huge tulle skirt. This is one of the shots from today... Take a look at the gorgeous, almost 2-year-old girl!!

no ka oi

We returned to Maui for a week the last week in March. It was an amazing journey! I thought for sure that our first time back would be surreal, and nostalgic, and we'd be pointing out all the places we used to go and reminiscing the whole time.

But it wasn't like that at all. It was just like, Oh hey Maui. And Maui was all, Hey, what's up guys? Nice to see you. It felt comfortable. It felt familiar. We loved being back there together, and it was so amazing to experience it with Luciya, too. 

Thanks, Tutu, for using your vacation club to set us up! We had a grand time!

Here are some of my favorite pics. The rest are on our Picasa page (if you need the link, just email me).

fasionista

Luciya received yet another bagful of clothes from my brother's girlfriend, Aunty Danielle. She's really into fashion these days, and was so impressed with the darling selection that she had to try on everything at once.

uncle to the rescue from shemmy on Vimeo.

eLLe - 22 & 23 months

Dear Luciya,

Well. I’m busted. I did not write you a letter last month. The night you turned 22 months old, Mila went missing and she ended up being gone overnight. This worried the crap out of us and consequently I wasn’t able to sit down and write that night (she returned home safe the next day). Then a few days later we received the devastating news of our miscarriage and it was all I could do to focus on keeping my head up, let alone finding the brains to write intelligently.

So here we are a month later, and you’re 23 MONTHS OLD. Get out of town, girl! How in the world did that happen?

And you’re fabulous. I mean, really, a delight. For a while there you could certainly feel the angst in the house and you were clingy and needy and sad, and that made me sad. But we’ve all turned a corner and I have been dazzled by you lately – your happiness, your intelligence, the bright and inquisitive way you see the world. And I am so very appreciative of you and for all the ways your sweet little self, in your 29.5 pound body, has truly been my saving grace. I have you, and you chose me, we are here in our comfy little family, and… hey, that rhymed. Let’s keep it up.

 

To Luciya at Almost-Two:

 

Getting dressed is so much fun

Putting on your shirts and shoes

You can’t quite say the “r” in “shirt”

Which sometimes makes people confused

 

Your best language yet is loving trust

Embracing, cuddling, nuzzling too

“Huggies” and “tisses” all day long

The whole world is a friend to you

 

That’s not to say that all day long

You’re hugging and smiling and fresh as a daisy

Sorry, my child, but we both know

Your determination can drive me crazy

 

You’re under, over, in and out

You’re up, you’re down, you’re in between

And dare I try to strap you in

I’m often greeted with a scream

 

Why scream when you can talk so well?

All of a sudden, words just flow

“Dirty shoes”, “brush hair”, “read book”

“Pretty hat,” “change diaper,” “ooooh, toe”

 

“Oh, pretty!” is a favorite phrase

This word describes things near and far

Your painted toenails are so pretty

As is an empty mason jar

 

You tripped on your towel and bumped your lip

It bled and bled and hurt you so

For a while you had the bee-stung look

Remind you of anyone we know?

 

I gave in and finally cut your bangs

Can’t keep that hobo hair from your eyes

At first the bowl cut look was harsh

But now you’re the cutest – surprise, surprise

 

We lost a sibling of yours this month

Hard to imagine now where we would be

Getting you ready for a big bed

And working more diligently on the potty

 

We’re returning to Maui next week

I can’t wait to watch you run and groove

This is where you were born, my dear

You were 8 weeks old the day we moved

 

I can't believe it, but every day

I love you, daughter, more and more

You’re smarter, stronger, and more lovely

Cuter and sweeter than the day before

 

You’ve blessed my life and fed my soul

You’ve kept me faithful, humble, and strong

Without you, who knows where I’d be

But right here is where we belong.

 

I love you, Luciya!

 

Love,

Mama

 

 

 

 

 

just another word for nothin' left to lose

The procedure went very well last week (almost too well - seriously, I can see how people can become addicted to Demerol). But I digress. I actually felt very comfortable with our doctor and the nurse in attendance. She brought me a wool blanket to snuggle with afterwards, and the doctor, per our request, let us take a look at what he removed. 

We named him Kanoa, which was the boy name we had decided on early in the pregnancy. The name is fitting for a couple reasons - first, because I feel strongly that this baby would have been a boy, and second, because Kanoa is a Hawaiian name that means "free man." While I may never understand where he went  or why, I take comfort in the idea that he, and I, are where we are supposed to be.

I have been able to take the best possible stance in this situation, and I'm motivated to live a wonderful life for Kanoa and for everything else I have the opportunity to achieve. We've had happy spirits lately, and have even been able to find ways to laugh - about the fact that Kanoa is resting in our outdoor freezer until we place him in the ground with a special tree. About how John asked the doctor at the consultation before the D&C: "So, you got a Baggie or something we can take it home in?" I know this all may sound macabre, but laughter is a truly healing art, and the fact that I've been able to laugh so much in the last week or so has felt like a blessing. 

I'm choosing to stick with my convictions that everything happens for a reason, and I've taken advantage of the situation to start some new and exciting business plans, to focus on providing a happy and healthy summer for Luciya and working on potty training and binky dropping and running like maniacs in the sunshine, and to diligently strive to make my own body a healthy, glowing temple.  And, I've realized that being 8 months pregnant in 100 degree weather while teaching Stroller Strides classes might not have been  my best look. Kanoa just may be the wisest embryo I've ever met. 

When Baby #2 (well, #3) does come around, I am going to do my best to make sure that he or she is welcomed into the best world we can afford to give him or her. I was concerned today when I saw this news story on the Onion. The education of our future generations is so important. Please join me in my commitment to making sure our children receive the best possible education we can provide them.

In The Know: Are Our Children Learning Enough About Whales?

t-bone

So, imagine the scene from a semi-low-budget Hollywood comedy-action caper. Three young men (one of them is Ralph Maccio - the Karate Kid) are perched at the top of Jones Street in San Francisco with a shopping cart. Ralph and one buddy climb in to the basket of the cart and the third buddy holds the handle bar and readies himself with one foot on the ground and the other ready to push off. And push off he does, and those crazy boys zip down the steep, steep street, steadily gaining speed. Close-up of Ralph's face, eyes bulging, mouth open, screaming "Holllyyyyy shiiiiiiiitttttttt!!!" as the cart races precariously through the intersections, cars screeching to a halt as the cart swerves on two wheels and readjusts shakily, whizzing past honking horns and screaming motorists, throwing the boys around inside, but never toppling, past construction cones and spooked policemen on horseback, until is finally slows at the bottom of the hill and they all tumble, unhurt, onto a manicured lawn.

My turn. I climb cautiously into the cart at the top of the hill. I take off. And at the first intersection, I t-bone a moving van.

That's just one of the scenarios in my poor little head lately, the feeling that as I am coming to terms with the loss of this pregnancy, the world goes on, blissfully slipping around in their own pregnancies, bellies growing, shopping for new crib bedding, hearing tiny whirring heartbeats from a microphone to their bellies. 

The past week has been an emotional shopping cart ride, to say the least. I have literally felt every emotion in the book: Sadness - Guilt - Shame - Peace - Grief - Jealousy - Confusion - Acceptance - Anger - Frustration - Annoyance - Exhaustion - Tranquility - Despair - Loneliness - Relief - Loss. Most days I can hardly roll out of bed in the morning and I'm still not quite sure why.

I have received so many touching gifts from all of you, though. I've read your cards. I've listened to your voice mails. My house looks like a garden wonderland. Your hearty soup has warmed my belly. I've heard your messages. And I'm sorry that I haven't wanted to talk, and that I didn't invite you in for a few days. But I think I just didn't want to hear what you had to say. Because everything happens for a reason. Because it happens to women every day. Because I can and will have another child. Because it wasn't meant to be.

And I know all of these things to be true, I do, but I would rather be carrying a living child inside of me, and be looking forward to holding him in my arms in September. Because we were ready. Because we planned. Because we tried. Because I'm meant to be a mother.

But I did reach out to you, and you responded in kind, and I am confident that that has made all the difference. I think that as women (hell, as humans), we are apt to deal with our difficult situations in the quietest (read: "strongest") way we know how, because we don't want to burden anybody, and because our pain is often our own. But I must say that the biggest lesson I have learned so far from this whole ordeal is that I am loved, dammit, and I have people to reach out to because I needed to feel the love, and feel it I did, and this has made all the difference.

The person I most want to thank for this is my friend Christina, my new Boise friend who is one of the strongest people I have ever met. She works diligently for the local hospital in a program called Share, which helps parents to deal with the pain of the loss of a child. She was actually the very first person I called after receiving the news, even before I spoke to any family member. And she listened and she felt and she came to the house and she brought me a remembrance kit and she let me know that it was okay to feel however I wanted to feel, because I had (we had) indeed lost a child. And I fully credit her for letting me know that I deserved to feel support. And so I reached out to all of you, and you were there.

My darling sister in law Teresa flew up from San Diego last week to be with us, and I cannot express my gratitude. She offered that maternal, female support that, while Mikey and John are awesome men, only a wonderful woman can provide. Thanks again, T! While she was here to offer support, and since my body still hadn't caught on to the fact that it was supposed to be doing something to move the process along, we decided to help things out a little by taking a prescription drug that would... help my body do its thing. 

So on Thursday night, I hunkered down with a marathon DVD session of The Office and waited. And waited.

Turns out, it didn't frigging work. I'm beginning to think that my body is just a little slow on the uptake. That the reason Luciya was 12 days late being born wasn't necessarily because she was nice and comfy in there, but because my body just hadn't gotten the memo that it was time for this baby to be born. About a week ago. I've been having acute flashbacks to those frustrations.

So, I go in again this afternoon to have some seaweed inserted into my uncooperative cervix, and I'm totally not kidding. The moisture in my body will make the seaweed expand, and tomorrow I will be admitted for a D&C.

And then, hopefully, I will be somewhat healed, emotionally and physically, and I'll be able to return to Stroller Strides, which my body is desperately missing.

Again, I thank each and every one of you for all the love you have shown me and my family.

xoxoxoxox

silent

I found out I was pregnant on inauguration day (Gobama!). Since then it's all been setting in: the emotional rollercoaster, the tender boobs, the need for chocolate chip cookies. It has been such a blessing to have this little bundle to look forward to, especially since the last three months have been the absolute worst of my life, with all this business crap to deal with.

We had our first appointment with the midwife today, where we discussed everything in an open, friendly atmosphere - the baby's birth date: September 30 (my favorite time of the year! And, Luciya and the babe will be 2 1/2 years apart - perfect!) We discussed how we've decided to NOT find out the sex. We went over emergency procedures and all the offerings of the ld&r section of St. Al's.

Then the midwife went to listen for the heartbeat with her little microphone. I held my breath as she moved all around to locate it - to no avail. No problem, she said, my uterus was probably just lying low. So we went in to see the ultrasound tech. 

She found the sac but it looked so small she tried again by inserting an internal ultrasound. Again, just a little black spot. The midwife and the tech stepped out of the room without a word to let me change. John and I looked at each other and that's when we knew.

The baby has died inside of me.

It's now up to my body to figure that out, and get rid of it.

'cause all she wants to do is dance, dance

Luciya wandered away from her Dada today and came back in possession of two CDs. John swears he doesn't have a clue where she went or where they came from. He's got boxes of CDs stored in the furnace room, but the boxes are sealed and the door was still closed. 

Here are the random selections now sitting on my desk:

and

I'm so excited to listen to about 46 hours of Neil Diamond. You think I'm kidding?

peanut butter jelly time!

to my husband on our 8th valentine's day

Happy to be your baby-mama

Proud to be your wife

Looking forward to many more years

Of this interesting life!

Even though you make me crazzy

And I know I do the same

I have faith we're meant to be

Because our true love isn't lame.

Like this poem.

Oh, well. I just try.

I love you.

Shemmy

projects

The past few weeks have been dreary gray-bone chilly-nut heavy-sky days, and we've found ourselves indoors much more than we'd like to admit. So, taking advantage of Uncle Mikey's presence and the onset of cabin fever, we've started tackling some household projects that have been topics of conversation for months. 

Inspiration: Half-counter in the corner of the kitchen with 3 cupboards underneath. Not conducive to family eating; very good for gathering clutter.

Step 1: Clear off the mess. Remove the cupboards.

Step 2: Don pink rubber boots and Inspiration Tutu in order to more effectively help in construction efforts.

Step 3: Rip the effer off the wall using any power tools necessary. (A woodworker neighbor with said power tools comes in handy in this step.)

Step 4: Pause. Now what?

Step 5: Spackle and repaint.

Step 6: Furnish. 

We already had the chairs, rug, and bench. We got the table at Fred Meyer for $119.

We're waiting on the finishing touch - a strip of board to cover the bottom portion of the lovely "wall tile" where the counter was ripped out.

I LOVE this. We have eaten here, as a family every single day for the last week. We've played cards and painted pictures. And we don't miss the cupboard space at all. It's like a whole new kitchen!!

luciya pooped in the potty!!!!! luciya pooped in the potty!!!!

So, Luciya likes to practice sitting on the potty. Sometimes she'll pull down her pants, sometimes she'll leave them on, but she always likes to grab exactly one square of toilet paper, pretend to wipe, and the toss it into the "big potty" and say "bye bye!" as we flush it away.

She's never actually peed or pooped in the potty, though, and I'm not worried, since we're not in an extreme rush to potty train or anything, but I've wondered if she really knew what the whole potty business was really about.

This evening, after picking up a few things at the Costco, Luciya and I had a lovely date for two at McGrath's Fish House. This is the second of such mommy-daughter dates out for a meal, and both times she has behaved incredibly well. She ate her veggies, stayed in the high chair, and didn't throw a single morsel of food on the floor. We laughed together and quite enjoyed our meal. When we came home I ran a bath for Luciya and before getting her in the water we each sat on our respective potties, as is custom. I didn't think anything of it until Luciya got up from her potty and there were THREE BIG BEAUTIFUL TURDS sitting there in the bowl!!! Like, no big deal, Mom, I just had to poop, so I did it in the POTTY! Such a big girl.

I hope you can sympathize somewhat with my absolute elation. I'm just so proud (sniff, tear).

And you can kind of hear it in my voice in the requisite video that followed. (Warning: video includes one second of footage of actual poop.)

hooray!!! from shemmy on Vimeo.

eLLe - 21 months

Dear Luciya,

Well, my darling child, it's the first month of the year, so it's time to dedicate this month's post in a series of haikus. Ahem...

Why We Tape your Diapers On

You strip down in bed

If I find poop smear once more

I'm gonna lose it

Salutations

Say "Hello" to all

"Hi-hi-hi-hi-hi-hi-hi!"

Don't forget "Bye-bye!"

Hitch

Pull your pants up high

Might as well be comfy, huh

Look at that belly!



Jammin'

What's up, sticky face?

Like you never ate before

Blackberry kisses

Burrbone

Chilly, isn't it?

Let's bundle up those cheekies

And still go outside

Tantruminus Giganticorus

Flail kick scream protest

Life is just unfair these days

We get it, you're peeved




Away
California girl
Holidays were so much fun
What a good trav'ler



Girls, Girls, Girls, Girls
Cousins and sister
Sweet seeing you together
We love and miss you!



Our Spot

In San Francisco

We took you to Dolores

You jumped in puddles




Monkey Pajamas
Monkey pajamas
Oh yes, monkey pajamas
Monkey pajamas




Training Days
Panties and Pull-Ups
And fast potty breaks, oh my!
Let's go diaper-free!




Move
Run, dance, almost jump
Discover your body free
Swing like a monkey




A Big Kid Now
Why are you so big?
Not a baby anymore
Holy toddlerhood!




Little Mother
Wee baby mama
Caring for your stuffed doll friends
And reading them books




Visitor
Uncle Mikey's here
An instant affinity
Three more months to go!




Look Who's Talking
Moon, hair, hi baby, brush
More, cookie, and for "thank you"
You can say "Heeh-heeh"




I Smile Wearily
Look at you go, girl
Nonstop beauty in motion
And so worth it all

I love you, Luciya!!

Love,
Mama