Dear Nate,

This month you turned 15 months old. Time flies when you’re learning to jump off furniture. You continue to be my little daredevil/explorer/adventurer.

These past two months have brought a lot of changes: good, hard, and everything in between.

Your dad got a job (yayayayayayay!), but we couldn’t move into our new apartment for another six weeks, so that meant you dad had to commute to Virgina every week. Sometimes, I went with him, but it was always hard to leave. Families aren’t meant to be separate.

So many times, I wondered what you thought. Did you wonder if Grandma and Grandpa were your parents? Do you think you have four parents?

You seemed to adjust well. You smiled when we came back, and waved when we left. We were sad to leave, but our family had to be split and so we mad do.

God is faithful. Do you not remember? That saying should be something we remember every morning, every evening. It’s hard at times.

It’s hard when your daddy is laid off twice in six months. It’s hard when I feel homeless, relying on the generosity of family and friends. It’s hard when your family is apart and you’re left behind.

But it’s still true. And oh, how good it is.

Finally, it was October and we could go home. For good. For real. We packed up our things from NY, said goodbye and thank you to everyone, and moved back into a new apartment. We found a new grocery store (or three!), a new Target, and a new library. We moved the world’s heaviest couch up a flight of stairs. Thankfully, we have the same friends and same church.

We moved in and laughed when you fearlessly walked off the edge of the couch, chairs, and coffee table. We covered our ears when I gave you a push popper and you delighted in its noise for hours. We got our first television and you ignored it. We said “No, Nate, don’t touch that (fill in the blank)!” four million times a day.

And it was good. Not perfect, but real. And we were us again.

This month, we start life again, in many ways.

What will a normal season be like? Now, that we’ve moved, we won’t have surgery, job hunting, or anything else life changing. I think part of me will just expect life to blow up again, but I really hope it’s just quiet for a while.

I want to balance the budget, sleep in my own bed, and hang out with you and your daddy. We have parks to discover in our new town and new food for you to taste (macaroni! pizza! tacos! and other healthy choices).

So here’s to a new life, kiddo. No matter what it brings, it’s going to be great.

I love you.

Mama

I had no intention of this blog ever being this quiet or it becoming a repository of my monthly letters to Nate. I read a lot of blogs, and while I admire and look forward to their content, I struggle with owning one myself. I like my writing being out there and I like the idea of blogging, but I actually HATE it. That’s why there is such longs gaps between my posts.

I really don’t have a niche that I want to fill. There are thousands of bloggers out there (mommy bloggers, most with absolutely NOTHING to say – we all hear enough about poop and nap times, I think) and I have nothing different to offer. And I’m totally cool with that. That isn’t my life right now.

So, I’m going to hang on to this little piece of cyberspace, but it’s really for me. It’s for me to look back and say, “Hey,  look what we were doing then!” I like that. And if I totally stop posting, that’s alright. Because that’s no longer for us.

We have been in VA for a couple of weeks now – hooray! It’s been a busy time of unpacking, laundry, and getting used to a new town. It’s fun, if a bit stressful sometimes. I’ve only gotten lost a couple of times and have even managed to figure out 66 on my own.

It’s been a while since my last post. I have Nate’s letter for the past two months in my queue to be published, but there really wasn’t anything to say in the meantime. Life is quiet, still (other than the unpacking). I’m so grateful.

So for now, we have nothing new to report. And we like it that way.

But seriously, if you do read this, thank you. If you’ve prayed for us along this crazy year and a half, THANK YOU. We’re looking back on the other side, and we are so incredibly blessed. God is good and so are His people. Thank you.

Dear Nate,

This month you turned 13 months. In the last four weeks, you’ve become a man of many adventures. You’ve traveled to new places, experienced vast extremes of weather, tasted exotic foods, and mastered crazy feats of development.

Maybe that’s overstating it. But you sure are thrilled about life.

TRAVEL
This month, you and I traveled to Texas to visit my family. I was dreading the long travel day, but you proved to be a very good travel buddy. You flirted with everyone near and far, male or female. And oh, what fun toys planes have! Seat back tray tables proved to be infinitely entertaining: up, down, up, down, up, down. While in the crazy hot south (over 100 for DAYS), you traveled to the river, to Austin, and hit it off great with your first homeless man.

Oh, and you got the experience the total adrenaline rush of hearing our names called in the airport. Not as in “Whitney and Nathaniel Archer, please come to the gate so you get your free tickets,” but as in “Whitney and Nathaniel Archer, please come to gate X because your plane is leaving now.” Boy howdy, we flew. And I mean BEFORE the plane took off (thankfully, with us on it).

FOOD
This month, you experienced the wonder of real food. While in Texas, someone gave you a pig rib to chew on. I think your taste buds looked at that pork, died, and went to BBQ heaven. You chewed and chewed and chewed. And then you screamed and screamed and screamed when I had to take it away. Later, you got a piece of brisket and the same process commenced. You win the gold in BBQ chewing.

You also tasted (and loved!) feta, onions, saltines, spaghetti, lasagna, chocolate chip cookies, pasta, whole wheat crackers, scrambled eggs, and GRAPE JUICE! You’d dehydrate without grape juice. .

CRAZY FEATS
Which feats shall I talk about? How about a list? Lists are teh awesome.
- first word: uh oh (over and over and over and over)
- saying wow, ooooooh, and ohhhhh
- motioning all gone, bye bye, blowing kisses, handshakes
- pooping 7 times a day (seriously, kid, how do you do it!?)

A literal 24 hour period shows how your brain is figuring out the world: one day you never noticed that there was anything in the kitchen besides a table, and the next day you’ve learned that there are cabinets and drawers, that they open, AND that they contain bountiful treasure. Only when I caught you with your grandmother’s 409 bottle (!) did I realize how much trouble I was in.

Every day, you find something else that’s off limits that you’re going to touch four thousand and two times before tomorrow. But you’re a happy, crazy explorer and I love you for it.

Me

Exactly a week from today, Daniel begins his new job near Washington DC.

The job came together very quickly. Nate and I had just arrived back in NY from a two week trip to TX, when Daniel said he needed to go to VA for a job interview. Cool! I thought. Grandma agreed to watch Nate, so we packed our bags, left the family reunion early, and beat it down to our home state.

We spend the weekend with friends, laughing and talking over coffee, chili, and cooking movies. Monday, Daniel left for the interview while I walked the aisles of Target, nervously praying. An hour passed with no news and I got worried. But then he called, saying he was promised the position. And right there in the Misses section of the Dumfries Target, I had an awesome day.

The official offer came all of an hour and a half later and we happily accepted. Awesome things like insurance (!), paychecks (!!), and paid vacation (!!!) are suddenly a reality again. Daniel has a job!

And get this: he’ll be working as a contractor with the Marines. See? Stability. They’re not going anywhere anytime soon.

Ooo-rah!

I don’t want to hyper-spiritualize recent events in our household, but I wanted to pass along an excellent post Daniel sent me. We both found it helpful.

“In the difficult ‘big things’ that come our way there are many questions that flood our minds and emotions. You know the ‘why’, ‘how’, ‘what’, ‘who’ and ‘where’ type of questions. Some questions come at you like waves on the beach one after the other while others you hunt down, sometimes in hot pursuit of them. For me I have found chasing the ‘why’ question to be the least productive and in fact actually a waste of time. Do we ever get an answer to that question that is truly satisfying? I don’t think so and at least for me it often ends up an exercise in self -justification, self-pity or blame placing. Not a very healthy place to take up residence and not a place where I find God hanging out much. For me there are other questions that are much more powerful, much more life giving and more God finding. The ‘what’, ‘how’, ‘who’ and ‘where’ questions area much better place to live in. Chasing down answers to these questions are allowing me to leave the way I want to leave.  I want to leave with integrity, grace and gratitude so these are the questions I am choosing to ask myself these days to help me stay that course:

What is God trying to teach me in this?

What do I need to lean about my myself?

What is going to be revealed in me?

What if all that God has taught me to this point has been preparing me for what  is next?

How can I respond to this situation with integrity, grace and faithfulness?

How can I find God in this? Can I embrace that God is in the midst of this?

How can I be anything but grateful [for what I've been given up 'till now?

How can I be anything but thankful that God has allowed me to minister to [others]?

Who am I going to become in this process?

Who is God bringing into my life right now and for what purpose?

Who can speak truth into my life that I need to listen to?

Where am I placing my trust?

Where am I finding my identity?

Where am I going to serve next and can I embrace this as an adventure with God?

These are the questions that bring me life, hope and faith these days. My guess is that in a difficult situation you might be facing it is questions like these that will bring light to dark places. Remember we get to choose our response. It is never helpful to play the victim, to think we have no choice in a situation. That posture gets us nowhere and in my case is an act of faithlessness. It is saying that what I am going through is outside Gods control. It’s denying, as crazy as it may seem, that God may just be in this after all. This does not mean denying the real pain of a situation or acting like it is all no big deal or playing some ‘happy Christian’ game.  It’s just the opposite, choosing these responses and ones like them allow us to embrace our pain and grow through it.”

Dear Nate,

This week you turned one year old. So we celebrated. How we celebrated!

Your grandmother made cupcakes (chocolate, of course!), Susan made sugar cookies, and others brought more food. Your father and I blew up balloons and decorated with vintage toys. The present pile grew to ten times your size. It was simple, but perfect in size and scale. We ate and ate and ate. You were our entertainment as you toddled around laughing and flirting with your adoring guests.

We had a lot to celebrate: a year of grace.

It’s been a year of layoffs, of doctors, of surgeries, of insurance headaches. But here you are, pointing at the dog and saying “ba!” You can make sucking noises. And here we are, living in New York, waiting on a job. And it’s good.

I think the biggest blessings of this in-between time is watching you thrive. You eat like you’ve never eaten before and have gained several pounds already. You love the continual attention of your grandparents and aunt and uncle. You’re walking with confidence and always trying new sounds every day. This morning, I found you opening the living room window. You had found the crank behind the curtain and figured out how to work it. You’ve figured out that the fridge contains food and that your grandmother opens it by pulling. So you pull it and get frustrated when the door won’t open.

You’ve discovered a new love: animals. You follow the dog around whenever possible, arm extended, legs running. You like the cat too, but I’m pretty sure you like her tail more. Grass isn’t as awful as it used to be and you’ve run across the rough gravel barefoot. Your daddy and I took you to see the neighbor’s cows in your metal wagon. You liked the wagon, but were not impressed with the cows. They weren’t impressed with you either.

Bumps and bruises abound. So does discipline. Today, you attempted three times to pull a tablecloth (and lamps and whatever else on top of them) off. I swatted your hand and you pitched a fit. We’re working on it.

You’re happy and growing and moving. And that makes us happy.

Happy Birthday, Nate. We can’t imagine life without you – it’s even better than before!

Love,
Me

I’m writing this from the living room of our new commune home. Four days ago, we put our furniture in a storage unit, packed what little we needed for now, and drove six hours north to western New York. We’ll be living with Daniel’s family (parents, brother, and his wife) until he can find a job in Virginia. So, for now, life is once again on hold.

Honestly, waiting gets old. We want SOMETHING to work out, but for now, this is where we are supposed to be. And there is some peace in that. Meanwhile, we’re enjoying family, buffalo wings, and cool weather.

I really miss our home.

]]> http://shutterbabe.wordpress.com/2009/07/05/transition/feed/ 1 shutterbabe 070109_map http://shutterbabe.wordpress.com/2009/06/19/9th-10th-and-11th-month/ http://shutterbabe.wordpress.com/2009/06/19/9th-10th-and-11th-month/#comments Fri, 19 Jun 2009 16:26:52 +0000 thearchers http://shutterbabe.wordpress.com/?p=264 ]]>

Dear Nate,

This month you turn 11 months old. I win the latest Mom ever award, but here goes.

Since I last wrote at 8 months, life is go go go. You NEVER STOP MOVING. Whenever we try to hold you still even for a minute, you roar. It’s an awful sound, really. I’ve only heard the like of it when a doctor draws blood.

What a force you are!

Highlights of the past three months:

- I’m still laughing at the day I walking in the living room to discover you on the little kiddie chair, belly down, with limbs and head dangling. I watched in horror as you dropped a toy, then literally dove head first to get it. It’s a good thing your neck is made of steel, buddy.

- You are constantly testing your boundaries, seeing if we’re watching. We are, but you’re sure to voice your displeasure even without words. When you Daddy tells you “No!” more often that not, you’ll turn around and bark a sharp grunt at him in anger. It’s quite hilarious, but only if I’m the one watching.

- Your grandparents visited for two weeks and they were very amused at your energy and our exhaustedness. When your Daddy told you, “Nathaniel, no prancing around in the bed, please,” I thought they were going to lose it. You’ll have the best vocabulary yet if he has anything to say about it!

- When you’re in public, you’re sedate and quiet, being sure to watch everyone before acting. But at home, well, frankly, you often become crazy. There’s that look – a wild gleam, bright eyed. Then we know Nate doesn’t need sugar for an extra shot of energy.

- As you test your boundaries, we enforce them. Often, I will discipline you for a clear infraction and you won’t shed even a tear. But when I turn your head so that you see that I’m talking to you, that’s when you bawl.

- You’re learning to stand more and more and even walk a couple of hesitant steps. You’re so short, it’s hilarious to see a mini adult imitating us. It always gets you attention (even better than crying).

- I loved it (still do!) when you understand that I was going to “get” you. You giggle and crawl as fast as you can away from me, but sometimes you get mixed up and crawl TOWARDS me. That’s usually when I lose it in my own laughter.

- And still, the ever-present “mamamamamama.”

And lately, at 11 months:

- You had your major palate surgery on June 2. It was NOT fun and you were in the PICU for three days. But, we had been through this before, so we weren’t as nervous. You looked awful coming out of the OR with a bloody nose and threads coming through your tongue. You recovered slowly, spending the next week being very emotional and clingy. Even in the first day, though, you showed your sheer willpower to move even when your arms were in restraints. Grandma laughed and laughed when you used the edge of your mattress for leverage to sit up in bed.

- I think the worst part of this whole year will be the hospital stays. I HATE them:  how you look when you come out of the OR, how you can’t eat for hours beforehand, how the morphine and codeine make you groggy enough to make you miserable but not sleepy, and how little rest the nurses let you get. It’s seriously awful. The first time, I kept replaying it in my mind, “It was so bad – how can people do for weeks?” But this time, we were ready. I knew that it would end and you would recover. So, even as the PICU alarms went off 30 times an hour and you wouldn’t sleep, I knew that it would end. And I knew we would be us again.

- Even in the hospital, there is humor. The two parts I remember are these: first, that I knew you were ready to go home when you were stealing gauze, throwing toys out of the crib, and licking your IV pole. When you started doing laps in the metal cage (cross out) crib, the nurses started the check out process. The second part was when you begged me to hold you. You were flailing your unbendable arms and suddenly, sent one of your arm restraints flying. You stared at it for a minute, then turned to me and gave me the biggest grin I’d seen since surgery.

And now…we’re done. You can eat without food coming out your nose. You can make sucking sounds and we’ll teach you to eat from cups and straws. You look and act “normal.” When we found about the cleft, people told us the first year would be hardest. Apparently, we decided they couldn’t be right, so we added in two layoffs, a move, and insurance and doctor battles. And you know what? They were right.

Sometimes, I wonder what it’s like to have a “normal” baby: one who eats and nurses and doesn’t require mouth appliances before three months of age. Surgery sucks and it would be wonderful never to go through that again. I don’t know why God allowed you to be born with cleft – we’re just starting this journey, after all. But I am confident that it is good and will be good.

You are our normal and we love it.

Love,

Mama

This cutie (those eyelashes ARE amazing, aren’t they?) will have cleft palate surgery June 2 at Georgetown University Hospital at 9:30 in the morning. Yes, that girl finally called and yes, we were civil to her. But now, we at least have one certain thing in the future – woot!

And going on the lessons from the last surgery, we will be 1) having family in town, 2) ordering super-duper non-hospital-provided arm restraints 3) stocking up on infant tylenol and 4) making sure nurses wake him as little as possible.

(photo by me)

77: the days until Nate and I are in Texas for two weeks

4: the weeks that Daniel hasn’t had any work

3: the weeks that a certain medical secretary has stalled

6: weeks it took to complete the spring cure

10: days until Daniel’s parents come back to the states

1: the years we’ve lived in THIS SAME APARTMENT

4: the places we’ve lived since we’ve been married

3: the years (nearly) we’ve been married

1: very nice first mother’s day (lunch out, window shopping, movie night at home)

3: spoonfuls of tomato soup that Nate ate and loved

8: pairs of pants and shorts tried on at mall

0: pairs of said pants and shorts that fit or look decent

1: awesome husband who saw the house was Dr. Pepper-less and who took it upon himself to correct the situation