What's The Plan, Man?

Routine is a beautiful thing. Some kids go with the flow beautifully, even when that flow may be all over the place. Other kids [insert: Addie and Bria] ere a little more on the side of creatures of habit.  There seems to be a direct correlation between absence of routine and increase in meltdowns, funky sleep resulting in more meltdowns, maddening eating habits resulting in more meltdowns, and swings from happiness to misery, resulting in parental meltdowns. Basically, our kids seem to like when days are predictable and we get ‘in the swing’ of things. So we are pretty happy to be settling into Fall and the lovely routine it brings!

One of those lovely routine items is school. Adalyn is in her last year of pre-k and Bria just started in the two year old class. While I was absolutely convinced that Addie still had two more years until kindergarten, Sheaff, Google, and Simply Paying Attention let me know that in fact, that is right around the corner next year. #wtfdth (When The Firetruck Did That Happen??) At any rate, according to her reports, exciting things of this year include: who is the line leader of the day; letter bag collections for ‘show and tell;’ lego building (YEEES); seeing Bria on the playground; fire drills. She also may pull out of her shyness just long enough to give Mr. Linwood a high five before she goes off to kindergarten.

When we brought Adalyn her first year, she cried for the first 2 weeks every day. It was heartwrenching.  Bria’s all like, “Bye Mom. I doing stuff here.” Bria loves carrying her lunchbox even if she only eats 1/500^th of what’s in there; loves going on “big slide, weee!” and “tiny slide, aww!” with her buddies; and thought said firedrill was loud. Apparently the first week, she didn’t say a word, but now she will happily answer yes, no, and sing Happy Birthday at top volume. Her favorite things there are “kitchen” and “baby.” We think her speech may be more comprehensible by college, but we’ll see.

The girls are also in a phase where they love to match. Hair, clothes, socks, batman underwear, the whole 9 yards. However, Bria has a hard time keeping up with Adalyn’s changing pace, which thus far is still about 34 outfits per hour, thus Little Sis mostly gallops around in her underwear after a while. It works.  We’ll start up a Parks and Rec “Mommy and Me” ballet class with some friends in October, which should be one of the funniest things the world has seen in a while. I’m still looking for a tutu and secretly hope Leslie Knope organized the class. Or perhaps Andy and April. Or Tom. Shoot, I’d take Gary. I miss that show!

Sheaff is still working away , and I now “get”/ laugh at a tumblr gif website for accountants/auditors, which tells me I’m actually listening to him when he talks about what he does. #wifepoints

I’m into the swing of teaching at LC again, and love getting to know a new set of students in each class. I have learned that if a student asks you for a stapler, and you respond with an Office Space quote, you are officially outdated. That movie came out in 1999. #wtfdth?? Also, who is Dave Matthews, they ask.  However, turns out we all know and love Peppa Pig and Space Jam. Hit ‘em high, hit ‘em high, hit ‘em high.

I was rather hesitant to share this next part – and perhaps a bit apprehensive – but our culture is just now starting to open up about women (and men) sharing and processing their hardships of loss, and I feel like sharing is an important way to be part of the conversation that makes miscarriage less taboo.  We’ve had a bit of a rollercoaster-y (yes the English teacher makes up many words) few months. Right at the year mark of when we got pregnant with Abram last year, we found out we were pregnant again, only to learn the pregnancy likely wasn’t viable and miscarried shortly after. Fortunately (we suppose) It had nothing to do with what went wrong with Abram. His was a rare complication, and a very severe form of it. This was a ‘common’ miscarriage, one that happens in nearly a third of pregnancies.

What we’ve found is that miscarriages suck, even ours that was extremely early-on and uncomplicated for the most part. We know that this baby barely even got the chance to start forming, and emotionally, for us, this was a very different situation than when we lost Abram. But, especially with the timing, it certainly made the crashing down of hopes a little more raw on the heart. I felt sadness. I felt a bit caught unaware, as I expected to be worried later in the pregnancy, not at the very beginning. I felt frustrated with my body. Tired of it being complicated, of a positive pregnancy test not promising anything. I felt guilty to hope for another baby when we are so lucky to have two in our arms. Relief that this was at least very early on. More guilt thinking of the many moms who have miscarriages without other children, miscarriages in later weeks, multiple miscarriages, scary miscarriages, lonely miscarriages. I felt gratitude for the doctors and faithful Erin who give us copious amounts of medical knowledge and reassurance. I felt more gratitude for our family and friends who were nothing but supportive and loving and understanding. I felt and feel impatience with HCG levels, creeping downwards to a normal level again at a snail’s pace. Tired of bloodwork draws, a weekly reminder of hopes lost. And with it all, I felt every crack in my heart for Abram throb even more, rubbing that wound raw again, flashing back to the night after we found out, unable to fathom our baby who was turning in my belly not surviving. I felt the what-if’s whispering. I felt warily helpless. Again.

I know it happens. And I know we are okay. And I know most of all how much I admire so many women, whose rollercoasters and losses are even more turbulent, and the strength and quiet, steady love they carry within their hearts.

Ironically, for being a fan of routine so much, the last year has taught me that plans are never guaranteed, no matter where you are in them. As someone who has been color-coding planners since college and craves lists, decisions being made, plans being set… I’ve had to learn that life is just constantly seeing how dreams and reality mix, and going from there. And if I can’t plan the unknown, I can at least pack lunches, plan classes, and hit that carpool line every day and rejoice in the routine we do have. When it’s filled in with your daughters’ matching Star Wars skirts,  a few Doc McStuffins check ups, cousin parades through the house, late night ice cream with the hubs, and dinners around the table listening to whatever game the girls have thought up next, I think I’ll take how life has unfolded so far.