I love to take a hot shower, I love to just stand under the shower head and let the water run down my head and neck, I usually can get in a little prayer time too and feel refreshed inside and out when I get out. I may get interrupted repeatedly with questions, but that’s okay, the water feels so good. As I stood there with my head tilted back I heard blood curdling screams coming from outside the door. “Bleeding, Blood, BLLOOOODD! Help me Mommy!” Harper’s voice almost unintelligible  from her panic.

My head lathered in shampoo, I opened the shower door, wipe the suds off my face to see Harper standing there, in one piece, uninjured, but extremely upset with one hand held high and close fisted. ” BLLEED BLOODD, BABY TOAD!”. ” Fix it Mommy, fix it,” The baby toad who looked like he may have been killed due to an attempt at being a bit over loved and squeezed was way past the point of CPR or any other life saving measures. Judah who walked in to ask Harper what was wrong quickly noticed the dead  baby toad in her hand and said. ” Sokay, Harper, Sokay Honey, I get you baby toad” and as fast as he flew in Judah was gone to fetch her another toad.

Harper was now soothed enough to go and help search for a new toad, and bury cover with dirt among the other dozens of dead toads in the flower bed outside the back door. And I shut the door to my still hot shower and finished rinsing out my  sud soaked head. I finished my shower and I was drying off, Harper and Judah came in my room again. This time Harper’s a bit peeved.

” Judah lost my new baby toad”

“Not lose it Harper, baby toad jump, I get you new baby toad”

” Okay, tank you Judah”

“sno poblem Honey”

And the twinkies ran back outside to our beautiful country land that has enough baby toads filling it to make Pharaoh consider letting the Israelites go.

I proceeded to get dressed, I put on my panties, deodorant, my maroon gypsy skirt and then my bra. My bra is not one of those precious sweet little printed pieces of lingerie you’d find at Victoria’s Secret. My bra due to my  great endowment is more like a piece of military equipment , with many hooks up the back, extra snaps and hooks around front all working together to enable me to walk with out tripping over them. It is a process to get it on and off.

I finished hiking my girls up and locking them in the apparatus when I felt something slightly brush my breast underneath the left side.  I fidgeted with my bra trying to fix it. Then I felt it again, but this time it lasted longer than a second or two, this time it was constant, and it was moving and I KNEW it was not the under side of my bra turned in.

I start screaming and trying to get it off, not knowing if it was a bug, a wasp, or something else lodged underneath inside the cup. As fast as I can I get the hooks unfastened and I am writhing and wiggling to pull it off. Half the kids are all in my room watching me. Judah and Solomon are standing near me laughing, “mommy dancing Solly” “I’m not dancing, it’s not funny” I reply back. Harper has walked in at some point, and as I finally fling my bra off my shoulders and onto the bed, I start brushing myself off. Harper runs towards the floor by the corner of our bed and excitedly scoops up off the green coverlet something and giddily exclaims. “You found it ! you found it, tank you mommy, you found my baby toad!” ” Oh my baby toad, i miss you, mommy, you found baby toad, tank you”

Judah runs out of my room yelling in his husky old man voice, “mommy found hawper’s baby toad, mommy found hawper’s baby toad”

Sweat drips from me after the adrenaline rush and flailing maneuvers. I grab my bra and shake it out to check for any other living creatures, a new thing I will be doing each and every time I put it on from now on. As I start to clasp it back up I hear. ” Harper Honey, be careful don’t squeeze it”. ” Oh no! Where’s the baby toad jump to, everybody look for it!”

It has been a whirlwind these past few weeks since that most joyous night. The next morning as we shared with close friends the unbelievable blessings, we all declared this  only to be the masterwork of our creator. We stated out loud that morning that nothing could steal our joy as we prayed before Bryan went to start his first day of work at a new job. That afternoon as our van went airborne and  rolled, we totalled our beloved Clifford the Big Red van, we said the enemy was at work but he would not steal our joy. We were all okay besides minor injuries. The enemy would NOT steal our joy,and he didn’t. The kids quickly figured out when I couldn’t accompany them into their xrays and cat scans at the ER after the accident that I must be pregnant. We shared our secret and thus the “family secret” began. They too had prayed for this baby, they have so wanted more siblings, all of them were overjoyed at the thought of another baby.

The past month has been constant talks about the new baby, looking at the first couple ultrasounds of a little bean and it’s twinkling heartbeat, a few close friends that love us for who we are, all shared in our joy. Despite the search for Clifford’s replacement, it’s been a party over here.

This morning as Bryan met me at the fancy ultrasound place, a kind but not personal ultrasound tech asked me to empty my bladder and lay on the cold hard table. A wand was prepared and inserted and immediately our precious baby popped up on screen. As it laid there still, Bryan and my eyes met. Both knowing what the other was feeling and thinking. Our hearts both sunk as we studied the stillness on the screen. The flickering little light had gone out and was no longer flashing. The sterile room that had brought us much joy previously, was now the place of  stolen joy. We have been to this sad land before. Too many times. The sweet anticipation that fills the air when you walk in sucked out  like a backdraft, trapping you in the fire of miscarriage. Almost stealing the air you breath, in the way you hold your breath that maybe the turn of the wand or that emphatic plea to God to let the flitter of the heart be seen again, let my eyes be wrong. But you know, your heart feels it before your eyes can register what you are seeing. It’s over, all the plans you’ve already made for this baby. The holidays you’ve already envisioned  , the baby names, the fullness you feel deep inside where your heart was pouring into this tiny piece of you and your best friend, that spot you patted frequently and smiled at the precious gift that any outsider wouldn’t know that you were carrying but only noticed the glow that only carrying an extra soul around can give you, gone, the life gone and that fullness replaced with the overwhelming heaviness that only one who has had to walk around with a dead baby inside of her can understand. We have walked this path before, it doesn’t make it any easier, each loss is a cut onto a bruise already there , over the scars that you thought had healed previously.

There is indescribable guilt, telling my precious children who were so excited, that again, my body has failed them, again they will have to wait to meet this brother or sister. I can only promise to that we will try again, that God has called us to one more by my womb and the enemy will not win this fight. We will have our happy ending.

My heart hurts today, my head hurts from crying. My heart aches for my children and my husband who all desperately wanted this blessing. My body has not figured out what has happened so I still feel pregnant, nauseous, tired, pukey.  I see my fabulous OB on Friday to see if my body can figure this out for itself or if I will have to have a d&c. I want to know how soon can I try again, it ‘s the passage of time until hope is renewed again that is the hardest for me. I know we are supposed to have another by birth and another to adopt. If our house would sell we could start the adoption process, but at the  moment ,time feels suspended except for the fact that tomorrow Canaan will be a day older and that much more farther apart from his youngest siblings, even less time to become friends and close siblings. All seems consuming, and it’s still all so raw and fresh.

I said that enemy could not steal our joy. There will still be joy in my heart and my house. And as much as my flesh doesn’t want to write and say it, my soul and my heart still say “The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away; may the name of the LORD be praised.” Job 1:21

It was a hot windless May day, falling the week of mother’s day. He left that morning in his maroon school tshirt  on the big yellow bus and when I picked up the sweaty, smiling boy with a large brown sack behind his back he immediately said ” You can not look in this bag, I got your mother’s day present, I used all my money and it’s so beautiful and you are going to love it so much”. The words flew out of his mouth so fast and in one breath that I had to ask him repeat what he said to make sure I didn’t mistake what he uttered.

That night with rainbowed wrapping paper he carefully wrapped and overtaped my present. Canaan walked around the rest of the week telling me repeatedly how much I would like my present, how he had picked it out just for me and he couldn’t wait until Sunday morning.

Bright and early as the sun started to creep in through the blinds, he jumped onto my sheets and climbed over my large round belly and handed me the brightly colored , covered in masking tape present. I quickly tore into the gift pulling at the tape to open the large rectangular box.  ” I wanted to make sure the wrapping paper stuck to the box” Canaan’s little voice squealed. He then helped me tear off the the last piece of off-white masking tape. His fingers were on top of mine as we both lifted the cover to the cardboard box. 

I grabbed the blue fabric folded up ever so neatly and unfolded it swiftly as Canaan spoke as fast as words would fall out of his mouth ” I knew this was perfect mommy, the stars reminded me of you because we like to lay outside and look at the stars with me, and you love the color blue, whacha think mommy? Do you love it?”

. Before I could even respond my eyes began to well up with tears, my body unable to process all the emotions flowing through me at the same time as I stared down at the large confederate flag draped over bed. It’s large blue vastness laid out in all it’s southern glory. Touched by the naivety of my sweet boy’s precious thoughtful gift and  hystercially laughing inside at the thought ” I feel pretty sure that I am the only mother of a black child that received a confederate flag for mother’s day”, in fact I am guessing I am the only mother of a black child to ever receive a confederate flag as a gift, for mother’s day or any day, I am a special woman.”

” Do you like it mommy? Do you? Can we hang it outside our house, PLEASE?” ” I want everyone to see what I got you”

I carefully chose my words.

” Canaan baby, this is too precious of a gift to let it flap in the wind, I would never want it to be destroyed, I want to keep it put in my hope chest with all my most special things. Would that be okay?

He sat there silently staring at me, all the while I am praying that I have not hurt his feelings but only imagining the many scenarios in my head of all the people who know we are biracial family ; perplexed  and horrified by the flag proudly displayed outside our house. Plus the irony, Bryan, who is a descendant of Nathan Bedford Forrest the founder of a certain organization that is abbreviated  with the same letter 3 times that comes after J in the alphabet,  having a black son who wants to proudly hang the confederate flag.

Canaan finally spoke again ” I can tell you like it because you only get water in your eyes like that when you’re sad or really happy, and you’re smiling so I know it’s cause you’re really happy. You can put in your chest if you want so it doesn’t get messed up. I know I have an idea, we could just take it out and use it in the house when we have people over for dinner, so that they can see how pretty it is.”I did good, huh mommy? Is the this the best present you have ever got?”

“Yes, baby, this is one of my very favorites ever, thank you.”

And it still is.

Years ago in order to save a little money Bryan became our resident barber. All of our boys get their haircuts from the daddy. So yesterday afternoon was no different. Judah was perched on the potty in the bathroom, the clippers were brought in, hair was wet and in typical Judah fashion he had NO desire to sit still. Bryan asked him calmly to sit, tried to bribe him, begged, pleaded and then called for my help.  I sat down on the cold porcelain and gingerly lifted an already reaching Judah onto my lap. His always warm soft fingers grabbed my ear and pulled me down to his mouth.

” secret mommy, no cut for Judah Ok? Mommy tell daddy no cut for Judah”

 ” Judah baby, just be still for mommy, I need your hair cut, I’ll hold you, you just be still” 

” NO cut, no cut for Judah, not day, No NO NO!”

He is now struggling to get out of my arms and his torso is contorting in impressive gymnastical ways to get from my grips.

” Judah, why won’t you let daddy cut your hair, just sit here on mommy and be still”

“No be still, I fight” ( Judah calls light saber duels -fights)

A couple of months ago at Mandy’s , she led a small group of us women in some quiet time with God. One of the many precious things she prepared was random scriptures to read. One of the slips of paper spoke to me and has stayed with me. When I say it or think it, it is the fingers of God carressing my head and hair in a gentle loving motion putting my restless heart and mind at ease.

Exodus 14:14 ” The Lord will fight for you, you need only be still” 

Judah was speaking to me yesterday. Yes, he didn’t want  a haircut, but I only want him to look his best and be able to see clearly without the wisps of silkiness getting into his eyes. 

I have hair in my eyes, my sight is obstructed with the worries.  I am constantly telling God,” I have a secret, I am scared, Bryan still has no job, no one is looking at our old house that’s now for sale, we need to move in June, my heart is broken again from another miscarriage, I want to fight”.  It’s hard to see, I  keep twisting and turning. I keep trying to fix things, I keep running, questioning, arguing.  I’ve been in such a funk,  foolishly and blindly thinking that I can control what’s going on, that somehow by fighting with the enemy and allowing him to steal my joy instead just being still and letting God fight for me that I’ll be better for trying to fight it.

And yet I don’t listen He’s telling me how to regain my sight. 

“The Lord will fight for you, you need only to be still”

As I held Judah I whispered in his ear for a couple of moments, ” Mommy’s here, I will hold you, don’t be scared be still, just sit right here and be still so I can play with your hair when daddy’s finished.” Within about 2 minutes my twinkie boy’s body became almost mushy as he calmly collapsed in my arms and let me hold his head still while Bryan delicately trimmed his hair. 10 minutes later with a light blond dusting of hairs on the cream colored linoleum floor, Judah was looking good and back running around the house with a light saber in hand. 

Bryan shouted from the bathroom, “Gideon, you’re next. Come here please”

Judah stopped running as he approached Gideon and said ” so-kay gid-in, just be still, be still.”

In honor of my favorite guy, he’s few funny things that make me love him even more.

When Bryan had menegitis, the only thing that he could say was ” I love my Kroger plus card, we use it a lot because we buy a lot of milk”. He didn’t know his name, the name of his children, where he was or anything else. But the infectous disease doctors and residents all enjoyed coming by to ask a very sick Bryan ” How are you feeling Mr. Foriest?” and chuckling when he told them of the great deal we get on milk.

At one of Canaan’s baseball games last summer one of the parents from the opponent’s team approached Bryan and said, ” I think it’s so great that you support your little brother like this. I see you with your mom and all your brothers and sisters and you are always here cheering on your brother. That’s really sweet.” Bryan confused asked what she was talking about. She replied ” You’re  that cute little black boy’s older brother aren’t you?”. Kindly, Bryan replied ” Uhh No, I am his dad, these are all my kids, that’s my wife right there.”  ( I have a couple of problems with this, first do I look like I could be Bryan’s MOTHER? And 2, Bryan has retained his youthfulness, but seriously an older brother?!)

When Malachi was born he was sooo worried that someone might try to swap babies that he brought a thick permanent marker to the delivery to immediately write Foriest on his tiny newborn foot.

2 days after we got our chocolate colored, afroed sweet baby Canaan and we went to get our first family portrait taken.  Bryan got a haircut at the Regis hair place in the mall. As he sat in the chair discussing in great detail the wonderful things about being a new parent and how perfect and beautiful Canaan was yet never mentioning that we adopted, just  ” I still can’t believe I became a daddy this week, it the most amazing thing. He’s the most beautiful baby, have you seen him, he’s sitting there with my wife, isn’t he amazing I love his dark silky curls?” The hairdresser next to Bryan leaned over to the one cutting his hair and in a loud whisper for every one to hear declared. ” Wow, i can’t believe he hasn’t figure out that baby’s not his. You see him? He not dat baby’s daddy”.  

I love that he could eat a 10 course meal but if one of those courses were not dessert he wouldn’t feel like he’s eaten a full meal. I am blessed beyond measure to be gifted with a husband that wanted this great family I have, as much as I do and is never too old to play with our kids. I love that if I want a glimpse into the past and what he must’ve have been like, I can look at Gideon and see the reflection of little Bryan staring back at me. I love that he pushes me to love the Lord deeper, trust more, and loves me for me.  I love this old man of mine. I love that he tenderly calls me Ladybug more often than using Valerie when he wants something. I love my old maynard and think age looks mighty good on him.

Harper woke up this morning crawled under the sheets and said ” happy birthday judah today”. A few minutes later Judah walked in and the first thing uttered from his mouth was “happy birt-day honey” and then broke out in song to his “honey”. Harper shouted ” Twinkie Love ! ” (This is the phrase that has been developed over the past few years when Harper and Judah find each other numerous times during the day with out streched arms and bear hug one another. This can be done in times of elation or times when one of them just got in trouble by the mommy/daddy  and the troubled twink is looking for sympathy.)

We have a family tradition that every hour you are awake you get to open a little “dollar zone” kind of gift on the day of your birthday. We started this years ago and every non birthday sibling is as excited as the birthday child to give the little wrapped trinkets on the hour and it makes the birthday last all day and is just special for everyone and keeps the excitement up.

Brysan, Aidan and  I ran to Kroger after giving them their first little present and after Brysan picked out the best looking bags of sour gummy worms, we came home with Harper’s favorite powdered sugar donuts. Malachi was about to pee his pants to give the twins their costumes. Malachi and Aidan brought them in laid them in front of them them and they went crazy playing in them and Judah refusing to remove it for the next hour. Because we couldn’t wait to really blow their mind, Addison and Bryan go outside to get  their big big present ready. ( 2 months ago I found the motorized  jeep I’ve been wanting for them on craigslist, we’ve never had one for any of our kids and so we were all so excited to see them receive the jeep). 

Unsure of which one of us 10 was more excited to witness the unveiling of the jeep. We all stood around with smiles as Judah and Harper went crazy. Judah drove and Harper was too busy cackling and laughing to gripe out directions and orders. The entire day has been full of joy, love and the confirmation once again from my Heavenly Father that He called us to this amazing job. It is days like to day that make me so tickled to have 10 children and the desire to be blessed again. 

Twinkie love today erased all fears that weigh on our shoulders, blessed peace was gifted to us for today. All the stresses of houses, jobs, money and other things will be waiting for us, but today we were all just in the moment all reveling in the multiplied joy that came to us 2 at a time 3 years ago.

Time has flown when I think that at  9:51 3 years ago tonight after many many hours of my fabulous OB trying to turn an ornery baby boy who had his feet stuck in my cervix,an emergency c section was done and a feisty blond 5 pound 10 oz baby boy was pulled from my womb. 3 minutes later his screaming sister who was a whopping 4 pounds 10 ounces was pulled out as well. My fabulous OB shouted out  ” you’ve got one of each Valerie, that will make all your kiddos happy”.  Happy doesn’t adequately describe the joy felt when after 4 months of  bedrest. And the love of our beloved twinkies didn’t start at that announcement of their arrival. The saying it takes a village couldn’t be more true.  Without the amazing group of our homeschool family we would not have carried these precious bundles to term. We had Godly women in our house daily loving my children like their own, feeding my family, scrubbing my toilets and committed to giving these twinkies inside me the very best chance possible. I am pretty sure no other twins have been more loved by such a large group of people. Every day when I look at Judah and Harper’s precious faces I am thankful for the hands and feet of Jesus. 

Judah and Harper multiplied the joy when they joined us on the outside. Judah had an 8 day nicu stay that separated them at birth. With in minutes of being reunited 7 days later Judah put his arm around her and she snuggled into him.They have been inseparable ever since. Everything in their little lives revolves around the other one. We had always wanted wanted twins and it has been better than we even imagined it to be. We love you twinkies– Judah Pie and Harper Honey.

As the sunrise brought light into our room after being mercifully given a couple hours of sleep with no vomiting, children began to filter into our room. Each one recognized by their cough as they sauntered down the hall. Six of ten with RSV. A week unlike any other. Such sweet sick kiddos each one burdened by the thickness in their lungs and high raging fevers that struck fear into us. A plagued house of illness that brought much crying and holding and even laughter at the comedy of errors that struck our humble abode.  Holding constantly, somebody, at all times no matter what. Crying from every child who was scared or didn’t want to do their breathing treatment, crying that the stomach bug decided to re-rear its ugly head today and now on top of still chunky coughing children, vomitrociousness is back in rare, fine coat- your- mother form.

Laughter because all tragedy begets comedy even if its dark comedy. Laughter is the saving grace when vomits pools in your ear. Or when waiting in the pediatrician’s office with a sick red cheeked hacking baby who is fussy and squirming in your arms with no consolation and the little boy in the waiting who is running around crazy and not acting ill who keeps trying to make conversation with me and kept saying “ta-tas, ta-tas”. I thought I was just misunderstanding his toddler speak and assumed he was telling me about Tom and Jerry playing in the waiting room. His father never making eye contact with me when I tried to give him a friendly smile. After waiting about 10 minutes and standing up to walk Solomon around in an attempt to calm him down I notice that Solomon had kicked the neck line of my shirt down and my black bra was being seen by all and the little boy was not explaining the antics of a cat and mouse but pointing out my tatas. Embarrassed I fixed my shirt and stood with my back to the back of the bashful father in the waiting room. 

More humor when after being thrown up on again for the 5 the time tonight by Harper after bathing decided I still felt germy and grabbed the bottle of germ-x and lathered my whole body with it in an attempt to antibacterialize myself. Warning to anyone who thinks that might be a good idea after one has taken no less than 10 showers in 2 days, scrubbing herself clean and having just freshly shaved her legs. WOW oh OUCH, the “cooling” alcohol that you feel on the palm of your hands turns to fire on your shaved legs and the scrape on your elbow. Lesson learned.

Hilarious laughter heard by my children tonight after my 4th shower due to the 4th round of spew and vomit and fresh out of the shower my hair still wrapped in a towel I make the comment that ” I am not picking any one up because I am clean and I must have some kind of super power to make people spew”. The kids tell me that would be a great super power, while having this discussion, Harper walks up to me and with out thinking I pick her up and cradle her in my lap. No later than 30 seconds pass.. you guessed it- another volcanic eruption all over me. 

I am not a homebody. I am feeling stir crazy and beginning to think a pretty padded room with one of those neat jackets that hug yourself might be in my future if we continue on this path of sickdom. I have gone through 2 full bottles of Tide, a can of lysol and mopped and wiped every surface with it as well  in my feeble attempt to keep things at bay. The 4 ( Canaan, Addison, Aidan, Gideon) who have yet to fall told me all my trying has paid off. The 6 who are plagued beg to differ. RSV is supposed to last around 8 days which means  we should receive our pardon soon. With the stomach bug I am hoping we are soon reprieved from it as well and we will get to dwell among the land of the well very soon. I will take all the prayers  you would like to pass this way. I look forward to the date with my pillow tonight and hope my fun  picnic dreams do not take place at Mount Vesuvious.

Bryan is the bodily fluids handler of the house.  Even the sound of the up chuck instantly turns me into the most empathic mother as I start gaging myself and join in on the events and that helps no one. Years ago Bryan decided in times of vomit I am to be most helpful by covering  my ears and breathing through my nose as to not smell or hear and end up adding to his cleaning up duties.  So at my heralding ” He’s throwing up!” Bryan dons his invisible super hero cape and swoops in to save not just the night but the carpet too. 

Gideon is now crying and covered in vomit, as Bryan whisks him to the bathroom he starts again, Solomon is crying softly. Bryan accidental head kick wakes him, and as I sit up in the bed trying to nurse him while tuning out the vomit all around. Harper comes in our room crying. She stumbles towards the bed while I try to help direct her away from the mess on the floor. As I pick her up I feel her sweaty pajamas touch my arm. When I pull her to my face the heat radiates off her and as Harper starts coughing like a chain smoker I know that Gideon is not the only sickie in the house. 

Within 10 minutes Bryan has put Gideon in the bathtub, and cleaned up the floor next to our bed. I am nursing Solomon on one breast and cradling a hot Harper to the other. A shivering feverish Gideon is wrapped in a towel, gingerly laid on the bed drifts off to sleep in the fetal position before we can get him back into clean pj’s.  

Gideon continues to wake up every 30 minutes or so and Bryan picks him and carries him back to the bathroom. Morning comes too soon, my eyes burn and I feel as though I am drugged as I fight  the daylight and need to awaken and start the day. It is Solomon’s precious 1st birthday.  As much as I want the day to be all about him, and as hard as we try to do just that he’s not himself either. Almost intuitively feeling all my insecurites  and worries Solomon is not himself . He is not the joyful baby that normally fills our home with smiles. He is extra clingy, fussy and unwilling to let me put him down. 

Gideon wallows back and forth between sleeping and vomiting. Harper’s fever is not tamed by the tylenol and we make the trip to the dr. and RSV is diagnosed with the warning of how very  contagious it is and while we haven’t seen signs of it in any one else be prepared for it to spread. 

The afternoon is vomit free, the virus appears to be short lived and Gideon is willing to drink some sprite and munch a cracker. Harper still puny and we try to refocus our afternoon to be all about Solomon. We have an impromtu family meeting to plan his meal. Bryan casually says that we should serve what he loves the most, above all else. The baba or aka breast milk. The kids think this is hilarous and we bunny trail on a “deep” discussion of  a breast shaped cake, breast milk homemade ice cream, mashed potatoes creamed  with breastmilk. They all think they are so funny as they crack one another up with their vulgar recipes. Seriousness finally regains and his favorite foods are created in the kitchen for dinner: gourmet mac and cheese with guyere cheese and bacon, fried apples, creamed corn. We make him a chocolate cake with fresh carmel icing, with me standing nearby so he can wash it down with his favorite beverage.

Solomon is not intersted in his dinner or his cake. Foreshadowing music should begin playing here. If you close your eyes and listen you can hear the cellos and the violins playing their somber notes letting us all know that something bad is coming.

The boogeyman wasn’t creeping around the corner, but as bedtime came and sleep  was too short lasting once again the sounds of the chain smokers were back. Dark juicy wet coughs were heard coming closer and closer. In the dark haze I see that Brysan is standing next to me coughing up a lung. A drink of water and she is in our bed. Judah comes coughing next. Morning comes with a full bed of coughing children. Bryan gets up to get into the shower and I am left with a sweet cuddly Solomon sandwiched between Judah and I. The jersey knit sheets pulled up around us as we stay cocooned in bed. Then I hear it, the noise of a stomach bug coming not out of the mouth but the other end. “Uh Oh” says Judah, and before either of us could react, we are both covered in liquid nastiness. It’s all over a stunned Judah, Solomon is soaked, and it is in my hair, on my shirt on my arm. I jump up trying to strip pj’s off and hand now naked filthy babies to Bryan in the shower, I am now shirtless while I try to get what’s on me  washed off so I can strip the sheets that are covered. 

Our day doesn’t get much better as we have feverish coughing pathetic precious children all needing me at the same time. All wanting to be in my lap, all wanting to lay on my chest. Solomon needing the momma, unable to keep anything down at either end and his cough and flushed cheeks growing deeper. Laundry that’s constantly being rotated due to the constant volcanic activity. Feeling guilty every time I have to take a fussy child off my lap to tend to every one else. Unable to be everything that I need to be to each of  their little hearts. 10 children never feels like too many children, and even today in all of my inadequacies to fulfill their needs,  I am blessed, I still feel one missing, I still feel honored that God called me to be covered in poop.

Brysan was born with the best suck of all the kids. She had “hoover lips” and would latch onto anything. She came out like a baby bird stretching her sweet little head around rooting and latched on like an old nursing pro at 2 minutes old and never stopped eating. One afternoon as I was in the shower and Brysan was about 2 weeks old napping swaddled in the crook of our overstuffed cushy couch and 3 year old Malachi was sweetly playing on the floor with Aidan, Addison and Canaan, Brysan began to stir. I had just turned off the water upstairs in the bathroom and could hear her making those bird like chirpy fussy noises that only newborns can make. I quickly dried off and yelled down to Canaan to keep an eye on her and I’d be down there in just a minute. Her little noises grew into a full on hungry angry cry and as quickly as I could ,I finished drying off and dressed. And as fast as the angry cry started it stopped.  Brysan was silent. Maybe 30 seconds passed and I hear Malachi in his sweet toddler voice screaming,  ” No NO NO NO I don’t have special any special milk, OUCH NO I don’t have special milky, NO NO NO special milky, I have no special milky, I have no special milk”. In my attempt to kill myself by running down the stairs and slipping on the carpeted steps to try to get to Malachi and the baby to find out what’s wrong with Malachi, I slide down the last 4 steps and land at the bottom. 

As I round the corner, perched on the couch with his blond bowl cut hair framing his little sweaty face and green eyes large and round staring at me with fear and and pain Malachi’s blue gingham checked button up shirt is pulled up and ol hoover lips Brysan has latched on about an inch above his sweet little nipple.  The skin is pulled from his chest taut and tight as Brysan is determined to get milk out of his little bony chest. Malachi still chanting over and over in his half panic half scream ” I have no special milky, I have no special milk” over and over as I grab Brysan and release her lips and the vacuum she’s created. As I pull her away towards me,  I see at the same time as Malachi  and we look at the large red hickey the size of a silver dollar tattooed on Malachi’s  pink skin.

Malachi immediately starts to explain himself. “Baby Bison was hungry mama, I helper mommy, mommy’s helper,  I try to feed her, I don’t  have no special milk, I don’t have milky in my babas, she tried to eat me, Bison try to eat me, it’s owie, look where she try and  eat me, I have no special milk.”  I explained to Malachi that only mommies have milk and while he would occasionly try to nurse his stuffed lovey “puppy foriest”, He never tried to nurse a sibling again. 

As I lay a sleepy drunk Solomon down with the milky dripping out of the corners of his mouth I am thankful for the gift of nursing. I can’t think of a better way to spend so many hours these past 10 years. And I am thankful that my children find it just as normal, so normal that even they don’t mind trying to share the milky.

Her labor surprised us, she was my first baby to gift me with the joy of spontaneous  labor. My other 2 births up to that point both made it to their induction date at 37 weeks. We had ordered a new camera that had not come in yet. So my inlaws graciously let us borrow their new digital camera. The camera was given to the nurse during her delivery and I didn’t really think anything else about it until a week or so after we were home and mother in law said she’d print out the pictures we had taken. The nurse who must have shadowed as a photographer by night took many many pictures, that if all printed out could have produced a lovely color flip book showing the miracle of birth. It was embarrassing enough to know there were pictures of my nether regions splayed out for us to see. It’s takes it to a whole other place to know that they are on your inlaw’s camera and they found them first. The pictures were printed and put in a folder and given to me to place in a safe place and after that I never really thought about them again.

Fast forward to a year or so later and all of Bryan’s extended family has gathered at his parent’s house. There are 30 or so plus people at the house. In the kitchen where most of the family gathers, sits their computer with a constant slide show playing of random photographs on the screen, each one displaying somewhere between 5-10 seconds. As we all stand there chit chatting, eating and enjoying one another’s company I hear my brother in law Chad calling my name. I turn towards him and his eyes are trying to quickly glance to the computer screen to get me to look with out using words or making his motions obvious. I then move my eyes towards the screen and loudly gasp. Loudly enough that everyone in the room is now looking at the screen that I have turned to face. And on the screen in only Valerie timing instead of the thousands of random pictures that could have sequentially come across the screen is a pictures of my legs in stirrups taken from behind my doctor’s head with full view of Brysan’s black head crowning. I heard what’s that, coming across the screen as the picture dissolved in the next one which I was sure would be some random fishing picture or of Christmas. But in those lottery odds that we all too often hit in our family, but never the actual lottery it is another picture of the beautiful Brysan crowning and my lady bits close up for all in the room to see. I had NO IDEA that those pictures were still on their computer. I assummed that when she gave me the folder of printed pictures the evidence was destroyed.  It is one of those moments that 5 seconds seems more like an hour and your brain wants to process to make your body move to stop the act taking place but instead is held motionless unable to save yourself. THE LONGEST 5 SECONDS OF MY LIFE.  

The sweat pouring down my back and the adrenile running through my body at the sheer embarassment of situation would have rendered me the ability to lift a car at that moment. And the unspoken horror of the rest of room who had just been invited unknowingly into my birthing room was just as priceless.

The pictures were quickly removed from their computer to prevent such anatomy lessons from taking place again at a family affair and their camera has never been borrowed again for such intimate experiences.

You have never failed to make an entrance since and we love you for it.

Happy Birthday Brysan ! Thank you for being our princess, for being Aidan’s best friend, for the fashion lessons and doing everything you do with such fever and passion. You are a joy to know and love and I it’s a an honor to have been picked by God to be your mommy.