There are so many official “days” and “months” on the US calendar anymore, that sometimes it seems a little absurd. Today, however, is one that means a little more to me. In 2006, congress declared October 15th to be Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. So, I wanted to take a minute to remember Mason, who would have been 2 years and 5 months old today. I lost Mason in December of 2006, before I started the blog, so I never really got to record his story.

Our only picture of Mason

I found out I was pregnant in September of 2006, just weeks after Nick had accepted a position in Portland and had moved down without us, while we waited for our house to sell in Seattle. It was tough going at first, as I had a small toddler and was essentially a single mom trying to sell our house, and I had horrible nausea around the clock. But, we were extremely excited, as we had gotten pregnant much quicker than we had anticipated, and loved the idea of having our kids close together.

Other than the nausea, things went quickly and well, and we finally moved into our house in October. It was actually 3 years ago today, as a matter of fact. I found a midwife here who I adored and was quickly out of the first trimester, and started to get a bit of energy back.

On December 5th, I went in for our routine midterm ultrasound. Looking back after the fact, I knew something was wrong at this point, but hadn’t been able to even acknowledge it to myself. For the week before that, I had suddenly stopped waking up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, and felt as though my pants had stopped getting tighter by the day.

So, when we got in to the ultrasound and the tech had a strange look on her face, I knew something was indeed wrong. She had me use the restroom to see if we could get the baby in a better spot, but even as I was in there, I knew what was happening. I came back and she looked once more before telling us she was going to get the doctor. Nick and my mom were very confused once she left, so I had to tell them there was no heartbeat. The doctor confirmed this when he came back.

It felt so odd at that point because I wasn’t surprised. I felt almost relieved, like it had been a horrible secret I had been inadvertently carrying for the last week. That feeling didn’t last long, however, before it gave way to the tears and sorrow.

The personnel at my clinic were wonderful, however, and handled the situation wonderfully. I met with my midwife who gave me my options. Because I was 20 weeks along, I could choose to have the baby surgically removed, or I could choose to deliver. At that point, I just wanted it out, but she wanted to make sure I didn’t make any quick decisions, and wanted me to wait until the morning to decide, after I met with the surgeon. I will forever be grateful that she required me to wait.

My mom had to leave and go home the next day, and Nick had to go back to work, so I met with the surgeon by myself in the morning. She tried to explain my options to me, but I didn’t quite understand what she was telling me. It finally clicked what would happen if I went with the D&C route, when she asked me if I wanted to be able to see my baby. I wouldn’t have that option unless I delivered.

I decided I did want to see it, so she quickly called my midwife, who happened to be on call at the hospital at that time. She sent me straight there from the clinic. The hospital staff was prepared to greet me, and took care of me with the utmost respect and dignity. Nick arrived after a couple of hours. They administered some medications that would ripen my cervix and cause me to deliver the baby, but it took a number of doses and a number of hours. Finally, some time around 3 in the morning on December 7th, it was time. I called the midwife in and delivered a tiny little baby boy, whom we named Mason. His umbilical cord was wrapped 3 times tightly around his neck, and my midwife believed this may have been what caused his death, though we’ll have no way to ever know for sure.

I was amazed at the care that the hospital showed us. They took him and weighed and measured him, just as the would have done with any newborn. He weighed 7 ounces and was 8 1/2 inches long. They gave us an unofficial birth certificate with his tiny foot prints on it. Using a black & white disposable camera, they also took pictures of us holding him, which they gave to us to choose to develop or not. The camera, along with tiny infant clothing were placed in a beautiful keepsake box for us.

We have not developed the pictures. I am not altogether sure I want to trade the picture in my head in for reality. Though it was a difficult experience, thanks to the hospital staff and our friends and family, it also became a spiritual one. Being able to deliver him and see him gave us the closure that we might otherwise not have had. Knowing that it was most likely due to an umbilical cord accident let me loose some of the blame I had saddled on my own shoulder, despite my midwife’s best attempts to convince me that there was nothing I could have done.

Almost exactly one year later, we were blessed with another wonderful and perfect baby boy. I was concerned to have another boy right away, because I didn’t want to feel as though he was “replacing” Mason, and making everything “okay” and “right” in the cosmic scheme of things. I know now, though, that one does not replace the other. Mason was our son, and we respect that and miss the life that could have been. We honor the things he has done for us, and the lessons he has taught us. And we praise God for the healthy and beautiful son that we have with us today.

So, to all of my wonderful friends and family out there who have lost as we have (and I know there are many of you), I light my virtual candle with you on this day as we celebrate and remember.

Last year, our friends recommended a Pumpkin Patch to us that they always go to every year. We had a great time, and decided we needed to make it a tradition as well. And this year, it was bigger, better and WAY more fun without a baby in a stroller.

Bauman Farms is way more than your typical Pumpkin Patch. They have a TON of activities that both kids and parents can enjoy. It costs a pretty penny ($10 a person over the age of 2!), but for a once a year tradition, we’ve decided we can swing it.

Click for larger version

We got there right after opening this year, which was perfect and allowed us to participate in all our favorite activities before the real crowds started showing up. Our top picks this year included the Zip Line, Covered Wagon Hay Ride, The Kids Zone, The Hay Castle, The Corn Maze, The Jumping Pillow, Kids Hay Maze, the Frontier Fort with Slides, and the Hazelnut Pit. Mom and Dad also liked the Dark Maze (that’s right, totally dark inside) but the kids weren’t huge fans.

I finally got video uploads working again, for your viewing pleasure:

At the end of September, Nick took the kids on one such aforementioned hike, to Wahclella Falls on the Columbia River Gorge. He was lucky this time and was able to find not only a friend for Mylie, but her dad came too, so Nick got to have a buddy as well. This is one of his favorite hikes, and the kids seem to always do amazingly well. Mylie was excited to wear her hiking backpack the whole time, and Nolan can always be seen sporting his Indiana Jones hat. The kids made it the whole time without complaining, and even got to watch the salmon spawning.

And me? I shampooed the carpets, got my hair cut, and went to dinner with a friend. A lovely adventure indeed.

Let’s face it… I didn’t really ever want boys. I saw them as rambunctious creatures who destroyed property as little kids and were rude to their mothers as teens. I was a girl mom… ready to teach them to dance and sing and…well… do girly things.

And then I met Nolan.

Even up until I gave birth to him, I still secretly hoped the ultrasound was wrong and that he’d end up being a girl. But as soon as I met him I knew there had been a giant boy-shaped Nolan-sized whole in my life that was now filled.

And boy has he got me wrapped around his little finger. It doesn’t help that he is now in my all-time favorite kid stage. You know, where they are now able to communicate and really learn things, and everything they say is adorable? And even their tantrums don’t hold much weight (especially as a second child… “Whatever buddy. I’ve heard it all before. You’ve got to be MUCH more convincing than THAT if you expect me to react.”).

Some of my favorite things:
*Nolan is OBSESSED with trains. He will point out EVERY rail road crossing we come to in the car, ones that I’ve never even realized existed. He loves those Brio-type train sets (no, we don’t have one yet), and he will scream for 45 minutes after you drag him away from one… even if he’s had the good fortune to play with it for over an hour. When he gets ahold of the little train cars, he piles them in his arms and won’t even set them down to play with, lest some other kid even think about taking one for even a second.
*He is slightly less obsessed with planes. He loves to point them out too. And make anything fly.
*He is a total book worm. He would be perfectly content to have me read to him all day. Every day.
*He is great at entertaining himself.
*He refuses to call any animals by their names. He will only call them by the sounds they make. Nolan, what’s that? “Neigh!” You’re right, that’s a horse. Can you say horse? “Neigh!!” Yes, the horsey says neigh, but can you say HORSE? “Neigh!!!!!” (You get the picture).
*He can also roll his ‘r’s. You know, like when speaking spanish? Or like a motorboat? He learned how to do it at nine months, and it makes a very good motorcycle immitation, with which he obliges us anytime a motorcycle drives by.
*His vocabulary is exploding. Of course, most people still wouldn’t understand it, but we do! And he does have a tendency to say everything backward… Cookie= Eekoo, for instance.
*He loves to copy anything Mylie says, does, thinks, etc. And he has started saying prayers at night too, which just melts my heart.

I truly love this kid. I cry just about every time I look at him though, because I think, every day he gets one day older, and one day closer to being three years old, when I won’t like him anymore. Sad. Oh well, I’ll enjoy him while I can!

Being the bad and lazy mother I am, I didn’t really actually do any updates for Mylie on her birthday this year. Nor did I post her first day of school pictures. So, to redeem myself, I’m combining it all into one. Here. Now. Better than nothing, right?

Mylie started her second year of preschool in September. This year, instead of going to the high school program, we have opted to do a co-op. I wanted to try my hand at being a little more proactive in her education, as last year I found it was a little to easy to sit back and watch (or not watch, as the case may be). So, we found a wonderful curriculum and a little group of 8 kids and have jumped in with two feet. Mylie seems to be having a great time, and if you ask her she will consistently tell you that her favorite part of preschool is “snack.”

And where to I begin with the updates?

Mylie is four. She loves to mention that to any guests at our house. She is so very excited to be so grown up, and I have to say the feeling is mutual. By the end of her “threes,” I wasn’t sure if she and I were going to make it much longer under the same roof. And though we are still challenged at times, I am able to see a very tiny light at the end of the tunnel. Tantrums have toned down a bit, as has her obsessive compulsions over things like textures and dirt and the tightness of her clothes. Those things still bother her, but she is developing better coping skills to handle them, especially when she can’t change them. I’ll hear her say things like, “I’m going to deal with it, Mom,” which is a HUGE step for us.

By the end of summer, Mylie was really ready to get back to dance. She got to move up to the next level this year, which moves much faster, and keeps her on her toes (no pun intended….really!). She really does have a budding talent, and has been able to recognize the value of practicing. She will say, “Look Mom! I’ve been practicing!” when she gets something right.

I’ve also started giving her some informal piano lessons. I broke out my old Level 1 piano books, and she’s been enjoying them. Now, before you go accusing me of bragging or being one of those pushy stage moms, let me clarify. I’ve come to the realization this year that I am just not crafty. I don’t have a huge wall of craft supplies all neatly organized. I can’t pull fun projects out of my rear thin air. Trying to put them together stresses me out. But I can dance with her. And I can teach her piano. And it’s been (mostly) fun. At first, I was a bit frustrated by her inability to listen to ANY sort of direction before proclaiming she could do it. Yes, I know she’s four, but still. At least pretend to listen to me. But last weekend, something clicked for us, and in the last 4 days, she’s learned two songs! And since she’s had freakishly large hands since birth, I think she’s got a good future ahead of her.

I continue to be amazed at her memory, and that’s kind of an understatement. There are times when I swear the girl has not forgotten a word I’ve said to her, ever. Even (and sometimes, especially) when I don’t think she’s paying attention. For instance, we have started to read the Articles of Faith (some of our scriptures) every night after dinner. Though she often doesn’t seem to be paying attention, the next night when we come back to them, she has a good portion of the previous night’s memorized. After two days she could recite the first two, and we didn’t even think she was listening.

Also, one time she asked me where the gas from our cars came from. I explained the process once in layman’s terms as I knew it (from dinosaurs, to bones, to oil, to pumps, to factories, to trucks, to gas stations, to cars) and she repeated it nearly verbatim to anyone who would listen for the next week. On September 11th, she started asking about why the flags were flying, and I tried to give her a not-too-scary-but-truthful explanation. Tonight, without prompting, she retold the story again….flawlessly.

I’m sometimes afraid I’m not enough for her. The girl totally wears me out. Not physically, but mentally. My introverted mind needs breaks, and being the extrovert she is, hers never stops. She is constantly asking “what are we going to do next?” before we are half-way through a current task. She will plan out her entire day in the morning, and is constantly thinking 5 or 6 steps ahead. She also has an incredibly difficult time entertaining herself. Now that she no longer naps (and quiet time is difficult with the two kids sharing a room), I often feel mentally exhausted by mid-afternoon.

I do love her though, and she is an amazing kid. It is fun to watch her personality as it continues to grow and shape itself. Every day I’m just thankful that we are no longer in the “threes”. Here’s to the fours being a MUCH better year!

I used to have a running blog-a-logue in my head 24-hours a day. It’s not there anymore. In its place… well, it’s not quite emptiness. No, it’s more a running to-do list, mixed with constant 4-year-old chatter and argumentation, which is slightly drowned out by a toddler’s Mariah Carey-style screeches. Couple that with my slightly perfectionistic tendency to want to write overly moving and poignant posts EACH and EVERY time, and well… by the time I get the kids to bed, I just would rather sit down and let my brain ooze out my ears while watching So You Think You Can Dance. I know it’s in there somewhere though, and I’m determined to get it back. That’s my story, and now I’m done.

Sweet baby Nicolas turned 30 in August. Everybody say, “Awwww.” Okay, enough! Let’s cut to the chase… I. ROCKED. HIS. BIRTHDAY. PRESENT.

Earlier this summer (back when I thought it was going to be a low key summer), I decided that a 30th Birthday always calls for some sort of surprise. Many of my friends have been having surprise parties, but I thought that was a little too obvious. He’d be expecting it. And since he typically manages to ruin my surprises anyway, I didn’t want to risk it. I needed something new, something fresh, something bold. And then it came to me… a surprise getaway vacation!!!

First, I had to figure out how to get him out of work for my little present. I toyed with the idea of trying to call his boss, but that seemed like getting too much out of my control… and I don’t trust the co-workers not to slip. So I decided I would just tell him that we would be spending the week after the Triathlon in Seattle, seeing friends and family, and he needed to take the week off. He didn’t give me too much grief, though he thought it was weird since we had already spent one week there this summer.

Then I arranged for our friends to watch the kids. We were staying at their house anyway, so we wouldn’t have to uproot the kiddos. I had my mom book the plane tickets and accommodations so that the charge didn’t show up on our card (ahhh, yes, I’m smart, I tell you). I typed up kid-watching instructions, printed out itineraries and confirmation codes, and even forged his signature on the bottom of the kids’ medical release forms – all without detection.

The night after the Triathlon, I smuggled two carry-on bags outside the door of the guest room we were staying in (after borrowing them from our friends). I set my alarm for 3:00am, and got up in the middle of the night to pack our clothes. Then I tried to go back to sleep. You can probably guess how well that worked. The alarm went off again at 5:00am, and this conversation ensued:

Karli: “Honey… wake up! I have a birthday present for you.”

Nick: (unintelligible mumbling)

Karli: “Honey, you need to wake up. I have something to show you.”

Nick: slightly more coherent…“Why? What do you have to show me?”

Karli: “I’ve got a birthday present for you?”

Nick: “Do I really have to see it now? Can it wait?”

Karli: in a firm do-as-I-say mom voice “No. You need to get up now.”

At this point he clued in that he needed to get his act together, and he got up and got dressed. He was actually quite well-behaved from this point on, and didn’t even ask any more questions… just did as he was told. We threw the bags into the back of the car and started driving, and he still didn’t know where we were headed.

As we turned off toward the airport, he got a little more excited. I was able to keep the location secret up to the point where I had to print off the boarding passes, which I presented to him with a little “Ta-dah!” face.

We arrived Monday morning in Las Vegas, and stayed until Wednesday evening. We had some great food, spent a little time with some friends who live there, and did one of those Time Share sales pitches, so we could get tickets to the show we wanted to see.

We got to see Ka’, by Cirque du Soleil, which is hands down the best show we have ever seen. It was absolutely incredible, and completely worth the trip down, in and of itself. We stayed at the Luxor on the south end of the strip, and wore ourselves out by walking up and down the strip to the other end a couple of times. On Wednesday, before we left, we also went to The Price Is Right, Live, which is a stage show based on the real game show. Same games, audience participation, real prizes and gigantor name tags and everything. We had a blast, even though Vegas is a filthy place full of disgusting people who walk too slow. Let’s face it… we were kidless for 3 days… we could have gone to Death Valley and had a blast . A BIG thanks to Cheri and Darren for stepping up to the plate on that one.

So, Happy Birthday to Nick…. and here’s to trying to top THAT present in a year and a half… go ahead… I dare you!