Story Time

Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-changes!

I was getting complacent.  Mike was nearing the end of his Masters program and we have two adorable, sweet children. Loved my job, the hospital, our friends, and our ward. I was starting to get used to the traffic and Maryland culture (an area that combines Northern hospitality with Southern efficiency, according to someone at church). Those are the times that some sort of life-altering change creeps up on you and startles the bejeebers out of you, forcing you to rely more on family and the Lord and less on yourself. It's not a bad thing, but it's a scary thing.

So our change looming on the horizon is that the Army is moving us. You might remember that they threatened to do it last year but then changed their minds at the last minute. Well, they changed their minds again, only instead of sending us to Colorado, they're moving us to North Carolina for two years.  And I don't get to be a developmentalist. I don't even get to be a pediatrician. I get to be a general practitioner for around 3,000 soldiers. It's a move and an assignment that I'm trying to be positive about, but deep down I'm looking forward to it like unanesthetized dental surgery.

Mike and I do something to help Sophia, who is a pretty anxious and timid child. When there's something/someone that intimidates her or that she wants to avoid, we say "hi" to it/him/her until she feels comfortable.  Hi, heater! Hi, blender! Hi, nursery leader! Hi, printer! People must think we're pretty strange.

In that vein, here's the mantra I've been telling myself lately:
Hi, moving with a toddler and an infant!
Hi, moving right after I get back from two weeks of training in Texas!
Hi, Fort Bragg!
Hi, regular hooah Army!
Hi, being a Brigade Surgeon!
Hi, having adult patients for the first time since 2006!
Hi, treating STD's, back pain, and ingrown toenails!

I'm sure it will end up being one of those blessing-in-disguise sort of experiences. I'm sure our family will end up loving North Carolina. I'm sure going to miss complacency, though.

Easter 2014

I love rediscovering holidays through the eyes of my children. This was Sophia's first real Easter where she understood a little bit of the activities.

She loved--and I mean loved her Easter dress.  I'm not sure if this is good or bad, but she understands when she looks cute. After we put on the dress, she ran over to the mirror and twirled back and forth looking at herself. I hope it's just that we're raising a daughter with a healthy self esteem and not a little narcissist. 

Our good friends, the Harmans, came over with their son who's Sophia's age to look for eggs.

She really couldn't have cared less about what was in the eggs, she just enjoyed finding them and putting them in the basket. 

And she loved going around outside with her daddy.

Ryan slept through the whole thing.

Daddy Is Magic!

Teething...

...is no fun.

She's usually much, MUCH happier than this.

On Being Her Mommy

Sophia is 8½ months old.

See this face! Is it not endearing???

How can this face, which makes me want to sing with sweetness at 4 in the afternoon, make me want to scream with frustration at 11 at night when she won’t go to sleep?

How can this little girl be one of the sources of my greatest joy and simultaneously of my greatest pain?

I remember the first day I went back to work after having Sophia and crying all the way to the clinic. I guess in my mind I thought (hoped?) that I would get used to the feeling. I naively supposed that it would get easier to leave her behind in the hands of her incredibly loving and capable father while I saved the world one autism diagnosis at a time.  

But, no, it gets harder. Unbearably,  excruciatingly harder. Sometimes when I walk past her crib on my way out the door, I pause and look at her sweet, sleeping face; and my heart aches so much at the thought of leaving, that for a few seconds I can’t breathe. And those are the good days. If she wakes up before I leave, I know I’m going to need to grab tissue on route to the car.

Then work ends. I drive home to my husband and daughter. I rush inside to kiss Mike, and Sophia reaches out for me like I’ve never left. Being with my family, my world rights itself again. I try to make the time I spend with them quality, since I can’t give quantity.  We play games and read stories. I rock her to sleep and hold her until she wakes up. I sing to her and teach her.

Last month, we worked on picking up pieces of cereal and putting them in her mouth. She got to where she could pick up the cereal, but she couldn’t quite get it to her mouth. Then, one evening, she did it! I was so proud and I excitedly pointed out to Mike what a wonderful, amazing, genius thing our daughter had learned. Mike had a funny look on his face and it occurred to me—that wasn’t the first time she’d fed herself.  Mike admitted that, in fact, she had done it just that morning.

For some reason, it broke my heart. I’m still not sure why I took it as hard as I did. It wasn’t like putting a piece of cereal in her mouth was a major milestone—not the way “first word” and “first step” are. But it was something that we had worked on together; and when she finally got it, I wasn’t there to celebrate her triumph, however small.

After a few minutes, I composed myself and put it all into perspective. If I didn’t leave in the morning, I would never get to see that she is beyond excited to see me when I get home. If I didn’t have to be at work during the day, I wouldn’t appreciate as much the time we get together evenings and weekends. Being a doctor has made me a better mother. And being a mother has made me a better doctor.

We’re blessed that Mike can stay home with her and she doesn’t have to go to daycare. At least one of us gets to be with her for all her “firsts.” And work is temporary. Only 4½ more years, and I’m done with Army life. Also a blessing.

Five Months Old

Guess what! I turned 5 months old last week. I’m growing up so much! I talk to my parents all the time, only they can’t understand what I’m saying.

Everyone at Church stops my mom in the hall and tells her how cute I am. I don’t want to brag, but I have to agree. It always makes me smile when people tell me that I look pretty in my dress.

Halloween was last week and so my mommy and daddy bought me a costume and dressed me up. I got to be Tinkerbell! Daddy took me trick-or-treating and a nice man put candy into a bag for me. When we got home, my parents ate my candy. I didn’t even get a taste. No fair!

My mommy and daddy just decorated my nursery. I wanted to get lots of new toys to go in it, but my mom said that would be frivolous at my age. I don’t know what “frivolous” is, but I’m pretty sure it means “no toys.” 

My room sure looks cute and I love the big flowers and butterflies on my wall. I would have really liked some new toys instead, though. Plus, there sure seems to be a lot of pink in my life.

I’m a very happy baby. I love being with my mom and dad. I want to be held by them all the time. As long as I’m with them, I’m smiling.

I also love to read stories. I can already turn the pages back and forth by myself. I miss my mom when she’s at work, but when she gets home, she finds a book, I sit on her lap and we read until it’s time for dinner.

I finally learned to tolerate tummy time because my parents insisted that I do it. It's still not my favorite. I play with toys for a little bit then start sucking on my fingers. Sucking on my fingers means a lot of things and my parents have to guess which one it is. Sometimes it means "I'm bored." Sometimes it means "I'm hungry." In this case, it means, "I'm sick and tired of tummy time." 

Well, that’s all for today. My family is moving to Colorado in a few months because the Army told us to. This makes me happy because it will be easier to visit all of my family!