Trouble with Three – Bad Memory

I’m sure my ‘troubles’ with three is just starting but one of the things that I’m noticing is that I’m forgetting baby hood.

I don’t remember different things about the baby stage of the two older kids.  We had a family gathering the other day and right now there are 3 babies in our extended family – a first baby for my one sister-in-law and a second for my other sister-in-law.  The sister-in-law with her first baby asked me something about when the kids reached certain milestones as babies and I really don’t remember.

I don’t remember how old they were when they rolled over or sat up or started babbling or smiling.  I do remember the big milestones like walking and talking but the smaller ones I don’t.  I think it’s because the kids are so close together that the baby stages are just kind of a blur.  Everything changes so quickly in the first year of their lives that it really is a blur.  (Sleep deprivation probably doesn’t help!)

I feel like such a bad mom for not remembering these things!  I’m not even sure I’ll be able to complete their baby books!  (I do have them bought but I just haven’t opened them to do anything with them!)

I got this in an email and wanted to share it:

“Mother

The young mother set her foot on the path of life.  “Is this the long way?” she asked.  And the guide said: “Yes, and the way is hard.  And you will be old before you reach the end of it.  But the end will be better than the beginning.”

But the young mother was happy, and she would not believe that anything could be better than these years.  So she played with her children, and gathered flowers for them along the way, and bathed them in the clear streams; and the sun shone on them, and the young mother cried, “Nothing will ever be lovelier than this.”

Then the night came, and the storm, and the path was dark, and the children shook with fear and cold, and the mother drew them close and covered them with her mantle, and the children said, “Mother, we are not afraid, for you are near, and no harm can come.”

And the morning came, and there was a hill ahead, and the children climbed and grew weary, and the mother was weary.  But at all times she said to the children, “A little patience and we are there.”  So the children climbed, and when they reached the top they said, “Mother, we would not have done it without you.”

And the mother, when she lay down at night looked up at the stars and said, “This is a better day than the last, for my children have learned fortitude in the face of hardness.  Yesterday I gave them courage, today I’ve given them strength.”

And the next day came strange clouds which darkened the earth, clouds of war, hate and evil, and the children groped and stumbled, and the mother said: “Look up.  Lift your eyes to the light.”  And the children looked and saw above the clouds an everlasting glory, and it guided them beyond the darkness.  And that night the mother said, “This is the best day of all, for I have shown my children God.”

And the days went on, and the weeks and months and the years, and the mother grew old and she was little and bent.  But her children were tall and strong, and walked with courage.  And when the way was rough, they lifted her, for she was as light as a feather.  And at last they came to a hill, and beyond they could see a shining road and golden gates flung wide.  And mother said, “I have reached the end of my journey, and now I know the end is better than the beginning for my children can walk alone, and their children after them.”

And the children said, “You will always walk with us, mother, even when you have gone through the gates.”  And they stood and watched her as she went on alone, and the gates closed after her.  And they said:  “We can not see her but she is with us still.  A mother like ours is more than a memory.  She is a living presence.”

Your mother is always with you…she’s the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street; she’s the smell of bleach in your freshly laundered socks; she’s the cool hand on your brow when you’re not well.  Your mother lives inside your laughter, and she’s crystallized in every tear drop, she’s the place you came from, your first home; and she’s the map you follow with every step you take.  She’s your first love and your first heartbreak, and nothing on earth can separate you.

Not time, not space…not even death!”

Do you ever look at your children and think “Wow, I can’t believe that I gave birth to this person!…I can’t believe that God has entrusted my with these three beautiful little people!”

I am in awe almost every moment of every single day! God has blessed me so much!

I was chatting with another Mom about how much we love our children. She commented that she felt like she loved her child more than any other mother in the world could love their children. She knew it wasn’t true – it’s just that for a first time Mom the intense love we have for our children can be quite surprising. I mean everyone talks about it but until you really feel it for yourself – you can’t understand.

Some Mom’s of only one child find it hard to fathom loving their subsequent children with the same intensity as their first – they just love their first child so much. But once the next child is born the love just grows and you really do love all your children with the same intensity as the first one.

The love of Motherhood is such an amazing awesome gift! Thank you God!

People ask me all the time how things are with three children.  My most common response is that the transition is a lot easier with the third one.  When I said that to one mother of two she looked at me like she thought I was insane!

When I say the transition is easier I don’t mean that there’s less work or that life is easier because as with anything it definately has it’s challenges and three is more work.

I’m not really sure what’s easier about the transition, I think a combination of things.  First of all, I’ve realized that sometimes one (maybe two) children are just going to have to cry if I’m busy dealing with one of the other ones.  With my first one I had a really hard time just letting him cry – I always had to try and sooth and comfort him.  I’m not saying that it doesn’t bother me when one of the kids is crying and I’m busy with one of the other ones and can’t get to the one who is crying right away – it does but I know I am only one person and I am definately not superwoman!  Like tonight for example – I needed to get supper started – the two older kids were hungry, it was already after six and the youngest was wanting to be held – every time I put her down she started crying and screaming.  Not only is it dangerous to cook while holding her but I don’t have enough arms to do it.  So the youngest just had to cry until I could pick her up again.

The other reason it’s an easier transition is that the oldest is a year and a half older and a little more independent and not demanding as much of my attention.  The transition has also been easier on the older two – I don’t think the oldest remembers what life was like as an only child and the second one has always had a sibling so having another one is really not that big of a deal.

So yes it is more work but it’s easier to deal with – if that makes any sense at all.

I received this inspirational email:

On July 22nd I was in route to Washington, DC for a business trip.  It was all so very ordinary, until we landed in Denver for a plane change. As I collected my belongings from the overhead bin, an announcement was made for Mr. Lloyd Glenn to see the United Customer Service Representative immediately.

I thought nothing of it until I reached the door to leave the plane and I heard a gentleman asking every male if he were Mr. Glenn. At this point I knew something was wrong and my heart sunk.

When I got off the plane a solemn-faced young man came toward me and said, “Mr.Glenn, there is an emergency at your home. I do not know what the emergency is, or who is involved, but I will take you to the phone so you can call the hospital.”

My heart was now pounding, but the will to be calm took over.  Woodenly, I followed this stranger to the distant telephone where I called the number he gave me for the Mission Hospital.  My call was put through to the trauma center where I learned that my three-year-old son had been trapped underneath the automatic garage door for several minutes, and that when my wife had found him he was dead. CPR had been performed by a neighbor, who is a doctor, and the paramedics had continued the treatment as Brian was transported to the hospital.

By the time of my call, Brian was revived and they believed he would live, but they did not know how much damage had been done to his brain, nor to his heart. They explained that the door had completely closed on his little sternum right over his heart. He had been severely crushed.  After speaking with the medical staff, my wife sounded worried but not hysterical, and I took comfort in her calmness.

The return flight seemed to last forever, but finally I arrived at the hospital six hours after the garage door had come down. When I walked into the intensive care unit, nothing could have prepared me to see my little son laying so still on a great big bed with tubes and monitors everywhere.  He was on a respirator. I glanced at my wife who stood and tried to give me a reassuring smile. It all seemed like a terrible dream. I was filled-in with the details and given a guarded prognosis. Brian was going to live, and the preliminary tests indicated that his heart was OK, two miracles in and of themselves. But only time would tell if his brain received any damage.

Throughout the seemingly endless hours, my wife was calm. She felt that Brian would eventually be all right. I hung on to her words and faith like a lifeline. All that night and the next day Brian remained unconscious. It seemed like forever since I had left for my business trip the day before.

Finally at two o’clock that afternoon, our son regained consciousness and sat up uttering the most beautiful words I have ever heard spoken. He said, “Daddy hold me” and he reached for me with his little arms.

By the next day he was pronounced as having no neurological or physical deficits, and the story of his miraculous survival spread throughout the hospital. You cannot imagine, we took Brian home, we felt a unique reverence for the life and love of our Heavenly Father that comes to those who brush death so closely.

In the days that followed there was a special spirit about our home. Our two older children were much closer to their little brother. My wife and I were much closer to each other, and all of us were very close as a whole family life took on a less stressful pace. Perspective seemed to be more focused, and balance much easier to gain and maintain. We felt deeply blessed. Our gratitude was truly profound.

The story is not over!

Almost a month later to the day of the accident, Brian awoke from his afternoon nap and said, “Sit down Mommy. I have something to tell you.” At this time in his life, Brian usually spoke in small phrases, so to say a large sentence surprised my wife. She sat down with him on his bed, and he began his sacred and remarkable story.  “Do you remember when I got stuck under the garage door? Well, it was so

heavy and it hurt really bad. I called to you, but you couldn’t hear me…I started to cry, but then it hurt too bad. And then the ‘birdies’ came.”

“The birdies?” my wife asked puzzled.

“Yes,” he replied. “The birdies made a whooshing sound and flew into the garage. They took care of me.”

“They did?”

“Yes,” he said. “One of the birdies came and got you. She came to tell you “I got stuck under the door.” A sweet reverent feeling filled the room. The spirit was so strong and yet lighter than air. My wife realized that a three-year-old had no concept of death and spirits, so he was referring to the beings who came to him from beyond as “birdies” because they were up in the air like birds that fly.. “What did the birdies look like?” she asked.

Brian answered, “They were so beautiful. They were dressed in white, all white. Some of them had green and white. But some of them had on just white.”

“Did they say anything?”

“Yes,” he answered.  “They told me the baby would be all right.”

“The baby?” my wife asked confused.

Brian answered. “The baby laying on the garage floor.” He went on, “You came out and opened the garage door and ran to the baby. You told the baby to stay and not leave.”

My wife nearly collapsed upon hearing this, for she had indeed gone and knelt beside Brian’s body and seeing his crushed chest whispered, “Don’t leave us Brian, please stay if you can.” As she listened to Brian telling her the words she had spoken, she realized that the spirit had left his body and was looking down from above on this little lifeless form.  “Then what happened?” she asked.

“We went on a trip,” he said, “far, far away.” He grew agitated trying to say the things he didn’t seem to have the words for. My wife tried to calm and comfort him, and let him know it would be okay. He struggled with wanting to tell something that obviously was very important to him, but finding the words was difficult.

“We flew so fast up in the air. They’re so pretty Mommy,” he added.  “And there are lots and lots of birdies.” My wife was stunned.  Into her mind the sweet comforting spirit enveloped her more soundly, but with an urgency she had never before known. Brian went on to tell her that the “birdies” had told him that he had to come back and tell everyone about the “birdies.” He said they brought him back to the house and that a big fire-truck, and an ambulance were there. A man was bringing the baby out on a white bed and he tried to tell the man that the baby would be okay.

The story went on for an hour.

He taught us that “birdies” were always with us, but we don’t see them because we look with our eyes and we don’t hear them because we listen with our ears. But they are always there, you can only see them in here (he put his hand over his heart). They whisper the things to help us to do what is right because they love us so much. Brian continued, stating, “I have a plan, Mommy. You have a plan.. Daddy has a plan. Everyone has a plan. We must all live our plan and keep our promises. The birdies help us to do that ’cause they love us so much.”

In the weeks that followed, he often came to us and told all, or part of it, again and again. Always the story remained the same. The details were never changed or out of order. A few times he added further bits of information and clarified the message he had already delivered. It never ceased to amaze us how he could tell such detail and speak beyond his ability when he talked about his birdies.

Everywhere he went, he told strangers about the “birdies.” Surprisingly, no one ever looked at him strangely when he did this. Rather, they always got a softened look on their face and smiled. Needless to say, we have not been the same ever since that day, and I pray we never will be.