Another Reason to Celebrate Mother's Day!

I have another special reason to celebrate Mother's Day this year! A brand new baby! Yep! I was blessed with another baby boy on April 15th. He measured 7lbs 14oz. and 20 inches long. He's the smallest of my babies, so itty-bitty tiny like a little baby doll! My oldest son was born 9lbs 5oz. which makes quite a difference in size especially when he couldn't even fit in some of the newborn clothes given to me for his baby shower! Lucky for me, I kept all those unused outfits, so now his baby brother has the perfect sized clothing.

My children are thrilled to have a new sibling. My 4 year-old daughter has become like a second mommy to him. She helps change his diapers and gets clothes for him to wear. She's a wonderful helper. My older boys are just as helpful. They hold him for me while I try to get some work done around the house (which hasn't been much lately!). I took some time off of house-work to recover from my c-section.

I also intended to take some time off of writing. Since this is my 4th baby, I was aware of how exhausting it is to care for a newborn. To my complete surprise, my son has been very kind to me. He's a great sleeper! So much so that I couldn't sleep much at all those first few nights since I was constantly waking to check on him. And when he's awake, he's content to sit and look around, taking in his surroundings and listening to the constant noise of his brothers and sister playing in the same room.

I haven't gone back to my daily writing schedule yet, but I have worked a little here and there. Originally, I thought about giving myself a month or two away from writing, but even my husband laughed at that notion! I was talking about my stories with the nurses in the hospital. There was no way I could take a vacation from writing. The day after I came home from the hospital, I'd written about 2 or 3 pages of a brief outline for a story idea that I came up with from a dream. So, yes, even if I'm not working on my daily word count or edits as of yet, I'm still working on my stories. Even when I'm feeding the baby around 1am, I'm working through the plot of my current WIP. Just another way to prove that writers never take vacations!

Following My Mother's Advice

I know I'm a day late for talking about Mother's Day. This weekend has been full of spring cleaning, baseball games and edits so I didn't take much time for anything else other than spending time with my children. But, I didn't want to let the moment slip by when I have an opportunity to give gratitude to my mother. As some of you might know, my mother passed away when I was 11. In the grand scheme of things that's a very short time to come to know the most important woman in your life. Just as I was really starting to get to know her as a person she was diagnosed with leukemia and four short months later was gone. But her love and influence still continue nearly 25 years later. I cherish all of my warm memories and stories from family and friends.

My mom and her dog, Reva.

And I credit my mother for my writing. She's the one who suggested I write stories when I was very young, when I was maybe 8 or 9. Ever since I was little, I've had the most vivid dreams. In the mornings, I would tell my mom about my epic movie-like dreams. One day while I was sitting on her bed watching her brush her hair to get ready for the day, I finished telling her about a recurring dream I had since I was in kindergarten about zombies. Yep, zombies. No happy fairy tales or princesses in my dreams. It's no wonder I write paranormal stories! :) After I was done, she told me I should get a notebook and write about the dream. Maybe I might be able to write a story about it.

Up until that point in my life, the thought of recording my dreams had never occurred to me. Thinking about writing stories about them never did either. But, I followed her advice. I wrote down my dreams and I've been making stories out of them ever since.

Thanks mom! ❤

All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my Angel Mother.

~ Abraham Lincoln

Mother is a Beautiful Word

I never really thought about a favorite word until I had children. Mama was the first word each of my children spoke (much to the dismay of my husband who diligently practiced saying 'Dada' to them each day). Their sweet voices calling 'mama' is a sound that will remain forever in my heart.

Even as they grow, and 'Mama' has changed to 'Mommy' and then to 'Mom', each variation holds it's own beauty. Mother is a beautiful word. It holds such power and meaning. My children are my life. They are each a part of me. My body held them, protected them, nourished them. They were born carrying a bit of my heart and soul. After I am gone from this world, my heart will continue to beat in each of theirs.

Never in my life (until 7 years ago!) did I ever imagine I might be a mother. Such a thing was beyond belief. First of all, I feared pain. How could I ever bear the brutality of childbirth? Oh, I've heard the stories. My grandmother glories in describing her three days of gruesome labor during my own mother's birth. Of course, now they have drugs to alleviate the pain, but even then I knew I would not follow that path.

The birth of my firstborn was different than I had ever imagined. It was beautiful. It was 20 hours of waiting for his arrival, focusing on my precious joy instead of the pain, feeling the ghostly presence of my mother at my side holding my hand, the doctor's arrival and stunned surprise to learn that I had refused any drugs. I listened to my baby's heartbeat on the monitors with all the wires taped across my swollen belly. Even as they hurried me into surgery, to bring my son into the world via c-section because of complications, I marveled at the wonder of it all. And when the doctor lifted my 9 lb 5oz child from my womb, I saw the most beautiful baby in the world. I cried at his beauty. At the miracle that my body had created such a perfect creature.

Now, 7 years and 2 more children later, I still recall each of their births with such clarity that I hope never to forget. I have 3 favorite days of the year, 3 days that I celebrate as the most wondrous days in my world. The birthdays of each of my children.

On my own birthday, I think of my mother. Was my birthday one of her favorite days? Did she remember the first time she held me after many hours of labor to bring me into the world? Did she remember with crystal clarity the moment the doctor placed me in her arms and she first looked upon me? Did she cry as I did at the first sight of her baby?

Mom and me

As I've become a mother, I feel closer to my own, even though she's no longer with me. I understand her more now than I ever could before. And as I love the sound of my children calling me 'Mommy' I also love the sound of 'Mom' falling from my lips as I call to her.

And as the word 'mother' holds such meaning to me now, more than ever before, I also realize I have two other favorite words that rival that. Two more words that until a few years ago, I thought never to hold any meaning to me.

Son and Daughter.