for the first time since they knocked on my door, there is a pit of burning in my belly, the hot of nausea that comes and goes. there comes a quiver of delight in the memories marching through my skin, hand-in-hand with the dread of the reality. for the first time, now nine months after they knocked on my door, a sense of truth is beginning to form. because now here we are in december, a month full of memories - our last month as a full family, even as we waited on baby isla to arrive. it was the first in a long while that there was no coming or going, no mission to go do, the first time in our story that our schedule was predictable and holiday planning was possible (military families rarely are treated to this precious possibility) - there was a beautiful and much-longed-for rhythm to our day and he would come through the door at the same time as the sun went down and share in our evening ritual. i remember the sense of peace in knowing when he would arrive; peace all mixed up with anxiety about when-will-that-baby-come?. he was studying and prepping and working hard. i can see him coming in the laundry room door wearing that furry collared leather jacket and trudging his boots across the room, grinning with those dimpled cheeks as he spied the babies through the glass, usually already at the dinner table. kissing the tops of their heads as he pulled the patches off his flight suit and plopped into his chair with a sigh. after a full day at work he would bath and tuck the babies into bed and then head back to work for a few more hours of studying; he was so smart - he was so excited - he was living his dreams. and even though he was working so hard and even though we were both exhausted to the core, we forced ourselves to cram some logistics-intensive magic into that last december together. the memories of it all come so vividly into my minds eye as they are some of the last that make sense in reality - when he left for school in january the whirlwind of birthing a baby takes over and sense of time is lost; when march arrived and shock set in, the meaning of time and space ceased to exist and the rest of this 2014 has been a stream-of-consciousness blur I barely recognize as my own story. but that december is full of memories; the last chapter of our story. i can see my Reid Nannen up on a ladder, forcing a smile down at my enormous pregnant self and teasing me about a mishap report that would result from my decorating plan as he strung holiday lights in tree after tree. there he is giggling in the street in front of our house as he helped betsy attempt to both pay attention and pedal her bike simultaneously. and off we went to hiroshima to take in the spectacular lights display, trudging through the freezing night on extremely crowded streets with a giant stroller attempting to chase 3 kids toting hot chocolate in mitten-clad hands in 3 different directions...after spending an hour in japanese city traffic and pedestrian insanity attempting to determine where we were allowed to park. the squadron holiday ugly sweater party, sitting across from him as he giggled, im sure inappropriately in his charming way, to one of his most dear friends as he teased my toes under the table. we stayed late and chatted and i can feel the smile and contentment i wore that night, even now. the base tree lighting ceremony - again chasing three kids in opposite directions in a crowded grassy corner as the sun went down, betsy riding on his shoulders and pulling his hair and hot chocolate thats too hot and surely gets spilled and the beautiful chaos of our family...all together. we took our kids out to eat udon and as were leaving he and i both say with trepidation in our hearts that we might jinx it and invite a terrible hex upon our evening that it was the first time we went out for dinner as a whole family and all three kids sat and ate and we enjoyed it - fresh made japanese udon and tempura has that magical affect. christmas eve, i had to reschedule a maternity photo shoot due to weather for a very very due-any-minute-momma for that afternoon with plans to be home in time to whip up our christmas even tradition dinner...but i locked the keys in the car and was several hours late after using my best charades maneuvers to get random japanese people to tell a japanese lockmith where we were over the phone after finally communicating what had happened to our japanese insurance agent....and came home to homemade potato soup and hankie pankies and kids in jammies and a brave, sweet guy in a trashed kitchen who loved me enough to put on a halfway smile and hug me and make it all ok....and then we stayed up way too late to wrap and assemble a million gifts for three little pups and then up early on christmas morning just a few hours later to watch it all get unwrapped and dismembered as we skyped with family. as always, he was my relaxation champion and forced me to sit still and snuggle up and so we geeked out and spent those last days of that last very, very pregnant december watching a lord of the rings marathon. and so i learn to take more pictures and i remember there will never be a convenient or a more better time to make the memories and i realize yes it really will be funny someday and i embrace the chaos as our story unfolds in a new kind of december where i alone have to be enough for these babies and im grateful for the love and the friends and family here now to help me find my way. and what a treasure these memories become to walk through again. its a delicate dance full of overwhelming extremes to live in the now and embrace the then and dream up the someday.
Posted on: Tue, 02 Dec 2014 08:25:27 +0000
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