How do you say it?

Today as I was scrolling though facebook on my phone I saw a picture of a cute little blondie girl. Ry, looking over my shoulder, asked me who she was. How do you tell your 6 year old daughter who that little girl is, the one who won't be with her mom and dad and family for Christmas? Do you tell her the story of the mean man who walked in a school, very much like her own, and decided to shoot 20 children that were her same age? Are we supposed to ignore it, hoping that our children will still feel safe at school, the place where they spend their week, making it their second home? How do we describe the fact that this little blondie will never turn 7. She will never read another Junie B. Jones book before she goes to bed at night. She will never sing another song in the car with her family. How do you tell your baby that some mom and dad will never be able to tuck their little blond haired princess into bed at night? What are we supposed to say?

 I don't know the right answers to all these questions. I don't know how I am going to feel tomorrow as she jumps out of the car excited for a new week of school. The knot in my stomach tells me that it will be a long day. A day thinking about the families who don't have a 6 year old to be excited for the last few days of school before Christmas break. Families who don't get to see their girl sing carols at school and bring their teacher Christmas presents. How will we move on?

I told Ry that the little girl was in a horrible accident. That a mean man walked into her classroom and tried to hurt a lot of people and kids. I reassured her that she will be safe at her school, trying to hide the fact that I feel like I am lying to her. I know I trust her teacher and that she would do everything in her power to keep the students safe, I know that as the week goes on the days will get easier. I know this is nothing compared to how it would feel to be the mother of the cutie little blonde girl. Lastly and most importantly, I know the hurt in my heart and the knot in my stomach are for them, not me and my family.

Oh Eli

Eli,

You are 18 months old! One and a half! I cannot even believe it. It has gone by so fast. I still feel like you are my teeny tiny "always a few steps behind the crowd" baby. This isn't true anymore. You are finally catching up and I don't believe my own eyes sometimes!

You started to walk over a month ago. It was, yet again, another milestone you strived to reach for a few weeks. You never gave up until you started taking step after step, fall after fall, to only get up again and start the process continually throughout the rest of the week. Now you have been trying to keep up with your sisters and are actually doing a pretty good job. You love it when they run away from you and hide. You laugh and scream until you find them and then fall over in laughter when they jump out at you.

You love to play outside. You crawl out of my arms as soon as we walk out the door. You love to be on a tractor, screaming and crying in a huge fit when it is time to get off. You love to "drive". As soon as you see a steering wheel in front of you, your hands are immediately on it trying to turn the wheels.

You spend a lot of time closing doors to rooms in our house. Especially after you walk into one room with out us knowing. We sometimes can't find you anywhere, our house is not that big, and we usually find you behind the closed door getting into something you aren't supposed to have.

You are a dare devil. You love to climb and have to do things your own way even if it is the hardest way. Last week we went to visit Grandma and Grandpa Soptich. You found two stairs that instantly became your favorite new toy. Climbing down headfirst, we tried to show you how to go down backwards, the safer way. After screaming in fits because you didn't want to go backwards, we finally let you go your own way, headfirst. It was actually pretty successful for you for the first 4 days, but on Thursday you tumbled and broke your arm. It was pretty sad but you were so tough. Tomorrow you get your first cast. Welcome to Boyhood.

You are still my tough boy, you always have been.
You fight through things until they're over and do everything on your own time.
You are always smiling and happy.
You hold my heart in your hand.

Love you Bubba,
Mom

About Mom Jeans

Let me tell you about mom jeans. Mom jeans are loose around the thigh and tight at the ankle. They have a high waistline and small back pockets that sit almost as high. So let me ask, what is wrong with mom jeans?

Mom jeans are not flattering on any figure. They make your butt look wide and flat while they turn your legs into tree stumps and your feet into long, skinny boats. The waistband sits so high, your belly fat bulges over the top, also creating a shelf-like area for your sagging boobs. And you better watch out, because if you pick a shirt that's too long, it will cover the back pockets, leaving your backside seemingly pocketless which begins a whole new problem you then need to deal with because pants with no back pockets are the mother of all mom jeans. While this may all seem like a huge fashion
no-no (one in which we all try our best to avoid) the truth is, I have made the choice to wear my mom jeans with confidence and pride.

First and foremost, I chose to embrace my mom jeans the first time I put myself in second place. Although I am not quite sure when this happened. Maybe it was when I fell in love with Dustin. As I promised to try putting his needs before mine. Maybe it seemed easy because I knew we would over populate our house with gorgeous children, or because he cares about me so much that he would still love me even if I had a wide flat butt, stump legs and boat feet.

Maybe I put my mom jeans on when we decided it was time to start our family. Was it when I felt her move for the first time? Or when I heard her cry? Was it when she opened her eyes the first time she heard my voice? Maybe the next time I had my mom jeans on was when someone took her hospital hat off and I saw her dark hair and it matched mine. Was it when I had to be tough home alone with two kids all the time, even when the power was out? Or what about the time I got out my cute jeans to go away with my first love on a trip, I came back to my mom jeans waiting for me folded nicely on my bed, telling me how much I had missed out on while we were gone. Maybe another time I donned my mom jeans was the day Rylin asked me if baby brother in my tummy was sick like grandpa's baby calf who was born dead earlier that day. I strapped on my mom jeans and cinched the belt as tight as I could when I told her that our baby was just fine. I pulled that belt even tighter around my gut as I felt like I was lying to her even though I had no idea what was going to happen four weeks later. Maybe I saved my best mom jeans for May 5th. They were the acid wash no-back-pockets kind. With a bedazzled belt to tighten around my muffin top and tuck my Hanes brand t-shirt into with the sleeves rolled up. Yes, those were the ones I saved for May 5th. I needed those for the hard days. The days I needed my bedazzled belt to hold my insides together. The days when the cheesy Hanes t-shirt held my heart in my chest because I felt like it was left out in an incubator to be shattered at any moment. Or maybe it was the day when the neonatologist told me bluntly that our baby was in the process of dying when he was born. Maybe it was when I didn't even cry when he told me this because I knew how true it was.

You know, we all have a time for our best mom jeans. Maybe you pull them out when you do all you can to get your dream job in another city, only to find out you didn't get it. Maybe it is when you bring your baby to get her first shots when she screams as she stares into your eyes because now she knows what it feels like to be hurt. Maybe it is when you go on your first date together since the birth of a wee babe and you leave your baby at home in safe hands. Only to get to the restaurant, hear another baby crying or playing and want to run home to your own baby. Maybe it is when you never get to bring your baby home from the hospital because he only lived a few minutes, and all you are left with are a few pictures and maybe a blanket from the hospital. Maybe it is when you have to pretend like you aren't afraid of the dark because it's a secret you don't want the kids to know about you. Maybe it is when you have to leave your kids at home while you go to work. Or is it when you take her to kindergarten the first time, maybe when she walks away like she is so tough but you know how fragile she really is? Or when you see her eyes fill up with tears because she's scared but doesn't want to cry about it, she's too tough to cry now. Maybe it is when you get a huge needle shoved in your spine in preparation to have a baby, or maybe it is having a baby with no needle at all. Maybe it is when you vocalize what you believe is right for your children, only to be shot down by another person's opinion. Maybe it is when you sit by your child in a hospital bed, wondering how sick he will really get and what will happen, then crying instead of sleeping. Maybe it is telling your friends what you believe, hoping that someday they will believe it too. Maybe it is when she climbs into your bed with her purple pillow and snuggles on down without you even noticing. Or maybe when you did notice but decide you don't mind the warm little body taking up the whole bed because you know these days don't last forever.

I found my mom jeans a long time ago. I still find new pairs every once in a while. I am sure I have some hand me downs from people who are important to me. My favorites are the levi's from my mom. I believe we all need to use our mom jeans to our advantage. Swap our favorite kinds and share our bedazzled belts. Most importantly, don't forget about the acid washed pair with no back pockets. They will always be in the back of your closet for the really rough days. Don't be ashamed to pull those out when you need them.

A Story of Two Girlies and A Boy

For the first week of our boy's life, I wasn't sure when the right time would be for Ry and Kennel to meet their brother. I didn't want them to freak out with all the beeping, tubes and wires. To top it off, they would each have to wear a mask, gown, and gloves. I knew Rylin was old enough to understand, but I wasn't sure about Kendall. Honestly, at first, I wasn't sure how to show him to them. What would I say if he got so sick and didn't make it? Would it be easier for them to see him after he was better? Or take the risk when he was still sick? When everything started to change and we knew for sure our time with Eli on earth with us wasn't ending anytime soon, we decided to take the girls to meet their baby brother.

Eli was ten days old when he met his sisters.

All four of us made a trip to the hospital to see him one last time before we drove home for a few days. Dustin was with Eli while the girls and I were getting some lunch. After we had full tummies, I decided to take the plunge. I got them all gowned up and with only a little fight from Kennel, we made our way to Eli's cubicle. Rylin wasn't even nervous. She walked right up to the incubator and wanted to touch Eli. So we opened the door and she pet his little head and arm. Kendall even tried once, before trying to tear off her mask :) Kendall loved to look at him. She would stare at him with the cutest little smirk. Almost like she was thinking about all the mischief they would get into together. We snapped our first family photo and I took the girls back out to the waiting room. After a while, Rylin was asking to go back in. I gowned her up and one of the nurses walked her back to Dustin, who was then holding Eli. She sat back there for almost an hour with her daddy and brother, just watching and touching Eli's head.

The girlies only visited one more time before Eli came home. It was on June 10th. I was getting all ready to drive them to Boise so they could make their way to Utah to stay with my family for the rest of the month. My heart was breaking. I was sending two of my babies 20 hours away from us, so I could help their brother grow big and eventually come home. I was staying with Uncle Lee and Aunt Carrie for a few days, they only lived 40 minutes away from the hospital. Aunt Carrie (life-saver!!)  was helping me with the girls while Dustin was back home at work. I was able to spend a few days at the NICU by myself. The day before I was set to drive the girls to Boise, I decided they needed to see their brother once more before they left. I wrote a little letter to Eli that day:

"Today I was brave and brought Rylin and Kendall to see you. Kendall sat in a chair in the corner of your cubicle eating candy, while Rylin held you with me. They are so excited to be your big sisters, they tell everyone about you. Before we put you back in your incubator, Ry snuck a little smooch on the side of your head. It is a BIG secret that we had to keep from the nurses."

Luckily, Nicole (another one of our favorite nurses) looked away while Ry gave Eli a smooch. At first I told Ry she couldn't give him a kiss (GERMS!) and her eyes filled up with tears. So I told her to sneak it.  When I think about these few times in the hospital with the girlies and the boy, I realize we set the foundation for their relationship. They have been in love with their brother since before he was born, the love grew when they met him, and again when they visited him. I'm sure everyone knows how much I am obsessed with Eli, but the funny thing is, many days I realize the girls are just as much enamored with him (if not more) than Dustin and I.

Holding Him

On the Thursday when Eli was one week old, I went to rounds with the doctors and nurses. A new Neonatologist was in there with us. Which also brought a new pair of eyes. After doing the usual updates on the status of Eli,  he looked at me and asked if I had held my baby yet. Honestly, I hadn't even thought about it. It seemed so far out of reach because he was so sick, the thought just never really crossed my mind. He was a little shocked when I told him that no, I had not held my baby yet. He looked at the nurses and made a goal for me to hold Eli before we left him again on Sunday. I was a little nervous instantly. I told them all that I didn't need to hold Eli, I didn't want to do anything to make him uncomfortable. The team assured me it would do nothing but good for the baby. So I tried to not get too excited, in case plans changed. So, Friday came. Eli was 8 days old when I held him. It was a night I will never forget. Dustin and I were staying in a room on the eighth floor of the hospital. We were told in preparation for holding him, we had to commit to at least two hours in one spot next to the incubator in a pleather recliner. We got to his bed side around 9:30pm. The best way to hold a new baby, especially one weighing 2 pounds, is called skin on skin, or kangaroo care. Basically the baby wears nothing but a diaper and lays on the bare chest of mom or dad. I (of course because I am mom:)) got first dibs. Eli's night girlfriend, Lacey, was on shift that night and took care of everything. I snuggled into the pleather recliner. Lacey opened the incubator and started to arrange his tubes. The nurses there are so amazing with these little teeny babies. It was so comforting to see her pick him up. She was so comfortable holding him, treating him like he was a full term newborn, with a little more caution for his tubes and breakable body. Before I knew it, he was on my chest. Instantly his respiratory rate calmed and he relaxed. Lacey taped his breathing tube, feeding tube, and IV to my shoulder, and also to the chair in one or two more places, just to make sure they didn't get pulled out. She laid a few warm blankets on him and me and left us. Dustin and I could not stop smiling. I realized that all the fear I had began to melt away. He was our baby. I was sure I would bawl the first time I held him, but I was grinning ear to ear.  I could barely feel his weight on my torso. His head was about the size of a baseball and it fit just below my collarbone. His scrawny little body down to his toes reached a few inches above my belly button. I could feel him breathing. I could see his furry back and face. He looked up at me when I talked.

my eyes are crazy, but it is the only one with him
looking up at me the first time I held him :)

He must have liked his time being held, because the next night I walked in to see a used kit from the respiratory therapists. At first my heart jumped because I thought something was wrong. Then I realized I could see more of his face because he was breathing with just a CPAP, he was no longer intubated! Two days later, the girls got to meet him for the first time. Dustin also held him. When he did, Eli was swaddled. Like a big boy. Our baby, who was just over a week old and gestationally 31 weeks was doing things that seemed so normal for a full term baby. Things that I would have never imagined. This was just the beginning. 

Tell Me

Tell me they will need me for the rest of their lives. Tell me they will need me to cover them up at night and give them hugs and kisses. Tell me they will always need to have me close. Tell me they will need me to get them band aids and wash their hair. Tell me they will need me to hold them after their bath in a warm towel. Tell me they will need me to brush their hair and read them books. Tell me they will always need me to hold their hand. Tell me they will always want to snuggle me in the morning and lay by me at night. Tell me they will stop growing so fast. Tell me that no matter how old or big or beautiful or handsome they are, they will always need me. Tell me these things so I can know they are true, and remind me for the rest of my life so I can remember.

Dear Friends and Family

How is it possible to cram one year's worth of accomplishments into a slideshow for Eli? 

How is it possible to show he needed help breathing for 2 weeks, an incubator for 7 weeks, and a feeding tube for 8 weeks? How can I show you how excited we were when he came home? How could we show you that the Iron-Hide toy that once was almost as tall as him now is just the same size as his head? How can I express our gratitude for his first home at UW? How could you see how much we cherish the doctors who brought him here and the doctors,nurses, nurse practitioners, and respiratory therapists who kept him here? How can I prove he grew from being a featherweight champ at 2 pounds 3 ounces to being our heavyweight champ at 15 pounds? How can you see that he out grew his pants and sleepers and shirts and onsies by growing 12 inches in one year? Don't you want to hear his kitten cry one more time? How can you see him do all his tricks? How Can you see the love his sisters have for him? How can I show you how proud we are of him? I wish I could show you our memories that we have stored inside our hearts and heads. I wish I could make a video of all the miracles we have witnessed. I wish I could show you the people that Eli has brought into our lives. I wish I could show you how much we love our Heavenly Father and His Son. I wish I could tell you who Eli's angel guardians were in the NICU. I may not be able to show or tell you all these things, but I hope after you watch his First Year in pictures and videos, you might be able witness a few. 

I hope you like it,
love The Soptich's