Nolan, Man of Many Nicknames

Nolan Maxwell

Nolan

No-No



Nano

Nanners

Nannerator

Noles

Nolie

Rolie Polie Nolie

 NoMax
Baby

Buddy

Love Bug

Little One

Tiny One

One Year Old

Ei, Pie in the Sky

Ethan

Ei

Ei Pie in the Sky

Gentle Giant

Lover

The Darling of His Mama's Heart

Firm Believer

Concrete Thinker

Make-it-Right-er

Tantrum Thrower
Pouter
Precious, Sincere Apologizer

Snuggler

Daydreamer

Individual

Mama's Baby Ei

A Brother's Best Friend

5 year old

Jackson

Jackson

question asker

cello player

Lego builder

fact rememberer
rule follower
calculator


loving big brother x 3
thinker
bearer of beautiful blue eyes


people pleaser
line leader
negotiator


smarty pants
the love of his mama's heart
six year old

Dear Aaron

Dear Aaron,

You turned 2 on Saturday. I can't wrap my mind around it. It seems like you went to bed a baby and woke up a little boy.

Sweet Aaron, I remember so clearly looking at your tiny squash-colored body and worrying that you were jaundiced. I remember sitting in the doctor's office as they pricked your heel and tried not to worry me. I remember getting the phone call that afternoon to go immediately to the hospital. I remember crying as they took you from me and pricked you again and put an IV in your foot. I remember sitting by your side counting the minutes until I could pick you up for those precious few moments every two hours--for days. And, Aaron, I remember exactly how it felt to hold you for the first time after all this, without cords tethering you to medical equipment. It was just you and me again. It felt beautiful and terrifying all at the same time.

I don't think I put you down for a month after all that. I held you while I ate my lunch. I held you when you napped. I held you even at night. I rubbed your tiny feet every day so that you wouldn't develop a fear of being touched on the foot after all the pricks. I wanted you to feel how much I loved you.

And you cried, little Aaron. You cried and cried and cried. You cried for hours every day no matter what I did. I was so frustrated. And I was disappointed because I wanted so much for things to be perfect. I wanted to be the perfect mom this time around, and I just couldn't pull it off. On a whim, I ordered a sling. I put you in and--insert chorus of angels--you stopped crying. You fell asleep on my chest all snuggled in your sling. I could smell your powdery goodness and kiss the top of your fuzzy head as you dozed. And you know what? Things were perfect...well, almost perfect.

Aaron, when you laugh, your entire body laughs. You kiss your baby brother and try to share your toys with him. You adore your big brothers and mimic every move they make. You charm the socks off of everyone you meet. Your eyes are the most beautiful almond shape. You talk on the phone in a whispery voice that melts me. You're perfect...well, almost perfect. You find trouble. And when I redirect you to something else, you find trouble again. And again. And again. You STAY in trouble. Oh, but your sweet mischievous smile. You find trouble, and I scold you, and you give me that smile, and I forget how mad I was. And we repeat. Over and over and over.

Little Aaron, we joke that you're our future football player. We kid that all your roughness will pay off someday when you sign the contract to be a linebacker. And if that makes you happy, I'm right behind you. But, Aaron, if you want to be a teacher, or a scientist, or even a garbage man, Buddy, I want you to go for it. Love God and your family (in that order) and do whatever you decide to do with enthusiasm. And you'll be amazing. You ARE amazing.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Mama

Where, Oh, Where?

Where have I been?

I've been preaching. I was asked to guest preach at a little church in Seymour for two weeks. The first week I was there the electricity was out, and I preached by candlelight in the scorching hot little wooden church. It was very Little House on the Prairie. The second week the lights were back on (along with the air conditioning, thank goodness), and I had fewer jitters, so it went much smoother. I have really mixed feelings about this though. On the one hand, I loved being in the pulpit and sharing a message with the congregants (however few there were!), but on the other hand I just kept wondering what I was missing at my home church and feeling sorry that I had pulled the boys from the Sunday School classes that they love to visit a church with only one other child their age. So, I don't know where I'm headed right now, but I am thankful for the opportunity that came my way.

I've also been getting older. Yes, let's not make a big show of it, but the anniversary of my birth recently passed. I purposefully did not say birthday because I am not having any more of those. 29 was plenty. 30 sounds old. 30 feels old (or so I'm told, but I wouldn't know because I'm staying 29). I think it's made especially difficult because I can't dye my hair right now (on account of the little guy growing inside me), so my grays mock me every morning by multiplying faster than I can pluck them out.

And I've been incubating. Baby Nolan is due in 47 days (not that I'm counting or anything), and I am finally feeling PREGNANT. I have to type that in all caps because it can only be said in a heavy, groaning voice, and I can't recreate that for you here. So, PREGNANT is the best I can do. Overall, it's still been a really easy pregnancy, but now I feel like I have to struggle for breath, and my hips are finally hurting (as if they needed to spread some more, seriously), and his knees are so bony and poking me right in the gut. At my last appointment I asked the doctor to identify the huge bump in my abdomen that was causing me so much pain, and she said, "Well, that's your little guy's knee!" as if I should swoon and put it in his baby book. I guess I didn't look very happy because she offered to help me move him. Do you know how this is done? She had me lay down, then put both hands on my belly and, I'm not kidding here, she practically did a handstand she put so much weight on my middle. Yowza. That was unpleasant. The good news is that it worked--he turned on his side and moved his knees. The bad news is that he was back in the painful knee-forward position by evening. He gets the hiccups all the time, which, again, sounds cuter than it is. This child shakes his entire body when he gets the hiccups. This is only tolerable for about 3 minutes before I grow impatient with the full body jerk inside me every 5 seconds or so. So, if you ask me how I'm feeling, I'll probably answer, "PREGNANT." And that's about as good as can be expected at 33.5 weeks, huh?

Oh, and in my spare time I've been homeschooling and cleaning out closets to make room for fall clothes and washing and hanging baby clothes and visiting doctors (one ear infection, one diagnosis of Vitiligo, 3 dental cleanings, and a trip to the vet--in addition to my bi-weekly OB/GYN appointments) and also completely revamping our entire diet in the hopes that I can prevent little Aaron from getting back in the ear infection cycle this winter.

I'm very tired now.

Happy Birthday, Dear Jackson

Dear Jackson,

Today you turn 5 years old. I don't know how that's possible. I can still remember so vividly the weight of you in my arms for the first time, the intoxicating sweet smell that followed you around, and the softness of your fuzzy head as you nestled into my shoulder. You loved to be carried on my chest with your tiny legs tucked under your body like a little frog. You really weren't much of a crier, but when you did cry your face turned beet red and, buddy, you wailed. How is it possible that all of that was five years ago? When did you turn from a helpless infant into this charming boy?

Jackson, there's so much I will tell you someday. I want to tell you about the time I took you for your 9-month well-baby checkup and they told me that your liver was enlarged. The doctor guessed it was probably harmless but wanted to order an ultrasound to rule out cancer. CANCER. I heard that word echo in my head for the next 4 days as I wavered between begging God to take care of you and fury that He would bless me with this precious person only to take you away from me. I have never been so scared in all my life, and I've never cried that many tears. I can remember feeling your brother kicking around inside me (I was pregnant with Ei at the time) and feeling so torn because I wanted to give you a piece of my own liver but knew that I couldn't with Baby Ei inside me, and it was too early to deliver him. I don't think I slept at all for 3 nights. When they told me the ultrasound looked fine and that you were okay, I couldn't stop kissing you and holding you close to me. You squirmed away and wanted me to put you down, but I needed to hold on to you.

Jackson, someday I want you to know how I worry about you. I watch you suck in your cheeks when you're nervous, and I want to pull you close to me and make the world go away. I want to protect you from all that makes you scared and sad and embarrassed, but I also want to teach you how to believe in yourself and talk yourself through the anxiety. I want to push you hard to be the best you can be, but I also want you to know that the best you can be doesn't have to be perfect. I want you to know how proud I am of you, but I don't want you to think I'm proud of you only because of what you accomplish. You're a complex person, but I get you because you're my mini-me. I understand, but I don't have a clue what to do about it. And I worry all the time that I'm not getting it right.

Jackson, I don't even have the words to describe how much I love you. When I asked God for a baby, I hadn't thought much about what it would be like to have a child. I knew I wanted little doll clothes and strollers and tiny shoes (oh, the shoes!), but I didn't think ahead to what it would be like when my baby turned five. I had no idea that I would still sneak into your room at night to watch you sleep. I didn't know that I would still find the smell of your hair intoxicating. I couldn't have guessed that I would still struggle with my own need to hold you close and your need to wiggle free. You changed my life, little man. You love to remind me that I wasn't even a mom until you came along, and you have no idea how true that is. It's not just a title. Before you were even born, I fell in love with you, and my life started changing. I didn't know I could love like this. And, Jackson, it wasn't just me! You changed our whole family. I have never loved your Daddy as much as I did the day he tried to change your diaper for the first time. It took him a good 15 minutes just to get the old one off (meanwhile a very patient nurse was standing by waiting to take your vitals, and, bless her heart, she didn't laugh even once). Since you came along, I've fallen in love with Daddy's playful, patient, tender side. And our extended family? Never have we been so close. You wouldn't believe the welcome you received. My hospital room was packed to the brim with balloons, gifts, food, and so many people who just couldn't wait to squeeze you. For days we had a steady stream of visitors at our door. No one could get enough of you. Even after the newness of you wore off, we found new reasons to get together. Everyone just wanted to be near you. That hasn't changed. Five years later, we still have a steady stream of visitors at our door. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends--everyone wants to be a part of your life and watch you grow into this fantastic young man. You are a well-loved person, Jackson Reed...but no one loves you like your Mama loves you.

Happy birthday, precious Jackson. I hope all your birthday wishes come true. And I hope someday you have a child of your own so you can love someone this richly.

Yours forever,

Mama

My Toddler

Aaron Michael, 1 year ago

My baby Aaron turned one today. One. Whole. Year. He's a toddler. Well, he's still MY baby. And, following in the tradition I started with my other boys, here are the things that I love most about him.

His cheeks are so soft and chubby. I can't walk past him without kissing them.

His hair won't lay down no matter how hard I try. It has a mind of its own--just like Aaron.

He bullies his big brothers.

He throws things from his high chair and laughs. And it's so cute I pick them up every time.

He holds everything to his ear as though it's a phone. He's been known to talk on the cello-case-phone, paper-towel-tube-phone, graham-cracker-phone, and the diaper-cream-phone. He really carries on a conversation too. I wonder what he's talking about?

He explores--but not too far. He always comes back to me.

He gives the best slobbery kisses in the world.

He has had more ear infections than I care to count this winter, but he's still sweet and bubbly.

He squints his eyes and throws his head back and whines when he's mad. And then he stops and opens his eyes to see if you noticed.

He smells so sweet I can't stand it.

He loves his brothers more than anything in the world. Even in the midst of a terrible tantrum, he will stop and smile if he sees one of them approaching him.

He darts his tongue in and out while making silly noises. We call him our lizard.

He laughs at himself.

When he says Mama in his precious baby voice, it makes all the middle of the night feedings, diaper explosions, mealtime messes, grocery store tantrums, stretch marks, and countless trips to the pediatrician all worth it.

He's taught me to slow down, stop trying to make things perfect, and just enjoy the moment.

Just look at him. What's not to love?

Aaron Michael, this afternoon

How Do I Love Thee

Yesterday my first baby turned 4. In celebration of his life, here are the things I love most about him (in no particular order).

He has the most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen.

He has a dimple on his right cheek that will melt your heart.

He uses big words like improvise and destination.

He calls bananas "gananas."

He loves his brothers and tries very hard to make them happy.

He has a passion for music already.

He prays several times every day.

He wants to know more about God and asks me to read to him from the Children's Bible.

He likes to write cards to his favorite people.

He remembers everything he hears.

He has friends from different races and has never once asked why they look different.

He can give you directions to our house, using left/right and correct road names.

He says "I love you" spontaneously, and often.

He follows directions.

He wants to know why things are the way they are and how things work.

He gets nervous and sucks in his cheeks when he's around unfamiliar people.

He looks forward to Sunday School all week.

He wants to please me so badly.

He forgives me when I'm impatient.

He still loves to sit in my lap.

I am so proud of him I could just burst.

Sometimes I call him Baby, and he protests that he is not a baby. I remind him that he's my baby and will be forever, even when he's an old man with babies of his own.


I have so many more things to say. I love him for so many more reasons. Happy Birthday, Jackson. I have loved every minute (okay, most minutes) of the last 4 years. I love watching you grow. I love seeing the person you're becoming. I can't wait to see what kind of man you'll become. I am so proud of you. I love you so much. -Mama


Jackson, 1 day old