One year ago.

Today is the one year anniversary of meeting our little baby girl.

One year ago today we went to the hospital and I delivered her little body. Two days later, we left the hospital and discovered that fall had arrived. We drove back to our apartment, and the tree-lined streets were ablaze and littered with golden leaves. Our hearts were broken, and yet the rest of the world was moving along without us as though nothing had happened. It was the most bitter and melancholy feeling I’d ever had.

It’s a lot different this year. The golden leaves are a joy to see—I know that they mean our little boy is coming soon. But sometimes, in between all the happiness and excitement, I look at those leaves and remember the melancholy feelings. The long, lonely days missing our little girl. I think they’ll come back to me every fall season.

A few weeks ago, Ryan asked me what I thought we should do honor her today. We both thought that it would feel strange to do any sort of celebrating. We felt a little lost. What does one do on a day like today? I didn’t know how to answer him.

And then I remembered this:

When we had the inspection on our house, the man who came to do the inspection told us, right out of the blue, about a baby boy that he and his wife had lost years ago. He was a pretty serious and quiet guy—not the chatty type. I still can’t quite figure out what even made him bring it up, but I loved that he did. I loved that, even years later, he still felt it was important to remember that little baby. We were total strangers, but that didn’t stop him from talking about his son.

So we’re spending today, and every October 5^th, remembering her. We’re going to say a prayer of thanks for all the little and big ways she blessed our family, and a prayer of thanks that she’s happy and safe in heaven.

That, and I baked a chocolate cake with pink frosting. Because, technically, it is her birthday after all. And I’m convinced that any daughter of mine would appreciate a chocolate cake with pink frosting.

Happy Birthday, little girl.

AN UPDATE

You guys!

We’re in our little house! Except I don’t know why I’m saying little, because it actually feels huge. I mean, I have to go up an entire flight of stairs to use the bathroom. And my dining room table looks child-sized in its new room. And sometimes, when Ryan tries to say something to me from another room, I can’t hear him. And I have to say WHAT? three times before we finally give in and meet in the middle of wherever we were to talk to each other. Huge, I tell you!

I’m still not feeling quite at home here yet. I think it’s all the boxes. And despite a rather good start, we still have a pretty long list of things to get done. On Saturday a whole bunch of family came over to help us move. We rented a U-haul and our brawny brothers moved almost everything we own in just two trips (thanks, guys!) My mom and sisters stayed here and cleaned the house from top to bottom (thanks, ladies!) I moved from room to room feeling overwhelmed, while being told repeatedly to sit down (thanks for nothing, Amelia.)

There have been a few hiccups along the way. Like how our box spring doesn’t fit up the stairs. We’ve been sleeping on the floor in the bedroom while our partially cut in half box spring taunts us from the living room. We’re still undecided on how to handle that situation. But the kitchen is unpacked, the bathroom is clean, and there’s a fresh coat of paint in the nursery. So, we’re getting there.

Speaking of the nursery, this baby boy is still snug in my tummy. I’d love it if he stayed in there at least a week or two more so I can settle a few things with the house, and also find all the things I need to put in hospital bags. But, my curiosity is getting the best of me, and I’m anxious to meet my little boy. I can’t wait to find out if he has hair! HAIR!

With all the chaos going on in my life right now, I feel a little out of the loop. We still don’t have internet hooked up, so I haven’t even had a chance to read my favorite blogs, let alone write in my own. I’ve got lots of inspiration and good ideas rolling around in my head, so once the baby comes and things are more settled, I’d love to start keeping up with a more scheduled blogging routine. Life is more fun for me when I blog. It’s a fact. I hope you’ll all stay with me!

That being said, I do have a pretty special post all ready to go for tomorrow. Come back, okay?

See you then!

ps: Thank you to all who left such wonderfully comforting messages about my Grandma—each one meant so much to me. You are all so sweet. I’m thankful for you! Hugs and kisses all around.

pps: I have been finding time to update my twitter (@Marthelia) and instagram (@ameliamarthelia) accounts, so feel free to follow along there! 

About my Grandma

Last Monday night I was in the middle of writing a blog post about the baby and the weekend and a bunch of silly things going on. I was about to hit publish when I found out from my sister that my Grandma had passed away from a heart attack. It was such a shock, and I cried there on the couch, saying Oh no, no! and other kinds of things that don't make sense when one hears surprising, sad news. She was in her 80's, and relatively healthy. She had a lot of life left in her, and it didn't seem right that she was gone. It still doesn't.

On Friday morning we left for her funeral in Michigan, where my she lived, where my mom grew up, and where I was born. I got to see my sisters and their husbands and babies, and so much family-- some that I wonder if I'll ever see again. It was all very bittersweet.

She had a beautiful funeral service that included some of her favorite hymns. I cried through them all. The pastor started out his sermon and described her as "soft-spoken."

And I thought, What? No. Not my Grandma.

My Grandma's name was Esther, and took every opportunity she could get to introduce herself as Queen Esther. She was feisty and quick and hilarious, and she didn't seem to be afraid of much. The first time she met Ryan, she sewed up a hole in the crotch of his jeans. He was nursing a cold at the time, and she offered to rub Vicks on his feet. Soft-spoken people don't do stuff like that. But my Grandma did.

She was born and raised on a farm, and had the world's best stories to tell about it. Then, in her teens she moved to Chicago with her sister to make money for their family, and found a job as a secretary in what I imagine to be a Mad Men type of office. She always told my sisters and me about the time a married man in the office slipped her a note and made a pass at her. Then she'd describe how she ripped up the note and ceremoniously tossed it into the garbage can, right in front of the guy.

She dated her cousin (a Gregory Peck look-alike) before meeting and marrying my Grandpa (a Gene Kelly look-alike) ((not too shabby, Grams!)) She had three kids and collected clown figurines and taught me how to make the best brown-butter chocolate frosting in all the land. She sang me to sleep countless times, and once gave me a sponge bath when I was very sick. She always stayed in my room when she'd come to visit, and my closet would smell like her perfume for days after she left.

The last time I talked to her, two or three weeks ago, I admitted that I was a little nervous about delivering the baby. Before I could go on, she rattled off three or four Scripture passages from memory. She had the strongest faith. She made me feel so much better. And then, before we hung up the phone, she promised to buy me a housecoat and nightie for the hospital. Funny little lady.

Now she's gone-- my mom is left without a mom, and I'm left without a very special Grandma. And then, when I start to feel sad, I remember she's in heaven with my Grandpa and my daughter and lots of loved ones. I couldn't be happier for her.

some quiet moments from the weekend ::

{The extent of my fall decorating. It makes no sense to pull out any of my pretty fall things, only to have to pack them back up when we move. Though, I do feel like I'm disappointing Martha Stewart. Oh the guilt!} {You know those black and orange Halloween candies-- the taffy and peanut butter things? As a child, all the old ladies in my neighborhood passed them out for trick or treating, and I hated them. Now I'm married to a man who LOVES them.}

 {How the boppy is being used. For now.}

 {A quick Saturday lunch in-between errands. Ryan prefers American cheese, while I like a good sharp cheddar, although it doesn't matter to me as much as long as my sandwich comes out slightly burnt.}

{Organizing baby stuff. For the fortieth time.}

{Aaaand the forty-first. Oh! And our rocker came in the mail. A good spot for the swaddled sock monkey to rest.}

the weekend

Happy Labor Day! Let us all take a moment to be thankful that I have not gone, nor do I plan to go into labor today.

. . . 

Thank you. We had a wonderful weekend! Did you? We saw loads of family-- on Saturday we headed north to see Ryan's brother Aaron play in a soccer tournament. But then he sprained his ankle (OH RON.) ((feel better!)) so we watched his team win without him. In between soccer games and family stuff, Ryan's mom threw us a cute little baby shower at the park. Lots of family and friends came to celebrate, and it was so sweet. We're crossing so many things off our list of baby needs, thanks to some very generous folks. Hooray!

And today! OH TODAY. Today was hot. And I've had it with the heat, did you know? Sometime in the early afternoon of this 2012 Labor Day I had meltdown #2 of the day. Poor Ryan went in for a romantic kiss and ended up with a positively soaked shoulder. (Sweat and tears.) Something about the heat makes me very irrational, and all the scary and stressful things going on in my life fill up in my brain all at once. 

I had a good cry. And then I felt better! So we went to the beach. 

The water has warmed up enough to still be shockingly cold, but not body-numbing. We went in as deep as our necks, then let the waves scoot us back towards the beach, little by little. It was wonderful and so good for me. We left feeling slightly sea-weedy, but so refreshed.

Our plan for the remainder of the evening is to celebrate the end of the last summer with just the two of us. Oreo milkshakes, air mattress in the living room, and a fan blowing directly on me-- that'll do it. So long, summer!

i'll light the fire, while you place the flowers in the vase that you bought today-ay-ay-ayyy.*

Thank you, all of you, for your sweet messages about our new house! It was so fun to share the news! We had heard a few weeks ago that the first offer on the house might not go through and were pretty hopeful, but I didn't want to say anything, you know, for fear of jinxing it. The past three weeks have been a lot of waiting and waiting and waiting and small amounts of gnashing of teeth and saying, "WHYYY? WHY IS IT TAKING SO LONG TO FIND OUTTT?" And then we found out and we were like, "Aww yeahhhh!" Actually, our reactions were pretty subdued because Ryan's aunt was staying with us and we wanted to be cool. So we high fived, and then whispered excitedly about it in our bed that night. 

We've got big plans for this little house. It's very clean and has been well-taken care of by the little old lady who lived there for 45 years. But, it's also very old-lady-looking. The bathroom has pink tile everywhere, and the kitchen is quite yellow-- a paint can in the basement told me it's exact name: banana split. Sounds delicious, but it's still getting repainted. All the updates certainly won't happen right away, but we're okay with that. We like projects.

Our closing date is still up in the air, but we are hoping to move in by early October. Which means I'm killing time by writing (and re-writing) lists. Between the baby and the house and my annual fall fashion wishes, the lists are getting out of hand. They're everywhere.

Anyway, I just wanted to say "thanks!" to you all for sharing in our excitement. I can't wait to get in there and show you around. It's gonna be fun.

OH, and the best part? Ryan thinks the baby room smells like Waffle Crisp. That lucky baby.

*We don't have a fireplace, and I call it a vase, not a vahse, but we have been singing that dern song a lot.

HEY GUYS

 Remember that cute little house with the blue shutters that I thought would never be ours?

WE GOT IT.

Miracle of miracles!

I shall have a pantry and a linen closet and a washing machine!

And the baby shall have a room of his very own,

to which he says:

Oh yes he does.

ps: Ryan is indeed "Tebow-ing" in that bottom photo, if anyone was curious. THAT'S HOW EXCITING THESE TIMES ARE.