The power of friendships. The gift of time.

Birthdays were a big deal in our house growing up. My Mom would go all out to make us feel special. So on my 10th birthday, when she told me we needed more ice and asked me to ride my bike to my Mama Clara's house to pick some up. I just hopped on my bike and went. Maybe I pondered the strangeness of the request on my ride but I am fairly certain I just did as I was told understanding that special days required unique requests.

I returned home to a backyard full of my closest friends shouting "Surprise!!" I don't even have to work hard to remember the absolute joy I felt that day (and it was a long long time ago.).

My 10th birthday. You are welcome.

Birthdays are a big deal.

Celebrating the triplets' and Little Red's birthdays has been my absolute favorite thing to do since...oh 1998! :) The triplets' first birthday was a celebration of successfully making it through sleepless nights, endless diapers, infinite feedings. We invited everyone in Chicago who had had a hand in getting them to their first birthday -- NICU nurses, doctors, physical and occupational therapists. We celebrated! And with that first party, I knew what my Mom so obviously knew, there is nothing better than honoring the life of those we love. Nothing better.

When I turned 49, Claire invited some of my circle of friends over for cake and ice cream. "Mom," she said, "I have learned in college that birthdays should have your people with you!"

For my 50th my family threw me a party and I got to hug and be hugged by friends I have known for years and years (and some I had only known since returning to MS).

Last year my birthday was about college graduates, moving to Delaware, packing boxes. My sweet family celebrated me well even in the midst of all that chaos but it was a season of good-byes with friends, not celebrations.

And this year, well, this year is like none other, right? And yet, my entire crew is home and we had a favorite meal gathered together and that was so beautiful and enough, really. It was wonderful.

But my friend Tracy had sent me a text earlier in the week that my Tupelo girls wanted to at least say a quick happy birthday that night. We have been trying in this season of staying home, to be intentional in a monthly Zoom call amongst the four of us. It has been a lifeline and so it made me smile that Tracy would organize a quick extra call this month for my birthday.

I went to my little room where I go when I Zoom with Teri, Tracy, and Neece, and opened my computer. As I hit the log in button the screen flickered strangely and then all these faces were there. And I mean all these faces -- way more than four! 25 faces from my life in Minnesota, Arizona, and Mississippi were on the screen in front of me! Faces that are scattered from coast to coast. Some faces that I haven't been able to see in years! And yet here they were, all there together.

And I knew immediately my girl who is so like me, and who loves to see her friends, had organized this gift that felt bigger than I can put into words.

If you are on a Zoom with 25 faces and your eyes are filled with tears, you won't be able to make out the little faces to even know who everyone is at first. Consider that a warning.

I legitimately couldn't take it all in. It was perhaps the most beautiful gift I could possibly receive that these took time away from their own families, away from their own schedules, to sit and smile, and laugh and reminisce. My girlfriends one by one shared how they knew me, how we met, how our paths crossed.

And suddenly, all the moving, all the figuring out how to plant roots in various places, all the hard good-byes and all the equally hard hellos, didn't feel so hard. And in a season where I am new -- again -- and am at home unable to plant social roots, this was exactly what I needed to remember.

Thank you, Claire -- oh it is fun to have an adult daughter! And oh my goodness, thank you Deb, Karen, Lisa, Robin. Thank you Stefanie, Orly, Avery, Ginny and Susie. Thank you Mary Alice, Heather, Brooke, Markietha, and Shelly. Thank you Carolyn, Teri, Rosemary, Neece (she is in the 10 year old's party pic too!), and Cindy. Thank you Debra, Tracy, LuEllen, Shannon, and Paula (I have tried to go in order of my screen pic!). Your friendships mean more to me than I can express. I love you all.

I know blessed is often reduced to a hashtag meme. But it is still a word I adore. It is still a word that evokes my gratitude. And it is definitely still a word that describes exactly how I feel after this absolutely beautiful virtual party!

Happy 22nd Birthday to Benjamin, Mason, and Claire!!!!

Today is the 22nd birthday of my amazing trio. And I will just tell you that birthdays while your kids are in college are for the birds. I haven't been able to see them, hug them, celebrate them all day. When they were growing up, I always let them take the day off from school so we could play -- but today was the final regular class day for Benjamin before his finals exams and one of the last for Mason and Claire. We couldn't just take the day off and play.

We also had tornadoes in the area all afternoon. So I couldn't just get in my car and make the college rounds.

No, rather, I have sat and watched a feast of sappy rom-coms with my 13-year-old who I think was missing the celebrating as much as her mom.

It occurred to me the second or third time Cate and I had to jump into the closet because the tornado sirens were going off that today wasn't that much different than their actual BIRTH day.

I didn't get to see them that day either.

Sweet first photos!

On April 18, 1997, I had been already been in labor for ten weeks. I had been on bed rest in the hospital for nine of those, not even allowed to wiggle a toe off the edge of the bed, never sitting up. I had taken a myriad of shots on a daily basis to promote lung development and we were praying them to a safe delivery date.

My due date was July 7. I knew they would come early, but I was shooting for May 27 -- my daddy's birthday. It never occurred to me -- never -- that we would have April babies!

But my body had done all it could do. Physical changes for me -- not the babies -- mandated a C-section on that April day. 

All together in one swing in the NICU!

As I was wheeled into the operating room, my nursing team filed in to kiss my cheek one by one. They had been caring for me -- and for these three -- for months. They all told me they were praying.

The room was full of medical personnel. Doctors and nurses for me, and an entire team for each baby.  Poor Wade, I was too scared to talk and he had NEVER seen me unable to speak. I think that scared him most of all.

The doctor warned me that the babies might not have enough lung strength to cry upon delivery. I was prepared. But each one of my mighty three gave a cry to greet the world before being whisked into the waiting hands of their own personal medical team.

I did the smocking for these little outfits while lying in a hospital bed -- my
dear friend Linda turned them into heirlooms for their baby dedication!

 I was taken to the recovery room and vividly remember just being so cold. My doctor got me this wonderful heater that blew hot air under my blankets. (Honestly, I dream about that heat some days.)

I was so anxious to see my babies but I wasn't yet stable enough -- my body just had had enough. Those precious recovery room nurses saw my angst and one of them dug through the cabinet until she found a Polaroid camera. She handed that camera to Wade and told him to go get me some photos. Wade was so hesitant to leave me but he too, was eager to see our babies. I needed him to go to them. He came back with my first visual of the little people I had been talking to for months. I have never loved three photos more.

I would be wheeled down to meet them myself 24 hours later when it was deemed safe for me. They were the most beautiful little bitty things I had ever seen.

Those tiny babies would spend the next weeks in the NICU where one would have a good day, one might stay steady, and one would take two steps backwards all before switching it up the next day. I very vividly remember thinking that as long as the days in that NICU felt, I was going to blink and they were going to be grown up. And I was so very right.

Today, they are finishing their final semester of college. All three of those babies who spent their childhood doing every single thing together -- will graduate in just a matter of weeks. And all three of those babies who were born almost three month too early, make me so proud I could burst!!!

They better be ready to celebrate the 22nd Anniversary-of-the-first-time-I-got-to-see-them-with-my-own-eyes tomorrow -- because that is totally a thing!

Buzz, my three, and the little sister!

Happy birthday, Benjamin, Mason, and Claire! You are seriously more loved than you can ever imagine!

Do you know what halcyon means?

Halcyon Days.

I read a book once, when my big kids were very little, where the narrator used that term to describe the season where her children were young, running around her backyard. I remember thinking I knew what she was saying but had never heard the term before so I looked it up.

According to my search, halcyon, in its adjective form means:  Denoting a period of time in the past that was idyllically happy and peaceful.

That word has echoed in my thoughts for years -- are THESE the halcyon days? Oh no wait, THESE must be the halcyon days.

The truth is with three children all the same age, then an added fourth -- peaceful was never an adjective that popped into any one's head to describe us.

Further, I have been chasing idyllic my entire life -- picturesque and blissful! I remember this house in the neighborhood between my mother's work and my great-aunt's home (those were my exploration boundaries as a child.) that I rode my bicycle by daily. It had a cute little front porch. and the windows had quaint little shutters. And the sweetest white picket fence. In the spring, daffodils would fill the flower beds and in the fall, the leaves on the tree just inside the fence would rain down on me as I drove past imagining the sweet little life of the family that lived within the walls. I was convinced they were living my idyll. I wondered how I would ever convince them to sell me that home as soon as I grew up.

Of course, life would take me far from my bicycle boundaries before I could buy a home. And my family of six would have been hard-pressed to fit into that sweet little house from day one. But the dreams of a little girl form the idyll of the big girl, right? And so I have sought porches, shutters, and picket fences for a long long time.

But happy? Oh we have had happy! Three bouncing babies with the sweetest smiles and a capacity to love that far exceeded their little bitty size brought more happy than I could ever imagine. And then when eight years later, the cutest little redhead was born to us, I thought my heart might burst with happy.

Happy has never been in short supply in our house. Of course, neither has pain, or heartache, or sadness. Over the years, I have longed to minister to other mothers with premature babies. And yet, I am aware that my family's road from prematurity is not idyllic, it isn't dream.

And so part of me was guarded when the triplets were young about reaching out. But as my amazing children have grown, I have become bolder -- knowing without a doubt that my trio can offer hope to those moms. Because hope and happy are only possible when you have been through the pain, the heartache, the sadness.

Perhaps you know that I just had a big birthday. Big. Huge. I turned 50. We have celebrated for almost two months and embraced and praised God for the years. But as the celebrations wind down, I can't help but once again wonder about the halcyon days. With one foot in one state and one in another as we continue the long distance commute for another school year, I feel overwhelmed by hard good-byes, exciting hellos, and the exhaustion of packing, unpacking, and making a home. I wonder about finding the idyllic. And then reprimand myself that happy and peaceful beat idyllic all day long. (And then I continue only searching for homes with a front porch -- some things are just hard to change.) 

I mean maybe halcyon days are beyond me. And on woeful days, I think yeah, maybe. But I am a girl who rather hates dwelling in the woeful. And so in my optimistic moments, I rather think we are on a grand adventure with more idyllic days ahead, more friends to gather, more memories to share, more porches to rock on.

But still. This summer I feel burdened that far too often we are submerging ourselves into a social media-minefield of what appears to be everyone else's halcyon days. We post the photo that captures the best of our best. We post the kitchen without any dirty dishes and a smiling family. We don't post the challenges of eating for our son. The smiling birthday party shots don't tell you that the air conditioner malfunctioned moments before the guests began to arrive. The vacation shots that show our smiling family in front of a picturesque fountain in a delightful piazza in Rome does not tell you the story of the angst of navigating the wheelchairs into oncoming traffic because the sidewalks were not accessible.

Far too many of my friends are finding pain in looking at only the idyllic right now. Far too many are hurting and fighting for their very lives while we fight for the picture-perfect dream. And so I desperately want us to keep sharing -- oh, you know that photos are my love language -- but I also want us to be more real with each other, to share the hard and the struggles, to remember that a good friend celebrates with us when we celebrate but also cries with us when we cry.

I am going to keep searching for my front porch -- but I promise to be real there. Ya'll will come rock with me? Won't you?

God took the unremarkable and made it so very markable!!

The day had been completely unremarkable. And unremarkable was exactly what we were looking for on April 18, 1997.  Our normal for the previous 10 weeks had been anything but normal. I was in a hospital bed on the Labor and Delivery floor at the University of Chicago. We had thrown away all the parenting books because we weren't completely convinced we would be parents as a result of this pregnancy.

I mean. I was convinced. God and I had spent a week in prayer meetings when the ultra-sound at 7 weeks revealed four possible sacs but the doctors thought they could only see heartbeats in two. They sent me home to come back the following week.

And so I spent that week in prayer. I mean in serious every-minute-talking-to-Jesus-prayer. And I had begged him to show us OUR children on the next ultra-sound and then prepare our hearts to accept the two, or the four.

Of course, we didn't anticipate the three fingers the doctor held up. But from that moment, I knew these were our three.

But weeks of bed rest -- complete and total bed rest (I won't give you the gore but just know I didn't so much as wiggle a toe out of that bed for ten weeks -- NOT FOR ANYTHING! Are you tracking with me??) had left me exhausted, humbled, and doubting. Doubting. I was too far removed from my week-long prayer meeting and fear had crept right up in that hospital bed with me.

The day we hit the 28-week-mark was a good one. Doctors had described it as a milestone -- the UofC had a high survival rate for premature babies IF WE COULD JUST GET TO THE 28 WEEK MARK. 

My body seemed to know. At 28-weeks I began to hemorrhage. When the attending physician wanted to see if she could stabilize me and stave off labor for even a few more days, I was in complete agreement. 

And that brought us right up to April 18 -- four days past the 28-week mark. And suddenly unremarkable, turned completely markable. I began to hemorrhage again. This time, my health and life were at risk as well as these amazing babies. Before Wade and I could even absorb the facts, I was being rushed to the operating room.

My mother describes the hallway on that L&D floor as coming to life -- nurses running up and down yelling that the triplets were coming. Everyone seemed to have a role, she says.

It has been 20 years. TWENTY years. If you asked, I could tell you exactly how that operating room felt and how many people were there. I could tell you that Benjamin was delivered first and at a whopping 2 pounds and 15 ounces cried for me before being whisked away by his medical team. I could tell you that Mason arrived on the scene a minute and a half later and weighed 2 pounds and 4 ounces. Even so small, he too cried and let me know he COULD before being whisked away. I can tell you exactly how I felt when Dr. Hibbard leaned over the drape to warn me that I might have three boys since we had all thought Mason was going to be a girl. I assured her there HAD to be a girl in there and she should definitely keep looking. My sweet Claire-bear -- all 2 pounds and 9 ounces --  was hiding (she of course KNEW it was too early to be born) but still cried for me before her team took her to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.

 It has been twenty years. And still I can describe how cold I was in the recovery room and how grateful I was when the nurse took down a Polaroid camera and sent Wade to get pictures for me to SEE our three. 

It has been twenty years, and I still remember the overwhelming thankfulness of being Mommy to the tiniest little humans I had ever met.

Today, we celebrated this trio a day early. Because they are busy in college tomorrow -- their actual birthday -- pursuing their dreams and making the most of the lives that God granted them!

 It has been twenty years of birthdays and I promise I am just as grateful for THIS one, as I was for the BIRTH day in 1997. 

Oh Benjamin, Mason, and Claire (birth order, always birth order), I thank God for twenty years of being your Mama. You -- and your baby sister -- are the brightest stars in my universe and the biggest blessings of my life. Happy Birthday, my trio. I love you so.

Shooting straight.

Today I was asked to provide a photo that I took a long time ago. I had to drag out my external hard-drive -- the one I guard with my life because it has so many old photos stored on it -- and dig around until I found the requested photograph. You might imagine what digging through old photos during THIS my trio's birthday month did to me...I spent a large amount of time scrolling, skipping, and jumping down memory lane. Sigh.

But today, it wasn't cute adorable toddler pics that captured my attention. Today, it was a summer of very hard, a season of emotional, and as I look back from here, a year that really grew us and changed us all.

You were here for it -- Benjamin's spine surgery. I shared all the feelings -- from my sadness when we realized how bad his spine had gotten to our highs and lows of recovery.

3-D scan of how bad his scoliosis had become.

Even here you can see how far he is leaning. We were zooming into his upcoming surgery that month and the weight of the unknown was heavy.

We had his x-rays in November and knew he required surgery. He didn't want to miss his spring theatre show and asked that we wait until after production. This night -- the last of the "Seussical" run -- the crew dedicated the show to Benjamin. I was a blubbering mess.

I kept this photo on my phone for the longest. My birthday lunch, just days before surgery. I was hanging on to my crew with all that I had. If I could have frozen time right here, I really would have. I was so desperate for the next week to go away.

Sent to us from the operating room -- we knew immediately the success the surgery was providing! Before and after spine shots!

Hanging on to my boy in the recovery room. 

And my goodness, these three were amazing. Surgery for one child does not only affect the patient, and the parents. No, these three felt the full weight of being afraid for their brother, of not knowing what the recovery would look like, and being sad for us all to be apart during the hospital stay. But let me assure you that these three were Benjamin's biggest cheerleaders. His whole demeanor changed when they came for visits. They kept the home running, and kept us smiling. And were overall simply rockstars!

Celebrating three months post surgery!!

So as we sail toward their 20th birthday -- I can't help but beam with pride in the young adults these three have become. Their childhood was not filled with ONLY cute pictures and matching outfits -- they went through some serious challenges. But those challenges brought character -- for all four of my crew. And I am thrilled to be in their cheering section as they enter this new decade!!

9,000 bottles AND solid food? Are you kidding me?

Our pediatrician's office was always completely full when we strolled in for visits. But bless that staff, I would barely get the triplet stroller through the door before they called my name and whisked us off to our own room to wait our turn. I choose to believe they were protecting my born-too-early-trio from excessive germs but let's be honest, they could have just as easily been moving us because we took up a lot of space when we rolled in!

Whatever the reason for it, by the triplets' first birthday, I knew what to expect at the well-baby visits. I pushed my big giant stroller through the door to her office confidently and waited for them to whisk us back.

When Dr. Mendelsohn came in, I knew we would have some hard conversations about milestones, and adjusting their age to their actual due date -- not their birthdate. I was ready with my questions. Prepared to ask this woman who had been so direct and honest with me since the trio's birth, for assurances that my three were going to be ok.

What I wasn't prepared for was her first question:

"So, how is the solid food going?"

Me: "Excuse me?"

Dr. M: "How are they doing with solid food?"

Me: "Um. Hmm. Um."

Awkward silence.

Me: "I know exactly how much formula to make each night to get us through the next day. The bottles fill the refrigerator but that's ok. We have a system. I know who likes which baby food -- they do not all like the same things. I know exactly how much rice cereal to prepare."

I was fairly begging for a badge of honor. Surely she was going to pat me on the back any minute now. I had survived the first year of three babies after all. Triplets. Twelve months. Close to 9,000 bottles. More like 12,000 diapers. At least 700 loads of laundry.

I knew how they liked to be burped. I knew Mason had to eat first. I knew I had to wake Claire to eat, she loved her sleep. I knew Benjamin needed music playing to eat.

And your first question to me is what again?

Dr. M: "Yes, but how are they progressing with solid food."

Me in my smallest voice looking at my lap: "I don't know. We haven't tried it."

To her credit she just smiled at me then proceeded with her full exam of each of my amazing trio.

As she finished she turned to me again and said: "Go home. Feed them. Try grilled cheese for starters." And then she patted me on the back.

I am pretty sure today -- 19 years after that doctor's appointment -- my three will still rush to the table for grilled cheese sandwiches. They have always loved them.

But that first night -- they inhaled them! Mason Shrader -- the one that had to be fed FIRST -- ate three all by himself.

What happens when Daddy has the task of cleaning them up after supper....
I am pretty sure that is spaghetti sauce holding their hair in place!

*I'm preparing my heart to celebrate the fast-approaching 20th birthday of my trio this month. I'll be here sharing some of our story for the next few days. I'd love for you to join me!

Happy birthday times THREE!!!!

Today is the 19th time I have had the privilege of wishing Benjamin, Mason and Claire a happy happy birthday! And yet, I will tell you the truth that that is not even close to enough to make up for the fact that I didn't get to see them -- much less hold them -- on their original BIRTH day.

I got to hug all three of them this morning. I took Benjamin to classes and we dropped Mason at Millsaps. I even went back and delivered his laundry and made his bed with clean sheets! I have talked with Claire on the phone and texted her more than once. We are missing each other today. We are used to getting all the hours of this special day to celebrate.

But that original birth day wasn't even like this. I SAW them today. But the day they were born was terrifying and frightening, scary, and uncertain. And the most beautiful day ever.

On April 18, 1997, I had already been in the hospital for weeks. Early contractions had landed me on bedrest at 19 weeks pregnant. By 22 weeks, I was in a bed on the Labor and Delivery floor and didn't even wiggle a toe off the edge of the bed again while pregnant.

At 28 weeks exactly -- a magic number for the University of Chicago who had success in keeping premature babies alive at that mark -- I began to hemorrhage. And though amazing doctors stopped labor for four more days, my body had simply had enough and when I began to hemorrhage again on April 18, we knew the babies were on their way.

Though they all three came out crying -- something we had been warned they might not do -- they were whisked away by a team of Neonatal specialists in order to save their little lives. A kind recovery room nurse, trying to keep me happy as well as healthy, pulled out a polaroid camera and sent Wade to the nursery so I could SEE my babies. I have never wanted to hold anything like I wanted to get out of that recovery bed and go hold those three teeny tiny little beans.

Staring at the Polaroids, writing the name of each beautiful gift, and hoping and praying they would be ok, THIS day was far far away. And yet, on this their 19th birthday, I have three finishing their freshman year in college. I have three successfully stretching, reaching and doing the work to obtain their goals, their own dreams.

So today i celebrate these three and say thank you Benjamin, Mason, and Claire -- on April 18, 1997 you made all MY dreams come true!

Happy birthday!!!

Double-Digits Here She Comes!!

This morning I opened the garage door as we were leaving for church and was greeted by unexpected blooms on the bushes in front of my house. Beautiful bright Camellia blooms -- in my favorite shade of deep pink. I was delighted.

I had no expectation for what the bushes were in front of my home -- one of those fun perks of moving in after blooming season -- and certainly no idea that whatever they were they would decide to bloom on this early November morning.

And then I got tickled. Because really, the unexpected gift of these blooms coincided perfectly with the celebration of another unexpected little gift in this house.

The triplets were eight years old when I struggled to overcome what I assumed was jet lag after a trip to Phoenix to work on the construction of our new home. I kept saying to anyone who would listen that I thought the absolute exhaustion the trip had left with me didn't seem conducive for the time difference between Phoenix and our then home of Dallas, TX. I mean really.

Of course it wasn't jet lag at all. 

We worked hard to think of a name for this little girl. We enlisted the triplets' help but after having to nix Frodo, Anakin, and Obi Wan, I reminded them that they each have a family name as well as a Biblical name and I would like the same plan for the new baby.

Bethlehem was a popular choice among my three. Then John. Paul. Then John Paul. I finally decided Wade and I should come up with names and then present choices.

After settling on Catherine Grace -- our Cate -- I was sharing the story within earshot of little Claire. I told the woman asking about the name, that while Catherine was in our remote family, I just really wanted a Cate and my husband agreed that after triplets, I definitely should get my pick. I went on to explain that Grace is a gift that we do not deserve or expect and that this baby was definitely that. To which the ears of my girl pricked up and she exclaimed: "Mama and Daddy may not deserve her but I do. I have been waiting on her my entire life!!!"

And it is the absolute truth. Catherine Grace Shrader entered the world on November 9, 2005 and changed us all for the better. We had been waiting on her our whole entire lives and didn't even know it.

When at two years old, she climbed out of her high chair and up on Benjamin's wheelchair to wipe the ice cream off of his chin, she taught us that accepting and loving her brothers came naturally. She loved them from the first with an innate knowledge that we work together as a family to help them overcome obstacles.

She taught us that we could in fact stretch and grow -- from parents of triplets to parent of triplets AND one more. 

She pulled fire alarms that forced a school to come up with a plan for her brothers' second floor evacuation. I am sticking with that version too because otherwise the sheer embarrassment of NOT being able to stop that little not-yet-two-year-old-hand as it reached for the bright shiny red knob still mortifies me! (And we did have a fire plan that I had been begging for for three months within two days!)

She almost punched a little boy who called her brother weird. Luckily I moved faster that day to stop a 3-year-old who felt strongly the need to do a bit more than just explain that her brother was not weird.

She held our hand and gently led us into a world of being sideline parents. From soccer to softball to everything in between, she showed us the ropes and helped us find our cheering voices!

She has moved from the only hometown she has ever known this year. She has started school for the first time outside our little homeschool home. She had to have emergency surgery the very first week of school. And two of her favorite people on the planet moved away to college. The changes, challenges and losses should have knocked her flat. Not our Little Red. She has rocked every single change.  She has overcome every single challenge. And she has found strength in accepting what can't be changed.

I really really could not be more proud.

Once when she was three, a stranger asked her her name: "I'm Cate. I'm a gift," was her prompt reply. And she is. She just absolutely is.

Happy 10th birthday, my precious Little Red! I give thanks for your birth every single day! You, my dear, are now a double-digit gift!! And I love you more!