Dear Emerson, about today...

Dear Emerson,

Today is a strange day. September 19th is typically hard day for me, sometimes I am able to be positive about this day, and be a strength for others, and sometimes I want to be left alone to wallow in my self pity. But this day feels totally different now that you're here with me. You could probably tell something was different because when I walked in your room to get you out of your crib this morning, I started to cry the second I saw and you seemed a little confused. I was even a little confused because it came out of no where. After all, for most of the people in the world, today is just a normal day the same as any other. But 11 years ago on this very date, I lost my mom.

I shouldn't say I lost her, she isn't lost. She died. She is in heaven now. Sometimes I have dreams that I find her and she faked it all so she could run away, but those are just dreams and nothing else. But that number, 11, is scary to me. Every year I get closer to a number that will mean I've been without her longer than I got to be with her. I never wanted the majority of my life to be a life without a mother. But sometimes we don't get to choose our circumstances.

This day, it makes me feel different with you here. It doesn't feel overwhelmingly sad, but it doesn't feel like I can be super positive either. I think what's different is that now that you're here, I have to be sad for an entirely second person now.

Now that you're here I feel sad for me and for you.
I feel sad for you because you don't even know the goodness that you're missing out on without her here. and I feel sad for me because I do.
I feel sad that you won't ever be in a single photograph with her.
I feel sad that she doesn't get to hold you and kiss you and brag about you to her friends.
I feel sad because she's not here to tell me how similar you are to me when I was baby and to argue with me about new parenting tactics vs old school parenting tactics.
I feel sad that she doesn't get to come stay for too long to spend time with you and get on my nerves.
I feel sad that I won't ever get to see how excited you get when she walks in a room.
I feel sad for you that you won't ever get to hear her tell you how much she loves you.
I feel sad that I can't send her pictures of you everyday so we can laugh together about how funny you are. But most of all I feel sad that she's been gone so long that neither you nor I will ever have the slightest idea what it would feel like to have all of these things with her. Because for me she's only memories now and for you she'll just be stories other people tell you.

But that's just life sweet boy, everyone dies sometime. Which means a lot of people have to go through their life too long without moms, and dads, and grandmas, and grandpas. And quite frankly, the way my life worked out after she died was a series of intricate events that led me to your dad which ultimately led to the creation of you (sorry to be gross) and I can't know for sure but there's a large possibility that if she were alive I wouldn't have you or your dad so I can't say that I would change anything, as hard as that is to say out loud. If I only got to have my mom for a short time in my life so that I could end up with you, then so be it. You are worth everything to me. I would suffer the worst pain a million times over for you.

In spite of this strange sadness I'm feeling today, to be over indulgent in self pity today or any day would be a slap in the face to all the huge blessings in our life that we have. We have a good life. But it's okay to be sad, and feel things that are hard to feel.  But, when you're mourning what you don't have don't let yourself forget who and what you DO have. Which is a lot of things and a lot of people.

I love you, sweet baby.

Idahohnoyoudint.

I'm not sure of the exact date, but around this time give or take a couple of days, we were pulling off of the i-15 and into the city of nothing, our new home, Idaho Falls.

Immediately, I was unimpressed, but I wasn't anticipating anything more so it didn't surprise me. I was, however, a little surprised at how quickly the feeling of dread and despair had overwhelmed me, since I had about a week to try and convince myself it would be ok. I had that heavy almost painful feeling in the pit of my stomach as we passed the wal-mart, the forlorn looking pancake house, and other buildings that looked just as sad to be in this town as I was.

                             

As we pulled up to the light located right next to "The Falls" I stared at the water, not knowing at the time that I was seeing absolutely all there was to see in this city. I looked to my right, a car was stopped next to us at the light, an older, beat up and rusted, white sedan with the windows down that contained a lone driver; a woman, possibly in her mid thirties, looking like the midway point of the faces of meth photo series--not completely overcome with meth face, but well on her way. She was wearing a spaghetti strap pink tank top, her hair pulled up with a scrunchie, smoking a cigarette. That's when my emotions surfaced, the flood gates opened, and the tears came. That woman, her cigarette, and her scrunchie were a symbol of all that I lost leaving beautiful Savannah, GA for Idaho Falls, ID, a town where people still wore scrunchies.

I still remember that day like it was yesterday. It's been a hard pill to swallow knowing that this place is my home, the place Taylor and I have been in the longest, and the place where my first baby was born. AND, Although there are terrible things about this place that still keep me from loving it (and knowing that I definitely will not miss it when we finally get to leave), there are good things that help me cope with being trapped here. Target, D.I., a few good people and friends I've made, the extremely low cost of living, the proximity to other places I'd rather be (I.E. Bear Lake, Yellowstone, Salt Lake City) my cute house, and my cute family. When I get asked the question "How do you like living in Idaho Falls?" I can now say, "It's ok, in the summertime." which is an upgrade from "No comment" or "I don't." or "This is what hell will be like."

Here's to hoping that I can survive the next couple of years here unscathed.

Emerson: Month Nine

Honestly dude, I'm seriously slacking on these. BUT I AM DETERMINED TO DO THE LAST THREE (only 3 left? sorry, but I am going to cry for a sec). It's pretty much a guarantee I won't be doing anything of this sort for any subsequent siblings you may or may not have. But one of the perks of being the oldest I guess, your parents put effort into documenting your childhood.

This month has been fun! You think that because you are mobile that means you can do whatever you want, whenever you want. I think your dad helps perpetuate that belief for you too. Once upon a time I read that if you tell babies "NO" with enough conviction and the right tone, they will comply. HAHAHAHA it makes me laugh now, because I've tried telling you no a million different ways and you either think it means "yes, dump the hot melted Scentsy wax all over the floor" or you think it means something hilarious and it makes you laugh. *sigh* You are seriously a P.I.T.A. sometimes, a really adorable one though. I love you.

You started saying MAMA! I'm not sure if you associate that word with me, orr if it's just a sound you make, but either way, it melts my icy cold heart. and you LOOVE to wrestle with Roscoe these days. I think it's fun that you're finally able to play with him, but sometimes you take it a little too far. But he'll live... I hope.

This summer has been really fun. We went to Bear Lake for Raspberry Days. You thought the parade was mostly cool and you thought floating in the lake in your floatie was mostly cool too. Sometimes you just stare with no particular emotion on your face, and I think that means you're content, or at the very least, indifferent, which is better than you throwing fits. (You probably get that face of indifference that from me.)

 Your dad had to work but I got to take you to Yellowstone for your first time (out of the womb). You were mostly indifferent about what went on there ALSO. But, Trayton and Ridge went with us, and you love them. So that was the best part for you. The best part for me was taking a selfie with you with Old Faithful going off behind us.

At your 9 month check up you were 18.35 pounds and 29" tall! Still slender and tall. But you still have those chunky thighs that I love to NOM!

Anyway, in spite of the fact that you're into everything and starting throwing the kind of fits where you throw yourself on the floor and scream bloody murder, I still love the crap outta you!

Love,
mom xoxox

Emerson: Month Eight

Emerson,

hello darling. It's hard for me to even believe I'm already writing another one of these. But, I think you're probably tired of hearing about how quickly it seems that you're growing up. One day you'll understand.

Well, we were in Georgia for a couple more weeks and about a week after you hit your 7th month mark you starting crawling! It seemed like it happened so fast. I thought it would be much more of a process but you were determined to be on the go. And off you went and you haven't slowed down since.

In addition to crawling you've started attempting to eat dog food, climbing the stairs and pulling up on anything and everything, the TV stand, the end table, the bookshelf, the wall, the couch, the guitar stands, the drawers in the hallway... and you fall about every 10 minutes. so there's a lot of crying, but you're fairly resilient and truth be told I like the opportunity to comfort you. Not saying I like when you're hurt but I do enjoy when you need me, which feels like less and less. :(

You LOVE your dad. You prefer him to me and it makes me jealous all the time. When he comes home from work you just cannot contain your excitement. It's pretty adorable so I'll let it slide THIS TIME.

Outside is your favorite place to be. You'll crawl around all over the grass like it ain't no thang. (Which I've heard sometimes babies apparently hate grass) Also, I caught you eating dirt while I was gardening. So that made me feel like a pretty good mom. But, better dirt than dog poop.

You're so cute and we love you so much. Even if you throw fits all the time. We're just enjoying every second with you and we are so glad you are ours.

Love you forever,
mom xoxo

born free.

Happy Fourth of July!
Enjoy these beautiful photos of our child.