Blessing

I woke up early on Sunday, and something was wrong. I didn't wake up at 4:00 A.M. For Bebe's feeding. It was 5:30! I thought to myself that she must be starving, and how could I sleep straight through a feeding. What was I thinking! I raced to the bassinet, and pressed the button for the small light. Our room was filled with a soft glow. As I looked into the crib I noticed something was missing. The baby was gone! Well she certainly hadn't fled on her own. I quietly crept into the living room, and found her on the couch snuggled up to my mom. An empty bottle sat on the coffee table. Everything was just fine. I went back to sleep for a half an hour. Then I knew I needed to get up and moving.
Church started at 10:00 A.M., and we needed to be there a few minutes early. Since our home was overflowing with company the sooner I took my shower, the better. I enjoy a good hot shower, but since I am typically self centered I don't think about anyone else wanting such things.
I took my time getting ready. Two hours later, I looked in the mirror. The last ten months of my life had been so full of change. In that time I had gained about fifty pounds, then in the course of a few hours I had lost thirty. Over the last five weeks I had lost an unknown amount. Since I refused to weigh myself I'll never really know, but by the way my cloths were fitting I felt like my prebaby weight was about fifteen pounds away. I could see myself again. I was completely ready, but I didn't want to put my dress & shoes on until the very last second. I didn't want to get messed up while I prepared Bebe for her big day. Yes, visions of projectile vomit, and other natural disasters raced through my head. I decided it would be best to wear my robe until it was time to leave.
When I entered the living room people were lazily milling around a few T.V.'s were on, and children were grazing on the many types of cereal they had found in the pantry. My husbands mother was feeding the baby. Bebe drank one ounce of her four ounce bottle. It had taken her nearly twenty minutes to accomplish this task, and she began to cry in protest. My mother-in-law set the bottle down, and said that she wasn't hungry. I was pretty sure she was hungry. I knew that I hadn't fed her at 6:00 and I was pretty sure nobody else had. Even if she wasn't really hungry she needed to eat we had to stay on schedule. I grabbed the baby, and began trying to burp her. After about ten minutes I was rewarded for my efforts. Bebe ate two more ounces. Then I drew her a nice warm bath, and grabbed her special soap. She watched me carefully as I washed her. She didn't cry at all. It was like she knew this was a big event. I wrapped her warm little body in a soft fluffy towel, and took her to her room. We used her special lotion, and put her in her beautiful plain white slip. embroidered on the bottom was her full name, the name that she would be given in just a few hours time, and the date of her blessing. I sat her up, and brushed her hair. The actual dress was so enormous that we couldn't fit her into her car seat with it on so we decided to dress her when we got there. She was ready to go. The whole house was in an up roar of excitement, but I was calm, Bebe was calm, and while the house filled with more and more excitement we sat still in the rocking chair, and let the world spin around us. People were yelling, children were running. One little girl walked slowly to her grandma and said,"Grandma, I don't feel good." then passed out flat on her face on our tile bathroom floor with a smack. This shook me out of myself involved state of mind but only for a moment. I was so focused on my little miracle, that nothing could touch me for long.
Soon it was time to go. I handed Bebe over to her father so that they could have a little quiet time, while I got dressed. I smoothed my dress over my slip. They I went to put on my jewelry. I put on my earrings, then the necklace that I had been given for my very first Mother's Day. Then I looked at my engagement ring, and my wedding band. I hadn't worn them in over four months. I had been worried that my fingers would swell, and the rings would have to be cut off of me. I decided to try them on, just to see if they would fit. They did, and for the first time in months I felt dressed. I went to the closet, and from the top shelf I grabbed the bright yellow bag where I had hidden my own idea of treasure. I took the bag, and placed it on our cedar chest. I removed a yellow box with dark black bold print reading FENDI. Inside the box was a silky black bag. I opened the bag and removed the contents, two elegant black patent leather peep toe slingback four inch heels decorated with a large black on the toe. My treasure. A gift from my mother who had bought them from the flag ship store at the very end of the via Condotti in Rome, Italy for my twenty-fifth birthday. I hadn't been able to wear heels for months, my feet so painfully swollen wouldn't have fit into these ones even if I had possessed the balance to wear them, but now my feet slipped into them for the perfect fit. I was ready.
We drove four blocks to our church, and It was buzzing with activity already. We went in and found our bishop, and reminded him that we would be blessing our daughter that day. Then my husband introduced our bishop to his father, who would be giving the blessing. Bebe and I found seats, and we saw that the chapel was filled with family and friends. A feeling of warm gratitude washed over me. The meeting began, and soon it was time to bless my daughter.
I listened to her grandfather giving her the meaningful name we had carefully selected. A name which echos wisdom, strength, knowledge, and timeless beauty. She is named after a unique ancient church residing in Istanbul, Turkey. A building that has weathered centuries of change, and still stands steadfast. A true masterpiece. Her middle name is that of my late grandmother to always remind her of her family. Tears sprang into my eyes, and I let them come. In that moment I knew two things. I knew of the power and existence of God, and I knew that I had been allowed to participate in the greatest and most common of all miracles. I was a mother, and no matter what else happens in this life I will be eternally grateful for the endless joy motherhood brings me.
After the blessing the father usually holds his infant child up so that the entire congregation can see them. Some fathers do this timidly or they are so wrapped up in the moment that they forget about it altogether. Not my husband. Her was so proud of his beautiful little child that he held her up in a manner befitting a princess. Her lacy bonnet gracefully covering her head, her black hair peaking out from underneath it. Her intricate dress trailing long beyond the existence of her feet. upon seeing her face the congregation uttered a unison,"Awww...." It was one of the most meaningful moments of my life.
After church we went back to the house and started working on the food. Nothing from the day before turned out at all, and my streak of bad luck continued, as the bowl of frosting, which didn't set up at all, was dropped on the floor in the kitchen. It exploded from the stainless steel bowl and I found chocolate marshmallow mess in very strange places for the next several months. Luckily the hamburgers turned out perfect. Of course I can't take any credit for that. My mother who owned a local drive-in restaurant for over thirty years cooked and decorated the burgers for me.
It was a perfect mess of a day, but yes it was, in my opinion, perfect.

Hello World!

Bebe was just a little over one month old, and the time had come for her formal debut. In our religious community each child is given a name, and a blessing usually on the first Sunday of any given month. We chose the first available Sunday. I believe it was June 2, 2008. We invited friends and family members to attend the meeting, and come to our house for a meal afterward.
The blessing is given by a close male family member. We chose my husbands father. The first Sunday of the month is also a testimony meeting, so anyone can stand up and testify about ways in which they feel blessed. This is a big event for every mother. Bebe would be introduced to our little world, and not only that, this was my debut as a mother. I wanted everything to be just right.
On Saturday morning I woke up very early. I had so much to do, and my mother was arriving to help at around 9:00 A.M. I was leaving the house for a hair appointment at 10:00 A.M., and would be leaving my child for the very first time. I had to get my hair colored. I'll be honest, I am a natural blond, I think, but my natural color is very dark blond, so I had some killer roots that needed to be taken care of.
I remember being so nervous about the baby. I had left her with my mother, and my husband, not a gang of wild hooligans, but in the back of my mind I just kept thinking that I shouldn't have left her.
I kept thinking that I was the only person on the planet that knew how to feed her properly. I worried thinking that she might not cry when she was hungry, and that the time might slip away and since she wasn't crying my mother would assume that she wasn't hungry, and didn't need to eat and then the feeding schedule would be off, and that would surely lead to the end of the world!
I thought I would enjoy getting my hair done. I thought it would be relaxing to get away from the house, but I couldn't wait to get out of that salon. When my stylist was finished I gave her the money I owed her plus a little extra, and then I sprinted for my car and drove home like a wild woman luckily it was just a few blocks.
I ran into the house to find that my mother had started cleaning, and Bebe was fast asleep in the arms of her father. I also noticed that there was a four ounce bottle near her, and that she had only drank two of those four ounces. I could usually get her to drink three ounces. My husband handed her to me, and I asked for the bottle. He said,"Kaysie she isn't hungry. She won't eat anymore." I began trying to burp her. This was always some trouble. She hated to be burped, and I insisted on trying. everyone else had given up on trying to burp her, but I knew that if I could do it she would drink another ounce.
As I said she hated being burped, and from the moment she was born she would fight it. When I watched other mothers burp their babies they would just lop them over their shoulders, and briskly pat them on the back a few times, and out would pop a huge burp, but when I tried to lop Bebe over my shoulder, she would scream, and cry, and arch her little back, and hold her head up. No, I am not joking. She held her head bolt upright when I would try to hold her over my shoulder.
The things we went through to get her to burp! But I am stubborn, and I always burped her. I would lay her on her stomach across my legs, she would fight it by arching her back, and then that little head of hers would pop up screaming like crazy. I would get so upset thinking to myself,'You are barely one month old! You do not have the strength to lift our head! Stop it!' Anyway, at the time I was a novice at burping, but now after Bebe I have become a master.
It took me about ten minutes to get a nice burp out of her. Then just as I was getting ready to feed her my in-laws arrived. They entered the house, and my mother-in-law announced that it was time to hand over the child. I did, and told her that she needed to eat so I also handed the bottle to her. She put it near her mouth, and Bebe wouldn't open up. She tried once more, and still nothing. Then she put the bottle down, and said, "Kaysie, she isn't hungry right now." Grrrrr. Foiled yet again.
Soon we headed to town. We went out to lunch, and then we learned that my husband's brother and his family had made it, and they were at the mall across the street doing a little shopping. My husband and his parents went to meet them. My mom and I headed back to the house. It was time to feed the baby. We needed to finish cleaning the house, and then we needed to work on the food.
We got the house in order, and then we saw my husband's nieces and nephews appear at the front door. The kids were tired of shopping, so my mother-in-law brought them over to the house to play. It was at this point that everything began to go terribly wrong. Was it a coincidence? Perhaps.
Suddenly there were toys strewn all over the floor, and everyone was running in and out of the house, slamming doors, and screaming. Then another niece was dropped off at our house.
I like to do everything myself, but someone offered to help me by making the cupcakes. I thought to myself just let them help you. It isn't rocket science anyone can make cupcakes. I went into Bebe's room to feed her, and pump. I told everyone to stay out, and only about 5 people walked in on me.
I finished feeding the baby, and put her in her swing. Then I went into my kitchen to find it left in a huge mess. I asked my mother for help on the clean up, then I started making my favorite yet very temperamental frosting for the cupcakes. One of the nieces wanted to help me. I set up the double boiler, and told her not to touch any of the controls.
Then my mother-in-law headed back to town to buy a few things that she had forgotten. As soon as she left the two oldest girls started fighting. I told them all to go outside and play, because by some miracle Bebe had fallen asleep.
The girls were still fighting so stepped out of the kitchen to settle things. I asked what the problem was. Both girls started in at once,"Kaysie she blah, blah, blah....", "but first she blah, blah, blah..." So I said," I don't care who did what. Both of you stop it and get along, go outside and play with the boys. Do not come in until I say to, and be quiet! Bebe is sleeping!"
I went back into the kitchen, and found the youngest girl stirring the frosting so sweetly. Then I noticed that something was wrong. The marshmallows were not melting. The stove had been turned off. Then I realized that the cupcakes were still in the oven the timer had not been set, and they were burning! I quickly pulled the first batch out of the oven. They were a mess. They hadn't even risen! I put the second batch in the oven, and turned the stove back on.
Then suddenly from the living room I heard someone yelling,"Die! Die! Die!" When I walked in the youngest boy was poking my sleeping baby in the stomach with a plastic knife, while screaming at her. I grabbed the knife from him, and told him to stop it. He looked at me with a look of disgust, and said,"I didn't hurt her! I was just poking her with a plastic knife." I said that I knew what he was doing, and told him to go back outside, and play with his brother. He said he didn't know where his brother was. That he had come inside to look for him.
Suddenly it was a man hunt. We looked all over the house. The only place we hadn't looked was in the master bedroom. We walked in and found him digging all of our neatly stacked storage items out from under our bed, and throwing then into a pile in the corner. He was looking for our two cats which we had locked in the master bathroom since we had company. I told both boys to go outside.
Then headed back to the kitchen. Where I found out that he stove and oven had somehow been turned off, yet again. I turned them back on and started cooking. I made sure the timer for the cupcakes was set. Then Bebe started crying, so I went into the other room to feed and change her once again telling the "helping" child not to touch any of the dials.
When I came back in to the kitchen I noticed that the frosting had been turned off again, but I didn't notice that the oven timer had been turned off. We finally got the frosting all melted together. I sat down with the baby for a few minutes to rest. My little kitchen helper had gone back out to play. My mom had somehow put the house back together. We sat in silence for a few minutes.
Then we began to smell something strange coming from the kitchen. It was the second batch of cupcakes. When I realized what it was I ran to the kitchen. As I removed the second batch of smoldering cupcakes from the oven something in my head snapped. A sudden volcanic explosion of profanities erupted from me, just in time for my mother-in-law to witness as she returned from her shopping. I was so angry that I didn't care who heard me.
You might think that this would let people know that I might need a little space,a little quiet, maybe even just a little time alone but no. It was at this point that I was informed that all the kids would be staying at our house for the night. I started saying I didn't have room for five children to stay the night at my house. We had a spare bedroom that my in-laws were staying in,and an air mattress set up in the office for my mother. There was Bebe's room, but I needed access to it for night time feedings, and diaper changes. I explained this. I was told that the kids could just stay on the couches in the living room or the floor. I said that I didn't want a big mess to clean up before church because we were having about thirty people over for lunch. Then my mother feeling bad for me offered to sleep on the couch so that the kids could sleep in the office. She said that she would be up early and pick up her blanket and pillow before anyone else woke up. I thought my mother-in-laws would refuse this,and see that I couldn't have the kids stay, but that was not the case. My mother was thanked for her kindness, and the kids moved their stuff into the office.
Then the door bell rang. It was my brother and his wife. When Bebe saw my brother she gave him a great big smile like she was greeting an old friend. It made everyone in the room get just a little teary, and it felt like my whole family even those who hadn't been with us for a while were there surrounding my beautiful little lady.
I asked my sister-in-law to trim Bebe's wildly out of control baby mullet. My husband had said that I wasn't allowed to cut her hair ever, but I ignored him because what do men know about having girl hair. I didn't care if it was short as long as it was growing evenly, and besides he hadn't been home all day.
We went into Bebe's room. My mom had the video camera, and my brother had my little digital. We began the epic first hair cut, and that is when my husband came home. He was upset. "I guess you want her to look like a little boy," he said. No but I did want her hair to be styled in a cute little pixie cut. My sister-in-law was very careful, just taking off a very fine fuzz, but it looked darling. I showed my husband what we had done, and he said that he couldn't even see anything different.
I went to sleep late that night. My mother and I stayed up to talk a little. It had been a crazy day, and another one was almost visible on the horizon.