When I held Cody for the first time, the love I felt for this scrawny, red baby, whose massive head took up the majority of the 7 lbs., 8 oz., he weighed, staggered me. I didn’t know love could come so sharply, complete rapture at its heels. I took him home and spent long minutes staring at him, not quite able to believe he was mine. I never really thought I’d have a son since girls are so prominent in my family. Having just one baby after twins allowed me to connect with him much more quickly than I had with his sisters and the bond was so strong, I thought it might consume me.

The first time his little limbs jerked unmercifully, I knew what was happening. He was just seven months old and my heart screamed. My perfect baby boy would now have to go through all the unpleasant tests his sister did, most likely begin medication, and gone would be the dreamy attachment I had to him. Jolted out of my infatuation, I grieved for the loss of the child I thought he would be. The future was unsure – would he be able to play sports? Drive? Would he grow out of it?

His seizures were harder to control than his sister’s ever had been and he had far more of them. It took several combinations of medication before we found the right one to stop the spasms. Now, four years later, he sits by me, content, seizure- and medication-free, pointing at pictures as he recounts the story in the book. Occasionally he looks up to see if I’m still listening. I wonder if he sees the adoration in my eyes.

As I tuck him in to bed, it strikes me that he is just who he needs to be; perhaps not the boy I had pictured when he was a baby, but something altogether more precious and endearing. Whether or not he gets to play sports or drive is inconsequential; having the pleasure of watching his unique personality emerge is one of the greatest privileges in my life. I imagine that someday he’ll look into the same bottomless blue eyes of his own child and see the shroud of expectations he has fabricated for him or her fall into shreds, and then he too will know what it is to love completely, with no reserve.

How do you show your kids you love them?

I feel a thrill of pride at his adorableness. His soft, rosy red cheeks haven’t quite lost their baby plumpness and his enormous, long-lashed blue eyes turn me to mush no matter how furious I am with him. I adore the way he looks off into the distance when I’m talking to him, like he’s pondering what I’m saying, as if the answers to everything might be found in the air nearby. Those eyes will be a powerful tool for him when he figures out how to use them.

This time before bed is just a few minutes of my entire life, of his entire life, and I think of him full-grown someday. I feel torn by the love I have for this little boy who will someday be bigger than me. As much as I am looking forward to watching him grow up, I’m dreading it too. I know I will long for my baby boy, my baby who at 5 still cries whenever I leave, insists that I tuck him in every night, gives me Eskimo kisses as he giggles, tells me I’m a princess.

What will he turn out to be, this little boy who tells tall tales to keep up with his sisters’ school stories; looks out for his younger brother while at the same time taking his toys away; informs me that he was “a naughty boy” because he didn’t listen to his sisters on the school bus; cries, “I want to be a nice boy!” when he gets in trouble. He makes sophisticated declarations – “I put it in here for safekeeping,” and “It looks so handsome!” — and often surprises us with his expansive vocabulary. Imaginative, articulate and bright, his forte clearly doesn’t lie in the physical realm. He will be a designer, an artist, a musician, or maybe a writer, like me.

Exercise: List the 10 things you love the most about each child. Save it. Add to it as they get older. It will be extremely meaningful to you in the future.

I’m a freelance writer and the mom of 9-year-old twin girls, a 5-year-old boy, and a nearly-4-year-old boy. We live in a big old farm house in the middle of nowhere with two dogs, two horses and two cats, homework, extra-curricular activities, preschool, a large yard and garden and the juggling of three (at-home) part-time jobs. To say life is crazy would be spot on.

I recently decided that instead of just watching other people become known as parenting experts, I’d do better to start getting my name out there too. After all, no one ever accomplished anything by simply watching and wishing. We’ve been through epilepsy, febrile seizures, depression, allergies, asthma, food intolerance, hernias, chronic sinus infections, accidental poisoning and a host of other ailments that tend to run through every household. Though we’ve never had a major health crisis, we’ve had a few scares over the years.

As with all kids, mine can come up with the most hilarious comments and observations, particularly my 5-year-old, who possesses a vocabulary that surprises me almost daily. Tips, news, advice and parenting updates will all be available here, plus I’m happy to answer any questions you want to throw at me. If I don’t know the answer, I’ll find it. I’ll tell you stories that will make you smile, some that you’ll think you could have written yourself, you can relate to them so much, and maybe even a few that will make your eyes blurry (from tears, that is).

This parenting journey is filled with twists into the unknown, turns that slam you up against a concrete door, happiness beyond what you ever could have imagined existed, pain over situations you can’t control and above all, continual learning by trial and error. It’s heartwrenching, consuming, scary, lonely, amazing, frustrating and uplifting all at the same time. And no expert or book can tell you exactly what you should do. You know your kids better than anyone else, so it’s up to you to pick and choose the elements of good advice that help you be the best parent you can be. I’d like to help you create your own brand of parenting and remind you that you’re not alone on your own journey. 

I hope you enjoy reading this blog as much as I know I will enjoy writing it.

Stop by again soon!

Sarah