It is late tonight, and it has been a crazy week preparing for the approaching Spring season. Grafting, planting, transplanting and so on and so forth. I should probably go to bed, but I cannot, because tomorrow is a very special day, and I owe someone very special a blog.
She is probably falling fast asleep right now beside her sister, in the bottom bunk of their bunk beds. Her mom has probably also fallen asleep by now on the floor beside those bunk beds, because she prefers and demands that as many people as possible fall asleep with her. She is a little demanding, I guess, but I chalk that up to the terrible twos she is just about to grow out of (I hope!). If she were old enough to know I was writing blogs and that her sister got a blog for her birthday, I am sure she would demand one for herself. And with her dad wrapped around her little finger, what else am I supposed to do?
Three years ago tomorrow Mhaira Nicole, who up to that point was know as “little peanut”, was born in the same hospital in Richmond, Indiana as her older sister Elly. The doctors, knowing that Elly had gone two weeks past her due date, decided that it was just as well that Catherine be induced early with Mhaira. I had my hesitations about tampering with the the natural course of things, but Catherine was more than ready! So early on the morning of March 27th, 2015 Catherine and I drove to the hospital, while Elly stayed at home with her Abuela Omaira who had flown up from Colombia for the birth of our second daughter, Mhaira.
Settling into that hospital room brought back a lot of special memories from nearly a year and half earlier when we had gone in for Elly to be born. This time we were a little more prepared, maybe, but the excitement was just as real and the moment just as special. In many ways it was a lot like the last time. Catherine was induced and within two or three hours Mhaira was showing no desire to remain in the womb. Two or three pushes later and there she was at approximately 1:20 pm on a bright and sunny Friday in March. She was smaller than Elly had been, 50th percentile as opposed to 80th for her length and weight, and upon first glance we could not exactly identify whose resemblance she bore. As my mom would say, she really was “the best of both of us”, with my nose (and hair as it would turn out, once she finally grew some) and Catherine's ears and eyes for certain. She was most definitely perfect though, and the feeling we had welcoming another tiny little person into our world and our family was something indescribable.
Shortly afterwards, some close family friends brought Catherine's mom and Elly to the hospital to meet the newest member of the family. Catherine's Mom, Omaira, was of course ecstatic – after all Mhaira's name was borrowed from hers, just drop the “o” and also throw in an “h”, because we like to make things difficult. Actually there was a little more reason behind that, but it is difficult nevertheless. You have to also replace the “a” at the end with an “i”, and you get the nickname I wanted for her, Mhairi, which honors her Scottish heritage along with the blessed Mother of Jesus, as Mhairi is Gaelic for Mary. But yes, above all else – it is difficult.
Elly was also very excited to meet her little sister, though a little confused as I remember her walking in the room and her jaw dropping to the floor, like “What has happened here?!” I think it was a combination of minor concern for her mother and major excitement over the real life baby doll mom was holding. She did not know they made those! They do not. Only mom could do that and she had done a pretty darn good job, and together we celebrated for a couple of hours before everyone went home, and Catherine and I packed it in with little Mhairi for a one night hospital stay.
Mhaira was born a sleepy little girl. During that first night in the hospital room we both remember our feeling of confidence, this being our second go round, a little shaken when Catherine could not get Mhaira to nurse. All she wanted to do was sleep. It was another anxious night, but somewhere along the way Mhaira finally found her appetite, which she would never lose, and by the next morning all was well and we were given the green light to return to home for the second time with new life and growing joy.
The three years that have passed between that day and this seem as though they could be measured by the blink of an eye. Trying to grasp those passing days is like trying to catch the rain in your open hands, it hits your skin and you feel it, but in that same short moment it is gone. And I know time does not change, but everything has gone faster with Mhaira, probably because she has been trying to keep up with Elly at every step. If Elly can walk, then Mhaira had to walk. If Elly could run, then Mhaira had to run. If Elly could jump off the couch, then Mhaira had to jump off the couch. If Elly could push, pull and pound Mhaira, then Mhaira had to push, pull and pound Elly, and when it came to that Mhaira could do it better! Yet at every step she maintained herself as an individual all her own - completely and utterly and crazily all her own.
One of the first unique things I remember that was different about Mhaira was that she did not like her car seat – AT ALL. From day one, Elly would fall asleep immediately in the car. That was not the case with Mhaira, and those long trips back and forth between Richmond and Fort Wayne were a completely new experience with the screaming and crying that came from the backseat, which would last almost as long as the trip itself. Many times we would practically be arriving by the time Mhaira would calmly, quietly and finally fall asleep. To this day there are times I feel like I am wrestling and alligator (something I have never actually done) just to get that strong and squirming body down into the seat and beneath the straps. I know it is just a sign of her character, of her strength, of her persistence, and so I try not to let it bother me to much when sometimes I feel like I am not going to win a “battle”. I just take solace in knowing that when she comes against more important battles in the life ahead of her, she is not likely to lose.
As Mhaira continued to grow we discovered another of her beautiful characteristics, and that is her adorable goofiness. I honestly do not even know where she comes up with half of the silly things she does, but she loves to ham it up and put on a show. From the faces she makes, to the voices she uses, to the strange laughter she creates, and one of my favorites lately, her self taught ability to burp. None of the rest of us can burp on command, and yet somewhere, somehow she apparently picked up the trick. She is indeed a little bit of a wild child, but we are thankful for the entertainment as long as it does not wind up at the hospital (like it did with her about 3-4 times this past year).
Another one of my favorite things about Mhaira is her extreme expressiveness. I will never forget the first time we watched a movie at home with her. It was Dr. Suess's Horton Hears a Who, and from the opening credits Mhaira was exaggeratedly “oohing” and “awing”, wide eyed and apparently astonished by the cinematographic genius that was witnessing. It was hilarious, and thankfully we have it on video. It is really something to watch the way she speaks with her eyes, hands, arms and hips when addressed by someone. She is a living, breathing, walking work of art.
I just cannot believe it has been three years now that this little ball of fire has been igniting our hearts and lighting up our lives. Already in preschool, already in dance class, already grown from an itty bitty baby to our big girl who is accomplishing so much each day. I know the days, the months and the years are not going to go any slower as she continues to grow, and soon our little ballerina will be jumping and twirling circles around us showing off newer things she has learned. Our little preschooler will be mastering all kinds of new concepts and truths. Our little expressionist will find new forums to share her soul with the world. And I will look forward to us getting our hands dirty together in the greenhouse, as I can already picture Mhaira helping me pot up the annual Geranium “trees”, hanging baskets, tomatoes and peppers, and so on and so forth. For now, my little Mhairi, I hope you have the best of birthdays, and I hope you always know how much Mommy and Daddy love you!
