Three years.
It’s hard to imagine that three years has passed since Reagan and Isabella joined our family. Jennifer, our friend and their gestational carrier, joined our family for a celebration last night and she asked me if I though time was passing quickly.
“They just seem so grown up.”
And they are.
No longer babies, these two little ladies are really starting to show us who they are. To me that’s one of the greatest gifts of parenthood. Our children are not ours to mold and shape. They certainly aren’t extensions of ourselves. As parents, Sean and I can’t decide whether Reagan will be a ballerina or a basketball player or whether Isabella will be a tomboy or the most feminine girly-girl on the block. Of course, we have influence on what our children are introduced to but once the introduction is made, it truly is our job to observe and let the child show us who they are.
Their big third birthday present was a bounce house. Ryan gave it a life span of five months. We tend to be hard on our play gear.
It’s a privelege to watch them unfold.
At three, Reagan is feisty. She knows what she wants and she protests when we don’t follow her path. It appears that she enjoys performing. Yesterday I took all three girls school supply shopping. As we neared the cash registers she spotted an end cap with ballet gear. I haven’t the slightest clue how she knew what the pink shoes and leotard were for, but she scrambled out of the cart and snagged a pair for herself and refused to put them back.
She’s telling me something.
I think we are going to try an age appropriate dance class for her.
Isabella is extremely verbal. Her ability to articulate at such a young age surprised Sean and I. At birth, in spite of her full-term status, Isabella was intubated and hospitalized for ten days due to breathing difficulties. Both of us worried about the oxygen deprivation she experienced and wondered whether there would be long lasting impacts. She was a late walker and her feeding and eating habits could be characterized as challenging, but other than that it appears she is developing normally. She is very friendly, one of our more outgoing children, with a happy, easy-going demeanor. And the girl can talk even the chattiest person right under the table.
The two of them together are a trip. They play with one another like most siblings; one minute they’re “best friends”; the next they are mortal enemies. They take turns being the alpha, and for every like they share, there are two they don’t. Reagan’s a screamer. Isabella’s a crier. Reagan’s shy at first. Isabella is quick to warm. They both like walking around in click-clack shoes and playing with their hot wheels cars.
They are individuals. It’s my job to respect them.
So, instead of molding them into my vision of what I think they should be, I’m enjoying the reveal. I’m certainly not passive in my parenting approach. I’m more of a coach. I cheer for them but I’m not a blind fan. I provide support, guidance and boundaries that will–hopefully–teach them to be kind, confident and responsible. Some moments it seems like it’s all working. Other moments it doesn’t. None of it’s perfect. But in a way, I think that’s good.
Our imperfect world is full of imperfect people. That’s an important lesson to learn.
We had a small family party with their god parents, Jennifer and Grandma Kate.
Last night, after everyone else was in bed, Jennifer and I stayed up talking. We both decided time is, indeed, passing quickly. We reminisced about her pregnancy with Reagan and Isabella. How big she was. How much she sacrificed for our family. We also talked about gratitude. For Sean and I, it’s an undying gratitude to her for the gift of our daughters. We are both convinced they wouldn’t be with us if it wasn’t for her.
Jennifer with the girls in 2013.
Jennifer and girls circa 2014.
For Jennifer it was about how thankful she is that she gets to visit with them. “It’s nice to see what I did.”
I get that–at very profound level.
Blowing out their candles.
Sean and I are so lucky. We have five–going on six–amazing kids to shepherd. They challenge us. They push us. They teach us. And in return, we love them for it. For all of it.
*****
I know. This post is an about face from Monday afternoon’s post. Sean and I talked about the spirit of Monday’s post and we laughed. We figure anyone who advises an expectant mother to “enjoy every single second of parenthood” probably doesn’t have a child at home under the age of 18.
That being said, we had a birthday here this week. Our girls are growing up. So pardon the my sentimentalism (Yes, that’s a real word. I looked it up).
Happy Thursday.