The Best Thing to Ever Happen to Me

March 16th. The eve of Madelyn Marjorie's first birthday. We've already celebrated with family and friends at a party suited for an Irish Princess. Tomorrow, while the world dances the Irish Jig, drinks green beer, and sings "Oh Danny Boy," we will also smile and laugh and sing and dance. Because Maddy is the best gift we have ever received.

Dear Maddy,

As I write this, I like to think about where you were exactly one year ago...still cozy in my tummy...and then where you were ten minutes ago, trying to take more than four consecutive steps... on the verge of turning one year old. The day before each birthday is a time to think about the last year before looking forward to the next 365 sunrises and sunsets.

Every night I tuck you in and keep your door open just a wee bit so I am able to peek in and watch you sleep. You sleep so soundly, so peacefully (now!). I have seen millions of your little cells heal. I have heard you sigh and watched you settle in comfortably. I have been blessed to witness the personality of the little life in front of me unfold. You have literally grown before my very eyes... Every night I whisper to you, "You are the best thing to ever happen to me..." I know when your Dad and brother read this they will say, "What about me?" --  but you, Madelyn, are the best thing to happen to ALL of us...

My little Love, you are a miracle. Your mere existence is proof that miracles do happen. Your heart makes us love harder, live deeper, have faith, and laugh. A lot. You have singlehandedly strengthened the bond of our family. You challenge us. You make us believe. And you make us smile. Each and every day. 

While fading from this world before departing for the next, your GeeGee told me that my "next one (baby) wouldn't be so easy..." "A girl?" I asked... "Yes, you'll be more seasoned then..." Undoubtedly, you had crossed paths. Undoubtedly,  she was cluing me in to your early days. Undoubtedly, she sprinkled some of her soul into the stars which brought you to us. Strong. Determined. Beautiful. Funny. Unafraid. That's our Maddy. Undoubtedly ours.

You have a best friend in your brother...with whom you laugh and play and follow and look out for each other. When you cry, he comes running, "Oh no, Mah-dee," and when he cries, you crawl to him to offer comfort. You even sit in timeout with him! You conspire against me, thinking it's so funny to go into your rooms and close the door on me. Which it is, but I won't admit that until you're at least 17. You bring a softness to your father that only a daughter can bring. Although you prefer your share of tickles and gymnastics time on the floor with him. You also bring a smile to your Papa's face that only a little rascal can...it's almost like he is reliving his life from 45 years ago, when he first became a father to a baby girl. And to me, you are my gift straight from Heaven. While your brother healed my heart after I lost my Ma, your GeeGee, YOU have healed my soul. You are my most direct evidence that Heaven does exist. 

In thinking back to when we first found out you'd be joining our family, albeit unexpectedly, we were nervous, excited, and dumbfounded the world could bless us with another baby so soon after the first. And then the doctors warned us...numbers didn't look good; baby may not stick around. But you did. You have fought to be on this earth, a part of this life, this family. You have fought for us and we have fought for you. And we thank God for that each and every day. It's a testament to your personality, Maddy. Just like the Shakespeare quote that adorns your nursery: "Although she be but little, she is fierce" - and those words, my love, could very well have been written about you.

You are our Star of Wonder, Star of Night, Star with Royal Beauty Bright... We love you, Madelyn Marjorie...here's to the love and laughter and joy and beauty the next 365 sunrises and sunsets will bring. Cheers baby girl!

We love you...More.
Mama, Dada and Jimmy

P.S. Brother is very sorry for stealing your thunder during the Happy Birthday Song.

1,000 Days

My hubby and I share a Google combined calendar on our iPhones. For better or worse, richer or poorer, sickness and health... until one forgets to update the freakin' calendar...

I will inevitably say, "I need you to pick up the babies on April 10th..." to which he will respond, "I'm taking a class that day," or "I am working for so-and-so...," or the ever-so-subtle, "Did you put it in the calendar?" (keep in mind folks, the first two responses are NOT routinely inputted in aforementioned calendar!)

"Remember, the Calendar is not the final "final" word... the Calendar is not the Gospel... the Calendar is not updated... the Calendar doesn't make sense... the Calendar is filling up quickly..." and suddenly the Calendar is now a proper noun in the house which dictates our comings and goings. And, in case you were wondering...those quotes weren't coming from me...ha.

On the Calendar, I like to set audio alerts for events. Not only does this irritate, aggravate, and annoy my hubby because they inevitably ping at an inopportune moment but to make matters worse, oftentimes I don't take the moment to double check my alerts for proper timing. More than once, the alarm has gone off at 11:30pm to remind me to watch a segment on the Midday News that day or "Call Doctor" will beep at 2am instead of pm. The Calendar, nor I, seek perfection. 

But today, J had a legitimate question about the calendar. "What does 1,000 days mean?"

To which, I burst into tears.

On March 21st, the Calendar will alert me to the fact that my Ma has left this Earth for the Next Place exactly 1,000 days prior. One. Thousand. Days.  1,000 phone calls. 1,000 hugs. 1,000 "I love yous". 12 seasons. 3 Christmases. 2 grandchildren. Countless moments. Countless tears. Countless laughs and tugs at those heart strings. All missed. 

Maybe it's not normal to keep track of the days. But to me, it helps me live day-to-day in the "New Normal" - that's what Ma used to call Life after a big, changing event. The. New. Normal. And for 1,000 days I have found love and hate in that New Normal. 1,000 times I have sat and wondered how unfair and fickle Life can be sometimes. And for 1,000 times after I remembered Ma always quoting, "Life is what happens while you're making other plans..."

So on that date, March 21st, the Calendar's plan for me is to surround myself with the New Normal. Big Jim, me, Papa, Baby Jimmy and Maddy. All five of us. 

The Calendar will alert me, on that date, to the fact that life goes on, even if you're not ready for it. I guess in a way, keeping track of the days without my Ma may be not about what she has missed but the strength that I have been forced to gain to carry on. So we will plan to celebrate life, together, with 1,000 laughs, 1,000 smiles, 1,000 'I love yous', all for Ma. And maybe 1,000 beers, too.

I don't think she would want it any other way. 

Except for the beer.  Scratch that. 1,000 m&m's...those'll work just fine.