It’s been too long since I’ve blogged, but life has been so boring. Just kidding, it’s never boring.
You may have read on Facebook that Mia had an echocardiogram last week. The results were fantastic. The hole in Mia’s heart (VSD) is smaller than when she was a newborn and isn’t causing any damage to her heart, so the doctor put her back on a “monitoring” schedule. That means she’ll have an echo next year and we’ll look again.
Nate said something that summed up how we’ve both been feeling about the heart questions, “I had no idea how stressed I was about this until it was over.” It occurred to me after our doctor said she’s fine that I felt a year of tears well up behind my eyes. I held it together, just barely.
We also looked at a private school in our little east side neighborhood for Fynn. The school doesn’t have many spaces left, so we’re hoping he’ll make it. I have a bit of anxiety about sending Fynn to school. I made a decision to keep him home instead of preschool because I was home and I wanted him to be here with me for as long as possible – just to enjoy our time before we have strict schedules and school and the “just us” time ends. It’s been amazing, but I know he’s ready to venture out. We started Sunday school with him this year and he’s so excited to be there with friends and teachers. He enjoys it so much. My little extrovert wants to “play with all the kids.”
This little school might be a good place for Mia to start out as well. I’m not ready to broach that subject yet. I’m trying to think one step at a time.
It’s almost the New Year. I’m ready to put 2013 behind me. It’s hard to explain what I feel about last year. It was good, sad, intense, joyous, difficult, surprising, tumultuous, and exciting all at the same time. I have happy and not so happy memories. What I do have are two beautiful children, a loving husband, an amazing family, fun and supportive friends, and a beautiful, messy, complicated, and happy life.
“For last year’s words belong to last year’s language
And next year’s words await another voice.”
― T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets