Tomorrow morning Ira and Roman will wake up as one year olds!

I am mesmerized by them. Everything they do is normal yet everything they do surprises me, delights me, and moves me to a love so deep sometimes I wonder how my body doesn't just burst apart in a spectacular show of fireworks and glitter. I spend my days at home fumbling at my phone to get a picture of the most amazing new skills they have learned or adorable thing they are doing. And then I spend my evenings yelling at John to, "LOOK! QUICK! LOOK! LOOK AT THEM!"

I Skype my parents in the evenings and relive the adorable moments of the day. I could likely bore the paint on your wall by gushing about how Roman tried to crawl OVER Ira to get to a toy. Right over him! Didn't even stop. Just plowed right through! Oh, delightful little boy.

I love them with a stupid love. A love that needs no reason, has no limit, requires no explanation, and cannot be understood.

A mother's love.

A love that wakes at night to quiet cries, that wipes banana off faces, floors, and small hands every morning, that cuts every grape into quarters, that wrestles over impossibly squirmy diaper changes every 3 hours, that kisses bumps on heads, wipes bums and runny noses all day long, and makes peanut butter toast with one hand and cuddles a fussy baby in another.

This love must be divine for the way it motivates even my weariest self to keep going, keep plugging on through the mundane tasks of every day, day after day.

This year has been the most mundane, the simplest, the most tedious, draining, exhausting, boring year of my life. And also the most magical, exhilarating, inspiring, interesting, incredible, most fulfilling, exciting and delightful one too.

I follow another mom of multiples on Facebook and on the occasion of her babies' first birthday she described her year as like having "front row seats" to an amazing work of God.


I believe have had a front row seat to a miraculous work of our Father.

To think all the things that had to happen to bring our boys into our family- the twins and Arie too- how much brokenness had to be redeemed, how many details had to fall in exactly the right place. It boggles the mind. When I look at all three of my boys I am silenced in awe to think how all at once they are not where they were supposed to be yet exactly where they are supposed to be. This is what it means to be redeemed, isn't it? A brokenness that gets put together in a new and more glorious way.

I am the one redeemed, most of all. Once lonely and longing I now have three beautiful boys to call my own. Arie made me a mother and Ira and Roman fulfilled my desires to live out the experience of pregnancy, birth, and babyhood. I longed to know everything about those stages from the kicks inside to the slip of a baby from womb to arms, to know the gaze of a nursling at my breast, to feel the perfect weight and rhythmic breathing of a small body sleeping on mine...

I have known them all, two-fold.

This year has been a gift. I have been given a bank of memories with my babies, the full experience of newborn and baby life. I know the flood of emotion that comes with your baby's first smile and the burst of pride when he finally figures out how to coordinate a crawl. I will have the music of baby laughter ringing in my memory until I am old and gray.

I am filled.

I did it.

The pregnancy.
The birth.
The sleepless nights.
The endless days.
The sweet smell of baby breath.
The perfect sight of a baby body in the bath.
The oatmeal in their hair. And ears.
The standing up YAY.
The falling down OH NO!
The "don't pull the cat's tail!"
The slobbery kisses.
The fetching a stuck baby who crawled under the couch.
The early mornings.
The late nights.
The blow out diapers on a road trip.
The "don't put that in your mouth!"
The dressing them up: how adorable!
The undressing them for bath: even more so.
The standing over the crib just to watch them sleep.
The wishing the day would end faster and then missing them when they went to bed.

I've done it all.

I am filled and thankful.

I can't know if I enjoy my children more than others do because it was such a hard journey to bring them into our family. But I do know that I enjoy them more than I would have if they had come easily to me. I feel all the emotions like a normal mom from the boredom to the delight to the frustration to the pride. But I don't take them for granted. They are a privilege that will never be lost on me.

Happy birthday Ira and Roman. To be your mama is my joy. I open my arms and my heart to the future. Let's start this next adventure: year two.

Some details on each of the twins:


Ira is a smiley, happy little baby boy with a love for music and a hilarious shoulder and bum shimmy to prove it. He has a wonderful full body laugh and an equal yet opposite wail when his emotions go in the other direction. He is the more sensitive of the two babies and the one who is not yet sleeping through the night (although he used to the better sleeper of the two! They keep us guessing those two!).

Ira's favorite foods are crackers and rice. A carb guy! His favorite toy is the jack-in-the-box and when he sees us pull it out he starts pretending to be surprised with a quick yelp and pump of his fists. It's like he's trying to tell us, "Do the thing where it jumps out!"

Ira babbles constantly. He loves to talk! When John comes home from work Ira launches into a big long "story" about his day. It melts our hearts! At night we sometimes hear him babbling to his lovey which is so precious. He is a very social little baby and a true joy to have in our home!

Ira is able to crawl anywhere he wants to go, however he is not too busy yet. He prefers to find a toy and sit with it, quietly investigating all its ins-and-outs. He makes the cutest expressions as he investigates and figures out how things work and what they can do. We love his sense of curiosity and know it will serve him well as he grows!


Roman is pretty much constantly on the move these days! He is very quick at crawling- often to chase our cat Jasper- and practices standing a lot. He pulls up on furniture and them lets go with a look of beaming pride on his face. We expect it won't be long before he starts walking! He is mostly sleeping through the night.

Roman's favorite foods are everything. He eats pretty much whatever we put in front of him! The first thing he outright refused to eat was the cupcake we offered him at his first birthday party! Omi snuck a lick of frosting in his mouth to entice him and he shuddered at the taste of it. That's okay Roman, you'll have plenty of time to enjoy those later in life!

Roman's favorite toys are the remotes for the TV, mom's phone, and a play computer we have. He loves anything with buttons it seems!

Roman is a bruiser and thinks nothing of bopping his smaller brother on the head or chomping on his butt (yet his butt!) in the bath. He is a strong little baby, a big baby, and we think he is going to be athletic by the way he loves to use his body and learn new skills. He has a few words already (mama, dada, kitty, night night) and loves to imitate sounds he hears like a siren going by our house or the cat meowing. He seems to understand way more than he is able to do or express which often makes him frustrated. Hopefully his frustration will encourage him to keep developing new skills!


To celebrate Ira and Roman's first birthday we had a small party with our parents and two families of friends. I chose a "wild one" theme (in anticipation of our toddler years ahead) and we had a fantastic celebration! The weather surprised us with unseasonably warm temperatures and after an Easter egg hunt for the older kids we were able to sit outside together. A treat for us Michiganders in April! I'll leave you with some pictures:

Happy birthday Ira and Roman! 



Twins' 11 month update

We've passed the 11 month mark and suddenly I'm staring my babies' first birthday in the face.


Watching your children grow can feel like a constant bargaining between grief and joy. It's always saying goodbye in one breath and hello in another, crawling slowly past the excruciating parts while clawing at the incredible ones and trying desperately not to let them slip away so fast.

It's happy and sad.

It's some relief and some regret.

It's looking forward and back, back and forward... it's both.

It's both.

It's both.

"Maturing" feels like a strange word to use to describe a baby- or two- but it's what I see happening in my Ira and my Roman. They are coming more alive, awakening to the world in new ways, dying to their baby selves and rising on the steps of toddlerhood.

It's happening so fast.

Like maybe yesterday? They were newborns when I ran to the basement to grab a roll of paper towel and by the time I got back upstairs they were nearly one!

They were so tiny and helpless and now suddenly they are big and they can move and sort-of feed themselves and pull up on the toy box and even make me laugh on purpose.

This is probably the best sword-to-the-heart of the last month: their sense of humor has exploded! They do things to be funny. On purpose. Tiny babies can laugh and be pleased but they can't be funny on purpose. But Ira and Roman can, now. Ooh. That cuts me! This is such a mature thing for them to do: to be funny! To growl and watch for my smile. To bop me on the nose with a ball and giggle. To look me in the eye and grin while throwing pieces of banana to the floor just to hear me smile and warmly scold, "No, no, you stinker!"

You babies!

Wasn't I just minutes ago gasping in delight at your first fleeting smiles?

Wasn't that just this morning? And now at dinner you pump your tiny first and scream as loud as you can before dissolving into giggles when I jump in feigned terror at the sound of you.

It wasn't this morning, wasn't hours ago, though.

It's been nearly a year.

Nearly a year.

You are nearly a year.


Let's not be too wistful about the passage of time.

We survived things I'm not hungry to repeat. The 10 days of you in Special Care after your birth. 10 days with my longing to bring you home. I'm glad beyond all gladness that you are home with me now. The early struggles we had nursing: the pain, the worry, the constant feeding, the lip and tongue ties, those awful stretches, the long, long, long minutes you spent crying while I pumped milk for you and bounced you in your bouncing chairs with my feet failing to soothe you. The witching hours, the long day-hours, and the night hours when I barely survived my exhaustion.

We made it though that and we are all enjoying our present days so much more. You are almost sleeping through the night now! In fact, you sometimes do! And one of these days, you will both sleep through the night... and so will I.


Our future days are bright and future nights, brighter still.

We have so much more to look forward to!

I can't wait for the beach this summer: to watch you play in the water and sand. I can't wait to see you take your first steps, to listen to your small voices as you learn to speak, and to push you on the swings at the park. In less than a month I can't wait to watch you eat your birthday cake! I look forward to giving you honey on toast, to moving down to only one nap, to holding your hands as you toddle along. This weekend we switched you out of infant carseats to convertible ones and while I whimpered a little inside, remembering how excited I was when we put those in our minivan for the first time anticipating your arrival, I'm also relieved to be done lugging you in those heavy things!

Sad and happy.

Some regret, some relief.

Looking back but also looking forward.

Goodbye and hello: it's both.

It's both.

It's both.

Wistful at times, but now and always: how I love to watch you grow.

11 months old!

Nearly one.




What to focus on

My sister is a professional photographer in Ontario, Canada and while she grew her business largely on wedding shoots, lately she has been doing a lot more lifestyle photography, especially working to grow her portfolio with newborn shoots. I've been watching her instagram feed and getting inspired. I started to think about taking pictures of my boys the way she does with her clients: pictures that are beautifully styled, clean, soft, precious.

So I pulled out my camera one day when the sun was mostly out (a rare thing here in Michigan in February!) and the lighting was nice in our home. Initially looking through my lens the scene did not look great. It looked cluttered. Mostly because the room was cluttered. Coincidentally I was in the same room where my sister, a year before, had taken some of my maternity pictures. I started thinking about what she did to make my pictures look so nice. Where did she stand? How did she hold the angle? How did she style the scene?

Then I remembered helping her push all the crap in the room to one side so it would be out of the picture. I got up and moved a few things, moved the babies closer to the nice window light, and tried a few different angles.

I was delighted by the images on my viewfinder now!

I carried on like that over the next few hours, choosing my favorite parts of the day, pushing all the crap in each scene aside and capturing a lovely photo, a beautiful memory.

I know some people think that it's "fake" when we style pictures like this, without all the normal household crap- broken toys, three rolls of duct tape, a dead plant, the mountainous laundry pile waiting to be folded, the spray bottle of windex and crumpled up paper towel beside it- is hidden from the shot. (These are all real things I moved out of the way when I was taking these pictures.)

But I actually think these "cleaned up" photos are truer to life in that they are more like our real memories.

Even now when I think back to my earliest days of parenting after bringing our son Arie home from Russia, I remember watching him crawl under our table to pet our cat, the way his eye lashes stuck together in the bath, the long sluuuuurping noise he made when he ate his soup. My memories are focused on the important parts. I guarantee when he was under the table, there were piles of something or another on top. When he was in the bath I had one clean pair of pajamas in hand and four others crumpled up in our yet-to-be-emptied suitcase somewhere else in the house. As he slurped his soup I'm sure we had a pile of dishes in the sink, spills on the counter, and burned on spills on our stove.
I know the ratio of twins to Arie photos here is lacking.
Arie is 1) at school all day and
2) so OVER Mom taking his picture all the time. ;-) 

I'm making an educated guess at those background details because only four years later I don't remember any of them.

It's kind of freeing to think about life this way. There's a metaphor in there somewhere: there will always be crap. Don't be afraid to push it out of the way to make a memory. The crap is not what matters in the frame. Its the people.

Those precious, darling people.

Focus on them.

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