Yo soy La Lay

adventures in family, faith, and Down syndrome

My Beach Body

My Beach Body has stretched to grow three humans.  It has a hefty amount of stretch marks and a tummy that looks kind of like a deflated balloon.  It’s smushy and cozy and not on my list of “immediate concerns.”

At not-quite six weeks post-partum, my Beach Body is ready for the bathing suit I just bought to accommodate a pooch.  It is ready to splash in the pool with my girls and to enjoy a wine spritzer while lounging in an Adirondack chair and reading Rachael Ray magazine.

Next summer, my Beach Body will likely still need that same suit and that is OK.

You see, my Beach Body, which looks nothing like the Beach Body of my early 20s, is healthy and fulfilled.  It enjoys a lean protein and vegetables for lunch and dinner, but also the chocolate that follows once the kids are in bed.  My Beach Body now is not longing to fit the size 4 wedding dress stashed in my daughters’ dress up bin.  It isn’t even reminiscing about all the size 6 pants that I donated when Tessa was born.  It thinks a little about the 8s and 10s that are in the back of the closet, but is comfortable in maternity shorts and size 12 for now.

Twice a week, sometimes more, my Beach Body takes a walk around the neighborhood, all by itself, and truthfully, rocks out to those boy bands from the early 2000s that I still can’t quite get enough of.  It doesn’t go quickly, or break into a jog, but it moves.  It shows my girls that they can take a moment to breathe, to be in solitude, and to step away from the world’s chaos for 30 minutes.

My Beach Body wants my precious girls to know that they can go to a birthday party and enjoy a piece of cake.  It walks those girls to the ice cream stand down the street and does not feel guilty about a chocolate-dipped cone with sprinkles.  It doesn’t need wraps (thanks no thanks, random Facebook acquaintance that I haven’t spoken to in 10 years) or shakes.  It doesn’t believe in cheat days, but in moderation.  It feels balanced.  Chubby and healthy and balanced.

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Dear Baby #1 and #3

Dear Baby #1 and #3,

I must be in a weepy mood this morning.

Perhaps.

Before Ellie and before Tessa, there were you two.  For a few precious weeks, we got to daydream about life with you, to think about who you might be and how fun it would be to have you to love and care for, to watch you grow.

God kept you before we met you and while we couldn’t understand it at the time, we do now.  If we had been sent you, how vastly different might our life be.

The pain of losing you both is eased only in having the grander plan revealed as life moves forward.  It’s really hard to say that I would rather have this baby than that one, but I understand the purpose in the suffering.  I can begin to recognize how each piece is starting to come together to make a far different picture than we imagined – not just because we have Ellie and Tessa, but because we don’t have you.

Little ones, you are loved.  I expect that you are making some others very happy up in Heaven, and that we’ll get to meet you some day.  Thanks for teaching us some lessons that we very much needed.

Hugs and Kisses,

Mom

:):

This is part of the 31 for 21 Blog Challenge – blogging every day for the the 31 days of Down Syndrome Awareness month.  To find out more about the challenge, and to see other blogs participating, click here.

This year’s theme has been inspired by the Down Syndrome Diagnosis Network’s #deardoctor campaign.  To see more #deardoctor letters, visit their Facebook page here.

 

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Dear Blog Readers, Part 1

Dear Blog Readers,

Thanks for understanding that we love to be out and about loving life.  As such, tonight’s post is a short one.  More to come soon.  For now, I’m just happy you are here.

Hugs,

Maggie

A little cuteness to tide you over until tomorrow…




 

This is part of the 31 for 21 Blog Challenge – blogging every day for the the 31 days of Down Syndrome Awareness month.  To find out more about the challenge, and to see other blogs participating, click here.

This year’s theme has been inspired by the Down Syndrome Diagnosis Network’s #deardoctor campaign.  To see more #deardoctor letters, visit their Facebook page here.

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Home again, home again.

I’m soaking in the last few minutes of solitude.  Through a series of events, it happened that I ended up checked in for my flight and at the gate about three hours early.  And it’s good.  Good people watching, good decompressing, good reflection.

It was such a great weekend.  I’m tired and ready to come home to my loves, but wow.  This trip was exactly what I needed.

Texas is big and flat and though I barely saw anything while I was here, it’s now officially on my list of places that I actually do want to visit.  I don’t think I met an unkind person while I was here.  I didn’t venture off the hotel property much, but enough to feel welcome and loved on by all the Texans I met.

I didn’t come to this retreat with any burning questions, but I have left with answers to questions I didn’t even know I had.

It’s amazing how quickly the awkward “I know you online but who are you?” faded into easy conversation with what felt like old friends.  Wine helped with that, but so did the feeling that these women, they are my people, my tribe.  There were laughs and wows! and ‘hey, I totally get you’ moments… Kleenex boxes at the tables wiped away good, cleansing tears and we just enjoyed each other for 48 hours.  

I’m excited to come home.  I’m tired, but refreshed.  I’m reflective, but forward-thinking.  I’m ready to put my nose to the ground and do the work.

So, so good.


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Cruel and Unusual Punishment

Do you know what is the worst experience ever post-baby? I bet you do!

Bathing suit shopping.

Ugh.

You know, I bounced back fairly well after Ellie was born, but pregnancy with Tessa really did a number on me… not to mention the hours spent hunched over a Boppy pillow feeding her in the sidelying position.

Wide hips, huge feet, stretch marks, worse eyesight, terrible posture, hunched shoulders… It’s not even the weight so much as the complete alteration of my entire shape.

OK, I’m done.

I know, I know, 9 months on, at least 9 months off, you grew a human, stretch marks remind us of the miracle of life that grew in our belly, blah blah blah, yadda yadda. I’m not there yet.

But last weekend, the pool looked so inviting and fun. And I want to be the one having fun rather than watching the fun. So bathing suit shopping happened. And now I have to suck it up… and suck it in… and remind myself that she was worth it. They were worth it.

(and so were the control-top bathing suit bottoms that cost double the price of the regular kind. Just sayin’.)

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