Nolan: 2011 Christmas Letter

Dear Nolan,

What an amazing year this has been for you. To watch your three year old spirit burst with excitement in whatever you do has to be the biggest joy in my life as a parent. I am intoxicated by the pure happiness in your soul. My greatest hope is that you never lose that zeal for your passions in life.

Not a day goes by that you don’t make me smile. You have a great ability to be empathetic to others, sensing when they are sad or hurt. Often I see you bring hugs to others. You share your toys or do something silly, just to cause someone to laugh. You go out of your way to deliver happiness.

I remember being very sick and upset one day at home. I was stressed and anxious from a hard day and fatigued from anguish. I remember crying out in a mess of hot stuffy tears and you ran to me, wrapping your tiny arms and squeezing my legs in the biggest bear hug that a 23 pound child could muster. You leaned in close on my chest and laid your head on shoulder, melting those problems away.

Another time when we were visiting your papaw and mamaw in Virginia papaw was very sick with Lyme disease. Sulking into the chair in the living room you crawled up in his lap and laid there with him, willing him as best you could to feel better.

You look for opportunities to engage with other people. Needless to say, you are VERY friendly. You see past appearances to greet those eyes around you. It’s as if you don’t see color, age, or status, but just the person in front of you. From beggars to celebrities, all people are equal to you. I know many grown adults could learn from you, sometimes even me.

Your favorite person in the whole world is your papaw, my father. Nothing makes you happier than to talk to him on the phone or over Skype. The two of you are best buddies, playing games, wrestling, going fishing, roasting hot dogs, making smores, you just love your papaw. It warms my heart to see that relationship grow. You guys get to do all of the fun stuff that I did with him when I was a kid. How cool is that?! My favorite picture that I have is of the two of you, walking hand in hand along the road. Papaw loves you very much, Nolan.

During the summer months you and I had a special ritual every evening, our nightly walks. Sometimes we would just take a short walk around the block, enjoying the warm night air, pointing out cars, looking at the stars, making up silly songs, and racing. Sometimes looking forward to those walks at night would be the only thing getting me through a tough day at work. Sometimes it’s hard for mama to have to work. I am thankful that we still get time in the evening to hang out and spend time together.

In August you turned three. While your strong willed spirit is prone to challenge authority occasionally, it’s been a joy to see how you have matured and your sweet disposition shine. I’m not going to sugar coat and say that it always been easy to parent you, but it’s a part of our story that I wouldn’t trade for anything. The terrible twos may have lived up to their name, but three, three is awesome.

Nolan, I look forward to this next year in 2012 and what it has in store for us. Our family would not be where we are today without you in it, and we have so much to look forward to because of you. It is with great hope that I am thrilled about seeing you develop into a young man over this next year. You have an amazing zeal for worship and prayer. Your daddy and I are gearing up to guide you in your relationship with Jesus Christ. I hope you that you never give up on that.

It’s my prayer for you that you’ll remain independent and strong in your way. I hope you always pursue what makes you happy, listening to your heart and staying true to who you are. You are capable of so much, and with your unstoppable character and tremendous charisma, there is nothing, absolutely nothing that can stand in your way. Know that your daddy and I will always be behind you cheering for you.

You’ve made my world so much brighter, wider, better. I am who I am because I am your mother. YOU made me a mother. You and your sister are my whole heart.

I love you.

Momma

her birth

***Leah Alexandra Ritz was born at 2:47pm on December 15, 2010. Weighing 6lb. 7oz. and was 18.5 inches long***

She came into this world with the most beautiful and petite cry that I have ever heard. After an agonizing wait for her to emerge in the doctor's arms I felt her gentle spirit well up inside of me at the sound of her voice. I had waited so long for her that the transition into becoming her mommy felt so easy and real and natural.

I always saw myself as a mom to a daughter. I had a deep wrought desire in my soul to raise a girl. I have always said that my son Nolan is my heart, but my soul was held for a baby girl. My life could not be more perfect otherwise, I have a wonderful husband and an AH-MAZING son but we knew that our family just wasn't complete just yet. We felt the stir of a desire for a second child soon after Nolan turned one. The timing felt right and our hearts were open to parenting another precious babe. I learned that I was pregnant four days after my 27th birthday. We shared so much joy and excitement and LOVE, overabundance of absolute LOVE for this child that I carried in my belly.

At the anatomy scan Brian and I watched our baby flip and dance on the monitor showing off every angle for the camera (which if you know Leah, you know that she's a natural). I just knew as I gazed at that child that I was carrying a girl, our girl child, but I kept it to myself until my family joined us for the big reveal. I held my breath as the ultrasound technician adjusted and prepared to announce the gender... A GIRL. I audibly gasped and tears gathered in my eyes, I couldn't look away from her though. I watched her as long as the technician took measurements.

I had an emergency c-section with our son, and for planning and safety concerns we opted to schedule a second c-section for Leah. The day, December 15th grew closer as the days got shorter and the weather grew colder. Christmas and the excitement of the holidays filled the air, it was the perfect season to have a baby. My parents arrived in from a blustery snow storm in Virginia the day before to help watch Nolan while we recovered in the hospital.

The night before her birth we visited the Italian Inn and enjoyed generous plates of pasta and slow dances. One of the endearing things about the Italian Inn is all of the signatures and love notes written on the walls and surfaces of the restaurant. We left a little note of our own to mark this occasion. With our bellies full we went home to rest and pack up the car for our four day stay. I don't remember sleeping that night, hardly able to keep my excitement to myself. We woke up early the next morning and hung out at the house since we didn't need to be at the hospital until around noon. I tried to pass the time by watching cartoons with Nolan, coloring in pages, and checking my list one last time. We went for a walk outside, one of my favorite memories as a family of three (plus mamaw and papaw). Then the time came for us to leave.

I stopped at Target on my way to the hospital and bought a copy of Despicable Me for Nolan to watch with my parents while we were gone. I remember hobbling down the aisle anxious to tell everyone around me that I was going to have a baby today! I'm quite sure that wasn't the Christmas surprise that they were hoping for. I hope they didn't mind... oops!

We arrived at the hospital with bags in hand and headed to check in. The nurse led us back to our room and I sent my folks off with Nolan to grab lunch before it was surgery time. I got hooked up to monitors and of course we waited... and waited... and waited... and got bumped for an emergency, again, and then again. Finally, my doctor arrived before I got wheeled to the back. I hugged my son one more time and nuzzled my head into his mop of hair never wanting to forget him like he was right then. My first baby. My whole heart.

The ride in the hospital bed always seems so lonely. I know that seems silly, but a part of me wanted to go back and be with my loves for a little while longer. Torn between my present and the inevitable change of the future as a mom of two little ones. I pushed back that saddness when I was back in the room with the hospital staff and the last few t's were crossed.

Finally, Brian joined me again by head. He stroked my head and held my hand. We felt like pros this time, everything much more relaxed than the first. We joked about the sounds of the equipment, and how strange things felt from behind the curtain. And then that moment came and there she was!

The nurse brought her around from the curtain to the warming table. She looked so tiny and angelic. Crying turned to tiny whimpers and then she was calm. A few moments later she was in Brian's arms and near my face. I kissed her tiny head and stroked her cheek. It was so soft and so warm and then I saw the most beautiful pools of blue eyes that I've ever seen. She blinked twice at me and then closed them again, as if she saved those moments just for me. Like she waited too for her mama to arrive.

Before long Brian was able to wheel her back to the room to be joined with our families again while I got closed up. He got to help bath her in the room and Nolan got to see his "Lee Lee" for the first time. He's an awesome big brother and I believe that it's the most wonderful thing in parenthood to watch your children grow up together.

I waited a full year for both of my kids to post their birth stories because I feel like every day for the first year of their life is a celebration of their birth. And as they grow older that celebration doesn't go away, but evolves in a celebration of our journeys. I look forward with JOY and HOPE for my children in their lives. My heart and my soul are full and I am better because they are in my life. It's an honor to be their mother.

3:00:30

I did it. I participated in what quite possibly may have been the most grueling and laborious experience in the worst possible weather of my entire life. The marathon took place early on Sunday, and even though there were a million reasons that I should not have competed I went along and did it anyway.

In the days leading up to Sunday I talked myself out of running on Sunday at least a dozen times. I didn't believe that I could finish the 13.1 mile run, no way! I had never run that far or for that long in my entire life. The race had to be completed in four hours which seemed impossible to me. I didn't think my pace was fast enough nor that my terrible body could hold out that long. But I showed up anyway.

I looked around at the other people there on Sunday and I didn't look like them, I didn't have all of the fancy running gadgets and tools, my shoes were my same old Reeboks I've had for the last four or five years. My leggings were bought in the dollar bin at Forever 21 and my t-shirt wasn't doing much good shielding me from the down pouring rain and 40 degree weather. I felt so stupid for being there and embarrassed for not being prepared.

More than 25,000 people were expected to be at the race that morning and as eight o'clock rolled closer the crowds moved to the start line. My estimated time when I registered was three hours and 45 minutes, which put me in the last corral of the day -- all the way in the back. I walked past thousands and thousands of people making my way to the end to wait... and wait, and wait. The national anthem was sung and the announcer let the first groups go and the crowds moved forward step by step. Our bodies were huddled together pretty close. I turned on my iPhone and got the music going and glances around, guessing where each person would stand in the rankings. It took 34 full minutes for our corral to reach the start and we were off. I found another racer, a tall girl with a bright blue top and long black hair to be my pacer for the first half mile or so but soon she fell back and I found anther.

There were groups of people cheering along the way, some giving high fives, some with signs, residents sitting on their lawns that really helped to push us along. The route was a great tour of downtown Dallas. One of my favorite parts of the race was just being able to see parts of the city that I'd never been to before. We ran through Highland Park and the mansion-lined streets, we ran through the Belmont Addition past the Granada theater, under the Highway 75 bridge, through Turtle Creek and uptown Dallas, past McKinney Avenue and the boutique hotels along the way. The rain drops got fatter and faster along the way. At a certain point running became more about survival than about racing. My shoes were pools of water, my skin was being pierced by the cold water through all three shirts I was wearing.

I didn't feel much pain until about mile 11 when I got terrible muscle cramps in both of knees, the cold weather seized up and down the muscles in my legs and back. Anytime I slowed down pain would shoot from my lower back down both legs until I picked up my pace again. At some point someone yelled that were just one mile away from the finish line. I could see the crowds getting thicker in the distance and I found the endurance to push harder and faster to get through the last grueling hills and puddles along the way. I turned the last corner where the crowd was at least 5 people deep on both sides and I started to search for my husband's face but I didn't see him, the last 1/4 mile was awesome, people cheered loudly and I looked up to see the clock, and something in me clicked and I sprinted as fast I could because I was almost done and I was elated to be finished and be done. I couldn't believe that I had done it. I had finished the 13.1 miles even though I didn't think I could do it. And guys, I've never felt better in my entire life. I was floating on air from the adrenaline pulsing through my veins. I wanted to yell, "F$&% yeah, I DID THAT." But I didn't. It was awesome and amazing and the most incredible feeling in the world. If only I could bottle up that and save it for a rainy day, man. So cool.

I scurried through the crowd at the finish line and rounded the corner to the finishers complex when I saw Brian's face waiting at the end of the fence. His face lit up when he saw me and realized that it was me that was galloping towards him. I wanted him to be proud of me. I nearly collapsed into the fence in front of him as I gave into my body's exhaustion. By then my body started to realize the cold and the pain started to set in. I grabbed my medal and shirt and then met up with Brian, anxious to get my dry clothes on. I found him among all of the other families waiting for me and he helped me hobble to a closed off corner where I changed my clothes. I ached and needed his help to peel off the icy wet layers. We didn't stay to celebrate. I'm pretty sure my body was going into shock because I couldn't stop trembling, each step hurt SO BAD. I grunted through the mile walk to the car, my hands went numb, I just wanted to curl up and die in the parking lot of Fair Park but that didn't seem like an option.

One of the things I looked forward to the most after the race was giving into the biggest junk food binge possible. I didn't want waste all of those calories that I burned! Seriously, I salivated thinking about shoveling all that food in my mouth, NOM. I wanted to eat the face off a hamburger and devour a plate of greasy onion rings. But my stomach felt ill trembling from the cold and shock. The hot and cold flashes continued through the drive home. We got home and I couldn't wait to hug my babies, but mostly I couldn't wait to jump into the bathtub. A hot bath has never felt so good, EVER. I rolled around in the tub for a good hour, letting every inch of my skin soak and relax. I got into my pajamas and laid on the couch for the next few hours cruising pinterest and facebook. My friend Tracy also ran the race and she's the one who told me the times had been posted. I couldn't believe it when I saw my official time, 3:00:30. Almost 45 minutes faster than I ever imagined I could possible do.

It wasn't just about finishing fast though. This was about doing something that I didn't think I could do. My whole life I've had people tell me that I couldn't do something, people tearing me down. An older teacher in my high school said I would never be successful. I laugh at her stupidity now, because my life could not be more perfect than it is. A boy in my seventh grade wrote that I was fat in my seventh grade yearbook. My looks and opinion of myself aren't related to what other people define me as. I see his face on facebook and I still want to punch that little jerk, though. I interviewed for a job at a company that I interned at. I really wanted this job and it all seemed to line up just perfect and then the person who interviewed me said that I wasn't impressive enough. When I put my mind to something I will do it.

I am a force to be reckoned with.

If my children learn one thing from me, it's that their mom is a badass.

And if anything else it's that you can do anything if you put your mind to it. That we are capable of much more than we think. I want them to know that I believe in them and in the power they have to be anything they set their minds to be.

Post race, look horrible but feel awesome

a prayer

I want to run away from You. I want to tear through the fields of this earth and feel the warmth of my beaten path where the rounded stones and familiar steps would take me away, far, far, far away from here and from You to the other side of this place to a perfectly peaceful lone beach.

The sand is cool, the clouds hang low yet gentle are the skies, the water is still. It is quiet and I like it. I build myself a sandcastle with heaps of beautiful and delicately intricate pieces of the earth. I pour myself into this mastery, a fancy piece of art carefully crafted. I feel a sense of pride in the light of what I have accomplished. This castle reflects my time, and energy, and my abilities as a mother, woman, and who I am as a person. Pieces of heart-shaped shells adorn the walls of the tall towers that raise skyward to the heavens. Seashells... trinkets of my soul. I built that sandcastle.

But sandcastles aren't made to last forever and it starts to crumble over time. The elements and seasons change and time goes slowly by. Then the water once still and calming starts stirring and it's crashing down on my beach. The clouds seem darker, intimidating and scary. I shield the sandcastle with my body but it's fruitless. The wind passes over and through me, and the storm overtakes my tiny frame.

Just like that my sandcastle is nothing more than a broken scattered pile of messy wet sand. The wind begins to howl and the sky grows restless. My monument is ruined. I hunt for those seashells among that mess, wiping hot sweaty tears away with my dirt stained hands. My arms and knees are dirty and bloody from digging and looking for those seashells. I try to protect them, each one by one and clutch them close my body. One of them cuts a fresh wound in my palm and I drop it. It stings harshly and I can't grasp them all any longer because the waters knock me down and I choke on the foamy fluid. I'm fighting to find some air as I'm tossed hard into the sea wall. I'm weary and it hurts. I can't find my breath. The salty waters sting my eyes and I cry out because I can't take it anymore.

And You hear me. And You save me.

You scoop me out of the darkness, out of my own mess. You gave me refuge and restored my strength. You gave me grace despite what I did to You when I ran away. You restored my faith and loved me, even when I was most unloveable. You gave me comfort and covered my scars. And you invited to me rebuild castles together in heaven, on Your solid ground.

I will praise You all the days of my life.

9/11

Ten years ago I was woken by a phone call from my father alerting me that America was under attack by terrorists. That a plane had taken down the World Trade Centers, hit the pentagon and a fourth plane in Pennsylvania.

I turned on the tv, anxious to take in more information. I sat on that couch where I had been sleeping for the last few weeks still in my pajamas and poured over everything that Katie Couric was saying. I couldn't imagine what this meant for my country, nor what it would still mean 10 years later.

It was just two weeks prior that I had gotten on a plane from Richmond for my new home and new normal in Texas. I was working at Target and had classes at Tarrant County. I didn't know many people in this strange place. At the time my mom was still in Richmond while our house there was on the market. I thought about my mom. I thought about those families in New York, Washington, and around the world. I questioned what this would mean for us, our country and our future.

I was fearful for more, a flash of memories from apocalyptic stories that were taught in my church classes from the time I was little. The future seemed so uncertain. I wasn't sure what my future looked like. And looking back I remember wondering if all I have now would even be possible.

I felt so alone in the first months (and sometimes years) after 9/11. I didn't have any friends. I had just left the only life I had ever known and America had just been attacked. I had nothing to cling to except for hope. Hope for healing and for comfort.

Ten years later and I can't put into words how thankful I am for those that rose up after 9/11 and fought back and ensured our freedoms. Those that are still fighting so that my children can have the same kind of life that I have been blessed to have.

We are all so thankful.

Falling in love with fall

I'm so glad that the month of August is over. It makes me irrationally giddy for boot weather to hurry up and get here. I love fall, it's all cozy and cool, all laid back and relaxed. I definitely think it's the most chill of the seasons, like if mother nature had a family, fall would be that awesome aunt/uncle with the cool glasses and giant cup of coffee that listened to good music and drove you to get ice cream when you were a kid.

That seems really random, but that's just how my brain has been working lately. I'm blaming the frillion days of over 100 degree summer weather we've been having in Texas. Or fatigue. I really did just google, "where to buy 5 Hour Energy in bulk." Sams Club has it, just an FYI.

My plate is admittedly full and each day seems to bring some other awesome opportunity that tugs at my heart. Just when I think I can figure out how to shift the weight of that heaping portion of responsibility to one side in order to squeeze a tiny sliver of pie (Or say, a girls-only weekend), I trip over my own feet and my plate ends up a yucky sloppy mess scattered amongst the shattered glass and I have to clean it all up and start all over again only more hungry than I was before. It's a cycle.

I think we have some really great things ahead of us in the coming months. I'm not a person that gets their hopes up, but the prospect of the change in our lives makes my heart and soul happy.

Fall is right around the corner. I can see it in the leaves and feel it in the air. I'm anxious for the dried up layers and tired days to end, like my soul shedding its skin and starting over with a new season. Refreshed. Renewed. Relaxed.

Glossy

Life can be pretty darn hilarious sometimes. Falling-to-your-knees-choking-for-air-can't-catch-your-breath laughter rumbling through your body till your sides hurt. I like laughing. life is funny... except when it's not. And sometimes it just isn't.

There are lots of parts of me that's aren't very funny or pretty and truthfully, they can be down right filthy ugly. But I try as I might to cover those over, wrapping up my whole self in a shiny tidy glossy box (with a bow, of course!) to present to you.

This is me.



From the outside I think I look pretty darn good, ifIdosaysomyself.

God did a great thing when he made it so that people's outsides don't have to match their insides. We don't have to show off our broken pieces, scars on our hearts, painful reminders of what has hurt us in the past. God doesn't make us carry those with us... we do that to ourselves.

Somedays I get crippled by what has been done to me or said to me. I don't have the words to explain to my husband why my insecurities make it hard for him to touch me or love on me. He loves me SO MUCH. But I never will feel like I deserve it, that I'm worthy of that because I've been told (and my mind will tell me NOW) that I don't.

I build up walls around my beating heart as wide as they are thick and find comfort in keeping people out of reach, 'don't touch me!' Closeness makes me nerve-y. The deeper the yuckier.... the darker. I'm an onion I tell ya.

A glossy (and sometime stinky) prize-winning onion.