For Better or For Worse

05/22/2012

Today is a special day. I wouldn’t normally pay much attention to this date but since I just finished sharing Our Love Story, it was on my mind…it’s the 13th anniversary of our first date. Thirteen years?! Can you believe that? That makes me feel old and I’m only 27.

Jason and I have a really good marriage. We’re best friends and have been for 13 years. But, if I can be perfectly honest, we’re in this transition time right now, limbo, semi-homeless—and it can be…stretching. More than I want to admit I’ve taken out my frustrations on my dear husband. I’m generally pretty easy going, sweet, quiet (I’ve been told) but believe it or not, behind closed doors I’ve snapped at my husband and be an all-around jerk plenty of times. I’m ashamed of how selfish and careless I have allowed myself to be at times towards the one I love the most.

In case anyone out there has the impression that we’re perfect, I just wanted to set the record straight.

The other day I had been particularly snarly at Jason as we prepared financial documents for the 4th bank. He cares too much about me and our relationship to let that kind of misbehavior get swept under the rug. He holds me accountable for my actions—and I do the same for him. Eventually, I was apologizing and asking him to forgive me, again, which he did. The next morning, he left a very generous love note sitting on my laptop before he left to go on the road for the weekend. I won’t post the photo I took of it but it was something about what a great wife, woman and mother I am—generous because it’s so not true but I’ll accept it as him calling what’s not as though it was, in a prophetic, blessing kind of way. I want to be the kind of woman he says I am.

We’re definitely not perfect, but we’re committed to making it work, to forgiving, to changing, to doing it better next time. Later that afternoon, my Mothers Day gift arrived with the mail. It was a few days late because the Etsy seller had been out of town but I didn’t mind. (I knew it was coming.) We call our daughter Ali-gator and I love the idea of a piece of alligator-themed jewelry to remember my first Mother’s Day as her mom. I love it!

On the ring finger of my left hand, I have the engagement ring Jason gave me when we were still kids (17 and 19) and the band from the day we vowed we’d never give up on each other, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, and all that good stuff. On the ring finger of my right hand, I have a silver alligator in honor of our precious daughter. It’s a subtle, clever, unexpected way to celebrate my unconventional motherhood. Every time I look down at my hands I’m humbled and awed that God would allow me—far from perfect me—to be Jason’s wife and Ali-gator’s mom.

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Posted by mahlbrandt

Precious: Monthly Portrait 10

05/21/2012

Precious daughter, you are 10 months old. It’s getting harder to remember how small you used to be. You look so different now that you have a beautiful head full of black curls. This month has brought an explosion of new tricks. You’re now rolling both directions and slithering/pulling yourself along the floor which means you’re all over the place. Looks like crawling is going to happen any day now. You eagerly pull yourself up to a stand if I offer you my hands. I haven’t seen you attempt to pull up on a table or chair yet but I’m sure it’ll be soon. You can stand on your own, holding onto something, for several minutes before you fall now. As I suspected, now that you’re moving around a lot you are starting to even out and get more slender and muscular. The 18 month pants that fit snuggly around your waist last month are now a little loose. You have an arsenal of silly expressions, ready to pulverize anyone’s bad attitude. Your favorite seems to be Oh!/Whoa! with big eyes and O-mouth. You do this when you notice a new thing—The ceiling fan? Oh!—or meet new people—Hi, Baby. Whoa! You’re so funny. Sometimes you play peekaboo with your arms. Our favorite new trick is your baby wave. Sometimes you mimic our sing-song “Hi-eye” and other times you say “Diya diya diya diya” (for bye-bye) as you wave, because you haven’t mastered “b” yet. It’s super cute when you put it together and it sounds like “Hi Dada.” Strangers love the waves and Oh! face—please don’t stop making people’s day; you have the gift of contagious joy. You are still a great sleeper and eater and so easy to take out. You’ve just cut your fourth tooth—two on the bottom and two on the top now. You’re still loving peas, carrots, green beans, cheerios, apple sauce, peaches, pears…pretty much anything we offer you will eat. You even had some black olives, artichokes and mushrooms off my veggie pizza the other day! You are a very special girl and a delight to your dad and me. Now that you’re standing up a lot, I’ve started putting shoes on you more often. These are one of the 3 pairs that stay on your feet. (Mad scientist hair courtesy of the pool.) It’s exciting to watch you grow and change and learn right before our eyes.

Update for my own records: At your 9-month checkup (at 10 months + 1 day old) you weighed 19.1 lbs (50%) and measured 29″ tall (75%). You really have stretched out!

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Posted by mahlbrandt

Phone Photo Friday

05/18/2012

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Peas

05/15/2012

“We’re like peas and carrots, you and me,” Jason said. A sixteen year old romantic.

“I don’t like peas,” I typed back on AOL chat.

“You don’t like peas?! Peanut butter and jelly, then.”

“Ok then.”

It was 1999 and we were young and freshly in love.

13 years later, we have an almost 10-month-old daughter that loves peas as much as her daddy.

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Posted by mahlbrandt

Our Love Story – 1:6

05/14/2012

I thought it would be fun to record Jason’s and my love story—at least the beginning of it—starting with when we met and fell in love back in 1999. This is part 6 of 6.

Jason and I started talking everyday after school on the phone and on AIM chat (the text messaging of our day…) late at night. We shared everything with each other about our struggles at school, drama with friends, tension with our parents, dreams for college and beyond. It was clear that God had answered my prayer.  I got my best friend.

From the beginning, Jason shared with me that he wanted to take it slow and not rush into anything. It hurt. I assumed that meant he liked me, but he didn’t like me like me. But he kept calling. And we kept getting closer.

Jason had a job at a McDonalds inside of a Wal-Mart (talk about double-yuck!) and as my mom and I were on one of our frequent mother-daughter shopping dates, I suggested we stop by and say hi to him. She kindly obliged. We probably ordered fries or a milkshake. That I don’t remember, but I do remember seeing Jason in his purple hat and polo shirt and thinking he looked so cute!

The Saturday after our first double date, Jason and I went out again, just the two of us this time. We went down to the peninsula to watch the sunset over Lake Erie—my favorite place in Erie, PA. I remember sitting on a lifeguard chair together and talking about the awesomeness of the sunset and how the sky changes colors. We pondered the marvels of God and the complexity and beauty of Creation. This guy was a deep thinker and I loved that we could share this awe of our Creator together.

Back at my parent’s house we watched TV with my dad. When he left the room, I let Jason pick what he wanted to watch. He landed on Emeril on the Food Network and I learned that he loved cooking and was considering becoming a chef. Seriously? This guy is an amazing musician, writes poetry, can spend an hour marveling at the sunset AND he loves to cook? I was in heaven. Emeril’s show was just starting to get popular back in 1999 and he would say he needed to “kick it up a notch” every time he was adding more spice, and “bam” as he tossed it into the dish.

As we sat there on the love seat together, across from Emeril Lagasse on the TV, Jason asked if I thought we should “kick it up a notch. You know, make it official.” He was asking me to be his girlfriend! I don’t think Jason was certain of it quite yet, but God had answered his prayer, too. He didn’t want to date another girl unless she was his future wife.

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Posted by mahlbrandt

Mother’s Day Hurts

05/13/2012

I don’t usually blog on the weekends but it’s Mother’s Day and there is so much going on my head, I need this space to sort it out. (OK?)

It’s technically my first Mother’s Day today. Yay! I love being a mom. It’s even more fun than I expected. I say it’s technically my first Mother’s Day because last year at this time I was expecting. Not pregnant; we were in the midst of training to become foster parents.

At what point does a woman become a mother? Is it the moment of conception? Is it the moment her child is born? Is it the first time she sees her child’s face? Is it the day they meet for the first time? Is it when she’s aware of her child’s existence? I pondered these things one morning last Spring and I asked God. I felt His answer wrap around me, You became a mother the moment you decided to become a mother.

So, you see, a year ago, I already felt like a mother in a lot of ways. I had a car seat installed in my minivan, for crying out loud. I just didn’t have any kids to buckle into it yet. But I could feel their existence like an ache inside of me. I prayed for them and cried for them as I arranged childrens books on ledges, painted a nursery and stretched a sheet over a new crib mattress. Last Mother’s Day was full of excitement and preparation.

Mother’s Day has never been a hard day for me. Never a sad day. I know it is for a lot of people… women who long for children, children who long for mothers, mothers who have lost children or lost touch with their children, children who have lost mothers or lost touch with their mothers. I’m not one who was brokenhearted on my childless Mother’s Days because I never doubted that I’d be a mom one day. I was not in any hurry. I knew God put it in me to be a mom and I didn’t care that much when and how it happened.

This Mother’s Day is sad for me, though. I am crazy in love with my little girl. She fills my days with joy with her sweetness, giggles and gigantic smiles. Her baby browns pierce into me and melt my heart. She’s everything I could ever want in a child. She is a blessing. But I am her mother because she was taken away from another mother. And that is why I am sad this Mother’s Day. On my way to church this morning, I’ll drive past the hotel where she lives—the woman who carried my precious daughter for 9 months, who decided not to abort this one, who brought her into the world hopeful she could parent this time, that she would be able to be the mother her daughter needed. But it didn’t happen. She messed up. Again. And a child was taken from her. Again.

(photo: beth rose photography. bethrose.com)

I have an irrational amount of respect for my daughter’s biological mother, her first mom. “How could someone give up such a beautiful child?” a friend once asked me, without thinking of the implications. Before I met her, it was much easier for me to judge her, too. She wasn’t a “real” person to me yet. I knew on paper what she had done and I was angry about what had happened to Precious, what she had been put through. However, getting to know this woman forever changed me and my perspective about the parents of children in foster care. She was not a monster. She was not an evil child abuser. She was not a heartless, selfish, careless person. We all make mistakes, some with more serious consequences than others. I can say without a shadow of doubt that she loved, and still loves, Precious deeply. She has dreams and hopes for her future. She misses her terribly and I hate to think of what she might do to try to cover the wound left by the children that were ripped from her. She’s a hurting woman—just like many others on this day—and my heart breaks for her.

So that is on my mind today.

Then, there is the problem of orphans. There are thousands of kids in this country who have no mothers to celebrate today. I’m not even going to try to carry the weight of that burden because I would be instantly crushed. Lord knows I can only handle so much. But I weep for them, too. We’re making more room… I whisper into the wind. Our new house will have 4 bedrooms. FOUR! But there are so many motherless kids. So many more than our home will hold.

I read this awesome blog post on Friday called Where is the Mommy-War for the Motherless Child? and wanted to run around shouting, YES! YES! Why are we moms not more outraged about the number of motherless kids around the world? I get that stay at home moms are offended that working moms think they don’t work hard and working moms are offended that stay at home moms think they’re doing better for their children. I get that some moms advocate for breast feeding while other moms choose formula for valid reasons. In all these situations, these kids have moms who love them and are providing what they believe is best for their financial, nutritional, emotional needs. In light of the fact that there are thousands and thousands of kids WITHOUT mothers, IT DOESN’T FREAKING MATTER. Kristen says it better than me, so please read her post.

So there’s my broken heart this Mother’s Day.

I will be happy today, I promise. I will savor the sloppy wet kisses of my baby girl and hug her a little tighter, endlessly grateful for the blessing she is to my life. I will thank my mom for setting an awesome example for me and for continuing to love, encourage and support me as an adult.

Who knew Mother’s Day could become such a tangled mess of emotion?

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Posted by mahlbrandt

Phone Photo Friday

05/11/2012

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Water Baby

05/10/2012

We had a pool for the first five years of my life so my parents we adamant that my siblings and I learn to swim as early as possible. By preschool at our local YMCA, I was able to jump off the high dive fully clothed and swim the entire length of the pool for a water survival test. I loved to swim. I still do. My parents have a lovely pool in their backyard that I plan to use a lot this summer while we’re living with them. And naturally, I want to teach my daughter to swim as soon as possible. (It’s a life skill that everyone should have!) I hope she enjoys swimming as much as I did.

It’s been warming up and we’ve been in the pool twice so far this spring. Both times it was just the two of us so I couldn’t take any pics of her in the water.

I’ve watched a ton of YouTube videos on tips for teaching babies to swim, float on their backs, learn to hold their breath and put their faces underwater. We haven’t gotten very far yet but we’re having fun. The other day I found a swim shirt at Goodwill and a beach ball at Target each for $1. The ball was a big hit.

(Check out that new tooth!)

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Posted by mahlbrandt

A Mother for Choco

05/08/2012

A sweet friend recently gave us a copy of this book, A Mother for Choco. It’s the best kids adoption book I’ve seen, not that I’ve seen many. (My bloggy friend and fellow adoptive mom, Annie, recently sent me a long list of suggestions so I have many more to check out in the future!) But back to Choco and his search for a mother. It starts out sounding a bit like the P.D. Eastman book, Are You My Mother?, which I loved as a kid, mainly because of the way my big brother would read it to me and “SNORT!” for the crane at the end. But then A Mother for Choco takes a brilliant twist when Mrs. Bear helps Choco identify the qualities of a mother aside from physical resemblance. I won’t tell you the whole story here but it’s super sweet. I just read it again to Precious yesterday and she humored me by acting like she really understood the story. At the end she looked up with her big baby browns and melted me. I’m so thankful to be her mother. We don’t look alike and it doesn’t matter.

“No matter where Choco searched, he couldn’t find a mother who looked just like him.”

Just in time for Mother’s Day: A Mother for Choco. I highly recommend this one for foster and adoptive moms or ANY moms, really.

BONUS: There is an Ally the Alligator character in this book! (Ali-gator is my favorite nickname for Precious, whose real name starts with “Ali…”, in case you hadn’t guessed that.)

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Posted by mahlbrandt

Our Love Story – 1:5

05/07/2012

I thought it would be fun to record Jason’s and my love story—at least the beginning of it—starting with when we met and fell in love back in 1999. This is part 5 of 6.

Monday after school I called my friend Lindsay to discuss homework, youth group, the usual…and why did she think Jay hadn’t called me yet? Was he going to ask me out on a date? We tossed around a plan that maybe we could invite Jason and the guy Lindsay liked, Matt, to hang out and make it seem like it was just a group of people from church hanging out…not a date or anything.

About that time, the call waiting beeped. Hang on, Lindsay. There is someone on the other line. Hello? Is Martina there? This is. This is Jay Ahlbrandt. Heart. Beating. So. Hard. His voice sounded incredible. So different than hearing my brother’s or my dad’s voice on the phone. He was speaking soft and clear, right into my ear.

We made small talk for a few minutes then he asked if I’d like to go to a movie the next Saturday night. I was glad he couldn’t see the ridiculous giddy grin on my face. I’d love to! Not sure if I was ready for a solo date with a boy—I was only 14, remember—I suggested we make it a double date and invite Lindsay and Matt. Jason was the only one of us with a license so he offered to pick everyone up. I arranged plans with Lindsay and then Matt (still letting him think it was just some friends hanging out).

The day of our date, my mom got a call from Lindsay’s mom. Karen had all kinds of questions for my mom. How well did she know this Jay? Was he a good driver? How old was he? Where exactly were we going? What time would we be home. My mom laughed. Lindsay is the first born in her family and I’m the youngest of three in my family. “Should I be more concerned?” she asked me jokingly. “I guess I’ve already been through this with your sister and brother and I just trust you.”

I paced around my bedroom, sneaking peeks out my window towards the driveway every 15 seconds. When I’m nervous, I have a constant urge to pee. I think I went to the bathroom three times before Jason’s blue Acclaim pulled into the driveway. Another quick swipe of deodorant. Check myself in the mirror one more time as the doorbell rang. I let my mom answer the door so she and my dad could fulfill their parental duty of inspecting a guy before he takes their daughter out on a date. I walked down the stairs a minute later, even though I knew my parents weren’t going to be obnoxious and intimidating; it just wasn’t their nature.

We picked up Lindsay and then Matt and headed to the dollar theater—the one that showed movies a few months late for a greatly discounted price. It was becoming clear that Matt still didn’t think this was a double date. While Jason bought my $1.50 movie ticket for She’s All That, Matt just bought his own. We sat in this order: Matt, Jason, Me, Lindsay. It was a cheesy high school romance movie but it totally spoke to me. It was about a cool, popular guy who ends up falling in love with a quirky, shy, artsy girl after a mean bet from his best friend who challenged that he could make any unlikely candidate the prom queen. There I was—a shy, nerdy, artist—being pursued by a cool, confident, rockstar. The song Kiss Me by Sixpence None the Richer that played at the end of the movie instantly became my new favorite.

We got a late dinner/snack at Burger King afterward and then went back to Emily’s house to say hi to some other friends. At this point, I think Lindsay was completely frustrated with Matt’s avoidance and decided she’d get a ride home from someone else. Jason took Matt home and then me. We both agreed we had had a really nice time and should do it again. After a friendly hug goodnight from across the car, I floated into the house. I don’t remember specifically what I did but I’m guessing I went up to my room and straight for my journal to recount the night and draw hearts around Jay’s name with colorful markers. Because that’s what 14 year old girls did back in 1999. Or at least one did.

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Posted by mahlbrandt

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