One Year Later

One year ago today, at about 6pm, Tiza walked through the doors of her forever home for the first time.  I went before her in order to catch it on film and to attempt to read her facial expressions.  As was true of Tiza during her first several months with us, her face revealed little, other then the fact she loved the balloons bought for celebrating her arrival at the airport.  Nothing of our home impressed her, she simply took it in.

From what I remember of those first months, Tiza used little of our home.  The rooms seemed too big for her.  She was accustomed to many people in one small space.  Her proximity to each of us was very close and I remember spending most of our time in the kitchen, on the floor.  I'm not sure when she began to expand her territory, but I do remember it came as her confidence and security expanded.  Her physical followed so closely to her emotional state during those early months.  It was the one way we could read her.

 I also remember prior to Tiza's arrival, wondering why people brought in meals for families that had recently adopted children.  I didn't feel judgemental, just curious.  Why would they need a meal, they weren't recovering from childbirth?  Um, yeah.....for those of you with the foresight to bring us meals, THANK YOU!!  It was the only way the big kids were fed during those early days!!  I'm not sure if I even bought groceries!  Tiza consumed all of me; my time, my attention, everything, it might have been harder then childbirth, I can't remember!  If I haven't thanked you before, please know what a gift and encouragement you were to us through your profound act of feeding us!

Around Christmas, Tiza seemed to take all the information she had processed and stored since her arrival and begin to speak out.  Her sentences were clear and complete.  When it started, we'd all just stare at her, wondering who was doing this talking and where was it coming from.  I think she was telling us she was home, both physically and emotionally.  It was so good to have her home!  It was so sweet to see Tiza begin to be born into our family.

When I reflect back over the past year and consider all Tiza has taught me, many things come to mind, but what stands out most is how Tiza showed me we are all capable of much more then we give ourselves credit for.  I've shared before,  the nannies at her orphanage referred to her as their "miracle baby."  In thinking on this, there were many "miracle babies" they were loving on, in fact, they were all miracles.  Aren't all children?  Because of Tiza's early weeks in the hospital, I wonder if she reminded them of the importance of their work?  Maybe she encouraged them as her body began to respond and grow and heal.  Whatever the case, Tiza taught them to never rule out life to death.

Recently, I read a report that stated one of eight children born in Ethiopia will not make it to their fifth birthday.  After spending time there, I understand this statistic.  I've shared in earlier blogs of the bravery of the birth mom's who put their baby's needs before their own heart.  Each time I look at pictures of the family of babies Tiza was surrounded with in her orphanage, I see two things.  I see "miracle babies" in each of their faces and I see deep, unselfish Mother's love.  A love that breaks deeply within each heart and a love that realizes the hearts of their children.

Before Tiza arrived, I knew of a Mother's love.  Since she has allowed me to be a part of her heart, she has reminded me that I'm capable of more then I've believed in the past.  Prior to Tiza, I was a big picture thinker, with that, comes much defeat.  I saw the hurts and troubles around me, but felt there was little I could do to make a difference.  Life's problems were much bigger then my solutions.  Tiza breaks down the equation.  She's taught me that I am able to make a difference, daily.  Often our world applauds the spectacular, the Mother Teresa's of our age, as we should.  Seldom do we take the time to notice the whispers in our day, and that's the very core of Tiza's life lesson to me.  I can be a whisper.  I can love on the one baby for the one day that God has given me.  We can all make a difference in the day before us, with the people and the path we are living.

Tiza's days hold little fear.  The one thing she says she's afraid of is dragons and I have no idea where that comes from.  She's faced lifes' biggest losses; family, security and home and came out of it with love in her heart and smiles to share.  I don't know how she did it.  I'm not sure when the reality of her life will set in, but for today, we celebrate.  We celebrate a big and brave heart.  We celebrate a belly giggle which causes each of us to laugh and finally, we celebrate her life's lesson in striving to believe bigger and act accordingly.  As Tiza marches past some of life's greatest pains, she has boldly challenged each of us to live bravely, so today, one year later, thank you Tiza for making me to set aside my fear and instead, act out, believing life will be different because I am different.  Thanks Tiza,  Year One has left it's mark on my soul.  You Tiza, have left a mark in my heart.  I like my heart better today, one year later.

Black and White

I was getting groceries the other night when I received a text beep. I took the time to check it because home base will often text me while I'm at the grocery store and add to my shopping list.  This text, left me unprepared, it read, "Tiz just said, I am black.  You are white."  I simply put my phone on the shopping cart and stared at the Wheat Thins.  Who knew there are so many varieties of a single cracker?

I continued to reread Marc's words.  As much as I hated my response, my stomach dropping and  focused breathing, it was the response within me. Often, I've heard stories of blended families that describe their children as not even realizing they are of different skin color then other family members, for years, it's like the issue doesn't even exist.  It comes as no surprise that Tiza has noticed and commented on our family's different skin color shortly after her third birthday.  Truth be told, I'm sure this difference has been running through her insightful little brain for months now, it's just that she has decided to take the time to voice her findings.

Tiza, I'm not sure what place or time in your life you will be at upon reading this entry, but I know it's important enough to record.  From the moment God landed you into our home, we have marveled at the beauty that is you.  Your eyes, your skin, your hair, your coloring....each are so uniquely different from our own that we cannot get enough of them.  We talk and touch and love and kiss on your differences all day long.

I think the stomach drop feeling came because I don't want any differences to cause you hurt or pain or anger or fear.  Truth be told, I should be thankful that you, frankly, honestly and accurately claimed the very differences that make up our family.  How is it, at three years old, you are teaching me to be bold?  There is no need to hide behind what is.  It needs no apology.

Josie, Tiza and I were taking part in the Tulip Time parade last week.  It's a local event that celebrates our city's Dutch heritage.  Tiza was dressed in full Dutch attire when a woman walks up to us, bends to Tiz's level and says, "you don't look very Dutch." then kindly walks away.  Josie and I stared, open-mouths, at each other.  Did she really say what we thought she said?  All the effort, energy, and reading we've done as a family in an attempt to prevent Tiza from feeling singled out, feeling like she doesn't belong and in one brief moment, stranger walks up and WHAM, takes our breath away!  It's in that very action Tiza, I celebrate your knowledge and your voice and your confidence!

You see, we are different, really different and that's okay.  For some reason, our world sometimes acts like it's better to look and act and be the same, all exactly the same. However, we are created by a unique Artist, a God who clearly sees things differently. Clearly, He must think sameness is pretty boring.  You Tiza, spoke truth.  You were spot on.  You are black and we are white.  We pray that in future years, this doesn't cause you pain, but if it does, we'll figure it out together, as a family.  A family with different looks, different ideas, different coloring and different emotions.  It's probably all of these differences combined that will help us solve and heal and grow through what life throws us.  How thankful I am that we have each other to help figure life out!  How thankful I am that in your sweet, squeaky, three year old voice, you claimed truth, fully.  How much I love the fact that you celebrate what is different!

 I'm truly thankful for God's reminder that it's often best to think before I speak.  I struggle with that myself and often regret the words I say that can no longer come back.   Hopefully, the woman in our encounter enjoyed watching the parade on that sunny afternoon.   Perhaps she enjoyed it  while seated by the woman that asked me if Tiza was my Granddaughter.  I think there is a chance they may be friends.  I am black, you are white.
 

Introductions

Our family has recently returned from our first Spring Break with Tiza.  Much thought went into our trip as it's been awhile since we've traveled with a three year old.  I attempted to calculate all possible scenarios that may throw our trip; where would it work best for Tiza to sleep, how were we going to juggle her nap time, what if she couldn't sit through all of the large group dinners we are a part of, how would she keep up with the big kids.....and the list went on.

Upon arrival, Tiza again reminded me how I waste valuable hours, time I will never get back, by focusing on trivial details that mean nothing.  Tiza just takes on the day.  She slept when she slept, some dinners worked, and some didn't. She had really high moments and some nasty meltdowns, but at the end of the day, she fell into bed and one knew that she had just lived the best day of her life.

She does that to you, redirects your attention when you least expect it.  It happened on a Sunday morning when we were driving home from church.  Traffic was slow and often stopped, so we had the windows down and Tiz was in the back seat looking out her window with her hands cupped around the top of the car door.  We were creeping forward and approaching a car with its music blaring.  The driver was heavily pierced and tattoed and the three passengers, looked the same.  We were stopped exactly parralel to them and watched them pass around a bottle of whiskey while enjoying their cigarrettes.  The story they were sharing was laden with non-kid friendly words, all of this happening before noon.

It was one of those situations where I would have told the big kids not to stare and just look forward as I would have prided myself in being non-judgmental.  I would have told the kids that, but Tiza had other ideas and clearly saw a different version of the car occupants then I did.  I happened to look back at her and watched as she slowly lifted her cupped fingers and keeping all of them clinched together she gave them one of her baby waves that melts hearts.  The driver of the car, the one receiving this "wave gift" said, "hey, guys, look at that cute kid!"  And like that, we were all in.  No looking forward, no pretending they didn't exist, no judging in my own non-judgemental way....we were engaged.

As I watched Tiza communicate, I saw four guys lean forward, reach out their windows and make baby waves back with our baby.  In watching them entertain Tiza, I wondered who took the time to wave to them.  The driver and I made eye contact and I smiled at him.  He responded with a slight turn of the lips, not a real smile, but it was something.  What I  saw were his eyes.  In that brief moment, his eyes softened.  It's the same look that I get from Levi and Jake on the occasions when we can't use words, but speak through our eyes.  His eyes looked sweet and kind with a little bit of goofy left in them.  They held youth and laughter and what looked like a lot of tired.  His eyes held nothing but a willingness to take the time and make a baby laugh.  His eyes held within them a person I would want to get to know.

Tiza said, "Mommy, my friends."  I think they heard her words as they all laughed.  The cars began moving again and that was the end.  I felt a regret, a wanting to go back to that moment.  Mostly, because I wanted to apologize for looking at their shell and not taking the time to see their soul.  I wanted to thank them for not judging my stuffy, high-nosed self, like I had judged them.  I wanted to make sure someone loved them and reminded them of their importance.  What I really wanted was to tell them the next time I come across someone with a different shell then mine, I will be the one to make introductions, not leave that social skill up to my three year old daughter.

One year ago today, our family was introduced to Tiza in person.  It was a life-changing introduction. A walk through an orphanage gate that has never allowed us to look back.  Tiza has introduced our family to more people in the past year than I can count.  God has gifted her with eyes that see hearts and potential.   She wants to hold your hand, whoever you are.  In gripping your hand with her precious chubby fingers, she will steal your heart.  Tiza see in others value and worth and possibility.

It's clear from our Florida experience that I have much to learn about Tiza and introductions and people themselves.  I was scared when they introduced me to Tiza, mostly, because they called me Mama and I was afraid Tiza would reject that idea.  Clearly, I'm scared to introduce myself to others for much of the same reasons, rejection.  Little did I know in our introduction to Tiza, she would teach us that rejection, most often comes from within oneself and introductions, well, introductions come from the heart.  Tiza, I hope someday, my heart is half as big as yours.  Thank you for introducing me to all of your friends.

Referral Day

It was a Monday morning and I had been in Bible Study.  Jake was home from school, sick and mentioned that the adoption agency had called but I thought nothing of it because nothing big happens when you are ninth on a referral wait list.  Marc called shortly after I arrived home and I could tell something was either very wrong with his voice or with our connection.  At the time, I hadn't figured out he was crying and wasn't prepared for the words that followed, words that changed our lives.  He asked, "do you like the name Tizibt?"  I was making something for Jake to eat, was in a hurry and simply said, "no, why?" and through tears, he said, "that's the name of our daughter."  With those words, my world froze, I froze.

How did we get a referral when we were number nine on the wait list?  I drilled him with dozens of questions.  How old is she? Where is she from? What is her story?  Oddly, he didn't have one answer.  Within seconds I had hung up from him and was calling our case worker.  She had been expecting my call and explained , after she told Marc of our referral, he had heard nothing.  So patiently, she filled me in on every detail she had about this baby Tizibt.  A 22 1/2 month old baby girl that had just arrived at the orphanage after spending almost five weeks in the hospital due to severe malnutrition.  I was told that medical records and a referral picture would be emailed over to us shortly.

It was the photo that changed our lives.  These referral pictures remind me of baby mug shots.  With limited camera know-how, someone dresses up orphans, clips their name on their shirt and with shaky hands, snaps a picture that the recepient comes to treasure like a precious, priceless gift.  I remember looking at our photo of Tiza and feeling overwhelmed with emotions.  The realization that this baby would become my daughter, a part of our family and yet I knew nothing about her settled in.  I remember studying Tiza's picture with such intensity that it almost became 3-Dimensional to me.

Never had a picture held so much information, so much meaning.  In it, was all that we knew of our Tiza.  She smiled on her picture and I wondered, after learning what she had recently been through, how did they even get her to smile?  She had a sweet bald head, which we learned was a result of her malnutrition.  Her nose was a button and her eyes showed signs of life, I took that as a good thing.  In summary, we knew she looked sweet and bald and beautiful and we knew she was ours.

Along with the referral picture, there came all of the medical records they had on Tiza.  Because she had been hospitalized for so long, we were given a decent amount of information on her.  Our case worker told us to read through the information, seek medical advise, pray and let them know if we would take this referral.  As we sat in the doctor's office the next day with all of the paperwork we had on Tiza, our doctor began discussing the possibilities of Tiza's future.  As he listed potential concerns regarding Tiza's medical and developmental delays, I looked at Tiza's picture and knew that regardless of what he told us, she was ours.  It wasn't a valiant, brave move on my part that I felt this way and I was really hoping most of what he was saying would not come to be, but as I looked at that baby face and fell more and more in love with her, I knew that as with Levi, Jake and Josie, whatever they faced, we faced.  So too, was true with Tiza.  She had claimed our hearts through just one picture, there was no turning back.

The days that followed our referral, I would find Tiza's picture stuck in the kids' school binders, I found one copy in the visor of Marc's car and I kept mine in the side pocket of the bag I carried.  Each of us needed to keep Tiza with us at all times. In part, to become familiar with the idea that we were family, but in part, to try to learn the details of Tiza.  That priceless baby mug shot began opening up our hearts, it was working it's way into places we didn't even know existed.

Today, one year later, I've tried to duplicate this photo for Tiza.  Today, Tiza has hair, springy curls that we constantly touch and kiss.  Her smile we've learned, does come very easily and it lights our home and her eyes, well her eyes, are full of life.  A past life that was filled with struggles, but also filled with rich and deep love.  Her eyes hold within them, pieces of life that we still do not know from our Tiza.

It's difficult to believe that it's been a year since we've learned of Tiza because it seems she's always been.  I forget sometimes that she didn't come to us at birth.  When I reflect on last year and remember what "Referral Day" felt like and the months that followed until we were able to meet Tiza, I'm thankful we are on this side and we no longer need to create stories of Tiza from her photo.  That being said, when I look at this original, worn, referral photo, I'm overwhelmed that we were given this face to fall in love with.  This baby girl to learn life from.  This chance to set fear aside and allow ourselves to fall in love with a baby in a picture from a country far away.  Tiza has allowed me to see referral pictures through different lenses then I did hers.  She has taught me that within each picture is a heart and a spirit and a life that cannot be captured by any photographer.  She's shown me that leaps of faith come from all parties involved.  Mostly, she's allowed me to realize that as much as I studied and created and tried to prepare my heart for who she was, there really was little preparing at all.  Tiza's picture was the shell of who she is, it got the ball rolling, but in the end, the love that started with a photo took wings when our worlds met.  I'm so glad I met you Tiza.  I'm so glad you took our family as your own.  I'm so glad for Referral Days!

December 6

Today is such a significant day for Tiza.  It woke me early just thinking about it.  One year ago today marks the date that Emmebt, Tiza's birth mom, took her to the orphanage in Awash.  I have relived the story Emmebt told us hundreds of times, trying to fill in the details that were missed, trying to put myself in her shoes, trying to feel what she may have been feeling, but in the end, I come up with blanks.  Just these big gaps of the unexplained, the unknown that tends to drive personalities like mine crazy.

I still have a pretty clear picture in my mind of Tiza's first orphanage.  I remember driving up to it, a dry, jutted road-path leading to this building.  The building itself was fine, gated in, clean.  The surroundings seemed different to me.  It was within a village, but felt removed all at the same time. It seemed to be on a higher ground within the village.  Maybe that isn't even the case, but that's what's in my mind.

 Emmebt's story includes the fact that Tiza was staying with neighbors for care while Emmebt worked.  The neighbors had no money, no food.  They could not feed Tiza.  When Emmebt came to check on Tiza, she saw Tiza dying. This is when she decided to take her to the orphanage.  What did that feel like?  How did they get there? How far away were they from the orphanage?  Did she walk? Was she alone?

I wish we had the answers to these questions.  When Emmebt first shared her story with us, all of this information was pouring out through our translator, and I'm sitting here today looking at my notes from that day with all these empty blanks.  At the time, the emotions were so raw and painful I'm pretty sure if I had these questions, I wouldn't have recognized them because my focus was so on Emmebt and her brave, unselfish heart.  It felt wrong to ask anything that would make her pain, her love act  hurt any worse then it already did.

The time, the energy and the pain that must have been a piece of Emmebt's decision often consume me.  During our adoption process, I was told at one point or another, when asking questions about birth moms, that there is often a different emotional process that goes on behind adoption decisions, referring to Ethiopia, then my mind was creating.  This may be the case.  It's evident that survival alone plays a role in a culture and a life marked with hard decisions, but even knowing that, I also know a Mother's heart will always be a Mother's heart and I find it impossible to disconnect the two, as much as I would like to.   Emmebt's love act, single handedly, change our baby Tiza's life forever.

I look at her today, our sleeping baby beauty.  This priceless treasure that has been in our home for almost six months and has changed our lives forever and I so wish that Emmebt could see Tiza.  I wish she could be a part of what her unselfish love looks like.  To hear Tiza's giggle, to feel her chubby arms wrap around your neck and then, the icing on the cake, she puts her skin so soft cheek against yours and just hangs on.  I wish for Emmebt to have that kind of hug from Tiza, to feel that feeling that sticks with you all day and to see this joy filled child, this little world changer.

I've pulled out Tiza's first pictures.  She was brought from the orphanage, to the hospital because of her severe malnutrition.  I think the pictures are in the hospital, but the baby in the pictures is unrecognizable.  It's difficult to connect the photo baby with real life Tiza.  The empty, lifeless eyes, the tired position of the body, all of it makes me wonder how Tiza felt , what did she think was happening to her, did she even know where she was?

None of the answers to any of my questions really matter.  We know what we know.  Tiza gets her life changing heart from her birth mama and in the end, that's what really matters, that's what we go with.  We pray for Emmebt daily.  Tiza kisses her pictures in the book that we made for her.  I wonder if Emmebt looks at the book we gave her?  Does she think of Tiza daily? Is she safe? Does anyone love her?  It's all of this, these spinning questions that can drive me crazy.  I want it fixed or answered or different or something, but that is not the case.

The case is this.  God has surrounded my world today with empty-eyed, tired people.  I don't need to travel far and as the Christmas pace heightens, so to do the number of lives that feel broken and empty and alone.  I can make a difference, we can make a difference.  One of the pictures of Tiza's firsts, includes her first doctor's visit.  She had been in our home for three days.  It shows her sitting on the scale in the doctor's office.  When Josie first showed me the picture, I had just glanced at it and actually asked, "who is that?"  So much has our Tiza changed in six months.  The baby in the photo looks dazed, in a bit of shock, uncertain.  The scale reads 10 pounds lighter then Tiza is today.  Today, Tiza walks onto the doctor's scale.  Tiza's skin pigment has darkened from her original photo.  She is this rich, beautiful black brown color that is unique to her.  The dazed, shocked look is held by her family members, not by her.  Tiza has transformed before our very eyes.  I hope we have too.

I hope we as a family are, in honor of Emmebt, loving a little better.  I pray we see lifeless eyes in others and try to make a difference.  I want our actions to take the tired out of someone's day, if even for a moment.  I know that December 6 will always hold a life changing place in my heart, Emmebt, I hope you know that too.

Team Spirit

Tiza has just completed her first season of sports here in America.  The teams she cheered on consisted of two soccer and one football.  While we were in Ethiopia, soccer was always playing on the televisions in the hotel.  The country seemed passionate about sports and Tiz is no exception.  We brought her to the games and she was a textbook fan.  She cheered when we cheered.  She'd point out where Levi, Jake and Josie were while on the field.  She even sat through some rainy games with us, no complaints.

Watching Tiza cheer on her siblings opened my eyes to what team spirit is all about.  During the last play of the first quarter of Levi's first football game, he suffered a concussion.  At the time, we were expecting a nice, easy, quick recovery concussion, you know, the kind that doesn't interfere with life too much.  Instead, Levi suffered symptoms for five and a half weeks.  He was unable to "do" school and spent much time sleeping, in therapy and healing.  It was in that, where I saw Tiza's team spirit shine.  Instinctively, she recognized when one of your own is down, you get right down with them.  You meet them where they are at and you get up only when they do, only at the speed they set, nothing faster, nothing slower.  You allow them to take the lead.  For those of you that have met our Tiz, you understand she's filled with energy, taking things slowly isn't within her and yet as Levi worked his way through the initial days and then weeks of his injury, Tiza stuck right with him.  She understood his pace and asked for nothing more.  On several occassions, I would find Tiza curled up with Levi while he slept.  She was simply there for him.  Without words, but with great love, Tiza continued to cheer on Levi with the energy and enthusiasm she would have had he been playing the game.  It wasn't the game that impressed Tiza, it was the player in the game, regardless if he could play or not.  Thanks for showing me Tiz that sometimes team spirit takes place on the sidelines.  Often it is behind the scenes and mostly it involves seeing the heart of the player, not the game itself.  Tiza's committment to cheer on Levi was therapeutic for him.  When he'd wake up, his first question was, "where's Tiz?"  She offered him what I could not.  She reminded me that you don't need to be able to play the game in order to be considered part of the team.  Tiza was on Levi's team when it mattered the most.

Tiz also broadened my scope regarding a team's fan base.  Past seasons, I've tended to play it safe and socialize with those I knew.  Apparently, this was far too boring for our Tiza.  She introduced me to countless fans, many of whom were cheering for the opposing team.  As I stood next to them, sometimes in awkward silence while they cheered against my kids' team, I was able to catch a dose of what I sound like on the sidelines.  Tiz remained indifferent to all of it.  She clearly understood that as much as fans cheer for teams, their hearts cheer for their children, and that's the way it should be.  Tiz loved the fans more then the game itself.   If a spectator appeared the least bit interesting, she simply needed to meet them.  Through the course of the sports season,  it became obvious that she was partial to fans bringing their dogs to the games or wearing sparkly shoes.    Often, I had to peel her away from the feet of women with bright pedicures and sparkly flip-flops.  They were gracious with their personal space, and Tiza ventured in.

For those of you with children involved in anything extracuricular, you are aware of the time and sacrifice that takes place on your family.  The amount of time running to and from practices, the games, stange dinner hours....as new as this was to Tiza, she took it all in stride.  Her set schedule was really no schedule at all.  Her day and my day, were the events listed on our calendar.  We remain amazed at Tiza's ability to adapt.  When we were picking Tiza up from the orphanage, we were given a listing of times and activities, "this is when she eats, this is when she sleeps, this is when we put her on the toilet."  At the time, I mentioned to Marc, "we should be writing this down."  We didn't, but I remember much of what we were told and it leaves me more in awe of what and who Tiza is.  She is gifted with the ability to compromise, adjust and most importanly, fully live and love the day she is given.  The people within the day are her bonus gift.  Tiza continues to introduce us to the people in her day.  With each introduction, our lives have become broader and richer and fuller.  As Tiza's team continues to grow, so too, do our hearts.  Thank you Tiza for gifting us with your team spirit.  We will never cheer in the same way again.

Sleeping Arrangements

The purpose of this blog is and remains, to provide Tiza with a place to start when she comes to a point in her life of seeking and searching for pieces of her past that are missing.  I've tried to fill in the blanks with what I know and what I think I would want to know if I were an adopted child.  That being said, there simply must be space and time for lighter entries.  Today happens to be one of them.  It was prompted by my scrolling through our summer photos and finding a repeated theme.  Sleep.  I CANNOT believe the places we've allowed our little Bonus Baby to sleep!!!  What has happened to my parenting style?  Do I even have a parenting style?

Had I viewed these photos as a new mom to Levi and Jake, I  would have sighed heavily and with great judgement, felt sorry for parents whose value system is so distorted they cannot be home in a stable environment in order to allow their babies to sleep.  I mean really, it's only a few hours!  I can even hear myself say these things.

Some of Tiza's sleeping postures are justifiable.  Having spent countless hours at the lab or in the doctor's office this summer, it stands to reason that on one of her visits, she would fall asleep and she did.  The others?  Well the others just show the wear and tear it takes on a two and a half year old when she needs to keep up with a family of "big kids."  That being said, to all of you new parents out there, trying to do  everything by the books.  By all means, keep up your quest.  Excellence in parenting is an admirable goal.  However, if at the end of the day, something falls through the cracks or things don't go quite like the book describes or your brain imagines, know this, if your baby knows they are loved, do all of the tiny details need to matter so much?  Maybe it's their security in your love that allows them to fall  asleep in strange places in the first place.  Maybe it's your  love that lets them stretch out and relax to the point of entering their dream place.  And certainly, it's your love that allows them to wake up and call out for you, so sleep away babies, wherever that may be.

And as for you Tiza,  please know that you had a very nice bed in our home during those early days.  Also know, you didn't really like said bed very much and preferred sleeping anywhere but. And finally know, that because you slept in some pretty unconventional settings, you allowed your mom to loosen her grip on some of the tiny things in life that really aren't that important after all.