FIVE!

Has it been five years already since our little Marisa came into the world? I still see her as the little red headed baby with the contagious smile. A toddler with chubby little hands, feeding the dogs and chasing her brother.

On our kids’ birthdays, I always reflect on the day they came into the world. Marisa’s birth day was, unlike her brother’s, scheduled. She, like her brother before her, seemed to be very comfortable where she was and wasn’t making any attempt to come into this world on her own. Because Trevor had been born via c-section, 10 days late (more about him next month!), we decided to go ahead and schedule a c-section for Marisa. We picked June 25 because, well, it was a Friday, and if everything went well, we’d be at home by the following Monday and Steve would be home with us all week.

On June 24, I was getting ready to go to the hospital for my pre-op blood work and stuff, and wasn’t able to leave the house – the spring had broken on the garage door. Steve was at work, our street was a virtual ghost town, and I literally couldn’t get out of the garage. I remember thinking that I hoped this wasn’t a sign of things to come! Luckily, it wasn’t. Having a scheduled c-section was very different than having an unplanned one. I remember lying in the pre-op room waiting for the nurse to come for me, feeling very nervous and, unlike Trevor’s birth, very aware of everything going on around me. It was then that I told Steve I never wanted to do this again, no matter what I said later. And he has never let me forget that!

The c-section went well, although it lasted a bit longer than anticipated, and Marisa made her grand entrance around 2:30 that afternoon. When we made it back to our room, it was the middle of the afternoon and I remember wondering “what do we do now?” Trevor had been born in the middle of the night, and I had been completely exhausted, thankful for a few hours of sleep. With Marisa I was so very hungry, but not tired at all. My parents were staying with Trevor and they, like the rest of the family, visited periodically throughout the weekend. When the doctor said we could go home on Sunday, I was still so unbelievably sore and seriously almost asked to stay longer. How was I going to take care of this beautiful little baby, and her big brother? Even with my second child, I was still amazed they were actually going to let me take her home!

It’s always been amazing to me to see, from the time Marisa was born, how very different she is from her brother. While Trevor was the kid who would hide behind my leg, Marisa was the one climbing in the other moms’ laps at Kidgets on Wednesday mornings. She has always been a performer, which likely explains why she loves ballet so much. While Trevor, from the night he was born, has always been a little version of his father, Marisa is, in so many ways, remarkably like…me. I cannot tell you how many times people will stop us in the grocery store or the mall and comment on how beautiful her hair is. “Where ever did she get that gorgeous red hair?” they inevitably ask. And so I tell them that I had wild red hair just like her when I was little. As I got older, my hair got darker (and straighter). Of course there are other red heads on both sides of the family, but I secretly take credit for Marisa’s. Though her hair is not wild as it once was, it’s still quite red. It looks like hers is here to stay.

I know that we joke sometimes about what a handful Marisa is, but in all seriousness I look at her and am amazed everyday by the kindness and compassion that lives inside of her. How many four year-olds cry, uncontrollably, at movies like ET, Flicka, My Dog Skip, even Up? I look at her and see not only a beautiful little girl who will inevitably break many boys’ hearts someday, but I see an incredibly beautiful spirit, and feel so blessed that she calls me “mom.”