EyesOnHeaven

We were up at 7:45 in the morning, getting ready, changing two diapers, making two bottles, packing two crib/playpens into the trunk, and getting all of us into the car. We were on our way to an overnight faculty retreat with a one year old and a five-week old – bound to be an interesting experience! Both babies behaved themselves excellently during the two and a half hour car drive. Paul slept quietly the whole way. Charbel, on the other hand, doesn’t know what “quiet” means. He spent the time talking, singing, and laughing. When we weren’t listening, he was content talking to his stuffed giraffe.

We arrived in Al Qosh around noon. Eddy heroically took both kids to our room in the retreat center, to change two more diapers, make two more bottles, assemble the two cribs and try to get two babies to take a nap. He was successful at most of these tasks, but both babies declared mutiny regarding the nap. I went to the dining room to eat a quick lunch before getting ready to give the introduction to the retreat.

There was a lovely view from the retreat center. Most people think of Iraq as a barren desert. It definitely is a desert, and gets quite hot in the summer, but it also has its share of greenery that brightens the picture.

Although most of the retreat center was built just recently, the chapel was hewn into the side of the hill in the fourth or fifth century AD. Christians not only worshipped there, but also hid there during times of persecution. In Italy, the Christians developed an underground catacomb system for safety from persecution. In this region, the Christians developed a different system. They dug into the mountain to make their places of worship so they wouldn’t be seen. In times of persecution, the Christian community would flee into these chapels, completely blocking off and camouflaging the entrance below in order not to be found. Since they sometimes had to stay in hiding for weeks or even longer, they made two small openings in the “roof” – the top of the mountain or hill. These openings were just wide enough for one person to fit through. Since there were no ladders, and the openings were high up, three or four men would have to climb up on each other’s shoulders for the top one to finally reach the exit and be able to hoist himself through it. The Christians used this system to send out a couple of men when needed to gather more food, or to act as scouts and determine when it was safe for the group to come out of hiding. When they returned, they would lower the provisions through the holes, and the Christians below would again form the human ladder to bring down their returning brethren. The location, size and height of these openings ensured safety for the Christians. They were difficult to find because they blended in with the rest of the ground on the mountain. Their size allowed only one person to fit through at a time, so it was impossible for an army or group of enemies to enter and, because the holes were so high above the ground of the chapels, anyone that did try to enter had no way of making it down, unless the Christians below helped them lower themselves safely.

The retreat center we stayed at was built onto such a chapel, and continues to use it today. Electric lights and chairs have been added, but aside from that, the chapel has been left as it was when the early Christians first constructed it. As we felt the stone walls, breathed in the cool underground air and heard the silence, it was as though we were touching the past. The Mass we had there seemed to unite us more strongly to the many saints and Christians who have gone before us and, whether here or in other regions, suffered and died that the faith might live, enabling us today to call ourselves Christians.

In the afternoon, we traveled a short distance to St. Hermizd, a monastery dating back to the fourth century. While a newer structure has been added, the original chapel, similar to the one at the retreat center in purpose and structure, can still be visited. The original cells were dug out of the mountain in the area surrounding the chapel. Although a more typical monastery was built down in the nearby town a while ago, one of the ancient cells was still inhabited by a monk until just recently. The monastery is tucked away between some hills, and can only be reached by one long winding path, that made it easy for the monks and early Christians to see anyone approaching long before they could be seen.

Although such a remote location is no longer needed for safety purposes today, it is still a perfect location for a monastery. The fresh air, the view, and the distant noises that gently float up from the plains below make it an easy place to pray and connect with God.

On the way back from the monastery to the retreat center, we stopped at a boys’ orphanage, to see a new structure being built for them, and to play with them for a little while.

We planned to stop at the girls’ orphanage, located a few blocks away, as well, but ran out of time.

Regarding the night at the retreat center… well, I will only say that the babies didn’t sleep the first half of the night because of the teachers, and the teachers didn’t sleep the second half of the night because of the babies. I’ll leave the rest to your imagination! In spite of the exhaustion that ensued, I am glad we had the opportunity to visit these places, and hope we will be able to return to them sometime soon with more time, to look at them more closely, enjoy their beauty, and reflect on the testimony they give to the strength of Christianity throughout the ages, and God’s faithfulness toward his people.

To my friends that also have children – I hope you agree with me. To those that don’t yet, I hope that one day you too are blessed with this wonderful experience…

I’ve always grown up knowing that we are all children of God. I always took that to mean that I should love God and obey his commands, and that he loves me as a Father, just like my own parents and even more. Now, during the past year or so, as a parent, with children of my own, I’ve observed some things that have given me a little more insight into what it means to have God love us as a father…

• Even when a child doesn’t realize it, parents’ first priority is the happiness of their children, and they spend most, if not all their time, trying to console them and keep them happy.
• Parents love their children no matter what they do, how hard they cry, or how many temper tantrums they throw, because they realize that the child cannot always help these reactions, but gets angry or frustrated due to a feeling of helplessness, inability to communicate when they feel inside, tiredness, or insecurity. In a child, anger or tears is often a way of calling out for help, and the parent can use these situations as a way to help the child learn other ways of communicating and reacting, and fill them with the security and confidence that they are always loved, no matter what.
• Parents always go before the child to make sure everything is safe. They make sure there’s nothing on the floor to trip over, they make sure the child is bundled enough to go out in the cold without getting sick, they make sure they only go places that have good company for the child, they come home early if the child is tired, etc.
• Parents are the first – and sometimes the only ones – to understand their children. When babies first learn how to speak, they make up their own words that, to them, have a definitive meaning. Someone else might not know that “um” means “eat,” or “appa” is an attempt at “grandpa,” but the parents do. Other times, they are saying real words, but other people still can’t understand them because of their unique accents. Again, the parent knows best what the child is saying.
• Parents prefer to see their children happy then to worry about their own happiness, and would go through any suffering to spare their children from the same suffering. Perhaps this is the simplest explanation of the crucifixion.
• A parent spends all their time marveling at the beauty of their child, hoping the best for their future, and working and sacrificing to make it a good one.
• All circumstances are defined by the parent’s love for the child. Dirty diapers aren’t so disgusting, exhaustion isn’t so bad, and drool is just part of life. A single smile from the child makes everything more than worthwhile.

All of this – the love a human parent can have for a child – is just scratching the surface of God’s love for us, and I think that we will never be able to fully comprehend how he cares for us. But I do know that if the incredible love I feel for my own children is but a small fraction of God’s love for us, then it is truly something wonderful beyond words.

My husband and I share many things in common. We both love writing, playing sports, watching movies, going for drives and enjoying nature. On a deeper level, we share many values, including our love of family and our faith. We share a vision of our future life together – a simple, but meaningful life of joy, love and togetherness with each other and the children God blesses us with. We share the hope of journeying together through this life and reaching our final goal of meeting our God in Heaven, where our love for each other will culminate in our perfect and everlasting love for him. All this makes our marriage compatible.

At the same time, we have many differences. We come from different countries and backgrounds, with different traditions, languages, cultures and careers. I enjoy many of these differences. It’s enriching to hear about Eddy’s culture and background, and share about my own. We have fun talking about our different traditions, choosing a combination of both and coming up with new ones for our own family. We learn more about each other, and are also able to combine the strengths we see in our respective cultures. However, we sometimes run into more personal differences as well – differences of thought, opinion or perspective. I think these differences are unavoidable in any marriage, but they can be intimidating. I sometimes cringe a little when I think a difference of opinion or judgment is about to surface, and breathe a sigh of relief once we’ve discussed them and reached a conclusion. I respect my husband even when he thinks differently than I do, and I know that he does the same. But difficulties can still be hard to handle, and I think it’s because, no matter how much confidence and security we have in our spouses, we know that all of us are free. And that freedom means that differences, depending on how they are handled can drive people apart; hence the relief when they have been discussed and reconciled, whether through compromise, sacrifice, or a previously unthought-of solution.

These differences exist in any relationship, but I feel them more personally when they are with my husband, both because I care much more about what he thinks of me, and because we have joined together, in spite of our differences, to form a new, united reality in our marriage and our family. This makes our differences and how we handle them crucial. Over the past two years, I’ve reached the conclusion that these differences are one of the most beautiful parts of marriage, even though they can be difficult and sometimes even intimidating.

First of all, much of the beauty of marriage stems from these very differences. If my husband were to be another ‘me,’ to think, feel and act in every circumstance exactly the way I do, then there would be no reason to marry – each of us would be complete in ourselves. Marriage only works because we are different people, with different personalities, thoughts and ways of being. We each bring to the other something different, something that we don’t have on our own, and because of this, we can complete and fulfill each other. I find in Eddy things that I lack in myself, and vice versa. We need our differences to be better individuals and a better couple.

Secondly, even though differences can drive us apart, I’ve realized that when we discuss them openly, they bring us much closer together. They give us each the opportunity to love the other, not as we want them to be, but as they really are – as they think and feel. Each time a difference surfaces, especially if it is unexpected or something I don’t like, I am free to wallow in my own emotions, or to handle the difference maturely and, in addition to resolving it, to come out of the situation with a better understanding of who Eddy is inside. This enables me to love him more, both because I know him better, and because it requires me to sacrifice some of what I want, thus letting go of a little more selfishness, and making a little more room in my heart to love him and to love my children. He does the same for me, and this makes our differences a wonderful occasion for growing in love, respect and unity.

Finally, I appreciate and love our differences because I see them reflected in two of the faces I love most in this world.

I see in our children, both physically and in their tendencies and emerging personalities, a combination of my husband and I, along with the uniqueness that God gave each of them. I pray that God has given them the best of both of us, and made them even better still – I think all parents can echo this sentiment toward their children.

So… in spite of the difficulties they can sometimes cause, I believe that differences in a marriage, if rightly understood, can be a great treasure, and one of the keys to a successful relationship. I am looking forward to the coming years, as our children grow up and bring forth the different ways they think and feel as well, to enrich each of us and our family even more.

I sat on the couch yesterday evening, gazing at my newborn as he slept. My husband and one year old son were also asleep. I could have been on Facebook, or writing a blog post, or completing the application for Middle School accreditation that I need to have done by the end of the week. I could have been organizing the babies’ clothes, which need it desperately, or catching up on some things waiting to be sewn. I could have been sleeping myself – needless to say, between our year old son and our month old son, I’ve been a little sleep deprived recently. But I wasn’t doing any of those things. I was just sitting there on the couch, soaking in little Paul’s cuteness, listening to him breathing.

Our life right now has been full of sound and busyness: cries and screams, gurgles and laughs, newborn coos and toddler baby-talk… the sound of legos, and the repetition of “The Wheels on the Bus…” and other children’s songs on a CD that never ceases to delight Charbel… doors opening and closing, people coming and going, telephones ringing… the clanging of dishes and humming of the washing machine. Then there’s the diaper changing, consoling, teaching, playing, cleaning up, and everything else that goes with parenting. Add to that taking care of the house, running errands, working for the school, and trying to keep ourselves put together, and my husband and I have our hands full.

The past month of our life, since our second son joined us, has been marked with joy and beauty, but also accompanied by challenges and difficulties. Sometimes spending the day caring for our two boys, going from one to the other to cuddle and console, play and teach seems wonderful – other times, it seems like we barely make it through the day and just go from one whine to another.

As I sat there, enjoying some moments of rare silence, I realized that the challenge my husband and I now face is that of making music. We are given what we need: notes of different pitch, tone and duration, and occasional rests – or treasured moments of silence. These can be thrown together and allowed to clash or can be combined harmoniously. We can listen to beautiful music produced by our life, or struggle through a day of cacophony, and miss the symphony we could produce with the same “notes” – the circumstances God sends us each day. We choose whether to see changing another diaper as a chore, or as another moment to love our children. When our one-year-old expresses his newfound willfulness, sometimes to the detriment of our plans, our things, or our emotions, we choose whether to be annoyed or to use it as a moment to teach him, persistently but kindly. In every moment, with every choice life presents us, we choose how to react, and teach our children how to react. We determine whether each moment is just another second passing by, or a new moment to love – to love our husbands, to love our children, to love others, and to love our God.

As we continue learning how to be a good parents and spouses – lessons that I think will continue a lifetime, I’m sure we can’t avoid occasional clashing notes, but I pray that God helps us turn the life he has given us into a piece of music that resounds with love and joy, faith, hope and fulfillment.

I now understand why so many people say that children grow up too quickly. At a year and a month, Charbel is already well past the newborn stage, and has crossed the threshold into toddlerhood. Right now, it seems like he has one foot on each side of the door – sometimes he acts like a toddler, while at other moments, he reverts back to baby-like behavior. Nevertheless, day by day, his baby tendencies fade more and more; all too soon, they will be a distant past. While I miss the newborn Charbel that I brought home from the hospital a year ago – the Charbel that did nothing but eat, sleep and look to be cuddled – I thrill to the little boy he has become, a little boy who can eat real food and play, that can walk and talk. He struggles with the typical woes of toddlers his age: learning that he has a will of his own, but can’t always follow it, needing to cope with a new annoyance in life called rules, and having to accept that mommy and daddy can’t spend all day on the floor playing with him, even when he asks nicely. In spite of these childhood difficulties, Charbel is a little boy in love with life, a joyful boy who wakes up and starts each morning with a gurgling laugh as he shakes the side of his crib, asking to be lifted out. Aside from diaper changes, he loves all parts of his life: he loves playing with us, he loves going to school with us and getting attention from everyone that passes by, he loves visiting grandma and grandpa next door (perhaps in part because they have a ‘treat’ cabinet that he is allowed to look in every time he visits and always happens to have something in it)… He loves his meals – and the messier they are, the more he enjoys them! And, he loves to learn. He is picking up words more and more quickly now. He knows that we use remote controls to turn on the heaters, the TV and the stereo, although he doesn’t know what buttons to push yet. He knows that one of us is going to come down when he hears a door open upstairs, and he rushes to the banister to meet us. He knows to put his hand to his ear, say “hello” and start talking when the phone rings. And he knows to warn us when he is thinking about doing something he shouldn’t by wagging his finger “no” at himself before proceeding to grab at the laptop or other forbidden object.

His cognitive strides have also transformed play time. He can engage in his toys for longer stretches now, on his own or with us. He can take his legos apart and sometimes get them back together. He bounces and throws his balls, plays hide and seek with us, or with his stuffed animals when we aren’t available, wrestles with his tiger and talks to his monkey… He pushes all the buttons on an educational easel that teaches him about letters, numbers, colors and shapes… He explores his environment and surroundings. The list goes on. Most recently, as signified by the title of this blog post, he has begun experimenting with drawing. No pens or pencils yet – he still puts too much on his mouth and is too indiscriminate in where he puts things down – anything with ink would be devastating for the walls or carpet – as well as for his clothes, hands, and most probably cheeks as well! But he has an Etch-a-Sketch with various drawing tools. It stimulates his creativity and is parent friendly – the drawing is contained to the surface of the board, and can be erased with one swipe. Learning how to properly point the magnet end of the “pen” downward to draw on the board resulted in Charbel’s first intentional picture; or perhaps it would be more proper to call it his first  deliberate scribble. Needless to say, I got very excited seeing Charbel using the board and making something.

My pride goes beyond that of a mother seeing her son reach milestones and develop his fine motor skills. It is really awe at the amazing things that Charbel – and all little children – have hidden inside of them. This first drawing is the opening of a door through which many more things will come. Although his scribbles are faint and unintelligible, it is a sign of intelligibility. It is the beginning of a greater connection between our son and the world. Previously, he has received, taken things in through his senses, and communicated over essential matters, conveying through body language, sounds or first words when he is hungry, tired, angry, happy, etc. The ability to channel thought through an instrument of drawing opens up a new form of communication, through which our little Da Vinci can bring what he has inside of him out, and begin to make his own unique contributions to the world. Little by little, he will express himself more and more perfectly, through both tongue and pen.

As I watched Charbel scribble, I thought of a quote from one of my favorite authors – G.K. Chesterton – that in some way reflects when I felt seeing my son touch his pen to the Etch-a-Sketch. In The Everlasting Man, he speaks about the beauty of art as something that distinguishes man from all other creatures:

“It is the simple truth that man does differ from brutes in kind and not in degree; and the proof of it is here; that it sounds like a truism to say that the most primitive man drew a picture of a monkey and that it sounds like a joke to say that the most intelligent monkey drew a picture of a man. Something of division and disproportion has appeared; and it is unique. Art is the signature of man,”

And later,

“A monkey does not draw clumsily and a man cleverly; a monkey does not begin the art of representation and a man carry it to perfection. A monkey does not do it at all; he does not begin to do it at all; he does not begin to begin to do it at all. A line of some kind is crossed before the first faint line can begin.”

With their first jagged lines and curves, little children show the wealth they have within. It is one of the ways they demonstrate their privileged place in creation as children of God. And it is one of the ways they can use to make the world a better place by bringing new beauty into it. I have always marveled about the different types of beauty in the world and, more specifically, the difference between the beauty of man and that of the rest of creation. In most of creation, the greatest beauty lies without, on the outside or the surface. It is there to be seen. Only man can truly appreciate it, so all beauty, even the beauty that stays submerged under thousands of meters under water, or can only be seen through a microscope or telescope, exists for man’s pleasure. The external nature of the beauty of creation places it at man’s service; all we have to do is open our eyes to perceive, enjoy and benefit from the beauties of nature. In contrast, the greatest beauty of man lies within. Yes, there is an external beauty to the human person; the natural desire each of us has to look our best, and the enjoyment – or jealousy – we feel at seeing the beauty of others tells us that we do have external beauty. Our greatest beauty, however, is the wellspring of love, thought and creativity that lies within each of us. Even people that lack external beauty possess this wealth of internal beauty; in fact, it is this interior beauty that defines us as persons. I believe that a person’s eyes are a window to this beauty. Through them, we see beyond the external form of the person and catch a glimpse of them as an individual. Each of us is a work of God’s own art, and the light in our eyes shows what makes us a masterpiece – all of us somehow the same, yet each one so different, reflecting a different angle of God’s own goodness, creativity and love. Yet, beautiful as they are, looking into the eyes of another leaves something to be desired. We see depth and beauty, but we also see mystery; we cannot reach the interior of another person from the outside. The person has to bring forth what they have within; they must release the vast stores of beauty God has hidden within them. Words can be used to express a lot, but words are limited. They can only express what we ourselves have understood and logically formulated. Art can go further, using lines and curves, lights and shadows to portray abstract ideas and emotions that we ourselves haven’t fully grasped or can’t put words to.

Perhaps this is reading a lot into little Charbel’s first scribble… but I don’t think so. More time will pass before his drawings clearly represent ideas, but these first lines have opened a door that will play an important role in his life, helping him discover who he is, explore his creative side, and share what God has given him with others.

A sprinkle of dried coconut, raisins and crushed nuts (walnuts and almonds), and voila! The meghle is ready to be served.

Meghle is a Lebanese form of rice pudding, made of boiled rice flour, sweetened with cane sugar and flavored with anise, cinnamon and caraway. This dessert carries with it a special meaning: honor for a newborn child. Mothers, grandmothers, sisters, friends and relatives celebrate the birth of a new child by making large pots full of meghle, distributing the pudding in small glass dessert bowls, and putting it in the fridge to pull out, garnish and serve to guests in honor of the new addition to the family. The tradition attached to this pudding also speaks of the religious sentiment of Christian Lebanon: many Lebanese women make this pudding every Christmas to celebrate the new arrival of the Christ-child.

Given that it has now been three weeks since I gave birth to little Paul, it was high time to make a batch of meghle in celebration! I’ve been meaning to do it for about a week, but kept postponing it, first because I didn’t have all the ingredients, then because the laundry was more important, Charbel was crying, I was just too tired… and the list went on. Finally, today, both babies conveniently took a nap at the same time in the morning, leaving me free to run to the kitchen, toss all the ingredients into the pot and start stirring away. It’s easy to make, but slow to thicken, so time-consuming. It’s well worth it for in celebration of the beauty of life, however, especially when that life is your own child! My husband and I were finally able to enjoy a bowl as dessert after dinner, smiling down on our little one who was sound asleep next to us. We still have a large tupperware full in the fridge to last for the coming week. Any takers?

I think most people, if not everyone, have a wish list – that endless list of everything we would love to do, if only there was time… Unfortunately, one life just isn’t long enough to fit everything in. If reincarnation actually happened, it would be different. With a couple of extra lives on my hands, I would come back once to be an athlete in my youth, and run a bake shop when I get too old for competitive sports. Another time I would live in some beautiful spot in the country, surrounded by nature, and spend all my time lost in reflections and writing. I would take another life to just travel around the world, seeing and enjoying all the places I haven’t been to yet. And, during one of those lives or in a different one, I would open a shop of homemade things – probably an online shop, given the digital age we live in. That way, I could serve a broader population, and wouldn’t have a surplus of unwanted items, but could custom make products to meet the needs of customers.

Since all these lives are imaginary and will never come my way, I will never have time to do everything I want. I’ve realized, however, that if I’m crafty with the time I have and look for opportunities, I can not only live the life I actually have, as a happy wife and mother, in the field of education, but can also fit in more of everything else than I expect.

For a little while before Paul arrived, I found myself with more quiet time than usual. I had already stopped going to school, and was too exhausted for a lot of baking or more active activities, so I turned my attention to experimenting with crafts and homemade things. I say “experimenting,” because I usually don’t follow a set pattern or instructions, but get an idea in my head, and then try to figure out the best way to make it. Sometimes it takes a few tries to find the technique, stitches, etc. that I like best for the different crafts. Given that I don’t have a shop, family and friends – for better or worse – are gifted with what I come up with!

During the weeks before Paul’s birth, I had fun coming up with and making the following:

An embroidered teddy bear hanging to go on the boys’ bedroom wall.

A set of baby booties, hat and bag for a neighbor about to give birth.

   And, a pair of slippers and cell phone holder for my mother.

Now that little Paul is with us, I’ve had very little downtime whatsoever, but am looking forward to finding more time here and there, for different homemade things as our schedule gradually regulates itself again!

Today’s Lenten obligations make the season a gentle one. Fasting is required only twice, on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday, although also encouraged each Friday of the season. Abstinence is required on Ash Wednesday and all Fridays. Some Catholics opt to abstain on a second day – usually Wednesday – each week as well. We might say some extra prayers, work harder on strengthening a certain virtue or overcoming a vice, and/or offer up something we usually enjoy. Other than that, our days pass by pretty normally, and before we know it, Easter – a big celebration – is here.

Why, then, is Lent called “the Great Fast,” or a season of prayer and fasting? The word “Lent” comes from an Old English word, Lencten that simply means spring. In modern English, however, the term has come to be used in place of the Latin word quadragesima, a literal translation of the Greek word for the season – tessarakoste, which means “forty days.” The Greek term was constructed in imitation of the Greek word pentekoste, which means “fifty days.”

This term started being used in the fourth century. Christians had observed some form of fasting and prayer prior to Easter since apostolic times, but the nature and duration of the preparation differed among the Christian communities. St. Athanasius helped universalize the tradition of a forty day season of preparation in the 300s. This duration had biblical significance, as Moses, Elijah and Jesus had all fasted for a period of forty days.

From the fourth century until recent times, local traditions continued to vary slightly, but all observed a rigorous discipline, abstaining from various foods for the entire season. Some abstained from all meat and fish; others from meat or fruit and eggs, and still others from all foods aside from dry bread. Abstaining from dairy products as well became a common practice after the seventh century. In terms of fasting, the initial practice entailed a complete fast from all food and liquid until sundown, when one meal was permitted. People practiced this fast every day of the season, including Sundays, and some Christians exercised an even more rigorous fast, allowing themselves only one or two meals per week.

In the Middle Ages, some of these obligations were lightened. Abstaining from dairy and eggs was gradually set aside. Instead of waiting until evening, Christians were started being allowed to break their daily fast at none. None literally means the ninth hour, or 3:00. However, it was commonly used not to signify the precise time of 3:00, but to refer to a period of time during which the Office of None (vespers) would be said, beginning at 1:00 and ending at 3:00. Over time, none came to mean from 12:00-3:00, and gradually became a term we are all familiar with: “noon.” Today, although it is not required, many Christians in the Eastern Catholic rites continue to practice this tradition, by fasting from all forms of food and drink until noon each day of Lent.

During the time of St. Thomas Aquinas, the Church began allowing collation, or the practice of consuming a portion of solid food – not to exceed 8 oz – and drink in the evening, in addition to the midday meal. Abstinence from meat every day was still customary.

The final changes, such as fasting only being required on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday, a light snack being allowed in the morning as well, and abstinence only on Fridays took place during the last few centuries, thus completing the gradual transformation of the rigorous “Great Fast” into the season we know today.

Wishing everyone a blessed Lent!

As Charbel’s one year birthday drew closer, and little Paul’s due date approached, I began thinking about baby gates. With Charbel’s increasing mobility and the impossibility of staying beside him all the time because of a second baby, we were going to need the stairs blocked off, to rest assured that Charbel wouldn’t climb upstairs or trip and fall on the stairs while our backs were turned.

Here in Kurdistan, baby gates aren’t regularly available in the stores; local carpenters make and install them, so we talked to a carpenter recommended to us and ordered baby gates. In my mind, I pictured little white slats that nicely complemented the décor of our home… So you can imagine my chagrin the day the carpenter came to install his “baby gates”: solid slabs of bright orange wood. They’re quite an eyesore and standout even more because they greatly contrast with the hues of the rest of the house. So, I set about trying to improve them in some manner and make them look more like baby gates.

My solution was to make foam cutouts following different themes  – numbers, shapes and letters, animals, fruits, etc. – that would  both entertain Charbel and help him learn things as he grows. I wish the outcome signified a late blossoming of artistic genius; in reality, however, it merely testifies to the skill needed to run Google searches, select, print, trace and cut.

At one point, while I was diligently tracing and cutting out the foam figures, my husband mentioned that it would be easier and faster to just print out colored pictures and tape or glue them to the gates. I answered somewhat defensively that printed pictures wouldn’t match each other well and would be too easy for Charbel to rip and pull off. Thinking about it afterwards, however, I realized that my real defense for the time I put into the figures for the baby gates lies in the heart of a mother. I believe every mother can testify that a deep satisfaction comes from personally making things for their children. This pleasure can’t come from just buying or giving them things; it’s a fulfilling satisfaction that comes from knowing that the outcome has been personalized for the child by your love.

After completing the baby gates, it was definitely rewarding to watch Charbel excitedly hasten toward them, and hear his ooh-oohs and other cooings as he looked at the different colors and shapes, and ran his fingers over the foam.  Here’s to hoping they don’t lose their appeal too quickly!

“Labor Day” in February is starting to look like a Mady family tradition, as both our little boys decided to pop out in February. I gave birth to little Paul on February 24, 2012, exactly one year and twenty days after I went into labor with Charbel – February 4, 2011. While Eddy and I are definitely in for a challenge, as we now have two babies that need to be fed, changed, comforted, held and played with, we are so happy that little Paul has joined the family, and are sure that having him and Charbel so close in age will be a joy for them and us as they grow up.

I’d heard before that every labor is different. Now I understand more what that means. There were two commonalities between last year and this year: both Charbel and Paul were a week overdue when they came, and both began their labor in the morning, for which I am grateful! I greatly respect and admire women who end up going into labor in the evening or the middle of the night, but continue to hope that I never become one of them. Laboring in the morning and afternoon is exhausting enough – I can only imagine how much energy it must drain when the process begins after a long day, with no night’s sleep…

Aside from their late appearance and morning starts, giving birth to Charbel and Paul were two totally different experiences. I felt the first twinge of a contraction for Charbel around 9:00 AM. It was different than the “fake” contractions he had already stimulated in the second and third trimesters, but wasn’t very intense, so I wasn’t sure whether it was “real” labor or not… By around 11:00, I was having regular contractions every 10 minutes apart, so I knew it had really begun. I was grateful that he began labor naturally because if he hadn’t made his appearance by the following day, my doctor was planning on inducing. We got to the hospital at 12:00. Based on the intensity of the contractions, I was pretty sure I was already well into labor, and was therefore disappointed when I found out that I was only 1-2 cm dilated. A grueling five hours later, I was 8 cm dilated, but Charbel wasn’t transitioning properly into the pushing stage – his head was too large. Four hours and a surgical procedure later, I was finally holding our little darling in my arms. When the complications with Charbel’s birth arose and it became apparent that he wasn’t going to be able to make it out on his own, our doctor explained that there were two choices – an emergency C-section, or a different surgery that would help widen my birth canal. He advocated the second procedure since, in addition to getting little Charbel out, it would make it possible for me to give birth naturally in the future. His expertise paid off, leading not only to the safe and healthy arrival of Charbel, but also to a successful, completely natural labor for little Paul.

This February, as my due date started approaching, I assumed that Charbel’s birth had given me enough experience to at least recognize the beginning of labor, but I soon found out that I was in for a surprise. Little Paul began “real” contractions about a week before the day I actually gave birth. When the started, my physician (a different doctor than last year, given our move to Iraq…) told me that she expected me to go into active labor imminently, and to be ready to get to the hospital within the next 12-48 hours. Six days later, little Paul was still having labor contractions, but they hadn’t accelerated or intensified enough to begin the active labor stage, although they has already effected the thinning and gradual dilation. At that point, I was already a week overdue, and it looked like I might need to be induced for the contractions to accelerate. In an attempt to induce me naturally, rather than turning to medical intervention, my doctor suggested use of castor oil – a somewhat controversial home remedy for stimulating labor contractions, heavily praised by some physicians, and equally condemned by others. I decided to go ahead with it, and, in my case, it worked very well. By 10:00 the following morning (February 24), the contractions began intensifying and becoming more frequent, but weren’t at regular intervals. By 11:00, however, they were frequent and intense enough that I figured we’d better call the doctor to make sure. I thought I was in active labor, but was also a little skeptical, after a week of being on false alarm. Add to that the fact that every internet site and doctor says that active labor contractions are regularly spaced apart, I didn’t know what to think. Unsurprisingly, when the doctor heard that the contractions weren’t evenly spaced, she said that it probably wasn’t active labor, but that she wanted to examine me anyway. It was a Friday (the weekend here in the Middle East), and her regular clinic was closed, so she told me to meet her at the hospital – providentially, as it turned out. By the time we reached the hospital at noon, the contractions had fallen into a regular pattern. Given my experience with Charbel, I was braced for a hard labor, and was surprised to hear that I was already 5 cm dilated. A short hour later, around 1:00 PM, just when I thought that the “really hard” part was just beginning, I was again surprised when little Paul suddenly slipped out. Aside from needing some stitches, I was in perfect condition, if somewhat sore, and Paul was too. The doctor was finished by 1:30, and I was released from the hospital by 3:30. We were back home with our baby barely four hours after we’d left for the hospital, to “check” on whether or not little Paul wanted to come out that day.

It’s been almost a week now, and Eddy and I continue to fall more in love with both our sons each day. We thank God for the joy and life they have brought us, and look forward to all that the future has in store for our young family. We also thank God for all the prayers and support we have had from so many family members and friends who saw us through the last nine months with their prayers for a healthy pregnancy/delivery, and have given Paul such a wonderful welcome into the world. For my part, I am additionally thankful in a special way, for having so much loving support during labor, accompanied by my husband and mother, and for my great dad, who took Charbel and gave him a wonderful day, complete with a shopping trip, stroller walk, baby amusement rides, and freshly squeezed juice – what more could a one-year-old (or his parents) ask for?