Sentenced

Seven months ago, Isaac shocked us by teaching himself to write words on his magnadoodle. Today, 6 weeks shy of his 4th birthday, he surprised us again by writing his very first sentence:

"It's my waffle"

Yeah, he got a little creative with the spelling of "waffle," but look closely: He knew to put an apostrophe in "it's"! That's my boy!

His brother also surprised me today, with a sentence of a different sort. See, on Monday I decided to start reading My ABC Bible Verses to the kids. But since they didn't seem too interested in the first entry, I kind of forgot about it for a few days. This morning at breakfast I had them repeat Monday's key verse with me a few times and figured that was that.

But that was not that: As I was serving lunch, Jude looked at me with a twinkle in his eye and confidently recited, "A soft answer turns away wrath." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Just like that, he'd memorized Proverbs 15:1! That's my boy!!

Thank you, Lord, for the privilege of serving a life sentence as mom to these two incredibly precious boys!

A truly GREAT-grandma

My abuelita was 30 years old when she delivered my dad (her firstborn), and my dad was 30 years old when I (her first grandchild) was born. I promised her once that I would have a child before I turned 30 so that she would not have to wait until she was 90 to be a great-grandmother, but that turned out to be a promise I couldn't keep. By the time the quads were born, I was 32—and their Bisabuela was already gone. Today, on the 5th anniversary of her death, I remember her here with a tribute I wrote on the day of her funeral:

Her Faith Is Now Sight 

They're burying my abuelita today. I won't be there, but fortunately my dad was able to fly out soon after we got the news on Thursday. Although in Peru it is customary to bury a person the day after she passes away, the family chose to delay my abuelita's funeral long enough for my dad, her firstborn, to arrive. I am glad he will be there.

It will be strange to visit Peru next week with my abuelita gone. The family revolved around her. And despite the fact that thousands of miles separated us from her, she was a strong presence even in my nuclear family. I am certain that her steadfast Christian example shaped the way my dad treats my mom, as well as the way my parents raised me and my brother. Every single time I talked with my abuelita, she told me how much she loved me and that she was praying for me.

She and my abuelito, both of whom devoted their lives to the ministry, made a lot of sacrifices to provide for their family of nine. My dad remembers how his mother's hands used to bleed from doing housework. And she was always trying to find a way to make things last a little longer. When she could still see, she would tear plastic bags into strips and then crochet them into rugs. I didn't appreciate the beauty of these recycled treasures until I was older, so I got rid of most of them years ago. But I still have a lovely purse that she crocheted for me out of clear plastic bags, and I cherish it.

My abuelita was the family historian. She loved to talk and, if you let her, she could go on for hours, usually telling stories about people long dead. She had such a soft voice that I sometimes could not even hear what she was saying, but she did not seem to mind. She just wanted to reminisce. I was the first grandchild and I was born on my dad's birthday, so that day was like a national holiday for my abuelita. She would send us beautiful birthday cards decorated with traditional Peruvian scenes, and inside she would write: "¡Viva el 3 de setiembre!" For a while, she would even kill two turkeys on our birthday, and the family in Peru would feast in our honor.

My abuelita could also be quite cheeky. In Peru, we would say that she had a chispa, a spark. She retained it even when she was so sick that she could barely speak. In fact, when we thought she was near death on our last visit, I mentioned to her that I was growing my hair to donate it, and she immediately said, "Te regalo mis trenzas" ("I will my braids to you"). We all just had to laugh through our tears. I am sure that next week I will hear many more stories about all the funny things my abuelita did and said during her long and blessed life.

Everyone who knew my abuelita will miss her terribly. But even as I mourn, I am reminded that this is also a time to rejoice. Her pain and suffering are over, and she is finally home.

My abuelita in 1946, at age 30 (left), and in 2004, at age 88 (right)

Turn your day around

Once upon a time, before the kids experienced the wonders of the school bus, they were car riders. Back then, more often than not, we'd scarf down our lunch, comb our hair, go potty, put on our shoes, and rush out the door in a frenzy to get to school on time ... only to get there early. While we waited in the van for the teachers to open the gates, claustrophobia would set in, and with it would come lots of whining, random crying, and plenty of shoving as impatient little bodies jockeyed for space.

At some point, to distract everyone from the misery of our close quarters, I began to sing "This Is the Day That the Lord Has Made." Almost immediately, I noticed that everyone's attitude changed! Singing praise proved so effective at turning around a bad day that I made it a daily before-school routine, and soon all four kids were joining me in singing both the English and the Spanish versions.

We got out of the habit of singing our song over the summer, but last week we started up again while waiting for the school bus to arrive. Surprisingly, everyone remembers the words, and, as you can see, Isaac is especially happy to be singing our special song again:



Now, be honest: Your day just got a little bit better, too, didn't it?

This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.

(Psalm 118:24)

My mother's gift ... to us

Dear Mom,

Three years ago you wrote a letter reflecting on what my children (and Ted and I) mean to you. Dad gave me a copy of it just before the babies were dedicated, but I was too preoccupied and sleep-deprived to appreciate the significance of what I was reading, to properly thank you for such a special gift—or to even remember where I put it. But yesterday I found it. And I love it. And I am publishing it here because I want everyone to know how blessed I am to call you my mother!

Love always,

Suzy

What the Fab Four and Their Parents Mean to Me

I remember the moment I knew I was going to be a grandmother

It filled me with pride, joy, and anticipation of something greater than I could fathom

Little did I know that a few days later I'd learn that it would be not a grandchild but the Fab Four that we would be expecting

Our first glimpse of the Fab Four (6 weeks gestation)

I saw the many emotions that were going through your mind and body—concern, fear of the unknown, excitement, and a myriad of other emotions

Times were fun and exciting, planning was furious and sometimes scary, but excitement never ended as we puts lots of love into the simple but beautiful nursery awaiting the arrival of the Fab Four

Nursery ready for four babies!

Then the difficult days came when mama had to lay everything aside and concentrate only on bringing four precious, healthy bundles of joy into the world—whatever the sacrifice

None of us knew the sacrifice, pain, anxiety, and dedication that this process would require from both Suzy and Ted during those difficult months

My mom and me 
(6 weeks before the babies were born
and days before my mom's double mastectomy)

But then the day came when the doctors knew it was time to bring these precious lives into their new world—on the eve of Christ's birthday—how special

Again their mommy gave her all and with great sacrifice and pride delivered four healthy, adorable bundles of joy into our lives

I'll never forget the excitement in the hallway of the hospital when we heard the lullaby four times in a row and knew the babies were here

I can remember the moment the T and R families came together in the recovery room to see Suzy after the delivery and with pride she and Ted told us the names of their precious babies

First picture together (1 week old)

Isaac Nehiel - Isaac meaning laughter in Hebrew and Nehiel, also a Hebrew name, after his grandfather

Lucia Celeste - Lucia meaning light and Celeste meaning heavenly—how appropriate to this precious little girl—Heavenly Light. Celeste also means light blue in Spanish and is the color of the Uruguayan flag (of great importance to Suzy as that is where she lived most of her growing up years)

Jude Wesley - Jude of course comes directly from a Beatles song (no surprise here) and Wesley a beautiful T family name

Dahlia Solis - Dahlia being one of the flowers we always grew in our front yard in Uruguay and Solis the name of the beach where we took regular family vacations when living in Uruguay—what memories

Again a miracle happened—all the babies were in the NICU just barely over two weeks—unheard of for premature babies—especially quads—again all this thanks to God's protection and the sacrifice of mommy and daddy

Homecoming Day (2 weeks old)

Although the cycle never ends—changing, feeding, bathing, napping, playing, and starting all over again, the precious moments have been many

The pride I feel having a beautiful daughter that gave her all for these four precious little ones

The pride I feel having a son-in-law that loves my daughter and cares for their little family with dedication

The first time I held the Fab Four was the beginning of a new life for me—God's blessing and love radiated through them to me with a healing power nothing else could give

The pleasure of holding each one, feeling their soft breathing, feeling their delicate little bodies against mine was breathtaking and healing

Abuelita Joanna holding the Fab Four for the first time
(5 weeks old)

The connection that would come between me and the babies when I would change them, feed them, bathe them, make their bottles, hold them, comfort them, talk to them, or discover a glimpse of their personalities cannot be described—only felt

The glorious feeling I get when I see them progressing into little people, watching them discover their new world, that first smile, that first laugh, that first time I felt like they knew I was someone who loves them unconditionally will only grow as they and I grow together

Are there difficult times? Absolutely

Being far away and not being able to have more moments to cherish with them and their parents

Longing to put my arms around each one of them and around their beautiful parents each day

Learning I can't stop and shop in the baby section of every store

Days when I would like to be there so Suzy and Ted could get some extra sleep or a homemade meal—oh how I would love to give it to them often

But we are all blessed!

The Fab Four just before their due date (6 weeks old)

Four beautiful, healthy babies

Two loving, healthy parents—I am so proud of them both—what exemplary parents they are

A God who cares for each of us even when we are far apart

The privilege of being only a phone call away when we need each other

To God I give each one:

Isaac Nehiel - the joy of my heart

Lucia Celeste - the light of my life

Jude Wesley - my kindred spirit

Dahlia Solis - my precious flower

Suzanna Raquel - also a precious flower in Hebrew (lily or rose) - I am so proud to be your Mother

Theodore Wesley - I am so proud you are the father of the Fab Four and the husband of my lovely daughter

At the babies' dedication (6 months old)

My love for each of you cannot be measured

May God bless and protect all of us as we grow together in the love and knowledge of Christ is my prayer

Your loving Abuelita, Madre, y Suegra

Joanna

A new tradition: DIY Advent calendar

One of the many things I've learned in the past 3 years is that, when you have four birthdays to celebrate on Christmas Eve, Christmas itself easily can—and does—become an afterthought. And recently, with both big days already around the corner again, I've been thinking a lot about how to change this. How can I teach my children that their birthday, while wonderful and exciting, is not the most important birthday of the year? What should Christmas look like for a family such as ours?

Although I don't think there are any perfect answers to these questions, I've decided to try to address the issue this year by starting a new tradition for us: For the first time, our Christmas celebration will include an Advent calendar. And not just any Advent calendar—once I realized how pricey ready-made calendars tend to be, I decided to make my own!

First I bought a small hardware storage box with 25 compartments:

Then, to dress it up, I lined the drawers with leftover Christmas wrapping paper and numbered them with punched card-stock circles (labeled with a gold-leaf pen and attached with foam dots). For the finishing touch, Ted spray-painted the case with some Rustoleum for plastic. Here's how it turned out:

I've filled each drawer with four pieces of Christmas candy, one for each kid to eat while I read a story from our illustrated children's Bible. Since the kids are so small, I didn't bother coming up with symbols to place in the drawers; instead, each one contains a "coin" (bottled water lid painted gold) that tells us the name of the person we will be reading about on that particular day. (I figure I can use the next 12 months or so to come up with something a little more elaborate.)

We started our Advent today with the story of Creation. In the tradition of a Jesse Tree, the following days will take us through the Old Testament and into the New, with the last 5 days focusing on the events surrounding the birth of Jesus. I am trying to keep things as simple as possible by just reading a story and then letting the kids color a picture related to what we've read (as they get older, perhaps we can make some sort of craft or ornament instead).

Time will tell whether this Advent calendar will end up being the solution to our Christmas quandary, but at least it's a start!

A time for everything

My last day in the office before what turned out to be 3 months of bed rest was on September 19, 2008. Today, almost exactly 3 years later, I stumbled come across the container into which I stashed some of the objects that surrounded me there, in the little cubicle that I occupied for more than 7 years. That brown box, a time capsule of sorts, contained the few items that I considered worth saving at the time:

1. A photo of me and Ted taken on a trip to Buenos Aires 
2. A couple of Beatles magnets
3. A little box of daily Scripture promises
4. A tiny salt/pepper shaker
5. A bunch of notepads that I made out of paper destined for the trash
6. The 1-gallon pin that I earned for regularly donating blood 
7. A key chain from Peru
8. A never-used sewing kit
9. A bracelet that says "Confía en Dios" (Trust in God), made by a friend in Uruguay
10. A desk decoration bearing the text of Jeremiah 29:11, given to me by my mom when I went to college

As I reviewed the contents of the box, I was struck by what they say about who I was before I became a "quad mom." And then I started comparing that to what my life is like after quads. Some things are the same (I love the Beatles, I avoid sewing), and some things are different (let's just say the 2-gallon donation pin is a long way off). Some things seem nearer (never before have I needed to cling to God's promises the way I do now), and some seem much, much farther away (will Ted and I ever get to travel to South America again?).

Of course, if I were to pack up my "office" now, the box would contain only representations of these four precious souls, to whom I am currently devoting all of my time and energy:

Perhaps one day I will find a way to bring together "Suzy-then" and "Suzy-now." But it's not time for that yet.

There is a time for everything,

and a season for every activity under the heavens.

—Ecclesiastes 3:1

Bedtime story

The bedtime routine in our house is pretty simple: Get in your sleepsack, listen to Mommy and Daddy say a prayer, receive a goodnight kiss, and go to sleep. Earlier this week, however, I suddenly felt the strong urge to add a new element: Between the prayer and the kisses, Ted and I now sing "Jesus Loves Me" to the kids (once in English and once in Spanish). Hearing Mommy and Daddy sing together really seems to settle them down, and a couple of the kids are already trying to participate (Isaac especially enjoys standing up and vigorously nodding his head during the "yes, Jesus loves me" part).

Ready for beddy!
(clockwise from bottom left: Jude, Isaac, Lucia, and Dahlia)

After last night's song, Ted and I were starting to give out the goodnight kisses when I heard Lucy say, "again." I thought she wanted another kiss, but as I leaned in, she beamed up at me and confidently pronounced, "Je-us." What a thrill!

With a song in my heart, I immediately launched into another round of "Jesus Loves Me"—and wondered at a little girl who, although still too young to understand what it means to accept Jesus, nevertheless knows that what she really wants is to hear her mommy and daddy sing about Him one more time before she goes to sleep.

Upon reflection today, however, I realized that I got it backwards last night: The real wonder is that my little girl is actually still young enough to understand exactly what it means to accept Jesus.

"Unless you change and become like little children,
you will never enter the kingdom of heaven."

(Matthew 18:3)

A truly GREAT-grandpa

The day we found out about the quads, my Abuelito in Peru was one of the first people I called. When I told him that his dream was coming true—that I was pregnant—he let out a celebratory whooooop! Then I told him to guess how many babies I was having. After a pause, he declared that he'd be happy with two. Laughing, I replied, "More like two times two!"

Stunned and overjoyed, my Abuelito immediately recalled the story of Sarah, who laughed when she learned of her miracle pregnancy. He then offered a prayer to God, thanking Him for his love and his gifts and for how He grants the desires of our hearts and always provides for us. And he prayed that the four beings growing inside of me would grow up in the Lord and to love the Lord.

The moment was bittersweet: Knowing the risks and challenges of traveling with premature quads—and keenly aware of my Abuelito's advanced age—I feared that he would never get to meet my children.

Saying goodbye to my Abuelito at the airport in Peru (November 2007)

Then, several months ago, my Tio Ner and Aunt Harriet started talking about bringing him to the States to meet the quads. As much as I wanted this to happen, I did not pin my hopes on it. There were too many obstacles—among them distance, age, money, and the U.S. State Department itself. So imagine my joy when I learned that he and my Tia Julia had been granted tourist visas to come see us!

They braved the long journey from northern Peru in mid-August and were in this country for nearly a month. I cannot describe what a special gift and privilege it was to be able to introduce my babies to my only surviving grandparent. Not in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine my Abuelito here, holding out his arms to embrace me and my four babies!

I tried to make the most of our precious time together, but I did not take nearly enough pictures. Here are some of my favorites:

Abuelito meeting Isaac for the first time

Lucy studying Abuelito's mustache

Abuelito holding Jude for the first time


Abuelito cuddling with Dahlia

The quads with their Abuelito Nehiel and my Abuelito (their Bisabuelo)

Thank you, Tio Ner and Aunt Harriet, for your efforts to make this seemingly impossible dream a reality! Abuelito, nunca olvidaré los momentos que pasamos juntos acá en mi casita. ¡Lo queremos mucho!

Anniversary of an earthquake

A year ago today, Ted and I looked at an ultrasound screen and received the SHOCK of our lives as we saw something that we never expected to see: Four sacs! Words alone cannot describe how, in the minutes and hours that followed, all of our plans, hopes, and dreams for the future flashed before our eyes and then vanished, leaving in their place cautious excitement, a jumble of unknowns, and a long road ahead.

Ted and I spent the rest of that day in a stunned fog, telling only a few family members our news and laughing at their disbelieving reactions. We went to bed thoroughly drained from the wide-ranging emotions of the day, and I slept hard until a vivid nightmare jerked me from my slumber at 4am sharp. Although I have never been a journal-keeper, I felt compelled to get up and record what I had just dreamed. Here's what I wrote:

This morning I woke up from a nightmare. I was in a break room at work, where several women were heating up lunch. We were on the second floor, and I could see the street outside. All of a sudden, the room started shaking violently up and down and side to side. The quake lasted for a long time, and I was shouting out, "Jesus, help us! God, help us!" Outside, the road split open, and I was terrified for Ted and my parents. Then the quake ended, and everything was fine. When I woke up, it occurred to me that this is the first time I've understood the meaning of a dream. I've had an earthquake in my life, and all I can do is cry out to God.

A year later, the earthquake has passed, but the aftershocks continue in every part of our lives. The doctors told us that having and raising quads (even healthy ones like ours turned out to be) would be the hardest thing we'd ever done—physically, financially, emotionally—and they were right. It's impossible to grasp just how difficult it is until you've done it, and no one will ever understand what it's like (except for the other quad moms and dads out there). When the strain starts to get to me, and I feel like life will never feel normal again, it helps to go back and read what I wrote that night. The upheaval is temporary, and everything is going to be okay. In the meantime, all I can do is cry out to God.

The Lord is near to all who call upon Him, to all who call upon Him in truth.
(Psalm 145:18)

A sad note

The joy of hitting 31 weeks today is tempered by news of my Grandpa M's unexpected death yesterday. He recently turned 90 years old but was still living on his own, so his passing comes as quite a shock. At first we thought that Mom wouldn't be able to travel here for the funeral because her surgery is so recent, but her doctors are going to try to work with her to make it happen (she has an appointment with them tomorrow morning for evaluation). Obviously, I cannot attend.

The quads were going to be my grandpa's 55th, 56th, 57th, and 58th great-grandchildren, and he was highly interested in my progress. My mother and I kept him up to date on how things were going and, just a couple of days before coming to the hospital, I was able to visit with him so that he could see my big belly. Turns out that was the last time I would ever see him.

The day my mom found out she had cancer, Grandpa called me and gave me a good talking to. I was a mess, but he reminded me that I was the mom now, and that my job was to take care of these babies; he told me that the most important things for me to do now were to talk to the Lord a lot, to keep a good attitude, and to not lose control. He was right, of course, and his words pulled me straight out of the hole of self pity that could very well have swallowed me up in those difficult first days.

So, Grandpa, although I am very sad to lose you, I know that you would want me to keep focusing on the quads and their well-being right now. And that's what I'm gonna try to do.