Can't Help...

Lovin' that MOM of mine.

I need to dedicate a post to my mom, because she is simply amazing. I feel that amazing doesn't even begin to sum her up, and there are so many things I could share with you about why my mom is amazing that I'm not even sure where to start.

I remember when I was in high school, and I first started to realize that my mom was amazing. It occurred to me on nights when my friends would show up randomly for dinner, and my mom would never complain, just set an extra plate. See, we were the family that always ate dinner together, that always had a delicious meal on the table, so my friends who didn't have this? They came for dinner. Right after I graduated from high school, I started spending a lot of time with my friends, knowing I'd be leaving for Indiana University soon. One night, my friends and I were out late at a movie, so they all ended up crashing at my place. When my mom woke up the next morning to discover my friend Rachel sharing my room and THREE boys in the living room, did she get upset? No, she said, "I guess Erin had a sleepover," and proceeded to make us homemade blueberry pancakes and bacon. See, my mom knew we weren't up to anything bad, no drinking or sex or anything of the sort. She knew we were just being kids, and she embraced that. I knew right then that I wanted to be this mom, the safe haven who made blueberry pancakes.

My mom is a huge fan of The Birth Story on TLC. See, my mom saw an OB who supported natural childbirth (even in the 70s!), but due to my brother having the cord wrapped around his neck, my mom had a c-section. And since VBAC was unheard of at this time, my mom had c-sections with all of us. Yet, my mom loves to watch these birth shows, even though when I lived at home, I'd make faces at the sight of a baby being born. When I was 8 weeks pregnant, and we told my mom, my mom said, "Get a doula!" And we did, of course. When I asked my mom if she wanted to be in the delivery room when the baby was born, she shyly said, "If you want me to..." but I knew she wanted to be there, and she knew I wanted her there. And so she was, she and my dad both. When I was in labor with Luke, she sat up with me while Shane slept. She helped out, and when Luke was born, the first noise I heard was my mom cheering. My mom is not the mom who cries a lot, but when she called my sisters to tell them the news, she was speaking through tears. The day we got home from the hospital, my mom had put clean sheets on the bed (my water broke while in bed), and we were greeted by a clothesline of onesies above the front porch that spelled out, "IT'S A BOY!" When I had trouble nursing at first, my mom who breastfed all four of her kids (two were twins!) at a time when breastfeeding was frowned upon, gave me calm advice and let me know that it would get better. And my mom who breastfed me until I was almost two has never been anything but supportive of toddler nursing.

And today. Today, I pulled into the driveway after a long day of work. My parents watch Luke on Fridays. When I got out of my car, I realized that my mom had planted mums out front. And when I came inside, I realized that my mom had washed a load of cloth diapers for me. My mom is who she is not because she feels she like she has to be this person, but because this IS who she is. Because she is amazing, because she is beautiful, and because when she became a mom? She meant it.

Right after her 5th grandchild was born...

Our welcome home greeting