Six Years of Super Wy

This boy. This beautiful single baby that graced us eight years into marriage has walked me through some of the darkest times of my life.  We first learned of his existence when I had just started my third school year as a working mom, when everyday as I left his brothers behind, my heart would break.  He was a tiny spark in the dark.  

At the time I wondered what in the world God was doing.  We were broke, living in a dumpy duplex, struggling to make ends meet with the two we had while Josh was in college.  But, as always, God knew exactly what he was doing.  

I was five months pregnant when I decided to go out on a limb, quit my job, cash in my retirement for us to live on, trusting God that Josh would find a job for the next fall so I could follow my dreams and be a stay-at-home mom.

Come August Josh hugged a squishy eight-week-old Wyatt goodbye, and took off to start our Alaska adventure.  (We joined him four months later when the teacher housing was complete.)  During our time apart, Wyatt was my constant companion, my sunshine, my buddy.

Fast forward four years, and we were living in Alaska, ready to add another baby to our family when I learned that I had miscarried.  (More miscarriage posts here, here, here and here.)  Then, after the new year, I miscarried again.  It was a very, very sad time for me.  Hopelessness was waiting to envelope me.  But this boy (and his brothers) needed me.  And that's all I needed to carry on. 

He has always been such a light in our family.  Making us laugh, keeping us wondering about life, and being adorable.  (I mean, look at these pictures!)

When Josh was gone again for the year I was pregnant with/giving birth to Carly, Wyatt and I leaned, hard, on each other, knowing we each knew how it felt to be "breaking apart" from Josh when he would leave.

Now, I feel like we are in a sweet spot.  We have Carly, our rainbow baby; we have Josh, our beloved Daddy; and we have a home where we all live together.  Instead of Wyatt carrying me through heart break, or me carrying Wyatt through heartbreak, we're together, enjoying the simple pleasures of our small, beautiful, family life.  Corn on the cob at dinner (his favorite), bedtime snuggles with Carly (also his favorite), and reading books together (my favorite).  We are so blessed.

Yesterday Wyatt turned six years old.  He is such a wise, old soul.  He's taught me so much about faith (If God takes your baby, and it goes to heaven, all the grandma's in heaven are there to take care of it); about kindness (it feels good in your heart too!) and about sloths (because, let's be real, sloths are cool. --and did you know? they can hold their breath for up to 45 minutes while swimming and they are faster in water than on land, so they prefer to move in water).  He keeps me on my toes always (Which end of the worm is the head? If a worm isn't an insect, what is it? What is a "universe"?), and is the most emotionally connected person in the household.  Jack had a consequence the other day and he sobbed for over thirty minutes about it, which made Wyatt come to me crying, trying to figure out ways to help cheer Jack up.  He is so empathetic.  I love that about him.  He also often cries when Carly is crying.  

He's growing up to be one fascinating, tender hearted, smart kid and I couldn't be more proud to call him my own.

***

Super Wy, 
I am so glad you're mine.  You are a treasure, a joy and the light of my life.  I am so grateful God knew I needed a Wyatt in my life.

Happy Birthday, buddy.

Love, Mom

The Thing About Alaska

Since moving to central Washington (and having a record amount of snow compared to recent years) everyone says  I must be used to it because we lived in Alaska. But here's the truth.

In Alaska I didn't have to function in the snow.  I didn't have to get the children geared up every morning, loading them in the car as it defrosted, scraping the windows and driving them to school.  I didn't have to grocery shop in the snow. I didn't have to get the mail in the snow. Anything I did in the snow in Alaska was because I wanted to. If I wanted to go out and play in it, we would gear up and go out. Otherwise, I had nothing to do with the snow. 

Here, I have to function. I have to get them to school, I have to run errands, I have to run our household. Snow or no snow, life goes on. Honestly, it's very different.

So while I'm grateful my face doesn't hurt when I go outside, 

functioning in the snow is a pain all it's own!

***

Leaving Rural Alaska

Josh packed for days and days and days on end.

Our Sleep Number bed, all packed up

The boys' room

Our room

Our bathroom

Our living room

Our dining room

Books for days...
from both Josh's classroom,
and our personal collection.

Our kitchen

The boys' playroom

Marshall, Alaska
The old airport & rock quarry to the left;
The village in the mid-upper left;
The road to the new airport running horizontally across the mid-upper right.
(Photo courtesy of Josh's old coworker)

Picking up Josh for the last time at the airport.
What a relief to be done with that!

And then the boxes started showing up in Washington!

---------------------

Our time in rural Alaska ended in the spring.  Our house there was left empty, our boxes (24 in total) shipped to us.  Josh beat them home by many weeks.  I have wanted to write this post for a while now, but I can't really put into words what our time in Alaska did for us.  It grew us and changed us in irreversible ways.  It was good and hard and wonderful and horrible.  I suffered debilitating anxiety & depression plus two miscarriages while living on the tundra, but I also rejoiced in being a stay-at-home mom, living in a brand new, beautiful house that I got to turn into a home, and was blessed to homeschool our twins for three years while we were there.  I met and loved and cherished more people than I can count from our time in Marshall, people that will forever be etched on our hearts.  Its confusing to say that some of our family's best times were spent in that village, and then in the same breath to say that it was time for us to leave that place, but that's how life is.

Our boys were ready for more, and our family was too.

We will forever look back on our time there fondly.  Attending Saturday Social every weekend, watching our three blue eyed boys play with a gym full of beautiful brown eyed children whom we had grown to love like our own; cozy Saturday nights spent watching movies with our boys, enjoying pizza Josh made from scratch; Friday night date nights, the boys tucked in their beds, Josh and I together on the couch relishing the quiet... So much family bonding, adventuring and learning.  It feels as if it were all a dream.  Kind of a far away time that has taken on a fuzzy quality.

How did we do it? How did we pack and travel and live like that? How did we manage without a hospital or grocery store? I don't know... but we did.  Somehow that way of life became normal and comfortable.  And I am forever indebted to the way we lived there.  Because now? Now I am grateful for the most trivial things: Consistent internet.  Sour cream.  Fresh fruit.  Walking the aisles of the grocery store.  I am grateful also for our backyard more than ever because of our time spent stuck within the four walls of our home in rural Alaska.  My friend Peter said that the best way to become grateful was to experience periods of deprivation followed by periods of abundance... I find this to be incredibly true. Both in terms of things (mainly food), and in terms of people (ie Josh).  I'm so happy to be living with him again after our year apart.  The small things, like him making the bed so I don't have to, or hugging me after a long day with the kids, bring gigantic bursts of joy, whereas before I don't know if they would have even registered.

When we were making the decision to leave Alaska, it was gut wrenching.  We felt confused and emotional and unsure.  The way I know that we made the right decision is that I am totally okay with being normal, cliche, boring now.  I don't care that we bought a house in a subdivision with a good school and that we plan on putting the boys in baseball and boy scouts.  I don't care that I'm a stereotypical stay-at-home mom who drives a minivan and makes cookies  for an after-school snack.  Settling into this new normal feels right.  I don't miss the adventure, the exoticness of that life.  It was a beautiful chapter for our family, one I will remember fondly, but it's a chapter that has closed.  And this new chapter? It's going to be just as great.

***

We The People

{Samuel & his fiance Tiffanie, me & Josh, Julie & Conrad}

{Blake, Milo, Roxanne & Logan}

{Grandpa's first selfie!}

{My very favorite lady, Grandma Pansy} 

{My sister, myself, my mom}

Summer is all about the people.  My mom, sister & grandparents; Josh's mom, sister & cousins; our many nephews... Not to mention all my friends.  I feel so lucky that I spent the last three months talking, laughing and enjoying the company of all my people.

As we prepare to say goodbye tomorrow morning,

I want to say to my loved ones:

*

In the past I tried to reconcile calling both Washington and Alaska home.  I have since discovered that home is not a place, it's a feeling.  And for me, that means I have two homes.  In May I came home, and tomorrow I go home.  How blessed I am.