Beautiful Jewelry Giveaway!

A special piece of jewelry is one way to celebrate a loved one's memory or commemorate an important milestone. For instance, I wear a necklace almost every day that has Jack's favorite Bible verse on it.

Recently I came across the lovely Christine of No Way Out Jewelry, and she generously offered to have a giveaway here at An Inch of Gray.

Here are a few of my favorite pieces:

 I would love to have this necklace made with Jack's signature on it and a cross.

Isn't it neat how this necklace has a private message of hope tucked inside?

Aren't these bracelets great? Love.

Christine also has family tree items, baby items that feature the actual footprint of your baby, and more.

If you are looking for a special piece of jewelry for yourself or to give to a friend, No Way Out Jewelry has over 200 options!

In order to enter the giveaway, please visit Christine's etsy shop and see what she has to offer. Then, leave a comment here on this post letting me know what you would choose if you won! Also, please visit Christine's No Way Out Facebook Page. A "like" is not required, but is GREATLY appreciated.

(Contest starts at 12:01 am, June 29)

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The Other "A" Quilt

When I was a child, I seethed with jealousy about any advantage, real or imagined, that my sister had over me. Her long, straight blond hair mocked my poufy Dorothy Hamill cut. She was good at sports and socializing, when all I liked to do was read and clean closets. When it came to gifts, money, and my parents' attention, I spent a lot of time trying to make sure things were fair.

Each year the 13 cousins in the family would draw a name to exchange one "Cousin Gift." It was the highlight of Christmas, with gifts coming to Virginia from our cousins in Texas, Oregon, and Kenya. One year my cousin Emily drew my sister's name, and in mid-December it arrived-- a handmade quilt, each square depicting something that began with the letter "E"-- my sister's first initial. I marveled at my Aunt Bonnie's creativity and skill. I particularly enjoyed stroking the flocked fabric on the fuzzy EGG square.

Oh, how I loved that quilt!

I can't remember whether I griped about my lack of an "A for Anna" quilt, but I'm pretty sure I did, because one day my mother, who didn't like to sew at all, presented me with a quilt of my own. It didn't have the alphabet squares, or cute pictures appliqued on it, just a big A at the top made out of fabric to match the colorful bedroom Mom had created for my sister and me. I love how she didn't feel compelled to make me an exact replica of my sister's quilt. I wanted and A, so she gave me an A, darn it.

My mom loved me, complaints, drama, and all. She never made me feel like a pain in the neck, although I know I was sometimes, acting like a little martyr and a know-it-all. I love the quilt she made, and it has traveled with me from house to house over the 28 years since she has been gone. I'm glad I can still remember feeling loved by her, regardless of how I was acting. I hope my kids will one day be able to think back on undeserved, unexpected gifts I've given them, whether they are something physical like the quilt, or just a glimmer of grace on a really hard day. Today, June 27th,  would have been my mom's 75th birthday. Happy Birthday in Heaven, Mom.

And now, on to why this memory came up for me today. Aunt Bonnie, nearly 40 years after making that E quilt for my sister, made Andrew an amazing "A" Quilt. It is a treasure! You should see the tiny whisk made out of thread that goes with APRON, or the detail on the ARTICHOKE! ARROWS? AIRPLANE? ACORNS? AMERICA? Simply adorable. Here's a sample:

I can tell he's going to love it, too.

If You Give a Mom a Maxi Dress

If you give a mom a maxi dress, she might realize she needs a new strapless bra for it. If she orders a 6 pack of one-size-fits-all bras from Amazon for 19.99, she might not understand that the sizing does not apply to her enormous jugs. If she wears one of the bras and the maxi dress all day, she might wear it out to a party at night. If she's having a good time at the party, she might let good company and conversation distract her from a throbbing in her chest. If she is distracted from a throbbing in her chest, she might not realize the bra is cutting into her low-hanging boobs right where the milk ducts are, creating a formidable wall that no milk can breach. If no milk can pass out of her body, she might stay up all night in pain, pumping, praying, and cursing her life and her bra. If she stays up all night tending to her hard, misshapen balls of misery, she might be tired at her baby's baptism the next day. If she's tired at her baby's baptism, she might blearily look around at all the pretty ladies in their maxi dresses and wonder if she should buy another one.

If you give a mom a maxi dress...

Despite boob-trauma, Andrew's baptism was lovely. He didn't cry, which was a huge relief because he has been pretty fussy lately. I'm going to try dig up pics for you of Margaret and Jack in the same gown.

Godwink of the day: Andrew's baptism was exactly 17 years to the day after Jack's.

Would you like to watch his baptism here?

A Moment

Andrew loses his shizzle in the car.

Every. Single. Time

As a result, I haven't taken him anywhere except for church for the past several weeks. A two hour drive to West Virginia recently was just too much to bear, so I retreated to the living room couch, where I've made quite an indention in the cushion.  I realized yesterday that if I didn't try to venture out again soon, I could become a hermit, and my boo might never get used to the car. Oh, but what a terrible feeling it is to be driving while your wailing infant is in the back, out of reach of comfort.

Today, we ventured to Walmart, amid much screaming, in an attempt to pull the band-aid off.

Once inside the store, he calmed down and enjoyed looking around. I got a little cocky, quickly filling the cart, and even taking the two of us into the grungy family bathroom, so I wouldn't have an accident. Moments later, Andrew started screaming again, and we high-tailed it to the checkout. A friend happened to be in line behind me, so I felt a little more relaxed than if it had been a stranger.

As I pushed my cart to the car in the bright sun, holding Andrew under one arm, a stranger did approach. She quickly offered to help, loading the groceries into the back seat and taking the cart off my hands so I could get the baby cooled down. She could have criticized me for having him out in the heat-- his head was beet red from screaming by this point--  but she didn't. She just lent me a hand. I sat in the car for a while, nursing Andrew and thinking what a crazy journey this is. I mean it has been almost 15 years since I've done the front seat nursing thing! As he cooled down and calmed down, so did I. I changed his diaper and steeled myself for the stressful ride home.

He was a wreck within seconds, so I think I'll stick to the couch a while longer. Andrew seems happy here on my chest, Netflix is queued up to Call the Midwife, and this jumbo bag of Walmart trail mix won't eat itself.

1,000 Reasons

This is my 1,000th post on An Inch of Gray.

I suppose I could try to do a re-cap of the last 9 years, or make a "Best Of" list. But as I stand here at the kitchen counter, Andrew strapped to my chest, his gentle breathing in sync with my own, what I really want to do is say THANK YOU.

Life can be painfully lonely sometimes. I don't have a particularly difficult time making friends, but there are always blank spaces longing to be filled with love, understanding, and support. Rough edges call out to be smoothed with fresh perspective and empathy. And I don't care whether we are 5 years old on a mini soccer field, or 50 and making a scary life change, having someone cheering us on makes a real difference.

I have an embarrassment of riches in the cheering department because of you.

Some of you showed up long ago to read of my trash to treasure makeovers or funny little stories about parenting Jack and Margaret. Others came when the horrible news of Jack's death spread like wildfire throughout the blogging community. You could have refused to click over, wanting to shield yourself from the pain you knew you would find here. But you came to read, pray, and bear witness. You helped save my life. Some read Rare Bird and wanted to follow up and check on us, or perhaps to get a feel for where your own grief journey might lead, newcomers in a club no one ever wants to join. News of our miraculous God-gift of late in life pregnancy may have landed others here, not so long ago, because who doesn't like to hear of beauty from ashes and see a newborn's gassy smile?

This community amazes me, and I'm grateful for each of you.

I'm just a person who likes to make people laugh, although I know I sometimes make them cry. I enjoy picking up an idea, turning it around this way and that, exploring it with my words, wondering if my thoughts might connect with just one person out there. I like to be real, because being fake seems like it would be exhausting. I like to point my toes toward hope, and sometimes I find myself walking toward it and embracing it before I even know I'm moving.

Our world can be scary. There is a lot of hate out there. People tear each other down. Differences are magnified, hatreds fed and tended to until they flare up and consume.

I want to thank you for the love, for the real friendship and connection that absolutely can happen though a screen, and for being lights in my world, and THE world.

Blow Out

I've been meaning to share these photos with you. Andrew doesn't look that great, but Margaret looks adorable. You've got to see what happens when Andrew has an audible blowout while she's holding him!