Big Sister, Chickens

Letters B and C in my ABC’s of survival

My first baby was only seven months old when she technically became a

big sister (letter B for big sister).

I am Irish and my second baby, Sammy, has red hair, so I’m calling them Irish twins no matter what you say.

They are 16 months apart and best friends.

You know who are also best friends?

Me and

chickens.

I’m kidding.

Chickens are not my pet of choice but I have grown fond(ish) of them for the love my family has for them.

Read on and let the world of big sisters and chickens enthrall you.

Here we goooo!

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B is for Big Sister

My first born baby girl, also known as big sister Lulu, has learned how to tell stories.

She’s only 2.5 years old and I’m not afraid to say she’s incredible. Her resume includes being the best big sister to her baby brother, Sammy (13 months old now), caring about every living creature, including the “two lizards I saw yesterday,” and bringing constant joy to everyone she meets, especially her parents, who have needed joy during some serious moments of the last two years.

Big sister Lucy is high on my list of how I have survived.

Adding storytelling to her repertoire is not surprising. From the she was born, we could see the curiosity in her eyes, and it only grew with time.

Here’s a snapshot of one of her recent stories:

Oreo the neighbor dog comes home:

This is where Oreo jumped the fence (points for effect).

Not this fence, that fence.

Her person said, “Oreooo!”

Oreo came back.

My daughter loves dogs, especially her pup, Moose Tracks.

Most of her stories though, are about her brother.

Lucy loves Sammy.

If anyone asks her about herself, she will tell them:

Lucy has a brother named Sammy.

Sammy has glasses.

Sammy’s doing okay.

Basically….Don’t ask me about me, ask me about Sammy.

God’s deep love for both Sammy and Lucy is evident in how He gave them each other.

I’ve written about Sammy a lot on here, and he is the reason I started this Substack, but for those who are new: we had quite a roller coaster ride for Sammy to get to where he is now.

Look at my brave boy now. Cordless! No feeding tube! No oxygen! Free to roam around the world like the beautiful baby he is.

“I’m freeeeeee”

We still can’t look at pictures of him from December; he was so sick. His heart was failing, again, unexpectedly, and there was no other choice but to take him back to Phoenix Children’s Hospital for the third time in two months. This sister rose to an occasion that she should never have to face, to be separated from her baby brother again…on Christmas. She was far more patient and brave than someone can ask of a 23 month old. She will always be one of my greatest heroes.

On Christmas Eve, we said good-bye to our warm house, our tree that daddy “cut,” and most of the gifts underneath the tree. Lulu, Moose, and sweet Memere piled in the car with me, while Sammy and daddy rode in an ambulance. We set out for the two hour drive late on Christmas Eve, when our babies were supposed to be nestled in their beds.

Lucy handled it so well, she rolled with every punch.

We made sure she still had fun in the hotel where we stayed, enjoyed time together with mom and dad, but someone was clearly missing. Sammy, who had to stay a block away in the hospital. My husband and I took turns with Sammy, and tried to explain the rules to Lu. Other kids, even sisters, were not allowed in the hospital, even on Christmas. We had to help keep the other kids and her brother safe.

Christmas came and went and we did a grandmother swap before New Years and then Sammy’s second open-heart surgery was scheduled two days before Big Sis turned two. Sammy made it through surgery like a champ, which was the best birthday gift for us all, but it was still plain hard.

We put a Happy Birthday sign in Sammy’s hospital room window and Lu went to the parking lot to see it on her birthday.

I’m sure there’s evidence in picture form of the sign, but excuse me while I’m crying over a camera roll filled with a little girl who somehow found magic in the roughest moments.

Birthday dress.

We’re grateful to Grandma for being there so we could give the birthday girl some two-year-old fun and take her out.

I think my favorite part of the day was when we went to the zoo and all Lucy wanted to see were the ducks in the pond. Simple things, anyone?

You’d never know she had to go through so many weeks without her brother as he recovered from surgery #2. She charmed the hotel staff, she played, she loved us and gave us hope. She didn’t have to be the joyful one, but that’s just Lu.

A pic from the other day; hair dancing in the wind captures the essence of my girl.

She’s growing up. Sammy’s growing stronger. We can now say, we’re six months out from surgery, this week (hi July!). Lu is six months older, sweeter, even more beautiful. Sammy is thriving, not just surviving, and a lot of that is due to the constant love of his BIG SISTER.

In light of the Oreo story, I’ll share a quick version of the best tale ever, as I see it through Lucy’s eyes.

Sammy comes home:

This is where Sammy went to the hospital.

Not that hospital room, this hospital room.

The one with my Happy Birthday sign in it.

Mommy and Daddy called to Sammy to come back with me.

They said “Saaaaaammmmy!”

Sammy came back.

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Sammy is our heart warrior, Lu is our brave firstborn. Why not just leave it at that. Why tell you the following story of Clucky, our chicken, when I don’t remember her all that well. I couldn’t pick her out of a chicken line-up, that’s for sure.

Why don’t I tell you she made it, that she out ran the coyote one more time. That she survived.

Because this is not fiction, and I am telling you the truth.

I could bend the truth and tell you that Clucky was lucky, but she was not.

At least, I didn’t think she was at the time.

Now, with everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve seen with Sammy, all the mysteries and graces and miracles I’ve witnessed, I guess she could still be out there somewhere. Unconstrained and free. I hope she is.

All I know is that she was always around, being a little wild and, well, annoying, until one day she was not.

I witnessed her escape from a coyote who tried to chase her in our backyard. Before I even realized there was a coyote running through our backyard, Clucky was on the roof. She would not go down like that.

Then she went missing.

It was a chaotic time with Sammy so I could not give too much attention to what happened to Clucky. We think a coyote finally got her. Like I said, if this was fiction, I could change the story and it would end with her great roof escapade.

I don’t know if I have any pictures of Clucky and it’s too late to ask my husband, who probably has some because he loves chickens. Instead, I’ll show you a picture of Gabby, who I said hello to today and actually visited for a minute. This is a big thing for me when currently two babies and a Moose are enough creatures to try and keep alive. I will not succumb to the drama of chickens!

However.

I surprised myself when I went voluntarily and by myself to say hi to Gabby today.

I like Gabby because she’s named after one of our NICU nurses. She’s also the only one of our newest chickens I can tell apart. We also have Minnie and Bluey.

For one minute today, one of them was missing.

Or I thought she was.

I was determined to look for her. I know how much Lu loves the chickens and how special it is for my husband that we finally have some more ‘Cluckys’ that hopefully won’t get eaten by coyotes.

I’m not sure if there’s a clear reason why chickens are on my survival list but I think it has something to do with vulnerability.

As much as I can be eternally hopeful and happy-go-lucky (not to be confused with happy-go-Clucky), I really did not care for seeing my son so sick so many times and with so many hospital visits on repeat. I will overemphasize that it was so.much.

We’ve been home now for a few months and the sting is wearing off, yet I wish no ill will on any creature, ever, after what we went through. Really. I can do without chickens a lot of the time but I would go on a hunt for you Minnie, or Bluey, or whoever you are.

There is an off chance Clucky is still roaming out there, but I know most chickens who keep going head-to-head with coyotes are not that lucky.

I know it wasn’t luck that helped us through, but for the sake of making a point: I know not every baby in our situation gets that lucky.

I want to remember Clucky and I want to remember that every day is a gift, whether you’re a chicken or a human, or some other magical creature.

It’s my own experience that is a constant reminder, sometimes screaming and sometimes whispering for me see life as magical and beautiful and divinely given. I can’t ask this of anyone who doesn’t wish to see it. But for me, it’s always there. Always reminding me, always teaching me. Darn you, Clucky, for teaching me a lesson.

I have to remember how my story goes, that it was without anything I could control or do on my own.

I have to keep telling myself I made it through.

I have to remember my own story, a story of hope, instead of giving into the fear that is always around the corner. I may struggle with fear, but it’s not the narrative that gets the final word.

You see, the real coyote in my story has always been fear.

Like my daughter who desperately wants me to see the fence that Oreo jumped over, my ABC’s show me glimpses into stories that happened, stories that shaped me, and stories that continue to renew me when I start to feel lost again, when I need to remember life is a long story, when I myself go missing, and when a different twist or way of looking at it all would have changed the ending: I would have been eaten by a coyote.

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Thanks for being here, friends, readers, subscribers. As you can tell, we’ve been climbing uphill for a couple of years. Thank you so much to all the paid subscribers who allow me to keep this going, and if anyone new feels led to join in, please know every little bit helps our family. I write in the dark of the night and margins because creativity matters. Perfection does not.

Please join me in sharing some of your stories in the comments. How do you keep going? I’m proud of you, and let’s walk it out together. <3