Thursday, June 14, 2012

fighting him off

So this past weekend I had a rough time of it.  The past few months have been rough I guess, on and off - understandably, right?  But I was in the muck this weekend.  My last post I didn't share on fb, I didn't want people really to see it, and yet I wanted to get it out.  Writing always help me feel better I think.

Come to find out I was PMSing.  Well.  That didn't help.  My cycle is not regular since the miscarriage.  Which I don't appreciate.

In addition, I have been thinking a bit about the possibility - probability - of Satan's demons messing with me.  I am losing a reader or two here, whatever.  I only have five anyway.

A few days ago, Bailey was feeling really ill.  It was a rough night - I prayed over her and layed with her for quite awhile, then went to bed myself.  I woke constantly, and every time I did I would just say, "please, God..." and be thankful she was still sleeping, which meant she was comfortable.  In the morning she was bright eyed and bushy tailed and said she felt great.

God did not have to answer my prayers for me to believe He exists, it wasn't something like that.  But I think I must have been kind of holding my breath or something - I can't explain it.  All I know is that if she awoke to the pain - or hadn't even have slept - that she experience the evening before, I would have been so discouraged.  But all of her ailments were gone.  AND, this week she found another 4 leaf clover.  She barely looks for them and finds them all the time.  Maybe fifteen she's found, and a few 5 leaf clovers.  I'm not kidding!  I take them to be a gift from God, because every time she finds one I feel like He's saying "I have her."  I don't know why, I just do.

So anyway, later that day, as I was thanking Him again that she was well and healthy, I just was overcome with this feeling that I have been fighting the wrong one.  I was praying saying I was so thankful, but still so hurt, so confused.  And something in me - the Spirit I take it - just came over me and I started yelling - in my car - GET AWAY FROM ME YOU DEMONS!!!  SATAN!  In the name of Jesus, Holy Jesus, GET AWAY FROM ME!!!!!!!!!!!!

I started crying, and I told God I just want Him back, I want to trust Him, and believe in His goodness. I felt so much better.

Anyway, if you did read that last post, I'm in a better place.

Friday, June 8, 2012

just being honest

Kevin's out.  Girls are asleep.  Ice cream has been eaten and I look at this computer screen through a fog of tears.  Feeling very alone.

I don't for a second think "Why me?" about losing my baby.  So many women go through that, and much, much worse.  So much worse that I can't even wrap my brain around it, let alone my heart.

But this loss has awakened in me a lot of questions, and I don't like it.  I loved having a faith that just was.  I didn't know the answers and I didn't have to.  Questions like, why do millions of children go hungry in this world when there is food to eat?  It must be awful to be a child and literally starve to death.  Whereas before I would think, people are not acting, it's not God it's people -- now I think, ok, I still think that, but how does God hear the cries of starving children and not answer?  And yet a further argument ensues in my head - how would He answer, just throw a loaf of bread down to the child?  But here's another one - how did God pick and choose who fell to their death on 9/11, and who was miraculously spared from getting on that ill-fated plane?  Can you imagine being a family member of a victim they never even found, so there was only your imagination to wonder what happened to your precious loved one, and hearing someone be interviewed and say, "God had plans for me, He saved my life!"  How does God decide which child he will spare and which He will bring home?  Is it favor?  Some people have an "in" with God and some don't?  Is it past generational sin, and we are just fated to a destiny that was of our ancestors making?  How does free will work, when we still pray to God to intervene?  A drunk man can hit someone, that person dies, and it was free will of the drunk man that led to  death.  But another drunk hits someone, who doesn't die, but is in a coma.  The family prays, begs.  The person lives and God is given the glory.  Miracle.  How does it work?  Is the second family favored?  Did God just relent, and go, "Ok, you prayed well enough.  Here you go, you're welcome." Or....Does the second person have a purpose left for this world but the first had fulfilled his?  Even as I write this, I am thinking, yup that's the answer...but it's still not giving me peace.  Please forgive my irreverence.  I hate that I am asking these questions.  But God knows my heart, so what's the point of hiding it?

Believe me, I am unhappy about this.  I LOVE believing in God.  Believing in His goodness and kindness.  His love that is unworldly.  A love that we can't begin to understand.  And that is what I am hoping will give me peace - that His love is just so amazing we can NOT UNDERSTAND IT.  Any part of it.  But that knowledge is not giving me peace, at least not yet.  I'm in pain.  Not just because of my lost baby, or the questions of the world that I'll never have the answers to.   I miss Him.  I miss feeling protected and wanted.  Loved.  I feel abandoned and lost, and I don't know why.  Maybe this is just something God's letting me go through to make me stronger.  

Such blessings I have in my life.  Everyday.  I am blessed everyday.  Please don't confuse my words.  I know what a wonderful life I have.  But this is my blog, and this is something I am working through, and I am just being honest.

This is what I want to have happen.  God, are you listening?  I want to believe.  I want to believe so deeply that I truly do give praise in the storm.  I am not giving praise in this storm, God, and I want to!! I want to know you have a purpose for me, for my family that is good and not death!  I want to feel you beside me, holding me up, not watching me as I fall.  I just don't understand Lord.  And I know I will never know why you gave to take away...but I want to feel peace in not knowing.  Please help me.

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

what married people with kids fight about

Most married people with kids, even within wonderful, loving marriages, fight about stuff they never would have dreamed pre-marriage/kids.

We had such a fight last night.

Now, within the confines of this blog - like, maybe Kevin will read it so I shouldn't share everything - some elements of the fight can't be shared.  Because it would make him look bad.  Not me, him.

Last night I got home from work and the kids were bathed and ready for bed.  I went into the bathroom and noticed that there were pieces of wet toilet paper sticking out of the tub drain and there was standing water.  So smart mom that I am realized 2 things - a girl had, for whatever reason, stuffed tp in the tub drain, and now we had a clog.

I tend to panic with home fix-it type of situations.  It doesn't matter if it's a major problem or a minor one, because chances are, my husband and I won't have a clue how to fix it.  We are NOT fix-it people, we are "quick!  Who do we know that knows stuff?!" people.  I panicked when my electric garage door wouldn't operate (I did realize, without hiring someone, that it just needed plugged in - minor).  I panicked when water flooded from the bathroom to our bedroom, dripping through the ceiling to downstairs (over $4000 later we had a redone bath - major).  So basically, in my mind, I immediately go to the what's-the-worst-that-can-happen and in this instance with the tp clogging the drain, I picture my back yard being dug up, trees having to come out and thousands of dollars (that we don't have) later being told, "Charmin's not good for your septic system, ma'am.  And toilet papers not supposed to go in the tub."

So as I start my panic, I realize Kevin's remaining calm and cavalier.  He had said he didn't know why there was tp in the tub but is that true?!  Why is he so calm when we may have to have a plumber rip through our pipes and yard?!   I may have, under my breath but loud enough for him to hear (a common married people with kids way of arguing) stated that I wished I had been home and not working so this wouldn't have happened.  That's when the floodgates opened.   It wasn't pretty.  Neighbors may have heard.

Bailey let me know when there was a break in our yelling that the reason why there was tp in there (previously girls had claimed innocence) was that in the tub she noticed Tate had a "rashy J."  So she gave Taylor toilet paper to wipe the rash off.  In the tub.

I may have muttered again (or yelled, I can't remember) that I wished I had been in the bathroom while they took their bath so I would've seen it, and where was Kevin?  He reminded me, not quietly, that I haven't watched them in the tub for quite awhile either.  Maybe a year or two.  (in my defense before you picture my kids drowning - remember they're 6 and 8, they swim laps underwater and jump off the high-dive, and I know they stay alive while bathing because I hear Ariel singing to Barbie.)

I took a break outside and when I came in, tucked in the girls and apologized for Mom and Dad yelling.  They were fine and Taylor promised she'd wipe out of water from now on.  Kevin tried to remedy the clog over the course of an hour with a bottle of Drano and pots of boiling water.  It was deemed fixed.  We apologized and got over it.

Taking a shower later that night, I deemed the clog not fixed, as water pooled at my feet.  I pictured the plumber again, and the bill I'd have to charge to pay.  I bent over, removed the drain, and pulled up a few gobs of wet tp.  The water magically flowed down the drain!!!!

I tried to not rub it in later when I told Kevin the clog was really fixed.

NOTE - Not my actual tub.  I know this because this tub looks expensive and luxurious.
Mine is a basic Home Depot model.  Also, this room looks spacious, and our one main bath is not.
This pic was taken from the Rural Glamour website, some lucky chic gets her bubbles and magazine time here.  I get mine with 2 little girls sitting on the toilet while I bathe, asking me questions like "Mommy, when you lay back why does your tummy stick out of the bubbles?" "Because, dear one, God made Mommy with a nice size tummy and if I filled the tub with enough water to cover it, the water would go through the over-flow drain.  And Mommy's scared of plumbers so she's careful of the over-flow drain.  Now be a lovey and get a towel for your Barbie that's gotten lodged between my butt cheeks.  Stop staring.  Thanks for taking a dump in here, 2 inches from my face, while I was having my "quiet" time.  And refill my glass with some of Mommy's special juice."  JK on that last part :)  I get my juice myself.

Saturday, June 2, 2012

hoping for hope

I have been in a weird place.  There are moments I have such joy, and moments I have such pain.  I'm not depressed - I'm fully functional and really, I do have happiness in my life.  But I am weary.  I find so many of my commitments draining.  I feel very far from God, which makes me deeply sad.  And looking for Him adds to my weariness.  And I have realized that so much of my problem is rooted in this - I am missing hope.  I have joy, I have love - my husband, girls, family and friends add such true life.  I am not hope-less, but a foundation of hope is not where it was.  And I want it back.

As I write, I am in Ocean City taking the night "off."  My mom is at a wedding so I came down with her to keep her company in the room, which is beautiful.  Right on the beach, right in the middle of the Jersey Shore life.  Wonderful weather and being here feels good.  But being alone forces me to think, which feels weird.  I don't like to think by myself too much these days, because I cry easily and I am sick of crying.  I'm a crier and so I am used to tears, but a heartsick kind of crying is different, and it feels awful.  It feels awful because there's no resolution to the heartache, I just miss my baby terribly and there's nothing I can do about it.

I am grateful for all I have.  I can't say it enough.  And I am grateful for this time with my mom, whom I adore.  You should see her, all dressed up in a cute orange dress with cute orange strappy shoes.  She's awesome.  But still, even in my gratitude, even in my moments of joy that I have every day with people that I love so much, I am weary and missing hope.

So I am hoping for hope.  Does that make any sense?