Forgiveness is hard, wouldn't you say? I think it's because we can't forget. We can't just flip a switch and have a memory erased, as much as sometimes we wish to. So even though, in good circumstances, we want to forgive, and we even feel compassion, understanding, love and forgiveness...the memory still comes. Maybe because of the date on the calendar, maybe from a song playing on the radio, maybe as your mind wanders in the quiet still of the morning.
Forgiveness is hard. It's hard even under the best conditions - whoever has wronged you has asked for your forgiveness, and has asked to bless you going forward. The memory lingers, and the trust doesn't come easily and without question. It's work, and sacrifice. Forgiveness can even come and go...you feel liberated and loving, maybe even for long stretches of time. But then perhaps the memory comes, the anger and hurt flares, and you realize you need to go back to step 1, in order to forgive, again.
Forgiveness is crazy hard when the situation is worse...nobody wants your forgiveness, or the wrong is ongoing. Or the person has passed away and there will be little or no"closure".
No advice from my corner.
I think on God's perspective of forgiveness...how we sin every day in many ways, and He forgives us as soon as we whisper the words "please God..." from our lips. Yes, there may be consequences that could be far reaching even, from our words or actions, but God's heart is loving towards us and forgiveness is freely given.
But He is God and I am not, so it comes much harder for me.
As in all things though, I think forgiveness is a learning process, and perhaps one we will not master in this life. Maybe, but I don't know. Maybe some areas of hurt can be completely forgiven, with the memories never causing any pain again. Maybe the memories even change within the safety of our mind. For myself I am learning that just in all things, I do not need to be perfect here. I can struggle with forgiveness, and still love. My struggle brings me closer to God in a way, because I look up to Him in adoration for what He is capable of doing so selflessly. Does that make sense?
I am working through this area in my life. Forgiveness towards others and towards MYSELF. I have wronged myself, I have let myself down, I have made promises to me that I haven't kept. Let alone to others.
Forgiveness is hard. Not forgiving is harder. I'm working on it.
Friday, May 17, 2013
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
dragging feet
Why is it when we know exactly what to do, how to do it and how much we need to do it -- we still don't? I'm not the only one with this problem, or there would be very few smokers, rarely a chunky girl to be seen, and hardly any hardcore drug users and alcoholics.
Addiction.
I am anxious to see in the decades to follow how far researchers and doctors can come within this broad area of study. Isn't it fascinating? And terrible. Why is it that some people can drink a few cocktails, like myself, and enjoy them but then not pick up a drink for months with no desire whatsoever. But others, with that predisposition perhaps, to alcoholism can not stop...even losing their jobs, families, home, health, etc. That's a lot to lose!!! And yet they can't stop, not usually without medical and psychological intervention.
I have realized over the last several years that I have a mediocre addiction to food. I am not so addicted that I eat bags of something, or weigh 500lbs where my life is a DiscoveryHealth tv show. I haven't had Dr. Oz show up at my front door. But there's certainly an addiction here. A friend of mine and I made a joke about being holed up in a cabin with our "trainer" (I take an exercise class once a week with a girl who's one tough nugget...but sweet as pie...mmm...pie (Homer Simpson, I digress). Anyway, that would scare the jip out of me. Same goes with weight loss surgery - I am thankful it exists, I think it's life saving for many people. But I can't imagine not getting to eat some of my favorite dishes ever again.
If you have read my blog or know me at all, I make no bones about this area of my life. I could talk about it in front of a room full of strangers in fact. (Side note - I had a dream I was a public speaker and I LOVED it. Adding that to my list of "Somehow/Someway/Someday"). I get more embarrassment walking up to the beach in my tent of a cover up with skinny friends than I do writing on this blog for instance.
I know so many women are in my boat...and we want to get out...and we know HOW to get out...but it's SO hard.
The few times in my life I lost a chunk of weight something just clicked in my head and I just did it. Nothing could tempt me.
The last few months I have been making a few changes. Exercising more, eating just a tiny bit less. I've lost a few pounds but with MANY pounds to go, it can feel overwhelming. I keep trying to remind myself that even just one pound off is one pound off of my ass, my tummy or my chins for crying out loud.
But more than that, I have been trying to get at the root of why this is an area of need for me. Why is this such a struggle? I KNOW the blessings that would come from a healthier body and lifestyle - not to mention the example I would set for my girls!
I don't know the answer to that, but I commit today - just today - to pray for God's help to abstain from anything that's unhealthy for me and to exercise. String a bunch of "todays" together and improved health would surely result.
Addiction.
I am anxious to see in the decades to follow how far researchers and doctors can come within this broad area of study. Isn't it fascinating? And terrible. Why is it that some people can drink a few cocktails, like myself, and enjoy them but then not pick up a drink for months with no desire whatsoever. But others, with that predisposition perhaps, to alcoholism can not stop...even losing their jobs, families, home, health, etc. That's a lot to lose!!! And yet they can't stop, not usually without medical and psychological intervention.
I have realized over the last several years that I have a mediocre addiction to food. I am not so addicted that I eat bags of something, or weigh 500lbs where my life is a DiscoveryHealth tv show. I haven't had Dr. Oz show up at my front door. But there's certainly an addiction here. A friend of mine and I made a joke about being holed up in a cabin with our "trainer" (I take an exercise class once a week with a girl who's one tough nugget...but sweet as pie...mmm...pie (Homer Simpson, I digress). Anyway, that would scare the jip out of me. Same goes with weight loss surgery - I am thankful it exists, I think it's life saving for many people. But I can't imagine not getting to eat some of my favorite dishes ever again.
If you have read my blog or know me at all, I make no bones about this area of my life. I could talk about it in front of a room full of strangers in fact. (Side note - I had a dream I was a public speaker and I LOVED it. Adding that to my list of "Somehow/Someway/Someday"). I get more embarrassment walking up to the beach in my tent of a cover up with skinny friends than I do writing on this blog for instance.
 |
| Said coverup above. Hard to see because I'm hiding behind my children. |
I know so many women are in my boat...and we want to get out...and we know HOW to get out...but it's SO hard.
The few times in my life I lost a chunk of weight something just clicked in my head and I just did it. Nothing could tempt me.
The last few months I have been making a few changes. Exercising more, eating just a tiny bit less. I've lost a few pounds but with MANY pounds to go, it can feel overwhelming. I keep trying to remind myself that even just one pound off is one pound off of my ass, my tummy or my chins for crying out loud.
But more than that, I have been trying to get at the root of why this is an area of need for me. Why is this such a struggle? I KNOW the blessings that would come from a healthier body and lifestyle - not to mention the example I would set for my girls!
I don't know the answer to that, but I commit today - just today - to pray for God's help to abstain from anything that's unhealthy for me and to exercise. String a bunch of "todays" together and improved health would surely result.
Monday, May 13, 2013
surprising favors
Last night as Mother's Day came to a close, Kevin was kind enough to give me a backrub. Ahhhhhh. I love backrubs - who doesn't?! Ever since carrying Taylor, even with chiropractic care, my hips still ache sometimes at the end of the day and I think they're even a little misaligned. Not to mention the extra padding probably doesn't help. The rub felt so good. I ooohhed and ahhhed to positively affirm verbally how nice it felt in the hope that he wouldn't stop. Of course all good things must come to an end, and Kevin started to pull up the sheet to tuck me in. I said thank you and started to curl up on my side.
But he pulled the sheet back down and gave me another rub. For several more minutes!!! In all of our years, I don't remember ever getting a bonus, surprise rub!! Sure, I constantly ask, "just one more minute?!" but to be finished and then just give a whole additional rub?
I would not have done this.
So as I started to fall asleep last night, I thought about how good surprise gifts and unexpected favors feel. Truly, yes?
I have several goals this week. To finish filing papers. To coordinate visits and do paperwork for my job. Make doctor appointments, clean something (everything), cut coupons, make a week of healthy tasty meals. Care for my girls and Kevin. Chat with a few friends and exercise a few times. Lose 30 lbs.
Ok I wish.
Anyway, to my list I am adding "surprising favor." I don't know what I want to do and for whom, but it is on my heart how wonderful it is to receive something unexpected.
Have a good week friends, and may you receive a surprising favor!
But he pulled the sheet back down and gave me another rub. For several more minutes!!! In all of our years, I don't remember ever getting a bonus, surprise rub!! Sure, I constantly ask, "just one more minute?!" but to be finished and then just give a whole additional rub?
I would not have done this.
So as I started to fall asleep last night, I thought about how good surprise gifts and unexpected favors feel. Truly, yes?
I have several goals this week. To finish filing papers. To coordinate visits and do paperwork for my job. Make doctor appointments, clean something (everything), cut coupons, make a week of healthy tasty meals. Care for my girls and Kevin. Chat with a few friends and exercise a few times. Lose 30 lbs.
Ok I wish.
Anyway, to my list I am adding "surprising favor." I don't know what I want to do and for whom, but it is on my heart how wonderful it is to receive something unexpected.
Have a good week friends, and may you receive a surprising favor!
Friday, May 10, 2013
this mother
There's been a trend I've noticed, going around FB. At least on my FB feed. There have been really well written articles/blog posts from moms - and dads - that basically say, "Parenting young kids is really hard. We love them, but it is so hard. Don't be judgemental, don't tell me to enjoy every second, don't tell me this time when they're young is precious and don't tell me these years will go by in a blink."
As I said, these articles are really well written. They're humorous, they're TRUE, they're validating and they resonate with moms and dads everywhere that are in the thick of it - the years when little ones are little.
But I'm standing from a different viewpoint. My view is of two big brown eyed girls that with every week seem to somehow grow taller. My view looking down is of a girl who loves to snuggle me, and thank God still does, but her legs stretch long and hit the floor as she tries to curl up on me. We cling to each other, desperate to make the snuggle work, but uncurl arms and legs after only a few minutes because the puzzle pieces have changed. I stand, suggesting we lay on her bed instead and though she still asks to be carried, I make her walk or get on my back because I just can't lift her. Reading books we now sit side by side and most often, I am read to instead. I remember like yesterday picking them up in Sunday school and although we had only been apart an hour, they'd run to me yelling "Mommy!" and jump in my arms. I marveled at their joy of simply seeing me, and noticed that many children didn't scream, jump and run. They rarely do anymore - now they ask for a few more minutes and then take off with friends.
They are still young. They still wave to me from their seats on the bus in the morning, Tate blowing kisses and signing "I love you." They still love tuck-ins, back scratches as they watch a movie, going to playgrounds and the pool together, playing a game on the floor. They still color me pictures and leave me lovenotes. They are still young, they are still young. I tell myself this all the time.
Perhaps if we hadn't lost a baby last year I'd feel a bit differently. But as my view is changing, I can't help but feel my heart break a little as these young years wane. I can't explain exactly why, because YES I do remember how difficult those years were. I remember peeing with a child on my lap. I remember peeing without a child on my lap, only to emerge from the bathroom and find that one of them had gotten into my food coloring and emptied all tubes on herself and my kitchen. I remember vaccines, doctor appointments, "I wish I knew what is wrong!" I remember wanting to choke the Wiggles and yet thank them for entertaining my girls so I could clean, I remember my house never being clean, I remember feeling trapped within my house that we couldn't afford to do a thing to because I stayed home. I remembering begging God to PLEASE have her STOP CRYING, I remember begging God for sleep, I remember begging God that they wouldn't cry at MOPS so I could have a hot breakfast and talk with friends without kids climbing up my legs. I remember begging God that we could make it through the day. I remember.
But...I also remember little voices and little hands. Their trust in me, and that I was their world. I remember how it feels to nurse a baby and have them look up at you as they pull on your hair or squeeze your fingers. I remember story time at the library and Barnes and Noble. I remember standing at the bottom of the slide feeling such pride as the big girl (oh but so little and I didn't know it!) made her way down without her sister for the first time. I remember play dates and long phone calls with friends to help me make it through just a few more hours until Daddy gets home. I remember bouncing with a baby in a sunbonnet in the pool as she splashed her dimpled hands in the water, screeching with joy. I remember Bailey's phase of calling everyone "honey" or "sweetie" and how she'd hug and kiss everything, even garbage cans. I remember our first ride through Small World and that we had to ride it what felt like 10 times in a row every day while there in Disney. I remember Tate on Kevin's shoulders and Bailey on Poppy's as they saw fireworks above Cinderella's castle. I remember their awe, and it was pure magic just like the Disney commercials say. I remember.
If there's one thing I've learned from being a mother is that it's complicated. Just when you get the hang of one thing, something else pops up. You can feel 10 different ways all at once. Yes, I remember those hard years and there are things I don't miss about them. But so many things I do miss. I am so thankful my girls are growing, and truly very healthy considering Bailey's CF. But as I checked on them last night, both long in their beds, I wished to go back, just for a minute. I do wish I had done some things different. Played more on the floor, counted to ten before becoming unglued, cuddling for longer before sprinting out to my spot on the couch next to Kevin to watch television that didn't feature theme songs I couldn't get out of my head for days.
You see, it's all true. The articles that are loved by preschool parents everywhere, in agreement that these years are so hard and do not tell me I will miss this or I will hurt your face.
But I do miss this.
As I said, these articles are really well written. They're humorous, they're TRUE, they're validating and they resonate with moms and dads everywhere that are in the thick of it - the years when little ones are little.
But I'm standing from a different viewpoint. My view is of two big brown eyed girls that with every week seem to somehow grow taller. My view looking down is of a girl who loves to snuggle me, and thank God still does, but her legs stretch long and hit the floor as she tries to curl up on me. We cling to each other, desperate to make the snuggle work, but uncurl arms and legs after only a few minutes because the puzzle pieces have changed. I stand, suggesting we lay on her bed instead and though she still asks to be carried, I make her walk or get on my back because I just can't lift her. Reading books we now sit side by side and most often, I am read to instead. I remember like yesterday picking them up in Sunday school and although we had only been apart an hour, they'd run to me yelling "Mommy!" and jump in my arms. I marveled at their joy of simply seeing me, and noticed that many children didn't scream, jump and run. They rarely do anymore - now they ask for a few more minutes and then take off with friends.
They are still young. They still wave to me from their seats on the bus in the morning, Tate blowing kisses and signing "I love you." They still love tuck-ins, back scratches as they watch a movie, going to playgrounds and the pool together, playing a game on the floor. They still color me pictures and leave me lovenotes. They are still young, they are still young. I tell myself this all the time.
Perhaps if we hadn't lost a baby last year I'd feel a bit differently. But as my view is changing, I can't help but feel my heart break a little as these young years wane. I can't explain exactly why, because YES I do remember how difficult those years were. I remember peeing with a child on my lap. I remember peeing without a child on my lap, only to emerge from the bathroom and find that one of them had gotten into my food coloring and emptied all tubes on herself and my kitchen. I remember vaccines, doctor appointments, "I wish I knew what is wrong!" I remember wanting to choke the Wiggles and yet thank them for entertaining my girls so I could clean, I remember my house never being clean, I remember feeling trapped within my house that we couldn't afford to do a thing to because I stayed home. I remembering begging God to PLEASE have her STOP CRYING, I remember begging God for sleep, I remember begging God that they wouldn't cry at MOPS so I could have a hot breakfast and talk with friends without kids climbing up my legs. I remember begging God that we could make it through the day. I remember.
But...I also remember little voices and little hands. Their trust in me, and that I was their world. I remember how it feels to nurse a baby and have them look up at you as they pull on your hair or squeeze your fingers. I remember story time at the library and Barnes and Noble. I remember standing at the bottom of the slide feeling such pride as the big girl (oh but so little and I didn't know it!) made her way down without her sister for the first time. I remember play dates and long phone calls with friends to help me make it through just a few more hours until Daddy gets home. I remember bouncing with a baby in a sunbonnet in the pool as she splashed her dimpled hands in the water, screeching with joy. I remember Bailey's phase of calling everyone "honey" or "sweetie" and how she'd hug and kiss everything, even garbage cans. I remember our first ride through Small World and that we had to ride it what felt like 10 times in a row every day while there in Disney. I remember Tate on Kevin's shoulders and Bailey on Poppy's as they saw fireworks above Cinderella's castle. I remember their awe, and it was pure magic just like the Disney commercials say. I remember.
If there's one thing I've learned from being a mother is that it's complicated. Just when you get the hang of one thing, something else pops up. You can feel 10 different ways all at once. Yes, I remember those hard years and there are things I don't miss about them. But so many things I do miss. I am so thankful my girls are growing, and truly very healthy considering Bailey's CF. But as I checked on them last night, both long in their beds, I wished to go back, just for a minute. I do wish I had done some things different. Played more on the floor, counted to ten before becoming unglued, cuddling for longer before sprinting out to my spot on the couch next to Kevin to watch television that didn't feature theme songs I couldn't get out of my head for days.
You see, it's all true. The articles that are loved by preschool parents everywhere, in agreement that these years are so hard and do not tell me I will miss this or I will hurt your face.
But I do miss this.
EVEN THIS.
She needed me to hold her. She still needs me, but not like this.
So I guess what I'm saying is, forgive me and don't hurt my face when I look longingly at you as you hold a preschooler by the hand, even as she's trying to run the other way and you're also trying to juggle holding a diaper bag and a crying infant. Yes, I'm jealous of you even still. And I get that you're jealous of me, with my ability to earn some money again, have hot coffee and have time to myself. I get it.
So perhaps, I will try to remember harder how it feels to be sleep deprived, hungry for food not eaten over the sink, and thirsty for friendship that is unconditional. If you will try to remember that these years are precious, and they are a gift. Some women would give their right arm to be in your shoes.
Motherhood is hard.
The End.
Happy Mother's Day.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
hard won
If you know me, or know my kid Taylor, or used to read my blog back when...you know my 2nd daughter - aka Tater Tot or Tate - has SPD. Sensory Processing Disorder. She is 7, and was diagnosed at 3 years old after 3 years of WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS KID?! Seriously - an ENT, allergist, x-ray, numerous doctors and therapists didn't know. Some said nothing, some said autism (including one psychiatrist), some said she was just a mad girl...but mama knew. I knew she had something wrong, but everything that we were told just wasn't "it." After a free seminar about sensory disorders, BAM, here we go. I found the seminar, at Sensational Kids right here in Marlton, after googling "behavioral help for toddlers." I listened to a woman describe kids that were just like Taylor and as I cried tears of gratitude that "it" had a name, I remember feeling overwhelmed, scared, thankful, sad. All I wanted was for my kid to be happy and healthy. I wanted her to have friends, be kind and gentle hearted, love God and serve others. I wanted her to marry and have children and let me babysit and sometimes we could leave the kids with their dad and go shopping. Sitting at that seminar, I didn't get that far ahead but I felt like my heart - which had been hanging in limbo kind of waiting for her to snap out of it I guess - broke a little. I wondered what this meant for Taylor.
If you're not following along because of the million different emotions I was feeling at one time - well, what can I say. I'm a woman and I'm a mother. Welcome to complicated.
Anyway, fast forward through 2 years of special education preschool, private therapy and therapy in school, fast forward through special ed kindergarten and an inclusion class for first grade, fast forward through teachers and therapists that I will forever be indebted to and love, fast forward through a sensory "diet", hours of prayer and teaching Taylor "the long way" how to love others and be compassionate, patient and sweet...fast forward and here we are.
She rocks my world, friends. Rocks it. If you know her, you know what I mean. If you don't know her, you're missing something amazing.
Last night as I tucked Taylor in - which used to involve brushing her body with a special brush to desensitize her and singing her no less than 11 lullabies (seriously, in the same order every time) to calm her - my baby, my Tater Tot, clutched my arm and said, "You're a good mother" as she looked into my eyes.
Today, at the aquarium for a class trip (which previously she would have been totally stressed over with the noise, smell, different routine etc) she skipped with the other kids and held her best friend's hand. She ate at the table and offered to share.
These moments are hard won. These moments are precious.
These moments make the other moments - and of course there are still the OTHER moments - worth it.
If you're not following along because of the million different emotions I was feeling at one time - well, what can I say. I'm a woman and I'm a mother. Welcome to complicated.
Anyway, fast forward through 2 years of special education preschool, private therapy and therapy in school, fast forward through special ed kindergarten and an inclusion class for first grade, fast forward through teachers and therapists that I will forever be indebted to and love, fast forward through a sensory "diet", hours of prayer and teaching Taylor "the long way" how to love others and be compassionate, patient and sweet...fast forward and here we are.
She rocks my world, friends. Rocks it. If you know her, you know what I mean. If you don't know her, you're missing something amazing.
Last night as I tucked Taylor in - which used to involve brushing her body with a special brush to desensitize her and singing her no less than 11 lullabies (seriously, in the same order every time) to calm her - my baby, my Tater Tot, clutched my arm and said, "You're a good mother" as she looked into my eyes.
Today, at the aquarium for a class trip (which previously she would have been totally stressed over with the noise, smell, different routine etc) she skipped with the other kids and held her best friend's hand. She ate at the table and offered to share.
These moments are hard won. These moments are precious.
These moments make the other moments - and of course there are still the OTHER moments - worth it.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
cutting comparisons
I don't know about you, but I tend to compare myself to others, I would say daily. Perhaps several times a day. It may be as early as seeing my husband run down the street as I sip my coffee, wondering if I'll ever get myself out there like that. Or maybe as I pack my kids lunches, staring down at the cheese stick, yogurt and sandwich, thinking of my good friend who packs lunches full of veggies and fruits and creative things like turkey pinwheels with sprouts of some sort.
As my day continues, I'll see women who are thin and fit, well dressed, hair done and makeup beautifully applied. And no, these women aren't on tv, they are at school and church.
At work as I take notes long hand, again I lament that I will do my report later on my husband's computer, as we have not yet had the money for me to buy my desired Ipad. As I drive home from work, I will perhaps notice the well-kept lawns and bigger, beautiful homes.
Ten minutes after my kids get home from school, maybe I will yell that I WILL CHOOSE THE SNACK AND SHOW SINCE THEY CAN'T AGREE ON ANYTHING, and my mind will flash with a picture of a mom I know, who abhors yelling and as far as I know, has never done it.
I put dinner on the table for my girls, waiting to eat until later with Kevin. I am reminded that eating at the table as a family is best, and I sigh. I sigh again, as my children beg me to not make them eat the gross, smelly, disgusting singular carrot or broccoli spear on their plate.
As I lay my head on my pillow, whispering a note of thanks to God for a day with our needs met, love in our hearts and continued health, I say my prayer with a feeling of guilt that I did not give more of my day to Him. I think on the author of the book study I am currently behind in, and remember her words of encouragement to spend time everyday reading the Word and in prayer. I remember her sharing how she gave up tv, as she felt it kept her from time with the Lord and distracted her. I turn on King of Queens and fall asleep.
Yes, I compare myself to others all-the-time. Try as I might to silence that pesky voice in my head, without me even realizing it, I know she pipes up every day. "You're so fat, look at how pretty your friend is." "Going to the store for produce with pesticides while so-and-so grows her own AND her family eats all of it without complaining that it's gross and disgusting." "They have such a nice marriage..."
But. Someone may be comparing herself or family to me. What?! But it's true. And you, my friend, do you compare yourself to others too? I can guarantee someone is also thinking parts of your grass are greener. Maybe not the whole yard, but the nice garden in the corner, or your lovely tree out back.
I am not perfect, nor will I ever be. Even if I do tackle some of my challenges and my own grass gets a little greener, there will always be some dead patches.
Today I am grateful for who I am, what I have, and my little yard that needs a lot of work. Because it's mine and was given to me.
Look at your own yard through sharper glasses my friends. Chances are you have lovely, thriving trees that your neighbor wishes they had. Like me. I could really use a dogwood tree and a veggie garden.
Ah, but no child in this house would eat anything from it. I'll stick with my dandelions.
As my day continues, I'll see women who are thin and fit, well dressed, hair done and makeup beautifully applied. And no, these women aren't on tv, they are at school and church.
At work as I take notes long hand, again I lament that I will do my report later on my husband's computer, as we have not yet had the money for me to buy my desired Ipad. As I drive home from work, I will perhaps notice the well-kept lawns and bigger, beautiful homes.
Ten minutes after my kids get home from school, maybe I will yell that I WILL CHOOSE THE SNACK AND SHOW SINCE THEY CAN'T AGREE ON ANYTHING, and my mind will flash with a picture of a mom I know, who abhors yelling and as far as I know, has never done it.
I put dinner on the table for my girls, waiting to eat until later with Kevin. I am reminded that eating at the table as a family is best, and I sigh. I sigh again, as my children beg me to not make them eat the gross, smelly, disgusting singular carrot or broccoli spear on their plate.
As I lay my head on my pillow, whispering a note of thanks to God for a day with our needs met, love in our hearts and continued health, I say my prayer with a feeling of guilt that I did not give more of my day to Him. I think on the author of the book study I am currently behind in, and remember her words of encouragement to spend time everyday reading the Word and in prayer. I remember her sharing how she gave up tv, as she felt it kept her from time with the Lord and distracted her. I turn on King of Queens and fall asleep.
Yes, I compare myself to others all-the-time. Try as I might to silence that pesky voice in my head, without me even realizing it, I know she pipes up every day. "You're so fat, look at how pretty your friend is." "Going to the store for produce with pesticides while so-and-so grows her own AND her family eats all of it without complaining that it's gross and disgusting." "They have such a nice marriage..."
But. Someone may be comparing herself or family to me. What?! But it's true. And you, my friend, do you compare yourself to others too? I can guarantee someone is also thinking parts of your grass are greener. Maybe not the whole yard, but the nice garden in the corner, or your lovely tree out back.
I am not perfect, nor will I ever be. Even if I do tackle some of my challenges and my own grass gets a little greener, there will always be some dead patches.
Today I am grateful for who I am, what I have, and my little yard that needs a lot of work. Because it's mine and was given to me.
Look at your own yard through sharper glasses my friends. Chances are you have lovely, thriving trees that your neighbor wishes they had. Like me. I could really use a dogwood tree and a veggie garden.
Ah, but no child in this house would eat anything from it. I'll stick with my dandelions.
Monday, April 15, 2013
one year later
As I write this I am watching "The Talk" on daytime tv to kind of take my mind off of my emotions. However, the guest on the show is a woman dying of cancer, so there goes that, I'm crying anyway.
One year ago we lost our baby, and because I wrote a few posts about what that experience was like I thought I'd update. 2012 SUCKED. There's no other way to put it. Not just because of losing the baby, but other things happened as well. The year went out with a bang, my mom breaking her leg and then having Hurricane Sandy rip through her house and neighborhood. So much stress permeated our every-day. We tried to keep humming because of the children, and I think that if we did not have our 2 sweet girls, we'd be in a much worse place right now. The girls made us not just keep getting out of bed in the morning, but forced us to find joy wherever we could. On New Years I don't think I've ever been more excited for the calendar to flip. 2013 is proving to be much, much better.
On April 12, 2012 - Kevin's birthday - we found out the baby had died. I had gone to the doctor because of severe cramping and spotting. I miscarried naturally over the next four days and April 16 to me is the date I will keep in my heart as the day our precious surprise baby left us. I don't want to always affiliate Kevin's birthday with such a sad day in our family. Although I guess I always will. On April 16 I was home alone, and I wanted to be alone. Kevin didn't know whether or not to work but time is money and I was tired of the sad look everyone was giving me. I was thankful for the empathy and love, but tired of the sadness.
The cramps had mostly subsided by that day, and I thought the miscarriage was over and now I would just bleed. I thought the worst of it had happened 2 days before. But the cramps came back with a vengeance and I felt an urge to push and I knew then it was finally really over. I sat in my bathroom and cried my eyes out. It is traumatic to be sure, seeing what only looks like huge clots of blood in the toilet and wonder if you should take it out and try to look for your baby. Perhaps you winced at that sentence, but I am telling it like it is folks. I decided not to have a D&C, and a few times I have regretted it. One reason is sometimes I wish I could have known what caused this - did the baby have something wrong? But then at times I am glad I don't know, for if they found nothing wrong I surely would blame myself, more than I already do. Also sometimes I wish we could know if it was a boy or girl - even though we call the baby "Baby Collin" and believe it was a boy. Sometimes I'm so thankful I don't know. Also, that memory for me of finally flushing that toilet revisits me often and it can make me shake with grief...sometimes I wish I didn't have that memory.
But I do, and here I am a year later and I am really doing ok. I still cry, my girls still cry, Kevin still cries. It is painful to hold babies, it is painful to think about how old our baby would be, it is painful taking pictures of our family because I feel like one is missing. But life is still good. My girls bring me so much joy, it is impossible to convey how thankful for them I am. My relationship with Kevin, while going through our first very difficult season of marriage last year, has improved and I am once again taking deep joy in our time together. We laugh a lot, and I am so SO happy to have the laughter back. I am also happy to have chosen to return to God, for I left His side for a while. But as God does, He followed me and kept tapping me on the shoulder until I turned around.
One foot in front of the other. I will always look back on those weeks that we were expecting our third baby fondly. I will also always look back with deep pain. Several months ago a wise friend told me that I will always have grief, because I love our baby, and the baby is a part of me that is gone. And so I will grieve, because I will always miss what I love, that is not here for me to have and to hold. Taylor said the other day she just wishes she could see what his eyes look like and it's hard waiting until Heaven. Those moments make my heart actually hurt. Bailey and I sat last week and cried for quite awhile mourning the loss of Baby Collin. She would have been such a good big sister to him. And I am sad that we did not get to see what Taylor would have been like as a big sis...and when Taylor gets mad that she was robbed that opportunity I remind her how she prayed for him when he was in my tummy, and he knew she was there. My girls amaze me with their depth of understanding and sweetness concerning this baby and the loss.
To all who loved me up during the weeks following the miscarriage, thank you. The flowers, cards, meals, groceries, phone calls, prayers and love...I won't forget it.
No it's not easy sometimes but the good times far outweigh the bad and I am so thankful every day for my many blessings. Thanks for reading. xo
One year ago we lost our baby, and because I wrote a few posts about what that experience was like I thought I'd update. 2012 SUCKED. There's no other way to put it. Not just because of losing the baby, but other things happened as well. The year went out with a bang, my mom breaking her leg and then having Hurricane Sandy rip through her house and neighborhood. So much stress permeated our every-day. We tried to keep humming because of the children, and I think that if we did not have our 2 sweet girls, we'd be in a much worse place right now. The girls made us not just keep getting out of bed in the morning, but forced us to find joy wherever we could. On New Years I don't think I've ever been more excited for the calendar to flip. 2013 is proving to be much, much better.
On April 12, 2012 - Kevin's birthday - we found out the baby had died. I had gone to the doctor because of severe cramping and spotting. I miscarried naturally over the next four days and April 16 to me is the date I will keep in my heart as the day our precious surprise baby left us. I don't want to always affiliate Kevin's birthday with such a sad day in our family. Although I guess I always will. On April 16 I was home alone, and I wanted to be alone. Kevin didn't know whether or not to work but time is money and I was tired of the sad look everyone was giving me. I was thankful for the empathy and love, but tired of the sadness.
The cramps had mostly subsided by that day, and I thought the miscarriage was over and now I would just bleed. I thought the worst of it had happened 2 days before. But the cramps came back with a vengeance and I felt an urge to push and I knew then it was finally really over. I sat in my bathroom and cried my eyes out. It is traumatic to be sure, seeing what only looks like huge clots of blood in the toilet and wonder if you should take it out and try to look for your baby. Perhaps you winced at that sentence, but I am telling it like it is folks. I decided not to have a D&C, and a few times I have regretted it. One reason is sometimes I wish I could have known what caused this - did the baby have something wrong? But then at times I am glad I don't know, for if they found nothing wrong I surely would blame myself, more than I already do. Also sometimes I wish we could know if it was a boy or girl - even though we call the baby "Baby Collin" and believe it was a boy. Sometimes I'm so thankful I don't know. Also, that memory for me of finally flushing that toilet revisits me often and it can make me shake with grief...sometimes I wish I didn't have that memory.
But I do, and here I am a year later and I am really doing ok. I still cry, my girls still cry, Kevin still cries. It is painful to hold babies, it is painful to think about how old our baby would be, it is painful taking pictures of our family because I feel like one is missing. But life is still good. My girls bring me so much joy, it is impossible to convey how thankful for them I am. My relationship with Kevin, while going through our first very difficult season of marriage last year, has improved and I am once again taking deep joy in our time together. We laugh a lot, and I am so SO happy to have the laughter back. I am also happy to have chosen to return to God, for I left His side for a while. But as God does, He followed me and kept tapping me on the shoulder until I turned around.
One foot in front of the other. I will always look back on those weeks that we were expecting our third baby fondly. I will also always look back with deep pain. Several months ago a wise friend told me that I will always have grief, because I love our baby, and the baby is a part of me that is gone. And so I will grieve, because I will always miss what I love, that is not here for me to have and to hold. Taylor said the other day she just wishes she could see what his eyes look like and it's hard waiting until Heaven. Those moments make my heart actually hurt. Bailey and I sat last week and cried for quite awhile mourning the loss of Baby Collin. She would have been such a good big sister to him. And I am sad that we did not get to see what Taylor would have been like as a big sis...and when Taylor gets mad that she was robbed that opportunity I remind her how she prayed for him when he was in my tummy, and he knew she was there. My girls amaze me with their depth of understanding and sweetness concerning this baby and the loss.
To all who loved me up during the weeks following the miscarriage, thank you. The flowers, cards, meals, groceries, phone calls, prayers and love...I won't forget it.
No it's not easy sometimes but the good times far outweigh the bad and I am so thankful every day for my many blessings. Thanks for reading. xo
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