Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Musings of a Guilty Mother

I'm guilty.

I'm completely and utterly guilty.

As a mother...

I'm guilty of losing my patience, yelling, complaining, pushing my own agenda on my children, wishing they would just sleep and leave me alone...

I'm also guilty of loving my children with a ferocity that only motherhood birthed.  I'm guilty of having an innate need to protect them from harm and lead them to know the Truth.

My children have changed my life.

I'm no longer able to go out with friends whenever I'd like, or even my husband for that matter.  I can't go sit in a coffee shop and relax while people watching.
I'm no longer able to get up in the morning, before I talk to anyone, and have the quiet solitude that my personality thrives on.  I don't always get the luxury of a shower every day.  I'm always tired.  I can never seem to catch up to all of the work that needs to be done.

I'm not able to live the life I once did.


I wake up to coos and calls for mommy.  The highlight of my day is gazing into my children's eyes and hearing them laugh.  I play with dolls and toys that move and light up.  I'm often cleaning up bodily fluids and wearing them, too.  I watch purple dinosaurs and princesses on television.  I read stories about going potty and how to share.  I often have a baby strapped to me and spend my days and nights feeding and cuddling with her.  I reheat my coffee 3 times in the morning, because I'm kissing boo-boos, rocking a little one and squeezing in housework.

I try to teach lessons I often feel I fail at myself.  I apologize to my 2 year old almost every day for my failures and pray with her daily that we would both learn to love one another better.

I'm guilty of being human-of having a sin nature.  And I want my daughters to know that none of us are perfect, but we don't have to be.  We serve the God that is our perfection.  I want them to see a mother that will fail miserably, but repent, to God and to them, and keep pressing on so that Christ's transforming power is evident to them.

I look at them, and it astounds me.  It astounds me that I had something to do with their existence.  God allowed me, an immensely flawed and sinful person, to be a part of the creation of two of the most precious beings I've ever laid eyes on.  Granted, there are days when all I want to do is sit in that coffee shop by myself, but overall, I can't help but give God the glory for the immense mercy he gives me.  And even beyond.  He uses the fire of circumstances and people, good and bad, to refine me.

I can't help but be grateful tonight.  For the way my life has turned out.   I can't help but praise the God that I continue to learn about.  My God.  Jesus Christ.  The one and only Son and maker of all.

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

Holding a Dream

I'm holding a dream.

When I look down at her,
I see hope manifest-
I see prayers I can touch.
I see my daughter.

Her little fingers and toes-
Her eyes and her nose,
Perfectly formed
by God's own hand-
Masterfully molded
where once there was naught,
Created, designed
in the midst of loss.

She is His handiwork,
a being like no other.
Sent by God in his timing
to help heal this mother.

She is a light
that shines brighter than most;
For hope is more radiant
The greater the cost.

God is so good,
and merciful and kind.
This child is his,
Not mine.

Yet, he entrusts me
with this most precious gift,
To love and teach her
who He is.

My heart is full
as I reflect,
on the journey we've traveled
to sit where we sit.

Surrounded by graciousness,
Prayer and support-
Our baby girl
is a product of love.

Dear God above,
we give thanks.
For you are magnificent,
and greatly to be praised!

Wednesday, April 22, 2015

How we Named Our Rainbow Baby

Just months ago, I was unsure that this pregnancy would progress to the point that it is now.  But here I sit...typing over an 8 month pregnant belly.  Thanks be to God.

Once we knew the gender, I immediately started researching names.  I really wanted this name to reflect what this little girl means to us.  I wanted it to be a reminder of the hope that can still be possible after devastating loss as we had miscarried just one month before becoming pregnant with her and thought we were going to lose her several times.

I've always liked the name Lydia.  I knew that she was mentioned in the Bible.  I knew that she was a woman who was most likely very smart and a business woman in her day.  She heard the Gospel, and the holy spirit changed her.  She shared it with everyone she knew, and the news of a Savior spread even further because of her belief.  She was also known for her hospitality towards the apostles and believers.

I looked up some other meanings.  I found two very contrasting definitions.

Lydia means travail-strife, heartache, agony, labor.  It also means beauty or light.  I thought this very fitting.

This little girl was conceived at perhaps one of the most stormy and dark periods of our lives.  Her life, a beautiful light, braved the storm.  Though the circumstances were dire, God saw fit that she should enter our lives becoming the unexpected rainbow in the midst of darkness.  Just like the rainbows we see in the sky, she seemed to come out of nowhere when we were still cowering from the storm.  And sometimes, it seems that something so gorgeous just can't be real.

She is a miracle of God.  He healed my womb.  He kept her safe and healthy.  She has already given so many hope before she is even born.  God has already determined that her life is one that others will know, and in turn, know him. 

We chose Elise for her middle name.  This means oath or promise of God.  How fitting as God made the rainbow a sign of promise in the Old Testament after the worst storm in history.  It reminds me of the hope God gives us.  We have life because of death.  

And it's the same with this little girl.  Though our other baby died, life still followed.  And we believe that baby is in heaven with Jesus experiencing life that we have yet to taste.

I thank God for every day with Lydia.  For every elbow in my rib and hiccup in the middle of the night.  I know she is a gift that I am astounded God is entrusting us to parent.

Thank you all for your support and prayers.  It means so much to feel your love.  We're almost there!

Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Why I'll Never Trust my Dog around my Child Again

We adopted Bailey from the Humane Society 6 months after we married.  We had been every week for several month looking at the dogs.  We would watch them, analyze them and go outside to see how they reacted to us.  This was our first big decision as a married couple.

When we saw a litter of hound mix puppies, we fell in love.  They were so cute with their floppy little ears and extra folds of skin.  We had it narrowed down to a brown one and tri-color pup.  We decided on the little guy with the black face, brown eyebrows and black and white body.  He had come up to us sniffing in a curious, sweet way.

The cutest pup in the litter.
The next week we went to pick him up after he had been neutered.  The poor little guy was still groggy from the medicine.  Eric cradled him carrying him to the car to take him home while I went to work.  He was the cutest little 3 month old puppy we had ever seen.

 After that, he was like our child.  We took him to ride in the car with us to run errands letting him hang our the window with his ears flapping in the wind.  We taught him how to do tricks and got up every 3-4 hours to let him out while potty training.

Neither one of us had ever had a dog that was so obedient and sweet.  He tried to console us when we were upset, snuggled with us on the couch and wanted to please us in every way, it seemed.
Now, I'm nervous looking at this picture.

Five years later, we brought home our daughter from the hospital.  We followed all of the guidelines you read about letting him adjust to her and keeping a watchful eye.  After a week or so, he seemed adjusted-sleepy, but adjusted to having a little human around.  As she started talking, "Bay" (short for Bailey) was one of her first words.  She would ask where he was, call for him, she fed him under our supervision, and she gave him commands that he listened to...

That's why what happened a few weeks ago shocked us beyond belief.

It was a Saturday evening, and we had just finished dinner. The kitchen and living room are closed off from one another.  We had moved from the kitchen after cleaning up and turning the light off to the living room.  We were letting our almost 2 year old daughter play before bath time.

Sitting on the couch watching her play with her tea set, she saw us give each other a kiss.  She wanted to give us kisses and then asked to give Bailey kisses.  We told her she could, and she proceeded to go find him.  About a minute passed with silence.  And then we heard a growl and snap from kitchen.
We ran in to find, in horror, that Bailey had bit the side of her face.  He had been getting into the trash, and he reacted when she tried to grab him and kiss him.  At first we thought it superficial, but then saw his teeth had penetrated her precious, perfect skin in three places.  Not knowing the extent of the injury, we quickly scooped her up, threw on some shoes and ran to the car.  It was terribly cold and had been snowing all day.  The ride to the emergency room was a slippery one.

We went into the ER and immediately got a room.  We waited an hour or so for the doctor to assess the damage.  She needed stitches, and since we knew our dog had his shots, she didn't need any vaccinations.

It was over 3 hours before the doctor came in with two nurses, a long board with straps to hold her, and the supplies needed.  She did amazingly well, not squirming at all.  My stomach sank when the doctor inserted the needle into my baby's face.  I turned my head into my husband's chest and held back the tears.  She got 5 stitches overall.

When I asked about scarring, the doctor stated he was most concerned about infection.  Of course, this was my first concern.  However, I didn't want my little girl to have a dog bite scar at the age of one.  I didn't want my precious baby's face to bear the scar of something that was avoidable.

Maybe it was kind of selfish, too.  I also didn't want to explain to people that our dog did this to her. Not because I am embarrassed...because it's heartbreaking on multiple levels.  The dog we love could have seriously injured our baby girl.

We proceeded home with an antibiotic and finally got her to bed around midnight.  Our snowy evening turned into a scary night out-at the last place you want to be with your child.

She started healing very well that next week with three bandages on her cheek.  She wasn't afraid of Bailey when we got home, but wary of him.  And I'm glad she has learned to stay away from his face.

I was so angry at him.  Not only did he hurt my baby, he changed my view of him.  I couldn't look at him for days, and probably said some things to him that I wouldn't want others to hear.

But I think we needed to change how we treated him.

I look back now and see our mistakes.

He is a dog.  Not a human.  We never should have treated him that way.  We never should have assumed he would never do anything to our child, because he's still a dog.  He still has innate instincts.

He was in the trash knowing he wasn't supposed to be.  He was in the dark.  His back was turned, and a small child, much like a small animal, got close to his face while he was devouring something coveted.

We didn't see it, but I'm sure knowing him, he abstained from snapping as long as he could.  She probably tried to kiss him and he moved his head, and then she tried again.

He did what I think any dog would do.

Since then, she knows not to get close to his face.  He isn't allowed in our kitchen when food is present or anywhere near our daughter if she has food.

Some have asked if we're going to get rid of Bailey.  Well, the thought has crossed our minds.  But then I think, how can we fault him for something we chose?  We chose to treat him more like a human than a dog.  We chose to let our daughter invade his space by giving him kisses.  We weren't remembering he is still an animal.

My sweet girl with her bandages.
I get emotional when people ask what happened.  When they see the bandages, they usually get this surprised look on their face and say something like, "Oh no!  What happened?"  I try to just say she got a boo-boo, but that doesn't suffice usually.  And when we say it was our dog, people always ask what kind of dog and tell stories of malicious dogs they know that have hurt children.

But that isn't what happened here at all, and it's even worse to have to try to explain and defend our dog.  No, our dog is not vicious whatsoever. He is a really good dog that did something instinctual. And yes, we still love him, but we do treat him differently.

I can't go back in time and change things, but I can write this so that other parents are aware.  The best dog in the world can do something terrible just because they're guarding their food from something they think is below them in the pecking order.  Don't assume an animal will never act like an animal.  

Saturday, February 14, 2015

Happy Valentine's Day, Darling

I sit here with a sick toddler on my lap and a load of poopy clothes in the washing machine as she watches cartoons.  My husband is upstairs asleep after getting home at 2 a.m.  He will awaken in an hour to get ready for work once again not getting home until 10 p.m. tonight.

And this is our Valentine's Day.
And I am filled with joy that this is our Valentine's Day.

There was a time when I would have been upset that I didn't awaken to a card, flowers and chocolates.  There was a time when I measured how much he loved me on what he got for me on this day.  And maybe I still do feel loved based on his actions...but it's different now.

Maybe it's because I'm a mother now and God has taught me so much about my own selfishness. Maybe it's because difficult times have put priorities in perspective.

Or, maybe it's just God working in me.

Today, I feel loved by my husband, because he works so hard to provide for our family.  He loves his daughter, and our beautiful daughter to arrive in a few months, so much that he never gets a good night's sleep.  And even after an 11 hour shift, he stops by Wal-Mart to get our sick little angel some Pedialyte.

Today, I know I am loved by him, because he doesn't quit when times are not ideal.  When we don't have a lot of money in the bank, when sickness, disappointment and let downs have beset our family the past year; he keeps loving us.
He keeps loving me by being the leader our family needs.  He directs us to focus our attention on who God really is--His love demonstrated on the cross, his grace given every day and his never changing state.

This Valentine's Day, my husband Eric, has given me the best gift of all.  The gift of himself.  He is truly my dream come true.  I see that more now after 8 years of being together than I ever did before.

He is my best friend.  My rock.  He is, now and always, my Valentine.

I love you, Eric.

Monday, January 12, 2015

Why I Hate the Question, "How are Feeling?", When I'm Pregnant

When a woman is pregnant, others who care want to know how she is doing.  Of course, they do. They are excited and hopeful.  They want to know if she feels sick, tired and any other quirks the pregnancy brings.
Loving people are going to ask.

I totally understand this. 
That's why it is so very difficult when those wonderful people  ask me the question, "How are you feeling?"

It's like a punch in the gut for me-like someone is poking around in a very sore, tender wound.  And I hate that it's like that.

I am pregnant.  I am happy about that.  

But I'm also still grieving the loss of the baby I carried months before this one.  
I'm also grieving the first 3 months of this pregnancy that were very scary not knowing if the bleeding would ever fully stop or the hemorrhage would get bigger and end the pregnancy.  
I'm not completely off of those pins and needles.

I also wish that, this pregnancy, I could have told people about how terrible my morning sickness has been.  I WISH I could have vomited at least once.  I wanted confirmation that my body was doing it's job.  I wanted to be sick.  

But, I wasn't sick in the traditional way.  After being diagnosed with a missed miscarriage and threatened miscarriage within a few months, I was overwhelmingly sick with heartache.

So, when someone asks how I'm feeling, it kinda sucks.  I don't want to answer. 
I don't want to think about it.  I want to continue with life without being reminded of all of the pain and concern that surrounds this pregnancy.  

As time passes it helps.  As we pass each milestone in the pregnancy, I hope more and look forward to the day this baby will rest in my arms.

I know my awkward answers may baffle some well meaning people who ask how I feel.  Well, here's why I give short answers and change the subject quickly.  It's nothing anyone else did.  It's my own way of trying to get through another day and focus on what is ahead instead of what I can't control today.

I thank all of you who have asked out of concern.  I haven't known what to say many times, but I do appreciate the support.

On a brighter note, the baby is developing perfectly so far.  We are so very grateful for this.  Thank you for your prayers!

Tuesday, December 16, 2014

To Know Christ no Matter the Cost

I've been putting off writing this.  But I really need to.  Not just for myself, but for others that read and need to know that someone else in this world feels the same way.

I love Christmas.  I love the carols, lights, the excitement, the smell of a fresh cut tree and making Christmas cookies that never quite come out looking like reindeer but some sort of blob with antlers.

With that said, this Christmas, I find myself just wanting it to be over.  I still love all of those things.  I mostly love seeing my daughter enjoy looking at our tree and participate in the fun holiday activities.  I am not enjoying it the way she is, though.  I wish I were.

I miss the baby that I would be 27 weeks pregnant with right now.  I miss so much of what I don't get to experience with that child.  And I feel very alone in this.
Life goes on.  But, the pain is real.  It's hard to resume normal activities and be blissfully happy during the holidays-even if you're pregnant again.

Every child is important and loved.  If a child died of parents who had several children, would the parents cease to mourn if another child came into the family?
I feel as though people forget that my child died.  They never got to know them.  Never saw them, and therefore, don't miss them in the same way.

I intensely miss my baby.
I carried that child.  I talked to, sang to, prayed for, and hoped for that child.  I felt the signs of life in my body-and the signs of death.  My arms still ache from the emptiness.  My soul grieves.

It's as though you are shown something so fantastically beautiful you can't take your eyes off of it.  It creates something wonderful in you as you take in it's magnificence.  But it is suddenly taken away-without explanation.  You are left stunned.  Dumbfounded, and deeply saddened.

So, the holidays aren't exactly super fun this year.  Although, I am so grateful for all of the wonderful people in my life, I still have the right to be sad.
Even if people don't understand.

If a loved one passes away, family and friends can reminisce about them at the holidays. Cry with each other.  Comfort one another.
But, this is different.  Because a loved one that no one knew was lost.

No one knew the baby in the same way the mother did.  There is a degree of separation others have from the pain, that I almost envy.  That creates an intense sense of isolation.

I am pregnant again.  I am thankful for this baby that looks to be okay so far.  It was touch and go there for a few months.  And, I will most likely never fully feel at ease the rest of the pregnancy.

However, I take each day as it comes.  Good or bad.  Whether I'm crying about what has or may happen or busying myself with other things.  I ask God to have mercy.  I feel wholly inadequate that he forgives my screw ups and lack of faith so completely and lovingly.  Yet, he does.  It is often more difficult to accept that fact than to focus on how you'll never measure up.  It is so much better to focus on the Christ that saved the world by entering it as a helpless child.  With a word, he saves, calms, forgives and transforms.

The fact that he even blessed me with the knowledge of the 2 babies we lost, is beyond gracious.  I am so happy we will be reunited in heaven.  I can't wait to hug them so tight for about 1,000 years!

I thank God for being separated from his Son while he was on this earth and the cross.  For going through the ultimate separation when Jesus endured hell for us.  He watched his Son die the ultimate death.

Although, I don't understand why this grief is mine for this lifetime, I know there is a plan far reaching my understanding.  I know my God grieves with me as well.

That all may know him-no matter the cost.