Love. Love love love love love.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Rocking my baby to sleep...
There are two things you need to understand as a backdrop to this post: 1. My eldest child does not sleep. It's a struggle every. single. night. Melatonin, trazodone--might as well be feeding him gumdrops. And while I have wished many, many nights that I was the kind of mother that cherishes bedtime because of the cozy loveliness of tucking my children in, the fact of the matter is that by the time bedtime comes, I'm done. As in stick-a-fork-in-me done. Those two things are NOT a good combination. 2. I had a minor outpatient surgery last week, and I'm just not feeling the best. I feel better, then overdo it, and my body has just decided it's not going to allow me to overdo it anymore, so it decided to be a lazy bum today, and my mood joined it.
So today my tired, cranky, don't-really-care self took Z to our weekly appointment. We see an attachment specialist each week, and have been for about 15 months now. Our first therapist decided to give birth to her first child, so last month we started with a new therapist, which is always a hard transition. But things have gone well, and today he decided to show his true colors by being angry at me, and Matt, and L, and A, and the world, for any & every reason he could conjure up. Some of these are true reasons, and I accept that, but the rest of them are the lovely chip on his shoulder brought on by a pretty rough series of events, none of which were his fault by ANY means, around his second birthday. He's eleven now, and has been with us for nine years (coming to us as a result of those events), and the curse remains. It means our son is a never-ending Rubik's cube. We twist & turn & learn & read & try & just when we get one side all together & get a glimmer of hope...we realize there's a whole lot more ahead that we haven't even touched yet.
For the most part, the things we've learned over the past couple years about attachment disorder have been really, really helpful. Even encouraging at times. It's nice to gain insights that allow you to maybe understand your child's thought processes, and therefore his actions, for potentially the very first time. It would be even BETTER, however, if it could instantly cure my selfishness & immaturity as a momma in those moments when I just want a TYPICAL child. I don't want to deal with trying to figure it out sometimes. I just want to be able to retrieve the snippets from my child development classes & apply it to the kid, but that's just not how it works.
So, back to our appointment today. Z took extra time to share all his woes about what dreadful parents we are with the counselor as I sat in the hallway reading parenting book #2473. I was glad she was able to see this other side of him, and I was glad he felt comfortable enough with her that he didn't just stick on his 11-year-old "it's all good" face to get through the hour. Afterwards, when she & I had a chance to chat briefly, we talked about the bedtime thing. So then of course, tonight, at bedtime, I'm tired, he's not, all 3 kids are fairly wound up, Matt's in bed early. I'm a grump with the nagging knowledge that I need to give my child more than I have to give him at this point. Ugh.
So after sending him back to bed for the 40th time, I fold another load of laundry & pray. There was no "Dear God" and no "amen", but it was a prayer nonetheless. And then I go sit by his bed, disregard the grumpy "go away" order he mumbles, and I pour out my heart. I apologize for not being all that he needs, I tell him my wishes that I could magically be the perfect mom, and I request grace for those times when I don't respond to what he needs. Even though he doesn't respond, I can tell his body is softening along with his anger. Instead of struggling to continue to scratch his own back (we all know how well THAT works!), he allows me to scratch his back, something he's always loved. I tell him I wish I could've scratched his back when he was a baby. I tell him how much I love him, even if I don't do a good job at showing it sometimes. And I feel my heart and body softening as well. I'm reminded of when A was a baby and I would sometimes rock her to sleep, and I realize that rocking my baby to sleep doesn't always look like the pictures the artists paint of blessed motherhood. In fact, most parts of my motherhood experience don't look like those pictures, but that doesn't make them any less special. I commit to taking the time to rock my baby to sleep in the way that he needs as yet another way to connect with him & heal some of the damage caused all those years ago.
So my sweet son dozes off as his momma scratches his back, and just as I think he's finally given it to sweet slumber, his eyes open, he looks at me, grins slightly, and farts. A big giant fart. Followed by a giggle.
Maybe he's far more typical than I give him credit for.
So today my tired, cranky, don't-really-care self took Z to our weekly appointment. We see an attachment specialist each week, and have been for about 15 months now. Our first therapist decided to give birth to her first child, so last month we started with a new therapist, which is always a hard transition. But things have gone well, and today he decided to show his true colors by being angry at me, and Matt, and L, and A, and the world, for any & every reason he could conjure up. Some of these are true reasons, and I accept that, but the rest of them are the lovely chip on his shoulder brought on by a pretty rough series of events, none of which were his fault by ANY means, around his second birthday. He's eleven now, and has been with us for nine years (coming to us as a result of those events), and the curse remains. It means our son is a never-ending Rubik's cube. We twist & turn & learn & read & try & just when we get one side all together & get a glimmer of hope...we realize there's a whole lot more ahead that we haven't even touched yet.
For the most part, the things we've learned over the past couple years about attachment disorder have been really, really helpful. Even encouraging at times. It's nice to gain insights that allow you to maybe understand your child's thought processes, and therefore his actions, for potentially the very first time. It would be even BETTER, however, if it could instantly cure my selfishness & immaturity as a momma in those moments when I just want a TYPICAL child. I don't want to deal with trying to figure it out sometimes. I just want to be able to retrieve the snippets from my child development classes & apply it to the kid, but that's just not how it works.
So, back to our appointment today. Z took extra time to share all his woes about what dreadful parents we are with the counselor as I sat in the hallway reading parenting book #2473. I was glad she was able to see this other side of him, and I was glad he felt comfortable enough with her that he didn't just stick on his 11-year-old "it's all good" face to get through the hour. Afterwards, when she & I had a chance to chat briefly, we talked about the bedtime thing. So then of course, tonight, at bedtime, I'm tired, he's not, all 3 kids are fairly wound up, Matt's in bed early. I'm a grump with the nagging knowledge that I need to give my child more than I have to give him at this point. Ugh.
So after sending him back to bed for the 40th time, I fold another load of laundry & pray. There was no "Dear God" and no "amen", but it was a prayer nonetheless. And then I go sit by his bed, disregard the grumpy "go away" order he mumbles, and I pour out my heart. I apologize for not being all that he needs, I tell him my wishes that I could magically be the perfect mom, and I request grace for those times when I don't respond to what he needs. Even though he doesn't respond, I can tell his body is softening along with his anger. Instead of struggling to continue to scratch his own back (we all know how well THAT works!), he allows me to scratch his back, something he's always loved. I tell him I wish I could've scratched his back when he was a baby. I tell him how much I love him, even if I don't do a good job at showing it sometimes. And I feel my heart and body softening as well. I'm reminded of when A was a baby and I would sometimes rock her to sleep, and I realize that rocking my baby to sleep doesn't always look like the pictures the artists paint of blessed motherhood. In fact, most parts of my motherhood experience don't look like those pictures, but that doesn't make them any less special. I commit to taking the time to rock my baby to sleep in the way that he needs as yet another way to connect with him & heal some of the damage caused all those years ago.
So my sweet son dozes off as his momma scratches his back, and just as I think he's finally given it to sweet slumber, his eyes open, he looks at me, grins slightly, and farts. A big giant fart. Followed by a giggle.
Maybe he's far more typical than I give him credit for.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
The mixed bag that is Mother's Day.
I think I have Mother's Day PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder). I mean, I've been a mom for almost nine years, so I'd think I'd be over the three years I so wanted to be a mom but wasn't. But I don't know that those things ever go away. And even when they go away for us personally, we always know someone who is going through infertility, a failed adoption, miscarriages, or other similar struggles. And then you've got it on the other end: friends who have lost their mothers, or whose mothers are ill, or even those who have strained relationships with their mothers. As much as I'd just love to soak in the day & love it all, I just can't.
Don't get me wrong--I like Mother's Day. I keep every scribbly, handprint-traced, misspelled word card they make. I put on my best surprised face when I see the flowers they buy me. (It's a family tradition: hanging baskets & flowers to plant in the flower beds. Every year. Along with great fanfare that I'll NEVER guess what they're going to get me! It makes my heart happy.) Plus today I got a BONUS gift: An older couple sitting near us at the restaurant at lunch wished me a happy Mother's Day when they left, and she said my children were beautiful AND well-behaved! WHOO HOOOO! I also got a rose & a Choco Taco ice cream from the restaurant. That made me happy too. (I'm pretty easy to please!)
I just hate it when my expectations are too high, or are just plain ol' wrong. And my "visions" of Mother's Day are this gorgeous, beaming woman with her adorable little kids doting on her all day, memorizing Proverbs 31 & quoting it to her, while her handsome husband, dressed in his coordinating outfit from church, has lavish plans for the days. (Yes, you may puke now. I agree.) OK--maybe that's not QUITE how I imagined it would play out, but I never thought about how it's such a hard day for so many until the year came when I cried through the day. All day. I'd have to put on my brave face to go to work, and have the kids hand out carnations to the mothers after each church service (and I'm still amused at my instructions: "Offer it to any woman that looks older than a teenager and tell her 'Happy Mother's Day'. If she doesn't take it, that's OK. Offer it to someone else."). The kids would offer me a carnation, and if there were some left at the end of the last service, I'd accept with appreciation for their sweet gesture. But I think that ache of wanting to be a mom so badly and having to wait for it might sear itself into your soul forever. I am the mom of three beautiful children, but I can take myself back to those days in a heartbeat. I've come to accept the fact that this body will never experience a full pregancy or nurse an infant, and I'm okay with that. Finally. But my heart still hurts for those women who aren't to that point yet. It's really a rotten place to be. And it's on my list of "questions to ask God when I get there", why a fifteen-year-old girl on public assistance can get pregnant in the blink of an eye, but a stable, Christian, ready-for-kids couple can't. But I guess there are many other variations on that question. Why do I have amazing friends who are single & would love to get married but haven't met that person yet? Why does cancer take some people & not others? The list could go on & on.
It all boils down to the fact that God is God, and I am not. If I claim to follow Him, I cannot throw a hissy fit when I can't see the whole story. It's His story to tell, not mine. And this earth is lovely & is full of beautiful things, but it's also a reminder that there is a much greater world to come. So, to all those moms out there: Happy Mother's Day. And to all those who wish for nothing more than to be a mom: hang in there. Just trust me on that. And to all those who gave a child life to be raised by another: thanks. That one little word isn't nearly enough for giving another woman the gift she has longed for more than anything else in this world, but it'll have to do. There's isn't a big enough word in all of the English language to express that much gratitude.
And so as not to be a Debbie Downer on such a lovely holiday, here's a little Mother's Day humor from our warped daughter:
A: "Mom, what letter is this?" (as she holds up a piece of waffle. Yes, toaster waffle remnant.)
Me: "I don't know! What letter is it?"
A: "It's an elephant!"
Oh my.
Don't get me wrong--I like Mother's Day. I keep every scribbly, handprint-traced, misspelled word card they make. I put on my best surprised face when I see the flowers they buy me. (It's a family tradition: hanging baskets & flowers to plant in the flower beds. Every year. Along with great fanfare that I'll NEVER guess what they're going to get me! It makes my heart happy.) Plus today I got a BONUS gift: An older couple sitting near us at the restaurant at lunch wished me a happy Mother's Day when they left, and she said my children were beautiful AND well-behaved! WHOO HOOOO! I also got a rose & a Choco Taco ice cream from the restaurant. That made me happy too. (I'm pretty easy to please!)
I just hate it when my expectations are too high, or are just plain ol' wrong. And my "visions" of Mother's Day are this gorgeous, beaming woman with her adorable little kids doting on her all day, memorizing Proverbs 31 & quoting it to her, while her handsome husband, dressed in his coordinating outfit from church, has lavish plans for the days. (Yes, you may puke now. I agree.) OK--maybe that's not QUITE how I imagined it would play out, but I never thought about how it's such a hard day for so many until the year came when I cried through the day. All day. I'd have to put on my brave face to go to work, and have the kids hand out carnations to the mothers after each church service (and I'm still amused at my instructions: "Offer it to any woman that looks older than a teenager and tell her 'Happy Mother's Day'. If she doesn't take it, that's OK. Offer it to someone else."). The kids would offer me a carnation, and if there were some left at the end of the last service, I'd accept with appreciation for their sweet gesture. But I think that ache of wanting to be a mom so badly and having to wait for it might sear itself into your soul forever. I am the mom of three beautiful children, but I can take myself back to those days in a heartbeat. I've come to accept the fact that this body will never experience a full pregancy or nurse an infant, and I'm okay with that. Finally. But my heart still hurts for those women who aren't to that point yet. It's really a rotten place to be. And it's on my list of "questions to ask God when I get there", why a fifteen-year-old girl on public assistance can get pregnant in the blink of an eye, but a stable, Christian, ready-for-kids couple can't. But I guess there are many other variations on that question. Why do I have amazing friends who are single & would love to get married but haven't met that person yet? Why does cancer take some people & not others? The list could go on & on.
It all boils down to the fact that God is God, and I am not. If I claim to follow Him, I cannot throw a hissy fit when I can't see the whole story. It's His story to tell, not mine. And this earth is lovely & is full of beautiful things, but it's also a reminder that there is a much greater world to come. So, to all those moms out there: Happy Mother's Day. And to all those who wish for nothing more than to be a mom: hang in there. Just trust me on that. And to all those who gave a child life to be raised by another: thanks. That one little word isn't nearly enough for giving another woman the gift she has longed for more than anything else in this world, but it'll have to do. There's isn't a big enough word in all of the English language to express that much gratitude.
And so as not to be a Debbie Downer on such a lovely holiday, here's a little Mother's Day humor from our warped daughter:
A: "Mom, what letter is this?" (as she holds up a piece of waffle. Yes, toaster waffle remnant.)
Me: "I don't know! What letter is it?"
A: "It's an elephant!"
Oh my.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
The blessings continue...
I've always been a proponent of public school. I went to public school, and while it has its pros & cons, I think it's a great way for us to be the salt & light to those around us. I also think it's our responsibility as parents to be closely involved in our children's education, regardless of the format. All three of our kids have been in public education since Kindergarten (well, the two who are older than Kindergarten age, anyway!), and I just enrolled the youngest for Kindergarten (sniff, sniff).
The way our school district is set up is that the elementary school houses students in K-4th grade, then intermediate school is 5/6, jr. high is 7/8, and then high school. I like it somewhat in that those crazy "in-between" years are broken up pretty tightly, but it also meant that eldest child had to start a new school this year. Some kids might be REALLY excited, but for a child who doesn't transition well--it's just not pretty. But life is just a continuing series of transitions (spoken from the momma who doesn't adjust to transitions well herself!), so it's just something we all have to learn.
So, school started in August & we learned how Z would do in the intermediate school setting. At the same time, I had to learn when & how I needed to advocate for him & when to let him learn on his own. It's an awkward dance, to say the least. You have a child who struggles in multiple ways, a mom who is unsure of the best way to help, and an educational team that does this year-in & year-out. Z struggled with his grades, quite a bit more so than he ever did in elementary school, but he managed. As the year went on, his struggles grew, right along with my uneasiness. His school is a great school, but it just didn't seem to be suiting HIM. But maybe we just need to give it a little more time.
In the meanwhile, I started keeping my eyes & ears open for alternative schooling options. I chatted with a couple of homeschool moms, made mental lists of private schools, and did online research of a couple "specialty" private schools I had heard about. At the same time, we implemented a more scheduled homework time, hired a tutor, and communicated with the school more than ever before. Things didn't improve, and we were seeing the burden of school grow bigger & heavier on our son's shoulders.
I requested his annual IEP case conference be moved up so we could address some issues. The meeting was fine, but I just did not have a peace about the situation. Spring break arrived (hooray!), and my irritable, angry child was replaced with a cooperative, funny child similar to one I used to know. But alas, spring break only lasts a week (boo!). The first day back to school was U.G.L.Y. After finally getting that irritable, angry child to school, it was clear we had to make a change, and next year was not soon enough.
I had already made plans to attend a charter school open house that just happened to be scheduled for the very next day, so I went to that and was VERY impressed. I had never heard of this school until a couple months earlier when a mom had mentioned it at a meeting at church. The meeting itself wasn't something I HAD to attend, and now I know why I felt like I should go! Over the next week while we were considering this schooling change, two people from Z's elementary school, on separate occasions, also mentioned this school to me. In researching this charter school, I learned of a curriculum that can be used for homeschooling, and would also be used if we chose this charter school next year.
So...we pulled him from school on a Friday, and homeschooling started the next Monday. Whoooo boy. It has been quite the adventure, to say the least. But the oddest thing about it all is the overwhelming peace that Matt & I both have that this is the right decision for him. I'm pretty good at idealistic, not-quite-thought-through plans, but when Matt's on board, you know it's had serious consideration! Even our family counselor, who wouldn't normally recommend homeschooling for children with Z's disorder, agreed that this is best. Fortunately I have LOTS of friends who homeschool, and I even reconnected with a friend I hadn't talked to in about a decade who has been a priceless help to me. We still have to figure out how it works for US, but at least I know I'm not alone.
I don't know what God's plan is with this little adventure in homeschooling, but we're following a day at a time & He is providing the peace & confidence to know it's right despite the royal headaches that each day has presented. I am becoming QUITE the student of my child and his needs, interests, and abilities. Some days we have many fun adventures while learning, and some days we're lucky to complete two lessons. And while this transition has not been any easier on either of us than previous transitions, I am confident God is using this time to bond us & grow us both. I can't say I directly see blessings outright in this experience, but just knowing God has led us here & that we're obeying Him in taking this step is more than enough.
The way our school district is set up is that the elementary school houses students in K-4th grade, then intermediate school is 5/6, jr. high is 7/8, and then high school. I like it somewhat in that those crazy "in-between" years are broken up pretty tightly, but it also meant that eldest child had to start a new school this year. Some kids might be REALLY excited, but for a child who doesn't transition well--it's just not pretty. But life is just a continuing series of transitions (spoken from the momma who doesn't adjust to transitions well herself!), so it's just something we all have to learn.
So, school started in August & we learned how Z would do in the intermediate school setting. At the same time, I had to learn when & how I needed to advocate for him & when to let him learn on his own. It's an awkward dance, to say the least. You have a child who struggles in multiple ways, a mom who is unsure of the best way to help, and an educational team that does this year-in & year-out. Z struggled with his grades, quite a bit more so than he ever did in elementary school, but he managed. As the year went on, his struggles grew, right along with my uneasiness. His school is a great school, but it just didn't seem to be suiting HIM. But maybe we just need to give it a little more time.
In the meanwhile, I started keeping my eyes & ears open for alternative schooling options. I chatted with a couple of homeschool moms, made mental lists of private schools, and did online research of a couple "specialty" private schools I had heard about. At the same time, we implemented a more scheduled homework time, hired a tutor, and communicated with the school more than ever before. Things didn't improve, and we were seeing the burden of school grow bigger & heavier on our son's shoulders.
I requested his annual IEP case conference be moved up so we could address some issues. The meeting was fine, but I just did not have a peace about the situation. Spring break arrived (hooray!), and my irritable, angry child was replaced with a cooperative, funny child similar to one I used to know. But alas, spring break only lasts a week (boo!). The first day back to school was U.G.L.Y. After finally getting that irritable, angry child to school, it was clear we had to make a change, and next year was not soon enough.
I had already made plans to attend a charter school open house that just happened to be scheduled for the very next day, so I went to that and was VERY impressed. I had never heard of this school until a couple months earlier when a mom had mentioned it at a meeting at church. The meeting itself wasn't something I HAD to attend, and now I know why I felt like I should go! Over the next week while we were considering this schooling change, two people from Z's elementary school, on separate occasions, also mentioned this school to me. In researching this charter school, I learned of a curriculum that can be used for homeschooling, and would also be used if we chose this charter school next year.
So...we pulled him from school on a Friday, and homeschooling started the next Monday. Whoooo boy. It has been quite the adventure, to say the least. But the oddest thing about it all is the overwhelming peace that Matt & I both have that this is the right decision for him. I'm pretty good at idealistic, not-quite-thought-through plans, but when Matt's on board, you know it's had serious consideration! Even our family counselor, who wouldn't normally recommend homeschooling for children with Z's disorder, agreed that this is best. Fortunately I have LOTS of friends who homeschool, and I even reconnected with a friend I hadn't talked to in about a decade who has been a priceless help to me. We still have to figure out how it works for US, but at least I know I'm not alone.
I don't know what God's plan is with this little adventure in homeschooling, but we're following a day at a time & He is providing the peace & confidence to know it's right despite the royal headaches that each day has presented. I am becoming QUITE the student of my child and his needs, interests, and abilities. Some days we have many fun adventures while learning, and some days we're lucky to complete two lessons. And while this transition has not been any easier on either of us than previous transitions, I am confident God is using this time to bond us & grow us both. I can't say I directly see blessings outright in this experience, but just knowing God has led us here & that we're obeying Him in taking this step is more than enough.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Oh, how He loves us...
I should probably blog more often, because it seems like when I finally do it they're a MILE long because that's how long it takes to get all my thoughts out. I think this will be another lengthy one, so have a seat, grab a cup o' tea, and take a much-needed breather in your day. (Hopefully you won't regret that you spent that time with me! Ha!)
So, I've been thinking lately. Yes, that IS frightening. I agree. I am thoroughly amazed, and often befuddled, at how God prepares us for the life that is ahead. Seven years ago, right around this time, I accepted a job offer that I was SURE was my dream job. It meant giving up the AMAZING job I had & loved dearly, but I thought it was more closely tied to what I wanted to do, and the big perk was that instead of being 10- and 13-hours away from our parents, we'd be 5 & 2. Leaving the job I had, and the wonderful life we had built there in the 8 1/2 years, was one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do, but buying our first home, being closer to family, and settling in to a new place helped a bit. Fast forward a couple years, and that dream job wasn't quite the dream I thought it was. Nothing was wrong with the job, but through a variety of things I learned that maybe I wasn't quite the "fit" that I thought I was. Plus we had added two kids to our family, plus had another one temporarily, so life was fairly loopy. Being a stay-at-home-mom (SAHM) was never, and I repeat, never on my radar. I loved my career, and I loved my kids, but my goal was to just learn how to balance it all. In December 2006, A was put in the hospital for four days with RSV. She was just 10 1/2 months old, and although she fared well, it was still really scary. My brother & SIL took the boys to a family Christmas for the weekend (A did not ask if that weekend was good for us before getting so sick!), so Matt & I just hung out at the hospital for the weekend while A slept in her baby oxygen tent. This was the second health emergency our family had had that year, as that previous April my wonderful Grandma had a heart attack & died a week later. In the week that she was in the hospital, I dragged all 3 kids up to Michigan to be with family for a week. During both of these events, I felt HORRIBLE that I was not giving all I could to work, but I had to focus on my family. They come first, no questions asked. But it's still a struggle when you feel torn between your responsibilities. So, back to A's hospital adventure: I had this random thought about if maybe I should stay home with the kids. I disregarded it rather quickly because A) that wasn't in my plan, and B) there was no way we could live on one salary. Later that very same weekend, Matt "randomly" asked, "Have you ever thought of staying home with the kids?" He knew how much stress I carried. From there we started talking & decided that I'd quit my job the end of June.
Those next several months were a weird limbo time. I wanted to do my best & make sure I was leaving things in good standing, yet I knew I was simply not capable of providing the level of work that job needed. That's a hard pill to swallow! But June came & the job wrapped up & I set out on a new adventure as SAHM. Money was REALLY tight, I had a really hard time adjusting to this VERY different life, and frankly, it just wasn't really what I thought it would be. But we felt like God had paved the way, so we just were there, hanging out in this odd obedience state.
Less than nine months later, I got my breast cancer diagnosis. Surprise! That was certainly NOT on our life plan for our family! There are women who work all through cancer treatment, but I was NOT one of them. I was so sick all through chemo, I healed slowly from my surgery, and was so tired all through radiation. If I had been working at the time, you would've had to send me off to the funny farm! There would've been no way I could've worked, taken care of the kids & house, all while dealing with cancer. Our moms were here non-stop, and we had TONS of help, but I'm fairly certain I could not have handled it all emotionally.
I'm not sure when I realized it, but at some point I looked back at that chain of events. I thought I knew why everything came about as it did, but that whole "hindsight" thing changed my mind. Maybe God presented me with that "dream job" knowing that it would have to be something BIG to move me away from the job (and co-workers, and church family) I dearly loved. And it just so happened that it was SO much closer to our families. And maybe that job didn't pan out to be all I hoped because He had something even BETTER in mind for me that I had never considered. And maybe He had us move back because my poor Mama had a hard enough time with my cancer, and having me thirteen hours away through that would've sent her over the edge. And maybe we were supposed to move here because our next two children were here, not there.
Through it all, God worked through the details in my life, the dreams in my heart, and the life I never imagined I could have, and made it all a reality one piece at a time. Life isn't perfect--far from it--but knowing I am where He wants me makes it amazing.
Fortunately, the story doesn't end there...
So, I've been thinking lately. Yes, that IS frightening. I agree. I am thoroughly amazed, and often befuddled, at how God prepares us for the life that is ahead. Seven years ago, right around this time, I accepted a job offer that I was SURE was my dream job. It meant giving up the AMAZING job I had & loved dearly, but I thought it was more closely tied to what I wanted to do, and the big perk was that instead of being 10- and 13-hours away from our parents, we'd be 5 & 2. Leaving the job I had, and the wonderful life we had built there in the 8 1/2 years, was one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do, but buying our first home, being closer to family, and settling in to a new place helped a bit. Fast forward a couple years, and that dream job wasn't quite the dream I thought it was. Nothing was wrong with the job, but through a variety of things I learned that maybe I wasn't quite the "fit" that I thought I was. Plus we had added two kids to our family, plus had another one temporarily, so life was fairly loopy. Being a stay-at-home-mom (SAHM) was never, and I repeat, never on my radar. I loved my career, and I loved my kids, but my goal was to just learn how to balance it all. In December 2006, A was put in the hospital for four days with RSV. She was just 10 1/2 months old, and although she fared well, it was still really scary. My brother & SIL took the boys to a family Christmas for the weekend (A did not ask if that weekend was good for us before getting so sick!), so Matt & I just hung out at the hospital for the weekend while A slept in her baby oxygen tent. This was the second health emergency our family had had that year, as that previous April my wonderful Grandma had a heart attack & died a week later. In the week that she was in the hospital, I dragged all 3 kids up to Michigan to be with family for a week. During both of these events, I felt HORRIBLE that I was not giving all I could to work, but I had to focus on my family. They come first, no questions asked. But it's still a struggle when you feel torn between your responsibilities. So, back to A's hospital adventure: I had this random thought about if maybe I should stay home with the kids. I disregarded it rather quickly because A) that wasn't in my plan, and B) there was no way we could live on one salary. Later that very same weekend, Matt "randomly" asked, "Have you ever thought of staying home with the kids?" He knew how much stress I carried. From there we started talking & decided that I'd quit my job the end of June.
Those next several months were a weird limbo time. I wanted to do my best & make sure I was leaving things in good standing, yet I knew I was simply not capable of providing the level of work that job needed. That's a hard pill to swallow! But June came & the job wrapped up & I set out on a new adventure as SAHM. Money was REALLY tight, I had a really hard time adjusting to this VERY different life, and frankly, it just wasn't really what I thought it would be. But we felt like God had paved the way, so we just were there, hanging out in this odd obedience state.
Less than nine months later, I got my breast cancer diagnosis. Surprise! That was certainly NOT on our life plan for our family! There are women who work all through cancer treatment, but I was NOT one of them. I was so sick all through chemo, I healed slowly from my surgery, and was so tired all through radiation. If I had been working at the time, you would've had to send me off to the funny farm! There would've been no way I could've worked, taken care of the kids & house, all while dealing with cancer. Our moms were here non-stop, and we had TONS of help, but I'm fairly certain I could not have handled it all emotionally.
I'm not sure when I realized it, but at some point I looked back at that chain of events. I thought I knew why everything came about as it did, but that whole "hindsight" thing changed my mind. Maybe God presented me with that "dream job" knowing that it would have to be something BIG to move me away from the job (and co-workers, and church family) I dearly loved. And it just so happened that it was SO much closer to our families. And maybe that job didn't pan out to be all I hoped because He had something even BETTER in mind for me that I had never considered. And maybe He had us move back because my poor Mama had a hard enough time with my cancer, and having me thirteen hours away through that would've sent her over the edge. And maybe we were supposed to move here because our next two children were here, not there.
Through it all, God worked through the details in my life, the dreams in my heart, and the life I never imagined I could have, and made it all a reality one piece at a time. Life isn't perfect--far from it--but knowing I am where He wants me makes it amazing.
Fortunately, the story doesn't end there...
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Peace. Blessed, blessed peace.
It's official: I am convinced that the kindest thing a father can do for his wife is to take the children to his parents' for the weekend. And if he REALLY wants bonus points, make it a three-day weekend.
I have begged Matt for YEARS to do just that, and I don't know if the pleading finally wore him down, or if having the kids a bit older made him a little braver, or if God was just smiling on me that day, but last Friday around 4:30 PM I waved a sad-faced good-bye (for their sake, of course!) to a silver Mazda headed to Ohio for a three-day weekend. And then I came inside, looked around the house, and wondered what I had done! At first it was odd. I'm not sure why, since I have the opportunity to be home alone four mornings a week while the kids are at school. Maybe it's because being home alone in the late afternoon is unheard of, or because I realized I had more than a three-hour window all to myself.
I then did what any mother would do when left to her own devices: I did the dishes. I'm not sure why a clean kitchen was first on my priority list (maybe deep inside it was because I knew I was basically banning cooking for three days???), but it was. And then I headed over to my good buddy Alicia's house to scrapbook. All work & no play makes Jenny a dull girl, right?
For the next three days, the only place I left the house for was church. I cleaned, I sorted, I thought, I watched what I wanted on TV, I ate a doughnut for lunch, and my wardrobe consisted of either pajamas or sweatpants. When I cleaned something up, it stayed that way. It. was. glorious.
The strangest discovery of the entire weekend was how much I LOVED the silence. I blasted Pandora Radio at times. I watched several episodes of "Clean House" on Netflix while folding laundry. I toted my iPod & speakers around the house. But when the music stopped or the show ended and the silence began, I just let it be. In fact, even now, as my family is asleep in bed & as the only sound is the keyboard I'm typing on, I'm amazed at how much I love the sound of nothing.
This is very odd for me as an extrovert. I love people. I can be quite loud. A "quiet & gentle heart" is one of those Biblical attributes that I think is SO lovely, but maybe too difficult for me to ever attain. I thought maybe being married to my very introverted husband for almost fifteen years was wearing off on me. But after thinking on it, I think I now understand why the silence and time alone was such a "refueling" time for me. I'm sure part of it is simply because I'm a mom, and those "alone" moments are few & far between (especially if you get to be HOME alone!). But even more than that, I think it's because I'm the mom of a child with special needs.
I love motherhood. It is a million times harder than I ever imagined, and it has delighted me more than I ever knew possible. Our road to parenthood was not as we expected, though it is very evident where God had prepared Matt & me to foster & then adopt our children. But I never understood the challenges of raising a child with special needs. It draws resources from me that I never knew I had (or even existed!). It often shows me sides of myself that I'd rather not see. It has even (dare I say it) made me question if we truly sought God's desire for our future when choosing to accept this child into our home. Don't get me wrong for a second: I love my children, all three of them, more than life itself. I love watching how their individual personalities mix their genetic backgrounds with the oddities of their environment to create this crazy, amazing, unique tapestry that is our family. And yes, I know that God chose each of these children for us, and He also chose us to be their parents. For better, for worse, for years of therapy they face to make up for all of our mistakes. :-) But man, it's hard. I question myself dozens of times every day. Am I pushing too hard? Am I being too laid-back? Am I gathering the proper resources to give my child every chance to succeed in life? Am I praying enough? Am I yelling too much? Am I laughing enough? Have I said "I love you" lately? Should I investigate a new dietary plan? Are the medications at the right dosage? Would it be better if we lived in a neighborhood with more kids? Do I need to be more intentional with building social skills? Am I assertive enough with the educational team? Am I too overprotective? On and on the questions come. It's a never-ending barrage, both within myself as well as between my child & me. But for more than 72 hours, I was free from all of it. No worries, no concerns.
So last night, around 6:30 PM, reality returned to our home. There were giant "welcome home" squeezes, adventures with their Mamie to be told, and hugs & kisses & giggles at bedtime. They were excited at our shiny, uncluttered house (yes, it's true!), and I was proud that I was able to create a better living environment so that I can spend more time with them and less time taking care of stuff. And I know that when life feels extra busy and I'm not sure whether I'm coming or going, maybe I just need to sit down and soak in the silence. God will speak to my heart as He refills it. It's a beautiful reminder of His constant presence and guidance.
So I'm forever grateful to my dear husband, and to my wonderful in-laws who took amazing care of my family (as always!), but also to the God who never leaves me alone & who provides rest for my soul in ways I never imagined. Peace, blessed, blessed peace, is truly a beautiful thing.
I have begged Matt for YEARS to do just that, and I don't know if the pleading finally wore him down, or if having the kids a bit older made him a little braver, or if God was just smiling on me that day, but last Friday around 4:30 PM I waved a sad-faced good-bye (for their sake, of course!) to a silver Mazda headed to Ohio for a three-day weekend. And then I came inside, looked around the house, and wondered what I had done! At first it was odd. I'm not sure why, since I have the opportunity to be home alone four mornings a week while the kids are at school. Maybe it's because being home alone in the late afternoon is unheard of, or because I realized I had more than a three-hour window all to myself.
I then did what any mother would do when left to her own devices: I did the dishes. I'm not sure why a clean kitchen was first on my priority list (maybe deep inside it was because I knew I was basically banning cooking for three days???), but it was. And then I headed over to my good buddy Alicia's house to scrapbook. All work & no play makes Jenny a dull girl, right?
For the next three days, the only place I left the house for was church. I cleaned, I sorted, I thought, I watched what I wanted on TV, I ate a doughnut for lunch, and my wardrobe consisted of either pajamas or sweatpants. When I cleaned something up, it stayed that way. It. was. glorious.
The strangest discovery of the entire weekend was how much I LOVED the silence. I blasted Pandora Radio at times. I watched several episodes of "Clean House" on Netflix while folding laundry. I toted my iPod & speakers around the house. But when the music stopped or the show ended and the silence began, I just let it be. In fact, even now, as my family is asleep in bed & as the only sound is the keyboard I'm typing on, I'm amazed at how much I love the sound of nothing.
This is very odd for me as an extrovert. I love people. I can be quite loud. A "quiet & gentle heart" is one of those Biblical attributes that I think is SO lovely, but maybe too difficult for me to ever attain. I thought maybe being married to my very introverted husband for almost fifteen years was wearing off on me. But after thinking on it, I think I now understand why the silence and time alone was such a "refueling" time for me. I'm sure part of it is simply because I'm a mom, and those "alone" moments are few & far between (especially if you get to be HOME alone!). But even more than that, I think it's because I'm the mom of a child with special needs.
I love motherhood. It is a million times harder than I ever imagined, and it has delighted me more than I ever knew possible. Our road to parenthood was not as we expected, though it is very evident where God had prepared Matt & me to foster & then adopt our children. But I never understood the challenges of raising a child with special needs. It draws resources from me that I never knew I had (or even existed!). It often shows me sides of myself that I'd rather not see. It has even (dare I say it) made me question if we truly sought God's desire for our future when choosing to accept this child into our home. Don't get me wrong for a second: I love my children, all three of them, more than life itself. I love watching how their individual personalities mix their genetic backgrounds with the oddities of their environment to create this crazy, amazing, unique tapestry that is our family. And yes, I know that God chose each of these children for us, and He also chose us to be their parents. For better, for worse, for years of therapy they face to make up for all of our mistakes. :-) But man, it's hard. I question myself dozens of times every day. Am I pushing too hard? Am I being too laid-back? Am I gathering the proper resources to give my child every chance to succeed in life? Am I praying enough? Am I yelling too much? Am I laughing enough? Have I said "I love you" lately? Should I investigate a new dietary plan? Are the medications at the right dosage? Would it be better if we lived in a neighborhood with more kids? Do I need to be more intentional with building social skills? Am I assertive enough with the educational team? Am I too overprotective? On and on the questions come. It's a never-ending barrage, both within myself as well as between my child & me. But for more than 72 hours, I was free from all of it. No worries, no concerns.
So last night, around 6:30 PM, reality returned to our home. There were giant "welcome home" squeezes, adventures with their Mamie to be told, and hugs & kisses & giggles at bedtime. They were excited at our shiny, uncluttered house (yes, it's true!), and I was proud that I was able to create a better living environment so that I can spend more time with them and less time taking care of stuff. And I know that when life feels extra busy and I'm not sure whether I'm coming or going, maybe I just need to sit down and soak in the silence. God will speak to my heart as He refills it. It's a beautiful reminder of His constant presence and guidance.
So I'm forever grateful to my dear husband, and to my wonderful in-laws who took amazing care of my family (as always!), but also to the God who never leaves me alone & who provides rest for my soul in ways I never imagined. Peace, blessed, blessed peace, is truly a beautiful thing.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
The Proverbs 31 Woman...During the 2011 Winter Storm
A wife of noble character who can find?
She is worth far more than salt.
Her husband has full confidence in his own ability to drive through the treacherous weather,
and in his wife, who lacks nothing of value.
She brings him good, not harm, though some nagging to shovel the sidewalk
all the days of her life.
She selects wool and fleece
And shoves it on her children's appendages with eager hands.
She is like the salt trucks
clearing the roads from afar.
She gets up while it is still night, to make sure the power didn't go out;
she provides food for her family that doesn't need electricity to cook
and wishes she had female servants to prepare portions for!
She considers a snowblower and buys it;
out of her earnings she invents IceMelt.
She sets about her work vigorously;
her arms are strong for her tasks (as she hopes her back is!).
She sees that her CraigsListing is profitable,
and her lamp does not go out at night (thank goodness!).
In her hand she holds the Kindle
and grasps the mouse with her fingers.
She opens her arms to the pathetic little children
and extends her hands to their needy little whines.
When it snows, she has no fear for her household;
for all of them are clothed in Snuggies.
She makes coverings for her bed;
she is clothed in washables & not dry-cleaning only.
Her husband is respected at the water cooler,
where he talks about the Big Game among the elders of the land.
She makes cute little homemade things & sells them on Etsy
and supplies the merchants with unique ideas.
She is clothed with strength & dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come.
She speaks with wisdom,
and faithful and repetitive instruction is on her tongue.
She watches over the affairs of her household
and in her idleness she eats any bread she can get her hands on.
Her children arise and call her blessed...when she makes them the french toast they've requested...
her husband also, and he praises her:
"Many women do noble things,
but you surpass them all."
Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting (and often expensive);
but a women who fears the Lord is to be praised.
Honor her for all that her hands have done,
and let her works bring her praise at her own front door!
This loose adaptation of the honorable Proverbs 31 woman was written after hearing word that the kids were out of school for the fourth day in a row!
She is worth far more than salt.
Her husband has full confidence in his own ability to drive through the treacherous weather,
and in his wife, who lacks nothing of value.
She brings him good, not harm, though some nagging to shovel the sidewalk
all the days of her life.
She selects wool and fleece
And shoves it on her children's appendages with eager hands.
She is like the salt trucks
clearing the roads from afar.
She gets up while it is still night, to make sure the power didn't go out;
she provides food for her family that doesn't need electricity to cook
and wishes she had female servants to prepare portions for!
She considers a snowblower and buys it;
out of her earnings she invents IceMelt.
She sets about her work vigorously;
her arms are strong for her tasks (as she hopes her back is!).
She sees that her CraigsListing is profitable,
and her lamp does not go out at night (thank goodness!).
In her hand she holds the Kindle
and grasps the mouse with her fingers.
She opens her arms to the pathetic little children
and extends her hands to their needy little whines.
When it snows, she has no fear for her household;
for all of them are clothed in Snuggies.
She makes coverings for her bed;
she is clothed in washables & not dry-cleaning only.
Her husband is respected at the water cooler,
where he talks about the Big Game among the elders of the land.
She makes cute little homemade things & sells them on Etsy
and supplies the merchants with unique ideas.
She is clothed with strength & dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come.
She speaks with wisdom,
and faithful and repetitive instruction is on her tongue.
She watches over the affairs of her household
and in her idleness she eats any bread she can get her hands on.
Her children arise and call her blessed...when she makes them the french toast they've requested...
her husband also, and he praises her:
"Many women do noble things,
but you surpass them all."
Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting (and often expensive);
but a women who fears the Lord is to be praised.
Honor her for all that her hands have done,
and let her works bring her praise at her own front door!
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