What makes a good friend? Do you ever feel like you’ve wasted your time on someone? I am not one of those people who has many friends. I am a homebody and can only handle investing so much of my week in social activities. When I make a friendship, I like to dig deep, way past the acquaintance stage, and make friends for life. As a result of this, I had almost no friends growing up. I eventually learned how to make many acquaintances and yet delve deep into the lives of a few. Through trial and error I learned to recognize pretty quickly what friends were “worth it” and would last and which friends could never go past the surface. I invest most of my time and energy into those few because I know that those few will stick around and not waste the little time I have to give. Maybe that sounds selfish, but it’s the most effective way for me to operate and still maintain good friendships. Those people will tell you that I’ll do anything for them. I spend hours being a listening ear, having fun times, and supporting them through life. I bleed, pray, sweat, and agonize over my close friends. Over the course of my life, I have made less than 10 of these types of friends.
My question today is, “where are they now?” If they are such good friends, where are they now?! Well, the good news is that the best friend I’ve ever made is my husband. He has been right here by my side supporting me through these last hellish 9 months. He’s not perfect, but he’s always been there for me even before we were an item and I know he will be there until his dying day.
The best female friends I ever made were in college. I’m happy to say that they are still wonderful friends I know that I can count on. The problem is that they’re all over the country and have lives of their own. That’s just life though, not a choice any of us has made.
But what about those people who are here, but aren’t there? I cannot even begin to recount the hours, weeks, months, worth of time I have spent on friends out here. Yet, I am just now realizing that for all of the time I have been there for them, they have been almost non-existent in my struggles. Sure, some of them have excuses. The problem is that I’m beginning to realize that they always seem to have excuses. I am realizing that I am now at the end of my 9 months and my friends have never kicked in, so to speak. Hmm…
So my question is how in the world do you know if people are worth spending time on? I do not take a completely selfish view to friendship nor do I necessarily regret the impact I’ve had on my friends’ lives. However, there have been many times where I’ve said no to other friends or lost time with my husband for these friends. I feel like I’ve run around the world for them several times over. Was all of that completely necessary? How do you keep from being a fool and giving everything to a friend that will never give back? When you don’t have your family nearby, it is so important to have good friends to help you when the going gets rough. I sure wish I had figured this out before I needed backup. I don’t make friends easily or trust people easily. This is exactly why. To all of my true friends and family, boy do I miss you!
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Friday, August 27, 2010
The War of the Ribs
Do you believe that children are born inherently good? Do you believe that it’s society’s fault for corrupting our little angels? That they come out these cute little saints and then their parents get ahold of them and all hell breaks loose, literally? Well, you’re stupid. Or you’ve never really been near children. I don’t believe that anyone who has worked with young children and has even the tiniest bit of brains in their heads can deny that truth of an inherent sin nature. After working with kids for over 17 years, I’ll let you in on a little secret. Nobody ever has to teach a child how to lie or how to be selfish or how to manipulate their parents. Nope, kids know these tricks right from the get go and boy are they good at them!
For whatever reason, I think this is the funniest thing. I have two nieces and an adopted niece, all under 13 months old. I get the biggest kick out of watching their natural sin nature kick in even at their young ages. At 13 months old, my little niece is starting to learn the word “no” (always one of their first words). However, this is not where it starts. Oh no! At 8 months old, babies are fully capable of a full out fit if they don’t get their way. Even at 3 months or earlier they start developing this distinct cry in which you can totally hear, “That’s not fair! I’m not getting my way! I refuse to be happy simply because I’m not getting my way!” I have seen little babies that are just learning to crawl find out the evil thrill of the response you get from biting your little friend. Once they find any mobility (walking, crawling, even rolling over) we all know exactly where the first place they go to is. The forbidden territory is always the highlight. What’s a little toddler boy’s first response to a bug? Stomp! Utter domination and destruction! I can’t help but chuckle when I see this natural reaction from children.
Why in the world do I find it funny? I mean, sin is sin and sin is a very nasty thing. Well, perhaps it’s because they’re sinning with such innocence. They’re not hiding behind pretenses or feeling guilty for their behavior. That is something they also learn how to do pretty fast, but I love how little children originally just let that sinful attitude out without trying to pretty it up. It’s so honest. I love seeing that same ugliness that I like to hide when I sin just coming out. It reminds me of how ugly sin really is. It reminds me about how like a selfish, fit throwing child I really am. That sinning child is inside all of us, but we make it a lot uglier by trying to pretend it doesn’t exist. Trying to blame our sins on others. Babies don’t care who is keeping them from eating fast enough, they just know that they aren’t being satisfied quickly enough for their tastes. Babies don’t hide behind pretenses and throw out cutting remarks to mom about her lack of skill in meeting their needs. Nope, they just let that ugly squeal out that we adults like to turn into telling remarks, vengeful behavior and whatever other evil thing we can think of all the while pretending to be so righteous. Well, I’m not sure that I explained that as best I could or that that paragraph is completely theologically accurate, but you get the idea.
Now, I know what you other moms are thinking. It’s just not that funny when it’s your terrible two throwing a fit in Walmart over candy. Well, my turn has already come. My baby still has approximately 8 more weeks to cook and he’s already showing that hilarious little sin nature that makes him human. He’s got this one spot that he likes to put his foot in. It’s right on one of my organs right under my rib. He will push on that organ until it’s on fire and feeling like it’s going to burst. He’ll do this for hours. When he gets tired of that, he moves his foot a little farther up and pushes either on my diaphragm or right on my lungs, I’m not sure which. It causes me to have what feels like half capacity in that lung and gives mommy a panic attack when she can’t breathe. It even makes me quite light headed. Now, I completely understand that he is out of room and has no idea what he’s doing. That’s why mommy spends her day (yes, literally most of my day) gently pushing his foot into a new location. How does he respond to this? Well, you’d think that when he puts it immediately back that he’s just innocently not getting it. Maybe partially true. But the real truth comes out around the third time when he gets tired of being moved. That’s when he declares war. We literally have a strength war between my hand and his foot as he pushes back refusing to be moved yet again. He is ridiculously strong for such a little thing and he is very determined to win!
What is really going on? I call it “The War of the Ribs”, but really it’s a war of the wills. We are all born (really, conceived) with a God-given free will. We love to use it. It’s not that he doesn’t have another place to go. It’s not that he’s completely oblivious to my request. Not that I’m saying he’s a criminal mastermind fully capable of plotting the destruction of the world at this stage in life, but he does know a few things. He knows that he is being moved and he knows that he can move. He also knows that he doesn’t like it and sure as heck doesn’t want to. Sure enough, after enough wrestling he will eventually move to a new location. The amount of persuasion I have to give him though does not bode well for dealing with his terrible twos.
Maybe you think I’m crazy or imagining things. Well, due to the extreme lack of space for my little 8 month old son we do this battle throughout the day. It really takes him no time at all to fall asleep for his typical 30 minutes, wake up forgetful of last play time, and pretty quickly get himself back into his favorite position. In fact, “The War of the Ribs” is going on as we speak. Somehow I’m still able to laugh as he yet again gets frustrated and gives me several huge, quick kicks in obvious anger (mind you my galbladder, appendix, or small intestine, whatever is there, is definitely not laughing). Because I love him and because I’m his mother, I can laugh even though his actions are continually bringing me pain. I can laugh at his innocence and relate to his struggle to act out his free will. It’s a lovely reminder to me of this wonderful God I have who maybe cannot completely laugh at the ugliness of sin in His perfection, but still looks fondly down at me when I am kicking my feet at Him, completely understanding the urge to act out that free will He gave me and yet He again so gently redirects me. Hopefully I continually live up to His example with my strong willed little boy.
For whatever reason, I think this is the funniest thing. I have two nieces and an adopted niece, all under 13 months old. I get the biggest kick out of watching their natural sin nature kick in even at their young ages. At 13 months old, my little niece is starting to learn the word “no” (always one of their first words). However, this is not where it starts. Oh no! At 8 months old, babies are fully capable of a full out fit if they don’t get their way. Even at 3 months or earlier they start developing this distinct cry in which you can totally hear, “That’s not fair! I’m not getting my way! I refuse to be happy simply because I’m not getting my way!” I have seen little babies that are just learning to crawl find out the evil thrill of the response you get from biting your little friend. Once they find any mobility (walking, crawling, even rolling over) we all know exactly where the first place they go to is. The forbidden territory is always the highlight. What’s a little toddler boy’s first response to a bug? Stomp! Utter domination and destruction! I can’t help but chuckle when I see this natural reaction from children.
Why in the world do I find it funny? I mean, sin is sin and sin is a very nasty thing. Well, perhaps it’s because they’re sinning with such innocence. They’re not hiding behind pretenses or feeling guilty for their behavior. That is something they also learn how to do pretty fast, but I love how little children originally just let that sinful attitude out without trying to pretty it up. It’s so honest. I love seeing that same ugliness that I like to hide when I sin just coming out. It reminds me of how ugly sin really is. It reminds me about how like a selfish, fit throwing child I really am. That sinning child is inside all of us, but we make it a lot uglier by trying to pretend it doesn’t exist. Trying to blame our sins on others. Babies don’t care who is keeping them from eating fast enough, they just know that they aren’t being satisfied quickly enough for their tastes. Babies don’t hide behind pretenses and throw out cutting remarks to mom about her lack of skill in meeting their needs. Nope, they just let that ugly squeal out that we adults like to turn into telling remarks, vengeful behavior and whatever other evil thing we can think of all the while pretending to be so righteous. Well, I’m not sure that I explained that as best I could or that that paragraph is completely theologically accurate, but you get the idea.
Now, I know what you other moms are thinking. It’s just not that funny when it’s your terrible two throwing a fit in Walmart over candy. Well, my turn has already come. My baby still has approximately 8 more weeks to cook and he’s already showing that hilarious little sin nature that makes him human. He’s got this one spot that he likes to put his foot in. It’s right on one of my organs right under my rib. He will push on that organ until it’s on fire and feeling like it’s going to burst. He’ll do this for hours. When he gets tired of that, he moves his foot a little farther up and pushes either on my diaphragm or right on my lungs, I’m not sure which. It causes me to have what feels like half capacity in that lung and gives mommy a panic attack when she can’t breathe. It even makes me quite light headed. Now, I completely understand that he is out of room and has no idea what he’s doing. That’s why mommy spends her day (yes, literally most of my day) gently pushing his foot into a new location. How does he respond to this? Well, you’d think that when he puts it immediately back that he’s just innocently not getting it. Maybe partially true. But the real truth comes out around the third time when he gets tired of being moved. That’s when he declares war. We literally have a strength war between my hand and his foot as he pushes back refusing to be moved yet again. He is ridiculously strong for such a little thing and he is very determined to win!
What is really going on? I call it “The War of the Ribs”, but really it’s a war of the wills. We are all born (really, conceived) with a God-given free will. We love to use it. It’s not that he doesn’t have another place to go. It’s not that he’s completely oblivious to my request. Not that I’m saying he’s a criminal mastermind fully capable of plotting the destruction of the world at this stage in life, but he does know a few things. He knows that he is being moved and he knows that he can move. He also knows that he doesn’t like it and sure as heck doesn’t want to. Sure enough, after enough wrestling he will eventually move to a new location. The amount of persuasion I have to give him though does not bode well for dealing with his terrible twos.
Maybe you think I’m crazy or imagining things. Well, due to the extreme lack of space for my little 8 month old son we do this battle throughout the day. It really takes him no time at all to fall asleep for his typical 30 minutes, wake up forgetful of last play time, and pretty quickly get himself back into his favorite position. In fact, “The War of the Ribs” is going on as we speak. Somehow I’m still able to laugh as he yet again gets frustrated and gives me several huge, quick kicks in obvious anger (mind you my galbladder, appendix, or small intestine, whatever is there, is definitely not laughing). Because I love him and because I’m his mother, I can laugh even though his actions are continually bringing me pain. I can laugh at his innocence and relate to his struggle to act out his free will. It’s a lovely reminder to me of this wonderful God I have who maybe cannot completely laugh at the ugliness of sin in His perfection, but still looks fondly down at me when I am kicking my feet at Him, completely understanding the urge to act out that free will He gave me and yet He again so gently redirects me. Hopefully I continually live up to His example with my strong willed little boy.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
I'm Back!
I have been very remiss about writing over the last few months. Between a crazy summer schedule, current lack of internet at home, and general busyness I haven’t even thought about my blog for a few months now. A lot has changed…and a lot remains the same. So here’s an update of my life over these past summer months. I will warn you, my life is pretty much baby, baby, baby. Not that everything else isn’t upside down, but baby kind of takes all of my attention these days. Oh and yes, it’s long. What’s new.
End of May: Things kind of got better after my last post. I’ve surprisingly only had a few breakdowns so far from pregnancy hormones and that was the big one. Pregnancy wise, things were pretty terrible in May. I have never been so miserable in my entire life! Not much else happened it May. It was mainly a month of surviving pregnancy. I have to admit, I barely made it.
June: Started off with a bang! We found out we were having a boy, little Roen Alexander. I was still sick as a dog, but things were starting to get more fun. My hubby could finally feel the baby moving and somehow knowing the name and sex finally helped me to bond with Roen. I suppose it sounds terrible that after five months I still had not bonded with my little guy, but up to that point I was spending more time with the toilet than with my guy. Thankfully, he finally stopped feeling like a parasite and more like a baby.
Baby finally started taking a back burner this month. First, my closest friend in Colorado found out that her husband of three years had been racking up secret debt since they were married in an amount approaching one million. Ouch. Thankfully, it was all spent on silly little things and not on other women, but still… I’ve since spent most of my summer trying to encourage them and help them try to gather the pieces of their marriage. They are both non-Christians, but it’s been neat watching God work in their lives and pursue them doggedly. I have a feeling things might change in that department soon.
Then we got kicked out of our house. Ok, not literally. We’ve been living with my in-laws for a year and they decided to put the house up for sale. We had to move it or lose it by July. Talk about stressful! Especially considering we had a baby coming, no money and only four weeks of notice. Luckily, we found a sweet deal on a beautiful townhome and the in-laws wonderfully offered to cover most of the moving cost and deposit.
July: I have no idea how we made it through this month. Can I just say that we both went over and over our budget in June. We knew that there was no way we were going to be able to survive financially this month or the months to follow. Somehow each month we not only ended up in the clear, but with extra. Only God knows what happened there.
So we made the dumb decision to be packed to move before vacation, go on vacation, and move the day after we got back. Yikes! Talk about financial and physical ruin. Not to mention that we had to help the in-laws get the house ready to go on the market before we left. This was a crazy month! We somehow made it.
The best news of this month is baby news. The last week in June I finally started feeling better! I panicked a bit in July when my medication cost changed and I was forced to go it alone. However, I have since made it with not one day of sickness! THANK YOU GOD!!!! I finally had energy and felt a lot less out of my mind. Roen was not only moving, but showing personality and developing habits. My hubby and I had fun playing with him this month.
August: We took another little vacation with no money. My grandparents had their 50th anniversary party and we were told that we were expected to be in attendance. Somehow that all worked out too and we had a lovely time.
Which brings us up to the present. I am now 30 weeks pregnant and getting so close! I’m feeling so good and am so thankful that I finally got a reprieve! I still have problems such as I can no longer sit comfortably for any length of time, I can’t lay on my back, I’m up and down all night, and my toilet is still my friend although this time just because I am literally on a 5-15 minute pee schedule (my toilet paper bill is through the roof!), but that is nothing compared to before. I’m beginning to think that even being kept up all night by a newborn will feel like nothing compared to the first 5 ½ months of pregnancy.
Our problems are now in other areas. I have no idea what I am going to do for a job when this baby comes. I have had absolutely no luck finding a nanny job. I just recently started a temporary, super part time nanny job for a 3 month old and it’s making me second guess even staying home with my son. Children are so much work! Especially infants. Plus, I have this huge desire to teach kids or do church music professionally. I’m really missing not being involved with music at church and really missing teaching kids. I was hoping to find a job before I go on maternity leave, but am quickly realizing that probably won’t happen. I’m trying to find my way and trying to be patient and trust God to provide. He has all summer so surely He won’t just drop us come October. Just trying not to panic, since there really is nothing I can do.
Basically, my life is just on hold until this baby comes and I get settled into a new job. I am just battling fears about if I can handle all of the above and if it will work out. I thought I knew what I had coming or at least an idea. Becoming a parent has been the hardest and scariest thing I could ever imagine. Even though I wouldn’t trade it for the world, it’s not because it’s amazing or fun, but rather because it’s meant to be. And after all, who would send their child back, especially once they began meeting their baby? So my life is just in God’s hands for now. I’m just waiting to see where that takes me and learning to be still and trust.
Of course, looking back at these few months I really have nothing to complain about. I am no longer living with my in-laws, we have a beyond beautiful home that I love, we are able to pay our bills and our rent, and, best of all, I am finally feeling better! I have only gained 15 pounds with this pregnancy and am healthy, tiny, and very happy. I have no complaints.
End of May: Things kind of got better after my last post. I’ve surprisingly only had a few breakdowns so far from pregnancy hormones and that was the big one. Pregnancy wise, things were pretty terrible in May. I have never been so miserable in my entire life! Not much else happened it May. It was mainly a month of surviving pregnancy. I have to admit, I barely made it.
June: Started off with a bang! We found out we were having a boy, little Roen Alexander. I was still sick as a dog, but things were starting to get more fun. My hubby could finally feel the baby moving and somehow knowing the name and sex finally helped me to bond with Roen. I suppose it sounds terrible that after five months I still had not bonded with my little guy, but up to that point I was spending more time with the toilet than with my guy. Thankfully, he finally stopped feeling like a parasite and more like a baby.
Baby finally started taking a back burner this month. First, my closest friend in Colorado found out that her husband of three years had been racking up secret debt since they were married in an amount approaching one million. Ouch. Thankfully, it was all spent on silly little things and not on other women, but still… I’ve since spent most of my summer trying to encourage them and help them try to gather the pieces of their marriage. They are both non-Christians, but it’s been neat watching God work in their lives and pursue them doggedly. I have a feeling things might change in that department soon.
Then we got kicked out of our house. Ok, not literally. We’ve been living with my in-laws for a year and they decided to put the house up for sale. We had to move it or lose it by July. Talk about stressful! Especially considering we had a baby coming, no money and only four weeks of notice. Luckily, we found a sweet deal on a beautiful townhome and the in-laws wonderfully offered to cover most of the moving cost and deposit.
July: I have no idea how we made it through this month. Can I just say that we both went over and over our budget in June. We knew that there was no way we were going to be able to survive financially this month or the months to follow. Somehow each month we not only ended up in the clear, but with extra. Only God knows what happened there.
So we made the dumb decision to be packed to move before vacation, go on vacation, and move the day after we got back. Yikes! Talk about financial and physical ruin. Not to mention that we had to help the in-laws get the house ready to go on the market before we left. This was a crazy month! We somehow made it.
The best news of this month is baby news. The last week in June I finally started feeling better! I panicked a bit in July when my medication cost changed and I was forced to go it alone. However, I have since made it with not one day of sickness! THANK YOU GOD!!!! I finally had energy and felt a lot less out of my mind. Roen was not only moving, but showing personality and developing habits. My hubby and I had fun playing with him this month.
August: We took another little vacation with no money. My grandparents had their 50th anniversary party and we were told that we were expected to be in attendance. Somehow that all worked out too and we had a lovely time.
Which brings us up to the present. I am now 30 weeks pregnant and getting so close! I’m feeling so good and am so thankful that I finally got a reprieve! I still have problems such as I can no longer sit comfortably for any length of time, I can’t lay on my back, I’m up and down all night, and my toilet is still my friend although this time just because I am literally on a 5-15 minute pee schedule (my toilet paper bill is through the roof!), but that is nothing compared to before. I’m beginning to think that even being kept up all night by a newborn will feel like nothing compared to the first 5 ½ months of pregnancy.
Our problems are now in other areas. I have no idea what I am going to do for a job when this baby comes. I have had absolutely no luck finding a nanny job. I just recently started a temporary, super part time nanny job for a 3 month old and it’s making me second guess even staying home with my son. Children are so much work! Especially infants. Plus, I have this huge desire to teach kids or do church music professionally. I’m really missing not being involved with music at church and really missing teaching kids. I was hoping to find a job before I go on maternity leave, but am quickly realizing that probably won’t happen. I’m trying to find my way and trying to be patient and trust God to provide. He has all summer so surely He won’t just drop us come October. Just trying not to panic, since there really is nothing I can do.
Basically, my life is just on hold until this baby comes and I get settled into a new job. I am just battling fears about if I can handle all of the above and if it will work out. I thought I knew what I had coming or at least an idea. Becoming a parent has been the hardest and scariest thing I could ever imagine. Even though I wouldn’t trade it for the world, it’s not because it’s amazing or fun, but rather because it’s meant to be. And after all, who would send their child back, especially once they began meeting their baby? So my life is just in God’s hands for now. I’m just waiting to see where that takes me and learning to be still and trust.
Of course, looking back at these few months I really have nothing to complain about. I am no longer living with my in-laws, we have a beyond beautiful home that I love, we are able to pay our bills and our rent, and, best of all, I am finally feeling better! I have only gained 15 pounds with this pregnancy and am healthy, tiny, and very happy. I have no complaints.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
"Happy" Mother's Day
It is my first Mother’s Day today and I have never needed my mother so much. My mother tried hard to be here even before I knew I wanted her to be, but she couldn’t. She’s far away. So instead I am alone. I sit here on the bathroom floor alone. I cry in my first Mother’s Day. It is week 15 of pregnancy and week 9 of the 24/7 stomach flu. Just when it’s supposed to be going away, week 9 turns out to be the worst week yet. I have cried more this week than I have the whole pregnancy. So far, I have been mostly courageous, patient, and stoic. This week even getting out of bed is overwhelming enough to elicit tears of despair. I cannot get enough sleep. I cannot eat. I am now eating only a quarter or less than the usual amount of food in my diet. I have lost 2-3 pounds this week alone. I am worried about my baby, but have no real reason to go to the doctor. No real answers or hope of my situation changing. I am worried about my sanity. And right now when I need help the most, I am alone.
My poor husband is at the end of his rope with my constant stomach emergencies. As seen in my writing, it is all about me. I don’t know how to change that. I live in a constant state of survival. I am trying so hard, but this week especially I cannot meet his needs and need him to meet too many of mine. There is no one else to support me and he is doing it alone. He is beginning to resent that and I understand. But I am alone. My mother has done her best to encourage me from afar and to try to come to me. But she is not here. She cannot shield me from things nor can she hold me while I cry. I am alone. My mother-in-law has made it repeatedly clear this week that she resents the work and money my presence has thrust upon her and cannot get past her own resentment to see my struggle. I cannot be the perfect daughter-in-law, though I have tried so hard. For a year of living with them, I have tried. I cannot keep my space clean when I cannot even eat. She is not there. I tried to share shopping for a crib with her and she blows me off. I tried to share buying a crib with her; desperately needed someone to celebrate buying a crib with me. She doesn’t care. She didn’t even want to see it. I tried to tell her my agony this morning. She looks at me and asks, “are you sick or just pregnancy sick?” Just? Do you have any idea what 9 weeks of the stomach flu are like? No, she doesn’t actually. She was never stomach sick with her kids. I start to crack and tell her politely that I am so tired of being sick. I’m sure she can see the despair in my eyes. She flippantly tells me to get some rest and walks away. No sympathy there. Who is left? I am alone. My God who loves me and cares for me is there. But right now honestly, I want someone in the flesh. I want someone to be a mother for me on this Mother’s Day when it is too much to face alone being one myself.
So here I sit on the bathroom floor at 7:00 in the morning. I am supposed to be at church singing of love, faith, and the goodness of God. Yet, I cannot even steal myself to leave this warm, safe bathroom. I am supposed to be in bed “getting some rest” and cuddling with my husband. Yet, I cannot stop or hide my tears and I dare not wake him up for fear of seeing that resentment in his eyes. If I can’t sleep, I should at least be getting the house ready for Mother’s Day dinner to make up for not going to church today. After all, I’m sure my mother-in-law has already added this morning to her lists of resentments. But there is something so cold and big and alone about downstairs. I cannot face it. So I sit in my tiny warm bathroom, which feels safe and oddly comforting. Maybe it’s the amount of time the toilet and I have spent together lately. I am surrounded by tissues and feeling quite sorry for myself. Yet, I cannot feel guilty. I am mourning. I am mourning my loss of a mother. I am grown. I now have to face my nightmare alone. And that is reason enough to cry.
What would have changed today? Rejoicing. God just blessed me with a gorgeous baby crib for next to nothing. It is a huge mile marker. Celebrations quickly turn sour when there is no one else to celebrate with.
A card. Yes, I know I do not have a baby in my arms, but I am sacrificing enough for a child to be considered a mother. This is my first Mother’s Day. My mother has tried to send a card. Thank you, Mom. Of course, my mother-in-law has not even considered myself or my sister-in-law with her new baby as things to be celebrated on Mother’s Day. My husband in true manly fashion honestly has no idea. He will be wonderful next year, but he has no idea of my need now. And I would rather not receive something from him than to ask yet another thing of him. So I expect nothing.
Some sympathy. Just because I’ve felt sick for 9 weeks, does not mean I am used to it. It does not mean that I do not have especially bad days. It does not mean that I do not need a hug or even a heartfelt “I’m sorry.” Just because I receive this comfort from strangers and acquaintances does not mean that that is enough. I cannot do this myself. I need help and support and love.
So am I writing this to gain yet more sympathy from strangers and friends who read this? No. That is the last thing I need. It is mortifying for me to put such a selfish piece onto a public blog. I'd rather hide in my warm bathroom and pity myself. But we need truth. The mothers who feel forgotten, my mother who I never thanked enough, they need you to know this. The young mothers who are struggling with the hardships of pregnancy, they need support and love. The family members of these moms who don’t understand, they need to understand and they need to love. And the young moms like me who are so ready to give up, you need to know you are not alone. And it is worth it. Do I really believe that this morning? No. Is it normal to not believe that? Yes. What I want to do this morning is to stop fighting, stop eating, just throw up and stay in bed. Just give up, get so sick that either the hospital will take care of me and I can get rest or I lose this baby and I’m done. Sound over dramatic? No, I actually had these thoughts. Yet, even this morning, every part of my being screams that it is worth it. I cannot give up. I must keep fighting for every meal to stay down for my baby. I must keep working to make the money that will support my baby. I must keep fighting for my marriage so that my baby has a good strong home.
After years of never quite understanding why we celebrate Mother’s Day, I now understand. I also understand that it cannot and will not ever be celebrated enough. Mothers will always be under appreciated, always be alone, but it is their refusal to give up that makes Mother’s Day worth celebrating. Maybe this won’t be my last Mother’s Day that I will celebrate alone on the bathroom floor with tears, but even today I will celebrate the gift of motherhood and Mother’s Day that God has given to me.
My poor husband is at the end of his rope with my constant stomach emergencies. As seen in my writing, it is all about me. I don’t know how to change that. I live in a constant state of survival. I am trying so hard, but this week especially I cannot meet his needs and need him to meet too many of mine. There is no one else to support me and he is doing it alone. He is beginning to resent that and I understand. But I am alone. My mother has done her best to encourage me from afar and to try to come to me. But she is not here. She cannot shield me from things nor can she hold me while I cry. I am alone. My mother-in-law has made it repeatedly clear this week that she resents the work and money my presence has thrust upon her and cannot get past her own resentment to see my struggle. I cannot be the perfect daughter-in-law, though I have tried so hard. For a year of living with them, I have tried. I cannot keep my space clean when I cannot even eat. She is not there. I tried to share shopping for a crib with her and she blows me off. I tried to share buying a crib with her; desperately needed someone to celebrate buying a crib with me. She doesn’t care. She didn’t even want to see it. I tried to tell her my agony this morning. She looks at me and asks, “are you sick or just pregnancy sick?” Just? Do you have any idea what 9 weeks of the stomach flu are like? No, she doesn’t actually. She was never stomach sick with her kids. I start to crack and tell her politely that I am so tired of being sick. I’m sure she can see the despair in my eyes. She flippantly tells me to get some rest and walks away. No sympathy there. Who is left? I am alone. My God who loves me and cares for me is there. But right now honestly, I want someone in the flesh. I want someone to be a mother for me on this Mother’s Day when it is too much to face alone being one myself.
So here I sit on the bathroom floor at 7:00 in the morning. I am supposed to be at church singing of love, faith, and the goodness of God. Yet, I cannot even steal myself to leave this warm, safe bathroom. I am supposed to be in bed “getting some rest” and cuddling with my husband. Yet, I cannot stop or hide my tears and I dare not wake him up for fear of seeing that resentment in his eyes. If I can’t sleep, I should at least be getting the house ready for Mother’s Day dinner to make up for not going to church today. After all, I’m sure my mother-in-law has already added this morning to her lists of resentments. But there is something so cold and big and alone about downstairs. I cannot face it. So I sit in my tiny warm bathroom, which feels safe and oddly comforting. Maybe it’s the amount of time the toilet and I have spent together lately. I am surrounded by tissues and feeling quite sorry for myself. Yet, I cannot feel guilty. I am mourning. I am mourning my loss of a mother. I am grown. I now have to face my nightmare alone. And that is reason enough to cry.
What would have changed today? Rejoicing. God just blessed me with a gorgeous baby crib for next to nothing. It is a huge mile marker. Celebrations quickly turn sour when there is no one else to celebrate with.
A card. Yes, I know I do not have a baby in my arms, but I am sacrificing enough for a child to be considered a mother. This is my first Mother’s Day. My mother has tried to send a card. Thank you, Mom. Of course, my mother-in-law has not even considered myself or my sister-in-law with her new baby as things to be celebrated on Mother’s Day. My husband in true manly fashion honestly has no idea. He will be wonderful next year, but he has no idea of my need now. And I would rather not receive something from him than to ask yet another thing of him. So I expect nothing.
Some sympathy. Just because I’ve felt sick for 9 weeks, does not mean I am used to it. It does not mean that I do not have especially bad days. It does not mean that I do not need a hug or even a heartfelt “I’m sorry.” Just because I receive this comfort from strangers and acquaintances does not mean that that is enough. I cannot do this myself. I need help and support and love.
So am I writing this to gain yet more sympathy from strangers and friends who read this? No. That is the last thing I need. It is mortifying for me to put such a selfish piece onto a public blog. I'd rather hide in my warm bathroom and pity myself. But we need truth. The mothers who feel forgotten, my mother who I never thanked enough, they need you to know this. The young mothers who are struggling with the hardships of pregnancy, they need support and love. The family members of these moms who don’t understand, they need to understand and they need to love. And the young moms like me who are so ready to give up, you need to know you are not alone. And it is worth it. Do I really believe that this morning? No. Is it normal to not believe that? Yes. What I want to do this morning is to stop fighting, stop eating, just throw up and stay in bed. Just give up, get so sick that either the hospital will take care of me and I can get rest or I lose this baby and I’m done. Sound over dramatic? No, I actually had these thoughts. Yet, even this morning, every part of my being screams that it is worth it. I cannot give up. I must keep fighting for every meal to stay down for my baby. I must keep working to make the money that will support my baby. I must keep fighting for my marriage so that my baby has a good strong home.
After years of never quite understanding why we celebrate Mother’s Day, I now understand. I also understand that it cannot and will not ever be celebrated enough. Mothers will always be under appreciated, always be alone, but it is their refusal to give up that makes Mother’s Day worth celebrating. Maybe this won’t be my last Mother’s Day that I will celebrate alone on the bathroom floor with tears, but even today I will celebrate the gift of motherhood and Mother’s Day that God has given to me.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Priorities
It is so funny how quickly your life can change around. Just a few months ago my dream was to work as a worship director at a church. I was loving working at my church. I was beyond excited for the challenge of my hopefully upcoming job at another church. Then I got pregnant. Now I don't have time for my work at the church and it has frankly sunk way low on my priority list. I am dreading, dreading, dreading the possibility of getting the job at the other church. How in the world can my lifelong dreams change in a few short months? I knew in theory that it stinks to work when you have children, but now I know it on a whole new level. Right now, there is nothing in my mind besides getting through pregnancy and raising my child. Everything else is just taking from that time. Do I still want that job? Well yes, because I know I would regret not getting it, I'll want it more someday soon, and it really is the best option financially right now. Although one of the biggest reasons is because if I took that job I would be able to stay home with my baby. Pathetic, maybe. As much as I don't want our lives to revolve around our children, I just can't help being singleminded at the moment. Some of that could be because it's hard to look at the world around you when your heads in the toilet, but not all.
Here's the weirdest thing. I'm experiencing this on a level of the inevitable loss of independence from having children. I'm actually saddened that my life has taken this turn and almost yearning for life to go back to normal. Of course, only almost because I wouldn't change my baby for anything in the world. But still, I wonder if my life will ever get back to normal. Will I ever have my own goals and dreams again or will my life just be centered around my family? I can't help but think that neither extreme is healthy. I mean while I am terrified of becoming a Stepford Wife, I still wouldn't miss my baby's life by being a professional mom. At the same time, I don't want to give up my God-given calling just because I'm happier with my kids. Hopefully I'll be able to find a better balance. For now I will go on waiting for things to fall into place and trying not to be stressed out by the future. Yeah, easier said than done. I have visions of being up all night Saturday for the fourth night in a row with the baby and having to get up early to make a service happen. Bleh. Our mother's were truly super heroes. I'm not even thinking quality right now, but merely hoping I can do this.
On a side note, I have noticed that most of my posts lately have been negative and about change. Maybe because I'm a pretty negative person and my life is all about change right now, but still no fun. :) So, here's an update on baby bean. It is almost 3 inches long. It has arms, legs, joints, and can even suck it's thumb. It's moving around all over the place twitching and getting the nerves ready to move muscles and just starting to learn how to command it's muscles to do things. Researchers say that if you could see it or feel it, you would start being able to detect a personality. It really is a little person even though it's only 3 inches long. Amazing. In the next four to five weeks, I'll hopefully be able to feel it. On the outside, it has given me a wonderful (sarcastic) early baby bump. Which is really awkward when people notice my bump, ask how far along I am, and then get this puzzled look when I say only 11 weeks. Oh well, the bump was inevitable and enables me to wear super comfy maternity pants. It's actually starting to be a good and exciting experience. Thank goodness!
Here's the weirdest thing. I'm experiencing this on a level of the inevitable loss of independence from having children. I'm actually saddened that my life has taken this turn and almost yearning for life to go back to normal. Of course, only almost because I wouldn't change my baby for anything in the world. But still, I wonder if my life will ever get back to normal. Will I ever have my own goals and dreams again or will my life just be centered around my family? I can't help but think that neither extreme is healthy. I mean while I am terrified of becoming a Stepford Wife, I still wouldn't miss my baby's life by being a professional mom. At the same time, I don't want to give up my God-given calling just because I'm happier with my kids. Hopefully I'll be able to find a better balance. For now I will go on waiting for things to fall into place and trying not to be stressed out by the future. Yeah, easier said than done. I have visions of being up all night Saturday for the fourth night in a row with the baby and having to get up early to make a service happen. Bleh. Our mother's were truly super heroes. I'm not even thinking quality right now, but merely hoping I can do this.
On a side note, I have noticed that most of my posts lately have been negative and about change. Maybe because I'm a pretty negative person and my life is all about change right now, but still no fun. :) So, here's an update on baby bean. It is almost 3 inches long. It has arms, legs, joints, and can even suck it's thumb. It's moving around all over the place twitching and getting the nerves ready to move muscles and just starting to learn how to command it's muscles to do things. Researchers say that if you could see it or feel it, you would start being able to detect a personality. It really is a little person even though it's only 3 inches long. Amazing. In the next four to five weeks, I'll hopefully be able to feel it. On the outside, it has given me a wonderful (sarcastic) early baby bump. Which is really awkward when people notice my bump, ask how far along I am, and then get this puzzled look when I say only 11 weeks. Oh well, the bump was inevitable and enables me to wear super comfy maternity pants. It's actually starting to be a good and exciting experience. Thank goodness!
Friday, March 26, 2010
A Miracle of God's Love
She had been married for five years, when my good friend looked at me and asked with innocent honesty, "I hear all of these songs on the radio about loving someone so much you can't imagine life without them, wanting to always be with them, loving them no matter what. Are those songs true or is it just a fairytale? Does that love really exist between other couples? I have never experienced anything like that." Those words broke my heart. What could I say? I couldn't lie to her. When I nodded my head yes and told her brokenly that my husband and I could completey relate to every one of those thoughts I watched her crumple.
They had married straight out of a Christian college. He was a smart, charismatic man who was terrified of the very thought of people seeing the real him. He knew that he had never finished much of anything in life and that he was not always a good person. Instead of facing these facts honestly, he blamed everything on somebody else and took out the resulting guilt on those he loved the most. He never accepted responsibility for anything, but rather tore his wife down to make himself feel better. His verbal abuse took five years to ring a bell of warning in his wife. She had grown up with a verbally abusive father and for her it was just the norm. What's worse, growing up with such abuse, she believed every word of it. They both had big problems, which meant their marriage had bigger problems. The difference was that she was desperately looking for ways to change and to fix it. He was not.
A few weeks later we were at a coffee shop when she looked at me, willing me to understand, and told me she was seriously considering leaving her husband. We both cried. How as a Christian can you think of or promote such an action? Yet, after much prayer and thought, we both knew what she had to do. From the beginning she held out hope that her husband would soon see the error of his ways and be willing to consider changing. She wasn't asking for much. She had no hopes of love, a white picket fence, or even the ability to involve children in their unhealhty marriage, just for safety and honesty. It was very difficult to keep my skeptism to myself. After working with people like her husband for most of my life, I knew that there was no way he was going to change. The chances were a million to one. When someone makes it their lifestyle to avoid truth at all costs, they typically won't change their habits even for their spouses or children. On top of that, I was pretty sure that neither one of them had ever really loved the other. It was a typical case of falling in love with love and the stability of marriage.
My friend and I prayed. We fasted. We read books. They went to counselors. We tried everything. The day came when there was nothing left to try and my friend felt God pushing her to separate. A month later she finally realized what I had been trying to warn her of all along. Her husband was not interested in change. If there was going to be a change, it would not take months to accomplish, but rather years. We both refused to admit defeat, although I think we both were almost out of hope deep down. I kept encouraging her to pray with expectation for God to answer. Funny that you can pray for a miracle and still be surprised when it happens.
Three months ago he moved back in and yet I held on to my skeptism, waiting for everything to blow up again. Today, almost exactly a year from the date where my friend asked me about love, we found ourselves once again at Starbucks. As she casually talked about how they were doing, she unmindfully said something that brought tears to my eyes. She simply said, "I know he loves me..." That was the first time I have ever heard her say that with confidence and truth. Almost a year after my friend realized she would probably lose her farce of a marriage, I listen to her and see that both of my friends have fallen for each other. Wow. When did that happen, God?
Today, they are back together. Her husband is making it a regular habit to admit his mistakes. He is making extreme efforts to fix his marriage and to show love for his wife. She has learned how to be honest and to stand up to her husband with the truth. She is now so used to the happiness and peace at her house that she is shocked when her simple updates move me to tears. They still have their problems. But then, what marriage does not? It is not problems that ruin a marriage, but refusal to face them.
That day she told me about her impending separation, we had both decided to do an experiment. We had nothing left to lose, nothing much left to try, and we felt that God was asking us to simply believe. We would both pray, we would both believe that God would answer our prayers for restoration, and if He chose not to, we would both still believe He was good. I think I prayed more for this than for anything else in my life. How is it then that I am shocked to see it occur? God is truly good. Does that mean life is a bed of roses? Heck no. But it means that we are in good hands. It means that He can heal even the most hopeless situation. It means that not everything turns out like we'd like, but every now and then He pulls out all of the stops and hands us a beautiful gift. Thank you, Father.
They had married straight out of a Christian college. He was a smart, charismatic man who was terrified of the very thought of people seeing the real him. He knew that he had never finished much of anything in life and that he was not always a good person. Instead of facing these facts honestly, he blamed everything on somebody else and took out the resulting guilt on those he loved the most. He never accepted responsibility for anything, but rather tore his wife down to make himself feel better. His verbal abuse took five years to ring a bell of warning in his wife. She had grown up with a verbally abusive father and for her it was just the norm. What's worse, growing up with such abuse, she believed every word of it. They both had big problems, which meant their marriage had bigger problems. The difference was that she was desperately looking for ways to change and to fix it. He was not.
A few weeks later we were at a coffee shop when she looked at me, willing me to understand, and told me she was seriously considering leaving her husband. We both cried. How as a Christian can you think of or promote such an action? Yet, after much prayer and thought, we both knew what she had to do. From the beginning she held out hope that her husband would soon see the error of his ways and be willing to consider changing. She wasn't asking for much. She had no hopes of love, a white picket fence, or even the ability to involve children in their unhealhty marriage, just for safety and honesty. It was very difficult to keep my skeptism to myself. After working with people like her husband for most of my life, I knew that there was no way he was going to change. The chances were a million to one. When someone makes it their lifestyle to avoid truth at all costs, they typically won't change their habits even for their spouses or children. On top of that, I was pretty sure that neither one of them had ever really loved the other. It was a typical case of falling in love with love and the stability of marriage.
My friend and I prayed. We fasted. We read books. They went to counselors. We tried everything. The day came when there was nothing left to try and my friend felt God pushing her to separate. A month later she finally realized what I had been trying to warn her of all along. Her husband was not interested in change. If there was going to be a change, it would not take months to accomplish, but rather years. We both refused to admit defeat, although I think we both were almost out of hope deep down. I kept encouraging her to pray with expectation for God to answer. Funny that you can pray for a miracle and still be surprised when it happens.
Three months ago he moved back in and yet I held on to my skeptism, waiting for everything to blow up again. Today, almost exactly a year from the date where my friend asked me about love, we found ourselves once again at Starbucks. As she casually talked about how they were doing, she unmindfully said something that brought tears to my eyes. She simply said, "I know he loves me..." That was the first time I have ever heard her say that with confidence and truth. Almost a year after my friend realized she would probably lose her farce of a marriage, I listen to her and see that both of my friends have fallen for each other. Wow. When did that happen, God?
Today, they are back together. Her husband is making it a regular habit to admit his mistakes. He is making extreme efforts to fix his marriage and to show love for his wife. She has learned how to be honest and to stand up to her husband with the truth. She is now so used to the happiness and peace at her house that she is shocked when her simple updates move me to tears. They still have their problems. But then, what marriage does not? It is not problems that ruin a marriage, but refusal to face them.
That day she told me about her impending separation, we had both decided to do an experiment. We had nothing left to lose, nothing much left to try, and we felt that God was asking us to simply believe. We would both pray, we would both believe that God would answer our prayers for restoration, and if He chose not to, we would both still believe He was good. I think I prayed more for this than for anything else in my life. How is it then that I am shocked to see it occur? God is truly good. Does that mean life is a bed of roses? Heck no. But it means that we are in good hands. It means that He can heal even the most hopeless situation. It means that not everything turns out like we'd like, but every now and then He pulls out all of the stops and hands us a beautiful gift. Thank you, Father.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
People that ever want to be a mom, read at your own risk.
Does it make me a terrible mom that I already hate being pregnant? That I cannot seem to get too excited as of late? That I almost resent this parasite, who I still love dearly, but nevertheless is a parasite that is sucking the life out of me and turning my own body against me? I apparently have been really negative about this whole process lately as people keep trying to cheer me up, telling me how lucky I am and how excited I should be. All I can say is, let me see them be excited when their heads are in the toilet. It's amazing that a tiny ultrasound blob that is only one centimeter long can screw up/bless my life so royally.
I keep trying to come up with reasons to justify why I am not enjoying pregnancy and already dreading the next one (borrowing trouble just a little bit there). I really hate change and this reeks of my typical negative attitude and freaking out that accompanies life changes. Or it could be that my entire body is changing and everything hurts constantly and everyday is a struggle to get through. I mean, when the basics (sleeping, going to the bathroom, eating) are a nightmarish struggle, that is some cause for anxiety. It could be that I'm freaking out about being a parent, although I don't think that's it. I feel pretty prepared and am frankly counting down the days till this baby can come out and at least I can get my stomach back. Maybe it's because I, unlike some girls, have seen a lot of pregnancies and know what to expect. There are no rose-colored glasses guarding me from seeing into the next seven months of happy hell. So what is the deal? Why can't I get excited about this? Maybe I'm just a terrible person.
My theory is that I'm completely normal. You see, the happy things in pregnancy eventually block out the bad. I've seen this with moms who just went through an atrocious delivery process only to forget everything the minute that baby is in their arms. I think women just get to the second trimester of their pregnancy, their body feels better, they can feel their baby kicking, and they just forget how horrible the last four months have been. It's like God-made memory drugs.
So what's the moral of this story? If you'd ever like to have kids, don't talk to someone about their experience until they're well past their first trimester. Better yet, wait till their kids are toddlers and they are reminiscing about the old days of having babies.
In the end, even though I felt really prepared for pregnancy, I really had no idea. I knew at least to some extent how much a baby changes your life once it comes out. I've seen how much that baby takes over your body once you start looking like a whale. However, I was not prepared for how much this baby would change my life starting a mere 10 days after it's conception. I had no idea I'd start running the marathon this early.
Wow, that's a lot of negativity. Don't get me wrong, I am really glad that I'm pregnant and excited for this baby, but right now my brain is kind of caught up in daily survival. When I can make it through a day again semi-normally and I can see/feel this baby more, I think I will be able to get much more excited. The one thing I do know is that my mother was a epic hero, a strong soldier, a superhero. Hope I can measure up...
Or at least make it to the second trimester.
I keep trying to come up with reasons to justify why I am not enjoying pregnancy and already dreading the next one (borrowing trouble just a little bit there). I really hate change and this reeks of my typical negative attitude and freaking out that accompanies life changes. Or it could be that my entire body is changing and everything hurts constantly and everyday is a struggle to get through. I mean, when the basics (sleeping, going to the bathroom, eating) are a nightmarish struggle, that is some cause for anxiety. It could be that I'm freaking out about being a parent, although I don't think that's it. I feel pretty prepared and am frankly counting down the days till this baby can come out and at least I can get my stomach back. Maybe it's because I, unlike some girls, have seen a lot of pregnancies and know what to expect. There are no rose-colored glasses guarding me from seeing into the next seven months of happy hell. So what is the deal? Why can't I get excited about this? Maybe I'm just a terrible person.
My theory is that I'm completely normal. You see, the happy things in pregnancy eventually block out the bad. I've seen this with moms who just went through an atrocious delivery process only to forget everything the minute that baby is in their arms. I think women just get to the second trimester of their pregnancy, their body feels better, they can feel their baby kicking, and they just forget how horrible the last four months have been. It's like God-made memory drugs.
So what's the moral of this story? If you'd ever like to have kids, don't talk to someone about their experience until they're well past their first trimester. Better yet, wait till their kids are toddlers and they are reminiscing about the old days of having babies.
In the end, even though I felt really prepared for pregnancy, I really had no idea. I knew at least to some extent how much a baby changes your life once it comes out. I've seen how much that baby takes over your body once you start looking like a whale. However, I was not prepared for how much this baby would change my life starting a mere 10 days after it's conception. I had no idea I'd start running the marathon this early.
Wow, that's a lot of negativity. Don't get me wrong, I am really glad that I'm pregnant and excited for this baby, but right now my brain is kind of caught up in daily survival. When I can make it through a day again semi-normally and I can see/feel this baby more, I think I will be able to get much more excited. The one thing I do know is that my mother was a epic hero, a strong soldier, a superhero. Hope I can measure up...
Or at least make it to the second trimester.
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