Almost 4 years ago now I had a conversation with a childhood friend while we sat in her living room watching her 3 kiddos and my one son play. I asked if they were planning on having any more and she responded with an exhausted chuckle, "3 is enough!" I remember thinking she was crazy to think that. I, at the time was just beginning to experience what it was like to have a child walking around the house getting in to everything. I had NO idea what I was in for in the coming years. Though I STILL cannot see us having only 3 children, I think three is quite enough, for now. So much so, in fact, that I've been looking into a more permanent form of birth control. The ones that don't rely on my consistency from day to day, but just sit and do their job for 3 years. I don't know that it will be 3 years, but it might. We'd love to adopt next, but it's hard for me to even begin praying about that possibility during THIS season of my mothering.
I took Elijah on a date last night, just him and me, and he was SO very excited about it! We were headed out to the car and skipping, he said in a sing-songy voice, "Going on a date. Just me and MOMMY!" My dear friend has her 31st birthday on Saturday and set up a 5k (3.1 miles....get it? She's so clever!) in honor of turing 31. I'm not usually competitive, but she's giving bags from the "Thirty-One" company (I know, she's SO clever!) for 1st, 2nd and 3rd place. I WANT a bag! So I've been running whenever I can this week. Last night was my last night to run before the race, but I felt convicted that I should do a date with Elijah instead. So I did it. And we really had fun! I've been frustrated with his seeming lack of progress these last few months. Sometimes it feels for us like we've got a reign on his behavior and other times it feels like we have an almost 5 year old that still acts like his 2 1/2 year old brother. It will never cease to amaze me how getting OUT with just ONE of my children gives me an entirely new and fresh perspective on who they are! I still had to ask him to stop doing things that he does every other time we are in public, but I was calm about it, instead of irritated. I didn't have a 2 1/2 year old and a 10 month old to wrangle as well. I was able to pour all my attention into JUST him and he didn't seem so unmanageable to me. At all! It was so refreshing. We sat and ate our frozen yogurt while he poured out one question after another about whatever his little brain was noticing. Normally his questions exhaust me, but they didn't last night. I just answered them the best I could, and some of the times even answered them with HUMOR! I know! It's nuts! I was able to have FUN while answering his questions! It's incredible how much harder it is to have a sense of humor or wonder about anything while lugging 3 little boys around all at the same time. It seemed to easy to have just him! God KNEW I needed that last night. I may have burnt off some angst if I had run last night, but I would NOT have woken up with the perspective on Elijah that I did this morning, had I not forfeited my run for a date with him. We moved Elijah to the guest room (for the millionth time) last night after Judah proved to me incapable of NOT talking to him. Judah was still awake and blabbing at 9pm! And hour after he's normally alseep. This has been a frustrating reality for weeks now and regardless of the punishment we use, it's just.not.stopping! I layed in bed and tried to fall asleep from 9:15 until 10:30 - thats the last time I checked the clock. Joel woke up at 5:40 when Josh was in and out of the dresser getting clothes. He started fussing from the closet he sleeps in (I know...) which shares a wall with the boy's closet. It wakes Judah up every.morning! Judah was up at 5:50, after not falling asleep until 9:30. I tell you what...9 hours of sleep is NOOOOOOOT enough for a 2 1/2 year old boy! He's been telling me by 9am every day that he's "tired" and "ready for nap". He didn't go back to sleep. At all. He just sat in his room and screamed at me from the tippy top of his lungs. Phew. That boy has got some serious lungs. And again, regardless of the punishment used to try and stop this screaming, it just doesn't.stop. On top of all this I had woken up in the night with a fever and sweats and felt like a smashed toad on the road when I woke up this morning. Sleep is the ONE thing that can get rid of this virus and I'm not really getting enough of it!
I've been on the receiving end of comments like, "I just don't think you are cut out to have a big family." Or, "Why would you ever think about having more children or adopting!?" Ouch. I want a big brood. Ever since I met my husband and saw his family's dynamic (he's the 2nd of 7 children), I've wanted a lot of kids. I see the reward my beautiful and gracious mother-in-law has in her multiple children who have indeed risen up to call her blessed. My dear friend that shares in my exhuastion (having 3 littles herself) and has seen me at my worst with my boys gave me a mother's day card this year that said several encouraging things and ended with "I KNOW you will have children that will rise up and call you blessed!". (Thank you Joia! That card came in the NICK of time!) I have had family that has encouraged me gently in the areas that I am lacking while praising the areas that I am doing well. I have friends that I've wept to about my struggles with patience and keeping my temper tell me that I am NOT alone!
Life is an interesting road. I have dear friends and family who LONG with all they are to be blessed with a child to raise. Here I sit LONGING for time away from my children! They are able to be in the midst of their situation and graciously and patiently wait on the Lord's timing, and keep the complaining to a minimum, or to not complain at ALL! I'm exhuasted from wiping poopy butts, scraping dried caked food off the floor, table, walls and chairs. I'm exhuasted from saying countless times a day, "please stop screaming", "do NOT speak to mommy that way", "you may NOT hit your brother!". I'm exhausted from not ever having enough sleep. I'm exhausted from not being able to do some of the other things I love, like working in the garage, or working on my "Booties For Food" project, which has suffered greatly in the past few months. I'm exhausted from always having 3 littles who depend on me completely for food, drink, safety. It's a seriously taxing job and anyone who thinks that stay at home moms have it easy, .....I have words for you!
Speaking GENTLY to my children is a true challenge for me. I love that I have very dear friends that have confirmed to me that this is VERY normal thing! That in this, I am NOT alone! It seems to make logical sense that if something is said louder and harsher it will get the point across better. Of course this is not the case, but that is usually the realization that comes AFTER it's said, not before.
There's no fancy transitions in this post, not catchy hooks at the beginnings of the paragraphs that probably shouldn't even be new paragraphs. It's not organized. I just needed to write it. This is why I feel like 3 is enough right now.
There are so many parts of motherhood that I will look back on and miss once my little boys are grown and not under our roof anymore. Many of these same things are the reason why, this morning, I sat on the kitchen floor and cried when I bent down to wipe up the millionth puddle of spilt orange juice that was streaked down the cabinet. Elijah asked me after I got back up and came to sit with them while they ate breakfast, "Will this help you stop crying Mommy, if I tell you I love you very much?"... This is why I do what I do. Because I love my boys more than I can describe. I feel that most of the time I'm too exhausted to be a great mother (and I KNOW that I'm not alone in this!), but I love my boys and will continue to humble myself at my Creator's feet begging for wisdom and strength to finish this season of my life with a resounding bang of victory! For this is the task that he has called ME to!
Friday, May 25, 2012
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Grieving with non-aquaintences
I thought about it even through The Hunger Games. I've thought and dreamt about it since Monday morning when I found the blog, and then Tuesday afternoon when my husband walked in the kitchen after being at the computer and said, "The baby with the bucket list died." I've been off and on painting my room for the past month and tried to finish it here in this naptime, but I had to stop after only a couple strokes of the brush and come downstairs to type this. My mind had been completely preoccupied by the pain that I can only imagine these people are feeling. These people that lost their baby girl to SMA (many of you know who I'm writing about) this past Monday not even a month after they found out she had it, and that they'd be losing her for sure before she turned two. They didn't even have a MONTH to prepare.
I slept today during naptime for 30 minutes or so and I dreamt about her, about them. I dreamt about the nauseating pain that mama is feeling everytime she wakes up in the morning thinking that she hears her sweet baby's coos only to be reminded that Avery is gone for good. Everytime she sees one of the dirty diapers in the trash pail that she changed not even 48 hours ago. Everytime she looks at the bathmat she had just given her a bath on. Everytime she smells her precious little clothes and sees those precious little pink shoes sitting my the front door. Everytime she sees that picture of Avery smiling that her husband took not 20 minutes before Avery's heart failed. Everytime she takes a breath, wishing beyond all reason that she could squeeze her baby. That she could make her smile. Not one last time, like everyone says. Thats ridiculous! But for ALL her days! For all her days until SHE dies, not till the baby dies! No mama should have to bury her baby. There's just too.much.pain!
I don't know this pain. I don't know the twisting in the gut. I've lost relative babies, and that pain was horrid. But I've never lost one of my own. I laid on the ground in the living room and cried so hard I thought my eyes would shrivel up when I found out my sister-in-law was going to lose her sweet Jude. I don't think I cry for the babies. Maybe briefly. But for their mamas. Oh for their mamas! The babies don't know the difference, and compared to what they are seeing with their perfect eyes, and what they are experiencing with their flawless bodies now, the times of joy life in this world can bring doesn't hold a candle to sitting on Jesus' knee. Maybe that sounds calloused. I don't think being calloused about this is something I struggle with. I'm happy for the babies. Even jealous. But for their mamas!
In these kinds of cases, in particular, I wonder if Eve had been given the opportunity to see even ONE of the pain that these mothers would have to go through, would she have changed her mind about how persuasive the serpant seemed? Would she have just laughed in his face and said, "screw you! Go to hell!" Or, in her weak human flesh would she still have been too drawn in. What severe consequences we see for living in a broken world!
So, my hold up is, God has blessed me with a gift of empathy with others. I KNOW that being able to empathize with other's pain is important. I KNOW that it is Godly, but I find myself having hard time stepping out of that and being able to come back to reality in a timely manner. Like when my parent's got divorced. It made me physically sick for MONTHS, partly because I was so distraught over the loss of my immediate family's one-ness, but a lot because it was so hard to see that pain that came with breaking off a 29 year marriage.
I know it's good to weep with others, I just sometimes can't seem to stop. With this, this recent wave of babies dying (probably mostly because it's being more publicized now), there seems to be just one slam of grief after another. Even when I don't know them. I've never met them. Maybe because I have a baby of my own right now? It makes me sick to my stomach to think of not waking up to his sweet, "ma ma" in the morning! It makes me sick to my stomach to think of not being able to squeeze him and kiss his sweet chunky neck.
I know what part of the problem is! It's that poor bastard Satan! He uses my empathy as a tool to drive fear into the deepest parts of who I am! What a sick bastard! What a sorry son of gun he is! Go to hell, you sicko! Phew. Sorry about that cussing.
I weep for these parents because of their immediate loss. The pain of their immediate loss, but I think that one of the reasons I'm hung up on them in-particular is because there is NO mention of seeing her again ANYWHERE on their blog. I'm pretty sure there's no reassurance in their hearts that they will. Which to me in the most unimagineable thing possible! To lose a baby and be hopeless that she's just gone for good. There's no joy. No more Avery ever, not even after death. If only they knew they could see her sweet precious smile again! Dear GOD I hope someone in their life sees this need in them. Maybe they are saved, but the way the blog is written, there's no indication of it. You can see your baby again, people! It may be a long time, and the road is going to SUCK! But you can see her again! And take heart that she is living in pure glory right now! And hold tight to Jesus! With tears soaking my computer table, I am SO sorry you can't hold your baby! Oh the pain!
And with all that being said, I think it's ok for me to read less.
I slept today during naptime for 30 minutes or so and I dreamt about her, about them. I dreamt about the nauseating pain that mama is feeling everytime she wakes up in the morning thinking that she hears her sweet baby's coos only to be reminded that Avery is gone for good. Everytime she sees one of the dirty diapers in the trash pail that she changed not even 48 hours ago. Everytime she looks at the bathmat she had just given her a bath on. Everytime she smells her precious little clothes and sees those precious little pink shoes sitting my the front door. Everytime she sees that picture of Avery smiling that her husband took not 20 minutes before Avery's heart failed. Everytime she takes a breath, wishing beyond all reason that she could squeeze her baby. That she could make her smile. Not one last time, like everyone says. Thats ridiculous! But for ALL her days! For all her days until SHE dies, not till the baby dies! No mama should have to bury her baby. There's just too.much.pain!
I don't know this pain. I don't know the twisting in the gut. I've lost relative babies, and that pain was horrid. But I've never lost one of my own. I laid on the ground in the living room and cried so hard I thought my eyes would shrivel up when I found out my sister-in-law was going to lose her sweet Jude. I don't think I cry for the babies. Maybe briefly. But for their mamas. Oh for their mamas! The babies don't know the difference, and compared to what they are seeing with their perfect eyes, and what they are experiencing with their flawless bodies now, the times of joy life in this world can bring doesn't hold a candle to sitting on Jesus' knee. Maybe that sounds calloused. I don't think being calloused about this is something I struggle with. I'm happy for the babies. Even jealous. But for their mamas!
In these kinds of cases, in particular, I wonder if Eve had been given the opportunity to see even ONE of the pain that these mothers would have to go through, would she have changed her mind about how persuasive the serpant seemed? Would she have just laughed in his face and said, "screw you! Go to hell!" Or, in her weak human flesh would she still have been too drawn in. What severe consequences we see for living in a broken world!
So, my hold up is, God has blessed me with a gift of empathy with others. I KNOW that being able to empathize with other's pain is important. I KNOW that it is Godly, but I find myself having hard time stepping out of that and being able to come back to reality in a timely manner. Like when my parent's got divorced. It made me physically sick for MONTHS, partly because I was so distraught over the loss of my immediate family's one-ness, but a lot because it was so hard to see that pain that came with breaking off a 29 year marriage.
I know it's good to weep with others, I just sometimes can't seem to stop. With this, this recent wave of babies dying (probably mostly because it's being more publicized now), there seems to be just one slam of grief after another. Even when I don't know them. I've never met them. Maybe because I have a baby of my own right now? It makes me sick to my stomach to think of not waking up to his sweet, "ma ma" in the morning! It makes me sick to my stomach to think of not being able to squeeze him and kiss his sweet chunky neck.
I know what part of the problem is! It's that poor bastard Satan! He uses my empathy as a tool to drive fear into the deepest parts of who I am! What a sick bastard! What a sorry son of gun he is! Go to hell, you sicko! Phew. Sorry about that cussing.
I weep for these parents because of their immediate loss. The pain of their immediate loss, but I think that one of the reasons I'm hung up on them in-particular is because there is NO mention of seeing her again ANYWHERE on their blog. I'm pretty sure there's no reassurance in their hearts that they will. Which to me in the most unimagineable thing possible! To lose a baby and be hopeless that she's just gone for good. There's no joy. No more Avery ever, not even after death. If only they knew they could see her sweet precious smile again! Dear GOD I hope someone in their life sees this need in them. Maybe they are saved, but the way the blog is written, there's no indication of it. You can see your baby again, people! It may be a long time, and the road is going to SUCK! But you can see her again! And take heart that she is living in pure glory right now! And hold tight to Jesus! With tears soaking my computer table, I am SO sorry you can't hold your baby! Oh the pain!
And with all that being said, I think it's ok for me to read less.
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