Need

Need. I work with those is grave need all day long. I work to help stabilize homeless families, families that are oppressed with the cycle of abuse, families that believe bed bugs and cockroaches are a norm. I work with kids who have more life experience at 13 than I do at 31, and not in a good way. I see need constantly in the media. In Aleppo, in the middle east, in our own county. I feel a huge weight when I see the need for racism to cease, for unnecessary authoritative policing to decline, for black men to live through traffic stops. I see need for families to reconcile, for broken relationships to start building again, for cancer to be gone once and for all. I see the need to love and embrace all people, of all color, of all genetic, biological, or altered makeup. There is a lot of need around me. What I fail to see though, is my own need. I have been taught that helping others, is necessary. And I agree. Not only is it necessary, it is in the very core of who I am as a person. It's the job I get paid to do, and the motherhood role I fulfill dutifully. I see need. I address need. Well, others' need at least.

I've seen a theme recently though, and in my life, God is pretty thematic. I really feel like I'm learning more about what it means to need. Sounds pretty basic right? Well, bare with me. I'm a complex individual :)

As a child, and the oldest at that, I was taught to be independent. A very, very good skill to have. My parents taught me how to put gas in the car way before I could drive, they taught me how to write checks before I fully understood what exactly I was writing, and complex problem solving skills? You better believe it. My parents were pretty intentional about ensuring that if something happened to them, I could easily take care of myself and my younger brother no matter the stage of life or age they departed. I'm so very grateful for these skills they taught me, and would not have changed a thing. Somehow though, in all that independence teaching, I distorted the idea of being self-sufficient, into an idea of having no needs. I was good at school, got a full ride academic scholarship to NAU, and a choral scholarship every year I was in school. Things appeared to come easy to me because of my work ethic and independence. People called me a "leader" and later on even a "world changer." I started to embody these foretellings of my life, and didn't have many set backs due to failure. Failure wasn't an option. It wasn't vocabulary in my book. But my leadership skills had become an obsession to have it all put together. And I was all put together until my life trajectory changed while I was teaching. For the first two years I taught, I totally ignored my needs. I gave myself nothing. I didn't get sleep like I should have, I didn't take breaks like I should have, I didn't relationally recharge like I needed to--nothing. And like that snowball picking up speed and weight as it drives downhill, so was my mental and physical well-being. Down, down, down it went to a crashing halt at the bottom of the hill. I scrambled to find out my purpose, my calling, I couldn't be seen in this devastation for long because I'm strong! I have no needs! Patrick was the only one, and maybe German, who really saw me at my lowest at that point. So I found my purpose and my mission, and ran full speed ahead. The problem is that I didn't address my needs then either. So I'm running, not jogging, running towards my goal, and WHAM! someone throws an obstacle in my way. I fall on my face, cry, but pick myself back up again. I have to keep going. I must be strong. I get back to running speed again, and WHAM!! a brick dropped on my head from above. Didn't even see that one coming! I'm pretty beat up and bruised. I'm down for longer, but eventually I get up again and gain speed once more. Did I address my own needs? Of course not. Gotta keep going. So this pattern continues, because "smart" people like me need a lot of obstacles I guess before they have the "smart" thought to try something different. Until finally I reach a point, 2016, where my needs cannot be ignored any longer.

Then it was like I had all the needs. Every one. My marriage was in need. My finances were in need. My mental health was in need. My parenting was in need. My relationships with friends were in need. And the biggest one: my relationship with God was in big need. But rather than see the situation for what it was...me having HUGE needs...I turned away from God. I remember the day I was texting a friend whom I confided in about my lack-luster relationship with God so clearly. "I believe in God, that's not an issue for me. But in all of this, I'm wondering why he doesn't care about my needs? I mean, a good relationship to me is two-sided, and I feel nothing from the other end. I feel only giving from myself, and pouring out what I don't even have to give. So I'm done with it. I'm going to do this on my own, because I can." My beautiful friend sat with me in my hole. She didn't bring in her shovel to help me out, she just hugged me and gave me hope. A couple of weeks later we were texting again about faith things, and I was telling her that in my deconstruction of faith I feel like I have less answers to questions that people ask, but if I had the answers what would be the need for God? And then WHHHHHAAAAAMMMM!!! like a slow-mo lightning bolt, it hit me. Here I've been trying to do this all on my own, and I've had no need for God. I mean, no real need. But when everything I've known to be good was being called into question, suddenly I understood the need for a being of infinite love, a being that far surpasses my own intellect, and frankly probably laughs at how long it took me to figure all this out "on my own." I understood the need for God. And with it, came the knowledge of all the other needs that I do in fact have. The needs started to float up in front of my face, like gravity had taken a momentary break for this special life lesson I was enduring. Now my need for peace in my home became abundantly evident. I have a need to connect with my husband on a daily basis and in specific ways. I need to feel loved, cared for, valued, treasured, by those closest to me. I need to have a clean house 50% of the time. I need to be working toward my career goals, all while embracing my role as a mother. I treasure the time I have with my children, and I need to be present with them as often as possible. I need to regroup, breathe and be mindful before I go to sleep. So many many needs.

It's so easy to see the hurt, the pain and the devastation in the world, or even close to you. The challenge is recognizing and acknowledging your own need. A need that someone else has does not make your need invalid or less than. It does not make your need magically disappear. All people have needs, and it's important not to run past them, because eventually when left unaddressed, needs become monsters that are much harder to slay than if you had just ushered the monster to the place next door. Address, acknowledge, and move along.

I'm continuing to learn about needs, as this is one of the bleakest times of our lives financially that Patrick and I have experienced together. I'm still being reminded that relationships have needs that are unique to each, and as an individual I need to say no more often to others and yes more often to myself. I no longer think I am strong and capable apart from God. Now, I gain my strength from the Lord. He is my source of strength, and provides for my every need. I challenge you to sit down and make a list of the needs you see in those around you, and those in yourself personally. See the needs, acknowledge them, and then create a plan to address a couple of the needs on your list. A worthwhile activity for sure. And in the meantime, find someone you trust, and be honest about your needs.

I conquered sugar for 21 days!! Now what...

Ok, so I did it! I went 3 whole weeks without bread, flour, sugar of any kind (including honey, maple syrup or any sugar substitute), corn, beans, and rice. Quite miraculous I think. I mean, those things were basically my diet prior to this sugar fast. So I did this to do two things: see if I had a sugar addiction (I do/did), and to rebalance my hormones which have been as wack as wack gets for the past...TWO years! Thank you second born. No, I probably can't blame him. I'm the one that is addicted to sugar.

Here was a quick run down of my three weeks...

Day 2-I took a nap (which I hardly ever do) and woke up with the shakes. When I read this prior to my fast I sort of laughed about it being compared to an actual drug. Turns out, withdrawal symptoms are legit. I was withdrawing from my addiction already by day 2. Talk about quick! I started crying because there was no denying I had a true addiction.

Week 1-Really difficult. I made the mistake of not having an eating plan. I just decided I would go for it. Looking back, I'm glad I did just start because I might not have otherwise. There's always an excuse for something like this, and I knew that about myself. BUT, you gotta do research and recipe look ups before you're limited to basically meat, veggies and cheese. The first week was incredibly difficult.

Week 2-I started to get the hang of things, went to the grocery store with a plan, and stuck to it. I still dreamed of cookies and every candy or piece of cake that crossed my path was like the devil himself. I noticed a significant decrease in my waistline. Part of it I'm sure was that my intake decreased, but by the time I went back to consuming tons of food in week 2 (see above week when I had no plan, and felt like I couldn't eat anything), I was still losing. ::TMI:: I noticed I basically had no gas. Didn't realize that being bloated was a thing for me until it was gone. It's amazing the things you don't know are there until they're gone! I felt pretty icky though, and felt like I stunk constantly. Everyone I told this said they didn't smell anything...probably just being too nice...but I felt like my body was detoxing through my pores. It felt gross. I had next to no energy too, which was disappointing. I was eating constantly. Like all day long in week 2.

Week 3-I was still dreaming of sweet things for sure, and felt a little hopeless at the beginning of the week. I thought nothing was going to change if I literally could not get sweet things off my mind. I texted a friend who gave me a good pep talk, and I decided to change my attitude about the whole thing. And what do you know, it worked! I counted down the days, and started appreciating food for it's nutritional value and taste. Before I was emotionally eating all the time. And that's my biggest struggle still--doing something productive with my stress rather than upping my happy hormones with my go-to gummies.

So it's been two days off my sugar fast, and I've noticed some pleasing results. I lost 5 pounds, and most in my abdomen. This has been the most encouraging thing because I still have diastasis recti (abs separated) from pregnancy, but the fat that collected around my stomach pooled only around the unsupported area. Basically, I looked like I was still pregnant because I had fat in the front, not the sides, and it bulged out where my abs were separated. I for sure looked pregnant. But now it's so much better. Huge help for the self-esteem!

The other result that has been great is my knowledge of food and ability to make nutritious meals with mostly produce. I think it's even changed my family's way of eating as we don't have snacky foods in the house anymore. Now snacks aren't crackers or several squeezy pouches of apple sauce. Snack is raw veggies, or hummus, leftovers, healthy fats like avocado or some fruit. Still working on the apple sauce pouches, because man its easy! But the kids will devour a Costco size box in a week, and there's better options than that. So we keep working on it.

Mentally speaking, I think things have mostly improved. I feel more level-headed, less of the really low lows, and my mind feels sharper. Like I'm able to think more clearly without the "fog." I think that's the hormones getting into check.

Something that's a little disappointing: I still think constantly about crap food. Constantly. But now I recognize it. Like yesterday I was thinking all day about those chocolate hazelnut cookies from TJs. After a while I thought, "Why do I really want these?" and figured out that I was craving a treat, some "me" time, and a pat on the back for achieving something. I wanted to celebrate. So instead, I took a bath after a busy and stressful day and it felt wonderful. I don't know how long this will last, but hopefully the longer I eat well the more routine this will become. We went to brunch with my parents in Carlsbad this weekend, and saved a blueberry muffin that came with my meal. The muffin smelled amazing, and I was thinking about it that whole day. Emerson took a few bites that night, and I thought to myself, "It's Sunday night, which is basically Monday, which means I can have a single bite of this muffin I've been dreaming about all day." And I did. And the way it smelled and what I created it to be in my mind (true euphoria), was not at all how it tasted. It was ok. So I had no desire to take another bite simply based on the idea that it was delicious, because it was just okay. I had the same experience with some grapes yesterday. After just a few my tongue was overwhelmed with the sweetness. WILD! This coming from the woman who could eat the entire bag or box of anything sweet in one sitting. The peach was great though.

So now what, you ask? Well, I'm happy that I have a resource, and now the experience to do a sugar fast if things get out of hand again. I'm being realistic and saying that it is likely. This next week I'm introducing fruit back into my diet and still limiting sugar. After that I think I'm going to follow the 80/20 idea. I heard on a podcast that this mother of young children eats really well 80% of the time, and the other 20% she allows herself some "cheat" foods. Which really means like an occasional bowl of cereal (that is already low in sugar), or an occasional dessert on the weekend (homemade coconut ice cream). I really liked that idea when I heard it, and thought it was something that I could realistically follow. As a general rule of thumb, I'm going to try not to buy bread or use flour anymore. There's just nothing nutritious in it, but it tastes soooo good, right?? So not going to buy it, and it won't be a constant temptation in my house.

Monetarily, we spent much less on groceries and food these three weeks than prior to my fast. I think there are probably two reasons for that: 1. Food in a box costs a lot of money either because it's more expensive, or because you eat more of the box of $4 crackers/cookies than a $1 cucumber. And since we had to make everything, we went out to eat maybe twice. I feel like our fridge was always full too and pantry was pretty bare. So there was always some real food to eat. It just takes a little creativity.

There you have it my friends. Sugar fast complete. I highly recommend doing something like this if you have health problems, and then when you reintroduce things back into your diet, listen to your body to figure out what it likes and what it doesn't. Eating well takes a lot, I mean A LOT of work! I was doing dishes all day long. But looking back, I'm so glad I did it. It's a very very small sacrifice to make in this journey of optimal health. Best of luck to you on your own journey!

Spoken like a true addict

If you haven't heard already, I'm doing a 21 day sugar fast, and it blows. I knew I loved sugar, but I was curious how it was affecting my body. I found this test that said basically if you eliminate these things from your diet for 21 days and respond this way, you have an addiction. If you respond this other way you have sugar malabsorbtion, and if nothing happens then you're good. Well, I've gone through withdrawl, including physical symptoms like shaking hands, so I think it's safe to say I have a sugar addiction. I wish I could say this was a joke, because it sounds so stupid to say that my addiction is to sugar. Anyhow, it has only been 5 days so far, and this experience has been eye-opening for sure. I've had two huge realizations over these 5 days.

First, sugar is in e-vry-thing. EVERYTHING! Do you know how difficult it is to find something at any grocery store with no sugar in it? Finding a needle in a haystack I'm certain is much easier. And this specific fast is not just sugar, its absolutely any form of sugar, including fruit, including carbs of any kind, corn, rice, beans, juice. Yeah, it's rough. Having to make an intentional effort to find something without sugar is work. It's depressing, it's upsetting, and it's eye-opening. More on that later.

Second, I realize how much I rely on sugar as my coping mechanism. This is huge. I was telling Patrick tonight how I don't know how to go on after these 21 days and change things because it feels so impossible. Sugar is weaved into our culture. When you have a birthday, do you eat steamed broccoli and grilled chicken?! NO!!! You have a birthday cake and ice cream. When you get married, you feed each other cake. Holidays are all around candy and sweets. And still at the beginning of the fast (hungry, tired and depressed) I feel hopeless that I will ever be able to get rid of sugar despite my greatest efforts. What's more is...I'm not sure that I want to. Patrick chuckled and said, "That's like saying you don't know how to have fun without alcohol." "I could give up alcohol in a heartbeat." "Of course, because that's not your addiction." Alright, point made always-right-when-I-hate-it-most husband. I said, "What if I like my sugar addiction? What if I'm not ready to give it up?" It's okay if you laugh a little to yourself, I mean those questions sound downright ridiculous because we're talking about sugar. Not talking about cocaine or heroin, no meth, I'm not an alcoholic, it's sugar for goodness sakes. So I'm clearly not ready to part yet. And then I got to thinking, why am I so reliant on this drug?

I considered long and hard the feeling of eating some of my favorite kinds of cookies from TJs, or the gummies I crave so often. I felt my tongue actually start to feel those things, yern for them...stupid mouth it's only been 5 days. Then I considered my stage of life--this season I'm living in. Mom of two young boys, working, financially in a pretty desolate place, emotionally spent, friend relationships running on fumes, looking for a new job, no one has so much as called me back, right now life is so challenging. So of course I have my vice. Of course I reach for a box of something to numb out. Of course I need to feel pleasure in a pretty low time. And if I'm being honest, I'm a little scared to think that I need to give that up. Spoken like a true addict. Because I need something, I really do. And sugar hasn't hurt me yet. I know that logically it must have already ruined my body chemistry (I'm convinced of this from the past two years), but when you don't have a tumor specifically from your fructose intake, it's pretty easy to think, "I'm still okay." And what toxic thinking. The thinking of a true addict.

So right now I'm in bargaining. I've got a long ways to go, but I hope at the end of these 21 days I'll have a serious revelation about what specifics need to change. I want to be healthy. I want to be a good example for my kids and not hide in the other room to eat something I don't want them eating because it's garbage. I want to respect my body and treat it as worthy of being honored, not just dumped on with crap. So hopefully my brain chemistry changes at the end of these 21 days like they say. Hopefully my hormone levels start to balance out. And hopefully other circumstances change so I won't feel the need to turn to my favorite treats for celebrating, or numbing out. I have incredible respect and appreciation for those with an addiction of any kind. It's lonely because no one understands, and its difficult to live with the many physical, spiritual, emotional and social aspects of an addiction. Gonna try to keep strong. Let's go day 6!!!!

The good 'ol RNC

It's funny the emotional stages I've gone through with my FB feed. Intense anger, utter grief and sadness, and now I feel like everything is one big joke. It's probably not the best way to approach things, but I'm not sure my human mind can receive all the latest info and process in a worthwhile way. There's too much, and it (feels) really extreme. I'm pretty sure the fact that Trump is in the running to become the president of the United States wins the cake on this "surreal" time...like, have you ever really thought about what that means????? But wait, there's more! For only $9.99 you have, intense hatred of your fellow human being, violence galore, and pastors that claim Trump is a God-send. I don't claim to know all that God is, and you should seriously wonder if someone proposes that they do, but I have enough respect for the Creator of life to think that I don't want to be within miles of those who claim such preposterous things, for fear I may get swallowed up by the earthquake or struck by the lightning bolt too out of sheer proximity. So, it all feels like a joke. I swear I'm losing dendrites with every stupid meme I see that talks about the presidential candidates. And lest I think that these people are joking...ah, I'm reminded of the circus that is going on in Cleveland right now. So my friends, put your normal television viewing aside momentarily, grab a glass of wine, and let's laugh together at the comedy sketch...err...Republican National Convention that is in our midst. :)

I will not be silent anymore

My heart has been so heavy with grief in the past few weeks. There has been shooting after shooting, bombings everywhere, and people being killed for no damn good reason. There is so much hate in the world it is absolutely disgusting. ISIS, or whatever you want to call them, is destroying the human race, and so are their brother groups in other countries like Boko Haram and so many others that are thriving on the carnage of innocent people. The foreign world is in such turmoil, and it's seeping into our culture. It's breaking through into our hearts. That's right, not our land, our culture and lives. This is not about securing our borders, although idiots running for president would like you to think so. This is about how we, you and I, are allowing prejudice, racism, and hatred propel forward. And it needs to stop, now.

I just heard about Philando Castile, a black man, who was shot and killed by a police officer for a broken tail light. Castile was pulled over for his broken light (something I've been pulled over for at least 5 times on my Civic), and when the officer pulled him over asking for license and registration, Castile said he had a permit and a pistol--he was trying, I would imagine, to cover his bases. I mean, I would have done the same thing--I'm letting you know ahead of time that I am in possession of this thing so you don't get spooked later when you find it. I would've done that exact thing if I carried a gun. Except when he went to his pocket to provide the license from his wallet (isn't that where *most* people have their license??!) he was shot four times. Let me be clear. He gave the officer a heads up that he owned a gun. Then he went to provide the officer with what was asked of him. And he was killed. In front of his girlfriend and her four-year-old daughter. It really leaves me asking the question, "Under what circumstance would he *not* have been killed?" I mean, he was complying with the officer's orders. Had he not, I'm sure it would've been just as terrible. No doubt the non-compliance would have escalated to him being shot anyway.

So this is our problem. OUR problem. We are all one humanity, and if you live on Earth this is your problem too. It's time to start changing the system that is so oppressive to undeserving people. We cannot sit in silence anymore. When you say nothing you are part of the problem. Does that sting for you like it does me? It should. You should be so outraged at what is going on in our world, and if you aren't, seriously ask yourself why. I'm not here to judge or condemn anyone--thankfully that's not my job :) But I am here to say that you need to speak up. Don't be apathetic. Be a voice for the voiceless. Use your two working hands to write a quick email to someone in leadership, or a non-profit that works on advocacy. Make yourself informed, don't stick your head in the sand. I know it's discouraging to see so much negative in politics and the media, but my friend, it will not stop unless you make it. I can't do it for you. You must do your part.

Denzel is going to be four in a couple of months, just like that little girl that witnessed a policeman kill a grown man in front of her own little eyes. The one who can never erase that from her memory, and will always see the effect it had on her mother--forever. I weep at the thought that she will be forever changed by that experience. And it didn't need to happen that way. I cannot imagine my own son witnessing an event like she did. And yet, I have to make him aware of our current system, and how he has to intentionally go against the grain in order to stand up for those he loves. My son's best friend is black. His family are some of our closest friends. I'll never forget the day that he came home and said, "Mommy, I want to be dark brown like A." I was speechless. The innocence in seeing that his best friend was a wonderful person, and so why wouldn't he want to be just like him? In due time though, Denzel will need to learn that not everyone is as loving as he is toward his best friend. And the feelings that are totally opposite from his are all based on sweet little A's skin color. I anticipate that he won't understand, and maybe even be brought to tears as my strong-feelings-boy would be. I know that his empathy will be spurred into action though, as we teach him to step up into protecting his friend, as a white male. It is his job. And I know he will, because he doesn't have the prejudice that so many of us adults do. Teach your children, and don't shy away from racial issues. Empower them to stand strong against hatred, because they'll need to hear your voice amongst the world. If you don't have children, you have a sphere of influence. Someone listens to you--start talking. Humanity is not getting better, but there is always hope. It is time to take action.

The day of your birth

Family and friends have all gone home. Food is mostly eaten, with a few leftovers in the fridge. The backyard is full of water toys, and chalk, and borrowed lawn chairs and tables. The trash is ready to take out, and your birthday cake sits half dug into on the counter. Today we celebrated your 1st birthday. One whole year its been since you've joined this side of the dry world, and I sit here in the silence of the aftermath and I am so emotional thinking about all the implications of what tomorrow (your actual birth day) brings.
  

My first emotions are just feelings of overwhelmed. The party, although low-key, had a lot going on. People came and went, I was keeping track of two children around water, getting things for this person and that, making sure people felt welcome, my kids were fed, I was talking enough to my family, telling helpers where this decoration goes and to place that beverage placed over there. It's a lot. And of course I wanted a pinterest perfect party. I know, big mistake. It's a lot of pressure to think that anyone cares about the edible seaglass that you made. Yes. That was on the pinterest board for this party. NO. I didn't get around to it. And then, sweet child, you did NOT take a nap today. So you were not the most pleasant of children to be around come 3pm when people began to arrive. I did nurse you and let you nap for an hour, because let's be honest, a screaming birthday child is not exactly what we came to celebrate. Although, it is your party, and you can cry if you want to. But it's all over, and you're in bed, and I'm left with my thoughts.

There are so many things I want to remember about this past year, Emerson. First, you are your name my son. Emerson means brave and powerful, and you embody those two things. You have from the beginning. From the 3rd, yes the 3rd contraction, you showed your power. Much like your brother before you, you made it clear that you were ready to come out with intensity and force. 10 hours I labored with you (you would think it was a breeze after 40+ with your brother!) until I decided it was time to go to the hospital. The doctor wanted you out via cesarean, but I was stubborn. Not dumb, just stubborn. I knew he measured you the day before labor at our appointment at 11 lbs 12 oz. Well, what do you know, those dumb machines were right. You came out 11 lbs 13 oz. I was quite familiar with labor. I was ready for another 40+ hour labor, and convinced myself that it would be worse case scenario pain-wise, but was honestly hoping for only a 24 hour labor. Well, you were powerful, and all the Bradley method, positive affirmations, bathtub sitting didn't hold a candle to your strength my son. I threw in the towel after 10 hours of contractions every couple of minutes apart. I remember telling Amy, your aunt and a fabulous doula, that I was ready for the hospital and if they say I'm only 5-6cm I'm telling them I'm ready for a c-section. I threw in the caveat that if I was 8-9cm, I might try to push and see how it goes. I wanted to leave myself an open door because after hearing about all the risk of vaginally delivering an almost 12 pound baby (from a person of my stature)...risks that included death, although that didn't scare me, and rectal incontinence, yup, that was the deciding factor right there, I needed to tread lightly and not be so rigid in insisting my birth plan be followed to the t. I still remember that 15 minute car ride to the hospital. I had a contraction every minute, it was miserable. I remember covering my face with a pillow too so people didn't see the agony and wonder...not that I cared. I could have been butt naked and walked through the hospital for all I cared. What is it about labor that you just don't care about your looks or state of being? Maybe it's just me? Anyway, I digress. I still remember insisting that I walk down the hall to labor and delivery, and not being able to even walk across the lobby! My eyes were closed the entire time, and I heard, "She needs a wheelchair" "She doesn't want a wheelchair" "get her a wheelchair" "She's having bad contractions." It was like chaos all around me, and I kept my face in that pillow. Finally my legs planted into the ground, I could not shuffle a step further, and they brought me a wheelchair. I remember them asking me questions and saying, "Oh wow, you must be having strong contractions" No shit Sherlock. The nurse checked me and said plain as day, "5-6, and the head is way up there." Emerson, it was like a switch in my brain. I opened my eyes and said, "I'd like a c-section please." I turned it off. I turned off the mental you tube affirmation videos of positive natural birth. I turned off my dream of a quiet birthing room where I scooped you up on the second push, onto my chest. I turned off all of that. So another whirlwind, that took almost an entire hour, and my spinal kicked it. Bless the Lord for spinals. Labor is still going, but I no longer feel the agony. I remembered this part from last time, so I intentionally soaked in the couple of minutes I had to remember the smells, remember the faces, remember the feelings...because I knew it went quick after this. Well, it took quite a while to get you out. They made a bigger incision than normal, and (I was told) two doctors got on the table and pushed on my sides to pop you out like a pimple after you decided you didn't want to come out easily. And they say cesarean is low-risk, pssshhh. You showed your strength, but finally they got you. And just like that my love, you were here. I still remember them taking you to the scale and everyone in the room waited forever to see the number that would come up. Finally there it was...11.13. I remember asking a couple of times, "Is that correct? Are you sure?" It was correct. And then, the most important moment of the whole day...your dad said to the nurse--knowing how difficult a time I had in bonding with your brother--can he stay with her while they finish? The nurse had a look of, Hmmm, no one has ever asked that before...and said, "Okay, if so and so is okay to stay here." So and so nurse agreed to stay in the operation room, and there you were my love. Your wrinkly furry skin. Your smushed face. Your pointy ear, just like mine. You just laid there on my chest, as if you knew. You knew it sweetheart that this was mama. You didn't really even cry. They let you stay with me for a long time, and I'm so grateful they did. Right when I got in the room, you nursed like you'd done it a million times before, and I spent the rest of the days in the hospital totally attached to you--physically and emotionally. You let us know when you were cold--loudly. You slept longer than the hospital pediatrician felt was good without eating (but I knew better). You had to redo your hearing test several times. And I made several nurses uncomfortable when I slept the whole night with you on me in bed. You are perfect my son, and I cherish the time we had in the beginning. I think our bond is strong now because of those few things that went so very well on the day you were born.

We came home and what a sweet boy you were. All 12 pounds of you. I can still smell your newborn hair on my chest. I can see your chubby face smashed as you sleep. I can hear your sweet coos as you breathe. Emerson Xavier, I could not be more proud to be your mother.

Over the past 12 months, you have amazed me with your spunk, wowed me with your strength. You have sucked down more milk I think than the average kid, and demanded to have your voice be heard. I hear you my child. You are loved, you are valued, you are cherished, you are adored. I have seen you love your brother with a glimmer in your eye--almost as though you recognize him from even before birth. He loved you even then, sweet child. I have seen you get excited when you reach a milestone and realize it--the joy you have in accomplishing something. I know full well that you have in mind the exact way you plan to do something, and you make it known when someone does not fulfill that plan. You have a confidence about you, in your step, in your thinking, in your development. I think you're exactly "on target" as far as development goes, and I see the trend is you accomplish the next milestone boldly and with poise. 4 years ago, I would've thought a person crazy for saying all of that could be identified in a child so young, but I see it in you bubbies. You're middle name, Xavier means "new house." You are our anchor to this place where God has called us into this specific community. You bring a sense of peace to this new house, my love. Not in the way of sleeping at night ::sigh:: but in feeling that God is good.

It's remarkable to see you individually for your characteristics, your personality, and your uniqueness. You look more and more like your brother each day, but you could not be any more uniquely you. The Lord has designed you and created you for purpose. He loves you, and your are perfect in His eyes...and mine, let's be honest.

So tomorrow marks 365 days of you living on this earth. I pray that your life be full, that you have much influence for good, that your strength be courageous and steadfast, and that you bring hope and a fresh start to many in the name of Jesus. You were preciously made in my womb, and I am honored to be your mom. I love you with my whole being, baby. May you always know how much you are loved. Happy birthday, Emerson Xavier.

My Sweet Emerson

Dear Emerson,

I've been so reflective the past few weeks or so as your first birthday draws closer and closer. I can hardly believe we made it through a year. I remember the day you were born like it was just last week, and how you've grown in such a short (or long??) amount of time! What continues to amaze me is how different you are from your brother. I mean, duh. You're your own person. But you have to understand, I've only ever known Denzel as my child. So to have you develop into your own individual and be uniquely you is such a treat to see.

 One of my favorite things about you is your passion. When you are happy, you are obviously happy. You laugh, and it instantly makes my day better, your smile is precious, and those eyes--they are captivating in a personal way. On the other hand, when you're upset, you are obviously upset. You scream like a banchie, kid. I mean, how on earth did you learn to do that? Is that a second-child-I-need-a-voice-too kind of thing? Do you notice that when you're upset I say, "I hear you baby"? I want you to know that you aren't just an accessory, or a baby human that I'm required by law to supervise at all times. You do have a voice, and I recognize that you have needs, wants, desires. I wouldn't be opposed to keeping the banchie scream at home though. I mean, the other Target guests would probably agree with me on that one. :)

My son, you are one of the strongest children I know. I know you're a little big for your age, but the way you manipulate your muscles is well beyond your age and even your size. You are confident physically, and you are sure of your steps. I admire that about you, and pray that you use that boldness to empower those with less strength than yourself. Use your power and strength for good, sweetheart.

The way you love is the most precious thing ever. I'm absolutely giddy over the way you wrap your arms around my neck and give loves. And those eyebrows...everyone comments on how cute they are, but I'm so about your old man eyebrows. I love your chubby feet that don't fit in any shoes, and your baby body that is quickly transforming to look like a little boy's. I love the way you look up to your brother and want to do everything just like him. He's a good kid, I'm glad you look up to him and love him. But I also want you to be you. God has designed you for a specific purpose, and baby you are going to be a world-changer. Your dad and I don't expect you be a CEO or doctor. I could care less what your title is. But I do care that you love people and love God. I already see that in you, my love. When those you care about are down or are crying, your face falls and your empathy is visible. And when someone you love walks in the room, you get so excited then hurry to greet them. You are a joy to know, sweet Emerson.

I've had a few moments of mommy guilt, as they call it, and it's usually remorse that I can't give you exactly what Denzel had as a baby. I can't give you undivided attention, because my arms hold two children now. I can't spend hours reading you books or teaching you new things, because I have work, and another child to balance as well. The guilt is really silly, and is especially silly for you, because I see that the only thing you need is my best. You are thriving right now on the best that I can do. Part of me loves that, and part of me is saddened at the idea that you don't need me quite as much anymore. I mean, the goal is for you to be a fully functioning,  well-adjusted, independent and critically-thinking man. But my soul cries out to hold you one more time as the fresh newborn who hasn't yet opened his eyes. You came from me, and there will always be that bond between you and I, my love. I knew you before you took your first breath. Not as intimately as the Lord, but in the beginning it was me and you kid. And I will be here until the end too. There is nothing you can do that will make me not love you. Nothing. Jesus loves you even more than that, sweetheart. Give him your heart, love him with your whole being, and seek the Lord before anything else.

So as we come up to this milestone of one year of your life outside the womb, my womb, understand that I may be a little emotional. I maybe have to pause and soak in the moment. Because you my boy, are my joy, my delight, and my sweet baby. Remember that when you're 16 years old and 6' 5".

I love you, Emerson.

~Mom

 
  

   

 
 

 
 
 
 

Growth

Personal growth is a pretty incredible thing. It is. Sometimes it pushes you to be a more true version of who you were designed to be. Sometimes I think growth refines a certain part of us. But I don't think personal growth is ever only easy. There might be easy parts, but growth sometimes creates stretch marks. Just ask my torso after carrying a nearly 12 pound baby past 40 weeks. My body has seen growth physically, spiritually, emotionally and mentally in the past handful of years. So let me catch you up to speed.

This journey of pursuing the work I was designed for (aka social work) has been a beautiful and difficult process. I've written in previous posts about how my transition from music to social work was difficult for me, but now looking back I can see the journey was predestined. I worked in foster care and adoptions until I had E, and because we were/are fairly certain he is our last, I knew I couldn't miss out on this time with him. I was able to spend 8 months with Denzel when he was first born, and I wanted more than anything to give "the same" to E. I'm sure all you second borns can understand. Lest you think I was given 8 months of leave by my employer, let me clear up something for you. I was finishing up my master's program and (glory of glories), I had Denzel the week of finals. No really, it was actually a great thing because I had all written finals and presentations (professors let me be the first to present in case he came early) complete prior to that last week. So when he came late, I only missed 1 or 2 classes. Of course I was excused ;) So I graduated, had my new baby and waited to really find a great job. During that time, Patrick and I had a great opportunity with his work to move to California. We had always planned to "end up" here, we just didn't know the timing. So we sort of made the quick decision and knew it was right. We lived with Patrick's parents for 9 months while we carefully decided where to plant roots. For some reason, it's different with kids. As a couple, we moved several times. But once we had Denzel, we knew community and a place to call home were at the top of the priority list. Long story short, I found a great job in Orange County when D was 8 months old. Fast forward to a year ago. I had been looking and looking for a job that provided flexibility, but helped me stay at least somewhat career focused. I enjoy being with my kids, but I never saw myself as a stay-at-home mom long term. God bless those that do!!! So, I proposed a few ideas to the company I was working for and got one door shut after another. I was even offered a supervisor position while I was on leave! I accepted, but guys, it wasn't right. In all of my reviews at work one of my personal goals was to be a leader in a supervisory position. Here it was, and no. It just wasn't the right time, but I literally had no other choice for work and we needed the paycheck. Two weeks before my leave was up, I had a supervisor call me from a different agency about my resume and application. She explained the job to me and asked me if that was truly what I was looking for. I, of course, said yes, we scheduled an interview 2 days later, and she basically offered me the job on the spot. Miraculous my friends. I called my supervisor and told her about my new position. It was something I asked to do at the old company but was told I could not. After hearing I was hired somewhere else, she looked into keeping me on in a similar role to the other agency...and badda bing badda boom...I now contract with TWO agencies! So let me tell you what I do. I write family assessments for prospective foster and adoptive parents. Basically, I come in someone's home, ask them a bunch of super personal questions and say, "You're ready" or "Let's look at this again." I analyze people, work my own schedule, am around a bunch with both my kids, it's incredible. The pay is not so incredible, but this is temporary. And you know what? Sacrifice for these two precious little guys is so worth it.

More than just career-wise, I've sort of taken up a new...hobby. Yeah, I'll call it a hobby. Nutritious eating and healthy living has really become a passion of mine. It began with a realization of a serious addiction I have to sugar. I'm dead serious. Not caffeine, not drugs or alcohol, sugar. Most people eat more sugar than they're aware of, but after some real observations of myself I realized I rely on sugar for my mental health. Basically, when I'm stressed, happy, depressed, any overwhelming feeling, I eat sugar. Cookies, candy, and many other things I forgot I even ate. It became routine to put sugar in my mouth. It has been quite a process to cut out sugar, which by the way is not food but a chemical, but I continue to fight the good fight. My kids are my inspiration in that. I stick something in front of them, and they eat it. Even Denzel knows the role sugar plays in our house. One of his favorite statements is, "Sugar is not good for our bodies, it just tastes good." Parenting win folks. Parenting win. I'm not a perfect, sugar-free mom, but I try my best. And when I fall, I eventually pick back up and try again. So, this new way of eating has spurred my interest in natural living, which means different things to different people. For me it means no chemicals, toxins and going back to the old way of living. You know, like growing your own food, being active, prioritizing sleep...those sorts of things. It's been probably 9 months or so since I've been serious about the food we put in our mouth, and I've seen some pretty incredible changes. After month 3 of this, we all got sick with Jonesmagedden. 3 months we were sick with *different* ailments. Colds, fevers, no fevers, flu, runny nose, stuffy nose, throw up, diarrhea, rashes, croup, respiratory, ear infections, pink eye. It was UNENDING. 2 or more family members were sick at all times during this 3 months. It's only a theory, but I think because we had changed our diet so much, and Denzel was exposed to so many new germs from his new preschool, and the new baby, and the no sleep...I think that was to blame for Jonesmagedden. But you know what? We've been sick since, and whoever is sick is only down for 24 hours or less, and it's been pretty minor. Even when others around us are dropping like flies, we are okay. So I'm hooked. I can't undo the knowledge I have now, and I can't unremember the feeling I have when I eat well versus eating crap. There's no going back, but that's okay because it's been fun to learn new things about healthy living and nutritious eating. This way of eating has also expanded my ability to cook and bake good things. It feels good to feed my family well, and truthfully, to see my own body transform as a result. I know I'm still breastfeeding, and that is a large part of my weight loss, but I haven't weighed this little since before we got married. I'm hoping this is where I'll stay, and the muscles continue to develop. (Emerson really messed up my muscles. In some respect I feel like I'm starting over at square one with my strength.) So there's health.

Mentally I think I've struggled a little more. I had postpartum for a good long time after Emerson. And I sort of knew it, but literally could do nothing about it. And my poor family felt the effects. I remember struggling so much with Denzel those first three months, being just a generally angry person, and struggling to find joy in anything. It wore on my marriage, my relationship with my kids, and just my outlook on life. There was a point when I remember very clearly thinking, "I don't want this life." I don't want a relationship, don't want kids, diapers, nothing. I don't want any of it. I want to run away. A few times I planned where I would escape to. One time I remember thinking (you're going to laugh), "Maybe I'll just go to a hotel for a few nights...but then I'll have to pump and I don't want Emerson to have formula." Just nonsense. But it's real dude. I thought about escaping to many places. I thought about how long I would be gone. Nothing made sense in my mind, and thank goodness because I never acted on it. I broke down one night at the kitchen sink. I told Patrick I don't want this any more. He came up behind me and just held me. I didn't appreciate it fully at the time. But now I see what a gem of a partner I have. Soooo....I'm fine now :) I went to my therapist, have extended myself and my family grace, and have really just set priority in choosing what I do with my time intentionally. Again, a process, but things are starting to settle in place. Patrick and I are going on dates again, Emerson isn't nursing as much, Denzel is balanced again, and we're functioning as a cohesive family. Things are good. But it doesn't come naturally--you have to choose this and find some way to make it happen. Can I just make a plug here? If you have some sort of stigma against therapy, can I just challenge you? I have heard many, many positive things come from work in therapy. I have experienced positive things from therapy myself. Don't knock it and think you can do life on your own all the time. We were designed to be communal beings. You don't live on an island by yourself. If not therapy, find a quality friend. Ok. The end.

So there's been a lot going on, below the surface and above. All positive things, and I can say that now that I'm on this side of the tough stuff. Personal growth has been a process, but it feels good to look at this life I've been given and feel good about the direction ahead. Grow. Stretch. Challenge yourself. I don't think you'll be disappointed.

Music, Beauty, and Wholeness

My soul is full tonight folks. It is alive, well, and complete. Patrick and I haven't been on a date in a while and tonight we went to a choral concert at CSULB. The reason we went was really because our alma mater (Northern Arizona University) was singing with Long Beach State, and what a perfect opportunity to experience...forgive the cheesiness...sort of the metaphorical journey of our lives. We lived in AZ first, went to school there, met in Flagstaff at school, and now our current journey takes place in Long Beach. To make things more "small worldish," my very dear friend, and mentor was engaged to one of the directors at Long Beach State, and also went to NAU. Crazy. Small. World.

Tonight's concert was a remarkable event for me. Bare with me as I reveal some of my innermost feelings to you. I've been accused of many things, but being short and sweet--no, definitely not that. So, go on if you so choose. You have been warned :)

There was something so incredible about the music I heard tonight. Something about seeing my previous choral director, seeing her beautiful gesture ::those hands and arms are art themselves!!:: hearing what can only be described as juicy fruit, and nutritious meat that entered my ears, processed happy juice in my brain, and penetrated my soul. What is it about music that speaks to the inner most parts of you? It definitely does me. But the crazy thing is, it's taken me 30 years to see the beauty of the art, the beauty of humanity, and joy that results in experiencing the art form you understand so well, and yet are surprised by, moved by, and brought to tears by again and again. When I was listening in the audience I experienced so many emotions I could not begin to process them all. I was taken back to my undergrad experience, the memories I made as a wee babe, a cute little kid that thought she knew everything. Nay nay, Andrea. If I could go back and talk to 22 year old me, wow, I would have so much to say.

I think I would start with this...this is your journey, and soak it up. What I never imagined back then was that my career would change. I never imagined that there was life outside of music. Because in undergrad, I ate, slept and breathed choral music. I sang in multiple choirs and groups, I taught voice lessons, I took voice lessons, I listened to music for enjoyment and for every single one of my classes. I analyzed the black dots to death. I practiced piano for HOURS a day. Per day, every day. I wore that choir dress like 75% of the school year. My life revolved around choir tour, conferences and networking with other choral directors. So if you told me back then that I might not be a choir teacher for life I would have laughed in your face. I gave my life to music for years.

Let's fast forward a teeny bit to after graduation. I student taught with my mentor teacher that was my student teacher when I was in high school--Germán. That's when the shaping of my adult self really started to begin. I became a choir teacher because teaching was my calling and music was my medium. I was never a musician first, always a teacher first. I was a good musician, but my priority was the children in front of me. Each individual. Each life. My first year of teaching was really really hard. Not because of the music. Shooot, that was the easy part. It was because I took over Germán's program and I was a wee babe. I don't think I made poor decisions or anything, I think the stress of the work and the expectation that I put on myself (and the community put on me as well) sunk in fast. I was big time depressed and anxious. I remember a handful of times when I could not physically get out of bed because I was so anxious about the day and going to work. Stress was seeping in my pores. I was an angry person too. I remember Patrick would always hear about my day at work and say, "Is that how you taught today or are you just venting?" I was always baffled that he would ask! I would never talk like that in class, I just needed to vent...but the venting was constant. It was too much. But the expectation was still there, and my life was music. How could I make a life in something...anything else? I knew nothing else. I only knew music.

Well, after two years of teaching in a public school, my journey led me to social work. I struggled with facing the music community because I felt like they wouldn't understand. Quite honestly, many of the people I knew didn't get it. I don't know that I got it totally. But God was calling me to move down the road, to transition to the place that he would begin to refine me in the fire, and fire is...well...hot. You know what though? Germán got it. He was all music too, like I was, but our friendship didn't change just because my life led me to another career. The things he taught me were universal lessons that any person in life could benefit from. And tonight. Tonight I realized that that is what music did for me. I no longer view my music life as my "previous career" and me cutting ties and doing something else. It's no longer "life A" and "life B." I had an epiphany tonight, and realized that music made me who I am. So these are the things I learned about life from music:

1. Community is most important. Community is so fundamental to an individual's well-being, and finding people that are like-minded, people who support you, compliment you, care for you...all these things are necessary in the human race. We do not exist in a vacuum. We were designed for community. Choral music is very much that: community. If you've been in music for any length of time, I'm willing to bet you have fond memories of the people that you stood next to, or those you spent hours with. Music has the potential to build incredible, positive, community. I think the Bob Cole Conservatory Chamber Choir exuded this in many ways tonight. It was evident that they were a family.

2. Individuality is also important. No one does things exactly the same as the next guy or gal. That is the beauty of the human race. Well, in music being unified has a time and place just like individuality has it's place. The unique characteristics that we bring to the table make the buffet all the more sweet. Be you. That is the best person to be.

3. Experiencing the moment is so precious and should be practiced more. Do you ever have a truly moving moment? I've had many that are a result from music, but I think this applies to life also. Being present in relationships is so important--with your kids, your spouse, your grieving friend. Even taking a moment to yourself and soaking in peace is a good discipline to practice. I experienced this on many levels tonight. Patrick and I had a wonderful night together, and we shared conversation and experiences in ways we had not in a long time. It felt intimate--from the concert experience alone. I experienced many nostalgic moments too, as I heard my alma mater sing. Truly, a flood of memories bombarded my brain. But maybe the moment that I will always remember from tonight was "And So I Go On." This song was commissioned in honor of Germán, and tonight NAU and CSULB sang it together. The two worlds joined as one, and in a weird sense I felt that that happened for me a little too tonight. You see, we shared many of the same decisions or paths--districts we taught in, student teaching experience, NAU for undergrad, appreciation of jazz, teaching philosophy, coffee!, and our friendship bloomed from those shared experiences. And this lesson is important because...

4. You must experience the beauty around you since you aren't guaranteed it will be there again. Germán was a remarkable person, and I miss him so deeply my body hurts sometimes at the thought that I will never see my precious friend on this earth again. It's hard for me to even reread that sentence as I write it. But I experienced beauty tonight in a crazy way. There was a part of the song that NAU and CSULB sang together--the Germán commissioned work--where I swear to you, Germán was singing. The tenor part sounded exactly like his voice. I'm not making this up. I said nothing about it, and when we left the concert hall Patrick said, "The tenor part in that song sounded like Germán was singing it--like he was in the choir!" That is the beauty I needed tonight. The sweet voice of my beautiful friend, in my current place in life, with my past and my present looking to me to continue to forge the road ahead. Guys, this life, this right here and now, is your chance. This is your chance to experience, to soak in, to do, to be, to dream. This is the time. Don't let it fly by you. There is beauty for everyone to enjoy, to experience. It may not be music for you, but find the beauty you need to experience or make or participate in. Go now and experience beauty.

I'll remember this night for a long time. And I'm happy to say that my memories of tonight will be that I realized my journey was uniquely designed for me. My musical experience was the building blocks that began to shape the person that I am today. And I'm happy to say that withouy guilt or shame, no feelings of failure or regret. I am whole, I am unique and I was made a better person because of the life lessons I learned in music.
----

Love you, G. Thanks for the treat tonight. 

Creeeeeepers

Today was all-the-creepy-old-men-talk-about-your-baby-day at Sprouts apparently. Or perhaps Emerson was looking particularly handsome in his green plaid button up shirt. Either way, there were many that noticed him.

I was carrying him in the Ergo while I went to get a few things--hoping that he would take a nap. I went through the grocery store minding my own business when a man, probably about 55 said, "Wow, that is a beautiful child. Wow." "Thanks," I said. "He is beautiful." This dude was in awe. Super nice with a tinge of creeper, but still fine. A very appropriate thing to say about someone's child that you DON'T KNOW. Thank you sir for indicating that my son is beautiful. I appreciate that.

But the second guy, not so appropriate. I was getting my last two items from the bulk section, and another guy, maybe early 50s was on the other side of the isle when he said,

"What a great-looking little man. How old is he? A year?"
"Almost 9 months."
"Wow! He's big isn't he? How much did he weigh? 9 pounds?"
Wow, do you need my approval to say something socially inappropriate like that? What do you want me to say dummy?
"When he was born? No."
"How much did he weigh?"
Hey creeper, go away, isn't it obvious I don't want to talk to you?!
"11 pounds" I know he was more, but there's no need to cause a scene.
"11 POUNDS?! WOW. Did you have him natural?"
WTF man! The only thing natural will be my fist in your face. Quit inquiring about how this child exited my body!
"No"
"So you had him c-section? Yeah, I would imagine that would be a lot! I mean, that must have been a lot of work for you, right?"
"Yup"
Ok seriously. Go away. And mind your own business. You aren't even a mom trying to share her birth story or something weird like that, so you have no excuse...

Or so I thought...

He goes to the next isle in the bulk section and I keep getting my things. Then I look up and there he is trying to make conversation again.

"Is he your first?"
(I ignored him because I wanted to get out of there, but he persisted...)
"Is he your first?"
"No, my second"
"How big was your first?"
"9 pounds"
"Oh so it's definitely genetics"
Excuse me. Ex-cuse ME. I'm 5'4" and weight 127 pounds. I'm not a large person. And how DARE you make excuses that have to do with a family that YOU DON'T KNOW!! YOU DON'T KNOW ME! You don't my child, and you don't know my hoo ha, so this conversation needs to be over.

I frowned at him when he said that thing about genetics. I'm kind of used to people commenting about Emerson's size, and I'll be the first to say I need to stop saying anything about it myself. I don't want him to feel ashamed about his body in any way, and he already comprehends a lot. But strangers?! That's just incredibly rude. So not only did he gawk at my kid, he insulted my genes...and me! This guy went on and on about how he has 7 children ::shaking my head:: and he cut every one of the umbilical cords, and all were born at home with a midwife. Then he said, "Pretty cool huh?"

I started feeling my emotions well up inside me. This guy triggered too much for me. Stuff I didn't know was still an issue. First I was angry that he said my son was anything less than perfect, but then when he told me about his "perfect birth children" I felt like the grief and loss of my own dream to have that "perfect birth" came back. All I ever wanted was healthy children, and a beautiful, natural birth. I went to Bradley classes twice--that's 24 weeks of preparing for natural birth. I wanted a water birth, I didn't want any meds, and certainly no epidural, God forbid a c-section! I wanted to have an intense (I'm a realist) but empowering birth experience. I wanted to show the doctor and nurses that I was strong, and they were wrong about my body--I knew my body better than they did. I wanted to reach down and pull up my baby, and put him on my chest. I wanted to leave the cord until it stopped pulsing to get all of that good cord blood into his body, not be clamped and spilled out on the floor. I wanted a midwife, and a birthing center. But that wasn't my reality. This guy couldn't have known that his pride in how his family was born, and the role that he played in it would have stirred up all this in me. But it did.

I came home feeling defeated again, a lot like I felt after Denzel's birth. Like I had failed. I pulled into the driveway and walked around to the backseat to get Emerson out. And there slept my beautiful child. His long eye lashes, tiny scabs from the scratches he gave himself, a little leftover carrot on his shirt, and his peaceful body breathing in and out. I didn't fail. As if I were completely in control to begin with. I've been blessed with two incredible children. Already I've seen them grow up to have morals, empathy and compassion. They aren't perfect of course, no human being is, but they are the perfect blessing I've always prayed for. And no stupid birth story changes that. And certainly no large baby in perfect health is cause to feel like a failure. I think what I often forget is that there was a risk of maternal or fetal death had I attempted a VBAC. Nothing is for sure, but what if that had happened? What if my "dream birth" has resulted in Emerson's death? Or mine? And let's be honest, there's no dream birth when the child you're pushing out is nearly 12 pounds. But I'm definitely living the dream with these two boys now.

So thanks creeper for stirring all that up in me. I needed a reminder of the riches I've been blessed with.