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.

Honesty in a Very Raw Form

Motherhood is possibly the most difficult role I've been tasked with...in my life.

I'm finding out that adding a second child to the mix has really brought out all the stress to our entire family. I certainly do not blame my son. I mean, it's not like he asked to be born. It is not his fault in any way really. I mean, to be perfectly honest, he's a much easier child than Including baby.my first. Sorry Denzel, but it's true :) But what our family has been going through lately has been really difficult for me, maybe because I'm emotional. Although I have no doubt that each of the other three in their own way have struggled with this new adjustment over the past year.

I went to therapy today for the first time in two years. First, some context. I'm a social worker. I'm a strong proponent of mental health. And part of me believes that because I know and have all these skills, I should be able to work things out on my own. Number one, that statement could not be further from the truth. God has designed us for relationship and community. You were not designed to walk through life alone. But all that to say, if I'm going to therapy, as much as I believe in it, you know it's because I'm at my end. And I was. No more rope left, no more wick...what's that saying? Who cares, I was spent. So I went and saw her.

The drive to my therapist's office was ridden with shame, with guilt. Why am I going? Of course I'm stressed, we've been sick for months, I'm exhausted, these are all normal things. Dumb. What is she going to think? How can I help this girl with NORMAL problems? But then I walked in and was greeted with the upfront, bold therapist I instantly loved from years ago. P.S. My therapist is not a soft spoken, tell me how you're feeling, type. She is gentle when I cry, bold when I'm angry, listens all the time, but has NO problem adding her two sense, or humor. I appreciate a strong personality. That's why I came back. I caught her up to speed with new life changes, we talked about new baby, new house, new job, new challenges in my marriage, and my overall feeling of anxiety from being overwhelmed. I said through tears, "I do so fucking much, I don't even know where to start." And cue floodgates. I try not to curse often. I think it's dumb, but lately the f word is the only constant word going on in my head. It's the stress. She didn't judge me though. She sympathized, she empathized, she validated that this stage of life is extremely stressful and that I'm not the only one who has ever or is even currently going through this. So it was one session, and I walked away with some homework.

If there's anything I enjoy, it's being reflective and learning more about thought process. I always want to better myself--I just don't always say it in those words. So I drove back feeling instant relief. Not 100%, but definitely like 50-60% of my sanity had returned. One of the things we talked about was having this need to do it all myself. Have you felt that? I mean, WHAT IS THAT?! Why on earth do we (moms or dads or just people in general) have this feeling like we have to get the list done each and every day? I didn't realize what a problem it was for me until today when I caught myself every. single. time. I didn't want to let go of control several minutes of every hour. And what compounds the issue is, if it doesn't get done the way I want, or sometimes even if it's done the way I want but not by me, I have intense guilt about it. Tell me I'm not the only one. I realize it's ridiculous, but I'm being honest. I'm a mom that wants, in a perfect world, my children to eat only healthy things, have beautifully prepared meals each day, baby to drink only the very best breast milk packed with nutrients for his growing body, a nap and sleep schedule to be followed perfectly to the t, no one to get sick, a thriving marriage, a healthy spiritual life, friends all over the place, time to invest in every friendship, clothes that fit, a tummy that doesn't look like I just birthed the largest bowling ball known to mankind, hair that cooperates, work that is done faster than I expected, more money that I was expecting...I mean, the list goes on! And no one can live up to those standards. Notice I didn't say anything about a clean house. I have all but given up on my house. But really, why the guilt? Truth is, I don't know. I don't know why I can't rely easily on others for help, even though I'm better than I used to be. I don't know why it's so difficult for me to feel like I have to be the best at everything, do all things with a sweet demeanor, and have time for eyeliner. Why?

My therapist also said something pretty remarkable. She encouraged me to multitask in a different way. Instead of cleaning the house and making dinner, maybe I should nurse baby and cuddle D at the same time. She said your kids need your physical love at this age. Duh. Why didn't I think of that. I've been working on that more recently because Patrick told me the same thing, so I've really been trying to be cuddly with my 3 year old. And it's hard when you can't use the sink because there are so many dishes, or have no clean clothes as the laundry sits in a jabadahut pile on the floor. But I'm the one who wants these memories with my family, I have to create them, I have to be in them. So that's my goal: letting go of control long enough to capture the beautiful moment for future recall. I don't want my kids to remember their mom as the clean nazi that was always doing dishes or had her back turned from them to fold the clothes. I want them to remember a mom that threw the ball and got down on the floor to play. That's the mom I am, and want to keep being.

The issue isn't solved. I still feel like I'm in a fog of sorts. I still feel waves of anxiety or feelings of being overwhelmed, but like anything you take it one moment at a time, right? That's my approach. Because I'm tired of just barely hanging on. I'm tired of...ha ha, my eyes are heavy...I'm just tired!! So, I leave you with this thought...what one thing do you need to let go? I could write a list longer than jolly old St. Nicholas has of his naughty AND nice kids. But the best place to start is with just one.

When I'm critical of criticism

I'm bombarded with criticism all over the internet right now. People are upset about Paris (and rightfully so!), but others are critical of the France flag superimposed on the FB profile pictures. I read how some are more upset about Paris than Kenya, and still more are critical about how some lives are valued more than others. Can I just suggest something?

Can we take a step back? Just stop. And breathe.

Consider this prospective: we are all one humanity. We all live here on the Earth together. And whether you like it or not, that's the reality.

But all this criticism is getting out of hand. And maybe it's really showcased right now because of all the presidential debates that are going on. She said this. He proposes this. Obama is an awful president. I mean come on. Is anyone else sick of this? No, just me? You think it's just politics, but I think this mindset has seeped into the depths of our society. And criticism is quickly becoming hate. Now people are talking about blocking refugees. Criticism...hate. Just like that. Man, that was quick.

I think it's important to think for yourself critically. I do. I also think it's very important to take a look at why you individually, act or say what you do. But at some point grace needs to enter the scene. No more opinions, let's be gracious. I mean, really. At some point we need to say, I'm going to not be an angry person. I'm not going to act out of fear (that's really what I believe this is). Instead I'm going to *do* something (emphasis on the action of this word) that will benefit another human being that I live with on this earth. Stop making it about you. Stop saying me me me. I read an article that said someone compared the Paris attacks to climate change. Why? Why are we making an event of people's lives about our soapbox? That's enough with the criticism of everything. It's one thing if you're seeking just-thinking and encouraging equality. It's completely another when you bash people to get your point across. And just stop putting a population in a box. Stop saying we have to shut down the country, build a wall, be it literal or figurative to protect ourselves from "the enemy." No wall is going to protect you. It's not. I'm sorry, but you are not safe from terrorists. Do you really think cutting off refugees is going to help? Let me ask you a serious question...what experience do you have in fleeing a life-threatening situation? None? That's what I thought. I have no personal experience, but here's something you probably didn't know about me-my extended family has fled dangerous situations to preserve their lives, and haven't always been successful. I don't really want to go into details, because I don't want a pity party. But I do want to say until you know what it's like to have your fingers cut off, literally, tortured, children held for ransom, you don't really know what these people are going through. Just imagine for a moment-your life is at stake, and the country that offers freedom and piece of mind-they just said, "Nope, not here."

This world is not getting better. I know that the media broadcasts only the negative and positive happens daily all over the place without recognition. But maybe we don't add to the already negative world? Maybe the change starts within yourself. Because this toxic way of thinking you have to be on the opposite line from your neighbor--that's how the hatred starts. So quit with the criticism, and quit acting out of fear. Leave a little space, take pause to really consider what you're doing.

I have to believe in the goodness of humankind. I have to. I guess I just yearn for the day that goodness peeks through more than the darkness. I look forward to that day indeed.

I actually don't love you.

Those were the words that came out of my 3 year olds mouth yesterday, "I actually don't love you." I know it was bound to come one day, but I wasn't really prepared for it to be so soon.

Denzel and I have not been seeing eye to eye. That's really the nice version. It feels like there's an ongoing battle in my home with him. I'm sure if I talked to or observed other homes with three year olds I wouldn't feel so bad. But because he's my first, it feels like a lot to me. A lot of whining. A lot of crying. A lot of doing exactly what I asked him not to do. A lot of pushing limits. A lot of stuff I can't handle after being on vacation and coming home to all three other family members being sick (the boys and Patrick, thankfully I'm still healthy). And if there's one thing that gets me every time, it's his high-pitched voice whining about taking the apple skin off. I paid a lot of money for that organic apple skin! Or asking why he can't touch his sick brother's face. That's how you two got sick to begin with! I can't stand the whining and crying.

So yesterday we were at it again. I say we because I understand I have a part in this too. I know I could try to be more patient. In the moment, that is not how I feel though. So we fight, and quickly I change my attitude. Then it's something new. We make up. And something new again. It's constant. Last night he was in bed and I was explaining something to him and he said softly, "I don't like you." Then whispered, "I don't love you."

::Insert dagger in heart here:: I looked at him and said, "Denzel, I know you and I aren't getting along sometimes. You get frustrated because I tell you not to do something, and I get angry when you don't listen to me. But no matter how angry I get or how frustrated you get, we always love each other. Okay?" He looked at me and said, "k." I gave him a big hug and said goodnight, and that I loved him. Then I walked out.

I all but bawled when I walked out of his room. I didn't let him see how hurt I was, but that is maybe the deepest wound a person has ever inflicted on me. I think I could have let it bounce off easier if he said it in anger. If he had yelled that he hated me, somehow that would be more typical? But it wasn't that. He spoke his mind, and it was very matter of fact. He even whispered it. I came out and told Patrick what had happened, and how hurt I was. He went in there and talked to Denzel for a while. Then D came and said, "Mommy, I actually love you." I had to laugh because he says "actually" in every sentence these days, and this time it sounded particularly funny. We made up and were good for the night. And I still love my boy.

There's something incredible about the love between a mom and her child. And I feel like I got a glimpse, albeit very small glimpse, of how God feels when I don't love him. I kept thinking, "I do so much for him. I'd give my own life for that child. He has no idea how much he's hurting me right now." Of course the Lord knows what I'm feeling. Jesus already gave his life for me. And I still do my own thing. I still choose with my actions to say I actually don't love you.

Parenting is hard. And I wonder if God allows us to be parents to more fully understand the relationship He has with us. So I'll try to remember that the next time he kicks the soccer ball in the house and hits his brother--that if I could extend mercy to my son, as it's been done for me, we'd all be better off.

Faithful

I'm not sure why I've be blessed with remarkable people as friends. I really don't. I don't feel deserving of their friendship, because so much of the time I feel like I take and have basically nothing to give, nothing to even offer. My friend Gina is one of those remarkable people. This woman and her whole family reached out to us when we first moved to Lakewood. They brought us dinner, and our house was full of boxes. Her youngest and my oldest were in the same kids class at church, and I was immediately drawn to her beautiful spirit. So gentle, so authentic, so joyful. I really think that God's beauty has so consumed her life that she was actually more beautiful on the outside too. We got to know each other more and more, and I was so inspired by her steadfastness. We connected on other things too, like eating well, being well, essential oils, clothes, tacos :) Gina and her husband adopted all three of their girls, so of course we connected in that way since I worked in adoptions. Their stories were all so incredible--stories of faith, stories of God's provision poured out for the two of them. Well, Gina's story of God's provision isn't over.

A few months ago, Gina was diagnosed with breast cancer. When she told me, I was in shock. One of the healthiest people I know--she ran marathons, was fit, into the natural stuff--she had breast cancer. It didn't make any sense to me. I think my mind couldn't make sense of it, and only considered the "health" aspect because recently I've been so consumed with eating healthy, getting toxins out of our house, etc. But my assumptions, which were clearly wrong and ignorant, turned into deep sadness. Why cancer, Lord? Why Gina?

We had an incredible conversation before she went for her first week of treatment. After much research, prayer and seeking God's wisdom, Gina found a different path to pursue treatment of this cancer. Of course it isn't covered by insurance, but they were still going to do it--somehow, God would provide.

Gina travels every week to Arizona for her treatment. After a handful of days she travels back to be at home with her beautiful family. The weight of the travel each week, of feeling tired and fatigued, hair loss, etc. would be too much for anyone. Here's the remarkable part--in every struggle I have witnessed remarkable faith. In her small little body, the faith that moves mountains and heals, the faith that leads others back to God--that faith, oozes out of her. When I look at Gina, I see incredible endurance, strength and a steadfast spirit that praises the Lord, no matter the circumstance. That to me is utterly remarkable. And it's not that she hasn't cried, that she hasn't felt defeat, or like her body can't keep up 100% of the time. She's human. But hear me, her faith is awesome. 

I don't naturally have faith like that. I don't. When a crappy situation comes, my initial reaction is to be angry at God. To question His will, His intentions. But I am a learner, and Gina--whether she knows it or not (she will after I post this :) has taught me that God is good amidst the storm. I have grown a lot in the past couple of years, and my realization of that is tangible because I'm staring at that phrase "God is good" and I feel it in my body. God is good, period. I don't have answers for the struggles we face in this world. But dear Jesus, you. are. good. 

People have really come around the Reeves family to support them, but the thing they're needing right now is financial support. Check out her story here. God is good, and he will supply my beautiful friend and her family with all that they need. I believe that 100%. 

This song just came on my Pandora station, and wow, I think it so appropriate.

You are faithful, God you are faithful.

Thank you Lord, for this incredible person you've put in my life. And I thank you even more that her faith is so powerful, it has taught me and sparked the desire in me to be closer to You, Jesus. Heal your daughter, Gina. Refresh her spirit, bring sustaining energy and rest to her family. Love her precious little girls as they process this and walk through their own struggles in seeing their mommy fight for healing. Give Paul endurance, strength, wisdom, and love as he faithfully supports his wife. And Lord, may you continue to be praised. You are faithful. You are good. In Jesus name, Amen.

Remarkable

I've been in a really neat place recently. Not like Hawaii or anything. I mean, psychologically I've been in a very positive place. I've been incredibly grateful for most everything in my life recently. Almost like my eyes have been opened to how blessed I really am. And I hate the word blessed because it's so overused, but let's be honest, the word is absolutely appropriate when I talk about my husband.

I actually just googled blessed and the definition states "made holy." So appropriate to describe Patrick right now, made holy. There's something you should know about my husband--he is one of the most remarkable human beings I've had the honor of knowing. Seriously. He innately desires to grow as a person and in his own character...so he does. He pursues personal growth because he wants to. He enjoys keeping up with current events, and comes alive with making injustice right in the world. He loves our boys unlike any dad I've ever seen. I mean, he doesn't just parent how he was parented. That's what everyone does. Not him. Patrick does intense research on the best possible approach, and incorporates it almost daily. He has more patience that ANY single person I've ever known, hands down. Seriously, when I just can't be patient with kids anymore, he steps in, and it's like they get a clean slate and fresh perspective after mom is burned out. Recently, he's had a good amount of stress at work, and started bringing it home with him. We talked about it...okay...I told him about it...and rather than becoming defensive or resent me, he made a huge effort to change...immediately. This is no joke. Do you know how hard it is to just change? Boom. Just like that. We've been barely keeping our relationship afloat in these past...6 months, just with all the stress of work, having a new baby, managing two kids (which I swear, I could write a book about now!)--it's really been a lot for us both. And of course we spend very little time together, alone, without children. But we talked about how much we desire for that to change. And you know what? He's really the one that has changed, not me. He cares that much. For me, for our relationship, to change immediately. The last thing I'm thinking about is a little silly, but let's be honest, attractiveness is important. Patrick has been wearing his glasses again recently, and I think he's sexy. I don't know if I like men in glasses, or if they just compliment his face that much, all I know is he is particularly attractive these days, and I like it. So yeah, my husband needs a shout out. Because everyone needs to be affirmed in the strengths they posses. It just happens that I married a man with mostly strengths :)

I love you, Patrick, and thank you. Thank you for being remarkable and uniquely you.

As a mom...

As a mom

I love every dirty fingernail,
deformed toenail,
and pointy ears that prove you both belong to me

As a mom

I worry about you constantly
dream about what you'll be like daily
and beg time to slow down with each birthday

As a mom
I feel guilt when you eat fast food
Smile when you ask if green beans are a treat
And can't help but laugh when you say "I'm very full, can I have a cookie?"

As a mom
I'll happily put you before me
Wish I had more alone time with Daddy
But think about you constantly when you're gone

As a mom
I spend hours upon hours of research on the best education
for you
Ensure you empathize with others
And teach you to care for anything smaller than yourself

As a mom
I want nothing more than you to know God
See you grow up to be incredible men
And get anxious about thinking someday we won't live under the same roof

As a mom
I wonder what your story will be
Ponder who you're becoming

and am so encouraged with your character already

As a mom
I desire nothing more than you looking at me as you nurse
Feel at peace when I hold you, sleeping
Wish I could put the feeling in a jar to keep for later

As a mom
I want to protect you from the world
But know that's not how it works
and let you experience life

As a mom
I let you take risks
Even when everything in me shouts, "NO!"
Because that's how you grow

As a mom
I get frustrated when you don't listen
Sometimes I want to scream, or
Wish I could cry with you

As a mom
I will always love you
No matter the circumstance
Until the day I die

You both made me a mom. It's part of my identity now, and what an incredible blessing and honor it is to be your parent. I love you with all that's in me. That is where you started out, after all :)

~Mom