Why I owe it all to my 18 year old son.....

The song “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” played at our wedding – I stood in foyer of the church and listened to the words knowing that many rough and rocky roads had led me to where I was standing.  The doors swung open and I suddenly became a bride – the crowd stood and your dad’s eyes filled with tears.  I remember looking at you both – the weight of this new adventure rested squarely on my shoulders – truthfully, I was scared to death – I had no idea how to be a wife or a mom so I did the only thing I could…..I put one foot in front of the other and walked down the aisle…..   

Much of the last 10+ years have been like that – me scared to death – just putting one foot in front of the other.  Most days I’m convinced that I’ve made a horrible mess of it all but on days like Saturday, I see a glimmer of hope that just maybe I didn’t totally screw it all up.  I think back to days, like our wedding, where you were waiting at the end of the aisle – you had no idea how it would all work out but you loved me anyway.  There are few moments in life that leave really profound footprints on your heart but that day was one of those for me.  It wasn’t the flowers or the dress or the “wedding” – it was you and dad waiting for me at the end of that aisle.  Prepared to walk through life with me – to love me in spite of the many mistakes I was sure to make.  Completely trusting that I would figure it out, eventually.   

When a child is born there is a physical connection – an instinct that kicks in – a love that bubbles up from somewhere inside of you.  It is undeniable and unexplainable – it is terrifying and amazing all at the same time.  It is a beautiful thing – no doubt – but when God places a child in your life, when He places the hand of that child in yours, something equally amazing happens.  It is also terrifying and amazing – undeniable and unexplainable.  It is a miracle in the rarest of forms – there is suddenly a connection that is created, not by blood or DNA, but by God.  There is a love that defies all odds and knows no boundaries for it isn’t supported by anything that science can explain.   

No one could have prepared me for being your mom – no one could have explained what it means to be “picked” by someone.  You had a choice and you chose me – undeserving and flawed and imperfect (although I’m sure the chocolate chip cookies helped) – you believed in me, you loved me, you respected me, you made me your mom.  The gift that you gave me is one that most people will never understand – every parent is blessed but few are given the gift of parenthood by a child that had a choice. 

I’ve certainly failed you on more than one occasion – I’ve been impatient and short tempered – I’ve worked too much and taken a lot of moments for granted but I hope that you know how grateful I am that you chose me.  I hope you know that on the hardest of days I think back to you standing at the front of that church and I draw strength – how could I offer anything less than my best when that sweet 7 year old boy is cheering me on.  How can I doubt myself when such an amazing kid saw enough in me to believe that I would figure it all out.  You made me a mom and that is a blessing that I will never take for granted.   

I love you more than you can possibly fathom – my heart aches when I think about you not being at home but I know the man you’ve become and I know you will do amazing things.  Always remember that when things get tough, I believe in you and I choose you – EVERY SINGLE TIME.  Nothing – not time or distance or DNA can change that – I will always be a phone call away.  I’ll be on a plane, I’ll get on a boat, I’ll charter a sub, I’ll do whatever it takes to be there, if you need me.  Never doubt my love for you or the place you have in my heart – you are my hero, my firstborn, my retirement plan (just kidding about the retirement thing – well kind of).  I love you and I’m forever in your debt.

Love,

Mom

A Baby Dedication - 18 Years Later

I sat in that auditorium with 6000 other parents/family members – all cheery faced and excited to watch their teenager walk across the stage.  I wondered if I was the only one that secretly wished that my kid had failed a couple of grades.  As I sat there I replayed so many moments in my head – this was the day or reckoning – this was the day of true sacrifice. 

 

When our babies were newborn we dedicated them to God.  We stood in front of our church family, locked arm in arm with each other, faces beaming with pride and gave a vow to God to raise our children to be Godly people.  We gave them back to God – we admitted that He alone was the giver of this precious gift and that we would ultimately trust Him with this precious life.  Then we strapped our sleepy bundle of joy back in their carseat, covered them with a blanket, went home, locked the doors, tucked them in to bed and listened to the baby monitor all night long…..prepared to jump in to superhero mode if we heard so much as a whimper. 

 

As the years went by, we walked them to school – I trust you God.  We watched them as they walked down the hall to class (out of sight of course) – I trust you God.  We screened friends (and their parents), we called cell phones, we waited up, we made balanced meals, we monitored homework and internet use – I trust you God.  We lectured, we loved, we laughed, we cried – but today…….today felt different.  I couldn’t follow him down the hall.  My moments were slipping away, like sand in an hourglass.  Soon the rubber would meet the road.  Would I really trust God with my precious gift?  How could anyone love him the way that I love him – how could anyone know him like I do – how could anyone truly understand what an amazing heart my boy has??    

 

To you, he looks like a teenager.  Gangly and clumsy – growing in to a fine young man.  You may see a US Navy Sailor – the one who will defend the freedom of this great country.  You see a young boy full of hopes and dreams – full of puppy love for the high school sweetheart he will leave behind.  His future seems bright – the possibilities are endless – he is excited to start his journey.  So why do I feel like Abraham – leading Isaac up the mountain.  Why does my heart feel such pride and sorrow all at the same time??  Gladness and grief both struggling to occupy the same spot in my heart??

 

As I sit in the stands and watch my boy, now a man, make his way across the stage, I am overcome with fear.  How do I let him go – how do I know that I’ve done my part - how did the years slip by so fast, so unnoticed?  I scrutinize every word, every action, every moment and I know that now is when I must truly trust God to take care of him.  Now is the true dedication – now is when I really lay him before the throne.  Now is where I let go and letting go is hard – he is my boy, my friend, my biggest blessing and my hero – I will miss him, his laughter, his sighs when I ask him to take out the trash – even his dirty room.  And my heart aches because I know that this moment changes everything.

 

This boy that we’ve spent the last 18 years loving and protecting will get hurt, he will fall, he will fail, he will get his heart broken.  He will probably see atrocities that most of us only see on television, he will bear a weight that many of us cannot even fathom.  He will be lonely and scared – he will cry – he will miss my home cooking.  I know all of this and yet I must lay him down – I must let go.  My opportunity is gone – my role as his mother is changing with every second – now is where I realize the weight of the vow that we made all those years ago……   

Why me??

A few years ago (4 years and 15 days ago to be exact) my husband and I suffered a miscarriage.  It was a tragedy; although, by some standards it was not nearly as bad as it could have been.  But to me it was and always will be a tipping point in my life.  Up until that moment I knew life wasn’t fair and I knew that being a good person didn’t buy a free pass to the “good life”; however, I never dreamed I would ever encounter such devastation. 

To most people a miscarriage is something to move on from – it isn’t significant to even cause a blip on the radar screen of life.  In some instances it almost feels like there is a hint of shame associated with losing  a baby.  And yes, I said baby because that is what it was.

I wasn’t supposed to be able to get pregnant on my own….not to mention I was taking birth control pills.  Surely, my infertile body was not capable of getting pregnant without the aid of some kind of foreign sonogram wand exploring the inside of my body, a handful of pills or countless doctor visits.  Ha!  Imagine my surprise when I returned home from a cruise and peed on a stick.  It was a hunch – I had been tired and seasick and just felt off.  It was a long shot, a ridiculous notion that soon became a terrifying reality.  See my husband didn’t want any more children.  He was perfectly content with our 2 boys…..I was happy but my heart longed for another baby.  He hadn’t totally stonewalled me but another baby certainly wasn’t in the forefront of our mind yet here I was – hands shaking, terrified of how I would break the news.

In hindsight, I laugh at my naivety.  My husband took it all in stride and much to my surprise, he was excited.  I immediately made an appointment with an OB for the next day.  I learned that next day that I was a little over 6 weeks pregnant – I saw the flicker of a tiny heartbeat on the screen and I knew that this life was meant to be.  A week later I began spotting – I called my doctor and was told it probably wasn’t a problem but to come in.  The found a subchronic hematoma (a blood clot if you will) around the baby – my body would absorb it, take it easy, bed rest, etc. etc.  

I drove home that evening with a sinking feeling…..almost like God was preparing me.  I laid in bed all weekend and countless times I placed my hand on my stomach and prayed for the life I was carrying.  I bartered with God, begged, pleaded and cried.  As the bleeding got worse I became less and less optimistic.  By the time Monday I had rolled around I was convinced it was over. 

I made a deal with God that if this baby was meant to survive that I would see a heartbeat Monday afternoon at the doctor’s office.  I remember seeing a billboard that flashed “For I know the plans I have for you”.  For the first time in days I felt positive.  At the doctor’s office, the sonogram tech pointed out the flutter of a steady heartbeat.  I let out a sigh of relief…….almost as if I had been holding my breath for days.  I called my family and we rejoiced – now I was certain that everything was fine. 

The next day (Tuesday) I remember getting out of bed and making my way to the couch.  I watched William play in the floor and my back started to hurt.  I assumed it was a product of too much lying around.  At lunch time I got up to take a shower and realized that something was very wrong.  I will spare you the details but as my husband rushed me to the doctor’s office and the contractions rolled through my body, the tears came.  I cried for what felt like hours – I don’t remember much about that appointment other than my doctor crying with us.  A room that had at one time brought us so much hope and joy now brought us fear and doubt.   I couldn’t figure out why God would do this – what did He hope to gain out of this tragedy.  What was my suffering supposed to bring about?  Was I not thankful enough for my children, was I being punished……what did I do to deserve this? 

I’ve asked myself that question a million times.  I know that God’s timing is perfect but I would be lying if I said there aren’t times that I just want to shake my fist and say WHY??!  Infertility, miscarriage, heartache, sorrow…..what was the point of all of it?  I still don’t know, I can’t answer that question for myself or anyone else.  I remember in the days after, putting on a brave face for my friends and family.  Convincing everyone around me that I was fine all the while, letting this loss eat away at my faith.  I felt betrayed, hurt, broken.   I’ve thought back to that billboard over and over – I have to cling to the promise that He knows the plans for my life.  That He is the one who writes the story. 

I’m not exactly sure why I typed this all out – I guess it is because no one ever talks about the raw, gory details of what it is like to suffer a loss like this.  We gloss over it and put on a brave face because that is what is expected.  It is almost like a miscarriage is its own scarlet letter.  It makes me sad to think that I don’t celebrate that life the way I should because I’m afraid of the judgment of others.  I’m afraid of offending someone or drudging up past hurts if I mention the “M” word. 

There isn’t a good way to end this…..it is a complicated, messy post.  What I will tell you is that even after this tragedy - even after and during my dwindling faith - God saw fit to bless us with the cutest red headed girl in all the world.  It was a broken road to get to her and I'm not so sure that I'm at the place where I can smile at the thought of the journey we had to go on but I can say that my girl has certainly helped dry any tears I shed. 

 

 

To all my fellow parents......

Dear Parent,

I see you staring, passing judgment, calling my 3 year old a brat in your head, wondering why her parents don’t discipline her.  Rolling your eyes as she screams, the shock and horror as she tells me she hates me.  Admittedly, before facing this problem in my own home, I would have done the same thing.  I’m now ashamed of that……it makes my face burn in embarrassment.  To think I would have heaped mounds of judgment on the head of some frazzled mom who is already facing such a tear filled challenge  makes me want to hide in a corner and weep. 

 I have a new empathy for parents who go to head to head with the medical community.  Who fight and advocate for their children.  Who refuse to take a static answer because, frankly, the doctors have no idea what is wrong with their kid.  I have compassion for moms and dads who endure the scorn of family and friends who think they are over-reacting.  Those parents who sit in the waiting room at a hospital – waiting to see what answers a ridiculously expensive medical test will give them.  As they sit waiting they feel guilt for worrying about the medical bills that they know will be rolling in…..guilt for potentially financing the future of their other children to “cure” this one.  Wringing their hands in worry, tears forming in the corners of their eyes, pretending to be strong, knowing that no one understands their fear and frustration. 

I’m the mom who tiptoes around her once cheery child.  A  little girl born with red curls and dimples….ivory skin and a rosebud mouth.  The little girl who has and still does make my heart overflow with joy.  Her daddy’s princess, her Nana’s rotten, her mommy’s sweetpea……she is fierce and strong willed and stubborn but what some people don’t realize is that she is also compassionate and timid and gentle.  People don’t see those things in her as much anymore because those qualities are crowded out by fits of rage, sleepless nights and hurt filled words.  Most days I see my sweet ballerina girl….bubbly, beautiful, happy but there is always something brewing right beneath the surface.  We tiptoe around, praying that we make it through the evening and the night without a “fit”.  I watch the pain in her daddy’s eyes as she refuses to let him hold her or interact with her.  I know the pain in my own heart as I watch her stare off in to space……almost like she is absent from this beautiful life that we all share together.  Our family feels splintered…..with jagged edges threatening to slice us in two at every turn.  We spend more and more time trying to avoid a meltdown and less and less time enjoying each other.  Exhaustion has set in…..the fear of taking her too many places makes us feel like prisoners at times…..the fear that comes when we think about the rest of our lives being this way is overwhelming to say the least.

What is a “fit”, you ask.  It is an hour of screaming, irrational ranting, throwing things, hitting, hurtful words, fear in my daughter’s eyes but refusing to let me touch her or comfort her.  Last night she woke up screaming “santa”…..I didn’t get to her fast enough.  I was tired and had taken medicine for a headache…..I was too asleep to hear her first whimpers and by the time I got to her it was too late.  She was raging…..angry…..scared.   She told me she hated me over and over again……..spewing hurtful words at me like lava from an erupting volcano.  She demanded that I leave her room but as I turned to go she pleaded with me to stay.  I walked back in the room and she cowered in the corner like a scared puppy.  She barricaded us in her room……it was complete darkness……she screamed “I’m so tired” over and over again yet still would not let me touch her.  Again she screamed for the TV on and at the same time ordered me out of her room……I turned the TV on and headed for the door.  She begged me to stay and turn the TV off.  We played out this scenario over and over until I had to walk out.  I was so tired and frustrated and scared………I had the exact same emotions that my screaming daughter did.  I listened to her cries, begging me to come back, begging me to hold her, to comfort her, to chase away these proverbial demons………..I walked back in the room knowing there was nothing I could do.  She wasn’t going to let me help her……..I had to wait until the “fit” had run its course.

When she finally calmed down and I was able to lay down with her, I covered her tiny, frail body with my own.  Willing her to feel safe and loved.  She turned her face towards me, tears streaming down her cheeks and said “I’m sorry I’m so mean to you…..I don’t really hate you”.   We both laid there in the dark on her purple polka dot sheets and we cried.  I cried for my tiny ballerina dancer who for whatever reason is so tormented……I cried because I feel like I’m failing her……I cried because I know that this isn’t just her being 3…..I cried because no one understands the depth of despair that this kind of thing can push you to…..I cried because I want to rewind to December when she was okay and we weren’t searching for answers…….I cried because there doesn’t seem to be an answer and I cried because I know that so many people have labeled my sweet, beautiful, compassionate girl as a spoiled, defiant brat who just needs a good hard spanking. 

I hate the judgmental stares of other parents but more than that, I hate that I can’t fix whatever is broken in my little girl.  I hate that I’m not sure if I can survive another 6 months like this.  I hate that I’m afraid she may never be “normal” again.  So many things have changed over the last 6 weeks…..every day is a toss-up as to how it will turn out……every outing brings feelings of anxiety……every stare and well intentioned suggestion brings feelings of failure.  I know we will make it…..whatever comes…..whatever this life brings I will never quit advocating for my child.  I will never give up the fight…..I will never quit trying to hold her when cries out for me.  I pray that I always see my tiny, ballerina girl………that my heart doesn’t become hardened by the hateful words and the sleepless nights.  She needs someone to love her unconditionally…….to always see the good in her…….to remember who she really is regardless of how she is behaving. 

 I’m not writing this asking for pity or suggestions or advice.  I’m sending this out into the universe because people don’t get it – they don’t understand – they don’t want to understand what it may be like to live with a child who doesn’t fit into society’s neat little box.  Maybe the next time you offer up your opinion you should stop yourself and instead offer a hug or a shoulder to cry on.  Instead of advice……..offer a prayer…….a plea before the throne that this child comes through this challenge and that his or her parents have the strength to walk this road.   We should always remember that kids don’t come with instruction manuals……parenting is hard work and none of us know what another parent truly goes through in the middle of the night.  Your road is not mine and mine is not yours……..I need your love not your judgment……….I need your compassion not your criticism……..I need your prayers not your persecution.

Life Lessons on Losing and Love

I know that most of you may not want to read this – it isn’t about weight loss or exercise or food logs. This post is more for my own benefit – see I am at a place where I have never been. So many dreams are being fulfilled and I’m excited and terrified all at the same time. Some days I want to forget the struggle of infertility but then other days I think of how strong it has made both DH and I. This is the story of 1 day – 1 breakdown. It also happens to be the month before we found out we were pregnant……..this is the month that we decided maybe, just maybe it wasn’t going to happen for a while. In the span of one day I learned how to let go of a dream and begin the grieving process. I think I cried most of the day….no more like I screamed and wailed most of the day. I’m not an overly religious person but on that day I remember screaming in the parking lot at work – “GOD, WHY???” I told my mom that I felt cut off – like I was rattling the windows of Heaven without any answer…….I had spent months of my life begging and pleading for just one baby – just the experience of positive pregnancy test – just to see the tears in my husband’s eyes when I told him. Yet on this day (March 12th by the way) I felt like a failure – I felt broken both physically and emotionally. Let me kind of start from the beginning.

Rich and I had been trying for 20 months…..it doesn’t ever get easier and trust me, sex is no fun at that point. I was obsessed with getting pregnant. Reading every book, website, article on the topic of PCOS and infertility. I had been on so many synthetic hormones that I couldn’t even keep up – my body was tired and bloated. This day – March 12th was to tell us if the hormones worked – if all my hard work and scheduled sex and hot flashes and weight gain had been worth anything. I go in get my sonogram – they don’t see any eggs – do a blood draw and promise to call that afternoon. They did call and I think all I heard was it didn’t work. I tried to hold it together but the tears came like a flood. I ran from my office and looked for safety in the parking lot – of course my boss comes out at that moment and asks what is going on. I couldn’t share this with him – no one could understand my grief. I tried to calm myself and called the hubby. He was, of course, supportive and sympathetic but he had been struggling with the fact that what we had then was no longer enough. He took my want to have a baby as a slight to him – like he wasn’t enough. We had a huge fight that night and I remember just begging him to leave me alone in my sorrow – I called my mom and for the first time since I heard the news I found comfort. I felt guilty that my husband couldn’t comfort me but I just needed my mom. Rich came in later and we talked – I told him that I felt so alone and scared – I was confused and because I had grown up religious I felt like I was being punished. My husband is not religious so he doesn’t understand that aspect of my heart. I explained to him that I just needed someone to love me and pray for me – I didn’t fault him for not being that person but I knew that he wasn’t. It was a great conversation and a traumatic day – one that I can’t/won’t ever forget – one that makes me cry even now as I type this.

The beautiful ending to this story is that the next month we found out that we were pregnant – totally unexpected too. The night that we found out that a baby was coming, my husband looked at me and said the sweetest thing he has ever said to me. He told me that he prayed for me……..in that moment I understood what lessons I needed to learn through this experience……I realized how much stronger my marriage was and I knew that this was the man that I would spend the rest of my life with.

So all of that being said – if you got this far, I’m sorry. Again, this was more for my own benefit – I don’t want to ever forget the struggles that brought us to this place – I want to always be thankful for the hardships, lessons, love and blessings that I have been given.

Belly Pics

So after much procrastination here are some belly pics! The first 2 are at 15 weeks and the last 2 are at 11 weeks.......can you say whoa belly!!

Almost 16 weeks!!

WOW - the weeks are flying by and I have the belly to prove it. I'm hoping to get some pictures up soon. The weekend proved to be less than relaxing but it was a good time. We threw Rich aka daddy a surprise birthday party to which he swears was not really a surprise.....what a bum! Of course there was July 4th at the Harris house and then a block party on Saturday night. I should have been ready to come back to work for the rest but really I had to drag my butt out of bed on Monday morning. This weekend is our huge garage sale and Friday is a doctor's appointment. I can't wait to hear our little Jellybean's heartbeat and schedule our big ultrasound!!! I really need to write more in my journal because I haven't picked it up since the move.....I want to make sure that I get plenty written down since this is it as far as pregnancy's go. Okay so on to document a few things and then back to work.




1. I will be 16 weeks pregnant, tomorrow! I can't believe how quickly it seems to be moving but at the same time it seems to move at a snails pace. You know those times when you get up 5 times a night to pee, your tailbone hurts if you sit down and your feet swell if you stand??? Yeah, those times make it seem like an eternity but the rest of the time has been smooth sailing.

2. Swelling - ummmmm, yeah. That's pretty nasty by the end of the day. I've always been prone to it but with the heat and pregnancy.........let's just say I resemble a marshmallow at the end of the day - not pretty!

3. No real cravings other than cereal and milk. Oh and the occassional want of chinese food but really nothing crazy yet. I feel like I've done well this month with weight gain but we'll see come Friday when I go to the doctor's office. I did have my blood glucose checked at my last appointment and they said it was perfect - yay!!

4. I wish I could give a glowing gym report but in all honesty, I suck right now. I'm tired and always have so much going on. I haven't had a free weekend since we moved and the 2 Saturday mornings when I did - I slept late.......I have to get back in the groove. I miss it for the most part and I know I will feel better if I "JUST DO IT"!

5. We are moved and the Summer is in full swing - the kiddo is driving me crazy with all of his activities and the hubby's work schedule has been completely out of whack. Oh, and I seriously need a vacation!!

6. We are having visitors and will be using the nursery for a guest room until the end of September but then I get to start decorating!! I can't wait - not that I have anything picked out.......I just can't seem to find the perfect bedding and of course if you don't know what colors then it's hard to select a crib. Daddy says I'm too picky but I just want this room to be perfect!

Okay gotta run and get back to work - I'll update on the weight gain on Friday afternoon.