Category: Children

14 weeks

Today was a big day. Today I turned 14 weeks pregnant. Most people would say “Yay! You’re at the *safe* point, you’re in the second trimester now!”. But that is far from the truth I know.
I have learned in the last year that no point in a pregnancy is *safe*. Sure, risk goes down, but you’re never *safe*. I have experienced 2 early losses (before 6 weeks), but until last December, bought into the myth that the second trimester was the safe part.
But…
Our daughter Lily was born on May 19, we found out she had died on May 18…the day I was 14 weeks pregnant. Our son Knox died when I was 15 weeks in December. With those losses, I felt like my innocence with pregnancy was lost. I knew after they died that no point is “safe”.

Lily at our 13 week sonogram

 

And today I turned 14 weeks with my current pregnancy, I am 6 months from my due date.  We are living in a new community and I don’t have a healthcare provider yet. I haven’t been able to find a midwife who will be willing to travel to where we live for a home birth and I don’t have a doctor who will let me VBAC here yet. God has always provided the right person to care for us when we needed them and we trust He’s going to do it again. So for now, I am doing my own prenatal care and monitoring my weight, blood pressure, heart rate and baby’s heart beat every week.  It’s been going well. I have easily found the heart beat every week for the last month. And I have been peaceful for the most part.
Then today came.

Daddy and Lily's finger just after she was born

14 weeks, it seemed like I was giving my anxiety over to God every moment of the day. I tried hard not to think about what today meant to me and why it was significant. The boys remembered what today was, they prayed specifically for the baby this morning, they asked when we would listen for the heart beat.
I debated for a long time today. I was trying to decided if I wanted to listen alone or with Kerry and the boys here. I thought about sneaking off to my bedroom while the boys were playing and Kerry was gone to a visitation. But that’s how I learned Knox and Lily had died. I was just listening at home and couldn’t find their heartbeats, I was alone both times.
So tonight, just before bed Kerry suggested we try together to hear our little one’s heartbeat. It is always such a highlight for Zeke to hear the baby. He gets so excited to hear “his baby”, but I didn’t want him to not hear it…I was scared. I pulled the doppler from the closet and laid down on the living room floor. I prayed.
I prayed, as I have every day, that God would protect this little one, that we would be able to hold this little one in our arms…alive…and that he/she would be able to be born at home. I have been able to tell my uterus is growing, which means the baby must be growing. And then we listened. Daddy and I held our breath and we listened.
Lily's foot at 14 weeks

We heard my heartbeat and the blood vessels feeding  my uterus and the placenta. The slow woosh, woosh beating in time with my heart. And just below, in the background we hear the light sound of baby. The faint gallop of hoof-beats. Slight relief, but I want louder…I want more…I want to listen until this baby is born…I want it to be the soundtrack of the next 6 months.
We wait and move the doppler…slow woosh, woosh…then galloping. Strong, loud, steady…my baby’s heart is still beating. I am thankful. I close my eyes in prayer. A prayer of gratitude and thankfulness. Thank you God, for the life of my baby. That this life is still here and we can hear the heart beat. Thank you God!
We listen for a few more minutes and are thankful for each beat we hear. Eventually the baby kicks and moves away. Then in a moment…my mind immediately goes to fear again. Knox had a heartbeat at 14 weeks. My baby is alive…for now.
Ugh! Where does that come from? Why do I let it in to steal the joy and blessing of a heart beating within me? I start to quote in my mind the scripture verse we’re memorizing as a family. “ Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things.” Philipians 4:8. Fear is not true, honorable, right, pure or any of the things mentioned in this verse. Fear is the language Satan speaks and uses to control.
There are many times I have to remind myself to be thankful for the blessings I have been given, to be thankful here in the moment for the blessing I have now. To remember, not to get caught up in the fear of what might happen or what has happened in the past. I know that today my baby is alive. I am joyful, hopeful and so very grateful.
Lily's hand

2 Timothy 1:7

For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.

Blessings

I posted on Facebook this week about a family we met at church. But as it rolled around in my head, I think it warrants a whole blog post.
They are expecting their 10th child. They are stoked. Kerry asked the father how many children he had (Kerry hadn’t seen all of them) and the dad said “We have 9 and are expecting our 10th, The Bible calls them a blessing and reward and we believe that. I feel very blessed and feel even more so as I get older.” Wow that was refreshing! I kinda wanted to say “Hey! Us too!” but didn’t want to interrupt.
I just have to say though, it really isn’t about how many children a family has, but how those children are viewed. We absolutely view children as a blessing, and because we desire the blessing God has for us, choose not to limit our family size. There are a number of reasons that we believe this and we’ve given it a lot of thought and prayer, that’s not the purpose of this post though.
The truth is, whether you have no children or 50, they are blessings…God says so and we believe Him. So many times though we hear parents bemoaning the fact that they are expecting another child or that they can’t handle the ones they have. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard parents tell me “there is no way I could spend all day with my children”. Really? Then how do you expect anyone else to? It’s not just about homeschooling or desiring children, it’s about the attitude children are viewed with.

Sure they require lots of time and sacrifice, of course it can be tough and trying to raise little ones but oh what a reward it is! There is nothing better than being surrounded by your children, watching them laugh and play…or better yet laughing and playing with them! I can’t tell you how many times I have been blessed by hearing one of my children walking through our home singing a song or doing something kind for one of his brothers.

It breaks my heart to hear children being torn down and spoken to with words dripping with disdain and irritation. I long to take hurting children in my arms and tell them they are special and they are loved. How often our paths cross those of children who are hurt at the hands of those entrusted with loving and caring for them. A child sat in my backyard this last week and said wistfully “I wish I lived here with you.” It was all I could do to not pull that child into my lap and tell her she is loved and cared for. All I could muster was “You are always welcome here” and try to hide the tears that were welling in my eyes.

Children are often viewed as “things” be avoided and prevented and tolerated. They should be embraced, welcomed and celebrated. They are gifts from God, they are rewards and blessings. We are missing out if we forget how fortunate we are to have them in our lives.

Psalm 127: 3-5

3 Behold, children are a gift of the Lord,
The fruit of the womb is a reward.
4 Like arrows in the hand of a warrior,
So are the children of one’s youth.
5 How blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them;
They will not be ashamed
When they speak with their enemies in the gate.

Defiance of fear

Today I won a small victory against fear. I will be 11 weeks pregnant this week, rapidly approaching the mark in my pregnancy where I lost Knox and Lily. I try not to dwell on it, I try not to let the fear seep it’s way into my daily thoughts. There are fleeting moments where I think…”what if it happens again?” I can usually push it out and keep going.
But…
Every morning I am greeted with three tubs. They hold my maternity clothes. And I struggle.

The week before Knox was born, I had just unpacked all of my maternity clothes and hung them in my closet. I had finally told work I was expecting because my regular clothes were looking suspiciously tight and not in the “she ate too many chili fries” kind of way. Co-workers who knew me well had already guessed. So before we came back for our Thanksgiving visit, I unpacked, hung up and folded maternity clothes.
Then Knox died.
The night before I went to the hospital I stood in front of my closet and pulled all of those clothes out. I put them back in their tubs…I wouldn’t be needing them after all and I knew I wouldn’t want to pack them when I came home. I cried and I mourned and I was angry. I could hardly see through the tears I was crying as I folded my favorite black sweater I wore with Zeke.
So when I got pregnant with Lily, I decided not to get maternity clothes out until I had passed 15 weeks. I didn’t want to have to pack them away. But I had to pull a few things out because regular clothes were just too uncomfortable. I kept them in their tubs though. Nothing maternity went in my closet. And then she died too.
So now, here I am. Almost 11 weeks pregnant, starting to struggle to button my jeans and not look “frumpy” in anything else. There is a little bulge where this baby is growing and while most of the time it just looks like I ate too many donuts, I could use some clothes that are a little more forgiving. In addition to that, we moved 2 weeks ago and I really hate unpacking clothes. I’m sitting there thinking “if this baby makes it, I’m going to be putting these all away in a month anyway” (I hate thinking that “if” but it is a reality I know now).
But I haven’t been quite daring enough to take the lids off the bins that hold those clothes that signify the “thick around the middle” isn’t fat…it’s baby. I pass those bins sitting at the foot of my bed every morning when I wake up. They remind me of my fear, of my hurt and of the hope that just might be this time. Every day they have psyched me out and dared me to open them. And until this morning I have left the right where the guys who unloaded them put them.
Until today.
In a moment of defiance, of sheer “screw you fear”, I decided to unpack them. “It’s going to be a time waster to unpack my “regular” clothes now and put them away in a month”, I told myself. “They’re just clothes” I reminded myself as I pulled shirt after shirt, paneled pant after paneled pant out of the bin and put them in my closet. “This isn’t going to determine the outcome. God does.” Every so often I would pause and wonder if I’m doing the right thing…if I should wait until…
But I know that God has numbered this baby’s days before he or she was ever created. God knows. He has a plan. Psalm 139:13-16 says…

13 For You formed my inward parts;
You wove me in my mother’s womb.
14 I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Wonderful are Your works,
And my soul knows it very well.
15 My frame was not hidden from You,
When I was made in secret,
And skillfully wrought in the depths of the earth;
16 Your eyes have seen my unformed substance;
And in Your book were all written
The days that were ordained for me,
When as yet there was not one of them.

So I unpacked. And I prayed. I prayed for the health and safety of this baby. I prayed that I would find someone who would care for me, who would support me in my quest for another home birth or at the very least another VBAC.

They hang together in my closet, clumped to one end…but they are there. The empty tubs sit now in the storage room in our basement. If I have to put them away too soon, so be it, but today I defied the fear and the reminder of “what if” that has greeted me every morning.

Why I'm not losing weight…

And why I’m okay with it.
It’s okay to be a little shocked. We were too. The week after I started my weigh in Wednesday posts, we found out we were pregnant. Looking at this pregnancy from the world’s perspective, this is really terrible timing. We got pregnant right before we moved, right before Kerry started a new job and right before my insurance ran out. But…we trust God for His timing of our children. He can see the future and we can’t, so we know that because it is His timing, it is perfect for our family.
And we are thankful, so very thankful.
I am 9 1/2 weeks this week and I am exhausted. We have been in our new home for a week and a half. We have been busy unpacking and getting settled. The work seems unending and all I want to do is sleep.
As I mentioned before, we got pregnant right before my insurance with my old job ran out (tomorrow to be exact). And since I will be a stay at home mom, we have to buy insurance privately. Kansas though, considers pregnancy a pre-existing condition so no private insurance will cover me. Which leaves two choices…buy COBRA from my old job which is way expensive or go without insurance. We are praying for guidance in this area. If I hadn’t just experienced two losses in the second trimester, I would be less nervous about going without insurance.
I am still looking for a provider. I could drive 4 hours back to Pueblo and see my providers there…but that’s a four hour drive. I don’t really want to just go and stay there for the last 2 weeks of my pregnancy waiting for labor to happen and a 4 hour drive in labor doesn’t sound appealing either. Not to mention my labor with Titus wasn’t exactly a long one. There are no midwives here in Western Kansas and the ones closest (3-4 hours away) won’t drive here. I haven’t had much luck finding a doctor who will “let” me VBAC either, so I’m still searching. I guess it’s okay I don’t have insurance yet because I don’t have anyone who will see me. We’re praying we can find the right person to care for me. God has answered this prayer in the past and we trust He will again.
We are so very thankful to be pregnant again. We are praying that this baby will be born healthy and the pregnancy will be uncomplicated. We know that God has created this little one and He is in control. We pray daily for His provision, His guidance and His protection for our children.
Thank you for praying for us.

Two years ago

Two years ago I had one of the most incredible experiences of my entire life. It was the day we welcomed Titus into our family. So much has happened in the last two years to our family, and yet I am thankful because those experiences help me appreciate the blessing of my children even more. Two years ago our little guy looked like this…


And today…
He is such a busy boy and a huge blessing to our family. He is very opinionated and not shy about telling us exactly what he thinks. At the same time, he is so tender hearted and works hard to do everything his big brothers do.
Below is the story of his birth I posted a few days after he was born. I am so thankful for the gift that he is.

BIRTH STORY
We have been so blessed with the addition of Titus this past week! I’ve had several people send me messages asking if his homebirth was “on purpose” so I thought I’d write an abbreviated version of our birth story. In short…yes his homebirth was on purpose and it was awesome!
His birth story begins kind of with Gabe’s almost 8 years ago. I had a c-section with him after a failed induction at 37 weeks. With Otto I had a repeat c-section and when it was time for me to have Zeke, my doctor who had initially been VBAC (vaginal birth after a cesarean) friendly changed his mind and threatened to drop me from his practice. I felt very backed into a corner and consented to my 3rd c-section.
When I became pregnant with Titus, I wanted a different outcome and began researching my options and the current research regarding having a 4th c-section to having a VBAMC (VBAmultipleC). The research is limited, but what there is shows that even VBAMC are relatively safe and the risk of uterine rupture (which is the big fear with VBAC) is still less than 1-2%. The current culture in the hospital is not VBAC friendly even after 1 c/s and is definitely not friendly after 2 or more.  So I began researching a homebirth with a midwife, discussing options and research with Kerry and covering each decision with lots of prayer. I would encourage any woman to do her research and pray before making her birth choices. There is a lot out there.
We found a midwife willing to take me as a client, who was also a believer, and began our journey. My pregnancy, like all of them, was uneventful and pretty normal. As part of my care, I saw a chiropractor once a month to help align my pelvis and spine and help position baby correctly. One of the reasons I had a c/s with Gabe was because he was malpositioned, so I wanted to avoid that if at all possible.
We prayed regularly as a family for God to honor our desire to have more children (something that would be really frowned upon after having 4-5 c/s) and our desire for a homebirth. Every time fear would creep in, we’d pray and turn it over to God. He has answered so many prayers along the way!
Towards the end of my pregnancy, I started to get nervous that my body wouldn’t know what to do. It had never been asked to actually “get a baby out”. I was wondering if it would know how to go into labor, how to birth a baby, and would I be strong enough to do it?
The day after my due date I started having a few contractions, but they weren’t terribly uncomfortable or regular, although they felt different from the contractions I’d been having for weeks. We spent the day running errands, I made a quick visit to the chiropractor (just in case this was really it) and napped in the afternoon. My contractions kept coming, but were still irregular and relatively comfortable. I called our midwife a couple of times during the day to update her, but felt like it was going to be a long evening/night if this was the real thing.
That evening about 7pm or so we took a mile(ish) walk around our neighborhood. My contractions were still irregular, but I had to stop a couple of times to let them pass. I was still able to talk through them. Being a L&D nurse, I really wasn’t sure this was going to be it or that it would be any time soon, because nothing was textbook. 🙂
I decided to rest and just hang out that evening and talked to our doula and photographer about 10pm. I talked to her through a contraction and told her I wasn’t sure I’d need her yet, but she could come this way just so she’d be here when I did. Mom and I set up the air mattress in our spare room because I was sure they (the doula) would be sleeping here. I also called the midwife and told her I was still doing fine and I’d have Kerry call when we needed her, but not to worry I thought it was going to be a while still.
I laid down on the couch to get some rest, and had one really big contraction that was quite uncomfortable. But the next couple were manageable again. My water broke about 10:30 and that’s when things got “fun”. Kerry called the midwife to let her know and she said she’d head down. Kerry and I came upstairs to fill the pool (we had set up a little pool in our bedroom for me to labor in) and my contractions started coming much much faster and stronger. Mom and the big boys (Zeke was asleep) were downstairs watching a movie and had no idea things had really picked up.
I spent about 30 minutes in the pool and then walked to the bathroom. Once I was there my contractions were so intense and my mind was racing. Kerry says I was really pretty calm, but in my mind I was going nuts. At one point I told Kerry “I’m hysterical….I can’t be hysterical”. He was so good at keeping me calm and focused. He wasn’t (at least he didn’t act like it) scared or panicked at all. About 10:15 I felt my body pushing and I couldn’t stop. In my head I was sure I wasn’t ready to push and was worried I was going to do something that would make my labor go longer.
At that point, Kerry took the cell phone to mom and asked her to call our midwife to let her know I felt like pushing and to hurry. 🙂 The midwife told me to go ahead and push if I needed to and that she was about 15 minutes away. Mom and Kerry stayed in the bathroom with me and the boys kept watching their movie. Kerry suggested I move to the pool again, because he thought I would be more comfortable and it would be easier to birth there. I made it about two steps before I said “I can’t” and kneeled on the floor.
The next thing I really remember was telling mom and Kerry “there is his head” and to “check for a nuchal cord” (a cord around the neck). He had a loose one that we could easily slip over and the rest of him was born. I was able to put him right on my chest and we covered him with towels  and dried him off, he was pink right away. I think I kept saying “I did it! I did it!” Kerry was so excited, but still very calm and had the presence of mind to grab the camera and take a few pictures.
He asked the big boys if they wanted to come see their brother and they both ran upstairs. Gabe (***note we later found out that Gabe handed the camera off to Otto) took the camera and took pictures, and he did such a good job! About 10 minutes after he was born our midwife came in. The apprentice midwife came about 10 minutes after that. Titus James was born at 11:32pm on 8/26/10. He was direct OP (which means facing up instead of down, the same position Gabe was in), but I truly think prayer, positioning and the care I received made all the difference. He weighed 7lbs 11oz (my second biggest baby) and was 19 3/4 inches long. The rest of the story is pretty “routine” for postpartum, but it just all happened at home which was awesome!
I didn’t really think I would go that quickly in labor, especially since I hadn’t done it before. I was completely surprised by the whole experience, but it was exactly what we needed.
I fully believe in birth choices. I think women should be able to choose when, where and how to give birth. By in large, those choices are being taken away for many reasons. If a woman wants to birth in a hospital, home or birthing center…let her. If she wants to VBAC or schedule a repeat c/s…let her. I often heard after my c/s that what really mattered was a “healthy mom and healthy baby” which is true…but that health also includes mental health. For some women it is mentally and physically the best choice to have another c/s, for others it is the option to have a VBAC.
For me, this time and every time from now on (Lord willing), homebirth will be my choice. I pass no judgement on whomever chooses something different for their birth. It is important that the risks vs benefits are considered for each option and in each case. And for each woman make the decision that is right for her, her family and her baby.
Each birth and each child is special and a blessing however they come. This birth for me though, has been incredibly healing, empowering and faith building. God is good and we are so thankful for His blessings and His faithfulness. I want to add too, how incredibly important it was for me to know that others were praying for me. My midwife, my doula, our families and friends. I believe God honored those prayers and they brought me so much peace and confidence throughout this whole process. He has blessed us many times over!
Praising Him,
Erin

Listen

Listen.
I’ve talked with moms about how to win the heart of their children. At a time when we can check email, Facebook, twitter and text on our phones, it’s easy to forget the easiest and perhaps simplest way of showing our children they matter.
Listen to them.
I am guilty of sometimes tuning out the din around me to work (especially because I work primarily online now). I have been guilty of having one of the boys come up to me and say “hey mom guess what?!” and they barely get an acknowledgment from me. In fact, there have been times when they’ve been talking to me and the web sucks me back in…eventually they quit talking and walk away. What kind of message does that send to my children? If we aren’t willing to listen to the “little” things they’re telling us, they won’t want to tell us the “big” things.
In the last couple of months I have been feeling convicted about how little I listened, really listened, to my children when they were talking. I have purposed to put away my phone when they’re talking, to not check Facebook while my husband is trying to say something and to be willing to look up from my computer when they say “Guess what!” I have also changed my daily routine so that I have time to work during naptime or after they go to bed so that I’m not distracted.
Our children have much to say. We are building a foundation with them now while they are young. If we show them that they are important, that we want to hear what they have to say they will want to talk more to us. They’ll start to share not only their discoveries on the sidewalk, but also the desires of their hearts. And as they get older, they’ll feel safe sharing their struggles, their fears and what hides deep down.
If you want to win the heart of your child the first step is to listen to them. Show them they matter.

Off guard

I was caught off guard today by my emotions.
I was going through some bins in our basement and came across our costume bin. As I was sorting through, towards the bottom there it was. The dress-up dress I have been saving since before I was married for my “someday daughter” and my breath caught in my throat. My eyes filled with tears at the reminder of the daughter I have lost and the son I still grieve. Both whom I long for.
I cried.
I grieved for the daughter I won’t be holding in November. I felt hot anger about the fact that I have a bin that is labeled “Lord willing girl stuff” and the womb where I carried my daughter is empty. I’ve hidden away a hand knit dress that a co-worker gave me when I was in California. I have a headband with a ridiculously gigantic flower on it and a pink onesie with little daisies around the collar. It’s all packed away in the back of the closet, waiting and hoping for a baby.
It hit me this morning…what if all it does is sit there and wait? What if there isn’t another baby, what if that daughter never comes? What it?  And the gravity of the grief came crashing down. I sat on my floor and grieved my children, my empty arms and the unknown ahead.
I sat and felt sorry for myself. But as I wallowed I saw…
Around the corner peeked two little eyes. In came a sleepy eyed little one carrying his sippy cup. He curled up on my lap and patted my arm. He looked puzzled at the tears on my cheeks. I inhaled and snuggled the warmth of his little bed wrinkled cheek. I thanked God for the blessing of my children. All of them, the ones I get to hold and the ones I don’t. He reminded me, while I grieve I should rejoice. I should delight and I should trust.
I was caught off guard today, but the Lord did not let me fall.

Proverbs 3: 5-8

5 Trust in the Lord with all your heart

And do not lean on your own understanding.

6 In all your ways acknowledge Him,

And He will make your paths straight.

7 Do not be wise in your own eyes;

Fear the Lord and turn away from evil.

8 It will be healing to your body

And refreshment to your bones.

 

 

I wonder

After losing 4 babies, 2 of them in the last 6 months, I wonder.
I wonder if I get pregnant again and if I get to carry that baby to term…if I will complain. I have wanted so desperately with my last 2 pregnancies to hold my precious children, I have longed to go to them in the night and snuggle them close. So I wonder…will I embrace it for the blessing it is? Will I begrudge the loss of sleep, the fatigue, the frustration?
i wonder, after spending 30 weeks in the first trimester, if I’m blessed again to become pregnant…will I pray for the nausea to go away? Will I gripe about not being able to eat or the feeling of constant motion? Or will I be thankful that I am carrying and growing a child?
I wonder too, at times, if I will ever be able to experience those things again. I wonder if my first home birth will be my last…my only. I am so very thankful that my very dear friend talked me into taking pregnancy pictures. 2 years ago I was big and pregnant and thought “this is old hat…there will be others…why take pictures?” But…2 years later…2 pregnancies…2 deaths…2 empty arms later and I am so very grateful for those moments captured.
I wonder what lies ahead for me and my family. I wonder if Zeke will ever get his baby sister that he prays for almost every day. I wonder if Otto will be able to talk to and tell stories to another baby in my womb. I wonder if I’ll be able to feel those first flutters for longer than a few days, if I’ll be able to experience labor and anticipate the birth of my child rather than dread what lies ahead. I wonder how God will use my children, my grief, our story for His glory.
I pray often about what lies ahead and I wonder.

Microscope

We are candidating this weekend at a church. (I say we because it is never just about Kerry).
It’s our *first* one. It is busy. And I feel a little bit like we’re under the microscope. It’s has been a good experience and we’ve met wonderful people. But I constantly wonder if I’m being evaluated and there is going to be secret meeting where score cards are tallied and we’re given a grade. It may come from my dysfunctional upbringing, but I always wonder if I’m getting dinged for behavior or a misstep somewhere.
But I decided before we came that I wasn’t going to put pressure on my children to “behave” any differently than the usual expectation for our family. I didn’t want them to feel like they had to be on display or put on a show for all the nice people.
I decided that we were going to be just us.
For two reasons really, the first is that if we do come here I don’t want to have to keep that show going long term. I mean it’s a lot of work to pretend you’re something you’re not.  And the second is that if the church in general is going to be relevant and authentic to the world around them, then there shouldn’t be any reason to “put on a show” for anyone. Whether they’re interviewing, visiting or have been coming through the doors for years. We should be willing to welcome (and let’s face it sometimes tolerate) each other with our children who run in the hall, our voices that sing off key and personalities that may be too bold for our taste.
Now I have to confess, there have been a couple times I’ve turned around in the car and reminded the boys that we’re going to someone else’s house for dinner and to remember to say please and thank you (and don’t eat the dog biscuits or strip down in your underwear to  play in the water…yes those things have all happened and there are stories behind them). But other than that we are who we are…who God made us. There is always room for growth and there is always something to learn, but we are not show animals. We are people and if we want to reach out to people and share the love of Christ with them we must be willing to be seen as we are without the facade of “good behavior” only pulled out on special occasions like fine china.
For us this weekend isn’t just an opportunity to candidate for a church but it’s also an opportunity for us (me especially) to be comfortable with being who we are and to practice being authentic. To make no apologies for the fact that I have 4 boys who keep going back for animal crackers because you leave the jar wide open on the counter. To be proud of my *little* family and our wackiness, our shyness (and not so shyness). I am reminded that God has brought our family together and is molding it as only He can.
So as we’re “under the microscope” my prayer is that those looking can see the work of Christ in our lives and in our family. That they can see His handiwork more than they can see anything else.
 

Doubt

For the first time this week I doubted whether I could be a stay at home mom. I have wanted nothing more for the last several years than to be home with my children. I was ready to walk out the door and go back to work.
I felt so guilty when Kerry got home from work because I so doubted myself. I struggle a bit with thinking I have to “master” this stay at home mom thing. I am a goal oriented person, I like to excel at what I do, I like to master things. So in the last month I have approached being at home the same way I do any thing else. With a plan, a list, an idea of how it *should* be when I’m done.
I forgot to factor in one thing…my “team” isn’t always on board. In fact, my team of children sometimes doesn’t even care what is on my list or that I want to be the best at home mom ever.
Monday was a particularly trying day. No one listened to me, the boys fought, and it seemed like every time I turned around I was brushing my teeth while eating Oreos. I vacuumed the floor only to have a child 5 minutes later roll over a rogue shredded wheat with his car, smushing it into my newly vacuumed carpet. I swept the floor only to have the bird seed get dumped just after I hung up the dust pan. I folded laundry only to have a new pile magically appear after direction was given to clean out from underneath the beds.
So I began to wonder if it was my system that was broken (I would say partly yes and we’re working on it). I questioned my ability to do “job” after job only to have it undone again. I seriously thought I might go nuts if I had to turn circles all day long doing the same thing over and over again. I tend to like projects…do something, get it done and it stays done. It’s just not so when you’re working at home.
I did have small successes though, I didn’t yell. Not once. Not when the dog walked through mud and drug it in on my clean floor (don’t ask how the mud got there, we haven’t had rain in Pueblo for over a week). I didn’t yell when 2 minutes after I corrected for disobedience, it happened again, with the same thing. I didn’t yell when the 3 year old “helped” by taking off the diaper of the 1 year old and didn’t tell me or put a new one on and instead laughed hysterically when said 1 year old peed all over the floor. I also didn’t yell when the dog bowl was used for a swimming pool, in my kitchen. I prayed moment by moment. I made a choice to lower my voice, to be calm when all I really wanted to do was call my husband and work and say “I’m outta here” (for a little while at least).
As I navigated through the trials of the day, I kept thinking “and we’re not even doing school yet, there’s no way I can pull this off”.  But that’s what the enemy wants us to do isn’t it? Doubt? He wants us to doubt ourselves so much that we are disobedient to what we’ve been called to do. I had to remind myself how hard it was to go to work every morning, driving away from my family and missing them. I had to remind myself that here, at home, is where I am called to be. Loving, training, teaching.
I still have a lot to learn, I am still working on my “system” when I’m home, but I have learned that this may be something I never master, because there is always a new lesson to learn. My goal has now become to be the mother and wife I have been created to be. My goal isn’t to be the “expert” stay at home mom, it is to be obedient, to be pliable, to learn as much as I teach and to focus on my reward in Heaven. To work so that when I die and see my God, He will say “Well done good and faithful servant”, even if no one here on earth ever does.