Life's About Changing

I've never dealt well with change.  From as far back as a little girl, I can remember struggling through the normal changes that come with life, whether it be from a big move to a new city, a friendship that had run its course, a move to a new school...  To me, every change just seemed like an end.  I could never see a clear, new beginning. My Momma use to let me lay my head in her lap, she would stroke my hair and do her signature "tickle my ear" way of soothing.  Many times, she would sing the lines from an old Patty Loveless song,

"Time will ease your pain,

Life's about changing,

Nothin' ever stays the same... 

Come let me hold you and I will try, 

How can I help you to say goodbye..."

And, even though I'm an adult now, and have learned to navigate the winds of change much more swiftly, I still often times find myself humming the lines to that old familiar song.  Tonight is definitely one of those nights.  I'm not sad and I'm not regretful.  But change is still bittersweet for me.  

Tonight, I put my dream job in the past and let God finish a work in my heart that I know He has been doing for a long time.  I never thought I would be the type of mom who could be "just" a stay at home mom.  When Mackenzie was born, I wanted more than anything to be able to work.  And when I joined my current company, I was thrilled to have an identity that I believed would keep me from becoming "just another stay at home mom".  Over the course of the past few years, God has slowly but surely been  giving me a new heart and a new desire.

A few months back as I was driving to work, I prayed and asked for a way to stay at home with my kids more. And, no joke, less than two hours later, I was sitting in the office of our Executive Director, listening to her tell me that the company was making changes and that my hours would be cut.  Oddly enough, I didn't see this as a blessing.  I was angry.  I'm not sure quite why.  Clearly, God was working boldly and swiftly to answer my prayer.  I just hadn't trusted Him enough to do so and take care of the needs of our family.

So, here we are, two months later, and tonight I made a change.  I punched out of my position for the very last time and I will punch in to a new one later this week.  I'll be staying home with Mackenzie several more days a week. To say I am thrilled would be an understatement.  It's been pretty incredible to see God work from the moment I spoke that prayer, to all of the details and blurs that needed to be filled between then and now.  Every single one of them has been filled.  No detail has been left unknown.  God really did hear my heart and He met me where I was at.

More than anything, this change for me tonight is not just a job change.  This change has been one of my heart.  I'm looking back on where I was three years ago, so desperately trying to hold on to the parts of me that "were" from before I became a mom.  And here I am today, loving the life I have with my little girl when I am at home.  I can work the rest of my life.  But I can only dance in my holiday socks, and do the wiggles with my three-year-old for a short time longer. She'll be in kindergarten before I know it and I'll be in my car doing the "ugly cry" after sending her off to her first day of school.  And on the way home I'll be humming that old familiar momma song...

"Life's about changing, 

nothin' ever stays the same..."

So here's to change.  Here's to living it.  Here's to experiencing it.  Here's to embracing it and being thankful for it.  Here's to feeling...well, a little bittersweet.  But here's to seeing the clear, new beginning that change always brings.

DIY Burlap Pillows

Recently, a friend and her husband were featured on the HGTV Show "House Hunters".  When the episode aired, Liz and Mike had some throw pillows on their bed that I fell in love with.  While watching, I told my husband, "We've got to get some of those pillows." 

Only, when I started searching different sites, I found that most of them cost $60 or more. 

And while I absolutely loved these ones by The Virginia House...

I'm cheap and we're on a grad school budget.

So, I started searching Pinterest for ideas on how to create my own.

I started by creating a stencil using the computer and card stock printing paper.  Follow along if you want the instructions.  If not, skip to the part where I stencil the letters.

Creating the Stencil

1. Start by choosing a font and by adjusting the letter sizes to how big or small you would like them.

2. Next, left click with the mouse and choose "font" on the drop down box.

3. Once the font box has opened, look for the "text effects" option towards the bottom and choose it.

4. Now you can choose "text outline" and "solid line",

(this should give you a solid black outline around your text).

5. And finally, change the font color to white (or a color that is lighter than the black outline).

*There may be an easier and more common sense way to do all of this but humor me...this was the best I could come up with.

6. Print the outline letter and get your box cutter ready.

7. I chose a box cutter rather than scissors and I'm so glad I did.  Make sure you angle the cutter down instead of straight up as your are tracing the letter.  If you miss using the blade, it won't actually cut the paper in all spots and you'll have to redo parts of the tracing.

8. Now you are officially done with the stenciling and you are ready to trace your letters onto the burlap.

As I wrote in my Burlap Wreath Post, burlap is very inexpensive and can sometimes be bought from craft stores for as low as $1.99 a yard. You can't beat that.  I bought one yard of fabric and cut it in half to cover both my throw pillows.

I'm almost embarrassed to say how easy this whole project ended up being.  I actually chose to stencil my letters with a metallic gold Sharpie Marker.  I could have used paint but I figured with a toddler running through my house, I just risked being knocked into and spilling paint everywhere.

And finally, once the letters were touched up, I hand sewed the burlap onto my old throw pillows.  The sewing took a little bit of time but I wasn't sure if I could use a sewing machine on burlap.

 

 

You can find a simple tutorial here on how  to recover pillows.  It really is as simple as  ironing the the hems and sewing the two sides of the pillowcase inside out.  When the two sides are sewn, flip the pillowcase to the correct side, stuff your pillow inside the case and sew up the bottom of the pillow.

And finally...

The total cost for this project was under $5.00.  Because we already had the throw pillows, the only purchases I made were the burlap and the  package of markers.

I'm pretty excited with how these turned out and I may add an "&" sign somewhere down the road to another pillow.  Hope I didn't miss anything!  I would love to see pictures if you make your own.  A special thanks to Liz & Mike for giving me the idea to create some of our own!

Love,

Love Affair With Burlap...

I've gotten quite a few questions about the burlap wreath I just finished so I wanted to add pictures to give others an idea of how to make one.  It was very simple and it's definitely one of my favorite DIY projects to date.

I purchased a yard of burlap at JoAnn's.  The burlap runs for $3.99 a yard and if you use one of their weekly coupons, you can sometimes get it for as low as $1.99 for a yard.  

Hence, the reason I'm having a love affair with burlap right now. 

I began by cutting the burlap into strips.

I used a single stray strand of the burlap and threaded it through a needle-

 (if you look closely at the above picture you can see stray strands of burlap fraying at the edges.  I tore those off until I had one long enough to use as a thread).

I connected the two sides of my first strip of fabric with the needle and thread.

I gathered the fabric in three pleats and brought the needle down from where I first stitched (at the top of my fabric) and brought the needle through each pleat.

Repeat this step.

Gather three pleats and bring the needle down and through the pleats (pulling tight after each set of pleats).  It should begin to look like the picture below.

And when you have finished and run out of your first strip of fabric, it should look something like the picture below.

Below is a completed strip of fabric placed on a wreath to give an idea of what it should look like.

I continued to to make pleats with each strip of cut fabric and I sewed them together until they were long enough to cover the whole wreath.

When the pleats were complete I used a hot glue gun to attach the burlap to the wreath. I also used stray burlap pieces and tied them around both the burlap and the actual wreathe to make it more secure.  The burlap blends  in so you cant see the tied pieces.  

Lastly, go to hobby lobby and go crazy in the dried flower department.

I could spend hours in that place.

In total this project cost under $5.00. 

Soon I'll post about our DIY burlap pillows.  I'm thrilled with how our first one turned out and I can't wait to share the set of them and explain how easy they were to make.

Love,

I Am Pro Mom

Yesterday morning, on my way to work, I got my first earful about the NYC "breastfeeding initiative".  As I have said before, my initial reaction when I hear anything that might sound even remotely critical of non-breastfeeding moms, is to get angry.  I've shared a little about my own experience with breastfeeding and it was pretty awful.  So when I heard a male caller on the radio sharing that he had to "sit his wife down and tell her that as a family, they would be breastfeeding", I was pretty pissed.  I was furious at Mayor Michael Bloomberg for creating an initiative geared towards women and babies and well, breasts (which he clearly does not have).  I was angry at this man who thought he could dictate his wife's choice of how to feed their child.  My first thought was, "How dare you!?"  These men can't even begin to understand the feelings and emotions and bodily changes that go on with a mom before, during and after giving birth.  So how can they say what we "should" and "shouldn't" do?  

With that said, I got out of my car and marched all hot headed into work.  I was ready to fight.  I was thinking of how to contact the radio station, who could get me the direct line to the NYC mayor and what moms might be willing to fight right along with me.  Now, roughly 24 hours later, I've cooled off.  I've cleared my head a little and I've thought and researched a ton on this new initiative. And no, I didn't even give a call to Mayor Bloomberg to give him my thoughts.  But I will give them to you.


First of all, let me just say, thank you, thank you, thank you, to all of my facebook momma  and non momma friends who respectfully and openly shared their views on this topic.  I can not tell you have nice it was to see a polite, respectful, "non-mommy-war" conversation taking place in a social media setting.  I was impressed.  Never at any point did I feel like judgement was cast or as if someone was taking aim at another momma's parenting style.  I loved that.  That is rare these days.  Way to support each other ladies.


Second of all, after doing some research and reading several articles on this new initiative, I can officially say that I am FOR (yes- you are reading this correctly), this initiative.  Well, mostly.  


From what I understand, the basic idea of this new "Latch On NYC" Initiative is this: The "Latch On NYC" initiative is voluntary for both hospitals and patients and it is designed as a way to encourage and support new moms in the effort to breastfeed.  Sounds harmless to me. Actually, it sounds pretty great.  


Here are  some more basic facts of this new initiative according to MedPage Today.

• Within hospitals, baby formula will be kept in locked storage rooms, cabinets, or automated medication systems, to which only certain staff members will have access. Staff members must record each time formula is used and the reason it was used, and that information will be shared with the city's health department monthly
• Discontinuing the distribution of promotional or free infant formula
• Prohibiting the display and distribution of infant formula promotional materials, including bags and other items branded by formula companies, in any hospital location.

Now, I don't have a problem with any of these specific guidelines.  While I don't love the idea of formula being "locked up" as if new moms are addicts foaming at the mouth and just waiting for nurses to leave their posts, it really isn't directly offensive to me.  

And, if you know me, you know I never turn down freebies and goody bags. However, I do feel that formula companies make their money off of new moms who are vulnerable and might revert to formula at the first sign of breastfeeding troubles. So with that said, I understand and support the removal of formula samples and goody bag freebies from hospital bedsides.  Deborah Kaplan, with the New York City Health Department says, "Mothers, pregnant women these days are bombarded by marketing materials, by email, by mail, in magazines, by the infant formula industry. When a mother comes to a hospital, the last thing she needs is more marketing." 

My biggest concern with these guidelines is two fold.  

First of all, I've heard that all women will be "counseled" or "lectured" each time they request formula.  They will be told the benefits of breastfeeding and the negatives of formula feeding.  

Secondly, nowhere in this initiative have I seen anything that has said lactation specialists will be hired or brought in to assist mothers who do choose to breastfeed.  

And here are the reasons I have these concerns:

1. I believe that at no other time in a woman's life is she more vulnerable and more susceptible to taking on shame and guilt.  After a baby is born, we as new moms need and crave someone- anyone- to affirm us and to tell us that we are making the best decisions for our new baby.  And speaking from my own experience, I know that had I been "lectured" (or even just reminded) at every feeding on why I was making the "lesser choice" for my daughter, it would have added and contributed significantly to the guilt and shame that I was already battling.  Is this the intent of doctors and nurses?  I don't really believe so.  I believe they will  be doing so without knowing how far reaching and damaging their words actually are.  Katherine Stone, founder of postpartum progress, says it well, "I believe that repeating over and over how you are essentially making the wrong decision for your baby, without any regard to why the mom has made the decision and why in this case it might be the best one, could end up being tantamount to shaming." 

2. If this initiative really and truly is a way to encourage and support new breastfeeding moms, then hospitals sure as hell better get some trained professionals on staff to assist and help new moms as  they start out.  And this is where I will share with you my experience.

I delivered Mackenzie at Prentice Hospital in the heart of downtown Chicago.  According to the website, Prentice is praised as a "One million square foot state-of-the-art hospital dedicated to providing care for the unique needs of women through all stages of life." Because of how new this hospital was and because of it's location, we had very high expectations for the care we would receive after Mackenzie was born.  I should preface this by saying that, after working in a health care setting myself for several years now, I am always hesitant to criticize because I know that often health care settings are given a limited budget and are short staffed.  I get it.  No amount of care will be perfect no matter how expensive or how new the facility is.  But in this case, I feel it is necessary to share and critique.  

After Mackenzie was born, we stayed at Prentice for three full days.  During our stay, I don't ever remember being seen by a lactation specialist (which according to the Prentice site, they have them on staff).  What I do remember is being seen by nurses who rotated shifts every several hours.  We were given different advice by each nurse that we saw.  So much varying advice that Jeremy and both became incredibly overwhelmed.  Mackenzie would not latch, my nipples were not extended enough to allow her to latch, my milk hadn't come in yet and even when it did finally come in (on day 3), I still wasn't producing enough to give her a full belly. We left the hospital on that third day, feeling incredibly discouraged.  We were no closer to understanding how to feed our new baby on our own and we were being sent home with a load full of (yes!) baby formula. 

Once home, we hired a lactation specialist to visit us.  She charged (I kid you not) $100.00 an hour for her help.  And because we felt desperate, we paid through the roof.  We just wanted someone to teach us how to feed our starving child.  And when she got to our home, that's exactly what she told us.  That Mackenzie wasn't getting enough at her feedings and that we would have to supplement with formula.  Over the next six weeks, feeding at our home became a nightmare.  The schedule went something like this: Feed for 30 minutes on each breast using the plastic nipple (an hour total), supplement with a bottle for another 20 minutes.  And I would pump between each feeding to try and increase my supply.  Repeat. Our life revolved around feeding and trying to get feeding "down".

Six weeks after Mackenzie was born, our breastfeeding nightmare came to an abrupt halt.  On a Friday night I woke up to the most excruciating pain I have ever experienced.  I was hospitalized that night for dehydration, multiple infections and kidney stones.  We were told that I would have to "pump and dump" for two weeks while Mackenzie drank solely formula.  Because I was never producing enough breast milk in the first place, we had literally none saved up in our freezer for an emergency like this.  What's worse (and this is where I will again, stress a lack of hospital support), is that after waking up from surgery, my first and only request was that someone bring me a breast pump.  I was engorged and in pain and leaking.  I waited hours and hours for that pump.  It never came.  I asked multiple times.  By the time I was released from the hospital that night, my entire hospital gown was drenched in breast milk.  I literally could have wrung my gown out with sticky milk.  My supply was completely gone.  I was incredibly embarrassed and frustrated.   And so, 6 weeks after giving birth, in that same hospital that I first decided I was going to breastfeed, I quit.  I was done. I waved the white flag.  

Hospital support?  Ha! What support?  This is the first time since giving birth that I have actually written out my breastfeeding story.  And now reading it back to myself, I am shaking my head in disgust. I am in full support of this initiative IF and ONLY if, hospitals leave out the "guilt" tactic and in turn provide trained, licensed professionals who are there to aid and SUPPORT mothers as they learn to breastfeed.  Oh, and provide a dang breast pump for crying out loud.

One online writer Moxie, says it very well. She writes, "Had I been mayor I'd have gone about it in a different way, by requiring any formula company that wants to market directly to consumers in a vulnerable position to fund the salaries of three full-time lactation consultants for every 10 beds in a maternity ward so there is always an LC available to troubleshoot problems, along with providing training in breastfeeding once a year for every RN, LPN and MD on the floor."  Can I get an Amen?  I like the way this woman thinks.  

I'm almost done (I promise).  I guess the biggest thing I want to say after having done my research and having shared it is this: 

I am pro-mom.  I am 110% in favor of anything that will provide emotional and physical care for the well being of all moms out there.  Just because my own experience with breastfeeding was poor, doesn't mean I don't want other moms to succeed.  And if this initiative will in fact help moms to succeed in breastfeeding, then that is exceptional and I will support it.  

With that said, being pro-mom also means that I will fight tooth and nail to eliminate the nasty, guilt and anxiety provoking tactics that this world uses to make mommas feel less of themselves.  I get angry when I hear of moms pitting themselves up against other moms.  My blood boils when I hear of mothers who are criticized and torn down to made feel less of themselves because of their own personal choices for their families.  There's something very wrong with that.  We are strong, capable women.  And why should we be bullied into thinking otherwise?  I hope more than anything, that this initiative does act as a successful support system for new moms and that it doesn't further fuel the "mommy wars" that I so deeply despise.  I hope this new initiative means that we are taking a step forward in an effort to encourage and support mothers in this already tough role we have.  This is what I hope.

Not Your Average Interview...

Mackenzie Leigh at 3 Years Old

Once again, Pinterest provided a great idea and I ran with it...

Ask your child every year on his or her birthday, the same questions and see each year how the answers change.  So here are Mackenzie's 3 year old interview questions.  

*I tried my very best to quote these answers exactly as they were given.  No edits!

1. What is your favorite color? "Pink!"

2. What is your favorite toy? "Ummm.  Hmm. What do I like? My purse!"

3. What is your favorite fruit? "Lemonade!" (I started to argue that this wasn't a real fruit but then I realized, well, it kind of is...haha.)

4. What is your favorite tv show? "Max and Ruby!"

5. What is your favorite thing to eat for lunch? "Ham and cheese sandwich."

6. What is your favorite outfit? "Ohhh...what do I like on my shirt?  I like Larry and Bob." 

To which I said, "You don't have a Larry and Bob shirt." "Ohhh...what do I like then?  I like a dress with flowers on it!"

7. What is your favorite game? "Basketball!"  To which I asked, "Have you ever played basketball?" "No, but when I get big and strong I want to play basketball with you!"  "How bout soccer ball?" 

8. What is your favorite snack? "I like macaronie." "For a snack?" "Okay, I like goldfish."

9. What is your favorite animal? "I like Grover and Abby."  Once again, I was going to argue but....are they not animals?  I think they are?? "Okay, what about your favorite Zoo animal?" (more what I was originally aiming for) "Elephants!"

10. What is your favorite song? "The Taylor song.  The people throw rocks one."

11. What is your favorite book? "Pete the Cat!"

12. Who is your best friend? "Abby." (Next door neighbor)

13. What is your favorite breakfast food? "Pancakes and waffles."

14. What is your favorite thing to do outside? "Play house!  And make food in my house."

15. What is your favorite drink? "Hot chocolate!"

16. What is your favorite holiday? "Halloween."

17. What do you like to take to bed with you at night? "Teddy!"

18. What is your favorite thing to do with mommy and daddy? "I like to help you clean up."

Let's see if this is the same answer next year ;)

19. What was your favorite birthday memory? "My tricycle." 

 

20. What do you want to be when you grow up? "I want to play something...""Yes, but what kind of job do you want to do?" "I want to be a doctor." "Will you be a doctor for me when I am sick mommy?" "Yes, of course." 

20. What makes you sad? "When I go poo in my pants." (She'll kill me for this one someday)

21. What makes you happy?  "Pancakes and playing with my toys." (Both of which she was doing during this interview.  I think they were at the forefront of her mind.)

22. What are you most excited for right now? "Papa and Grandma and Aunt Kels! And Teddy's birthday party! And singing to him."

A Journey Come Full Circle

Well, today was certainly incredible.  I'm trying not to cry just thinking about it.  This morning I had the opportunity to share about my journey through postpartum depression on 90.1 Moody Radio in Chicago.  What an honor.  What a privilege.  It was three years ago this very week that I began to struggle with postpartum depression.  We had just brought Mackenzie home from the hospital and I was scared as anything.  Today I spoke and and shared my heart with women all over my city, the city where it all began.  And today, everything seemed to come full circle.  Today was just proof of God's unfailing grace in my life and in the ways He is using my weaknesses for HIS good. And while every day that I walked was so incredibly difficult, now looking back, I believe it in my deepest parts that it was all worth it.  Funny how that can happen.

I have no idea who reads this blog. But when Elizabeth Henderson, producer of "This Is The Day" asked me to join the show and share, all I could do was pray.  I've been praying all week.  I've been praying my little heart out that the right women, the women who needed most to hear this message, would be listening.  And I know just from some emails I've gotten today that several did.  And I am so incredibly encouraged and blessed by that.  

And while I do plan on writing a full recap of my interview and listing resources for anyone who visits my site and wants further support, tonight I just have one thing to say and I hope it resonates with you more than anything else you heard this morning.  It is what I needed most to hear three years ago.  And I want to share it tonight with you.  

To the momma out there who is struggling, I want to tell you one thing tonight: 

You did not make a mistake.

In this time and in this place, God made you a momma. 

Satan may try to convince you that you aren't good enough.

He will try to tell you that you weren't meant for this role.

I know this, because he had me convinced.  

But that is a line and a lie straight from the pit of hell.

So right here,  right now,  if you are reading this:

Hear my heart.  Hear God's heart.

Your baby?  Not a mistake.  You becoming a Mom?

Not a mistake. I can speak to this truth because I've been in your shoes.

You were made for this role.  You will be blessed by this role.  

Maybe you aren't feeling this now. Maybe you still won't tomorrow.  

But you will walk this road and someday you will look back 

and you will have the peace in your heart about motherhood 

that God always intended for you to have.

Thank you, thank you, thank you again for the great blessing of sharing with you today and each week through this blog. You have no idea what this has meant for me.

Love,

One Thousand Gifts

Last fall a friend lent me the book One Thousand Gifts.  Written by Ann Voskamp, her story is told from one who has experienced unimaginable suffering and yet has learned in spite of pain, to live a life of humble gratitude. I was excited to read this book.  I was eager to inhale her words and learn from her life.  And then as abruptly as I began my journey with Ann, I stopped.  I couldn't read her words. Her stories were intense, her experiences too much to bear.  I couldn't accept her challenge.  To live fully. To live with gratitude in spite of the small and huge burdens of this life.  Of my life.  Of the lives of those I love.

Pain is everywhere.  Suffering is all around us.  We wade in it and are swallowed by it every day.  It's on our television screens and our news stands.  It's across the world, when I hear stories from my own sister who is experiencing poverty and oppression in Africa and Asia.  It is here at home. I see it played out in the life of one of one of my old lady friends. Only, she isn't really old. She's a brilliantly smart 60-year-old woman.  She has her doctorate degree and was a college professor. But now she is battling mental health problems and has been committed to an assisted living home to rot away for the next 20 + years.  Her daughters have all but washed their hands of her.  She is lonely.  She has no control of her life anymore. She asks God,"Why me?" Wouldn't you? 

And then there's my really old friends.  The ones whose bodies are wasting away but their minds are still sharp.  They can't hold their bladders or their bowels.  They are embarrassed.  They are in physical pain.  Even the smallest of movements reminds them that their best years are gone.  They lug around oxygen tanks just to help them breathe.  When really, many of them just don't want to breathe anymore.  I hear them every single day ask the same questions.  "How did I get here? Why am I back to this place of feeling like a child?  Why?" 

I read it in the daily text messages from a friend, living so far away but whose pain is so close I can feel it within my own beating heart.  More bad news.  Still an empty nursery.  Arms just waiting to hold and rock.  Aching to be the mother she knows she is meant to be.  She hurts so deeply each time she has to congratulate a new friend.  She's angry most days.  Always sad.  Always feeling the pain of loss and of unmet dreams.  Always asking, "Why?"

There's Ann's story.  As a child, she watched her younger sister bleed to death in the arms of her parents. As an adult, she watched her brother and sister-in-law bury their two infant sons only months apart from one another.  Wouldn't you as a reader of her book ask, "Why?"

And then there's me. I've been a mess the last several months. I dress daily and I look down at my midriff.  Not growing.  Not safely protecting a new life.  By now I thought I would be rocking the belly band and the elastic waist maternity jeans.  Instead, I just feel empty.  My heart feels lifeless and my hand is often a clenched fist that pumps at God, asking, "Why? Why my baby? Why me?"

Natalie Grant's song "Held" says it well. "This hand is bitterness. We want to taste and let the hatred know our sorrows." And that's what I feel.  Bitterness. Pain. Loss. Frustration at the dreams that haven't come true. And if I have to be bluntly honest, I feel entitled to them all. Why shouldn't I be angry? Why shouldn't I be bitter? Because of my lost dreams. The ones I thought I was promised.  If I let go of them, who will know the pain and the hurt I feel?  Who will pay for it all?

A few weeks back I had a piece of writing published called "Perfectly Imperfect".  In it I made the statement, "I've often wondered to myself why suffering has to be debilitating. Can it not be something bigger than causing us to stop dead in our tracks, refusing to move forward?" I wrote this piece in hindsight of my journey with PPD but before I lost our baby.  I made this statement when life was good.  When I was living on the mountaintop. But what does it look like to really live out these words?  What does living fully and well look like in the midst of pain and tragedy?  What does it look like when in all honestly, some days I haven't wanted to get out of bed in the morning?  When I have cried myself to sleep more nights than I can count?  When I am moving begrudgingly through the valley?  

So this week, knowing that my words were being put to the test, I picked Ann's book back up.  I knew it was finally time to take my journey with her.  In my gut, I knew I was ready to listen this time.  I began to read One Thousand Gifts and to journal and soak up every God inspired line.  

And so far, this is what I have found:

All sin can be traced back to the fall.  This I knew.

Satan, wanted more.  He wanted more. He wanted more power and more glory.  

Satan was an ingrate and he sank his teeth right into the heart of Eden.  

Adam and Eve's fall was a direct result of ingratitude.  

Ingratitude.  

They weren't satisfied with the lot God had given them.  

They believed Satan when he told them God's provision wasn't enough.

Ann writes, "Our fall was, has always been, and always will be, that we aren't satisfied with God and what He gives.  We hunger for something more, something other."

She goes on to write, "We eat. And in an instant we are blind. No longer do we see God as one we can trust.  No longer do we perceive Him as wholly good.  We eat. And in an instant, we see.  Everywhere we look we see a world of lack, a universe of loss, a cosmos of scarcity and injustice." 

And isn't that where we are?  Isn't that everything I just described?  My sister's calls from third world countries.  My sweet old friends locked away in a place of no control. Empty cradles. Death. Sorrow and loss.  Everywhere.  And then we blame our circumstances.  We blame God.  Because we don't know who else to blame.  Anyone but ourselves.

So the question becomes: Is wrong to mourn and to suffer?  If we are the ultimate cause of our own downfall? It can't be. Jesus suffered.  Jesus himself cried at death.  Then is our reaction to mourning and suffering the problem?

Ingratitude.  It was the cause of the fall.  So maybe that's how we find our way back?  We go back to the source?  We go back to gratitude.  Like Christ did.

Jesus, mourning and crying over the death of Lazarus, stood outside of his tomb and prayed "Father I thank You that You have heard me." (John 11:41)

"On the night when he was betrayed, the Lord Jesus took some bread and gave thanks to God for it" (1 Corinthians 11:23-24).  On the eve of God's abandonment to him, Jesus gave thanks.

After preaching to country after country only to receive rejection, Jesus prays, "Oh Father, Lord of heaven and Earth, I thank thee." (Matthew 11:25)

So I've been asking myself this week.  Could I live like that?  Could I open my clenched fists? Could I give up this resentment I feel entitled to and replace it with a heart of constant gratitude?  To trust that which I don't see?  To thank God in the mist of failure and suffering just like Christ did?  Could I return to Eden?  The place that once was, before ingratitude pierced through the perfection?

I'll be blunt again.  I've been fighting this.  Every fiber of my being wants to hang on to the resentment and the pain and the anguish that I feel entitled to.  I don't want to give thanks.  I want to suffer and feel sorry for myself and hold on to my hurts and all of my "what could have beens..."  

But I'm not going to.  And I'm asking you not to either.  If you have stuck with me for this long, I'm asking you to take this challenge with me.  Let's see where it will take us.  Read this book with me.  Buy the book.  Borrow it.  Highlight through it.  Journal as you read it. 

Experience something new with me.  Let's start our list together. List the gifts of your daily life. List them on the good days and list them on the hardest days.  Let's just try this and see where it takes us. Let's list our gifts and go on a search for gratitude like Christ demonstrated so clearly to us.  Like Ann did in her book.  Maybe that's what's been missing?  Maybe we really just need to return back to Eden, the place God gave us before ingratitude took hold.  Today, I begin my list.  Today, I am choosing to find joy and thankfulness in the midst of my pain.  Will you join me?

Today's Gifts:

1. Summer nights spent with new and old friends
2. Six wonderful years of learning to love my husband
3. Hardwood floors that lay hold to tiny bare feet
4. Blue cookie monster cupcakes with googly eyes
5. Naps
6. Yarn for the cat to chase
7. The bubbly sounds of fresh brewed coffee
8. A good sale
9. Dental Insurance
10. A warm rainfall pitter pattering on the roof

Love, 

Today You Are Three!

Dear Mackenzie Leigh,
Today you are three.  I can hardly believe it as I sit here and type these words.  Three.  Three?  Really?  Has it already been three years since I held you, my bundled burrito baby, in that city hospital room overlooking our world below?  I remember how tiny you looked, barely filling out those red piggy pajamas I waited so long to dress you in.  I remember your wispy blonde mullet and how you kept yanking off those ugly hospital caps the nurses kept stuffing onto your head.  Even then you knew what you wanted.  I still struggle with memories of bringing you home from the hospital and of being so scared because I didn't know what to do or how to care for you.  I felt so unprepared to raise this little life we had created.  I remember thinking we would never get past those days.  And yet somehow, we've made it here. We've made it to today.  And today, I can hardly look at you without crying happy tears.  Without thinking of the incredible girl you are.  Never in my wildest, craziest dreams, could I have imagined you as you are today.  

Here are my prayers for this coming year for you:  


I pray that your tender heart continues to develop.  You've got such a sensitivity in you and I've seen it from just six months old.  The way you can look deep into the eyes of someone who is hurting and feel that pain with them.  It really is amazing to me to see how God has already given you the gift of compassion.  This year, I am going to pray specifically that God will continue to bring that beautiful heart of compassion to its full purpose.


I pray that with that tender compassion for others, your heart will not be broken.  Because you are so sensitive, I worry that it will allow for too much pain.  And I want you to stay innocent for as long as you possibly can.  This world is filled with too much bad.  And I hope that your tender heart won't show you too much of that bad too soon.  


I pray that you will continue to learn discipline. I pray that you won't be embittered towards discipline.  That you will know see the love that is behind it and how God uses discipline to teach you and others how to live life well.  I pray that God will develop a heart that sincerely want to do right for yourself and for Him.


I pray that you will learn and know that it is okay to make mistakes.  I pray that even from this young age, God will  begin to teach you about grace and the need to have grace for yourself and for others.  I want this so much for you.


I pray that you will have fun.  I see an old soul in you already.  I see that you want to grow up quickly and fast.  I see it in you because you are an only child and because you just want to be a part of the adult conversations. But you are still a baby.  You are my baby.  And I pray that you will know that it is okay to have fun and be silly.  To have dance parties in the middle of the day.  To sing at the top of your lungs when you are happy.  To run through the sprinklers on days that it is so scorching hot and to jump in the leaves this fall when we rake them into big piles in the back yard.  I pray that you will do these things without inhibition.  Without hesitation or worry of you how you look.  I pray that you will grow up slow and have fun every single minute of while you are doing that growing.  


Most of all, this year, I pray that you will know how unbelievably loved you are.  That in the deepest parts of your being, you are certain without a shadow of a doubt, that you are loved. I love you.  Your daddy loves you.  Your ornery kitty even loves you.  Your papas and your grandmas love you.  Your uncle and your aunties love you.  You've got friends who love you. But most of all, God loves you.  He loves you with a love that never wavers.  A love that is stronger than all of the human love combined.  And this year, more than anything, I hope you feel and know this.  

Happy third birthday my sweet girl.  
Love, Momma

Loving & Losing

I’m finding it very difficult to write the words I am feeling tonight.  I’m doing it though because I know that this pain will never be as fresh and as raw as it is now.  I’ve been very open in the past several months about sharing my struggles with other women.   I don’t like the thought of walking alone through my struggles, and I just as equally don’t want other women walking alone.  I don’t believe that God intended us to privately suffer through life’s hardships.  And so, even though this in itself is a very private struggle, I’m going to look for the words to share and to express my heart tonight because I believe other women might need to hear it. 

After Mackenzie was born, I said I was done having babies.  I swore I was done.  The idea of bringing another baby home after having postpartum depression the first time just seemed foolish.  I had one beautiful little girl and that seemed like it could be enough. But in my gut, I never felt like our family was complete.  This past winter I really began to go back and forth about having another baby.  And when I say I went back and forth, I mean I wrestled.  Hard.  Some nights I didn’t sleep.  Some days I cried over the decision.  A close friend advised me to give the decision over to the Lord.  So I did.  I began to pray.  I prayed he would give me the desire for more children.  Some days I prayed that He would intervene and give us a “surprise” baby so that the decision would be less of my own and completely a “God thing”.

This spring, a reoccurring theme seemed to begin playing out in our lives.  The theme revolved around fear and letting fear control us.  As a couple, we decided that ultimately, it was fear that was keeping us from choosing to expand our family.  And we decided that God did not design us to live in fear. 

And now, it’s summer. And while I would love to share with you the news that we are pregnant and expecting our second baby, I can’t.  I do however, have several positive pregnancy tests lined up on our dresser and a stack of pregnancy books nearby.  And each of them I want to burn.  Or hurl into the nearest lake.  This past week we experienced one of the most gut wrenching and painful things to go through.  We lost our sweet second baby.  To say we are heartbroken would be an understatement. 

 

There are many things that keep running through my head.  Feeling sorry for myself tops the list.  I’m working on moving past that one.  And, as you can tell by the, “hurling my pregnancy books in the lake” comment, I’m definitely moving right along into the angry camp. 

But most of all, I’m just so incredibly sad.  I am grieving the loss of a life that will never be lived. I am grieving for the son my husband will never get to play basketball with.  I am grieving a daughter I will never get to read bedtime stories to or snuggle and kiss goodnight.  I’m grieving for the little brother or sister that Mackenzie prayed for every night as she wrapped her little arms around my belly and gave kisses.

Practically speaking, I know that miscarriages happen.  They happen fairly often and they happen for a reason. I know that this isn’t an experience I am going through alone.  But emotionally speaking, this is just so incredibly hard.  We envisioned a life with this child.  We were planning for a future as a family of four.  We already had names picked out and were mentally rearranging our furniture to make room for this new life.  We were ready for this baby. 

It is a little bit ironic to me, to look back on the journey I have been on as a mother.  After Mackenzie was born I went through a big identity crisis.  I struggled with knowing exactly what my new role in life was.  Was I now “just” a mother?  Could I still be a runner?  Could I still go out with friends and enjoy life even though there was a little person at home depending on me?  Eventually I came to a place of realizing that my identity was not lost but just expanded.  I gained a part of my identity when my daughter was born.  I write all of this to say that that moment I conceived this second baby, my identity expanded even more.  I am not just the mother of Mackenzie.  Now I am a mother of two children.  One of whom I have the privilege of raising here on earth, the other, I believe is waiting for me in the arms of Jesus.  For whatever reason, God chose to bring that baby home to Him.  And it is painful.  This pain I feel, this longing for that baby, is so great and cuts so deep to my heart. And yet, I know that eventually I will be okay.  Not today. Probably not for a long time.  But eventually, I will be okay.

This week was hard.  Probably the hardest week we've had as a family.  And yet, it was a week of bonding.  A week of praying and cuddling and crying.  A week of saying goodbye.

I'm not really sure where we go from here. I can say that fear has once again crept back into the realm of defining my thoughts and future plans.  The idea of trying for another baby and possibly losing that baby too just seems like it would be too much to handle.  And yet, I was reminded today by a friend that ultimately we must choose whether taking certain risks in life are worth it.  If we want to expand our family we are going to have to take that risk.  I believe the risk would be worth it to expand my identity even more.  To become a momma to a third baby would be such a privilege and a risk worth taking.  And someday down the road, I hope to be able to share that happy news with all of our friends and family.