On This Side Of Heaven

This morning at MOPS we honored the memories of two baby boys who were born to mommas in our group. One little guy was a second trimester baby who was delivered stillborn.  The other baby boy lived for 54 minutes.  We cried and prayed over our fellow mommas as we listened to each of their journeys through loss and grief and their renewal of hope. 

 

Before leaving, our leaders asked all mommas in the room who have experienced the loss of a child to stand-- whether that be in utero or after birth.  I'll be completely honest, I really struggled with this request.

 

I didn't want to stand.  I wanted to stay seated and not draw attention to myself or to my story.

 

In that moment, I was taken back to my follow up appointment about four weeks after our miscarriage.  I was sitting on that white, crinkly paper in the exam room, feeling exposed in that ugly gown they force you to put on.  My nurse threw out the words "chemical pregnancy" and dismissed my loss as if it were just a head cold that had come and gone. 

 

A chemical pregnancy.  What did that even mean? 

 

I left my doctor's office that day with tears streaming down my face. 

 

To be quite honest, I felt betrayed.

 

Betrayed by my own self. Betrayed by the positive pregnancy test that was sitting tucked away at home in my jewelry box and by the joy that I had in those first few weeks.

 

 

I felt embarrassed for grieving.  It sounded like a "chemical pregnancy" was as close to a "false positive" as they come.  What business did I have in calling it a "loss" while most of the world would  just link my pregnancy to a definition found somewhere in the back of a dusty, medical text book?

 

This morning after coming home, I put Levi down for his nap and I opened my computer to find a blog post written by an old college friend.  My heart was still very heavy and I had the memory of my miscarriage on my mind.

 

In his post, Josh shares of his own grief after the loss of their baby.  He poses the question, "Did my baby go to heaven?"

 

I have often silently asked this question over the past few years.

 

Did my baby go to heaven? 

 

Was there enough of my baby formed to even be considered a baby?

 

What about God?  Did He consider my baby a life?

 

"Your eyes saw my unformed body, in your book were written,

every one of them, the days that were formed for me,

when as yet there was none of them. (Psalm 139: 16). 

 

God saw the unformed body of our sweet baby long before I would know of her existence.

 

God knew that we would never have more than a pregnancy test to honor her little life. 

 

 He knew that we would not experience the joy of the sound of a fluttering heart beat or those first little kicks. 

 

I would not labor with my husband by my side to at last hold our little girl and breathe in her sweet scent like I did with Mackenzie and Levi. 

 

None of those things would happen on this side of heaven.

 

But she was known. And for a short time she was given life and she was created out of the Father's love for me.

 

And I have to believe that He does not make mistakes.  That nothing He creates is whimsical or without a purpose. 

 

We named our sweet baby Finley Sky. 

 

Finley is Irish meaning "Fair headed hero" and if you've seen our other babies then I'm sure you understand why the fair headed part makes sense. 

 

Somewhere right now way up in the sky, looking down on our little family is our sweet baby Finley.  Our second baby.  The baby that Mackenzie still talks about and the one we will someday share with Levi and any other brothers or sisters they might have. 

 

For three nights after our miscarriage, the Colorado sky was lit up with some of the most breathtaking sunsets we've every experienced.  To this day Mackenzie still looks at the sun setting in the coming night sky and says, "Mom, look!  Finley is watching over us!"

We are reminded of her little life with every sunset we see.  We are reminded of her on hard days like today when we grieve with other parents who have also lost children.  We are reminded of her each time we look at Mackenzie and Levi and we know there is one little life between them missing.

 

 

Finley Sky is not a statistic or just a scribble on one of my medical charts. 
 

Our daughter's life might not be recognized here on this side of heaven but she will always be a part of us and a part of our family's story
and I do believe that her life is part of God's greater story for us in eternity.

Dig Deep

This morning I stood in the silence of my kitchen and just stared out the window.  I breathed deeply as if to inhale and freeze time in the rarity of the moment I was in. 

It was one of those moments as a momma, where you're afraid to open the cupboard to reach for your coffee mug because you just know that little ears are listening and ready to creep out of bed and jump start your day with giggles and fits and crushed cheerios, flung oatmeal and art projects. 

The beautiful and the messy. 

But I wasn't quite ready for those moments to start.  I just wanted some time to reflect on where I've been and where I'm going.

I'm finding that some of my days lately just come easy.  I climb out of bed and deep down in my soul I feel good.  Like I'm ready to take on all of my responsibilities as a wife and a momma and just own them. I've got all the energy I need, all of the will power and stamina to face the grocery store temper tantrums in the gummy bear aisle. 

And then there are some days--some weeks even--where I just feel disheartened and I just can't seem to find the power to dig deep. Like last week when the sewage in the basement was leaking and the car broke down in the grocery store parking lot and one baby was throwing up. 

Mommas, those days are hard. 

Those are the days when I just want to stay in bed, pull the covers over my head and selfishly say, "no" to all of what's being asked of me. 

Maybe you're there too this week.

A friend recently said to me that this is the time when we as mommas are to be the roots for our family.  We are to grow our roots so deep and strong so as to create a place of strength and stability for our kids and our husband. 

So maybe these are the hard days.  The hardest days.  The days when the car needs towing and the raw sewage in the basement makes the kid's play area smell like....well, you know. 

But these are the good days.  These are the days we grow our roots deep.  We dig deep.  We find strength we didn't know we had. 

These are the days that we prove to ourselves that the crushed cheerios underneath our bare feet won't actually kill us.  That one more restless night of sleep from a sick baby with an ear infection isn't going to do us in (even though it feels it in the moment). 

These are the days we learn to trust that God really does see us-- even in our spit up, sticky fingered, diaper changin' glory.  Because that's totally where I am. 

Praying truth over myself and over my purpose as a momma in this time and in this place.

We take these moments and we dig deep and we teach our babies what it means to be really strong and to persevere and to find joy even in the most mundane places of life. We teach them how to dig deep-- on their own hard days.  We are teaching them, and ourselves, how to be strong and to hang on for those times in life when the bigger hard stuff comes. 

 

So dig deep mommas. 

You've got this.

Plant those roots and be encouraged. 

These moments matter. 

These days-- even the hardest days-- they matter. 

You matter. 

A Letter to My Babies on Resurrection Sunday

Dear Mackenzie & Levi,

 

This morning when you climbed out of bed, daddy and I led you both on a hunt for special clues.  You ran from room to room squealing and laughing. At the end of our hunt you found your Easter baskets with bunnies!  Real, live, squishy, cuddly bunnies!  We couldn’t wait to see your faces when you met your new friends!  We are so excited for our family to create memories with our bunnies—we’ve been told we can teach Piper and Sawyer tricks and that they will have special little personalities just like you each have.  How fun is that!? 

But here’s the thing, my sweet babies, I struggled with whether or not we should actually get you bunnies.  Because I didn’t want to confuse you about why we celebrate this day.  Bunnies are wonderful and sweet and special.  But today is special for more reasons than just our new friends. 

Today is special because we celebrate the promise that God made to us when Jesus conquered death. Let me explain to you a little more about what that means. 

Daddy and I talk to you all the time about how broken our world is.  We tell you the story about how Adam and Eve invited bad things into a perfect world when they chose to disobey God. 

We see the effects of that sin every day around us. 

You see it when we’re driving and we pass a car accident with people who are hurt and headed for the hospital.  You feel it when you are running at the playground and you fall and scrape your knees. You hear about it on the radio when they tell us that kids in other countries like Africa don’t have clean water to drink.  You experience the effects of sin in our own home when mommy and daddy argue or when mommy sometimes burns the pancakes. 

God never intended for any of these things to happen (especially not the burned pancakes). But Adam and Eve made a wrong choice. Because of that choice, sin was passed down to us. We make bad choices and we sin daily.  And so does every other person around us.  Because of this, we live in a world filled with bad things.

For a long, long time, it was very hard for mommy to understand why such a loving God would allow all of the bad in the world to happen.  And I know this might be hard for you to understand too, which is why I’m writing to you.  But over the past year, Mommy has started to see the bigger picture.  Mommy has started to see God for how truly amazing He is.

One way we could think of it is like a story.  And in this story there is a good side and a bad side.  God is the good and Satan is the bad.  And while we are here living on earth, Satan would like nothing more than to make us think that God is not for us.  That God is the bad guy and that He has abandoned us. 

But He is for us my sweet babies.  And that’s where Jesus comes in.  God knew that sin was separating us from having a relationship with Him.  So he sent Jesus to take the consequences of our sins.  Jesus, God’s son, died for both of you so that you could be on God’s side.  The good side. 

And here’s the part that momma really loves. And it is why today, Resurrection Day is so important. 

Jesus did something absolutely amazing.  After he was beaten and killed, after He died on the cross for our bad choices, He came back to life! 

Jesus defeated death!  Death could not keep Him from us!  

Our sins were not too great for Him!

That’s the part I really love-- That there isn’t a bad thing in this world that is too great for Jesus!

Jesus promised that someday He is going to return for us.  But He also said that while we are living on earth waiting for Him, that we will experience some very tough things.  Things like the car accident I mentioned earlier and pain from your skinned knees. 

But something I want you to know, something I’m just now learning—is that we don’t have to live in fear!  God is so much bigger than all of the bad in this world.  He has covered it ALL.  He has freed us from our own sin and He has given us freedom from being afraid! 

And someday, although we don’t know exactly when, God is going to give Satan that giant spanking we talk about and then he really won’t have any more power over our world.

Until then, we will continue to live trusting that God has good things in store for us—that he has given us beauty even in a world where there are bad things. 

There is so much beauty.  I see beauty every day when I look at the two of you.  When I watch you run through the house holding hands and I hear you giggling together. 

 

When we sing “You Are My Sunshine” and whisper “I love yous” to each other in the dark while rocking in our comfy gray chair.

 

We will look together for signs of God’s grace and His goodness in our world. 

 

This summer we will watch new life spring up from our garden and we will taste the juicy fruit of strawberries in our pink lemonade. We will picnic by the lake and feed the geese and watch the sun set on another day.  We will watch our bunnies grow!

All of these will be reminders to us of God’s goodness, of His faithfulness to us and of the gift He gave us through Jesus.

Mackenzie and Levi, my prayer is that throughout your lives, you will have an overwhelming sense that God is doing something bigger and more powerful than you can comprehend.  That you will know that we are part of His story.  His story of love and healing for our world.

If I could pray one thing over you my sweet babies, it would be that you would always know that God is for you in this story.  That His heart is for you and that His love has paid and conquered it ALL.

You are SO loved,

Momma

Throw Back Thursday- Puzzle Pieces

Happy Thursday Mommas!  I've gotten quite a few new Facebook followers since yesterday largely in thanks to my husband and some wonderful friends "sharing" my page!  I thought I would throw it all the way back to my very first writing piece today.  Some of you may have read it and for some of you it might be brand new.

I wrote "Puzzle Pieces" about 5 years ago when Mackenzie was itty bitty and I was knee deep in postpartum depression.  It's both painful and so healing for me to re-read this piece now.  I've come so far but it's difficult to revisit a place that I know was so painful for me at one time. It's a reminder of God's faithfulness and His incredible story of redemption on my journey of motherhood. 

I hope today it will be healing for some of you who might be walking a tough road.  You are loved momma!

Puzzle Pieces

This is a long one guys… if you make it through this whole thing then you deserve extra dessert tonight…or extra of whatever it is you love best in life ;).

 

If I’ve talked to you much at all over the past two and a half months then you’ve probably heard me say that I have wondered (on quite a few melt-down occasions) why I didn’t wait another five years to have this baby.  To some this may seem like a horrible statement— one that no mother should ever allow to come out of her mouth. But hold back your judgment when I say there were several weeks and even many single moments in which I have thought—would I have been more prepared to do this in say— 5, 10, maybe even 15 years?  After completing a masters degree? after working longer?  When my husband and I own a home?  After traveling more?  After more time with my husband? When I’m more emotionally ready? Wait…why the hell did I do this again?

A friend even told me that I was advised to wait. Which, after thinking about for weeks I have still concluded that this was never the case.  People love babies. Period. My people love babies. Grandparents encourage them and wait for the day they can hold their first grandchild, sisters send cards stating “ps: have a baby soon…and have fun making one”, friends and family throw incredible, celebratory showers. And all people coo and ahh over the sleepy, little grins and small, delicate fingers once baby has finally arrived.  Babies are wanted and encouraged.  My baby was wanted and encouraged.  But never in my wildest dreams did I realize how hard of an adjustment this would be on me.  Never did I ever stop to think that maybe I might wish my old life back. 

Well, if you have read the above and are now thinking of me as a horrible, unfit mother, please know that I absolutely love and adore my daughter.  She is incredible… Every grin and every smile makes me happier.  Every cry and every tear makes me come running.  She is the puzzle piece of my heart I didn’t know was missing. 

 

And so, after weeks of thinking, praying, talking, rationalizing, thinking and talking some more—I have concluded that there would never actually have been a “convenient” time to bring this baby into my world.  In 5, 10, 15+ years I would still be dealing with the same losses that I am today.  Because in a very huge sense— all new parents go through a period of mourning.  You have lost something.  You have lost the independence that you once had.  In return you have gained a new life…but for many moments the loss you have incurred can become very overwhelming. In 5+ years the selfish parts of me would still be missing my “me” time.  I would still be missing the conveniences of being able to go and do as I pleased without a little “mini me” to tag along.  I would still be attached to my secure bank account, the uninterrupted alone time I once had with my husband.  All of these things would still be losses I would have to work through had I waited longer for this baby. 

About 3 weeks into this new adventure, on one very early morning, I sat with my husband on our couch, steaming coffee in hand and a beautiful sunrise coming up in the distance, shining atop of the buildings and outlining our city.  After a rough night, our baby was finally sleeping in my arms and Vega4 was playing ”Life Is Beautiful”.  It was a moment. One of those absolutely perfect moments that I know will stick with me for the rest of my life.  My husband said to me as we sat there, “You know what is always so good about the rough points in life?  New days always come.  With every time in our life, every period or day that has been a struggle, the sun always rises and a new day always begins.  There is always joy that can come from a new day.” 

 

And so…where am I going with all of this?  Why am I writing this?  I’ve actually been writing this for months.  Since the month I brought my baby home.  I knew after the first week that I would have to write this eventually.  The thoughts and feelings I began having would at some point have to come full circle.  And I am posting this now because they have.

 

I write this because I want to be honest. This period in my life has been painful. It has been rocky.  But yet… it has been beautiful.  It has allowed for some soul searching. It has been one of the hardest things I have ever done.  I have become more broken because of this experience.  I have had to begin learning what it means to have an identity that is wrapped up in someone else as well as how to have an identity that is only mine. I am not just a mother but yet I am someone’s mother. I am still me— the girl who loves to run, the one who thinks road trips were invented for her.  I still love a big bowl of mac and cheese and a good hour of childhood tv re-runs. I’m still the girl who dreams of becoming a singer and hides a stack of handwritten songs in a dusty guitar case in the hopes of someday playing a show. I have not lost my identity— I have just gained part of it.  And the things that I have lost— the extra time, the freedoms I once had at my luxury.  Those things weren’t really all that important.  They were self indulgences that I have had to learn—were just that. The new important things are the smiles, the giggles, the hugs, the new traditions and the memories we are creating together as a family.

And so, I am writing this because I believe all new (and future) new moms need to know this.  All women need to know this. Because I didn’t know this.  No one really tells you that it might be this tough.  I am writing this because I want my daughter to read this someday and know that as a new mom—she can and will feel as I have.  I want her to know that life is beautiful no matter what is thrown her way.  That each new experience is a chance for growth and a way to add beauty to her life.  I want her to know that when she holds her baby for the very first time—her identity is not gone but it has expanded. I want her to know that there will always be the Vega4 moments that will just reach into her heart and shake her into new reality. 

Today I Choose...

This morning I poured dog food in the water bowl and posted a blog wishing everyone a "Happy Monday!".  

 

Good heavens, are any other mommas out there running on fumes like I clearly am? 

 

For the past three weeks I've been fighting a cold that just will not take a hike, all while trying desperately to be a good wife and momma and finish out my marathon training. I'll be completely honest, lately I've just been happy to have made it to the end of the day with everyone alive.

 

But I don't enjoy this type of living-- if we can really even call it that.  I'm sure we all go through seasons of life where we feel like we're just surviving and there's absolutely no thriving. 

 

The other day Jeremy passed me his Bible and said, "Read this."  My husband has a connection with God that just blows my mind.  So when he tells me that the Lord is speaking to me I usually try to listen. 

 

"I saw that all labor and all skillful work is due to a man's jealousy of his friend. 

This too is futile and a pursuit of the wind. 

The fool folds his arms and consumes his own flesh. 

Better one handful with rest than two handfuls with effort and a pursuit of the wind."  Ecclesiastes 4:4-6

 

I had to re-read that passage over and over and over.  It floored me. 

 

God was giving me permission to rest. 

To let go of my pride-- because let's just call it what it is. 

 

It is pride when I have a "to do" list and it's largely out of a desire to look and feel like I have life put together.  With a healthy meal on the table and a clean house and an instagram feed filled with my kids doing the latest holiday Pinterest craft.  

 

To just rest and be content with what I can do today.

 

God doesn't care if our dishes are done or if our floors are vacuumed of all of our day's pelted food. 

 

God doesn't want us on empty mommas.  And I know that is SO hard to grasp. 

 

I can't tell how many nights, I'm at my grumpiest with the kids at bedtime.  I growl at them when they beg for just, "One more book mommy!"  And I snap at them to brush their teeth faster.  And then I sink onto the couch and just breathe out a day's worth of exhaustion once that bedroom door of sleepy children if finally closed. 

 

So here's some encouragement today for you if you need it.  From one momma to another. 

 

From God's heart to your heart.

 

Go rip up that "to do" list. 

 

Okay, well maybe don't rip it up.  Just grip it a lot less tightly.  I know some of you Emily Ley types just thrive on structure ;)

 

Really though, what makes your heart come alive?

 

What brings your heart, your soul and your body true rest? 

 

What can you do for yourself and your family that will bring life today?  What expectations of yourself can you let go of that will ultimately fill you up?

 

If having a sink empty of dishes makes you come alive then by all means-- stick a movie on for your babies and get those dishes done. 

 

But if watching that movie and snuggling with your babies is what really makes you come alive-- what really gives you rest-- then go do that.   Let those dishes sit. 

 

Is having a cup of coffee in hand and a good book at nap time really what makes you come alive-- what really gives you rest? 

 

Or is tackling that mound of laundry because you feel like it just has to be done? 

 

You choose-- but make it a wise choice. Because your heart and the heart of those closest to you are what's at stake. 

 

"Better one handful with rest than two handfuls with effort and a pursuit of the wind."

 

Isn't it better that we learn to live our lives with less accomplished, less done, less envied and desired so that ultimately we have the energy to keep up with our babies, to really pursue their hearts and to engage them? 

 

To really pursue the heart of the man you love?  I bet he'll care less about the crossed off "to do" list at the end of the day if when he walks in the door he finds a wife and momma who is well rested, content and filled up. 

 

I'll be honest-- This is not the place I've been lately. 

This is not how I've been operating. 

 

So today and this week, I'm choosing to rest.  I'm choosing to do less and to be less.  And my prayer is that by choosing this "lesser" option-- that ultimately I'm choosing more.  Who else is with me?

 

Revisiting A Teaching Moment

 

It's been a little quiet around here lately.  I'm finding that in changing seasons of motherhood and during periods of my life where God is doing intense work in my heart, it's harder for me to process and write.  In the meantime, I hope this past blog post of mine will be an encouragement to some of you mommas today. 

Little Hearts

 

I'm learning that my daughter is a human sponge.  She's watching my every move. Taking in every word that my husband and I say and she's imprinting those words on her heart.

Each night before climbing into bed, we sneak into Mackenzie's room and we pray over her.  And each night before I leave, I whisper into her ear, "You are the best thing that ever happened to me.  Don't forget that".  And then I melt when she climbs into my lap the next morning and whispers, "You know you're the best momma that ever happened to me?"  Literally, some days I am floored that a seemingly sleeping child is hearing my words and that they mean something to her.

And several times a week I smile as I hear my husband ask Mackenzie from somewhere in the next room, "You know you are loved?"  So it shouldn't come as a surprise to me when, while she and I are out grocery shopping, her hand slipped tightly into mine, she looks up at me in the produce aisle and she sweetly says, "Momma?  You know you are loved?"

Because she's a sponge.  She's hearing our words and she's taking them in and they mean something to her.

But just as our positive words are being soaked up, I am reminded daily that, so are our negative words. Last year I was introduced to fellow blogger Jen Bucker.  She is a beautiful mother of two and is an amazing writer.  She has an incredible gift and I hope you will discover her like I have.  While reading one of her posts a while back, she wrote a line that I have not forgotten and it replays in my mind almost daily.

Jen wrote, "Little hearts should not be broken by little things."

Sounds simple enough.  But is it really?

 

How often do we get overwhelmed by the constant barraging of questions from our babies?  "Mommy, can you help me with..." or "Momma, I went potty in my pants..." Or maybe your baby is so small that he or she hasn't even formulated words yet.  Maybe you hear grunts and whining, accompanied by constant pointing to objects.  And you just want to pull your hair out by the end of the day.

Sometimes, I just cringe at the sound of the word.  "Momma."   And, I just want a break from the responsibility that comes tagged to it.  Like, maybe if I pretend that the shrill sound of my title being shrieked from the next room isn't actually for me....then maybe, (just maybe) I won't have to come to its every beckoning?

How often do we trip over the dress up clothes or stub our toes on the tricycle that is lying out in the middle of the floor?  How often do we hear the sound of a plate clanking from the dining room table and then we wait, shoulders tense and holding our breaths, just knowing that we're about to hear the words, "Uh oh, I spilled...."  And then we're inevitably on our hands and knees picking up stray pieces of macaroni and scrubbing cheese off of the walls.  Huffing and puffing and thinking, "I don't deserve this."

And some days I just snap.  I holler and I yell.   I mutter under my breath, just loud enough for her to hear my frustrations.  I make her smaller than she already is.  I belittle her and I let her know she is an annoyance to me.  And it shows all over her face.  Her already big, blue eyes get even wider and more round and I can just see that something has changed by the way her lips twitch.  For a small second, I am no longer "the best momma that ever happened to me." I've become someone she is afraid of.

And it is then that, in the back of my mind I remember, Little hearts should not be broken by little things.  Sometimes I find myself whispering it deliberately under my breath.  "Little hearts should not be broken by little things. Little hearts should not be broken by little things...." 

And the truth is, maybe that one moment won't actually make a lasting impression on my daughter.  Maybe she will skip off and continue her playtime of princesses and treasure maps. And soon she will have forgotten that mommy was ever upset.  Maybe.

But a friend recently pointed out to me, that we never know the exact point or moment in our child's life when he or she begins to formulate memories.  And what do I really want those memories to be of?  The ones where she is made to feel embarrassed and belittled for simply being a kid?  I hope and pray that those aren't the memories she's making each day.

 When I think ahead to the kind of future that I want for my children, I know in my heart that it isn't always going to meet up to my ideal.  One day, my daughter is going to come home from school and she'll be fighting back tears and feeling like she's worth nothing.  Some mean girl will have made a snide comment or a certain boy will have told her she's not pretty enough.  And those days will break my heart as much as they will hers.

But here's what I do hope for on those inevitable days. Rather than my words for her as a baby and as a child, enforcing those feelings of unworthiness as a teenager-- I hope that she will come back to the words we whispered to her in the dark of night while she was sleeping. The words she hears now while she is wearing her princess crown and dancing merrily around our little home.

That, when the mean girl tells her she isn't "cool enough", she'll remember, I am the best thing that ever happened to my momma.  That when the boy she's so desperately seeking a kind word from, isn't giving her the time of day-- she'll remember my husband's words, "You know you are loved?" I hope and pray that our words- of positive affirmation and of love and security, are the words that speak the loudest to her on those terrible days.

Little hearts should not be broken by little things.  Today was a bad day.  I lost my temper this afternoon.  Mackenzie missed her nap and I snapped at all of the little annoyances of my day.  She went to bed crying.  I could be so angry at myself.  And part of me is.  But tonight, I climbed into her little white bed. I pulled her close to me and I whispered, "I'm sorry."  And she whispered right back, "It's okay momma. I love you".

 And I think it is those moments that matter the most.  The willingness as a mother to admit when I've been wrong.  The humility to let my little girl know that even her momma sometimes loses her temper.  And tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow I will make new choices and I will repeat again those words, little hearts should not be broken by little things.  Little hearts should not be broken by little things.  Repeat.

 

So Long Winter Blues...

Last Wednesday Mackenzie woke up in a fit of tears.  While wailing (literally) at the breakfast table we discovered that the tears were because it was "only Wednesday" and "not Friday yet".  It was during this effort to diffuse her tears and quiet her little soul that I discovered the meaning of the term "Hump Day".  Now you might laugh-- but in all of my time on social media, I've never quite understood the meaning of Wednesday as "Hump Day". I have always assumed it was another internet attempt at some sort dirty innuendo.  Well, you learn something new every day. 

According to my husband, Wednesday is called "Hump Day" because it's that mid point in the week that serves as the "hump" that just seems to stop people dead in their weekly tracks.  The freshness of Monday has come and gone but the freedom of Friday seems still so far out of reach.  Well, there you have it.  Wednesday is Hump Day.  Today is Hump Day.  Are you feeling it? Whoo, I sure am. 

But I'm going to be completely honest.  I've been feeling it a lot lately.  And not just on Wednesdays.  I'm going to just put it out there and share that Winter is my Hump Day. 

Oh, Winter.  Seemingly endless, cold, snowy winter. 

Do you struggle with depression or feelings of depression in winter?  If you are a momma, I'm more than willing to bet that you probably do.  Heck, if you are a human, I'm willing to bet you probably do.  It's gotten so bad for me that I struggle to really look forward to the magic and the sentiments of the holidays.  Long about November 1st I start to dread the upcoming season and all of the cold bugs and stir craziness that I know is in store for the future coming months.  And right about now as we're nearing mid March, I'm on the verge of having a Lorelai Gilmore "break up"  melt down with snow.

Well, just take a look for yourself...

Yeah, snow.  We. Are. Through.  This momma is DONE.  Too bad I don't get much of a say in my version of this breakup.  I'm pretty sure that our final big snow fall last year came on Mother's Day which as I recall, ruined my plans for a sunny day of planting flowers. 

But in all seriousness, lets be practical!  How do you combat the winter blues?  How do you find joy when the snow has had you stuck inside for days, the kids are crabby and are actually refusing to watch tv (what!?), you've wiped your hundredth runny nose for the day and you've maxed out your play doh patience capacity for the entire season? What's a momma to do?

Here are some ways that I myself am learning to combat my winter blues...

Plan ahead.  I have got to go into my week with a plan.  Lately when I'm facing a new week that I know is going to be long and hard, the best thing I can do for myself is combat my feelings of depression and hopelessness by having activities and outings that I can look forward to on the calendar.  Whether it's coffee on Tuesday morning with a friends, baking cookies Thursday with Mackenzie or just having a plan of when I'm going to get my house work done.  I just need to know what I'm facing.  I need to know where I'm meeting that friend for coffee and I need to have the ingredients for cookies in my pantry and ready to go.  In case of a snow storm I don't want to be without those vital cookie ingredients. Come on mommas, you know how that happens... all it takes is to be missing the baking soda mid snow storm for your day to just unravel sometimes.  Am I right?

Coupled with planning ahead is to make sure that I'm in community with friends and family during my week.  I recently read in a book that Satan's greatest tactic for discouragement is to make us feel alone and isolated.  I could not agree more.  Some weeks all it takes is to know that I have a playdate on the calendar where I know I'll be filled up and encouraged by other momma friends to get me through that final push of my week.  Every other Thursday I know that I have MOPS to look forward to and some weeks that's just what I need to keep going.  Being in community is HUGE and I can not stress it enough.

Just as equally important as being in community is to make sure I've set aside alone time for myself.  I'm a fairly extroverted person but I will say that when I have overloaded my schedule and I find myself with no break to myself in sight...those are ironically the weeks I struggle the most.  Those are the weeks that I neglect spending time with the Lord, my dishes in the sink pile up faster than I can get to them and I'm usually fishing through a laundry pile of socks just praying to find a clean match because I haven't actually made time to throw a load in the washer yet.  Sometimes you just need to carve out some "down time" in your week so that you aren't getting so behind that it leads to depression.

Play lots of music. And dance.  Putting on some Frozen is all my kids need for a little afternoon pick me up. And just when I think I might go insane if I hear Let It Go one more time, I find myself singing along and smiling at the sweet little dance moves that Levi loves to break out. 

Long baths are my very best friend.  Not for me...for the kids.  Long baths for the kids are the best thing that have happened to me all winter. Throw in some bubbles and my kids could play for an hour in the tub.  This has proven to be a time when I can sit and relax with a cup of tea and whether they are healthy or sick this is a "go to" activity that my kids love.

Bake.  Did I mention we love cookies and we love the way they make the house smell?

Light some candles. Make the home feel cozy and a place you actually want to be. 

Come up with "theme" days. A few weeks back in an effort to spice up a cold day inside we planned a "Pirate & Princess Day".  The kids were absolutely thrilled!  We dressed up, planned a treasure hunt and ended our day with pirate booty and a pirate & princess family movie night.  When the winter days are seeming longer and longer you just have to really get creative in how you make things "fun".

And, when all else fails momma... end your day with chocolate & wine.  A few nights back I put the kids to bed and began to survey the damage around our house.  Everything was in shambles and I was really struggling for the motivation to do anything.  I was feeling incredibly discouraged and well, downright depressed. 

I ended up on the kitchen floor with a bag of chocolate and a glass of white wine.  The dishes eventually got done.  The toys were eventually picked up off the floor and the stepped on Chex Mix did eventually make it's way into the vacuum shoot.  But for a half hour I sat in peace on the kitchen floor and indulged as I day dreamed about the days of warmth that are coming....

I thought of planting flowers in the front yard and of the shrieks of laughter that accompany the joy of summer sprinklers as the kids run through them in their bright colored bathing suits. 

I thought of picnics on the lake and of those sun kissed tan babies spending hours outside in the sand box.

I could almost taste those sticky pop sickles that run down their chubby cheeks and arms.

Spring is coming. 

Summer is coming. 

Warmth and open windows and birds chirping. Green grass and new life.  It's all coming. 

It won't be long until we can all start to hum that sweet Beatles song...
"Little Darlin', it's been a long, cold, lonely winter...Here comes the sun, doo do doo do..."

Lorelai Gilmore, I'm right there with you. 

But it's only fifteen more days momma until the calendar reads Spring. Glorious, wonderful spring. 

And then it's just a sprint to the finish line. I can make it.  We can make it. We are going to make it!