Hey there prayer buddy and AWESOME blogging mama friends! Could you please say an extra prayer for me tonight? I have to have an amnio in the morning and I have to tell you - YIKES! I’m a bit scared.
I guess God was really using Tessa to teach me a lesson on fear this week for a reason. No need for big concern, I’m just a Scaredy Cat. You see, I did what no person in their right mind should do before a medical procedure; I googled. U-Tube had an assortment of lovely amnio videos for my viewing pleasure and now I’m pretty sure I won’t be sleeping tonight!
My husband almost passed out once because he thought it would be a good idea to watch them put the epidural in during one of my labors. That was not a good choice on his part. He said it was one of the freakiest things he has ever seen. He’s in for a treat in the morning. I can’t decide if I should warn him via making him watch what I watched, or if ignorance really is bliss.
Thanks for your prayers – in the end it is worth every snuggle and baby coo in the world!
If you happen to be my in real life friend/family or FB friend, please don’t mention this on my FB wall. I’m not in the mood to answer lots of questions about my pregnancy to some people I sat next too in 8th grade science or met once at a party.
Also, this baby is coming sometime in the next week or two. I would love to offer up some of my labor for your intentions, so comment or send me an e-mail if you have a prayer request!
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Monday, April 11, 2011
A Theological Crisis in the Bathroom
Last night was crazy here in Central Wisconsin! Out of no where the temperature went up to over 80 degrees and brought with it a lot of severe storms. Joseph took “his girls” out for ice cream and all 3 of us were wearing sun dresses that no longer fit! Mine a bit too taught around the middle due to the large belly and Tessa and Anna’s dresses from last year have become far too short! It was too hot for this mama to care, so out for ice cream we went.
We knew severe storms were called for, so we needed to get out and pick up some batteries for the flashlight. We made it home just in time for the tornado sirens to go off. We don’t have a basement, so we collected our newly working flashlight, the computer, some candles and the girls’ blankies and had a family party in the bathroom!
I was surprised to learn that Tessa was really afraid of all the thunder and lightening. The lightening really seemed to get her. Before we made our way into the bathroom I assured her there was no need to be scared, but that if she hears that siren she always needs to find mommy, daddy or a grown up to go with – just like when the smoke detector goes off. She could not be settled (and neither could her curly hair I may add, her mop top could seriously be used by the national weather service!).
Once in the bathroom so continued to tell everyone to relax. It became very apparent to mommy and daddy that she kept repeating this because she was really having a hard time. I reminded her that sometimes when we are scared we can always ask Jesus, Mary or God to please help us not to be scared anymore. She listened, was quite for a few minutes and then the questions I thought I wouldn’t get as a parent for another 10 years started pouring out of my 3 year old.
TESSA: “Mama, why ask Jesus and Mary and God to make me not scared of the lightening when they could just make the storm stop?”
MAMA: “Well, God is so big that we can’t always understand Him, but even when we don’t understand we know one thing for sure; He loves us more than anything, so we can ALWAYS ask Him to help us,”
TESSA: “Yeah, but if he loves me he’ll take the storm away so I don’t have to be scared anymore?”
MAMA: “Well, no,” I said. God doesn’t always do what we ask of Him, He loves us so much and knows better than we do what is the best thing for us. He is even smarter than mommy and daddy.”
TESSA: “But why does he want me to be scared? That’s not very nice of Him, that’s not loving.”
While Tessa sat on a bathroom stool asking all the questions of faith and life, Joseph and I made eyes of desperation and shock at each other through the bathroom mirror. I was literally saved by the bell when the siren stopped and I excused myself to go into the living room and check the TV to see if the storm had passed.
The all clear was given and our family theology session in the bathroom ended. Later, during night time prayer Tessa thanked Jesus for keeping us safe during the storm. As I was mentally patting myself on the back for my awesome parenting she interrupted my prideful moment:
TESSA: “See mama, God will take the storm away when I ask him to. So I don’t have to be scared. Because He DOES love me.”
MAMA: “Umm, well, that’s not really…ummmm..not every time…. He didn’t…ummmm. Goodnight! I love you!”
Apparently I was chocking on all my pride!
So God won’t ALWAYS clear Tessa’s path of storms. I know I’ll have to teach her about redemptive suffering someday.
But really, cut me a break, I’ve got a 3 year old theologian on my hands here and I was sitting crossed legged on a cold title bathroom floor, nine months pregnant in a tornado warning. I can only do so much.
Clearly I need to start asking for God to guide me in my parenting of my very intuitive and inquisitive daughter!
I never do this because I always feel gross around this time. But now I wish I had done it with Tessa and Anna - so here I am!
We knew severe storms were called for, so we needed to get out and pick up some batteries for the flashlight. We made it home just in time for the tornado sirens to go off. We don’t have a basement, so we collected our newly working flashlight, the computer, some candles and the girls’ blankies and had a family party in the bathroom!
I was surprised to learn that Tessa was really afraid of all the thunder and lightening. The lightening really seemed to get her. Before we made our way into the bathroom I assured her there was no need to be scared, but that if she hears that siren she always needs to find mommy, daddy or a grown up to go with – just like when the smoke detector goes off. She could not be settled (and neither could her curly hair I may add, her mop top could seriously be used by the national weather service!).
Once in the bathroom so continued to tell everyone to relax. It became very apparent to mommy and daddy that she kept repeating this because she was really having a hard time. I reminded her that sometimes when we are scared we can always ask Jesus, Mary or God to please help us not to be scared anymore. She listened, was quite for a few minutes and then the questions I thought I wouldn’t get as a parent for another 10 years started pouring out of my 3 year old.
TESSA: “Mama, why ask Jesus and Mary and God to make me not scared of the lightening when they could just make the storm stop?”
MAMA: “Well, God is so big that we can’t always understand Him, but even when we don’t understand we know one thing for sure; He loves us more than anything, so we can ALWAYS ask Him to help us,”
TESSA: “Yeah, but if he loves me he’ll take the storm away so I don’t have to be scared anymore?”
MAMA: “Well, no,” I said. God doesn’t always do what we ask of Him, He loves us so much and knows better than we do what is the best thing for us. He is even smarter than mommy and daddy.”
TESSA: “But why does he want me to be scared? That’s not very nice of Him, that’s not loving.”
While Tessa sat on a bathroom stool asking all the questions of faith and life, Joseph and I made eyes of desperation and shock at each other through the bathroom mirror. I was literally saved by the bell when the siren stopped and I excused myself to go into the living room and check the TV to see if the storm had passed.
The all clear was given and our family theology session in the bathroom ended. Later, during night time prayer Tessa thanked Jesus for keeping us safe during the storm. As I was mentally patting myself on the back for my awesome parenting she interrupted my prideful moment:
TESSA: “See mama, God will take the storm away when I ask him to. So I don’t have to be scared. Because He DOES love me.”
MAMA: “Umm, well, that’s not really…ummmm..not every time…. He didn’t…ummmm. Goodnight! I love you!”
Apparently I was chocking on all my pride!
So God won’t ALWAYS clear Tessa’s path of storms. I know I’ll have to teach her about redemptive suffering someday.
But really, cut me a break, I’ve got a 3 year old theologian on my hands here and I was sitting crossed legged on a cold title bathroom floor, nine months pregnant in a tornado warning. I can only do so much.
Clearly I need to start asking for God to guide me in my parenting of my very intuitive and inquisitive daughter!
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
The Working Mother
I’m a working mother. In my opinion, the words “mother” and “worker” are synonyms.
I don’t claim to understand the inner workings or mystery that is God. I believe the vastness of His love is too much for our mortal, fallen minds to grasp.
I am sure our worth is not found in a paycheck and that every life holds the same amount of value. That amount does not begin with a dollar sign.
This is not the mind set of our culture. Questions such as “what do you do?” and “what are you?” are quick to form on the lips of strangers and long lost friends. The answers sought are often job titles, and expected as definitions of a person instead of how a paycheck is earned.
When a mother is asked what she “does” there is often a qualifier placed in front of her answer, either by herself or the person she’s speaking to. “Oh, I’m JUST a mom,” or, “so you JUST stay home?”
Don’t cut yourself short, moms! There’s no “just” about this gig! Let’s all get together on one thing; in the language of motherhood, “just” should indeed be treated as a four letter word. Let’s not say it about ourselves or let others use it in reference to our vocation.
There are many calls to the same vocation. This is especially true of motherhood. Some are called to be the family breadwinner; some are called to be home fulltime, some half time. There are mothers who are called to bring new life into the world yearly during their season of fertility in the form of a new baby while others carry the cross of infertility. Some mothers are called to mother children of the world who have no mother.
As mother, the one thing we all have in common is that we are all called to live our lives breathing life into the world, be that into little souls trusted in our care or in the many other ways God calls that breath from us into the world. It is fruitful. It is good, and it is different in each mother.
I am currently called to be a work at home mother. Working from home is stressful, but worth it for our family. I started working from home for a family centered company when our second daughter was two months old. The opportunity was a God send for me.
Joseph and I had just had two daughters in one year and realized we needed an additional source of income. Over these two years my commitment has varied. My role and time commitment has nicely settled into about 15 hours a week.
My freelancing career has grown greatly over these past two years. On average, I am working on freelance assignments about10 hours a week, putting my total weekly working hours at about 25.
The addition of these freelance hours has helped me become a better worker and a better mother. When I found myself too overwhelmed with these commitments I took a step back and really discerned how I work.
I used to “work” all throughout the day. Making a phone call here and there, checking my e-mail every hour and answering e-mails as they came in. At the end of the day I had really only “worked” maybe an hour and a half. Yet, I felt like I was working all day every day and that the TV was babysitting my children.
My husband and I decided this was not working for our family and after much discernment, we decided that although I am still called to be a work at home mother, how I went about it needed to change. With my freelancing growing we decided it was time to make room in our lives for me to have some solid and defined working time.
For the past few months we have set aside larger blocks of time for me to work. Instead of always feeling like my mind was on work while my kids fit between those stresses, we’ve shifted our focus. I work less days but for longer periods of time. This has created less time stressing about work and more time actually working. It’s been a wonderful change for me mentally and it’s been great for my projects and my motherhood. I’ve been able to take on more freelance work and feel the publications I work on for my job have become better as a result.
The last trimester of this pregnancy has been one of great discernment for this work at home mother. I have a masters degree and the student loans that often accompany such a degree. In the past month many have asked me when I am going to “use” my degree.
My favorite question is, “when are you going to stop wasting your degree and go back to work?”
The question boils my blood. I do work. I am a mother, and a working mother at that. Just because I don’t leave my house everyday does not mean I’m not working, that I’m wasting my education or that I am financially lazy.
A few doors were recently opened to me and there was the possibility of me going back to work, full or part time, outside of the home.
During the daytime hours I was able to talk myself into this. I thought of all the debt we could pay off, vacations we could take and stress that would be taken off our plate.
But, the night. The night was another story.
For a few days I was unable to sleep and didn’t know why. Then I started having panic attacks. As perfect as the plan sounded, I am not called to it. I am called to be doing what I’m doing. I am home with my kids AND I work. The way our family pieces that all together is unconventional, but it works for us.
I feel so blessed to be home with my girls, doing a job I really like, working with people who share the same values as we do and building my writing career right along side my family. We are willing to sacrifice to live in the way we feel called. Just as mothers who work full time outside of the home are willing to sacrifice things to fill the role they are called to as a mother. Same vocation: different and equal call.
Like many other things in life, motherhood seldom goes exactly as expected. I learned this lesson in my first days as a mother when I was unable to breastfeed. I was heartbroken. I had convinced myself that to be a good mother one MUST breastfeed. God did not create that opportunity for me. Instead, His plan was much greater. His plan was Irish twins for us. This heartbreak turned into the blessing we call Anna Clare.
As I write this, I am very pregnant. My mother has come for a few days to help take care of the girls and clean my house so I may rest and get ahead on my projects and job to prepare for the birth of our third daughter. On this very day we are both answering the call to motherhood. My mother on her hands and knees scrubbing floors for her daughter and I in a chair, resting so that the daughter in my womb may grow strong and ready to enter the world. Very different kinds of work, but work none the less.
Truth is, there is as many definitions of a good mother as there are mothers. We need not compare our situations and gifts to one another. Motherhood is not a competition. There need not be winners and losers. As mothers we love children, and therefore want all mothers to be winners.
We’re all working mothers. We are exactly the mothers our children need and we fulfill this call in many different ways.
Motherhood, in all its many forms is a high call and a lot of WORK. No ifs, ands, buts or “justs” about it!
I don’t claim to understand the inner workings or mystery that is God. I believe the vastness of His love is too much for our mortal, fallen minds to grasp.
I am sure our worth is not found in a paycheck and that every life holds the same amount of value. That amount does not begin with a dollar sign.
This is not the mind set of our culture. Questions such as “what do you do?” and “what are you?” are quick to form on the lips of strangers and long lost friends. The answers sought are often job titles, and expected as definitions of a person instead of how a paycheck is earned.
When a mother is asked what she “does” there is often a qualifier placed in front of her answer, either by herself or the person she’s speaking to. “Oh, I’m JUST a mom,” or, “so you JUST stay home?”
Don’t cut yourself short, moms! There’s no “just” about this gig! Let’s all get together on one thing; in the language of motherhood, “just” should indeed be treated as a four letter word. Let’s not say it about ourselves or let others use it in reference to our vocation.
There are many calls to the same vocation. This is especially true of motherhood. Some are called to be the family breadwinner; some are called to be home fulltime, some half time. There are mothers who are called to bring new life into the world yearly during their season of fertility in the form of a new baby while others carry the cross of infertility. Some mothers are called to mother children of the world who have no mother.
As mother, the one thing we all have in common is that we are all called to live our lives breathing life into the world, be that into little souls trusted in our care or in the many other ways God calls that breath from us into the world. It is fruitful. It is good, and it is different in each mother.
I am currently called to be a work at home mother. Working from home is stressful, but worth it for our family. I started working from home for a family centered company when our second daughter was two months old. The opportunity was a God send for me.
Joseph and I had just had two daughters in one year and realized we needed an additional source of income. Over these two years my commitment has varied. My role and time commitment has nicely settled into about 15 hours a week.
My freelancing career has grown greatly over these past two years. On average, I am working on freelance assignments about10 hours a week, putting my total weekly working hours at about 25.
The addition of these freelance hours has helped me become a better worker and a better mother. When I found myself too overwhelmed with these commitments I took a step back and really discerned how I work.
I used to “work” all throughout the day. Making a phone call here and there, checking my e-mail every hour and answering e-mails as they came in. At the end of the day I had really only “worked” maybe an hour and a half. Yet, I felt like I was working all day every day and that the TV was babysitting my children.
My husband and I decided this was not working for our family and after much discernment, we decided that although I am still called to be a work at home mother, how I went about it needed to change. With my freelancing growing we decided it was time to make room in our lives for me to have some solid and defined working time.
For the past few months we have set aside larger blocks of time for me to work. Instead of always feeling like my mind was on work while my kids fit between those stresses, we’ve shifted our focus. I work less days but for longer periods of time. This has created less time stressing about work and more time actually working. It’s been a wonderful change for me mentally and it’s been great for my projects and my motherhood. I’ve been able to take on more freelance work and feel the publications I work on for my job have become better as a result.
The last trimester of this pregnancy has been one of great discernment for this work at home mother. I have a masters degree and the student loans that often accompany such a degree. In the past month many have asked me when I am going to “use” my degree.
My favorite question is, “when are you going to stop wasting your degree and go back to work?”
The question boils my blood. I do work. I am a mother, and a working mother at that. Just because I don’t leave my house everyday does not mean I’m not working, that I’m wasting my education or that I am financially lazy.
A few doors were recently opened to me and there was the possibility of me going back to work, full or part time, outside of the home.
During the daytime hours I was able to talk myself into this. I thought of all the debt we could pay off, vacations we could take and stress that would be taken off our plate.
But, the night. The night was another story.
For a few days I was unable to sleep and didn’t know why. Then I started having panic attacks. As perfect as the plan sounded, I am not called to it. I am called to be doing what I’m doing. I am home with my kids AND I work. The way our family pieces that all together is unconventional, but it works for us.
I feel so blessed to be home with my girls, doing a job I really like, working with people who share the same values as we do and building my writing career right along side my family. We are willing to sacrifice to live in the way we feel called. Just as mothers who work full time outside of the home are willing to sacrifice things to fill the role they are called to as a mother. Same vocation: different and equal call.
Like many other things in life, motherhood seldom goes exactly as expected. I learned this lesson in my first days as a mother when I was unable to breastfeed. I was heartbroken. I had convinced myself that to be a good mother one MUST breastfeed. God did not create that opportunity for me. Instead, His plan was much greater. His plan was Irish twins for us. This heartbreak turned into the blessing we call Anna Clare.
As I write this, I am very pregnant. My mother has come for a few days to help take care of the girls and clean my house so I may rest and get ahead on my projects and job to prepare for the birth of our third daughter. On this very day we are both answering the call to motherhood. My mother on her hands and knees scrubbing floors for her daughter and I in a chair, resting so that the daughter in my womb may grow strong and ready to enter the world. Very different kinds of work, but work none the less.
Truth is, there is as many definitions of a good mother as there are mothers. We need not compare our situations and gifts to one another. Motherhood is not a competition. There need not be winners and losers. As mothers we love children, and therefore want all mothers to be winners.
We’re all working mothers. We are exactly the mothers our children need and we fulfill this call in many different ways.
Motherhood, in all its many forms is a high call and a lot of WORK. No ifs, ands, buts or “justs” about it!
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Can’t Seem to Catch that Nesting Bug!
At 34 weeks pregnant I am now officially the biggest I have ever been in my life. I’m not ashamed of my giant classification. In both my previous pregnancies I have just kind of looked bigger. I never had that “basketball belly” and was really envious of women who were all belly.
Let me tell you, the grass is NOT always greener on the other side. Sometimes it’s soggy, and muddy, and difficult to walk in. I do have myself a basketball. I am all belly, lots and lots of belly. I can’t bend or see my feet. I “let” my 3 year old “help” me make dinner tonight because she thinks its fun to bend down and get the pots and pans out of the cupboards.
As I hopped up onto the scale at the doctor’s office this week the nice med tech lady put the little marker on the 150 lbs notch! Let me tell you, her finger couldn’t slide that thing allll the way to the other end fast enough! I laughed out loud at her.
“Umm, thanks, but you can go right ahead and switch that up to the 200 notch down there” I said.
She didn’t respond. Must be protocol.
She does have my chart in her hand, right? I thought to myself.
I spent my entire appointment wondering if medical professionals have a whole day of class in their programs about NOT offending women on the scale. Because really, there is no way any person in their right mind would take a look at me and put that notch on 150. I’m still laughing. Not only am I huge, but I am also 5’9. That lady was insane, or blind.
The whole thing reminded me of the time my husband had to be given a “mesh shirt” to wear. He was having a 24 test done on his heart and the mesh shirt was supposed to hold the wires and leads hooked up to his chest in place.
This mesh shirt was one size fits all -at the children’s hospital - he’s 6’6.
“Don’t worry, it’ll stretch,” the lady hooking him up to the test said.
The mesh tank top was a neon green sports bra on his broad frame. He looked like a cross dresser on his way to a rave.
Up until recently we have been thinking we may move before baby makes her grand entrance. Now that we know we will be living in our current location when she arrives, I need to get down to business. This week’s events on the scale and the need to enlist a 3 year old as my sous chef have me thinking I’m running out of time. For crying out loud, we made dinner on the floor tonight so mama could rest. We were boiling raviolis. I had to sit and rest in the middle of putting water into a pot and dumping in raviolis. I turned it into a counting game for Tessa because I’m a mama, and we need to turn our lazy moments into educational activities for our children to get through the day.
I better get going before I become immobile. This basketball belly is so large there is impending danger that being upright may just cause me to topple right over. There are young ones underfoot here, I can’t be toppling over. Not when my house is this messy. Someone could be injured.
There is one problem. I just haven’t gotten that nesting bug. I’ve been bitten by it before. It makes a woman a crazy cleaning machine. The only time in my life I have ever cleaned behind an appliance has been while pregnant. I don’t naturally think of those things. I’m a pile maker and a pick up so I can redecorate or rearrange the furniture kind of gal. I need to be bitten by the nesting bug, and fast.
All the baby clothes are still packed in bins in our garage and we haven’t even thought about if we will be setting up the crib or the pack and play in our bedroom. I did order a new bouncy seat offline. It came 2 weeks ago. The huge box it came in sat in our living room and served as Tessa and Anna’s “bus” until just the other day when my husband took it out with the recycling. As for the bouncy seat, I opened the box. It’s now sitting in our bedroom unassembled.
I thought I had maybe been bitten by the nesting bug this afternoon. But, now here I sit. “Cleaning” out my stack of magazines in the lay Z boy and watching Grey’s Anatomy. I am clipping the coupons and tearing out yummy looking recipes. And, I will collect the magazines into a bag when I am done and ask my husband to take them to recycling after we all trip over the pile for a few days. So, it counts. Right?
**Prayer Bubby: Wow! I really need you! Thanks for all your prayers and PLEASE keep them coming. Lots of big things to be thinking and praying about over here right now. Hoping to post about some of them soon, but for now, thank you and please don't stop!**
Let me tell you, the grass is NOT always greener on the other side. Sometimes it’s soggy, and muddy, and difficult to walk in. I do have myself a basketball. I am all belly, lots and lots of belly. I can’t bend or see my feet. I “let” my 3 year old “help” me make dinner tonight because she thinks its fun to bend down and get the pots and pans out of the cupboards.
As I hopped up onto the scale at the doctor’s office this week the nice med tech lady put the little marker on the 150 lbs notch! Let me tell you, her finger couldn’t slide that thing allll the way to the other end fast enough! I laughed out loud at her.
“Umm, thanks, but you can go right ahead and switch that up to the 200 notch down there” I said.
She didn’t respond. Must be protocol.
She does have my chart in her hand, right? I thought to myself.
I spent my entire appointment wondering if medical professionals have a whole day of class in their programs about NOT offending women on the scale. Because really, there is no way any person in their right mind would take a look at me and put that notch on 150. I’m still laughing. Not only am I huge, but I am also 5’9. That lady was insane, or blind.
The whole thing reminded me of the time my husband had to be given a “mesh shirt” to wear. He was having a 24 test done on his heart and the mesh shirt was supposed to hold the wires and leads hooked up to his chest in place.
This mesh shirt was one size fits all -at the children’s hospital - he’s 6’6.
“Don’t worry, it’ll stretch,” the lady hooking him up to the test said.
The mesh tank top was a neon green sports bra on his broad frame. He looked like a cross dresser on his way to a rave.
Up until recently we have been thinking we may move before baby makes her grand entrance. Now that we know we will be living in our current location when she arrives, I need to get down to business. This week’s events on the scale and the need to enlist a 3 year old as my sous chef have me thinking I’m running out of time. For crying out loud, we made dinner on the floor tonight so mama could rest. We were boiling raviolis. I had to sit and rest in the middle of putting water into a pot and dumping in raviolis. I turned it into a counting game for Tessa because I’m a mama, and we need to turn our lazy moments into educational activities for our children to get through the day.
I better get going before I become immobile. This basketball belly is so large there is impending danger that being upright may just cause me to topple right over. There are young ones underfoot here, I can’t be toppling over. Not when my house is this messy. Someone could be injured.
There is one problem. I just haven’t gotten that nesting bug. I’ve been bitten by it before. It makes a woman a crazy cleaning machine. The only time in my life I have ever cleaned behind an appliance has been while pregnant. I don’t naturally think of those things. I’m a pile maker and a pick up so I can redecorate or rearrange the furniture kind of gal. I need to be bitten by the nesting bug, and fast.
All the baby clothes are still packed in bins in our garage and we haven’t even thought about if we will be setting up the crib or the pack and play in our bedroom. I did order a new bouncy seat offline. It came 2 weeks ago. The huge box it came in sat in our living room and served as Tessa and Anna’s “bus” until just the other day when my husband took it out with the recycling. As for the bouncy seat, I opened the box. It’s now sitting in our bedroom unassembled.
I thought I had maybe been bitten by the nesting bug this afternoon. But, now here I sit. “Cleaning” out my stack of magazines in the lay Z boy and watching Grey’s Anatomy. I am clipping the coupons and tearing out yummy looking recipes. And, I will collect the magazines into a bag when I am done and ask my husband to take them to recycling after we all trip over the pile for a few days. So, it counts. Right?
**Prayer Bubby: Wow! I really need you! Thanks for all your prayers and PLEASE keep them coming. Lots of big things to be thinking and praying about over here right now. Hoping to post about some of them soon, but for now, thank you and please don't stop!**
 |
| My Sous Chef |
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Why I’m NOT giving up anything for Lent.
Ok, don’t throw stones. Remember Lent is a time to grow in the love and peace of Christ.
I’ve spent a great amount of time praying and reflecting and what my Lenten sacrifices would be this year. In the process, I found even the exercise was not exciting me about a time for spiritual growth, but adding to my already large amount of anxiety about our current state in life.
This is not what the liturgical season is about. In the past I’ve attempted (with varying degrees of success) several difficult Lenten sacrifices and tasks. I never was one to give up sweats or something else I would simply count down the 40 days until I could partake in again. Instead, I have always seen the season as a time to attempt to change something about myself - be it a bad habit or an unhealthy mental reaction I’d fallen into regarding certain people or situations. A wise spiritual advisor had recommended giving up or adding something so difficult that only with the aid of God Himself I would have a chance of succeeding. Either way, when Christ arrives resurrected with Easter, I am marveling at the power of God in my life. I have either changed something about myself for good, or I have learned a valuable lesson about how fallen I am and how much I need Christ.
The truth is, this year, giving something up or adding something big is just too much for my already full plate. Our life is Lent right now. I’m not complaining. In fact the parallels between the Lenten season and our struggles right now are not lost on me. I am thankful my personal life is coinciding with the Liturgical year as over the last year the seasons of my life did not coincide with those of the Church and it left me feeling slightly separate from the community of believers.
Every possible life situation that could be up in the air right now for our family is. I know nothing about what our life will be in 2 months. The only thing I know is that we are having a baby. Joseph is working on his graduate thesis and we are hoping he will graduate the week after Easter. With his graduation comes the loss of his job (he works as a graduate assistant at the University), and thus the loss of our insurance. We had Joseph complete this master’s degree with the hopes of him getting a state/university job. That hope is currently lost/up in the air as we live in Wisconsin. If you don’t know what’s happening with the fighting over these issues in Wisconsin you must be living under a rock. Regardless of if we agree or not, the state is not currently hiring as its fate is up in the air.
Joseph is currently working so hard to finish his thesis and apply for jobs. I’ve put the purchase of anything and everything on hold in case there are months of unemployment. This means our van is still unfixed and I am going on 7 months of not having a vehicle. We also thought we would be moved by now as we thought we would know where he will be working and where we will be living. But that is up in the air as well and I am trying to make space in a 2 bedroom condo for a family of 5 because we will now be bringing home baby to what I call a “cracker box.”
Because of the insurance issue, Joseph will have his yearly heart appointments and our new baby will have her genetic tests the first week in May before our insurance runs out. I pray the baby comes in time and that Joseph’s health is holding strong, I can’t think of the alternatives – mentally or logistically.
These stresses have become a bit overwhelming for a really pregnant me. I know the emotions of pregnancy are to blame, but it’s become a lot to have on my plate. Joseph is really busy trying to finish school and take care of all of these things. The long winter, very small living space with no vehicle to go anywhere and the stress has gotten to me and I don’t think I’m my best self right now.
So, I won’t be giving anything up for Lent. Instead, I’ll try to best see the blessings in our life, look forward to the arrival of our third daughter and NOT let the anxiety and stress of everything else get to me as I have been allowing it to. So, my life is my Lent this year!
I do want to hold myself accountable, but also don’t want to be too hard on myself or deny my emotions. I am 32 weeks pregnant after all and the things on my plate are real concerns for our family. So, I’ll attempt to handle them in the most holy way I can and support Joseph is doing the same.
I do feel as though I may need a substitute for the fasting. Due to medical reasons for both of us, Joseph and I are not required nor could we uphold the fasting requirements of Lent. And, since our children are too young I don’t think I’ll focus on them in our home. Maybe I’ll attempt a cleaner kitchen. It is something I struggle with and food related.
This is the biggest Lent of my life; God has obviously set the stage for it to be. I’m not giving up a thing. I’ll just deal with life. Doing so with grace will be a huge success for me. And, it’s truly only possible with God at this point!
A blessed and peaceful Lent to you all!
PS – I joined the Lent Prayer Buddies this year! Prayer buddy, welcome! I’m so sorry you got me, you’ve got a lot of work cut out for you this Lent. Although I don’t know your name, please know I have already added you to my prayer list as well.
I’ve spent a great amount of time praying and reflecting and what my Lenten sacrifices would be this year. In the process, I found even the exercise was not exciting me about a time for spiritual growth, but adding to my already large amount of anxiety about our current state in life.
This is not what the liturgical season is about. In the past I’ve attempted (with varying degrees of success) several difficult Lenten sacrifices and tasks. I never was one to give up sweats or something else I would simply count down the 40 days until I could partake in again. Instead, I have always seen the season as a time to attempt to change something about myself - be it a bad habit or an unhealthy mental reaction I’d fallen into regarding certain people or situations. A wise spiritual advisor had recommended giving up or adding something so difficult that only with the aid of God Himself I would have a chance of succeeding. Either way, when Christ arrives resurrected with Easter, I am marveling at the power of God in my life. I have either changed something about myself for good, or I have learned a valuable lesson about how fallen I am and how much I need Christ.
The truth is, this year, giving something up or adding something big is just too much for my already full plate. Our life is Lent right now. I’m not complaining. In fact the parallels between the Lenten season and our struggles right now are not lost on me. I am thankful my personal life is coinciding with the Liturgical year as over the last year the seasons of my life did not coincide with those of the Church and it left me feeling slightly separate from the community of believers.
Every possible life situation that could be up in the air right now for our family is. I know nothing about what our life will be in 2 months. The only thing I know is that we are having a baby. Joseph is working on his graduate thesis and we are hoping he will graduate the week after Easter. With his graduation comes the loss of his job (he works as a graduate assistant at the University), and thus the loss of our insurance. We had Joseph complete this master’s degree with the hopes of him getting a state/university job. That hope is currently lost/up in the air as we live in Wisconsin. If you don’t know what’s happening with the fighting over these issues in Wisconsin you must be living under a rock. Regardless of if we agree or not, the state is not currently hiring as its fate is up in the air.
Joseph is currently working so hard to finish his thesis and apply for jobs. I’ve put the purchase of anything and everything on hold in case there are months of unemployment. This means our van is still unfixed and I am going on 7 months of not having a vehicle. We also thought we would be moved by now as we thought we would know where he will be working and where we will be living. But that is up in the air as well and I am trying to make space in a 2 bedroom condo for a family of 5 because we will now be bringing home baby to what I call a “cracker box.”
Because of the insurance issue, Joseph will have his yearly heart appointments and our new baby will have her genetic tests the first week in May before our insurance runs out. I pray the baby comes in time and that Joseph’s health is holding strong, I can’t think of the alternatives – mentally or logistically.
These stresses have become a bit overwhelming for a really pregnant me. I know the emotions of pregnancy are to blame, but it’s become a lot to have on my plate. Joseph is really busy trying to finish school and take care of all of these things. The long winter, very small living space with no vehicle to go anywhere and the stress has gotten to me and I don’t think I’m my best self right now.
So, I won’t be giving anything up for Lent. Instead, I’ll try to best see the blessings in our life, look forward to the arrival of our third daughter and NOT let the anxiety and stress of everything else get to me as I have been allowing it to. So, my life is my Lent this year!
I do want to hold myself accountable, but also don’t want to be too hard on myself or deny my emotions. I am 32 weeks pregnant after all and the things on my plate are real concerns for our family. So, I’ll attempt to handle them in the most holy way I can and support Joseph is doing the same.
I do feel as though I may need a substitute for the fasting. Due to medical reasons for both of us, Joseph and I are not required nor could we uphold the fasting requirements of Lent. And, since our children are too young I don’t think I’ll focus on them in our home. Maybe I’ll attempt a cleaner kitchen. It is something I struggle with and food related.
This is the biggest Lent of my life; God has obviously set the stage for it to be. I’m not giving up a thing. I’ll just deal with life. Doing so with grace will be a huge success for me. And, it’s truly only possible with God at this point!
A blessed and peaceful Lent to you all!
PS – I joined the Lent Prayer Buddies this year! Prayer buddy, welcome! I’m so sorry you got me, you’ve got a lot of work cut out for you this Lent. Although I don’t know your name, please know I have already added you to my prayer list as well.
 |
| Clearly Anna Clare isn't worried. I need to take lesson from my soon to be middle child! |
Friday, March 4, 2011
A Tale of Two Dresses
Betty Beguiles recently challenged her fellow bloggers to reflect on their wedding dresses. What the dress said about us then and what our thoughts on the dress say about who we are today. Personally, the questions posed are about much more than fashion.
What I wore, how I chose it and how I felt wearing it reflect so much on my expectations going into marriage, and ultimately how I feel about expectations (and fashion) today.
I was far from a “Bridezilla.” I was over the moon to be engaged and excited about the wedding, but I preferred a small affair. My husband- to- be and my parents wanted a larger wedding. I knew I wanted to get married in my hometown. We met in the Church in my hometown and I thought it greatly romantic to be married in the very building we met. Unfortunately, that was not to be.
When it came to my dress I had two requirements. The color had to be the darkest shade of white that could still be called white. Alabaster is too kind a work for how very white my complexion is. I also have a great amount of almost black hair. An odd combination I am aware. Therefore, white is not the most flattering color on me. An ivory or wine shade of white was necessary. I also wanted a halter style dress. I find this fit the most flattering on me and I’m not a huge fan of strapless dresses in Church.
To my complete surprise, my mother and I found the perfect dress in the tiny boutique in my small hometown. It was dark ivory lace in the halter style with a long train. It was also more than double what I thought I would spend. I won’t share the price because I am shamed! My mom cried when I tried it on. We ordered it on the spot and she purchased it for me. The wedding was planned and deposits were made.
A few months into our engagement we found out Joseph needed his first heart surgery. All the wedding plans that seemed to be so important melted away with the “honeymoon” carefree stage of new love. There were many decisions to be made and prayers to be said. At the last minute we decided to move up our wedding and get married before the surgery. We decided on a Sunday to be married the next weekend.
There were strong reactions. Some of our loved ones found the circumstances romantic and a testament to our commitment to each other and the sacrament of marriage. We believe strongly in the graces of the sacrament and knew we would need those graces for the hard road in front of us.
Others were less than supportive. Emotions were high and the sum of all the circumstances may have been a bit much for some. Things were said that made me feel like less than a bride. “It’s not a real wedding” seemed to be the theme of those not is support of our decision. This created a fashion emergency for me.
My fancy, lace covered, extremely expensive dress had not yet arrived and would not have been fitting for the somber/joyful small affair.
My maid of honor and mother put together a wedding in a week as I had just started a new job and was working 12 hour days. They suggested I go to a bridal store and buy something off the rack from the less formal wedding lines. It would be white and a wedding dress, but not too fancy for a small wedding. I should have listened, but all the fighting and opinions of others made me feel as though I had no right wearing a wedding dress.
I spent every night that week in the large bridal store. I would only try on bridesmaid dresses. I was so emotional I had to call my fiancé to come and pick me up one night as I couldn’t drive myself. Wearing what I thought was my best dress option; I asked my fiancé and his friend their opinion when they arrived.
“Umm, it looks like a bridesmaid dress, but you look nice” my fiancé said.
I threw a shoe at him. In public. Not that I encourage throwing shoes at people in the comfort of their homes either.
Other people’s reaction to the biggest, best and hardest time in my life was preventing me from knowing what I wanted for myself. And I was allowing it. I was frustrated. All the expectations I had for my wedding I had given up out of love, how could people think badly of me? It was my first and only identity crisis and the only time in my life I look back on with regret.
Two days before our wedding I walked into Fashion Bug on my lunch hour and purchased a dress off the clearance rack for $14.99. It was white, it had lace and it was from their “beach wedding” line. I did not love the dress. I didn’t even really like it. It was the only white dress I could find that didn’t look too much like a wedding dress but was still a wedding dress.
I didn’t feel beautiful on my wedding day. I didn’t have my dad walk me down the aisle. Although that is what I wanted, I feared it would have appeared to others too “wedding like”. Because of the circumstances I didn’t feel as though others thought I had the right to be happy on my wedding day.
The wedding itself was amazing and the kindness and generosity of the people who supported us was overwhelming. There were about 50 people present and the mass was intimate and gorgeous. The important aspects of the day were perfect.
But the fashion - that symbolized a huge compromise. I compromised myself by allowing others to define the circumstances of our wedding. I still pray I will forgive myself someday.
My expectations of others and their opinions of my life have greatly changed because of the lesson of the wedding dress. It was a lovely wedding. I’m so sad I didn’t embrace it as fully as I could have. I did learn a very valuable lesson. Joseph and I no longer care what others think of our choices. We pray about what we do and how we run our family and that is as far as the consulting goes. We protect this union.
The saga of my wedding dresses is a hard one for me. Like so many hard things in life, the experience was freeing. The regret and anger I have at myself over the situation haunts me and motivates me to be who I am and no one else. I no longer care about or allow the opinions or negativity of others to impact how I feel, especially when it comes to my own life. I’m so thankful we learned this lesson early in our marriage and before we had children. Because I have been so blessed by that clearance dress, I am growing to love it as well.
We kept our originally set wedding date and had our reception. My husband was feeling better after his operation and it was a joyous affair. And, because some of you have asked – yes, this is where I feel on the dance floor. I broke my leg in two places. I left in an ambulance strapped to a stretcher in a huge wedding dress. I don’t know why they called an ambulance. It may have something to do with the fact that several of the people making decisions had been drinking. It was midnight after all.
That night ended with a middle aged man trying to get me (and all of my dress) onto an X-ray table in the ER. I was wearing my fancy, expensive wedding dress. Made just for me. I told them they could just cut the darn thing off, but they wouldn’t do it. They said it looked too fancy and I may regret having them cut it off of me. Instead, I was mortified to have others called into the room, put iron aprons on and hold the thing over my head so they could X-ray my leg.
I had two weddings, and two wedding dresses. I was humiliated in both of them, but loved greatly in both of them as well. More importantly, I have one groom. And one very big lesson learned about protecting my joy.
What I wore, how I chose it and how I felt wearing it reflect so much on my expectations going into marriage, and ultimately how I feel about expectations (and fashion) today.
I was far from a “Bridezilla.” I was over the moon to be engaged and excited about the wedding, but I preferred a small affair. My husband- to- be and my parents wanted a larger wedding. I knew I wanted to get married in my hometown. We met in the Church in my hometown and I thought it greatly romantic to be married in the very building we met. Unfortunately, that was not to be.
When it came to my dress I had two requirements. The color had to be the darkest shade of white that could still be called white. Alabaster is too kind a work for how very white my complexion is. I also have a great amount of almost black hair. An odd combination I am aware. Therefore, white is not the most flattering color on me. An ivory or wine shade of white was necessary. I also wanted a halter style dress. I find this fit the most flattering on me and I’m not a huge fan of strapless dresses in Church.
What I thought would be my wedding dress
A few months into our engagement we found out Joseph needed his first heart surgery. All the wedding plans that seemed to be so important melted away with the “honeymoon” carefree stage of new love. There were many decisions to be made and prayers to be said. At the last minute we decided to move up our wedding and get married before the surgery. We decided on a Sunday to be married the next weekend.
There were strong reactions. Some of our loved ones found the circumstances romantic and a testament to our commitment to each other and the sacrament of marriage. We believe strongly in the graces of the sacrament and knew we would need those graces for the hard road in front of us.
Others were less than supportive. Emotions were high and the sum of all the circumstances may have been a bit much for some. Things were said that made me feel like less than a bride. “It’s not a real wedding” seemed to be the theme of those not is support of our decision. This created a fashion emergency for me.
My fancy, lace covered, extremely expensive dress had not yet arrived and would not have been fitting for the somber/joyful small affair.
My maid of honor and mother put together a wedding in a week as I had just started a new job and was working 12 hour days. They suggested I go to a bridal store and buy something off the rack from the less formal wedding lines. It would be white and a wedding dress, but not too fancy for a small wedding. I should have listened, but all the fighting and opinions of others made me feel as though I had no right wearing a wedding dress.
I spent every night that week in the large bridal store. I would only try on bridesmaid dresses. I was so emotional I had to call my fiancé to come and pick me up one night as I couldn’t drive myself. Wearing what I thought was my best dress option; I asked my fiancé and his friend their opinion when they arrived.
“Umm, it looks like a bridesmaid dress, but you look nice” my fiancé said.
I threw a shoe at him. In public. Not that I encourage throwing shoes at people in the comfort of their homes either.
Other people’s reaction to the biggest, best and hardest time in my life was preventing me from knowing what I wanted for myself. And I was allowing it. I was frustrated. All the expectations I had for my wedding I had given up out of love, how could people think badly of me? It was my first and only identity crisis and the only time in my life I look back on with regret.
Two days before our wedding I walked into Fashion Bug on my lunch hour and purchased a dress off the clearance rack for $14.99. It was white, it had lace and it was from their “beach wedding” line. I did not love the dress. I didn’t even really like it. It was the only white dress I could find that didn’t look too much like a wedding dress but was still a wedding dress.
On our wedding day with my family
The wedding itself was amazing and the kindness and generosity of the people who supported us was overwhelming. There were about 50 people present and the mass was intimate and gorgeous. The important aspects of the day were perfect.
The best picture of us together on our wedding day
My expectations of others and their opinions of my life have greatly changed because of the lesson of the wedding dress. It was a lovely wedding. I’m so sad I didn’t embrace it as fully as I could have. I did learn a very valuable lesson. Joseph and I no longer care what others think of our choices. We pray about what we do and how we run our family and that is as far as the consulting goes. We protect this union.
The saga of my wedding dresses is a hard one for me. Like so many hard things in life, the experience was freeing. The regret and anger I have at myself over the situation haunts me and motivates me to be who I am and no one else. I no longer care about or allow the opinions or negativity of others to impact how I feel, especially when it comes to my own life. I’m so thankful we learned this lesson early in our marriage and before we had children. Because I have been so blessed by that clearance dress, I am growing to love it as well.
We kept our originally set wedding date and had our reception. My husband was feeling better after his operation and it was a joyous affair. And, because some of you have asked – yes, this is where I feel on the dance floor. I broke my leg in two places. I left in an ambulance strapped to a stretcher in a huge wedding dress. I don’t know why they called an ambulance. It may have something to do with the fact that several of the people making decisions had been drinking. It was midnight after all.
Since we did not walk in together on my wedding day, my dad walked me into the reception
With a college friend - right before I fell!
That night ended with a middle aged man trying to get me (and all of my dress) onto an X-ray table in the ER. I was wearing my fancy, expensive wedding dress. Made just for me. I told them they could just cut the darn thing off, but they wouldn’t do it. They said it looked too fancy and I may regret having them cut it off of me. Instead, I was mortified to have others called into the room, put iron aprons on and hold the thing over my head so they could X-ray my leg.
My older brother in the waiting room at the hospital. Poor guy has taken much heat for this SUPER funny picture
I had two weddings, and two wedding dresses. I was humiliated in both of them, but loved greatly in both of them as well. More importantly, I have one groom. And one very big lesson learned about protecting my joy.
With my groom. I love him so much we got married twice!
Friday, February 11, 2011
On the Day I Peed My Pants at Perkins.
Yes, you read that correctly. Today will always be known as the day I peed my pants, badly, in public.
Earlier this week I saw the perinatologist and although everything is wonderful, my blood pressure is being a bit wonky and he upped my meds, again. My medication had just been increased two weeks ago, but my body didn’t seem to be responding.
It was actually my favorite appointment of this pregnancy as I had an ultrasound and was able to bring Tessa along to share in the growing excitement of the newest little girl joining our family. Tessa did such an amazing job sitting still and was a very willing participant in my exam. Her loving and intuitive nature took over and she reached out for my hand, leaned over to give me kisses and rubbed my legs and belly as the ultrasound was taking place. It was an amazing moment in motherhood for me. I was witnessing the kicks and hiccups of my youngest child growing strong within me as I witnessed my oldest daughter’s gifts bloom alongside our family. It was one of my favorite days of all time.
I have been sleeping a lot this week and chalked it up to the third trimmest getting the best of me. Nothing to complain about – I have an amazing husband who truly enjoys spending time with his children and allowing mama to rest. This morning I was up early and since we needed to run a lot of errands I asked Joseph if we could take the family out for pancakes. He agreed so we all got dressed, I took my medication and out the door we went.
The second the meal I’d been craving for a week was placed in front of me I knew there was something wrong. I had no interest in the omelet that has actually made appearances in my dreams over the last week. I became dizzy, starting seeing spots and knew I was going to be sick. As I stood up to make my way to the bathroom a strange feeling came over me and I understood I had no control over my own body. I’ve been sick before, but never felt an imposter in my own skin. And then it happened. On my way to the bathroom I peed my pants. I’m not talking the “little something when I laugh some moms get after having a baby or two” type of accident. I’m talking full on “Kindergarten teacher calls your parents to bring you new clothes” type of deal.
I made it to the bathroom where I became sick and realized I was shivering and the coldest I have ever been in my entire life. I knew there was something wrong.
A visit to my doctor confirmed that the medication had dropped my blood pressure way too low way too fast. I was admitted to the hospital and spent the afternoon in the hospital getting some fluids and some drugs to bring my blood pressure back up.
I am home and feeling fine, although I can’t shake the extreme cold feeling. When I was released from the hospital my blood pressure was back up to 113/65 which is still extremely low for me, but a lot better than it was earlier in the day.
It’s only been 12 hours and I am already laughing hysterically at myself – filing this day right at the top of my long list of embarrassing Holly moments right up there with breaking my leg on the dance floor at my own wedding.
I really would do anything for these little girls. There is nothing in the world that can compare to watching Tessa want to care for me as I lie on a bed and get an ultrasound, or hear Anna ask me to lift my shirt so she can give the baby a kiss. There is a sweat baby girl growing strong in “mama’s belly” who had a hard day alongside her mama, feeling lethargic because that is how mama was feeling, but who remembered to kick once the IVs were going to remind me she was starting to feel better as well.
Motherhood is hard. It’s hard because it’s amazing. I’ll do anything for the joys motherhood brings me, even if it means standing in a crowded restaurant as I pee my pants.
Earlier this week I saw the perinatologist and although everything is wonderful, my blood pressure is being a bit wonky and he upped my meds, again. My medication had just been increased two weeks ago, but my body didn’t seem to be responding.
It was actually my favorite appointment of this pregnancy as I had an ultrasound and was able to bring Tessa along to share in the growing excitement of the newest little girl joining our family. Tessa did such an amazing job sitting still and was a very willing participant in my exam. Her loving and intuitive nature took over and she reached out for my hand, leaned over to give me kisses and rubbed my legs and belly as the ultrasound was taking place. It was an amazing moment in motherhood for me. I was witnessing the kicks and hiccups of my youngest child growing strong within me as I witnessed my oldest daughter’s gifts bloom alongside our family. It was one of my favorite days of all time.
I have been sleeping a lot this week and chalked it up to the third trimmest getting the best of me. Nothing to complain about – I have an amazing husband who truly enjoys spending time with his children and allowing mama to rest. This morning I was up early and since we needed to run a lot of errands I asked Joseph if we could take the family out for pancakes. He agreed so we all got dressed, I took my medication and out the door we went.
The second the meal I’d been craving for a week was placed in front of me I knew there was something wrong. I had no interest in the omelet that has actually made appearances in my dreams over the last week. I became dizzy, starting seeing spots and knew I was going to be sick. As I stood up to make my way to the bathroom a strange feeling came over me and I understood I had no control over my own body. I’ve been sick before, but never felt an imposter in my own skin. And then it happened. On my way to the bathroom I peed my pants. I’m not talking the “little something when I laugh some moms get after having a baby or two” type of accident. I’m talking full on “Kindergarten teacher calls your parents to bring you new clothes” type of deal.
I made it to the bathroom where I became sick and realized I was shivering and the coldest I have ever been in my entire life. I knew there was something wrong.
A visit to my doctor confirmed that the medication had dropped my blood pressure way too low way too fast. I was admitted to the hospital and spent the afternoon in the hospital getting some fluids and some drugs to bring my blood pressure back up.
I am home and feeling fine, although I can’t shake the extreme cold feeling. When I was released from the hospital my blood pressure was back up to 113/65 which is still extremely low for me, but a lot better than it was earlier in the day.
It’s only been 12 hours and I am already laughing hysterically at myself – filing this day right at the top of my long list of embarrassing Holly moments right up there with breaking my leg on the dance floor at my own wedding.
I really would do anything for these little girls. There is nothing in the world that can compare to watching Tessa want to care for me as I lie on a bed and get an ultrasound, or hear Anna ask me to lift my shirt so she can give the baby a kiss. There is a sweat baby girl growing strong in “mama’s belly” who had a hard day alongside her mama, feeling lethargic because that is how mama was feeling, but who remembered to kick once the IVs were going to remind me she was starting to feel better as well.
Motherhood is hard. It’s hard because it’s amazing. I’ll do anything for the joys motherhood brings me, even if it means standing in a crowded restaurant as I pee my pants.
Baby "L" (Which may or may not be a little hint at her name!)
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