Random

I never wanted to be a single parent.  Single motherhood is not easy, and it is not ideal.  Yet, here I am.  I try not to spend too much time worrying about all the statistics about the outcomes of children raised in broken homes.  Broken families create broken people.  It is tragic.  The Bible explains the important roles of both mother and father in raising their children.  Psychology research shows the importance of both mothers and fathers in the home, raising their children.  Prison data shows the impact of fatherless homes.  Medical journals, talk shows, schools, radio shows, magazine articles....the list goes on and on.  I know the data is out there.  It haunts me.  So, I try not to think about it very often.  If I allow myself to spend time worrying, I will quickly become overwhelmed.  I am doing all I can to give my children a stable, healthy, home environment, filled with love and joy.  But, I know it is not enough.  It will never be enough.  I will always fall short of the ideal.  My children will be affected.  They will be broken, always feeling like something was missing.  My heart aches at the thought.  So, I try to not allow myself to think about it.  I can't control it anyway.  So, instead I pray.  

I remind myself that I am blessed to be able to have this time with my children, watching them play and grow.  It is a short, swift season.  I take pictures.  Random pictures.  Trying to capture a snapshot of the joy they bring me as they laugh and play and grow...

Jersey #2 looks so cute in braids...

Food on a stick is a favorite dinner theme at church...

We even ate cake on a stick...

Jersey #5 likes dinner at church, because I let him select his own meal...

Jersey #4 demonstrates how to behave for dental cleanings.  Jersey #5 was super curious about the process.  (He did great when it was his turn too).

Dress up fun...

Jersey #3 wanted to learn how to make pancakes on the griddle.  He is becoming quite a chef, but that first pancake experience resulted in a very large mess, along with tasty pancakes...

Jersey #2 has mastered the cartwheel...

Jersey #4 is very close to being able to read a Dr. Suess book on her own.  When the kids are able to read "Green Eggs and Ham" on their own, I say that they have learned to read.  (Versus learning to read).  Jersey #4 was determined to pick a different book, and show me she could read it on her own.  She wore out about a third of the way through, and still required help.  She is getting closer.  It won't be long before she is a more independent reader...

Motherhood is a blessing.

Thanksgiving

Well, I have certainly taken a break from blogging for a while.  Life got busy.  I appear to have reached my photo limit on Picasa  so adding photos to my blog became a challenge.  I haven't been able to put things into words for a while, even though so much was happening in my thoughts.  So, I took a break.  Well, tonight, I decided to unload the pictures from my camera to my computer, and that has inspired me to update my blog.  We will see how far I get through this busy holiday season.  

Thanksgiving.

The kids and I had a great Thanksgiving holiday this year.  I was starting to get a grip on life again, and finally feeling like I was not as consumed with grief.  Dare I say I was starting to live a little, too.  My youngest sister and her family were going to be visiting our parents for a couple weeks, and our middle sister offered to host a big family Thanksgiving at her house.  The idea of getting the 3 sisters together again....along with our parents.....and the 11 grandbabies, was too exciting to miss!  Considering the youngest grandchild was born this year, this was the first time we were all going to be together.  Being the photo-loving family that we are, we planned a family photo for the occasion as well.

Everything turned out great.  I was especially spoiled.  The kids and I made the drive to my sister's house.  We did not have to prepare any food or bring anything.  She did all the cooking, with the help of both of my brothers-in-law.  We took photos before the meal, when everyone was freshly dressed and happy to be together.  The photos turned out great.  The meal was delicious.  The kids got along incredibly well.  It was a really fun time.  It was sweet to see my parents surrounded by all of their grandchildren at the same time.  

That evening, we drove to my parent's house for the night.  Then, we drove home the next morning.  (I prefer to drive during the daylight).  As I was driving, I thought about how nice this Thanksgiving was.  We made some great memories, and even cuter photos.  I would say it was one of my best Thanksgiving celebrations.

My absolute favorite Thanksgiving memory was in 2003.  Jersey #2 had just survived open-heart surgery the week before.  She was home from the hospital, we were home from California, and Jersey #1 was home from Granny & PawPaw's house.  Our family was alive, healthy, and reunited again.  Due to the high risk of germs and post surgery recovery, we stayed in isolation.  We did not invite anyone to the house, and we did not travel anywhere.  We stayed home and enjoyed a simple celebration.  We had so much to be thankful for that year.  A living, breathing, 3-month old, and her super sweet big sister were at the top of the list.  We had just endured a great roller coaster of stress and emotion, so the down time was a huge blessing.

A Team of My Own

I finally have my own team!

A 5-person soccer team.

When we start welcoming more children than the socially acceptable 2.1, folks will often comment about how pretty soon we will have enough for a basketball team....baseball team....or whatever sport seems relevant at the time.  I find that fun and amusing.

This Fall, all 5 kids are playing Upward Soccer.

Upward is played differently than most soccer programs.  It is Christian-based, with a strong focus on sportsmanship and Christ-likeness.  Competition is low key, and encouragement is high.  It is an excellent program for younger kids, or for kids who may not be real athletic by nature.  For our family, it is also wonderful because all 5 kids can play at the same time, as practices and games are at the same field.  

Another difference is that the Upward soccer program we participate in is playing games of 5 versus 5 players, and no goalies.  

To have my own basketball team, I would need 6 kids.  To have my own baseball team, I would need 9 kids.  Typically, to have my own soccer team, I would need 11 kids.  But, with this season's Upward Soccer, I can have my own team with just 5 soccer players!

How fun is that!

Technically, my children do not all play on the same team.  They are different ages, and they are placed on teams based on age category.  All have identical jerseys, though, because Upward uses reversible jersey's to distinguish between home team and visiting team.  So, really, I am just pretending they are my team.

My real team this season is a team of Kindergartners and 1st graders.  I signed up to coach.  Yes, I finally put the "Coach" back in "Coach Mom."  It has been a while.  I coached soccer when Jersey #1 was in kindergarten.  I am coaching again, 5 years later, when Jersey #4 is in kindergarten.  My how time flies...

Jersey #4 and Jersey #5 are both on my team.  I asked for permission to register Jersey #5 for soccer, even though he is not of kindergarten age, because I knew he would feel left out with all of his siblings playing soccer.  Plus, with his size, I knew he would not stand out oddly.  He enjoys the game of soccer, but definitely tuckers out faster than the other kids on his team, including his sister.

I am completely enjoying soccer season this Fall.

The weather is great for it right now.  (Although we can expect it to become much colder as the season progresses).

I enjoy washing an entire load of uniforms.  5 jerseys, 5 shorts, 10 socks, 1 coach shirt.

I have a whole bin in the hallway, dedicated to soccer gear.

We come home from practice/games and air out the cleats and shin guards on the front porch.  Decorating in soccer gear?  Why, yes we do!

I enjoyed playing soccer when I was a kid.

It is fun for me to see my own children enjoying soccer too.

Plus, I get to coach, and enjoy it with them.

I Laughed

On Friday afternoon, I laughed.

It was a great feeling.  A big, hearty laugh.  To feel that much humor and amusement.  To enjoy the topic of conversation, and the company, and the moment.  It was awesome!

I have been thinking about that laugh ever since.

Something changed inside of me when I laughed.

For a moment, I allowed myself to enjoy life again.  I put my guard down.  

It has been a while since I have felt that way.  Certainly, the first time this year.  Possibly the first time in a few years.

The impact that moment of spontaneous laughter has had on me has been huge.  On some academic level, I am sure it signifies an element of acceptance in the grieving process.  To be able to accept life the way it is, and to continue forward is a nice point to achieve.  To enjoy life again.  To have joy again.  It has been a while, and it feels good to feel that good again.

Personally, I love to laugh.  So, to finally achieve that ability again, was incredible.  I feel like I have conquered something.  Conquered sadness?  Conquered grief?  Conquered disappointment?  I have no idea.  But, all of a sudden, I feel like a warrior.  New doors and new emotions have been re-opened to me.  I do not fully know how to describe it, but I absolutely love it!

That element of laughter returning to my life has drastically improved my attitude.  

In an instant, I am Ok with the way things are going in my life right now.  Of course, it is not ideal.  But, it is still good.  I can live, and grow, and be.  I am no longer just trying to survive crisis.  

I can count my blessings again.  They are abundant.

My children were so surprised by my laughter.  They just stared at me with puzzled expressions.  A couple children asked me if I was Ok.  Jersey #1 even asked The Referee if I was Ok.  We both had to assure her that I was just fine, and that I was just laughing.  I laughed myself to tears, and that really freaked the kids out.  They are used to seeing me cry.  They were not sure what to do when I was crying and laughing simultaneously.  

Tears of joy.

It has been a long time since I have had those.

What a difference laughter makes.

Tunnel Vision

It probably would have made more sense if I had written all throughout my journey this summer.  There is so much growth happening in my life.  I don't always have the opportunity to sit down and put it all to words.

This summer was one of the busiest seasons I have ever faced.  That says a lot coming from me, because I know how to fill a calendar to the max.  I started out the summer with the plan of having a relaxing time, and a few activities.  The way it actually went was to go, go, go!  Looking back, I see that being THAT busy had a protective quality.  I was too busy to wallow in self pity.  I was too busy to think about all that I have lost this year.  I was too busy to spend much time in the depths of despair.  My maxed out calendar had me putting one foot in front of the other and moving forward without taking much time to stop and think.

All along the way, there were lessons and instructions to ponder.  Only, I did not have much time to ponder.  So, the lessons stacked up, one on top of the other.  I would hear a sermon, or Bible lesson, and think "ooh, that is good stuff!  I need to meditate on that some more."  But, there was not much time for delving into it, before our next activity.  The next thing brought about another lesson, usually something that added to the previous lesson.  I am totally impressed by the way God wove these life lessons together, piece by piece, throughout my incredibly busy summer.

My attitude was not very good through it all.  I would hear sermon after sermon about suffering, and causes of suffering, and such.  But, I would always moan and sigh about how trials stink!  Let's face it, when I am in the depths of pain and anguish, I relate better to Job's wife than to Job.  I am quick to cry out, "Why me, Lord!?!"  "This is NOT FAIR!"

Of course, my attitude was addressed during our Sunday School lesson on the book of Hebrews.  I understood the references about God correcting us like a parent corrects a child.  That makes sense.  I correct my children in love too.  But, that type of chastening goes hand-in-hand with our sins.  Knowing that God loves me enough to correct me has not been very comforting right now.  During that class, a list was generated, explaining the different reasons that we endure trials.  Although some folks prefer to focus entirely on the category of chastening being due to sin, there are actually other categories that are relevant.  One category is taking a stand for Christ.  Tough times come to those who boldly stand in their faith.  The category that jumped out at me the most during this lesson was the category that trials come to us for a lofty purpose of God.  Whoah!  That really built on the church camp lessons that it may not all work out for MY benefit, but it will work out for God's plan.  

Sure enough, the scripture passage above all the chastening like children stuff, is at the very beginning of Hebrews chapter 12.  The end of verse 1 and beginning of 2 encourages:

"....let us run with patience the race that is set before us, 

Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith;"    

Verse 3 warns to consider all that Jesus went through, himself, to keep us from being weary and weak-minded.

The whole attitude adjustment came to me as we read verse 11:   

"Now no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, 

but grievous; 

nevertheless afterward it yieldeth 

the peaceable fruit of righteousness 

unto them which are exercised thereby."

With that verse I was struck by the awesomeness of God.  He gets it!  God understands!  Chastening is grievous, when it happens.  (And in my opinion, grieving sucks!)

I get it!  I understand!  AFTERWARD is when the point is made.  

These trials are miserable when we are in the midst of them.

But, the lessons learned, the ways we are changed, the "fruit" that emerges, is the good stuff.

The way to have a better attitude in trials and challenges, is to look forward.  I've been told to keep an eternal perspective, so that the trials of life here on Earth seem small.

To add strength to my new perspective, the author of the book of Hebrews goes on to comment in the last verse, that the point is to serve God, and remember that God is in control.  

As if that is not enough, Chapter 13, verse 6 adds, 

"The Lord is my helper, and I will not fear what man shall do unto me."

Step-by-step I see why I needed a better attitude about the trials in my life.  I am reminded that God is in control, and everything will work out for His purpose.  The focus should be to point others to Him.  With God on my side, I can courageously move forward through this mess I call my life, and not be afraid of what is coming my way next.  

The light at the end of this tunnel is not daylight.  It is an oncoming train.

This year's trials are not over.  I see that clearly.

Let's recap:  Rejected by my husband who blamed me for his chronic health problems.  Marriage destroyed.  Family broken.  Husband leaves the home to live alone, and I am an instant single mother.  Baby boy dies half-way through pregnancy.  Grieving SUCKS!  Husband goes numb from recent 3 generations of loss in his life---his grandfather, his father, and his son.  He is the last man standing in that line-up.  His eyes are opened to the fact that he is dealing with a very serious, chronic health issue, that is completely out of his control.  Thankfully, he is able to take responsibility for the way he tried to blame it on me, apologizes, and works to build a respectful relationship with me, which is a great benefit to our family as a whole.  He seeks treatment.  I work on forgiveness.  Just when I think there may be a glimmer of light in this horrifying situation, I am bombarded with the limitations of the illness, and the amount of crisis we are still in.  Financial crisis takes its turn to rise.  I take a hard look at my career options, and what my family needs me to do now.  (I won't even go in to how hard it was for me to let go of my career plans when my family needed me to be home, only to have that completely shifted again 9 years later...).  I think I see what direction I am suppose to go, and that gets tweaked to get me more employable, faster.    Even so, we are on the slippery slope to foreclosure and bankruptcy.  Once again, I am reminded about the limitations of this chronic illness.  The trials are not over...

Right now, I feel as though my life is in a tunnel.  I cannot see all around me.  I must just keep moving one step and a time, forward, and hope that I will eventually see daylight.

Being an optimist and a planner, it is really difficult for me to live in the moment.  I have not been able to make much for plans this whole year so far.  That has not improved.  Every time that something positive occurs, and I start to think we are in the home stretch now, I actually end up sliding a few steps back.  Every time that I think I have an idea of what path we are on, I reach a hurdle and have to divert.  It is not easy for me to relinquish control, but that is what I am being required to do right now.  

Let Go, and Let God.

"....let us run with patience the race that is set before us, 

Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith;" ---Hebrews 12:1-2

My faith is being tested and grown.  Conveniently, my Pastor is doing a sermon series on spiritual growth.  Even the visiting missionaries seem to have my spiritual growth in mind.  It is a God thing.  The purpose is to point others to Christ.  

I have been so puzzled by that statement, because I think how in the world will others see the love of Christ in my suffering?  This makes no sense to me.

And then, I had a friend bless me with words that rendered me speechless.

She started out, during our visit, by saying to me that she has had the most awful, heartbreaking, difficult life she has ever known anyone to go through.  She thought surely no one has it worse than her.

....until she met me.

I laughed.  It struck me as funny.

The next day, I happened to see her again briefly.  She could not wait to re-iterate her point to me.  She told me that what she was trying to say is

"You are the only person who has been through worse than me, and you still think Jesus loves you!"

I looked her right in the eye and answered, "I know He does."

She smiled and said, "Exactly!  And, that is what you give me.  I need to know that in the midst of my trials, Jesus still  loves me.  And, you remind me of that."

I was speechless.

If I had an emotional response, I am sure I would have been flattered.  But, I was so much in shock that I was in a stunned silence.  In my heart, I was thanking God.  I get it now.  I see the Kingdom perspective a little more clearly.     

I still don't know where I am going, or how all of this is going to work out in the end.  But, step-by-step, I keep moving forward through the tunnel, waiting for the day when the light at the end of the tunnel is daylight, instead of an oncoming train.

NINE

Jersey #2 is NINE years old!

I fall apart at age 9.  It really hits me hard.  I had a tough time the year Mackenzie would have been 9 years old.  I was really emotional when Jersey #1 was turning 9 years old.  

Age 9 means that half of childhood is over.

Those 9 years sure fly by fast!

With Jersey #2, I am going back and forth.  I am shocked and emotional because half of her childhood is already over.  Then again, I am joyous that she has survived for half of her childhood!  (Her heart condition used to be fatal by age 5, not that long ago).  

The first 9 years of childhood are the ones where kids are more dependent on Mom.  I am quickly learning that the next 9 years are a steady stream of letting my kids gain their independence....and seeing how much they accepted my influence as they make their own decisions.  From my current standpoint, I would rather be back in the season where I had multiple kids in diapers, toddling, and napping.  The 9th birthday is a huge wake-up call to the fact that I have to let my children grow into pre-teens, teenagers, and young adults.  They are growing up.  No fair!

Sure enough, Jersey #2 has embraced being 9 years old.  She has already started to pay more attention to clothes, and friends, and listening in when adult are talking.  She has even taken to spending some time alone in her room, reading, drawing, or thinking.  There are positives too.  She is becoming more responsible for herself.  She is becoming more helpful.  She is learning to express her disagreeing opinions, without being rebellious or defiant.  She is starting to decide who she is, apart from her parents.  The journey is not over, of course.  It is just changing focus.  It also appears to be accelerating.

To celebrate her 9th birthday, Jersey #2 wanted to go to a nearby amusement park, for the day, with her best friend.  (and, the rest of her family could tag along too).

Thankfully, her friend was available for a day of fun like that.  It actually worked out that her friend was able to spend the night the evening before.  Jersey #2 was very pleased with the way her birthday celebration went.

For a gift, she asked for a Chemistry set.  The Referee and I could barely contain our excitement that one of our children was taking such an early interest in science.  We told her a chemistry set was indeed a possibility for a gift.  She then told us she wanted the Chemistry set so that she could explode stuff!

We found her a nice Chemistry set, and Nana added a lab coat, goggles, and beaker to go with it.  We started referring to Jersey #2 as our mad scientist.     

Granny & PawPaw sent her a check for her birthday.  That is part of their tradition.  At age 8, the grandchildren receive the birthday budget in money for them to spend how they wish.  Jersey #2 knew this money was arriving in the mail, and anticipated how early could Granny be.  When I took her to the bank to cash the check, she asked for the amount in $5 bills.  As we were walking out of the bank, she said she thought the stack of cash would be bigger.  Then she commented that she should have gotten her money in $1 bills instead, so that it would be a bigger wad.

We enjoyed pizza and ice cream birthday cake...

Then, spent the next day having tons of fun at the amusement park...

My Hope Is Not In You

During our lunch date to commemorate our 14 years of marriage, my husband and I got into a small discussion about the current state of our marriage.  

Things do not look good.

We are living apart.  He has his own apartment and lives alone.  I remain in our home, and am raising our kids.  He provides 2/3 of his paycheck to support me and the kids.  We communicate well about the kids, and he visits them at least twice a week.  He is suffering from a very serious health issue and has to make major life changes to cope with it.  He no longer blames me for the status of his health, and has apologized for the original blame and hostility.  He praises me and encourages me in how I raise the kids, thanking me for giving them a stable, loving environment, in the midst of our broken family.  

Even though he is so kind with his provision, visits, and appreciation, he does not feel that he is capable of relationships at this time.  He just cannot be a husband to me right now.  He has been very honest about that, and has even said that he is not sure he will ever be able to be a husband again.  He does not envision ever being able to return home again either.  He is trying his very best to be part of the kids' lives, but he feels he fall short as a father as well.  

Sadly, the advice he has been given by coworkers and family has been more destructive than helpful.  The suggestions are very worldly, and focused on personal gain and selfishness.  None of it even comes close to following the Word of God, or doing what is right for the family, or even honoring commitments and vows.  He has been encouraged to get drunk, to have casual sex with a stranger, to get divorced, and to keep more of his paychecks for himself.  It is surprising to me that anyone would think these choices would be helpful to him in any way.  They all seem more destructive, and he has enough problems to contend with already.  Much worse, those choices bring harm to his children.  Anyone who knows him at all knows how his children are more important to him than anything else.  I guess that just goes to show how much his coworkers and family do not really know him at all.  Thankfully, he is not following such awful advice.

During our lunch conversation, he made a point to share with me that his brother believes he is unfairly misleading me.  Since he has no intentions of restoring our marriage and family, his brother has advised him to divorce me and make things final.  My husband assured me that he did not want to mislead me.

I chose to not comment about the fact that his brother does not know me at all, has not spoken to me at all, and is in no position to be assessing whether or not I am being misled.  I am only partially surprised at his insistence that his brother divorce me.  I am sure he believes it will make him look better to be the only brother still married.  That family seems set on encouraging my husband to fail.  It is sad. 

Instead, I communicated to my husband that he was not misleading me.  He has been quite honest with me about his thoughts about his health and our family.  He has been honest about his limits and his desires.  He has not promised me anything better, but instead tells me this is all he has to give right now....and may be all he has to give forever.  I am grateful that he is providing.  I am grateful that he is visiting the kids.  I see that he still cares about me and he really cares about his children.  I see things exactly as they are, and I am learning to be content with that right now.  

And, then, I looked him square in the eye and I told him that I believe the thing that he and his brother are both missing is the fact that

"my hope is not in you."

I am not sitting on edge, waiting for a sign from him that things are getting better or worse.  I am not reading more into my situation than is there.  I am not pressuring him to be something that he cannot be.  

My hope is in God.

I pray that my husband's health will be healed.  I pray that our marriage will be mended.  I pray that our family will be restored.  I know that God is fully capable of all those things.  

I do not know if God will heal, or mend, or restore.  I do not know if it will happen in time, or not at all.  I cannot pretend to understand why we are going through this trial right now.  But, I can see where each of us....my husband...myself....and each of our children....are growing right now.  God is molding us.  We are being prepared for something.  I do not know what the future will bring.  But, I do know that God is in control.  

I also reminded my husband that when people have kids, they don't get a clean break with divorce.  We have children together.  That will always be true.  So, even if he divorces me, he is still stuck with me, as the mother of his children.  Considering how important his children are to him, he is really stuck with me. (Ironically, "our song" is "Happy To Be Stuck With You" by Huey Lewis and the News!)

I do not know if I will get what I want.  But, I do know that God will see me through, and be with me every step of the way.

I did not come to this answer on my own.  I heard this comment spoken to me in the past.  I met a woman who had suffered the death of a child.  She was 23 weeks, 6 days along in her pregnancy, when she went into labor.  The hospital had a policy at the time that they did not try to save babies born before 24 weeks.  My friend tried to argue that by midnight her baby would be 24 weeks along, and that was just a few hours away.  The head doctor argued back that she could be off on her dates.  For some reason, the doctors did not think her baby would survive, and they did not seem interested in trying to save her.  A nurse spoke up and got the doctor to agree to let the nurse monitor the baby's status during the labor, to see if the baby remained alive.  That seemed acceptable, but the team of doctors took turns entering the room through the night to explain all the reasons why they did not think the baby could survive the preterm labor.  As my friend told me her story, she said it was as if the doctors were trying to convince her and her husband that there was no hope.  She then explained that the part the doctors were missing was that their hope did not come from the doctors.  Their hope came from God.  It turned out that their baby girl was born at exactly 24 weeks gestation.  She entered the world crying, and breathing on her own, which was a complete shock to the hospital staff.  She lived for 45 days in the NICU, until a skin infection took her life (a baby's skin is so thin at that age.  It is not as capable of protecting the body the way a full term baby, or older person's skin can perform).  The head doctor was not allowed in the room for the delivery, because my friend feared that due to his lack of desire to treat her baby, he may actually attempt to kill it instead.  Even after all that she had been through, my friend prayed that this doctor would have a change of heart toward the lives of the babies in his future deliveries.  Her story, and her explanation of hope, has stuck with me all these years.  

As I sat at the table, enjoying lunch out with my husband on our 14th anniversary, I listened to him explain how bleak our marriage relationship really is, and how he has been advised to just get a divorce and be done with it, in order to help me see that I am living on false hope.  

Immediately, my mind declared that MY HOPE IS IN CHRIST!

I tried to gently explain that I was not being misled.  I was not even believing things were good.  I do see how things are better, and I am happy to celebrate that.  I am happy to share the status of improvement with my friends and family, especially the ones who I know are praying for us.  Six months ago, my husband was in a state of hostility and blame, directed right at me.  I feel as though I have been walking through a living hell this entire year so far.  So much has improved in those 6 months.  The blame is gone.  The hostility is gone.  He is providing, and caring, and visiting, and communicating in truth.  He is soul-searching and taking responsibility for his own health.  He is being kind toward me.  We can talk and communicate about the kids and about our past and present life.  We can even dine together and enjoy the delicious food.  

But, my hope for our future is not in any of those positive changes.  My hope is not in his ability to mend or find stability in his health.  My hope is not in time healing all wounds.  My husband is not my source of hope.

My God is my source of hope.  

No matter what happens to our marriage, to our family, and to our life as each day passes into the future, I know that God is in control.  

  

       

The Toughest Week. Ever.

This has been the toughest week of my life.

It started with Sunday, July 1st, the day that my baby boy, Titus, was actually due to be born.

The middle of the week, Wednesday, July 4th, was our wedding anniversary.  14 years.

My baby boy is dead.

My husband moved out.

Needless to say, this was not a week of celebration.

The trouble with the pain of this week of grief is that it occurred later in the grieving cycle, so I did not have the benefit of shock or numbness to cushion the pain.  I went to new depths of darkness.  It was awful.  

This was one of those weeks when I felt as though I was walking through the valley of the shadow of death.....and God was walking right there with me.  Everyday, every time I turned around, I could see the hand of God in my life.  As much pain as I felt at the time, I still thought that was incredible.  I kept moving forward, one blessing at a time.

It did not help matters that I started off the week after a weekend of travel to visit family.  It was Jersey #4's turn to spend a week with my parents, so the kids and I took a quick overnight road trip to drop her off.  It is fun to visit Granny & PawPaw.  I actually got a good night's sleep, since I felt safe in my parent's home.  (I did not realize how poorly I was sleeping at home, being the only adult to protect the household now, until I rested so well at my parent's house).  

I also made a point to take the kids to visit my husband's grandma.  She had previously asked me to stop by and visit.  She wanted to see the kids.  She assured me that no matter what happened in my marriage, those kids were her great-grandchildren, and she welcomed us all as family.  I was glad to hear that.  I actually expected most relatives to react that way.  Unfortunately, I have been quite shocked at the hostility that has come my way, from my husband's family of origin.  His grandma confirmed the rumors and comments that I had heard so far, about what my mother-in-law and brothers-in-law think about me, and what they say about me.  For people who have never taken the time to get to know me, they certainly have a lot of negative to report.  It is sickening.

I spent the trip home pondering the comments and actions of my in-laws, over these last 6 months.  It was difficult to separate what was just them, versus how much my husband agreed with.  By the end of the trip, I was certain my husband felt just the same about me as they did.  I also pondered our deteriorating financial situation, and what options I have left.  I thought about the various advice that has been given to us.  It is incredible to me how the world wants to encourage families to break up, and husbands and wives to just cut their losses when they are unhappy, and pursue other relationships, revenge, legal battles, and alcohol-induced entertainment.  There are so few people who genuinely care about each of us individually, and our family as a whole, and actually want us to heal and mend and restore our family.  What an uphill battleground.

I woke up Sunday morning with the weight of the world on my shoulders.  There was no way I was going to win the battle that was taking place in my life.  I was too emotionally drained to take on the world.  Besides, my arms were empty, and the baby boy who I thought would bring me comfort during this battle, was gone.  I just could not see how I was going to fight another day.  It was Sunday morning, and I was suppose to get up and get myself and the kids ready for church.  I could not do it.  I could not face another face.  I had no social strength left.  The thought of talking to another person made me cry.  There was no way that I was going to be able to get through "hello," not to mention any other comment about how I was actually doing.  I could not even put into words what I was feeling, to explain it anyway.  Sunday morning is for worship.  I could not bring myself to go to church for worship.  I literally told God that I was a failure of a Christian, and could not even find the strength to worship Him.  I tried to get out of it.  I texted a friend to see if she could take my older kids to church, but she was not attending that day.  I did not have the strength to call anyone else.  I could not even speak to another person.  It was just too tough of a day, and I was too weak.

A friend was suppose to come over and try to fix my dryer in the afternoon.  I emailed him and cancelled.  There was no way I could handle a visit right now, even if it was a service to me.  I tried to see if the kids would consider skipping church.  They looked at me like I was crazy.  I have taught them well.  There was no good reason to miss church.  Of course, they wanted to go.  Who wouldn't want to go to church?  I laid out the plan that I would drive them to church, but that I needed a grieving day and could not go with them.  They accepted that.  They accept grieving.  Tears streamed down my face as I drove.  It was so painful to even be out in the world.  I wanted to be safe at home in my bed.  I managed to drop the kids off at church, and made it home with Jersey #5.  I told him he could play the Wii or watch a movie as much as he wanted.  He thought that was great.  I returned to my bed and cried some more.  

I prayed for peace.  I prayed for a solution.  I prayed for an end to my pain.  I prayed that God would help me figure out what to actually pray for, because I was so distraught I could not even figure out what my situation needed.  

I drove back to the church to pick up my kids, crying the whole way.  Geesh!  I never realized how difficult it was to go through the motions of life like that.  Driving took all of my remaining strength and focus.  The kids ran to the van right away, so I was able to return home without having to wave or speak to anyone.  When I got home, I went right to bed.  I was so exhausted from all of that crying and driving.  The kids knew their Dad was coming to pick them up.  I gave them instructions for lunch, and getting dressed for their visit.  

All of the convincing myself that my husband was of like mind to his family was immediately dissipated when he arrived at the door and inquired as to how I was doing.  It was obvious I was having a tough day.  The kids also shared that I was having a grieving day.  He could not mask his surprise when he heard I had not actually gone to church either.  He asked me what he could do for me, and what I needed.  He asked if I wanted to visit the cemetery.  I assured him and the kids that their plans to go swimming with their cousins was a good idea, and would give me a chance to rest and grieve without weighing them down.  I told the kids that I was just having a grieving day, and that I did not want them to worry about me, and I wanted them to go have fun.  They seemed to accept that explanation, and happily loaded up in their Daddy's truck.        

My husband took time to listen to the topics that were troubling me, and then gave me some wise advice.  He showed me a new perspective on how to view the way his family dislikes me.  He actually turned it into a positive thing.  He checked to make sure I had everything I needed for the afternoon.  Then, he surprised me by asking if I wanted to go out to dinner for our anniversary.  He said that 14 years of marriage, and 20 years together, is a long time.  He felt it should be commemorated in some way, similar to visit a cemetery on the anniversary of the death of a loved one.  The analogy made me laugh.  It is morbid, and doesn't usually relate to marriage.  But under the circumstances of this year, it seemed so fitting.  I told him that it was the thought that counted, and I was flattered that he had the thought in the first place.  I offered to find a babysitter.  Then, I reassured him that his taking the kids for the afternoon was a good thing, and I would use the time wisely to rest and get a grip on my emotions.  

It actually did me wonders to have a plan for our anniversary date.  I suspect that day would have been horrific if I did not have some way to commemorate it.  Titus' due date was tough enough on me, without a plan to commemorate it.

All afternoon, I napped.  And napped.  And napped.

I woke up and ate at snack, then napped some more.

I had a lot of exhaustion to release, mental exhaustion, physical exhaustion, and emotional exhaustion.

I finally woke up rested.  I had a new perspective on my pain.  I was going to take things one step at a time, attempting to keep moving forward each day.  I prayed every step of the way.  

Hanging Up the Washing

My dryer went on the fritz, and left me with a huge mountain of dirty laundry.

I'm talking a very tall mountain.  Sheets, blankets, and towels galore!

We have been swimming for the past 2 weeks, in addition to the fact that I have some bed-wetters.  Add that to the fact that it took me a few days to realize the dryer really wasn't functioning properly.

(Ok, when the mountain of laundry grew taller than the counter, and started blocking the back door, I had to admit there was a problem here.)

So, today I rigged a quick clothesline with some rope, across the window bars in front of our house.  The front of the house gets a tremendous amount of sun and heat.  The backyard has dogs who would love to pull down the laundry and chew on it for sport.  

I started washing load after load of laundry.  I would wash and hang 2 loads of linens for every 1 load of clothing.  The clothing went into the dryer and spun for an absurd length of time before it would dry.  

The response to my situation has had me entertained all day long.

One friend recommended a laundromat.  

Two friends offered to let me come to their house and use their laundry appliances.  I have the sweetest friends.

My Pastor reminded me that there is a washer and dryer at the church that I could use.  That did give me an idea for how I could keep us in jean shorts, if it takes to long to remedy my dryer situation.

One friend offered to take a look at the dryer and see if he can fix it.

My husband offered to research the make and model to see if there are some easy ideas for how to fix it. (Neither of us are very handy at such things.  I had already tried cleaning out the vent hose, and some easy things, that were of no help).

My Mom mentioned that she was surprised that her daughters even had clothespins.  I had to confess that I did not actually own clothespins, so I was just draping the linens over the rope.  (Then again, I did not even have clothes line, so I was using a rope that was used to hang the pinata at the most recent birthday party.)  I have never actually had to live out the life of my poor Southern roots.....before today.  

As we were returning home from swim lessons this morning, I mentioned to the kids that since our dryer was not working properly, I was going to hang a clothesline and do laundry the old fashioned way.

Jersey #1 looked at me very puzzled and asked, "You are going to wash the laundry in a lake?"

Um, no.  The washer works fine, and we do not have a lake.

Jersey #2 asked, "Are you going to make your own butter too?"

I just started laughing.

I suppose when they think of "old fashioned," they are thinking Little House on the Prairie, or colonial American Girl stories.  

Jersey #3 inspired me with his enthusiasm about the situation.  He seems to look at the world with eyes for adventure and fun.  He offered to help me hang towels.  He excitedly announced when things were dry.  He repeatedly said, "This is SO COOL!"  

He even stood between rows of blankets and towels and jumped out at me as I walked past.  He giggled at my response, and then said that hanging laundry outside makes a great place to play hide and go seek.  

12 Years

She would have been 12 today.

Mackenzie.

Our firstborn.

She brought me into motherhood...

She took us from a couple, to a family...

She shares her birthday with her Daddy...

She arrived stillborn due to an umbilical cord accident...

Her tiny, precious feet, left huge footprints on our hearts...

We had to say goodbye, even before we had a chance to say hello...