Where is God?

I hear this a lot. It annoys me kind of, but it didn't used to. Used to be, I was the one saying it. Thinking it. Feeling it. Where was God on that morning in January when she didn't have a heartbeat? Where was God when I said goodbye to my beautiful girl, my only girl? Where was God when I couldn't get out of bed, when I couldn't be a mother to the 2 boys who desperately needed me to be? I know now though, that sometimes Heaven is silent. 

Sometimes the only evidence of it lies in the wonder of the night sky, the twinkling of the stars. The presence of something that can't be of this world. You look up and think to yourself...yea, that must be Heaven. Often though, it's hiding. It seemed to me that the only soul in the world that mattered had left this cold, hateful place and brightened up the streets of Heaven. Sometimes, when I'm holding her tiny urn, and I'm standing on the waterfront...the place where love and grief unite...it feels like purgatory. I'm begging for Heaven's gateway to open so I can see her again. It doesn't. 

Your urn is a promise that you are close to me, yet you still seem so far away. We celebrate your birthdays and angelversaries as evidence to those around us that we still care. The balloons float to the Heavens, and the flowers that celebrated your life wither and die. Perhaps the flowers are doing something we just can't. They've accepted that the only way to reach you is through death. They die so you may know we care. 

At night, I am plagued by dreams of what could have been, what should be have been. I love them, but they hurt me. The interactions with women and their daughters that I see throughout my days become transient memories of my own. I dream of things I've done with you. No, I haven't. Those are things experienced by another woman. A woman whose daughter didn't die. I cling to these dreams though, revel in them when they come. The joy is gone as quickly as it came, when the sun comes up. 

 I've spent a fair amount of time yelling at the skies, offering a trade for my daughter. I'd give my life for hers. Only the love of a parent could drive a person to do these kinds of things, but I do. As is always the case, the sky doesn't answer me. Heaven reveals nothing of it's incredible beauty, of the light she dances in. Instead, it's answer is rain. Perhaps a response of the angels, of my daughter...who cry because I do. 

In desperation, I turned my eyes back to God. He does nothing new, yet he provides me with the kind of continual hope that can only come from him. Someday I'll see you again. Someday there will be a sign. Regardless of what I say or do though, Heaven remains hidden, and you do too. 

On my best days, I fight the silence. On my best days, I have the courage to say your name out loud. It sounds majestic to me, and I talk about you. I put on the face that says "I'm okay", and I do the day to day. When it's over....I go home. You're still not in my arms, and I'm alone. I hide behind the walls in my room, and I live with the secrets I hold in my heart. I pray. 

It seems to me that you must be a step behind me. Heaven is so open and beautiful and without rush that you have no need to move quickly. Nothing is with urgency. Perhaps you are only a step ahead....always turning the corner before me. I think sometimes I can see the back of your curly head, just a step ahead of me, squealing with delight, tickled by the freedom that is Heaven, happy with the love that comes from Jesus. Or maybe neither is true. Maybe, just maybe...you walk beside us. Always hidden in plane sight, blending in with the trees as we make our way through this life without you. 

Sometimes, in the middle of the ordinary, I catch a glimpse of a light in my minds eye. It's like you've dropped the lantern that lights your way. For an instant, I see your face. I see God. As quickly as you come, you are gone again, but you brought with you the hope that one day Heaven will no longer maintain it's silence. That you are up there, you are happy, and you are walking the streets of gold hand in hand with our Lord and Savior. For this reason, we carry on. We keep walking, we keep moving forward. We praise the Lord that watches you, that cares for you, and we pray for and thank God for the little moments when we get to see Heaven.

 

Something...

I blog a lot about Bella. I know I do this: I started this blog because of her. An outlet for my feelings, a way to talk about something that people don’t like to talk about that. I know it do it, and I can own it. Sometimes other topics really get me stirred up, and I feel moved to talk about them. Today, I’m going to write about a combination of the two…in something that has changed my heart. It’s been both healing, and absolutely destroying. It’s interesting how they can co-exist. The other night…after waiting for months, I watched the movie that the Stillbirth community has been very (im)patiently waiting for. Return to Zero stars Minnie Driver, who to be honest, I usually don’t really care for. Her movies are always just “so-so” to me, and I don’t follow them. I’m not sure if this movie is different because she acted in such a way that I actually believed her, or if it’s because the topic of the movie was so close to my heart. The scene is simple, really. A woman, who is very pregnant, finds out she is expecting a baby  boy. She and her husband are very excited for his arrival, and so in love with him. At 38 weeks, when she should have been waiting for him to make his debut, pains send her to the doctor where her worst fears are confirmed. There is no heartbeat. This is first heart-wrenching moment of the movie. She pleads with the doctor, begging him to check again….begging him to find the heartbeat that wasn’t there. I can relate to that. Oh boy. The rest of the movie follows her struggle with grief, with coping, with social situations, and eventually with being pregnant again. I can relate to those feelings too. At one particular part of the movie, a woman is talking to her about God. This woman is going on and on about everything happening for a reason, and “God’s Plan”. This part of the movie hit me so hard that I actually was crying and laughing at the same time. I remember giving up on God after the loss of Bella. I remember crawling into a hole and refusing to come out of it. I remember being down as far as I could get and not WANTING to come out, not wanting to be saved. I remember that hurt. At one point in the movie, the main character said something that had run through my head so many times it was actually kind of scary. I can’t remember or find the exact quote, but this is the best summary I can give you. She looked into this woman’s eyes and asked her how it was in God’s plan to have her suffer a loss so great that it caused her to lose her faith in God. Wow. I was so floored. Wait a minute, you mean other people are feeling this too? This happened to someone besides me? I couldn’t believe it. Once I got over the shock of what I heard, and the laughter died down, I began to cry. How had I been so blind? How had I been so stupid? How had I allowed myself to walk away from Jesus, when I needed his arms to hold me the most? Why didn’t I realize then what I know now? God’s plan for Daniel and I was to have Owen…something that never would have been if we’d had Bella. God gives us the tools we need to endure the suffering. Why didn’t I realize then that he was holding me? Why didn’t I realize that I survived because she did not? There are so very many things I would do differently if I could go back in time and change things. I tell myself often that I would bring her back, I would save her…but the honest to God’s truth is that I wouldn’t. Nothing I could do or could have done would save her life…if she hadn’t died that way, she would have died another. I can own that now. This movie was healing for that purpose. Towards the end of the movie, we watch her give birth to her baby boy. We watch her push…and push and push…and he won’t come out….he’s not helping her. We watch her break down, plead with him…tell him that it’s ok…that she loves him…that he can let go….we watch her agonize, and then I agonize with her. I remember this. This is familiar to me. I remember pushing out a baby who I knew wouldn’t respond to me. I remember that. And then…there he is. He’s small and purple and quiet. He doesn’t cry…and she doesn’t expect him to….and we watch. We watch her go through the motions…she’s there but not really. I remember that too. I wish I had the pictures, I wish I had the memories depicted in this movie but I don’t…I hate that. Those are the things I’d do again. Those are the decisions I’d make for us and not for the time and comfort of others. And so, I walk away from this movie changed. How often does a movie truly change your life? I walk away from this movie knowing that I really am not alone. Every line of dialogue was something I had said…something I had thought. Much of it was things Daniel had said to me. I proudly say that my relationship with Daniel emerged stronger rather than weaker for having lost her…neither of us cheated or hated the other….we came together and we grieved together. I’m proud of us for that. We are 1.5 years into our rainbow baby, and 3 years into our grief process and we are still, at times, learning exactly how to do it all. We learn what kind of parents we want to be, we learn what kind of bereaved parents we need to be. We do it together. But now we know that we aren’t alone. It’s not just us. We are the 1 in 4, but we aren’t the only ones. There are 1 in 4’s everywhere…learning to live again…and understanding that that’s okay. If you’ve lost a baby or even if you haven’t….you NEED to watch this movie. It’s beautiful, it’s moving, it’s amazing. I’ll be watching again SOON.

Happy

Happy isn't a thing, it's a state of mind. You can't have happy, you just are. Since its not something you can possess, you have to want it. You have to be happy on purpose. This is not always easy. When you wake up in the morning, you have to choose to be happy. You have to choose to not let the events of the day tarnish your ability to be happy. So often, having a positive attitude is instrumental in having a happy life. How can you be happy if you have a negative outlook on everything that happens to you? Sometimes we get so wrapped up in the bad things that happen to us that we forget to rejoice in the fhings that are amazing.
This is the part where youre going to hear about my faith. No one is forcing you to read it, its just MY truth. It may not be yours. There is only one way to happiness.  At least, the real kind. It comes through an honest,  raw relationship with Jesus. It comes from putting in the time. It comes from letting go of of the show, and focusing on the reality. If the rest of the people in the world see that you are prayerful and full of thanksgiving, but you are not, you are only doing a disservice to yourself. Happiness can not be achieved by pretending to have it. Saying that you said a prayer and actually saying one are different. Be comitted to your relationship with Christ. Seek Him, seek enrichment in life through Him anyway you can get it. Place your worries and anxieties in Him. The Bible tells us that He has it under control, and can handle anything. So why don't we believe that? You can choose to trust the Lord and let him guide you, care for you, and provide for you, or you can dwell on your situation.You can complain, you can whine, you can pout. God sees the pain you feel, put he also knows your plan. He knows your pain because he allowed it for you. Each ache, each pain, each loss, ech distress. They are instruments in the grand plan that is our lives. Perhaps they define who we will be in the next life.
The point in this, in my feeling, in my faith is simple. If you must become the change you wish to see, you have to start by making the decision to be happy. When I was younger, I read a quote that said Be Happy On Purpose. It didn't say to be happy when something good happens to you, or see what the day will bring. It said ON PURPOSE. Roll out of bed, let your feet hit the floor and decide that regardless what life throws at you today,  you will enjoy it. You will be happy because you are alive.Its not always easy to stay positive, to not let the world get you down. But when you put the hard work into it, you find that youre smiling more, laughing more, and taking joy in even the mundane day to day stuff. Im not naive enough to think that this doesnt apply to me too, and so its time to make some changes. Its timd to make a bigger effort to be happy, and do it on purpose. I hope you will too.

Bereaved Parents-RANT

As a bereaved parent, I am always looking for people who "get it". I'm always scouring the internet on the days when I'm overwhelmed and upset. I'm looking for forums where I can talk to people about the hurt I feel over losing Bella....people who are feeling the same things. I started following a page recently, and I won't mention the name of it, because that's not my style, but I really think this page sends the wrong message to mothers, no, parents, who are facing loss. You can search "pregnancy and infant loss" on the internet and find hundreds of heartfelt poems, pictures, and thoughts. You can find just as many full of jest, cynicism, and sarcasm. I say those are written by people who have never lost a child. If you look hard enough though, you can also find, in that search, an awful lot of anger. Here's the thing. You can sit down and have a conversation with me about Bella and know that I miss her. There's no denying it. Looking at her pictures still bring me to tears. Remembering her kicks still bring a smile to my face. But I'm not angry. I'm not bitter. This page...for mother's who have lost their children is such a negative environment. Why would I, as a parent on the mend, want such negative energy being thrown at me throughout the day? I'd be lying if I said that I didn't spend a long time in a bad place about Bells. Hell, if you go far enough back, I think this blog might even hold some proof of that. I had a lot of anger toward God, I had a lot of trouble with figuring out my faith, how it fit into what was happening in my life, and how to move forward. I struggled with people telling me "Everything would be ok" and "Everything happens for a reason". My ultimate decision was that I didn't have faith. I decided that any God with as much power and might as the one I'd heard about wouldn't have let my daughter die. It took me a long time to "get right with God" I guess. It took me even longer to get right with myself. 
      A mistake that this particular site is making, that I think many bereaved parents make is that they are bitter, and to be honest, a little bit naive. There are a few facts about losing a child that we just have to deal with. I'll share them with you now. 

          1. You have to be a parent, but you don't get to have a child. 
I think this one is probably the hardest of the pills to swallow. People will ask you how many children you have. If you're like me, and have more than one, you can just answer "4" (in my case) and people will keep walking, without much more thought into it. If your loss was your first, then you have a whole other beast to deal with. You have to deal with the questions, the comments, the looks. People can be cruel, and they can be insensitive. Most other people don't consider you a parent if you never got to take care of a child...but that's not true. 
          2. People are going to console you, and they have no idea what to say.
What can they really say? I mean, lets be honest. No matter what you say to me, you don't get it. People who offer condolences aren't doing it because they want YOU to feel good, they are doing it because THEY want to feel good about a particular situation. This is the reason why Christians give you our unsolicited blessings, and prayer. Even if you don't believe in God and you don't want it. When this happens, take it for what it is. Be thankful for their intent, and ignore the undertones, Christian or otherwise.
          3. Being a bereaved parent does NOT give you the right to be an asshole.
Yes, you lost your child. And that sucks. I get to write this part and mean it because I've been through it. Who are we to tell someone that their well wishes aren't important because they didn't say the right thing? We are part of a group that the vast majority of people would rather just avoid. It's an uncomfortable conversation to have with anyone. To be perfectly blunt, people just don't like to talk about dead babies. It's hard. And it's even harder when it's someone we care about, or who cares about us. Stop being an asshole to that person who offers prayers, or tells you that your child is in a better place. Of course you feel that the only good place is in your arms. Chances are, they probably feel the same way. They're saying what people say. You don't get to be a douche and be excused from that because your baby died. It's not good form. 
          4. You're going to be jealous of every woman who is or gets pregnant after your loss. 
Yup, it's true. How dare they get pregnant when you just lost your child? WHAT were they thinking? People should have completely abstained from sexual activity and terminated the pregnancies the second you lost yours. Right? Umm, no. This refers back to number 3. You are unfortunately part of  an elite group of women who have children in Heaven. (or in hell, or in prague, or limbo, or whatever it is you believe in. I for one, believe my daughter walks the streets of gold. I think that's pretty awesome.) And that sucks. Trust me, I know. Something we have to learn is that not everyone has to experience this kind of pain just because we have. In fact, if we have learned anything from losing a child, it's that we shouldn't WANT ANYONE to experience this kind of pain. EVER. 
          5. It DOES get better when you have another child.  
Ahhh, the rainbow baby. The light in the darkness, the smile to your frown, the sunshine to your rain. And yes....that's exactly what they are. It really does help when you have a healthy baby. I'll tell you why. Your body is triumphant! YES! I DID carry a baby to term. YES! I did successfully deliver a living, breathing child! YES! I DO get to take this one home. And then you do. You get to use all that baby stuff that's just been sitting in the closet. You get to use some of those baby clothes, and baby blankets that you had hidden in the closet. You get sloppy baby kisses, sleepless nights, fevers, stinky butts, first smiles, first laughs, first teeth, and first steps. You get all of those things that you missed when your baby died. All of those things you should have had. Your home is no longer full of unused baby stuff...it's full of baby stuff with purpose. Full of baby stuff used for a baby who can change your life. 

My Very OWN Rainbow Baby

 
          6. Everything DOES happen for a reason- even if you don't want it to. 
This is a big one for me. This is something I keep hearing: "It's easy for you to say everything happens for a reason because YOU didn't lose YOUR baby." Let me just throw this out there. You don't have to believe in God, or divine intervention, or destiny in order to use successfully the mantra that everything happens for a reason. BECAUSE IT DOES! If your baby died it was for a REASON! Isabella did not die because God needed an angel (well, perhaps she did, but that's a religious viewpoint), Isabella died because my body produces an anti-body. This anti-body attacks the placenta until eventually it breaks it down. At 23 weeks gestation, my body won the battle against the foreign object that was my daughter. The reality of it is that my Bells died because my body failed her. I've come to terms with that, as hard as it is. But I'm also smart enough to realize that there WAS a reason. We don't get to be naive just because we've lost kids. It doesn't work that way. 

 Perhaps I got a little too comfortable up there on my soapbox. I blame my papa for that, he's who I learn it from. I guess what my message in all of this is, is simply this: No, it's not easy to be a parent of a child who has died. They are easily forgotten, there are so many things we miss out on, it's sad, we are broken hearted. But just as the wounds of losing those close to us do, this heals. Time heals it...time makes it better. Stop being so negative about something which you can not change. What service is it doing to wallow in self pity? What good does it do to be angry and bitter? How are you being helped by alienating your self with entitlement and hatred? Thanks to a lot of soul searching, a trip, and the pushing of my family, I got in touch with God again. (That's a whole other blog post entirely, and one I've been toying with for months now.) But maybe that's not for you. Perhaps you don't believe in something bigger than yourself, or that your daughter could be in that place. As for me, I believe my daughter is in the lap of Jesus, who loves her better and more purely than I ever could. What on earth could be better than a life of peace, and perfection? Whatever you believe in, know this: The people who are offering condolences are doing the best they can. Don't get so caught up in your own grief and bitterness that you lose sight of the fact that you need ANYONE who is willing to listen, ANYONE who is willing to take the time to say ANYTHING about your child. Don't believe that? Take a day digging in the depths of bereavement forums. "I'm posting this here because i can't post it on my page, no one likes to hear me talk about my son." " I just wish someone would say her name." "Why does everyone cringe and get quiet when I talk about him?" Learn to be less bitter about your situation and more grateful for the things you DO have. Love, support, guidance. You could do with a lot worse, even if you don't believe everything happens for a reason. Maybe, just maybe....you'll be in a better place too.

It's Christmas!

It's that time of year again. Yea...that time of year. It came a little faster than it usually does, it seems. Halloween is over, Thanksgiving is has long since passed, and Christmas is now only days away. Will this year be different than the last ones? Will I find the Christmas magic I feel like I've been missing? Hmm, did I ever really have it? These days, more often than not, I feel I have experienced only two holiday seasons. While I have physically lived through far more than that, emotionally, there have been only two: The ones before and the ones after Isabella's death. Those two seasons are, in themselves, so very different. 

Looking back, I know what my focus USED to be on. I remember being a child, and even into my early adulthood where all I REALLY cared about were the material things in this world. What would I get? What did I want? What would make me the happiest? Once I was an adult, and after I had had Jason, my focus shifted. I was still focused on the material things, but was now no longer interested in them for myself. What did he want? What would make him love me more? How would I manage to pay for all of it? Eventually the other boys came along, which really just intensified those feelings that I was already having. After all, that made that many more people I had to be materialistic for! I always finished the holiday thinking something was missing, thinking I had done something wrong.  I could never truly figure out what that something was, and by the time I did, the holiday season was over, and we were moving on. Whatever it was that was missing would have to wait until next year...at least.

In 2011, just after that aforementioned holiday season, Bella died. My world, which had been chugging along at a solid, steady pace, stopped dead in it's tracks. Everything that used to be important to me no longer was, and things that used to seem so crucial were now so trivial. How could those things have been such a big deal?  Oiy. To say my heart was broken was an understatement. There truly is no appropriate term for the loss I felt, for the hole that was inside of me. I never thought for a minute that I could heal this broken heart...that i would recover from this pain. I fell into a pit of deep despair, of darkness, and destruction. I knew eventually I would have to come out of it, and when I did, I'd be reborn.

That first set of holidays was easily the most difficult. That feeling when everything is still numb, and you're still trying to come to terms with the reality of what is. The pain that was her death was seeping in slowly though, no matter how hard i tried to fight it. Before I could blink it was Halloween, and the horror of what I had lost was ready with a snow shovel to plow me in the face. We went to the pumpkin patch, as we do every year, and i bought a pumpkin for her anyway, though she wouldn't get to carve it. It was a tiny one, but it was hers.  Thanksgiving came with Christmas on its tail, bringing an empty space where her high chair should have been, presents for my baby who would never be, and silence where once I had laughed. I was sure it could not get any worse, but life always surprises, doesn't it? Then as the decorations went up, reality hit hard and was more than I felt I could bear.  I began wallowing in everything she'd never get to do, everything we'd never get to do with her. Those feelings have a way of sneaking up on you, and owning you, ya know? I would never get to pick out the perfect christmas dress for her to wear. I would never see her toddle down the hallway towards a Christmas tree overflowing with Christmas presents. I'd never see her grin at Christmas lights, or laugh as she chased a ball around the hallway. I'd never buy little girl presents especially for my one and only princess. I'd never hear her laugh, or say Merry Christmas, or see Santa for the first time. Never. And I'd NEVER, EVER enjoy the holidays again without her....or maybe even life...never.

The next year, I focused on just doing enough to get through, just enough to say we participated in Christmas for Jason and Logan, but my heart was never really in it...i just didn't feel like being in the Christmas spirit. I hung Bella's stocking right beside the rest of ours, illuminated her special candle to include her in our celebrations, and smiled cheerfully at everyone who offered us their joy filled "Merry Christmas!" And as I spread my Christmas cheer and goodwill toward men, working my humble job, bringing a Merry Christmas to the residents at our facility and making them feel at home, I had only one thought in my mind. It became my mantra: “If I can just make it through December, I will be okay.” I was no longer focused on the material side of the season as I had been in my younger years. In fact, I was no longer focused on the season at all. I wanted it over.

And so, here I am, on what will be my third Christmas without her. My third season of joy, my third year of fa-la-la-ing, my third year of Bella's physical absence. Reading this, you probably think you know where this is headed. You think I'm going to tell you that this year is going to be just like the rest of them.You imagine I'm gonna tell you that it never gets better, that there is no such thing as healing, and that as grieving parents, we will always be bitter and angry. You might think I'm going to tell you that we have a right to be, especially at a time when most families are celebrating a time of giving and we are remembering what has been taken away. If you're thinking those things, you'd be wrong. It took me a long time to get to this point, but here it is. Hold on tight.

Not long ago, I looked deep into my soul, and I saw a light there. I went to church, and that light turned into a fire. I found something beautiful. I found faith. The next morning, I woke up and things looked a little different. Overnight, it seemed, my world had gone from a dull, dingy gray, to a beautiful rainbow. It was beautiful. Later that day, I heard someone in my home softly singing Christmas carols. How dare they!? What were they thinking?!? But . . . It was me. That evening, I made the decision to do crafts with the kids again! We'd do an advent calendar! A lesson of Baby Jesus, and the light that saved me. I bought Randall the Reindeer (Which is like Elf on the Shelf but less creepy!) Suddenly, it hit me. No matter how guilty I feel in acknowledging it, I have to tell you, I am looking forward to Christmas. I'm looking forward to celebrating, and Santa! Oh . . . my . . . GOD. How can this be? Why is this happening?

After much thought over the situation though, I think I know why. I think I spent the holidays of the past looking through a lens that only focused on black and white, on the physical, on that which can be seen and physically felt. The lavishly wrapped gifts, excessive food, amount of money spent, and glittering (sometimes gaudy) lights on the tree. The next two were spent looking through a lens that was distorted and scarred by grief. I focused on what was missing rather than on what was still here. I think I wanted it that way. Now though, I think I've learned to do something mroe than just deal with the memories, I've learned to enjoy them. Although they can at times be bittersweet, I'm dealing with the fact that feeling emotion is really no different than feeling passion about something. It's  lighting a fire in my soul. She's a beautiful memory, and painful one. I have to remember her, miss her, celebrate her, and do that all at the same time. This year, as the cards fill the mailbox, and packages find our doors, as Christmas Carols take over the radio, and Santa is close to making his debut, I will choose a different lens, a lens that captures that which we cannot see or physically touch. A lens that goes beyond.

Of course, not everything will change. I will still hang Bella’s stocking beside ours, do my best to help those in need, light candles in her memory, and all of the other things that have made the last two years bearable. But this year, I hope to do these things with joy rather than with bitterness and sorrow. This year, I want to grasp the hand of a friend in church, kiss the cheek of my sweet son on his first christmas, and hold my boys close while they drift off to sleep, to a place where only children can dream. I want to watch Santa hold my wiggly, silly toddlers in his lap. I want to sing “O Holy Night” on Christmas Eve to a congregation full of people I trust when I haven't truly felt a song in my heart in years. I want to feel the Christmas that we cannot see.

This year, I want to remember the person I really am, the one I used to be. I want to enjoy the months ahead of me. Not because I need to or because someone else says it’s time to move on or that I'm obsessing—but because—well, because I can. This year, I want to find the magic I feel I've always been missing out on....and I want to do it before it's too late.

Faith

It's been awhile. I've been lazy about the blogging thing. To be honest, I've been down. Down about a lot of things. It's the holiday season, and immediately following the holiday season is Bella's birthday, and we all know what that does to me. In addition to that, I've kind of forgotten who it is I am. I'm so much the mother that I forget something that I used to be something else. Who was that person, anyway? 

                           So here's what you missed: 

This past weekend, I went away for the weekend to Flagstaff with the amazing women at Chandler Bible Church. It was a Women's Retreat. A time to get away from the children, husbands, and hassles of life and spend some time with God. We spent the weekend at Little America hotel, it was simply beautiful. That's to say the least, really. For me, I wasn't sure what to expect, but I knew that I was DEFINITELY nervous. What would these women think of me? Would they judge me a little because I don't know how to pray? Would they feel sorry for me because I don't have a relationship with God? Would they pity me for not knowing Christ the way they do? The way they always have? I went into this thing feeling very insecure, and really....uncomfortable. The first night was an ice-breaker. It was getting to know these women who I see every Sunday on a personal level. Sharing some little known facts about me, and learning some about them. Then we got into the thick of things with the beginning of our message. Our speaker, who is also the Worship Team leader of the church, is truly an amazing soul. She spoke in a way that made me feel like I could relate to her, and I immediately began to relax. Perhaps this thing wasn't going to be so scary after all. She spoke about Change, and the impact that God has in the changes in our lives. I felt myself nodding along as she was talking, taking interest in the scriptures she was referencing. At the end of the first night....I was hooked, and couldn't wait to hear more.


 I'll stop here for a minute because I feel like I need to explain something. I have never been a believer in the Power of God. I never believed that he could move you. I never believed that he could cause you to feel something powerful in a song, or lead to you to read a certain passage in the bible. I scoffed at those who told me that the Lord spoke to them and told them to do something. I didn't believe it. Id never experienced it, therefore I didn't understand.

 Day two of our retreat found me awake at 545. bright eyed and bushy tailed, I was ready to take on the day. I did my hair for the day, I put on makeup and was ready to walk out the door early enough to call and chat with my little loves before we left. I got down to breakfast which was amazing, and we did some team building games, that were silly and meaningful at the same time. we sang and worshiped, and then it was time for the second part of our message. I was taking notes, writing down questions, and readying myself for research as she was listing many other places to go in search for guidance. she shared personal stories, she was really holding my attention. After that session was prayer groups. I felt my heart sink a little because I am no good at praying. It always feels forced and awkward and its hard for me where it might not be for others. As we got started though, there was no pressure. No one was judging me because I didn't know how, they were guiding me to learn to be better. It was uplifting. When we were finished, I shared with my group a little about the things id been through, and the reason behind my failing faith. I could feel the weight coming off. I ignored it a little, because the skeptic in me still didn't believe that God could make me feel this way. We had another session, where I found myself really relating. She talked about talking yourself out of your circumstances and leaving your life to God. I stopped and thought about all id been going through. Hadn't I been drowning in a pool of pity? Hadnt I been selfishly making things all about me? Could it be that THIS was what everyone was talking about? Is this the feeling that Hes talking to you?That it wasnt coincidence, you were meant to hear it? hmmm.

 That night we made jewelry, and spent the evening chatting and making friends. I felt happy, calm and peaceful. 3 things that I truthfully hadn't felt in a long time. During our 4 hour break, I took a walk in the woods and reflected on all that Id learned. Was I living a truly Christian life? No, I don't think I was. While I believed in Him, I didn't trust him. I didn't believe that he would provide. I believed I had to. I was akways making it about me. I could see that now. Sunday morning, I woke up feeling something different. I went to breakfast without many of the worries on my brain that you can usually find there. During worship, I sang those songs from my heart and I could FEEL the things I was always told I would. After our last session, we shared. This was my opportunity to get something off of my chest, and to feel free of what was holding me down. I talked about Bella. I said her name loud and proud, and I  admitted out loud more to myself than anyone else that I HAD been angry at God. I HAD lost my trust in him. I wanted Him to hold me and instead He let me fall. I cried. Hard. It was that really ugly, really painful cry. And I thanked them. For allowing me to be who I am. For teaching me and allowing me to hear the words and realize that Bella fufilled her job on Earth. For giving me a safe and loving place to figure it all out on my own.


 And so, I'm changed. I'm not perfect, I never will be. I will always fall short of the greatness and glory that is our Lord. But I am humbled. I realize that this life is not about me, but what he has in store for me. It is not for me to worry or fear, because it is out of my hands, it always has been. I am eager to learn more, eager to become closer to him, and to become the kind of Christian I want my children to be. I can never express to these women the gift they've given me, the impact they've had on my life. I'll be forever different because they took the time to care. And who knows, with my worries and troubkes with God....maybe I'll even be happy too.
 

 

My truth about motherhood

This morning, I woke up with a headache a little worse than usual. When I woke up this morning, I didn't want to be someone's mommy. I woke up this morning, and I wanted to block out the sunlight, ignore the "mommy!"s, and sleep my day away. I didn't, but I fantasized about it briefly. Later, about half way through my wake up coffee, they asked for breakfast, and I asked myself quietly why they needed to eat RIGHT NOW. Nevertheless, I put them off for another half hour, at which point i got up, and fixed them a bowl of cereal.  I changed a diaper, on my lap, without wiping his butt, and I chuckled to myself. I fought with two kids about nap time, which never actually happened, and then I laid one in his bed, and pretended for about 10 minutes that I didn't hear him. He very begrudgingly took his nap, and I said a quiet prayer. During the nap time that should have been, I ignored the laundry that should have been folded, and tried to take a nap. Instead, I refereed through fights and shrieks, and threats. I rolled my eyes, and thought for a minute about leaving them to their devices and checking later to see how it all went down. After their "naps", it was time to feed them lunch. I fed them raviolis, knowing they weren't going to eat them, and prepared myself for the fight that was coming. Again, I rolled my eyes, and wondered why I bother. I considered giving them the lecture that money doesn't grow on trees, and that they had to eat the raviolis, and then i decided...as i shoved dried fruit loops into my mouth that i wasn't interested in the argument today. I fed the baby his bottle, and counted in my head the number of hours until bedtime. I didn't change the baby the second that he peed, and I didn't feel bad about it today. I went into the bathroom with the intention of going pee, but instead just stood there, staring at myself in the mirror, marveling at how quiet it was in the bathroom. I briefly considered that my husband might have been onto something when he began his ritual of taking his phone AND his headphones into the bathroom. Right on cue, the handle starts to jiggle. Of course, I thought to myself, someone always has to pee when I'm in here.
   I told you all of that to tell you this: Motherhood isn't glamorous. It isn't always a walk in the park. It isn't always full of rainbows and sunshine. You see picture of new moms and they're all smiling, holding their newborns to their chests. The truth is, while there is a lot of that, there is a large portion of motherhood that ISN'T like that. What about those moments where your new baby has been crying for hours, and NOTHING you do is helping, and rather than keep trying, you put him in his crib, sit on your bed, and cry with him? What about those moments when your one year old throws up on his outfit after it took you a full hour to convince him to get dressed? Instead of changing him AGAIN, you throw some clothes in the diaper bag, and head off to the sitter, knowing full well she's not going to take him, and you'll be late for work, with child in tow. What about those mothers who tried for days, weeks, months to breastfeed? Suffering through the pain of knowing that you aren't providing for your child. Crying as she cries because you just can't get it right. What about that moment, when the house is dark and finally quiet, that you sit at the kitchen table, with your head in your hands....reliving that LONG day, and wondering if there's more to this life than ABC's and blocks? The mothers of teenagers who deal with the constant attitude and drama of teen angst...don't you ever wanna shut the door behind her as she heads off to school, mumble under your breath that she'll get hers, and then settle in the bathtub with a shot of tequila and a dark bathroom? These are the quiet thoughts that cross our minds, the thoughts we rarely share with others. These are the things you maybe say to your mother, if you're close, to your best friend, if she gets it...but the reality is, these are the thoughts that make us feel like bad parents. But they don't make us bad mothers. They don't change our ability to do the things our children need us to do, to provide for them. What they do, is make us real. They make motherhood the raw and true experience that it is! There are going to be a million amazing moments. You're going to be proud of him as he learns to walk. He's going to take his first steps.....right into your waiting arms. You're going to swoop him up, and kiss him. You'll tell him that you're so proud of him. Two weeks later, as you're cleaning up yet another broken glass, and scrubbing nail polish out of the carpet, you'll ask yourself aloud why you were so excited to teach him how to walk. There are also going to be a million moments like this. Days like today, when I'm frustrated and irritable, and wondering what possessed me to have 3 children so young, I tell myself that its important to remember that we're human. That these things happen, that this is life. It's beautiful, it's disastrous, it's chaotic. And it's perfect way.