Sunday, April 16, 2017


I've been meaning to share my thoughts "out there" for weeks now, but with days so long and nights so short -- now I can hardly get my mind to slow down enough to put my thoughts into a post.

Holy cow. No wonder. That was one whole sentence.

As I look at the past year my eyes usually fill up with tears. My heart breaks and I become numb. As a mother it's been humbling and eye-opening. So many times I've tried to find my voice and SPEAK to others. But what I find instead is mumbling nonsense. When it all comes down to it, my brain is fried. My heart is broken and my hands are hurting.  Ironically I've been having physical pain lately that can't be explained.  I can't help but wonder if it's my body telling my mind something. Slow down. However it's not like my life is going fast right now. If anything I feel like it's an ongoing repetition. (Some days there's sweet potatoes while others are filled with pasta.)

The physical pain has been in my feet and my left hand. I can't explain it. But it definitely slows me down. Emotionally​ I've been holding it together until I unwind with my husband. The hardships of my life right now seem enormous. The only thing that gets me from point A to B is hoping next year my breath will become calming.

The moments I'm dealing with cleaning up urine (because taking a year to fully train is not long enough for strong-willed four year olds), nursing while pooping, or hiding the fact I prefer chocolate over exercising makes me feel like a nonsense. I'm a robot. I'm the one every one goes to for everything. I'm the source of food, the calendar, the cooker, the planner, the cleaner, the driver, the laundromat, the one who they go to while you're showering even though the other responsible adult is sitting right there. I'm the multi-tasker. I'm capable of making dinner, doing dishes, folding laundry, working on ABCs, and answering preschool-aged questions at the same time.  I'm the one who looks at the clock five minutes after Daddy leaves and starts counting down the hours and minutes until he arrives back home.

My husband is probably tired of receiving texts that say "don't look at me too closely, I think I have yet to shower this week" or "I did XYZ, please acknowledge upon arriving home even though you won't be able to tell I deep cleaned XYZ."  Or one time I called, "please bring home pizza for us. I fed kids. I want coke now." Or that one time I grabbed our four-year old and took her on a walk since baby was crying for the past hour and I needed to step away. #teethingsucks

So many people tell you what to do or how to do it. As a mom you get so many opinions and advice on how to approach EVERYTHING. I've even been told my 4-year old is "normal". 😂😂😂😂😂

If one more person tells me they "get it" one more time I might go crazy. Do you? Really? You get what it's like to be me in my shoes? You know what it's like to wake up one morning and see your life completely different then what you expected? You found yourself with a 11 month old baby and miscarrying the second time. Being told your baby doesn't have a heartbeat? You know what it's like to arrive at the hospital and birth your fourth baby and realize it was your only non medicated birth?  You know what it's like to birth your first baby and told you are not allowed to get out of bed without a nurse to help you because you were given oxygen after passing out three times? Or what about day-to-day life? What is it like to watch other people have babies who happily play (you use to have one), while your current baby rarely does?

Or the feeling of missing out on who your lost babies were and how to move on with the baby you've been given without feeling lost or guilty? Or what about crying while holding your newborn at midnight who won't go to sleep (this went on for months)!

The past year has been like a hula hoop. Things start to swing in a good direction but something always comes crashing down. Potty training, clingy baby, tantrums (it takes us hours to get out the door), and emotional rollercoaster. I say something, I've said it wrong. Have you ever met someone like that? It can, no it IS exhausting. So many nights my husband puts her to bed so I don't say something I will regret later.

Who knows why she has decided it takes hours for us to leave the house. Because putting clothes on is not something she's willing to get help on, even though now she wants it, oh wait now she doesn't. And as soon as the door opens she giggles with freedom coming out of every part of her being. Seriously kid. We could of been out here an hour ago. But you refused. Everything!

Our good moments is what helps me through the really bad. The amazing moments make me tear up. The typical make me frustrated. The intense situations make me confused. The horrible make me feel incapable and lost.  It's humbling as a parent to know (and to say) that you are finding help. Not only for you but also for your child.

After so many years of working aside young children I have learned so many things. It led me to this moment. Realizing I know better than to continue this way.  It's not a bad thing to admit or to share that you need outside resources to help restore a relationship and be able to breathe again.

But I'm not broken because of just processing our daughter. I'm broken because I can't breathe through my every day life. I'm finding myself wanting space, wanting to hide, not able to enjoy good things in life.

I'm thankful for my loving husband who has always been here (especially this past year) as I process how life as a mom has changed. He has helped me realize who I am as a mother and acknowledging that what I am not, is okay.

As I continue to search for where God plays in to all this, I'm sure I'll find restoration and freedom. And peace. Oh my goodness. Peace. Rest. The moments I can't see my messy house, my dirty floors, my filled hamper, and hear my crazy kids I can breathe. My deep breath brings relief. But I'm ready for that feeling more often. I'm pleading to find it in every moment. Because in the stillness, He is here.

As we're getting closer to Easter (just hours away from church service I'm about to attend), I'm reminded of His Resurrection. Good Friday this year hit me like a ton of bricks. I already felt defeated. But then the light of it reminded me. He suffered. He knows. He's the only one that does. He knows what it's like to feel like no one "gets it". That it's just a typical tantrum. It's just a typical baby. It's just a typical feeling this time of year to feel so overwhelmed. He understands physical pain. He understands being mistreated. He relates with me on being criticized, misinterpreted, and unloved. He understands what it feels like to be alone. To say so much and response seem so little. (Because I didn't even share the extent of spiritually where I'm at this year.)  Easter brings on so much hope for us. And this year I HOPE it brings me a refreshing feeling of feeling His joy again.

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