It's Amazing

Today I heard one of the nicest things PC has ever said to me. He had been putting some laundry in the machine (in the garage), and came back in the house halfway through the job to tell me this, so I knew he was being very intentional about wanting me to hear it.

"Do you know?... I'm living IN my fantasy life." 

He explained further (and I won't even try to quote exactly, because I would get it wrong) how when he was young, and was unhappy with the way some things were in his family, he would "escape" by reading books about families that loved each other and helped each other. As he got older he would "escape" by playing computer/video games where you could be the hero, with big muscles and be in control of everything. He said that sometimes he goes back to the escape mechanism by default, and finds himself "hiding" from life... only to realize he doesn't have to do that anymore. 

"You've given me my fantasy life."

All the things he'd told me while we were going together about what he'd always wanted in a family, in a marriage, those are the things I have worked and worked and worked at trying to give him during the last year and a half. I wanted him to HAVE the loving relationships, to BE the hero, the provider, the protector for our little family, to ENJOY being married and coming home to us each night. I wanted to create a peaceful environment for him to come home to. I knew he wanted a HOME - not a house. I knew he wanted a WIFE - not a business partner. I knew he wanted a FAMILY - not disjointed, independent people living under one roof. And those are the things I'm working so hard to help facilitate and/or create. 

Hearing that I'm succeeding was... huge.

It's not just the boys that are healing right now.

The funny thing is, even though I haven't been in the same situations and sour relationships he has been, I think I know what he means. Because I keep catching myself suddenly thinking "Hey! I'm living the life I've always dreamed of!" 

I'm not a career gal anymore - even though I'm currently running about 4 home businesses at once. I'm not a music teacher anymore - I'm homeschooling two teen boys, yes, but I'm more concerned with teaching them about healthy lifestyles and relationships and a love for God. I'm not dealing with yucky customer service issues anymore - I'm dealing with yucky laundry and dishes. I'm not running back and forth between 2 or three jobs - I'm running back and forth between the grocery store and the post office and the bank and Ross and a few dozen other places. 

And I'm crazy busy some days. 

And I'm just plain crazy some days.

And I'm loving it. 

It's No Surprise

I saw this one coming from way back, so it's no surprise to me that bio-mom has left her latest husband. She started a pattern way back when, and it shouldn't be a shock to anyone to see the pattern continuing. How guys can get fooled into thinking it'll be "different this time" is beyond me. If she left her husband and abandoned her children, she'll do it again. And again. Those kinds of character flaws don't just leave. They get worse. Unless Jesus really gets a hold of someone's heart.

It seemed awfully suspicious when she moved back to her home state after living elsewhere with her latest husband... leaving said latest husband where he was. The excuses of "missing the boys so badly" just don't ring true when she moved halfway across the country from where they are. If the boys were honestly her motivating factor in moving, then she would have moved to be nearer them - not 2500 miles away from them. I hope the boys see this for what it is. But I'm certainly not going to point it out to them.

It's the Best of Times

No, really, I mean it.

Here's the bad news: PC has been out of work since October 30.

Here's the good news: PC has been home since October 30. 

See what I mean?

It's been absolutely lovely having him around the house. Remember all the trouble I was having with the boys and their math? (Or did I forget to blog about all that?) Well, he's taken it on. Yep. He is now the official math teacher. And not only has it made my stress load go way down in the mornings around here, but the boys seem to be responding well, and getting better grades. (Mixed feelings about that. It's great that they're doing better. It's great that it's a connecting time for them and their dad. But it makes me feel like one really crummy homeschool mom.) 

God opened up the doors a couple weeks ago for me to do some alterations work from home - ongoing. And, since I obviously can't absorb hours more work every week on top of what I'm already doing, PC has been helping with all kinds of stuff around the house to free me up and take some pressure off. Things like making bread, cooking dinner, doing laundry, mopping, etc. So not only am I getting to spend more time with my wonderful man, but I'm getting a bit of a break with some household stuffs. And the income from this side job is really good right now. 

Funny part is, the company I'm doing alterations for is opening a new location soon. Very near our house. And the head guy asked me a few days ago if my husband had found work yet. They're interested in possibly hiring him at the new location. Yeah, weird. But it would be totally like God to open up doors in such a funny way.

Stressful? Duh. I have no idea where the money is coming from to pay the bills stacking up on the printer. BUT... I had no idea where the money was going to come from to pay the bills I paid today. And the ones last week. But somehow, God made a way. And we're fine. No, we're MORE than fine. Because I genuinely believe we're right where God wants us for now. The bonding time, the relationship building that's going on, the lengthy talks PC and I have had about life as it is and about how we want it five years from now, the laughter, the lessons in trusting God... all of these things I am immensely grateful for. And I wouldn't trade this time for a big house and a fancy car. Not a chance. 

It's the best of times.

It's Laughable

Pretty sure I win the prize for worst wife of the day. Not only am I ever-so-attractive today running around in an old knit skirt and baggy denim shirt with holes and paint splatters on it, but I realized at about 4 pm that not only have I not done my hair today, but I HAVEN'T EVEN BRUSHED IT OUT. Mix that with feeling waddle-y pregnant and add a stuffy nose to the mix, and.... voila! You get a picture of what my poor husband has been looking at all day. I'M ONE OF -THOSE- SAHM's!!!! AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

I'll admit I'm laughing at myself today. Part of the problem was that I let myself sleep in today in an effort to shake this stinky congestion and exhaustion. (Think 10 o'clock. I can't even remember the last time I slept that late.) Sooo... waking up late and hitting the ground running... well, you know how THAT goes... ;)

It's the Same Story Over Again

The "magic birthday fairy" (a.k.a. bio-mom) called LM yesterday. For her typical once-every-four-to-six-months five minute phone call. On one hand I'm glad she remembered his birthday because I know he was excited about getting a phone call from her. On the other....... *sigh*..... I know this will mean more attitude and upheaval from him for the next week or two.

I know it's not nice of me AT ALL. But sometimes I really wish she'd just drop dead. And then I feel guilty. She's definitely NOT ready for heaven, and I don't want her going to hell. But I wish with everything in me she'd just go away and leave the boys alone. FOR GOOD. If she had even a smidge of a good influence on them, or even a hint of her contact being helpful or healing or positive for them in any way, shape, or form... I'd feel differently. As it is, she can tear things up for several weeks with a 3-5 minute phone call. It's completely ridiculous.

The immaturity and selfishness shown continue to amaze me. It shouldn't by now. But it does. 

It's not all about her. And she needs to be thinking about what is best for THE BOYS, instead of this random way she contacts them in moments when she is (apparently) feeling guilty for being a bad mother. I wish someone would kindly tell her to face the facts: she IS a bad mother, and she needs to just clear out of their life for good. No contact. Ever again. 

Like that will happen. 

She is honestly one of the most immature and selfish people I've ever had reason to come in contact with. Which means even if someone DID talk to her straight about the situation with the boys, she wouldn't make the right choices. She never has, and from what I can see, never will.

So we must deal with it as it is. 

FOWARD, MARCH! On we go.......

It's What I Love to Hear

I promised you a more positive follow-up post to my list of things to never say to a stepmom. And while it may be a bit overdue, here it is. Things TO say to a stepmom:

1) "I'm bringing dinner for your family tonight" - Okay, honestly, I've yet to hear this one in precisely those words. But the idea has been there. I have had several people bring over food that helped during times I was overwhelmed. One (former client from my music studio teaching days) brought over a ready-made casserole in a dish I could keep (she said it was a late wedding present), and included a stack of recipe cards of some of her family's favorite dishes (including the recipe for the casserole she'd brought us). Having tried and true recipes (especially the budget-minded ones) was lovely. I also had a friend give us I'm-not-sure-how-many-pounds of apples last fall, which was absolutely wonderful both for eating right then, and for making applesauce that helped provide fruit during a tight winter. Another friend brought over pounds of pears, made pear butter/sauce with me, and then left the full jars with me to use for my family.

I realize this particular point may not be understood by some people. After all, we'd all like someone to provide us with a dinner we didn't have to make ourselves. But the reason this means so much to stepmoms (or at least to this stepmom) is that being a new mom is challenging no matter the circumstances are. It seems to be customary to take dinner and food to a new mom who is just home from the hospital, but what many people don't seem to realize is, no matter what way your children arrive (and no matter what ages they are when they arrive) being a new mom can be rough. You're exhausted, you're physically drained, you're mentally fatigued. And maybe this one applies only to full-time stepmoms (I wouldn't know about the other kind) but bringing food/dinner over to lighten a stepmom's load is a huge blessing for her.

2) "I'll keep the kids for a couple hours while you grocery shop or go grab a coffee or... whatever!" - First off, having someone volunteer to keep the kids for any length of time is almost my idea of heaven. Much as I love my kids, time to be by myself is rare. Being given the chance to get away for a couple hours is sometimes a lifeline. But secondly, being given a guilt-free-card along with the offer of childcare is priceless. Sometimes having the space of time to get a coffee and just SIT - without any distractions, questions, bickering, complaining, chatter, etc - is wonderful. Other times, just being able to get groceries without having to drag everyone along and slow me down is a wonderful break. And while I appreciate the offers of specific help ("I'll keep the kids while you go to that meeting") offers of childcare without any qualifiers are especially meaningful, since no one but a stepmom knows what her biggest need at that moment is. 

One other related statement (which I could almost make into its own point) is an offer to keep the kids while PC and I have some couple time. This one is a rare gift. One, because it's hard to coordinate any sort of couple time to begin with in a step-family, and two, because people usually have their own schedules and activities that prevent them from helping with this one even when they'd like to. One of my favorite times along this line was an afternoon when a pastor friend called me up while PC was at work, said he needed help raking some leaves in his yard and wanted to borrow my boys. The clincher was the follow-up of "If it's okay, I'd like to take them out to pizza when we're done working and then keep them for a couple more hours so you and PC can have some time just the two of you." I'm pretty sure my jaw nearly landed on the floor. I called PC at work and asked him if there was any chance we could squeeze dinner out for two into our budget (after all, we don't get this opportunity hardly EVER). I was nearly giddy waiting for him to get home from work that evening. 

3) "You are a wonderful mother, and it's obvious the kids are thriving with you" - I nearly cry every time I hear this. And I actually do hear this one fairly often. There are some precious people God has placed in my life that continually encourage me with statements of how much growth and healing they are seeing in the boys' lives, and how they enjoy seeing my interaction with them. I am only too aware of all the ways I fail. I am only too aware of the times I really blow it with the kids. It's easy to get discouraged when you don't see the progress you'd like to see in a step-family as a whole, or in a child in particular. Hearing words of affirmation that you're doing a great job at being a mother is priceless. Not only is it an acknowledgement that you are indeed a mother, but it's heartwarming to realize someone has noticed your efforts and hard work at raising strong and godly kids.

4) "You saw this one coming" - Yes, this is eerily close to "You knew what you were in for when you got married" from the list of things NOT to say to a stepmom. Let me explain. I have had two different people say this to me in a way that was encouraging - not hurtful. These two people heard me out on a tough day, and (in a very kind way) reminded me that I DID see this one coming, that I HAD prepared for this situation, that God WAS going to get me through these circumstances. They said it in an empowering kind of way. A way that reminded me this was not a surprise and I was not just at the mercy of the chaos. A way that steadied my feet and my emotions. A way that gave me the quietness to just be still and think back to what I had already planned for, for this very situation. A way that reminded me to stop panicking - and to pray for wisdom. 

5) "Do you think you two will have any more children, or is your plate full enough right now?" - This one should ONLY be said by close family and friends who know they have the right to ask this. If you don't know whether or not you're on a stepmom's closest friends list, better to err by NOT asking this. On the other hand, if you know you are one of her closest friends, and she won't mind the personal question, this question is great for three reasons: it acknowledges this is a decision that the two of them as a couple will make and no other influence/opinions/ideas are needed, it acknowledges that she is indeed already a mother, and it acknowledges that she is indeed already a BUSY mother. Granted, this could be said in a tone of voice that implies they'd be stupid to even consider having more children, but if you are close enough to ask this question, I'll trust you actually care enough about them as a couple to not insinuate anything hurtful.

6) "I'd like to come by and clean your bathroom for you" - Seriously one of the most precious gifts I was given this year. Just after my miscarriage I had a friend who offered this. I had mentioned to her how recovery was going physically for me, and how frustrated I was by a dirty house, and by the lack of energy (and the level of pain still involved) that was preventing me from tackling the heavier household chores. I wasn't asking for help. We were just chatting about life as women/mothers with all that entails. She called me back a short time later with this offer, and I nearly cried. I was humiliated to let someone else see the condition of our bathroom, but I was too worn down (physically and emotionally) to say "no". And was SO grateful for the help. 

7) "I'm praying for all of you" - The number one thing a stepmom loves to hear. Even when you don't know all the needs and struggles going on, even when she can't talk to anyone about them, God sees them. And He can give wisdom and strength and help even when the needs themselves are hard to put into words.

8) "I'm sorry it's so hard right now" - Sometimes there isn't anything tangible you can do to help. But a hug and a simple "I'm sorry it's so hard right now" goes a long ways toward letting a stepmom know she's not invisible and she hasn't been forgotten. Sometimes stepmoms don't need anyone to do anything or say anything, they just need to know they are loved and they have a friend who cares.

9) "I'm so proud of you!" - Really? I'm not. So it's wonderful to hear that someone IS proud of me. I see all the ways I want to be a better wife and mom in this new family unit we're creating, I see all the ways I fail. But if you can tell me even one way you are proud of me, you make my heart dance for a week or longer. 

Because I wrote this list as "things to say to a stepmom", it leaves out a couple of things you can DO for stepmoms. But I think they're worth mentioning, so I'm adding them here...

Becoming a full-time stepmom (as in, we have custody - not just visitation rights) is not only exhausting - it's incredibly lonely at times. I went from being a single career gal to a full-time stay-at-home mom pretty much overnight. That's a huge lifestyle change on TOP of getting married and instantly having two children. One of my good friends (who is long distance from me) sent me cards nearly every week for months on end, just to let me know she was thinking of me, praying for me/us, and wanted to encourage me that God was big enough to handle anything that week threw at me. I can't tell you how much those cards meant to me. I saved every single one of them. I re-read them on the bad days, the days where tears out-weighed the laughter. And two different times, she not only sent a card, she sent a box of things. For me. For only me. Things to make the hard days a bit easier. The box(es) had things like chocolate (in large amounts), candies, bubble stuff (to de-stress), a card with verses about God being our strength, and other things. On the really rough days, I would sneak off to my room, cry my eyes out, pray for wisdom, eat a piece of chocolate from my box (okay, there were days I ate two or three at a time), and remember I had a friend who cared about me and was praying for me. It was comforting and reassuring that I was not alone. Not only did I have a good friend who cared, but I had a God who would see me through.

Another amazing gift I was given was a chest freezer. Yes, really. I'm still not quite certain how this friend knew I needed one. I think I had mentioned in passing that some day I'd like to get one. But I don't even think I said something directly to her. Maybe I mentioned it on a forum we're both on?? or to her mom?? In any case, she heard my need loud and clear, and had a freezer delivered (a huge shock to me when the delivery truck showed up - let me tell you!) to our house. The point is, most of the time stepmoms aren't going to ask for help, or shout their needs from a rooftop. If you're reaching out to a stepmom, if you really want to bless her, pay attention when she's chatting about her family. Watch for things she says in passing that you can turn into an opportunity to express love and support. 

On looking over this post it strikes me that most of these things aren't specific to stepmoms. Most of these things are just things we should be doing for each other no matter who we are. Because God called us to love each other.

It's NOT What I Want to Hear - Ever

There are certain things I've been hearing repeatedly (yes, that means over and over and over again) that are frustrating at best, anger-inducing at worst, but almost all of them have made me cry at one time or other. If you want to be more considerate and thoughtful of the stepmoms you know, I highly recommend you start by taking this list to heart, and never NEVER say these things - regardless of your good intentions behind them. So here you are - 9 things to NOT say to a stepmom:

1) "You knew what you were in for when you got married" - Yes, yes, I certainly did. But that doesn't mean that I never need a friend to talk to. It doesn't mean that I don't need to honestly face the situations I'm presented with on a daily basis. It doesn't mean that I'm thrilled with everything going on - even if I DID choose to live this life. And it's no different than someone who takes a stressful job and then needs to talk it through with a friend. Telling someone "You knew what you were in for when you took that job" isn't exactly helpful. Yes, they chose the job. They're may even be glad they chose the job. But that doesn't mean they don't need to brainstorm for solutions to problems. It's no different than someone who is pregnant and needs to talk to a more experienced mom about the woes in pregnancy. Telling her "you knew what you were in for when you got pregnant" isn't exactly encouraging. What she needs is someone to come along side and say "Yes, I know it's rough, but I got through this and you can too. Here are a couple things that helped me." 

But saying that a stepmom knew what she was in for is not only rude - it's ridiculous. You CAN know the road ahead is going to be rough (like that stressful job you took). You CAN know you're likely to feel sick for months on end (like that pregnant woman). You CAN research and ask questions and gather as much info as possible in advance. You CAN have a good idea of what you're walking into. But you can't know everything. And regardless of how much you knew in advance, sometimes you just need a friend to put their arms around you and say "I'm sorry you're hurting." And leave it there.

2) "Are you two going to have your own children?" - Number one: it's NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS. Number two: these ARE my own children thankyouverymuch. Children come to people a number of different ways. Biologically is only one of many ways. And it only shows your own ignorance to insinuate otherwise.

3) "Sounds like a great way to have kids!" - Really? Then why don't YOU try a "pregnancy" much longer than nine months, with major complications and stress. Why don't YOU adopt or otherwise acquire children in their teens. And then you can tell me all about how easy and great it's been.

4) "His wife is/does/isn't/doesn't...." - Um, that would be his EX-wife. And I really don't care a snit what she is/does/isn't/doesn't. There's a reason she's no longer his wife. And I'd like to forget she even exists, as much as possible.

5) "Well, at least you don't have to worry about how they turn out since they’re not your kids." -Yes, I DO have to worry about that. God entrusted them to my care, and for as long as He allows me to have them, I must do the very best job I can in training them and teaching them and loving them. It's no different than with your bio-kids: I can't claim the success if they turn out great, and I can't claim the failure if they turn out with mega-issues. All I can do is the best I can do, and pray, and love, and teach, and try to give them the tools they'll need for life. The rest is between them and God.

6) "You'll understand that better when you have your own kids someday." - Here we are again on the same merry-go-round. Firstly, they ARE my own kids. Secondly, if you tell me that I'll understand love better when I have my own kids... well, you better be telling me your own story of how you love your bio-kids more than you love your stepchildren, otherwise, you have no business talking about comparisons. On second thought, DON'T tell me that. It would make me incredibly sad for the stepchildren in your care. You can tell me about how much you love your child. You tell me you don't think you're a strong enough woman to care for stepchildren. But don't tell me about something you've never experienced. The only people who can accurately make comparisons like that are people who LIVE IN THAT SITUATION. Tell you what... since we have another little one on way, I can let you know next year if I love my bio-child more than I love BB and LM. 'Cause next year I'll be the one in that position. 

7) "It must really stink to parent somebody else’s kids." - Yes. Sometimes it does. Namely when I have to pick up the pieces (again) after their bio-mom pulls another stupid stunt (again) and breaks another promise (again) and smashes their heart (again). Or when I have to deal with behavior issues that have been propagated by immature and irresponsible adults in their lives. But there are also some incredibly wonderfully things about being a stepparent that you can never understand or see happen unless God chooses to let you experience that. And I much prefer to focus on those things. 

8) "You need to get a handle on that behavior" or "They're just being kids" - You are not their parent. Nor do you understand all the ins and outs of why we are handling some things or (seemingly) letting others go. Please trust that we're doing the best we can. If you're concerned about something, pray for us as parents that we would handle things in a way that would be pleasing to God, and pray for the kids that they will respond in appropriate ways.

9) "When I see what you've gone through it makes me determined to never marry a man with children." - The way I see it right now, I only have two options on how to answer this. A) "Um. Wow. I'm flattered that you think so highly of me and my family." Or B) "I'm sorry you don't think you're as strong a woman as I am." And since neither of those answers seem particularly polite (never mind that the original statement wasn't - I'm not going to lower myself to this level) I'm forced to keep my mouth shut and not tell you what I really think of you and your statements. The fact is, I thank God every single day for bringing this man into my life. He completes me in ways I didn't even realize I was lacking. I LOVE being married to him. It's not always easy, but then, no one's life is always easy. We all have rainy days along with the sunshiny ones. But I'm still incredulous at how wonderful it is to wake up next to my best friend every morning. And so very, very thankful that he asked me to share this journey with him. I wouldn't trade it for anything.

If you've said these things to me, I'm not going to tell you "it's okay". But I do forgive you. These things hurt. They make me angry. They make me sad. They make me cry. The responses I'm giving here are the things I wish I could say to someone's face. But I can't. My hope is that by posting these here (in the blunt and rude response that goes through my head when I hear them), that I can save a few other stepmoms from having to deal with them. Maybe by giving an honest view of what it looks like and feels like from where I am will help you understand a little more of what stepmoms go through on a daily basis.  I wish I could tell you how often I hear these things. But if I try to estimate you'd likely just assume I was exaggerating. Unless of course you ARE a fellow stepmom. In which case you'd know I'm not exaggerating, because you're living this life, too.  

And lest you think I've gone all hormonal and rude on you, I plan to follow up with a list things TO say to stepmoms. Things a few very precious people have said to me that made my load lighter and my heart happy and encouraged.

It's a Big Smile

Totally just had my day made. 

I'm sitting here on the couch checking my email and a few online haunts, when LM comes and plops down beside me. He put his head and my shoulder and curls up in a ball with this little smile on his face. But what he said blew me away, and put a big smile on MY face.

"I'm getting kind of excited about having a younger sibling." 

I asked him to repeat what he'd said. Just because I wanted to hear it again. ;-)

It's Researching & Prayerful

It's been surprising (in a nice way) to realize that God has completely stepped in where the fear in this pregnancy is concerned. Oh, there have been a few really rough and scary days. But on the whole, I've had FAR less fear to deal with than I knew was possible for someone who miscarried their first baby. I have had many, many friends tell me they have been especially praying for me and our baby, and I can tell such an enormous amount of strength and grace and love has been poured into my life as a result of their prayers. I have moments of concern, but overall not debilitating fear.

However... I do have extreme amounts of fear where labor and delivery are concerned. I could use the word "terror" and I don't think I'd be far off. I won't go into all the reasons why. Suffice it to say that horror stories combined with my own miscarriage experience have quadrupled an already existing fear. 

I am attempting to do mass amounts of research on natural birthing experiences and asking close friends for their own (happy!!) birth stories. Currently reading an Ina May book and a couple of others.

I'm specifically making this a matter of prayer. I'm asking God to take the fear away, to help me relax and remember that He created my body to do this, and that I CAN do this - in His strength.

It's Changing - FAST

Wow. So much has changed in the last few weeks (okay, months), it's hard to know where to start blogging. I guess I'll just give the nutshell version for now, and fill in as I can later perhaps.

First off, the biggest news... I'm pregnant. I'm about 11 weeks or so along now (due date is April 22) and everything seems to be going well. Our midwife seems pleased with all the numbers from the bloodwork, and although I haven't been able to hear a heartbeat or feel Little Bean move yet, this pregnancy seems different somehow - better. I have been HORRIDLY sick with this one. Whoever called it "morning sickness" needs to be shot. ;-) It's more like all-day sickness. And it seems to typically get far worse around the time when I need to be fixing dinner, which is highly inconvenient. Just within the last week though it has started easing up some. I'm grateful. It was really draining. Still not feeling terrific, but decidedly better than three weeks ago. 

Not that anyone but me would even notice this, but... the fact that my due date is the day after I miscarried our first is kind of weirding me out. But who knows?... maybe I'll end up having the baby on the 21st, and have reason to not hate the day so. 

The boys seem to be doing really well with it. PC and I could tell there was some apprehension at first, but we're trying to be really open with communication and assure them that their own space and toys and artwork will be guarded. LM got tears in his eyes at one point and said something about "it would take a lot of adjustment." We agreed that yes, it would, because any time you add a member to the family there is a lot of adjusting for everyone. But not all adjusting is bad. And I reminded them that all four of us have been through HUGE adjustments in the last year and a half. Because of a younger cousin that is totally out of control, they have a very bad taste in their mouth about young children. We've tried to assure them that Little Bean will NOT be allowed to just take over their things - that it's good to share when possible - but that simply by reason of the age differences, there will many, many things they are allowed to do that Little Bean will not. I reminded them of a little gal in our church (a younger sister of LM's best friend) who is very sweet and quiet and plays well with her older siblings (and their friends) and reminded them that how a child turns out is largely due to how parents raise them. If they are allowed to throw fits and get their own way in everything, then yes, they will be a brat. But I asked them if they thought THEY were brats when they were little, and they said probably not usually. I reminded them that their dad had been a good parent and not allowed them to throw fits and such, and wouldn't do that with the new little one. They nodded, and it seemed to reassure them somewhat. Since that conversation I've been picking up a growing excitement from them. And we've had other good discussions about how they will likely end up being heroes to Little Bean, or at the very least, be totally cool, and Little Bean will likely try to copy them and follow them and want to do everything they do. Because of the huge age difference that won't always be possible, but I told them that often we'll be able to find alternatives for Little Bean. For instance, if BB is doing his artwork and Little Bean tries to come "help" him, we can give Little Bean crayons and paper of his/her own. That way, he/she will still be near big brother, and feel included, but won't be messing up his work. They sort of chuckled at that, but I think it helped. I hope it helped.

I'm struggling with fear over bonding with this baby. I WANT to love it. I WANT to be able to enjoy being pregnant. I WANT to have fun picking out little clothes and setting up the nursery. But I'm afraid. After dealing with so much loss this year, I'm afraid to let myself get attached to something so small and helpless, I guess.  I'm working on that. As a friend reminded me, this baby deserves to be loved with my whole heart, for whatever length of time God gives him/her to us.

PC had the opportunity to get more training at his job last week. This new training will qualify him for a different position that will pay a little more, and one of the supervisors encouraged him to get this training because they said he's pretty much guaranteed a promotion as soon as one of those positions becomes available. With the baby coming it would be lovely to have a little extra coming in each month. Praying about that. 

For now, we're planning on using the midwives at a birthing center nearby. I'm completely terrified at the thought of giving birth in a hospital. Partly because of my miscarriage experience, and partly because I think they would force me into a position where a c-section would be necessary. Even if for no other reason than that they won't allow you to eat anything in the hospital when you're in there for labor and delivery. At the birthing center I can eat whenever (and whatever) I want. And for someone like me who struggles with low blood sugar issues anyhow, that's a really big issue. I do NOT want a c-section. And if I haven't been allowed to eat for hours and hours, there is no possible way I would be able to push a baby out. Period. I want to give myself and our baby the best chance for having a natural birthing experience. 

I've done a fair bit of research regarding this particular birthing center and have yet to talk to a single person who has used them that had even one small negative comment to make. Everyone I have spoken to regarding the midwives and the center itself has had nothing but good things to say about them. And so far, I REALLY everything I'm seeing there. The midwives have been really really good to me.

It's Got Rainbows & Hope

It's a Lot to Catch Up On

I've been too busy lately to blog as much as I would have liked. But most of the busy things have been good things, and that's been nice. :-) This post will be rather random because I want to write about several things which are not really related.

First off, our vehicle has been having MAJOR issues - as in, overheating every. single. time we drive it. And it only takes a mile or two for this to happen. And (while PC was at work and I was driving it) had to have it towed TWICE in the space of about three weeks. In the words of our mechanic: "It's only God Himself keeping that car on the road." Okaaaayyyy then. Since we've been a one-car family almost since the beginning of our married life, this news has been very concerning to me. PC has to have a way to get to work. And because of the horrendous way it was acting when we were driving - and with me having to get it towed twice - I was starting to border on panic attacks every time I would get into the car. No, I mean real panic attacks. It felt exactly like what happened right before the miscarriage when I was hyperventilating. Really scary. I would try to FORCE myself to breathe correctly, but it took about everything in me to turn the key and drive out of the driveway. (For the record, I'm not generally a 'fraidy-cat. And I've definitely never had a problem with panic attacks. I don't know how much of this stuff was caused by hormonal/physical stuffs, or grief, or whatever, but it was quite unpleasant to deal with.) Anyhow, God provided a beautiful mini-van ('93 Dodge Caravan) for us that appears to have been very well taken care of, both visible things and under the hood. I'm really enjoying it! PC has still been driving vehicle #1 to work and back, which makes me nervous, but I didn't ask him to leave the van for me and he's chosen to drive the other vehicle every day this week. I guess that's a decision he'll have to make until we figure out what we're going to do long-term - either get vehicle #1 fixed, get a different (2nd) vehicle, or remain a 1-car family. 

The boys spent several days at youth camp, and came home with all kinds of tales. But they also had great things to say about the services, so apparently they were paying attention to the important things, too. ;-)

While they were gone, I got to spend a whole day with my mom - just the two of us! It was fabulous. We haven't been able to do that for a really long time, and it was wonderful to just be able to talk freely with her about anything and everything, and mosey through shops, and laugh and giggle, and drink coffee, and eat a doughnut, and... oh, all the things moms and daughters do together. But one of the biggest memory-makers from the day has to do with the miscarriage. I had mentioned to mom that it feels like there isn't even an acknowledgment that my baby ever existed and that I would like to find some small item that I could put up in my house as kind of a memory of my Tiny One. Not something that I would even have to explain to everyone what it was, or why, but something just for me and PC to have to remember our first baby. I also told mom that at some point in the last few weeks, I had realized that I almost always think of my baby when I see butterflies. I guess because butterflies are beautiful, and small, and flit away from you. But then (as I was reading other blogs by women who have miscarried) I realized quite a few women use a butterfly as symbolism for a baby they've lost. And I wasn't sure I wanted to have the same thing as "everyone else." Mom said that shouldn't stop me from using a butterfly as my memory keeper. After all, the symbolism was mine before I read about anyone else's. But that shouldn't matter to me anyway, she said. And suddenly I knew she was right. And then... as we're moseying through shops and having fun together, I spotted these butterfly plaque things that had inspirational quotes/sayings on them. And one of them had a quote about hope. What few people know is, PC and I had talked about naming a little girl "Hope" someday. When I pointed the plaque out to mom, and started to explain, I started crying. So here I am standing in the middle of the store, trying to explain to mom why I suddenly wanted THAT plaque to be my memory keeper. It took mom about .2 seconds to realize the significance to me, and she picked it up and went and bought it for me. But, as she says, it is both about the baby we lost, and about the future things God has for us. The quote is "Hope will give you wings." 

The boys seem to be doing pretty well. They're growing, and changing, and learning new things. Not always as quickly as I might wish, but then... I'm an idealist. And I only have to think about what they were like a year ago to realize just HOW far we've already come. The difference is huge. And a lot of the frustrating things we're dealing with right now is mostly just teen-guy stuff - not blended family stuff. Stuff like not wanting to take showers as often as they need them, and wearing dirty clothes instead of putting them in the hamper. 

Another "first" happened for BB on the 4th of July. His latest obsession is horses, and while we were waiting for the parade to start, he suddenly realized there were horses across the street behind a hedge of sorts. And he asked for permission to cross the street to go look at them. Mind you, he NEVER wants to be out of sight of me or his dad when we're out and about. Even asking him (or LM) to get something from around the corner in the grocery store can send him into grunting panicked unhappy-land. And he ASKED to be allowed to go across the street BY HIMSELF. On one hand it makes me sad that a 14-year-old would be so hesitant about everything that just crossing a small-town street by himself required asking permission. But on the other hand... I see this as another BIG step forward. He's learning confidence. And yes, it's a confidence he should have had at age 10 or so. But still. He's growing.

It's a Place of Grief

My little Nana (my mother's mom) died May 31. It wasn't unexpected. She was 93, after all, and dementia had been increasing by leaps and bounds for the past couple years. But I so wasn't ready to say good-bye. 

Nana is the woman I was named after, and she was one of the most important people in my life. She was the one I called when I was confused (she was oh-so wise and loving), or hurting (her words were healing to bruised hearts), or lonely (I didn't get married until age 30, she didn't get married until she was a few years older than that - and in a family where most women marry between 19 and 21, well, let's just say we had a lot in common and she understood me when no one else did). Except from the time I was born until I was two, we lived long distance from each other. But she invested in me, poured herself into me, with calls, and cards, and letters, and sending me to youth camp and convention, and (after Bapa died) let me share her room at Family Camp. As my uncle said at her graveside this last week, "She made each of us feel as if we were her favorite."

Losing Nana has made some of the grieving over my baby resurface. I've been trying to shove so many emotions aside during the last number of weeks - intentionally, since I literally CAN'T deal with everything at once (see this post) and have been purposefully trying to deal with one issue at a time in the interest of staying sane - but grief has such odd ways of popping up when you really don't want to have to face it. Grief doesn't give you many options. It will jump on you at sight of a pair of eyeglasses or a baby's smile, a photo or a certain smell, a particular color or a song. And now I'm grieving both of them at once. The two are inextricably mixed. On one hand I'm grieving a woman who impacted my life, who helped shaped who I am today, who encouraged and loved and held me, and on the other hand I'm grieving a baby I never held in my arms, who doesn't have a name. Both the woman and the baby affected me inside and outside: the woman, because her genes are in me, and her character and love for God is what I have tried to imitate... the baby because it was living inside me and changed my body, and also changed the way I view life and love and other things.

Someone reminded me a few days ago of something I had written during Nana's battle with dementia. I decided to reprint it here. 

The Next Big Event

It upsets me. It makes me sad. Sometimes it almost makes me cry. And sometimes it almost makes me angry. It makes me want to ask her to please quit talking that way.

What am I thinking of? I'm thinking of the times Nana starts talking about dying. The times she talks about "after I'm gone". The times she wants to plan her memorial service. The times she talks about how long she's lived and how heaven is next - as if her life is over.

But today I got it. I really, really got it.

You see...
In grade school I looked forward to summer. It was my Next Big Event.
In winter I looked forward to my birthday. It was my Next Big Event.
In December I looked forward to Christmas. It was my Next Big Event.
In high school I looked forward to graduation. It was my Next Big Event.
In summer I looked forward to family vacation. It was my Next Big Event.
In my 20's I looked forward to falling in love. It was my Next Big Event.
While I've been engaged I've been looking forward to my wedding day. It's my Next Big Event.
When I'm married I'm sure I'll be looking forward to having a baby. It will be my Next Big Event.

Sometimes I've been impatient, eager, longing for my Next Big Event.
Sometimes I've been content and happy in the stage I was in, but I was still looking forward with anticipation to my Next Big Event.
Sometimes I've planned for the Next Big Event for days ahead. Weeks ahead. Months ahead. Even years ahead.
Sometimes I'd think about the Next Big Event. A lot.
Sometimes I'd talk about the Next Big Event. A lot.
Sometimes I drove everyone around me nuts by how much I talked about the Next Big Event.

I guess it would be fair to say that the Next Big Event was never far from my mind. Ever.

And now I get it.

Heaven is Nana's Next Big Event.

See, she's not happy here. She's in pain. She's missing people she loves that went to heaven ahead of her. And she knows that her life here isn't exactly improving.

She knows that in heaven she'll get to see Bapa again. She won't have pain. She won't be sad. Or lonely. Or fearful.

And it's her Next Big Event.

And suddenly, in my own mind, that makes all the difference in the world.

Well, guess what, readers... she's not confused any longer. She's not in pain. Or sad. Or lonely. Or fearful. She's safe. And happy. And peaceful. And contented. And smiling. And laughing. She's with Jesus. And I'll get to see her again. Her, and Bapa, and my Tiny One. 

But in the meantime... I miss them.

P.S. To the readers who came looking for a stepmom blog, I'll get back to that. Promise. But for now, this is Where I'm At. And it's just as much a part of who I am as being a stepmom is.

P.P.S. To the readers who alerted me they were having trouble commenting on posts because they didn't have a google account, the issue should be resolved now.

It's Confusing

We've been dealing with passive aggressive behavior with BB for... well, he's been this way his whole life, apparently. From what PC says. But since I'm the full-time stay-at-home parent now, I'm the one dealing with it on an everyday basis. 

But lately, LM has been showing the more and more passive aggressive behaviors as well.

Just between you and me... I HATE passive aggressive behavior. Emotional manipulation is just wrong. And the underhanded sneaky stuff is even more abhorred in my books.

So. What to do about it? 

When it's sneaky stuff, I'm really not sure what to do. Outright disobedience is one thing. This underhanded disrespect and attempt to force a superior into your wishes... well... I don't know how to handle it.

Do I call it what it is? Even when it's hard to define? And start making a big deal of it, even when sometimes I might jump to the wrong conclusions? 

If anyone has an idea of a book or other resource that might help me wade through this, please send me a note. Or, if you have experience dealing with this in your own kiddos, I'd very much appreciate some input here.

It's Thought Provoking

And humbling.

Since the miscarriage, women have come out of the woodwork to share their own stories with me. Some of them have told their stories to others already. Some of them told me they hadn't shared their story with anyone else. Or with very few. But they all wanted me to know I wasn't alone, that they were praying for me, and grieving with me. So humbling. And makes me so grateful for the women I am surrounded by. Not surrounded in the sense of them being close by, but surrounded in the sense of them impacting my life for good, and making me feel enveloped by love.

One friend in particular wrote me a letter two days after my miscarriage to tell me her story, and to share hope with me. Since I was still in the midst of a dense mental fog on the day I received it, a lot of her letter didn't "stick", and I knew I would want to go back and re-read it later (maybe many times) as I worked my way out of the fog. But one statement in particular did stick. And I thought about it quite a lot during the days I was in bed, and still more once I started getting back on my feet, and yet more as the fog started to clear in spots. Just so you'll understand the context, this friend has had two children since her own miscarriage.

The statement was this:

     "Where [my daughter's] birth proved that I COULD carry life, [my son's birth] seems to have proved that I can also nurture it. For me there is a difference. He's teaching me how to love [my daughter] more, and not be so scared of myself as a mother. I'm a better mother to the living because of the lost one."

 Not only did she offer me hope that one miscarriage doesn't mean I will never have a baby to hold, but she held out hope to me that I can be a better mother for having gone through this. I'm not certain I can communicate why this statement impacted me so strongly, but it somehow freed me. It gave me the hope that while the pain is intense right now, that one day I will be able to pull good from this, to be a better person from this, a better mother from this. That while this has (and will continue to) impact me hugely, it does not have to DEFINE me.

That statement from my friend was probably the number one thing that has helped me process everything so far. 

Her closing statement in the letter (and SO many other notes I received along a similar line) were what made me feel surrounded by love...

     "Lots of time has helped with perspective. Allow yourself time to mourn, but also let it enrich your present blessings. Life is a miracle, and the sheer volume of miracles surrounding us doesn't make them any less miracles, but we forget.
      You need time to yourself, but you also have to keep open to others to heal. I learned this the hard way, and it cost me precious healing time.
      This little glimpse into what could have been will always be bitter sweet. If I ever looked back in life and saw where God held me, this is one of them. I believe that He holds you too. I wish I had more to offer. I'm mourning and weeping with you. I would like to even be able to give you a hug, but I can't. So I place you daily in His arms and pray for His peace."

Thank you, my friend(s). I won't name you here for the sake of privacy, but you know who you are. And only God knows how grateful I am for your support and love.

Oh, and regarding looking for miracles around us... I'm looking. And I'm finding them. I'm finding them in BB's maturity the last two weeks, the way he has stepped up the plate and helped me in SO many ways. I'm finding them in God's provision. I'm finding them in the assistance of strangers at the hospital. I'm finding them in my marriage. I'm finding them in the smiles of a baby I borrow at church when I need baby snuggles, and in his parents who love me. I'm finding them in the friends who drive to my house to have tea - just because. I'm finding them in the offer of a friend to clean my bathroom. I'm finding them in my mom's offer to have us to lunch on the day I have to do a big grocery shopping trip. I'm finding them in my brother's phone calls. I'm finding them in the realization that the statement I have always made about relationships being the most important thing in life is more true than I even realized.

I'm finding them, my friend. I'm finding them.

It's Likely to be Hard

I'm dreading Mother's Day. 

If I could just focus on my own mom, and push everything else out for the day, I think I'd be okay. But with how supportive my church family has been, it's likely someone (okay, several someones) will say something sweet and caring - knowing it will be a tough day - and I'll lose it. And I don't really want to spend the day feeling like a basketcase of tears and emotion. 

If only I could have had a bit more time before Mother's Day hit, I think it might have been easier. Maybe.

As a side note, and for the record, I have come to DESPISE the word "miscarriage". It makes me feel like I was being careless while carrying my baby in my arms, dropped her on her head on the sidewalk, and let her break in a million pieces. 

It's a Similar Story Repeated

A mom. Yet not a mom. 

In dealing with becoming a stepmom, I've struggled with the whole "I'm a mom, but I'm not a mom" thing. Something almost every stepmom deals with, from what I understand. Well, except those stepmoms who also have bio kiddos.

And now, because of the miscarriage, I'm facing the same thing all over again. But this time... this time, I really AM a mom. It's just that I never got to hold my baby. Never got to see it. Didn't even really know for sure that it was THERE - until it wasn't. 

And it feels like I don't even have any "proof" that I AM a mom. Because it's not like I even have an ultrasound image of my baby. All I have is the hospital band from my wrist, and the elastic bandage thing from my IV. That's not exactly "proof" I was pregnant. 

I'm a mom. But not. 

I mean, I AM a mom. But there's nothing to show for it. So it feels like there isn't even an acknowledgment that my baby ever existed.

I don't even really know why I'm writing about this. Because I can't even find the words to explain like I wish I could. Except that... perhaps another mom who has miscarried will read this and realize she's not alone in her feelings and struggles with this one.

I've heard several stories lately of moms who miscarried having a memorial service of sorts for their baby. Or even some sort of private ceremony/remembrance/something to give themselves the space to grieve, to acknowledge the death of something - someONE - so tiny, so fragile. So precious. On one hand I wish I could do something like that. It feels weird to be grieving a death that happened so privately, so quietly, that not even the person carrying that life knew when it happened. Only what happened after that death. But at the same time, attempting to have a memorial service (or remembrance, or whatever) for a life that no one knew about seems... almost ludicrous.

But regardless of whether others knew of the life... I'm grieving the death. And having "closure" (whatever that stupid word means in real life) doesn't really seem possible right now.

It's Safe In God's Hands

Biomom called PC's cell phone today while he was at work and left a message that she wants him to call her regarding her having the boys for the summer. (This is the first she has attempted to discuss it with him. The only reason I knew anything about it before this point was because the boys mentioned it to me.)

For a glimpse of what I really think on the matter see this post. 

We checked the divorce agreement regarding the kids. She's broken some huge things in there. And because she left the country for so long, it appears she may have very few rights. PC is talking about legal action to get FULL custody - as in no rights for her at all. It's so very very wrong for her to continue trying to jerk the kids around this way. I'm still hearing about how they wanted to see her before she left the country, and how she said she wanted to see them, and how "her plans must have changed". And that was over two years ago, if I remember the dates right. Disappointments just keep happening. Broken promises just keep happening. Abuse just keeps happening. And PC looked ready for war tonight when he mentioned legal action.

God, please give us wisdom. Guide us to an excellent lawyer who can tell us what we need to know, and help us to take the RIGHT steps. Because right now I'm not sure what the right step is. I would like it if her rights were completely taken away. I would dearly love to adopt them as my own - on paper, not just in my heart. But only You know if that would be the right thing for THEM. If having her be their mom on paper is somehow less damaging to them than having her rights terminated, then show us, please. But whatever Your answer is, please give us peace about it. My heart is breaking over the ongoing damage she is causing. And I see so many ways that this is going to affect their adult years. Their life decisions. Their future. Please, God, heal the hurt - emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Only You can heal pain like the pain they continue to have to deal with.

It's Sometimes Got Healing Tears

Found this article earlier today. Most of the online stuffs I'm finding haven't made me cry. This one almost did. But it was really good, so I'm posting the link here in case I need to go back and re-read it.

http://blogs.babycenter.com/mom_stories/thankful-for-my-miscarriage/

It's a Place of Gratefulness

I am thankful:

-that my baby is safe with Jesus - not in pain and/or struggling to breathe in NICU

-that my sister and mom and PC kept trading places in the ER with me so I wasn't ever alone

-that neither PC nor myself allowed bomb #2 to threaten our marriage

-that bomb #3 wasn't worse than it was - because it could have been absolutely horrendous

-that my family was nearby when life exploded last week

-for friends that support me in prayer, and phone calls, and emails, and texts, and visits, and hugs, and... 

-that I'm alive

-for friends that extend grace to me and my family in so many, many ways

-that God's mercies are new every morning

-that I made it home in time to see the cherry tree begin to blossom

-that I have a husband who holds me when I cry, who makes me laugh in spite of everything, and who is forcing me to take it easy - even when I feel useless - because I know he's right, and I'll heal faster if I listen to him

 

It's Looking Better

In the interest of not alarming my poor readers... I should let you know I'm not nearly as depressed as the last two or three posts sounded. God is helping me deal with each of the three "bombs" that went off in my life last week. And maybe some of the pregnancy hormones are starting to calm down, too. Not sure. I really have no idea how long they're in your system after a miscarriage. All I know is... I'm doing better. Still having to take it easy (IE: feeling completely useless), but PC and BB are taking good care of me. Yes! Even BB! He's been really surprising me at the way he's stepping up to the plate lately. He's showing a more serious and thoughtful side with all the unexpected stuff going on, has been helping out in new ways, and has been unusually careful and gentle with me. Even the hugs I'm getting (which are even more frequent than normal - and I get a lot of hugs from him even on normal days) are different. A little longer, and decidedly gentle. The other day I was fretting a little about PC going back to work tomorrow, and I told BB that since I'm still fairly shaky on my feet in moments, that I would need him to help me out by letting me hang onto his arm if we have to go anywhere without dad. He looked very serious and said "okay" and I've been noticing that he's more... aware??... that I'm a bit unsteady on my feet still. Moving a tad slower when he's near me, and... watching?? to make sure I'm okay. On one hand it makes me feel a little bad. But on the other... well, it's nice to see the thoughtfulness and the care he's taking. And maybe this is good preparation for when he has a wife someday. Perhaps he's learning to be more gentle and careful with people weaker or smaller than himself. And that would be a good thing. And the shaky thing is slowly going away. I notice it most when I've been on my feet too long. Which hasn't been much, considering the way PC glares at me when he thinks I'm overdoing it. ;-) 

It's nice to be loved.

It's Near a Crash

Three life-altering bombs being dropped on me in the space of six days is just a bit too much.

I don't think I've ever been so close to having a mental breakdown. I know I need help. I just don't know who to talk to. Have a call in to the man who did our pre-marriage counseling. Even if he doesn't have time to meet with me soon, I hope he'll be able to give me a referral to a professional who might be able to help me sort through things. 

I realize I'm known for holding things together even when things are falling apart. But I can't hold it together any more. And I don't mean some sort of emotional melt down where I can't stop crying. I mean something way beyond that.

And because of the nature of two of those bombs that were dropped on me, I can't even blog about them. All you need to know for now is... I desperately need God's help, and wisdom, and strength.

My mom and dad and PC know everything going on. And one friend. Who, thank God, is local-ish. But since one of those bombs involves her family, too... well, I'm not sure if I should be thankful to have a close friend who does know what's going on, or be completely humiliated that she does. *sigh* So far beyond coping that it's not even funny.

Hugs and chocolate don't fix some things. Some things can't be fixed. Except, I suppose, by God Himself. But I'll be honest... I'm questioning if even He can fix some things. Yeah, I know. I know that's bad. But it's...

where I'm at.

It's Horrifying

It's such a horrifying thing to go through labor, and not have a baby to hold at the end of it.

It's Terrifying - Or WAS

The short version is: I miscarried last Saturday.

If you want the long version, keep reading.

A couple months ago I had suspected I could be pregnant, mainly due to the fact that one morning I took a sip of my coffee and went "Ew, yuck!" That seemed really strange, since I generally really enjoy coffee... and also since I had heard a couple stories from women whose first clue they were pregnant was the "Ew, yuck!" factor when sipping their coffee. But I brushed the thought aside, because what with dealing with all the weird abdomen issues for months, and being on that anti-inflammatory diet, and various other stresses... well, I just ignored it. Looking back, I'm seeing that I ignored a lot of things I should have paid more attention to. But at the time, it just seemed like with all the stress and well, just STUFF, I was dealing with, there seemed to be explanations or reasons for all kinds of things. Now I wish I had paid more attention. Not that I could have changed one thing, but still. It leaves me with a really weird feeling. Especially knowing that I was taking medication at the time that pregnant women aren't supposed to take. I'm fighting the feeling that I aborted my own baby. I know with my head that I didn't, but still, the niggling feeling is there.

Last Friday we had a lovely relaxing day. Which I now believe God gave to me as a special gift, knowing what I would be facing the next evening.

Saturday morning I woke up with a huge amount of energy, felt better than I have in weeks. Okay, months. I figured it was from finally being able to be out in the sunshine and all. Now I realize it was the "nesting instinct" kicking in before my body went into labor. In any case, I tackled all kinds of projects that day. Extra loads of laundry, cleaning, cooking, etc. Things beyond what my energy levels this year have typically allowed. (Memo to self: DO NOT get halfway involved in ten projects next time the nesting instinct kicks in. Just do one thing at a time, and complete it!)

That afternoon about 3:30 or so I started cramping. Didn't really think anything of it at first, because, after all, my whole body has been messed up this year. But it quickly started becoming much, much worse. By the time 4:30 rolled around, I was in the worst pain I've ever had in my life. The weird thing was, it seemed like the severe pains were getting closer and closer together, almost like what I'd always imagined it would be like during contractions. CONTRACTIONS?!?!?! And it hit me like a ton of bricks EXACTLY what was happening. And I knew I had been pregnant. And I knew my baby was gone. And I knew my body was trying to get rid of it.

I couldn't breathe right from the pain, and started hyperventilating. I called my mom and asked her to pray for me, told her I was having severe pain and couldn't breathe right. (It seems dumb now that I didn't tell her precisely what was happening, but I think I was so far into shock by this point that I wasn't thinking clearly.) She said she'd come. Since they live about 20 minutes away it felt like it took forever until I heard her and my sister at the door. Here is when I started seeing God's timing on things. When mama walked in, I was in the middle of the worst contraction yet and was hyperventilating so badly that my hands and feet were drawing up like a stroke victim's. And I realized with horror that if she hadn't walked in just then and called 911 for me, I would have been completely incapable of calling them myself.

The EMT's were fabulous. They let my sister ride with me in the ambulance, and even made me laugh on the way to the hospital, in spite of the severe pain.

PC was still at work while all this was going on, and no one could get a hold of him until he got off work shortly after 6pm. (Yay for jobs where you can't answer your phone. I've always had a fear that if I really needed to get a hold of him during the day that I wouldn't be able to.) 

To be honest, I didn't even need the doctor to tell me what his verdict was. I already knew. But even so, it still was a shock to hear in the same sentence that yes, I had been pregnant, and no, I wasn't now.

They couldn't tell me how far along I was. I wish they could have. But my hunch is that I was pregnant about 2 1/2  or 3 mo. ago, that the baby died very soon, and that my body has been trying to expel it ever since.

We were finally able to go home around 11pm. All I wanted to do was go lie down in my own bed, have PC hold me, and fall asleep. 

Here again, I see the way God worked out the timing for me. PC was off work on both Sunday and Monday, so he was able to stay with me and take care of me. And my mom offered to keep the boys, so we had two days just the two of us. And in spite of feeling like I'd been run over by a truck, and wishing it could have been under other circumstances, I did really enjoy being able to have him to myself for two day. Just being together was lovely. And no pressure to have to do or say anything.

I've had an absolute outpouring of love expressed in the last few days, from phone calls and texts, to emails and Facebook messages, to all kinds of offers to help. 

I hope I NEVER have to face something similar again. But it's nice to know what wonderful family and friends I am surrounded by when the bad times hit.

It's Lovely

God has funny ways of answering prayers. Today was PC's day off, and the four of us took off for an adventure. We packed a picnic lunch and drove to one of my favorite parks outside of town that has forest, stream/river, and trails. The weather was absolutely perfect. No, seriously, it was perfect. We drove to the back side of the park, ate lunch in the middle of the trees, then ditched the lunch remains in the trunk of the car and took off down the trail. Stopped for a while where there was a bench (for me and PC - we must be getting old or something), a shallow area for LM to wade (I was sure he was going to fall in and have to ride home soaking wet, but he didn't), and room for BB to wander a little (but he didn't - as usual he wanted to stay right beside us to talk. And talk. And talk. But that was okay, 'cause everything else was quiet. And to be honest, I tuned him out for quite a while and just let PC deal with answering/responding). 

Sitting near a river just listening to the rapids and the wind in the trees has always been the best therapy ever for me (second only to the waves at the ocean), so today was amazingly peaceful and relaxing. 

Thankful. :-)

And to the readers who wrote to tell me they were praying I'd get a day off soon - thank you! I really needed a peaceful day like today. Thanks for praying, so I could have it. :-)

It's When I Feel Like a Nanny

With how disengaged PC has been lately, and with how isolated I am with him having the car most days, I finally told him that I honestly just feel like the nanny. What I don't know is... if this is something that I need to address in my own head, or if there is something I/we need to be doing to help that feeling go away. Last week when one of my best friends drove an hour or so just to come spend the day with me, it was SO lovely to be able to just chat with another adult. To share stories. To share concerns. To give (and get) a hug. But that was one day out of dozens when I'm staring at the same four walls closing in on me, when I'm answering the same questions about fractions or rounding or decimals, when I'm hearing the same (stupid) jokes over and over again. I'm tired of trying to force a smile or laugh at the same. exact. things. every. day. I'm tired of feeling distanced from my own husband. I'm tired of feeling like the nanny. Who never, ever, gets a day or an evening off.

We haven't gone on a date in... probably four or five months. And with all the additional stress lately, I really need him. But he's dealing with his own stuff, and can't be there for me. I get that. I understand that both of us are so wrapped up in our own things we're dealing with that neither one of us is really giving the other one what they need. I have really tried to be there for him - to listen when he needs to talk - to be quiet when he wants to just think or do nothing at all. And I see him trying to be there for me, too - holding me, letting me talk - asking about the family situations currently going on. But somehow neither one of us is really getting what we need. I don't know how to fix that. I've done everything I know to do.

I'm tired of feeling stuck. And right at this moment, all I can think of is how lovely it would be to run away for a little while. To go sit in the sand at the beach, to wade in the tide pools, to drink coffee and watch the fog roll in, to not say one. single. word. to anyone. To just be. And maybe cry my eyes out.

The stress is closing in. The walls are closing in.

And while I did admit to PC that I feel like the nanny - not his wife - I can't tell him the rest of it. Not the part about wanting to run away and escape it all for a while. Because his ex used the words "running away" to mean something entirely different. And last time I inadvertently said I was going to "run away to the grocery store to pick up a couple things", it sent him into a really, really horrible flashback. We both ended up in tears. Not good.

But that doesn't make my own need go away. And something's got to change, or I'm going to snap. 

Please, God, get me out of here. If only for a few hours. Even a full-time nanny needs an afternoon off now and then.


Edited to add:

Ya know... maybe my hormones really ARE out of whack. 'Cause I don't seem able to cope with normal life stuff just now.

It's a Place With No words

Sometimes the place where I'm at has no words. Lately it's been that way a lot. Or perhaps it's not that there aren't words... it might be that there are too many. And sorting through them to find the ones worth keeping is challenging. Either way, blogging about some things is difficult. But tonight I'm going to try to find the words. There might not be many. Or there might end up being too many. We shall see.

The thing is, the stress load ballooned again. Hugely. Here are a few of the highlights of the "why":

- A good friend in a neighboring town was in and out of the ER last week.

- One of my best friends is due to have a baby any day and is having some complications.

- It looks like my little Nana may be going home to heaven soon.

- PC's job has about three (huge) elements of stress going on right now. One of which is sexual harassment from a female co-worker.

- Several people in my family are dealing with ongoing health issues that no one in the medical field seems to be able to do anything about.

- My own health issues are still here.

- All the drama and pain and questions surrounding biomom's grand idea of having the boys for the summer.

- The financial thing... well, let's just not even go there for now.

- The behavior issues with BB, which you already read about here.

- Other stuff that I can't really talk about even on an anonymous blog.

Honestly, I feel very alone right now. And helpless. Even PC hasn't been able to "be there" for me much lately. Oh, he tries. And he does sweet things like bring me hot tea in the evening when he's home. Or give me a hug when I need one - when he's around. But that's just it... with mandatory overtime going on for the last three weeks straight, we haven't really spent much time together. And when he IS home, he's not really home. 'Cause he's carrying his own stresses right now. And seems to be finding it very difficult to engage with either me or the boys lately. I see him making efforts. But I think he's as lost in the fog as I am right now.

The other night he pulled me close in a big hug and said that the storm could rage around us, but we weren't going to let it come between us. Which was very sweet, and I agree whole-heartedly. But even so, I don't feel very connected to him right now. It seems like every single time we make plans to try to have some couple time (even if it's just leaving the house for an hour to grab coffee somewhere) something happens that prevents it. That, or he forgets, or just plain doesn't feel like going out. Sometimes I'm not sure which it is. And I refuse to turn into one of those nagging, emotionally needy, clinging sort of wives that we all despise. So I don't bring it up. But I miss him. I miss chatting. I miss laughing. I miss walking. I miss just BEING with him.

And that whole scenario leaves me often feeling like I'm facing all the other stresses alone. The parenting stuff. The financial stuff. The grieving stuff.

Sometimes I just want to escape. If only for a couple of hours. A couple of hours where all the problems would disappear. All the stress would leave. And I could enjoy the sunshine again. The quietness. The peaceful joy. The rushing river. The breeze in the trees. The birds chirping. That all seems like such a far off dream. I think it's been about three years since I've been able to go on a hike. That's shocking to me. But I can't remember any hikes more recent than that. For a gal who is refreshed, renewed, re-energized by nature... well, it's no wonder I feel on the border of insanity.

The few stresses that I listed at the beginning of this post each have their own (big) story. Each one deserves an entire blog post all its own. But that's where I run out of words. And where my brain has stopped processing. There's too much going on for me to handle. And I don't know how to deal with it.

Earlier today a dear friend called me from another state. Just to chat. To check in with me. I tried to briefly tell her about these things. I didn't want to dwell on them. But I knew she wanted to know about what was really going on in my life. So I gave her the nutshell versions, and tried to not even go into the emotions attached to each one of them. But she heard through it anyway. I got a text message from her after we hung up, saying that she was concerned because of the stress she heard in my voice. Really? And here I thought I was hiding it pretty well. She asked if there was someone local I could leave my kids with, if only for a couple of hours so I could have some alone time to regroup. (The only gal I could think of who might is the gal whose husband was in and out of ER last week. And there's no way I'm adding to her stresses. Hers are even bigger than my own.) The next few text messages from my friend made something click in my own head. I've been holding it together. I thought. I've been trying to "be there" for everyone. And I guess I've mostly succeeded. But my friend called me on it. She recognized that the volcano is going to erupt if I don't find an outlet soon. And what shook me up is... she's right. She's absolutely right. I thought I was holding it together well. But maybe holding it together isn't a good thing sometimes. It suddenly clicked that while I've been trying to "be there" for everyone else, and hold in the tears, and keep a smile on my face, and make people laugh, and keep encouraging everyone around me who is discouraged... it suddenly clicked that

I'M NOT OKAY.

I'm grieving.

I'm hurting.

I'm lonely.

I'm scared.

I'm confused.

But mostly... I'M NOT OKAY.

It took a friend to make me realize the lie I've been telling everyone - including myself. I'm thankful she gave me a wake-up call and challenged me on it. (Gently, but still, it was a challenge.) Because I don't want to be a volcano that erupts all over everyone I love most. Volcanoes are destructive. And somehow I have got to find a way to deal with the stress right now without spewing everywhere. I don't really know how. But I figured the first thing was to be honest with myself - and you.

So now you know.

One more thing: 
What time I am afraid... or anxious... or worried... or unsure... or intimidated... or bewildered... or in pain... or sad... or helpless... I will put my trust, my confidence, my hope in God.

And now you know that, too.

It's Not Bad - It's Just Different

I think I'm finally coming to realize that, contrary to popular opinion, I am NOT an extrovert. Matter of fact, the older I get, the more I realize just how introverted I really am. I crave alone time. No, I mean I seriously crave it. Maybe that's one of the reasons I enjoyed my freight job as a single gal so much. I could go off the floor, disappear into my "cave", and work at my own pace - fast or slow, and play my own music - or be completely silent, drink tea all by myself, hum, ponder, twirl, sit, tip my head to one side to look at something invisible from a new angle... and not have to worry about anyone seeing me, or talking to me, or asking me questions, or... being in my space.

Don't get me wrong. I love my family and friends. I even love spending time with them. But I like to spend time with them when and how (and for how long) that I want to see them. Perhaps that makes me selfish to some degree. But I am increasingly finding that when I spend too much time around people (especially people that like to talk a lot) I grow anxious, depressed, angry, uptight, tense, sad, and few dozen other negative things.

I used to think something was wrong with me when we would go to celebrate Christmas or Thanksgiving with my dad's family. It felt like there were people, people, people everywhere. Constant chatter. Banging and crashing from the kitchen. Loud voices. Laughter. Crying from kids. Just - noise. Too much of it. And I would go on overload, and want to go hide in a little corner where no one would exclaim over how big I had grown, or ask me questions about what I wanted to be when I grew up, or rope me into washing dishes in the middle of the frenzy of the kitchen, of babysit all the noisy little cousins. It wasn't that I disliked the extended family. (Okay, so I maybe didn't like ALL of them.) But I found that if I could disappear for a while when I started feeling that horrid overwhelmed thing coming on, that I could come back a half hour later ready to chat and laugh and be part of things again. At least until the next wave of overload hit.

As the years went by, I tried to force myself to be more outgoing, to pretend I loved being around crowds of people, loved the hustle and bustle of big cities (after all, my mom did, so that must mean I should too). I forced myself to learn how to go introduce myself to random strangers, to wear a smile and act interested - even when I wasn't. But the minute I could get away from the noise and crowd, I would go hide in my bedroom all by myself. And read a book. Or just sit. And think.

I'm sure there are some things about being introvert that indicate selfishness. And maybe I need to work on that. But I'm also finding that being a stepmom can be horridly challenging for an introvert. Sometimes I don't WANT to talk to PC and LM. Sometimes I don't feel like being with them. Or playing. Or interacting. Or reading to them. Or... well... much of anything. Sometimes I just want to go hide.

I'm attempting to find ways to bring my stress levels down when the introvert thing rears its head. I've discovered that disappearing to my bedroom for twenty or thirty minutes is hugely helpful on some days. But I can't do that every day. I've discovered that if I can distract the boys with an audio theater episode or book on CD, that my coping is helped. Because even if there is noise from the story (even chaotic noise) it is still better than having to force myself to interact with them, engage in a conversation I don't want to be having, keep a smile on my face when I'm gritting my teeth, or find myself answering them impatiently. A couple of friends recommended that I institute a "quiet hour" in the afternoon, where no one is allowed to talk. But I don't know if that would be good or bad at this point. With all the efforts I've made to teach them that it's okay to talk to adults, I'm a bit afraid that if I institute a "quiet hour" that I'll be causing a relapse that will undo all the work I've done so far.

That whole "children should be seen and not heard" thing is just plain stupid. There is a time to be quiet, yes, but there is also a time to interact. Unfortunately, the adults they were primarily with in the past taught them to be silent - all the time. And as a consequence, they were incapable of holding a normal conversation when I "acquired" them. They seemed to think that no one wanted to hear what they had to say, no one wanted to hear their thoughts or opinions or questions. That adults just wanted to be left alone and not have any interaction with children. So their only real conversations were with each other. Or their dad. But mostly with each other. In near whispers. All day long. Yeah, like I said. It was stupid. But it's what they had been taught. I'm very grateful for a few individuals in my life who have loved my boys exactly where they were at, who didn't question my boys mental faculties just because they were a bit slow with social settings and normal conversations, and who have spent the last year or so trying to draw them out and engage them in conversation. There are several people that I wish I could name right now. People who have made a difference for my boys. Because that's not something that PC and I could change by ourselves. There is an elderly man at church, who wasn't put off by BB's staring and silence when he was asked a question - and who kept trying - until BB is now finally chatting and smiling with him. There is an elderly woman who passes candy to them during church, with a wink and a smile, and doesn't demand a thank-you - and has been celebrating with us at every single small victory along the way. They adore her. There's the next door neighbor (a retired school teacher) who continues to chat and give books and hire LM for small jobs. There are several good friends of mine that have cheerfully tolerated "odd" behavior while my boys were (okay, ARE) learning to hold normal conversations, and interact in social settings. Have I mentioned I love these people? I love them a lot. I love that they love my boys. I love that they are willing to come into the "mess" and help us through it. Help us grow. And yet love us and accept us all - right where we are in the moment. 

I didn't mean to explain quite that much tonight. But all of that is tied up in my discoveries about my own tendencies to be introverted. And in all of my juggling between my own needs and the boys' needs.

Okay, I'm admitting right now - I have NO idea what I'm doing. I don't know how to handle these things. I don't know how to meet the boys needs, and yet not ignore my own. 

I need wisdom. And I do know Who gives that. So I'll just keep praying about it all.