Happiness, Joy, and the BS of Cancer...

Updates….

I feel like it’s been so long since I blogged that if I start writing, I’ll have that Great American Novel ready to go, before I can stop…It’s been a while; I think that despite my best intentions, motherhood/employment has me putting writing on the backburner.

And that’s okay.

I officially give myself permission to write when I can.

A few weeks ago, I thought, “Sheesh, it seems like I only write when I’m struggling with something that I just can’t process any other way. Things are good right now. Guess I have nothing to write about!”

Oh, how a few weeks can change things!

Sometime during the month of April, I was driving through our valley with my son in the back seat, and I was thinking about how beautiful life is for our little family right now. After so many years of heartache, our little world was as picturesque as the scenery I was driving through….but before I could embrace the happiness of that moment, I had an internal fight:

“Don’t say you’re happy. Don’t say it out loud. If you say it out loud, it will be taken away from you. It always is. You’re not allowed to be happy. God doesn’t want you to be happy. You’re not allowed to be happy.”

“That’s ridiculous. He loves us. We ARE allowed to be happy.”

“No, you’re not; just look at what happened to David’s job, to your daughter, to your car—you’re NOT allowed to be happy. God wants you to struggle so you can be broken and totally rely on Him. You’re NOT ALLOWED TO BE HAPPY.”

“I refuse to accept that.”

SHOUTS IN CAR:” I AM HAPPY!  I AM HAPPY!  (Toddler looks up in back seat, smiles beatifically, claps) I AM HAPPY!! THANK YOU JESUS! THANK YOU FOR MY FAMILY! THANK YOU FOR MY CAR! THANK YOU LORD!”

I was so nervous, so scared to proclaim my own joy…it was an unbelievable fight, to make that declaration…to state for the record that yes, Cassidy Sarah Cooley is irrevocably HAPPY.

The next internal monologue went as follows:

“Oh, NOW you’ve done it. NOW you’ve pissed off The Enemy. Now he’s going to come at you full-force; you’ll be lucky if you have a roof over your head, by the time he’s done with you. It’s gonna be Job all over again, you idiot. Why’d you have to do that? Why’d you have to flaunt your happiness like that?!?!?”

“Hey! It’s okay! God is bigger, He’s greater, right? God gets the glory in all of it-Jesus loves me, like the song says! It took me so long to say that I honestly feel like He loves me…there were so many years of feeling like the heavens were silent…but they’re not, and He’s not, and even when I don’t hear Him, I know He’s there, and I know He’s not the Cosmic Killjoy that was beaten into my head. I am allowed to be happy because He is a God of joy! And even if the world caves in, I know He’s there…it’s okay.”

Jesus gives us permission to be happy, in a world that tells us we have to be afraid of having it all taken away.

He gives us permission to be happy in the face of the unknown, to have joy in the face of “what if?”

He not only ALLOWS us to be happy; He CAUSES us to be happy. He is the Bringer of True Joy, and He celebrates those moments with us. He gets no pleasure from our sadness; why do we paint Him to be such a masochist? God does not manipulate us to get His way by forcing pain and sadness in our lives; the Church has done a marvelous job of treating Him like that’s His MO, but it’s just not true.

He loves our joy, and He uses it to bring us closer to Him. He can use our heartache to do the same, and I’ve seen that in my own life, but He doesn’t force it. Joy is a much easier teaching tool than sadness, I believe, and I love having it in my life after so many years of missing out on it (by my own decisions).

 So, there I was, celebrating my family in my country valley, singing along to the radio, and embracing joy in a whole, new way at 55mph, and attempting to stave off the figurative thoughts of “you’ll shoot your eye out” as I headed home…

Fast-forward a couple of weeks…

April 29^th, I had a routine physical. Toward the end of the visit (I had said I was feeling so much better, because I have a nebulizer now, and it’s a Godsend!), my PCP wanted to follow up on an enlarged thyroid that she had noticed back in November. My labs were all normal, so I wasn’t concerned, but she sent me that day for an ultrasound, which showed a mass.

Well, so what? 50% of women in my age bracket have some sort of thyroid mass/nodule. 95% of them are nothing…So, I didn’t tell anyone. My doctor said I had to have a biopsy, and I’d need help with Jericho when it was all over, so I waited a week, and reluctantly told my long-suffering husband, who agreed to come with me (I was afraid, at this point, because biopsies are scary).

Can I just say that biopsies in general are unpleasant? That was the first one I was awake for. I don’t want to repeat that procedure again.

In this age of modern medicine, that freaking biopsy was inconclusive, after all of that discomfort! I was then sent for a CT…also inconclusive. The only thing we knew for a fact was that the mass was about 1” around, it was on the left node of my thyroid, and my lymph nodes looked weird.

Great.

I was referred to a surgeon (who was super-kind about my vocal cord fears), and a date was scheduled to get The Thing out. 6/4, I went into St. Anthony’s (ST. ANTHONY’S?!?!? HAVEN’T I ALWAYS SAID I WOULDN’T SEND MY DOG THERE? WTH AM I DOING IN ST. ANTHONY’S?!?!?!?) to have a nodule/node removed, and a biopsy performed while I was in surgery. My parents, my extra parents, and my husband were all patiently waiting; we’d all prayed together with the OR attendants before the procedure, and as I went under, I was okay. One of the OR attendants was in the room for the sole purpose of monitoring my vocal chords. Cancer really didn’t cross my mind; just SAVE MY VOICE! The thought of my son growing up without me being able to sing to him was what broke my heart into a million pieces before this procedure; I could care less about cancer. I just need to sing. It’s like breathing for my soul, so knowing that OR attendant was there? THE BEST.

Anyways, at some point during the surgery, the biopsy came back. To everyone’s shock, I have cancer. Papillary Carcinoma-that’s what they call it. They say that if you’re going to get cancer, it’s the best kind, because it has the best prognosis.

The “best” kind?!? Ohhhhhhhkaaaaaaayyyy…Sure, if you say so.

It’s been kind of a rock-the-boat moment for the family; when I came to after the surgery, it was my poor mom that had to break the news to me. I have no idea why the doctor didn’t tell me himself, and although he seems like a kind enough person, I don’t think my mother should have had to do that. It’s a tremendous burden, to tell your child that they’re ill. I don’t care if I’m 37—she’s still my mother, and I’m still her baby. Some things, a mama shouldn’t have to do.

Either way, when the surgeon got into my neck, he found a mass that surpassed the 1” diameter that they thought they saw on the tests that I’ve probably paid a fortune for. Instead, the tumor was the size of a small lemon (or of a lime), and was so entangled that my entire thyroid had to be removed.

I really have to stop losing organs, people.

The Monday after the surgery, we met with my endocrinologist. Although I find her staff questionable (in both efficiency and in manners—I pull no punches when it comes to medical customer service), she seems to know her stuff (and I do not think she would be fun to work for, LOL—most geniuses aren’t), and I am hopeful.  She immediately started me on a drug called Liothyronine that was supposed to temporarily take over for my missing thyroid…but it made me incredibly sick. L This means that until I complete cancer treatment, I can’t take anything for my thyroid…which means

I

Am

Beyond

Exhausted.

It’s like, New Mom Tired x 1000%.

I’ve never been so fatigued in my life; I’m so thankful for David, because he’s working overtime to pick up my slack.

Next week, I meet with an oncologist to determine the course of treatment. The “nice” thing about thyroid cancer is that (from what I’ve read) you have a radioactive scan, then a radioactive treatment, then a radioactive scan, and then you’re done, until you have to repeat the scan next year. Thyroid cancer cells react differently to radiation, so you don’t have to have repeated treatments or chemo like with other cancers. I believe that even applies to my lymph nodes; according to my pathology, the cancer metastasized to my lymph nodes, but until I have the scan done, we will not know how much. The surgeon removed one lymph node during my surgery, so that’s one less mutant I have to deal with.

After the cancer treatment has concluded (which will involve some quarantine time), then we begin the process of working with the endocrinologist to get my thyroid replacement medicine figured out. That process is concerning to me…but we’ll take it day-by-day.

If you’re the praying type, here’s what we’d like prayer for:

• The fatigue…the mind-numbing, day-wrecking fatigue. I have a job, I have a child, I have a house. These are things that are incredibly important to me, and I need to keep all of them. I need them to not fall apart around my head. I need energy and I need to be safe about it. With my very complicated medical history, I’m not about to start taking any kind of supplement/oil/whatever that “gives you energy!!”  So, the fatigue is a huge hurdle for me and my family.
•  Radiation: I have a history of getting very, very sick from radioactive isotopes. In fact, I don’t eat shellfish, because after an arthrogram in 2000, I was so sick that my MD told me since radioactive isotopes are derived from shellfish, I’d better stay away from iodine and shellfish for the rest of my life. I miss crab legs…and I am very concerned about any kind of radioactive anything. This will be a big part of our discussion with the oncologist.
• Quarantine: I don’t know how we’re going to do this. I know where I’ll stay, but I don’t know how David will manage with Jericho.
• Thyroid medication: I’m asking for prayer now, because figuring this medicine out can take some time. I can’t start it until the cancer treatment is concluded; I’m praying that it’s figured out quickly, so I can get some energy back.
• Our House: We have some repairs that need to be done. They’re not urgent, but they bother me. I’d like to get them out of my brain.

I’ve spent all of this time going over all of this medical stuff, but I opened this very long blog with an internal monologue about being afraid to celebrate happiness, because I just knew that if I did, my world would cave in….and sure enough, I freaking got cancer.

What does that say, and how do I respond? How do I respond to people that say stupid things like, “Aww, you just can’t catch a break, can you?” “You just have the worst of luck!”

Here is how I respond:

I had that thought the other day: “Aww, man, just as I say I’m happy, just as I’m finally bold enough to say it out loud, I get this. What the crap, Lord?” My next immediate thought was: “NO!  NO!!  I am NOT going down that rabbit hole!!! NO! I did NOT get cancer because I decided to actually admit that I was happy!!!!!!!  And it’s not ‘WAS’ happy! I STILL AM!!!!”  God did NOT give me cancer, or allow me to get cancer, because I said I was happy! What a crock! What a load of crap, that we let ourselves believe!  These are the thoughts that as Christians, we have to take captive. We can’t explain the whys and the hows, but we can’t let them run our lives, either. That’s such a pitfall—we can’t get stuck in all of that.

Do you know what I know?

 I know facts: Thyroid cancer is easily treated (although this process isn’t fun). It has a low chance of recurrence (although it is possible). Statistics are crap (I had a 5% chance of getting this stupid thing). I have wonderful health insurance (although I’m sure this is gonna cost us).

I know other facts: My family is an incredible support system. My husband is amazing, and we will figure out JD’s care. JD’s daycare is fantastic, and is very understanding. My employer is understanding, and I am incredibly grateful.

Most importantly, more than facts, I know truth: Jesus knows the outcome of all of this. He is the source of true joy, in easy times, and in times of struggle. My picturesque drive in April was indicative of putting grain in a storehouse; those times when things are beautiful and perfect? Those are the times when you get your battle gear prepped and ready. You know it’s coming. I had that feeling back in April; when I really sat down and meditated over my drive, I felt like a battle was on its way, and I was right. Times of peace are not times of laziness; they’re times of reparation and preparation. You can have joy in both times of peace and times of war; God is the same in both.

Why have I had one medical thing after another? I have no idea. I don’t know how to answer that question, and when I’m asked, I’m embarrassed about it (please don’t ask me that question). I don’t know, and I don’t understand, and I don’t know how to pursue an answer (if there is one). I know that’s a field-day question in my head, and it’s a constant source of shame that I struggle with. I just don’t know, and outside of determining to make healthier choices, I don’t know what to do. I’m praying for wisdom in that area, in particular…for the self-control to do what I know I need to do, and for the discernment to know what information I’m given is actually good, solid information.  After working in alternative healthcare for 11 years, I have a ton of resources to dig back through, which is in process. It’s a lot.

On Sunday, my husband was sitting on the couch. I was so tired, that he took my hand and pulled me into him; he is so strong, and has the most amazingly broad shoulders. I laid there, snuggled up into him, and JD crawled up on the couch. The three of us sat on our old couch, snuggled up, watching TV, and I thought back to my drive in April, where I shouted how happy I was in my car.

I’m happy.

I’m so happy.

I’m deliriously happy.

I’m going to continue to say it in the face of this gnat called cancer, not because I’m trying to be brave, or out of some false sense of duty, or to elicit some kind of a compliment or response.

I’m going to continue to say it because it’s true.

There is wonderful, beautiful joy in my heart because I’m not chained by the thought that trials mean God doesn’t love me. Life IS hard. Things suck sometimes. Jesus LOVES us—He has crazy, insane love in His heart for us, for ME, and the ups and downs in my life do not determine the level of that crazy love. He just loves—it’s what He’s made of!!!  MY TRIALS DO NOT DETERMINE THE LEVEL OF HIS LOVE FOR ME. I’ve said it twice—I need to tattoo it on my head, for when I am tempted to get trapped in that mindset.

Sometimes, my trials affect my love for Him. Sometimes, I get mad; I say dumb things, I forget His provision, and I let all of that steal my joy—it happens, and I’m sure it will happen throughout the course of this cancer-schmancer BS. That’s okay. He still loves me the same. He’s not a stupid human that’s occasionally ruled by her emotions.

He loves me.

Because He loves me—There is joy in the sucky parts of life. And in the awesome parts of life. And in the mundane parts of life. There’s joy. His joy.

#100HappyDays #100HappyBalloons

Have you heard about this campaign? I haven't read a whole lot about it, but it seems pretty self-explanatory: Write about something happy for 100 days, and hashtag it #100HappyDays.
(http://100happydays.com/) You're also supposed to come up with your own hashtag, to limit your personal publicity (and to allow the campaign to spot you). I think mine will be #100HappyBalloons.
Because we ALL know: Cassidy loves balloons.
Every day, you submit a happy thought, happy reality, and/or a happy picture, via Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram. With all of the joy that surrounds me, this should not be a difficult concept...unless I get so wrapped up in my own head that I forget to see the beauty in the madness...which happens...because I am an inconsiderate dope. :)
But I'm also an intrinsically upbeat person, 21 days out of 28.
And I like to smile.
Usually.
For me, this will take me through the remainder of summer, until September 26th. There is absolutely nothing significant about this time frame or these dates; I just decided to start today. During the next 100 days, I know several things will be happening: Jericho will start daycare :(. I will keep working. David will keep working (and we will continue to pray that he finds a new job).
The sun will continue to rise, and set, and the world will continue to spin, for the next 100 days.
So, here we go! 100 Happy Thoughts!!!!!

Day 1: #ThrowbackThursday (#TBT) makes me happy. Looking at old pictures, & hearing old songs, makes me remember the fun of my childhood. #100HappyDays #100HappyBalloons

That Guy I Married Turned Into Somebody's Dad!

Every day is an adventure.
When I got married, one of my favorite things that my new husband said to me, was that he hoped people would be jealous of our marriage, and of the adventures we'd have together.
Oh, that man!
Mind you, this is a man who picked I Corinthians 2:9 as our wedding verse: No eye has seen, no ear has heard, what God has conceived for those who love Him...(CC paraphrase). I should have known what I was getting into!
For only being married 8 years, we have lived a lifetime. Granted, the loss of our daughter aged us in ways that most people will not understand. We had been married less than two years when she died; the crises, the heartache, the faith, and the trial fused us together to a degree not seen in marriages so young. I credit my husband with keeping our faith together; without him, I would have drown in a sea of wine and xanax. He kept us focused, through everything.
We've been through the loss of a child, unemployment, multiple surgeries, a near-death experience--I mean, sheesh! When you list it like that, it sounds like a Lifetime movie! 
But every day IS an adventure.
I LIKE my husband. We bicker...we spat. One of our friends calls us "The Puppies," and I think that's an accurate reflection. My neuroses are met with calm. My temper tantrums are met with reminders that it's "not that big of a deal." His temper tantrums (don't let the smile fool you--David is CAPABLE of a temper tantrum of epic proportions, LOL!) are generally met with eye rolls and reminders that everyone encounters stoplights (it's not a conspiracy against you, honey).
He holds my hand when we cross the street (Nah, it's not a romantic thing...if he didn't, I would probably have been hit by a car by now).
He will NOT dance with me at weddings (unless it's in the back of the room).
He has photographed the best memories of our lives, and somehow manages to bring the emotion of the moment into the frame.
We're a pretty good team, really.
And as we've embarked on the greatest adventure of all (parenthood!), I've learned to appreciate our "team" even more.
It really does take a village...My mom and sister have been incredibly helpful with JD. David's parents have surprised us with  formula and diapers on several occasions. Dad has come over to make sure we still have running water (plumbing! EEEK!). We really work together to make this little person have a seamless life. But at the end of the day,
It's just me and this man.
This man that I married--I always knew he'd be a great dad. I was right.
We change diapers. We make bottles. We feed the baby in the middle of the night. We pick out onesies or jammies. We get groceries. We make sure our dog doesn't feel missed.
WE is the key word.
I've heard of families where the husband works and comes home, and leaves the children to his wife. He probably works very hard to provide for his family, and is tired when he gets home.  That might work for that family...but it doesn't work for us. We both work 40 hour weeks. I have a very long commute. When the day is done, we are BOTH tired...but there's that beautiful little face that smiles when he sees us, and though we're tired, we still have him to care for.
And we love it.
We prayed for parenthood. We passionately sought the Lord, and petitioned Him for a child.He heard us--He answered us.
And now we are living an adventure that is everything we hoped for, nothing like we expected, and radically life-changing in every way. It's radically life-CHALLENGING in every way. We're tired; we're happy. We're stressed; we have peace in Christ. It's a beautiful dichotomy.
I'm finally getting to a place where I am comfortable taking JD out. On my day off, I'm trying to socialize; this summer, I will be trying to take him out to places I enjoy (without overheating), even if it's just to the mall. At some point, we will make our GHOP debut--by Friday, I've been so tired from work that I haven't been able to go. I can't wait to take JD, though!
I'd like to start planning vacations with him...I'll happily take your tips and tricks for vacationing with a baby!
Every day is different; every day brings a new milestone for JD. And every day includes opportunities to see my husband love my son...and that makes my heart almost explode with happiness.
Yeah, David--we're a great team. And we never saw life like this coming.
I hope we continue to have amazing, wonderful, unforeseen adventures together...

Embracing the Happy...(The Parable of the Chocolate Bunny)

I’ve been pretty open with my struggles with fear and anxiety. I’m a born worrier…I think I came out of the womb wondering what was going on, afraid that I was going to miss something. I fought sleep (man, am I reaping that field with JD!!!), learned to read at an early age, jumped into every conversation (whether I was supposed to, or not), and regularly have those what-I-should-have-said conversations with myself. I am just not a person who comes by peace easily.

That’s not how we’re supposed to be.

Meekness, quietness—they don’t come naturally. It all boils down to that simple, four-letter word-from-hell: Fear.

And just when I think I’m making great strides in overcoming little pieces of it, something will come along and set me back. It affects every level of my life--home, work, motherhood—and it’s something that I have to keep in constant prayer over. “Lord, let me trust you.” It’s not just being afraid; it’s about not trusting God. When we trust Him, when we believe in His perfect love, we are simply not afraid.

I have to rest in Him.

I had a conversation lately that really sparked in my heart. A friend of mine had prayed for something for so long; now that her answer was looking right at her, she was afraid to embrace it.

 It was like a kid in a candy store…Every day, she passes by that candy store, looking at the big, chocolate rabbit. For years, she sees this rabbit. She sees other people buy that chocolate rabbit…she sees them eat the delicious candy, and she wishes she could have a bite, but no, not now…and every day, she walks by. Suddenly, one day, the candymaker comes out with a box for her. He’s seen her walk by his shop—he knows she’s there, even though she didn’t always know he could see her. He knows that little girl would love to have that big, handmade chocolate bunny. So one day, he lovingly wraps it up, puts it in the box, and he carries it out to her.

She can’t believe it. For her?!?  But…it’s never been for her! It’s always been for everyone else! She just can’t get over it—Really?!?!?  So, she takes the chocolate bunny…she’s ever-so-thankful…

But she’s afraid to eat it.

What if it melts?

What if the candymaker gets mad, or changes his mind? What if he takes it back?

She didn’t earn it. What if he sends her a bill?

She can’t even make herself take that chocolate bunny out of the box…

Yet every day, she still walks by the candy shop, and looks into the windows.

One day, the candymaker comes out, and asks her what she’s doing. “Didn’t I give you a beautiful, big chocolate bunny?” he says…

She tells him, “Yes, of course…”

“Well, did you try it?”

“No.”

“Did you open it?”

“No.”

“Why not? Aren’t you pleased with your gift?”

She finally tells him the truth: “I am afraid that you will change your mind…I am afraid that it wasn’t a gift, that you’ll take it back.  It just doesn’t seem real.”

It sounds kind of silly…especially when you compare it to chocolate. I mean, I am THE LAST person that earth that would ever just look at chocolate in a box (unless it’s my chocolate monkey from Crown Candy; I’m saving that for a special occasion). It just makes sense: You get a gift, you open it, you put it to good use! Otherwise, not only do you not get to reap the benefits of the gift; you also offend the giver!

How many times have I done that to the Lord? How many times has He given me a gift that I was too afraid to use?  Just like my friend that I spoke with earlier this week: How many times have I been afraid to Embrace The Happy?

We have these things that we pray for…not just gifts, like God is some kind of Bob Barker; we have deep heart’s desires that we pray for, that we earnestly seek His face for. Some of my friends are praying for husbands…true men of God that will love and respect them, that will raise a Godly family with them. For me, personally, I prayed for a child—crazy, drunk prayers like Hannah in I Samuel. These are the desperate, soul-wrenching prayers of a heart that’s on fire. And yet, when God decides that it’s time, we recoil in fear….

We are afraid to Embrace The Happy.

My first Mothers’ Day is approaching. I talked about it a little bit, earlier this week; but the more I think about it, the more afraid I am of the joy that I’m feeling. It sounds ridiculous! I am afraid to admit that yes, Cassidy Cooley is truly, madly, deeply HAPPY! Not just happy….I have joy in my heart!

I am crazy with joy!

If you could see inside my brain, all you’d see is Tigger bouncing around—that is how happy I am!!!!

Yet I find myself holding back, not telling anyone how I feel, because I am afraid that if I talk about it, that Smite button will find me, and I will be back in the Horrible Valley again…

I am afraid to Embrace The Happy…

But I have to.

So does my friend…They have an opportunity, to stop for a few minutes, and breathe. The candymaker has given them the Chocolate Bunny. Are they going to enjoy it, or are they going to leave it in the box, out of fear?

I want to enjoy it. I want to embrace every moment. I want to seize the opportunity, to enjoy it in full and living color, and to celebrate every breath, every step, and every day. I want to wrap myself in this moment, and leave a monument of joy to the Lord. I want to create a Selah in my life, and just press pause. I don’t want to let fear derail me, or to keep me from dancing on this mountaintop…Yes, I know that we can’t stay on the mountain forever….but when you’ve spent so many years in the valley, you appreciate the time that you get to bask on the peaks.

Fear will not win. It will not take this away from me…and the only one that can prevent that, is me.

To all of my friends who are in that valley, and who think they will never again see the light of day: You will. It takes time…it takes healing…and it takes Jesus. It takes support from friends and family that you can’t be afraid to ask for; it takes support from friends and family that they can’t be afraid to give. As unbelievable as it sounds, the valley is temporary. “Temporary “ means different things to different people. For some of us, it’s years. But I promise you—God is faithful. He may seem like He’s a thousand years away, but He’s right there through it all. You will emerge. And one day, you will find yourself able to Embrace The Happy once again…

I will celebrate this moment with my whole heart.

I will not hold anything back; I will not reserve myself because of fear.

I will not be afraid.

I will Embrace The Happy.

Calendar Girl...

I used to write a lot of prose...but for the last couple of years, I just haven't gone in that direction. Probably because I'd rather blog, and prose tends to be morose (stop that rhyming, I mean it!).
Every year, I sit down and put together a photo calendar for the current year that's made up of pictures from the previous year. I also do a photo book. I have a nice collection--I have a book for every year except for our first year, and at some point, I'll get around to that. I also don't have one for our wedding, but I have a real scrapbook for that--I think that counts. I rarely print pictures; the digital albums I have are nice. When I upload digital pictures, I am careful to organize them by month so that these projects aren't monumental. I've streamlined it; I can get the year done in about an hour.
Last year's book is so tainted.
It's so HAPPY.
I mean, sickeningly happy.
I am not complaining--I've had too many years of sadness.
Going through those 2012 pictures--you can see the joy on my face. It's an expression I haven't seen since I was pregnant with Hannah...it's hope, it's joy, it's ecstatic-ness...it spills over into every single picture from June-December, and even now, in the midst of the struggle of sleeplessness and emotion, it's there.
I am happy.
I'm afraid to say that...seems like I've spent so much time thinking that I would never be allowed to be happy again, that I'm afraid to accept that day may have arrived.
Can I actually give myself permission to be happy?
To be happy without being afraid of God?
To stop thinking, for real, that He's a Cosmic Killjoy?
I know He's none of those things..He loves us. But when you've had your heart broken so badly, the enemy creeps in. He messes with your head--he lies to you, and he convinces you that God couldn't love you...that He takes away your joy to keep you desperate. It's not true...but I'm scarred from believing that lie for so long, and even though last year I began to find my way away from that lie, I'm still tainted with it...still attacked with it...
So I hold my little guy, and I cry...and I pray...and I have faith that we will make it to 30 days with Jericho.
People tell me to stop worrying...to stop comparing...and I know I should, but it's nearly impossible. I'm doing things with him that I never had the chance to do with Hannah, and I'm fighting fear with every step.
We're at 26 days.
On Monday, I will breathe. On Tuesday, I will rejoice--one month old...He'll have outlived his sister by far.
These are comparisons that sneak in, that try to steal my joy...but they can't have it. I won't let it. I will fight these thoughts...I will hold my son...and I will thank God for the life that he has, for the life that he WILL have. I will not let this fear steal my joy.
I will celebrate my son.
I will celebrate joy.
I will be happy in this moment...for the bath times, for the feedings, even for the lack of sleep. I will be happy.
I will not be afraid to rejoice in the gift of life...
My pictures from 2012 will mark the celebration...the joy on my face in those pictures will spill over into every picture from 2013, and I will not see the "hollow girl" that I was for so long, rear her ugly head ever again...God willing, I will never have to go down that road again.
I will not write this in fear.
I will write this in healing...
In hope...
And in a victory that comes from answered prayers to a God Who loves us beyond belief.
I'm getting an inkling of how He feels about me, every time I look into those beautiful eyes...My son looks like my husband, but every now and then, I catch an expression and I wonder...just maybe...he might resemble me...Those are my fingers and toes, my legs...my eyebrows...that might be my nose (sorry, kid!)...That's David's chin, but those might be my ears...
He's a reflection of both of us...and I've never loved anyone like I love him. It's different, this time around...I wasn't sure I could love anyone as much as I loved Hannah, but I do...I love him the same, but different...I get it.
God loves us all the same...the childless, the Mom with 15 kids, the teenager who's confused about who they are, the wanderer who eventually finds his way home...He loves us all the same. He always knows where we are, and He always calls us home...He always opens His arms to us...
I hold my little guy to my chest, in his Moby wrap; I think of how I used to tell God that I just wanted to hang out in His shirtpocket, closest to His heart. I imagine myself held in the Father's arms like I hold JD, and I find peace in that moment...
All JD feels in that place is my heartbeat, and there's security in that closeness. That's where I want to be: where I can feel the Father's heartbeat, the rhythm of His love and peace.
Where I can feel His joy in knowing that His daughter finally knows she is loved...
The days of the week are passing by, and the subliminal timeline in my head is dwindling even now...
There is peace in His arms...
And there is happiness that is undeniable in that place...
I'm working on learning how to live that way...I have a long way to go. But that girl in the pictures I see? She sure looks like she's got it down...
I'll get there...