Day 9: What You Hope Your Future Will Be Like...

I'm a huge fan of the X-Men. I've liked them since I was a kid; I'd watch the cartoon, and I was fascinated with Rogue. Now the cartoons are on Netflix, and I will admit to binge-watching them on occasion. I wasn't overly thrilled with the movie's portrayal of Rogue, but whatever. They'll eventually get it right! I totally loved the X-Men: The First Class movie.
A bunch of kids...total freaks and outcasts...so uncomfortable in their own skin...Young people, who already have so much to deal with, have the added "benefit" of powers and bodies that seem out of their control...And two "saviors" who come in, give them direction and hope, and eventually give them a purpose and a sense of worth. 
The kids have no idea what's coming...They have no idea what's next, or what they can do...They don't understand their role, but WE do, because we've seen the other X-Men movies. They don't understand that they're not outcasts, but we do, because we know about Dr. Xavier's awesome school (that we all secretly wish we could go to). We understand, because we know what their future holds.
I have no idea what my future holds. 
This blog challenge has already asked about where I hope to be in 10 years, and frankly, that's about as far out as I can let myself think. Life is precious--why do I want to waste time with would've/could've/should've/might happen? The Bible says not to freak out about the future; I have enough of a challenge, not freaking out about TONIGHT. My goals are simple: Stay married. Stay in love. Stay communicative with that guy I married. Be a mom, but only after being a wife (which is hard, because in my head, I want to be a mom, first...but that's actually bad parenting--unless you're a single parent--I can't be a good mom, unless I can put being a wife, first, because it takes the both of us together to raise our son. Neither of us can do it alone; learning that new dependence on each other is pushing us into a new phase of our marriage which is not easy. As most new parents do, we are struggling to communicate with each other, and struggling to run our household, jobs, etc.; we are SO dependent on God!) But seriously--I hope my future reflects just a little bit of that "white picket fence" family that I always envied as a child..just a little bit...because those Brady-types are WAY too boring and polite for me! :)
Besides having a complete family in the future (well, as complete as it's going to be...someone will always be missing...) I'd really, truly like to be debt-free. Financial issues are the biggest thing that we fight about in our marriage, and we've honestly struggled quite a bit. I'd really, really like to be in a place where if we're called to the mission field, that we can simply go. That requires a simpler kind of living than we've had. There are a lot of practices that have to be given up, and we're in the beginning processes of working through those. It's time to strip down, cut back, and pare away...I think there's a freedom there, that we are on our way to discovering...
I want to write...I want to sing...I want to publish...I have a huge list of "wants," but I don't know if they're what my future looks like. I think that, just like when I was a kid, my dreams of being a wife and a mother are what I want my future to continue to be. "Just" that. There's such a satisfaction there...I don't NEED anything else in my future. If I'm never published, that's fine...if I never record that demo that's always been in the back of my mind, it's okay. If my Great American Novel never comes out of this keyboard, it's okay. 
I need to embrace that level of contentment on a minute-by-minute basis....I hope, in my future, that I've learned to apply that to everything from food to shopping.

Philippians 4:11-13 ESV 

"Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me."

I don't know what the future holds. I'm not an X-man. I don't have any cool powers, and no one has made a movie about my life or my contribution to society. However, God took care of a lot of it when He wrote the Bible, because that love letter from Him tells me that regardless of what's in my future, it's going to be just fine. As the saying goes, "I know not what the future holds, but I know Who holds my future." It's true. He holds me. So, my future looks beautiful...

Noodle-Bugs and Sunrises

During the week, it feels like we’ve established an effective “routine” with our son. Most days, I get up before work to feed him; this allows my husband to get a little more sleep (he takes the last feeding of the evening, so that I can get a little more sleep—it’s a good trade-off!). The only problem is, that early in the morning, JD is not necessarily awake.

I find myself blowing zerberts on tiny cheeks and tickling baby feet in an effort to wake him up to feed him…and this is after the diaper change! He’s a sound sleeper, like his daddy. 

When he finally comes around, I’m rewarded with the most beautiful smile in the world. I promptly forget how tired, crabby, or sore I am; I can’t help but to smile back. Someone at church kissed his little cheek the other day, and got the same smile; she said, “He likes kisses! You must kiss him a lot!” 

All the time…

Every chance I get…

I know the day will come when I will hear, “Eww, Momma! That’s gross!”

And even though my mama’s heart will crack just a little bit,

I will kiss him anyways.

He’s going to have to deal with it for the rest of his life.

So, this morning was pretty typical, although he seemed more tired than usual. He’s got a cold, and he didn’t sleep well. Couple that with the morons that see fit to blow up fireworks at 10:00 on a weeknight, and I didn’t sleep well, either. Waking him up this morning took a herculean effort.

Lots of kisses!  Lots of zerberts! Lots of tickling!  So. Much. Wooooooorrrrkkkk (insert sarcastic overtones)!!! 

He’s so stinkin’ cute.

The cold has made him pretty cranky this week, although it seems my day with him was the worst. David had him all day yesterday, and I was so happy to hear that the fussiness was minimal. It seems like he saved his best screaming fits for ME. Yay. By Tuesday’s end, I was exhausted, and wondering if I was just terrible at this stuff? I don’t think so…but I bet I walked 100 miles with that child, in my living room alone. There’s not much you can do for a baby with a cold, except run the humidifier. I’ve also been rubbing him down with Vicks, eucalyptus, and lavender, and praying A LOT. We did make a frantic run to the pediatrician after he went kind of listless on me; after a nap, he seemed normal, so I felt a lot better.

Anyways, this morning, he was so sleepy…holding him was like holding a doll filled with sandbag. Every time he lays like that, I’m reminded just how precious he is…my little wet noodle-bug! 

He feels secure enough with me, to sleep peacefully.

He feels secure enough with me, to smile at me, and snuggle into my chest.

He feels safe with me…

As I was driving into work this morning, and caught the sun rising behind the St. Louis skyline, I couldn’t help but to stop, turn off the radio, and pray. God paints the most amazing wake-up calls! How could I not be thankful? How could I not pause and celebrate a Lord that loves us enough to make THAT?

I snuggle the bundle of sheer happiness in my arms, and think about the sacrifice of Jesus. I’m sorry, y’all, but I would NOT let my son die for you. Ain’t happening.

Yet another reason why I am not God.

I would die for my son. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for my son. There’s another person inside of me that is a ferocious beast of a bear that would seriously end someone who tried to harm my son. They’d be done for.

Yet our Father stood back and let the world beat, maim, torture, and kill His baby Boy.

What kind of Crazy Love is THAT?!?!?!?!?

I can’t even comprehend it. I start to think about it, and I get physically ill, thinking of what the Father went through.  

My pregnancies have completely revolutionized how I view the Crucifixion…how I view various types and shadows in Scripture…I cannot comprehend His love…

He holds us in His arms…We find rest.

Just like JD knows he can flop like a wet noodle in Mama’s arms, we know we can rest in the embrace of Jesus…

I recently found out that I have to have yet another surgery. My initial response was to call my mother in tears (I actually woke her up, which probably wasn’t my best move), and to freak out about my job, about being out of medical leave, how am I going to take care of my son, etc (not in that order). As usual, she reminded me that God is bigger, which I’ve struggled with realizing this week.

I’m not looking forward to this. Frankly, I’ve been cut on WAY too much for this lifetime. This is my 5^th abdominal surgery, and my 7^th overall. I’m tired of anesthesia, tired of hospitals, tired of nurses, and tired of being “broken.” I’m aggravated that it’s come to this, and I’m scared.

This morning, I was reminded of my place.

It isn’t my place, to be afraid.

It isn’t my place, to worry about my job.

It isn’t my place, to make plans and preparations, and to freak out if things don’t work out according to my order.

It isn’t my place, to stress.

It is my place to pray about this stuff…

It is my place to model my heart after my son…

To lie in the arms of the Father…

And to rest…

I feel safe enough with Him…

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.

Breaking the Pieces Back Together...Adventures in Postpartum Depression

It's been a while since I wrote anything...but you can't blame me! I've been a temporary SAHM, learning the ins-and-outs of new motherhood and feeling like every day is a minor mountain to climb. It keeps me busier than I ever realized!  I've eschewed makeup for mornings with JD, and I currently live in my pajamas. Learning a "new normal" is a full-time gig that I do NOT look forward to giving up when I go back to work! Of course, I actually like my job, which is nice...but motherhood is, and always has been, where my heart is. Wish it paid the bills! But, I digress...
About 4 weeks post-birth, something unexpected happened to me...something I had been warned about, but chose to ignore until it was almost too late.  I believed a lie.  I believed everyone else I knew was a Supermom that had everything figured out, and that I was the only one who failed at motherhood. I just knew I sucked at this. He cried; I cried. I pumped; I cried. I woke up; I cried. I fed him; I cried. I called my mom; I cried. I went to the doctor; I cried. I literally got to the point where I could not stop crying. I started believing that David and I had made a terrible mistake, and that we should have never traveled down this path...that now it was too late, and I was failing miserably. I could not stop an internal rant that I. Had. Failed.
I had been warned.
Postpartum Depression hit me like a wall over the head.
What right do I have, to cry this much? How could I, who prayed and begged God for this for so long, be so sad? How? I could barely function...
The doctors had warned me; the nurses had warned me. Even the lactation consultants had warned me. Not only was I, as a woman with history of hormonal issues, at a higher risk for PPD; as a mother who was having a child after a loss, PPD was almost a given. I scoffed at the warnings. I didn't believe it. I knew that after all we had been through, there was no way God was going to let me go through that. Motherhood was everything I'd ever wanted; what could possibly make me sad now that I had my dream?
I was wrong.
I shut down.
One morning, after dreaming about playing with both of my children (I hadn't thought about never being able to do that, until that dream), the reality of raising the first child after a loss came to a head. The pressures of the last 3 months broke...the hospital stay, the anxiety, the fear, the self-imposed solitary confinement, the medications, the side effects of the medications (there were 17 at one point), the endless doctors' visits, the consultations and research, the information overload, the lack of sleep--I fell apart. I actually walked out of the bedroom as JD lay crying....I wanted to scream. I felt like I was going to explode.
I called my mom, to come over...and I called my doctor.
I was in danger...
I couldn't stop thinking about how much I missed Hannah, and wanted to be with her--there were crazy, irrational thoughts that I could not, no matter how hard I prayed, get under control. I couldn't stop crying. I couldn't breathe. I texted David that I was a failure as a mother, that I wasn't spiritual enough, and that I was a terrible person.
I wanted to crash my car into a cliff (Seriously. I had a plan).
The last time I had thoughts this strongly, I had been trying out a new birth control that sent me over the edge. Realizing this, I had the sudden clarity to know that I had to get medical help immediately. I called the doctor's office, even though I was mortified to do so, and got a prescription sent over right away that I started taking that night.
I started feeling better the next day.
I started enjoying motherhood the next day.
And I started to understand that I am anything but a failure.
I'm a darn good mother.
I value my son over my reputation. I don't care if you think I'm a failure for having to a take little pill to get my hormones figured back out again. I need to be able to care for him. I need to be able to pray, and I believe you can get so chemically messed up that you physically can't even make yourself try to talk to God. And chemically, for now, I need some assistance.
No one ever told me that there are other mothers in the church who struggle with the same things. I am not alone. I'm just not afraid to talk about it.
I am medicated.
And I am unashamed.
I can look at my son and smile now.
I can think about my daughter and not fall apart now.
I called a friend of mine who had been through a similar loss, and she was a huge encouragement. I didn't say anything to anyone else about this until now, because I was trying to get things under control...and let's face it: The church isn't particularly kind to those that struggle with depression or things akin to it. We're a judgmental group, and we're not supposed to be. I've been outspoken about Christians that struggle with depression before--the church does not treat them well. People, we have to have understanding and compassion. The human body can only take so much--the mind can only handle so much. Even the most spiritual human being on the planet has a breaking point....I found mine.  I don't plan on being on these medications for long; I don't believe that medication for chemical imbalances should be a permanent "solution." But for now, this is where I am. My family has noticed the change for the better, and has said that they knew I was getting to a very unbalanced place. I'm very grateful for their help, and for their understanding.
The first 2 weeks after JD was born, the sun couldn't set on my happiness...then there were 2 weeks of strange, awful, terrible darkness that didn't make any sense to me...
And now, the sun has come back out again...
So, for the past 2 weeks, I haven't blogged.
I've been too busy enjoying this little man that I'm a mother to.
I've been watching the milestones, and celebrating every single day that I have.
I've been praying for this little guy, and I've been thankful for the hope that I've been given.
And I have been too
Busy
Being
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...

The Mystery Continues...

So much for the "Big Reveal!" 
Ultrasounds are the strangest, coolest, most surreal thing to sit through. Someone's pushing outside of you, looking inside of you, to check something out. I've had so many of them done at this point, that the lack of modesty one endures in the process is moot (I love that word!!!!). I don't even care anymore--probe away! 
These things are even stranger when the thing they're looking at/for, moves around on the screen. It's a bit alien, to be honest...you can't feel them move yet, but there they are!!!  I look forward to these with such a nervous anticipation...if I had fingernails to bite off, they'd be chewed to nubs, I swear! Yesterday was supposed to be when we find out what we're having: boy, or girl? David and I each have our thoughts, but nothing is definite yet. The anticipation is driving my family crazy!! Personally, I just want to get my names figured out. :)
I was super-cranky yesterday...and then the ultrasound started....and there they were...Try as hard as she may, the ultrasound tech could NOT get a determination. Our little Coolio sat with their legs folded, Indian-style (I smacked David--that's YOUR family!), and jumped around like a little Indian jumping bean. It was frustratingly hilarious. I really wanted to know...
But I could have sat their and watched that screen for hours.
Boing...
Boing....
Boing...
Our little peanut (who's actually quite large--8 oz, to be "exact") seems to be a happy little froggy. Long legs, big belly, and a ginormous brain.
Yep--this one takes after me. :)
I don't have any great spiritual point with this blog. I'm just so stinking happy, that I had to take a break just to share it with you. As our baby gets more active, and more defined, the reality of it all sets in more and more, and I feel like I could just explode. To watch him/her bounce around on the screen yesterday...I wish I had a recording to share. The wonder of the creation of God is astounding--how, and why, did He make us that way? We bounce around from the very beginnings--we're a blank slate, ready to absorb the world.
My prayer is that my Indian jumping bean makes his/her way through the world and never loses that joy...that they "boing" through life, bouncing back from every obstacle or deterrent, and press on, determined to revel in the peace and love that God brings us all...my prayer is that David and I teach him/her everything is in His hands--they're the only thing we can never "boing" out of.
So what, if I didn't get my "big reveal" of boy vs. girl?
I think God decided to reveal something else...:)