TED Talks and parental guilt...

Time flies…

13 months ago, I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy…and I unknowingly got on this strange, crazy, incredible roller coaster of parenthood.

I mean, sure, people tell you it’s insanity…but you never realize it until it’s your turn. And once you’ve started it, there’s absolutely no looking back.

Not that I’d want to.

It’s terrifying-scary-amazing-wonderful-hilarious-trying-miraculous-and...all of the above.

And it teaches you just how much you truly have to rely on God for every breath.

I’ve also realized that nothing induces more guilt on you, than parenthood. I mean, seriously—every complaint that someone has about something you have, or every brag that you hear about something you don’t or couldn’t do—every little thing causes you to step back and say to yourself, “Oh, man…I don’t do it like that. Is there something wrong? Am I doing it wrong? AM I GOING TO TRAUMATIZE HIM FOR LIFE?!?!?!?”

I heard on a TED Talk that when you yell and scream at a baby/toddler, that it affects the part of the brain that controls impulses, that later on, leads them to turn into serial killers. And then I read that if you ignore your child (i.e., time-out), that it has the same effect on their brain as if you had physically abused them. So now, I’m like, freaking out about yelling at David in front of the baby—does it bother JD? I have to stop yelling—I mean, I’m a total yeller who was raised by yellers. It’s all we know; David is NOT generally a yeller, but I’ve kind of turned him into one…AM I TURNING MY SON INTO A SERIAL KILLER?!?!?!?!?!

I know, it sounds preposterous. But these are the paranoid ramblings of MEEEEE! And these are the things I worry about in the middle of the night…

And of course, there’s no yelling “at” JD at this point. There is, however, immediate separation if he does something like grab my glasses, while he’s sitting on my lap (with a firm “NO!”). There is also a firm “NO!” when he’s into something he’s not supposed to be, and the occasional tap on the hand (for the dangerous stuff), along with a quick pick-him-up-and-move-him. Distraction is the best form of correction, as discipline in any form is kind of pointless.

I’m a stress-yeller, and I have to stop it…I have to remove many words from my vocabulary, as he’s begun to repeat things (i.e., “Ball!” “Duck!”).  If he can say those things, I’m guessing he will learn to repeat several choice words that sound similar…and I need Jesus!!! So, language and tone are a definite work in progress, and trying to tell certain people in our lives to begin that process in THEIR lives is not going well…Ugh.

So, JD is standing now…he’s working on molars…he’s repeating words, and he fully understands his first complete sentence: “What’s this?”  Yep—he gets it! He even used it, in context, in front of the Parents As Teachers lady, who was totally impressed. Yep—he’s a genius, but not a freak-show-kind-of-genius. He’s a let’s-encourage-this-but-stay-normal kind of genius. He doesn’t have any food allergies that we know of (praise GOD!) and he eats anything he can get his hands on. We took our time introducing “regular” foods, and are just now starting to give him actual meals instead of pureed food. He’s independent; he’s able to spot something, get it, focus on it and play with it, and get into whatever he wants. I love how he surveys a room, picks someone or something, stares them down, and eventually, rewards them with a smile. He’s quite popular wherever he goes, and I find myself becoming increasingly protective.  

Can I just keep him in a bubble? This world is overwhelming…endless stories of abuse, kidnapping, drugs—I barely want to step outside, as an adult. I understand my parents’ protectiveness so much more; thank God I was raised in a world that didn’t have the Internet! We’re ALREADY talking about computer privacy issues, and he’s not even walking yet!!!! JD is fascinated with our phones and tablets, even though we don’t let him play with them; they make toys that hold your phone in them, and interact with apps!! ALREADY!!

There are little boys in my neighborhood that play football in the backyard.

That’s what I want…

Play in the backyard; ignore the TV. Make friends in person, not on Facebook. Play baseball, football, soccer…play with the dog or go fishing with Auntie.

The world has presented a platter of fears that my brain just wants to feast on…drugs, violence, crime…How do I prevent any of it from touching my son? He’s the joy of my heart; I can’t even look at his picture without smiling. I want to preserve his innocence forever…but reality is bigger than me.

But it’s not bigger than God.

Raising a child, I’m learning, takes more trust in God than I ever thought…I have to believe that the One Who gave him to us, will take care of him…that He will teach us how to raise him in a Godly way, in a truthful, holy way…I have to trust that our motives and our directions are anchored firmly in His Word and in His plan. Faith outweighs fear, and I believe that…I believe that He holds us, regardless of where we are in life: brand-new and shiny, or old codgers waving canes…

The roller-coaster of parenthood has one consistent track throughout the twists and turns: Jesus. He doesn’t change or fade; He doesn’t leave us hanging. Both Rescuer and Challenger, He sends us out to walk on the ocean…to live in a restless, turbulent world…and He asks us to simply believe He will save us.

My son belongs to Him…my husband belongs to Him…And, because I believe Him, I belong to Him.

The world tells me that I’m messing everything up…it constantly undermines my decisions or tells me I’m not good enough. Jesus takes my pennies of faith, and He moves mountains with them. He takes my mustard seeds, and He uses them to somehow implant faith and hope into my son. He takes my prayers…my tiny, quick, conversations with Him…and He invests it into my marriage, my home, and my family.

Thirteen months ago, out of the very center of my being, came the fruition of years of prayer, tears, and love…He gives us what we need to raise this child for Him. The world can have their research, their lectures, and their materials. I have the Word of God, and it tells me that He’s got this.

That’s all I need to know…

Waiting to Exhale

Most of you know that there's a timeline running through my head. I've been advised to stop thinking about it...but as anyone who's lost a child knows (particularly, an infant child), that's impossible. Hannah was 29 days old when we had to make the decision to remove life support. That's a life-changing thing to go through...not only the loss of a child, but to pull that plug. It's hell, plain and simple.
JD is 29 days old, today.
I was watching the clock in the nursery, thinking to myself, "don't watch the clock." It's ridiculous--I wish I could turn my brain off. I sat in the bedroom last night, watching him, and realized that we're almost through the worst part...almost.
Everything we gain reminds us of a loss at this point...the things he does, reminds me of what she didn't do at this stage. It's a mind game that I would love to turn off, because it tends to rob me of the joy of my current situation. Ever have an issue like that? Where something from your past that has such strong ties, keeps you from celebrating the beauty of the present? It's not a Godly mentality, and I'm not so stupid that I don't recognize that.
I've always had really intense dreams, but lately, they're even more so. The other night, I dreamt that I was wrestling with both of my kids...my little boy, and my little girl. I didn't want to wake up;it was so beautiful. Reality hit: Until I get to Heaven, I will never have the chance to do that...to put both arms around both of them, to hug them and hold them together...A new wave of anger creeps in, and a new face of loss presents itself...something I never really thought about before.
Everything we gain reminds us of a loss.
I want to be mad at God again, if only for a brief moment...but then I stop and I think about the leaves , and about His careful design. Our steps are ordered by Him, even the steps that look like more of a fall. Sometimes I can look back and see the pattern in the tapestry He's woven...if not for Hannah, there would be _____. I could fill in the blanks with a 100 things that will never fill the gap of her loss.
Certain things in this process have surprised me. In the midst of celebrating JD, I'm faced with a new facet of grief that I've never had to deal with before, and I'm completely unprepared. A new line of "why" has come up, only this time, I'm in the place where I can mostly deal with not having answers.  There's a moment in which I have to force myself to exhale--to stop holding my breath, to let the tears flow, and to mourn the loss of Hannah not as my firstborn daughter, but as JD's big sister...I never really thought about it before, but it definitely hurts.
So we deal with it. I like lists, so here is what we have: We have the fear...the "let's make it through the first 30 days" fear. We have the loss...my family is missing a piece. We have the questions...God, what exactly were You thinking again, and when will I get over the fact that I don't get to have all of the answers? And we have the hope...This little guy is here, and he is loved more than he will ever know; he deserves our love without reservation, without comparison, and without compromise, and he will get it.
We have these things. And though we don't have the answers to the questions, or a quick-and-easy balm to make the hurtful things go away, we have Jesus. Even when I don't understand Him, when I go to Him with scraped knees from falling down, or a broken heart from letting my mind run away with me, He still accepts me. I'd give anything for an audible conversation with Him that's full of answers or promises for the future that were specific to our lives...I won't get that (barring a miracle). But in my list of questions and hurts, I have hope and faith, even when it's hard to access either one of them. This is a case where my heart knows what my head can't wrap around just yet. This is a process.
As of tomorrow, my son will have outlived his sister.  A certain measure of tension will be alleviated, and I am encouraged by the kind thoughts and prayers I've gotten from people who may not understand the situation, but that understand that this is tough. It's a bit of a milestone that I don't expect most people to get. Anyone who's lost a little one, and has had their "rainbow baby," though, understands. Tomorrow, I will turn off the internal clock, and I will let go of this 29 days of underlying tension. I will breathe. And I will celebrate a new phase in JDs life...At some point, I will be able to celebrate the milestones without thinking of what it might have been like, to celebrate them with Hannah, too. I don't know when that will happen, and I think other moms of "rainbows" will have some insight into whether or not that EVER happens. I have no idea. I know that I can look at him, and I can see only him...but I also know that I have thought more about Hannah over the past few months than I have in a long time (although not a day goes by where I don't think of her)...and that eventually, I'll sort through all of it. Again--it's a process.
One day at a time.
One breath at a time.
One milestone at a time.
One prayer at a time.
And slowly, but surely...
Breathe.