Blog Challenge #Fail

#Fail

Okay, so in my brilliance, I undertook a 30-day Blog Challenge.

I’m a new mom, who works full-time.

This was kind of a dumb idea….Or was it? I made it 21 days out of 30, and I have to say, I was fairly consistent in my daily posting. One of my friends told me recently that she heard a therapist say that if everyone took some time to write every evening, there would be no need for therapists anymore…I get it.

It’s incredibly therapeutic, when we take the time to do it.

So, this was my first Blog Challenge, and since I stopped at Day 21, here is a brief synopsis of the remaining subjects—I’m going to try to answer them as briefly as possible, if it’s worth answering.

22: How have you changed in the past two years?  Fatter. Thinner. My hair is longer. Oh, and 2 years ago, I had just started a new job….and we had found a doctor that, for once, did not tell us we were crazy for wanting to have another baby. The past 2 years have brought me to my knees in new, crazy ways; they’ve shown me new hope, new answers for prayer, and new ways to completely rely on God. They’ve stretched me mentally (my job is unchartered territory for me, and I’ve had to learn A LOT), physically (giving birth is not something my body is particularly good at), and spiritually (I could write a book on that one)…These past 2 years have been some of the best in my life.

23:  Give pictures of 5 guys who are famous who you find attractive.  I’m not answering that one. David Cooley is not famous (yet). Any celebrity that I’ve found attractive has tattoos, which is the only thing David is missing, but I’m working on him. That would be super-hot (TMI, but it’s my blog).

24: Your favorite movie and what it’s about. “The Princess Bride,” hands-down. And what’s it about? You have to ask? "Fencing. Fighting. Torture. Poison. True love. Hate. Revenge. Giants. Hunters. Bad men. Good men. Beautifulest ladies. Snakes. Spiders. Beasts of all natures and descriptions. Pain. Death. Brave men. Coward men. Strongest men. Chases. Escapes. Lies. Truths. Passion. Miracles."

25: Someone who fascinates you, and why: I’m fascinated by Tom and Mary Helbig, and by their family. They’re my pastors, and they’ve led such an interesting life…having such a big family, moving places around the world, pastoring churches, music…I really love them, and I find them all so incredible!  And Corrie Ten Boom (no, she’s not on the same page as the Helbigs; she’s in another league of her own)….I think she’s the most amazing person who ever lived (that wasn’t Jesus or a Biblical author).

26: What kind of person attracts you? David William Cooley. Loves God. Faithful. Loves me. Loves my dog. Loves his son more than words can say. Funny. Kind. Loving. Affectionate. Adorable. Has the most amazing shoulders I’ve ever seen, and doesn’t have a beard. Plays guitar (not frequently enough). Gives fantastic hugs. Steals my pillow. Did I mention, he’s faithful? ‘Cause THAT is hot.

27: A problem that you have had: Did I mention that my husband steals my pillow? Okay, that’s minor. My biggest problem right now is that I’m struggling with my verbal filter. It’s vanished. I’m really struggling with keeping my temper in check, and I’m sure that’s got to do with hormones being wonky, although we’re working on that, and it’s gotten better in the past few weeks. Also, I really, truly struggle with self-discipline, primarily with finances and with food—I know this has to do with self-esteem, and though it’s better than it’s been in the past, it’s a fight.

28: Something that you miss: Oh, I miss my daughter. I miss my Hannah Elizabeth Gayle so badly, it’s tangible. I thought about her this morning (I think about her every day), how we spent those weeks in the NICU…how David held her up to the window for a visiting class of prospective parents to see. How excited we were, how beautiful she was…I miss her terribly. It’s a hole in my heart that is filled with the healing balm of Jesus, but it is still a scar…I miss my princess…

29: Goals for the next 30 days: Lose weight. I think I set that goal every month. Sigh. Here’s to getting back on the wagon…

30: Your highs and lows of the month:

Lows: Crashing and burning earlier this month (August) after July’s issues caught up with me. The exhaustion was so heavy, that I finally lost it with David, and I think we both realized that I have limits. 2 surgeries and a (minor) car accident really set me back, and by the first week of August, I couldn’t go any further. My family (especially David) allowed me to do some catching up on my rest, and I’m almost back to feeling “normal.” That first week of August, though, was terrible.

Highs:  Every day with JD. Every smile, the fact that he’s learned how to stretch his arms up when he sees me…the hugs he’s giving, the funny “kisses” he gives…the times he chews my face…Seeing my son sit up on his own…Coming home, or picking him up from the babysitters, and seeing him smile when he sees me…all of the first we have together…Seeing David with his son, and seeing them laugh together…Watching my mom enjoy her grandson…Seeing JD reach for the dog (and the dog, in turn, sniff and walk away)…Life as a mom. It’s beautiful, and it makes my heart explode with joy.

So, that’s it—I just crash-coursed the rest of my blog challenge, and though I didn’t make it every single day, I’m not going to consider it a complete fail. I think looking at the collection of blogs I posted in keeping up with this challenge forced me to look at a few issues that I needed to see. It also helped me to acknowledge a few people that I think about all of the time, but rarely actually TELL them that I think about them all of the time. It’s been fun, to do more writing and to have a topic to drive me when I want to write but can’t think of anything to write about.

I don’t think I generated anymore readers out of this, but I certainly had fun. I hope you did, too…and maybe, just maybe, I make a little more sense to you now….HA!

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...

"Drunk" is Subject to Interpretation...

*Disclaimer: Evidently, I've lost my ability to spell. I'm hoping to get that back after pregnancy-brain goes away...
I'm an Old Testament kind of girl. I have my favorite stories, but none has touched my life like the story of Hannah. I really didn't get into it until my Hannah had passed away; I mean, I knew the story, but I didn't GET it. It has a whole new meaning for me that's grown over the years.
Hannah had what many would think was a beautiful life: She had a husband that loved her best. Sure, he had a second wife, but all we hear about Peninnah is that she was a total jerk who mocked Hannah for not having children. REALLY?!?!?
Women in the church that deal with not having children face a stigma that most often goes unsaid; occasionally, someone will actually have the audacity to verbalize it. "Barrenness is a curse."
Do you KNOW what you do, when you say/infer that to a woman who wants to have children?
You turn her away from the face of God.
Enjoy having that on your conscience.
We live in an era that comes against the blessings of God. Although I will happily get into the science of being over-inundated with hormones and its affects on sexuality/reproduction/identity, it's more than this blog can handle (and would most likely result in hate mail). We live in a society that extols the "freedom" of the single woman, and that denies the unique creation of children. We live in a world that has attempted to redefine what constitutes a family, while ridiculing those of us who cling to the Biblically-based concepts of a mom, of a dad, and of participating in a community of like-minded individuals. I'll stop this tangent before I get too side-tracked...
No one talks about Peninnah. No one talks about the woman who Hannah thought, had it all. There's no chapter in the Bible dedicated to extoling her as a woman, as a prayer warrior, or as a mother. Like I said before—all we’re left with is the knowledge that she was a total…Well, no one liked her. No one names their children after her. She is forever known as “the provoker” (I Sam. 1:7).
We remember Hannah—we remember that Elkanah loved her best. We remember that he gave her a double portion. We remember that he did not cast her aside…that he did what he thought was best to give her comfort (I Sam. 1:8).
I see a lot of David (as in my husband, not as in The King) in Elkanah. In spite of his own grief, his own loss, and his own hopes, he has never stopped encouraging me on this journey. Of course our relationship is not perfect!!! But when I was certain that God had forgotten me…that God didn’t like me…that I wasn’t worthy of His love or attention…David was the Elkanah that gave me a double portion. There were the conversations in the car where I was brutally honest with how I felt toward the Lord, toward church, toward my friends (who only ever did their best), and toward my family. There were the conversations that ended in tears (most of them), and the ones where I shouted and screamed…there were the conversations that, I’m sure, left him convinced that I needed to be sedated or institutionalized.
There were plenty of conversations where all he said is, “Cassidy, you know that’s not true. Change your mindset.” Those were infuriating…but they are so indicative of the nature of the man. Like Elkanah, who probably frustrated Hannah by telling her that he was better than 10 sons (nice!), David never stopped reminding me that with just the two of us, there was happiness.
And there is.
Elkanah never deprived his wife of intimacy because he didn’t think it was fruitful. He continued to provide for her, even abundantly blessing her, because he loved her. Women who struggle with having children often shut down—we push people away, we push our husbands away, because we feel defective. We feel unloved, accursed, broken, and abandoned by our own bodies. Sure, I didn’t struggle with fertility issues; my struggles were different. But the concepts are the same: Our bodies have betrayed our hearts.
The husband who stands by the wife who feels like a freak of nature, is a man worth noting. He is made of iron and steel, and he has the power to make or break her…she is fragile, in every sense of the word. He takes his vows seriously…he takes her dreams seriously…and he takes her spiritual state into consideration.
Elkanah and Hannah are, to me, such a type-and-shadow of Jesus and His Bride. I Samuel 1 and 2 are a love story, and I know that sounds strange. But when you consider the culture of the day, and the care with which Elkanah treated his broken bride, you can see very clearly how Jesus treats us when we are “damaged”: He stays with us. He doesn’t abandon us. He helps us stay focused on Him; He challenges the mindset that the Provoker stabs us with. He reminds us of who we are with Him. He challenges us to seek Him, even though our fleshly mind tells us to give it up already.
Because Elkanah did not abandon her, and because he ensured that his family maintained their relationship with God (he took them to worship and sacrifice at Shiloh on a consistent basis), Hannah had a place to go, to pour out her heart. She had a relationship with the Lord on her own, that was freely expressed. I find it interesting that even though she blamed the Lord for closing her womb (which He did—He had a purpose), she never gave up pursuing Him for what she wanted. She was clear and specific, and never disregarded her request.  That’s hard—sometimes, you feel so stupid for going before the Lord yet AGAIN, for the same thing. You fall prey to the lie that He gets sick of hearing from you.
He never gets tired of our prayers.
Hannah knew that—she knew her Lord. So she went after Him, wholeheartedly...She pursued Him.  She makes a severe covenant—I say “severe,” because she promised to dedicate her son to the Lord and to let him be raised outside of her home. It almost feels like she’s bargaining with God in I Sam. 1:11—“If You do THIS, I’ll do THAT,” but I really don’t think that’s the case. Her promise to dedicate her son to the Lord is a testimony to her faith that this would come to pass. She made a Nazarite vow, and from the point of weaning, on, she only got to see her baby boy once a year. That’s a crazy-brave woman.
In her pursuing of the Lord, she prayed so hard that the priest Eli thought she was drunk. I’ve mentioned this a few times in my blog, because it fascinates me. When you pray past the understanding of human comprehension…when you are so goal-oriented that no one understands you…when you have one focal point for years on end…when nothing else really matters, except for this one pursuit…then you are praying the Prayers of Hannah. The rest of the world won’t get it—they’ll think you’re crazy. They’ll tell you you’ve missed God, that you need to give it up.
Don’t do it.
“Drunk” is subject to interpretation.
He sees you…He hears you. He’s not ignoring you; He may be shutting you down for a brief time, but He isn’t missing your prayers. And when He “shuts you down,” it’s because He has a perfect timing in mind. When you look back, after your prayer is answered, things will make a lot more sense.
I know (better than most people) that sounds so mundane and churchy. I hate hearing that, even now. But drunk people are not rational people, so the things you say to us do not make sense at the time that we’re in that heavy pursuit of a goal. It isn’t until after someone has “sobered up” that they understand the “consequences” of their actions. It isn’t until the hope deferred is realized, that the pursuit is praised. THEN people tell you you’re strong…then people tell you that you have “great” faith. They don’t tell you that when you’re falling-on-your-face desperate, or nose-deep in the carpet of the altar, or shut up at home because you can’t stand to see one more person who has what you know God has called you to—no, that’s when they think  you’re just sad or depressed. When you finally get to the point where your prayers are answered, then everyone thinks you’re awesome for hanging on.
I like the people that have hung out with me when I was “drunk.” I like the friends and family members who kept encouraging me past the point of medical reason. I like the pastors who acknowledged our broken hearts and called a congregation to pray that we’d get to be parents someday. I like the people that got “drunk” with me.
I’d like to be someone who gets “drunk” with them…who supports them in their crazy pursuit of their heart’s desires.
Do you know anyone like that? Are you someone like that? Well, c’mon, you “bunch of drunks!” Get in there, and pursue—get in there, push back the crowds, and touch the hem of His garment (See! I CAN make a NT reference!). Press in—go face-first. Be a Hannah. Go face-first for your friends—pursue WITH them, instead of standing back and judging them. Be an Elkanah, not an Eli—and whatever you do, don’t be a Peninniah (who was that again?!?)
I raise my glass to you, fellow drunks: Here’s to the pursuit, to the process, and to the reward. Here’s to the realization of heart’s desires, and to the dreams that will not be ignored. Cheers!

All I Want For Christmas...

Last year, around this time, all I wanted for Christmas really WAS my two front teeth (I was having some dental work done)!
This year, as the clock ticks on, I realize that my little Christmas list is about to be forever changed...
I've never really been the kid who sits there and tells Santa everything they want (although I did love to look through the Sears catalog when I was a child). As long as I can remember, I've been happy that someone thought of me. It's what means the most--that someone thought of me, and that they paid attention to me. My mom is one of the best gift-givers around. Even when she misses the mark, there is still no such thing as a bad gift from my mother--probably because she knows me better than anyone on this planet.
God is like that (only SO much more): He knows what we want, and what we need, better than anyone else. His Father's Heart is so intuitive--He knows the request before we make it. He knows the need before it presents itself. He knows the heart's cry before the tears meet our eyes. Much like my mom got to know me really well from the womb, on, the Lord has known us from before conception. He knows our deepest things, good and bad....and He loves us, anyways.
When I was a little girl, all I wanted to be was a wife and a mother; I've blogged about this before. It's my one, genuine heart's desire. There are other things I would like to DO, but nothing has burned into me like what I want to BE. I consider myself a "passable" wife, if not occasionally, a bit of a shrew (okay, sometimes, more than a "bit." Add the "ch.":). I'm not the best housekeeper; I'm terrible with money (perhaps, because there isn't any, LOL!); and I'm nowhere near the cook in reality, that I thought I would be. But I love my husband...and we always make it work, by the grace of God. God takes care of us, even when it's seemed hopeless. I love being married, and I love the institution of marriage. I love it when people say we're a "cute married couple," even when they've heard us argue. David is my other half, plain and simple. Life with him is never dull, and I never want it to end--that's the kind of marriage I wanted, when I was a child.
I have it.
I am a wife--
And I'm about to be a mother...again.. Of course, as I say that, I hear the whispers of "anything can happen. Don't get your hopes up." I hear you, whispers--but I choose to ignore you. Not because I think that David and I are immune to heartache; I know better. I choose to ignore the negative possibilities because I have hope. Because I believe that God is good, regardless of the outcome. Because I believe that He is working miracles, even now.
This time, I get to keep my dream. 
There is a genuine fear that rushes through me, in that statement...like, I'm afraid to be that bold. Since Hannah died, I've struggled so deeply with fear, to the point that I was even afraid to admit that I loved my family, because if I admitted it, God would take them away. A missed phone call became the end of the world; a noise in a car engine meant a terrible accident was coming. Not a day went by, for an extended period of time, that I wasn't choked by some kind of fear. Anxiety has, in the past, been a constant companion.
I'm not going to say that I'm free and clear from all of that, but I will say that I've come a long way. I am learning that there is freedom in boldness: Embrace hope. I will be the mother to a beautiful baby boy that will grow healthy and strong, that will go to the nations! He will be a place of worship, and he is dedicated to the Lord--this is the statement I make every day. These are the words that I type in boldness, and the more I say it, the more the fear diminishes. 
This is a time of crazy faith, of insane boldness, and of true, genuine recognition of my own insufficiencies...this is a time of putting one foot in front of the other, and of being thankful for every single day.
Christmas this year marks a time of major transition. After 7 years together, this will be our last Christmas with just the two of us. These are the last nights that I have with my husband, alone...as crazy as it sounds, it's a tiny bit bittersweet. I cherish my time with him, even when it's just sitting in front of the TV. I find myself not wanting to leave the house (I've heard this is normal, at this point); I don't want to share him with anyone.  I'm cranky, emotional, and clingy--I don't really think David is enjoying my current phase, but I'm not giving him much of a choice. I'm overwhelmed with little tasks that need to be done, and with the daily issues that seem to keep creeping in (for the love of God, can my car stop breaking?!?). Every time I look at the bank account, I fall on my face in exasperation; my calendar at work has exploded, and I only have a few weeks left here, for training, planning, and for covering my leave.  I feel like the world is exploding...
But then, I catch my reflection...
Yes, the world is exploding. 
But I'm having a baby.
The thing, that they said would never happen?
It's happening.
It's really, truly happening.
I can see it...I can feel it...He's coming. 
Anticipation is outweighing Anxiety.
Hope is overcoming Fear.
Walls are falling, and victory is coming...
And I don't think that's just for me.
There are a lot of people out there who are struggling, and in need of a major breakthrough. Whether it's spiritual or physical, you just can't give up hope. 
God hears you...He really does...
Don't give up.
There really isn't much that I'd like for Christmas. Although I could still look through the Sears catalog and pick a few things, my taste these days, tends to be a bit more toward the practical: I'd like for my closet to be accessible...for my car to work...for the bills to be paid...
I'd like to spend time with David, without a TV running in the background (that's not always his fault--I'm guilty of this one!)...to hang out with a few friends that I haven't seen lately...to sleep through the night...to have a clean house. 
In a few weeks, I'd like to meet the little guy that's currently kicking my desk...I'd like doctors' reports that are miraculously normal. I'd like to have a baby dedication in front of my church, where we all stop to appreciate the wonder of life...I'd like for us all to understand the miracle of our kids.
That's what I want for Christmas...for the New Year. Simple things, for a simple girl...supernatural things, from a supernatural God. 
I believe that He cares for us.
I believe that He meets our needs.
I believe that He is worth hoping in...and I hope that you do, too.

I'm sure I'll be back on here before Christmas, but if I'm not, May you have the most wondrous of Holiday seasons...may Hope find you, may your heart be renewed, and may your spirit recognize everyday miracles...Merry Christmas, to you and yours...

Moving Forward...but stealing glances back

I never thought this day would come.
I never thought the anniversary of Hannah's death would be met with anything but heavy, heavy grief.
But here we are...
Usually, I approach the time from 10/30-11/28 as kind of a "Monster At the End of This Book" paradigm. I dread it, from October 1st, on; when it hits, it's like a kink in a hose that's let go--there's a flood of sadness that can be pretty hard to navigate through.
This year is so different.
There are those (who are clueless) who will sit there and say that having another baby is some kind of miracle balm that is making this so much better. You're wrong, and I will not hesitate to say that very clearly: You. Are. Wrong.
Having another child does not "fix" the hole that is left when you lose your child. There is, simply put, nothing that "fixes" that hole. The only "miracle balm" is the love of Jesus--that's it. He loves you through the darkest days, and He hold your hand to walk you through the healing process. You're never completely healed, and you never forget where you were; however, you are slowly, but surely, equipped to not only move forward, but to glance backwards without falling into the vacuum of grief.  At some point, you stop crying for the pain you went through at the time; instead, you cry for the opportunities you never got to have. That's something that will always hurt, I suppose--not knowing what could have been, mixed with a little bit of wondering what exactly happened, and why?
So, here we are...6 years ago, we said goodbye...
I can walk you through every minute of that day. I can remember the nurses, what I was wearing, how it felt--but I don't want to. Those who were there remember--for some of them, they will never forget. Those memories are not ones that I want to have--they're the ones the enemy attacks me with when I'm at my lowest moments. What he hasn't figured out, though, is that it's those memories that will send me running to my Father faster than anything else. You see, I've learned that there are some things I cannot handle on my own. I have to run to Him, because those things are too big to try and process on my own. He's always faithful to keep me from going under. 
Today, I face the "Monster At the End of This Book." I embrace the memories with a strange kind of warm melancholy--yes, that's an intentional oxymoron--and maybe my heart hurts a little more than usual. But I'm okay...It's okay. I've found this place of peace, over the last year, and I feel like I can finally say that I am free from the heaviness that is always associated with this time. I asked David, and my Mom, if that was okay--I mean, is it disrespectful, to live life, and to move forward, during this time? Of course it is--it doesn't make me a bad mother, and it sure as heck doesn't mean that I've forgotten my beautiful Hannah-girl. But it is time...
It is time to move forward, and every year that goes by takes me to another phase of progress. I will always steal glances backwards...but I am far more inclined to look forward to not only my future here on this earth; I am inclined to look forward with far greater hope to the eternity that I have waiting for me...

Happy Angelversary, Hannah-girl--Happy Homecoming! You are loved, and you are in a place that's surrounded by the One Who Loves Us Most. I have no greater hope or healing than that...

The Sorting Hat...

It's 6:00 am on Sunday. David has just stumbled into the office asking what in the heck I'm up to--he's adorable when he's like this. We're not much for drinking (although I do like a good glass of wine); I've never seen him drunk or hungover. I imagine it's similar to how he just walked into this room, and it's hilarious. I've sent him back to bed (I am, after all, used to getting up for work at 4:00 am), and now I'm alone with my thoughts...

I have a Facebook friend who makes a lot of Hobbit references. My dad also loves all of those books; sadly, that's a bonding experience we will never have. Try as I may, I just don't like Tolkien (sorry, Dad). However, I love the Harry Potter books/movies. So I will unashamedly make a lot of HP references, and since I am writing this blog, it is clearly my perogative. :)
I love the concept of the Sorting Hat: Something comes along in the midst of your confusion and fear, and tells you EXACTLY where you're supposed to be. Can I get one of those?  'Cause let me tell you, if I had a Sorting Hat, that sucker would NEVER leave my noggin. The Holy Spirit does the same thing, I know--but that whole "audible voice" thing really piques my interest. Hearing the voice of God in the midst of the battlefield can be very hard to do--but you have to hear your General/Captain/Commander-In-Chief, right? It's hard to get quiet when the battle is raging.
But here I am.
Yesterday, we went to my parents' house to do a Sorting of our own. 6 years ago, Hannah's things were sorted out...things that were deemed "special" were kept, as were things that were necessary (the flamingo onesie...a stroller...the nursery decorations)...other things were given away in heaps.
I have no memory of this process, and I don't know why. I don't remember packaging them up, or taking them to the attic. I don't know where things went, or who got what...It never bothered me until yesterday. Mom says it's for the best, but it nags at me--where did my brain go? Going through some of these things was almost like going through a stranger's storage unit. But...going through some of those things was like open-heart surgery (minus the anesthetic). I'm not going to lie or make it sound pretty:
It hurt.
I kept a pretty good stiff, upper lip--after all, Choleric Mom was watching, and she never misses a chance to attempt to counter my sniffles with a reminder that Hannah is in Heaven. That actually makes me mad sometimes--can't you just let me cry, and get it out of my system? Stop trying to give me band-aids--I need to bleed this out! But then I look at it from her perspective--She's seen me cry enough over this.
So I waited until it was just David, me, and the dog...and for a few minutes, let it rip.
This child will be wearing clothes that were not purchased for them. Things were bought for someone else--someone that didn't have the chance to grow up, that I didn't have the chance to raise. I'm not being a brat here--it's not like I can or would, just burn everything and go buy all new. That would be stupid, impractical, and selfish. I have a pretty good sense of reuse/recycle. Even if Hannah would have had the chance to use or wear all of the stuff that I've stored, I'd still be reusing it, so that part makes no difference. It's the heart behind it--We had picked out little things just for her.  Certain toys were given to me at a shower that I never got to go to--for her.
This child will not know that their stuffed monkey was not originally intended for them. I do. Will I think that, every time I see the darn monkey? Of course not. And I think that most of these feelings will fade pretty quickly--after all, it's the first time I've seen monkeys and strollers and Lord-knows-what in 6 years. It was a bit of a shock. I think I'm still processing it all.
Walking through the living room this morning, seeing the bags of stuff that we brought home...I immediately turned around and walked out. I actually think it's the amount of work that will be involved in finding places to put the stuff, than the stuff itself--I don't want to think about the mess we have to work through! :) The nursery is a disaster--it's been extra closet space for the past 5 years, and we have no idea where to begin organizing it. (If I wasn't me, I'd call me for help. But since I am me, my "great organizing solution" is to run, hide, and to try not to think about it. Too bad I don't have a basement!!!:)
I'm okay, really. I"m not going to say I was "super prayed-up" or "filled with faith" to get through this--I think I was in more of a state of "git-er'-done." Regardless of where I was, though, I can say that it felt like there was peace instead of panic in The Sort. We got it done, and now I can finally start a Baby Registry for this little one.
Tomorrow, we make another attempt to find out what we're having. We're having our Anatomy US done, and I will make my first cardiologist's visit for this pregnancy. I hope it's my ONLY cardiologist's visit. Ultrasounds make me terribly nervous--half the time, I'm afraid to look at the screen. My friends at work think I'm crazy for this-but they don't know what I've been through. When you've had so much hope, and so much loss, even when it's irrational you still fear going through it again. You try to counter it with faith, but it sneaks in. I'm thankful there are "blockers" (Quidditch reference!) who stop my fear-sidetracks with a quick word or prayer (David's great at that!). And I don't know if you've ever had an echo done...but they're kinda painful for me. Being "chesty", plus having so much scar tissue from previous surgeries, means that the technician has to push really hard on my chest. Add pregnancy to that, and I'm NOT looking forward to this echo!  Tomorrow I will be poked, prodded, and probably stabbed, all for an end result of what I hope is PERFECT. Mom will be spending the day at the hospital with me, thank God...she may be a good ol' choleric, but I need her.  I think she needs to check on me, too. She won't admit it, but certain things she's said make me realize that she has her own fears with this pregnancy. She is my mom, after all. <3 p="p">I'm nervous about tomorrow...excited...I hope I can come back and tell you more about this baby...
Reusing things that were meant for Hannah means that I can finally put the things that were given or bought with so much love, to good use. It's actually fulfilling a hope, although I had to go through a bit of a dark cloud to figure that out. Seeing this child use the handmade blankets...the nursery decor that my mother lovingly made...even the flamingo onesie (provided this is a girl)...I think it will feel 100% right. It's just taken me a day to put some perspective on it. I'm super-thankful that Mom and David were there to help, and to "block" me from dwelling on the negative.
After a bloody good cry in the car on the way home, David was kind enough to take me for my favorite sno-cone (S&Js, Arnold, MO!!! Wedding Cake with whipped cream--GET ONE!), and we had a good talk. Well, I talked, and he listened. He's getting better at letting me riff for a while, and then putting in his two cents. He's a pretty sharp dude, That Guy I Married. I'm glad he picked me.
The Sort could have gone so much worse...I'm so thankful that it didn't, and that we were smart enough to do it together. We were exhausted after all of it, and my house is a wreck, but it's done. Now I really do feel like I can start preparing for C-Rex. :)
There was peace in the battlefield, peace that I hadn't even remembered to pray for. I think it's more than possible that a Facebook post I did early in the morning may have put out the red flag to my friends and family that we needed prayer, and maybe they delivered? Because it went better than I'd hoped. So if you prayed, thank you. You helped my family stay sane through a tough day!
Like I said online--God is bigger. Hope is brighter. And Life is beautiful...
I'm looking forward to it.