Losing Control:
I was 21 years old and on my own. I was "playing house" with my boyfriend of a year. I had just gotten home from splurging at the grocery store. While there I had picked up a pregnancy test, I had a gut feeling. I followed the instructions on the packet. When I looked at the results I felt sick to my stomach. So many emotions! Fear, regret, anger. My life was going great and now God was going to throw this curve ball?! I didn't want kids and certainly didn't want them under the current circumstances. What would my parents think? I was the oldest, the one all my siblings looked up to. I had already been kicked out of the house so this was going to make me look even worse. My parents would kill me... No they wouldn't because I was going to take back control of this situation. Immediately I called and scheduled an appointment. I put the groceries away, I eat some strawberries and call my boyfriend to tell him the news. Without telling me he comes over, he wants to talk about options! Options!!! I'm in control and I'm doing this my way. Reluctantly he doesn't argue. The next day I go to the facility. Oh, the devil made it so easy! No protesters, but I'm still scared of the pain the procedure may cause me. They do the ultrasound, I barely glimpse at it, but I remember, to this day I remember that little ball of light. Almost like the sun shinning in a mess of blackness. But that devil, he is good. They tell me I am barely three weeks if that, no heart beat, not attached. To stay in control will require a pill!!! No painful suction, no prolonged wait, easy as pie. I accept, no questions asked. I remember thinking it was weird that the doctor watched while I took the pill, like I wouldn't! I go home and have to insert some pills to fully flush things out. Painful cramping begins but no big deal. I am in control and life can go back to normal, no regrets, just the knowledge I did something wrong.
Fast forward almost 8 years. My boyfriend, now my husband of two years, and I decide we want kids. Well he does and I think I do. Funny how God likes to work. The day my daughter was born was euphoric. Blissful labor, oh and I get to watch the Gator's win while giving birth. The doctor places Briseis on my stomach and that little baby looks dead into my eyes. I feel my heart break into millions of pieces. I was so wrong, I did want kids, just when it was convenient for me. She is my world but a new emotion is sinking in, guilt. Something is trying to resurface, but hey I am in control. I find out my husband cheated on me and we seek out God with a new found passion determine to salvage the marriage. It works.
Briseis is a year, my husband and I are healing and we decide to have another child. I get pregnant with no problems. I am three weeks along. We are helping my parents move from Houston back to Florida. I go to the bathroom, an ever so small blood clot. Fear creeps in, fear not of the unknowing but of the knowing. I'm going to lose this baby. My family tries to comfort me, tells me God knows what He is doing, that something was wrong with the baby. I agree with them, but a new emotion starts sinking in, regret for a sin made long ago. I had no control.
I love my life, I love my God, I love my husband and I love my three children God blessed me with despite what I did. I have asked God to forgive me for taking control of my child's life all those years ago. I have asked the child and family members for the same. I have forgiven myself, but that will never make the regret go away. Regret is the scar tissue that covers old wounds that we cause. It keeps us growing. It hurts, it will never stop hurting. What I did wasn't as bad as not trusting God enough to be in control. I wanted control of a situation I put myself into because I didn't like the outcome I was getting. I know my miscarriage was God's way of showing me, even when I think I'm in control, I'm not. There was nothing I could do to save the baby I miscarried. It has taken me years and years of emotions adding onto other emotions to realize the extent of what I did.
When you take another being's life, it is said you lose a part of your soul. Of that I have no doubt. I took something that wasn't mine to take. I doubted the plan God had for me. I doubted He was really in control of what was going on. Because of my blindness to the fact God was trying to spare me I will forever more have this scar of regret. It is a wound I want no other woman to bear because the scar will never go away, the guilt will remain and it will hurt. God's gift to woman of being able to bear children is a way to lose control and let God take control. Whether from rape, or an abnormality, or an accident. God makes no mistakes, He's in control, all He asks is that we lose control.
I was 21 years old and on my own. I was "playing house" with my boyfriend of a year. I had just gotten home from splurging at the grocery store. While there I had picked up a pregnancy test, I had a gut feeling. I followed the instructions on the packet. When I looked at the results I felt sick to my stomach. So many emotions! Fear, regret, anger. My life was going great and now God was going to throw this curve ball?! I didn't want kids and certainly didn't want them under the current circumstances. What would my parents think? I was the oldest, the one all my siblings looked up to. I had already been kicked out of the house so this was going to make me look even worse. My parents would kill me... No they wouldn't because I was going to take back control of this situation. Immediately I called and scheduled an appointment. I put the groceries away, I eat some strawberries and call my boyfriend to tell him the news. Without telling me he comes over, he wants to talk about options! Options!!! I'm in control and I'm doing this my way. Reluctantly he doesn't argue. The next day I go to the facility. Oh, the devil made it so easy! No protesters, but I'm still scared of the pain the procedure may cause me. They do the ultrasound, I barely glimpse at it, but I remember, to this day I remember that little ball of light. Almost like the sun shinning in a mess of blackness. But that devil, he is good. They tell me I am barely three weeks if that, no heart beat, not attached. To stay in control will require a pill!!! No painful suction, no prolonged wait, easy as pie. I accept, no questions asked. I remember thinking it was weird that the doctor watched while I took the pill, like I wouldn't! I go home and have to insert some pills to fully flush things out. Painful cramping begins but no big deal. I am in control and life can go back to normal, no regrets, just the knowledge I did something wrong.
Fast forward almost 8 years. My boyfriend, now my husband of two years, and I decide we want kids. Well he does and I think I do. Funny how God likes to work. The day my daughter was born was euphoric. Blissful labor, oh and I get to watch the Gator's win while giving birth. The doctor places Briseis on my stomach and that little baby looks dead into my eyes. I feel my heart break into millions of pieces. I was so wrong, I did want kids, just when it was convenient for me. She is my world but a new emotion is sinking in, guilt. Something is trying to resurface, but hey I am in control. I find out my husband cheated on me and we seek out God with a new found passion determine to salvage the marriage. It works.
Briseis is a year, my husband and I are healing and we decide to have another child. I get pregnant with no problems. I am three weeks along. We are helping my parents move from Houston back to Florida. I go to the bathroom, an ever so small blood clot. Fear creeps in, fear not of the unknowing but of the knowing. I'm going to lose this baby. My family tries to comfort me, tells me God knows what He is doing, that something was wrong with the baby. I agree with them, but a new emotion starts sinking in, regret for a sin made long ago. I had no control.
I love my life, I love my God, I love my husband and I love my three children God blessed me with despite what I did. I have asked God to forgive me for taking control of my child's life all those years ago. I have asked the child and family members for the same. I have forgiven myself, but that will never make the regret go away. Regret is the scar tissue that covers old wounds that we cause. It keeps us growing. It hurts, it will never stop hurting. What I did wasn't as bad as not trusting God enough to be in control. I wanted control of a situation I put myself into because I didn't like the outcome I was getting. I know my miscarriage was God's way of showing me, even when I think I'm in control, I'm not. There was nothing I could do to save the baby I miscarried. It has taken me years and years of emotions adding onto other emotions to realize the extent of what I did.
When you take another being's life, it is said you lose a part of your soul. Of that I have no doubt. I took something that wasn't mine to take. I doubted the plan God had for me. I doubted He was really in control of what was going on. Because of my blindness to the fact God was trying to spare me I will forever more have this scar of regret. It is a wound I want no other woman to bear because the scar will never go away, the guilt will remain and it will hurt. God's gift to woman of being able to bear children is a way to lose control and let God take control. Whether from rape, or an abnormality, or an accident. God makes no mistakes, He's in control, all He asks is that we lose control.
Finding Sweet-spot
Every morning it’s the same. Wake up before the sun does. Get the coffee going and the meals made before little feet with beautiful loud voices are up. After daddy leaves it time to eat while mommy goes and prays. Then comes daily chores of getting dressed and beds made.
Some days we get going on school early and I think, “yay!” We are going to make it today. But most days I look at the clock and cry because it is almost spent yet there is so much more to do.
Lunch rolls around and then quiet time. Finally a break from the day, which I need because the house is looking yet again like a disheveled mess. This is a sight I can’t stand in the least! Pardon my grinch like response. The look of it is so overwhelming to a type triple ’A’ person like me. I go to the pantry and eat away while looking at the disorganization that lingers in every room.
From that point on I am on my phone or computer trying to help others. And I want to, I want to so bad! But as I do, in the other room my children live life without me. And I will be honest there are several more times I get on my phone to take a break but with all the anger in the world it only makes things worse.
By dinner time if I’m lucky I planned something good but rush to get it done. In reality it looks like Hot Dogs or nuggets again. I’ll go without because the guilt from what I ate earlier still weighs on me. But who am I kidding here?! Once the kids are put to bed I’ll go back to the pantry because now the cravings kick in again.
It is the same day after day of attempting to get it right but never succeeding.
Where is the sweet-spot? Why can’t I seem to grasp it? I know what I need to do yet I still don’t do it! I just want to find that sweet-spot in life where I have things balanced for more then one day. The spot where days are light and carefree but also ordered and routine. Where I am smiling way more then crying. What is smiling again? It’s been so long since I’ve been able to hold onto it for more then a second or two. Crying is the norm that has stood by my side for almost a whole year now.
So tomorrow I will try again. Tomorrow I will wake up with expectations that it will be the day I find the sweet-spot for my routine, for my home, for my family... for me.
Every morning it’s the same. Wake up before the sun does. Get the coffee going and the meals made before little feet with beautiful loud voices are up. After daddy leaves it time to eat while mommy goes and prays. Then comes daily chores of getting dressed and beds made.
Some days we get going on school early and I think, “yay!” We are going to make it today. But most days I look at the clock and cry because it is almost spent yet there is so much more to do.
Lunch rolls around and then quiet time. Finally a break from the day, which I need because the house is looking yet again like a disheveled mess. This is a sight I can’t stand in the least! Pardon my grinch like response. The look of it is so overwhelming to a type triple ’A’ person like me. I go to the pantry and eat away while looking at the disorganization that lingers in every room.
From that point on I am on my phone or computer trying to help others. And I want to, I want to so bad! But as I do, in the other room my children live life without me. And I will be honest there are several more times I get on my phone to take a break but with all the anger in the world it only makes things worse.
By dinner time if I’m lucky I planned something good but rush to get it done. In reality it looks like Hot Dogs or nuggets again. I’ll go without because the guilt from what I ate earlier still weighs on me. But who am I kidding here?! Once the kids are put to bed I’ll go back to the pantry because now the cravings kick in again.
It is the same day after day of attempting to get it right but never succeeding.
Where is the sweet-spot? Why can’t I seem to grasp it? I know what I need to do yet I still don’t do it! I just want to find that sweet-spot in life where I have things balanced for more then one day. The spot where days are light and carefree but also ordered and routine. Where I am smiling way more then crying. What is smiling again? It’s been so long since I’ve been able to hold onto it for more then a second or two. Crying is the norm that has stood by my side for almost a whole year now.
So tomorrow I will try again. Tomorrow I will wake up with expectations that it will be the day I find the sweet-spot for my routine, for my home, for my family... for me.
Fighting Motherhood
I see them looking at me. Every move I make watching and learning. The pressure begins to build from anxiety to anger to rage. As their fun becomes louder and the mess becomes larger I hear that voice, "You weren't cut out for this".
As the days progress into weeks my children begin to mirror my mood. They smile less and seem on edge. Knowing their Mommy's mood could change from one of fatigue to one of temper. The voice is deafening now, "You have failed! You can't do this! You will only be known as a mom! They will only remember the bad times! They will adopt your horrible seeds of doubt, rage, discouragement, hopelessness!"
I fall to my knees, tears welling up inside and flowing freely down my face. What will my children think? That I am a baby? That I am weak? That they are the reason for my tears? Ever so gently I feel little hands and little arms embrace me. Soft little kisses and whispers saying, "Mommy don't cry, we love you".
As I embrace the love radiating from these miracles I carried in my womb I allow God to speak through them. No yelling, no guilt, no reprimands. Just gentle whispers of admiration.
From that point on I declare war on the devil. For what he tried to take from me. For the lies he yelled to me. I go to my knees in battle, not just for my sake but for my children. I show them how to fight with the greatest weapon we have. Prayer. I allow God to show me who I am. A mother yes, but also a warrior, a teacher, a doctor, a cook, a comforter, and above all else a servant like Christ. They watch me fight this battle. They watch me win as time goes on. Their smiles return and they are carefree around me. Their is lots of laughter in the house and dancing too!
As I tuck them into bed at night, tired from a day of serving out of love, I kiss them and as I do, breath in their sweet childlike scent. As I close their doors a peace washes over me. I have won, I have won back my Motherhood.
I see them looking at me. Every move I make watching and learning. The pressure begins to build from anxiety to anger to rage. As their fun becomes louder and the mess becomes larger I hear that voice, "You weren't cut out for this".
As the days progress into weeks my children begin to mirror my mood. They smile less and seem on edge. Knowing their Mommy's mood could change from one of fatigue to one of temper. The voice is deafening now, "You have failed! You can't do this! You will only be known as a mom! They will only remember the bad times! They will adopt your horrible seeds of doubt, rage, discouragement, hopelessness!"
I fall to my knees, tears welling up inside and flowing freely down my face. What will my children think? That I am a baby? That I am weak? That they are the reason for my tears? Ever so gently I feel little hands and little arms embrace me. Soft little kisses and whispers saying, "Mommy don't cry, we love you".
As I embrace the love radiating from these miracles I carried in my womb I allow God to speak through them. No yelling, no guilt, no reprimands. Just gentle whispers of admiration.
From that point on I declare war on the devil. For what he tried to take from me. For the lies he yelled to me. I go to my knees in battle, not just for my sake but for my children. I show them how to fight with the greatest weapon we have. Prayer. I allow God to show me who I am. A mother yes, but also a warrior, a teacher, a doctor, a cook, a comforter, and above all else a servant like Christ. They watch me fight this battle. They watch me win as time goes on. Their smiles return and they are carefree around me. Their is lots of laughter in the house and dancing too!
As I tuck them into bed at night, tired from a day of serving out of love, I kiss them and as I do, breath in their sweet childlike scent. As I close their doors a peace washes over me. I have won, I have won back my Motherhood.
Play Away
Hurry, hurry!!! That phrase is the norm in our home these days. No time to break, no time to waste. They stop what they are doing and obey. They don't yell or complain as I rush them out the door. We have no time to play.
When did this change? I recall the days my oldest and I had no hurries. We took our time, we explored the world, we used our imagination. Sure there were things to do, and we did them, but not in a rush. We had all the time to play.
Two more kids later and time always has a name; doctor, errands, events. Even as simple as get dressed and brush teeth. Hurry, hurry!!! And they obey.
Then one day God makes me be still. I hear quiet voices. No yelling, no screaming. We have something to be at, but a voice is whispering "hush". I follow the little voices I know so well. With imaginations going strong they are playing so well. I listen to the voice that begs me to slow. Time will be gone before I know it. So I am still... and I let them play away.
