Friday, October 31, 2008
Thursday, October 30, 2008
is it snack time?
It’s painfully obvious that hubby and I need to pursue a new career. Or at least a part-time one that would better provide for the four hungry mouths that make up part of this family.
We need to start farming.
Keep in mind we already plant a rather large garden and this year even raised chickens to butcher. We apparently need to add to the crops and livestock. I draw the line at a milk cow, but I don’t think hubby would be opposed to goats.
It’s getting to be almost ridiculous - one chicken is no longer enough for all of us, unless I have at least three vegetables along with it, plus bread and maybe even something for dessert. We should have raised 50 this year instead of just 25.
No matter how many times I see it with my own eyes, I still cannot believe how much these kids of ours can eat. Even the two-year-old packs away more food in a meal than I could ever attempt to gag down. Last week he had third helpings of beef stew, even after gobbling down two dinner rolls and a heaping helping of fried cabbage. Last night Boy #3 actually broke a bowl trying to dish himself more wild rice soup. (I have no idea if it was seconds or thirds, but either way I wasn’t very happy.)
But, in spite of all of this food consumption, the thing that is really driving me crazy are the endless questions about snacks.
“Is it snack time?” (15 minutes after breakfast.)
“Is it snack time yet?” (Two minutes later.)
The only good thing is that at least two of them have learned to tell time, just by trying to figure out when snack time actually is. The trouble is that the time varies in direct proportion to how easily they wear me down with their incessant questions about snacks or what they can have for a snack. Some days, snack time has come as early as 8:30 am just because the only time the house is quiet when four boys are eating.
After lunch, we start the same routine all over again. I’m starting to seriously wonder if they’re all carrying some sort of tapeworm.
Half an hour after consuming an ungodly amount of food for lunch - trust me you wouldn’t believe me if I told you - they’re already starting in.
“Can I have a snack?”
“When can I have a snack?”
“Is it snack time?”
What I need is a snack laced with tryptophan, or some other tranquilizer that would put them to sleep for an hour so I could either work uninterrupted or take a nap. I’m sure there is something out there that would fit the bill, but my guess is it’s only used in zoos. Wait - this place would qualify!
There is no physical way that these boys could actually be hungry for a snack, so their desire to have one has got to be coming from somewhere else. Gluttony perhaps? If they know there is candy in the cupboard, they are much more likely to beg for snacks. It’s as if they feel they’re entitled to that snack, simply because they exist and the snack exists in the cupboard.
Although I suppose many of us have a love-hate relationship with food and/or snacks like chips, pop and ice cream. We want them even though we know they aren’t terribly good for us. They just taste good. And we usually eat them regardless of whether we’re actually hungry or not.
It’s like something clicks in our brains telling us - “It’s snack time!” - and off we go to the fridge or freezer or convenience store to find chocolate, candy or a mocha latte.
So I am not all that different from my kids - only slightly more economically capable (I can purchase my own snacks) and slightly better at justifying why I need snack time (Of course I’m worth it.) Speaking of that, I believe there is a cinnamon chip scone calling my name.
Isn’t it snack time?
We need to start farming.
Keep in mind we already plant a rather large garden and this year even raised chickens to butcher. We apparently need to add to the crops and livestock. I draw the line at a milk cow, but I don’t think hubby would be opposed to goats.
It’s getting to be almost ridiculous - one chicken is no longer enough for all of us, unless I have at least three vegetables along with it, plus bread and maybe even something for dessert. We should have raised 50 this year instead of just 25.
No matter how many times I see it with my own eyes, I still cannot believe how much these kids of ours can eat. Even the two-year-old packs away more food in a meal than I could ever attempt to gag down. Last week he had third helpings of beef stew, even after gobbling down two dinner rolls and a heaping helping of fried cabbage. Last night Boy #3 actually broke a bowl trying to dish himself more wild rice soup. (I have no idea if it was seconds or thirds, but either way I wasn’t very happy.)
But, in spite of all of this food consumption, the thing that is really driving me crazy are the endless questions about snacks.
“Is it snack time?” (15 minutes after breakfast.)
“Is it snack time yet?” (Two minutes later.)
The only good thing is that at least two of them have learned to tell time, just by trying to figure out when snack time actually is. The trouble is that the time varies in direct proportion to how easily they wear me down with their incessant questions about snacks or what they can have for a snack. Some days, snack time has come as early as 8:30 am just because the only time the house is quiet when four boys are eating.
After lunch, we start the same routine all over again. I’m starting to seriously wonder if they’re all carrying some sort of tapeworm.
Half an hour after consuming an ungodly amount of food for lunch - trust me you wouldn’t believe me if I told you - they’re already starting in.
“Can I have a snack?”
“When can I have a snack?”
“Is it snack time?”
What I need is a snack laced with tryptophan, or some other tranquilizer that would put them to sleep for an hour so I could either work uninterrupted or take a nap. I’m sure there is something out there that would fit the bill, but my guess is it’s only used in zoos. Wait - this place would qualify!
There is no physical way that these boys could actually be hungry for a snack, so their desire to have one has got to be coming from somewhere else. Gluttony perhaps? If they know there is candy in the cupboard, they are much more likely to beg for snacks. It’s as if they feel they’re entitled to that snack, simply because they exist and the snack exists in the cupboard.
Although I suppose many of us have a love-hate relationship with food and/or snacks like chips, pop and ice cream. We want them even though we know they aren’t terribly good for us. They just taste good. And we usually eat them regardless of whether we’re actually hungry or not.
It’s like something clicks in our brains telling us - “It’s snack time!” - and off we go to the fridge or freezer or convenience store to find chocolate, candy or a mocha latte.
So I am not all that different from my kids - only slightly more economically capable (I can purchase my own snacks) and slightly better at justifying why I need snack time (Of course I’m worth it.) Speaking of that, I believe there is a cinnamon chip scone calling my name.
Isn’t it snack time?
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
how to survive a miscarriage
Yes that title is a bit misleading. I believe it's about as possible to survive a miscarriage as it is to survive a breast cancer diagnosis or survive raising kids or survive life in general. It's possible, but it's just not very easy. And there are no shortcuts.
There are however, a few things that do make it better. Here's my list:
1) Have a good, empathetic doctor. (Not as easy as you might think, and unfortunately you have no way of knowing whether your OB will be kind during a loss until you face one with him/her.) But it helps to know that they're sad with you and that they support whatever decisions you make.
2) Have close friends who have experienced a miscarriage. That way you have someone you can just call out of the blue when you're having a bad day because you saw a PG woman at Walmart and just need to vent. They will automatically understand.
3) Have a supportive family. (This might be out of your control, but there's no doubt it helps) There are certain times when family can make all the difference in the world - when they can take kids for you or just love you when you need it most. Sometimes they don't even have to say anything, and yet you feel that they care.
4) Have a God big enough to handle all the emotions that you'll face. Your God needs to be big enough to handle your anger, your pain and your questions. I guess part of having a God like this would also include having faith as well in Him and His plan and purpose, even if you can't understand it.
5) Have people praying for you. No one can ever convince me that there isn't power in prayer. I've felt its calming effects too many times to discount its power. I would say however, that its probably even more powerful if people know specifically what to pray for and what your needs are - safety, peace, comfort or whatever.
6) Have an outlet for your emotions. For me that is this blog and sometimes the ears of my close friends. But for others it might be a spouse, a journal, prayer time, etc. But, I believe it is essential to at least be able to somehow express your feelings, even if you can't express them adequately or eloquently. Sometimes all you need to say is that you're pissed or blue or even in denial.
7) Have a plan for recovery. I'm referring more to the physical recovery here, because the emotional one takes much longer. Plan to rest. Plan to bone up on multi-vitamins and liquids and any thing your body may need. Allow yourself to take it a bit easy, especially if you're still facing surgery or passing the baby. After all of that is over, plan to be a bit out of commission for awhile and slowly ease back into life.
8) Let your grief take you wherever it might. This can run the gamut from denial to anger to questions to tears to sadness to even bitterness. Let it run its course. If you don't allow yourself to feel whatever it is you might be feeling, you run the risk of stuffing emotions that will only come out some other way at a later date. It's much easier (in the long run) to deal with it all when it comes.
For me, my reaction has been different with each miscarriage. My first one was devastating and very, very depressing. I remember feeling like I was being punished for something and being so angry because I so wanted another baby. With the second one the grief was shorter but much more intense. My physical recovery was also much harder because I lost so much blood, so I had the added problem of feeling so tired and unable to do anything. With the third, I got very angry and blamed God for being unfair and unkind and unloving. We lost that baby at 14 weeks and again the recovery was very difficult because I had to be induced and then have a D&C - I bled for six weeks and it took at least three months before the hormones were back to normal. The entire thing was a battle. This miscarriage has been different still. I took about four days to myself - didn't answer my telephone, didn't talk to anyone and just was alone. I couldn't even pray. I couldn't bear the thought of talking to a God who could perform a miracle and allow it to slip away. After those four days, I felt I could shake it off, "that's enough of this" and carry on. I returned some phone calls, let people know what was going on and got back into the routine of life. I cried very little. Maybe I will cry more as this progresses and I wait for baby to pass, but I doubt it. I really feel like this is just how it's going to be and don't feel like fighting it. There's a strange peace in accepting things, even if you don't like what's happened. But, really what can I do about it anyway? :)
Anyway, my point still is to let whatever emotions and feelings you might be having to just happen - you will eventually feel better, life will become normal again and you will get through it.
Surviving is possible, but only one day at a time.
There are however, a few things that do make it better. Here's my list:
1) Have a good, empathetic doctor. (Not as easy as you might think, and unfortunately you have no way of knowing whether your OB will be kind during a loss until you face one with him/her.) But it helps to know that they're sad with you and that they support whatever decisions you make.
2) Have close friends who have experienced a miscarriage. That way you have someone you can just call out of the blue when you're having a bad day because you saw a PG woman at Walmart and just need to vent. They will automatically understand.
3) Have a supportive family. (This might be out of your control, but there's no doubt it helps) There are certain times when family can make all the difference in the world - when they can take kids for you or just love you when you need it most. Sometimes they don't even have to say anything, and yet you feel that they care.
4) Have a God big enough to handle all the emotions that you'll face. Your God needs to be big enough to handle your anger, your pain and your questions. I guess part of having a God like this would also include having faith as well in Him and His plan and purpose, even if you can't understand it.
5) Have people praying for you. No one can ever convince me that there isn't power in prayer. I've felt its calming effects too many times to discount its power. I would say however, that its probably even more powerful if people know specifically what to pray for and what your needs are - safety, peace, comfort or whatever.
6) Have an outlet for your emotions. For me that is this blog and sometimes the ears of my close friends. But for others it might be a spouse, a journal, prayer time, etc. But, I believe it is essential to at least be able to somehow express your feelings, even if you can't express them adequately or eloquently. Sometimes all you need to say is that you're pissed or blue or even in denial.
7) Have a plan for recovery. I'm referring more to the physical recovery here, because the emotional one takes much longer. Plan to rest. Plan to bone up on multi-vitamins and liquids and any thing your body may need. Allow yourself to take it a bit easy, especially if you're still facing surgery or passing the baby. After all of that is over, plan to be a bit out of commission for awhile and slowly ease back into life.
8) Let your grief take you wherever it might. This can run the gamut from denial to anger to questions to tears to sadness to even bitterness. Let it run its course. If you don't allow yourself to feel whatever it is you might be feeling, you run the risk of stuffing emotions that will only come out some other way at a later date. It's much easier (in the long run) to deal with it all when it comes.
For me, my reaction has been different with each miscarriage. My first one was devastating and very, very depressing. I remember feeling like I was being punished for something and being so angry because I so wanted another baby. With the second one the grief was shorter but much more intense. My physical recovery was also much harder because I lost so much blood, so I had the added problem of feeling so tired and unable to do anything. With the third, I got very angry and blamed God for being unfair and unkind and unloving. We lost that baby at 14 weeks and again the recovery was very difficult because I had to be induced and then have a D&C - I bled for six weeks and it took at least three months before the hormones were back to normal. The entire thing was a battle. This miscarriage has been different still. I took about four days to myself - didn't answer my telephone, didn't talk to anyone and just was alone. I couldn't even pray. I couldn't bear the thought of talking to a God who could perform a miracle and allow it to slip away. After those four days, I felt I could shake it off, "that's enough of this" and carry on. I returned some phone calls, let people know what was going on and got back into the routine of life. I cried very little. Maybe I will cry more as this progresses and I wait for baby to pass, but I doubt it. I really feel like this is just how it's going to be and don't feel like fighting it. There's a strange peace in accepting things, even if you don't like what's happened. But, really what can I do about it anyway? :)
Anyway, my point still is to let whatever emotions and feelings you might be having to just happen - you will eventually feel better, life will become normal again and you will get through it.
Surviving is possible, but only one day at a time.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
slippers
Why I doubt God sometimes is beyond me. He often proves Himself in the smallest little ways and yet I don't trust Him in the BIG things. I suppose my humanness has much to do with it. And my pride. And my stubbornness.
Thursday my sister-in-law took my boys to her house and I decided to go shopping for slippers. It's getting cold in MN and my feet freeze. Plus, I'm too cheap to put the heat on all the way, so the house is still a bit on the cool side. Anyway, I trucked into town in hopes of finding something that wasn't fuzzy or furry or cutesy, just some plain warm leather slippers.
My first stop - Marshalls - no luck. Only fuzzy bath slippers. But I did run into a couple from church. Chit-chatted awhile, then made a couple of other necessary errand stops at Joann Fabrics and Old Navy. I was just getting ready to head to Kohl's or JCPenney when I got a call requiring me to head toward home. Never made it anywhere else and I sighed very loudly as I passed Cabela's thinking that's probably where I should have gone.
I got home a bit out of sorts because I really wanted slippers. I crabbed at hubby and vented to a friend, who suggested I look at Cabela's or Land's End. Maybe tomorrow I thought. Tonight I'm just going to be crabby because my toes are cold and I don't have any new slippers to wear.
Well, life took over and I forgot about my slippers, until I received a package this afternoon, from.....drum roll please.....Land's End. Inside was a pair of gorgeous orange suede slipper mules that fit perfectly and were toasty warm. Tucked inside was a note that said: "Thinking about you, wishing you didn't have to go thru this again. Praying you will feel the Lord's peace during this difficult time. Lots of love..."
The gift, which came via my cousin, but really from the Lord, was even more miraculous because I don't believe I ever mentioned to her my desire for new slippers. Somehow God told her that I needed them.
Another perfect example of how God provides for me, even though I don't deserve orange suede slippers. (They match so well with my turquoise socks, but I was too lazy to change to something more coordinated.)
Thursday my sister-in-law took my boys to her house and I decided to go shopping for slippers. It's getting cold in MN and my feet freeze. Plus, I'm too cheap to put the heat on all the way, so the house is still a bit on the cool side. Anyway, I trucked into town in hopes of finding something that wasn't fuzzy or furry or cutesy, just some plain warm leather slippers.
My first stop - Marshalls - no luck. Only fuzzy bath slippers. But I did run into a couple from church. Chit-chatted awhile, then made a couple of other necessary errand stops at Joann Fabrics and Old Navy. I was just getting ready to head to Kohl's or JCPenney when I got a call requiring me to head toward home. Never made it anywhere else and I sighed very loudly as I passed Cabela's thinking that's probably where I should have gone.
I got home a bit out of sorts because I really wanted slippers. I crabbed at hubby and vented to a friend, who suggested I look at Cabela's or Land's End. Maybe tomorrow I thought. Tonight I'm just going to be crabby because my toes are cold and I don't have any new slippers to wear.
Well, life took over and I forgot about my slippers, until I received a package this afternoon, from.....drum roll please.....Land's End. Inside was a pair of gorgeous orange suede slipper mules that fit perfectly and were toasty warm. Tucked inside was a note that said: "Thinking about you, wishing you didn't have to go thru this again. Praying you will feel the Lord's peace during this difficult time. Lots of love..."
The gift, which came via my cousin, but really from the Lord, was even more miraculous because I don't believe I ever mentioned to her my desire for new slippers. Somehow God told her that I needed them.
Another perfect example of how God provides for me, even though I don't deserve orange suede slippers. (They match so well with my turquoise socks, but I was too lazy to change to something more coordinated.)
Thursday, October 23, 2008
in the wash today...
A load of towels that has been washed and sitting in the washer since Sunday evening. Phew! Thank goodness for Febreze. Dumped half a bottle in and rewashed the entire load.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
what i accomplished today...
I'm sure this will impress so many of you, but hey all things considered, I'm pretty proud of myself.
1. Actually did a science lesson with boy #3. (But only because I was feeling guilty about crabbing at him last night and that we have done almost no science since school started. 206 bones in the human body. The smallest is the stirrup in the ear. The strongest is the thigh bone. And he now knows that when I grab his ear to stop him from pummeling his younger brother, I'm grabbing cartilage.)
2. Took a shower. (But only after a guy from church stopped by to tell me he missed me - we haven't been to church since the first weekend in September - and I realized that I was a complete greaseball, bedhead who was still wearing pjs at 10:30 am.)
3. Made my bed. (But only because it's the only place in the house I can fold laundry. I still haven't got to the laundry.)
4. Returned one phone call. (But only because it was my sister-in-law and I wanted to get rid of my kids, who at the time were fighting over who got to use the peanut butter knife and in what order the peanut butter and jelly should be put on bread.)
5. Got the main floor somewhat picked up. (But only because I made the boys do it - since it's their mess anyway. I used the sleep-over at their aunt's as a bribe. It worked very well. And I don't think they felt taken advantage of in the least bit.)
6. Responded to an email from a friend. (But only because I first emailed her to ask how she survived five miscarriages - I figured she had some wisdom and insight to offer. I wasn't disappointed.)
7. Cancelled the D&C surgery for Friday. (But only because I figured it was a great way of to get out of going anywhere for awhile. Kidding. I may regret that decision, but it felt right at the time.)
There you have it - all that I accomplished today. And it's only 4 pm. Almost time for Jeopardy.
1. Actually did a science lesson with boy #3. (But only because I was feeling guilty about crabbing at him last night and that we have done almost no science since school started. 206 bones in the human body. The smallest is the stirrup in the ear. The strongest is the thigh bone. And he now knows that when I grab his ear to stop him from pummeling his younger brother, I'm grabbing cartilage.)
2. Took a shower. (But only after a guy from church stopped by to tell me he missed me - we haven't been to church since the first weekend in September - and I realized that I was a complete greaseball, bedhead who was still wearing pjs at 10:30 am.)
3. Made my bed. (But only because it's the only place in the house I can fold laundry. I still haven't got to the laundry.)
4. Returned one phone call. (But only because it was my sister-in-law and I wanted to get rid of my kids, who at the time were fighting over who got to use the peanut butter knife and in what order the peanut butter and jelly should be put on bread.)
5. Got the main floor somewhat picked up. (But only because I made the boys do it - since it's their mess anyway. I used the sleep-over at their aunt's as a bribe. It worked very well. And I don't think they felt taken advantage of in the least bit.)
6. Responded to an email from a friend. (But only because I first emailed her to ask how she survived five miscarriages - I figured she had some wisdom and insight to offer. I wasn't disappointed.)
7. Cancelled the D&C surgery for Friday. (But only because I figured it was a great way of to get out of going anywhere for awhile. Kidding. I may regret that decision, but it felt right at the time.)
There you have it - all that I accomplished today. And it's only 4 pm. Almost time for Jeopardy.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
tough questions
How do you trust that God has a purpose in everything, even tragedy?
How does God work things for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose?
Why does He require so much of us?
Who ever came up with the idea that God never gives us more than we can handle?
How do you not lose your faith when you can't even pray?
Can you swear at God and still be a Christian?
What more can a person learn from a fourth miscarriage?
I'm sure there are many more questions a person could have - none of which have easy answers. I might add to this list as I think of more. If you have any answers - feel free to share.
How does God work things for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose?
Why does He require so much of us?
Who ever came up with the idea that God never gives us more than we can handle?
How do you not lose your faith when you can't even pray?
Can you swear at God and still be a Christian?
What more can a person learn from a fourth miscarriage?
I'm sure there are many more questions a person could have - none of which have easy answers. I might add to this list as I think of more. If you have any answers - feel free to share.
Monday, October 20, 2008
what a waste...
I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry anymore.
I now have four living children and four dead children. And I'm not sure if I'm upset about that or still too shocked to feel much of anything. Surprise pregnancies are just that - surprising, unexpected and even a bit disturbing if you're not ready for all that again. But, I truly felt like I was taking everything in stride - "If this is what God wants for me, even though I'm not so sure about it - then it will be okay."
Only it wasn't. And now it's not. I went it to every doctor's appointment thinking it would be okay either way - okay if the baby lived and okay if the baby died. I wasn't thrilled to be pregnant, even though I did my best to accept it. And now on this side of it, I'm not thrilled to have lost another child either. So, it really wasn't okay either way.
I kind of figured that if God can miraculously keep a baby alive in spite of heavy bleeding, then somehow this child was MEANT to survive - not for just three more weeks, but for a full-term pregnancy. How wrong I was to believe in the possibility of a long-term miracle.
So right now I can be grateful that I don't have to purchase a new car seat. I don't have to give up my office for a nursery. Our entire family will still be able to fit in the truck. And I guess I don't have to go through the pain of labor. Honestly, it's a pretty good list of things that I'm legitimately grateful for, but a list that I hope you can hear the sarcasm behind.
Thinking back over the last three weeks (two of which I have been completely unable to do much of anything), I can't help but feel like everything was such a waste. It was a complete waste of time to baby myself and still lose a baby. It was a complete waste of time and resources to have people dote on me, bringing meals, cleaning the house, cooking for us and doing the grocery shopping. It seems like a waste to share my emotions, fears and needs with other people, only to have to turn around and tell them, well, sorry the baby didn't make it in spite of all your good wishes and thoughts and prayers.
I really feel like everyone, myself included, just wasted three weeks for nothing. I am carrying a baby who died anyway. Died in spite of my bed rest. Died in spite of prayers for healing and safety. Died in spite of a miraculous survival at eight weeks. And died in spite of a mother's body that is fertile enough to conceive, but not fruitful enough to bear the harvest.
I keep telling myself that it will be okay, but I don't think it will. I don't feel the anger like I did eight months ago when I lost baby number 3. What I do feel now with the loss of baby 4 is betrayed - both by my body and by God. I just don't understand how he can allow conception, allow a miracle and then allow it to quietly slip away.
Of course, I don't know that the baby quietly slipped away - I'm saying that for my sanity. For all I know, this child could have died a horrific suffocating death being smothered by my body not allowing it enough oxygen, nutrients or whatever else it needed and obviously didn't receive.
Solomon was right when he said everything is meaningless - a chasing after the sun. I call it a waste.
I now have four living children and four dead children. And I'm not sure if I'm upset about that or still too shocked to feel much of anything. Surprise pregnancies are just that - surprising, unexpected and even a bit disturbing if you're not ready for all that again. But, I truly felt like I was taking everything in stride - "If this is what God wants for me, even though I'm not so sure about it - then it will be okay."
Only it wasn't. And now it's not. I went it to every doctor's appointment thinking it would be okay either way - okay if the baby lived and okay if the baby died. I wasn't thrilled to be pregnant, even though I did my best to accept it. And now on this side of it, I'm not thrilled to have lost another child either. So, it really wasn't okay either way.
I kind of figured that if God can miraculously keep a baby alive in spite of heavy bleeding, then somehow this child was MEANT to survive - not for just three more weeks, but for a full-term pregnancy. How wrong I was to believe in the possibility of a long-term miracle.
So right now I can be grateful that I don't have to purchase a new car seat. I don't have to give up my office for a nursery. Our entire family will still be able to fit in the truck. And I guess I don't have to go through the pain of labor. Honestly, it's a pretty good list of things that I'm legitimately grateful for, but a list that I hope you can hear the sarcasm behind.
Thinking back over the last three weeks (two of which I have been completely unable to do much of anything), I can't help but feel like everything was such a waste. It was a complete waste of time to baby myself and still lose a baby. It was a complete waste of time and resources to have people dote on me, bringing meals, cleaning the house, cooking for us and doing the grocery shopping. It seems like a waste to share my emotions, fears and needs with other people, only to have to turn around and tell them, well, sorry the baby didn't make it in spite of all your good wishes and thoughts and prayers.
I really feel like everyone, myself included, just wasted three weeks for nothing. I am carrying a baby who died anyway. Died in spite of my bed rest. Died in spite of prayers for healing and safety. Died in spite of a miraculous survival at eight weeks. And died in spite of a mother's body that is fertile enough to conceive, but not fruitful enough to bear the harvest.
I keep telling myself that it will be okay, but I don't think it will. I don't feel the anger like I did eight months ago when I lost baby number 3. What I do feel now with the loss of baby 4 is betrayed - both by my body and by God. I just don't understand how he can allow conception, allow a miracle and then allow it to quietly slip away.
Of course, I don't know that the baby quietly slipped away - I'm saying that for my sanity. For all I know, this child could have died a horrific suffocating death being smothered by my body not allowing it enough oxygen, nutrients or whatever else it needed and obviously didn't receive.
Solomon was right when he said everything is meaningless - a chasing after the sun. I call it a waste.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
humble pie
There are some secrets I would rather not share. I keep them fantastically hidden from most everyone but my husband and children. They are things that would mortify me if people knew. They are things that would humiliate me so badly I'd have to leave the state.
And today, they were discovered.
So, in the spirit of learning humility - I'm going to take a real leap and share my deepest darkest skeletons with everyone else - no more secrets for me.
A dear friend came over today to clean my house. As if that wasn't mortifying enough, she warned me that she would be upset with me if I cleaned before she got here. (Boy, does she knows me.) Luckily, I avoided ticking her off because I simply didn't have the energy to do anything beyond making my bed and shutting my bedroom door. (But as you'll see later, even that didn't help.)
I was laying on the couch sick to my gut when she arrived, breezy and beautiful. What I wouldn't give to wear make-up again - can't even remember when I last put on some lipstick.
She asked what I wanted done. (I almost confessed that I'd really just like a fairy godmother to say bibbedy-bobbedy-boo. But that would have been rude.) So I swallowed the first piece of humble pie and pointed to the kitchen floor, in dire need of a scrubbing. She got right to work, while I cringed inside, wondering at how much food really was stuck underneath the bench where two piglets slobber their meals.
She finished the floor and started working on the dishes in the sink. (I think one pot had been soaking for four days - but it sometimes takes that long to get clean, doesn't it?) In the meantime, the kids started a brave plan to destroy any progress she made in the kitchen by getting all the lunch stuff out. After that mess was cleaned up she got back down under the table to sweep up the bread crumbs and whatever else got dropped.
I would have been content with all that, but she was determined to really make me learn a lesson today. "Laundry?" she asked. (I swore there was a gleam in her eye.) Um, no that's okay. She didn't buy it. (Who would in a house of four boys?)
I swallowed hard, led her upstairs to my bedroom, and opened the door to show her the eight loads of clean laundry piled on the floor, needing sorting and folding. Then I made a huge mistake. I entered the laundry room to check on the wash I had started this morning. The load in the dryer wasn't dry, so I put it going longer, shut the door and cringed at all the clothes I had to walk over just to get into the room and the smell of all the dirty dish towels (you know the smell, I know you do.)
She folded all the clothes upstairs, then called the boys in to help her identify what belonged to whom. And somehow she convinced the older two to put their things away - and I didn't hear any whining!
She then came down the stairs with a puzzled look on her face. "Where's your dryer?" (I tried to fake sleep - it didn't work.) "I'm not going to tell you," I insisted. But, she figured out how to get the boys to divulge family secrets.
By the time she was ready to leave, I was ready for a nap. I humbly thanked this angel who didn't seem to mind what the condition of my house was and went upstairs to nap with boy #4, only to find that she had scrubbed the bathroom floor, cleaned all the toothpaste off the mirror and the sink and neatly placed three baskets of folded laundry by my closet. And, she put a load of wash in the dryer and another one going in the washer. I hope she had her eyes closed when she was in that disaster area.
I fell asleep to the hum, squeak, hum of the dryer, the rumbling of the washing machine and the whooshes of the dishwasher going downstairs. Who says housework isn't tiring? As I was drifting to sleep, I suddenly remembered her parting words: "I'll be back!"
Aaah! So much for sleep...
And today, they were discovered.
So, in the spirit of learning humility - I'm going to take a real leap and share my deepest darkest skeletons with everyone else - no more secrets for me.
A dear friend came over today to clean my house. As if that wasn't mortifying enough, she warned me that she would be upset with me if I cleaned before she got here. (Boy, does she knows me.) Luckily, I avoided ticking her off because I simply didn't have the energy to do anything beyond making my bed and shutting my bedroom door. (But as you'll see later, even that didn't help.)
I was laying on the couch sick to my gut when she arrived, breezy and beautiful. What I wouldn't give to wear make-up again - can't even remember when I last put on some lipstick.
She asked what I wanted done. (I almost confessed that I'd really just like a fairy godmother to say bibbedy-bobbedy-boo. But that would have been rude.) So I swallowed the first piece of humble pie and pointed to the kitchen floor, in dire need of a scrubbing. She got right to work, while I cringed inside, wondering at how much food really was stuck underneath the bench where two piglets slobber their meals.
She finished the floor and started working on the dishes in the sink. (I think one pot had been soaking for four days - but it sometimes takes that long to get clean, doesn't it?) In the meantime, the kids started a brave plan to destroy any progress she made in the kitchen by getting all the lunch stuff out. After that mess was cleaned up she got back down under the table to sweep up the bread crumbs and whatever else got dropped.
I would have been content with all that, but she was determined to really make me learn a lesson today. "Laundry?" she asked. (I swore there was a gleam in her eye.) Um, no that's okay. She didn't buy it. (Who would in a house of four boys?)
I swallowed hard, led her upstairs to my bedroom, and opened the door to show her the eight loads of clean laundry piled on the floor, needing sorting and folding. Then I made a huge mistake. I entered the laundry room to check on the wash I had started this morning. The load in the dryer wasn't dry, so I put it going longer, shut the door and cringed at all the clothes I had to walk over just to get into the room and the smell of all the dirty dish towels (you know the smell, I know you do.)
She folded all the clothes upstairs, then called the boys in to help her identify what belonged to whom. And somehow she convinced the older two to put their things away - and I didn't hear any whining!
She then came down the stairs with a puzzled look on her face. "Where's your dryer?" (I tried to fake sleep - it didn't work.) "I'm not going to tell you," I insisted. But, she figured out how to get the boys to divulge family secrets.
By the time she was ready to leave, I was ready for a nap. I humbly thanked this angel who didn't seem to mind what the condition of my house was and went upstairs to nap with boy #4, only to find that she had scrubbed the bathroom floor, cleaned all the toothpaste off the mirror and the sink and neatly placed three baskets of folded laundry by my closet. And, she put a load of wash in the dryer and another one going in the washer. I hope she had her eyes closed when she was in that disaster area.
I fell asleep to the hum, squeak, hum of the dryer, the rumbling of the washing machine and the whooshes of the dishwasher going downstairs. Who says housework isn't tiring? As I was drifting to sleep, I suddenly remembered her parting words: "I'll be back!"
Aaah! So much for sleep...
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