J: The sun isn't awake yet. It has to stretch and roll around in bed for a while before it's ready to get up.
C: Oh, like mommy?
J: Yes, Charlie, just like mommy.
Monday, October 17, 2016
Friday, October 14, 2016
Loss
We lost our baby last week.
A week before it happened, I dreamt it was a boy.
We had told close friends and some family that we were expecting. The due date was May 31--four May babies! Excitement. Joy. We had started clearing out the "nursery"--just for fun.
On Tuesday, October 5, 2016, I went to my appointment. The nurse asked if I had taken tests at home. "Yes, of course." "We have to ask everyone," she replied. She told me the pregnancy test showed only a faint line. The nurse sounded so cautious and sad. She told me that if I were to start bleeding or have bad pain, I should go straight to the ER--then she did a blood test.
I was furious and scared. We had a perfectly normal first pregnancy. Why would this nurse suggest that something horrible was about to happen? No.
The next morning, I was told that my HCG number was low. "How low?" I asked. "Very low. I'm so sorry. It is a viable pregnancy, so it can go one of two ways. We'll know a lot more when we take your blood on Thursday."
The next morning, I was told that my HCG number was low. "How low?" I asked. "Very low. I'm so sorry. It is a viable pregnancy, so it can go one of two ways. We'll know a lot more when we take your blood on Thursday."
The next three days were a blur. I cried, I felt sick, and I was numb--all at once. I woke up and drove to school to face my 80 tenth and eleventh graders, hiding my endured pain and anxiety.
I waited until Thursday for my second blood test. I had asked the nurse to call close to 9:30 a.m. the next morning since that was my planning block. I called them because I couldn't wait, but the nurses were all busy. When I went to the bathroom, I had started bleeding.
No. No. No.
No. No. No.
On my drive home, the office called me back. My HCG number was much lower, and the woman on the other end said it was a miscarriage. She said she was so sorry and asked if there was anything she could do.
What can you do in a moment like this?
What can you do in a moment like this?
I've tried to write down my feelings, but I just sit silently, typing, deleting, typing, deleting. How can you express this loss? It isn't known or seen, and those who haven't experienced it will never know the feeling.
When I used to hear that someone had a miscarriage, I always felt terrible for them, but I didn't know.
Maybe they were stressed out.
Maybe they had a drink or three when they conceived and didn't realize.
I didn't know that these happen to 1 in 4 pregnancies, 25%, and there is usually absolutely no reason. The baby is there, alive, and then it is gone.
Now that I've been through it, here's what I know:
I know the fear of not knowing whether or not you will lose your baby.
I know the internal shame--as if it is your fault--as you try to think back to when it could have gone wrong.
I know the desire to tell friends in person, but the only way it was possible was through words. I can't face this reality out loud. I can't hear this.
I know the naive hope that somehow it is all a mistake. Maybe my baby is still there.
I know the anger, the furious anger, toward whoever tells you the news. Who do you think you are?
I know the pregnancy symptoms you feel and then feel dissipate as your heart breaks more each day.
I know it's not a one-day deal. You are reminded of the loss every time you go to the bathroom, sometimes for two weeks or more.
I know the pain medication needed to get through the cramps, and I know how much your back will ache.
I know that with each day, I feel a little better. Maybe I can talk about this with other women. Why don't we talk about this?
I know how many people face miscarriage. It's so common, yet so silent. Because it hurts.
I know how people don't know what to say--and I don't know what to say to myself. "At least it was early." It was still my baby. "It happened for a reason." What was wrong with my baby? "It means something abnormal was happening, and the baby wasn't forming properly." Will this happen to my next child? How do I know it will be okay?
I know how, even though it's over, it will never be forgotten. I will always stop on May 31 to think of the "what-ifs." I will probably think about this every day of my life. But you didn't even know the sex yet, they might think. They will never understand.
I know the fear of moving forward. Should we try again soon? Will something go wrong again? Can we handle a baby at the beginning of the school year? If we don't try again, what if it takes a long time to conceive?
What if my heart gets broken again?
This happens to many women. Some face infertility. Some face multiple miscarriages. Some face ectopic pregnancies. Some face stillbirths. They are all losses. These women are strong. They go back to face work, friends, and family.
A friend put it perfectly: "Everything has changed, yet nothing has changed."
Why don't we talk about miscarriage more? Why is there a stigma around it? I've thought about this a lot in the past week. I'm a very open, honest person. Yet, for days, I was silent. I couldn't face it. I couldn't say it out loud.
I'm heartbroken and okay, all at the same time. I have physical symptoms, yet I'm feeling better. It's almost like I was letting other people down when I tried to talk about it. When I hear myself say, "We lost the baby," I have mixed reactions. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I quickly respond with, "Yeah, it's okay, though," to take the attention away. I'm okay, and I'm not okay.
Maybe this is how every woman feels, which is why we don't talk about it. How do you express such a poignant situation?
If only we could find the women who have suffered. If only women, once they move forward, would talk about it more. Maybe schools should even talk about it more.
I knew nothing about miscarriage until it happened, and although nothing can prepare you, we can definitely do a better job of starting the conversation.
For now, I'll take a deep breath each morning and get out of bed. I'll hug my sweet toddler and ask about Thor's cape or his Minion named Dave. I'll take him to the sitter's, hug him deeply, and drive to work. I'll face my students with a smile, eyes more tired than usual, and teach them the importance of grammar and expressive writing.
Maybe writing will heal them, as it heals me, when they go through something just as difficult. Then, maybe they'll be able to talk about it, and if they can't stand to hear it out loud, at least they'll write.
When I used to hear that someone had a miscarriage, I always felt terrible for them, but I didn't know.
Maybe they were stressed out.
Maybe they had a drink or three when they conceived and didn't realize.
I didn't know that these happen to 1 in 4 pregnancies, 25%, and there is usually absolutely no reason. The baby is there, alive, and then it is gone.
Now that I've been through it, here's what I know:
I know the fear of not knowing whether or not you will lose your baby.
I know the internal shame--as if it is your fault--as you try to think back to when it could have gone wrong.
I know the desire to tell friends in person, but the only way it was possible was through words. I can't face this reality out loud. I can't hear this.
I know the naive hope that somehow it is all a mistake. Maybe my baby is still there.
I know the anger, the furious anger, toward whoever tells you the news. Who do you think you are?
I know the pregnancy symptoms you feel and then feel dissipate as your heart breaks more each day.
I know it's not a one-day deal. You are reminded of the loss every time you go to the bathroom, sometimes for two weeks or more.
I know the pain medication needed to get through the cramps, and I know how much your back will ache.
I know that with each day, I feel a little better. Maybe I can talk about this with other women. Why don't we talk about this?
I know how many people face miscarriage. It's so common, yet so silent. Because it hurts.
I know how people don't know what to say--and I don't know what to say to myself. "At least it was early." It was still my baby. "It happened for a reason." What was wrong with my baby? "It means something abnormal was happening, and the baby wasn't forming properly." Will this happen to my next child? How do I know it will be okay?
I know how, even though it's over, it will never be forgotten. I will always stop on May 31 to think of the "what-ifs." I will probably think about this every day of my life. But you didn't even know the sex yet, they might think. They will never understand.
I know the fear of moving forward. Should we try again soon? Will something go wrong again? Can we handle a baby at the beginning of the school year? If we don't try again, what if it takes a long time to conceive?
What if my heart gets broken again?
This happens to many women. Some face infertility. Some face multiple miscarriages. Some face ectopic pregnancies. Some face stillbirths. They are all losses. These women are strong. They go back to face work, friends, and family.
A friend put it perfectly: "Everything has changed, yet nothing has changed."
Why don't we talk about miscarriage more? Why is there a stigma around it? I've thought about this a lot in the past week. I'm a very open, honest person. Yet, for days, I was silent. I couldn't face it. I couldn't say it out loud.
I'm heartbroken and okay, all at the same time. I have physical symptoms, yet I'm feeling better. It's almost like I was letting other people down when I tried to talk about it. When I hear myself say, "We lost the baby," I have mixed reactions. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I quickly respond with, "Yeah, it's okay, though," to take the attention away. I'm okay, and I'm not okay.
Maybe this is how every woman feels, which is why we don't talk about it. How do you express such a poignant situation?
If only we could find the women who have suffered. If only women, once they move forward, would talk about it more. Maybe schools should even talk about it more.
I knew nothing about miscarriage until it happened, and although nothing can prepare you, we can definitely do a better job of starting the conversation.
For now, I'll take a deep breath each morning and get out of bed. I'll hug my sweet toddler and ask about Thor's cape or his Minion named Dave. I'll take him to the sitter's, hug him deeply, and drive to work. I'll face my students with a smile, eyes more tired than usual, and teach them the importance of grammar and expressive writing.
Maybe writing will heal them, as it heals me, when they go through something just as difficult. Then, maybe they'll be able to talk about it, and if they can't stand to hear it out loud, at least they'll write.
Thursday, August 11, 2016
Relationships
I am overwhelmingly happy with the people I have met in my 29th year. At one point in my twenties, I feared getting older, concerned about how hard it is to make friends. It seems as though everything has fallen into place now, and I'm thankful.
Before I mention all of the new people in my life, I should mention the comfort and love in my long-term and life-long friends. My friendships have remained steady and strong, and we pick back up where we left off with each visit. Beautiful! They are my rocks, and even though I see them the least, they are the people I miss most and love most. These friendships will be for life, and I say that confidently and joyously. I love them so much.
When I got a new job, I didn't expect to meet people I would grow so close to, but with weekly coffee and shoulders to lean on, I have made new friends of all ages at work. These women, specifically, have been such good influences on me and such great supports. We may not be very similar people, but we are deep, intellectual people who enjoy spending time together and holding each other up.
We started going to a new church in November, and the love poured all around us--I could feel it the first day we were there! We are surrounded by young couples, toddlers, babies, and all other ages. We've made friends with so many of these incredible people, and I find myself loving them as--extended family--for lack of words. I care for all of them. We're in the family of Christ together.
I joined a women's Bible study right away (something I've never done), and the women were so welcoming. Each week of the winter, I looked forward to seeing these women whom I didn't even know--it just felt like I was supposed to be there. Over time, I've been able to get to know a couple of the women more, and they have become wonderful friends.
After attending the church for about seven months, I joined the worship team, and these people have also felt like family. They are made up of inside jokes and melodious song, which is a perfect combination. They have allowed me to be a part of their team, and they appreciate what I bring to the table. It has been such a blessing to be with them each week.
I wonder if this is just a very ripe season of my life, and it could possibly fade, but I'm going to hold it closely with hope to build stronger relationships. My childhood was filled with friends who moved, so I always wonder if that will be continuous, but something about these new friendships and acquaintances seems more solid. Maybe I can count on this. Maybe I can expect it to stay the same. If I keep the positive outlook, instead of the glass half empty, the love can only grow.
I never used to be very religious, but this year has shown me God's grace. I was falling apart last year--falling to pieces of broken me, and it was hard to see a way out. God has gifted me with cherished friends, a loving church, and an enjoyable job. It's amazing what one year can do.
Before I mention all of the new people in my life, I should mention the comfort and love in my long-term and life-long friends. My friendships have remained steady and strong, and we pick back up where we left off with each visit. Beautiful! They are my rocks, and even though I see them the least, they are the people I miss most and love most. These friendships will be for life, and I say that confidently and joyously. I love them so much.
When I got a new job, I didn't expect to meet people I would grow so close to, but with weekly coffee and shoulders to lean on, I have made new friends of all ages at work. These women, specifically, have been such good influences on me and such great supports. We may not be very similar people, but we are deep, intellectual people who enjoy spending time together and holding each other up.
We started going to a new church in November, and the love poured all around us--I could feel it the first day we were there! We are surrounded by young couples, toddlers, babies, and all other ages. We've made friends with so many of these incredible people, and I find myself loving them as--extended family--for lack of words. I care for all of them. We're in the family of Christ together.
I joined a women's Bible study right away (something I've never done), and the women were so welcoming. Each week of the winter, I looked forward to seeing these women whom I didn't even know--it just felt like I was supposed to be there. Over time, I've been able to get to know a couple of the women more, and they have become wonderful friends.
After attending the church for about seven months, I joined the worship team, and these people have also felt like family. They are made up of inside jokes and melodious song, which is a perfect combination. They have allowed me to be a part of their team, and they appreciate what I bring to the table. It has been such a blessing to be with them each week.
I wonder if this is just a very ripe season of my life, and it could possibly fade, but I'm going to hold it closely with hope to build stronger relationships. My childhood was filled with friends who moved, so I always wonder if that will be continuous, but something about these new friendships and acquaintances seems more solid. Maybe I can count on this. Maybe I can expect it to stay the same. If I keep the positive outlook, instead of the glass half empty, the love can only grow.
I never used to be very religious, but this year has shown me God's grace. I was falling apart last year--falling to pieces of broken me, and it was hard to see a way out. God has gifted me with cherished friends, a loving church, and an enjoyable job. It's amazing what one year can do.
Tuesday, June 21, 2016
Summer 2016 thus far
I've been meaning to write for a while, but I always get distracted or busied by something. I even sat down to write tonight, but my mind slowly wandered into the depths of the internet, reading about a pastor in Texas who wishes death on the remaining Orlando victims, along with the police 911 call from the shooter himself. I also wandered to look at lists and lists of daycares in the area, wondering if that is what we should do for Charlie--and, if so, at 2.5 or at 3?
----
So, here I am, and I have lost my motivation, but I'm still wanting to write. This will be a mix of things that have been on my mind.
----
Earlier this evening, we had a terrible storm. Anyone who knows me well understands how much I hate thunderstorms and, more specifically, tornadoes. It's a fear I've had since birth (I would assume), and it has only slightly calmed down as I've gotten older. Although I think I was afraid of storms from early on, a few things didn't help.
I remember being with a teenage babysitter, staring out of my bedroom window at the fire. The house behind us had caught lightning during a bad storm, and everyone was running out.
Another memory is seeing a huge flash of light while running to my room to grab my basket (I had a basket that I'd grab when it stormed), only to find out later that lightning had struck the tree two feet from my bedroom window.
I also recall one of our pine trees falling, which had a crisp, loud crack, also due to lightning.
There have been other moments like these, which never helped my situation, but I won't waste your time.
Well, this evening, the storm rolled through, and it was bad. I mean, it was nasty! When the wind was whistling and the lightning was getting closer and more frequent, I asked J to go to the basement until it passed. We have a bunch of toys down there to keep C busy.
Five minutes later, it was gone, but as soon as we got down there, there was a loud snap of thunder, along with a crack of lightning.
When we came upstairs, I casually checked the front view for the clouds, and to my left I saw a fire blazing with black smoke. The house up the road had been struck by lightning and was on fire. Thankfully, it was a brand new house, just finished, and no one had moved in yet. Everyone was safe. It ruined about 1/3 of the house, and I'm sure water damage will make that worse.
So that was an experience. At least I met a bunch of neighbors. (Side note: my new neighbor is Bob. Our old neighbor was Bob. We met Bob #1 the day of Bob's funeral (my grandpa). It's just a fun coincidence, but I love it.)
----
In other news....PARENTING. It's weird, man. It's so amazing and fun, yet so hard. Charlie was overwhelming me two weeks ago, and I felt negative. Now he's asking for cuddles for the first time ever, and he's been my buddy. He is slowly getting out of the "Go away, mommy!" stage, allowing me to love on him again. He is laughing more, but the laughter sounds just like when he was an infant. He's climbing more, which is scary. He tries to tickle me all the time, and it works. He is doing GREAT with potty training, and he loves his stickers. He is so cute and manipulative all at the same time. Mommy said no? Where's daddy? I'll go get his approval without mommy knowing. He loves "diggers" and "big trucks." He knows all of the names of dinosuars in his "Bones" book. He loves singing our made-up songs...J has created one for the Bones book, and I made a poopy song the other day (we get desperate, k?). It's just been a beautiful age. He learns every day, and I watch his mind spinning to figure things out.
WE SUCCESSFULLY GOT RID OF HIS PRECIOUS BINKY BY DAY THREE OF TRYING. He cried thirty minutes each night until night three! Amazing!! Who knew it would be so easy? I was dreading it.
----
With that said, we are thinking about baby names again for a #2. No, we're not pregnant, but I'm considering the idea for coming years. I feel nervous about it because I know how hard parenting can be, but I also feel relaxed about it because I know what to expect. Weird. I hate the idea of losing even more sleep and having not one, but two sick kids in the house. But I also love the idea of a sibling for C and a new, sweet baby for us.
When the time comes, I can't wait to not care about people's judgments anymore and do my own thing. For instance, if I try to breast feed, and I hardly make any milk because of some nipple thing, and I have to use a nipple shield, and then I go to work and pump three times per day only to bring home 1/6 of a bottle.......I am going to just use formula earlier on. I'll mix it earlier on. I breastfed for six months with C, which was my goal, but he needed more than what I could provide. I feel like I held on for that last month or two because of it being "the right" thing to do. Luckily, formula is actually packed with great baby things, and C has thrived. I'm sure baby two will, too.
We have quite a few neat names in mind so far, and I'm going to jot them down so we don't forget. I know I have other lists, but this is the most recent:
boys: Connor, Benjamin, Luca, Finn, Riley, Emerson, Cole
girls: Chloe, Arianna, Emma, Clara, Nora, Lila, Vivian
It's a big deal to name a child, so I like to think about it for a looonngggg time.
----
J and I went on a trip by ourselves for the first time since having C! It was amazing. We reconnected after basically becoming a team of teacher parents working non-stop. We were able to have full conversations without getting interrupted, and we were hanging out while fully awake (our hang-out time at home is after 7:30ish, and we usually need some alone time and get tired pretty quickly). We stayed with an Airbnb family, which was awesome, so we got to use their kayak for free, along with anything else we wanted. The room was amazing, and it had an attached sitting room with a fridge. We had a private bathroom, too! It was just amazing--all for $65/night! We picked one night to go to our favorite seafood restaurant, and the other meals were mostly grabbed at the market nearby. The last night there was GORGEOUS because we spent it on an empty beach with the moon in the sky. Awesome. We will HAVE to get away for two nights--or even one--again next year.
----
Lastly, this summer is my Summer of Being Social. I am blessed to know a variety of people at this time in my life, and I love having breakfast hang outs, coffee dates, and park hours with all of them. I'm becoming more active in our church, and the people I get to sing with each week are so great. It's just been a great time for friendships--even though it's also a really difficult time to make friends and actually socialize (toddlers make that hard). Since I have the "free" summer, I've been using it wisely, building some relationships that I can count on. I'm so fortunate to have met so many great people all at once, and I hope to continue those friendships for a long time. Hopefully everyone won't move like they always used to at my old church over the years!
----
I bought a journaling Bible, and I'm excited to use it. I'm NOT going to paint on the pages or color all over it so I can't read it anymore, but I'm going to just use the space to jot notes or verses from the page that hit home. I'll let you know how I like it.
----
sending love xo
----
So, here I am, and I have lost my motivation, but I'm still wanting to write. This will be a mix of things that have been on my mind.
----
Earlier this evening, we had a terrible storm. Anyone who knows me well understands how much I hate thunderstorms and, more specifically, tornadoes. It's a fear I've had since birth (I would assume), and it has only slightly calmed down as I've gotten older. Although I think I was afraid of storms from early on, a few things didn't help.
I remember being with a teenage babysitter, staring out of my bedroom window at the fire. The house behind us had caught lightning during a bad storm, and everyone was running out.
Another memory is seeing a huge flash of light while running to my room to grab my basket (I had a basket that I'd grab when it stormed), only to find out later that lightning had struck the tree two feet from my bedroom window.
I also recall one of our pine trees falling, which had a crisp, loud crack, also due to lightning.
There have been other moments like these, which never helped my situation, but I won't waste your time.
Well, this evening, the storm rolled through, and it was bad. I mean, it was nasty! When the wind was whistling and the lightning was getting closer and more frequent, I asked J to go to the basement until it passed. We have a bunch of toys down there to keep C busy.
Five minutes later, it was gone, but as soon as we got down there, there was a loud snap of thunder, along with a crack of lightning.
When we came upstairs, I casually checked the front view for the clouds, and to my left I saw a fire blazing with black smoke. The house up the road had been struck by lightning and was on fire. Thankfully, it was a brand new house, just finished, and no one had moved in yet. Everyone was safe. It ruined about 1/3 of the house, and I'm sure water damage will make that worse.
So that was an experience. At least I met a bunch of neighbors. (Side note: my new neighbor is Bob. Our old neighbor was Bob. We met Bob #1 the day of Bob's funeral (my grandpa). It's just a fun coincidence, but I love it.)
----
In other news....PARENTING. It's weird, man. It's so amazing and fun, yet so hard. Charlie was overwhelming me two weeks ago, and I felt negative. Now he's asking for cuddles for the first time ever, and he's been my buddy. He is slowly getting out of the "Go away, mommy!" stage, allowing me to love on him again. He is laughing more, but the laughter sounds just like when he was an infant. He's climbing more, which is scary. He tries to tickle me all the time, and it works. He is doing GREAT with potty training, and he loves his stickers. He is so cute and manipulative all at the same time. Mommy said no? Where's daddy? I'll go get his approval without mommy knowing. He loves "diggers" and "big trucks." He knows all of the names of dinosuars in his "Bones" book. He loves singing our made-up songs...J has created one for the Bones book, and I made a poopy song the other day (we get desperate, k?). It's just been a beautiful age. He learns every day, and I watch his mind spinning to figure things out.
WE SUCCESSFULLY GOT RID OF HIS PRECIOUS BINKY BY DAY THREE OF TRYING. He cried thirty minutes each night until night three! Amazing!! Who knew it would be so easy? I was dreading it.
----
With that said, we are thinking about baby names again for a #2. No, we're not pregnant, but I'm considering the idea for coming years. I feel nervous about it because I know how hard parenting can be, but I also feel relaxed about it because I know what to expect. Weird. I hate the idea of losing even more sleep and having not one, but two sick kids in the house. But I also love the idea of a sibling for C and a new, sweet baby for us.
When the time comes, I can't wait to not care about people's judgments anymore and do my own thing. For instance, if I try to breast feed, and I hardly make any milk because of some nipple thing, and I have to use a nipple shield, and then I go to work and pump three times per day only to bring home 1/6 of a bottle.......I am going to just use formula earlier on. I'll mix it earlier on. I breastfed for six months with C, which was my goal, but he needed more than what I could provide. I feel like I held on for that last month or two because of it being "the right" thing to do. Luckily, formula is actually packed with great baby things, and C has thrived. I'm sure baby two will, too.
We have quite a few neat names in mind so far, and I'm going to jot them down so we don't forget. I know I have other lists, but this is the most recent:
boys: Connor, Benjamin, Luca, Finn, Riley, Emerson, Cole
girls: Chloe, Arianna, Emma, Clara, Nora, Lila, Vivian
It's a big deal to name a child, so I like to think about it for a looonngggg time.
----
J and I went on a trip by ourselves for the first time since having C! It was amazing. We reconnected after basically becoming a team of teacher parents working non-stop. We were able to have full conversations without getting interrupted, and we were hanging out while fully awake (our hang-out time at home is after 7:30ish, and we usually need some alone time and get tired pretty quickly). We stayed with an Airbnb family, which was awesome, so we got to use their kayak for free, along with anything else we wanted. The room was amazing, and it had an attached sitting room with a fridge. We had a private bathroom, too! It was just amazing--all for $65/night! We picked one night to go to our favorite seafood restaurant, and the other meals were mostly grabbed at the market nearby. The last night there was GORGEOUS because we spent it on an empty beach with the moon in the sky. Awesome. We will HAVE to get away for two nights--or even one--again next year.
----
Lastly, this summer is my Summer of Being Social. I am blessed to know a variety of people at this time in my life, and I love having breakfast hang outs, coffee dates, and park hours with all of them. I'm becoming more active in our church, and the people I get to sing with each week are so great. It's just been a great time for friendships--even though it's also a really difficult time to make friends and actually socialize (toddlers make that hard). Since I have the "free" summer, I've been using it wisely, building some relationships that I can count on. I'm so fortunate to have met so many great people all at once, and I hope to continue those friendships for a long time. Hopefully everyone won't move like they always used to at my old church over the years!
----
I bought a journaling Bible, and I'm excited to use it. I'm NOT going to paint on the pages or color all over it so I can't read it anymore, but I'm going to just use the space to jot notes or verses from the page that hit home. I'll let you know how I like it.
----
sending love xo
Wednesday, June 1, 2016
Toddler Woes
Today, Charlie got very upset because...
I broke his granola bar in half, like I always do, but this time
HE WANTED IT TO GO BACK TOGETHER TO FORM A FULL GRANOLA BAR AGAIN, and, well, granola bars can't get put back together, so he had a melt down.
Sorry, kid. Life is hard.
I broke his granola bar in half, like I always do, but this time
HE WANTED IT TO GO BACK TOGETHER TO FORM A FULL GRANOLA BAR AGAIN, and, well, granola bars can't get put back together, so he had a melt down.
Sorry, kid. Life is hard.
Year One at New Job = COMPLETE
In July of last year, I was insanely nervous to start my new job. In August, I had decided it was the worst decision I had ever made, and I was very bitter and sad. By early October, we had a very scary threat at the school, and I felt scared and concerned. By late October, I could tell the school was a true family. We helped each other out and got through a terrifying situation. By November, the students had gotten to know me, and I knew them. We had been through a lot together, and we were out of the let's-try-to-get-her-to-quit-cause-she's-new-and-innocent phase. They knew I wasn't going anywhere, By December, I was sad to see them go--but excited for the new group. By February, I was absolutely in love with my second semester kids, and my full-year kids and I finally understood each other. By April, I was wondering why the year was going so quickly. By May, I was laughing every single day and wondering how I would get through the summer without "my kids."
It's my first official day of summer. I am currently lounging on the couch with a bowl of ice cream while my toddler sleeps and my husband plays a video game. I spent my morning outside watering plants, taking a family walk in the field, and playing with my son.
Since the move, we have said goodbye to some, but met so many more. I have a caring, strong English department to work with. Our new church is becoming our second family, and I joined a Bible study for the first time in my life. Our home is in a great location, and we live close to many of the people we are getting to know.
Overall, this year was awesome (well, let's say by the second half...). The school year is over, but I'm so ready for next year. It was not a good start, but it was a fantastic ending. Now I can relax knowing I'm right where I need to be.
Wednesday, May 18, 2016
Two
There are moments, in the middle of a soft hug, or after he sits next to me on the couch, that I feel absolutely compelled to have at least three more children.
Then there are moments, in the middle of the night, or on a Friday afternoon, when he suddenly gets really sick or throws a tantrum, that I feel like I am not meant for any more kids.
Having a toddler in the house is kind of like teaching...we have to always have patience, be ready for the unexpected, and know how to discipline for the given situation. However, having a toddler is a little more extreme. For instance, C can get mad over the most ridiculous things. He might want to open the door to the house, and if either of us touch that door handle, he flips. "Charwey do it!" On the other hand, he can be the sweetest, most thoughtful little human being. When he sees my glasses have fallen on the floor, and they are in his path, he stops whatever he's doing to bring them to me safely. When he notices trash on the floor, he picks it up, makes sure I approve, and throws it away.
Back and forth we go--every day, every hour, sometimes every few minutes.
It's a juxtaposition of emotions, but it's definitely worth it.
Monday, April 18, 2016
Reflection
I used to think elementary school was so hard. "What if that boy doesn't chase me today at recess?" I thought. Or, "I hope I can pass the mad-minute faster than last time!"
I used to think middle school was so difficult. "MOM! You can't kick me off AOL IM! They will think I'm mad at them!" I exclaimed. "I need to wear American Eagle, like everyone else," I thought.
I used to think high school would never end. "I don't know what I want to do in college," I worried. "I have to work from 4:30 p.m. to 6:00 p.m. AGAIN, so I can't go," I sadly told friends.
I used to think college was weird. "Let's go on a three-mile run at midnight!" was a completely normal idea with follow through. "I have to stay up all night to finish this paper," I told friends, waiting for reply.
I used to think finding a job was the end of my little world. "What if I don't find a teaching job before this school year? How will we pay our thousands of student loans!?"
I used to think my first year of teaching was the worst thing to happen in my entire life. "I don't know if I can do this every day of my life," I would tell my teacher-husband. "How can we do this without burning out? How can we have a family with this type of job?"
I used to think buying a house was something for my 30s. "I don't even know where to start with that process," I told Justin. "But I need to know we have a private home before we have kids."
I used to think having a baby would be hard. "Can we afford having a kid?" I questioned. "Are we ready to give up our freedom?"
If there's one thing I could go back and do, I would tell myself to stop worrying so damn much. There were so many times I heard, "Enjoy your high school and college life. It all goes downhill from there." When I looked at my current situations, and they were difficult, I was overwhelmed with the unknown difficulty of the future.
I've learned, at almost thirty, to stop and enjoy things a little more. And get this: I am a teacher with a house and a kid. Instead of rushing around to find enjoyment, I can sit in a field, look at a cow feeding her calf, and feel complete peace--at least for a few minutes.
As I watch my son get closer and closer to turning two, and as I realize I only get older as he does, I have been reflecting. Life is exasperating at times, but also intensely rich with beauty. Childhood and adulthood has it's low moments, but there will always be the positives.
As a child, I kept playing laser tag with my brother, dreaming with my imagination, and riding bikes to the river for shells. In middle school, I made friends and discovered who I was--and who I didn't want to be. In high school, I laughed so much my cheeks hurt at lunch every day. I escaped for coffee or 7-11 late at night with friends, listening to our mixtapes, and I made trips to Barnes and Noble with love and no money. At college, I ran top speed to catch the bus for groceries, or to get to class on time, letting my face get flushed before walking in. I was daring and forced myself to talk to a girl on the bus, and this girl became one of my closest friends. As a first-year teacher, I couldn't contain the love I had for my students, I laughed every day, and I learned a ton of British literature in a very short amount of time. When we bought our first home, it was our little house in the woods, and I will never forget the oak trees that sheltered us from the wind and sun. At our second home, we are on an open field with a farm, and it is more beautiful than I can even explain. My current job was difficult at first, but it is now one of the most rewarding and fun places I've ever worked.
Yes, life did get harder as an adult. However, I have also matured to realize that without the darkest times, the others wouldn't shine so brightly. I have lost friends and family dear to me, but once the initial pain heals, I still feel like they're watching over me. I have had very difficult situations at work, but time heals, and kids learn who I am. I've learned how dark and scary it is when the whole family is sick in the middle of winter, but once we're better, I look back and laugh. I have wondered how we can afford things on our salaries with our student loans, but it all seems to work itself out. I have had moments where I've fallen back to the anxiety I faced as a shy little girl, but I overcome it by getting up the next morning to face the new day.
High school and college definitely weren't the best times of my life, like many try to say.
Tonight, for instance, was fascinating. Before writing this, I walked inside after reading on my front porch and taking a walk when the moon came out. My husband was watering the new grass, and I was simply walking. I was breathing and walking and looking at the moon. A smile was stuck on my face while I was completely alone, watching the sky form, and listening to the birds. I was looking across the field at the other houses, thinking about how they remind me of lights in Canada on the other side of The River. I was thinking of my grandma, and how I would share the poetic beauty of this with her. I was looking at C's dark window, knowing he was sweetly cuddling his dinosaur, bunny, and the blanket mom made for me when I was a baby. I was breathing, I was looking, and I was happy.
In those moments of walking, I knew, deep down, I was the happiest I'd been in a long time. Even though the world pushes against my elation with terrorism, hardships, sickness, and depression, I am very happy. I love my home, I love my job, and I love my family. I would not choose go back to high school or college, but I look back with nostalgia. Some of my happiest moments in my teens were spent watching the stars from a field, boating in front of a full moon, and exploring the outdoors. Now, I'm almost thirty, and I can still do all of those things, even if I have to get ready for work the next day, and pack lunches the next morning.
I used to think middle school was so difficult. "MOM! You can't kick me off AOL IM! They will think I'm mad at them!" I exclaimed. "I need to wear American Eagle, like everyone else," I thought.
I used to think high school would never end. "I don't know what I want to do in college," I worried. "I have to work from 4:30 p.m. to 6:00 p.m. AGAIN, so I can't go," I sadly told friends.
I used to think college was weird. "Let's go on a three-mile run at midnight!" was a completely normal idea with follow through. "I have to stay up all night to finish this paper," I told friends, waiting for reply.
I used to think finding a job was the end of my little world. "What if I don't find a teaching job before this school year? How will we pay our thousands of student loans!?"
I used to think my first year of teaching was the worst thing to happen in my entire life. "I don't know if I can do this every day of my life," I would tell my teacher-husband. "How can we do this without burning out? How can we have a family with this type of job?"
I used to think buying a house was something for my 30s. "I don't even know where to start with that process," I told Justin. "But I need to know we have a private home before we have kids."
I used to think having a baby would be hard. "Can we afford having a kid?" I questioned. "Are we ready to give up our freedom?"
- - - - - - - - - -
If there's one thing I could go back and do, I would tell myself to stop worrying so damn much. There were so many times I heard, "Enjoy your high school and college life. It all goes downhill from there." When I looked at my current situations, and they were difficult, I was overwhelmed with the unknown difficulty of the future.
I've learned, at almost thirty, to stop and enjoy things a little more. And get this: I am a teacher with a house and a kid. Instead of rushing around to find enjoyment, I can sit in a field, look at a cow feeding her calf, and feel complete peace--at least for a few minutes.
As I watch my son get closer and closer to turning two, and as I realize I only get older as he does, I have been reflecting. Life is exasperating at times, but also intensely rich with beauty. Childhood and adulthood has it's low moments, but there will always be the positives.
As a child, I kept playing laser tag with my brother, dreaming with my imagination, and riding bikes to the river for shells. In middle school, I made friends and discovered who I was--and who I didn't want to be. In high school, I laughed so much my cheeks hurt at lunch every day. I escaped for coffee or 7-11 late at night with friends, listening to our mixtapes, and I made trips to Barnes and Noble with love and no money. At college, I ran top speed to catch the bus for groceries, or to get to class on time, letting my face get flushed before walking in. I was daring and forced myself to talk to a girl on the bus, and this girl became one of my closest friends. As a first-year teacher, I couldn't contain the love I had for my students, I laughed every day, and I learned a ton of British literature in a very short amount of time. When we bought our first home, it was our little house in the woods, and I will never forget the oak trees that sheltered us from the wind and sun. At our second home, we are on an open field with a farm, and it is more beautiful than I can even explain. My current job was difficult at first, but it is now one of the most rewarding and fun places I've ever worked.
Yes, life did get harder as an adult. However, I have also matured to realize that without the darkest times, the others wouldn't shine so brightly. I have lost friends and family dear to me, but once the initial pain heals, I still feel like they're watching over me. I have had very difficult situations at work, but time heals, and kids learn who I am. I've learned how dark and scary it is when the whole family is sick in the middle of winter, but once we're better, I look back and laugh. I have wondered how we can afford things on our salaries with our student loans, but it all seems to work itself out. I have had moments where I've fallen back to the anxiety I faced as a shy little girl, but I overcome it by getting up the next morning to face the new day.
High school and college definitely weren't the best times of my life, like many try to say.
Tonight, for instance, was fascinating. Before writing this, I walked inside after reading on my front porch and taking a walk when the moon came out. My husband was watering the new grass, and I was simply walking. I was breathing and walking and looking at the moon. A smile was stuck on my face while I was completely alone, watching the sky form, and listening to the birds. I was looking across the field at the other houses, thinking about how they remind me of lights in Canada on the other side of The River. I was thinking of my grandma, and how I would share the poetic beauty of this with her. I was looking at C's dark window, knowing he was sweetly cuddling his dinosaur, bunny, and the blanket mom made for me when I was a baby. I was breathing, I was looking, and I was happy.
In those moments of walking, I knew, deep down, I was the happiest I'd been in a long time. Even though the world pushes against my elation with terrorism, hardships, sickness, and depression, I am very happy. I love my home, I love my job, and I love my family. I would not choose go back to high school or college, but I look back with nostalgia. Some of my happiest moments in my teens were spent watching the stars from a field, boating in front of a full moon, and exploring the outdoors. Now, I'm almost thirty, and I can still do all of those things, even if I have to get ready for work the next day, and pack lunches the next morning.
Kids Say the Darndest Things ;)
Student: What did you do this weekend?
Me: Well, I mowed the lawn! That was fun.
Student: I can't picture you outside.
Me: What? Really?
Student: I picture you in an air-conditioned library, reading for hours.
Me: While in reality, sure, I could be reading, but it would be sprawled out in an open field!
Me: Well, I mowed the lawn! That was fun.
Student: I can't picture you outside.
Me: What? Really?
Student: I picture you in an air-conditioned library, reading for hours.
Me: While in reality, sure, I could be reading, but it would be sprawled out in an open field!
Friday, April 15, 2016
"You got a 600!"
I've had some fun student comments this year, but today I had a couple of favorites:
"I swear she's a ninja."
"She is, bro."
Lastly, I had a student get a 600 on her writing SOL, so I went to find her. When I pulled her out of class, here's how our conversation went:
"Guess what score you got on the SOL?"
"A 600?"
"Wait...who told you!?"
"What? I did!?
"Yes! How did you know?"
"I was just being sarcastic!"
"Yes, you got a 600! Isn't that awesome!?"
"Thank you, Mrs. T! You inspire me! Why don't you teach dual enrollment?"
"I swear she's a ninja."
"She is, bro."
Lastly, I had a student get a 600 on her writing SOL, so I went to find her. When I pulled her out of class, here's how our conversation went:
"Guess what score you got on the SOL?"
"A 600?"
"Wait...who told you!?"
"What? I did!?
"Yes! How did you know?"
"I was just being sarcastic!"
"Yes, you got a 600! Isn't that awesome!?"
"Thank you, Mrs. T! You inspire me! Why don't you teach dual enrollment?"
Monday, April 11, 2016
Teacher-Momdom
I've been a teacher for five and a half years and a mom for two. I am also married to a teacher. I don't know much, but I know more than I did, and I will keep learning. I used to think that teaching was the hardest thing in the world, and the most rewarding, but then I had Charlie. Being a teacher-mom has been the most challenging, heart-breaking, emotional job. Yet, I am the happiest I've been in a long time. What's going on?
Being a parent has complicated my teaching habits of grading after school, getting to school early, and having dinner out with friends every few days. Being a parent has also made it harder to be a teacher in the classroom. I am less organized than before, I don't get grades done as quickly, and I rarely have time to socialize.
With that said, I also know I'm a better teacher now that I've had my own child.
I no longer sit around gasping endlessly about my seemingly bad day or stressful encounter at the copier. I no longer enjoy hearing gossip and negative commentary. I no longer put down my own job. I no longer think I'm the boss. I no longer have a warped perspective. I no longer expect parents to make their kids spend their entire night doing homework. I no longer think my class is the most important part of their day. I no longer need to prove myself. I no longer think teaching is the highest priority in my life. I no longer have expectations for myself I know I can't keep. I no longer let one person ruin my entire day.
I now feel thankful for my job to help pay for the car and house and everything else that comes with being an adult. I now try to smile and be a little more positive throughout the day. I now realize that putting my job down makes my job suck. I now know that my pride should not be on a pedestal. I now have a broadened viewpoint. I now imagine C when he's older, and I want there to be family time instead of homework. I now remember that students have three other classes. I now realize I don't have to be perfect or prove anything to the kids. I now know family comes first. I now say no when I need to. I now let things go.
Parenting is hard. It's much harder than teaching, but doing both at the same time is a huge challenge. When the whole family had the stomach bug in the fall, I thought I would never make it. When C had croup and we had an ambulance ride on a Friday night, I panicked and thought things would never get better. When C is sick and I have to take yet another sick day, I fear for my job and my reputation. When we lose hours of sleep as a family, I dread hearing the alarm the next day.
Yes, the parent-teacher job is hard. That doesn't mean it has to be a negative, terrible, woe-is-me career...
It's actually beautiful. It's beautiful in so many ways.
When I make the long drive to the sitter's house to drop of my son, I know that he'll be proud of me one day for what I do. When I see him smiling and excited to get dropped off, I know I've made a decision that won't hurt him. When I'm at school, surrounded by many broken, fun, quirky teenagers, I am reminded that they have parents who need me to do the best I can. I need to give them encouragement and confidence to pass a test, while also being the "mom" or "mother goose" or "aunt" they need while at school. When I look across the room at the fidgeting, the sleepy eyes, or the hyperactivity, I see my toddler. I see who these kids once were when they were little, and how the world has changed them--yet somehow many seem innocent. I see my toddler as a teenager one day. I see myself in them, when I was fifteen years younger, enjoying high school for everything but the academics, wishing for a teacher who could give me a story to bring home. When I leave school, I get to go to my son and spend a few short hours with him before bed. These hours are precious, and they are the best part of my day. The entire time I'm awake, though, I think about my students.
Being a teacher-mom is a challenge, but it's definitely one worth taking. I will never stop learning, and I'd never stop loving.
Being a parent has complicated my teaching habits of grading after school, getting to school early, and having dinner out with friends every few days. Being a parent has also made it harder to be a teacher in the classroom. I am less organized than before, I don't get grades done as quickly, and I rarely have time to socialize.
With that said, I also know I'm a better teacher now that I've had my own child.
I no longer sit around gasping endlessly about my seemingly bad day or stressful encounter at the copier. I no longer enjoy hearing gossip and negative commentary. I no longer put down my own job. I no longer think I'm the boss. I no longer have a warped perspective. I no longer expect parents to make their kids spend their entire night doing homework. I no longer think my class is the most important part of their day. I no longer need to prove myself. I no longer think teaching is the highest priority in my life. I no longer have expectations for myself I know I can't keep. I no longer let one person ruin my entire day.
I now feel thankful for my job to help pay for the car and house and everything else that comes with being an adult. I now try to smile and be a little more positive throughout the day. I now realize that putting my job down makes my job suck. I now know that my pride should not be on a pedestal. I now have a broadened viewpoint. I now imagine C when he's older, and I want there to be family time instead of homework. I now remember that students have three other classes. I now realize I don't have to be perfect or prove anything to the kids. I now know family comes first. I now say no when I need to. I now let things go.
Parenting is hard. It's much harder than teaching, but doing both at the same time is a huge challenge. When the whole family had the stomach bug in the fall, I thought I would never make it. When C had croup and we had an ambulance ride on a Friday night, I panicked and thought things would never get better. When C is sick and I have to take yet another sick day, I fear for my job and my reputation. When we lose hours of sleep as a family, I dread hearing the alarm the next day.
Yes, the parent-teacher job is hard. That doesn't mean it has to be a negative, terrible, woe-is-me career...
It's actually beautiful. It's beautiful in so many ways.
When I make the long drive to the sitter's house to drop of my son, I know that he'll be proud of me one day for what I do. When I see him smiling and excited to get dropped off, I know I've made a decision that won't hurt him. When I'm at school, surrounded by many broken, fun, quirky teenagers, I am reminded that they have parents who need me to do the best I can. I need to give them encouragement and confidence to pass a test, while also being the "mom" or "mother goose" or "aunt" they need while at school. When I look across the room at the fidgeting, the sleepy eyes, or the hyperactivity, I see my toddler. I see who these kids once were when they were little, and how the world has changed them--yet somehow many seem innocent. I see my toddler as a teenager one day. I see myself in them, when I was fifteen years younger, enjoying high school for everything but the academics, wishing for a teacher who could give me a story to bring home. When I leave school, I get to go to my son and spend a few short hours with him before bed. These hours are precious, and they are the best part of my day. The entire time I'm awake, though, I think about my students.
Being a teacher-mom is a challenge, but it's definitely one worth taking. I will never stop learning, and I'd never stop loving.
Monday, March 14, 2016
Should it be Two?
Don't fret. I'm not pregnant.
But we have been talking about the possibility of a second child. We have one boy who is about to turn two, and we are in disbelief. The past two years have flown by, though the days have been and can be very long. I'm not a fan of the newborn days, but it seems to keep getting better.
I want to be emotionally, physically, and financially ready.
Before we had Charlie, I told J I needed the security of having our own house. We lived in a town home and still didn't conceive for that reason. I wanted our own home, and I also told him we both needed steady jobs. We waited until we had all of these things, and we even worked a couple of years to make sure the jobs were set. Having Charlie after all of that made it feel right. I also felt much more at ease.
Now I feel like I have to say, "when I get in shape again..." or "when our car payment is over..." or "when we pay off some debt." The truth is, yes, these things will help, but will they ever be fully finished? Even if we pay off the car, the other might break down, and there we go again. Although we will pay off some debt, we will accrue more, via either a lawn mower, a car repair, or health-care costs.
Either way, it seems like we're stuck. Teachers don't really get "raises," sadly, so the only hope for more money is if the state and government approves a tiny increase in salary, which would basically just cover increased health costs.
So, the question remains: are we going to have another child? If so, when? Should we wait until Charlie is three? Four? Going into elementary school? If we wait, will we want to start all over with the baby stage?
I guess we'll just have to wait and see.
But we have been talking about the possibility of a second child. We have one boy who is about to turn two, and we are in disbelief. The past two years have flown by, though the days have been and can be very long. I'm not a fan of the newborn days, but it seems to keep getting better.
I want to be emotionally, physically, and financially ready.
Before we had Charlie, I told J I needed the security of having our own house. We lived in a town home and still didn't conceive for that reason. I wanted our own home, and I also told him we both needed steady jobs. We waited until we had all of these things, and we even worked a couple of years to make sure the jobs were set. Having Charlie after all of that made it feel right. I also felt much more at ease.
Now I feel like I have to say, "when I get in shape again..." or "when our car payment is over..." or "when we pay off some debt." The truth is, yes, these things will help, but will they ever be fully finished? Even if we pay off the car, the other might break down, and there we go again. Although we will pay off some debt, we will accrue more, via either a lawn mower, a car repair, or health-care costs.
Either way, it seems like we're stuck. Teachers don't really get "raises," sadly, so the only hope for more money is if the state and government approves a tiny increase in salary, which would basically just cover increased health costs.
So, the question remains: are we going to have another child? If so, when? Should we wait until Charlie is three? Four? Going into elementary school? If we wait, will we want to start all over with the baby stage?
I guess we'll just have to wait and see.
Thursday, February 18, 2016
Prone to Wander, Lord I Feel it...
I ordered a Bible yesterday.
It's been a while.
Years.
- - - - - -
My childhood consisted of attending church on Sundays, praying every night, praying before meals, and going to youth group with friends. I was even part of Awanas.
I'm not sure where it all changed.
I got sick of church. I got sick of the people. I got sick of the guilt. I got sick of the schedule. I got sick of the hypocrisy (me included). I slowly separated myself from the idea of church, but I still sang in worship team whenever possible, which was the time I was the most involved in praising God, praying, and reflecting. Thank goodness for worship team.
The time I realized I needed God again was about two years ago. I broke down crying on the way home from worship team one day while pregnant. My grandmother was very ill, and my friend and coworker was dying of pancreatic cancer. I felt so incredibly alone in the sadness and fear. I felt guilt for the depression. I needed something more than my house, my husband, and even the sweet child I was growing. I did feel comfort in Charlie most times, but I realized I needed God to hold me up. I just couldn't do it. After we had the baby, life was very busy and exhausting. It was also very beautiful--overwhelmingly so. We missed a lot of church, due to distraction and lack of energy, and I think I just slipped out of the rhythm. I kept going to worship team and singing when possible, but my world was revolving around my new baby. I knew he was a gift from God, but I was still focusing more on him than on The Giver of Life.
I've always been a Christian, and I've always been thankful in good times and even thankful for dark times. There is always something I've learned. Something happened, though, and I don't know what it was, or when it was, but it just made me think God wasn't as important as he inevitably is. It was mostly witnessing hypocrisy (which is ironic) and losing faith in the people of God, as well as my own heart.
I'm still not a huge fan of the structure of organized religion, and I am not the type to feel extreme guilt if I miss a Sunday service. I'm no conservative, I'm not one to preach, and I'm very private in my worship. I don't push religion on anyone, and I don't expect anyone to believe what I do. Although it's not a popular idea, I do respect all religions and beliefs. I wouldn't want them to push on me, so I don't push on them. I realize, though, how important it is for me to have God in my heart and people of Christ around me.
At my new job this year, I had a really rough first semester. I was talking to my colleague about it one day, and she said, without knowing me well, "I don't know if you believe in a higher being, but sometimes you just need to realize it is out of your hands. Give it to God." I didn't even know this kind friend, but I felt the compassion. I knew that she was there for me, and we were in it together. Although we're in it together, we both have to turn to God.
We are going to a new church now, which is heart-wrenching, since I left behind an incredible worship team family, but I do find that I'm having time for reflection in praise instead of being in front of people, making sure to get the harmony just right.
Last week, I heard these lyrics, from a very familiar song, but these lyrics that I have seen for years suddenly meant something dear to me:
Come thou fount of every blessing
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace
Streams of mercy never ceasing
Call for songs of loudest praise
Teach me some melodious sonnet
Sung by flaming tongues above
Praise the Mount I'm fixed upon it
Mount of Thy redeeming love
Here I raise my Ebenezer
Hither by Thy great help I come
And I hope by Thy good pleasure
Safely to arrive at home
Jesus, sought me when a stranger
Wandering from the fold of God
He, to rescue me from danger
Interposed His precious blood
Ode to grace, how great a debtor
Daily I'm constrained to be
And let Thy goodness like a fetter
Bind my wandering heart to Thee
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it
Prone to leave the God I love
Here's my heart, Lord, take and seal it
Seal it for Thy courts above
Here's my heart, Lord, take and seal it
Seal it for Thy courts above
The chorus is what really got me. I'm extremely "prone to wander," and with the new job, new house, new friends, and new situation, I realized how lonely I was and how far I had shifted off the path. I also realized how preoccupied with my own life I was--and still can and will be. I need God. I need His peace. I need His presence. I need His forgiveness and grace.
So, I ordered a Bible yesterday.
A soft, leather Bible.
It's been a while.
Years.
Monday, February 8, 2016
Croup
Charlie can have anything he wants today, as far as I'm concerned. Croup is a terrible, quick sickness, and when he was struggling to breathe Friday night (it's now Monday), we didn't know what was wrong, and we called the ambulance. He is okay now, though it will be a long few days, I'm sure. Friday started off so well, and our friends L and J came to visit, but about thirty minutes after they were gone, I heard a weird noise on the monitor. Then we heard it again...and again. I started to panic because I knew it wasn't normal, and it sounded like he was struggling to breathe. Justin went in to get him while I grabbed my phone. As J held him, Charlie was out of it from the sudden activity, but he was also not getting one normal breath. It was terrifying. After he continued to struggle, I asked J if I should call 911. At that point, we knew we would rather call than risk waiting to see what happened. The 911 operator walked me through everything. The part that really scared me was when she said to tell her if he "loses consciousness" or "loses color" so she could walk me through the steps for CPR. Holy cow.
The ambulance arrived, and I decided it was best that Justin ride with him. I knew I would be emotional, and sitting in an ambulance definitely wouldn't help. I drove in our Camry behind them while talking to D. At that point, I realized I didn't get to say goodbye, and I watched him leave my site struggling to breathe. I started almost hyperventilating (the closest thing to it in my life) and crying. It was absolutely terrifying.
At the hospital, I walked into the ER and told them I was there for my son. What's crazy is I had to wait about ten minutes while they go him in a room. I had to just stop thinking at that point and stay calm. I feel pretty proud of myself for just sitting there in such a scary situation. I finally got to see him, and they had already helped by giving him medication. They gave him steroids and a nebulizer to help him breathe. Thankfully, after just two hours or so, we were heading home. He handled the hospital really well, from what I gathered. He only got upset a few times, which was heartbreaking, but overall, he was giggling and playing with whatever creative toy we could find or make. At one point, I put something in my sunglasses case, and something inside of that, so he had to open two different things to find stuff. That lasted a good thirty minutes, thankfully. We got home after midnight, and thanks to God, he went right to sleep...and slept until 7:30 a.m., to our amazement. We were so thankful.
The ambulance arrived, and I decided it was best that Justin ride with him. I knew I would be emotional, and sitting in an ambulance definitely wouldn't help. I drove in our Camry behind them while talking to D. At that point, I realized I didn't get to say goodbye, and I watched him leave my site struggling to breathe. I started almost hyperventilating (the closest thing to it in my life) and crying. It was absolutely terrifying.
At the hospital, I walked into the ER and told them I was there for my son. What's crazy is I had to wait about ten minutes while they go him in a room. I had to just stop thinking at that point and stay calm. I feel pretty proud of myself for just sitting there in such a scary situation. I finally got to see him, and they had already helped by giving him medication. They gave him steroids and a nebulizer to help him breathe. Thankfully, after just two hours or so, we were heading home. He handled the hospital really well, from what I gathered. He only got upset a few times, which was heartbreaking, but overall, he was giggling and playing with whatever creative toy we could find or make. At one point, I put something in my sunglasses case, and something inside of that, so he had to open two different things to find stuff. That lasted a good thirty minutes, thankfully. We got home after midnight, and thanks to God, he went right to sleep...and slept until 7:30 a.m., to our amazement. We were so thankful.
This is what was eye-opening for me: the first person who walked in our home after arriving in the ambulance was a teacher I worked with in Madison. I knew she was an EMT, but I never thought about it much. Here she was, in my home, on a Friday night, after teaching high school all week. Here she was, devoting her time as a volunteer to help anyone who needed help, no matter what the circumstance.
Here I was, panicking, watching my kid struggle to breathe, and I was immediately calmed seeing her walk in.
There are a few things I take away from this:
1. EMTs are incredible, selfless people. The two others who came were kind, helpful, soothing people. They made sure I was okay to drive, and they talked us through everything.
2. Teachers who are EMTs must be special gifts sent from God, because I know I can't do a second job on a Friday night--especially one involving saving people's lives.
3. We are all in this together. We may not know our coworkers very well, but when there is someone in need, I have seen people at my job stop everything to help--in both counties. It's all about this deep, natural, inner lining called love. In this case, it was her job, but she was there to be a support. Thank you AH for being my friend in a moment of fear and panic.
4. This was a situation of croup, but there are parents bringing their young children to the hospital for much more serious reasons. When we see an ambulance, we should all stop to send some good or pray for whomever it is. We never know who is in there and why. We don't know if it's an elderly person or a newborn baby.
5. Kids are resilient. Even though it was hours past his normal bedtime (6 pm), and he was in a strange place with strange people, Charlie handled it really well. I don't say this because I'm trying to suggest he's some outstanding toddler. But I noticed that he was fine with seeing the best in what was around him. He wasn't crying and panicking. He went to bed when he could. He rode in an ambulance and didn't scream the entire way. Basically, this event isn't going to scar him for life, which is how I felt in the moment. It's amazing how much kids can get through without being dragged down
5. Kids are resilient. Even though it was hours past his normal bedtime (6 pm), and he was in a strange place with strange people, Charlie handled it really well. I don't say this because I'm trying to suggest he's some outstanding toddler. But I noticed that he was fine with seeing the best in what was around him. He wasn't crying and panicking. He went to bed when he could. He rode in an ambulance and didn't scream the entire way. Basically, this event isn't going to scar him for life, which is how I felt in the moment. It's amazing how much kids can get through without being dragged down
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