You are there

It's hard to not let myself think back 6 years ago on this night without some trepidation. The night before my second child was born just hours into the next day. The night that changed everything in my life. I wish I could run to that young woman, laboring in her home, hold her tight and say "you are going to get through what is to come, you are going to make it. Many times you will feel forsaken by God, but He never left your side."

You have searched me, LORD, and you know me.

A few months before Nolan was born we made life altering changes. I left my job, became a stay at home mom and moved away from my friends and my life in Connecticut. I felt so alone and foreign in the beautiful fields of Lancaster. I remember crying almost everyday from the exhaustion of being pregnant and feeling like a failure as Mikayla and I tried to get used to spending all day together. I was frantically putting myself into every opportunity I could find to meet friends before the baby came and felt all the more distant when friendships didn't bloom overnight. It was overwhelming. It was stifling.

You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. 

You discern my going out and my lying down; You are familiar with all my ways. 

The day my sweet baby boy was born I remember gazing out my window at a tractor plowing the field next to the hospital and feeling listless. It seemed so wrong to be feeling that way when I was holding new life and joy in my arms, my heart double the size it was the day before. Those first few weeks were a blur of sleepless nights, adjustment, small victories and a slight heaviness that seemed to have settled itself in the recesses of my chest.

Before a word is on my tongue you, LORD, know it completely. 

You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me. 

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, 

too lofty for me to attain. 

I used to get angry that postpartum depression took over after that. I used to feel robbed of my life during those years... I still do at times. The following 2 years, Nolan's birthday was a reminder of how far I hadn't gotten. That I was still depressed. That I still thought my family was better off without me. The lies were still speaking. My trust in God had faltered. A time that was supposed to be filled with joy and celebration had a dark cloud over it. For so long I wanted to yell and shake that young naïve woman..."You are about to go into hell, why did you let yourself get to this point, what are all of the things that you did wrong to deserve this fate, how could you have ever thought life was going to be good!?"

Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? 

If I go up to the heavens; you are there. If I make my bed in the depths, you are there. 

If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, 

even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.

But then a small light shone through. Nolan's third birthday approached. I was anxious that I would tailspin into weeks of darkness. Two weeks before I had miscarried our precious baby and was still grieving the loss. I didn't know what to expect. The day before Nolan's birthday came and I didn't feel the heaviness, hopelessness and despair that my depression liked to lasso me with. Instead I felt light. For the first time since his birth I was able to truly celebrate. 

If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me," even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.

Here I am now. And as I was 6 years ago, living in a new State which is widely different from the Lancaster I grew to love. Once again I am without my life and community that was created so beautifully out of the ashes. But unlike the precious young woman of that night, I am here with a renewed spirit. God took me from the nothingness I became from my suffering and helped build me into a stronger, more empathetic and wiser person. I am still broken, I still have my days of mistrust and fear, but I know that He has done a good work in me. And for that I praise Him. 

For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. 

Tomorrow while the kids yell who gets what piece of cake, argue about whose present gets opened first and sing at the top of their lungs... I am going to stop and savor the gift of the day. I am here to live another day. I am here to feel the warmth of Nolan's cheeks as I engulf my sweet boy in kisses. I am here because God saved me and He still has so much left to do in my life. To God be the glory for all the great things He has done!

Psalm 139:1-14

Dear Baby

As I recount the last 24 hours of the moments you were living inside of me I think of the joy that had my heart overflowing. The excitement of your gift of life, the secret that only a few knew of, the counting ahead of the months to come and when I would finally get to meet you, get to hold you.

The night before you were lost to me forever I spent playing in an orchestra concert. I was proud to be playing my violin, glowing from the inside out, feeling strong as a woman who could create life and create art at the same time. Chatting with fellow musicians about the day, all the while beaming from within and wanting to shout from the rooftops that I carried not only my own soul, but yours as well.

Going to sleep that night I spoke to your daddy and we talked through names that we wanted to name you. I know you were still so small, so tiny, but your presence emanated from my every thought. You were there with us… or at least I thought you were.

The next morning, we went to church and as I sang to God I thought with expectation of the coming weeks when you could begin to hear me, begin to know me. We came home and had pizza for lunch and before eating I noticed one small spot of blood… the thought that you may no longer be here crossed my mind, however I didn’t let it take over. I didn’t think that your precious life could be taken from me so suddenly. I didn’t think that God would allow for your spirit to soar ahead without me. 

As I drove the hour to get to my second orchestra concert of the weekend I tried to let peace overtake me. Tried to reason that all would be ok. I reached the auditorium, set my violin down and headed towards the bathroom. And that’s when I knew you were gone. Though I still held onto a small hope.

Rushing back into the auditorium white as a ghost I was approached by some fellow violinists. One grabbed me in her arms, held me fiercely tight like a mama bear to her cub and prayed to Jesus for you. Prayed to Jesus for me. I grabbed my violin and ran back to my car and made the trek home. My sweet baby, it was a long ride… not knowing if you were still there with me. 

The next morning was hazy. At the doctor’s office… staring at the women and their swollen bellies, the women and their newborn babies, I waited. And then I was told that you were gone. As I lay on the chair and stared at the screen that was supposed to show your life, all I saw was emptiness. And I felt empty.

I had to get blood taken three more times after that trip to the doctor’s office. Watch the numbers in my blood that shouted of your existence fade away. Diminish. It was like you were never even here… 

But. You were.

Missing you and loving your brother so much

It was that same chair that I laid on and the same screen that I stared at 3 short months later when I saw your brother wriggling around. Where I heard his sweet, strong heartbeat. Where I was able to accept that he was alive in that moment. But you were on my mind. I would never get to see you in such a way. I would never get to hear your heartbeat. I loved your brother, baby, but I missed you so so much. I didn’t want you to think we had forgotten you. That we had just decided to replace you with another. 

I can’t wait to meet you. I can’t wait to see your smile and bury my head in your hair. I can’t wait to tell you how much I have always loved you. You will never be forgotten. Your very being filled me with unspeakable joy.

You will never know what pain is, or suffering. You will never be scared or hurt. All you will know is the unbridled love and peace of our Savior. One day I will share this with you. Until then… you will always have a piece of my heart.

Summer

It's the summer. That means 3 kids, all day, all the time. A new thing for us. I'd love to write more,

but it's a miracle I have a moment to stop at all today amidst packing for our first vacation as a family of 5.

I'll just say this... these past few weeks have made me feel like I have never worked harder in my life. But in reality I have... I worked to save my life through my depression and that work started almost 4 years ago to the day. I'm not reminding myself of this to diminish the feelings I'm having now, but to bring empowerment that I am stronger then I have ever been.  Praises to God for all He has given me and gotten me through!

Going going all day long.

No time to sing my own song.

Little hands and little feet.

Guiding, teaching, keeping sweet.

Moments of pure joy and fear.

Moments of how did I get here.

Will I raise them up to love?

Will I raise them to know the one above?

Overwhelmed and always tired.

Fact is I'll never be fired.

Hearts so pure, so open, so true.

Little lips saying "I love you."

It is a season, a blip in time.

Slowly speeding... but it is mine.

35

This is the first year I feel old.

I know for those of you who are older you're probably rolling your eyes... I'm sure I will roll my eyes when I reread this post in years to come.

However, today I feel old.

Yesterday we were eating lunch at church and a group of younger people sat down and joined us. As I was attempting to dart sweet potatoes being spit at me by Colin, I smiled, said hello and asked if they were in high school. Turns out they were in their last years of College... and two of them were engaged. I then proceeded to recount our engagement story where we didn't have a camera to capture the moment and had to run to CVS, grab a disposable and return to the recreate the gorgeous scene (which I might add did not work very well.) One of the newly engaged remarked "well it's easier nowadays to capture moments." "Yeah," I replied "we didn't have cameras on our phones back then." Blank stares. I felt old.

This weekend we went out to celebrate my birthday. Dhrumil looked dashing in his sports coat, I
wore red lipstick. I felt grown up, fun and trendy. After a lovely dinner followed by a drink at a jazz club, we decided to go home... at 10pm. I felt old.

On a trip with just one child, Colin, people assumed he was our first. When I corrected them, told them he was our third and that our oldest was 7. I felt old.

Last week was our 10 year wedding anniversary. 10 years?! How could 10 years have passed already!? I looked at my husband who has grown stronger, more handsome and even more brilliant with age. A man who constantly knows what I'm thinking before I do. I felt old.

With age comes wisdom. Right? My 34th year was one of redemption. I worked through grieving the baby that we lost. Colin was born, making my heart bigger, stronger and more resilient. I've spent the six months of Colin's life postpartum depression free. I have been stretched in new and crazy ways by juggling 3 kids, Dhrumil's new jobs and no sleep. I am far from super woman, however I know my limitations and am aware enough when to ask for help and when too much is too much. My personal growth has taken off and instead of continuing to rebuild myself as I have been doing for 4 years, I am now adding new windows and doors and even additions! I feel whole. I feel complete. I am more sure of myself, more confident, more ME! And it feels good... I am ever changing, ever evolving and yet I'm ok with that because I finally know I have a good base to add too.

So come on 35... you may feel old, but I bet with age comes comfort, strength and endurance to continue on.

A baby 7 years after the first and so much fun!

Becoming a Mother-Person

It's crazy to think a woman can grow a person for 9+ months, that this person will make his/her way out of you in 12+ hours and then BOOM you are considered a mother. All of the sudden you have been inducted into the most prestigious club there is on earth with one ear splitting cry of a tiny needy person... when just the day before you were fully wrapped up in yourself and who you had been becoming for the past 25+ years. 

Sure books were read, newborn prep classes taken and advice was given, but there really is no amount of preparation that can truly equip you for the life altering change you go through as a person. Learning to take care of a tiny person is one thing... learning to understand the new you is a whole other. Can this change happen so rapidly? So quickly? So overnight? I believe we are meant to believe it does, however I have learned for me that it has taken time.

Becoming a mother-person is a process... a process that is constantly evolving. The wisdom that I have ascertained over these past six years have been invaluable. Looking forward to the upcoming birth of my third child has filled me with a certain excitement that I finally understand what being a mother means to me. I am not talking about being an expert in newborn care 101, preschool tantrums or navigating the total crazy random things your 6 year old does... heck no... I will constantly be surprised by these things, unknowing how to handle them and also floundering on a daily basis. Rather, I am talking about who I am!

I unknowingly fought the idea of being a mother-person for many years.  My internal argument... I was still me wasn’t I?  I wasn’t a 100% selfless being who went with every whim of her children and moved heaven and earth just for them. I had to reserve some identity for myself... I had to be ME!! But I didn’t know who me was and instead of one identity, I had taken on many AND I had made them unattainable. I strove to be a fully unique, dedicated, driven, dare I say perfect and separate person as an employee, wife, friend, musician, thinker, follower of God, woman, daughter, sister, mother.

The thing was I had the idea of who a mother was supposed to be all wrong. I felt I was lowering myself to think of my role as a mother to be my calling at present. I rejected that God had called me to this very precise position in order to shape and mold me into a new identity. One He had predestined for me, one He knew would make me a whole rounded person. Being a mother doesn’t mean being selfless and living for your children 100% of the time. To me, it is an intricate weaving of past, present and future self into someone who is fully unique, imperfect, learning and growing. I had been battling that true identity for 4 years and it was getting exhausting. Exhausting to not be able to fully measure up to who I thought I was supposed to be and exhausting to not be able to accept my true identity.

Embrace

Something finally clicked about a year ago. Maybe it was my depression and the process of having to put myself back together again from the nothingness I had become. Maybe it was the amount of time I spent being a mother. Maybe it was the hundreds of hours of therapy I had done learning to be more self aware, learning to love my imperfect self. Maybe it was because I was finally letting myself let God lead. Maybe it was all of the above... but I have now fully embraced being a mom, being content and also being me... they are all the same thing!  It’s hard to describe but as I birth this baby I will not be re-birthing myself this time. I am no longer a reflection of who I want to be... I am now who God means for me to be right now and that is empowering, encouraging and exciting! I am whole. 

The Real Belly

I pray my son and daughter can grow up loving their imperfections and embracing every mark on their bodies. As I stare in the mirror at my ever growing belly, and my war-torn stretch marks that continue to multiply, I have tried to accept that NOW is the time for my body to go through yet another change... and I will fully embrace that change! I know that after I give birth I will have months of waiting until my belly goes down... that's just how my body is... and I will try to embrace that as well! We are all different and unique and comparing just drops us in the crapper. So here's to the next 9 months and seeing what my body can do.

"Mama why does your belly have those marks?"

"Because I have had the blessing of growing three people inside of me and it stretched me out a bit. Some ladies get marks on them and some do not"

"Does it hurt?"

"No it's just uncomfortable"

"Is this baby I'm feeling!?"

"Yes it is"

"Can baby chestnut hear me? LALALALALALALA"

"Um yes he/she can"

"Did you feel that!?"

"Yes!"

"I love this baby!"

"And I love you!!!"

An Ode to the End

How my daughter views my massive baby bump

You'd think I'd be all sentimental at this point in my pregnancy... especially since the plan is for this to be the last baby. The last experience of the miracle of life growing inside of me. I had thought these last 6 (maybe less!?!?!) weeks would be of me cherishing my growing belly, my glowing self and the silence before the screaming.

But alas... I have never been pregnant in the DEAD of summer, I have never been pregnant with a THIRD baby and goodness I had completely forgotten how UNCOMFORTABLE this whole thing is... especially this time around. And so to remember this time in a realness you can only expect from me...

My legs fall asleep while I sit down to pee

My belly is itchy as itchy can be

When I sleep the baby thinks it's time to play

And if I don't take a nap I'll be a grump all day

Chasing after kids when you're as large as a house

Makes you look like a mad elephant instead of a mouse

My belly has become a dangerous thing

Because of the children who fall with one swing

Chores such as laundry and cooking and cleaning

Are done at the speed of a snail who is weaving

But at least I can laugh and so can the kids

And so can the stranger who's all up in my biz

So body you're amazing as you grow this little person

But hey I think baby building has become quite an aversion

The Rainbow

Being pregnant after a miscarriage has been a completely different experience for me. I approached my first two pregnancies with a sort of naive sense of wonder. Unbridled joy and entitlement were my friends and I went about life without even pausing to let my mind go "there".

My third pregnancy was different... it had been almost three years since I had been pregnant and I felt anxious. I had seen precious friends lose their babies and I knew much more of life's suffering. I had been joyful for those few weeks and yet I had moments where I felt that my sweet baby would not live here on earth with me. I had to continuously remind myself that I was not in control! And when that ever so small, but ever so precious life left me... a small part of me left as well. I never realized how someone so small could so deeply effect me.

Today was my third prenatal visit, but I was still extremely nervous. I have been having trouble accepting that everything is going to be ok this time... that the baby is in fact going to make it and at times... that he/she is still alive. Hope has seemed like something I wasn't allowed to have... I was safer without it.

It felt like time stood still while I waited for the midwife to place the doppler on my belly. I half expected not to hear anything... and then in what felt like an eternity, but was only a moment, the sweet sound of my baby's heartbeat drumming happily away was heard. I could tell the midwife sensed the relief that flooded over me in that moment. As he took my hand to help me sit up he spoke with sincerity "You have been forever changed by your loss... not only do you have the realization that a baby can be easily lost, but that you yourself can experience it." And in that moment I was able to again accept that my feelings of fear were ok. And then move on...

A few weeks ago as I sat staring at my growing belly I was struck with fear and frustration. I was missing someone I had never met... how could I possibly start to love another? How could I even begin to allow myself to remember that God was good after my other baby was taken away? And then a sure small voice said...

I am with you, your baby is in my hands

But God my other baby was in your hands and he/she will never be with me on earth

Yes but that baby was never meant for this earth and instead is with me now and will never have to face fear, disease or pain. It is ok to hope. I know your heart.

Peace washed over me... I was reminded how even when I was so so angry at God for my depression

and feeling completely abandoned... that he was there with me through it all. That I am now a person who I NEVER thought I would be. Confident in Christ who made me! There is no shame in hoping, in believing that this baby is going to be ok... that I will be ok. 

Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. 2 Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. 3 Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, 4 and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, 5 and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. - Romans 5: 1-5

A Balancing Act

Balancing the littles!

The balance beam of life... ah what a tricky thing it is. Throw in a long bout of depression and anxiety and cross your fingers that your multiple tumbles off won't cause you to just want to give up. After so many turbulent tumbles it is hard to remember what the balance beam looks like, much less how to walk forward on it. Tilt too far to the left and you aren't doing enough, tilt too far too the right and you are doing too much, stop dead in the middle and you are just... stuck. Stuck thinking it was so much easier to balance BEFORE... or maybe since I was just unaware of myself and who I was... it was much easier to pretend to balance... to convince myself that I had it, that I understood how life was supposed to go.

Today I stand on the balance beam once again feeling confident and able some days, wobbly and weak others, ready to walk forward in a somewhat steady fashion. Trying to remember the feel of staying upright and yet walking with a whole new understanding of myself and learning how that feels.

Here is a very small glimpse into my balancing struggles... the middle point is where I'd love to be all the time.

On exercising:

• I want to be a blob and eat chocolate
• I want to run for ME! Because it makes ME feel good!
• I want to exercise and watch my food because that is what I have to do because if I don't I will not have a good body shape and look at all those others and how they look!  I need to COUNT every calorie and exercise EVERY DAY and if I don't THAT IS BAD!

On being a mom:

• I don't want to be a mom today! I just want to let them run a muck and watch tv!
• Lets read together, play together, go outside, have quiet time, watch a few shows... just be
• PROJECTS, CRAFTS, LEARNING, FIELD TRIPS, NON STOP TIME TOGETHER

On my depression/anxiety:

• I feel so down, why do I still feel depressed some days!? I don't want to do anything! And I am so anxious I can't even breath... why am I STILL dealing with days like this!?
• Hey... I still deal with being sick sometimes... and it's OK... I love you ElisaBeth... it's here but you don't have to dwell in it... one step at a time
• IM OK IM OK IM OK IM OK IM OK IM OK IM OK NO IM NOT NO IM NOT NO IM NOT

Bring it on balance beam! I know I am not going to be right on the mark every day and I know that tumbles will still come but I am thankful for this journey. I am thankful that I am able to get back up on the beam. I am thankful that I don't have to balance alone... God is with me and all I need to do is look to Him and my soul will be steadied and empowered to keep on going.

The Final Night of 32

I've finally come to it... I've come to the point in life where I've forgotten my age. I was having a conversation with Mikayla about my birthday and I completely blanked on how old I would be. I almost started counting from the year I was born, but after Mikayla said...  "you will be 22? (HA!) 23? NO! 33!" I remembered... it was in fact true... 33.

My last "normal" birthday was when I turned 30. All the possibilities of a new era were at my finger tips. I was ready and excited to see what was going to come of being "thirty, flirty and thriving." I was somewhat naive to real suffering. This was a year before the storm hit. 

It was two years ago this very evening that I figured out I had postpartum depression. The next day, on my 31st birthday, I felt special and celebrated and yet I also felt weighted down by the realization that there was something wrong with me. Understanding I was sick... that I had to get help... that I had to push away the shame and feelings of not being able to "handle" life. I had no idea how tough of a battle I was starting against this illness and against myself. 

And so I sit here... two years later. Anniversaries of things that have happened relating to my depression have been tough. I've been told they will get easier. Today's anniversary is a little easier this year then last. And so in that I find hope. Hope that maybe someday these years of struggle will be a fleeting memory... maybe someday I can help women in a similar situation... maybe someday I can truly embrace the reason God chose this path for me.

I already see glimpses in the ashes... I am stronger. I am wiser. I am more courageous. I am more sensitive. I am me. 

A Small Voice

"Mama why don't you run?"

It was dinner time and the four of us were sitting around the table. The excitement from a busy family day was slowly waning and exhaustion and early bedtimes were creeping into view. Glancing at Mikayla, wisps of dark hair framing her face, large soulful eyes staring straight into mine, I could see see she was waiting for an answer.

I gasped... how could my four year old hone in onto something like this? How could such a simple question send my mind reeling? It is true I hadn't run very much in the past month... I have a long list of excuses and reasons why, but in this moment none of them seemed good enough.

I struggled to answer... and regrettably the first words out of my mouth were "Did someone tell you to ask that? Why are you even asking me that?"

I saw confusion come over Mikayla's face and I realized I had spoken harshly. The anger, guilt and frustration I had been feeling at myself for not running had come out in my answer. Quickly I tried to regain my footing and followed up with something along the lines of "Oh you are wondering because I was running so much before...um... sometimes mommy just gets busy, but I do want to run again."

This answer seemed to suffice and she went back to eating while happily chatting with Dhrumil about the day and giggling at some crazy antics Nolan was doing with his grilled cheese.

Thankful Mikayla was able to move on so easily from our exchange I sat overcome with all the thoughts and feelings that were pouring over me like a pounding waterfall. I kept hearing her little voice and seeing her eyes that seemed to pierce into my very depths. Why was this one question hitting me so hard? Why was I shaken to my very core? This was about so much more than running.

I felt I had let her down.

Ever Learning

I have never been face to face with the feelings of letting my child down. Of appearing vulnerable and seen as giving up on something... appearing weak... appearing human. For as much as I preach to myself and others how important it is for our children to see our imperfections, it was like a slap in the face knowing my daughter had just seen mine.

And really... who set up this "have to do" list anyways? ME! It should be a "have to do the best you can but you won't get it all done and that's ok" list!

And so I am going to try again. I am going to just be me. One who is imperfect in every way, one who has been saved by God's amazing grace and love. I pray that I can teach my children that it is ok to make mistakes...to be human. Life is an incredible balance of trying and trusting. We can do anything with Him and yet we will continue to mess up  and not do it all because... hey... that's life and that's OK.

"There are things that will remain unfinished in life, 

not because we do them poorly, but because that's how life simply is."

I went for a run this morning... I ran for me... with no strings attached... and it felt great. And if I don't run tomorrow... it's ok...

R-E-S-P-E-C-T!

Last Friday night I found myself amidst 700+ people in the middle of a field in "Amish paradise" Pennsylvania. I definitely felt out of my element amongst the gobs of people (many Amish) who were all psyching up to run a 5K down tree and corn-lined country roads and through a field normally reserved for tractors.

Gulping in air pungent with farmland, the Amish pasta party and fuel from the burners filling up hot air balloons, I tried to calm my anxiety and remember why I was running...

SELF RESPECT 

A few months ago I was challenged by my counselor to find something that would be symbolic of the self respect I was building within myself. I started running back in April and along with the obvious physical energy it has given me, the mental clarity has been refreshing.

Ready to DO this!

Typically my type of running requires me alone, on a road, with nothing but the wind in my ears and a tune in my head to keep my pace up and my thoughts out. My jogging/running has been pressure free and 100% for myself.

My challenge for this 5K was to keep the pressure out while reminding myself that I was building:

pride and confidence in oneself; a feeling that one is behaving with honor and dignity...

As well as celebrating the fact that I was doing something I NEVER thought I would... that in itself

was confidence building!

And so with all of that on my mind I lined up with the hundreds of people waiting for the starting shot. Dhrumil and the kids were on the sidelines cheering me on and the friend who had encouraged me to sign up was right beside me. I was ready!

my crazy sprint

The energy and exhilaration that comes from running with so many people was astounding. I felt light as I ran... all judgements, pressures and anxieties floated up up and away, vanishing past the hot air balloons overhead. 

There were two times during that last mile when I was hit by cramps in my side, but my determination to continue running helped me charge on. I kept telling myself "SELF RESPECT" and "JUST CONQUER IT LIKE YOU HAVE BEEN CONQUERING PPD!"Coming up to the finish line I was overcome with crazy energy and hearing the cheers from Mikayla and Dhrumil I sprinted to the end. 

I did it... I showed myself respect and love. I finished the race... and I did it with dignity and honor. I pray I can use this illustration going forward. Each new hurdle life throws can be mastered God's grace, love and pride and confidence in myself.

Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it.

But one thing I do: Forgetting what lies behind and straining toward what is ahead,

I press on toward the goal to win the prize 

for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus

Philippians 3: 13-14

Praying my kids see God's confidence in them so they can see it in themselves!

The Zoo Experience... Most photos can be deceiving

This zoo story needed to be prefaced by some important facts:

• As I write this I am eating a mug of ice cream
• The kids and I decided to join Dhrumil on his business trip to Toledo in hopes of enjoying the
  indoor pool, visiting friends in Dayton and basically not having to endure a whole week at home alone.
• A week ago Nolan caught the Hand, Foot and Mouth virus...
• 3 days after that Mikayla caught a milder version 
• 3 days after that Dhrumil caught the adult version (yes by that time we were in Toledo)
• Nolan has been waking up at 5:30am in the hotel, this morning it was 4:30 and he fell back asleep in our bed, head jammed against my side, for only about a half hour 
• Nolan is going through a "yell talk" and "attempting to run everywhere or only be held by Mama while sucking his thumb" stage 
• Mikayla is going through a... Yeah don't know how to explain her stage ;)

Ok so basically...  One heck of a loooooong week and a half, tired kids, tired mama, need to leave the hotel, it's Toledo, there's a zoo... type of thing going on.

And so... Did I think it would be all roses? No. Ok fine maybe a small part of me hoped for a miracle. I have never attempted something of this magnitude with both if them  in tow before, but I decided to just give it a go and if it got rough we would just leave.

We pulled into the zoo and after taking 5-10 minutes arranging the double stroller, strategically placing water and snacks within reach and taking a deep breath telling myself I could DO THIS I went to grab Nolan who had just fallen asleep. He was not happy I disturbed his slumber and let out a very loud wail as I tried to lovingly pin him down and strap him into the stroller. Mikayla got in easily and the three of us (one screaming with every part of him) walked to the entrance invoking  every pity stare and sighs of "thank God that's not my child" from all the people we passed. 

He eventually stopped and for about an hour we had a really good time. I had us go on the train ride around Africa and though the picture above may show what the majority of our time looked like, we did have a joyful experience on that train.

And here is the last hour in a nutshell:

• Pushing my double stroller all over a zoo takes physical muscles
• Pushing my stroller all over the zoo with a whining 4 year old and holding a crying 1 year old takes more physical muscle and even more mental muscle (especially when it includes and very steep hill to get to the overpass)
• The kids would rather play on the zoo playground than watch the monkeys play on their playground
• When I said "Mikayla look the wolves are so close" she said "can we see something else"
• When I said "Nolan look the wolves are so close" he said "ball ball" (there was a ball in their area)
• Throwing pennies in the fountain was the high point of the visit
• When watching a mother struggle with her double stroller and heavy doors, trying to make it into the bird experience house with the grace of a peacock, DONT JUST STARE!
• Mikayla on being hungry "I'm so hungry my tongue is going to turn red if I don't eat soon"
• $8.50 is not a well spent dollar on a PB&J that was refused by a 1 year old

How long did we stay? Two hours... I was hot, sweaty, carrying Nolan, pushing a very tired Mikayla and just wanted to ask them to stick me in the Ape house where I'd yell "I give up!"

BUT it was worth it because..

I am thankful for seeing Mikayla's face light up in the bird house as the birds flew above her. I am thankful for watching Nolan popping his little face in and out of the play beaver house, giggles filling up the hollow cave. I am thankful for the quiet train ride, holding my babies close, feeling the wind in my hair and watch in the magnificent giraffes. I am thankful to know that I did it! A year ago, knee deep on my recovery,  I couldn't even go a week alone with the kids. 

This was a victory for me... All that other stuff? Just good stories to tell to the kids when they are older. 

A Search for the Truth

Being a believer of Christ since I was four years old, and having a personal relationship with Him every day since, does not seem to merit the title of this post. And yet... here it is.

Here I am.

It used to be as easy as knowing God, trusting God, fully believing in God... and that was that. And that is still how it is for most people I know.

Tim Keller  has said "Suffering awakens us out of our haunted sleep of spiritual sufficiency into a serious search for the divine."

When I read this quote a sense of relief calmed my anxious soul. It is ok to question. It is ok to search
for the truth. I still believed, and yet I wasn't 100% anymore. What did my relationship with God mean anymore? I had felt so abandoned by God in my darkest hours that I could no longer trust that He is who He says He is.

Message on a parking garage wall... I found it when I needed to

Lately... ok more like the past 10 months... I have been doing some major soul searching. My soul searching usually goes like this:

• Feel anger towards God about my depression and all associated with it
• Unable to speak to God
• Must force self to go to church, to talk about God, to make it like all was ok with Him
• God speaks through someone or something and it makes me think
• I talk it out to Dhrumil or anyone I feel will listen with an open mind
• I move a little closer back in the direction of Him
• I have a setback
• Feel anger towards God about my depression and all associated with it

You get the general idea...

Where I get confused about this soul searching journey is when I read over my posts early on in my diagnosis of PPD. They are full of suffering and yet they are also full of hope and trust in God. I was THANKFUL for my depression and I felt there was a REASON to it and I knew that God was with me. It wasn't until many months into it, when I started to mentally feel better, that the anger began.

Which brings me to last night, my incessant questioning and my latest challenge... what is the point to all of this suffering? Is it even worth living in such a horrible place? God what is the POINT to this life?

I saw the movie The Giver and it got me thinking... more like sat in the car after I saw it and stared into oblivion for good long while. And then I drove to the bookstore and sat in the bookstore and stared into oblivion for a good long while.

Do you see things in black and white? Wouldn't it be easier that way? No one would judge the color of one's skin. Life's rules would be understood. You do or you don't. Order would reign supreme.

What about the Bible? It could be interpreted in one way and one way only... every passage would be completely understood and every person would understand it in the way it was "supposed" to be understood. There would be no gray, no blurring, just clarity.

I will spare you the "book review" but the basic gist of the movie is that a community sees in black and white, they have been "spared" of all pain and suffering and they all go about their business in contentment and near perfection. The thing is that they have also been "spared" what love and true joy is.

I won't ruin the ending, but this was my takeaway:

With all of the crap in the world... the horrors... there is joy and love and so much to experience and through these experiences we still can see the true beauty of life. We were given choices, but there is also just life that doesn't come from choice, but just comes from living in a fallen world. But those moments of joy and love... those moments that give us glimpses of heaven and a tiny bit of what God's love is like... it makes it all worth it.

Black and white would not give you this. Clarity would not give you this. Like Mother Theresa said "I have never had clarity; what I have always had is trust."

I have trust that this where I am supposed to be in my journey. Trust that hope can once more reign supreme. And trust that I will once again run into the arms of my Savior.

All Quiet on the Social Media Front

Something new has been evolving in myself. It is called the JUST DO IT effect. Usually when I make a big decision I debate it in my head, talk it over with Dhrumil and friends, debate it again, maybe get my toes wet with the idea, maybe back out, then get my toes wet again... you get the idea. Anyways the first time I noticed this "new me" was when I decided to start running back in April. I had been toying with the idea of exercising and eating better but then one night I said to myself... you just need to get healthy... and the next day, and consecutive days after, I did just that. The same thing happened with my social media pause...

A few weeks ago I decided to "break up" with Facebook and Instagram for a while. The thought of doing this terrified me for many reasons:

- What would I do when I was sitting in a chair with a few brain moments to spare?
- Who would I share my adorable kid pictures with?
- Who would I share with the AMAZING ice cream I was eating RIGHT at that moment!?
- How many births/marriages/adoptions/growths of little children/birthdays would I miss?
- Whose vacation pictures would I miss?
- How many good recipes would I miss?
- What would I do with my iphone?
- What would I do during commercials?
- I would be more - gasp - out - gasp - of the loop - gasp - than I already am being in mama-loo-loo land gasp!
- What would I do without the gobs of information posted by my friends?
- How would I parent without all of the important top 30 lists of how I could be better?

Enjoying THIS moment... wait is that over-share?

But even with all of those reasons (which seem SO petty and SO ridiculous when I read them) I decided that it just needed to be done.

My motivation? I wanted to honor and remember the time that I spent in the hospital a year ago. While
there, I was completely unplugged from tv, computer and phone. It was pretty freeing and though I didn't want to go all the way this time, I thought that giving up social media would be one small way that I could pay homage to what I had gone through.

And so I woke up one morning, a few days before my hospitalization "anniversary" and decided then and there that I would begin my day without a media life line.

How was it?

Well the first few days were tough. I'd stare my phone I was holding and try to think of something else I could do. I started reading the news (super depressing) because I had nothing else to read on my phone. I started texting pictures of the kids to my parents and sister because someone needed to see them besides me. But then something pretty cool happened. I put down my phone and focused more on my kids, my husband, my surroundings and myself. Here are somethings I learned:

- I took moments of silence as just that... moments to let my brain rest
- I wasn't tied into wondering why so and so decided to go there and eat that and instead I was able to enjoy where I was at in that moment
- I stopped thinking about my every day moves as potential Facebook posts
- I took photos for me and no one else
- I enjoyed what I was doing in that moment and not thinking about how I could "share" what I was doing with others
- I didn't compare myself to others in the sometimes "fictitious" world of social media
- I didn't feel the need to pull out my phone and scan status updates while standing in line or at a stop light (I know I know the phone shouldn't be anywhere near me while driving)

The list could really go on and on. Bottom line... it was a good thing a VERY good thing. I felt so much better about myself. I actually didn't want to come back.

Well old habits die hard and after my two week hiatus I took off right where I left off. It was so easy to fall back into checking status feeds constantly.

Recently Dhrumil and I have been having a conversation about if our lives would be better without social media. And what kind of example do we want to give our kids? We agreed that life would probably be a little better... but we also agreed that this is a constantly changing world, one that I, in mama-lala-land, would like to keep up with.

And so going forward I am going to try to instill some ground rules about social media for myself. Bottom line... I want to be able to get to a place where social media and I can coexist in harmony. I want to make sure I take time to smell the roses and not always have to take a picture and share it with all. :)

The Dentist

Dentist... hearing that word usually revokes most to shudder in fear. I have yet to meet a person who gets excited by the prospect of teeth mutilation... I mean cleaning.

My lifetime of dentistry has been far from fun. I was always "that kid" who had those "deep grooves" in my teeth which were prone to "sticky situations" leading to cavities. I was also blessed with what I now understand to be "phase 1 AND 2" of orthodontic work. I started going when I was 8 and ended when I was 17. As an adult I have come to the conclusion that giving birth is more enjoyable than the scraping and poking of my poor and precious teeth.

So now you have my history.

When it came to bringing my own children to the dentist I was far from enthused. However, I needed to put on a happy face so they would think it was fun and exciting. Before Mikayla's first visit six months ago I spoke to her about the exciting passage into becoming a dentist going girl... "OOOO you get prizes! Yes you get to sit in your own chair! You get to pick the flavor of your tooth paste! A prize will be yours at the end! What color tooth brush will you pick!?" Happy dance... smiling... all the while cringing inside at the very thought of her laying silently and letting someone touch her teeth.

The appointment came and went and she did an amazing job. I had nothing to fear and when they asked me if Nolan would like a back to back appointment the next time Mikayla came in I didn't hesitate to accept. My rationale being it would be better to introduce him early on and since Mikayla is such a champ it would be a walk in the park. Excuse me... what!?

And then we come to today.

Normally preparation is the key to success for Mikayla. She is the type of kid who likes to know what is going to happen and why and how. Despite that fact, I didn't feel the need to prepare her with the dentist happy dance and words of adoration because:

1. With her memory she would remember everything including how "fun" it was 
2. I forgot
3. She did great last time
4. Life is chaos and I forgot

I also didn't feel the need to prepare Mikayla that her brother was going to also be getting his teeth cleaned because:

1. No big deal
2. It will work like clock work
3. Yup

We arrived in the office at 9am sharp and after being given 6 pages to fill out (Nolan needed his own set of records... WHY can't they just copy Mikayla's?) I was dragged by my four year old to Frozen playing in the waiting room. While trying to wrangle Nolan and placate Mikayla who realized it was just the dvd menu of Frozen playing, I willed myself to remember dates and phone numbers and the like.
Our name was called and with my excited words of "hooray it's our turn" Mikayla followed me into the back. As we headed into the exam room Mikayla stopped and refused to go in. Wrangling Nolan, diaper bag and clipboard with most pages still not filled out, I was not physically or mentally prepared for her refusal. Thankfully the sweet hygienist got her in with "let's pick out a toothbrush." As I sat in the seat next to the dentist chair waiting for Mikayla to choose her toothbrush "Mama there are too many choices!" I took a deep breath and was thankful for Beauty and the Beast playing in perfect view. Then she wouldn't sit on the chair. And nothing would get her there except for me. And so with both kids sitting on my lap (Nolan squirming) we tried to coax Mikayla to open her mouth for the "chocolate" tooth paste. Not happening... she wanted brother to go first. The hygienist left to go talk to the dentist and I frantically filled out the rest of the paperwork.

After his cleaning

We were moved to another room, I again had to sit on the chair with Nolan on my lap. Staring at my legs that I had forgotten to shave in... "how many days?" I prayed no one would notice and looked over to see a happy Mikayla watching us and chatting with the hygienist. This whole time I uttered things like  "ooo look at that light" and "your turn next to get a teeth tickle!"  Nolan screamed in my arms as the dentist brushed his teeth. After an eternity (more like 5 minutes) the dentist was done, I was sweaty and had the beginnings of a tension headache and Nolan was giggling and playing with his prize.

Back to the other room we went (why, I do not know) and again Mikayla refused to get in the chair. I got back on, both kids in lap, dentist at the ready with determined "don't mess with me kid" look on his face. And then within about 30 seconds the following... Mikayla wouldn't open her mouth, dentist tried to "help" her which I knew in an instant was not the way to go, she started to scream, Nolan started to scream, hygienist took Nolan to be helpful which made his scream louder, Mikayla screamed like no one's business, I grabbed Nolan back, firmly told the dentist we were leaving and would come back another time when I was without Nolan. Headache pounding, kids whimpering, dentist and hygienist staring, dentist offering "she just wants to control the situation" UM SHE IS 4... we left.

Of course as a mother having my brain and depression still in the picture, the following had been running through my mind during those 30 awful seconds. "I don't want her to be traumatized by this, she will never come back without screaming, I'm not having her teeth cleaned by force, my children are screaming so loud, why isn't my child listening, why isn't she perfect, what if I'm not parenting her correctly, this is my fault, what should I be doing differently, what will these people think of me".... and it goes on and on.

After making it to the van and shedding a few of my own "OMG THAT WAS AWFUL" tears, I decided we would head to the park. "Why are we going to the park mommy?" "Because, unlike that visit to the dentist, we are going to have fun!" Mikayla giggled and the high standards I held on myself and on her melted in the joy that filled her face.

So how do we go forward? I'm definitely instituting a one child - one parent ratio for all dentist visits going forward for at least a few years.

Our experience was another in-your-face reminder of this thing we call life. It's not perfect, we are not perfect, and we are doing the best we can. Letting go of judgement on myself, letting go of the judgement others may be giving and just moving through each step with the ease of an elephant on point shoes... bumbling, falling, but getting up again... is what I have to do.

Ironically I have a filling tonight. Thankfully it will be alone...

They keep me on my toes

Turning the day around

Next Steps

I have categorized the past two years of my life, indicating some of my feelings during those times, as such:

• Pre-Pennsylvania (Working mom of 1, stable and happy but ready for a change) 2012
• Pre-baby Pennsylvania (Stay at home mom of 1, lonely and isolated and trying to adjust while throwing myself into every possible activity to meet people) September 2012 - December 2012
• Post-baby/pre-PPD identified (Stay at home mom of 2, lonely and trying to figure out parenting 2 kids while feeling intensely overwhelmed and numb) December 2012 - March 2013
• Post-baby PPD identified (Losing self, trying to fit into new life, grappling with diagnosis) March 2013 - June 2013
• Intense PPD (Chaos in the mind, a blur, loss of time, crisis mode) June 2013 - September 2013
• Rebuilding myself with PPD (Trying to put the pieces of myself back together including the new pieces that I came across through intense therapy and learning to live with my illness) September 2013 - February 2014
• Post intense PPD/Moving forward (No longer in survival mode, learning what it's like to be feeling better for the first time as a stay at home mom of 2 with friends and a life in PA) February 2014 - present

Wow... when I look at all I have gone through written out like that... I really want to just give myself a big hug and also give myself grace. That statement in-itself is a HUGE testament to how far I have come and how much I have changed. I have never been one to give myself grace even in the midst of such horrible suffering that was out of my control. I am so thankful that I now see clearly. 

Lately I have been having experiences which normally would be no big deal, but I see as huge next steps. These experiences haven't happened since "pre-Pennsylvania" times and therefore feel brand new. I recently accomplished one...

This past weekend I flew to Nashville to see a dear friend get married. When the invitation first came in the mail I knew without a doubt that I would be going; however I didn't think through the ramifications of where I was at (Post intense PPD) and when I had last flown alone (Pre-Pennsylvania) Dhrumil planned out all of the logistics for me (because he had realized the huge step I was taking even if I hadn't) and even printed out a wonderful itinerary and booked a gorgeous hotel. 

A few days before my flight I started to feel intensely anxious and overwhelmed by the slightest details of the trip having no idea how I was going to pull it off. The cycle of fear and doubt crept in which led to annoyance and frustration at myself. Pre-Pennsylvania I didn't have a problem with this! Pre-Pennsylvania I went on business trips alone including one while pregnant with Nolan overseas with a stop in Amsterdam to sightsee ALONE! How could I be freaking out about this!? Then I remembered that I was a new person, still fragile in my delicate newly adjusted skin. I had to give myself grace and love and remind myself that I was ready for this next step.

The trip was truly amazing. My therapist had challenged me to not take on too much during this short trip (ie. sightseeing, go go GOING) and go for the purpose of the wedding and that was it. I have been learning that I take on way too much and push myself to un-human expectations thus leaving me an empty shell with hardly anything left for my family, let alone myself. And so I took her challenge and let me just say I learned a huge lesson on what taking on just enough means. Some of what I did:

• Drove to Philly, took parking shuttle, took plane, took shuttle to hotel, took taxi, took limo, hailed

  

  Me and the beautiful bride Dara

  taxi amidst the super drunk people of Nashville, took taxi to airport next day, took plane, took shuttle, drove car home
• Went with the flow
• Read magazines
• Started a new book
• Took a nap
• Ate slowly at the hotel restaurant while reading
• Took multiple showers and washed my hair every time (yes this is huge when you are a mama)
• Spent precious hours with my friend while she got ready for the wedding
• Was filled with joy at seeing her marry and had fun meeting her friends
• Slept in
• Had breakfast in bed
• Came home tired but not TOO TIRED for my family and was not overwhelmed going into the week

And so here I am. Proud of myself for accomplishing a next step. I have been through a ton, but I am moving forward! I am slowly toughening up my new skin and loving myself in it.

I didn't want to leave the bed! ;-)

The Grand Conclusion

So it only took me... say... four and a half years to come upon what I shall now call The Grand Conclusion (cue the trumpets). Staring me in the face this whole time was the simple answer to my most innate and inner question yearning to be solved multiple times a day.

(cue more trumpets)

My house... my dwelling place... my peaceful abode... well it's going to be messy almost always. And I am just going to have to be ok with that.

SIGH

There you have it.

6am this morning... all sleeping peacefully in their beds, all things silently sitting in their places, toys picked up, kitchen clean, toilets flushed, laundry folded, no strange smells coming from anywhere.

6:15am and the little Tasmanian devil yells to all that he has awakened. An hour later (and already one clean up later done by my wonderful husband before he went to work) and things have started to appear in disarray.

9:00am having escaped the downstairs toy pile-up and half cleaned breakfast dishes I was attempting to

get dressed when I heard a huge crash in Nolan's room. The sound of multiple toys colliding together sent chills down my spine. The laughter that immediately followed allowed me to continue dressing and postpone the inevitable survey of damage.

9:15am I came out of the bathroom to see ALL of the pillows we owned surrounding Nolan in the
middle of my bedroom. He was gleefully allowing his sister to pile them around him and the more she added the more he cheered.

It was in that moment where I stopped the words that were about to leave my lips... the words that would have put a damper to their fun and would have been something along the lines of "what are you do... you have to clean... what the... why do I even...what's the point in... ahhhh." Instead I took a deep breath and The Grand Conclusion hit me in the face.

The kids were having fun... the cleaning would eventually happen... my world was ok with, or HAD to be ok with, mess. I decided to let their fun outweigh my sense of urgency to put every pillow back in its place. There are more important things in life and in these moments of little kid chaos than to constantly keep a straightened up home.

And so here I sit... staring at a mess... too tired to get up and clean it. And even if I did nap time will come to an end and the mess would be back again in two seconds flat. So I guess it's time to embrace the new me... the me who can go to sleep with the family room littered with toys, dishes in the sink and a less then perfect smell in the house. This season is sure to end and I don't want to look back on it remembering all the cleaning I did, but instead remembering the giggles and joy that can only come from two adorable chubby cheeked little kids.

I Blame Yo Yo Ma

Ah nostalgia... how I love you... how I hate you!

You often catch me by surprise, capturing my mind by the beauty of a memory. Toying with me as I remember who I used to be, and implanting longing to be that person again. You make me feel the highs that I once felt from my former self, the jubilation of a season that is past.

Then the loathing I have for you seeps like something sour that is meant to be sweet. I'm consumed with sadness for I can not experience those moments again. I feel anger towards myself for allowing myself to miss the past.

This bundle of feelings... this brain that will not cease to just be. This all came about today because of
Yo Yo Ma... I blame him!

The kids were strangely quiet and serene while I prepared dinner, allowing me to skip the normal Frozen soundtrack in lieu of something a little more peaceful... I decided on Yo Yo Ma. From the first notes of the cello I was immediately transported away from my vegetable chopping and mama-being, to a time when classical music, the violin, being an artist... they defined who I was. All the feelings about who I was then, and all of the work I put towards being that person settled over me. I remembered the camaraderie of other like minded young people, the friendships formed out of loving the same thing. I remembered the moment I watched Yo Yo Ma play... the opportunity to meet him... the anxiety that kept me from meeting him.... then the annoyance at my teenage self for skipping such an amazing opportunity.

Silly... still being mad at myself for something that happened almost twenty years ago. Annoying how everything in my life has to be a learning experience... which all seems to relate to now and understanding the role anxiety has played in my growth. With the anger towards my young self starting to overtake me along with the frustration and sadness of missing such a wonderful season in my life, I noticed the squash I had been chopping was now mush....

And then the age old question... the nagging, annoying question that nostalgia grabs from my very being again and again and again and again hit me like a ton of bricks... "WHAT WAS THE POINT OF ALL THAT!?" Look at who I am today... I'm wearing gym clothes covered in mashed banana and crusty lunch. I am referee, cook, cleaner, bather, nurse, magician, entertainer to two little kids who enjoy pouncing on me all day. Some days I go hours without speaking to another human being over that age of 4. What of my schooling? What of my work experience? What of my talents and gifts? Am I losing brain-watts every moment I try to teach my son to say "woof goes the dog?"

Obviously the answer is no...

No I'm not losing brain-power. And yes there was a point for my life before today. I am who I am because this is who I chose to be right now. Who I was is still in there, who I will be is in there too, and all of that makes the beautiful person I am today.

The past was a tremendous gift, but the present is so much more. Being a stay at home mom can sometimes blind me with loneliness, isolation, and longing to be more than, but the thing is I am SO much more than I can ever imagine I could be.

And with that I will end this post. To ponder on... to think on... you are SO much more than. In whatever you do, you were created in His image, in His likeness and you are special.

Darn nostalgia.