Lessons From Infertility

Alot of you who follow this blog know our story. Some of you have been with me since day one of my journey with Rod, some sixteen years ago. However, most of you aren't familiar with the road we've traveled.

Today, for some reason, I knew it was time to tell the story.

Rodrick and I started dating in August of 1995. We got engaged in February of '96, and married on November 9, 1996. It was the beginning of a beautiful thing. After being married for a year, we decided we were ready to have children.

We had no idea what would come next.

When you get married, you give little thought to "what happens if we don't get pregnant?". It never even entered my mind. Not for a second. So you can imagine when, after one year of trying flew by, and there was no baby, I was a little surprised. Year two rolls by, and I was concerned. Year three, and I was panicked.

This is the part where most people say, "Why didn't you do something medically by then?" Our lives were busy, to say the least. We were full-time youth and children's pastors, and our house was literally a rotating door of teenagers all the time. We were not "prepared" for infertility, because it was kinda just a given that we'd have kids because we were kid crazy. Life moves on. And really, it took three years before the reality hit me.

We were dealing with infertility.

Oh yes, I went to doctors for my yearly check ups. I'd tell them my symptoms and concerns, and how I was worried about the fact that we had no baby after trying for three years. The response, without fail, was "You're young. You've got time."

Almost seven years into our marriage, we (I) finally mustered the courage to begin fertility research, to dig deeply into why this wasn't happening on its own. Rod had his tests. My first appointment was scheduled. A few days before, I decided to take a pregnancy test, to skip a step, as I knew before we proceeded, they'd want to know if I was pregnant or not. I peed on the stick. Turned the shower on. Grabbed my towel. Glanced at the test.

There. Were. Two. Lines.

I'm pretty sure I sank to the floor. Two lines. TWO LINES. And here she is.



Three months after Abi was born, we decided to start trying again. Hoping and assuming it would happen easier this time, we ran into parenthood raising a newborn daughter and believing God for a sibling for her to grow up with. Well, the same story takes place in this second act. Months turn into years and we found ourselves seven years down the road again, and no new baby. We make the doctor's appointment. A trusted friend and mentor of mine asked me, "What month are you wanting to be pregnant by?" I said, "I can wrap my heart around July."

We go to the doc. He looks at records, does his own assessments, and decides to put us on Clomid (an ovulatory drug). Month one, no baby. He discusses with us that if nothing happens by the third month, he will refer us to another specialist. Second month, double the dosage. I wake up one morning, knowing I needed to take a test.

There were two lines. TWO LINES. AGAIN.

It was July 5. And here HE is.




For most of the world, fertility is as natural as breathing. It's 1+1=2. For the other part of the world, the lows of infertility are unspeakable. This is a foreign world to most of you, so on behalf of those struggling, can I educate you for a few minutes?

Here's the deal.

When people you love are around you, rejoicing in their conceptions and welcoming new lives into the world, you want to rejoice. But you want to run. And scream. And punch them. And rejoice. All at the same time.

When the holidays roll around and Christmas cards of chubby babies in Santa hats come to your mailbox, you want to rip your mailbox out of the ground.

A man and a woman are a FAMILY. They are no less a family than a "family" with 5 kids. Children do not define a family unit... the marriage union does.

When people tell you they're pregnant, and they apologize for being so, it doesn't help matters at all. Do not apologize for being pregnant. You did nothing wrong. And please send the desiring mom the invitation to the baby shower (if she is your friend), as awkward as it sounds. People who have a hard time getting pregnant don't want to be made exceptions to the rule. Avoiding them, refraining from talking about the baby, and pretending you aren't excited about your coming arrival only makes the struggling woman feel even more of the "odd one out." Just be normal.

Never, ever, EVER ask someone who has been married a while, "Are you guys not going to have children?" Or, "So, when's a baby coming?" Your intentions are good, I know. But really. That's one of those questions that may not have a pleasant answer. It's like rubbing salt in a wound everytime a person struggling with conceiving has to answer it. Because there's no answer. I cried MANY times after that question was asked, in my car or bed, after the fact.

Avoid phrases like, "Well, it must not be God's will for you to have children." SERIOUSLY? Another terrible thing to say is, "You can always adopt." Adoption is not a runner up option. It's not a consolation prize. It is beautiful and wonderful, and believe me... if someone "needs" to adopt, they know it, so you don't have to give them that option.

Mother's Day is hard. If you're CLOSE to someone, send them a note. Otherwise, just walk away from that. It's just one of the 365 that aren't easy to get through if you're struggling.

Don't assume since someone isn't a parent yet (or ever) that they need to borrow your children. Babysitting is one thing, and most are glad to offer it. But your children are not their children, and "loaning them" to them is not filling the emotional hole in them.

Encourage-- don't harass-- them. Special Bible verses, handwritten cards, and sweet texts now and then will really lift their emotions. But don't see them as a charity case. They need empathy, not sympathy.

If they want to give up, let them. They will most likely come back around in their own time. Some days are easy, and some are extremely difficult. It's a roller coaster ride. And not a fun one. Sometimes there's cotton candy at the end and sometimes there's nada. Zilch. Nothing.

Those who have struggled with infertility see stretch marks, ligament pains, morning sickness, and uncomfy kicks as reminders of God's favor. And when you say things like, "Whew, I'm glad that stage is over for me," it really does sting. Because for those of us who struggled, we longed for what you had day in and day out. It's something that once we have it, we don't take it for granted.



Not long ago, I was in Atlanta with our youth on a retreat. In the CNN building, I saw this monument. And though it was honoring the military, I found its truth to be paralleled to what infertility feels like.



Am I saying those of us who dealt with infertility and then had a baby or two love our children more than those of you who got pregnant effortlessly? Absolutely not. Am I saying our children are worth more? Definitely no. Let me close with this truth.

If you've ever fought for something- for love, for a job you want, for freedom, for a baby... the price you've paid carries GREAT weight in the understanding you have of the value of that prize. So, when you're complaining about running from soccer to ballet to Scouts to football, please remember. Someone near you would give anything to make those drives in the evenings or get up with a crying baby in the early morning hours. Someone close by would give all their earthly possessions to have to deal with the snotty noses and snotty attitudes that make you want to get on a boat and sail far away. Someone right around the corner would love to be able to snap their fingers and hear, "MOOOOOM, LOOOOOOK!!!!!!!" five hundred and eighty-seven times in three hours.

I was that girl.

To all of you who are struggling-- my heart is full for you.

And I get it.

Until Alzheimer's Do We Part.

Forgive me. I don't usually make such strong and harsh statements about a particular person, at least on my blog. And I certainly don't call out someone for their grave mistakes from a public platform such as this. But this morning, I could not keep my mouth shut any longer.

Pat Robertson has long since been a "voice" for Christianity in the media, both religious and secular. I have also long since hated that he is a representative for Christianity because of his completely erroneous views on Hurricane Katrina being the wrath of God toward homosexuals, September 11th being God's hatred toward America's wayward heart, and worldwide catastrophes such as tsunamis and earthquakes being the world reaping God's judgement and anger.

But seriously, more than how all of the above angers me to my core, his latest idiocy blows my mind. This "man of God," this representative of the Gospel, has publicly stated on his TV show 700 Club, that it's okay to divorce your spouse, should she/he develop Alzheimer's disease and degenerate mentally and physically.

I am not making this up. You can read it by going to this link, if you can stomach it.
http://blog.christianitytoday.com/ctliveblog/archives/2011/09/pat_robertson_s.html

Bascially, someone writes into the show, asking what she should tell a friend who is currently dating another woman because "his wife as he knows her is gone" from Alzheimer's. Pat's authoritative response?

"That is a terribly hard thing," Robertson said. "I hate Alzheimer's. It is one of the most awful things because here is a loved one—this is the woman or man that you have loved for 20, 30, 40 years. And suddenly that person is gone. They're gone. They are gone. So, what he says basically is correct. But I know it sounds cruel, but if he's going to do something he should divorce her and start all over again. But to make sure she has custodial care and somebody looking after her."

Pat goes on later to say that the person would be following "'til death do we part" because Alzheimer's is a "kind of death."

(By now, you may be wondering how this ties into Old School Parenting. I'm getting there. Bear with me, please.)

As I write this blog today, I can physically feel a reaction to this man's blatant disregard for life's most sacred union. I actually think my heart is beating a little faster than it was a few minutes ago. Perhaps this is a glimpse of how Jesus felt in the temple that day-- a fury that rose from inside Him because His Father's house was being tarnished by scoundrels and thieves. The anger this stupidity makes me feel stirs my heart for one main reason-

He is tearing away at the very thing Jesus gave His life to save-- families.

Pat Robertson, unfortunately, is in a position of authority in this world. He is recognized by young and old, around the planet as an "official" in Christianity. You may be one of the ones who doesn't recognize him, but the point is, his accessibility on television and Internet (sadly) qualifies him as a presence deserving attention and as a voice of expertise on the Word of God.

We live in a world that is clearly in moral decline. Words like "purity," "virtue," and "integrity" are words that very obviously hold little place in the modern family. Research shows that only 46% of CHRISTIAN adults believe there is a clear, absolute truth. SERIOUSLY? Less than HALF of us???? Ohhhh, wait! This divorce and Alzheimer's thing would fall into this category, because as the Reverend Robertson puts it, "Alzheimer's is a KIND of death." The heart beating, lungs working, stomach growling doesn't pass as living. The mental decline of our faculties qualifies as death. Someone notify all morgues around the world, please.

Sadly, Mr. Robertson is a reflection of a fickle Christianity that has permeated the world with its loose boundaries and guidelines. Thoughts like these are teaching our children that marriage is only in effect when it's convenient to be so. You married a well-bodied, fully functional man... and it's okay to divorce him if he's ever paralyzed or disabled because he can't contribute to your union anymore. Why don't we just shoot the elderly while we're at it?

Parents, please hear my heart. Few things are left that are sacred in this world anymore. Marriage is slowly on the out. Aborting a life is as common as birthing one, depending on the mood the mom is in that day. Promises are made, and rarely kept unless there's a contract with a lawyer enforcing it. It's time for the body of Christ to rise and say ENOUGH. And how do we do that?

By letting our yes mean yes, and our no mean no. When you make a promise to your spouse or your child, keep it at all costs. Children mimic what they see. If they see you being genuine and trustworthy, they won't be able to avoid being the same way.

Treat marriage as the gift it is. For better or for worse means day to day! The exciting, the mundane, the routine, the highs and lows... being committed to each other. But also being committed to build each other up with our words and our actions. Your spouse is your life partner. Meaning, from the altar to your last breath.

Search your heart on issues of morality and absolute truth. Do you know what you believe? Really know? Do you think certain sins are appropriate some times and not in other times? Are you wavering on issues of right and wrong? Is your moral compass broken? Can you even find it? Jesus came to bring us back to God, and as a result, ALL your sins were dealt with at the cross. But that forgiveness does not pardon us from a responsibility to live a life of integrity, both in the light, and in the shadows.

I look at my husband and think of Pat Robertson's words-- and I cringe. How can I look at this man- this man whom I pledged my life, my love, my body, and my faithfulness to for the rest of our lives-- and say to him, "It's all intact unless you lose your ability to love me back." How can I look at the man who has given his blood, sweat, and energy to providing a nice house for me and his children to live in... who has sacrificed his best years to make sure all of my years are my best ones... who has loved me through years of infertility and emotional pain, sat at my bedside while I was in the hospital from my own stupidity... all of this- and tell him, "You're not good enough anymore"?

I hope you feel the anger. Because if you feel it, you'll be stirred to action. To be the best you can be, right where you are.

And that's all the change in the world.

Amazing Kids.

Ouch.

Before you have kids, you know everything. You judge other people's parenting styles and say profound things like, "When I have kids..." Or, "I will NEVER do that." And my favorite is, "Know what I would do? I would..."

Then, a 7lb9oz bundle of humanity enters your life and it hits you like a ton of bricks.

I don't know anything.

So, time moves on. You muddle through the mundane and fly through the fun times, and before you know it, you've got a kid walking across the stage, receiving her diploma from high school. And you hope against all hope you did it right.

I want my children to be amazing. Not just "good kids," and not just "great kids." I want their lives to be NOTHING short of amazing. Now, hear me out, all you "I want everyone to be fair" people. I'm not saying every person isn't amazing. The fact that you are one of two million sperm that met one teeny tiny egg is miraculous alone. The fact that the Creator of the universe numbered the hairs on your head and calls you by His own special name for you is both breathtaking and humbling at the same time. So, yes, we are all "amazing" in His eyes and in our own ways.

But what I'm talking about is raising children who are amazing- which by definition means "To overwhelm with wonder, to bewilder."

I don't know if you've noticed, but there's alot of bewildering behavior from children these days. But like I've said 72,488 times, we have a parent problem, not a child problem in this country. Parents are leaving the school systems, churches, Internet, television, and older siblings to raise their children, all for the sake of the almighty dollar. And as a result, we've got a group of kids who cannot carry on a meaningful conversation with another human being, have no moral compass by which to guide their lives, and are drifting aimlessly the closer they get to adulthood.

This is not amazing. This is sad. This is tragic.

So how then? How do we raise children who overwhelm the world with wonder because of the content of their character? How do we produce children who bewilder others with their style, their grace, their hearts?

1- Spend time parenting them on purpose. Fixing dinner, carpooling all over town, and bedtime routines are non-negotiable parts of most of our lives. However, we can parent on purpose through these moments. As you cook, employ little hands to help you mix it up, and sneak in a life lesson about patience. As you drive to yet another sporting event, find something out the window to talk about that exemplifies the magnificence of the God we serve. When you make a mistake, point it out to your children, and tell them what you did to correct it. Be vigilant about seizing the small moments because the big moments are rare and before you know what happened, life moved on in those small moments and you were on your smartphone.

2- Mandate manners. Manners are SUPER important in this world, believe it or not. I taught children for fifteen years at our church. Know the kids I naturally feel more generous to, more favorable to? The ones who say thank you for a piece of candy. The ones who call me "Miss Jill" instead of "Jill." We make Abi answer with "Yes, ma'ams," and "No sirs" when she is answering us. We make her say, "Yes?" instead of "What?" when we call on her. Know the looks and words of affirmation she gets from the cashier at Publix when she responds with "Yes, ma'am" or asks the man bagging our groceries how his day is on her own initiative? Fact is, where manners are, favor follows. And furthermore, what's wrong with teaching children to respect adults? Lord knows this is a dying virtue. I'm bringing it back. Period.

3- Teach them to go the extra mile. Kids have an innate pattern to do what's expected of them. So, it's up to us to expect their best, to draw the best out of them. Hear what I'm saying... not MORE than they can give. We need to demand WHAT they can give. While Abi is doing her homework, and I can see she's writing sloppily or giving 50% of her best, I literally tell her that I'll throw her homework away and she can start over if she can't give her very best. Sound extreme? Perhaps. But I know the boost she gets when she has done her best and can look at a sheet of paper done neatly and properly, versus one she gave little effort to. Until a child understands the pay-off of doing something right, we have to set them up for the pay-off. They won't do it on their own. But eventually, they'll become addicted to the success.

4- Quit with the handouts. My love language is gifts. So, I have to fight the urge to shower Abi with toys, clothes, and whatever else I can get my hands on. It's just innate to me to show her my love through cute things, fuzzy things, and fun things. But I have to reign it in. Giving her whatever her heart desires may be fun and all, but it's not real life. If she sets her heart on something and wants it badly, me rushing out to make it happen is only perpetuating the entitlement mentality that her generation suffers from. Now, does this mean that everything she gets, she has to work for? No. I'm all about gifts. But with BALANCE. She receives an allowance. Not for chores (though she can earn more money for difficult jobs). It's based on her age, ($1 per year), her attitude (her attitude stinks, she loses dollars), and her general level of responsibility. Then, when she sees that $40 toy, she knows she has about 6 weeks of allowance to save in order to get it. May sound sad, but that's real life, people. I ain't raisin' kids to think they can snap their fingers or pull out a credit card and make things happen.

5- Put God in the center on purpose. Those of us who are "Christians" may think that church is the main obligation we have to our children's spiritual health. Quite the contrary, my dearie. Church is an added tool to their health... it is not the main source. The Bible tells us that they should learn first about God "from their mother's knee." God created Adam, Eve, and the kids that followed. The church didn't come for many years later. This is the model He wanted us to follow! Talk about God's faithfulness as you deposit your paycheck. When a child's crying because of a skinned knee, pray first, THEN Band-Aid. Talk to God outloud when you're looking for a parking spot, then thank Him outloud when you find one. Remind your children of things God has done in your family that proves His might. These stories will die when we do if we don't keep them alive.

6- Create a motto for your child's life and speak it over them daily. Every single day, I speak these words to Abi (sometimes twice a day)- "Thank you, Jesus, that Abi is smart, safe, healthy, kind, and obedient. In Jesus' name, Amen." She says it with me. And lately, I've noticed her attaching it to her bedtime prayer on her own. I want MY voice, telling her what HIS voice says about her to be the loudest voice she hears. Because, in all actuality, there will be days she feels less than amazing. My prayer is that these words I've spoken over her for so long will resonate louder than the voices around her or the voices in her adolescent head.

Raising kids is tough. Raising amazing kids is even tougher. But, you know what? Growing old and gray and realizing that those overwhelmingly wonderful and bewildering kids are a product of our parenting (and the grace of a merciful God) will be worth it all. Guaranteed.

My Boy.

Ah, pregnancy. So many things I love about it. And I'm not being sarcastic. I love it that while it took two of us to create this new life, I am the only one who can bake the baby. I love it that I have a constant little tiny companion with me, 24/7, for nine whole months. I love it that tiny tappings I've felt a couple of times will soon turn into flops, rolls, and quick turns that will wake me up at all hours of the night. I love it that Abi talks to my tummy everyday and last night, Rod lay his head on my tummy and spoke to his...

SON.

This means there's a living, squirming being of testosterone floating around in my womb as I write this, already scheming plans to rule the world with his cousin, Legend. This means my heart is about to be ripped out and wrapped around a tiny finger, the way Rod's was seven and a half years ago. This means... more than I can get my head to process, for sure.

So many things about having a girl I love. I mean-- I LOVE having a daughter. There's a connection a mom has to her daughter that surpasses words. It's living my childhood again through her every day. It's the awareness of how she will "need" me in ways a boy doesn't need his mom-- when she has cramps, when she doesn't understand boys, when she is looking for the perfect dress but can't describe it and I just know what she's saying... It's just, well... nothing short of special.

My world, up to this point, has consisted of Barbies, princesses, Hello Kitty, all things pink, purple and teal, lipgloss, fingernail polish, poofy skirts, days of the week monkey underwear, Squinkies, My Little Pony, and little littles (Abi's word for anything tiny).

So, what do I do with My son? I know. I'll figure it out. I know. Boys love their mamas. I know. Boys are easier than girls in a million ways.

All I know is that I love this little boy. As much as his sister, yet so totally different. So, in keeping true with my pattern, I need to tell my little wooly booger a few things today. Bear with me, please. :-)

Dear Walker,

It's Mom. Your incubator and your whole world right now. I'm the one who feeds you yummy things like Honey Nut Chex cereal and Mike and Ike candy. I also give you the bananas you demand, and take snuggly naps with you as my day allows it.

There's alot of things I need you to know, little man. But we have a lifetime to figure it all out. Right off the bat, I need you to know that I've never raised a boy before. Up to now, I've lived in girl world. I have a sister, a younger girl cousin who's like a little sister, and I am raising YOUR sister. So, I'm just a wave in the sea of estrogen. I'm girl through and through.

I hate reptiles and amphibians. They are not cute and you won't have them as pets in our house. Outside, sure. Garage, pushing it. In your room and it's off with your head. I will pretend to like movies like: Cars, Pirates of the Caribbean, GI Joe, Transformers, and Marvel comic movies. (KEYWORD: PRETEND). I do not care at all about baseball, soccer, or basketball. But for you, I'll become a professional fan. Oh, and I know we touched on the reptile/amphibian issue, but let me be clear. Snakes are evil, gross, and I treat all of them as poisonous, even if they are "grass snakes," "corn snakes," or "black snakes." And if you try to sneak one in the house and I find it, I will chop its head off with no hesitation, even if it's your lifelong pet.

I think, all that said, you and I will get along just fine. I will kiss every boo-boo you ever have. Football season? I'm your girl. I'll make sure you and your entire entourage have more food than you can possibly eat on one game day. In fact, your friends will think food is the language spoken in our home. There'll always be lots of it and good stuff at that.

I will show you how to take care of yourself and not be a total wimp your whole life. That will include things like: cleaning up your mess, putting your gross laundry where it belongs, operating the washer and dryer, clearing off the table, and making your own sandwich when you're hungry. Oh, and this will happen before the age of 10. Much before.

I'm not going to like your girlfriends very much, I'll just tell you that. But I'll play nice because one day, one of those very lucky girls will be your wife and the mother of my grandchildren. In the meantime, I have alot to teach you about girls. But mainly, I have alot to show you about how to attract the RIGHT girl. If you just look for HER, the others won't get in the way so much. And your sister will help with that, too. She's in love with you pretty bad. She'll be your first love. I know it's gross, but trust me. She'll be the prettiest girl you've ever seen for many years. Well, the second prettiest. ;-)

I don't need much from you. Moms are just like that. We give alot and don't ask for much in return. But here's a few things I do ask. Love God with all your heart, soul, and mind. Treat girls with respect, all the time. Rely on your daddy's wisdom because he has more than you'll ever comprehend. Call me and I will always come get you. Kiss me your whole life through. Hold your Gia's hand when you walk with her,even if you're 25. Once you become an adult, don't tell me everything you and Legend did together. Come home every Christmas.

Oh, and one more thing-- Heaven? Just be there.

I love you, Walker Windham. Save this letter. You'll appreciate it one day.

Mom

I Don't Get It...

One thing's for sure about parenting.

Ok, two.

One- it's a never ending puzzle to solve. And two- sometimes, you won't even know where the puzzle pieces are.

Parenting is fun, isn't it? I'm not being sarcastic. Mostly. I mean, before we had kids, life was generally predictable and (**yawn**) boring. But boring now? HA. When time does slow down long enough for me to catch up on my DVR, I almost fall asleep. So "boring" and "predictable" are not in my vocab and haven't been for almost eight years now.

One of the many, many things about parenting that I enjoy is the complexity of it all. There's many things I've figured out. Like when Abi asks, "Which shirt should I wear," she's simply asking me so she can see if we think alike. Or when she says, "I'm hungry" after dinner, that's code for, "I'd like dessert now." I know her favorite color changes every few months or so. She hates to sleep in her bedroom. How to negotiate a plan before she even realizes what hit her strong will.

But there's oh-so-many other things I cannot figure out.

...like- how she can be on one end of our 2800 square foot house and I can be on the total other side, but the MINUTE I shut the bathroom door with church mouse quiet and stealth precision, she manifests.

...like- how in the WORLD I look like I'm 5 months pregnant already even though I've only gained 5.5 lbs.

...like- why I can clean the whole house and never hear a peep from her while she's in her room all day but the second I lie down to close my eyes, she suddenly needs a snack, a tag cut out of her shorts, a Band-Aid, or something off the top shelf of her closet.

...like- how something so sweet can turn on you like a spitting cobra at the drop of a hat if her shirt is too scratchy.

...like- how my heart can burst with love for a child that currently looks like a teddy graham/jelly bean/cocktail shrimp.

...like- how no matter how old Abi gets, I peek in on her every time I get up to use the bathroom, just to see her sleep.

...like- how I can be so done with her I feel like my skin will catch on fire if I am touched again, yet miss her instantly when she leaves me.

...like- how I summon my psychic mommy powers to find a miniature rubber pig the size of a dime in a bedroom that looks like Toys-R-Us on Black Friday.

...like- what the heck it is that happens between waking up cheerfully and time to put her hair up in a ponytail that goes so very awry.

...like- how in the world you can't make it through a movie without needing to pee but look at the clock at noon and realize the last time you actually peed was at 2:00 am.

...like- how Dora can ask the same question over and over and STILL not get the answer right, even though your preschooler is shouting the answer loud enough for the guys on the International Space Station to hear her.

...like- how she can seem so mature but every single day when I watch her walk into school, it looks like the first day of kindergarten all over again.

...like- why a child who eats broccoli, asparagus, hot sauce, and green beans will not touch corn.

...like- how the same day that began with you watching Daybreak News at 5:00 AM while feeding a baby will also end with you watching the 11:00 PM late news while you're yet again feeding a baby.

...like- how you can think things you ask God for forgiveness for one minute and then things that make you cry with joy the next minute about the same child who weighs 20 pounds.

...like- how you can crave a bean burrito from Taco Bell with all your heart and soul and yet miraculously be satisfied by a PBJ, of which you only get the crusts.

...like- how more and more little girls' shorts in stores are no bigger than underwear. Don't. Get. On. A. Tangent. Jill. Please.

...like- why the goal of the game is to train our children to leave us. Boo hiss.

...like- exactly HOW those Goldfish crackers got UNDERNEATH the infant carseat that weighs more than a small teenager, and STILL did not get crushed.

...like- how it is that the first sight of a runny nose can send terrible shivers down your spine.



...and like- what did I do before I had these little ones to worry about, manage, kiss, and chew on?

...and what will I do when they don't need me anymore?

Oh, I know. We'll travel to wherever they are and pour the next part of our lives into our friendship with them. (We get to be friends one day!!!!!!!!!)
But for now, mysteries prevail. And I'm the greatest detective there ever was. ;-)

Dear Baby.

Yep, baby. As in a new person. Tiny, squishy, and approximately the size of a poppy seed. With a face forming, four chambers of the heart pumping blood, and the fingerprints of God all over her... or him.

And growing in my womb as we speak.

I'm pregnant. I found out yesterday morning at approximately 6:09 am. And the moment I saw two lines, I fell deeply and passionately in love all over again.

Suffice to say, I am both full of words and all out of words at the same time. Physically, I feel quite different, yet not a whole lot. Mentally, I am preparing myself to start over. I'm going from a child who can wipe her own bottom to a child who will literally milk me for all I've got.

Following my typical form, I must get some words out. Some, I'll keep to myself and ponder in my heart. Some I'll only share with my husband. My mom. My sister.

But here's what I need my tater tot to know right this moment as the Master is knitting her/him together in my innermost parts.

Dear Baby,

I am your mom. Yep, God chose you and I to meet up this side of Heaven to love each other and walk this earth together. I'm the one who is lending her body to you, to incubate you as best I can from the realities of a world that is less than perfect, so you can become the creation God is fashioning you to be. Did you know His hand is on you? Well, it is. Literally. He is shaping you, making you in His image. He spoke a wonderful language into you called DNA. It's a big deal, this stuff. But it's really just God's plan, mapped out through your body from your head to your feet.

Speaking of feet, you don't have any yet. But you will. And they will take you many places through your life. They will run to me when you fall off your bike, and run away from me when you don't want to put your diaper back on. They will take you through thirteen years of school and will walk you into your college dorm room as your dad and I drive away and leave you and your feet there. They could possibly take you to a foreign land to serve your country or preach the Gospel, as it's in your blood to do both. (This is a matter I plan on taking up with your Creator soon.)

You are entering a family that is, um... unique. You'll spend unbelievable amounts of time with them, when most of your friends are spending time goofing off and creating trouble. Get used to it. This is your life. And these people will be your best friends for all your life. I promise. Your grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins... all waiting for you to take you place among them.

Your daddy is a manly man. He's a cowboy through and through. If you're a boy, he'll be your dream daddy. You'll shoot guns, swing axes, and build treehouses with your bare hands before you're 8. He'll teach you how to manage your money, treat women with respect and dignity, and how to guard your heart from temptation. And if you're a girl... Well, you're in for the ride of your life. He will romance you until he takes his last breath. He will be fiercely protective of your every move. And you will think he's the most handsome man you've ever seen. Because he will be.

Then, there's your sister. She's quite a treasure. I love her very much. You're blessed to have her ahead of you. She is wise beyond her years, sensitive to your needs, and is compassionate to a fault. But she's also a litttttttle bit hardheaded. So don't expect to waltz into her room and make yourself at home. She doesn't operate like that- neither in her room or in her life. But don't worry- you'll make yourself at home in her heart. In fact, I think you're already doing that. Your sister has prayed for you and waited for you when, honestly, I sat you aside at times. Oh, don't worry. You were never out of my mind. Especially with your sister around. She has included you in prayers, mealtime, conversations, and in her dreams for years now. One day, she'll be the best friend you've ever had. I promise.

Let's get back to me. I'm the one that matters most to you right now, I guess, since you're burrowing a hole in my organs, getting all snuggly and cozy for our journey. I will love you differently from everyone else. Not more, just differently. I'm the one whose voice you'll hear in a few weeks, as I sing on the stage with all that loud music. You'll hear me scold your sister for turning the TV up too loudly. You'll hear me and your Aunt Lori laugh incredibly often. You'll hear me in the early morning hours, speaking God's word over you. You'll hear "I love you" said alot, to your daddy and your sister. I'm the one who will make most of your meals, pack most of your lunches, and be on most of your fieldtrips. I'm the one you'll cry out for when you wake up with a hurting tummy in the middle of the night. I'm the one who knew you were here first... even if it was only a few seconds before I awoke Daddy.

But I'm also the one who will make the most mistakes every single day of your life.

I can't promise you that you'll always like me. In fact, if you like me all the time, I'm doing something wrong. Oh, but don't worry. I'll fix it. I have no problem being your mom. We'll be friends later. But for now, I have a HUGE job to do. And your daddy's job is even bigger. We don't know what we're doing all the time, but that's okay. We know the One who DOES know. And we ask Him for help all the time.

Little baby, your life was bought with a price. Long before you were placed in my tummy, your Creator sent His most special Son to die for your eternity. I know you can't possibly understand my words right now. But I have to tell you... I love knowing that while you're swimming away in there, He's speaking mysteries to you, revealing His plan for your future to your heart. You are loved, you are treasured, you are valued, and you are His.

You're also MINE.

There's so much I want to say to you. But we have time. I have a little less than eight months to get your world ready for you. And speaking of the world... it's a beautiful place. There's many people here that will love you and care for you. Some won't. But that's okay (and if your Gia finds out who they are, she'll probably beat them up. You'll understand this later.) Anyway. The world is waiting for you to be a part of it.

Our family is waiting for you to be a part of it.

This past Christmas, we hung your ornament on the tree. This year, you'll be getting closer to being here with us.

You make my heart leap, little one. I love you forever. And ever.

And even after that.

Mom

Parents on Trial

Those of you who live in the other 49 states aren't graced with the privilege (sarcasm) of having the Casey Anthony Trial taking over your daytime TV programming. Those of us in central Florida are. And while I'm at work most of the week while the trial is on, the days I am home, I find myself like most of my fellow comrades-- glued to the TV like a moth to a flame.

Funny, isn't it? How we are attracted to public displays of shame and failure, like a sideshow for a circus? Don't get me wrong. This is what we call "due process," and it's actually one of the beautiful things about our country. We, the taxpayers, have a right to witness a trial by jury, paid for by our taxes, and when it's something of this nature (relating to the well-being or death of a child), it's especially close to our hearts and especially magnetizing to our attention.

We each have our own reasons for watching. Some to see Casey "put on her charade." Some so that we have something to talk about around the coffeepot at work the next day. Some feel the need to "monitor" the process, making sure justice is being served for Caylee's sake. I'm pretty sure all of us are just plain old interested in this trial, period. All that said, aside from the nosyness I have like everybody else, I think I have finally pinpointed why my heart and mind are so drawn to this trial.

I have a need to find out where this all went wrong for Casey.

As a parent, as a parenting coach, as a student of parenting... where did Casey get forgotten? Let's get one thing out of the way right now. I totally believe Casey Anthony killed her daughter, Caylee Marie. I totally believe it was not accidental, not a spur-of-the-moment plan, but a premeditated act of desperation to get what she saw as a "hindrance" out of her life. I also believe that while we may have gotten to where we are because of the decisions of our parents, we stay where we are by OUR choices. So, regardless of what did or did not take place in her childhood (I do not believe she was molested by father, but let's just say she was...), that taking the life of a child is NEVER excusable. EVER. If you do not agree with me about Casey's guilt, that is totally okay with me... believe me. I have NO problem agreeing to disagree. So, please refrain from starting debates and the like because you don't share my verdict. This is the beauty of humanity... we can differ and still coexist.

That said, how does a mother who has felt a child move inside her body, ushered new life into this world, looked into the eyes of that child and felt sincere love and appreciation for her, two years later map out a plan to extinguish that life as if it never existed? How does a mother who has fed, bathed, nurtured, and sheltered that child turn her heart so against her that she not only willed her dead, but also followed through with it? How? HOW????

Watching the trial, one thing has become painfully obvious to the world. The Anthony family has built a majority of their lives around lies- whether they be Casey's, or their own family secrets. Stories are continually changing, and Casey is forever rolling her eyes and shaking with anger at her parents as they move forward with any version of the story that contradicts the drowning theory or the plethora of other falsities Casey has conjured up. It's clear through their testimonies that Casey was raised to get her way, as her attitudes and fits often proved too much for her parents to handle, even into her adulthood. She was given a car, didn't do the laundry in her parents house where she lived as an ADULT, and shirked primary care for her daughter to her mother, Cindy.

There are no perfect parents. Believe me-- I know this. And if there were a list of perfect parents, I do not in any shape, form, or fashion even pretend my name would make the top 1000. But I can tell you this. Watching the pain these parents have gone and are going through has made me do an inventory on my own parenting, because it is my heart's cry to NEVER see my daughter at the mercy of a justice system, especially if the origin of the offense was at her own hand. Because no matter which way you cut it, I would have had a hand in her downfall, somewhere, somehow.

So how then? How do we avoid sitting on the witness stand someday as our child faces death row charges? How do we keep from being the one with our hand on the Bible, testifying before God that our word is true, in hopes to save our child's life? Well, that answer may not be as cut and dry as one would hope. See, God did everything right with Adam and Eve, and they STILL chose to sin. We won't do it all right. But if you're like me, you have to go to sleep at night with the assurance that you aren't raising a child capable of the offense of taking her own child's life to simplify her own. And I don't have all the answers. But here's a few convictions that I KNOW will help deter my children's path from becoming that of Miss Anthony's.

1. LIVE TRUTH AT ALL COSTS. A Bible verse my parents mandated was Psalm 15:4- "He swears to his own hurt and doesn't change." This is as basic as making your child finish a sports season he starts, even if the coach is unfair and your child is being done wrong. Commitment is something our kids have little concept of and it's because we as parents don't make them follow through with anything! We live in an attention deficit time, where we bounce around from event to event, person to person, and don't stick with anything. When you make a commitment, FOLLOW THROUGH, for Heaven's sake. And if your child promises her favorite shoes to her friend, guess what she's obligated to give her even after giver's remorse kicks in? This will teach our kids that their word is their name. And a good name is all you've got.

2. EVALUATE HOW EASY YOU'VE MADE LIFE FOR YOUR KIDS. I'm not talking about going home and ripping the Xbox out and throwing it in the garbage can. I'm saying, when your kids say, "I want a drink of water," do you hop to the kitchen for them? Five year olds and up are capable of tending to many of their own needs, but sadly, we have boys and girls at 12 who utter a wish and their parents float to the need at the drop of a hat. This in turn produces entitlement, and entitlement produces nothing but laziness and ungratefulness.

3. STOP SHELTERING YOUR CHILDREN FROM CONSEQUENCES. If I decided today to drive 80 mph down Highway 441, and I get pulled over and ticketed, I can have an attitude all I want to with the reporting officer. But the fact remains, I DID IT TO MYSELF. But see, we fight too many battles for our kids, so when they are 16 and facing the law itself, they expect to be bailed out like they were the other 43,219 times we bailed them out. There isn't a defense in the world to protect our children from our negligence, which we inflict when we skirt issues, sweep them under the rug, and remove consequences from our kids when they are 3. This applies to constantly taking their forgotten lunch box to them, dropping our lives for procrastinated book reports, and simply running when they demand it.

4. SUBMIT YOUR BEST EFFORTS AND TRUST GOD TO COVER YOUR MISTAKES. We would be shocked what would happen in our homes if we would just give our best and apologize for our worst. We aren't expected to do it all right. We ARE, however, expected to be REAL. Apologize. Forgive. Close the past's doors. Open the future's new ones. At best, we may do 50% right. But the good news is, love covers a multitude of sins. When you blow it, admit it to your children. Even if this means saying to them, "I have been too easy on you, and I ask for your forgiveness." God, in His infinite mercy and grace, can right alot of wrongs if we're willing to work the plan.

5. STAY PLUGGED INTO THEIR LIVES. Know their inner circles by name. Foster openness and communication. Ask questions without pre-planned answers. Listen to their music with them without preaching a sermon, and afterwards ask "What do you like about that?" Do silly and ridiculous things with them, just for fun. Eat ice cream for dinner and pizza for breakfast. Blow up air mattresses and sleep in the living room for a movie marathon. Take them with you one-on-one to run errands. This is the stuff that helps us keep tabs on our kids without them knowing what we're doing.

There was a day when you weren't a parent. And then literally overnight, you became one. Remember that moment? Whether you pushed a seven pound bundle of goo and screams into the world or you were handed your child by a guardian or state worker... that moment, I would dare say, was one of the most defining moments of your life. You silently took an oath to protect, nuture, and grow that child to the best of your ability, willing to lay your life down at any moment for him. Between that moment and the day they enter college, there are many obstacles, many hurdles, and many failures. But there are MANY triumphs, MANY victories, and MANY happy tears.

I keep thinking of Casey. The day she held her Caylee for the first time. I know that in that moment, she loved that baby with all her might, soul, and strength. But the harsh reality is that it's what happened between when Cindy held CASEY for the first time and that fateful 2008 day that really mattered.