The Fairy-tale I have come to hate... (Sept. 23, 2018)

I hate the story of Cinderella...where abuse is romanticized. For a time, she is this helpless victim trapped in a horrible situation and told to deal with it with a smile and "have courage and be kind".

But this woman was abused!!! Treated like trash. There wouldn't be a complete happy ending just cuz she got out of the situation by getting married. Where are the parts where after she's married, she wakes up in the middle of the night barely able to breathe because she just relived her past in her dreams and again she feels trapped and helpless. Where is the real stuff?!

When you've been abused, it doesn't just go away because you are no longer in the situation, no, it stays. You battle it in your mind every day. Some days are good days, some not so good. It's pretty impossible to control.

I hate Cinderella because I understand her and what she went through too much. And there is nothing romantic about that story.

At least she got justice though. At least her abusers were made to pay in some way for the hurt they caused her, but even that only happens in a fairytale.

In real life, some times people get away with abusing others and live on to do it until the day they die. Sometimes they abuse you in the name of Jesus and it can make you mad or even wonder if they actually have the security of a heavenly home cuz you feel they don't deserve it. But none of us deserve it. That's what's it's all about. Giving grace to others even if they don't give it to you. Forgiving even when they've never repented. But still there is a desire to see some kind of justice, but I doubt that desire is any good; it's probably just the old man wanting some kind of revenge. Better to leave the justice in the hands of God.   

God gives the power to forgive when you've never been apologized to. He gives peace and grace when you feel trapped. He rescues you. He tells you it will be okay when you are shaking so much in fear that you can't breathe. God brings your mind back to the present and reminds you that you are safe. He reminds you of your beautiful family and all He has blessed you with. He reminds you that He's got your back. He reminds you that even when you feel alone and like you have no one, you are never alone cuz He's always with you. He has NEVER abandoned you. He has always been loyal and faithful. He can be trusted. God is there. He will get you through.

Bullied for Breastfeeding (May 5, 2019)

Have you ever been bullied for breastfeeding? Have people tried to shame you because you choose to feed your child with the resources that God gave you? Some have been blessed to be able to breastfeed while some can't.  Breastfeeding is hard work in itself, but it's even harder with the added burden of being put to shame for doing it.

I have been and am currently being bullied because I breastfeed in public. I do so with a cover. No one can see any nakedness, but still I get dirty looks and have to endure the awkward "touchy" conversations. Instead of being encouraged to feed my baby and supported for doing what is right and caring for my child, I am being gossipped about and put under a shameful light. And now I just gotta say it...

Boobs are for babies!!!

Did you miss that? Let me say it again a little louder...

BOOBS ARE FOR BABIES!!!!

It's not a sexual act! So, I've been told that my breastfeeding is a stumbling block to men. Not by men mind you, but by women who apparently feel the need to speak for the nameless faceless men. No men have ever come to talk with my husband, but I've had several ladies come and talk with me about "my sin". How am I sinning you might ask? Well, I don't believe I'm in any kind of sin, but I'm told that I am being a stumbling block and to be one is a sin. I have been told that I should leave the room when I breastfeed for the sake of the men. And I refuse to do so. I refuse to be the one put to shame when I am doing nothing wrong and my intent is only to feed my child.

Some say that my breastfeeding causes men to think dirty thoughts so I should care enough about them and leave the room. No, I'm not doing it. If a man looks at me with my cover on and thinks dirty thoughts, I have no control over that; and I say if they have a problem, they should leave the room because they are the one who is in sin. I say, stop condoning the sin and making the person who isn't in sin change their ways. Counsel the true sinner to change his or her ways.

Also, I have a question, do these same men go to the beach and see women in bathing suits? Yeah, they do and I guess that isn't a stumbling block for them. (Let that one sink in.) But you are telling me that I'm a stumbling block to them because I use my breast to nurture my child and give them life. No, I am not the problem. I say if a man is thinking dirty because he sees a mother feeding her child, he should leave the room. He should be dealt with. He is the one in sin and he is the one who needs to be counseled. He's the one who needs to endure the "touchy" conversations. I say if a woman has issues with a mother feeding her child, she should leave the room. Let the person who is in sin do what they need to do to flee. Don't make the ones who are doing nothing wrong leave the room.

Stop shaming the breastfeeding mothers!!! Stop gossipping about them!!! Stop having the awkward conversations with the mother and start having them with the men!!!Start teaching your sons that breastfeeding is not sexual!! Stop teaching them that boobs are so sexual and only sexual, I mean sure they can be used for sexual pleasure, but they are ultimately for a mother to feed her child and that is a beautiful, God supported act. And there is nothing sexual about a mother feeding her baby!!!

And, dear mothers, if you are being shamed for breastfeeding, please don't let anyone bully you out of it. Don't leave the room. Don't listen to them. You are doing nothing wrong!  What you are doing is beautiful and God supports you. If you need support because someone is treating you poorly because you won't leave the room to breastfeed or do it the way they want you to, Stand Your Ground. Find support and listen to the sweet mother's voices who understand what that is like and stand together with them to put an end to this shaming and breastfeed bullying. Ignore the nay sayers and keep on doing what you are doing because you are in the right here. If you need support, come chat with me, girl, I'll have your back.

And you mothers who are shaming other mothers, repent and change your ways. Be more loving. Educate yourselves. Stop making the breastfeeding mothers feel uncomfortable. Get some counseling. And remember that boobs are for babies. 

Time - My Enemy (Sept. 18, 2019)

Lately, Time has felt like my enemy. It's something that I just never have enough of. Days, weeks, months and years just zip by often leaving me behind. I have an alarm on my phone for everything; every hour of every day is filled to the max. Time is so bossy. It pushes me forward to the next thing when I haven't finished the first. Yet at the same time, I'm often feeling like I'm swimming up current. Like Time is moving so fast, yet I can't reach it. I can't keep up with it. I'm fighting to move forward, yet not moving very quickly. I don't wanna blink else I might miss something. Time, are you my enemy? I believe you are. In not time at all, I'll be older, my kids will be older. All that I now know will be gone. Take as my pics as I can, but that all I'll have left and maybe a few memories, but this time will fade. Time is a thief. Time is pain. The speed of life can make one feel a little hopeless, even purposeless. Time is money - time is valuable. It's something I want so much more of, yet I can't grasp it. I can't have more. I've only got what I have been given and idk how much that is. Time is like currency, but at least with currency there is more of an absolute. If one puts in the time at work, one will come home knowing you will have a reward for your labors, but it's not so with time. With time, there are no promises, no guarantees. Time can cause depression. When you reach a certain age and you haven't accomplished the life goals you thought you would by now. Time can feel like a bully.

So what is the answer? How do we defeat the enemy called Time? How do we find hope as we watch it push us forward into new things we don't feel ready for? How do we have patience for something as we watch years pass and can't see God at work? How do we sit and wait it out and just be still when Time is robbing us of what we want?

There is something that can defeat this enemy. It's God. I can look to Him. I can trust Him. I can hand my time over to Him and wait on Him. I can believe in His Word and His goodness. I will believe that He works everything out for my good. I will believe in His precious promise of an eternity with Him and fellow believers. I will find my hope in Him. I will share my thoughts, cares and burdens to Him. I will lean on Him when I couldn't finish my duties because I lacked time or energy. He is the only way. He is the only One able to defeat the enemy of Time. Time is no match for Him. He is my answer. He is my hope. I will trust Him in this fast-paced season. I will trust Him when it comes to Time.

God's Hidden Treasure (Oct. 31, 2019)

A time of finding the hidden treasure in a place where there only appears to be death and sorrow, that's what I need to do. God has something beautiful in mind, I don't want to miss it because of my sinful, near-sighted eyes. God uses the hurt for His Glory and right now I'm as low as I've been in a while. But I cannot surrender to the low. I cannot let the devil think he won. His wins are only for a season. God will step in. He already has and He will keep stepping in. He will be my comfort. He will use the pain for good. That is what He does and the devil's mouth is stopped in the presence of THE MIGHTY GOD. One day, God will have his head. One day he will be under God's wrath forever and ever. Death, sin and pain is nothing to celebrate about. But I will celebrate over what God will do and has done about death, sin and pain. I will celebrate over the fact that one day, the devil, death and sin will be no more!!! One day, I'll enter heaven's shore and I'll meet Jesus face to face and all of this pain will be nothing compared to the joy I will feel on that day. Therein lies my hope.

A Letter to the Past Year (Jan. 1, 2020)

The Year 2019,

I'm kinda glad to see you go. You were hard. I grew a lot during your year, but I don't want to go back. God had been on my case about alot of my sin and He gave me a lot of victories. I was tested in a way I had never been before. The Devil thought he had me, but God.

You brought me alot of pain as well as so many beautiful, unforgettable moments. There were ashes and so much beauty and some ashes were even turned into beauty.

God sustained me during everything that was thrown my way. God helped me deal with the root of this anger that had been controlling me. He taught me how to let go of people and how it would set me so free. He taught me about grief and how I have been grieving for a long time - it was the root to so many struggles I had been having. He taught me about great loss, yet again.

2019, you have changed me so much. I walk into 2020 a new person that I don't really know yet. I walk in a little afraid of the new person I'll become. I want her to be holy. I want her to know real joy and I want her to keep loving and trusting her God with everything she has.

Like Peter said "To Whom else can we go? You have the words of eternal life!"

That verse has been in my mind every day that I wake up a little upset with God and His plan for me. But in my pain, I know that only He can comfort me. Only He can bring healing. So I find myself worshiping Him even more and bursting into Hymns and my own songs and lyrics as I just pour out my heart and hurt to Him and then comes a wave of comfort that I never knew I could experience. In those moments, I know I'm gonna be okay. I want the "new me" to be "okay" I don't really expect anything higher from her but if she can reach a place in 2020 where she feels okay again, I'll be really proud of her.

Most days, I wake up feeling pretty disappointed in her. I look her in the mirror and tell her that she's a horrible person - I point out all of the mistakes she's made the day before and tell her she's a mess and she's never gonna get through this and if she's not careful she's gonna lose all the good things she's still got; I look at her and say "You are not okay. You're probably never gonna be okay again." So if she wakes up feeling good about herself at some point in 2020, I'll feel proud of her and grateful to God because this is a work that only He can do and maybe He'll do it in 2020.

It's not just the soul of this girl that's hurting and broken. Her body has taken a beating, as well. She's put on so much weight. She's ugly on the outside, too. She can't seem to stop herself from eating her feelings. Some days she doesn't even care. So in 2020, if she'll take a hold of her health again and have victory over eating and start thinking about food properly again, I'll be proud of her. If she loses a little weight, I'll be proud of her. If God could help her with that I'd be grateful.     

I have many hopes for the New 2020 Me. I have many prayers for her. If it were just up to her, I wouldn't even bother, but since she knows God and He is her loving Father, there is hope for her. She's not a lost cause and I'm going to step into 2020 hopeful and expecting My God to turn her ashes into beauty - to make what is ugly beautiful again - because with Him, nothing is impossible. 

Goodbye, Old 2019 Me, make way for The New 2020 Me.

They Tell Me... (Feb. 1, 2020)

For my babies Enoch and Elijah,

They tell me that I have to let myself grieve, but they don't tell me how.

They tell me to get some rest, but not about the sleepless nights I'll lie awake thinking of you.

They tell me that you're safe in Jesus' arms, but not about the loneliness I'll feel being without you.

They tell me that when you opened your eyes for the first time, the first thing you saw was Jesus' face, but not how I'll feel angry that it wasn't mine. I wanted to be the first person you saw; I wanted to hold you in my arms, look into your tiny eyes and tell you how beautiful you are.

They tell me that I will see you again, but not how deeply sorrowful I will feel to have lost you until then.

They tell me that it wasn't meant to be, but not how to fight the pain of accepting what is.

They tell me they're so sorry and try to act like they aren't worried about my bad luck rubbing off on them, but I can see the fear in their eyes and they don't tell me how I'll feel like the death angel won't ever leave my side.

They tell me that I need to find peace and comfort in God, but not how often I'll have to do so.

They tell me it's not my fault, but not how often I'm gonna believe it was.

They tell me that maybe God is trying to tell me something, but not that the act of love in marriage and every single child and life that it bears are a gift from God.

They tell me that I need to take a break, but they don't know the steps I've taken or that it's really none of their business.

They tell me that it's good that it happened earlier, rather than later, but not how long I will feel this emptiness.

They tell me that you are gone, but not why it feels like you are still growing inside me.

They tell me that my body will be out of wack, but not about the food cravings, the phantom kicks, the engorgement, the hormones, or the chills.

They tell me that it will get better, but they don't know that the moment I knew you were there, you were with me everyday - in my every thought. Or how I started to dream and make plans for you and wonder about you growing up and who'd you'd become.

They tell me and tell me, but now I've stopped listening, because I know that nothing they say will make anything better.

Peter's Birth Story - Our First Home Birth

With Peter, I finally got my dream birth! He was born at home and he was born quickly. Here's the story...

I had had contractions off and on throughout the night. I woke up at 5:30 AM with a “bloody show”. I decided to get up, go downstairs, and eat a little something: toast with grape jam and water. After eating, I labored some on the couch in my living room, but when my boys woke up earlier than normal and began to get rowdy and loud, I decided to move upstairs to the nursery and labor in the rocker. I sat in the rocker and rocked at first, but that became unbearable, so I got on my knees, laid my head in the rocker's seat and rocked back and forth as I worked through each contraction. I had consistent contractions from 5:30 to 6:40 about 7-10 min apart.

Maybe around 8am, I started to feel a lot of pressure, so, in my not wanting to make a mess on the nursery floor, I went to the toilet. I thought that maybe my water was breaking or I had a bowel movement. While there, I shut the door and the windows, because I live in a duplex. Little did I know that Peter was coming and very fast at that. Sitting over the toilet, I began to have very intense contractions. I was in transition but didn't know it until I reached down and felt Peter's head!

Oh boy! He was coming, and I was alone. I called out several times for Isaiah from the toilet, but he did not come. So I stood up, walked to the door, opened it, and called him again — still no answer. I walked out into the hallway and called again — still, he did not come. I finally gave up, walked back into the bathroom, sat on the toilet and gave birth to Peter on my own. He flew right out and landed in the toilet. I immediately scooped him out. It frightened me that he wasn't crying and appeared to be asleep, so I laid him on his belly over my arm and gently patted his back until he made a tiny wail. I stood up again, walked out into the hall, and called for Isaiah again — and he still didn't come. I sat on the toilet again and delivered the placenta. I then laid Peter against my chest and looked around for something to keep him warm. We had just washed the towels the day before, so there were no towels in the bathroom; the only thing within my reach was my hand towel, which didn't cover him all the way, but I figured it was better than nothing. I was in my nightgown, but it was so wet and kind of cold that I took it off and laid him against my body instead.

It was at this moment that I realized I had my phone beside me the whole time. I decided to call my midwife. She was in her car already on the way. I gave her the run down, and she said Peter sounded fine and assured me that everything was okay. She asked where Isaiah was, and I said that I didn't know. I told her it never occurred to me to call him, though I had my phone with me the whole time. I was so wrapped up in the moment. She instructed me to hang up with her, call Isaiah, and then to call her back. I called Isaiah.

He answered, “Hello”

I said, "Um, I need you, I have the baby in my arms".

He hung up, and I called my midwife again and put her on speaker phone.

Isaiah finally came!! And his mother was right behind him. He just stood at the door, I guess not knowing what to do next. The bathroom floor was wet with waters and some blood, and there I was on the toilet in my birthday suit with Peter in my arms. It was probably a bit of a shock for him. He said later that he felt disappointed with himself for not being there for me, but he was caring for our other children, so I don't hold it against him — it's just how it happened. Mom was ready to help in anyway she could. Paula instructed us on what we should do next. Mom started to clean up the floor, but Paula asked her to leave it all there so that she could see how much fluid/blood I had lost. Paula instructed us to get me into my bed. So Mom left for a moment to get Hannah so that she could hold Levi while Isaiah and she worked. When she came back, she and Isaiah covered my bed. Isaiah put on a pair of gloves, got the hospital basin that we had saved from Levi's birth, had me stand up so that he could put the placenta into it and carry it behind me as I made my way to the bed with Peter still in my arms. Once we got to the bed, I had Peter nurse, and we stayed there waiting for my midwife to come. At that point, Hannah and Mom left to take the boys, who had been waiting down in the car with their Pappy and the girl cousins to go to the Train Museum.

My midwife finally arrived; she looked over me and said that I had torn a bit. I had torn with my first 3 children and needed stitches, and I dreaded needing them again. I asked her if I needed stitches; begged of her not to give me them unless I absolutely needed them, and she decided that I didn't need them as long as I would rest and keep my legs uncrossed. That I could do. It was a victory to me to not need stitches. They have always been worse to me than the birth experience. Yay for no stitches!!! My midwife's helper showed up shortly and they began the work of cleaning up the bathroom and hallway mess. My midwife showed us the placenta, Peter got dressed, and we cuddled some more to keep him warm. I handed him off to Isaiah, so that I could get a shower. After that, Peter got his full check up. He weighed in at 11lbs and was 22 inches long. We didn't know the exact time he was born, so we went with 8:35 am on a Saturday morning in May 2017.

In case you are wondering where Isaiah was during Peter's birth, here's his perspective on the whole thing:

As I was calling for Isaiah, he was outside talking with the neighbors, and the boys were running back and forth on the porch. He didn't hear me over the cars and the boys. He sent Nehemiah and Valiant in to go potty, but none of them heard me calling. Then Isaiah's Parents, Hannah, and her girls showed up outside to take Nehemiah and Valiant to the Train Museum. So he went to help them get into the car. I was on the phone with Paula, and Isaiah heard that but still didn't come up. So I called Isaiah on his phone and told him "I need you, I have the baby in my arms" in which case he finally came and mom came behind him, and she helped clean up the blood and waters that were all over the floor. I was sitting on the toilet with baby in arms and Placenta in the toilet. Isaiah and mom put covers on the bed so Peter and I could be more comfortable until the midwife came. Mom went to get Hannah so that she could hold Levi while they worked. Midwife Paula was on her way but had no GPS so she was getting a bit lost and Isaiah had to give her directions. Mom and Hannah left before Midwife came. Paula came, and Mary Ellen came a bit later.