by Amy | May 22, 2013 | mama confessions
Don’t you love it when you learn something completely unexpected from a situation you’ve been placed in?
This week, my husband’s job took him out of town for the first time ever. I was excited for him, but somewhat overwhelmed by the idea that I would be alone with our two children, ages 4 1/2 and 2 for three straight days. I realize this is nothing for many women out there, but for me, this was huge! My husband helps out so much, and truthfully, I don’t even want to use the word “help” because he really is one of those husbands who voluntarily shares the responsibility of raising our children. He does work outside of the home during the week, but when he is home in the evenings, he does a lot with the kids as well as around the house.
I knew I would miss him, his presence and his help while he was gone, but one thing I did not realize was how much I needed him to leave us alone for a few days for me to gain some much-needed perspective. Let me explain by backing up just a bit…
I am and from as far back as I can remember, always have been, addicted to ambition. Now, that doesn’t mean I’ve always been successful. I’ve failed at a lot of things in life for sure. Whew, have I failed! But I truly am a creative soul who loves to pursue, to be challenged, to contemplate, to work at things, develop ideas and do. I love doing. And there has always been something about tapping into my creativity that has given me so much joy and inspiration. I crave it. I need it. I love it!
I put off having children for a long time for this very reason. I knew that having kids would put a temporary hold on my creative endeavors and ambitions, and I wasn’t ready for that. When my husband and I did finally settle into the idea of having kids, I was 33 and finally felt somewhat satisfied with all I had attempted and been successful at doing up until that point. I was ready to just (ha!) be a Mom and see where that road would take me.
Over the past 4 1/2 years, since my first son and then the second son were born, I have really not been able to shake this ambition gene. Even when I would tell myself that the whole career thing didn’t really matter to me and my kids were numero uno, I always knew deep down that there was a huge conflict going on inside of me. I often felt the pang of disappointment when I had to turn opportunities down, and more than once, I was caught off guard by other people’s successes and how they would make me feel. Even though I absolutely loved my children and knew that I had chosen to be a stay-at-home-but-still-sorta-working Mom, I always still felt the tugging of the life I once knew and the validity it gave me and the struggle I faced with having to live on the outskirts of it all.
These past few months, my mind has been literally spinning. I can now take a step back and look at myself in perspective, and I can honestly say that I’ve probably seemed most like a hamster on a wheel. I’ve been running…and running…and running, but in the end, I kind of feel like I’ve arrived nowhere for it all. I’ve been continuing to try and keep my feet wet and working odd and poor paying jobs to keep the money flow, connections and perhaps even a little prestige. I’ve paid good money to have my vocal studio logo and website revamped, even though, when I was honest with myself, I felt strongly at the end of last year that I had lost my passion for it while trying to raise two little boys. I started a new endeavor with this website and have spent countless hours formulating business ideas surrounding the idea of it, but have dropped the ball on many occasions out of sheer exhaustion and overwhelm. I spent another moderate chunk of change getting certified to lead personal renewal groups for women and most recently, I signed up to be a distributor for a product my family and I use.
Truth be told, all of these endeavors are great ones. And I also love singing and reading and cooking and would love to take up sewing and quilting and photography and a good Bible study and beading and. the. list. goes. on. I love the “how-to” section of books at the library. If I allowed myself, I would take home and read through every single one of them. And learn how to. I have a very curious mind that wants to know a lot. It’s a blessing. And a curse.
But here’s the deal…all of these “pursuits” have taken SO much time and focus away from my kids. And I didn’t even realize it. Until this week. Sure, I knew that I was longing for time…that precious time we mothers never get. But when they both went off to preschool 2 days a week, I still felt time-deprived. 1:30pm almost ALWAYS came too soon. I was actually relieved when they got out of school last week, because then I didn’t have to think about efficiently using that TIME anymore. Then there were the weekends. Those longed for weekends when we dreamily imagine that the husband is going to come in on a white horse, swoop up the kids and deliver us from our duties so that we can pursue other, more exciting things outside of wiping snot off of couches, scraping playdo off the floors and folding laundry. But that time would fly by as well, and many Sunday nights were spent silently (or sometimes not so silently) pouting that nothing…nothing I had anticipated accomplishing…had gotten done even after my husband had taken the kids out of my sight for hours on end, to give me: TIME.
In my heart of hearts, I knew that all of this was a choice I had made. I had chosen busy. I had chosen hectic. I had, in essence, chosen my creative endeavors and ambition over being present and raising my children well. I always justified this in my mind by saying that everything comes with a price tag and we have to sacrifice some things in order to gain others, and it was good for them to learn that other people can care for them besides me, and it was important that I had me-time…blah blah blah…, but I knew, deep down, these were all lies I had told myself to justify all the busy-ness…the busy-ness that didn’t include them.
Oddly enough, even when my oldest son went through some pretty serious medical issues a few months back, I was jolted but still not moved enough to really change the way I did things. I knew that I needed to be present and it gave me a sense of feeling like I didn’t have any control, but I still plunged ahead allowing my mind to spin even more aimlessly trying to achieve, to accomplish, to make something happen.
Stay with me as I come back full circle to this week. My husband is gone for a few days. I’m home with the kids alone. I have no other option than to pull the plug on all other endeavors and just be with them. There is no light at the end of the tunnel when the hub finally gets home and relieves me of my duties. There is no other standby to take over when I’m feeling like I JUST CAN’T HANDLE THEM ANYMORE!!! There is just us — the 3 of us (well, 4 if you count the dog…and I do). We’re going through good times and not so good times. We’re here. We’re in the moment. We’re together. And it’s oh so grand! We’re playing with cars and trucks and doing puzzles and playing games. We’re taking long baths and reading books and eating popcorn and playing with playdo for long stretches at a time without me feeling the urge to clean it all up so the house can appear like kids don’t live here. I’ve let dishes go. I’ve let laundry go. I’ve let emails go. I’ve skipped on the extras and kept things to bare essentials. I haven’t thought a bit about my ambitions and aspirations. And I like it. Not only that, but my oldest son has noticed a change in me over the last two days. After our fun day today, he looked up at me and said, “This has been really fun, Mommy.” I knew what he meant. He meant that having me without interruption…without other priorities on my to-do list…having my full attention and interacting with me was “really fun” and it meant a lot to him.
The fact that he noticed this made me completely satisfied and content and completely and utterly sad at the same time. Why? Because I’ve let myself be consumed for far too long with all of these unimportant, mind-cluttering things. I’ve sat my oldest in front of a dvd far too many times throughout his 4 years of life so I could “get something done”. And what did I accomplish? Well, I probably got a few things done, but mostly, I probably just wasted some precious time I could have been playing with him on the floor and hugging and cuddling and kissing that sweet, precious face, and even sadder, I’ve subtly taught him that he wasn’t one of the most important things in my life! How tragic is that?
Now, I’m not saying that taking “Mommy Time” is wrong or sometimes even much-needed and well-earned. We all need a break…or two…or three. And I’m also not implying that working Mommies should feel guilty. Many of us really need to be bringing in a 2nd income, and yes, that requires some sacrificing and hours of time not spent with our children every day. And for some, ambition and creativity can be carefully contained and balanced with motherhood. But, for me, I know I’ve let this idea run a little too far, and it has been a very slippery and treacherous slope. I also have an incredibly supportive husband who allows me to make decisions that will impact him and the kids without ever saying much or protesting the huge responsibility it leaves with him. He trusts me to have good judgment with what I sign us all up for, so perhaps I’ve allowed myself to indulge in my endeavors and quests a little too lavishly and take on things that don’t really matter…and perhaps at my family’s expense. And in so doing, I’ve missed out on some quality, present time with my “littles” as my friend Susan calls them, so I could perhaps selfishly pursue…achieve…accomplish…and feel satisfied with my life…and have it all. And frankly, post-epiphany, this all makes me physically ill. I mean, seriously…what could be more important than being absolutely present and involved with the very children who came out of my own womb?! Wake up, Amy!
So, my friends, I think you have met a new woman in the making. So long, odd jobs! So long, commitments that don’t involve my children! So long, pursuits and drive and ambition for things that eat at my soul and take me away from my littles. Their little time is fleeting. I have the rest of my life to be ambitious about other things after I’ve been ambitious about being with them and raising them to the best of my God-given ability! Yes, this is all a balancing act. I, too, have to take care that I don’t go to the other extreme and lose my grip on reality by not doing things I enjoy from time to time. But my goal is no longer to suit my own needs and aspirations. My current goal is to see that I really know and experience my children and they really know and experience me; that they are raised and taught by me about Christ; and that they experience the selfless love of God through me. If I can’t give them that, who can?
Disclaimer:
Two years ago, a post like this one would have made me furious. Anyone ever heard of women’s lib? I can bring home the bacon…fry it up in the pan! And you know what? I am fully prepared that it will bring out some fury in some readers out there who are living their lives to the fullest and raising their youngins to the best of their ability with no guilty conscience whatsoever. This is not about you and your family. This is about me and my family, and what God is doing in our lives and my conscience. As they say, live and let live! Whatever your path, I implore you to do it to your utmost ability. If your path is that of a hard-working Mommy who needs to bring in a second income, do it. If your path is to be a single Mommy who has to go to school and work to make ends meet so your kids can be fed, you are my HERO! If you are a stay-at-home Mommy who longs for craft night with the girls or a spa weekend away from the kids, that is YOUR right. If you are a Facebook or Pinterest addict who puts her kids in front of Yo Gabba Gabba to get a moment of inspiration in between changing soiled sheets, go for it! I am not here to convict others about how their time and energy are spent. I am simply stating what God has laid on my heart and what is convicting me.
by Amy | Apr 17, 2013 | Julian
I have been really really bad about blogging lately…on all fronts. I haven’t blogged on my vocal blog; I haven’t blogged on my Mommy Inspirational blog; and I certainly haven’t blogged on this blog. I don’t know why. I have just been really tired…really busy…really preoccupied with too many other things. I’d like to say that I will get back on track soon, but I don’t know that I will.
Anyway…I am here to share some very big news regarding my baby boy, Julian. He turned 23 months old this past weekend, and on Friday, April 12th I decided to give it a go at weaning him once and for all. I have SO loved nursing him for this long. It is a bond that I never had with Tate (since he gave up nursing at 3 months), and it was so sweet. It’s just that…well, it lasted a little too long for me. Truthfully, I think he could have easily kept going for another 2 years without any problem, but I am done. I just can’t do it anymore. He wakes us up at all hours of the night and won’t go back to bed without nursing. Last week, when I was really sick with a cold, he wasn’t feeling well either and needed to nurse around the clock. It was so exhausting and so draining that I decided I had had it. So as soon as I knew he was feeling better again, I made the decision to quit.
A girlfriend of mine had told me how she weaned her youngest by placing bandaids over her nipples and saying that Mommy had a boo boo. I was skeptical that this could work, but I tried it on Friday night and told Julian we could only have milk out of a sippy cup. He wasn’t even the slightest bit agitated by this notion. That gave me motivation to keep going. When he awoke that night, he did cry for the breast, but I reminded him that Mommy had a boo boo and he just rolled over and fell back asleep in our bed. The next day, on Saturday, I bought him a beautiful new sippy cup, which he loved, and played this whole thing up even more. He went to bed without any fussing again on Saturday evening and took to the sippy cup with no issues. He awoke again on Saturday night and was upset that he couldn’t nurse, but he fell back to sleep after a couple minutes of fussing and that was it. Sunday night was a little more challenging. Monday night even more. But today after school was the hardest. Usually when I pick them up from school, they are both really tired and fall asleep in the car on the way home. In the past, I’ve always transferred them easily to their beds/couch with no issues. If Julian ever woke up during transfer, I could always nurse him back to sleep and get him down again. Today, he woke up when I transferred him and I had no tactic up my sleeve to comfort him and get him back down. I tried rocking him. I tried carrying him around. I tried bouncing him. I tried giving him a bottle. He just cried, pawed me and then began screaming at the top of his lungs. It was horrible. I almost caved. But, alas, I held strong and he was fine…eventually. He never went back to sleep again, but he eventually calmed down and had a good afternoon.
Even though he seemed fine and played well, for the most part, I did notice him being more aggressive than usual and saying “Stupid” like he’s been doing lately. When I asked him what was wrong and if he was mad at me, he replied “yeah”. And here’s the biggest kicker…tonight, when I went in his room to rock him (like I do every night), he wouldn’t let me hold him. Instead, he insisted on sitting in the rocking chair on his own and I pushed the rocking chair back and forth until he fell asleep. That made me a little sad. I know things will be fine and he will be fine. I just feel like, tonight, I have lost my baby. This whole rocking and nursing routine…well, that was ours. That was what we did. And now that we don’t do it anymore, because I decided it’s enough, we don’t have that time together anymore. I know we’ll resume and find a new normal. I know he will still come to me and cuddle and maybe it will be even better because he won’t be coming to me to get something but instead to just love on me. Maybe that will happen. But right now, there’s distance. And I hate it. In fact, the temptation to rip off that bandaid is so strong, I have to keep thinking of all the things that made me nuts about continuing to nurse him throughout this past year. Man, motherhood is so hard sometimes, isn’t it?!
What’s crazy about all this is how badly I wanted to do it with Tate and how hard I tried to nurse him up to six months. I thought I’d failed when we barely made it to six months with me pumping and giving him that milk mixed with formula. Then Julian came along and nursing was SO easy. He just knew what to do and he preferred it over everything else. He’d take the bottle, but he wanted the breast. This was so foreign to me. I was so happy to be able to breastfeed him.
Well, (sigh), I’m sad tonight. I’m happy we have gotten over a hump and he didn’t even ask for it tonight. But I’m sad that he didn’t want me to hold and rock him. I hope that part of it doesn’t continue. Even if I don’t breastfeed him, he’s still my little baby. I don’t want him to get older and grow out of being close to me. I just need some space and I need my sleep!!
Dear Julian,
Someday you will know this story, because I will tell you or you might even read this letter. I just want you to know that I love you so much. I have so enjoyed your presence in our lives and what you add to our little family. You are such a ray of sunshine. You are so funny. You are so special to us. I have absolutely loved breastfeeding you and nourishing you with my milk over the past two years. You and I developed quite a close bond in my doing so. I hope that bond never goes away, and I hope you continue to know that closeness and warmth I gave you from the first moment you were born. You are still my baby and will be forever.
Love,
Your Mama
by Amy | Mar 19, 2013 | mama confessions
Wow! It’s been much too long since I’ve last blogged. I have dearly missed it, but for some reason, my heart just hasn’t been into writing and sharing lately. I’m going through a phase of just reading, praying, meditating, keeping to myself and soaking up all the gems others have to offer. Still, somehow, I feel like I need to put my voice out there and let people in on all the things my mind has been reeling about over the past few months.
First of all, I am so happy to say that my dear 4-year-old son is doing remarkably well after all he has been through over the past five months. We are still awaiting some doctor recommendations, and I’m sure we have more follow-ups to come, but we are just basking in the glory of having no seizures since the end of December and trusting our God and Healer for complete healing. The last MRI at the end of January showed that the inflammation is still there in a few different areas on his brain. The doctors are undoubtedly nervous and want to treat him, but for some reason, we are at a major standstill. What we thought was going to be a quick referral to a rheumatologist in Houston has now taken over six weeks with no answers and no referral. At the time, we would have jumped in our car and driven there for this doctor to see him and recommend treatment, but now, six weeks later, we are feeling much differently. At first, we were angry at the lack of communication and urgency these doctors have shown, but now, I feel like it has just been a God thing. I firmly believe that God is just holding everyone off and doing His own healing so that we don’t have to put him through rigorous treatment unnecessarily. Funny how God works in these ways. We have no idea what He is doing, but we know He is up to something! In any case, I boldy proclaim that he is healed and know that so much good will come out of all of this hardship! Thank you, God!
Aside from all of that, our family is doing really well, and I just feel the presence of God in our lives more now than ever. It was so needed too. I can’t describe it, but even though I have known the Lord for many years, I have never quite felt His hand on me like I do now. He guides my ever move, and He is with me every second of every day. He always was. It’s only now that I notice Him.
As I type this, my eyes well up with tears. I’m so humbled by all that God is doing in my life right now. I am so full of joy and gratitude for the precious little lives that He has given me to pray for, kiss and hug on, teach and touch. Never in my life have I known such joy and satisfaction and felt like I was right where I needed to be. However, if you would have talked to me before my son got sick, my testimony would have been much different. I would have told you that I loved my kids, but…
- I would give anything for some time to myself.
- I am so exhausted from all I have to do.
- I’m so drained by the constant picking up of toys, laundry to do, dishes to wash and put away, peacemaking between siblings, dinners to make, etc…
- I just wish I had more help.
- I just wish I could sleep more. And the list goes on…
I am not a saint. I still have those feelings a lot. But now the filter is different. Instead of letting myself wallow in these thoughts, a little timer immediately goes off and says, “Snap out of it! Your time for complaining is UP!” It’s true! I used to let myself sigh outloud — you know…the martyr sigh that tells the world how bad you have it –and get frustrated and let my extreme impatience with my kids come out a lot more than I would ever like to admit. But now, when those little voices creep up as I walk from one end of the house to another picking up toys and wiping crayon marks off my wall, I smile as if to say to myself, “Get over yourself, Amy!” Then I immediately think of all the things I am so grateful for:
- Those beautiful, sweet, soft cheeks I get to kiss every day…there will soon be a day when those cheeks will thin out, have pimples and start to grow hair!
- Hearing the word, “Mommy!” for the 25th time in a 5-minute time span…there will soon be a day they will no longer call me “Mommy”…but instead “Mom” or perhaps nothing at all. Maybe they’ll just say, “Hey…You…Lady who wiped my butt and rocked me to sleep for 3 years straight!”
- The crazy loudness that penetrates the walls of my house…there will soon be a day when that loudness will turn to a very still, eery quietness that longs for their sweet voices to echo down the hallway.
- The lack of time to myself…there will soon be a day when I will have too much time to myself. Although, right now, I can’t even imagine that.
- The clutter of toys and games and unidentifiable objects throughout my entire house…there will soon be a day when I will look around the house and none of that will be here…and I will be sad that it’s not there. Another one that is hard for me to believe at. this. moment.
I could go on and on, but I will leave it at that. You get the picture. It is something we all have to learn and confess on a daily basis.
I was just laughing and talking to my girlfriend the other day about the fact that we wish we could just press the pause button and get some things done and have a moment to just soak it all up and take a breath without them growing in the process and without us missing out on all the moments. She wanted her pause button to last for a year. She thought she could really accomplish a lot and get things done if she had that long. I was thinking more like an entire day, since I haven’t had an entire day to myself in 4 1/2 years! I can only imagine the things I could do! Ha!
Whatever your pause button might look like, we all have the need to stop and reflect on what we have from time to time. For some reason I’ll never know or understand, God didn’t design our lives to have a built-in pause button. For some reason, we are severely sleep-deprived, overwhelmed, bombarded and up to our ears in snot, poop, sour milk and crayons in a very suffocating, sore boobed, no personal space kind of way, and somehow, some way we have to lavish in it and enjoy every second of it because just as quickly as it came about in our lives, it vanishes. So unfair! I’ve always said that it was a cruel, twisted joke that we have to enjoy every quickly passing second of a sleepless newborn, even though nothing about sleep-deprivation connotates the word “enjoy”. It’s the same cruel, twisted joke that we have to enjoy every quickly passing second of a toddler’s tantrums or a preschooler’s strong will. But for some reason, we do. We absolutely do. God designed it that way. So, like anything, we have a choice. Is the boob half empty or is it half full? Do we relish in the mishaps — the spilled milk, the crumbs in the couch, the snot on the wall, the toys we accidentally step on — which happen more often than the clean house? Or do we complain and wish away our kids’ codependent years and then look back and wish we had just enjoyed it more?
I choose to relish in the mishaps and trust the God who gave me these precious souls to mold and shape and raise and pray for.
Today, I am resting on this promise:
2 Corinthians 12:9
9 And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.
Strength made perfect in weakness?
Rest?
Sign me up!
by Amy | Nov 14, 2012 | Tate
Dear Tate,
As we wind down on the eve of your 4th birthday, I can’t help but get emotional. This time, just 4 short years ago, I was already checked in at Round Rock Medical Center and told to “get a good night’s rest because tomorrow will be a long day!” by the labor and delivery staff. Little did I know, I was in labor all night. As I constantly got up, the cables I was connected to kept coming off. The nurses were getting irritated at me because they kept losing my stats on the monitor. At 5am the nurse finally checked to see if I was dilated, and I was well on my way at 5 cm. She immediately ordered an epidural and called Thomas at home (since they sent him home to get rest) to come quickly. I slept a little while to recover from the all-nighter I had just pulled and awoke around 10am to start pushing. You were here at 11:19am. And how my life changed forever!
As I recall those moments in the hospital that day that forever changed our lives, I feel so close to that time — as if it just happened yesterday. But then I look at you, and I think of all we’ve been through in these four years, and I know that some amazing and precious time has passed since that day. You are much taller now. You speak complete, clear sentences. You no longer cry. Well, you don’t cry often :). You sleep through the night without any problems. You don’t drink out of a bottle anymore. And the hardest part for me is, you are no longer a baby! You are no longer a toddler even. You are a preschooler! How did that happen? You can dress yourself. You can go to the bathroom alone. You can, for the most part, fix your own drink and feed yourself. And all of these things will continue to get easier and easier for you as you grow older and older.
Tate, I am SO very proud of you. Actually, I don’t even think the word “proud” comes remotely close to the way I feel about you. You are part of me. You are part of your Dad. You are our world. You are so special to us. Words can’t describe the way we feel about you. Before you were here, we knew we would love you. I felt that special bond with you because you were inside of me. We knew that you would be awesome and change our lives forever. But what we didn’t know is how amazing you’d be. We didn’t know how sweet and affectionate you would be. We didn’t know how caring and loving you would be. And we, for sure, didn’t know how cute you would be! 😉
Tate, I love how you call cucumbers “koo-kuh-mumbers” and hamburgers “hannah-burgers”. I love how you just came to me (when you should be in bed) and hugged and kissed me and told me that I’m the “best Mommy in the world.” I love how you get excited about something and want to tell everyone you meet about it. I love how you smell. I love how you get a serious look on your face when I ask you if you need any more to eat or drink and you pucker your lip and say, “No thanks. I’m fine.” I love how you think of others and want to make sure your brother is taken care of or when you want to draw a picture or give something special to your friend. I love how you get excited about giving to others. I love how thoughtful you are and how easy you are to be around (most of the time). And even though you many times drive me nuts with this, I love how you are particular about what you wear and make a big deal out of it every day and always want to wear the most inappropriate clothing for the weather that day. I love how you need to be cleaned off immediately after you get your hands or face dirty. I love how you play with things and keep yourself occupied in your own imaginary world. Man, the list of things could go on and on. You are such a sweety and you are so unique!
Tate, last weekend we went through a very scary time with you. Shortly after I wrote my last post, I was awoken by your Dad holding you in his arms and crying for help. You had called him in your room to get up, and the two of you had gone into the living room to play with a puzzle on the floor. When he turned around to look at you, you suddenly began convulsing and having a major seizure. You couldn’t even utter a cry. You were shaking uncontrollably all over. He immediately came and got me and we called 911. The fire department came and then the paramedics. They looked at you and took your vitals and took you in the ambulance down to Dell Children’s Hospital. We went through countless hours waiting with you in the ER. They admitted you and ran MRIs and spinal taps and EEGs to determine what was wrong and what had caused the seizures. When they got the test results back from the MRI, they found swelling on the left side of your brain. They kept you for 3 more days to try and determine what was going on, but eventually sent us home with no real conclusive answers — only possibilities of what could be wrong. We are scheduled to go back in six weeks for another MRI to try and see if they can see more when the swelling has gone down and attempt to give us a diagnosis.
Tate, my heart is just heavy and so sad over this whole situation. I am trying to keep my faith strong and we are believing in God and his promises for your health and complete recovery. I pray that nothing is wrong when they take the MRI again and that this was all just a random event that will eventually go away and leave you unscathed. I pray that you wouldn’t even remember that it happened other than from us telling you about it someday. I pray that we never have to go through and witness you having another seizure like you had that day. It broke our hearts into a million irreparable pieces. I don’t think I’ll ever get over seeing you like that. It took my whole world and flipped it upside down. It shook us and made us question everything!
On a lighter note, I wanted to share how absolutely incredible you are and were over the past few days. You were brave. You were so strong and so peaceful throughout this whole horrifying, unexplainable event. You were, of course, irritated a couple of times with the IV and all the cables hooked up to you. And by the third day, you wanted your own clothes on and you wanted to go home. But you were a trooper. You were kind to the nurses. You were patient with us. You smiled when I know you didn’t feel like smiling and you made everyone around you feel at ease. You stayed strong and you were resilient. I love that about you as well.
Dear Lord,
Thank you for this precious, sweet boy, Tate, who you have blessed us so richly with. He is such an amazing little guy with such a big heart! He is funny. He is charming. He is as sharp as a whip and so so smart! He is extremely athletic for his age and plays soccer and basketball so well already! He is a good little singer with such a sweet voice. He is an artist who loves to draw and paint and color! He is a big helper who loves to bake and cook and go get things for Mommy. And most importantly, he is ours! We love him so very much Lord. Thank you for blessing our lives with his presence and sweet spirit in our household. We pray that you would protect him and keep him safe from all harm. We pray that you would help him to continue to grow in his love for you. We pray for complete healing and recovery for him Lord. Guide us and guide the doctors to better understand his condition and know how to help him. And mostly, give us peace during this time and put aside all fear and anxiety that we are battling with every second of every day.
In addition, Lord, thank you for all the wonderful people in Tate’s lives who care about him and are praying for him right now. We thank you for our wonderful friends and family who came to our aid during this time. We thank you for friends and neighbors who brought gifts and food to the hospital and at home. We thank you for friends who cared for our dog, Casi and Julian during this time. We thank you for the meals we are enjoying that not only help us out but warm our hearts as well.
Today, we give you our sweet Tate and pray that you would just hold him in your hands, Lord, and bless him.
In Jesus’ name we pray…Amen!
by Amy | Nov 11, 2012 | mama confessions
Well, where do I begin?
Saturday morning at around 4:30am I was awoken and led to my laptop to write about the absolutely perfect day I had had with my two children the day before (READ HERE). I have been trying to get better about writing and recording those amazing, memorable moments more, because days go by and then weeks go by and then months go by and I realize that I can’t remember them like I want to. I, for sure, can’t remember what we may have eaten on any given day, what the kids wore or what specific activities we did, but most importantly, I forget about those very special, precious moments where we break out in laughter over a funny incident over lunch or we play together without a care in the world on the living room floor. Friday was a day I never wanted to forget. It was perfect and special for no reason other than the fact that we were together. There were no errands to run; there were no other people to meet up with; there was no alternate agenda on my day planner. It was just me and my boys…just hanging out. I wanted to have a record of that special day and share the details of it, so that I could put it in my treasure chest of memories from when my kids were little…or perhaps even to recall it when days weren’t so perfect. Little did I know that I was three hours away from one of the most imperfect, utterly terrifying and excruciating days in my entire life!
Only three hours later, at around 7:30am, my sweet, beautiful, little boy, Tate, woke up like any other morning and called out for my husband from his room. My husband went to get him before he woke anyone else up, and they went into the living room to play a puzzle on the floor. My husband noticed he had a runny nose, so he reached over to wipe his it. My son began to jerk his head back and convulse. My husband thought he was joking around and tried to get him to sit still. My son began to tilt his head back and lost all ability to speak. Then he began uttering sounds that made my husband quickly realize that something was seriously wrong. His lips began to smack uncontrollably. His eye lids began to twitch. His body began to shake and stiffen. My husband picked him up and carried him to me to get help. I immediately called 911 and raced through the house to gather our things as if I had been trained from above to know what to do. The paramedics arrived on the scene and by then, my son’s body had begun to relax a bit. He seemed confused and very quiet, but his shaking had stopped. The paramedics decided to go ahead and take him in the ambulance to Dell Children’s Hospital while I followed behind in the car with our younger son.
By the time I arrived at the ER, Tate was in the middle of what they now believe to have been another seizure. This time, the seizure seemed to be isolated on the right side of his body with his right arm jerking and right eye and right side of his mouth twitching. My husband and I were dumbfounded. Throughout all the questioning by doctors and nurses, we were struck by just how healthy and normal our precious boy had been throughout these first four years of his life. He had been sick only a handful of times and by all practical purposes, he was a very healthy, happy little boy with absolutely no reason for us to have ever imagined that he would go through something like this. It was out of the blue and completely unexplainable. Even the medical staff seemed puzzled as they gathered more information about his medical history. He had not recently had immunizations, he had not been sick with a high fever or worse, he had not fallen or done anything to cause trauma to his head that we were aware of. He was just waking up from a good night’s sleep and playing on the floor with his Daddy.
Over the course of four days in the hospital, they ran test after test to try and determine why our little boy suffered from these seizures. On the same day of his series of seizures, he could barely get out an audible word. They ran an EEG to determine his brain function and it came back fairly normal with no reason for them to think that he would have another seizure. The neurologist was quite confident that the MRI would also come back normal, and in my naive mind, I was thinking we’d get to go home within a few hours. Little did I know. They finally got him into an MRI around 5pm that same day, and after hours in the ER just waiting, being by his side and trying to make arrangements for my younger son to be taken care of, Tate was finally admitted to the hospital for an overnight stay. While we waited for the MRI test results to come back, they started him on anticonvulsants (one of the many words I had never used before Saturday) and kept a watchful eye to make sure that he was in stable condition. Communication with Tate was, at best, minimal. He was alert and aware, at some points even smiling, but he was not talking like he normally did.
Once the MRI results came back, the neurologist came to talk to us about the fact that Tate’s MRI showed swelling on the left side of his brain. My head still can’t get around this. I was prepared for them to tell us that he would need to be monitored, but I was not prepared for the MRI to come back irregular or cause anyone concern. Words like “tumor” and “stroke” were being thrown out as my head began to spin. How could this happen? What was going on with our boy?
Because of the swelling on the brain, the neurological team ordered more MRIs to be taken in order to get a better picture and attempt to rule out some serious possibilities. After his initial MRI on Saturday evening, he was then fully sedated again on Sunday for an MRA and spinal tap and then again on Monday for an MRV. After all this, it was finally determined that he did not have a stroke of any kind and he did not have one of the tested viral infections they look for. In order to take every precaution, they had immediately started him on two antibiotics and an antiviral, but they took him off all of that once the spinal tap came back negative.
As I write this, we are back home and back to our normal life. Over a week has passed since this horrible morning when the seizures began. There are still no answers as to what caused the seizures and what, if anything, could be behind the swelling. As of now, we are scheduled to have another MRI in six weeks. By then, I would imagine the swelling will have subsided and they will be able to get a clearer picture of what is going on. That is our hope, at least.
In the midst of this storm, we have had countless people praying for Tate and for us. We have been blessed by hospital visitors, gifts and meals prepared by those who care. I am so incredibly grateful for the love and support we have received. It has helped ease the fear and take our minds off of the situation at hand. Throughout this entire time, we have felt God’s hand on us and on Tate. We know that he is in control and we have relinquished our own control and anxiety over to him again and again.
Since our return home, Tate has been back to his lively, happy self. He has been playing with his toys, running, riding his scooter and laughing. He has been talking a mile a minute and for all practical purposes, he does not even look like he has been through anything. Truthfully, I think Thomas and I have been hit the hardest by this, and today, all I feel is devastation and exhaustion. In the back of our minds, we as mothers always know there is a possibility that something could happen to our children. We even try to prepare ourselves for it without becoming too paranoid or too worried. But when something does happen, it shakes us to the core and leaves a big hole in our hearts. Right now, there’s a hole where my security once was. Right now, there is an overwhelming, crippling fear that wasn’t there before. As strong and faithful as I want to be, I cannot lie and say that this hasn’t taken ahold of me. Regardless of the outcome of the follow-up MRI in six weeks, I will forever be changed by this occurrence. No matter how healthy my child is and how good his follow-up reports may be, I feel like I will forever be frightened about his well-being and perhaps wonder if we will ever have to go through the horror we went through a week ago.
There are no words that can explain this feeling as a parent. From the time a child is formed within your womb, you worry about his/her little body. You breathe a sigh of relief when you leave those OB visits with a good report. You smile with tears in your eyes as you hear a healthy, beating heart. When the child is finally born, you sit beside his bed at night making sure he’s breathing. You hesitate to sleep for fear that you might miss a plea for help. As time goes by, your confidence in your child’s well-being grows. You let go little by little and don’t need to be right beside your child, watching his every move anymore. You slowly began leaving him with friends or family to go out for dinner with your husband. You kiss him goodbye as he goes off to school. You allow him to play in another room or even outside by himself, because you know he’ll be OK. That initial fear you had when he was born his, for the most part, gone. You are confident that he is doing fine on his own — with or without your help.
This is where we were last week. We were confident in our son’s well-being. As I stated before, he had never had any health issues or causes for our concern. He was growing up and doing just fine! Then this happened on Saturday and changed everything. Now, I feel as if we’re back at that place we were in when he was only days old. We are keeping a watchful eye on him and worried about his every move. Our confidence has been shaken, and I honestly don’t know how to get it back.
Dear Lord,
You know our thoughts before we even think them. You know what is on our hearts without our being able to verbalize exactly how we feel. I am filled with grief today even though my son is happy and seemingly healthy. I am so scared by the what-ifs and thrown off guard by this chain of events that has literally flipped our world upside down. The day before this happened, I was relishing in the moment and enjoying just being with my two little boys. Now, just a little over a week later, I am completely thrown off and feel as though I don’t know what hit me. How does one bounce back from such a life-altering event? How does one handle the ever-present threat of something happening to her children?
This past week has taught me that there are no certainties in life. We can think we have healthy children, a stable job, a lasting marriage, good tires on our car, and in just moments, we can find ourselves on an ambulance heading to a children’s hospital, struggling with work, fighting with our spouses and getting a flat tire.
Help me, Lord, to cherish every moment and cast all of my care and fear on you. Help me not to be anxious and worried. Help me to learn from this and live my life to the fullest and glorify you. Help me not to be paralyzed by fear, but to live in you and your hope alone.
Amen
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