Tag: Fatherhood

Posted on in Friendship, Parenting

Changing Seasons

Seasons. We experience them at varying frequencies as parents. We have to adapt and modify our approaches. This season for me, has been one where I have had to take a backseat while I navigate motherhood and figuring out where else I am called to serve. I have faced uncertainty in sharing my voice, trying to determine and ensure I am doing so for a greater purpose. In more recent times, I have had some truly soul bearing conversations lately, particularly with other mamas with the same consensus… we are figuring it out, and we are exhausted. First, I have to acknowledge what a privilege it is to have community that moms/parents are more openly sharing their trials and tribulations vs. only the highlight reels. If you’re a parent that may not have a physical “village,” this emotional support is even more critical. Second, even with this more open and raw perspective, it doesn’t change the sometimes physical and emotional weight that (primary) parents are facing. This is not a dig at the parents who may be the secondary support; I am so appreciative for the role my husband has outside of our home while still coming in and giving his 100% where and when he can. Instead, it’s recognizing that for many parents whose children have left behind the baby and toddler phase, we’ve traded in our snuggly babies for larger problems that still require hands on deck. It’s become a juggling game of not just managing our homes, but managing changing and often conflicting schedules. It’s a game of children being in the in-between of wanting independence and being capable of doing more, but still needing us even in the daily, mundane tasks. My kids are completely capable kids, and yet each morning, I still find myself having to remind them of basic tasks they have to complete and physically needing to step in with others. It has become a new kind of exhaustion as I take on more tasks in my own life, transitioning from having babies/toddlers, while still managing these little people. 

I know this is a phase. I know it goes quickly. I know I will undoubtedly miss it, but it doesn’t take away from us parents feeling downright tired and a little cranky in the midst of it. If you’re in this season of transition, I see you. In fact, whatever season you’re in, you’re in good company. We are each trying to embrace the magic while we fight the anxieties and snapping at those around us. We are each fighting becoming the memes and gifs shared on social media of moms losing their sh*t. We’re not alone in that. Maybe that can provide comfort. Maybe that is where we meet one another, removing the judgment or unsolicited advice, but merely knowing there is someone out there, facing the same mountain and hoping to climb it with someone else. 

Posted on in Parenting

As We Heal..

Mourning and grief are tricky.  I saw a photo shortly after we had lost our daughter, Faith, of a sculpture someone had created, called Melancholy. The photo showed a large person slumped over, with a giant, gaping hole in the center. It spoke to me immediately. I naturally did some follow-up research, and this was completely intended by the creator to depict the way grief leaves us with a massive void that we most likely never “get over,” but instead learn to grow around. It became the way I chose to approach my healing, and as time passes and I go through seasons of ups and downs, it becomes all the more clear of just how appropriate this sculpture is, particularly when as a parent who has experienced loss and feeling like a piece of your heart and insides have gone to heaven along with your baby. 

After nearly four and a half years, I can say that I know how far I have come in coping with the loss of our first daughter. She had a rare condition called Turner Syndrome that caused her to go into heart failure in Utero. Trust me, I went down the research rabbit hole looking for answers after we found out, and to see the progress I have made, I know each day, I do grow around my grief and I am proud of how it has shaped me. Since healing is most certainly not linear, however, there are definitely times that the giant hole feels like it is on fire and threatening to grow even larger, or as if it can even swallow you up and all the growing around it will not matter. It makes even the most wonderful moments difficult to enjoy because the grief just feels so strong. You see, my perfect daughter, (because yes, in my mind she will forever be perfect), would be turning four years old soon. Add in the fact that my beautiful, feisty, earthly daughter has been giving me a very hard time lately, three being significantly more difficult with her than it ever was with her brother, and it makes the grief and the emotions feel magnified.

Now, I know how truly blessed by God I am to have two remarkable children on this earth, but I would be lying if I said that there are not seasons as a parent to both children on earth and in heaven, that I do not feel the pain and anger all over again. My daughter has genuinely been such a handful the last few weeks. I would be lying if I said there haven’t been moments that I hid in the bathroom and cried as I mourn the loss of what would have been, and cope with the frustration of my spirited little girl. It brings a new sense of guilt and shame as I struggle to grapple with the feelings of sadness and frustration and recognizing that all of the feelings are acceptable. I adore my daughter. She challenges me in ways I never knew were possible. BUT, it is also okay for me to miss and mourn my first baby girl. It is okay for me to wonder what she would have been like at three, and now preparing to be four. In my mind, she’d be just as easy as her brother, but with the fierce spirit of her baby sister, and all the struggles I am currently facing with my youngest would not exist. I know this isn’t logical at all, but it becomes a way of processing when the grief starts to blaze too intensely. When I actually put words to it and let the shame of it go, it becomes a little easier to carry. My therapist reminds me of how proud of myself I should be. Today, that is what I will hold on to. If you are a parent who has lost and you have felt these emotions, you are not alone. It does not make you a worse parent to your children on earth; in fact, I think it only makes us stronger as we learn to grow in different ways around that grief we hold so well.

Posted on in Marriage/Relationships, Parenting

ALL JuMbLeD UP

After a phenomenal/exhausting/core memory building trip to Disney with family, coming back to one of the worst week’s we’ve had in a while, was beyond difficult. It is not that anything specific went wrong, but more so that despite all my best efforts to jump back into our routine and not miss a beat, the kids and I just could not find our groove. Every morning felt chaotic, even though we have our morning schedule down; in fact, just about every day, we bordered on missing my oldest kid’s doors being open, and a handful of the mornings including me near screaming and racing out the car, a ball of stress. This then obviously resulted in a quick cool-down as we walked up to the school doors, at that point, me now frazzled that our stressful morning would impact his day and behavior in school. I wish I could say this was isolated to just the morning routine, but our afternoons were just about the same. My youngest fought me on naps daily, finally falling asleep moments before I needed to leave to get my son, and it just set the afternoon up for disaster. Add in the weather change from being in constant sunshine and mild-warm weather to a week of rain and no after-school playground time, and we were just struggle city. 

I spent most of the week feeling utterly depleted. People had actually warned me that after a week of Disney, I myself would need a vacation, but I didn’t really understand it. For me, it really struck me in the realization that it wasn’t so much the physical catching up on laundry, etc. (we were the crazy ones who only packed carry-ons and did laundry on our trip so we didn’t have any coming home), or even getting back into packing lunches and school work, but more the groove of coming back to not being surrounded by family and extra eyes and hands each day. In fact, for me, while the vacation itself may have not been one of relaxation, mentally, for me, it was a huge break having my husband around for eight entire days, as well as a set of grandparents, multiple aunts and uncles, and cousins to help occupy the kids. The fact that I knew I could let my guard down a little bit and let others in to help with the kids (and that the kids thoroughly enjoyed their time with family) provided a much needed vacation I had not realized I needed. Starting each morning and ending each day with my husband in the same place as the rest of us truly allowed me to rest in a sense, and the jump back into my normal day-to-day, as much as I am a pro at it and love the life I have, really did trip me up. I honestly started to feel like a failure thatI just couldn’t seem to get us back on track the way I envisioned, and the kids were struggling in their own ways. Naturally, this just made things worse as I tried to work the kids through without figuring out where I was at, leading to way more than ever necessary arguments and raised voices on my part. If you’ve ever read “The Color Monster,” with your kid(s) by Anna Llenas (which if you have not, I highly recommend it), I felt just like the color monster– completely mixed up.

Finally, it struck me. You see, for me, prayer, and truly leaning into God is a major priority for me. While I was still praying as I always do, I was letting myself become so consumed with outside worries, it was almost making me ill. While it took me a full week of my own stubbornness to recognize this, the moment I did, I felt like a weight was lifted. I could see exactly why I was struggling and not only walk through my own mess, but more easily help navigate my kids’ messes. This is your reminder that your self-care matters. Your beliefs that sustain you, matter. This may look different for each of us, but when you feel totally off, taking that added time to sort through and ground yourself makes all the difference. Your “to-do lists” will always be there; there will always be more laundry to do or something else to dust, (and honestly, it’s a gift in my eyes because it signifies we are alive), so take the fifteen minutes in the tub, or the 20 minutes of meditation, or the 10 minutes of prayer – whatever it looks like for you, USE it. Use that small window to ground yourself because even with the best plans and most organized routines, if you are all jumbled up, none of it will run smoothly.

Posted on in Parenting

Growing around our Grief

We are the lucky ones. I remind myself of this whenever I feel upset thinking of our losses, the beautiful little souls we will not meet on this earth. We are the lucky ones. We have two, perfectly imperfect, happy, healthy, little rainbows babies that fill our hearts with so much joy (and chaos, and stress, just as they should). We are the lucky ones. While I am well aware of this, and it has taken me quite a long time to come to terms with this next realization, we are still entitled to feel and to mourn our losses. The agony we, as parents, have felt, especially in saying goodbye to our daughter, Faith, does not take away from the immense love and gratitude we feel for our two angel babies here on earth. I think there is a misconception sometimes that if you have children after your losses, it somehow erases those losses, or perhaps as parents we just feel our own guilt in feeling the weight of the loss(es) when we know what a gift we have received with a new baby/babies.

As this year’s Pregnancy, Infant, and Child Loss Awareness Week approaches, and I am filled with love as I type away while my two, beautiful miracles giggle two rooms over (as they pretend to be napping in preparation for a late afternoon play date) I am also filled with a heaviness as a remember my babies’ lives cut before they could experience this earth. I especially think of our daughter, Faith, whom I carried for 20 weeks, and I recall how much I struggled after our daughter was born to balance the relief and gratitude in a healthy baby, but the pain in the loss I was still mourning. Specifically within that first month post-partum, adjusting to a new norm, a newborn schedule again (I hadn’t had one in 3 years), and regulating hormones, I found myself torn, my heart overjoyed with love and contentment of this remarkable little girl in front of me, but also coupled with sadness, wondering why it is sometimes that we receive certain babies, but not others. These were questions that then filled my heart with guilt rather than simply accepting that this is my reality, and that my heart definitely has enough love to grieve and give, and that if I allow myself to grieve, it will actually help me to better give to my children and loved ones on earth. This next year will mark five years since we lost our daughter, and it is still a ball of feelings that may often hit me without warning. Sometimes, in the highest points of joy for one of my miracle children, I feel an equal pang of guilt or sadness that she will not experience these moments. I could lie and say that it “gets easier over time,” but I think that we simply grow stronger, around our grief, allowing it to make us softer. That is at least, how I hope to use my grief, so that others feel less alone.

This is your reminder to be easy with yourselves. This entire month of October is dedicated to raising awareness regarding pregnancy, infant, and child loss, and opening up a dialogue so that people feel less alone, and oftentimes, less ashamed, because while there is NO shame in this burden, I have found that many women I speak to feel a deep sense of shame, somehow blaming themselves for what has happened. Treat yourselves with gentleness. Mourn the way you need to mourn. Celebrate the time you got with your baby if that is what best suits you. Allow yourself to change your mind in how you cope, recognizing that there is no right way to cope with such a tragedy (excluding causing harm to yourself or others of course). For me, I find different seasons to bring various challenges and I still battle some of those feelings of guilt, so I have to remind myself how lucky I am, but also to give my heart and my mind a break and allow them to feel what they need to feel. To all the families who have lost, to all the families waiting patiently, to all the families who cling to their miracles but still relive the losses, my heart is with you. This week, when we light our remembrance candle (made by a dear friend for our daughter) we also light for all the pregnancies, infants, and children lost here on earth.

Posted on in Parenting

Shifting Gears

Moving into a new chapter as a mama

Today, my husband took our son to his first NFL game. Our son has been so excited; for weeks since we broke the news to him, he has been counting down the days to go see “his team.” I must admit, as excited as I was for him and my husband to share this moment, I was also a bit sad, and maybe even envious, too. I immediately went to a handful of trusted confidantes, one of which I consider not only my friend, but my mentor as well. I cannot begin to express the importance of finding a mentor; someone who you respect and who has been where you now walk or are about to journey on and explained to her exactly what I was feeling. She naturally understood, and helped me put words to my feelings, since as much as I didn’t want to admit it initially, it was difficult to relinquish control and let my husband run the show on this one. I guess it also felt like the end of an era for my son and me in some ways. She told me the reality is that the bittersweet feelings I have as a mother of a son will only continue. “As he continues to grow, your relationship will continue to change, and you’ll grieve it a bit, but then you’ll watch it take on a different form and you’ll grow to love that, too.” After I had a good cry and even let my husband in on what I was feeling, I sat and reflected on why I felt this strongly about this entire situation.

Then, it hit me. The moment my son was born, I was reborn.  I don’t say that in the sense that I didn’t know who I was or that I wasn’t proud of the human I was becoming, but it was that moment that changed the entire course of my future. All the dreams I had for myself came true in a completely unexpected way; this was the purpose that had been carved out just for me. As he grew, I grew, and our relationship became one of the most precious ones in my life. When my husband pursued his dream job, taking him away from us for 6 months, our bond continued to grow. He is easily one of my favorite human beings and a person I want to always know, especially as he grows older and we can shift from the parent-child role to that of best friends. I can recall a former employer telling me to soak up the moments I was his world, because as he got older, undoubtedly, there would be moments he would start to jump for daddy over mommy, and while I knew the days would come, I still wasn’t prepared.

Let me be perfectly clear: my husband was meant to be a dad. Even before I could picture myself as mama, he always knew he was meant for it. My feelings as we shift roles a bit has nothing to do with his capabilities as a parent, but just my own feelings of knowing my son is growing, and that yes, while I will always have a special place in his life, my role will start to shift as he gets older. While I am still the person he asks to snuggle him at night and the side he climbs to in the middle of the night if he has a nightmare, I can see the ways his interests now have him gravitating more towards his dad. As this happens, I will continue to repeat the words my dear friend said to me. I know it is okay to feel sad at times about this and even to grieve the moments he may no longer want me as a coach or may let go of my hand as we talk to school, but I know this awareness will only help me savor the moments I do have, even more. I look forward to seeing my husband and son get to do more together, even without his sister and me, and I know that whatever form our mother-son relationship takes, it will be absolutely beautiful.

Posted on in Marriage/Relationships, Parenting

When We’re Running on Empty

How do we keep it together when we feel so utterly exhausted?

Real talk. Lately it has felt like I am trying to balance so much, that one tiny thing could tip the entire scale and force it all to come crashing down. I am not one who does well with “failure,” so it is times like these that I struggle with drowning out the bitterness and/or resentment that can creep in when I feel like everyone else has it together and I just can’t seem to get my dang footing in place. I know I am not alone in this, and we have those days where it just feels like the day turns into a week and you just cannot shake the negative energy. Even my prayers just felt a little half-assed because I knew how distracted I was by the “things” I felt I needed to be doing and simply adjusting to new schedules with my kids and managing that with my husband’s schedule while trying to find a moment of “self-care” for myself, too. I set my youngest up with some play-dough and some music, and decided to listen to a few-week old podcast from a friend/mentor I did an 8-month Bible Study/healing journey with, Toni Collier.

This particular episode had April Daniels as a guest, and the two spoke about life after loss (if you do not know, April Daniels was married to songwriter/producer LaShawn Daniels, who passed tragically in a car crash in 2019). The entire podcast centered around the way that life truly can give us a lot of reasons to be angry sometimes, but we only need ONE reason to be grateful. When asked what advice she’d give herself during her darkest moments, April responded to, “Keep a log of your history with God.” She explained how she wrote it down, those little moments, big moments, everything in between that reminded her of God’s goodness and how He has shown up for her time and time again. She did this so that on the dark days, she had something to look back to to combat that feeling of despair and the falsities that come into our heads that we are alone. As I listened, and naturally teared up because I am definitely one who finds crying therapeutic, I got my phone out and started making notes of all the moments I knew I felt His presence. Similar to a gratitude journal, which I have done as well and found valuable, but I found this more freeing in the sense that I did not need a prompt; I simply could take any moment that made me smile or made me feel brave or reminded me that I am not alone, and log it. Those little moments that feel like someone is looking down on you, whether you believe in God, or the universe, or whatever it may be, in those moments where you felt that little “wink” of goodness, write it down. Speak it out loud – voice note it, whatever it is. Save it for the harder days. Save it for those days that you feel like the world is closing in on you and you feel like that bitterness is going to get ya– maybe your kids just aren’t hearing you the way you want them to, maybe it just feels like your partner and you cannot get on the same page; whatever it might be, you can look back and say, “Hey, I know that He showed up for me then, so He will show up for me now.” It truly has helped keep me in perspective, because, yes, there will be many times that life just feels so out of our control and like you are being pulled in different directions, but to be able to run through the way the chaos has worked to your benefit is so comforting. It may not change the morning disaster in that no matter how many times I seem to remind my children, my youngest insists on waiting to put her socks on until we are walking out the door, BUT it sure can bring you down from completely losing it day in and day out as you get it under control.

Posted on in Parenting

Projecting Our Fears on Our Kids

How do we balance our own fears as our kids enter new phases?

I wrote last week about the mourning as one chapter ended and another one began with my son beginning elementary school. What I realized in the first week, however, is that a lot of the anxieties and fears I was having were my own. My son was READY – a stark comparison from last year (as we did a year of homeschool to determine if we’d send him to first grade when he entered school or to a year of Kindergarten) to this year, which erased any doubts we had of our decision to hold him. His academics had never been a concern, but that social and emotional readiness was so evident as we prepared and went through his first few days. I, on the other hand, was struggling so much, even knowing he was ready, and I couldn’t figure why until after that first day. Then, it hit me. All the jitters he wasn’t having, but I was, were the same jitters I have had since I was a kid whenever school was starting. This eager anticipation mixed with uneasiness stuck with me through graduate school, and even into my years of teaching; preparing for a new school year always brought a heightened sense of stress for me, with my type A personality and major perfectionist attitude that I wore like a badge of honor, it made new beginnings borderline miserable. As a parent, I have worked so hard to minimize these aspects of my personality and find ways to use them to benefit myself and my family, but as my own son started school, they all came flooding back, forcing me to face them in a new way.

As I prepared his supplies, even though I naturally did it weeks ahead, I felt the same jitters, the same worries about studying, tests, time management, etc. It brought me to tears worrying of all of these thoughts running through my son’s mind, except… they weren’t. These feelings were about me, not about him at all. My beautiful son, Lord bless him, has acquired the traits I like most about myself, perfectly mixed with the most wonderful attributes of his father. Among my favorites, this being my husband’s sense of ease in most things he does, especially when he knows he is prepared. My son, naturally, did feel prepared, thanks to the efforts we have put in, which we did for the exact reasons of giving him the strategies and abilities to move forward and also to be able to vocalize when he needs assistance. For him, he felt completely capable and ready to move into this next phase, completely armed with the same charming smile as his dad, and the faith and prayers of his mama. In fact, my husband and I both have spent so much time in also expressing what expectations we DO have, none of which are necessarily strictly academic based in the sense of achieving high scores, but more in the respect of listening and taking one’s time to complete tasks so you ensure you have given it your full attention and focus. 

After I met with another fellow mom and friend, one who was very similar in personality to me in school, I shared with her what I had realized about why I was having such a hard time with my son starting school. She gasped, grabbed my arm, and told me she had realized the same thing. In fact, she admitted she had recurring dreams the week leading up to her own kids beginning school, of preparing for a test, only to get to class and it be a totally different test than what she studied for. While I naturally do not bask in glory when my friends are struggling, I breathed a sigh of relief to know I was not alone. When I shared the story with another mom friend, she said she had similar feelings when her child started, her own insecurities coming to the surface and worrying of her child having the same feelings she did, putting the same immense amount of pressure on herself that was more destructive mentally than it was constructive in any capacity. 

As parents, we naturally want what is best for our children. Sometimes, however, I think those lines get blurred when we accidentally project our own insecurities on our kids and almost encourage fears they themselves don’t have. It can become increasingly difficult then, to even assist our own children as we are grappling to come to terms with our own fears. While I do not have a fix on how to prevent this from happening, I can say that when it does happen, taking the time to address the situation is monumental. As my son let go of my hand and walked into his building without looking back, I was finally able to put words and understanding to what I had been feeling. Facing it, facing where I felt I had failed in my need to excel gave me newfound courage to better approach this new phase in my son’s life. I anticipate that it will even potentially help me identify what areas my son may struggle in as we move forward, because I can see more clearly what fears are my own vs. what his may be. I even chose to share this with my son, and that honest vulnerability felt fantastic to offer to my child so that he hopefully sees my learning as well and feels comfortable sharing his own fears with me.

Posted on in Uncategorized

When Parenting Doesn’t Feel Good

How do you manage when everything about them gets under your skin?

REAL talk. What do you do when you start to actually have feelings of dislike for your child? When they have pressed every button and tried every ounce of your patience? If you’ve been a parent for a long time, then you have definitely felt this at some point or another. Especially as our children get older and begin to exert their own free-will and come into their own, we start to see how little control we have (which in reality, we want for our children, because we want them to be self-sufficient grown-ups), but when you are in it, and just trying to get your dang kids in the car to not be late for a play-date THEY wanted, it can be incredibly defeating. When you reach this point, at least for me, every. little. thing that my children do becomes triggering. 

This was my reality the last week and a half. While I know I am not alone, as I have spoken to so many other mom-friends, because PRAISE THE LORD FOR REAL FRIENDSHIPS where we can be raw and honest, it does not make it suck any less. Feeling a twinge of actual dislike for your child is not a good feeling, and if you are like me, it causes you to spiral into the cycle of screaming, followed by overcompensation to make up for the ugly memories you fear you’ve created. Even though logically it makes sense to not love or like every attribute of someone we love, as a mother, it is very difficult to come to terms with this when it is targeted at our children. I mean, we created these little people. We love them more than we love ourselves and it can feel like a giant failure when we start to see them as normal people, rather than the perfect angels we are protecting and living for. The overcompensation, then, just sets you up for failure because you can try to plan the most “perfect” day, and then if it doesn’t live up to the expectation, because, hello, these are children we are dealing with, you set yourself up for the same frustrations you were trying to avoid.

So what do we do? How do we contend with these feelings when we as adults are meant to be the ones to help them cope with big feelings and set the example for them, but we ourselves are so triggered? Through research, various conversations with other parents, and trial and error within my own parenting, I have compiled some tried and true options that can help minimize the urge to give your child a giant noogie, even when he/she might deserve it. 

  1. Breathe. It may sound silly, but taking a moment to remind yourself to breathe can not only reset your system, but simply buy yourself some time to help you calm down. I tell my children when they are worked up, “inhala…exhala…” and I have found that when I myself do this, I can step back a moment and diffuse a situation.
  2. Look at their hands. I noticed this when I would have “cuddle time,” with my oldest. As he would doze off, I found myself just memorizing the different features of his face, taking a mental picture, and I would see his little hands nestled against his face and be brought back to moments of him as an infant. Immediately it made me smile, and I started incorporating this into moments where I was so frustrated with him. It can be hard to see the cute little babies we adore when they are talking back or throwing a tantrum, especially because their faces don’t seem nearly as adorable when they’re hitting a decibel that could shatter glass, but looking at their hands has been truly calming. I am reminded in those moments of how little they are, and while I know this may not last forever, there is something about it with elementary age children and younger, especially because they still (at least for now) will grab my hand out of comfort or just because. 
  3. Walk away. I tell my children that it is okay to have big feelings, but we do not get to leak our hurt all over others. With that said, my oldest even at playdates, when he is upset, will look at me and walk away to take a minute for himself. I have started added this to my own parenting and WHAT. A. DIFFERENCE. I often take a breath, and tell them that I am going to walk away now so I do not lose it. They recognize this is best for all of us, because yes, when mommy loses it, it definitely winds up with most of us crying. I see this even with my own marriage and my favorite friendships that embracing space isn’t something scary when you truly love someone; in fact, it is incredibly healthy, because I think it shows the person that even in the moment of being so heated, you know you will return back when you are ready. 
  4. Grounding techniques. This one I got from one of the remarkable therapists I have had the privilege of working with over the years. This might be a 5-4-3-2-1 (5 things you can see, 4 things you can hear, 3 things you can touch, 2 things you can smell, 1 thing you can taste), or a 3-2-1- (using all the senses and going down 3-1 for each). I have found that it temporarily transports me from the moment so my focus is on something completely unrelated and then I can start over once I am in a better head space.
  5. Get physical. Not with your children of course; in fact in general when we are heated, I teach my kids to create a space for themselves so if they are throwing their arms or legs, they aren’t running the risk of harming anyone else. Instead, I mean to just get moving. Change the scenery if you can – move to a different floor, go outside if you can, turn on the music and have a dance party; anything that gets your blood flowing can be extremely beneficial. 

Once you are able to think clearly and the situation is diffused a bit, it is significantly easier to address the situation. I have even found that I am able to pinpoint the trigger and have actual conversations with my kids at levels I know they can understand. We will often, post a heightened situation, sit down on the floor together and discuss what happened and 9 times out of 10, each of us can put some kind of explanation to why we each behaved the way we did, and then apologize for it. It becomes a bonding experience that shows our kids we are growing with them, and really, reminds me as a parent that there is never going to be a linear pattern to my parenting approach. We may have expectations, but if we spend too much time living in what we think our families are supposed to look like, we miss out on actually enjoying them and building core memories that ultimately make us most resilient. I am always going to have those days where I feel like I am failing as a parent because I am human; I am always, I am sure, going to have those painful days where I just feel like my children are the ones in the wrong. I cannot change those facts, BUT, I can choose to give myself grace and to equip myself with strategies that help me build grit as a parent and a human that in turn will benefit each of the people I come in contact with. I urge you to try it. This is your reminder that we are all human. We are all learning. Hopefully in the midst of it all, we can be real with one another and ultimately then  equip our children to do it a step better than we do.

Posted on in Parenting

It’s Good to be BACK

Growth

This has definitely been a long time coming. Over the last 2 years, it has been weighing on me to resume my blogging, in an effort to rebuild community and continue to grow as parent, a wife, and a person. I feel like this is especially critical given the current state of the world; I feel like the need for genuine community has never been more vital. Over the last 2 years in particular, I have spent A LOT of time digging deep, putting the work in to really be the person I believe I am called to be. We can live in fear of what others might think, and perhaps that may always be a lingering feeling, BUT, we can make a choice to use that fear, and that anxiety, for something greater. We can use the mixed up parts of ourselves to create something really special in the form of community and strong ties.

I have always been open and honest about how I believe that becoming a parent made me the person I was called to be. I may have not initially saw it in my plan, but, GOD, and I am so dang glad He did, because I know in my heart, that as a mother, I have the best shot of being the person I am called to be on this earth. With that said, in the last 2 years, especially, I have learned so much more about myself; in fact, the pandemic brought me the gift of having to look deeper inside myself to really make myself whole.

As parents, the moment those babies are handed over to us, perhaps even sooner for some, we are changed. Our hearts grow and we live for these tiny humans that we pray over and put work into, hoping they will become healthy and whole people. It can become very easy to put ourselves on the back burner and to almost wear that like a badge of honor, as if neglecting your own mental and emotional well-being, or physical, (whatever it might be for you), makes you a better parent, because you are modeling sacrifice. If I have learned anything, it is that we are constantly walking a tight-rope, trying to balance truly giving ourselves to our loved ones and serving them wholly, whilst also prioritizing who we are. I am not going to say what self-care needs to look like for you, but I will at some point touch upon what it does look like for me, because I do very much understand and see firsthand how different it looks for so many parents, depending on their circumstances. I myself have experienced firsthand different forms of self-care and what works best for me, so the idea of a “one size fits all,” is completely off base. This post, however, is simply to bring us back, to reintroduce myself and what I hope to accomplish in sharing of my experiences and those shared with me. If you have stories to share or topics to touch upon in your journey as a parent, caretaker, or even friend/supporter to a parent and/or caretaker, please reach out to me, because I would love to walk this journey with you and learn from one another. In that growth, we grow in understanding and love and widen our communities that we so desperately need.

Posted on in Parenting

Nosy Questions Laced with Good Intentions

“So are you guys trying? “You do want one (or another) though, right?”

These questions, though seemingly harmless, can be really difficult for women (and their partners) in the midst of trying to start or expand their families. I have spoken with countless friends, friends of friends, and acquaintances, who after my being so open with my struggles have shared their stories with me. Besides learning just how common miscarriage and fertility issues are among women (of all ages, fitness levels, backgrounds, etc.), what I discovered as most alarming was the reaction and behavior these women face from other people.

While the aforementioned questions and others like them are not offensive questions, without knowing what specific couples are facing, they can cause far more damage than someone expects. I had one friend explain a situation in which she was told, she “had to have another child,” because she “couldn’t do that to her child, just leaving him alone like that.” While I choose to see the positive and believe that the speaker was simply speaking from her own experience of having multiple children and being a sibling herself, it does not take away from the negative impact these comments had on my friend. This woman did not know if my friend had been trying unsuccessfully or if she and her husband made the choice for what is best for their family. Either way, it planted unnecessary doubt in her mind as a parent as if she was doing something wrong by not having a sibling for her child.

This situation is not an isolated one; this in fact has happened to both my husband and I as well. Prior to our losses, we continuously were asked, “What are you waiting for?” and/or “Don’t wait too long.” Even post losses, we were repeatedly questioned as to when we would begin trying again, as if it is automatically assumed that we will move forward with attempting to have more children. What people fail to realize with questions like these is the doubt or damage they are planting in the minds of women and their partners. I know some women who know that for them having one child is all they want – why should they feel bad about that because another person feels they should have more? Other women tried time and time again, sharing how each time that month rolled around that they weren’t pregnant, they felt as if they had failed their families. Does reminding them of that help?

What it comes down to is this: even though we may mean well or take interest in asking people about their families, it really is not a conversation you should be having unless you have a very close relationship with the person (or couple). Even then, it is something to tread lightly in your word choice because you genuinely don’t know what a particular couple is going through or their reasons for perhaps holding off on starting or expanding their family.

As a mom, I work hard to teach my children how to be sensitive and respectful to other peoples’ emotions. I am going to generalize and say that most moms would agree they do the same, so we must remember to model that same behavior in our daily interactions with others. Show some extra care – think twice before asking the nosy question to someone you most likely aren’t even close enough with (because my guess is if you were close enough, you’d have more insight and not need answers to these questions).

To the mamas whose hearts are open and waiting: I’m praying for you. To the mamas whose hearts who are completely filled with one: I’m happy for you. Don’t let the nosy questions (even covered in good intentions) dampen your spirit.