Outside Looking In

I love to people watch.  When I'm at the park, the pool, the grocery store, a restaurant--there is always someone, or a group of someones, worth watching.  There are different reasons a particular person or group of people might attract my attention.  Sometimes I wonder what that person's story is, other times I make one up.  I watch behavior, words, clothing, make up, body language, social interaction.  I'm not a very social person myself, so I suppose maybe this is my way of interacting.

Sometimes the person I'm watching is a child. Sometimes that child is interacting with other children, with a parent, or just by him/herself.  I think, as mothers with our own experiences, we are quick to watch the interactions of other parents and children, deciding what we might do differently, recognizing good, hard work as it is, and sometimes--recognizing when something might be a little different.  Something we can identify with, but the parent and child are yet unaware of themselves.

This happened in the park the other day.  It broke my heart to watch a child who, to me, seemed to be quite obviously on the spectrum, and the parent, who was quite oblivious and impatient with it.  Of course, it is also possible she was not so oblivious, and is just impatient. When her child went off by himself, engaged in stimming behaviors, and some other behavior that displeased her, she screamed at him to go play with his friends, begged him to stop, and asked him what is wrong with him.  She was exasperated, impatient and generally annoyed.

It was hard to watch, but truly, I've been there.  I think that was what made it hardest, in all honesty.  I know where she is, or at least, where she might be.  She's trying to figure out what is wrong with her as a mom, what she isn't getting right, and what is wrong with her child.  She may be starting to realize it's not necessarily her parenting skills, and it's not necessarily his listening skills.  She's starting to recognize the differences between her child and other children his age, but she doesn't know what to do with it.  She doesn't have anyone to speak life to her, to guide her, but even if she did, she is not ready to listen.  As I watched her, I could not judge her.  I could empathize, and sympathize, but I could not judge.

I sat on my bench watching Avery--my 'normal' kid--playing, jumping, swinging, yelling, laughing, giggling, while I mulled all of this over.  I know the struggle with Noah was real, and I know my denial hurt us both.  I wondered how many people watched us with the same anguish I was watching this mom with, and I know I would not have listened if someone had spoken to me.  I was not ready to listen, and until I was, I would only turn away from those who tried.  

Hindsight is always 20/20.  And looking in from the outside is always easier than looking in from within.  We all have something we have, or currently struggle with.  Be patient, be kind, be a friend.

My Prayer

I've spent the past week raging against life.  At the most recent doctor's appointment, we discovered part of the root of many of my health issues--or at least, more of the root.  The latest labwork shows I'm in early menopause--not premenopause, but actual, real menopause.  At 37 years old.  Yep.  This is due, in part, because my adrenal glands have quit working.  When that happens, your body starts stealing from other hormones in order to stay upright and keep functioning.

On my way home, I had to pull into a parking lot up the street before I could face my family.  I needed time to scream, yell, cry like a crazy person, and rage on.  I sat in the parking lot with Casting Crowns blasting on the stereo, pounding the steering wheel and screaming at the unfairness of my reality.

I feel screwed over.  That's all the honesty I have to give you.  No wisdom, just honesty.  My sister had child #5 at age 40, but here I am, at 37, realizing just how incredibly miraculous the two boys I do have really are.  Again, it strikes home--no more babies.  It's like a hammer slamming down.  Reality.  Have I mentioned I'm only 37?

My body has been through hell, is still going through hell, and has yet to come back. My body is worn out, my immune system is suppressed, and nothing works the way it should.  Every system in my body has gone in its own haywire direction.  Recovery from this, IF I can do everything the way I'm 'supposed' to, could take up to two years, and that's if my body is in shape enough to have it all reversed.  That's a whole lotta ifs.  I'm angry,  I'm frustrated, I'm upset, I'm just really pissed off.  I cry at the drop of a hat, and I just want to hide.  I feel gipped.  Most days, I don't have the energy to put up a good fight.  In a life in which your own body continually works against you, it's hard to have hope.  I want to feel bitter, I want to be bitter.  I don't want to have to play nice, be nice and move on.

This wasn't my plan.  My plan was for a house full of kids.

I know there is a part of me that continues to hope if I repeat "Having another baby is impossible" enough times, God will rear up and shout "NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR ME, CHILD!"  He did that with Avery, and I just, even if I'm lying to myself, need to believe, at least for now, that it can happen again.

This wasn't my plan.  I can't tell you how many times I've said this in the past fourteen years.

Funny how that happens.  This--NONE of this--wasn't my plan, but it obviously is part of His plan.  I'm having one of those "Could you maybe just clue me in a bit, here" weeks.  Is it possible for Him to let me in on His plan?  Even just a hint?

Yesterday I stood in church during praise and worship with tears streaming down my face.  I couldn't stop them. This has become my norm, and I know there is still more to come.  I prayed, "Lord, please let this mess be for Your good."  Please, let something good come out of this.  Not because I'm ready to martyr myself, not because I want to look, act like, be a martyr, but because I need something positive to come out of the negative.

With Avery, God gave me a tremendous testimony.  With the recovery and remission that came with his pregnancy and birth, I found an incredible story to share with others.  I am called to share it with others, to give hope, to share faith and God's promise--THIS, this is what our God can do.

I don't know what this chapter of my journey holds for me as an individual, or us as a family, but I do have to believe it won't be for naught.  I need to believe we will look back on it and think, "Ohhh, I see it now."  I need to continue to believe in the good, and have faith even when I don't like what's happening.

Even in the storm, praise Him.

Depression and Honesty

It's no secret I really struggled through the winter.  Depression and anxiety reared their ugly heads every chance I gave them, and then some.  I know that, for the most part, it's par for the course for me.  It starts settling in around the end of September, and I finally start seeing daylight again by March.  It's a pattern, and I know it's going to happen.

This year, as I looked forward to March, looked forward to coming out of my self imposed hibernation, we were slammed with the infertility news.  I still can't say that without breaking down.  It's been hard for me.  I have isolated myself, closed myself off emotionally, and hidden.  I have kept conversations at a surface level, and stopped the tears each time.  I'm afraid if I open the dam, it will break.

The thing is, when I suffer, so does my family.  And that's not fair to them.

The other thing is, I have really great friends who have also fought this battle, and they aren't afraid to call me on it.

After three little mini-breakdowns (that have become the norm) while I was driving with Avery in the car today, I admitted to a friend (in a text, of course, because saying it out loud is too much)--it might be time to go back on meds.  I hate them, but I know I need them.  My dear friend agreed, saying she has been waiting for an opportune time to talk to me about it, after watching me since this winter.

This is not a weakness.  It is an illness, and not one that I can necessarily help.  It's not something I like, something I asked for, or something I encourage in myself.  It simply is.  There is no sin I have not repented for, this is not a punishment (even when it feels like it), and I have not done anything wrong to deserve this.  I simply need a little extra help, a boost to get back on my feet.

Motherhood as a Ministry

I did not enter into motherhood with grace and ease.  Rather, I entered into it kicking and screaming, completely questioning God's chosen path for me.  Surely He'd made a mistake!  At the time, I knew I was doing it all wrong, but as I watched other mothers of  children Noah's age, I couldn't quite put my finger on what they were doing all right.

I have since eased up on myself.  There are times I still question God's judgement here, but I know now that motherhood was always my path.  I still struggle with it (who doesn't), but I know this is where I'm meant to be at this moment in time.  Motherhood is hard, but I've learned it is not because of what I'm doing wrong, it is simply the nature of the beast. I have learned a multitude of lessons in the past almost 14 years, after all, motherhood is on-the-job-training!

At this point in my parenting life, the benefits are constantly outweighing anything else.  I have learned to relax, I have learned to let go of my quest for perfectionism (okay, so I'm still working on that one), I have learned to correct mistakes and apologize for those mistakes, and, perhaps most importantly, I have learned I am not alone in this.  There are plenty of other moms going through exactly what I am, including the days I don't roll out of bed immediately prepared to 'mom.'  I have built a network of support, and if I am alone, it is because of my own hand.

One other thing I'm learning is that I really do have great kids.  It's humorous to me when people apologize upon finding out I have a teenager--but really, he's a great kid!  Having great kids certainly makes things easier too!

Occasionally I go through a "I haven't done anything with my life" phase, and I think--I should have a  job!  I should go back to school!  I should have a career!  I'm missing out!  l should have a passion!  I should have a purpose!  When will it be MY time, MY turn???

And I realize...  Motherhood isn't about me.  It's about them, my children.  This is their time, their turn--and I need to be home for them.  They need me, and I need them.  I need to know I'm doing everything I can to raise them up, to encourage them, to cheer them on, to teach them to fail, so I can then teach them how to come back from failure.  This IS my career. They ARE my purpose. And I have done a lot with my life--I am raising up to God-praising gentlemen who know they come first in my life, and will know how to do the same for their children.

It is incredible to me how many don't see motherhood as a calling, or a career, or as anything more than herding cats.  With Avery entering kindergarten in the fall, I've already been asked many times if I will get a job.  I reply, "I already have one."  So they ask, "No, a real job." And I reply, "I.  ALREADY.  HAVE.  ONE."  Seriously, Avery entering school does not mean my children will need me any less.  In fact, with Noah entering in the life of teenage-dom, I think he will need me even more!  I need to be available to my kids, and they need to know I'm available to them.

Recently, I was truly convicted in this new mindset of motherhood as a ministry, rather than a battlefield or inconvenience or hassle.  Last fall I resigned from my position where I was volunteering--the only thing at the time that identified me as something other than a mom and a wife--because I realized even that short time I spent in preparation for it each week was taking away from my kids.  I couldn't do both well, I couldn't give time to both my home life and my volunteer job as they deserved.  This week, a dear friend did the same, resigning from a job she loved and was great at; she said to me, "Amy, I have a child starting high school in the fall and life is just too short."  It's true.  Life is just too short to not stop and be the mom my boys need and deserve.  I have only--ONLY--five more years with Noah before he leaves for college!  Avery is two weeks shy of five and I have no idea how or when that happened!

So, here it is--motherhood is my ministry.  And there is nothing easy about being in ministry--but I will tell you this, it's always, ALWAYS, worth it.  When you put your heart and soul into something and see the results--the struggle, and the growth, are worth it.

Now, who's going to remind me of all of this two weeks into summer break when I'm pulling my hair out?!?!?!