Thank Your Spouse

I hate traffic.  And when I say 'traffic,' I'm talking about the rare 2-3 instances a week I have to deal with a 30-40 minute drive in moderately heavy everyone-needs-to-get-to-where-they're-going-before-everyone-else traffic, while Captain Motormouth talks about everything and anything in the back seat, and Admiral Backseat Driver analyzes anything and everything from the front seat, all of it making my head spin.  I fume at the texters, the fiddlers, the not-paying-attentioners, all putting my children at risk because their secondary task is more important than their primary task, which is driving.

Then there's my husband.  He drives 5 times a week, 1 1/2-2 hours to and from work, in heavy kill-or-be-killed traffic.  He expertly (I say 'expertly' because he makes it home alive and in one piece every night) maneuvers around the texters, the fiddlers, the ones with better things to do than drive, carefully making his way to work, or home to us.  At the end of his drive, the last thing he wants to do at night is take over for me, breaking up fights, putting Avery through the bath, and getting the boys through their bedtime routines; he does not want to head back in the direction he just came from to take Noah to Scouts, hang out in town until it's time to pick Noah up from practice, or go to Bible study so that he doesn't get home until 9 pm--but that's what he does. And he does it for us.  Because he loves us.  What I can do for him is have dinner on the table, and his soda in my hand when he walks through the door (don't worry, I draw the line at a smoking jacket and slippers....).  I can greet him with love, enthusiasm and a grateful heart.  He comes home tired and worn out, but he still has a smile for us.

Traffic makes me all the more grateful for my husband. It reminds me to be patient with him, and of all the things he does so I don't have to.  It reminds me that I get to stay home with our kids, which is something we decided is important to our family.  Traffic makes me grateful for all he does for our family, and everything he sacrifices.  I really don't know how he does it.  Four hours on the road each day means four hours lost with our kids, it means time lost for us as a couple, and as a family.  It means his stress level goes up, along with his frustration and blood pressure.  His health takes a huge hit.

Don't forget to thank your spouse.  Tell him or her why you're grateful for all they do, and remind them daily you are thankful just because they're who they are.

Thankfulness.... In 90 Seconds or Less

Shawn and I have been asked to share our testimony concerning infertility with our church as part of the November sermon series on thankfulness.  The catch?  We have to sum up 10 years of angst in 90 seconds or less.  What WHAT???  Don't they know me?  Please tell me they really meant 90 minutes...  Oh heck, just let me do the whole sermon series!

I asked a friend today if I can just say, "God is amazing, medical science can suck it."  Can I say "suck it" in church?

I really don't even know where to start.  I thought maybe if I sat down and started this post, divine inspiration will strike.  Or, maybe somewhere in this post, Shawn and I will find the testimony God wants us to give.

Don't misunderstand me, I know my testimony.  Shawn and I know ours.  What I'm getting hung up on is the 90 second part--what is the most important part of our testimony? What, out of this entire mess, do others need to hear the most?

We've seen my lab results. I've had countless tests, and we've seen the results over and over and over.  We've heard the damning words from my doctors, over and over and over. This past May, my latest work up showed I had no discernible female hormones at all.  My thyroid and adrenal levels were in the dumpster.  My endocrine system was so incredibly out of whack, my doctor wasn't even sure if we could fix it well enough for me to function, and certainly not well enough for me to conceive.  On paper, we never should've been able to conceive.  Between illness and the medications necessary, my body was just destroyed. When my doctors told us there was no way we would have another child after Noah, I believed them.  Things looked even more dire after Avery.  Medical science cannot explain our children.

I can.

Here's the other thing I'm getting hung up on--the whole thankfulness thing.  It's taken us a while to get to this point--maybe me more than Shawn.  I've journeyed through some massive bitterness to get to the point where I woke up and realized I already had Noah, and then when we had Avery--we already had two incredible kids, and there I was, bitter because God wouldn't give us a third child, in my time frame?  Bitter because God wasn't doing things my way, so I what I heard was, "NO!" rather than, "Not yet."  The death my doctors spoke to us sent me into a tailspin that lasted years, and I couldn't hear anything other than their words.  I couldn't hear anything other than my own anger.  I couldn't hear the life God was so desperately trying to speak to me.

I feel like a hypocrite telling people I was thankful through the entire ordeal.  It won't ring true to anyone's ears.  I know that I can't start there.  I have to start at the beginning with the tears, the devastation and the anger.

The truth is, Shawn has been more trusting and faithful through all of this than I have.  When I wanted to give up, when I yelled about my stupid body, when I was angry, when I screamed and cried about the injustice of it all--Shawn was the rational one.  He would reply, "Doctors are stupid.  God is good.  Trust Him."  He would remind me that we don't know what God can do, but we do know He is the great healer, that nothing is impossible for Him.  Shawn loved me through it, and in that, I hit my breakthrough and started to trust more, to believe more, to know more.

So, why am I thankful?  I'm thankful to have a Father and a husband who never give up on me.  I'm thankful to have the blessing of two amazing boys, and another child on the way.  I'm grateful for these people in my life I never thought I would have.  I'm grateful for the problems we have, that other people would love to have.  I know how 'lucky' we are, and I try to not take that for granted.  I'm even thankful that I know everything that can go wrong, because those trials are what make me appreciate what I do have as much as I do.

It's Not What I Expected... and I'm Glad

I had the tv on this morning, just noise in the background while I took care of some chores.  I wasn't paying much attention, but something caught my ear and made my head whip around.  I actually rewound the movie to be sure I heard it correctly.

One of the characters was confronting her estranged mother after years of not speaking.  The mother bitterly replied, "Motherhood is not what I expected, and you kids weren't exactly easy."  The mother then continued to blame the adult daughters for everything that she felt had gone wrong with her life.

I've heard this before, and not from a movie.  Maybe not in so many words, or so succinctly, but there it was.

So, here's the thing--motherhood is certainly not what I expected either.  From day one, it has not been the romanticized version I had built up in my head.  I can tell you that I never expected my children to have such varying age ranges, I did not expect to have boys, I did not expect to be raising a child on the spectrum, and, at one point, I didn't even expect to have more than one child.  I also did not expect the many daily rewards, the hugs, and feelings of self worth, the pride and love that make my heart swell until I'm in tears.  While it may not be the romanticized version I dreamed of, it's certainly not the absolute worst, dysfunctional movie version either!

Are my kids easy?  Oh, heck no!  There are days I might trade that for a little bit less exhaustion, but it certainly would be boring if my kids were easy!  There are good days, and that's what we concentrate on.  There are also the days I realize that it's me, not my children, who is the difficult one, and those are some pretty serious lightbulb moments.  When things are going sideways, it's my attitude that counts.  It is up to me to keep things in perspective, and remind myself that I am the adult.

Is anything ever what we expect?  If everything always went as we expect, where would be the joys, the surprises, the spontaneity, the fun (the need for God, prayer and friendship...)? What would be the point to a scripted life? There are challenges in everything, but we work through them.  And then we embrace them, for they are what make us who we are.  There is also joy to be found in everything!  Those challenges and joys are how we grow, and how we learn.  If we don't do so, we become stagnant and bitter.  And at the end of the day, we agree, this life is not what we expected, but it sure is worth it.

I don't want to be the mother lamenting to her adult children about what horrible people they are, or blaming them for things beyond their control.  I want my children to know they are loved and cherished. Even more importantly, they need to know they are liked and wanted, and to know that it is an honor and a blessing to be able to raise them.  I want them to know that I need them just as much as they need me, if not more.  Being their mom is not what I expected, and I'm happy with that.