Scotty

Just a useless little post here:

The doll is Scotty. David's aunt made Scotty to look like David. We got him out of his parents' basement and brought him home with us over Thanksgiving. Thanks to the point-out from David's sister, I had fun watching all the people in the airport do double-takes as I carried him around with his head sticking out of my backpack. He's now in our living room.

The pic of Molly in my lap has a story: She spends about 2 hours every day sitting there asleep while I'm on-line. The laptop is just beyond my foot. She can't get out by herself. I have to slide a hand under her and hoist.

I plan to write a "normal" post later this week - 2 1/2 days more - it'll be soon.

Sweet Naivety

Journal excerpt. Sept.7
"God! I want my baby back! God, I’d hold her in my hands the next 8 months just to let her finish growing here. If I knew I wouldn’t be able to pick her back up, I’d never ever put her down. I’d do anything to keep her. Even just for another day, just so I had a chance to say good-bye before I have to wait until I die to have her again. God, anything."

Three little weeks and the universe shifts.

In the span of three weeks, I became a mother and became a childless mother. How does that happen?

I am left appearing as a young newlywed enjoying my years of "freedom" before settling down to raise a family. I must seem rather care-free, taking life as it comes. I probably look like one of the stereotypical fresh-out-of-college naive types.

I'm not naive.

But I, at one time, was naive about the idea that babies get to live. I thought that with few exceptions, mothers got to keep their babies. I'd heard horror stories. But I never thought I'd live one. Not my baby. Surely not mine. That's something that happens to other women. That's the kind of thing you hear about in church announcements and read in magazine articles. That doesn't happen to real people.

But then it happened. I lost a close family member before birth. And then I lost my own daughter. How does that happen? And why?

Why can't all mothers and mothers-to-be stay naive? People say "parents shouldn't outlive their children." Do they know how many DO? I'm not going to hunt for figures right now, but it's something like 1 out of 4 babies conceived that doesn't live. Voluntarily have 4 children and you may "volunteer" to lose one. One in four. Am I the only mama bothered by this?

I wouldn't trade out those 3 weeks of having my child for anything. But how I wish I was naive again.

The Mother

She's me. The Elder Sister. She's the protective big sister with the long red hair. Part little girl, but holding "her" baby. Still fragile herself, but caring for one more fragile. Thinking of the day she'll hold one of her own. But grateful for the one she holds now. She's me.







First, there was Monday. The day that I understood there was life in me. When we were excited. When I couldn't keep my hand off my hardening tummy. When I knew I'd be calling a midwife the following week. When my every thought started with "Is it better for the baby if I..."

Then there was Saturday. The day we understood it was over. When I tried to convince myself for the first time that I'd never had a baby. When I wanted to believe nothing was lost. When, for self preservation, I made sure to forget what it felt like to carry someone else.

Then there was Monday. The day I understood once again that there had been life in me. When the reality of loss, grief, motherhood, and dire need all hit. When I cried so hard I split my lip. When I spent 20 minutes sitting on the foot of the bed in the dark with my arms cramped down around a doll, rocking us both. When I first felt the conflict of wanting to be with my baby and wanting to be with my precious husband.

Then there was Saturday. The day my favorite girlfriend called to offer support. When I spent about an hour smiling because I saw that she cared. The day she called back. When she tried to tell me I never had a baby. The day I lost a friend. When I first put my child above someone else.

Then there was Friday. The day we sat shell-shocked as we heard our only child referred to with "if you really were pregnant," "the products of conception," and "the embryo." When D said he was proud of me for not murdering anyone. The day I understood that my very womanhood is wrapped around this millimeter-sized child.

Then there's Sunday. The day I watched D holding a red-headed baby girl. When all I could think of was how to twist the picture to make it look like he was holding our daughter. The day I watched him read a story to 2 little boys. When I sat trying to make his face look 5 years older, wanting to convince myself I'll be seeing this again someday. The day I sat staring at my dreams and trying to act normal about it.

Flashback 3 years: I'm sitting D down in a rocking chair, explaining how to "keep your arm behind her neck," laying a day-old baby in his arms. I'm thinking as I lay her in his arms that I'll be laying his own child in his lap someday. And D doesn't know I like him.

And then there is Monday. Today is the day I see that the man whose arms I long to lay our babies in is still the daddy in our family. When I see that this man is the protective father. When I see that what others see doesn't change who we are. This is the day I see that this woman who longs to lay the babies in their daddy's arms is still the mother in our family. When I see that this woman is a good mother. When I see that what others see doesn't change who we are.

She's me. The Mother. She's the protective mother with the long red hair. Part little girl, but holding her baby. Still fragile herself, but caring for one more fragile. Longing for the day she'll hold another of her own. But grateful for the one she holds now. She's me.

God Still Works

Howdy, Folks!

This is a puzzle D and I just finished - 1,000 pieces, about 2 x 2 1/2 feet. It took us about a month. Ten minutes to an hour here and there and voila! This started as a compromise between D wanting to play board games and me wanting to sit and talk for hours. Worked out beautifully!

God Still Works
In other news, I'm feeling better to the extent that I'm living like a normal person again! I'm back to being able to keep my daily routine that I'd set up a couple months before getting sick. One routine at a time, the house is looking like I'm taking care of it again. And somewhere in the 3 months of not always even being able to cook our food, I've lost my perfectionism. That should be beneficial to the rest of my life and will likely make me far less annoying to D and our kids. Glory be, I got my life back!

Getting deeper into this topic... Being normal again is a direct result of being prayed for this past Sunday. A group of about 5 gathered around me and prayed for me - pretty well informing my body it was just flat fine now. And by golly God answered! I'd (basically) been sick for 5 months up through Sunday, was prayed for, and Monday I was the H of 5 months ago again. This is Wednesday. I'm convinced.

One thing about it though: Remember the man whose eyes Jesus healed? The one who Jesus had to heal again because the first time hadn't been thorough. (The guy that said people looked like trees.)

Well, I don't understand that. And it seems like there must be a bigger explanation than "Jesus couldn't get it right." Nevertheless, I seem to be like that man. I am absolutely healed. D could confirm that. But I seem to be in "people look like trees" mode. There are mild residual pains that show up briefly, one of us prays about, and they vanish again.

To the best of my shallow understanding, this is just part of the spiritual war going on every moment. God heals me and Satan dares to challenge Him.

This has really been an amazing journey the last few days as D and I watch what my body does in response to ours and others prayers. I really wish that those of you close enough to us to bother reading this blog could be here to also be filled with wonder. At the same time, it's been awesome getting to just travel the road and learn with my dear hubby. At the least, I figure I can tell y'all about it here.

(Another note on this topic: I have had this happen before. I had a couple years worth of back and nerve pain that was caused by 3 herniated discs. It was a daily annoyance/problem for all that time. There came a point where I was fed up with it though. I knew at that time that God could and did heal people instantly as a result of prayer. Not having anyone else that believed that to pray for me, I did it myself. That was just as I fell asleep and within 5 minutes of waking up, it dawned on me, "Hey! It doesn't hurt! Nothing hurts!" That was at least 5 years ago. I'm still fine. In all that time, there have been no more than a half dozen instances where it hurt. They were all brief and mild.)

I am still treating the Lyme - no one panic. In fact, I put a ticker on the right side of the blog counting me down to the loveliness of not being on a synthetic med (ew.) Too, yesterday I ordered 12 8oz. boxes of soy noodles. That's right - nothin' but soy beans. They have got to be better than the spaghetti squash I tried to make mac n' cheese with last time! I'm sincerely hoping that carbs can re-enter my life at some point, even if in small amounts. Meanwhile, I'm counting my blessings that I can eat this way since I do need to. And I'm trying soy pasta.
Hehe - and we all thought D wouldn't eat many things.

Details
Tonight is our second-to-last marriage course/date thing. The last one next week will be a potluck.

Tomorrow night is the first meeting of our new house group. We're with a lot of the same people, but we're shaking things up a bit. I think we have about 15. Fortunately, D and I'll be driving to the same friends' house that we've been going to already. How convenient!

And half of you already know this, but my brother has gotten word that he'll be stateside again around February and have a month-long leave around March.

Toodles. Have a lovely.

Testing

Just testing.