‘I just need to vent’

We’ve all heard the phrase, ‘I just need to vent’, or uttered it yourself a time or twelve…hundred. It seems harmless and often can be. Sometimes you just need to blow off some steam so you can let things go.

At what point have you crossed the line though?

Are you talking about them to problem solve? Or are you just trying to make yourself feel better? Because when you talk about them behind their back you not only slander their name, but drive a wedge between the two of you. It may seem like a small, insignificant wedge at first. But, each time you ‘vent’ the wedges stack up.

Before you know it, you’ve built a wall. It starts to block your view and the person begins looks different. You can only see parts of them through the cracks until eventually you can’t see them anymore. They’re covered by the wall with your words.

Just stop. Have some self-respect and stop. They’re not the enemy, you are.

Stop the venting and gossiping and you’ll start to see how much easier it is to love people when you speak goodness about them. You’ll see how much better you feel about yourself when you let go of hate.

We all have parts of us that need shined. Including you. Choose to love instead of hate. Choose kindness. Be gentle. Have some self-control.

Start loving yourself by spreading goodness about others. You’ll never regret being kind.

Kindness always wins. Every time.

Luck. Smuck.

Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her.

–Proverbs 31:28

I have a connective tissue disorder that makes staying hydrated pretty difficult sometimes. I need IV fluids periodically, more so when I’m pregnant. We moved to small town America a little over 4 years ago. The staff at our local outpatient center saw me start to finish through pregnancy #3 with our now 2.5 year old. They also saw my heartache and tears when we lost baby #4. Now, at 22 weeks, with baby #5, we start another journey together of ‘keep Sarah pregnant and baby healthy and viable as long as possible’. When I came in this time around to start our weekly visits, I was told perhaps the most wonderful thing I have ever heard in my 16.5 years of being a Momma. ‘Your children are going to rise and call you blessed someday. They can never say you didn’t fight for them.’ Never more loving words have been spoken over me in my life. In fact, it resonates so deep within my soul that I cannot even explain the depth and peace that statement brings. Somebody gets it. They know. I have truly fought so incredibly hard for all my children.

Every good and perfect gift is from above.

–James 1:17

It’s no secret that I’m a stay a home mom. I had to go off work at 10 weeks with baby #3 and only recently returned to nursing on an as needed basis. More so because I missed my patients, but also because we found a sitter that I trust wholeheartedly with our youngest. I typically work about one day a week and luckily my hours are flexible to meet the demands of my husband’s job. I waited and prayed long and hard for the perfect job that I could physically do and would work with our family’s needs. I’m so glad I conceded to God’s timing and not mine. I truly love where I am.

I’ve been told repeatedly over the last 3 years how lucky I am to be a SAHM. Often times it’s said with an underlying hint of jealousy or sarcasm. But, one time in particular, it was said in such a way that I felt the person saying it thought I didn’t realize how ‘lucky’ I was. As if they were imparting great words of wisdom on a concept I was blissfully unaware of. That encounter has stayed with me all these years. ‘Of course I know how lucky I am’, I have thought over and over. Never knowing why it bothered me so much to hear it said the way it was.

Until tonight.

It has been nagging me because this person didn’t understand something vitally important: I would be a SAHM regardless of my husband’s salary.

What we are lucky enough to be is not dirt floor poor. I am not lucky to be a SAHM. It is a choice we made before we even had baby #3. It was a choice I made for myself, before I met my husband while I was a single mom for 9 years. A single mom fighting for her children who had chronic health problems and a significant heart history. A single mom who was working full time while going to nursing school. Staying home, for me, is a choice. In fact, I recall before we were even engaged telling my husband that I would never, ever have more children unless I could stay home. It was a choice made long before our babies were a reality.

Raising a family can hardly be equated to winning the lottery. Sacrifices are made regularly. Accusing us (or any other family that chooses to have a stay at home parent) of having some special kind of luck is insulting. It is insulting to me, personally. It is insulting to how we choose to raise our children. And, frankly, it is insulting to my husband. He is an amazing man. He has been blessed with a talent, ability and an incredible heart. He will do anything for us. In fact, he will do just about anything for anyone who asks. Sometimes to a fault. He works a full time job, a part time job, 2 volunteer jobs and serves on numerous committees. I swear he would run himself into the ground doing for others if he didn’t have his hard-headed, sometimes temperamental wife coming along beside him and insisting he stay home once in a while.

We live in a society that is fast paced and typically dual-income, either by choice or necessity. For those of us with a SAHP there are often deep-seeded reasons for bucking the norm. Some of us have no choice, due to health complications for either ourselves or our children. Some of us have special needs kids that require anything from total care to mostly self-sufficient care, but can’t be left to their own devices. Some of us just plain old hold tight to strong personal values about child rearing and refuse to conform to modern American society trends.

My point is this: unless you have something genuinely kind and supportive to say about a parent’s stay at home status then you need to zip it. Jealousy is hardly attractive and nobody cares to see it spewing from your mouth disguised as a complement. Also, remember that no matter how well you think you know a family’s situation; you don’t. You absolutely don’t. Period. You don’t know what has brought them to their decision. The sacrifices, struggles or finances. You don’t know what has broken their hearts. You don’t know what drives them day in and day out to fight for their family the way they do.

My hope is that someday my kids will not only rise up and call me blessed, but that they will hold a deep sense of honor and respect for their father. Because let me tell you, I may have fought to bring them into this world, but their father is the one fighting to provide for them. I may be the teacher of all things from how to brush your teeth to how to handle peer pressure, but he is the one putting the roof over their head, feeding them and clothing them. He is the one pulled in a dozen directions; trying to be enough to everyone else making demands of him. Trying his hardest to sort it all out, please everyone and find a balance. He is the one striving for me. For the kids. He does it all for us. For our choices. Our ideals. Our deep convictions and beliefs.

It has nothing to do with luck.

Dear Bully of a SAHM *newsflash* we all deserve respect.

Listen to this:

I was told recently that I don’t deserve respect for being a stay at home mom. 

Whoa. Let that sink in a minute. In the year 2016, this is still a thing? Mothers not deserving respect for raising their babies? 

Some background on me

Before I was remarried and pregnant with our daughter, I was a single mom to 2 amazing boys for 9 years. An actual single mom. Not one of those moms that pretends she is because her husband works long hours, travels for days or is otherwise absent. I was divorced without a baby Daddy to help. Financially, emotionally or otherwise for much of those years. During my season as a single mom I worked full time in a hospital. My last few years as a single, full time working mother I spent putting myself through nursing school. If you’re a nurse, you’ll understand that’s *kind of* a big deal. Now, I had a LOT of help from my parents. They graciously allowed us to live with them and would pick my boys up from daycare and watch them on weekends so I could work. I don’t know how I would have managed to keep my job and raise my kids at the same time without them helping. It truly does take a village.

When I was a single mother, I never advertised it. I was too busy actually being a mother and working to waste precious time complaining or demanding accolades for taking care of my responsibilities. I also never once put down a SAHM. 

Fast forward to becoming a stay at home mom.

It was literally a dream of mine to stay home and raise my babies myself. To not have to rely on other people to help. To be independent in their care and get to selfishly love on them all day, every day. When I was working I longed for the days of no more tears at daycare drop off. I couldn’t wait to never miss another concert, play, game or award ceremony. I wanted to be able to make sure the house was clean and my family was fed healthy meals. When I met my husband, we talked about those hopes and dreams for our future family.

Harsh realities.

A little over two years ago, when I was pregnant with our daughter, I had to stop working as a Trauma ICU nurse. I was high risk from some health complications and sadly, worked my last day in the unit at 10 weeks. Which was about 8-10 weeks sooner than we thought. I’m not lying when I say that I cried every single day until she was born because I missed working so much. I had lost a huge part of who I was. I felt empty and without purpose. Even though I had my boys that needed me and a little beeb growing inside of me, I was still devastated. I was not at all prepared for how lonely I would feel and the huge void that the ICU would leave behind. 

I had allowed myself to be defined by the work I was doing. 

To make matters worse, it seemed I was loosing respect from various people in my life. Since I no longer worked, my value became diminished to them. It didn’t matter that it was for my health and the well-being of our children. It didn’t matter that I’ve needed 2 cardiac procedures within a year of each other. Comments came from strangers, family and friends. Some people I just stopped talking to altogether. Life is hard enough without jealous “friends”. I don’t judge them for their choices, why should I have to put up with theirs? Some people asked legit, concerned questions about my career or lack thereof. 

This wasn’t at all how I thought it would be. I was always happy for the moms I knew that got to stay home. Why can’t people be happy for me? Why can’t they be nice? 

For my own well-being, I had no choice, but to start ignoring the bullies and focus 100% on my job of raising kids. In all actuality I don’t like to talk about being a SAHM. I know it is a touchy subject for some people so I rarely ever mention it unless someone else brings it up. 

Just like when I was a full time, working mother I’ve been too consumed actually being a mother to shout to the world that I get to stay home. I mean whose business is it anyway? It never even occurred to me that my worthiness of respect would be in play here. 

No, thank you. 

Today I’m gonna shout it as loud as I can. My husband kills it at work so I can stay home. So step off. 

I am on a mission now. Not just for me, but for all the SAHMs, past and present. 

Truth be told, it has never once occurred to me that I should be demanding respect for something as basic as raising my kids. I’m just doing my job as a mom. Trying not to kill anyone in the process. 

So, with all that being said, here’s my super basic breakdown about mommin’, in case anyone is still unsure…

1. ALL MOTHERS DESERVE RESPECT, no matter what their job status. If you are taking care of your child, providing for their needs and doing your best to raise them right, then you deserve the utmost respect. Raising kids is hard.
2. Every single mother makes sacrifices. Period. For example, sacrifices I have made recently are years out of my career and apparently foregoing the respect of others. (Who knew?) ***To be clear: I have not sacrificed having ‘time away’. Despite popular opinion of some nay-sayers, time management comes pretty easy to most and I’m generally able to find some perfectly fine without needing a paying job to fulfill that need. 
3. Our lives as SAHMs can still exist beyond the four walls of our homes. I, personally, have been blessed to be able to use my skills as a RN to volunteer in a free clinic. Which is something I would not otherwise be able to do if I were working full time because let’s face it…me being half dead on my days off doesn’t really leave much time for anything else, including raising kids. 

Here’s the take home folks, I don’t believe in patting people on the back for doing basic everyday life. We all have a life. We all have challenges and make sacrifices. I do, however, very much believe in showing kindness, respect and appreciation for others. I’m also a huge supporter of standing up to bullies and defending the little guy. 

So, if you are wondering if a mother deserves respect or not, I hope this helped to clear that up. 

Don’t ya’ll think raising kids be so much easier without having to deal with this crap? It’s is almost 2017, people. Get a grip.

A letter to my Daughter: The one I always wanted and never thought I’d have.

Dear Abby,

Tonight is the eve of your second birthday. Tonight I laid you down for the last time as a one year old. You snuggled into your flowered nursery bedding and horsey pillow case, clutching your pink puppy and blankie while Elmo (the chosen one this evening) lay next to you. I said a prayer of thanksgiving for you and asked for protection over our home. I kissed your sweet cheeks and forehead and ran my fingers through your hair. A routine no different than any other night.

Tonight is different though. Tonight is your last night as my baby and tomorrow you will wake up a 2 year old. Tomorrow you will be a full fledged toddler and I can longer, in good conscious, refer to you as a baby. We’ll enter new stages like teaching you how to use the potty, how to sleep without fooey and eventually in a big girl bed. Tomorrow when you wake up, I’ll ask how old you are and you’ll proudly exclaim, “Two!” while holding up 5 chubby little fingers.

I look at you with your messy, beautiful curls and deep green eyes and it’s almost too much to bare sometimes. I waited so long for you. There were times I thought I’d never meet you. I waited years and  I eventually gave up. I sold baby clothes and belongings little by little, until eventually all I had left was a small collection for each of your brothers to keep. A newborn Santa suit for Eli, his first pair of shoes, and a favorite musical stuffed animal. A tiny, doll sized outfit and a blanket for Ethan. Little mementos just for them. Nothing more, nothing less.

When I met your Daddy my hope came back. After we were married we prayed for you. For guidance and wisdom to make the best choice. We put our trust in God and waited to see what would happen. We knew it was risky. All the Doctors said so. But, they said we could try and they would help us. They said it would be hard, but that I’d be okay.

A few months went by with no luck. I questioned what we were doing. I was discouraged. I cried. I was apathetic that last month. And then, finally, I was pregnant.

I knew it was you. 

Daddy and I talked about girl and boy names. We could never settled on a boy name. But, your name, Abigail Ann; we were certain. The Hebrew and English meanings are ‘my Father’s joy’ and ‘merciful’. You, my love, are your Father’s joy and I can only hope that someday you are as merciful and kind as your late Great Grandmother, Ann Marie.

The day we walked into the ultrasound, Daddy and I literally made a shot gun decision in the parking lot to find out what we were having. Up until that day we were set on not finding out. I’m so glad we changed our minds. When the tech announced that it was you, I was so overjoyed. I was practically sobbing because I was so happy.

It was finally you.

We had a rocky road while you were growing. Early labor, too many contractions, not enough fluids, and too many heart arrhythmias. The list goes on. I set goals for you and we made it through each milestone one at a time. From viability at 24 weeks all the way to delivery at 37. I was rarely nervous for your survival, I just wanted you to be as healthy as possible. At 30 weeks you worked so hard to get contractions organized that we had to visit L&D and then again at 35 weeks you pressed so hard on my aorta that Daddy’s friends had to take me for a ride in the squad.  We survived allergic reactions, infected PICC sites and annoying heart monitors. We spent so much time at ACC that we got to know the nurses like family. Through it all, I always knew you would be okay.

I couldn’t wait to meet you, the one I was fighting for. 

Little one, on this eve of your second birthday, I want you to know just how much you have been fought for. Not only have you bought and paid for by the blood of Jesus, but also by your Momma.

The determination you have had since day one. The will power, commitment and stamina you have to not give up. You come by it all honestly. We are cut from the same cloth, love. Your insatiable thirst for adventure and inquisitive nature. Your humor and ability to crack pint sized jokes at such a young age. Those qualities are what make you unique. God took the best parts of Daddy and I and gave them to you.

For you created my inmost being, you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

Psalm 139:13

There will be days that it will be hard to be Abby. It will be hard to carry a willful nature gracefully. But, I pray that as you grow older that you are able to embrace your qualities and realize they are your assets. I pray that you will know deep in your heart that you have been created for goodness. I pray that you are able to someday open yourself to all the possibilities in front of you and trust in Him while you walk through them. I pray that you remember, even in your stubbornness and sorrows, to always give thanks to God.

I pray that you will know this truth: you have been intentionally made and you are so incredibly loved.

As we begin this next chapter of your life, I’m hopelessly optimistic that these formative toddler years are going to be some of the best times we’ll ever have. I have loved every minute of your being and I cannot wait to see who you will become next.

With all the love in my heart,

Mommy

xo

 

Photo by Mandy Bosiljevac, Uptown Images

 

every little thing is gonna be okay

Everything happens for a reason. When I say that it’s not because I’m being careless, heartless or insensitive. I’m not minimizing or making light of a situation. I’m having faith. Faith that every…

Source: every little thing is gonna be okay

every little thing is gonna be okay

Everything happens for a reason.

When I say that it’s not because I’m being careless, heartless or insensitive. I’m not minimizing or making light of a situation. I’m having faith. Faith that everything is working together, step by step to reach an end goal. That all the fibers of my life or yours are being carefully woven together with purpose.

Overtime I learned how to trust in that little phrase. I’d say it to myself as a comforting reminder. It spoke to my soul. It was a gentle reminder that everything was going to be okay.

I’m not naive.

I have faith.

The last few years have had more than their share of troubles. It is damn hard to move from a city to the country. To uproot your family and everything they’ve ever known. To leave your job and that you dreamed of retiring from and your friends and family. To trust where you’re landing that you’ll be met with open arms. Accepted and loved just for being you.

There have been more times than I’d like to admit that I lost focus. I couldn’t see the reasons for the indescribable life events that were happening. I missed my home and so desperately wanted to leave. My world wasn’t making sense. My comforting phrase became less a leap of faith and more a droning, nagging thought.

So much has been happening in our lives lately. Sicknesses, court battles over an innocent child and financial stress. The list goes on. Everybody has a list. This year I vowed to work on being more content. I’m telling you, since Day One the hits have not stopped. I’m starting to think that praying to be content is like praying for patience. I’ll be real, I wised up years ago and stopped praying for patience. Apparently, I’m not wise enough these days. Ha.

The other morning something happened. I went in to get our blessing up from bed and she embraced me in a hug. A hug that said ‘Good morning, I missed you so much last night. I love Daddy too, but please stop leaving me before bedtime’. As soon as I held her I started to cry. She just looked up at me, laid her head back down, and patted my shoulder ever so sweetly and I stood there and cried.

Every little thing is gonna be okay.

I have an amazing husband that protects me and fights for me in ways that no man ever has. I can truly say that he is my person. My best friend. I wouldn’t want to live a day on this earth without him. I have three beautiful children that love me endlessly. I don’t know what I did to deserve such amazing gifts, but I am so glad they are mine.

I have been through so much and I’ve always been okay.

God’s got this too.

Everything happens for a reason. We will all be okay. He’s got us.

---

Faith does not make things easy, it makes them possible. -Luke 1:37

Matters of the Heart

A mother’s journey of healing her heart.

Source: Matters of the Heart

Matters of the Heart

1 in 10,000-15,000 worldwide are diagnosed with Ehler-Danlos Syndrome, hypermobility type.

Paroxysmal SVT has a prevalence of 0.2% in the U.S.

Heart failure affects about 5.1 million people in the U.S., where only 14.7% of people will survive 10 years.

0.4% of all hospital admissions in the U.S. are related to digitalis toxicity.

Cardiac ablations have over a 90% success rate.

-statistics taken from the NIH website

I was born with a genetic condition called Ehler-Danlos syndrome. I wasn’t diagnosed until age 22. I have had 2 EP studies to attempt to correct SVT. SVT that was being treated with medication for over 10 years. The first study was futile since I had developed digoxin toxicity with subsequent heart block. Heart block from the Digoxin I was taking to treat the heart failure I had developed. The last EP study with ablation was done this past September and seems to be working. We’ll see how I do long term. I haven’t had heart failure in well over 5 years; I was cured.

I seem to fall into the medical category of ‘ rare shit that happens to people’.

1 in 4

One in four women has a miscarriage. I had three pregnancies with three live births. The fourth one terminated spontaneously during my 1^st trimester.

A seemingly common, yet horrible occurrence.

{I’d rather be back in that first category of people}

---

 

I cried on Valentine’s Day.

My husband bought me a very thoughtful gift that I loved. I got the teenagers candy, the toddler fun things to do and play and I managed to keep secret some really cute pictures from a photography session of our youngest for Daddy. My husband was home on time from his 24 hour shift which meant we’d get to eat a lazy breakfast together *and* he had gotten a halfway decent nights sleep which meant it would be an afternoon nap kind of day.

I tried so hard to be a happy, well-adjusted wife and mother that day, but I cried. I cried when the cramps started in the shower that morning. A monthly reminder that I am no longer pregnant. This month just happened to be the day before our expected due date. I cried that morning like I haven’t for months. The kind of tears that just fall and you can’t make them stop.

I’m not big on saying how unfair things are. But, this…this seemed unfair. It was like a really bad, awful prank.

But, I know there is a plan. I don’t know what it is, but I believe wholeheartedly that there is one.

I intentionally attempt to find the good in all circumstances. As much as it crushes my Mommy heart to say it, I can see the good in loosing our baby. {I absolutely despise saying that by the way. I would selfishly take him in my arms today over any rational reason of why he’s not here.}

I was able to have an ablation with an over 90% success rate this past September because I had miscarried in July. I was moved from the ‘not allowed to have more babies’ into the ‘you can have as many as you want’ category by my cardiologist. Life is so much less complicated when you have permission from your Doctors to do normal people stuff.

Maybe my stats will start to improve now. I don’t really know. But, in the meantime I’ll trust the process, just like I always have. There is no room for ugliness in a heart when it’s already been broken so many times. You have to do your best to care for what’s left or you’ll be left with nothing to sustain you.

Sweet baby boy,

you stole my heart

and I never even got to hold you in my arms.

Happy hearts day,

my love.

I can’t wait to see you someday.

 

 

Suite up and Show up.

A letter to the woman who lost her son. From a newly bereaved mother.

Source: Suite up and Show up.

Suite up and Show up.

Every week I go for allergy shots. When I was pregnant with our daughter I started having hypersensitive responses to allergens. I was pretty much in a state of constant itching and hives beginning with my second trimester until delivery. I had to take way more steroids and Benadryl than I ever wanted to while pregnant. After delivery I saw an allergist and found out that I was allergic to just about the entire outdoors and several more indoor allergens. Hence, the shots. And because I am so awesome, I get lumped into the category of patients who are not allowed to leave for 15-20 minutes after their shot.

Thankfully, it’s usually a quiet affair. I’ve been going since Abby was teeny tiny so she’s used to it. We sit patiently in the waiting room and leave. No big deal.

Every once in a while my daughter will catch another patient’s eye and prompt a friendly conversation of who has how many kids, grandkids, etc. Last week we met a Grandma who was enamored with my daughter. It was cute at first and then became slightly annoying when Abby toppled over and Grandma over exaggerated her fall. Of course the lady’s concerned reaction sparked an episode of dramatic crocodile tears. {Abby is my 3^rd child, I do not make a big deal about falls.} So being a good, albeit embarrassed Momma, I indulged her ‘front and center solo’ and attempted to comfort her. The best part of the entire thing was when she transitioned to a muted wail with the expression of ‘I’m not really sure why I’m still crying’. Yes, dear, I know. Neither do I.

*sigh*

You see I am from a city. City people do not tell every stranger they meet all their personal business. It’s not what we do. You may occasionally make pleasantries with someone, but that’s it. It’s not for lack of being polite, it’s out of respect. You are busy, others are busy and you respect their time and space. I have never in my life spoken so much to complete strangers as I have since moving to a small town. I am getting better at it, but it is still a struggle at times. How much is okay to share? What is safe to share? Or, I’m on a timeline and need to be somewhere.

This conversation, however, brought up a new level of sharing for me that I wasn’t prepared for. She started to tell me about her children and grandchildren, where they lived, what they did, who was dead.

She had lost a son.

I had lost a baby.

I had something in common that I could share. Shoot, I’m thinking too much. Darn it, I’m being silent. She’s going think she made you uncomfortable.

But, I lost a baby.

Snap out of it. She’s still talking. Maybe she didn’t notice the silence. Crap, I am really sorry that I spaced out. …You’re still not paying attention. Pay. Attention.

“Mmm hmm, yeah, I can’t imagine how hard it is having your kids all over the world like that.”

Good save. Shew.

Maybe I should say it now? I could probably bring it up without crying. I don’t feel like I’m gonna cry.

No, don’t. The moment has passed.

But, I lost a baby. He is apart of me.

---

To the Grandma who was annoyingly overly kind and friendly and over exaggerated my daughter’s fall:

I heard you. I heard your loss. I heard you missing him in your voice. I heard you make light hearted laughter when you talked about him. I heard your love. And I am sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t respond like I should have. I’m sorry if it appeared that I ignored you when you spoke about him. I wasn’t. I promise. I was lost in my thoughts about our baby. Our baby who would have been due this month.

I don’t know who was helping who that day for those 20 minutes in the office. But, I do know that when we parted ways and I told you that it was nice meeting you; that I really meant it. It was nice to meet you and I’m sorry for your loss.

Signed,

A fellow Mother of an Angel.