Love, mommy

It's been one of those days. You know the ones where you just don't feel quite right in your own skin. It could be a result of the terrible back pain that I just can seem to shake. Just plain difficult to get comfortable. Or maybe it was the obscene amount of homework that took over my life. Maybe it was the fact that there were kids singing at church and I watched from a distance and didn't get to run up and hug them when they were done. It could have been that I had the great gift of walking around the church with my 2 1/2 month friend Gray "(not the baby in the picture) so his mommy could sit through the sermon, and it made my heart fill with joy and yearning for the presence of a child that I will never know. I know that is vague.

I am blessed with two beautiful children. I mean, despite their testing and pushing, they are wonderfully gifted and abundantly giving. They forgive and allow me great liberties with raising them. Unfortunately, I am not always the best Rosie I can be. Interesting how quickly my kids move from frustration to forgiveness with me. I don't think I transition as easily as they do. As these great blessings make me the person that I am, it is also the loss of the life within me that melded and shaped my heart.

Between Colin and Julia, Chris and I miscarried at @15 weeks. Colin was not yet a year when we realized I was pregnant. It was surprising, unexpected, and amazing. Colin was an easy baby. And all I could credit the blessing of another child to was that he slept so well through the night that Chris and I didn't know what to do with ourselves. Evidently, we found something to occupy our time. It was about this time in the year that we found out we were pregnant 11 years ago. We were afraid to tell our parents because we already knew that having a child while not having full time, stable jobs brought alarm and concern to those who loved us. Considering Chris had just applied and been accepted to the University of Illinois to begin work on his doctorate, it was an even more unstable situation to consider having another child. But, everyone knew that I wanted to have a house full of children. So, it was no surprise to them when we were pregnant again so soon.

Though it wasn't known to everyone, we had shared with our families. Chris and I were both doing our last production with Tri-Cities Opera. We both had leads in Don Giovanni, and rehearsals had begun. The day I miscarried, Chris was in Pennsylvania teaching and was not home. My sister-in-law was at our house with her 2 young boys to help me with Colin as rehearsals began. I remember the pain more than anything else. I remember calling Chris and telling him that something was wrong. I remember calling the doctor and going to be checked. He told me the baby was gone and the miscarriage was progressing normally. I would just need to go home and allow it to happen naturally.

There is not a manual or a book that talks you through what happens when life passes out of you. I remember crying through the pain. It lasted from the late morning late into the night. Chris didn't get home until the worst had passed. It was awkward having my sister in law there, though I was grateful. Part of me felt guilty for not being with Colin during the time that I was in such pain. I laid in bed. Between the moaning through the pain, I cried. I cried because I hurt. I cried because I thought I had done something wrong, that I had caused this loss. I sobbed and tried to stifle the sound so my sister-in-law wouldn't look in on me or feel obligated to say or do anything. I cried because I wondered what this child would have been. I grieved for Colin who would have had a sister or brother. There weren't words in those moments that I could use to explain what I felt.

Knowing that miscarriages happen, and often are indications that the baby wasn't developing or progressing healthily served as very little comfort. During that long day and night, there was no comfort. I knew God was with me, and I knew I would live. But, the pain and the sorrow were indescribable. If asked now about the worst pain I have ever been in, it would be that night. Both of my children were born naturally without pain intervention until after their births. But the pain of miscarriage was more intense and painful than having either child. Most likely it was the knowing that there would be no life on the other side of the pain.

The following day, the sun came up, and life seemed to go on unknowing of the loss I had experienced. I had rehearsal, errands, and care-taking. In a strange coincidence, I ran into my obstetrician at the post office that day. He asked me how I was doing, and if the pain had passed. I cried in that post office telling him that I was ok, and that life would go on. He assured me that it would and that I needed to take care of myself, not to push too hard. I heeded the advice, but still went to rehearsal and distracted myself with singing and learning. Colin also filled my heart with unspeakable joy. Chris was comforting and sad. He knew that my heart was broken. But, I don't think either of us took much time to consider what the loss would do to our hearts. I know I am still realizing the loss is real and the pain is compounded when I realize that there was a life inside of me that I never got to hold or love fully.

Julia came in the same year I miscarried. Two months after I miscarried, we were pregnant again. Yeah, still trying to occupy the 10 hours that Colin would sleep through the night. I know she is a gift, and that her life offered hope and joy abounding. There is no question that I was meant to be a mommy to Colin and Julia. It is also clear to me that I was and am a mother to a child who never breathed the air of this world. But, that little one is in the arms of my Father, who loves and cares in my absence. I will one day hold that baby in my arms. I will cry the tears that I cried upon seeing the sweet faces of my Colin and Julia. I will carry that baby as I carried Gray through the church today. The life of that little one who is being loved and cherished right this moment will be in my arms, greeting my family and friends who will share in my delight of being reunited.

That loss is as real today as ever. It is compounded by losses I experience on a regular basis. The losses of love, friendship, connectedness, and relationships. Realizing the fragility of life through humanity's hatred, misunderstanding and judgment deepens the pain from loss of the joy and life that grew inside of me. There will be a time of renewal. But, there is also a time to grieve the loss of those hopes and dreams that will never be. As I grieve this night, I think of my little baby who is a light in the distance. I pray for that light to be real and present as a reminder of the hope in the life to come. And, I give thanks to my God who loves with a perfect love that is enough for my baby in heaven, my children here, and all children who walk in this world with the imperfect love of humanity.

Wasn't sure when I started this blog where it was going. Hadn't put together the pieces of my uneasiness today. I would certainly not have changed spending time with Grey. It was the highlight of my day for sure. So for Gray's great reminder of God's goodness and the miracle of life that He cradles in his arms, I am very thankful. For the little one who I have yet to meet and cradle in my own arms, "I miss you. I love you. You hold a place in my heart that no one can fill. I am glad you were and are a part of my heart." Love, mommy

Control

Isn't control a funny thing. In some categories we don't want any control. Like making decisions about dinner. Who wants to make that decision, take control and face disappointing the family or friends who are looking to you for guidance? Nobody wants that responsibility.

Then there's the control of deciding what book to read in a book club. What if people read into your choice something other than, "I didn't know what book to choose, so this one had a pretty cover."? Someone may think the title "Crazy Moms and the Children They Spawn" is indicative of my own children, or my mom, or even me. Too much pressure. No thank you. I will pass on that control.

What about who controls the batting line up in a baseball game? The coach has to figure out who has the best odds of at least getting on base. Then, who has the best shot of getting a home run. The parents and spectators believe if they had the control, their team would certainly win. But, the coach, (s)he actually carries the weight of decision making. Actually having the control is very different that imagining you have the control from the sidelines.

Then there is the control that we want to have. Like, who we spend our time with. We want to have control of that, but in reality, we don't. I don't get to say, "I am going to go visit my mom and dad for the day. I love them, I miss them, I want to be with them." No. That is not in my control. I am not made of money, nor do I have a nanny, or a laundry wizard, or a maid. So, I don't get the privilege of stepping away from responsibilities, obligations, and life to satiate a need to connect with my folks.

Nor do I get to control what people think of me. Lord knows I would if I could. I certainly try at times. Then there are times when I might be well advised to try a little harder. But, in the end, people will think what they will. Very little of what I did or will do can convince them to change their opinion once it is held. So frustrating and sad. The control that others yield in my life, though unintentionally and often times unknowingly can take my breath away in defeat. Assuredly, I am not supposed to give credence to other's judgments. But, realistically, we all do. We want to be liked, appreciated, and favored. When that affirmation, especially from ones we respect and love, isn't offered; it hurts.

Yes, control can debilitate us or set us free. It is indeed in whose control we trust and belong. Certainly I am subject to things outside of my control. Then there are those things that I have to acknowledge as not mine to control. Then there are the things I can control, but hate controlling (like my diet, exercise, and discipline). I know I will continue striving for realization in the areas that I am meant to control and those in which I am meant to let go of. Patience and forgiveness will certainly be needed as I fight against the temptation to become bitter and sad about those ideas, beliefs, and judgments that are out of my control, but do affect my heart and the hearts of those I love. Acceptance and love is what I will cling to this evening as I pray for those who are controlled by fear, hatred, grief, sadness, and chaos. (I must own that my heart struggles with many of these feelings this very night. So pray for me as I pray for each of you. Much love, even in the midst of much sorrow.)

Next to Normal

I am seriously addicted to listening to Next to Normal right now. I don't think it is particularly good for my health. It is a musical about a family whose mother battles bi-polar disorder. The highs and lows of her life affect her family and their subsequent relationships and interactions. It intrigues me that the musical lyrics reflect so much of life's frustrations. Not suffering from bi-polar disorder, I can not identify with some of the responses that she and her family experience. But, I do battle my own darkness. I laugh as hard as I cry, and both are fairly intense.

As I try to adjust my extreme responses, I find myself challenged. Initially, I wonder if this is God's way of molding and shaping me. Though He created me in His image, at times my own human frailty and sinfulness inhibit me from reflecting the light of Christ within me. If moderation is going to soften my rough edges, then I want to be open to that direction and guidance.

But, what if my efforts to moderate and lessen my outward responses and my inward extremes is an effort to fit into society who says that we shouldn't be so overt? If I am conforming to make others comfortable and more accepting of me, is that Godly? Is that following Christ's call? Recently I discussed with a small group of individuals whether the purpose of the Bible was to show us the example of Christ to follow. The story of Christ's entering this world and dying for all, then giving us the Holy Spirit to live in our very hearts is the story the Bible shares (among many other stories). Christ's life relayed through the Bible paints the model of Christian life, but is that what we are intended to take from the Bible?

This small group concluded, and I tend to believe, that though Christ's model is one which is worthy of following and trying to live up to, that is not what Christ calls us to do. He calls us to be in relationship with Him. Just as each of us have different relationships with those in our lives, His relationship with each one of His children will be different. This variance is often misunderstood and misjudged as I see it. As we accept the spiritual,genetic and environmental gifts that we are blessed with, it makes perfect sense that God would guide and direct each of us differently.

However, as a society, I think we often confuse a series of actions and behaviors as unchristlike if it differs from the intentions that have been laid on our own hearts. So I feel like who I am is too extreme, emotional, loud, overt, reactive, passionate, and annoying. But, how many of those traits are God's gifts to me to be used for Him. Do I feel like that because I am wrong, or because I am different?

Not sure the answers will be available to me in this lifetime. As Next to Normal continues to play in my head, I am confronted with how her doctors and family wanted her to feel less, and that was considered "good", "right", "healed". When she was feeling life, the highs and lows, she was "wrong", "sick". I am not suggesting that she wasn't ill, or that those who suffer from bipolar personality disorder do not need treatment. I just am questioning whether we as a society take what we don't understand and rather than see with fresh, loving, accepting eyes; we reject as wrong and sick.

My heart is heavy as I try to understand how God would have me respond to the situations and experiences that seem so contrary to what my heart's natural inclinations are. Do I respond with love and vulnerability, opening myself to more pain? Or, do I moderate, keep my mouth shut, hold my heart back from feeling? I suppose the answer will come, and I have no doubt that strength will be provided in whichever direction I am led.

Is it bedtime yet?

Is it time to go to bed? I know it is only 7:50pm, but my eyes are so tired and heavy. It's so hard to know sometimes if I should trust my bodies indicators or if I should fight against them. Like the tired eyes thing. If I go to bed now, what if I am up at 5am tomorrow? I mean I would get a lot done, and I am a morning person. But, then I will be tired at 8pm tomorrow night and that won't be good because I am road tripping with a friend to see a friend. Very excited.

Bed tends to be a great place to escape to when I am not quite myself. Though I have moved away from spending my free time in bed, it still is my safe zone and the place I feel most comfortable. I cherish it even more now that I am not in it every free moment. Being stronger is not without pain. I remember times growing up when I felt like I could take anything on and be ok. I would do what it took and push as hard as I could to succeed. I had all the outward displays of success; good grades, leads in musicals, varsity cheerleader, 2 part time jobs, bought my own car, and a sustaining faith that I could lean on. I would say at the time that was what success looked like. It served me well and I am not sure I would want it any other way.

My parents did not push or harass me in any of these endeavors. In fact, there are times I wondered if they knew what I was doing. I mean, my mom showed up for everything, and my dad did too, when he could. So I know they knew. It was just not something that they overtly discussed or applauded. They were proud of me, just as they were proud of each of their kids for various reasons. I know I disappointed them at times, but I never felt they withheld their love at those moments. So with the support of my folks, I had a relatively successful high school/college experience. It would be wrong for me to fail in mentioning so many dear friends who supported me and my family along the way. From the McBurnie's, Schoen's, Winslow's, Colwell's, Thomas', McClaren's, and Corsaro's, I can say that our family was loved and supported through some very rough years. They never made me feel like I had to achieve in order to be supported. I just wanted to achieve and I was often single minded in that effort.

I imagine that may be where the greatest disappointments my parents may have endured. My commitments to working, studying, and singing were primary to the point of neglecting my family's needs. Knowing that my mom was shouldering the weight of life with 4 children, a husband, work (one full time and 2 part time), church (served as a deacon for more years than I can recall), parents, in-laws, and the frustrations of providing for the needs of all these entities; I should have been more available, more considerate, and more supportive. I recognize my drive for external success to be the outward representation of my inward desire to avoid myself accepting who I was. Not too many teen-age girls really want to take the time to know themselves. Just looking in the mirror sometimes takes so much courage and energy, that doing any kind of looking or seeking beyond that is just too much. So each strives to avoid, derail, and ignore coming too close to the truth of who we are.

I still fall into these habits. I would like to say that my voice or my passion for children is a pure reflection of my heart. But, I haven't always taken the time to seek my heart to find out. It just feels to treacherous. Realizing that in the very heart in which God placed my gifts lies the darkness of this world and the sin we each were born into makes me shudder and find excuses to avoid the process of seeking who I am and who God made me to be. My work is an easy escape. It takes energy and attention to truly see into the hearts of children and their families. I love looking into their eyes and seeing God's goodness peering back into mine. Even in the most difficult children, there is the presence of light and hope. They too look for ways to avoid being seen, just as we adults do. They will throw up road blocks in the disguise of outbursts and rebellion. But, in the moment that they feel seen, their world stops and for just a moment, they have a chance to see themselves as God sees them; loved, whole, fulfilled, adored, cherished, wanted, nurtured, and blessed. In that same moment I have to look at my heart too.

It is in realizing the connection that happens in that moment that has changed my heart. I wanted to deny the energy and joy I received in my relationships with children of all ages. (I don't mean this in a self-serving, obnoxious, egotistical sort of way. I really don't. I am sorry if it is coming off like that.) It just didn't seem like work that would raise the awareness of adults who I believe have opportunities to influence and alter the lives of the children in their midst just by engaging them and acknowledging their value. Kind of a sick thought really. Probably all in my head. Or, possibly, our cultures and society don't validate the work that is done with children and families as we continue to isolate and disconnect ourselves from community. But, now, as I reflect on the apparent failures of some of my recent interactions, I find a different kind of success. Not a success that is built on the outward representations that substantiate my work or its validity. But, a success that resides in the comfort of knowing that I can look at myself and see my heart, both the goodness and the darkness. So when the end of the day comes, and it is only 8pm, and I think, I shouldn't be so tired. I shouldn't escape to my bedroom and enjoy the comfort of my bed. I am going to trust my body's messages and know that it is ok to rest. It is time for bed.

10 things you might not guess about me

1. I don't like bright lights. It's true. Overhead lights, fluorescent lights, flashing lights; I hate them all. I don't mind candle light, or a small, dim reading light next to my bed.

2. I do not like loud noises. I know, hard to believe as loud as I am. But, it is true. I can't stand to hear the tv blaring. Don't like the radio up too loud, and I don't like loud speaking voices, especially in confined spaces.

3. I don't like cartoons. Never have, never will. (Minus the occasional Family Guy episodes. They are tolerable in very small doses.)

4. I rarely use recipes when I cook. Nor do I use measuring cups much anymore.

5. I am the only person in my family to have asthma, and the only one who has never been a smoker. Strange?

6. The first time I got behind the wheel of a car, the day I got my permit, I hit a parked car. Never took driver's education because my parents thought I was smart. Waited until my senior year to get my driver's license after my ex-boyfriend's mom taught me how to drive. Thank you Nancy.

7. I remember seeing Leontyne Price sing in Indianapolis in elementary school and knowing that I wanted to sing opera and feel music the way she did.

8. I wish I could have had 100 kids. I am still young, who knows?

9. I think My mom is the strongest person I know and I hope I can be half the woman she is.

10. As much as I love life, I can't wait to be with Jesus and really start living. All in due time.

The things kids say

I love the innocence of children. When they say something, there are no ulterior motives, no hidden agendas, and absolutely no tact. I heard the greatest conversation between a mother and daughter in the bathroom at Kids Expo today. Never saw the child to see how old she was, but I would venture a 3 or 4 year old. It was a highlight of my day, for so many reasons. It went something like this:

Daughter: Mom will you help me snap my pants and pull up my zipper?
Mom: I would be glad to.
Daughter: Thanks mom. You're my best friend.
Mom: Thanks. You are my best friend too.
Daughter: I am going to love you so well every day of my life.
Mom: Honey, I am going to love you so well every day of my life too.

Isn't that perfect? I know it may not always feel like love for them or for us, but when it comes right down to it, all we can do is "love so well every day of our lives". Now I will share the conversation between my daughter and I before as I was getting ready to go sing a benefit concert for a great organization that connects volunteers with older adults in need. It went something like this:

Me: Hey Julia, what do you think of this dress.
Julia: Wow mom, you look pretty.
Me: Thanks, do you think this part looks ok (as I point to my mid drift area).
Julia: Well, it doesn't make you look too fat, just a little bit fat.
Me: Ohhhhhhh, thanks honey.
Me: Chris, Why didn't you tell me this made me look fat?
Chris: You don't look fat.
Me: Julia just sad I didn't look too fat, which means I look fat.
Chris: I don't think you look fat. But if you don't like it, why don't you try wearing something black underneath it so you can't see that part.

(In my head, I was thinking, "So you do think I look fat. Why didn't you just tell me I looked fat?" But I kept all these things in my heart and pondered them.)

I had 2 awesome red dresses that would have been perfect for the evening of love songs on the day before Valentine's Day. But when I tried them on, guess what? They didn't fit!!!!! Why, you might be wondering? At first I concluded that I had indeed put on some weight that made the dresses a little tighter than they had been. I was coming to grips with this and didn't really need the confirmation from my daughter, but was dealing with it. But, luckily a friend shared the truth about my ill fated red dress night. It went something like this:

Friend: Ah, Chris, you look so nice in your tux. I tried mine on only to find that an invader has come in and shrunk my clothes.
Rosie: Really? That same thing happened to me. I can't believe that I thought it was my issue. Of course, that explains it. An invader is running around town shrinking people's clothes trying to break their spirits and demolish their egos.
Friend: Exactly.


What a relief! I will be back in the red dress. I am not going to expect anyone to come and try to stretch it back out. I will rise to the occasion and shrink myself back into it. Until then, I will continue to ask my daughter for her honest opinion so I can go out in public without looking "too fat".

Short but sweet

That's me, short but sweet. Haha. Not really. Definitely short, but sweet, not so much. I am keeping this blog short but sweet. Really struggling to get the thoughts in my head focused into a single coherent idea. So, pray for me please. God is speaking. I am listening; but I seriously wish he wasn't speaking in Hebrew. It takes me so long to translate.

I am getting to the point that I realize I don't get to do it my way. Not always sure that I like it, but I am accepting it. His plan is bigger and better than what I could and would be planning. Unfortunately, in my shortsightedness, I don't get to see what the momentary struggles and apparent "no's" will turn into. Trying so hard to be thankful for the doors that have shut, and the clarity that comes from the doors not being opened. No need for me to keep knocking at some, time to move to others. For awhile I thought maybe the door that shut was just the screen door. Not too heavy, or set there permanently. But, I am coming to grips with the reality that the screen door is shut; the heavy duty winter door is bolted; and even the doggie door has been sealed. I am not getting back in through that door. Still painful to accept. I found peace, joy, and laughter on the other side of the door. God is faithful and I trust that His "no's" will turn into GLORIOUS "yes'" that I have yet to realize,understand, or celebrate. Peace and prayers to each of you.

Can you foot my rub?

I love bed time routine I have with my kids. No matter what the day has been like, everything is set aside to pray and love each other. We have never really struggled with bedtimes. In fact, my kids often remind us that it is time for bed. When we have friends over, my children are known to call us up to their rooms to tell us, "There are people trying to sleep here. Can you please keep it down?". We feel like awesome parents when that happens. I don't know how we managed to not have struggles over bed time.

Maybe it was because there was never an option to fight us on the issue. When they were little, we acted like sleep was the greatest part of the day. Nap time and bed time were celebrated. It is not uncommon for any one of us to get into bed and say in a rather sensuous tone, (which I admit is a little inappropriate, especially at 2), "Ohhhhh, bed, I love you!". Colin and Julia took naps until they went off to Kindergarten. Even now, Julia will take a Saturday and/or Sunday nap. She knows when she's tired and she problem solves the situation. If it seems like I am bragging, I am. I know we can't really take credit for their internal clock that dictates that sleep is necessary. Just as parents who have children who don't need as much sleep can fault themselves for their child's internal clock. But when 8pm and 8:30pm arrive, and my kids are snugly tucked into bed, I am rejoicing and celebrating my accomplishment of having kids who like sleep as much as I do.

Maybe they realized how much we love and need sleep in order to function. Literally, I turn into a monster if I don't sleep enough. My children are not willing to risk their life by impeding my sleep opportunities. And really, the risk is high for loss of life and privileges when they don't get enough sleep. Their attitudes suck the life out of me when they are tired and grumpy. So enough about the joy that is "sleep".

During our night time ritual, we review the day, discuss the future, and pray for the needs that are here and now. Inevitably they both succeed in reminding me of something that I need to do. Whether it is filling out a form, registering for something, responding to a birthday party request, or signing an assignment notebook, they use this one on one time to catch me up to speed. After being reminded of my parental duties, I am allowed to love on my kids.

Julia loves having her face stroked. She likes lots of kisses and hand holding. Colin loves having his head scratched, back scratched and feet rubbed. So thankful that Colin still seems to enjoy this time in our day. Both my kids have heard the same prayer every night they have been with us. It hasn't changed. No matter who comes and goes in our life, the prayer stays the same or is added to, never deleted. When our life is impacted by someone, something, or an event, our prayers reflect the importance. Currently our prayer is: Dear God, thank you for Mommy and Daddy, and Julia and Colin, Oma and Opa, Moo and Pop and Mam-ma, all my aunts and uncles, all my cousins, all my friends from church, and all my friends from school, Megan and Bailey, and David and Brandy, the Wey's, the Hewerdine's, and Stempinski's. We pray especially for Bill, Sally, and Megan, the Cruse family, the children, survivors and people of Haiti. And dear God, we thank you most of all for Jesus, who loves Julia/Colin so much. Amen. Good night. No matter what has happened, once you are in the prayer, you stay in the prayer. Sometimes when we are done with this prayer, we will add specific concerns. Recently Colin has added June into his prayers. She lost her husband, Walt, a couple weeks ago. He has a very soft spot for this beautiful lady.

There are a lot of "I love yous" during our nightly routine. Chris and I go in separately. Both kids will call us in if we get caught up in something, (like fb, or tv, or reading).

Side note: It is 7:51pm and my son just walked through the living room announcing he is going to bed. I am not joking. I love that boy. I better finish up here.

So, to the title of this blog. Last night I was rubbing Colin's feet and I started to walk out. Colin says to me, "Mom, can you foot my rub?" He lost it and started belly laughing. We both were so tickled. I did "foot his rub", and then I gave a great sigh of relief. Relief that I have my Colin who is challenging and frustrating, but also tender hearted and kind. Relief, that I have Julia, whose sweet, humorous disposition balances her moody, flightiness. Relief, that the people in our prayers are and have been a part of our lives. In addition to relief, I can say that I am grateful that my children have a vast network of family and friends who are a part of their lives. Whether they were only meant to be a part for a brief time, or for a life time; I appreciate the influence and love shared. Our lives will be influenced and altered by many more relationships in the years to come. In advance, I am praying for the hearts of those who will be a part of our family's lives. Our prayers will be added to and our lives will be enriched. I am going to say prayers now. Maybe I will "foot his rub" again tonight. So funny.