Little Hands and Gentle Hearts

Those little hands are Annabelle's. She is 3 now. I am not entirely sure where time went or how she is now a preschooler rather than a toddler. She is loving and strong and vibrant. Everything she is meant to be. She is amazing.

But those hands, those hands remind me of the gentleness I need to put forward. The soft that makes me the woman God created me to be. I focus on helping my children to be who they are called, but I often forget who I am called to be.

Life is hard. Very hard. So many moving parts that create an insurmountable wall of fear and sadness. I often want to quit. I want to give up on everything and just fade into the darkness in my mind.
but I don't

and I won't

Because those little hands need my guidance still.

Some days I can hardly breath. I just don't have the energy. But I keep going, because this is part of what I am. Who I am. 

I am trying to learn from it rather than be destroyed by it.

Often, I am bitter and angry. I want to be spiteful and vengeful. I am after all human. But instead I silence myself and quiet my heart.

I just pray that this cloud goes away.

Lost in Translation

From the outside I seem together and normal. I look like everything is great. I smile. I clean. I teach. I pull myself together. What you don't see is the constant battle in my head. The constant fight to feel better. The constant work it takes to put one foot in front of the other.

Don't get me wrong I have good days. More and more lately. It's getting better. The meds are helping. I am slowly getting better.
But some days
Some days I just want to quit. I really just want to give up. I want to step off this merry-go-round that we all call life.

 I hear myself crying out from inside my head but the words somehow change. In my head I hear " I give up", "I quit", and "not one more step". These voices cry out so loud it is almost deafening. Like standing in front of a freight train that is barrelling down the tracks towards me.
The voice stuck on repeat that reminds me I am failing, falling apart, and broken. Those voices tell me time and time again that I cannot and will not be OK. It tells me that this is my new normal and it will never get better.It is loud and clear.

But somewhere it get's lost in translation.
Those aren't the words I feel. Those aren't the words I say.

The quiet voice from my lips is simple

"Lord help me." "Mary pray for me" 

I turn to my Lord when I can't turn anywhere else.

You may be asking why I am writing this. There are a few reasons really.
#1. It's time we bring PPD and depression into the light. It doesn't make me weak. It doesn't make me selfish. I can't just "Get over it" I cannot just make it disappear. It's how I'm built. It's part of what makes me me in my own very unique experience. I have been dealing with depression off and on my entire life. The first time I remember feeling dark and hopeless I was young. Maybe 6 or 8 years old. 

It's an undercurrent in my life.

#2. My god is bigger than my storm. I take my meds. I take care of my family. I do the things that need to be done. My god is the only one that can heal those wounds of my heart and correct and quiet the voice that tells me I am worthless. My prayers are heard.I am loved. and I will be ok. He is my voice of truth when I cannot trust my own. He is my rock that in these times I cling to. He is everything I need. 

#3. To remind you that it's never hopeless. It's never hopeless. It's never hopeless.
I need to hear that sometimes as much as everyone else. I want you to know that if you feel as though you can't take another step or those voices are too loud to overcome or you just can't catch your breath, remember you aren't alone.
It's never hopeless. 

And most importantly,

#4

If you are reading this and you think 

Not. One. More. Breath.

Don't Give Up

Reach Out.

National Suicide Hotline

Pictures You Won't See

In my basement, on a ledge, is a stack of pictures set into frames I never hang. Pictures of the boys in matching yellow and blue sweaters. A picture of the three of us for the church directory. Pictures at Tyler's First Holy Communion. Pictures of the boys

Pictures of my boys and me in the years between. Between Daniel and Trevor, between broken and functional. Between here and there.

Those pictures are too painful to look at. Even 14 years later I still hold my breath when I see them. They bring me no joy. No comfort. My heart skips and I feel my stomach plummet when I see them.
It was by far the worst time in my life, the most painful. It was brutal. The visceral reaction to those photos is overwhelming and unpredictable. They bring me nothing but pain.

And yet I was refined by fire, even then.

I keep those pictures so that my boys will have them some day. I don't want them to not have that piece of their childhood simply because it was dark. It was dark for them too, but it was different in their eyes.

I am finding out how well I protected them during those years. Too well it would seem. There are so many things they don't know. So much I will most likely never tell them.

And yet I was refined by fire, even then.

Those trials as difficult as they were, shaped me into who I am. It created in me the destruction necessary to build an even greater masterpiece. One with faith as the glue.

I was a pretty blue vase.
The was shattered back then. The pieces were so small I couldn't fix it myself.
I had to give myself and all of my brokenness to God.
He created , in me, something amazing and even more precious.
He made me a beautiful serving platter, to serve my family around me.

Here I am , broken again.
The pieces no longer something I can work with.
I have no choice but to hand my brokenness to God and let him work with remains of that platter.
Because as beautiful as it was, it still isn't what I am meant to be.

I have no doubt that I will be remade many times within this parenthesis. Not every time will be this brutal.

But for now,

I am refined by fire.

When Your Rainbow Baby Brings a Storm

For those of you that don't know what a rainbow baby is.

A "rainbow baby" is a baby that is born following a miscarriage or still birth.

In the real world, a beautiful and bright rainbow follows a storm and gives hope of things getting better. The rainbow is more appreciated having just experienced the storm in comparison.

The storm (pregnancy loss) has already happened and nothing can change that experience. Storm-clouds might still be overhead as the family continue to cope with the loss, but something colorful and bright has emerged from the darkness and misery.

"We lost our last pregnancy, but now we have a rainbow baby."

~Urban Dictionary~

Sammy was my rainbow baby though I had never heard that phrase before. Rainbow babies are supposed to bring closure and joy and peace. He brought those things simply because he was a baby. He was born during an extremely tumultuous time in my life. there wasn't much peace about me. I also had not come to terms yet with Loosing Emma and so I never felt that relief other people might have. It doesn't help either that I lost Emma on the same day that Samuel was born.

Sam is a thunder storm in the making. He rumbles like thunder in the distance and often strikes like lightning. The storm rages in him some days as he rumbles by. It's over almost before it began.
No amount of discipline will ever change that. Nothing I can do controls the storm in him. He is simply, himself.

He has been particularly difficult this summer. Part hormones and part dis-regulation. He has been next to impossible.We are waiting for a therapist for him. I can't help but love this kid though Freak outs and all. It can get ugly here. As bad as it can be, he still hugs me and snuggles in. He squeezes me tight and asks why I smell so good. He also calls me names when he is angry. It can be maddening. While I can't change the autistic parts of him (and honestly I am not sure I would if I could) I do wish it was easier for him. I do wish life wasn't so much work for him. I do wish he was happier in his own skin. I spend hours up at night worried about the choices we make. Until you have had your own Special Needs child you can't possible understand what it is like to parent one, worry about one, love one, fear one and settle one.

He was supposed to be my rainbow baby. So what do you do when your Rainbow baby also brings a storm of his own?

Sometimes... I'm not so smart

I can be thick headed and strong willed. I have always been a fighter. For as long as I can remember I have been "the strong one". People would comment on how I they thought I was so strong, so tough. Well let me share a secret with you. It's all an act. It isn't strength or toughness. Sometimes, things just need to be done and I just get them done. In fact, I handle emergencies and stresses really well usually. Its after its all over that I fall apart.

 If you read my post yesterday you know I have finally conceded because I have no other choice.Let me explain just a little. It may be rather raw and disjointed. I can't guarantee it will make sense , but I will try.

I found out I was pregnant with Evie at the end of June. I knew we wanted more babies and we have always allowed the Lord to choose the timing and size of our family. I just wasn't as prepared as I thought. During the pregnancy our financial situation became precarious because I was no longer working. The pressure was on, Sam was out of control, my S.A.D. became overwhelming, it triggered extreme O.C.D. behavior. I couldn't do the things I needed to do in order to satiate my compulsions which just compounded the crazy feeling that was spinning out of control. I felt so frightened and overwhelmed. I even considered the idea of adopting out the baby.

I still didn't stop or slow down or deal with everything going on in my head. I didn't ask for help. I just buried my head and pushed. It's what I have always done and it use to serve me well, back when things were simpler.

Then Evie arrived. She was beautiful and amazing.

Then Chaos. I had no idea the ramifications would be so far reaching this time. I had no idea that I was about to land on my butt for the next 3-4 weeks. I suffered a Postpartum hemorrhage. It could have been far worse. It went from an amazing birth experience to a scary moment in the blink of an eye. My midwife, the nurses, OBGYN, and my husband all made it less traumatic then it could have been. My poor husband stood by and watched the chaos. I remember telling him that if something happened to me to not leave our girl. I was never actually afraid. I felt weirdly calm and peaceful.

I thought once I got home it would all be fine, but it wasn't. I was told to rest 2 weeks. I was told no lifting, no house work, no grocery shopping (my MW was specific about that) and I did as I was told. But the bleeding didn't stop, in fact it got worse. More medication and more rest. Every time I did more then get up and go to the bathroom It would start again. I finished day five yesterday. It should be over, but it isn't quite over yet. I have no choice but to sit it out and let my body heal ...slowly.

So yesterday I finally submitted to HIM.  and today I woke up to his message...
HERE
HERE
oh yeah and
HERE
Three places in my face within 5 minutes of logging on... 5 minutes .
I feel protected right now by HIS GRACE... strangely enough. I have every reason to be blue. Every reason to be sad and anxious. I have suffered with PPD though 4 out of 6 of my babies. Just Grace and Evangeline have been born without me feeling sad. Even when Grace would cry, even when Grace got sick and was placed in Hasbro Children's Hospital, even when Evie cries without a reason I can understand, even being stuck to this chair, dependent on people. It still feels like the sun is shining.

Don't get me wrong I am frustrated beyond belief. I am humbled and broken and listening.
However, I have learned that I am far more loved than I have ever imagined.. and that is a humbling experience.

(It's been a while but I am linking up with Shell over at PYHO)

One Week

It's been one week with our newest member and already I feel as though I have known her a lifetime. From the moment I held her in my arms all of the trepidation I had been feeling the last few months disappeared  Nothing mattered in that moment as she cried on my chest.

I  feel like I have been waiting my whole life for her.

I remember feeling that way with Sammy. That similarity scares me to death.If the cards have been dealt I know they cannot be reshuffled.  There is still always that fear.

It's been one whole week and I am thoroughly in love with this little person who has taken over my lap. The boys are all puddles around her. They melt when she opens her eyes and look at them. Grace  is in heaven with her giant doll. She helps change diapers and sings Evie songs.

It's been one week of lifetime moments and I am so tired and sore. I am so blessed. I find myself with tears in my eyes over the sheer appreciation for my family.

Isolated

I have been feeling pretty isolated lately. Sam and Nate are at each others throats every time I take them anywhere , so leaving the house with everyone just isn't an option really. My teens have been sulky and have not wanted to help much lately. I am 35+ weeks pregnant and feeling very stressed. Grace has been super clingy as well. My house is a mess because I just cant get it done anymore. Dan is stressed trying to work two jobs, so I can't really talk to him about anything , because well, he has enough to deal with on his own right now.

I feel isolated, alone, and frustrated. I hate feeling this way. Its hard for me to do bedtime, dinner clean up, next day prep, homework with Sammy, nurse grace to bed, and write. That's a good day. Add to that behaviors for Sammy, wrestling matches, practice, Nate, Sam and Grace missing daddy and it's a recipe for a nervous breakdown. I feel like all my time is spend worrying about everyone but me. It makes me feel like I am completely isolated , which makes me feel sad, which makes me feel selfish, which makes me feel guilty.

It's hard to give 100% all the time, even when you don't want to. I acknowledge that this is what I have chosen for my life and as a result I need to suck it up and just keep going. I just can't figure out how I am going to be able to keep my head down and push forward when Squish gets here. I have to find time to make some freezer meals, find a place for another baby dresser, and get everything all set for when I am in the hospital having baby.


It's times like this that all I have to lean back on is my faith. I truly believe that as crappy as things are right now, it will get better and it will be OK.  I am so grateful that I am able to hold fast to the help and love of Jesus through all of this, because if I didn't have that, I likely wouldn't be here. It would have ended many years ago at Jones Beach. If it weren't for my faith , the love of God, an angel, and a miracle, I wouldn't be here writing. Sam, Nate, Grace, and Squish would not be here.

I am just grateful tonight that no matter how dark it gets right now, it will never be as dark as that afternoon on Jones Beach.

Second Chances

I have been puzzling something out. It's hard for me to feel like I don't have the answers. I just don't know what to make of things right now. I can't quiet wrap my head around any of it. Do you think there is such a thing as a Do-Over? Does God really do that? Is it possible? Maybe It's just wishful magical thinking?


On a side note Sammy has been super affectionate lately. He keeps rubbing his cheek against my shoulder when I'm wearing tank tops. It's probably just a a stim but Right now I will take it. I don't really get hugs unless I ask. I will get "hug-kiss-snuggle-hug" before I leave the house every time.

We finished our first week of summer vacation and we have all lived. I think that is an amazing feat in and of itself ! Don't you think so?

 Sammy has a behavior protocol at home he earns blocks for every half hour he follows the rules. Good choices,gentle hands,gentle words and respect. today he earned 12 total which has never happened before. However , even though he has the blocks he can count he is obsessing over them. every 2 minutes "how many blocks did I earn now?" over and over and over. enough to drive me insane. I think we may need a timer. Any suggestions?

Field Day

Sammy had field day last week. It was held at the rec center since there is no longer a yard at the school now that construction has begun. It was mostly nice. They did have some indoor events which Sammy struggled with. It was loud and hot and muggy. They blew an air-horn to signify change from one event to the next and Sammy covered his ears in pain each time. It bothered me to watch that. Couldn't they come up with something better?

Once we were outside things were better and I could see Sammy's body language relax and settle. He played the first 2 or 3 games fine but during the last one I watched his body language switch. His fingers , which earlier were relaxed and silent, began their flight. A mile a minute. I watched him try to stop and place his hands in the "quiet hands" position I had taught him many years ago. Oh I hate having taught him that. His eyes began to flip around and he flipped up onto his tip toes just ever so slightly. To most people he was just having fun, but I know my boy. he scanned the crowd, he looked for escape, he looked like he was in pain. I mentioned to the parent beside me "Uh-Oh looks like were about to hit a wall". He came to me and buried his head against my chest and took a deep deep breath. He was shaking. He said "this is too much, I want to be done"

My heart was breaking for him. This should be fun! Instead it took all my boy had to be part of it up to this point. I brought him over to his aide Mrs.L. and had him use his words "I am overwhelmed I need a break". Four times he tried and couldn't but the fifth time he did. She told him to take a seat, and I watched his entire body melt. Seconds later they were lining up to get back to school for a cookout. He again started to become upset and bothered. The transitions were not handled smoothly. I reassured him we would meet back at the school and that I would eat with him. He got into line fingers flying beside him hidden to anyone who doesn't yet understand my boy.

I met him at the school, he was under the tree waiting for me. We had a lovely picnic and then played on the playground. He kissed me and said "so glad you came over mommy"  He asked his friend A to join us. I really like that kid. He has fantastic manners and social skills and he seems to really like Sammy, quirks and all. We all need a friend that loves us for who we are. Sam has a few. He has Miss S. and Miss L., Mr. M and Mr.A.

I dismissed him from school and he was all smiles. It was the bright spot in our otherwise horrific week.

I'll take it!

Long Days and Longer Nights

Sam has been having a rough time lately and as a result the entire family has been in a tail spin, I am being bombarded with reports from the bus, from school, from my husband while I am at work. He comes in ans starts bullying his brother or me. He is swearing at EVERYONE any time he gets even slightly frustrated. I am at a loss and I am just plain tired. Tonight he ran away... like really

ran away.

My heart stopped.

What can I do to stop this craziness? How can I protect him from himself? He has no idea what could happen and there isn't any real way i can explain it to him.
I just keep thinking what if he runs away when I am work. What if he runs away and gets hit by a car? What if I have to call the police and they take him away from me?
That last one hits home. I spend every waking moment dealing with this. I am doing my best. I give it every single thing I have in me.

What if it isn't enough?

What if it isn't enough to protect my little fluffy headed Sammy. My sweet boy who often smells like growing grass and smiles with every inch of his body is so vulnerable. So fragile, so...confused and there isn't anything I can do to help him.
No amount of tears will bring him back if something happens. He doesn't know where he lives, he doesn't know his address. He just knows his name and the name of his school, but school is out in just a few days. How am I going to do this? I can deal with the bad behavior, the PICA, the stories, I can deal with the refusals and the frustration. I can deal with it when he can't find the words and he gets so mad he screams. I can deal with the swearing.

I can't deal with the running away, because I have no control. I have no real say. I can't make it better.
I have to install locks he can't reach or unfasten. I need alarms on the windows. How am I going to afford all of this? How can I not do it? his life depends on it at this point.

I love this boy so much and I would do anything to protect him. I am 50+ miles away at work right now and I am so afraid he won't be in his bed in the morning. I would protect him from anyone that ever tried to hurt him. What happens when the person hurting them, is them. WHAT THEN?!