knowing autumn. {on abuse and healing from it}

"A wind has blown the rain away and blown the sky away and all the leaves away, and the trees stand. I think, I too, have known autumn too long."

--E. E. Cummings

{image found here.}

i have thought and thought about writing this.  i started it two months ago, and i can't get the words in my head to go away, and new thoughts just keep coming.....

so, it is time.

i'm going to write this pretty straight-forward, because it's the only way i can about this particular subject.

i do not write this because i just love putting it all out there.  this is scary for me, and not comfortable in the least.  i do not write this to invoke pity from friends or strangers. {and to be honest, i'm not going to be putting it ALL out there.  it's not appropriate or necessary.}

i do write it for myself.  it's a journey i have been on for a long time now, i can remember one specific day over 9 years ago when something broke inside of me, and the reality of it slapped me in the face.  i was beginning to see it, for the first time, for what it really was.  and i was too young then, and it scared me to look at it, so i tucked it back down.  but if i have learned one thing in life, it's that you can't run from things like this.  you can sure try, and you can fool yourself into believing you've been successful, but then you open your eyes at what life is really like for you, and you realize.....in avoiding it, it has found you anyway.

i also write this for others out there who i know have felt what i feel.  i know it, because we've talked about it.  i've found them and they have found me.  sometimes it feels like a magnetic pull, to find someone in a crowd of people, who you would never imagine being friends with, and then suddenly you're there talking about similar experiences, common stories of surviving and struggles from surviving.  maybe it will help another put into words how they feel, or give another person who hasn't spoken yet, courage to face their own truth.

i write for ben, who i am open with about these things, but for him to be able to read it in one comprehensive thought, instead of the sporadic times it comes up out of nowhere.  for him to be able to read what goes on in my head on hard days.  when i say he is the best person for me, i truly mean it.  i would have never been able to come to these conclusions without his love, stability, patience and understanding.

and i also write this for my children.  i wish that blogs were around when i was growing up.  i know there were journals and photo books, but there's something about the writing and pictures together, to be able to read about and see who i was as a baby, and at 2, and then 5 and 15.  but not only to read about me, but to read about the thoughts my parents had about life, and what was meaningful to them.  their struggles, their happiness.  it's a way for my children to know a piece of me that they otherwise wouldn't have.

well, here we go.  {big breath in}


during my childhood,
i was abused.


i will not share details about the abuse, who it was, how long it went on, or what happened.  that's not the point of writing this.  to be honest, those details really aren't important.  there are a very, very small number of people who know this about me, and an even smaller number of people who know actual details.  i'm guessing this will surprise some, probably because i don't share it with almost anyone.  that doesn't mean that my happiness or friendliness, or outgoing-ness is fake; it is not.  but there are many parts of me, and this is just one that i keep mostly to myself.

it's funny, i have a hard time even saying that word, abused, out loud and about myself.  it was years after finally recognizing and admitting the abuse before the word would actually come out.  maybe because for so long i justified the actions of another, and lumped the word "abuse" into worn-down women with black eyes and broken jaws, or stories of kids like Antwone Fisher.  there are situations worse than mine, i know it.  there are several close to me with more severe degrees of abuse.  and yes, i do believe that there are degrees, but no, i don't believe it invalidates my own.

maybe, i can write about this because the degree of my own was not as extreme as some stories i've heard, and that i am freeing myself of it.  i can now see it for what it is, even though i don't share it often.  i keep it protected for reasons of my own.

the point of writing this, and being candid about the fact of it without the details, is to discuss what became of me because of the abuse i went through.  to try to help myself and others understand what happens to a person when they are put in a situation like this, and maybe to help figure out how to truly overcome it.

so, i'm going back to the beginning:

if you've ever been parent of a 2 year old, you'll recognize this picture.  i've watched this movie more times than i can count, it's been the frontrunner of favorites for leah for almost a year now. {finding nemo}

one time while watching the movie with leah, when i saw this picture of a baby fish egg with the small crack, something clicked.  it was an analogy i've felt and thought about for a long time now.

we all possess a spirit in our body,  a core that's formed from the day we are formed.  it is what is the foundation for a belief of who we, as individuals, truly are.  we are cared for, loved, and that core becomes stronger.  we are taught self-worth, and our divine nature.  we are taught Truth.

as positive things in our life happen, the outside of the core strengthens.  when we're young, if that core is strong, we have a foundation of self-worth that is laid and the belief that we deserve unconditional love is felt.  there are things we face in life that continually try to break that foundation, but i believe that if it's laid thick and strong in the beginning, we have more of an ability to fight the trials that constantly try to crack us.

but there are situations that break down this core, and abuse is one of them.  my belief is that if it happens during some point in childhood, abuse causes cracks that are deep, and difficult--extremely difficult-- to patch back together.

when i went through my abusive situations as a child, i felt like my core was cracked, broken.  it felt like there was something inside of me that was no longer right.  i felt different from my friends, i felt off.  but i also constantly justified my abusive situation, and refused for a long time to see it for what it was.  it scared me.

as the cracks of the abuse began to spread in my core, negative lies seeped into the cracks, telling me many untruths.  one crack, one untruth, was so deep that telling myself the actual truth in the beginning of therapy a couple of years ago felt like i was lying, pretending, faking it. that it was true for others, but just not for me.

it is probably the most important thing that one can believe about themselves:  to believe that one deserves unconditional love, regardless of who they are, mistakes they make, choices they make, or what has happened to them.

the belief that i deserved unconditional love was broken.  because of abuse, i believed....and up until about 2 years ago, still believed....that for me, love was only conditional.  not just in relationships, either.

i actually believed this un-truth also applied to God.  that i did not deserve His unconditional love.

as i've said before, life is a parallel.  there are certain relationships that are put here on earth to literally mirror how a Father in Heaven feels about us, because we are his children.  and when that parallel is not translated, for whatever reason, it can cause {in my opinion} the deepest, most painful un-truth to settle inside and take roots.

the funny thing is, i didn't even know that deep down i felt this way.  i just continued coping, thinking i was doing fine.  i was a survivor, i didn't let the abuse define me, i had risen above.

i didn't realize just how deeply i felt this untruth, and how i had connected it not only to all relationships in my life, but also to my relationship with God, until i was in therapy.

we were asked to do an assignment; it was called a Lost Poster.  we were instructed by my therapist to think of all of the things we had felt we had lost in our lives, starting from our childhood, and create some sort of poster representing them.  we could use pictures, or words, or abstract representations.  whatever we wanted to do, however we wanted to express it.

i went home that day, scared.  i knew that doing this assignment was going to open up some things for me that i had buried and wanted to forget.  a couple of weeks went by, and i didn't work on it.  i waited, and watched other members of my group as they presented theirs to the group.  then finally, i decided it was time, and began.

i chose to draw my entire poster with my left hand, my non-dominant hand, which is a technique that has been known to access other parts of your brain that aren't usually used on a daily basis.  i didn't know what i was going to draw, i had no ideas yet and just decided to start and see what happened.

in the middle of the poster, i drew a stick figure.  with blonde hair, green eyes, smiling.  the stick figure was holding a mirror, and the reflection that showed on the mirror was not smiling, but the opposite.  it was disfigured, a monster.  with angry eyes and sharp teeth and a pig nose.  the reflection was ugly.  and all over, the reflection was bleeding.  beneath that picture, i wrote:

I HAVE LOST MY SELF-WORTH.

then i started with the earliest memory of what i thought i had lost, and drew a picture, labeled it.  i drew smaller pictures clockwise around the stick figure, drawing and writing as each new memory and thought came to me.  some of the memories brought sadness, some anger, some excruciating pain.  when i had gone around the stick figure, i got to the top of the poster.  there i drew, as well as my left hand could, a sky, with clouds and rays of sun streaming down them.  on top of the clouds stood a figure, in white, floating, also surrounded by bright rays of sunshine.  below the picture, i wrote these words:

I HAVE LOST THE BELIEF THAT GOD LOVES ME.

I HAVE LOST THE BELIEF THAT I DESERVE HIS LOVE.

and that was when the tears came.  they streamed down my face as my now-trembling hands drew arrows from each of the drawings, all pointing up to this picture of God.  they all connected to this one thing, because of everything else that i had lost in my life, this was the one that mattered most. this loss was what had affected so many poor decisions in my life, so many mistakes, so much pain.  i sat and cried for a long time as i finished the poster.  i knew now what had been bothering me for so long, deep down.

and i realized i was broken.

the hardest part for me after realizing that, was not having any clue how to fix it.  i sighed and hoped that somehow through this digging, through therapy, i would find a way.

the next week in therapy, i felt like i was was jumping out of my skin.  i was on edge, nervous.  i absolutely dislike speaking in front of people, having them stare at me.  but at the same time, i felt like i wanted to stand up there, to talk about what i had finally realized.  i wanted to get it out.  i was so scared to admit some of the ugliest things about me that i had drawn and written on this poster, but i also had this feeling that maybe once it was out, it could be the beginning of starting to fix what had been broken so long ago.

i've written about this experience before, but i'll write about it again.

as i stood up in front of nearly-strangers {we had only known each other for a couple of months}, i could not make eye contact.  i started with my self-portrait, the view of what others saw vs. the view i saw as i looked in the mirror.  then i began going around the poster, clockwise, just as i had when i started drawing it.  as i got to a painful place while describing a memory, my voice cracked and my leg started shaking, bouncing.

"keep breathing, take a couple of deep breaths," my therapist said gently.

so i did, and then began again.

~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~

i know i'm repeating myself again, but i feel it's important.  i have heard several people in my life say that they think therapy is "crap." that it's just laying on a couch, talking about your childhood, digging up things that are over and "don't matter."

but i am here to say that actually that sort of thinking is what is crap, because it does matter, all of it.  the people that we are, the thoughts that we think, the emotions we feel, the reactions we produce, are all a compilation of experiences, memories, consequences, choices.  some are originally ours and some are not.  and how our foundation is formed in the beginning is what matters most, so the only way to change some of those things is by going back to where all of it began, finding out where and how things started, and change them if needed.  

~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~

the words did not come easily out of my mouth.  they were choked and sputtered through tears of sadness, regret, guilt, pain, shame.  i stared at my shoes as i talked.  then i looked up at the final picture, my child-like drawing of heaven and God.  and i explained why the arrows all pointed there, and how this belief that He doesn't love me, and the loss of that had leaked through to every one of my other losses.

when i was finally done speaking, the therapist asked if i was open to her doing an exercise.  i wanted to say "absolutely not" and just run out of the room, but found myself silently nodding my head.  she had me sit down in a chair, then asked the other girls in the group to surround me.  they each put a hand on me, and said something kind to me.  either what they had learned from my poster, or something they admired about me.  or just that they loved me.

the tears continued to fall down my face as they each took their turn.  and even though i wanted to dismiss their compliments, and combat them with why i actually wasn't so amazing or strong, or beautiful, i didn't.  i took deep breaths, and tried to let their words soak through the top layer of my skin, down to my tiny, cracked core.

that day, a piece that had been broken so long ago was patched up.

i came home, feeling a little bit lighter than i had been earlier.  i was relieved, and raw.  emotionally so tired and vulnerable.  but i also felt something else:

hope.  

i knew, after that day, that there actually is an ability to heal from your past.  that coping and surviving and closing up and shutting down no longer had to be the way i dealt with painful experiences and memories.

and as the months went on, and i continued to go back to the beginning to work my way forward, i continued to feel hopeful.  i was changing, really changing, for the first time in my life.  i no longer hurt the way i had for so long.  i no longer allowed others to hurt me the way i had.  i actually started believing that i am beautiful, regardless of size, shape, clear skin or not.  not just believing, but knowing.

i started developing the ability to take only what is mine in situations, and to allow others to take what is theirs, instead of carrying it for them.  and what developed from that was a deeper, more empathetic, more understanding version of myself.  i found a balance of being able to mourn with others without their pain knocking the wind out of me, or without taking it on as my own.  or for somehow feeling responsible for it, and like i could rescue them out of it.

i worked extremely hard on boundaries.  that was something that i hadn't realized was so twisted inside of me.  for most of my life, i had extremely firm boundaries with those that didn't necessarily need them, and then had extremely no-boundaries with those who could, and did, hurt me.  unhealthy walls came down, while other healthy walls were built up.  

and i began taking accountability.  sincerely apologizing for mistakes i have made.  some were from years and years ago, and i'm sure weren't as big of a deal to others as they were for me, but those apologies were just another way to lighten the burden of all that i had been carrying for so long.  and they also kept me humble, and out of a place of looking at my life as a victim.

anyone could be a victim.  everyone has a story.  trials and challenges, pain and heartaches.  and honestly?  being a victim can be an addicting place to sit.  wanting to stay hurt and angry for old wounds and new wounds.  feeling badly for yourself, having others feel badly for you.  feeling wronged so that you don't have to reach out.  protecting yourself so you don't get hurt.  

but the truth is, it is always a choice to be hurt, and to hold onto that hurt.  always.  i have seen so many overcome some of the most difficult challenges without remaining a victim.  but it's hard work to do it, when the place of victim has been comfortable for a long time.  

and being a victim for the rest of my life was not where i wanted to end up.  i had seen others ride the victim train, and i saw where that train had landed them.  so i had to make the choice to not stay there.   

as these changes took place, so did spiritual changes.  i separated my religion from finding God, because there were experiences i had gone through in my past that caused religion to confuse me.  i stripped down the reasons that i felt i was supposed to do things, so that i could begin to make choices because i knew i wanted to make them.  

i also made a conscious effort to be constantly aware of how close i felt to Him, daily.  how connected i was on a spiritual level rather than a religious one.  and as that spiritual depth grew, the religion part fell into place naturally instead of forced.  there is a balance between the two that needed to be found for me, and it has been.  

and this is how i began to see just how much He loves me, and how much He always has. His love was always there, all around me, i just hadn't known how to truly see it.  but it became clear when i finally sought it, with eyes that were open to focus on the good that was happening in life instead of the bad.

i could see His love for me in others, who said and did things just at the right time i needed them.  i was offered friendship, kindness, forgiveness, understanding, mercy; often times in places where it was  completely unexpected. i could see His love for me in my children, who were reflecting back His pure and unconditional love for me through them.

and i could see His love for me in the way that i loved my children.  the parallel of what life is really all about became so crystal clear during this time, and as my children have continued to grow.  their weaknesses and strengths, perfections and imperfections became more acute, and my heart was full of so much adoration for them, not in spite of their shortcomings, but because of them.  and in those moments of seeing them for who they really are, my spirit listened to the whisperings that said, "this is exactly how He feels about you."

slowly, my cracked core has begun to be filled.  it is a long process, especially when i look back on the first time i really recognized what was going on 9 years ago, and then when i actually started working 2 years ago.  it has come in steps and pieces.  at times it's felt like i am cutting off a limb, it is that painful.  there have been days when it is exhausting, and i take a break from pushing myself.  and there have been days when i wish that the fight wasn't so hard sometimes.  but there's nothing i can do to change events that actually happened to me, but i have changed how i feel about those events.

this journey has been so worth it.  now that my eyes have been opened to what is on the other side of all of this hard work, and the change that i have seen come over me, i am so grateful.  and like i mentioned before, going through those events in my past has brought about a depth in me that would otherwise not be there.  

i am grateful for that depth, it is one of the things i love most about me now.  

so for those reading who can relate in any way to what i have written, my intention for writing this is that you will be able to see my story as one that is a work in progress, but that is full of hope.  

cracks can be filled, hearts can love and allow love, and broken pieces can be put back together.  

the winds can stop, leaves can grow again, trees will stand.

{image found here}

and autumn will end.

our lives just got messier.

somebody decided she likes solid foods.

a lot.

welcome to the big leagues, june bug.

defending the silver lining, part 2.

i want to write about what happened with ben's dissertation proposal yesterday, because i'm still reeling from it.

but first,

i'm going to write about what happened today.

today was about my best friend andrea. i keep writing about her because she is someone who i just love to pieces.  she is constantly inspiring me.  

in just the past 2 years, andrea has:

~broken free from a destructive marriage

~moved herself and her children {packing up an entire house on her own} into a new home for a fresh start

~became a CNA after passing an intense program  

~was accepted into the master's in counseling program at ASU, and has been juggling a year of grad school along with being a single mom who has full custody

~passed her GRE

~continued with really intense self-discovery and healing through therapy the entire time

{after looking at this list, i feel a little inadequate thinking what in the world have i accomplished these past 2 years??}

and now?  andrea is engaged, to a really great guy.  

together they are going to make an amazing couple.

but, 

i've written before about the fact that andrea has not had an easy life.... beginning well before her ended marriage.  and because of her beginning, she has been basically on her own in her life in every sense of the word.  

a couple of weeks ago, i went shopping with her to find a wedding dress as beautiful as she is.  i pretty much cried the whole time, because i'm just so happy for her.  {i'm going to be a mess on the actual day!} but i also knew that financially, a wedding is expensive.  and andrea is the only one providing for those expenses.

after a girls night last weekend, where we excitedly talked about wedding plans, i was contacted by two of our friends, amanda and katie.  they had the genius idea of trying to gather together some support from others who love andrea, to see if there was a way we could help lift some of the burden of the cost of the wedding, more specifically....a dress. 

working together, we reached out to friends who know and love her, to see if they would like to contribute.  we were hoping to gather a couple hundred dollars, to see if we could maybe cover the cost of dress alterations.

within 48 hours of contacting our friends, we were overcome and amazed at the generosity we were witnessing.  we had collected well over our hoped-for amount, and had actually gathered enough to almost completely cover the cost of her dream dress!  every time i texted amanda to get an update on the total, she would send me the amount and i would just start to cry.  i could not believe what was happening.

we wanted to give others as much time as we could to donate, but also wanted to present the money to her before she had made a final decision on her dress, to have the pressure lifted as she tried them on and know that she was going to be completely covered financially for it.

so amanda, katie, our friend kelly and myself set it up to meet andrea this morning at the bridal shop to help her make a decision.  our plan was to surprise her with the money we had collected.  our other friend farrah had put together a fabulous photo book with a picture of each person who had generously donated and a message they had sent to her.  {we were so sad that last night farrah came down with a nasty stomach bug and wasn't able to come with us!}  but seriously?  keeping surprises is not something i'm great at, especially when it comes to keeping secrets from andrea. 

i relate so much to kristen wiig's character in this SNL skit that it's sad:

i was proud of myself, because i didn't even give her one hint that anything was going on, even though i felt like jumping out of the windows of our house at times.  poor ben had to hear about how excited i was for pretty much 24 hours straight.  and every time i talked about it i would start to cry, so that doubled the fun.  


but it went perfectly.


amanda had withdrawn the money in small bills and wrapped them in a beautiful silver box, and the photobook was printed minutes before we got to the bridal shop.  


as soon as we got in, we sat down.


"we have a gift to give you,"  amanda said, as she handed andrea the silver box.  i immediately started crying.  {what is wrong with me? i have totally turned into such a softie.}


as andrea opened the box, she screamed.


"ahhhh! what is this??" she yelled, and looked at each of us.  i looked at kelly through my tears and saw her own.  now we were all crying.  


"it's a gift for you, for your wedding dress.  we wanted to do something for you, to let you know how much we love you and how happy we are for you,"  amanda explained.  and then told her how we had reached out and so many others had wanted to do the same.


and then, andrea began to cry.


here is the thing.  


i have rarely seen someone go through so much for so long, and still continue to keep her soft heart.  but she has done this on her own, digging herself out of the deep holes that were dug for her by others who could not face their own demons and she suffered because of it.  yet she has never been vengeful, or wanted those who hurt her to suffer.  


she has never played the victim card, when she absolutely could.  she has chosen to continue to put her heart out there again, to be vulnerable.  leaving behind fear to become faith, giving everything that she had with the hope there there was still goodness to be found.


and by doing so, she has found it.


and this is why, within a mere 48 hours, the outpouring of love for this amazing girl came.  and for the few of us who were able stand there and present tangible evidence that all of those experiences of her past that told her she was not deserving of goodness and love were absolutely untrue...


it was an amazing experience for all of us.  


we cried and hugged and cried some more.  

and then, we watched as andrea tried on some gorgeous dresses.  and we watched as she was able to pick one that looked like it was made for her.  and we watched as she was able to pay for almost the entire dress in cash.  we know there is more financial responsibility coming for her, but it felt great to know that some of the burden was lifted.

then we went to lunch, and we talked about all that has happened in the last two years.  how she has changed, not only on the inside but on the outside.  


there is a light that andrea has.  one that has always been there, but had been dimmed by those who hurt her.  but now it shines through her.  


today was an incredible day,


and i have a feeling that there are going to be a lot more.




****i feel immense gratitude toward those who reached out and helped make this possible.  i know not many know all of the details of andrea's story, but it didn't matter.  thank you so much!! 

******** also, if you would like a chance to send andrea a gift there is still time and i know she would absolutely appreciate it. there is a lot still ahead for her, and we only had time to reach out to those we knew.  if you're interested, leave a comment here or send me a message through facebook with a way for me to contact you and i will get in touch with you! 

digging in my heels

{this picture has nothing to do with my post, i just love these 2 little girls}

i have a boatload of things to do right now, but i'm too wound up to do any of it.  i keep wandering around the house, feeling twisted and frustrated and a little helpless.  so?  i will write.


no analogies here today, folks.  no deep metaphors or making a big story out of nothing.  let's just straight talk.


since the beginning of ben's school in 2008, it has felt like it has been a constant fight for finding success. to just accomplish the requirements ben is asked, it feels like we are constantly swimming upstream in a deep ocean full of small, choppy waves, and then switching to big kahuna waves.  


oh shoot, there's an analogy/metaphor.  i just can't turn it off, i guess.  


continuing on.


we have come to crossroads several times in these 4 years of attempting a degree in higher education.  places where we have literally found ourselves on our knees, praying for a miracle.  praying for patience.  praying to hand our will over to God's, praying for faith to know there is a plan for us.  and our prayers are always answered, once we let go and surrender.  and recognize just how they have been answered, because they always are.


we have accepted consequences for mistakes, and have tried to keep our heads high and just accept the outcomes of choices made by others who hold our fate and future in their hands.


but darn it all, sometimes i just get so tired of it.  when we are doing all that we can, both of us, sacrificing so much.  sleep, time, money, freedoms that only those in grad school can understand.  because we believe that it in the end, these sacrifices will pay off.  a better life, more freedoms than we were experiencing before we made the jump into school.  allowing ben a career that not only he is good at, but that he enjoys and feels fulfillment.  it is big for both of us, that in some small way, we can make the world a better place.  that was and continues to be our intention for this decision. going into the mental health field is not because the career is going to be a piece of cake, you know?


we have watched our friends achieve this, and i am so happy for them, truly.  but to continually watch those pass us by while we feel so stuck.  there are days it can be hard.  


today is one of those days.  ben has worked his tail off on the defense of his proposal for his dissertation, and was asked by certain people to do more than what is required of his peers, because this place requires more, and is allowed such a short time to do it.  so he does it.  we do it, because it is actually both of us working together.


he turns it in on time, completed.  all that is asked.  we wait to hear back from this place, for the approval that is required to move forward.  and wait, and wait, and wait. 


on tuesday is ben's one chance to defend this proposal, and if he doesn't, then we are set back for an entire year.  everything is finished, his classes, his practicum.  we will still be here, stuck.  


but we're waiting on the approval, and were just informed that they have not even looked at his proposal yet.  not even looked at it!  he turned it in 6 weeks ago!  he asks if they can look at it and approve it by tuesday.  "not likely, we would have needed more notice..." is the response he is given.


which is when i want to show up on their doorstep and yell, HOW MUCH MORE NOTICE DID YOU NEED?  9 YEARS???


it's probably a good thing this place is in texas, because i would be fighting the urge to seriously walk my 4 foot 11 1/2 inch self to take them on.  i know, i'm so intimidating!  


i realize there are much bigger things going on in the world.  that on the richter scale of life and catastrophic things, it's minor.  but today it feels big.  and sometimes i just exhausted from the fight, you know?  


i keep an eye on the prize, i visualize that day that ben walks down the aisle of his graduation, receives his certificate, and i know i will be a ball of racking sobs.  because these last few years of school have really taken their toll.  on ben, on myself.  we were just talking a week or so ago about how we feel like we are shadows of our former selves.  and dang it all, i just want us back.  


i know once school is over, it leaves our future still uncertain.  there will be big decisions facing us, and making big decisions is not our forte, so it's not like it will be all smooth sailing once he graduates.  but those are the trials and challenges that i am ready for.  


these trials?  where all that we've worked toward can be set back for another year of more debt while we're just twiddling our thumbs because someone else is too lazy to pick up a report, read it and approve it?


okay, vent session over.


i know that God is a God of miracles.  i know it!  we have witnessed it so many times.  we have a son who not only survived a 35 minute seizure, but survived it without any brain damage, even though his brain was deprived of oxygen during that time, and we were told it would be almost impossible for him to not be affected by it.  and that's just one personal example.  


our life is in His hands, and he knows who we are and what we need.  we have been blessed so many times throughout these 4 years, and we will continue to be blessed.  


now that i've vented my frustration, i can take a deep breath and surrender.  however it works out, will be for our benefit.


i have faith, i believe, i accept His plan.  


we'll keep fighting, digging our heels in with faith that He knows us better than we know ourselves.  we'll continue to swim, even if our muscles are aching and tired.  we'll hang on through it, even if it means we add on another year.  i can make it through another arizona summer.


icanmakeitthroughanotherarizonasummer.  icanmakeitthroughanotherarizonasummer. 

My motto for the past year is needed again:

"Be of good cheer.  The future is as bright as your faith."  --Thomas S. Monson

memories like a river running through my head

oh, brandi carlile.

this was one of the songs she sang last year at one of her concerts i was able to go to.  if you have a chance to see her live, take it.







she speaks to me and rips my heart out at the same time.

instincts, speeches, screams, escape plans, business tone, snowmen, connecting and grace all wrapped up into one road trip.

i love a good road trip.

i love my children.

but my children with me on road trips?  well, i consider that a true test of my mothering abilities.

for the most part, i have pretty great kids.  the first two arriving with big personalities.  which is something i love about them...until we're all trapped together in a car for {what feels like endless} hours with those two personalities competing with each other.  survival of the fittest.

ben and i have tried a variety of tactics and with trial and error, we have decided what works best:  seating them as far apart as possible in the vehicle.


when we first begin each trip, they both are excited to sit by one another.  begging, pleading, promising us they will get along, we have caved one time too many.  letting them sit together, our fingers crossed that maybe, after years of attempting to cultivate it, this is the beginning of a beautiful sibling relationship.

within about 5 minutes, we realize our first mistake:  going against our initial gut instincts.  parents, never do this!  you know it will most likely lead to disasters beyond your wildest imaginations!

the shrieks that ensue once one has picked up a toy that the other one has suddenly decided is their favorite toy ever, is only the beginning.  it then cycles to the older one determined to making the younger one understand the complex social etiquettes of north american culture in children, believing that if he talks and explains in detail long enough, he can convince his more-primal-instincts-younger-sister to see his enlightened ways, and peacefully hand back the precious trinket she has just yanked from his tightly-gripped fingers.

when that doesn't happen after a 10 minute soliloquy including pouring his heart out and delivering his most persuasive argument to date thus far, and she returns his well-thought out speech with a stubborn and resounding reply of "NO!"

is when you-know-what hits the analogylitic {yes i just made that up} fan.

then on cue, i look over to see the calm and peaceful baby staring at me nervously, thoughtfully expressing to me with her eyebrows arched in fear that she has contemplated her escape plan and knows just where the closest exit is to her round little feet.

her concern now lies in her abilities to execute that escape plan, and she sends requests to me that come in the form of her adorable little "hoo-hoo's", in between gulps of her bottle, sweetly asking if i would assist her with this?

and i realize that it's unfair for her.  to be the third, the calm one, stuck in the back with her only company now turning into two shrieking hyenas that no amount of layers of knitted hat over her tiny ears can drown out.

so i do what any good mother would.

"that's IT!"  i exclaim, and what ben calls "business tone" takes over my voice.  and face.  and posture. and heart.  i motion for ben to pull off to the next exit.  we open the doors and get to work.

hauling leah in her carseat up to the middle row, confiscating the toy that began this debacle, and then announcing to them {with my voice an octave lower than it normally sits} that unless they shape up, we-will-turn-this-car-around-and-go-back-home-where-they-can-sit-in-their-rooms-for-the-rest-of-the-day-and-forget-about-this-vacation.  {and yes, of course i realize just where my oldest acquired his amazingly determined speech-delivery skills}

and that is how, 30 minutes into our 12-15 hr-each-way road trip, things settle down.

but by this point in time, i'm already wondering why did i think this was a good idea?  and how are we going to get through the next 2 days of traveling with everyone {myself included} making through it alive?  and then after a week of fun, get back in the car for another 2 days to go through it again?

but i look at ben, my optimistic partner in crime, who continues to believe in the power of a good family road trip regardless of fighting children,

and sigh.  and decide to change my attitude, bite the bullet, and keep going.


we make a snowman during one of our get-out-of-the-car-before-we-all-go-mad stops.

we turn on our favorite non-children-music, road trip CD's and sing at the top of our lungs.  we talk about deep, meaningful things, and make jokes about shallow, non-meaningful things.  we connect and hold hands and daydream about our hopefully impending future where our kids become lovers of road trips the way we are.


and somewhere along the way, amidst tantrums, and spills, and cries, and whines,

magic
happens.

like a piece of grace falling from the sky and landing directly into the walls of our dark blue minivan, they simultaneously sleep for 2 out of what-turned-into 16 hours on the road.

those 2 hours of peace and quiet, staring in amazement at their angelic faces, reminded me that road trips are like a compact look at motherhood as a whole.  there are a lot of hard and un-fun moments, but the ones that are rewarding are magnified so greatly when they happen.

and those moments were what convinced me to get back in the car and do it all over again, on the way home.


***for some added fun, want to actually see my children fight?  here's a video of our road trip, i made it for the weekly monday vlog on the blog i write for, Baby Half Off.  click on the video to watch the insanity unfold....

spring break

this week, the kiddos and i are here:

and i have to say, we're having a fabulous time with our family and friends.

  

i sometimes forget just how much i miss the mountains.

more about our spring break later.

rash.

yesterday she woke up with just a few spots, on her arms and legs.  


do they itch? i asked.  no momma, it's just a yittle rash, she replied.  {she has such a big vocabulary and yet still cannot pronounce her "L's" correctly if they're at the beginning of a word. and the truth is, i kind of hope she always talks this way.} 


and carried on her sunshine-y way.  but i knew better, i'd seen something similar before.  several years ago, on our nephew.  an allergy to amoxicillin.  just to be safe, i didn't give her the morning dose, prescribed from an ear infection last week.  and i called the doctor.  


i got her ready for her morning fitness class, and as i was pulling her out of the van to go into the class, i noticed the rash had spread.  a LOT.  she skipped her class, and we went straight for the doctor.  


it will get worse before it gets better, the doctor informed me, confirming that it is, in fact, an allergy to amoxicillin.  


worse? the doctor wasn't kidding.



this is what she looks like today.

there are certain areas where they're hurting her, around her elbows and knees.  but other than that, the rash's bark is worse than its bite.  


still, poor little girl.


{side note:  this is about the 5th or 6th time she's had amoxicillin in her life, and she's never had this reaction before.  i was under the impression that she wasn't allergic to it because she'd had it before.  guess i was wrong.}

0,1, 2, 3.

birth day post.

one year post.

two year post.  

three.

we spent your day celebrating with you.


reading, laughing, imagining,tickling,
making up stories,twirling
singing, running with balloons,
and reflecting back on 
how much our lives
changed for the better 3 years ago, 
at just before 6 a.m.

happy birthday, my hilarious, beautiful and unique little leah layne.

we've had 3 full years to love you, 

and we are so blessed because of it.