Thursday, January 29, 2015

Cleanliness is Happiness


It is true, I am a bit crazy when it comes to cleaning.

Just ask Jeffrey.

When my house is a mess, I just feel disorganized chaos inside and so I am in a constant state of trying to get things clean. That is not to say I am a clean person. I am actually rather messy. But I try hard to keep things neat, so our home has some very interesting dynamics going on. Especially considering my standard of cleanliness is quite a bit higher than a lot of other people's. My mom taught us to work hard and clean hard, and then I was a custodian all through high school, and a bit afterward, so I really know how to clean!

But I am a bit obsessive. I do a fairly good job of keeping the surface areas clean, or the places people will see, all while feeling guilty and anxious inside because I know that even though they can't see it the house is actually a mess. But when the cleaning bug bites me, look out! I go crazy and clean everything in sight until the but wears off, or I crash into my bed from over exhaustion. Last week I was cleaning after I tucked the kids in, and decided to just keep going until I got tired. I deep cleaned. I washed walls, scrubbed the baseboards, mopped, re-arranged, washed spots off the carpet, etc. At 4:30 I still didn't feel tired but decided I should probably go to bed. When I woke up, however, I still felt like cleaning. So I kept going, until I crashed around noon and just began crafting, which made me late for the book club that I was hosting at my house. After that, though, I sort of wore myself out and didn't clean again all weekend. Which eventually, the stress from having a messy house because I wasn't cleaning it, gave me a migraine. Lovely, right?

I guess you could say I am selectively obsessive?

That said, my laundry/craft room has been a nightmare of a mess since September. And the family room gets frightening on a regular basis, but really, I have been so crazy busy, I haven't had a spare moment to just tackle the mess. Which has made my mental state less than ideal. From September until now I have had birthdays and holidays and Primary Program, and school, and the miscarriage and all sorts of stress, impeding me from a good cleaning. Very unfortunate.

Until this week, that is.

Thus far I have had it all week. Monday I cleaned the upstairs which had gotten trashed from my cleaning hiatus over the weekend. I deep cleaned the parts of the house that people don't usually see. My bathroom, bedroom, and Beth's bedroom. I switched out all the upstairs toilet seats and WD-40'd all the doors. Tuesday we did a whole lot of playing with friends, and yet while visiting with Adrienne, I kept cleaning. I began on my mammoth of a basement where it was dangerous to walk. Keith has gotten cut on his foot twice now from just walking through the family room. It is that bad.

I cleaned until 3 this morning, and I got my laundry/craft room clean! You can walk in it now. Things can be created or washed in there now, yo! And, I started a new book last night after I had finished as much as I could do and I was waiting to switch a load of wash before I went to bed. I decided it is high time I read Catcher in the Rye, so there you have it. Hopefully I can give a report on it next week.
After doing the whole run around dropping kids off at school, and rushing to the store because I forgot to buy milk the last time I was there, and then falling to peer pressure and joining a friend at JoAnn's which is Targets smooth talking crafty cousin who gets you to buy things you don't need but want, and makes you feel awesome as you are walking out of the store with projects in mind, but like a complete slacker 3 years later when said project hasn't even begun. After all that, I was finally able to get down to buid'ness again. I sorted through the Christmas/Halloween/St. Patrick's/Valentine/Winter/Easter boxes and organized them. Things had just been thrown in willy nilly, combining and mixing things up so nothing could actually be found. Also, all the dress ups and stuffed animals were intermingling with the high brow decor society and I had to break up a few parties, banishing the dress ups and animals back to their box in the corner where they could glare at me and quietly protest the segregation.

I ended up with 4 Christmas bins, 4 Halloween bins, and small boxes for the rest of the decor. It isn't hard to tell which holidays we favor, is it? I moved all the decor out to the shed and ended with a grand total of 13 boxes of decorations. And I am now so excited for more holidays to come up because I will get to use my fun decorations! But getting all that chaos sorted and organized was lie a spring breeze blowing through my stuffy mess blocked heart. And when I got all of that out and organized in the shed, it was like I became a new woman.

I cannot even begin to explain the relief and tranquility that is now residing in my heart. Tonight after Jeffrey and I did a last cleaning sweep of the kitchen before retiring to bed, I stopped in the doorway and looked around. The knowledge that my house is clean is probably one of the best feelings ever! We were talking about how nice it is, and I realized a slight problem. I don't really know what to do with myself tomorrow.

And then I remembered.

I will always have Faye's room.

Even if we clean it, the very next day it will look as if it were inhabited by her evil twin who is part slovenly hoarder and part ferret. That is her talent. In the twinkling of an eye, any room in which Faye is playing, no matter how clean it may be at the start, can be transformed to appear as if it were struck by a natural disaster.

And so, I am reveling in the fact that my house, for the moment, feels like it has been visited by Mr. Clean, and I finally have some peace.

Until tomorrow.

Today while Keith was practicing the piano, he was telling me that he is learning how to type. He has learned "home row," except he told me that he has to put a 'T" in every word he types. 

"Because if I don't, it just doesn't feel like a real word." 

I asked him "what about the word 'hand'?" 

"I am only on home row, Mom. I haven't gotten that far yet."

That kid cracks me up.

Faye, on the other hand, is growing up way too fast.


Last week while I was playing the piano, Faye came and sat next to me on the bench. She looked so small and sweet, smiling and leaning her head against my arm as I practiced Beethoven. While I paused to go over a more difficult part, she said, "Mom! I can sound like a cheerleader. Want to hear?"

I smiled and encouraged her to go ahead.

She took a deep breath, tossed her head loftily and with an amazing amount of aloofness said "Psh. Whatever!"

I hope she gets all of her teenage angst out before she actually means it.

Over the weekend I was working on the computer in my room when they walked in giggling. I asked them what was up and Keith said "I am the bottom and Faye is the top."

Confused, I asked for clarification, and they informed me that they were being Daddy. Keith was going to be the bottom, and Faye the top. I laughed and told them to let me know how it worked out for them.

Five minutes later they came back to my room and said "Hey, Amy. How is your day going?" I looked up to see Keith wearing Jeffrey's pajama pants, pulled up to his shoulders. Faye was wearing Jeffrey's t-shirt and a hat, and was sitting on Keith's shoulders. 


After they saw that I saw them, they could no longer contain their hilarity and fell onto the bed, the three of us belly laughing. I love how creative they are!


Beth of course is an adorable little angel. She is 18 months and is now wanting to potty train. 


Gosh, I love that girl! We are having intermittent success, but that may be more so my fault. I need to be more dedicated and focused to help her. But the fact that she loves to sit on the potty really gives me high hopes that she will be my fastest potty training baby. And yes, I am bragging. Fingers crossed anyway.

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Farewell Afternoon Tea


Friday morning, Faye and I decided we were going to have a tea party.

It was our last day of watching Mimi, and we decided it would be wonderful to celebrate with her.

We went to the grocery store and browsed the isles, carefully deciding what would go best with our impromptu afternoon tea. We invited one of Faye's friends to join us, and we set to work straightening up the kitchen from breakfast and getting out the pretty dishes and everything we would need. I also found some ridiculously large diamond rings at the dollar store I thought would be a fun way to surprise them all with.

While the girls played and Mimi flirted with Captain Kirk on her ipad, I chatted with my friend (Faye's friend's mom) and chopped vegetables, arranged foods and heated up the water for the cocoa and postum. I set the table all fancy like, and then called everyone to lunch.

The girls burst from the family room, exploding up the steps like a cannon blast. There was confusion, clattering chairs, jostling elbows as everyone fought over who would sit where. My friend and I got to intervene to establish peace among the warring nations of who wanted the stool and who would get the purple ring. While they had been playing downstairs, they had been going through the dress ups, getting ready for their elegant and fashionable afternoon tea.


I established the rules for the guests who do not often join us for our teas. No slurping, manners are enforced, pinkies up, and above all, you must use a British accent. It doesn't matter how atrocious it is, no one there will be judging, but you must at least attempt. I would also accept Irish, Scottish or Welsh, but that is all. In fact, if anyone ever actually pulled off a decent Welsh accent, I think they would have won the tea party.


Once rules were understood, we had a blessing on the food (it was our lunch, after all), and the festivities began.


It was so much fun! I love playing dress up and tea party with Faye and the girls. I love helping them feel so grown up and special. It is also delightsome to me to be able to teach the girls a little about other parts of the world. Granted, we do have a very stereotypical afternoon tea. And it is just for fun. But about half the time, questions do come up from the girls about England, or other parts of the world. We talk about monarchies, or governments. It can be like a world Civ. class, albeit much more fun.

We chatted, and the girls laughed and impressed me by eating all of their vegetables. They politely excused themselves when they had finished eating lunch and went downstairs to play.

Mimi loved it. Every second. The laughter, the girls, the huge fake diamond ring. She loved the food and just gushed over everything. I love her so much and we are really going to miss her being around every day.

My friend Kati had to leave to pick up her daughter from school so she left her girls and while she was gone I cleaned up the lunch and got out the dessert. It was arranged all nicely on my dessert trays with doilies beneath the dainty eclairs and cookies. When Kati got back with her daughter and Keith was home from school, I pulled out two more tea cups and saucers, gave them some hot cocoa, and called the other girls up for dessert.

And a repeat of lunch.

I love afternoons like that.

Mimi basked in the energy and excitement of all of the kids. She beamed as they shouted and laughed and quarreled. She loved when they asked her questions and simply glowed with the excitement and joy of the special tea party we had for her.

All too soon it was cleaned up and put away. The kids went back downstairs to play, and Mimi went back to scolding the girls who were kissing her boyfriend, Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise. And then her sister came to pick her up, and took her home.

And that is the last time Mimi will be here.

Saturday morning Jeffrey and I took the kids to my parent's house, and then we went to his parent's house. My job was to keep Mimi occupied. Jeffrey helped his mom, sister and uncle move all of Mimi's belongings to the assisted living center she will now be living in. It was a very difficult decision for my mother in law to make. We all just love Mimi, and it will be hard on both her and my mother in law, who has been her primary care taker for more than ten years now, not to mention the years she spent watching out for her little sister who has Down Syndrome, all growing up. But the center is within walking distance of my in law's house, so visiting will be a fairly easy thing to do. It is just hard, is all. To not have her around all of the time. But I agree whole heartedly with my mother in law that it is time for her to have the extra help she needs.


Maybe it was a good bye tea party for Mimi, and maybe it was to appease my own... whatever emotion it is that I can't find a word for. Either way, it was a blast, and I am sure glad we did it. I am plotting out plans in my brain for when the kids and I can take a tea party to Mimi in her new "apartment."

Thursday, January 15, 2015

Wheezing and Rascals

Today Mimi was scaring me. She is 60 now, which in Down Syndrome translates to so much older than that.

Lately, she has been having.. complications of sorts. She always has a harder time in January, for some reason. January bumps, we call them. Every year in January things just seem to get bumpy for her health wise.

While she comes here, I do everything I can to help her be comfortable and happy, but this week has just been hard. She gets here and wants to lay down. I have to help her up and down and to the bathroom, and all of that good stuff.  Lately, though, especially this week, she has been wheezing when she breathes while laying down. She has been having trouble with lots of things. Monday I called my mother in law to come and check on Mimi. Her pulse was lower and the breathing thing was really weird and worrisome.

Especially today. She had me rushing into the room where she was every two minutes or so with her wheezing breathing. I was so worried about her! I tried recording her breathing to show her sister (my mother in law) and see what she thought about it, to see if she was worried as well.

I wasn't sure if it was Mimi thinking if she scared me enough I would call her sister who would come and rescue her, or if it was actually something to worry about.

When my MIL got there, I showed her the videos of Mimi, and she looked at Mimi, and said "Mimi, are you being dramatic?"

And Mimi laughed.

All the wheezing and whimpering she had been doing was just her being dramatic, having fun scaring me.

That nymph!

She is just a rascal.

Speaking of rascals, Beth has been all over the place lately.  I was trying to clean today, I turned around and found this.

A few minutes later I turned around and she was at it again.

Between those two, life is never dull.

Wednesday, January 14, 2015

Shovel To The Face

It was a beautiful quiet afternoon today. Just still and muffled with those lovely cotton echoing clouds that were as grey as a noir film. I was working in my bedroom this afternoon, reveling in the rare quiet that comes from the echos of the children playing outside bouncing off the house and a sleeping baby. The infrequent quiet that is always interrupted too soon. Today's interruption came not 2 minutes after the kids went outside. The bright and happy echoing laughter outside suddenly turned sour which was noticable as the whole energy of the house changed and seconds later Keith quietly came in the house. He had tears mutely rolling down his face and he was trying desperately to keep the tears in and be quiet so as not to wake the baby. 

I love that he is so considerate. Had it been Faye, she would have burst into the house, slammed the door, and with all the dramatics she could muster would have stomped down the hallway like an elephant stampede, wailing like an angry banshee, ready to unleash her fury or have me deliver a swift justice to her offender. But Keith, he is an altogether different sort of child. He quietly closed the front door and tiptoed down the hall so as not to wake the baby, and came into my room, whimpering.

I immediately jumped up and gave him a hug, wiped away his tears and asked him what was wrong. 

With tears spilling down the rosy cold cheeks, he whimpered "Faye hit me in the face with a shovel."

"What?!" I gasped in shock.

"Faye hit me in the face with the snow shovel," he repeated. I told him I had heard him the first time, I just didn't want to believe it.

At that point, the dramatic Faye came flying into the room, snow covering her boots, face set in an angry and injured expression.

"Well, it's not my fault! The snow made me do it." she exploded, "He threw snow at my back and I didn't want him to."

It was hard to not laugh at the absurdity. Keith wanted to have a snowball fight with his sister and she quickly turned it into a jailhouse brawl. He threw some snow at her which hit the back of her coat. No snow touched her skin or hurt her in any way. Like an unpredictable tornado she quickly turned on him. Lucky she doesn't know what a shank is! At least we know she can and always will take care of herself. 

Faye and I had a long talk then, about how it is okay to not want to participate, but it isn't ever okay to hit someone, especially not with a shovel! She felt bad and began crying because the gravity of her actions began to sink in.  That girl is going to have a hard time in school if she doesn't get her temper or her violence under control quickly! I have a lot to work on with her.

I admit, when I was telling Jeffrey about it, I had a hard time actually getting it out because I was laughing so much. What a funny story. Her reaction outweighs the perceived insult by so much it is ludicrous and hilarious at the same time. 

And then they made up and were best friends again.

Like always. 

After the drama, we had a Harry Potter party where we finished the first book again. While we were reading, Beth entertained herself in the kitchen.


Because boxes are pesky and slippery transparent booby traps are so much more efficient at home security. A la Home Alone. At least she and the cat had fun today and stayed out of trouble while we were reading. And you can't tell, but she is currently in an anti diaper mood and thinks it is the funniest thing in the world to go around bare bummed.


I would say "at least she is entertained," but who am I kidding? Her sense of humor and particular form of rebellion have me in fits of laughter all day. 

Gosh, I love being a mom!

Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Irish Pub Potatoes and Romance in the Toilet Isle


Yesterday was our 8 year anniversary. It is sort of surreal that so much time has gone by. I feel like Jeffrey and I have always been together, and yet it seems like yesterday that we got married. Funny how time can do that, isn't it? We didn't really get to celebrate yesterday, though, because Jeffrey is now working 10-11 hour days and is so tired when he gets home from work. Anticipating this, the kids and I got some pizza, enjoyed our dinner, I got them ready for bed, and by seven o'clock they were all in bed and he and I could enjoy a few short hours together before we had to go to sleep.

So we ate pizza and watched Red Dwarf.

Because we are romantic like that.

We did get to celebrate on Saturday, though. Some dear friends of ours set up with Jeffrey for them to come over and watch the kids so we could go on a date. It was supposed to be a surprise, but I figured out something was going on by the way Jeffrey kept walking out of the room when he got a phone call, and how he would smile every time he walked back in. I hate surprises, and so lovingly coerced him into telling me what was up. It was such a sweet gesture, and I am so grateful for them and their help. And because we are so romantic, we got Indian food and then went to the hardware store. Jeffrey got a lock for our shed, we picked out colors swatches to paint the kitchen and Beth's room, and we bought a new toilet seat. It was steamy in the hardware store, I tell you what! Nothing like a toilet seat to get the passion and romance rolling. 

Today was back to business as usual. The girls and I cleaned up the upstairs and then Faye's room, and then I spent the afternoon in the kitchen baking. Cookies, rolls, and a gorgeous concoction I dubbed Irish Pub Potatoes.

Oh my glorious goodness! I had no idea they would be as good as they actually were. I don't mean to toot my own horn, but I would pay good money for those potatoes again. And I am not a potato lover. Then again, if you add bacon, guacamole and cheese to anything, it will make it incredible. For the recipe follow the link to my recipe blog. You can thank me later.

Keith and Faye have been making me laugh. 


This one should be a movie poster. Faye is such a poser and cracks me up so much!


They get up to the funniest things, and I love when they come in and demand I photograph them. 




Since Jeffrey dubbed January as "No TV Month" we have been doing a lot of reading as a family. 


It has been so wonderful, and I think every one of us has benefited from it. When we have our family read-a-thons, I don't get much reading from my books done, though. Someone has to read to the girls. 

But I don't mind. I love how Beth will grab a book, hand it to me and demand "tory!" She will then slowly back up into my lap and snuggle there while I read the book times infinity, or until I don't turn the pages fast enough.

I can't wait to see what adventures tomorrow brings. And more of those potatoes!

Friday, January 9, 2015

Rosy Cheeks, Fresh Bread, and the OR


This. Right now. This is my favorite time of the day.

Keith just got home from school and is outside playing with Faye in the snow, or what little bit we have left. Beth is just waking up from her nap, making little cooing sounds in her crib, and the kitty is sleeping on my feet, purring away and keeping me warm.

I love hearing happy sounds from the children. Nothing is better, seriously. Except maybe watching the cat execute a stretch too close to the bed and fall off.  Yes, that just happened. It may have made me laugh a little too much. But that is why we got the cat, right? For my own personal entertainment.

I really should do an update from yesterday but I don't want to right now. Right now I want to talk about how nice it is to have a routine again. How the sun is angled just so creating the perfect glow in my bedroom, like a soap opera, that fake lighting but is really real and perfect. I want to talk about Beth making kitty sounds, mewing from her bed, or Faye and her newly discovered sense of style.

But I really should talk about yesterday before it fades, though it isn't nearly as interesting as all the aforementioned things.

It was just a regular day in the beginning. I took Keith to school and then took the girls to a friend's house so I could go to my doctor appointment to make sure the miscarriage had happened and all was well. Except while I was at my appointment, my midwife did an ultrasound and said she wanted a second opinion and sent me to the doctor that is over her. His office was at the hospital across town.

I went to his office, they squeezed me in, and he talked about just doing a blood count to make sure I was okay on blood loss, and then letting it just take care of itself. He said I would probably bleed for another week or so, but I would be fine.Or, if I really wanted to be done with it all, I could schedule a D&C which would take place in a week or two, whenever they could fit me in to their schedule in the OR. But really, the blood count should be fine and that is what he was recommending. He was very close to just doing that, when he suddenly decided he should probably do an ultrasound as well.

During the ultrasound, he frowned at the placenta. It looked wrong, he said. Just in case of a molar pregnancy he wanted to get me in for a D&C asap. Either that day or the next, but before it could pass.  He said he doubted it was molar, but wanted a sample just in case because it is better to be safe than sorry.

And with that, my regular kind of day was flipped into a mad mess of rushing about.

He had his secretary schedule with the other hospital for a spot in the OR that day so he could do the D&C. I got to go register and do all that fun stuff, go home and pick up Beth so she could have a little nap, check Keith out of school and take him and Beth back to our friend's house (thank you Adrienne!) and then rush back to the hospital so I would be on time for the appointment.

And then, boom!

It was done.

Everything went very smoothly, which was wonderful as my other experience with a miscarriage landed me in the hospital overnight due to excessive bleeding. We finished, and while I was trying so hard to wake up from the anesthesia, I got to answer a bazillion messages that had come in while I was under. Some appointments I had forgotten to cancel, and other things. It was a madly chaotic sort of day.

But I did get a new mug! I had just thrown mine away about 2 months ago, so the new mug bit made me oh so happy!

That may be my favorite part about giving birth. Aside from getting a new baby, of course.

On our way home, Jeffrey and I stopped by Cafe Rio for some much desired food. Neither of us had eaten since breakfast. Me because of the whole OR thing, and Jeffrey, because he is sweet and was worried so couldn't eat. He figured he would eat when I could. I tried to tell him that was silly and he should eat as it would help to calm him a bit, but he was being gallant and wouldn't.

What a day, I tell you! But it is wonderful to have things back to normal now. And I love that I can dote on my sweet little chidlers all day today. Because they deserve it and I didn't get to spend time with any of them yesterday. So, my plans for today are to play with the kids and bake bread, because fresh baked bread is just the greatest thing in the winter. Year round it is good, but it seems to have a better flavor when the kids come in from playing, cheeks all rosy, fingers and toes numb with cold, but with appetites raving and craving something warm and hearty. That is when I love to feed them fresh hot bread the most.

And that was my very boring but busy day yesterday.


Wednesday, January 7, 2015

TMI or The one where I share way too much and if you have a queasystomach, maybe you shouldn't read this one.


Bed rest.

That is what today feels like.

Not that I have ever been on bed rest before, but I will still claim the comparison.

Except my little baby who isn't so little anymore is keeping me company today.  She is sitting in my reading chair, eating peanuts and making the cutest munching noises in the history of the world.
I am loving this moment!

It all began in November, about a week before Thanksgiving.

I found out I was pregnant.

I was so happy! I told Jeffrey and amazingly enough, he was excited. I think that was the first time he didn't have a mini melt down after hearing he was going to have another baby. He is great once they get here, but the stress of a baby always freaks him out at first.

So we had a wonderful happy secret and I had an excuse to not clean out the litter box.

All was well in the world.

And I wasn't even sick!

December began with warm weather and the end of a semester, which means lots of stress. The end of the semester bit, the warm weather was odd, but nice. Especially when Jeffrey had his capstone project for school.  Which is his school's equivalent to a thesis. That meant late hours of homework, very little patience, and stress.  On top of the regular Christmas chaos.  Jeffrey worked on his paper, and I had the ridiculously delightful job of proof reading and editing. We submitted the proposal Christmas Eve and had a glorious Christmas day, free of stress and worry. The proposal was in!

Christmas day we told our family members about the coming baby. They were as excited as we were!

The day after Christmas we began the hard work of doing the actual paper. The thesis, if you will. Jeffrey and I completely neglected the kids and let them turn their brains to soup in front of the teley as we worked all day, and long hours on that paper.

The night before New Year's Eve I found a little blood. I worried a little, but really had to help Jeffrey finish his paper and get it submitted before the new year, so I pushed all worry aside, and we pushed full steam ahead with that paper. He got it submitted around 1 in the afternoon on New Year's Eve. Yay! It was graded that night and he passed.

Which means he is so close to being done with school now. Just one more class! SO excited!!!

At 1:45 I went in to see my midwife to check on the baby.

I hadn't been in yet, because the contract Jeffrey worked for was ending on the 31st and he was signing on with a new one January 1st, which meant different/new insurance. So I was just going to wait to go in after the new year, which would have put me around 12 weeks along. But the lack of being sick and the bit of blood had me worried, so I made an emergency appointment and went in to see my midwife.

She did an ultrasound and there was no movement. No heart beating. And it was the wrong size. It measured about 7 weeks.

I had to take a few deep breaths before I could talk.

I was afraid of that, though I somehow already knew.

My midwife is wonderful. I had gone through this once before with her already, and she was very sympathetic and understanding, though I couldn't really speak. I drove home, crying and not wanting to go home. I wasn't ready to be around people, yet. I called Jeffrey and told him the news, and he was amazing and supportive. I drove and cried and talked my heartache out with him. It was decided I would head to Target. You know, every woman's happy place where they enter just needing to get "one thing," and leaving with heavy carts and light bank accounts. Jeffrey was going to see if he could get off early and meet me there.

I wandered the store, not really looking at anything, slightly terrified I would begin crying again because I really had no control over my tear ducts at that moment. I didn't see anything to entice me and my coveting meter was so low it wasn't even functioning. I just wandered, waiting for my rock to come support me. He was able to leave the office, and once we met up, we went to the electronics section. All either of us wanted to do for NYE was watch Indiana Jones and go to bed.

Early.

We were supposed to have friends coming over to play games that night, but we cancelled on them because I really didn't want to be around people. I needed time to process.  And I was still weepy. I didn't want to suddenly burst into tears when we were playing or laughing. Besides, I wasn't ready to put on a brave face, yet.

And so, we got Chinese food, set the clocks ahead a couple of hours, watched a show with the kids, and sent them to bed, immediately followed by ourselves going to bed.

The next day I processed some more, except I didn't really. I had so many things to do for primary for the new year. I didn't have time to think or process or dwell.  Folders had to be put together, a teacher meet and greet needed to be planned and executed, as well as a teacher training. I was in charge of sharing time for Sunday, I needed to help Faye write a talk, and I needed to get newsletters written up. So much to do, so little time to think about my woes.

Which really, is one of the best ways to heal, isn't it? Immerse yourself in a work and not have time to worry about yourself?

At any rate, I need to interject here. There has not been any sense of loss with this miscarriage. No feeling that someone in my family is missing. Just bitter disappointment which was gotten over quickly. I couldn't talk about it for the first two days, but after that I was fine.

I am fine.

I don't want to be painted as a tragic hero. I don't want to be felt sorry for, because I don't feel sorry for myself. I firmly believe that my family isn't complete yet, but I believe even more firmly that I am not in charge. God is in charge and knows what is best and when is the best time for our family to grow again. How can I be sad knowing that a loving Father in Heaven is watching out for me, guiding, and orchestrating things so that I can grow and my family can have the experiences that we need to grow closer together? That spirit will join my family eventually, just not yet. Besides, Beth isn't ready to be replaced as the baby in our family. She still needs lots of cuddles and love and attention before being displaced as the baby in the house.

I am not sad. I am no longer disappointed. I am so happy and blessed and grateful for all that I have.

I have been experiencing the awesome physical side of miscarriage for the past week or so, now.

Which is why I have been spending the majority of the day laying down and cuddling with Beth, cherishing her crayon eating, peanut dumping, cuddly little self today. She is a tender mercy, I tell you.

What a lucky woman I am!

LinkWithin

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...