Little Bird

ten years

2020-05-08T14:40:00.003-07:00

www.mamababyhaiti.org

anniversary grief during a pandemic

2020-04-25T17:07:00.002-07:00

I posted a short piece I wrote in my head when I couldn't sleep last week and when I signed on today I realized ... it was formatted in a really strange way and therefore unreadable.

Hopefully it's fixed now!

I don't write here as often because as the kids grow my time shrinks and I want to protect their privacy, but I usually come back when I miss Charlotte.

As the glow of Easter fades, Mother's Day and her birthday bring the missing to the forefront of my mind.

I used to think I had something to say; that the words I shared here were important.

They were important for my healing, but I think all of the pages I filled with words really could've been filed down to a few basic sentences.

My first baby died. I'll always miss her. The three I am raising don't replace the one who is gone.

On May 14th it will be ten years since Charlotte lived and died.

With ten being such a big number I thought we would finally do what we've been talking about for years: leave the kids behind and go somewhere just the two of us.

However, with a pandemic crouching on the world's shoulders, that possibility has become impossible.

How do we mark the anniversary of Charlotte's death (is it even appropriate to call it an anniversary?) when we need space to grieve and the one thing we cannot access right now is space?

I just want to sit on the beach on her birthday and let myself have time to contend with the depth of our loss without changing a diaper, or correcting a child, or pulling a child off the furniture / couch / ceiling because we have been in this house for weeks and oh my lands we needed out yesterday.

How do you commemorate the day when your child lived and then died without warning or preamble?

In years past we've had Charlotte days, but that doesn't sit comfortably with the big kids. We have one who cannot cope with the thought, the day, the sister gone, and really how can I blame the child when we've witnessed adults turning their back on us when we share of our deep grief?

My therapist said she is hearing me say that the day must be acknowledged and so suggested a cupcake in the backyard while the children watch a movie.

That sounds awful. I'd rather have my ten-year-old here, thanks very much.

But then, for so many things, on so many days I would like that option and every time I am remanded back to the place where reality takes precedence: Charlotte is dead.

That word at the end of the sentence there. They are also why I write here once a year as the anniversary approaches. It's one place where I can use the words that make people cringe: baby, dead, gone, buried, died on her birthday.

I'm still trying to figure that one out ... how babies can have a birth day and death day coexist.

In these weeks before her birthdayI wonder, where is God in that?

But then I remember that God has granted me peace with this great unknown - and particularly the gaping why of Charlotte's death - and I back off that question because I sat with it for a good long while, well over a year, and it did me zero favors or kindnesses.

I think what the parents of those who die before their time fear as the important dates near is not that they will fail to survive the tsunami waves of grief (we made it through the beginning, we can handle the birthday, the moment of death relived in our minds every year at the moment it happened) but that their child will be forgotten. Our responsibility is to carry the missing ones and our arms are heavy with the burden the fortunate cannot see.

Just this week I was cleaning every closet and surface (because what else am I going to do with my time in quarantine?) and as I lifted the commemorative bear from our dresser and shuffled the urn around to dust I was hit with the thought anew: my baby died. I'm holding what is left of her in this cold urn nestled in my hands.

On Charlotte's birthday I become who I was at the beginning of my loss; the person who wanted a tangible sign on my face or body so that everyone I encountered would know I had a daughter who died.

My grief is quieter now. It doesn't need every stranger and possible friend to know what happened to me on May 14, 2010. There are people in my life, people who know me well, who don't know there is a fourth child I carried and birthed.

Then Charlotte's birthday comes, and before that Easter comes and Mother's Day comes and as April tumbles into May the me who wants the sign begins to emerge. I want everyone I encounter to acknowledge that what has happened is awful, but at the same time I worry that if such words are spoken aloud I will not be able to stand beneath them because I will be reminded that I've lived through grief I would not wish on any other soul.

I want the impossible for Charlotte's tenth birthday. I want her here. I want a 10, 8, 6 and 2 year old. I want to know who she would be at 10 because I don't have a concept of that; not even the barest sketch. So I remember her as a baby, as the tiny 5 lb 7 oz newborn who I held for the briefest moment before she was taken from me limp and on the verge of becoming lifeless.

I'm sad and I need to be sad and I'm going to be sad until her birthday.

On May 14th, 2010 Charlotte Ava died.

I am still recovering.

The First Meeting

2020-04-16T14:02:00.001-07:00

When life goes sideways, I write. I haven't been sleeping well. On the nights it's hard to fall asleep I tell myself stories. It's how I've coped since I was little and scared of the dark. This weekend Jonathan and I cleaned out old bins full of childhood memories. It reminded me I've always wanted to be a writer. I pulled out picture books I made, certificates I earned, newspapers I contributed to and handwritten notes from teachers about how I was going to be a writer someday because my work was so far above grade level.

When this idea flew into my mind last night while I stared at the ceiling I knew I had to write it down. And now I'm going to share it with you. I wrote this in chunks throughout the day. I handwrote bits at the breakfast table and then carved out two separate computer hours to finish it. It is not grammatically perfect and it likely needs a good edit, but I hope you enjoy it.

The First Meeting

Emma tapped her fingers on the small desk in the on-call room. She hunched forward, squinting at the screen with blurry eyes as she waited for the call to begin. Emma wasn’t likely to get a full 45-minute appointment, but she wanted to grab what she could while she had time. She ran her hands through her short hair and wondered if a shower would’ve been a better choice.

When the notification about a rare opening in Dr. Han’s schedule flashed across her phone she left her patients with an understanding nurse who agreed to call if anything went south. It wasn’t typical for a doctor to be stationed in the ICU without other duties, but things hadn’t been normal for weeks and Emma knew she would be needed again soon.

Her days off were limited, her time in the hospital a never-ending cascade of emergencies and difficult decisions. Emma stared at the “your provider will be with you soon” message that was flashing on her Ipad with bleary eyes that were beginning to close.

A soft chiming sound brought Emma back from near sleep. She sat up and rubbed her eyes.

“Dr. Han! Thank you for seeing me today! I…”

Emma stopped talking and stared at the screen. A woman with long red hair and striking green eyes she had never seen before stared back at her.”

“Hello? Who are you?” Emma asked.

The woman leaned forward as if she could better understand what was happening if her face were pressed into her screen.

“Um, hi? Hello? I’m Rebecca.” She held up a cell phone. “I got a notification from Dr. Han this morning that she had an emergency opening at 10:00. It is 10:00, right? I keep mixing up days and times right now.”

Emma shifted in the uncomfortable folding chair that had been propped in the corner of the on-call room as she looked at her watch to confirm the time. She wasn’t solid on the time and date right now either.

The chime sounded again.

Emma and Rebecca stared as a woman’s torso popped up on the right side of their screens.

“Oh, shoot, sorry! I always get confused about how to best set this up … just a minute!”

The torso disappeared for a few moments and then was replaced by a breathless woman with long curly hair and a winsome smile.

“Hi, Dr. Han! I’m here!”

Emma and Rebecca began speaking over one another.

“I’m not Dr. Han … ”

“Something has gone very wrong here …”

“Oh!” the newcomer said at the same time. “You are not who I was expecting to see!” She laughed. “I didn’t know it’s possible to wander into the wrong virtual meeting! Where have I ended up?”

Rebecca smiled. “I think we are all patients of Dr. Han’s.”

Emma’s eyes widened as the implications of three patients sharing a therapist popping up in a private (supposedly closed) telehealth appointment dawned on her.

The chime sounded again and Emma groaned.

“Listen, everyone, from a healthcare perspective this is really, really bad.”

“Excuse me? What perspective?” a woman crisply asked. Her camera was angled so all they could see was her chin and neck.

“Dr. Han? I’m sorry I’m a few minutes late. I know we’ve been talking about punctuality and how I can show people their schedules matter as much as mine by being on time, but you really can’t fault me for being late right now! Nothing is normal.”

As the woman finished speaking she re-angled her camera so they could see her face. Her eyes widened and color bloomed across her cheeks as she realized she was not talking to her therapist.

She fumbled with her phone and glanced down, presumably at a calendar or schedule.

“What time is it? What day is it?” she asked as the sounds of frantic shuffling began to fill the silence.

“What meeting is this?!”

Emma was too tired to explain. She knew she would be back on the ICU floor in minutes, if not seconds. She gestured feebly at the screen, hoping someone else would jump in.

The woman who had introduced herself as Rebecca clapped her hands together.

“Okay, if I take the initiative here?” she asked.

Everyone nodded.

“Well, hi. I’m Rebecca.” She smiled and waved.

Emma nodded.

“I’m Bronte,” offered the woman with curly hair.

“Ellison here.” the last woman to join barked, her dark eyes flashing with impatience as she swept her dark hair off her shoulders.

“And I’m Emma,” said the woman who had been first to the virtual meeting.

“I think,” Rebecca continued, “we are all patients of Dr. Han’s and there was a glitch in the scheduling and telehealth platforms which resulted in all of us being scheduled for a therapy appointment without Dr. Han’s knowledge.”

Emma sighed. “That sounds correct. But again, from a healthcare perspective, this is not good.”

Bronte nodded. “I agree! I have heard that a lot of teleconference platforms are overwhelmed right now and being hacked, but I can’t believe it’s led to this!”

She paused and then smiled shyly.

“But since it has … how are you all doing?”

When no one responded Bronte quickly began speaking again.

“I wouldn’t normally ask complete strangers how they are, but I am bored and lonely and tired of talking to the same seven people.”

Seven people?!” Ellison blurted out. “Are you gathering with people outside of your household?”

Bronte laughed; a bright sound that spilled out of everyone’s screens. “No, no definitely not. I have six kids. And a husband.”

“God help you.” Ellison muttered as Rebecca said, “Oh! I have two kids.

“I have two kids as well,” Ellison said. “I knew when to stop.”

“Woah there,” Emma said. “Um, I don’t have any kids. And as you’ve likely ascertained by my outfit I have about five minutes left here so let’s try to avoid a brawl before I have to duck out.”

“Oh, I didn’t notice your scrubs,” Rebecca said softly. “Or the marks across your forehead.”

She winced. “I’ve heard wearing a mask for hours is really painful.”

Emma nodded shortly.

“How are you doing?” Bronte asked.

Emma sighed. She didn’t know how to answer when people asked her how she was doing, or how the hospital was, or when she would (and in turn they and the world at large) would get a reprieve.

She shrugged and tried to come up with something to say in response to Bronte’s question when the chime sound rang again.

Emma groaned, “Oh, this cannot be happening!” when Dr. Han’s flustered face appeared in the middle of the screen.

Her eyes dashed wildly from face to face.

“Bronte?”

“Rebecca?”

“Emma?”

“Ellison?!”

Her voice ratcheted up until she was nearly shrieking by the time she reached Ellison.

Dr. Han rubbed her hands across her face. “I was helping my girls, trying to understand their distance education requirements,” she motioned to something behind her, “when I checked my phone and saw that I had four people checked in for therapy sessions. I don’t understand how you all ended up in the same virtual meeting! I don’t know what’s gone wrong! Everything is upside down right now! I am so sorry this happened to all of you!”

Hearing Dr. Han’s typically calm patter replaced with sentences that machine-gunned out of her mouth as her face tightened with anxiety caught Ellison off guard. She expected therapists to live in a space far removed from frantic explanations and loss of control.

“Well,” Rebecca said. “I, well, I guess … I’m fine with it.” She paused and thought for a moment. “Yes. I’m fine. Mistakes happen. You didn’t cause this” she said as she pointed to Dr. Han.

Emma’s cell phone had been pinging for the last minute. She glanced down at the messages filling the screen.

“I have to go. But I don’t mind either. We can all forget this happened. Right?”

Bronte nodded.

Ellison looked as if she wanted to say something, but then she shrugged. “Fine. It’s forgotten.”

Dr. Han sighed. “Thank you. I know … ” she trailed off. “I know this could’ve been much worse for me, for my practice, for my business. I will file a complaint and switch telehealth platforms,” she assured them.

Ellison briskly nodded. “Great. I’m going to jump in on another meeting then.” She leaned over to select something on her touch screen when Dr. Han threw up a hand.

“Wait!” she cried.

The women, who were beginning to shuffle around and search for “end meeting” buttons, stopped to listen.

“What if,” Dr. Han hesitated. “What if, now that you know each other -

Ellison snorted, “That’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

“Just listen!” Rebecca said annoyed with Ellison’’s rudeness. “Isn’t this difficult time supposed to teach us to slow down and be kinder?” she huffed.

Dr. Han held up a hand. “Please, just let me say this and then you can go. I know you are all lonely. I won’t say more than that!” she reassured, “but I know this is a fraught time and it has been particularly difficult for you four.”

Bronte’s shoulders began to rise.

Dr. Han leaned forward and focused on Bronte as she continued speaking. “What if you four kept in touch? Check on one another every few days? Only through video or messaging platforms, of course! I think it would be beneficial for all of you. Is that something you would be interested in?”

Emma slapped a hand down on the desk. “I’ll think about it. I have to go.” Her screen went dark.

Dr. Han kept her eyes on Bronte who shrugged and said softly, “Yes, sure. That would be nice.”

Rebecca nodded. “I think I would be okay with that.”

Dr. Han shifted her gaze to Ellison who was making an obvious show of sorting paperwork on her desk.

She glanced up when she felt Dr. Han’s eyes on her.

“I’m with the doc who left. I’ll think about it.”

“Okay! Let me know what you decide.” Dr. Han said. “If everyone agrees I will have you fill out release forms and then I will share your contact information around. Again, I am so sorry about what happened. My assistant will be in touch about scheduling proper appointments,” she finished, her normal complacency back in place.

“Thank you, bye!” Rebecca and Bronte said.

Ellison signed off without saying goodbye.

it's been a while - but I have something for you!

2019-12-01T09:55:00.000-08:00

Hey, hi, hello- I'm still here.

I can't believe I haven't posted since May!

Homeschooling two kids while chasing a busy toddler has left me with very little time in my schedule to write.

When I was presented with the opportunity to give away a wonderful new Bible from Gateway Press I decided it was a great opportunity to revisit my online world.

One of the main reasons I homeschool is so that I can teach my kids from a Biblical Christ-focused point of view. Raising them to know and love Christ is the most important thing, but it's also important for them to see His hand over history, science and all other subjects.

I was excited about a lot of the Fresh Start Bible features - opportunities to study the Bible with clear direction and excellent teaching interspersed throughout - but what really stood out to me was the historical explanations of each book. This last year I've learned how important it is to place the history of our world in a Biblical context and this Bible helps me do that! And after I've learned I can teach it to my kids during our morning Bible time!

I've been wanting to study and know the Bible deeply and well. The Fresh Start Bible is designed to do just that.

Would you like to deepen your Biblical knowledge?

Hop over to my Instagram to enter the give-away (@angelasbookshelf)

And if you'd like me to start writing more leave a comment!

year nine

2019-05-19T13:19:00.004-07:00

It is 5 days post Charlotte's birthday. I haven't had a moment to sit down and write before now. I'm not even sure I wanted to. But this is the space where I did most of my grieving so it feels odd to let Charlotte's birthday pass without some mention.

I was doing SO well - flying high the week before her birthday, feeling like I was doing GREAT. Even the day of wasn't so bad. I didn't even cry. Not on Mother's Day, not on the day after, not on her birthday, the 14th. That was a first.

Then the 15th came and I deflated. I have wanted to spend the last five days flat on the floor with zero interactions or disruptions. I don't want to see anyone. I don't want to talk to anyone. I don't understand why I have to feed the kids three meals and two snacks every day. Basic tasks feel insurmountable.

This morning before church I stretched out on the bed after breakfast even though I knew it was a bad idea.

Get up, I implored. Get up, get dressed, you just have to sit through church and then you can be done with the outside world for the day.

(The good news is I have been here before and I know these deep draggy feelings of inertia and inability don't last forever. That it's okay to sit with them for a week, or even two. That if the feelings last I know where to turn and how to ask for help because I've crossed that vast divide a time or two before.)

I got up. I got dressed. I got the kids ready. We made it to church.

And the pastor led off with dead baby talk. I kid you not. I just about ran out of there. He was preaching on "hitting bottom" and his jumping off reference was a couple who got a divorce after their baby died from SIDS.

I thought I was going to cry, but I didn't. I thought I was going to walk out, but I didn't. I heard a voice say, you need to hear this, so I sat through the uncomfortable moment and forced myself to listen to the pastor's words.

He talked about how often marriages don't survive child loss, which made me think about the friend who complimented our marriage on Charlotte's birthday last year. I suppose it is some kind of Jesus wrought miracle that we're still walking together and almost celebrating thirteen years married. It has not been easy. I will never claim I have enjoyed being a couple who has lost a child, but staying with each other despite burying Charlotte is some kind of testimony and we can be proud of ourselves for letting Jesus in and asking Him to hold us together.

Nine years after Charlotte was born and died I yelled at my kids a lot on her birthday. I said "sorry, Mama is sad and the sad is coming out as frustration" over and over and over. Next year Harper will be old enough I want to go somewhere with Jonathan - just the two of us - on her birthday. I think that will be better for everyone. 10 is next - and that is a big number. Ten years - a decade! - is a lot of years to live without someone you expected to get to know deeply and well as you watched them grow and change.

I'm not sad really, more exhausted; like I can't believe after all this time there are still feelings and words I can barely stand to express or hear or note. I mean, talk to me this time of year, ask me how I am, and you probably won't notice a thing, or get much information, but if you ask me to write you a letter about how I am feeling and faring you will get an entirely different story. I am not able to express myself well with spoken words, but give me the opportunity to write and I can tell you exactly how it feels to "celebrate" the birth day of a dead child.

It's painful and hard and I am surprised that today there is still anger about the fact that she's gone. I thought the anger had left, but it appears there is still some well below the surface that can be called forth by a well timed sermon.

But even though I am angry and hurting I believe God is good. God is working all the painful circumstances we experience for His purposes and His goal is never to harm the ones He loves. Nine years later I still believe in Him and His goodness. Nine years later I am mostly healed. It's not okay that Charlotte died. I am not over it. I will never be past or over or done with the grief. But most days I can be satisfied with the place where God has asked me to be at this time in my life and the children He has given me to raise and love on Earth.

Happy belated birth day sweet Charlotte girl. You are loved and missed. I see the place in our family where you should be. I wish often that you were here. I imagine who you would be and what you would enjoy. I know you are in a beautiful place, that you lack nothing. That knowledge provides comfort and peace. I hope you know that even though our lives have continued on without you there is still a deep ache when I think about the life I didn't get to live with you. You are so, so missed, sweet girl. Love, Mama

bad attitudes and sibling squabbles

2019-04-12T10:15:00.001-07:00

It's 9:45 on Friday morning and the house is QUIET. Harper is napping, the others are out of the house ... I'm basically alone!

One of the biggest homeschooling challenges for me is the constant presence of people. Quiet time to myself is rare, but being an introvert I crave space and quiet.

I was going to sit and read, but I'm having a terrible time finding a book with content I feel comfortable reading. New fiction is often chock full of things I don't want in my brain. I read a lot of non-fiction, but I can't read just non-fiction because that wears my brain out.

I need to start on my get out and walk goal today. The weather has been so horrible - we have pockets of flooding around town because the skies have been weeping endlessly - but being from here I was born to walk in the rain and not mind. That's the general mindset at least. I'm more of a whiner. And I hate feeling the slightest bit uncomfortable.

The weather is wearing on everyone. The kids have been fighting like mad lately. Any tips on what to do about that? They've always been mostly friendly with each other, but lately there's been a lot of strife. I need to find new strategies to deploy when they begin bickering. Yelling, "Jesus put you in this family! He gave you your siblings! Love one another!" isn't working.

My capacity to stay calm goes up in flames after a long day. Or even a long morning. I'm working on gentle speech - and I do feel I'm yelling less - but when the fighting starts all calm vanishes.

Yesterday the making dinner hour was so stressful I nearly ran away screaming. There are days I want to put dinner on the table and let the family have at it while I eat in a quiet room behind a closed door. Harper broke a glass water bottle I didn't realize was in the baby drawer. And in the midst of a sibling scuffle Ains had a fairly hefty board dropped on her eye (the platform of the helper tower actually) which resulted in copious tears and ice packs. By the time Jon came home from work I was completely overdone and grumpy. Lately each day is something to get through; a test of endurance. I think we'd all fare better if I didn't feel that way. Oh attitudes - they always need improving, don't they?

I'm going to jump off now. Harper just woke and it's not raining so I'm going to walk before I lose my motivation.

5 things I want to do

2019-04-09T21:46:00.000-07:00

A friend snapped a photo of me talking to Harper during swim lessons today.

She sent it to me with an uplifting message about how I'm a great mom. I was like, that's so sweet! But I don't love my hair and profile shots are the worst and I hope no one sees it ...

And then I shared it on Instagram. Because if people look at me and see how much I love my children that's a good great thing.

I read through Girl, Stop Apologizing (which was so-so) recently and Rachel Hollis talks a lot about goals. When I thought about what I really want to accomplish personally I kept coming back to: spend more time on myself.

As I've thought about that more over the last few weeks I've realized there are concrete things I can and want to do for myself.

1. Get my hair cut every 6 weeks. Why do I wait 6 months to get my hair cut? I love having it done!

2. Take care of my skin. I'm in my 30s. I need to find a good skin care regime that's non-toxic and easy. Unless drinking water and washing my face with water is enough. If that's the case: done!

3. Walk at least 3x a week. And I mean really walk. Taking three kids and a dog around the neighborhood raises my heart rate because it's super stressful, but it is not what I would call a productive walk. I'm not going to do yoga or run or swim or bike, but I need to get in shape and I can walk.

4. Learn how to put on makeup. I'll probably wear it twice a year, but knowing how to put it on seems like something I could learn. I have never worn makeup and I can't see myself spending a lot of time on this one, but it's way out of my comfort zone so I'm adding it in. Please tell me there's a super simple way to do this.

5. Stay off sugar. It's spring. I just want to eat everything and cry. We've done really well keeping added cane sugar out of our daily lives. It's been almost a year and I want to stick with it. Finding the motivation when I feel sad is really hard.

5 things - that seems possible! Send all tips and tricks my way. I'm going to need help - especially with that fourth one - and accountability.

Wait - I posted this on Facebook and then realized I missed something huge.

So # 6 - which should be # 1: be consistent about spending time in the Bible. I really, really need to get back in this habit!!

on speaking up

2019-02-28T06:25:00.001-08:00

Yesterday morning I wrote e-mails to state and city representatives while the big kids played in the snow and Harper watched and smacked the sliding glass door.

There is a bill being fast tracked this week regarding vaccines and medical freedom so I wrote a strongly worded e-mail about that to the members of the house health committee.

There is a hearing today and I live in the capital city so I'm trying to get brave and go. I'll have to bring all three kids, which is so difficult, but the wording and purpose of this bill is extremely concerning and vocal opponents need to be present.

After sending off those e-mails I wrote to the city librarian about the changes being made at the library.

The reference desk has been eradicated. Books are being culled at an alarming rate. Shelves are emptying, cut down to half their content.

As an avid reader and educator I'm appalled by the drive to promote popular reading materials (like bestsellers) over a strong core collection and specialized librarians.

It's so easy to get mad and stay mad about issues like this, but I'm finding it healthier to say my piece and give it to God.

He is in control.

I don't have to attempt to control or influence outcomes to make myself feel happy or safe.

Even if this bill passes we will be protected by God and so will our children.

Even if the library collection is reduced I will find a way to get my children books and materials. (I understand this is a privileged statement and that's why I'm fighting for a strong core collection at our library. Everyone should have access to free books.)

I went through a protest all the things phase in high school and early college. My convictions weren't strong, but it was different enough from what the majority of my classmates were doing to capture my attention.

Now my convictions are strong, but my time is limited. I might not be able to attend the hearing, but I can carve out twenty minutes to draft and send an e-mail. And then I can enjoy the rest of my day with the kids knowing I've said something; I haven't stayed quiet.

It's been a process to learn how to trust and live life with open hands, but I'm so glad I don't have to worry or be fearful of the outcome of today's hearing or whatever news tomorrow brings. Praise God for His hand on our lives.

2.19.19

2019-02-19T20:53:00.000-08:00

On Saturday I had a post to write about a bereavement training speaking event and watching Tangled with my family. The first time I watched the movie was after Charlotte died and it was really hard to watch because I wanted my daughter back. Saturday I watched it surrounded by my children and I couldn't believe how much has changed in nine years.

Sunday we attended a small remembrance service for my grandmother followed by a dinner. On Monday I was ready to catch up on housework and laundry and prep for the homeschool week and finally write that post when we got our first call for a Safe Families placement (a non-governmental organization that provides temporary respite care to overwhelmed parents).

There were three young kids who needed a place to stay. Jonathan was home, only one night was needed and my solo time with six kids would be minimal so we said yes.

Now my brain feels tangled.

Guys, it was so intense and overwhelming.

My emotions were at the tip- top after Saturday and Sunday's events and then we were hit with that placement and we were running our feet off with six kids 7 and under.

Last night I slept on a mattress in Harper's room with three young kids in cribs and on mattresses all around me. We couldn't settle them any other way so I rocked the youngest and began singing. The older two knew 'Jesus Loves the Little Children' and 'Jesus Loves Me.' We sang round after round as they tried to sleep in unfamiliar surroundings.

Eventually they all slept. I got up a couple times during the night for back pats and soothing words, but for most of the night they slept.

There is so much pain in this world, but there's so much joy too. There's the pain of Charlotte's death and the joy of my living children. There's the sorrow of my grandmother's death and the joy of knowing she's in heaven. There's the sadness of broken families and the joy that comes in the dark when everything feels scary but little voices still sing about the love of Jesus. My hope is that even if they don't know Him they know His love and felt it in our home.

This morning I prayed, out loud, Jesus be near! as I felt overwhelmed and under prepared. He was. He is. I'm so thankful He loves us.

cookies, jeggings, dreams

2019-02-14T19:46:00.000-08:00

When Jon called at 7:15 this morning I thought, "He's going to surprise me with a day away!!!!!" completely ignoring the fact that I have a baby who has never taken a bottle in her life on my hands.

I was quickly brought back to reality when he asked if I'd seen his prison access badge on the dresser.

Oh. Not a day away. Reality and more reality. I still had to feed the kids and take them to swimming lessons and stay awake all day. The bright spot in the mundane is that tomorrow Ainsleigh doesn't have preschool so we can stay home all day!

I have a commitment on Saturday and Sunday this weekend. I keep praying, "Lord, help me not be an introverted monster Sunday evening when I hit the being with people wall."

I've also taken up sugar again for a couple days because it's Valentine's Day, I wanted sugar cookies and my Saturday engagement involves speaking about Charlotte.

I haven't done that in a long time. I'm hoping I manage more than, "I'm so tired ..." I bought these high waisted jeggings at Target that should help see me through. I was so mad that I couldn't find the leggings I wanted in my size, but there were oodles of jeggings. I came home, pulled them on and up to my neck and bam! jeggings convert.

This winter I am continually trying to find clothes I can wear as pajamas and clothing. Jeggings to bed followed by skirt over jeggings in the morning equals a semi-put together mama who has put forth minimal effort.

I hear you can wear jeggings or leggings as pants, but I'm not there yet. I'm cold all. the. time. I need layers between me and the world.

We put the kids to bed early so we can watch a movie. I made a Valentine's Day treasure hunt for the kids and we had a good dinner together followed by a board game, but when Jon suggested early to bed for the big kids I said, Yes! Go, children! I love you, but go!

It's not a day away, but it is a small window of hopefully uninterrupted time. I'm going to enjoy it - and my cookies too.

when you can't fix it

2019-02-06T20:01:00.001-08:00

Ainsleigh had a field trip today. My attitude was not great. It hasn't been great for a few days. We're reading the Little House series right now and I'm realizing I would've died. I hate the cold. I don't have the wherewithal to make it through a long winter.

Why is February so hard? Every year I'm like, oh yeah, I hate you. You are a terrible month.

I had to do shuffling and hustling to make the morning work because Ainsleigh was determined to have me go with her on the field trip, which was to a pizza place.

We toured the kitchens, stood in the walk-in refrigerator, toured the blacklight mini-golf course, which was dark and full of skeletons - super fun with a group of preschoolers- and then ate pizza, which Ainsleigh doesn't eat. And then Ainsleigh cried (more on that in a minute) and we left early.

It was the lamest field trip. I can usually get into things and make them educational and find the fun, but this was just silly.

When I first saw the field trip slip I said, "Oh great, a food one. "

The teacher overheard and said, "But we did it with Bennett!"

Yes, we sent a pizza he could eat, and it was all fine, but the work of doing that and figuring out how to keep it warm is so difficult and annoying.

Lately the kids haven't wanted pizza. When Jon and I get it for things like the Super Bowl the kids have us make something for them that they love like chips and cheese with a smoothie.

Days before the field trip I asked Ainsleigh if she wanted Jon to make her a pizza to try. It's been a long time since we've attempted one and I thought she might like it. She said no, we agreed on the special foods she would take, all was well.

Until she sat down with all of her friends and didn't have pizza.

I felt horrible.

She cried.

We left.

Truth is, she could probably have pizza, but she's been wheat and cow dairy free her whole life. We also don't let her have sugar because it gives her unpleasant symptoms and most commercial pizza sauces have sugar.

Much of our current diet was forced on us by Bennett's food allergies, but we do make some of our decisions based on health.

That's why Jon and I cut cane sugar out. That's why we don't eat pasta. That's why we eat grass fed cheese and butter. That's why we don't drink cow milk.

If we want something like pizza we have it, but we don't let the kids because we're pretty sure it would make Bennett sick and we want them to have the best nutritional start in life possible. Most of the time we make sure they have something they really enjoy eating if we're treating ourselves to pizza or something like that. I didn't eat pizza today because I didn't want Ainsleigh to feel left out and we had a cheat day Sunday.

It didn't work. She still felt left out.

As we were driving home all I wanted to do was stop somewhere and buy her something. I didn't want to get her a food treat, but I wanted to erase her tears with a small trinket or a coloring book or a new shirt.

I clearly heard a voice telling me to keep driving, to resist the urge to use money to ease her pain.

As we drove over the bridge I asked Ainsleigh, "Do you want to see Grandad and Sasa?" (My in-laws were at the house watching the other kids.)

She smiled and nodded and I again heard the voice, "Let people be her comfort."

Not food.

Not material goods.

People who love her and will hug her and chase the tears away.

When Jon got home and asked Ainsleigh how the field trip was she said it was wonderful!

As the kids danced to music in the living room after dinner I unloaded the full story, including my feelings of sadness and frustration. He reminded me that I gave her the opportunity to have what everyone else was having- well a modified version - but she refused.

I said she obviously didn't know how it would feel until she was sitting there, but I don't know if that's true.

We're the family with snacks in our bags. We're the ones who say no thank you when cake is passed at parties. We're the ones who have treats for the kids in our pockets.

I have no idea what life will look like for them in five or ten years. I can't imagine them leaving the house and following our food rules. Probably they won't. Hopefully they don't have to. (We're entering another healing phase with Bennett. It's hard, but we've seen a lot of progress so we're all willing to keep going.)

I don't know what they'll eat when they leave our home, but I hope they'll have enough experience to know what fixes the hard days: prayer, love, hugs, people who know you and want the best for you. There's nothing wrong with buying something when you feel sad, or eating a cookie because you had a bad day, but I don't want that to be their first response. Find a friend, then get a cookie together.

Yesterday I lost my mind at the library with the kids and wanted to buy cookies at the store afterwards. I passed the section twice, but went home without them because the kids were watching. They knew I was frustrated and I didn't want them to see me put something I told them I'm only eating on special occasions in the cart because I was having a bad day. Plus they can't have them and they probably really wanted a cookie because mama was cranky. Again.

I have no idea if we're doing the right thing, but we are trying so hard. I hope the kids know how much we love them.

anxiety: what it's like

2019-01-28T07:36:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I woke up thirty minutes late. Usually I can wake up when I want to without an alarm clock, but yesterday that didn't work out for me.

As I was rallying the troops to get ready for our big day in Portland (we were going to a play) Jon said, "The dog was in and out all night. I don't know what's going on with her."

My first - unvoiced - thought? The dog senses that the big earthquake is coming. We're all going to die.

You can't live in Oregon and not know about "the big one." A big earthquake off the coast will happen someday. We are woefully under prepared. Our houses, even this far inland, may collapse. We will be isolated and unable to access food for weeks. Etc. Etc. It's doomsday stuff.

And one article I read said pets will likely sense it first - like a three minute warning - so if your dog is restless maybe pay attention.

So the dog is restless means ...

WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE.

We left the house on time somehow and drove to my parents to drop off Harper. As Jonathan drove North on I-5 I could sense my anxiety was trying to wrest control of my brain. I was starting to get spacey and having a hard time focusing.

I looked out the window and asked myself: what is the core? Is there a root? Can you find the source?

Tracing the anxiety to its start point is one of the most valuable things I learned in therapy.

Within seconds I thought, it's scary to leave Harper.

Ah. There it is.

That's why a restless dog had me fearing the end of days. Even though I read that article I don't think about it every time the dog acts a little odd. That would be exhausting.

Then I prayed: Lord, we gave the older kids these season tickets so we could spend quality time with them. I miss them. This year has been full of new baby hustle and I want to enjoy the big kids today. Please be with me. Please don't let the fear win.

We dropped off Harper, went to the play, and had a great time. My mind was clear and I loved our time together. Harper was absolutely fine with my parents and sister.

There wasn't an earthquake. Nobody died.

Thank you, Jesus.

Sometimes getting to the core is only the first step. If doing that isn't enough to calm my anxiety I use breathing techniques. And if that's not enough I use a guided meditation, but I haven't needed step three in a long time.

Using these techniques I haven't had a panic attack in .... a long time. I'm not even sure how long it's been. I'm not suggesting this will work for you or someone you know who has anxiety. This is how I live with an anxiety disorder. This is what's working for me.

deep end

2019-01-24T15:51:00.000-08:00

The kids are taking swimming lessons right now. Their class is them- B and Ains - and a 3-year-old girl. The girl is bananas. Pull B off the side of the pool, yank Ainsleigh's hair, splash water in their eyes bananas.

We've had a lot of conversations about how little kids don't always know how to make friends appropriately. We've also talked about not hitting or splashing back and saying, I don't like that, when she starts in.

The lessons are an exercise in fortitude for all of us. I have stepped in a couple times when the teacher was busy in the water. The mom will sometimes say something, but is usually on her phone and distracted. It's a good opportunity for all us to show grace and bite our tongues. It's so hard to learn how to do that isn't it?

The kids have two lessons left, but I think we're going to sign up for another session because B's beloved parkour gym closed. Two things B loved, but only got to do for a short time- parkour and choir - have ended and we're trying to figure out what to do now. I told him he's learning a hard lesson right now, but he's had a remarkably good attitude.

7-year-old boy energy is a lot to have around the house day in and day out so I'm trying to find outlets without spending a lot of money. It's hard since it's winter right now and really hard to get out with the baby - who is almost walking! I also struggle with getting outside with the kids. It's a goal, always, but rarely happens.

koalas at 3 am

2019-01-15T20:01:00.000-08:00

I've learned so much about koalas this week my brain is oozing koala facts. Jonathan comes home from work and I'm like, "Did you know ...!!"

(I'm trying to decide if this is better or worse than the days when my big end of the day news was how many diapers I changed, and of that number how many were blowouts.)

In the last few days I've also learned the origins of the word agony and the lineage of the Greek gods and goddesses. And as if that wasn't enough I'm mastering the two-fives and eights trick in math as well as trying to remember what a vertex is.

All on 2.5 hours of sleep.

Over the last 5 days.

Okay, that's an exaggeration.

But I haven't slept much lately thanks to Miss Harper. And then last night when I finally got her settled I heard Ainsleigh "reading" a book in the living room.

At 3 am.

What's up with this girl and her random 3 am parties? There's no consistency, or pattern, she just gets up at 3 am sometimes.

I once found her doing a craft at the table. Like a serious one. There were supplies everywhere! When I asked her what was happening she of course said she was making me something.

(Yes, we have an okay to wake up light. No, we are not using it right now. Yes, I need to do something about that.)

Last night - well, early this morning - I wanted to cry and ask how I'm supposed to teach about koalas and symmetry and the Greeks when I'm hardly sleeping enough to string together basic sentences, but I opted for snapping, Go. to. bed. now.

Every time I get frustrated about how hard it is to do the school thing and the baby thing and the life thing Jonathan reminds me this was not my plan. I didn't expect to have a new baby when I checked the I'll homeschool box. (He also said when I got pregnant with Harper it broke my brain because all of my plans were ruined and I'm just now recovering, but that's another post for a different day.)

But here's the thing: if we scoot the baby aside for a moment, aren't there still challenges? The baby is not the only hard thing, she's just the loudest and most draining right now.

Last night - before the baby waking and the 3 am Ainsleigh in the living room surprise - I was praying about what I'm supposed to be learning from the current whirlwind I'm standing in.

What are you trying to teach me, Lord? I asked.

And He answered, dependence.

Oh. Well. That was super clear.

I'll work on that.

I'll try to be less frantic.

I'll strive to remember what's important.

Thank you for answering. That was very direct and obvious and I know I've been given that answer a handful - or twenty - times, but I might need to ask again.

Thank you for this family and that I get to teach my kids. And thank you for koalas. They really are fascinating creatures.

renovate

2019-01-10T19:51:00.003-08:00

On Christmas Eve Jonathan's brother said, "I'm running out of projects to do on the house. I need to come up with something to do."

"Oh, will you move?" I asked.

"Pull a Rodman?" he asked with a smile. "No, probably not."

Jonathan's parents built or massively renovated every house they lived in. Often they moved before renovations were complete. The house they're living in now is beautifully redone, but every time Jonathan tells me the kitchen is on the opposite side of the house, clean moved across the whole darn space, my brain twitches.

I lived in one house most of my life - 5 on up - and when my parents sold it in my early 20s there was a long list of needed repairs. Home repairs were not our thing, much less gut jobs and moving kitchens.

Last night as I was putting away dinner Jonathan said, "Babe! I found a project house."

Me, looking around the very unfinished kitchen I was standing in, "This is a project house."

"No," Jonathan replied, "that is a real project house."

Oh mercy me, he's about to pull a Rodman!! I thought. The very notion striking fear in my heart.

As I finished with the dishes he found the house online and called me over to the desk. There's no interior pictures of course, but the exterior ...

"Honey," I said. "The roof."

"Yeah, I know," he said with a dismissive wave. "It needs redone. There's tarps and stuff. But the real question is, is there water damage inside?"

"If you call our realtor for life (we were gifted a knife and cutting board set with this engraving on both from him so that's what we call him) I'll look at it."

I haven't heard any more about the project house, but I also haven't seen much of Jonathan today so who knows what's brewing.

I love looking at houses, but this one ... the exterior shots are not promising. I think this house was my limit: no working heat, bathrooms needed redone, kitchen too, but the place was livable. I'm not sure I want to take on another gone to pieces ranch house. We'll see what happens. At least being a Rodman is never boring!

that's not what I meant

2019-01-09T21:48:00.000-08:00

So yesterday when I said we're busy and I need a stay at home day and it's all so stressful ...

I did not mean B needed to get slammed with another virus.

We spent our afternoon and evening at home, which was not the original plan!!

And B slept from 4-7 pm on the couch, which means I have a 10 month old sleeping in my arms and a 7-year-old next to me reading Plants vs Zombies.

Jonathan's at a friend's house. I don't mind him hanging out with friends, but I feel like he enjoys the experience more. He goes and he's gone until he comes home. When I go I leave half my brain with the kids.

Is the baby crying? Does she need me? Are the big kids listening? Is the baby starving because I'm her primary food source? Is everyone fine for two hours without me?!

Of course they are, but I can't convince my brain so it returns to the kids over and over as I try to relax and enjoy my time away.

I'm going to try to convince B to go back to sleep,, but first - what am I thankful for today?

We knocked out a lot of school work even though B wasn't feeling well.

So far everyone else is on healthy ground.

B didn't puke in the car today despite feeling very unwell in the preschool pick up line.

My mother-in-law can help me tomorrow so only one kiddo will miss swimming lessons.

I have three babies safe and nearby, tucked in, sleeping, or close to sleep. Everyone is fed and warm.

That's quite a lot of goodness despite the illness curve ball today threw at me.

finding space

2019-01-08T10:48:00.000-08:00

One day and change back into the preschool / homeschool / routine grind and I'm hair on fire stressed to the max.

I didn't realize how much stress the daily routine put on my shoulders until we had winter break and our days were slower.

Can I get a cookie, a muffin, a donut and a baby who naps?

Would that actually help?

Harper is cutting two teeth and has decided the best way to deal with it is to shriek at the top of her lungs unless I'm holding her.

That seems reasonable. I might join her.

I'm trying to fit so many things in so few hours. I was so grateful Ainsleigh's home visit this morning was cancelled I could've cried. Having that extra hour to homeschool before swim lessons was vital.

We just found out B's parkour gym is closing and won't be refunding the classes we've paid for so we're trying to cram in 3-4 classes a week this month on top of everything else.

I thought I was really good at keeping our schedule open and loose, but this month we're running, running, running.

I need at least one stay at home day a week to maintain sanity and peace. Unfortunately those days are in short supply this month.

I can't believe how much patience I lost when we resumed our normal schedule! I'm trying to teach and Harper is screaming and Ains needs scissors and B is trying to focus but its madness!

This is a very challenging parenting season. But then, every parenting season is challenging.

I'm writing this pool side while B and Ains have lessons and Harper grabs a car seat nap. This is my moment to breathe - five quiet minutes in a cacophonous room while I try not to buy a muffin at the cafe.

how to quantify a life

2019-01-05T21:08:00.000-08:00

Yesterday morning I walked through Charlotte's story. I dug through old files, I found the book I wrote, I sat with chapters I'd long given up on.

I was glad Jonathan had the kids out running errands with him as I stared at words I wrote years ago and then typed them out once more, editing as I went. I had to stand up and take breaks. Shake my hands out. Make tea. Stretch - right leg back, left leg straight, fingers brushing the floor.

There was purpose in my work. There was a reason to revisit her story, but it still made me sad.

I want to save the person I'm writing about from what's coming, but then I remember it's me.

If I hadn't been there I wouldn't be here.

I'm so glad God is in charge because there's so much I don't understand.

Then this morning, a phone call.

My grandmother died.

We knew it was coming, but were hoping for a little more time.

My parents are traveling and so the timing is not ideal.

It's strange, being 35, communicating and working with my siblings and realizing, Hey, we're the adults. We're in charge here.

When did that happen?

I am at a potential beginning, but my grandmother has reached the end. I'm glad I thought to get quiet and ask questions our last few visits. I still don't know enough about her, but I know far more than I did a year ago.

Life is an endless cycle of beginnings and endings. It's what we do in the middle that matters. The stories we tell. The times we listen. The ordinary days that become extraordinary because we choose to engage.

I always want to pull meaning from Charlotte's life. She mattered because, she existed because ...

I think we do that with every life. With my grandmother it's easy, but with my baby girl how can I find meaning in the frantic hours she was here?

Maybe it's in the telling. Maybe it's in the pages on the table this morning and what's come after. Maybe it's one more thing God knows and I don't.

Even as I struggle to quantify a life - well two really - I praise God.

Thank you for grandparents who know you. Thank you for heaven. Thank you for calling your servant home. She was weary.

Thank you for a sleeping baby in my arms on a stormy night after a long day.

Thank you for beginnings and endings. Thank you for authoring our days and creating our families.

injury

2019-01-02T20:23:00.000-08:00

I shut the back door of the van on Harper's head today. It was a terrible confluence of events. She was in the wrap - sleeping I thought - and I was tossing a bag in the back of the van while the kids waited on the sidewalk. There's a tiny parking lot between a Goodwill and an independent bookstore a few minutes from our house. We park there, go to both stores, and call it a fun morning out. After Goodwill, but before the bookstore, I put the bag in, Harper threw her head back just as I was closing the hatch, and BAM! baby head meets unforgiving door.

Harper cried for a couple minutes, then tucked in and went to sleep. Of course I thought she had a massive concussion. Especially when she transferred to her car seat and continued sleeping all the way home and then in her car seat in the front hallway for fifteen minutes. I called Jonathan, but he doesn't have a job where he can answer the phone often, so I prayed, Lord, if she is seriously injured please make it obvious.

When she woke she was her normal Harper self. There was clearly nothing wrong aside from the large bump on the top of her head. She was in fine form all afternoon, full of jazz with a severe case of the giggles. I felt like the Lord was saying, I'm going to give you enough reassurance to knock you sideways.

Thank you, Jesus.

A few nights ago I received a message: There's been a stillbirth ...

Oh Lord have mercy. Too many little ones too soon lately.

Now that's an injury. A deep wound that will never fully heal. When I'm asked what to do, the words that should be said, the phrases that should not be uttered, the best way to walk alongside I wish it was as simple as Harper's injury and recovery:

Watch for a little while. Pray for reassurance. Hopefully there will be laughter soon.

Instead my advice goes something like this:

They - the parents - are in this for life in a very different way than they expected. You can't fix it. The healing will be slow and agonizing. There will be times when a plateau, a place of rest, will be achieved. Valleys will follow. Deep, dark valleys. Grief is not linear. It is work.

If you have children think about what they need when they are sad. Comfort. Kindness. Compassion. Heap those things on the grieving. Bring them warm food, hot water bottles, heating pads, blankets. Draw baths, make tea, leave nourishing soup warming on the stove so all they have to do is fill a bowl.

Acknowledge the missing. Let the birth story spill out of the mother and fill the room. Let her have a moment where she gets to participate in the tradition of telling how she became a mother through birth even though hers was a sorrowful one. Remember that sorrow can also contain joy; it is a complicated vessel. Ask the father what he was most looking forward to doing with his child. Fathers are action. They are teachers and let me show you-ers. They may not miss the newborn, but they are aching for other imagined experiences now lost.

I don't know why some babies don't stay. I feel deeply that they should. I believe that God made them and they are ultimately His, but we are supposed to have them for a time and when that time is narrowed to two hours from expected years the pain is white hot and knife sharp.

The helplessness that sits on those who attend the wounded is crippling. So they reach out. They ask what to do, where to turn, how to help. I give the best answers I can. Eight years later I remember the thoughtless comments and wide eyed stares when I told people what happened, but louder than the thoughtless comments is the silence of those who sat quietly with me. They didn't try to fix it. They didn't hurry me along. They didn't admonish me to get over my loss. They let me be still until the grief lifted enough for me to move.

If you're walking with someone who is hurting - be still. Listen. Rest often.

To everyone who asks, what do I do?

Thank you. Your willingness is a light in the darkness.

top (30!!) books of 2018

2018-12-30T21:44:00.001-08:00

It wasn't easy. I didn't think I was going to make my goal. I read less than last year. But 150 books is still a whole lotta books!

In 2017 I read 185 books. So birthing a baby, caring for the sweet one, homeschooling a first grader and keeping up on life in general equals 35 fewer books read. It's like a complicated math problem:

If Angela can read x amount of pages in x amount of hours, but has a new baby and is teaching one child first grade and running a household how many fewer books will she read in 2018?

The answer is .......

35!!

Yes, I read fast. Yes, I don't watch much TV.

But even if you only read one book this year, well done. Next year, aim for two. Reading is good for you and your kids need to see you off your phone and away from the TV with printed material in your hands. (Yes you can read on a screen, but why?)

Since 2016 I've tracked my reading in a little blue and white striped notebook. If I love a title it gets an asterisk next to it. Here's the ones I marked this year:

* Reading With Patrick: A Teacher, a Student, and a Life-Changing Friendship by Michelle Kuo: memoir, education, reading

* It's All a Game: The History of Board Games from Monopoly to Settlers of Catan by Tristan Donovan: random, fascinating

* The History of Bees by Maja Lunde: don't let the bees die, gloomy

* The Glass Town Game by Catherynne M. Valente: middle reader, Europe, history, fantasy

* Rethinking School: How to Take Charge of Your Child's Education by Susan Wise Bauer: education, homeschool, parenting, very important

* Little Soldiers: An American Boy, A Chinese School, and the Global Race to Achieve by Lenora Chu: parenting, education, America, China, unsettling

* Modern Loss: Candid Conversations About Grief by Rebecca Soffer and Gabrielle Birkner: grief, loss, compassion, important

* Mommy Burnout by Dr. Sheryl G Ziegler.: my life, parenting, self-help

* Montaigne in Barn Boots: an Amateur Ambles Through Philosophy by Michael Perry: memoir, philosophy, lit-crit, funny

* Achtung Baby: An American Mom on the German Art of Raising Self-Reliant Children by Sara Zaske: parenting, Europe, Germany, America, no more helicopters

* Confessions of a Mediocre Widow by Catherine Tidd: memoir, grief, loss, funny

* The Penderwicks at Last by Jeanne Birdsall: children's lit, series, love

* I Will Always Write Back: How One Letter Changed Two Lives by Caitlin Alifirenka and Martin Ganda : non-fiction, memoir, America, Africa, letters

* How to Walk Away by Katherine Center: quick, light, hello, beach

* The Lost for Words Bookshop by Stephanie Butland: books, bookstore, bibliophile

* I'll Push You: A Journey of 500 miles, Two Best Friends, and One Wheelchair by Patrick Gray and Justin Skeesuck: memoir, travel, Europe, Spain, inspirational, overachievers

* Dear Mrs. Bird by AJ Pearce: WWII, Europe, London, entertaining (perfect for Guernsey fans)

* Girl, Wash Your Face by Rachel Hollis: motivational, self-help, get happy

* One Beautiful Dream by Jennifer Fulwiler: hilarious, real life, memoir, so many kids

* The Good Neighbor by Maxwell King: biography, Mister Rogers, education, child development, fascinating

* The Read-Aloud Family by Sarah Mackenzie: education, reading, homeschool

* Unseen: The Gift of Being Hidden in a World That Loves to be Noticed by Sara Hagerty: truth, wisdom

* Somebody I Used to Know by Wendy Mitchell: memoir, Alzheimer's, front lines, medicine

* Lucy Castor Finds Her Sparkle by Natasha Lowe: children's lit, sweet, magical, laughed out loud

* Henry and the Chalk Dragon by Jennifer Trafton: children's lit, read-aloud, art, bravery, friendship, fantasy, excellent message

* The Vanderbeekers and the Hidden Garden by Karina Yan Glaser: middle reader, big family, kindness, New York, series

* Educated by Tara Westover: memoir, religion, survivalists, abuse, determination, growth, incredible, still recovering

* Three Things About Elsie by Joanna Cannon: unreliable narrator, mystery, memory care, care home,friendship

*Once Upon a River by Diane Setterfield: compelling, lyrical, mystery, fabulous storytelling

*The Library Book by Susan Orlean: history, fire, mystery, LA, libraries, books, bibliophile, fascinating

Wow!! That's a big list! Could I narrow it down to 10? Probably not. If I add in the books I read to the kids I could easily list another 30.

What's my 2019 goal? I think I'll stick with 150 and see how I do!

tell me it's normal (on learning to let go)

2018-12-27T20:07:00.000-08:00

Harper had a cranial-sacral therapy appointment this morning. Typically newborns benefit the most from CST, but Harper has a good sized lump on the back of her head her doctor wanted checked.

A lump. On her head.

That'll put the fear in you.

It's been months and she hasn't died or shown any other symptoms so the fear hasn't been too overwhelming, but there was a need to know if I should put the worry into overdrive.

Every time I take one of my children to the doctor I want to be told their symptoms are normal and they'll live.

If God would allow me to see into the future I would only want to know my kids would out live me. I don't care about anything else. If I knew the world would go in the expected order for my three living children I could release at least 94% of the fear and anxiety that rushed in when Charlotte died and I felt to my core the sudden shock of knowing a river can unexpectedly run backwards.

Harper is fine. She has a lumpy bumpy head that's a bit tight and tense, but normal. Nothing concerning or worrisome, thank you Jesus.

Had this scenario happened with B it would've flattened me. I had fewer inner resources when he was a baby and the only mothering experience I had was short, harrowing and traumatic. As our first rainbow baby his (potentially unfair) lot in life is to unknowingly find the balance between reassuring me he will live and showing me it's natural for him to grow up and - slowly - away.

This fall B had the opportunity to sing with the children's choir at church. He loved it. The practices and events were a chance for me to learn to let him manage his food choices without my presence.

On Sunday he sang in first service then I walked him to the kitchen below the sanctuary so he could have a snack before singing in second service. I stayed so I could give him food from my bag in addition to what was on offer. The line was moving slow and time was short so I jumped in to hand out plates and hustle the kids along. When it was B's turn I reached out to the fruit plate and said, "Here, grapes and apples. " He put the grapes back. "Mom, I can't have those."

Right. Of course. I know that. I've known that for years, but I forgot. I put the food from my bag on his plate and walked away. He was fine. He didn't need me. He knows what he can and can't eat.

The stretching and pulling, the back and forth of great dependency and slow growth into independence is what makes parents want to stop time.

From boy in the NICU to boy on stage in seven years. From baby on my lap with a lump on her head to .... who knows. But I have to believe if I'm patient I'll know. I have to trust they'll live - all 3 of them - so that my fear doesn't halt their steps away from me.

the day after / more flu

2018-12-26T15:50:00.001-08:00

There is so much laundry on my bed you can't actually see the bed. Instead of folding it I made the kids have a quiet time while I ate my last Christmas treat - Panera cinnamon roll - with a hot cup of tea.

Taking a moment to sit and enjoy food is one thing I've gleaned from cutting cane sugar from our daily diets. I don't want to stand at the counter eating chocolate bars because my kids stress me out. I want to find meaning in food and have treats truly be special. It's a really hard, slow learning process.

This morning we ran a ton of errands - bank, library, three grocery stores (including Costco). Then I got an incoming round 2 text from Jon. Are you kidding me?! He's currently sleeping off his second flu bout on the couch - still can't see the bed - while I follow the kids around and remind them to wash their hands every five seconds. I will cry if we all get it a second time.

Our Christmas was good. We went the minimal presents / big experience route for the kids. We got them season tickets to the children's theater in Portland. I love giving them gifts, but I think going to plays together will mean so much more.

I get the lazy wife award. I put the rain jacket Jon bought for himself under the tree in its shipping package. I didn't even wrap it. I have got to get more sleep.

We're playing games and being lazy and enjoying a bit of calm without activities. I have five books to get through if I'm going to make my 2018 reading goal, but I really need to let that dream go. There's too much laundry to fold.

how are we doing?

2018-12-23T19:59:00.000-08:00

By we I mean all of us - the one writing, the ones reading.

We're less than two days from Christmas. Everything is busy. The lists are so long.

We made it through Bennett's choir weekend at church. He did so well and had a great time. I thought that would take a huge load off, but I'm still struggling.

Our holidays are casual, but I'm still full of clean, wrap, snip, snap energy that is wiping out everyone around me. I'm not even trying to do that much. With the flu knocking us out followed by Jonathan's minor surgery I figure just getting the basics done is enough. But the basics are hard to accomplish with a clingy baby and I'm so grumpy.

What is with that? I can read all the - just be calm, give them your joyful presence, they will remember your love and serenity more than traditions - advice posts and articles, but I can't seem to internalize it. I'm still on edge and snippy snappy.

Are you feeling it too?

Maybe it's the happy family gathering together commercial propaganda that's getting to you. We all know the happy family depictions are rarely true. There's always a lot more around the table than smiling faces. If we manage to get to a place of mostly happy faces around the table, whether it be friends or family or a mix, let's celebrate that. You aren't always born to the people who love you the most. Sometimes you have to create your family to feel your best and most loved.

Maybe it's grief. Someone you expected to see across the table won't be there. For some there might be time to get them back to the table. For those who have buried a loved one this year it can feel like there's little hope and so much sorrow in knowing that place will be forever empty. I know so well the deep ache of looking at a table that would seem full to anyone giving it a casual glance and noticing who is missing. The gaping space where one more could be is obvious only to me.

Two gorgeous Christmas dresses instead of three. Three names to write on gift tags instead of four. Shoot, that one surprises me every year.

I'll never write Charlotte on a gift tag. It's so hard to accept.

The empty stocking. The missing pile of gifts. What would she love this year? She'd be 8. What would that be like?

I nearly cried tonight while reading Ainsleigh Christmas stories. The Spirit of Christmas by Nancy Tillman always gets me:

"And so then, my darling, wherever you roam, may you always be safe ... may you always come home."

One of mine is HOME, but I selfishly wish she was home. Especially at Christmas.

What are you longing for this Christmas? Who is missing? What is missing?

let me tell you a funny story

2018-12-21T20:03:00.002-08:00

I'm writing this from the rocker in the baby's room, which is usually where I am this time of night.

I've been writing more because I've decided to just do that: write. No pictures. Minimal effort. No attempts to have a curated blog. Just my words usually written on my phone while holding the baby or standing in the kitchen waiting on dinner to finish in the oven.

Are you ready for the funny story?

After days of broth, smoothies and rice I got bold and served tacos for dinner. B and I are regretting that decision as our bellies ache and poor Jonathan has the belly ache plus minor surgery recovery.

Oh yeah, he had minor surgery scheduled the day after getting over the flu.

We are having so much fun here.

B is scheduled to perform at church with the choir Saturday and Sunday and I'm just like, "Jesus, do You want us there? We're going to need major improvements ASAP over here if the answer is yes."

Just before coming in to soothe Harper, who had quite the belly upset yesterday and is getting in two top teeth (although she still has only one on the bottom. Please explain that to me.) I told a moaning B, "I think we just need to go to sleep and pray we feel better tomorrow."

Also the kitchen sink backed up because we need new plumbing, which will happen when Jonathan gets back to the remodel, but right now that looks like it will happen the 14th of Never.

Whew - what a lead up to Christmas. Do you think Satan is trying to distract us? Do you think all the focus and awe of the season makes him itchy and cranky so he tries to trip us up?

For a few minutes today I felt the joy of the season as the kids and I ran much needed errands and listened to Christmas songs. The rest of the day I've been cranky and overwhelmed.

I put Harper to bed, settled the big kids, checked on Jonathan, then circled back to Harper who woke up screaming after an hour. It's time to run the circuit again. If Miss Harper will consent to being set down.

Praying for you as you settle your house down for the night.

And yes, I know, this really wasn't a funny story.

As B often says, "She didn't mean it like that! She's being sarcastic!"

supermom

2018-12-20T08:43:00.001-08:00

Jonathan awarded me the title yesterday, but I might have lost it at 6 a.m. this morning when I complained loudly about my lack of sleep while folding laundry.

Jonathan came home from work yesterday and went for the best flu position: the flat on the bathroom floor miserable moaning heap.

"This is so bad! I don't know how you did this!" he called out. "You're Supermom!!"

Christmas is in 5 days and I'm not sure whose presents are under which pile of dirty laundry in our bedroom, but I made it through a morning with 3 sick kids and a terrible flu so I'll take the title.

B can't seem to get his feet under him. He's back asleep after an hour of floor moaning this morning - he gets it from his dad.

Ainsleigh was the least affected and is now the most bored. She got up at 4:15 this morning and I marched out to the living room with the baby I'd been trying to settle since 3:30 am and said, "Go. back. to. bed. now."

That worked until 6 am, which is when the mama muttering and angry laundry folding began.

We're definitely not going to make Harper's appointment today, so I'm going to have to set that anxiety aside and enjoy the holiday.

Harper's first Christmas! Sometimes I forget how exciting that is because I am so worn out. At Harper's nine month well check at the beginning of the month her doctor said, "Are you so excited for Christmas?!"

I responded, "I'm tired."

That is all I could come up with.

But Jonathan thinks I'm Supermom and after coming home ill from work and sleeping on the couch all night he jumped in and began folding laundry with me so I think he's Super too.

There have been times this last year when I've lost sight of how well we work together asa team, but then we all get the flu the week before Christmas and the team rises. It's been a really hard year. Really hard. Maybe we needed to lie flat for a while to reorient our priorities and be reminded of how well we can work together when we're going in the same direction.