I have had a good day...well most of my family could claim this as a good day for themselves. Rebecca called me last night saying she was nervous...she was going to talk to the detective in charge of the case against my mother and my brother. She felt guilty for not being loyal to her mother and her brother. She was afraid of getting sick during the interview. She was a mess. We talked about what would happen during this interview. I recalled what questions he had asked me so she could feel a little more prepared. I told her what made me call social services four and a half years ago. I knew what was going on in that house even though I hadn't spoken to any of them in 5 months...I felt a heaviness on me, a burden, to tell the truth. I had to get it out...like a moral obligation to stop something bad from happening. I had a responsibility to help those who couldn't help themselves...they were counting on me. I knew I could never face them 10 to 20 years down the road when they came to me and asked why I hadn't done anything to save them. What would I say...what would have been the truth by then, that I was too scared and too selfish to face the fear of my mother...even the fear that I would lose them forever. It was clear...it was the right thing to do. It almost felt easy to hold my fears and still know that the right would...well that it would just work out. In love I let them all go knowing somehow God was at hand and was going to clean up the mess. I told Rebecca that after she did what she could she would feel great. It would be a burden lifted and she'd feel lighter. She wouldn't have to hold onto the pain anymore. We could all rest in knowing my mother could not take in any more children and Preston would never be allowed to harm another child...ever! It would end with them and we could all move on from there. I told her to do it for herself knowing that someday she could rejoice in knowing she had stopped anyone else from being abused.
She sent me a text this morning thanking me for our talk and saying that she slept very well. She hadn't been feeling sick all morning although she was still nervous. I asked her to call me after she was done at the police station. When we finally spoke she sounded so...refreshed! She even said herself that she had done a good job. I laughed! She felt great! She said that the detective could see a difference in her because she was smiling now. He asked her the things I had prepared her for but then she said she just started spilling out other stuff. She had been afraid that she would clam up and not remember anything...that isn't what happened! She opened up and felt so much better. She was even excited and was so thankful she had gotten it all out. I told her I was so very proud of her. Just three months ago she called me one afternoon...in secret afraid she would get in trouble. Now here she was talking to the police about what she had endured. Amazing! She is looking at the future possibility of facing my brother in court and having to talk about what he did to her. I try to help her take it one day at a time. We can work on that over the next few months.
She is opposed to counseling. Boy, does that sound familiar. She told me that while she was in foster care she would have to go to these places and play with toys or draw. The people there would ask her why she was drawing what she drew and why she played with dolls or whatever else. they were trying to get her to open up but she shut down instead. She said it was because she still wanted to go home. I think it was just easier and felt safer to keep it all to herself. I always opposed counseling and resented those who asked me to go because that was for "crazy people". How dare someone say that to me. Why couldn't people just leave me alone...stay away from me if they didn't like what they saw in me. I was so offended and every time someone suggested counseling another brick went into the wall between me and the world! In the end I had to be "tricked" into going! I don't know what it will take to get Rebecca to want to talk to someone but that is my new goal. I want to see freedom in my sister...though after today I see her on her way!
Monday, March 29, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
A new song...
It has been a long week since Eli's surgery. Wednesday we met with a speech therapist. A sweet woman who has taken a liking to my son...did everything to avoid the phrase "learning disability". We know maybe why he is so far behind but in the technical sense he has a learning disability. He has to be put in this category so they know what to do with and for him. It makes me shutter! Of course no one wants this for their kids. I was so thankful we could rule out autism before we walked through the door. I know it could be worse and that echoes in my heart when I see other children that have passed over Eli in development. I can be thankful he can look into my eyes sometimes and that he loves to get dirty...he is normal at most things. At times it is hard to swallow that my son will struggle so early with learning. Three years old should be all about dirt and dinosaurs...not speech therapy and home exercises. I hate having to list what words he does say and then have to write the phonetic way he pronounces those words. I was driving home yesterday from dropping Eli off at school wondering why I send him there at all. It hasn't helped and he just gets lost in all the other kids who can speak to the teacher and go home and tell their moms about their fun morning. I wish there was a physical way to unlock the ability to speak that is lost somewhere inside my son. I want the quick fix. I want to hear my baby speak!! I was annoyed with myself for being so upset and so gloomy over all of this. I put too much worth in this early learning challenge for Eli. I struggled all through school and college. Evan has a learning disability (ADHD) and also struggled through school. We both know the emotional toll that learning challenges can have on your self esteem...these often lasts many years into adulthood. Why our son? We know a little of the road ahead for him and it comes with pain. Oh how we had hoped this would not be the road for our children. Madeline seems to excel and catch on to things rather quickly. Another kick at Eli's self esteem as he might see things come easy to his sister while he struggles. Again, I was annoyed that I had become "that" mother. I was already preparing for my son to be a less than average student...after one meeting with a speech therapist. I know my struggles in school have left me extra sensitive to wanting better for my children. I couldn't figure out what my problem was. Eli was still the same boy and needed me now as much as he had needed me the first months of his life when my body was what gave him life and then sustained it. I knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy but I laughed when I remembered that breastfeeding was more challenging than childbirth! I remembered holding him in my lap and crying over him because he wouldn't latch on. I cried during every feeding afraid my son would die because he wasn't getting what he needed to live. (Hormones make you a little nutts). Then one day...he just got it and he never looked back! Eli has always been that way. Once he gets something right, in his own time, he just takes it and runs. It is as if he never remembers a time when he couldn't do something...he has no hesitation. I need to have faith in my son and in God who knows why all this happened. As I turned onto my street I heard a song on the radio and the first few verses unlocked that door that holds back my tears...why do I keep locking that door?
Do you wonder why you have to feel the things that hurt you. If there’s a God who loves you where is He now? Maybe there are things you can’t see. And all those things are happening to bring a better ending. Someday somehow you’ll see. Story of my life...literally! I have said before and I will say it again...I wouldn't change the things that have happened to me...not for all the money in the world. I'd never trade the pain for what I have learned and for the woman I am becoming. I could never look at my daughter and just tear up in joy of her freedom if I hadn't been abused as a little girl. I couldn't feel the pride in my son when he does little things to help his sister...I couldn't look forward to the man he'll become if I didn't know what it was like to have no one have any hope for me...it just wouldn't mean the same.
There is a small tunnel down the road from our house. I have walked through it once during an overcast day. I remember the goosebumps covering my skin as I stepped out of the sun into the shadow of the tunnel. The dirt and dead leaves make the inside if the tunnel very unappealing and a little scary. There was, of course, light at the end of the tunnel and the sunlight soon warmed me up and the fresh breeze hit my face...a much better smell than a dusky tunnel. I wondered though, on a hot day...wouldn't the shade of a dark tunnel be a welcome change. I thought of this as I heard the rest of this song. In life we often find ourselves inside tunnels..we could turn back because the darkness looks too unappealing but then we would never see what is on the other side...a fresh breeze waits for us there! I love how God won't always push us...though we need it sometimes and thus God pushes!!...but His patience is endearing to me. God knows when it is a good time to wait and when it is a good time to push...He certainly knows better than any one of us. He knows what waits on the other side, anticipating the peaceful breeze!
You wouldn't believe it (well you probably would) but I heard the new Amy grant song...the words just floored me and solidified what I have become to believe about a relationship with God:
God deserves many hallelujahs!!! But I think of my most dear friendships. My most dear friends have seen me raging mad, they have seen me weep violently over my abuse, they have heard me admit that I want my father...they hold precious pieces of my heart. I m so REAL with the people that I trust the most. Why be fake? I can pretend to be okay, I can play a "Christian" but all that brings is bitterness and anger so deep I can feel it tighten my muscles. In my mind, pretending to be okay is another wall...a wall I'd put up to just keep people away from me. It also confuses me...if I have to be okay all the time I never take the chance to understand why I hurt...I never feel. Feeling pain is painful but it is glorious the release of it all! God already knows what hurts me...when I cry when I get angry, when I shout out, when I am miserable I might as well get a big cup of tea and curl up with a blanket because God and I have just been real! Let the mascara run ladies...be REAL! Be vulnerable and find a soft place to land with friends whom you trust and a God who is thankful for every shout and every tear. I'd rather be a mess and be peaceful than have it held together with lies!
"Before the Morning" by Josh Wilson
Do you wonder why you have to
Feel the things that hurt you
If there’s a God who loves you where is He now
Maybe there are things you can’t see
And all those things are happening
To bring a better ending
Someday somehow you’ll see you’ll see
Would you dare would you dare to believe
That you still have a reason to sing
Cause the pain that you’ve been feeling
It can’t compare to the joy that’s coming
So hold on you gotta wait for the light
Press on and just fight the good fight
Cause the pain that you’ve been feeling
It’s just the dark before the morning
My friend you know how this all ends
You know where you’re going
You just don’t know how you’ll get there
So say a prayer
And hold on cause there’s good for those who love God
But life is not a snapshot
It might take a little time but you’ll see the bigger picture
Once you feel the weight of glory
All your pain will fade to memory
It’s just the hurt before the healing
Oh the pain that you’ve been feeling
It’s just the dark before the morning
Do you wonder why you have to feel the things that hurt you. If there’s a God who loves you where is He now? Maybe there are things you can’t see. And all those things are happening to bring a better ending. Someday somehow you’ll see. Story of my life...literally! I have said before and I will say it again...I wouldn't change the things that have happened to me...not for all the money in the world. I'd never trade the pain for what I have learned and for the woman I am becoming. I could never look at my daughter and just tear up in joy of her freedom if I hadn't been abused as a little girl. I couldn't feel the pride in my son when he does little things to help his sister...I couldn't look forward to the man he'll become if I didn't know what it was like to have no one have any hope for me...it just wouldn't mean the same.
There is a small tunnel down the road from our house. I have walked through it once during an overcast day. I remember the goosebumps covering my skin as I stepped out of the sun into the shadow of the tunnel. The dirt and dead leaves make the inside if the tunnel very unappealing and a little scary. There was, of course, light at the end of the tunnel and the sunlight soon warmed me up and the fresh breeze hit my face...a much better smell than a dusky tunnel. I wondered though, on a hot day...wouldn't the shade of a dark tunnel be a welcome change. I thought of this as I heard the rest of this song. In life we often find ourselves inside tunnels..we could turn back because the darkness looks too unappealing but then we would never see what is on the other side...a fresh breeze waits for us there! I love how God won't always push us...though we need it sometimes and thus God pushes!!...but His patience is endearing to me. God knows when it is a good time to wait and when it is a good time to push...He certainly knows better than any one of us. He knows what waits on the other side, anticipating the peaceful breeze!
You wouldn't believe it (well you probably would) but I heard the new Amy grant song...the words just floored me and solidified what I have become to believe about a relationship with God:
"Better than a Hallelujah"
God loves a lullaby
In a mother's tears in the dead of night
Better than a hallelujah sometimes
God loves the drunkard's cry
The soldiers plea not to let him die
Better than a hallelujah sometimes
We pour out or miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful the mess we are
The honest fries of breaking hearts
Better than a hallelujah
The woman holding on for life
The dying man giving up the fight
Are better than a hallelujah sometimes
The tears of shame for whats been done
The silence when the words won't come
Are better than a hallelujah sometimes
Better than a church bell ringing
Better than a choir singing, singing out
God deserves many hallelujahs!!! But I think of my most dear friendships. My most dear friends have seen me raging mad, they have seen me weep violently over my abuse, they have heard me admit that I want my father...they hold precious pieces of my heart. I m so REAL with the people that I trust the most. Why be fake? I can pretend to be okay, I can play a "Christian" but all that brings is bitterness and anger so deep I can feel it tighten my muscles. In my mind, pretending to be okay is another wall...a wall I'd put up to just keep people away from me. It also confuses me...if I have to be okay all the time I never take the chance to understand why I hurt...I never feel. Feeling pain is painful but it is glorious the release of it all! God already knows what hurts me...when I cry when I get angry, when I shout out, when I am miserable I might as well get a big cup of tea and curl up with a blanket because God and I have just been real! Let the mascara run ladies...be REAL! Be vulnerable and find a soft place to land with friends whom you trust and a God who is thankful for every shout and every tear. I'd rather be a mess and be peaceful than have it held together with lies!
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
My son
I think I updated you all after Eli's surgery. He did so well and we were ready to go home 2 hours after getting to the hospital. I expected to noticed a significant difference in Eli, but we haven't seen a change yet. His teacher actually had to ask me if he had had the surgery. They were expecting the same thing. I guess I am getting a little fearful that the problem is deeper. I am afraid that Eli has a learning disability.
I have been on the verge of tears...and many times have been past that point since Friday. Evan and I still have not shared with his parents, his sister, and other family about Eli's hearing and speech delays. His brother and wife know as they live right next door. I think I blogged about this situation, but allow me to refresh. We enrolled Eli in preschool last May after seeking advice from the educational director at our church. She had seen other children with Eli"s similar delays catch up after being around other children. Evan and I decided to give Eli one semester to make an improvement. December came and we had not seen any improvement at all. In fact, we had had many discouragements along the way. Several moms came up to me and said they heard about Eli all the time from their child...my son had never mentioned one name or one child from his class...he could not speak to me. I'd cry every time but promised to give my son a chance. In October Evan's mother came for a visit. The morning she left she was waiting for me in my driveway as I was getting home from dropping Eli off at school. I saw that her car was sitting at the bottom of my driveway. I thought she must be in a big hurry because she had spent the night next door...why park her car there if she weren't ready to GO! We had spent 4 hours together the night before. She asked if I had noticed that Eli doesn't talk much...that in fact every time they came back to the states he was talking less. I looked at the car at the foot of the driveway and then at the little girl in my arms and I wondered why she wasn't snuggled in grandma's arms and I decided this was not the time or the circumstances to open my heart to my mother-in-law. She was halfway "out the door" and this situation deserved...care. I told her his teachers were aware of the problem and that they said he was doing fine. I offered nothing more. I was offended that she considered herself an expert on Eli's problem after 4 hours with him and the whole family. I dismissed it as best I could. About a month later..."it" hit the fan when I got a call from Eli's great grandmother concerned about Eli's speech progress. Another conversation with Eli's great Aunt confirmed my suspicions that the gossip had been lit like wildfire. I finally found out the contents of that gossip when my sister-in-law told me Eli's great grandma told her she was concerned for Eli because Evan and I were not getting him help. I was so so so hurt. I know that grandma had been fed this information... All these months of pain at my son being passed over by his younger peers and now his own family was whispering about him. My son, my baby has a problem and I felt like there was no safe place for him. Even his grandpa was ready to strike a gossip match when he tried to provoke information out of my sister-in-law by asking, "So what do you think of Eli's speech?". Why don't they ask me? I mean, ask me out of concern and give me the consideration and environment to answer! No one asks! I care more about giving Eli room to grow or fail than answering the rumors. We began the journey towards surgery in January...as we had planned. I heard the words, "Your son is partially deaf" and I felt a sucker punch. How could I have not known? His ENT doctor said it was as if Eli had been hearing as if he were under water...but for how long? No one really knows. He had fluid so thick behind his ear drums the doctor said he had no questions that Eli hadn't been able to hear most of what anyone was saying. How could I not have known?!
I felt peaceful during the surgery. His doctor had asked to pray over Eli before the surgery. I needed to know I was not alone. I needed to know that God saw my baby...that no matter what was going on in the family that my baby was a priority. Later that night Evan and I again talked about whether to tell his parents or not. Evan would like to address the rumors...what could it hurt. I just feel the onslaught of questions from the family and I don't feel like answering. I feel like the more information they have the more proof they'll have to think I am a sub par mother. I haven't been able to get passed feeling like I have failed my son. I can't get past the pain of never hearing my son tell me he loves me...or telling me about his friends at school. I can't help but tear up when I think of all the "Mommy loves yous" I have WHISPERED in his ears that he never heard. We are still very much in the middle of all of this. I don't need to be worrying about what is being said about my son. I cried...no I wept to Evan and begged him not to say anything yet. I cried that I didn't want anyone to say that my son was stupid (sorry, weeping does not allow for political correctness)!! I am still afraid that the delay goes much deeper. I can't offer up my precious boy to this family...known for their insensitivity. It just isn't a priority now to include people 1600 miles away. Eli's church family knows his struggles. I'd like to see Eli get past this "delay" and be able to communicate before we explain the process. I'd like Evan and I to be the only ones scrutinizing his progress with the speech therapist. Information is power...I feel like this information our lifeline as parents. What if Eli is learning disabled...don't we deserve the privacy to process that and deal with that in our own way as we help our son overcome?
I have been on the verge of tears...and many times have been past that point since Friday. Evan and I still have not shared with his parents, his sister, and other family about Eli's hearing and speech delays. His brother and wife know as they live right next door. I think I blogged about this situation, but allow me to refresh. We enrolled Eli in preschool last May after seeking advice from the educational director at our church. She had seen other children with Eli"s similar delays catch up after being around other children. Evan and I decided to give Eli one semester to make an improvement. December came and we had not seen any improvement at all. In fact, we had had many discouragements along the way. Several moms came up to me and said they heard about Eli all the time from their child...my son had never mentioned one name or one child from his class...he could not speak to me. I'd cry every time but promised to give my son a chance. In October Evan's mother came for a visit. The morning she left she was waiting for me in my driveway as I was getting home from dropping Eli off at school. I saw that her car was sitting at the bottom of my driveway. I thought she must be in a big hurry because she had spent the night next door...why park her car there if she weren't ready to GO! We had spent 4 hours together the night before. She asked if I had noticed that Eli doesn't talk much...that in fact every time they came back to the states he was talking less. I looked at the car at the foot of the driveway and then at the little girl in my arms and I wondered why she wasn't snuggled in grandma's arms and I decided this was not the time or the circumstances to open my heart to my mother-in-law. She was halfway "out the door" and this situation deserved...care. I told her his teachers were aware of the problem and that they said he was doing fine. I offered nothing more. I was offended that she considered herself an expert on Eli's problem after 4 hours with him and the whole family. I dismissed it as best I could. About a month later..."it" hit the fan when I got a call from Eli's great grandmother concerned about Eli's speech progress. Another conversation with Eli's great Aunt confirmed my suspicions that the gossip had been lit like wildfire. I finally found out the contents of that gossip when my sister-in-law told me Eli's great grandma told her she was concerned for Eli because Evan and I were not getting him help. I was so so so hurt. I know that grandma had been fed this information... All these months of pain at my son being passed over by his younger peers and now his own family was whispering about him. My son, my baby has a problem and I felt like there was no safe place for him. Even his grandpa was ready to strike a gossip match when he tried to provoke information out of my sister-in-law by asking, "So what do you think of Eli's speech?". Why don't they ask me? I mean, ask me out of concern and give me the consideration and environment to answer! No one asks! I care more about giving Eli room to grow or fail than answering the rumors. We began the journey towards surgery in January...as we had planned. I heard the words, "Your son is partially deaf" and I felt a sucker punch. How could I have not known? His ENT doctor said it was as if Eli had been hearing as if he were under water...but for how long? No one really knows. He had fluid so thick behind his ear drums the doctor said he had no questions that Eli hadn't been able to hear most of what anyone was saying. How could I not have known?!
I felt peaceful during the surgery. His doctor had asked to pray over Eli before the surgery. I needed to know I was not alone. I needed to know that God saw my baby...that no matter what was going on in the family that my baby was a priority. Later that night Evan and I again talked about whether to tell his parents or not. Evan would like to address the rumors...what could it hurt. I just feel the onslaught of questions from the family and I don't feel like answering. I feel like the more information they have the more proof they'll have to think I am a sub par mother. I haven't been able to get passed feeling like I have failed my son. I can't get past the pain of never hearing my son tell me he loves me...or telling me about his friends at school. I can't help but tear up when I think of all the "Mommy loves yous" I have WHISPERED in his ears that he never heard. We are still very much in the middle of all of this. I don't need to be worrying about what is being said about my son. I cried...no I wept to Evan and begged him not to say anything yet. I cried that I didn't want anyone to say that my son was stupid (sorry, weeping does not allow for political correctness)!! I am still afraid that the delay goes much deeper. I can't offer up my precious boy to this family...known for their insensitivity. It just isn't a priority now to include people 1600 miles away. Eli's church family knows his struggles. I'd like to see Eli get past this "delay" and be able to communicate before we explain the process. I'd like Evan and I to be the only ones scrutinizing his progress with the speech therapist. Information is power...I feel like this information our lifeline as parents. What if Eli is learning disabled...don't we deserve the privacy to process that and deal with that in our own way as we help our son overcome?
Friday, March 12, 2010
I wanted to thank you all for praying for Eli today. The proceedure went lightening fast! In fact about 3 minutes after my last post they called me to the recovery room to wait for Eli to wake up. He took a little longer than usual to wake up but I guess that can happen when you share a room with your sister who rises with the sun!! He fussed a little after he woke up. Mommy was there with his Woody costume to make it all better. By the time we reached Toccoa he was role playing in the back with his toys. After getting some food into him the crankiness died down! He will have drops put in his ears twice a day (mom isn't looking forward to that:-() and will see the doctor until the tubes fall out. The doc said the fluid was really thick...totally explaining the hearing loss!! Glad this is over!!!
I have just witnessed what my son would be like if he were drunk! They gave him some medicine to knock him out and as it started working he just started to giggle and giggle!! He could even carry the weight of his head. He'd look up at me and tell me Woody was broken...a "Toy Story" thing...and I'd reply "Woody isn't broken!" And he would giggle some more.
I have to tell you I feel 100% better about the "strangers". Eli's doc came to talk with me and asked if he could pray for Eli before the surgery!!
God wrap your arms around my baby! Guide the doctor's hand and let my baby wake up able to hear clearly! Let this be the beginning of complete healing of his hearing problems!!
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Eli's surgery
Tomorrow morning Eli will have tubes put in both of his ears. In a process begun last May, we have finally figured out why Eli has a speech delay. We took him to several doctors and discovered that he has fluid behind his ear drums. The doctor suspects he has had this fluid most if not all his life. Eli is essentially half deaf. This diagnosis answers so many questions. The surgery was scheduled very quickly.
We have had about a week to process the fact that Eli will have surgery. It is a very quick surgery without an IV. Eli will be ready to come home a few hours after we arrive at the hospital. I have still found myself a little hesitant. My baby boy...put to sleep...cutting in his ears...it all freaks me out. I am putting him in the hands of doctors...a man I met for the first time a week ago. One of my most valuable treasures put in the hands of a stranger. Why didn't I become a audiologist???
I guess this is one of those firsts. We've dealt with a little of this with Madeline's heart but never surgery. Watching my child be wheeled away from me might be one of the toughest moments of my life so far. Knowing I can't be beside him and hold his hand will torture me. Knowing I am not in control annoys me!!! I have also felt guilty for worrying so much about my son this week. I have gotten to the point of feeling very angry inside at people who would chastise me for worrying. I dropped Eli off at school this morning. One of the teachers mentioned she had heard Eli would be having surgery soon. I told her about his procedure and she mentioned her son had had the same thing done. I love to hear mothers say what a world of difference the tubes made in their children. I have even packed a book to read to Eli after he wakes up from the anesthesia...I want to see if he notices a difference. Anyway, she wished us luck and offered to pray. I thanked her and she mentioned how nervous she had been. Just the idea of surgery and anesthesia and that being her first experience as a mother and her child having surgery...it was enough to wrack your nerves. I was thankful for the reminder that I don't have to be solid as a rock all the time. Why do some Christians think it is helpful to shame others for worrying? I mean I know what the Bible says about worry. I know God takes care of it all. But is God not waiting there for me on the other side of my worry? Do they think I will get to trust faster if I am quilted into it? That isn't how I work. It feels like a hands off approach to relationship. Why not ask me why I am worried? Why not stop and pray for me there? For someone like me it NEVER helps to guilt me into things!!! I am stubborn. My stubbornness is a blessing, I feel. I don't sink into religion or trust...just because you tell me something "is" does not mean I believe you. I need to see or experience it on my own...so it is real to me. My stubbornness serves as endurance...I endure till I have answers. Because I have found what I was looking for...or What was looking for me, it is mine. I will never lose it because I have seen the truth. God found me this way. God has shown me so much truth this way. The end result was not polluted with other people it was just me and God. Isn't that as it should be. Not all people are like me, I respect that. Why would I want a bunch of identicals walking around? Why would God want everyone the same? Free will looks like God's biggest mistake but it was His great gift...maybe to Himself. What is more real: someone required to say they love you or someone who chooses and feels love for you? God has no time and no room for fakes. I am no longer a fake. I don't play a part. I am not all God wants me to be but there are parts of me that are solid...a foundation, if you will. God builds upon what is solid and sure.
Please pray for Eli tomorrow morning. The surgery is scheduled for 9:15am...another challenge will be dealing with my cranky child since he is not allowed to eat anything until after his surgery..
We have had about a week to process the fact that Eli will have surgery. It is a very quick surgery without an IV. Eli will be ready to come home a few hours after we arrive at the hospital. I have still found myself a little hesitant. My baby boy...put to sleep...cutting in his ears...it all freaks me out. I am putting him in the hands of doctors...a man I met for the first time a week ago. One of my most valuable treasures put in the hands of a stranger. Why didn't I become a audiologist???
I guess this is one of those firsts. We've dealt with a little of this with Madeline's heart but never surgery. Watching my child be wheeled away from me might be one of the toughest moments of my life so far. Knowing I can't be beside him and hold his hand will torture me. Knowing I am not in control annoys me!!! I have also felt guilty for worrying so much about my son this week. I have gotten to the point of feeling very angry inside at people who would chastise me for worrying. I dropped Eli off at school this morning. One of the teachers mentioned she had heard Eli would be having surgery soon. I told her about his procedure and she mentioned her son had had the same thing done. I love to hear mothers say what a world of difference the tubes made in their children. I have even packed a book to read to Eli after he wakes up from the anesthesia...I want to see if he notices a difference. Anyway, she wished us luck and offered to pray. I thanked her and she mentioned how nervous she had been. Just the idea of surgery and anesthesia and that being her first experience as a mother and her child having surgery...it was enough to wrack your nerves. I was thankful for the reminder that I don't have to be solid as a rock all the time. Why do some Christians think it is helpful to shame others for worrying? I mean I know what the Bible says about worry. I know God takes care of it all. But is God not waiting there for me on the other side of my worry? Do they think I will get to trust faster if I am quilted into it? That isn't how I work. It feels like a hands off approach to relationship. Why not ask me why I am worried? Why not stop and pray for me there? For someone like me it NEVER helps to guilt me into things!!! I am stubborn. My stubbornness is a blessing, I feel. I don't sink into religion or trust...just because you tell me something "is" does not mean I believe you. I need to see or experience it on my own...so it is real to me. My stubbornness serves as endurance...I endure till I have answers. Because I have found what I was looking for...or What was looking for me, it is mine. I will never lose it because I have seen the truth. God found me this way. God has shown me so much truth this way. The end result was not polluted with other people it was just me and God. Isn't that as it should be. Not all people are like me, I respect that. Why would I want a bunch of identicals walking around? Why would God want everyone the same? Free will looks like God's biggest mistake but it was His great gift...maybe to Himself. What is more real: someone required to say they love you or someone who chooses and feels love for you? God has no time and no room for fakes. I am no longer a fake. I don't play a part. I am not all God wants me to be but there are parts of me that are solid...a foundation, if you will. God builds upon what is solid and sure.
Please pray for Eli tomorrow morning. The surgery is scheduled for 9:15am...another challenge will be dealing with my cranky child since he is not allowed to eat anything until after his surgery..
Friday, March 5, 2010
What chance have they now?
Some days...when I seem to fail the most or when I lose the control or patience I am reminded of the thought that has plagued me since my children were born. What chance have they now? As much as I wanted and begged God for children...why did he give them to me? I feel like the most unqualified person to be called "mommy" by these two people. I mean some can be good parents because they can scrape together some kind of attack plan from their own parents...I certainly don't have even that. Everyday we live together I feel like I am swimming up stream...I am desperately trying to keep one step ahead of the challenges of parenthood. I am learning everything for the first time. What does nurture look like? What does healthy discipline look like? Will my kids only remember the times I fail? Will they remember the times I lock myself in my room and cry because I got frustrated and raised my voice? Will they grow up to be afraid of me? What chance have they now? Wouldn't a better woman have been better suited for Eli and Madeline? How could I ever be the best they deserve? How?
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Remembering and relearning...
I never noticed, until today, how much Rebecca reminds me of myself when I was at the beginning of this journey. I remember staring into the depths of pain and thinking there was no way...no possible way I would make it to the other side. I think I even prepared to hobble through life as half a person. There was just no way to overcome the past and become whole...whatever that meant.
There was a fight today between two people in my family. I will spare you the gory details but I saw some very interesting things. Rebecca felt attacked and like she was being ganged up on by everyone she lived with and even by people on the Quinn side. It wasn't really what was happening but in her reality...she was deep in a battle for...everything. She reacted in great anger. She used words to hurt the one who had hurt her. Words I have never heard from her and I hope I never do again. I sat back and had to search where this anger could have been coming from...but I didn't have to look very far. What had Rebecca always seen and heard when my mother became angry? My mother knew exactly what to say or do to hurt her children. Every parent has this ability, this power. It is a very serious and enormous power not to be taken for granted. Love, I mean real honest-to-goodness love does not allow us to use this power to hurt. My husband and I have this power over each other. I know what to say that could crush him as a man and he knows what can rip me apart...but we never do or say these things. Our love for each other means that we would hurt if the other were hurting. That hurt would be deeper if one of us was the cause. Evan has my heart and I have his. We are safe with each other because we are in love. We disagree but never cross the boundary into abuse. We are the same with our children. It has never crossed my mind to call my children names or tell them things like, "You aren't a part of my family", etc. I hold their hearts and their souls in the palm of my hand...as their mother, I am in love with them. Their hearts are precious to me and their souls are my privilege to mold...it isn't possible for me to break these things so close and precious to me. Frustration is not the same as hate and neither is anger. Love serves as a protective barrier...and thank you God for that!! Anyway, my mother could never see past herself. I don't believe she ever had the experience of love for her children. I am sure she had a fondness for us at times but love is too selfless in parts and she could not offer that of herself. Rebecca mirrored all that she had ever experienced. She lashed out with words as sharp as swords to hurt the other person. That is the only way she knows to act when she becomes angry. How could she know otherwise? (Scary how our reactions to things will be memorized by our children...yikes!) As the day progressed more and more people got involved and Rebecca felt as if she were sinking into a thick pool of tar. What do we do as children when we think or know we are in trouble? We panic, we prepare for the worst possible outcome. We run in every direction. We try to hide. We go numb. We cry. We avoid confrontation at all costs...ANY PRICE IS WORTH NOT HAVING TO FACE IT!! Rebecca acted no differently. She cried, she wanted to run away, she even mentioned suicide, and she ran and hid from everyone in the house. She hasn't had a chance to learn unconditional love. Se doesn't understand how a family works. She has never even witness conflict resolution or a healthy argument...doesn't even know that those things exist. What she would have paid, literally, to make it all go away! I told her to stay where she was... I didn't know what else to say. She had found a safe hiding place and if it gave her a sense of safety, let it be. I used to run and hide in any closet whenever my mother might be looking for me. She might send another child to look for me but I would hide and devour those extra minutes before my body would be bruised. It made no logical sense to hide...where could she believe I had gone? I needed to feel like I had some control over my fate...however unrealistic it was. I told Rebecca that it would be alright. When this argument was sorted out she would feel closer to her family and may even be thankful for this day. She is not yet secure with her place in either family. Any shifts in her life and she reacts as if someone pushed a fire alarm..."I need to find a way out or I will die!" Reminds me of myself to a "T"! It pains me to see first hand how an abusive childhood literally strips away pieces of the truth. It leaves behind a broken down human trying to keep up with a world that does not understand them and therefore has no patience for their incompetence when it comes to living, laughing, and relating. How can you "speak the language" if you grew up in another country?
There was a fight today between two people in my family. I will spare you the gory details but I saw some very interesting things. Rebecca felt attacked and like she was being ganged up on by everyone she lived with and even by people on the Quinn side. It wasn't really what was happening but in her reality...she was deep in a battle for...everything. She reacted in great anger. She used words to hurt the one who had hurt her. Words I have never heard from her and I hope I never do again. I sat back and had to search where this anger could have been coming from...but I didn't have to look very far. What had Rebecca always seen and heard when my mother became angry? My mother knew exactly what to say or do to hurt her children. Every parent has this ability, this power. It is a very serious and enormous power not to be taken for granted. Love, I mean real honest-to-goodness love does not allow us to use this power to hurt. My husband and I have this power over each other. I know what to say that could crush him as a man and he knows what can rip me apart...but we never do or say these things. Our love for each other means that we would hurt if the other were hurting. That hurt would be deeper if one of us was the cause. Evan has my heart and I have his. We are safe with each other because we are in love. We disagree but never cross the boundary into abuse. We are the same with our children. It has never crossed my mind to call my children names or tell them things like, "You aren't a part of my family", etc. I hold their hearts and their souls in the palm of my hand...as their mother, I am in love with them. Their hearts are precious to me and their souls are my privilege to mold...it isn't possible for me to break these things so close and precious to me. Frustration is not the same as hate and neither is anger. Love serves as a protective barrier...and thank you God for that!! Anyway, my mother could never see past herself. I don't believe she ever had the experience of love for her children. I am sure she had a fondness for us at times but love is too selfless in parts and she could not offer that of herself. Rebecca mirrored all that she had ever experienced. She lashed out with words as sharp as swords to hurt the other person. That is the only way she knows to act when she becomes angry. How could she know otherwise? (Scary how our reactions to things will be memorized by our children...yikes!) As the day progressed more and more people got involved and Rebecca felt as if she were sinking into a thick pool of tar. What do we do as children when we think or know we are in trouble? We panic, we prepare for the worst possible outcome. We run in every direction. We try to hide. We go numb. We cry. We avoid confrontation at all costs...ANY PRICE IS WORTH NOT HAVING TO FACE IT!! Rebecca acted no differently. She cried, she wanted to run away, she even mentioned suicide, and she ran and hid from everyone in the house. She hasn't had a chance to learn unconditional love. Se doesn't understand how a family works. She has never even witness conflict resolution or a healthy argument...doesn't even know that those things exist. What she would have paid, literally, to make it all go away! I told her to stay where she was... I didn't know what else to say. She had found a safe hiding place and if it gave her a sense of safety, let it be. I used to run and hide in any closet whenever my mother might be looking for me. She might send another child to look for me but I would hide and devour those extra minutes before my body would be bruised. It made no logical sense to hide...where could she believe I had gone? I needed to feel like I had some control over my fate...however unrealistic it was. I told Rebecca that it would be alright. When this argument was sorted out she would feel closer to her family and may even be thankful for this day. She is not yet secure with her place in either family. Any shifts in her life and she reacts as if someone pushed a fire alarm..."I need to find a way out or I will die!" Reminds me of myself to a "T"! It pains me to see first hand how an abusive childhood literally strips away pieces of the truth. It leaves behind a broken down human trying to keep up with a world that does not understand them and therefore has no patience for their incompetence when it comes to living, laughing, and relating. How can you "speak the language" if you grew up in another country?
Monday, March 1, 2010
Today doesn't count
I am praying today is erased from my children's memories. Eli was up at 4am and continued in his stage of sneaking into our bed. Only this morning he didn't feel like sleeping. I have always been someone who needs sleep. If I don't get it...watch out. I lose all patience and I can't seem to function. Eli was still awake at 6am. He had decided to back into his own bedroom but decided it was playtime. I had been in there twice before. Finally I burst out of bed and stomped into their room. I whispered loudly for him to get back into bed and it was bed time. He started crying out, "No, No, NO!!" Maddie started to stir and I was about to lose it. I could never make it through a day if they both decided to wake up now!! I put my hand over his mouth and told him to "Shut up". All the sudden, like a thunder clap, I saw an outline of my mother's face. My outburst caused him no physical harm...I actually don't spank Eli. Evan does that in the rare occurrences that he needs it. I never raise a hand to my children...but in my exhaustion I lost control of my self control. I stood there in the middle of their room...both of my children crying, each for different reasons. I knelt by my son and held back my own tears and I told my son Mommy was sorry and he needed to go to sleep. I found Madeline's pacie and handed it to her. Thankfully she laid down to fall back asleep. It feels like I have fallen off the wagon. I have instances where I raise my voice or just have outbursts of frustration. I usually remove myself...even lock myself in my room until I can calm down. I know how I get when I am tired like that...why did I go into his room? I should know better. I hate what I did. I hate those glimpses of what I am capable of...I hate it!! That is why I choose not to spank our kids. I give the timeouts and I count to 3...but I don't put my hands on my children out of anger or frustration. A mother's hands are meant for love and nurturing. I feel like today my hands are messengers of anger and fear. I know everyone fails as parents...do they fail this badly?
I had a chance yesterday to decompress and debrief from my PA trip with a very special lady. I know she reads these so I won't mention her name so not to cast light where it might not be wanted...but she knows who she is. I have wondered if I will ever get the chance to repay her for her dedication to women like me. I wonder if I will ever be as giving as she. As much as I have lost...a mother who loves me, a mother who looks fondly at me so proud of what I have become, a mother who holds a shot of me with a big pregnant belly in her mind and sighs with a smile...I have found these things in this woman. So confident am I in our bond that I know she remembers me when I am not there...as a good mother would. She made some time for me yesterday afternoon. How relieving it is to be with someone who speaks "abuse". I can begin a conversation and not have to explain my background or why I am the way I am. We begin on that foundation and talk for hours. She remembers me 10 years ago... It must have been easier to relate to a brick wall than it was to get through to me. She pursued me and told me yesterday that it was because she could see I was making choices to try to make my life better than it was. I will have to take her word for that!! I sat in her living room for 2 months and cried like I had never cried before but I never spoke a single word. I once became suspicious that she hid some kind of chemical in the threshold of her door that sank into my tear ducts and made me release these tears involuntarily...no woman could possibly cry as much as I did. I still think she has a graveyard behind her house for all the masks and outer shells that all the women that have gone through her living room have left behind. I still think back to the person I was and I feel like I must have blocked out the moment I removed my "wounded Ashley" suit and left it on her living room floor. Keep it and bury it deep!
We of course talked about my children! I still am feisty when I remember my mother calling my children brats...or they must be brats because they are mine. It just gets under my skin. I talked it over with Evan and I realized my mother never understood children. She never understood me as a little girl, a teenager, or a woman. Our world was faced in her direction. Everything we did, everything we said, everything we planned had to have its strings tied to my mother...she pulled those strings that ran everything. My mother could never ask for help...her own issues of course. Even having a child...she did it on her own (hence the "no drugs" fiasco I have mentioned before). I don't know if she read any parenting books or did any research...I did but I am just that kind of person. I don't like to be caught off guard! All I can say is that she never let the love a mother feels...she never let it in, she never let it take her over. The love of a man is powerful in it's own way and beautiful just the same. The love we feel when those wrinkly bodies first emerge...or in my case, when that cry first pierces the delivery room...everything else is drowned out by the voice of your child. That is love at first sight...I can say that I loved my children before I ever saw their faces. That kind of love is powerful and so so so physical that you can feel it. It is very rare you will see a woman who has just given birth have dry eyes. Love like between a mother and her child is so physical and she can't help but express what she is feeling the way women do best...with tears. I wonder if my mother never let that love in. Did she feel that burst in her body when she knew life would never be the same...did she ever feel like life began when I came into the world. Probably not. What a shame...I have always felt a little more blessed to be the mother. I get to grow the babies and give my body to them for 9 months. I get to nurture them from the moment their souls are woven together. What an amazing, priceless treasure we have as mothers. My mother missed it...she missed out on the most inexpensive gift in such a huge package. My brother was born a whole 3 years after me. In that 3 years she never took the chance to know me. When my brother came I must have been jealous. She'd leave the room and all the sudden he would start crying. Who knows what I must have done to him. What she missed was the natural occurrence there. All children feel misplaced when a new baby comes into the house. Instead of helping me through the transition she chastised me. She saw my jealousy as a personality trait for the rest of my life. Every time I took the larger portion or picked on my brother I received a reminder that I have always been a nasty girl. I used to con other kids into giving me things...well, I only remember this happening once but if you go by my mother...I hope you don't...I have always been able to manipulate and con the pants off anyone. Ahhh, and there it is...the planting of my view of my character any time I get something that I want at the supposed expense of another. My how our mother's words travel with us till we DIE!!! I wonder what I would have become if my mother didn't always see the "dirty" side of me? What if she had nurtured my jealousy...would I have learned to cope through life's ups and down, would I be more secure in relationships...her way of dealing with me was obviously a pattern. What if she had nurtured my supposed conning of other people? Would there have been a saleswoman in me...we may never know. I can see parts of my children's person coming through. Eli is a thoughtful little boy. He often comes up to me during his playing just to give me a kiss or to get a kiss. The other day I asked him to share a handful of his cheerios with Maddie. He did and she ate them gratefully. A few minutes later I watched as he got another handful and placed the cheerios in the same place for Maddie to eat...without being asked. What a precious moment for a mother to witness. I told him what a sweet brother he was...I think he likes hearing that. Of course 10 minutes later I saw him smack Maddie when she touched the toy he was playing with. Why should his hitting her overshadow what he had done 10 minutes before out of the goodness inside of him? The truth is, all kids get jealous, all kids hit, all kids are bad some of the time. I honestly think my mother found a new way to be the victim when she could tell other people that I was a "brat"...if I did something wrong and everyone one was there to see it she could claim that I had always been that way. I can see a lot of myself in my Maddie. She has a temper and will push her brother away if he is on my lap when she is there or wants to be there. We simply compromise. I have two legs! Eli eventually gets bored and gets off my lap...but my Maddie likes to cuddle. As independent as she is (presently I am having to find new things to feed her because she refuses to be fed, she wants to do it herself!) she still needs mommy and only mommy after about 7pm. She'll lay her head on my shoulder and I can't help but think...this is my daughter. This is the little girl who will get her heart broken, get married, have babies and (hopefully) miss me when I am gone...how am I ever going to get her there as the women she was meant to be? How am I ever going to be the mother she needs for the rest of her life? How can I ever be the mother she'll need to sustain her after I die until we see each other in Heaven? How can I, being the person that I am, ever be that important to these two people? I guess for now, I am the shoulder that calms her before she goes to sleep and when she falls down. Will it always be that easy? Probably not. I just hope today doesn't count!!
I had a chance yesterday to decompress and debrief from my PA trip with a very special lady. I know she reads these so I won't mention her name so not to cast light where it might not be wanted...but she knows who she is. I have wondered if I will ever get the chance to repay her for her dedication to women like me. I wonder if I will ever be as giving as she. As much as I have lost...a mother who loves me, a mother who looks fondly at me so proud of what I have become, a mother who holds a shot of me with a big pregnant belly in her mind and sighs with a smile...I have found these things in this woman. So confident am I in our bond that I know she remembers me when I am not there...as a good mother would. She made some time for me yesterday afternoon. How relieving it is to be with someone who speaks "abuse". I can begin a conversation and not have to explain my background or why I am the way I am. We begin on that foundation and talk for hours. She remembers me 10 years ago... It must have been easier to relate to a brick wall than it was to get through to me. She pursued me and told me yesterday that it was because she could see I was making choices to try to make my life better than it was. I will have to take her word for that!! I sat in her living room for 2 months and cried like I had never cried before but I never spoke a single word. I once became suspicious that she hid some kind of chemical in the threshold of her door that sank into my tear ducts and made me release these tears involuntarily...no woman could possibly cry as much as I did. I still think she has a graveyard behind her house for all the masks and outer shells that all the women that have gone through her living room have left behind. I still think back to the person I was and I feel like I must have blocked out the moment I removed my "wounded Ashley" suit and left it on her living room floor. Keep it and bury it deep!
We of course talked about my children! I still am feisty when I remember my mother calling my children brats...or they must be brats because they are mine. It just gets under my skin. I talked it over with Evan and I realized my mother never understood children. She never understood me as a little girl, a teenager, or a woman. Our world was faced in her direction. Everything we did, everything we said, everything we planned had to have its strings tied to my mother...she pulled those strings that ran everything. My mother could never ask for help...her own issues of course. Even having a child...she did it on her own (hence the "no drugs" fiasco I have mentioned before). I don't know if she read any parenting books or did any research...I did but I am just that kind of person. I don't like to be caught off guard! All I can say is that she never let the love a mother feels...she never let it in, she never let it take her over. The love of a man is powerful in it's own way and beautiful just the same. The love we feel when those wrinkly bodies first emerge...or in my case, when that cry first pierces the delivery room...everything else is drowned out by the voice of your child. That is love at first sight...I can say that I loved my children before I ever saw their faces. That kind of love is powerful and so so so physical that you can feel it. It is very rare you will see a woman who has just given birth have dry eyes. Love like between a mother and her child is so physical and she can't help but express what she is feeling the way women do best...with tears. I wonder if my mother never let that love in. Did she feel that burst in her body when she knew life would never be the same...did she ever feel like life began when I came into the world. Probably not. What a shame...I have always felt a little more blessed to be the mother. I get to grow the babies and give my body to them for 9 months. I get to nurture them from the moment their souls are woven together. What an amazing, priceless treasure we have as mothers. My mother missed it...she missed out on the most inexpensive gift in such a huge package. My brother was born a whole 3 years after me. In that 3 years she never took the chance to know me. When my brother came I must have been jealous. She'd leave the room and all the sudden he would start crying. Who knows what I must have done to him. What she missed was the natural occurrence there. All children feel misplaced when a new baby comes into the house. Instead of helping me through the transition she chastised me. She saw my jealousy as a personality trait for the rest of my life. Every time I took the larger portion or picked on my brother I received a reminder that I have always been a nasty girl. I used to con other kids into giving me things...well, I only remember this happening once but if you go by my mother...I hope you don't...I have always been able to manipulate and con the pants off anyone. Ahhh, and there it is...the planting of my view of my character any time I get something that I want at the supposed expense of another. My how our mother's words travel with us till we DIE!!! I wonder what I would have become if my mother didn't always see the "dirty" side of me? What if she had nurtured my jealousy...would I have learned to cope through life's ups and down, would I be more secure in relationships...her way of dealing with me was obviously a pattern. What if she had nurtured my supposed conning of other people? Would there have been a saleswoman in me...we may never know. I can see parts of my children's person coming through. Eli is a thoughtful little boy. He often comes up to me during his playing just to give me a kiss or to get a kiss. The other day I asked him to share a handful of his cheerios with Maddie. He did and she ate them gratefully. A few minutes later I watched as he got another handful and placed the cheerios in the same place for Maddie to eat...without being asked. What a precious moment for a mother to witness. I told him what a sweet brother he was...I think he likes hearing that. Of course 10 minutes later I saw him smack Maddie when she touched the toy he was playing with. Why should his hitting her overshadow what he had done 10 minutes before out of the goodness inside of him? The truth is, all kids get jealous, all kids hit, all kids are bad some of the time. I honestly think my mother found a new way to be the victim when she could tell other people that I was a "brat"...if I did something wrong and everyone one was there to see it she could claim that I had always been that way. I can see a lot of myself in my Maddie. She has a temper and will push her brother away if he is on my lap when she is there or wants to be there. We simply compromise. I have two legs! Eli eventually gets bored and gets off my lap...but my Maddie likes to cuddle. As independent as she is (presently I am having to find new things to feed her because she refuses to be fed, she wants to do it herself!) she still needs mommy and only mommy after about 7pm. She'll lay her head on my shoulder and I can't help but think...this is my daughter. This is the little girl who will get her heart broken, get married, have babies and (hopefully) miss me when I am gone...how am I ever going to get her there as the women she was meant to be? How am I ever going to be the mother she needs for the rest of her life? How can I ever be the mother she'll need to sustain her after I die until we see each other in Heaven? How can I, being the person that I am, ever be that important to these two people? I guess for now, I am the shoulder that calms her before she goes to sleep and when she falls down. Will it always be that easy? Probably not. I just hope today doesn't count!!
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