Dear Blog, I am Miserable.

I just need to complain for a moment. I'm sure as heck not going to do it on Facebook (I hate that), nor am I going to call Ben just to complain some more (I've done that enough this week)...but...I am near the point of a breakdown, so need to vent. Hence, the blog.

Dear Blog,

I want nothing more than to be wearing comfortable jammies, snuggled in Ben's arms in my bed right now. With kids elsewhere so I can rest and not always be on high alert and in demand. I am SICK and my emotional control capacity is near zero. My respiratory system is stuffed and stressed, my muscles hurt, my joints ache, and my skin is overly sensitive (happens whenever I get a bad cold or the flu). I tried so hard to not get sick with all of this crap going around--I even made two of my patients wear masks earlier this week! But here I am, and I have to get up at 4:30am tomorrow morning so I can go do a 17 hour shift at work followed by leaving for class five hours after my shift ends, driving two hours, sitting through 8 hours of class, driving another two hours, getting kids, driving home, and getting everyone to bed. I don't feel as though I can handle all... or maybe any...of this right now.

I am overwhelmed with the stuff in my life--trying for months to get insurance for the kids just to finally be told TODAY that my county is not served by the company I have been working with (I cried on the phone with the insurance representative), I have hundreds of dollars in medical bills as a result of all of that. I am nervous about the ridiculous drive I'll be doing for school, plus the work hours that may not allow adequate sleep around my class day. I am so far behind on house work it makes me want to either throw my entire house out or throw up because there's no way I'll ever get it all done. Every errand I make, I have to bring two kids with me...which meant I had to go through the lines and metal detectors and stairs TWICE today because once I'd gotten everyone back and buckled in the car after visiting the county treasurer's office, I then realized I had left the paper that I'd gone there to get in the first place up on the treasurer's counter! Go figure.

My phone doesn't even charge, so John is coming over to sit here for a few minutes while the kids are asleep so I can run to Walmart and buy an alarm clock since I won't be able to use my phone's. (this is actually a pretty big deal that he is willing to do this). Ugh.

Cheerios are ground into the floor, there is red popsicle on the white couch pillow, and I still have two loads of laundry to fold, one in the dryer, and one still to start tonight. That's after the three loads I just folded and put away. :-|

Amara isn't in bed yet. I haven't slept well in days. This is partly because I've gotten out of work late (got us home after midnight two nights ago), and partly because Amara hasn't slept well which means I'm dealing with screaming, crying, and kicking. Which is fine, but sleep is a good idea, too.

Yeah. Oh, and I feel totally gross about my body. I hate being fat. And then I hate myself because I am not working out and I'm not starving myself. So I guess I deserve to be fat, but then I think, I DON'T deserve to be fat. I breastfed my two kids! Mom's who nurse aren't supposed to stay FAT after giving BIRTH!

Whatever. I'm in such a rotten mood I don't even care right now. Totally overwhelmed and not happy with any tax or healthcare system available to me right now. Childcare. That's another issue which I will leave alone right now.

Speaking of which, I need to stop my rant so that I can get Amara to bed before John gets here and I get into trouble for her being up before he gets here. God forbid that should happen, because I don't know what might come out of my mouth if he dares complain...

Love,
Rachel

I cried.

I cried. And not just the "wipe-away-a-tear" cry, but the downright "sniffling and holding onto my best friend for dear life" sort of cry. There's only one patient I have ever cried over before in my life, and she was a beautiful baby girl who had third degree burns and whose name the babysitter didn't even know.

Going to the call, I told Lee that I wondered if this would be a difficult call for me or not. It was the first domestic violence call that has happened to fall on my shift. I don't dwell on these things though, and I dismissed the thought as soon as I said it so I could focus on what I may or may not need to do, wondering what the injuries would be if any at all.

She stepped up into my ambulance, a girl around my age. Her blond hair matted with blood and dirt, her legs streaked with red that dripped onto her sneakers that in an unexpected way actually matched the cocktail dress she was wearing. Her friend was right behind her, demanding to know what her boyfriend did.

It was her arm and wrist that were sliced from the glass door. As I opened a bottle of sterile water, I rhetorically asked the cop if they were detaining the guy. I wasn't impressed with his answer and I informed him in no questionable terms that he had better hold on to that guy or I might just leave my ambulance to do so. Punk.

I was doing ok, but I could tell I had better shut the inner Rachel off quickly because my hands started to shake as I poured the water onto a towel. Soon enough, it was just her and I. We chatted and I wasted no time explaining to her that I left my marriage because of domestic abuse. She grabbed my hand and interrupted herself to tell me that she was really, really glad that I was the one with her because she needed to hear what I was telling her. She talked while I tied linen around her body in an attempt to keep her arm together. I told her to not move her arm, and to keep her wrist bent because any movement was causing her skin and fat to pull away from her body like nothing I have seen before. She thanked us over and over as she removed her ring.

I knew time was ticking before I started to feel again, so I quickly gave the nurse a report and got the signatures I needed after getting to the hospital. Lee caught me outside the patient's room and asked the dreaded question, if I was ok or not. I looked at him and I think he said "no" before I could say anything and then it just came crashing down. Somehow, I got outside...maybe without anyone noticing, or maybe with everyone noticing. I didn't really care. Somehow, the computer was moved out of my hands and to another location, and I buried my face into my arms. He held me while I couldn't say anything, then I curled myself into the passenger seat of the ambulance. I really just wanted to curl up in the ditch and die under the moonlight, moving on into Jesus' arms, never to experience pain again.

After I finished my paperwork, he came back and got the computer to finish getting what I needed so I wouldn't have to go inside. By that time, I was doing better though. In an attempt to console me, he told me that the boyfriend was indeed being detained and things were going to be worked out, and I got myself strong enough to move forward.

I said goodbye and good luck to her, watching as the doctor put stitch after stitch into her flesh. Then, I got back into my ambulance and we drove away...

I cried again as I wrote this. You see, I never bled and I have no physical scars, but I know the sound of things being broken. I understand what it's like to move yourself or your beloved little one out of the way quickly, before you are broken too. I still feel sick when I hear certain words or when some people get too close to me. I was not crying for her. She will get out of that relationship and she will be ok. I am ok, too, but sometimes it still hurts, and sometimes I get tired of being strong. Sometimes, I just want to beat the daylights out of him for everything I went through...but even that isn't what makes me cry.

Yes, I grieve what happened for so long. I grieve the fact that I believe in marriage and it was taken away from me. I grieve the thought that my children will not grow up in a home with both parents living in it. But this isn't what makes me weep. Lee told me at one point while I sat in the ambulance outside the hospital that this would never happen to me again, that no one would ever treat me like that again. I doubt he realized it, but that is exactly why I cry. I cry because I want to be worth someone's forever promise. I want to be safe and not have my guard up. I want to never, ever be hurt like that again. And I am afraid that the people who I know won't hurt me will walk out of my life and I will be left fighting for survival again. Completely illogical, I know, but my heart is still tender and I am only accepting a bright future from here on out in life. My standards are very high and I will not, will not be hurt again like that.

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and the rivers, they will not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be scorched; the flames will not even burn you. 

-Isaiah 43:2

A Thousand Fireflies Deep

Ya know what? I am happy. I don't mean "count all of your trials joy" sort of happy, but the real sort of happiness that you experience at your core. The kind that can't be shaken because even when you get an unexpected bill, you find the contents of a toothpaste tube squeezed out onto the counter, or your ex-husband puts your mind through a blender, that happy part of you isn't touched. It's in a place all of its own at the center of your heart, pumping joy throughout every artery in your body.

Joy unshakeable. Peace unquenchable. Hope with wings like an eagle.

It started with love like a firefly...

Obedience and understanding opened my door to the outside. It wasn't getting "rid" of someone that changed my life; it was finally realizing that God had something different in store for me than where I was, and that part of Him loving me is allowing justice to happen in my life and to stop the oppression. Only once I was willing to break out of that bondage in faith, not knowing what the future would hold or what survival may entail, was I able to begin to breathe again and start to feel the hand of God again. You see, He will not touch us unless we let him.

It took a while to get to the door even after I began to run for it. It was like finding your way through a dark garage that is piled high with stuff, boxes and shelves making a winding maze, and in my case, a labyrinth. Your adrenaline pushes you to be as fast as possible in your escape, but carrying and protecting two small and vulnerable children along the way slows you down as you elbow your way through the mess and pull their faces close to your chest. The thing about a dark labyrinth is that you don't know when it will end, you are unsure of the correct route that will lead to the end, and you don't anticipate all of the debilitating obstacles you bump into along the way before you get to the end. But eventually, it does end and you can begin to dust yourself off, put band-aids on your wounds, and watch the purple of a bruise fade away as you heal.

Once that door opened though, I was able to step out and into the beautiful night. Fresh air, a million stars hovering overhead, and a thousand fireflies deep. Everywhere you look, you see the twinkling and memorizing beating of tiny beads of light, like crystals against the midnight darkness. Like a firefly, it's that love that gently touches you, surrounds you silently, and gives you space as it dances along side of you. It moves with you, and becomes part of you as your eyes process the light it gives. It's peaceful and fluid. There to illuminate, remind you of beauty, and protect you from the night. And if you should ever forget that love is there, it will radiate again and remind you in its lullaby way, a thousand fireflies deep.

Working it out by writing.

It's getting to me. Normally, I just pick myself up every morning and begin the new day. I feel positive regardless of what happened in the hours prior. Lately, though, not so much. It's a combination of things, I think: the mountains of paperwork that need filling out (divorce stuff, loan stuff, kids' health insurance, etc.) which never gets worked on, the continual cycles of keeping a house running (thank God Amara is in underpants during the days now!), the desire to do so many things but the inability to actually make them happen...

Oh, and then the other stuff lately. Like picking up body parts, being covered in other peoples' blood, running call after call after call for hours and hours and hours on end, and then not saying anything when a man asks if his wife is dead while he himself has tubes and wires and other things going into and coming out of his own body after a horrific car accident. Or maybe talking to a wife while her husband lies there, completely unresponsive. Or maybe knowing enough to not look at the remaining members of a family after a suicide. Yeah. Maybe that stuff is getting to me. I have had more than my share lately. :-\

People, there are bigger things in my life than a failed marriage. I had years to grieve the loss that I knew was coming. I left back at the end of January, was it? I am in a much, much better place now than I was then (which still grieves me to realize--it should definitely be the other way around and I still hate that I had a marriage full of garbage. Marriage should be something beautiful, but that's another post altogether). When you see me stressed out now, it's not because I don't have a husband. It's not because I am any more of a single mom than I was before, because in reality, I was even more so of a single mom up until the beginning of January when John started really picking up the whole "dad" thing (and I am very thankful that he does a pretty decent job now!).

If I look like a I need a hug, it's not because I am missing John or am having second thoughts about not being married. It's because I am human, like you. I get frustrated when I can't EVER get everything done that I need to. I get drained when my two beautiful toddlers need my constant attention for what seems to be all day and all night. I get needy when I feel like there is no space that is just mine--just like every other mom who can't even go to the bathroom or get a shower alone. :) I feel upset when I have dealt with more people who either are dead or who are going to be dead because of tragic circumstances than a person should have to encounter in a month. I am lonely when I have barely had any adult interactions for a while...and I am sure that these things I feel are not so far from what you feel sometimes, too.

Thank God for the friends who pray for me. The friends who send me encouraging, beautiful, inspired by God messages online even as they walk through their own difficult circumstances. The friends who talk my ear off about their own lives so I can just listen to something different for a while. The friends who randomly show up at my house at 1am with frozen pizza, strawberries, and movies. And then stay until 4am...because even if I am tired the next day, I can't tell you how awesome it is to feel so refreshed mentally and emotionally! The ones who come and help me clean even if it is kinda stressful while it's happening (thanks, Grammie).

In case I haven't told you lately, I covet your hugs. And your smiles. And your laughter. And your talking. And your listening. And the just-being-with-you.

It is a wonderful world, and we must not let the weariness or difficulty of it get us down, because truly, lives change instantaneously and it's just not worth it to take life for granted.

Love Exuberantly

This is what I think...

You should hold your babies more, and never stop kissing them and telling them that you love them. You shouldn't be afraid to rock them to sleep, to let them get messy, or to let them snuggle you in the morning before you get out of bed. It doesn't matter if your floor isn't always spotless or the clean laundry always folded. It does matter that your children know they are loved unconditionally with an agape love. It does matter that you touch them and hold them and giggle with them and smile at them. Remember that the purest form of you is who you are when you're with your children. Let them know that they are the best thing in the whole wide world. Love those children, and make sure they know it. Don't ever hold back; love exuberantly.

This is what I think...

You should spend more time with that person who you are bound to. Whether it's a best friend, a girl friend, or a husband, be with them. You don't know when an accident will happen, cancer will strike, or something unforeseen takes them from you. Cherish your time. Love them. Stay up late talking, watching funny movies, and listening to the rain. Don't be afraid to experience everything possible that life offers with that person. Take every opportunity to love on that person, to fix every problem that hinders your relationship, and to serve that person with bounding joy. Learn to love better, and practice it. Do not take them for granted or take lightly the memories you have the opportunity to create together. Hold on to that person, the one that you can't live without, or at least that you don't ever, ever, ever want to live without. Love that person, and make sure they know it. Don't hold back; love exuberantly.

This is what I think...

I don't know what you felt when you got that phone call, and I won't pretend that I felt your fear. I do know, though, that I will hold your unconscious baby, sing to him, and love him for you when you can't do it yourself. I will do everything that is absolutely possible to give life to your baby, no matter what it costs me in the process. I will always be sure that I know what I'm doing, that everything is ready, and that your child comes first when my scanner goes off and I step into that ambulance. You don't need to fear, because when I get there, he becomes my baby too, and there is nothing stronger than a mama's heart. Know that if anything ever happens; if I can't get our baby to the place where he should be, or if things go wrong and something happens, I will be sobbing too. You may not see it, but I am breaking inside, too.

I won't pretend that I understand what it must be like to see your  unresponsive husband lying on a backboard with blood pooling everywhere. I do know though, that I feel part of your pain when I want him to wake up and he doesn't. When I know that he may never open his eyes again. When I know that you are standing there watching him die while I try to give him life. It's not easy as I gently tell you to hold his hand and kiss him, to talk to him and reassure him. What I am really saying is that you need to tell him goodbye and hold on to him for these minutes that he is still here for. Know that I am doing everything I can, though. Part of a team, I am still watching everyone and everything. I will speak up on his behalf, and I will make sure he is treated correctly. I will talk to him by name as I push oxygen into his lungs, and I will be ready to do everything possible to get him home. But if that doesn't happen, know that I am standing behind you, and that I wanted him to live, too.

This is what I think.
Seize every opportunity possible to love exuberantly. Don't wait for tomorrow, for tomorrow may never come.

Safe in your arms

My face is pressed against your chest, burying my ear, cheek, eye, and half of my lips in the softness of your skin and warmth of your body. I listen to you breathe and the steady beating of your heart. There is nothing else around me in this moment except for you. I love this, but it is not what I love most.

Your arms are surrounding me, and I am safe. The encompass me, strong and unwavering. I can feel your muscles as they press into my back and shoulders, your hands as they settle in the curve of my waist and the side of my rib cage under my arm. You are blocking me into our world, turning my face to you and using your body to shield me from the outside. I can trust you.

Nothing needs to be said. We are just there, entangled and inseparable. I can finally rest and let down my guard, because you will carry me. For a moment, I don't have to be strong. Breathing in you, not fighting your arms, knowing that things really are ok...for right now, anyway.

And then I wonder, why would I leave? Why would I willingly choose to step away from the sanctuary you create from me? I don't want the turmoil of the world, the anxiety, the stress of constantly being on high alert and continually pulling from a reservoir of strength that is beginning to run dry. So why don't I stay?

Finally, I am loved with an unselfish, pure love. To be legitimately able to let my walls disappear because you are worthy of my trust. I believe that really you won't hurt me and that I won't ever have to protect myself from you...This is what I love most: being safe in your arms.

Becoming Introspective

I am finding myself becoming more and more introverted with my thoughts and feelings. John would read this and immediately tell me that I can tell him everything, etc., etc....and sure, I could. But some feelings I just don't want to. Some thoughts, I just don't want to. And really, I have no one to unload all of that on. It's a burden to carry alone, but there's so much trust involved in unloading all of your thoughts and feelings onto someone and I just don't have that any more.

To be willing to bare your soul to someone, first he can't be involved in whatever you're unloading. Or if he is, there has to be a way to be neutral-ish. Some sort of separation. Secondly, he has to truly care. It's far too scary to be that vulnerable to a person who may not care about your situation or to not even care if you tell him at all about it. Thirdly, he has to want to protect you. This makes you feel safe when you tell him, even if he doesn't have the ability to protect you (and most likely you will tell him that under penalty of death he is not to do anything in an attempt to "fix" anything you're going through, except to bring you good root beer and chocolate and to keep passing you tissues). Forth, he must have the ability to respond. Pillows and dogs don't count.

There is a unique sort of solace found in introspection, though. Dramatic effects are sure to be left out. There is no risk of a trust breach. There are no opinions but your own...which sometimes works against you since there is no one to correct your wrong thoughts.

Either way, I am becoming more this way...and am thinking from others' reactions that I should expedite the becoming so that I am there entirely.

it is worth it

It's painful. It's drawn out. It's lonely. Oh is it lonely. It's confusing. It's frustrating. It's angering.

But because I am me, once I am bound, I can't be released by my own will. Part of me is yours forever. We could not talk for ten years and it would be the same way--a piece of me, carefully packaged and branded with your name, just sitting and waiting for you in the depths of my being.

So here I will be. Different, yes. Numb, scared, unsure...but always caring. Always putting myself out there for you even when I know I will just be met with pain. Don't think this means you can use me, though. As time goes on, my protective wall will regenerate itself and it won't be the same for you. You will look into my eyes and see the sadness and you will know that it's now my reaction to you...you won't see any regret though, because I don't have any. And you will still see me smile, because...you still make me happy. It's weird like that.

All of this is worth the pain, because the bond is still beautiful. Mistreated, maybe. Forgotten about, probably, at least for now. But I'm ok right this second.

And I think it, you, is worth it.

Plumb music video "Taken"

dancing with the rain

She stood outside, surrounded by rain with her face turned upward, staring into the overwhelming ominous sky. Shades of grey, moving and churning above her, but at the same time around her and within her as well. The rain was like a blanket, hovering over her and wrapping itself around her and through her as she stood there. Her red dress clung to her, sticking to her thighs and resting at her knees. Her bare legs cool as the water beat against them and ran down into the black high heels that tied around her ankles. Paralyzing, the dance of the storm created a new world for her. One that was safe and personal and beautiful.

The ground underneath her began to turn to mud, pooling water that begged to reach up her shoes as her heart began to beat in rhythm to the thunder. She became part of the storm as it swept over and through her, deafening her to anything but the wind and the melodic dropping of water. Each raindrop becoming a prism of grey hughs, reflecting her spirit as they landed on her body and that of the earth around her. Breathing deeply, she could taste the moisture in the air, and could feel the wetness on her lips and tounge. And as she felt the dance of the rain, as the rhythm captivated her spirit and body, she decided to give in.

So she reached down. Her dark hair, hanging in locks, dripped forward over her shoulder. And time stood still for that moment, as she undid the tie around her ankles and removed her shoes. Stepping into the cold, soft earth, she breathed again, and her breaths took on the wind to match her heart's rhythm of the rain.

Wild, untamed, and overflowing with life. She danced with the rain.

Summer Nights

Summer nights were magical. The taste of fire in the air. The sound of crickets late into the night. We would lay in the field, grass, or on the trampoline and watch for shooting stars. Trying to pick out constellations, we would always fall back on the Big and Little Dippers, thinking about the Underground Railroad and how exciting it would have been to be runaway slaves.

I remember leaning out the second story windows of our white farmhouse--looking out and around while our knees anchored us onto our beds that we were sure would keep us safe from falling to our deaths (dramatic as that would have been). Sometimes, we would sneak out one of my windows and onto the porch roof with hearts pounding as we thought of what would happen if we got caught. We were, of course, presumed to be sleeping during these midnight adventures.

We whispered to each other while leaning out our windows, my older sister and I. It was glorious, somehow, to be young and have the most rebellious thing you do be to lean as far as you can out your window and turn on and off a flashlight in an attempt to attract fireflies. I would watch the moon for hours back then, always keeping my bed located near that window so I could think about who else was looking at the same sky and same moon and same stars that I was right at that exact moment.

Hide And Go Seek in the dark. Sardines as the pitch black night enrobed us like a big cozy blanket. Racing barefoot through seemingly miles of untouched grass. It was everything childhood should be.

And here I am today, still enchanted by fireflies, dancing flames against a pitch black sky, and listening to an orchestra of peepers...because everything in life looks better when viewed under the moonlight.

Drowning

I'm drowning and it'd be a lot easier to just go under rather than keep fighting to stay afloat. Unfortunately, no matter how many times I take a breath in, it's always air that hits my lungs instead of liquid. It's that dream that you can't wake up from. And death by water is my biggest fear.

I'm trapped in limbo, every moment reliving the same thing over and over and over again. My lungs burning for oxygen, me taking a breath and relaxing at the thought of knowing I'll be able to rest in just a moment, and then realizing that it's air and not water and that no, relaxation isn't coming.

Sometimes, I notice something beautiful under the water, or my head breaks through the silence and I'm dazzled by the sunlight sending crystals everywhere. In these moments, I blissfully forget about drowning, and I laugh and smile as I enjoy the radiance of the world around me.

But mostly, I just want to drown. I am sick of fighting and never getting ahead. I am tired. My lungs hurt. And I am surrounded by darkness. No matter how many times I breathe under water though, nothing happens.

Please God, wake me up from this dream.

...it's beating again.

It's the moment when your heart starts beating on it's own again after having CPR done on it. You hurt from the efforts to save your life; after all, having to save your life did involve you dying. Now you have a chance at a new life...but you still have the same body...with the same problems...you're in the same location, with the same people, and the same past. But somehow, in some tiny way, it's different. And your heart is beating again.

Maybe you got lost in the abyss of time when your heart wasn't beating, or maybe you got so used to someone else mechanically depolarizing your cardiac cells that you forgot what it's like to have them depolarize themselves because of something in you that's intrinsic, automatic, and independent of anyone else. Either way, you are so aware now of the thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump that's going on. Your hand covers half of your neck, captivated by the warm pulsation of life.You lay in the stillness of that moment, no one else able to hear the beating, no one else able to feel the movement.

You're breathing again, and it's awe inspiring and terrifying at the same time. You don't know if you should feel this. And though you're elated at the freedom and rest it brings, you don't know where to go from here. So you don't go. You lay there, listening to your heart beat its own joyous rhythm, feeling your blood dance beneath your fingers...strong, steadfast, and independent of anyone else.

Fears

I wonder what I'm giving up. It's part of what keeps me back.

Will I be loved again? Never feel the pain of birth again? Listen to my own laughter beat against the walls? Admire my own accomplishments? Always rent movies because I am afraid to sit alone?

...am I afraid to be alone?

What if no one is there to hold me when I die and I'm the person that the paramedic gets excited to "work," only to find that I've been laying there for three days already?

I didn't want to be a statistic.

I didn't want any of this.

...and I am afraid.

you told me to write...

Sometimes loving someone means you sacrifice yourself for that person. I'm not talking about letting him have the last cookie or running outside when it's -15 to turn the car on. I mean the gut wrenching soul bearing moment when you give up what you both want because it's what right for the other person.

Sometimes loving someone means saying no instead of yes. I can only wish that I had known that years ago, that someone had taught me along the way and before we got to this point. But I have learned now. And I love you. And I will love you even if what you want is for me to be selfish and you hate what I am doing to you.

Funny, when two people truly love each other, they will only agree to things if it's in the other person's best interest--never if it's in their own. So I will tell you that I need to stop, when really, I am talking about you. I will tell you that I need space and time to figure things out when really, really what I want is to crawl onto your lap and have you hold me and kiss me and never, ever let go of me.

You are like a piercing to me. You own a part of me, and even if I remove you, the scar is still there, reminding me that it's yours. Others may not see it...but I will know it's there, and I will subconsciously think about it every time I run my hand over my skin, caressing the scar without even realizing I'm doing it. Other times, I may purposely trace the outline with my finger, willing myself to feel the pain again because feeling the love again is worth the pain.

I cherish being loved by you. I have fallen in love with being loved with no strings attached and no expectations. To let go of that is to cut one of my jugular veins...no matter how delicate of an instrument I use, no matter how much cleaning I do before hand or how careful I am, the result will be the same and I may bleed to death in the process.

But that's a risk I am willing to take. Because I love you, too.

I want something different. Something that in many ways might be easier. But...I love you, and I am going to stand for you even when you aren't standing for yourself right now. I will carry you, even if it's something you won't be able to see by me doing by this. I will fight myself from clinging to you, and you will let me go because you will think it's what I need.

Know that you are loved. You always will be. Forever, and ever, and ever. No matter what, I never stop loving.

I promise. I do.

"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart." 

(Jeremiah 29:11-13)

THAT sort of day.

It's one of those days. You know, the one where you put on your sexiest bra and wear a thong just because some part of your life, no matter how minuscule or private, needs to feel good about itself.

I am a grouch. I don't want to be a mean mom because of it, so I'm going to do my complaining here and then pick myself up and move on.

First off, I'm freakin' tired. Really, does a person need to stay up until 1am? Especially if she is going to get up with her kids multiple times a night and then be up for the day by 0730? I am thinking not so much unless she's doing CPR on her neighbor. That's the main thing. If I wasn't so tired, I could handle life a lot better.

Somehow, being tired and not having life go the way you actually want it to go makes all of the little things seem like big things. Like the fact that I don't own a pair of jeans that look cute on me. Good heavens, why is it so hard to find a pair of pants that fit a ghetto booty and smaller waist? Impossible around Upstate NY, apparently. So then one could deduce that I need to lose weight. Well, that's obvious. But instead of doing what I need to do to accomplish that (which I really do want to do), I am eating cold, leftover pizza with my 2-year-old for breakfast. Yes, mommy is on a roll today.

Speaking of Upstate NY, why do we even live here? It's dark, freezing, has the worst tax rates in the COUNTRY, and one of the highest (if not the highest) depression rates.

Depression reminds me that all of the people I know are depressed. I want to help them but can't. I hate having my hands tied.

At least now that I'm on the topic of other people, I can get the focus off of myself.

So dear depressed people in the world, I am going to work on saving you today. All while wearing my sexy bra and a thong.

More than 18-months

My Facebook ticker just told me that I have been "providing mama's milk for 1 year and 7 months" today.

That means that my beautiful girl is 19-months-old now.

I want to weep.

I want to celebrate.

I am so glad that she's mine. I honestly believe God chose me to be the luckiest mother in all of the world. I don't know why he did, but boy, am I glad!

<3

Quick Updates

Monkey is beautiful, seriously. Our ultrasound that I upped to March 19th showed us that. The technician was wonderful and took the time to check all sorts of things, not just look for the stomach. It made me feel a LOT better. Unfortunately, the recording system was still down on the machine so we didn't end up getting a video, but he did do a 3D for us and --wow-- we have a beautiful boy in there. He is so perfect.

At first, the tech couldn't find the stomach and when he did, he said that it wasn't the shape that he'd LIKE to see, but that he didn't see anything else indicating a problem. It wasn't until our appointment with Deb on April 6th that we heard the radiologist cleared everything. Hooray! What a relief to know my pregnancy symptoms are just that, even if they are a little weird.

Monkey moved to be head down on April 1st. You'd think that I was engaged at that point, how low he is. I do think that he is engaged now though, and did so about two weeks ago. I can palpate his head right in my pelvis, and the pressure I feel on my cervix every step I take! It does make me a little nervous knowing that he's so low so soon--this doesn't usually happen with boys or with a 2nd pregnancy until close to when the baby's born. :-\ Part of me is still convinced that there's no way I'll go on my due date let alone any earlier, but...all of these things make me wonder. My younger sister's baby was born 4 weeks early and my older sister who's due 4 weeks ahead of Monkey had her water break about 2 weeks ago...So am I going to follow my own pattern, or will I be following the "boy" pattern in my family?!

Oh, and I've been having contractions. I've had a lot of braxton hicks this entire pregnancy, but I'm pretty much going into them every time I walk since Saturday evening. Only a few have been painful, but I can tell they're pushing him down because when I had a good one last night, I could feel a lot of pressure on my cervix until it was over.

To top off all of my physical things, I'm having drama at work. It's a long story, but I was told that I shouldn't be talking to HR about anything. Yup. That's me, Ms. Trouble Maker because I breastfeed my child and want things to be fair for all employees. Ha. With both of these things plus my regular stress from not being able to keep up on basic houshold chores and such, we're planning on talking to Deb about whether I should continue to work or not when we see her on May 3. I have a lot of emotions about that, but not enough time to write them all down so it will have to be another post.

In short, my pregnancy continues to fly by and my almost-18-month-old daughter continues to become more beautiful every day.

To Do Lists

I can't seem to keep track of how far along I am, so I try to look at my calendar where every Wednesday's box includes a handwritten number, one digit higher than the previous week's. Even though I see this calendar every day at work, I was still shocked to see a "27" written for this week. And then again when I looked at it this morning because I couldn't remember if I was 26 or 27-weeks along. Yeah, it's definitely 27.

That means if I was to give birth "on time" (which won't happen), I'll be doing so 13 weeks from now. That just doesn't seem possible...I have a ridiculous amount of things to still do before Monkey's arrival and besides, I sense no impending doom or delivery, so...it's easy to ignore (save the fact that I can't reach anything or get off of our couch by myself because my belly's so big and also that I have to cross my legs and pray not to pee every time I cough or sneeze). But he's coming, I tell myself. I know this in my mind.

Frankly, I need to get my butt in gear. I'm exhausted, sick, have a nursing toddler, work full time, and have a house and husband to deal with. This just doesn't leave any time in my schedule for baby-preparation things so I'm left to dream and mentally list what needs to be done instead of actually do it. Too bad my thoughts can't osmotically make their way into my house and accomplish what needs to be done for me. ;-)

I also spend time thinking about the things I want to do someday when I'm able to. These things are more fun and I get a bit more excited thinking about them, so without further ado, here are my want and need "To Do" lists:

Things I want to do

• Start a Play blog featuring information, ideas, toy reviews, and giveaways written by ME--the Recreation Therapist. :-) Just think of all of the awesome, wholesome toys and educational products I could get my hands on for my own kiddos and to pass on to other people since my house wouldn't be big enough to keep everything. :-)
• Create and enter recipes into magazine contests every month.
• Make a baby scrapbook for LoveBug and Monkey.
• Quilt
• Landscape my house--bah, it looks so...ugly.
• Play piano every day
• Record a lullabye CD for my children

Things I need to do

• Organize my house (next 10 weeks)
• Clean my house (next 10 weeks)
• Finish getting needed items for Baby Monkey (next 12 weeks)
• Find summer clothes for LoveBug (next 6 weeks, then yard sales after that)
• Stop gaining weight so fast (immediately). I'm going to be a balloon and have a ton to loose after giving birth if I keep going at the rate I am.
• Make and freeze more food (next 8 weeks)

Would someone hold back that clock, please, and then just fast-forward my life when I'm ready for it?

Where?

God,

What direction do you have for me? I am unsure, yet filled with hope. I need doors to close, and only the ones you want me to walk through to open. When decisions involve my family and money, it's much more difficult to choose a path less guarunteed than another...but then, is even a "regular" job stable?

Speak to me. I need to know how to proceed, and I feel that I need to start the process of these multiple income streams sooner than later so that I have a river by the time we need it. Open the floodgates for me, Lord. Show me the way.

Rachel