Humpbacks and Hunchbacks

A few things.  Please pardon that I am using bullets.

• Baby product reviews are useless.  How can one website say a specific stroller is crap, but it is still voted Product Of The Year by another site? I've decided Derek! and I are getting the one that goes the fastest when we try it out at the store during our registry.
• A baby boy outfit made me cry today.  I tried to hide it from Derek! and I think I did pretty well.  It had Peter Rabbit on it and reminded me of a set of books I bought for Dylan when he was a baby.  He would not sit still through those books for the life of me.  Lordy, I love babies.
• Why is cereal so delicious and am I meeting my daily diet requirements if I live off it? Cause I'm gonna.
• I don't know that I would have made it this far in my pregnancy without my counselor.  He's made so many things that should be obvious clear and I wish I could write him a thank-you note without sounding as crazy as I thought I originally was when I went in to see him in the beginning.
• Putting distance between my parents and myself has been the best thing I have ever done.  I've done it before, but it was for a singular specific reason.  A disagreement or exchanging of words.  This time, I did it to spare myself from terrible disappointments.  I feel so much more guarded now. Safe and less vulnerable to having my heart broken anymore.
• We might move.  We are about 92% certain it is going to happen.  The details of when are still being worked out, and I pray that it is after I deliver, but we have to seize opportunities as they present themselves, and that means I must be adaptable.  Less rigid.  We haven't told Dylan yet.  He is a chronic worrier. It's still too soon.
• 4th grade is around the corner.  Dylan has become a young man in the span of a summer.  He is so kind and well-intentioned.  Even when he slips up and lets his emotions get the best of him, once the storm calms, he always apologizes for his behavior afterward.  What a beautiful soul this boy has. What a sweet sweet boy.
• Derek! and I have decided on a name.  I'm not going to announce it before the baby is born.  Unfortunately, I feel as if that is something I allowed my parents to ruin for me.  I've learned that I don't have to let them have that grip on me since then, but the damage has been done and I can't bear to open something this important up to being insulted again. Having a baby, making the decision to get pregnant, being pregnant, and preparing yourself, your family, and your household for all of the upcoming changes is a very emotional time.  I've learned that it's a beautiful process and having consistent support and understanding from those you love is of the utmost importance during this time.  I don't want to associate the birth of my second son with any negative feelings or emotions when I look back on this time.  Consistency, support, and understanding is not one of my parent's strengths.  
• I'm roughly the size of a whale. And the sweat, oh GOD, the sweat. It's about 325 degrees outside with 780% humidity and there is a chance I will melt if not constantly in the air conditioning.

Derek! is home from work and I need his attention. All for now.

23 Weeks

I'm over halfway finished with this pregnancy already, and I can only say one thing that I am feeling for sure : my body is not my own anymore.  There are mornings where I wrestle the blankets, pillows, cats, and husband to get out of bed only to look down and say "whose boobs are these?" or "my legs! where are MY legs?" 

Of course, the rewards FAR outweigh the trials.  We had our second set of ultrasounds today and the baby is growing so fast I can barely keep up.  It is all feeling very real to me.  It is hard to feel prepared.  Mostly because we aren't yet. We still have to get a crib, finish clearing out the baby room, and get more clothes and such.  It's not easy, and is - by far - the most stressful part of pregnancy.  I have bought several outfits already because I simply cannot live without them, they are so cute.

Knowing that we are having a boy has made this journey a little less stressful.  It is much easier to commit to buying something for him with the knowledge that there isn't the possibility of having to return it.  But also, having a boy is truly the most exciting news we've been given so far. Derek! and I feel so blessed to be making this addition to our family.

Being pregnant has reminded me of so many things I have hoped for my family.  The unconditional love and acceptance that I have dreamed of my children growing up with is a reality now and I just need to wrap my head around it.  Dylan has done a great job adjusting to all of the changes - going from being just he and I to being part of a family.  I am so thankful for his resilience and patience.  I know it has been hard for him, but I think it's nice to know we got here together and he always has me to lean on, never to judge him, and to protect him from the things that may seem uncertain. 

I'm excited to meet the baby boy.  I'm nervous for all the unknowns, but optimistic that love will guide us.  I feel so blessed to have a husband who accepts Dylan and I for who we are, all we lack, and all we have to give.  I'm happy we are enough. 

The Dark Parts

It's really hard to be honest about who your parents really are when you're a kid.  Mostly because you don't see it. You don't see them as people, with personalities and shortcomings. Instead, they are these towering statues of legs and arms and mouths and booming voices.  I don't know when they become people.  Now that I am an adult with a child of my own, I know - because I remember - how Dylan sees me and I try so hard to keep face.  Now that I am grown with a child of my own, so many of the things my parents did that I didn't understand are making more sense.  So many of the things about my childhood that seemed normal I know, now, weren't.

It's difficult to accurately reflect upon your childhood sometimes without bringing light to the things your parents did or didn't do.  It is even more difficult to keep from hurting their feelings when they are already hyper-sensitive and defensive about their parenting and your upbringing.  That is the situation I find myself in now.  Who am I honest to?  The grown up version of myself says 'to thine own self be true'.  The mousy little girl with nickels in her pocket says to keep it shut.

I've always heard that we are what the past has made us, a product of our upbringing, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree....But I have always been the naysayer, standing firm in the idea that you can shed your past, climb out of your childhood like an exoskeleton, and march - onward and upward - as if it never happened.

I know now, that I was lying.  I can't walk away from it. I can't pretend my childhood never took place or turn a blind eye.  Not while still remaining honest with myself, and that is all I want. Honesty. Within myself. Peace.

So many people have had such awful, earth-shattering experiences as children.  Periods of time that meant they would never be the same again.  You can see emptiness in their eyes or a flat tone in their voice and you know they are damaged. Beyond repair.  I don't feel that I am one of those people.  I like to maintain a little perspective on things and say that I turned out okay.

But, I don't think that it was because of my upbringing, rather in spite of it.

My family consists of 5 kids.  We all have such tremendously different stories it's hard to understand how any of them intertwine, but we all find some commonality in distance from our parents.  My two older sisters often get clumped together because their ages are very close. So close that they were in the same year in school.  People mistook them for twins.  But they are very different. 

One is married with three daughters.  She lives in the same town as my parents and I, but my parents have never met the 2 younger children and wouldn't recognize the oldest if they saw her.  They have no relationship whatsoever and haven't for several, several years.

The other sister is also married with one daughter.  She lives about an hour away with her family.  She talks to my parents on an as-needed basis about holidays or upcoming events, but does not go out of her way - in any way - to have a relationship with them.

Then there is me. Our relationship is complicated and tumultuous and not beneficial to either party in any way.  I speak to my mom almost every day.  I am the only adult child in the family who does.  And I believe I do it because I am a masochist.  A majority of the things my mother says to me don't make sense.  She expresses concern when things are falling apart for me, but only from a distance.  She is insincere.  She is generally cold and lacks empathy.  Our relationship is not a mother-daughter relationship.  It is very forced for me.  I work very, very hard at this relationship.  I know that it is more important to me than it is to her.  My mother hurts my feelings almost every time I have a conversation with her, and I have given up on trying to prevent it from happening.

My little brother was adopted.  He is 21 now, and speaks to my parents once every few months.  Generally, my mom will track him down and talk to him long enough to gain a little peace of mind and then ignore him for a few months until the whole cycle starts again.  He has been homeless, hospitalized, harassed.  He has been medicated, institutionalized, and searched for.  Poor kid.  He has a form of autism called Asperger's Syndrome, as well as a whole array of other mental disorders.  His biological mother was on drugs and was a schizophrenic.  He isn't far behind.  And he is completely alone.

My little sister was also adopted.  She is 16 and lives at home.  She has lived there the longest, I believe, of all the children.  The rest of us had moved out around her age, or soon after. 

Throughout my childhood, my parents were foster parents.  They took in children whose parents could not care for them properly.  The children lived in our house and my parents took care of them.  I spent a lot of time alone, invisible.  I have very few childhood memories that I can look back upon.  I just can't remember things anymore. I don't know that they are worth remembering anyway. 

I went to school with these kids.  They rode the bus with me and some were even in my class, like real life brothers and sisters.  But they weren't.  They were total strangers to me, sharing my parents.  Only they needed my parents more than I did because their parents were bad people.  The state payed for these kids clothes because sometimes they had none and so, the household was a constant cycle of shopping trips and doctor's appointments and various adults visiting our house while I sat quietly because they weren't there to see me.

I would come home and some of the children would be gone with new ones taking their place.  Sometimes babies, sometimes three babies or two babies and a teenager and a six year old.  Two are related but they don't know each other. Her and her have the same dad but we don't know what that little girl's name is.  We would give them nicknames. I would give them my tee shirts. This one is sharing your room, but she pees on the floor so you have to come get us if she does.

One tried to light our house on fire.
One kept food under her pillow (hot dogs).
One stole everything that wasn't tied down.
One climbed on the roof when no one was watching. twice.

We got to pick our favorite babies and sometimes they would stay longer.  Sometimes the kids would leave in a van and I was so happy because they were so mean, but it was so they could visit their bad parents and then come back to mine.  That weren't really mine.  Rather, ours.

And this is how it was. For years of my life.  As high school wound down for me, my parents weren't taking foster kids any longer, but it was too late.  No one really knew my favorite color or my favorite books.  No one knew the things I was passionate about or what I wanted to study.  They didn't know what I was good at.  What I cared about. What my fears were.  They just didn't.  Because I was invisible.

And, I guess, in a way I still am.

Daily Gratitude

1. My new counselor
2. Motown
3. Metaphors
4. Apologies
5. Optimism

Gratitude

1. Dylan holding my hand while the lady put the IV in at the hospital.

2. The baby's strong little kick-drum heartbeat.

3. Having a job that doesn't make me homicidal. . . every day.

4. Life affirming choices.

5.  Faith.

Raising Tomorrow

There are so many things I want Dylan to know and understand.  The unfortunate thing is that sometimes, life has to teach him instead.  The major roadblock I have met while being his parent is that I cannot always prepare him for things with certainty.  I have always felt like knowledge is empowering in every situation, under any circumstance.  Sending him out into the world without as much information as I can is negligent parenting.

I have found myself in so many situations where the only thing I can think is : "how did this happen? how on EARTH did this happen?" And then I realize that I am tremendously unprepared.  So many things along the way I have missed. Maybe no one taught me.  Maybe I didn't listen. Maybe no one else saw this situation coming either.  I don't want Dylan to feel that way. 

As time goes on, I will most likely learn that just because I am his mother, I cannot protect him from everything.  But I will be damned if I'm not going to try.  

I recently went to Dylan's spring musical.  He had to dress up like a geek. I dreaded going. As I dread going to all school functions. (It's amazing how out-of-place I still feel as an adult)  But, as I sat there listening to all the squeaky-voiced third graders, I couldn't believe he was already in third grade.  I was filled with happiness. I wished I could freeze time forever and be subjected to a lifetime of terribly out-of-tune musical productions in rooms with pushy parents with cameras for the rest of eternity, as long as I could keep him little.

I was so proud of him and who he is. I wish I could keep him with me forever.

I've never been so in love with a geek before.

Easter is next weekend.  This weekend is full of family activities and football games and practices. Slowly, I have stopped complaining.  I am learning to love the hectic family life.  I am learning to accept when things don't happen as I think they should and to see the blessing in togetherness.  I am less spoiled. I am more grateful. It's simpler that way.

I feel myself sometimes sliding my eyes suspiciously at God, knowing there is a lesson in hardship, knowing I have taken so much advantage of things without realizing it.  Every day, I am learning more lessons. Every single day.

"God allows us to experience the low points of life in order to teach us lessons we could not learn in any other way.  The way we learn those lessons is not to deny the feelings but to find the meanings underlying them."  - Stanley Lindquist

"Courage allows the successful woman to fail - and learn powerful lessons from the failure - so that in the end - she didn't fail at all."   - Maya Angelou

The Addition Edition

I couldn't log in to my blog for several months.  Every time I sat down to try, I grew increasingly furious and had to walk away.  Today, something overcame me and I worked on it until I figured it out.  Took me forever.

But so much happens, so quickly.  I feel like I use that line with every entry, but it's the truth. Our family is changing every day.  Some of the changes are tiny, and take a long time to notice.  Like Dylan's new habit of saying 'Thank You' a hundred times for little things.  Some are more functional, like our brand new carpet! 

The more things change, the more settled I have started feeling. Some of the things we've changed were just to make our daily lives more manageable.  We had to find a new home for Gypsy, our dog.  This was one of the most difficult decisions I think I have ever made.  When we got Gypsy, she was malnourished and abused.  We had her just over a year.  In that time, she gained weight and became the best dog.  There were times it was hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel, she was always just so troublesome, but over time she became a fixture in our family.  To think of a day without her tugged at my heart. Gypsy was a cattle dog, genetically programmed to be a herding dog, and our measly yard just wasn't enough for her. She would get out of the yard and run through the neighborhood, me-teary eyed-racing right behind her several times a month. She was too big for our house. She scratched doors, floors, and legs. Gypsy loved us so, and we loved her dearly.  I found so much comfort in her.  Her presence assured me that everything would be ok. Gypsy laid in bed with me every morning. She greeted me at the door at night, laid in the hallway outside the door when I took a bath, under my feet when I ate. I think finding her a new home was hardest on me of anyone.

She went to a man in Texas with 126 acres.  He has had herding dogs all his life and let us know that she'd be loved and cared for.  She rode in his truck with him all the way from Chicago to Texas.  She's an adventure dog now. On her way to big things.

We (reluctantly) stumbled across a new dog just before Gypsy left us.  His name is Henry.  I found him in my parent's yard.  They live along a fairly busy road and it was just a matter of time before he was hit by a car.  I brought him home under the assumption that he had a microchip, however, he did not, so here he sits. Our new little addition.  

There is so much going on these days.  Dylan just started flag-football. He's only had one game, but has done remarkably well.  He is growing so fast.  We went on a short vacation in February to the Smoky Mountains, I have a million photos to post. 

Aside from the carpet and the dog adjustments, there's just one more big thing - Derek! and I are expecting! Yep. I have a tiny baby. inside my belly. right now.

I am due November 19-23. This is especially special because we were married on November 21. What a tremendous blessing. We couldn't be happier.  I can't process everything like I wish I could.  Sometimes I just sit quietly and thank the Lord that my life has evolved the way it has.

Sometimes I look at Dylan sitting calmly and thank the Lord that he has a quiet place to sit calmly.

I look at Derek! and thank the Lord I have someone who loves me without question or restraint.

I thank Him for the dog at my feet.

I thank the Lord for giving me the blessing of pregnancy at a time where something life-affirming was so needed.

I thank Him for having answers, and giving them to me without even having to ask.

"I begin to love this creature, and to anticipate her birth as a fresh twist to a knot, which I not wish to untie"- Mary Wollstonecraft

Keeping Time

When I used to imagine weddings, I imagined a tidy little baby blue bow, wrapped around a white linen napkin with swirly, pink monogrammed initials embroidered gently generations ago by women who dreamed of prince charming wearing petticoats, sitting on a davenport...

That's not what weddings are to me anymore. Weddings have become off-ramps. A day whose sole responsibility is to funnel you away from who you were into who you will be for the rest of your life. It's been romanticized - what hasn't? - into an opportunity to celebrate. It wasn't that for me. I found my wedding to be a deeply personal day for me. I spent a lot of the day reflecting.

I know that wasn't Hallmark's intention. I know I should have been more 'in the moment' at my wedding, but for the life of me I couldn't. It was my day, and I used it to say farewell to who I was and greet who I will be with open arms. While I put on my makeup, my family was swarming around me talking about who would walk with whom down the aisle. I was remembering a day when Dylan and I sat on the floor and ate cheerios out of the box. We watched 'Friends' and drank juice. We wrestled at commercials. He was two.

As guests started arriving, every so often someone-an aunt or a cousin-would stop in to see me and give well wishes. I had a really hard time expressing how I felt because it felt inappropriate. I wasn't nervous to walk down the aisle and marry Derek!. He is my soul mate. I was calm. I just didn't want to let anything slip through my fingers without a deep feeling of gratitude for all of the wonderful things to come.

I thought about the way it felt to be dumped by men. Because I didn't make enough time for them or because we just weren't a fit. I thought about all of the times I felt inadequate, as a mother, as a woman. I thought about all of the times I would look at Dylan and feel so uncertain about our futures. I thought about these things, and I told them goodbye. I graciously came to the place where I let these feelings go, knowing I would never have to feel them again.

Never EVER.

I looked ahead to my life with Derek! and Dylan and I felt so hopeful. It was as if someone silenced a buzz.




The day was overcast, but I didn't notice until the wedding was over. Everything went smooth. It was an intimate affair. I wore my mother's dress and carried my grandmother's handkerchief. I cried throughout the ceremony. I'm still not sure if it was a happy cry for the future or a sad cry for the past. I just knew the journey was changing. I felt ready. I felt beautiful. I felt safe, in a room of people who came to watch happiness blossom. I felt so many things. I was proud and afraid and enormous.

Derek! waved when I entered the room because we hadn't seen each other since the day before. I held my dad's hand and Dylan's hand and walked toward him with their blessings. Dad shook Derek!'s hand. He fumbled a little for words, but managed to find 'Good Luck' somewhere. And then I was there. I was with him and he was with me and - in his bow-tie and vest, freshly shaven and cool as a cucumber - he promised me all of the things I never believed could be promised. And I believed him. So I promised the same.


Dylan read a Bible verse, although we aren't avid Bible readers, it had volumes of meaning. Maybe more for me than Derek! Maybe it meant something different entirely to each of us. He was so nervous to read his paper. He was so careful when he handed our rings over. He did such a good job. He means so much to me.


We ate a bit. We danced. Then we left for our honeymoon.



And so now, we've been married 2 whole months. Life hasn't let up and I don't expect it to. Everyone warned us marriage wasn't a vacation. Maybe I'm still on a love high, but I tend to disagree. Everything seems so much easier when you know you're doing it with your best friend.

"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace."
Ecclesiastes 3. 1-8