I have spent most of my life riding the fence. Let me be brutally honest. I am not a great decision maker. I was that child in line who couldn't decide whether they wanted the strawberry lollipop or the grape one. I would stand there and reason with why I couldn't have both. Then I would stand there and let it fester so long I usually either made a decision and instantly regretted it or didn't get either lollipop because I waited too long. Haha. I think this is one reason I have an obsession with redoing my house. I'm being brutally honest, I probably redecorate my house at least once a year. I am constantly moving furniture, tweaking this to the right or to the left. But you know what else when I redecorate my house I usually take all the old decoration down and store it away in my attic, or give it to my mother because I KNOW if I regret this decision I can always go back and get it later. This morning I watched a sermon livestreaming and it was about divine direction. As I listened to this pastors words. I realized that I need this so much more now than I ever had in my entire life. I spend my every waking hour not being able to decide what to do or wear. Sometimes I change my clothes as many as 5x in the morning because I cant decide and even then I sometimes regret the choice I made later on in the day. (No kidding)
As this pastors voice resonated in not only my ears but also my heart I realized I carry this insane practice over into my spiritual life. I never want to make a big enough decision that I am forced to make a complete change. Like I always want to make decisions inside what I am going to call my "safe box". Because within those four walls of my "safe box" I can control majority of the aspects that scare me. I'm not really sure when this insane practice began for me or why if there is some deep psychological reasoning behind why I do this but this morning God spoke deeply to my heart and began to unfold just a little glimmer of the truth behind why I continue to live in such a chaotic state of indecision.
I always have came back to the same excuse.
"Well how am I supposed to truly KNOW what God wants me to do?"
Whether it be fear of displeasing God, or the painful fact making a decision will require me to let go of the strings I've been holding onto. My indecisiveness toward God has turned into outright sin in my life. My sin has become my inaction for whatever reasons they might be.
Sometimes life seems a lot easier when we are comfortable. I mean lets be completely honest for a hot minute. Change is scary. I mean small change is scary even like painting your living room that robin egg blue even though it looks GREAT in the pinterest pictures, but BIG change that is like really scary, like resigning from a position, relocating your family, selling your home. I find myself always sticking to making changes for God inside my "safe box".
"Sure God I''ll move, 15 minutes down the road because that is easy."
"Sure God I'll take that position because it requires no amount of fear or change in what I'm currently experiencing."
"Sure God I'll volunteer or teach at church. But my church only because its the safe, easy thing and I've been doing it so long it feels like second nature."
"Sure God"
"Sure God"
"Sure God"
But what if, just what if Gods blessings are outside of our "safe box". What is He is just waiting patiently for us to pick the lemon sucker because even though the lemon sucker seems scary and it is not at all what you had in your mind or what you are used to. The lemon sucker was the one. It was the one He waiting for you to pick.
One thing the sermon touched on toward the end was, Make a decision. Make a prayer led, whole heart, God decision and if you are wrong you get something even the great Solomon wanted. Wisdom. But when you make that decision don't keep your other choice in the attic so you can always come back to it. Jump in with your arms in the air and surrender to God. See what He has planned for you. Don't be so fearful of making a mistake that you walk down the line of comfort because you never want to take that leap of going left or right.
I know after today I will. I might still decide to redecorate my house every year, or change clothes 10+ times in the morning, I might still stand at the grocery store trying to decide between two different brands of instant mashed potatoes because I want to make sure I make the right decision. But I will remember the valuable lesson taught today. I will remember that my decision is important because I refuse to ever make a true God decision for my life I will miss out not only the blessings for my life but I will miss out all the wisdom God will provide me through each of these decisions I choose to make.
If I want to be a risk taker in any area of my life it is going to be for my Savior Jesus Christ. But truly any decision I make towards Him to the left or right is going to be the right decision in the end.
The Modest Mom.
Because today was a good day.
I never realized the difference in my days much. I mean, like the rest I have struggled and had hard days, happy days, emotionally challenging days, stressful days, humorous days. But days were just days. They ticked away just like anything else and then the next day would roll over and we would do it all over again. That was until about 7 weeks ago.
I realized something was wrong when I couldn't remember how I had got there standing in my kitchen. Over the next few weeks, I experienced symptoms I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. I had handfuls of hair falling out, my vision was coming and going, the fatigue was crippling, anxiety, every bone, muscle and fiber in my body hurt. Several doctors visits later they confirmed I had thyroid disease. I had to be on thyroid medication, but also my immune system was malfunctioning so I also was dealing with a chronic EBV. I was glad for answers but kinda standing there looking at the doctor like, "you gotta be kidding me right?"
My New Years resolution was Joy. And I felt like Satan was sitting there laughing as to mock me and say, boy did I get you!! But instead I've taken each day at a time, I've cried. Especially on the bad days. Today I woke up as I have the last few weeks at 6am. Stumbled through the dark to take my thyroid medicine then retreated back to bed for the next 45 minutes before it is time to get ready for the day. But today I noticed something. I woke up at 6....I could tell I felt okay but I didn't get my hopes up. I've had a few days I thought were going to be good that turned to be days I ended up crying in my pillow. But as I began my daily tasks walking on eggshells waiting for it to crash down around me I realized today was going to be a GOOD day. As the night winds down I feel the fatigue beginning to creep up on me, my head has a slight twinge as I write this and I know my body has had all it can take today.... Im just so so so grateful. Because you never realize how important those good days are until you've had more bad days than you care to count... make your good days count. Hold onto them and squeeze ever ounce of joy from those good days.
Today I finally broke out a paintbrush and went to work doing some crafting. Something that there were days in just the recent past I thought I might never see again... and I painted. Because today was a good day.
Survival Float
I sit here this early afternoon under a warm electric blanket in silence with the exception of the radio playing softly beside me. In bed still. I ask myself. Why am I still here. It is 11 oclock. I should be up. The problem is i've been sick the last couple weeks. Not sick like give me some cough syrup and an antibiotic (oh how I wish it was that easy)... but sick as in being diagnosed with an autoimmune disease. When I got this news I was relieved because I had answers but it didn't take long for the resentment, anger, confusion and jealously to set in. Not understanding why me? I have asked this question alot in my life it feels like.
I have sat in the last week in a fog awaiting the doctor appointment to begin what I can only describe as a lifelong sentence to medication. Whether it be supplementation or prescribed. I will never get away from this. I cant run away. I cant will myself better. There is no magic pill. There is no magic surgery. This was a life sentence. It came on suddenly and scary as a matter of fact. Weakness follwed by forgetting who I was momentarily, realizing I couldnt remmeber what day it was, Waiting for the doctor has been a huge struggle. If you've ever lived in this state you would understand just how hard it makes it to just daily function and do regular things like grocery shop, clean house, remember to get your kids from school or that they are properly dressed or homework is done. Its terrible to feel as if your mind is leaving you. I type this in a fog as I want so badly to explain how living this way feels but I struggle as my fingers move to keep my brain moving at the same pace. You begin to ask yourself questions. Uncertain if you will ever be the same. You begin to fear the future, be jealous of the past and grieve the present.
Today I woke up in the same fog I have been the last couple weeks. Today feels better than yesterday but not quite as good as the day before. I havent made it passed my bed yet. Remnants of breakfast, clumps of hair that have began falling out, strewed about the pile of colored pencils, in my jacket in bed under my blanket and still freezing cold. All I can hold onto the fact that this morning, despite my pain, my memory, my confusion that God hasn't left me. This morning I was grasping at straws and reached for my bible and grabbed an old devotional on the bedside table from 2013 I opened it to a devotional called "The Survival Float" It brought me straight to Psalms 55. I read this and tried all I could do to not soak the pages of my bible in my tears. I am broken and confused. I'm a little angry to be honest.. not at God. Just at the kinda luck I always seem to have. Then God brought me this verse. "Cast your care on the Lord and he will sustain you"... not heal you, not rescue you, not make it all better. He will sustain you... that doesn't mean God wont heal me. He might choose to. He might choose to make me better but right now I know He is telling me to hold onto Him tight. He is my survival float. And He is telling me. No matter what he will sustain me. And as the very last sentence of psalms closes I realized this was my answer. "But as for me, I trust in You."
Refusing to lose myself in pursuit of my children.
What a ridiculous title I bet was the first thing that ran across your mind. Strangely enough it has been weighing on my mind heavily the last few months. Now let me get one thing straight. I love my children fiercely with a love that knows no limits but I also love them so much I've decided that because I love them that much I refuse for my life to revolve around them. Yes really. We spend our days and nights once we become parents focusing on our children's successes. Their achievements. From the time they begin to walk until they walk across that graduation stage and then more.
I've spent the last few years of my life letting my 8 year old daughter pour herself into organized sports. From tumbling to tball, softball to basketball and then all over again. Now don't get me wrong I believe these outlets are unbelievable teachers of life for children so I'm strictly using this as an example but what happens when I as a parent began to eat, drink, live and breathe these sports becoming so consumed in her love of an activity that I forget my first true love. God. It's a hard pill to swallow when I woke up and realized one day this has become me. My busyness and life had become so lost in one thing I wasn't sure quite when it happened that I began to lose little pieces of myself. I rarely took time to experience life anymore. I forgot what It felt like to feel accomplished working under the buzz of a sewing machine or what it smelled like spending an entire day baking interesting new creations, or what it sounded like to hear my children's laughter during a popcorn and sugar filled family movie night. I had been living life but not truly experiencing it. I realized this had created the so called domino effect. I had become not such a great friend wife or mother for that fact.
How so? I bet your asking. You are giving your child everything she wants and pushing her towards greatness right? Well maybe....but maybe not. I read something today that said recognize the difference in happiness and joy. I don't think joy is something we can chase, no matter how much we strive to get more of this world joy doesn't come then. I think joy comes when we stop chasing the fulfillment of this world. We can enjoy this world but we can't find our joy there. No matter how hard we search we will always come up empty and unfulfilled. I want to teach my children more than chasing happiness of this life. I want them to learn that you can not chase joy down. Whether we think we will find that in a new career, home, money or our children. Instead we must first seek his kingdom and let everything else just take its course. That we don't become consumed In our own lives we forget the whole purpose of our life.
You see many people would tell me that I'm doing it right. That my heart is right by wanting to give my children things maybe I believed I never had and I'm okay with doing that to a point. But when I look at the adults my kids will become in just a few short years away I hope I can say I directed their paths toward Jesus first always because I don't want to be sitting in a pew years down the road wondering what in the world I did so wrong. That I didn't lose myself in them so much during the years of their youth that I missed the whole point in directing them to Him.
I've spent the last few years of my life letting my 8 year old daughter pour herself into organized sports. From tumbling to tball, softball to basketball and then all over again. Now don't get me wrong I believe these outlets are unbelievable teachers of life for children so I'm strictly using this as an example but what happens when I as a parent began to eat, drink, live and breathe these sports becoming so consumed in her love of an activity that I forget my first true love. God. It's a hard pill to swallow when I woke up and realized one day this has become me. My busyness and life had become so lost in one thing I wasn't sure quite when it happened that I began to lose little pieces of myself. I rarely took time to experience life anymore. I forgot what It felt like to feel accomplished working under the buzz of a sewing machine or what it smelled like spending an entire day baking interesting new creations, or what it sounded like to hear my children's laughter during a popcorn and sugar filled family movie night. I had been living life but not truly experiencing it. I realized this had created the so called domino effect. I had become not such a great friend wife or mother for that fact.
How so? I bet your asking. You are giving your child everything she wants and pushing her towards greatness right? Well maybe....but maybe not. I read something today that said recognize the difference in happiness and joy. I don't think joy is something we can chase, no matter how much we strive to get more of this world joy doesn't come then. I think joy comes when we stop chasing the fulfillment of this world. We can enjoy this world but we can't find our joy there. No matter how hard we search we will always come up empty and unfulfilled. I want to teach my children more than chasing happiness of this life. I want them to learn that you can not chase joy down. Whether we think we will find that in a new career, home, money or our children. Instead we must first seek his kingdom and let everything else just take its course. That we don't become consumed In our own lives we forget the whole purpose of our life.
You see many people would tell me that I'm doing it right. That my heart is right by wanting to give my children things maybe I believed I never had and I'm okay with doing that to a point. But when I look at the adults my kids will become in just a few short years away I hope I can say I directed their paths toward Jesus first always because I don't want to be sitting in a pew years down the road wondering what in the world I did so wrong. That I didn't lose myself in them so much during the years of their youth that I missed the whole point in directing them to Him.
Living this life.
I share alot of my frustration and pain. At first I thought it would be good to spread awareness but as life chugs along I've decided not only does it share awareness it is my own special kind of therapy. Writing has always done that for me. So I decided to give those who follow our story a little window into our world. What a day living as a parent of a child with ANSD is like. So get ready for a Rollercoaster as most days are.
We have a pretty routine life. I developed a routine years ago because I knew it was better for children. I knew it would be key to keeping my sanity as the most important job I'll ever do. A stay at home mom. Today we woke up bright and early. It was our first day of headstart and everyone was busting at the seams with excitement. I woke little Quinn up with a kiss and a tickle. She happened to sleep all night in her bed which happens rarely. Most nights she ends up in my bed mid-night. She's never been a good sleeper. We get up and she is obviously tired and not too happy about it. I leave ample time because rushing with her stresses her out and she has a tantrum so we go slow. The first thing I ask her is if she is hungry. She shakes her head yes. The next few minutes I know will ensue of me deciphering what she wants to eat to avoid a meltdown on this first important day. She says she wants "si-ul" I know her well enough to know she is asking for cereal.
Then she says "ma I unt si-ul in a tu if oh ilk"
no lie exactly as that is typed is what I hear. After a few seconds I ask her to repeat. I know I have to get it this time or she is going to flip out and lose it. Finally I discover 10 seconds of silence after her repeat what she wants. She wanted cereal In a cup with no milk. Phew catastrophe averted. I have had people laugh at me when I tell them I'm scared to not understand her. Most of the time I can get her to repeat herself more than once but sometimes once is it and you can see the frustration behind her eyes. Imagine speaking a different language than your child.
I know there is a beautiful and complex little girl behind those big brown eyes just wanting someone to understand her. To laugh at her jokes and to share her frustrations and fears.
How do you explain to a 4 year old the complexity of delayed speech and the fact I want to understand her but can't. She was frustrated today because a little girl at school called her a baby. I told her not to worry.
She said "moma me ad. Me ot una o to tool. A dirl at tool call me bitty baby" (momma me sad. Me not wanna go to school. A girl at school called me a bitty baby" I said what girl was it. Did you know her. She said "no a bue dre" (a Blue dress) I'm sure the girl called her that because she's unusually petite which is something I'm sure she'll be glad about later in life but trying to explain it now is near impossible.
Most days I spend listening intently and guessing, like a Neverending game of charades that losing could mean an hour of screaming, frustration and anger. I've seen toddler outbursts and these are different these are outbursts of a child not knowing why someone is ignoring them, even though that's not the case it's how it feels for her.
Remember when your baby was a newborn and either had colic and you felt helpless and defeated or maybe your friends baby had and you realized how hard it was. Having ANSD is like having a colicky preschooler. When a bad day happens and frustration comes intertwined with hearing loss. Nothing I say or do matters.
The thing with ANSD is some days I understand most everything out of her mouth and other days I understand nothing and I fight to get through and guess what she's saying. All anyone wants to be in life is heard. We spend most our lives looking for someone willing to listen to us. More than anything I want to be that for her now. One day I will be. That is my goal. I refuse to let her go through life without being heard. It doesn't matter what road we have to take. no matter how hard it is and how many days I feel like I failed. I want her to look back at childhood and remember, no matter how hard it got. No matter how frustrated her and I were that her and, I we never gave up on each other.
We have a pretty routine life. I developed a routine years ago because I knew it was better for children. I knew it would be key to keeping my sanity as the most important job I'll ever do. A stay at home mom. Today we woke up bright and early. It was our first day of headstart and everyone was busting at the seams with excitement. I woke little Quinn up with a kiss and a tickle. She happened to sleep all night in her bed which happens rarely. Most nights she ends up in my bed mid-night. She's never been a good sleeper. We get up and she is obviously tired and not too happy about it. I leave ample time because rushing with her stresses her out and she has a tantrum so we go slow. The first thing I ask her is if she is hungry. She shakes her head yes. The next few minutes I know will ensue of me deciphering what she wants to eat to avoid a meltdown on this first important day. She says she wants "si-ul" I know her well enough to know she is asking for cereal.
Then she says "ma I unt si-ul in a tu if oh ilk"
no lie exactly as that is typed is what I hear. After a few seconds I ask her to repeat. I know I have to get it this time or she is going to flip out and lose it. Finally I discover 10 seconds of silence after her repeat what she wants. She wanted cereal In a cup with no milk. Phew catastrophe averted. I have had people laugh at me when I tell them I'm scared to not understand her. Most of the time I can get her to repeat herself more than once but sometimes once is it and you can see the frustration behind her eyes. Imagine speaking a different language than your child.
I know there is a beautiful and complex little girl behind those big brown eyes just wanting someone to understand her. To laugh at her jokes and to share her frustrations and fears.
How do you explain to a 4 year old the complexity of delayed speech and the fact I want to understand her but can't. She was frustrated today because a little girl at school called her a baby. I told her not to worry.
She said "moma me ad. Me ot una o to tool. A dirl at tool call me bitty baby" (momma me sad. Me not wanna go to school. A girl at school called me a bitty baby" I said what girl was it. Did you know her. She said "no a bue dre" (a Blue dress) I'm sure the girl called her that because she's unusually petite which is something I'm sure she'll be glad about later in life but trying to explain it now is near impossible.
Most days I spend listening intently and guessing, like a Neverending game of charades that losing could mean an hour of screaming, frustration and anger. I've seen toddler outbursts and these are different these are outbursts of a child not knowing why someone is ignoring them, even though that's not the case it's how it feels for her.
Remember when your baby was a newborn and either had colic and you felt helpless and defeated or maybe your friends baby had and you realized how hard it was. Having ANSD is like having a colicky preschooler. When a bad day happens and frustration comes intertwined with hearing loss. Nothing I say or do matters.
The thing with ANSD is some days I understand most everything out of her mouth and other days I understand nothing and I fight to get through and guess what she's saying. All anyone wants to be in life is heard. We spend most our lives looking for someone willing to listen to us. More than anything I want to be that for her now. One day I will be. That is my goal. I refuse to let her go through life without being heard. It doesn't matter what road we have to take. no matter how hard it is and how many days I feel like I failed. I want her to look back at childhood and remember, no matter how hard it got. No matter how frustrated her and I were that her and, I we never gave up on each other.
Forgetting what "normal" is like
Forgetting what "normal" is like.
As I lay here wide awake in the evening hours my mind racing with a million facts, questions and musings. I realize I've forgotten what normal is like. Now let me be first to tell you I'm not necessarily a fan of normal but other people are. To be honest sometimes normal takes much less effort than different also. I'm not talking about fitting in with the crowd and having the most popular in style shirt or looking normal like the rest of population. I've simply forgot what being normal is.
10 years ago I became a mother to my firstborn. Life was a breeze with him. So much so that a few years later we tried again for another baby. Then came our now 7 year old curly headed quiet and funny daughter. Then after believing we would never have another child God gave us my last born. A 3 year old blessing with the biggest eyes and even a bigger love to melt your heart. But you see when he blessed us with her we didn't realize it would change our normal. She was born partially deaf with auditory neuropathy even though we didn't discover it until she was 3. I can remember thinking maybe she was just a "difficult" toddler. I mean everyone has those right? I can still remember being at a department store when she had her first blood curdling episode. The lady working behind the counter looked over her glasses and point blank said, "you know a doctor can give you medication to fix that." I left without even getting what I came for and strapped her into her car seat and cried. I didn't understand that my idea of normal was already changing.
At 3 years old after multiple doctors visits and unintelligible speech issues we had a diagnosis. I don't know when you get that ldiagnosis whether it is supposed to feel better or worse. I think a little of both. She had auditory neuropathy in her right ear which in short connected to the left side of her brain which was responsible for speech. Not "normal" hearing loss. They described it like hearing through a loud static radio. Never silence... always noise. And since it was like that it meant fixing it wouldn't be easy either. Matter of fact there was no magic device that would fix it. No surgery, no medication. Only therapy, time, and learning to be a new normal.
We are down to double digit countdown for a trial run of our first round of devices after a year of waiting.
I some days feel like a complete failure as a mother. How do you mother a child who can understand at the capacity of a 5 year old (she's been tested so we know) but can communicate only as a not even 2 year old.
People stare.. people hush, whispers... She's louder than she means because it's never silent in her head, in loud places she places her hands over her ears and yells "too loud, owie", her temper is some days uncontrollable,.. which we've been told is also an outlet because she's so frustrated.... I some days just cry with her because I can't understand what she's saying.. some days I feel like I've failed my other children because I ask them to help me, whether it's calm her or help decipher what she's saying.. she doesn't sleep well.. because her noise never stops. People suggest.. if you'd just spank her it would stop that behavior.... I've wanted to scream in their faces.. don't you think I've tried a spanking???!?! My heart some days handles not being normal less than others. Like when her brother asks.. "mom will Quinn ever be able to talk normal?" I have no answer for that because I don't know.
Sometimes until you live the life of not being "normal" it's hard to be sympathetic... but let me end with something.. the next time you hear a kid being overly inappropriately loud, or throwing a tantrum in public don't look at that mother with judging eyes. She feels horrible enough without you staring daggers at her or posting on Facebook how your "so glad your children are well behaved" you have no idea what not being "normal" is like. How many nights and days she's cried because trust me she wants life to be easier but it just isn't. But you know what. She's doing the best she can with what she has and unless your willing to walk a mile in her shoes try a friendly smile, don't judge her when your standing there with your healthy normal children and she can't get her child to speak softer or she can't get her off the floor a moment to understand why she's throwing a fit.
Trust me it would be easier for us to be normal like you, but God had different plans for us.
Amanda
As I lay here wide awake in the evening hours my mind racing with a million facts, questions and musings. I realize I've forgotten what normal is like. Now let me be first to tell you I'm not necessarily a fan of normal but other people are. To be honest sometimes normal takes much less effort than different also. I'm not talking about fitting in with the crowd and having the most popular in style shirt or looking normal like the rest of population. I've simply forgot what being normal is.
10 years ago I became a mother to my firstborn. Life was a breeze with him. So much so that a few years later we tried again for another baby. Then came our now 7 year old curly headed quiet and funny daughter. Then after believing we would never have another child God gave us my last born. A 3 year old blessing with the biggest eyes and even a bigger love to melt your heart. But you see when he blessed us with her we didn't realize it would change our normal. She was born partially deaf with auditory neuropathy even though we didn't discover it until she was 3. I can remember thinking maybe she was just a "difficult" toddler. I mean everyone has those right? I can still remember being at a department store when she had her first blood curdling episode. The lady working behind the counter looked over her glasses and point blank said, "you know a doctor can give you medication to fix that." I left without even getting what I came for and strapped her into her car seat and cried. I didn't understand that my idea of normal was already changing.
At 3 years old after multiple doctors visits and unintelligible speech issues we had a diagnosis. I don't know when you get that ldiagnosis whether it is supposed to feel better or worse. I think a little of both. She had auditory neuropathy in her right ear which in short connected to the left side of her brain which was responsible for speech. Not "normal" hearing loss. They described it like hearing through a loud static radio. Never silence... always noise. And since it was like that it meant fixing it wouldn't be easy either. Matter of fact there was no magic device that would fix it. No surgery, no medication. Only therapy, time, and learning to be a new normal.
We are down to double digit countdown for a trial run of our first round of devices after a year of waiting.
I some days feel like a complete failure as a mother. How do you mother a child who can understand at the capacity of a 5 year old (she's been tested so we know) but can communicate only as a not even 2 year old.
People stare.. people hush, whispers... She's louder than she means because it's never silent in her head, in loud places she places her hands over her ears and yells "too loud, owie", her temper is some days uncontrollable,.. which we've been told is also an outlet because she's so frustrated.... I some days just cry with her because I can't understand what she's saying.. some days I feel like I've failed my other children because I ask them to help me, whether it's calm her or help decipher what she's saying.. she doesn't sleep well.. because her noise never stops. People suggest.. if you'd just spank her it would stop that behavior.... I've wanted to scream in their faces.. don't you think I've tried a spanking???!?! My heart some days handles not being normal less than others. Like when her brother asks.. "mom will Quinn ever be able to talk normal?" I have no answer for that because I don't know.
Sometimes until you live the life of not being "normal" it's hard to be sympathetic... but let me end with something.. the next time you hear a kid being overly inappropriately loud, or throwing a tantrum in public don't look at that mother with judging eyes. She feels horrible enough without you staring daggers at her or posting on Facebook how your "so glad your children are well behaved" you have no idea what not being "normal" is like. How many nights and days she's cried because trust me she wants life to be easier but it just isn't. But you know what. She's doing the best she can with what she has and unless your willing to walk a mile in her shoes try a friendly smile, don't judge her when your standing there with your healthy normal children and she can't get her child to speak softer or she can't get her off the floor a moment to understand why she's throwing a fit.
Trust me it would be easier for us to be normal like you, but God had different plans for us.
Amanda
Saying Goodbye.
Dear 321 Ted Allen Lane,
Where do I begin? Probably with a little curly headed boy and a blonde headed girl with bouncy curls just turning one. Back before you were complete. We got blisters on our hands from painting you from top to bottom and putting every bit of our heart and soul into you. From a simple place.....to a place we called home. You saw Caed learn how to ride his bike for the very first time without training wheels. You heard the laughter of Emy as she learned to not only walk but run jump then climb, you also heard her tears as she learned to sleep in her big girl bed without mommy and daddy and boy did she not want to. You were there when I cried tears of sadness when my boy started school and tears of joy when he learned to read. Then when life became unsure. Our marriage was rocky and it seemed everything we did just made it worse. These walls saw our pain and were lined with our tears. You saw when hope dawned again and when things got whole again. When smiling and happiness was no longer absent. When love and laughter had meaning once more.
You saw when Emy began to grow. When she was so giving she cut 10 inches of beautiful golden locks to give away to Locks of love. Then you were here again when there was news of another baby. After 6 tests I finally had their daddy convinced. Yes, you were here then too. It was here on the stump in the back yard when I first felt the tiny kick of baby Quinn. We laid in the bed in the backroom together and listened intently to her little heartbeat on the prenatal monitor for hours...it never got old.
Then she came. Early. It was this home, your comfort I longed to feel after a long NICU stay. Then when she finally got to come home and we were finally complete. It was here in which I had all my love together in one spot again. It was here my big boy Caed lost his first tooth and Emy the same a few years later. It was here Emy left little drawings of people on the doorframe as if greeting me hello. Here that Quinn learned to scoot, roll over, crawl and walk. You saw when Emy was diagnosed with Lyme disease only for Quinn to be diagnosed as partially deaf not a year later. You've heard my prayers for them.. prayers for healing and grace.
Here we have kissed countless scraped knees and elbows. We've laughed more in this house than we have cried. We've built tent forts in the living room and played countless hours of hide and seek. We've cuddled together on stormy nights and talked about the stars. It was here that Saturday mornings we were greeted by 3 little kids so full of life and love bouncing on our bed while we still slept which eventually turned into an epic ticklefight. We've spent evenings outside swimming and laughing and building fires. So many memories and so much love. It was here by his bedside we kneeled and prayed together as my little boy accepted Jesus as his Savior. It was here my boy became too big to cuddle with mommy anymore, here he made his first real friends and here he no longer asked to have a nightlight on.
There have been so many firsts just in the last few weeks... Emy riding her bike for the first time in the same spot Caed did just years before. Quinn getting her first big girl bike to where I dreamed of her learning to ride her bike in the same spot the other two did before her. I am not sure how to leave you. To leave this place that holds so much of what I've loved. These memories that have given me such joy. I know in my heart you are just a house, just boards and beams placed together..but you were our house. You shared with us so many important times in our life. It was in this house our family grew. It blossomed and happiness echoed throughout. It was loud and crowded alot of the time but part of that was what made it so special. I'm not sure how to say goodbye. I'm not confident that I can totally. Your goodbye will be a process, one that I will have to grieve over time.
But thank you for the gift of the memories I hold. I can place them in my mind, somewhere inside that reminds me all of this happiness that took place In a little house nestled in a small town tucked behind the trees.
People after us will come and repaint the walls, the fingerprints will have been scrubbed away along with little traces of what was before. But my memories of this place will remain the same locked tight and safe in a portion of my heart that I will forever and always treasure.
Thank you.
Where do I begin? Probably with a little curly headed boy and a blonde headed girl with bouncy curls just turning one. Back before you were complete. We got blisters on our hands from painting you from top to bottom and putting every bit of our heart and soul into you. From a simple place.....to a place we called home. You saw Caed learn how to ride his bike for the very first time without training wheels. You heard the laughter of Emy as she learned to not only walk but run jump then climb, you also heard her tears as she learned to sleep in her big girl bed without mommy and daddy and boy did she not want to. You were there when I cried tears of sadness when my boy started school and tears of joy when he learned to read. Then when life became unsure. Our marriage was rocky and it seemed everything we did just made it worse. These walls saw our pain and were lined with our tears. You saw when hope dawned again and when things got whole again. When smiling and happiness was no longer absent. When love and laughter had meaning once more.
You saw when Emy began to grow. When she was so giving she cut 10 inches of beautiful golden locks to give away to Locks of love. Then you were here again when there was news of another baby. After 6 tests I finally had their daddy convinced. Yes, you were here then too. It was here on the stump in the back yard when I first felt the tiny kick of baby Quinn. We laid in the bed in the backroom together and listened intently to her little heartbeat on the prenatal monitor for hours...it never got old.
Then she came. Early. It was this home, your comfort I longed to feel after a long NICU stay. Then when she finally got to come home and we were finally complete. It was here in which I had all my love together in one spot again. It was here my big boy Caed lost his first tooth and Emy the same a few years later. It was here Emy left little drawings of people on the doorframe as if greeting me hello. Here that Quinn learned to scoot, roll over, crawl and walk. You saw when Emy was diagnosed with Lyme disease only for Quinn to be diagnosed as partially deaf not a year later. You've heard my prayers for them.. prayers for healing and grace.
Here we have kissed countless scraped knees and elbows. We've laughed more in this house than we have cried. We've built tent forts in the living room and played countless hours of hide and seek. We've cuddled together on stormy nights and talked about the stars. It was here that Saturday mornings we were greeted by 3 little kids so full of life and love bouncing on our bed while we still slept which eventually turned into an epic ticklefight. We've spent evenings outside swimming and laughing and building fires. So many memories and so much love. It was here by his bedside we kneeled and prayed together as my little boy accepted Jesus as his Savior. It was here my boy became too big to cuddle with mommy anymore, here he made his first real friends and here he no longer asked to have a nightlight on.
There have been so many firsts just in the last few weeks... Emy riding her bike for the first time in the same spot Caed did just years before. Quinn getting her first big girl bike to where I dreamed of her learning to ride her bike in the same spot the other two did before her. I am not sure how to leave you. To leave this place that holds so much of what I've loved. These memories that have given me such joy. I know in my heart you are just a house, just boards and beams placed together..but you were our house. You shared with us so many important times in our life. It was in this house our family grew. It blossomed and happiness echoed throughout. It was loud and crowded alot of the time but part of that was what made it so special. I'm not sure how to say goodbye. I'm not confident that I can totally. Your goodbye will be a process, one that I will have to grieve over time.
But thank you for the gift of the memories I hold. I can place them in my mind, somewhere inside that reminds me all of this happiness that took place In a little house nestled in a small town tucked behind the trees.
People after us will come and repaint the walls, the fingerprints will have been scrubbed away along with little traces of what was before. But my memories of this place will remain the same locked tight and safe in a portion of my heart that I will forever and always treasure.
Thank you.
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