Saturday Ramblings

 

Just less than four months ago, we were standing before this plane, anxiously awaiting the baby sister and daddy we had been apart from for too long.  Almost a month spent separated, I think each one of us realized the value of family and the strength and peace that comes from being together, as one unit, in the comfort of our home...even when that closeness can bring its own little hiccups.

Tomorrow, we do it again.  Not for as long, but equally steeped in emotion.

I will undergo surgery next week to remove both breasts and the lymph nodes under my arms.  Many have asked if I'm anxious.  And, while I'd like to say, "no" and that I have complete trust in God, I wouldn't be telling the entire truth.

I am anxious.  But right now, that anxiety stems from more than the surgery...mostly it comes from the eyes I look into as I say goodbye...those eyes that well up with tears and beg me not to leave again.  The eyes that are trying to fight back the "drips" while each one asks why I have to be gone again.  I'm worried about being apart.  I'm worried about little ones with health problems of their own.  I'm worried about the anxiety manifesting in their little hearts after the last few months.

Tuesday morning, I'll worry about my surgery.

In an ideal situation, I would tell you that the last almost six months, I've re-prioritized my life and now don't get irritated when the inconsequential things don't get done or the kids don't listen or the house doesn't stay clean for more than five minutes.  But, the situation isn't ideal, and I've been less than I should be when it comes to letting things go, in spite of my diagnosis.

I'm hoping the Lord is still chipping away at the silliness of my reactions and the lack of being who I need to be, because I don't want Him to give up...I just take a lot of molding ;)

I attended a virtual healing service last night.  That was a first for me - well, a first for a healing service of any kind.  And, while I'm so glad I did it, I went back and forth for awhile about truly what I wanted to ask God for.  I mean, I want to be well.  I want that "guarantee" that I'll see my kids have kids and share much more life with them (don't we all), but I wrestled with (and still do) what God's plan is for me.

I'm not saying that I think He wants me to die.  I just wonder how He wants to use me to reach others, and I pray daily for grace to allow that to happen.  Does He want to refine me via this cross?  I believe so.  And, it is teaching me so much about how much I lack in turning my life completely over to Him.  Can He use me as an example for others when they face their own unique crosses?  I pray so.  Does He want to use the power of a miraculous healing to bring others closer to Him?  Maybe.  I just don't know.  So, what I ask for is His will.  Be that a cure, a remission, or a constant cross...His will and the grace to accept it.

Again, Tuesday morning...I think I will worry more about the surgery.  Vainly, I'm anxious about getting lymphedema.  With my desire for control, I'm a bit worried about being helpless for awhile.  I'm also somewhat concerned about looking like Frankenstein and awaiting the pathology results.  I'm concerned about being away from home, from the ones I love most and from the familiar in the vulnerable.

Maybe in all of that, I should say those are my "thoughts" rather than my anxieties.  I know I cannot be in two places at once.  I know I have to do this in order that I may be as healthy as I can.  I know that my kids are in the hands of people who love them dearly.  And, above all, I know that God has this and is wrapping His arms around me as I go into surgery alone (cancer in COVID times;)).  I truly am not afraid.  I am ready for this, and I'm ready to be on the other side of it.

But, what I'm most ready for...these little ones waiting for me as I arrive home, much like Jesus is waiting for me to drop my arms and the weight of these thoughts and come into His.  Because if there is anything I'm learning (and trying to put into practice), it's this...little else matters besides Him.  And, we can rest in the promise that His will will be done regardless of our "help."

Come, Lord Jesus.

Life Itself

I just watched that movie.  Sitting here in my hotel room, attached to MD Anderson, alone.  And, while I wouldn't recommend that movie to just anyone without strong caveats,  strong caveats, it has a profound message, and one which deepens one's empathy.  And, in that setting, I write.

So, I have to back up.  To a month ago.  To this...

...sitting for family photos knowing I had a mammogram in two days that very few knew about.  Knowing that this might be our last "normal" photo for awhile.

I didn't want to believe the lump I noticed a few months before would be a problem.  The lump that since Agnes' birth I had forgotten about.  The one which I was reminded of with a phone call from my grandmother just a week or so before this.

My granddad (who had suffered greatly from a stroke almost two years before), woke up angry with my grandmother.  Apparently he believed I had called him in the night to tell him something was wrong.  Even after texting that I was fine, he wasn't convinced.  So, Jeremy stayed home with everyone but Agnes, and I drove out with her to see him.  When I arrived, he looked at my grandmother and said, "See!  She did call."  I tried to convince him otherwise without any success, and he said, "You said something was wrong, and you had something to show me."  So I introduced him to Agnes, and said I was fine.

But, that night, I remembered the lump I felt months before.

And, I got in touch with my OBGYN the next day to schedule a mammogram for after we returned from Agnes' appointments in Denver the next week.

I didn't tell anyone (well, except for my husband, mom, sister and a couple friends), because part of me was sure I had just made something out of nothing...like a clogged milk duct.  And, another part didn't want anyone to worry until they had a reason to worry.  But, when I told my mom a couple days before the appointment, she was determined to come with me (or at least drive me there).

When at the appointment they "saw something suspicious," part of me just knew.  They biopsied two sites and told me that it could be 200 other things but that they needed to rule out the one "bad" thing.  I got back in the car with my mom, and all I could think was, "Dear God please don't let my kids grow up without a mom."  I didn't want to start thinking of all of the what ifs, but I was somewhat worried, and I knew those I told were, too.

That night as I laid in bed thinking of the year we had had, I so vividly was reminded of Jesus being fully man and thus knowing the hurt of hard times, yet with He and His momma, part of me thought, "Yes, you became like us to know us and to feel everything with us - to be fully human - yet You never lost your mom."  

Two days later, as I was washing dishes after lunch, I had a call on my cell from an unknown number.  I picked it up, and after the lady on the other end asked me how my biopsied sites were doing, she asked if I "had a minute."  For the record, I'm no longer answering yes to that question ;)

I sat on my bed, grabbed a pen and opened up the nearest thing to me (a book called He and I), and began to write down everything she said.  It was a blur, but I came away knowing I had Invasive Ductal Carcinoma, Grade 3, with a 3.5 cm mass and at least one affected lymph node.  I would wait five more days to hear reports on the staging and receptor status.

I walked out of my room, made eye contact with Jeremy, and he followed me out our back door to sit on the steps, take a deep breath, cry and decide what to do next.  I had cancer.

Cancer.

I knew I needed to call my mom and sister, then one of my best childhood friends who had just been through a cancer diagnosis and treatment, and finally send a mass message to my friends and family who had no clue what was coming.

In the meantime, Jeremy called his parents and told our kids...the kids who haven't seen much death, but that which they have has almost always been tied to cancer.

After all of the communication, and the loving on my babies, I went to talk to my parents.  There is not much worse than seeing those you love most suffer...yet seeing them helplessly hurt for you, I've discovered, ranks right up there with it.

I came home to Jeremy driving his truck, with the kids behind in all of their run down, battery-operated vehicles...chained together, pulled by Dad...offering me what they termed, "The Love Parade."

I made the corner after watching their tear-stained faces wanting to lift my spirits and sobbed like I never have before.

And after that, I went back to those dishes.

Because what does one do after receiving a cancer diagnosis, with 8 sets of little eyes watching?

Only the very next thing that needs to be done.  Life itself.

On the Day She Turned Two Months

 

She had her first out-patient procedure.

We are here in Denver as I type this post, and she's under anesthesia. This morning began a series of things in a search for more answers and a plan to proceed.

Originally, doctors were going to remove a skin tag in her diaper area.  However, in thinking more about it, they decided to wait.  Based on its size and the unknown intricacies of her vascular malformation at this point, they didn't want to risk the bleeding at this point.

Also, we have seen a bit of oozing out of her belly button, so they have ordered a renal ultrasound to rule out a couple of things with that.

They have completed the vaginal and rectal exploration, determining surgery is not necessary in either place - praise the Lord!  And, she's currently having an MRI of her abdomen, pelvis, and spine - as well as an MRA of her abdomen and pelvis.  All of that imaging will help us see exactly where the spinal cord is tethered, how deep and intricate the vascular malformation is, and if there are any other issues that we might not currently be aware of.  

So, we wait.

In our two months of waiting and finding answers, of wondering what time will bring and of trying new things to make her more comfortable, I have learned a lot.  And while our cross is not someone else's, and knowing there will always be someone with a much heavier cross, God has revealed so much.

I've learned...

...there is still so much goodness and beauty to be found...even though her body is broken in ways, her soul is whole, and she brings us so much joy.

...when people offer to help, it's important I let them, as much I may feel guilty I am not able to help them right away in return.

...that Jeremy and my relationship has never been as important.

...there are days when I basically seem to have a good handle on things and days that hit me out of the blue to remind me life is peaks and valleys.

...sometimes it feels like I can't possibly think of anything else.

...health issues in one child can cause me to feel like I can't find a good balance in taking care of the noticeably sick one while also meeting the needs of the others.

...help comes in so many forms: meals, prayers, texts, calls, caring for kids, sitting and visiting, or even caring for your helpers.  But, it's important to let others help in the way they feel called (have I mentioned I struggle with this, hehe?!). 

...a million cares and concerns can be eased with the weight of a sweet baby on my shoulder.

...we are never alone.

...God prepares us for these moments years before we face them and He gives us the grace necessary for the moment (maybe not the year, or the day, or even the hour to come)...but the moment He has covered.

...miracles and affirmations aren't always what we envision, but if our eyes are open, they are all around.

More than anything, I've learned this...

...it is important to reach out.  

I've spent my life not knowing exactly what to say.  I've "put myself in someone's position" and convinced myself they want to be left alone or not bothered.  I've never been able to "understand what he/she was going through."  And so I haven't sent the text.  I haven't made the call.  I haven't popped a note in the mail to let someone know simply that I care.  I haven't stopped by to give a hug.  And, I've realized now...it doesn't matter what you say (by and large).  It doesn't matter how you show your love.  It doesn't matter if you were "never that close".  There is nothing too small.  Reach out.

Say something.

I have learned that so beautifully in the last nine weeks, and the only way I can describe it is humbling.  To feel encapsulated by prayer and love is indescribable.  I sit here and think, "How will we ever return all of this love?"

But, I know this.  Our strength has come from the prayers of hundreds/thousands of people...many who we don't know.  When people say, "I don't know how you are doing this."  I do.  Because of you.  God through you.  

Thank you.

(a few days later...)

She came out of anesthesia like a champ.  She was downing the sugar water and "talking" to anyone who came to her bedside.  

The next day in our meeting with dermatology we learned there is not much more we can do for her ulcers.  We are doing the best we can, and they may heal or we may struggle with them for some time.  Only time will tell.

The following day was full of appointments to discuss results.  

We learned that her vascular malformation at this point does not appear to be very deep...a huge answer to prayer!  There was a mass on the scan that they thought was worth doing bloodwork on - it came back clear, praise God!  Her kidneys also looked great!

The spine was a different story.  Her sacrum is very "messed up" and her spinal cord tether is one of the most complicated cases they've ever seen.  The neurosurgeon is unsure if he will be able to de-tether it, but he will try!  It will likely pose problems with bowel and bladder control as well as mobility.  

But again, we wait, and we pray.  And we do the very best we can with God's grace moment by moment.  

And we ask God for healing, because miracles do happen.

I Didn't Want a Child with Special Needs

 

I was afraid.  Always.  With every new pregnancy, there would be moments in that first trimester that I would worry myself sick about the possibility of something being "wrong" with the baby.*

*Before I go any further, I am not well-versed in this nomenclature, and I'm sure I'll say the wrong thing unknowingly, but I never mean to offend.

I would anxiously await the genetic testing or anatomy scan and breathe a huge sign of relief when everything came back clear.  Although I know God doesn't work this way, I would think to myself, "We've had four (or five or six) healthy babies...when will my luck run out?

Typing all of this out humiliates me.  It wasn't that I didn't love those around me with special needs.  It was that I didn't think I could handle it.  It was fine for my neighbor, or that beautiful woman of faith who had a special needs child (or five!), but I wasn't that strong.

Then, we found out at twenty-three weeks that Agnes had a two-vessel cord...which meant next to nothing.  She could have health issues, or she could be completely fine.  Since her genetic testing was normal, I didn't give it much more thought.  She was "good."

Then the nursery nurse's words, "Umm, just so you're not alarmed when you change her, she doesn't look quite normal...and she has a big bruise down her leg."

Needless to say, a million questions ran through my mind -- I hadn't even been able to completely see her as I was hemorrhaging.  Would we be able to announce we really had an Agnes?  Was she okay?  What about the bruising?

As we learned more those two days, and the doctors threw out the name of a syndrome to attach to her health issues, the questions and unknowns weighed heavily on us.  What would she go through?  What crosses would she have to carry?  Would she grow and develop normally?  Would she be in pain?  Those thoughts made me ache for her.

I wanted to fix it all.  I wanted to take her pain.  I wanted to carry her crosses.

But...in those early moments, was it anything like I thought it would be...the things I was afraid of?  No.  Not at all.  In fact, the love for her was fierce...deeper than I knew I had in me...more life-giving than I could imagine.

And, that's when I realized the birth of a child with special needs wasn't a curse.  Instead, it was a tremendous gift.  God chose us.  He gave Agnes to us.  And, while I don't for a minute believe God causes pain or punishes us with trials, I do believe He uses them to bring us closer to Him.  And, that He has already.

I was asked if I did anything during pregnancy to cause this.  And, while I can't honestly say I haven't thought of that, the very next day a man I didn't even know shared the story of the blind man in the gospels...the one in which His disciples asked if he or his parents had sinned to cause this, and to which Jesus replied: "Neither he nor his parents sinned; it is so that the works of God might be made visible through him."

It is so the works of God might be made visible through Agnes.

Later that week, I was listening to a podcast from Father Mike Schmitz...and he said this:

The best is going to be the cross...for me and for you. The best is going to be denying this part of me who wants to run away and say yes to the Father’s will...for me and for you.  

In our love for others we want to spare them...pain, difficulties, struggle. But that means our love would spare them from greatness. It would spare them from the opportunity to love heroically. It would spare them from the opportunity to lay down their lives out of love.

In our desire to make things easier for them, we would give them mediocrity and rob them
of the opportunity to live and to live heroically.

Love demands sacrifice.

My tendency as a mother is to want to take this pain and "being different" away from Agnes.  But, in doing so, I would rob her of the opportunity to use her crosses to bring others closer to Him.  And, to do that would be to play God.

So, instead, these last five weeks, we have said so many prayers...begging for healing and understanding...asking God to show us how best to care for Agnes and how to lighten her burden...all the while praying we use what He has given her and us to bring greater glory to Him.

Agnes may never receive the miracle of full healing, but there are miracles happening all around us...in the prayers offered, the the mindsets changed, in the finding of excellent medical care, and in the humbling of her mother.

The diagnosis I used to run from in fear is the one I'm thanking God for now.  I'm so humbled and honored that God chose us to be Agnes's parents.  I just pray I'm worthy of such a gift.

I didn't want a child with special needs.  I needed one.

She is how He desires.  And, that, is perfect.

For Such a Time as This

 

Hearing that Agnes had health issues the day she was born (and learning every hour that they were more complicated than originally thought) was heart-wrenching.

In one breath, I knew we could handle whatever God laid before us with our precious baby girl.  In another, I couldn't stop the tears thinking of the future she would have and the crosses she would carry.  I wanted to take those crosses from her (and many times I still want that).  I wanted her to be "normal" - I didn't want to worry what this might mean for her and what it could mean for our family.  I knew next to nothing about what was in store (and still don't), and that was maybe the most difficult part.  The unknown...the waiting...seems to always be the most difficult.

We came home from the hospital both physically and mentally drained.  Where would we go from here? When would a team of specialists call and let us know they could see her?  What would we tell the other kids?  How would our lives change?

As we waited to hear the next steps, we decided to tell the older kids about Agnes, knowing some of her health issues were visible to them and that we would be away from home from time to time seeing her doctors.  When we told them, there were many questions, tears and uncertainty.  Then our oldest, Carter, looked at Jeremy and said, "We drink from the cup God gives us, and there's not a hair that falls from our heads that He doesn't know about."  Praise God for the affirmation through the mouth of a little one.  That was the beginning of the revelation of so many affirmations in the last four weeks.

When we were worried about genetic issues, I remembered a question I asked a close friend-now-pediatrician ten years ago that prepared me for that moment at birth.  When we discovered she had a tethered spinal cord, I then realized why I met my wonderful friend Amy two years ago...whose daughter is on the other end of surgery for her tethered spinal cord.  Each new day brought many "signs" of God's presence always.  Some more distinct than others.

I, of course, arrived home and promised myself I wouldn't google any of her conditions until I heard from doctors.  But, I read as many medical journal articles as I could get my hands on and joined a Facebook group for parents of LUMBAR kiddos.  One specific journal article my pediatrician gave me to read.  It was full of information and studied a case that looked eerily similar to Agnes's.  The week I read that article, a friend and former roommate of mine in Houston had an appointment at Texas Children's for her daughter.  She saw a new-to-her doctor that day in the department of hematology, and she casually talked to her about Agnes.  The doctor gave my friend a chart about LUMBAR to send me.  I looked at it and realized I had seen it before.  It was in the article from my pediatrician.  This new doctor for my friend was the author of the journal!

I immediately emailed her asking for advice on Agnes.  Within 24 hours, this specialist emailed me with the compassion and kindness I prayed for, plus an eagerness to help.  She was so open and wonderful and said they would love to see Agnes in Houston.  We went back and forth and finally got an appointment scheduled with her and a dermatologist who wrote the article with her.

In the meantime, I was looking for a saint to develop more of a devotion to specifically to ask for healing of Agnes.  At this point my mind is on overload and I'm obsessed with finding the "perfect" and most "powerful" saint.  Knowing how silly I was being, I still worried and decided to ask intercession from as many as I could think of.  Her namesakes of course  (Agnes, Mother Teresa and Mary Magdalene).  Then, we almost named her Philomena, so her.  Then, St. Therese because I love her.  Saint Gemma patron of back issues.  Alfonsus Liguori for the same reason.  Then, Blessed Chiara Badano - as she's a blessed and may need a miracle.  (If you don't understand the asking of prayers from saints, think of it as asking your friends for prayers.  They don't answer them...they just pray for you, too.  And, the saints are in Heaven with Jesus, so why not ask them to ask Him for you, all the while praying to Jesus yourself...the more the merrier).

My sister organized a novena to Blessed Chiara.  In the meantime, a priest was visiting my parents and offered to celebrate a private Mass for our family.  My parents brought over a saint statue for him to bless for Bell Road Beef, too.  Well, they walked into our house, showed us the saint, and said they were sent the wrong one, but it would still be good to get it blessed.  They thought it was Saint Cecilia.  We still had it blessed because it happened to be the name of this priest's parish!

The next morning I was sitting at the table drinking coffee, and I took a closer look at the saint statue.  She didn't have a harp or musical instrument like Saint Cecilia usually does, so I Googled "what saint is typically depicted with an arrow and an anchor."

Saint Philomena.

Then I discovered Saint Philomena is the patron of infants and babies, was born and died in the same years saint Agnes did (how neat if they were friends!), were both 13 at death, and both died as martyrs for their faith.  Wow.  I think that "wrong" saint chose us.

The same priest came back through town on the day we were finishing our novena and gave to Agnes holy oil he had from the tomb of Saint Philomena seven years ago!  He said he went there on his first pilgrimage as a seminarian and bought the oil not knowing what he needed it for, but that God always revealed that to him, and seven years later, he knew Agnes needed it.

Fast forward to the next week when my friend was taking her girl back to Texas Children's to hopefully get a diagnosis for her blood disease.  She texted that morning asking for a saint to intercede for her.  I looked up the saint of blood disorders...Saint Philomena!

As she was driving to the hospital she saw a tiny Catholic bookstore and called to see if they had a medal of Saint Philomena.  She was on speaker phone and the lady said they've never had anything of Saint Philomena, and just as she said it, the other owner in the background yelled that a lady had just brought in a medal of Saint Philomena giving it to them saying maybe someone could use it.

These saints are powerful, I tell you.

Then on Tuesday, Houston called to ask if we would rather get Agnes seen sooner...in Colorado the very next day.  I've had some struggles with that...just in my mind thinking Houston must be the best for Agnes since those two doctors are there, but they work with the team in Colorado and I have to believe wouldn't refer us there unless they were very confident as well.  So, to Colorado we went.  I was a little sad, too, that I wouldn't know as many people in Colorado if we needed anything.  Yet God came through again, reminding me of a family we met 18 months ago who stopped by our house on the way to OK.  And, my instagram messages went nuts with offers to help from Colorado people.  God is good.

All throughout the past four weeks, I've had so many reach out with prayers, offers to help, stories, and connections.  I've discovered why certain things in the past happened...in order to prepare us for such a time as this.  

Is God "punishing" us with a sick kid?  No.  Does he allow these situations for a greater good?  Absolutely.  And is He with us every step of the way, giving us the grace to handle each day?  YES!  Truly, I feel so blessed to be Agnes's mom, and she has already deepened our faith as a family.  I have a feeling that big things are in store for her, and us...but more on that in another post.

The First Half

I don't think there's any doubting that I love pregnancy and childbirth.  I mean, of course, not all of it, but most of it!  This time around, I wanted to document the days more, in the event that it's my last...because I don't want to forget.  But, here I am at 22 weeks, and this is basically my first post.  Good intentions.  Bad follow through.

I don't want to forget...

...the emotions that come with seeing that faint, faint line.  This time around, I was in our guest bathroom, cleaning up remnants of our third round of a stomach bug (while my husband was in another room, sick), and I thought, what the heck, "why not take a test?"  The previous months had contained more than one chemical pregnancy, so while I was anxious to see that second line, I also was leery of it.  Would it stick this time?  Would it fade away again?  It was darker than that last time, so I had hope!  Three days later, I told Jeremy.

...the back and forth between being so excited and my pants quickly not fitting.  I know, I know.  This is vain.  But, with every pregnancy, regardless of how in or out of shape I've been before, I show a little earlier and get bigger faster.  While, I wouldn't trade any of it for the miracle of another life, the thickness that every single part of my body becomes sometimes gets to me (especially when I know I shouldn't have eaten the Oreos, ha).

...that after about two weeks of knowing I'm carrying a new life, I quickly wonder what I was thinking.  It's so easy to forget about the nausea, food aversions, and just general feeling of yuckiness when you're not in it, but when you are in it, man the minutes creep by!  This time was more difficult than others.  My girl pregnancies have always been, but I was so worried at first that something was wrong. 

...that while I feel huge now, I will look back to this week in a a few weeks and laugh at that feeling.

...the first kicks.  How amazing it is to know they're from teeny tiny life inside...and how much I forget to appreciate that at night when I'm trying to sleep and he/she is trying to do anything but that.

...the beauty of seeing what God created a woman's body to do...as everything stretches and transforms to house this babe, and as frustrated as I get with myself for not looking a certain way, exercising enough or eating right, it's difficult not to walk past a mirror and simultaneously thank God for the blessing.

So, for the next eighteen or so weeks, hopefully I'll document a bit more, remember to count it all a blessing and dream of who this little one will be.

Oh To Be So Bold

I read a book last year, and there were times it was difficult for me to do so.  Aren't the ones that hit close to home always a bit of a gut check?!  Its contents are all in its title, Unoffendable, and I soon realized that there are certain things in my life that make me more defensive than others.  Father Mike Schmitz said there is an easy remedy to being offended.  You can ask yourself a question...is what people are saying about you true?  If it is true, than you really have no reason to be offended.  If it isn't, you don't have a reason either.  Simple, right?

Sometimes.

But others, I've realized I'm too sensitive.  I care if I hurt people's feelings.  I care when they hurt mine.  Yet, I try and try to be different...more detached.

Again, sometimes it works.  Sometimes it doesn't.

Fast forward to the point...I just returned from one of the most wonderful vacations with my in-laws ever.  We spent a week on the beach in Florida, and from the sugar-like sand to the unreal color of the water and delicious food, it was perfection...something we had looked forward to for months!

But, before we even landed in the Sunshine State, the comments about the size of my family were rolling in.  And, I've decided, that it's time for me to be a bit more bold.  If others are so forthcoming in their concerns about the soon-to-be seven little people who have nothing to do with them, then maybe it is time their mother stood up a bit more when their existence is deemed a mistake.

Typically I smile and give a little laugh, deep down hurting and yet wanting to make these people understand just how much I love my big family.  But, then I envision those days in college when some of my Protestant friends drilled me on my Catholic faith over and over again to the point that I realized the frustration with not being able to convey why I loved my faith to the point that they may love it, too, usually just resulted in hard feelings and an evening that was anything but fruitful.  So instead, I try to live my life and let its message speak for itself.  Sometimes it does.  And again, other times it doesn't.

So here I am now with a few things to say.

For the person who counts my children loudly while rolling his eyes...I have six.  And, another coming.  And, I might have more later.  I am not sorry for that.  I am only sorry you cannot see the beauty in each human life.

For the man who wanted to give my husband the contact name for his urologist...that is never happening.  He isn't broken, and therefore does not need fixing.

For those worried that I might not remember I have six other children who need a mommy when I announce a seventh coming...being their mommy is what I do, all day long, every day.  I love it, even on the hard days (and there are some really hard ones).  I am healthy, and no I don't know what each day will bring or if a pregnancy will result in a tragedy.  But, none of us do.  So, I will remain open to the will of Someone who is in much greater control of that than I'll ever be.

For the people and their exasperated, "My God!(s)" (sorry, don't know how to annotate that), yes, He is my God, too, and He gave us each of these miracles.  And, with the follow up, "Bless your heart!(s)" -- my heart is is a pretty great place right now.

For those who tell me that it's time to do a little planning, I'm getting a little out of my comfort zone here since you seemed to as well...each one of these seven (and the two lost) were planned, down to the day.  Yes, we know what causes it.  We do have a TV.  We are about as responsible as they come.  And, maybe we plan to a fault.  Maybe a little spontaneity would be good for us....but there again, it may result in something that you apparently think isn't good for you.  So, we'll hold off on that for a bit.

For the friend who called my other friend to engage in a talk of how I might have lost my mind...maybe I have, but I wouldn't have it any other way.  And if you ever want to ask me why we choose to do life this way, I'd be happy to visit.

Honestly, for anyone who decides to crack a joke at our expense (really, is there such thing as "just joking" - or is it always simply an easy way to say what you want to say without bearing the burden of hurting the brunt of the so-called joke)...don't.

Why the comments?  Why the questioning?  Why do you care so much about a family that isn't even your own?  Truly, I would like to know.

We have never asked for help raising these kids.  We've never asked for financial support.  We have not brought seven children into the world to affect anyone else.

Wait, we have.

I have been pregnant over four years and have spent the last eight raising these little gifts in hopes of changing the world.  I want them to be a shining example of life in a culture that often sees theirs as a mistake.  I want the world to see the looks on these babies' faces when a new sibling of theirs comes home from the hospital.  I want those of you who suggest the multiple fixes for their parents' "behavior" to see that there is not a thing that needs fixing.

In being open to life, we are maybe "giving up" what you deem to be a successful life.   But, maybe that definition of success is where everything went wrong.

This last week in Florida may be the only vacation we ever take of its kind.  Because while we love escaping to a new place just as much as anyone else, the truth is...we may not be able to afford it because of all of these kiddos.  We may never meet Mickey in person.  Our kids may not receive the latest gadgets every year from the man in the red suit.  They may not graduate from college or trade school debt-free.  But what if they don't even go?  What if I told you the memories they make with each other, the support they have from six more siblings, and the state of their souls (and ours!) is far more important?  Or what about this...that with each new addition, they are learning to be less demanding, less selfish, and more thankful for the true gifts in this life?

You might not believe it.

We may not have it all.  But, what if we do?

Yes it is difficult.  In fact, raising children is the most difficult thing I have ever done and will ever do (and I've had a doozy or two of a boss in my life).  Their lives right now are completely dependent on me and my husband.  The way we raise them and the examples we set for them form their foundation.  And our goal?  Not to make your life easier by not having to see this crazy family over-populating the Earth (by the way, that's wrong, too), but instead, to do everything in our power to point back and eventually get back to Him.

I know just what a challenge that is.  And, truthfully, I fail miserably at it daily.  But, really, that is all I should care about.

I must work on that.

Because while I wonder why I let this bother me so much at times, deep down I think I know...I would never say something like that to you.  I don't offer my opinion on what might make a stranger's failing marriage work.  I don't scoff at the person who has no children because I think I know better what is good for them.  I don't know what each of you is dealing with daily.  And, frankly, you don't know that about me either.

So, why not build each other up and draw people back into the beauty that can be life?

This is us.  Almost seven now.  Maybe more later.  And, I won't let the world convince them that they are mistakes.  Ever.

Please don't try to do so either.*

*For those of you who have been so very kind about our family, thank you.  I cannot tell you what it does for my soul.  I don't expect those compliments, ever, and that's not why I'm raising these babies either.  But they sure do make the jokes easier to bear.

Of Human Life

I've written and re-written this blog post multiple times.  There is so much I want to say, yet I want to keep it short enough that it is read.  I've gone different routes, typed and erased many lines, and have finally decided to try to simply share my heart.  So here goes...

Typically when I find something beautiful, rich and moving, I want to share it with everyone I come in contact with.  I want to shout it from the rooftops, sing its praises to anyone who will listen and live in its joy completely.  But for some reason, this time, I haven't.  Until now.  So bear with me, this might be a bit longer than most.  But, it's been one in the making for years, actually.  I just finally have to courage to share the beauty behind our way of life without holding back, without intending to burden or offend, and with complete joy.  Because this is us.  This is the beauty in what we believe.  And to hold back would be to keep something from you that I have no right to keep to myself.

Humanae Vitae.  Of Human Life.  An encyclical written fifty years ago by Pope Paul VI.  Its inception came at a time when social pressures were challenging the Church's opposition to contraception...a position, which until 1930, all Christian communities unanimously held.  In essence, Humanae Vitae is the beautifully written teaching of God's plan for married love and the transmission of life.  In the midst of the opening of Margaret Sanger's free birth control clinics, introduction of the pill and beginning of the sexual revolution, Blessed Pope Paul VI, in this encyclical, reiterated the Church's position on married love: that it was to remain free, total, faithful and fruitful...always.


Why did the other Christian communities cave to the pressures of society?  Why don't we all teach still that the sacrament of marriage mirrors the Holy Trinity, with each being giving of themselves completely, holding nothing back?

I don't know.

But I do know that it bears repeating.

Fifty years ago, Blessed Pope Paul VI foresaw and foretold what could come of our society if we bought into the lies of contraception.  He envisioned a society in which women were objectified.  A society which made women always available because of the separation of sex and babies.  One which was littered with pornography, adultery and fornication .  And, one in which babies would come to be seen as choices or mistakes rather than the gifts they are.

Was the world free from these things before?  No.  Yet, look where we are today.

Here is what some do not realize: the Church doesn't teach that we have to have as many children as we can.  It does not even teach that we have to have any.  She simply asks that we always remain open to life...that no barrier or sterilization ever comes between the unitive and procreative pieces that make up each marital act.

Is being open to life difficult?  It can be.  But really, any form of self-mastery and sacrifice will always involve pain.  That pain may come in the form of a constant struggle to do the right thing.  It may come in choosing to say no when we really want to say yes.  It may come in knowing that as much as you want something, it may never happen.  It may be in the form of a daily cross that only you know and carry.  As written in this beautiful study, "When we gave our lives to Christ, we didn't sign up for easy.  We signed up to be conformed to Jesus -- to live like Him, love like Him, and die like Him.  And we did that because we knew in doing so, we would find not death, but life.

The death we experience in any form of self-denial - sexual or otherwise - is real.  But, so is the life we find through it."

I love my faith.  I love the difficulty to which it sometimes calls me.  I even love knowing that whatever pain I may be feeling can in some tiny way be joined to His on the cross, as if I may shoulder just a splinter of His cross.  

I love being open to life.  Am I excited about this seventh baby?  Thrilled!  Am I sad about the early losses we experienced before this little miracle?  Of course.  I would also be lying if I said in being open to life I didn't at times worry about having the means to help them through college, making sure they have what they "need" and doing/having the things that sometimes are made to appear like childhood necessities.  Therein lies part of the journey though.  With each new baby, I become a bit more dependent on Him and a little less concerned with those wants I somehow made needs.  

I also used to think that I would have all of my babies before I was thirty.  That did not happen.  Then it moved to forty.  And, while I never know if the one I'm carrying will be the last, somehow I realize that my plan to just be very strict about NFP once I reached "advanced maternal age" solely for the reason of being at that age wasn't really being open at all.

So again, I learn to trust.  I learn that seven children doesn't necessarily mean lots of rest.  I learn that my body won't necessarily look and feel like I always want it to.  I learn that sometimes people will not understand the choices my husband and I have made.  

Some of those lessons are harder than others, and I'm embarrassed to say how many I have to learn over and over.

But in the last eight years, as we have welcomed six, lost two, and anxiously await the arrival of our seventh, what I have learned most is that He has loved me enough to create me in a way that mirrors Him, while giving me the gift of being a vehicle to bring a unique soul into this world.  Isn't that beautiful?!  Isn't His love for us and for His children amazing?  Better than anything I can imagine...just as He planned it.

In His truth in this encyclical, His truth about marital love, simply put...God loves you.  He loves who He created you to be.  He loves who you are.  He loves when you follow His will and He loves you when He has to call you back into His arms, enveloping with a mercy bigger than any of your sins.  He didn't design you and me with a plan to make our lives miserable.  Instead, He gave us the tools to choose Him over and over again in order to be at peace.  He has loved you and me enough to guide us back to Him...in every area of our lives, from our decisions about daily life to those made in the bedroom.   He is in complete control.  All, we have to do is continue to say yes to His will.  And, I cannot think of anything that gives me more peace.

(yes, it's a girl).

I was sent this study by the women at Endow and it has so moved me and reignited my love for our Church and its teachings.  I can not recommend it more.

If you are Catholic and looking to reignite your commitment to this truth...if you are not and would like to know why your faith community may no longer teach the same message...if you simply want to understand God's plan for married love, read this.  Delve in.  Cover to cover.  And, ask yourself the hard questions.  You can handle it.  You can live it!

He is Risen...and Lent is Over

Well, Lent is over.  And, once again, I feel like I kind of failed.  I know that's an issue with pride, and that, in and of itself, needs improvement.  I didn't give anything up.  I was only going to read my Lenten study and pray more.  Guess how many days I even made it with my study this year?  I think 14?  And, I hear over and over again that we need to let Him write our Lent.  But, sometimes it's so hard for me to not view that just as an excuse to not try or a cop-out.  Isn't this supposed to be a period of fasting from the things that pull us away from Him?  Aren't we supposed to turn our eyes and heart back to Him and His passion over and over again and in some way feel that in our own lives?

Instead, maybe I only participated in two weeks of my study.  Maybe I ate more junk than I typically do during ordinary season.  Maybe I even did more internet shopping than I have in months.  And, that plan to not yell at my children maybe even got worse than it was before Ash Wednesday?

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!

I had it all wrong.  I seem to always.  I want to focus on making me better.  I want to correct all of my failings (and believe me, there are a lot).  I want to be less addicted to sugar, online shopping, yelling and failing again and again to make prayer a prominent part of my daily life.

I want to fix me.  

But, I can't.

He can.  But, I can't seem to let Him, and I have no idea why.  And as every Ash Wednesday rolls back around, I give it my hardest try (or maybe I don't)...but again it ends in a way I don't want it to...with a greater inward focus and an even farther distance from He who is calling me closer.

Lent was truly given to me this year.  It came in the form of the death of a grandmother, maybe ten days that weren't infested with sickness (we finally fumigated our home, ha!), and exhaustion.  It came in the form of having many opportunities to work on my patience with my children yet missing them almost every time.

And, in the stillness, I know He was saying, "Little one, I'm giving you so many opportunities to come to Me...to lay it all down and let me envelop you in my love.  Stop trying so hard to do it all on your own.  Humble yourself and come to Me for help.  That is all I want...you...to come to Me."  But, I didn't.

It was late one evening that I was spent and ready to fall flat into bed that I picked up He and I.  I had not journaled, read my Bible, or prayed silently in days.  I really just wanted to sleep but I felt guilty.  And this is what I read...(Jesus' words to his daughter, Gabrielle)

"Keep in mine this prayer, 'Lord deliver me from anxiety about trifles.  Everything is insignificant apart from God whose life in you should daily seek to increase.'"

"With your merit in mind, I wanted you to seek Me in the darkness and to discover Me again in the half-light.  Light untold will be for later on.  Didn't I myself pass through dark hours when My divinity seemed to drift apart from My humanity?  How I fraternized with you, taking upon Myself all of your weaknesses, My poor little ones.  I was indeed 'a man' among men.  And even before my passion, I knew what suffering was.  I loved it for the love of you, My children.  Love it for the love of Me.  I'll transform it into transformations for others, and into glory for you, since you find everything again in Heaven.  So take courage for suffering, My little children.  There are some people who can't do without suffering, so deeply have they experienced how it brings them close to Me."

"Then turn your sorrowful eyes upon Me.  Show Me your sufferings, My dear little ones.  You are already in My heart even though you thought you were so far from Me, so far.  Day by day, try to find Me in you, and there, like very little children, give Me the marks of tenderness that you would give to a mother or a beloved father.  How happy you will be when you have acquired this habit.  How sweet your life will become."

Love suffering.

Love suffering for the love of Him.

Got it, God.  Help me to turn my everything toward you.

My pride fills me up so much that I desire perfection and convince myself that He desires that, too.  And, while I do believe He wants us to strive after Him in the very best way we can, He doesn't want us to do it on our own.  We can't.  And, in thinking so, we don't need Him.  And, in failing over and over, He shows us that His mercy endures, and than only His hands can both carry His cross and ours.  

Forgive me, Lord.  And, help me.

We truly did have a blessed Easter.  Even in my frustrations with myself, I do know how much I have to be thankful for.  Thankful for this faith that continually pushes me closer to Him, for the trials that make me do these inner-critiques, and these seven people who show me what it means to be His. 

We spent the day at one of my most favorite Masses of the year (Christ the Lord is Risen Today will always be one of my favorites) next to Good Friday, ate a wonderful meal with family, and sat back and watched the joy of childhood.

I get caught up in myself too much and in trying to do it all right all the time, but the truth is, I don't even know what that is, and I just run myself ragged trying to be something that is impossible for me.  I'm going to try not to feel like a fraud.  I'm going to try not to busy myself just for the sake of being busy.  And, I'm going to try to let Him regain control of my life...if for nothing else than showing these sweet ones how to let Him love us.

Have the most blessed Easter season!  He. Is. Risen.  Alleluia!

Thirty-Six

Another year, another sweet birthday from the family!  Jeremy ordered hotdogs from Portillos, since we love a good Chicago dog, and it's always a crowd pleaser.  He added some tamales this time, too.  While they weren't the typically New Mexico tamales we are used to, they were still so good!  My sweet mom made a strawberry cake (a childhood favorite), and they came to celebrate with us!

What I love most about my birthdays now is the excitement from the kids!  Sure, I love celebrating with family (I am not that into a big party with everyone singing me happy birthday, though), but seeing the kids' faces when they wake up to scream happy birthday to me is really what makes it all.

We had to have hats, and Henry even wore one.  

And, he wasn't too sad about a piece of cake to celebrate another birthday either!

God also painted the sky so beautifully that February evening...reminding me that it's not really about me at all, ever.  It's always about Him and noticing the very life He's given us.  

Sure, I love a good giftcard or a fun surprise, but as each birthday comes, I'm able to reflect a bit more on the life in these years and not just the packages on this day.  I've got my seven greatest blessings in my home every single day, my two greatest examples living just minutes away, and a way of life that allows for a slower pace and the opportunity for a bit more reflection.

Sure, I often fail in the day-to-day to sit and reflect on those blessings.  I notice them in waves, and I fail to notice them, too.  But, on my birthday this year, they were so obvious.  I know I said it's been a long winter in my last post, and it has in ways.  But, there is always good.  Always.  And, I really have so much to thank God for. 

You included!

Not Something You See Every Day

It has been a long winter.  Usually it's one of my favorite times of year.  But, it hasn't snowed here this year (the part that creates the coziness that I love).  And, we've been sick most of it.  Flu B, strep, stomach bug, ear infections, RSV, Flu A and sinus infections.  We've had something every week since January 5th, with a few days of reprieve here and there.  None of it was anything we couldn't handle, and as always, it could be so much worse.  Then, my grandmother passed away.  It's all life, I know -- it just seems like it has made for an interesting first part of 2018.

I mentioned it to a friend the other day, and her response was, "Have you been praying for patience lately?"

Umm, yes.

Based on her follow-up, praying for patience isn't for the faint of heart.  In fact, it's almost like asking God to test your strength.  But man, do I need that patience.

I feel like I start my days thinking, "I will react calmly and lovingly to everything today."  And, then someone opens their mouth, and I'm already failing.

I get tired of telling my kids to quit fighting, quit arguing, and quit pouting.  I struggle with the homeschooling days that take much longer than they should simply because a task isn't fun.  I, sadly, even get frustrated when at times, I cannot walk because a crying baby is attached to my leg.

Yes, I love these little ones with every ounce of my being, and I pray daily that they know that.  But, some days (and those days seem an awful lot lately), I know I'm not showing them enough.  I know my actions are glazed over with a coating of frustration and irritation that even those two-year-old eyes aren't blind to.  And, I hate that.

I've made Lenten promises that I don't even remember (that's how great Lent is going this year).  And, I feel like I wake up to the same resolutions to make this day a new day, only to make the exact same resolution the next because of a(nother) failed attempt.  Every day I think, oh "I'll do this or that today" and almost every night comes, and I haven't done it, and I just go to bed instead.  It feels somewhat like the same day on repeat.

I haven't picked up my camera in weeks.  I haven't blogged in longer.  The winter projects I wanted to do...undone.  How I wanted to give more energy to homeschooling and making it fun...still haven't.  The time I wanted to carve out just for Jesus...still not carved out.  So, here we are, almost mid-March.  And, there isn't much to show for it around here.  

Except this...

This is how I found these two the other day.  Reading together.  Sitting together calmly.  Even sharing books without hitting, screaming or otherwise hurting the other.

I took it all in.  

You see, I get in these little funks here and there where I feel like either I'm not doing things "right" or I'm not doing enough.  I'm not sad.  I'm not throwing a pity party (please know that as you read).  I'm just getting this out there on paper, because sometimes, it just feels better.  I know how blessed we are, and I truly love my life.

Sometimes, like this winter, I just wish I was doing a bit better job of it all. 

Maybe I just need to pray for detachment instead ;)

Slowing Down with Sickness

Oh man, it's been a little crazy around here.  Nothing that not everyone has gone through at some point, and nothing serious, but the kids have been sick since the first of this month.  First it was flu, then strep.  Then a stomach bug, and now some other upper respiratory thing.  Yes, we're tired.  Yes, being sick seems to magnify everything else in their little lives.  Part of me is tired of them being sick for my sake, but more so, I'm tired for them.  I'm tired of hearing them not sleeping at night, and coughing all day.  I'm tired of them feeling achey and not hungry.

BUT!  And, this is a huge "but" - we really are so well.  In these teeny sicknesses, I have to always give thanks.  Thanks that this is all we have right now.  Thanks for overall extremely healthy children.  Thanks for the opportunity to slow down.

One of those days, we did a little art.

I have no idea what it is like to suffer with a sick child.  And, I ache for those who know that well.  I don't know how you see them hurt so much and not break down yourself.  These days of mild sickness are constant reminders of the blessings we've been given and how thankful I am for however long they last.  

We are on our way to an immunologist in two weeks to see if we can determine what has been causing a chronic cough in Carter.  I'm ready to know what it might be and how we might make it better.  

God bless those of you with sick ones right now, too!