Life: Not On My Terms

Not that it ever has been, of course. But sometimes it's easy to forget I'm not totally in control.

Spring Break 2007:
mojitos at the Opera Bar watching the sun set over Sydney? totally on my terms

One of the beautiful (and terrifying and messy) things about motherhood is that it constantly reminds me that I'm not really in control. I'm in charge of nearly everything, but I'm not in control.

Side note: one of the joys of that magical moment of Daddy getting home from work is that there is someone else to make a decision! To be responsible for something! To be in charge!

For all the decisions I make in any given day I still find it somewhat shocking how little of my life is on my terms. You’d think I’d get used to this. Maybe someday I will, but it is not this day! Four and a half years of motherhood haven't cured me of that particular delusion yet.

And really, the biggest (and totally uncomfortable, upsetting, shocking) piece of it all is, that life isn’t on my terms. You see where this is going, I’m sure.

Surprise!

Okay, not a surprise per se, because yes, we do know what causes that. But definitely not part of our plans at this point. And that was hard for me, because they were really responsible, good plans. Plans that we prayerfully formed around some significant health concerns on my part, among other things.

And it was also unexpected because we did everything right NFP-wise. After a lengthy discussion with our Creighton Model instructor all we were able to determine is that we apparently have the dubious distinction of being in that 1-3ish % (depending on which study you look at) for whom the method simply doesn't work the way it is supposed to. For some reason it's really important for me to throw that out there. We were using an actual, scientific, effective fertility awareness method (not the rhythm method) and we were using it correctly--but sometimes even that doesn't work. Look for further reflections on our experience with NFP at some future point because I have already been trying to write this post for several months and if I wait until I have figured out how to say everything I want to/feel like I need to say then I will never finish it!

SO. Pregnant. Surprised. Upset. Scared. Anxious. That's where I was when we found out in early March. We told family and a few friends and asked for prayers, but that was all. I wasn't ready to talk about being pregnant, especially not in a public setting like social media, until I found some peace with this situation. Let me be clear, we loved this baby even during that first week in March where I was sure I was pregnant but refusing to take a test because then there was still a chance that this was just a really bizarre cycle. I didn't want to be pregnant right now but I loved and wanted this specific child. Complicated? Maybe, maybe not. Never tell a pregnant woman her emotions don't make sense... but you probably knew that already! (Or anyone, for that matter... "You are emotional AND irrational" is not likely to be helpful in any situation, amiright?).

finally took the plunge and announced Baby #4
on Instagram and Facebook for Mother's Day

It took the entire first trimester and then some for me to come to terms with being pregnant again. Even once I had started to feel a little more excited and a little less scared, I didn't know how to start talking about this baby publicly. It wasn't just mourning the loss of my own plans and letting go of my anxieties--I felt guilty for being pregnant. And especially guilty for being pregnant and not being 100% thrilled about it.

I know so many people--family, close friends, acquaintances from college, blog friends--who are dealing with infertility and/or are grieving the loss of a child. And then here I am over here, just wishing I could somehow manage to wean one baby before getting pregnant with the next. How could I announce this new little life within me in the face of so much pain and suffering? Even more--how could I talk honestly about this pregnancy and my own struggles with it? I determined almost right away to offer my sufferings, major or minor, physical and emotional, for those struggling to conceive or grieving the loss of a child. But could I even say that to anyone? Would it just seem like salt in the wound?

I don't know. I still don't entirely know. But as time goes on and I round the bend into the 3rd trimester, it has started to feel a little ridiculous to have total blog-silence about this baby. So, here we are at 28.5 weeks, announcing the not-quite-imminent arrival of Baby #4 in November. And we are thrilled--really and truly--even as I wonder on a daily basis how I am possibly going to survive another 11ish weeks of this.

Oh, and by the way--Mama's getting reinforcements and we're all pretty thrilled about that too ;)

Living like I used to dream...

I've been meaning to write this post for over seven months now... I feel like if I don't get it out now I'll never get around to it.  Goodbye, perfectionism.

"Don't Get Comfortable" by Brandon Heath was one of my favorite songs my last couple semesters of college.  My favorite line is, "I am gonna show you what I mean, I am gonna love like you've never seen, you are gonna live like you used to dream, this is your new song."

This was my theme song.  For a good chunk of my senior year of college I knew that I would be moving to Sydney (yes, Australia) after graduation to get my PhD in neuropsychology.  I spent my spring break that year in Sydney visiting a couple schools and scoping out my future life.  I was so sure about this next step that I only applied to my top school.  Backup plan?  Who needs a backup plan?  I had the whole thing planned out, down to what I would post as my Facebook status announcing that I had been accepted to the school and would be moving to Australia: "Ashley is about to live like she used to dream."  Yep--we're talking waaaay back in the day when you had to write your Facebook status in the third person unless you wanted it to just look dumb.

And then my application was rejected.  When I got the rejection letter in the mail I immediately went out and bought an international calling card so I could call the admissions office to see if there had been some mistake.  They said I didn't have enough research experience to be considered for the program.  It sounded like some information might have gotten lost in the translation from American to Australian, because I was pretty sure my semester spent on one research project should be enough to get me in the door.  I said I would send more information, and they said they would take another look when they received it.

A couple weeks later I got another letter.  Nope, still not accepted.

Fast forward a couple months, and I'm planning on moving to Denver to study for my MA in Scripture.  A bit of a paradigm shift, but I had nothing better to do (seriously, that was how I felt about it).  I was excited about the program (learning Greek!!!), but I wasn't sure I was going to like Denver.  I mean, it's not Sydney.  So how could I ever really like it?

Fast forward to the end of my first semester.  I'm ready to move back to Nebraska and finish my degree via distance education.  But I guess I'll finish out this first year.

Fast forward to the end of January.  Some girls I'm in Bible study with are headed out to an Irish pub for some live music with friends from high school/college and invite me to join them.

Fast forward to the next January.  I marry the guy I met in that pub.

Fast forward to the next January.  We have a baby.  Etc.

Fast forward to now.  It sure doesn't look like what I was dreaming about my senior year of college.  Heck, it doesn't look too much like what I dreamed about ever.  I always wanted to get married and have a family.  But I never spent my time dreaming about that year and a half we would live with my husband's parents while dealing with a schizophrenic housing market.  I never dreamed about those last, awful, stubborn 15 pounds of baby weight that just wouldn't come off, even after all most nine months, dang it!  I never dreamed I would have two babies who needed me so desperately multiple times a night every night for months and months.  I dreamed about the beauty and joy of marriage and children--I didn't spend much time dreaming about the pain and the sacrifice and the dying-to-self bits.

But you know what?  I am living like I used to dream--I just didn't know how to dream big enough.  Good thing God doesn't limit us to our own dreams.  Good thing He dreams so much bigger for me than I can dream for myself.  Good thing He didn't give me what my poor little misguided 22 year old heart desired.  Thank you God for unanswered prayers (but not the ones I'm praying right now, because clearly I know better now... right?).

And all the joy and beauty that I did dream about doesn't even begin to compare to the real thing.

So I'll keep dreaming.  And I'll keep praying that God teaches me how to dream.  Because nothing brings more peace in the end than allowing God to conform the desires of my heart to his (but ohmygoodness is it a painful process sometimes).

There, that wasn't so hard.

Happy Birthday to Me!

Sunday was my birthday.  I got to spend the day with five of my favorite people in the whole wide world: my  amazing husband, my two beautiful boys, and my wonderful parents.  It was glorious.

picture stolen shamelessly from my dad's blog

On Sunday Alex and I also went under contract for a house.  THE house.  The house of our dreams; the house of our prayers.

This morning we had our inspection.  The house needs some work, and we're excited to make it our own and give it the TLC it needs.  We were thrilled that there was nothing too drastic; there is some mold in the attic which needs to be addressed before we move in, but nothing that can't be taken care of.  If all goes as planned (please oh please keep praying for us!) we'll be homeowners in early August.

And you guys... this house is on a corner.

God is good.

Sleep, glorious sleep!

Saturday night/Sunday early morning were not particularly impressive in the sleep department for either boy.  I'll confess that I started my Mother's Day feeling just the tiniest bit grumpy.  And a little headachey.  And just plain exhausted.  So kind of a normal day.

But we had an absolutely lovely day yesterday.  The boys were very well-behaved at Mass, we had a relaxed breakfast out, Daddy and the boys spoiled me with a necklace, some earrings, and a new scarf (although I'm pretty sure that Liam believes the necklace is intended solely for his own use and resides around my neck merely to provide him with convenient access to it).  The weather was gorgeous and we spent most of the afternoon and evening outside enjoying it (after a brief--okay, almost two hour--date with my computer to finish getting course pages ready for the summer semester to start today).

So all in all it was a wonderful day.  And then.  AND THEN!

The best Mother's Day present of all: sleep.

Liam went down a bit later than usual, conking sometime around 8:30.  Michael was in bed by 9 (sporting an impressive goose egg on his forehead from running straight into a tree shortly before bedtime).  Alex and I have the hardest time getting to be early on Sunday nights because we are just not ready for the weekend to be over--I think we fell asleep about 11.

And then I woke up to Alex's alarm at 5:15.  And of course I had to get  up and go check on Liam to make sure he was still breathing, and of course he was, and of course I almost couldn't go back to sleep because I was so excited that he slept through the night!!!  (And of course I had to immediately plan out facebook and blog announcements for incredible news!)

He must have sensed that there was a vacancy in the bed though, because he woke up just as Alex was leaving for work.  As usual he seemed more ready (readier? apparently--Chrome spell check says yes...) for the day than I was, but I didn't even mind because he slept through the night!!!  I also didn't mind when M woke up 15 minutes later (a whole hour earlier than he usually does), and then wonder of wonders! Liam fell back to sleep while I went to get M out of his crib and slept for another hour and a half.

Oh please oh please oh please let this be the start of a new and glorious age for our family.  We shall call it The Age of Sleep.  And it shall be wonderful.  And ... okay, I'm getting ahead of myself just a bit... you can look forward to a grumpy, whiny blog post sometime in the near future after we go back to our usual 2-4 hour stretches.

And just to keep the wonderfulness going, Michael alternately snuggled with me and danced to Pavarotti at breakfast.

Now, if the house we're going to see this afternoon (!!!) isn't covered in black mold or falling down or infested with ... I don't know, anything ... we'll call it not just a good day but The Standard of Good Days Forever and Ever AMEN.

A rare episode of crafting...

...and only posting this about four months later than I intended.  BUT! It was meant to be!  Ana at time flies when you're having babies is hosting a crafting linkup, and that's finally the motivation I need to actually get this post done.  Hooray!

My niece Abby turned two back in October.  Prior to her birthday, I got the bright idea that I would make her a princess/fairy dress-up outfit.  I have no idea where this came from--I am generally not at all crafty.  Part of me loves the idea of making my own everything, most of me knows my sister would do it so much better and so I should just go read a book, and all of me is way too busy taking care of little boys/rabid wolf cubs and working two part time jobs to generally find crafting relaxing/fun rather than intensely stressful.  But this project was the exception, and I have high hopes of many more exceptions at some undetermined point in the future.

My foray into the wild world of crafting may have been prompted by seeing some adorable skirts at the farmers' market in Lincoln when we were visiting my parents last summer.  They looked something like this:

And yes, this project included my first ever Pinterest adventure.

So I decided to make Abby a princess/fairy skirt and a crown.

When Dene' and I were little, we had the bestest EVER dress up crown.  It was a silver and purple beaded circlet with a beautiful blue flowing scarf tied on the back.  I don't remember where we got it, or what happened to it (unless Dene' still has it somewhere... Dene'?).  But in pondering a gift for Abby's birthday I immediately knew I wanted to recreate the Princess Crown of Awesomeness.

Now, I am a notorious procrastinator.  But I was so excited about this project that I completed all of my shopping over two weeks in advance of the big day.  It was impressive.  I completed the crown in a timely fashion, but something came up (probably late-third-trimester-fatigue), and then something else came up (probably Michael wanting attention, or some such nonsense), and then something else came up (probably work), and I ended up making the skirt the afternoon of the birthday party.  So I don't have step-by-step pictures, which would have been much more impressive, but here's what I did:

before...

Princess Skirt
fabric (various colors and prints, or all the same; I just picked up a bunch of the discounted squares of cotton print at JoAnn's)
elastic (wide enough to provide a good waistband, but not too wide)
pinking shears

1. Cut fabric into 1"-1.5" strips with pinking shears (length based on the height of the intended wearer--you will need a couple inches for the knot).  Cut off the top and bottom edge as well to prevent fraying.
2. Cut elastic band to the desired length, and sew ends together (I did this by hand, sewing machine would be easier and neater).
3. Tie one end of each strip around the waistband until the entire band has been covered.

Yep, it really was that simple.  The cutting and tying was a bit time consuming (and probably felt even longer because I was rushing).  But seriously, how ridiculously easy is that?

Princess Crown of Awesomeness

wire (medium to thick)
floral tape
green plastic tape
small fabric flowers
ribbon

1. Shape the wire into a circlet of the desired size (depending on the thickness, you may need to wrap the wire around a couple times to make it sturdy enough).
2. Cover the circlet in floral tape.
3. Arrange flowers around circlet and attach with green plastic tape.
4. Cut various lengths of ribbon and tie together on back of crown.

...after!

And, voila!  Princess dress-up set for ... well, I don't remember.  It was less than $10 total of supplies (more for me, because I didn't own my own pinking shears until this project).  It was so much fun to make.  The crown didn't end up as sturdy as I wanted--I think a thicker wire would have worked better.  And there's probably a better way of attaching the flowers.  I was expecting the floral tape to be stickier and was just going to use that to attach each flower, but that didn't work out.  I resorted to some green plastic tape I had on hand, but it wasn't ideal.  Overall I was thrilled with the results, especially considering my aforementioned lack of general craftiness.  Now I just need more little girls in my life who need dress up clothes (although longer strips on a collar that buttoned/snapped/tied might make for a fun cloak/cape for boys... not sure...).

Birthday gifts--a (rather long) reflection

A little over a week ago I mentioned that Alex surprised me with a perfect birthday date, and I promised a more detailed account.  I consider fulfilling that promise within the same month as my birthday to be quite the accomplishment indeed.  So here it is, along with some reflections on some other amazing birthday presents I've received over the years (because when I'm feeling discontent, like, say, about not being able to move forward in the house hunting process, I know I need to step back and reflect on all the things for which I'm thankful!).

I've received some great birthday presents over the years.  Some of the highlights are: my favoritest pair of earrings from my sister several years ago; Tales of the Kingdom from my parents for my 6th birthday (which we recently finished reading to Michael for bedtime stories; unfortunately it's out of print, but well worth the effort if you can find a copy somehow!); The Silmarillion from my aunt Nancy for my 15th birthday; and my uncle Ken making me watch the Star Wars original trilogy and then taking me to see The Phantom Menace for my 14th birthday (no, I hadn't seen the OT before then, and yes, I'm willing to admit that it changed my life); and my parents' wonderful new tradition of sending us date-night money for our birthdays.

Not that Alex's previous birthday gifts left anything to be desired, but this year's deserves special mention.  I thought I was getting new glasses for my birthday (because even though I'd had my current pair for so long, it just seemed like that kind of expense should coincide with a special occasion) and I was looking forward to a date night sometime in the general proximity of my birthday.  

But the Wednesday before my birthday Alex woke me up and told me he had arranged for his Mom to watch Michael while we went to Mass and breakfast afterwards.  I'm pretty sure it was the first time the two of us went to Mass together without Michael since he was born, and a quiet meal alone (whether in or out) is always a treat.  After breakfast at LePeep's--our favorite--we headed over to Barnes & Noble for our annual tradition of picking out birthday/Father's Day books together.  I've been wanting to experiment with some new breads, and much to my delight I found a cookbook filled with bread recipes from around the world: The Best-Ever Book of Bread.  I haven't had a chance to try any yet (baking bread in 100 degree weather isn't all that appealing) but I'll be sure to report back on both successes and failures.  I love this tradition of ours because we nearly always enjoy each other's books as well--Alex's motives in buying me a bread cookbook were hardly (purely) altruistic, and I'm looking forward to reading his gifts as well: Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophey, Spy by Eric Metaxas and Angels (and Demons) by Peter Kreeft.

After taking our time browsing and picking out books, we stopped by DSW to get me a new pair of sandals and Alex some much-needed new dress shoes.  Again, it was such a luxury to not need to entertain a toddler while shopping (and a huge thank you, again, to Cici for making this surprise date possible!).  We had a lovely morning together, made even sweeter by the fact that it was completely unexpected.

Needless to say, Alex has set the bar incredibly high and I look forward to next year ;)

Alex's gifts are so special in part because he knows me so well.  In this way (like many others, including almost never taking the closest spot in a parking lot) he is a lot like my dad.  There are two presents my dad has given me which are without a question at the top of the list of highlights of Presents Past: a Moody Blue's compilation CD set and a tool kit.  I first started playing the Radio Game with my parents largely because I just like knowing the answer to things.  Much to my surprise, I discovered that I actually enjoyed a lot of the music.  And even more, I enjoyed enjoying something that my parents enjoyed so much (I'm sure there's a clearer way of saying that).  I loved listening to the Moody Blues and other groups, knowing that my parents had listened to the same songs in high school and college.  Five(ish) years ago my dad surprised me with my very own Moody Blues CDs for my birthday.

Dad may or may not have been motivated, at least in part, by a desire to take away any incentive for me to steal more of his CDs (a valid concern; I'm hoping my parents have forgotten about that Little River Band CD they used to own but which has been in my possession for the last several years) but that simple gift was (and is) profoundly special to me because it demonstrates how well Dad knows me, and our shared love of the Moody Blues serves as a reminder of all the other (more important) things we have in common.  In fact, our father-daughter dance at my wedding was to their "Voices in the Sky" (which the other guests probably found to be an incredibly strange choice).

The tool kit was such a special gift for somewhat different reasons.  While I do enjoy fixing things upon occasion, thus far I have shown nowhere near the aptitude for that pursuit that I have for identifying songs by artists who were famous before I was born.  I saw the gift of the tool kit shortly before I moved to Denver as a sign of my dad's deeper desire to equip me for the road ahead (and not long after he gave it to me I needed the screwdriver in it to replace my stolen license plates... let me clarify, put new plates on after mine were stolen, not replace stolen plates which were on my vehicle).

Now, of course, Michael gets all the presents (and attention, until he goes to bed and we get to play the Radio Game), but that's okay :)  Dad's gifts are such small tokens of his love for me, but so incredibly precious.  And, as always, they point me to my Heavenly Father's love and his many gifts.  In a similar way, Alex's gift of that relaxed morning together and the joy of his company reminds me to make time to place myself in God's presence and enjoy his company.

As I was reflecting to my friend Nicole the other day, Alex is so good at pointing me to God.  Whenever I try to compliment Alex on what an amazing father and husband he is, his response is always, "It's not me."  I, on the other hand, usually just take the compliment and forget to pass on the credit.  As with so many other things I'm sure Alex will help me work on that :)

I'd love to know--what are some of the best birthday gifts you've ever received?