Blog Every Day in May: Day 29

Challenge Day 29:  Was supposed to be.... Five songs or pieces of music that speak to you or bring back memories. Use Grooveshark or YouTube to include them in the post
but, I've never really been all that into music - sure I like it and all, but it doesn't really speak to me - oh and instead of pushing it to try to stick to this prompt - I HAD A BABY TODAY!


So, I figured no one would mind if I went a little off prompt and shared the new deliciousness!

I went in to start cervadil late last night and pitocin this morning - and Noah arrived at 1:05pm! Birth story will be written up and shared later - but until then - enjoy the cute! And these memories are better than any song!

Last baby bump on the way to hospital, gowns, saline locks, and goodnight cuddles - oh my!

Noah James in all his glory! We are both doing well and I will right everything up just as soon as I can stop snuggling this giant cheeks!

Blog Every Day in May: Day 21

Challenge Day 21: A list of links to your favorite posts in your archives


Well, my archives are not all that extensive, but I'm starting to build this little space up and I'm seeing development in my writing and in my confidence in how I express myself - so, while my "favorite" posts are not all that great - it was great to take a little time to look back through things and see my progress!

My very first post ever  on my original blog where I talked about how things were changing and the guilt of being a new momma! Then I whined a little about J's work schedule as we were trying to navigate life after maternity leave, but before I became a stay-at-home momma. Then, there are a few posts about how Owen has been responding to J's call schedule: here in my first post on this new blog kinda setting the stage and here when Owen showed that he's really starting to understand Daddy's job and how/why he doesn't come home. I also compared how Owen's been having some temper tantrums and how while I get frustrated with his responses that he really is responding a lot like his momma - oops! Finally, my last favorite is my post on the quiet book that I made for Owen - it isn't an amazing post or that awesome of a quiet book, but I worked really hard on it and I'm super proud of how it turned out!

I feel like these posts offer up a picture of who I am and the growth I've made over the last few years! What are your favorite posts? Share them - I'd love to get a better view of who you are and where you've been!

Blog Every Day In May: Day 1

I found this Blog Every Day In May Challenge through Karly - and I thought it would be fun to try it out - I don't know if I can pull it off, since I'm currently barely keeping up with once a week, but that's what a challenge in all about!

So, without further ado - Day 1: My life story in 250 words or less...

I was born on October 25, 1986 and became a big sister in '88 to a crazy brother and in '91 to a silly sister and I loved being mini-mommy to them both. I was raised in a very Christian home and accepted the Lord as my Savior early on. I started kindergarten at age four and became a lover of school and learning - graduated high school at 17 as salutatorian of my class after 13 years of Christian schooling. I went to college in state on a scholarship and rebelled just a little - making some choices that led to unnecessary pain, but I never left my faith behind. While I was in school, I worked doing habilitation with kiddos with autism and met/made my best friend (who happened to own the company) when I started to nanny her adopted daughter! I finished college early (just after my 21st birthday) and was eager to finally be a teacher! I taught kindergarten for five years - during which, I got my masters, met and married (between PGY 4/5) the resident J - who is now the fellow J - and became a momma to Owen. Then, Owen and I followed J to the Midwest for his fellowship (I had never lived anywhere other than my home state before) where I now stay-at-home taking care of all my boys - which will include one more (baby Noah) in 4-7 weeks!

Medical Monday

I found a medical bloghop - I am sooo excited to have finally found a way to connect with other med families - whether those in med school, residency, fellowship (like J - the hubby), or in practice where ever and whatever specialties! I am just thrilled to connect with those in all parts of the journey.

A little quick overview of where we are in this whole med. life journey: J is in his first year of a 2 year fellowship in surgery for kiddos here in the Midwest, after a 6 year residency in gen. surgery back in the desert (where we met). I thankfully didn't have to be a part of the med school journey and got to jump in when I met J during his second year of residency. After a little break during his research year, we got together and then were engaged and married in 2010. Back in the desert, I was a Kindergarten teacher in a low income school district. We had our first son in August of 2011 at the beginning of J's chief year and then moved here to start fellowship when Owen was 10 months old (He's now 19 mo. and we are currently 25 weeks pregnant with baby boy #2 - who is due this June and will be named Noah). Adjusting after this transition has been hard, since all my family was back in the desert, but we only have about 16 more months of training before this whole training process is DONE and J will be able to start practicing! This blog is mostly about my life at home with Owen (soon to be starting preschool homeschool), dealing with minimal daddy/hubby time, and making it work (on a budget)! This life can be isolating at times and it's hard when the friends you make just don't quite get it, so I am thrilled to get to know you all!

Dada?

Towards the end of an overnight in-house call, all I seem to hear is 'da dada da...da?' as my one-year old searches the house for his dad. I may not be a single mom or a military wife/mom either - but being married to a pediatric surgery fellow definitely has it's unique challenges, as well.
I looked, I listened, and I read and there are a lot of mommy blogs, a lot of baby blogs, a lot of military wife blogs, and so many other types of blogs - but while I searched for the community where I would fit - I couldn't find it (although, for months, every blog address I thought of was taken, blank or had one post, and abandoned). I couldn't find a community for the families of surgeons or even medical professionals of any type. So, I thought, if I put myself out there and the unique struggles that we face - maybe eventually another young bride - who has been thrust into the world of residencies, interviews, and fellowships with no more medical knowledge than what she got from old episodes of ER and Grey's Anatomy (which J hates that I love) - will find this blog and others like it and we can form a community of our own. So that, when she's not quite sure what she got herself into and she googles surgeon and wife or family - she will get more than scary statistics about divorce and bitter commentary about how disliked surgeons are - she will instead find support and friendship - something to help cut through the loneliness and fear to help her to see and know that this is HARD and there is someone else out there who gets it - someone who has been in her shoes - calling her husband at the hospital at 3am to tell him that she is in labor, packing her home alone with a baby while her husband works 80hr work weeks (on average - some weeks may be better than that, but not many) or trying to take care of your sick baby while sick yourself and your husband is a thousand miles away at a conference and all of his medical knowledge and advice only serve to frighten you more, rather than provide comfort - it's amazing what a cold or flu or fall can turn into in the eyes of a worried surgeon daddy, who has seen the worst.

I wish when I started out this journey there was someone else who had been there who could have helped us along this journey - because it hasn't always been what I thought it would be (which I think is true of most marriages)!

I think (especially as so many blog addresses that I wanted were taken) that there is a hunger for this type of community - yet there is also a fear - that you/I/we may say something wrong and hinder our husband/wife's career (which we are first-hand witnesses to seeing how incredibly hard that they have worked for this). The last thing that any of us wants to do is put our foot in our mouths or harm the reputations of a hospital or a program or especially of our spouses as physicians! For these reasons, while I am doing this to chronicle our lives and to connect with other women/ wives/ mommas/ people from all walks of life - I will be keeping this blog fairly anonymous - so if you know me or us - please don't post any identifying information about us, about programs, or where we are living now or in the past or future!

Welcome friends - welcome family looking to get a closer peak into our lives, welcome the curious who always wondered what it would be like to "marry a doctor" or what a doctor's life is like outside the office/hospital - I think you will be more than a little surprised - welcome women, wives, and mommas of all types - married, single, working, stay-at-home, and any others - I believe that regardless of because of our differences we can all learn from one another. This is my story - it doesn't make yours any more right or wrong - it just makes yours your own and different! I can't wait to get to know you all and for you to get to know us too!

This will be a blog about life - being a wife, a mom, a Christian, caring for our home, being creative, and all of the things that make this life worth living. Stick around and let's get to know each other!

*I felt like starting here didn't give enough of who I am or where I came from - so prior to this post I have imported some of the posts from my previous blog - for more foundation and history!*

the rest

Other roles that define me: sister, daughter, friend.

Each of these roles have shaped me. They have made me who I am today, yet I struggle to define them. To put these parts of myself into words. I can't. They are too real, too deep, too raw with emotion (both good and bad). They combine with so many other memories and experiences and so much life - they are the me that makes me who I have become as a teacher and mother and Christian and anything else that I have become or will become. These experiences parts of my psyche influence all other parts. My past as a friend influences my future as one. My fear, my hesitance, the questions, my love, my strength, my determination, my faith - me, myself, I. This is where the rubber meets the road. This is where...I just don't know, this is where my tongue gets tied. There are all of the best and worst parts of me. This is part I have to rise above and overcome, and the foundation that gave me the strength and determination to do just that and be the best version of myself that I could be.

That sounds bad, and ungrateful, all the things I don't want to be - the things I keep hidden. My family is and was amazing - but there are rivalries and jealousies, questions without answers. No neglect or abuse, no meanness, no real problems. Just me being a baby - me whining and complaining about attention and not getting things I was never brave enough to ask for - me being the sensitive girl who was told over and over to stop crying all the time until I learned to just keep things to myself. I've had many friends over the years and the quality of those friendships has varied, but friendship has always been a struggle for me, from changing schools in the second grade to the kids teasing me and not telling me things because I would tell my mom everything to the pain of moving away from family and towards friends who were never there for me the way family was to friendships that seemed deep and real and strong only to fade with the changes of life. (I *hope* now that I am at a more stable stage of life, I will be able to make some strong and genuine friendships with like-minded women who have the same sorts of priorities and interests). 

 Somehow, I still can't seem to grasp how it is that others form bonds and make friendships so easily. I try and fail to connect with people, to listen, to share just enough, but each little sprout of a friendship somehow withers with time or simply is stunted at some point short of blooming. I questioned this to my mother who replied that women have never seemed to like me for some reason. I rack my brain with each new budding friendship as to what it is that I'm doing wrong, am I trying too hard - not hard enough, sharing too much or too little, what would make this friendship grow. It seems each time a friendship begins to become something more -- some outside force gets in the way out-of-state moves come to mind in multiple instances. I suppose just like other areas of my life, it's time to give my friendships to God. It's time to let him work in me and make me the friend that others will need. It's time to have faith that he is working in others to be the friends that I need and it's time to have faith that He will orchestrate the timing of that lasting friendships and He will provide the opportunities for them to grow and develop to be a healthy, strong relationships - in which I don't have to question what I need to do to make things happen. Things will just be right and be of Him and will honor Him.

I need to remember how phenomenally blessed I am. I have an amazing family who loves me and would do anything and everything for me. A mom who watches my son all day everyday while I work - regardless of the stress, inconvenience, and other difficulties that this causes her. Whether or not our styles align, she loves and cares for my son in a way that no one else does. She does for him something that I can't. She teaches him different lessons. She loves him in a different way and trains him up in a different way. Some times this is hard for me and for her. Sometimes it's difficult for each of us to not see the other as wrong - as challenging the other's parenting choices, because that is what she is. Owen's third parent - her ideas and plans and care have a significant impact on his everyday life and development. There is no one right way. It has been hard navigating the change in our relationship. I've always questioned and done things on my own, tried my own way, not out of rebellion or desire to hurt her or even to say that I know better than her, simply because I can't do it any other way. I have to do and try and be, yet it's hurt my heart knowing that this isn't what she wanted from me - this isn't who she wants me to be. Like I've disappointed her somehow, like I've hurt her when that was the last thing I wanted. It scares me to put this struggle into words - like acknowledging this somehow makes it worse. That I'll upset her by letting her know that I'm upset for having upset her - but this is the cycle we've maintained. Each worried about hurting the other and hurting each other through/because of that worry. I've always been too analytical, too introspective, too sensitive - because of that I try to be strong and brave and independent - I try to act rather than get caught up inside of my self in the never ending cycle of thought and self-doubt. I try to do it on my own, to never let anyone see me sweat. To be easygoing, to not be a whiner, to be the easy kid - but that made her feel like a didn't need her or want her - and then it was the self-fulfilling prophecy. I had to be the strong, independent, easy kid - even when I didn't want to be or didn't know how to be.

I'm sorry that I did this, but I'm also not sorry. I'm sorry that we've both struggled with this more than we needed to. I'm sorry that I didn't always see the love and the support and all the other things my mom was always standing back waiting for me to ask for. I'm sorry that because some mean little girls told me to stop being so sensitive in 2nd grade and told me to stop telling my mom everything - that I withdrew into myself and harmed our relationship for the benefit of relationships that didn't last beyond elementary school. I'm sorry that it took me from the age of 7 to 25 for me to put into words that I don't want our relationship to be this way anymore - that I don't want this strain and pressure to be between us. To always question things. I'm sorry that I'm still not saying this to your face and I'm just putting it out here in the world where you may or may not ever see it. BUT whether or not you do, from today on I'm going to do my part to change things. I'm going to try not to be scared of disappointing you. I'm going to share myself with you. I'm going to be sure of myself whether or not you agree. I'm going to upset you if I have to, and I'm going to give you the chance to love me as I am instead of only showing what I deem worthy of love. I'm sure sometime you will disappoint me and I you - but it will be real and we can try to start from there. I won't be the perfect daughter - but I haven't been for all these years that I've been trying to be either.

This is the rest of me ... the me you don't see ... the me that I keep hidden .... this is where I am - today - this day - this year - this hour - and I want to remember. I want to make a change - I want to know that this was when I stopped living in fear and embraced the beauty of God's creation in me.

the mom

At Disneyland - June 2010 - stamp from previous blog

It's funny, but when you say mom I still think of mine, not myself - I'm not sure when that will change. Maybe when Owen starts to talk and calls me his mama on his own, instead of me just calling myself one, he'll be claiming me as his. I can't quite believe that it's really me. I'm really his mom. I cannot even beginning to articulate just how blessed that I am. I still have days that I have to go to his crib while he's sleeping and touch him to confirm that all of this is real - he's really mine and this isn't some amazing (yet cruel) dream.

I wish I would have been better about writing all of this out at the time to capture the details and emotion that I feel get lost writing this now, but I know if I don't write it now - I'll only lose more of that over time. Here it is:

Getting Owen (known in vitro as "Nacho") here was quite the endeavor and I felt a little like my little baby and his birth experience were being attacked from all sides. I originally wanted a home birth with a midwife (like my mom), but based on how everything went down, I'm glad J vetoed that early on.

Overall my pregnancy went pretty well, complicated only by a mild case of gestational diabetes (diet controlled), but I probably should have switched doctors when I was diagnosed and my doctor told me I was turning my baby into foie gras, but I didn't. Instead just felt guilty that my body was sabotaging my baby and read about all the risks for him both during my pregnancy and his life because I "did" this to him. I spent the rest of my pregnancy on very structured diet and watched my blood sugar levels religiously, felt just a little a lot jealous of the mommies out there with "regular" pregnancies, who didn't have to worry like I did. I'm sure it was hard on J too with his 'Dr.' mind reeling with all the things he knows can go wrong with babies - let's face it he was pretty much a nervous wreck from the day we saw those two pink lines to the day he held Owen and could confirm for himself that all was well, but I digress.

The last few weeks of my pregnancy (in July in the desert) were pretty miserable and my feet and hands started to swell a lot and I had to put them up every night, but I attributed it to the heat and went along my merry little way. I headed to the doctor twice a week for non-stress tests and blood pressure checks - which no one ever commented on one way or another. Due to the GD and O measuring big, my doctor didn't want me to go all the way to or past my due date, so he scheduled me to be induced at 39 weeks and 2 days (conveniently the day he returned from a vacation he failed to mention until I was about 37 weeks pregnant. He checked at my 38 week appt. (Thursday, July 28) and I was dilated 3 cm but he assured me that I wouldn't go in labor while he was gone and that as a first time mom, this would take a while...

J was on call that weekend and it was a pretty busy one with him gone a lot, but we thought we had another week before things got started and possibly another day after that before Nacho/Owen would make his appearance - just in case he had some people ready to cover him over the last month of my pregnancy. Sunday (July 31), I was uncomfortable most of the day and was having some irregular contractions that I just thought were braxton hicks, and they were not nearly as bad as as the every growing feeling that I had to go to the bathroom, yet every time I tried I couldn't go (surprise - that was Owen trying to push his way out). Sunday at 3am, I hoisted myself out of bed for one of my usual mid-night pee breaks and felt that tell-tale gush - Oh no, did I pee myself..or is this it? I called J at work and went to pee - not yet sure of what was beginning. I called my OB's office hoping I was both right and wrong - the panic of not being ready, the readiness to hold my baby in my arms, and all the other conflicting thoughts and feelings that were rushing through my mind. Plus the fear of the embarrassment I would be in for if I called the doctor, my family, and drug everyone out of bed in the middle of the night only to find that my water hadn't broken and it was all a false alarm.

The on-call doctor called me back and I explained what was going on. She told me to head in to the hospital to get checked out. I called up my mom and about half an hour later she picked me up and we headed in to the hospital - telling J to stay at work until we were more sure of things. On the way to the hospital my contractions began to get much closer together and much more intense. I remember telling my mom that if this wasn't the real thing, then I didn't know if I could do it when it really was (thankfully it was). Once I got to the hospital, I walked into triage and swoosh there went the rest of my waters all over the floor - the nurses sprang into action cleaning up, getting me things to change into, and getting me situated in a triage bed. I let them know that I had tested Group B Strep positive and that I would need antibiotics once things got started - the nurse took note and proceeded with all of her checks.

This is where things took a turn. Things changed from what I planned - to reality - funny how "plans" work out for us. This is also where it got scary and stressful and where my memory gets blotchy. The nurse took my blood pressure and exclaimed, "wow, let's try that again." Which she did, and it was still crazy high, she began asking me questions about my blood pressure throughout my pregnancy, which I thought was normal, and calling my doctor's office (who said I had one high reading and the others were all normal). They decided to put me on magnesium and pitocin (in addition to my antibiotics and fluids) to prevent seizures and all sorts of horrible things, and to speed things up and get this baby out faster. By this point, we had called J and he was on his way from his hospital to "mine" and he was scared, because he had a much better idea of what all the numbers they kept telling me meant. My labor had already been progressing quickly, but once I was on the pitocin and the magnesium - things got much worse. Contractions were painful excruciating, and I started to feel sick from it all. I threw up twice before I consented to the Zofran being offered. This was already so far from the laid-back no interventions home birth I had wanted.

Things continued to progress quickly - with the nurse telling me to focus on my baby through the contractions - but that was the last thing I wanted to do. I wanted to focus outside of myself, I found myself staring with intent-laser-beam eyes at the paper towel dispenser across the room, or the frame on the wall, anything but what was going on inside my body. I felt an intense desire to push, but the nurse said I couldn't yet (I think now that she was really stalling for the Dr.) and it was all I could do to hold him in for the last half hour or so. The plan had been for it to be just J and me in the room when the time came, but in the end I kicked out my dad, but I needed my mom in a way that I still can't explain. As I focused on not ripping apart at the seams, I was vaguely aware that I hadn't seen a doctor and that they were all talking back and forth about which resident was supposed to be here and how he was in a c-section. They eventually called another resident in and just as I was about to start my first push the on-call doctor from my OB's office (who I'd met once) came in.

Owen's first picture - again the watermark is from my
 previous blog

The last part is even blurrier than all the rest. He crowned rather quickly, then I remember pushing with all my might and feeling like everyone was mad at me and that I wasn't doing a good enough job. J and my mom were holding my legs and the OB kicked my mom off to the side and had a nurse take over. Each contraction, the OB would tell me to to push to the count of ten and not to stop and she kept telling me not to yell and to push harder. I kept saying in my head, "hey you b*, I'm pushing as hard as I can here...it's not like I'm trying to yell...it's just coming out because I'm pushing so hard!" Finally after what I'm told was 15 minutes,out came Owen's head, and I heard the resident say "nuchal cord...reduced." That was the first indication that I had that anything was any different than normal and maybe they weren't just being mean to me. While I had been in labor the nurse had told me that once he was born they would pass him up to me and then take him over to the table in the room to do the tests/etc. that they needed to do with him, but that wasn't what they did. As soon as he was born and the cord was cut, he was off to that little table. I heard them call an apgar of 6, and a few minutes later an 8, as I birthed the placenta and sewed up some tearing.

The watermark is from my previous blog

Eventually, after what felt like forever, but was really only a few minutes they brought my baby to me. Apparently, (as I was told about a month later by J - yea, everyone just assumed I knew what was going on and never told me) during the last part of my labor, Owen was in distress and they needed to get him out urgently (hmm no one thought it might be important to explain this to me - that it might have helped me...evidently they thought it would just upset me and make things worse...still a little bitter about that). The resident finished stitching me up and we hung out in the room until we were moved to another wing to our recovery room - where we ended up staying for the next three days as they hoped my blood pressure would stabalize and eventually put me on medication to be released. J's first "vacation" in almost a year and he spent it in another hospital - eating hospital food and sleeping on a cot - but all for the best reason. I was miserable for those three days, wishing desperately for them to let me out, and to start our lives together as a family - little did I know how unbelievably fast "our lives" would go - how quickly my maternity leave would end and how soon I'd feel like I was missing out on his life. I hope to never wish our time away again. I hope to savor each moment in time because he will never be that newborn again, sure, he'll have siblings, but it will never be my Owen and me that way again.

 

Our First Family Photo - - again the watermark is from my
previous blog

It saddens me how much I've already forgotten and how many details have been forever lost in the furthest reaches of my memory. I need to write, I need to document, I need to remember this time. These fleeting moments - my squishy newborn boy, with his poor squashed face has grown and changed so fast - to a giant long (95th percentile) little guy who seems less like a baby every day. I want need to remember this time better than I remember the times that have past.

the wife

The wife...his wife...his partner...his best friend. I dreamed for the time that I would be able to say those words - that I would be a wife. I was always in a hurry to grow up and since my grandma and mom had both been married and had babies/were pregnant by the time they were 21 - I was behind, way behind. So, I did something not many people know about - I signed up for eHarmony. Now almost 4 years later, it's a little more common and a little less stigmatized to be on a dating website - but I was ashamed and I was scared that people would look down on me and think I was lame or desperate. In fact, I think I thought those things a little about myself. I had boyfriends and I dated, but I couldn't seem to find the right guy or the right relationship (didn't occur to me that I wasn't the right girl yet) - so I decided to look for someone/something more serious online. I hoped to find someone smart, someone with my values and beliefs, and I wanted to find MY husband - the man God made especially for me and I just wasn't finding him on my own.

I remember praying in 2007: "God, I'm sick of this heartache - and these wrong relationships. Lord, give me my husband now, even if I'm not ready for him yet. Let me meet him now!" And, you know what, He did early in 2008. He let me meet him - and guess what - I wasn't ready. We "met" and talked and got along really well, I knew from his pictures that he wasn't quite my type (I was young and immature and just a little shallow) but he was nice and fun to talk to and everything about him was right - and I told myself that if I was smart I'd be with him, but like I already said I wasn't ready, and I hurt him. I will forever be sorry for that - and I know that was a very clear lesson to me that I want His will, not mine in my life. I told him I wanted to be friends (which he didn't want) and moved on with my life and he with his. He continued on with opportunities he might not have had if we'd been dating and I bumbled along dating the wrong guys, growing up, and getting ready for what God had for me. About a year later, I thought of J and looked him up online and emailed him, only to hear that he didn't want to talk to me - understandable. So, back to bumbling along. I was dating a man who wasn't a Christian and trying to justify that in my head (umm yea, doesn't work) when I prayed and gave my life over to God for him to control - instead of insisting on doing it myself - and my boyfriend broke up with me less than a week later (while I was moving - literally phone call while carrying boxes into my house).

I started trying to think of what I could do to move on and start the next relationship, but separately from my control - God was working. About a month later, I got an email from J. He apologized for not wanting to talk to me before and wanted to catch up. We emailed and exchanged phone numbers and before long we met for dinner in early December. The next day, I made/helped him cut his hair and I went to his work Christmas party where everyone told him I was a keeper. After that, I saw him every day, it was right, it fit, it worked, and I/we were ready! We were talking/joking about marriage in about a week and on January 1st, 2010, he proposed, ring and all. Talk about a whirlwind romance. We I planned our beautiful, out of state wedding fast and we were married on June 12, 2010.

Since then, we've continued to grow and some times have been harder than others (when your husband works 120hrs in one week it's a little rough on the relationship), but I'm still thrilled to call myself his wife and him my husband. I love you, J!

the teacher

 You know how in Kindergarten we all said, "when I grow up, I want to be a..." - well I wasn't too sure and went back and forth between a "baby nurse" and a teacher, but by the end of first grade I was sure - I was born to be a teacher. Some of my earliest memories of getting in trouble at school were for turning around to help the boy behind me with his work and I absolutely adored school.

Many family members tried to talk me out of becoming a teacher because I was "too smart" and the pay was bad, but I never changed my mind. As I grew, I taught Sunday School and babysat and did everything I could to work with children. I also worked while I was in college doing habilitation and respite for children with autism and other developmental disabilities and learned even more about the joy of helping a child to learn and grow. There is magic in seeing the light turn on and a child's world change and I am so blessed to be a part of that.

I went to UofA on a full scholarship and studied Elementary Education, I graduated in 3 1/2 years and was thrilled to join the workforce. I took over from a maternity leave where the teacher had decided not to return (which I definitely understand now...I miss my baby boy!) and off I went. I was thrilled and couldn't believe they were really going to let me do this! My dream became my reality faster than I even thought it would...but reality is never quite like the dream. That year was hard brutal, I was so ill-prepared for the reality of working in a struggling urban school district. I had little-to-no support (didn't know who to ask) and everyone assumed since it was mid-year that I already knew the things that they told all the newbies at the beginning of the year. I received some training, but that year I could barely tread water as the third teacher to a class of 5 year-olds who had learned almost nothing in the first half of the year and could barely sit still!

I'd like to say after that the job got easy, but in a Title 1 (high poverty) urban school district, it never gets easy. Procedures and expectations change faster than you can master and implement them, and I was often told that all the things I learned earning my bachelors (and later my master's) degree were wrong and "didn't apply" to this population. Many things have Practically everything has changed each year that I have been teaching since January of 2008 and I'm sure it will continue to do so each year into the future. Yet, in spite of the difficulties, I'm so glad that this is where God placed me. I have been able to be a light and sense of stability in the lives of many children who don't know God's love or who don't know what it is to have a stable adult in their lives or who don't even have the stability of knowing when their next meal will be. I know that this isn't every student I've had in my classes - many others have 2 loving/stable/Christian parents and many are probably better off financially than I am, but even if it's only for one kiddo - then it's all been worth it.

Last year, I had a challenging group of students (let's be honest - it was crazy and more than once I was kicked/hit/scratched/etc. all while pregnant) and I was at my wit's end almost daily, but with God's help I made it through and I have to believe that I made a positive difference for those kiddos in at least some way (although I was sure at times that it was all my fault and I was a horrible teacher). I learned a lot from that class about pride and doing it all myself. Prior to that I was so sure of myself and my skills and my classroom management and I had stopped giving the glory to God. I had forgotten that everything I know and am and do is thanks to Him.

Thankfully, this year my class is amazing - we had a few hiccups (I was on maternity leave from the first day of school until October) but God is good and He has blessed me with great kiddos - great parents - and a chance to love teaching again (and feel a little less like a failure as a teacher). I'm glad I'm here this year to experience that change. But (yes the teacher started a sentence with "but") with my new role as a mommy, I'm having a harder time with focusing as much time and as much of my identity as it takes to be a "good" teacher. It's hard to turn off mommy and be teacher, and I'm really struggling with the balance and feeling like I'm not "doing" enough in either role. I will just have to have faith that this is where I am supposed to be this year - as we always planned that I would be at home once we had our first baby, but God's plan was different - and I'd rather be confused following God than "know" where I'm going on my own. This will probably (?) be my last year teaching (at least for a while) and I'm not sure yet what God has for me as we move next year - should I try to teach while I'm there, can we afford for me to be a stay-at-home mom(?), or should I be looking at something in between tutoring or daycare/preschool where I could bring Owen with me? All I know is whatever He has for me - I will be successful as long as I acknowledge Him and rely on His guidance to do His will in my work, rather than relying on myself and my own strength weakness. No matter what, a "teacher" will always be part of who I am and my calling - in whatever form that takes.

the Christian

"I am a C-H....I am a C-H....I am a C-H-R-I-S-T-I-A-N."

I was raised in a very Christian home, where I was saved by 2, praying for healing with immediate results, and filled with the Holy Spirit by about 8. We listened to nothing by Country and Christian music and we (mom, dad, myself, younger brother, and younger sister - and generally my maternal grandma) went to church Sunday morning and night and Wednesday nights. I went to Christian school K-12, and I was a GOOD kid. Oft called a goody-goody and left out of parties and outings because I wasn't "cool" or I was going to tell my mom about the things they were doing. 2nd-6th grade my school/our church/and my mom's work were all one place. We spent more time there than we did at home. During that time, my parents also led the single's group so the time between services on Sunday was spent socializing with their group, as were many Saturdays.

Somewhere in there - it kind of turned into work and we got burned out...and we drifted. All of us...as a family. We didn't turn, we didn't rebel, but we lost our spark and our fire and we drifted. I can't pinpoint when it happened or why, but my "very Christian" family became a family who also happened to be Christians. We still went to church every week, but only Sunday morning and we were often late. We bounced from church to church for a period of about five years - never completely settling, never completely plugging in. It was a period of transition in my family - that to be honest I'm not sure is over. We went from praying before every meal to praying on holidays and occasional other meals. This spiritual valley affected my siblings and I differently based on the different points that we each were in our lives (and I won't speak for how they felt or reacted - over even if they felt the shift as I did).

For me - this was somewhere around my junior year of high school and it was hard. I didn't fit or have friends at church, and I began to stray into the wrong friendships and relationships. These led me down a less that righteous path for about 5 years, as I lived like I was "of the world" rather than just in it. I had to come to terms with the idea that being "good" was for my own good and it was for God/my Abba, not just for my parents here. I had to learn that following God was bigger than following the rules (and much bigger than just not getting caught not following them). I learned to make my faith my own - in an adult way.

Now it's my turn to be the mom - and to raise up a new generation of children to love and follow the Lord. I want my children to know Jesus like I do (or even more than I do), I want him to be real and personal to them,  I want them to have hearts after His, I want them to be lights to the world and salt on Earth, I want them to stand for what they know is right even in the face of adversity (because lets be honest - the world today isn't the friendliest place to be a "Bible-thumping, conservative, Jesus Freak." I want them to be all of that and more - I want them to exceed my wildest dreams, wishes, and imagination. I want them to be all that God called them and created them to be without limiting them to only what I can dream - because compared to God - I'm really not all that creative! :) This means that I need to do what I can to raise them with the same values that I was taught - protect them from things that could harm their faith - and make sure that I show them my faith and teach them to love God. Yet I also need to make sure I don't make God - or anything else I want them to love - a burden or an obligation.

Most of all I want my kids to know and show love to God and others...in all they do.

who I am/who am I? ...

...and why should anybody care, if I don't even know myself?

The last five years have been ones of rapid change (started teaching, master's degree, best friend moved away, married, baby) - mostly for the better, but it leaves me wondering "who am I?' - I'm not who I was, but I'm not yet the Christian/woman/wife/mother that I want to be. Hopefully, by doing this I and those who care to come along for the ride will be able to have greater insight into that journey.

 I have spent so many of years of my life being who I thought other people wanted me to be. To be the BEST teacher, girlfriend/wife, sister, daughter, mom, friend, and whatever else. Desperately trying to fit in, meet "expectations," and be good enough be perfect. Any guess how that's working? It's hard not to feel like a failure when your human and your goal is perfection - so it's time to try something a little more realistic. It's hard questioning whether people really know and love me or the image I worked so hard to build of myself. I know that God made me in his image and I have every reason to step out and embrace being who he made me to be - but up until now, I've been a coward. I've been a different person with different people, I've molded my thoughts and actions to mirror those around me rather than living by my (and God's) principles. I've been scared to be too Christian/not Christian enough, too silly/too serious, too private/too open, and so on. Always concerned that I was too much and not enough at the same time. I desperately want Owen to feel self-assured and comfortable being himself - so I better start trying now so that by the time he can remember me, I'll be a new better mommy! I'm going to do a series of posts to introduce myself through roles that most define who I am currently and my take on the world.

After that I hope to post on the ever-changing Owen, on a memories I'd like to share with him, on life and counting my blessings, and who knows what else!  I'm hoping I can do this regularly enough to help give all our far off friends and family (which will be many more come July) a window into our lives and help us to all keep up with each other - since I'm horrible at remembering to call/email regularly.