Remembering The Whys

The last few months have been more than a bit overwhelming, to the point that I've had multiple doctors make sure that I was on anti-depressants or anxiety medicine just because of what they heard was going on with my kids.  I even had one doctor look at me and shake his head and say, "I honestly have no clue how you do it."  At times like this I recall to mind what a cousin with an autistic son once posted on Facebook, "I didn't know there was a choice."

But, with the help of a lot of Santas' little elves who are making a Christmas happen that seriously would not otherwise happen, I've been reminded again why I care so much about my kids (even on the beyond hard days). It took me six years to have Rose. Six years of tests, treatments, and tears (not including all the shots multiple times a day and all the various medication I had to take to get pregnant and stay pregnant).  I signed up to be a mom.  With all its glorious poopy diapers, vomit encrusted pillows, hugs, laughter and twinkling eyes.

Yesterday was an extremely difficult day for me. I've had insomnia the last several nights and I was dealing with a massive migraine, my ACL joint is out of whack for a week now, my own sensory overload, and I have to wait until the new year kicks off before I can see the chiropractor again about my collar bone being dislocated thanks to maxed out insurance. My kids were literally bouncing off the walls and each other. Then, as the kids were being corralled up to bed full of tears, screams and tantrums, some amazing people came by to make sure we were going to have a Christmas. And they weren't the only ones. Through the last few weeks I've had people take me aside to make sure that we were okay and that the kids would have something to open Christmas Day.  I even ran out of wrapping paper yesterday trying to wrap the two gifts we were able to get the kids ourselves. And by the end of the night we heard a knock on the door. I ran downstairs to find a roll of wrapping paper left by a friend and her family wishing us Happy Wrapping.

I sat down multiple times last night and cried. We are watched over. We are cared for. There are angels all around us. And its good to remember that I have three little angels with halos sometimes a skewed living right upstairs. I wanted them in my life and I went through hell to get them here. So like Bing Crosby in the movie White Christmas I started counting my blessings. Counting all the smiles, hugs, laughter and twinkling eyes that I've been blessed with over the last six and a half years. I wanted these children with all my heart, and I still do. They are my miracles, even when holidays mess with their routines and throw them out of sync.

And I'm grateful for all the wonderful friends, family, angels, and secret Santas in my life that make sure I remember the whys behind my life.

The Power of Remembering

For the last month I have been working on writing down my story of what it took to get my kids for an anthology on enduring miscarriages. My first draft was really really short. Then my husband reminded me of some experiences I had forgot to mention, and then I thought of others. So I got out my journal to review. And left it sitting on top of my piano for three weeks.  I couldn't face it.  The kids were struggling with the change that comes as part of the end of the school year, and I was struggling with health issues.  I even went on a writing retreat and specifically worked on a project other than my personal story.

Finally this morning I shuffled toward the piano like I was heading toward a guillotine and picked up my journal.  This particular journal started as a result of my second miscarriage. Now I am not a regular journal writer. I only write 1-2 times a year usually. In a sad attempt to improve on my journaling efforts I even printed off posts from Facebook for a while and pasted them into my journal.  Pathetic, I know, but at least it was something.

For an hour I read and re-read entries through the 6 years it took before we successfully had Rose. And I cried. Then I looked up scriptures that I had referenced. Then I cried some more. Then I held my kids.

Yeah, I may not always like them (or more accurately some of the choices they make), but I wanted them more than anything and I'm sure glad that I have them. I'm grateful for the times I did journal because it gave me the power to remember during a time when I started to forget.

Enjoy the Special Moments

One of the major things that helps me survive Mommyhood is enjoying those special moments when the kids do something that makes your jaw drop because its so cute, or sweet, or incredible.  This week in preparation for Mother's Day Rose and Cyprus have been working on special presents at school. Cyprus brought me a beautiful little pot of mixed herbs and my daughter had to complete a questionnaire about her Mommy (with some help) and then painted me a watercolor picture of myself.

When she handed them to me so was so worried as to whether or not I would like them. I think they are absolutely adorable -- though, for the record, some of the questions she answered on the questionnaire are things that she likes, not necessarily what mommy likes. In other questions she was highly intuitive. But no matter what I love each of these presents very, very much.

My kids are miracles in my life. For the longest time I didn't even think I would be able to have children. And when we did, it was difficult to get them here. Sometimes it still feels difficult now that they're here, but I'm incredibly grateful that they are a part of my world. It is a blessing I wasn't sure I would ever have and I wouldn't change being a Mommy for anything. And as I tell my daughter every morning when I drop her off at school, "I love you more than infinity."