Worth the risk

 Blessings in the germs. 

I hate that my boy has the flu. Hate that he’s uncomfortable, feverish and aching. In the middle of his sickness I am thankful for the bright silver lining. 

     My son is now a teenager. Every day he wakes up a little farther from me. More independent, more worldly, and tearfully- less mine. The flu at 13 is no different than the flu at 2. Everything in me wants to comfort him. Shockingly he also needs me still. 

    I’ll take every hug. If he wants me to sit next to him- that’s exactly where I’ll be. The same way that my busy toddler would get sick and, for a moment, let me hold him..... my man child is sick and will let me hold him. I’d risk flu and a lot worse just to be able to wrap my arms around him and smell his hair. 

     Papa is headed to Pennsylvania, leaving an empty place. Of course I told my boy to grab his pillow and sleep in my bed. The day is coming when he won’t need to be near me when he’s sick. Watching him grow up and apart from me has been the most beautiful pain I’ve ever known. 

    Tonight I lay here listening to Turner  breathing and coughing- so very thankful. Thank You God for a husband who will drive a thousand miles in a day for the job that supports us. Thank You Father for giving me a son who looks grown but will still let me hold him. Thank You Savior for seeing us through 2015 and letting us come through it together as a family.   

      Good night moon..... and all the creatures great and small. I drift off to sleep next to a sick boy, but I have a very full and grateful heart.

Keep on Keeping On

      I went in to to talk with Turner tonight. He was mid Zoom meeting with his football coach and team.  This isn’t what football practice is supposed to look like.
    As the numbers of cases rise in our area, I am a little scared. This prolonged surreal spilt of am I worrying enough/am I worrying too much is wearing all of us down.
     We are choosing to keep Tate home for now. The risk of going back to gymnastics just doesn’t make sense right now.  How long does this virus live in a chalk bucket?  A porous gym floor can’t really be disinfected,  as much as we would like to wish it could.  It has been so hard to tell her no. It doesn’t matter that the gym is opening today, you can’t go. We love you. We know you miss your friends and your coaches, we miss them too.
     Mentally preparing next year’s Varsity players is good, but what are we preparing them for?  Can you see social distancing happening in a dog pile on the football field? Ok boys, hold your breath through each play, no more huddles, spread out.
      I applaud the coaches trying to keep teams who haven’t seen each other in months together. Gyms who hold online conditioning sessions have my heart. It’s amazing for my kids to see their people. To try to keep some of the “normal” in their day.
     For now I will keep praying for the researchers, doctors, nurses and front line. Also praying for the other Mamas who walk the fine line between trying to comfort with “next school year with be so much better” and “I don’t want you to be surprised if there isn’t a football/gymnastics season this year”.
      Washing my hands, trying to be considerate of everyone’s space when we do go out and about. Missing a lot of the things that we all used to take for granted. Until we get to sit on hard bleachers, drive too far for meets, cheer til we lose our voices, sit with the Village, get after game Big Man Squad pics and hug the girls as they leave practice we will just keep on keeping on.

     

Goodbye to the Girls

Ok kind of weird to share about, but I’m weird so here goes 🤷🏻‍♀️

     My breast implants that I got back in 2000 have been recalled. Some personal health issues, the recall, avoiding a higher cancer risk and sparing my lower back helped me make the decision to explant.

       I am an anxious person, so worrying about the surgery is to be expected. What I didn’t expect is to feel like I’m mourning the loss of my breasts. Yes, I know it’s shallow. I chose to get these implants twenty years ago for cosmetic reasons. I was assured I’d always be able to get mammograms and no one ever mentioned them causing a rare cancer.

      I never felt particularly “womanly”.  I was a tomboy with a fairly athletic build and felt like a dude. Call me captain of the itty bitty titty committee. I was picked on, comments about  my figure, or lack there of, were made all the time.  Men, other women, even my grandmothers, all felt fine with letting me know I was not well endowed. Some were meant to hurt me, most weren’t meant maliciously but stung none the less. My flat chest was something I hated, hid and camouflaged. Victoria’s Secret was that I was always wrapped in several inches of wonder foam (I doubt it was really a secret).

      I decided to get “boob job”.  I did my due diligence, researched doctors. I wrote up a long list of questions to be answered. Made sure I could nurse babies if I got implants inserted under the muscle. I made sure my doctor was an accredited member of all the right boards. I researched his malpractice records and the reputation of the surgical center.

       After my surgery I was pleased with the results. I recovered quickly and loved  my new womanly shape. It was intoxicating to fill out a tank top. I felt so confident in a bikini finally.  I was a little shocked that life in general really didn’t change all that much. My internal feeling of happiness didn’t go up, and I really thought it would. I just knew if I could fix this one thing that I had fixated on for so long that everything would be different, except it wasn’t. The only thing that changed was my bra size and getting a little more attention from men that I could care less about. I felt like the 360cc’s of saline had insulated me from hurtful comments.

       Brad and I had been dating for over a year when I had my surgery. He was opposed to it at first, not a boob guy 🤣. He was worried I would change and leave him. I didn’t want to change my appearance for him or for anyone. I wanted to feel happy and confident. I was chasing the idea that a perfect body would make me happy.

      I’m extremely lucky that my surgery was an easy one. I went from a 34AA to a 34D in just a matter of hours. After college and marriage I really didn’t think of my chest as much. Life was busy, we were moving, learning to be married.

    When I got pregnant the only thing I worried about was being able to attempt to nurse. I didn’t have strong feelings one way or another about breast feeding, but I am lazy and didn’t want to be up at night fixing bottles. When we had Turner I am so glad I gave nursing a try. I breast fed both of our babies for 18 months. It was one of the best experiences of my life. Neither Turner or Tate has ever had an ounce of formula.  I think doing what works for you and your family is the most important thing. Nursing just worked for us.  I loved that bond I had with my babies. I loved our time together, quiet nights holding them. I cherished the early morning snuggles that belonged to just the two of us, but that much nursing definitely took a toll on my body. Having implants and adding nursing made me have comical proportions. Loose skin and stretch marks were such a small price to pay for so many happy moments. That connection made me happier than I had ever felt.

      Now 15 years later it’s not the perky breasts of the summer of 2000 I’m mourning. It’s the thought of having a lot of what I held my babies against taken away. My “girls” put in a lot of work. They fed two healthy babies for 3 solid years. They’ve held babies, teased my husband, they’ve been squeezed into party dresses, been pushed back up for the occasional date night, they’ve been cussed for making swimsuit shopping so difficult and been smack dab in the middle of every single hug that I have given for over half my life. It’s scary thinking of being left with nothing.

       I know it’s vain. I know I am not my bra size. I know happiness is not dependent on my figure. My happiness didn’t change when I got them, I suspect the same will be true when I loose them.  This surgery isn’t one I am looking forward to the physical results after. This time going under I’m hoping to have a healthier future. Lessen my chances of cancer and auto immune issues while saving my lower back as a bonus. Even though my head knows it’s silly, my ego is still fretting loudly.

      Having the first surgeon I met with tell me I won’t look like a woman anymore with out replacing the implants was hard. Fearing the scaring, worrying if my husband will still want me. It is all a lot of emotion to sit in. Brad has proven his love for me over and over. We have been through so much together, I doubt this will even make the top ten of our trials, but still I worry.

     I’m still a tomboy, my shape will just match my vibe soon. I will always love working out and I pray to keep my muscular arms as long as I can. I also pray I feel confident rocking dude arms when I don’t have the Jessica Rabbit ta-tas to offset them.

      It’s important how I go through this. I have a very athletic, beautiful daughter watching me. I want her to see me embrace my natural figure. I don’t want her to think her body is lacking in any way, because it’s not. She is so much more confident than I ever was, but I know she notices everything. I want Tate to see me love a body that will soon be a much more realistic example of her physical future. It is so important that I love myself, so I can model self acceptance for her.

        Having my son saved me. When I had a child I truly understood God’s love and sacrifice for me. Having a daughter forced me to love myself in many ways I never had. Tate watches what I eat. I had to get help and learn to cope with my disordered eating. Having Tate forced me to deal with my eating disorders. I couldn’t model those horrible behaviors to her. I had to learn to enjoy cookies, learn moderation. I had to become able to eat out, off plan and not weigh and measure every ounce of food I consumed. I had to make myself eat for enjoyment, not starve for punishment. Having Tate saved my life in the same way having Turner helped to save my soul.

      This is all the rambling of an over thinking mom who is worried about what I’ll see when I wake up from surgery. Can I love my new shape? How hard of an adjustment will it be to go from a 34DDD to a 34A?  Why does it matter? God don’t make junk. He does make paths for me to show me what I need to do. He helps me learn the lessons I need to be ready for the next season.

     I’m sharing this so I feel less alone. I’m sharing for the other women who go through this kind of self doubt and self criticism. I get lost in my worry and have always felt better once I let it out. So if you a little less of me, this is why. The plan is to go in during the first week of May. Prayers and good vibes are so appreciated. I found a great surgeon who specializes in safe removal of the implants and all affected tissues. I’ve prayed about it, I felt safe and comfortable with this surgeon. We’ve talked about it as a family and all agree it’s the right time. My Mom and Dad agree too and are the biggest support. After talking with Mama today I felt a  peace wash over me and knew this was the next right thing.

    Here’s to 2020 and all the small things it brings. Smaller me, smaller worry, less in between me and my family when I hug them, and smaller fears. 💜

I see you Mama

Mama, I see you. Weary from sleepless nights with a colicky baby. I see you hanging on by a thread from arguing with a hard headed toddler for the 4th hour in a row. I see your long stretch of loneliness when you feel trapped by nap time for years on end.

       I see you mama the first time that big kid comes home from school in tears because of a situation you have no control over and you feel helpless. I see you when you want to stop the earth from turning to keep your baby from being in pain.

     I see you feeling lost in your new identity as  “just a mom”.  I am with you  learning to love and accept the body that created the little miracle that is now making us  pull our hair out. I am with you when your 12 year old let’s you know that you are dumb, cringy, and out of touch.

      Just know those moments are passing, they all are. Then there the moments that go by so fast and you just want them to last a little longer. I see your heart grow Mama when that soon to be young man asks for advice. I feel your pride when he includes you. I feel the warm glow you feel when they flash you a smile. I love the big moments too, winning medals, defeating the home town rivals on the football field. Days like today are my all time favorite. A workout or when they share a song they love.

       The good times and moments make it so worth all the tears. It’s here Mama. All the hard days and long nights fade in your memory. Hold these moments. Take pics. Flood your feed, don’t worry about it being annoying. You’ll need these to pop up on your memories, I know I do. Today was a workout, simple as that. Some sweat and smiles with a young man that I’m getting to know as he gets to know himself. A smile, a fist bump and my heart is full. For one hour it was just my baby and me. He was mine again for just a moment.

     I see you Mama. Learning to let go. I’m here with you in the beautiful pain of them growing up too fast. My heart aches with yours as they head towards their future and we worry together about being left in the past.  I see you Mama, smiling with tears in your eyes because they don’t need you like they used to.  Keep as many of these moments tucked away as you can Mama, it goes so fast.

A Man Gave Me a Ring........ but it wasn’t my husband

A man gave me a ring for Valentine’s Day and it wasn’t my husband.

         I bawled like a baby at 6:15 this morning. My son walked into the kitchen, mumbled “Happy Valentine’s Day” hugged me quickly and pulled this beautiful ring out of his pocket. He handed it to me and walked out to go eat his breakfast.

      I have seen him working on this ring for a few months. Saw the metal shavings in the garage. Showed him where some obscure files were when he asked.  I figured it was for his girlfriend.

      This started out its life as a quarter. Worth less than a dollar, certainly no fortune. Time spent with a loving creator filing it down, shaping it and look....... It’s PRICELESS.

       I hugged Turner and told him how much this means to me. Then I went in my room and squalled like a baby, so overcome with gratitude. He’s a boy who growing into a man far faster than I’m comfortable with. He can be moody, withdrawn. The next day he is all smiles and talking to me.

    Neither of us have ever done this before.  I’ve never been the mom of a teenage young man. He’s never been a fifteen in a world that is always sending messages about who he should be. We are walking gently next to each other in this stage. I’m trying to give him freedom while letting him know I am here no matter what. He is trying to show me he’s responsible while still being a child.

        Parenthood is exquisite pain. The sharpest joy I have ever felt. So intense it stops my heart. It’s like walking outside when it’s -15°. It’s beautiful but takes your breath. The pain comes from knowing it’s just passing. Time is passing, relentlessly. I can’t hold on to any one stage no matter how much I want to.

      So far every season is my favorite. It’s the only promise that keeps me sane. Don’t loose your mind because they aren’t sweet little kindergarteners any more, look how much fun you can have with them now! The hugs and kisses are fewer but the conversations are more meaningful. The laughs aren’t from the physical comedy of toddler shenanigans. Now the laughs are from sharp wit and shared inside family jokes.

     Just like Turner worked on this quarter to transform it from mere pocket change into one of my most treasured pieces of jewelry, God is shaping me. My Creator knows the fears and joys of my heart. The fear of my kids growing up and not needing me. The joys of watching them both become self sufficient, good people.

         The rough patches in my path have just been my creator smoothing down my rough edges. He sees the sharp parts and knows how to turn them into treasures.

       Thank you Turner for this. It will forever be my most cherished Valentine. The ring is beautiful. Seeing generosity in your actions, how you have God in your heart, those are the real treasures in my life.