I failed, I'm stupid, Why do I bother?

If the definition of insanity is doing the same thing, the same way you've always done things, and expecting different results, it's no wonder I feel half past crazy on a good day.

If life is what you make of it, I've been doing it wrong.  And now I know. And when you know better, you do better. 

Last year was hard, seemingly impossible at times, but I made it thru. Thanks in part to so many caring, kind people who have never stopped praying and encouraging me. I can't say how much it meant to me, still does, the kindness of people.  On my worst days when I felt alone and forgotten, a smile or kind word from a stranger was enough of a reminder that I was loved. 

I haven't done everything right. There are a lot of things I've done wrong and I carry guilt and remorse for that.  But there's also a lot I've done right and I'm proud that in the midst of the greatest pain I had known, I've been able to change. 

What you plant grows. What you focus on becomes your giant. In a world of pain, hurt and disappointment, it's easy to get bogged down in the crap but I have changed my focus and I've changed my expectations. You show people how to treat you and that's been hard for me. I don't always do things right but I feel like I'm the first to admit my mistakes. I try to take a lesson from it and move forward but it doesn't always go as easily as one would hope. 

There is a lot I don't know and there's a lot I'm still learning. But this I know to be true. 

The voices of hurt are louder than the voices of hope. If you let them be.  My self talk a lot of the time this past year has been, "I failed, I'm stupid, why do I bother?"  The answer to that is, "I try my best and I don't give up on what's important to me."  

Life is short. If you love someone, show them by your actions and treat them with respect. You don't know when that last conversation will come. 

Everyone is facing something.  If it's big to you then it's important. Don't ever feel guilty for something you are facing if you are doing the best you can to get thru. 

Life is full of people who will try to hurt you. But life is also filled with a lot of people who will love, encourage and support you. You have to decide who you listen to. 

Things don't always go as planned but when things change you have the choice of which direction you will go.  It's not always easy but I've found that if my feet are planted firmly on the solid ground of truth and love, even when the ground falls under my feet, I have many caring hands to hold me up. 

People change. Life happens.  People grow and people evolve. When pain affects your life, after you've given yourself the time to heal, embrace the person you've become. If you've gotten thru the hurt then you're stronger than the people who gave up. 

Life ain't always beautiful but it's a beautiful ride.  I'm really trying every day to make the day matter.  I smile at people I see, I talk to people in line, instead of getting aggrevated at the small stuff, I try to look at who is around me who might need some encouragement. 

Social media paints a nice, flowery picture of our lives. Few people put the crap on display as often as I tend to. But if my life is crap and I post something beautiful, it's because I have a strong hope that the moment of hurt is fleeting and in it's place, beauty will rise. 

I'm not perfect, I screw up and I fail. But I also love bigger, try harder and pray more often than I worry.  Most days. Some days I'm a complete and total hot mess. Just keepin it real. 

Be someone's reason to smile.  Tell someone you love them. Make someone feel special.  If you've screwed up, apologize. If someone has offered forgiveness, forgive them.

 

To you it might not mean much, to the person receiving it, it may mean the world. 

I remember, it's raw, it's real, it's my boy's birth stories...

http://networkedblogs.com/SlzMz

Beauty from Our Boy's Ashes

We had plans to do a thing for the spreading of the boy's ashes.  It didn't work out.  Maybe for the best.

Tucker's birthday is next week and I was desperate to get them to a resting place before their birthdays so I can maybe head towards some closure on this part of them.  The part where they have been sitting in a high chair at my parents for the past several months.  In boxes.

It started making me go kind of crazy.  I wanted them out.  I wanted them free.  Which is silly and ridiculous because they have been in heaven for nearly a year.  But it was important to me.

I picked the boys up, put them in my car and drove them home.  I walked them up the stairs, dropped one of them, I mean, it's me we're talking about.  I get them both settled on the kitchen table and wait for Jason to get home.

He does and I open Tucker's box.  I don't know what I was expecting but it wasn't what I expected.  And it was a kick to the gut.  But I did it.  Then we opened Fletchers's.  There sitting at the kitchen table, Mommy and Daddy and our boys.

I wanted to scream.  I wanted to laugh.  This is ridiculous.  I want 2 curly haired blonde baby boys grabbing at everything I have.  We had bags of their ashes.  We drove to the place we wanted to spread them and they are wrapped up in a blanket and Jason asks me to grab them.  So, with feet frozen to the ground not able to move,  I grab this blanket, that is holding what is left of our boys, I'm holding it and I'm broken.   I thought I'd be stronger.  I thought I'd be able to hold it together.

I was holding my boys, wrapped up in a blanket, close to my chest.  My stomach hurt and I felt like I was going to throw up but for both Jason and I we were ready to spread them.  So we did.  And it hurt.  It was a gut wrenching hurt.  Tears steady falling from a place I was sure had long dried up by now, bent over in pain because we were finally letting go of the last physical parts we had of them.

Tucker's birthday is next week.  Fletchers is 11 days later, Christmas Eve.  I'm trying to find something for us to to for them.  Everything seems weird or strange or wrong.  I'm praying God will fill those questions with the right answers for us. 

What have I learned in this past year?  People grieve differently.  At different times.  What affects one may not affect others.  I've been told it's time to move on, to move past this, we've had enough sadness.  Time to get back to life.

But then the advise givers stop talking.  Possibly because they are met with a blank state from me but I don't know if it's because they 1. realized how stupid that sounded when said out loud or 2. They have absolutely no basis of knowledge to draw from to offer such strong words.  I recognize these grief suckers now usually from the first few words, so mostly I tune them out.

People will find it strange that I acknowledge their birthdays.  The same people who bloviate all over facebook and instagram pics and stories of their birthday girl or boy will find mine strange, creepy, weird, pity party, blah.

Get over it.

We have birth certificates.  Why?  Because they both were born alive and they lived. And we had to have birth certificates in order to get death certificates.  So we have them both - birth certificates and death certificates.  Both issued probably the same day, but hours separating the 2 huge announcements.  Then 11 days later we got to do it all again.

SO dear sirs and madams, here's an open letter you're welcome to read.

I am a mom.  I am a mom to 2 boys.  They have different birthdays, but yes, they were twins.  I'm doing the best I can.  For the most part I am doing pretty well.  But sure as the sun came up this morning, the closer it gets to Dec 10 when my water broke, my body knows.  And it aches. Don't think your body can't tell you things?  Explain that to this lady whose right breast leaks milk every time a baby cries.  Because my body didn't get the memo that our boys are gone.  My body is still in mommy mode and ready to feed her hungry babies.

Can't do that.  Obviously.

Yes, there are days I still cry.  I miss them.  Every single day.  I don't cry for them every single day.  That's gotta be some progress for those keeping score of how I'm living my life. I'm busy getting on with things.  I'm working, I'm getting ready for Christmas, I'm reading more books than I've ever read in my life.  All in an attempt to keep this forward momentum going in the right direction.

I won't ever move on.  That signifies that I would be moving on from or past the boys.  The 2 kids I prayed for.  The 2 boys God gave us.  That'll never happen.  I will carry them in my heart every breath I breathe. They are part of me and Thank God, will forever be.

In an act of "Moving ON" (mean stare, you know who I'm talking to) I went to the store to pick up some Christmas decorations. Thanksgiving and Christmas are my favorite holidays.  Thanksgiving I got through, Christmas I want to enjoy.  So I'm loaded up with all the Christmas crap and the mean lady in front of me turns to me and says, "Oh, you're one of THOSE who goes ALL out for Christmas."

I stared blankly at this stupid, grouchy woman as I have flashbacks of mom and dads Christmas party last year where I was glowing and pregnant, surrounded by our kids, families, my Nana and friends. Then I have flashbacks of my water breaking a few days later, spending most of Dec in the hospital with people bringing Christmas trees and flowers.  The spirit of Christmas was there with us.  Until we left the hospital Christmas Day.  Me with someone eles's blood coursing through my veins, holding 2 memory boxes.

Yes, old mean lady.  I'm going all out for Christmas.  I'm going to decorate and make this a happy place that radiates with God's love, Jesus' birthday and a season of peace, hope and joy.

I'm able to do that as I'm slowly finding that in my life again.  And because I didn't know her story or why she was so hateful, I offered her a very heartfelt "Merry Christmas."

Beauty from ashes.  I'm trying boys.  Your mom is giving it her all.  I'm fighting with everything I have in me to remember your birthdays with pride.  You were so beautiful.  I'm remembering with Thanksgiving.  You were both such an answer to prayer and loved by so many people...

Last year I carried you in my belly.  This year I carry you in my heart.  But I will carry you, always, because you, boys, are the reason I'm here.  The reason I fight so hard to get back to where I was.  The reason I continue to love with no reservations, the reason I get up in the morning to be the best that God has designed for me to be.

God has made beauty from ashes.   Their lives mattered.  To me and so many other people.  And I would have to think that the prayers of so many parents would be for their kids to change lives, to bring people to Christ and to bring people together.  Our boys, our beautiful, perfect, mini Melissa and mini Jason did just that.

Job well done Tucker.  Fletcher, your mom is so proud.  And I will continue to love out loud, grieve out loud and move forward, out loud, because that's what I do.  And you boys, have given me something I never knew I had.  I have the strength, determination and perseverance to make this life the best I can, even missing my 2 special boys.  Even in the midst of rude comments, crappy "advise" and heartache.  You are our boys. Who will forever and always, be in my heart, in my mind and the light shining so, so brightly in my eyes!

Empty seats at the Thanksgiving...

There were empty seats at Thanksgiving.  Some I expected, others a surprise.  Nothing is a surprise to God.

That's been a hard lesson for me this past year.  Nothing is a surprise to God.  I don't know what I'm supposed to be feeling or how I'm supposed to be acting.  If I'm being my authentic self, it's half neurotic and half at peace.  If that sounds confusing, try living it.

I don't know what I expected this Thanksgiving to be, to be honest.  I know that last year I had thoughts of this year being chaos.  5 kids, 2 babies.  A blended family of love, laughter, crazy and fun.  I pictured the boys trying new foods, maybe crawling all over the place and us running after them.  I don't have to tell anyone how different this year was.

Before we moved to KY, like literally, right before, my mom was diagnosed with cancer.  I will never forget getting the call.  My aunt picked me up from my cousins and took me to my grandmothers.  I dont know where my dad was, probably with my mom, maybe making the last minute arrangements it takes to move a family of 4, 12 hours from home.  But I will never forget, I was at Grandma's and I called my Nana's because that's where my mom was.  I knew she had surgery that day, probably why I was at my cousins.  I had this big cordless phone and I was sitting in my Popsey's office on this old couch and I asked Nana how Mom was.  She told me she was going to be ok.  I knew, at 12 years old, that something in her voice didn't sound right.  I asked her what was wrong and I don't remember anything other than, "She has cancer but she's going to be ok."  From my mind, I don't remember much from that point, other than that heavy, cordless phone hitting the ground.  My grandma, told this story til the day she died to anyone who would listen.

I hit my knees in prayer.  I don't know what my conversation with God was but I was on my knees, in earnest prayer for my mom, who I just found out had cancer.  I stayed on my knees, crying and praying, until I stood up and said, "It's going to be ok.  She's healed."

She was healed.  We moved to FL a few days or weeks later.  I can't remember the specifics.  She went to the best dr's down here and they ran the same tests and they said there was no evidence of cancer.  It's possible the dr's in KY were wrong but it's more probable that the simple prayers of a 12 year old girl, crying out for God to heal her mom were heard.

Fast forward 22 years.  The same girl that had cried out for her mom to be healed cried out for God to take care of Tucker.  For him to be with Fletcher.  After my water broke, hope amongst the dr's wasn't there and we were told to prepare for the worst but not to stop praying.  And I didn't.  No one did.  Prayer without ceasing.  We had our miracles, they just needed to stay in their home, my womb, for longer.

Then I had Tucker.  It wasn't the answer to the prayers I'd prayed in the hospital but it was the answer to so many prayers I'd prayed before.  I never wanted much, other than to be a mom.  And here I was, with my beautiful husband, holding our beautiful miracle.  It just didn't end the way I wanted.

Prayers for Fletcher were prayed.  By so many people.  They prayed that infection would not enter my body.  I never had any signs of infection.  The prayers for his water to remain full were answered.  We saw him swimming around, waving to us.  We prayed we would bring home a healthy baby boy.

We didn't.  Where is God in all of that?  That is a question I have wrestled with for the past year.  Does prayer change our circumstances or does prayer change us?  If I prayed my mom to healing, why didn't God give me my boys.  If not Tucker, why did he take Fletcher too?

And the answer is, I don't know.  Through this whole time my question has been, how can this, a mother's journey of grief and broken-ness be a bigger testimony than if I had our miracle babies playing beside me?

That's where faith comes in.  Because I still don't know the answer to that.  I couldn't have prayed more.  I prayed for healing,  I prayed for God's will, I prayed specifically for each of my boys that we would bring them home.  Healthy.  Not these 2 boxes of ashes we have.

I don't know God's plan.  But I feel confident now that I'm in it.  I know, sitting here now, with tears running down my face, that He hasn't left me.  He didn't forsake me.  His ways our not our ways.  I don't like that.  I wanted His ways to be healing for our boys.

My life has changed.  So much I can't even wrap my mind around it.  I have made so many missteps this past year I can't think straight.  There's no book for going through IVF to losing both your boys 11 days apart.  Believe me, I've looked.

I've done the best I can.  Am I grieving?  Yes, absolutely, of course.  I miss them everyday.  They weren't just something I prayed for, I saw our lives with them in it.  I'm missing out on so much.  But i can't change it.  Nothing I can do can bring them back.  Should I stop talking about them?  I don't think so.  They were the answers to so many prayers, even though their lives were short, they've changed me.  They've changed others.  I've gotten countless emails from others that have told me that through following our story, God has been brought back into their homes, their lives. The God they had left behind, they prayed out to again.  One friend shared with me that she lost her mom and couldn't understand that a God could be loving if He took her mom from her.  But in me, because of my faith that God hasn't left me, if I can trust Him through this, she can too.

I didn't want this to be my story.  I'd much rather be writing an article on juggling babies and work and high heels and kids than be writing an article on getting on with life through grief.  But this is what God saw fit for my life.  If I can trust Him with the good things, I have to trust him in the hurt too.

My life is confusing.  It's more confusing now than ever.  I'm trusting in God with everything that I have that He won't leave me.  Today, in the midst of hurt and frustration, I cried out to him, "I don't know what to do..."  I heard, sure as He was sitting beside me, "Be still.  Don't move.  Trust me."

No, boo, I want an answer.  What am I supposed to do?  I'm a list maker, I'm a fixer.  I need some finite answers.  But what I got is that.  To be still.  To not move.  To Trust.

God didn't answer my prayers they way I wanted.  Doesn't mean they weren't answered.  I still struggle with that.  I probably always will.  Just being honest.

Thanksgiving wasn't what I expected.  It's not what I hoped for and it's not what I had planned for my life.  I don't know what God is up to but I know He's up to something.  And even though Satan tries to fill me with guilt, with confusion, with pain, with doubts that I'm grieving too long, too loud, too much...I won't hear it.  Because I'm loudly screaming, "Thank you God for not leaving me.  Thank you God for using me.  Thank you God for working through me."

Would I rather be sitting here playing with my boys, talking to my husband, enjoying my step kids?  Of course.  I don't know why I'm where I am.  But I'm here.  And I know who is holding me steady, who is guiding my steps and who is getting me through.

December will be a month of remembrance, of celebrating and of hope.  I will never again apologize for the way I have handled my grief.  For I know that as much as I love my boys, God loves them more.  And they got to celebrate Thanksgiving with 4 great grands that love them as much as I ever could.

It's not what I wanted, but it's what I've got.  And I'm trusting that God will continue to work in and through me to honor my boys, to further His kingdom and to grow my relationship with Him.  

Thanks but I don't need your permission to grieve

My 2nd article for Still Standing magazine.

"Make sure that the people giving you advice understand where you are coming from.  Everyone is facing something but not all pain is the same.  Don't listen to the noise of those who are telling you you've been sad too long when they have never lost anything, yet still can't seem to find happiness of their own.  Thank you but I don't need your approval or permission to grieve."

http://stillstandingmag.com/2013/11/dont-need-permission-grieve/

Facebook is getting taken to the trash

I've recently taken a look at my friends list on Facebook. Not sure why, boredom maybe. Curiosity. I've been unfriended by some that surprised me, some that didn't. I've deleted the ones who needed to exit stage left and I've blocked the ones I don't care to see.

Social media at its finest.  

Facebook has been a huge part of my journey this past year. Asking for advice on IVF, sharing exciting news, prayers, hard times, grief...we all know the story. 

What surprises me is people that I grew up with who have become so different. I knew some would probably venture their own course, and they did. Others are very bitter towards a God they may have turned from but who I still very much have a relationship with. Friends who lost touch have become very trusted allies and prayers warriors and some people I grew up with are gone. Whether it was my doing or their's, they are off the friend list. 

It's kind of very amazing and by amazing read sad, how people can change. Everyone has secrets, everyone has a time in their life they aren't proud of. No one goes around broadcasting these on fb bc who wants to show the ugly?  In a world full of perfectly angled selfies to make your chin, chest and butt look their smallest, or biggest, whatever,

with the right filter, the status that is bloviating over how great life is when it doesn't take much to read between the lines of being on the edge of a breakdown.  There's people that post too much, not enough, post mean stuff, passive aggressive stuff, enlightened stuff, feel good stuff. There are those who need prayer and trust those they are asking to know their heart and humility in asking that of someone. 

But I also see all these people who know all these people and grew up with these people or just met those people. And the more people I meet the more I see that people aren't comfortable being comfortable with people anymore.  Bc it's hard to hide your bad when all you're showing is your good. Til your friend posts a bad that may be about you or could be about the girl you heard about instead and then paranoia starts in. 

Someone hurt my feelings? I'll show them, delete.  Someone disagreed with my thoughts and my feelings on my page and then deletes me?  Whhhaaaa. Just kidding, see ya. 

Then you see families. You see friends. You know the dramas, you know the lies, you know who talks about who and it's hard to look people in the eye bc of all the crap that people talk and you don't want to be in the middle of any high school drama. 

A handful of people make conscience decisions to put stuff out to hurt other people. I know good parents and I know some bad ones.  I know great kids and I know not so great kids. I know really good people and I know attention seeking life suckers. 

Welcome to Facebook. 

It's a drama easily caught up in.  People complain too much. Oh my gosh, it's November, people are way too flippin thankful.  I can't believe she posted that. Why doesn't he ever post anything? 

It's annoying. But it's also been a lifeline to a lot of very good people who I am thankful to have in my life. I get to see their struggles and pray them thru it, I get to rejoice in their good news, see their babies, their kids sports pictures, new houses, new hobbies. I get to laugh, I cry, sometimes I get angry or sucked into a debate. But it's all because of who I choose and allow into my life. 

Some make me so happy. Others make me want to punch something. The apple doesn't always not only not fall from the same tree, sometimes it's so far off I'd swear there was an orange dropped off instead.  How did that person come from that family?  Bless their hearts that that's who they are stuck with. Good for them for doing better despite the family they had.  Or bless the family for finally getting the rotten fruit smell off their hands of the crazy who has been trying to hold them back for too long. 

Ramblings of a crazy person.  The good and bad of social media. People don't know how to talk like we used to. Conversations get cut short bc you tell a story and they know the ending bc they saw it on fb. Someone else is sitting right beside a friend having a grand ole time having no idea how badly they've been bashed the day before.  

Facebook brings people together. And complicates the crap out it. 

I'm thankful for the friends,

I'm thankful for the family, I'm thankful for the prayers and encouragement. I'm trying to leave the rest behind.  Deleting the obnoxious, the mean, the nosy and the rude. 

It's time to get my life back to a simpler way of living. 

Wish me luck, this Momma's on a mission to take out the trash in an effort to make room for the good stuff that is coming our way!

Kick rocks, Judgement and Joy

You can't please everyone.

But it doesn't stop me from trying.  My parents raised me to be myself and that self is emotional, sensitive and neurotic.  

I'm nothing, if not self aware. 

I started my blog through a friends suggestion, thanks Kristen, as a way to get my crazy thoughts out of my head, into the cyber world where maybe they would float into oblivion.  And for the most part, they did.  Until I met Jason.  And life got more entertaining, more crazy, life started taking twists and turns I didn't expect.  Raising stepkids, remarried, how do we handle the stress of problems and situations we found ourselves in.  I found a new audience.   

Then with infertility and IVF, I turned to it for support.  I never imagined I'd be on that road, so I asked those who had walked it before me for guidance, for advice.  And the support and advice rolled in.  Those who hadn't been down it offered support, encouragement.  So many people offered prayer, hope.  It made that unknown road seem less scary. 

Pregnancy, twins, so many sharing our excitement.  My life has always been an open book, sharing such big news with so many people made the pregnancy even more special.  The people who had prayed us to our miracles stood beside us and continued with their love and support.  

Then December came.  People came out of the woodwork.  During those weeks in the hospital my phone, my email, my Facebook, blew up with prayers and kindness from people I knew and many I didn't.  I will never be able to put into words how much it meant.  The texts and messages, literally at all hours of the night, kept me encouraged. 

Fast forward 10 months.  In February my blog had 13,000 page views.  Now, 8 months later, it has nearly 50,000.  I have made the decision to be very open with my life.  With every part of my struggle, our grief, our loss and our heartache.  I have made some very special friends, reunited with old friends and become stronger because of the words of both.  Someone is reading this open journal of mine.

"You find out who your friends are."

I never put much thought into that saying.  I always kind of assumed it meant in hard times, you find out who your friends are.  I have found the opposite to be true. 

Over the past few weeks our lives have taken a big leap.  I have a job that I am very excited about, that I prayed for and that I will succeed at because it's something I love, I'm passionate about and it's part of who I am.  I got the opportunity to write for a magazine that is a source of hope for a lot of hurting people.  My article, from what I can track, has been read over 7,000 times.  Whether its from 7,000 people or 1 person reading it 7,000 times, my words have been read.  Through the contributors page I was encouraged to create a facebook page.  Since I have created it, I have gotten emails, everyday, from people I have never met, thanking me for being honest.  Before that page was created, I got emails nearly everyday, from people wanting to talk.  Wanting to share.  People I know and people I don't.  They have asked me to keep blogging, to keep posting.  Not just about the hard days, but the good.  Not just about the struggles, but the joy.  Not just about our dreams, but our reality.

Why has this hit such a chord in the hearts of people?  Because there are hurting people everywhere who are facing heartache.  And it can be lonely.  I have turned to the blogs of others for support.  I have turned to people who have overcome obstacles to encourage me.  It's what we as Christians are called to do, help the hurting.  I'm trying to help others the only way I know how.  By being transparent.

That scares a lot of people.  It annoys others.  Why is my story the one being read?  Because I put it out there.

Am I patting myself on the back?  Sometimes it may seem like that.  But oh my gosh, I am so proud of where we have gotten to.  I want to shout thanks for where Jason and I are right now.  Because I know that not too long ago we were in a much different place.  Am I scared I share too much?  Of course.  I will never get tired of talking about our boys, I will never tire of thanking God for our blessings and our friends and family for loving us.  But does it sometimes feel like I'm saying too much?  Sure it does!  Am I worried I'm going to be judged and talked about?  Only by a handful of unhappy people.  But I am so happy with where life is taking us that many times I just want to sit and cry.  The past year has been a lesson of not losing ourself in the grief to finding ourselves in the healing.

To those who have never walked in my shoes but encourage me the best you know how, thank you.  Really, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.  To the ones who have judged me who have never walked in my shoes,  I hope life never shows you how ugly and hard it can be.  And to the ones who have judged me who have walked in my shoes, who have shared with me personal stories of loss and heartache but set out only to cause pain, shame on you.  

There's a difference between walking through grief that was unexpected and trying to dig yourself out of a bad situation you have put yourself in from making bad choices.  I know the difference.

The nice thing about social media is you are able to connect with a lot of people.  The bad thing about social media is you are able to connect with a lot of people.  I have plenty of people who encourage me, share their stories with me, ask me to pray for them, and share their answers to prayer with me so I can rejoice with them.  I have a handful of people who stick around only to judge me or have something to talk about.  

To those in the first group, thank you.

To those in the second, kick rocks.  Or just hang tight, I am sure I'll give you some really good stuff to talk about soon enough!

Mwah!