Haiti

I am lying in bed, the sun has set, and the stars have taken their post for the night. The windows are open, yet I am protected from the outdoors by screens. I feel the cool breeze dance across my face. There is no humidity. My sweet, gentle, loving husband is quietly slumbering, preparing to work hard for our family again tomorrow. My children are tucked into their soft and cozy beds. And then I feel it. I feel him. The little being inside my womb that God has so carefully created and sustained thus far. First it is just a little kick, and then all kinds of different sensations take place. Was that an elbow or forearm? Wow! Maybe he is dancing the Konpa in there! A smile comes across my face as I place my hand on the skin that separates me from my child.
Lying there in pure bliss, my mind quickly drifts to a world not far away, but so different from mine. I can see and smell all that is going on, as if I am there. There is a young woman, lying in her bed. The bed is only a thin mat placed on the floor. The stars blaze bright in the sky above. She too feels a breeze come through, but it is warm and sticky and smells of burning trash. There is humidity and heat so thick that it is suffocating. As the sweat runs down her face, this woman lies there alone, no husband by her side. Her three other children are sleeping restlessly on a mat across the room; their bellies ache from hunger. And then she feels it too. She feels the kick, an attention-grabbing jolt in her womb. Her eyes want to fill with tears, but she has cried them all away in the months leading up to tonight. She places her hand on her stomach as well, and her heart is broken.
We have just passed the 8 month anniversary of the earthquake in Haiti. The 12th of each month comes and I seem to be taken back to the first 12th that mattered. January 12th, 2010. It is often easier to connect with someone who has similar circumstances as we do, and maybe that is why my mind has drifted to the pregnant women on Haiti so often.
You see, time has reached an interesting milestone. We are at a point where the babies who are born will be the last of the pre-earthquake conceived batch. Next month, babies who are born will have been conceived after the earthquake. Perhaps that doesn’t seem like a big deal, but to me it is.
I think of the women who are about the give birth. They are all different, and they all have different life stories. Yet my heart breaks for them all.
I can’t help but think about the woman who had a loving husband, one who cared gently for her and respected her. He was a man who kicked the cultural standard, and treated his wife as the Bible called him to. He worked hard whenever he could to provide for his family. He led them to church each week. Perhaps in early January they conceived a child. Then on the 12th, he was killed. His wife is now about to give birth to their child. My mind races with the emotions she must be feeling. This is the last of what was left of her life before everything crumbled. The little face that will soon gaze at her will be the last tangible thing she has to remember her husband by. With the threat of death during childbirth so real for her, I wonder if she is scared. She might worry about her child dying and God taking this last bit of her dream from her. When she feels that precious child kick, as she lays lonely on her mat, I wonder if she reaches out for her husbands hand for him to feel, forgetting for a split second that he is gone. What memories of him will she quietly whisper to her new baby once it is born? Or will it be too overwhelming for her to even mention his name at first? Then her thoughts must go back to reality. She will now have four children to feed with no way to make the money needed to buy the food. She has no house and is living in a tent. Her heart aches and she in unable to drift to sleep.
I also think about another girl. She had no husband prior to the earthquake, and has no one still. She is young. She lost everything, of the little that she had, when the earth shook. Early on the morning of January 1st she was trying to rest as many in her neighborhood were celebrating the New Year and the Independence. She was curled up in a corner near a tall cement wall. As the men passed by her, she grew tense. She knew all too well the dangers of sleeping on the street. Just as she had dozed off she was awoken by a rough man; he smelled and was dirty. She closed her eyes and began to kick him; she knew what was coming. Not nearly as soon as it had started, it was over with. The man was gone, but he left scars on her that would not heal. While the pain from the man was still so real to her, this girl was now on the side of the street as the buildings started to shake. Dust arose, she saw her closest friend dead beneath cement blocks. Her world was shattered again. And now here she is. The sky is dark and there is no breeze. The mosquitoes and other bugs have free reign at her. Her belly stretching further than she ever thought was possible. That evil man had left more behind than he knew at the time. As she lies on the muddy dirt she thinks of her life. She is numb to most of it. And now, she too feels a faint movement in her belly. Her mind travels quickly back to that night. With every movement of the baby she is reminded of what happened to her. Is she mad? Does she cry? Is she scared? She wishes that there was no movement inside her and that she had died with her friend beneath the cement blocks. She is so worn out, weary, and tried that she quickly drifts asleep.
I can imagine that there are a thousand more stories like these two. Each woman having different emotions as they prepare to give birth to their child. Yet they all have something in common. They have a baby that will soon be born into a world that is much different then the one they were conceived in. Yes, it has been 8 months, but not a lot has changed, much is worse. I am so thankful for the blessing of life that God has given me. Every time I feel my son moving, my heart is quickly filled with joy and excitement, yet at the same time, deep inside my heart, I mourn for the women in Haiti who are feeling the same tiny kick that I am.

Stay-cation

We spent this last week hanging out as a family. Tony took 5 days off work. It was magnificent! I love that man so much, and being able to enjoy him for so many days in a row was a real blessing. We went up to Seattle one day and took the kids to see the Space Needle and Pike's Place Market. We ate dinner at the Crab Pot (as seen on TV). My favorite part was actually waking up before my husband in the mornings and hearing him snore. He has to get up so early for work that it is really hard for him to sleep in. I was overjoyed to see him "life-less" at 9 in the morning.
Little Diva had her 6th birthday. We celebrated by going to see Toy Story 3. That is kind of a creepy movie, but I was crying at the end, so I guess it was good. She had a butterfly cake and had tacos for dinner.
The same day as her birthday was the anniversary of the day that God brought the kids into the US. This year marks 5 years together. It has been a long road, with all kinds of potholes and speed bumps, but every once and awhile we see a lovely sight along the side of the road. We pray for more pretty sights and less pot holes as we go onto to this next year.
Well, it is a Monday. Mondays are my least favorite day of the week. I miss my man terribly when he goes back to work, and today is extra hard since I got him for a whole week. So, the only answer is to curl up on the couch and watch baby shows on TLC.

Spring in the great Northwest

I am loving spring here. It is cool and quiet. They say it has been more rainy here than normal for a spring and we set a record for the longest time without hitting 75 degrees (still waiting on that one). But I love it! I love the dark clouds in the afternoon that beg you to curl up with a book or take a quick nap. I love the gently breezes going through the soaring pine trees out back. I even love the rain.
I am so very thankful that God has placed us here for this time. It has been a welcomed break.
My children, however, are not so fond of this weather. My son spoke the most horrific words the other day. He said, "well, maybe Texas wasn't so bad, at least we could go swimming sometimes!" I politely reminded him that kind of talk was not permitted in our household.
Our dog much prefers drier Idaho to what we have here. He sits at the glass door and whines nonstop for hours wanting to go out and play "just like at Grandpa's house". (Yes, he once told me "just like at Grandpa's house.")
But all the complaints are okay with me. They can whine all they want to because the relaxing sound of the rain pounding down on the roof drowns out most of it!

Thoughts for the day

JUST WAIT

Desperately, helplessly, longingly, I cried.
Quietly, patiently, lovingly God replied.
I pled and I wept for a clue to my fate,
And the Master so gently said, “Child, you must wait!”

“Wait?, you say, wait!”, my indignant reply.
“Lord, I need answers, I need to know why!
Is your hand shortened, Or have you not heard?
By FAITH I have asked and am claiming Your Word.

”My future and all to which I can relate
Hangs in the balance, and you tell me to WAIT?
I’m needing a ‘yes’, a go-ahead sign,
Or even a ‘no’, to which I can resign.

“And Lord, You promised that if we believe
We need but to ask, and we shall receive.
And Lord, I’ve been asking, and this is my cry:
I’m weary of asking! I need a reply!”

Then quietly, softly, I learned of my fate
As my Master replied once again, “You must wait.”
So, I slumped in my chair, defeated and taut
And grumbled to God, “So, I’m waiting…for what?”

He seemed then to kneel and His eyes wept with mine,
And He tenderly said, “I could give you a sign.
I could shake the heavens, and darken the sun.
I could raise the dead, and cause the mountains to run.
All you seek, I could give, and pleased you would be.
You would have what you want – but, you wouldn’t know ME.

“You’d not know the depth of my love for each saint;
You’d not know the power that I give to the faint;
You’d not learn to see through the clouds of despair;
You’d not learn to trust just by knowing I’m there;
You’d not know the joy of resting in me
When darkness and silence were all you could see.

“You’d never experience that fullness of love
As the peace of My Spirit descends like a dove;
You’d know that I give and I save… (for a start),
But you’d not know the depth of the beat of My heart.

“The glow of My comfort late into the night.
The faith that I give when you walk without sight,
The depth that’s beyond getting just what you asked
Of an infinite God, Who makes what you have LAST.

“You’d never know, should your pain quickly flee,
What it means that “My grace is sufficient for thee.’
Yes, your dreams for your loved ones overnight would come true,
But, oh, the loss! If I lost what I’m doing in you!

“So, be silent, my child, and in time you will see
THAT THE GREATEST OF GIFTS IS TO GET TO KNOW ME.
And though oft may My answers seem terribly late,
My wisest of answers is still but to WAIT.”

Author Unknown

Life

Sometimes it is healing to write what is on your mind, but I have found that at those times it may also be hard to write long, flowing comprehensible essays. So today you will get bits and pieces of life. They aren't all related. It might not all make sense. But, I am here and writing, so that is a first step.
Earthquake. Devastation to Haiti, to children, to peoples lives, to those living the daily struggles of Haiti, to people who don't live in Haiti, to those who love Haiti with all their hearts, to those who are forced to sit back and watch helplessly. Webster says that devastation means 1 : to bring to ruin or desolation by violent action 2 : to reduce to chaos, disorder, or helplessness. How could a place already chaotic, disordered and helpless suffer devastation? Well....it did. January 12th it did.
Why did it bother me so much? Why do I care about Haiti so much. Haiti and its people have played a key role in hurt, pain, broken heartedness, fear, daily struggle, depression, and suffering in my life. So it makes absolutely no sense that I would still feel overwhelmingly drawn to this country and her people. Most people who have seriously bad things happen to them tend to avoid the situation that caused the problem. People in plane crashes don't want to fly again. People who nearly drowned don't want to swim. Am I stupid? I go back and forth on this one. In the end, I think that I believe that my desire to go there and to be with those people and mostly the children is that it is something God created within my heart. He placed that desire there. He gave me the chance to live out His dreams for me. All the negative things came into my life because of sin and bad choices on my part. Now I am left with the fallout. A heart that still desires the things that God wanted for me, but a life that can have no part in it because of the stupid things I did. It is a rough place to be. It hurts. A lot. Deep down inside.
Back to the earthquake. I got a phone call from my mom a few minutes after the EQ had happened. She told me to turn on CNN. I was shocked and couldn't move for awhile. I just stared at the TV with tears pouring down my face. Once that initial moment of shock was over, my mind started racing. What about the babies, crowded three to a bed, who couldn't run to get out of the orphanage? What about the ones who did make it, who are scared beyond imagine without anyone to comfort them? What about those people who I love, who are still there? What about the kids I taught and their families?
My next several days were filled with lots of yucky feelings. More than anything I wanted to be there to hold a child or to give support to friends. But instead all I could do was sit in my house and watch the hours and hours of news coverage. I recognized so many of the places they were showing. The store that I did much of my shopping at was leveled.
The days got better and I was able to resume normal daily events. I think that is because I just blocked it out. I didn't accept that I can't go help. I didn't feel good and at peace about that; I just placed it in a deep dark compartment of my heart that is full of "stuff" that I can not yet deal with.
Yes, a lot of what I just wrote about was completely selfish and no I didn't address the true and horrible suffering going on by millions even as I type this, but I needed a few moments to be selfish.
Infertility. Webster again: : not fertile or productive , incapable of or unsuccessful in achieving pregnancy. Another source of deep anguish in my life. The doctors don't really know why. Sometimes I wonder if they even really care why. Maybe because I have PCOS and my hormones don't work they way they should. Maybe because I am just too fat. Maybe because of some other still unknown reason. End point being that it is very hard for me to get pregnant and the 2 times that I have been blessed with conception, they have ended in miscarriages. More pain and hurt. It is rough. Why do I want this so much? Why do I long for the day to feel labor contractions that will be more painful than even my worst headache? Why do I long for the day that my husband will cry tears of joy because he is holding his child? Well, the really short answer is because I love my husband. Having a child is something that he has looked forward to his whole life. Some people dream of going to space my husband pushes on each day so that one day he might have a child. He is his mom's only child. She wants a grandchild too. I want to be the transporter of that dream. I want that goal of his to be realized. But, as of right now, I can't do that for him. Talk about heavy. But I will keep trying as long as God allows for it.
RAD aka reactive attachment disorder. RAD engulfs my life and pesters every moment of my days and nights. RAD is developed when a baby is not properly cared for as an infant and because of that the brain does not develop correctly. The baby learns to trust no one. I have a child with RAD. It plays itself out in many different ways. Some aren't so bad to deal with. Some are annoying. Some are dangerous. Some just hurt me really badly inside my heart. It is what it is. I do the very best that I can to create an environment that will cause the RAD to manifest in less severe and less disruptive ways. It is what it is. I have dreams for my child. I have expectations for my child. But life with RAD is hard. It hurts. As a mother my heart and mind tell me that if I do x, y, and z for a child and that if I love that child then the child will love me back. That the child will be happy to see me. That the child will say "I love you too mommy." But, not with RAD. Nope. I still haven't been able to completely condition my heart and mind to block out all those normals parts of being a mommy.

Dreams. Things I look forward to happening in my life. Things that, when I was younger, I thought my life would involve. Some are here, most are not. I will just keep dreaming, and praying.... a lot.....praying a lot. I can only do what I can. I am a passenger. God drives this boat. I just have to believe that He isn't done yet.

So these are just a few things that occupy my days and my nights. Yes life is hard. No it isn't all bad. It is just hard. I normally write about happy things on here. I will go back to doing that again. I just needed to be "real" for a moment.