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Processing

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The Extremes “I finally got my epidural” “I’m leaving the ER. I’m having a miscarriage”  Two texts I received back to back from two close friends.  The shortest rollercoaster of emotions ever.  And never have I been more aware of making sure I was on the correct feed with my responses. I remember the joy and the sorrow of both of the experiences. Life and death. Joy and sorrow. Hopeful and hopeless. Beginnings and endings. And all this…never forgetting that you would have been 2 this week. The Damn Dam Making the drive to Walmart A few last minute items to help us get through the next few days And the dam breaks And I can’t stop it…no matter how much I will it to…. The tears keep coming. I drove to my moms. I just needed a hug. And I voiced the thoughts…. “But what if its a freak thing? I can’t raise three kids by myself.”  “My kids are triggered. Gracee literally said ‘I thought he was indestructible’.” “I know physically he will be okay. I am just worried

A Mother’s Day Ramble

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  Mother’s Day Ramble   Mother’s Day.  What a complex day.  Growing up it was always a sad day, but I didn’t understand why. My mom grieved her own mother. As a kid, I definitely didn’t understand it—and I’m still learning.  Then one year, I made her watch PS I LOVE YOU—and I genuinely didn’t realize, at the time, anything about grief! Mother’s Day was always complex, but I never realized how complex it could be.  Now, as a mother of two children who have buried their first mom, grief hits on Mother’s Day in a new way.  Gracee’s grief is usually triggered around this time of year for two reasons. Her body remembers her first mom, even if her brain doesn’t remember everything because she was so young; and she has a court ordered visit the week before with her first mom’s parents. (If you know, you know).  Grief has absolutely taken over that mom and caused a rippling affect in many lives. At least, I identify it as grief even if she does not. Maybe that is my coping mechanism for all th

A Ramble from a Rumble

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See a Victory “The weapon may be formed But it won't prosper When the darkness falls it won't prevail 'Cause the God I serve knows only how to triumph My God will never fail Oh, My God will never fail I'm gonna see a victory I'm gonna see a victory For the battle belongs to you Lord I'm gonna see a victory I'm gonna see a victory For the battle belongs to you Lord There's power in the mighty name of Jesus Every war he wages He will win I'm not backing down from any giant 'Cause, I know how this story ends” This song.  Whew.  It may be my new anthem.  It’s on my heart and tongue constantly.  Whether the battle be personal (my health—physical and mental) or bigger, I know that I will see a victory.  But— You know what else I know? His ways are not my ways.  And, sometimes that victory may not look how I think it should look. “For my thoughts are not your thoughts,          neither are your ways my ways, declares t

Perspective, Anxiety, & A Ramble

What if I told you the mark of the beast was your cell phone ? Or social media? Would you be as irrationally outraged? Did you know that at one time the barcode was thought to be the mark of the beast? Or that the microchip you’re so worried about is in your hand right now as your reading this—in your phone?  Do you really read all of those terms and conditions that you accept so freely?? If you did, then I’d be willing to bet that a “microchip vaccine” would be the last of your worries.  There’s nothing in phase 3 about a vaccine. We make it to Phase 2 and schools can open.  Sure, there will be changes. But here’s a newsflash: There are always changes! And just for good measure: schools are not a daycare.  Stop believing and sharing everything you see on the internet. Y’all, just stop.  Stop posting every little and big conspiracy theory. Y’all, stop. Seriously.  I’ve always said that I’d like to think I’d stand up if I’d have lived during th

Corona Virus Journals: Week One

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Corona Virus Journals: Week One Sunday, March 15 I told my mom to please stay home. I told my dad to stay away from people. My mom tearfully agreed.  My dad somberly told me of measures he would be taking. My mom choked on her tears as she said, “Please don’t let it be a month before I see y’all or those babies. Please FaceTime me.” I choked on tears as this became real for me.  I am not sure when it happened, but my parents got older. And I am not real sure how to process that. Day 1: Monday, March 16 6 kids. Three 10 year olds. A 6 year old. A 7 year old. A 1 year old. No schedule. Lots of snacks in the house. I will make it. Day 2: Tuesday, March 17 No green was worn. 5 kids. Missing one 10 year old. We are trying our best at establishing a routine.  Getting dressed is a must for us all. We have to do that.  Today, I started marking off the days on the calendar. Today, I was already losing track of the day.  I was abl

To the woman who birthed my children

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To the woman who birthed my children  I didn’t know you while you walked this earth.  I don’t have memories of you or with you. I don’t have a knowledge of how your voice sounded—how you smelled— or how you laughed. I don’t have memories of you to share at all.  But, what I do share with you is a love of your—my—our children.  In fact, the only version I know of you is through the stories of memories from your children. Isn’t that the best way to be remembered?  I know that you prayed for me. While you were fighting for your life, you were praying for me. Maybe not by name, but specifically for the new momma your children would have.  It’s hard for me to fathom the strength you had to do that, when I look into the eyes of the child I did carry. When I look into her eyes, I can’t imagine the resolve you had within yourself that you wouldn’t see Gracee and Titus grow up. Oh, the faith you had to believe He would take care of your babies.   I often wonder, if God ga

A Christmas Night Ramble

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It’s Christmas night.  The magic of Christmas Eve has past. The wrapping paper in the trash. New toys and gadgets are scattered. The kids fast asleep from a busy, fun filled few days. My husband asleep holding our youngest baby.  And me—well I’m awake not because I’m not exhausted, but because I just need a moment.  The glow of the tree still lights the room. And I find that I consistently dread December 26. I’ve always hated December 26 because that meant Christmas was over. And there are 363 days until it’s back (because Christmas Eve is my favorite).  I love Christmas. I always have. And I pray that I always will. Now, that I have kids I love it on a whole other level. My inner child comes out more and I try to make special memories for my family, especially my kids.  “Memories not things.” I remind myself.  There is a magic in the air at Christmas and I can’t deny it. I want to keep it alive for my kids all year round. Kind of how I tell them every year tha