For a few of my dear friends who know I write this blog, I have been known to say "I've got a blog post brewing.." And this one has indeed been brewing in the most wonderful, uplifting, satisfying way, Georgia.
It started a few months ago when I heard Mark Fernandes speak at an event that work sponsored. He encourages his audience to recognize the values that motivate them and make sure those values are incorporated into their daily, working lives to ensure they are the best employee and human they can be. If they are not, then you might need to keep looking.
However, it was his message of "put your cape back on" that gripped me. He described what I've seen you do, Georgia. He described the child who puts the towel on, or in your case...the flower blanket...tied around your neck and blanket flowing in the wind. You, in that moment, are a super hero capable of anything. You can conquer mountains. Nothing stands in your way. You are a SUPER human.
However, as life happens and life gets hard....we take off our cape.
Fernandes asked us WHY? And encouraged us to put our cape back on. Yes, even as adults...we should: put.our.cape.back.on.
Fast forward to the weekend I spent with girlfriends at the Belong conference with keynote speaker, Jen Hatmaker (I'm including these names so you can Google when you read this and see where these folks are :)). Georgia! This was a weekend FULL of uplifting messages and inspirational, strong women who have lived REAL life and are standing to tell about it.
And that's what I'm learning. Life is HARD, my sweet peach. And no matter the foundation me and your dad provide for you and your brother you will both experience the rough patches and the challenges.
But my darling, there are a few things you must know as you navigate through this life. Through YOUR life. Things I'm just now learning:
1. Be authentic. Be who YOU want to be. Don't be who you think I think you should be or who you think your Dad wants you to be. Be you. God created you to be you. And just like Him, we will love you in all your glory and failures.
2. If you can't figure out how to be authentic. Let me, or someone else you trust, help you figure out what that looks like for you. It is in the times where you feel unguarded, most free, feeling joy at its finest that you are being YOU. You do not feel self-conscious, boxed-in, unheard, etc. Once you recognize those moments, you should try to replicate them with similar people, surroundings, and circumstances. This is when you will find authenticity.
3. When life gets hard, do not look for escape. Dig in. Dig in WITH your family, your friends, your healthy stress relievers, your internal dialogue. Do.Not.Look.For.Escape. Escape looks like drugs, alcohol, excessive ANYTHING including exercise, etc.. Escape will only prolong your growth. God is putting you through this challenge for you to grow. And as your mom and dad, we will always be there for you. You will think that you are grown many times throughout your life, but as you will learn....you are not grown and there is still growing to be done.
As any mother does, I wish for you to know MORE sooner. Sooner than I did. It makes me feel like one hurdle will be less cumbersome or one setback less painful.
However, please know that I know...you have to learn this all on your time.
I love you dearly,
Mom
Tuesday, November 22, 2016
Sunday, June 26, 2016
Shootin' Straight
Georgia,
If this was a highlight reel of our life, I wouldn't be doing you any favors.
And that's why I have to write this one:
A friend once shared with me: "Falling down is part of life. Getting back up is living."
I've never thought of life that way; not before now and I'm 37 years old. I thought life was relatively easy if you were a good person, smart, and capable.
And then I got knocked down.
It was about 5 weeks after your brother Preston was born, I was going to the chiropractor for unbearable sciatic pain. It was keeping me awake at night and killer when I was sitting trying to feed him. It was what I thought was...unbearable.
As each week passed, I noticed I was tripping over my right foot. The kicker was actually falling out of my front door onto the cement and tearing a hole in my favorite pants. I thought...WHAT IS GOING ON?
I started noticing I couldn't flex my right foot. You have to be able to flex your foot to walk properly.
And soon after that, it was - I couldn't move my toes.
As each week passed, I continued to ask questions...and the mobility of my foot dwindled. I finally went to Google: "can't flex right foot" and that's when I learned the term "drop foot."
Long story short, after seeing numerous specialists, it was determined I had drop foot - a paralysis of the nerve that controls the ability of the foot to flex for walking. No idea what caused it. When I finally got to the specialist who would ultimately help me, he said it could take a year or two to recover. He handed me a boot to wear during the day and a boot to wear at night. I.lost.my.mind. in that appointment. I cried the entire appointment; couldn't pull myself together. I couldn't fathom how I was supposed to care for a newborn, keep my job, be fun for my toddler, go up the stairs in my house, drive....my mind was so self-absorbed.
Two things I've learned, already, from this experience: step outside yourself. Ask for help and ask others. There is comfort in other's experiences and dealing with what feels like the 'unbearable'.
I cried and felt sorry for myself for a good week. I wrote down my fears and planned to discuss them with your dad. I even told him about the list, but didn't share it with him just yet.
Before we knew it, we were scheduled for surgery to release pressure off the nerve that was causing the paralysis. We had arranged for my mom to come for the week to help with child care and driving. And again...before we knew it, I was 'in recovery."
And "in recovery" I was. Almost immediately after surgery I was moving toes that hadn't moved in weeks. 2 weeks after surgery, I was flexing my foot the slightest little bit.
This grim prognosis of one to two years had turned into what I was willing to call - miraculous.
And the doc seemed just as impressed, releasing me to drive just 1 month after surgery.
When I put it in writing like this, it seems so insignificant and so trivial. But honey, when it's YOUR LIFE and it's not going as planned, it will feel different and that's when I want you to know: it's how you face it, how you deal with it, how you overcome it - that matters. It's your spirt and your prayer that matters.
Your character is not built in your highlight reel. It's not built during the good times. The good times are easy, my dear. It's built when things don't go as planned or are difficult...challenging. Don't suck at hard. I told your dad on the way to surgery, "I suck when life gets hard" and you know what...I don't. I was just scared at the idea of it being hard. I was scared that my list of fears would become reality.
Guess what? I never had to show your dad those list of fears because every single one was unrealized.
That, my dear, is keeping good company and having a wonderful support system and knowing God is good.
Your dad and I will do everything possible to afford you opportunity in this life, but we do you no good deed if we don't teach you how to do 'hard'. You don't want to suck at hard. You want to rock at hard.
You've got this girl. You can do it.
I love you dearly,
Mom
If this was a highlight reel of our life, I wouldn't be doing you any favors.
And that's why I have to write this one:
A friend once shared with me: "Falling down is part of life. Getting back up is living."
I've never thought of life that way; not before now and I'm 37 years old. I thought life was relatively easy if you were a good person, smart, and capable.
And then I got knocked down.
It was about 5 weeks after your brother Preston was born, I was going to the chiropractor for unbearable sciatic pain. It was keeping me awake at night and killer when I was sitting trying to feed him. It was what I thought was...unbearable.
As each week passed, I noticed I was tripping over my right foot. The kicker was actually falling out of my front door onto the cement and tearing a hole in my favorite pants. I thought...WHAT IS GOING ON?
I started noticing I couldn't flex my right foot. You have to be able to flex your foot to walk properly.
And soon after that, it was - I couldn't move my toes.
As each week passed, I continued to ask questions...and the mobility of my foot dwindled. I finally went to Google: "can't flex right foot" and that's when I learned the term "drop foot."
Long story short, after seeing numerous specialists, it was determined I had drop foot - a paralysis of the nerve that controls the ability of the foot to flex for walking. No idea what caused it. When I finally got to the specialist who would ultimately help me, he said it could take a year or two to recover. He handed me a boot to wear during the day and a boot to wear at night. I.lost.my.mind. in that appointment. I cried the entire appointment; couldn't pull myself together. I couldn't fathom how I was supposed to care for a newborn, keep my job, be fun for my toddler, go up the stairs in my house, drive....my mind was so self-absorbed.
Two things I've learned, already, from this experience: step outside yourself. Ask for help and ask others. There is comfort in other's experiences and dealing with what feels like the 'unbearable'.
I cried and felt sorry for myself for a good week. I wrote down my fears and planned to discuss them with your dad. I even told him about the list, but didn't share it with him just yet.
Before we knew it, we were scheduled for surgery to release pressure off the nerve that was causing the paralysis. We had arranged for my mom to come for the week to help with child care and driving. And again...before we knew it, I was 'in recovery."
And "in recovery" I was. Almost immediately after surgery I was moving toes that hadn't moved in weeks. 2 weeks after surgery, I was flexing my foot the slightest little bit.
This grim prognosis of one to two years had turned into what I was willing to call - miraculous.
And the doc seemed just as impressed, releasing me to drive just 1 month after surgery.
When I put it in writing like this, it seems so insignificant and so trivial. But honey, when it's YOUR LIFE and it's not going as planned, it will feel different and that's when I want you to know: it's how you face it, how you deal with it, how you overcome it - that matters. It's your spirt and your prayer that matters.
Your character is not built in your highlight reel. It's not built during the good times. The good times are easy, my dear. It's built when things don't go as planned or are difficult...challenging. Don't suck at hard. I told your dad on the way to surgery, "I suck when life gets hard" and you know what...I don't. I was just scared at the idea of it being hard. I was scared that my list of fears would become reality.
Guess what? I never had to show your dad those list of fears because every single one was unrealized.
That, my dear, is keeping good company and having a wonderful support system and knowing God is good.
Your dad and I will do everything possible to afford you opportunity in this life, but we do you no good deed if we don't teach you how to do 'hard'. You don't want to suck at hard. You want to rock at hard.
You've got this girl. You can do it.
I love you dearly,
Mom
Thursday, March 10, 2016
I love you SO.BAD.
Like when there's a purse you've had your eye on for months...you want it SO.BAD.
Or when your coworkers bring cake on the second day of your diet..,you want it SO.BAD.
Sweet Georgia - I love you so bad.
I can't get enough of your "please" and "thank you." I could soak in your "I love you too" or "you're the best, Mommy." My heart melts every time you say "I need you" and I grin from ear to ear when we argue on whose being the funny girl. "You are..no you are."
I love being able to stop everything, most everything, for you. I can usually accommodate your request within minutes, at most. We teach you patience and responsibility, but when I have the chance - I go to you and I'm okay with that. You're my girl. Always will be.
And that's when I get choked up.
Pretty soon...we'll have two. Two of you to love. I know my heart is capable, but right now I feel weak thinking of you having to share.
Your voice squeals with excitement when I say we can play castle. Your face lights up when it's bath time. I love when you try and negotiate 3 books instead of 2 at bedtime. And one of my favorite times with you is....rocking.
And here we are..what feels like all of a sudden...the night before we give you a sibling.
So I want to make sure you know this:
My Dear Georgia,
May you always know the importance and weight of what you gave me; you made me a mom first.
May you always feel like you're my favorite girl.
Georgia, always know you enlightened us with how contagious laughter can truly be; and we weren't the only ones who wanted to bottle yours.
May you always know I wish I could say yes to your everything, every time.
My heart always says yes.
You are a caring and smart little girl who is about to be the best big sister we've ever seen.
May you always know you taught us first just how much "thiiiiiis much" really means:
And Mommy and Daddy sure do you love you - THIIIIIIIIIIIS much!
Much more than you'll ever know.
Or when your coworkers bring cake on the second day of your diet..,you want it SO.BAD.
Sweet Georgia - I love you so bad.
I can't get enough of your "please" and "thank you." I could soak in your "I love you too" or "you're the best, Mommy." My heart melts every time you say "I need you" and I grin from ear to ear when we argue on whose being the funny girl. "You are..no you are."
I love being able to stop everything, most everything, for you. I can usually accommodate your request within minutes, at most. We teach you patience and responsibility, but when I have the chance - I go to you and I'm okay with that. You're my girl. Always will be.
And that's when I get choked up.
Pretty soon...we'll have two. Two of you to love. I know my heart is capable, but right now I feel weak thinking of you having to share.
Your voice squeals with excitement when I say we can play castle. Your face lights up when it's bath time. I love when you try and negotiate 3 books instead of 2 at bedtime. And one of my favorite times with you is....rocking.
And here we are..what feels like all of a sudden...the night before we give you a sibling.
So I want to make sure you know this:
My Dear Georgia,
May you always know the importance and weight of what you gave me; you made me a mom first.
May you always feel like you're my favorite girl.
Georgia, always know you enlightened us with how contagious laughter can truly be; and we weren't the only ones who wanted to bottle yours.
May you always know I wish I could say yes to your everything, every time.
My heart always says yes.
You are a caring and smart little girl who is about to be the best big sister we've ever seen.
May you always know you taught us first just how much "thiiiiiis much" really means:
And Mommy and Daddy sure do you love you - THIIIIIIIIIIIS much!
Much more than you'll ever know.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)