End of the Tunnel

2.28.2011 10:19 PM 11 2009 Melanie 2 comments
Dear Bella,

Oh little girl. What a ride we've been on, you and your daddy and me. We have all cried so many tears together, haven't we? Today, our wonderful doctor said that you are doing just amazingly and we are going to try and quit your medicine. I know right now you like it, you think it's fun to shake the bottle, and you love to play with your syringes. You even give your stuffed toys "meh-essin" sometimes. I wish I could tell you how sad that makes me. Baby girls should never know what those things are. They shouldn't know where medicine is kept, or what a syringe is used for, or how to comfort a toy who has to take medication. It's so cute, and it's still so sad. 

You are such a brave and good little girl. I'm so happy that you don't remember the beginning days of this, and I'm praying with all my heart that we don't have to go back there. So I have you ask you a favor. Baby girl, Mama needs your tiny little body to be super tough right now. I need it to remember that we don't want that mark there anymore and that it needs to keep fighting it away even when the medicine is gone. I don't want any more rush trips to the hospital. I don't want to see your beautiful smile go still on one side. I can't. I don't want them to give you the really bad medicine that hurts your poor tummy and makes you a little crazy. Even more crazy than you normally are - can you believe it?!

Mama's going to be a bit funny these next few days. She's prayed for a really long time that we would be all done your medicine. I want to throw those syringes in the garbage. I can't tell you how badly I want to throw them away. I want to stop looking at your mark and wondering if it's looking better or worse. I want to see your body do what it's supposed to do, and that is to keep you healthy and safe. I'm a little bit scared, did you know that? I hate feeling like I'm gambling with you, but that's what we have to do. The only way to know if you don't need the medicine is to just take you off and see, and I don't like that very much.

Here is what I do like: I like that you are the happiest and smartest and prettiest little girl there is. I like that you and Daddy and me are a family. I like how today in the car out of nowhere you said, "I miss you, Tasha!" It's true- we didn't watch any Backyardigans today. I can see how you'd miss her. I like your "cheesy smile" and the way your giggle sounds. I like all your little words, and your dancing and how much you love shoes and make up and books. You're amazing. You're such a good girl, and we're so close to being done, and when we are all done, your Mama is going to throw you a party and invite all your friends. Six weeks baby girl. Six weeks and then we're done. 

I love you more than you will ever know, sweetheart. I'm so lucky to have you. So lucky.

Mommy.
xoxox

Gratitude Is The Essence of Trust

2.16.2011 10:21 AM 11 2009 Melanie 1 comments
Brennan Manning said that. I've waffled with thinking it's true or not a bunch of times. Surely the base of trust is rooted in something more than just the ability to be thankful. But the more I think about it and run it over in my mind, and have those words stick with me through some hard times, the more I realize how true they are. 

I know that the opposite of love is not hate: it's apathy. The opposite of trust is not independence, as I so often seem to think and act out. The antithesis of trust is fear. I am almost always afraid in one form or another. But how afraid would I be if I simply looked at facts, and was grateful for what I found. It's a very simple truth, that if you just start counting your blessings, all of a sudden you find that you're just not afraid anymore. 

Let's say, for the sake of a point, that I become paralyzed with the fear that Peter will cheat on me. He'll find a younger, prettier, easier woman to spend his time with and he'll leave Bella and I. I can take my mind down this road until I'm a total mess. Once I'm already afraid, Peter's words that he loves me and would never do that are useless to me. I'm terrified that he's lying. Telling me he isn't doesn't soothe me. But lets say I take a moment and very clearly list to myself what I know about Peter, what I can take in with my senses. 
-Peter tells me he loves me all the time. He spontaneously says it at times when I feel unlovable. 
-Peter is a man of integrity. He is a man who has never once broken his word to me in even the smallest thing. 
-Peter is a perfectionist. Peter is someone who tries his best at literally everything he does from his job to installing our new DVD player. Peter is driven by a need to do things correctly.
-Peter is a good father. He's more than that, he's completely in love with Bella. If nothing else existed, if I was the most hideous wife of the planet, Peter would stay just to save Bella from having her parents split up. He'd walk through fire for her to have a good day, let alone a good life. 


All of a sudden, the fear in me is replaced with how lucky I am to have Peter. How blessed Bella and I are. All of a sudden the suspicion in me that Peter doesn't have my best interests at heart is driven away by the obvious fact that he does. Because I know Peter. 


I'm not good at this when it comes to God. Very likely because I don't know him as well as I should. Someone told me once that every time you screw up, every fear and worry you have all boils down to one of two misconceptions about who God is. You either believe he isn't big, or he isn't good. I believe he can't or won't come through for me. Both are pride. One says that I understand the concept of 'good' better than God does, and the other says that God is too small to be able to help, and so therefore I must figure it out myself. Because I'm so much better and keeping my life in control. It's laughable when you boil it down but it takes place on a daily level in some form or another with me, often it's both. God is way up there in Heaven (small) and not concerned with the little goings on of my day to day life (mean). I think God is small and mean. Nice. And here I thought I was such a good Christian. 


I am concerned with every little thing Bella does. Today she said "duck" perfectly clearly. It used to sound like "dut" and I knew what she meant. Today it was perfect and I was so proud. Not only am I concerned with every incredible thing she does, I think everyone else should be. I live in a constant state of, "look at her! Isn't she amazing?! Is that not the most beautiful and intelligent little thing you've ever seen?!" I love how much she needs us. I love being everything to her. It makes me feel amazing. 


Last night, when it was bedtime, we did our routine. Medicine, "Mama, shake it? Shake, shake, shake!" She loves to shake that bottle. Find a clean cup, fill with milk, start warming. "Bunny?" she asks. I find the bunny half under the couch. Clean diaper "Pants! Bella, don't touch," she warns herself while I clean her up. Then it's into her sleepy sack. "Night night toes? Mmm-wah toes?" she asks sweetly. I let her kiss her toes. Then I must do it. Then it's grab the cup I forgot in the kitchen, and settle into the chair in the dark and rock her. Two seconds later she'd emptied her cup. "More cup Mama? More milk?" She points at her mouth to make sure I got the point. I lay her in her crib and promise to come back with milk. She sits quietly. When I get back though, she says, "Mama, no. Cup, bunny, bed." And my heart falls through the floor. She doesn't want me to rock her. She wants to go to sleep. She's tired and wants to stretch out in her bed. And although I spend all my time teaching her how smart she is, how good at doing every little thing, this hurts me. I know that it's a really great thing, developmentally. I've read enough to know that she feels secure enough to fall asleep by herself.  This is progress. This is a step in the right direction, but it hurts me. Because I love her. Because I miss her when she sleeps, even still, and I don't care that it's stupid and makes me one of 'those moms'. I kissed her goodnight on the head, prayed for her, and told her I loved her. "Ove you.." she whispered. This might be the only thing that let me walk out of that room instead of forcing her back to baby-dom. I was crying, but I left. She went straight to sleep and the loneliness here was a little overwhelming. I may have asked Peter to come home early from work. I wanted my baby back. I wanted her to need me, and the funniest part is, when she woke up a few hours later and I was already in bed, I grinned from ear to ear when I heard her little voice say "Mama?" and start to cry. 


I wonder how much of our feelings for our children mirror God's feelings for us. He refers to himself as a father so many times in the bible, you'd think he was trying to make a point. I wonder if he does this? Waits for us to cry and then rejoices to himself that the proper order has been restored. We need our Daddy to save us. I wonder if our posturing at independence hurts him? It must. It must hurt him over and over again as we tell him that regardless of what he says, we're still afraid. That no matter how many times he's shown us his love, we still don't totally get it. I wonder how often the distance between Heaven and Earth frustrates him. I know I hate it. I know there's so much I want to say to him face to face. So much I want to ask. I wonder if he feels the same? I wonder why I don't think of it in these terms more often. It makes sense.

There's a story about a little girl and her father crossing a bridge. The father is worried for his little girl, and tells her to hold very tightly to his hand. She looks at him and says, "No Daddy. You hold my hand"
"What's the difference?" he asks.
"Well, if something happens and I get frightened, I might let go of your hand. But if I ask you to hold my hand, I know that no matter what happens, you'll never let go." 


Oh to have faith like that. To be able to admit to God and to myself that I get afraid, and when I do, I make choices that could endanger myself. Oh to know my father well enough to not have it need to look like such a lofty spiritual goal as trust. It's just fact. If something happens, I know you'd never drop me. And here I thought that God would be all upset if I said that I was going to let go. Here I thought that real faith was being able to hold his hand when all it is is just knowing that he must hold mine in order to make it. It's just a simple understanding of my own flawed and frustrating behavior, and to choose to not place myself in a situation where I'd need to rely on myself. Huh. Maybe he's not waiting for us to say we'd never let go as much as he's waiting for us to say that we just know that he wont. 

Carrie - Your Incoherence Has Nothing On Me

2.14.2011 11:19 PM 11 2009 Melanie 3 comments
Well hello there blogger. I wonder if I have new font options along with my fancy new window here. Lemme see....nope. Same crap, prettier pile. Ah well. 

So it seems as though I have jumped back on the blogging wagon. I re-did Bella's Blog and I like it a lot. It's pretty cute. I'm not going to lie... I don't know why I use that phrase so much "Not gonna lie", it's not like I normally make a habit of it and need to specify, especially here, but I digress. I'm really not sure if I'm going to keep this blog layout. I like it, but after searching through thousands, and not being smart enough to make my own (besides, how much time would that waste?) this is where I ended up. Maybe I'll change it again soon. How simple can I go without it boring me to tears? That CAPS at the top is killing me though. Someone tell me how to fiddle with the HTML and get that CAPS the heck outta here.

This is going to be more than slightly incoherent; it's late and all I'm really thinking about is my new bedding. Peter and I (with some gift money from his family) got it for each other for our anniversary. Six years.  Anyway, I'll do pictures when I get my Balinese mosquito net up, and clean up all my laundry. Nobody wants to see pictures of my unmentionables. 

So here's our topic, after all of that. I am reading The Wheel of Time books. I hate fantasy. Except Lord of the Rings. And Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrel. Oh that was a great book. Anyway, I'm not big into fantasy at all but I love these books! I'm on book six and I only started book one in about September. I'm averaging about a book a month, which for me is pretty lame, but they are nearly a thousand pages each and there has been a lot of stuff in the middle. Moving, Bali, two Thanksgivings, a Christmas, New Years and an anniversary. That should have had me another book ahead at least. I love how long the series is. I don't have to pace myself. I read when I want to and it just seems like there's an endless parade of books waiting to be read. I guess a lot of people who don't like the books quit around book four or five and I just don't get it. They're great. Perfect escapist fiction.....ohhhh bedding. Bath first? Sleepy time tea? It's so pretty in there I can hardly stand it. I can't wait to get in. You see? Who really cares what I'm talking about anyway? 


Wheel of Time. Right. Great books, and I like that I like them. I know, it barely makes sense and by now you're sitting here wondering why you're at the computer at all and wishing you were watching adorable cat videos on YouTube. I like that I like them. I hate that I like Facebook. I hate that I love cereal before bed. But I like that I like these books. I surprised myself, and honestly, that doesn't happen all that much. It's a side of me I didn't really know was there. I'm embracing my inner nerd, as it were and finding that she's kind of cool, in her own way. 


I think I just needed to put something on here that was recent. Carrie, why don't people love book four and five? What's the deal with that? Anyway, maybe I can shave my legs quickly while sitting on the side of the tub. My hair is still wet from my shower this morning. Seems silly to take a full bath, and waste all that water. Plus I may fall asleep in the tub and accidentally drown myself. And on that note....

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