Frustrations

I'm not usually one to complain, at least not on a grand scale. But there have been a number of things going on lately that I just need to vent about.

My baby is going to be 6 months old this week. Normally, this is the time when an infant of this age is starting to sit up, roll over, things like that.

Not my kid.

He's crawling, climbing, and teething. He's got one little tooth already, and the next one is on it's way. He's already tried to climb the stairs (didn't get very far!) and tonight while I was cooking dinner, he pulled a small table over, breaking 2 large Yankee candles into the carpet. Needless to say, I freaked out, grabbed him and tossed him to the hubby, and then grabbed my older son and yanked him to safety; we cleaned up the glass after we realized that they were just scared and not hurt at all, but I fell apart, clinging onto my oldest for dear life while bawling like a big baby.

I felt like a failure as a mother. The worst mother in the world. I still sort of feel that way, even though I know it's not true.

The baby is also refusing to sleep. Nighttime is my one respite; he will actually sleep through the night, and has been since he was 9 weeks old. The problem is that he's almost refusing to nap during the day. Today, he took ONE 2 hour nap. That's it. It's killing me! Here's how my days go these days:

Monday, Wednesday and Friday:

~Up by 6 or 6:30 (depending on when the baby wakes up!) to breastfeed the baby.

~Showered and dowstairs by 7:30 to relieve Dad so he can finish getting ready to go to work.

~Make sure the oldest has eated breakfast and shove something down my throat by 8:30, which is when we have to leave to get the oldest to school (it's half and hour away). Once I get him to school, I spend the morning with my Mom at her house, because she lives 5 minutes from school, and it's stupid for me to come all the way home just to go all the way back and forth 4 times a day, 3 times a week. This means I can only get my housework done on Tuesday's and Thursday's, and that's NOT ENOUGH!!!!!

Tuesday's and Thursday's:

~The first two things on the list for the other days are the same, but thank goodness I don't have to go to school! (Although, next year he will be in 5 day preschool; Lord only knows what I'm gonna do then!)

~Get as much housework done as I can, and then hope to heaven that the baby takes naps like he's supposed to. Tueday nights we have small group, so dinner must be quick so we can be there by 6:30. Thursday nights, dinner must also be quick because hubby has a class that he must go to, and therefore I must get the kids bathed and put to bed by myself. This is a feat, let me tell you!

Cna you understand why I'm exhausted by the weekend? Not to mention that my in-laws are coming this particular weekend so hubby and I can attend a family wedding on Saturday. This entails extra housework that I must do, which needs to be done, anyway.

Just writing this is cathartic; Seeing it on the screen helps me realize that I have a lot on my plate. Even more than I thought. No wonder I feel like having a nervous breakdown!

Wow. It's been more than a month since the last time I wrote anything. And what a month it has been.

As much as I've written about how God is a loving, wonderful, caring God, sometimes I can't help but feel hypocritical. I think I'm doing the right things, and then BAM! I find out that I have ignored one of the basic things that God ever asked of me, and I have been doing this for many years.

You see, I've never been baptized. I grew up in the Methodist church. In the Methodist tradition, they baptize infants. I, as an infant, was baptized. The problem, then? I don't believe in infant baptism. Period. I believe that baptism is a choice that one makes after they are saved, as a direct submission to God's will and authority. An infant cannot make this choice, therefore an infant can only be dedicated until he or she makes that decision for him or herself.

When my first son was born almost 4 years ago, my husband and I dedicated him to God. God gave him to us to raise, but only for a time. He belongs to God. So, we dedicated him. The preacher sprinkled water on his head, but that didn't mean anything to me, really. My greatest wish is that my husband and I will raise him in the Lord, and he will make that decision for himself one day. Then, he can be baptized. The preacher that did the service never made an argument for baptism vs. dedication, so I just assumed my way, and life was fine.

My youngest son was born 5 months ago. When I went to our current pastor to talk about a dedication service, I was told, "the Methodist Church does not dedicate. We baptize." Understand that this is the church and these are the people that I have known all my life. I'd gone to that church for 30 years, and the only reason that I didn't go for 2 was because I lived in Richmond. This was NEVER brought to me in such a fashion. I didn't really know how to take it, so I did some research. Fact is, he's right. They don't dedicate. This was not OK in my or my husband's eyes. We resigned from that church at the end of June. I believe that this was one of the most difficult decisions that I've ever made in my life.

We looked around this summer for a new church. It was very important that we find one that was preaching the TRUE Word of God, not watered down, politically correct nonsense. God is and has never been politically correct. After trying a few, we found one that was relevant to our lives and the pastor is preaching the truth. We signed up for a membership class and found out a lot more about the church itself, and decided that this was where God was leading us to be.

There is only one thing standing in my way. I cannot be a full member until I've been baptized. My husband was baptized a few years ago, but I again, never saw the need. After talking about it with the pastor, I decided that I should do it.

Why, then, do I feel hypocritical? Because something that was so important for my children, I didn't feel was that important for me. "Do as I say, not as I do" kind of mentality. Now, however, I feel that it is of the utmost importance, and I am to be baptized Tuesday night. How can I be a good example to my children of submission to God if I don't submit? It cannot happen.

I have mixed feeling about it, though. For one, I am ashamed of myself. I've told so many people about the fact that I am a Christian, but I haven't done one of the most important things that God asks of me. What took me so long, I wonder? Was it because I was misled in my beliefs, or was I just stubborn? I really don't know the answer to that question. It was probably a bit of both, if I were to be completely honest.

Now, however, I feel that God is commanding that I do it, even though I don't feel worthy. I wonder how it will feel? Will I have a "religious experience", or will I just get wet? I hope the former. I look forward to, and pray that God will be there. I know He will be.

The NEXT pregnancy story

So I've told you all about the accident that sent us to the hospital while I was 16 weeks pregnant with my first son. Now let me tell you the story of our second son.

After I passed the 16 week mark with this pregnancy, I heaved a huge sigh of relief. Not only had I passed that mark with nothing happening, but we even went to that Bethel Baptist church the very week that I was 16 weeks pregnant. (They were having a "Trunk or Treat" night for Halloween that we took our oldest to.) According to my plans, everything would be fine from here on out.

Boy, was I wrong!

The Saturday before my mother-in-law's birthday, we were at home doing normal Saturday things; Hubby was going to get a desk to set up in our living room for our computer that we needed to move out of the new baby's room, and I was trying to get some cleaning done but not really accomplishing much. I was in pain, but couldn't pinpoint what or why.

When I'm not pregnant, I deal with a little thing called IBS, or Irritable Bowel Syndrome. I will not say "suffer" (although it does feel that way sometimes!) because I know that there are people out there that have it a lot worse than me, and I would never knowingly make light of something that serious. I thought, when I first started feeling bad, that this was just an IBS attack, and it would eventually pass. I took some medication for gas that was safe to take during pregnancy and laid down on the couch. I asked Hubby to get the boy a sandwich so that I didn't have to get up, and he went on his way to get the desk.

When he got home, the pain was worse. I just couldn't get comfortable to save my life! Since Hubby was trying to put together the desk and the boy was trying to "help" him, Hubby got frustrated. That was my cue to take the boy upstairs for a nap. I told Hubby that I was going to lay down too; maybe trying to lie in the bed would be more comfortable. I was wrong!

About 2 that afternoon, I finally broke down and called my OB/GYN and spoke with the nurse on call. After describing my symptoms, (upper stomach pain and just general not feeling well) she suggested that I go to the ER and get checked out. This, I thought, was major overkill. I knew it wasn't the baby; the pain was WAY too high for that, so I waited a little longer. When I couldn't deal with the pain anymore, we packed up the boy, called my mother to meet us there and were on our way. The whole way there I kept thinking, "just tell him to turn around, you're being a hypochondriac!", but with every bump in the road, the searing pain would hit me afresh and I kept my mouth shut.

Thank God that I did!

When I got to the hospital, the first thing they wanted to do was send me to Labor & Delivery. I had to argue with the triage nurse for a bit just to get seen in the ER. I knew I wasn't in labor, and I knew that the baby was in no danger. IN retrospect, I may have been seen by a Dr. sooner if I HAD gone to L&D, but I didn't think about that then.

When I got into a cubicle, they came and drew blood, and then we waited. An hour later, I saw the first of several doctors. This one told me that the blood work came back with an elevated white blood cell count, which usually means infection of some kind. The first thing that crossed my mind was my appendix, but since the pain was across my upper abdomen and not in the right lower quadrant, I waited. She gave me pain medication and left. Another hour passed, and when the pain meds started to wear off, the pain had radiated to where it should be for appendicitis. I was so disgusted! The next doctor came in and asked me some questions; I had just had my gall bladder out that February, and I told him the name of the Dr. that did it. He decided to call that particular Dr., and when HE showed up a half an hour later in his street clothes, Hubby got nervous. He told me later that he realized that it was serious if the surgeon showed up after hours. (Hubby works in a hospital)

Speaking to the surgeon, we really had no options but surgery. I couldn't have an MRI because I was pregnant, and we could have done an ultrasound, but 95% of the time they come back as false negatives, and it would take 4 hours for them to do the test as they were backed up that night. He said he'd rather get in there and be wrong than have my rupture while waiting and possibly lose the baby or lose both of us. I told him to cut away!

All in all, pregnant and having an appendectomy, I was in the hospital for less than 24 hours, including ER time. They were able to do it laprascopically, and I have a beautiful picture of my uterus at 18 weeks gestation! They had to cut me in odd places to work around the pregnancy, but I'm still here and my son was born 20 weeks later, big beautiful and healthy. At my post-op appointment with the surgeon, he was comfortable enough at that point to tell me that he was surprised at how bad my appendix had gotten. It was about half an hour away from rupturing.

Thanks be to God that I didn't listen to myself when I thought I was being a baby!

The next chapter

So, now I've told you about the horrible accident that we were in. That was May of 2004, and I was 16 weeks pregnant with my first son. God miraculously spared us from severe harm; we all survived, and God continued to bless us. Let me tell you about the phone call that we received just two days after the accident.

On Monday, I came home from the hospital. Now, as anyone who has actually been IN the hospital can attest, it's not really a place to get rest, especially a head trauma pregnant woman. They keep waking you up to make sure that you can, and to check the baby and make sure he's OK, too. Like I said, no rest! So when we got home, I could actually sleep and rest.

After resting for a bit, I called Bethel Baptist church. I wanted to let them know we were OK, and thank them for everything that they did. Let me rewind a tad, here. After the men that got to us first pulled us out of the car, people rushed to "duty". Our car landed on it's top in the road right between the two driveways of the church, so there were people directing traffic in and out of the parking lot so that the rescue vehicles could get to us and so that traffic kept going.

Of the many people that helped us, three beautiful souls come to my mind. I don't know their names, but one man introduced himself as a nurse (we found out later that he was actually a Corpsman in the Navy), one younger man introduced himself as an EMT, and the blonde lady was just there, shaking as hard as she could, using her water bottle, pouring fresh water over my mangled hand to wash it as best she could. I'll never forget how she shook!

Small tangent here, but let me just say how marvelous our God is! This was no accident, folks! These people were put there specifically for my husband and me, no question in my mind! Not just one medical professional, but two! What's even more miraculous is what we were told by the EMT. He usually went to church with his dad somewhere else, but just felt like coming there with his mom that day. Praise God that he was there!

Back to the phone call. When I called the church, the receptionist that answered was ecstatic that I'd called. Apparently, she had been deluged with calls about us wanting to know if we were OK. She asked if there was anything that they could do for us. I told her that if they knew of anyone selling a car, we were in the market for one, as we had just totalled ours. Actually, because of financial problems at the time, the car we wrecked was not ours, it belonged to my father. We were out a car now, and this was a problem.

On Tuesday, our phone rang. Hubby answered it, and by his nervous laugh, I knew something was up. When he hung up the phone, he rushed over to me, put his head in my lap and said, "they want to give us a car!" There was a young couple a little older than us that had just had a second child and needed a new vehicle. They had already bought one, but hadn't done anything with the old one yet. Yes, folks, I said "give". Not "sell", "give". At that point, though, I really didn't believe it. Not at all.

On Sunday, we went to my parents house. Hubby had arranged to have them come there to the farm because we had no place to park a car with no tags where we live. When they drove up in that car, I think I was still a little in shock. Why would someone do this for total strangers? But here it was. A 1996 Mercury Sable. Free. Ours.

Not only did they give us the car, but they knew it wouldn't pass inspection by the end of that month because of the tires, so they put $200 cash in the glove compartment for new tires. Funny thing was, the car that was wrecked was a 1996 Ford Taurus. Same car, same tires. We had just put new tires on the Ford, and they weren't damaged; remember, we landed upside down! So we were able to use that $200 to pay the "gift tax" to get the car titled and registered.

Thanks be to the God that gives! I'll never forget this, and will tell this story for the rest of my life. My family and I are known as the "ones that lived" there at Bethel. We've been back a few times over the past 4 years, and as big as that church is, they remember us. Amazing.

Tomorrow, I'll try to post the story about my emergency surgery while I was pregnant with my second son! God is all over that one, too!

TJ

Old Friends and Old Stories

I ran into an old friend today, and she reminded me of something I wanted to write about here on my blog. I'm glad I saw her! Actually, with it being so blazing hot today, we left the playground earlier than I think we would have and some of us continued playgroup at Chick-fil-A. I ran into so many people that I know, or maybe I'm more comfortable talking to strangers, but my friend seemed to think I was strange!



I have two beautiful boys that I'm very proud of most of the time. One is almost 4, and the other is just 4 months old today. Both pregnancies were interesting, to say the least.



When I was 16 weeks along with the first, hubby and I were on our way to church one May Sunday morning. The sun was shining, it was a gorgeous day, so we had the windows open, and we had not a care in the world; but then, we remembered. The bridge we had to go over to get to church was closed for repair that weekend! We had forgotten, so we had to detour through a small, narrow, winding road to the other bridge. No problem, or so we thought.



Hubby was driving, so I used my cell to call the church. We were going to be late now, and hubby was supposed to teach Sunday school for the youth that morning. It just so happened that my dad answered the phone, as he was the closest one to the phone at the time. No problem, he said, we'll see you when you get here.



If you know the Chesapeake - Virginia Beach area at all, I'll bet you've heard of Elbow road. That's the road we were on. Hubby had never traveled that particular road before, and as we went around a corner right in front of Bethel Baptist church, he caught the gravel on the non-existent shoulder just the tiniest bit, and that's all she wrote, folks. We ended up going down into the ditch (which was about the same size as our 1996 Ford Taurus!), cleaning the ditch out, hitting a culvert and flipping a couple of times, landing on our top and spinning around until we stopped. When we finally stopped, we were pointing the same direction we were originally travelling, just upside down. We never crossed the middle line, and we landed directly between the church's two driveways.



The very first thing that went through my mind I absolutely believe was from God. He spoke to my spirit and said very clearly, "The baby is fine. get out of the car now." I was hanging upside down in my seat belt, and my right hand was injured. Hubby couldn't get his door open, so he put his seat back to get the back door open. I asked him to help me get out of the seat belt, and by the time he got me out of that, people from the church that saw it happen had pried his door open to get us out.



I was able to walk a safe distance away where they sat me down until the rescue vehicles came. I lost sight of my husband, but knew that he was OK. People were crowding around me more than anything, but I couldn't figure out why. I was yelling out the phone number to the church that we attended to get someone to call there and get my parents to come. (I guess someone did, because they were there when I was being put into the ambulance.)



I don't think I ever lost consciousness, but I had a head injury, and a badly mangled right hand. My hand had gotten caught between the asphalt and the roof of my car, because when we started going down, I held onto the roof ( the car we had didn't have the handles at the top of the windows). That, combined with the fact that I was pregnant was enough for them to take me to the trauma center at Norfolk General Hospital instead of the smaller one that was closer, Chesapeake General. They took my husband to Chesapeake, and I wanted to go with him, but they wouldn't take me. My mother rode in the ambulance with me, and my father stayed with the car until it was towed back to the farm, and then came up to Norfolk. My sister-in-law went to Chesapeake with my husband, who was treated and released rather quickly, thank God. All he had was a few scratches on his face and arm.



When I got to the hospital, I was very vocal (read: "yelling") about the fact that I was pregnant. The EMT had forgotten to tell them that over the radio on our way there. They immediately started working; cutting my clothes off, doing an ultrasound, x-rays, the whole nine yards. They sent me for a CT scan of the head, and then we waited. The US showed that the baby had a heartbeat, and wasn't hurt a bit, praise God! The first x-rays of my hand showed no broken bones, but the Dr. that was treating me didn't believe it. He just knew that my fingers had to be at least dislocated or something, as badly as it looked. He then sent me for more x-rays of my hand. At the same time, I kept complaining about my left thumb; it hurt, and it was swelling and turning all different shades of purple. He said it was just jammed, and it would be fine. HA! (More about that in a minute)

All the tests came back normal. Oh, I had a concussion, but my hand was not broken, it just looked like hamburger. Each finger was skinned on the sides from the knuckle to the tip. I found out later that my tailbone was broken, and my left thumb WAS broken. So much for that Dr. actually listening to his patient.

They kept me in the hospital in the Labor & Delivery unit overnight so they could monitor the baby, and released me the next day, which was Monday. We came home and rested for a while, and then I made a phone call to Bethel Baptist Church. I wanted to let them know that we were OK, and thank them for all they did for us in the aftermath. As I write this, I'm tearing up, because what came next was just about the biggest blessing that we have ever received.

Come back, friends, and I'll tell you more!

To be Continued...

Our weekend and more revelations

I have a very interesting family. Myself, I've lived here in the Hampton Roads area my whole life (except for the 2 years after we got married that we lived in Richmond) and have never really like the beach. You know, usually people that live in, say, Iowa or Kansas that never get to go to the beach, they LOVE it. The sand, the surf, everything. Me, not so much.

My husband and his family have always loved the beach. His parents are from New Mexico, so it's not a big surprise for me. Usually, I'll go to the beach maybe once a summer, and that's it for me. I remember when we were dating, he wanted to go to the beach SOOOOO bad, and I finally went with him. I'm not as enthusiastic about it, but I went just the same.

Now, if you've seen my picture, you may or may not be able to tell that I am quite fair skinned, and a larger than average woman. So getting sunscreen on every part of my arms and back is not the easiest task in the world. EVERY TIME I go to the beach, I fry. EVERY TIME. Expecially when I'm more concerned with getting sunscreen on my 3 year old and my hubby's head. They are fine, of course. But me? Shoulders and arms as red as a lobster. My husband thought it would be funny to sing the song "Rock Lobster" to me as he rubbed me down with aloe last night. Yeah, honey, hilarious. Poor thing thinks he's a comedian.

On the plus side, however, my son had a marvelous time, and we got some really good pictures. Yes, we took the baby, and he slept very nicely in the little sunshade that I got for him; it looks like a mini pop-up tent. Of course, I didn't read the directions that say to pour sand in the little outer pocket to keep the thing from blowing over; I sat there the whole time with my foot in the stupid thing so the breeze didn't blow it over. I put the diaper bag inside, but that wasn't enough. When we went to put the thing away, we found the direction. Go figure.

In another vein, Hubby and I have been doing a bible study together that has had very interesting lessons this week. For me, it's nothing that I didn't already believe in my heart, but now I think I can say that I believe it in my head, as well. The revelation? That God is a God of miracles, whether they happened in bible times or today. I have seen over and over in my own life how God works physical miracles (major back surgery at 25, a miscarriage, children that I thought I couldn't have, the list goes on and on), but I think God is telling me through this study that He works other kinds of miracles, too. His wonders are infinite, and we just have to have faith that He can and will. I am a firm believer that there is no such thing as "unanswered prayers", folks. It's just that sometimes the answer isn't what we want to hear, therefore we stop listening.

I pray that I will never stop listening again. Life is so much better when you just open up your heart to what the Lord wants for you. What God wants for you is always better than what you think you want.

More Musings

Well, I remembered one thing. Shawn went to the Dr. on Thursday and found out what was making him break out into the hives. He has allergies, anyway, right? Well, he was having small attacks of the sniffles and sore throat and the like, so he was drinking this herbal tea that I'd bought for me; I ended up not liking it, so it sat there. He found it and decided to try it. Apparently, there is an herb in the tea that is in the same botanical family as ragweed! So his body thought he was drinking ragweed tea, and responded appropriately. There wasn't enough of that herb in it to have a big reaction immediatley, but when the welts came, look out! He was miserable, and rightly so; he couldn't sleep for the itch. That's taken care of now, though. I think he threw out the "Ragweed Tea". We will never speak of it again.

Musings

Well, Mom is due home tomorrow, thank goodness! My dad is doing ok, but he really misses her, I can tell. I went over there on Friday and made him a home-cooked meal; he's not used to eating out all the time! That farm boy is a meat and potatoes guy to the core. He can do alright for awhile; he knows where the Hardee's is, and he can make himself a mean plate of cheese fries, but he can't do a roast like Mom. I told him to get a roast out of the freezer and I'd come over and get it ready for dinner (dinner at the farm is 1:00 in the afternoon) for him.

When I got there, I realized how much more I needed to do. The carpet needed a good vaccuming. I got the roast in the oven, got the vegetables peeled, and then got to work. I was only able to get one room vacuumed, but at least I got the biggest one done! Daddy got a good meal, and the boys and I got to spend some time with Grandpa.

I have so much to talk about, but no words to express it. So many thoughts are running through my brain, I can't get hold of just one to write about. It took all I had to write what I did about Daddy! Maybe I'll try again later...

Tina

Need to flush the Pity Pot!

Ok. I really need a nap!

My best friend is away right now, and it's killing me! My mother is my best friend; I call her every day, at least 2 or three times, I see her at least once a week, if not more. She flew to Romania last weekend; my cousin is getting married there this weekend. She went also because she would have the chance to see my nephews in Germany during a 12 hour layover in Frankfurt. I have 2 nephews there (long story), one of which we've never seen; he was born there. I've already gotten pictures, and MY GOODNESS, they've grown!!! The oldest is taller than Mom! I can tell from the pics and the emails that she's having a good time, and I'm happy for her. She just needs to come home now. Period. (wink)

Anyway, with two little ones of my own, it's nice to have Mom right here to at least talk to, or even pack the kids up and head out to the farm for the day so that the oldest can run around outside. I won't really let him do that in the neighborhood I live in. Nope. Not gonna do it. The only thing I have to worry about at the farm is those shifty-eyed cows!

Not much more to report at the moment. I'm exhausted after two days of the hubby being home sick from work. He's developed an allergy (at least we think) to something, and has off and on for two days straight been breaking out in hives in various places. It's really weird; we can't pinpoint what's going on! He has an appointment with an allergist Thursday, so maybe he can shed some light on the problem. In the meantime, Hubby's taking Benadryl like hard candy and bathing in Cortizone cream. Such is the life of a SAHM. No day goes by without SOME kind of little drama!

My first day as a blogger

So, this is my first blog! I'm trying to figure this thing out, and try to "get connected" as it were, with other bloggers out there. Let me tell you a little bit about myself.

I am a stay-at-home mommy of two beautiful boys, ages 3 and a half and 3 months. My husband is the most patient, biggest teddy bear you'll ever meet, and my extended family is just as wonderful. Oh, we have our problems, to be sure, but it all works.

Hubby and I have been married for 9 years (1o this coming January!). Before we had children, I worked in different offices from CPA's and bookkeeping to a doctor's office. I very much enjoyed the medical office, but right after I got pregnant with my first son, one of my doctor's decided to retire (due to medical reason's of his own) and the other doctor decided to leave the area. Our practice was acquired by a bigger "conglomerate" that decided that since I was pregnant, I was disposable, so I ended up as not part of the deal. Yeah, I know it sounds awful and illegal, but somehow they did it legally, so there was nothing I could do about it, and it all ended up for the best, anyway.

Fast forward 4 years later and I am happy and content as a SAHM, a wife, daughter and a Tupperware consultant. I've been selling Tupperware now for about 2 years, and I guess I'm the worst Tupperware lady ever! I've never done an in-home show, but I've sold enough to keep active and get some free stuff out fo the deal. Perfect for me, but Hubby says that I'm stocking too much, as I've got 2 cabinets full of empty Tupperware and another big Rubbermaid container in the closet full, too.

Oh, geez. The baby is fussing! It's about time for a feeding, and since I'm the only one who can, guess I have to sign off for now. If you come back, I'll tell more stories and such.Storytelling runs in my family; Daddy is the best!

God Bless,

Tina