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