So I started this blog during my pregnancy for no particular reason except to write down my thoughts. But my thoughts were either depressing or made no sense at all. I blame pregnancy brain. Now, 5 months after the birth of Henry, my brain has started clearing up, life has been returning to normalcy, and I've acquired a new Twitter addiction.
All that to say that I am going to put my Twitter addiction to good use. Instead of just following up on celebrities that I'll never meet in real life, I decided to start tweeting helpful and useful parenting tweets in combo with this blogsite. From now on I'll be available to discuss any and all topics on parenting. And as a mother of 5 I'll be here to let other moms know that they are not alone in the daily grind of raising the world's youth. So let's get this party started!
Friday, January 1, 2010
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
30 weeks down, 10 more to go. . .
When I'm under extreme pressure, or circumstances seem to be harder than usual, I tend to withdraw emotionally so as to be able to deal with my thoughts and with the outside world without breaking down. The end of my pregnancies and the few weeks after the baby is born seems to be some of the most strenuous times of my adult life. Pregnancy seems to amplify some of the emotions that I have trained myself to control, and the hormonal changes and stress on my body make it hard for me to hear and pray and understand what God is doing in my life. My control is constantly being challenged, and I wonder at how I've become so tightly wound that even in worship I'm unable to truly be vulnerable and open to be moved by the Spirit. Why this constant facade of self-control, the enormous walls that I've built? Would it be so bad to lose control just once to be relieved of such pressure and expectation?
I don't really have an answer, nor do I need an answer really. I can't seem to trust my emotions lately, seeing as the physical aspect is tainting my ability to think clearly. But I have discovered a couple of fears that have been affecting the way I've handled the days. . .Gary Smalley would be proud, I think. . .
--I've discovered my annoyance with the fact that I may be able to protect my children now, but they will grow and they will experience life as it happens to them. In this season of my life, I am busy and overwhelmed by having to protect and provide for them a physically, emotionally, and spiritually safe environment and pray everyday that my flaws will not ruin them forever. They are young, and under the protection and influence of my wings. But one day, their life will start unfolding according to what the Lord has for them. How do I pray for them? And then watch them suffer and toil and hurt. What if they do not cling to the Lord of all comfort and strength? How do I keep the enemy from attacking them in their weakest points? I know I don't, I let them mature and learn and trust in Him. It seems so hard to prepare myself to let go. I am tempted to pray that they will just have the simplest, though painful, of heartbreaks and that no one will seek to hurt them. But I know that it's not up to me. They are flawed also, and will make mistakes that will set the course of their life, according to His purposes.
And I guess that if their lives are "happy" and problem-free, then perhaps they are not living out their faith in a way that is demonstrated in the Word. If they never experience hurt or pain, they may not be loving anyone. They would never experience the triumph of fighting for something that's right, the victory of surviving oppression, or the miracles of God's unending Grace and forgiveness.
Lord, take away my fears for my children, and I pray that they will experience You in the fullest, in all circumstances, with thanksgiving.
--The second fear is that I've been feeling unsettled in my heart. I feel like I have this fire burning that wants to be let out. It mostly comes when I hear of others' travels, especially missionaries'. I read of the stories at International Justice Mission and of the women and children who have been rescued. I read stories of triumph in a dark, prison cell. I hear and see videos of children with new hope, with fresh water for the first time. I hear stories of miraculous healings, villages being saved, enemies becoming brothers, Christ being preached for the first time. I want to be a physical part of that, for my children to be a part of that NOW. But it simply is not my place at this particular season of life. God has made it clear that He was not calling me, not just yet. If I were to push the issue, I would be calling myself to the field, and when one calls herself to God's battle field instead of the other way around, it always ends in disaster. In my heightened emotional state, it is so hard not to feel discontent in my life and to be patient for the future. God's timing is perfect, there will always be the poor and oppressed in this world. For now, I have new lives and young minds to mold and disciple.
Lord, I pray that I will do my part in your kingdom, as small as I sometimes think it is. I pray that I will not look on in my own perspective, but in Yours. . .
I don't really have an answer, nor do I need an answer really. I can't seem to trust my emotions lately, seeing as the physical aspect is tainting my ability to think clearly. But I have discovered a couple of fears that have been affecting the way I've handled the days. . .Gary Smalley would be proud, I think. . .
--I've discovered my annoyance with the fact that I may be able to protect my children now, but they will grow and they will experience life as it happens to them. In this season of my life, I am busy and overwhelmed by having to protect and provide for them a physically, emotionally, and spiritually safe environment and pray everyday that my flaws will not ruin them forever. They are young, and under the protection and influence of my wings. But one day, their life will start unfolding according to what the Lord has for them. How do I pray for them? And then watch them suffer and toil and hurt. What if they do not cling to the Lord of all comfort and strength? How do I keep the enemy from attacking them in their weakest points? I know I don't, I let them mature and learn and trust in Him. It seems so hard to prepare myself to let go. I am tempted to pray that they will just have the simplest, though painful, of heartbreaks and that no one will seek to hurt them. But I know that it's not up to me. They are flawed also, and will make mistakes that will set the course of their life, according to His purposes.
And I guess that if their lives are "happy" and problem-free, then perhaps they are not living out their faith in a way that is demonstrated in the Word. If they never experience hurt or pain, they may not be loving anyone. They would never experience the triumph of fighting for something that's right, the victory of surviving oppression, or the miracles of God's unending Grace and forgiveness.
Lord, take away my fears for my children, and I pray that they will experience You in the fullest, in all circumstances, with thanksgiving.
--The second fear is that I've been feeling unsettled in my heart. I feel like I have this fire burning that wants to be let out. It mostly comes when I hear of others' travels, especially missionaries'. I read of the stories at International Justice Mission and of the women and children who have been rescued. I read stories of triumph in a dark, prison cell. I hear and see videos of children with new hope, with fresh water for the first time. I hear stories of miraculous healings, villages being saved, enemies becoming brothers, Christ being preached for the first time. I want to be a physical part of that, for my children to be a part of that NOW. But it simply is not my place at this particular season of life. God has made it clear that He was not calling me, not just yet. If I were to push the issue, I would be calling myself to the field, and when one calls herself to God's battle field instead of the other way around, it always ends in disaster. In my heightened emotional state, it is so hard not to feel discontent in my life and to be patient for the future. God's timing is perfect, there will always be the poor and oppressed in this world. For now, I have new lives and young minds to mold and disciple.
Lord, I pray that I will do my part in your kingdom, as small as I sometimes think it is. I pray that I will not look on in my own perspective, but in Yours. . .
Saturday, December 13, 2008
8 weeks, 32 left to go
Today was a better day than most. My morning sickness was held at bay by the 4 eggs I had for breakfast. Not to mention I got a whole 7 hours of sleep. Lela helped me this morning by unloading the dishwasher and cleaning the living room while I folded endless amounts of laundry and cleaned the kitchen. We had an entire week's worth of chores to do, and accomplished them by noon. I couldn't help thinking to myself, "If I just did the work as it was needed instead of let it pile, it wouldn't be so overwhelming." But I had to give myself a break. I can't do everything, especially feeling the way I do.
This fifth pregnancy is turning out to be quite different than the rest. First of all, I have four other children and a husband to worry about. With the fourth, Johnny was only home on weekends and I never had to do his laundry. That was nice. Second of all, I can't seem to keep up with the new demands my body is needing of me. I can't sleep whenever I need, rest whenever I want, eat whatever I want. I can only imagine what I'll become next summer, when I'll be big and bumbly.
The only good thing I have on my side is experience. At least I know what I'm doing. And I gotta say: I don't mind so much the nausea, the weight gain, the already poofing belly, the flattening booty, the tree trunk legs, the hips growing a couple inches wider, the walrus cheeks, the crazy mood swings or even the warped taste-buds. It's the p-brain that is most annoying me. The pregnancy brain is not what I need. I feel like a flake and an airhead. And I keep having little blips of panic because I keep thinking it's Monday and I've missed an appointment, class or event. Every hour of everyday is usually spent in strategizing schedules, car-rides, meals, classes, parties, errands and chores. But since I can hardly have two coherant thoughts in a row, this has become difficult. The very worst part (yes it does get worse) is that there's not anything I can really do about it. Maybe hire a teenager to come in and help once a week. Maybe sleep a little more. But sleep for more than 6 hours is a luxury with a two-year old who is training to stay in bed.
Well, this is week 8. I'll see how things go. I just gotta hang in there for 10 more weeks and I should feel better. Hopefully I won't be too much heavier. I'm feeling frumpy as it is. At least I know there is a purpose to all this uncomfy-ness. The baby's heart is beating now and my body is building the home to sustain his/her life for the next 8 months. Amazing.
This fifth pregnancy is turning out to be quite different than the rest. First of all, I have four other children and a husband to worry about. With the fourth, Johnny was only home on weekends and I never had to do his laundry. That was nice. Second of all, I can't seem to keep up with the new demands my body is needing of me. I can't sleep whenever I need, rest whenever I want, eat whatever I want. I can only imagine what I'll become next summer, when I'll be big and bumbly.
The only good thing I have on my side is experience. At least I know what I'm doing. And I gotta say: I don't mind so much the nausea, the weight gain, the already poofing belly, the flattening booty, the tree trunk legs, the hips growing a couple inches wider, the walrus cheeks, the crazy mood swings or even the warped taste-buds. It's the p-brain that is most annoying me. The pregnancy brain is not what I need. I feel like a flake and an airhead. And I keep having little blips of panic because I keep thinking it's Monday and I've missed an appointment, class or event. Every hour of everyday is usually spent in strategizing schedules, car-rides, meals, classes, parties, errands and chores. But since I can hardly have two coherant thoughts in a row, this has become difficult. The very worst part (yes it does get worse) is that there's not anything I can really do about it. Maybe hire a teenager to come in and help once a week. Maybe sleep a little more. But sleep for more than 6 hours is a luxury with a two-year old who is training to stay in bed.
Well, this is week 8. I'll see how things go. I just gotta hang in there for 10 more weeks and I should feel better. Hopefully I won't be too much heavier. I'm feeling frumpy as it is. At least I know there is a purpose to all this uncomfy-ness. The baby's heart is beating now and my body is building the home to sustain his/her life for the next 8 months. Amazing.
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