The real superhero’s…

Until I became a mom, I did not appreciate my mom enough. I took for granted the years of packed lunches waiting on the kitchen counter every morning; the clean laundry that automatically appeared in my dressers each week; the never empty bottle of shampoo in the shower; the warm dinners served before a million evening activities; the papers that were always filled out when the school needed them; the doctor’s appointments that were somehow made without me worrying about it; and so many more things that I never gave a thought!

And then I became a mom… and realized that it was now my job to juggle three kids, 1 husband (who is usually just a fourth kid), laundry, meals, housework, shopping, activities, bills, paperwork, appointments, birthdays, holidays, and everything else that falls on us mom’s. And I admit, I wasn’t always the best juggler… I was always dropping one ball or another. My mom always made it look so easy. How did she do it?

My mom was truly Wonder Woman. I just never noticed her cape until I was older. She was, and still is, such a strong woman who always seemed to be able to do anything and everything. I have memories of her planting and picking fresh veggies from her own garden. I couldn’t even always manage to buy and microwave a bag of frozen greens for my kids.

I can still see her standing at the ironing board after school, ironing our clothes as the aroma of fresh cookies filled the house. What? I threw our clothes into the dryer until the wrinkles were a little less and the smell of pre packaged Oreos did not fill the air.

As a kid, I would climb into sheets that smelled like fresh air from being hung outside on the wash line. Meanwhile there were times I told my kids to just sleep on top of their comforters because I didn’t feel like putting their sheets back on the bed after running them around all day and night.

I would always have a balanced lunch packed and ready as I rushed out the door to the bus. If I threw a Fruit Rollup, a cheese stick and a bag of chips in my kids lunchboxes, I figured that was hitting at least some of the food pyramid. Good enough!

She could even serve a meal that was on the table all at once and still warm! Now that is mind blowing because I am always still microwaving something as we pray for our meal.

My mom was a caregiver. She took care of all of us. Even when she had breast cancer, when I was 14, she would get up after her treatments to ask how our days were. Exhausted from chemo, she wanted to know how school went that day. She was selfless. She loved with endless love. She was brave. She was the epitome of strength. She was/is my hero!

Today it’s Mother’s Day and we take time to honor our mom’s! I am thankful to not only have my mom, but to have a mom-in-law (Donna) who has always treated me like her own daughter. She accepted me into her family immediately and loved me unconditionally since day #1. She also taught me how to be a mother-in-law. It’s not always easy to merge families but I am grateful that she made me feel so welcome in my new family 29 years ago. But even more, she was my example on how to love my kids-in-law as my own! (And I do love you unconditionally Katie, Mandi and Jaiden!)

Today finds Donna in a hospital room in the Intensive Care Unit with a machine breathing for her. She has been there for 12 days unable to breathe like you and I are so naturally doing. Starting with pneumonia, damage was done to her lungs and she needs an intubation tube and sedation so she can rest her weak and tired lungs while she sleeps. Before she was intubated, she wrote my father-in-law (Norm) a detailed list of tasks to do since she usually takes care of the many details in their lives. Cancel dental appointments, do the laundry, run the dishwasher, don’t forget anyone’s birthdays. We, as women, even sick, think about all of those little things which keep our families on track. If my mom is Wonder Woman, my mother-in-law is Super Woman! These two ladies both have capes and super powers. And like Clark Kent, they are often unrecognized for their strength, courage and devotion.

I was able to visit my mom yesterday for Mother’s Day. My mom has been diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. She is doing great compared to how she was before her diagnosis. But watching these mom’s get older and experience some physical trials, it makes me see what is important and what is not. Gifts, cards, and flowers are a great way to show appreciation but time together is what is valuable. Just time to talk and laugh and share and encourage. That is a gift. Irreplaceable. Priceless.

Today I just want to thank these two super hero mom’s who taught me how to be a mother! You both encouraged me, loved me, listened to me and supported me. You’ve prayed for me, cried for me and guided me. You love my children as deeply as I do. And you both would do anything, and I mean anything, for my family. On my many hospital stays, I was comforted knowing one of you was at home caring for my children in my absence.

I cannot begin to thank you… there simply are not words to express my gratitude to you two amazing women who I have the HONOR to call Mom! I think the best tribute to my mom’s was to raise my kids to embrace all of those super hero characteristics that you both encompass. Here are a few traits that I got from my mom and mom-in-law that I tried to instill in my own children.

    Love of God
    Love of Family
    Faith
    Truth
    Prayer
    Forgiveness
    Joy
    Understanding
    Kindness
    Compassion
    Listening
    Serving
    Humor
    Patience
    Determination
    Empathy

So while a simple thank you cannot express the gratitude and love I feel, it’s all I can think to say. Thank you.

Happy Mother’s Day to all of the superheroes who silently serve without always getting the recognition or appreciation you deserve! Know that this 24/7 job is the both the best and hardest job you will ever have and the rewards far outweigh the challenges.

Donna… please get well soon! We all need you and want you around for many more years! You are one of the strongest and quietly serving women I know. You love others deeply without looking for attention or acknowledgement. For now rest peacefully and let God heal your body.

Mom… thanks for always taking care of all of us so well! Even when you are weary, you selflessly give of yourself. You always have a listening ear and a kind word whenever I need it. I wish we lived closer but each moment I get with you, I treasure!

Surprising my mom for Mother’s Day with all of her kids.

My mother-in-law with some of her girls.

And to my favorites who made me both a mom & mother-in-law.

Insomnia

It’s almost 3 am and I am wide awake. I am not the slightest bit tired, but I am bored as I lay in my bed in the dark watching the hours tick by. I have been struggling with insomnia for months now and have even begun to take a sleeping aid each night. It hasn’t kicked in yet tonight despite the fact that I took it five hours ago.

I could read. I could watch TV. I could scroll through Facebook. But instead I am thinking. Yikes. My 2am thoughts range from “I miss my kids” to “Gosh, I want a popsicle” to “Dang, I need to pee but don’t want to get out of bed.”

The past few weeks… actually the past few months… okay the entire year has been hard.

I’ve said good-bye to my daughter and son-in-law as they moved out of state.

I have heard close family members get bad news about their health.

I have watched two parents struggle just to breathe.

I’ve listened and watched dear friends go through really tough situations.

I have watched young people that I love experience and feel loss.

I’ve watched people just walk away from something I helped grow.

I’ve been hospitalized.

I’ve learned people I thought were my friends really aren’t.

I’ve been confronted.

I’ve been overwhelmed.

I’ve been disappointed.

I’ve been lonely.

I’ve been hurt.

I’ve been sad.

I’ve cried.

Why am I telling you this? Because I think we have all had these feelings. And tough situations. And bad news. And hurt feelings. And good-byes.

And you know what? It sucks. I’m not going to sugar coat it, sometimes this world and this life just plain old sucks. And truthfully, I am weary. I am just downright tired… not physically but emotionally drained.

BUT…

(And but means something is coming… something that changes everything… a game changer!)

BUT…

My God still has me.

And I will trust Him.

My God is in control. He knows my innermost feelings and struggles. He loves me. He cares for me. He will comfort me. He will give me peace. He will give me strength. He will carry my burdens and give me rest. He’s got my back. And I can, I WILL, trust Him!

If you are a man, stop reading…

This post is really for certain women who are about 50 years old or older. You know who you are… The cranky ones. The hot ones. The saggy ones. The non sleeping ones. The emotional ones.

The women who are on the verge of going postal at any moment.

Otherwise known as… MENOPAUSAL women.

I am writing this blog because hormones have plagued me for quite a bit of my life. First, in my teens, I began with puberty. You remember those early days when you would be laughing one minute and literally crying the next but you had no idea why. Those days when you were miserable and you could hear your parents whispering, “It must be hormonal.” What the heck were hormones? And how did I get rid of them? Then suddenly you get your monthly period and you are besieged with pimples, cramps, more moodiness and bloating. Then it’s blamed on PMS. ( aka Pass my Sweatpants, Psychotic Mood Swings, Perpetual Munching Spree, Pissy Mood Syndrome… should I go on? Nah… you get the picture!)

As you finally spend years getting used to that maddening monthly cycle, you soon have to deal with pregnancy hormones, which is really a 9 month roller coaster ride that has stops at nausea, breast tenderness, fatigue, anxiety, heartburn, non stop peeing, swelling, constipation or diarrhea, and general discomfort. This little miracle makes your organs squish, causes you to piddle a little when laughing and makes you crave mashed potatoes at 2am which you then vomit by 3am. (But truly growing a precious human inside of you is actually amazing and miraculous.)

But that only lasts 9 months, right? Oh wait… don’t forget about those postpartum symptoms including exhaustion, constipation, tinkling a bit when sneezing or coughing or laughing, weeping at Hallmark commercials, leaking breast’s which are now the size of Dolly Parton’s, sagging body parts that were once perky, and sometimes depression can really hit hard. Add a newborn baby who is dependent on us for everything, complete lack of sleep and feeding this sweet child from your aching, saggy, leaking breast’s. Most women do this cycle of pregnancy and postpartum more than once. And we celebrate it as we should but seldom talk about the challenges of all of it. Baby blues. It’s real. It’s hard. It’s wonderful.

Now at age 50, I am an empty nester. My kids are all grown and married so no more carpools, school conferences, dinners in the car or mounds of laundry and empty pantries. This should be a wonderful time to focus again on myself and my husband.

But hold that thought… now it’s time to welcome menopause.

My internal thermometer is busted. I am either freezing and sitting with a space heater on my lap or sweating from pores I didn’t know I had. Most likely I am so hot that I can’t take enough clothing off as I lay under a ceiling fan, have another fan aimed right at me with the AC set at 60 degrees in February. Meanwhile my husband is sitting on the couch with long johns, a parka and wool socks shivering as I am stuffing ice packs in my bra. If I hear his footsteps dare walk towards the home thermostat to turn up the heat, I turn into the girl from the Exorcist as I growl, “Don’t you dare touch that.” He can put more clothing or blankets on but I literally cannot take anything else off. I’ve waited my whole life to be hot, but this isn’t the hot I hoped for! Oy vey!

Once I heard someone say, “I asked for a smoking hot body but this is not what I had in mind.”

Add insomnia to the list of menopausal symptoms. Some nights I am still laying awake at 3am. I look at the clock constantly and think… if you fall asleep now, you will get 5 hours of sleep. Okay, now you will get 4 hours of sleep. And I keep counting off the hours as I lay there agonizing over my lack of sleep all the while watching my husband happily sound asleep next to me. Some nights I just want to smack him so he can share in my misery. I don’t but believe me, I have thought about it. Finally I fall asleep and then hit the snooze button 72 times in the morning because then I cannot wake up. My days now begin around noon since they don’t end till 4am.

Forgetfulness is another fun aspect of the “change.” I spend half my day going into a room only to wonder why I went there in the first place. Of course two hours later I will finally remember what I needed only to forget again five minutes later. One day I spent 20 minutes searching for my cell phone only to realize I was talking to my mother on it the entire time I searched my house. My mom actually told me once that she purchased vitamins to improve her memory. I asked her if they helped at all and she said, “No because I never remember to take them.” Yep… that’s the menopause fog.

Let’s talk about weight during menopause? I want to lose weight and can stick to a diet for awhile but then suddenly I want to eat something sweet, something salty, something sweet, something salty… until before I know it, I consumed 20,000 calories in one sitting.

I definitely no longer have the body of my youth. I seem to gain inches in width and lose inches in height. Bloating, wrinkled and flabby replaced skinny, firm and youthful. Plus the body parts that were once perky are now saggy. Gravity is no longer my friend. I would like to wear Spanx to keep things in place but geez… they are like wearing a sauna suit and then you sweat even more in areas that are not meant to sweat.

Depression, anxiety, impatience, irritability and mood swings are one of the worst parts of menopause. I can be happy one day and the next day want to stay in bed all day with a sad movie, box of tissues and no contact with others. Or I can be smiling one minute and snapping the next. I could liken it to being Cinderella and suddenly turning into Cruella D’Ville.

Poor Steve has probably witnessed that transformation more than he would like to admit. Some days just his chewing makes me want to climb out of my skin. Steve… hopefully I will return to normal eventually. Hang in there. (Although you were supposed to stop reading so maybe you won’t even see this part of my rant.)

Thankfully this season will pass and then I will no longer have to deal with these pesky hormones. Sadly though I will then have to deal with senior moments like waking up 3 times a night to pee, passing gas whenever I move, falling asleep in my recliner as I watch the 5 o’clock news, eating dinner at 4pm and saying “Back when I was a kid…” My mom always says, “Getting old isn’t for sissies.”

In closing, I will just share a quote by the funny cartoon Maxine…

“My greatest fear is that menopause doesn’t exist and this is the real me.”

Thanks Eve… 🍎🍎🍎

Feeling loved

Last week-end I drove myself to the emergency room. I had some sort of bug for a few days and was finally feeling slightly more like a human. So why the ER? Well my right leg swelled up so big that I knew something was wrong. And since I don’t feel it, I figured I better get it checked out.

My husband was teaching Sunday School so I took myself to the hospital, checked myself in and called to let him know there I was. I thought I would just quietly go… no fuss necessary. I was feeling down as my youngest child moved out of the state that morning and I knew I was going to miss her like crazy. I knew I needed to go to the hospital but didn’t want to talk to people.

I didn’t feel the best but I wasn’t in any pain. (0 on the new pain chart.) However, word got out at my church that Sunday morning and my friends texted and called. Three of them, plus my husband, came over to the hospital to be with me. I thought I wanted to be alone but God knew better. He knew I needed friends that day. We probably annoyed the staff but I was quickly grateful for dear friends who made me laugh during the crap that comes along with a visit to the ER.

It took SEVEN attempts to get an IV line in, which made me cry a little. I hate getting IV’s, even after all of the tests and surgeries I’ve endured over the years. For some reason I am a horrible stick and they never get it the first, second, third time. Once it took 14 attempts. This time even a medic with an ultrasound machine could not get that darn needle to work.

Once they finally got that in, the nurse came in to swab me for the flu. I guess that was because I had previously had a fever of 103.8 with the shakes, chills and other flu like symptoms. She asked me, “Are you ready for a frontal lobotomy?” Well how bad could a simple flu swab be, right? Dang… she was not kidding! She put this long q-tip with little brushes on the end up into my sinuses and it literally felt like she was scraping my brain. Holy cow! It hurt. And then she had to do it to the other side which was worse because I knew what was coming. Now I’ve had all kinds of tests over the 27 years of my paralysis but this was about as unpleasant as you can get. I was grateful for my husband’s hand holding mine as I squeezed it from pain. Next time I am saying “no thanks” to a flu swab!

The ER doc came in and looked at my leg. Now my friend, Mari, who was a trauma ER nurse and my niece, Danielle, who is studying to be a nurse, both looked at my leg and said it looked like cellulitis (an infection in your skin). I had googled all of my symptoms and it seemed like a classic case of it. And you know… Webb MD is always right. But this doctor did not think so. She had me tested for a blood clot which came back negative. So she was going to send me home. I seldom question doctor’s or stand up for myself yet I knew my leg would not swell this large for no reason. My one friend, Jeannie, has a son who is in and out of the hospital and Mari, the ER nurse, knew that I should not be sent home so they questioned her. I was very thankful for them because that doctor sent for a second opinion. I probably would have just gone home despite knowing I needed medical treatment.

Well Dr McDreamy (a 27 year old resident) entered, as well as another resident and their supervising doctor who all took one look and confirmed it was cellulitis. The head doctor decided I needed to be admitted and put on IV antibiotics. I tried to negotiate a release time as I was getting a haircut the next day. My normal girl is on maternity leave (Emme who had the sweetest baby girl, Caroline), but I couldn’t wait any longer so I tried to get him to agree to a release time. He, however, said he was keeping me until I was better. Well that was vague and not very helpful. He told me to cancel my appointment. If you know me at all, you know I am not particularly fond of hospital stays and am always negotiating my release. This doctor didn’t budge despite my best negotiating tactics.

As soon as the doctor and residents left, I made my friends shut the door so we could all ogle over the attractive resident. Now we are all middle aged women with sons. And two of us have sons the same age as that handsome doctor. I felt a little creepy but I can still appreciate a cutie patootie, right?

By this point, my husband and two friends had gone home, leaving me with my long time friend, Kristin. They were transporting me to a room, which meant Kristin had to follow us so she could bring my wheelchair to the new room. Once I had asked Kristin to get me a glass of water from my manual chair. Forty-five minutes later she brought me a glass with approximately 1/2 inch of water. So I wasn’t sure how this would go. Neither was the doctor who ended up on the elevator with us. The elevator stopped on his floor before we reached our floor and looking at Kristin, he said, “I will just wait and ride back down.” He had watched her maneuver the chair onto the elevator and felt safer staying in the corner with his feet out of harm’s way.

Once we arrived and I was settled into my room, I needed to take care of my bathroom needs. Afterwards I said to Kristin that I needed a wet, soapy paper towel to which she brightened up and said, “I just saw wipes outside your door. I will grab you some.” I used a few to wash my hands nice and clean and she looked down at the container and gasped. It said, in big letters and pictures on the container, “DO NOT USE ON SKIN.”

Her facial expression was priceless as she realized that she gave me wipes to use only on metal services and were not good for people unless you were wearing gloves. Mortified, she said very concerned and serious, ” Oh my gosh… I am going to give you a skin infection!”

I started cracking up. After all, I was just admitted to the hospital for a skin infection.

I reassured her that I would be fine since I was going to be on IV antibiotics for a skin infection anyway. We both laughed and realized that no matter what was going on, we always managed to have fun together. And just for the record, my hands are fine. No sign of infection there.

She had to eventually leave but Steve came back as well as one of my teen girls, Chelsie; my son, Zach; my sister-in-law, Jenny; and my niece, Danielle. The last two visitors actually came to scold me because I had been very sick for 5 days prior and they had been encouraging me to go to the doctor for awhile. But since my daughter was moving to Virginia, I wanted to spend her last few days in Pennsylvania with her as well as watch her dance one last time at the Reading Royals . I alway say I will probably die, neglecting my health because I don’t want to give up something fun.

This little hospital stay wasn’t really a big deal compared to other stays. Yet it showed me something I desperately needed that day. I was loved.

I have friends and family who will drop whatever they are doing to be there for me.

They will stick up for me even when I won’t.

They will comfort me when I’m scared.

They will make me laugh when I don’t feel like laughing.

They will scold me when I make stupid choices.

They will love me when I’m at my worst.

So for everyone who came to visit, called me, texted me, prayed for me and showed me love last week… thank you.

And to my husband and all six of my kiddo’s, thank you for being there, checking in on me, calling me and loving me. You are truly the most important people in my life!

Living life in a wheelchair isn’t always easy. But knowing I have such an amazing support group to share my burdens makes it easier.

My swollen, rash-y leg

Kristin following me in my wheelchair

The toxic wipes

Neglecting my health but watching my dancer dance in Reading one last time.

Not Always Yes

Today my pastor, Pastor Russ Weidel, spoke about prayer and in his message he said that God has four responses to prayer…

YES

NO

NOT YET &

YOU’VE GOTTA BE KIDDING ME?

He added the fourth somewhat in humor but I found it quite possible, even probable, that sometimes God is shaking His head at our requests. Pastor Russ also said that God does not always say yes to our prayers. He always answers but the answer is not always yes.

It reminded me of when I became paralyzed 27 years ago. As a new wife, new mom, young woman and follower of Christ, I prayed for Jesus to heal me. I prayed that I would be able to wiggle a toe. I prayed that I would be able to lift my leg. I prayed for feeling when the doctors stuck a needle in my leg. I prayed to walk. I prayed for a miracle.

Others prayed for this too. I know many family members, friends, and even strangers prayed that I would walk again. They went to the throne of God on my behalf, asking for a miracle. I look back and am amazed at the people who prayed for me.

After a while I felt like I was letting people down. They would tell me they were praying for me to be healed yet month after month passed and no matter how hard I tried and how much I wanted it, I still wasn’t able to make my brain force my toe to wiggle. It was a terrible feeling which caused me to have many questions and confusions. I doubted if my faith was strong enough. I questioned if I wasn’t trying as hard as I could. I wondered if I had done something wrong and if God was punishing me. I struggled with guilt for not being healed.

But God doesn’t always say yes.

In my case, God did not say yes to those prayers. But that’s not the end of my story. While I have not been healed physically, 27 years later I can clearly see how much He has blessed me and used me as a paraplegic. Paralysis is my story and He always uses our stories beyond what we can imagine.

Instead of walking, God said yes to allowing me to grow closer to Him. Through all of my surgeries, pressure sores, muscle spasms and sleepless nights, God has used those trials to help me draw closer to Him. Nights spent alone in a hospital room caused me to cry out to Him for rest. Times of intense fear caused me to seek Him for comfort. Days struggling with unending pain had me calling to Him for strength beyond my own.

God said yes to giving me an opportunity to share my story with people that I never would have met if I wasn’t in a wheelchair. I have met countless people who are disabled or know someone who is disabled or just are struggling and need someone to talk to about their pain. He has given me a mission field of people who I can reach since I have endured so much physically and emotionally from my paralysis.

God said yes to giving me my deepest desire of more children. I loved my first son and was so grateful for his life but God blessed our family by growing it with a little boy from across the ocean and then surprising us all with a baby girl too. I never expected God to answer my heart’s desire with THREE beautiful children.

God said yes to letting me find humor on tough days. Not every day and every situation is funny, but God has given me a gift to find laughter in the midst of my trials. One day I had a terrible bowel accident when we were at Penn State University for a track meet. I sobbed that day, hating my life and mortified at the embarrassment of such an awful circumstance. But now it makes me laugh because it was the day I met my future son-in-law, Jaiden. (Crappy way to meet someone, huh? See what I did there.)

God said yes to building my character. He has allowed awkward moments, unbelievable situations and some difficult testing of my faith to grow me in many areas. I have grown stronger through my weakness; thankful when it’s hard to find joy; trusting when I am fearful; and dependent when I want to have control. As my pastor said today, God is more concerned about our character than our comfort.

God said yes to so many things which are better than walking. After 27 years of sitting in a wheelchair, peeing through a tube, having accidents at the worst times, enduring spasms that make me cry, experiencing 19 surgeries, countless hospital stays and even being on death’s door a few times, I have learned that sometimes the best gifts come from God “not always saying yes.”

And the best part… I don’t believe God said no to my prayer of walking. I believe He instead has answered with a NOT YET! Because one day I am going to be before God in Heaven and He is going to answer my prayers. He will say ARISE and I will immediately be healed and spend eternity walking down the streets of gold. (Plus racing Zach, pole vaulting with Alex & dancing with Morgan.)

What a glorious day that will be!

Unexpected gifts…

When I was 29 years old…

I had a very high risk pregnancy.

My life could have been at risk during both the pregnancy and delivery.

I had a husband and two small sons at home.

Abortion was suggested to me by my physicians.

I would like to share the story of my last pregnancy. But first you must know… I am a follower of Jesus Christ. I believe in life. I believe life begins at conception.

At age 29, I was a young mom of two little boys and found myself in a situation I never expected. Backing up a bit… at the age of 23, I gave birth to my first son, Zach, and due to complications I became a paraplegic. During surgery they discovered some life threatening issues, including an aneurysm and two spinal AVM’s. The specialists at Columbia University Hospital in NYC did their best to block blood flow to those areas but were not able to block them more than 40%. The paralysis was caused by the extra blood flow from the pregnancy so a future pregnancy would hold a lot of unknowns and possible risks.

After many discussions, we decided that we weren’t ready to take any risks with my life so we chose to adopt our second child. We adopted our second son, Alex, as a three year old from an orphanage in Romania. I can’t lie and say that there weren’t big adjustments, especially for Alex who had left the only life he knew to join a family of strangers in a foreign land but also for Zach who had been our one and only for five years and now had to share his room, his toys and his parents with a brother who didn’t even speak English. But as a family we began to adapt to our new normal and settle into a routine together. As a paraplegic, it took some time for me to acclimate to having two active, busy preschoolers but I truly loved being a mom to these two little ones.

As Alex’s first anniversary with our family approached, I began to notice that I was not feeling well. I had a lot of nausea and even bouts of vomiting. Never giving pregnancy a passing thought, I mentioned it to my friend, Cindy. She asked me if pregnancy was a possibility which I immediately laughed at the notion. Yet as days passed and the symptoms increased, the thought took root in my head. I mentioned it to my husband who promptly drove to Walmart purchasing a double pack of pregnancy tests.

The first test yielded a very faint pink line but it was not very clear one way or the other. The second test was similar. It showed a faint line indicating pregnancy but unlike our first pregnancy, it was not immediately positive. Steve hopped back in the car and back to Walmart for another test in a different brand. He came home with another two pack. This time the line was very obvious that I was indeed pregnant. I took the fourth test just because my insides were freaking out as my brain began to realize what the positive test meant.

This test meant a precious little life was growing inside me. But it also meant an abundance of conflicting emotions and thoughts.

I was overjoyed. I was terrified.

I wanted more children. I didn’t want to leave the two children I already had.

I wanted to shout it from the rooftops. I didn’t want anyone to know.

I couldn’t wait to have a newborn again. What on earth would I do with a newborn?

I wanted to live. I would give my life for this child.

God blessed me. WHY God?

These thoughts (and many more) were my constant companions. Once reality set in, I began to see various doctors trying to determine what this pregnancy meant for me.

One doctor sat me down and gave me some scary truths. My situation was unknown to all of my specialists. They had not had a situation like mine and were unsure of the complications and risks to my health. I had two children at home and I had to consider them because this was a very high risk pregnancy for me. He laid out the option of an abortion saying that I needed to consider all of my options since there were just so many unknowns. While he did not push it, I knew that it was a suggestion he thought I should seriously consider.

I had gone alone to that appointment. I needed to hear the truth, but I was frightened by all he said. Was I selfish if I had this baby? Would I die and leave my boys alone? What was the right decision? Yet as I left his office, peace settled around my heart and I knew that an abortion was not the answer for me. The peace didn’t remove all of my fears. Some days I would look at the faces of my little boys and just beg God to keep me safe so I could watch them grow up. But the peace gave me the assurance that no matter what happened, God was in control and I could trust Him with not only my life but the life of my unborn baby.

Once the doctors realized that abortion was not going to be an option, it was never mentioned again as they just jumped on board to make this pregnancy go as easily as possible. They still discussed concerns but I felt as though each doctor and nurse I met made it their goal to get both of us to the finish line healthy and whole.

As the pregnancy progressed, I spent numerous hours in one doctor’s office or another. I saw a neurosurgeon for the issues in my spine; I went weekly to my OB/GYN for monitoring; I went weekly to a high risk doctor for ultrasounds and testing; I had to see my urologist (this baby killed my bladder); and my regular doctors who just followed my personal health and my medications. Medications were another big issue because some I absolutely had to have, yet could harm the baby so I opted not to take them despite the added problems it caused me physically.

When I was 34 weeks pregnant, I went in to see my OB who was a believer and very compassionate man. He came in and he asked me how I was feeling and although I am a very strong person, I burst into tears and told him I could not be pregnant for one more second.

I was peeing my pants constantly. I was either constipated or had the runs. I had non stop muscle spasms. I was uncomfortable. I was nauseous. I WAS DONE.

(I also had rowdy four & six year old sons and had just packed and moved our entire home while my husband was out of town for work quite a bit. My rope was getting shorter and shorter and my grip was slipping.)

After an amniocentesis to make sure the baby would be safe, my doctors got together and made a delivery plan. I would deliver my baby (even after weekly ultrasounds, I did not know if it was a boy or girl) by C-Section four weeks early. The neurosurgeon did not feel it was safe to insert an epidural in my spine so I had to be put under general anesthesia for the delivery. The high risk specialist would be in attendance to monitor me while my OB would perform the C-Section.

Moments before I was to go into the operating room, my husband and I prayed together. We were both afraid. I was shaking. But we trusted God. No matter what would happen in the next hour, we had trust that God was writing our story.I knew I made the right choice. This unborn baby who I had yet to meet was as much my child as Zach or Alex and I could never take any of their lives. Even if it meant losing mine.

Praise the Lord my story was not yet over. After I woke up from surgery, I saw my husband standing there with our precious baby girl. Unspeakable joy filled me as I realized that I had two little boys and now a baby girl. My heart wanted to burst with gratitude for surviving the pregnancy and delivery and the realization that my deepest prayers were answered and the desire of my heart was given. Tears filled my eyes as I kissed my husband knowing together we would watch our sweet family grow.

My sons gained a little sister, Morgan, and other than an infection in my body, I was healthy. I did have my tubes tied because I didn’t want to risk my life again. I am still so grateful for these unexpected gifts from God. All three of my kiddos. My three kids-in-law. Realizing how valuable life is. Learning to depend on God. Discovering peace and joy amidst worry and fear. Trusting when your faith is shaky. All unexpected. All gifts.

My story may not be how I would have written it but I have learned to be thankful that God is the author holding the pen.

My story < His glory

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As New York passed the bill this week for full term abortions, I have seen and heard arguments from both sides of the debate. Personally I am deeply saddened by this bill as I value both life and adoption. I do not write my story to debate or argue with anyone but rather to be understanding of how circumstances and life can be frightening. I hope to encourage women to help one another, support one another, love one another. I also hope it encourages you to trust God when you feel hopeless and afraid.

Maybe choice begins with the choice to join our hands with less judgement and more love. Less criticism and more compassion. Less selfishness and more serving. Less guilt and more prayer. Less me and more Jesus.

The day Morgan was born & her big brother’s meeting her. (Steve lost the stache thank goodness!)

Zach, Morgan & Alex on Morgan’s wedding day

Photo by Cross Photography

God knows you and loves you.

 

No one to kiss but a dog…

My start to 2019 began with the ball dropping on TV and me in bed with my two grand pups. Steve had fallen asleep on the couch and I was tired so went to bed alone. As the clock struck midnight, I hugged El (my little grand pup) and she licked my face. So yep… I kissed a dog to celebrate the entrance of a New Year!

(To save face, we did have friends over but we were all tired so they left at 10:45 pm and my husband did kiss me at 11:30 before he fell asleep on the couch. He had been up at 5:30 am since he worked that day. So that left me alone and smooching the dog!)

The new year is like getting a brand new journal. Fresh and clean and ready for a new story. I always love getting a new writing journal… it’s just waiting to be filled up with a story, thoughts, doodles or prayers. As we begin a new year, it is a time to look back and evaluate our past but also to look forward and plan and dream about a new, fresh start. It’s a time to make changes and resolutions. (And probably break some or all of those resolutions by February 1st.)

Recently I was in a Sunday School class and the teacher (shout out to Joe Kak) spoke about what you would like to resolve (promise to yourself or to God) for 2019. I made a list of some things that I would like to work on in this new year. I don’t want to call them resolutions necessarily because to me those are a bit cliche and easy to break. I also decided not to do the “normal” resolutions like going to the gym every day or no longer eating sugar (which I would like to do except for this little devil called ice cream.)

So for 2019… I resolve to work on…

1. Prayer. This is my #1 because I would like to be a person who says “I will be praying” and mean it. Saying “I will pray for you” has become trite… something we say when someone is struggling or sick or hurting. If I say it, I want you to know that I am truly praying. I want to become a woman who talks to God. All. The. Time.

2. Encouragement. I can tend to get self focused and busy in my own life. Don’t we all?! I think of people often but I want to work on taking it beyond a thought and reach out in action with a note, text, phone call, visit or a gift. Encourage means to inspire, hearten, embolden, fill with confidence… I want to be someone who fills others up.

3. Hospitality. I love people and miss having people in my home. One area I would to change is to let go of my loneliness since becoming an empty nester and invite more people into my home. Admittedly, I do not enjoy cooking but I can be hospitable with a take out pizza. Everyone likes pizza (except gluten and dairy free folks but I usually have lettuce and carrots in the fridge because let’s face it, the cookies get eaten quicker than the carrots). So I would like to fill my home back up with laughter and talking and fellowship.

(Btw… I was just joking and would offer more than lettuce & carrots to my gluten/dairy free friends. Thankfully there are many choices now for those with restrictions.)

Those are my three big ones… a few little ones are…

Sigh less. I drop a lot and therefore sigh a lot. With little balance and sitting in a wheelchair, retrieving things I have dropped is a struggle which leads me to loud and often overly dramatic sighing. I have already failed every day at this but awareness of said sighing has to be some sort of positivity, right? (Be an encourager and agree with me.)

Just today I failed at this as I tried to carry all of my groceries into the house at once and of course, several bags broke as I was going up the ramp and food went rolling everywhere and I could not reach half of it and the other half blocked my entrance into the house. This ended with not only a sigh but me yelling out loud and outside for all the neighbors to hear… “SERIOUSLY!!!“

Look for the positive. Searching for the positive in a world of constant negatives is a habit I want to develop. I want to look for the positive both in people and in situations. Searching for the positive amidst annoying people or during aggravating situations is a goal for 2019.

Living life as a paraplegic creates constant frustrating situations. It also gives you an opportunity to see some very rude people like the woman who recently took the last handicapped parking space, hopped out of her car in high heels, and strutted into Target… can I please have her disability instead? I guess they now give placards for the chronic illness of ignorance.

So I am going to strive to look for the positive. For example… those annoyances give me fodder for my blog.

Establish better habits. Honestly my sleep schedule is out of whack, my diet is irregular and not balanced, my motivation level is low, my house needs organization and I spend too much time on my phone. Oh yeah… and that financial side of life is another area to work on. These are the resolutions that most people break by the end of January. So instead of resolutions, I just want to adjust, be more aware, more disciplined and more intentional in developing some better habits. (Crap… it’s currently 1:13 am so the sleep schedule is still a work in progress too.)

These are a few thing I personally would like to work on for 2019. I know like most resolutions, I will have good and bad days. Some moments I will succeed and some moments I will fail. As I look back at these first days of January, I realize I haven’t succeeded in any of these areas but thankfully tomorrow is a new day and His mercies are fresh every morning! (Lamentations 3:23)

And as the saying goes, I would rather try and fail than fail to try.

What would you like to resolve this year?

 

My New Year’s Eve date

A recent example of things disabled people have to constantly deal with.

Anyone else relate?

I will start on Monday.

Genius idea!

Happy 2019! Make it a good year!

Not on my Christmas List…

Christmas is just around the corner and people are making their lists for Santa. I have been fairly nice this year (with maybe a little naughty thrown in), but here are some things that did not make my Christmas list.

Fitbit

Treadmill

Running Shoes

Thigh Master

Foot Bath

Electric Foot Massager

Jump Rope

Pogo Stick

Snow Shoes/Skis

Tap Shoes

Soccer Ball

Stair Climber or Elliptical

Roller blades or Ice Skates

Skateboard

Bicycle

Ballroom Dancing Lessons

Trampoline

Butt Lifting Jeans (didn’t even know these existed)

Heated Seat Covers

Zip Lining Experience

Hiking Boots

Walking Stick

Foot Warmers

Ninja Warrior Backyard Obstacle Course

Hopscotch

Peddle Boat

And my personal favorite…

Twister

I have to be honest though… 95% of these items would not make my list even if I was not paralyzed (except for the butt lifting jeans… at my age, almost everything could use a good lift)!

Merry Christmas!

So Will I…

Recently as I was scrolling through Facebook, I saw a Christian t-shirt advertised for a Black Friday sale. The shirt said “So Will I.” Since ads are constantly popping up on social media, I continued skimming my news feed, not giving much thought to the shirt.

But the phrase “So Will I” kept coming to my mind. What did that phrase mean as far as Christianity? Obviously it meant something or a faith based company would not be selling it, right? But I could not quite figure out what it meant.

So I did whatever I do when I want answers for something I don’t understand that I see online. I googled it. As a youth group leader, I have also had to google things like HMU (hit me up), SMH (shaking my head), and to find out what a streak is on Snapchat (which by the way, back in my day streaking meant something completely different).

Apparently it is a song written by Hillsong that inspired the shirt. One line really struck me as I read the lyrics and has continued to play through my mind.

“If You gave Your life to love them, so will I.”

In January (2018), I went as a youth leader on a winter retreat to the Christian Retreat Center in East Waterford, Pennsylvania. I can truly say that weekend changed my life. I was there to lead and mentor teens, but God used that weekend to begin a transformation in me.

Jaiden (the youth leader and my now son-in-law) had the kids look at our ministry and what our purpose should be. Looking at the Greatest Commandment and the Great Commission, we narrowed down our purpose to “Love God, Love People & Make Jesus Followers.”

It seems as though the theme of 2018 for me has become to love God more and love people like Jesus.

Loving God sounds easy. I love Him… I go to church every week… I read my daily Bible verse from my app when it pops up at 10am every morning… I listen to worship music in my van when I run to Target. So I’m good on that part of the commandment, right? Wrong!

While I did love God, I had gotten apathetic and lazy in my walk with Him. I was just going through the “Christian” motions. But He wants me… my heart and my soul and my mind. He wants it all. My whole being. Even the ugly parts that I like to hide.

I have been reading and studying my Bible but also doing daily devotions with a group of believers, talking with friends about Jesus and listening to messages which has deepened my love for God. Prayer, which is just talking to God, is another way to love Him deeper, especially if you are just open, vulnerable, raw and real when you pray. Plus He knows all our crap anyway so why try to hide it?

Loving God with your entire being (heart, soul and mind) is probably impossible as selfish humans who get caught up in our lives but boy… just trying to love Him deeper and denying yourself really changes your perspective. And it makes you eager to know Him and love Him more.

As far as loving people, we are to love…

the awkward, the nerds, the disabled, the annoying, the cheaters, the bratty, the pessimistic, the promiscuous, the cocky, the prideful, the know-it-all’s, the liars, the whiners, the judgmental, the gossipers, the drunks, the drug addicted, the homeless, the wealthy, the complainers, the pretty, the ugly, the fat, the rude, the dramatic… get the picture?

We are not only called but also commanded to love them. And let’s face it… you and I may (or definitely) fit into one of those categories. If you don’t think you do, then I would start with prideful.

I love my husband. My kids. My family. My friends. Even that is sometimes exhausting but loving the people I am not naturally drawn to… that is not easy. Loving those I dislike is hard. And loving those who have hurt me (or even worse… hurt my loved ones) is almost impossible. But we are to love them anyway. And even more… love them like Jesus loves them.

Dang! I don’t always want to follow what God says quite honestly because truthfully I do not want to love certain people. A quote Jaiden recently shared in a sermon really struck me. It was a quote by Dorothy Day who said, “I really only love God as much as the person I love the least.” (Ouch!)

Why must we love them? Simply put… because Jesus does and because He tells us to do it.

He died on the cross and rose again to save me but also the sinners… oh wait… that is also me! He loves a murderer who is sitting on death row just as much as He loves me, a chubby paraplegic sitting in the pew every Sunday. In fact, the Bible is filled with stories of “sinners” (including murderers, prostitutes, adulterers, etc) who changed their lives completely after believing and following God.

No one in God’s eyes is unlovable or unusable… especially those we deem undesirable. This type of love isn’t necessarily the hand holding, hugging, best friend love, but rather love that reflects Jesus and His attributes. Like forgiving wrong doings and not holding grudges, showing understanding and not judging, being gentle and not harsh, exhibiting selflessness and not selfishness, serving rather than taking… the kind of love that isn’t natural unless you are loving God! Then His characteristics start to meld into your characteristics.

If you love God, you start to love people. As you love people, you love God deeper. It’s cyclical.

I didn’t buy the t-shirt and I didn’t download the song but the message is rooted throughout His Word and needs to be cultivated into our hearts.

“If You gave Your life to love them, so will I!”

Winter Retreat to Christian Retreat Center with Relentless Student Ministries

Matthew 22:36-40

In everything…

Several weeks ago we turned the clocks back an hour. Now it is dark before dinner. I love the cozy moments of late fall/winter. Blankets, reading a good book, watching a movie on the couch, Christmas lights, holiday activities and falling snow are some great moments of the cold season in Pennsylvania.

But with those moments also comes seasonal depression. Not getting out of the house as often, lack of sunshine because of the many gray days, bitter cold temperatures that seep into your bones, snow that is counted in feet rather than inches… seasonal depression is a real thing for me. Sometimes the snow keeps me stuck in the house for days because I cannot maneuver my chair through the drifts. That leads to loneliness and too much time alone. And as a people person and extrovert, loneliness is not my friend.

A few years ago I was so tired of having the winter blahs that I was getting on my own nerves. I was feeling so down in the dumps that I couldn’t even stand my own company. I was sad, lonely, bored, cranky, frustrated and restless. One morning I read my daily verse and it said,

“Rejoice Always, Pray without ceasing, In EVERYTHING, give thanks, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

The words IN EVERYTHING jumped out at me. I am called to give thanks when my car is broken (which was my situation most of this month); or when my wheelchair stops running (which is frequent); or when my health is bad; or when I am upset about a situation or circumstance; or even when I am just lonely and bored. I need to give thanks all of the time, not just when things are good but in everything. That’s not always easy for me. Sometimes I just want to sit alone, having a pity party and whine, pout and mope.

After reading that verse, I pulled out a notebook and decided to write down things I was thankful for because I wanted to focus on the blessings in my life. I started writing a list down every day and I found myself coming out of my funk. Amazingly when you start consciously looking for things you are grateful for, your head and your heart start to change. It isn’t as easy to be self focused when you intentionally become thankful.

With Thanksgiving being this week, we are often asked “What are you thankful for this year?” At this time of year we are quicker to share the things that make us thankful. While this is a great yearly practice, I think we need to make gratitude a constant state of mind.

We can’t always change our circumstances (I will most likely not wake up tomorrow able to walk), but we can begin to look for things in our circumstances that are good.

Depression is a very real thing and I do not want anyone to think I am saying that it isn’t. I take (and need to take) daily anti depressants to help me with my mental health. But I have found that intentionally looking for gratitude, especially in my moments of anxiety, depression and frustration really helps me refocus my mind which then transforms my heart.

With Thanksgiving tomorrow, I hope you take time to give thanks but also that you begin to daily become thankful in everything. Begin a gratitude journal and write down at least 5 things daily and watch it transform your attitude.

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A few excerpts from my journal:

I am thankful for:

Clean sheets that smell fresh like Tide

Laughing with friends until it hurts

Life chats with my sons, Zach & Alex

Worshipping God freely without fear

Target trips with my daughter, Morgan

Christmas lights that brighten up the darkness

Long phone conversations with my Mom or Jen

Craft times with my nieces

FaceTime chats with Camryn, my 4 year old niece

Homemade applesauce & the smell of apples and cinnamon

Getting my van back after weeks of it not working (thanks Steve for finding the magic place)

A power wheelchair that drives fast and doesn’t kill my arms

Sunday afternoon naps

My paralysis giving me opportunities to meet new people

Ordering pizza and not cooking dinner

Memories of Thanksgiving around my Grandma’s table

Wednesday night youth group with amazing kids & awesome teaching by Jaiden

Getting so involved in a good book that I lose track of time

It’s not always big things but little moments of thankfulness. Adopt an attitude of gratitude!

Happy Thanksgiving! Enjoy time with your family and friends sharing a yummy meal around the table! And wear your fat pants so you aren’t uncomfortable when you go for seconds! Stretchy pants should definitely make the thankful list!

Six of my biggest reasons to be thankful! ❤️