my sister's gift of grace to me on her wedding day

I am the oldest of three children and while I have siblings,  I was raised like an only child. For many reasons, I grew up alone. 

People always told me that some day my siblings would be friends. I never once had reason to believe them. It always felt like it was me and then them. 

I got married when I was 23. I was a baby. There were wedding choices I made because at 23 I didn't see any other way. I eloped & to this day, I wouldn't change it. 

My baby sister got married this past weekend and for some reason, she chose me as her maid of honor.

There are things her wedding taught me that I had no idea I would learn, grace I received that I had no idea to anticipate. 

To quote my MoH speech, my sister & I are as different as night & day. 

She is Nordstrom while I am Marshall's.

She is fresh fruit while I am a snickers bar. 

She is a bull dog and I am cat. 

But, regardless of who we are, we are sisters. 

No one as been where I have been more than she has. 

No one gets our broken, healing story like she does. 

No one has survived the wreckage with me like she has. 

When I was first married, people loved to indirectly (& directly) give credit to my husband for saving me. He was the good people saw in me. Those who had watched my life from a close distance weren't able to see how far I had had to come to choose him. The courage and strength it took me is also my sister's.  She chose someone who loves her. Ultimately, that comes down to her; she saw her own worth first.  You can't choose what's best for you, what's healthiest, without knowing you yourself are worth it & deserving. For that I am so proud of her. 

My sister had every freedom, every reason, not to choose me to be her maid of honor; nothing except blood obligated her, yet she picked me. 

Post wedding I can't help but wonder, was she afraid I wouldn't come through on my duties? Did she have any doubts with her choice?  If she had freedom, would she have picked me all over again?

Here's what I learned from watching her navigate HER beautiful wedding day, she picked me on purpose & it was her choice. 

Like I said, my sister is a bulldog in the most loyal and strong of ways. You can't tell her to do something, she does it because she wants to. Why it didn't dawn on me that picking me wasn't excluded from that is beyond me. 

My sister showed strength and determination over her wedding day that I ran from. I have a persistent inability to honor my dreams & worry about others, cater to others, self sacrifice. That all meant that MY wedding day meant I had to run. My sister? She honored her dreams, her husband's wishes, included respect of all of her parents & stayed the course. She stayed. She dealt with whining, fits, expectations, immaturity, generosity, ALL of it. It wasn't easy, and she stayed the course. 

So there came her wedding day after months of planning & navigating problems. My sister stood in the face of anxiety when expectations didn't meet reality and while she asked for space from everyone else, she invited me in.  I was the one with her in the moments leading up to her vows, standing to gather her bouquet, and scooping up her dress for bathroom runs & helping her change for her honeymoon getaway. What right did I have to experience that with my sister? Honestly? None. What my baby sister did was show me grace. She trusted me to love her, serve her, and know how to be the calm she needed. 

I've been her sister for 30 years. I can shamefully assure you May 7th was the first day I had ever served her selflessly & whole heartedly. May 7th was the first time I loved on her the way I love on those nearest & dearest to me in their times of need. 

So, Sister, thank you for showing me grace. Thank you for choosing me, trusting me, inviting me in to your moment to let me love you the way I've always wanted to, to serve you in the way you deserve a sister to serve you, to intimately witness your courage & strength, and above all, to truly be your sister.  I am so deeply proud of you. 

Oh, & just so you know, "I could never love anyone as I love my sister." -Jo March. 

high dives and puddle jumps

This is one of those posts where I feel like it could rub people the wrong way. One that puts my heart out there to potentially be cracked, but I feel it churning and when that happens, it has to come out with all of it's truth & good intention.

My son is turning three.

It's the age old tale for me of making sure everyone is included, no one is left out, and most of all my children only know love.

The tale is a twisted one with bumps and bruises from falls {high dives and puddle jumps} but it all comes down to divorce.

My parents couldn't be more opposite people, both amazing in their own right of being, but oil and vinegar always separate even IF you shake them up for a bit.

I remember when my first son was coming into the world - I worried not only about my in laws but my two sets of parents. Managing expectations and taking personal responsibility for the emotion management of others is something I can't seem to grow out of. I wear it like the five extra pounds I want to shed but can't quite commit to working off. So the burden sits there, like a noose.

Six years of grandchildren's' birthdays later, I still become achingly aware of the crevice of pain that IS my family. Not my husband's or my children's', but my past that always comes knocking. While I have learned to navigate through it, there is still a five year old girl in me who never gets used to watching her mommy & daddy hate each other.

Most of my life, I've lived near with or near my mom.

31 years of it actually.

For one year, I've lived near my dad.

Growing our friendship, sharing the ins and outs of the little things vs. one week a year relational saturation.

Now my mom is the visitor, the the home field belongs to my dad.

I am the field manager.

I am acutely aware of the precautions that need to be established, the traffic signs that need to be put up to avoid any encounter pre-game.

This year, there isn't a pre-game...no party, no birth for anyone to be forced to co-mingle at the center of the field for; there's just a one sided coin toss:

mom wins one week.

see you in a bit, dad.

The pink elephant in the room LOOMS there.

We all pretend fifteen miles away is one thousand, that every day grandparent roles haven't switched, and a state line doesn't divide us.

I am five on the inside, thirty-two on the outside.

I am a mom who desperately wants my children to be protected from the bad relationships that DO exist in their extended family.

I am the mom who struggles to answer their questions: 

"Who's your mommy & who's your Daddy, mommy?"

I am the daughter who probably won't ever reconcile the pain it causes me but I will continually unload the burden on Jesus to show me how to love like a grown woman, not a hurt child.

My son is turning three.

Separate celebrations will happen because it's best for everyone involved;

But wouldn't it be amazing IF we could all lay the burden down and BE love for that little boy in one place, at one time, all together?

It would.

I'm God's Toddler

Writer's block is one way of putting my thought process into a phrase.
It's been MORE than what I can't get to come out of my fingers though, it's been what I can't get my heart to retain, my ears to hear & my will to obey. I have been utterly...defiant.

It's been quite a year. 2012 was ushered in with high hopes like most years are (no one starts them thinking, "I'm so excited for how much this is going to suck!") The months before it had their challenges but I was facing them, tackling them--I was down right conquering them! With a nearly-four year old & my 4 month old, I was facing getting healthy--emotionally, mentally, spiritually healthy. God was holding me & I was gripping him--He was my crutch and my guide through this place I was utterly and desperately alone in. That label "post partum depression" was a temporary tattoo on my wrist--I wouldn't allow it to be permanent. I would quite literally, survive it. I would very physically fight it. I would with every ounce of my core, I would emotionally face it.

10 months have come and gone & I hear whispers of God's voice now. I'm pretty sure what happened is what I tend to let happen--I ached for Him & needed Him and there He was, loving me loudly! He had me in his grasp and I wasn't going to let go...but then I got my feet on the ground. I saw myself in the mirror and I for the first time in my life could say, "I see myself! I'm strong! I did it! I am healthy!" I was PROUD of me (am proud of me!). In those moments, I slowly distanced myself from my NEED for him. I wasn't desperate anymore so I gave Him a hug and backed off a bit. He became a distant relative that I love, enjoy being with, but don't pursue daily...weekly...monthly...

Lay off...emergency appendectomy...another lay off...death...melanoma... the hits were coming now but I wasn't on my knees, I wasn't angry or yelling at God, I was just numb. I wasn't feeling like I had to survive & I stopped chasing Him. I could hear my heart saying, "go to Him" but then I'd tune out--I was resisting with excuses: I'm too busy. I'm too tired. If I had just an hour alone each day... The more I resisted & excused myself from the table with Him, the quieter He got & the louder the world got. The trivial things that are just a part of life became another check on the list of issues but I just wouldn't go to Him.

Why? Inside me I was letting lies mull & the scent filled my soul with a tale that I did not deserve His saving...again. I could hear my thoughts blister with failure as His daughter, feel the ache that I only went to Him in need, and the guilt that I was only here to burden Him. Last night, as I called out to my son to listen to me (for the third time!) I felt frustrated, "Why is my child choosing to ignore me?" but within minutes, I was kissing my child on his perfect nose and filling with awe because I love my son. In that flash, I felt it--that striking, stunning reminder, "I love you, daughter, even more than you love your own son!"

The numbness, resistance, & excuses are slowly subsiding. In one still, small moment His voice that hasn't stopped speaking broke through my avoidance: He loves me even when I ignore Him. He adores me even when I misbehave. I cherishes me even when He watches me making mistakes.

I need Him.

4 Year Anniversary

Four years ago today, I got married.

It may not have been how most people would do it, it may have been a little crazy, but over the past four years I have grown to appreciate how we did it because at the time, it was the only wayMy husband and I dated for 4 months when he proposed.
1 month later we eloped.From the moment we announced our engagement, the excitement and anxiety of those around us rose.
Our impending nuptials seemed to rob me of my voice and give control to everyone else.
There were choices I didn't want to make like who would walk me down the aisle.
There were choices I did want to make, like where my wedding would be, but was told not to.
There were things I wanted to do, like abandon the tradition of bridesmaids, but that decision was made for me.
It ended up being about everyone else and nothing to do with us.

So, one night while hanging out with our friends, I decided we should drive to Vegas.
I gave my reasons and my fiance thought about them.
"When I asked you to marry me, I was ready that day."
So, after making one promise at his request,
"We just can't tell my mom"
We hopped in the car and drove through the night.

We stopped at a gas station and I found him a ring.
I tried it on his finger as he slept and twelve dollars later we were that much closer to OUR moment.

We arrived in the early morning, found an available hotel, and swatted at butterflies the rest of the day.

That evening, in simple clothes, we headed to the chapel.
With one minor panic attack that took us back to the hotel to re-think the elopement (that was all me)
we made it to the chapel to say our vows.(no joke, this was where we were married)

Despite the horrific tackiness, the video they gave us after we wouldn't budge on buying one committed to having zero proof, the dripping fountain, and our ceremony of choice: Christian (as opposed to Elvis and the like)
we said I DO.

The husband and I went on for two months not living in the same home and playing up our charade.
Eventually, two months before our planned formal ceremony, we were forced to speak up and admit our marriage.

Our families were furious and hurt.
Again, my moment was taken from me and defined by someone else--because I let them.

Today, I am so PROUD we made a decision for us.
I to this day, believe that we made the decision that was best for us and where we were then.
I wouldn't do it differently now but I wish the circumstance had been different.
If we had a wedding today, it would be everything we discussed.
We have decided though that we will have a 25th anniversary that will be what it "should have been" in the beginning.
So, October 8 is our Elopement/Vegas Anniversary and yes, we still went through with our formal ceremony on it's intended date, February 25...it just looked a little different then it would have.

It's been a crazy 4 years.
Lots of moves, new jobs, chasing dreams, and one baby later
we are here to stay!
Happy Anniversary, Love!
You have loved me whole.

these photos were inspiration for our original plans
click on images for their site

SCREAM to be FREE

As the tears pooled in my eyes and my chest burned with rage, I was faced with this familiar and strange pain again.

This blog was conceived in a moment of recognition that I could do something great for me and it was born from a moment of force.

All I have ever had are words. In the moments of my youth when all I could think about was ways to leave this life, I could bring a new pencil to a stub. In the moments when I needed to celebrate or deflate the anger, I could find paper. It was stripped from me once half a lifetime ago and again only weeks ago. My old space, christanandallegra, swelled with bitterness. I found passive aggressive ways to break the injury down, and I decided that was not who I want to be. I made the choice to move forward, to better myself, to reclaim what had attempted to be robbed from me. I chose to return myself back to me and here I fell.
I am in the thick of something awkward, something foreign, something I am being told to wait in and work it out within. I'm battling this desire to SCREAM obscenities at those I feel robbed me. I am in a war with Goliath and determined to be David.

This morning my husband and I had a misunderstanding. I moved to make my old blog private, I moved without asking him. I was conflicted and confused as to why he would care. I was able to step back and see the by not communicating with him, I was leaving him without a shield for the inevitable battle. He would receive a call that would question why I had closed the door, why I had shut family out and he would have no idea what they were talking about. While I boiled with rage, he was able to tell me, "I want to know whats going on so these things are our decisions. When we aren't on the same page, that's when family sees us as divided and gives them room to exaggerate their imagination."

He was right. It just didn't take my anger away. WHY had I done this to my husband. WHY had my freedom, my expression become a tool to torment him? WHY had I let them make me run?

But I am standing and I am walking through this awkward fire in a new home. I want to run but I am being told to Be Still. I am having all sorts of ugliness thrown in my face to weaken me, to defeat me but I am fighting for stillness and being forced to depend on His protection. I am being taught to appropriately protect, appropriately harden my heart and my self.
I know I have complained a lot this week about being a mom, but as I choke up right now, I have to tell you, in releasing it freely I have held my son and talked to him and loved him with so much freedom. I've felt FREE to love him. He isn't this mirror of my imperfection, he is this vision of the best of me. Without being totally free to cry it out on my mountaintop here, I would be bogged down with this defeat that has nothing to do with him and everything to do with me. My freedom here has given me back pure love and reckless abandon to smother my son with a mother who is released of burden.

Do I thank those that ran me off? Internally. Do I continue on in hiding? For now. I hate the heartache of this indescribably lonely and painful walk but the truth is, He is so present for me right now because I have been pushed into Him. I run to him and fall in His arms and He just picks me up when I am broken and allow myself to hear him. I don't listen or try as hard to be with Him when I am ok.
So I fall here. I admit that this moment is so unbelievably miserable, but I commit to fight for the heart He wants me to have. I am broken but becoming so FREE!
all images here

Thank You...

If you had asked me when I was 16 what life would look like 10 years later, it would not have looked like this.At sixteen I had decided my life was destined for solitude. In my optimistic phase, it would include a gorgeous white home with wood floors on a sandy shore with sea grass. It included a highly paid executive job at a multi national corporation, a white cat, and a white BMW 325i. (I was no slouch on details.) In the end though, it would include no one but me. During my more jaded phase, my life would be lived out on Kangaroo Island in Australia where I would live alone in a rickety shack with lots of cats and a man trap. I'd be the crazy lady that kids would fear walking home from school. I'd be the house that the post man didn't return from because instead of a garden, there would be a camouflaged hole that would give out if any man stepped on it.

Those were the two scenarios. While one seemed to be slightly more Pottery Barn pleasant than the other, both shared the solitude factor. It might not have been what I really wanted, but it is what I thought would work best for me.

Well, life didn't happen like I had schemed. Actually, not one of any of those specific details panned out...well, I do have a Pottery Barn coffee table so I guess some things did happen!

Point is, I'm 27. I live in a little yellow house on a busy, busy street with my husband, my son, and my- you got it- cat. We swim in student loan debt, we share a tiny bathroom, and wash the dishes by hand. I'm not a highly paid executive, I don't drive a white BMW, and I never built a man trap. As the story goes, first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage. That was definitely not part of any plan. The husband part is great but I struggle with the mom part.There must be, at the root of who we are, a piece that knows what we are made for and what we are not. I have always loved babies. I mean, from the time I was a toddler, I loved pinching babies. (I don't do this anymore). I grew up swearing I would not have kids and in the back of my mind, wanting them. I wanted to avoid creating a person who I could hurt, who I could mess up, who could blame me later for all I didn't do. But here I am, a mom of one and a second is frequently discussed...and shot down....and re-discussed. There is not a single day that passes that I don't think, "I don't want to change that diaper! I hate cutting his finger nails! What do I do with him?" He is work. 24/7 work. I love him so much and at the same time, I can't handle him!

My strengths in mothering come down to dreaming and preparing and planning. We opened up a savings account for him from the day we received is social security number. My son will go to college and he will not have student loan debt. We will be able to help him put a down payment on a home. We will enroll him in summer camps that nurture his passions. We will show him the world and encourage his dreams. I already prepare for his wedding. I think of how important it will be for me to teach him about women and how important it will be for his dad to teach him how to be a gentleman. I pray for his wife and the protection of his heart when he enters into the world of dating and abrasive girls. I clothe him, I make his lunch, I fret over which daycare to put him and choose one that is more like a school because I already see his potential. Those are the things I am good at. I am not good at the chores of mothering. It makes me wonder--should I even be a mom? Is two something I should even think about?

What happens when your plans don't pan out? It seems my reality is infinitely better than any of my plans for solitude could have ever been. Those plans were made in fear. My reality came to be out of hope and love. But there are moments, moments like last night, when I am in the middle of an emotional blizzard and it all freezes up. I have my husband beside me to keep me warm and yet I am indescribably cold and feel so alone. Not a soul to understand what mothering is like. Not a friend to comprehend what our life is like. Not one person reaching out to say, "I get it," just a lot of realizing no one asked us to join and it's all too much to be a part of anyway.So I come here. I vent. I breathe. I release and I hear that I'm not as crazy as I feel. I read about Mom's who love their kids passionately and in a way I want to emulate. I learn that the chores of mothering really do stink. I just feel...safe...here...with you. Thank you for being my friend in this friendless phase of my journey. As I pave the road with my husband as the sole child bearing young lady, I would be lost without the women in my sacred space that tell me I'm going to make it.

Life's Healing Choices

My husband and I once lived in Orange County and attended Saddleback Church.

When I found out I was pregnant (SURPRISE!) we made the decision to move back home.
We packed up our bags, transferred jobs, and left our new life, our extended family, and our church.
Moving home has been a series of unexpecteds
and, as I grew up being reminded:
expectations minus reality equals disappointment.
We tried returning to the church we met at but it just doesn't fit us in the same way anymore.

We tried a church last weekend and it was all wrong for me.
I'm not the person who likes a small church so when we walk in and the pastor is calling out names of those in the close congregation and putting them on the spot,
my uncomfortable-o-meter shot up.
While the pastor talked about the importance of relationship and how it's not okay to slip in and slip out on Sunday I thought,
"I LIKE slipping in and out! I don't WANT to be put on the spot during a sermon that has no beginning and no end."
(I know, this isn't entirely healthy but whatever, growth edge!)
Point is,
We really MISS Saddleback.

Saddleback was too big for me initially but despite it's grandiose size,
I am challenged in ways that aren't too totally terrifying to me.
Pastor Rick Warren has a way of speaking from his heart that strikes mine constantly.
Today, we got online and went to church from bed.
It felt good....
good to be back "home" and well, good to go to church in bed ;)

Today's sermon was the 1st in an 8 part series called:
Life's Healing Choices: Freedom from your Hurts, Hang-Ups, and Habits.
The message struck me in BIG ways--some encouraging and some calling me out on my &*$#.
For example, this one:
"What is the common denominator in all of your bad relationships? Answer: You!"
Right when I had my instant list of bad relationships: sister, brother, mother-in-law, I was given an answer that made me look at myself.
An answer that won't allow me to continue to blame them for hurting me.
Poo buckets.
But it's true.

Pastor Rick pointed out how most people subscribe to fixing themselves vs. allowing God to do it (GUILTY!)
There is stuff in me that I loathe:
I am quick to anger
I am in the shallow end of patience
I flail in the deep end of insecurity.
If I truly believe that my savior was Raised from the Dead (and I do)
the truth is, "He can raise a dead career. He can raise a dead relationship. He can raise my brokenness,"
but here I am, playing God in my life.
A great line I heard from the church we tried and I didn't like was this:
"The difference between me and God is that God never gets confused and thinks He's me."
hahaha

I am stuck.

Åfter I sat and wrote my heart out last night about how much I hurt over my relationships with my brother and sister, I am called to look within:
I am called to admit that I am broken (I am!)
To admit that my secrets make me sick (Hiding from my past hurts!)
I must admit it to defeat it. (HOW!?!?!)

ewwwwwwww.
I don't like any of this.
At all!
But here I am, once again, repeating: I am broken.
I am struggling with the idea of TOTAL Surrender, not just the parts I want to surrender.
I don't know if I can do this...
but I'll try because looking up is so much better than looking within!

Keys, Please?

Women as creatures are both friends and competition. Women as mother’s and wives? The same yet enhanced. As wives we fight for our husbands to break free from their mother’s talons, we ask them to choose us-put us first. As mother's we know their future does not include us being their number one, but how does the mother in us let go? As wives, we begin the sculpting process of our own family and at times, must play tug of war with the women who have defined their lives by their mothering us. No mother wants to let go, but we all must.

In the beginning there is the desire to be part of the “in crowd.” Being the new girl/guy at school, you play nice; you want to be liked, you want to be accepted. Soon, you’re “in” and the quest to be to be known and recongnized is yours. You spend a few years in a power struggle if you're all strong enough, each of you fighting for something different but desiring a similar end. At the root of our being as women is loyalty to those that are in our pack but to those who threaten the unity and the solidarity of that pack? Prepare for battle.

Perhaps we need a big meeting with coffee and gluten enhanced pastries and the opportunity to say, “My name is Allegra and I am the wife and mother of my family,” or “My name is Carol and I am a mom-aholic.” We need an opportunity to collaborate on how to work together as a team or simply hand off power. An analogy? Hm...here's one- As a mother, you build a house, you live in it, and then you sell it. Please, think back freely on the good times you had with that house, but you have to give the new owner the keys. You don’t drive up to that house every day anymore because it’s not yours, you can’t decorate it as you wish, you can’t tear down walls as you choose, you must knock every time and wait to be invited in. You must learn to love your own home and let the old home be enjoyed by someone new.

Indeed, I am a mother in my youth nowhere near handing my keys off to the next owner, but I do pray about the next owner and I know the hand off is just around the corner. Yes, I’m sure, one day I will understand exactly what I’m talking about and eat my words like they’re raw chicken, but you don't have to tell me that. At some point, if the transition is a tough one as I know many are, we are challenged to say, "Your old house is my new house. Thank you for the love and care you have put into it, but will you kindly give me the keys now?"

Marriage or Motherhood?

I stumbled across a blog the other day that has had me thinking ever since. The entry was centered around the question, "Is being a wife or a mother harder?" The writer expressed her opinion that marriage was harder. She exposed her truth and it saddened me as she expressed that marriage is something she feels she can walk away from a while children are not a being that you can divorce.

I have been reeling in the brief moments of silence I have over her answer and over what my answer would be. My answer goes something like this...

Marriage is work. There are days that it is easier to wear than others. Marriage can feel like the confidence of wearing a new shirt or it can resemble a freshly washed pair of jeans that one can't squeeze themselves into some days. On the "tight jeans" days thought it just means I have to work a little bit harder--I have to stretch the pants out until they loosen a little, make them fit the way they did before putting them through the washer. At the end of the day though, when I've put in the work to wear them in again though, they feel good, comfortable, and irreplaceable. In the grand scheme of things, a good pair of jeans is just as good as a brand new shirt.

I realize I am comparing the most sacred union between man and woman to clothes but I can't quite find another way to say what I am feeling. If marriage were easy, we wouldn't see so much failure. If marriage were easy, counselors would be out of jobs. If marriage were easy, making light of the disagreement the night before with your friends wouldn't be as funny.

For me- marriage is easier than motherhood if we're creating the notion that these two roles are jobs.

I ultimately chose to be married. Christan dropped down to one knee and held out a diamond ring and asked me, "Will you marry me?" and I said "Yes." I said yes to the days we'd look at each other with the eyes of new lovers and to the days where we'd wonder if our emotional bank account would make it. I say yes to him and to us every single day. In marriage, I have a partner and a friend who tackles the have-to's with me. I have a friend who knows me better than I do. I have a friend who holds my hand when we are walking freely from worldly stresses and when the going gets tough. In marriage I have a true love and an eternal friend.

In motherhood, I have a being who is in constant need of me. Sometimes the sheer weight of motherhood feels like it could break me. The voices of women who have all of the answers, the lives of women who have different arrangements, the pressures to prepare and to be everything at every moment. I can hold my son and be both in awe and exhaustion simultaneously. If anything, motherhood makes marriage harder. Now I have two people who need me with one significant difference: one is independent the other is entirely dependent. Mothering within marriage calls for an extra cup of alertness--to be alert enough that I don't put my child above my husband for according to what I believe, it is God first, Husband second, and Son third (however, that priority list often gets skewed.) It's easy though to forget the independent person in my life and focus on the dependent one who cries or giggles with all that he is at any given moment.

In the end, I realize that any one could look at me and tell me what I'm doing wrong or how I need to be more grateful but what they don't know is how grateful I am. I am grateful beyond words for the life I have, for all that I have been given and do not deserve. In my humanity, however, I struggle. I struggle with who I am, who I am not, and who I want to be. Motherhood and marriage are amazing blessings and like anything in life, they have their trying moments.

Ouch, that hurt a bit!

I got something in the mail yesterday. It's something that has left a little pin prick in my heart. You can all correct me if I am overreacting.
It seems that two things in life bring about great amounts of advice. The first is when you get engaged and are planning to be married and the second is when you decide to become parents. Advice is everywhere. Unless you have a strong filter, or develop one, the advice that sounds a lot like "have to's" will drown you.
I remember at Christmas in 2007 I was six months pregnant and we had just moved back to the central coast four weeks before. There we were in our economical Toyota Echo on my extended family's property that makes an Echo look like a Tonka toy. As I was uncomfortably crawling into the passenger seat, I received advice..."You really should buy a house. A baby can't live in an apartment." My heart hurt. I knew the person saying it was saying it out of a place of wanting that for us but what I realized, sadly, was he had NO idea how much we WANTED that, how hard we were both TRYING for that. It popped a little piece of me and deflated it. All I could do was stare at my bulging belly and think, "I am trying. I want to give you the world, sweet baby. I want to give you the world!"
Since Ashton came into our life, Christan and I have been working SO hard to figure out HOW to break free from the rat race. How do WE achieve our dreams? Two months after Ashton was born, Christan started our LLC, ChristanP Photography. We were sprinting for freedom. It has been a slow process that on good days is more than a natural high and on others, leaves discouragement and a heavy heart. We have invested HOURS of thought into HOW to provide for our son, HOW to free me up from working so I can RAISE our son and run our business from home instead. We decided that if we sacrifice now, we will have a pay off later. The sacrifice has been Christan and I both having two full time jobs. He designs websites and comes home to edit photos and I work and then come home to care for our son and run the home.
Yesterday I received a book. I received, "In Praise of Stay At Home Mom's" by Dr. Laura Schlessinger. It came with a note. The note said, "Points to ponder." While it may be a great book and I applaud its message (Stay at home mom's have a VERY hard job) I felt invisible and overlooked. Does the sender genuinely NOT see what we are doing, what we are sacrificing, how we are TRYING? So now I say, "I cast out this message that hurts my heart!" While the intention may be good, it seemed insensitive and misinformed. It hurt.
This is a description of the book:

They number in the millions and they are incredibly important to families and to our society, yet they are under appreciated, little respected, and even controversial.

Who are they?

They are the stay-at-home moms.

These are women who know in their hearts that staying home to raise their children is the right choice for the whole family. Some do it from the outset of their marriages, while others make the difficult transition from career-driven women to homemakers. Either way, it is a choice that is incredibly rich and rewarding, not to mention challenging.

Now Dr. Laura, building on principles developed during her long career as a licensed marriage and family therapist, provides a wealth of advice and support, as well as compassion and inspiration, to women as they navigate the wonders and struggles of being stay-at-home moms.

Learn how:

• to hold your head high and deal with naysayers;
• to see the benefits of being home not only for your children but also for your marriage;
• to understand the changes you see in yourself;
• to realize that the sacrifices you endure now will make for lasting bonds and a stronger family, in addition to a more cohesive community.

In Praise of Stay-at-Home Moms is a special book, a profound and unique understanding of how important it is for mothers to raise their own children.

I'm sure you can pick out the points that would hurt my heart-- like "how important it is for mothers to raise their own children." I wanted to scream IF YOU THINK I DON'T WANT TO BE THE ONE WATCHING MY SON GROW UP, YOU ARE SERIOUSLY MISTAKEN!!

But I step back and I look at the big picture: I have a wonderful son, I have an amazing AMAZING husband who is busting his BUTT to make our dream reality, and I am a great mom! I am. It has taken me 11 months to accept and KNOW that but even if I work, I come home and get to be a great mom.

I am a great mom even if I work.

CrAzY

Oh my gosh, I'm crazy!

That must be it- I'm crazy.
Why am I cussing in my head and have a crazy desire to punch someone?
What is WRONG with me?!
Where's my calendar?
Ohhhh...of course.
I pull my hand from my pocket and reach out to shake the hand of my old friend,
"Hey, Hormones. So, it looks like we've got a few days together. Just so we're clear-I hate you!"
You're lame, Ovulation!
I guess my friend is right, "Knowing is half the battle."

Dear Husband:
You know yesterday when I was a cranky ______? I'm really sorry about that. I mean, I know I was tired but as it turns out, your favorite version of me is going to be around for a few days. Good news is, I'm still working like clock work SO when I do get on board with that 2nd kid concept, all will probably go as planned. Too bad having the kid(s) you love so much means having this Devil Wears Sale Items version of me around so much, eh?
Sorry. Really. I can't say it's worse being me than you but if you consider all inclusive self loathing (you know the: I'm fat, I am a bad mom, I hate our dirty house, I want new clothes, I want a vacation, I will never be good enough, everyone has it better than poor old healthy, blessed me....) worse, then I win, unlike when we play connect four. (You always win that game!) The good me will be back just in time to leave you alone with Ash for 4 days.
Wife of the year, right? I know. I owe you a boys weekend. Plan it before evil me comes back.
TOO LATE.
Gah, she's really a pain in the *$#.
NO matter what the crazy me says, dear, I love you and truly, I'm so sorry about her.
She really is awful!

A Momma's Vow

I remember the first three months of being a mom.

Wow.
Those were emotional and exhausting.
All I wanted was for my baby to grow up.
Now I look at him and all I want is for him to stay small.Perhaps it's true, the grass is always greener, but daily I work on sitting on the green hill that's been given to be and enjoying the view.

I admit, it's 93% great.
The other 7% that is the good but not great really comes down to me.
The other 7% has to do with maintaining the "me" that I refuse to lose and believe that this refusal is Ok.
I really do love being my son's mom but I see what losing yourself in anything can do, let alone a child.
I refuse to let my son be 110% of who I am.
I refuse to lose the "me"-ness for eighteen years only to leave me empty when he leaves.
I refuse to leave him with the burden of fulfilling me so I aim to fulfill myself in the other things I love: the Lord, my husband, my hobbies, my friends...ME.I know there are Mom's out there who are laughing at me and thinking,
"Oh honey, it's unavoidable. They change your life forever!"
My son has more than changed my life.
He's changed how I love, how I learn, who I want to be, and exposes the worst of me--the things I want to make better. He IS a life change but I never want him to be what defines me.

I know that one day he'll get married--and I swear to be a wonderful Mother In Law!
I know one day he won't come home for Christmas--and I swear I'll be okay with it!
I know one day he will have his own traditions--and I swear I'll be happy for him!
I swear these things but I realize people change.
I should say I desperately WANT these things!

Oh me, oh my!
I think about these things ALL the time!
I talk about these things once a day with my husband.
We plan for his future in ways that are so FULL of hope and love and life.
We sacrifice now for his future benefit.
We build what we do in our present so later it will be his gift.

All of the things I desire for him come from a place I have never known before.
In my heart of hearts, I always knew that having a child would make me understand God's love for me in a whole new light.
I can only imagine what treasures and what dreams He has in store for me.
How amazing that it's even more than what I want for my own son!
How unfathomable that He loves my son even more than I could.

Selfishness & Sacrifice

How often have I complained of the moments I miss with my son because I work?

No need to answer--I know--too often to count.
Today I sacrificed tardiness to hold my boy.
Today I wanted to be his mom--to change him, dress him, feed him, hold him. I wanted to cure the tears and the purple face as he gasped for air at the thought I'd leave him alone in his crib again.
I folded him in my arms and I sat in his rocking chair not caring if I'd get in trouble or if I had to call in and say, "I'll be late." I have a job, I have responsibilities but in this moment, my son was my priority.
I want every day to be the day I wake him, dress him, hold him.
I wait to pack up the "old life" anxiously.Have I told you of my husband's sacrifice?
Relentlessly studying and searching for new ways to free us, he smiles through it.
He started a business--one we were partners in until I threw my hands up saying,
"It's too much!"We have prayed for success--prayed for photography to become full time.
Now, as his schedule thickens it's my turn to sacrifice and my selfishness stands in the way.
I sacrifice my time with him.
I sacrifice my sanity when Ashton and I want him home at night.
Selfish.
I am not sacrificing anything.
I tell him, "When you work 2 full time jobs, I am working two full time jobs."
Selfish.
I have said it before
We sacrifice now so we receive the pay off later.
Now is when those words are being tested.

In one breath, IPRAISE the Lord that Christan is now booked with only one free weekend in August--the only free weekend until mid-October. In the other breath, I wallow in self pity as I realize that I lose time.
Selfish.
This mission--this dedication my husband has is unreal.
His goal: One of us WILL be a full time parent!
One of us will be home full time.
I don't care which of us it is--I just want our little boy with us.
I am learning to develop encouragement vs. discouragement.
My sad words of, "I miss you. I want our time," will hurt him.
He wants those things as much as I do. It's WHY he's doing this!It makes me selfish with the free time we DO have.
NO-I don't want to spend that time with other obligations!
NO-"You" are not allowed to make us feel guilty because we can't be everywhere!
NO-NO-NO
This is about us.
Selfish?
Not to me.

Selfishness & Sacrifice
Freedom the ultimate goal.

Love,
You know I miss you when you are gone.
You know I want you here with me.
You NEED to know how much I THANK YOU for your selfless sacrifice.
You NEED to know that I promise to work on my selfishness.
I'm SO Proud of what you are accomplishing in the name of Our P Pod :)I wait for OUR days.
In love,
Me

{images from fabbrunette}