Hi! I'm Lindsay. I'm not sure about you, but I generally like to see the person who is talking to me or writing to me. So, this is a picture of me. I hold a lot of positions in life (like wife, mother, daughter, friend), but at the core of it all, I'm just me. Thanks for stopping by! I hope you stay. Enjoy!
Okay, I really wanted to include a YouTube video of Bobby Brown singing, "My Prerogative", but I couldn't find one that didn't make me cringe. LOL! Anyway, can you guess which Skribit I'm going to write about this time? :)
Five Things About Which I Have Changed My Mind Over the Years
I can't decide whether to do serious things or funny things. I suppose I'll do a little of both, since I'm not sure that I've changed my mind about five big things. (Seriously, I really am that boring...)
1. I used to think I would get addicted to being pregnant and having babies. I was afraid that I would have a really hard time stopping with two biological children. (I have always wanted to stop at two biological children, so we'd have plenty of room in our family for foster children and/or adopted children. However, I enjoyed Ruby's pregnancy so much that I thought I would get addicted to having a life growing in my tummy.) Now, I am sure that I am finished, and I am pretty sure I will not be tempted to get pregnant again. This (premature rupture of membranes) is not fair to me, my family, my friends, or my babies. I can't wait to move onto adoption.
I guess that's actually another thing I've changed my mind about over the years, but I'll link it with this one. :) I used to think I would have six biological children and six adopted children (one child from each inhabited continent). Now, I tend to find myself judging Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt. (Of course, that could have something to do with the fact that their union is based on the complete and utter destruction of the vows he made to his first partner in life.) I think we will be finished with six children at the most...perhaps only four. It depends on a lot of things...like how many medical needs Burke or other future children have and what God leads me to do (professionally) after Burke is born.
2. I used to think I talked too much. Now, I do have a problem censoring myself. I tend to speak the truth too harshly sometimes, and there's never an excuse for that. However, I am coming to believe, more and more, that God made me this way for a reason. I used to really fret over the fact that I didn't resemble the quiet, gentle woman of Proverbs 31. I have always been pretty strong and fairly independent. I've never had a problem speaking my mind or trying to get my way. I used to think that meant there was something wrong with me. I don't think that anymore. I'm starting to think that, maybe, just maybe, I was even made like this for a very specific reason. I'm starting to see a lot of the things that I have viewed as weaknesses for a long time as true strengths. They need a lot of refining and maturing, but that doesn't mean they are bad traits.
3. I used to think I would be a majorly successful business woman. I used to think I would be a full-time stay at home mom. I used to think I would be in ministry. Now, I'm not really sure what I'm going to be when I grow up. :) I'm just along for the ride, but I'm very excited about my future.
4. I used to think I would never own a brand-new car. (Buying used is usually a smarter option, financially.) Now, I'm in love with the new body style of the Dodge Grand Caravan. Thankfully, it's Mike's turn for a new car first, so there may be some used DGC's by the time I'm in the market for a "new to me" car. Not only that, but my dad just might shoot me (or refuse to fix my car), if I purchase a Dodge. :) I might just have to settle for a Honda Odyssey. LOL! In my dreams!
5. I used to hate cats. Oh wait...that hasn't changed one iota... :) Ever since I saw those stuck-up pricks of beings in "The Lady and the Tramp", I have not been a fan of that species.
Alright, seriously, that's the best I can come up with. Call me stubborn, but the vast majority of my big beliefs have stayed pretty darn consistent over the years, even in the face of adversity and challenge... If you wanna know my thoughts a particular subject, you can always use the contact link up top or suggest a blog topic!! :)
Love to you all,
Did you ever write, pass, or receive a note like that in school? A small piece of paper with a simple question scribbled across the middle and two boxes, labeled "Yes" and "No", underneath? I know that many similar notes were exchanged by my classmates. However, I'm pretty sure I never actually wrote, passed, or received a note like that during my school years. It certainly wasn't because I was so secure that I didn't need to know, though. It was more probably because I was so terrified of receiving all the pieces of paper back with multiple "no" boxes filled in.
I have got to be one of the worst people on the face of the planet to try to answer the question of comparison. Let me refer you to my post on my biggest fears...one of which was the fear of rejection. When it comes to comparing myself to others and worrying about what other people think of me, I am as hopeless as the next person. I have found only one frame of mind that helps me with this. I don't do a very good job of staying in this mindset. However, when I do, I don't struggle with comparison or acceptance or judgment near as much.
Here is the mindset:
God has said that he created me for a reason and a purpose. He has said that he loves me, and he's willing to help me fulfill that reason and purpose. He has promised that he has good plans for me, beyond even what I can dream or imagine. He has told me that I have value, and he has even sacrificed something that was incredibly precious to him, so that I could have a relationship with him. God thinks I'm worth something.
The truth is that no one else in the world is like me. I am the one and only me, which means that no one can be me better than me. Therefore, the only things I can judge myself against are the person I was yesterday and the person I will be tomorrow. I want to be better than the girl I was yesterday. And, tomorrow, I want to be better than I was today.
Each day, that will bring a new challenge to my plate. This week, I have been fighting off feelings of frustration and self-pity. I was not a better me this week than I was last week. I'm disappointed in myself. I even started thinking about all the other women who have been on extended bedrest (much more extended than seven weeks) and how much better they must have handled themselves. However, that was the totally wrong outlook. It doesn't matter how well or not well anyone else has handled bedrest. For me, it only matters how I am going to handle bedrest. I won't let this past week of disappointment get me down and discouraged. It just means I've got some work to do. :) And that gives me encouragement, because I know that I have control over the way I choose to act. I cannot change my circumstance. I cannot change the people around me. I cannot divine the future. But I can choose to be a better me, and I can choose to act in a way that is more pleasing to God and more helpful and encouraging to others.
So, I compare my Today Self to my Yesterday Self. Is my Today Self pleasing God more? Is my Today Self helping more people? Is my Today Self being less selfish? Is my Today Self showing more love? Is my Today Self being more patient? Is my Today Self improving on a weakness?
If the answer is yes, then I am golden. :) No need to compare myself to anyone else's self, because I already know that I'm improving...and that's all that can be expected of me...to continue to improve. And if I really can't find an area to improve on, then I just need to go read a few more descriptions of the woman God wants me to be, eventually. That will give me a great place to start.
If the answer is no, then I am also golden. :) No need to compare myself to anyone else's self, because I've already got enough to start working on. Why would I need to add more to a plate that's already full?
You see, we can improve everyday. There is no person on this planet who is so good that they have no room for improvement. So...if we focus on our own selves and improving ourselves, then we shouldn't need to focus on other people and how "improved" they are or how much farther down the road they've gotten. And we really shouldn't worry about what they think. If we're getting better each day, even just a little bit better, then that's what matters.
I'm not talking about a bunch of new-Age-look-inside-yourself sort of mumbo jumbo. When I look too deeply inside myself, I get really depressed at how much work is left to be done. I'm just saying to look at ourselves and realize what God has said about us and believe it.
Because God says that you have value, too. All those things he's said about me? He's said them about you, too. He has a purpose for you. You are here for a reason. He cares about you, and he has made a sacrifice for you, too. You just have to make a choice to accept it. I've said this to many people, and I'll say it to many more:
I cannot promise that living a life for God will always be easy or pleasant. However, I can absolutely positively promise that it will always be worth it. Always.
My mom thinks that people who talk about their feelings are healthier. I probably agree from an unbiased perspective. However, right now I'd really rather just stuff my feelings down a really long tube and make sure they never come back again. The last thing I want to do is talk about them. Actually, that's the second to last thing I want to do. The actual last thing I want to do is hear people's thoughts about my feelings. I hope that doesn't sound too terribly selfish and bad.
I told you in the blog design post that my life can get messy. (Reference the paint splatters in the banner.) I suppose this is a paint splatter post. Some of what I'm going to say probably won't be very pretty. However, I can promise that it's honest. And I think honesty is always the best policy. Sometimes, honesty needs to be wrapped in several layers of love, but it's always best.
With that said, I don't think it's very fair of me to say that I want to get to know you all and take a journey with you if I don't disclose a lot about myself. Some people don't like full-disclosure. I, however, prefer to have it all out on the table. I doubt myself all too much to worry that people are hiding things from me. (More on this when I finally get the courage to put up a post about comparing ourselves to others.) I much prefer to know everything: messy and pretty. If I expect it, then I should give it, huh?
So, here it goes: My Current Paint Splatters
I don't know whether to put my disclaimer first or last. I suppose I'll put it last, so that it'll be the last thing you read. :) I'm a bigger believer in redemption than in justification. Therefore, I'll tell you all the yucky, and you can hate me for it. Then, I'll tell you the "good" so that you can forgive me for my yucky and redeem me. :)
Right now, there is a big part of me that just wants this kid OUT. I am so sick and tired of the unknown. I really hate the tremors, the poor blood circulation, the numbness, the pain in my hips from my shots, the loss of appetite coupled with the knowledge that this little guy needs tons of calories right now, and the sheer monotony of my time. Those are just the selfish things.
You know what's worse? Having my bladder bursting with urine but being afraid to get up and go to the restroom because I have a contraction every time I stand up. Feeling a twinge in my midsection and immediately reaching down to check whether it's a contraction or not. The sheer panic when the twinge spreads around from my back all the way up past my belly button and squeezes down on that precious bag of water that is currently keeping my son safe. The terror of going to the bathroom, since that's when my water broke completely with Ruby. The rapid decline of my emotions that is exactly the same as the decline that happened roughly four days before Ruby's birth.
And you know what's really bad? The guilt. I'm so emotionally tired of these things, and I just want him out. I know we'd have a rough road. I know we're not assured of his survival. I know we're not assured that he'll have a healthy normal life. I know that the odds are actually against that outcome. I know that I probably wouldn't be allowed to hold (and at times even see or talk) to my son for the first weeks. I know that every single minute, hour, day, and week that I lay here and keep him inside is worth unspeakable amounts of benefit for him. I know that the discomfort, panic, terror, fear, and unknown is worth it. Intellectually, I *know* that, and I wouldn't do anything other than that. I will lay here and carry him until there is no amount of medical intervention left for us to try. That doesn't stop me from just feeling selfish and pouty and wanting to be out of this bed and out of the unknown. That's where the guilt comes in. I hate feeling guilty.
So, that's where I'm at. Emotionally, I'd be totally willing to sacrifice the health and wellness of my son for my own mental sanity at this point. Mentally, physically, spiritually, and intellectually, I'm not willing to sacrifice Burke's health or wellness for anything. Not one thing. There is nothing that can make me give up on this kid. There is no medical mountain I won't climb. There is no fight I won't fight. There is nothing I will not do for him. I'm just feeling sorry for myself right now.
So, now I've "talked" about my feelings. :) This is the best way for me to do it, in my opinion. Because there are certain things that I really don't like hearing right now. I'm sorry. I'm really not trying to be mean. There are just certain things that don't help right now, and I'm handling as much as I can handle at this time.
If you feel the need to reach out to me, please do. Don't be afraid of saying the wrong thing, as long as you don't say something along these lines:
1. "You know this is best for Burke." (This can come in many forms. "If he stays in for just one more day, it will do wonders." "You're still so early." "It would be a really rough long road." "Micro-preemie NICU is hell." Etc....) Yes, I do know all of that. I promise. I know it to the core of my being, and that's why I'm doing it. I know you're only trying to help remind me of the important things, but it's still kind of annoying to hear. (I'm sorry. I promise I'm not a huge witch. Or at least I don't mean to be. I'm just fragile right now.)
2. "God wants to do a miracle with Burke. He's going to take you to 40 weeks!" That could be true, it could be false. In fact, if God takes me to 40 weeks, He and I are going to have a long talk. Really long... I can't handle 15 more weeks in this bed. :) On the other hand, can I please tell you that Burke's life has already been a miracle? First of all, he shouldn't have been conceived. It's a biological anomaly. Truly. Secondly, his time on Earth has had a greater impact, in it's 25 weeks of pregnancy, than mine has had in it's 25 years of life! Whether Burke lives another day or not, he has been one incredible little guy, and I have learned so much from him. Every single minute has been totally worth it. I don't need any greater miracle. I have already been blessed beyond what I could imagine. I asked God for one very specific thing, and He granted it...more than I could have even dreamed. Of course, I certainly wouldn't refuse more. :) *wink* :) Bring it on, God!
Okay, those are the only two things I can think of that are kind of hard right now. Like I said, I am not trying to be rude or mean. I'm even contemplating putting this post up. I want each and every single one of you to know that I love your support. I need your support. I need to know that you're walking this road with me as much as you can. Because loneliness would be worse than anything else. I just also feel compelled to be honest with you, so that you know I'm only human. I make mistakes and have selfish thoughts just like every other person living this life.
But I also know that's okay. I know God understands, and I know He continues to desire to have a relationship with me. I'm just hoping that many of you will continue to understand and want to have a relationship with me, as well. I know I can be hard to swallow sometimes. I'm working on it.
(By the way, posts on Comparing Ourselves and the Changed Mind are coming soon. I'm just trying to make them shorter than small novels. LOL!)
It was a storybook setting. A scene from a movie. A loving couple, lying on their bed before they fell off to sleep. The man, strong and silent, reading a thoroughly geeky book. The woman, supple and very obviously with child, reading a thoroughly emotional book. He with just his boxers. She with just her pajama bottoms and t-shirt, rolled up over her belly, leaving it bare.
As they read, a small ripple rolled across her stomach, and she reached down to touch the small life in the only way she could. Moments later, his hand joined hers, and they each imparted as much love as possible to the little life under the layers of skin, tissue, and muscles. Soft belly rubs. Tender tickles.
Their second child. A boy. Their son. Living, thriving, growing, moving, rolling, playing in a sac of water.
For anyone looking in on the moment, it would have seemed peaceful, loving, happy.
For the two people living through the moment, it was desperate, terrifying, full of faith.
Living, not yet assured life. Thriving, not yet assured health. Growing, not yet 2 lbs. Moving, facing gruesome possibilities. Rolling and playing, because it might be his only chance to do so.
Their second child. Their son. Only 24 weeks along in his pregnancy, and at risk of prematurely evacuating his safe space at any moment.
This is not a storybook. This is not a movie.
I cannot handle all of this. I cannot handle the panic that ripples through my body each time my back hurts or my stomach tightens. I cannot handle the fear that shoots through my heart each time I use the restroom and expect to feel the final gush, the final big rupture. I do not understand why my body was created in such a way that makes it incapable of completing a full-term healthy pregnancy.
This is my life. I can only live it by faith.
Because I know Someone who can handle my panic. I know Someone who can handle my fear. I know Someone who does understand why, and even how, my body was created. He has said that I am His. He has called me His child. This love I have for my son, He has for me. He has said that He has good plans for my life and my future. He has said that He works *all* things together for the good of those who love Him. And I love Him. I believe Him.
And so I continue to live this life. Because I know there is more, much more, in store. I know that good things are in my future. I know that He will carry and sustain me through whatever comes next.
I move past the panic and fear, and I continue to love this little boy in faith. I continue to dream for him in faith. I continue to believe that God has good plans for his future, as well as mine. And I stand on that. Whether Burke lives in me for 24 weeks or with me on Earth until I die, God is in control. And I trust Him.
Today is Friday, August 1, 2008. For some reason, I find it really fun that it's a Friday and the first day of the month! :) I hope something small makes you smile today, as well. :)
I decided to write about family traditions today, specifically because it's a Friday. I'm only going to write about two traditions, in the interest of your time. :) I hope to have several traditions to pass down to my children by the time they start their own families. For now, however, I have two specific ones that I'd like to share.
First, a fun tradition! When Mike (my husband) and his brother and sister were young, they had a Friday Night tradition. Mike's mom would make homemade pizza, and they would eat pizza and watch T.G.I.F. (Can I get a shout-out for "Step by Step" and "Family Matters"???) When Mike and I got married, we decided to start this tradition for ourselves, except we would rent a new movie, instead of watching television. We learned that I actually make a pretty mean homemade pizza, and I love to experiment. Thin crust, pan style, Chicago deep-dish style... I'm not always successful, but it sure is fun to try! :)
As the kids get older, I have grand visions of the four of us sitting around the most recent Disney, Pixar, or Dreamworks movie and chowing down on homemade pizza. I even hope that Ruby, Burke, and future children will learn to make pizza. We'll start off easy. I'll make their crusts, and they can put on the toppings. However, by the time they're older, I'd love to pass the dinner chore off to them on Fridays! :)
In my pipe dreams, I imagine that I can make this tradition so much fun that they will want to stay home on Friday nights, even when they're sixteen and have their licenses. :) Who knows? My friends always loved hanging out around my parents. Maybe that's another tradition I can shoot for.
And then, a serious tradition: I hope I don't embarrass my parents. My parents have always been good lovers. (Okay, you can stop laughing now.) :) I mean it in a million different ways.
When I was a child, my parents loved each other immensely, and they made it clear. They were never shy about being affectionate with each other. My dad would shower my mom with kisses or teasingly ask her what color underwear she was wearing. Of course, Kyle (my brother) and I would act like we were so grossed out. In actuality, however, I know it comforted us. It was so incredibly good to know that our parents were committed to each other. They made it a point to be respectful of each other. Even when they disagreed, they tried their best to disagree with respect in front of us. (They weren't perfect, but they tried. The effort was the most important thing for my brother and I to witness.)
As I got older, I realized how much my parents loved other people. They often sacrificed their own comfort for others. They were quick to give money, time, energy, and love to the people around them. It was hard to find someone in my community who didn't at the very least respect my parents. They may not have agreed with my parents, but they respected them. My dad owns a business with his brothers. They loved their employees. My dad has always tried to watch our for his guys, and he has always treated his employees fairly to help them take care of their families. My dad and my uncles were open about their faith in Christ and shared easily with their employees about the source of their success. I could share examples of my mother's love, but I don't want to embarrass her or anyone else. I can simply say that she has ALWAYS gone out of her way to show Christ's love to others...even to the point that it can be annoying at times. (But, seriously, what better way to be annoying?)
Needless to say, my parents loved their children. They showed us in a million different ways. More than anything, however, they lived a life that was worthy of modeling. I want to be an excellent lover. To my family, to my friends, and to everyone I meet. I just want to ooze love. (Doesn't that sound silly and corny?) I don't know. We could use a little more love in this world, don't you think?
So, yeah, I want to learn to be an amazing lover, and then I want to pass that tradition of love to my children. :)
So, those are my traditions for now. Maybe I'll do a Friday Theme for August. I'll share different traditions that I hope to have and pass along. :)
Oh, and one tradition that I DON'T want to pass along? Difficult pregnancies!!! I'll go through all the difficulty, if I can just assure that Ruby and my future daughters and daughters-in-law don't have to experience it. :)
Happy Friday, all! Enjoy your weekend!!!