Before I Was a Mom, I Was the Best Mom

I read a blog post by this same title a few months ago, and it continues to resonate with me.

It's sure easy to judge when we're not in it... I thought about this the other day when I saw an old photo of myself, holding my friend's little one. It's so funny how the years fly by-- I can still remember being so young and wondering what it would be like to be a parent, and now I'm a mom... I'm in it. I'm doing it. And of course, all of the things I said I'd never do, well here we are, doing most of them. Parenting is crazy like that, it kind of forces you to take a long look at yourself and the way you do things, and constantly question it all-- is this for the best? Is this working? It's been four years now, and the longer I do it, the more I realize that a big dose of kindness and understanding goes a long way, for both myself and for the parents around me, doing their thing too.

I knew motherhood was hard, but I didn't KNOW it was hard. It's beautiful, and life-giving in every way, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. But just like everyone said it would be, it's humbling, it's exhausting, it's exhilarating, it's terrifying. I've been an emotional wreck as I climb this steep learning curve of new-motherhood.

Because see, I thought that the first 6-12 months of motherhood were going to be so easy. Exhausting, yes, but not unmanageable. I thought I'd rock it. I take care of babies for a living! Toddlers are where the mystery begins, right? Um no.

I should've know better when, for the first 24 hours of labor, I was pretty sure it wasn't real labor. My due date wasn't for 10 more days, but more than that, I wasn't READY! Initially, I blamed the chaos on that early surprise. The house wasn't finished. My non-maternity clothes weren't unpacked. Heck, the baby's crib wasn't even assembled! But now, 11 months later, I can see that it would've been difficult no matter what. (And I'm just now unpacking the last of my non-maternity clothes. Ha!)

Yes, I take care of babies for a living, but I didn't factor in the hormones (ohhh the hormones), the postpartum anxiety, the 5 months of relentless pain. I didn't know that breastfeeding would be a full-time job for the first 6 weeks (seriously, 8 hours a day). I didn't realize that just because you know your baby isn't desperately NICU-level sick, doesn't mean you don't question every little cry, quirk, and squeak. I didn't anticipate how much harder it would be when the baby is YOURS. When your heart and mind and body and soul are invested in this unpredictable little being.

I mean, for the first 6 weeks, it took everything in me to let anyone beside Ross hold Noah without me wanting to snatch him back into my arms. For the first 3 months, it made me overly anxious if Noah was out of my line of vision. For 6 months, I couldn't hear Noah cry without wanting to cry myself (and there was a lot of crying on both ends!)

Today I sit here totally identifying with Ann Voskamp's words:

Yeah — if you’re being gut honest here — you don’t really want the cards or the flowers.

Or what gets wrapped up in shiny paper, or stuffed in a bag with wrinkled tissue paper, or anything that gets tied up and presented with these dangling tendrils of curling ribbon.

What you really wanted is to be extraordinarily, obviously, good at this. At this mothering thing.

You wanted to be the best at this.

You wanted to take the podium and gold medal in mothering — not take a million timeouts behind some locked bathroom door, turn on the water so no one hears you sobbing at what a mess this whole shebang is, and how you’d like to run away. Ask me how I know?

Honest? You wanted to be more... Never once did you ask to come stumbling into this with all this baggage — all these unhealthy-coping mechanisms, all these triggers, all this unspoken broken.

What you really want, desperately, wildly, in spite of everything — is for them to remember the good…. to remember enough of the times you whispered, “I Love You” … to know how many times you broke your heart and how how hard you really tried.

All you want? Is for them to feel a deep sense of safety, that they are safe to trust people, safe to dream large, safe to believe, safe to try, safe to love large and go fly — and you need to know that you haven’t wrecked that. That they feel the certain, tender embrace of your love —- in spite of all the storming times you acted unlovely.

I didn't know motherhood would make me doubt everything. I didn't know it would challenge my endurance and patience from the start. I didn't know that I could feel like such a spectacular failure on a daily basis.

But I also didn't know how much more I would love this baby who is my own. I don't take the honor of being his mother lightly. In fact, that's probably why I'm so hard on myself. This is real life. A real person. So impressionable. So dependent. The stakes are high. The calling is higher. I can only do this by, in turn, being dependent on One who is above me. By learning to rest in my own Provider when I can't do something alone. By remembering that He cares for me and has my best interest at heart, even when I don't understand. A mom's love for her baby has given me a beautiful glimpse into this kind of love God has for us. Thankfully, His love is steady and unfailing when mine is not.

On this, my first real Mother's Day, with Noah's first birthday on the imminent horizon, I have a lot to be thankful for.

Thank God for my mom, who put up with me being a 4am riser for my first year. History repeats itself, eh? She's been such a good listener through my anxiety, and as a mother of 4 with a husband who was a medical resident and then young doctor, she did motherhood with everything she had. Harder and better. I have the best role model. And I grew up with some pretty awesome grandmothers as well.

Thank God for friends who take my panicked texts into stride and continue to pour out love and advice without laughing at me (or... at least not in front of me)!

Thank God for a doula who has taken my worried phone calls for months, and never fails to strike the perfect balance between super natural crunchy mama and, well, common sense, that resonates with me.

Thank God for physical therapy and the emotional clarity that started to resume once I wasn't in a steady state of pain.

It does take a village to raise a child, and I'm so thankful for mine.

Happy Mother's Day to the one who made me...

...and to the one who made me a mother!

Noah's First Fourth

We drove to Omaha for the 4th of July, which was incredibly surreal. I've driven that road between KC and Omaha so many times. In high school for an impromptu girls' weekend, dozens of times in college on the way home from Texas for holidays, numerous times alone since moving to KC. Lots of memories, some good some bad. But it was crazy to think that 7 years earlier to the day, Ross and I were road-tripping to Omaha for my dad's 50th birthday party. We weren't even officially dating yet!

Hold the phone... here's a picture from that weekend 7 years ago. We were babies! NO idea what was in store for us.

 
And now here we are, driving our tiny baby to my parent's house.

We had a chill weekend. Lots of eating and sleeping for everyone! It was good to get out, and good to get home after a weekend away.

(necessary)

(my three brothers and my baby boy)

(learned a new trick by the end of the weekend)

Congrats Sarah and Tommy

On the last day of May, my oldest brother got married. I actually really wanted to write a big post congratulating him but, well, I ran out of time. Suffice to say, Sarah is awesome. I'm so glad she's joined our family! Marriage is so hard but so beautiful, and these two are off to a great start.

If I had the wherewithal, I'd write more like this:

i wanted to tell my sister that marriage is hard and sometimes...i know this will be difficult to believe...but sometimes, you will not want to spoon with your shnuk-ims and let them breathe on the back of your neck all night long. in fact you will ask them to sleep on the couch every so often...

there are lots of things to tell my sister about marriage. but really, it won't matter. it's like trying to tell someone who's pregnant about how their life will change when the baby arrives. it just doesn't work. in fact, it scares them from having a convo with you ever again.

Or this:

i'm so happy for you to start this new part of your life. i know you'll be running to me for all sorts of advice, so i'll spare having to humble yourself and ask.

here's the deal:
a lot of people think that getting married is going to make you happy. it will. sometimes. and sometimes, probably most of the time, it will not. that's because it's not about you.
it's not even about him.

it's about God. we mirror the gospel when we learn to lay down our lives for each other. when we deny ourselves and say, you are more important than me. you die to yourself when you know you could yell some crazy things to them and hurt them so bad. after all, they deserve it. but remember something.

remember that you do some awful stuff. mean stuff.
God knows that about you and still loves you and pursues you every day. he still says, i forgive you when you don't deserve it. he gives you so much grace.
and out of that grace, you are able to give your husband grace. it's the only way.

if you think you can go into marriage, and do this in your own strength, look around. christians and non christians have the same divorce rate. it's really easy to walk away from someone that hurts you deeply. your spouse will be the one who can can love the deepest, but they can cut the deepest too.

and so, you'll need something more than human love.
because your husband can't satisfy that need.
God made it this way for a very important reason:
He, himself is your satisfaction.

i know you didn't ask for this. but i'm your bossy old sister and this is where i get to write things while you're forced to listen.

when things get difficult, really difficult, don't look inward. don't "believe in yourself". don't wake up and try harder. the answer is not inside of you, but outside of you.
simply ask God to show up and change your heart and mind. ask HIM to help you love your husband like He loves your husband.

and when you do it all wrong. when you mess up bad and hurt your husband. when you act stupid and say things you shouldn't have said, know that God still loves you. He will not turn away from you. He knows all the worst things about you and still chooses you.

that is how you love each other. not tips on communication, not better sex, not more kids, not a bigger house. not a better job.
you wake up and ask God to help you love a person that is sometimes unlovable because you recognize that you too are the very same.

good news for newlyweds who don't know what they're getting themselves into when they say, I DO. none of us knew!
maybe God does that on purpose.
funny Guy.

Instead, I'll just say this: keep it all out in the open. When those lines of communication break down, so much falls apart. If you're happy, sad, afraid, stressed... talk. And LISTEN. Don't jump to the defensive. If anything ever feels off, bring it to your spouse. If they brush you off, bring it to a trusted friend. Marriage is too important to present as perfect on the outside while it falls apart on the inside. Fight for it every day! We love you and we mean it when we say, "best wishes and congratulations!"


{Awesome photos courtesy of Tracy Routh}

Grandma Ginny

A world without grandmothers would be a terrible place indeed.

I'm so thankful that I spent the first 28 years of my life with two wonderful grandmas. However, this past Thursday we said our final goodbyes to my Grandma Ginny. I'm not really at peace with the circumstances that landed her in the burn unit on Monday (there are so many "if onlys" haunting us), but I'm very at peace with her departure on Thursday. The palliative care doctor said that Thursday was the final chapter in the book of her life, and she would write it. She left the world peacefully and surrounded with love. As the priest said at her final blessing, God makes us for himself and he calls us back to him. For some reason, even though we can't understand it right now, her trial by fire will glorifies him.

Grandma Ginny was a hard worker, a faithful wife, a loving mother, and a devoted Christ-follower. She offered up her many sufferings and when it was time for her to leave this world, I had to be happy that she would finally be relieved of her pain. Thursday was such a sad day for us, but such a happy day for her.

Once her prognosis became clear on Wednesday night, palliative care doctors were able to meet with her children to discuss her care. Per her living will, they decided to remove life support on Thursday. She breathed on her own for a few more minutes, surrounded by family. We read Psalm 34 out loud and held her hands and shared a few final words as she left. It was so perfect and even though there wasn't a dry eye in the room, I think we all couldn't help but be happy for her deep deep down.

I will extol the Lord at all times;
his praise will always be on my lips.
I will glory in the Lord;
let the afflicted hear and rejoice.
Glorify the Lord with me;
let us exalt his name together. 

I sought the Lord, and he answered me;
he delivered me from all my fears.
Those who look to him are radiant;
their faces are never covered with shame.
This poor man called, and the Lord heard him;
he saved him out of all his troubles.
The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him,
and he delivers them. 

Taste and see that the Lord is good;
blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.
Fear the Lord, you his holy people,
for those who fear him lack nothing.
The lions may grow weak and hungry,
but those who seek the Lord lack no good thing.
Come, my children, listen to me;
I will teach you the fear of the Lord.
Whoever of you loves life
and desires to see many good days,
keep your tongue from evil
and your lips from telling lies.
Turn from evil and do good;
seek peace and pursue it. 

...The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them;
he delivers them from all their troubles.
The Lord is close to the brokenhearted
and saves those who are crushed in spirit. 

The righteous person may have many troubles,
but the Lord delivers him from them all;
he protects all his bones,
not one of them will be broken. 

..The Lord will rescue his servants;
no one who takes refuge in him will be condemned. {Psalm 34}

From our whirlwind trip to and from Omaha last Monday, to our rushed drive back to Omaha Thursday, to her upcoming funeral this Monday, it's hard to believe everything that's happened in a week. From pain and devastation, to critical but stable with some hope, to having to say goodbye. It's been such a crazy week that I don't think I've digested the finality of it. It'll be hard to gather with the whole family again and not see her chuckling at something nearby.

I know death causes a lot of people to maybe find meaning and comfort in silly coincidental things, but I think it also offers a glimpse of heaven to those of us left in death's wake. Driving home from the hospital at sunset on Thursday, I saw a fraction of a rainbow in the sky and for some reason, it made me so happy. I felt like my grandma was reassuring us that she was in heaven at last and that she was full of joy!

I will always remember her as a down-to-earth woman who enjoyed life. She was funny, strong, pragmatic, and devoted. She loved God. She loved babies. But she had a personal vendetta against any squirrel that happened to wander into her amazing backyard garden-- she trapped over 500 of them! She always drove the trapped squirrels two miles away (across the interstate so they couldn't come back) and released them all in the same spot, "in case they were family."

Whenever she met a new friend of mine, she'd ask who their parents and grandparents were. The amazing thing is, she always seemed to know half of them from back in the day!

In the way that women who can't get pregnant seem to see babies and pregnant women everywhere, I feel like since loosing my Grandma Ginny on Thursday, I've seen little old ladies everywhere. I actually mean that in the nicest way possible, since my grandma called her group of friends the "little old ladies." In fact, well into her 70s, she was working with a home healthcare agency, taking care of "old people." She was always young at heart, always up for an adventure, always practical and loving at the same time. She didn't waste time complaining, but she was certainly opinionated.

She remained faithful to my grandpa through an early diagnosis and long battle with Alzheimer's. She cared for him at home so much longer than most people would've, and when he finally had to be put into a nursing home, she visited daily. Even on the days he didn't remember her. Even when his personality had changed.

Even when it was hard. She was there. For all of us.

We miss you already, Grandma Ginny!

For I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time for my departure is near. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day-- and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing. {2 Timothy 4:6-8}

13 Weeks: Alien Invasion

Sometimes it feels like my body has been invaded by aliens. I'm not even talking about the weirdness of having a tiny little person existing inside of me! All these hormonal changes are truly wild.

Best I can figure, pregnancy is like going through puberty again at warp speed. All sorts of things are growing in new places, and growing bigger in other places. My moods are all over the place. Body image is perpetually confused. Tempers are short. Everything (good and bad) makes me tear up. Hunger can overtake me out of nowhere.

Other things... just change. Like tastebuds. I feel like a totally different person sometimes. Here we are in the midst of winter squash season, something I usually embrace. Yet the though of eating cooked squash right now makes me gag a little. Instead, I want things like cucumber and onion salad, sushi, green smoothies, cold cereal... things I rarely crave even in the warmest months since I'm so cold-natured! It's weird.

Also, sometimes I cannot drink enough water.

Other times, I wake up feeling completely drugged, like someone slipped me some Valium in my sleep and I'm still hazy when I get up. My grandma Ginny empathized with me over this fatigue at Thanksgiving. It was so fun hearing her talk about being pregnant all those years ago!

I'm not the world's greatest sleeper, but getting up at 4am and being unable to fall back asleep is also something new that's getting old really fast.

You would think some caffeine could fix that. I love good black coffee, but right now even the smell of coffee makes me turn up my nose. My Grandma Schekirke empathized with me on this one-- she's a coffee fanatic. Except when she was pregnant back in the day.

I don't have a bump yet, but my belly button is suddenly much shallower and tighter? It's weird. I'm not used to seeing the bottom of my belly button.

Also, I'm generally a clumsy person but lately I drop everything! It's like my hands just don't work half the time.

Basically, this baby is already starting to change everything and I love it... most of the time.

Thankfully, one thing has been conspicuously absent the past two days-- nausea!!! I'm practically euphoric that I don't feel like vomiting every waking moment. I still have some food aversions, and nausea does still sneak up on me from time to time, but it's a night and day difference from last week. I feel like myself again in some ways!

With this week behind me, just like that, I'm out of the first trimester. This pregnancy thing is starting to seem a lot more real (and not like one long bout of the stomach flu). I'm getting really excited to meet whoever is growing in there. He or she is already the size of a small peach this week!

Southern Slovenia

The second half of our trip was really confusing to me. Lots of small towns with names that sounded different depending on who said what. I asked my dad to write a guest post, and he sent his portion to me before I'd even started mine! I thought about editing, but thought it was best to leave mostly as-is. Enjoy!

-----

On Thursday we rented a van and drove south from Ljubljana.  Our first stop was in Ribnica.  Because your grandma’s grandpa was a peddler when he came to the US in 1866, we thought there might be some sort of tie with Ribnica.  The community was given the privilege to peddle in the Austrian empire since 1492.  

Ribnica is one of the oldest Slovenian towns with rich history. From the distance the visitors are greeted by two bell towers of the Ribnica Parish Church, which are built in cathedral style according to the design of the architect Jože Plecnik. Ribnica used to be an ancient parish for the west part of the Lower Carniola (Dolenjska) in the times of Christianisation. 

(buckwheat mash with bacon drippings for lunch in Ribnica)

The year 1492 was important for the economy of Ribnica as the Caesar Friderick III awarded its inhabitants the right to free trading with handmade ware. Besides for the suha roba woodenware and pottery the town is famous for its natural beauties and rich cultural heritage, which boasts the Ribnica Castle from 10th century. 

It houses four permanent displays, which depict the events in the Ribnica Valley through the centuries. Ribnica also boasts a cultural memorial park dedicated to eminent personalities, summer theatre, the birth house of the linguist Stanislav Škrabec, the Ortnek Castle, the castle ruins on Breg, numerous viewing points in the untouched landscape.

The rich heritage of Ribnica can be seen in numerous legends and cultural, ethnographic and tourist events. Here are some of the most famous ones: the Ribnica Fair (Ribniški sejem) of woodenware and pottery, the Carnival, St. Nicholas' Eve Party (Miklavževanje), live nativity scene. 

We then drove through the Kocevski Rog.  It is one of Europe’s last virgin forests.  The pine and beech woods are home to brown bears, wolves, and lynx.  It is also the location of Baza 20, the nerve center for the anti-Fascist struggle, and was never discovered by the Nazis.  It is preserved as the only serving headquarters of European wartime resistance.

We wanted to stop by the Mithrian temple site, but couldn’t find it. Mitrej above Rožanc is one of the most attractive archaeological monuments in Slovenia, and can be found along the regional road Semič – Črnomelj, in the village Rožanec. The relief most likely originates from the second century, and the image of god Mitra carved into a rock has been preserved in its natural environment in the valley of chestnut forest Judovje, near the branch church of St Jurij. The cast of the relief from the 20th century can be seen in the Bela Krajina Museum in Metlika.

We then drove to Crnomelj, the parish town that your grandma’s great grandfather, Peter Tomec, was baptized.  The parish over 750 years old and had been attacked by the Turks numerous times over the centuries.  Unfortunately, the museums, and shops were closed by the time we got there.  

We then drove into the village of Jerneja Vas, the village the Tomecs lived in.

 

[from Therese: we drove through this one-street town all slow and creepy-like until finally the neighbors started wondering what was going on. One couple was outside with their grandkids and asked if we needed help. When it was evident that we did not speak Slovenian, they ran inside to get their daughter who graciously interpreted. My dad and uncle started asking about the house numbers, which had obviously been changed since the town was originally built. Then they said the Tomecs were our ancestors. Then the grandpa got all excited and popped in a few houses down to grab an old, distant relative who came over with is ancestry papers. (A "living legend" as he called himself).  This totally random family in the middle of the countryside invited these strangers in and proceeded to serve a ton of food and drinks and happily discussed ancestry with my dad. They were so hospitable and friendly, and the older neighbor had the same color blue eyes as my dad which was kind of neat!]

not the house we were invited into, but maybe one that used to house our ancestors?

What I thought was interesting was we went from asking an old man if he spoke English to sitting in their house eating meats, cheeses, etc, and leaving with a bottle of Jaegermeister, that he made himself (from Canadian whiskey that he added 54 herbs and spices, and left in a barrel for a year), and the largest bunches of grapes I’ve ever seen.  The red grapes were the same varietal (they call them Modra Frankinja) that I grow (we call them Lemberger).

That night we stayed in the bed and breakfast in Dragatus.  This is the town that your grandma’s grandma, Barbara Tomec, because the village of Zapudje was assigned the Dragatus parish right before she was born.  All of her older siblings and parents, grandparents, etc, were baptized in the parish of Vinica.

our bed and breakfast

The next morning we visited Tanta Gora, the village of our distant relative. [from Therese: via ancestry.com and DNA swab matching, my dad met a distant relative named Ales who graciously and excitedly offered to be a tour guide for us. He was a lot of fun, he loved Slovenia, and he was great interpreter to have in the smaller towns! We got to visit his home and family in Tanta Gora, and later visit his kids in school back in Dragatus. At his house, we got to try some coffee, fresh juice, and lots of local snacks.] We left with 2 large bottles of wine.  I think this is where we got the plum brandy (slivovica) in a plastic bottle.

oldest homestead in Tanta Gora

We also visited Zapudje, the village that your grandma’s grandparents were born in.  We found out that the Gorse family was one of the 2 families that founded the village.  2 Gorse brothers from Ribnica (this might be the peddler connection) were given half the land in the village in the 1700’s when Maria Theresa was undertaking land reform in the Austrian empire.  The other half was given to the Stefanic family (we have some Stefanic’s in our family tree also), likely from Croatia.  They were still defending the borders of the Austrian empire from the Turks.  We also found the House of Gorse, which appeared to be the oldest house in the village.

250 years old and still inhabited!

so many animals and gardens

 

 Saturday morning we stopped in Vinica, the parish town that your grandma’s grandparents were baptized.  The church, Holy Cross, has been there since the 16^th century, but has had significant remodeling.  We got some holy water to bring back to your grandma.

Vinica is a clustered settlement situated high above the river Kolpa, next to the Slovene-Croatian border and 18 km from Crnomelj. Vinica, already inhabited in prehistory, is nowadays marked by an international border crossing. The remains of the Vinica Castle are an important document of the past. The birth house of the poet Oton Župancic is located in the centre of Vinica and has been renovated, as the original house burned down in the great fire of 1888. The poet’s memorabilia is displayed on the ground floor, while the first floor is dedicated to his Vinica compatriot Oton Berkopec. The bust of Župancic can be seen in the garden and it is the work of Jakob Savinšek.

crossing into Croatia

Goodbye, Slovenia! I miss you already!

 Zupancic belonged to a talented group of Slovenian poets born between 1870 and 1878.  He remained rooted in his native soil, particularly in the Bela krajina region of Slovenia (where we were the last 3 days of our trip)

 Some verses from Zupancic:

Forge me on thy anvil, Life!

Am I flint-then I shall flash.

Am I steel, then I shall sing.

Am I glass, then let me crash.

A NIGHT PSALM

Stars high above the midnight air,

golden, mute.

Alas, so destitute---

where to, my spirit, where in thy despair?

(more to this poem)

MY IMAGE

Could I but reach my own true image,

could I at last behold it!

For dark it is within my darkness;

it pierces, permeates me through

in its ascent.

I grope for it

with all my being, like a blindman fumbling;

I grow with its own growth

and stumble in its company

not knowing whither….

(later in the poem)

Who stubbornly pursues his aim,

with faith retained,

and yet expands through inner growth:

he may at last spread out his arms,

like one who sees the light of day,

and spans the web of dreams eternal----

he shows his image true:  the cross.

Could I but reach my image

my own and yours, my people!

-----

It's me again! Didn't my dad do a great job? There's so much history I have yet to learn about such a tiny country I'd never really heard of prior to last year.

We spent our last day in Zagreb, Croatia. It was drizzly and cold, which overshadowed our experience a bit. But also, Slovenia was so green and pristine it was an abrupt change to go from those villages to old Yugoslavian streets. We did go on a walking tour, though, with a really good guide, and that helped me warm up to Zagreb a bit. My brothers also sent my mom some birthday flowers, so those added some color to our dreary day!

In the end, our entire trip to Slovenia was so much fun. A great first taste of Europe! (Although I'm afraid the rest of Europe might pale in comparison to this gem of a country.) It was the perfect mix of city and country, big and small, nature and culture. I can't wait to go back!