Still Sorting Through It.....

I tossed and turned all night on Sunday. I had clinicals at Lake County Jail and had to be there by 7am. I am always afraid that I'll over sleep and was nervous about going, so I woke almost every hour to check the time on my phone.

At 3:58a I rolled over, grabbed my phone just in time to see a message from Beth, my dad's wife, pop up saying 'Call me.'

I hopped out of bed and went to the family room so I wouldn't wake Mike. I called. No answer. I texted. No response. I sat for about 15 minutes and then went back to lay in bed. I cradled the phone under my ear to be sure I heard it if she called. At 4:12, she called. I asked what was wrong and she asked to talk to Mike. I woke him and handed him the phone. He sat up and didn't say much. He hung up and took a deep breath. It seemed like hours until he finally said "Your dad is in a coma. He is unresponsive and they're not sure what's wrong. They're moving him to ICU. Beth is on her way there now." I pelted him with 100 questions - all of which he had no answers to. Mike held me and I cried. I knew from the click of that first text that my dad was gone. I kept telling myself that he's stubborn and will wake up and laugh at how worried we all are....but he never would.

I went back to the family room. I could'nt sleep and I needed more answers - and coffee. I called the hospital's {in Stockbridge, GA where he was} Cardiac ICU. The secretary was nice, but could give me no info. She must've heard the panic in my voice as I tried to hold it together. She said the team was still in his room and the doctor would speak with family as soon as they arrived.

I sat. And stared. I couldn't think, couldn't pray, couldn't even sip my hot coffee. I called my brother to let him know. He was steady and comforting. At about 4:45 my phone rang and it was Beth on the other end. She was paniced, out of breath, and crying. She said she was on her way out the door and a nurse just called and asked that she hurry - my dad had gotten 'more critical'.

The rest of the morning is a blurr. I texted my sister and she called back and sobbed when she heard the news. I had to keep my composure to get the kids ready for school and fed. I called my professor and she said I should be home and not to worry about clinicals. My friend took Park to school and our sitter came to be with Rae and Hunter.

Beth texted me around 8 and said we had some decisions to make. She wouldn't text back or answer my calls. I was upset and called Mike. He said he was on his way home. I knew he had talked to Beth. He knew something and I knew nothing. He came in and said dad had to have surgery. He had a bleed on his brain. They had to open up his chest to get his heart regulated and to stop the bleed. He had no chance of survival without the procedure and very slim chance of making it through the surgery....

I cried. I was numb. I was mad. Mike got the kids situated and we headed to the church. We sat in the empty santuary and cried, talked, and were comforted by our Pastor. The entire staff prayed over us. We left and I updated the family via text.

We went to Bob Evans and had breakfast. We went to pick up drawings for a job mike is doing and then to Uptown Cafe to meet our youth ministry leader. When I walked in the door. My phone rang. It was Beth. The neurologist had come in to check dad. His pupils were dilated and fixed and dad had no reflexes. A sure sign that his brain had died. I cried and stared. My dad was gone. We were asked to come as soon as possible.

We got into Atlanta at 12:30 p.m. Monday night. I walked into dad's room. He looked peaceful. An NG tube in his nose. Mutiple IV lines and an arterial line in either arm. A catheter in place. Leads on his chest. An endotracheal tube placed in his mouth to breathe for him. He was on medications; lots of meds. To control his heart rate, keep his kidneys working, something for regulating blood pressure.... {All my nursing school knowledge flew out the window when I stepped in his room}My dad - always strong and bold and loud. That day was quiet and unresponsive. I had cried all day and most of the drive down - so I held it together when I saw him. I held his hand and talked with him. I kissed his head and told him we'd be back the next morning.

We got a hotel room and slept from 3:30a to 6:30a and went back to his bedside.

The next week is still like a fuzzy, bad dream. I sat with my dad on his bed, holding his hand. I really felt like he would hear me and wake up. Even just blink or squeeze my hand back. I told him he had to wake up - he could not leave with out saying goodbye. It wasn't fair. I didn't eat and filled up only on coffee.

People were in and out of the room. So many people who saw me asked "You're Fred's baby girl aren't you? He adored you and talked about you all the time" {I know I was his favorite ;)} I met some of dad and Beth's friends, but I can't remember their names or even what they looked like- I didn't want them there. I wanted to scream that they needed to stop planning dinner and what errands they needed to run and leave. Some of them giggled and joked around - I was furious. I sat with my back to them, staring at my dad. This was my last time with him. I hated them for being ok. I was watching the only constant in my life slip away. His hand must've bruised from how tightly I squeezed and rubbed it for three days straight.

There is so very much more to this story - but I don't want to remember those details. Things got hard and kinda bad between us and his wife. She would not accept that he was gone and let his body rest until the doctor stepped in and told her that under Georgia state law, once a person is proclaimed brain dead they must be taken off life support. It was a long, ugly day. But I knew my dad wouldn't want a fight. So I stayed with him. I prayed, and we 'talked'.

We got home on Thursday late afternoon. My dad passed away at 1 a.m. on Friday March 8. I was not there. I am still trying to be okay with all that happened. With not being outside that OR when he finally went home. I loathe his wife for going home. For falling so deeply into sleep and not keeping me updated. That I sat by the phone and wondered if he was still fighting....Did they take him off the vent and he breathed on his own? Was he in pain? Aware of what was happening?? My mind went crazy.....I got a text from Beth the next morning. An 'oops! I fell asleep and forgot to call' {Father, help me to accept the things I can not change - and to be KIND!!} We all grieve differently and I know it's not up to me to tell others how or what they should do in a time like this.

He was a full organ donor. His beautiful blue eyes gave the gift of sight to someone. His kidneys are giving life to two people. And his liver and spleen were donated as well.

My God is soverign. His timing is immaculate and perfect. His will is good and His heart only loves. It is not to me to question Him.

But I am left with a hurting heart. I am a 29 year old orphan - my mom is not stable or healthy nor any part of my life, and my beloved pop is in heaven. I haven't had the chance to fall apart - I had to keep it together to plan his memorial, to get family in town, to arrange hotles, make decisions, and continue on with school, kids, chores, life.

I have been assured there will be a time to sort through all the 'yuck' that's left. Emotions, questions, hurt, anger, and sadness. I am resting in the fact that my dad is so very much enjoying fishing, dancing, feasting, and laughing with his Heavenly Father.

 I just miss him. I have called his phone more times than I care to admit just to hear his voice on his outgoing message. He is a beautiful soul and I know he's exactly where he's meant to be.....

Life - In 3 Hour Increments

I wake at 6:30 a.m. My hardworking {and HOT} hubby is usually out the door and on call by this time. I walk, bleary eyed, to the kitchen and start the coffee. The boys giggle and wish me good morning. I make my way down the hall to littlest's room and scoop her up for kisses. She smiles when she sees us now - one of the sweet bonuses of my job.

7 a.m starts Rae's eat/play/sleep cycle. She noisily takes down 5 ounces and heartily burps. She's changed and while she happily plays in her baby gym, I change my clothes, set up my yoga mat, and turn on Jillian Michael's Yoga Meltdown DVD. I am in love with the practice of yoga - I always thought it was just breathing and stretching, and somehow centered around Buddah! But it's body training, concentration, and has changed my body dramatically in a matter of a week! {I'm down 3 more pounds, and Mike has noticed my toned arms and booty!} The boys love on Rae and keep her happy while I finish my work out - they are such good helpers, most of the time. I look at the clock and decide if Rae should go down for a nap and how much I can get done before she eats again at 10. Some days are full of errands and school for Park, so she has had to learn to go with the flow, and sleep thru A LOT of noise :) but, she does well. Might as well get her used to the hustle and bustle of Krooswyk life from a young age.

This is it, Rae eats every 3 hours, and I try my best to fit everything else in between.

The boys needs and mealtimes, laundry, dishes, errands, cooking, cleaning, refereeing brotherly spats, organizing, planning, paying bills, and a few spare minutes to get lost in a book or magazine on my Nook. (The bathroom/bathing fits in as well, but I almost always have an audience for those times of day - a not-so-attractive bonus of my job! And, more often than not, my shower comes at 8:30 p.m. after all the kids are in bed and fast asleep.) My new perfume is that of spit up, my outfit of choice is work out clothes that are comfortable, and the bags under my eyes are worn proudly - as no amount of make up will cover them.

Mike gets home around 5, and at 4:30 I pray for the energy to make him feel special and appreciated. For the patience to give him a few minutes to shower and unwind when he walks in the door - when all I really wanna do is toss him a few kids and get dinner made with both hands!  I long for the days of dates with him and sleeping through the night so I have the energy to be his best friend and enjoy our life at a steady pace.

These days are hard and at times trying, but they're days that I'll soon miss. Rocking and signing Rae to sleep, praying with the boys and talking about everything left over on their minds from the day's activities. All too soon they'll be in school, driving, dating, and wanting to be independent from their parents. Oy! My heart hurts when I think of how big they're getting - and the fact that they will not quit getting bigger - no matter how much I beg them not to!

Maternity leave has been the toughest job I've had to date! And in 3 short weeks, I'll be back at work and starting Nursing school. Two things which I am looking forward to, but at the same time dreading. I am blessed beyond measure; a beautiful family, a job I love, and the new adventure of school and a new career. I pray for my children and husband daily - sometimes hourly depending on what the day holds - and pray also for my eyes to be opened to enjoy every minute of this crazy, beautiful life!   

Tells a Story....

Sometimes I look at old pictures of me and get nostalgic for that nice, fit body that I sported for 23 years. That is, until I gave birth to my firstborn, Parker. Then, 17 months later, came Hunter. And now, 4 years after we welcomed Park, a little girl will join our brood!

I wake most mornings more tired than when I went to bed the night before. I scrape my hair back into a messy pony tail and gaze at the woman staring back at me in the mirror. I'm learning to glorify God in everything - even  my thoughts. So, here is how I choose to see this body of mine.

I'll let you in on the secrets of it's story.....

My hair is messy but washed [almost] everyday. It's the hair of a busy mom who wears it just so that it can be pulled into a hair tie and needs only a blow dryer to be 'styled' for the day.

My green eyes peer back at me, lined with dark circles. The circles that remind me of how hard I work all day long - and sometimes into the night - to assure that my boys are taken care of.

Crows feet outline those dark circles and remind me of how much I laugh - how important I think it is to stop and see the joy in every day.

My shoulders are strong and carry the burdens of those I love.

My hands are wide but strong. Able to care for patients at work, my family and friends, and full of worship. My nails are bitten and my cuticles are rough, but they are a testament to a working, worrying momma!

My 'lady lumps' are small, but nourished 2 beautiful boys into healthy little men. :)

My navel is scarred from a belly-button ring, but it reminds me of my younger days - carefree and bikini clad!

My hips are wide, but have brought two {soon to be 3!} children into this crazy beautiful world.

My hips to mid-thigh are marked like a road map, but the scars remind me of how amazing my body is to stretch and reconstruct to make another being. They're the battle scars of my most amazing accomplishments.

My legs are the strongest part of my body, and have carried me through good times and bad, happiness and tragedy. 

My feet are wide and flint-stone like, but they are the support for this whole body. They were made to follow God, and that's just what they do.  

My mind is fuzzy and at times forgetful, but God gave me the brains to succeed in school and be a teacher to my children. 

My heart has been broken a time or two, but is filled with God's word and bursting with love and truth.  

I am fearfully and wonderfully made!

A Request...

How do you be the best mom you can when the only example you have known seems like something straight out of a Jerry Springer episode?

This is a question that has haunted me since the day Mike and I got married. We both knew from our first date that we wanted kids - and to raise them in a Christian household. Talking about it was fine - and when we became pregnant with Parker I talked myself into believing that I would be the best mom, the total opposite of my mother. I prayed daily and trusted that God would take over and teach me by example of women around me how to accomplish my most important goal. And He did teach me....I'm learning everyday through the Word, prayer, amazing girlfriends and family, and trial-and-error. I don't always do it right; I fail, and I yell, and I misunderstand. But there is forgiveness in every new morning I greet. God has placed the most amazing Step Mom and Mother in Law in my life - and I can't imagine how I would make it through without them. And my husband; oh, my BEST half. He is gentle, loving, and so very patient when I just need to cry or vent or laugh. He makes me laugh harder than anyone I've ever met. And he builds me up and forces me see the good job I am doing.

But that was with the boys.....

We recently found out that we're having a baby GIRL - Praise the Lord for a beautiful, healthy, and perfectly developing child! I will not question God's perfect will over my life and the lives of the children He will give. But, just between you and me, I'm scared to death of being a mother to a girl.

My mother and my relationship has been unhealthy and turbulent since my earliest memories. I've always bent over backwards to try and make my mother love me, to make her proud. She left in the middle of the night when I was 10, and never looked back or accepted responsibility. Every time she called and came back and I forgave and forgot - I wound up being hurt, no, destroyed. I always turned a blind eye to her blatant sinning in hopes that she would accept me and be a healthy fixture in my life. But I just can't any longer. I am a mother - and I need to be emotionally and physically healthy in order to best take care of my family.

The last time my mother and I talked was when Hunter was only a few weeks old - well over two years ago. In that conversation I was letting God speak through me - keeping my cool and not stooping to her level. I calmly explained to her that her lies were catching up with her and hurting people she [supposedly] loved. And that her drug and alcohol abuse made it impossible to have a relationship with her. She yelled and ranted, cursed me up one side and down the other, called me every name in the book and ended with calling me the b-word and sarcastically saying that I am 'just SOOO perfect' (in a snotty 6th grade girl kind of voice). Her words still haunt me. My own mother - hating me. Spewing venom and lies that cut me so deep and won't stop ringing in my ears. She said I would end up just like her with my children being taken away from me.

Just like her....Just like her...Just like her.....

I am not her - and I pray that God will reveal truths in my life and keep me accountable and on the straight and narrow. But the enemy has weaseled his way into my thoughts, entwined his lies in the truth and blurred the lines so much so that I am feeling inadequate and fearful. I am starting to believe that I will be just like her - that this sweet baby girl will feel the same way about me someday that I feel towards my mother.

Pregnancy is uber emotional all on its own so I've been pushing these feelings and fears away in hopes that not acknowledging them will make them *poof* disappear! But they aren't going anywhere, and I refuse to let Satan win and take away the joy of carrying a child and basking in God's amazing plan!

So, what's my request? Your Prayers. I love my children beyond measure and I trust in the Lord with all my heart - and if you know me at all, you know these truths are evident in my life. But, I need my head and my heart to coincide and free me from these thoughts and lies. I need to take steps in forgiveness and move on with my life once and for all....Any ideas on how to actually do that? :)

Mom Guilt

Oy! The beauty of being a mother - and the pressure put on to be the best and do it all, all of the time.

I had a good day at work on Saturday - we were busy and the day flew by. I stopped off at Kohl's and Yankee Candle to score freebies and get a few Christmas gifts on my way home. I arrived home ready to get a shower and hang out with the Youth Group at Pesto's and a VU Basketball game.

Then I saw I had started to spot - again. I was scared and upset and called the doctor. She asked that I come to the Hospital and get checked out. I went in immediately and called a dear friend on the way for support and prayer. All checked out fine, no dilation, no contractions, and an ultrasound showed baby girl safely inside, playing away! It was a nerve-racking 3 hours, and many calls and texts to update Mike of what was going on. I lay in the bed worrying away....when the nurse came in with a smile and gave me the all clear. She ordered bed rest for 48 hours and a few further instructions.

I walked up to my unit to give my doctor's note with the order to stay home from work the next day. And it hit me: GUILT!! I feel awful about calling off. Then, the girls reminded me that rest is exactly what I need, and it was probably doing too much at work that got me into this in the first place.... Then, I felt worse. I had caused this, brought it upon myself.

I came home and got my babies in bed (without lifting one of them!) and snuggled in to relax and put my feet up.

Bed rest sounds like a lovely little vacation from chores and having to wear anything but sweats. But for me, Type A and a touch ADHD, sitting still is not one of my strong suits! I made lists, did homework, read, and folded laundry, and ordered a maternity support belt for work - all while sitting....I felt guilty about watching Mike get the boys showered and off to church, preparing meals, cleaning up, and he also had work to catch up on.

I would do anything to keep my baby safe and healthy, but little girl is giving me a run for my money! I am still resting today. My wonderful Mother-in-Law is coming to help out with the boys and I will check in and see what the doctor wants to do next.

I am following orders and trying like crazy to keep this nagging guilt at bay! I guess I'll just enjoy being the one to be taken care of and playing with my little boys.... :)

Just Some Friendly Tips....

If you should ever encounter a pregnant woman, please choose your words, comments, questions, and suggestions, carefully.

 Here are a few LOVELY little comments I have received thus far in this pregnancy (number 3):

1. "How far along are you? Really? Really? Are you sure you're only __ weeks along??"

2. "Maybe you're carrying twins!?! You can't be that big so early for just ONE baby...."

3. "I think it's a Girl. They say that girl's take all your good looks."

4. "It could be a girl, they say you gain a lot of weight in your butt and thighs when you're having a girl."

5. "Should you be eating that?" (It was a  SALAD and a slice of pizza!!)

6.  " Caffeine really isn't good for you..." (To which I replied: I get one cup of coffee and/or can of pop a day. It's one thing that I SO look forward to as I have 2 kids - neither of whom nap! - I work, and I go to school!)

7. "WOW! You're REALLY big!"

8. "How OLD are you?!?" (To which I'd love to reply, while wrangling my 2 other kids - "Just turned 16..." just to mess with people!!)

Long story short: We're tried, we're sweaty, we're EMOTIONAL, and your comments - although well meant - are not helpful, nor kind.

I'm enjoying this time with my guys and a precious little one in my belly, and I am finally learning to laugh it off. This is my fourth pregnancy in four years, and I think I'm doing pretty well! :)

Is That Poop Smeared on My Shirt?!?

We've been in Wisconsin Dells for the past few days and have had a blast on our much-needed family vacation! Horseback riding, water parks, go-carts, arcades, treats, an historical train ride, and a petting zoo. My boys have loved every minute of it - except, of  course, sitting down to eat three times a day. I have a love-hate relationship with food - I love it, but its hard to eat while trying not to toss my cookies. And I hate it when I know I need to eat, but it takes me 30 minutes to choke down a banana!

We had a few meltdowns on this trip - which were quickly curtailed by an appropriate punishment and due to little boys being tired from simply too much fun.

I spent almost all of my trip covered in food that the boys [generously] wiped on my clothes, sticky, and just plain dirty. I sported raccoon eyes while running in and out of waterfalls with the boys, up ladders and down water slides! I carried tired guys, and lugged my camera to capture every minute. I sometimes get wrapped up in how I look to others. 'Hi! We're from Indiana. Haha - normally I don't look like this but *child* spilled *whatever can be spilled* on me.' {Haha, cringe!} and 'Normally I don't sweat this much, but I'm 7 1/2 weeks pregnant. Yeah, I know. I look huge, but it's just ONE baby and I'm SURE I'm just 7 weeks. No, yeah, I'm sure.' Thanks for asking!

I spent about 4 hours walking around exploring and feeling good about how I looked. Showered, hair done, and a clean cute outfit. It wasn't until we home that I realized that brown streak on my belly was, in fact, poop from changing a diaper on the go. Oy!

But to my kids - I'm beautiful. I'm strong and fun. And I carried them - 10 months of 'mountain' climbing EACH. My body bears the battle scars of 30 hours of combined labor to bring the first two into the world. I don't always have time for make up and a blow dryer - or clothes that don't use the word 'sweat-____' to describe them. My hands and my feet are almost never manicured - or painted.  But, I do have time for kisses and hugs, discussions about animals and matchbox cars, and wiping tears. These are the things I care about - the things I wouldn't miss for the world. I have years and years to get my pre-baby figure back (Yikes! That was about 20 pounds ago....but, I digress. Let's get THIS little bundle healthy and out - then I'll work on losing [hopefully] a few of those!)

Us moms live a selfless life - and I'd give up even more if it meant that my children and husband could feel any  more loved or happier......