When all things work together for good...in my life

I have wanted to be a mother as long as I can remember.  Growing up, I played with dolls and Barbies and formed my own fantasy families.  Carebears and Cabbage Patch dolls made up a large family that I got to parent.  I got to feed, love and care for a big slew of "children."

God had created this longing in my heart.  He had a plan for me.  My calling has always been to be a mother.  (Bla. Bla. Bla.  You have heard it all before, right?  Pretty sure everyone knows how important being a mom is to me.)

In 2011, this dream was just beginning.  I had snagged the husband of my dreams.  I had a two year old daughter and a one year old son.  I had hopes for more children.  I desired a large and loud family.    

And my husband and I were on our way to that, until I walked into the breast care doctors office on February 28th.  That day I learned I had stage two breast cancer.  Estrogen positive. Progesterone positive.  Her-2 positive.  

From May 2011 to October 2012, I received chemotherapy.  I was told to be on birth control because a fetus would suffer dire consequences (deformities or death) if I got pregnant during my chemo.  After that, I was supposed to take tamoxifen, the drug that would decrease my levels of progesterone and estrogen, for five years.  

I was angry.  I mean, real angry.  It is isn't the right way to deal with things, but I put God on the "silent treatment."  I couldn't believe He had just given me my dreams, a new and young family, and then allowed me to be sick.  Allowed for me to be only able to watch my children play from my spot on the couch or hear their giggles down the hall from under my bedcovers. My husband had to do almost all the work parenting our babes, and I certainly wasn't being the mother I had dreamed to be.
I worried about not seeing children off to their first days of kindergarten, or whether they would remember me if I suddenly got a serious infection and died. (Morbid, yes.  But it is a reality for some.  I met a young woman and spent every Friday with her for months, as we lounged, talked and slept during treatments.  I saw her one week, and attended her funeral the next. Reality.  It hits, and hit me hard when she died.)
I was angry with God.  Because He gave me this calling to be a mother.  He instilled in me a desire to take care of children.  And here I was, laid up, barely able to take care of myself, worrying about leaving children motherless.  And even after chemo was finished my doctor's advice was not to have more pregnancies, because a pregnancy would increase the hormones that helped my specific type of cancer to grow.
I lost my breasts,my hair, and the ability for more children. Honestly, I grieved the loss of another pregnancy, or another biological baby, more than any other part of the cancer situation.   Some days I was bitter, other days I was depressed.
At that time, anyone would have said that that anger, the sadness, the disappointment was justified.

Here's the deal though- God has a purpose for everything.  And in the midst of a cancer diagnosis/ treatment, it is sure hard to see a silver lining.  It's easy to see that loss, and be hopeless.
Here's what God did for me: He gave me more children.  He didn't let my dream of a big family die.  After all, He had given me this calling.  He had placed the longing in my heart.  But He had more in store for me than I could have imagined, or planned for.
In 2013, a beautiful dark haired girl was born miles away and without my knowledge, but four days later a social worker carried her into my home.  Almost a year later, a judge declared her my daughter, as if I had given birth to her.  And I had loved her as if she was of my flesh since the moment she entered my life. 

The following month, I learned that I was pregnant.  Despite what doctors had advised, my husband and I were once again, excited for this new life.  Sadly a few weeks later, my child entered into the Heavenly realm before making her appearance on earth.  We grieved.  I cried from a deep inner pain that I never knew women felt with the loss of a miscarriage. 

 But my grieving was interrupted within a month when our last son was born, hours from our home, but with every one of his immediate family members at the hospital to meet him.  I watched him breathe his first breath and cry his first cry.  And I realized that THIS family, the one God created just for me, was my satisfied longing that I had held in my heart all my life.

Cancer didn't mess with my purpose, and it couldn't hold me back from being who I was made to be.  Cancer was just a detour that beautifully lead me to my destination.  Cancer created the urgency in my heart to adopt, and because of that, we were licensed foster parents in just the right time to take in our youngest daughter, and then her younger brother.  

Today, I am a mother to four wild, loud, God-loving children. And one precious child who lives in Heaven with our God, waiting for her Momma to come hold her in her arms for the first time.  

I can appreciate that my calling, my purpose, is the same here as it will be in Heaven. 

A Mother.

And if I get cancer again, I will better understand that it can't rob me of me. I won't childishly put God into the silent treatment.  I will be able thank Him for what He has taken and made good. 

My family is choosing to homeschool

I begin to write this blog with some trepidation.  A little bit of fear.

But Dan and I have decided that for next year, and many years after, our children will be homeschooled.

The curriculum is bought, a homeschool room is in the works, and this momma has been doing a lot of  reading...my husband would say, a lot of BUYING things, also.  :)

And although I am somewhat scared to begin this journey- who wouldn't be?  The success and failure of your precious children's learning is now solely on my shoulders! Ahh!- I have become very excited.  Looking at P's kindergarten curriculum and all the activities I will get to share with him that I know are right up his alley...and teaching A's US history course and incorporating my beloved American Girl book collection in with the readings... is FUN!

If you know me, you know that I LOVE our community.  Our town is a little slice of Heaven in my eyes.  And our school district is top notch.
So when people ask why we've chosen to homeschool, I think some either believe I dont like the public school system or that we've had some very big problem with something at the school A attended for kindergarten and first grade.
That simply isn't the case.  Her teacher was AMAZING and so loving last year and really helped her work through some vision issues that she had in the last part of the year, while she was patching her eye.
I dont have a great answer for why we are choosing this path.  The best I can give is that while I have had confidence in our schools in town, I also believe that my family would work best as a family unit united in the home setting.  I have run from the idea of homeschooling for over a year, because it seems SCARY.  I am not the most organized woman by nature.  I can imagine sibling wars throughout the day.  Will my kids become unsocialized, and not know how to be in the public setting? And what if my children dont learn well from me?

This homeschooling idea has been with me for several years.  I think it is a great system for families and provides so much freedom to teach what and how is best for the individual child.
That being said, it totally isn't feasible for some families where both parents need to {or want to} work... or for single parents.  Im lucky enough to not be in those categories.

BUT... I have also been eagerly planning the day when all my kids were in school, and I could pick up a part time job.  {I think Dan and I will always dream of a time when we aren't living paycheck to paycheck, depending on God to come through for our finances to all add up each month...But maybe thats the point.  We are SUPPOSED to depend on God to provide, right?!  Anyway, I digress....}

The homeschooling idea has followed me and several times this year when Alayna has struggled with self esteem/ insecurities, I have thought to myself, "Wouldn't this have been easier if she were just homeschooled?"
E.g. Since Alayna has a (very) lazy eye and poor vision, we've been working on different methods to help her.  Last year, we dilated her strong eye for three months, which didnt help at all, perhaps made things worse.  This year we are patching the good eye to strengthen the lazy eye.  Alayna, who generally has a very sensitive, slightly self conscious personality wanted to stay home when she first had to wear the patch.  She was afraid the boys would be mean to her.  But that weekend that we began the patches, I waited to see how she would feel about putting the patch on for church.  She put it on without hesitation.  When I asked her how she felt about going to church that day, she said, "I dont care. No one at church will make fun of me.  Everyone there knows Jesus and is nice."

Be still my beating heart.

I believe that our kids will thrive in a Christian environment, where Jesus is praised throughout the day,  and not stuffed into a box they can't open until they get outside school doors.

I think God has been telling me to homeschool, I have been running away from the responsibility.  And yet, God has chased me down, and finally, now, I am doing my best to listen and obey.

{And my little idea of obtaining a part time job has already panned out.  I am now providing daycare for the sweetest  little baby, and earning just a little extra for the family fun money.  So God is providing again...Trust in Him, and just watch what happens, folks. }

Since I have made the decision to teach my kids at home, I have grown this huge excitement for it.  And that nasty thing called fear is slipping away.  

{So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.  I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you and with my righteous right hand." Isaiah 41:10}

These days are just slipping away

As my two year old sat in her chair with an apple in hand and Jake and the Neverland Pirates on the tv, I crept quietly into my little boy's nursery.
I crawled into the room, and stayed next to side of his crib for several minutes.  And I stared at this beauty as he slept.  Breathing in and out with rosy cheeks and a bit of sweat dampened hair flattened to his head.

And then I started crying.

Because this boy, our fourth child, is IT.

He is the last baby I will watch sleep peacefully in a crib.

His ga-ga-ga's and dada-das are the last that will be babbled in this home.

Today, he began pulling himself up onto the couch (reaching for the xbox controller, of course).  That will be the last time I witness my child pull himself up for the first time.

And soon my husband and I will experience our last first steps, and our last first birthday.

Many days, when the day is in full speed ahead mode, I forget about how sweet these days are.  And that is the real tragedy of our current culture.  We have so many plans, are part of so many activities, own so many things that need cleaned, have long to do lists, and we never SLOW down.

It still feels like last month that my beautiful first princess came silently into the world, but she is nearing the end of her 1st grade year, her hair is longer than mine EVER has been, she is signed up for tumbling and soccer for the summer, she stomps down halls and slams doors like the best of them, she is sweet and caring and brutal and sassy all wrapped into one.

And it seriously seems like last week that we got three frantic calls (we missed the first two) at 4 am on a Sunday, and quickly woke, dressed and loaded 3 small kiddos in the minivan for a two hour ride to meet their baby brother.

Their baby brother.  The BABY of our family.

And though I cry today, and will cry probably 77 times 7 more times throughout this parenting journey at our children's "firsts"...and their "lasts," I am sure that this is right.  We were meant for these babies, and we are not intended to be parents to another newborn again.  So sure, that 24 hours after P was born, I had my tubes tied.  THAT sure, folks.

When I am knees deep in laundry, diapers and bottles, I silently wish that the kids were grown, potty trained, and able to raid the food cupboard on their own.

But not today.  Today was the last time I witnessed one of my children pulling themselves up.
And I am wishing time would slow down and that my baby would stay a baby forever.