I don't want my kids to be like me.

Some people want their kids to be like them.  I do not.  As the years have gone by more and more of my faults have come into plain view.  Don't get me wrong, I don't think I'm a bad person, nor do I wallow at who I have become.  I consider myself very blessed that God is merciful and He is still working on me.  I do have some good traits but, truth be told, I am a serious work in progress.  I had coffee with a very good friend a few weeks ago and I confessed to her how I have allowed myself to go about life expecting happiness.  One thing I have learned is that there is a difference between happiness and joy.  I wanted happiness which, to me, meant getting along with my husband, being a suzie homemaker, having my kids behave, getting ahead in life financially and doing things that I like to do.  Please do not get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with those things. What was wrong was that I got upset if those things did not happen.  A few weeks ago I had a conversation with some members of my family about heaven.  My dad (who is turning 70 next month) began telling us that he has been doing some serious thinking about death.  He is realizing that, even if he has many good years, death is approaching him.  I was very uncomfortable with that conversation until we got a bit deeper into it.  Death is reality.  If I really believe what I say that I believe, death should not make me uncomfortable.  Death is the end of life on this earth but it is the beginning of life with God.  Hmmmm, if heaven is all about angels playing harp music, opera sounding background voices, white robes and clouds, then I'm not so sure how I'm supposed to be excited about it.  Lucky for us, that's not what heaven is.  If I were to answer honestly, I don't really all that much about what heaven is going to be like but I have seen the faces of people who really, truly know God and how their eyes dance with a joy that flows from so deep within their soul.  My eyes don't do that.  That is why I don't want my kids to be like me.  However, God and I are doing some construction on my soul and hopefully one day my eyes can dance and radiate Gods love for my kids to see.  I am working of being "joyful in all circumstances".  I desperately want my kids to watch me face tough circumstances with a joy that is real.  I want to live like heaven is just around the corner.  I suppose it is.  Life is unpredictable.  What would my life look like if I lived with heaven as my goal?  What if I enjoyed all the wonderful things that life offers but instead of my life's goal being a dream house/a vacation/a large RRSP/ etc.... really living with my goal being heaven and bringing as many people with me as I possibly can.  What would my life look like then?  I'm not entirely sure, but I can tell you this.... if I could really live like that, then I would want my kids to be like me.

My Son's Name

We had a difficult time naming our son.  His middle name was a quick and easy decision.  He is named after his Grandpa, my dad (more on that to come) but it was really important to me that our son have his own first name.  No matter how great our son's namesake is, it was really important to me that he be identified by his own name because, as much as I would like him to be like his grandfather, I want him to carve out a place in the world with his own name.  So, we named him Timothy which means "honoring God'.  If I were only allowed to pray for one thing for my son, it would be that he would choose to live his life bringing honor and glory to God.  That he would know God as his father and that he would live a blessed life as a result of honoring God in all he says and does.  I wish I were better at that....  I desperately want my son to be better than me.

Timothy's middle names are William Josef.  William means "determined guardian" and Josef means "God will add, God will increase".  As amazing as both those meanings are, we did not give Timothy those names because of their meanings.  We gave him those names because of the man with those names who came before him.  In my humble opinion, my dad is an amazing man.  He came to Canada when he was 19 years old with a grade 8 education and unable to speak any English.  He worked hard and made a life for himself, and for his family.  He always provided for our family, usually more than we needed.  He taught my sisters and I to be strong, smart, loving, determined, educated women (with my mom's help, of course ;) ).  I appreciate the life that my dad provided for me and the example that he set.  But more than all of that, as I look back at my life and at my current life, I appreciate who my dad is as a person and what he means to me.  My dad loves me.  Never once in my life have I ever doubted that.  As an insecure kid, my dad would sit me in front of the mirror before school and make me say "I am just as good and just as smart as all the other kids".  I eventually believed it, not because I repeated it so much, but because I knew my dad believed it.  My dad moved part of his construction company to western Canada when I was younger and as a result, he had to miss my birthday one year.  The next year, as my birthday drew new, he was out west again.  I cried.  He caught a plane and came home for my birthday.  When I was in Jr High, I began to get involved in sports.  My dad came to the majority of my games and cheered so loud that other parents in the crowd were concerned that he would have a heart attack.  When I was pregnant with Lillian, we had some devastating news that she might not make it full term.  The day after I found out, my dad had a bad accident and ended up in the hospital with a fractured skull.  Two days after that I got some test results back that indicated that Lillian was most likely ok.  It was not a 100% guarantee and I was still feeling a little nervous.  I went to the hospital to visit my dad that day.  After telling him about the results, I remember very clearly my dad looking at me and saying, "Those are good odds.  I'd take them".  That was the moment that I felt like everything was going to be alright.

I trust my dad because he has never given me any reason not to.  I love my dad because he has always shown me love through the time he spent with me.  I talk to my dad because he always wants to talk to me.  I love being around my dad because he always smiles when I walk into a room.  I love asking my dad for advice because he always gives me his best.  I love giving my dad gifts because he never expects them but always appreciates them.  I once found a folder in my dad's desk that had notes and pictures that my sisters and I had given him over the years as we were growing up.  My dad and I do not often hug.  We rarely tell eachother "I love you".  But, there is no doubt in my mind that my dad loves me, my mom and my sisters.

I want my son to be like that.

Done.... but not sure how I feel about it.

So, I quit.  Yep, I am officially finished breastfeeding.  I apologize to anyone out there who may find this post a little awkward or too personal...... I suggest you just stop reading.  After 10 weeks of feeding my baby 7-8 times a day in pain, I quit.  I really did give it a valiant effort.  I fought through pain so bad that I almost passed out, I saw the health nurse four times, I saw the lactation consultant 6 times, I went to the breastfeeding clinic for several weeks, I tried medication, I tried creams, I tried experimental creams, I dyed my nipples purple and nothing ever helped.  I was so determined to make breastfeeding work this time around but once again, I failed after only two months.  I know there are women out there who will tell me that I did my best and I pushed through a lot of pain and that there is no shame in switching to formula, but I still feel like a failure.  Why is it so easy for some women and how do some women get past the pain?  What on earth does it feel like to breastfeed your baby without pain? 

On Saturday morning I woke up for the 5th time in 10 hours to nurse my baby and I finally just cried.  The thought of fighting through more pain was just too much.  I looked at my husband and said "I'm done" and he looked back and me and said "ok".  Then we went and bought formula.  I thought I would feel relieved.  I thought that once I decided to quit breastfeeding I would embrace my decision and be proud of myself for all the hard work I put in over the last two months.  But, I don't.  It's been four days since I made that decision and it still haunts me.  My body is slowly realizing that there is no longer a baby needing milk from his mother and it's slowly depleting its supply.  But every time I think that maybe I shouldn't have given up, my body kicks in and gets ready to feed a baby.  How on earth am I supposed to feel good about my decision when it feels like my body doesn't want to quit?  Will I ever feel good about this decision?  If I kept on going would the pain eventually get better?  What if I keep fighting and months down the road I am still miserable and in pain?  There are no answers to my questions so until my body finishes depleting its supply I fear that I will have to live in this land of limbo where I hold back tears while I question my decision a hundred times a day.

All of you mothers out there who are able to breastfeed, feel blessed. 

Guilt

I have realized that I never knew what guilt was until I had kids.  It seems like I have felt consistently guilty for weeks now.  Now that Timothy is here I have not had as much time to spend with Lillian and I feel like I am always telling her to wait.  I'm either doing laundry, making a meal, changing a diaper, feeding the baby, or trying to drink a cup of coffee.  I wish I had more time to spend with her.  Then I realized something.  Lillian doesn't really care what she does with me, she just wants to do something with me.  So, I have had to push my clean-freak and control-freak tendencies aside and let my little girl help me out.  She wants so badly to help me cook, clean, and take care of Timothy.  So what if the laundry is folded funny or she gets sauce on her clothes while she helps me cook?  Why have things like that always been a big deal to me.  So what if she brings downstairs toys upstairs?  Wow, I really am a control freak because even saying that makes my skin crawl.  It is not time to be a control-freak when you have small kids.  I need to start letting Lillian do more and help more so that she feels like she is part of our family.  A few weeks ago I said something to Lillian and I realized that I was beginning to feel like she was getting in the way.  If I felt like that, imagine how she felt!  It was probably one of the worst moments of my life when I realized that.  So, I am resolved to let my house be a bit messy, let my clothes wrinkle, and not worry whether Lillian is getting dirty while she eats or plays.  My kid is SO much more important to me than any of those things and I do not want to look back at my life and realize that I had a very clean house but it was at the expense of time with my kids.  No sirree, I am a mom first and a maid second ;)  So, if you come for a visit at my house in the future, it will be messy and I will make no apologies because my kids will be happy and loved.

I'll Admit It

My second child is a boy.  I didn't realize how much I thought it was going to be a girl until my baby was four weeks old and I saw a woman with two little girls and I was jealous.  Not just a little jealous.  I felt like something I had dreamed about was taken away from me.  I am from a family of three girls and I guess I just always thought that I would have all girls as well.  I didn't.  When my little boy was six weeks old I still wasn't over the shock.  I started to feel very nervous because I was still having a difficult time with the fact that my baby was a boy.  Yep, I'm a terrible mother.  But then it happened.  I was rocking my little boy to sleep last week and I looked at him and realized that I am madly in love with him.  Not just a little in love, madly in love.  And, I love the fact that he is a boy.  I love absolutely everything about him.  I will admit that it took a while, and I am ashamed of that, but there is no way that I would change anything about my kids.  I love my big girl and I love my little boy just as much.

Saying Goodbye

Twenty three years ago I walked into my grade one classroom and met a cute little girl who, unknown to me, would become one of my very best friends.  Today I spent the evening with that cutie (who is now a beautiful woman) and another great friend.  We went out for dinner and ended up spending over four hours talking.  We talked about our lives, our kids, our husbands, and anything else we could think of.  It was a night I don't think I will ever forget because we talked about things I have never talked about with anyone else.  I realized tonight that one of the greatest blessings in my life are these two friends.  We have all know eachother for over two decades.  That cute little girl and I went to school together, got married around the same time, had kids around the same time (our daughters are only 4 days apart) and bought minivans around the same time ;) The other friend and I have had similar experiences together.  There are no other people in the world that I can be as honest and vulnerable with.  There are few people that I have laughed with like I have laughed with these two.

That cute little girl is now moving away.  Two provinces away.  Three years ago she moved only five minutes from my house.  That fall we went on numerous walks to try and induce labour.  She had her baby on a Saturday and I had mine the following Wednesday in the same hospital.  Our houses were so close that our little girls were going to be in the same elementary school just like their mommies.  My little girl loves her kids.  She talks about them and often asks if we can go play with them.  This week I told her that her friends are moving away and we wont be able to play with them very often.  She seemed ok with the idea but I'm not.  I know the first time she asks if we can play with them after they move I will break down into tears.  She may not understand it yet, but it's hard to watch friends move away.  I know we will always keep in touch and visit one another, but it's not the same.  That's why tonight was so special.  I am going to miss having my wonderful friend so close by but I feel so blessed to have her in my life, no matter where she lives.

Perspective

I feel like I have spent the last five weeks complaining.  I'm not getting enough sleep, my c-section incision is sore, my toddler is having temper tantrums, my husband is not helping as much as I would like him to, my mom is out of town all month.... The list could go on and on.  A few days ago I felt like I hit a brick wall.  A family that we know of was on vacation and their 5 year old fell in the pool.  She was revived but unresponsive.  This morning, she died.  Sleep, c-section, tantrums.... all seem insignificant.  I am awake at night with my baby who is healthy, growing and in my arms.  I have a wound in my midsection that is there because doctors were able to intervene to save my baby and I.  My toddler's temper tantrums can be dealt with... she is healthy and I can hold her whenever I want. Today my problems are beginning to feel like blessings and out there a mother is grieving and I'm sure she would gladly take my problems over the unimaginable grief that she is facing.  My prayer today is peace for a grieving family and a hope that we continue to look at our "problems" as blessings.  Please join your prayers with ours so that we can stand together alongside a family who could really use them right now.