A Love Letter

 This is my 100th post on this blog and I thought about doing something cool to celebrate, but that wasn't what was in my heart. So, yay for 100 posts...let's move on....

My husband and I were talking this evening in the van, where we have many of our most meaningful conversations. I was telling him some things that have been in my heart for the past few days. I feel like God wants me to go deeper with some of the things I write on my blog, but I don’t really know if I’m ready to expose so much of myself. But then again, I can’t really ignore it.  One thing I mentioned to him was how I feel more appreciative of God’s grace and love, having experienced some true  lows in my life.  So, I sit here tonight, praying and this is what is in my heart. It is a love letter to God.

It was dark and cold. I was so forlorn. My soul was desolate and I was unyielding, though I knew the truth.

I disregarded all I knew. All the verities I knew of You. I made the choice to keep about my ways; despite my loss of joy and my pain.

Sometimes the truth isn’t always easy to embrace. Sometimes it is easier to make the wrong choice. Yet You remain, steadfast and true.

Then I truly experienced your grace. I allowed you to overtake me and pursue the depths of my soul. You embraced me and showed me love, like I’ve never experienced before. Because this time, I was ready to accept that love. You have always loved me the same, but I’m a rather obstinate creature.  I ran away from your love.

So here I am, still open to receiving that outpouring of love. It has made me a new creation. I love others differently because I want to see them how You see them -beautiful souls made in your image.

I am nothing without You and I have everything because of You. It is in You that I place my trust. My faith. My life. I am Yours and I’m no longer lonely. I have a peace that comes only from You.  You are Good and I’m glad I am Yours.

Randomness for March

I haven't felt really random lately, but I am tonight. Probably because I'm bored. My husband isn't home and I haven't seen him all day because he left before I work up for the day. My children are in bed and I'm slowly sipping a glass of wine and I really want to snack, but my thighs don't need me to snack.

I often have to remind myself that the little things may not make sense, but they will add up to the big picture. That seems to have been my motto for this past week. The Big Picture. 

I'm really excited that I'm going to Bonnaroo for the first time ever this summer! I'm going to camp with my niece, Amanda, whom I love dearly. I have some super cool friends going as well. Since I have been a mom to three children, I have not been away from them. Actually, I don't think I've been away from my children since Kadie has been born. I really need this break. It is still three months away. Sam isn't weaned yet, so I will take my pump and I am pretty worried about how that will work out. Chris said if he gets too crazy, he will bring him to me so I can nurse him.  I mostly excited about seeing Phish since they were one of my favorites in my early twenties. I'm pretty excited about several of the bands and looking forward to finding new musicians.


I've made my spring cleaning list and even if I work diligently on it every day, I think it is going to take me two months to complete. We have a lot of projects that need to be done. We have quickly outgrown our home and I feel like all I do is reorganize rooms to make them more efficient.

I really want to adopt a child from China. Not this year, but within the next several years. I started researching the country requirements last night. It is hella expensive. Going to keep praying for open doors and signs. Our current house wouldn't really accommodate another child, so many things will have to change.

So, I'm starting to run again. I'm only really a week into it. I'm absolutely determined to be able to run a 5K by this summer. It really has nothing to do with weight loss. I mean, I'd love to lose weight, but I just want to be able to run without stopping.

If we end up getting Harrison a keyboard or piano for his birthday, I'm totally learning to play with him. I have ALWAYS wanted to know how to play the piano. Just because I'm about to be 35, doesn't mean a thing.

Speaking of 35....ugh. Seriously. How is that even possible? It makes me want to vomit. I don't really feel 35. Many days I feel mentally feel like a 12 year old. Most days, I probably act like a 70 year old. Ha. But seriously, Chris better make this depressing birthday extra special or I just might lock myself in my bathroom with a bottle of wine. (Chris - take this as your written hint that I need extra attention on this birthday to deal with my depression of being old). Chris actually asked me last night that if we already act like we are 70, how will we really act when we are 70? I should add, that he is equally the mental 12 year old that I am, and has the actions of a 70 year old. We were truly made for each other.

I really love my fleece owl PJ's that I'm wearing. These happen to be the exact same pants I had to wear inside of Battle Academy because Harrison was late and I had to walk him into the office for his pass. (Note to self: change into sweat pants tomorrow morning, just in case the owl PJs are some kind of bad omen)

This morning, I took a picture of our giant mound of laundry and texted it to Chris. The message attached said, "I've been involved with Laundry since I was a teenager. This weekend, I tried hard to ignore Laundry because I feel like I spend more time with Laundry than I do with you. Well, Laundry simply will not leave me alone. I can't get away from Laundry. So as much as I hate to say this, I'm never going to be able to kick Laundry out of my life and I hope you can forgive me. :)"

I'm thankful he gets my warped sense of humor and understands this weird unwanted affair I have with Laundry. I'd actually really like to break up with Laundry, but dang it...Laundry won't go away.

I will end this post on that note. For anyone who made it this far...thanks! haha.

2 months later

Just over 2 months ago is when we got the news. The news that our son has Asperger's Syndrome.  Honestly, it is hard to believe it has been 2 months. I'm going to be brutally honest in this blog post. Just warning you now. 

Just over 2 months I started the grieving process for a son that I would never have. You see, when I was pregnant with him, I had all of these dreams. Dreams of an all-American rough and tumble boy with rugged good looks. He would give me bear hugs and wrestle with his Daddy. He would have lots of friends. And then after he was born and became a toddler, I knew how smart he was. I starting dreaming of additional things...like how he was going to change the world with his intelligence. I wasn't sure how, but I dreamed of many scenarios. And in case you haven't figured it out, I'm quite the dreamer, probably to a fault.

As he continued to grow and get older, I realized how different he was. It worried me. I told our pediatrician at one of his well checks (either 18 or 24 months) that I thought he had autism. I was assured that he was just a genius and quirky. As he got older, social things weren't as easy for him. He didn't have many friends. Although he was very kind hearted, he was also quite contrary and didn't get along very well with many people. The tantrums and meltdowns got worse. I felt like a failure as a mother. I mentioned it to a few pediatricians (we had some insurance changes and had to hop around for a bit) and they all seemed to believe it was due discipline techniques. We tried everything. Nothing really consistently worked. Even through all of this, my dream of how he was going to be always stayed in the back of my mind.

Fast forward to when he began kindergarten. Early on in kindergarten, we were asked to write a letter about our child so that the teacher could understand and get to know our child better. Mine was like a novella. I didn't realize it at the time, but I'm almost certain most people might have had one or two paragraphs. I just couldn't sum him up in a brief note. He has always been complex. He had a great year. Made lots of friends. I was even told he was a social butterfly. I felt maybe he was growing into his quirks. Things were getting better. My dreams started returning.

Then as he entered his first grade year, things got worse. He was angry all of the time. So much so, that we were really concerned. He started some really unusual behaviors that seemed to interfere with his daily behavior. He didn't have many friends and felt that kids were teasing him or didn't like him. He began to cry every morning before school. Things weren't right. I knew in my heart that something was indeed different.

So at the end of the year, we had some testing done. The results were given to us on January 4, 2012.. All of my dreams went crashing down. I will never forget that day. Never. It was a relief and it was paralyzing all at the same time. And I grieved. And grieved some more. Because this ideal of this "perfect" son was not him. It was never going to be him. He simply isn't that child. It is going to take behavioral and occupational therapy to help him through his struggles. But Asperger's isn't just about struggles. It is so much more than that. And it doesn't mean that he isn't awesome. He just isn't going to be that all-American boy.

But here is the thing. I'm okay with that. Chris and I aren't those people. We are weird and quirky and have made a happy little home in all of our weirdness. We will never be that all-American family with a white picket fence and 2.5 kids. Quite frankly, I'm 100% okay with it. Harrison is perfect for our family. He is going to do great things one day and more than likely because he has Asperger's. Because of the focus and drive he has on things that interest him, he will absolutely do great things. Because he has a gift that not many people have. So this thing. This syndrome. This diagnosis. It is what makes my son who he is. He is awesome and I love him. And he may never be great at small talk. He may never have many friends. But he makes me laugh. He is so funny, without even trying. And when he hugs me, or sits in my lap, I realize what a big deal it is. He amazes me every day. And some days there is a whole lot of ugly stuff to get through, but it is worth it. And every day the grieving of this "perfect" son consumes me a little less and I learn to embrace and love my sweet and special son just as he is.