Ten Years of Sunshine

 Miss Norah,

You just hugged me goodnight, and I reminded you that you’re one of the best things that ever happened to me.  You went to your bed, one last time as a nine-year-old, with a glimmer in your eye that sparkles the anticipation of tomorrow.

I don’t know if I’ve told you in person how I’ve always thought of you as my Sunshine baby.  Your oldest brother was my first miracle and the answer to a lifetime of prayers.  After he was born, I lost a baby while I was pregnant.  When a baby is born after a loss like that, the next child born is considered a rainbow baby.  Your second brother was the rainbow after the storm.

You, my girl, have always been the sunshine that followed. 

I know I have told you how you were a big surprise, from the moment I found out I was pregnant with you, to the ultrasound where I was told you were a girl (after I was so certain I was meant to be a “boy mom” and never have a daughter), to the day you were born where you proved to me you really are a girl.  You were unexpected to me, but God knew what He was doing, and you were the perfect completion to my set of answered prayers.  

You have always brought the sunshine.  You bring it to me, but also to others.  You sparkle and you shine from the inside outward.  You have the most brilliant heart of gold, seeing what others often miss or overlook, and make sure that people who might go unnoticed see that they are important.  So many times, you’ve asked to give money, food, a hug, a gift, a blanket, your time, and your love to those around you- whether you know them or not.  You make my own heart swell with pride.

You are not only my daughter, but in some ways, you’re my friend.  You are my sidekick for errands, snuggles, and creating.  You have an amazing sense of humor and joyous laughter.  You sing your heart out every single day.  You are ready for pranks and silliness but also for serious talks and matters of the heart.

You are a delight to your brothers, even when you may not be getting along.  They have always been fierce protectors and know that you are their own. You reciprocate the same for them, and it blesses me to know that you will always have each other’s backs even when I’m not around.  

You brighten the lives of your extended family and your friends.  Animals love you too!  It’s amazing to see how so many are drawn to you and appreciate what you bring to this world.

The last year has been wonderful, but also sometimes a struggle, for as you start to mature, I’m having to get to know new sides of you.  Your interests and style have begun to change, and I must admit, when it first started, it threw me for such a loop that I felt maybe I was living in a dream.  The predictability of your long-time childhood passions began to fade away to reveal what your young lady heart and mind find joy in now.  

Because you are my only daughter, its taken some getting used to new facets of your personality, some of the sass, and unpredictability of older-girl emotions.  I pray that as you continue to grow and some things continue to change, we will both be blessed with unlimited patience and compassion for one another as we figure it all out together.  Your brothers are included in that prayer too.  In some ways, now that you are all growing up to be big kids, preteens, and teenagers, we are all getting to know each other in news ways all over again.  Some days this home is definitely chaotic and we feel a little overwhelmed, but I’m so grateful we are all lead by love and Jesus and I know we can get through any tough times together.

I know from experience that being a ten-year-old girl is not always easy.  I know that being in fourth and fifth grade with other girls can be a challenge and like riding an emotional rollercoaster set up inside of an unpredictable wave pool. I pray that your heart doesn’t take anything thrown your way as an attack on your identity, and you’re always able to remember that the other girls your age are all going through similar things alongside you, and it can just be a stormy mess sometimes.  There will be rainbows and sunshine after the storms if you hold on tight- I promise.

I have loved watching you flourish academically, artistically, musically, socially, and in your faith.  You are a gem with so many beautiful facets.

As we close out your first decade of life, I hope that you know I am always on your side, even when you might not see or feel that is truth.  I pray you never let the world dull your sparkle and extinguish your light.  I pray the atmosphere changes when you walk into a room because you carry the love of Jesus within you.  I pray that you find your tribe and make lifelong memories that you can look back on when you’re an older woman, like the many I share with you about my years as a young girl. 

I love you, Miss Norah.  I’m so grateful for the ten years of Sunshine I’ve already been given. I cannot wait to see what’s in store.

I’m so glad you’re mine.

Love you most.

-Mom

The last single digit..

 Miss Norah,

The day is almost near. It's a day you've been waiting for somewhat patiently for months. Your birthday. Again. Didn't you just have one? And must you keep reminding me that you are turning nine?

Nine. My baby girl, my unexpected sunshine, is on the verge of her last single-digit birthday. You won't stop reminding me. I can't believe I've been a mom this long. 

The last year has been a year of growth in many ways. You seem so much taller, your hair thicker, darker, straighter. You're less baby-faced and more muscular. You're so strong, physically, mentally, and emotionally. You have faced your biggest academic struggles head on and threw down the walls of your heart in order to conquer them. 

You are such a compassionate little sister to both of your brothers. When someone picks on one, you stand by his side. You know how to calm him, reach him, and understand him, when sometimes even I don't. You are one of his safest spaces, even if some days you do more fighting than laughing. You have such forgiveness in your heart for when you are wronged. 

You know how to pester your oldest brother in a way that's filled with love, and the two of you have such a great relationship in that way. You stand up for him, but also to him when necessary, and you keep each other accountable. 

The three of you are a beautiful team. You've begun to grow in your communication skills, relating, and friendship, just as you've been growing in your capacity to irritate each other. Clearly, God made you to be a unit. 

Your almost nine years of experience living through hard situations alongside your brothers and I has helped you to be such a kind cousin and friend. 

Every one of the cousins you spend time with adores you for various reasons. You may be older than all but one of them, but you love each of them well for who they are, and you can tell how much they appreciate who you are. I adore watching you play together. I love that your cousins are some of your best friends. 

Your friends are so blessed as well. You have friends of all different ages, races, backgrounds, and abilities, and you treat each one with value and respect. Your experiences with your brothers have shaped your compassion and empathy and ability to embrace and cherish other kids who are neurodivergent which is something that the world needs more of and I am certain you are lighting the way for others around you. 

I love your heart for the suffering of others. When we see people on street corners holding up signs, you always want to help. Tonight, when we watched "the Hunchback of Notre Dame " you were filled with tears in the first few minutes as your heart broke for the injustice and suffering of one person cast out from the world. You spent most of the movie voicing how unkind people were and how unfair it was, because Quasimodo was beautiful to you with his cute, misshapen face. Your heart hurts for the hurting and you are not too proud to say so. I love watching you come alongside those who may be struggling, overlooked, or feel broken. 

This past year has been surreal in the way that you have become my little friend, not only my daughter. Sometimes, that's hard for you, when I have to parent in ways you don't appreciate, but as I have reminded, I'll always be your mom first, and friend second. But the development of our friendship has been such a blessing to both of us. I love sitting in the car with you to run errands as we laugh hysterically about something silly we said, or thought the other said, or a funny comment on the radio. We share similar interests in crafting and smoothies and have had many a date just the two of us when the boys turn us down. It's been a true delight. 

As you continue to mature, you continue to develop your own brand of sass and stubbornness, which while appreciated in some ways like in knowing you'll be able to stand your ground when you need to in years to come, and you won't just let others push you over and trample you, it has also been a bit of a struggle for me, learning to grow and figure out how to walk through it with you. In so many ways, I've found you are not like your brothers, and the things in little girl world are complex and deep many times. The one perk to going through these developments with you is that I too was a young girl once, so I relate just a little more than I do to some of the boys similar, but differing struggles. I have had to tell them that I was never a young boy, so sometimes I may need more clarity and understanding to know what is going on in their hearts and minds. 

Pip, I pray that this next year is absolutely splendid. I pray that it's filled with so much emotional rainbows and sunshine that you can hardly stand it. I pray that you can look back and see how far you've come in overcoming things in the past, and it gives you fortitude and courage for the future. 

I pray that your friendships continue to strengthen, despite the way young girl friendships ebb and flow, bend and break but then reform again, coming and going much like a tide. In the same way, I pray that those dearest friendships remain constant, also like the tide. 

I pray that you continue to see your inner and outer beauty in a world full of mirrors that are filtered to bring you down. I pray you see through that and only hold onto the mirrors that show the truth, and that builds you up. I pray I've done a good enough job filling your emotional storehouse of self-worth that you will never, ever believe you are anything less than beautiful and worthy. 

I pray the cats accidentally scratch you less and snuggle you more. I pray they really do eventually want to take pictures with you like you want to take pictures with them. 

I pray that as you and your brothers approach big years of growth, you remember who you all are deep down inside, and you can approach each other with mercy and endless grace. 

I pray that you hear the truth Jesus has spoken about you, and you hear his whispers regularly. 

Baby girl, not so much a baby, but yet, always my baby, 

I love you. 

You love me more...

But as I've told you, that's not possible. 

Happy birthday, Norah B. 

Love,

Momma

Begin Again

 This year, as we are all aware, has been one unlike any other.  That sounds so cliche because every year is different, but with an on-going pandemic still taunting our lives, there have been so many events we have never faced before.

The school year is no different.  In-person learning, locally, ended abruptly in March right about the time that I came down with covid-19.   The week I awaited my test results and gradually became sicker, we attempted the distance learning model at home.  When I became so sick I could hardly breathe sitting still, let alone walk around the apartment or deal with school work, we quit for multiple weeks.  

The children never went back to their classrooms again, not even to pick up school supplies.  Everything was handled outside the school building.  Playgrounds and parks were closed.  Swimming pools never opened.  The summer was also, one we had never experienced before.  As I have still been dealing with lasting effects of a six week fever from covid-19 and subsequent pneumonia, then a break and two weeks fighting off bronchitis, I have worked very little at my job, and we have been at home more than we have since I was a stay-at-home-mom six years ago.

What simultaneously seemed like suddenly and also ages later, the school year approached.  

Locally, the decision was made for the kiddos at our elementary school to have two separate first days, divided alphabetically.  That meant that my littles had their first day back inside the school building this past Friday.

They had been excited, nervous, anxious, and occasionally dreaded going back.  There were so many changes happening this year.  Masks are expected for students and faculty, and although not mandatory, we are told that if your child doesn’t wear a mask, they’ll be repeatedly asked to put one on, questioned, and parents may be contacted.  (Side note: this is not a mask debate, so please do not start one.). Each of my children’s classes will be eating lunch in their classrooms this year.  The playground has been divided into sections, and none of the classrooms in each grade level are permitted to play together during recess.  Visitors are restricted.  The sick policy is very stringent... so forth and so on.

So, when we prepared for school to begin, there was a lot to process.  Truthfully, having survived the virus, although it’s still causing me issues, my children and I have looked the potential fatality of it straight in the face and come out the other side, so I haven’t felt worried or anxious about sending my children to school. I know the risks involved, and I’ve heard all sides of the debates going on.  It was the right choice for my family for my children to return to school.

The first day of school for my children was riddled with initial excitement, some grumpiness, a little rain, a little sunshine, typical first day photos, and a fun new addition in that they were able to take a photo with their future step-sister, who also started the same day, and is now going to the same school they are.  As we walked to the school, knowing that unlike years past, we could not wait together on the playground, and children could not play on the playground before school, their nerves started rising slightly.  As we approached the doors they will enter this year and pulled up their masks over their noses, both boys hugged me and walked in with slight-to-no-hesitation.  Their sister was a different story.  She cried and clung to momma as hard as she could, eventually taking the hand of a friend and going inside.

I cried as I walked away.  It was not tears of fear or anxiety.  It was tears of letting go, tears of change, tears of momma-hood.

I was fortunate to pick them up for daycare myself, and each ran out of the school with a smile.  We talked about the days and they all reported that the first day was good.  The only complaint came from the middle kiddo.  There’s a nut allergy in his classroom and because they are eating inside the classroom, this year he cannot have peanut butter or Nutella, which is his favorite sandwich combination.  After researching and connecting with the proper faculty, we decided on Wow-butter and jelly as an alternative.  I sampled it and thought it tasted nearly identical.  I did not tell him about the swap because I was sure that if I did he wouldn’t give the sandwich a chance.

The report, his day was “good but there was something wrong with the sandwich at lunch.”  He took two bites and declared that to his classroom.  I tried it again today with more jelly.  We shall see what the report is.  He knows the science behind acquiring a taste for new foods, because he’s told me all about it before.  Somehow, the boys seem to think that it doesn’t apply to them personally however.  

Today was the second day of school.  Due to a light work schedule this week, I am able to walk them to their doors again.  This morning went more breezily, and there were less tears from the little miss.  There was more sunshine in the sky and less supplies in the backpacks.  There were still masks on the faces, but bigger smiles in the eyes.  Hopefully, there will be less wow-butter sandwich left in the box.

Littered Dates

The months of March and April are littered with dates that pack so much significance. Many, I often wish I could forget.

There are some wonderful dates of course, some family birthdates, including my daughter's. But even that brings a pain to my heart to reflect on. 

That date hurts, because her father was hardly present for much of my pregnancy, and even though he was there for her birth... I realize looking back, he wasn't really present.   In fact, he was halfway across the room just moments before she was born and almost missed it.  

Then he was there, for a while, sort of, off and on, for months.

And then he wasn't.  And I spent months and months wondering, fighting, trying all I could to figure it out, get it back, move on, etc.

A year ago today, I decided it must actually be over, and I knew deep down I should look into a divorce, because he was just stringing me along and he wasn't going to do it himself.  It took me quite a few days, until I finally met with my caseworker at the transitional housing/homeless shelter we were living at and told her my decision.   That was March 18.

On March 21, he showed up right outside our housing before the kids and I had to be inside for bed.  He seemed different, and told me he wanted to try and reconcile the family.  I was blown away.   The next day, I met with him, without the kids, and he confessed his many wrongs that he had done against me and our marriage.  There were dark secrets, huge mistakes, and shocking facts.  But he told me he hit rock bottom, explained when and how and the person he met and talked to that made him realize his huge mistakes and how badly he wanted and needed his family back.  He asked for my forgiveness, and I gave it to him. I told him my terms for trying to mend things and how it was going to be difficult, intense work.  He told me he was all in.

Easter happened on April 5 last year, Easter has always been one of my favorite holidays.  We were given the opportunity to spend it at a friend's house, together.  I didn't know it at the time, but it would be the last real holiday we spent together.

Our daughter's due date came, which was the date we set for her first birthday party.  He showed, but he was incredibly late, and it took near begging to get him to actually arrive.  He left quickly, secretively, and in a hurry, and did not return like he promised he would.

Her birthday was April 15.  We met up with him for what would be the last birthday the children spent with him.  He agreed to meet us at the mall for cake and play time.  He stayed possibly an hour and then had to hurry off.

The very next day, while I was at work, I was contacted by a man I had never heard of, nor met, asking how to reach him.  I asked this guy how he knew my husband. He said he was his boyfriend of a month.  I felt the earth shatter below me, my heart crumble, and my throat close off.  I trembled, lightheaded, thinking I may pass out.  When I was given a chance, I ran to the bathroom without a word, where I fell apart, sobbing in a stall.

I confronted him.  He told me he wasn't dating this man, and that they were friends, and the guy was obviously just trying to make a mess of our marriage now that we were trying to reconcile.  I met him on April 18th, my youngest sister's birthday,where he gave me a much more detailed explanation and his plan as to how he would prove that it wasn't true and he was wholeheartedly trying to stay married and get his kids back.  He swore to me he wouldn't talk to this guy again.

I decided to try to believe him, but I was incredibly reserved because his story and plan seemed suspicious.

It's a year later, and all of these "anniversary" dates are coming up.  I try not to think of them, but somehow they're embedded inside my heart. They're like a bad tattoo scar that's trying to heal.  I know that they may always be there, but I pray that they will fade, peacefully and quickly.

My heart and mind have always operated in this fashion.  I try not to dwell on dates, but dates are important in our society and when I see them on the date that big events happen, I remember them.  I always have.  And when each year passes, the memories flash back in movie fashion, and I try to fast forward through them so I can move onto what coming up next.  But it isn't always easy.

I don't write this to air our "laundry," but rather to process it myself, and to be able to hopefully prepare my heart and my mind for the days ahead.  Often, when I get things out through my blog, it is therapeutic in that way, and I am much less likely to be blindsided by potent emotions.

I guess we will see.

Each year will be easier, I know, from experiences in the past.  I will try to enjoy Easter this year without too many flashbacks, as well as our daughter's second birthday.  They're two of the greatest dates littered amongst the many.

As I know from experience, also, God is on my side, and when my legs give out and my tears cloud my eyes, He will pick me right up and carry me through.

Harnessed in

It would be amazing if I could just jump right off this emotional rollercoaster I seemed strapped into.

I am terrified of rollercoasters. I've never ridden one, not in a carnival ride sense anyway.

There's something that makes me want to curl into a ball on the ground seeing images of people hanging upside down hundreds of feet in the air... And enjoying it, nonetheless. I feel like I would be latched onto the person next to me with a Hercules grip as soon as the ride started.  Yes, indeed, I am that sort of ninny.

That said... I seem to be firmly seated on a never ending emotional rollercoaster. I try to believe it will end, the motor will stop at some point or some gears will fail... though ideally I would like it to end peacefully on even ground where I am not at the pinnacle of its height or at the edge of a drop off.

I do not remember buying a ticket. I don't remember any sign qualifying my seat by reaching a certain height requirement. I certainly don't remember willingly taking a front row seat and waving at my family and friends as I said "oh yeah, I got this!"

And somehow... In a dazed stupor or love-blinded moment of ecstasy, here I am.

This rollercoaster accelerates at top speeds, and then suddenly slows like a bogged down crawl through molasses. It's exhausting. 

I haven't figured out the control panel yet. I am not sure who is steering it. It seems like it must be me, because I feel like if I was letting God be the conductor, it would look more like a railroad track through southwestern Minnesota than a rickety, loopy amusement park ride.  

I sit here, going from a moment of joy to a moment of sadness, and I find myself in a struggle to regain control of the ride. Then, I realize the power struggle, and I call out to God to take over. Sometimes, I cry harder, other times, I relax in my seat finally. And then it's a nice, steady chug forward.

You know, until the music changes and a lullaby plays "God bless mommy and matchbox cars. God bless dad and thanks for the stars." and it reminds me that my children's dad chose to disappear completely, and I'm alone, and the whir starts and the wind howls through my hair as the tears start streaming again.

Then, I think about the joy in my boys' laughter as I tell them tomorrow, someone is going to take the two of them somewhere super special and exciting just because he loves them so very much, and how overwhelmed with gratitude and love I am knowing that there's someone out there who desires to do these things just because he wants to. Of course, because this track is as such, it leads to realizing how infuriating and depressing it is that their own father can't be bothered to have contact with them, let alone do something special with them.  I pray to God to ease that heartache for all of us, again, and I find the beauty in the extended family He has provided.

So, I go back to my new, self-proclaimed current athem, and it sings, 

Among other lyrics, and I realize I've been trying to masque my presence on this rollercoaster for the past few days, mainly because I didn't want to burden anyone by asking for company, and because this nagging liar in the background keeps telling me I am a ridiculous, crazy burden that people are tired of accompanying anyway.   But, my athem told me I should show what I am made of, and right now, I am harnessed in and distressed.  

But, I am hopeful. And I haven't given up. I guess I will ride it out.

Did I mention my distaste for rollercoaster yet?

The other night, I finally felt like I understood this:

The love, the all encompassing, intense, unconditional love that I had for my future ex-husband was real, even if the person I thought he was turned out to be unrealistic. 

On my end, it was real, and that's why it still hurts, and why instead of beating myself up over the lasting heartache, I should accept that the heartache is true and deep and correlates to the love I had for him for 14 years. That's almost half my lifetime.

I think that's possibly the moment I wandered onto this ride. I allowed myself to embrace both the love and the loss, fresh, unrestrained, for what it is. 

I hope this ride is done soon.