Before too long, it will be May. Wow, that particular month has been hard for me, and I am surprised that I am feeling bad ahead of time. I would say that for the last couple months, I have had this sadness flirting with me. It's such a complicated situation, and I wish that I really had someone to talk to.

This May, I have to contend with Mother's Day again, along with my sons's birth/death day. I know that it sounds odd to some people that I would be upset on Mother's Day, especially being that I have a beautiful little girl and my own Mama to think about. I'm not sure that I'll ever really enjoy the day though. Back when I was pregnant with my son, my mom was a real sweetheart, and she sent me a Mother's Day card before Trystin was born. It was the most darling thing, and I have always appreciated my mom's soft heart for those sort of things. There was no way for her to know that approximately a week later, my baby would die. When she went to my home to clean the bathroom (I was freaking out about having to clean up all the blood), Mom also put away a lot of the baby things that we had aquired, along with the card. However, no matter where she tucked the card away, the happy memory always pops into my head each year. It's a bittersweet thing, remembering such happiness and hope. I think that was the last time I ever felt that way about babies, even though I became pregnant with DD three months after Trystin died.

I love my daughter, and I don't want her to ever grow up feeling as though she got less of me, and that I wasn't tremendously happy to have her. I am. I'm so in love with that little girl that it scares me. Lately, I have had to make war with a soul-deep fear that she will get sick on me, and that she'll die. DH doesn't understand exactly how I feel, so we had a little bit of a problem the other day while visiting at my sister's house. I should have guarded my tongue better. I guess it shows just what is in my heart, at least in part, that I was so quick to bite back at him for allowing something that worried me so deeply.

Sis lives in a townhouse where the living space is located upstairs, above the garage. It is a lovely place, but because of that, the first flight of stairs is pretty steep. When I was a young girl, I had a bad accident at home, and I tumbled headfirst down a flight of stairs and had to be taken to the hospital. My mom was pretty freaked out because she was afraid that I had broken my neck, with the way that I had landed. I was hurt pretty bad, but nothing was broken. However, I am terribly protective of DD around stairs. I even fuss at DH about running up and down stairs, and carrying awkward things down to the basement. He thinks that I am being silly. Anyway, he let DD walk down the stairs all by herself, while carrying an oversized shopping bag full of toys. She was almost to the bottom of the stairs when I saw what was happening, but I still got that cold chill running down my back. I asked him why he didn't hold her hand, and he said that she was big enough to do it herself. So, I asked him how he would have felt if she would have fallen while trying to manage that large bag, and he said that if she got hurt, she would be more careful the next time. With the terrible image of my little girl lying at the bottom of the stairs, broken, I snapped at him and called him an idiot. I'm ashamed for the way that I reacted, especially in front of my sister and her boyfriend. I guess Sis knew that something was wrong, because she knows that I don't act like that. As I sat on the bottom stair, putting DD's shoes on her, I could hear Sis explaining about the bad fall that I took.


I'm not sure that it is the stairs really, but that I am just afraid. Every day of her life, I am afraid of losing DD. I know that she belongs to God, and that He can take her home whenever He chooses. I'm just having a hard time coming to grips with reality that it is all on His terms. There is nothing that I can do to protect my daughter enough, to be diligent enough. I really put myself out on a limb, wanting to love another child again, and I'm not sure how well I could handle it if she died before me. It's almost ironic that I find myself dealing with the emotions that I tried so hard to put away when I was pregnant with her. I could feel this little girl rolling around in my womb, but I couldn't connect with her. I didn't dream about what her life would be like, nor did I even ready her room. I didn't want to become close to her because I knew that the chances were so high that I would lose her, and it would hurt so much more. I didn't want to deal with it then, but I'm having to deal with it now. I am definitely attached and just in love with this little creature. Every time I see a commercial on tv about people killed by drunk drivers, I inwardly cringe. Every time the shows about St. Jude Children's Hospital comes on, I see DD in a bed with no hair, her eyes sucken in. I guess that is just the truth concerning such a vital condition as love. It leaves a bit vulnerable spot right in the middle of your heart.

You know, I thank God every day for loving me enough to take on flesh and die for me. I don't know how unbelievers live through traumatic events and want to bother with taking another breath. I have watched people around me die, and maybe it gets easier to deal with the reality of it on one hand. On the other, I would be tempted to live in debilitating fear every day of my life. But, I still let DD ride her bike down the sidewalk, even though a car could hop the curb. I still let her play with sticks, even though she could poke her eye out. Snow angels are still fun, even though she could get pnemonia. I still want her to find happiness in marriage, even though she could end up with an abusive man who might beat her. I hope the best for her in childbearing, though it has the potential to bring sadness and pain. I want her to have the best in the world, and beyond. I guess that is why it is so important to me that she knows about God and comes to love Him. Without God, there is no hope. If I had no reassurance that the people that I love would be cared for ok after death, I'm not sure if I could cope. God is such a "great guy" for loving us enough to take the real fear out of death. Of course, no one likes the thought of dying. I'm sure that in a lot of cases, it isn't a pleasant proccess. I'll admit to being a little afraid of how I will die, or those that I love. But, at least I know that it is just a doorway, and not the destination. It helps me to relax a little, and not get quite so worked up as I normally would. I guess that as for the remaining fear that I deal with, I've got to do a lot more praying. It's ok though. He hears me. He knows, and He understands.

Oh, and I wrote this like this on purpose....

Last night was enjoyable for me, especially being that I've been somewhat lonely lately.

Last evening, DH called and said that he forgot his wallet at home, and realized that he probably didn't have enough gas to get home. So, I very carefully drove the car up to his workplace to bring him his wallet. Since we were there, DH showed me some furniture that his boss had offered to sell him from their model apartment. We looked things over, and though the price was reasonable, it was still more than we could feel comfortable spending the money on. DH is so funny, because every time there is a larger amount of money to manage, he always brings me in for my opinion. It isn't that I'm better with money or smarter, but that he finds it nearly impossible to give our money away. *laughs* I am the one who pays the mortgage and utility bills. Heehee...  He doesn't have a problem spending my grocery shopping money though. *cracks up* How can a guy like cookies and beef jerky so much? Anywho, we decided not to purchase the furniture, but I did inquire about a couple large pictures that were on the walls. He said that they were going for $10 a piece, so I asked if he would buy me two of them. There was one in particular that I really love, because it reminds me of my grandma in Florida. Oh, and I asked him to inquire about the ironing board that they had sitting out. I'm currently ironing clothing on the top of our table, with a towel folded over the wood.

After we got home, we all sat down to a simple dinner of chicken nuggets and mashed potatoes with butter and chives. It was somewhat late, and none of us were too enthused about dinner, for some reason. DD and I had a late lunch though, so that might have been part of the "problem".

Settling in, DH and I thought that we would be able to watch a movie after DD went to bed, but things didn't work out that way. As I was scrubbing DD in the bath tub, Sis came over with her family. As I was squeezing water out of DD's hair, I heard my sister exclaiming from the living room that her baby somewho had poo all the way up his back. *laughs* I just hollered to her that it wouldn't be the last time. I remember plenty of diaper horror stories with DD when she was small. So, Sis cleaned him up as best that she could, and I took him in the bath tub after I got DD wrapped in a towel. It was funny to wash little Pooh Bear, because Sis wanted to help me, being that this was his first tub bath. So, she took her shoes off and rolled up her pant-legs so she could stand in the water. She held him up part way, and I washed him. It was a real trip to see the two of us fumbling around with a wet baby. Sis thought it was really funny that I put a wet cloth over his private parts, so he couldn't pee on me. *laughs* I'm just not used to boys. :o )

After the children were all dried and changed, we sat around for a little bit to talk. DD put us in an awkward spot by making inquiries into nursing, but we tried to answer her questions as best that we could. Then I shuffled her off to bed, read her a "bed-night" story (DD speak), and tucked her in. By that point, the guys came in from the garage, all happy and dirty. It's funny how guys can be like that, happy to be covered in oil and stinking of carb cleaner. Our edger still doesn't work, by the way. *chuckles* They did boast about having a fire started on the garage floor though. *rolls eyes* Silly bugs.

Sorry about the lateness of my post. My carpel tunnel has been acting up real bad. I'm here though!! Yay! For more insight on the book  "Created To Be His Help Meet", please visit the following bloggies:

My Three Pennies, Walking Circumspectly, RosesandTeax2, and Stand Up and Walk

Reflections on ....

Created To Be His Help Meet

By Debi Pearl

Chapter 9

Finding Your Life in His

~From the beginning, God meant for us to be a comfort, a blessing,
a reward, a friend, an encouragement, and a right-hand wo-man.~

In this chapter, Debi talks a lot about how women so often have this idea of what their marriage and family life should be like, and they refuse to accept any change. To illustrate her point, Debi referenced the movie "Dad", in which an older gentleman talks frequently about a life and family that have never been his, except for in his mind. All of the things that he lacked so deeply in his life, he created for himself in a personal fantasy. I don't know about anyone else, but when my husband envisions his loving companion, I want my face to be the one that he sees when he closes his eyes.

Back when my husband was first deciding where he was going to invest his energy, I made some good choices. I am not sure if it is because I have always been less than wealthy, but it didn't bother me much, whatever he decided to do as a career. Some days, he wanted to go back into construction business. I never pressured him, but because he didn't want me worrying about him every day, he set that aside. Then we were on to auto mechanics. I don't know how he managed it, but my lovely man would leave work, spend time with me, and run off to school each evening until he just dropped from exhaustion. Finally, he found his niche with commercial maintenance, and he has really made it work for him.

If you love a man who physically labors at his job, I am sure that you understand what I mean when I stress how much I have to show my respect for my husband's hard work. If I were to sit back and complain that he doesn't have a "respectable enough" job or fuss over shopping at thrift stores, it would tear his heart right out. The fastest way for me to kill the spirit in my husband is for me to show or tell him that his work isn't good enough, that our life isn't good enough, that he isn't good enough. I just won't do that to him, whether he is turning a wrench, studying expense reports, or disposing of other peoples' garbage. If it makes him happy, then I will be happy for him. A large part of me 'finding my life in his' has been cultivating loyalty. I may not be as flexible a creature as I possibly could be, but I will follow him anywhere. I don't want my husband designing a fantasy wife, someone who loves him as he is, and embraces the life he works so hard to make for himself and his family.

"Adam commenced his rule of the planet before God created Eve to help him with his life's goals. Adam didn't need to get Eve's consent. God gave her to Adam to be HIS helper, not his partner. She was designed to serve, not to be served...."

Oh boy, it keeps coming back to that "it's not all about me" thing, again. It's funny how that happens. It took me a while to realize that our marriage wasn't going to be about my husband sacrificing to help me reach the goals that I had set for myself. More than anything, it was difficult for me to accept that there was an order to things, that we would not be sharing every role 50/50. My husband never sought to "put me in my place". My mostly Mr. Steady has only ever wanted peace with me, but I will admit that there were times when I would make war with him over silly things. For example, how many times did I fuss at him to help me wash the dishes or clean our home, even though he worked full time and was very tired when he came home? How many times would I stomp my feet like a child when my husband wanted to go and do something without me, like have a cup of coffee with an old friend? He certainly didn't need my permission, but I acted as though he did. Having a heart of service is something that I have really had to cultivate, but I am very happy with the results that I am getting. The more that I work on having a heart that is happy by helping my husband, the more joyful that I am, and the easier our days go. First, I had to get it out of my head that my husband was my errand boy.

Chapter 10

Reactions Define You

~A wise woman does not dream of what "could have been."
She does not see herself as "God's gift to men;"
therefore, she is joyful and content in her present circumstances.~

"Your reactions break you loose from your social inhibitions and manifest who you really are inside and what you really believe at your core level."

"The heart is filled with thoughts, and it is out of that reservoir of thoughts that the mouth speaks words of praise or bitterness."

"You are what you think, and God tells you how to think; Think the truth. This is not the power of positive thinking; this is the power of the truth as God defines it."

For those of you who think that I am some great cook, you're just out of your mind. *laughs* It's not hard to please a 4 year old.

When I make pancakes, I eyeball everything. First, I start with ready-made pancake mix. You can buy it in a box, or mix everything ahead of time and put it in a plastic container for storage. I am so fancy that I used a large plastic container from the dollar store and used masking tape to label it. *grins*