Fear.

My heart is breaking right now, for someone I barely know. 


A friend, who I've only met a couple times in real life, lost her husband this weekend.  He was a police officer, on his way home from work.  He was on his motorcycle, and hit by a drunk driver. 

As soon as I read about it on facebook, the tears started flowing.  I've never met him, but they have 3 young children.  She is a stay at home mom.  He was in a motorcycle accident, caused by someone else.  I guess it just hit close to home.

While it brought back memories of our accident, and was a reminder of just how blessed we were, that isn't why my heart aches for her.  I immediately thought about how I would feel if it were Ryan.  That ache in my heart that would never go away.  Having to tell the kids (probably multiple times) that they would never see their daddy again.  How would I go through each day with this terrible yearning for a life that could have been?  The inevitable question of Why?!  Why him?  Why me?  Why do our kids have to live the rest of their lives without their father? 

That is why my heart breaks for her, their kids, and their entire family.  That is why I have been, and will continue to pray for them. 

At church Sunday morning, just hours after hearing about my friend's horrible loss, a man asked about my motorcycle tattoo.  He rides, but said his wife doesn't really like it, so he's considering stopping.  After I mentioned our accident, and that I haven't been on the bike since, he said "Why should you?"  He pointed out that if something were to happen, it would be both parents that their kids would lose. 

I told him of my friend who just lost her husband.  I told him I don't ever want to be in her shoes.  That is a pain that I never want to know, a pain I don't want my kids to know.  But I also told him I would ride again.

In today's world, just going to a movie can get you killed by a senseless act of violence.  People are killed each day in motor vehicle accidents (motorcycles or not).  High winds can cause an 18 wheeler to fall on your car.  Going to school doesn't guarantee safety, as we learned after Columbine and countless other school shootings.  Ryan's job has the potential for a fatal accident.  Even staying at home, there can be an electrical fire.  People get sick (Ryan himself is a cancer survivor).  Our daily routines are never 100% safe.

I have often thought about telling Ryan that as long as we have young kids, he can't ride.  I've thought about never riding again.  Almost everyone asks me if I'll get on another bike.  My answer has always been "Yes, I will."  

I do not want to live my life in fear, for that is no life at all.  I will ride a motorcycle again, with Ryan.  When?  I can't answer that.  I do know there will be some amount of fear involved, I'm not going to lie.  The few times Ryan has gone on his bike alone has had me worried. 

But I refuse to let my fear win.  I will continue to live my life.  I will use our story as a testament to God's mercy, love, protection, and grace.  (Side note: You should read the article, "So you STILL think God is a merciful God?!")

If He calls me Home before (what us humans think is) "my time", then so be it.  I know in my heart I will see my family again.  But I will live this life He has created for me until that day comes.  Because He lives, so will I.

"Because He lives I can face tomorrow.  Because He lives, all fear is gone! Because I know He holds the future.  And life is worth the living just because He lives!"


Please pray for my friend who lost her husband, their 3 children, and their entire family.

Lord, I pray for my friend, their children, and their entire family.  I pray they feel the comfort, strength, and peace that only You can provide.  I pray they allow Your people to help them through this terrible time.  Please be with their friends, who will be Your hands to hold them, Your shoulder to cry on, Your feet to help them, Your arms to lift them up.  Lord, drive all fear and anger from their hearts, so they are able to hold onto the loving memories of a loving husband, father, brother, son, cousin, and friend.  Help ease their pain, but never forget.  Help them to feel Your presence today, this week, this month, the first holidays, and every day of their lives as they miss him.  Help them to know that they can face tomorrow, and that life is worth living, just because You live.  Amen.

Because He Lives

(Verse 1)
God sent his son
They called him Jesus
He came to love
Heal and forgive
He lived and died
To buy my pardon
An empty grave
Is there to prove
My Savior lives

(Chorus)
Because he lives
I can face tomorrow
Because he lives
All fear is gone
Because I know
He holds the future
And life and is worth the living
Just because he lives

(Verse 2)
How sweet to hold
A newborn baby
And feel the pride
And joy he gives
But greater still
The calm assurance
This child can face
Uncertain days
Because he lives

(Chorus)

(Verse 3)
And then one day
I'll cross the river
I'll fight life's fi-
Nal war with pain
And then as death
Gives way to victory
I'll see the lights
Of glory and
I'll know he lives

(Chorus 2xs)

One Year

I wasn't sure how I would feel today.  And I'm still not quite sure.  I actually wrote most of this a few days ago because I wasn't sure if the words would come to me today.  But actually sharing this post is more difficult than I thought it would be....

One year ago this morning we woke up, not knowing what the day would bring.  We went through our day, our normal Saturday routine.  We were excited for our date night.  The kids were excited their Nonnie and Pops were coming to babysit. 


One year ago today our lives were forever changed. It took only an instant. But that instant will last a lifetime.

What a difference a day makes.


I just re-read the post I wrote about 4 months after the accident detailing the events of that night.  It was hard to read.  I think even harder than writing it.  That night changed everything.  That night....

April 16, 2011. 

A date that I will never forget.  I've spent a lot of time reflecting over the events of the last year.  The good times, and the bad.  There has been pain, both physical and emotional.  A total of 6 surgeries, and bad reactions to the anesthesia and pain meds.  Nearly 6 months of painful physical therapy.  And it's not over.  I return to the doctor next week to check the fibula fracture, which I don't think is fully healed.  There have been hard times with the kids, as they tried to process what happened.  There has been anger, sadness, grieving, frustration.  Mostly, there has been a lot of change.  The reality that my leg will never be the same.  Learning to deal with the chronic pain, and the fact that I can't do as much as I used to.

Despite all of that, the moments that stand out most to me are good ones.

Riley coming to visit me on Easter at the hospital.  He brought me some of his candy, and a bunny for me to sleep with.

My family and friends who were there for our family.

The meals that were brought to our house.

My mom moving in with us for 5 months, even though it was difficult on my parents (she had to quit her job, and my dad had to pack, move, and unpack on his own).

The prayers and support from people I've never even met.


The flowers from the family of the girl who hit us that I received in the hospital.

Encouraging words, thanking me for sharing our story.

Learning to forgive.

Riley and Eli celebrating birthdays, and growing closer each day.  And yes, this includes fighting more, but they are best friends.  Riley told me so.

Our niece being born (Ryan's sis and her hubby's baby).

Going to visit my brother, sister-in-law, and my niece in California. 

Ryan and I spending our 5 year wedding anniversary in San Antonio, kid free. 

Thanksgiving, when we had so much to be thankful for.  Truly thankful. 

Christmas morning.  I remember sitting there so incredibly thankful that I was able to see the pure joy on my kid's faces.

Being able to celebrate a New Year.

My 30th Birthday!  Yes, I have good memories of turning 30.

Another trip to visit my brother and his daughter in California.  Only this time his wife was deployed to Afghanistan. :(  But we had a fun trip to Sea World, the beach, and enjoyed watching the cousins play together!

Shopping for baseball gloves with the boys.  They had to try on the pink helmets, too.  ;)

 
Getting a new tattoo.  I wanted something to represent our accident, something that forever changed our lives.  Ever since I've known Ryan, I have always said a quick prayer when he rides (whether I was with him or not) that God would send His angels to protect him/us (hence, the angel wings).  Yes, we were hit.  But I still truly believe that God was there, holding us up, surrounding us with His love, grace, and mercy.  He carried us through  He DID protect us.  He still is protecting us.  And He always will protect us. 

I could go on and on.  I have SO many wonderful memories.  Some of them I was in a wheelchair, others on crutches, but I was there.  I was able to enjoy those precious moments.  My foot is still part of my body, and I can walk.  I can hug my kids and my husband.  I know I sound cheesy and sentimental now.  But despite all of the bad, the good moments are what I will remember most. 

If I were to sum up the last year in one word, it would be THANKFUL. 

Guilt.

What is it about guilt?  It seems to follow me everywhere.  I have struggled with a few things recently, and guilt is the cause of that struggle.  It is not easy to share these things with the world, but here goes...


I feel guilty for saying "Yes" to something because it takes time away from my family, and also myself.  Or it causes me to neglect another area of my life.

I feel guilty for saying "No" to something, especially when it's something I'm passionate about. Especially when that something is good.   (see my dilemma here?)

I feel guilty for feeling angry, hurt, and frustrated about the accident, resulting injuries, related family issues, and the long-term limitations I will have to deal with. 

I feel guilty because I should just be thankful to be alive and that I can walk.  It feels wrong to have those feelings when I could have lost my foot... or my life. 

I feel guilty because those feelings are what I would have if I haven't truly forgiven the person who made a mistake. 


Guilt is a basic human emotion that we feel after doing something wrong.  It is normal.  We normally apologize to whomever we have wronged.  But, why is it that I feel guilt when I haven't done anything wrong?  And who to I apologize to if I haven't wronged anyone?  Why is it that no matter what I do, guilt finds a way to gnaw at me, making me second guess everything?  Why can't I just say "No" without that guilt?  Why can't I just feel without that guilt? 

Satan plants that seed of guilt in my mind.  He is trying to stop me from doing my best.  He is trying to sabotage relationships.  He is trying to stop me from doing good.  He wants that guilt to stop me.  He wants that guilt to pull me down and isolate me.

I am learning to let go of that guilt.  It's not easy.  It keeps popping back up. 

I just attended an amazing Women's Retreat with ladies from a wonderful church!  It was definitely a spiritual renewal.  I finally allowed myself to admit that I need a lot of emotional healing after the accident.  The physical is about as good as it's going to get.  I accept that my leg will never be the same.  But I refuse to allow my spirit to be held back because I allowed the guilt to prevent me from dealing with the emotions I have. 

One of the speakers addressed another area that I have been struggling with, saying "No".  I have a hard time saying that 2 letter word to projects that I am passionate about.  The speaker shared that saying "No" is not always saying "No" to God.  That sometimes saying "No" is really saying "Yes" to Jesus!  I needed to hear those words.  I am now beginning to feel at peace with saying "No".  I know that in saying "No" to some things, I am saying "Yes" to my family, myself, and to whatever God has in store for me.  It is okay to say "No".  And it's okay to not be able to do it all.

I am also starting to accept the fact that it is okay for me to feel hurt, angry, and frustrated about the accident, and the last 10 months of our life.  It is okay for me to feel those things about the future that will forever be changed because of the accident.  It does not mean that I am not thankful.  It does not make me weak.  It only makes me stronger for admitting that I need God's comfort and healing. 

Feeling hurt, angry, and frustrated also does not mean that I have not truly forgiven the young girl who hit us.  Those feelings are not towards her in any way.  They are about the situation, the life I had before, and the life that will forever be restricted.  It pains me to know that I can't run and play with my kids.  Every step I take is painful.  You may not notice it, because I hide it well, and I have learned to deal with it.  I accept that the physical pain is just part of my life now.  Each step is a reminder of not only the physical pain, but the emotional pain, as well.  My life will never be the same, in so many ways.

I feel like I am mourning the loss of the life we had before.  The life where I could walk pain-free.  Where I could run with my kids.  Where my 4 year old son never had PTSD.  Where we didn't have to deal with the emotional pain of what has happened in the last 10 months.  I feel like I am mourning the loss of things I will not be able to do with my kids.

Yes, there are many things I can do.  But it is a fact that there are some things that I can't.  And it is okay for me to feel hurt, angry, and frustrated about that.  It is okay to mourn the things I can no longer do. 

It is okay because I am still thankful.  I have forgiven the driver.  And I am still loved by the One who created me.  The One who saved us (both spiritually and physically).  The One who has greater plans for me.  He is my rock and my salvation.  God has told me it is okay to let that guilt go and give it to Him. 

Jeremiah 29:11 - 13

"'For I know the plans I have for you' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.  Then you will call on me and come pray to me, and I will listen to you.  You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.'

Psalms 28:7

"The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and he helps me.  My heart leaps for joy, and with my song I praise him."

How GREAT is our God!

It shouldn't be about business.

I'm sitting here watching the Business of Being Born for the first time.  I've put it off, knowing that it would only confirm this nagging voice telling me that with the next birth, I do not want another c-section.  I've finally sat down to watch it, and I was right.  Less than 5 minutes into it, it just confirmed I want a midwife to deliver my next baby.  And here I am writing this.  Which I've also been putting off. 

Riley was born via c-section, after a scheduled induction.  I was 38 weeks, 4 days pregnant.  I had been dilated at a 2 for a couple of weeks, and having horrible back labor.  I went in for an appointment at 38 weeks, and the doctor suggested scheduling the induction.  I was so done at that point, that I agreed.  I was uncomfortable. 

"I" being the key word.  But in all honesty, I was fine with it.  I was still hoping to hold off on the epidural as long as possible.  I only wanted it as a last resort, for when I couldn't take the pain any longer. 

I went in early on the scheduled day.  The IV with the pitocin drip was started at about 7:00 am.  By 1:00 (or so, I don't remember exactly), I was dilated to "barely 4 cm".  The doctor had broken my water a few hours earlier (which was extremely painful without any pain meds), but things weren't progressing as they liked. 

I asked for an epidural then, after they upped the pitocin, trying to speed things along.  Well, labor stalled after that.  I couldn't feel the contactions, thanks to the drugs.  I watched them on a moniter.  Around 5:45 pm, I was still at a 4, so the doctor recommended a c-section.  He cited "failure to progress" as the reason.  He also told me Riley's head was getting stuck in my pelvic bone. 

Riley was born at 6:15 pm in an operating room.  The cord was wrapped around his neck, so it was a couple of minutes (that felt like an eternity) before we heard his cry.  Once we did, it was the best sound in the world!  I cried silent tears of joy.  I still hold dear that moment when I heard him for the first time, and then a few minutes later when I saw him.  As soon as they closed me up and took me back to my room, Riley was there waiting for me.  I nursed him within minutes of returning to the room.  He stayed in my room the entire stay at the hospital.  I wanted him close so I could nurse on demand.  And, I didn't want to be away from him.



Riley, just minutes old in the OR.
He weighed in at 8 lb 2 oz!

When I was pregnant with Elijah, I was unsure of what to do.  I liked the idea of a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean), but I was scared something would go wrong.  I was scared of going through the labor process, and still needing a c-section.  I spoke to my ob/gyn about what to do (a different one, since we thought we were going to move at the time).  She told me because of the circumstances of my delivery with Riley, that she would only do a scheduled c-section. 

I ended up changing back to the ob that delivered Riley when we realized we would not be moving.  I spoke with him about what to do.  He told me it was my decision.  Great.  Now *I* had to be the one to decide.  Secretly, I was hoping he would just tell me so I wouldn't have to think about it.  I wanted a VBAC, but I was scared.

The fear won. 

We scheduled a c-section for 11/11/09.  Eight days before his due date.  I kinda liked that day, it would be easy to remember.  And it happens to be Veteran's Day. 

It was very different than the first birth.  Very calm.  A lot of waiting, not feeling at all like we were about to change our family forever.  Eli was born at 8:03 am.  Less than 2 hours after arriving at the hospital.  His cry came almost immediately after he was out, and it was a very surreal moment.  I was able to breastfeed him as soon as I returned to my room.  But I was so out of it from the drugs that I ended up sleeping most of the morning.  Eli was in the nursery most of that time.  Which is not something I wanted, but I was so out of it, I couldn't really complain.  That was the only time he was away from me, since we also "roomed in". 

Elijah, seconds old in the OR.
He weighed in at 8 lb 10 oz!

I can't go back and change anything about my 2 birth experiences.  I don't feel guilty about them, either.  I don't feel cheated.  It is what it is.  I was (and am) happy I had a healthy baby in my arms after each birth.  Not all moms are so blessed.  I won't be ashamed to tell the anyone about how my children came into this world.

I'm not any less of a mom because I've had 2 c-sections.  Nor do I love my babies any less.

At the time, I really didn't know any different than what has become the "norm" for births in America.  I didn't know anyone who had a midwife instead of an OB.  I didn't know anyone in real life who had a successful VBAC.  Online, of course I read success stories.  But those didn't feel real since they were just people behind a computer screen. 

But now I do.  The cloth diaper community has opened my eyes to a whole new world of birth!  Now I know there are midwives in this area that will do VBA2C's.  I know people who have given birth in birth centers.  And at home.  And even at home unassisted, without a midwife. 

Before the accident happened, we had discussed trying for #3 in the summer of 2011.  Well, things didn't exactly work out they way we planned.  Techically, I could get pregnant now if we wanted.  I have been told my pelvic bone is all healed up, and there are no more surgeries anticipated.  But we have been through so much in the last 10 months, both physically and emotionally, that we have decided to wait.  My body is still healing.  6 surgeries in an 8 month span is hard on any body.  I'm still trying to figure out my new "normal".  We are trying to heal and move on after a life changing event. 

I don't know when we will have another baby.  But I know our family is not complete just yet.  For now, we will enjoy life!  God has His own plans.  We may not know what He has in store for us, but I know He will continue to bless us more than we deserve!

When we feel the time is right to have another baby, I want to see a midwife. I want to give birth in a birth center. I'm not quite sure of a home birth, especially after 2 c-sections. I would feel more comfortable not in my own home. Especially if we move to the country soon.

I want to experience spontaneous labor. The anticipation of adding another child to our family.

I won't let fear win again.

I want to experience birth the way it was meant to be.

This year WILL be better!

Hello, old friends!  It has been way too long since I've had a chance to sit down and write.  I've missed it.  So this post is kinda long, playing catch up.  But I've included pics of my cute boys to make up for it!

A lot has happened in the last few months, including 3 major holidays, Eli's 2nd birthday, knee surgery, lots of physical therapy, my uncle passed away after a sudden stroke, Ryan's great-uncle passed away, my computer crashed, the DFW Cloth Diaper Project officially launched, and the DFW Cloth Diaper Group has grown to nearly 1,000 "likes".  Oh, and Ryan went on his first ride since the accident.  It was for a great cause, a motorcycle toy ride, but my nerves were beyond frayed that day.  All this on top of the normal daily routine with 2 young kids.  Things have been hectic, to say the least.

Things got so busy we didn't even have an actual party for Eli, just a fun family lunch at Babe's Chicken House!  Riley ate 7 pieces of smoked chicken and a cupcake.  Eli loved all the attention!

This is piece #6.  It really is that good.

Happy Birthday, Sweet Eli!

Yes, I mentioned more surgery.  Which makes #6 in an 8 month span.  This one was on the knee.  I finally went to see about it (since 2.5 months of PT didn't help as much as it should have).  They did an MRI and scheduled more PT.  After 4 additional weeks of PT, the doctor told me I had 3 choices:

1. Live with the pain.  Yeah, not happening.
2. Try more physical therapy.  Um, I've had a total of 3.5 months on it, 2-3 x's a week.  It's not better.
3. Do orthoscopic surgery to fix the tiny tear he thinks he saw on the MRI. 

So surgery it was.  On December 9 (just 2 weeks before Christmas), I had my knee scoped, and it was the best decision!  I am exactly one month out of surgery, and my knee is world's better!  I have a general soreness from surgery, but the sharp pain is gone.  I can walk through the store without feeling like somebody is stabbing me in the knee with each step.  He sutured a partial tear in the medial meniscus.  And also "filed" down some scar tissue on one of the bones.  It feels like my knee will be somewhat "normal" again once it's fully healed. 

Left knee a couple days post-op.

Scarring on the bone before he filed it down.

I just finished the last of my PT.  I am done, and it feels so strange.  Only one more doctor's appointment, a follow up on my knee (which the doctor said is looking great!).  And then I will be completely done!!  It feels so freeing to be (almost) done with all of the appointments.  I've had 4 different doctors (orthopedic surgeon, plastic surgeon, podiatrist, and a sport's medicine doctor; and one awesome physical therapist!).  Am I completely back to how I was before?  No.  And I never will be.

The long term effects are now apparent.  I can't squat.  At all.  My ankle just won't bend.  And my physical therapist told me that while it's not impossible, it will be very difficult for me to be able to run again.  Not that I'm a runner, or do frequent marathons (ok, none).  But I've always thought that maybe someday I would do one.  Just to prove I could.  But chances of that happening are small.  At least, running one.  I could always walk it.  I'm not even concerned about that.  My focus is more on the simple things, like What if my kid runs to the street or parking lot and I can't chase them?  I can't do that.  And it's frustrating.  And scary. 

When I returned to PT for my knee and ankle in November, I got a special splint that will help the range of motion in my ankle.  It helps some, but not a lot.  The biggest problem is I can't walk in it.  That's impossible with kids.  So, the best time to wear it is when I'm sleeping.  But it's uncomfortable, and I can't sleep with it on.  Ideally, I should wear it 12 hours a day for maximum benefit.  That doesn't happen.  I'm lucky if I wear it 2.  The PT said to use it for a couple more months before returning it. 

I wore this stylish shoe for a couple months before seeing about my knee. 
It kept all pressure off my heel so the one spot where the skin graft didn't
"take" could heal properly.  Skin grafts on the heel are a tricky thing.

The not-so-awesome-and-very-uncomfortable ankle splint I get to wear.

I am finally feeling like I can do some things without great pain.  Like cooking and light cleaning.  Picking things up is hard, since I can't squat.  But I like that I feel well enough to do this stuff.  Only problem is, I'm out of the habit.  It's been 9 months since the accident.  I'm having to figure out my new "normal".  I can't physically function the same as before, but it really won't improve much more.  So I just have to figure it all out, and deal with any discomfort.  It's not easy.

Today I took the kids to the mall to get a haircut, eat lunch, and let them play.  It's cold and wet outside, so I thought I'd let them run off some energy.  Eli was super cranky.  I forgot the stroller wasn't in the car.  I didn't worry, since I figured we'd just get a mall stroller.  But the atm wasn't working, and the machine only took cash.  I had 3 $1 bills.  It cost $5.  So, no stroller.  Eli wanted me to carry him.  The whole time.  Not only is he heavy (about 33 lbs), but the extra weight still hurts my leg.  I can only tolerate carrying him for a few minutes.  If I didn't carry him, he stood there screaming.  If I carried him, it hurt.  I was frustrated, as eyes started at me as if I was torturing my child, that I couldn't carry him easily.  Normally, I don't let the stares bother me.  But today it did.  I felt like a bad mom because I can't carry my child without pain.  I know, I'm not really a bad mom.  But it's still frustrating that I can't carry him when he wants/needs a little extra comfort. 

I'll figure it out.  I know I will, and these frustrations will be a thing of the past.  I'm still so thankful that Ryan and I did not die in that accident.  I'm also thankful that I still have my foot.  And that I can walk.  And hold my kids and watch them grow and learn each day.  My heart aches when I think about what could have happened.  God has blessed us beyond what we deserve!  He has been right here with us the whole time, giving us the strength and comfort we need.  I still need that strength and comfort.  I think the end of this chapter in our lives has been harder than the beginning. 

I was sad on Saturday as I watched Ryan and the boys play Hide and Go Seek in the yard.  I wanted to run and chase after them, and I was reminded of what I won't be able to do with my kids.  I almost feel as if I'm mourning the loss of my old "normal" life, when I had no restrictions on what I could do.  But when I get a little down about this, I just need to look at 2 wonderful little faces to remind me of how truly blessed I am.  I may not be able to run after them, but they can run to me.  And for that, I am thankful.  And my heart is full.