Thankful For

I am writing this while refereeing a "time-in." Gemma has lost her mind, ugly crying with snot running off her face like lava... I think to myself. I love this. I love them. Hey, I'm not being facetious. These snot buckets and poo butts are a daily blessing to me. Because as Gemma melts down and bawls her eyes out right now, I am her calm. I get to hold my peace and help her find north when she is ready to relax again. So while she melts down, I thought it fitting to journal what I am thankful for:

1. Gemma. 

She is a fire cracker. She is spirit and fire. She is tenderness and affection. She adores her bible and her sister and cares for them deeply. She loves big. Fits big. Plays big. Lives big. Gemma is a whole lot of kid in a little body, and I am so excited to watch who she becomes every day. 

2. Reia.

She is a ball of fun. Reia has a magnetic smile that could power half of Europe. She is hope and sweetness. I like to say she was created to cuddle. Her precious head full of hair is just further proof that God intended for her to be born at 41-weeks-of-perfection. 

3. Jason. 

I don't know how we ever get anything done before noon. We are both night time people, but you rise every week-day and work hard for us. You would work hard even if I didn't stay home with our girls -even if you were single. Why? Because you are a hard worker. You do what you're passionate about and it shows. I am thankful that you work hard for yourself AND for us.

4. Our families

We come from very different cultures, but one major thing we have in common: love. Our families know how to love big. No holding back. Unconditional. Here-let-me-help-you-with-that love! I am so thankful for this.

5. My faith

I am thankful for my faith. My faith in my Creator. It has been what helps me stay centered my entire life. But I am also thankful for my faith in humanity. In people. I am thankful that I don't draw lines in the sand. I am thankful that I respect differences. I am thankful that I assume there are misunderstandings. I am thankful that my faith in God helps me to extend genuine grace even when there WASN'T a misunderstanding (when people really have been sour.) Because God has done the same for me. I am thankful that I believe in YOU enough to tell my story, my truth, without fear. I am thankful that I have faith in WHO I was created to be and that I recognize that there is no ceiling on who I can become, and I believe the same is true for you. 

What are you thankful for this Thanksgiving?

Home

I am in an absolutely grateful haze this week. It's my favorite holiday and I am spending this week with a few of my biggest blessings all under one roof.

It's taken me 26 years, 10 major relocations, 2 new languages, 3 years of marriage, two babies and two identity crisis'... I'm here to tell you what I've learned. 

I have always been confused as to HOW I should identify what "home" is. I have a vivid memory of going into my mom's room when I was 4-5 years old and telling her I felt home-sick. I had only moved once before this occasion and I was 18 months old then, so I think it's fair to say this feeling has lingered for a LONG time. 

So what does HOME mean to me?

As a child I only knew "home" as a house. It's where we went when we left the grocery store. It's where we went when church was over. 

HOME. 

But then I began hearing people refer to "home" as somewhere other than where you live. Home was where they used to live. I didn't have one of those, that I could remember anyway. I didn't remember Kokomo, Indiana. For me it was just a name on my birth certificate. 

It sounded romantic in that heart-aching-long-distance-relationship kind of way. How boring I was! No life experience! Woe, is me! No used-to-be-home trophy on my mantel. I couldn't begin to relate to these people and that frustrated me. I felt ignorant.

I was 7 years old when my dad first told me about the possibility of moving away from the home I knew and loved. To be honest, I thought it sounded cool! "Life experience! YES!" THIS will teach me more about what "home" is. (I shake my head just writing this. How very naive I was.)

We moved to Washington state, my accent was thick and my freckles were dark. "I'm from Louisiana!" I would tell people, with enthusiasm. That is, until people began mocking my twang. UGH... People can be so cruel sometimes. Let me elaborate on this for a moment... I had a great sense of humor. I thought southern draws were hick and silly and fun! The mocking I am referring to was degrading and shameful. So my used-to-be-home didn't feel safe to claim. All of the emotional souvenirs I brought with me, like my favorite foods, my accent, my stories... No one wanted to see my mantel. My "trophies" from a life before. 

That's when I realized that I should cling to consistency. Predictable. Common and normal are acceptable. My identity was in crisis and I was only 8 years old.

Years came and went. I played it safe. Too safe. I was probably too serious. I shed my southern accent as soon as I could and always tried to fit-in just enough that I didn't stand out. I moved many more times: from Washington, back to Louisiana, to Montana, to Texas, to Mexico, Indiana, Texas again and finally Oklahoma.

Fast forward.

I was an AIMer in Mexico City, ready to leave the field. My team mates and classmates were returning home. I tried to play it off like I was excited to have the world as my oyster, or some other nonsense. But truthfully I was stressed. My parents were living abroad at the time. I didn't seem to have the 'landing pad' that everyone else was talking about. I had a few invitations... My glamorous life of adventure had it's perks! Friends in 5 states opened their arms and invited me to call them home in lieu of my parents living far off. "How flattering", I thought. But I didn't only need a place to lay my head, I was exhausted. Which option would most closely resemble "home?"

Cue next identity crisis. 

What is my culture? What has shaped me? What do I believe? Do my beliefs align with my parents'? Do I want to date a little? Do I want to go to college? How will I pay for college? Should I do more with Spanish? Should I return and pick up Sign Language again? How will I afford a car? How do I get insurance? THEY JUST KEPT COMING. 

With counsel, I have done some research into the psychological reason for my identity crisis. I had no idea what my core beliefs were. Is Ford better than Chevy? Are the mountains better than the beach? Am I Republican or Democrat? Am I Church of Christ, or....? Or what? What's out there!? I wasn't abandoning what I believed as a child, I just didn't know what they meant to me as an adult.

I felt the full weight of my naivity. Where is North? Where is home? What fits? 

Fast forward to 2015. I'm married, about to have my second child and have been living in our first house for 2 years and it didn't feel like "home" yet. For years I had been told to stop trying to figure it out. Just follow my feet. "You know what home is, Tab." Honestly, I didn't. I say that in true sincerity. I was grasping at straws, asking for help with a problem that, with 20+ year of experience, began to seem imaginary.

Now for the crux of this whole article. Neither do many of you! Think about it. As best you can figure, home is where your holidays are, bed is, family is, culture is, language is, etc... We all depend on something outside of ourselves to identify home, but not all of us struggle to feel confident in what home IS. 

I'm writing this article from the back porch of my parents house in Lumberton, Texas. I have never lived in this house, let alone this city, before. It's not home in that sense. I don't have life-long relationships in this city, outside of my parents. But if we weren't family, I probably wouldn't hear from them often with how much we all have moved around. Distance is a cruel and uncooperative factor in relationships. That's how I figured it out. I solved the mystery. If home TRULY can be had by everyone, surely it's not as tangible as I've imagined this whole time. Home cannot be taken away from you. Home cannot be burned down. Home cannot be sold or bought. Home cannot be inherited. Home cannot die. Home cannot kick you out. Home cannot insult you. Home cannot move on without you. 

Home is an experience. Home is where you dance silly. Home is where the comfort food is. Home is where you laugh until you pee yourself. Home is where you stay up late playing spoons. Home is where you feel safe. Home is where you are enough. 

I have it. I recognize it now. I have claimed it. And I'm taking it with me. I am going to share it with more of the people I love and fuel it. I am so excited about this revelation! 

>I< am home! 

Not Good Enough

Over the last few months I've been learning the ropes of raising two highly affectionate little girls. My oldest's name is Gemma. She was born on the anniversary of our wedding ceremony and in all of her extroverted goodness, has been "stealing the show" ever since. My youngest, Reia, is just now 3 months old. As a former foster family we aren't strangers to having a fourth body in our home... but those other babies weren't breast fed or co-sleeping, so this little one has had a few tricks up her sleeve that are new to us.

My girls are the most enormous gift I can imagine. I frequently just stand in awe and admiration of God's skill and generosity. I also frequently feel that I've screwed up. I miss the mark. I under appreciate them or behave in a way that will undoubtedly scar their memories of me...

I am not good enough. 

When noon rolls around... "Nap time!" but two diapers need changed (because oh yeah, I haven't managed to potty train my toddler yet) and one needs nursed, the other needs her chicken nuggets reheated... I situate the toddler with edible chicken, grab a cup of water and make my way to the couch to finally nurse the fussing 3 mo and I hear a sippy-cup hit the floor. I sit down on the couch and begin nursing anyway, after all, "natural consequences teach kids about real life..." But while I manage to open my youngest's mouth wide enough to get a proper latch, I am tense and shout "Hang on!" in frustration as my toddler repeatedly shouts my name and maneuvers herself into a position so painful that she is now in tears and cannot free herself. Now tears well up in my eyes, with my baby still nursing away... I spiral: "The natural consequences of NOT giving her back the sippy-cup that she threw will now create this nuclear energy spike that, if not addressed soon, will result in a 2 hr tantrum, followed by a late nap, leading to a late bed time. And we all know that kids who don't get enough sleep go on to have lower test scores and never move away from home..." (oh how funny these panic moments seem in hindsight.)

I am not GOOD enough. I am introverted. My oldest is extroverted. I have to guard my energy like food in a famine when she is awake. She will absorb every single last ounce of my good. She fills her bucket by socializing. The yin to my yang. If I don't guard my energies, I have nothing left.

WHEN I mess up, am I still enough? 

You see, I, like other human beings, come with flaws. I need daily alone time, an amount of time where I am disconnected from people. This need becomes messy when you throw children into the equation. Some days it just doesn't happen... someone misses their nap time, or someone gets sick... what do I give my kids when I haven't had an opportunity to fill ME up? What bucket do I draw from? And what do I have to offer myself?

• Sometimes I go with my serious bucket... "Maybe If i just become stoic I won't snap at them!?" 
• Sometimes I go with the panic bucket, "Are you kidding me? I'm allowed to be responsible for children while in this condition!? Everyone gets room time!" 
• But sometimes I go to the grace bucket... "Gemma, I know you really hoped to have XYZ, it's pretty disappointing to go without what we want... but if we work together it will be ok."

I am enough.

I'll never always be GOOD enough. But I am ENOUGH. Do you see the difference? I accept that what I have to offer may not always be "good" or "perfect" but because of Grace, it's always enough. And on the days when I have run out of "good" to give myself, I reach for the grace bucket... I deserve heaps of grace. He is enough. Because of Him, there is enough to go around; thank God my success doesn't depend on me. Daily he says to me "Tab, I know you really hoped to be more today, it's pretty disappointing when we go without what we want... but if we work together it will be ok."

Pregnancy and Childbirth through the Eyes of a Three Year Old

There are many things I have been passionate about in my life. From an early age, I knew that feeling of deep, unadulterated, unconditional excitement... and I knew it well. When I was 3 years old I became a big sister. During my mom's pregnancy, I made some very educated deductions. I'm happy to say that these deductions are NOT the extent of my child birth education!!! These things are so fun to think back on now as a birth Doula, child birth educator and as a mother.

So, here they are...


Pregnancy and Childbirth through the Eyes of a Three Year Old

1.) "Pregnancy makes women cut off all of their hair."
This was true in my eyes. My mom was due with a July baby and we lived in southern Louisiana... throw in a few hormones and four very energetic home schooled children and you begin to understand what ACTUALLY led to this style choice. But nonetheless, my little world believed this to be fact.
Side-note: Believe it or not, many women report having a skin crawling feeling while pregnant and postpartum. I experienced this during my whole first pregnancy and now again postpartum with my second. It was bad enough during my first pregnancy that I actually DID get a pixie cut!

2.) "Pregnant women have crazy beautiful finger nails and they like to paint them bright colors."
I don't even know how often my mom painted her finger nails, I just have a few vivid memories of admiring her long, thick, bright red finger nails (they complimented her pixie cut very nicely) and thinking "that'll be me someday!" I still find this fascinating, how freaky beautiful a woman's fingernails can become during pregnancy. Thank you, Prenatals!

3.) "Boy-girl-boy-girl-etc..."
When my mom was expecting her 6th baby, I learned about "the pattern". Girl-boy-girl-boy-girl... so our family joked that this last baby would be a boy! Except, 3 year old, passionate, and take-you-literally Tab took this as fact. I told all of my friends, I say it in all of our home videos... "My mommy is having a baby boy!" Guess what?? I have a baby sister.
Among the many other wives tales out there... which are fun games to play and some of them seem to be fairly accurate... they are still 50% accurate, guys. Hang in there! And praise the Lord for ultrasounds when we just can't wait any longer to know if it's a he or a she!

4.) "Pregnant women don't change at all."
I believe it was probably a month before my sister arrived, I still hadn't noticed that my mom's stomach had grown. It happens so subtly I suppose. I followed her into the garage on one of her nesting energy surges and asked her to put on her wedding dress that we found. My mom has always been rather fit in my eyes, but at 8 months pregnant there was no chance in heck that she would fit into her customized wedding gown that she weighed 105lbs in when she wore it last. My mom just laughed... I didn't get it. Pregnancy is full of physical changes!

5.) "Moms just go to the hospital and come home with babies!"
The day my sister was born, I was upset about two things... "That's not a brother..." and "Why can't I take home my baby!?" I know, I've always been this complicated... Walking into mom's recovery room I distinctly remember the lights on the walls, thinking "this is a weird hotel" and wanting mom and the baby to come home with us. Once our visit was over, we loaded up our van full of children and went home... but not before I screamed "I WANT MY BABY!!!" alllllll the way down the hallway of the hospital. I was still crying about it as we got home and went to bed.
Truth is, it was drama like that that probably reassured my mom that she could use that over-night stay in the hospital! Moms have such a big roll in the family! You think making babies IN their bodies is pretty epic? You think caring for a house, kid(s), pets, etc... is a big deal? Many moms do this more than one time! That means recovering from a major experience like birth, WHILE momming. This is so incredibly inspiring to me! AND I AM ONE! So so incredible to me.

I get so nostalgic writing out these thoughts by three year old Tab... and now that I have two children of my own, I am so intrigued to see what their memories will hold someday. As a birth professional, I can only imagine what they will absorb and the stories they will tell someday... but you know what? I can't wait to hear it!

Winds of Change

Who else has days where every little thing makes you feel poetic? With the fall weather settling in and the winds of change are literally blowing 40mph down the street right now, It just feels like such a cozy day! Turning off lights and TVs, I can smell my pot of coffee, I'm contemplating making potato soup, our cloth diaper laundry is drying, both of my kids are sleeping... this moment feels frozen and all I can hear is the wind busily blowing through the trees outside and my fingers as they hit the keys on the keyboard.

Life is beautiful, isn't it?

I married the love of my life just over 3 years ago. It's funny, I love this time of year. It was this time of year that he and I really began to connect and fall in love. So much life has come and gone since then. When we were early in our relationship I attended an emotional growth program called Pathways, during the 4 months that I was in this program I also underwent an abdominal surgery to treat my Endometriosis. Just a couple of weeks after my surgery, Jason proposed to me while I had strep throat. Our fairy tale together seems to be watermarked by real life in such a poetic way. We have both lost grand parents, changed jobs, become home owners... We have seen dark days individually and together... at times it seems that the only thing that comes easily for us is laughter... and I thank God often for that amazing staple in our life together. We're opposites in many ways, but those differences keep us honest and genuine.

On August 4th, 2013, I gave birth to a fire cracker. Gemma. She is so full of life. With my history of Endo, I told Jason early in our relationship that I didn't know what my fertility would look like. I robbed myself of quite a bit of day-dreaming-joy by assuming the worst. Endometriosis caused a lot of pain and stress for us and Jason was held captive by it as well. It was paralyzing. All was on hold when my pain episodes would begin. The surgery I mentioned earlier was an incredible relief for me physically, and for us together in our relationship. Now, two babies and 3 years of marriage later, I can see God has been such an incredible craftsman in my life.

I don't consider myself blessed BECAUSE of what he has done or what he has given me... no, I was blessed long before all of that. I am blessed because I have never been alone. The winds of change has blown rather steadily through my life. Missing my siblings is the closest I can relate to feeling "home sick"... because I have moved so many times that no one place truly stands out in my mind. I miss my family all the time. I miss being face to face, I miss their hugs, I miss watching movies together, I miss driving around with my sisters, I miss laughing so hard I pee myself. I miss playing spoons and speed, I miss sleeping in the same bedroom on Christmas Eve. I miss our pointless debates and arguments...YES. I miss those things. But I have never once missed God. I get cold chills as I type this out. He has never changed. He has never been far off. He has never called me names. He has never been too far away when I needed comfort. He has never missed a holiday. He never changes. He doesn't move our of state. He's with me. My fairy tale relationship with God is also watermarked with real life. I have been angry, I have be flaky, I have been childish. I have aimlessly sought to find self worth outside of His arms...but none of those things have ever threatened to take Him away from me. HE. IS. STEADFAST.

I frequently feel lost. Like everyone else has a script and I don't know my lines... but He helps me navigate life. Learning to appreciate life's watermarks can be hard sometimes, and the winds of change can be wild and scary... but i'm captivated by it.

Would you be swept away?

Off your feet?

No road map?

Gone with the breeze?

Would you be swept away?

Into a fairy tale?

Where gravity is gone

Where you cannot fail?

Would you risk it all?

Would you let this go?

Can you silence your fears?

Can you forget what you know?

Would you stake your life

Your comfort

Your joy

On the here and now?

Are you happy enough to keep what you've found?

Or are you like me?

You're somewhere in between...

Happy, but sad.

Observing the breeze...

Would you be swept away and be free?