Stop Calling My Birth Easy

Stop calling my birth easy.

There. I said it. If I am being honest, which clearly I am in that kind of mood, the words "birth" and "easy" do not belong in the same sentence. "Easy" and "kids" don't belong in the same sentence either. Stop calling it easy!

But let's rewind. If all that you knew about my birth is how long my labor lasted, or that I gave birth at home, you may be hearing potato when I'm not even talking about veggies... Do you feel me? We announce these stats like they can truly give a realistic image into birth. When we share a baby's size, are we assessing how hard it may have been to birth said child? Are we wondering how healthy that child is? I must say I'm not entirely sure.

My active labor was 2hours long... I always feel inclined to add a *BUT*. "But I had prodromal labor for a month." Like, it wasn't as easy as it sounds. A mother undergoes a c section, which to some implies that she didn't get the "full birth experience" (yes I have heard someone say that.) But guess what? Many women who undergo a c section actually labor for quite a while before a surgical route is suggested. Even if they never felt a single contraction, I'm pretty sure it's no picnic to recover from abdominal surgery while caring for you family. In contrast, I cannot imagine what it's like to be in active labor for days, but I DO know that growing and delivering little humans is exhausting!

Why is there so much judging? You'd think there is a birth olympics medal ceremony somewhere: "Sorry, you were docked points for a short labor, but it looks like you made up for it by giving birth at home... That's pretty brave, so I'm gonna give you an 8 out of 10 overall." What is this!? We are systematically undercutting the bravery and vulnerability that EVERY BIRTHING MOTHER endures when they bring a helpless child into this world.

While we're at it, let's go a step further... Say you AREN'T the woman who birthed your children. Oh, well... We don't even have a yard stick to tell how much of a badass you are, how will you ever have a leg to stand on as a mother. (sarcasm of course.) If we stand around lording over new moms, "Wait until you've gone weeks without sleep- wait until terrible twos- wait until you have MULTIPLE kids..." We will only perpetuate the Parenthood Hunger Games. Does it sounid crazy yet? Do I sound crazy yet?

The measure of a woman, the measure of a mother... It's not calculable based on a few stats. My birth was beautiful, and it took me months to prepare for it. Literally months of doing squats and stretches and meditations, because that's how I chose to treat my body. Choosing to breastfeed was incredibly hard, not a moment has been easy. But you know what? Mixing formula for a little one isn't without its challenges, I've done it as a foster momma. Baby wearing vs strollers, vaccinations vs non-vaccination, medicated vs natural, cry it out vs attachment parenting... The motherhood Olympic events go on and on. Many seem to be under the impression that these are opposing teams, not choices. Unfortunately, the peanut gallery isn't present in your home to help support these various events, they just sit back and inform you how to parent.



We each start off clueless. There comes a day when you are handed a helpless human being and in that moment you get to assume responsibility. How you got there might look worlds different from how I got there... And where you go from there might look worlds different than where I am going. You wanna know why? Because our helpless new babies don't know there is a core belief system and lifestyle waiting for them. My girls didn't know they were being born into a Christian, attachment parenting, hippy house... My oldest didn't know she was born with an epidural in a hospital. They don't know we had kids right away instead of waiting a few years. They don't know we are a "one car family," or that not all daddies have motorcycles. They don't know that some kids have more toys than them, or bigger houses than them... There are other ways to parent... Because we are entirely different people.

Struggling isn't the mark of poor parenting, it's proof that you are breathing. Constantly trying to one up your efforts, reading the latest parenting book, keeping up with the invisible standard --and I hear that soon I'll be faced with how to school my children *gasp*. Aiming to bear fruit is significantly more realistic than aiming to have a perfect garden. Guess what? Someone will always disagree with you. Birth, parenthood, relationships, adulthood-- it's all hard. I imagine this thing we call motherhood would feel like a safer place if we put down the score cards and approached our differences as teammates, instead of opponents.

Your Birth and Why I Offer So Many Options

"Your Birth and Why I Offer So Many Options"

What if I told you that you could prepare for your upcoming birth, IN your pajamas, using current, comprehensive, unbiased information? What if you could hand pick your class schedule with a certified, experienced and upbeat childbirth educator? What if I told you that this isn't crazy talk, it's real and it's available right now!?
 
Tab Moura Birth Services is now offering Online Interactive Childbirth Preparation courses! With flexible scheduling and payment plans available, I cannot imagine a more personalized experience! 
 
Class at home sounds great, but why should we pick Your Birth Experience?
Why choose Your Birth Experience? It's unbiased, meaning it tells it like it is. Are you planning for an epidural? C section? Natural hospital birth? Home birth? Birth Center? This curriculum presents the facts about childbirth, how your body works and prepares you for the unique birth experience awaiting you. We walk you through a vision building process to help you mentally prepare for any outcome, knowing that having a plan 'B', 'C', and even 'D' are sometimes necessary, but they don't have to define your experience. 

I have had a child before, how can YBE benefit me?
In short, YBE works for newbies AND veterans. Some parents enjoy having a refresher course. Others may plan to birth differently the second time; hearing the birth basics is a lot like birthing for the first time because your goals are different. Even if your plan is exactly the same as before, this curriculum can be utilized to help you have a more empowering or enjoyable experience the second time around.

Why create a birth plan? It's all out of my control anyway.
In a word? Preparation. Even if you agree entirely with the routine procedures your hospital uses, what is your plan B? Will you let them make those decisions as well? (what are those options anyway?) Then write it in your plan. Or do you want to know the options in advance so you can tailor your experience and confidently navigate your first "official" decisions as this child's parents? Whatever you choose, I guarantee you a nurse or Dr will ask you to make a decision at some point and labor is not a pleasant time to assess your options for the first time.
 
Is it time to contact me for a free consultation? I can meet in person, chat on the phone, FaceTime/Skype, or send information in the mail.

Why am I so flexible? Why is YBE so flexible? Because this experience is YOURS and we can't wait to begin preparing you for the birth experience you deserve!
Tab Moura Birth Services can be found on Facebook and online.,
Get to know Tab.

This is for the Moms (We need to stick together)

I am a mother. While this does not tell you everything that I am, I feel that it does elude to quite a bit. Today, as I survey my messy home and as I reflect on how super awesome Walmart Grocery Pick Up is... I thought of these three simple ways that all of you moms out there understand me. When I begin to feel overwhelmed... You help me remember I am not alone. We need to stick together!

We change diapers

•This is literally the first thing I imagine when I consider motherhood. I automatically can assume that the other mothers in my life have changed diapers or have potty trained their children. This is the first tool in my self-love arsenal. When I feel tempted to compare myself to other mothers, I am instantly humbled by the fact that we all handle poop... We all deserve a medal (and a nice Jacuzzi bath.)

We wash laundry... And eventually put it away

•There is a quote by Thema Davis that I have heard before, "Saying yes to happiness means learning to say "no" to things that stress you out." Yes, chores stress me out, but obviously someone needs to do them, right? So this quote isn't saying "GOODBYE RESPONSIBILITY!" Rather, it just means that each of us are also raising little people with needs (and they are freaking adorable most of the time) so we have to prioritize. We all have to do this. Sometimes we choose stress, sometimes we choose happiness... But don't worry, we all do it. We all have this in common, no matter how picture perfect we seem on Facebook.

We play

•If you have children, you probably have played make believe of some kind. Maybe your kids are like my oldest, she wants to be a Train. Not an Engineer, an actual Train. I support this. Her vibrant imagination is so sweet and full of life. Because we play, we are all a part of who our children believe they can become. The sky is the limit. When we get caught up in the routine and chaos that our days hold, we sometimes lose sight of this. We are raising Doctors, Engineers, Nurses, Politicians... They may be business owners, bosses, subordinates... Not only are we raising who they will become, but we are raising them to believe in those around them as well. Leaders and Followers. We need both. We get to let them lead, showing them how to follow. 

Do you need a healthy dose of self love? My love language is affirmation, so basically I can dish it out all day long. Leave me a message! I would love to chat. You are not alone in this big, crazy role... I'm standing with you.

What are other basic ways we can all relate as mothers? Leave your comments!

Charcoal Brownies and Grace

Based on the title alone, you're probably eager to hear what I have to say. If I am being truly transparent, I am eager to hear what else God has to say to me on this topic as well.

GRACE.

I live a rather minimalist life. As far as it depends on me, I try to scale back and really un complicate my life, home and schedule as much as I can. It's just more manageable that way. It keeps my introvert battery from reaching 'E'. It has been this way for as long as I can remember! As a child I begged my mom for alone time (since i didn't have my own room, this had to be sanctioned). It wasn't personal. It wasn't selfish... It was introversion. Our needs are quite personal when we are drained. Be it quiet, a hobby or just an empty room... We need space.

I learned a long time ago that I want to give my family good things. I want to be able to play my part. I want to love them in word AND in deed. So I make my quiet time a priority. I have learned that I cannot short cut that quality time...why? Ah yes. That's what it is. Alone time is my heart's way of receiving my love language... Self love is so vital. If I don't actively give myself LOVE... Then exactly what is it that I am giving them?

This brings to me to today's title:

Charcoal Brownies and Grace.

Yesterday I had a God moment. The day before, I ordered groceries online and arranged to pick them up before lunch the following day. I know our schedule, so I timed it perfectly. But I had forgotten my wallet at my in law's house, so I stopped there first. Upon arriving I learned that their plans were evolving, so free time had come up and they expressed willingness to watch the girls while I run over to the store. I paused thinking, Well, I ordered the groceries online... So it's really just THERE AND BACK, but 30 minutes alone sounds great! So I chugged my coffee and took off. Upon picking up the groceries, I began chatting  with the woman helping me load them. She was so sweet and kind. Obviously a mom (you can always hear it in their voices.) She could tell we had kids by what I purchased, but saw that I was alone. I joked, Here I planned my whole day around making things simple and smooth with my girls... And now I have this spontaneous time alone! Too bad I already said I would be right back! This woman, no more than 45, looked at me as if we were old friends and said, Don't go get them. Just don't. Take care of yourself. They are happy, healthy and safe. Don't go get them. I smiled and realized why I felt such a connection with her... She was being Jesus to me. So I called my mother in law, she was happy to keep them longer.

Fast forward. Jason and I communicated well. I made my needs known. We had a friend over that evening. I cooked our favorite meal, the house was in it's normal condition. Nothing extraordinary was happening. We finished our evening, our friend went home... Crap! I thought. I forgot to make brownies for Jason's work party. Offering to make brownies was really the sneakiest thing I could have done. You see, I make brownies way more often than I would like to admit. Let's just say we are wealthy with brownies. I could make them in my sleep--- Or so I thought. I put the brownie dough in the pan, preheated the oven and set a timer. Jason asked if I would cuddle with him for a bit, so we weighed our options and I chose to step away from the kitchen. As you can probably assume, I never heard the timer go off. Not because the sound doesn't carry to our room (a factor I had considered before stepping away). No, the reason I didn't hear it is because I fell asleep. I didn't foresee this happening because over the last 4 months I have been getting my alone time at night once everyone falls asleep. I was physically unable to sleep until I had that quiet time. This day was different. This day God gave me grace. He surprised me with an outting alone. He filled Gemma's extrovert batteries AND my introvert batteries at the same time. I fell asleep so naturally because I felt peaceful. 

I have been asking myself for 24 hrs now... WHY?? Why give me such a gift, why demonstrate such grace at the grocery store... If I was just going to go home and screw it up? 

A beautiful friend of mine asked me this morning "Are you surrendering to this season?" Meaning... Our kids are little for such a short time... Am I rushing? Am I expecting too much of myself? I laughed, not yet fully grasping the question: "I chose BROWNIES! Three ingredients and POOF. I chose these over making Gumbo, or chicken noodle... I am choosing easy, simple... I'm not overextending myself. Should I just quit? Should I not even do the little things for Jason?" I didn't have an answer. All I could figure is that this is unnatural. A mother cannot seriously do much less than what I have been doing. I watch kiddie shows. My 2 year old has an iPod for when I need a break. My house is minimal to reduce chores. We don't eat fancy. My 4 month old rarely wears clothes. Laundry sits in piles for days and it doesn't bother me. Where am i doing too much? What corner should I cut next? Should I hide from my kids more often? Pinterest projects are way off my radar these days. Target is my idea of a vacation. 

Tonight, laying in bed, it finally hit me. God offers grace. He gives peace. He gives second chances. He gives hope. So I had to ask myself... If there is nothing "frivolous" left to cut out, maybe it's not God who is trying to get my attention. Maybe it's Satan? YIKES. If you knew the names I have called myself today, you would be surprised it took me so long to realize this. The brownies baked for 3.5 hrs. They were black and half of our home was in smoke when I woke up. What woke me up? Not the smoke. Not the timer. Not even a smoke detector. Nope... It was Reia. GRACE. God gives grace. You see, Reia could have slept another 2 hrs. That would be her normal sleep at that time of night. But  coincidentally she just began 4 month old sleep regression. Are you realizing the same thing I just realized? He gives and takes away! God only gives good gifts. Had there been a house fire, we wouldn't have been warned by our smoke detectors. What a grace from God. Now we can replace the batteries. 

I cannot do less, all of the frivolous corners have been cut... But I CAN accept more grace. I really messed up. I am a tired mom who is just trying to imitate my Heavenly Father and give my family good things. I fell short this time, but one thing is for sure... I will treasure these two great lessons I learned about grace. By remembering these things, I will remember God's grace and dismiss Satan's accusations. You cannot give what you do not have: That applies to both grace AND the accusations. 

“What father among you, if his son asks for a fish, will instead of a fish give him a serpent; or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!””

Luke 11:11-13 ESV

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."

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?

Mexico

My spirit has felt off for a few days now with a heaviness. I feel like I am holding the mic and have been staring at my feet unsure of why I asked for this opportunity. I have talked to Jason a lot lately about my upbringing, moving around a lot and having my heart all over America… I told him it’s been something that my subconscious just doesn’t want to put down, but I couldn’t fathom why. I sometimes feel like a secret agent because I know three languages, one of which is Spanish. I have overheard WAY too many awkward things because people chose to speak freely, I mean… “who would understand!?” (I have blushed way too many times to count, just FYI… it happens a LOT.)

Earlier this week Mexico had a record breaking storm coming for it… (Picture the devastation of an EF5 tornado across a large portion of Mexico…) my head and heart were in agreement that this was exceptionally scary. I lived there for a year and a half before coming to Tulsa. I made many trips to central and southern Mexico as a child and I have MANY heart-family members down there (We named Gemma after a child I taught in bible class and I have nieces and nephews I haven’t been able to hug in over 4 years). I know you guys get what I’m saying, but my heart wants to paint a clear picture… that storm was going for my heart. In a turn of events that no one can easily explain, the storm quickly downgraded to a tropical storm once it made landfall. The “miraculous” nature of this was not predicted. By nature, hurricanes are strongest in warmer waters… which the coast of Mexico is full of. If that Cat 5 storm had made landfall at full strength, I am not exaggerating to say that 100s of thousands of impoverished people would have been in mortal danger.

So we all know that my heart paints pictures and wants to give you all the full effect… but among my great joy and relief for my loved ones to be safe, I am reminded again of how far my roots reach. I didn’t grow up “normal”… which I was naively bitter about while growing up. We spent holiday and vacation money on long drives to Mexico to serve and love on people I couldn’t understand or communicate with. A PRIVILEGE that I didn’t understand, nor did I truly see, until I lived in Mexico as an adult. At this point when I hear people talk about going to Mexico, I always envision rural or inner city… but frequently I’m met with descriptions of places like Acapulco or Cozumel.

I know I am not alone in this, which makes this sentiment even richer. I have many relationships with others who have experienced the heart of Mexico. But I want that family to grow. I may have grown up as a nomad moving and traveling quite a bit (a freaking cool experience in hindsight)… but my heart is beginning to realize what I missed. I feel like I’m dancing a new dance and I don’t know what to do with my hands. I saw this storm approaching and saw my newsfeed fill up with prayers and support for the country I love and my eyes filled with tears. Thank you for loving on my heart family. I sometimes don’t feel worthy to claim that beautiful country as a second home, but that’s my truth- my story. I have spent too much time trying to pretend like this longing has faded. So, this is for you, mis queridos… this is a portion of a poem I wrote in 2010.

“Desde que les conocí, han sido un parte de mi.
Si,les quiero, mis corazónes, y tengo un millón razones.
Y cada amanecer me acuerdo que no estan aqui a mi lado.
en mis sueños siempre ustedes serán”

Roots

This fall it has been four years since Jason and I first began to grow together as friends. As our paths converged, I felt like a train about to crash. I was consumed with how out of control my life felt at that time. I was considerably independent already. I had lived away from home since I was 17. God had always placed "framily" in my path right when I needed them, so I knew this time would be no different... but my soul was so tumultuous.

This time I was moving to live near family, my brother. He helped me find the internship that brought me to the Tulsa area, but we were working at different churches all summer, making it a little tricky to see each other at times. Still, it was so nice to have him near. Before that summer I rarely slowed down to make myself (my family) a priority. Making time for family is not only for my family members, but for myself. It's so vital for the human heart to create roots... to maintain them and feel connected somewhere. A healthy plant is a plant with deepening roots. Those are the plants that bear fruit, folks.

I found myself being nomadic. Nomadic is not inherently unhealthy. Nomads often make exceptionally deep connections, it's just not common to make "traditional" connections. Tab's version of being a nomad was like being a plant that was frequently transplanted, but never to a larger pot. That's not to say that "deeper" wasn't an option, I just didn't make time for deeper. Deeper was scary, but why?

In a deeper pot there is more room... in more room, there is more freedom, options, etc... but with deeper roots, it becomes harder and more complicated to uproot. When I day dreamed about the future, I just felt confined. New jobs, new relationships, new residence, new routine... a whole lot of roots! What if I didn't like what I planted myself into? What if a couple of years down the road I didn't like the pot I chose!? "The deeper I go the harder it will be to leave!" I told myself it was about the details... It would be too much work to acclimate to a new city, new job, new apartment... but truthfully, I was terrified of rooting my heart into a new place. Growing roots isn't scary. No, knowing you can never return to the way things were is what's truly scary. So I chose another small pot.

If I were being objective here, I would point out another aspect of what it means to choose a small pot. Some people grow in roughly the same place their entire lives... their primary relationships basically chosen for them by circumstance, not by choice. Their days are filled with tradition, family, routine and rhythm. Much like my nomadic comfort zone, both of these paths WORK and suit the lifestyle they accessorize. Both the house-plants and the nomadic-plants make attempts to experience the other's lifestyle. This isn't because one is better than the other, it's because both are beautiful OPTIONS.

So what does "healthy" look like?

Surely the house-plant deserves to explore when they desire it and the nomad-plant deserves to find a sanctuary when they need it. More to the original point, what's a nomadic girl to do when she transplants herself to Eastern Oklahoma, gets married and deepens her roots?!

Baby steps and balance.

She shops for a bigger pot, she gets her hands dirty exploring her new boundaries, then she breaks the smaller pot. Larger plants can still transplant when necessary... but when a plant has expanded and grown into it's new space, it cannot go back where it came from and still hold onto it's new growth. Onward and upward, friends!

From moving cities and states every other year, to now living in small town Glenpool, owning a 3 bed, 2 bath home! For the first time in my life my nomad-plant day dreams include things like weekly game nights and sporting events, white picket fences and drive in movies... it's scary and amazing all intertwined! This nomad is dabbling, getting a delicious taste of house-plant life, things that wouldn't make sense in my old lifestyle. I'm finding a sanctuary.

Which plant are you?

Is it time to buy a larger pot?

Is it time to make room for new?

Oceans

If you have read my other blogs, you know that I have been writing a series focusing on the song by Hillsong United, called Oceans. It didn't occur to me until today that "Oceans" is plural. I chuckled to myself as I made a host of new connections immediately following. When I hear that word with this realization, it takes on new meaning. An ocean, singular, is unique. It's a new adventure. It has new challenges. Even visiting the same ocean twice will feel different... because we are different. Maybe we have aged, we have overcome these waves before, so we may spend more time contemplating the sand or observing the horizon. So when I hear the word oceans, pluralized, I hear something huge. But I will come back to this shortly.

The last 6 weeks have been... wow. Since the last time I wrote to you all, I am just amazed at how much life has transpired. We welcomed a beautiful baby girl on August 14th, after 4 weeks of what would be considered "early labor" contractions and long nights. I spent a lot of time trying to pace myself, rest and soak up my life as I knew it. 

I was blessed to have my mom stay with us to help make the transition easier and entertain our sweet Gemma when I was 41 weeks along and READY to have a baby. You see, I have had a baby before... Been to that "ocean", got a great souvenir :-). However, I also came away a little wounded. Over the course of my pregnancy I made MANY conscious (and sometimes uncomfortable) choices with the goal of having a healthier and more positive birth experience this second pregnancy. I know that nothing I did could guarantee that I would have the birth that I wanted, which is why I focused on taking care of the "scars" from our first birth and investing in a healthy mom and baby (as far as it depended on me.) The rest I gave to God. I have visited this ocean before, but it was a different season... I had a new pair of eyes this time and a knowledge of how vitally a healthy birth AND positive experience would play into my long term health.

Reia weighed 9lbs even and was born in a record 2 hrs of true labor. She was born at home (insert Jim Gaffigan joke here) and I was blessed to be able to "catch" her myself. Everything I knew about this ocean was old news... This was a whole new experience. It was beautiful and healing.

This is where the true revelation about the word "Oceans" came about. Moments after Reia was born I attempted to nurse her for the first time, only to realize she had trouble latching on, upon examining her mouth our midwife realized this was due to lip and tongue "ties." My heart sank a little. You see, this too is an "ocean" I have experienced before. Breastfeeding was increasingly more painful and within two days I experienced bleeding. We were using all the tools in our tool box to deal with this... Just two years ago we dealt with Gemma's lip and tongue ties and similar issues that followed. To put this in analogy terms: These waves SUCKED, the sand was stuck between my toes, I wasn't wearing enough sunscreen and I got stung by a jelly fish... this ocean was not an ocean I wanted to visit again. 

"Your grace abounds in deepest waters. Your sovereign hand will be my guide. Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me, You've never failed and You won't start now!"

These oceans aren't puddles. They aren't piddly little lakes, guys. These are mountains of water. These are familiar, but never predictable.

As I observed the ocean ahead of me, noticing that Reia's ties were definitely going to be an issue, I became emotional. The first time we were in this place, we didn't know what was coming. We didn't know it would mean gallons of tears from myself and Gemma. We didn't know that people wouldn't understand and would diminish our experience. This time, I could see the waves for what they are... I felt the hot sun, I remembered the strong current. I didn't want to be here again... but I WAS here. And I AM here. This ocean is the same, but wisdom and experience (and PLENTY of help) is helping me to navigate these waters for the second time.

Some oceans are intense, challenging and exhausting... but some are incredible and exciting adventures. Having two beautiful gifts from God to call my own is proving to be an extremely magnificent adventure. Between the tantrums and dirty diapers, nap schedules and snacks, laugh attacks and lullabies, night time prayers and morning kisses... the ocean I am in right now is worth the work. Most importantly, I am worth the work.

This life of mine is a gift. The many oceans I have seen, touched, endured, surfed and dog-paddled in... they are my life... and the secret to truly enjoying a life full of oceans is simple...

"Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders. Let me walk upon the waters wherever You would call me. Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander and my faith will be made stronger in the presence of my Savior"

The Great Unknown

Hey friends!

This may very well be the last blog post I write before our second child arrives. I'm due anyday now! 

My heart feels calm.

I am not talking about "prepared," though arguably we are quite prepared as we have had two children before. The calm that I feel is because I don't know what is on the horizon and I find that exciting. I have never met this little person before. I don't know what they look like or how they smell. I don't know if they will sleep all the time or keep us up at all hours, breaking glass with their screaming. I don't know if they will be perfectly healthy or have their struggles. 

I don't know. 

But that is beautiful to me. It makes me feel closer to God. Because HE does know.

I think back on the 26 years of life that I have lived. I have memories from when I was 3, awaiting my baby sister. I knew mom's belly had grown, but I had no idea that she would soon give birth to my competition 😉. I definitely didn't know that she would give birth to an incredible person that (with time) I grew to appreciate and now love, 23 years later. 

I had no idea that being the 4th of 5 children would mean that I rarely spent time alone and rarely wore brand new clothing. I had no idea that these things would just create a stronger bond between myself and my siblings as we are unafraid of sharing our hearts and lives with each other. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I had no idea that our crazy, busy household would fill me with so much compassion for those who are in need of family. 

I didn't know!

I had no idea that my freshman year of college would be one of the hardest things I've ever done and one of the loneliest years of my life. I didn't know that I didn't know who I was... And that was horrifying, but was exactly what I needed.

People. I didn't know.

I feel calm because I may not be in control of the future, but I am in control of how I look at it. I set the boundaries today that become paths tomorrow. My perception is on a leash, I can make the most of what comes... Even if what comes SUCKS. 

The great unknown is terrifying and exciting. It's wild and mysterious. It will be hard and kick my butt sometimes, it will stretch me and grow me and scare the hell out of me... But when I think back on where I have come from, I feel calm knowing it's always been out of my hands. 

That's the true secret to feeling peaceful: Being wise enough to know I cannot control ____. But being brave enough to live knowing that ____ can only control me if I let it. 

This week that blank is "becoming a mother of a second child"... Next week it may be something else. 

Get used to being in the unknown. That's where God really works His magic.

Have you listened to Oceans, by Hillsong United recently? This is the second-to-last post in my series of blogs inspired by this song. Take a listen, listen with your heart!

http://youtu.be/DGRz2BJQRXU