This morning at about 6:00 am, I am awakened by Gavin coughing. While I almost hate to admit this, my first thought was, "Shhh. Please. Shhhh. You are going to wake Joey." When it continued, I again thought to myself, "Shhhh. C'mon! What are you doing?! You never cough. Are you trying to wake everyone up?" Then, Gavin calls out, "I have to go potty." He had a really sad and painful sound to his voice but I thought that since Doug just got home from a business trip last night, that Gavin was just really eager for some daddy time. Doug got up to take him to the bathroom.

I laid in bed willing my bedroom door closed. It didn't work. I heard the bathroom door opening and closing. Repeatedly. I heard footsteps. Then the bathroom door again. Then the shower. I was slightly perturbed that Doug was making so much noise. Amazingly, Joey slept through it all. Thank goodness. Then I drifted back to sleep. I am awakened by Doug telling me that Gavin had spent the whole morning throwing up. He threw up all over his bed (Oh.. so that was the coughing!).
Gavin had no fever. When I asked him how he felt, he said, "I feel good, Mommy." A few minutes later he starts coughing and back to the bathroom we go. I decided that today would be a good lay on the couch and watch a movie, read some books kind of day. Halfway through the movie my dad stopped by to visit and check on the sick-o. After a few books, Gavin is wanting a snack and wants to play. Everything is now back to normal. All very weird.

Gavin has always been a very healthy kid. Almost freakishly healthy. He has never been to the doctor for any reason other than a check-up. He has had the sniffles twice but never needed any medicine to recover. He had one other episode of vomiting but much like today, never had a fever and was fine within 6 hours.

But the reason I am sharing all of this is not to gross you all out with puke stories but to share this. It is so disgusting to be sick. There is nothing attractive about vomiting. And while I certainly didn't enjoy seeing what I saw this morning, I was not grossed out in the least. Well... small fib. I was a little grossed out at one point but, while sparing the gory details, it involved my bare feet and Gavin not quite hitting the mark. I know people always tell you it is different when it is your own kids but it is so true. I prefer not to have sick days but taking care of my sick little one is just one of the many joys of being a mom.

I have posted before about how I went through so much testing and wild attempts to "save" my pregnancies. All the tests came back normal, aside from the MTHFR and the PAI-1, but nothing that clearly explained my losses. I tried the progesterone, prescription Folic Acid, and the Lovenox and nothing did the trick. I know that so many other women are in the same position I am with recurrent losses and nothing in the way of an explanation. Doug and I talked about how there are just so many things that may or may not contribute to a possible miscarriage. There is just no way for any doctor to possible know all of the things to even test for. Our bodies are so intricate and complicated that there must be a million different possible "glitches" that could take place that results in a loss.

This may seem oddly placed but let me tell you a little bit about my morning. After waking up earlier than I would have liked I changed Joey's diaper. He has been fighting a bit of a diaper rash so I put some Calmoseptine on his bottom and then since that stuff is like Spackle, I used a wipe to get the remaining cream off of my finger. I then headed to the kitchen to get breakfast ready. After prepping 3 different unique breakfasts, I had made a bit of a mess so cleaned up with some Mr. Clean (with Febreeze). Then after eating I went to get ready to go to my exercise class. Brushed my teeth, washed my face, put on deodorant, etc. and got dressed.

Pretty mundane as far as morning routines go but lets go back and think about what I really did. In a matter of about 40 minutes my skin absorbed the chemicals of the diaper cream, the wipes, the kitchen cleaner, the toothpaste, face wash, deodorant, and when I put on my clothes I was coming into contact with the laundry detergent, fabric softener, and dryer sheets. Interestingly enough, I just realized today that the Mr. Clean Kitchen and Bathroom cleaner says that if it is used on any surface in which food comes into direct contact a rinse is required. So from now on I have to clean up my kitchen after I use my kitchen cleaner. Great news.

I don't think that God designed our bodies to come into contact with so many chemicals. We are soaking up so many things that our bodies just don't know what to do with. I am going to make it a goal of mine to get back to basics as much as possible. I want to use only the products that my 98 year old grandmother used in her youth. I don't know if this has anything to do with my losses but I do know that limiting my exposure, and the boys' exposure, to toxins can't hurt them. And while there is no way of knowing, maybe, just maybe, this will help protect my future children, too.

With the recent disaster in Japan, I have been reminded of something that I often wonder about. Why is it that when there is a tragedy, be it a natural disaster, a horrible accident, or maybe the events that transpired on 9/11/2001, there is always an outpouring of prayers? People aren't afraid to speak openly about praying to God for the victims, the survivors, and anyone affected by these happenings. But talking about Christianity without a tragedy is for crazy religious whack jobs. No one wants to acknowledge the existence of God (at least publicly) unless there is a shield of some difficult to understand event.

Lets say, for instance, we are standing on a street corner and we look up just in time to see a man on a motorcycle get hit at a high rate of speed by a semi truck. I am sure I am not alone in thinking that the first words to leave my mouth would be "Oh My God!" Then, others who witnessed the scene, would gather and watch in disbelief. If someone in that group of onlookers suggested that we bow our heads and pray for the man on the motorcycle, I don' think that anyone would disagree with the idea.

Now, lets just suppose the same scenario takes place minus the motorcycle and minus the semi truck. Now it is just a group of people standing together. Someone suggests saying a prayer. I can imagine there would be looks of confusion. Why would we just pray for no reason? No one is sick or dying that we know of. Right?

I know it is totally unrealistic to think that people would just stop on the street and start praying for each other. But I think it is worth asking ourselves why we don't. I think so many of us have been trained by main stream media to think that the majority of people do not believe in God and to openly suggest that we do might offend someone. I think we should be proud enough of our faith in God to pray openly without a tragedy in our midst. Our prayers shouldn't be reserved for asking God for a huge, huge favor when we really need something. We should be thanking God every day for everything he has blessed us with.

Before I became a mother,I worked in the mental health field. It was nearly everyday that it was noted in someone's file that they were schizophrenic. They heard voices. IF this was the only criteria for schizophrenia then I would have to say that I am, indeed, schizophrenic. Every morning, the voice in my head coaxes me to get motivated to climb out from under the warm blankets on my bed. The voice in my head then helps me choose what to wear. Then the voice helps me decide between a pop tart or a bowl of cereal for breakfast. The voice in my head helps me decide what is appropriate to say in a conversation. It helps me decide how to respond to my son's inappropriate behavior. It helps me in everything I do. Everyday.

When asking someone who may or may not be mentally ill if they hear voices is really unfair. I think we all hear voices. It is just a matter of if we identify that voice as being our own. I used to always think that that voice was me. But after giving it more thought, I think that voice in my head is God helping me with my day. God is present in everything that we do and he is always willing to communicate with us, if we are willing to listen. And, if I am ever not sure about what I should do, if I ask Him, He will answer.

I have decided to really focus on listening to that voice in my head. God is trying to tell me what I need to know all the time. I need to listen. I also need to beware that the Satan isn't able to permeate my head and convince me to do evil.

This must be what people mean when they say that God spoke to them. They must really be listening, ready to really hear and really do God's will. I need to better job of being schizophrenic and letting God direct me.



Just for fun. This is Gavin a few years ago.

I know how hard it is to go through a pregnancy loss. I know that most women agree that a loss is a loss, regardless of when it happens in a pregnancy but I am thankful that I lost my pregnancies early. My heart breaks every time I hear about a late term loss or a still birth. I literally shed tears and my heart aches. It is almost more painful than my own early losses.

Then, on a whole other level of loss and pain, I read stories like that of the Staats family. I read this woman's blog last night and cried so hard for her that I had to take breaks so that I could catch my breath. I couldn't even tell Doug what I was reading because words couldn't come out of my mouth.

Last night, with a tired and tear stained face, I was slowly drifting off to sleep. A few a moments later I was awakened by Joey. I went to his room and gave him the pacifier that had fallen from his mouth and tiptoed out of the room. I crawled back to bed eager to get warm and comfortable again to be awakened by his cries. I went into his room, calmed him again, and just stood there. I cried for Maddie's mom. I was calming my fussy baby, initially frustrated by my desire for sleep, only to recognize how many women were crying in their beds because of having an empty crib with no crying baby.

I took a few moments and prayed for all of these women. I prayed that they find peace and that they look to God for His comfort. Then, I thanked God for all of my blessings. It is easy to take for granted all of the wonderful things we have and I have to thank Maddie for reminding me to hold my boys just a little bit closer for just a little bit longer.

It is days like today that make me question if I am really ready for another baby. Last night, Joey fell asleep like a dream and then, after about 3 hours of good sleep, he was done. He started crying and would fall back asleep for about 10 minutes. Which, coincidentally, was just long enough for me to get comfortable, warm, and halfway to Sleepytown. I would do this same agonizing cycle for a couple of hours when I finally gave up.

I let Joey sleep in bed with us. He always sleeps like a log when he is nestled between Doug and I. He rests his arm on my head or back and will sleep soundly until Gavin shouts, "Time to wake up!" promptly at 7 AM. Last night was a little different though. Gavin had his first nightmare. At 3 years old, he hasn't been able to really explain what it was about but inferring from the scream at 3:30 AM, it had something to do with a missing sock. Yes. A nightmare about a missing sock. I found him in the hallway, shouting, "I need my sock back!!! I need my sock back!!!" through tears of shear agony. It broke my heart to see him so scared and disturbed but I couldn't help but smile that his first bad dream was about a sock.

I took him to the bathroom to hopefully distract him from the thoughts of the dream. I reassured him that I would help him find any and all socks when the sun came up. I tucked him back into bed and shared a few minutes of cuddling and told him how much I loved him. I crawled back into bed next to Joey who was awake but calm. I was about to drift off when I realized that the monitor that goes to Gavin's room wasn't working because I could hear him calling for me but his voice was coming through the wall, not the monitor. After a couple of minutes of figuring out the monitor, Gavin started crying that he needed to go potty. Again. Doug volunteered to take him this time. He finally settled back in. And we all got to have a couple more hours of sleep.

We had a pleasant morning until we discovered that our heat wasn't working and there wasn't any firewood brought in the house. Since the inside temperature was 61 degrees, it was a good day to go shopping. That went well and both boys were manageable. Once we returned and ate lunch, it wasn't long before nap time arrived. Joey hasn't been napping very well or very long lately so I was prepared for a challenge on that front. Gavin, on the other hand, had been telling me all morning how he was still tired. After last night, I can't say that I was surprised. I was tired too. So, I took Gavin up for his nap. Then fed Joey and took him up for his nap. Joey, was acting tired but wanted me to stand right by his crib while he fell asleep. Meanwhile I am hearing Gavin shouting, "MOOOOOOOOOOOM!? CAN YOU HEAR ME?!" Of course Joey was hearing it too and listening attentively to his shrill shouts.

I walked away from the crib to hear Joey instantly scream. I went to Gavin to ask him what he needed, trying to maintain my patience despite being able to feel the anxiety and shear exhaustion bubbling up. He requested some books to read. Okay. Easy enough. I go back to Joey's room and get him settled back down again. I finally see him drift off to sleep. I come downstairs to unwind, relax, watch some TV that isn't animated, and blog. I had just enough time to log into my computer to hear Gavin, in his innocent yet seemingly manipulative voice say the dreaded words, "I have to go potty." In my effort to get everyone along to nap, I had forgotten to make sure he went potty before he went to bed. My eyes actually started to water. Not exactly tears but just moisture that wanted to drip out to relieve some of the stress. Upstairs I go. Then, almost as if he was determined to ensure that I didn't have time to do anything other than tend to him, he tells me, "I am going to go pee. Then poop." Ugg.

So, as I finally am able to sit down and relax without any little voices, I have to wonder... Am I really ready to add to my family? I know that in a few months, today will be just a distant memory. Everyone has rough days, right? I wonder if there is ever an ideal time to add to a family. Won't there always be rough times no matter their ages? Maybe this is God's way of showing me, "See. I know what I am doing. I'll add to your family when I know you are ready."

Clearly, I am not ready today.