An Ode to my Mother

Like most major holidays, I get reflective on the meaning of the day. I don't think that I am a particularly celebratory person by nature but holidays help with the habit of celebration. Mother's Day, however, doesn't require much reminding. The more minutes I spend being a mother propel me into thankfulness for the investment of my own mother-friend.

Mom, In the earliest moments of becoming a mother, I know I made you laugh with all of my wonder and amazement at the process of growing a human and in my frantic grasping to gain some mother skills during the first year of being Myles' mom. Here are a few of my thank you's and hopes for my own journey in light of you mom. 

The Sibling at my wedding, 2008

1. I hope I can support like you. You are a quiet kind of support. Not the kind of over the top personality that makes a big to-do. Instead, you are the kind of quiet strength that makes it look like we are the strong ones, when all along it is you who are infusing us with confidence just because you show up. I pray that I will give this same power of presence to M & M as they grow into who God has created them to be. 

Pregnant me...Spring 2012

2. I hope I can "favorite" like you. We always give you a hard time that one of the people in the below picture is your favorite and your reply is always the same...A little bit of a laugh and some definite annoyance..."You are all my favorites in your own way." Even though this sounds like a major "mom" thing to say, it is completely believeable from you. Somehow you make all four of your kids feel like we are worth being proud of and that we contribute importantly and uniquely to the world. Thank you for loving us into that kind of particular and special security. I think your attraction of our differences helps us like ourselves without competing with each other.

Mom and Sisters circa 2011---Sarah's Graduation party

3. I hope I can let-go like you. I remember the great dread that filled my heart when I looked at tiny little Myles knowing that I am only stewarding his child to adult life and then he will leave me. I don't know how a person invests all of themselves with an open heart, only to send that love out into the world to find a different center and a new home. I hope I can do it like you have done it. Your transition to mother-friend was so seamless. And maybe you were just tired because we were a heavy bunch to carry...but I think no. It was your selfless, life-work that you had dedicated to the Lord so long before you had to send us off. Thank you for modeling the let-go so well. It makes our coming back so voluntary. I want that for my littles.

Leah's wedding---September 2011

4. I hope I can celebrate like you. You know each of us and try to make sure that you have all the details just right for the way we best celebrate. You know that Leah loves cherry sours and Terry is all about the sour patch kids. You make sure to get something different for my Christmas sock because candy isn't really my thing. You worry that you will get a detail wrong and not because you are worried about you. You genuinely want us to know that we were considered in every aspect of your plan. How do you do that? I hope I can have that kind of mother-love eventually. Kids deserve to feel the way you still make us feel. 

Prayer time at my wedding

Happy Mothers' Day Mom! Thank you for hanging with all of the high-demands that we put on you. We hope you get as much joy as you have made possible for all of us. 

Too Perfect

A little while ago, a friend of mine told me that I seem too perfect. I give off an air of impermeable strength. It's not the first time someone has put this label on me but it is certainly not a tag I would hang on my own. The exchange reminded of a time when a girl walked up to me and informed me that I'm "intimidating." That one comment from an innocent 18 year old haunted me for a while.

The most recent comment by my friend started a new internal dialogue for me. What is the right amount of vulnerability to display? When someone asks how I am and I'm rushed to a meeting, should I stop and let my heart fall out? "Hi! How are you?" is not a true invitation to tell you that I'm struggling.  There does not seem to be a quick way to tell the truth and so often the truth is not as simple as the answer to such a short question. Perhaps the reason we get perfect images of one another is not so much because we are pretending but because we ask perfect oriented questions in places that are designed for passing not pausing.

We live in a filtered image or a let it all hang out kind of world. One extreme tempts us to make our lives look more attractive than they are. The other extreme is one train wreck story to the next in an effort to just keep it real. I'm not sure that we serve ourselves or our relationships well when we live in either extreme. I'm more unsure of hyper-perfection or drama as a good glimpse of an authentic life. 

How can we live lives that are intentional and real in a world that is insta-published and snap-documented? I don't know that the answer is for us to all just stop applying retro filters or to get off social media in order to get real with people. Perhaps a solution among many is to live real life with people... To remind ourselves that people do present their best selves at work and online...and that may be okay. Our real pain and struggle should happen in the context of friendship conversation. We should embrace the expressions of one another's faces in the space of our homes and coffee dates or on a long-run with a treasured friend. We should ask questions that elicit real answers and then wait long enough for the life of it all to hang over the edges. 

PS. Keep on posting your cute kids and your happy couple photos. I love seeing your vacations and smiling dog pictures. I love seeing your best days and I cheer on your good. 

The story of Maris’ birth: An unexpected entry

-Prologue-

A few weeks before Maris was born, I began to have a sense that I may need to have her naturally. The thought first entered my head after reading the blog of a friend who told about the birth of her third son. The labor was completed without aid of any kind of medicine and thanks to the good work of a mid-wife, his head came out perfectly round, mother un-torn. (TMI? You did read the title of this blog right?!) Now I have always known this mama was a rockstar and this was baby two of three that had come along without drugs. It was not the facts alone that caught my attention. It was something else, unidentified (even still) that caught my heart. I read the story with tears in my eyes. Pregnant woman crying? No shock there. The story, however, lingered with me and then a thought burst through my otherwise stubborn head. “What if I went natural?”

Now, you must know, I have really had a sense of dumbfounded confusion at these people who in this place in history would choose to have a baby sans drugs. Truly, I did not even want to know why someone would entertain the notion of willing pain. When there is relief from pain offered…particularly when facing the feat of pushing something the size of a small watermelon out of….well you get the picture. My feeling was, at the end of the day, natural, c-section or the (God-Blessed) Epidural, we all ended up with a baby. Given my strongly held belief about the value and important nature of drug relief from pain, the thought of going natural was not something that interested me in the least. So the entrance of the little question….”What if I went natural?” was something of another world.

January 31, 2015

On Saturday, Jan 31^st, my sis and I had planned to get our nails and toes done at a cute little place in North OKC. My son was staying with grandma and time alone with my sister is not a frequent occurrence. I got  my 39 week self ready (sort of) and set off to our 11am appointment. People were looking at me with that sympathy look. You know, the one that says, “You poor (HUGE) thing, you could probably drop that baby out in this pedicure spa.” The lady doing my toes asked (with wide eyes), “When are you due?” The question was repeated by sympathetic patrons and other nail techs. “I would just smile and say, oh, next week but it will probably be a couple more, my first one was late.” I fully anticipated returning to work on Monday and had made meeting appointments for the upcoming two weeks with people.

When our nails and toes were done, about noon, I waddled (in a dignified manner) to my car. Terry called and asked if I could pick up Myles from his mom’s house. A few minutes after 12pm I arrived at the Big Rimmers and was greeted by a bouncing toddler who excitedly asked me to eat grilled cheese with him. I sat down with him and ate my grilled cheese…and his (I was 39 weeks preg, give me a break). Just before 1pm, I asked Terry’s sister to help me get Myles into the car because something didn’t feel right in my back and the thought of picking him up was somewhat overwhelming. At 1pm, we got in the car and drove home to get Myles to sleep for his nap.

While I was driving I felt what seemed like it might be a contraction. I looked at the clock. 1:04pm. At 1:09pm, I felt another probable contraction. That can’t be right. Five minutes apart with no previous warning is unlikely. I quickly downloaded an app to count my contractions and started timing them. By the time I got home, about 1:30pm, my contractions were close together. “Terry, I think my contractions are two minutes apart.” (In true Terry style) “Well, that is quite frequent,” he said. I asked him if we should go to the hospital and he said that if I wanted to have natural labor, it would likely be more comfortable at home.

I sat down to read a book to get ready for my staff meeting the next day. I was breathing through some pretty good contractions at this point. I asked Terry to download a movie. He said, “From the sound of it, you are not going to make it through the download.” He went to clean the kitchen instead. Feeling guilty that I wasn’t cleaning but knowing that I needed to stay put, heating pad in place, I tried to keep reading. A couple of pages later, I asked him to call his mom ‘just in case’ we needed to go to the hospital. While he was on the phone with her, I let out a blood curdling scream….”YOU GOTTA HELP ME!!!!” He came quickly. It was clear to both of us at that point that this was not labor that was going to back off. Our baby was on her way.

(In distress) “I can’t wear this to the hospital…my shirt and pants don’t match!” Torn between helping me and loading the car, Terry got me back to our bedroom to change, where I proceeded to scream my head off because the contractions were coming right on top of each other. At 2:27pm, we were in the car, pulling out of the garage. Myles was still asleep in his room and we were two steps away from getting the neighbor to come sit with him until someone from Terry’s family arrived. I called my mom (Totally losing my mind) and let her know what was going on. At first, she was concerned that someone may have been in an accident from the hysteria. They she calmly said, “This is labor.” (The woman had four children naturally) Now on speaker, I hear my dad say, “We will pray for you.” I hung up before I could hear the prayer. That was the only call I mad before I threw my phone to Terry so I could concentrate on losing my mind.

It was a rainy Saturday and people were out for their leisurely drive. This pace simply did not work for a man who had a normally controlled woman absolutely going ballistic in the seat next to him. I was screaming, “Jesus, Help me!! You gotta help me!!” Perhaps the most sincere prayer of faith I have ever uttered. Terry began dodging cars in a race to I-40 and then raced down the interstate to the hospital. By the time we reach downtown, he was running red lights. About Western and Reno, I hit a decibel of screaming that unnerved by darling husband and he was ready to jump in with his medical training. “Do we need to pull over?” he asked. Waving frantically for him to go, we drove on.

At 2:48pm, we arrived at the hospital. We parked in physician parking (perk!) and buzzed in at the door. Terry calmly stated, “We need to be checked for labor.” I was doubled over. They went to get a wheelchair and we were rolling. I am not sure how I ended up on the hospital bed but they got it as low as they could and started trying to help the screaming lady. With one fistful of Terry’s jeans and the other hand gripping the hospital bed, I labored, signed paperwork, got checked and screamed for drugs. Upon arrival, I was an 8, probably 20 minutes later, I was complete. I began having the urge to push and let everyone on the wing  know that she was about to come out. They held me steady. My doctor was still on her way. Not really knowing where I was or how much longer I had to endure the pain I caved and got a spinal block. 2 minutes after my spinal block, my doctor walked in the room and we were ready to push.

Spinal blocks are kind of a weird thing because it literally seemed like someone else’s legs were in front of me and the control of pushing was completely gone. I did the best I could with my mind telling my body what to do but ultimately we had to use the vacuum. My doctor later told me that we would have had to use the vacuum anyway because the cord was wrapped around her neck. She indicated that a vacuum with no meds to help can be pretty brutal.

At 3:47pm, only an hour after our arrival at the hospital, Maris Grace Rimmer entered the world. Upon first sight, [after getting over the shock of how much she looked like Myles] I loved her. I felt like she had already been mine forever. Everything about her was perfect to me and ‘skin to skin’ was heaven.

I know now that the strange premonition that I needed to go natural was just God preparing me to labor without aid. It is interesting how he takes care of all the details, even the ones we don’t know we need.

Mothering in love not bitterness

Can I be honest? (Those that know me well understand how rhetorical that question is) I don't always love mothering. I have one of those kids who is just beautiful looking. My entire instagram is dedicated to this boy and his cute faces.

(Was I right? or what?) I have a beautiful boy with gorgeous brown eyes. I have a wonderful family and so many wonderful things to be thankful for. And if I could let you in my head, you would not always find wonderful thoughts. I understand those moms who just walk away. I called my mom crying just a few weeks ago wishing that I could give back my title and responsibility. Here is what you need to know, this boy is precious. He is funny and smart and loves to dance. I am just sure that he is not more difficult than other kids. He loves books and his mommy. He wants me around all of the time. And truthfully? I am glad to drop his sweet self off with Miss Tina, everyday. 

But I noticed something about myself lately. My feelings toward motherhood were not waxing and waning with normal toddler incidents. Oh sure, my heart would melt with every use of mommy but positive sentiments were largely being replaced with little seeds of bitterness. Why am I so tired all the time? Why am I so impatient? Why don't I feel as gooey and melty as all the other moms seem on Facebook and Instagram? 

Seeds of bitterness give birth to roots. The roots on any plant system feed the entire system. When we allow bitterness to go unchecked, it can lead to a heart that is hardened toward the good things and cynical toward thankfulness. I saw my bitter root growing anytime people would ask the inevitable nice person question, "How's Myles?" It is a friendly question and people want to hear you say positive things, but I didn't have a positive lens. 

God began to work on my heart toward my sweet boy. Not just because of my image of the kind of mother I want to be but also because of the type of Christian I want to be. He began to prod my conscience about parenting but more importantly about loving my son with the kind of Christ-Love that he has given me. I need to resist the urge to allow difficulties in my parenting to turn to cynicism that drops seeds of bitterness in my heart. Not just because I have a beautiful son but because I have a beautiful Savior. 

Ephesians 4:31-32 Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. ³² Be kind and compassionate to one another,forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.

Ideas that have changed my life....

After the OKC Full 2013- Terry Rocked it and SB was awesome to run my last 6 miles with me

Running the Dallas Half in 2012

I have been reflecting for a long while on ideas that have changed my life. Some of them are big, powerful, deep ideas and others are just something someone said that made an impact. That impact resulted in some sort of change in me. Either I changed the way I thought about something or just the way I did things but in every case, my life has been changed.

After reflecting on several of these ideas, I thought I would share them. Many of them came from you dear readers. (If there are in fact any readers---Thanks Mom and Leah) This is going to be a series of sorts. The thread that runs through each of these posts will be impact.

Today's credit for changing my life goes to Coach Cameron, my high school cross country coach. I began running cross country in the ninth grade. I probably thought at the time that it would help me be fit (emphasis on looks only) and that worked for me. Coach Cameron was so gracious. There was no 'cutting people' from the cross country team. He saw further than competition. And that vision is what led him to say his life impacting saying. I remember him regularly saying, "Running is the only sport you can do your whole life." I liked that. I thought, "that is good for me, maybe at some point I will become a real runner if I have that long to figure it out."  I never saw myself as an athlete.  But Coach C taught me to run and to be a runner.

As I mentioned, I began running in the ninth grade. For about a year up to that point I had pretty well adopted disordered eating habits. I had strongly restricted calories, ate almost no fat at all and would eat peppermints and drink water at lunch to keep my stomach from feeling hungry. I wanted to stop feeling fat and ugly. I wanted to be pretty and for people to like me. And losing from a size seven to a size three in middle school did that for me. When I began running, my body pushed back and demanded that I change how I ate. It also gave me another sense of how to measure my body....against strength and health, not just looks and feelings. Running saved me. Running saved me from an image of myself and a value system that was dangerous and less than honoring to God.

Running also gave me some things. It gave me the ability to make friends with people over a common interest. It gave me time to be with my thoughts and work things out. It gave me a way to balance my emotions with natural chemical responses. It gave me a hobby and a way to be alive with creation. It gave me friends.  Even now, I know if I want to make friends with someone, if I can just get them to run with me, we will connect. Running changed my life and I owe that gift to Coach Cameron who inspired me to adopt it for my whole life with his one statement.

My sweet friends after our last OKC Marathon Training Run

You never know when you are saying that thing that is changing someone's life.

"The power of life and death are in the tongue. Those who love it will eat its fruit." Prov. 18:21

2013

  

Hello January 1^st, I hope you have seriously reconsidered they type of year you bring in light of last years’ damage. 2013 was kind of a bust. I can only remember one year of my life bringing more distress and it was roughly a decade ago. I suppose for that kind of reprieve, I should be thankful. I’m just not there yet. I’m trying to get up from the dust and reawaken a soul that was nearly lost this year. So goodbye 2013, you won’t be missed. My one hope is that the death you brought would birth new life inside of me soon.

 This time last year was the eve of loss. I could not know how much at the time. When I began to lose, I guess something inside of me thought that loss was equated a threat to my very person. I remember the first waves of loss that began to rush over me. It wasn't just the loss of a grandfather. It was the loss of ideals and pictures of control. Ideas of how I should feel when a grandparent passes. Pictures of feeling more in control and at peace.  My emotions were ill-fit for the pace of my life. If there is any part of me that gets the brunt of neglect, it is my emotions. I didn't have time to lose control. Work and faith and mothering and being a faithful spouse and being a student, training for a marathon all required a certain cadence and energy that I could not give another person, including myself. I did not have time to stop and deal with my heart. Sit tight, I told her, you will have to wait until I have time to deal with your disorder. And January 21st came and went and I kept moving. Moving past the funeral, past my feelings and on to my next demand.

I remember jokingly telling my grandpa Joe that he was not allowed to die as we stood at the graveside of my grandpa McCord's burial. My grandmother doting over my song at the funeral and casually planning for me to sing at hers one day...I was serious about my orders...No one else can die.... I can't handle the loss. Please consider my sanity and stay with me another year. But May 23rd came and loss was mine again. I can't handle it, I told God. Strengthening my grip on all the shaky pieces of my life, I told my heart to sit tight, I would get to her soon enough. Even missing the funeral because there were already wonderful 5-year anniversary plans that demanded to be met. "He would have wanted you to keep your plans." my grandmother said. And she was right. But my heart was still waiting on me. I brushed past her again. I will get to you. 

I have been mentally trying to resolve myself for months. There was even a lingering conclusion type blog that is dangling in the draft folder of my phone. I could not finish it because I wasn't at a place of closer. I had stopped short of despairing of life but I could not make meaning of the pain so I continued on my journey away from the pain into a place of total feelinglessness. (Not a word but go with me)

I'm kind of a conclusions person. I always want to know: What did we learn? How did this help? What can we change? But that kind of reflective learning requires a heart that is alive. And that is my problem. 2013 tried to kill me and I was a willing participant in the process. What I did not realize in the participation was that  I was risking was the death of my heart. See, hearts can't wait forever. I asked my heart to do something it just couldn't do.  

There is a researcher (who I adore), named Brene Brown. In a ted talk (found here) she talks about the important connection that vulnerability and emotions have to being alive. She says, "you cannot selectively numb emotion. You can't say, here's the bad stuff. Here's vulnerability, here's grief, here's shame, here's fear, here's disappointment. I don't want to feel these. I'm going to have a couple of beers and a banana nut muffin.  I don't want to feel these. You can't numb those hard feelings without numbing the other affects, our emotions. You cannot selectively numb. So when we numb those, we numb joy, we numb gratitude, we numb happiness. And then we are miserable, and we are looking for purpose and meaning, and then we feel vulnerable, so then we have a couple of beers and a banana nut muffin. And it becomes this dangerous cycle."  I have shared this talk so many times and referenced it and warned against the danger of being numb and here I have fully engaged in a numbing defense. The power of which was so strong it is hard for me to unravel. I haven't turned to banana muffins or beer but I have turned to full on stoicism and it's choking me out. 

The verse that has been calling to me from my neglected bible is this one, "The thief comes only to steal, kill and destroy. I have have come that you might have life and have it to the full." John 10:10

So 2014 finds me in a kind of come and get me kind of place. I have had all the numbness I can stand. I am tired of holding all the pieces together. I've seen behind the curtain of control and it is a lie. I want to be alive. I want to feel the fullness of life even if it excruciatingly painful but I especially want to feel the joy. I want to reject the promise of comfort that being numb lies about bringing. Come and get me Lord. Bring life from death as you always do. Water the dry places and break up the hardened ground. I want to live. 

The Feeling of Learning

May I tell you about one of my favorite feelings in the world? It's learning. I know that it makes me sound like a total nerd for putting this out there. It's ok, I own that persona... no need to call me out on it. But seriously, I love the feeling that comes with learning something new. We get little mists of this feeling when we learn new trivia or read a short article on twitter. A little surge of excitement...retweet, text a friend..."hey random stranger, did you know??"....

But what I am talking about is the feeling you get when you have been submerged in a concept or process emerge on the other side of a learning journey with something new...perhaps even as someone new.

I am sure I'm not alone in that not every concept automatically 'clicks.' Before the clicking....the struggle that leads to the lightbulb...that is the learning journey. A lot of people give up before they get to the aha moment. This can be in school, in relationships, even spiritually. Totally honest, I have wanted to give up before that moment a lot when it comes to mastering a concept. But that lightbulb moment, it keeps me going. It is the little reward at the end of the road. It is the taste of personal satisfaction.

I enter into this experience a lot and the sequence is always the same. (Perhaps you can identify)
1. Great enthusiasm for the new thing I am learning
2. Waning confidence that I can do or learn said thing
3. Great frustration in pursuit of just which way is up
4. Feeling of floating in a sea of confusion
5. An inching sense that there might be order coming
6. Bam! A moment of aha.
7. The triumphant feeling of learning!!

In my mind, the learning feeling plays out like the end of a great movie. I have overcome...there is music (Rocky) and sunshine and wind blowing my hair and cardigan (obviously) as I walk down the sidewalk. And I am smiling.

That my friends is why I learn. Learning is living.