A New Friend

Since I had my daughter at 16, I have wanted to help other teen moms. I wanted to talk to teens trying to have babies. And I wanted to educate them, as well as other teens, about what being a teen mom was really like. Yes, I had a sweet, innocent baby who loved me unconditionally. Yes, I got to snuggle with a sweet, little love bug. And I got to to experience that first smile, the first gurgles, the first baby kisses, the first steps, and the first words. But it was not easy.

I did get to experience all those wonderful things, but I also got to deal with smelly diapers, the constant spitting up ( and my daughter did this MUCH more than the average child does, because of her birth defect), the sleepless nights, the incessant crying when nothing appeared to be wrong, the isolation from friends (or losing them altogether), the pressure of trying to finish high school, the pressure of trying to succeed in college, trying to fit work into the mix of child rearing and school, and struggling with whether or not I was making the best decisions for my baby.

Fortunately, I had a very supportive family. In fact, I came home from school the day after my grandparents were told I was expecting, to find that my grandpa had purchased a bassinet and some newborn diapers for his first great grandchild. My parents juggled work schedules to provide 3 days a week of child care for my daughter, and my grandmother cared for her the other two days each week so I could finish my junior year of high school. During my senior year, my grandmother watched her 3 days a week and she went to day care the other two days. My siblings were also extremely helpful, babysitting and playing with her. They say it takes a village to raise a baby…and I was so fortunate to have my “village” rally around me!

Friends also helped out a lot. They often planned activities that would include me and my daughter. And they helped if I needed a babysitter in a pinch. My true friends never made me feel bad about my situation, they just encouraged me and loved me and my baby girl..and my baby boy, when he came.  The youth group at my church, which I wanted to quit when I got pregnant (yep, I was pretty embarrassed), threw a surprise baby shower for me. All of the other members of the group had gotten gifts for me and my unborn child. Seriously, a bunch of teenage boys bought gifts for my baby. So did the girls, who I wasn’t really that close to. Instead of judging me, they embraced me and showed me love. Blankets, clothes, bath stuff, and even a rocking chair were given to me that afternoon. One of the youth leaders made a puzzle for my baby, which all five of my children have now played with, and I will cherish forever. So, St Joe’s youth group members…I want you ALL to know just how much you have touched my life. The kindness and love you all showed me on that day will be with me forever.

And that brings me back to where I began. I wanted to show that same love to other young moms. And to help prevent teens from becoming young mothers. It can be done, but it is no easy task to be a teenage mother. Once these young girls find themselves in a tough situation, I wanted to be an encouragement to them. To assure them that a teen pregnancy or teen motherhood does not define them. It will be a small piece of who they are. I wanted to encourage them not to give up, but to keep putting one foot in front of the other and life will get easier. I waned to encourage them to stay in school and look to the future, making the best choices they can for themselves and their children. But mostly, I just wanted them to feel loved and accepted, and to have someone to talk to who had been there and come out successfully on the other side.

When I began this blog a few months ago, I was looking to see if a forum existed for pregnant teens to get the support they need, and I stumbled upon the blog of a 17 year old girl who had recently found out she was pregnant. She was in the process of deciding what the next steps were going to be for her and her unborn child. I reached out to her and Ashley and I have been communicating since. I have been able to answer some questions she has had as well as just be an additional support person for her if she needs anything. That is certainly something  I would’ve liked to have had when I was going through my pregnancy at 16. Ashley keeps her blog updated regularly. You should check it out…she is an incredible young woman with a great head on her shoulders, making extremely tough decisions that will affect both her and her unborn daughter forever. Sort of like what I was doing at that age. I never did find that forum I was looking for, but instead found a bright young woman whom I am proud to call a friend.

It’s Been Awhile

Yeah, Yeah. I know. It’s been a few days since I’ve posted anything. And I’d like to say I had good reason. Which I do for a day or two, but not for 5 or 6 days. See, last Tuesday night my husband was working so I decided to take the kids to the gym with me. After I challenged myself with a great workout, the kids and I showered and then we were rushing home to get them bed for school the next morning. At least, that was what we were supposed to do. Instead, as I was helping my youngest into the car, I apparently wasn’t paying close enough attention to what I was doing and accidentally shut my finger in the car door. Well, it was actually a bit worse that just shutting on door on my finger. The two doors were both shut and my finger was right between them. And I immediately knew that was not a good thing. At all. Especially since it was 8:30 at night, I needed to get the kids to bed, and my husband was working. But mostly because when I opened the door, (yes, I was smart enough NOT to pull my finger out!) there was a lot of blood. A.Lot.Of.Blood.

I instructed my oldest to wait  in the car with the other kids so I could run inside and clean it off, hoping to see what the damage was and bandage it up without any of them really seeing all the blood. But of course, the little ones freaked out since Mommy was bleeding, and I had a parade behind me as I hustled back inside. One of the managers followed me into the family locker room, which was the closet sink I knew of, and he began applying pressure to the wound. Another employee helped shuffle the kids right outside the family changing area to the couches in the lobby, where they could watch t.v., instead of Mommy bleeding all over the place. It took Garland, the manager, and I almost 15 minutes to get the bleeding to stop, and when we saw the damage I had done, it was clear I needed to make a trip to the emergency room for some stitches. Yuck. And darn it! What an inconvenience. I had things to do. And none of the things on my list was sitting in the ER all night waiting for stitches. So, as he and I went into the office, squeezing my finger to keep the bleeding stopped, I asked my oldest to call her dad at work and let him know what had happened and to meet me at the hospital. Garland and I stuck a few Band-Aids on so I could at least get across the street to the ER. ( Yeah, at least I managed to injure myself less than a mile to the ER!)

My in-laws came to get the kids at the hospital and take them home for bed. And my husband came to sit with me while I waited, which was a good thing, since I couldn’t sign any papers for treatment or anything. So, I got signed in and waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, after 4 hours of waiting, ( I had already been to triage and x-ray) the nurse called my name. It was already 1 a.m. and I was exhausted and hungry! ( I didn’t want to eat before my workout, so I had a small snack, planning on dinner after I got home…oops!?) Once I got back into a treatment room, they told me that I hadn’t broken any bones or clipped the tendon that was now exposed. Yay! So all I needed was a few stitches. And when did I have my last tetanus shot? Ok, and a tetanus shot, since I have no idea when my last one was. Middle school, probably? The doc explained that she would be numbing my finger before putting the stitches in. I’m ok with that, since, I have had stitches before, and wasn’t quite all the way numb. That is certainly not a pleasant feeling, so she can numb we as much as she wants! How much does the numbing shot hurt, I asked, because I like to know what to expect. Its a needle, she said, and it will hurt a little. I can handle needles, no problem, its the pain I want to be prepared for. I have a fairly high pain threshold (I did have 4 of my 5 kids without pain meds, thankyouverymuch!) but I do like to know what to expect. She said, “It’s about 10 seconds of pain, but 6 hours of pain relief.” Ok, I’m good with pain relief at this time. My finger is throbbing. But then she sprayed a topical numbing agent on my finger before she gave she shot, which got me thinking, but only for a second. My thoughts were confirmed. It hurt a lot more than a little. And then she told me, “Yeah, I didn’t want to say it before I did it, since some people react differently, but I just gave you a nerve block for your finger.” Umm, thanks?! But 10 minutes later my finger was completely numb and she stitched me up, applied some antibiotic ointment, I was wrapped in gauze and sent home.

Its been a few days now, and my finger is healing nicely. It’s still numb and tingly at the tip, kinda like your mouth feels after you leave the dentist. But the cut itself looks really good. But I have felt so helpless in recent days. Of course, I can’t get it wet, so I can’t do dishes or go swimming.  I won’t complain about the dishes, but I would’ve loved to take the kids to the beach or the pool this holiday weekend. And it hurt so much the first few days, I didn’t want to go to the gym and workout, for fear of making it bleed again, or feeling a throbbing from the blood pumping through. Every time I try to do something, from opening a gallon of milk to getting dressed, someone here (who I know just loves me and wants to take care of me!) scolds me for trying to do to much and steps in to do it. Which I am grateful for, because a lot of it hurts and I really don’t want to pull it back open by doing something I shouldn’t. But it makes me feel helpless because, honestly, I can’t do everything I want to do this week. And I hate relying on others to take care of everything. So I ended up in a funk. And I didn’t want to do anything. And I sadly took it out on my husband unnecessarily. But I’m breaking out of it, and getting back into the game. Stitches can come out as early as Wednesday and I will back up to full speed.

So, my lesson learned this week, is to slow down, stop rushing, and ALWAYS make sure the car doors close without my fingers in it! Oh yeah, and to appreciate all the things my loving family does to help me out! I am so blessed to have them!

Forgiveness

My husband and I had an important discussion this weekend that really got me thinking. We were discussing the importance of  loving and forgiving others. And, not unlike anyone else, I had a lot of people in my past that I needed to forgive. I sometimes have a hard time letting things go, and tend to hold grudges. Even when I think I have let them go. It is not uncommon for me to realize that I have just pushed something under the rug and tried to move forward rather than dealing with the issue. Recognizing this is the first step to changing it, though, and I have been working on not pushing things off, but really dealing with any hurt, pain or anger I am feeling. Because holding onto it will only cause bitterness.

After much introspection, I sat down to write this post…and after my first paragraph, I ended up writing a letter to one of the pastors at my church. It can’t be said any better than in my email, so I am posting it here also, to share all I am learning on the journey to Becoming Kelly.

Hi Kevin-

I was out of town the week you spoke on forgiveness, with the story of Abigail, so I wasn’t sitting in the auditorium that morning, but I listened to the mp3 from the Hope website tonight and I felt compelled to write. I am sitting in my living room, crying right now, because I feel like you were speaking directly to me. I feel like you were sitting right here on my couch, telling me just what I needed to hear tonight.
My husband and I were discussing this exact topic just yesterday afternoon. I thought I had forgiven everyone in my past that I had needed to forgive. But after our conversation, I couldn’t stop thinking about what he and I had talked about. See, when I met my husband a little over 10 years ago, I was a 20yr old single mom…to not one, but two children. From two different fathers. I was 16 when Arianne was born. She was born with a birth defect and required some extra care as a baby, including several surgeries to correct her mouth. Her father and I split up when she was 3 months old, and she has hardly seen him since. A month after turning 19, I had my son, Alex. Pretty much another bad situation with the father. I haven’t seen him since a month before Alex was born, and haven’t spoken to him since Alex was a few months old. I fortunately had the support of my family. And I met my husband when the kids were 1 and 3. We were married 7 months later. We’ve had some struggles along the way, but will very happily be celebrating 10 yrs of marriage this fall.
Yesterday, while he and I were talking about forgiveness of others, especially forgiveness of our enemies, the fathers of my oldest two came into the conversation. And not only them, but the girls they had cheated on me with. And I very quickly assured my husband that I had indeed forgiven all of them, but had no desire to reach out to them in love. Was that what Jesus would want me to do?, my husband asked. I said probably not, but I had forgiven them, and that was good enough for me. He kept pushing me though, making me think, making me reach deep inside. Had I really forgiven them for the hurt I had felt, for the betrayal? For the rest of the day yesterday, and all of today, it has been on my mind. I could feel God pressing it on my heart that I really needed to search myself on this issue. And so I searched. And I began a conversation with Domingo tonight prior to his small group meeting about what I had discovered, but he had to leave before we could finish. It was still on my heart, so I began to write about it on my blog, which lead me to search the Hope site for the Digging Deeper notes from a previous week when Mike was speaking on forgiveness. My eyes immediately saw the title of the podcast for your sermon “When The Past Hurts Your Present”, and the description was exactly what I was thinking, feeling and writing about. I had been holding in all this hurt and anger and bitterness, thinking I had forgiven all these people all these years ago! I clicked to listen to the mp3 and sat at my computer furiously taking notes while sobbing my eyes out.
You said in the message that real forgiveness deals with the offense and the feelings. And I had only been forgiving the offense..not dealing with the feelings. In every situation I was still hurting from, I had felt the feelings you mentioned: rejected, fearful, and insignificant. I knew I had to do something. So I prayed. And I cried. And I prayed some more.  And the weird thing is, the tears aren’t tears of hurt or anger or sadness or bitterness. They are more like tears of relief. Like tears of joy. I have been struggling lately with letting my past go and not letting it define me anymore. Not only did I forgive all those people and hurts I had stuffed away under the rug, but I forgave myself tonight. For not obeying God. For not loving myself. For failing over and over in huge, colossal ways. For not being perfect. For not following what I believe in, but going with the crowd. For not believing in myself. For letting myself down. For letting others down, especially my family.
So, I guess, in all my ramblings, I just wanted to say thank you! Thank you, Kevin, for this message. Even though I wasn’t in the church that Sunday morning, God had a plan for me to hear your message. He knew I wasn’t ready just a few short weeks ago. But He has been preparing me for this evening. And now He has spoken to me very clearly through your words.

Thanks again-
Kelly

School Days

Alright, I know this may seem like it has nothing to do with what my blog is really about, but it does play a role. School starts tomorrow for my kids. And for the first time, all five of my children will be in school this year. That’s right. My baby is now a 5 1/2 (going on 15!) year old kindergartner. I will be home alone this year, while all my precious peanuts are off at school, learning all kinds of new things and having a great time with friends. So, officially, I have a few more days with her, since they do a staggered start entry for kindergartners in our school district. She actually only attends one day this week, but next Monday begins all day, every day school just like all the other big kids. Now, I know I have been looking forward to this day for a long time, but I am actually starting to have some mixed feelings about it.

For 14 years I have pretty much been home with my babies aside from some occasional work  here and there. Motherhood has defined me since I was sixteen years old. And really soon, I will have all of my days to fill with…..whatever I want to do. Not what my kids want or need. Not whatever doctor appointment I have to run whichever child too. No more days filled with trips to the park, daddy-daughter dates for lunch (where mommy tags along!), story time at the bookstore or library, trips to the pool to play with friends,  afternoons snuggled on the couch watching movies or cartoons or even just talking. It all hit me this afternoon when my daughter looked up at me with big tears in her eyes and said, “I’m gonna miss you when I go to school, Mommy. I really want to go, but I think I just want to stay home with you again this year.”  It was all I could do to hold back my tears when she asked if I would miss her too. Yes! Yes, I will  miss her! Just like I miss my other 4 sweeties. Each and every day.

But on the other hand, I am so excited to have a chance to breathe each day. I will have a new found freedom when she joins the ranks at school. I can take a shower without leaving the door open, just in case she “needs” me. I can go to the gym when I want and even  take my time getting ready after I workout, because I won’t have to rush to pick up a child from the child center. I can swim laps after running on the treadmill or elliptical. I might even lay out at the pool…just because I can! I can get  a haircut, meet friends for lunch and even just sit and blog, without having to worry about entertaining my kiddo or finding a sitter for her. For the first time in nearly 14 years, I have an entire day to do what Kelly wants to do. A day to myself. Days upon days to myself. To take a nap if I want, to watch a movie I want to watch, to grocery shop without a little one asking for treats or crying that they need to go potty. Heck, I can have a lunch date with my husband and actually talk about grown up stuff! I will be able to volunteer at the school and in the community. I’ve dreamed of going back to school for my nursing degree. This would be a great time to do that. It would also be a great time to find a part time job to feel like a person again, not just a mom.

I have loved every moment of my children being home with me. Some moments more than others, of course, but my kids are my world. I love each one of them with all I have. And as sad as I am that this chapter in my life is coming to a close, I am ready for the new chapter that is beginning. This is going to be a great opportunity for me to really focus on Kelly, to really find what I am capable of. To redefine myself. To become Kelly.

Small Victories

Today my family celebrated my son’s seventh birthday. As is the tradition in our household, he got to choose his favorite birthday dinner, as well as the type of cake and the flavor of ice cream we had. After changing his mind about 6 times, including twice today, the birthday boy wanted his daddy to grill his famous (at least in our household!!) hamburgers. Mmm-they were delicious! Probably not the healthiest dinner, even though we used low fat beef. The dessert for the celebration is what I dread about every birthday around here. I have a serious sweet tooth, and where there are treats in the house I have a hard time staying away. Which is why I try not to bring them in except for special occasions.My sweet boy had picked a yellow cake mix with cream cheese frosting (Oh no! One of my favorite combos!) and he picked Mint Chocolate Chip and Moosetracks ice cream. (Shoot! These ones are my absolute favorites!)

I have to admit, I was so proud of myself for sticking to one burger at dinner (I’m telling you, these suckers are good!) and filling up on watermelon instead of the Doritos. And then, when it came time for dessert, I took a small slice of cake and 2 small scoops of Mint Chip. I am trying to live out the mantra “everything in moderation.” How freeing to be satisfied with a small portion! I considered overindulging, but knew I would feel sick as well as guilty later if I did. I also considered skipping dessert altogether, but knew I would feel deprived and crave it later tonight. So I opted to have a small portion celebrate my son’s birthday without regret.

As I am writing this, I am realizing that this is the first birthday celebration in nearly 10 years that I haven’t felt stuffed or guilty from the amount of cake and ice cream I had consumed. Yay! What a victory. Small changes. Daily changes. Life changes.

Becoming Mom

Fall 1996

Although my pregnancy at 16 wasn’t planned, once I got over the initial shock I was really excited. Yes, I was aware of the many obstacles I would have to overcome as a teenage mother, but I knew in my heart that I would be a good mother to my child. Especially after my family rallied behind me.   Finally the day came and I delivered my daughter.  I pushed and pushed for two hours and when she finally came, I was startled by the reaction of the doctor nurses my parents and the baby’s father.  He began to pass out, which sort of made me laugh!  But, I stopped when I saw the faces of everyone else.  They wisked the baby away and began a thorough exam with a flurry.  I could sense that something wasn’t right.   They hadn’t even told me whether the baby was a boy or a girl!  So, I started to panic.  What was happening?  What could be wrong?  I could hear my baby crying from the other side of the room.  But they hadn’t even shown the baby to me yet.  My mom and dad were talking to me and saying everything was ok and it would all be fine.  What would be fine?!  What’s wrong?  Is my baby ok?  One of the nurses came over and gently explained that my daughter (it’s a girl!) was born with a birth defect called a cleft lip and palate.  She would need surgery…I couldn’t help but interrupt her – Is she ok?  Is it correctable?  That was all I needed to know.  It was a correctable defect.  As the hospital staff explained later in detail,  she would need a series of surgeries lasting into her teen years to correct the deformity.  After determining that the cleft was her only defect, my nurse Annie finally placed my beautiful daughter into my arms! What a precious gift I had been given. She was absolutely perfect, even with her lip and palate incomplete. It was a definite adjustment, becoming a mother. Certainly having a special needs child didn’t make it any easier. She choked a lot on her bottles the first few days, and she spit up at least half of everything she ate for a good 4 months. There were lots of visits with specialists and her first surgery was scheduled when she was only 3 months old. I was scared out of my mind the entire time, but she had a great doctor whom I had complete trust in. I waited so anxiously in the waiting area, trying to stay calm, but pacing a lot of the 2 1/2 hours the surgery took to repair her lip. I knew it was going to change her appearance, but I was not prepared for what I saw when the nurse took me back into the recovery room. My smiley bundle of energy was laying in the bed, her face all swollen, especially around her mouth where the doctor had repaired the defect in her lip. Every few seconds a tiny whimper would escape.  One of the nurses turned and picked her up to place her into my arms. When I looked up at her, I realized I knew her! What a relief to have someone I knew back there…but it wasn’t enough. Another nurse guided me to the rocking chair while I was quietly crying, holding my daughter so carefully. Susie, the nurse who was a family friend, asked if there was someone else in the waiting area I would like her to get for me, and then she went out and brought my mom in for me. I feel a little foolish about that now…I was a mom, crying for my mom. I guess it makes a little bit of sense though, I was just a kid who had a kid. My daughter has since had 5 more surgeries for her birth defect, and will need at least 1 or 2 more in the next few years. She is the greatest patient, always remaining optomisitc and never complaining about the inconvenience or about any pain. She does everything the doctors tell her to, so her recovery is as quick as possible. She is not embarrassed or ashamed of her condition, she embraces it. It makes her special, she says. Not that she wasn’t already special enough!