Waiting to Exhale...

I think I can finally share this story now...

Maybe.

On April 28 (a Monday), Mark had a CT scan done. He has a family history of pituitary gland tumors so we wanted to keep an eye on his pituitary gland. Kind of felt like a sitting duck in a way.  I honestly didn't think a whole lot about it. I mean, I prayed and thought about him during that time but this was "routine" in a sense.

That afternoon, he walked into the room and said, "I have a growth behind my right eye."  He had apparently just found out and was in a bit of shock himself.

At that moment, the world seemed to stop.

I was prepared to hear "pituitary gland".  Not this.

I kind of laugh about this now. We always have big plans on how to tell each other things (or at least I do) and then it never works out that way.  Like when I found out I was pregnant. There are so many neat ways to share that. Instead, after having some disappointment over negative tests, all those ideas went out the window. I just called him and blurted out, "It is positive!  We are having a baby!"  Same with the day our adoptions were finalized. Nothing like we had planned on.  Not that there is a good way to share news like that but it was just so typical for us. Blurted out...

At that point, I am pretty sure I stopped breathing.

An MRI was set.  For 8 days later. 8 days.  That felt like an eternity!  We had little information at that time which was not good for me. I immediately started googling "growth on optic nerve". There are a LOT of possibilities for that but not very many of them were desirable.

By the way, a FAQ was and is "Didn't he have any symptoms?" Well, yes, looking back, he did/does. But blurred vision, an occasional headache, etc, those things are just part of being our age. So we didn't put much thought into them.

Two days later (the 30th), Mark came to eat lunch with me at school.  About that time, I got a text from my mom to call her. My grandmother had died. Unexpectedly.

Honestly, the next two weeks were like a blur. Having a completed thought was almost impossible.

We cried a lot. I worried a lot. We prayed a lot.  I found myself searching for comfort in the Scriptures.  We were also blessed by so many sweet prayers and notes of encouragement during that time. We tried to be normal but it was not a normal time.

I looked at life through a different lens.

And still do.

That is more for a post for another time.

The following Tuesday, May 6, we buried my grandmother.

I won't lie. I found myself wondering if I would be doing that again soon with my own husband.

The next day, May 7, Mark went in for the MRI.

I did not go with him.

I was in a workshop.

And there was nothing I could do. I couldn't be in the room with him.  I knew he wouldn't get results right then.

All I could do was pray.

A lot.

And try to ignore that feeling in the pit of my stomach.  The one that had become permanent at that point.

Unbeknownst to me, Mark announced the MRI on Facebook that morning. I had no idea. We had only told limited people at that time.

The outpouring of love and prayers was overwhelming. A good overwhelming but overwhelming at the same time.

During this time, tears came easily.  I could be laughing one minute, crying the next. And I often was.

One moment that brought me to tears? When our youngest child (who had overheard a conversation incorrectly) asked if Daddy was going to die and if so, who would practice baseball with him.

Another time I was cooking in the kitchen, singing praise songs at the top of my lungs. Suddenly I was on the floor crying, the dog right by my side.  It was like being on a roller coaster ride. A ride I wanted to get off of.

We had gotten CT results so quickly, I just figured it would be the same with MRI results.

I had my phone with me all of the time. Checked messages constantly. My phone battery ran down to empty more those two weeks than normal in a whole year for me.

The one and only time we somewhat relaxed was the weekend (Mother's Day weekend) because we knew there wouldn't be a phone call over the weekend.  But the thoughts were still there. The questions. The worries.

We didn't try to speculate on what the "no answers" meant.  I didn't take it as good news or bad news. Just no news.

Which was hard.

Very hard.

One thing I learned is that I can completely trust in God. I do. I really do. And I knew no matter the outcome, God would be there.  But I also learned that I am very human. And that knot in the pit of my stomach was very real and NOT a reflection of my faith or state of relationship with Him. Just part of being a human, a human who loves her husband very much.

Mark did call that Friday to ask for results.

Nobody called him back.

Mother's Day weekend was very surreal.

We tried to be normal...hiking, lunch out.

But life was not normal. And likely never will be again.

The next week I found myself more and more jittery.  More and more consumed with "What is going on???"

I tried really hard to NOT push Mark to get answers.

It was and still is HIS condition.  Not mine. I have to let him handle things his way.

On Wednesday he called again to ask for results. One week later.  Suddenly that 8 days we had waited for the MRI didn't seem like an eternity. This one week did.

As some point, the doctor's office called and he missed the call.

Gotta love phone tag.  With a doctor's office. 

He called back.

And finally he got to talk to a person.

And the "results"?

"You need to see an ophthalmologist."

That is all.

Nothing more.

Some people immediately said, "Well, they didn't say oncologist so that is encouraging."

But at that time, nothing was really encouraging.

We still had no answers.

On Thursday, May 15, Mark took matters into his own hands and called the ophthalmologist's office himself instead of waiting to be called. 

And somehow they had an opening.

That day.

I scrambled to find a substitute, a VERY rare thing for me.

And a few hours later found myself sitting in the eye doctor's waiting room with him, my husband, my love.

Finally his name was called.

At that point, I was pretty sure I was going to throw up.

My anxiety level was at an all time high.

We walked into the office. The nurse started looking through Mark's records.

She asked, "Have you seen the copy of this report?"

I was about in tears by this time, telling her we had heard or seen NOTHING.

She handed it to us.

Well, it made no sense. Medical jargon is not my specialty.

The eye doctor came in.

We have known him for a long time (on a professional level); our kids go to him regularly.

He did a few tests and looked over the report.

I was a basketcase by this point.

Then he said it, "This is a cavernous hemangioma. It is NOT something serious."

In fact, he said it a few times.

I think my face gave it all away.

And then it happened.

I exhaled.  I didn't realize it but I had been...

waiting to exhale.

And I finally did.

And cried.

A lot.

And still am.

Breathe in, breathe out.

More soon,
Reba

Out of the Darkness...

I know a lot of my posts are "light" posts.

I like those light posts.  They are easy to write.  Fun to read.  Happy, happy, happy.

But the truth is, life isn't always "light".

To have light, you have to have darkness.

When I think of darkness, I think of last summer...

Last summer was a tough one. If you know me at all, I LOVE summer.  I do. It isn't that I don't love my job. I do.  But I love that laid back schedule, the time to be at home, the time to rejuvenate my spirit, the time to be with my children.

Except last summer was not like that at all. 

I won't go into all of the details, though I will be sharing a little bit over the next few weeks, but we had a tough time.  I will just say that one of our children was going through a very difficult time.  And if you are a mother at all, you know difficult time for a kiddo means difficult time for you too.

And it was.

I felt alone.  I felt deserted.  I felt abandoned by not only friends but God.  I felt sad. I felt hopeless.  And I felt like I was in darkness.  All day long.

Please know I had to force myself to type those words.

Because there is shame in them.

I am a mom and a teacher who looks like I should have it all together.  And a lot of people think I do.

But last summer was proof that I have nothing together.

Life is messy.

I want to clarify that my darkness was not clinical depression (though I may have been a step or two away from it).  It was more a situational depression.  I was not on the brink of suicide, though I may or may not have considered running away a time or two.  Okay, if I am honest, thoughts of running away (at least temporarily) are always right there on the outskirts of my brain...

This was a darkness from feeling overwhelmed with life.  A paralysis of not knowing what to do or where to turn.  A constant self-doubting of my own worth and capabilities.  And an isolation from the rest of the world.  

Part of the isolation was self-inflicted.

Because of what we were dealing with here, we couldn't get out of the house a lot.  Things were unpredictable.  We needed a very consistent routine.  For several reasons, it just wasn't possible. 

While I am thankful for things like Facebook, a very needed social outlet for a busy mom, it doesn't replace human interaction.

When you are in a dark place, it is easy to feel alone. Completely alone.

And for me as a teacher, without that constant interaction with co-workers and students, summer can feel a little isolated anyway.  Even in the best of circumstances.

But these weren't the best of circumstances.  These were harder times.

So I felt very alone.

The other part of the isolation was probably not intentional but very prevalent. 

Friends I have always counted on didn't really seek me out either.  Though I was careful what I said on FB or through e-mails, enough was said to send out warning signs that life was a little difficult for me.  And while close family and an occasional friend did reach out (and I am forever grateful for those people), a lot didn't. I won't lie. It let me down. 

One of my lowest moments was logging into FB and seeing pictures of a group of friends and their kids having a great time at an event. An event I wasn't invited to.  Even worse, nobody seemed to notice or care I wasn't there. (I realize that it was not likely intentional but when you are in darkness, it is hard to not feel wounded by life's slights)

At that one moment, the darkness was almost suffocating.

I say all of this not for pity.

In fact, I would rather not say it at all.

It doesn't bring back happy memories.  It isn't who I want to portray myself to be to the world.

But for whatever reason, I feel pressed to share. This post has been churning in my brain all morning to the point I felt like I had to type it out whether I wanted to or not.

I share it for a few reasons.

One reason: If you are in darkness, know that you are NOT alone.  It can come upon anybody at any point in their lives.  Doesn't matter if you are rich or poor, Christian or not, an optimist or a pessimist.  I cringe when I hear people say, "How do you do it all?"  I don't.  And at times in my life, I am paralyzed by that.  I believe in God and have Jesus living in my heart. He is always with me through His Spirit.  But sadly, when everything feels so dark, it is hard to remember.  He is there.  And He has people all around you who are there too, many who have been where you are.

Another reason:  Know that the darkness WILL lift.  There will be light again.  And when you are in the light again, you will treasure those moments that much more.  The difference between last summer and this summer (with the exception of possibly today which hasn't been that much fun :) is the difference between night and day...

And my last reason:  Even if you aren't sitting in darkness feeling very alone, there is a GOOD chance someone you know and love is.  You may not realize it but start watching.  Does someone you love smile but painfully so?  Are you reading e-mails or FB messages that seem joking but underneath there is a cry for help?  Or has someone withdrawn from your circle of friends whether intentionally or not?  Reach out to them.  Ask, "Is everything okay?" And be prepared to listen if it isn't.  Even if you get a "Yeah...", ask again.  Sincerely.  Pray for that person.  Pray for opportunities to be a good friend to them.  Even just a short text or e-mail saying, "Hey, it looks like things are tough right now, I am thinking about you" can go a long way.

I am a little nervous to actually post this.  I realize some may look at me differently.  Or conjure up theories and hypotheses of what was going on in our lives.  Or smugly read this and think, "Well, I am so glad this is not my problem..."

But hopefully, if even one person reads it and sees themselves and feels even a little less alone, it will be worth it.

More later,
Reba

What a difference...

a year makes.

Last summer was NOT my favorite summer.

My husband had just been "unhired".

We were living in limbo.

We were dealing with some kid struggles.

Major struggles.

As in dreading to wake up every day struggles.

I felt like a prisoner in my own house.

Fast forward to this year...

Hubby owns his own company.

Okay, in some ways, it is like limbo.

We don't have that set paycheck.

But he is doing what he loves to do.

And our bills are paid.

It isn't perfect. 

Lately we have had a lot of "expenses".  It is easy to panic a bit. Or a lot.

But still, God is faithful.

(Just for the record, He was faithful last summer too...just feeling it more this year I suppose)

And the kid struggles?

Well, with four kids, there will always be struggles.

But so far our summer is off to a great start.

The kids are getting along.  Even playing together.

Meltdowns (both child and mom) have been pretty nonexistent.

And I have even run a few errands, leaving the oldest in charge.  When I come home, NO complaints.

I am actually looking forward to this summer.

So many other things have changed in the past year...

Our eating habits.

My weight.

Our house (though it is still a work in progress).

Our children.  (I am going to do a special post about them this week)

Our health (both good and bad :).

Who knew what a difference one year could make?

Reba

This is the Day, This is the Day...

That the Lord Has Made...

That the Lord Has Made...

I will rejoice.

I will rejoice.

And be glad in it.

And be glad in it.

This is the day that the Lord hath made.

I will rejoice and be glad i it.

This is the day.

This is the day.

That the Lord has made...

If you attended any kind of youth service at church in the 80's, you know exactly how to sing this song in your head. (It is an echo song :)

So this is what happened.

I woke up this morning.  It was snowing.  Big beautiful flakes.  I am not a snow person at all.  But I will admit, it looked really pretty falling. And though I am also not big on snow days, I looked around the house at all of the projects I needed to work on, and I was okay with it.  Except we didn't have a snow day. We had snow but we also had dry streets. Or at least just wet streets.  So the day was already starting off a little "off"...

On a positive note, we were at school on our "extra day of summer vacation".  That is one more day this summer I wouldn't have had if we had stayed home.  And I was thankful the streets weren't a mess so I wouldn't have to worry about the safety of anyone out on the road.

Picture day.  It is picture day.  Ugh. It is picture day.  What do I wear? What did I wear last year?  What is clean?  What will look good in pictures? What will make me look okay in pictures?


Yet I am thankful.  Thankful I have a closet full of clothes waiting for me.  

One of my children started bucking me from the moment he/she was awake.  Not happy about my clothing or hair choices for the pictures.  I let that child choose 364 days of the year...do you think letting me decide one day is too much to ask?


Again, I am grateful. I am grateful for children who have opinions and aren't afraid to share them, though we are still working on the "delivery".

I drive to school. We are behind schedule.  I don't know why.  Arguing children.  Mom is extra busy.  It is still snowing.  I am ALWAYS on time.  ALWAYS.  (For school)  And technically I was on time today. But I cut it too close for comfort.


Yet I am thankful again. I have a job I love with people I enjoy working with. Every day I get to watch children blossom before my eyes.  We all have rough days when we are a step behind.  Tomorrow will hopefully be better.

Lunch time. I drive home to let the pup out for a bit and to pop some dinner in the crockpot.  And hopefully eat but often I end up with about 10 minutes to eat after taking care of everything else around the house.  Sigh.

Though I felt rushed, I did take time to notice the trees on my drive home.  With the snow (that melted shortly afterwards), the trees were absolutely breath taking.

I was looking so forward to Zumba; even more, the boys had dentist appointments and haircuts with their dad so I didn't have to do my usual "running around" after school. I would get to stay the full amount of time.  I enjoy my time with my co-workers, and I get my exercise out of the way for the day.  Except I found out this afternoon that our fearless Zumba leader was ill.  No Zumba for us. :(

Which actually worked out because Child 2's normal ride for the afternoon could not pick her up.  So I ended up having to leave school pretty quickly after dismissal to pick her and a friend up.  And though it wasn't part of my plans, I was thankful to be the picker upper when so often others help me by picking up...

I get a phone call just as I am about home.  My dear hubby says, "Is this crockpot supposed to be off?"  Groan...

Since the chicken sat out for 4 hours, I couldn't justify cooking it.  But thankfully I had more chicken in the freezer.  And though I didn't have the nice bottled teriyaki I had used the first time, I found a great recipe through Google to make my own teriyaki sauce.  It was obviously disappointing to have lost all of that food, but we survived and ended up eating a pretty good meal.

My favorite yeast spilled out of the container in the freezer.  All over my newly cleaned kitchen floor.  Bummer!

Thankfully it wasn't a lot of yeast.  I whipped out the vacuum and cleaned up the floor.  And then I attacked the freezer. I spent quite a while throwing out food we are not going to eat (I won't tell you how old some of it was) and organizing what was left.  It should be MUCH easier to see what we have and don't have. When it is a tad bit warmer, I will tackle the ones in the garage.  A little work but worth it!

There were other odds and ends, like a student moving and sassy children at home.  Messes and near misses.  Things that made me groan.  Times I wondered why.  And a few times I felt like just throwing in the towel (for the day).

But I have to say, even in those not as fun times, I am grateful.  I know these things are all minor (especially compared to what so many of my friends are dealing with).  And I know that no matter what the day brings, this is the day that the Lord has made.  I will rejoice and be glad in it...

Reba