now you know.

If I had to categorize my personality, I’d probably put myself in the “adult/crude humor” category. Ya know why? Because I talk about bodily fluids, sex and honesty in a healthy marriage and struggles of past/present faults and failures that are usually labeled as shameful.

If you’re new to my feed or haven’t had the opportunity to know me in real life, let me take a minute to fill you in on who I am and what my space is about.

I’m a believer in Christ. Saved by His grace and grace alone, entrusted with His mission to love all and love well.

I’m a far-from-perfect wife with an open-door policy on real. I’m the obnoxious, persistent, loud and competitive class clown that not everyone cares for. I’m confident, unafraid of confrontation, often say more than I should and a strong believer in being able to laugh at yourself. Always.

I’m a sucker for one-on-one time, a cry baby and incredibly nurturing with a passion to help others – sometimes to a fault. I’m strong of will and soft of heart (sound like a familiar little redhead to anyone?). I’m type A organizationally but type B relationally.

I’m a 2w3 and not afraid of change or taboo topics. I believe in quality over quantity, intentional over convenience and that parenting is molding a better adult in you so that your child learns to live AND LEAD by example instead of abiding by rules out of fear.

If you didn’t know that about me, now you know.

I grew up in a big family with big personalities and even bigger dreams and vocal opinions. I was raised primarily in a pentecostal church environment and from there a rollercoaster of religions, each one more different than the one before, all heavily dependent on salvation through works. WHICH IS NOT A THING, BTW. (Eph. 2:8-9)

It wasn’t till I was 18 that I fully understood the grace of God and His will for my life but I’m learning still.

I’d like to be very clear that I have excellent parents. My dad is passionate about his beliefs and his efforts to perfect his place on earth. My mom is passionate about submission and obedience with an abundance of wisdom, joy and grace. Both are passionate in their efforts to be the face and heart of Christ to those they encounter to the best of their abilities. Both are human. Both are teaching me still though our paths may differ.

If you didn’t know that about me, now you know.

I’m an advocate for living a life pleasing to the Lord. I’m an advocate for being present in the company of those you entertain. I’m an advocate for obedience but a believer in the grace that holds you when you fail. I’m an advocate for all marriages being as open and honest as the book of Song of Solomon and that sex is only shameful if you allow it to be. I’m an advocate in admitting your weaknesses because that shows strength and I’m an advocate for living a life that mirrors love by action and not words alone.

I have an advocate, His name is Jesus and it’s His standards I strive for, His will that I seek and His name I seek to please, not yours, not mine.

If you didn’t know that about me, now you know.

I’m passionate about motherhood and relentless in helping create a mindset that honesty is key to survival in understanding the ride of life it is. I’m passionate about pushing others to seek a healthy lifestyle that encourages a healthy mind, body and soul. I’m passionate about forgiveness and trust. I’m passionate about respect, loyalty and learning there’s a right way to tame your heart. I’m passionate about redemption and embracing correction when needed.

If you didn’t know that about me, now you know.

Social media is crazy cool but perception of ones life solely through pictures can be destructive IF you allow it. I did not seek this level of attention. I did not plan to gain the following I have acquired. I did not set out to be watched carefully or obtain “the audience of many”. I simply enjoyed having a space for my thoughts, my failures, my successes and my heart. 

My wish is to be hope and laughter and grace and love to others always. To leave a legacy of honor and respect, to build a table long and wide, strong and capable of welcoming many to sit and eat and learn. To be salt and light. 

So, if you didn’t know this about me, now you know.

Welcome, friend.

 

 

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Processed with VSCO with a6 preset

Maverick.

It was a hot hot day in July as I laid with your sister in my arms, also hot due to a fever. The moments that came soon after are a horrific blur and yet still burn bright in my mind.
Shortly after checking her temperature, you’re big sister Darcey had a febrile seizure and stopped breathing right in front of my eyes.
After what seemed like ages, paramedics were finally on scene and rushed the both of us to the emergency room.

The days to follow were a series of doctors visits, late nights and never ending hospital bills. Stress fell on our house pretty thick after that and my body wasn’t able to process it well at all.
The week after the ER visit, I began I to feel something I hadn’t felt in a little while – pregnancy.
I took a test in the thick of the stress hoping for an answer I could stomach.
“Positive.”
Very faint but very real.
I lost my breath and became so dizzy I lost my balance. I needed to sit down.
I couldn’t bring myself to tell your dad just yet, so I waited for the right time to bring up the literally breath-taking news that grew within me.

A few days later, we were all adjusting to the idea of another life being added to ours and though unsure of what that would look like, we hoped for health and strength in the meantime. It wasn’t but a week or so later that a rush came over me and we lost what we had never planned. Never planned, always welcomed, always wanted.

August was another month of chaos and sickness in our house but much less stressful than July. As I sorted bill after bill during the afternoons as your sisters napped, I quietly thanked the Lord for knowing what I thought was best for our family and welcoming a life into heaven before earth. Thankful because I felt incapable and unprepared to care for such a life.
Son, for the first time as a mother, I almost felt relieved. Forgive me.

A few days shy of a month from the previous unexplained episode, I began to fill my womb call out once again.
“Positive.”
Not faint, not shy, not silent but bold.
Maverick, my son, that was the beginning of you.

With a peace unexplained I told your daddy immediately although with hesitation as we were just in this same place 3 weeks prior.
How could this have happened so fast and why did I still feel so unfit, unprepared and unworthy?
Nevertheless, you grew.

Months seemed like days – I blinked and saw 12 weeks already! Too eager to wait, we decided to find out your gender early. I still remember reading the results to your dad over the phone, weeping as I screamed, “BOY! It’s says BOY!”
Tears rolling down my face, still shook to my core that I was unworthy of you, unworthy of a son, unworthy of another wonderful life.
It wasn’t long after that we named you. Your dad had waited 3 long years to give you his name – Maverick Price. We knew right then that we had always known you.

Your growth brought sickness and weakness to my body but it also brought strength and joy! Never aware my heart could swell as it did when I felt your strong kicks and slow rolls against the walls of my belly.

“He’s so low!”
The words out of everyone’s mouth just days before you arrived. You seemed to be my biggest yet and although I was eager to have you out of me, the day you prepared yourself to be brought earth-side, I was scared to death.
How will we manage another life? How will we care for one more right now? Your sisters, still small, seemed to need me more than ever and I felt I gave them so little of me already. I feared your arrival son. Forgive me.

You alerted me strongly at 4:30pm on Saturday April 28th, 2018. Yes. The one Saturday a month your dad had to be at work! As I labored at home with your Granny close by my side, the flashbacks of birth hit me hard. It was though you spoke right to me, “ready or not, here I come!”
And come you did at 8:00pm that same day. The pushes leading up to that moment were the hardest I’d ever encountered – my head pressed hard against your dads, with all my might I push and pulled you up from the water.

Eyes soaked with tears, sweat and relief, I stared at what I feared most of all. You were blue.
Your cord wasn’t pulsing and although my midwife rubbed hard on your little body, you lay limp and breathless on my chest. The motion around me was that of a well-oiled machine and the presence of the God we serve surrounded me as I breathed in the only comfort He could offer.
You see son, I had done my job, now it was time for Him to do His.
Minutes seemed like days but as they breathed for you once again, we heard you gasp on your own and then breath your first breath.
They called your birth at 8:03pm.

With a cry full of fight you let out a roar! Chills filled the air and we all let out a breath of relief as we welcomed you, our son earth-side.
I have never felt joy like I did in that moment. I have never felt peace like I did right then! So thankful, so proud, so humbled… but still unworthy.

The days that have followed that pivotal moment have been the best days of my life. My heart has never felt so full and so honored – so grateful of what was created and designed for my life.

Son, you have been redemption in the purest form from the start. You have been a light to our darkness from the moment we heard your heartbeat; the calm to our storm and the joy in our song.
Oh son, it has always been you.

You who reminded me that though I feel unworthy, I am still chosen and though I seem ill-prepared, I am still enough.
I will never be anything less than grateful for your life and I will never be anything less than bewildered as to why the Lord chose me for you!

Oh Maverick, I’ve waited my whole life to love you and I’ll live the rest of it doing my very best to live up to exactly what you deserve.

All my love,
Mom 🧡

 

dear little firecracker

My dearest little firecracker,
From the moment your spark was ignited, your light was seen all over.
At first, because your colors were so bright, your beauty was almost too much for one to behold.
Some days I would have to shield my eyes from your majestic glow and cover my ears from the sound of your mighty crack.
In my weakness, I feared your strength and confidence and I hide my heart from your wonder.
Because of my fear and hidden heart, I could only love you from a distance, ashamed and afraid of what might happen if I got too close.

Forgive my ignorance and insecurities.
Forgive my fear and my weakness.
Forgive my lack of patience with myself and my lack of ability to see your majesty.

Never lose your spark, little firecracker.
Never lose your mighty crack.
Never lose your confidence to be free to be who you are and to be seen from all over.
Never lose your strength because of what others are unable to see.
Never lose your stage because of your audience.

Stay strong, stay bright, stay loud.
Stay visible to all, stay steady and true to your colors, to your flame, to your brilliance.

Teach others as you have taught me that boldness is not to be feared but respected. That might should not be feared but embraced.
That illumination is the fear of darkness – so keep shining. Shine bright, shine true and leave the sky amazed at all you can do.

Oh little flame, ignite the world as you’ve ignited my heart.

All my love,
A Mother too Afraid to See
xxoo

 

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worst. blogger. ever.

Hi all!

I’d like to start this entry off by saying, I’m an awful blogger! Literally the absolute worst. I’m so bad I don’t even know how the internet allows me to keep this domain name! Just kidding – it’s money, duh. I’m not sure I can even be considered a “blogger” – that’s how bad I am at this! I’m the blogger other bloggers blog about being a bad blogger. Bl, bl, bl, bl, bl, blah. See? The worst. I’m the blogger that gives other bloggers a bad name. Yeah, you know the one! I’m the blogger that doesn’t even read many other blogs. I know – shameful!!!!

On a good day I was posting once a month but this time around I think it’s been almost a year since my last entry. Pa-the-tic. 

Maybe it’s because coming back to this page reminds me of my last post and all the fear and anxiety that came with it’s story? Maybe it’s because I don’t give myself enough time to sit down and just enjoy my words and the memories they bring when thrown together? After all, the few moments I do have to myself I usually spending pooping or cleaning up poop because hashtag MOMLIFE.

Maybe it’s because my plate is constantly full and adding to it for minimal reasons seems unhealthy? Maybe it’s because I don’t want to take the time to gather words together to help paint a picture of whatever kind of chaos I’ve recently encountered just for the sake of “sharing my space”? Maybe it’s because I just don’t want to make time for myself, period!

But I should!

I should because I love to write and I forget to do things for myself sometimes. I should try and make more time for me.  To take the time to collect the words that create the memories I love the most, learn from the most and most want to share with others.  To be more intentional about how I allow myself to influence others and remember that this is my space, a place for my thoughts and dreams and moments lived and put into words.

No, this is not a blog –  this is a safe place for me and hopefully for you. A place I hope you’ll help me keep it full of life and love in the many, many years to come.

Here’s to better self-care.

-Mama Bithell xxoo

 

control.

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We’ve been taking a little break from social media (and more importantly, life) to rest and recuperate.

On Saturday, July 8th, our oldest daughter River spiked a 104.9 fever and we took her to her first ever ER visit.
The room was so intimidating but thankfully, with no other symptoms than high fever, which we began to control with medication, we were sent home with assurance that it was a viral infection that simply needed to run its course.

The next day it was “back to normal”. No fever, no clouds in the sky and a happy trip to the shaved ice place down the street we went! The girls laughed and played.
Our day was normal.
Everything was normal.
We were normal.

The next morning I awoke early to the cry of our youngest, Darcey. I ran quicker than usual because her cry was far from usual.
Hot to the touch, I knew our “normal” was no longer. The viral infection had spread but thankfully, I knew just what to do and stayed calm.

If you have more than one, you know how incredibly common it is to spread germs from one child to another. In fact, if only one of my children fell sick without contaminating the other, I’d be in shock!
Her temp was over 101 but I stayed calm knowing this was eons better than the nightmare we had experienced just days before with River.
Little did I know in just a few short hours my world would be shaken to its core and my faith left scrambling for explanation and comfort.

The morning went by quickly. Darcey and I snuggled on the couch while River danced around the living room to “Trolls”.
I even posted on Instagram several times “updating” friends and family of our state.
Monitoring Darcey closely but I could finally breath easy, confident in my complete control over the situation.

Nap time rolled around, River went down with ease and without complaint. We had all played hard! Darcey wanted nothing to do with her crib so I ravished at the moment to snuggle her close in my bed. We aren’t co-sleepers so any opportunity to cuddle is seized immediately!
I took about a million photos of her snuggling me close and after about 20 minutes on my chest, I laid her next to me and dozed off.

Struggle.

I awoke to the sound of a different breathing pattern. A pattern of struggle and pain.
I sat up and blinked repeatedly to focus on the scene in front of me.
Eyes closed, paci still intact, Darcey was struggling to breath. Body red like fire, eyes fluttering under her lids.
I immediately began taking her onesie off to cool her and examine her diaper for signs of dehydration. Drenched. THANK YOU, LORD! She had plenty of fluids, I’m still in control.
I ran to get the thermometer and nearly lost my balance when I read its tiny screen.
“105.5”.
Was this a dream? No time to stall. Focus. Breath. Access carefully. Gain control.

I dialed my mom and placed my phone on speaker beside me. While waiting, I grabbed the rectal thermometer to double check her temp.

The next few minutes are hard to put into words.
My fingers unable to type even now.

On July 10, 2017 at 3:42PM I made a phone call to my mother.
“Hello?”
Her voice calm and collected, mine unable to respond the same. “MOM! Come now! Darcey is seizing – She’s having a seizure right now!”
Eyes streaming with tears, locked onto my baby, hands held close trying to comfort her tiny, helpless, shaking, convulsing body.

I called 911, voice steady and firm as I relaid the horrific scene in front of me.
“She’s choking on her saliva! I don’t know how to help her- how do I help her?” I yelled at the dispatcher and at the same time, my hands turned her on her side without my knowledge.

“You have to let her seize. There’s nothing you can do to stop it.”
Control lost.
Panic engaged.
“Maam, are you there? I need you to remain calm. Breath with me.”
“I AM BREATHING. I sound loud but I can assure you I am calm!”

Her lips now blue, body still convulsing she stopped breathing. Body now still, eyes and mouth open, the daughter I had given life to now lay on my bed lifeless. My heart in my throat I screamed, “HELP ME! My baby isn’t breathing! She’s not breathing! Please hurry!”

The moments soon to follow are sharp and painful in memory but also blurry.
From the paramedic walking me through mouth to mouth, to her coughing and struggling to breath, to eight men rushing to her side while my dad pulled me to his.
Trauma.

How did this escalade so quickly? How did this escape my control within a blink? Where in the world did my faith go?
As I made my way out to the ambulance, my eye catching River’s little face, hands reaching for me in utter panic and distress, fully aware of the chaos surrounding her.
Trauma.

I reached the ambulance and found my seat next to the monitor which never stop ringing due to Darcey’s horrific 209 heart rate.
An IV was started and though she screamed from pain, her eyes screamed a different kind of pain. She couldn’t see.
Dear God, my daughter is in darkness and can’t see me.
She gripped my finger tightly and I began to speak into her ear, reassuring her I was close. Stable to drive within minutes, we were in route for the ER.
With every bump and sharp turn, her voice would shrieked higher and higher, fingers gripping mine as she was still unable to see the cause of her fear.
Trauma.

Once inside the ER, my nightmare continued as the line of nurses and staff glared at me while I walked alongside this huge bed containing this tiny, naked, screaming life.
Shame flooded my whole body until I was consumed by guilt.
Had I done this? Had I caused this spiraling horror?
Thankfully our room was close by and help was just behind that corner.

I retold the last 25 minutes over and over to each new face that came rushing in to lend a hand.
A thousand questions.
No answers.
Darcey now in my arms, I glanced down while listening to the doctor relay the course of action. Blood everywhere. My shirt splattered, her body and face covered. Her IV had come loose.
As they quickly wiped her face, her eyes met mine. Screaming still, she looked at me for a second and then away and then back again, eyes wandering, not focused. She still didn’t know I was there.
“Why can’t she see me?!”
Trauma.

The next few hours were busy with testing, pricking, poking and then later, a catheter enforced.
As her body began to relax in mine, she finally rested. My husband arrived just when her eyes began to close and we held each other tight as I began to weep into his arms; shoulders shaking, speech scratchy and pathetic.

The report was just like River’s – viral. Her fever subsided and she gathered the strength to stand up and jump while holding onto my hands. Her sight had returned and she could see me clearly, smiling back with reassurance to my soul.
Lord, you are faithful.
The doctor came by to check on her progress and began to discharge us; We were going home.

I’ve never hugged River so tight in her whole life! She chatted us into the night with all her childhood wonder.
Darcey nodded off soon after we arrived home and she slept beside me in her pack-n-play, monitoring her closer than ever.
I began to feel my eyes grow heavier and heavier as I closed them just a moment for rest.
Trauma.

Anxiety high, body shaking, lips trembling I sat up unable to rid myself of the horrific scene now plaguing my mind.
Like a song on repeat I revisited my nightmare over and over.
Her little body on my bed, vomit lying next to her blue lips and the ever echoing of my voice, “HELP ME! My baby isn’t breathing! She’s not breathing! Please hurry!”
Trauma.

Unable to control my fear, I told myself I would be ok to go without sleep. Besides, someone who goes through that kind of experience was strong enough without something so simple as sleep.

The next day seemed to last forever as I continued to monitor her closely, fever spiking randomly but never to the danger of the day before.
She continued to grow stronger and return to her normal, happy, bouncy, chatty self!

We received numerous texts, visits and phone calls all encouraging us with prayer and the kindest words.
One friend in particular, who has experienced the greatest of losses, called and prayed over me without even knowing the struggle and darkness I had been facing.
“You need to go back to the dark places and find Jesus. Retrace your steps and find Him. Go back to where she had the seizure and find Him, Taylor.”
Her words shook me to my core.

 

 

“Though oceans roar, You are the Lord of all,
the one who calms the wind and waves and makes my heart be still.
Though the earth gives way, the mountains move into the sea, the nations rage, I know my God is in control.
Lord of Hosts, You’re with us, with us in the fire, with us as a shelter, with us in the storm.
You will lead us through the fiercest battle, Oh where else would we go but with the Lord of Hosts.”

It took days to walk through the darkness but once I did, I found Him.

I found Him in my bedroom when I woke to the quietest sound of struggle which led me to act quick.
I found Him in the steadiness of my voice when I reached the 911 dispatcher to effectively relay my issues and my address though I was in utter panic.
I found Him when my body lunged forward to hold hers steady while she seized in front of my eyes as to not further harm herself.
I found Him when my hands acted quick to turn her on her side to let the vomit flow.
I found Him when my dad happened to be seconds away from my house when my mother reached him with the news and he came quick to comfort me and be with River.
I found Him when I thought to kiss her forehead like only I have done since birth which calmed her even though she couldn’t see me.
I found Him, in the midst of the storm, there next to me the whole time. Never leaving, never failing to bring comfort.
Rest.
Peace.

 

 

To the one who has been in the ER:
I’m sorry I’m just now seeing you.
To the one who has witnessed trauma:
I’m sorry I’m just now seeing you.
To the one who has experienced loss:
I’m sorry I’m just now seeing you.
To the one who has lost hope due to the darkness:
I’m so, so sorry I’m just now seeing you.
To any and all who fall under the categories listed above:
I’m sorry I’m just now seeing you but He has seen you all along.
He never left.
Go back to your trauma, your darkness, your lost hope and find Him.
Go back, find Him and have peace.

All my love,
Mama Bithell

 

 

 

their father, my husband.

 

 

There’s not a lot my husband doesn’t do for us.
From working late nights, to waking up early mornings because our girls don’t sleep past 6 most days.
He’s one step ahead of me when it comes to patience and kindness and I think I can count on one hand (really just three fingers) the number of times he’s complained about anything.

He deserves more than I could ever give him.
More?
More what?
More everything.

More grace.
More love.
More sacrifice.
More joy.
More gentleness.
More patience.
More strength.
More sex. Yes. MORE SEX.
More loyalty.
More everything.

He leads by example in all aspects of life. He loves in big ways and regret for him is rare because he is patient in the waiting.

Does he leave his coffee mug in the sink? Usually.
Does he forget to do things I ask?
Most definitely.
Does he usually make us late for a party or family outing because he’s pooping?
Count on it.
But I’ve learned to let the little slide since he’s so great at the “bigger picture” stuff.

For instance, I can’t stand when he leaves his cups in the sink but that’s because I like tidy, organized, clean.
He doesn’t leave them there on purpose, although when we first got married, I thought he was out to kill me. I nearly busted a tit when I jumped in the shower and was greeted with an old coffee cup (ring around he bottom and all) sitting where my soap should be.

Like, what?
WHY?

I chose to fight him day after day over those little things until it drove us crazy. With time (and wine), I realized these weren’t flaws! They were simply a fuse to my chaotic compulsive obsession for cleanliness!
Don’t get me wrong, I still keep a tidy home!
(Mom, you can breath now…)
I just choose to see the “mess” in a different light now.
The coffee cup is in the sink because he was running late to leave the house for work. He was too busy getting River one more cup of juice and handing Darcey one more banana before he had to slip out and leave them till the next morning.
He forgot to pick up that one item I reminded him about because I texted him a lost and yelled out an “add-on” as he was walking out the door, busy chatting away with River, struggling to keep her hand in his as she tugged him with excitement.
He’s pooping last minute before we leave because he actually let me shower and fix my hair, was busy dressing the girls and had to rush through his routine.

I’ve come to realize that flaws are something we choose to see and are usually just illusions of our own enteral obsessions.
So, yes. He has “flaws” because he’s actively displaying his affection and pride for this little family of his.

I’m so grateful I got to team up with Jord Watches to give him a special little something this Father’s Day! The look in his eye when he opened that box made me shed a tear. Ok, made me shed a flood gate of tears!!

No only is this gift “timeless” (see what I did here?) but it’s one of THE MOST amazingly crafted pieces I’ve ever seen.
He was so thankful. So blown away. So honored!

Thank you, Jord Watches!

Luxury Wooden Watch
//www.woodwatches.com/widget-article/mamabithell

http://www.jordwatches.com/series/dover/zebrawood-and-dark-sandalwood/#mamabithell

http://www.jordwatches.com/series/dover/zebrawood-and-dark-sandalwood/#mamabithell

roses.

“Stop and smell the roses”

1. (idiomatic) To relax; to take time out of one’s busy schedule to enjoy or appreciate the beauty of life.

Life; it’s short. We have no control over its pace anymore than we do it’s span.

The lack of time in my day is more apparent now than ever before. My ability to multitask is astounding but my ability to be on time is pathetic at best!
Chasing around one child was challenging but having two is completely consuming to the point where I don’t even know what time or day it is.

I blink and they’re both awake. I blink twice and it’s noon and I still don’t know where my breakfast is. I blink again and they’re down for nap but the buzzer on the dryer reminds me no nap is in sight for me. I blink a fourth time and my hands are busy bathing before bed. Bed? How is it 7:45 already? I’m still in my pajamas!

Time.

The greatest thief still reluctant for capture. Still escaping our grasp.
The lines on my forehead tell me I’ve been touched by time, though I don’t even remember running into him.
The curls hanging over my daughter’s ears- what was once bald is now full of bounce, just like her ever growing personality.

Time.

The other night I was sitting in the bathroom with my husband as he tiredly unfolded his day, voice scratchy from the constant string of calls.
You would think after 10 months we would be used to this schedule but I could tell in that moment the late shift was starting to wear on him.
As he went through his day, call by call, I looked at him, like really looked at him for the first time in honestly I don’t even know how long.
I didn’t even recognize him.

His beard was a deeper red than I’ve ever seen, his eyes still blue as the sky with the kindest sparkle but a new set of  feet sat alongside each eye. His nose and cheeks spotted with finger prints of the sun, his forehead aged with lines of wisdom and evidence of hard work, his face somehow more handsome than the day we met.
Who was this man? Where had he come from and where was the boy I fell in love with nearly 9 years ago?
As he continued to speak I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down my cheeks. I grabbed my face and let my shoulders shake with defeat as I gave up the fight against the thief of life here on earth.

Time.

I knew it had been robbing me for years but I never realized how significant my loss truly was until now.

As I sat sobbing my husband didn’t assure me of anything. He didn’t lift away the heaviness, he didn’t struggle to tackle my fears, he just let me feel all that that moment had to offer. He lent me his shoulder for comfort, he held me tight and allowed me to feel all the emotions of that moment.

I feel in love with him more that night than I have in almost 2 years.

Time.

It stops for no one and holds no one in higher regard than himself.

Slow down friends.
Don’t wish away the moments. Enjoy each season for what it is, don’t force feelings, just be. Embrace the life you live and remember all that it holds, even if you despise the situation. Don’t live for the memories, let the memories live through your moments. Hold the ones you love because I promise they won’t stay the way they are right now for long.
And above all, take time to stop and smell the roses. You won’t regret

rain.

We’ve all heard the saying, “When it rains, it pours.” and the last two weeks could not have proven more true at our house!

I started a new job about 2 weeks ago working for my dad and my hands are fuller than ever. I’m slowly but surly realizing how horrible I am at juggling and personal hygiene but between student loans and my car being so bad it would have to get better to die, I’m thankful for the little extra! We just found out this past week Price’s shift change will stay the same until June, which means I’ll continue to fly solo in the evenings a little longer than expected. I’m also not sure if Darcey has teeth coming through, River has teeth coming through or I have teeth coming through. All I know is our butts are raw, we’re a little cranky most days and it seems like a good time to blame Eve.

Last night Price called and said his car was acting up. I nearly lost my footing as I was crawling into bed. I could hear the frustration in his ton as he breathed heavy on the other end and then again as he said, “When it rains it pours, right?”. Right.

We said our goodbyes and I hurried him home without forgetting to caution his safety because duh, CAR ON THE FRITZ!

I sat in my bed just staring at the wall as the tears began to rise. The lump in my throat felt like I had swallowed that ball River lost and we couldn’t find earlier. Exhaustion. Pure, utter exhaustion. Should I even bother telling him about my left breast closing up shop in the milk department? Should I add to the stress and tell him the hospital called again about an overdue bill? Should I vent about the day I had and the test of patience I failed over and over and over again?

I thought this season of struggle was coming to a close, so why does it feel like it’s just beginning? Are we doing something wrong? Why does it keep raining and pouring?! WHY?!

Matthew 5:45 “…He causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good and sends rain on the just and the unjust.”

There, at the edge of my bed and my sanity, I heard Him clearly. “Who said rain was a bad thing?”

My heart nearly sank with the echo of His voice in my head. Shoulders dropping heavy, eyes now flooded with tears, He comforted me, He lifted me, He met me. How ignorant I must be to think I don’t need the rain. How foolish I must be to think He had forgotten to give more sunshine over more floods.

He sees my fields are dry, so He sends the rain.

He sees my well is running low, so He sends the rain.

He sees my hands are burned from trying to put out all the fires, so He sends the rain.

He sees my thirst is still unquenched, so He sends the rain.

 

 

So if you’re like me and due to all the rain, you’re not sure if you need a new car or a new boat, be encouraged. He sees you, friend and He sends the rain.

 

the fight.

The baby that lays at my feet this afternoon is a very different baby than the one I gave birth to 9 weeks ago.
From about 5 days old, she began to show signs of colic and I slowly started to lose my mind.

If I’m completely honest, this pregnancies postpartum has been one battle after another. Depression has never been a word in my vocabulary nor has there ever been dark thoughts that seem to consume my every move. That being said, the past 2 months have been an actual fight for me both mentally and physically.

My defense mechanism is to deflect the heavy weighted thoughts and throw on a smile, tell myself it’ll be ok and that it won’t be like this forever. It actually worked for a little while! I would use humor to cover up the scars I wore behind closed doors, even though the thought of being alone scared me for fear of what path my mind might lead me down.

I recently (2 weeks ago) cut out dairy all together and in a matter of days saw drastic results with Darcey!
However, CHEESE IS MY LIFE!! Like I live for cheddar, so quitting cold turkey was harder than I had imagined and effected me in more ways than one. I experienced fatigue, became edgy and short tempered and my supply started to decrease rapidly.

Why, Lord- Why me?

Breastfeeding with my first was a nightmare for several months and I fought hard and long to keep up a supply as long as I could. My second time around started out with an amazing supply, a freezer FULL of liquid gold but a baby who can’t seem to tolerate any of it and a diet change that is slowly taking over my willpower to push through.

That being said, this past week I hit my lowest breaking point.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so depressed, so frustrated, so mentally exhausted ever in my whole life. I kept coming up short day after day and I couldn’t seem to get it together.
The tears were never ending and even though I had a more peaceful/happy baby, I didn’t have the mind to enjoy her.

Then doubt showed up.

Was I even fit to be a mother anymore? Did I even deserve my children? Did I even deserve to live? What was wrong with me? Where on earth did my joy go? Why am I having to fight so hard to keep my head above water? Would drowning be so bad right now?

Discouraged and defeated, I started to give up. I didn’t want to talk to anyone other than my husband about my “failures” (which was difficult at times) and I certainly didn’t want anyone telling me, “this is normal” because it didn’t feel “normal” at all!

On Wednesday evening I felt the weight take over me and the Lord used one of my closest friends to shine light on the darkness around me. She immediately began encouraging me, crying with me, loving me and urging me to “keep up the good fight”.

“The good fight.”
I was tired of fighting especially when I couldn’t figure out why I had to fight so hard in the first place. I’M A GOOD PERSON! I shouldn’t have to fight like this after all I’ve done, after all I’ve been through.

Saturday came and left and I was dreading Sunday morning. I didn’t want to hear a sermon on who to vote for or how to be a good Christian- I just wanted to sit in my shame and pity and be left alone.

“The Fight”
The sermon title glared at me from center stage. Already over it, I let myself get distracted with Darcey as I rocked her to sleep until something was said that sparked my interest.
“Why do bad things happen to good people?”

My ears perked up. Hmm. GOOD QUESTION JON. I would really love to know.

His next words shook my core.
“What do you expect? This life is a fight.”
The next 15 minutes or so he began to shine a light right on all my scars, right on my darkness, right on my shame.
“You can’t fake a real fight.”

Eyes flooded, shirt soaked I sat in the balcony.
I had forgotten how to fight. I had become so used to covering up the scars of my fight but neglecting to train and prepare my body for the next round.
How did I expect to come out victorious if I didn’t make time to prepare myself?

Enough is enough!

No more neglecting- It’s time to knuckle up. My knees don’t hit the ground enough in prayer to start complaining! It’s time to train for round two.

I am not my scars. I am not a slave to my fear. I am not ashamed of my weakness and my struggles. I am not afraid of the obstacles I KNOW I will face because I plan to come prepared from now on.
“If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God whom we serve is able to save us. He will rescue us from your power…”
(‭‭Daniel‬ ‭3:17‬)

Three men faced certain death because of their faith and obedience to fighting the good fight. When faced with their sentence, they replied with authority because they came prepared.

“But even if He doesn’t…” (Daniel 3:18)

Even if He doesn’t take away Darcey’s stomach issues right away;
Even if He doesn’t heal my mind overnight;
Even if I never see a sliver lining to my struggles and my battles;
Even is He doesn’t answer how I desire;
I will not bow.
I will not give up.
I will not surrender because I choose to fight.
I choose to fight and I choose to win.

Sometimes we don’t see these “real” moments/struggles in others lives because of the image he/she may be sending us in innocence and the thought of being “the only one” can be overwhelming.
Social media is easy to scroll through and begin making you feel like everyone else’s lives are all but perfect. Meanwhile you sit under the weight of your own dirty laundry – depression, stress, marriage struggles, loneliness, parenting exhaustion…

Be encouraged today. Your life doesn’t have to be lonely and it doesn’t have to be shameful. It doesn’t have to be dark and scary even though your thoughts and your mind may tell you otherwise.
Don’t allow your mind to keep you in the dark and don’t allow the enemy to keep you from winning this fight!

Full of hope,
Mama Bithell

http://cfachurch.churchonline.org/#

learning to let go.

As my due date vastly approaches (THIS SUNDAY, OH MERCY), my belly continues to drop, my bladder continues to leak everywhere and my sleep duration becomes less and less, I’m slowly realizing the reality of going “over due”. My Safari history is completely full of searches like, “Labor cocktails”, “Can my husband strip my membranes during sex?”, “How to safely induce labor at home” and, “What foods can I eat to effectively eject my baby?”. I can honestly say I’ve never been more ready to push out a bowling ball through the opening the size of a quarter. Is pregnancy where they coined the phrase, “Camel through the eye of a needle”?

Then my mind wonders…. Am I crazy? I should be thankful I’m still pregnant, right? My belly’s gonna go from “hard bod” to saggy Mc. Tittsworth in less than 24 hours! I’m still going to wet myself because my bladder is never going to recover from the head I know is going to be the size of Donald Trumps ego. AND THE CONTRACTIONS!!! Have I completely forgotten what it’s like to give birth? What am I asking for and exactly what kind of sleep do I think I’m going to get once this baby is outside of the womb? *sigh* I’m a riot!

And just like that a wave hit me.

Holy emotions; I can’t do this. I can’t be pregnant any longer and I can’t give birth. In or out, my body can’t do this. I can’t breastfeed again, she’s not going to latch just like River didn’t and my supply is never going to be enough for her. I can’t go through postpartum again, I’m not strong enough. I can’t replace my firstborn and I can’t love another like I love her. I can’t be a good mother to more than one, I just can’t.

“Welcome to the mind game.”

“I don’t need to remind you, you were made to do this. I don’t need to remind you, you were born to be a mother. I don’t need to remind you that your support will be greater this time around. I don’t even need to remind you, you are more than capable to handle what’s headed your way… but I will because your mind isn’t ready. You need to breath and you need let go.”

I sat on my bed, stunned on the other end of the phone. I had just called my midwife to update her on my pressure and constant contractions- I hadn’t expected this. I thanked her and hung up the phone. I then proceeded to cry like a new babe in need of comfort. Shoulders shaking, shirt soaked with tears, I let it go. I just let them fall and wash away the weight of motherhood for a minute and then a minute longer. I let it all go.

Learning to let go. It’s so much easier said than done when your very being screams organization and preparation! No loose ends undone, no time to change your mind, no problem left unsolved, no detail left out. When your every fiber is wired this way, how does one simply “let go”? How does one adjust to something so unnatural?

You just do it. Why? Because your sanity requires it. Motherhood doesn’t as your permission to take over; it just does. Motherhood doesn’t allow you to adjust slowly. It doesn’t give you the opportunity to change your mind when things go south. It requires all of you, all the time, forever.

When Thought about like this, letting go was simple.

You just do it. You release control to what you can’t change and can’t prepare for. You release all preconceived notions and fears. You submit to the will of what you can’t see and you trust the same Creator that allowed you to enter into this crazy world of motherhood, is big enough to carry you through without hesitation. You allow the One who formed you in your mother’s womb to remind you daily of how to care for the one He so diligently formed in yours. You allow Him to uncover joy in all the little things as you wait patiently. You surrender to what you can’t because He can. You let go and let Him.

Be gentle with yourselves and let go.

All my love,

Mama Bithell