10 years ago I was newly married and had very little clue about what was ahead when I turned 30. I assumed the best was yet to be as I dreamed of being a wife and mother.  I didn’t mind turning my back on my childhood and 20s and looking forward. I was excited and I felt ready for a new life. Thank God I wasn’t permitted to peak around the curtain of what lain ahead. I think when we beg God for hints of the future it is his grace that lets us down gently when he doesn’t answer. I know that now. There are some things we just can’t know because it would hurt too much to carry. 

You can learn a lot in 10 years and I honestly hope the lessons I’ve learned stick around. Here are just a few:

-Babies become children very, very quickly. Every sappy post or sign you’ve read about “Lightening Fast” is 1000% true. They just grow up and you are powerless to slow it down.

-Diagnoses when it comes to your children will strip you raw. I’ve walked through life changing illnesses, behavioral challenges, and sensory issues. I’ve watched my children in therapies and selfishly wondered why my kids had these challenges when others didn’t. I still don’t have that answer but I must hold tightly that I was chosen to be their mom for a reason bigger than me.

-Marriage is super hard but it’s still a super fun sleepover with your best friend. I’d choose the hard all over again as long as Jeff was with me.

-Friendship changes big time in your 30s. Gone are acquaintances and lighthearted gatherings. Nobody has time for that. You want real and the real ones care about your issues, answer midnight calls and commiserate with you about adult acne. 

-Your body tanks, well your metabolism does anyway. If you aren’t working out and eating right 3-4x a week, it reveals itself quickly. So you fight the battle of losing your old body and wanting to do “better tomorrow” or just wanting to eat the dang pizza and cheese dip. Some days are positive and some days aren’t. This is a work in progress to love myself. 

-You will watch your family members and friends get divorced and it will hurt. You’ll want to make it right and wonder if you could have helped but really all you can do is hold their hand and try not to say anything stupid as they navigate their own hard. 

-Family is EVERYTHING. My mother and sister are my lifelines and I do not know what I would do without their phone numbers because I call…a lot. Sorry guys, but I love you so much. 

-Anxiety and depression are the most powerful beasts I’ve fought. I’m still fighting. I hate it so much but I’m not giving up. Celexa is a game changer though! 

-Counseling is really the only way to go. If you aren’t paying for a best friend that desires you to be the most authentic you and calls you out on your BS…well you’re doing it wrong. 

-Sometimes you join a multi-level marketing business and it doesn’t work out because you’re an introvert and you should have known that.

-Careers are hard. I am walking into my 40s feeling like I really don’t have one. Should I have one? Am I missing out? I think I like helping people and that’s been enough for me. The pressure of “What do you do?” is big though and it really shouldn’t be. Just be you.

-I feel like I’m tired all the time. The overwhelming pressure of wife’ing, mom’ing, cleaning, working, maintaining relationships is unbearable at times. It’s soul sucking. Self-care is vital and I forget this all the time.

-Your relationship with God gets pretty serious because your issues get pretty serious. Sometimes its talking all the time and sometimes it’s just quiet. I’m learning being quiet with God is more than ok because He knows you’re tired. He’s content to sit with me so I am too. It’s a deeper and richer relationship. Once you realize he’s really the only one that gets you…you fall in love all over again.

These are just a few things I’ve learned. You can’t really pack 10 years into a blog post, but these are some of my highlights and lowlights. I pray I’ve done my 30s well because gosh I loved you. You gave me my greatest blessings and hardest moments…so thank you. 

40s: you have big shoes to fill but let’s keep it light and fun. 

Peace,

-Kate

I’m not sure I could have have fully grasped what was ahead if God had allowed me to peak behind the curtain of parenting. I only know 5 years in that peaking would have hindered my grueling process of learning to trust God with a spectacular kid and some very specific needs.

In the beginning of my journey I had a baby that didn’t have full neck control or range of movement like other growing babies. This led to tests and physical therapy that eventually ended in graduation and better neck movement. But a year later we noticed growing agitation and feeding issues as well as more physical struggles in range of motion. So off we went back to therapy where we added occupational therapy for something called Sensory Processing Disorder. A disorder I had zero knowledge of…and thus began our journey of understanding an adorable little boy who experienced the world a little bit different than us.

Since our first foray into therapy things have changed a lot for my son and our family. We’ve had seasons of positive growth and celebration with honestly little struggle. But we’ve also had very low seasons where I wasn’t sure therapy could keep up with Knox’s changing brain and constant struggles. Tiny steps in the right direction didn’t amount to much when I felt like he was bolting backwards and regressing into old behaviors.

Selfishly I wanted to lay in the bed during these times because it all just felt like too much. Why did God ask me to parent a child that needed something I didn’t know I could give? Did I mention during these toddler years that Knox was also diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes as well? Are you serious God? You want a child that deals with sensory sensitivities to become a-ok with needles? Too Much Folks!

But in rare silent moments where I know God quieted my heart he would remind me that he did in fact have my son under his wing. That he understood meltdowns, therapies, insurance, needles, and the future. And that he also knew I couldn’t do it alone but that through HIM I would be equipped to be Knox’s mom and advocate. I truly believe trials let you experience God in special ways and while no one would ever choose struggle for their child I am glad that I’ve gotten to see a few miracles along the way.

It is not easy by any means. And to be honest, we are in a low season now but God’s grace always abounds. And my prayer is that it will abound more than the anxiety and fear. And that I’ll remember his control and love over one spectacular kid that I get to call mine.

I don’t like my new normal as a diabetic parent. I miss last year when I wasn’t counting goldfish and instead doling out snacks like it was nothing.  I miss not wondering if Knox exercised too hard and therefore would have a low blood sugar in a few hours. I hate the sounds of beeps in my house as the glucose monitors shout at us about lows and highs. I hate lying to Knox when I have to give him a shot about how it won’t hurt this time.  And I hate that I can’t truly explain to him yet what is wrong with his body. I can only say this shot will make you feel better and keep you from getting sick.  And his little eyes wonder what sick is because to him his nose isn’t running and the thermometer didn’t reveal red. So no, I do not like my normal. Not for one second.

I also don’t think I understand what the stress has truly done to me, well except my weight…that I can see just fine. And all the while I am hard on myself of what I am not achieving in my days; never stopping once to listen to the small voice inside.  The tiny gentle nudge of a voice that whispers, ” I see you.”  And isn’t that we what we all want? We want to be seen and heard. We want to throw aside our responsibilities for a tiny minute and yell, ” Not Today!”  Today, I stay in bed and rest. Today I don’t worry. Today will be different. But then it isn’t different and we wonder what the spirit means when he asks us to rest in him.

I can’t rest, I have to keep a child alive!  But there’s that voice again, “I’m bigger than this and I see you.” So what now? Now we steal a tiny moment and close our eyes. Is it in the pantry? Or maybe it’s at a red light for a fleeting moment. Our lids close and we barely whisper, “I can’t, you can.” That’s all. That simple.

My new normal isn’t stellar and perhaps your life is in my same boat as well.  I may never meet you to encourage you or hear your story. But if I could I would say, “yes this sucks but God is so much bigger and if something could be bigger than the weight of my story then I’m wrapping my strength in that.”

Love you, Kate

Bedtime routine exhausts me most nights. When it is over you’ll often find me laying across my bed wondering what just happened. I swear it takes an hour to trek my way across the terrain of baths, brushing teeth, begging a toddler to go pee, and pjs before they are actually in the bed. The final phase is stories, prayer, and exactly three songs of their choosing before lights are out. Let us also not forget the toddler sightings of at least twice to tell us one more thing before its truly over.  You feel me folks?

I know this is just a phase. And I know it is just a phase because in my small time as a parent I have already said goodbye to bottles, night time feedings, strict schedules and rocking babies to sleep. Phases have clear beginnings and lost endings in our memories. No one realizes the last time you rock a child to sleep, for example, is actually the last time. Its weeks or months later that you think to yourself, “oh that’s over and we’re on to the next thing.” And so you do just that…the next thing. Phase ends, new phase begins. Wash repeat.

The thing that is difficult though is that while you are in the middle of a phase you may often feel defeated. You’ll wonder if you can make it through without crying, yelling, or losing your temper.  You want to be better, the best even! Good gracious, it’s hard.

As a believer your heavenly Father knows all of these emotions. And I promise my next sentences will not include asking you to give him your day and watch it all magically change as if christianity is some miracle vitamin to life. Nope! You are going to fail, big time. It will not immediately get easier after you say amen. You will even forget to enjoy the phase at times. I think this is normal though because you are a flawed and beautiful human. And I also think God knows this, all of this.

Our Father, beautiful Jesus, promised us hard times as well as promised us that through him overcoming was possible. So I say we do just that and carry on. We ask God to help us overcome these phases and get through them. I pray I yell less and give my kids more grace.  After all they are just learning, as are we. Leaning in to Christ is the only way. Coffee helps too.

So my friends hug yourself, look up, and then look ahead. He is with you. He wouldn’t have promised it so many times in his letters if he didn’t mean it. Onward!

When my son was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes I began to pray that God would heal him immediately. For entirely selfish reasons I did not want this hard new lifestyle of needles and carb counting and blood glucose levels. I did not want it for Knox and I did not want it as a Mom. No thanks, something less hard please.

There was even a moment in the hospital that I prayed the hardest I’ve ever prayed for something. Knox was continuing to have low blood sugar levels and because we were giving him insulin I began to think that the lows were because he did not need insulin. Was he cured and we were just dosing for no reason? Please God let it be true. As they pricked his finger I cried out in my heart for the number to be low again so we could discuss a new diagnosis of “fluke diabetes.” But it wasn’t to be. The number was entirely to high to suggest anything but diabetes.

It’s been two months since that day and healing hasn’t come. Instead we count carbs and divide by blood ratios given by the doctor and then prime needles for shots. Knox no longer runs from us and tells us kindly, “that wasn’t bad today Mommy,” after a shot. It’s all kind of normal now and I wonder what that means. Should I keep praying for healing or thank God for acceptance and an incredible little boy with strength tenfold? The answer can be yes to both but it can also point towards something entirely different as well.

I met a family in the hospital who are dealing with a nasty brain tumor on the stem of their daughter’s cerebellum. They have no guarantees of success of treatment or that it won’t rear it’s ugly tumor head again in two years. They don’t have much of anything promised to them on this side of heaven except the promise of Christ with us. And when you put it like that I guess it doesn’t matter if Knox get healed or the tumor goes away. It just matters that God is with us. That’s all we really have and need.

This can sound horrible at first to swallow because a little girl is suffering and what if she relapses or gains disabilities from treatment. How could the promise of we are not alone measure up to senseless suffering. It doesn’t measure up of course because the promise covers the suffering instead. And this is the greatest hope of all. It is standing in the face of the storm and not crumbling because the storm never mattered in the end. God with us, the Hope of Glory, is what mattered.

We are blessed beyond measure because we are still here. We are still fighting and God is with us.

Last week my little boy lost his ability to make enough insulin to keep his body functioning properly. The ER doctors were quite nonchalant in their diabetes diagnosis ten minutes after arrival. An IV of insulin was given and a tiny wheelchair came to take us to our new inpatient room. My baby is only three years old.

Lots of things happen to me when crisis presents itself. Unfortunately none of them are good. In fact I am often teased for my ability to system down and stare off into the distance when something bad happens. Jeff usually has to snap his fingers and give me instructions in order to come to. But this time no instructions were given. Big life changes can happen on a dime as the old saying goes and there isn’t time for preparation. So what do we do? And as a believer in a good God what do you do when the bad thing happens that you always believed happened to other people happens to you?

For me, as I stated above, it wasn’t great. My heart broke and I couldn’t stop crying. Doctors, nurses and diabetes educators often gave me pity looks as I tried to absorb their information. It all just felt like too much and my arms were stiffly outstretched motioning NO! Knox already had trials to overcome with physical and occupational therapy and now this too?! And me as a mom already had mental health issues of anxiety and depression. I was a mess, losing weight, not eating, and a chest full of ants. What kind of combo did God think Knox and I could be for his kingdom? It all just sucked and I know “suck” is an immature word. But I felt immature and scared.

A close friend of mine who has walked the chronic sick child road, with a far worse diagnosis than ours, quickly reminded me that yes I could do it and that yes God had chosen me to be Knox’s mom. I have sat with that reminder since we were discharged and wondered what God was up to. At first glance it seems like a hard storyline that God is writing and I think as humans it’s ok to tell God this is hard and no thank you. He’s okay with that.

The next part is the biggest part we have to play. It’s the part where you choose to trust when it’s the darkest outside and inside. When you can’t see where the road curves and it would be easier to turn back or just sit down and hang your head. This is where I am currently camping out. Listening to encouraging music, being raw and honest with my people, praying and asking God to be louder than the anxiety and attempting to stand up when all I want to do is sit down.

I think we have to ask God for a new lens when we look at our mess. I think we HAVE to believe that there is another storyline at play and it’s bigger and not always something we’re allowed to see or read yet. And my God, it’s hard to live with this lens but choosing to believe must also coincide with choosing to trust. God has given me the following verse and I pray it wraps around your heart as it has mine.

Love, Kate

“Forget the former things;

   do not dwell on the past.

  See, I am doing a new thing!

   Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?

  I am making a way in the wilderness

   and streams in the wasteland. Isaiah 43:18-19

 

Sometimes knowing better does not always equal doing better.

I’m coming off of a tough week parenting and as I sit here typing I’m exhausted. And not just the physical kind; I’m talking true mental exhaustion where you end up daydreaming things that aren’t truly you. For me my thoughts have drifted towards wondering if I can really do this…motherhood. This thought kills me because being a mom is not something I’ve taken lightly. I fought my way through postpartum depression and once I reached the other side I assumed things would be different. And they were for awhile. But that was before. Before toddlerhood and diagnosis’ and two kids going through difficult phases at the same time.

This week wasn’t anything significant as far as my kids actions’.  It was the typical tantrum filled days of spills, attitudes, school, work and etc. But I think these days would be tough for any mom or dad that hadn’t checked their heart before their feet hit the floor on a Monday morning. Excuse my church phrase, “check your heart.” I can’t seem to think of a better instruction. I am referring to self-awareness. It is being self-aware enough to know that I hadn’t read my Bible in weeks or journaled or just simply took a few hours to be quiet and examine within. Everyone runs out of steam eventually. We can’t all run on coffee, good intentions or…ourselves.

And heres the thing: I know better. I know I can’t withstand this season of little ones without taking care of myself. But if I know this then why did I wait so long to come up for air? Probably because I want to be perfect. I want to get it right the first time and when I fail then I wonder if I’m cut out for it at all. I keep thinking today will be different, today I’ll keep my patience and Knox will obey the first time.  Today we’ll make pinterest crafts and laugh at how easy life is while we sip apple juice without lids.

But that “today” never came because life isn’t like that. God never promised a life of ease. He promised that it would be hard and that He could overcome it.  So the way I see it grace is the only way outta here. Grace for your kids and grace for yourselves. I’m not going to get it right everyday and I’m certainly not going to thrive if I don’t remember to stop and take a deep breath.  I truly believe that resting and taking care of yourself in whichever way that fills you up is necessary.  Today I drove around and listened to music and asked God to sit with me awhile. Insert praise hands emoji.

I know I’m supposed to be a Mom and I love those babies with a fierce love.  I don’t know how to love without the fiercest of love loving me first.

“Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.” 1 Cor. 13:7-8

I’ve always loved to read and write and it began with poetry.  I pretended I knew what every writer meant in each eloquent phrase and the secrets in-between.  To me poetry was the art of giving life to the highlights and lowlights of this world. You know the big ones…love, loss, grief, happiness and pain.

2017 brought some valleys and a remembrance of past pain. I wish I could write that I recalled every detail of my past and therefore leaned harder on God more than ever because I knew of his faithfulness. But I didn’t do that. My humanness tried to make sense of it and fix it. I leaned on my understanding and ended up getting lost in the mundane activities of waking up and taking care of children. I guess I stuffed it all down and only let it surface a few times here or there. This method is of course a breeding ground in your heart for fear and anxiety. I was in a sense fighting and flighting. I wanted to flee but I also wanted to fight for my baby.

Last January I began to notice Knox grimacing in excitement or anger. His little hands would clinch and he would get angry and not be able to calm down. He began to walk on his toes, eat three things only, and fear all playground equipment. He would crash into me, trip over everything, and hate being laid down for a change of clothes/diaper. My heart had a sense of alarm but I wasn’t sure if it was worry with warrant.

He began physical therapy for low muscle tone because of a separate issue and there the therapist suggested possible sensory processing issues. Sensory what? He didn’t care about collars, tags or seams in his socks so I wasn’t sure her suggestion had much merit. I was wrong. It turns out there are more than five senses and people can be deficit in one, two, three…or even all seven of them! Knox is deficit in four senses. This I know but explaining the deficits is still something I’m learning to define.

He added occupational therapy to his schedule and thus began our journey. Knox is trying to rise above a deficit he doesn’t know he has and I am trying to rise above my selfishness. The ugliness of my heart showed clearer than ever this past year. I was frustrated, tired, hurt and worried. I didn’t want Knox to suffer after a hard day. I didn’t want to drive to therapy. I didn’t want to deal with meltdowns. I didn’t want to deal with Knox on a hard day as well as take care of his newborn sister. I wanted perfection. I demanded it and when God fell silent to my pleas I began to look around at the environment of my heart.

I was a dictator to my heavenly Father and this cruel world. I wanted everything to be okay, like yesterday, and the assurance that Knox would grow out of it and that Blaire would be free from it as well. But the truth is I am not safe from this world, none of us are. It is a mean world and it does not ask before it gives. God meant it when he told us that in this life we would see trouble… but the verse does not end with trouble. And my baby boy is not defined by four deficits. And I not defined by the valleys because the verse ends with, “Take heart because I have overcome the world.” John 16:33

Taking heart is an everyday push and an everyday work in progress. I have to remember to take heart in the One who overcomes so that in Him I may have peace.

I hope one day I can write a poem as eloquently as some my favorite writers about overcoming and that people will see my secrets in-between. Its the least I could do to help another remember to look up and take heart.

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. Inthisworldyou willhavetrouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33

Labor day weekend in 2010 I visited a tiny country church in south Georgia with my mother and grandparents.  My grandparents were trying out a smaller church closer to their home instead of driving an hour to the bigger church they had attended for years in the closest city.  It was your typical white church in a farming community with a gravel road and red velvet pews.

I had come to visit because I canceled my beach plans in Charleston with girlfriends. It was just the beginning of my journey with anxiety and I had no clue what was happening inside my head or heart. Embarrassment was an understatement of my feelings and I didn’t want my friends to see what was really happening to me. This is clinically called isolation but to me it was called self-preservation.

At this point my prayer life had kicked it up a thousand notches as I pleaded with God to take away the mental unrest by asking for forgiveness for anything and everything I thought was my fault. I wasn’t sure that my self-condemnation wasn’t the Holy Spirit convicting me for something. Basically I was a mess and my understanding of the Bible and God was majorly twisted.  Anxiety is so fun.

The preacher shouted his message while simultaneously sweating and asking his parishioners to turn from their ways towards Christ. I sat there sweating too and nervously looking around at the people.  As he began to close the sermon he asked for people to come up front to the altar for prayer. This was not a new concept for I had grown up in a church where the elders laid hands on the sick or needy. I knew I needed prayer and stood with my mom to go forward. As I bowed my head my mind began to think this was it, my moment. Healing was mine soon and I could go back to being the old Kate, you know the one that didn’t have crazy thoughts, slept all night, and ate pizza. The preacher asked us at the altar to grab a kleenex and scrunch it up in our hands and then throw it down. He said this symbolized our giving up of our burdens/sins and that we were new creations now. A fresh start.

I threw my balled up sweaty kleenex down and opened my eyes feeling nothing. My mom smiled and we made our way back to our seats and eventually back home to my grandparents farm. The next morning we left to drive back to Atlanta and my chest hurt so bad from the anxiety that I laid my seat back and tried to apply pressure to my own chest.  I remember telling my mom that something was very wrong with me. My mom said it was over now and that we had prayed. I had given my anxiety over to God and that he had it now, not me.  I cannot explain how it felt in this moment adequately because it was as if everything I had known about God didn’t make sense anymore. To me he didn’t have it and I wasn’t sure why I still felt horrible. Where was God….where was I?

I look back on that moment 7 years later and my heart breaks for myself and the countless other Christian women and men who wonder where God is amidst mental anguish. Why it’s difficult to understand that you don’t feel better after reciting your favorite verse or praying to let it go. Why sometimes it takes medicine to start to see a little light and the draining of your savings to a counselor and very expensive doctor. And why sometimes it takes thinking God has abandoned you to begin to really understand him at all.

I guess my ticket for the crazy train planted a seed in me for others like me and that has led to some incredible conversations and a heart for this blog. There is hope. More to come!

**Please also know that my mother had no clue how to help me and has since learned volumes about anxiety and loving her daughter a different way. She was my best friend on a tough journey and still today is my best prayer warrior.