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You guessed it! More transitions.
I’m not going to do a post summarizing 2011.
Not going to do it.
Why?
Oh, because 2011 SUCKED!
Right up to the end.
And I wouldn’t be able to share very much about why it sucked, so it’s just not worth it.
2012 has started out with slightly less trauma, because we only had to say goodbye to Bright Eyes (Baby E’s new name, cuz’ the whole initial thing was getting too confusing.) But at least she is in a loving, Godly home, where she is with her two sisters, and close enough that we can visit her on a regular basis. That’s why it’s less trauma.
Bitty Babe (Baby A’s new name) is doing extremely well, and now that I only have 1 babe to focus on, things have calmed down considerably. She is a sweet little thing, but is really struggling with her weaning process. She’s so much more rigid and spastic than Bright Eyes ever was. She is in pain the majority of the time, so if she’s awake, it’s rare that she’s not crying. I can’t wait till she is completely done with her wean so we can see what little girl will get to emerge.
Bitty’s case is so up in the air at this point that we have no idea how long she will be with us. There is a lot of family involved, so it’s possible that someone could step up to take custody at any point, but that’s not the impression that I’m getting. Visits so far have not been consistent, so we’ll see how that develops. Hubby and I are a little more guarded with this placement because of the heartbreak that happened with Bright Eyes. We want to make sure we have all the information possible before we commit to any decision. For now, our job is to love Bitty as completely as we can so that we can give her the same opportunity to thrive as we did for Bright Eyes.
Our baby girls have been amazing ambassadors for the need for foster parents. They both have attracted so much attention when we are out and it almost always results in at least one good conversation about the need for foster parents in our community. Unfortunately these conversations usually include the phrase/question that I have come to dread and despise. It comes out something like “Oh, I could never do that. How could you give them back?” Or “Doesn’t it just kill you when you have to give them back?” or, the worst of them all, “Oh, I couldn’t do that. I would just love them too much.”
As if we don’t love them with all of our hearts.
As if it is easy for us to send these babies on to whatever is in store for them.
It’s called SACRIFICE, people!
We love them completely so that we know that we didn’t hold anything back. We give them everything we have to give so that we never have to wonder “Did I do enough?” We give them the gift of a strong bond. The gift of knowing that they were loved and cherished. Not just safety, although that is critical, but nurturing.
I’m not strong enough, but the love is not from me. I just pass it on. How could I knowingly chose to not do that?
Okay. Venting over.
Who knows what this next season will bring, but I definitely hoping for something better.
Blessings!
Hannah
Like the new look?
If you read my blog through a reader, please take the opportunity to click the post link and visit my actual site.
Do you like what you see?
My sweet and incredibly gifted Hubby and I have been working hard for about a week redesigning my blog and making it something that is much more “Me”.
Take a look around. There are all kinds of hidden gems.
All of the graphics, except the snowman…because Hubby got impatient….are my doodles, drawn with sharpies.
If you check out the “Story Book” button, you’ll see I’ve added a few more of my short stories, with more to come later.
The “About Me” section is still under construction, but I am super psyched about its new look.
I love that my blog is now an even bigger reflection of my personality, and now a big outlet for my doodle creativity too! 
As we add more features, I will be sure to let you know, if you are supposed to be let in on the fun, but some things you’ll just have to discover for yourselves.
Blessings!
Hannah
An early Christmas gift
The Stubborn house has a new member.
Thursday afternoon a worker from our agency called and said “I know you and [Hubby] wanted to take a break…”
“But?”
“But there’s a baby girl who needs a home. Would you be willing?”
After a short discussion of the few details she knew, which wasn’t much, I told her the answer would most likely be “yes”, but I had to check with Hubby. So I did. The answer was yes.
Baby A arrived at 2 o’clock Friday afternoon. She’s so tiny! She’s less than 3 weeks old, so much more “newborn” ish than Baby E was. She’s had a rough start as another victim of the ever popular “white r*sh” epidemic. She is so spastic and rigid that I couldn’t even straighten her arm to get her gown on. She’s not on phenob*rb like Baby E was, so I’m going to talk to our pediatrician about that when I take her in ASAP next week.
It’s definitely a challenge with two infants who both need attention, often at the same times. Baby E heard me get up with Baby A at 5:30 this morning and decided that she wanted to join the party, so I sat her on the floor with a toy while I made two bottles (thankfully they use the same formula!), and then I held Baby A on my lap and had Baby E next to me lying on a pillow holding her bottle by herself.
It’s so amazing to see the size and developmental differences between the two girls. Baby E is practically a toddler compared to the itsy bitsy Baby A. She is just so little.
Anywho, my brain is sleep deprived and I am having trouble making sense, so since both babes are sleeping at the moment, I am going to head to bed. I will write more details very soon…maybe even tonight if someone gets rambunctious.
Blessings!
Hannah
Transition meets denial
It’s really started.
Baby E is starting to transition to her new home.
Her new family.
I can type those things, but the words get stuck in my throat and I avoid them at all cost.
I caught myself avoiding calling Miss C. Mom or Mama. I didn’t want to say it, because saying it would get me a little closer to the reality that I am never going to be that to this precious baby girl.
Now, if you remember when we brought Baby E home we decided to refer to ourselves as Äiti and Isä, the Finnish words for Mom and Dad. This was mainly for Jeremiah’s benefit; later on we thought we were just being trendy and different, but we soon found out that it also was a way that we were attempting to protect our hearts. A disassociation barrier of sorts.
I can still sort of pretend that I am just taking her to a babysitter. I might have to for a while, otherwise I just get too angry.
Hubby will be going with me Wednesday when I go to pick her up. I hope this will help give him some peace. He’s really been struggling with this. The fact that she came home smelling like someone else’s house tonight just drove him nuts. No one is good enough for his little girl, and in his heart these people are taking her away from us. It’s so hard. I guess I feel that way too sometimes, but I can’t let myself go there. I have to fake being okay with this, otherwise I’m going to be more crushed than I already am.
It’s hard because I really like this family. They are wonderful. They’re sweet, and gentle, and super helpful. They’re patient with us and they know how much we are hurting…well, as much as they could know. They love Jesus and will raise her up right. But they are not us. She is not the woman who rocked E for hours when E couldn’t stop screaming from the pain of the m*th withdrawals. He is not the man who stayed up till 3 AM because E decided she was hungry right before he was going to bed. She is not the woman who worked so meticulously on all the exercises the physical therapist prescribed, despite E’s fussing and crying because her legs and hips were just too tight. He is not the man who snuggled with E in his big chair reading books, because that would be “their thing”.
They’re just not us.
And we have to deal with the fact that although we are so blessed to know that we gave her a great start, and that she knows what love and security feels like because of us, she will not remember all those things above. She won’t remember my silly songs or Hubby’s silly voices. Unless we actively stay in her life, she won’t even remember our faces.
That stabs me right in the mama heart.
So this is my sacrifice? This is laying myself down? This is putting her above me?
And I’m not even being asked to slit her throat. (That’s an Isaac reference BTW.)
And now to quote Mother Therese…sort of…
Lord, you told me you won’t give me more than I can handle, but right now I wish you didn’t trust me so much.
Blessings!
Hannah
What is a woman supposed to do…
When she is losing a baby birthed from her heart?
When the feelings of inadequacy and emptiness that come with infertility have come back full force, and immeasurably stronger than before because now she knows what she’s missing?
When she prayed harder than she’s ever prayed before and the answer is still “no”?
When she is having a hard time trusting her Heavenly Father with her heart because it just hurts too much, and she is afraid?
When going to church breaks her heart because of all the babies EVERYWHERE?
When all she wants to be is someone’s Mommy?
She waits. She waits to see what new adventure is around the corner. She waits and listens and holds onto hope as hard as she can, even when holding onto hope makes it so hard to breathe.
And she worships. Especially when it’s hard, because that’s when it really matters.
And she cries to her friends when she needs to, because some of them really get it, and the ones that don’t choose to love her all the same.
Blessings!
Hannah
Christmas Traditions – Then
Posted by Hannah Rae on Dec 10, 2011 in Life in the Stubborn house, Memories
I love the stories behind how traditions are formed.
Growing up we had a lot of Christmas traditions, and as a kid I took them as a given. It wasn’t until later that I found out the simple reasons that formed those traditions.
For example, we always open all of our presents on Christmas Eve, so obviously we weren’t a Santa Claus kind of family. It wasn’t that our parents didn’t allow us to believe in the magic of Santa, it just was not taught or emphasized. I asked my parents about this later and they said that they didn’t want to teach us that Santa was real, and then turn around and teach us that Jesus was real, because one really is, and really loves us, and really wants a relationship with us, and the other is a legend who has become a symbol of a lot of things, and some of those things are not worth teaching your children (i.e. commercialism, and being good to get stuff.)
Christ was the center of our household growing up, especially at Christmas. Being a pastor’s kid meant late night services Christmas Eve, but that didn’t stop us from having our own little Christmas pageant before we opened our gifts. We’d get all dressed up and act out the story as Mom read from Luke and Dad videotaped. When we were very young David and Sarah played Mary and Joseph, I was usually the angel of the Lord (fitting, right?) , and Rachel was baby Jesus. One of my favorite Christmas memories is a video we have of Rachel at about 16 months old in a laundry basket manger. She would just not stay in! So Sarah kept pushing her down and Rachel kept standing right back up, smiling up a storm. When Rachel was too old to be baby Jesus any more, her role was changed to a shepherd and a cabbage patch kid replaced her as the Holy child.
Christmas Eve dinner was fondue! I guess my parents got a few fondue pots as wedding presents or something, and it was a fun way to do dinner with four kids. We had a spread of all kinds of fruit to dip in chocolate, yummy bread to dip in hot cheese, and good ole’ red meat (venison or beef steak) to fry in oil. Yes, our parents apparently trusted us enough to allow us to fry our own meat, although I’m not sure when that started.
Anywho, another reason we opened our presents Christmas Eve, I found out later, is because we would always head to our Grandma’s place in Duluth very early Christmas morning. Our parents would pack us up in our PJ’s and load us into the maroon minivan while it was still hours from daybreak. That way, we would sleep most of the 8 hour drive and wake up just before we arrived. Smart people, my parents.
The experts say that smell is one of the most intense senses that trigger memories. I can attest to that because I can still distinctly remember how my grandma’s apartment building smelled. There was a gas fireplace in the lobby and the smell of Christmas-y potpourri from the holly wreaths and other decorations that residents hung on their doors. Grandma’s apartment had a very unique combination of scents as well, although the one that sticks out in my mind the most is the aroma of turkey loaf. You know, the Jennie-O frozen kind that cooks in its own gravy. Sometimes I cook that up just because I’m missing Grandma.
Both of my parent’s families lived in Duluth, so although we stayed with our dad’s mom (grandpa died before I was born), we spent time with our mom’s dad and his wife as well. Our maternal grandma died before I was born, but grandpa had remarried to a wonderful woman who totally accepted us as her grand kids. After opening presents at Grandma’s and hanging out with our uncles, aunts, and cousins, we would head out to Grandpa’s to do the same.
Grandpa was a very quiet, stoic man, but Grandma Marie was loud and boistorous. She had kids from her previous marriage, and they had kids, so we had a lot of step-cousins running around to play with. There would be a huge spread of snacky foods on the dining room table, and I remember loading up on broccoli and ham buns. Grandma Marie bought us the most interesting presents, most of which she bought on the home shopping network. One year I got a plastic doll that crawled. It broke the next day. My dad’s brother, Bill, said he could fix it because his brother, Richard, was a doctor. He couldn’t.
Anywho, after opening presents the cousins would head downstairs to the basement where there would be a roaring fire in the fireplace. Rachel and I were talking about the basement not to long ago and she asked me if I remembered the mugs that Grandpa had on a shelf on the wall. Oh yes, I do. They were a series of mugs that had a nak*d woman (was it a mermaid?) climbing out of the mugs. It’s just one of those really odd things that sticks out in our minds. Hehe. We also remember our cousin (Donny? Scott?) that would always roast his socks in the fireplace. Odd.
Those kinds of family memories make up a childhood and are something that I want to be able to share with my kids someday, and I hope that our boys have benefitted from the effort we put into making their Christmases special, and will remember them fondly.
Do you have any quirky traditions? I’d love to hear about them.
Leave me some comments, people! Over 300 of you are reading this blog daily, so now would be a great time to hear from you.
Merry Christmas Blessings!
Hannah
Christmas Traditions – Now
I love Christmas.
It is truly my favorite time of year.
I’m one of those annoying people who plays Christmas music all year round. I figure you can’t be accused of playing it to early if you never stopped. Spotify has become my new best friend this Christmas because I have made my ultimate Christmas playlist with almost 800 songs. Baby E and I listen to it every morning as I’m feeding her breakfast. I’ve got everything from John Denver to Veggie Tales on there. It’s pretty sweet.
Anywho, since both boys are gone this year, and Baby E is too young to participate in a lot of activities, I’m missing a lot of our Christmas traditions this year.
One tradition that has stayed is that Rachel and I do the majority of the Christmas decorating. The past few years Hubby’s dad has gone out to the homestead and finds a tree that he thinks is impressive enough to be honored with the corner position in our living room. He scopes them out all year.
This year’s is a beauty. Hubby and Dad put on the lights and then Rachel and I put on the ornaments the next day with a VHS tape of Muppet Christmas Carol playing on the TV. One of my favorite things about decorating the tree this year was pulling out all of the beautiful ornaments that I bought after Christmas last year. I wait until end of January when all the Christmas stuff is 75% off and then get the really fancy, hand-blown glass ornaments. Another reason I love getting them after Christmas is that I get to experience the fun of re-discovering my treasures all over again the next Christmas. I catch myself saying things like “Oh! That’s so cute!” or “Oh yeah! I remember getting that!” as I un-package my green and red bins….which I also got on clearance after Christmas.
One tradition I’m really missing this year is the nightly lighting of the Advent candles. We started this tradition the first Christmas the boys were with us as a way to introduce them to the wonder of the prophecies and fulfillment of Christ’s birth. We lit the candles every night after dinner and read scripture passages that corresponded. We quizzed the boys on the meaning of each candle as they took turns lighting and then blowing them out. It was a really special thing. I miss it.
Only God knows what our next year will bring, so I know that by this time next year Christmas will have a whole new layer of meaning and tradition. One of my favorite Christmas stories is “All is Well” by Frank E. Peretti. I listen to it year round and actually performed it at competitions in high school. At the close of the story Peretti describes how God is the great story teller of our lives and how He loved us so much that he wrote Himself into our story as a baby in a manger. He came into this earth under extremely adverse circumstances and experienced the rejection and chaos this life has to give. He chose to do that. For me. So even though this year has had a lot of pain and hurt, I am choosing to hold onto joy. Joy that comes from deep inside because of what and whom we celebrate.
Merry Christmas Blessings!
Hannah
***BTW, no one paid me anything for my opinions. They’re just things I like.***
Transition
I’m sorry I’ve been quiet again.
My heart is hurting and I want so badly to write about it, but I can’t. Everything is just to confidential and sensitive.
Things are changing. Big time changing.
Like…. I don’t know what God is doing, but I hope this season is coming to an end and the next is full of all kinds of joy….kind of changing.
One thing that has my heart in a vice is that Baby E will be moving on after Christmas. We thought we might have the opportunity to make her ours forever, we fought for it, but it just wasn’t meant to be….apparently. The family she will be going to has her older two sisters as well, and they are an amazing family. They love Jesus, and they will raise her up in the right way. If I could pick a family to take care of my precious girl, they would be it….but they just aren’t us.
Hubby is crushed. We both are. It comes in waves. Every time she smiles at us it makes it worse. It feels like our joy is leaving.
Okay, Lord. I know. You want to be our joy. But this still hurts.
Too much mourning in too little time. Too much loss. Too much change.
So what’s next? The challenge for me is going to be to rest and wait and try not to jump into something to try to fill these holes I am feeling. The holes are in my identity. Who am I now? What am I here for? How do I wait effectively? How do I allow myself to be healed? How can Kaleb and I heal together?
Lots of questions. No easy answers.
So there you go.
Be patient with me.
Blessings!
Hannah
And I’m still thankful…on purpose.
It’s been tough.
I failed at the thankfulness countdown.
More trauma.
The babe might be moved soon.
Too soon.
We are appealing the decision, but I have no confidence.
Jeremiah’s situation is so up in the air.
Where will he be? Who can help him? What role are we supposed to play? How much can our hearts handle?
It’s been hard to be thankful because I’ve been so angry. Angry that we are having to go over yet another hurdle, and another. The past two years have been so hard and it’s just not letting up. We are asking a lot of questions that there just are not easy answers to.
It’s hard to breathe.
This weight that’s on my heart feels so overwhelming that it makes every breath a conscious effort. Every smile is a decision.
My friend Eileen said it so well.
“If it looks to you as if I don’t take something seriously enough because you cannot see the blood from my broken heart spilling out all over, ok, that’s good cause that would scare the kids. And maybe what you see is me standing on the rock of my faith – my incredible Father, Who is working things out in our lives. Or, maybe what you are seeing is some therapeutic dancing and singing because we are intentionally choosing not to live in the pain every. moment.
You know they say you cannot judge a book by its cover… along those same lines – you cannot always see the brokenness of a life by looking at someones’ face.
Imma gonna dance on – with you or without you, it’s ok, I have friends who get it.”
But sometimes there are just too many unanswered “what if’s,” and sanity is just not possible.
But I am choosing to be thankful. Choosing very carefully what attitudes I hold onto. The emotions and the feelings and the thoughts come like darts and hit at some very inconvenient and even inappropriate times, piercing me to the deepest parts of my…depths, but I choose what stays.
Somehow, I’m going to have to choose to say “You give and take away, blessed be Your name.”
Somehow.
But be patient with me, and remind me gently, and if I yell at you and tell you to shut up, love me anyways, and then try again later.
And keep praying for us, ‘cuz none of this makes any flippin’ sense.
We need our suddenly.
Blessings!
Hannah
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