I love the children of my womb. There is no doubt about that. Each of them is special in different
ways. They each have talents that are
unique to them. Their personalities are
all different, though I see a piece of me in each.
Ashley is a mother – to everyone. She mothers her sisters, her friends, people
she meets in the street. She’s a tough
mother – she loves with all her heart but she doesn’t let her “children” get away
with anything. She’s a homemaker, she
loves a tidy house, she loves to cook meals and feed people. She is a planner and an organizer. She is a goal setter and a goal chaser. She’s also a steamroller – if she sees
something that needs done, she goes after it and it GETS DONE. When she feels something is right, she holds
on and doesn’t let go. But she’s willing
to learn as well…. It just takes her time to change her mind, not much time,
but time none the less. She is amazingly
faithful, and despite setbacks in her life that seem to remove her very hopes
and desires from the equation of her life’s plan, she holds on to faith and the
promises she has received from her Father in Heaven. She amazes me with her grasp of eternal
truths. She is my “go to” when I have
questions that MUST be answered. She is
my sounding board for all things spiritual.
I know that I can depend on her, no matter what comes my way.
Rebecca is a loner, an artist, OCD to the max and yet a
complete slob when it comes to her apartment.
She’d rather be reading, writing, drawing or painting rather than doing
housework. She chooses whom to let into
her heart, but when she finally lets you in, you’re there to stay. She has few friends, but the ones she has she
is faithful to and they are dear to her.
She’s an analyzer, breaking every action, every word down into its most
basic components, turning them over, measuring them against each other, and
deciding which to keep and which to toss.
She is selfish, and she’ll tell you so, but when she is needed, she goes
and she gives. Because she analyzes
everything, she is a great listener… and I don’t mean “great” as in “terrific”,
I mean “great” as you would define Einstein as “great”, or Ghandi as “great”,
or Mother Theresa as “great”. She
listens without judging – because she hates to be judged. She listens with compassion and understanding
(though she will deny that!) because she wants compassion and
understanding. When I need to vent, she
is there. She tries to help me see all
sides of whatever issue I’m struggling with, and leads me, without telling me
what to do, to the perfect solution.
Victoria is a wild child - wild with restraint. She is the one daughter I know the least
about at this moment, and dearly want to know better. She is loyal to her friends and family,
gives even when it will hurt her in the end.
When she loves, she does it with every bit of herself, but heaven help
you if you hurt her. She will turn on
you like a viper and you will feel the sting for a very long time. She doesn’t like to keep house – she’d so
much rather be outside with her horses! – but mess will eventually drive her
crazy. She is a “redneck” (whatever that
means and however it happened!), a country girl. She loves country music and Shakespeare, what
a combination! She is my “fixer”. When something needs done, she “get’s ‘er
done”! She doesn’t wait around to figure
out anything, she works out the logistics as she goes. Sometimes that gets her in hot water, but
she’s sharp and figures out how to get herself out of that as well. With her around, I may go a little crazy, but
I know my back is covered.
I have two other daughters who I miss…. I rarely talk about
them because when I do the pain comes back.
I lost them when they were tiny and never had a chance to know who they
would become.
Kara was only 18 months old when she crossed the veil to be
with her Father in Heaven. I believe she
is a great missionary for the Gospel of Jesus Christ. What makes me think that? I firmly believe it was her spirit in
communication with the Holy Spirit of God that brought missionaries from the
Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to my door… not once, but
twice. It was the endless nights of
walking her, rocking her, or sitting up with her that allowed me to see the
“Homefront” videos the Church used to put out.
They would come on in the middle of the night – I would never see them
otherwise. I believe it was her
influence from beyond the veil that let her Daddy to lower his guard and let
the Spirit whisper to his soul, telling him the Gospel was true, that the
Savior loved him, had given His all for him, and would hold his hand through
the grief and pain of losing his beloved child.
She taught me of the love God has for each of His “special” children….
She was one. If she had lived, she would
have never been “normal”, in fact we often called her our “eternal baby”. Looking back now I know that what I saw in
her eyes every day was pain mixed with the joy of eternal love. I know that she was a wise old soul looking
at me through the eyes of a baby, a soul that wanted me to know she loved me
and knew my cares and struggles. I was
privileged to feel her leave her mortal shell, and be there as she joined her
Brother and Savior. I believe He was there
waiting for her, and by His side were my wonderful grandparents. I miss Kara……
I wish she were here to counsel me when life gets too hard. I think she’d know the exact things to
say. Instead, I believe she’s on the
other side, praying for me. I can feel
that power.
Johanna was only 2 months old when the Savior came and took
her home. I found her in her cradle one
beautiful sunny morning – I think it was even a Monday. What a beginning….. She was my “last” child, I could have no
more. The doctor insisted if I tried I
could very well not live to raise my daughters.
I intended on pouring everything I had into her… every last bit of “baby
mothering” I possessed. As your children
grow, you learn that your love changes, evolves, morphs…. You don’t love your 5
year old the same way you love your newborn.
You just can’t. It’s not
normal. Jo-Jo would wrap her little body
around me when she nursed, more than any of my other girls she wanted to be
near me. Her death hit me so hard….. I
hated God for taking her and hated myself for hating Him. I wanted to believe He had my best interest –
and hers – at heart, and yet... How could He do this terrible thing to me!? How
could He take ANOTHER child from me? And
not just any child – but my last……? I
felt such guilt – If I had only stayed up with her, rather than putting her
back to bed after her middle of the night feeding…. If I had only gone in her
room earlier that morning…. If I had only been a better mother…… If only…. If
only….. If only…….. Even twenty years
later I find myself saying “If only….”
And yet, my hope in the Atonement and Resurrection of the Savior of the
world eventually seeps back into my heart and tells me there needs not be an
“if only”, that the Savior came Himself and took her home. She was one of the perfect ones, who had no
need to stay long in this life. I
believe, without a doubt, that the Savior came to her in her room and offered
her the opportunity to serve a mission in the next stage of existence, and as I
hope all my daughters do…. She immediately accepted. I believe she is doing His work, teaching and
loving His children who have died without a knowledge of His gospel. I believe that she spends a great deal of time praying and working for me on
the other side of the veil. I can feel
her influence time and time again.
Now I have three more “daughters” – daughters that are not
of my body and not of my choosing.
Daughters that have been put in my care because their parents cared more
about their own selfish desires than the welfare of their children. (That is the subject for a whole other rant….
Maybe later I will indulge.) And I have
to confess….. many times I find myself
resentful. Not of them, they are
children of God who need care and love.
But of the situation that has placed me in this position.
Twenty plus years ago I was excited to have my children as a
young woman. I figured I had enough
energy that I could manage, and that when the youngest was finally off starting
her own life I would have the freedom to enjoy my husband and build my marriage
in ways that were impossible before.
Three years ago, Ashley was on her mission, Rebecca was
about to start at S.C.A.D., and Victoria was about to leave for college (thank
HEAVENS she was going to stay with my brother!
It was the only thing that saved my sanity at that point!). I had started a full time job doing something
I really enjoyed. I had a garden, farm
animals, and some extra time to go off with my eternal companion to spend time
alone. We had plans of things to do,
places to go, experiences to have. We
were SOOOO looking forward to this time we would finally have to be alone….
TOGETHER! His work hours were great, we
had a little extra money to tuck away (we were foolish! Who thought about the REAL cost of sending
kids to college!?) and some to spend on wild things like a weekend away in
northwest Georgia.
Two weeks before all our plans could really get a start… two
weeks before Vicky drove off to North Carolina…. Two weeks before Rebecca
started her classes (and her hermitage in her “very own room, FINALLY!!”….. Two
weeks….. that was all that was left before what we thought of as
“freedom”…… I received a series of phone
calls that changed everything.
So now I have three more daughters. And we’ve started all over again. And the irony of the whole situation is how
MUCH we’ve started all over. When our
big girls were little, David worked a LOT of hours. It was the nature of the job. He had no option. But the result was that we hardly saw
him. The girls and I would have dinner
alone or wait till he got home at 8 or 9 at night. I was the teacher, the nurturer, AND the
disciplinarian. (“Just wait till your
father gets home!” never made any sense to me.
Who remembers that long!? Not
me!!!) I was the housekeeper, the errand
runner, the bill payer….. Home life
rested completely on my shoulders. Now
that our big girls are big and our little girls are little, it’s as if time has
rolled back. David is once again working
insane hours and often doesn’t get home till after the girls need to be in
bed. I am, once again, the teacher, the
nurturer, and the disciplinarian. I am
the housekeeper, the errand runner. I
still pay bills, but thank heavens for smartphones and mobile apps because
David can do some of that for me while he’s between jobs on the road. I’m not a single mother – thank heavens! My heart and admiration go to all those who
TRULY have to do it “all on their own”…. Widows, single mothers, mothers whose
husbands are away with the military…. They have every bit of my respect and
approbation. But for me…. THIS is “my”
hard…. Because I looked forward to having this time to focus on “me”….
Finally…. After 25+ years of focusing on children and family…..
To add to the stress, I still have that full time job. Me. A
working mother. Me…. Who believes so strongly that God teaches that mothers are
needed in the home. Me… who knows that
this job came by direct intervention of that same God. I have spent time on my knees, in the shower,
in my car, prostrate on my bed “Why are You doing this to me!?” And I must be deaf because I hear no answer.
Aw…. That’s not true.
I have had answers…. Things like “Because I need you to do this for me”,
“Because this is part of My eternal plan for those beautiful girls.” My response?
I am ashamed to admit….. “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME??”
So what do I do? I
add more stress. I decide to homeschool
these three daughters of God. I can hear
you now, “What!? Are you insane?!” and I
have to answer, I think so!
You see, we had very specific and well thought out reasons
for teaching our Big Girls at home. Some
were specific to each girl, but many were general. For instance David and I strongly disagree
that the public schools are the place to teach about sex, morals, values,
etc. Perhaps in the early days of public
education it was ok to teach values and morals, because the schools taught the
morals and values of a Christian society.
If a family had differing religious beliefs or social mores, they chose
a different school that taught the things they believed. But the public school system followed the
Christian ideals of the majority of the population. Today, the values and mores being pushed into
the little heads of children as young as Pre-K are far from what I want my
children to have. David and I also
believe it is a teacher’s job to present the facts, not their opinion, the
opinion of their teachers’ union, or any other entity. Public schools were supposed to be – and
still should be – governed by the people of the community. Not a government organization, lobby, agency,
or anyone with any agenda other than the ones the FAMILIES of those children
want to have. Yet we have all sorts of
subjects that “the powers that be” have decided MUST be taught to our young. I’m sorry….. when a little 5 or 6 year old
brain is asked to accept teachings about families, politics or any other
subject contrary to what the parents of said brain have already been
teaching….that is wrong. And when that
wrong is compounded by telling the child that his or her parents are “wrong”….
Ah…. And we wonder why our children have gone insane and started getting
pregnant at younger and younger ages, or carrying guns, knives, and explosives
to school to solve their childhood difficulties with what can ONLY be called
ADULT VIOLENCE. What are we to expect!?
So…. After 25-plus years of teaching our daughters at home,
keeping God in the curriculum, showing them how all the events of world history
have intertwined to lead us to the place we are now….. How could we deny that upbringing to our
“new” children? How could we, in good
faith, leave them to the influences of a system we very firmly believe is not
only ungodly but is attempting to indoctrinate the children of this country to
a view far different from our own and that of all our fathers? We couldn’t.
So we did the only thing we could…. We chose to educate Grace, Tammy and
Gabrielle, our Littles, ourselves. I
can’t say at home…. We aren’t ever at
home. I still have that blasted full
time job that God set up for me.
We have been blessed….. I cannot deny that. Ashley and her friend Kiera helped us get
started. They kept school going at
home. When we first made the decision to
educate the Littles ourselves, I took them to work with me. My boss is amazing and incredibly
supportive. Who else has a job where they
can actually take their kids to work with them, every day, and teach them
history, math, science, etc.?!?
But here I have to admit something awful. I have struggled with depression for
years. I didn’t even know that’s what
was going on until about 4 or 4 ½ years ago.
I had no idea what was wrong with me.
I thought I was just a horrible lazy person who couldn’t get out of bed
and so spent her days there hiding and crying and sleeping. I was finally given some help and put on a
medication that sorted out the chemicals in my brain. We discovered what the issue was about the
same time we discovered I needed a hysterectomy. Is the depression linked to the medical
issues I was experiencing? Who knows? (One doctor thinks so, but since I STILL have
the depression issues after the surgery….?
It’s possible its related to that crazy period before menopause – since
I still have an ovary left, I’m still producing funky hormones…….)
Having the Littles with me at work started causing insane
anxiety attacks. I couldn’t
function. I’d scream at them (quietly,
because I WAS at work you know!), threaten their very existence….. Oh I HATED them. I resented their existence in my home. I hated their parents and their selfishness
that caused me to have to do their job for them!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!! (Its hard to describe the angry scream that
is meant to be…. Imagine primeval monsters raging at each other…. You’ll get
the picture.)
God bless chemicals.
Sort of. My doc put me on Xanax
of all things. Oh my gosh, the fear I
had/have. The Littles’ mother….. think
Xanax and Vodka….. I was/am terrified
of being addicted. (I actually have n
addictive personality/tendency and fear pain killers and other narcotics while
I crave the feeling of calm and painlessness they provide.)
I shared my fears with my girls and with Ashley’s friend
Kiera who was staying with us. In order to save her own sanity, Rebecca had
moved to her own apartment, and was protecting her own psyche from damage, so she
was unable to help. Ashley had just been
married and was building her own family, so she really couldn’t help. And of course, Vicky was safely ensconced in
North Carolina, far away from the madness that is my life. So,
Kiera took on the daily care of the little ones. But she had things
going on in her life too and headed home a few months after we started. So Ashley, being the amazing person that she
is, decided she would “just handle it” and stepped in and took over. Truthfully, may God the Father bless her
FOREVER for what she did for me!!!! She
handled school. She handled
housework. She handled discipline. She even managed the nurturing thing. All
while she was taking on full time college classes. All I can say is “Thank you Father for online
coursework!” I was able to not take the
Xanax…. Though I have to admit…. I miss the calm feeling at times.
Peace on earth can’t last forever. At least not until the Savior comes
again. Ashley’s course work
changed. She would be taking too many classes
to travel to my house each day, oversee the girls chores, schoolwork and
character upbringing. I’d have to do it
myself. I spent all summer trying to
create a way for that to happen. I
organized their school work for the year, created a special place for them in
my office so they would be out of the way while still having my oversight and
access to me if they needed. Prayed….. a
lot… that my sanity would hold. Again, I
have an amazingly accommodating boss. My
God bless him for his help!!!!
So… combined with a summer of planning, a system of chores
that seems to be working, a menu system that allows me to throw things in
crockpots most days and have supper ready when we walk through the door in the
evening….. you’d think that my life would be great now, wouldn’t you.
Guess again.
I can hear you now….
“WHAT is your issue!!!!???!?!????
For pete’s sake, you have it made!
Awesome adult kids who have their lives (relatively) under control, a job that you love AND allows you to bring
your kiddos so you can follow your conscience, a loving and supportive husband
who TRIES to do everything he can to help…. WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT!????”
…
…
I want to love my Littles the way I love my Bigs.
Because you see…. I don’t.
I try…. I really do. Every day I
wake up thinking “TODAY I will love them more than I did yesterday!” Every day I wake up fully intending to hug,
cuddle, smooch, tickle and play. Each
day I promise myself (and them…. AND Heavenly Father) “Today will be different
than yesterday.” And every day I fail.
Every day is a race to get things done and get us out of the
house. Every day I fuss at them…. Do this! Do that! Hurry up!
WHAT ARE YOU DOING!???!?!??!
Every day I tell myself that it can’t be helped. I HAVE to get out of this house by 8 so I can
get to work on time. Despite the fact
that we do chores every morning to tidy up the house, it’s ALWAYS a disaster. (Don’t even LOOK in the Littles’ room!!! I haven’t seen the floor in months, even
after they’ve “cleaned” it.) The only
day that I have “off” is Monday, and that is the day we have to (“Hurry!!!
We’re going to be late!”) do the errands, the grocery shopping, the dentist and
doctors’ appointments. Sundays are spent
doing the work of the Lord….. too much,
right now, but we’re trying to be obedient to our spiritual leaders, looking
forward to those blessings God promises.
I work Tuesday thru Saturday…… I
have no weekend. Not like “you” do.
I have to admit, every now and then there is a day that we
DON’T HAVE TO GO ANYWHERE!!!! Oh those
days are BLISS!!!! But usually they are
spent recuperating from all the other days when it has been GO, GO, GO!!! We do nothing. I don’t want to be touched, pestered, or
talked to. I have been touched,
pestered, talked to, bothered, bugged... for days and days and days on end and
I AM DONE.
And I am selfish.
I am horrible.
They don't get ANYTHING like the "best" of me.
I am not a good mother to these girls.
And the circle starts again.
The depression because I’m not what I SHOULD be. The guilt because the Littles aren’t getting
the best I should be giving. The hurt
because God has asked me to do this insane thing when I had all these wonderful
plans to spend time with my husband, take college classes (FINALLY!), go to the
theatre, concerts, movies….. The anger
because I CAN’T DO IT ALL WHY DO YOU ASK ME TOO!?? And then the depression because I’m not what
I SHOULD be….. and on… and on… and on.
On top of all this, and slightly unrelated….. but still a
serious part of the mix…… I feel as if
my Church responsibilities are draining me dry.
Service in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints isn’t like
volunteering for a Sunday school class or other position in other faiths or
denominations. We receive these
assignments as callings from God Himself through His ordained servants. We know that.
We feel that assurance when hands are laid on our heads to bless us and
set us apart to this work. So I KNOW God
wants me to do this job He has asked me to do.
But I feel alone in the work. Not
abandoned by God, but by others who are supposed to be laboring beside me as a
team. I am being drained by the needs
(or perceived needs) of those I serve.
Add that to all the other ….. and we have a mix that is
pulling me apart. The stress adds to my inability
to give all I have to any one thing…. Daughters, husband, job, church
service…… And to make matters worse, it
creates a physical, emotional, mental and spiritual fatigue that drives me (in
my own failure to hold to priorities) away from spending time in God’s Word, in
time at prayer, or anything else that might give some relief. Study of the scriptures to me is a treasure….
But its one that I DIG for. Digging in the Gospel takes effort…. Effort that I
don’t have. Praying, though it provides
relief, draws energy from my soul…..
Though it, and study of the Word, would refill my spiritual reservoir,
the energy I know it requires scares me and I find myself avoiding the very
thing that I need because I (mistakenly) fear it will drain me dry.
And my failure to do as I should and spend time with my
Lord, adds to the guilt. Which adds to
the depression, and keeps the circle of despair going.
What do I want?
I want peace in my heart.
Peace in knowing – DEEP down – that I am doing what Father in Heaven
wants. Peace that isn’t shredded by the
stress of daily living.
I want to love my Littles with the abandon depth and power
that I love my Bigs.
I want to get to know, spend time with, and love my husband
without distractions. (That includes
children, dogs, text messages, alarms, phone calls and those BLASTED mobile
game apps!)
I want to spend time in the Scriptures, building and
strengthening my faith, my understanding of the Gospel, my relationship with my
Savior, and my ability to share His light with others who are in need.
I want to be whole.
