Tag: healing

A Sober Reality

Published on by mamaknowsmessLeave a comment

Back and forth, to and fro, down the winding roads of rural North Carolina – I drove home from a solo trip to the grocery store. Nothing but the sound of the car engine humming and the cicadas buzzing loudly.

Overstimulation was something I thought only young children suffered, but as I spend more time in self reflection, I learn that overwhelmed moms who have stuffed their pain suffer from it too.

So my husband breathes life into me by suggesting a trip to town alone where I can turn the radio off, put the house chores and to-do list away and smile eagerly up to my Heavenly Father in anticipation of hearing his voice. Car rides have been a favorite of mine since I first held that shiny new license at the adventurous age of 16.

I had been wrestling with the number 4 over the previous weeks, feeling unsure how that could relate to the number of children I had waiting at home. Being a mother to 3 children has been a gift I never even knew I wanted. Something that brings me unending joy and a newfound connection with the world around me. Was the Lord asking us to foster our adopt? Would we mentor a child or grow close to a neighbor? Why was God drawing my attention to 4?

As if my right foot and heart strings were attached, together they came to a halting stop. Our driveway, the refuge I needed to finally see and let go. God wanted to heal my heart and reassure me that he held my sweet babe in his loving arms and that I do, indeed, have 4 children. One waiting for me in a place where pain has no stay.

And that was the first time I soberly thought about my Abortion in over 10 years. Ten deep, dark years full of clumsy attempts to numb the pain…..suddenly brought to a halt.

Abortion Reveals Itself in Unexpected Ways

Published on by mamaknowsmessLeave a comment

The human mind is a great mystery, constantly being studied. Is it a part of the human intelligence we haven’t yet discovered or is there some mystery part of us that makes discoveries and acts on them without us even realizing it? Like this secret confession I’m about to share with you.

I kept it secret for so long, I hadn’t shared it with anyone else….or even myself until yesterday. The memory of going into a colonoscopy/endoscopy 2 years ago and actually looking forward to the feeling of being put to sleep. It would be painful and uncomfortable to be awake during the procedure, sure. But it was more than that.

I had no anxiety about the procedure itself – instead it was a longing. To be so unaware, the experience would be not only be blocked from memory but would never even make it there. No chance at being recalled or relived.

What is both the parallel and paradox of being awake during my abortion and then again during my 3 c-sections? Experiencing the closing of my heart, the numbing and ignoring of pain and then later the opening of my arms and awareness of new life….all awake.

Then following putting my heart to sleep and sending my soul on a search for a home. The home to which God stood knocking on the door. Not only was I not answering, nobody was home. She was out, nomadically searching for something she felt she did not yet possess. A familiar feeling to most, I think.

The best news is: I serve a God who isn’t satisfied with waiting outside the door. He goes on a hunt of His own. Knowing where I am…but pursuing my heart incessantly.

And only through great pain, would I later experience His love in ways I could never imagine. A fullness and depth I only dreamed of finding. Imagine that hurt so deep and wide and dream of a love deeper and wider than even that.

Surviving Abortion | My Abortion Story

Published on by mamaknowsmessLeave a comment

The blankness, emptiness and just plain white of this paper as I write, takes me to another place. It’s not the awe inducing white of seeing heaven in a dream or the shimmer of freshly fallen snow, but it’s white and it’s bright.

If there were pictures on the wall or colors on the chairs, I can’t recall. And just as the words start to color this once new, clean paper – the weight of decision would start coloring my life story that day.

Maybe if I act as though this is a routine doctor’s visit, I will be ok…..I remember my sister always hated shots and the idea of doctor visits, but I never really minded it. After all, shots only sting for a second.

Would I have that kind of willpower now? To finish this day with just a small sting?

Vaccines are for the better; they protect us. Doctors have our best interest at heart, right? Surely, someone would sit me down and guide me through this….a pros and cons list. Something.

If they did, my memory has tied that conversation up tight – double bagged it even – and thrown it out with the daily trash, hopefully lost in some unending pile of forgottens in the local landfill.

Good thing the landfill is local because I’m not from here. I currently live 5 hours down the road in a tiny Kansas town that loves it’s people. Where I jumped on hay bales as a kid and drove tractors down to see the sunset. One good thing about living in the flat land, is having nothing to block the view.

But this building blocked every memory of warm colors – at least in this moment. Did this place even have windows?

“Sign here, ma’am, and we’ll be right with you.” …..Ma’am. Is it ok to call a 17 year old girl, ma’am? Young lady might have been more fitting. But adult decisions call for adult names, I suppose.

It could have been 10 minutes…or it could have been 110 minutes, I’m not sure how long we waited. I’ll never know if he remembers, either.

Our minds and hearts sometimes play this odd game of hide-and-seek with painful memories. Maybe, bury the treasure and burn the map is more like it. Or – as I attempt to recall this painful experience for the first time in 13 years, the most accurate description seems closest to that of a soldier. Having been trained to be tough, yet hyper aware.

I’ve heard of it happening….stepping on a land mine and being so thrown back by the explosion, the only sensation is that of a painful ringing in the ears and utter confusion.

I’ve never been a soldier, but I have been in battle….with my past. The uniform slightly different…blue….with buttons down the back.

I had to google it. Today, I had to. How long does the operation take? Is it painful? How do you feel after the procedure? Did this really happen? Was I really there? Google can’t answer that….and I’m afraid, some days, I can’t either.

The nurse was pleasant, commenting on our unique names and how cute they sounded together. Using the word cute just then about made me drop my pen. Cute? As in what most people use to describe a child? Which I still technically was….one used to describe the chubby, yet flawless cheeks of a newborn – begging to be pinched by the nearest well meaning admirer.

What happened to ma’am? Small talk. I mean what else would you do in her position? Again, plain white room. There could have been pink walls with yellow stripes for all I know…….but white is how my memory will forever paint them.

“There’s the bathroom, go ahead and change into this gown – buttons facing the back, then we will be all set.” All set. Google says “all set” means ready. Then I’d be ready.

Some will want to know the details, some won’t – and to be honest, I can’t recall much. They do a pretty “good” job of making it fast. One day I may seek out stories from medical professionals who may have lived the other side – but for now, I’ll continue by telling you I was “awake.” By medical standards anyway. Awake and fully grasping the situation? I don’t think so.

I’ve been put to sleep for many other surgeries including minor procedures like getting teeth pulled, but for this – I was awake. The truth of the matter is – even if I had been put to sleep, the memory and sobering reality will remain awake in me forever.

Do they make Anbesol for emotions? Google (more specifically WebMD) describes the medication as “…a local anesthetic that works by numbing the painful area.” I would spend years spreading on generous coats.

Not much makes sense after that. Chilies….loaded mashed potatoes…a visit to the bathrooom. It was too soon for food. Hotel bed…..I need Gatorade….do they have a vending machine? How did we drive 5 hours home and I have no memory of it?…

Senior year of high school…I guess I’ll join cross country and take on yearbook editor…..my class really voted me secretary? Do they know I’m a mother? Of a decreased baby? No. Deceased has flowers on the casket….murders comes with chains. 

I’ll pause there. Because I’m a Christian, I’m forgiven, but please don’t take a way the chance for me to name the sin and then fall to my knees as I praise a God who shed his own blood to clean up mine. To make this paper and that doctor’s office white again.

A New Song

Published on by mamaknowsmessLeave a comment

Do the birds know something I don’t yet know? I can hear it in their cheerful song. Never missing a sunrise. The opportunity to sing anew; to skip along linked arm in arm with a melody.

Not versed in scripture or reading, but need they be? In Psalms we read of new joy coming with the morning. Can the birds somehow feel it? Like, maybe somehow, the rising of the light feels differently than the setting? The feeling of warmth after night and darkness? A reminder of God’s faithful returning. The comfort of something staying the same?

Or is it the wake accompanied by full rejuvenation that urges them to sing? Something about rest followed by the still and quiet. A meeting with creation. A song so unexplainable, yet we feel it clear down to the happiest parts of us. The souvenirs we carry and keep from the garden. From a time where everything was new and our creator called it good.

“….weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning.” Psalm 30:5

My Quiet Place

Published on by mamaknowsmessLeave a comment

There’s a place aloft the Colorado National Monument that may as well have a spot carved out, about the width of my jeans…..labeled, “Lakin was here.” In those early days as a single mother, when all that mattered was off on a visit to her dad’s- this is where I landed.

In an attempt to quiet my aching heart, the journey would start with 20 minutes on the road- windows down, taking in that easy air. The lightweight, slightly cool, Colorado air (can you tell my newly asthmatic lungs drool at the memory). Swirling its way ever so gently in and out of my freshly cut locks. I always cut my hair when Im feeling unsure.

Enter the gate, park that car and don’t plan on getting back in for at least 3 hours. Sure, it was risky going for a hike alone, but something about that sunshine on my skin made God’s embrace tangible. Like, here honey, sit here and take in my creation – I’ll guard the gate.

Colorado is much different than the North Carolina terrain I enjoy as I pen these words. The sky is open, trees more sparse and rocks ore magnificent. Please don’t hear me say that North Carolina isn’t equally beautiful, with it’s enormous trees, smoky blue hills (I’m from the Rockies, these are hills) and incredible history. There’s just something about home, and home is where I was.

Looking over the entire city with a bird’s eye view, surrounded by the red rocks and silence. Funny how the caw of an eagle – the crash of water against the rocks can be labeled as silence amid the city hustle. Those waves are working hard to smooth the edges over time, as God is with my heart. The sudden crash causes a harsh edge, but the streams continue flowing faithfully time after time.