No Burden Too Great

‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’ (Matt 25:40)

Let me start out this post with a thank you. To our family, friends, good folk at our Church, and all those who are walking through these difficult days with us. Our days begin and our nights end with prayers of thanksgiving for your kindness and generosity. You have been Christ to us and seen Christ in us. You didn't wait until everything fell apart to run to our aid.  You came quietly and without show at the first sign of our struggle. You took care of us and helped us stay steady. You have been a light in dark nights of confusion and fear. May God bless all of you!

As some of you know, we've had a tumultuous few months. Without warning my husband's shop closed. I won't go into details, but this was a real blow as he had dreamed of a career and long future with this company. Within 24 hours he had secured a new position, but that only lasted for a short time as his health fell apart in the aftermath. For the last little while he has been without a job, struggling to find peace of mind.

What started as a search for the right job, became a struggle with increasing anxiety and depression. This week he was formally diagnosed with moderate to severe depression and told he has to take time away from his job search. As a man who prides himself on his ability to provide for our large family, these are trying days. I am doing my best to remind him every day that he needs to take care of himself and once he's stronger we'll move forward.

In all of this, he has held on to his faith. Every challenge is met with the mantra "Jesus, I trust in you!". He has been open about his struggles and is doing his best to shine a light on the pain of depression. He is so aware of his blessings and still thanks God for all of them, even if his brain is keeping him from enjoying them. We are working hard getting him all the help he needs.

My husband is proof that no burden is so great that it cannot be placed at the foot of the Cross. While there are still times of intense suffering, all suffering can be made more bearable when we unite ourselves with Christ. The greatest hope comes in knowing that the Cross of Christ leads to victory.  My solace is in knowing that we can be like Simon of Cyrene, helping those around us bear the burden of their cross. There is no burden too great when you have the hands of many others lifting you up.

Good News in Bad Times

This month my family received some bad news. After months of watching my mother's health deteriorate without a clear reason, she was diagnosed with multiple myeloma, an incurable form of blood cancer. We don't have a prognosis for her yet, and we won't until after she sees a haematologist. In the mean time, we're all doing our best to stay positive, and stay away from google. There are lots of new and innovative treatments that can give patients who respond well many years of symptom-free living. With that in mind there's still a lot of hope in these dark days.

One of the things I've realized in all of this is how lucky we are to have our faith. I have found myself turning to God for strength and as always He outdoes me in generosity. I haven't felt moved to the anger I would have expected considering the circumstances. I know I could easily get angry, shout at God, or get dragged down in thoughts of "why my family???". When I first heard the diagnosis I had one moment of sadness, a taste of the abiding grief that comes with losing a loved one. And then I took a deep breath and layed my sorrows in God's hands with complete trust. I realize that God didn't make my Mom sick. That's not how these things work. I know that if it is God's will my Mom will be healed. I also know that if He allows her to follow the more painful road of suffering, it won't be because He doesn't love her. I know God loves my mother immensely. I have witnessed first hand how precious she is to Him. Over the years, God has carried her through so many struggles (not the least of which was raising us three crazy kids). She has always found a way to put her suffering aside to find room for love, charity, and joy. If you knew my mother's whole story, you wouldn't believe that she should be as cheerful as she is. By the world's standards, she should be bitter, especially now as yet another struggle comes to her. But she's not. If my mother has taught me nothing else, she has taught me that nothing is too big (or too small) to lay in God's hands. I have watched her time and again choose love and forgiveness instead of anger and bitterness. When we say the prayer "forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us", she is one of the few people I know who can stand in good measure as always forgiving as much as she can and then some. How many of us hold on to grudges over the silliest things? I have seen her forgive those little things, but also hurts of such incredible magnitude. She has been wounded, but she is not wounded. She trusts in God. This is her greatest lesson. Although I wish more of her craftiness and creativity had rubbed off on me, I can't deny how blessed I have been by her example of child-like faith. Just like my kids trust that my kisses can fix their boo-boos, she trusts that there is not hurt God's love can't take the sting out of.

Regardless of what happens, I want to be that example of faith to my children. If my Mom is healed, we'll all throw the biggest part this world has seen since Pentecost. If that's not in God's plan, we'll stand together and lean on Him, and make the most of however much time she is given with us. Whether it be a year or twenty years, whenever she makes her journey to Heaven, I hope we can find a little more of her faith and joy to bide us through our days. God willing that won't be for a good long time.

A Few Months Older

Baby boy is almost 2 months old, so it feels like time for an update. I've started this post a million times but each time I have been predictably distracted. The baby has cried, big sister has tripped, or the three oldest have wanted stories or snacks or just attention. I can honestly say I'm happy for all the distractions. I was only able to blog so much near the end of pregnancy because I felt too big to move, or too exhausted to do anything of substance. We had the TV on almost constantly to entertain the kids, but I wasn't engaging with them as much as I would have liked to.

So where are we almost two months later? The first thing to note is that we didn't just turn off the TV. We took it out of the room completely. We disassembled the TV stand and put the whole mess of stuff in the basement. It has not been put together yet. We never go in the basement but our plan is to fix it up and make it more kid friendly as a cool retreat on this hot summers days. Along with the business of taking the TV out of our living room we took the leap to finally redecorate the living room. We painted over the dark orange (that I truly hated, beyond words) with an inviting blue that made the whole room feel bigger and brighter. We bought some new photo frames and put them up on the wall and hung on the opposite wall beautiful frames with all five kids' names, birth weight and length, birthdays and times. The room really feels like it's ours. We also got an ottoman and need toy bins for storage. We no longer have piles of toys all over the floor (well, when they're put away anyway!). Since we're spending a lot of time in the living room while I feed the baby it feels good to have it feel like our own. It has inspired us to get to work on the other rooms. We can't wait to tear up the wretched reeking carpet upstairs.

As for baby boy, he is doing beautifully. He's still growing well from what I can tell. He's feeding like a champ, sleeping at night, and just generally being a joy. He started to smile a week or so ago and I can confirm that no matter how many babies we have, there's something about those toothless grins that make my heart grow another size or two. I could spend my whole day staring at the little man trying to make him laugh and smile. The big kids are completely in love with him too, and when he's asleep in his playpen I often find a little collection of kids craning to watch his sweet, slow breaths. This, of course, tends to have the affect of waking him up, but I don't have the heart to be upset (most days) as I know they are all SO in love with him. Seeing how much they treasure him makes me love all of them even more. I adore seeing my kids together.

Speaking of the big kids, we've had a rough couple of weeks. One after another the kids have gotten sick. First the biggest girl. We discovered she was sick when she suddenly had a fever at Church, followed by her getting sick on the beach the same day. After that came biggest boy a few days later, who only got sick the one time (of course in his bed). Next was middle boy who never actually upset his stomach, but has looked pale and slightly green for the better part of a week. Lastly was baby girl, who had the good sense to wait for a visit with her grandparents to projectile vomit several times in the course of a half hour. So glad we had blueberry smoothies for dessert. It all seemed more festive and colourful. Today we're having what I hope is a recovery day. Middle child still seems out of sorts, but overall they're all feeling much better. I can't wait to get out of the house to smell some fresh air. I have a little bit of catch-up to do with the housework, but I don't mind as I'd do all the housework in the world to have my babes all better. Sweet Hubby is battling the flu now, but like the trooper I know him to be he's toughing it out at work. Saintliness in all things.

As for myself, I'm finally feeling much more myself. I have my energy back and I love that I can spend the better part of the day reading, playing, and generally experiencing my kids' day without the cloud of exhaustion. I've lost more weight than I thought possible in such a short time, which is giving me back my old stamina. I feel blessed, joyful, energetic and, most of all, grateful. If I had known how easy and beautiful 5 kids would be, I would have run full tilt towards it.

Baby 5: Week 39

How Far Along: 39 Weeks (1 week to go! Deep breaths...!)

How I'm Feeling: Excluding a little hip pain and my pregnant waddle, I'd say I probably feel the best I've felt all pregnancy most of this week. However, even the most hopefully beginnings can turn quickly. The last few days have been punctuated with spouts of vomiting from all the kids and now their Dad. Late night projectile vomiting from oldest boy, unexpected piles of puke in younger boy's bed, and baby girl throwing up repeatedly while sitting on my lap. I joined the team by getting sick Friday night so violently I thought for sure it would induce labour. Luckily it didn't! The only one in the family who didn't lose her lunch was our big girl. She's been very worn out and has insisted on not taking risks with her food intake. We've had lots of toast, bananas and apples for our meals. Poor darlings. Excluding the whole vomit out of already vomit coloured shag, I've been a little spoiled through all of this because the kids have been really quiet and sleepy.

What I'm Thinking: I'm more than a little bit in denial about the fact that we only have one week before our due date (and three before baby will be out for sure). I keep putting things off, thinking I have more time, but the time really is almost here. I'm starting to gear up for labour too. Not just physically, although that is clearly happening since I am having more and more frequent Braxton-Hicks. I'm really working on getting my mind in the right head space for labour. Strong, confident, focused.

What I've Done This Week: I finally folded the piles of clean laundry and put them away. This may not sound like a big deal, but with 5 kids and my not having done laundry properly in ages it really is a huge deal for us. I've also managed to keep on top of all the new laundry the late-night vomiting has produced and got even more done with the piles still lingering in the basement. Between bouts of vomiting we've been working hard clearing out the nursery. My husband pulled up the last of the old underlay and has been clearly out all the heavy stuff, vacuuming and pulling up spare nails and staples. We just need some sunshine so he can cut the flooring outside. I also had the great joy of going out for dinner with two of my favourite Mom friends on Monday. We hit an awesome local restaurant and shut that place down! What a great time. I'm really grateful for that time especially as it hit just before the flu took over our house.

What I Hope To Do Next Week: I've already started to, but this week my big task (y'know, besides actually cleaning my house....) will be to get ready little packs for each of the kids so that Baby 5's faithful Godparents will have no problem taking over here while we're at the hospital. I'm setting them up with outfits for the kids, easy diaper related instructions (because we use cloth), and some tips for meals and naptimes. They're totally awesome and capable people. I feel so confident leaving the kids with them! Other than that, I know my husband will be taking an evening or two this week to quickly slap down the flooring. I love seeing the pride on his face knowing he'll be doing it by himself. It's truly his gift for our baby. I have the joy of carrying this wee one for over 9 months. This nursery really is his own private labour of love.

Baby 5: Week 29

How Far Along: 29 Weeks (11 weeks to go! Uh... what????)

How I'm Feeling: I clearly spoke too soon. I manage after one day of feeling okay to catch the very brutal Mom cold. I can't help but think that those Man Cold ads (ugh, sexist, but anyway...) were based off of my experience of being pregnant with a cold. I would like nothing better than to take a long, hot bath, have the maximum dosage of some cough/cold medicine, and sleep on my belly for as many hours as I can. Well, I shouldn't say I'd like nothing better, because what I like best is this beautiful baby boy, and the knowledge that my sickness isn't bugging him (pretty clearly as he continues to practice for some career in either mixed martial arts or soccer). But at least 2nd to him would be medicating myself back to sanity. Oh well! You win some you lose some. I feel bad for the kiddos having such a whiny, layabout, cranky Mama! They've been real sweethearts about how lousy I've been feeling, and haven't made any complaints about my less than stellar parenting.

What I'm Thinking: I know I shouldn't be because I've been counting down since the early days, but I'm totally shocked that we're only one week away from 30 weeks. I'm excited we've reached safe birth age (although of course having a preemie is by no means my desire, stick in the full 42 weeks like your sisters if you need to little man!), but I'm abundantly aware that despite my weekly reminders in the form of this blog we are still by and large unprepared. In all reality his room doesn't NEED to be ready for birth as we'll be co-sleeping more than likely, but my nesting instinct is wreaking havoc on my sanity. I had a dream the other night that we brought him home and made his bed in a drawer (which was a story told to me by a medical professional of her own parenting choices when we were pregnant with our first that stuck to me) I layed on the floor next to our bed. Not exactly a nightmare, but clearly the voice of my conscience is accusing me for not being more on top of clearing out his room before now.

What I've Done This Week: Baby-related, the only thing I did was switch over to the looser maternity pants (this boy is hanging out on my hips!), have lots of parties and fun times for our oldest boy who turned 4, and felt generally miserable with my cold. I barely showered this week or wore non-pyjamas. Not a banner week, folks.

What I Hope To Do Next Week: I have lots of laundry to do, so I hope to finally prep those teeny tiny newborn diapers and wash my hospital bag (it's been in limbo since the first baby, perpetually half packed. It needs a good freshening up). If I can check just one non-survival thing off my list this week, I'll feel like I've done something. High hopes here.

Baby 5: Week 21

How Far Along: 21 Weeks and 2 days (18 weeks and 5 days to go!)

How I'm Feeling: A little off today. I had kind of a crazy day yesterday. As you may have noticed if you live in the same hemisphere as me, it's winter. Now that Christmas is over, we've finally got some real stick to the ground snow. How does this apply to me as a preggo? Well for one, I hate the cold and am usually ridiculously under prepared for it. I have everything and then some for the kids, but for some reason can't keep a pair of gloves to save my life. And don't get me started on hats. Anyway, there was a snow fall two nights ago, and they still haven't cleared up the sidewalks, so when I walked to Church pushing the tandem stroller I was pushing through tiny snow banks most of the way there while my nuckles and ears got quite frozen. After I got home from our very worthwhile trek to see Jesus and have some fellowship with our Parents & Tots group, I spent the rest of yesterday feeling very tired, cranky, and ridiculously tense. My stomach was tight and aching. Not to mention my back. I can fully admit my back would've been sore from pushing a double stroller uphill on unshovelled sidewalks even if I wasn't pregnant, but with the weirdly tight stomach, I spent the rest of the day feeling so awful. I was freaking out. Today I'm tired, but the tenseness in my stomach is just a mild sense that I clearly overdid it.

What I'm Thinking: I'm mostly thinking that I need to be less crazy. I should have taken the bus both ways, and taken my time getting up the hill at the end of the day. I'm also VERY excited that I can now regularly feel this tiny baby working on some pretty sweet kung fu moves in my belly. My stress from yesterday melts away when I feel my little baby kicking and punching. Besides that, we've had a real run in with Providence. Yesterday, we had two beautiful moments that were reminders of how much God loves our little family, and how he uses those with good hearts to bless us. I feel so undeserving of the amount of love and caring God lavishes on us, and so much gratitude for those who answer the call in their heart to be ministers of grace and mercy to us.

What I've Done This Week:  I've been working on cleaning up after Christmas. I feel like every time I finish the kitchen, I realise I need to clean the livingroom, then the kitchen, then the livingroom, etc. Despite that I manage to go through the kids toys to sort out ones to give away. I'm trying to be ruthless. With 4 kids out and one on the way, we're starting to look like a derelict toy store.

What I Hope To Do Next Week: Dear friends of ours just welcomed their third baby, so my plan is to speak this next week getting some meals ready for them and then out to their house. I love cooking for other people, so I'm going to use it as some personal therapy after the day I had yesterday.

Baby 5: Week 18

How Far Along: 18 Weeks (22 weeks to go!)

How I'm Feeling: I thought for sure I was having a HUGE resurgence of nausea... Turns out it was the lead in to a wicked cold. I thought for sure it was just pregnancy congestion, but by the looks of the kids it was at least mildly contagious. None of them have runny noses, but everyone seems very tired, and have red eyes. Poor darlings. I'm struggling to stay up enough to be Mommy while Daddy is at work. I'd blame the general lack of cleanliness of my house on the cold, but let's face it, that's just normal for me.

What I'm Thinking: Today, I'm holding my babies a lot closer. I'm grateful that my life hasn't been touched by personal tragedy, and that my kids don't understand what little pieces of the news they've accidentally overhead. I've had two sleepless nights, up praying and crying and shocked over the lives lost in Connecticut this week. Pregnancy hormones are not helpful at times like this, so all I can do is pray pray pray for the hurting families involved and hold mine a little tighter.

What I've Done This Week:  I did my 2nd cookie exchange this past Monday at the party for our Young Parents Alpha class. What a fun time! I also stayed out until about 1am so I could see the Hobbit opening night. Every since then I've been sick, but I managed to squeeze in a meeting with a new parishioner to welcome them to our parish, and lead a Pro-Life Holy Hour on Saturday which was much needed and remarkably well attended. I woke up barely able to move form the sick, and so congested I can barely breathe, so I'm keeping my sick to myself and staying in as long as it takes to get better.

What I Hope To Do Next Week: We have a busy week ahead. My friends and I will be collecting the gifts for the family we adopted together with hopes to deliver it very soon. I also have to get a bit of Christmas cooking done right away as I give Tourtiere to family members for their Christmas Eve dinner (a family tradition from my childhood I'm happy to spread!). I also hope to recover from this awful cold.

Misdiagnosis

In case you hadn't heard, my husband had major abdominal surgery today. For the past week or so I have been haunted by the idea of the what ifs for this surgery. He also has a condition named gastroparesis which is a kind of paralysis of the stomach. That means that he is more likely to vomit and asphyxiate under general anaesthesia. Not really a good feeling having this knowledge while my husband is in surgery and I'm at home with four young children. So, I've been freaking out. Maybe a lot. But I haven't JUST be freaking out. I promise! I have been praying up a storm for him and for the doctors who would be operating on him.

This morning when the sun had barely risen my father came to whisk him off to the hospital, leaving me in a very quiet house. The kids were still sleeping so I was left with my thoughts. Just as the thoughts were taking a dark turn my phone rang. Clearly God was whispering in my Dad's ear because he was calling to invite me to Mass this morning. So, while my husband was in surgery, being carefully sliced open by the surgeons, we were walking to Church in the early heat of the day. The sunshine and delicious breeze were a beautiful distraction for both myself and the kids. When we got to Church we had the pleasure of praying for him, and hearing a beautiful homily all about how having faith in God doesn't always mean we trust Him, and that we should seek to place our trust in God with great abandon. It was without a doubt exactly what I needed to hear.

Not too long after we got home the phone rang and my heart skipped a beat. As I walked the few steps to the phone my heart was pounding and my brain traced through the series of possibilities waiting on the other end of the line. To my endless joy, we got the good news that not only had the surgery gone well, but that my husband was coming home a full two hours earlier than expected. When we greeted him at the door the kids were practically bouncing off the walls, and I have to add that I was tempted to join them I was so full of gratitude. I realise I totally blew this surgery out of proportion, but I think it's only natural when someone we love so deeply is ill and facing even a small percentage of death, we act as though it's already happened. Luckily God worked through the hands of the surgical staff and anaesthesiologist and he's back home, safe and relatively sound. He has many weeks of recovery ahead, but that's far better than the alternative.

Once he was through the door and I'd put the kids down for a much needed nap, my husband gave me the run down of what the surgeon had told him post-op. We both fully expected some explanation of the mesh used to repair his hernia, as well as the magnitude of the hernia. As it turns out, the reason his surgery had taken so long (and the recovery so little) time was that when the doctor cut him open, he couldn't find a hernia. Rather than using a scope as he had hoped, the doctor ended up having to cut a larger incision to explore the area in hopes of finding the hernia. The doctor was clearly confused as he himself, as well as no less than three other doctors, had diagnosed an advanced hernia in the area he was looking. My husband's description of his symptoms were also concurrent with the symptoms of an inguinal hernia that had reached an advanced stage. And yet there was the doctor, cutting him open a little more and a little more trying to find this mystery hernia. Eventually he found the cause of all my husband's pain: a little ball of fat that had been there long enough for the nerve and muscle to encircle it. (The idea of my very slim husband with a ball of fat anywhere on his body is kind of hilarious to me!) The ball of fat had been pushing against a nerve center causing intense pain below and above its location. This tiny, seemingly insignificant ball of fat has been causing my sweet husband chronic pain since before we met. I can think of so many unexplained symptoms that lead back to this one problem. For the first time in many years he is regaining some feeling in his right thigh, which has been gradually going numb from his upper thigh down toward his knee. This is important because the fat ball is located at the spot where the leg started to go numb. Not to mention all this business with his digestive tract! They told him early this year that the nerves in his stomach had gone numb, thus the diagnosis of gastroparesis. Everything is finally starting to make sense.

I firmly believe that if my husband hadn't been diagnosed with a hernia, and his pain hadn't been so severe as to implicated a dangerously incarcerated or strangulated bowel, he never would have seen a surgeon so soon. Now, it is my hope that once he's recovered in six weeks, his quality of life will increase dramatically. I can't help but feel excited because I know that when he's back to full strength he'll be able to be the father he wants to be without worrying he'll get hurt. With that in mind, and with the blessing of the misdiagnosis that still led to the proper surgery so quickly, we cuddle up as a family around his chair tonight and said our prayers of thanksgiving. I don't doubt God's hand is in all of this, and it gives my heart so much consolation to know that God is watching over our little family with special care. Today more than ever I will whisper the prayer:

Jesus, I trust in You!

Creamy Asparagus Soup

As we quickly approach my husband's surgery date, I'm working hard to keep this soup business exciting and delicious. This has been tough with the kids, who, although they LOVE soup, prefer thick, creamy soups. My attempt at cream of mushroom was ridiculously delicious. As in, go back and scrape the bottom of the pot for another bite. It tasted like buttery mushroom gravy soup. I kid you not! The only down side of this surprisingly gourmet soup was that my oldest son wanted nothing to do with it. He calmy sipped at the broth, while ignoring the mushrooms and meat I'd included. In retrospect I really should have blended the soup. I think the consistency would have been very pleasing and a little more like the canned soup I'm so fond of. I made a variation of this Broccoli and Three Cheese soup the other day and blended everything at the end. That soup was a huge hit! Going on the theory that creamy blended soups are easy favourites for my kids, our recipe for today is a creamy asparagus soup.

2 bunches of asparagus
8 medium potatoes
Bacon (I used bacon ends from the butcher, but you could use 8 rashers of cooked bacon, cut up)
4 cups soup stock or  broth
Salt and pepper to taste
1 cup cream (optional)

This recipe is ridiculously easy! First up I fried up my bacon ends and when they were cooked on all sides I tossed then in my crockpot with the pan drippings. Then I trimmed the ends of the asparagus and tossed off the stalky ends and then cut the asparagus into 1 inch pieces. I then peeled and diced the potatoes. After all that was in I mixed it around with my hands to make sure it was all even distributed in the pot. I added my salt and pepper and then poured the stock on top. Cook on low for 6-8 hours or on high for 4-6 hours. At the end you can add a cup of cream or milk to add a milky flavour, but I feel that that's not necessary. The creaminess of the soup really derives from the potatoes. When you're all done either (really really carefully!) use an immersion blender and mix it up, or do it in the small batches in your regular blender. This would taste perfect with some grated old cheddar sprinkled on top.

Natural Family (Un)Planning

Let me start his off by saying that I love Natural Family Planning, or NFP. Many of my friends are complete pros at using it, and I find myself in awe of their faith in action. That being said, I must confess we're not exactly the best with NFP. We've done the reading and figured out the rudimentary facts of how it works. I have been able to look at it objectively and see that it is a wonderful, natural and intelligent way of looking at the gift of our fertility. Subjectively, however, I just don't feel that it's right for our family. From before we got married, my husband and I have always felt moved to simply let things come as they will. Any attempt to plan has always led us into great spiritual frustration, which is fruitless for ourselves and our family as a whole. When we have simply lived our lives according to the daily movements of our spirits, we have felt closer to God and to each other. I believe that God inspired the good people who worked out the science of NFP for the sake of His people. He created each of us, and so I trust that He has a plan for each of our families in how we should approach our fertility.  In my heart of hearts, I believe that when He created my husband and I, He created us knowing we would be happier following the voice of our spirits instead of the signs of NFP.

I know that I will accept whatever God gives me. I know that this is the same for my friends who use NFP. Let me clarify that we're not going to go above and beyond to try to conceive 100 children or whatnot. Thus comes our ideology of Natural Family UnPlanning (which I will not abbreviate, as it doesn't have the same clean sounding name as NFP). Even that's a bit of a misnomer. I realise that while I may not be trying to plan my family according to my means, circumstances, and the calling in my hearts, I am depending entirely that God has a plan for our family which He is revealing as we continue on. I guess the difference is that we're completely handing over the control over the scheduling to God. A great example is that right now as we speak, I, for the first time since the 2nd month of our married life, am not pregnant. My body needed a break, and our growing family needed extra attention, so God has worked in His plan that I won't be pregnant for now. This means that, as my husband is suffering with some medical issues, I have been able to devote my love and energy on him without shortchanging our kids. If I was pregnant right now, I would, knowing my history of pregnancy, be overly tired and cranky (okay, I'm still be cranky) and probably increasing in width as I decreased in my ability to do the physical tasks needed to help him cope with these medical issues. God has blessed me with a lack of fertility right now. If He chooses to bless me with fertility later, I will embrace it, and any children that come from that.

As I went in to tuck my little monsters in to bed when I got home from grocery shopping, I was struck by the immensity of God's blessings. If we had used NFP to observe our fertility, I wonder if we would have each of them. The only time we actively tried to have a baby was with our first child, and that was because we felt so strongly called to have her at the time. After her birth we researched NFP, but dropped our books in favour of simply allowing whatever would happen to happen. With 4 little miracles in our 6 years of marriage, I feel that we made the right choice to trust our fertility to God in this way. He took our simple offering and, as He does with all things, has made something greater than we could have imagined. He made us a family. A big, noisy, very messy, blessed family. I have never, not even once, regretted any one of them, even when they're acting insane and I'm feeling like I'm the ringmaster of a three-ring (or is that a 4-ring?) circus gone awry. I'm left at the end of each day exhausted, a little relieved, and a whole lot of thankful for each of them (even the one who has recently taken to biting. Ouch!).

When we were Franciscans, our Superior taught us that the greatest calling of spiritual poverty was to be able to trust entirely in Providence. I guess a part of us never let go of that little lesson, tucked into every homily, every formation day, and every chat we had with him. We've never had to go begging on the street like our holy brothers and sisters, but God has made us the benefactors of His great and continuous Charity through the hands and hearts of so many friends, family and even strangers. Our children have always had a roof over their heads, we've always had transportation, and we've never lacked for food. While we may lack patience some days (and often are at the bare acceptable minimum of clean socks), we always have an overflowing store of love in such abundance that I can easily imagine God doubling our family and still having more. So long as we're called to live this way, I know we will continue to rest entirely on God's mercy, trusting as always that His plan for us is for our good.

The Lord's My Shepherd

Recently you may have noticed our family is on a home made kick. Baby girl is 6 months old now, and I'm back to my characteristic level of energy and enthusiasm. We've been spending more at our local farmer's market than at the grocery store, which is a good sign that I've been doing more from scratch. With the exception of one loaf this week, I've made all our bread, pizza dough, and rolls entirely from scratch. Today, with the help of the three big kids (if you can call a 22 month old, a 3 year old and a 4 year old big), we made some beef stock from scratch. With the exception of a little bit of rice or pasta here and there, everything is made fresh from food we're picking up at the market. I don't want any of the busy and harried folks out there to think that I'm badgering you about it, or that I think you absolutely have to do it. First of all, it's not my business what you all do in your kitchens. It's a lot of work, it takes a lot of planning, and really forces a change of diet pretty much immediately if you go all in.

I'm not bragging, trust me. My dedication to our new meal plan really would have waivered and probably failed by now if it weren't for a few circumstances that have forced me to dig in my heels and make it work. First of all, we've gradually emptied our pantry and freezer of processed or ready-to-make foods. It's hard to reach for frozen pizza when there isn't one. With 4 kids and 2 adults, it's not exactly cheap to hit the fast food chains either. With that, I'm left with whatever is fresh that we bought. It's forcing me to follow my meal plan and I must admit I love not having to think about what's on the menu. There's no last minute running to the store for a missing ingredient, which is another bonus. Secondly, baby girl has started on solids, and I absolutely refuse to use bottled or packaged foods for her. Ignoring all the recalls on that stuff lately, I can't get behind all the added preservatives and things. What's wrong with a few sweet potatoes and an ice cube tray?

The biggest reason we haven't been stocking up on frozen pizza, canned goods, and questionable grocery store meats, stems from recent instructions from the dietition trying to help my husband through his stomach issues. He's a type 1 diabetic and has recently been blighted by paralysis of the stomach. It's not a highly common complication, but once the doctor's figured it out, it was like the puzzle pieces of the past 6 or 7 years fell into place. When I met my husband he wasn't well, and was having problems understanding random low and high blood sugars unrelated to meal times. It turns out his stomach has been holding food, and most of the time only allowing it into his intestinal track as much as a week later, which was causing random jumps in his blood sugar. He's been losing weight lately and in terrible pain. Luckily, the doctors have been able to prescribe him a cocktail of drugs that are working together to make his stomach contract so that it can empty. The medications are only one side of his treatment. The other side, the side that is the long lasting treatment, is a drastic change in diet. First on the list was to eat smaller, more nutritious quantities of protein. The second was to reduce the quantity of fiber he was ingesting (these days even most white bread is fortified to have higher fiber content, thus our homemade variety is safer). He also has to stay away from anything with a high fat content. They also suggested he eat more soft cooked veggies, particularly in the blended form in soups, and to avoid processed foods whenever possible. I could be wrong, but to me that sounds a lot like the meal plan my husband and I worked on together. With baby girl well on her way with solids, a lot of these foods were on our list for her too.

Once again I sit in the face of what should have been a sudden and scary situation that would have changed our lives drastically in a matter or days, but instead of fear I'm left with the deep convictions of God's providence. God has once again led us, so gently, so slowly, to exactly where we needed to be, having armed us with the knowledge we need to do what's right. When we first got the phone call about this major dietary change we were scared and upset, but as the days went on we realised we were already there. If I needed any more proof of God's abiding love and faithfulness to us in a time when all else is falling apart, here it is. In every hour, I find God holding me, carrying me through the rough times.

For our wedding mass, we chose the psalm "The Lord's My Shepherd". I feel like we have made that psalm the motto of our marriage. Thank you, God, for leading us gently, and for loving us in times of fear and struggle. Perhaps instead of 40 days and nights in the desert, God is choosing 40 days and night of rain for our lives. Either way I know at the end God's promise stands firm, as a rainbow in the sky and the Cross on a hill faraway.

I will trust in you alone. I will trust in you alone. For your endless mercy follows me. Your goodness will lead me home.

Calm After the Storm

I love Saturdays. Always have. This particular Saturday, I must say, might be in my all time top ten list. We've had a rough couple of weeks in our family. Besides Hubby's persistent, painful stomach issues (which are oh so gradually getting better), my father has been struggling with his own health concerns for a few weeks. He's had kidney stones, and after weeks of fruitless attempts to pass them, he finally had to have surgery. My father is a larger man, and I must confess I was more than a little concerned about the fact that they had to give him a general anesthetic for his surgery. By God's grace he came through in great shape and is recovering at home under the care of my mother, who happens to be a nurse. Besides all the health drama, I've been cheering on the sidelines as my mother interviewed for 3 jobs as a teacher this week. I don't know why, but I think I get more nervous and excited about it than she does. I want her to be happy and doing something she enjoys, so I find myself getting wrapped up in it all. I've also been busy having playdates and organising playgroups, which has been so rewarding for the kids and myself, but leaves me exhausted by week's end.

Suffice it to say, it's been busy, and even a little stressful around here. So as I sit lazily on my couch while the kids have their snacks, watching the snow drift down from the sky in fluffy clumps, I'm at peace. This is the gift of Saturday. This is the calm after the storm. There's nothing to do in this moment but enjoy my children and husband without worrying about the rest of the week. Our oldest girl is doing cute pirouettes to her favourite song, Cinderella by Stephen Curtis Chapman, as her Daddy watches on with a wistful smile, our oldest son is making up a story to go along with a book he can't yet read, our youngest son is snuggled next to me, eating a whole apple with a level of dedication and seriousness only he could muster, and our baby girl is on the floor getting good practice for crawling, which she seems only days away from doing (AHHHH!). My coffee is still warm and sweet. Life is enfolding before my eyes, and I'm just happy to sit back and enjoy it.

Thank God for today. A Saturday like this is just the right remedy for 100 Mondays.

Finding Joy

Things here have been hectic to say the least lately. My husband is sick with some sort of unknown illness and has been in and out of doctors offices and the emergency room for weeks. All we've been able to figure out is what it's not. They've prescribed him an army of medications that all seem to be doing just this side of nothing for him. It's gotten to the point he can't work a full day most days because the pain gets so overwhelming. He's doing his best to grin and bear it, to hide the intensity of his pain but as the days wear on it's clear he's falling apart at the seams. He is truly the St. Joseph of our family, working hard and doing all he can despite his own setbacks to take care of the family God has given us. Suffice it to say this has been really stressful for both of us and the kids, who are too young to understand why Daddy can't play pony today or why his energy is so low. In all of this I'm struggling, struggling to find a voice for my prayers, patience with my children when I'm distracted by worst case scenarios, and most of all I'm struggling to find joy.

These days even a small moment of joy is enough to fuel me through the rest of an unpredictable day. I'm holding on to my little moments tightly, doing my best to remind myself over and over again how lucky I am. With four children these moments come surprisingly often (mind you they are perfectly balanced with the complete pandemonium that four crying, screaming kids can bring). Each child has their own unique way of reminding me of why it is I keep getting out of bed each morning to jump into the fray, especially on my weaker days.

Today, as I lay in bed giving baby girl her first feed, she fell asleep next to me, and giggled in her sleep. She has a deep chuckle for such a little girl and I could barely stiffle my own giggle watching her smile at whatever hilarious dream she was having. I've struggled so hard with breastfeeding and these little moments remind me why I fight every day to keep that relationship strong. It's helping me to grow my already strong bond with my baby girl.

Our eldest, the little princess, has had the honour of giving me a reliable moment of daily joy for 10 days. She's signed up for a charity campaign where she draws a picture on a chosen theme for 30 days and people pledge to support her. My 4 year old artiste has already raised $150 in support of an AIDS/HIV charity. That's wonderful enough, but to add to this I have the joy of watching her mind work through the idea of her challenge for the day. She usually ends up chatting her little heart out and gets completely distracted before I remind her of her drawing. I then get to watch her bend over her paper with great intensity as she fulfills her task.

Our oldest boy is my little button pusher. He's the screamer, pusher, and definitely the go-to guy if you have a question that demands an answer of "no". I love his spunky and independant spirit even if he drives me a little crazy sometimes. For all of his spiritedness he's truly a gentle soul, and is becoming a doting older brother to his roommate, his little brother. He's started this little habit that I have no intention of breaking (for so many reasons): whenever we get home from being out he gently asks his brother to sit down, then he very carefully takes off his brother's shoes for him. Then, if he can get him to stay still he'll take off his brother's coat. So precious. Some day I think he'll make a great Daddy.

Now our little man, Daddy's shadow, can't help but be adorable. He's on the small side for his age and has just started climbing all over the furniture, a feat his stature had denied him previous. Besides this, he's also started forming full sentences and the results would melt any mother's heart. A lot of what he says involves his brother, running the gamut from "Brother, where ARE you??", "Brother, play with ME!" to "NO, brother. NO!". It's great to see him coming into his own and even better to see that he adores his roomie. I must say though, what really gave me a little burst of joy seems so inconsequential from the outside, but was for me another memory to store in my heart for the lean teenage years sure to come. My wee 20 month old boy, covered in markers, came up to me with a look of the greatest trust and earnestness and, holding up a marker in his perfectly formed little hands, asked me in the sweetest voice: "Mommy, please help me with this. Please!" He wanted me to help him uncap his marker, no biggie. The best part was right after, completely unbidden, he followed up with a big smile, a hug and an unmistakable "Thank you, Mommy!" before he ran back to drawing with his brother and sister. Melt.

I'm writing these little moments as much to help myself remember in the tough times as anything. I want to soak up these moments, live in these moments and treasure them as the precious miracles they are. These moments also help me appreciate the personalities of each of my children, which is a blessing in and of itself. I thank God that He keeps giving me these little moments to get me through and remind me that there's always light in the dark places, I just need to keep my eyes open.

Perspective

I had one of those days yesterday when everything felt off. The kids were being fine, but I just didn't feel myself. Part of me recognized that this is just my body getting ready for labour which had me nervous, excited and slightly exhausted (already). After a day of feeling sorry for myself I was checking my twitter feed where I saw a blog being passed around by some people I followed. Often times Moms will retweet the blog postings of Moms in need of some encouragement. Usually these blogs are the product of post partum depression or just one of those days that we all have when we feel inadequate. I read them because I've felt overwhelmed in my life too and feel compelled to encourage these young, sleep-deprived Moms. We don't live in tight knit communities like we used to so the Internet is the new way to share, encourage, and vent. A simple status update on Facebook, tweet on Twitter, or blog post can remind us in seconds that we have a world wide community willing to encourage us and give us some much needed perspective.

But this blog was different. It was a young Mom in a situation I couldn't fathom: She's battling cancer. From what I could glean she's getting rigorous treatment that is making her feel worse than the cancer. Despite her painful and intense regimen she believes her cancer is spreading, growing. I was emotionally devastated to read this. While I complain about the pains caused by my growing miracle baby, she is bravely sharing the story of the death growing in her body, trying to steal her from her children. Perspective can be a harsh lesson. My gratitude grew instantaneously but also my desire to storm the gates of heaven with a prayer that wasn't for me. This complete stranger felt like a sister to me in that moment of desperate prayers. As I just yesterday prayed for my new baby to be safely separated from my body, I frantically prayed that this young mother would not be separated from her babies. Whatever His plans for this stranger, I am so thankful that her story pulled me out of my own selfishness yesterday. I hope I keep this perspective as long as I live. I am so blessed with my health and the good health of my children.