Category: Family

Mommy Is Wonder Woman

December 9, 2017

“I’ll be Supergirl. Cady will be Batgirl. Baby will be Destroy Baby. Daddy will be Superman. And you’ll be Wonder Woman.” My 4 year old has recited this tale since she was not quite 3. She creates scenarios of her superhero family fighting the bad guys and helping each other. I find her name for me endearing and chuckle when I hear it. I don’t think of myself as fitting the Wonder Woman type. A mighty superhero would not come to mind if you met me. I’ve never been athletic, I’m kind of petite, and I’m quite the nerd. I don’t even consider myself to be a supermom. I’m not an overachiever, I’m never ready for a selfie, and my house is always a little messy. Supermom status is not something I’ll ever achieve nor is it something I covet. And here I was preparing to have my third surgery. It was something I was hoping not to have and was not on my Christmas list. I’ve had surgery after every baby simply because of the strain that pregnancy does to my body. Who else does this happen to? Certainly not Wonder Woman. I had known there was risk of surgery if I had a third baby but chose to anyway. Who does that? Quite possibly a mad woman.

As disappointed as I was, I started to focus on the reality that I couldn’t change it and wouldn’t change it. I had three beautiful babies that were worth every second of discomfort and pain. I would give my life for them, and I would make those choices again without hesitation. Sometimes, in life, we can’t choose our path, but we can choose how to walk it. I had to prepare for the worst and pray for the best. I began asking around for help during my recovery, completed much of our Christmas shopping, and went to town cleaning my house. I could be down for at least 2 weeks. My thought “of course this would happen” began to transform to “I can handle a week of complete misery. I’ve done it before.” My doctor informed me that my surgery could quite possibly be more invasive than the other two and that I may be out of work longer than before. That didn’t stop me from asking God for an easy surgery and fast recovery. Here’s to hoping for the best.

On the morning of my surgery, my 4 year old began to cry and asked to come along. She also asked if I would be ok. I knelt down and hugged her and said “Mommy is going to be fine. Remember? I’m Wonder Woman”. I had never called myself Wonder Woman, but in that moment I believed I was. No matter what I was facing, her mom was going to handle it.

At the hospital, I surprisingly felt very calm and peaceful. I joked around with the nurses about asking my doctor to throw in a tummy tuck, liposuction, and a boob lift. With my IV in and waiting to be wheeled in, I declared with a smile on my face “I’m ready”.

Moments later, I struggled to wake up and asked my husband what happened. I was anxious to hear how big the incisions were and how much extra time I would have to take off of work. He simply said, “you had the best case scenario.” I had a minimally invasive surgery, and my prognosis was a very quick recovery time. My doctor jokingly said it was a Christmas miracle. But for a mom, it was no joke. Sometimes, you get what you pray for, sometimes, you get what you fear, and sometimes, you get a strange mix of the two. I have the 10 scars to prove that.

So, when life throws some good punches, will I be Whiney Woman and feel badly for myself or will I be Wonder Woman and face the challenge, even with tears in my eyes? Will I believe in myself or believe my fear? We mothers are amazing. We can do things no one else can. We are superheroes in our children’s eyes. We can take away pain and fear. We bring life and magic. We give everything we have willingly. So, I may not be Wonder Woman to anyone else but to my 4 year old. And I’ll gladly live that role.

Grandpa Will Fix It

November 26, 2017

“Grandpa will fix it”, my 3 year old replied anytime something broke down. My dad can fix almost anything and has never been afraid to try to fix something new. Nothing stops him from trying, even if he has to do a little research and make a few attempts to succeed. The bravest thing I’ve ever seen him try to fix is his drinking. My dad began drinking at a young age. By the time he married my mom, he was an alcoholic. He did the things addicts did like saying and doing hurtful things, making excuses for his drinking, shifting blame, and lying. We would give him the message that we didn’t approve. Once, a can of beer got knocked over on accident, spilling beer on the carpet. My brother replied, honestly but humorously, “it wouldn’t have spilled if you weren’t drinking”. My dad even chuckled. He knew it was true. He was a good person, had a great job, was active in our church, loved God, and he loved us. I have amazing memories with my dad when I was a kid. But he had a problem, and his brain, processing alcohol differently than most, wouldn’t quit telling him to drink more. And more. He attempted leaving alcohol for good, and his sobriety would have a good run for a couple of months. But, then, small hands and small eyes would usually find the evidence. “But if I don’t say anything, maybe it won’t be true”, reasoned an innocent and hopeful heart. For my dad and his attempt at sobriety, there was more than one failed attempt. And our hearts grew sick.

Then, one day, he quit one final time. It was a day that seemed to come out of nowhere. We didn’t know then that it was the final time. But God knew. He poured out all of the beer into a bucket in his favorite drinking place: the garage. He was going to show my mom and make a declaration of a promise. On his way, he tripped and spilled the beer on himself. There was spilled beer again, but this time it came with tears of joy and amends. So, when he tried talking with her, she thought he was drunk. That was the rough beginning of his sobriety.

Recovery requires admitting your problem is bigger than you but not bigger than God. It involves taking an honest look at yourself and making amends. Rebuilding hope and rebuilding trust. It takes courage, transparency, risk, humility, and grace. Recovery is a lifelong battle but a daily choice. It doesn’t come easy, and it can take years to rebuild the things that were damaged. And sometimes you have to build a whole new thing. Pour a new foundation. It took a long time for my parents to learn how to be married as husband and wife instead of alcoholic and enabler. For us to have a dad that was connected and dependable. But my dad, no matter how difficult it was, never gave up. No, not this time. His run of sobriety has lasted 25 years and counting. He’s into repairing things now. He’s the handy man, the problem solver. He’s the one I call when I need strong, solid advice. And he’s dependable to answer. He continues to be transformed by his Heavenly Father to be more like Him. And when I hear my kids say, “Grandpa will fix it”, I hear a truth that is bigger than they realize. I hear that they confidently and without a doubt trust him with his word. No questions asked. When Grandpa says he will do something, he means it. And the father’s word is everything.