Weakness

You're so brave. You're so strong.

Oh, friends. Am I really putting on that good of a show? I guess I may have moments of strength, but most of the time I feel incredibly weak. Were I not propped up by my faith and my husband, I'd be a wallowing mess of tears and misery. Don't let my words in those moments of strength fool you.

One of the vocabulary words for my high intermediate ELL class last month was "endurance." In easily understandable English, a simple definition they came up with for "endurance" was "not stopping, even when things are hard." I feel like life has been an exercise in endurance the last two months.

Days aren't so bad. I've never been so thankful to have a job. Even the two boys who are total stinkers are a blessing in disguise. I'm so busy and distracted at school that I don't have a lot of time to think about what's going on with Maren. When I get done with work, I've got about three hours to squeeze in all the time with James I can get, so that's a busy, no-time-to-think time, too. Then there's laundry, cleaning, conversations with the hubs . . . I can stay distracted 'til about 9pm.

But the nights. They're the worst. I can't tell you how many nights I've cried myself to sleep. Sometimes I can keep it quiet. Sometimes it's so loud Kevin hears me from the living room and comes in to hold me. Saturday night was one of those really bad nights. I couldn't seem to stop. At one point, between sobs, I choked out, "Why us?" After a while, between more sobs, I apologized to Kevin for not being the same woman he married three and a half years ago; besides feeling so much grief for Maren, I'm also feeling afraid that this will change who I am as a person and a wife and he won't see me the same way he used to. I cried so long and so hard I woke up with a headache Sunday morning.

Later that morning in church, I was thinking about my great-aunts who lost multiple babies. I thought of my friend's grandma who told her they never had baby showers before babies were born, because babies were as likely to die as to live. I realized that modern medicine has made us forget how fragile life is, and how not too long ago a lot of babies died. How did those women get through it? I wish those great aunts were still around to coach me through this.

I looked at James that afternoon and again asked "Why us?" . . . but this time I was thinking how blessed we are to have one healthy, happy child . . . what an undeserved gift he is . . . what a miracle it is that we created this adorable little boy.

So, no. I don't feel particularly brave or strong. But I still feel blessed.