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More Mommy Talks (Part 3 of 4)

Again, in keeping with the Mother’s Day Week theme, here is another message I received after publishing this blog post:

Annie,

I love the thoughts you shared about being a stay at home mom. It’s scary how much I can relate to you! I have mom friends on both sides…some have dreamed of being a stay at home mom and others work full time & seem to manage it effortlessly. When I was younger I NEVER, ever, ever thought that being a mom would be my career. I studied hard to be an architect. I always did want to get married & have kids at some point. But I never thought AT ALL about how a career outside the home would balance with being a wife & mom. How could the logistics of this never have crossed my mind???

 

Right now, I am deciding whether to go back to work part-time or leave for a longer period of time. I thought I would be ready to work now that my baby is 8 months old and we are living near family. But this is still not easy for me at all!

 

I like accomplishments and good performance reviews and being able to see what I checked off my list at the end of the day. That rarely happens with my mommy life. But I don’t think my heart is ready to have a job outside the home yet. Many days are not a picnic and at times I feel like I am losing brain cells at a rapid rate, but I think I would miss out on too many important little things with my boys. It’s encouraging to know that other moms struggle with these same things.

And, my response:

These are such great thoughts!  You’re so right…no one ever warned us at our school that everything we were working toward would become VERY complicated once we started procreating!  I guess they assumed we would find out the hard way.

 

I just recently read the book “The Life Ready Woman” and it really clarified some things for me.  Through answering a lot of the study questions, I was able to really reflect on my goals and come up with a plan that neither sacrificed my dreams nor my role as a mother.  Maybe it will help you as you make this decision.

 

I would say that if your heart isn’t ready to leave home to work yet, then don’t! A lot of women would LOVE to stay home if they had the opportunity, and I try to remember them when I’m feeling discontent at home. I OFTEN REMIND MYSELF… I CAN ALWAYS GO BACK TO WORK. I CAN NEVER GET BACK THIS NEXT DECADE WITH MY SMALL CHILDREN.

What advice would you give her?

More Mommy Talks (Part 2 of 4)

This week in honor of Mother’s Day I want to post some more thoughts about motherhood.  The last blog post I wrote I think hit some kind of nerve.  Here is one message I received after writing it:

Annie,

Your blog post that you put up today was really good (as always). I have to admit, that in my incredibly selfish mind….those very feelings are what make me afraid to have children. I feel like at my job I am needed, appreciated, valued, and productive. Even though I have never LOVED my job and have always known that I would stop eventually, I fear not having those motivators on a regular basis.

 

Like..big time fear.

 

Almost to the point (and this is super embarrassing to admit) that I have made a list of things I want to do before I “lose my own life”! I have almost set myself up in my mind to feel like my life is over when I have kids. I know this all sounds very dramatic, and trust me….I pray that the Lord blesses us with kids and I know that I cannot possibly understand the joy of motherhood now, but I fear the thoughts you have expressed.  So, all this to ask for you to be praying for me as we move closer to that time in life. AND know…..I will be calling you someday! Thanks for being real and open! I’m glad I’m not alone!

 

After giving this a lot of thought, this is what I wrote back to her:

Hey there,

I know exactly where you’re at because I was once there.  It was as though I could hear a train in the distance and I knew it was coming…coming for me.   As it neared, I had many of the same thoughts you just expressed.  My job made me feel productive and being productive made me feel like a valuable, significant human being.  What would happen if that was stripped away from me?  Again, it was as though I could hear the whistle blowing louder and it only made me fear what was coming more.

Ultimately, the train arrived (so to speak), I got pregnant, and I eventually quit my job so I could stay home to take care of my baby.  I was stripped of many of the things I had been clinging to for significance and value:  accomplishment, productivity, and people’s applause and appreciation.  In keeping with the analogy, it was pretty much a train wreck (sorry if this is getting cheesy).  I came to realize that it’s dangerous to look to ANYTHING besides Christ for significance.  Those things can quickly become idols and…in my experience, God will frustrate our idols in order to purify our worship of Him.

The book Search for Significance has really helped me with my “significance issues” as it explores different things we depend on to give us worth.  Anyway, I WILL be praying for you in this area…and just so you know, I have in no way arrived.  It’s a daily struggle to rely on who I am in Christ for my sense of purpose in life.  So, I guess we’ll be on this road..or should I say train tracks…together and can encourage each other to look to Jesus alone for everything and nothing else!

 

How would YOU have responded?

Our Latest News…

Comments from the Ultrasound room:

Darcy (trying to decipher the gender on the screen)- “Is that a Ba-Gina?”

Annie (whispering to Colby)- “I’m SO SORRY….but if you think about it, Darcy is kind of like a boy...” (Colby’s response: “That’s absolutely ridiculous. Please stop talking.”)

Annie- “What are the Chances? WHAT are the CHANCES?! I mean…WHAT. ARE. THE. CHANCES?!”

Colby- “The chances are 1 in 2.”

Haley-  “God answered my prayer.  I can’ t believe God answered my prayer!”

Ultrasound Technician- “I see a healthy, four chambered heart.  How does that sound?”

2011 Scrapbook

So, in case you haven’t heard, I am pretty cheap.  I love to scrapbook and record our memories, but I don’t like how pricey it can get.  Solution:  make scrapbooks online and share them here, but never pay money to actually purchase a hard copy of them.  My only hope now?  That the internet doesn’t crash.

Click Here for the Life and Times of the Garmans: 2011 Scrapbook!

When I grow up (Part 1 of 4)

My oldest girl was asked recently what she wanted to be when she grew up.   After thinking for a moment, she gave a deep, agonizing sigh and cautiously answered, “Well…I want to be an astronaut.  But, I keep wondering…what will my kids do when I’m in space? So, I don’t really know how to answer your question.”

I tried to comfort my six year old as she wrestled with the dilemma of whether or not to pursue a career outside the home and thought about how I had answered that same question when I was her age.  Inspired by Angelina the Ballerina, I know I had naively had said dancer,  eventually changed my career aspirations to marine biologist, then at age twelve finally settled on photo-journalist for National Geographic.

Now that I come to think of it, I don’t think stay-at-home MOM was on the list of viable career options that I had been presented.

No wonder I felt so de-valued and disillusioned when, at a young age, I quit my ESL job at an elementary school to stay at home with my new baby…I had been told my whole life that MOTHERHOOD WASN’T REALLY A JOB.   It was the weirdest feeling on earth to wake up in the morning and not go to school (I had done that every year of my life since 1985).

I felt like I had retired.

At age twenty-four.

I flailed and I flailed hard. Why hadn’t anyone warned me about this?  I wanted to get a part-time job as a waitress, not necessarily because we needed more income, but because I wanted to have somewhere to go during the day besides the grocery store and someone to talk to besides a non-responsive infant.  What was this new life I had found myself suddenly in?  Could I really be content at home, when every day felt like Groundhog’s Day?

Of course, my job as a stay-at-home mom has evolved since only having one baby and eventually I found a MOMS club (Thank you, LORD, for providing Mommy friends!), but different shades of discontentment with my current “career” has been something I’ve struggled with at almost every turn.  

Recently a close friend had another baby and she is now staying home with her two small children.  We talked on the phone the other day and I thought her summary statement in response to “So…how’s it goin?…” was very insightful:

“I guess I just really miss putting on lipstick and high heels in the morning and going somewhere.”

Not that I ever wore stilettos to my past job, but I could still relate to her angst over wanting to feel that I had accomplished more than just FEEDING myself and my family that day.  Being a stay-at-home-mom is not for the accomplishment addict.  THAT I have learned.

We kept talking and reminding each other…that this was just a SEASON of life and that someday it would end and we would miss it.

…That what we do every day is important even though it feels as worn as the dirty socks we’re constantly finding stuffed under our stained couches.

…That, although it FEELS like we’re in a hamster wheel, circling the same circle every day, we’re actually in a SLINKY, winding up and around (although rather dizzying and disorienting), riding this cycle of change.

…That we need to re-define productivity…or rather…just begin to believe that reading books and taking our kids to the playground and feeding them and loving them and taking them on slow (and I mean REALLY slow) walks and investing in their lives… is the definition of genuine productivity.

I’m not sure if my daughter will ever sail with the stars or if NASA will even receive any government funding by then.  I do know that if she decides to hang up her astronaut suit for a few years….or a few decades….while she rocks my grandchildren and teaches them about their Creator….she will never, and I do mean never, regret it.
Seven years later, as I learn to do this job that I never was trained in all my years of education to do, I still wrestle with cultural expectations, job satisfaction,  and a sense of significance.  I can blame my past and blame my culture, but ultimately I’m trying to go forward with what I’ve got.  Recently I saw a quote on a blog that has stuck with me in a surprisingly powerful way.

Maybe you’ve heard it before and have been WONDERING when I would finally get this, but for the rest of us, perhaps you can relate.

I can choose to be dissatisfied with my current job and let my grass turn crusty brown or EMBRACE the fact that I stay at home and nurture the ones I love most.

I haven’t always made the right choice, but it’s never too late to start.

“My Dream Came True…”

This winter Haley and Darcy were severely disappointed with the lack of snow in Northern Virginia.

Especially Darcy.

Week after week they would ask me, “Is THIS winter?!” and I would have to remind them that yes, in fact, this warm season was all the winter they would be getting.  One morning Darcy shared with me that she had wished for pink snow the previous night and had a dream it came true.  I laughed and told her that the only time she would ever see PINK SNOW was in her dreams. 

This week’s weather was magical.  The cherry blossom tree in the front of our townhouse was in peak bloom and a steady rain of pink petals floated from it for two days straight.  The girls wanted to make snow angels in the fallen petals and I couldn’t think of any good reason to withhold that from them.  For an entire afternoon, most of the neighborhood was in our front yard shoveling pink petals to make “snowmen” and towers and every possible creative thing you could imagine.  It was better than any snow day I had ever experienced.

I got in the fun with my new camera lens and felt like the whole day was a sweet gift reminding me of all the beauty in a world that sometimes can make me forgetful. At one point Darcy paused beside me, put down her broom/shovel and just looked up at the scene in awe.  “My dream came true,” she said as though she had just been waiting for this moment to come to pass.  I looked down at her, not sure what she was talking about, and then suddenly remembered our conversation from a few months ago.

I shook my head and smiled at her determined imagination.  Her ability to see things others miss.  I tucked a stray curl behind her ear and stroked her face that was warm with the sunlight.  “I guess mommy was wrong, huh?  Your dream did come true.”  She loves it when she’s right and I’m wrong.  Loves it a little too much.  She smiled big and skipped off to shovel more of her warm snow baking in the afternoon sun.

Cherry Blossoms with Cousins!

We Have an Announcement to Make….

I WOULD call it the immaculate conception, but my husband thinks that’s both naive and sacrilegious…so I won’t.

Back in January, I decided to go to Urgent Care to get some antibiotics.  I had been sick for weeks and assumed I had some kind of vicious bacteria growing inside of me.  I thought I would stop by Rite Aid on my way and get a pregnancy test so that when the doctors asked if I was by any chance pregnant, I could confidently present to them my answer and get on the strongest medicine they had.

Someone had just gotten sick in the women’s bathroom, so I locked myself in the men’s bathroom to quickly pee on the stick.  Every other time that I’ve done this, I’ve shaken with anticipation, but this time I didn’t think it was  a possibility, so I didn’t even think about it.  Within seconds it said that I was pregnant.  My first thought was, “Darn you, Annie…you’re so cheap!”  I had bought the generic pregnancy test and the only logical explanation I could come up with was that the test was wrong.

I was in the bathroom over fifteen minutes, just looking in the mirror repeating, “This cannot be real.”  I hadn’t even slept in the same bed as my husband for over two weeks.  How was this biologically possible?  How could we fit another child in our car?  In our townhouse? In our budget?  In our busy schedule?

I’m not sure how many full-bladder-ed men heard whimpering and shouting coming from the bathroom door that morning, but eventually–after going through every possible emotion– I gathered my wits enough to exit Rite Aid.

It was then time for absolute and total panic.  WE WERE ABOUT TO HAVE ANOTHER BABY….and we hadn’t even taken down our Christmas tree yet!  It was as though the baby was coming out in the next four hours….I rushed to the post office, sent my brother his late Christmas present, hurried to the DMV to put my new address on my license, ran home, washed everyone’s sheets and bedroom windows, and frantically took down the Christmas tree.

I finished my tirade and collapsed on the couch.  I felt only slightly more prepared.

When I told Colby the news, he didn’t seem to be shaken up at all.  He was only excited and trusting.  One by one, I presented to him the reasons we were doomed, and each one he met with, “It will be okay;  God will provide.”  The last two months have been a blur of nausea and exhaustion, but I’m coming out of the worst of it now.  Some days I feel like I’m just trying to survive;  other days I have enough strength to actually work out and get groceries.  All in all, we are very excited for the newest Garman (we might as well refer to it as 4G for now) to arrive and be a part of our family.

When my mom came to visit in February, I decorated my tummy with the announcement and told her to close her eyes because we had a present for her.  Below is the video of my mom hearing the news of her 4th grandchild.  If you know my mother, Helen Haley, you know that her reaction was exactly as it should have been.

  Click here to watch “The Big Announcement“

It’s Nonny Time!

I am a Heart Mom

I am a heart mom.

I have felt, at a twenty-week ultrasound,  floorboards cracking and giving way under my jumping, celebrating feet as the words  Congratulations, it’s a girl were chased away all too quickly with There is something wrong with your baby’s heart.

I know the torment of wondering, wrestling, and combating a viscous voice that whispers…This is all my fault…

I know the pain of weeping in my husband’s arms after a baby shower, unsure if my baby would ever wear her new, pink clothes.

I am a heart mom.

I know the fear of labor pains in a cold room, deep groanings of the unknown drawing near.

I have given birth for an audience of twenty doctors in a room quiet and solemn.

I have watched my baby–still wet and fresh–plucked from my arms and ushered to a Neonatal Intensive Care Unit where she would be sustained.

I have sat in a NICU with brittle, four-pound lives, warm under heat lamps like delicate plants, praying over my baby.

I have guarded my heart, afraid to love something I wasn’t so sure I could keep.

I am a heart mom.

I have held a baby with cords and wires and A-lines and tubes and all the while held my breath and my heart so it wouldn’t scrape.

I have pumped my milk throughout the night, throughout the day, in bathroom stalls, in parking lots, in dressing rooms, in public, in private, in the heat, in the cold…wishing I could give more than all that I had.

I have said goodbye to a daughter I just met so she could be delivered to a doctor who would stop her heart…in an attempt to make it whole.

I have endured waiting rooms painted white like faces bleached with fear.

A stomach that is so nervous it feels poisonous.

The shaking.  The waiting.  The surgery you can’t be there to control.

I am a heart mom.

I have felt the hand of a fighting life grab my finger and hold it…asking silently for me to lead her.

I have spent days that turn into nights on the seventh floor, all around me the Intensive Care Unit beeping and humming and pumping and upholding.

I have heard those sounds in my dreams.

I have sat in numb confusion while my baby lived…and the baby on the other side of the curtain didn’t.

I have brought a baby home–so vulnerable and trusting–with a pulse-ox machine never far and CPR training notes posted high on the bulletin board.

I have sanitized people head to toe before letting them enter my home, missed Christmas parties, dinner parties, and birthday parties because someone in attendance had sneezed, and have accosted strangers attempting to squeeze my baby’s little cheeks.

I have nurtured a bruised baby with scars in vulnerable places.

I have awoken in the middle of the night to the frantic words, “I’m taking her to the Emergency Room.”

I have watched her heal and witnessed the miracle of recovery.

I have fed her her first bites of food.

Watched her take her first steps.

Say her first words.

I have seen the power of prayer.

I am a heart mom.

And my world will never be the same.