Samuel

Sometimes there are things going on in your life that are so deeply personal, that you hesitate to write about them… Those things where you literally pray to God “I do not understand how you could have let this happen” My pastor and friend, when I’ve expressed these feelings, always reassures me by telling me “He can handle it,” and somehow I don’t feel like as bad of a Christian for having these thoughts and/or negotiations with God.

When I found out Jay and I were pregnant, it clearly wasn’t planned. In fact, we were taking measures to prevent pregnancy. So much for 99% effectiveness..I feel like I should wear some sort of name tag that identifies me as the poster child for 1%. Regardless, we struggled with it, prayed about it and as the weeks went on realized what an amazing blessing it was. I think I was still in the process of “accepting” my own pregnancy when my brother called. I was drying Cole off after his bath… “Ash? Guess what…” My brother Chris and his wife Rachel were expecting as well. I screamed with delight.. and immediately told Cole about Uncle Chwis and Aunt Rawchel’s baby before I’d even told him of my own. He was delighted. The weeks went on and I found myself more and more excited that our kids would literally be a month a part in age, with me delivering first.

I received a call from my mother one early Monday morning. Rachel was in the hospital. Her water had broken at 17 weeks. They’d admitted her. Things didn’t look good. The family gathered around them. There was still a strong heartbeat. Our little Drury Baby was hanging on.

After several days, Rachel was sent home and put on bed rest. Weekly appointments with her doctor revealed there was no measurable amniotic fluid, but always a strong steady heart rate. Weeks passed. After the first of the year, at 24 weeks Rachel was admitted to the hospital where she’ll remain until they deliver the baby at 34 weeks at the end of March. There has never been much amniotic fluid, which is crucial for organ development, but most importantly the baby’s lungs. Without amniotic fluid, you can’t really determine the baby’s sex, but the doctors are more and more confident it’s a boy.. A boy to carry on the Drury name as my brother is the last male Drury. No pressure little guy.

Chris and Rachel

My best friend recently helped Chris and Rachel buy their first home by acting as their agent. She immediately dubbed them the “sweetest couple ever” and questioned me about why I wasn’t just as sweet. I affectionately call them the “do gooders” because they have both dedicated their careers to the education/development of children. My brother a junior high English Teacher and Rachel is a Camp Director for the YMCA. They are naturals when it comes to kids and both have looked forward to starting their own family.

I’ve been amazed as I’ve watched them deal with this. Their quiet strength, their Faith, their prayer together for a positive outcome and all of the waiting that comes as the doctors run every imaginable test to determine if your child is going to make it. There’s always been a steady heartbeat and as such Chris and Rachel’s stance has been clear: we won’t give up. My brother’s Faith developed at a much younger age than my own. While I was still questioning, he had already accepted it… But I’m continually humbled at his strength as a husband and father already.

This past Sunday, my Pastor’s sermon hit home. In it he basically said, that often times in a spiritual journey there is a space of non answer and that’s the space in which God creates Faith.. Faith does not mean having answers, it means being willing to live without them…Faith is having the security to be insecure…As my family waits for answers, I found myself comforted.

So to all four of my blog followers: Please pray for Chris, Rachel and their baby. Pray for comfort. Pray for the security to be insecure.

Update: As I wrote this blog on 2/21/11, Samuel was contemplating his arrival. At 2:43am on February 24, 2011 Samuel Jon Drury made his entrance weighing in at 3lbs 15 oz. He remains in the NICU and he’s a fighter…completely worthy of his namesake. He’s doing as well as can be expected and the staff has to keep him sedated. If not, he’s trying to pull the many tubes from his tiny body. God willing, Sam will meet his cousin in the nursery as I’m set to deliver at the same hospital in just a few weeks.

Holla.

Confessions of A Step Mother

Here’s what I’m going to say about being a step mother after muddling thru almost a year of this complicated "title" and it’s brutally, brutally honest: It isn’t for wimps, and don’t embark on this journey without a licensed professional keeping you in check and lots of Mommy Juice. OK so I’m slightly kidding on the licensed professional thing…slightly.

When Jay and I started dating Hudson was 5 and Abigail was almost 7. We didn’t date in front of the kids… we would occasionally get together for a zoo outing or chuck e cheese or the like with all three kids. We didn’t show affection, or make any declarations of a “relationship” to any of the kids. When things became more serious, I started seeing the kids twice a month or so for a movie date and that was the extent of it. Once we became engaged I usually saw them every Saturday that they were with their Dad and we’d try to plan fun excursions for them.

Someone once told me that if you marry someone with kids, you immediately have to love their children, but I think they are completely wrong and you put all kinds of ridiculous pressure on the kids, yourself, and the relationship to feel this compelling love for someone else’s children. It just doesn’t happen overnight and I’ve learned not to beat myself up over it. Do I love my step children and want the best for them? Absolutely. Do they have a deep rooted bond with me? Absolutely not. Do I think they love me? A little. Will it come? Only time will tell, but if it doesn’t, that can’t define me… and as a woman, a mother, someone genetically predisposed to be able to bond with children, it took me a long time to get there and I still have to remind myself of it every day.

Eb and Flow

If you’re a mother, think of all the disgusting parts of your day to day existence when you have kids. Let’s be real: you change diapers, you exist with spit up on your clothes, you nurse them when they are sick, console them when they are sad, clean up all of their nasty messes, scrub stains from their undies, occasionally you venture to the back seat of your car where there is no telling what sort of science experiment you will find and ask youself: What the Hell??? You deal with their moods, their temperament, and their bad days. You celebrate their small victories and offer up lots of hugs and unconditional love. You bath them, you battle to feed them something nutritious, you tuck them in, pray with them, fall into bed exhausted and get up in the morning just to do it all again. You do this in conjunction with trying to teach them manners, respect, doling out necessary discipline, and trying oh so hard to shape them into functioning adults. You do this in conjunction with working at a job you hate because it pays the bills and provides security. And if you’re a mother, you know exactly why you do all of this: because you can’t imagine loving anyone more than you love your kids. I think God gives us children so we can begin to fathom the unconditional love and grace He shines down on us mere humans. Their happiness becomes your happiness and at the end of the day nothing makes me feel better than my son’s blind adoration. At some point it won’t be there, but for now it is and that in and of itself makes all of the crap you deal with daily and all of the inner demons you battle worth it. When he says “Mommy I love you…” for no reason at all, that gives me the courage to get up and do it all again tomorrow and look for the best possible stain removers on the market.

Now imagine doing it for kids that have no blind adoration for you what so ever… none. In fact, after you’ve done their laundry, packed their lunch, entertained their friends, searched 10+ stores for jeans to fit them, cleaned their room and made them their favorite meal, they will want to call their Mom at the end of the day when it’s time to go to sleep and you have served your purpose. You kept their world turning for the day and while you’ve blindly done it because it’s what you would do for your own kids, you walk away feeling used, unappreciated, and exhausted. Stepmother: it ain’t for wimps.

Please don’t misunderstand me, I never ever, for any reason, will try to take the place of their own mother. It’s not my intent,my place, nor do I want the full time role. There are years there that I wasn’t present for and a biological bond. They most certainly didn’t choose me, and I completely respect that. But it’s terribly hard not to take the act of being a “mother figure” without being a “mother” in stride at times. The thing I hear over and over again, that makes me want to scream: you can’t take it personally. How the heck can you not? Before you start in on telling me that I’m the adult and it’s not the kids’ responsibility to validate me emotionally- I couldn’t agree more.

I'll talk more on this evolving relationship with the new direction of my blog. For those of you reading this thinking I’m whining or complaining. Stick with me. That’s not my intent. My intent is to lay the ground work for talking about what I call the small miracles along the way…and when you’re blending a family you have to look for the small miracles daily. Otherwise you’ll loose your mind..and mommy juice isn't an option for me right now..

Holla!