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Being brave and afraid and letting go

I mentioned in a previous post (Bacon Pancakes) that my MOPS group has a special meeting every spring called Tea and Testimony. It’s a chance for ladies to get up in front of the group and either give a testimony of their lives, or just give an inspirational speech, or whatever.

In my second year of MOPS, the theme for the year was about bravery. “Be you, bravely.”

The following is the speech I gave.  And it was terrifying.

This year we’ve been talking about being brave.  I thought a lot about what I wanted to talk about today.

Should I talk about all the times I’ve been brave? No. That would only take one minute. I could probably count the number of times I’ve been brave on one hand.  I figured I should speak for more than one minute.

I decided I needed to know exactly what “brave” means before I could talk about it…in front of people…who are staring at me…

So I looked it up.  It means bold, daring, heroic, or fearless.  … someone who is brave possesses or exhibits courage.

So I looked up courage…

Courage means “the quality of mind or spirit that enables a person to face difficulty, danger, pain, without fear.” Now, I’m no dictionaryologist (is that a word?), but I have a problem with that definition.

Brave being synonymous with fearless doesn’t really work for me. There are times I’ve experienced bravery, but still was afraid.  I believe people can be afraid and at the same time be brave.

When I was 21, I flew on an airplane (for the very first time in my life) to South Korea.  I was going to be there for a whole year.  I didn’t go with family; I didn’t go with friends.  I went alone. To teach English to school kids.  I think going to Korea was brave. A new country, culture, a new job.  That takes bravery.  But I was still afraid.  I was afraid the plane would crash.  I was afraid a seagull would fly into the engine and we would fall to the bottom of the ocean.

I was afraid that once I got there, they wouldn’t want me to teach anymore, and they wouldn’t pay for me to come back home.  So I would be stuck walking home. … yes, I would have to walk home. From South Korea.

My plan was I would have to sneak across the border into the North.  If the North Koreans didn’t capture and torture me, I would continue north, and find the Pacific Ocean.  I would just follow the coast up through China, Russia, until I got to that part where Russia and Alaska almost touch.  Surely I could swim across the Bering Straight! I could swim 51 miles in freezing water, no problem.  I would have to.  That was the best way to walk/swim home.  Once I got into Alaska, I would be safe.  I could hitchhike to a city and call my family and then they could come get me or buy me a plane ticket home. The delusions of a paranoid schizophrenic are very interesting…

None of that happened of course.  I made it to South Korea just fine.  And they wanted to keep me there to teach.

Although, after a few days of teaching, I told myself, “I can’t do this.  When Mr. Lee picks me up for church, I’ll tell him I have to go home.”  Well, when Mr. Lee picked me up, I was too chicken to tell him.

I learned how to be brave.  Every day for a year, I taught english to people. At church, at school, when I walked around the neighborhood.   I ended up having a really good time, and I was so glad I went and that I stayed! And I was so super excited that I didn’t have to walk home from Korea. I was so happy that I didn’t have to swim across the Bering Straight.

While I was in Korea my mom was diagnosed with oropharyngeal cancer. Before I got home, she had gone through a successful treatment.  The cancer was gone.  I can’t imagine what she had experienced.  She was definitely brave—going through several procedures to prepare her for radiation therapy and chemotherapy.  A feeding tube, a port, a tracheotomy, having all of her teeth pulled out.

I’ll fast forward several years.  When Evie was younger she had a lot of ear infections, not unlike what many children go through.  She had tubes put in.  After we moved to San Antonio, she started failing hearing tests.  After her third failed test, the doctor recommended having a more complete and accurate test done at the hospital.  After that test was performed, the doctor said everything was normal.  The reason she was having hearing issues was because one of the tubes had fallen out, and there were pressure issues.

The point of this story, though, is not Evie’s ear issues.  Before she started failing the tests, we were learning sign language.  As we discovered she was failing the hearing tests, we continued and studied even more.  We wanted to get her in a sign language class with other children learning it.  There was only one teacher in this area and she had a huge waiting list.

I had the opportunity to become a teacher, so I took it.  And now I’m certified to teach children sign language.

It’s weird because I’m afraid of talking in front of people.  I guess I had some teaching experience from my time in Korea, but I still was terrified.  I HATE talking in front of people.  Like I’m doing right now! I’m so scared right now to be talking in front of you! But when they asked for people to volunteer to speak today, I knew I needed to do it.  I don’t know if you’ll even get anything out of this, it’s just something I felt like i needed to do.

I don’t feel brave.  Ever.  I want people to think I’m brave. I want to look brave and act brave, but I’m really not.

I’d like to go back to the story of my mom.  And I’ll tell you one more example of how I’ve truly been brave in my life.  After her cancer came back, she couldn’t go through any more treatments.  I don’t know the reasoning behind this.  I went to my parents’ house one day to visit, and my mom couldn’t talk at all.  She could barely breathe.  She couldn’t get up to use the restroom, so they had her on a seat where she could just go.

I visited for a few hours, and then I went back to my house, an hour away.  I had to work the next day.  I felt like a coward for not staying there, for not skipping work to be with my mom in her final days.  When I got home that night, I prayed a simple, but brave (at least I think it’s brave) prayer.   This was my prayer:

God, I love my mom.  I want her to get better. I don’t want her to die. I know you have a different plan, though.  I don’t want her to suffer anymore.  Will you please take her home so she will feel better, and not be in pain? Please make her die. She’s in so much pain, and I want her to feel better, and you’re the only one who can help her.  Please take her home.

Two days later, my mom died.  The bravest thing I’ve ever done in my life was telling God to make my mom die. To let go of my mom.

It didn’t feel brave. I was terrified. To live the rest of my life without my mom. I needed her. And I still need her.  I do believe it was brave, but I was afraid. Afraid to spend the rest of my life without my mom.

So, going back to that definition of bravery, or courage: “the quality of mind or spirit that enables a person to face difficulty, danger, pain, without fear.”

I think the part that says “without fear” should be removed.

 

Oh, and I definitely belong in Gryffindor!

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The Parent in Heaven Talk

So now that Mother’s Day is over and the focus will soon turn to fathers, I’d like to take a moment to talk about what happened in our house a couple weeks ago. We were sitting at the table working on cards to mail to all the mothers in our lives. We made one for Mister Face’s grandma, his mom, and my step-mom. As I wrote the names and addresses on each envelope, E4 would talk about who each person was. When we got to my step-mom’s card, I told her it was for Grandma.

E4 asked me, “Are Grandma and Grandpa Sir your mom and dad?”

I explained to her that Grandpa Sir is my dad, but Grandma is my step-mom, not my real mom.

So, she asked who my mom is.

I knew the day would come. I knew someday I’d have to sit down with my children and talk to them about my mom. And no matter how many times I’d rehearsed what I would say, I wasn’t prepared. I practiced my speech over and over in my head. I practiced not crying. I knew what to say. But when the time came, I was paralyzed. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t hold back the tears.

So…after a few seconds (which really lasted about 10 years), I told E4 that my mom is in heaven with Jesus.

E4: Why? (Classic 4 year old…)

Me: Well, she got sick.

E4: And she died?

Me: Yeah.

And that was enough for her. We spent the next 30 minutes or so looking at pictures of my mom on my computer (because E4 looks exactly like my mom!)  I know I’m not off the hook for talking to my kids about my mom. I know E4 will want to know more. And then, when the twins start getting curious about family, I’ll tell them too. Maybe next time I’ll be better prepared? Probably not.

So, about my mom: she was pretty incredible! She raised 4 kids and didn’t go insane! Some days I wonder how she did it. I find myself needing and wanting to talk to her more and more every day. There are so many things I need to ask her about raising kids. Sometimes I feel alone in this because she’s not here. I mean, I KNOW I’m not alone! I have Mister Face, my dad, my mother-in-law, etc. I know I can ask them things and I respect everything they tell me, but it’s just not the same as talking with my mom. I know if she were still alive she probably would have moved in with us by now just so she could be here with these crazy kids all the time. She would just love these 3 kids, and I know someday she’ll get to meet them.

I don’t know if how I approached the very short conversation with E4 was the best, but it worked for now. It was easy enough for her to understand. But, now that I’ve done it once, maybe next time will be a little easier. Yeah right.

Don’t worry, Dad! You’ll get your very own blog post—2 weeks AFTER Father’s Day.

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When you think you have nothing left

I remember the night well—even though you’d think I wouldn’t since we’d just gotten home with 2 newborns straight from the hospital, and I was exhausted beyond all reason.

I fell down into bed, and said “Can you feed them? I need to get some sleep or I’m gonna get sick. I have nothing left.”

Two hours later I woke up in terrible pain and was having recurring fevers and chills. I knew exactly what it meant, since the same thing happened after E4 was born, only not as severe. I had some weird infection. I called my doctor’s office knowing what they would tell me (go to the ER), but I hoped they would say something different, I guess.  We woke up my (amazing) mother-in-law and asked her to take care of the babies during the night, and my husband (Mister Face) drove me to the ER at midnight.

I was tired and I just wanted to sleep. I wanted to sleep for a year. I said I’d had nothing left but the universe said, “Oh yeah? Take this!” I had a bad cellulitis infection above my c-section site. It was a serious kind of infection that caused me to be hospitalized for another week. We’d just gotten home from the hospital with the babies, and here I was, back in the most uncomfortable hospital room that had the worst lighting—the kind to cause migraines…

Luckily they put me back in postpartum and the babies (and E4) were allowed to come in and stay. My mother-in-law was up there too and I’m so glad she was there to help.

The point of this story is really that even when you think you’re too tired to keep going, you have nothing left…you find out that you do! Sure, you’re still tired, but you always have something to give. You always will find a way to take care of your kids. You always have something. It may be very little, but it’s there.

Moms, we’re tired. The kids don’t sleep well, they’re sick, you’re sick, you have a migraine (but not anymore! See my previous post about the Daith piercing!!), your back hurts… But somehow we find the energy to keep going. We get those kids dressed, we keep their butts clean and dry, we wipe the vomit off our shirts and we go!

Over the past year this has really hit me hard. I’ve struggled with feeling bad about how I parent these 3 crazy pants kids. I think I’m not good enough, that I don’t do enough with them. (Will my almost kindergartener ever learn to read?) But I have to slow my brain down, stop thinking that I’m not enough, and remember that my kids need me to be who I am right now. I’m exactly the mom they want and need. And that’s enough. And when I say I have nothing left, it’s just not true.