My marriage to Eric has taught me many things, like how to be selfless, and trust that your needs will be met by each other. But the biggest thing it has taught me is how to never settle for less than you deserve.
My husband is wonderful. He really is. Everyday, we kiss good morning and good night, hello and good bye, he is constantly telling me how beautiful he thinks I am, even right after returning from a run or rolling out of bed. He is always willing to help when I need it, and is supportive in everything that I do. The thing I admire him most for is his ability to back down in an argument or disagreement in order to meet eye to eye and work it out faster. We can both be extremely stubborn and set in our ways, so our ability to be vulnerable with each other to work through something is a great feeling. I think our first year of marriage has set a strong foundation for the years to come.
In pervious relationships, if there was something I didn't like or that made me unhappy, I just kind of thought "well, no one's perfect. This is the way it's going to be and I have to deal with it" - so not true. Sure, no one's perfect, but there is such a thing as a perfect match. I wasn't perfect for my ex's and Eric wasn't perfect for his, but for each other? We just fit. We just work. I am grateful everyday that I didn't settle for anything less than the happiness I have now.
My yoga teacher once said that if you are being grateful, there is no room in your mind for stress. Anytime I feel overwhelmed or stressed out, I focus on my two beautiful, healthy daughters and my amazing marriage, and everything stills. Everything is okay.
There's no doubt we'll face hard times, but I welcome the challenge, knowing that we'll make it through and come out even stronger. I'm so glad I didn't settle. I'm so glad I married for the right reasons. If something doesn't feel right, it's probably not. If you wish someone would change, they probably won't. I love my marriage for what it is; imperfections and all. From bedtime pillow fights to working through difficult situations, I'm glad it's with him.
Friday, September 7, 2012
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Easier Said Than Done
Recent events have put my newfound mindfulness to the test, and it's definitely been a struggle. Who knew that getting yourself to a calm, clear-headed state of mind could be so difficult, when it sounds so soothing and natural?
Last night and all throughout today, my anxiety has been a roller coaster ride. Between Lyla's first day of school and her father suddenly wanting to re-involve himself in her life, I've had lots on my mind within a very short time frame. Each time I begin to feel my heart race or tears well up, I try to become "Momma Zen" by acknowledging how I am feeling, and then taking steps to calm myself down through gentle breathing and little "pep-talks". I remind myself that I cannot control certain situations, and that I shouldn't clog my mind with thoughts of possible scenarios which I cannot change, or prevent.
Easier said than done.
I may find a minute or two of relief from these thoughts, fears, and anxiety, just to slowly slip back into my own thoughts of the inevitable. I have pits, where I focus on the negative: no, this isn't what I want and peaks, where I find some peace: I can do this, it will be okay.
So I lit some candles, put on a little DMB, and got out of my own head.
Don't focus on what you cannot change
Everything happens for a reason
You are the one controlling your emotions
Chanting inside my head, over and over again until my heart is beating at a normal rate.
Breathe
I'm realizing that I create my own anxiety by remembering the past, and focusing on the "what ifs"
I have to stop doing this.
Again, easier said than done.
Somehow, these thoughts continue to creep back in and plague my mind.
Inhale belly rise, exhale belly fall
I can't change the past. I can't predict the future. All I can do is focus on today, and appreciate the breaks I can find from my own mind - even minimally.
It's a process. And a difficult one. But I'll always continue to work towards mindfulness to better myself. No one wants a stressed out mother, wife, daughter, or friend. I can be the best me I can be by continuing to practice an empty mind. I'll struggle today for an easier tomorrow.
Ben Wants Back In
And now for the post about what's really causing most of my anxiety this morning...
Last night as I was preparing Lyla's things for her first day of preschool, "Ben McPherson" pops up on my phone. A text message, asking to talk about Lyla.
Great.
After nearly a year and a half of not seeing her, talking to her, and barely asking about her, he's now choosing to reconnect with his daughter.
It's bittersweet. Of course I want Lyla to have a relationship with her biological father, because it will (hopefully) save her a world of hurt, anger, and questions in the future as she grows older. But I couldn't help feeling selfish about it. She's just starting school; I have to give her up for 9 hours a week, and now potentially even more time if he chooses to re-establish visitation? I don't want to have any less time with her than I do now. It's not fair. But, putting my own feelings aside, I need to think of what's best for my daughter, and I think having some relationship with Ben will, again - hopefully, be a good thing.
As kindly as I could, I explained how he was a complete stranger to her. She knows that he exists, but that's pretty much it. And he has no idea who she is anymore, either. He's missed out on half of her life, literally, and a child changes a lot from 18months to 3 years old. I told him that if he is serious about coming back into her life, that it's all or nothing. He needs to do it right. He needs to re-establish a relationship with her gradually, and he needs to respect me and Eric when the "where did you go? why haven't you seen me?" questions come out of my toddler's curious mind. As much as I've had my choice words about Ben, never have they been said to or in front of Lyla. Knowing that he could come back into her life, I didn't want her to hate him, or be scared to eventually go with him. Eric and I chose not to talk about him, and if she ever asked, we would tell her he was at work. The last thing I want is for Ben to tell my toddler that it was my fault he didn't see her.
I am worried about the whole thing, though. Lyla is one of the most sensitive little kids I've ever seen, and it would kill me to see someone hurt her. I warned Ben that he better never, ever do this to my little girl again if he walks back in.
He tried explaining why he hadn't seen her for this long, talking about how he had a lot going on and how it was hard when he and I were not getting along - factors I'm sure made it difficult, but quite frankly, I didn't care to hear about them - and told him so. No excuse for 16 months of not seeing your own child.
I learned from our last experience to not do, say, or sign anything without my lawyer's advice, and even though he's upset that we can't settle this on our own, I need to protect Lyla. When I told him this he told me I was treating him like an "axe murderer". Yeah, exactly. Or, I don't want to get screwed like I did the last time we went to court and see my little girl get caught in the middle. So, my lawyer will be leading me through this mess, and hopefully we can civilly work something out with Lyla's best interest in mind.
I'm dreading it. I want her all for myself. I don't want to share. I don't feel like he's done anything to deserve any time with her. I'm angry. I'm sad. But that's all about me. When it comes to Lyla, I have to put all of this aside. Hopefully my new studies of yoga, meditation and exercise can help me through it with a clear head and low anxiety.
But for now, all I can do is wait for my lawyer's signal, and go from there. I can't stress over what I cannot change or what I have no control over, and this, unfortunately, is one of those things.
Last night as I was preparing Lyla's things for her first day of preschool, "Ben McPherson" pops up on my phone. A text message, asking to talk about Lyla.
Great.
After nearly a year and a half of not seeing her, talking to her, and barely asking about her, he's now choosing to reconnect with his daughter.
It's bittersweet. Of course I want Lyla to have a relationship with her biological father, because it will (hopefully) save her a world of hurt, anger, and questions in the future as she grows older. But I couldn't help feeling selfish about it. She's just starting school; I have to give her up for 9 hours a week, and now potentially even more time if he chooses to re-establish visitation? I don't want to have any less time with her than I do now. It's not fair. But, putting my own feelings aside, I need to think of what's best for my daughter, and I think having some relationship with Ben will, again - hopefully, be a good thing.
As kindly as I could, I explained how he was a complete stranger to her. She knows that he exists, but that's pretty much it. And he has no idea who she is anymore, either. He's missed out on half of her life, literally, and a child changes a lot from 18months to 3 years old. I told him that if he is serious about coming back into her life, that it's all or nothing. He needs to do it right. He needs to re-establish a relationship with her gradually, and he needs to respect me and Eric when the "where did you go? why haven't you seen me?" questions come out of my toddler's curious mind. As much as I've had my choice words about Ben, never have they been said to or in front of Lyla. Knowing that he could come back into her life, I didn't want her to hate him, or be scared to eventually go with him. Eric and I chose not to talk about him, and if she ever asked, we would tell her he was at work. The last thing I want is for Ben to tell my toddler that it was my fault he didn't see her.
I am worried about the whole thing, though. Lyla is one of the most sensitive little kids I've ever seen, and it would kill me to see someone hurt her. I warned Ben that he better never, ever do this to my little girl again if he walks back in.
He tried explaining why he hadn't seen her for this long, talking about how he had a lot going on and how it was hard when he and I were not getting along - factors I'm sure made it difficult, but quite frankly, I didn't care to hear about them - and told him so. No excuse for 16 months of not seeing your own child.
I learned from our last experience to not do, say, or sign anything without my lawyer's advice, and even though he's upset that we can't settle this on our own, I need to protect Lyla. When I told him this he told me I was treating him like an "axe murderer". Yeah, exactly. Or, I don't want to get screwed like I did the last time we went to court and see my little girl get caught in the middle. So, my lawyer will be leading me through this mess, and hopefully we can civilly work something out with Lyla's best interest in mind.
I'm dreading it. I want her all for myself. I don't want to share. I don't feel like he's done anything to deserve any time with her. I'm angry. I'm sad. But that's all about me. When it comes to Lyla, I have to put all of this aside. Hopefully my new studies of yoga, meditation and exercise can help me through it with a clear head and low anxiety.
But for now, all I can do is wait for my lawyer's signal, and go from there. I can't stress over what I cannot change or what I have no control over, and this, unfortunately, is one of those things.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Marriage - one year in
This last year has been anything but calm.
We moved - twice. We planned and had a wedding.We dealt with Lyla's terrible 2's. We survived pregnancy. We traveled. And we went from a family of 3 to a family of 4 with little commotion. Despite all the changes and chaos that was thrown our way, somehow, Eric and I made it out alive - and with very few arguments. If they say the first year it the hardest, then bring on the next 50.
I'm actually always surprised at our ability to overcome conflicts, because Eric and I both tend to be very stubborn people. You figure: you get two headstrong individuals in an argument, and neither of them will back down. This had been the case in a few spats prior to our wedding, but somehow marriage changed that. We vowed to spend our lives together, and it's not worth losing each other over such tiny speed bumps - I'm sure hills and mountains will be in store for us sometime in the road ahead. I've previously blogged about our love and our honesty, which definitely help make up the glue that keeps us together. But I think the thing I respect the most in our marriage is our ability to be vulnerable, to back down, and to apologize.
Everyone argues. It's inevitable. The thing that sets us aside from everyone else is our willingness to overcome whatever it is we're arguing about. We recognize quickly that we don't want to be fighting, and take quick steps to work it out. We both express ourselves on the situation, and then proceed to both apologize. I think this is the key. One of us may apologize for upsetting the other, and the other may apologize for reacting the way they did. When we both apologize, we both feel heard and healed, and can move on. I really respect Eric's ability to back down, because for the typical testosterone-driven male, this is difficult. And I'm sure he respects this of me, knowing how set in my ways I can be. It's give and take. It's sacrifice. It's what needs to be done. We have a lifetime together and need to choose our battles wisely. Our vulnerability to each other is, I think, what keeps us strong, happy, and so in love.
When Hannah arrived, I thought we would get in endless fights; between the lack of sleep and the added stress, I figured we'd have a serious rough patch. I'd need help when he got home from work but he'd be tired, too. We'd go back and forth over who worked harder, who was up more during the night, who cooked, who cleaned, and we would be done for. What really happened was a total shock. We got along even better. We became selfless. He helped more with the household chores knowing how tired I was, and I put any extra energy I had into giving my husband a well deserved back or foot rub to show my appreciation. Since our time was split between the girls, any time we did get together we cherished and had a deeper appreciation for. Looking at Hannah and knowing she is ours, "made in Mexico" on our honeymoon, out of love - this just bonded the two of us in a way I didn't know was possible. I'm still waiting for the storm to come, because it feels unreal for things to be going this smoothly being newly weds with a toddler and newborn.
All in all, this last year has been long, but amazing nonetheless. I feel so lucky to have married someone who loves me for who I am, and respects me enough to work through any problem we will face. We've got a good thing going here :)
We moved - twice. We planned and had a wedding.We dealt with Lyla's terrible 2's. We survived pregnancy. We traveled. And we went from a family of 3 to a family of 4 with little commotion. Despite all the changes and chaos that was thrown our way, somehow, Eric and I made it out alive - and with very few arguments. If they say the first year it the hardest, then bring on the next 50.
I'm actually always surprised at our ability to overcome conflicts, because Eric and I both tend to be very stubborn people. You figure: you get two headstrong individuals in an argument, and neither of them will back down. This had been the case in a few spats prior to our wedding, but somehow marriage changed that. We vowed to spend our lives together, and it's not worth losing each other over such tiny speed bumps - I'm sure hills and mountains will be in store for us sometime in the road ahead. I've previously blogged about our love and our honesty, which definitely help make up the glue that keeps us together. But I think the thing I respect the most in our marriage is our ability to be vulnerable, to back down, and to apologize.
Everyone argues. It's inevitable. The thing that sets us aside from everyone else is our willingness to overcome whatever it is we're arguing about. We recognize quickly that we don't want to be fighting, and take quick steps to work it out. We both express ourselves on the situation, and then proceed to both apologize. I think this is the key. One of us may apologize for upsetting the other, and the other may apologize for reacting the way they did. When we both apologize, we both feel heard and healed, and can move on. I really respect Eric's ability to back down, because for the typical testosterone-driven male, this is difficult. And I'm sure he respects this of me, knowing how set in my ways I can be. It's give and take. It's sacrifice. It's what needs to be done. We have a lifetime together and need to choose our battles wisely. Our vulnerability to each other is, I think, what keeps us strong, happy, and so in love.
When Hannah arrived, I thought we would get in endless fights; between the lack of sleep and the added stress, I figured we'd have a serious rough patch. I'd need help when he got home from work but he'd be tired, too. We'd go back and forth over who worked harder, who was up more during the night, who cooked, who cleaned, and we would be done for. What really happened was a total shock. We got along even better. We became selfless. He helped more with the household chores knowing how tired I was, and I put any extra energy I had into giving my husband a well deserved back or foot rub to show my appreciation. Since our time was split between the girls, any time we did get together we cherished and had a deeper appreciation for. Looking at Hannah and knowing she is ours, "made in Mexico" on our honeymoon, out of love - this just bonded the two of us in a way I didn't know was possible. I'm still waiting for the storm to come, because it feels unreal for things to be going this smoothly being newly weds with a toddler and newborn.
All in all, this last year has been long, but amazing nonetheless. I feel so lucky to have married someone who loves me for who I am, and respects me enough to work through any problem we will face. We've got a good thing going here :)
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Money = Good Father?
Something I always find strange when I talk to Lyla's father is how little he asks about her. He'll call for one legal reason or another, and then shoot the shit about his life plans as if we're best friends who need catching up. But not one question about Lyla. At most, I'll get a "tell Lyla I said hi" at the end of our conversation, but nothing more. No interest in what she's doing, how she's growing, or her in general whatsoever. It's one thing to go 15 months without seeing her, but to act like she doesn't exist bothers me more than ever.
As annoying as it may have been when he was constantly texting to ask for pictures or asking to talk to her, to be honest in some way I preferred it, because despite my care-less feelings towards him, at least it showed that he still cared about Lyla. However, now that it has been so long since they've spoken and he is merely a vague memory to Lyla, it's better that he doesn't all of a sudden want to pick up where he left off; I think that would be confusing and traumatic for my 3 year old sensitive girl. Still, the thought lingers that he can choose to come back whenever he wishes, but despite the fact that it's been over a year since he's last seen her, I actually believe he thinks of himself as a good father.
Ben has always been obsessed with money. He worked all hours of the day, and spent all he made instantly. He may love making money but he loved spending it more. Ever since our split in 2010, he's paid weekly child support, and before this, he opened a trust fund for Lyla which he planned to be her college fund. In one of our recent conversations, he explained how her fund has tripled since he started it in 2009, and still plans on putting it towards her future schooling. He talked about money the whole conversation, and even though it was indirectly about Lyla, he still managed not to mention her directly once. Since he's so money-driven, I truly believe that because he pays child support and has this fund in place for her, he thinks this makes him a good father.
Eric and I could care less about this trust fund. Sure, it could be beneficial to us down the road, but this is money from a man who has made zero effort to be in his daughter's life, and she's only 3. Who knows what the next 15 years will bring. To us, this money doesn't exist. But the way Ben talks about it is as if he's some sort of fatherly God. He was so excited to tell me how much he had saved up for her, and yet he doesn't even know her anymore.
Providing financially doesn't make you a father. Everything Eric is doing: playing, teaching, disciplining and loving - those are things that make you a dad - and a good one. We could be broke and homeless and it wouldn't make Eric any less of a father to Lyla. But not seeing her for this length of time, and sending a check every month does not define you as a parent, because you aren't one.
Every now and then Lyla will ask about Ben, but recently she has declared Eric as her daddy. If you ask her who "dad" is, she'll say Eric, though she still chooses to call him Eric, or most recently "Papa" - a Beauty and the Beast influence. At this point, she knows Ben exists, but that's pretty much as far as it goes. I hope that even if he does choose to reenter Lyla's life someday, that she will recognize what it means to be a real parent, and love and respect Eric for all he's done and is doing AS her dad - even if down the road she develops a relationship with her biological father.
Once again, I can't predict the future, and I have no idea whether Ben will come back, flake out completely, or continue to think he's doing alright by providing financially. But whatever happens, Lyla has Eric, and she's so unbelievably luck for that - we both are. You can't put a dollar sign on fatherhood. It's priceless.
As annoying as it may have been when he was constantly texting to ask for pictures or asking to talk to her, to be honest in some way I preferred it, because despite my care-less feelings towards him, at least it showed that he still cared about Lyla. However, now that it has been so long since they've spoken and he is merely a vague memory to Lyla, it's better that he doesn't all of a sudden want to pick up where he left off; I think that would be confusing and traumatic for my 3 year old sensitive girl. Still, the thought lingers that he can choose to come back whenever he wishes, but despite the fact that it's been over a year since he's last seen her, I actually believe he thinks of himself as a good father.
Ben has always been obsessed with money. He worked all hours of the day, and spent all he made instantly. He may love making money but he loved spending it more. Ever since our split in 2010, he's paid weekly child support, and before this, he opened a trust fund for Lyla which he planned to be her college fund. In one of our recent conversations, he explained how her fund has tripled since he started it in 2009, and still plans on putting it towards her future schooling. He talked about money the whole conversation, and even though it was indirectly about Lyla, he still managed not to mention her directly once. Since he's so money-driven, I truly believe that because he pays child support and has this fund in place for her, he thinks this makes him a good father.
Eric and I could care less about this trust fund. Sure, it could be beneficial to us down the road, but this is money from a man who has made zero effort to be in his daughter's life, and she's only 3. Who knows what the next 15 years will bring. To us, this money doesn't exist. But the way Ben talks about it is as if he's some sort of fatherly God. He was so excited to tell me how much he had saved up for her, and yet he doesn't even know her anymore.
Providing financially doesn't make you a father. Everything Eric is doing: playing, teaching, disciplining and loving - those are things that make you a dad - and a good one. We could be broke and homeless and it wouldn't make Eric any less of a father to Lyla. But not seeing her for this length of time, and sending a check every month does not define you as a parent, because you aren't one.
Every now and then Lyla will ask about Ben, but recently she has declared Eric as her daddy. If you ask her who "dad" is, she'll say Eric, though she still chooses to call him Eric, or most recently "Papa" - a Beauty and the Beast influence. At this point, she knows Ben exists, but that's pretty much as far as it goes. I hope that even if he does choose to reenter Lyla's life someday, that she will recognize what it means to be a real parent, and love and respect Eric for all he's done and is doing AS her dad - even if down the road she develops a relationship with her biological father.
Once again, I can't predict the future, and I have no idea whether Ben will come back, flake out completely, or continue to think he's doing alright by providing financially. But whatever happens, Lyla has Eric, and she's so unbelievably luck for that - we both are. You can't put a dollar sign on fatherhood. It's priceless.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Running
I ran my first "race" when I was 6 years old. It was once around a local park, about a half mile, and despite the fact that all the other 6 year olds ran to their mommy's or got distracted by the giant playground, I still like to basque in the glory of coming in 3rd - 1st girl ;)
Even though I didn't do much running on my own until years after my victory race, running was a part of my daily life through my parents. Both marathoners at the time, it was simply part of their routine to run daily. Breakfast, coffee, run. I loved going to their races and watching them run by as I stood among the crowd screaming "go mommy, go daddy!", and not to mention, got to eat all the fresh fruit and power bars I could get my hands on.
9th grade came along and so did the proposal of running cross country. At the time, I was dancing ballet, and had to choose between the two because of the severely different ways my muscles would be trained. I chose to run. Little did I know the injuries I would soon endure, from ligament tears in both knees to a fractured hip; it just so happens that the year I began running would be the only full season I would complete.
After high school I continued to run after recovering from 2 knee surgeries, but mainly to run off a night of drinking and 3am fast food burgers. Eventually, I took running more seriously and eased into a weekly routine while avoiding further injury, which allowed me to actually enjoy running, and the feeling I had afterwards.
Now more than ever I love and appreciate my ability to run. Pregnancy definitely aided these feelings; after a difficult 9 months of morning sickness, back pain, and the typical baby-on-the-bladder-running-prevention, I was eager to get back into the swing of it. Not to mention, the motivation of losing baby weight always got me out the door, even after a sleepless night.
Running is my everything-outlet. If I'm overwhelmed, I'll go for an extra long easy-run, focusing on it being "me time" and return home with a clear head and ready to take on the world. If I'm angry, I'll put on a good rock play list and stomp out a faster, harder run, leaving all my anger in the dust. Even when I'm happy, I'll run along to an upbeat music selection and just appreciate the world around me. I love running in any mood, any weather, anytime.
The feeling I have afterwards is the most rewarding. Ironically it gives me a fabulous energy boost, and I always spend the rest of the day feeling refreshed and level-headed. In my attempt to prevent injury now more than ever, running has forced me to take better care of my body by incorporating more stretching and yoga-esque strengthening techniques. Even if it's only 10 minutes before one of my kids needs me and I'm slapped back to reality, I love the me-time where I can just focus on myself, my body, my flexibility, and my health. I'm a better mom for it, I think, because if I feel good and have a good energy, I'm going to reflect that onto my children. Good vibes! They're contagious.
I feel lucky every day that I was able to overcome all of my injuries, and despite my less-than-perfect running structure, I'm still out there 4-5 times a week. I also feel lucky that Eric is so supportive of my exercise; after a long 8 hour day at work, he comes home to watch the 2 girls while I head out for my daily run, and I know that can't always be easy on him.
I hope my body allows me to run for years to come. Call me crazy, but I love it.
Even though I didn't do much running on my own until years after my victory race, running was a part of my daily life through my parents. Both marathoners at the time, it was simply part of their routine to run daily. Breakfast, coffee, run. I loved going to their races and watching them run by as I stood among the crowd screaming "go mommy, go daddy!", and not to mention, got to eat all the fresh fruit and power bars I could get my hands on.
9th grade came along and so did the proposal of running cross country. At the time, I was dancing ballet, and had to choose between the two because of the severely different ways my muscles would be trained. I chose to run. Little did I know the injuries I would soon endure, from ligament tears in both knees to a fractured hip; it just so happens that the year I began running would be the only full season I would complete.
After high school I continued to run after recovering from 2 knee surgeries, but mainly to run off a night of drinking and 3am fast food burgers. Eventually, I took running more seriously and eased into a weekly routine while avoiding further injury, which allowed me to actually enjoy running, and the feeling I had afterwards.
Now more than ever I love and appreciate my ability to run. Pregnancy definitely aided these feelings; after a difficult 9 months of morning sickness, back pain, and the typical baby-on-the-bladder-running-prevention, I was eager to get back into the swing of it. Not to mention, the motivation of losing baby weight always got me out the door, even after a sleepless night.
Running is my everything-outlet. If I'm overwhelmed, I'll go for an extra long easy-run, focusing on it being "me time" and return home with a clear head and ready to take on the world. If I'm angry, I'll put on a good rock play list and stomp out a faster, harder run, leaving all my anger in the dust. Even when I'm happy, I'll run along to an upbeat music selection and just appreciate the world around me. I love running in any mood, any weather, anytime.
The feeling I have afterwards is the most rewarding. Ironically it gives me a fabulous energy boost, and I always spend the rest of the day feeling refreshed and level-headed. In my attempt to prevent injury now more than ever, running has forced me to take better care of my body by incorporating more stretching and yoga-esque strengthening techniques. Even if it's only 10 minutes before one of my kids needs me and I'm slapped back to reality, I love the me-time where I can just focus on myself, my body, my flexibility, and my health. I'm a better mom for it, I think, because if I feel good and have a good energy, I'm going to reflect that onto my children. Good vibes! They're contagious.
I feel lucky every day that I was able to overcome all of my injuries, and despite my less-than-perfect running structure, I'm still out there 4-5 times a week. I also feel lucky that Eric is so supportive of my exercise; after a long 8 hour day at work, he comes home to watch the 2 girls while I head out for my daily run, and I know that can't always be easy on him.
I hope my body allows me to run for years to come. Call me crazy, but I love it.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Religion
Quite frankly, I've always had lots of questions regarding religion. I've gone back and forth over the years, from totally unsure to reading the bible word for word. I was raised catholic, but not strictly. My family attended church occasionally, and everything religious felt very forced and unnatural. And now at 23, I'm right where I've always been - confused.
Right after I had Lyla was a time I'd consider my most religious. I thought "wow, there must be a God, this beautiful child is proof". I began to attend church weekly, reading the bible, and asking catholic friends loads of questions. But somehow, each time I spent time with a friend or family member who was less than religious, I always took two steps backwards. I would second guess my beliefs, and have more questions than ever. And I still do.
Take those who are gay, for example. People are born gay, it is not a choice. And supposedly, God creates all people, meaning that he created them, too. So, why would God create a gay man, and then teach people that it is "wrong" or "unnatural"? And on top of that, deny them their equal rights as a human to marry the person they love? Sure, they cannot have biological children together, but there are some man-woman couples who cannot either, and even others who choose not to. It's heartbreaking to hear of families who practically disown their own child because they came out as gay. As a mother, I will love my girls no matter what direction life takes them, and I will support who and what they love.
Our wedding was one of the worst experiences I have had with the church. I felt judged because I had a child out of wedlock from a previous relationship, we were looked down upon because we didn't attend church regularly, and a great deal of pressure was put on us to become confirmed - which neither Eric and I are. Shouldn't God be grateful that I brought a child into this world, and not focus on the fact that she may have not been planned or with a person I was in love with? I love her and do my best to raise her. Isn't that what's important? Isn't being spiritual and believing in God more important than how often you attend church? It's hard to commit yourself to a religion when you're constantly feeling judged or put down for decisions you've made. I find that each time I get re-involved with the catholic religion, I leave feeling poorly about myself, my past, and my beliefs.
Lyla was baptized when she was 3 months old. This was during the time I considered myself "most religious", and felt good about welcoming my daughter into the world of God. This ceremony was her entry way to heaven someday, which was a much better thought than anything else in terms of the after life. And today, we have a meeting at the church for Hannah's baptism. Although Eric and I are currently quite confused and unsure of where religion will take us, we wanted to leave the door open for our girls, and so, we're choosing to have Hannah baptized in a Catholic church - the one where we were married. I'm hoping to have a better experience, since Hannah was a product of love and marriage. I'm hoping to be able to focus on the possibilities for our baby girl, and not be frowned upon by our lack of church attendance.
Our girls can choose whatever path in life they want, and we will be 100% supportive. But as for us, we are just utterly confused on what to believe right now.
Right after I had Lyla was a time I'd consider my most religious. I thought "wow, there must be a God, this beautiful child is proof". I began to attend church weekly, reading the bible, and asking catholic friends loads of questions. But somehow, each time I spent time with a friend or family member who was less than religious, I always took two steps backwards. I would second guess my beliefs, and have more questions than ever. And I still do.
Take those who are gay, for example. People are born gay, it is not a choice. And supposedly, God creates all people, meaning that he created them, too. So, why would God create a gay man, and then teach people that it is "wrong" or "unnatural"? And on top of that, deny them their equal rights as a human to marry the person they love? Sure, they cannot have biological children together, but there are some man-woman couples who cannot either, and even others who choose not to. It's heartbreaking to hear of families who practically disown their own child because they came out as gay. As a mother, I will love my girls no matter what direction life takes them, and I will support who and what they love.
Our wedding was one of the worst experiences I have had with the church. I felt judged because I had a child out of wedlock from a previous relationship, we were looked down upon because we didn't attend church regularly, and a great deal of pressure was put on us to become confirmed - which neither Eric and I are. Shouldn't God be grateful that I brought a child into this world, and not focus on the fact that she may have not been planned or with a person I was in love with? I love her and do my best to raise her. Isn't that what's important? Isn't being spiritual and believing in God more important than how often you attend church? It's hard to commit yourself to a religion when you're constantly feeling judged or put down for decisions you've made. I find that each time I get re-involved with the catholic religion, I leave feeling poorly about myself, my past, and my beliefs.
Lyla was baptized when she was 3 months old. This was during the time I considered myself "most religious", and felt good about welcoming my daughter into the world of God. This ceremony was her entry way to heaven someday, which was a much better thought than anything else in terms of the after life. And today, we have a meeting at the church for Hannah's baptism. Although Eric and I are currently quite confused and unsure of where religion will take us, we wanted to leave the door open for our girls, and so, we're choosing to have Hannah baptized in a Catholic church - the one where we were married. I'm hoping to have a better experience, since Hannah was a product of love and marriage. I'm hoping to be able to focus on the possibilities for our baby girl, and not be frowned upon by our lack of church attendance.
Our girls can choose whatever path in life they want, and we will be 100% supportive. But as for us, we are just utterly confused on what to believe right now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)