An Untold Story

"There is no greater agnoy than bearing an untold story inside you." 

I recently read this quote and tears filled my eyes at the possibilities that families experience with pain in all situations. I've never thought of a story being untold, until I had one. My life has now become an open book, and for some reason my heart needs to let this story turn into one that is heard. 

Miscarriages are never spoke of. It may be the pain that conversations bring up for the Moms and Dads that have experienced them, or the unknown of what could've become. Statistics show that 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage. These numbers are devastating. They're not the fault of anyone but sadly, (as much as I've hated hearing the phrase,) "something that just happens." Which is where all of the hurt begins. 

On a March afternoon after leaving school and just having that feeling of, "oh my word, I believe this is finally happening!" Curtis and I found out that baby #3 was soon to be. 

 

We were nervous, excited and ready for another adventure that God had given us. We playfully argued back and forth about finding out the gender, or not. Wether we would be finished after number 3, or not. How we would tell our parents, our children and our friends. 

I never realized how perfect the highlited scripture was for this experience. 

 

That was until I woke on a Tuesday morning during Spring Break to what would become one of the hardest valleys my life has endured. I continued to read over this scripture as I sat in an ER room waiting for answers of what I already knew was taking place. 

It's true that noone ever tells you how much pain you can hold for someone you've never met. There isn't a number of weeks, numbers in an HCG count, or a line graph of numbers that could show the love a Mother holds for baby. Even though I knew from the moment I left, it was unbearable for me to tell my husband that my body was working against what we thought was our next big adventure. No one prepares you for crying in your husbands arms as daylight is beginning to break. Or going from plans of announcing a pregnancy, to giving them news that your plans have changed. The gasps and smiles as you start to tell your news to family, that quickly change to hugs and tears. Or how when you get a reminder phone call for your first ultrasound and appointment because your doctor's office mistakenly didn't cancel the appointment. Your heart literally just breaks all over again. Loss is loss, and it's just simply hard. A hard that no one can describe. 

Obviously, it's true that miscarriages are not talked about. But they should be.

We recognize life in so many forms, and we also recognize the passing of life. We grieve with loved ones and total strangers on many occasions throughout life, and grieving is an important role. The Lord even calls us to grieve. Stories of sadness may not be spoke of because they are hard to hear, but sometimes they are what we need to say. I didn't realize how much I needed to speak about this recent experience until one afternoon I blurted it out to two sweet ladies after a PTO meeting. I'm sure I blindsided them, but their responses comforted me and told me that they too would be praying for this valley. 

"God knew we needed you to tell us."

I agree and I'm thankful for their words. 

The twelve week rule isn't an etiquette guideline that I've ever followed. But after this journey I personally cannot say I ever will. 

Life is celebrated with reveals, postings, parties, and surprises. Death is a protocol for a memorial or funeral. But a miscarriage death is usually an experience of grief held by only one person, or two. 

No one should ever have to grieve alone. Or feel as if their grief should be hidden. We shouldn't feel as if a miscarriage passing isn't adequate enough to grieve for. 

We should be excited about our pregnancies from the moment we have the first thought of, "Oh could this be?"  We should let our loved one surround us with love and encouragement in all situations - easier said than done. And to never fear the judgements like I feared would come. As I told my family and close friends, I told them that I didn't want anyone knowing per the judgement that could follow. But in reality, there isn't judgment to be casted out. 

I've grieved and there are moments that I will still grieve. Even though this was an early pregnancy, there are no words to change what could've been. I've since learned that when you miscarry, it isn't just a physical process but one of emotions from the start to I assume never ending - as grief always just gets better in time. 

My untold story of our could've been may have been full of possibilities. But how thankful I am for a God that loves the broken. One that was also my ear when I had only a few to speak to. Even though I may not ever understand, I know his timing and our "what if's" are his perfect plan. 

I hope that I can be more diligent with being honest in my conversations. It may be hard to talk about, but talks that we need to have. If you're someone who has not experienced a miscarriage but are a shoulder for some who has, just listen. Let this person know it's okay to feel whatever they need to. Share scripture with them, and just let them be heard. If you're someone who has experienced a miscarriage reach out to someone because you never know if they may be within that 25% that has suffered a miscarriage. For myself, I'm personally trying to grow the introvert out and have these hard talks. They may range from sick children, a busy mom schedule or just someone I know who is in a season of struggle. 

While I'm still in this hallway, I'll continue to praise him until the next door opens, whether it's a rainbow or another hard storm. Hard things bring us to our knees and I'm not sure about you, but that's exactly what I need most days.

 

Hatching Chicks

Hatchimals have nothing on my eleven year old farm girl that has a love for not only animals, but for life itself.

On Christmas, we gave Charli Beth an incubator as a gift. It's seriously nothing fancy but after some research I found that it would do its job and give us many memory making days. To say the least this gift was perfect, and is already the gift that never stops giving and growing.

 

In March, I started asking asking for someone to buy fertilized eggs from to start our project. Let me just say that we are blessed to know many kind, loving families that quickly wanted to share with us. We went with a family friend who also babysat Charli Beth as a baby. She had maran, Araucana and wynadotte eggs.

The perfect combination for all of our wants.

So we picked our eggs and marked them on one side (we used marker and that was a big mistake apparently. I never even thought of the damage it could do but after reading I realize pencil is best. As my 8 year old self would say.."duh!")

 

The reason we marked the eggs is because we were turning them three times a day by hand. Typically you can find egg turners for a cheap amount at TSC. But I wanted to give this a try and let Charli B stay more engaged - not that she would ever have a problem doing so. We placed them within the incubator and began our journey of incubating chick eggs.

It takes 21 days to hatch. 21 long nerve wracking days.

Are they too hot? Is the Humidity too low? Is this storm going to make us loose power?

It's literally like being a Mama hen. Don't laugh.

You can start to see life forming around Day 6/Day 7.

 

The veins are spreading and the embryo is very pronounced. Isn't this amazing? It's literally like a chick egg ultrasound. This process is called Egg Candling and is done by a special flashlight.

Day 10 candling already shows movement! I'm not certain that the videos will post along but I will add them to my Facebook page - Boots, Bows & 5-oh

 

Day 14 was the day to officially throw out eggs that had stopped growing or were not fertile to begin with. On this day we tossed 5. I did crack two of them just to investigate. If you see more than a blood ring within an egg, I do not advise this. The two I opened never started forming after being implanted. There are many reasons this could've occurred.

 
(This is a bad egg with a blood ring) 

 

Day 18 is the last official egg candling day. This is also known as, "lock down day." After you candle for the last time you shut the incubator and do not open again until hatching occurs. The eggs need to keep their humidity so the shells do not become soft once pip holes begin. This is SO hard.

Day 20 arrived and of course no hatchings started. I literally thought we had killed them all until the next morning came and a little hole came about. I wanted to stay home all day just to watch, but work calls. We were all so anxious that it was hard to wait. We had to make deals of which kid would be the first in the door to check the incubator. By no surprise, Charli won. But no action had been made. We literally ordered pizza and sat by the incubator until Charli and Bryar went to bed. I returned to my perch after tucking in and reading stories. At 12:20 our first chick hatched. I tried waking little Miss Mama hen, but she didn't budge so I ran back in to start a video for her. It was literally...

 

 
 

The ugliest thing ever, but so very cute and sweet at the same time! I listened to it peep all night long as it not so gracefully walked around to cuddle other eggs.

 

 

As time passed one thing I noticed with our incubator is that it did not help chick dry off properly. I'm not sure why this is, or what I can help do at this point. For this time I spent an Friday night bathing them with hot water on a cotton ball, then blowing drying their little feathers. After this they each immediately went into our brooder under a heat lamp. 

 

As other chicks started to hatch and Charli was sound asleep, I decided to do a live Facebook video. This hatch took 48 mins, and yes 17 people watched the entire time. I'm so glad that I'm not the only person who was anxiously awaiting hatchlings to arrive. 

 

 

The chicks are now around 3 weeks old. This a latest photo of some from Easter.

We hope to start a new hatch in a few weeks when life slows down a bit. For now, I believe we'll continue researching and learning from this experience. 

 

While the door stands closed...

Life is but a blur. At least that's what some say. Some days it's never ending, other moments go by just as quickly as they arrived. I spend my days worrying over what's next, or how I'll create that next moment worth adding to the top of the memory bank. I live for days that are simple and uncostly, as I've found they sometime cherish the most meaningful memories. Other memories are precious just for the memory making.

I love all just the same.

I've recently been wondering why things happen the way the do. Or why they do not happen.

It's a little over my pay grade as a sinful human undeserving of grace to question God's plans. Some days I understand, actually most days I do. But we all fall short and have our moments of wonders. I have them more often than I would like to say. I then find myself in the mix of a powerful moment, and could almost laugh out loud at the irony as I'm saying "ok God, I get it."

I may not have the fancy cars, a blog that is worldly known, or clothes that are perfectly stitched with brands we've all known. What I do have is two children smiling along with me most days as we create memories. A husband that knows I'm here for him when he needs to share some crazy adventure with. A mom who is a phone call away. A sister who gets my crazy messages, and my "person" who just gets me - crazy and all. 

Gods plan may not be my plan, and I'm okay with that. While I wait within this hall, I'll worship while the next door either starts to open, or barricades it's self. 

While I ask that you pray for my heart as I do not waste pain.

That while a door stands closed before me, that I find beauty in the hallways while waiting. Each door has a new adventure or memory before it. I just hope that I can relax and be willing to take it all in.

Recently, the kids and I were able to take a, "fun day" and go with my home church snow tubing at Perfect North. It's been a long time since I can recall such smiles and pure fun. I remember thinking about the perfect moments of the day, and reminding myself that these moments are all around me. Two growing children who love to laugh, smile and adventure. I couldn't be anymore thankful for just that.

Chaotic Peace

As we grow older, the years seem to become shorter with each passing season. The weeks fly by, and then it seems a new year is here facing us once again. I remember being a child and thinking the days would never pass by quickly enough for Christmas, my birthday or Easter to arrive. My own daughter even checks the days off on her own calendar counting down until each new week comes to be. 

Even though I love growing older and watching my babies do the same, sometimes it's just perfect to slow down, stop and enjoy. Life can be so hectic and some days I bring my own version of mindful hectic to reality. But I long for the days where the sun is shining and the world is practically begging you to see the beauty in each little moment. 

As a child I remember walking creek beds just searching for an adventure . Or seeing how far I could take myself without ever getting lost. But even the simple moments of watching too much tv was good for my little soul, that was tired of what I thought was a busy world. How life is almost comical to make us believe the world can be so tough be at such young ages. But then again, we don't know what their little minds are holding in or how they've experienced life for the day. 

Even through our own stresses and worries we're merely blinded to the fact that our children also need that moment of reassurance. That isn't just the reassurance of love, but of grace and mercy. As a Mother, I'm far too often jumping to conclusions rather than holding the peace. It's part of my faults as a person. Sometimes in the middle of a moment of parenting I think, "create the peace, don't join the choas" with the choas still stirring I don't listen to my inner thoughts.  Within moments I'm Mommy shaming myself until the next parenting praise. Or I'm thinking about how my Dad would silently whisper, "leave that poor baby alone" even though he knew I was parenting - for he greater good. 

While I may need the slow down, and the moments to take in of silence. These little humans may too. Tonight we spent the afternoon running a few errands, having dinner, stopping for donuts and then pulling into the park while I screamed "last one out is a rockin' egg" {Rockin egg = rotten egg for the littlest} It took a few moments of convincing that I'm not a loon and if the police showed up, we would shake their hands and remind them that Daddy is home with the stomach bug. While I tend to freak the holy haystacks out when the bug is present, I somehow turned my night around with these thoughts...

"These are the moments they'll never remember, but I'll never forget."

They may not remember thirty minutes we spent screaming to jump the hay rolls, but I'll remember the first smile during the landing. She probably won't remember me climbing the monkey bars, but I'll never forget the laughter while we played tagged on this warm Feburary night. They may {Mommy fail} wake up with croup, but I'll be darn if we didn't have fun. 

We may cause choas in our moments of memory making, and if we do that's okay. Just take the next moment to pause, smile at them {they may need that slight moment of reassurance, just as we do} and remember these moments pass way too often. 

For now, I'll be spending the rest of this non-snowy winter jumping hay - or finding my way out of the chaos. Either way, I sure I hope I never forget these moments. 

Be The Good.

"The world is full of good people. If you can't find one, be one."

 

A wise person once stated this quote and although, I am uncertain who said it (because lets face it you cannot believe everything you read on the interwebz.) I truly believe that there is no truer words than those spoken, especially during the times we are facing as a country at this moment. I've really let myself down lately by complaining and gripping. I've been frustrated with how things are turning out in my own experiences, but also just flabbergasted at the society we are living in as well. I have failed at the expectations that I set for myself, and the ones that were set for me too. 

  

It wasn't until today that I read this comment for the fifth time, and thought over my day that I realized how incorrectly my outlook has been. My struggles over the last year have been known publically through my blog and various social media sites. At one time, I was a quiet person about my feelings. I sucked it up, and got over it. At this stage in my life, I feel better venting and even crying sometimes. I'm not sure which is right, or wrong. But what is best for me in the moment I am facing, seems to be the one that I turn to. 

I cannot say that I understand life at this stage. There seems to be a lot of experiences happening that are continuing to turn me into a new person. But one thing known to be true is to not let bad experiences or moments turn you into a bad person. It's so cliche but then again very true. From a girl who turned bad experiences as a child, into even worse. 

Loosing your way, typically means finding a new person on your new path.

I've literally become this new "Paige" like 47 times, and I've yet to hit age 30. I can only hope that each time, the person within me becomes a little better. I'll sadly never forget right after high school, I became closer friends with a girl and she stated something to the assumption of "I don't even really know who you are. In high school you were just ...scary."

Thank the Heavens above that people now laugh at this story. Along with the stories of how I tested my limits one too many times. But boy, does it make my stomach turn that this is the past people know me as. Wouldn't it be nice if people could ease into forgiveness and new light just as Christ does? Even better what if we were able to do this within our marriages. 

I am the worlds absolute worst at holding grudges. Especially grudges I can hang onto that my dear Husband helps me behold. But honestly, that's another post for another day. 

The heart topic that is truly pulling at my heart strings tonight is one that is overflowing within my little piece of a hometown. A town that has no more than eight stop lights, five gas stations, and one school system. It's a town that I spent most of my years growing up in, and one that supported me as a single Mom with a wonderful occupaton as a 911 telecommunicator for nearly five years. A community that has taken my bad experiences, and showed me how to love life into the new path I would face. A town with a heart bigger than the size of the state that we live within, as they all helped support my family during the recent loss of my Dad. 

I've watched this little southern town come together, lock arms and pray for a tragedy that shook the community. We held candles, sang, prayed and spoke highly of how all were coming together to support the hurting hearts within the community. It was truly amazing to be a witness to that event. To drive home, cry tears and explain to my nine year old daughter at the time that this is how the world should react when things happen a such. 

But tonight friends, I'm ashamed.

I'm ashamed that the little town that I've blogged, commented and raved to my new small community about is going downhill all over a political view. I'm ashamed that the bashing and the opinions have become more than friendship. I'm angry that people believe that just because a town isn't growing within certain aspects that it's lousy and "piss poor" as one would say. I'm hurt that this experience, is shedding light to citizens who aren't willing to accept the good within our world.  I'm disgusted that no matter how the election results will read next week, at the end... The devil has won.

How may you ask? 

Go check Facebook.

Facebook has become this place that helps each of us lonely old folks feel as if our opinions matter, when I'll be honest - they don't. But what matters, is your character. 

Character; What you do when no one else is looking. 

If you are acting ugly as an individual in plain view through comments, or Facebook feeds, all due to your opinion, then we have much larger problems.This goes for the Christian, and for the non-believers as well. Our issues as a county, and even a country with President Elect Donald Trump's inauguration tomorrow are running much deeper than a vote no to alcohol sales sign. Our issues are simply lying with the hearts of each of us, including yours truly. 

At the end of the day, you are not going to sway the opinion of the person that is on the other end of the computer. You will not feel justification in being the last to comment in a Facebook war - trust me, I've been there. But what you will feel is embarrassed and ashamed the next time you view the other person face to face. You will feel that burning in your heart, to do the right thing. 

So, can we all just agree on one thing? 

To be kind and loving.

 Let's not let the devil win this one, folks. Let's stop now, and start being the community that I've bragged on. You haven't let me down in the past, so for the love of man kind, let's get it together. Shake hands, lock arms, and continue being the small community that supports one another in hard times, rather than causing more grief. 

It's been five years since I've left the county that I am speaking of. I travel one of the main roads continuously to visit. I for one, love this lousy little town and would hate for anything to ever change it or the sweet atmosphere that it holds. There have been many tragedies over the past year, and my mind cannot help but to recall of how much the citizens of the United States proudly wore the stripes of our nation after the horrible attack of 9/11. But now we seem to be more divided than ever. The devil is winning and everyday we are getting further behind in the race of continuing to be the greatest nation in the world. Don't let this happen to your community. Continue lifting one another up, loving your neighbor and upholding your character.  

Keep calm, classy and Christian. Let's don't go into that path of having to find yourself, because sometimes it's an ugly feeling. A feeling that I too, wish I could avoid most days. Be the good within the world, that you are hoping to find. 

On the 6th day of Christmas Break...

I'm forever behind in my blogging nights and at times I'm not so sure that I'll ever catch up. But this wouldn't be a Mommy blog, if I didn't post for the entire world to see my failure as a Mother... 

It looked a little like this...

But all begin while that little superhero on the left and I were Christmas shopping for the sister while she was at a birthday party. Not just any regular party, but an ice skating one. We were walking through Hobby Lobby as my phone rang and the sweet Mama on the other end said Charli had taken a fall. Oh, big deal right?! She's ice skating, call me back if she's really hurt. 

Well, of course a physical therapist was right by taking a look and thought her wrist needed some attention. But still not I.. The know if all Mom who would then pick up the child, and drive her to a nearby urgent clinic as I touched and poked around on it. 

I checked in all while asking how to check back out if we ended up thinking she didn't need xrays. The looks from the receptionist were quiet astonishing. 😳 So, we stayed and laughed about the bill we would have for a non-broken arm... 

Until... 

It was actually broken. 

The look, the laughter, the "I told you so...", the jokes were just overly funny but Charli's face was just priceless. 

We started our Christmas journey out with a hot pink cast and Tylenol to be safe. In a short three weeks later, she was able to get her cast off and is still sporting her splint for a few more weeks. 

I won't lie and say that I'll always believe the broken bones but next time I won't be "as tough" on my little fragile child 😂I'm just still overly surprised the our wild man wasn't the first to break a bone. But he was the first to stick a button inside of his ear. Because you know every little boy needs a descret way to speak to his navy seal partners. Thankfully, I was at school and was able to get it out without anymore medical bills piling up. 

Lesson learned but I'm sure they're not over with just yet. 

Our Christmas Project

Christmas is a time of joy, family gatherings and memory making. But for families that have lost a significant member of their family, it holds emotions of all different sorts. I'm certain that those feeling never really change, and things just become a little more ordinary with a new way of life over the years. But this year I was rushed by my own faults and started shopping late. Then I would end up tearing up in aisles and have to walk out. "oh, there's a plaid shirt marcel would love..." Then my heart was done. 

But something that helped me throughout this Christmas season was a project that I had been longing to do. 

Pinterest is such a wonderful thing for ideas for crafty creative souls, like mine longs to be. But when I found this item months ago, I just knew it had to be accomplished. 

Thankfully, my Dad was a hoarder of clothing a items - much like my own husband. So, my Mom picked the perfect shirts and purchased pillow inserts for all the women, best friend and grandchildren of our family.{Her ability to carry own, and find happiness in making others happy continues to amaze me.}

My wonderful Mother in law never hesitated in helping me with this project, even with a cold and house guests of her own. We spent an afternoon cutting, measuring, pinning and sewing together nine fantastic pillows made from Marcel's shirts. 

The first product made me cry tears of more emotions than this sentence can hold. It brought me pure joy to know that these items would posses great meaning to all who received one. 

This project made my Christmas joyful and meaningful. From the fireball wrapper tucked away in a pocket to the grease spot near his belly each shirt held a perfect meaning. A meaning of a great man, the great legend of marcel. Shinning chrome surrounded trucks, to carrying in his bible each Sunday to church. We will forever miss this family staple of a man, but I hope we can always find the joy in all he left behind for us. 

A Day Like Today.

"And the memory of a day like today
Could get you through the rest of your life..."

In the middle of parenthood, life can throw some pretty sour lemons at marriages. You can look over at the love of your life, and your heart can skip a beat all while you're wanting to chop his feisty little neck. It's just the reality of it. We spend our lives trying to appease too many lives. All while we sometimes forget the ones standing in front of us. 

My husband and I are excruciatingly bad at this. 

Words cannot even describe how bad. He likes his work, and he loves to do manly man things. I love my work, and I also overly love my kids most moments, days, weeks, years... Too much. 

I'm simply a jerk to him a lot because I'm overly jealous of his ability to do things that Mothers simply can't. It's wrong, I know. But it's also human nature. 

If you're here looking for advice on how to change the jerk face you are to your spouse, look on friends. I haven't quite mastered that skills yet. 

But today was a good day. On Thursday Curtis asked me if I would come over to his "deer camp" to eat breakfast and hunt with him. Even though I love hunting {and food} I made many excuses of why I couldn't. They ranged from being sleepy, to finding overnight care for our little loves. Finally I let buck fever catch up with me, took one for the team and purchased my license so I had to go. 

And God am I thankful I did. 

Did I shoot the buck I've been waiting six years for? No. Did we ever see a whitetail? No. But I sat next to my husband for hours upon hours just soaking it up. Creepily watching one another catch a few snoozes. We silently laughed. And as "cupcaking" as it sounds I even caught myself admiring him for the qualities I often forget about him. 

Our day wasn't glorious by any means. It was actually a very cold, windy, boring, belly growling, crossing legs because you have to pee so bad but cannot type of day. But I needed this day with him. 

So, as wives and mothers let's stop making those excuses and just give it a try. I can promise you at the end of the day, when you already know it's been a good day then a sappy love song comes on the radio and it makes you smile... It will be totally worth it. So, make the memories, live a little and enjoy your spouse for all of the, "today's."