tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10298448252735418092024-02-19T00:06:27.981-08:00Legos on the StairsNavigating this life.Audrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15067078352280425751noreply@blogger.comBlogger9125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1029844825273541809.post-52732640440190617552021-04-29T21:12:00.001-07:002021-05-23T00:12:49.577-07:00Undead<p> I grasp the dagger handle, raise it high above my head,</p><p>prepare myself for battle with the ghosts no longer dead.</p><p>But I’m older now, love has softened me, I don’t remember how to fight</p><p>against these waves of darkness that have come to steal my light.</p><p>Still I walk among the gravestones, finding only empty graves.</p><p>Beware of conquered demons merely resting in their caves.</p>Audrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15067078352280425751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1029844825273541809.post-28783374110222357212015-01-06T21:14:00.000-08:002015-01-06T21:17:58.667-08:00Blueberry Baby<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji6QH_pG7YqeEjIhIzJoczGMXgkrCWqE2BAi7KVNkfVBzoEeE_CRu5hWLAAZYYjEjk6F6WwKgPufSDRweHL6WTRwltQZ_9vAf_2gdBMywvw10fbde1Mx9ofLCeC3Fbzzj5l4_jrnvLwYsf/s1600/DSC_0083.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji6QH_pG7YqeEjIhIzJoczGMXgkrCWqE2BAi7KVNkfVBzoEeE_CRu5hWLAAZYYjEjk6F6WwKgPufSDRweHL6WTRwltQZ_9vAf_2gdBMywvw10fbde1Mx9ofLCeC3Fbzzj5l4_jrnvLwYsf/s1600/DSC_0083.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Almost from the beginning, I knew that this pregnancy was different. I can't say exactly how.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Let's wait a while before we say anything to anyone", I told my husband.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What I really meant was, let's wait a while before we believe.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I waited.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And there were signs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Spotting can be normal during pregnancy", the professionals all said. There was nothing I could do but wait.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I waited.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And as I waited, my mind would wander.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And even as I tried not to, I would think, and hope.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Your baby is the size of a sesame seed", the website I finally visited said, and I tried not to care.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Your baby is the size of a lentil", I read the following week, and I tried in vain to keep my heart closed tight.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And still I waited.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Your baby is the size of a blueberry", the next week said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And something in me stirred.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I thought of my kids and our blueberry picking in the hot sun each June.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How we loved doing that. How they always ate more than they ever picked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I thought of the sound the blueberries made as they fell into their always empty buckets, just the faintest little "tink".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I imagined holding one in my hand, felt how it weighed next to nothing, and I was suddenly struck by how fragile a blueberry is.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And how very much I wanted this baby to be.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And then the blood came.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I knew that it was over.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I kept this pregnancy to myself because I thought that would keep it from hurting. I thought if I kept it from feeling real, then I wouldn't care when it was gone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But I was wrong.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It still hurts.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It hurts a lot, actually.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And the only thing I avoided by keeping it to myself, by keeping it <i>from</i> myself really, was my joy. I still got all of the heartache, every bit of it, but I completely bypassed any of the joy. And all I'm left with is the heartbreaking realization that even while I tried to deny its existence, my baby lived.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I completely missed it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One of the sad truths about life is that heartbreak is going to find you. No matter what you do, you can't hide from it. Heartbreak is sneaky and sinister, and delights in surprise attacks. And if that were all there was to this life, we would never make it through.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But it's not.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because there is also joy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And joy is how we survive.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So go on and grab it. Grab the joy, wherever you can find it. Don't save it for special occasions, gathering dust like the good china. Don't wait to feel it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Grab the joy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Soak it all in. Then squeeze out every drop you can and spread it around. Share it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Celebrate the joys, big or small, no matter when they come or how long they may be here for.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Celebrate them with all you've got.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because those joys are what get you through the heartbreak. And when you're going through that heartbreak and you feel like it will never end, you need to know that there is another side.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You need to remember that once there was joy, sweet, sweet joy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And that there will be again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Most definitely, there will be again.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Audrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15067078352280425751noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1029844825273541809.post-88241627498857640892012-10-21T01:07:00.002-07:002015-02-06T19:48:58.504-08:00Circumcision: a question that should never have been asked<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg3aOi3w09wY-3WgY614fVAVE6uzrkLNWa4g6aW1RmVwGoL9nH5qwJ8zRdmohnWQDZ0n6jcf0bxaVoHpyv-f2GD0V0ln__sd1fGCGU6sAsCqun2jHxq1yXKn1l2Yf_dcOvFIQdAjSCqjkq/s1600/DSCN1805.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg3aOi3w09wY-3WgY614fVAVE6uzrkLNWa4g6aW1RmVwGoL9nH5qwJ8zRdmohnWQDZ0n6jcf0bxaVoHpyv-f2GD0V0ln__sd1fGCGU6sAsCqun2jHxq1yXKn1l2Yf_dcOvFIQdAjSCqjkq/s320/DSCN1805.JPG" height="251" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Throughout the beginning of my first pregnancy,</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I firmly believed I
was carrying a girl. I mean, I would have bet money on it. At our 20 week
ultrasound we discovered that he was a boy. After my surprise wore off, it didn't take long until the question I had been hoping to avoid by having a girl
came up: were we going to circumcise him?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll tell you that
my initial reaction was “no way!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How
could I do that to my baby? And why? Why would I remove something he was born
with as if it were a birth defect? If I would have just stuck with those
initial feelings, I wouldn’t be writing this today. But sadly, I didn’t.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did what most new
moms do when trying to make this decision: first, I asked my doctor. He wasn’t
very helpful. He basically told us that the choice between doing it and not
doing it was like six of one, and a half dozen of another. Looking back on it
now, I cringe at how little information he gave us, and I can’t believe that he
considered what little he did give us to be informed consent. Not one word
about the functions of the foreskin. Not one word about the thousands of nerve
endings we would be removing from our son’s most sensitive body part. Not one
bit about how the procedure is done. I did ask him about the pain and he
assured me that he uses an anesthetic. He implied that the baby would not feel
any pain. This made me feel a little better.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, I asked my
friends. I hate to say it, but my friends were all from a pretty small bubble
that really all thought the same thing. The consensus from pretty much everyone
I talked to was that uncircumcised penises were dirty and looked “gross” and of
course they were going to have it done. Some had sons and had already had it
done to them. I tried to get more detailed information as to why they had
chosen this for their sons, but really just got that they thought it was
cleaner and looked nicer. And I have to admit, deep down, I thought the same
thing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then finally, I
asked my husband. Being from a family that chose circumcision for their sons
and growing up in the same culture that convinced me and my friends that uncut
penises were gross, of course he wanted to have it done to our son. I think we
kind of believed that ridiculous notion that a son’s penis should look like his
father’s (I look back on that thinking now, and I can’t believe I bought in to
that nonsense).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My precious baby
boy was born soon after in the middle of the night by emergency cesarean
section after the monitors showed his heart rate dropping too low. I was very shaken by the whole thing.
My doctor was not on call that night, so one of his partners performed the
surgery. It was pretty bad. I was totally scared. I was vomiting from the drugs.
No one said a word to me. They just talked amongst themselves about stupid
stuff.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was so sick
afterwards. I continued to vomit and feel horribly nauseous for another 12
hours. And I was in so much pain. I felt like I had been run over by a truck
and then dragged for miles. I couldn’t believe it. But I was so excited to
finally have my baby, and so excited to be a momma. I held him for the first time
in the recovery room. I couldn’t open my eyes without throwing up, so I just
held him and talked to him. I told him that I had been waiting for him for such
a long time, and I loved him so much. I told him that I was his momma and that
I would take care of him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was feeling
somewhat better by the next day. At least the room had stopped spinning. That’s
when they came in to take him to be circumcised. I honestly don’t remember too
much about it. I was probably still too drugged. I don’t remember anyone
talking to me about it. I don’t remember signing anything. What I do remember,
however was me handing him over to them. I remember it because right before I
did, I had this feeling that it was wrong, that I didn’t want to do it. I
didn’t want to give him to them. But I did. How I wish I could go back to that
very moment and say “No! You cannot have him!” But I didn’t listen to that
voice inside me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My husband and I
waited anxiously in my room for what seemed like forever. Finally they brought
him back. I will never forget what he looked like. I can’t even describe it. I
asked the nurse what was wrong with him. “What happened? Was he crying?” I
asked her. “Oh… yea, a little” she said sheepishly. I could tell it was way
more than a little. “Well, why was he crying?” I asked. “My doctor said with
the anesthetic, he wouldn’t feel it!“ I told her, getting pretty upset. She
looked at me and said “Oh your doctor isn’t here today. The on-call doctor did it. He
doesn’t use any anesthetic.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He doesn’t use any anesthetic. </i> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> I wanted
to throw up. I couldn’t believe what I had just done to my boy. I can’t even
express how horrible I felt. Here I was with my first baby, my first pregnancy.
I had eaten everything healthy. I had given up caffeine and diet Cokes, sushi,
margaritas and soft cheeses. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I held my
breath as I walked by people who were smoking. I went to all of my prenatal
appointments. I took all kinds of vitamins. I went to childbirth classes and
did prenatal yoga. I planned for a natural, drug-free, peaceful birth. And none
of it mattered now. In my very first test as a mom to this baby, I had failed
him. He didn’t care about any of those other things. All he knew was that I had
let them hurt him. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t even tell
you how much I wanted to hurt that doctor. I saw him pass by in the hall and I
wanted to jump on him and beat the crap out of him. (Thank goodness my
ignorance kept me from knowing all that he had just done to him, or I might
very well have) I couldn’t understand how anyone, much less a doctor who is
supposed to help people, could do that to a defenseless baby. I couldn’t
imagine how much my baby must have been hurting, and screaming for me. And I
was sitting here in this room just waiting as they tortured him. It was
horrible.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon the time came
for the nurse to show us how to care for the wound. Where his sweet little baby
penis used to be was what looked like a red, raw stump. I saw it and the first
thought that popped into my mind was that it looked like something that is not
supposed to be exposed. It looked to me like an organ that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">needed</i> to be covered. I had no idea that during babyhood and
childhood, the foreskin is literally fused to the head of the penis, just like
your fingernail is fused to your finger. This protects the penis from
contamination from feces and urine and allows the penis to continue to grow and
mature until the connection naturally separates on its own sometime before
adolescence. This keeps it protected and safe until it is needed for sex. In
order to circumcise a baby, they have to rip apart that connection, just like
you would rip a fingernail off of a finger. This is what the doctor is doing when he
sticks the metal probe down into the tip of the penile opening and forces it
around to the other side. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He is
physically ripping apart that membrane.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I left the hospital
the next day. I was so happy to finally be a mom, so excited to be bringing my
baby home. But deep inside, I already doubted my abilities.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over the next few
days I continued to care for the wound like the nurse showed us. I did
everything I was supposed to, but I could tell it still hurt him. Every time he
peed or pooped in his diaper, he would cry. Every time I had to change him I
would have to mess with it some more. I had to clean it off, and clean off any poop
that had gotten onto it. This was not an easy thing to do because after a
circumcision is done, a “ring” of foreskin is left (to allow for growth and
because when they are so little, it’s hard to tell how much their adult penis
will need to expand comfortably. Babies who have every bit taken off, called a
tight circumcision, can grow to have very painful erections). The space between
this “ring” and the head (glans) would collect anything and everything it came
into contact with; stray clothing strings, stray hair, poop. It would get stuck
in all the tiny folds and behind the head. This is partly due to the fact that
this area of the penis is similar to a mucus membrane, like the inside of your
mouth or eyelids. It is meant to be moist and lubricated. It is meant to be
covered and protected by the foreskin. This is nature’s way of ensuring the
sensitivity is preserved, and helps to keep any foreign matter away. When it’s
not covered and is exposed, it seems to actually attract stuff. I had to pull
back all his little bits and clean out every part. This was not easy to do on
an open wound. He cried at every diaper change. It obviously hurt him. Looking
back now, I don’t know why we thought it wouldn’t. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Almost his entire penis was an open, raw
wound.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a few days, I
started to notice that it didn’t look quite right. It looked crooked or
something. I had a follow up scheduled with my OB a few days later, so I
decided to mention it to him. At the end of my appointment at his office, I
asked him to take a look. I mentioned how it didn’t look quite right to me,
like they had left some of the foreskin attached to his glans still.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apparently, what happened was when they did
his circumcision, they left a larger amount of foreskin on the left side than
on the right. This part of foreskin had reattached to the side and top of his
glans. I learned this later, however. As soon as my OB saw my baby’s penis,
without telling me anything, explaining anything, or much less asking if he
could, and without so much as a thought to the pain that it would cause my
little guy, he grabbed hold of the area and physically ripped the separation
apart. AGAIN. My son screamed like I had never heard him before. It immediately
started bleeding. During all of this crying and bleeding, was when my doctor
decided to tell us what he had just done and why. I just stood there in shock.
I could not believe I had just let them hurt him for a second time. I was
speechless. I stared at him in disbelief at what he had just done. We left that
appointment and I never <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>went back there again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By this point I was
just sick with regret. I worried that it was done wrong. I worried that it
would never look right. I worried that he would have to have it done again. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wished I had never messed with it. I mean,
my God, it was his <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">penis! </i>And I was
doing all kinds of stuff to it. This is not a body part you want to mess
up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told myself right then and there
as we drove home that I was done messing with my son’s penis. I never should
have started. Whatever else needed to be done to it, would be his decision to
make.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt worse than ever now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had the usual new mom anxieties, but to
know that I had disfigured my son, whom I had just barely met, was horrible.
Every time I changed his diaper, I wanted to cry. Sometimes I did. I felt like
a total failure as a mom. It hurt our relationship as well. I had difficulties
bonding with him. I loved him and adored being a mom, but I felt like he should
have gotten a better one.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon afterward, I
began to research circumcision. I mean, real research, not just silly fluff
pieces in parenting magazines. I read studies. I read medical journal articles.
I learned that the U.S. is the only country (besides Israel and small parts of
Africa) that circumcises. I was shocked. I thought everybody did it. I learned that the claim that circumcision prevents penile cancer is such a falsehood that the American Cancer Society had even released a statement asking everyone to quit saying it was true. I learned
how painful the procedure actually is by watching a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bXVFFI76ff0" target="_blank">YouTube video of an actual circumcision being performed</a>. I was absolutely sickened by that
baby’s screams, and even more so by the doctor’s complete and utter lack of
concern at the torture he was inflicting. His callousness was what really stuck
with me. I just didn’t understand how they could do it. Doctors spend <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">years</i> studying the human body. They <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">know</i> how painful it must be. They take
oaths to <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/georganne-chapin/circumcision-task-force-report_b_1919711.html" target="_blank">“First, do no harm.”</a>, and here they were, cutting off fully
functioning, healthy body parts, apparently oblivious to the person screaming in
pain right in front of them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was during this
research that I finally found out about <a href="http://www.drmomma.org/2009/09/functions-of-foreskin-purposes-of.html" target="_blank">the functions of the foreskin</a>. I had no
idea that the part of the penis that everyone was cutting off actually has very
important purposes. And it was most definitely not just a flap of extra skin. It
had so many different specialized functions, 20,000 nerve endings, specialized cells
that actually <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fought</i> infection… and
much more. There was a part of me that didn’t want to know. I wanted to stop
reading. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember when it all finally came to me; the
realization of all that I had actually taken from my son. I was sitting in
front of the computer holding him in my arms. I just remember thinking how
badly I wanted a do-over; how badly I wished I could go back and change things.
I had spent more time researching which stroller to buy than I had spent
researching whether or not to circumcise my son. I had relied on the opinions
of people who knew little more about circumcision than I did, which I now
realized, was next to nothing. I was absolutely sick with regret. We all know
how strong a mother’s love for her child is. Mothers will easily give their
lives to save their child. Well, at that moment I would have easily traded a
body part of my own to get his back. I literally would have.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had so many
emotions. I was shocked. I was speechless. I was hurt, and hurting. I was<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> angry.</i> Why did I not know all of this
information <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">before? </i>Why did no one
tell me? Why did <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">my own doctor</i> not
tell me, especially when <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I had asked
him? </i>Why on Earth did I listen to other people, who knew nothing about
circumcision other than the fact that they liked the look of it better? It was
unbelievable. I was so angry with myself. I thought I was smarter than that,
but still, I fell for it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon afterward, I
learned I was expecting another boy. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
there it was again, THE question: Would we circumcise him? It may seem after
all you’ve read that my decision was easy, but I will not lie to you, it wasn’t.
I knew in my heart that it was an unnecessary, harmful procedure, but there
were so many other things to consider now. I had one son that was circumcised;
did the other one have to be as well? I mean, didn’t they have to “match”? If
we decided not to circumcise him, would my second son feel out of place as the
only intact male in the house? Would my husband feel differently toward either
of them? Would either one feel like an outsider? Or be traumatized and scarred
for life? What if I had a third son, or a fourth? Would I just keep circumcising and circumcising just to make sure I had a matching set? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> I thought and thought about the future ramifications. How would I
explain to my boys why they looked different from each other? And there it was- the thought that deep down had been worrying me the most: How would I explain? How would I tell my grown baby, my
precious son, what I let them do to him? In leaving my second son whole, I
would have to address their difference; I would be saying “I chose differently
this time because what I did to you was wrong”. That thought killed me. Could I
admit to myself, to my son, to the world, that I had made such a mistake? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> It would
be so easy to avoid all of these questions. It would be so easy to just have my
second son circumcised as well. I wouldn’t have to confront any of it. Except, now
I knew better. I knew what I had done to him. I knew I was wrong. And I knew I couldn’t
pretend I was right just to make myself feel better.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> Oh, how I wrestled and wrestled with this decision. Then,
one day, I suddenly realized that I was struggling to answer this question that
should have never been asked. His penis was healthy. His foreskin was not
diseased. It was not harming him, or threatening his life. It was a normal, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">healthy, </i>functioning part of his body,
and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">it was not my place to decide whether
to cut it off or not;</i> it was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">his.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i></span>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> And that was it for me. I was done. I decided that when they
were old enough to decide for themselves what they wanted to do with their
bodies, I would be there to support them. But it needed to be their decision. I
didn’t have to say I was wrong, or this is right; I didn’t have to prove to
anyone that one way was better than the other. I had to simply say, "It’s not my
decision to make". And that’s it. It was amazing how simple and logical <i>and freeing</i> this
realization was.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My son was born soon
after and we kept him whole. The questions I spent so many months agonizing
over have been a complete non-issue. Honestly, the biggest thing I’ve noticed
was how easy it was to take care of him. There is no special cleaning of an
intact baby required. At birth and for many years afterward, the foreskin is fused to the head of the penis. It does not retract. This means that
there is nothing extra you as a parent will have to do to clean or take care of
your intact son. Nothing. All you do is wipe it off like you would a finger. My
intact son was easier to clean than my circumcised son. Seriously. And he was
far easier to clean than my daughter.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> My boys see each others' bodies all the time and have never mentioned a difference. I think they just don't expect each other to look the same; their hair is different, their faces are different; and both look different from their sister. Neither one of them looks like their dad. And frankly, I'd be pretty creeped out if they did. They are little boys. And they look like little boys, and think like little boys and don't expect (or want) to "match" anyone. They are perfectly happy just to be who they are. When the time comes that they are old enough to understand, or if they start asking questions, I will explain. I will apologize to my son, and I will pray that he forgives me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you are
considering circumcision, I urge you; please do your research first. Please take the time to learn about what it is you would be removing from your son. I
have links to some really great articles below. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> The question of whether or not to circumcise your son is a question that is, unfortunately, posed to the parents of most newborn boys. But it is a question that should never have been asked. And </span>remember, you can always just refuse to
answer it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Click here for some great info:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> <a href="http://www.drmomma.org/2010/01/are-you-fully-informed.html" target="_blank">Are you fully informed? Tons of great info.</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.moralogous.com/2012/03/01/a-brief-history-of-the-foreskin-and-circumcision/" target="_blank">A brief history of circumcision</a>-do you know why circumcision was started in the U.S? It's probably not what you think!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="http://saving-babies.blogspot.com/2011/06/its-boy.html" target="_blank">Circumcision myths</a> -see if you've been told to circumcise for these reasons.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/moral-landscapes/201109/myths-about-circumcision-you-likely-believe" target="_blank">Myths about circumcision you likely believe - a great series from Psychology Today</a></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="http://saving-babies.blogspot.com/2012/06/we-need-to-talk-about-looking-like-dad.html" target="_blank">Looking like dad </a> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.thewholenetwork.org/14/post/2012/06/how-do-i-talk-to-my-husband-about-circumcision.html" target="_blank">How do I talk to my husband about circumcision?</a> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.thewholenetwork.org/" target="_blank">The Whole Network -lots of great info</a></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="http://questioncircumcision.weebly.com/index.html" target="_blank">Question Circumcision- a great informative site</a> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.noharmm.org/christianparent.htm" target="_blank">Circumcision and the Christian Parent</a> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.drmomma.org/2010/07/biblical-circumcision-information.html" target="_blank">Biblical Circumcision Information</a> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="http://questioncircumcision.weebly.com/regret2nd-chances.html" target="_blank">Many other stories of circumcision regret</a> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span id="goog_1855136848"></span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/"></a><span id="goog_1855136849"></span></span></div>
Audrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15067078352280425751noreply@blogger.com51tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1029844825273541809.post-27376266773651498122012-10-08T22:21:00.000-07:002012-10-08T22:23:44.866-07:0010 ways Camping is like Childbirth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://static.someecards.com/someecards/usercards/1335890306526_1154320.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="http://static.someecards.com/someecards/usercards/1335890306526_1154320.png" width="320" /></a> </div>
<ol>
<li>You have to pack, prepare, and stock up on provisions.</li>
<li>You work way too hard.</li>
<li>You're dirty and sweaty.</li>
<li>It can be guaranteed that someone will be swearing.</li>
<li>No one gets any sleep. </li>
<li>There's awkward pooping involved.</li>
<li>You wonder how you ever thought this would be a good idea.</li>
<li>That first shower afterwards is heavenly!</li>
<li>You vow to never, ever do this again...</li>
<li>But eventually, you forget all of that and start to plan the next one.</li>
</ol>
Audrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15067078352280425751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1029844825273541809.post-4870743208976882712012-07-31T23:50:00.000-07:002012-10-08T21:24:01.302-07:00Crazed Pooping Monkeys<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Hubby and I were driving in the car the other day with all the kiddos while trying to hold down a conversation amid all the random shrieking and howling from the backseat. People without kids have no idea what they're missing, we mused aloud.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">It was then that I thought of the perfect way to give them some practice. Everyone contemplating having children should buy a very large, loud bird that will perch on their shoulder day and night. Then, they must go about their daily business while enduring the incessant squawking in their ear and pecking at their head.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Hubby concurred, but replied that he felt a monkey would be a better representation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.studentsoftheworld.info/sites/society/img/30067_CrazyMonkey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="http://www.studentsoftheworld.info/sites/society/img/30067_CrazyMonkey.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">I have to say that after some thought I have to agree, for two reasons. One, a monkey will periodically jump down just long enough to completely trash your house, and two, it can be pretty much guaranteed that it will poop on your floor at least once.</span></div>
Audrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15067078352280425751noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1029844825273541809.post-73257012834231386952012-07-31T21:52:00.000-07:002012-10-27T11:56:58.990-07:0039 years old. Where I stand.<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">There's nothing like the 39th birthday to really </span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">send the message home that you're getting old. Well, here I am. 39. One year left until I'm officially in my forties. Wow. What a trip.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I don't know, I don't really mind too much. I actually like getting older in a way. I look back at my twenties and think "wow , was I dumb!"</span> <span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Hell, I was pretty stupid in my thirties too</span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> if I want to be honest about it. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I just read a quote from Muhammed Ali, I believe. He said "Someone who thinks the same at 50 as he did at 20 has just wasted thirty years of his life." So true. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I've made many mistakes. I have lots of regrets. Lots.</span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> But I truly believe that you learn from your mistakes more than your successes. I am who I am today because of my past. And ultimately, I really like who I am. Does that mean that if I had the chance I wouldn't change a thing? No. I would. There are a few things that I desperately wish I could change, even though they are probably the things I learned the most from. But what can you do? You grow older. You grow wiser. You realize that there are lots of things in life that you have yet to learn, but also, that there are some things that without a doubt you are sure of.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So without further ado, </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I am 39 years old. And this is where I stand:</span><br />
<br />
<ul style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<li><span style="font-size: small;">What goes around comes around.</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">The only thing better than a sleeping baby curled up on
your chest is when you get to nap too.</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">If Heaven has a smell, it must be that of an orange
tree in bloom.</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">I am blessed to live in the best country on the planet.
And those that put their lives on the line to defend our
freedoms are better people than I will ever be.</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">There is absolutely a God, and I have seen him at least
three times.</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Killing is killing-whether it's an old man, a baby yet to
be born, or a death row inmate; or whether it's carried out by a thug in
the street, a doctor in a clinic or a court of law.</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Motherhood is hands down the hardest
job I have ever had. And still I would not trade it for anything.</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Birth is safest when it is not messed with.</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">A day that begins and ends with me lying next to my
husband and little ones is a great one.</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Breastmilk is not just "best" but is the
normal and natural food for a human. And my child has a right to eat the food that is designed
for her without having to hide in the bathroom or under a blanket.</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">No one should have the right to remove or alter another person's genitals without their consent. No one. Not even parents.</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">When in doubt, love MORE.</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Stairs and I just do not get along.</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">There is no better sound on Earth than your baby's
first giggles.</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">I will never be as good of a wife or mom as I want to
be. But, I will wake up to each new day trying.</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Even though I don't have all of the answers, that
doesn't mean that I don't have some of them.</span></li>
</ul>
<ul style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" type="disc">
</ul>
Audrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15067078352280425751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1029844825273541809.post-46372300782808346572011-05-26T20:09:00.000-07:002012-10-20T19:54:47.606-07:00Choices<span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">My cousin passed away a few weeks ago, and she's been on my mind. She was young, beautiful and had her whole life ahead of her. But it was taken from her because of one stupid choice.</span><br style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I've been thinking about choices and what they mean in our lives.</span><br style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We are faced with choices everyday of our lives. Some are easy. Some are hard. Some seem easy on the surface, but turn out to be life changing.</span><br style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We make choices everywhere- where we go, what we do. Each time we drive a car we make countless choices. Do we run that red light, ignore that stop sign or cut off that driver? Any one of these choices could end our lives.</span><br style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I shudder to think of all the bad choices I made as a young person; so many things that could have brought me great harm, but for some reason, didn't.</span><br style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I thought about calling her a few months ago, but worried about what I'd say and how it would be perceived. We weren't too close lately. Our differences in age and place in life separated us in the way it seems to for too many people. I prayed for her. She was on my mind a lot. But I didn't call. And however unintentional, that was my choice.</span><br style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Her death was a total shock. I still can't really believe it. And I think at least in part because of it, I'm realizing that there are some things in life that are too important to worry about what people will think of you. Some things are much bigger than your fear of embarrassment, or your pride, or your desire to be liked. <i>Some things just need to be said</i>.</span><br style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So here, for my little cousin,</span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eq29Owv_8yU&feature=related" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> this is what I wish I would have told you.</a></span>Audrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15067078352280425751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1029844825273541809.post-25361302323853557362010-11-12T20:15:00.000-08:002012-10-20T19:56:58.960-07:00Life is short, hurry to be kind.<div class="mbl notesBlogText clearfix">
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I visited a friend this weekend that has recently lost her little boy. And I am sitting here right now thinking about her and crying terribly. The pain that she is feeling is just indescribable. She misses that little guy so much.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We dress our kids in the morning and just assume that we will tuck them into bed that night. Most days follow that predictable pattern. But the scary thing is, some don't. Some days that start out quite innocently, can turn into nightmares right before our eyes. We think (hope) it only happens to other people. But it doesn't. It happens to anyone. It happened to her. It happened to my own parents.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">There is no horror that I can think of that would be worse for me than to hold my child and watch helplessly as he died. I don't know how I would survive that. I don't know how she will survive it. I don't know how my parents survived it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">There was a park bench near where we used to live that was inscribed with the words "life is short, hurry to be kind". I have always loved that. And it's not just "be kind", but "<i>hurry</i> to be kind". Hurry. We hurry so much in our days doing ( in the grand scheme of things) meaningless stuff. We hurry to work, and then hurry home. We hurry to the grocery store, to make dinner, to bathe the kids and get them in bed. All so that we'll have a little more time to do some more stuff we're in such a hurry to do. What we ought to be doing is hurrying to do the truly important stuff.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Hurry to hug your kids. Hurry to show them every day over and over again how much they are loved, and enjoyed, and <i>cherished.</i> Hurry to speak kindly to them. Hurry to touch them only gently and with love. Hurry to kiss your spouse. Hurry to ignore his dirty socks on the floor <i>next to </i>the hamper. Hurry to call your dad. Hurry to go to lunch with your mom. Hurry to stop and talk to a neighbor before you close the garage door. Hurry to ask for forgiveness. Hurry to forgive.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We don't know how long <i>any </i>of these people will be in our lives.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Or how long we will be in theirs.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And if you get a minute, please say a prayer for my friend and her sweet little boy. And for his brother and sisters who miss him and don't understand why he left.</span></div>
</div>
Audrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15067078352280425751noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1029844825273541809.post-23836097288088706932010-10-19T22:16:00.000-07:002012-10-20T19:59:29.740-07:00I have no idea what I'm doing...<span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">This is my very first blog post! Woo hoo! Hopefully, I'll figure out how all of this stuff works soon.</span></span>Audrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15067078352280425751noreply@blogger.com0