Spilled Milk and Wet Kisses: Am I Enough?

Monday, February 13, 2017

Am I Enough?

My identity was shaken to the core after the stroke. I lost the "me" of who I knew I was. Trying to redefine myself in this hard knocks life after burying and mourning my former self; was so incredibly difficult and sad. I hate talking about that part of my stroke recovery because it brings me back to such ugly demons. Due to the severity of my stroke, Right hemi middle cerebral artery infarct( for those of who medically minded individuals), and the challenge of raising four very small needy, humans AND growing an even smaller and even more needier human being in my womb. I had my sister in law move in full time to "mother" my children 2,4,6, & 8. The level of noise would cause me to vomit, become irritable, unable to care for the four, and the need to sequester myself in my room -alone. A far cry from my former life. Krista, my sister in law, cooked all our meals, changed all the diapers, broke up all the squabbles, did the laundry, car pooled met kids to bday parties, acted as a mediator to two very hurting humans ( my husband and I), and slept on a futon for over two years-now if that doesn't speak sacrifice, I think we will be receiving her chiro bills for her lifetime :)

Where do I fit? Everyone moved at lightning speed around me, I couldn't stand for more than 15 seconds without getting winded and an adult chaperone nearby. No one needed me for making them a meal, unloading a dishwasher, driving them to a library class, homeschooling, playing games(my brain could nor comprehend basic instructions and if I tried too her I would vomit). I was unable to schedule a dentist appointment, could not swing the kids as the park, my husband held my hand as I shakily went around a teeny, itsy, bitsy , neighborhood square(did i mention it was tiny (pre stroke I worked out hardcore DAILY)).

I'm useless; I felt on more than one occasion. Ben and I cried daily at our broken, shattered lives, to have and to hold was a little more difficult now... we were 29 and 30.

I remember the joy I felt when the kids sat on my lap, hugged me, said "I love you." After returning home, my voice was a whisper bc of paralyzed vocal chords and totally flat.. but it took all the strength in me to read my four year old a story... and you know what?! We both cried together... bc she saw me as valuable as her strong Mama who fought to come back home and love on her. I sobbed. I have value not in what I do but in who I am to God, Ben, and the 5 small humans who call me "Mama"

They have never asked me why I never unloaded the dishwasher for months, but the oldest one recalls the fear and uncertainty of my time in the hospital.

This life that God gave me, that Satan tried to destroy. Will be a living testimony to how great my God is- I didn't say it would always be beautiful... but what satan meant for evil, God can turn to good!