Mommy, I need you!

So today is Mother's Day. For a few days, I have been happily anticipating the special treatment this day would bring; homemade card from my favorite kiddos, a chance to sleep in, a good meal, a chance to sleep in, maybe some flowers from my adoring husband, and oh yeah, did I mention a chance to sleep in?

Being a mom is tough, often thankless work, so one day a year where it is all about me is a nice thought!

Well, here's the thing about being a mom: it's never all about me.

About 6:00 this morning my dear darling daughter woke up vomiting and dry heaving; all she wanted was me. Her pitiful cries of "Mommy I need you!" made me completely forget that today is Mother's Day, or that I had gone to bad last night happily secure in the fact that I would be sleeping in this morning.

I was almost surprised when my husband reminded me what day it was. How could I have forgotten what only hours ago seemed so important?

Well, I am a mother, and when my kid needs me, nothing else really exists.

I think God is using my vocation to purge me of selfish desires. Responding to the I-Need-Yous in my life allows me to live a life focused outward instead of inward. The sleepless nights and endless demands for my time, my body, my attention, force me to rely on God. Every time my little ones say, "Mommy I need you!" I have an opportunity to grow in holiness by saying, "Father, I need you!"

So even though I very much appreciated the beautiful card my husband & babies made, and really enjoyed the flowers my son "picked out," even though the lunch my adoring husband cooked was delicious, the best gift I received this Mother's Day was being woken up really early to the sound of my vocation calling: "Mommy, I need you!"

Happy Mother's Day to all of you!!

Being Supportive

My mother in law will one day be the patron saint of waiting rooms.

Of my wife's immediate family, three members have had one or more brain surgeries. Her father had a blood vessel wrapped around a nerve, her brother had a recurring brain tumor, and of course she has the AVM referred to in her last post.

Like I said, patron saint of waiting rooms.

Some days I feel like I'm starting down that path too. There was a period of time that started shortly after Erin and I began courting where it seemed that we were in the hospital or emergency room once a semester. That was, by the way, my fault. I prayed in front of the tabernacle that God would try me, to prove my worth as the future husband of this woman, to purify me.

Yeah... Those of you familiar with how God's sense of humor works already know that was a dangerous request.

So yeah, a big part of my path to husbandhood has been learning to be supportive. I'll be honest, it's not easy.

Not the sitting in the waiting room, that's just boring.

Not the caring for her, fetching for her, that's just time consuming.

Not being the center of attention - that's the hard part.

There, I said it. The hardest part about not being the person at the center of the crisis is that I'm not the center of attention.

Sick, right?

There's an interesting article I've seen that relates the "Circle of Kvetching." Look it up if you like, it's not badly done, but it's also only a very general guide. The main takeaway of it is this: draw a series of concentric rings, put the person in crisis at the center, and arrange people by their proximity to and how much a part of the crisis they are. Comfort in, dump out. Lather, rinse, repeat.

It's not a perfect analogy, for example the nursing 1 year old's needs outweigh almost everything else now that Erin's out of the woods. That poor boy has had to wake up too many times without his mommy around, he gets special treatment. Still, in general, it's a good rule of thumb.

For example, I can tell you all about how long my day was, and how hard it is to watch the doctors screw pins into my wife's head to hold on the metal ring that she then had to wear for almost 10 hours as she waited for the procedure. To the woman who had those pins holding on the 7 pound ring, I ask if I can ger her anything.

We have been very blessed to be surrounded by people who just intuitively get this. For example, when we had to go the hospital this morning for some followup, our friend who lives across the street ran over at quarter to 5 to watch the kids (thanks HL!). Tonight, we had supper delivered by another batch of friends who just wanted to help out (thanks K&A W!). To top that all off, there has been a tremendous outpouring of prayers and encouragement from family and friends over the past few days.

So yeah, it's not easy to be supportive, especially when you're the one right there, so I would like to thank all of the people who have encouraged and prayed for me through this, because your prayers help me to be the support that I need to be for Erin. Thank you for letting me kvetch, to blow off steam, to ease a little of my pressure. My day wasn't the worst, but letting off that pressure has helped me to be the release valve for the woman who really needs it, and so I thank you - your support has helped me to be more supportive.

But seriously, I'm more than willing to leave the record for time in waiting rooms to my mother in law.

The Blessings of a Sinus Infection

While I was pregnant with Michael, along with the normal discomfort of pregnancy I was blessed with a nasty sinus infection that caused me to feel dizzy, have a nasty headache, and almost faint.

Now, when you are pregnant those symptoms really freak out the doctors. When you have a brain bleed in your medical history, they freak out enough to order a CAT scan.

I've had CAT scans twice in the last 7 years; once because I fell, and once because of a car accident. However, in the last year or so they have added another angle that they scan, and because of this additional angle the techs saw something which let them know that the shadow which had been seen before was not scar tissue from a previous brain bleed, but a pretty substantial AVM (look it up if you really want to fear for my life) that by some miracle has been asymptomatic for years & years.

After Michael was born, we started the long process of figuring out what to do. Eventually we came to Iowa City, and while the neurologist was kind of an idiot who focused way too much on his disgust at my desire for more children, thankfully I also met 3 wonderful doctors who explained my condition really well, who treated me with compassion, and who have developed a treatment plan that we hope is going to allow me to live a long, healthy life.

The neurosurgeon has said this plan of attack is what he would recommend if I were his sister, and "that is how I view you." The doctor who is treating me today held Michael on his lap through most of the consultation, and as a father of 4 did not view our desire for more children with utter contempt.

So today I am sitting in the waiting room room waiting for them to pierce my head with thorns screw a ring onto my head and shoot the offending vessels with lasers gamma rays (sorry Jeremiah and Adam, I fixed it).

Some of you know this and some of you don't. If I haven't told you it's not because I don't value your prayers or friendship, but honestly I probably didn't want to bring the mood down. So consider yourself told now, and next time you see me it is totally fine to talk about this - I don't mind!

I wish I could say I've handled this all with grace and confidence. Even though I am confident in this treatment, and I do totally rely on God, there have been dark moments when the thought of leaving my children has reduced me to tears. I have spent a lot of time reassuring my loved ones that I'm going to be fine, and while in all likelihood I will be, there have been moments where I fear I won't be.

But you know what's really freaking AMAZING about being Catholic? The Sacraments!

I went to confession yesterday, and I prayed before our Lord in the Eucharist. My confession was amazing actually, even though I was underwhelmed by the priest, the penance, and the place. But the validity of the sacraments, thanks be to God, doesn't depend on the holiness of the priest. The Donatists were wrong 1600 years ago.

I laid bare my soul, the priest told me that in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, "I absolve you," and by the grace of God, through His Church, I now go to face this trial in the friendship of my Savior.

So this morning, as I wait, I am making my morning offering. I offer all of my fear, my nervousness, and any pain or discomfort I will feel today to Christ, for all of you now reading this. May my suffering through Christ, comfort you today.

If nothing else, take this as a reminder to get your butt into a confessional!