Stop. Wait a minute.

Don't worry I'm not going to bust out into the chorus of Uptown Funk. Though my boys love the song.

Nope, instead I'm going to talk about baggage for a minute. Baggage. We all have it. To some to degree. In some form. Emotional baggage. Physical manifestations of our baggage. Baggage.

This week I was working on lightening my load. Because really my baggage doesn't affect my past or the person I thought shoved it into my bag, it affects me now and into the future. Including the future generation.

So anyway, I was given homework. Good thing this homework is a lot more enjoyable than other school work I've had in the past! Along with some reading assignments, I was given two tasks. First, keep a gratitude journal of some sort and write down the little things. Second, do something self-care everyday.

I have been practicing paying more attention and expressing gratitude for the little things around me, but I'm terrible at regularly recording it. I don't know why, but I get stuck and just can't manage to put the words onto paper or screen. So I'm embracing that challenge because there is something to putting down in words. And here's how I'm going to do it... I desired something easy. I don't necessarily want to sit down at the computer to blog it each night, but I wanted to share my day to day with you too. To share my little stories and not just my big ones. So I'm headed to Instagram with this goal. Each day I am going to stop and wait a minute and notice.  I'm am going to start by finding 3 things each day, and at least one of which I will snap a picture of or of something that represents it. Then at the end of each day, I will post on Instagram (and I'll share with Facebook too). I will hashtag all of my pictures with #mindfulmoment (it does already exist). So then you can look them up and see them. AND anyone so inclined to join me in this challenge, please do! Add the same hashtag, and I'll be sure to check in on you too!

I'm terrible about taking a few minutes for me. It really is something I need to work on, and I'm guessing most of you do too. So each day I'm going to do the same thing with a little snippet of what I did to take care of myself... whether it was a shower (Don't worry I'm totally G rated, with maybe an occasional borderline PG... what can I say, diaper bums are cute!), wearing make up (hello, blue moon), reading a book, enjoying a cup of tea (Good Earth Sweet and Spicy, anyone?)... or whatever. I will hashtag all of those #selfcare (again already a hashtag). Hashtag it up with me and share what you do!

Let's share all of our story... the big and little moments. Help keep me accountable. Join me on Instagram at lachellebarnes. Let's find the light to dwell in together.

And the next post in my mini series is coming. Loss shows up in the form of relationship heartbreak. Check back soon and thanks for journeying with me!

Loss (A mini series) Part 2

I'm not sure how so much time has passed since I last posted. SO this is very over due. My first post on loss lacks hindsight. I still don't have it at this point. I don't know the why or the lesson I'm meant to learn yet, but I know eventually I will. But now it's time to rewind the clock and talk about some other losses. Losses that have changed me and have had enough time that I can see the purpose in the pain. It doesn't lessen the loss, but it brings peace, healing, and truth from the loss.

And in advance, I want to thank my dear sweet Aunt RaNae for sharing her pictures and allowing me to tell part of her very personal story as I share mine.

It was December 1988. I was 6 soon to be 7. Not much younger than my second child is now. My Aunt RaNae gave birth to a baby girl, Mary Celestia. A baby girl that would not live. Mary's life was but a few fleeting moments.

My Aunt and Uncle with Mary

From the Hospital

They knew she wouldn't live. From the ultrasound, there was not a shadow of doubt that her body was not built to remain here on earth. When the tragic news was passed on. My grandparents went to work. Grandpa built Mary's little box. And Grandma, a master crocheter, made a blanket for Mary.

Grandpa and Mary's little box

Grandma crocheting Mary's blanket

Once she arrived from and then returned to our Father in Heaven. A funeral was held at our local church building. This is where my memory begins. I come from a big family. My dad is 4 of 13... I'm in the beginning of the grandchild line up. And cousins and family were a big thing growing up. Even in a tragic loss, it was about family. I remember going to the viewing. It was just before the funeral service. I remember climbing up on a little stool or maybe being picked up (but I'm pretty sure there was a stool for us little kids), so I could look into her little box. I remember her lying there in a little white dress and a little white bonnet. Mary was tiny, peaceful, perfect. I remember thinking she looked like a doll. I remember my mom holding my little sister up and telling us about how Mary's body didn't form the way it was supposed to and how she went back to be with Heavenly Father and Jesus.

The funeral services followed. I don't remember words said. But during the short service, the children came to the front of chapel to sing. We sang two songs... Families Can Be Together Forever and Did Jesus Really Live Again. (Click to hear the songs or read the lyrics.) I remember standing there and crying my eyes out. I had a few people beckon me over to them to let me know it was OK if I didn't finish the songs. But in my heart I knew I had to finish. I wanted to finish those songs for her. I needed to finish them for me. I refused to sit down. I remember shaking my head no. The last two lines of Did Jesus Really Live Again are, "Did Jesus really live again After he had died? Oh yes! And so shall I!" As we finished singing the last few words... Oh yes! And so shall!... My heart knew. My soul knew. I was singing the truth. For me, it was a very powerful. I don't think I grasped the magnitude on which I was affected at the time, but I knew. I knew that Mary was back in Heaven with God and that like Jesus Christ I would be resurrected, Mary would be resurrected, we would all be resurrected, and I could and would be with all of my loved ones again. Since then every time I sing that line... that same witness comes. It is real. It is true.

I don't really remember grave side, but I was there. I'm the little girl in the light purple coat and the white stocking hat. I do, however, remember the gravestone eventually placed. It has a little lamb on it. Growing up it was always one of the sites we visited on Memorial Day.

Graveside

 

Mary's resting place

Her death continued to affect me through out my life. In 5th grade, I'm not even sure how, but her death was on my mind. It was feeling hard. I was sad. One of the 5th grade teachers, Mr. Webster, noticed. The teachers had a walk in closet in their rooms, and he also had a sister named Sally that played guitar, wrote music, and sang. He sent me into the closet with one of Sally's songs and some paper to draw and be by myself for a little while. I don't remember much about the song or the picture... I wish I still had the picture. I have no idea what happened to it. The part I do remember was crying and drawing Mary as an angel in Heaven watching over me. I am so grateful for this teacher who was so aware of my needs. I think that is when I truly started processing and letting go ALL of my emotions surrounding her death.

As I continued into teenage life, my Aunt RaNae was an important part of it. She was a leader over the young women at church and was kind of a second mom at times. As I heard her share her stories surrounding Mary and her death... the good and the hard, it helped to fortify and to solidify my own faith. This horrible tragic loss of a innocent baby became one of the pillars of my faith.

It's still hard. Mary would be 28 now. She's still missed. She will always be missed until the reunion. But I'm grateful for Aunt RaNae and Uncle Jim who were willing to bring her into this world anyway. I'm grateful for Mary choosing to come to earth for just a short time to such an imperfect body that couldn't stay. What a huge hard sacrifice for all. But in their willingness to sacrifice so much, my heart was changed and forever altered for the better.  I wouldn't be all of who I am without the experience that Mary brought to our family. So thank you Jim and RaNae. And thank you Mary. You truly have been my little angel watching over me all these years. One of these days, I'll tell you in person. Until then... know that you are loved.

Loss (A mini series) Part 1

I have experienced very few physical, mortal losses in my life. I have never had a miscarriage. I have never had a stillbirth, or lost a child. I have never lost a parent, and all but one of my grandparents are still living. There have been deaths in my extended family, but I don't live close to them. So though, I was sad and heartbroken, it probably didn't feel as raw as it probably should have because I wasn't in the midst of it.

So you're probably wondering why I would write about loss. From the outside, it sure appears that I don't really know much about it, but looks can be deceiving. We all experience heart wrenching, aching, hole in our soul making loss. It's so real; it's almost tangible. It comes in forms common to every human, and yet, it also comes in forms completely unique to an individual. We all experience loss, so let's talk about it. Let's find relief in knowing we are not alone, even when we feel lost in loss.

As I was thinking about doing this, I was going to start my mini series with my earliest memory of loss... true loss. Not just my favorite stuffed animal's disappearance. (Though as a kid that kind of loss can be just as real, so don't brush it off or down play it. Validate the feeling.) It was something that I knew I wanted to get to, but because of events of the day, I'm going to start with where I am at now. Here's me being raw and real in the moment.

Her name is Annalynn Catherine. Aly Rin for short. Originally, we thought about calling our daughter Elizabeth. But as time went on, we decided to give her two family names (all of our boys have family names for their middle name). Annalynn is the combination of the two grandmothers'. My mother-in-law's name is Ann, and my mom's middle name is Lynn. Catherine is her great grandmother. Grandma Cathy as my husband new her, passed away when he was only 5. Though I have never met her, I have always felt a really strong connection to her. I just new she was in heaven watching over our boys and little girl until they could come be in our family.

You're probably thinking... Now wait a minute... HOLD up. I thought you said you have never had a miscarriage or lost a child... It's true. I haven't. So tell me then why my heartbreaks for a child I have never had? I never knew you could experience loss so deeply for someone that hasn't even been conceived, especially when I have not dealt with infertility by any means.

I have 5 amazing, beautiful, wonderful little boys that light up my life. I wouldn't trade the world for them, and yet, I would give up the world for them. Each and everyone is meant to be part of my family. Of that, I have absolutely no doubt in my mind. But each time we got pregnant, I thought maybe it would be my little Aly. And though I always knew that each baby boy was meant for us... I feel like a selfish jerk saying this out loud, but I always felt a little disappointed it wasn't a girl. Each time, I would tell myself... well, maybe next time. But here's another truth... we won't be having anymore biological children (unless there is some major divine intervention because it shouldn't be possible anymore.) It would not be healthy for me (and hence, my family) physically, emotionally, mentally... you name it, to have another baby. So now... there is no maybe next time. At this point in time, financially adoption isn't an option either... though I've thought about it... lots.

I even had a dream after I knew my last baby was another boy and few months before he came. I was at the hospital, I delivered a beautiful healthy boy. Then the doctor says, wait! There's another baby. As he delivers the baby, he announces that the baby is a girl! I am so excited, but then we realize she is a stillbirth. Even in my dreams I wasn't allowed to keep her. I have only told a very few people about this because it was so vivid, and I woke up with the weight of the dream on my heart. It was too personal and too raw to share, but I'm sharing it with you. It was horrible.

 

My sister has one little girl and 4 boys. One of my sister-in-laws has one of each. And I'll be honest, I'm always a little jealous. In my house, we have a square kitchen table that seats 8. There are 7 of us, so with the empty chair my boys will say from time to time that we need one more baby... That they need a sister to sit there. It's like a little knife wound to my heart each time. Even walking past the cute little baby girl clothes can be hard.

I am even beginning to dread the questions, are you going to have more kids, and are you going to try again for a girl? Seriously, don't ask about family status of any kind unless you're the person's bff, and even then proceed with caution. A second piece of advice, don't try to reassure by saying, well at least... fill in the blank. Because I am also really tired of people telling me, well at least you'll get 5 wonderful daughter-in-laws, and you won't have to deal with teenage girls.  Look, I get it. I know no one is intentionally trying to be rude. They are trying to soften the blow and find the positive in the situation. I'm not trying to be offended... and I'm actually not. I appreciate the gesture. But here's the thing... It still stings. IT. IS. NOT. THE. SAME! Even with a really good mother-in-law/daughter-in-law relationship (which I have with mine... LOVE her!), it is not the same as a mother/daughter relationship. It. just. isn't.  

So today one of my other sisters went in for a gender ultrasound for her first baby. She called to tell me the happy news! A beautiful, healthy little girl. I am genuinely so happy for her and her husband. Having a baby is such a miracle. But as I said good bye and hung up the phone with her, I broke down. Luckily, it wasn't too long after that my husband walked in from work because I needed him to hold me. Not only have the tears flowed off and on this evening, but the chatter in my head has begun again.

I know the chatter isn't truth. Isn't reality. But it comes so easily once it starts. The jealous thoughts of why couldn't I have a girl, and why does she get to be lucky enough to get a girl. The unworthy thoughts of God didn't think I was worthy of one His daughters, that He must not trust me enough, that I wouldn't be a good mom to girl because I wouldn't be strong enough (because He only gives us what we are strong enough to handle, right?). The pleading with God thoughts to understand because I was sure eventually she would come. And she hasn't.

Here's the truth. The real truth. My heart yearns for this little girl. There is a hole where she should be. For whatever the reason, she isn't a part of my story on earth right now. And it's not because of my worthiness, my skills as a mother, any unluckiness, or any other darkness that my mind tries to overshadow me with. The reality is... it is all in God's hands. I find hope in that. I find glimmers of peace in that. Which I desperately need. Because the reality is also, that it hurts. Some days, it's just an ache. Other days like today, it hurts so bad.

I'm hoping that maybe someday something will change. Maybe eventually another mother will bring her into the world, and I will bring her home and love her as if she were my own because she will be. She will be the missing piece to my heart that I lost before it was ever found. She will be my Aly Rin.