The Guilt of a Second

I write from the throes of pregnancy at week forty. 

None of my favorite jeans fit, I’m sleeping very little and I find myself hungry all the time. It’s like college all over again, but my beloved Chocolate Shop isn’t right around the corner. 

I have a terrible admission to make. I thought if I tell you – and only you – it’ll be off my chest and perhaps I’ll feel a bit less guilt? We’ll see. 

I feel terribly guilty about having a second child. Our daughter Caroline, who just turned two in July, has soaked up every bit of attention and adoration my husband and I have had to offer for twenty-four months. There is no way a second could capture our hearts in the way she has. It is as though I have little love left to give because my heart is running around the outside of my body, begging to go check cows with her baby doll in tow. 

Is this normal? 

Did anyone else feel like their second child would automatically be getting the short end of the stick right out of the gate? How could I possibly love anything in the way I love our first born?

The second will be introduced to hand-me-down clothes on the day they (gender to be discovered at time of birth) come home from the hospital. 

The second will be swaddled in blankets monogrammed with their big sister’s initials. 

The second will use sippy cups with little teeth marks already along the edges. 

The second will never know a mother without grey hair or dark circles under her eyes. 

The second will be bathed with tattered washcloths, wear bibs with spaghetti stains down the front and strut around in cowboy boots already broken in to fit someone else’s feet. 

The second will read books with missing pages, put together puzzles with bent corners and will never have a plastic kiddie pool to themselves.

The second will be compared to the first, out of habit. Will they walk sooner? Cry longer? Bite harder? I pray daily that they arrive in fewer than twenty-six hours of labor. 

The second will use a pacifier that fell on the barn’s dirt floor and wasn’t boiled afterwards. Or, ever. 

The second will blow out birthday candles that have already been lit and blown out once before.  

The second will never get to name their first heifer without input from the next room over. 

The second will never have their birthdate or initials used in a password sequence.

The second will require a sense of humor, high pain tolerance and fierce independence for survival. 

The second is definitely getting the short end of the stick. 

I told my mom and sister about my feelings of guilt and my perceived inability to ever love a second child in the way I have loved our first. My mom quickly responded to my concern with, “How do you think I felt with three kids?!” 

It should be noted here that I’m child number three. 

And her response actually explains a lot of the last thirty-three years. 

UPDATE:

Cyrus Sankey was born August 10, 2018 and when it comes to my fears listed above, 
I think I've had a change of heart. 

Building Strong Children

It's been a bad week, huh?

We'll never understand the reason behind Sunday night's tragedy in Law Vegas, and frankly I wondered if I even had anything to write about this morning. Sunday night has left me sad, uninspired and wanting terribly to just be with my family in our living room. 

Then I saw someone on Facebook share a video showing exactly what the shooter's hotel room looked like when he opened fire. It was a virtual tour of the setting he was in when he made a horrific decision. 
I don't want to see that. 
I don't want to be in his element. 
I don't want to hear about his life, his buying history or his girlfriend. 
I don't want to know anymore about him. 
He was a terribly broken human being. 

I want to think about moving forward. 

This quote has been on my mind all week. 
(As I write this, it's only Tuesday. Jesus, take the wheel.)

"It is easier to build strong children 
than to repair broken men." 

- Frederick Douglass

So starting now, 

lets focus on building strong children. 

This means setting an example in how you treat other people, whether that be at the school pick-up line, on the sports field, at home or in a restaurant. 
This means setting an example in how you use your words to encourage, discipline or guide.
This means setting an example in how you honor your spouse, your parents and others that you consider family. 
This means setting an example in how you take care of yourself; your body, your mind and your faith. 
This means setting an example in how you take care of things around you, leaving things better than how you found them. 
This means setting an example in how you make choices, taking into account the the things that matter, against the ones that don't. 
This means setting an example in how you determine and honor your priorities. 
This means setting an example in how you spend your "free" time. 
This means setting an example in how you value your daily work. 

Who knows? Maybe it won't be only children you influence by living well. Those around you may begin to emulate your example, one by one, building a character of integrity in a world that desperately needs it. 

People on this earth are broken, some certainly more so than others. Let's commit today to do everything in our power to grow a population that values one another. By being kind, extending grace and loving one another, let's show the rest of the world that we value human life. 

Even when it brings us to our knees. 

A Day Off and a Dollar Short

Did you guys know yesterday was Wednesday?
Yeah. I figured that one out about eight hours prior. 

As Cody rolls his suitcase through the living room:
"Boy, you're packing early. You don't leave until Wednesday!" I remarked, folding clothes, lightly thinking about his next coast-to-coast trip. 
"You know tomorrow is Wednesday, right?" Cody responded at 7:54 PM. 
It was as though I ran into a wall without standing up. 

Darn You Three Day Weekend!

Isn't is amazing what one day off can do to a routine? 

Since your kids are out on summer break and you still haven't put on mascara, let me tell you about our Memorial Day Weekend and the days that have since followed. 

At approximately 3:12 PM Saturday I ran out of cash at the Amish greenhouse and tried really hard to bargain with two 10-year-olds who only spoke dutch. They had no interest in trading succulents for Caroline's dishwashing talents, so we rolled outta there without hens & chicks. I told them I'd come back Monday with adequate funds...but I didn't have the guts to show my face again. 

At approximately 5:07 PM Saturday afternoon unexpected company rolled up our lane. My genetics kicked in and I instinctively grabbed everything I could find and threw it someplace no one would ever think to look: the shower. 

At 9:00 PM the day cooled down, I had planted every thing I'd purchased, I put Caroline in the kiddie corral and started a shower for myself. I let the bathroom fill with steam then cracked the window for some awesome springtime air. 

Then I climbed in. 
Twenty seconds later, my soil-covered self came to realize that I was suddenly showering with everything I'd hidden in the shower at 5:07 PM.

Who else in the entire history of the world can say they have showered with:

Two issues of Country Living 

A Farm Bureau bill

A lapel pin from judging the Ft. Worth Stock Show

Two dirty dish towels 

A cup of oatmeal, 12 hours old

A baby spoon

An oatmeal-caked bib 

Keys to a 4-wheeler

A wedding invitation from 2016

A light bulb

Two packets of hotel coffee

and finally: Caroline's rubber ducky. 

I do believe I've never had that much fun in the shower. 
Everything is now drying on the back patio. 

The next afternoon I drug myself into CVS and bought

Dry shampoo 

Waterproof mascara 

Diapers

A sympathy card

A probiotic

Shoe polish 

and finally: Wine 
With every scanned "BEEP" I felt like I was being judged. 
But then I thought: add manure to this fiasco and it's pretty well my life summed up in a red plastic basket. 

An hour later we returned home and I sat in my vehicle and leaned against the headrest while Caroline slept, 18 inches away. We sat there for less than two minutes and I drifted to sleep, dreaming about the state of California sinking into a sea of Pace Picante. 

So that's my life right now. 

For Caroline's first Memorial Day Weekend we honored, listened, swung, prayed, sang, ate, twirled, rocked, climbed, drove, checked, watched, rolled, giggled, and rested very, very little. And Caroline still woke at 4:03 AM Tuesday morning. We are committed to teaching her the true meaning of Memorial Day. 

It wasn't until the "Boy, you're packing early. You don't leave until Wednesday!" comment on Tuesday evening that I remembered that I'd lost a day of writing in this week.

On Wednesday afternoon my trusty Outlook calendar kindly reminded me that I had a dentist appointment in 15 minutes. Again: I thought it was tomorrow. 

I texted my boss and told him I'm an idiot and would be leaving early, went to the ladies' restroom and flossed/brushed my teeth, then sped out of the office as a woman on a mission. 

Ten minutes later I found myself parking my car at the pediatric center, not the dentist. I sat in the parking lot for ten seconds quite confused. Where am I and how did I get here? It was as though my car was on auto-pilot from the last 6 months of ear infections. 

I'm convinced that stress overload and a three day weekend can cause havoc on any (semi-) sane person. 

So here I am. 

Hoping the Farm Bureau bill dries out before it is due and awaiting a new fitting for my night gear retainer, at age 32. 

Life has a funny way of humbling people 

when they think they have it all together. 

I Had No Idea

Friends, family and readers of this blog gave me plenty of really great motherly advice and insight as I transitioned into motherhood. I listened to each bit and truly tried to absorb it while mentally preparing myself for what lied ahead. 

I learned early that there is no preparing for motherhood. You learn from day-to-day just how much you don't know. 

I had no idea the joy I would find in watching someone sleep. At what age does this get weird for Caroline?

 

I had no idea that mobile babies are most curious when you enter the bathroom. Is this a proven science? What is it about the bathroom that attracts tiny fingers and toes? I can be across the house, in the bathroom washing my face, and I won't get the suds rinsed off before looking down to find this face waiting on me. 
How did you find me and what do you want?

I had no idea how important rest is to your body and mind. I believe I started motherhood behind the eight ball, having been in labor for 27 hours then not sleeping afterwards (I think my body was in shock). Cody was awake and very present for every second of those 27 hours. When I told him I was exhausted, I'll never forget him responding with: "At least you got to pass out between pushes!"

Like....that is my life.  

All I want for Mother's Day is a nap. 

Which is so cliche, and oh, so real. 

I had no idea that someone who can't even enjoy pepper jack cheese would be so sneaky with the refrigerator. Cody can strangely hear me open the freezer for ice cream three rooms away, but I can't hear Caroline open the refrigerator and pull out a jar of salsa while I'm washing bottles 5 feet away? How does that work?

I had no idea the wave of sadness that comes over a mother when she begins folding clothes with little grippers on the bottoms of the footie pajamas. 

I had no idea that there were so many crazy drivers on the road. If you come within 8 feet of my vehicle while Caroline is in the car, I'm calling 911 and reporting reckless driving. 

Our local department has added me to their Do-Not-Call list. 

I had no idea that food intake and output was so important. I have documented more ounces and textures than I ever imagined.
What did I eat yesterday? A banana and cup of coffee on my way to work at 7:15. No idea after that. 
What did Carline eat yesterday?
6 oz. bottle
Cereal and bananas
Turkey, whole grains and sweet potatoes
1/16 of the Jungels ad in the July 2016 Shorthorn Country
4 oz. bottle
Pears and Corn
Hawiaan Delight
2 ladybugs
6 oz. bottle

I had no idea that the same person could be completely overjoyed because she finally got what she wanted and terribly sad at the same time.

I had no idea the kind of man I married. I knew he was a good guy, I didn't know he was made to be a father. I can count ONE TIME in 10+ months that Cody did not get up with Caroline and I in the night. Only once has he actually slept through her cries. Every other time he (was either 1,000 miles away sorting bulls or) had his feet on the floor and was changing diapers with me. That's a stand-up man. Thanks, Chris & Sharee. 

I had no idea how much I would miss certain smells: newborn skin, lemon Pledge, Windex, a freshly mopped floor. 

I had no idea how bad shots hurt when you aren't even on the receiving end. Who has cried more during shots: Caroline or I? That's a question I'm not willing to answer. We're raising one tough chick. 

I had no idea about the things that can run through your mind in the quiet darkness while you're rocking a baby:

Paying for college

Car accidents

Mean middle school girls

The possible consequences of swallowing a sequin

Study abroad trips

Strep throat

That chick on Dateline back in January

Shopping with a daughter - when I absolutely hate shopping

Social media

Our future son-in-law

Lice

I had no idea how much I would look forward to a simple Sunday in May. Mother's Day has a much sweeter meaning for me this year and will for the rest of my life. What an honor and blessing it is to be entrusted to raise this little girl. 

 

Happy Mother's Day to the women who 

guide, raise, nurture, discipline, coach, console, encourage, and love -  

whether you've given birth, or not. 

Honesty in the Doctor's Office

I had a routine wellness check nearly a month ago. 
You know, the kind where they ask for your blood, urine, time, patience, insurance card and father's grandfather's uncle's health history. 

I told the doctor that I thought he was healthy but passed at age 30. 
World War I really took a toll on the young, healthy guys. 

I was asked to sit alone in a quiet, cold room and proofread five pages of contact information followed by eight pages of health history. 
How many times should I need to write my last name, middle initial and first name for one appointment, do you think?
Six. 

How many times did I write "Bowman" rather than "Sankey"? 
Twice. 
Perhaps year five is the ticket.

Then I moved into the health history questionnaire. 
Every year prior, I've breezed through this bad boy like a college student who knew they were going to pass the class without regard to how they did on the final.
All answers were - proudly - marked NO.

This time was different. 

This was the first time in a while that I was 
1. Alone
2. Not in my car
3. Not in the shower
4. Completely focused on me. 

This time I took the wellness survey quite seriously. 

Do you have an existing and/or recent problem with:
Please explain all answers marked YES.

Insomnia: YES
I haven't slept in 9 months

Daytime drowsiness: YES
I think not sleeping in 9 months may have something to do with this. 

Recent weight gain/loss in the last 6 months: YES
I've teetered between the same 30 lbs. for the last nine months. 
I eat a slab of rocky road nightly in hopes to bounce back into my pre-pregnancy jeans. They're my favorites and GAP stopped making them. 

Sensitive ears: YES
There was a time in my life when I lived one block from railroad tracks and I never once heard the (4) night trains. 
Today I can hear Mike Craig's (neighbor) cows bawl and I can also hear Caroline's toes wiggle. I can hear clouds move. Make it stop. 

Shortness of breath when walking with other people at an ordinary pace on level ground: YES
Have you ever tried to push a stroller through mud while carrying a 5-gallon bucket of feed?
I didn't think so. 

Wheezing that interferes with your job: YES
See above. 

Heartburn that is not related to eating: YES
11 months of the 2016 Election

Pain in abdomen: YES
26 hours of labor. 
Thought I was tough. 
She's healthy and strong and it all worked out. 

Pain in neck: YES
My brother

Numbness in limbs: YES
Sometimes when CJ (thats my daughter, not my husband) falls asleep in the recliner with me I wake up and can't feel or move my arms. 

Wondering if life is worth it: YES
In the last week I have stubbed the same ingrown toenail on the same coffee table in the 5:15 AM darkness. Twice. 

I submitted my clipboard to the nurse and took a cat nap on the paper table lining while she and her team analyzed my honesty. 

The doctor came in the room six short minutes (I was counting on a 30-minute snooze) later. 
She held on to her stethoscope like it was a necklace and crossed her legs like a friend leaning in for a really raw chat. 
"How are you, Lindsay?"
"I'm well," I responded without thought. 
She leaned in like a sister that knew too much. 
"I have a seven-month-old at home and it's bull sale season.....Travel season for my husband," I responded without prompt. "And we're calving."
She smiled. 
"You need to get that baby to bed earlier. Take daily walks. And shut off your phone after 9:00 every night."

Three instructions. 
No drugs. 

I walked out of the doctor's office wondering if I was a hypochondriac.


Then I quietly assured myself:

Not a hypochondriac, I'm a mother.

Stealing Joy

I had heard of it, in passing.

I even recognized the characters’ names, somehow?

But I had never actually engaged. 

Through the advice of coworkers, two weeks ago I began watching episodes of FixerUpper.

 

I’ve had a strange urge 

to burn our house to the ground 

ever since.

For the three people left in this world not familiar with the show (I was one of you, only weeks ago), Fixer Upper is a home improvement show hosted by a young, charismatic couple that transforms dumps into dream homes…in one episode…with humor…and a perfect budget.

Every project they complete is fresher, brighter, and more charming than anything I’ve ever lived in. Sorry, Momma.

They just don’t build shiplap bathrooms made to house frozen baby calves over night.

Chip and Joanna are like your admirable, adorable older cousin and his wife who live states away that you keep up with only seeing the highlight reel (Christmas letter). Even after seeing them every so often (Tuesdays at 9:00 EST), you leave feeling just a bit envious of the amazing work they do, the ease of which they do it and the allure of the Texas life they live.

And that’s why 

I have a terribly hard 
time watching the show.

I have to tell you something.

In hopes that maybe by telling you – and only you – I’ll do a better job of holding myself accountable.

I do this thing. Not often, but every once in a while.   

I’m aware of it, only once it begins.

And I cringe each time I let myself do it.

Still, every so often, it happens again.

I let comparison creep into my mind and 

I quietly begin to discount the positive things in my life.

I see a beautifully renovated Fixer Upper house and I forget about how far along our home has come.

 Today our home is filled with ranch and family history. And walls. None of which you can buy at Magnolia Market. 

I see someone begin to take impeccable care of him or her self and I wonder why I’m ok with WhirleyPop for supper when Cody is out of town.

I see people younger than I chasing beautiful kids around and worry: Am I going to be an old Mom?

But isn’t it so easy? The comparison thing. 

Isn’t it so easy to watch good things unfold for someone else, then quietly sit back and think: I’d like to experience that, too. If only just a little.

In a time where we have access to every intricate detail (whether we want to or not) of a family’s highlight reel, it’s so easy to watch our own behind the scenes footage unfold, and compare. If only by saying something as simple as: I like what they did in that space; I’d like to completely renovate our bathroom. 

Side note: A plumber is seriously coming to our ancient farmhouse today – on the day of this writing. If he can’t figure out something quickly, I’m taking the lightening rods off the roof and letting the problem sort its self out. 

Anyway…

Comparison, in moderation, is not necessarily an evil. In fact, it typically encourages the desire to do more or do better.

So when is comparison a bad thing?

When it begins to steal your joy.

Again: 

When is comparison a bad thing?

When it begins to steal your joy.

Proverbs 14:30

A heart at peace gives life to the body,

but envy rots the bones.

When you expend enough energy comparing anything that you have (or don’t?) to others, 

that you’re too worn to seek out and enjoy the wonderful things in your camp, 

the rot has already set in.

And by “someone else’s beauty”, I mean someone else’s

Career, path or professional success

Family, heritage or history

Home, house or furnishings

Friends, social scene or status

Appearance, confidence, or closet

Health, strength or energy

Location, proximity or zip code

Winnings, success or trophy case

Body type, body type or body type

Children, legacy or rendition

Schedule, production or obligations

Someone else’s Life.

Theodore Roosevelt once said: 

"Comparison is the thief of joy."

What a simple, profound way to think of something so common in our every day life. 

Do you find yourself - if only just a little - comparing what you have to what others do? What about comparing your life's path and timeline to other people's? Why do that to yourself?  God made your life's story uniquely for you. Only you were meant to live it. 

You lock your car when running errands. 

You use a password to securely lock your personal information online. 

Certainly, you lock your home up when you leave for an extended period of time. 

Why?

Because you don't want a thief stealing the physical things that are important to you. 

So why - why - would you allow 

conscious comparing to trespass 

into your most guarded possession: 

- your heart -

so it can

steal your joy?