Source: Gemini twins
Once at home…lucky to be alive and trying to recover, all I kept thinking while laying in bed, resting, bored, making milk and making blood…what would they have done with all my shoes? I am a shoe girl. With a hundred or so pairs of shoes, if I had not come home from the birth, what would they have done with all my shoes? Give them to my girls, donate them, sell them, throw them out, keep them? Why is it that something so silly, so unimportant was my thought? Maybe I was trying to minimize, normalize, or was just lost in random thoughts while recouping. My thought now is that life is too short to not wear the shoes and put on the lip gloss, everyday! Live!
Source: My spirited child
How do you respect a liar? Is he a liar or is he a man that lies? I used to think there was a difference…used to think it mattered if there was a difference. What do you look at, the intent of the lie, the degree of the lie, the longevity of the lie? And does it really matter? Is a white lie better? Isn’t a lie a lie?
As a person who does not make a habit of lying, I find myself unable to respect a liar. I don’t consider myself pious, but actually don’t have reasons to lie. A lie is a weakness in my opinion, an immature defense mechanism that adults use to mask their own weaknesses. I struggle with respecting the liar, I struggle with loving the liar. I struggle with forgiving the liar. Unfortunately the liar comes in the form of my husband.
Source: Turning 18…
Source: College life
Last thing I heard was the doctor telling me I was going to get a DNC to vacuum out pieces of the placenta that are causing excessive bleeding…or so they thought. Three days later, I woke up. Thinking it had only been hours, it had been days, three to be exact. Not understanding why everyone was so happy to see me, exited that I was awake. I figured I was just coming to after a few hours of a DNC procedure…I had no idea it had been nine hours of surgery, six blood transfusions and three days later with my husband being told to say his goodbyes. I was not looking at recovery, I was not even pulling through the surgery half way through, when the doctors told my husband to call the family to let them know I am not going to make it. Three days gone, gone from my memory, gone from my conscious, but never forgotten. I am grateful for my three days, three days I lived, three days I recovered, three days I fought. Three days may be gone but three days helped me live.
Source: 18 and living life!
I was given a 50/50 chance, if I made it through the night. After childbirth, I was bleeding out…severe complications on my fifth baby. I was not expected to live, the family called in to say their goodbyes, but I fought. I was not done. I was not done living, not done raising my kids, not done creating a life for myself or family. I came back to life after a few days of horrible statistics of living. Not coherent after the operation but give me a few days and I came back…back to finish my place on this earth, back to raise my children, my baby. Back to life…