The Scandal of Mercy and Grace - A Lost Relationship is Restored

So many items swirling in my mind as I try to make some order out of the chaos of thoughts.  My son, Dante was born in May 1997.  We lived together in a duplex, just us.  I worked full time and did everything I could to make ends meet.  When I look back on that time, we spent a lot of time together.  If I wasn't working, we were together.  I did shift work so I had three or four days off at a time.  He and I would go to the park.  We'd go to the rec center to swim or play and we'd go on millions of walks in the stroller or the backpack.  I had a seat on the back of my bike for him. I would pedal my bike for many miles with him on the back until I could feel his head in the small of my back, knowing he'd fallen asleep and I should head home.  We had some fun times in the back yard too with a kiddie pool.  We really didn't have much in terms of materialistic things but we had each other.  That sounds kind of weird to say about a 21 year old mom and her babe, but when I think back on it, it's how I see it.  Dante was just literally anything and everything that mattered to me at that point in my life.  

I took him to church with me every Sunday.  I drove him around to family friends' homes on Halloween so he could go trick or treating.  That's a funny thing now that I think about it.  Why would I drive all over caldwell to various family and friends' homes?  Just to show them my cutie son in a pumpkin costume and then the next year in his Winnie the Pooh costume.  

Once he got into Kindergarten, I would pray for him all the way to work every single day.  Pray for his future.  Pray for his health.  Pray for his character and for God to protect him from any bad decisions I would ultimately make.  I prayed for who his future friends would be and his future wife.  I'd imagine all kinds of adventures he would one day get to have and hope that I would be able to see his dreams come true one day. At the age of two weeks old, I dedicated him in the same church I was dedicated in some 21+ years earlier.  I dedicated myself to raising him in the way of God and Jesus.  

There's just so many things that stick out to me as I think about Dante's early years.  I remember when he was first born and how all of the sudden, every bone in my body that was ever impatient was all of the sudden patient, making space for motherhood to grow within my depths.  I remember when he cried how my heart would respond with the desire to immediately meet .  I remember how I tried to be a consistent rule maker/follower for him as a model.  

Our relationship was really one of unique rarity.  Dante would share with me about things that most sons would never speak of with a mom.  Somehow he had this depth of self awareness at such an early age.  We were able to discuss things we were passionate about, both of us caring a lot about relationships.  We could be truly vulnerable and authentic with one another in a way that I had never known with another human.  He could discuss deep matters with brilliance.  I see now that these characteristics really built a strong foundation for our relational connection.  

Around Dante's 16th bday there were some circumstances that led to a most violent and traumatic crushing of this beloved relationship.  There were many players involved in the undoing of our relationship, but the primary player was me.  It really was my fault.  The pain of that time was pain that I didn't think would ever subside nor could I see any light to navigate toward.  Have you ever felt emotional pain that was so intense, no numbing, escaping or coping method would even touch it?  I had truly lost my son.  There would be no going back.  I think he would also agree that he felt like he lost his mom.  We had spent the first 16 years of his life walking in tandem through all the things and then all of the sudden, the bond snapped in half and it was just gone.  It was really gone.  The years of profound love, the depth of relationship we had enjoyed were.. gone.  Just utterly gone.  I could feel the dark powers laughing at this crumbling of something so precious.  I couldn't even breathe.  There were many consequential relationships that went out to sea after this.  All of them a result of me either turning my back and walking away or just trying to pave a way for a new family that did not include toxic people.  

I found myself living alone again now sharing custody of my younger three children (Dante's younger siblings at the time) I was in my own personal hell.  I think these years were the worst years I've ever experienced in my life in terms of fear, panic and pain.  I found myself again, praying every day on the way to work but now was asking God if he had forgotten me...forgotten Dante and my other children.  Either God was silent or I was wearing the most God-cancelling ear muffs ever.  I felt like the Israelites who were enslaved for 400 years when God was seemingly not there.  I eventually concluded that God really HAD forgotten about me and I was on my own.  This is the consequence of divorcing and not behaving in line with my priorities.  It was my fault.  I decided I just needed to do the 'ol "pull myself up by my boot straps" and stop wishing for a rescuer.  Self loathing was the staple of those days.  So many nights I cried myself to sleep.  My poor coworkers and my boss of many years...I'm certain they thought I'd never get over it.  The pain would ever end.  My relationship with my son....the one thing on the earth that I cared about the longest, was gone.  I wanted to die.  

For the next 4+ years, I saw Dante maybe a couple times a year.  He eventually went to live with my parents.  The pain I thought I had before was now heaped with shame and embarrassment at what a failure I was as a mom.  I didn't get to throw him bday parties anymore, I didn't get to plan a celebration of his graduation... I felt so robbed (of my own doing) and each one of these things seemed to just turn the knife a little more...reminding me of how much relationship I DIDN'T have with my son.  He ALWAYS came to visit me on Mother's Day and brought me flowers or a nice card.  The first year, he didn't come IN my home, but he came.  He also ALWAYS texted or called or something on my bday.  These were the two times a year I could count on hearing from my beloved Dante.  

I did a great job of distracting myself from the emotional agony during those years and eventually that led to more problems and even more turmoil for my children.  I seem to be good at creating turmoil, unfortunately.  Nonetheless, in Nov 2016, I found myself at a giant crossroad.  I heard a pastor say once that God shows up when you find yourself at these kinds of crossroads.  God showed up!  He spoke so loudly to me that even though I TRIED not to listen, I couldn't help but hear His message.  God told me if I would be faithful with what I had been handed, He would change everything.  It was like signing up to be alive and having no idea how to make your heart beat or how to make your lungs inhale and exhale.  I didn't know what this "everything" was that God said would be changed. I was in such massive misery, I didn't know what else to do....it was either choose faith in God or I would actually die.  Honestly, at this point...I don't think I could have been a bigger failure as a person let alone a mom.  With the desire to follow God's leading at this crossroads, Dante and I began the uphill climb to restoring relationship.  This was one of the very first things God did as a result of my choice to have faith in Him.  

Just over a year later, Dante was in a car accident and his phone was no where to be found.  Some people stopped by the accident site and the only phone number Dante remembered was mine, so he called me.  The sound of his voice is something I will never forget.  He sounded so raw.  I recognized that raw-ness immediately.  It's hard to describe this because it wasn't about the accident (everyone was fine) but it seemed like something switched for Dante too after this accident.  Another four months went by and Dante let me throw him a family bday party for his 21st bday.  I was so nervous.  I wanted everything to be perfect (as if that's what would be the new foundation of a relationship - can you hear the sarcasm?).  The day turned out w/o a hitch and I had a very tiny sliver of hope that we would once again have relationship.  

Dante was playing basketball for a mens rec league. He gave me his schedule so I started going to some of his games.  It was so amazing to be able to get to be around him again.  About two years ago he started coming over once a week for dinner.  We had a week here and there where it didn't work for one reason or another, but this wasn't a problem since every Tues I could pretty much count on seeing Dante and getting to be together.  We had a brief pause when the pandemic started, but even that was short lived.  Then he started calling me just to talk about stuff... and we started going out for dinner, just the two of us and getting together so we could discuss things.  I dared to start praying again for all the things that I used to pray about.  About his friends.  About his dreams and his passion for God.  About his heart. 

Then a year ago, Dante really decided to train hard and try to get into an elite unit of the Air Force.  I watched Dante go after this with all the drive and determination I have always known of him.  He has always had this *thing* about him.  This *thing* looked like incredible strength, tenacity and perseverance.  It looked like a drive to carry on and work even harder when the going got tough.  He is not put off by hard stuff.  This actually energizes him.  He is incredibly sensitive to others and very intuitive but there is something about him when it comes to goals.  If he is passionate about a particular goal, his success is something you can take to the bank.  I have been incredibly impressed, inspired and 100% supportive of this move in Dante's life.  I've watched him just absolutely go balls to the wall toward his goal, knocking them out day after day, each workout after each workout and this led to him finding a strength within himself that he didn't even know existed.  Or maybe he did know, but he hadn't accessed it previously in his life.  What an absolute honor to witness.  

In the meantime, over the last two years, our relationship has grown in a way I didn't think would ever be reality.  My love for Dante has grown even deeper than I knew possible eight years ago.  Maybe the purpose of that pain I experienced eight years ago was to create new space for the joy that would be this newly rekindled love and connection with my first love.  What's quite odd for me now, in this place is how emotional I feel.  All at the same time I have incredible pride and once inconceivable, renewed affection.  A connection that's a treasure of immeasurable value. Couple all of that with fleeting thoughts about Tues night dinners without Dante, random phone calls that will be non-existent for a bit (hopefully to return) and a physical geographical separation that I have not known before.  Holy crying spells....

Tonight my dad and I dropped Dante off at the hotel.  He'll swear in tomorrow, have his medical check and head out!!  It's been an intense couple of days with dance recitals, child dedications, tons of games, family pictures and late night talks.  We've done a ton of big family activities together.  I was steeling my emotions up in the most hard core way I could muster.  I didn't end up doing so awesome at keeping the tears in my body.  That's for sure not my forte.  

Somewhere along the way...over the last 24 years of Dante's life, God heard my prayers.  God is forever faithful.  He is not a "do nothing" God. Even when I cannot see with my own eyes.  He really does do as He says He will in Romans 8:28 "And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them".  Somewhere in this, God had mercy on me.  I was afforded a million trailer loads of grace...and in the same way, my son has shown me mercy and grace.  God changed our relationship because of mercy and grace, that I most certain could never earn.  God never stops pursuing us.  He really doesn't AND He is RELENTLESS. He pursued Dante and has called him to step into a place where he can be stretched and have space to grow with the Air Force.  What an honor.  What a way to worship God.  Once again today, I prayed for Dante all the way home.  Now 24 years later, I still find myself praying for the same things.  I prayed for his dreams and goals.  I prayed for his protection.  I prayed for the people that would come into his life.  I prayed for his training.  I prayed for his character.  I pray for his relationship with God.

Thank you God for Dante.  Thank you God for enough mercy and grace to restore a relationship that I don't deserve.  Thank you Dante for showing me just enough mercy and grace.  I will carry our relationship with me in my heart.  I am always on your side.  You're stronger than even YOU think you are.  You're a finisher.  I will always love who you are on the insides the most.  Now.  You do what God is calling you to do!!  I am ALWAYS for that.  

The last hour

Monday night 7/24/2017:

The decision was made.   Labor would be induced primarily due to the multitude of risk factors that come with being pregnant over 40 yrs old and the additional clinical findings at my 41 week OB visit.  Monday I went to the hospital for gel placement that could potentially start labor with the least invasive procedure.  I am really sensitive to medication, meaning it doesn't take much and my body responds like a freight train. 

The gel was placed and I was required to stay in a mostly horizontal position for at least 30 min.  Within a couple minutes, I was having significant contractions.  Moments later, I was sweating profusely and getting very light headed.  I needed to use the restroom NOW and I also felt the need to vomit NOW!  It was extremely difficult to even formulate an intelligible sentence to Jon to tell him what I needed.  I was not allowed to get up (because of the gel on my cervix) not that it mattered since I could barely hang on.  I did ask Jon to come stand next to the skinny bed I was on since I fell like I might fall out if I did indeed faint.   I closed my eyes.  I tried to breathe deep and exhale slowly.  The guided imagery and affirmations that I'd listened to for several months seemed to be worthless.  I was fading in and out as contractions came and went. 

At some point, as I closed my eyes, I found myself sitting on my back porch, talking to Emily, one of my very best friends... mostly sobbing actually.  I was in shock, disbelief, paralyzing fear and anger.  Being the amazing friend she is, she didn't try to fix me, rather simply listened.  She let silence sit while I sobbed and then let me vent/cry out more as needed.  In the end, she asked, "what will you do?".  We logically listed out the options:
1. carry on with pregnancy, ultimately having another child
2. adoption
3. abortion.  
In my heart of hearts I knew the only real answer would be option number 1 however at the same time, I needed allow myself to sit with number 2 and 3.  In the last days of pregnancy, last moments before birth, this decision would be critical.  So as I lay in the hospital bed, writhing in and out of pain, on the brink of fainting, I thought about the heart felt time I spent making this decision.  My friend's words rang in my ears, "No matter what you do Amy, I'm on your side!"  I opened my eyes and laid in the bed trying to pretend away the pain, breathing deep and wiping away silent tears as Jon gently tried to soothe my ever increasingly agitated state. 

I let my eyes close once again.  This time I flashed back to the week of Thanksgiving, sitting in the car with my 15 y.o. daughter, Faith.  I had driven home from the initial ultrasound appointment where I witnessed my unborn child's heartbeat for the first time.  I knew in my gut on the way home I had to tell Faith immediately.  Our relationship warranted this level of transparency.  My home (six people in 1400 sq ft) does not allow for much one-on-one time in the middle of the day.  Thus, I texted Faith the moment I drove into the driveway telling her to come straight out to the car and not tell anyone what she was doing.  She got in the car, immediately on alert as she could see I'd been crying.  "Mom!  What's the matter?  Are you okay?  Please tell me what's going on!!" I could barely speak through the sobs.  "Faith, do you know what an IUD is?"  She responded in angst, "No Mom!  What does that mean and you're scaring me!!"  I gathered myself slightly, "Listen Faith, everything is going to be alright.  I just need to get this out.  An IUD is an intrauterine device that stops you from getting pregnant.  (Faith is starting to well up with tears at this moment) My IUD did not stop me from getting pregnant. I just got done with a doctor's appointment to confirm that I am pregnant."  Faith said, "Oh my gosh Mom.  WOW!  But why are you so upset?"  I explained how I already sense the urgency of time with regard to time I have with each of my children.  I may have an infinite volume of love in my heart but I have a very finite amount of time in a day.  This is my hugest mom related fear.  My eyes opened again as I am trying to gently exhale through a contraction.  The nurse came in and I begged her to get up and use the restroom.  I knew if I could puke and use the toilet, I would feel a zillion times better.   I was having contractions on top of contractions.  All the while, the baby's heart rate stayed steady. 

Some hours later after the doctor going back and forth whether she would even let me go home that night, I was finally allowed to go home for a few hours of sleep.  I had to be back at the hospital at 9am for the start of Pitocin...the drug that FEELS like it came straight from the pits of hell.  I got home and in bed at 1:43am.

I dreamed that Emily and I were running.  I don't know where exactly but we were running on some kind of trail. This was definitely a soothing dream.  I abruptly was awoken at 3:30am to contractions.  For some bizarre reason I felt rested.  Likely, because I was really only sleeping for short naps, at best and this was a longer "nap" than usual.  I laid in bed for over an hour thinking about running and trying to desperately figure out a way to avoid the pain of childbirth.  I cursed Eve for taking a bite of the forbidden fruit.  I imagined not going to the hospital and driving to McCall or Silver City so I could deliver a child in the mountains the way it's supposed to be...and not with a bunch of crazy meds.  Each new idea always ended with nothing.  I could not think of any way to avoid any of it. 

Tues AM, 7/25/2017:

As I sat at the kitchen table at 8:30am, waiting for my parents to arrive (to stay with Faith, Halle, Dawson and Joy), my mind was STILL going a million miles an hour trying to conjure up some new idea of how to avoid a synthetically induced childbirth.  Again, my mind could not come up with any feasible plan.  The circumstances around me looked like this: a plumber, an electrician, the foreman and his two workers, all in the house frantically completing our home remodel/addition.  Also, the dog (Miles) was agitated and barking at random people he'd never cared about before.  My children were all in some various form of individual coping mechanism and I sat at the table with my head in my hands, utterly helpless to find calm for myself or my children.  Because my bedroom was part of the remodeled area being worked on, I literally had no physical space inside my home to escape to...for quiet and calm.  By now, my only option was to simply go get in the car and hope that Jon either got in a wreck or somehow forgot how to get to the hospital.  That was my last hope avoiding childbirth. 

On the way to the hospital, I texted Emily and told her that I felt like all the mental prep I had done felt like walking 30 m/m on flat ground and showing up to a race that was a sprint up Cervidae (a near by peak with serious elevation gain).  I told her I just wanted to be done and would do whatever it took to BE DONE.  Her response was something that would hang in my mind for the remainder of the day.  She said "You can do this.  You are the strongest badass lady I know.  Only two miles to go....even if it is straight up Cervidae, there is an immediate and definite end point".  Emily somehow  knows how to talk to me and what to say.  I don't know how she does it but that was enough to at least get me on the right path.  She continued to send me texts throughout the day of encouraging words and imagery that spoke to my spirit, keeping me focused.

We arrived at the hospital.  I was still secretly contemplating running away and privately contriving an escape route.  I was still not giving into the idea of having a sixth child.  I couldn't let go.  I apparently still had work to do with God.  Over the course of the next nine hours, the work I needed to do was completed.  In the last hour before I held my babe, I came to terms with childbirth.  I didn't fight it anymore.  I had a deep sense that this baby was strong beyond my comprehension.  In the last hour I began to be excited to meet this child.  I loved this child with all that is in me.  I wanted to hold her.  I wanted to feed her.  I knew now, that I wanted this babe but that this child was a gift.  This babe was a gift I never in a million years knew I wanted.  And now that I recognized this, I couldn't be any more grateful. 

Ivy Amber King-Kinzer was born at 6:37pm.  She was the most perfect baby in the whole world and yes, I thought this about every one of my babes.  I really can't believe she almost didn't happen.  When they handed her to me, my heart literally exploded with happiness.

March and April short entries

03/06/2017:

I'm over half way through this pregnancy.  I still cry every day.  I cry myself to sleep most nights.  Not every night.  I try so hard not to cry and I hate my emotions right now.  My feelings and voices in my head lie to me all the time.  Making sense of just those two things is like swimming through honey. 

Happy things:

I'm still running, barely...but it's a run-ish.  Avg about 13:30 m/m but can maintain for 5-6 miles depending on the day.  I've been running about 15 miles a week, give or take.  That has been good for my spirit. 

I have been doing yoga.  Not very consistently.  The prenatal yoga has been frustrating as it causes me to face reality of childbirth since the lady is constantly talking about it. 

My children are happy and somehow in spite of me, thriving and doing well in school, sports and life. They are excited to have a new sibling.  I suppose I'm doing a good job of hiding my lack thereof. 

Unhappy things:

I feel like Jon and I are on two islands each struggling with our own adjustment, neither of us supporting the other one, rather simply trying to survive. 

I am struggling to get to a place of some kind of peace or calm. 


04/19/2017:
My OB doc told me about a new thing they are offering for patients in labor, nitrous oxide.  It's been offered for pain in the UK and Europe for many years now but just now making it's way to Boise.  I am starting my third trimester and so I'm trying to seriously think about how I will cope with labor again. I watched a YouTube video of a birth with an epidural.  It was so calm and no biggie.  It still doesn't convince me that I want that level of intervention.  However, trying to view just two videos of L&D with the laughing gas triggered some really crazy physiological responses.  Lots of uncontrollable crying, my heart is skipping beats, feeling like I cannot breathe and actually wheezing, feeling like I'm going to have a heart attack.  I am panicking.  This is yet three months away.  What in the world is wrong with me?  This is supposed to be a happy thing and I should be way further down the road than this. 


I have had a couple weeks now of less crying and more focused thinking.  I really thought I was making progress until I tried to watch a video.  I don't know. 


The pastor at church says that the things you cannot control are the places where God gets to show up.  I'm trying desperately to believe this.  If God really has a peace that passes all understanding, then I sure hope somehow He will extend it to me. 

Mile 99

I can smell the barn.  I am visualizing very clearly now, the FINISH.  My due date is tomorrow but for some reason I had this very day in my mind as the day I would have a babe.  Mostly because of the number line it would create.  Joy was born on the 13th, Halle on the 14th, Dawson on the 15th and Dante on the 16th...doesn't it seem like this babe should be born on the 17th?  Seems entirely reasonable.  Plus this would be the ONLY babe to come before the due date.  EVERY CHILD HAS BEEN OVER DUE, but who's counting anyway.


Something happened over the weekend.  We went to the mountains on Sat (7/15) and helped one of my best friends run an aid station for a local trail race/ultra.  Those mountains hold magical times for me.  My best childhood memories are there.  My happiest days of life exist in those mountains, even at the very spot where the AS was.  It's rejuvenating.  It reminds me where I came from and who I am.  I came home Sat night with a new perspective.  I am strong and stronger than I think, stronger than I feel.  I remember that from running ultras.  I was reminded that one race, one experience does not at all dictate the next. 


No matter what happens, I will keep choosing faith. I will finish this race and at the end, my buckle is my babe.  Not something I will wear but a CHILD I am blessed to nurture, love and teach for the rest of my life.  I don't know how I got so lucky...how ironic to say that vs what I was saying back in November.  WOW!

This is going to change everything!

01/2017:
At the risk of sounding crazy or psychotic, I'm going to just put it out there... God has made it clear to me in the ways that only HE speaks to my spirit.... THIS IS GOING TO CHANGE EVERYTHING.  This = me choosing to have faith.  Everything = my relationship with my Creator who loves me so much. 

Do you have children?  If you do, then you can identify with me what it must be like to create something so special...to have a connection with something to precious....this is what I imagine my Creator feels for me, only more because I'm human, and my Creator is not.  Nonetheless, my Creator and I have serious trust issues that go way back to my early formative years.  In an effort to not point fingers and to take responsibility for the things that are mine to be responsible for as I am now an adult...this part of my story might seem disjointed.  At a young age one of my parents was not physically present in my life for 48 out of 52 weeks of the year.  This had a tremendous effect on me and as I got older and it seemed that God allowed that to happen to me mostly because He didn't care about me.  It only made sense then to conclude, my needs and wants were not important and if I were going to have them met, it would be by my own doing = I trust no one, I need no one and if there comes a circumstance where I need something, it is up to me to make it happen.  Obviously this is extreme language.  I was not a neglected child!  I just decided that emotionally, I wasn't going to need.  In my mind, to emotionally need something meant that I would not have what I emotionally needed and would sit in a heap of emotional pain.  This began some coping mechanisms like denying any need I had emotionally. 

I manufactured relationships in my life to provide for (what I thought were) my emotional needs.  This led to more brokenness and pain.  In Oct 2012 an event occurred in my family that resulted in me choosing to be a part of some more intense counseling.  My heart still stops beating when I allow myself to mentally go back to that night in Oct.  The counseling was not only about the surrounding circumstances of the horrific event but also about learning how to grow this very stunted emotional part of myself....this part of me that was so shut off from acknowledging that I emotionally needed ANYTHING that I now faced a self-created an inability to receive emotionally from others, including my Creator.  My counselor suggested I practice mindfulness everyday by picturing my arms held outstretched allowing in the good from others and specifically from my Creator.  In nature, on my runs I would imaging God loving me with His creations of such beauty.

I have tried in a very effortful manner to make this work in my relationships, mainly my relationships with important men in my life, i.e. my dad, the man I live with.  I have failed over and over and have come up to many walls of more emotional pain.  It's so confusing.  I have made some progress.  I am making a big effort to spend time with my dad more regularly and learn about him, let him know me and not candy coat things like I have in the past.  I want him to know the real me and I'm not going to manufacture a person that I *think* he wants me to be (in order to manipulate what I think is love out of him) which only results in a fake relationship with someone that doesn't exist (fake me)..  I have made very little progress with the man I live with.  I remain insanely guarded emotionally.  I am insistent with myself that I not manipulate out of him whatever it is that I think I need emotionally.  I refuse to be manipulative although that in an of itself is a process!  Nonetheless, in all these relationships I've been floundering.  In my day to day, there's much more pain than anything else.  I don't know what that means except I know that pain speaks.  Pain creates change. 

I saw my counselor again in August for what I thought was a very specific issue and her response took me back because it seemed like she wasn't understanding what my issue was.  She said "don't you think it's time that you stop giving the men in your life, so much power over you?".  WHOOAAA!  That came from left field.  This led into a very deep discussion of the void from childhood...we all have stuff, this is just my stuff.  This is where it turns into my responsibility.  Everyone has stuff, including me, and I'm not a victim of my stuff any longer.  Hence, the mindset I've come to believe: when I bring myself to a HARD level of physical exertion, my emotional walls of concrete begin to crack.  What if this was a portal?  A portal for my Creator to fill the void I sense with only the substance that He can provide.  Clearly I cannot go back in time to 35+ years ago and give myself what I needed emotionally.  What if I LEAN into this...lean into the HARD, lean into the hard physical work knowing my Creator is RIGHT THERE on the other side.  I now believe, my Creator who keeps on pursuing me has made a way...a way for me to experience what I needed to fill my void.  No one can go back in time and change history but this is different and even better.  I have the benefit of what history has created in me and a new appreciation of what I'm being provided when I LEAN WAY IN.  Leaning into my strong became my spouse to emotionally lean on. 

During months of training for IMTUF (spring, summer, fall of 2016) and especially afterward I had this gut feeling that I could not describe in any other way than a "gut feeling".  It was a sense I was on the verge of something big was going to happen that was going to really catapult my life in terms of these relationships.  I wasn't sure what exactly this would be or how it would manifest...not at the time. 

A Test of Faith - 12/15/2016

Wait!  WHAT?  That's right.  I'm late.  WAIT!! WHAT??!!  How late?  Ummm... a week.  Now the fact that my bra is too tight and I gained three pounds last week for some bizarre unknown reason is making horrible sense. 

I woke up one Sunday AM with that tell tale nausea that fits only one condition.  I mentally spiraled very quickly.  A test.  That will help me see the truth.  I have an IUD.  THEY ARE 99.3% EFFECTIVE!  Not to mention, I'm 41 yrs old and have five children.  Maybe, you didn't get that part.  I'M FOURTY ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I don't want any more children.  I'm totally satisfied with the number of babes I have birthed and I love them, they are all healthy and thriving.  I am running again... a LOT!  I'm signed up for a 100K in July for crying out loud.  THIS. CAN. NOT. BE. HAPPENING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I called my doctor immediately and was greeted with her concerned tone.  I stopped by the next morning for a blood draw to check hormone levels.  I was to come in the following day for an ultrasound and doc apt.  My doctor called me personally before my visit to tell me my hormone levels were very high and she fully expected to see a pregnancy on ultrasound.  The only question was if the pregnancy was going to be in the uterus or in a fallopian tube.  Well thank god.  I still have hope.  I'm sure the pregnancy will be in a tube.  That will mean I have surgery to remove the tubal pregnancy and then she can remove every freaking reproductive organ in my body.  I drove to the doctor's office later that afternoon with a feeling of major dread.  This is just not happening right now.  It's almost Thanksgiving and I'm NOT thankful in any way, shape or form! 

"Amy?", the ultrasound tech calls me as I try to be non-existent in the waiting room fully of happily expecting mommy's.  All the fun times of an internal ultrasound....and if you've ever had one, you know what I mean with the level of awkwardness!  Nonetheless, she started the ultrasound and there was the sac including a tiny blob firmly planted IN MY FREAKING UTERUS!  My heart sunk.  She zoomed in on the little blob.  THERE WAS A HEART BEAT!!!!!!!!!!  I began to sob.  Everything I thought I was doing in my life is no longer.  I already know what this means for me.  This has to be the worst thing that has ever happened to me (or so I told myself).  She then began to measure my ovaries.  During one of the measurements I said, "Doesn't that ovary just look tired?!  I think it's just too tired to do this!"  She laughed and said "Is your husband at the bar right now?".  I didn't reply.  I don't have a husband.  That felt like a dagger even on top of everything else I was looking at.  Six weeks and one day gestation.  Due date: July 18, 2017.  My life flashed before my eyes. 

The next two weeks was spent mostly crying.  Crying on the way to work and on the way home.  Crying during lunch and crying myself to sleep.  Sometimes, even crying while I forced myself to cook food that all looked and smelled like different forms of vomit.  Crying because....well the bottom line is, I'm selfish.  I worked like a maniac over the spring and summer to lose weight and get my running game back...at least to some degree.  I didn't finish IMTUF (AGAIN!) but I had a strong performance at a 55K in July and felt strongly about my running self again.  I felt like I was getting my strong back physically, and mentally too.  Now I get to watch all of that go out the window.  I've been trying to run still....it's like running underwater.  I cannot breathe.  My HR is through the roof.  So I walk.  The other day, I walked 5.5 miles and the next day my glutes and hips were sore.  WHAT THE?!  This is my new norm....sigh......... 

Faith.  Faithfulness is a fruit of the Spirit.  What in the honking heck does that mean anyway?  The only way I could sleep at night is by deducting my circumstances into what looked like a math equation.  IF, THEN.  If I am a faith person....If I'm a Jesus person...... Then, this must be a miracle.  This is a purposeful miracle that clearly was not a random act of punishment.  AND If I believe those things, then I also believe that this purposeful miracle is a gift rather than a punishment.  I don't believe my loving Creator allows life that is not FOR purpose.  And I also believe that I don't understand His ways.  This is the truth that I live by and why I would chose anything different in these moments is beside me.  I have nothing objective to put on a list of why I should believe this way.  I don't have a path of how we will fit now seven people in our already exploding 1400 sq ft home.  I don't have a clue how I will survive this emotionally and physically again.  I've said so many times in the last year that I was so glad to not be having any more children, to be finally moving on from this place.  Nonetheless, here I am.  I realized, it is by way of faith that I can believe I will be cared for, believe that this little one who has yet to be born, was created with a purpose and was not a random act of crazy circumstances.  Faith.  It's my way of living intentionally.  It is my privilege to live in faith.  ***long exhale***

Did I consider terminating this pregnancy?  ABSOLUTELY!  Especially when I found out I was early enough that it would be a matter of taking a pill that would cause me to miscarry.  I appreciated the fact that I had a choice and was going to allow myself to go through the process of deciding.  In the end, my feet were firmly planted in the place of allowing this babe to grow and take over my body for a short period.  I hate how I look when I'm pregnant.....in a million ways.  I hate how I feel when I'm pregnant...in a billion more ways.  I suppose that is my gift to my unborn babe....a gift of allowing something to happen in spite of how I feel....which is horrible, inside and out while a little cutie pie is formed and growing on the inside. 

So now what?  We carry on.  We met with some builders to see about remodeling and adding on to our home.  We are looking at other properties with bigger homes.  Just last night I woke up worried about a name for the child.  I chose to see the positive and focus on the fact that this is a baby.  Not a liver transplant or something catastrophic.  My attitude is critical.  What I focus on will grow....meaning, if I focus on all the things I am not doing and ways that I am temporarily limited, this is going to suck.  However, if I focus on the excitement of possibility, the good, the LIFE that is being created, there is potential for contentment and joy....that IS MY middle name after all.  : )  I am choosing day by day to get up, be grateful and live in faith that just as this babe clearly has a purpose, I do too...and it's not just giving birth....which by the way, I'm seriously considering using drugs this time.  After so many natural births, it's starting to get over rated!  I digress.....

I generally go into 100 mile (or longy long) runs with some kind of mental mantra and while this is not a 100 mile run, mentally it feels like it (exponentially so).  My mantra is: I look forward with anticipation to knowing this little cutie pot that I have not yet held in my arms.  One last time I get to experience the feeling of a cutie growing in my belly.  One more time I will go through the agony of giving birth...I choose faith and gratitude. 

It happens in the hard, lean WAY in - 09/03/2016

Jon and I went up to McCall late on Friday night.  It was nearly dark when we left Nampa...Joy safely tucked in bed with G'ma at the house to care for our precious piece of life.  We arrived exhausted from a long week of firsts, first xc meet (Jon is the coach), first week of school for kids, first week of full volleyball games, etc.  I slept in the back of the Durango with the dog.  Jon slept on the ground outside.  I didn't set an alarm but woke up about 6:45am with some light.  We got up and quickly got to work since we two summits to climb and some miles to run in between. 

In the HARD places, is where the real work happens.  I'm trying to focus on the shedding of my old self which looks more like scar tissue being broken up or like a sledge hammer breaking up concrete.  Once these things are loosened up, it gives way for water, air and sunshine that cultivates growth for a sprout that is my true thirsty self, so desperate to drink and grow.  I want to develop this growth.  This way of BEING, me being the self I was created for and meant to BE from the beginning.  This manifested on trail of the second of two HARD climbs for our run.  The climb up Snowslide (first climb) is a crazy level of hardness.  Jon was staying behind me and this was bothering me so much.  He kept saying he just wanted to go at my pace, that bugged me to an inappropriate level.  Jon is experienced on trails, stronger than any human man I've known.  Never once was he on my heels or doing anything annoying, it was just that he was behind me, potentially watching me.  This was clearly MY issue and about me, nothing that he was doing.  I was so frustrated and eventually demanded that he go in front.  I didn't want to be responsible for his training, or lack thereof.  He said "I am my own person and I can make sure I get my training needs met".  Nonetheless, he went on.  I kept asking myself what the big deal was and why couldn't I be okay with him behind me.  

Enter a couple of hours later as we are climbing up the Fall Creek trail (second climb) which is another ass killer of a climb.  Jon was running ahead of me and would run back to where I was a couple of times, just to say hi and then carry on.  Eventually he had stopped to give the dog water and I was in a good rhythm so I passed him.  We had just over a mile of steep climbing to do.  Because of my raw mental state (what happens with miles on end of 1000' of gain per mile) I got very upset after he and the dog caught up to me to just stay behind me.  In an exacerbated fashion, he did not understand why I couldn't be okay with him just hanging back behind.  He went ahead in a tone of being stonewalled and I felt bad knowing this was about me and my issue.  He did not return to check on me this time...I asked myself repeatedly, WHY CAN I NOT BE OKAY WITH HIM BEHIND ME?!  I nearly asked it out loud.  The answer was loud and clear.  I want Jon to think I am strong.  I want him to think good of me and I desire his acknowledgement of this.  Having him behind me on a climb is NOT showing him strength.  It's showing him my frailty.  This...THIS...is my scar tissue, concrete, old ways of being.  Giving power to the man in my life that doesn't belong to him.  Whether it's my dad, my adult son, or the man in my life, the power of knowing I am strong doesn't belong to a person.  That power should rest safely in my spirit.  Climbing is my relative weakness.  It exposes the side of me that stops for rests.  It lays raw this part of me that I don't like.  To show that side of me to the one I've given power of deciding whether or not I am strong is like a lose-lose situation.  In that brutally exposed moment of seeing the scar tissue/concrete for what it is, I began to lose my composure.  I was still heavily climbing and could not keep my breathing.  I bent over, hands on knees and had some minutes of letting myself cry at what I saw.  Finally, I stood up AND CARRIED ON!  This new idea of what I had just realized was sitting very heavy on my heart.  I knew what I had seen was true.  The extremely overwhelming idea of how I could ever change was daunting to say the least.  I crested the summit and took some pictures.  We started heading down and I began to ask my Creator, how will I ever be able to know that I'm good/strong in my weaknesses if it doesn't come from my Dad or any other man I've given said power to?  It's not going to be relative to others or dependent on any other human.  In the same way I know I'm strong enough for other things, I will learn and know in my depths that I am strong on the climb, in life, in whatever.  I will know this and grow this sprout of knowing.  Period! 

It felt exhaustive mentally to do this work. A mentor of mine says the reason people don't do this work is because it's hard.  A couple weeks ago when I visited with her she asked, "Do you know why people don't do this kind of inner work?"  I replied, "Yes I know why.  Because it's so hard."  I added, "You know why people don't run 100 miles?"  She quickly smirked and said "Yes, I do!".  I won't quit.  I won't quit on myself, I won't quit at working on myself and I won't quit at IMTUF!