Heartache on Christmas

The holidays are hard for multiple people for multiple reasons. Missing family members, comparison sneaks in, seasonal depression.. but the one that isn’t talked about much is the heartache of a special needs parent on Christmas.

When I first found out I was pregnant with Ashtyn I pictured each birthday, holiday, all the milestones. What I pictured vanished once her diagnosis became our reality. A hole started to form in my heart. No first words, steps, cake smashes, opening presents, temper tantrums.

Something so simple happened yesterday that sent sadness shooting into my body. Traveling home, we stopped at a gas station. As I was coming out of the bathroom a little boy and his father were passing the coolers. With all his might and the cutest country accent the little boy said, “oh I sure hope that they have my chocolate milk.” I walked out of the gas station thinking “Oh, how I wish I could walk into gas stations with my little girl holding my hand.”

Christmas shopping is hard, too. Ashtyn officially crossed into the toddler isle a few months ago, which was a whole other tear jerking event. So, shopping for clothes is about it when it comes to presents. We are still in the baby isle for toys, because anything else would just collect dust. Leaving a heartache for more.

I sound like I’m complaining. I’m not. Ashtyn is here. Her third Christmas with us, that is a victory in my book. I’m so in love with my little girl. But sometimes, I still get the visions I had when I was first pregnant – and long for them with every bone in my body.

Having a child with special needs opens your eyes to so much. I wouldn’t trade the lessons I have learned for anything. I savor every moment. I take time to “smell the roses”. I get to be who she is dependent on for a little while longer, and that makes my heart so happy. Every holiday, birthday, and event is a blessing and so so SO cherished.

If you happen to be a special needs parent reading this: I see you. I feel your pain. You are not alone even though it feels like it. You’re doing amazing. If you happen to know a special needs parent- BE PATIENT. It’s a tough time right now. We, special needs parents, walk into every situation with an escape route knowing that sometimes our children can’t handle the hustle and bustle that comes with the holiday season. We aren’t being rude, we are just prepared. We are very aware of the “pity face”. We smile, but something breaks a little every time. We don’t need your pity. We need love and support. Most of all, love our child.

My family loves Christmas. We love what it represents and getting to celebrate with family and friends. We are very thankful for our tiny circle of support. We sincerely hope you have a very merry Christmas and a happy new year!

A n x i e t y

Whew. Talk about being vulnerable. Here we go.

One thing about me that I try to mask is the fact I have crippling anxiety. Like up 24 hours, needs four weighted blankets to fall asleep, sensory overload anxiety.

I’ve had it for as long as I remember. I can distinctly recall praying to the Lord that my house wouldn’t burn down while we were gone. I’d pray that my dad would drive safe so he didn’t get in an accident. I would worry about my siblings getting kidnapped. Just crazy stuff that a 10 year old shouldn’t worry about. I never talked about it. Mom and dad, if you’re reading this, hello. I should have come to you. But my anxiety told me I was too much of a burden anyways.

I’m 25 now, but I remember things from my childhood. Conversations I’ve had with friends and what I said, CRYING in class because my penmanship was ugly, sleepovers I wasn’t invited too, things that I did. They play in my head over and over and give me just as much anxiety now as they did then.

Those past experiences keep me from doing things now. I tried overcoming one of those obstacles the other day- praying out loud over someone. Ya’ll I was shaking. Not in the Holy Ghost either. As soon as I was done, anxiety IMMEDIATELY crept in. “That was the dumbest prayer. Do you even know how to pray. That prayer probably didn’t even help the situation, might have even made it worse. You’re never going to be asked to pray for someone again.” This prayer will stick with me for the rest of forever. Like a movie reel. And that within itself gives me anxiety.

I’ve had panic attacks in the past. Some worse than others. This last one though…. Never again do I want to experience anything like it.. Recently some possible changes were thrown at me. Changes I didn’t expect or want. To be honest, I still don’t. I’m praying that something else works out. These possibilities knocked me into a downward spiral. I cried in front of coworkers, students saw the leftover tear marks, I started questioning my abilities, planning for plan B, C, D, and E if my plan A didn’t work. This attack lasted for DAYS. No exaggeration. I got sick from it, couldn’t get out of bed, cried for hours on end just thinking about it.

I wish anxiety had an off switch. And this is where Christian people say, “There is. His name is Jesus.” Don’t get me wrong here, Jesus is a miracle worker. He can do all things, including taking anxiety away. That just isn’t the case for me, yet. Which is okay. Does it mean I stop praying about it? Nope. I pray over it daily. But because my anxiety isn’t “cured” doesn’t make me less of a Christian. Nor does it mean Jesus loves me less than those who have been freed.

I’ve been on a journey to overcome anxiety. Some days are better than others, some I can’t even get out of bed. I was praying one day and I felt the Lord gave me this message “situations arise. My love is not situational. It is for every situation. My grace is for every situation. My love is for every situation.” Talk about being floored.

I know at times in my walk with The Lord I have made God to be situational. I’ve questioned his goodness in the dark time and I’ve praised Him like never before in the good times – as if in the dark times He wasn’t there and in the good times He became human again and blessed me like never before. The fact of the matter is, is that He is just as good in the bad times as He is in the good. He is good at being God. He does not change. His grace and mercy do not change. His love does not change.

Having a relationship with Jesus is having open access to all that He gives us peace, comfort, security, love. He gives it all to us as a gift. A gift is something we have to receive and open ourselves. Jesus doesn’t force anything upon us, I’m sure at times He wants to. I can just see Him wanting to shout “Hey! Cassidy! Here’s my peace I gave to you forever ago. Look right here!” And throwing it at my face. It’s a lesson we have learn, and probably the most valuable. He doesn’t set us up for failure, He gives us everything we need to thrive.

This lesson is something I’m learning daily. I’ve been studying peace after the whole down with anxiety for days on end shebaccle. And one of my favorite scriptures comes from John 14. The Passion Translation makes it super easy to catch a glimpse of who Jesus is and His heart for us: “I leave the gift of peace with you—my peace. Not the kind of fragile peace given by the world, but my perfect peace. Don’t yield to fear or be troubled in your hearts—instead, be courageous!” We can be courageous because God’s peace isn’t fragile, but perfect.

Changes

I’m not the woman I was five years ago, heck I’m not the same woman I was a month ago. Life has a way of changing people, but the Holy Spirit has a way of changing you even more.

When I started my journey with the Lord I really had no idea what I was doing, I still don’t, but thats besides the point. I grew up in church. My dad was my youth pastor or my pastor for the longest time. I don’t ever remember a time where I didn’t know about the Lord. But it really wasn’t until my sophomore year in college I began my journey to KNOW the Lord.

When I started to dedicate my life to Him, a lot of things started to change. Things came to my mind that I had totally forgotten about, hurt was exposed, scabs were ripped open. It was terrifying to go through- even more so because I was alone. Friendships dropped and I didn’t have family around. I didn’t know where to turn, I didn’t know why this was happening. I thought I had buried it enough, so that they would never see the light of day again.

The truth is, I was hurting. Deeply. With the old, and now with the new. The new loss of friendships, the overbearing sense of loneliness, and the not knowing why. Burrying was not enough, it needed to be healed. I don’t know what flipped or when it flipped, but I knew my heartache was trying to teach me something. I knew my loneliness was so that I could learn to rely on my Heavenly Father. I knew the scabs being opened and the hurt being exposed was so that I could surrender those things and be freed. Freedom that only comes from The Father.

Total surrender is crazy scary. It still is for me. I’m a little bit of a control freak and hate to not have my hands in every aspect of my life. I hate surprises, not the ones from my husband, but the ones where I’m blindsided and hit by a truck, Ashtyn’s diagnosis for example. I think it comes from being moved around my whole life, just when I was getting comfortable it was time to be uprooted. Leaving friends, leaving schools, leaving churches, it was all out of my control and I hated it. I think this is also why I don’t put myself out there as much as I would like. It’s a fear that lives deep inside of me. I’d like to say lived, but that wouldn’t be honest. I still have flaws and damage, but I’m a work in progress.

The Lord loves every part of me, my stubbornness, control freakness, my humor, my questioning and adventurous heart. Every part. Nothing I do or say or think surprises Him, because He KNOWS me. I find that very comforting, He is where I place my roots. He cares about me. He loves me.

I don’t think I would have these revelations without Jesus and His spirit. I’m not one of those people who believes that if I stub my toe the Devil is out to get me or the cliché that everything happens for a reason. But I do believe that The Lord operates in all things. He is always moving, so exposing my past hurts, ripping open wounds, was just another step in His divine operation.

Do I still struggle? As a mom, more than ever. Do the past hurts play in my mind like I have them on replay? Oh yes. Do I have days where I want to shut down and cry? Absolutely. But I now know who I can turn to. I can wrap all the hurt, wounds, and fear up and give it to the Lord. He is a good Father, He heals, He delivers, He restores.

My favorite place to be is in His presence. There is room for you, too.

Change is good. Change is necessary.

Part 2

I don’t even know if this is going to actually be readable. I’ve sat down time and time again trying to start this, but just couldn’t. It wasn’t “writer’s block.” It was just that I couldn’t find the words to really express what our life was like when this happened. The emotions I went through, the roller coaster that derailed about 70 times, the not knowing, the emptiness. How does one even begin to reopen that box and put words on a page? Nothing I wrote did any justice to what it was actually like.

Let’s recap: Ultrasound confirmed we were having a girl. Ultrasound came up abnormal. Doctor made appointment with high risk the next day. Alex and Cassidy=broken.

I remember being so angry that I physically became ill. I was shaking, I couldn’t think straight. I texted my dad “start praying for your grandbaby now.” Alex called our pastors and prayer warriors. All of them had about 85 questions each, and we just had to tell them what we knew- that there was fluid on her brain. They immediately began praying that the healing anointing would flow from God and touch our baby girl. Alex anointed my belly and we both just started pleading with God. “Please Lord, please” was all that I could utter. I’m not actually sure what happened the rest of the day, but I know that Alex and I were just silent. Not that we were mad at each other, but because we didn’t have words to say.

Here Alex was watching his wife hurt and knowing his baby was “hurting” as well, and knowing that there was absolutely no words to help ease the pain. Here I was, being the person I am, running every last scenario through my head. Torturing myself on google. Going through our ultrasound pictures and imagining what went wrong. Did I eat something I wasn’t supposed to? Did I do something within the six weeks I didn’t know I was pregnant? Was it something I was being punished for?

Again, we prayed right before we went to sleep, “Lord. please heal our baby. Please let the fluid be gone tomorrow.”

When the next morning came around, Alex again anointed my belly. And we prayed and asked God to be with us in the room. And He was, just not in the way we had hoped. The lady came in, put the warm jelly on my stomach, and started taking many pictures of our sweet blessing. She was nice, talked to us the whole time, just trying to ease the tension in the room. She left, and again. We prayed. We were so devastated with the doctor came in.

“I’m afraid that it’s not good news.” My heart sank. The next words that came out of his mouth could have probably killed me. “It’s just not fluid, your daughter is missing parts of her brain. And she probably won’t survive past the second trimester.” I was gone. Again, my world went black. I came through as the doctor informed me about my “options.” I quickly jumped up and shut him down real fast.

He then said that I should do further testing. Before we left the doctor ordered an amniocentesis, and a conference call with a genetic counselor. Then he left the room.

Alex and I again, just fell silent. Tears were coming out of my eyes without even realizing it. Yes, they were sad tears. And I would be lying if I said there weren’t angry tears, but most of them were cries to God. I wanted so bad to be mad at Him. I wanted to be able to throw a fit and question Him like I had so many times before, but this was different. Yes, I was completely broken, but I was also comforted in knowing that I serve a big God.

No, God didn’t answer our prayers the way WE wanted him to. But we did know that God is a miracle worker and the God of life. So right then and there, Alex and I decided that we were going to pray life and life more abundantly over her like The Word says in John 10:10. The enemy really did come and try to steal, kill and destroy, but he messed with the wrong family. We knew Who our miracle rested in! We weren’t going down without a fight, a fight that we knew was already won!

God gave us this beautiful baby girl for a reason; she was ours. We were going to do whatever we had to do for this precious gift to have a chance at life. It was something we didn’t and still don’t take lightly.

We didn’t know what the future held other than constant monitoring and testing. We didn’t know how to plan for Ashtyn. We knew we were in for a journey, one with many twists and turns. We still didn’t have a confirmation on what just what we were dealing with, so that made it even harder. Many names were spilled out of disorders that it could possibly have been, but it didn’t matter. We loved our sweet baby, and trusted Jesus to do the things only He can do!

Part 1

A year ago yesterday we announced our pregnancy! We were so excited and ready to be parents, as ready as any first time parents could be at 16 weeks pregnant. I think Alex even wrote on his announcement that “we are ready and open” or something like that, boy if we knew what was to come.

Alex and I were lucky enough to be able to have our anatomy scan a tad early. What started out as a very exciting day for us, turned out to be one of the worst days of our lives. I remember everything leading up to the appointment so clearly. I was wearing my favorite green pants, a gray sweater, a tan scarf, and my most comfortable booties. Alex dropped me off at the school, we kissed goodbye with the excitement of knowing we would find out what our little babe would be. I could barely concentrate while teaching my students, Ashtyn was very active that day, and I found myself looking at the clock willing it to just speed up. Alex met me out front, we held hands all the way to the doctor’s office discussing what we thought we were going to be having. I knew it was a girl, he thought it was a boy. Our name was called, and my heart skipped a beat.

Nothing could have prepared me for what was coming. I remember seeing her hands, counting fingers, looking at her long legs and toes, seeing her heart beat, and watching her wiggle. I was so in love. So much in love it actually took my breath away. I vowed right then and there to be the best mother I could possibly be. I started praying over the tiny little human, and in the middle of my prayer, my world went black. “Congratulations! It’s a girl. And there’s something wrong.”

I’m not actually sure what happened next. I heard the words: brain, fluid, underdeveloped, could be nothing. But I could not focus, the room was spinning, I felt something wet on my face, turns out I had been crying. My body was on fire. I couldn’t breathe. I was devastated. I know we didn’t go back out into the waiting room, but didn’t stay in the ultrasound room. I don’t know how I got where they put us, but I came through as the doctor came in. I guess I must have been in a daze of some sort, because the doctor was talking to Alex about the appointment he made for us with ROC- a high risk pregnancy doctor.

High risk? How could I be high risk? I just saw a beautiful baby girl with the longest legs and beautiful profile. “What do you mean high risk?” I muttered. The room went silent. “Well there is fluid-” the doctor began. “No. Cut it to me straight doc, what is wrong with my baby?” Alex quickly grabbed my hand and I snatched it away. “Stop coddling me, in your years of experience, what does this look like to you?” The doctor began uttering things off about hydrocephalus, getting a shunt, and blah blah blah. I tuned him out about 30 seconds before he started speaking.

I was SO mad. Mad at the ultrasound lady, mad at the doctor, mad at Alex, mad at everyone in the waiting room, mad at the stupid bird in the parking lot. I was HOT. How could this happen? How could this tiny human not be “perfect”? I prayed against illness and disease and ailments as soon as I found I was pregnant! So, what? Did God only answer my prayers about letting her be a girl, and ignore all my other requests? Was this a joke to him?

I became furious at God. I started yelling, questioning, screaming, and crying at him. I was so hurt and confused. Why God? Why? Why me? Why not the addicted to drugs mother? Why not the abusive mother? Why not the mother down the street? Why me? The one who has served you. The one who goes to church. The one who worships you. The one who does ministry. WHY? I was so hurt. I was so scared. I was so lost. I just didn’t know what else to do then question and yell at God. After all, he is the one who created mankind.

The thing about God is, is that he can handle feelings. He welcomed my anger. And the even cooler thing is, is when I was yelling and questioning, he never stopped loving me. He understood how I felt. He wrapped me in His arms and never let go. His goodness and mercy never faded.

Part 2 will dive even deeper into the start of our journey with Ashtyn and how good God is. Stay tuned!

July 19, 2018

One year ago today I found out that I was pregnant with our sweet baby. I did NOT have the normal crying tears of joy reaction. In fact, it was the total opposite. What should have been one of the best moments of my life turned out to be the scariest.

I remember this day being like any other. Chilling with my doggo, cleaning up the house, getting ready for the semester and boiling chicken for supper that night. I also remember losing my lunch over the smell of boiling chicken, something that had never bothered me before.

And then it hit me. Like a ton of bricks. Immediate panic. I whipped out my cycle tracker, sure enough… late. I thought back on the past couple of days and remembered cramps, tender breasts, and being more tired than usual. I didn’t pay any of these attention because they usually indicate that my cycle is around the corner, sorry TMI. I knew. I knew it before I even told Alex that I needed to go get a test. I knew that I was pregnant.

I went and bought not one, not two, not three, but FIVE pregnancy tests of varying type just to be sure. If you have never taken a pregnancy test before, it is as simple as peeing and waiting. Usually the wait is two-three minutes, but it didn’t take 10 seconds for the positive sign to appear. “Surely this is a false positive. It happened too fast. It didn’t take enough time to read accurately.” Who was I kidding, all five of them either spelled out pregnant or had that big ol’ blue positive sign. And I was devastated.

Don’t get me wrong, I have always wanted to be a mom. More than anything in the entire world. But I was about to enter into the most important semester of my life. I didn’t have time to be sick or for doctor appointments. I barely had time to blink, thanks to EdTPA. I had no idea how I was going to make it through. Ya’ll, talk to someone who has faced the demon that is edTPA and you will understand why I was freaking out. Alex and I were barely making it by in a one bedroom apartment, where the crap was I going to put a baby? How was I going to afford a baby, because one can’t work through student teaching? Diapers are expensive, guys. I knew this.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on you own understanding” really had a new meaning for me. The thing about God is that nothing surprises him. He is all knowing. He is all powerful. He is omnipresent. He knew Ashtyn would be given to us way before Alex and I did, ” “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you” says Jeremiah 1:5. God had already mapped this out. He knew what my load was during student teaching, and although I told God over and over and over that I didn’t know how I was going to work it out, He did.

Not only did I survive student teaching and pass edTPA, I graduated with honors. I just didn’t do this with being a “normal” pregnant, I knew at 18 weeks that there was a chance that Ashtyn may not survive. And I carried that weight with me every single day. But I pushed and pushed, and when I was weary God carried me miles at a time, without complaint. His peace was (and still is) so overwhelming and where I long to be each day.

God wants us to trust him. God wants to be able to walk our journey with us. And he wants to carry us when we are weary. He longs to be Jehovah Shalom. The hard part is getting over ourselves and letting him.