For the Love

If you remember my post from last week, Charlotte caught a stomach bug. Tuesday night was the worst in terms of amount of times she vomited, but she also threw up on Wednesday a few times and was rather pitiful. She did not sleep well on Wednesday night, and neither did I. I felt as though I couldn't get warm and never really felt comfortable. I also had an upset stomach of my own, although I never threw up.

Thursday morning I woke up feeling pretty queasy, and I thought, "Oh no, please oh please don't let me get sick!" But sure enough, I felt worse and worse as the day progressed. Charlotte seemed to be doing better, however, although she only wanted to sleep snuggled up to me, which I happily allowed her to do since she doesn't sit still much these days. Stephen came home around 1:45 to take his lunch break, and it wasn't a moment too soon. I felt as though all the energy had been slowly draining from my body all day long, so the minute he got home, I went to bed and slept until he had to go back to work at 4:15 (he obviously took an extended lunch break, haha). Charlotte had done well the whole day, so we were hopeful she'd be able to go to daycare. I continued to feel poorly and ended up going to sleep at 8:30.

Around 11:00 or 11:15 I awoke to the sounds of Charlotte crying screaming. Stephen got up to check on her, and after realizing that her screams had not quieted down after a few minutes, I pulled myself out of bed to see if I needed to help Stephen. He met me at the bedroom door and then promptly sat down on the floor, telling me he felt like he was going to pass out and that Charlotte had thrown up in her crib. I rushed to her and saw her covered in throw up and screaming in misery. I quickly picked her up and went to the guest bathroom, where I started the bath and then set her on the counter so I could wipe off her face while the tub filled.

The last thing I remember is reaching to get a washcloth.
Next thing I know, Stephen was gently shaking me and calling my name over and over. I looked around and found myself on the floor of the bathroom. I was completely confused, having no idea what had happened. Then I looked behind me and saw the hole in our bathroom wall.


Immediately I said, "What happened? Did I do that?" I was in complete disbelief, but Stephen told me he'd been lying on the floor by our bedroom when he heard a loud thump. He came into the bathroom to find me unresponsive and slumped against the wall. Later he said initially he didn't even realize that I had passed out but just though that I was resting for a minute, until I didn't respond to him calling my name. Then as he was talking to me, he started looking really pale and said he felt faint. We're both a little fuzzy on the details, but I think I told him to sit down. Meanwhile, at some point I realized that Charlotte remarkably ended up in the bathroom sink, when she could have easily crawled right off the edge of the bathroom counter! She had gotten over her initial displeasure and waved at me as I went to pick her up out of the sink and set her on the floor.

Then I realized that Stephen was being very still.

When I tried calling his name, I got no answer. I was freaking out at this point because his eyes were open but he was not responding, Charlotte was still covered in puke, and I still felt very lightheaded and had a throbbing headache. I had no idea what to do since it was approaching midnight at this point. Stephen eventually roused, but we were both practically incapacitated and just sat on the bathroom floor with Charlotte in between us, not knowing what we were going to do. I decided to call my parents, who live in Memphis (just an hour away from us). I'm sure I sounded barely comprehensible to them, but they told me to calm down and that they would be on their way as soon as they could but that I needed to call someone in Jackson in the meantime to come over and help. I called my wonderful friend and former college roommate, Marya, and she didn't hesitate to come over.

I'm so thankful that Marya was able to come and help because I have no idea what Stephen and I would have done. Charlotte still needed a bath, and her crib sheet needed to be changed, but neither of us had the energy for anything. I sent Stephen to bed, where he ended up emptying the contents of his stomach, and after Marya and I determined that I was not bleeding anywhere, I sat in the recliner while she took the sheets off the crib, started a load of laundry, got Charlotte bathed and changed into fresh pjs, and held her. She stayed with me until my parents arrived at 1:30. They watched Charlotte and eventually soothed her back to sleep. I think I fell asleep somewhere around 3:30 or 4:00.

Thus concluded the worst night I remember experiencing. There is nothing so terrible as having a sick child and then being incapable of caring for her. I am beyond grateful to God for protecting Charlotte when I passed out, and I am forever indebted to Marya for coming over at such a late hour. And my sweet, fabulous parents ended up staying until Saturday so they could help us with Charlotte. They put themselves at risk of getting sick because they love us. Just when I thought my parents couldn't be more awesome, they surprised me again. I am so blessed.

But I still have a hole in my bathroom wall.

On Monday I was looking at the website for the half marathon I'm going to run, and I came across these words: No Headphones.

WHAT?

I'm not gonna lie, I'm completely freaking out about this. I have never run without music or a podcast or an audio book playing in my ears. NEVER. Music helps me get through the rough patches in my runs, gets me excited and inspired, and keeps me smiling. How will I make it through 13.1 miles without music? Liz, my former roomie and an avid runner (Hi, Liz!) told me she runs without music all the time and that it can be very refreshing to just listen to the sound of her feet hitting the ground and that it gives her the chance to think about things, so clearly it is possible to run without music. I'm just not sure I'm going to like it.

Of course, the only way to find out is to try it, so this weekend for my long run, I am going to leave my iPod at home. (How lame is it that just writing that out scares me a bit?) I am just hoping I can get through it. Naturally, I will report back after the run to let you all know how it goes.

Do you exercise with or without music? If you run without music, do you have any tips for me??

And THANK YOU for all of your support and encouragement. You guys really are the greatest!

The fabulous Jen left the following comment on my last post: "Lady lady lady, so many people are reading your blog right now and are thinking 'wow, I wish I could run a 5K.'" I immediately felt bad for whining about my time, especially when I was so annoyed by the woman at the race who talked about her "slow" time. I should be thankful I had the chance to run at all. I should be thankful for what my legs have gotten me through, for all the miles I've walked and run. Considering the fact that a few years ago I never would have even considered running, I've come a long way.

One of my biggest flaws is my tendency to dwell on the negative, and I need to be more aware of how this negativity manifests itself, not just in weight loss but in all areas of my life. If I am anticipating an event in my life, I usually don't expect much beforehand because I am too busy thinking of all the things that can go wrong. I used to tell myself that not getting my hopes up about things just protected me from disappointment, but really, I'm just not brave enough to dream. I'm too scared to truly let myself imagine great things. What does this say about me and my faith in God? Certainly nothing good. I want to know and believe deep deep down that He is able to do "immeasurably more" than all I ask or imagine. I don't want to be plagued by doubt and fear. That is no way to live life, especially not a life that is meant to glorify God.

Are you brave enough to dream?

Ever since I first entered kindergarten, I have adored the first day of school.  Other children, my brother included, screamed and cried and clung to their mom's skirts, despairing at thought of having to enter that classroom, but me?  I happily waved to mom and skipped jauntily into the classroom, eager to conquer the kindergarten arena.  I loved seeing all of the desks neatly arranged, the cubby holes ready and waiting to be filled, the decorations on the walls beckoning me closer, and of course, the Play-Doh.  I was hooked.  Each year, the night before the first day of school would come, and I would hardly be able to sleep for the excitement of wondering who would be in my class, where I would sit, what we would learn, what my teacher would be like, and I almost always woke up before I needed to, so anxious was I to start a new school year.  
New school years are new beginnings.  The grades from last year have been replaced with a clean slate (except within my mind, where I still can recall getting my first B in math, in fifth grade no less), the petty fights with friends have been healed by the summer months, and the promises of new experiences, new friends, and new knowledge shimmer in the morning sunlight. 

Tomorrow I'm getting a physical, and I'm not gonna lie: I'm scared. And honestly, I wouldn't even be getting one if my husband hadn't scheduled the appointment for me. I know it will be good for me to see exactly where I am and how my body is doing, but part of me doesn't want to know. I am afraid the doctor will tell me that I have a list a mile long of things that are wrong with me, and I just don't know how I'll deal with that. I know it's useless to worry and there's nothing I can do right now, but I'm worried anyway. I'm especially worried that I have diabetes because it runs on both sides of my family, and it's really amazing that I haven't gotten it yet because of the lifestyle I was living before January of this year. I'm hoping that all of the hard work I've put in this year will show itself at the physical, but what if it doesn't? What if I have high blood pressure and diabetes and high cholesterol and who knows what else? What if all the exercise I've done has been in vain? Part of me knows that I'm just being ridiculous, and another part of me just wants to get it over with and know one way or the other. If you think about it, say a prayer for me. My appointment is Thursday at 1:30. I really really hope I don't get any bad news.

To combat this fear, or any fear, there's only one solution: God's Word. I shouldn't fear some silly physical or anything else; God is not wringing His hands and worrying about tomorrow or anything else, so why should I, when my life is in His more than capable hands? I need to have the fear of the Lord! So I looked up several verses and will post them here, in case someone reading this needs to be reminded that God is in control, and HE has the power!

Psalm 27:1: The LORD is my light and my salvation— whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life— of whom shall I be afraid?

Psalm 34:4: I sought the LORD, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears.

Psalm 145:18-19: The LORD is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth. He fulfills the desires of those who fear him; he hears their cry and saves them.

Isaiah 41:10, 13: So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand...For I am the LORD, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.

Matthew 6:25, 34: Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes?...Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

Romans 8:14-15: ...because those who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we cry, "Abba, Father."

EDIT: Okay, I'm sad. I just checked Vanderbilt's web site, and I didn't get into their program. I didn't really think I would, and I didn't really even want to go there as much as some of the other schools, but it still totally stinks. I would think they'd at least send me a letter, but instead I get the information online (the "letter" was dated March 14, so if they had sent one, I would have gotten it by now). How nice and impersonal. Rejection stinks. I think I'll go cry now.

Okay, so now I have time to elaborate a bit more about my newly-discovered fear of silence. Is there a phobia for that? Anyone know so it'll save me the time of having to look it up? Anyway, I was thinking about this yesterday as I was driving back to Memphis in the early a.m. after spending the night with a friend in Jackson. I started out with the radio off b/c I was so sleepy I didn't feel like listening to it, but the silence was almost a physical presence in the car with me, and I couldn't handle it. Is that weird? Probably, but I've always known I was little kooky. For a brief moment I thought, "You know, this would be a good time to spend just praying and praising God." But I couldn't do it. I felt this inexplicable urge to listen to music. So at first I put on a Shane and Shane CD and tried praying with that on, thinking that at least I'd have "spiritual" music to accompany my attempt at intimacy with God. After only a few minutes, though, I quit because I realized that I wasn't focused on my prayer at all; I was humming along to the songs.

Why is it so hard for me to be in a silent car, or in a silent office? I always have to have noise of some sort, even when I go to sleep at night. (I'm so thankful for the sleep timer on my iPod.) I think it basically boils down to a fear of being alone with my thoughts. By nature I'm a pretty introspective individual--sometimes a little too much so--but even when I write I have classical music or jazz playing in the background. Am I not able to think without external stimulation? I certainly hope not! Perhaps it's not so much a fear of my thoughts, but a fear of what God would say to me were I to be silent and allow Him to speak to me. I'm not saying I never have silent times before God, but more often than not my times with God are full of my endless rambling, and God can't really get a word in edgewise. What's funny is that if I am with another friend and it's quiet, I don't mind if I feel like it's a companionable, comfortable silence, and not a strained one. Sometimes it's nice to be with someone you love and not have to say anything. But when I'm alone it's an entirely different story. I was hoping that in writing this I would have clarified things for myself, but I don't really know that I have. So I'm sending this out to my dear readers and friends, in the hopes that perhaps I'm not the only one unwilling to embrace the silence.

Fear is an ugly thing. Recently I've found myself consumed by it, and it's eating away at my peace and my sanity, ripping through truth and implanting lies. I was reading Psalm 27 last night ("The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life, of whom shall I be afraid?") and it occurred to me that whereas in that psalm David had a legitimate fear (if fear can actually be legitimate)of people who were seeking him out, I don't fear the "who" but the "what if". David had real problems; I just have phantoms of problems. For example, what if none of the schools I applied to give me money? What if I get in but then I flunk out? What if I am stuck living with my parents for the rest of my life? What if I never find a job I love? What if I get married and have kids and then find out that I'm a terrible mother and wife? What if I don't get married? What if, what if, what if...and the thoughts go on and on until I feel like I'm going to explode. And looking at the list of things I just typed I am reminded once again that I have no control over any of it, and that more than likely these things I am afraid of happening won't happen. And if they do, it's not like God will leave me to fend for myself. No, for even though I am faithless and unfaithful, God is ever faithful and true to His Word. I think it's time to kick fear out and let peace in...

"Oh, the differences that often are between everything we want and what we really need." Nichole Nordeman

Today I got an email from Baylor telling me I have been accepted to their PhD program. However, the brief excitement that caused was immediately followed by disappointment, as it also said they could not offer me an assistantship. Apparently, this year they had an unusually large number of applicants but no budget increase, so they are limited to offering assistantships to the top 5 applicants. I am ranked tenth. So I got in, but I am not getting any funding, which means I'm not going. I am trying not to be upset or worried, but at the moment it's not working so well. Of course, I just got the email an hour ago, so it's all still fresh. The worse thing is that at the end of the email, he (the director of the grad program) said that with my qualifications I would be sure to get into a number of other accomplished programs who would offer me funding, but I have my doubts about that. I applied to good schools (Notre Dame, Vanderbilt, U of I, UGA, and Knoxville), so if Baylor isn't going to give me any funding, what are my chances of getting it from other schools? I didn't really apply to any "safety" schools, which I guess was stupid on my part.

In all honesty, I am scared because when I started this whole process I prayed that if God didn't want me to attend graduate school that I wouldn't get funding from any of the schools, and now I'm afraid that's going to come true. Then what? Become a secretary for the rest of my life? Absolutely not! I'd rather cut off my arm. So if you're reading this, please pray for me, that I would trust God and not continue to freak out as I am doing right now, and that I would be prepared for whatever lies ahead.