How did I get here?

Sometimes I find myself reminiscing about our time in Peoria. I think I'll always see our year in a Peoria as a dark spot on our life journey. Of course, it had some bright spots, namely Kara who has become a true sister to me over the years, but our overall experience there was full of pain, darkness, tears and struggle. And I guess, if I have to be really honest, it was really only that way for me. Tim has generally been fine everywhere we've lived, even when I've struggled to find my way in whatever state we were in.

But Peoria, it was so hard. I used to lie on the couch, stretching my arm out to my toddling baby just to let her know that my body was awake, even if my heart was shut off. I felt compelled to keep Mya busy every day, even if that meant I pushed myself to so many breaking points. And all the pretending I did for the blog, for my husband, and for my church made me feel so lonely. I look back and remember how sad I was and how I thought life would never be better than it was at that moment. Everything felt so heavy.

Now, years later, I am able to recognize a few things. First, I probably should've been medicated. I never realized how much I suffered from postpartum depression until my last two babies. If I could go back and apologize to Mya for every time I yelled at her for walking too heavily or laughing too loudly when I had finally gotten V to sleep, I'd go back in an instant and hold her tight and tell her just to be herself, even if that meant an occasional stomp or loud laugh. I'd also hold V more, knowing that she would one day become our best sleeper. Second, I'd realize that miscarriage is not something that can be swept under a rug or pushed aside. Even though Tim and I weren't necessarily ready for the baby that came and left too soon, it was still a baby, and having a miscarriage really changed my heart. Third, God never leaves. He may grow quiet, but he never leaves. I am still learning this lesson. I learn it once or twice a year. But man, I felt 100% alone that year and the few years that followed if I have to be honest. I only really began to feel him again just after Birdie was born, and I have no idea why I started to feel him again, but I am glad I did.

I look at the picture above and think how did we get from Peoria to here? Two kids felt like the death of me, and now we have five. Five!! Five growing, mostly functioning, snack-eating, curious kids. I breathe so much more now with five than I ever did with two. I realize situations are not always permanent. I realize being sad is a necessary part of life--one that I am well acquainted with at this point. I also know that joy is a necessary part of life, and feeling sadness only heightens the feeling of joy when it comes. I felt so much happiness as my kids goofed off on Michigan's campus taking these pictures. We all giggled so much, except when we thought Timmy would throw himself over the edge of the wall--then you saw all sizes of female hands reach out to catch him and pull him back to safety. Man, I am so glad I had four girls, and I extremely glad that I had them before having a boy. They are such natural nurturers and care givers.

Seven years ago in Peoria, I would never have thought that I would feel as much light as I do these days. I no longer wake up wishing to go immediately back to bed, unless it's Saturday morning at 6am. I no longer lie on the couch, but oh I wish I had the time! I no longer let the dinner dishes stack up for days; thank goodness for a dishwasher! I no longer pretend to be something I'm not. I am me all the time, for better or for worse. I believe most of the time, but I experience periods of doubt. But I am not afraid of doubt. I often welcome it. Doubt has led me to great faith.

These days I'm Janine--A mother of 5. An avid reader. A secret adventurer. A lover of chocolate. A despiser of video games. A teacher. A hand holder. A tight snuggler. An exercise maniac. A faith seeker. A listener. A neighbor. A good long-distance friend. A gummy bear sneaker. A late-night laugher. An editor. An A-list grocery shopper. A budget blower and keeper. A worrier. A loving daughter. A decent daughter-in-law. A wannabe letter writer. A trash collector. A litter picker-upper. An open book. I am me. And I like me. Seven years ago, I never thought I'd ever like me, but I do most of the time.