More than Rubies

Mamas, let’s try something for a minute.  Close your tired eyes and imagine you weren’t a mama, and you weren’t a wife.  Instead, you were a missionary.  Imagine you lived in a foreign land – a land where the people had never heard of Jesus.  They had never read the Bible, in fact, they don’t even speak English and you don’t have a copy of the scriptures in their language.  Imagine that they are a culture that doesn’t know grace. Imagine they are a culture that is dying out because they handle conflict with anger and violence.  People die because they get injuries or illnesses that they don’t know how to treat.  They need to learn to plant gardens, to make clean water, to work as a team.  

And you, maybe with another person or two, are responsible for this.  You heard God loud and clear.  He told you to go.  He told you to bring the Good News and teach and care and love.  There are times when it’s hot there, it’s miserable and all you want to do is go into an air conditioned restaurant like you could back home but instead you’re out in the fields showing women how to garden.  And there are times when the people are arguing and you’re scared but instead you keep calm and you share peace.  And there are times when you want to give up, because it’s too much and you can’t remember how you got here or why and you can’t see God’s hand in it any more.  And a lot of people think maybe it’s a waste of time or it’s too much of a sacrifice and you’d just be happier working as a teacher in a comfy classroom with healthy children who go home to their own parents at night.  

But, you know this is your calling. And you know this is who are you, right now, in this moment and it’s exactly who you are supposed to be.  And even when it doesn’t feel like it, it’s enough.  

Mama… YOU ARE A MISSIONARY.  Right now, in your home, in your life, you are a missionary.  

Your little people, they have never heard of Jesus.  They’ve never read the Bible and they won’t for quite a few years, but even then you’ll have to translate into “kid”.  You have to forgive them over and over because they don’t come out knowing grace. They need to learn to express their anger and frustration with words, not with hitting, screaming and biting.  Because if you don’t teach them, they’ll turn into mean, selfish bullies.  You have to teach them to keep themselves clean, to eat and prepare healthy food.  You have to teach them how to live.  

And you, and probably with your husband {and maybe a helpful grandparent and an awesome community} are responsible for this.  You heard God loud and clear {even if it was a complete shock to see those little pink lines}.  He told you to go into the missionfield of mommyhood. He told you to bring the Good News, to teach and care and love. And sometimes you’re really tired and you just want to sleep until 9am {is that too much to ask?!}.  And sometimes you want to have a conversation with an adult without having to stop every 3 minutes to say “Use your words”.  And sometimes you think if you have to say “We don’t put our hands in the toilet” one more time you’re going to lose your freakin mind.  And sometimes your older child is biting your younger child for walking too close to the blocks and you want to bite someone too, but instead you choose to teach them how to treat someone {and then you go in your room and throw a shoe}.  And sometimes you want to give up, because it’s too much and you don’t remember how you got here and why and you can’t see God’s hand in it anymore.  And a lot of people think it’s a waste of time or it’s too much of a sacrifice and you’d just be happier working as a teacher in a comfy classroom with other people’s children who go home at the end of the day.  

But mama, you know this is your calling. And this is who you are right now, in this moment and this is exactly who you are supposed to be. And even when it doesn’t feel like it, it is enough. 

We have some how stumbled across the notion that being a mom and a wife is not enough.  We’ve added the word “just” to mom.  As in, “I’m JUST a mom.”  

We throw around things like “I need to find myself” or “I don’t know who I am without my job”.  What I’m about to say may offend someone, but I’m not sorry.  Whatever job you have {have had, will have} will never leave a lasting impression like the one you will leave on your kids.  That includes that impression your marriage leaves.  I’m not saying all moms need to be stay at home moms… but your job should be secondary to who you are and what you do as a mom and a wife.  

If you don’t show up to work, they will replace you.  If you don’t show up to parent, there is no one who can replace you.  Be there.  Be a mom. Be a wife.  And be proud of it.   

Charlotte Claire… you are one! I can’t believe it.  It seems like it went so quickly.  When we found out you were on your way, we were surprised and elated! Your life came at a time when I needed some cheering up and it did the trick! 

Daddy and I picked out your name before we even had children, and as soon as we knew you were a girl, we knew we’d call you Charlotte.  Your big brother calls you CeCe (but it sounds like TeeTee) and Daddy and I like to call you Ceese.  Since you were born, I called you my Muffin, and I like to make silly nicknames to go with it like “CeCe Muffin” or “ScrudMuffin”.  We also jokingly like you Scrappy because you’re always finding food on the floor and eating it.  Daddy said “One thing is for sure with this girl, she will eat half of her meal in her chair and the other half on the floor!” 

When I was pregnant with you, you made it very clear to me you were different than your brother.  You waited until long after your guess date to make an appearance and the story of your birth was a whole different ball game! While your brother enjoys being the center of attention, you enjoy watching from the sidelines.  You are very observant and I think you’ll have a great sense of discernment.  You are very careful when it comes to trust, and you make people work hard for your affection.  That’s an admirable quality and I think it will serve you later in life.  

You’ve always had a sweet demeanor but you’ve also got a sassy side.  You know exactly what you want and you’re a bit fiesty.  I’m a little worried how that will play out when you’re two… or sixteen! 

There is something very special about your features – sometimes you look exactly like your daddy but sometimes you look just like me! I often see your brother’s expressions and I think you have your Auntie Tina’s nose.  You definitely have your Daddy’s white-blonde hair and you get your easily tanned skin from the Toral Cuban side.  I love to see the way God has combined two people in one sweet little life. 

You really love your brother! I know you two will be best friends.  You try your hardest to keep up with him and you are learning to fight back and defend yourself.  He is a crazy guy so I think you’re learning how to play hard.  He is always protecting you, feeding and making sure you have everything you need! He likes to tell mommy when you need something.  

I love having a daughter to dress up and sew for! I loved making your Disneyland outfits and headbands for every holiday! I hope that as you get bigger you will know that this is how I show you my love and that you will always ask me to make your costumes, dress-up clothes and maybe one day your prom dress! 

You love books and sometimes I catch you alone just reading.  You love to play cars and you really love hugging stuffed animals and baby dolls.  You love to play outside and love toys you can ride on!  You are starting to climb the play structures at the park! You took your first steps at 10 months and now you are walking like a pro.  You can say mama, dada, MattMatt, cracker, ball, book, banana, Nana, and you say “na” for hungry.  You know your signs for please, thank you, sorry, more and milk.  You nod your head yes (and it’s adorable) and shake your head no.  You love to swim and once you jumped in our kiddie pool fully clothed!  You’re a good eater and you will not hesitate to steal food.  You love fruit, especially strawberries and clementines.  

You love to nurse and that has been such a blessing to me.  It’s been hard sometimes because you always need your mommy, especially for sleeping, and sometimes I’ve felt that I’m doing you an injustice by not teaching you to be more self sufficent but I remember that you are still a baby.  There will come a day when you won’t need me anymore and I will look back on these days with longing.  I pray that when you’re a mommy, you will be grateful for the bond we have and be willing to do the same, with great joy, for your children.  

My sweet little Muffin, I cannot believe you’re one.  I love watching you grow.  You are a beautiful, smart and curious girl.  I look forward to seeing the woman you will become. 

Happy Birthday Charlotte Claire.  

Love, 
Mama 

Dear Mamas,  

I know you’re tired.  

I know it because you are saying it on Facebook.  You are saying it when I ask “How are you?” You are saying it in your forgetfulness and your lateness and the blank stare in your eyes.  You’re saying it at the grocery store when the guy says “paper or plastic” and you just say “Uhhhhh”.  But mostly, mama, I know you’re tired because I am too.   

When I had Matthew, I would secretly roll my eyes when other moms told me they were tired.  The kid slept like an angel.  I would put him in his bed at 7 pm, wide awake and he would sleep until 7am.  Naps were the same.  If he could have talked, I’m sure he would have said “Excuse me, Mother. It’s time for my afternoon nap.  Please bring me to my bassinet”.  (That has a British accent in case you didn’t infer that…) 

Then there was Charlotte.  Oh my sweet baby girl.  I cannot get this kid to sleep.  She needs to nurse all-the-freakin-time.  She needs to be rocked, shushed, sung to, cuddled and put down it the precise right cadence and pressure.  We spent the first 3 months with her in my bed all night (which is normal and I always say the first 3 months are just about getting used to each other).  But after that I tried moving her to her cradle from time to time and she always ended back with me.  She nursed all night.  She was up every 3 hours.  I hardly slept at all.  I wasn’t willing to “sleep train” and we didn’t start solids until 6 months (and that didn’t help).  I don’t use rice cereal, especially not in a bottle… but Charlotte has never had a bottle, so that wouldn’t have worked any way.  Charlotte has shown me what it means to be tired.  And then not only did I want to kick myself for rolling my eyes just a year earlier, but I also wanted to kick anyone without kids who said they were tired! (Or my husband who slept through every feeding and woke up like “Man, Charlotte slept good right? I’m so exhausted” Dude. Are you serious?) 

So mamas, I’m with you.  I’m tired too.  

Here are my suggestions for you:

- Don’t let tired get the best of you.  I wrote a blog a few months ago about my pouting during church.  Read it, laugh at me, but seriously, don’t be a two year old because you’re tired.  It’s not good for people who have to be around you, but it’s not good for you either.  If you need a time-out, and sometimes mommies do, just go to your room. No one wants to see your fit.  (Yes, that might be what I say to my two year old…)

- Don’t make any crucial decsions when you’re tired.  These may or may not be actual things that have crossed my mind while up rocking a screaming baby in the middle of the night.  ”That’s it, I’m just letting her cry. I don’t care.” “I should have given her a bottle, then Scott could do this” “I hate having kids, why did I become a mom, I’m just so freaking tired” “We’re giving her formula. Every night.”  ”Tylenol. Where’s the Tylenol.” “I’m never having more kids!” Of course I care, I would never just leave her to cry (but I do switch off when I’m feeling frustrated), I love my kids, I love being a mom, and I do want to have more kids.  Being tired can really make you crazy! 

- Laugh a little.  Because it’s kinda of funny.  Not the being tired, not the sleepless nights (those aren’t even a little funny) but read this blog about being a “Mombie” and have a little chuckle.  We laugh because it’s true. 

- Change your perspective.  I’m not saying it works 100% of the time, and I’m definitely not saying I have it all figured out.  But so far, in my short mothering career, I’m learning that the less I think of myself (and the less I care that I do) the better I feel.  Learning to die to myself, to kill my selfish needs, and to let my kids be #1 the easier my days are.  Yes, it’s nice to get in a shower.  And yes, it’s nice to do my hair and pick out something nice to wear.  But the world won’t end if I have yoga pants and ugly hair, and if I’m going to be bitter at my kids all day because I didn’t get those things, it’s really not worth it.  

- Be with people who understand.  If you’re hanging out with a bunch of single women who are tired because they stayed out having too many cosmos, you’re probably not going to very compassionate… nor or they.  They don’t get it, and it’s okay.  But try to mingle with other mamas who know what tired is.  You have to find a friend who will finish your sentence when you say “Did you ever get the…. {long pause} sorry, I’m so tired, I don’t know what I was talking about.”  Mom friends are awesome.  (If you don’t have a MOPS group, you should get one.  Because it literally has changed my life)

So hugs to you mama. I know you’re tired, because so am I.  And in all the internet solidarity we can get, let’s all toast with our {second, or third?} cup of coffee… and say “Cheers! Because motherhood is tough… but it is oh so sweet.” 

In memory of my Dad, who went to be with Jesus 2 years ago – April 16th 2011.  

My Dad and I on my wedding day – March 29, 2009

A lot of people ask why I’m a Yankee fan.  The short answer is:

I was born that way. 

Dad on his first birthday with his parents

My dad was born in Guantanamo, Cuba but his family left to find refuge in America in the early 60’s just after Castro came into power.  They made a home for themselves in New Jersey where my dad grew up going to mass, jumping fences and playing stick ball in the streets.  

Dad holding the bat

During baseball season, he and his father and brother would take the train to the Bronx to watch the Yankees play.  They would buy tickets for 50 cents and sit in the bleachers for the Saturday double headers.  My dad even recalled watching Mickey Mantle play. 

When Dad moved to California in the late seventies, he continued his loyalty to the Bronx Bombers and of course taught us everything he knew.  When he became involved in the local Little League, he somehow managed to change the League color from “Dodger” Blue to “Yankee” Blue. 

Dad coaching a Girl’s Softball All-Star Team

My dad used to joke that when he died he wanted to be buried under home plate of Yankee Stadium.  The plan was that I was going to marry Derek Jeter and that, of course, The Captain could arrange for that.  Since Derek and I didn’t work out, I knew I had to have a plan B.

Dad, Mom and myself watching the Opening Day game in Vegas

We decided to scatter his ashes in the House that Ruth Built. 

However, they tore down the original stadium and rebuilt a new one across the street.   I went online and booked tickets to the game right before his birthday.  I also scheduled a stadium tour.  I was great with the logistical plans, I just wasn’t sure how we were actually going to execute this. 

My sister, Tina, was in charge of the ashes.  We had to get a permit to travel with them, so she took care of that.  Ashes are very heavy! It was like carrying a rock.  She got the task honor of carrying them on the planes and through the airports.  After all, I was carrying a baby (that was my excuse). 

My husband (wearing Matthew), myself, my sister and brother in Central Park

We spent the first part of the week touring NYC.  We went to Central Park, Grand Central Station, had sushi, Ray’s Pizza, buying Yankee souvenirs (those are hard to come by in Cali!), Times Square, Statue of Liberty, Ground Zero, and even saw a Broadway Show.  Matthew was a dream baby the whole time.  

All the Yankee Stuff!!

Grand Central Station

Highline Park, Downtown

Ray’s Pizza – the best!

The day came for us to see the Yankee game.  We spent the day enjoying the bleacher seats and thinking about Dad.  We even got to see Mariano Rivera beat the all-time saves record.  It was a special day that we will never forget. 

In the Bleachers, where Dad used to sit 

Celebrating Mo’s Record

The next morning we had to get ready for the tour, but Scott and I wanted to sneak off in the morning to see the Statue of Liberty.

Visiting Lady Liberty

 I had agreed to carry Dad’s ashes in a formula canister because security is generally very lax about baby items.  We had failed to realize that the security to get on the island is just as tough as the airport security… which meant my backpack had to go through an x-ray machine, and I didn’t have the permit.  I didn’t even know if I could legally be carrying them. And I repeat, they were in a formula canister.  Can you look any sneakier?! As soon as I passed through the metal detectors my blood pressure shot up.  Listen to me when I say this – I am a terrible liar.  I don’t break rules.  I don’t sneak.  I don’t know how to BS my way out of anything.

THIS IS WHY TINA WAS IN CHARGE OF THE ASHES. 

People, can you imagine what happened to me when they said “What is in that container?”

Me: Uh, it’s sand. (Yes, that’s right, I said sand. Panicking. I was panicking!)

Security Agent: It’s sand?

Me: Um… well, it’s um…

Security Agent: Is this… human remains?

Me: Um, (picture me, bright red, in a line of hundreds of people, freaking the heck out, oh-my-gosh-going-to-prison-someone-is-going-to-take-my-baby) um…

Security Agent: I don’t care if it is, I just want to know before I stick my hand in it.

Me: Yes, it is.

Security Agent: You need to step over here please.

Me: (Oh great, now I’m going to prison for lying…)

I had to move over to the security station where they just asked me if was planning to spread them off the boat.  I said no, that I was taking them somewhere else but that we wanted to stop here first.  They were very understanding and said that as long as I wasn’t to let them go off the boat, it was fine.  Phew! But seriously, I almost died.

After that little incident, I was feeling a bit nervous about sneaking them into Yankee Stadium, let alone figuring out how we were going to spread them.  We took the 4 train up to the Bronx and met my sister and brother in the stadium.

Waiting for the Tour to begin

We quietly and reverently toured the museum and all the indoor areas.  We enjoyed looking for the championship rings and events from Dad’s birth years.  After we toured the inside areas, we went into Monument Park.  Monument Park is all dedicated to the Yankee greats and we thought Dad would like to be there too.  First, Tina and Joseph took turns taking a scoop of ashes out and placing it in the bushes.

Getting ready to spread the ashes

I wanted to put Dad’s ashes by Mickey Mantle’s plaque, but I was so nervous! Scott and I pretended to take a photo while we “secretly” took a scoop of ashes out of the box.  I am sure I looked like a darn fool to everyone watching.  You guys, I wish we had this on video.  I’m sure we would be peeing our pants laughing from how ridiculous we looked. 

Trying not to look guilty

Dad’s ashes in the corner

After we finished in Monument Park, we got to walk down the stairs and into the dugout.  When I had toured the original Yankee Stadium years ago, they let us walk into the bullpen and through the outfield.  I had imagined that this would be our best bet.  However, they didn’t do that this time.  We got to walk on just a tiny area of foul line brick dust and were quickly escorted right into the dugout.  I had imagined putting Dad’s ashes on the dirt in the dugout, along with all the sunflower seed shells and he’d be carried out, rounding first, fielding grounders and jumping over the outfield fence on the bottom of the player’s cleats.  Oddly enough, the Yankee dugout isn’t dirt and there are no sunflower seed shells laying around. 

In the Dugout

So, Joseph went first.  He dumped a heaping scoop into the bat rack.  The bat racks are deep, square compartments.  We imagined puffs of ash flying off as A-Rod hit a grandslam.  This way he’d be there, in the game, every bit of it.  His wisdom, his hitting advice (elbow up, bat back, throw your hands, squish the bug), his base coaching, all of it.  You may have heard that the Angels have some in the outfield but the Yankees… they have an angel in the dugout. 

After the tour was over, we still had plenty of ashes left.  We knew we couldn’t take them back to California and we didn’t know what else to do.  So I walked up to our tour guide.  He was a sweet, older man and had lots of Yankee passion.

Me:  Has anyone ever asked to spread ashes here before?

Tour Guide: Asked? No. But they’ve done it!

Me: What do you mean?

Tour Guide: Well, once I had an old lady run from my tour and empty a bag of ashes on the pitcher’s mound. 

Me: What did you do?!

Tour Guide: Nothing! What could I do? I just asked her to come back in.

Me: So, what would you say if someone wanted to do that.

Tour Guide: Get on my tour.

Me: What if said person was about 20 minutes too late for that?

Tour Guide: What? You have them now?

Me: Yes.

Tour Guide: Well, I can’t let you back down.  There’s security and they are setting up for the game.  I’d get in big trouble.  Whose ashes are they?

Me: My Dad’s.

Tour Guide: If it were me, and I’m guessing your dad was about my age, I would want to be at the old stadium.  Just go across the street.

*Awesome idea, my friend, awesome idea*

Across the street we go….

The new recreational fields and the new stadium in the back ground

The stadium was turned into three recreational fields.  That was perfect for Dad.  He was passionate about Little League, he used coaching as his ministry, to impart wisdom, love and success into children – especially children that came from broken families.  The Bronx is right where Dad fit in. 

When we got to the new fields, they were still under construction and there was a locked fence all the way around.  We asked the construction workers if we could get in.  They said no. 

I saw an NYPD car parked nearby. Again, my blood pressure shot up and I felt so guilty.  Then I decided that the last time I felt this way was for no reason, so best I could do was ask.  I went to the NYPD car.

Me, talking to the NYPD officers

Me: Hi. I was wondering if spreading ashes is illegal.

NYPD: No, I don’t think so.

Me: Oh ok, good. Because we’re here from California and we really want to spread our dad’s ashes around the old Yankee stadium.  He was a huge Yankee fan.

NYPD: I wish I could let you in, but it’s not our jurisdiction.  But we won’t stop you.

Alright so now we had “permission” to do it.  The construction crew had left and locked up.  And there was only one security guard.  We considered waiting until he was on the other side and just sneaking in.  But Tina had a better idea.

She got out her pouty lip and flirty eyes and went up to the security guard.  After a few minutes of pleading, she had permission to run inside the gate and dump the ashes at a light pole that was right where the original home plate was.

Tina dumping the ashes

There was still a bit of ashes left in a bag that didn’t fit in the formula container, so I took those ashes up with us to the 4 train.  I dumped them in the subway track (even though it was pretty disgusting in there) but I thought it was a good tribute to the train rides Dad took as a kid to go watch his favorite players. 

The last of the ashes in the 4 Train

It was a beautiful adventure.  It was laughter and mourning and closure all in the same little package.  It was the trip of a lifetime, sharing something beautiful with my siblings and my husband.  But mostly, it was Dad. 

We felt him there, shaking his head at our shenanigans.  His quiet, “I suppose” when we wanted more Yankee souvenirs.  His cocky “I called that one” when Mo saved the game.  His pat on the leg, his flick on the noggin, the way he said “Right, Jen?” 

I know he would have thought this trip was over the top.  He would have said it was too expensive.  He would have said it was not that big of a deal.  He would have said to just leave him in the free container he came back to us in.  But there is nothing in this world my dad wouldn’t have done for me, and if this is one small portion of that love being returned then it was a necessary event.

I am a Daddy’s girl and there will always be a gap that, even as a grown woman, will be left open in my heart.  But my Dad will live on, and I pray that his passion for baseball will continue to root itself in all of the kids he’s coached over the years, that they will always think to themselves “Joe Toral taught me that” as they go about their lives.

Dad, you’re forever in our hearts and, of course, the Yankee dugout.  

*If you’re reading this, and you knew my Dad… would you do our family the great favor of commenting here with your favorite memory or something my Dad taught you.  It would bring me so much joy to share those stories with my kids who didn’t get to know thier Papa.  Feel free to pass this on and share with any one who knew him. 

Matthew William, my gift from God…. my 40 hour labor… my reminder of hope in darkness… my challenge…my blessing.  

My sweet son, you made me a mommy and now you are turning 2! I just can’t believe it happened so fast! 

The day you were born I’d never known such sweet reward.  They don’t call it labor for nothing!  And what a gift you are.  Your dad and I were over joyed at the precious little bundle we had been given.  

Now you are two.  

You such an active little guy.  You love to climb, run and play.  You love sports.  You love to sing “Take Me Out To the Ball Game” and I’ve already trained you to yell “Yankees” when we say “Root, root, root…”  That would make your Papa smile.   You are obsessed with bikes and you will be thrilled tomorrow morning when you open the gift we got you! You are never scared to climb new things at the park, and you rarely fall.  I hardly worry about you when you run off to play.  

You take after your mommy in your sweet tooth – you love cookies and candy so much.  But you’re also a healthy eater and love to have bananas and eggs every morning.  You love fruit and yogurt. You love peanut butter sandwiches and especially making them on your own. You love to help mommy in the kitchen, and always ask to help me bake or make dinner. 

You love to play choo choos and you love to watch Go Diego Go.  I love to watch you follow along on the TV and do the silly animal noises or movements.  You are very smart and always answer the questions correctly.  You love books and your favorite is Go Dog Go.  I think both of those titles reflect your love of going! You are an adventurer.  

You take after your daddy with your sense of humor and loving attention.  You love to dance at church during worship.  You love to say hi to strangers in the grocery store and you have wonderful manners.  

You love having your picture taken, and if you find a camera or cell phone, you bring it to us and say “cheese!”  

You have lots of toys that you love, but when it comes to bed time you must have “The Trio”.  You have a snuggle pillow and a robot blankey that I made for you, and a sweet teddy you got as a gift.  You call him “Burr”.  We make sure you have those three items when you go to bed or when you aren’t feeling well.  We always bring them with us when we travel so you can have a bit of home with you.  

You are a GREAT big brother.  You are great at sharing and you always make sure Charlotte has enough to eat.  You love to tickle her and you love for her to ride in the wagon with you.  You call her “TeeTee” and we think it’s adorable.  

You sleep in your big kid bed now and enjoy waking us up bright and early every morning by announcing that you like juice.  You also love to get mommy her coffee and help daddy get breakfast ready.  You love to count, sing, read and I’m always impressed with how much you are learning.  We think you’re the smartest boy ever.  You love playing with your friends Ellie, Lucas and Addy.  You give great hugs!  You love bubbles and swimming.  You love painting and if I am making a list, you usually like to sit with me and “draw” too.  

Daddy and I like to call you Roo, or sometimes Rooster.  You call Daddy “Ga Ga”.  When Daddy comes home from work, you run to him and he rough houses with you.  You love when he throws you up high in the air.  You love to go on a walk with Daddy after work and bring home the mail to me.  You two boys are so helpful to mommy.  

Happy Birthday my sweet boy.  You will never know how much I love you, how much I waited for the day I was called “Mama” and how much sweeter it really is.  You truly are a gift.  I love you son.  

Love, 
Mama 

I’ll be honest with you. I usually avoid hot topic blogs like this.  Because honestly, I’m too tired for a debate.  But friend, if this is debatable to you, I suggest you stop reading my blog.  

I’m not going to be vague. I’m pro-life.  And I think many people in my circle are.  We spout out all these facts about babies being people right from conception.  And about abortion being murder.  We post photos of 12 week old babies.  We talk about how they already have a heart beat.  We scoff at the idea of it being illegal to ruin a bald eagle egg but killing a human is ok.  We vote when we can.  But what does that really do? 

According to studies, more than 70% of women who have an abortion do so because of some sort of inconvience to their life.  They can’t afford it.  They want to finish school.  They weren’t ready for a child (or another child).  Having a baby would dramatically change their life… for the worse.  

Mommies… does this break your heart?  It breaks mine!  

I have 2 kids.  They are 15 months apart.  I cannot count the amount of times I’ve heard “you have your hands full” or “is it hard?”.  Yes! I do have my hands full. Yes! It is hard.  

The hard makes it great.  The hard makes it worthwhile. The hard makes it beautiful.  

Marriage, family and kids are often the butt of jokes in TV, movies and social media.  Just the other day, my husband and I were watching a TV show where the men were talking about how horrible it was to watch your wife in childbirth and how she’d never be sexual to them ever again if they saw it.  I asked my husband what he thought about that.  He said it was hogwash.  But we allow these subtle media influences to affect how we feel about kids and families.  We are being penetrated with messages telling us that having a family will ruin all of our fun! No wonder these women are scared to have their babies! 

So here’s my question to you, mommies and daddies.  Are you spreading a message of distress or a message of joy? 

When your single or kid-less friends look at your family, do they see your kids are a major inconvenience that they would never want to burden their lives with?  Do they hope and pray it’d never happen to them? Are you encouraging the image that kids are going to change their life dramatically, in the worst way? 

Here’s my suggestion to you, Pro-Life families.  Choose your words carefully.  Are you complaining constantly?  Choose your actions carefully.  Are you always yelling at your kids?  Choose your Facebook statuses, Instagram photos and quippy remarks carefully.  

Not only will this be a favor to your own kids, but you just might save another kid’s life.