Tag Archives: children

How did you do it?

Over the last few years, many who have lost their children have reached out wanting to know how “I did it.” Although I’m not quite sure what “it” was that I did …  I would suppose they are referring to getting up each morning and most of the time showering, how I continued to love my other children in the midst of my own unbearable pain, how I spoke of God’s love continuously even when I had countless moments of doubt I was too afraid to speak, or how I have continued on with life for four years.

Many have commented on how hopeful my posts were or how much strength I showed. I call this out because it is the absolute opposite of what I felt during those days after Owen’s death. I felt anything but strong, positive or hopeful. My life was upside down and I had no energy or idea on how to put it back together again. But I suppose that’s just where we all need to be in order to give up. That’s right, I threw my hands up and said, “I GIVE UP! I don’t know where to go from here so the rest of you just need to tell me.” And that somebody included God.

I completely surrendered myself to the care and love of my family and friends and most importantly my Creator. When friends called and asked if they could bring meals, I said sure. When church called to see if there was anything my family needed, I said, “well we are running low on diapers and that would save us a trip to the store.” A childhood friend wanted to give me a blanket she had made for Owen, I said thank you! and slept with it every night. My sister’s friend offered to just move in while Owen was in the hospital and take care of my kids and the house – I said thank you. I called uncle and gave up my control. The world had been trying to push me down my whole life, and it finally won.

It’s in that surrender that I found strength. Crazy and kind of poetic, right?  I found a path or a cue to what my next step should be. This strength did not come from my own will or decisions. It came from complete hopelessness, fatigue and grief. It came from the the conversation I had with God that went something like this:

God – what the heck? Are you kidding me? I have loved you. I went to bible study this week. When I was so mad at you after my car accident I continued to work on it with YOU! I could have ran, but I didn’t. Don’t get me wrong I’m glad I did – but wasn’t that enough? Didn’t I prove to you that I love you then? Why are you testing me again? This isn’t fair. My marriage is already falling apart, I have no idea how to mother these children and now this? Are you taking Owen away because I didn’t love my kids enough? I swear I’ll turn the tv off and just play puzzles on the floor with my kids like the commercials if you just make this all go away.


FINE. I give up. You let this happen – you figure it out. I’d like to see how you’re going to make anything good come of this.

I think God was waiting and hoping I’d say that. Because then, and only then, did he have a complete empty canvas – clean from any of my scribbly attempts of fixing things. He had all the paintbrushes in His hand so he could create a masterpiece I could never have imagined. He delights in those moments when His children give him total control. Not because He is this sadistic puppeteer but because He knows He can create something far more beautiful for us when we just let Him do His job – love us. He is our protector and our creator. He knows us far better than we know ourselves – which is hard to believe after how many hours of therapy I’ve been through trying to understand why I do the things that I do.

To my dear grieving parent friends, let go. Let it all go – drop it on the floor and rest at Jesus’ feet. Do not try to make sense of what has happened, but rather let those around you take care of you. Rest. Focus on your own feelings, allow yourself to feel the pain. Even if it’s for only a second today, try for two seconds tomorrow. Thru that pain you will pick up all of these treasures.

Love, Mel


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Filed under Grief, Owen's Gone

To each and everyone one of you (yes, I’m talking to YOU!) …

Four years ago – I wrote this blog: https://bissingfamily.com/2011/05/26/nothing/

Today, there is so much more. There is Josie who takes good care of Owen’s heart. There is an unnamed girl in IL who was given more time with Owen’s liver. There are family and friends whom I met in the midst of my grief and now I have NO CLUE how I could ever live without! I bubble over with care and love from the angels God has sent my way.

To each and everyone one of you (yes, I’m talking to YOU!), thanks for loving me and my children. Thank you for walking this path with me … I didn’t have a choice but you did. You chose to weep and cry with me 4 years ago and you continue to walk with me today. I am totally convinced that life is about who is on the journey with you, rather than any destination. It’s about the love we share, the support we offer and the truth we speak. I know with God all things are possible and I believe that he makes it just a little bit easier by giving us each other.

My gratitude for for family, friends and internet besties is endless. If there is ever a time when you need a sister to walk with you, I’m here. I’d be honored to pray for you or to be a listening ear. It’s the least I could do after all the healing you have offered me. Ya’ll are like my life band-aids 🙂

God is good all the time. All the time God is good.

Love, Mel


Filed under Grief, Owen's Gone

Getting Ready for Saturday

Things are getting exciting here. A buzz of owenge energy. My amazing Little Warrior angels have been busy helping … tracing, cutting, organizing, counting little beads. All of this in preparation for Saturday – the 3rd annual Little Warrior Christmas Ornament Drive!




These early Saturday mornings are magical. The children are excited, the room is booming with sound, the glue is flowing and the sequins are everywhere. Absolute magic! Little hands leave covered in magic marker and love in their hearts. I love the smile on all the kid’s faces … even the tears of the little one who realize they aren’t taking their project home with them. It’s all about the learning. About giving love to others. The kids take such pride in their work – carefully writing their name and age on the back of each ornament. They run from table to table, seeing how many stars they can earn. They are proud as their number of completed ornaments gets higher and higher.

Volunteers give an entire morning teaching little ones. Coaching the children on not only to how to make the ornaments but also the importance of what they are doing. Parents spend time with their children on their laps, helping them trace their hands … all to make a stranger’s Christmas a little brighter.

I’m getting excited about Saturday. I hope you’ll bring your little ones by! Bring your grandkids, nieces/nephews, godchild or any special little one! Come see what it’s all about. Come any time between 9am – noon. Come when you can and leave when you must. There is no time limit or requirement. Make 1 ornament or make them all 6 times 🙂

For all the details and to register visit: www.owenslittlewarriors.com or email we.care.warriors@gmail.com with any questions! See you soon!

Love, Mel

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Filed under Little Warriors, Posted by Melissa

Happy Mother’s Day!

Happy Mother’s Day to all my mama readers! Moms – Grandmas – Step Moms – Birth Moms – Godmothers – the list goes on forever …. And a special mother’s day to all those mom’s of angels.  Some years it hits us harder than others.

For me, it was a good year – of course I missed Owen – but the celebration of the day out weighed the sadness this time.  I recognize that it might not be true every year – or true for all the upcoming anniversaries and holidays that remind me so much of when I had three babies on earth.  The spring reminds me of the HUGE triplet stroller that I used to load up and take all the kids on a walk around the block just to get out of the four walls of my house.  The open sidewalk was the only place I didn’t feel totally over sized.  The spring reminds me of meeting a friend at the park with her two adorable boys – we lost touch until a year after Owen’s death and are now great friends.  It reminds me of when my street was under construction and I used to rotate the triplets in the bumbo in front of the front door to the bay window to the coffee table – they would sit and watch the trucks for hours!

When I think of Mother’s Day I always think of this picture:


and this one ….



It’s the only photo(s) I have with all four of my children.

I go back and forth between feeling a huge whole in the middle of our family and not being able to imagine how I would keep up with a third one. Please don’t ever take what I just said as though I wouldn’t want a third one or that I would be able to handle it.  I just can’t mentally picture what it would be like to have another two-year old into the mix of our daily lives.  Weston and Logan keep me on my toes!!

This year, the boys and I went to church in the morning and then to my mom’s for the afternoon.  We walked to the park and played for a while. Then three little girls came to play too …. triplet girls.  What are the odds?  A message or a sign from God?  A coincidence?  I’m not sure what the message was or if it was meant for me – but it did catch my breath to watch Logan and Weston play along side the three girls.  It was pain strikingly clear that one of my children was missing at the park.  There should have been three girls and four boys (including Jaden).

I got my annual picture with the boys again this year.  The boys were already in their pj’s for the car ride home.  What little monkeys!  But they are, after all, the very reason why I’m a mom today.  I told Jaden this morning that I had him to thank for being a mom – he was the one that gave me my supermom powers!



Happy Mother’s Day to everyone!!

Love, Mel


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Filed under Mommyhood Meditations

ANNOUNCING – the Next Little Warrior Event!

I’m excited to announce the next Little Warrior event – the 2nd annual Christmas ornament drive benefiting the Interfaith Organization of Waukesha.  I have such wonderful memories of last year’s event, I just can’t wait to see the turn out this year!  It’s going to be bigger & better!!  So please, please, please register your kids, your friend’s kids, grand-kids, nieces, nephews, girl/boy scout troops, godchildren – all are welcome!

We will have 4-5 different ornament stations that you and your child(ren) can visit.  Pick one that you love or make one of each!  The projects are designed so that ALL ages can participate.  Last time we had 2 year olds all the way up to teenagers participate. It truly is fun for the whole family.

I personally invite each of you to join me (and all the Little Warrior volunteers) on November 17th (10am-12pm) at Ascension Lutheran Church – 1415 Dopp Street, Waukesha.  Please don’t feel that you have to be a believer to participate – this project isn’t a “christian thing” – it’s a “human thing”.  You just need to have a desire to help people – and the want to teach kids the importance of service to one another.

*Registration is appreciated – but not required

For complete details on the project visit:  www.owenslittlewarriors.com

DOWNLOAD A FLYER HERE – Print one for your fridge 🙂  Could you also help spread the word about Owen’s service project?  Post a flyer at the library, at your work, or your church, etc.

If you’re still not convinced, here is some food for thought on why joining us could be life changing — All of us at one point or another will need someone to help us.  By involving children in volunteerism at a young age, you are helping to create their perception of the world.  Plant the seed in them that they can make a difference.  Teach them to be Little Warriors who fight for the good in this world.

Let me know if you have any questions or comments – I love to hear from you all!

Love, Mel

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Filed under Little Warriors, Posted by Melissa

Owen’s Medal of Honor

When we pulled up to the Governor’s mansion my mom instinct to get all the kids out and across the street kicked in.  I found myself dazed on the driveway – putting on my name badge, posing for a group photo in front of a beautiful fountain.  Then I knew I needed to find a restroom before the ceremony started – the Diet Mountain Dew I had on the car ride was kicking in.  The line was so long that by the time it was my turn it was time to find our seats.  I grabbed a cookie on my way to the back of the tent, where my family was already seated and waiting for me.

It wasn’t until the ceremony started that they announced that Gov. Walker wouldn’t be attending.  I’m not going to lie, I was peeved.  Our time to honor Owen had already been postponed a year and now we weren’t even going to have the medal presented by who was promised?  I’m not sure if those of you who do not live in WI have heard on the news, but there was a mass shooting in a Sikh temple in a Milwaukee suburb (Oak Creek).  We were told that Gov. Walker was “spending time with the families effected by the shooting.”  Now, I’m just going to be brutally honest – I was hurt by that.  The shooting was DEVASTATING, HORRIFIC and TERRIBLE … but the Donor Network ceremony was honoring 209 families who have lost their loved ones.  There were 6 deaths in the Sikh temple shooting.  Didn’t really seem like he chose how he could reach the most people – he rather went to where the news cameras would be.  The terrible and bitter thought of  “just because my son’s death didn’t make national news, means that he’s not worth Gov Walker’s time.”  It was a horrible thought and it felt even more horrible.  I was a little ticked that he was not going to be there.  Let me also end by saying, I am actually a Scott Walker fan and am not looking to start any kind of political debate.  I simply felt like it was just a political move … and I can’t stand politics.

That being said – the ceremony was really something special.  The instrumental music that played while each loved one’s name was announced was perfect.  The weather was beautiful and the view of the water was calming.

We were third in line to receive Owen’s medal.  I carried Weston, Doug had Logan and Jaden walked proudly between us.

As we paused to wait for our time to walk, I looked up and felt the wind get knocked out of my chest.  I flashed back to the funeral – where the musical was playing, and I was standing at the back of the church looking at a sea people.  I looked down the aisle and just focused on Rebecca Kleefisch (Lt Governor of WI) just as I had focused on the large picture of Owen at the altar.  The only thing I could do was breath and put one foot in front of the other.


(love this picture because it shows the craziness of what our family is really like)


We received Owen’s medal with honor.  We received a heart felt thanks for Owen’s gift.  Logan and Weston were especially loved.  Then we made our way back to our seats.  I realized just how my grief had been replaced with joy in so many ways.  I had not felt the heart stabbing pain in so long.  Perhaps it’s because I turned it all over to the Lord from the very beginning.  Perhaps it’s because I have two boys who have replaced my pain with smiles.  I am so busy loving Logan, Weston and Jaden.  It does NOT mean that I don’t love Owen.  It just means that I gave myself permission to be happy.  I have allowed myself to love what I still have.

As Logan and Weston grow, I have come to know each of them individually.  They have started to show their personalities and preferences.  This is a part of Owen I never knew – he was too young.  I know he was much calmer than his brothers, but even that is different between Logan and Weston now.  I remember the nights that Logan just WOULD NOT SHUT UP!  And now he is the calmest and cuddliest of the two.  Who knows what Owen would have been like.  I can spend hours hypothesizing and guessing how he would have played into the mix.  But it would have been just that – a guess.  I feel like I’m grieving someone I hardly knew.  A personality I never met or saw.  It’s hard to imagine what my life would be like if he were still here.  There really isn’t a huge gaping hole anymore.  The boys have outgrown all of the clothes I had in sets of three – their drawers are filled with blue and green.

The pain and awkwardness is still there every time I call them triplets to a stranger and they look at me puzzled and ask where the third one is.  Then I think “crap, I’ve got to go there again.”  But the thing is they ARE TRIPLETS!  I don’t know that I’d ever be able to call them anything else.  I just hate having to explain my story over and over when it’s become an intrinsic part of me.  I just want to be able to introduce my children without a sad story that goes along with it.

As I sat in my chair, I noticed the photos some families were carrying up with them.  A few rows up a father carried a photo of (who I assume to be) his daughter – maybe 9 or 10 with beautiful long red hair.  It felt like she was looking right at me.  I could imagine what a joy she must have been to have around.  Her family must still feel her loss in the family.  Her smile and personality had already made an impression on me, surely in ten years she was a huge part of her own family.  I found myself wondering how she died.  Was it illness? Or a sudden accident?  It felt rude to walk up to these strangers and ask them such personal questions.  So instead I said a prayer for her family.  I prayed that they would feel the comfort of my thoughts.  I prayed for their beautiful daughter who was the hero to someone else.  I confessed that I was thankful my child was taken from me so early – only having 6 months to grieve seemed like the long stick when compared to ten years.  I know it’s like comparing apples to oranges, but I find myself thinking this more and more.  I thanked the Lord for giving me Weston and Logan – so that I had something to love in his place.  When I miss Owen, I hug one of the other triplets a little tighter.  I sing Owen’s bed time lullaby to the other boys.  Perhaps that’s why the hole doesn’t seem so empty.  Maybe I just filled it with loving the other boys more – simply because they are here with me.  Not because I love Owen any less.  I think it feels like I don’t miss Owen as much because it’s become natural to use my love for Owen on the other boys.

When we get home from vacation, I’ll find the perfect place to display Owen’s medal.  It was a beautiful ceremony and will be remembered always by myself and my family.

Love, Mel


Filed under Grief, Organ Donation

Private Practice

Someone should have warned me about the Private Practice episode this week … whoa.  If you aren’t a Private Practice watcher … one of the characters, Amelia, is pregnant with her deceased boyfriend’s baby.  She finds out that her son doesn’t have a brain.  He won’t live much more than a few hours after birth.  So she decides that she’s going to carry the baby to full term with the plan of donating her baby’s organs.  What you don’t find out until this episode is that she can’t technically donate them because she son will never be able to be declared brain-dead – he still has brain stem activity.  So she has to convince her doctor friends to harvest the organs.

Took me back to 355 days ago … when Doug and I were fighting so hard for Owen to donate his organs.  It was the only good thing that could come out of something so ugly.

Amelia said that she didn’t want to see or hear her baby – just take him away.  I remember my feelings as the time came closer and closer to Owen having the surgery, I wasn’t sure I wanted to hold my dead baby.  I didn’t it to erase all the memories I had of holding him alive.  As a true mother, she changed her mind in the last minute.  She looked at her baby, with no brain, and cried at how beautiful he was.  I still think that Owen was the most beautiful baby even when he was hooked up to all the machines, tubes all over the place.  He was still beautiful with his skin pale and cold.  There came a crucial moment when Amelia needed to decide if she was going to hold him until his last breath or if she would hand him over in hopes that he could still donate his organs.

I remember the entire walk down to the operating room.  I remember the elevator ride.  The way the temperature of the hallways were so much cooler when we got to the operating floor.  I remembering having to force myself to let go – to be ok.  It was now or never.  There was no turning back now.  I remember Doug’s eyes as he reassured me that it would be ok.  It was time.  I can still picture the swinging doors closing as they took Owen to his final place.  We stood with our pastor and watched as he was wheeled down the long hallway into the O.R. at the end of the hall.  I stood there for a long while – unable to move.  Un-wanting to move.  I wasn’t ready to leave his side yet.  But I had to be ok – I had to let go at that very moment.  There was no turning back.  I knew it was what I had to do – but I had all those feelings of not wanting to. Amelia’s moment of truth in this episode – man, I could relate.

It was choosing to let go because the good out weighed the bad.  Saving two lives was far more valuable than holding Owen until his body failed him.  What would have come of his death?  A good blog to read?  It had to be more.

What made me totally lose it was when they showed the organ harvesting.  Of course I know it’s Hollywood surgery but ti’s something that I’ve never pictured before.  The silver bowls and ice that they placed each tiny organ on.  How small each organ really was.  The child’s face on the body cut open.  Innocence being cut wide open.  I focused on the breathing tube.  The one tube that wasn’t able to be removed when I held Owen.  I received texts from our organ transplant coordinator as they harvested each organ.  But I could never really visualize it.  I had a storybook image – but nothing as real as this was.

I wouldn’t say what I was feeling was horrible … it wasn’t good either.  It was just a lot of emotion.  All at once.  Yes I cried – wailed even at some points.  I couldn’t breathe because my chest felt so tight.  But still I wouldn’t say it was horrible.  It was just a lot.  I welcome the pain.  I welcome the emotions.  I know I need to feel them to continue to heal.

I just wasn’t expecting to get all that out of a weeknight sitcom.  How many other donor mom’s out there were watching?  I hope it helped you to feel what you needed to feel.  I’m sorry it’s got to hurt so bad.  It sucks.  It really sucks.  But welcome the pain – embrace it.  It only hurts bad for the first little bit — then it turns into a reminder that you are real.  You are a mom.  You are an organ donor mom.

I just wish someone had told me before I watched it!  It caught me so off guard.  I would have had the tissues a little closer too …

Love, Mel


Filed under Grief, Organ Donation, Owen's Gone

Owen’s Face

I lay in bed … Listening to the thunder. I smile as I think of what the Schaefer kids would tell me … It’s the angels laughing.

I can’t picture what his face looks like. I close my eyes and I only see a blank face. A face without eyes, nose or a mouth. I don’t look at pictures of him. Although I think of him every other minute. Seeing his picture reminds me of how really gone he is. If I keep him in my heart, then in some ways he feels as though he is still alive. That part of my son isn’t gone … The part that I carry with me. It’s the same part that had me worried when I didn’t know exactly where his ashes were or the part of me that found comfort when the officials would update me as to where his body was and where it would go next. It’s the part of a mother that never stops worrying.

I carry each of my kids in my heart. I pray for each of them. I meditate on their names. I hold them up. I cherish their little souls and I ask for the strength and wisdom to be the Lord’s arms in hugging them. I do this for all four of my boys.

When I look at his picture … His face is forever frozen in time. Forever having a gummy smile. His baby face. Those large, round, dark eyes. I want to see his face. I want to look at him all the time. But it’s just more proof of the loss … A different kind of pain than just remembering he died.

It’s looking at a face that has life and then remembering his lifeless eyes while doing CPR. It’s seeing him giggle and coo in home videos and then remembering his doll like stillness at his funeral. It’s disgusting knowing that life once filled those eyes. Knowing that looking at a picture of my own flesh and blood can hurt so badly.

I welcome the pain as much as I fear it. The more I welcome it the quicker I will become accustomed to it. The less interrupting the pain will be. If I open myself to it … The pain will be absorbed and become part of my flesh. A pain that will make me stronger. A pain that will eventually hold me together. It becomes the bricks in my foundation. Apart of the path that is life.

So tomorrow I’m going to look at his picture. Stare at his face until the pain is numb. Then I’ll do it all over again. Convince myself that I will see his face again some day … Remind myself that he is still with me … And forgive myself for not remembering what he looks like some days.

Love, Mel


Filed under Grief, Owen's Gone, Posted by Melissa

Another family like us

I just got done reading a blog about a family who lost their four year old son about eleven months ago and just lost their two year old daughter a few days ago. Both of their children in the same year. What kind of world is this that we live in?

The mom posted many pictures of their daughter in the hospital and after her surgeries. It reminded me of so many memories of Owen. How he laid there with his legs apart and his diaper. The tubes and tape on his face. The limpness of his body. His closed eyes. The sounds of the machines. Remembering hurts yet i welcome the pain and vivid images. They are the last memories that I have. The last touches. The last kisses.

Their daughter was on the transplant list after they discovered she had a deadly heart condition … The same one that killed her brother without warning. Want to know what I kept thinking as I read? I wish I had another heart I could give her. If only Owen still had more hearts to give out. If I had one I would have given it to this little girl.

Her visitation was today. Palm Sunday. I have no idea what her parents must be feeling or thinking. One blog entry showed her taking a few steps … Her mom reported that she was doing so much better. Then the next only two days later told that she had gone to be with her big brother in heaven. So many unanswered questions. Did the doctors miss something? Was she sleeping when her heart stopped? Were her parents with her? Why her? Why couldn’t she have been one of the miracle stories?

Funny and odd how I don’t ask those questions about Owen. I find myself feeling proud and strong in my son’s story. Perhaps it’s because I know I’m strong enough to take it. I don’t wish the same on anyone else. Perhaps it’s that I know with confidence that nothing would have saved him. There isn’t anything that I or anyone else could have done that would have given a different outcome. I didn’t miss any signs … There weren’t any to miss. I gave CPR … The doctors did everything. There aren’t what ifs in Owen’s story. Yet this blog is filled with them.

I pray for this family tonight and in the hours, days and years to come. May God give them the strength and hope in a better tomorrow.

Love, Mel

Here is the link to the family’s blog: http://dscarpenter.blogspot.com/

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Filed under Grief, Organ Donation, Owen's Gone, Posted by Melissa

I’m the Queen of Yes

I hate the word ‘No.”  I like to say “yes.”  I am the Queen of Yes and Doug is the King of No.  Jaden asks for tape for an art project he wants to work on … before he can finish his question, Doug is already saying no.  I, on the hand, am excited that he is working on an art project rather than watching Sponge Bob and get him his very own roll of tape.  Or, when Jaden has finished his dinner and asks for hash browns (the kid is addicted to hash browns! they can be a pain the butt to make.  Not really, but these days anything that isn’t heated up in the microwave is a pain to cook haha)  Doug says “no, you’ve had enough to eat.”  I say “sure, give me a few minutes.”

But do I say yes too often?  Is there such a thing?  Do I say yes so much that I’m raising a spoiled brat because I don’t say “no” enough?  To be a good parent do I need to say no so he learns not to be greedy?  That he doesn’t need “things” to be happy?  So he learns that people can tell you no and the world doesn’t end?  He doesn’t need to get his way all of the time?

I know discipline is not my strength as a mom.  I don’t like to “boss” others around … I know it sounds silly … they are children – they need to be taught what to do.  But I like to let Jaden make his own choices.  I like to see him work out his problems on his own – figure things out his own way.  I learn from him by doing this too.  There is a delicate balance of letting him make his own choices and just saying yes to everything.

I’m a big fan of Love and Logic.  The key for me is that you set parameters that work for your family.  Some of the examples I find to be extreme for the Bissing residence.  For example, they suggest bedroom time rather than bed time.  The rule is that they need to stay in their rooms – they can go to sleep when they want.  Lights on, music playing, reading books.  They will learn from their own choices the importance of going to bed at a reasonable hour.  Doesn’t really work for us.  So we toned this example down by saying he can look at a book with a flashlight and listen to the radio, but the lights are off and it’s quiet.

Just as much as I don’t like to say ‘no,’ I don’t like to hear someone else tell me “no” either.  If I ask Doug to help me with something – I expect him to say yes.  He is my husband and he is supposed to want to help me.  It doesn’t always work like that though.  He is his own individual and if he doesn’t agree with what I’m trying to accomplish.  He has the freedom to say no.  When I ask my sister if I can barrow something of hers, I expect that she’ll say yes.  Most of the time she says yes…well I actually can’t remember the last time she told me no … ok that was a bad example 🙂

I take it personally when someone says no.  I sometimes feel like that 13-year-old girl, with raging hormones when Doug tells me no.  For example, I really want an iPhone.  Doug says no.  My reaction?  I want to kick and scream and tell him he can’t control me.  Gosh it sounds so immature, but it’s true.  I hate to hear someone tell me no.  Maturity, for me, comes from not changing the way I feel, but what I do with those feelings.  Do I yell “I hate you!  You are ruining my life!” as I storm down the hallway and slam the bedroom door shut?  I can’t say that I’ve never done that in our marriage but for blogging purposes, no I don’t respond this way.  Instead, I try to figure out why he is saying no.  Is it financial, can we really not afford it?  Is it a power play?  Does he want something in return?  Then I use it to my advantage.  I start making deals.  Sometimes it works, other times it doesn’t.

I guess what I am discovering about myself is that because I like to say yes, I expect others to say yes too.  Kind of a selfish view-point on the world.  I do it this way so others must do it the same way.  Not the case.  There must be a respect of other’s view points in order for peace to be reached.  I need to learn how to not take the two letter word “no” not so personally.  I need to do some praying and reading on what the correct balance is between Yes and No in parenting.  I ultimately want to be a parent that God is proud of.  I want to be the parent that He designed me to be.  A parent like Him.  A godly parent.  Sounds like a huge responsiblity and I suppose being a parent is.

Love, Mel

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Filed under Mommyhood Meditations, Posted by Melissa