moments

Shiny happy people…

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When a person looks at these pictures I feel like they see shiny happy people. The Instagram/Facebook portrayal of a perfect life. A romantic couple who love each other,  fun and adventurous. As much as those things are true (not the perfect part!), the pictures don’t tell the whole truth.

The first picture was taken at our good friends wedding where we danced the night away and had a great evening. Yet in the back of my mind I was holding onto a hope that we may just be pregnant. It had been fifty four days since my last period. I had bought a pregnancy test that I would take the next morning. Yes, it was a fun filled evening but I was also full of anxiety on the inside, hoping against hope that the next morning our lives would be changed forever.

The morning came, I took the test. Negative. Again. I crumbled. The friends we were staying with went out to give us some space. I couldn’t stop crying. Once again, we were not pregnant.

A day later we were flying out to Amsterdam to see an old friend who had invited us for a visit. I couldn’t wait to escape our reality for even a few days. I enjoyed the trip so much (especially the bicycle rides over picturesque bridges). But the whole time in the back of my head was our truth, the reality I was trying desperately to ignore. We were still not pregnant. We were still not going to have our desired family. It was hard, really hard.

Fast forward to present day and imagine this picture with me. A tired Mom sits on the floor of the bathroom as one of her twin sons learns to use the potty. She says to him again that she knows he can do it. Then they both hear it. A tiny, tinkling stream comes out. Success!!! She throws her arms around him and tells him how proud she is of him. They lock eyes, he leans in and gives her a sweet kiss right on the lips and says ‘I wuv you Momma.’ She tells him she loves him too. Her eyes well with tears and she hugs him tight, for that extra second.

That moment right there, the one that is dirty, stinky, un-showered and NOT on social media is the real stuff. That is the moment that a Momma thanks God over and over again for the gift of her miracle boys. The moment when she can’t believe she is living the dream that for so many years had turned into a nightmare of struggling with infertility.

All those tears of bitterness have finally turned to tears of sweetness. And that is why I wrote my story. Maybe, just maybe you are that couple struggling that will be next to get pregnant. My heart is breaking for you. The waiting is torture. Or maybe you are the couple who wonders if your friends are struggling? You bounce your baby happily while your friend seems distant. This is the bittersweetness that encompasses all of life. Resolution and answers may or may not come. Until then, take each day as it comes. Love on people in real life. You never know what those other shiny, happy people are going through.

Side note: If you want to find out more about my book: The Heart Wants What the Heart Wants follow me on Instagram @breannachud and on Facebook @Breannajochud.

 

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Let’s go back…

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Before there were twins, before we had these little men, before I was a Mom and Bryan was a Dad there was INFERTILITY. For NINE years. For nine years we struggled to get pregnant. We tried so many different approaches, doctors, philosophies and suffered disappointment after disappointment. Maybe this is where you are at. Disappointment. Or maybe you know someone who is there. It is not the place you want to be. People seem to not understand, are insensitive, you feel crazy, exhausted, heartbroken and the list goes on. I will never forget those nine years. Nor will anyone forget any amount of time they struggle with infertility. file-1

What seems like the most natural thing in the world, reproducing, slips out of your tightly clenched fists and you didn’t even see it coming. You thought it would just take some time. The days turn to months, the months to a year, the year to years. I am literally having a difficult time breathing as I type this because the memories I carry from infertility are so very real and are still present in my everyday life. I don’t want to sound extreme but at times I have wondered if infertility can produce Post Traumatic Stress symptoms? I am not trying to belittle people who suffer from this very real and awful disorder but I think that infertility is a trauma. It effects your mind, body, emotions and soul. It has left imprints on my heart that will never disappear. And that is one of the biggest reasons why I wanted to write about our journey. I needed to write about it. To sort through it in my own head and heart. To find some kind of catharsis in the midst of this nightmare that I lived and breathed for so long. I also figured that maybe I would share our story if it could help others. So here I am today, finally sharing my Facebook page about my book and even posting info on my Insta story. Man how life has changed in the last ten years! Dear love the teens trying to navigate this crazy world of social media!file-2

So this is me celebrating my small starting victory of actually putting myself and our story out there! In the Big Bad World of Social Media! Yikes! It scares me a little when I say it like that. But mostly I am just relieved. (White wine and chocolate covered peanut butter filled pretzels thank you very much!)

I have been walking around with this book burning a hole in my soul for the guts of two years now. I had plans of it being published shortly after I wrote it but life happened.

Funny how that works! I wrote the book, we moved to back to the states and into our friends sweet home for four and a half months. Bryan worked his tail off and commuted for those months. My sweet Papa was diagnosed with cancer. Then we moved into our own place, I started working again, Bryan somehow managed to balance his work with my work. Summer came. Northern Irish family visited. We went to Alaska to see the Chud family. Came home to Pre-Season and worsening news about my Papa. Bryan’s Mama was diagnosed with Lymphoma. Then September hit and all hell broke loose. Cancer destroyed any remaining health my Father had and the day after his 80th birthday he went to be with Jesus, the 2nd of October, 2017. All the while our sweet MamaChud had started chemo. So yeah, lots of life happened. file

While life was happening I was living a whirlpool of emotions. One day I was peaceful and content, the next I was sitting on my couch sobbing about the rapid loss of my precious Dad, fully grieving the man that had always been my hero. Due to all of these things I feel like the last year or so I didn’t have the chance to really enjoy the boys as much as I wanted to. It was much more about survival than any type of thriving. Since my Father’s passing I have been focused on soaking up every ounce of enjoyment they possess. I also have felt that fire burning my bum cheeks reminding me that this life is but a vapor. file

I have been playing extra hard with the boys. We have built more train tracks than I can count and created play dough planes and sharks often. Hide and seek is still a favourite and I kiss them constantly, tell them I love them at least every hour they are awake. I just can’t help myself nor do I see the need to stop. This life is so brief and these moments were meant to be savoured and enjoyed! file1

This again is part of the impetus of pushing forward with this book. I talk to so many women who are struggling, I have friends who are being crushed under the weight of infertility and I want so badly to change their story but I can’t. What I can do though is share my own. I can share how some days I literally wanted to curse every pregnant woman I saw. I couldn’t attend parties for worry that some curious and oblivious bystander would ask ‘why we hadn’t started our family yet?’ I still feel your pain friends. I still get sweaty and my heart races when I think about taking a pregnancy test after years of negative results. file2

No one knows what the future holds and I can’t promise anyone a family. Oh how I wish I could! That every couple longing to become parents would! Yet that is not within my power. All I can do is use my one precious life to help others. To daily love my husband, love on my boys and share the painful parts of my story that God has been restoring and healing. file-3 (1)

Now if you read all the way to the bottom of this post, thank you. It was a bit lengthy I know. Thank you for sticking with me! For those of you who are interested I will be putting updates on my social media sites including Facebook, my blog and Instagram. You can find out more about my book on my Facebook page specifically for the book: https://www.facebook.com/breannajochud/  You can also follow me here at my blog: http://www.breannajochud.wordpress.com or at Instagram at Breanna Chud. What I hope for is that this book finds those who have been isolated because of infertility. Are struggling and can’t even talk about it with their closest friends. Those who feel alone or simply crazy because let’s be real, infertility does that! Please share this with them if you know who they are!! Please read along so that you have a better understanding of what this all looks like. I promise, knowing how to love someone in this difficult time will not be something you will regret! Thank you again for your time and support!!

Next steps…

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Some years are harder to say goodbye to than others and this was that kind of year. 2017 was unknowingly the last year I would have with my sweet Papa and that in turn made it hard to let go of. 2018 has begun and is the first year without him here. Without a text, a phone call or one of his all encompassing hugs upon arriving home to my parents house. The proof of his well lived life is everywhere but he is not. That’s a difficult realization to settle into. I’m not sure you ever fully settle.

Watching my family go through our first Christmas without him, especially my Mom was emotional. I am so thankful for our boys though. In the midst of the heaviness they brought life, light and laughter to our family. We remembered him well though. One of my brothers read the Christmas story like my Papa used to while the other one prayed the prayer that my Papa usually prays. There was not a dry eye in the house. Yet even as my brother prayed, Cohen, our sweet, social butterfly wanted to join in. So he did. He tried to repeat everything my brother prayed. This is how we say our prayers at night. Bryan or I pray and the boys repeat. It was a breath of fresh air in a room that was suffocating. Thank you Coco for your heart to join into every aspect of life all the time!

After Christmas was over sickness fell over so many of us. The end. Or at least that was kind of how it felt. I was so sick, Cohen was too, my Mom, my brother, one of my sister in laws, my niece and then Bryan and Kidran eventually got it too. But we are back in our sweet little house again. I have taken down our minimal Christmas decorations and am decluttering our tiny space. It is a spring clean in January!

I still have yet to write down my New Years Resolutions and share it with some of my Home Team girls from Northern Ireland. I still have yet to finish my book. I still have a few drawers to clean out. Yet I feel a desire to pursue wholeness this year. How? I have no idea. I think it will start by listening to my body, soul and emotions. When I feel tired, take a nap. When I feel lethargic, do a workout. When I feel drained, call a life-giving friend to go to the Monks with me. When I don’t feel good enough, remind myself that I am all I need to be in this season. Full stop.

I also have a list of chapters I want to close this year. In order to embrace what the future has for me, I need to walk out of this room and shut the door. I hope to shut it with a gentle, thankful pause. Then I will walk down the dark hallway toward the light I see creeping in. I will walk out of the house into a wide, open space. My lungs will fill with fresh air, like a first breath of a baby entering the world. A field lays stretching out before me and it’s inviting me into new adventures this year. Ones that will stretch me, ones that will break and mend me, ones that will give me eyes to see, ears to hear and a heart that is full. That is what I speak out for my life this year. And for yours too. This is our year. I am taking it with gentle force and so should you. Oh, and I am gonna dance a whole lot more this year too!

PS Lovely, fun pics showing a bit of our happenings over the holiday and this season of life! Enjoy!

Wrestling…

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The boys had a check-up today at the doctor’s office. It was actually kind of fun to take them back and see how much progress they have made. Not only have they grown taller and weigh more, they also handled the procedures of the appointment better. There were no shots today thankfully which made it easier but they still did great! Things that upset them before they embraced. They listened well and interacted with the doctor and staff in fun and playful ways while still being respectful. A lot to accomplish at the age of three! Needless to say I was proud! Plus they are so darn cute right now and full of exploding personality and talking flat out which is super entertaining!

Speaking of their weight gain…good old fashioned wrestling has become less of an engaging activity for me these days. They are so much bigger and when we wrestle they can hurt me now. Like the ‘land on me and knock the breath right out of me’ kind of hurt! They don’t hold back and I love it but I am leaving that kind of wrestling to Dada while I steal as many cuddles as I can! Most of the time these cuddles come in a form of less intense wrestling though. They love being tickled, poked and picked up, all ticking the box of physical affection they crave and need while saving my body. Hallelujah!

As I thought about the physical wrestling that happens with our boys it got me thinking about the personal wrestling we all go through. There are times in life when we struggle and fight. Not necessarily physical wrestling but working stuff out that requires hard effort, persistence along with serious character building. I imagine Mary, the Mother of Jesus, took part in some wrestling as her little holy bump of a babe developed.  A bump that had nothing to do with her future husband, Joseph, but everything to do with hope for humanity!

The Bible describes Mary as accepting this honor with grace and acceptance. Yet…I wonder if she ever had a little freak out? Did she ever go back and forth with God, even just once about ‘Why me? Why now?’ Culturally there was so much at stake for her and she had to have felt the looks and judgement towards her. I wonder if she felt afraid for her life at times? Was the pressure overwhelming? I imagine it to be. We read verses like Luke 1:38 “I am the Lord’s servant, may your word to be me be fulfilled.” -Mary, and we think it was easy for her, #motherofthemessiah. She was heroic, angelic, gifted, etc. She was, after all, the Mother of Jesus. Yet we also forget her humanity. I think Mary was incredible. I think she had vision for saving her people. Yet I also think she was a woman, who was unmarried and pregnant in a time and place where that alone could get her stoned to death. Still Mary could see something no one else could see. I think Mary had a feeling and sense that she was exactly where she was supposed to be. (An angelic visitation probably helped!)

Lately, more accurately, since we left Northern Ireland I have felt like I have been wrestling. Wrestling God, myself, my dreams, my passions, my exhaustion, my emotions, my everything really. It’s been hard and felt long. Yet I have had this sense of purpose through it all. Today I had a moment. One of those moments that you not only blog about but journal about. I had just finished a quick meeting with a friend after our staff meeting at work. I was walking up the hill I always walk up after work when I got the sense that God was telling me I am exactly where I’m supposed to be. This place is a place of tension. Tension with my dreams, giftings, passions, ability, etc. Tension is not always easy but Jesus gets that, I mean he was God’s son living in a broken and hurting world after all. He gets tension. But in this place there is satisfaction. There is fullness. There is a calming, an anchoring happening. There is a new level of trust and acceptance developing. Trust and acceptance of myself especially, of who I am but also of who I am not. I am not trying so hard and it feels good.

The past few years I have started looking forward, almost craving the season of Advent. I was slightly aware of a type of Advent growing up but it mainly involved the chocolate countdown calendar that my boys are now experiencing. Now I follow an Advent practice that causes me to pause, think, look at beautiful artwork, listen to glorious music and soak in some of the deeper meanings of Advent. It’s in this season of Advent that my wrestling becomes more visible. What are you wrestling with this Advent? What dreams are you staring at that are not coming true? What questions are you asking that are remaining unanswered? What do you hope and pray shifts this year? Lean in. Lean into the tension. Lean into the blank space. Lean into the darkness.

I have no answers or clever remedies. Some things are done in secret, quiet and not on our timeline. So we wrestle. Never be embarrassed by the wrestling. You just may touch God and come away changed. In fact I am almost sure you will. And that is worth the wrestle.

PS. These are a few pics of this season of life! Us as a family at a carol service where Cohen thought he was part of the program! Lol! Bryan taking the boys to one of the many parks we visit year round no matter the weather. Some of my amazing coworkers from Purpose Boutique at our Christmas party. And finally the boys at Crossroads Mall where they have every old fashioned kid ride known to man!

Come close…

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One of the boys favourite little games we play right now is fee-fi-fo-fum. They run down the hall, jump into our bed and ‘hide-hide-hide’ under the covers until I stomp down the hall pretending to be a giant shouting for them. Recently I have been invited into the game in a new role. They take turns playing the giant and want me to hide under the covers with them. Some days I don’t want to play these little games that feel like ground hog day and there’s a pile of laundry flooding out of the next room. But then there are these moments. The kind that cause me to stop breathing. The kind that make me realize how short life is. How short this time with the boys being little is. The moments that I am pretty sure are going to replay in my mind when I watch them ride a bike for the first time, drive for the first time, graduate, get married, etc.

When we are playing this sweet game and we are hiding under the covers, they come in close. Each of them. They whisper to me to be quiet, that we are hiding. I get to have their faces inches from mine. I get to study their different and distinctly blue eyes, their mouths with ruby lips, their wild blonde curls. I get to smell their hot little boy breath that doesn’t stink yet but smells warm and sweet. Sometimes they will grab my hand or snuggle in close for only a second. One. Little. Second.

These seconds are precious and so tiny I almost miss them some days. Because as the other little man stomps down the hall, the anticipation builds. The door bursts open with a squeal of delight and we are all joining in! The noise is astounding as is the untamed excitement. We all end up on the bed laughing and wrestling as that’s what most things turn into when you are a mom of little boys.

This little glimpse is teaching me a lot about my own life. I struggle to live in the present on a daily basis. I am a future kind of girl. Always thinking, dreaming and planning for the next step. That is useful and helpful at times but also can steal joy in the present, very real and beautiful moments of my day to day life. I am working on being more mindful. Breathing more deeply. Not pushing myself to run on fumes. To learn what real rest looks like for me and be okay with taking that rest when I need it. Thankfully I am married to an incredible man who sees me so clearly and knows what I need often before I do.

This ‘living in the present’ struggle also runs into many other areas of my life. But now more than ever I see the desperate need to live in the here and now. To look people in the eye and tell them I love them. To truly listen when someone shares what they are going through. To find connection in even the briefest of moments because I am really seeing the person I am with, not moving on to the next time we get together.

So what I am hoping for is a few more seconds…

 

The aftermath…

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I.LOVE.SUMMER!!!! The heat, the light evenings, the unstructured-take-it-as-it-comes schedule, the playing!

This summer is no exception. Our summer has been filled to the brim with fun, family and friendship. Time in Idaho, Northern Irish visitors and then a magical escape to Alaska have all been pretty epic if I do say so myself! We have pushed ourselves and the boys to keep going at breakneck speed and for the most part all of us have done okay.

Yet our first two days back in Washington, routine, normal bedtimes and familiar surroundings have shown me that maybe we went a bit too far. When your normally early rising toddlers aren’t getting up till 9am (thank you Jesus!) you know you went beyond your capacity. The cracks have been showing for the last week with the boys being a bit grumpy and us being just really tired. So the unraveling of some bad habits is happening and we are in one of those lovely adjustment periods. You know what I mean right? The times when you feel like your parenting skills are substandard and your children have developed super human powers to push all your buttons at once. Yeah, it’s one of those times.

Bedtime tonight was especially delightful. And yes, I am being sarcastic. I took all of the boys toys, comfort pieces and blankets. I even unscrewed the lightbulbs in their bedroom to discourage their war on sleep. The boys did not nap today which made them extra cranky tonight. The thinking that this would mean an earlier than normal bedtime was completely inaccurate. Ha! So many grand plans lay in wreck and ruin from toddlers who took over the world inside their home!!

Yet once again my boys melted my hardened heart towards their little revolt. Kidran would continually agree with me when I would reprimand them with his encouraging ‘Yawh!’ Somehow he has inherited this from me and I got it from my Mom! It’s so stinkin’ cute though! Then Cohen asked me to kiss all the places he hurt in his little mutiny in his bed. We finished by me kissing each finger tip and the not to be forgotten thumb.

It was in the sweetness of that moment that once again my heart turned towards my two little men. Tired and overstimulated from the experiences of so many trips and people in such a short space of time. Exhausted from the pace of life their little legs were not meant to keep up with. I also have noticed that they seem less enthused with their normal favourite spots to play. Alaska has gotten into their veins and the restriction of modern city life is cramping their ever-growing style. I find myself saying ‘no’ more often, ‘don’t do that’ a lot and that is okay. They will learn to appreciate the offerings of each place they land in the future. Right now it’s just hard to explain the feeling of being out of sorts to our little men.

As I pondered the way Kidran and Cohen had dealt with the transitions of the summer I felt a new grace applied to my heart and soul. The 17th of July marked our first full year back in the states after our 12 year planting/rooting in Northern Ireland. The year has been incredible in so many ways. Reconnecting with old, dear friends, starting new and exciting jobs, being closer to family, being surrounded by mountains again, the list could go on. It doesn’t feel that long ago that we left this place because it is so familiar.

Still when I think of home my heart sees Northern Ireland. The green, the sea, the people, the growing up and growing together that was done. At first I would try to push these thoughts and feelings away. Not anymore. I welcome them. I sit with them. I treasure them. They are an intricate part of my story now. A part that is filled with love, depth and peace that came from pressing into a place. Often times people talk about growing where you are planted. I remember releasing myself to that way of thinking in Northern Ireland at times when I didn’t feel settled, when it felt foreign and not like home. So I am comforted that right now I am back to working at growing right here, right now, where I am.

Are you growing right where you are? What would help you to do that easier, with more grace for yourself and others? I would love to hear your thoughts!

The sweetness of motherhood…

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Lately I have been feeling extra tired. This is from lack of self-care with one of my biggest needs…sleep. I am not one of those people who can run on six hours of sleep for weeks on end. That is a recipe for emotional and physical breakdown for me. Yet somehow it often happens. The boys sleep great through the night most of the time but they have been pushing their bedtime back farther and farther each day and consistently waking up around 6am. You do the math and it makes sense that I am probably not getting the recommended amount of sleep needed per night nor is Bryan. We know it’s a season and it will pass but it still means we are tired a lot of the time.

Recently I was at a Moms group and we were talking about Self-Care. It was a great reminder that not only does my mind, heart and spirit need tending but my body as well. Grace and kindness applied to myself in lavish doses is what is required. Is this what you need to? Do you find yourself tired, functioning in a not so ‘present’ way with your spouse and children? Can you make time for more sleep/rest in the days and weeks to come? If so, do it!!! You will not regret it!!

Yet I also want to thank lack of sleep for a sweet moment I had with both my boys this morning. Cohen ended up coming and sleeping in bed with me at 4am (which never happens as I sleep even less with little bodies next to me) and by 5:30am both Cohen and Kidran were in bed with me, wide awake. Cohen was sitting up in our bed, jabbering/talking away poking at my eyes, nose and teeth while Kidran lay on the other side of me softly stroking my arm. I know there will come a day when they are grown up that I would give anything to capture one of these moments again and hold onto it for just a little bit longer which is why I am writing about it today. I will look back and long for my little boys to be 2 1/2, in bed with me in all their cuteness, snuggling, no boundaries, no concerns, just being present with their Momma whom they show generous love to daily. Yes, I will remember this morning in the coming years.