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health & wellness marriage

Who are you? From frozen bacon.

I had been to two sessions with my counselor alone before I invited Chris to come along. We went out for a sushi lunch beforehand and chatted easily. It’s easy, being with him. Even in the hard, ugly places. We walked into our counselor’s office smiling, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries. We sat down on his couch and cozied up. It was their first time ever meeting each other, but we’re married. We’ve done hard before. We know each other well. This is simply a season where need a few extra tips.

The questions came, and the stories came, and the questions came again. Our guy is good, the kind of man who presses you to think and pray and sort and then allow the Holy Spirit to draw things out of you. New self-awareness, problems, fresh ideas, old ideas, you get the picture. So the counselor asked, and we answered. Then he asked me to explain a story a little further, asking more questions and pausing in all the right places. It’s the closest to an out-of-body experience I might have ever had. We started talking about a certain frozen bacon incident from the previous morning, and I just went for it. I shared and exposed my heart, almost without any thought. Just reactions. Yes. No. Because this is important to me. I’m good at this. It fulfills me. I failed at that, though. So I’m a failure.

And then it was over, and I felt so free. Like I’d been honest with myself for the first time in a long time. I looked over to my husband, to the man holding my hand and loving me unconditionally, to find him staring at me. Mouth slightly agape, he looked sort of horrified and fascinated at the same time. Who are you? he asked with his eyes. And our counselor laughed. He said something to the effect of, “She’s not alone, Chris. This is how a lot of women are. We have to learn to think like this because…”

“It’s totally foreign to me,” Chris said. “I don’t even know what that feels like. I can’t even fathom how she got there from frozen bacon.”

And just like that, after nearly a decade together, we met again. We started over, from frozen bacon. We let the Holy Spirit draw things out of us. New self-awareness, problems, fresh ideas, and old ideas, you get the picture.

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health & wellness life lately marriage motherhood

family night healing

Let’s do something fun for dinner, Chris says. The weather is warm. Let’s shoot for a place outside. There’s room in the budget, remember? He hasn’t forgotten that I canceled our Valentine’s Day date. His favorite burger place is just up the road, and he’s only dropped the hint three or four times that afternoon. I agree and head for the car. The idea of no prep and no clean-up sounds really, really good. The big kids load up the little ones, explaining the concept of honor roll and how they both nailed it this quarter. Everyone is in a good mood, with almost-springtime electricity rippling through the truck. The music is up and windows are down. Chris reaches over and grabs my hand with a squeeze that says I love you. You’re going to be okay. Look around you and breathe this family in. 

We choose to sit inside at the restaurant, where there’s a table big enough for all of us. I hope it’s okay that we’re here with this big crew. We’ll try not to bother anyone, I say to the hostess. She laughs. We love kids, and you are all welcome here! We sit down with the usual shuffle, crayons and seat preferences flying. May we please have Sprite? Do you want to try the fried pickles? Of course, and sure.

We place our orders, working out the who-shares-with-whom details. I’m trying the special tonight – some sort of tuna burger. The fried pickles arrive. I wink at the boys who guzzle their sodas, and I thank the waiter who fills up the little pigs’ water bottles. The baby nurses and nobody in the joint bats an eyelash. The twins wave and smile at every person who walks by. Ames learned to wink this week, so he doesn’t hesitate to try it out on the waitstaff. I smile as Avery shares his personal space so well, serving the girls tastes and gently shoving grubby hands from his plate. Lucas asks to get Hadassah when she’s done eating, and he props her up beside him. She’s like the most perfect-est baby ever, he says. She gets her first taste of lemon tonight, much to everyone’s entertainment.

The food is delicious and the vibe is joyful. We finish the meal with a game of tag around the fountain outside. Avery impresses everyone with his ability to run the perimeter and avoid falling in, even while getting pushed and tickled  by the rest of us. We load into the Suburban and turn up the tunes once more, moaning about how full we are. As we near the house, Chris misses the driveway on purpose. I can’t pull in while this song is playing, he says as he claps and sings along to Happy at the top of his lungs.

As we park and pour out of the truck, Chris smiles at me. That did your heart good, right? Yes. I can feel it… the thawing of this winter season, both outside of my home and inside of my heart. The Lord is near to the weary, y’all. So, so near. It’s just that when we’re tired, sometimes we have to open our eyes a little wider.

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health & wellness motherhood

The cry for help.

It had been building for months, but I swore up and down it wasn’t postpartum depression. I still do, to an extent. Everything about Hadassah Lee fills me with joy. I cherish everything about her, even down to her nighttime antics which give me little sleep and no rest. I swore up and down it wasn’t hormones, either. Nor was it winter. I can handle the cold and the dark. But still I was angry most days. All day. I cried a lot, at the drop of a hat. There was a lot of yelling, slamming, leaving the house. I figured out how to dump quickly and efficiently on my husband, and how to mask everything from the kids. My kids are perceptive. They ask me what’s wrong. They give hugs. In the loud places, I stonewalled. In the quiet places, I crumpled. I tried to think rationally through situations and describe my emotions, to take away their power. The only word I kept coming up with was rage. It was bright and blinding.

And then came the cry for help. The event that set off the alarms. A big blaring sign that read GET HELP, RACH.

It was a typical midweek morning. Chris was still unloading his gear and his thoughts from Sunday’s services while simultaneously preparing for the next one. I’d worked the previous day and stormed through the house, cleaning and fuming with what had become the usual fury. We were trying to get out of the house for some reason, but I can’t remember the plans now. I asked Chris to get the girls’ boots for them while I finished getting dressed. After a few minutes of searching, it was discovered that one pair of boots was missing. We looked in the usual spots, to no avail. Instead of just rolling with it and letting Chris grab another pair of shoes for the forlorn twin, I lost my junk. I refused to the leave the house until the missing boots were found, letting it take me to tears. Tears, over some missing boots. I made the kids sit on the couch while I stomped around, convinced that nobody else could find the missing boots as well as I. And besides, they’d just get in the way. I was on a mission. The muttering below my breath became loud and forceful, words and emotions flying as if this were truly the end of my world. I could feel myself, see myself acting absolutely crazy over something so small and yet… I couldn’t let it go. The boots were eventually found nearly an hour later and we loaded everyone up, late to our destination. Chris hadn’t said a word the entire time, but I could feel it. I had crossed the line. I had become fixated on the something trivial to the detriment of my mood, my day, and my family. And this wasn’t the first time. But I knew it needed to be the last.

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health & wellness motherhood

I’m coming out.

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Hadassah Lee has been the easiest, happiest baby I’ve ever known. It’s become a running joke in our family, that she’s everyone’s favorite Kincaid kid. When I look at her, I literally feel as if I’m floating. When I hold her, I feel grounded and sure. She was the bright spot in a difficult year, but she did not overcome the darkness entirely. This little chubby smiling thing is not enough to restore the joy that’s been threatened, as I’ve muscled and fought through difficulties in nearly every other area of my life. And she shouldn’t be enough. I accept that nothing here on earth can seep into all of those cracks, enough to heal wounds and frustration and anxiety. But what happens when you know the One who is enough, but you still feel sad and angry most of the time?  What happens when you know the Truth and can’t seem to get it to sink in?

Over the last several weeks, I’ve felt my resolve slipping and my heart sinking into a depression. In the past, I’ve written about these postpartum seasons after emerging from them, but I feel a little differently about it right now. Maybe sharing thoughts and feelings and realizations during this process will bring a little more life to my heart and to a few of my readers. As I mentioned last week, I started seeing a counselor for the first time ever. I already feel myself thawing a bit after just one session. I’m looking forward to feeling like myself again, but I’m also taking the time to soak a bit in this pain and see what the Lord has for me here. I hope that makes sense. You guys are incredible. Thanks for taking this journey with me. And thanks, Joules, for this amazing sweater. I wear it too often. For real.

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health & wellness life lately

see ya never

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This is a photo of my four young children and I, eating at a truck stop because our Suburban overheated repeatedly during our trip to visit family after Christmas. I was so far beyond rock bottom at this point, that I actually started to laugh after Christopher snapped this. We’ve since gotten the car fixed, but I cannot say the same about my heart. Dramatic? Maybe. But I’m not gonna lie. This was a hard year. I’m glad to see it behind me.

And listen, I want to be okay with that. I feel like this is sort of a taboo idea in Christian culture, and I want to talk about it. We can be women of valor, daughters of the King, eternal optimist go-getters and do-gooders… and we can still hurt. We can birth babies and advance in career and ministry, and we can still leave the party a bit frustrated. I believe God isn’t scared of that. I believe that’s the beauty of the gospel. It meets us where we are. It walks alongside us. Christ in me, even in the hard places. 2013 gave me some beautiful moments, a new home, and a little lady who stole my heart. There was some serious growth. I’ve got a sweet highlight reel, most of which involves me falling harder in love with my family than ever before. But I’m also leaving the party a bit frustrated, and a bit hurt.

So I’m going to kick 2014 in the teeth.

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health & wellness life lately

put your head down

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Recently, I’ve been struck with the importance of attitude, especially as it relates to my unit at work. With the way surgical patients come and go, a nurse can easily turn over his or her entire assignment in a twelve-hour shift. We walk for miles and miles, and we consider it a good day if we pee before lunch. Assessments, medications, doctors, tests, blood transfusions, education, therapy, hourly rounding… a normal day is enough to frazzle even the most experienced nurse. Add to that the idea that med-surg is merely a stepping stone for most nurses, and it’s easy to see why one might see a pretty high turnover on most units like mine.

Medical-surgical nursing is a special kind of work. Fast and furious. Hard and heavy. It’s certainly not for everyone, and I totally understand why. In nursing school, I barely passed my adult health classes. I never volunteered to perform skills in front of my peers, instead keeping myself busy “taking notes” in the back. I applied to every specialty job I could find when I graduated, so as to avoid med-surg at all costs. Eventually, though, I decided I needed some real, medical experience. I transferred into a med-surg job at a hospital, and I haven’t left since. I cannot imagine myself anywhere else. It’s not always easy, and it’s not always fun. But it’s where I belong right now, and I’m grateful for the calling. On the days that I feel like calling out sick, on the days that I wish I was a stay-at-home mom, I just put my head down. I grit my teeth and get through the day. Sometimes I find myself coaching the girls at work through this idea. When I’m in charge and find a nurse stressing, I try to make a point to pull him or her aside. I ask them to say it all out loud. Get it out, vent, process, brainstorm… and then get to work.

I’ve said this time and time again, but I’m still not sure how to respond when people ask me how I do it all. When it comes to my nursing job, I just do it. It’s the same with my family, my job at Influence, and all of the other parts of my life. I put my head down and go to work. I know so much of my life is about looking up and looking out. So much of my life must be about community and vulnerability, but it can’t always be that way. Sometimes, it’s about me choosing joy even when I don’t feel like it. Sometimes, it’s about reminding myself that I’m blessed to have a job in this economy, especially a rewarding job that I actually enjoy. Or it’s about reminding myself that I’m blessed to have a house full of children, even when they’re hard.

Ladies, I feel like getting through the hard stuff with grace is absolutely vital to our femininity as women. I also feel like this might be something our generation is in danger of missing. For this life to be fulfilling, we must get our hands dirty. As far as I can tell, the gospel demands it. At home or at our jobs, the story is the same. We’re tempted to complain or avoid or quit when things get tough or uncomfortable. I know because I’ve been there, but I don’t want to be about that anymore. I don’t want to raise children under this idea, either. I want to be a wife, a mother, a writer, a nurse, and a friend who leads by example. I want to be the kind of woman who isn’t afraid to put my head down and get the job done.

Who’s with me?

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health & wellness

know it, work it, embrace it.

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Finishing out this #31days series on an honest word and a call to action.

My life, especially the one I live online, isn’t about painting a prettier picture than the one that exists. That’s too much work, y’all. I don’t have the energy or the resources for that. Instead, I want to inspire with my vulnerability, and encourage with my honesty. I want to learn what it means to really live out the vision of our network. I want learn to use the influence I have, right where I am.

I long to see a community of women, especially mothers, changing culture online. Imagine what the Internet could become if we all agreed to work out our strengths and embrace our weaknesses. Imagine the powerful implications of a world where women speak life to one another, regardless of personal (or religious!) preferences and opinions. Imagine how safe motherhood could become.

My name is Rachael, and I’m really good at keeping a schedule. I’m passionate about my kids never smelling like maple syrup or pee, so they rarely do. I make my bed every day. When my kids fight, I make them stay in the same room and talk it out, and then hug each other afterwards until everyone is laughing. I can prepare really cheap meals that don’t taste like dirt. I’m a good nurse, and I enjoy working outside of the home. When I say I’m going to do something, I do it.

It’s creeping up on a year since we moved into the farmhouse, and our decor is still in boxes. My kitchen boasts multiple layers of peeling paint and decades-old wallpaper, and we have yet to plant a garden. It might be years before our home and our land gives us the harvest of which we dream. I have a pretty short fuse with my toddlers. I’m a morning person, but I often wake up grumpy. I’m self-conscious about wearing a red lip. Also, I hate vacuuming and doing my hair, so I do a pretty poor job of both.

Women, can we take a moment to toot our own horns? It’s time to know what you’re good at. Say it out loud. Work it out. But let’s not forget to admit our weaknesses, either. It’s okay to laugh at the silly. The more real we get with one another, the more powerful our community becomes.

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