What Motherhood is Teaching Me

Do you remember being little?

Do you remember wondering what your life would be when you grew up?

Did you ever think you’d be a mom? I can vaguely remember picturing that I would have a boy and a girl (ha!) and I LOVED the name Elizabeth, so I would say I wanted a daughter named that. (Ha again; we have a Reese EliSabeth!) But much beyond that, I don’t remember too much I suppose… I didn’t really know how to dream for my adulthood I don’t think, other than hoping horses were in my future.

There are SOME things I remember though about being a KID, and one is that I thought my mom had all the answers. And then I remember being annoyed and frustrated when she was ‘right’ or if she knew ‘too much.’ I can remember being angry with her (sorry, Mom) and having way too many hormonal emotions throughout the years; but I also remember always NEEDING her. I wanted her back tickles, no matter how old I got. I wanted her to listen, even if I’d get annoyed at times when she would weigh in. I wanted her approval, even though I didn’t. I wanted her appraisal, even when it looked more like tough love.

As we have come full circle, and I have that boy and girl God knew I would have…there are a lot of things that I am feeling. I feel as if the little years painfully went too quickly. I went from pregnant to delivering healthy, beautiful babies, to chasing toddlers, to now raising a seven and eight year old. Sometimes I forget that I used to be a child. I used to poo poo my mother. I used to brush her off. I used to roll my eyes and give her the side eye. I loved her so dearly, but I know there were moments I didn’t show it. (Sorry again, Mom).

My own kids are at interesting stages and seasons of life. I feel in a way as if my little boy has left me…he was a babbling toddler and such a chatter box, and I remember his tiny voice so clearly. Now he plays basketball around the clock and geeks out over Minecraft. He can be so QUIET. Quiet isn’t bad, but I feel how much less he needs me. He’s too big for me to hold and carry (I remember blog posts I wrote dreading that…..) and more times than not I can feel his annoyance. I see the heavy sighs and eye rolls when asked to clean his room or if I ask to walk the dogs. I often feel like the ‘annoying mom,’ and then I remember…I went through that too.

And I still need and love my mom.

He still wants me to lie with him every single night. He lifts his shirt so I can gently tickle his back and belly. He still loves ‘Magic Sleepy Glasses,’ and he still wraps his arms around me to give me sweet hugs. (No more kisses on the lips though…I’m sad to type that I think those days may be gone.) He’s still my little boy, my forever first baby, and I just PRAY—when he grows up, he will remember how very much I have always loved him.

My daughter too, loves me differently these days. PS: I know all of this is very normal. It’s part of ‘growing up,’ right? But I don’t know that I have sat to intentionally process it in a very long time. Reese is the extrovert; the chatter box, the girl who talks a mile a minute and will tell you any and every thing. For her, it’s a little different. She has always clung to me (sometimes too much) so I can still stay that 90% of the time, she just wants Mama. She wants time with me—to walk and talk and laugh and be silly. And I can see a lot of myself in her (as I can see SO much of Asa in Pierson’s disposition.) Reese is feisty and sassy and sometimes equally as salty as sweet. She can be the BEST at eye rolling, at moaning and groaning when asked to do something she may not want to do, and I sometimes wonder how in the world will I survive teenage years with this girl?!

So right now, in this phase and season of life, I am working harder to embrace when she does cling to me. When she asks, “Can we cuddle and watch Heartland?” or when she wants “one more minute” as I tuck her in. I remember teenage me quite well, and I was NOT an easy teen…

Becoming a mom has taught me so much about sacrifice. About selfless love. About doing your best, even when life is hard. About showing up for your kids, even when you are tired. About harnessing anger (especially when those eye rolls and fussiness comes) and biting my tongue. It has taught me that MY mom, did the best SHE could. She was tired (as all moms are), but that didn’t stop her from being selfless. She was sacrificial. She was patient. And even on little to no sleep, she’d crawl in bed with me to tickle my back and I remember always knowing when she was drifting off to sleep as her hand would slow and then completely stop mid-back. It’s exactly what happens with me and my kids. MANY nights, I am so tired, and mid back tickle I doze and fall asleep. (I wonder if my kids think the same thing I did those nights, “Noooo, just a little longer!” Ha!)

Being a mom, has given me a new love for my mom. I can see her better. I understand better. I can FEEL her emotions deeper. She taught me how to be a mother, and if my kids ever get married and have their own kids, I pray I am also teaching THEM to parent well.

Mother’s Day is a few days away. I know that not every woman WANTS to be a mom, and that is okay! I know that many women who want to be a mom, cannot be. I know that this weekend may be painful to so many women, so I also want to take the space to say remember ALL women, everywhere. Be kind. Be careful what you say. Love the women in your circles well. Check on them. Pray for them. And never, ever take the role of being Mom, if you are one, for granted.

Life Lately: Get Back Up Again

From rockstar to rock bottom, let's face it, that's how I am feeling. On March 17, 2018, I was on cloud nine, after receiving the phone call that my childhood dreams were coming true: I was getting a HORSE! 

On April 14th, he arrived from Nashville TN to a stable in Louisville, KY. When he walked off that trailer, every ounce of him was trembling. It was spitting rain, kind of chilly, and as I held his lead rope guiding him through the pasture I remember thinking, "This is it. This is REALLY happening!" I had begged God to have the rain hold off that day and guess what--moments after he arrived the skies opened and all the rain cleared. I'll never forget how high I was on Cloud 9 that day. I was excited, nervous, scared, overwhelmed, a little hesitant, but mostly, in love. I was also relieved that he calmed down so quickly, adjusted super well to the mare he is living with, and in all hindsight, we had zero issues!

I had all the questions in the world but I didn't know how to spit them out. I've never done this horse ownership thing you see, and all my horsewoman friends and acquaintances seem so well polished--they are put together, calm, resilient, and just kind of badass in general. Will that ever be me? I wonder. 

Every day I've driven the 'whopping' one mile down the road to see Mr. Paddy. He has an array of nicknames: Paddy Cake, Pads, Paddington, Paddy Bear, and then, of course, just plain Paddy. Classy O'Prado (his registered name) is one giant and beautiful boy, standing at 16'3 hands tall. We've started small--me walking him around the pasture two times, one in each direction. I started to loosely drape the lead over his neck and teach him how to follow me, and quickly stop. Follow me, and turn, then stop. Follow me, slowly jog after me, stop. And for the most part, he has it down so well. When he stops and I praise him, he puts his gigantic head into my chest and blows out a deep, loving breathe.

Even on day one, I had zero fear of riding my majestic boy. I hopped on him after he had been in the field for less than an hour and slowly trotted around his pasture. I never thought it would or could be any different. I've learned just how naive I have been in this whole owner/horsemanship deal. You don't know what you don't know, right? The same goes for motherhood or any ownership of ANY new animal. How can you predict what will happen? Maybe your baby will sleep through the night and maybe they won't. Maybe they'll fall and have to get stitches--you can't predict that. Maybe your new dog will get potty training down pact right off the bat, and maybe they'll be terrors who chew every single thing in sight into shreds. Maybe your horse will be calm, well behaved, sturdy and quiet, and maybe, just maybe, he'll buck you off. 

You can't predict that.

There's one thing that I have been 100% honest from the beginning of this: I have no clue what I am doing. I thank God for Rene who has owned horses for 20+ years [the lady who owns where I am boarding], because she, honest to God, is my calm. I have gotten into a routine of feeding Paddy his grain (dinner) between 6 and 7 pm each night. Usually, before he eats, we will work on groundwork with the lead rope or I simply spend time brushing him; and then he gets his grain. There were a few days where I attempted to lunge him (again, having NO clue what I was really doing). I knew the basics, how to start and stop, how to stand (or so I thought) and how I should be positioned. I realized really quickly that he despises going clockwise on the lunge line, and one day I spent over twenty minutes trying to get him to listen. Thank GOD I found an amazing trainer who showed me what I was doing wrong, how I was confusing him (I'm so sorry, Paddy!) and it started to go SO well after that. She encouraged me to have him go a few times around, and as long as there were no temper tantrums or little fits while he worked, praise him and move on. End on a good note. Always.  

This year for Mother's Day, I made it pretty clear that I largely wanted to spend the day with Paddy. My husband packed an AMAZING and beautiful picnic, and after church, our whole family went out to the field and enjoyed the spread. Paddy even joined us periodically and stayed real close while we ate; he smelled us, snorted, and took some peppermints happily. The kids then went on to play on the swing set at the house, and I wanted to show Asa how well Paddy was doing lunging. He lunged for me at a walk and trot both directions--with no real issue whatsoever. He seemed, calm, put together, not anxious, and I had no reason to believe that he would be any different once I rode him. I knew that I didn't want to trot him...lately he has been throwing "mini fits" (I call them) with a half-buck and fast run when asked to pick up a trot. This happened a few weeks after he arrived. The first couple of weeks he trotted with zero issues, but he was starting to show signs that something had changed. I'd actually gotten so scared a little while ago when he did it and took off to one end of the pasture, I ended up sobbing atop his back, asking him WHY. He stood perfectly still while I had my mini-meltdown. (I hadn't yet met my trainer yet when that happened, but she came just a few days later). She came and worked with me, watched me ride some, and I admitted to her that I was already experiencing some deep fear riding. (How did it flood in so quickly? When in the beginning, I had none?!) She encouraged me to only do what I felt comfortable doing, so on Mother's Day, my plan was to walk him only. I wanted to show Asa the exercises she had taught me, like small circles, the pressure release with the reins he was learning, and honestly, that was it.

My husband recorded a video of me walking, I was beaming ear to ear and said, "Happy Mother's Day!!" at the camera. Split seconds later, Paddy put himself into a small trot (I should have stopped him) and I remember thinking, "Okay, just go with it." I was going to let him do a small circle when suddenly, my face smashed into his neck and I was catapulted into the air. "Please don't die," I remember thinking. For whatever reason, I put my right LEG out to stop me and landed on my tailbone and butt. As you can imagine, my brain was in warp mode. "Can I move?" I thought. "Is anything broken?" I wondered. I felt liquid come out of me from down there and wondered, "Did I just pee my pants?" I rolled onto all fours and watched the blood pour out of my mouth. I felt like I was going to black out, vomit, and then suddenly, I lost all feeling in both of my hands. I started to yell, groan actually, and I can remember snapping at Asa when he tried to touch my back. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" I screamed. I was so scared, so petrified, and so angry. I looked over slightly to see Paddy with the reins kind of loose on his neck, saddle still intact, and his head was down. Asa said he had walked into the stall to check on Addie (the mare he resides with who was being stalled), and then he had walked over to me. Pretty quickly the owners came out and checked on me, Rene prompted her husband to call 9-1-1. Within minutes, the EMT and firetruck arrived, and I was loaded onto a stretcher. My poor kids watched, wondering I'm sure if Mom would be okay, what happened, and what this meant for the rest of their day and night. Both of them were so brave and stoic, which made me weep even harder behind the closed ambulance doors. We definitely did not end on a good note this day.

Long story short and after eight hours at the ER, we discovered I ripped my perineum and needed three stitches. (The liquid after the fall was blood, I just had no idea yet.) That has happened before, in childbirth, and I remember back then thinking it was no big deal. I also was able to hold the really cute brand new babies when I got those big shots and the stitching occurred--not so much the case this time. The feeling came back to my hands shortly after being in the ER, but they did a full body CT anyway, which thank God was clear. I have a giant gash on my lip, that they literally 'forgot' to stitch up, and I am hoping that it will fully heal. I look like a monster for the time being. It has been three days and I am still experiencing slight bleeding and am in an incredible amount of pain 'down there.' The first day (Monday) I cried on and off all day. I have had moments of paralyzing fear and anger, feelings of hopelessness, and I feel very, very broken in all aspects: mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and physically. I have laughed (and cried) over the fact that this thirty-year-old is only comfortable in adult diapers because hello, this is basically like postpartum all over again.

I haven't had many falls prior to this one. I can remember one when I was a kid on the Arabian I grew up riding, and I honest to God think I MADE myself fall off because I wanted that 'cool story' behind me. Wow, Ashley...

Everyone tells me that I'll fall again. That more than likely, he will probably buck again. He is a five year old Thoroughbred, who and how can you predict WHAT will happen? Will you laugh if I tell you I NEVER THOUGHT this would happen? You don't know what you don't know. There is a LOT to figure out, and I am not allowed to ride for at least four weeks. My trainer is going to come and work with him, ride him, and we are going to brainstorm together things like a round/circular pen where he has more confinement. I am sure there are lots of factors involved here--maybe he wanted to get to Addie who was in the barn, maybe his saddle pinched him, maybe, maybe, maybe...but I can tell you how I'm feeling right now. And that's that I don't feel strong enough. 72 hours since the accident, so my emotions are probably still on high alert. But I am fearful. I don't want another ER visit (I can't AFFORD another ER visit), I don't want to be paralyzed, and I am a mom to two very young children who need their mother. 

Emotions aside, I promise myself and you this: 

I am not giving up. I am not throwing in the towel. I am not giving up on my childhood dream. I am going to pray around the clock and ask my prayer warriors to join me, that Paddy will calm down and get used to pasture riding. I will get strong again. I will not be sore forever or have a busted lip forever. I don't know when, but I will be able to walk without a limp. I will be able to do groundwork with him and lunge him. I will get back up again. Yesterday was the first time I spent over an hour with him since the accident. I fed him and brushed him, sponge bathed him and held the lead rope as he grazed. I hugged his face and scratched his ears, I kissed his nose and I told him that we WILL get there. 

Life lately? Not at all what I would have predicted a month ago, but I will rise.

**I want to say a huge thank you to EVERYONE who has helped during all of this. My sister-in-law Jana stopped what she was doing and came to the hospital on HER Mother's Day. Our kids went to our pastor's house and played with his children, and it was their mama's Mother's Day! The care packages, tips and tricks on healing, the supportive messages from the girls at the Horse Rescue Paddy came from, my parents who have prayed nonstop, co-workers who have been checking on me. But especially I have to thank my husband, Asa. He has been with me every step of the way. While I was on all four's in the pasture groaning, I yelled at him, "PRAY!" "I am!" he said. "PRAY OUT LOUD!" I yelled louder. So he did. Oh goodness the tears are starting to flood as I write...I couldn't have married a better or more Godly man. After seeing his wife launched in the air, he has assurred me that my dream is worth fighting for. Asa Glass, thank you. Just thank you.**

Dear Mom- A Mothers Day Tribute

Photo by: Jana Glass 

You've always said that you love me. When I was younger, I used to say, "I love you too, Mom," and continue on about my days. You dropped me off at summer camps, where I was surrounded by my friends, and I never quite comprehended the big tears that rolled down your cheeks as you quietly said your good-bye. You corrected me, discipled me, and continued to love me, even and especially when I screwed up--time, after time, after time. 

And then something happened, where it all came full circle and my entire life just made sense. Martin Luther King Day 2012. I didn't feel great, I had been super emotional, and kind of as a joke, I took a cheap pregnancy test. Lo and behold, the lines weren't anywhere near being faint and they screamed, PREGNANT, as I put my head into my hands, beginning to cry. Nathan (my oldest brother), was in the hospital and going back and forth between doing okay and then being critical. You were exhausted and tired and your heart ached as it spent hours wondering and worrying for him. I called you, but couldn't even speak... my giant sobs were uncontrollable and you knew without me ever saying. "Oh, Ashley," you sighed. 

You knew. I had been at your house a few weeks prior and you had sheepishly asked, "Are you sure you aren't pregnant, Ash?" because of my obvious hormonal disposition. But Pierson was seven months old, I hadn't yet had a cycle, and there was just no way-- but you knew. 

I've realized that this pretty much sums up the last twenty-eight years of my life. That through all of my stages and phases, you just knew. As a teeny, tiny little girl, you taught me how to love Jesus. You took me to every gymnastic class, ballet recital, piano lesson, t-ball tournament, volleyball practice and horse riding lesson-- as I shifted and sorted through my strengths and weaknesses, I believe in your heart you thought, "Ashley, I know." 

There were moments in our relationship that I thought I wanted to stay with Gram (your mom) across the field and not come home for a while. There were things I wanted to run away from, arguments I wanted to forget and situations that I felt completely embarrassed by because after all, I was a pretty dumb kid. But yet you held your head high, rolled your shoulders back, opened your arms open wide, and made the choice to love me; time, and time again. 

How many boys did I fall in love with before meeting my husband? How many times were you reluctant to let me hang out with so-and-so, and yet you prayed in your heart, 'She'll be okay.' I used to run down our dirt road; sprinting full course ahead, angry and frustrated and sad and confused--the youngest of two older brothers, I felt alone. I didn't think anyone understood me, that anyone could relate to my hopes and dreams, that no one could ever feel as much as I did. 

And then it all finally made sense. 

The day I learned I was having a daughter changed my life. For several months before, I despised being pregnant again so soon. I feared what going into the grocery store with two kids would look like, or how I would climb up our steep steps to the front door with two on my hips. And then at our gender reveal party, I bit into a pink cupcake and you were there, celebrating from afar via FaceTime with Dad and Nate and it was so clear in your eyes--you knew. 

You knew my world would be forever changed. You knew that soon I would be staring into my own baby girl's eyes, and in them, I would see us. I would forever smell your perfume, feel your back tickle quietly lulling me to sleep, feel the strength and power of your words...all from HOLDING her. It's not that I didn't feel these things when I held my son, it's just that this time, it would be different. All of those times I pushed you away and didn't want you to kiss my cheek...well, you had to have just known. That sooner or later, God would give me my own baby girl, and with that gift, I would hold even tighter to you. 

I am so sorry for the mean things I've said. For the absolute grief I put you through during my adolescent years. For scaring you with situations I put myself in, for ever lying or hurting your feelings. As I hold my baby girl, her legs sprawl out around me and she tickles my face with her still toddler hands. She holds on to me for dear life and every single night, it's, 'Mommy Put Me Down,' that she requests. Every ounce of her demands me, but little does she know, every ounce of me demands her in return. Somewhere in the middle, did you know that my heart equally needs YOU? MY mother. My flesh and blood, the heart that for so long, beat in unison with my own. 

Life scares me. Letting go of my children and watching them grow, well, it's terrifying. I don't have hardly any answers, and four years in, I am still so new to this role of Motherhood. But you are there, six hours away-- praying, thinking, texting me and calling, and from there you are smiling, because you know. 

You know that it only gets better. That my heart only loves more, and more, and more. You know that I will endure heartache that I cannot even fathom, that I will trip and fall and get back up to repeat the entire cycle all over again. And you know that you raised a daughter whose heart now beats for her own flesh and blood, but who also needs someone along the way: you. 

It may have taken longer then you could have hoped for. I may not live in the same state as you anymore, and I don't get to see you NEARLY as often as I would like. But I finally understand, I finally get it--those tears that you cried when I thought the goodbye's were so simple. The 'I love you's' that you've promised since the day I was born. It all adds up now. I am yours, and you are mine and what a blessing my title of Mother will continue to be, as it gives me glimpses into the amazing goodness that is your heart. 

I love you, Mama. Happy Mothers' Day.