it's not time yet...

Nine days ago I sat in our University bookstore and watched our pending graduates go through the process of ordering their caps and gowns. I certainly don't know as many students as I did when I worked in athletics, but I've still been fortunate enough to get to know a bunch of these seniors. Some of them have had dinner in my home or even taken care of my kiddos. I went to their games, I've written letters of recommendation for them, I've listened to their friend problems, and I generally tried to encourage them as they tackled the adventure that we like to call the "best four years of your life."

Nine days ago, people were getting anxious about COVID-19 in the United States, but it still felt a little premature. One of the graduates mentioned she was worried about graduation and I really hadn't even thought about not having graduation. The next day the NCAA canceled winter and spring championships and it felt so premature. I can't imagine what that felt like for all of those student-athletes. There were literally games in progress that everyone just walked away from... some of those student-athletes will never play their sport competitively again. Following the NCAA announcement, conferences across the country made the difficult decision to cancel spring competition. Everyone knows it was necessary, but it doesn't make it any less painful. There are student-athletes who were just shy of breaking a record. There are student-athletes who had high hopes for a Cinderella season. There are student-athletes who were dreaming of a winning season. And it's gone. My heart aches for the unfinished seasons... the unfinished dreams.

One of the more frustrating parts of this is the idea that people think the NCAA granting another year of eligibility will make everything better. Maybe that works in Division I or even Division II, particularly for scholarship student-athletes, but how many Division III student-athletes are going to come back for another year or even take off a semester and come back in the spring to finish their careers? TCNJ women's lacrosse senior may have summarized it best when she was quoted as saying, "We're not going to come back, we just can't afford to do that. A lot of us have already planned our future. We have jobs, we're moving away, whatever the case is. It's good in theory that they are giving more eligibility but it's just not an option in Division III for us.”

Again, not the NCAA's fault let alone is there any conference or institution to blame, but it just sucks and there's no bandaid to make it all better. Someday I hope we can look back and say it was all worth it. It wasn't easy last week and I'm not sure it was any easier this week, but I hope they can mourn the loss, find closure and still look back fondly on all that they accomplished as a collegiate athlete.

This week we joined a number of other Universities and made another difficult decision to cancel graduation. I know there are so many graduates who are still mourning that loss. They have worked so hard and spent a lot of money to be able to earn that opportunity. Thankfully, we have an opportunity for them to celebrate in December during our Winter Commencement, but I know that doesn't all of a sudden make it all better. I am praying that our spring grads will return to celebrate with us in December. They earned it.

I want to be able to fix this, but I think this one is beyond my area of expertise. I'm praying for all of those impacted by the pandemic no matter how trivial your impact may seem.

madi and pilot pete

There are so many important things going on in the world right now like coronavirus and a messy election, but what brings me out of my blogging coma.. the Bachelor. It's a joke to most educated, responsible people, but it has been a guilty pleasure of mine for at least the last 15 years. Most of the time it captures my attention to escape in the drama knowing "at least things aren't that bad for me." Sometimes I get caught up analyzing the way people connect (or don't) and sometimes I'm just a sucker for a good love story.

This season has been a mess. The Bachelor, Peter Weber, finished third on Hannah Brown's season of The Bachelorette, and all season long they've teased us with possible outcomes to the show that might have included Hannah B or a producer let alone any of the actual women on his season of the show. Madi Prewitt was a frontrunner this season from the beginning. She had the first one-on-one date and Peter took her to his parents' vow renewal. She stayed out of the drama with the other women on the show and seemed to be a steady constant for Peter. And then... they got to the final three which traditionally means fantasy suites which traditionally means sex.

Timeout for more background/history of the show: While many viewers and "contestants" assume sex and think everyone should expect and accept sex, it has not been a given. Nick Viall has been open about only sleeping with one woman, Hannah Brown was open about not wanting to sleep with one of her guys and Sean Lowe said in his book that he didn't sleep with any of his final three. Nearly all (if not all) leads (the bachelor or bachelorette) acknowledge the most important thing about the fantasy suite is time with each of the final three without cameras.

Essentially Madi told Peter (in not so clear terms initially) that she would have a hard time moving forward with him if he slept with the other two contestants. Some people felt like that wasn't fair of her to expect that of him. She made it the most clear to me when she asked how she was supposed to accept a proposal six days after he slept with someone else. I don't think she was slut shaming him or forcing her beliefs on him as much as she was sharing where she was in their relationship despite the fact that he was still in relationships with two other women.

Fast forward to the final two. Madi gets some grief for accepting a rose after Peter was honest with her about being "intimate" with the other two women. Did she go back on her word? Did she compromise her beliefs? I think she was still processing and needed more time. The tradition of final two is to meet the lead's family. Madi went second and she and Peter had a long conversation outside (that evidently annoyed Peter's family) while they tried to resolve some of their fantasy suite issues. While sometimes painfully drug out, I thought it was refreshing to see a couple work through conflict and while they hadn't solved all of their problems, they seemed adorably in love. Peter's family wasn't so convinced and really put them through the ringer with questions.

Presumably the next day, Peter and Madi have their final date before he has to choose. She is visibly struggling during a helicopter ride and then once they reach the perfect remote spot to chat on a blanket, she ends things with him. This is the part that really hit home for me. I have had multiple conversations with guys I loved (or thought I did) trying to break up with them knowing my faith didn't align with their faith and our lifestyles were too different. I know there are couples who have found a way to make it work, but I spent a lot of time in prior relationships trying to lessen my faith to make a relationship work... especially when everything else was working great. Looking back I know everything else wasn't working great and I shouldn't have to lessen any part of me to make a relationship work, but I feel like I've been in Madi's shoes (minus the whole tv show thing) and I felt for her as she struggled through that conversation and had to walk away.

Fast forward to the finale and Peter ended his engagement and Chris Harrison filled in Madi. Madi admitted she wasn't over Peter and flew out to LA to confess her feelings for him. It seemed like a happy reunion, but they had an uphill battle ahead. On stage, there was still a lot of uncertainty and they seemed a little distant. Peter's family was not supportive (to say the least) and there was a part of me that wanted them to make it to spite his family. I kept hoping Peter would come to his senses and find his own passion for faith like Madi, but that was not to be as a few days later they announced they were going their separate ways.

Why do I feel the need to recap the last couple of weeks of The Bachelor when you could have just watched it yourself or read your own recap on any number of websites? I'm not exactly sure, other than it was so eerily familiar while still feeling like a lifetime ago. I'm so grateful for God's steadfastness to help me walk away from those relationships... sometimes with some help from the guy... so that I could sit here years later with an amazing husband and (almost) three (usually) adorable kiddos. It doesn't always feel worth it in the moment, but it really is.

*Clarifying to say not every prior relationship falls into this category. I certainly tried the alternative thinking if I just found a Godly man, that God would bless that relationship and that certainly doesn't always work either!

february 22...

A year ago I was sleeping.. or attempting to sleep in a hospital room. Lucas Barrett was just over 12 hours old and even though it was my second son, I was just as overwhelmed and just as in love. The worst part was not getting to share everything with Britt since he couldn’t come to the hospital during flu season. 

My c-section was much different this time around. Britt came after more than 24 hours of contractions and two hours of pushing. I was wheeled into the operating room on a bed and tossed onto the operating table. This time I walked in and plopped myself onto the table. It was so surreal that I had been there (or an operating room nearby) less than two years earlier and everything felt so different. I was so grateful to have my favorite anesthesiologist to talk me through the surgery. Of course she told me they made the incision and Steve wasn’t in the room yet. I wasn’t worried about him missing anything as much as I worried he would see more than he wanted to walking into the room. After Lucas was born, it felt like forever to hear him cry and then it felt like forever for him to stop crying. Steve told me a friend from church was in the room and I just knew her as a nice doctor.. leaving me terrified something was wrong. Thankfully she checked everything and he was healthy... a healthy 8 lbs 8 oz for being born six days early. 

I still had insecurities with Lucas and I still fumbled my way through or rather active tense fumbling. It absolutely gets easier the second time around when you know a little more what to expect, but you also really forget things.. even if you just did it two years ago. 

I am so proud of us for getting through the last year. Two boys two and under is not easy, but so worth it. 

at the wire...

It's been far... far... too long, but I just realized I almost let 2018 go without a blog. While that probably explains a lot about the year, I had to say something. I'm stealing a post from Jen Hatmaker's instagram today. We had some lows this year for sure, but here are some highs... 

1. Best thing that happened this year: 

We stuck together. When things get tough, it's easy to run, but we stuck together. Steve and I didn't have a ton of time together pre-wedding to work through conflict or practice working together so it's definitely been a "learn as you go" experience. We're still learning, but every time we get a little better, I'm so grateful. 

2. Best person you met this year: 

Lucas Barrett. Lucas was born February 22 and we've spent the last 10 months just soaking up every minute with him. He has been our inquisitive one. We have to work a lot harder to get him to smile, but when he starts to cackle, it's that much more worth it. Lucas was such a low maintenance baby and it was like he knew he needed to cut us some slack so we could spend more time with Britt. 

3. Best thing you pulled off this year: 

Others may disagree, but somehow I balanced the whole "working mom" thing. It's far from perfect, but I pulled it off. 

a working mom...

Britt is great at alumni affairs

I'm not sure I really comprehended the guilt moms face until I became one. I feel like I spent plenty of time around moms beforehand and I knew about all the debates between natural birth vs. everything else and breastfeeding vs. formula and disposable diapers vs. cloth and chemicals vs. natural. I felt like I had done my research and made some decisions while deciding to play the others by ear. Social media allows people to share their opinion freely so you can usually tell where people fit in the debates. Even if they're not posting their opinion directly, they're sharing others' opinions or at least liking others' posts about it.

I know I didn't prepare myself for the shame that can tie itself to the guilt. I nursed Britt exclusively at first. I felt like that's all I did and at eight weeks and after way too many weight checks, he was still not gaining weight like he should so our pediatrician suggested supplementing. She said I took it better than she thought I would, but there was such relief to have a medical professional tell me Britt needed formula. Surely no one could look down on me for giving Britt formula if my doctor told me I had to! There was still a part of me that wanted a doctor's note or something as I hid the formula when we were out in public.. hoping people would think it was some of my milk in the bottle.

I never thought I would care about the stay at home vs. working mom debate. My best friend is a stay at home mom while my mom and sisters are working moms. I've just never seen myself as a stay at home mom... even when I dreamt of having 12 kids. In reality, it's unlikely anyone can have 12 kids and afford the childcare, but I've always assumed I would work. And then people started asking questions. Are you going back to work? How long is your maternity leave? You're going back already? Who is taking care of Britt? You're taking him to a daycare? Most of it was probably innocent and not nearly as judgy as it sounded in my whacked out postpartum hormone head, but I started feeling guilty.

I went back to work "part-time" when Britt was just over six weeks old. My boss was so flexible and offered to let me stay home longer and I burst into tears at the thought of it. I needed to come back to work, and yet I felt so guilty for wanting to work. I didn't have enough sick time or vacation time to get all six weeks paid leave. Thankfully I had short-term disability to help make up some of the difference and I used financial need to justify my quick return, but in reality I needed an outlet. I think I'm a better mom when I go to work, and yet I hate when I miss things because I "have" to work. I'm fortunate to have a job where I can bring Britt to some of our events. He has traveled to Orlando and Nashville for work and I've had college students babysit him while I run to a meeting real quick or try to pull off a successful event. There is a sense of relief when I drop off Britt at daycare and I have even more relief when I get home from work and I get to see his smile when I walk in the door. I have to remind myself that I can love Britt and still enjoy work.

I keep telling myself that being a working mom is making him more adaptable... that daycare is making his immune system stronger... that he has good social skills, but I never want to take away from the moms who stay at home. Sometimes we try to make ourselves feel better and end up making other people feel like crap... unintentionally of course. My justification could come off as if my son of a working mom will be smarter or more socialized than the son of a stay at home mom. Or maybe your son of a stay at home mom will be smarter because you never left his side and taught him how to read at nine months. Maybe we just need thicker skin... or less guilt.

Dear Britt...

Dear Britt,

Your dad and I had a dedication for you at church this morning. Some babies are baptized, but your dad and I don't believe that baptism really does anything for you as a baby. (Even as an adult, it's a symbol and one we both took part in, but it didn't save us.) Instead of a baptism this morning, we had a time where we dedicated ourselves and our home to God. We prayed that we could nurture and love you toward making your own decision to follow Christ someday. The church committed to supporting us along the way. If you're reading this, I hope it means you have found your way to Him.

I've been praying for you for a long time.. before you were even born. I've prayed you would be healthy and kind and maybe a little athletic.. but even more so I've prayed you would see how much you need God. Sometimes it's hard for "good" people to understand why they need God. And sometimes when you grow up in church, it becomes more of a habit or even something that your family does, but I'm praying you find a faith that is all your own.

No matter what, please know you are loved and I am so proud of you. Choosing Christ.. choosing life.. it's not always the most popular thing or the easiest thing, but it's what I want most for you. Even thinking about our time this morning praying for you, I tear up thinking about what hard decisions you may have to make and I wish I could always be there to protect you, but I can't. You'll grow up and mature and probably push and pull a little to do more on your own before I'm ready but I promise I'll try. I'll try to find that balance between what you want and what you need.. the balance between what I want and what you need.

You have brought so much joy into our lives and it's only been six months. I can't wait to watch you grow up and I just feel privileged to know I'm your mom. Your dad and I are praying for you Britt... every day.

Love,
Mom

welcome Britt..

There's no way to predict how labor and delivery will go and I'm so glad I didn't even try. There are some women who go to the hospital with a pretty detailed birth plan. I went empty handed just hoping to leave with a baby. As much of a planner I am, I tried not to plan too much throughout my pregnancy.

Britt was due Monday, the 21st, but I went to work with no signs of the stubborn bugger. I went to the doctor the next day and after scheduling an induction for the 28th-29th, I marched 20 flights of stairs to help push things along, wrote a blog, and then resigned myself to having a baby on the 29th. My parents decided to still come down the next day and my aunt and little sister were coming down for Easter weekend so I was more worried about entertaining guests and seeing everyone. 

Of course as soon as I let go of the due date, I woke up Wednesday morning with contractions. I tried to wait them out for awhile before waking up Steve. They were about 5-7 minutes apart, but still not very consistent. Steve was not too concerned since the doctor talked about going to the hospital at five minutes, and he thought we were waiting for them to be five minutes long! Thank goodness that's something we don't have to worry about! 

Steve went ahead and got ready for work, but decided not to go just yet. I wanted to call the doctor at 8 and see if we could go in and at least get checked. At 8 they were still inconsistent so we went for a walk. We eventually went to the doctor and he said I was only at 2-3 centimeters, so he did a membrane sweep and sent us on our way. I was optimistic that might get things moving so we went to the mall for lunch and walked some more. We gave up after awhile and went home to wait for my parents to get here. My mom and I went for a walk and then they took us to dinner at Outback. I could feel the contractions getting more intense and by 8:30 I was convinced I had to be more dilated... they were consistently 3-5 minutes apart. I called the doctor's office and they had my doctor call me, but knowing this was my first he encouraged me to stay home for at least another hour. I didn't know if I could make it that long, but we left around 9:30 and made our way to the hospital... only to find out I was still only 2-3 centimeters. I had no desire to go home and thankfully they told me they'd hold a bed for me if I would walk the hospital for two hours. So for two hours Steve and I wasn't walking through them, but really exhaustion was the overwhelming feeling. I had been awake since 4 am so walking from 11 pm to 1 am was not exactly what I wanted to be doing. 

They checked me again and even though I was barely at 4 cm, if that, they said they'd admit me and I could've cried from relief. They eventually gave me some pain medicine. I tried sleeping between contractions, but evidently I wasn't very pleasant. At some point they gave me pitocin and an epidural and Steve claims my demeanor changed immediately. I am now a huge fan of epidurals. I know many women survived childbirth without epidurals, but now that we have such fine drugs, I have no desire to be a hero. Drugs to the rescue. 

Finally somewhere around 10 am or so, I reached 10 cm and got to push. I pushed for an hour and I could tell from the look on my nurse's face that we weren't making much progress. They gave me a break and the doctor suggested drawing back the epidural some so I could feel the contractions. The anesthesiologist came in and thankfully I knew her from working on the Play 4Kay committee at Methodist. She made a comment about doctors who want her to draw the drugs back and then they decide to go with a c-section and she has to give more drugs, but "don't worry that won't happen to you!" When she left I told Steve that made me a little nervous and he agreed. Everyone came back in and we started the pushing process again. They could see Britt's head and let us know he had a ton of hair, but he was still not making his entrance. After the second hour, my doctor said I could push for another hour, but he really felt like we were dealing with a big kid and wasn't convinced he was going to budge so he gave me the option of a c-section. 

After laboring for more than 30 hours, I was grateful for him giving me the option. I asked Steve if he cared and then told the doctor to sign me up for the c-section. I know there are some people who criticize c-sections for not being "real" birth... especially since mine was elective even if the doctor suggested it. But I couldn't disagree more... I still feel a bit of a twinge any time someone hears I delivered via c-section and they give me the judgy look. Especially when I tell them the doctor felt he was too big and then I tell them he weighed 9 lb 1 oz and they make sure to let me know they birthed an 11 pound baby vaginally without an epidural. And then I remind myself to get a grip and not let others decide how I should feel about my birthing experience. 

Back to Britt... once we opted for the c-section, things moved quickly. Someone took Steve to get him ready and they wheeled me to the operating room. (By the way... moving me from one bed to the other with my dead legs was very comical!) They warned me I might puke and I absolutely yakked all over myself... it was glamorous and I'm just sorry Steve missed it. Once everyone made it to the operating room, I tried not to pay attention to what was happening behind the curtain. I eventually heard someone say something about a boy and then I heard Britt cry. It was the most beautiful cry I've ever heard. It is hard to feel so helpless while your baby is crying and you're tied to an operating table, but they cleaned him up and gave him to Steve so he could bring him to me. I couldn't hold him, but we had some cheek to cheek bonding. I hadn't cried all day, but knowing he was finally here made me weep.

It's hard to put into words what it's like to meet your child. There's so much anticipation... years and years of waiting not to mention the 40 plus weeks of pregnancy. There are so many children born every day, sometimes we blow past the miracle of life, but I had to pause and think about this kid (that I would eventually get to hold in recovery) that was the perfect combination of me and Steve and had grown inside my body... Every time I hold him to my chest, Steve and I look at how long he is and can't get over the fact that he was all balled up inside of me.

I don't think birthing a child makes a woman any more woman than she already was, but it has made me more grateful to be a woman. I'm more appreciative of my mom popping out my 9 lb 6 oz self like a boss. I'm more in awe of how God uses us to multiply His creation. I'm more in love with my husband who continues to spoil me while being the best dad to Britt. I know Britt will continue to challenge us, but I hope the challenges keep us chasing after God, bringing us closer to each other.

P.S. I've had a few people ask us about Britt's name. The Dockery family has a tradition of using Steve/Steven and the mother's maiden name. Steve is Steven Barrett and Britt is Steven Britt. I wanted to avoid the confusion of two Steve's so we call him Britt although I still get confused when we get mail for Steven B. Dockery.