It Changed Me...

Palliative care nurses and doctors have a heavy job.  A job I know for SURE I wouldn't be able to handle.  I know this because being a pseudo palliative care nurse for 10 days nearly broke me 3 years ago.  I have been reluctant to share any of this with any great detail, but it's a life event that truly changed me...

3 years ago we started getting word that Bernice's cancer had returned and it was worse than before.  To give you some perspective on that, when she was diagnosed in 2012, her CA125 (the blood marker for ovarian cancer) was around 3,000 (normal is under 20).  After that diagnosis she had 8 organs removed and part of another.  Obviously it was serious.  The return of her tumors in April/May of 2016 had her CA125 markers at well over 5,000.  The poor woman was in intense pain...she could hardly sit or walk without being in pain, and her hemoglobin was so darn low that she had basically no energy.  And while she carried herself with such grace and poise, she began allowing me to see her more and more vulnerable.  With each passing day in the month of May she would allow herself to hand over more and more of her dignity and modesty to me.  It was a charge I did not take lightly.  Bernice was the most modest and demure woman I've ever known...

Those last 10 days held so much.  For every painful experience, there is an equally meaningful beautiful experience.  It's the beautiful parts of it that I conjure up when the painful parts start to hurt again.  Bernice was a breast cancer survivor many years before I knew her and then she endured this monstrously intense surgery to remove her ovarian cancer tumors years later.  The two were totally unrelated.  But her modesty, though it was a part of her overt personality, came a lot from the fact that her poor little body had been all but mutilated.  A scar from below her breast bone to below her belly button, scars from her post surgery drains, a scar from her port, scars from her mastectomy and reconstructive surgery.  She kept it all under wraps.  But when she could no longer get dressed without help or bathe without help, she let me help her.  And oh how my heart broke to see what she had been put through.  To see those purple scars that put faces to the ugly reality of her battles with cancer.  It still breaks my heart when I think about it...

Cancer tried to take her dignity, but I fought tooth and nail to try and preserve it through those final days.  I knew it meant so much to her.  She never wanted to be "sick".  I gave her the last bath she ever took.  I convinced her that she would rest so much easier if she took a hot shower.  But she couldn't walk to the bathroom.  She couldn't stand in the shower.  She couldn't even truly sit in the shower seat without help because she was in so much pain.  So I stepped into that shower with her.  I grabbed the gooseneck shower head that I had bought for her at the local medical supply store, I put her arms around my neck and leaned her body against mine, and I ran the warm water over her back.  I washed her body with sweet smelling soap and I told her how beautiful she was because I knew how much she was sacrificing to let me see her like that.  And she truly was beautiful.  Scars and all.  She apologized over and over to me and to Brenda.  And I told her over and over again what an honor it was for us to have the privilege of caring for her.  It was one of the many moments over those last days that pain and beauty intermingled.  Where the veil between us and the Father began growing ever thinner...

On her final day I immediately went to her bedside when I woke up at 7:00 as had become my routine over those last several days.  I would give her her medications and give her a Tramidol for pain (for the record a Tramidol is basically Ibuprofen...the woman was managing the pain of crippling metastatic cancer with little more than an over the counter medication...).  She had a special way of swallowing her pills.  She had become an expert at downing meds over her lifetime because she had been in an out of renal illness most of her life starting at a very young age.  But that morning, she would open her mouth for me to give her a medication and then forget the rest of her routine.  So I would scrape out the pill halfway dissolved and try again with a new pill.  After several attempts, I knew it just wasn't going to happen.  So I forwent her antibiotic, her steroid, and a couple of other meds she was taking, and I crushed up her Tramidol and tried to feed it to her blended with a bite of yogurt (she hated yogurt but it was all I had).  I knew if I didn't get that into her she was going to be in excruciating pain.  She begrudgingly swallowed that bite of yogurt and was grouchy at me for feeding it to her.  That was ok.  I just needed *her* to be ok...

She spent most of that day completely unconscious.  She would offer an involuntary sideways smile or maybe a nod here and there, but mostly she was asleep.  Her sweet friend Brenda came over in the afternoon to help me change her sheets after I had cleaned her up that morning.  Bernice couldn't even roll over.  She had no more strength.  Before that day she could wrap her arms around my neck and I could lift her into a sitting position and help her swing around to the side of the bed.  That day, she didn't have the strength to even lift her arms to my shoulders.  So I scooped her up like a child and used every ounce of my strength to move her and try not to hurt her so that we could change her sheets and her bed pads and then her clothes.  All of this done without her ever leaving the bed.  She groaned in pain.  She cried out.  It broke my heart.  I tried to soothe her by telling her she was beautiful, she was so loved, she was strong...I tried to keep her calm.  But the reality of the end being near was more and more real with every click of that minute hand on the clock.  We all knew it.  Brenda whisked away bed linens and clothes and I rubbed Bernice's feet with Midnight Path lotion.  I told her that Jesus loved her and I literally said "Bernice when you see Him, RUN to Him!  We will be just fine.  Everyone is taken care of.  But if you see your Jesus you run and you don't look back..."  I certainly didn't want her to leave but I couldn't watch her try to stay any longer...

When she settled back into unconsciousness and I knelt by her bedside and I wept over her.  I cried out for God to take her.  I'm not sure I've ever prayed a more conflicted prayer in my life.  This woman who I adored was leaving this world.  I was hours away from living in a world where she no longer existed.  It tore my soul to even consider not having her with me anymore.  But my God how I wanted her to be freed from her pain and suffering.  I wanted her to get her just reward.  I truly NEEDED her to hear her Lord tell her "Well done my sweet Bernice.  Enter into paradise.  You've fought your fight and you've finished your course."  I needed her to find rest...

Hours later she was unsettled.  I tried to *do* things.  I tried changing her bed pads again, but I couldn't do it without Jonathan's help.  We tag teamed and tried to lift and shift her.  It pained us both to see her body so ravaged.  She had the beginnings of bed sores.  I called her hospice nurse Blanca asking what in the world I could do...I told her that "the life was literally pouring out of her".  It was.  It was practically spiraling out of her body and out of her eyes.  At some point Jonathan crawled up in bed next to her and held her hands.  He called her Mommy.  He told her it was ok to go.  He soothed her with his sweet low hushed tones in her ears.  But when the time came, nobody had the remedy for her agitation.  We had pumped her with all the morphine she would take. All the Ativan she could take.  But she was leaving...her body was dying...and all we could do was look on and try to tell her that she was beautiful.  She was strong.  She was loved.  She cried out, she gasped, she groaned, and then she was still...and then she took her last breath.  And it was done.  And yet...there was overwhelming peace...

I've wondered if maybe I lost a little of my mind in those moments, because the only thing I could do was smile when I knew she was free of that body.  I should have been distraught, but I wasn't.  I was relieved for her.  And I just couldn't help but think that at that very moment she was running headlong into the arms of her Jesus and He was smiling ear to ear to welcome her Home.  I brought the box that she had asked me to open over to the bed.  She specifically had asked me to open it when she was gone.  I knew there was joy in that box.  Remnants of our sweet Bernice.  And oh how I wanted to do something...anything...to make it feel like *she* was still sitting in that room with us.  Sometimes I regret opening that box so soon...the perfectionist people pleaser in me will always second guess whether every one of us in that room was ready to hear those words.  Maybe I jumped the gun. Maybe I overstepped my place.  Or maybe it all really doesn't matter anyway.  Ultimately she had planned the most beautiful, personal, moving service of her memorial and it was a true joy to memorialize her the way she wanted to be remembered...

So I say all of that to say that that experience nearly broke me.  It came very close.  Ultimately it didn't break me...but it changed me.  It gave me the experience I needed to be able to minister to my sweet sister friend Rachel when her mother passed away 2 months later, to my sweet sister friend Sara who lost her mother-in-law just after the New Year.  I was able to offer my sweet Mimol help in the early stages of her palliative care and it didn't scare me.  I was able to help fortify my mother during the loss of her own mother.  It taught me the value of a moment...

I will never be the same.  In challenging ways but in far more beautiful ways.  God picked up my broken pieces and He's putting them back together piece by piece and making something even more beautiful with the mess.  I am stronger.  I am more vulnerable.  I am bolder.  I am more easily scared.  I am fortified.  But I cry much more easily.  I am more tenderhearted.  I am also more guarded.  I've seen true peace.  I've felt the presence of God in such a real way that I felt I could have just about reached out and touched Him.  In a time in my life that you'd think I would feel far from the Lord...I was losing this woman who I not only adored but whom I truly needed in my life...but instead I felt Him closer than a brother.  Beside me, in front of me, behind me, above me, within me.  And so I am forever changed because He tore that veil between us in those moments.  He showed up for me.  And He filled me with His peace, His comfort, His joy.  I will never be the woman I was before May of 2016.  I am new.  And I'm ok with that...

A Willingness to Be Still

Merry Christmas Eve my friends!  As has become tradition over these last 7 years, I am sitting down to write a post reflecting on Christmas. Each year my perspective has been different. 365 days go by and somehow life seems to shift so immensely that our worlds look nearly unrecognizable one year to the next. This year has been unique. Welcoming TWINS, Greysen entering PreK, Jonathan still in hot pursuit of his career goals, and me being a wife, Mommy, and now the interim children’s minister at our church. You could never have convinced me this time last year that this is what December 24th, 2019 was going to look like. Good, bad, and everything in between, God has just so perfectly orchestrated our lives and Jonathan and I both feel strongly that we are right where we are supposed to be right now. Even though sometimes it feels like a big sloppy mess of chaos. Well let’s be honest...MOST of the time is feels like a big sloppy mess of chaos.  Somehow in the midst of the crazy, though, the Lord quietly speaks peace and comfort over us. He constantly reminds us that all is well. Even when we feel like things are FAR from well...

You would think that two new babies at once would bear  the theme of chaos. Exhaustion maybe. Confusion. Too much. But my how our Lord has flipped that script!  What has He taught me this year?  What word does He keep repeating to me?

“Rachel...be willing to be STILL.”

Still??  Really God?? But how...and WHY??

I think the Christmas story actually lends itself to this very concept. God incarnated Himself as a little baby. Born to a simple girl in a “mean estate”. They didn’t have an endless string of visitors (don’t let your mainstream manger scene fool you!). Aside from the angels appearing to the shepherds, there was no pomp and circumstance. There was no huge sweeping fanfare. Everything was STILL...

God is challenging me right now. He’s challenging me to just stop and let Him be in control. That is SUCH a hard thing to do. But if I say I trust Him. If I say I believe that He says what He means and that He does what He says He’ll do, then my only response is to let go of my control. To be STILL. To soak in HIM...

If I were Mary and I knew the gravity of the life I held in my arms the night Jesus was born, that would have been my response too. I wouldn’t even want to let my mind wander to what might lie ahead. Don’t get it twisted. Mary was a good Jew...she knew the prophesies. And if she believed Gabriel when he told her who she was carrying, then she knew, at least on some level, what was coming. But she “stored those things in her mind”. She put them aside in favor of soaking up JESUS in the moment. She embraced the STILLNESS.  And she believe God would be faithful...

Wasn’t He?  Isn’t He?  Won’t He be?

Where is our willingness to be STILL?  What if the action God wants from us is to just be quiet and get out of His way so He can show off??

We serve a BIG God who came to earth to participate in humanity alongside us. He came in the STILLNESS. In the quietness of a lowly stable. Thats where we meet the Savior of Humanity!  His debut was quiet and unassuming. Magnifying relationship and intimacy. Showcasing the way He wants us to find Him every time we search....

May your Christmas be filled with joy and laughter and excitement. But may it be filled equally if not more so with STILLNESS. And may you meet your Savior within that relational intimacy where He makes His very REAL presence known!

Merry Christmas y’all!

Someone Needs Your Story...

Here we find ourselves yet again.  Going through yet another residency match cycle.  A position we never in a million years would have thought would be a part of our story.  But here we are!  We could be resentful.  We could be just over it completely.  We do feel slightly defeated after all these years of trying to break this dang glass ceiling, but nevertheless...we are persisting!  Through all of these disappointments and so much confusion and rejection after rejection, we have chosen not to throw in the towel, but to believe that there is a greater overarching plan for our lives, for Jonathan's career, and our charge is to just keep pressing forward.  And so we do!  When we talk about our situation, we often remind each other that ultimately our story is being written.  No good story started out great, had no hiccups, and ended beautifully with no struggle. Nobody would ever invest the time to read a story like that! So here's a little of our story...

Back in 2015 we thought we were headed straight for the big finish line in the most epic way possible.  We were expecting our first baby after years of infertility.  The Lord had finally provided the time and the finances to be able to go through IVF, and so we tackled that in 2014 and we were ready to meet our little man in April.  Greysen Neil arrived healthy on April 28th, 2015.  Jonathan had all but aced Step 1 and rounded out basic sciences with flying colors.  We cruised through the summer and fall enjoying our sweet new baby, and we were ready for 2016 to be another epic year for the Womacks since Jonathan was going to be finishing clinicals (he was still maintaining that stellar GPA) and apply for residency that fall.  And then one by one the pieces of our little tower of success started kind of coming undone...

In March we found out that Charlie, Jonathan's dad, was going to have to have kidney surgery to remove a tumor that had been found there.  Miraculously, Jonathan had the month of March off of clinicals, so we were able to be there to support Charlie and Bernice through that.  While we were there, Bernice shared with me in confidence that she had begun having symptoms of her cancer returning (she had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer in July of 2012 mere days before Jonathan and I were to be moving to the Caribbean for him to start medical school).  I tried to encourage her by reminding her how well she had responded to treatment before.  While it scared me, my heart wouldn't let me accept that she was having a true relapse of her tumors.  Charlie's surgery went fine and he recovered well at home...no cancer for him! But as the story goes with medical school, we had to ship out to Maryland to continue Jonathan's clinical rotations up there.  While we were there, more testing and appointments with Bernice ultimately led to a grim prognosis.  She wasn't responding well to treatments and her body wasn't strong enough to endure the heavy hitting medicine that would have been required to eradicate the cancer from her body again.  So we came home in May (again...the Lord graciously provided us another month off of clinicals for the month of May, but we had no idea how much we would need it). We hadn't accepted yet that we had arrived at the awful dead end of cancer where the choice is to either end treatments completely, or try some hail Mary's that might end her life anyway because of their toxicity.  So we came home and in transit from Baltimore learned that Jonathan's grandfather, his last remaining grandparent, had unexpectedly passed away from heart failure.  So we started our trip home with a funeral...

Fast forward about 2 weeks, and we were walking the road of palliative care for Bernice.  Our heads spinning, our hearts broken...but there we were.  Seeing his mama decline like that really just crushed Jonathan.  How could it not??  She died holding his hands.  We buried her on our 9th wedding anniversary, June 2, 2016, and Jonathan had to get back to Maryland to continue his clinicals on June 4th.  Greysen and I stayed behind in OKC to help ease some transitions for Charlie, so Jonathan was by himself in a strange place studying for board exams and getting up and going to work every morning alone.  When the fall rolled around, I pushed him to go ahead and take the board exam he had been postponing.  It's something I'll always feel guilty for doing.  He is SUCH an incredibly smart man...a VERY studious person.  He had done SO well on Step 1. But he knew himself and he didn't feel ready.  But he took that stupid board exam 3 months after losing his mother and his grandfather less than 30 days apart.  And not surprisingly it did not turn out well for him.  It's so incongruent with the rest of his application...it's not indicative of his propensity to be an amazing physician...it's only indicative of the fact that he endured something completely out of the ordinary right smack dab in the middle of medical school...

So Cycle #1 we got 5 interviews for residency, and we didn't get his passing board scores until exactly 24 hours AFTER the deadline to submit his rank order list.  We had to withdraw.  Cycle #2 the system changed up the process by which programs gain access to his USMLE transcripts and we didn't get the memo until it was too late. No interviews...we had to withdraw.  Cycle #3 he snagged a great interview at a great program here in Oklahoma.  The interview went amazingly well and we felt like it was a lock. And then 48 hours before rank order submission opened, he got an email from that program director saying that the funding for his program was being pulled and the program was no longer able to participate in the match.  So we went through the match knowing we would have to SOAP (throwing his hat in the ring for ANY program left unmatched).  Then the ERAS system went straight BONKERS and even the SOAP was a disaster.  Out of the hundreds of residents participating, less than 30 matched through SOAP.  So we didn't match...again...

Through all these disappointments, God has been gracious enough to show us WHILE we were going through it where He truly wanted us to be.  The first cycle we needed each other instead of a residency.  We were still healing from losing Bernice and Tommie, and then we lost my sweet Mimol and miscarried our Soutine in August of that year.  The second cycle started with loss which was hard, but ultimately it was clear that the Lord wanted us firmly planted at our church to be a part of the rebuilding foundation.  So we dug in there.  The third cycle I was pregnant with twins.  God wanted me among my Village and He wanted Jonathan by my side.  SO much happened between applications and the official "no go"...my head spins just thinking about it...

So here we are.  Cycle #4.  We are leaving no stone unturned.  We are leaning HARD into God's will for our lives.  Believing that He finishes what He starts.  We are limping and beaten down...we are better for the journey we've been on, but our tenacity has begun to wane a bit.  Jonathan is called to be a physician.  I know this beyond a shadow of a doubt and so does he.  But OH how I pray that this is seen through to fruition.  He deserves it.  WE deserve it.  Our family deserves it.  Sometimes I find myself thinking "What in the WORLD do we need to do? Where are we going wrong??"  And there are no clear answers.  Applicants with WAY less desirable applications are matching and we aren't.  It just flat doesn't make sense.  So we only have to believe that the reason it's not happened for us yet is because it's part of the story we are writing.  The epic saga of Rachel and Jonathan Womack.  Our zany adventures, our misadventures, our triumphs, our trials.  This has been SUCH a long chapter filled with LOTS of plot twists...

Looking at our three beautiful boys helps us keep things in perspective.  There was a time we thought we might never get to have babies, and now here they are.  Happy healthy and so stinkin gorgeous I have to pinch myself.  So there was a time we thought maybe this residency thing wouldn't happen for us...and we are ready to say "Here it is!  And it's so stinkin amazing we have to pinch ourselves!"  I hope you'll join us in hope and prayer and perseverance as we press on toward this prize.  We're so close we can taste it...

Prince of Peace: Commander of my Quiet

And yet another year passes.  Time and life are so funny, aren't they?  I can't believe it is already time for me to write my annual Christmas Eve post again.  As is true at the end of every year, I can say that 2018 has come with many surprises, overwhelming blessings, challenges, lessons, and growth.  Even at 34 years old, the Lord still continually teaches me things.  He is faithful to illuminate the truth about Himself as well as the truth about who *I* am in Him...

I usually begin around Thanksgiving thinking about how I will wrap up the year in my Christmas Eve post, and this year was no different.  I began mulling over the year and thinking about what next year will bring.  I considered the two beautiful lives growing in my belly, the handsome little 3 year old who never ceases to make my heart soar, my faithful, nurturing, and protective husband, our family, our church, our friends.  So many things to be thankful and grateful for.  I also considered the ways this year has challenged us.  A year spent without my sweet Mimol in it, the loss of sweet friends and our faithful pup Matilda, the overwhelming heartache of infertility, the marathon challenge of IVF, the work I've done in counseling, the ever present (yet quickly coming to an end in 2019) "loose ends" of medical school, financial challenges, and the inevitable growing pains of "adulting" and parenthood.  Through the final weeks of this year...even while considering all of those things...the Lord has continually given me a word to live by.  He keeps putting it on my heart, in the mouths of those around me, illuminating it in His Word...

That word is PEACE...

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.  I do not give to you as the world gives.  Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid..." John 14:27

"For to us a child is born, unto us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders.  And He will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace..." Isaiah 9:6

"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace.  In this world you will have trouble.  But take heart!  I have overcome the world..." John 16:33

"The mind governed by the flesh is death, but the mind governed by the Spirit is life and peace..." Romans 8:6

"If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone..." Romans 12:18

"So then let us do all we can to live in peace and let us work hard to build each other up..." Romans 14:19

Over, and over, and over again...even while these final 5-6 weeks of 2018 have been challenging in so many ways...God has reiterated PEACE.  He has directed me to pursue it...literally RUN AFTER IT.  It is so easy, especially in the world we live in, to get wrapped up in the turmoil of life.  It's easy to let things like stress and grief and anger and uncertainty rule your mind.  It's easy to let your emotions lead your actions and reactions and forget the deep seated and everlasting Wellspring of Peace that exists in all who know Him.  Even in the midst of confusion and uncertainty...HIS PEACE IS CONSTANT.  Even when the world slaps us in the face with things less than desirable...HIS PEACE IS CONSTANT. Even when it feels like everything is falling apart...HIS PEACE IS CONSTANT...

Prince of Peace.  In my world right now, that name for Jesus translates to the Commander of my Quiet.  My safe place.  The person of Jesus Christ, who is alive and well in my life, commands the quiet of my soul, of my mind, of my heart.  He oversees it.  He directs it.  And his entrance into this world as a baby depicts that about His nature...

He didn't come as a ruling, reigning king draped in expensive robes and sitting on a gold encrusted throne.  He didn't come and force everyone to bow to Him.  He came as a helpless baby.  Born to a young mother, a peace seeking father, in a crude stable, without any special treatment.  Why??  He certainly had the power to have incarnated Himself however he chose.  Why did he choose this mode of arrival?  What did He hope to communicate through His birth?

My answer to that question today is that I believe He wanted his entrance to this world to echo PEACE.  To echo QUIET.  To echo SIMPLICITY.  To echo RELATIONSHIP.  To echo STRENGTH IN VULNERABILITY.  "I do not give as the world gives..."  What does this say about his birth?  That He wanted us to SEEK Him.  He wasn't going to come even as Israel was expecting Him to.  He wanted us to pursue His Peace, His Quiet, His Simplicity, a Relationship with Him, and His Strength even in His Vulnerability as a newborn baby.  He provides it as a perfect gift we do not need to earn...however we MUST SEEK IT OUT.  The easy thing to do is to live in AND of this world.  To be ruled by our "flesh".  The hard thing to do...the challenge of our faith...is the pursuit of the Spirit in a world that has forgotten who He is.  Where some don't even recognize that He's walked this earth and already conquered all the darkness within it.  In a world where His final victory is downplayed...mocked even.  It is EASY to operate as though He did not "leave His peace with us".  But what a treasure when we can actively seek and find that Wellspring of Peace...that Daystar...that Ever Present Help in Times of Trouble...

He is faithful.  He is constant.  He doesn't change with the ebb and flow of our circumstances.  He doesn't operate on our plane (thank God!).  He is above all things, beyond all things..BETTER THAN ALL THINGS!  And through His birth, life, death, and resurrection, He has made Himself AVAILABLE to us always.  Reachable.  Relatable.  He knows MY name.  He knows who *I* am.  And He loves me ALWAYS.  Even (and maybe especially) when I don't feel all that lovable.  I am priceless.  Even (and maybe especially) when other people communicate that I'm disposable.  I am royalty.  Even (and maybe especially) when I think I'm not worth the dirt I walk on.  Because I am the daughter of a KING...

A King who came to this earth as a baby, walked this earth as a blameless man, hung on a cross for the sins of this world, and rose again in PERFECTION...all because I MATTERED TO HIM.  *You* mattered to Him too!  You are important, loved, priceless, and worthy of love and sacrifice!

This Christmas, I pray you will PURSUE His Perfect Peace.  Allow Him to Command your Quiet.  Let Him guide you into this New Year with a renewed since of your own worth to Him...

He came as a baby, but He will return as our Conquering King.  Let Him be that Conquering King in your heart, mind, and soul NOW!  Merry Christmas my friends.  JESUS is the reason for the season!

What I Will Teach My Boys...

I hate politics on social media.  Scratch that...I just hate politics in general.  I hate how tragic things in this country happen and immediately the media draws a line in the sand for us to get on one side or the other of an issue.  Are you a Kavanaugh supporter or a Blasey-Ford supporter?  Are you an anti-semetic gun wielding hate-filled Republican or are you a snowflake bleeding heart idiot Democrat?  Are you a racist?  Are you a feminist?  Are you...fill in the blanks...

These things disturb me as a human being trying to navigate this world, but as a Mommy, they disturb me even more.  I am literally scared of what our world is going to look like in a few years when my boys are all in school.  When they're trying to navigate the confusing waters of puberty and budding sexuality and social issues.  When they're trying to find their own identity.  Childhood is hard, but I firmly believe childhood is HARDER for kids these days and it seems it will only get harder for the generations to come.  I worry about the safety of my children at school.  I worry about their delicate psyches in a world that forces them to "identify" themselves as solidly one thing or the other before their little brains are even capable of making long term, life altering/determining decisions like that.  So I'm left pondering how in the world will I protect my sons from getting battered by life without putting them in a bubble and never letting them out of my sight?

First and foremost, Jonathan and I have made the solid and unwavering decision to raise our children in the church.  We grew up in the church ourselves and we have also spent time as a couple and as a young family NOT in a church while we were navigating medical school and clinicals.  A little more than 3 years ago we decided to firmly plant ourselves back in the church again because we knew our baby needed it.  WE needed it!  Our lives look so different now that Christ is solidly at the center again. It warms my heart to hear Greysen saying things like "Mommy Jesus loves me!" and asking questions like "Mommy why did God put babies in your tummy?"  I want his identity FIRST to be rooted in Christ.  I want him to know the truth about who *God* says he is.  I want him to learn to decipher lies from the truth and I want him to know he is loved ALWAYS.  Even beyond the love that Jonathan and I unconditionally supply for him.  I want Greysen and Deacon and Dakota to know that they are valuable and special and IMPORTANT.  I would like to think that if they gain enough of a foundation in those facts, the world won't be able to persuade them otherwise.  But I really do know better.  I know this world is like a hungry lion just waiting to pounce on any insecurity they may have.  Waiting to ridicule any thought they may have that goes outside of the norm...beyond the "hive's" ideology.  But I hope that being surrounded by people who love them and who speak truth and love into their lives will create a "soft landing" for them...

Secondly, Jonathan and I will create that soft landing place here in our home so that our boys will know that whatever risks they take in life, however they choose to tackle life circumstances, there will ALWAYS be a welcoming and non-judgemental place for them to come back to...pass or fail!  I heard something said a few months after Greysen was born by a fellow med student who is much younger than me and Jonathan that has impacted the way I think about parenting.  She said, "My parents always encouraged us to be go-getters.  They always gave us the big thumbs up to pursue the hard stuff.  And I was never afraid to try the difficult challenges because I knew always that no matter what happened, they would be my soft place to land."  Jonathan and I want our boys to feel confident in who they are and to know that no matter their success rate, we will always accept and love them no matter their performance outcome.  They will never have to "earn" our approval.  That's something society dictates...we want our home to be different...

Thirdly, I am a mom of boys.  Three boys...very soon!  Today's society over-sexualizes women...objectifies them.  We whine and complain about sexual assault and sexual harassment, but yet our country keeps things like strip clubs, Hooters, and Twin Peaks in business with women who willingly subject themselves to savage, inappropriate men simply because they can earn a buck that way.  And men in our society cry big old crocodile tears when they get called on the table about their bad behavior.  Women objectify men too.  My own husband has been victim a of a persistently sexually aggressive woman who knew he was married and viewed that as a challenge to overcome.  She spoke to him and exploited herself in the world's most disgusting manner just to try desperately and unapologetically (and thankfully unsuccessfully) to turn his head.  So my perspective on sexual harassment and this idea that men are these savage beasts who can't keep their hands to themselves really rings my bell.  Because it's not true.  The door swings both ways.  So what will I teach my boys?  Women are strong AND vulnerable all at the same time.  They are delicate and a force to be reckoned with simultaneously.  They are not a conquest.  They are not a social or sexual experiment.  They are special and beautiful and their vulnerabilities are to be celebrated AND protected. 

I will teach my boys that loving a woman starts first in your heart.  Love for a woman starts first with loving who she is.  Not what she's wearing or her body style.  Love for a woman and intrigue about her should first be about what she conceals rather than what she reveals.  Women who strut around wearing next to nothing who parade their sexuality and their bodies around as "things to be sought after"...those may not be the women to pursue.  A woman's mind...her heart...those are the things to be attracted to.  I will teach them to respect ALL women.  I will also teach them to respect THEMSELVES enough to literally RUN from women who are exploitative and looking to take advantage of them.  I will teach them NEVER to be the savage men who can't keep their hands to themselves.  Jonathan and I will teach them what a loving and supportive marriage looks like.  We will SHOW them what a woman's respect for a man and a man's respect for a woman look like and how they compliment each other.  We will teach them that a marriage is a relationship between two DIFFERENT people who support and love each other EQUALLY.  Really any healthy relationship can be described like that.  I want our boys to know how to successfully form real relationships with people that don't leave them feeling less important than they are...

So no big deal right?  Just parenting three boys in a society that is confusing and scary.  But man...my life's work as a mother will be to instill these things and SO many more into my boys.  Constantly and for the rest of my life.  Even when they have families of their own!  The picture I have in my head of the future of our family is our boys in loving, committed relationships with people who we love and who love our family.  I want our home to always be warm and accepting and full of joy.  I want there to be no question about our faith and the God we serve.  Even though life will inevitably continue to be difficult...hurt and loss are not things we are immune to...I want my children to know that there is a constant both in our Heavenly Father and in the home that Jonathan and I have built...

What's in a Name?

We found out yesterday that the two little snugglers in my belly are both BOYS!!  I was shocked...I could have SWORN at least one of them was a girl...but I am THRILLED to death!  I really wanted them to be same sex twins, so I got my wish.  They are already SO unique!  Their profiles look totally different.  Deacon Paul looks like a carbon copy of Greysen.  Dakota Mitchell looks more like Jonathan in his profile.  Deacon is super wiggly and a bit of an exhibitionist ;), and Dakota is more subdued and likes to find the perfect snuggle spot and stay put.  Deacon is the smaller of the two by about a centimeter, and Dakota likes to stretch out his whole body when he reclines.  Two precious boys with two different body styles and two different personalities!

We chose their names separately.  Deacon Paul has been in our name arsenal since just after Greysen was born.  Dakota Mitchell we chose just a few months ago when we decided we definitely needed two boy names on deck in case they were both boys.  Glad we did!  So how did we come up with Deacon Paul and Dakota Mitchell?  They each have special stories:

Dakota Mitchell has a fun story.  We have had the hardest time arriving at boy names that we like.  We've kicked around SO many names for a LONG time, but every time we arrive at the "right" one, it's always an immediately unanimous decision.  So we knew we wanted to use Mitchell as the middle name for our third boy name.  Our "tradition" is to give our kids middle names with family ties.  Greysen's middle name is Neil which is Jonathan's middle name, and Jonathan's great grandfather's middle name.  The name Mitchell is my sweet Mimol's maiden name.  So we knew we had to use that one!  Dakota was a name that was nowhere on our radar.  But when we needed another boy name on deck, we decided to take some inspiration from aviation.  My dad is a single engine pilot and the plane he flies is a Piper Saratoga.  So we decided to cull through the names of Piper aircrafts to see if any of them, past or present, would be a cool baby name.  We obviously didn't get far.  When we scrolled through the D's and saw Dakota, that was a done deal.  Dakota Mitchell Womack.  Pure perfection...

Deacon has been a name we've liked for a long time.  Once Greysen was here, we both said "If we ever have another little boy that looks anything like Greysen, he could totally be a Deacon."  Both of our dads and all of our grandfathers were/are deacons in the church,  and Jonathan will be officially ordained as a deacon this fall!  So we felt like Deacon was a beautiful little tribute to the men in our lives and the men our Deacon will look up to!  Such a special heritage.  Paul is my father's middle name and his father's middle name.  We've known for a while that we wanted to use Paul somewhere in our name mix.  We felt like Paul was the perfect compliment to Deacon. Carrying on that beautiful patriarchal heritage with a name that gives a nod to so many generations of men in our lives! 

These little boys are SO loved already.  There is LOTS to do to prepare for their arrival, but I can't help but start dreaming of snuggling them and watching them grow up and seeing Greysen be their big brother.  He's SO excited about his brothers!  Our cups and our hearts run over with gratitude.  How in the world did we get so lucky???  THREE handsome boys.  I'm a boy mom though and through and I am thrilled to death to have that title...

Embrace the Chaos!

This week I've already begun feeling movement from our little miracles!  This being my second pregnancy, I now know what those first little baby flutters feel like.  But with two angels swimming around in there, their movements have been unmistakeable WAY earlier than I thought they would be.  They are no more than about an inch and a half from the top of their head to their bottoms right now (sooooo teeny!), but when I feel them move I'm reminded quickly that there are definitely TWO in there.  It's as though Baby A does some wiggling, and then Baby B wakes up and kicks back! 😂 I can feel their movements in two very different places in my lower belly...unmistakably two different babies!

The reality of the fact that they are truly two different people is slowly beginning to settle into my mind.  I panicked a little at our first ultrasound when Baby A had a heart rate of 142 and was measuring right on target, and Baby B had a heart rate of 137 and was measuring about 2 days behind.  I worried about that constantly until I saw them at 9 weeks and realized that they are two different people completely!  They won't measure the exact same, their heart rates will be different...they have different hearts!  And at 9 weeks, Baby A was wiggling up a storm...such a sassafras!  Baby B gave us a little movement and a good shot at that beautiful strong beating heart, and then rolled over away from the scan...almost as if to say "Look y'all...I'm here, I'm good, but this other baby has been kicking me all morning and I need a nap..."  Ha!  They are their own little people...unique personalities!

It's such a trip to have these little realizations through this pregnancy.  I'm certain realities like this will continue rolling in throughout the next 24-25 weeks that I'm carrying them...they'll likely continue indefinitely!  After I had Greysen I had begun making my "when I do this again I'm going to..." list.  SO funny how God has been like "Oh Rachel...you had no idea what I was doing then, and you can't predict it now!"  He's got such a sense of humor!  Everything about this pregnancy and these babies is unpredictable...totally unprecedented for me and for us.  A friend of mine who is a mommy of 1 year old twins herself told me this week, "The best wisdom I can give you about twins is just to roll with it.  Embrace the chaos!"  I'd say the last 12 years of our lives has fairly well prepared us to embrace chaos!!  We've been given (or will be given) all the tools we need to handle the crazy chaos that is bringing two DIFFERENT people into the world at the same exact time.  I can't wait to watch these two little ones grow and become even more unique and special...