A Journey to Motherhood

"Whenever a woman is in labor she has pain, because her hour has come; but when she gives birth to the child, she no longer remembers the anguish because of the joy that a child has been born into the world." - John 16:21

Today, I laid peacefully in my bed, next to my napping husband, as I began to read the book "Jesus Is ____" by Judah Smith. This, of course, was after I checked Facebook, Instagram and my Sims Freeplay game several hundred times to confirm and re-confirm that there was literally nothing else I could do to distract me from reading. Needless to say, I was suppose to read this book about a month ago.

A good ways into my reading, I felt the strangest thing from my now protruding mid-section that, yet again, distracted me from my failing attempt at being productive. Not having ever felt this before, I began to imagine that the small person in my stomach learned a new trick. Like my unborn child started his own band in my uterus and was now practicing the timing for his very first song.

Regardless of how intriguing the idea of my womb-bound child being a musical savant was, reality quickly set in, along with panic. My major issue being that I had no idea what was going on inside of my body. So, when in doubt I did what most reasonable adults would do. I Googled it. What I found was even more awesome than my first idea. I was experiencing fetal hiccups for the very first time in my pregnancy, which feels something like a heartbeat.

As I held my stomach, I felt the the rhythmic movements of my son's first "hiccups" and fell into complete awe. As if it isn't amazing enough that there is a baby in there, there is a baby that gets the hiccups!

Unsure of how long it is suppose to last, I grew fearful. In addition to his hiccups lasting for a minute or two, I began to feel him kick and shift around sporadically. Not that his movements are ever not sporadic. At that  moment it seemed to be a rational cause for concern. The thought suddenly dawned on me that he could be afraid. My only solution at that time was to play something soothing for him.

That is when it happened. Although, I tried to reason with myself. All reason was drowned out by me feeling helpless. In my mind, all I could think of was that my baby was potentially scared and there was nothing I could do to help him. This was a feeling worse than heartbreak. I felt so foolish even feeling that way, but I couldn't help but think of how I'm suppose to protect him and I can't. By the time the song ended, the hiccups were gone and the baby was mostly still. I could still feel him shifting but his movements were less abrupt.

My husband attempted to comfort me but most of me felt embarrassed that I even had that moment. It occurred to me that some of my feelings were pregnancy induced, but the rest of them was apart of a journey to motherhood.

An hour or so later, I told one of his God Mothers that I needed to tell her this story. I told her it was silly but she listened anyway. When I was done, we laughed a little, but she told me that she still worries about her daughter. She told me that the best thing I could do was teach my son who really protects him. I don't know if she knows how powerful that was to hear, but it was POWERFUL. She said to tell him that God protects him and as his parents we will try to keep him safe, but his hope should be in God. She then took it a step further and said that my husband and I should "live it out." We should be an example of what it looks like to trust God.

So, one of my first lessons in motherhood is "Do Not Panic. . . Just Trust." That, I can do.

Thank God for wise counsel.

Think Happy Thoughts :)

My Love Redeemed

"Love is the way back into Eden. It is the way back to life." - Francine Rivers, Redeeming Love

The other day I was watching a movie where Cicely Tyson's character described a timeless love with her late husband that struck a serious cord in my heart. She happens to be one of my favorite women in the world to hear speak about anything, but something about this monologue challenged me to question my ability to love without limitations.

In discussing this with my best friend, we reminisced on how crazy in "love" we were in our youth. Everything was so dramatic. We laughed about our fist loves and how we thought we could never live with out them. . . but did. We talked about past heartbreaks and how we thought we'd never love again. . . but did. Everything was so "extra."

So "extra," in fact, that I completely denounced passion. I came to the conclusion that the only way to love is through a mental decision to love unconditionally. Of course I still believe that there is someone God has designed for you. Yet, passion was considered to be an irrational emotion that was tied to immaturity.

My best friend and I agreed that we became jaded by failed attempts to be passionately in love. We also agreed that it was something to work back to with the person you choose to share your life with. I want to be able to say that I loved hard and whole-heartedly. Not to say, that I'm not in love now, but I can tell that there are still places in my heart that are guarded from past hurts. Still times, that I close myself off in memory  of lingering pains.

Then comes the moment that changed my whole perspective. I talked to my husband and I asked him, "Do you find that you love less passionately than the first time you ever loved?" He paused for all of two seconds and said, "No. I feel that I love more passionately each time, because I know that I don't want to loose it." This completely threw me for a loop. So, you love harder, knowing how it feels to loose love!? What kind of sense does that make!?

Why would anyone love harder after being hurt? It seemed to make perfect sense to loose your passion to love after love lost, but to gain passion? That just blew my mind.

I fell in love with him a lot more in that moment. It reminds me of the way that God loves us. Passionately enough to die on a cross for people that curse him as he did it, knowing how many times we will hurt him and still making the decision to give up his life for us. If that is not passionate love, I don't know what is? I couldn't imagine choosing to love someone passionately and unconditionally, knowing the pain they will cause me in the end. Also, knowing that some of them will never love me.

Yet and still. . . love never fails.

All this to say. I vow to challenge myself everyday to love passionately and wholeheartedly, like it was the first time I ever loved. The truth of the matter is I survived my past to get to my present. A present that I don't always feel I deserve. I owe it to my husband, children, family, and friends to love them like I've never loved before.

Eat. Pray. Let your love be redeemed. 

What If It Were Me. . .

"Your conscience is the measure of the honesty of your selfishness. Listen to it carefully." - Richard Bach, Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah

What if it were me? That was all I could think, as I left the apartment of my old friend. A friend who is currently struggling with brain cancer.

What if it were me who could no longer  walk without help from a wheelchair or walker. What if it were me who lost my ability to speak or write without difficulty. What if it were me whose life changed in an instant and something so far from my mind, like my ability to live past the day, was now all I could think of. What if it were me.

Variations of these thoughts plagued me, as I cried, yelled, and fell into pity and helplessness. Frustration came from the desperate thoughts that if no one would support my friend, who would support me? Who would run to my side and help me fight an enemy that seems so much bigger than me. What if it were me.

How could they not help him, I thought. What if it were them!? Then I thought, Well, maybe they never think it will be and maybe they're right. Maybe it never will be them or their close friend, or their mother, or their child who has to face something like this. So why is this my motivation? Why am I motivated by the fear that not fighting for my friend equates to no one fighting for me.

How selfish am I!? How could I honestly sit and feel sorry for myself, while my friend is facing one of the biggest challenges of his life!?

When I started to help with his fundraiser, I just wanted to help. I wanted to help just because he needed it. As I became involved in fundraising, I was astonished at how little people seemed to be moved by his story. Even with the simple things, like following a page on social media or giving up a meal at McDonald's to donate $5. I felt like I was pulling teeth to even get help administratively. My thoughts gradually changed from wanting to help to feeling like I had to help. I felt like somehow not helping would be reciprocated in my life at one low point or another. Like not reaching our goal meant we somehow failed ourselves.What a terrible way to think.

I believe we should help someone, when we can, because we can. Not because we're storing up good deeds for a rainy day. We should help because we genuinely care if another person survives or not. 

I love my friend and I'm sorry my mind switched to self-preservation in his time of need. Regardless of whether I ever get cancer or have to fight for my life, I will fight for his. It doesn't matter if it "could be" me, when it is him right now. Our goal is big but we will continue to work towards it. . . for Brandon.

God is still working on me and I don't believe he's done with my friend either :)

Please like our page and give if you can: https://www.facebook.com/100DaysToSaveALife

Love unconditionally | Laugh until you can't any longer | Live life to the best of your ability ;)

My Friend, Brandon

"When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share out pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand." - Henri Nouwen

I met Brandon at a "Christian party" my freshman year at Spelman (Please don't judge). Writing "Christian Party" out just sounds so funny now but it was the thing to do for the Christian crowd in the AUC. It was a legit party with Christian up-tempo music, food, and dancing (at safe distances, of course). It was unique. Something I will never forget. 

Freshman year was one of the most exciting because of the way you met people and instantly became life-long friends. That's how it was with Brandon. It was a relatively instantaneous friendship. Back then, Brandon was a clown. I mean that in the nicest way possibly, of course. It seems like Brandon would do his best to annoy me into chasing him around. Which meant poking, teasing, hitting, cake throwing (Yes, It happened), relatively anything.

As our friendship grew, I learned a lot about God, ministry, service, friendship, and dedication to people. Brandon always wanted to help someone. Even me. Over the years, I've seen him in his darkest and most vulnerable moments and at any moment, he would drop everything to help someone else.

Time and circumstances had a terrible effect on our friendship. It seems that by the time I heard word of Brandon in 2011, it had been nearly three years since we spoke more than a few words to each other. I hate that it had to have been this news that would bring us back together. 

In the Spring of 2011, I learned that Brandon was in the hospital with a brain tumor. The same lively, happy, loving friend that I had known so well, went to the hospital for headaches only to find something much worse.  

I went to see Brandon in the hospital, shortly after his initial surgery. His mother and some of our mutual friends were surrounding his bed. His head was wrapped with bandages and he could barely speak, but he was laughing and smiling with all of us. I fought my tears that day. I refused to cry, when he still had so much joy and so little information on why this was all happening to him. Although, I wondered. 

At that time, we didn't know whether Brandon was going to make it, nor what he was up against but we were there. We are still here. At the end of 2012, Brandon shared that he would soon be taken off of his mother's health insurance and needed help to insure his medical care would continue. 

In 2013, a group of friends and I started the "100 Days to Save a Life" campaign to help Brandon. We have raised over $4,000 but still have a long way to go. Whether we reach our goal or not, I have it set it my mind that friendship is more than being with something when everything is going well for them. True friendship stays with you in your darkest hour. True friendship holds your hand and fights along side you. I want to be a true friend. 

Please support my friend, Brandon, in raising money to take care of his medical needs. Glimoblastoma is the most common and most aggressive malignant primary brain tumor in humans. This disease does not have specific ties to genetics, race, gender, or age, which means that this could happen to anyone. Prognosis is extremely poor, with a median survival time of approximately 12-14 months. This disease is almost invariable fatal. Yet, Brandon has been fighting it for two years now. 

Please visit our Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/100DaysToSaveALife for more information.

Life Does Not Wait. . .

The other day, I was strongly considering hiding inside of myself, which is my introverted technique to running away. I was thinking that I would go so far inside of myself, I would get lost and then no one would be able to find me. I thought that losing myself would hurt everyone, which at the time, seemed like a great plan. I guess I just really wanted someone to feel how I felt in that moment. 

While sitting on the toilet (also known as my angry place. . . don't you dare judge me), I was thinking of how cold I could be. It's actually a little narcissistic, like who thinks they are going to punish the world by removing themselves mentally? I guess I do. 

As I sat there, it suddenly dawned on me that Life didn't wait for me to have my little "burn everything" moments. Although, I'm all in favor for a few of those, I have to recognize that it doesn't wait for me to lose myself, find myself, or do anything for that matter. What we choose to do in every moment gives our lives value or takes it away.

With every angry conspiring thought, breath, and twisted facial expression, Life left me behind. I sat and I looked around the bathroom and realized that I could be spending my time doing so many other things right now. I could be laughing right now, or even better eating and yet, I'm in the bathroom, wasting time being angry, as Life waved and kept it rolling.

I don't want to have to catch up. I also don't want to waste time plotting on being unhappy or making other people unhappy. I want to spend my time wisely.

I remember when I finally met my husband after several unsuccessful attempts at dating and I told God that I didn't want any more "almost's." I told God that the only man I wanted to deal with was "THE man," and not only that but I need some divine revelation a.k.a "proof". Much like this moment, I realized that my time was precious and I needed to make the best of every moment. I needed to understand that Life does not wait and position, mind set, and diligence can be everything in moments of difficulty. 

This was just my little reminder to keep pressing. Joy is something that comes from a deeper understanding, not emotions or circumstances. Peace is something that you invite into your heart and treasure. Wisdom is something you pray to find and fight to keep. Life is just so much better when you spend every moment like it is the most important thing in the world to you. 

Live. Laugh. Love. . . 

Coming Out: Joy, Progress, & 2013

Photography by Eternal Love

In December of 2010, The Lost Child: Waiting to be Found blog was birthed out of my uncertainty in my ability to continue a blog longer than two posts. I wanted to embark upon a self-proclaimed journey of self-discovery in 2011, which would consist of posting several blog posts in each month of the year. For me, it was scary to start something that I wasn't sure that I could finish. Yet, I managed to not only complete my task but go well beyond it.

As 2011 came to a close, I felt there was no more need for my blog. At least, not as it was. It's hard to continue talking about how lost and angry you are, when you are no longer lost nor angry. Through my journey of self-discovery I really seemed to find myself. In addition, I found God, Joy, Peace. . . and A MAN! (I really hope you guys can imagine the exaggerated southern accent that came in on the last part of that sentence.)

With that being said, the blog name was changed to The Child Once Lost. This was a big statement for my life because in retrospect, I've always felt lost. The year of 2012 was filled with certainty, understanding, and purpose. In summary, it was something new and that something new was awesome. All of this brings me to today, the day I am choosing to "come out"as a blogger, so-to-speak. Confused? I'd imagine. Let me explain. 

When I began this blog I wanted to remain as anonymous as possible to shield myself from all of the social harms of blogging, such as judgement, questions, black mail, etc. (I'm totally not paranoid.) To accomplish this task, I did several things. One thing was that I posted all of my blogs through an alias, which led most people to have challenges remembering my full name but allowed for my name not to be directly attached to this blog. In addition, I removed personal identifiers and created a very general profile. I also refrained from using personal pictures or names in any of my posts. All-in-all, I didn't want to just be completely out there. 

A month or two ago, one of my friends commented on one of my blogs and shared how different my posts were from the beginning of my blog to now. She shared that I changed a lot and she was happy for me. She ended the comment by stated that she, herself, was still lost. Her comment changed my perspective on my need to stay private. It made me think that sometimes transparency is necessary, in order to help others. 

The other side to this is that I'm happy. Genuinely happy. I'm proud of the progress and excited for the future. I hope that my story helps someone else. In all honesty, it still helps me. 

So, again, I welcome you to my blog.

T. Lamb

Love. Laugh. Live