Essays by Esther

Esther has entered a delicious new phase. She loves to write. She loves to talk. She loves to laugh. She actually even loves being miserable and cranky. She is unlike anyone I've ever known. She puzzles us and makes us crazy. We laugh and cry and are simply head over heels in love with her. Her are some of her most endearing notes this year...

Stay Home- Stay Safe Interviews

Each family member was interviewed for their thoughts and feelings regarding the coronavirus and subsequent quarantine. Since we are still semi-quarantined, and may be put back on house arrest again soon, the feelings are still fresh. 

Without further ado, here is The Worst, The Best, and The Things We Want to Remember:

Sarah-
"The Worst is not going to Church and that everything going on in the world feels really stressful. Also, eating plain pasta everyday in the beginning of quarantine was the worst.
The Best is that I am bonding with my family.
The Thing I Want to Remember is how important it is to trust God for everything. And how Dad beat Crushed Crayfish."

Joseph-
"I can't think of anything that was the worst.
The Best is taking care of all the wolf spiders I find.
The Thing I Want to Remember is the family time we spend together and all the time we've been spending outside."

Thomas-
"The Worst is when everyone disobeyed the law and visited each other while we were staying home. I felt left out and a little upset.
The Best was Sarah's birthday because we caught all the crayfish and played all the video games.
The Thing I Want to Remember is how Baby Crackers came out of her molt." (Claribel the Crayfish lives in my laundry room sink-This is a story for another day.)

Nathan-
"The Worst is when the crayfish die.
The Best is being able to keep Claribel and being able to see Dad every morning.
The Thing I Want to Remember is when I found Claribel in the yard and mom said I could keep her."

Esther-
"The Worst is when Thomas hit my bum with a dart gun.
The Best was Sarah's birthday.
The Thing I Want to Remember is when we dug that huge hole out back."

Danny-
"The Worst is that people died.
The Best is that we go outside all the time.
The Thing I Want to Remember is our family watching the Sonic movie together."

Charles-
"The Worst is going outside.
The Best is eating yogurt.
The Thing I Want to Remember is eating cheese."

Matt-
"The Worst is wondering if we would be able to buy food and then having to Lysol it in the garage. It was bootie.
The Best has been working from home and being around for all the stuff I usually miss when I am at the office.
I always want to remember lunches with the family, kids coming up into the library and interrupting the work day, people bringing up snacks."

Quarantined

We all know that 2019 ended like garbage and 2020 didn't start out quite right for our family. With recurrent breast infections, missing out on the kids' Christmas dance recital, falling behind in school and sicknesssicknesssickness, we had hoped that the New Year would bring new joy. Then the car accident happened. And another breast infection for me. And then March came. What could possibly be worse than what had already happened?!?!?! Well, I'll tell you:

A respiratory pandemic.

These days are even more whacky than normal. March of 2020 started out with a worldwide pandemic. The coronavirus, COVID-19, hit our area hard. Here, in Michigan, our governor shut it allllll down the second week of March. Too many deaths in such a short time. The kids finished out what would be their last week of dance for the year and we met with our tax accountant, Wes. As we were driving home from finishing up our taxes, Matt and I looked at each other and breathed deep. We had just received notice that the Catholic Churches would be closed until April. Quarantine began that night. Stay Home-Stay Safe (the 2020 Quarantine) was a time to remember. Matt was told to work from home, the greatest blessing to our family during this time. He would start off in his “office” in the closet every morning, taking meetings and doing design work in a tiny space. It was only temporary, we said. He’d be back to work soon. We only left our home to pick up groceries. But even groceries were scarce. As people began to realize how awful this virus truly was, panic ensued. For some strange reason, the panic induced people to buy scads of toilet paper and every bottle of acetaminophen, Lysol and all paper products that were ever made. The government encouraged everyone to stock up and purchase two weeks of all groceries and medicine, to reduce the number of times we would need to leave home. We couldn’t even get one week’s worth of groceries. There was no meat to be found. No eggs. No milk. Bread was bought out. By the second week of quarantine, we had condiments and ONE solitary yogurt in our fridge.  What began as a measure of safety quickly became the scariest thing I have lived through…up until June…but more on that later. We initially believed that the quarantine would only last a few weeks and that we’d be back together at Church for Easter Sunday. We were very, very wrong. Things got even worse. Matt and I lost a good deal of weight. The children had pasta with butter for each meal. We couldn’t find fruits or vegetables or snacks. Neither Matt nor I wanted to set foot in a store, but Kroger stopped accepting pick-up orders because they were booked a solid week out. This meant that I would have to order our groceries for the next week as I was picking up our order for the current week. The third week into quarantine, at 9p, I looked out the front door as I was closing the shades for the night. Our ENTIRE porch was filled with groceries. My brother Matt had sent his Instacart Shopper to make a run for us. It was enough food to fill our whole pantry, both fridges and freezers, and fruits enough to overflow the counter bowl. I cried as I Lysoled each package as it came into the house. Things were different now. We would need to change the way we did things. I registered for Instacart the next week. No more in-store shopping for us. Mary and Art Zion sent food through the mail and UPS. My parents tried to find and send healthy snacks through Amazon. It was quite a time. 

Lulu put in her first hard day's minute's work.

 And she began walking.

 We've  had LOTS of family time.

Cleaning suddenly became of utmost importance. Everyone chipped in. 

God- Part II

Between doctor's appointments and car shopping, this week has been extremely stressful. Talking to insurance companies, re-living the accident, trying to sleep amidst pain and haunting nightmares, and wondering how in the world I will get back to my normal self so I can care for the children alone again... it feels so heavy. 

My parents arrived Sunday and have been my constant help. They've babysat and bathed babies, washed dishes and made meals. They've been my left and right hands. 

It all seems unreal. When we went to pick up our personal belongings from the Volt, the reality hit us. Seeing the crushed metal.

Seeing the actual space inside the car.

Being unable to retrieve any of our things from what used to be the trunk of the Volt.

I cried.

Some of my tears were from ugly shock.

Some were from gratitude. 

Lucy is healing exactly as she ought to. The doctor was pleased with her behavior and body movement and gave her a thumbs up.

I am healing slowly and surely. I've been in a good deal of pain, but I have been icing and heating and resting and medicating. That bruise is one of a few- the other places will not be documented. I am swollen and sore, but I do adore the color purple. The chiropractor says that I will be able to hold my head upright soon and that my back can be straightened out. I am eager for the day when I will be able to turn my head again!

Seeing the car in the pound was more than sobering. I don't exactly have words yet for how close we were to death and how close my head was to the front of the truck. 

Lucy was on the back driver's side. I was on the back passenger side.

Lucy's car seat did exactly what it was created to do.

It saved my baby's life.

Graco forever!

God saved us.
 I will forever be grateful. As I learn to cope and pray about this new opportunity to live with a fresh start, I begin each day with gratitude. 

God- Part I

My faith is important to me. I don't always get it right, but as a Schwalm, I'm a fighter and determined to "win".

 Can one "win" at faith? 

The very true and appropriate answer is "Absolutely Not".

But. Ask a Schwalm, and you'll get varying degrees of the answer, "HECK, YES!"

(wanna see my trophies?)

I know that when things go awry in my relationship with God, that the issue or interference is always on my end. God, as an Omnipotent Being, neither struggles nor changes. So when challenges arise and I don't feel God or don't see God or really just feel like I'm 12 inches deep in mud and no one cares, I look at my faith and feel that I am failing. And yet, it's precisely during these times when God has been closest to me, loving me, holding me...protecting me.

It's no secret that I struggle with a very deep-rooted anxiety. Over the past year, it has gotten much worse. Much, much worse. It has become my constant companion and has morphed into agoraphobia, OCD tendencies and full-blown depression. It has been a dark time. I worry about everything. I worry about the children sniffling. I get panic attacks when I even think of the flu or see someone's sick child on social media. I take walks around the perimeter of our yard because it is so painful for me to leave our home. Initially, I thought that this was a lack of faith on my part. Didn't I trust that God would take care of us? Didn't I believe that He would carry me through anything? Loving and trusting God would mean that I would have no anxiety of any sort?

Well, that's the goal.

But, in reality, we all fall short. Everyone has worries. Everyone struggles. Some are able to rebound a little more quickly than others. In my own life, my rebound is more of a "let the basketball fall to the ground and roll around a little bit until it comes to a complete stop and the wind stops blowing and everyone has left the court and THEN I'll go get it. Carefully."

REBOUND THAT BASKETBALL!

REEEEEE-BOUNNNNNND

(GO SPX EAGLES!)

Ok.

Moving on.

So my slow rebounding was causing me to actually have anxiety ABOUT my anxiety...because I was letting God down in some way shape or form through my lack of faith. 

But, as I sit here and type this, tears are falling because this is a lie I have told myself for too long.

God knows. God sees me. God sees my struggles. He sees my hand falter as I reach for the front door handle. He sees my long, slow walks around the yard as I fight myself for wanting to retreat inside. He sees me teach my children about His Love and MERCY. He is present when I panic. He knows. 

God became Man.

Jesus FELT.

God has been with us through many dark times before. Occasionally, other people have to point out to me where His Hand was in certain situations. But it is not difficult for me to see in hindsight. 

In HINDSIGHT.

When the darkness is over.

When the light has returned.

When the adrenaline has stopped pumping.

In the middle of the dark, I fumble. I cry. I see, hear, and know nothing.

Until this past weekend.

Saturday was shaping up to be a normal day for our family. Matt was home and we had plans to organize our disaster of a house and clean it top to bottom. I had had a wicked case of mastitis that took nearly two weeks to clear up, the girls' room ceiling was leaking because our roof had broken, we had moved around beds and the whole house was in quite a state since I hadn't been at peak operation. I was really eager to get cleaning with Matt and put things back in their places. My parents were due to come in on Monday, to celebrate Christmas and visit for a while. I was excited since we hadn't seen them since September. However, Lucy started baby food recently and had developed some constipation. On Saturday morning, she was struggling very badly. I called the doctor on-call and he asked that I bring her in really quick to the office. I knew it would be a quick visit, that he would dispense some helpful hints, maybe a relief med for her, and definitely some reassurance for me. I told Matt I would be right back. He offered to help by driving me and Lucy, since Lucy screams the second she gets in a car seat. I said "no" initially, but then thanked him for his offer and said, "Yes! That would be really helpful." We asked Sarah and Joseph, our certified babysitters, to hold down the fort for just a bit while we ran out. We told them they could play video games and we would start chores when we returned. Everyone cheered and we left immediately. On our way to the office, Matt mentioned that he had forgotten to give Sarah the phone from his office and that the ringer was probably on silent. I said we would just be gone a little while and I was certain that the kids would be fine. If she needed the phone she would find it.

The doctor dispensed everything I anticipated and we were on our way home just a short while later. Matt and I were talking about what room we were going to start with when we got home, a push-up challenge that he and my brothers are a part of, and when we would get to Kroger and pick up some meds for Lucy.

I was in the back seat with Lucy, who was remarkably peaceful on this trip.

We came to a stoplight at 34 Mile Road and Van Dyke.

We stopped.

The Dodge Ram, carrying scaffolding and traveling 55mph behind us, did not.

We didn't hear brakes at all.

There was the sound of metal crushing, excruciating pain, the car moving and spinning and then silence.

And then noise. Lots of noise. 

It was me.
 I was screaming, "My baby! My baby!"

I couldn't move. My legs were stuck in between the bench and the seat in front of me. Lucy was bawling. There was glass everywhere. Matt had gotten out and was somehow talking to me from behind. I was screaming at OnStar about Lucy. They dispatched the emergency vehicles. I leaned over and unbuckled her as Matt lifted her out of her car seat. We were in the middle of an intersection. I worried about oncoming traffic. I worried about getting hit from another direction. My door was stuck. I couldn't get out. Someone lifted Lucy's seat and I was able to turn my legs enough to climb out her door. Someone helped me out. It started snowing as we stood in the middle of the road. Lucy stopped crying the minute I took her back from Matt. Someone helped stop traffic so we could get to the side of the road. I was bleeding and in pain, but had no idea where anything was coming from. I only cared about Lucy. A family had stopped their car immediately and let me climb in to nurse the baby and warm up while we waited for the ambulance. I sat in a complete stranger's car. Lucy nursed while I looked her over. She looked completely fine, save for two large burn marks on either side of her neck from the car seat straps. Matt looked fine too, as he walked around outside the car, talking to people that were there to help. I felt woozy and confused and TERRIFIED. I saw Lucy's car seat. It was broken. 

Matt came to me and said that the man who hit us said that he was looking down and didn't even see us or the light.

The ambulance arrived and drove us to the hospital, where I struggled with neck pain, vision changes, back pain, hip dislocation and some ache on my arm that I couldn't identify.

All tests came back normal. No broken bones. The baby was fine. Matt was fine. I was fine. 

I believe the paramedic said something about how I was "gonna hurt like hell for a while", but we were alive.

Somewhere in this timeframe, I had made a few phone calls to have our sweet neighbor Wendy go tell the kids we were ok, Grandma Lois and Grandpa Dale to go sit with them until we returned from the hospital, Kelly to see if we could have a new car seat for Lucy and a ride home from the hospital, and my parents to have them come as soon as possible.

It was strange going home. Jay and Molly came to pick us up. Lucy was unusually quiet and well-behaved. Jay kept chatting and kept our minds busy. I couldn't stop thinking about how all three of us were alive. How I knew God was there. I felt Him. I knew He saved us. He was with us. In the middle of the dark, I felt Him. 

At home, Lois and Dale were rocks for us. Everything was normal. The house was standing, dinner was in the oven, the kids were bickering as usual and avoiding getting the table set. How was this all possible? How did this happen? Lois allowed me to fall apart. She held me as I lost my mind. Dale made us laugh. They brought us peace and normalcy. God was with us.

My parents texted. They were coming first thing in the morning. God was with us.

Family text messages started pouring in as the news spread. We had support. God was with us.

Mike and Amanda ordered the Cadillac of all  new cars seats for Lucy and had it shipped immediately. They texted so often that I wasn't alone with any dark thoughts.

 God was with us.

Joseph

Joseph is 12. His many talents include sleeping in “late” (still awake by 7a), building intricate Lego fortresses (but being unable to make his bed), memorizing historical facts (but not his Catechism), and being Lucy’s favorite person in the universe.

He spends a good deal of his time playing with Lucy. He holds her in a sloppy spaghetti type of way and practices his tap dance moves while singing her songs and coining new phrases for their friendship. “The Little One Step” is the dance move that pleases Lucy best, and so Joseph will hit repeat for the better part of 30 minutes for this loud, stomping routine. While this might feel distressing to type and is all sorts of obnoxious for his other siblings, LUCY ADORES JOSEPH and his ability to get on her level. Babies love repetition and she is, almost 100% of the time, soothed by Joseph’s confidence. I often turn to Joseph when Lucy is dissatisfied with me. So, while he refuses to clean bathrooms because of his aversion to germs (and the agents to rid the bathroom of germs), Joseph will babysit Lucy for the same amount of time, allowing ME to get my work done. This is a lifesaver for me…and our entire family benefits. I have come to rely on him heavily, and he rises to the occasion. When Joseph helps the family with Lucy, I see glimpses of the man he is becoming. He is delightful and gentle, unselfish and attentive. Lucy brings out the best in him, and I am blessed to be able to witness it now, in this space.

                I remember someone once telling me that the greatest gift a parent could ever give a teenager is a baby. A baby never cares if you’re having a bad day, or if your pimples are raging, or if you didn’t get all your algebra questions right. A baby is unconditional love. 

Homeschooling allows me to be front and center, observing and pondering the growth in Joseph. I know what a blessing it is for him to be able to figure the world out in a safe place, surrounded by love. I know what a blessing it is for me to be able to witness these moments. I know how special the ability to homeschool is. I do not take one day of it for granted, challenging as it may be sometimes. I know that these times will not last forever. Someday soon, Joseph will outgrow the learning environment here and will choose to broaden his horizons. I will rejoice for him when that happens, as that is our goal: to raise independent humans. 

But, for right now, I will soak in the joy of having our (sometimes) dependent Joseph with us here. I will look for opportunities to show him love. I will thank God for the blessing of our first-born son and the beauty he brings to our world.

I love you, Joseph. Forever and always. Unconditionally.

Grace

                                                                            

                I am sitting in Matt’s office (our bedroom closet) with the door closed. I am listening to the sounds of FOUR (4!) young boys attempting to get clean in a joint bath in the other room. Matt is “watching” Lucy while she crawls around my bedroom floor, Esther sits on my bed folding laundry, and Sarah is talking to Matt about various bits and pieces that fly through her adolescent brain. Every once in a while, I hear Matt holler something extremely helpful out to the male offspring like, “PLEASE, SOMEONE JUST WASH SOMETHING!” There is chaos and crazy. Water splashing and singing and baby babbling and joy. There is also so.much.screaming.

                This is my life now.

And here I hide in a 5x10 cubicle with a glass of wine and a computer. This is my space. My time.

Writing.

I think some would call this “Self-Care”.

I call it “Survival”.

Parenthood is the real deal, man. It is nonstop, no rest, 24 hour, back to back to back (etc.) shifts at the Emergency Room where you are the janitor, tech, nurse, doctor, and administrator…and occasionally the ambulance driver…and always the secretary.

SOMETIMES, the only break you get is for a cold cup of coffee and a bite of whatever questionable leftover is on the counter as you pass by to find a rag to clean up that umpteenth spill of the morning.

SOMETIMES, the only sleep you get is on the floor next to a toddler bed, holding a sticky hand because the most recent book that came into your house was about dinosaurs and now “T-RUX” is an enemy of the dream state.

SOMETIMES, there is drama about friends not liking your kids or speaking in hushed tones behind their backs. Or a teen feeling like “maybe possibly somehow maybe not but I’m probably not imagining it” being left out.

SOMETIMES, the only time you get with your spouse is playing a video game together and eating ice cream with allllll the fixings after the kids are tucked in bed and you wonder how in the world it got to a point where you didn’t even have energy to speak to your lifelong companion.

SOMETIMES, you wake up on Sunday mornings after two hours of sleep because of a teething baby and pray to God that you can make it to Church without sinning. And sometimes you sin. Most times you sin. And when it comes time to take that 3 year old out to the van in clothes that he has stripped off 5 times, in a coat that he hates more than broccoli, in shoes that are the worst he’s ever seen and you’re being mean and rude and bad and he just wants to play playdoh naked…those times are awful.

But then, THEN, then, there are moments of grace. ALWAYS. Not just sometimes. But ALWAYS. And you lean in to the hard because you know that God will provide the grace. Sometimes we see it, sometimes we feel it, sometimes it’s just so hard you can’t even begin to imagine it’s there. But every once in a while, your spouse will love you enough to give you the gift of time alone. And, being off-duty, you can see the grace as clear as day. Without the distractions, you can feel it.

And regardless of what you had in mind to write about earlier, you document this grace because you want to remember it forever.