Yes yes...I know I changed the words just a tiny bit, but I couldn't help it. It's what came to my mind when I realized I should type up a sort of farewell.
I'm guessing this does not come as a surprise. I mean, it's been MONTHS since my last post. Aubrey is already 9 months old (and I haven't even taken her 9 month photos yet! *gasp* Though I've thankfully taken all her other monthly sets of pics...mostly on time).
It's not that I don't enjoy sitting to type up a random post about my day or share my heart with all of you. And let's be honest, sometimes I'm really preaching to myself when I type up an "on my heart" sort of post.
But with all the adjustments that came when we welcomed our second, and with all the activity and nurturing and life being lived over here, something had to give, and I was certainly not going to give up my time in the word without a fight - not that I get it every day, but it certainly is my goal. (You guys, any time I think of spending time with my Jesus, I hear the words to "Lord, I Need You" playing over and over and over. I cannot be a good mom, wife, sister, friend without Him. I need Him daily!) So when it came down to the wire, I found myself cutting out Facebook - if you head over to my page, the last post you're going to see is...honestly, I'm not even sure because I haven't checked it in months, but I cut out both my page and my personal account; it's all gone - and not taking time to sit and write.
I can and do enjoy writing, but I have journals for my children and my hubby I would much rather see words put into and taking time to write in those is even difficult.
All of this to say, I will miss my blogging community via sharing myself here in this small space of the web. I do plan to stay connected by reading the blogs I was already following when I can, which honestly is a rareity, but I do enjoy when I am able.
Here's to closing this particular chapter in my life! May you all enjoy your holidays!
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
3.21.2014
The Birth of a Rainbow Baby
*Let me warn you: I will likely overshare. I truly want to remember everything surrounding this birth, especially as a reminder to myself of what I accomplished so differently from my first birth experience. Also, it's going to be long.*
I can't quit saying it, to myself and out loud: I have a rainbow baby. I am blessed with a rainbow baby. My arms are holding the blessing of a rainbow baby. A living, breathing child outside the womb. (I may annoy you with how much I mention Aubrey being my rainbow baby. It's where I'm living and constantly consumes my thoughts. I apologize for my overuse of the label.)
"Our rainbow baby is here. She's actually here," I whisper.
The tears overtake me. Tears of joy. gratitude. grief. happiness. disbelief. love. The emotions are overwhelming, but I let them come.
I don't want to forget her big debut. Something in me says I never will, but I want the memory preserved.
Fresh.
As crystal clear as the day it happened.
Wednesday. February 5. 2014.
Leading up to the fifth I walked around in early labor. Contractions off and on for at least a week and a half. A few "this is it" contractions followed by lulls or no change in intensity. With every day my body would practice more, with more intensity. And each passing day found me drawing deeper and deeper into myself.
I began to internalize my feelings of wanting to punch anyone who tried to tell me I was going to make it...to my due date. I was also becoming very antsy as the room I had left to give was gone and being stretched to the nth degree. Not to mention I was constantly battling fear of "what ifs" which seemed ten times larger in the face of the Fact: Aubrey would be our rainbow baby.
"Lord, please bring Aubrey here safe and sound. And would you please have her come soon? I feel like my body can't handle too much more of this," I constantly prayed.
I was so anxious for "the real deal" each contraction automatically sent me into hoping this would be the time. I wanted her here so desperately I would even randomly toy with ideas of inducing labor. Only for a split second, but they still seemed slightly appealing. Anything to hold my sweet Aubrey in my arms.
Thankfully, I waited.
I woke around 4 am on the fifth with contractions similar to those I would experience between my "normal" Braxton-Hicks: like mild cramps. They seemed to be coming pretty regularly as I took my usual 500th middle of the night bathroom run and then lay in bed wide eyed with excitement. Somewhere in there I convinced myself to go back to sleep. I knew I would need it whether or not it was the real deal.
By 6 the intensity was picking up and they were coming so close together any hope of further sleep was out of the picture. They were coming every 2 to 3 minutes, though I wasn't aware of it at the time. Part of me was too afraid to voice it being the real deal: I had experienced two runs with 6+ hours of Braxton-Hicks when I was pregnant with Zoë. The second ended up becoming her birth story, but it was everything I was trying to avoid this go round.
"What if this was just a different version of my Braxton-Hicks situation with Zoë?" I thought.
Yet, I didn't want to be caught giving birth at home (some people don't mind but that has no appeal to me, especially considering I live in an apartment complex) so I told Ben I was going to shower and wanted him to track contractions with my phone.
"Don't get too excited," I said. "It's probably not anything...but I just want to be sure."
That was when we realized how close they were. And they weren't letting up. Nothing was stopping them and walking only made them stronger.
It was then I began getting snappy as my mom, who thankfully had arrived in town two days earlier so we could spend time prebaby's arrival, and Ben were both getting excited. Can't say I would change my snappiness either: what woman in labor wants to be asked if she's in labor? Or have jokes cracked at as she leans against a wall because it's the most comfortable way to go with the contraction? Or have a question asked that just seems plain stupid?
I found myself wanting to be left alone, yet my 23 month old was following me around, we were still trying to pack our bags, and I wanted to make sure I ate before we left as I knew full well I wouldn't be able to eat anything after arriving at the hospital (for which I am very glad looking back). The feeling of drawing deeper into myself became really strong. It took everything in me not to snap at my child who was being highly needy; I'm sure her neediness was correlated to my labor. I didn't even try to control my snappiness when it came to my hubby or my mom. (Man does he love me! And my mom...well that goes without saying. She put up with raising me :])
About an hour later, Ben had all our bags and my pillows (the back seat could have made a comfy bed for someone who wasn't in labor) in the car, we had both put in a decent meal, we kissed our first born good-bye, and told my mom not to call us unless it was an emergency and to tell no one we had gone to the hospital. "Oh! That's going to be so hard!" were her words as I waddled out the door hating the Houston traffic I knew we were getting ready to drive into.
Ben did an excellent job of getting us through the traffic in less than an hours time. Without making me yell at him because of discomfort too. I'm pretty sure the only raising of a voice during that ride was when my chapstick was lossed for what seemed like forever, but was probably more like a mere accumulation of maybe...oh, 5 seconds. I had to have my chapstick! (Pretty sure I used that chapstick at least 349209184 times during labor, too.)
Unfortunately, his driving did nothing for the stress all the traffic caused me. Which seemed to pull a number on my body and I could barely feel my contractions. I kept telling Ben I was not going to be happy if I had been in some period-like discomfort all morning (I wish I could have plugged my heating pad in in my car...well, not really as it didn't sound comfortable, but I was wishing I was standing rather than sitting during several contractions) only to get to the hospital and hear that it hadn't done anything from my appointment the week before. (I was almost a 4 and 50% at my 38 week check.) Actually, I'd likely say some really not nice words. If practicing was going to change intensity to real labor at home, only to be scared off by the ridiculous amount of traffic Houston produces in the morning and evening rushes, I would rather keep this baby in. (Ummm...says what 39 week, uncomfortably pregnant woman ever?! Me apparently...)
Thankfully, Ben put up with all my nonsense talk. All the fear gushing out of me that maybe I'd read the messages my body was sending wrong. All the "WHERE ON THIS BLANKETY BLANK EARTH DID MY CHAPSTICK GO?!" (Yeah...I apparently get a little crazy when I'm in labor and lose my chapstick and can't find it when I need it. Oi vey.) All the "I really think I'm just going to cry if they send me home...I'm soo uncomfortable I don't think I can keep her in much longer."
We finally arrived at the hospital a mere 45 minutes later. (This is amazing considering we were in rush hour traffic and as far as I know Ben didn't speed ridiculous amounts to get there.) As he was pulling in he asked if I wanted to be dropped off. To which I snappily replied I wasn't sick and would walk with him from the garage to the assessment floor. So we parked. We walked. And thankfully I was taken back to a room in less than 2 minutes.
Of course, the assessment nurse starts asking you questions and since your husband doesn't know all the answers you have moments where you raise your hand while you work with a contraction. You almost want to tell them to go find the answers in their computer or just put patient wouldn't answer. And then the dreaded checking. They have to to admit you. And no one in a hospital knows how or is willing to check you without putting you flat on your back. (The most uncomfortable position for a laboring woman. Honestly, for a full-term pregnant woman.)
But I almost jumped for joy as I heard, "5cm and 90%". Hallelujah! I had my ticket in. This baby was working her way out!! (I should also mention, the staff at the hospital I birthed at was AMAZING!! There is only one person we interacted with I'd be ok with never seeing again. Otherwise, we were blessed above and beyond by our caretakers through the entirety of our two days.) We also realized, shortly after the nurse calling my doc to tell him I was being admitted, the reason I thought my contractions were puttering off was because some of them were so mild on the pain scale and in comparison to others, I could barely feel them. (Oh was I hopeful this meant the pain wouldn't get crazy intense!)
We talked and laughed between contractions. Ben held my hand and stayed quiet during contractions. Everything was going seemingly easy.
After about an hour we were moved to my labor and birth room. I knew we were in good hands when my nurse was asking me a couple questions, so I mentioned my birth plan, and I found she had already read over it since it had been scanned into the system. After talking with her a bit, I found out she has four kids and had had three of hers unmedicated. God was good and blessing me out the wazoo for this go round!
Contractions continued in the same manner they had been at home with the exception of them being closer to 3-4 minutes apart. Since arriving at the hospital they had seemed to pick back up. Yet my OB and nurse both commented on how I would bounce back as though nothing was going on after contractions. I also thought maybe I would be one of the lucky people who aren't too phased by labor...just maybe. At least, I hoped maybe labor would stay this easy. As long as I focused on breathing, the discomfort was really quite manageable. We even played a couple hands of gin rummy while I sat on the birthing ball.
However, after a few hours of "easy" labor, my contractions began to be really uncomfortable. I also became so nauseous I would dry heave with almost every contraction (thus the reason I was grateful I hadn't had any food since 7 that morning). Standing and slightly leaning on someone or something was the only position I found any ease to breath while my contractions did their work. It wasn't much longer after the intensity of my contractions changed that a resident walked into the room with my nurse and I asked to be checked. I was sure my body had made progress after laboring in this manner for a good four hours and feeling a change in intensity.
I wasn't prepared to hear I had barely dilated from the 5 I was at time of admittance. (Plus, that was horrid news after the worst pain being checked could produce. That resident...she was not considerate of the fact she was dealing with sensitive parts that were already sore from all the work going on down there. Sheesh!) Though it was a relief to know I was completely effaced. And to know Aubrey had at least moved from a +1 to a 0 station. (Even a small amount of progess sounded good to this laboring woman.) The resident, who apparently could have cared less about my birth plan, immediately suggested breaking my water to speed labor up. I looked at Ben who calmly told me I needed to do what I felt was best. After not much thought, I looked at the resident, nicely declined her breaking my water and said we would take a walk around the halls. She obliged and said she'd be back to check me in two hours.
Between contractions was a breeze. During them I wasn't so much a fan of knowing other people would see me leaning against the wall and Ben rubbing my back, but I could have cared less. Sitting on a birthing ball hadn't been helping, I really could have cared less about sitting by that point anyway, and I was in no mood to let the resident mess with my birthing plan, since there was no reason to at that point in time. I was still determined I could make it to the end.
While we were walking, my nurse came to find us because my monitors needed to be adjusted. (Yay for wireless monitoring; boo that they are required at the hospital.) By the time we made it back to the room, I was starting to feel really sleepy. I just wanted to rest as much as I could. I kept telling Ben and my nurse I just wish I could sleep. I really just wanted to get a little bit of sleep. I also had the urge to go to the bathroom, though I knew this was my normal "need to go" and not a "time to push baby out" urge. And after giving my bottom half less pressure to deal with (I knew I wasn't mistaken and about to push my baby out on the toilet!), I really wanted to find a way to sleep.
Though the bed wasn't all that appealing to me, I decided to try sitting propped up with my feet propped on pillows to get some rest between contractions. (As fancy as those hospital beds are, the foot didn't raise up to elevate my feet at all.) No other positions sounded appealing to test out, I wasn't comfortable even in the "most comfortable" (oxymoron, yes?) position of a leaning stand, so I could have cared less what it felt like to sit propped up with pillows, and though I had the option of a huge tub filled with water, I had no desire to be submerged at all. I figured at least I couldtry to sleep between contractions rest my legs and arms, which had been supporting me while contracting, allow my contractions to use all I had in me, and hope that maybe I'd get a little bit of rest between them, though they were staying less than 2-3 minutes apart by this point.
It wasn't long before I became horribly uncomfortable. Breathing was really taking a lot for me to focus on and my desire for sleep became stronger with each contraction.
Somewhere in there, my nurse came into the room to check on us. I told her I was really starting to feel a lot of pressure, though I wasn't having an urge to push. It was shortly after that exchange labor became intense. So intense that I began telling Ben I wasn't sure how I was going to make it. It was then my nurse set herself up in her chair and I had both her and Ben reminding me to focus on breathing (the hospital I gave birth at has a 1:1 ratio for patients to nurses. YES!). Ben kept telling me how proud of me he was and how great I was doing.
As each contraction ended I wouldfall asleep...I'm honestly not sure what to call it but I know I kept my eyes shut through the rest of labor; at least, it was a rare occurance for me to open my eyes. And I know when I wasn't having a contraction, I was hoping sleep would come to me. But I also know I wasn't actually able to sleep because, as foggy as my memory was by this point, I verbally mentioned it a couple of times and mentally was constantly wishing it: I really wanted to sleep.
Somewhere in there I began to start feeling slightly pushy. I told my nurse who told me to let her know if I kept feeling that way. If I did we would need to call the resident back to the room. After a few more contractions feeling like there was ridiculous pressure, I was ready to be checked. Despite the fact it had only been about an hour since I was last checked and most of it had been spent with me telling Ben I wasn't going to make it while he and my nurse encouraged me to stick with it, I was ready to be checked. It was also encouraging when my nurse, at one point, told Ben I looked like someone who was in the middle of transition: I was hopeful I had dilated at least a few centimeters; she said I looked like I was an 8 or 9.
The resident came in, made me lie on my back (man I wanted to cuss her out!), and checked me. It was at that point I had no filter and yelled at her (well, it felt like I yelled at her, but Ben says no one outside of our room would have heard me) "YOU'RE ROUGH!" (I still die laughing every time I think about this. Me in my "normal" state would have probably kept my mouth shut. Me in labor - I say whatever I'm thinking. Yikes! And honestly, she was...well, let's just say I'd never want her as my OB.) And it was after that my heart sunk: I was feeling an urge to push, and I was only a 6.
Do what?!
I was sure, after hearing that, I wasn't going to make it. I was so upset I tearlessly cried (I wanted to all-out cry but as I was already so focused on my labor I don't think tears would have come had I tried to force them out) to Ben about how I wasn't sure I was going to make it. I also decided sitting wasn't doing any good, I needed and wanted to get off my back, so I rolled over onto my side. As I was pouting, the resident started rattling off all the options I had for relief. I'm not really sure what she said, aside from mentioning breaking my water again. So I moaned about how I wasn't going to make it while I pulled the leg I wasn't laying on up to my chest and was mentally wishing the resident disappear. I did hear my nurse encourage me to lay on my side.
"Just focus on breathing through this contraction. [I'd then say something to the affect of how I wasn't going to make it and there was so much pressure] That's your baby moving down. It won't be too much longer. Just focus on your breathing," my nurse would say.
Ben later told me she shut the resident up, who had begun promptly listing different pain management options as I rolled on my side, when the resident mentioned an epidural. Apparently when that was mentioned, my nurse looked her squarely in the face and told her I didn't want an epidural. I had had one with my first and wasn't looking to have one this time. (Thank you, Jesus, for an amazing nurse!!) He also told me he was really thankful the nurse was there to buffer and be a voice for us because had she not said anything, he was ready to not-so-nicely tell the resident she must not have read our birth plan, hand her a paper copy, and tell her to go read it. (And as much as I loved my nurse, I kind of wish I would have had a chance to see that scene play out...though maybe I wouldn't really remember it...)
After turning on my side, I felt something running down my leg. "Did my water break? I think my water broke? Is that my water?" Yeah...I was definitely in the throws of transition.
The resident, who was still standing there after her pain management discourse, moved to sit on the bed and told me to lie on my back.
"I don't want to lie on my back!" I emphatically told her.
She obliged to her laboring patient's wishes (FINALLY! THANK YOU, JESUS!), saw that I was bleeding, and with urgency told me she had to check me because she had to find out why I was bleeding.
"Great," I thought. "I'm going to have made it this far only to have something happen. Jesus, please let it not be so."
What felt like forever later I heard the resident say to the nurse, "It's because she's changing rapidly. She's a 7."
And then it started: an urge to push like no freakin' other. So much so I told the resident, not long after checking me, that I really wanted to push. I knew I was only a 7, but by golly, I wanted to push!
The resident started talking to me about all the problems that could cause, in a very condescending tone as Ben later told me she talked to me like I was 5 (which really ticked him off), and that I was not to push. Between me yelling at her (well...it felt like I was yelling, but Ben said I never really got all that loud. Ha!) that I wanted to push, I heard my nurse asking if she should page my OB while she was also encouraging me to breathe because those "contractions are moving your baby down; you're almost ready to see her."
"I want to push! Oh my gosh, I'm gonna push!"
The resident kept telling me not to push, while I watched her get all her scrub gear on (seeing her get ready seriously felt like an out of body experience: I barely had my eyes open so my vision was a little hazy.), the nurse kept encouraging me while also asking if she should page my OB, and Ben held my hand while encouraging me. Eventually it turned into:
"I'm not pushing but this baby is coming! I'm not trying to push!"
The resident was still telling me not to push for some of that, my nurse paged all the scrub techs, baby docs and nurses, and my OB, and Ben continued being an awesome supportive hubby. (Though I'd be lying if I told you I can remember a word he was saying.)
From there, I don't really know what happened. It felt like an eternity: the period of yelling I wanted to push and all the verbal interaction between the resident and nurse in my room. Somewhere in there my yells about wanting to push became mingled with lots of hustle and bustle in the room. It also was filled with trying to figure out if my OB was on his way.
(I was later informed that I went from a 6 to 10 in THREE minutes. THREE!?! I seriously wish there was actual pictures or video footage to prove it. It felt like I wanted to push for at least a solid hour...at least!)
While everyone was getting ready for me to start pushing, the resident was also trying to get me in the position she was most comfortable with: my blasted back. And why does she think an unmedicated, laboring woman is going to just allow herself to be rolled onto her back? I again told her "I DON'T WANT TO BE ON MY BACK!", which happened to coincide with my OB running into my room. PRAISE THE LORD!
He immediately sat on my bed on the side I was facing, had me continue to hold my thigh, had Ben hold my ankle, and finally I was hearing the sweetest words to my laboring ears, "OK. Push when you're ready."
And the angels sang the hallelujah chorus for me while I finally was able to give in to the biggest urge to push anything out my bottom side I've ever felt in my life.
And it. felt. good. relieving.
I honestly don't remember any pain during pushing, aside from some slight burning - the wonderful, talked-about ring of fire - during crowning, which for me the burn really wasn't all that bad...I would not equate it to feeling like my crotch was on fire (<- told you I'd overshare). Pushing really felt wonderful, as in the biggest relief of my life, and knowing that my sweet baby was coming, as scary as the "what ifs" were, made it all that much more sweet. At some point, the resident finally got to do what she'd been pressuring me to do for hours: they broke my water. (I wonder if Aubrey would have been born with the bag of water still in tact had they not broken it.)
"It's clear!" many of the staff announced.
That information gave me such relief to know there were no signs of any problems as far as my amniotic fluid was telling. Only a short time after they broke my water was when I felt the ring of fire. Not long after I verbalized that "it burned" was I told they could see her head. Something in me wanted to know she really was almost here: I reached down to feel for myself. I was immediately shocked: my baby had hair! And she was almost here! The small act of reaching to feel her head gave me all the motivation I needed to finish pushing her out.
With two more giving-it-all-I-have pushes, Aubrey Kate was born into my hands at 15:06. All 7 pounds 6 ounces and 19 3/4 inches of her. I immediately and greedily pulled her up onto my welcoming chest.
And I cried.
Oh how I cried.
Wept.
She was perfect.
Absolutely, 100% perfect.
I could have cared less we were both covered in my blood. I kissed her. I looked at her tiny, wrinkled hands with femininely long, piano fingers. I cradled her tiny body as close to mine as possible while realizing her tightly curled body was almost completely held within my hands alone. I rubbed her back to stimulate her crying, continue to clear her lungs. Everyone around me, except for me, seemed worried about her not crying.
She was content in her mother's arms.
She remained calm as she lay across me, skin to skin. She scooted herself so she could nestle into my neck. She finally let out a tiny, but healthy, cry announcing her dislike for leaving the warmth and comfort she had known for nine months before this moment. Enough to satisfy all the nurses and doctors in the room who kept telling me to rub her back to stimulate her; though I'm not sure why they were so worried, as I found out her Apgar scores were an 8 & 9 which are taken at 1 minute and 5 minutes. (The highest an Apgar can be is 10.)
We lay there, no longer one entity. But I knew she needed me. For everything.
And I was made aware of just how much I needed her. How God knew I needed her. (Quite the same as He knew I needed Zoë in my life, yet so different in that the reasons I need each of my two tiny blessings - though by no means is the blessing itself tiny - in my life is so vastly different. But each as sanctifying as the other.) It doesn't make the loss, the gap caused by a child born into my Savior's arms, any smaller or less difficult, but it finds a way to heal the beautiful scar left by such a trial.
After they started Pitocin (Aubrey wasn't interested in nursing at first - they waited at least a good 20 minutes, too, before they started it - and I was bleeding pretty heavily), stitched me up, weighed her, and gave us all our victory bands (aka this baby belongs to these people) and her security tag (Not kidding. Every baby is given one so they can't leave the floor. And hers kept setting the alarm off which sends nurses into the room to make sure you're not tampering with it all the while everyone else on your floor hears some guy telling you to step away from the door because they don't want someone to steal the baby.), she was handed back to me.
I found Ben's eyes.
"Our rainbow baby is here. She's actually here," I whispered.
"I know," he lovingly replied, then bent to kiss me on my forehead.
Then I let more tears come.
And though I felt the sting of the loss, a sting that may dull over time but never be forgotten, I felt my heart stretch to open itself, making room to love my precious Aubrey Kate.
I can't quit saying it, to myself and out loud: I have a rainbow baby. I am blessed with a rainbow baby. My arms are holding the blessing of a rainbow baby. A living, breathing child outside the womb. (I may annoy you with how much I mention Aubrey being my rainbow baby. It's where I'm living and constantly consumes my thoughts. I apologize for my overuse of the label.)
"Our rainbow baby is here. She's actually here," I whisper.
The tears overtake me. Tears of joy. gratitude. grief. happiness. disbelief. love. The emotions are overwhelming, but I let them come.
I don't want to forget her big debut. Something in me says I never will, but I want the memory preserved.
Fresh.
As crystal clear as the day it happened.
Wednesday. February 5. 2014.
Leading up to the fifth I walked around in early labor. Contractions off and on for at least a week and a half. A few "this is it" contractions followed by lulls or no change in intensity. With every day my body would practice more, with more intensity. And each passing day found me drawing deeper and deeper into myself.
I began to internalize my feelings of wanting to punch anyone who tried to tell me I was going to make it...to my due date. I was also becoming very antsy as the room I had left to give was gone and being stretched to the nth degree. Not to mention I was constantly battling fear of "what ifs" which seemed ten times larger in the face of the Fact: Aubrey would be our rainbow baby.
"Lord, please bring Aubrey here safe and sound. And would you please have her come soon? I feel like my body can't handle too much more of this," I constantly prayed.
I was so anxious for "the real deal" each contraction automatically sent me into hoping this would be the time. I wanted her here so desperately I would even randomly toy with ideas of inducing labor. Only for a split second, but they still seemed slightly appealing. Anything to hold my sweet Aubrey in my arms.
Thankfully, I waited.
I woke around 4 am on the fifth with contractions similar to those I would experience between my "normal" Braxton-Hicks: like mild cramps. They seemed to be coming pretty regularly as I took my usual 500th middle of the night bathroom run and then lay in bed wide eyed with excitement. Somewhere in there I convinced myself to go back to sleep. I knew I would need it whether or not it was the real deal.
By 6 the intensity was picking up and they were coming so close together any hope of further sleep was out of the picture. They were coming every 2 to 3 minutes, though I wasn't aware of it at the time. Part of me was too afraid to voice it being the real deal: I had experienced two runs with 6+ hours of Braxton-Hicks when I was pregnant with Zoë. The second ended up becoming her birth story, but it was everything I was trying to avoid this go round.
"What if this was just a different version of my Braxton-Hicks situation with Zoë?" I thought.
Yet, I didn't want to be caught giving birth at home (some people don't mind but that has no appeal to me, especially considering I live in an apartment complex) so I told Ben I was going to shower and wanted him to track contractions with my phone.
"Don't get too excited," I said. "It's probably not anything...but I just want to be sure."
That was when we realized how close they were. And they weren't letting up. Nothing was stopping them and walking only made them stronger.
It was then I began getting snappy as my mom, who thankfully had arrived in town two days earlier so we could spend time prebaby's arrival, and Ben were both getting excited. Can't say I would change my snappiness either: what woman in labor wants to be asked if she's in labor? Or have jokes cracked at as she leans against a wall because it's the most comfortable way to go with the contraction? Or have a question asked that just seems plain stupid?
I found myself wanting to be left alone, yet my 23 month old was following me around, we were still trying to pack our bags, and I wanted to make sure I ate before we left as I knew full well I wouldn't be able to eat anything after arriving at the hospital (for which I am very glad looking back). The feeling of drawing deeper into myself became really strong. It took everything in me not to snap at my child who was being highly needy; I'm sure her neediness was correlated to my labor. I didn't even try to control my snappiness when it came to my hubby or my mom. (Man does he love me! And my mom...well that goes without saying. She put up with raising me :])
About an hour later, Ben had all our bags and my pillows (the back seat could have made a comfy bed for someone who wasn't in labor) in the car, we had both put in a decent meal, we kissed our first born good-bye, and told my mom not to call us unless it was an emergency and to tell no one we had gone to the hospital. "Oh! That's going to be so hard!" were her words as I waddled out the door hating the Houston traffic I knew we were getting ready to drive into.
Ben did an excellent job of getting us through the traffic in less than an hours time. Without making me yell at him because of discomfort too. I'm pretty sure the only raising of a voice during that ride was when my chapstick was lossed for what seemed like forever, but was probably more like a mere accumulation of maybe...oh, 5 seconds. I had to have my chapstick! (Pretty sure I used that chapstick at least 349209184 times during labor, too.)
Unfortunately, his driving did nothing for the stress all the traffic caused me. Which seemed to pull a number on my body and I could barely feel my contractions. I kept telling Ben I was not going to be happy if I had been in some period-like discomfort all morning (I wish I could have plugged my heating pad in in my car...well, not really as it didn't sound comfortable, but I was wishing I was standing rather than sitting during several contractions) only to get to the hospital and hear that it hadn't done anything from my appointment the week before. (I was almost a 4 and 50% at my 38 week check.) Actually, I'd likely say some really not nice words. If practicing was going to change intensity to real labor at home, only to be scared off by the ridiculous amount of traffic Houston produces in the morning and evening rushes, I would rather keep this baby in. (Ummm...says what 39 week, uncomfortably pregnant woman ever?! Me apparently...)
Thankfully, Ben put up with all my nonsense talk. All the fear gushing out of me that maybe I'd read the messages my body was sending wrong. All the "WHERE ON THIS BLANKETY BLANK EARTH DID MY CHAPSTICK GO?!" (Yeah...I apparently get a little crazy when I'm in labor and lose my chapstick and can't find it when I need it. Oi vey.) All the "I really think I'm just going to cry if they send me home...I'm soo uncomfortable I don't think I can keep her in much longer."
We finally arrived at the hospital a mere 45 minutes later. (This is amazing considering we were in rush hour traffic and as far as I know Ben didn't speed ridiculous amounts to get there.) As he was pulling in he asked if I wanted to be dropped off. To which I snappily replied I wasn't sick and would walk with him from the garage to the assessment floor. So we parked. We walked. And thankfully I was taken back to a room in less than 2 minutes.
Of course, the assessment nurse starts asking you questions and since your husband doesn't know all the answers you have moments where you raise your hand while you work with a contraction. You almost want to tell them to go find the answers in their computer or just put patient wouldn't answer. And then the dreaded checking. They have to to admit you. And no one in a hospital knows how or is willing to check you without putting you flat on your back. (The most uncomfortable position for a laboring woman. Honestly, for a full-term pregnant woman.)
But I almost jumped for joy as I heard, "5cm and 90%". Hallelujah! I had my ticket in. This baby was working her way out!! (I should also mention, the staff at the hospital I birthed at was AMAZING!! There is only one person we interacted with I'd be ok with never seeing again. Otherwise, we were blessed above and beyond by our caretakers through the entirety of our two days.) We also realized, shortly after the nurse calling my doc to tell him I was being admitted, the reason I thought my contractions were puttering off was because some of them were so mild on the pain scale and in comparison to others, I could barely feel them. (Oh was I hopeful this meant the pain wouldn't get crazy intense!)
We talked and laughed between contractions. Ben held my hand and stayed quiet during contractions. Everything was going seemingly easy.
After about an hour we were moved to my labor and birth room. I knew we were in good hands when my nurse was asking me a couple questions, so I mentioned my birth plan, and I found she had already read over it since it had been scanned into the system. After talking with her a bit, I found out she has four kids and had had three of hers unmedicated. God was good and blessing me out the wazoo for this go round!
Contractions continued in the same manner they had been at home with the exception of them being closer to 3-4 minutes apart. Since arriving at the hospital they had seemed to pick back up. Yet my OB and nurse both commented on how I would bounce back as though nothing was going on after contractions. I also thought maybe I would be one of the lucky people who aren't too phased by labor...just maybe. At least, I hoped maybe labor would stay this easy. As long as I focused on breathing, the discomfort was really quite manageable. We even played a couple hands of gin rummy while I sat on the birthing ball.
However, after a few hours of "easy" labor, my contractions began to be really uncomfortable. I also became so nauseous I would dry heave with almost every contraction (thus the reason I was grateful I hadn't had any food since 7 that morning). Standing and slightly leaning on someone or something was the only position I found any ease to breath while my contractions did their work. It wasn't much longer after the intensity of my contractions changed that a resident walked into the room with my nurse and I asked to be checked. I was sure my body had made progress after laboring in this manner for a good four hours and feeling a change in intensity.
I wasn't prepared to hear I had barely dilated from the 5 I was at time of admittance. (Plus, that was horrid news after the worst pain being checked could produce. That resident...she was not considerate of the fact she was dealing with sensitive parts that were already sore from all the work going on down there. Sheesh!) Though it was a relief to know I was completely effaced. And to know Aubrey had at least moved from a +1 to a 0 station. (Even a small amount of progess sounded good to this laboring woman.) The resident, who apparently could have cared less about my birth plan, immediately suggested breaking my water to speed labor up. I looked at Ben who calmly told me I needed to do what I felt was best. After not much thought, I looked at the resident, nicely declined her breaking my water and said we would take a walk around the halls. She obliged and said she'd be back to check me in two hours.
Between contractions was a breeze. During them I wasn't so much a fan of knowing other people would see me leaning against the wall and Ben rubbing my back, but I could have cared less. Sitting on a birthing ball hadn't been helping, I really could have cared less about sitting by that point anyway, and I was in no mood to let the resident mess with my birthing plan, since there was no reason to at that point in time. I was still determined I could make it to the end.
While we were walking, my nurse came to find us because my monitors needed to be adjusted. (Yay for wireless monitoring; boo that they are required at the hospital.) By the time we made it back to the room, I was starting to feel really sleepy. I just wanted to rest as much as I could. I kept telling Ben and my nurse I just wish I could sleep. I really just wanted to get a little bit of sleep. I also had the urge to go to the bathroom, though I knew this was my normal "need to go" and not a "time to push baby out" urge. And after giving my bottom half less pressure to deal with (I knew I wasn't mistaken and about to push my baby out on the toilet!), I really wanted to find a way to sleep.
Though the bed wasn't all that appealing to me, I decided to try sitting propped up with my feet propped on pillows to get some rest between contractions. (As fancy as those hospital beds are, the foot didn't raise up to elevate my feet at all.) No other positions sounded appealing to test out, I wasn't comfortable even in the "most comfortable" (oxymoron, yes?) position of a leaning stand, so I could have cared less what it felt like to sit propped up with pillows, and though I had the option of a huge tub filled with water, I had no desire to be submerged at all. I figured at least I could
It wasn't long before I became horribly uncomfortable. Breathing was really taking a lot for me to focus on and my desire for sleep became stronger with each contraction.
Somewhere in there, my nurse came into the room to check on us. I told her I was really starting to feel a lot of pressure, though I wasn't having an urge to push. It was shortly after that exchange labor became intense. So intense that I began telling Ben I wasn't sure how I was going to make it. It was then my nurse set herself up in her chair and I had both her and Ben reminding me to focus on breathing (the hospital I gave birth at has a 1:1 ratio for patients to nurses. YES!). Ben kept telling me how proud of me he was and how great I was doing.
As each contraction ended I would
Somewhere in there I began to start feeling slightly pushy. I told my nurse who told me to let her know if I kept feeling that way. If I did we would need to call the resident back to the room. After a few more contractions feeling like there was ridiculous pressure, I was ready to be checked. Despite the fact it had only been about an hour since I was last checked and most of it had been spent with me telling Ben I wasn't going to make it while he and my nurse encouraged me to stick with it, I was ready to be checked. It was also encouraging when my nurse, at one point, told Ben I looked like someone who was in the middle of transition: I was hopeful I had dilated at least a few centimeters; she said I looked like I was an 8 or 9.
The resident came in, made me lie on my back (man I wanted to cuss her out!), and checked me. It was at that point I had no filter and yelled at her (well, it felt like I yelled at her, but Ben says no one outside of our room would have heard me) "YOU'RE ROUGH!" (I still die laughing every time I think about this. Me in my "normal" state would have probably kept my mouth shut. Me in labor - I say whatever I'm thinking. Yikes! And honestly, she was...well, let's just say I'd never want her as my OB.) And it was after that my heart sunk: I was feeling an urge to push, and I was only a 6.
Do what?!
I was sure, after hearing that, I wasn't going to make it. I was so upset I tearlessly cried (I wanted to all-out cry but as I was already so focused on my labor I don't think tears would have come had I tried to force them out) to Ben about how I wasn't sure I was going to make it. I also decided sitting wasn't doing any good, I needed and wanted to get off my back, so I rolled over onto my side. As I was pouting, the resident started rattling off all the options I had for relief. I'm not really sure what she said, aside from mentioning breaking my water again. So I moaned about how I wasn't going to make it while I pulled the leg I wasn't laying on up to my chest and was mentally wishing the resident disappear. I did hear my nurse encourage me to lay on my side.
"Just focus on breathing through this contraction. [I'd then say something to the affect of how I wasn't going to make it and there was so much pressure] That's your baby moving down. It won't be too much longer. Just focus on your breathing," my nurse would say.
Ben later told me she shut the resident up, who had begun promptly listing different pain management options as I rolled on my side, when the resident mentioned an epidural. Apparently when that was mentioned, my nurse looked her squarely in the face and told her I didn't want an epidural. I had had one with my first and wasn't looking to have one this time. (Thank you, Jesus, for an amazing nurse!!) He also told me he was really thankful the nurse was there to buffer and be a voice for us because had she not said anything, he was ready to not-so-nicely tell the resident she must not have read our birth plan, hand her a paper copy, and tell her to go read it. (And as much as I loved my nurse, I kind of wish I would have had a chance to see that scene play out...though maybe I wouldn't really remember it...)
After turning on my side, I felt something running down my leg. "Did my water break? I think my water broke? Is that my water?" Yeah...I was definitely in the throws of transition.
The resident, who was still standing there after her pain management discourse, moved to sit on the bed and told me to lie on my back.
"I don't want to lie on my back!" I emphatically told her.
She obliged to her laboring patient's wishes (FINALLY! THANK YOU, JESUS!), saw that I was bleeding, and with urgency told me she had to check me because she had to find out why I was bleeding.
"Great," I thought. "I'm going to have made it this far only to have something happen. Jesus, please let it not be so."
What felt like forever later I heard the resident say to the nurse, "It's because she's changing rapidly. She's a 7."
And then it started: an urge to push like no freakin' other. So much so I told the resident, not long after checking me, that I really wanted to push. I knew I was only a 7, but by golly, I wanted to push!
The resident started talking to me about all the problems that could cause, in a very condescending tone as Ben later told me she talked to me like I was 5 (which really ticked him off), and that I was not to push. Between me yelling at her (well...it felt like I was yelling, but Ben said I never really got all that loud. Ha!) that I wanted to push, I heard my nurse asking if she should page my OB while she was also encouraging me to breathe because those "contractions are moving your baby down; you're almost ready to see her."
"I want to push! Oh my gosh, I'm gonna push!"
The resident kept telling me not to push, while I watched her get all her scrub gear on (seeing her get ready seriously felt like an out of body experience: I barely had my eyes open so my vision was a little hazy.), the nurse kept encouraging me while also asking if she should page my OB, and Ben held my hand while encouraging me. Eventually it turned into:
"I'm not pushing but this baby is coming! I'm not trying to push!"
The resident was still telling me not to push for some of that, my nurse paged all the scrub techs, baby docs and nurses, and my OB, and Ben continued being an awesome supportive hubby. (Though I'd be lying if I told you I can remember a word he was saying.)
From there, I don't really know what happened. It felt like an eternity: the period of yelling I wanted to push and all the verbal interaction between the resident and nurse in my room. Somewhere in there my yells about wanting to push became mingled with lots of hustle and bustle in the room. It also was filled with trying to figure out if my OB was on his way.
(I was later informed that I went from a 6 to 10 in THREE minutes. THREE!?! I seriously wish there was actual pictures or video footage to prove it. It felt like I wanted to push for at least a solid hour...at least!)
While everyone was getting ready for me to start pushing, the resident was also trying to get me in the position she was most comfortable with: my blasted back. And why does she think an unmedicated, laboring woman is going to just allow herself to be rolled onto her back? I again told her "I DON'T WANT TO BE ON MY BACK!", which happened to coincide with my OB running into my room. PRAISE THE LORD!
He immediately sat on my bed on the side I was facing, had me continue to hold my thigh, had Ben hold my ankle, and finally I was hearing the sweetest words to my laboring ears, "OK. Push when you're ready."
And the angels sang the hallelujah chorus for me while I finally was able to give in to the biggest urge to push anything out my bottom side I've ever felt in my life.
And it. felt. good. relieving.
I honestly don't remember any pain during pushing, aside from some slight burning - the wonderful, talked-about ring of fire - during crowning, which for me the burn really wasn't all that bad...I would not equate it to feeling like my crotch was on fire (<- told you I'd overshare). Pushing really felt wonderful, as in the biggest relief of my life, and knowing that my sweet baby was coming, as scary as the "what ifs" were, made it all that much more sweet. At some point, the resident finally got to do what she'd been pressuring me to do for hours: they broke my water. (I wonder if Aubrey would have been born with the bag of water still in tact had they not broken it.)
"It's clear!" many of the staff announced.
That information gave me such relief to know there were no signs of any problems as far as my amniotic fluid was telling. Only a short time after they broke my water was when I felt the ring of fire. Not long after I verbalized that "it burned" was I told they could see her head. Something in me wanted to know she really was almost here: I reached down to feel for myself. I was immediately shocked: my baby had hair! And she was almost here! The small act of reaching to feel her head gave me all the motivation I needed to finish pushing her out.
With two more giving-it-all-I-have pushes, Aubrey Kate was born into my hands at 15:06. All 7 pounds 6 ounces and 19 3/4 inches of her. I immediately and greedily pulled her up onto my welcoming chest.
And I cried.
Oh how I cried.
Wept.
She was perfect.
Absolutely, 100% perfect.
I could have cared less we were both covered in my blood. I kissed her. I looked at her tiny, wrinkled hands with femininely long, piano fingers. I cradled her tiny body as close to mine as possible while realizing her tightly curled body was almost completely held within my hands alone. I rubbed her back to stimulate her crying, continue to clear her lungs. Everyone around me, except for me, seemed worried about her not crying.
She was content in her mother's arms.
Just minutes after birth (My hair was clean that morning...promise! Labor made me sweat like I'd run a marathon.)
First pic of Aubrey with Mommy and Daddy
She remained calm as she lay across me, skin to skin. She scooted herself so she could nestle into my neck. She finally let out a tiny, but healthy, cry announcing her dislike for leaving the warmth and comfort she had known for nine months before this moment. Enough to satisfy all the nurses and doctors in the room who kept telling me to rub her back to stimulate her; though I'm not sure why they were so worried, as I found out her Apgar scores were an 8 & 9 which are taken at 1 minute and 5 minutes. (The highest an Apgar can be is 10.)
We lay there, no longer one entity. But I knew she needed me. For everything.
And I was made aware of just how much I needed her. How God knew I needed her. (Quite the same as He knew I needed Zoë in my life, yet so different in that the reasons I need each of my two tiny blessings - though by no means is the blessing itself tiny - in my life is so vastly different. But each as sanctifying as the other.) It doesn't make the loss, the gap caused by a child born into my Savior's arms, any smaller or less difficult, but it finds a way to heal the beautiful scar left by such a trial.
After they started Pitocin (Aubrey wasn't interested in nursing at first - they waited at least a good 20 minutes, too, before they started it - and I was bleeding pretty heavily), stitched me up, weighed her, and gave us all our victory bands (aka this baby belongs to these people) and her security tag (Not kidding. Every baby is given one so they can't leave the floor. And hers kept setting the alarm off which sends nurses into the room to make sure you're not tampering with it all the while everyone else on your floor hears some guy telling you to step away from the door because they don't want someone to steal the baby.), she was handed back to me.
Took this pic of her foot, but that's the security tag.
I found Ben's eyes.
"Our rainbow baby is here. She's actually here," I whispered.
"I know," he lovingly replied, then bent to kiss me on my forehead.
Then I let more tears come.
The best we could get of the 4 of us
And though I felt the sting of the loss, a sting that may dull over time but never be forgotten, I felt my heart stretch to open itself, making room to love my precious Aubrey Kate.
My sweet, new bundle ready to go home
3.18.2014
Today May Be the Death of Me
Those were words I typed into my facebook status just last week. Words which didn't really hit me any particular way as they flew out from under my fingers.
It really was a rough day. I honestly thought if I wasn't careful that day could see me dead at the end of it. (Gee those last words aren't pretty to admit, but there really are days like that around here. Those days, thankfully, generally remind me of my great need for a Savior.) And while I wish I could say I typed those words out hoping they would offer some consolation to other moms who have had or were experiencing a similar day, I was truly selfishly thinking of myself, complaining to everyone of my current misery while simultaneously reaching out for any life saving device that could be thrown my way so as I didn't end up anywhere near headline news.
And though I'm not sure why I did it, at the end of that wearing day, I went back to reread what I wrote. The minute I read it, I was convicted:
I had quickly typed those words out selfishly, when in actuality, my faith necessitates this of me. Daily.
It really was a rough day. I honestly thought if I wasn't careful that day could see me dead at the end of it. (Gee those last words aren't pretty to admit, but there really are days like that around here. Those days, thankfully, generally remind me of my great need for a Savior.) And while I wish I could say I typed those words out hoping they would offer some consolation to other moms who have had or were experiencing a similar day, I was truly selfishly thinking of myself, complaining to everyone of my current misery while simultaneously reaching out for any life saving device that could be thrown my way so as I didn't end up anywhere near headline news.
And though I'm not sure why I did it, at the end of that wearing day, I went back to reread what I wrote. The minute I read it, I was convicted:
I had quickly typed those words out selfishly, when in actuality, my faith necessitates this of me. Daily.
"Then Jesus said to His disciples, 'If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it; but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it.'"
Matthew 16:24, 25 (also see Mark 8:34, 35, and Luke 9:23, 24; they're practically identical)
While the original intent of my words is not what Christ is speaking of, every day should be a metaphorical death of me: a death of me and living for Him and His glory. A death of all the ugly character qualities I possess which rub people the wrong way, even myself at times. A death of using all the "pretty" character qualities I have for my own personal gain. A death of doing what I want for my own personal enjoyment or pleasure.
But I don't wake up reminding myself of what He has called me to.
I don't take time to start my day asking God to help me to die to myself again. continually.
But I don't wake up reminding myself of what He has called me to.
I don't take time to start my day asking God to help me to die to myself again. continually.
Yet, why am I not? What is holding me back from living sold out to my God who gave everything for me so I might have an eternity with Him?
I'm not saying every Christian you come in contact with will verbally be radical in their faith. I personally believe some have the gift of evangelism while others are not going to show Christ in this manner. But what I am saying, and what I'm confessing I many times become apathetic in, is every Christian you encounter will and should be known by how they love. How they live. The day in and day out choices made.
And so while my original meaning of that statement was of a literal, physical death surrounded by pure selfishness, I hope to change the saying a bit and find it has become something with a whole new meaning.
How would I change it?
Today is the death of me.
3.17.2014
Stuck
At least, that is how I feel at the time being. Not that it's a bad thing; honestly, I'm such a home body, not leaving my home doesn't bother me a great deal.
Except when I feel like I'm trapped.
And right now, I'm trapped. Trapped by my lack of knowledge of how to successfully get 3 human beings out of the house before lunch or nap or, in the matter of a newborn, time to nurse. Not that I don't nurse with a cover in public. If you ran into me when our little family of four went grocery shopping this past week, you would have found me roaming Sam's and Walmart with a nursing cover on.
My problem is even if I wake before the girls, I somehow don't get enough of my own stuff done so that once Zoë has finished breakfast, and Aubrey nursing, we can skidaddle out the door.
So if you need me, I'm most likely occupying some space in my home. And unless I'm calling for help, don't worry about me. Just pray that I'm not forgetting some important aspect of caring for my home...like making sure we have food for the week. :)
Except when I feel like I'm trapped.
And right now, I'm trapped. Trapped by my lack of knowledge of how to successfully get 3 human beings out of the house before lunch or nap or, in the matter of a newborn, time to nurse. Not that I don't nurse with a cover in public. If you ran into me when our little family of four went grocery shopping this past week, you would have found me roaming Sam's and Walmart with a nursing cover on.
My problem is even if I wake before the girls, I somehow don't get enough of my own stuff done so that once Zoë has finished breakfast, and Aubrey nursing, we can skidaddle out the door.
So if you need me, I'm most likely occupying some space in my home. And unless I'm calling for help, don't worry about me. Just pray that I'm not forgetting some important aspect of caring for my home...like making sure we have food for the week. :)
3.12.2014
It's back...
...and I'm not so sure how I feel about it.
While I'm not complaining it's back, because it definitely is one of those "blessing in disguise" situations, I am praying against it helping in the undoing of my nerves. Which are worn thin from lack of sleep.
I'm aware those last two sentences seem like I'm complaining. I really am not. They are sheer fact in this household running on few hours of sleep. That is all. I promise.
And now I'm realizing I've left you in the dark.
What exactly is back? you ask.
Well, I did a small search of my blog and while I'm not sure I shared this craziness when Zoë was just a wee babe (my lordy I am no fan of how quickly she is growing! By no means is she passed the stage where I can call her a tot, but she really isn't much of a baby at all anymore. In fact, she adamently tells me she isn't one if I ask her "Are you my baby?"), I can asure you: we lived through it with Zoë and I'm reliving it with Aubrey:
phantom crying
And while I am ever grateful the true crying seems to be very minimal right now, starting because I think I hear Aubrey crying...man, that just undoes me. I'm not sure why.
Maybe because the phantom baby cries like something horrible is happening to it.
Maybe it's because the worry every mom has (yes, I'm about to vastly generalize but I'm pretty sure every mom has the worry I'm about to mention.) of whether her baby is really sleeping in their bed or something has gone horribly wrong is playing tricks on my mind.
Maybe it's because I'd almost rather it be real crying I could do something about rather than these purely mentally subconcious cries I have no control over at all, except for to remind my mind they aren't real, they're in my head. (ummm...do I sound crazy? Please don't send me to the psych ward. I'm just running on low sleep.)
But whatever it is, my nerves almost start pumping adrenaline and have me feeling like I could run a marathon in 7 minutes. And while I know I can't run that fast, period, I definitely wish I could get the extra energy it gives me on a constant pump. Without the low it also produces after the effect.
So is anyone with me? Please tell me I'm not the only mom or caretaker of an infant who has experienced this phenomenon. Because if I am, well...then maybe I do need to be seen by my doctor so I can avoid the mental ward.
Because I'm hearing it...again.
While I'm not complaining it's back, because it definitely is one of those "blessing in disguise" situations, I am praying against it helping in the undoing of my nerves. Which are worn thin from lack of sleep.
I'm aware those last two sentences seem like I'm complaining. I really am not. They are sheer fact in this household running on few hours of sleep. That is all. I promise.
And now I'm realizing I've left you in the dark.
What exactly is back? you ask.
Well, I did a small search of my blog and while I'm not sure I shared this craziness when Zoë was just a wee babe (my lordy I am no fan of how quickly she is growing! By no means is she passed the stage where I can call her a tot, but she really isn't much of a baby at all anymore. In fact, she adamently tells me she isn't one if I ask her "Are you my baby?"), I can asure you: we lived through it with Zoë and I'm reliving it with Aubrey:
phantom crying
And while I am ever grateful the true crying seems to be very minimal right now, starting because I think I hear Aubrey crying...man, that just undoes me. I'm not sure why.
Maybe because the phantom baby cries like something horrible is happening to it.
Maybe it's because the worry every mom has (yes, I'm about to vastly generalize but I'm pretty sure every mom has the worry I'm about to mention.) of whether her baby is really sleeping in their bed or something has gone horribly wrong is playing tricks on my mind.
Maybe it's because I'd almost rather it be real crying I could do something about rather than these purely mentally subconcious cries I have no control over at all, except for to remind my mind they aren't real, they're in my head. (ummm...do I sound crazy? Please don't send me to the psych ward. I'm just running on low sleep.)
But whatever it is, my nerves almost start pumping adrenaline and have me feeling like I could run a marathon in 7 minutes. And while I know I can't run that fast, period, I definitely wish I could get the extra energy it gives me on a constant pump. Without the low it also produces after the effect.
So is anyone with me? Please tell me I'm not the only mom or caretaker of an infant who has experienced this phenomenon. Because if I am, well...then maybe I do need to be seen by my doctor so I can avoid the mental ward.
Because I'm hearing it...again.
10.25.2013
God's Grace Never Ends [Frankly Friday v. 10]
Grace, grace, God's grace,
grace that will pardon and cleanse within;
grace, grace, God's grace,
grace that is greater than all our sin!
I cannot get the refrain for the hymn "Grace Greater Than Our Sin" out of my mind. The theme of grace seems to be coming at me from everywhere. No kidding.
I reviewed a book on grace. (There is still time to enter to win a copy too.) My pastor keeps talking about the topic. I'm currently reading a book on parenting, which though it's really an attachement parenting, secular book, is laced with grace. There are situations Ben and I are facing in which we have felt called to extend grace.
I mean I can't run from it if I wanted to.
(Ok...well I guess I could but then I'd be living in denial. I've been there. I've done that. It ain't pretty, builds a mountain out of a mole hill, and requires a freakin' ton of time to clean up rather than just dealing with it in the beginning. So not worth the time to deny and repair. Plus, I'm not welcoming horrible feelings. I get enough of those without welcoming them considering we live in a broken world.)
One of the most important lessons I am learning about grace came through the connections pastor at our church: Jesus, the ultimate example, never let go of grace or truth. He always had a firm hand on both.
For instance, take the passage of the woman brought before Jesus who was caught in adultery. (John 8:1-11) After all is said and done, Jesus leaves her with these words: "I do not condemn you, either. Go. From now on sin no more." (John 8:11 NASB) He extends grace by telling her he does not condemn her. (Please note, in biblical times, the Law carried a heavy weight and strictly enforced anyone caught in adultery be put to death. see Leviticus 20:10; Deuteronomy 22:22) This was huge in this time, and Jesus extending grace here speaks, to me, of it being a part of His nature. However, He completes His statement by telling her to turn from her sin: He holds fast to truth as well.
While the Law/Truth shows us our desperate need for grace, Grace sets us free to live knowing we cannot be perfect but produces a desire to strive to live rightly.
I don't know about you, but I think I'll be chewing on what my pastor said for a long time. I'm still processing it, struggling with it, wondering how on earth I will ever embody that statement at all. I know of my own accord it will not happen.
Oh, praise Jesus for the Spirit at work constantly in me!
Because I'm still thinking on, processing, chewing, mulling over this vastly incomprehensible yet partially understood concept, I don't know I have much more I have to share. I do want to share a note I jotted in my journal, something I feel God whispered to my spirit as I was reading One Way Love by Tullian Tchividjian:
I [God] never stop extending grace; the invitation is always open, always available, never expires. I will discipline sin in those whom I call My children [Hebrews 12:6] but I have never said, nor will I ever say, "You sinned too much: My grace is no longer for you, available to you." It completely contradicts the very work of the Cross, the work which I sent My Beloved Son to complete, and My very nature."
Umm...WOW! I still read what resonated in my spirit and find myself in complete awe. It makes me wonder if I've ever really allowed myself to feel the full extent of His grace. After all, I am constantly aware of my struggle to perform to please Him.
Last I checked, doing is fruit, not an "A+ you get in" card. "For it is by GRACE you have been saved, through faith - and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God - not by works, so that no one can boast." (Ephesians 2:8-9, emphasis added) A verse well known, yet I'm curious how many of us actually live basking in that truth.
Grace: it will wreck your world, in the best possible way...at least, it's wrecking mine, but I'm feeling the call to press in, not run from it: a holy wrecking.
10.11.2013
Weekly Letters
Dear Ben, this week hasn't been near as bad as I expected. I'm still no fan of your weird schedule which has you home late some days and early others, but can I really complain about it considering your early days are Thursday and Friday? The change in your schedule makes it way hard to eat as a family every night, but I am grateful you wait to eat when you arrive home so we can spend time as a family. I have a feeling this will be extremely important once Aubrey has arrived. Sometimes my fears of the difficulties make me wish we lived close to my mom, but I'm so grateful for these opportunities for us to build our relationship and our family, to begin to form tight bonds early on and hopefully continue until He calls us home. Love you best friend!
My Sweet, Dear Zoë, you are growing too fast. Would you please slow down just for a moment? I blink and it seems you've grown again, not just in stature but in the way you are interacting with life. Of course, you are building quite the will, beginning to pull against me when I'm asking you for something you need to give back to me. (This is usually because somehow your little curiosity has found an object I wasn't aware you can get.) And yet, as your will grows, so does your sweet spirit. I mean, how can I not melt when you walk up to my belly, pat it, and wave while uttering the cutest "hi" or "hello" (pronounced "allo") to Aubrey. Oh and when you say her name, every now and then you sort of get the "r" in there, but usually you say "Auby". I want to squish you when you say it; you're so stinking cute! Also, you completely made my day on Tuesday: I asked for a hug, which you willing gave one of your best, longest, sweetest hugs ever. As I was smoochying your cheek (can't get enough of those baby cheeks while you still have them :]), you freely gave me a sweet, sweet kiss. Ahhh!!! You may have a free will and really want to do what you want, but deep inside of you, even in the hard moments, is this heart filled with a sweetness. You are precious! I love you!
Dear Aubrey, I feel you move consistently now. I wonder if you're going to be a little ball of energy or it's just you trying to get comfortable. Also, I'm pretty sure you've had the hiccups several times this week. You must be practicing swallowing a lot in there. Wish I could see you open and close your mouth, but I know I'll get plenty of that once you're in my arms. I cannot believe I'm now closer to holding you than I am to the beginning of carrying you. Yikes! It simultaneously makes me excited and freak out as I haven't done much to "plan" for your arrival. Don't worry, we will be ready before you come as long as you don't surprise us! Keep growing strong, sweet girl! Mommy (and Daddy - he talks to you quite frequently - and Zoë too) all can't wait to meet you. I love you!
Dear Fall Weather, thank you for showing your face. I mean, seriously! - this is glorious! I'm not much of a fan of the fact the day warms up and I could be ok in shorts again by noon, but I am so grateful to wake up to a crisp feeling in my room and to open the door to be greeted by the cool morning air. Ahhhh!! Please, do not pack your bags. You are welcome here!
Dear Tapestry Group, I am thoroughly enjoying getting to know all you ladies. And though this may seem so very trivial, I am still excited we all decided we'd love to take our time working through Luke. Weight. off. the. shoulders! Now I feel as though I can dig a little deeper, not feel so rushed. And just the life we are living together, getting to know one another little bits, so fun! The dynamics of our group make me giggle with glee. And I must say I love we are all in different stages of life. So much to learn from each other. I know our year as barely begun, but I'm already looking forward to each meeting. I feel God has great things in store for us!
Dear Allergies, Go away! I'm sick of randomly sneezing, especially while eating. It is no fun! So if you would please pack up and let me enjoy the wonderful weather without your hindrance, I would greatly appreciate it. Thank you.
Dear Worry, I would like you to note you had no foot hold this week. God has been good and He is faithful. I am choosing to place all trust in His sovereign hand with Aubrey and the many other struggles in my path lately. Peace flows over me, taking me captive. You attempt to come in, but you're given nothing more than an opportunity to knock at the door. So while I know my struggle with you will not be over until I am praising God for all eternity, I would like you to note, you have currently lost this battle. And the war, oh, well...it's already won!
Great and Faithful Daddy, I am still basking in Your goodness, Your mercy, Your love shown to me in this past week! I have no words yet my heart wants to cry out, "YOU alone are good!!!" Thank you! You did not have to show me such favor at my appointment. You could have chosen this to be yet another trial to walk through, to trust You in, and while I still must choose to trust You in this wonderfully blessed area of my life, to have already seen Your sovereign hand go before me....THANK YOU!!
9.09.2013
Mourn With Those Who Mourn
*I am forgoing my regular Monday post this week. My heart has been heavy with what I'm going to share in this post. As such, I felt led to skip the post for this week and will bring it back next week.*
"...mourn with those who mourn."
I personally like the NASB translation:
"...and weep with those who weep."
Though, I will say that for once I like how The Message puts it in plain English:
"...share tears when [your friends] are down."
I share the different translations of this verse because my heart has been heavy. So very heavy that, though my friends who are struggling with the reason I shed tears are at least 5 hours away, I have been sad, shedding tears, and fervently praying that God would hear their cries. And sometimes I wonder if I'm crazy for feeling this way over a situation that I have never been through, but then I'm reminded by scripture that we are supposed to enter into our friends pain just as much, if not more so, their joys.
And so I have allowed myself to mourn for my friends who are battling the tough, no-known-end road of infertility. I have found my heart screaming out to God, begging that He might work a miracle in favor of their deep desires to be a Mommy. I have wished I lived closer to each one so that I could just be there for them, listen to them vent whatever emotions they are feeling, which may very well be anger or jealousy of friends who aren't walking that road, cry with them if they are needing to cry from the sorrow the painful journey brings, because even though I cannot understand, I most certainly am able to let them find a healthy outlet for their emotions in being their friend and listening ear, as well as do my best to empathize with them.
The word empathy is defined by Merriam-Webster as follows:
- the imaginative projection of a subjective state into an object so that the object appears to be infused with it
- the action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another of either the past or present without having the feelings, thoughts, and experience fully communicated in an objectively explicit manner; also : the capacity for this
After reading that definition, it clearly describes what Romans 12:15 calls us to do. For anyone, in any situation.
*sigh*
I'm sort of speechless...wordless.
My heart just hurts. I fervently hope for those who are battling the road of infertility to see an end of it with the miracle of a child.
I share this because I think we all need to be sensitive to where those around us are in life.
Are they hurting? Mourn with them. Comfort them if the situation calls for it, but know that sometimes, many times comfort comes most through a hug or shared tears.
Are they joyful? Enter into their joy with them, even if you are battling feelings of jealousy or covetousness because of whatever is bringing them joy.
Are they angry? Allow them to feel that anger, to wade through it so that they can dig into the hurt that is causing the anger
Whatever they are feeling, enter into it with them.
That is being a friend.
9.05.2013
Our Weekend [4 Days Late...again - Ha!]
You guys, my brain won't stop spinning. There are some heavy topics on my heart and mind right now. But I'm still wading through them. Trying to decide whether to share or if they are for my heart alone at this time.
Since I'm unsure if I should wade those waters with everyone or just with God, I'm going to give a quick synapses of our Labor Day weekend. It wasreally nice. so cram packed with activities and people I didn't get a nap and I just realized how large the bags under my eyes were in my bumpdate picture for this week. We enjoyed ourselves, don't get me wrong, but there was a moment I woke up on the way home to Ben batting his eyes, so I slapped him. (Please understand, I don't walk around hitting my husband. This man sleeps like a log thus it was the only way I knew to get him to open and keep open his eyes.) Just sayin' - that sort of gives a picture of how busy and sleepy we were all weekend. (Ummm...Ben wasn't sleepy until he sat down, however, I almost fell asleep standing up a couple of times.)
Anyway...
I don't have a ton of pictures to share, because our camera was forgotten when we went to meet with friends Sunday for lunch and packed Sunday evening, again with friends, and then Monday when we were with Ben's family. However, I did capture Zoë's first time feeding the ducks:
Since I'm unsure if I should wade those waters with everyone or just with God, I'm going to give a quick synapses of our Labor Day weekend. It was
Anyway...
I don't have a ton of pictures to share, because our camera was forgotten when we went to meet with friends Sunday for lunch and packed Sunday evening, again with friends, and then Monday when we were with Ben's family. However, I did capture Zoë's first time feeding the ducks:
That Goose...oh, that Goose! Thankfully all it did was hiss, but you better believe I would have tried to smack it if it came any closer.
I love that Zo-bug was able to experience baby ducks in her first feeding experience. So CUTE!
My precious sweet bug! She LOVED it so much!
Mama with her babies :)
Zoë with her Gigi and Daddy feeding the ducks.
Uncle Jacob is the best :) (I didn't get any with Aunt Laura. BOO!! :( ) They pointed to ducks. Zoë wanted to get in the water too! Ha!
Attempting to wriggle out of his arms for a dip. See those rosy cheeks? It was H-O-T!!
We laughed when we first got to the lake because before we could get out, the ducks were waddling to our car. Our car, you guys! They know what people mean. HAHA!
The rest of Saturday was spent with some of my side of the family. I was so glad to be able to see my Great Uncle and Aunt as well as my Grandmother. I unfortunately forgot the camera while they were there so I didn't get any pics of Zoë with her Great-Great Uncle & Aunt or her Great-Grandmother. :/
Zoë did have plenty of time to experiment with climbing stairs. By the time nap time was coming around on Saturday (so all of a half-day, mind you), she had figured out how to get up to the 3rd step.
She decided one of her shoes needed to be up a step :)
However, by the time she reached that step, she'd also realized just how sleepy she was and figured she might rest her head a little:
My cutie patootie
The rest of our afternoon was spent taking Zoë outside, hanging out, eating Cane's (YAY! The closest one here is about 30 minutes away, BOO!), and playing Settlers of Catan. (If you've never played, it seriously is one of the best games ever!) I did happen to catch a quick snapshot of my brother with his niece :)
Ride a horsy, ride a horsy, ride to town....
We also saw a frog while we were playing settlers. I'm not sure why, but I think frogs (not toads, please do not get those confused. Toads are gross.) are so stinkin' cool!
I have to say the weird capture of my reflection added a unique touch to this photo. Ha!
Laura, my sister, tried to catch it, but it was a fast frog :( No froggy capture for us.
Sunday we spent time with some of Ben's best friends, people he's remained friends with from High School. We enjoyed our time, headed back to my parent's for a quick nap, and the packed up to go hang out with more friends.
I have to say as great as Sunday evening was with our friends, it made me really sad that we had to leave our small group. I loved the small group we had back in Baton Rouge. Such a great group of genuine, Christ-seeking people. I have hope to find such here, we're already making connections, but I just was reminded of what we already had and were building that we have to rebuild here.
You guys, I had been in Baton Rouge a little over 4 years to get to that point. Relationships, especially Christ-centered and edifying ones, don't just happen over night. They take time. Lots and lots and lots of TIME. *sigh* I digress.
After group we headed to Ben's parents house where we spent some time with his parents and older sister before bed. (Ben's brother-in-law wasn't able to be there due to being on call for his job that weekend.) By 9 we hit the sack. Ben and I were both suffering from horrible allergies and had taken Benadryl. I don't think you could have woke Ben if the house was burning down. And it took me hearing a baby crying for a while before I bolted, with heart racing, wondering if I had missed my child crying for a while. (Zo-bug was has been teething for a while now and that night was no different. Poor baby :( )
Monday was spent getting ready, letting the kids play, and then we headed out to meet Ben's Aunts for lunch at Cracker Barrel. I'm not a huge fan, but I figured since that's where they picked and they had a wide variety of food, it would allow everyone to order something they liked. Though our time with them was short, we really enjoyed the time we were able to spend with them.
Sort of off topic, I wish I would have remembered to snap a picture of the adorable bag one of Ben's Aunts embroidered for Zoë. I would totally have her embroider stuff for the next baby if we didn't live so far away. I may still considering I know I will get great work from her. If you live in the Baton Rouge area, I would totally recommend her. Feel free to contact me and I can give you her e-mail she uses to be in touch with clients.
All in all, it was a weekend full of memories even though I am still catching up on sleep. Ha! Our time was definitely worth it.
8.29.2013
When You're Exhausted...
...it may help you to take a little lesson from Zoë. She's got it down on how to fully grab life by the horns and yet still work in all her beauty rest.
First, you stay up late enjoying play time with friends while mom and dad sit in a class.
Then you make sure to get a good nights rest, eat a lovely breakfast, and play well before lunch.
When lunch comes around, make sure you have kept yourself awake enough to eat most of it. Falling asleep on an empty stomach is no bueno as you will wake up hungry and more cranky than if you hadn't taken an early nap at all.
Finally, once you're feeling full enough, don't worry about whether or not mom takes you out of your booster seat, fall asleep right where you are.
Voila!
Prefect combo of grabbing life by the horns but not completely losing those extra hours of beauty sleep by staying up a little late!
8.27.2013
An Enjoyable Weekend
Friday night was low key. We went and tried out a mexican restaurant that recently opened down the way. The owner seems to be a professed Christian as scripture is everywhere. (Even on the towing sign, you guys! I wish I had a phone that takes good pics! Ha!)
Zoë was so excited her Gigi was here and kept saying it all afternoon and then kept asking her to do stuff with her while she was here. (I must make note: Zoë's version of "Gigi" is this mouth closed version because she can't say a soft "g" sound, only a hard "g".) Of course, Gigi spoke Zoë's love language by bringing her a book; it happened to be her very first Curious George book.
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Gigi being an elephant. Zoë had joined in but moves a little too quickly for me to capture it. There were elephants at the zoo, of course!
Saturday we ran to some stores my mom wanted to stop at. We happened to pick up Zoë's very first step stool. I think it's so stinking cute! She won't really use it much yet, but as she's starting to show an interest in where we go to the bathroom and wanting to wash her hands (mostly because of the BUBBLES!), we went ahead and bought one. I love it sheerly because it fits right next to the toilet, but if we want it folds in half, practically flat, and she'll be able to carry it by the time she's 3 or 4 to anywhere she needs it very easily.
While we were out, my mom and Ben enjoyed doing this Bungee jump thing at the mall. Zoë laughed while they went up and down and Daddy looked like he was going to hit the ceiling. Poor dear wanted to get on once they were done :( She loves to bounce. (Does me telling you that she's always jumping in her crib when we go to get her in the morning or from a nap say anything to you?)
Zoë also showed us just how much she is loving her new found confidence in walking as she will walk anywhere we are, not just at home. She walked through most of the Katy Mills Mall without tiring! Of course, she napped really hard as soon as we got in the car. Didn't even wake up when we ran into TJ Maxx for a minute or once we arrived home!
The rest of our Saturday was spent hanging out, eating an early dinner at Johnny Carino's (I think I could gain several pounds from eating too much of their bread. OMG!), and watching "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire" with my mom. She's currently going through the entire series on movie so it was fun to watch it with her as we're both avid Harry Potter fans. I don't think she's ever read the books, but maybe we can convince her too. :)
Though my mom had to leave around 10 on Sunday, she didn't leave without having some fun dancing with Zoë! Zoë got all divafied with some sunglasses Ben brought home from his works lost & found. (They'd been there since before Ben has been managing the store, which is coming up on a year.)
Then they danced around the living room for a bit:
 
(Pardon the blurry/fuzziness. My manual mode is messed up on my point&shoot, thus this is how movement is captured :/)
Zoë didn't stop asking for "Gigi" once she was gone. Made my heart sad that we don't live somewhere my mom can be more involved. Though she doesn't understand that Gigi had to go home yet, I think it's going to make it even harder when my mom leaves because she'll really get that it will be a while before she sees her again.
We all enjoyed our time with my mom/Gigi!
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8.23.2013
Frankly Friday [v. 9]
(Linking up wtih Amy from Taking Steps Home) :)
Let me be honest up front: if you have had a miscarriage or are TTC and traveling the journey of infertility, this post may be difficult for you to connect with. However, I want to remain a open with my readers as possible and because this is what has been playing in my mind a lot lately, I felt the need to hash it out, even if only for myself.
For those of you who are new here, I had a miscarriage back in March. (You can read all the posts I've written regarding this here.) Though that baby was a complete surprise and the timing of everything wouldn't have been so great, I had already experienced the blessing of a God-planned baby rather than my own. And I still can't imagine life without my little Zoë. (Who isn't so little anymore. :/)
Thus I quickly accepted the new life within me. I readily embraced it. I had my moments where fear tried to take hold of me, but I chose to cling to the truth of Psalm 127:3-5, "Behold, children are a gift of the Lord, The fruit of the womb is a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, So are the children of one's youth. How blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them; They will not be ashamed when they speak with their enemies at the gate."
And then I lost the baby at 7 weeks.
I was devastated. Shocked. Angry.
There were so many emotions that encompassed the loss of the little life within me. Even to the point that I almost didn't want to think about getting pregnant again. I didn't want to resurface the discussion Ben and I had been having before we found out we were pregnant - trying to maybe get pregnant closer to the fall. The fear of losing another baby was too real, too raw. And I knew all too well how much control I had over whether I would be pregnany full term or not - none. Nada. Zip.
That thought made me toy with the idea of never trying to conceive again.
And then, we were slightly surprised to find out we were pregnant. Again.
And though I slowly found myself warming to the idea of welcoming our 3rd into our family, I found some other strange emotions floating around in my head and heart.
For a while I couldn't quite put my finger on them, but the more I tried to figure it out, the more I realized what it was. And I found myself a little shocked, but at the same time sort of not, with what I was feeling: I wasn't completely ready to embrace the life I'm currently carrying because I still wanted to be carrying the one I was supposed to greet come November.
Maybe I'm alone in feeling this. Maybe someone who has had the same happen with them can relate. And because of some comments I've heard from others who have miscarried and then welcomed a life that was conceived not long after the miscarriage, I am hopeful that in time the Lord will help me to see the full beauty of the short life of my child born to heaven on March 20, 2013. I am hopeful that He will allow me to completely embrace this child growing within me.
But for the time being, I frequently find myself wishing I was further along. Wishing that I could know the child who I shared my body with for only a short amount of time.
While I really do find myself wishing that, I simultaneously hate myself because it means that I'm subconciously wishing away the life that I've begun to feel move within me. It makes me feel heartless.
But in reality, I wish that I could know, here on this earth, both babies. (No...I'm not asking for twins. The idea of two complete infants at the same time scares the patooties out of me.) Maybe that's why I find myself wishing that I was still pregnant with our second, because something in me thinks that if I was, then after that baby was born, I would later become pregnant with the one I'm currently carrying.
Yet, I am not God. I have no idea if that's really how it would work.
And in the midst of all these crazy jumbled thoughts I'll realize that by dwelling on this desire, I'm losing opporunity to pray for the life currently in me. I'm missing out on the opportunity to connect and care for my Little Bean right now. I missing out on praying that God would allow this child to be used for His glory and that part of that would be this LB would come to know Him at an early age.
My dwelling on the past and feeding on the desire for it to be different steals from the here and now. It doesn't allow me to fully depend on God. It keeps me from enjoying and seeing God working in my life now. It also doesn't allow me to see how He has worked in my life in the past. Nor does it help me to look to the future with the hope I have of eternity with Him.
It is a tactic straight from the pit of hell. And at times, though I hate to admit it, it has fully worked.
This isn't the only situation this has or can be used in. Really, anything we face that has a similarity to the past can find you in this place. Sometimes there don't even have to be similarites to find yourself wishing that wherever you are in life was a little different.
However, I hope that I'm learning and will store away the lessons I'm learning from this situation: you should learn from the past, but once you've learned what you can from them, that is as far as it should go. Trying to change the story that God is weaving will only leave you missing out on the now and missing out on being in the center of His will.
I don't know about you, but I really don't want to be anywhere else but the center of His will. Yes, my flesh desires at times to win out and I find myself wanting to just live life how I want, but I've already been there and done that, it is not fulfilling one bit. It is empty. It doesn't leave me with the peace I have when I do choose to whole heartedly seek God. It doesn't give me a heart that is still in the midst of turmoil because I know that when I'm fully seeking God that trials will come but they are a refining tool to make me more into Christ's likeness.
And so I encourage you: seek His face whole heartedly. If you find desires to be other than where you are creeping up, ask Him to change your heart. Ask Him to silence those desires so and to open your eyes to the story He is weaving in your life.
I'm not perfect, but I am hoping that this lesson will never leave the forefront of my mind. Or that when it seems to stray, God quickly brings my mind back to Him and how changing my story is asking to not be in His will.
8.22.2013
Sharing the Cuteness
I just thought I would share with you some of the cuteness that runs around my home.
I mean, look at that. How can you not just want to squish her?
Thinking really hard with the cutest little pony tail. Oh how I love her!
And I just can't get enough of all. those. CURLS!
How could I not share the cuteness? (I think I need to hit publish before I decide to not share it with anyone and keep it all for ME!)
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