Monday, December 23, 2013
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Mother-work
I have always wanted to have kids. I have always wanted a husband, for that matter. So, I can safely say that the life I chose is one that I always looked forward to and I enjoy, and I wouldn't pursue another path as long as I am able. That said, I have some thoughts on my position in life right now.
Mothers are pulled and tugged and demanded of until parts of them loosen. Gravity and mother-work start to pull on their bodies and their minds until both start to droop a little. I feel myself sag when my one year old refuses to eat for the fifth time that day. I can feel a spring pop when my newborn cries and cries inconsolably. My body, granted, is a few sizes too big from pregnancy, but it's still the wrong shape, and will probably never look the same again (although I hold out hope that with my current diet and exercise regimen, I can still be as confident as ever in my appearance). This is the cost of mother-work. This is the cost of bringing humans into the world and pouring out myself so that they can be built up.
I'm not doing it perfectly, and I'm sure that in some places I'm downright wrong. I'm as selfish as I ever was, just with more responsibility. I know that my children, at the end of the day, are free agents with their own unique desires, intentions, and motivations that could one day take them far from me - physically, emotionally, or spiritually. But I do hope that I can offer them everything they need to choose to be strong men of God, with respect for others and themselves. I hope that they see needs in the world that they can meet and that I can equip them as much as possible to do so. I hope that I can be a woman worthy of respect and that in doing so, I can teach them to respect all women.
I love being a mother. I love ruling my house and keeping order (or at least trying to). I know that, if I'm lucky, I'll be old and gray with lots of stories and advice to offer a younger woman one day. For now, I'm battling extra pounds and a child who refuses to eat and a newborn who will only sleep on his stomach and a schedule that I just can't seem to get the hang of. I'm blessed to be in a position where we can afford for me to stay at home and do this kind of work. I will sag and wear as my skin and my mind go a little threadbare, but I know I'm doing good work and I hope in the long run all these worn out places of my person will be a testimony of my effort, and I will have two good, gracious, and godly men to show for it.
Monday, September 23, 2013
Perfection
Well, I spoke too soon. I accused my due date of teasing me, so I have to take it all back. My water broke at 11 PM after a full day of what I thought was another bought of false labor.
There's not much to say about what happened. It was textbook perfection. My water broke, I started having hard contractions, I got an epidural, and had the baby. Apparently, my doctor actually took a nap while I was in labor.
I pushed for 5 minutes. From the time my water broke to the time I was holding him in my arms was 8 hours, almost to the minute.
Silas was born at 6:58 AM, weighing 8 lbs 8 oz and measuring 21.5 inches. We had an hour of skin-to-skin after he was born and they delayed his cord clamping as per a new hospital policy. He was fat and healthy, and he latched on perfectly the first time we breastfed.
They took him to a 'transition' unit in the NICU for about 8 hours because his blood sugar was borderline and he had some respiratory inflammation. His sugar normalized very quickly, and his breathing didn't show any more issues after that first hour or two.
At first, I felt a surge of frustration and upset that they took him from me, but I decided that I would not allow it to mar an otherwise perfect delivery. It was eerie to visit my son in the same NICU where I practically lived for almost 4 months. The receptionist actually still remembered us, as did all the security guards. I guess we made an impression to still be remembered after a year and a half.
We were reunited around 5 in the afternoon and continued living our fantasy of having an absolutely perfect birthing experience. Perfect breastfeeding, perfect bonding, perfect health.
The only annoying thing (besides our brief 'visit' to the NICU) was the sudden onset of a spinal headache which has lain me flat... literally. They think it's probably because I had to have two epidurals before I got relief. The anesthesiologist felt so horrible that the first hadn't worked that he spiked the second one with something WONDERFUL that made it work in a couple of minutes instead of another half hour. I have to say, even with the headache, I would have done it again. At least the headache doesn't make me pray for death, and it goes away when I lie down.
In the meanwhile, I am cuddling with my perfect newborn all day while my mom and mother-in-law take care of my sweet Elijah. Our little family has gotten a little bit bigger, and our lives are so much richer for it.
There's not much to say about what happened. It was textbook perfection. My water broke, I started having hard contractions, I got an epidural, and had the baby. Apparently, my doctor actually took a nap while I was in labor.
I pushed for 5 minutes. From the time my water broke to the time I was holding him in my arms was 8 hours, almost to the minute.
Silas was born at 6:58 AM, weighing 8 lbs 8 oz and measuring 21.5 inches. We had an hour of skin-to-skin after he was born and they delayed his cord clamping as per a new hospital policy. He was fat and healthy, and he latched on perfectly the first time we breastfed.
They took him to a 'transition' unit in the NICU for about 8 hours because his blood sugar was borderline and he had some respiratory inflammation. His sugar normalized very quickly, and his breathing didn't show any more issues after that first hour or two.
At first, I felt a surge of frustration and upset that they took him from me, but I decided that I would not allow it to mar an otherwise perfect delivery. It was eerie to visit my son in the same NICU where I practically lived for almost 4 months. The receptionist actually still remembered us, as did all the security guards. I guess we made an impression to still be remembered after a year and a half.
We were reunited around 5 in the afternoon and continued living our fantasy of having an absolutely perfect birthing experience. Perfect breastfeeding, perfect bonding, perfect health.
The only annoying thing (besides our brief 'visit' to the NICU) was the sudden onset of a spinal headache which has lain me flat... literally. They think it's probably because I had to have two epidurals before I got relief. The anesthesiologist felt so horrible that the first hadn't worked that he spiked the second one with something WONDERFUL that made it work in a couple of minutes instead of another half hour. I have to say, even with the headache, I would have done it again. At least the headache doesn't make me pray for death, and it goes away when I lie down.
In the meanwhile, I am cuddling with my perfect newborn all day while my mom and mother-in-law take care of my sweet Elijah. Our little family has gotten a little bit bigger, and our lives are so much richer for it.
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
You Might Be Nine Months Pregnant If...
You might be nine months pregnant if...
1. You punctuate every conversation with frequent complaints about how freaking hot it is in here.
2. You are down to only one shirt that actually covers your whole stomach.
3. Shaving your legs has become an acrobatic event.
4. You have to make an effort to get your feet wet in the shower.
5. Even your shoes no longer fit you.
6. You have stopped caring about what you eat and have spent the last two weeks subsisting primarily on dessert.
7. You could set a watch to your evening bathroom trips.
8. Your Google history contains lots of past searches that say things like "How to naturally induce labor at home," "Does castor oil work to induce labor," "Labor-inducing exercises," and "How to stimulate your nipples to start labor." (A sign that you are still in control of your mental faculties is whether or not you look up other women's horror stories about castor oil).
9. You start fussing at the baby when he decides to push on your bladder with all his might (I actually called my unborn innocent mean names for just such an offense).
10. You would give almost anything for the assurance that the terrifying and itchy stretch marks under your navel will eventually fade.
11. You surprise even yourself with the ease that you find yourself bursting into tears.
12. You weigh more than you have every weighed in your life, so you fantasize about how great you're going to look once you start breastfeeding.
13. You try to treat the fact that you reached your due date with no signs of labor with all the grace and stoicism you can muster, while counting on the unlikelihood that the little chap will leave claw-marks on his way out.
1. You punctuate every conversation with frequent complaints about how freaking hot it is in here.
2. You are down to only one shirt that actually covers your whole stomach.
3. Shaving your legs has become an acrobatic event.
4. You have to make an effort to get your feet wet in the shower.
5. Even your shoes no longer fit you.
6. You have stopped caring about what you eat and have spent the last two weeks subsisting primarily on dessert.
7. You could set a watch to your evening bathroom trips.
8. Your Google history contains lots of past searches that say things like "How to naturally induce labor at home," "Does castor oil work to induce labor," "Labor-inducing exercises," and "How to stimulate your nipples to start labor." (A sign that you are still in control of your mental faculties is whether or not you look up other women's horror stories about castor oil).
9. You start fussing at the baby when he decides to push on your bladder with all his might (I actually called my unborn innocent mean names for just such an offense).
10. You would give almost anything for the assurance that the terrifying and itchy stretch marks under your navel will eventually fade.
11. You surprise even yourself with the ease that you find yourself bursting into tears.
12. You weigh more than you have every weighed in your life, so you fantasize about how great you're going to look once you start breastfeeding.
13. You try to treat the fact that you reached your due date with no signs of labor with all the grace and stoicism you can muster, while counting on the unlikelihood that the little chap will leave claw-marks on his way out.
Monday, August 5, 2013
The Cabbage Patch: A Fantasy
I walk out onto the back lanai in the quiet hours of the morning. The morning is hazy with dew as the first lazy sun-beams sneak through the trees. I turn to the right... Look! A lovely cabbage patch! One of the cabbage heads curls open to reveal a beautiful, plump baby, asleep on the soft cabbage leaves. I lift the baby out of the cabbage and rock it gently as I walk back inside. That, ladies and gentleman, is how I will have my third child.
That, or I'll lay an egg, but the mammalian method really isn't working for me.
That, or I'll lay an egg, but the mammalian method really isn't working for me.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
What Happened on Monday
On Saturday of last week, I asked my Facebook network for prayers regarding this pregnancy. If you ever wondered if your prayers were effective, please continue reading.
On Saturday, I started having regular contractions. They weren't close enough together to cause real concern yet, but I was on red-alert. The baby almost stopped moving. The contractions went away.
On Sunday, I started having regular contractions again. I had maybe 3-4 an hour, and I wasn't supposed to worry until they got to 6 an hour. The baby stopped moving again. The contractions went away.
On Monday, I started having contractions again. This time, I had 7 in one hour and I promptly called my doctor. The doc said to go ahead to the hospital because it sounded like I was going into active labor.
They hooked me up to all the monitors and an IV and started running tests. At one point, my contractions were 3 minutes apart. I was starting to get really scared (who am I kidding... I was already really scared - I just got more scared).
The tests they ran showed that I had an infection that was causing labor symptoms, and if left untreated would have put me into preterm labor. They held me for observation for a few hours and gave me a shot to stop the contractions. I'm currently on antibiotics to kill the infection and my contractions have completely stopped. The baby is back to his usual, wiggly self.
I didn't know anything was wrong yet when I made my request on Saturday morning. I completely believe that God used the prayers of my friends and family to protect me and Baby on Monday.
Monday night reminded me that I still have a long way to go with this pregnancy. I'm 31 weeks today, which is 2 weeks earlier than when I had Elijah (33 weeks). We're really getting down to the wire on the window when I'm at the highest risk. Every day I keep the baby is a gift, and vitally important to his (and my) safety. If you have been praying for me, please don't stop. We need your prayers desperately.
On an aside, the attending physician who took care of me on Monday is the daughter of the surgeon who did all of Elijah's surgeries. So that was cool.
On Saturday, I started having regular contractions. They weren't close enough together to cause real concern yet, but I was on red-alert. The baby almost stopped moving. The contractions went away.
On Sunday, I started having regular contractions again. I had maybe 3-4 an hour, and I wasn't supposed to worry until they got to 6 an hour. The baby stopped moving again. The contractions went away.
On Monday, I started having contractions again. This time, I had 7 in one hour and I promptly called my doctor. The doc said to go ahead to the hospital because it sounded like I was going into active labor.
They hooked me up to all the monitors and an IV and started running tests. At one point, my contractions were 3 minutes apart. I was starting to get really scared (who am I kidding... I was already really scared - I just got more scared).
The tests they ran showed that I had an infection that was causing labor symptoms, and if left untreated would have put me into preterm labor. They held me for observation for a few hours and gave me a shot to stop the contractions. I'm currently on antibiotics to kill the infection and my contractions have completely stopped. The baby is back to his usual, wiggly self.
I didn't know anything was wrong yet when I made my request on Saturday morning. I completely believe that God used the prayers of my friends and family to protect me and Baby on Monday.
Monday night reminded me that I still have a long way to go with this pregnancy. I'm 31 weeks today, which is 2 weeks earlier than when I had Elijah (33 weeks). We're really getting down to the wire on the window when I'm at the highest risk. Every day I keep the baby is a gift, and vitally important to his (and my) safety. If you have been praying for me, please don't stop. We need your prayers desperately.
On an aside, the attending physician who took care of me on Monday is the daughter of the surgeon who did all of Elijah's surgeries. So that was cool.
Friday, June 21, 2013
I Wrote an Essay
Well, it's in response to an article that was written almost 2 months ago, but I have finally posted an essay that I've been meaning to publish. You can find it here on my husband's blog, Truth In Deed.
(That means it's a guest blog post. Fancy.)
I hope you enjoy, even though this is old news by now. Being pregnant and having a toddler is not conducive for keeping up with the speed of media.
(That means it's a guest blog post. Fancy.)
I hope you enjoy, even though this is old news by now. Being pregnant and having a toddler is not conducive for keeping up with the speed of media.
Thursday, March 21, 2013
Why me? Why him?
When Elijah was born, I found myself asking a lot of questions: Why me? Why do all my friends have perfectly normal birthing stories with healthy, fat bouncy babies, and I'm living in a nightmare? Why do WE have to be the ones who fight off life-threatening diseases and have to be hospitalized for days, weeks, months? What did I do to deserve this? I found myself examining my life, trying to find what I did wrong, identify what sin I was being punished for, see where my story diverged from everyone else's. My head was an unpleasant place to be.
Yesterday, I watched a report on missionary work overseas while my now-healthy little boy was climbing all over me and yelling in my ear. It was admittedly difficult to hear what they were saying over his cacophony, but I got the gist. There was a lot of work going on in slums of major cities, lives and souls being touched and restored in the darkest places among the poorest of the poor. As I heard story after story of people who live without food for days, or who die of exposure in the streets, I looked at my beautiful little boy and started asking myself the same question with a very different spirit.
Why him? Why is Elijah alive? Why was he born in a country where he could receive hundreds of thousands of dollars of medical care to save his life, while other babies are starving and freezing to death on the streets? Why was so much done to spare this one little person while thousands die elsewhere?
As I thought these thoughts with my sweet little boy playing on my lap, I resolved to teach him of his privilege, not so that he will feel guilty, but that he will feel appreciative. I want him to know how richly he has been blessed, so that when he starts to feel sorry for himself, as I often do, he can be reminded of how merciful our God was in giving him the life he has. I want to teach him, in word and example, that this rich life we have is not ours to waste or squander, but is God's to give to others. I hope I teach him well to hold our riches with a loose hand, whether it's our money or our time or the hope of the Good News that lives in us, ready in a moment to shower them on the hurting people who need them.
I don't know why God spared my son. I hope it's because of the person he will become. I hope it's because he will have much to give the world and that he will give it freely. I hope I'm up to the task of raising him, when I fall short so often of being at all worthy of the responsibility.
So I muse, pregnant with my second child at 6 in the morning on my husband's birthday, waiting for my son to wake up in a large, air-conditioned house in Florida, USA.
Yes, we have been abundantly blessed. I don't know why we have so much, but I do know what we're going to do with it.
Yesterday, I watched a report on missionary work overseas while my now-healthy little boy was climbing all over me and yelling in my ear. It was admittedly difficult to hear what they were saying over his cacophony, but I got the gist. There was a lot of work going on in slums of major cities, lives and souls being touched and restored in the darkest places among the poorest of the poor. As I heard story after story of people who live without food for days, or who die of exposure in the streets, I looked at my beautiful little boy and started asking myself the same question with a very different spirit.
Why him? Why is Elijah alive? Why was he born in a country where he could receive hundreds of thousands of dollars of medical care to save his life, while other babies are starving and freezing to death on the streets? Why was so much done to spare this one little person while thousands die elsewhere?
As I thought these thoughts with my sweet little boy playing on my lap, I resolved to teach him of his privilege, not so that he will feel guilty, but that he will feel appreciative. I want him to know how richly he has been blessed, so that when he starts to feel sorry for himself, as I often do, he can be reminded of how merciful our God was in giving him the life he has. I want to teach him, in word and example, that this rich life we have is not ours to waste or squander, but is God's to give to others. I hope I teach him well to hold our riches with a loose hand, whether it's our money or our time or the hope of the Good News that lives in us, ready in a moment to shower them on the hurting people who need them.
I don't know why God spared my son. I hope it's because of the person he will become. I hope it's because he will have much to give the world and that he will give it freely. I hope I'm up to the task of raising him, when I fall short so often of being at all worthy of the responsibility.
So I muse, pregnant with my second child at 6 in the morning on my husband's birthday, waiting for my son to wake up in a large, air-conditioned house in Florida, USA.
Yes, we have been abundantly blessed. I don't know why we have so much, but I do know what we're going to do with it.
Friday, February 22, 2013
The Pit of Despaaaair
I have been violently morning sick. Again. I was hoping to avoid it this time around, but no such luck.
I am trying not to completely despair. It's hard not to when food doesn't appeal to you, but you have to eat or you'll throw up, but you'll probably throw up anyway, so whatever... Hydration is a problem. I am worthless during the day. I manage to get the baby fed and dressed, and then I lie around on the sofa. Sometimes I lie around on the floor so that he can climb on me. That seems to make him happy, and it makes me feel better since I feel awful about not being able to do much with him right now. I told him it's ok, soon he'll have someone to play with all the time.
I have my first prenatal appointment one week from today. I'm far enough along that I'll be able to hear the baby's heartbeat, which is exciting. I have to remind myself that this is all for a good cause. Also, Elijah has been wonderful about sleeping through the night for me these days, so things aren't all bad. He only wakes up once to eat. I could kiss him - and I do. I make terrific babies; it just takes a lot of up-front investment.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Happy Valentine's Day
Dear Adam:
1. I love how you love the Lord.
2. I love your voice.
3. I love your smile.
4. I love your mind.
5. I love your beard.
6. I love that you don't play mind games with me.
7. I love that you don't let me play mind games with you.
8. I love your jokes.
9. I love your silly songs.
10. I love watching you play with our son.
11. I love how hard you work.
12. I love how you take care of us.
13. I love that nothing is ever too hard or out of reach for you to try it.
14. I love your convictions.
15. I love your touch.
16. I love a few things that I can't post here, so
17. use
18. your
19. imagination.
20. I love that you have a strong intellect, but you still know when to trust your gut.
21. I love that you can make (almost) anything.
22. I love that you pamper me when I need it.
23. I love that you make me a better person.
24. I love your confidence.
25. I love that you married me.
Happy Valentine's Day.
1. I love how you love the Lord.
2. I love your voice.
3. I love your smile.
4. I love your mind.
5. I love your beard.
6. I love that you don't play mind games with me.
7. I love that you don't let me play mind games with you.
8. I love your jokes.
9. I love your silly songs.
10. I love watching you play with our son.
11. I love how hard you work.
12. I love how you take care of us.
13. I love that nothing is ever too hard or out of reach for you to try it.
14. I love your convictions.
15. I love your touch.
16. I love a few things that I can't post here, so
17. use
18. your
19. imagination.
20. I love that you have a strong intellect, but you still know when to trust your gut.
21. I love that you can make (almost) anything.
22. I love that you pamper me when I need it.
23. I love that you make me a better person.
24. I love your confidence.
25. I love that you married me.
Happy Valentine's Day.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Color Me Crazy
Well, we're pregnant again.
Here are answers to some questions that I suppose you're probably asking.
1. 7 weeks
2. September 18
3. 17 months apart
4. No, it wasn't planned
5. Yes, we know where babies come from
6. Crazy? Maybe. Probably.
I would be lying if I said I wasn't nervous about this pregnancy. I wouldn't characterize myself as suffering from "paralyzing fear" (that would be too dramatic), but maybe a couple of notches down from "terrified."
I am nervous about everything that normal pregnant women are nervous about (miscarriage, defects, nutrition deficiencies, never looking like a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model again) with the added dimension of Knowing What Can Go Wrong. Knowing What Can Go Wrong is a terrible thing, and it just hovers over me all day.
(Also, may I just say that finding out you are pregnant is a weird thing. It's like someone came up and said, "You are making a person! How exciting! Oh, yeah, and in about 8 months you are going to defy the laws of physics by pushing an object yea big out of a hole yea small as you feel pain like you've never imagined. Isn't it wonderful?" Kind of a mixed bag.)
I've been trying to find an M.D. (no midwives for me this go 'round) who can deliver in my favorite hospital. I've been advised to request a referral to a perinatologist (which I believe is the technical term for a "high-risk doctor") as well, which should put me on the radar for all the things I'm at risk for (a long, long list. Basically, I have a 40% chance of it all happening again - but who's counting?)
In the meanwhile, I'm eating well and taking care of myself. I know a lot more this time about what is good for me. Also, my morning sickness is almost non-existent (I mean, it's there, but only in the morning and no throwing up). I feel a lot better than I did at this point with Elijah. I worry that it means the pregnancy won't 'take,' but whatever it means, I am enjoying not puking my guts out 9 times a day.
I am trying not to be afraid. It doesn't do me a lick of good.
The baby is the size of a blueberry.
Here are answers to some questions that I suppose you're probably asking.
1. 7 weeks
2. September 18
3. 17 months apart
4. No, it wasn't planned
5. Yes, we know where babies come from
6. Crazy? Maybe. Probably.
I would be lying if I said I wasn't nervous about this pregnancy. I wouldn't characterize myself as suffering from "paralyzing fear" (that would be too dramatic), but maybe a couple of notches down from "terrified."
I am nervous about everything that normal pregnant women are nervous about (miscarriage, defects, nutrition deficiencies, never looking like a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model again) with the added dimension of Knowing What Can Go Wrong. Knowing What Can Go Wrong is a terrible thing, and it just hovers over me all day.
(Also, may I just say that finding out you are pregnant is a weird thing. It's like someone came up and said, "You are making a person! How exciting! Oh, yeah, and in about 8 months you are going to defy the laws of physics by pushing an object yea big out of a hole yea small as you feel pain like you've never imagined. Isn't it wonderful?" Kind of a mixed bag.)
I've been trying to find an M.D. (no midwives for me this go 'round) who can deliver in my favorite hospital. I've been advised to request a referral to a perinatologist (which I believe is the technical term for a "high-risk doctor") as well, which should put me on the radar for all the things I'm at risk for (a long, long list. Basically, I have a 40% chance of it all happening again - but who's counting?)
In the meanwhile, I'm eating well and taking care of myself. I know a lot more this time about what is good for me. Also, my morning sickness is almost non-existent (I mean, it's there, but only in the morning and no throwing up). I feel a lot better than I did at this point with Elijah. I worry that it means the pregnancy won't 'take,' but whatever it means, I am enjoying not puking my guts out 9 times a day.
I am trying not to be afraid. It doesn't do me a lick of good.
The baby is the size of a blueberry.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Mommy MadLibs
1. The __________[noun] starts out so nice and clean until there's __________ [type of food] all over it.
2. It was a lot easier to __________[verb] with two hands.
3. I can't remember the last time I _________[hygienic activity].
4. The baby _______[verb-past] all over me ___[number] times today.
5. My _______[body part(s)] is/are so ________[adjective].
6. I ______[need] more ________[sleep].
2. It was a lot easier to __________[verb] with two hands.
3. I can't remember the last time I _________[hygienic activity].
4. The baby _______[verb-past] all over me ___[number] times today.
5. My _______[body part(s)] is/are so ________[adjective].
6. I ______[need] more ________[sleep].
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