Ok guys, this the first recipe I've ever posted. It's for my magic bars, which are a holiday favorite with my crowd, and it's sure to be one for you, too! Stay for the end, it's a real treat!
You will need:
One pre-made Graham cracker pie crust
One cup of semi-sweet chocolate morsels
One cup of butterscotch morsels
Half a can of sweetened condensed milk
1. Preheat your oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit
2. Place your chocolate and butterscotch morsels in the crust
3. Realize you accidentally bought evaporated milk instead of sweetened condensed milk (it's best if you do this before you open the can, but not necessary)
3. Spend 3-5 minutes staring at your pie crust full of morsels and try to decide it you have time to go back to the store (be sure to watch the clock for this part, too)
4. Check to see if you have the ingredients you might need to make fudge instead. If yes, Google "fudge recipes." If not, move on to step 5.
5. Carefully separate the butterscotch morsels from the chocolate morsels and put them back in their bags. You can turn off the oven at this point.
6. Congratulate yourself on being flexible and laidback, and eat morsels right out of the bag instead! You've earned it!
Happy holidays!
Saturday, November 5, 2016
Sunday, February 1, 2015
Things You Should Never Say to a...
I run into a lot of "Things You Should Never Say to a [fill in the blank]" articles, and I feel like they are dreadfully unhelpful to prospective well-wishers. I've been on the giving and receiving end of comments that really should never have been said, so I have come up with a couple of rules of thumb for the givers (and receivers) of comments in difficult contexts.
To Comment Makers:
1) Sometimes the best thing to say is nothing. If you don't know what to say... maybe you should just say that. Telling someone you don't know what to say is a heck of a lot better than making a comment that's going to be ringing in their ears for reasons you might not understand.
2) When making a comment to a new mother, prospective mother, or the mother of a sick or dying or special-needs child, you almost can't win. You don't know where she is emotionally or on the sleep-deprivation scale when you are talking to her, but you can pretty much guess, so anything other than "You're beautiful," "You're doing a great job" or sincere offerings to help is almost certainly going to be taken the wrong way. Just listen. Give advice ONLY ONLY ONLY if she asks for it, and even then, tread carefully, my friend. There be dangerous waters.
3) When talking to a grieving person, one thing he sometimes longs for is just to talk about his loved one. Yeah, everyone else in the room is squirming because they wish for the love of God that we could all move on and forget that bad thing ever happened, but if he wants to remember that person, sometimes that in itself is therapeutic. Let him talk and remember. It can make him feel better, even if there are a few tears.
4) Please don't compare yourself to your friend or guess what you would do in his/her situation. You really have no idea if you've never been there before what you would do, and even if you've had a similar experience, you are a different person, so for goodness' sake, don't guess or compare your experience. Your friend's grief or challenge is not a good moment for your own self-evaluation.
To Comment Receivers:
1) Put yourself in your friend's shoes for half a second and try to see things from his/her perspective. She is probably clueless, but she means well. So he told you that your loved one is in a better place, or he mentioned that your new baby looks a little like a monkey. Maybe she had a harrowing birth experience and she just wishes she had been warned and she thinks she's saving you somehow by scaring the bejesus out of you. Be gracious. Your friend is a well-meaning idiot, but unless she's being genuinely and intentionally insulting, it's a good idea to chalk it up to bad communication and move on, especially if this is a friend you like and want to keep.
2) On that note, do you know you're allowed to tell your friends that they've hurt your feelings or insulted you? Or you can even verbally disagree with them so that they can understand in some way that maybe that wasn't the most sensitive comment they could have possibly made. I think a lot of people take comments that have hurt them silently, then let them sit on their hearts and maybe even take it to social media to complain there, but never saying a word directly to the person who (accidentally) hurt them. Not good for relationship building.
3) If a stranger has insulted you, it's open season. Vent to your friends, add it to your "Book of Bizarre Exchanges with Strangers," put it on Twitter, or have a good laugh about it. That person's opinion by all standards does not matter. These are the same people who write comments on YouTube. Remember the judgments you make about others in your own heart that you happen to have the good sense not to say out loud and move on with your life. Everyone is entitled to their own opinions, even if their opinions are hurtful or ignorant, and be thankful you live in a country where we can freely speak our sometimes empty minds.
I have found that everyone is very different, and what comforts one person might offend another. Try to remember your empathy lessons from kindergarten and remember - a plate of cookies never hurt anyone's feelings.
Unless they are on a Paleo diet and you were just too insensitive to remember that about them.
To Comment Makers:
1) Sometimes the best thing to say is nothing. If you don't know what to say... maybe you should just say that. Telling someone you don't know what to say is a heck of a lot better than making a comment that's going to be ringing in their ears for reasons you might not understand.
2) When making a comment to a new mother, prospective mother, or the mother of a sick or dying or special-needs child, you almost can't win. You don't know where she is emotionally or on the sleep-deprivation scale when you are talking to her, but you can pretty much guess, so anything other than "You're beautiful," "You're doing a great job" or sincere offerings to help is almost certainly going to be taken the wrong way. Just listen. Give advice ONLY ONLY ONLY if she asks for it, and even then, tread carefully, my friend. There be dangerous waters.
3) When talking to a grieving person, one thing he sometimes longs for is just to talk about his loved one. Yeah, everyone else in the room is squirming because they wish for the love of God that we could all move on and forget that bad thing ever happened, but if he wants to remember that person, sometimes that in itself is therapeutic. Let him talk and remember. It can make him feel better, even if there are a few tears.
4) Please don't compare yourself to your friend or guess what you would do in his/her situation. You really have no idea if you've never been there before what you would do, and even if you've had a similar experience, you are a different person, so for goodness' sake, don't guess or compare your experience. Your friend's grief or challenge is not a good moment for your own self-evaluation.
To Comment Receivers:
1) Put yourself in your friend's shoes for half a second and try to see things from his/her perspective. She is probably clueless, but she means well. So he told you that your loved one is in a better place, or he mentioned that your new baby looks a little like a monkey. Maybe she had a harrowing birth experience and she just wishes she had been warned and she thinks she's saving you somehow by scaring the bejesus out of you. Be gracious. Your friend is a well-meaning idiot, but unless she's being genuinely and intentionally insulting, it's a good idea to chalk it up to bad communication and move on, especially if this is a friend you like and want to keep.
2) On that note, do you know you're allowed to tell your friends that they've hurt your feelings or insulted you? Or you can even verbally disagree with them so that they can understand in some way that maybe that wasn't the most sensitive comment they could have possibly made. I think a lot of people take comments that have hurt them silently, then let them sit on their hearts and maybe even take it to social media to complain there, but never saying a word directly to the person who (accidentally) hurt them. Not good for relationship building.
3) If a stranger has insulted you, it's open season. Vent to your friends, add it to your "Book of Bizarre Exchanges with Strangers," put it on Twitter, or have a good laugh about it. That person's opinion by all standards does not matter. These are the same people who write comments on YouTube. Remember the judgments you make about others in your own heart that you happen to have the good sense not to say out loud and move on with your life. Everyone is entitled to their own opinions, even if their opinions are hurtful or ignorant, and be thankful you live in a country where we can freely speak our sometimes empty minds.
I have found that everyone is very different, and what comforts one person might offend another. Try to remember your empathy lessons from kindergarten and remember - a plate of cookies never hurt anyone's feelings.
Unless they are on a Paleo diet and you were just too insensitive to remember that about them.
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Dipping
I'm starting to dip. I really had a handle on things and had taken ownership of the crushing loneliness of being a stay-at-home mom. I had events, I had plans, I had a schedule... but now I'm starting to dip again.
How the heck to women do this? How do they enjoy doing this? I want to be an active force in my children's lives, I want to be there for them, but for glory's sake, why does it suck so bad? I can't finish a book, an article, even a thought. I haven't done something that I enjoy in months. At least the holidays are coming soon.
How the heck to women do this? How do they enjoy doing this? I want to be an active force in my children's lives, I want to be there for them, but for glory's sake, why does it suck so bad? I can't finish a book, an article, even a thought. I haven't done something that I enjoy in months. At least the holidays are coming soon.
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
A God Post
This is a God post. That means it's about God. If you are one of my many beloved friends who does not believe in God, then I hope you still enjoy this post, if nothing else for academic interest or entertainment. It's also a good little glimpse into my life, so you can take it for what it is.
---
Having children has taught me a lot about God.
The children aren't like God, of course. No: in this metaphor, I'm the one in God's shoes, and my children are in mine.
I'm not saying I'm God. Just hear me out.
Children are little beasts. Lovely, wild monsters who remind me alternately of hamsters one minute and zombies the next. I made them. I mean, I had help, but you know what I mean. They didn't exist, then I did some stuff, then they existed. They had no clothes, no skills, no language. They were little blobs of ecto-goo. I loved them into being, and they didn't have a single good thing to say to me. They cried and complained and demanded every minute of every day and never once said they loved me.
I know. "DUH."
Well, I knew it would be like that, but I didn't KNOW it would be like that. I knew in my head what I did not know yet in my body. I didn't know what it was like to mourn those hours of sleep as I stumbled once more down the hall to feed them, and I didn't know that sinking terror that would grip me when they slept just a little too long, waking them up anyway as I had to - had to - peek in on them to make sure they were still breathing. I didn't know a lot of things.
They demand food. Then, they demand different food. Then, they are wet. Again. They spit up on themselves. Again. They are crying for some indiscernible reason. Again. They are refusing to sleep as their little heads loll to the side and then jerk back up with a cry. Again.
I have met true, unconditional love, and it looks like wiping up huge smatters of poop at 2 in the morning and replacing all the bedding.
This isn't to complain about motherhood. As I've mentioned before, I rather like it.
I just can't help seeing myself in them.
When I put my proverbial hand on the hot stove, I get burned and then it makes sense why I was told not to do that. Until the next time, when I forget and do it again.
I throw temper tantrums and pout in the corner.
I demand and yell, "NO!"
I wail that I don't have this thing, now - forgetting all the good things I have and every gift that's been given to me.
I don't want THIS food. I want different food. I don't want to drink. I don't want to go there.
I. Am. A Little. Kid.
I would be a sorry excuse for a god, and that is what strikes me the most. He deals with all my childishness, and still has more grace, more mercy, more love.
I have lost my temper. I have spoken harshly. I have done things wrong, that I wish I hadn't. I have not been diligent at disciplining and teaching and guiding and loving, but God does all those things for me. He gave me life, he provides for everything for me, and I do things that not only hurt him, but are an affront to him. They grieve him, the way I am grieved when my child denies the things that give him life and keep him safe.
And so I am learning, daily, to remember God when I am weary and ask him to cut me an extra slice of grace.
---
Having children has taught me a lot about God.
The children aren't like God, of course. No: in this metaphor, I'm the one in God's shoes, and my children are in mine.
I'm not saying I'm God. Just hear me out.
Children are little beasts. Lovely, wild monsters who remind me alternately of hamsters one minute and zombies the next. I made them. I mean, I had help, but you know what I mean. They didn't exist, then I did some stuff, then they existed. They had no clothes, no skills, no language. They were little blobs of ecto-goo. I loved them into being, and they didn't have a single good thing to say to me. They cried and complained and demanded every minute of every day and never once said they loved me.
I know. "DUH."
Well, I knew it would be like that, but I didn't KNOW it would be like that. I knew in my head what I did not know yet in my body. I didn't know what it was like to mourn those hours of sleep as I stumbled once more down the hall to feed them, and I didn't know that sinking terror that would grip me when they slept just a little too long, waking them up anyway as I had to - had to - peek in on them to make sure they were still breathing. I didn't know a lot of things.
They demand food. Then, they demand different food. Then, they are wet. Again. They spit up on themselves. Again. They are crying for some indiscernible reason. Again. They are refusing to sleep as their little heads loll to the side and then jerk back up with a cry. Again.
I have met true, unconditional love, and it looks like wiping up huge smatters of poop at 2 in the morning and replacing all the bedding.
This isn't to complain about motherhood. As I've mentioned before, I rather like it.
I just can't help seeing myself in them.
When I put my proverbial hand on the hot stove, I get burned and then it makes sense why I was told not to do that. Until the next time, when I forget and do it again.
I throw temper tantrums and pout in the corner.
I demand and yell, "NO!"
I wail that I don't have this thing, now - forgetting all the good things I have and every gift that's been given to me.
I don't want THIS food. I want different food. I don't want to drink. I don't want to go there.
I. Am. A Little. Kid.
I would be a sorry excuse for a god, and that is what strikes me the most. He deals with all my childishness, and still has more grace, more mercy, more love.
I have lost my temper. I have spoken harshly. I have done things wrong, that I wish I hadn't. I have not been diligent at disciplining and teaching and guiding and loving, but God does all those things for me. He gave me life, he provides for everything for me, and I do things that not only hurt him, but are an affront to him. They grieve him, the way I am grieved when my child denies the things that give him life and keep him safe.
And so I am learning, daily, to remember God when I am weary and ask him to cut me an extra slice of grace.
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].
Monday, December 24, 2012
Days 22 and 23
Day 22: Created Women
Their mission: Created Women is a ministry in Tampa that focuses on women who are caught in prostitution or other sex industry and offers them a way out of the industry and a saving relationship with Jesus Christ. I urge you to watch the introductory video to their website. It really explains their vision way better than I think I could.
What you can do: Created has a many-sided approach to giving women an identity in Christ and a relationship with their community. It offers part-time work at several "micro-businesses," and there is a year-long residency program at a home for personal restoration called "The Sanctuary." $500 a month pays for one woman's residency. You can give either a one-time amount or make a monthly commitment.
Day 23: Final Day
Well, today is Christmas Eve, and I'm going to call this project complete. I feel good about the coverage I've given to the non-profits I mentioned, although I know there are many more that I would have liked to profile. I have just one last statement to make before I go put on reindeer antlers and make faces at the Baby.
Please make giving a part of your life. Don't just give because it's Christmas and you feel bad when you hear about hurricane victims or the homeless or the starving or the slaves or the oppressed while you eat turkey and open presents in a warm house. These people are hurting year-round. However bad things are for you, there's someone who has it worse.
If none of these programs spoke to you, find something that does. If you become the sort of person who gives of himself or herself, you will like yourself more. That's just the way it works. You could be the nicest person in the world with a robust self-esteem, but you will still feel better just for giving. Give your stuff, buy stuff to give, give your money. You know, that green stuff people kill for. Think of everything you earn in terms of what you will give away. Your life and our country would be better for it.
Christians: this is not an option. Give to what you care about, give to what God calls you to give, give what you can, give more than you "can." Change you life to be able to give more. This is our calling, and we can meet it with a cheerful heart!
I will probably not be back on until after the New Year, so a very merry Christmas and happy holidays, and I will see you next year!
Their mission: Created Women is a ministry in Tampa that focuses on women who are caught in prostitution or other sex industry and offers them a way out of the industry and a saving relationship with Jesus Christ. I urge you to watch the introductory video to their website. It really explains their vision way better than I think I could.
What you can do: Created has a many-sided approach to giving women an identity in Christ and a relationship with their community. It offers part-time work at several "micro-businesses," and there is a year-long residency program at a home for personal restoration called "The Sanctuary." $500 a month pays for one woman's residency. You can give either a one-time amount or make a monthly commitment.
Day 23: Final Day
Well, today is Christmas Eve, and I'm going to call this project complete. I feel good about the coverage I've given to the non-profits I mentioned, although I know there are many more that I would have liked to profile. I have just one last statement to make before I go put on reindeer antlers and make faces at the Baby.
Please make giving a part of your life. Don't just give because it's Christmas and you feel bad when you hear about hurricane victims or the homeless or the starving or the slaves or the oppressed while you eat turkey and open presents in a warm house. These people are hurting year-round. However bad things are for you, there's someone who has it worse.
If none of these programs spoke to you, find something that does. If you become the sort of person who gives of himself or herself, you will like yourself more. That's just the way it works. You could be the nicest person in the world with a robust self-esteem, but you will still feel better just for giving. Give your stuff, buy stuff to give, give your money. You know, that green stuff people kill for. Think of everything you earn in terms of what you will give away. Your life and our country would be better for it.
Christians: this is not an option. Give to what you care about, give to what God calls you to give, give what you can, give more than you "can." Change you life to be able to give more. This is our calling, and we can meet it with a cheerful heart!
I will probably not be back on until after the New Year, so a very merry Christmas and happy holidays, and I will see you next year!
Days 20 and 21
Their mission: Mommies Little Miracles is a preemie advocate and support group for parents of preemies in the Tampa Bay and surrounding areas. It was started in 2008, and I discovered them a couple of months after Elijah was released from the hospital. They are an incredible resource for parents who are navigating life during and after their NICU experience. We meet once a month to chat and share our experiences (and to simply unwind), and I have been so incredibly blessed to have so many moms who have been through a similar experience as I. They host parent "social nights" at a local hospital to give parents in the NICU a chance to meet each other and get their minds off of their situation, and they host an annual baby shower at the same hospital to benefit mothers who most likely never had a baby shower before having to unexpectedly give birth.
What you can do: You can donate money, (their website is still getting sorted out, but you can contact them easily enough) but you can also donate new baby gifts (clothes, towels, bathtubs... anything parents need for their infants) for their baby shower and other events. And this is just for the Tampa Area. If you have a heart for the NICU family, there are organizations all over the place that offer support for parents of premature and sick children, as well as bereaved parents. If you want to support these efforts, all you have to do is a little research to see what you can do in your area.
Their mission: RZIM states it's mission as, "to reach and challenge those who shape the ideas of a culture with the credibility of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Distinctive in its strong evangelistic and apologetic foundation, the ministry of RZIM is intended to touch both the heart and the intellect of the thinkers and influencers of society through the support of the visionary leadership of Ravi Zacharias." As a Christian and a student, I appreciate the academic and apologetic support of Christian beliefs, which is what Ravi Zacharias and his associates provide. Ravi Zacharias is a brilliant speaker and apologist, and the resource that he is to the Christian community is incredibly valuable. My husband and I have benefited from his many speeches and from those of the other speakers in his ministry. Their vision says it all: "to build a team with a fivefold thrust of evangelism, apologetics, spiritual disciplines, training, and humanitarian support so that the mandate of I Peter 3:15 might be fulfilled: to set apart Christ in our hearts as Lord and always be prepared to give a reason for the hope that is within us, with gentleness and respect, all for the glory of God."
What you can do: Donate money! That's what they need. They have events all over the world, and their resources are available to all who need them because of the donations of people who believe in the work of this ministry. If you are a Christian believer, please check out Ravi Zacharias and consider supporting their work this season and in the coming year.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Days 18 and 19
Day 18: RCMA
RCMA is an abreviation for "Redlands Christian Migrant Association." They are a childcare organization that offer quality care and education to the children of Florida's migrant farming families. They are based out of Immokalee, Florida (which, oddly, is where my husband is from) and they have branches in many farming communities across the state.
Their mission: Their website explains their vision and goals - "RCMA opens doors to opportunities through quality child care and education from crib to high school and beyond.
What you can do: You can donate financially to RCMA, or you can give to their reading program. They have a great emphasis on literacy and English proficiency, since many of the children who come to their programs come from Spanish-speaking homes. Many parents who speak only Spanish depend on the English proficiency of their children in order to communicate with non-Spanish speakers, so the literacy and fluency of these children are incredible assets to their families.
Day 19: Your Local NICU
So, here is another shameless plug in favor of a topic that is very personal for me. I don't have a link for you, because it has to be based on your own local hospital needs, but here's a little background.
NICUs are really dreary in a lot of ways. There's a lot of pain, fear, trauma, and other awful feelings and experiences that sort of bring the place down. There are so many sick, tiny, fragile babies and parents whose good spirits are in a similar state.
There are many things you can do for a NICU, depending on the hospital's policies. One thing is just to donate. (You can also look at my March of Dimes post, and I will be posting about a local group that I am a part of later called Mommies Little Miracles. There are many such organizations across the country). Hospitals run through money fast, so a good idea is to host a fundraiser or drive or otherwise try to raise a good chunk of money. There are other little things you can do, though, that are really nice and mean a lot to parents. You can donate clothes, blankets, toys, mobiles, swings (AND BATTERIES!), or other infant things. Because these babies are so fragile, you probably don't want to give them your used things - germs get around fast in hospitals, and it's best to limit contamination. I remember one day I came into Elijah's room and their was a little gift bag with a really nice burp cloth wrapped in ribbon. I have no idea who gave it to me - there was no note or card - but it was such a sweet gesture that I will never forget it.
Some hospitals also allow volunteers to come hold babies, especially ones that need more attention than the nurses have time to give (Elijah benefited from many such volunteer visits. He would holler pretty loudly if you weren't paying attention to him!). The hospital might prefer former or current nurses to hold the babies, but you can check their policies. It doesn't take much to really brighten the day of a baby or parent who is enduring a NICU stay of any length, so please keep these families on your mind as you do your Christmas shopping.
RCMA is an abreviation for "Redlands Christian Migrant Association." They are a childcare organization that offer quality care and education to the children of Florida's migrant farming families. They are based out of Immokalee, Florida (which, oddly, is where my husband is from) and they have branches in many farming communities across the state.
- To provide quality child care
- To provide children and their families with support services
- To provide educational opportunities and improve the health and general welfare of children and their families
- To involve parents in the educational process and in public policy decisions affecting their children and families
- To increase public awareness of the lifestyle of migrant and seasonal farm workers and the rural poor
- To provide opportunities and encourage the professional development of staff hired from the communities served."
What you can do: You can donate financially to RCMA, or you can give to their reading program. They have a great emphasis on literacy and English proficiency, since many of the children who come to their programs come from Spanish-speaking homes. Many parents who speak only Spanish depend on the English proficiency of their children in order to communicate with non-Spanish speakers, so the literacy and fluency of these children are incredible assets to their families.
 | |
| Elijah at about 1 month old |
So, here is another shameless plug in favor of a topic that is very personal for me. I don't have a link for you, because it has to be based on your own local hospital needs, but here's a little background.
NICUs are really dreary in a lot of ways. There's a lot of pain, fear, trauma, and other awful feelings and experiences that sort of bring the place down. There are so many sick, tiny, fragile babies and parents whose good spirits are in a similar state.
There are many things you can do for a NICU, depending on the hospital's policies. One thing is just to donate. (You can also look at my March of Dimes post, and I will be posting about a local group that I am a part of later called Mommies Little Miracles. There are many such organizations across the country). Hospitals run through money fast, so a good idea is to host a fundraiser or drive or otherwise try to raise a good chunk of money. There are other little things you can do, though, that are really nice and mean a lot to parents. You can donate clothes, blankets, toys, mobiles, swings (AND BATTERIES!), or other infant things. Because these babies are so fragile, you probably don't want to give them your used things - germs get around fast in hospitals, and it's best to limit contamination. I remember one day I came into Elijah's room and their was a little gift bag with a really nice burp cloth wrapped in ribbon. I have no idea who gave it to me - there was no note or card - but it was such a sweet gesture that I will never forget it.
Some hospitals also allow volunteers to come hold babies, especially ones that need more attention than the nurses have time to give (Elijah benefited from many such volunteer visits. He would holler pretty loudly if you weren't paying attention to him!). The hospital might prefer former or current nurses to hold the babies, but you can check their policies. It doesn't take much to really brighten the day of a baby or parent who is enduring a NICU stay of any length, so please keep these families on your mind as you do your Christmas shopping.
Days 16 and 17
ECHO is an acronym that stands for "Emergency Care Help Organization." It operates in my home town and serves the needs of thousands of people who have encountered an unexpected emergency (Flood, theft, home loss or destruction... whatever has happened). "Since its inception in 1987, ECHO FL has assisted over 109,000 individuals, over half of whom were children, with the basic life necessities."
Their mission: The mission statement on their website is "To continue serving people in need of food, clothing and small household items in times of an emergency." They come alongside families who are in sudden need, and they also have homelessness assistance for those with long term needs.
What you can do: ECHO accepts monetary donations as well as food and material donations. You can also volunteer your time to their ECHO center. You can volunteer as an individual or as part of a larger group organization like your church, youth group, or community center (If you are a high school student or are the parent of a high school student in this area, this is a good way to get community service hours.) Please consider this ministry as you are preparing for Christmas with your family this year. There are many who have lost their homes or incomes this year who could really use some Christmas cheer this season.
Their mission: According to their website, Heifer International's mission "is to work with communities to end hunger and poverty and care for the earth. [...] With gifts of livestock and training, Heifer projects help families improve their nutrition and generate income in sustainable ways. We refer to the animals as "living loans" because in exchange for their livestock and training, families agree to give one of its animal's offspring to another family in need. It's called Passing on the Gift – a cornerstone of our mission that creates an ever-expanding network of hope and peace." In countries where owning livestock can make the difference between life and death, the gift of an animal can make all the difference to a family in need.
What you can do: You can make a monetary donation, or give even more by hosting a fundraiser or otherwise advocating and raising awareness in your community. Giving livestock animals provides eggs, milk, and a means of income to families who need it. Their holiday gift catalog gives you many options for what to donate: heifers, llamas, chickens, clean water access, stoves, and a host of other necessities.
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