A continuation of my reflections on the Beth Moore conference from a few weeks ago:
This was my biggest take-away. Near the end, Mrs. Beth led a time of prayer for the various needs she had discussed. One of the topics was close personal friendships, and so she asked women to stand - if they felt comfortable doing so - if they had loneliness and were feeling the lack of a close personal friend.
Ok. There are like TONS of church groups who come to these things. And most of them wear matching t-shirts. Which are mostly pink. That is unrelated. But you get the picture, right? Large groups of similarly dressed women, roaming around this place, talking, laughing, excited. Hyped. Well, like church-lady hyped. Further...most of them are white, 20s to 50s, probably middle class. And they know Jesus. So they have one big thing in common, as well as lots of other little (but still pretty significant) things in common.
And when Mrs. Beth asked if anyone wanted prayer regarding loneliness...a solid 60% of the women stood. I was not so much surprised as heartbroken. Right then and there, all of the air went from my lungs and I cried for the brokenness in that room (arena). I wanted to just grab one of my standing sisters, grab her and lay my hands on her so as to somehow impart some strength of heart. I have known that loneliness, that chill and trembling, and not too long ago either.
So then I realized...if this is true in this place, that 60% of these women are lonely, then it probably holds true for the people I see on a daily basis. It steamrolled me.
Who in my life is living this quietly lonely life, and trying to cover it with clothes and laughter and lots of words?
Who is desperate for someone to know, yet horrified that they would be found out?
Since then I have tried to be more aware of people, more open to interruption and inconvenience. Or, just...more open. And I've been praying courage for my sisters, that they would risk it. That they would reach, that they would reveal even though it's terrifying. Part of the fear, I know, comes from being hurt before in some very real and horrible ways. I went through a really rough season of life in which I believed my "picker" was broken. Lots of users, and no true friends. Like the children of Israel in Nehemiah, I had to rebuild my walls and gates, and it was hard work.
And then others just have really high walls, and their gates are locked tight and no one is getting in. I believe this is from hurt or fear, as well, and by my guesses this is where most of those lonely women in that arena stand. They are surrounded, literally, by like-minded women, and they're still lonely. And this is especially tragic to me because no one who would be a treasured friend is going to bust down your gates. You're gonna have to open them up yourself, even if just a little at first.
So, I'm praying for courage. For all of us. Because even though I have some good relationships, I can still hide. We can all hide. Be strong and courageous, my sisters, and let someone know you. Don't waste another minute.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Mrs. Beth
I love her. I got my tattoo because of something she preached on. She doesn't know this, and I'm not sure what she'd think, but there it is. Forever. That's how tattoos work, alas.
So when I heard she was coming to LR again, I was really excited. She knows her stuff, but she keeps a very real and authentic perspective on what her life has become. No nonsense with this lady when it comes to Jesus, but plenty of quite hilarious nonsense otherwise.
A few disjointed reflections on the weekend:
-- "The thing that is most important at the end, is most important today." A good reminder for this young mama to keep the end goal in sight during the many (sometimes mind-numbing) days with a toddler. So much potential in Jelly Bean's little frame that I must not overlook.
-- "Endure the hard for the sake of the good." God's way of doing things transcends our way. I grab for credit and glory and recognition. He literally "despised the world." This despising does not mean that He hated the world or, even, was mildly annoyed by the world. He loves His creation. But He never has and never will do things the way we do things. As such, I must always tell myself to "lift up thine eyes" to transcend the miry strategies of control and hedging that are my natural way. And I am (with increasing frequency) trusting that He will lift me up when the time is full.
-- Boundaries. My sister wrote a wonderful post on this word, and rightly divined that it is such a weighty and misunderstood term. I appreciate and am so thankful for her authentic journey. I offer the following as a support for her comments. Kind reader, please resist the temptation to see this as a rebuttal or, even, a response to anything she wrote. We love each other and support each other. :)
1. Boundaries are good and necessary.
2. Read the book by Cloud and Townsend. Many questions can be answered by investing the time -- even with the first 3-4 chapters -- to get a good understanding of exactly what they mean.
3. "I don't like you" doesn't equal a Christlike boundary.
4. Three biblical reasons to draw boundaries:
a. I simply can't (schedule, other obligations, etc.),
b. My help doesn't help, and
c. Beyond the boundary is unauthorized danger.
Well...the babe is stirring. I think naptime is over and it's time to fix lunch. I'm praying that you all have a wonderful weekend with family and friends. Take some time to reflect on how much Jesus loves you. He went to great lengths to have a relationship with you. Will you move in closer to Him this weekend?
So when I heard she was coming to LR again, I was really excited. She knows her stuff, but she keeps a very real and authentic perspective on what her life has become. No nonsense with this lady when it comes to Jesus, but plenty of quite hilarious nonsense otherwise.
A few disjointed reflections on the weekend:
-- "The thing that is most important at the end, is most important today." A good reminder for this young mama to keep the end goal in sight during the many (sometimes mind-numbing) days with a toddler. So much potential in Jelly Bean's little frame that I must not overlook.
-- "Endure the hard for the sake of the good." God's way of doing things transcends our way. I grab for credit and glory and recognition. He literally "despised the world." This despising does not mean that He hated the world or, even, was mildly annoyed by the world. He loves His creation. But He never has and never will do things the way we do things. As such, I must always tell myself to "lift up thine eyes" to transcend the miry strategies of control and hedging that are my natural way. And I am (with increasing frequency) trusting that He will lift me up when the time is full.
-- Boundaries. My sister wrote a wonderful post on this word, and rightly divined that it is such a weighty and misunderstood term. I appreciate and am so thankful for her authentic journey. I offer the following as a support for her comments. Kind reader, please resist the temptation to see this as a rebuttal or, even, a response to anything she wrote. We love each other and support each other. :)
1. Boundaries are good and necessary.
2. Read the book by Cloud and Townsend. Many questions can be answered by investing the time -- even with the first 3-4 chapters -- to get a good understanding of exactly what they mean.
3. "I don't like you" doesn't equal a Christlike boundary.
4. Three biblical reasons to draw boundaries:
a. I simply can't (schedule, other obligations, etc.),
b. My help doesn't help, and
c. Beyond the boundary is unauthorized danger.
Well...the babe is stirring. I think naptime is over and it's time to fix lunch. I'm praying that you all have a wonderful weekend with family and friends. Take some time to reflect on how much Jesus loves you. He went to great lengths to have a relationship with you. Will you move in closer to Him this weekend?
Thursday, April 7, 2011
If I Wanted To (Repost)
So I found the following post on an old blog, and since it reminded me of how things can change but still essentially stay the same, I'm sharing it here as well. I originally wrote it about six years ago, in January of 2005. I didn't know it, but I was to meet my husband in about three months. And we got married in March of 2006. God is good.
(By the way, I am now completely convinced that life is about the journey rather than the destination. But we would still do well to be wise and courageous.)
----
It started as a vow in some old tree house
You swore you'd never be your fathers when you aged
But you're all sitting at this bar wondering who you are
And you're becoming those at whom you once were so enraged
And a prison bar don't have to be too strong you know
It's how many there are side by side that keep you in the cell
The camera dollies out from where you're lying in your bunk
But the camera's in the prison yard as well
If you wanted to, if you wanted to
If you wanted to, you tell yourself
You could have - Is it true?
Did you want to?
-From "If I Wanted To" by Don Chaffer
The practical end of Waterdeep has been cause for a fair amount of sadness and bewilderment for me. What do you do when your favorite band quits making new music? Of course there will be solo projects, which I know will be amazing. But when I listen to the wonderful creation that is Live at the New Earth, it is bittersweet to realize there will never be another chance to witness their collaboration.
But I won't go on and on about that.
Just to say...it was Don Chaffer and Lori Chaffer's writing that has influenced me just as much - no, more than any other artist to date - to write the way I do. To be brave enough to write about real life, with all of its jagged edges and misplaced puzzle pieces, is something I strive for in every song.
Am I being honest?
This seems like a pretty basic thing at first. It seems like lying would be the thing you'd have to do on purpose. But how many decisions have I, or any of us, made from selfish motives we didn't fully realize until afterwards? Surely the heart is deceitful above all things.
Am I being honest? Are these words that I'm writing actually what I believe, or did I select them because it's what is expected of me or because I read them somewhere or because they rhyme? Is this the point I really, down to the bottom of my soul, want to make?
Because some days are great days. Clear and simple and pure...and the shimmering, crystalline happiness that is produced is really true to form. And other days are not so great, full of clouds and crowds and bad smells. And maybe even catastrophe. On these days I feel like I'm clinging like a wet spider to the Rock while the tormented sea rages around and over and onto me. I am not overcome, but I am battered, and that's what I write.
I'm reading Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer right now. He writes about climbing Mt. Everest with an expedition of about 15 people. Right after he descended from the Summit (which took him over a month to reach, by the way), the mountain was struck by a terrible blizzard. Several of his teammates were caught totally off-guard and a few of them even died. He originally joined the expedition to write an article for Outside magazine, but after the tragedy he wrote the book as well as a sort of self-induced therapy. So, I recommend. But that's enough background.
Last night I read about when he finally reached the Summit and was standing quite literally on the top of the world. Over 29,000 feet above sea level. He said that he had been climbing for such a long time that when he crested the final incline and saw nowhere else to climb, he was confused and disoriented. It was only after a couple moments that it sank in that he had in fact reached the highest point on the planet. And then, get this -- his very next thought was, "I'm halfway through." Some of his teammates spent over an hour at the top, snapping pictures and congratulating each other and crying. And using valuable oxygen and physical energy. One lady even required a sherpa to haul a satellite fax machine to the top so she could send faxes to her loved ones...! Krakauer sat there for five minutes, erected a flag his wife had sewn for him, and then started climbing back down.
When I read that, at first I was like, Come on, guy, give yourself a freaking break. Enjoy the moment for once. But then I realized that the persistence and realism that had to that point aided his successful ascent was also the stuff that got him back down the mountain in one piece. As a skilled climber, he knew this...and he knew that the real cause for celebration would be to return home to his wife and children alive and healthy.
I think I need more of that climber's instinct. I need to keep my eyes on the goal - the real goal - at all times, and anything that doesn't assist me in reaching that goal...well, like a long-time friend says, "Sorry 'bout cha!"
I know my ultimate goal -- eternity with my Lord, and the hope of hearing with these ears His sweet voice saying, "Well done. Have some wine!" Or something related to that. It's the more specific goals that allude me. It's like, I know what I should be doing, but sometimes I don't know what I should be doing.
Or maybe I do know, on some level, my specific goal. I just can't admit it. A good friend (and the best guitarist I've ever had occasion to play with, actually) confessed to me once that he was more afraid of success than he was of failure. Even now his words challenge me. Because what if I do go for it, and experience some success, and then I blow it? The greater the success, the greater the potential failure.
A misstep on Everest is so different from a misstep on Pinnacle.
But no climber can climb Everest their first time out.
Several of my recent posts have discussed a certain restlessness I've felt recently. At first I thought it had to do with the holidays, or with a tendency to lose focus. But I am now willing to say that what I'm experiencing is more than seasonal discontent. It's lasted too long and it is accompanied by such compelling anticipation. I am now believing that there is a new, higher mountain for me to conquer. May I prove to be a wise climber, courageous and tenacious.
(By the way, I am now completely convinced that life is about the journey rather than the destination. But we would still do well to be wise and courageous.)
----
It started as a vow in some old tree house
You swore you'd never be your fathers when you aged
But you're all sitting at this bar wondering who you are
And you're becoming those at whom you once were so enraged
And a prison bar don't have to be too strong you know
It's how many there are side by side that keep you in the cell
The camera dollies out from where you're lying in your bunk
But the camera's in the prison yard as well
If you wanted to, if you wanted to
If you wanted to, you tell yourself
You could have - Is it true?
Did you want to?
-From "If I Wanted To" by Don Chaffer
The practical end of Waterdeep has been cause for a fair amount of sadness and bewilderment for me. What do you do when your favorite band quits making new music? Of course there will be solo projects, which I know will be amazing. But when I listen to the wonderful creation that is Live at the New Earth, it is bittersweet to realize there will never be another chance to witness their collaboration.
But I won't go on and on about that.
Just to say...it was Don Chaffer and Lori Chaffer's writing that has influenced me just as much - no, more than any other artist to date - to write the way I do. To be brave enough to write about real life, with all of its jagged edges and misplaced puzzle pieces, is something I strive for in every song.
Am I being honest?
This seems like a pretty basic thing at first. It seems like lying would be the thing you'd have to do on purpose. But how many decisions have I, or any of us, made from selfish motives we didn't fully realize until afterwards? Surely the heart is deceitful above all things.
Am I being honest? Are these words that I'm writing actually what I believe, or did I select them because it's what is expected of me or because I read them somewhere or because they rhyme? Is this the point I really, down to the bottom of my soul, want to make?
Because some days are great days. Clear and simple and pure...and the shimmering, crystalline happiness that is produced is really true to form. And other days are not so great, full of clouds and crowds and bad smells. And maybe even catastrophe. On these days I feel like I'm clinging like a wet spider to the Rock while the tormented sea rages around and over and onto me. I am not overcome, but I am battered, and that's what I write.
I'm reading Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer right now. He writes about climbing Mt. Everest with an expedition of about 15 people. Right after he descended from the Summit (which took him over a month to reach, by the way), the mountain was struck by a terrible blizzard. Several of his teammates were caught totally off-guard and a few of them even died. He originally joined the expedition to write an article for Outside magazine, but after the tragedy he wrote the book as well as a sort of self-induced therapy. So, I recommend. But that's enough background.
Last night I read about when he finally reached the Summit and was standing quite literally on the top of the world. Over 29,000 feet above sea level. He said that he had been climbing for such a long time that when he crested the final incline and saw nowhere else to climb, he was confused and disoriented. It was only after a couple moments that it sank in that he had in fact reached the highest point on the planet. And then, get this -- his very next thought was, "I'm halfway through." Some of his teammates spent over an hour at the top, snapping pictures and congratulating each other and crying. And using valuable oxygen and physical energy. One lady even required a sherpa to haul a satellite fax machine to the top so she could send faxes to her loved ones...! Krakauer sat there for five minutes, erected a flag his wife had sewn for him, and then started climbing back down.
When I read that, at first I was like, Come on, guy, give yourself a freaking break. Enjoy the moment for once. But then I realized that the persistence and realism that had to that point aided his successful ascent was also the stuff that got him back down the mountain in one piece. As a skilled climber, he knew this...and he knew that the real cause for celebration would be to return home to his wife and children alive and healthy.
I think I need more of that climber's instinct. I need to keep my eyes on the goal - the real goal - at all times, and anything that doesn't assist me in reaching that goal...well, like a long-time friend says, "Sorry 'bout cha!"
I know my ultimate goal -- eternity with my Lord, and the hope of hearing with these ears His sweet voice saying, "Well done. Have some wine!" Or something related to that. It's the more specific goals that allude me. It's like, I know what I should be doing, but sometimes I don't know what I should be doing.
Or maybe I do know, on some level, my specific goal. I just can't admit it. A good friend (and the best guitarist I've ever had occasion to play with, actually) confessed to me once that he was more afraid of success than he was of failure. Even now his words challenge me. Because what if I do go for it, and experience some success, and then I blow it? The greater the success, the greater the potential failure.
A misstep on Everest is so different from a misstep on Pinnacle.
But no climber can climb Everest their first time out.
Several of my recent posts have discussed a certain restlessness I've felt recently. At first I thought it had to do with the holidays, or with a tendency to lose focus. But I am now willing to say that what I'm experiencing is more than seasonal discontent. It's lasted too long and it is accompanied by such compelling anticipation. I am now believing that there is a new, higher mountain for me to conquer. May I prove to be a wise climber, courageous and tenacious.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Hi, I'm Rachel and I'm a control freak...
Number one -- it is entirely possible for someone to be laid back and easy going and STILL be a control freak. When I was in the past confronted by my own controlling tendencies, I would tell myself, I'm not controlling. I'm too chilled out to be controlling. Wrong! Wrong-a-bong-a-bing-bong!! So what happened that I now see myself more rightly? Well, I don't really want to go into it. Broad brushstrokes...something I've wanted for a long time came along, and it seemed perfect at first, but the more I learned the LESS perfect it seemed. But I was so focused on THE END GOAL and doing/saying/praying the exact right thing to achieve my GOAL that anything else didn't matter. Several weeks and a couple of pretty enlightening conversations with my husband/champion-of-my-soul later...I was willing to just let it go.
And since I let it go, clarity. The clarity and peace of a bright, sunny day. And the one thing I know is that when this thing I've wanted for so long actually does happen (and it will...He's been telling me for over 15 years that it will happen someday)...it's not going to be because of anything I did. The glory belongs to God, and Him only. And by His grace, I will stop trying to elbow my way in.
You Hold My World
By Israel Houghton
Take my heart -- Lord, will You take my heart
As I surrender to Your will
I confess You are my righteousness
And 'til You move me, I'll be still
And know that You are God
You hold my world in Your hands
You hold my world in Your hands
And I am amazed at Your love
I am amazed that You love me
...I'm not afraid!
My world is safe in Your hands,
In Your hands
Take my life -- Lord, will You take my life?
You are the reason that I live
I believe You have forgiven me
And by Your grace I will forgive
And know that You are God
You hold my world in Your hands
You hold my world in Your hands
And I am amazed at Your love
I am amazed that You love me
...I'm not afraid!
My world is safe in Your hands
In Your hands!
And since I let it go, clarity. The clarity and peace of a bright, sunny day. And the one thing I know is that when this thing I've wanted for so long actually does happen (and it will...He's been telling me for over 15 years that it will happen someday)...it's not going to be because of anything I did. The glory belongs to God, and Him only. And by His grace, I will stop trying to elbow my way in.
You Hold My World
By Israel Houghton
Take my heart -- Lord, will You take my heart
As I surrender to Your will
I confess You are my righteousness
And 'til You move me, I'll be still
And know that You are God
You hold my world in Your hands
You hold my world in Your hands
And I am amazed at Your love
I am amazed that You love me
...I'm not afraid!
My world is safe in Your hands,
In Your hands
Take my life -- Lord, will You take my life?
You are the reason that I live
I believe You have forgiven me
And by Your grace I will forgive
And know that You are God
You hold my world in Your hands
You hold my world in Your hands
And I am amazed at Your love
I am amazed that You love me
...I'm not afraid!
My world is safe in Your hands
In Your hands!
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
One
One year. I knew my life would change, and I wanted the change, but I had no way of knowing how it would change. And while I can't say that I have loved every minute of it...I have loved every minute of it. The other mommies and daddies reading this probably understand the sensical nonsense of that last sentence. Being a mom is the absolute hardest thing I have ever done (and I am now seeing glimmers of our sweet Jelly Bean's toddler self, so I don't think it's getting easier any time soon)...but oh, it's just the most fabulous thing.
So without further ado, I shall offer a retelling of Ava Denise Pinto's entrance into our world.
On Monday morning, 2/22, I went to an appointment at my OB's office. I was three days past my due date and as big as a house. (At least a single-wide, people. I had some serious water weight. And Taco Bell weight. But anyway...) By some miracle I was still able to pee into a cup (sorry if TMI) and my urine specimen had protein in it. This coupled with my high blood pressure and blurry vision indicated to my OB (Dr. Sellers - love him!) that I had preeclampsia. This is a potentially dangerous situation, and he was noticably concerned. He told me that I needed to check into the hospital that night to be observed, and then they would induce labor the next day, Tuesday 2/23. My sister, Holly, was at the appointment with me which was a really good thing b/c I proceeded to bawl my eyes out from disappointment that I could not have natural childbirth. Um. No comments from the peanut gallery. It's really what I wanted, but it didn't work out, so maybe next time.
But very soon my disappointment was overshadowed by excitement upon the realization that I would get to meet my sweet girl in just one day! Dr. Sellers sent me home to "rest," which is like telling a child to rest on Christmas Eve times a thousand. But given the fact that I was as huge as a trailer, I couldn't get around very well anyway, so I basically laid on the couch while my mom and Nana got my hospital bag together. Jeff got home from work a little early, and we were at the hospital by 7pm. I got an IV (ouch! According to my husband the RN, the nurse was terrible at it), a sleeping pill, and something to help me dilate...and then I was off to sleep.
I woke up at 6am on 2/23, and at 7am received my first dose of Pitocin. No pain meds at this point because I just wanted to see how it would go. My thinking was, I've never experienced this type of pain before, so let's just see what happens and I can get meds at any point along the way. And really, it wasn't too bad until Doc came in at 1pm and broke my water. And then, oh baby! Pain level went from a 2-3 to a 8-9 in the matter of a few minutes. Actual natural childbirth is progressive, so that (I hear from my amazing sister who has delivered three babies naturally) you can stay on top of the pain mentally. But with that sudden jump-up in pain level, I was having a hard time holding on mentally and emotionally. I wasn't screaming or crying or any other stuff that happens in the movies...but I could tell that something was "off". Little did I know... (I should say here that my mom and Jeff were both in the room with me this entire time, and they did a fabulous job of maintaining a peaceful and supportive environment so I could focus on my labor.)
"What did you say?" asked Jeff.
"Nothing." I was in pain, and I started to get really scared right then. But I had felt the Holy Spirit with me throughout the entire process, ever since the appointment the day before. And especially during these moments, as I lay there having all of those emotions He was saying to my spirit, "I am with you. Don't be afraid. Be brave. I am with you." I'm not sure what your beliefs are about stuff like this, but His presence and comfort were as real as what I was receiving from Jeff or my mom.
Our nurse brought the charge nurse in and they did an ultrasound to confirm that Ava was frank breech. I asked them for an epidural, and I swear my mom and Jeff let out a HUGE sigh of relief when I said that word. I know it was difficult for them to stand by and watch me go through that much pain and not be able to do anything about it. Less than 20 minutes later, we were inserting the epidural (which was a pain unique unto itself, let me tell ya) and I eventually felt better. Dr. Sellers came at 4pm to do an ultrasound, confirmed that Ava was breech, and told me that we needed to do a C-section. Some more fright at this point, because I had never been to surgery before, and my sweet doctor offered to pray with me. I accepted, and then when he and the nurses left the room - and it was just me, Jeff, and my mom - I just let it all out. I cried and cried and then cried some more. I don't think I have ever in my life cried so hard. What was I feeling? Um, pretty much everything. Sad, scared, happy, excited, and just overwhelmed that I would see my girl in just a couple of hours.
We were scheduled to go into surgery at 5:30pm. I don't remember much of what happened in the next couple hours. I know we were delayed until 6pm, but I was so tired and emotionally exhausted that I may have slept or just spaced out.
Then it was time, and they wheeled me into surgery. Ok, operating rooms look like what I would imagine a panic room to look like. Not the most comfortable place, number one. And number two, there are about 15 people in there, all with a different and I'm sure very good reason...but still, it was like, "Oh hi everyone. I'm just huge and naked and about to experience the single greatest moment of my life. Don't mind me." And if I hadn't noticed by then (which I certainly had), I saw it now that dignity is a casualty of motherhood.
So in the last 48 hours I had experienced several surprises:: preeclampsia, painful IV, painful labor, breech baby, painful epidural. So when Dr. Sellers told me, "I'm about to pinch you and if you feel it at all, you should tell me," and then I felt it...I mean, really felt it...it just fits, right? Except not really. They dosed my epidural three more times over the next fifteen minutes, with no change. At least not to my midsection. My arms and legs were completely numb and useless, but I could still feel the pinching on my belly. So then they told me that they needed to do a spinal block, right then and there. Perhaps at this point I had about three crumbs of dignity left...and when my nurse and three nursing students had to lift my paralyzed (and huge, have I mentioned that?) body off of the operating table for the spinal tap insertion, that was it. Zero dignity. I'm telling this in a humorous way right now, but in that moment I thought, "Ok, just check out so you won't go berserk." And so I just went numb, emotionally and mentally. The spinal tap was inserted - with no pain this time - and it worked.
When I was finally laying back down on the table, and I couldn't feel the pinching, it was apparent that I was really and actually about to meet my little girl. Finally. Dr. Sellers explained what he was about to do, and what I may feel, and that he would have to hand Ava to the NICU nurses as soon as she was delivered to clean out her airways. Another of my labor desires was compromised here, in that I couldn't be the first to hold my baby.
I didn't feel the cutting, but I did feel some movement...kind of like someone was pulling on my legs, and then pressing down really hard on my chest. Then she was out, and everyone was saying how big she was, and I could see her little legs and hear her little cries. Tears of joy, and "Thank You, Jesus," over and over. She was with the NICU nurses, crying like a champ, and I didn't want her to think she was alone. I told Jeff to go stand next to the warming table and talk to her. He didn't miss a beat. Just walked over there, let her wrap her little fingers around his thumb, and said over and over, "Ava, this is your daddy. I'm right here with you. Everything is going to be okay. Ava, this is your daddy. I'm right here with you. Everything is going to be okay..." Definitely one of the most special moments of the day.
And then, finally. My moment. Our moment, me and her. They brought her to me, and suddenly I was a mama. Certainly when I was pregnant, I was a mama. And as we continue on this path, I will know more of what that means. But that moment was so pivotal, so life-changing. I thought (and maybe said), "Oh wow, this changes everything."
I have never worshipped like I worshipped in those moments after Ava was born. My God. My God gave us this exquisite miniature of His glory. I told her, "I'm your mama, and I will always be here for you no matter what." She was so beautiful; I just couldn't stop looking at her.
And you know what? I still can't. Ava Denise, we love you more than life itself. And we love being your parents. You are so fun and adventurous and intelligent. You have brought so much joy to our life, and we thank God for you every day. Happy birthday, Jelly Bean!
So without further ado, I shall offer a retelling of Ava Denise Pinto's entrance into our world.
On Monday morning, 2/22, I went to an appointment at my OB's office. I was three days past my due date and as big as a house. (At least a single-wide, people. I had some serious water weight. And Taco Bell weight. But anyway...) By some miracle I was still able to pee into a cup (sorry if TMI) and my urine specimen had protein in it. This coupled with my high blood pressure and blurry vision indicated to my OB (Dr. Sellers - love him!) that I had preeclampsia. This is a potentially dangerous situation, and he was noticably concerned. He told me that I needed to check into the hospital that night to be observed, and then they would induce labor the next day, Tuesday 2/23. My sister, Holly, was at the appointment with me which was a really good thing b/c I proceeded to bawl my eyes out from disappointment that I could not have natural childbirth. Um. No comments from the peanut gallery. It's really what I wanted, but it didn't work out, so maybe next time.
But very soon my disappointment was overshadowed by excitement upon the realization that I would get to meet my sweet girl in just one day! Dr. Sellers sent me home to "rest," which is like telling a child to rest on Christmas Eve times a thousand. But given the fact that I was as huge as a trailer, I couldn't get around very well anyway, so I basically laid on the couch while my mom and Nana got my hospital bag together. Jeff got home from work a little early, and we were at the hospital by 7pm. I got an IV (ouch! According to my husband the RN, the nurse was terrible at it), a sleeping pill, and something to help me dilate...and then I was off to sleep.
I woke up at 6am on 2/23, and at 7am received my first dose of Pitocin. No pain meds at this point because I just wanted to see how it would go. My thinking was, I've never experienced this type of pain before, so let's just see what happens and I can get meds at any point along the way. And really, it wasn't too bad until Doc came in at 1pm and broke my water. And then, oh baby! Pain level went from a 2-3 to a 8-9 in the matter of a few minutes. Actual natural childbirth is progressive, so that (I hear from my amazing sister who has delivered three babies naturally) you can stay on top of the pain mentally. But with that sudden jump-up in pain level, I was having a hard time holding on mentally and emotionally. I wasn't screaming or crying or any other stuff that happens in the movies...but I could tell that something was "off". Little did I know... (I should say here that my mom and Jeff were both in the room with me this entire time, and they did a fabulous job of maintaining a peaceful and supportive environment so I could focus on my labor.)
Around 3pm I asked my Mom to go get the nurse to check my progress. I told myself that if I was beyond 5cm, I would continue laboring without meds. But if I was less than 5cm, I would probably get meds. I didn't share this with anyone else at that point. So the nurse checked my progress. She said, "I think you're probably about a three. But look at this." And she showed me her surgical glove. Meconium. Lots of it. I didn't really know what I was looking at, so she helped me out. She said, "I don't think that was a head that I just felt. I think it was a booty." Oh, WOW. A wave of fright washed over me. I laid my head back against the bed, started crying, and said, "C-section."
"What did you say?" asked Jeff.
"Nothing." I was in pain, and I started to get really scared right then. But I had felt the Holy Spirit with me throughout the entire process, ever since the appointment the day before. And especially during these moments, as I lay there having all of those emotions He was saying to my spirit, "I am with you. Don't be afraid. Be brave. I am with you." I'm not sure what your beliefs are about stuff like this, but His presence and comfort were as real as what I was receiving from Jeff or my mom.
Our nurse brought the charge nurse in and they did an ultrasound to confirm that Ava was frank breech. I asked them for an epidural, and I swear my mom and Jeff let out a HUGE sigh of relief when I said that word. I know it was difficult for them to stand by and watch me go through that much pain and not be able to do anything about it. Less than 20 minutes later, we were inserting the epidural (which was a pain unique unto itself, let me tell ya) and I eventually felt better. Dr. Sellers came at 4pm to do an ultrasound, confirmed that Ava was breech, and told me that we needed to do a C-section. Some more fright at this point, because I had never been to surgery before, and my sweet doctor offered to pray with me. I accepted, and then when he and the nurses left the room - and it was just me, Jeff, and my mom - I just let it all out. I cried and cried and then cried some more. I don't think I have ever in my life cried so hard. What was I feeling? Um, pretty much everything. Sad, scared, happy, excited, and just overwhelmed that I would see my girl in just a couple of hours.
We were scheduled to go into surgery at 5:30pm. I don't remember much of what happened in the next couple hours. I know we were delayed until 6pm, but I was so tired and emotionally exhausted that I may have slept or just spaced out.
Then it was time, and they wheeled me into surgery. Ok, operating rooms look like what I would imagine a panic room to look like. Not the most comfortable place, number one. And number two, there are about 15 people in there, all with a different and I'm sure very good reason...but still, it was like, "Oh hi everyone. I'm just huge and naked and about to experience the single greatest moment of my life. Don't mind me." And if I hadn't noticed by then (which I certainly had), I saw it now that dignity is a casualty of motherhood.
So in the last 48 hours I had experienced several surprises:: preeclampsia, painful IV, painful labor, breech baby, painful epidural. So when Dr. Sellers told me, "I'm about to pinch you and if you feel it at all, you should tell me," and then I felt it...I mean, really felt it...it just fits, right? Except not really. They dosed my epidural three more times over the next fifteen minutes, with no change. At least not to my midsection. My arms and legs were completely numb and useless, but I could still feel the pinching on my belly. So then they told me that they needed to do a spinal block, right then and there. Perhaps at this point I had about three crumbs of dignity left...and when my nurse and three nursing students had to lift my paralyzed (and huge, have I mentioned that?) body off of the operating table for the spinal tap insertion, that was it. Zero dignity. I'm telling this in a humorous way right now, but in that moment I thought, "Ok, just check out so you won't go berserk." And so I just went numb, emotionally and mentally. The spinal tap was inserted - with no pain this time - and it worked.
When I was finally laying back down on the table, and I couldn't feel the pinching, it was apparent that I was really and actually about to meet my little girl. Finally. Dr. Sellers explained what he was about to do, and what I may feel, and that he would have to hand Ava to the NICU nurses as soon as she was delivered to clean out her airways. Another of my labor desires was compromised here, in that I couldn't be the first to hold my baby.
I didn't feel the cutting, but I did feel some movement...kind of like someone was pulling on my legs, and then pressing down really hard on my chest. Then she was out, and everyone was saying how big she was, and I could see her little legs and hear her little cries. Tears of joy, and "Thank You, Jesus," over and over. She was with the NICU nurses, crying like a champ, and I didn't want her to think she was alone. I told Jeff to go stand next to the warming table and talk to her. He didn't miss a beat. Just walked over there, let her wrap her little fingers around his thumb, and said over and over, "Ava, this is your daddy. I'm right here with you. Everything is going to be okay. Ava, this is your daddy. I'm right here with you. Everything is going to be okay..." Definitely one of the most special moments of the day.
And then, finally. My moment. Our moment, me and her. They brought her to me, and suddenly I was a mama. Certainly when I was pregnant, I was a mama. And as we continue on this path, I will know more of what that means. But that moment was so pivotal, so life-changing. I thought (and maybe said), "Oh wow, this changes everything."
I have never worshipped like I worshipped in those moments after Ava was born. My God. My God gave us this exquisite miniature of His glory. I told her, "I'm your mama, and I will always be here for you no matter what." She was so beautiful; I just couldn't stop looking at her.
And you know what? I still can't. Ava Denise, we love you more than life itself. And we love being your parents. You are so fun and adventurous and intelligent. You have brought so much joy to our life, and we thank God for you every day. Happy birthday, Jelly Bean!
Friday, February 11, 2011
Baby Weight
Ok, so I pretty much decided last month that I can't call it "baby weight" anymore. My daughter is almost a year old after all. Not sure where that line is exactly for me (and it is a purely personal decision), but once the new year rolled around, my patience with my Mom Body reached critical mass. No pun intended.
I think a lot of mommies can identify with me on this. Before pregnancy, I had a pretty healthy self image. Sure, there were some days where I felt bloated or frumpy, but most of the time I was comfortable and confident with my body. When I would hear pregnant ladies complain about their bodies and the amount of weight they were gaining, I was usually the first to remind them that "It's for the baby." Then, I was pregnant. And I was the one whose waistline DIS-AP-PEARED and who saw some mind-boggling numbers on the scale at the doctor's office. And you know, it still helped to hear people say I was beautiful and glowing and that the weight gain was for the baby. But let me be honest -- all of that weight was not for the baby. A lot of it was due to the extra burrito from Taco Bell or the mozzarella sticks from Sonic or the real Coca-Cola I had about every other day during my third trimester. And I promised my future self that I would lose all the weight relatively easily after our girl was born. After all, I would be breastfeeding which supposedly burns like 100,000 extra calories a day or something.
And you know what? I did lose a lot of the weight. Most of it. But weaning time came and went with little fanfare (thanks to a very laid-back and adaptive baby girl), and I realized that I still had more than a few pounds to lose. It wasn't about the number. I probably couldn't tell you right now what I weigh. For me it was about how I looked, and how I felt about how I looked. On one of my harder PPD days, I told a friend, "I just don't feel alluring anymore." But that day was like in November or something. I just kinda sat there for awhile, literally and figuratively.
I learned in one of my grad classes that a depressed person actually has to come out of the pit a little before she'll make any lasting changes. Someone who is truly at rock bottom cannot - by virtue of being at their very lowest point - pull themselves out. There has to be some sort of inciting event, a bounce if you will. (I love finding grace in the most unexpected places, don't you?) My grace happened on or around January 1st. I can't remember exactly when, but it was like the curtains on the windows of my mind were opened and I saw the cobwebs and dust and dank for the first time. I told myself, "2010 was baby year, and 2011 will be recovery year." I gave myself two goals: read the Bible all the way through, and get my body back. The Bible reading I felt would give some structure to getting some Light and Truth into my tired soul, and it has. And getting my body back has been a healing event as well, empowering and enlightening.
When I was pregnant and a brand new mommy, I plunged way into that identity. Listen, I wanted it so badly, and when it happened I was more thrilled than any blog post can describe. But by the time JB was drinking bottles and crawling around, and we had found a workable rhythm at home, I actually had a little time to look at myself in the mirror. And whoa...in the words of Fred Willard, wha' happened?!? So, you know what? I am not just a mommy. I'll tell ya, I am primarily a mommy and all you have to do is try to mess with my baby or family if you need to be convinced. It is the biggest part of me now, but it's still just a part. I'm also a wife, and a friend, and a sister, and a professional. And it's time for the outside "me" to reflect the inside "me" again.
So. How am I doing it? I devised (ok, more like stumbled upon...it's how I find all my good ideas to be honest) a two-step approach:
1) Start with The Master Cleanse (shout out to Carmen and Andrea here). Follow the link for more information. I did three days of Ease-In, five days of the Cleanse, and three days of Ease-Out.
a. Pros: It was like hitting the reset button on my appetite. It is essentially a fast, and I made it a spiritual as well as physical exercise. I would get hungry at mealtimes - no big surprise there. But I would also get hungry if I smelled food, or if I saw a food commercial on TV, or if I drove past a food billboard. My stomach was responding to my eyes seeing the pictures of yummy food. I wasn't any hungrier 30 seconds after seeing the advertisement than before, but my body wanted me to think I was. I think I read this in one of Richard Foster's books, but the stomach really does act like a spoiled child sometimes.
b. Cons: Bathroom time. Please reference the website.
2) Super Top Secret Mysterious Weight Loss Plan: reduce intake of energy, increase output of energy. Diet and exercise, people. I am using the LoseIt! app on my iPhone, which is also available on the good ol' interweb. It tracks calories and other nutrition info of the food I eat, and calories burned for the exercises I do (even housework is included in their available exercises, and sexual activity...can I get a what, what?!). But my favorite part of the app is that it asked for my goal weight, and how much weight I want to lose each week (0.5 lb, 1 lb, 1.5 lb, 2 lb)...and then it calculated my net daily calories based on that. Too cool!
But you know, the main thing is that whatever plan you choose, you stick with it. It's not magic. But it has been fun, finding new recipes (allrecipes.com and epicurious.com both have lots of healthy recipes) and -- the best part -- RESULTS. Can I get an amen on that one?! I was wearing my biggest pair of jeans the other day, the ones I wore during my first trimester, and my Mom said, "Wow, Rachel, those pants are about to fall off you! You're gonna have to get some new ones soon." I could have done the Rocky shadow-boxing dance. "Getting strong now...won't be long nooowwww!" I was so pumped.
And that, my friends, is exactly the kind of empowerment this mommy/wife/grad student/sister/friend/soon-to-be-professional needs.
I think a lot of mommies can identify with me on this. Before pregnancy, I had a pretty healthy self image. Sure, there were some days where I felt bloated or frumpy, but most of the time I was comfortable and confident with my body. When I would hear pregnant ladies complain about their bodies and the amount of weight they were gaining, I was usually the first to remind them that "It's for the baby." Then, I was pregnant. And I was the one whose waistline DIS-AP-PEARED and who saw some mind-boggling numbers on the scale at the doctor's office. And you know, it still helped to hear people say I was beautiful and glowing and that the weight gain was for the baby. But let me be honest -- all of that weight was not for the baby. A lot of it was due to the extra burrito from Taco Bell or the mozzarella sticks from Sonic or the real Coca-Cola I had about every other day during my third trimester. And I promised my future self that I would lose all the weight relatively easily after our girl was born. After all, I would be breastfeeding which supposedly burns like 100,000 extra calories a day or something.
And you know what? I did lose a lot of the weight. Most of it. But weaning time came and went with little fanfare (thanks to a very laid-back and adaptive baby girl), and I realized that I still had more than a few pounds to lose. It wasn't about the number. I probably couldn't tell you right now what I weigh. For me it was about how I looked, and how I felt about how I looked. On one of my harder PPD days, I told a friend, "I just don't feel alluring anymore." But that day was like in November or something. I just kinda sat there for awhile, literally and figuratively.
I learned in one of my grad classes that a depressed person actually has to come out of the pit a little before she'll make any lasting changes. Someone who is truly at rock bottom cannot - by virtue of being at their very lowest point - pull themselves out. There has to be some sort of inciting event, a bounce if you will. (I love finding grace in the most unexpected places, don't you?) My grace happened on or around January 1st. I can't remember exactly when, but it was like the curtains on the windows of my mind were opened and I saw the cobwebs and dust and dank for the first time. I told myself, "2010 was baby year, and 2011 will be recovery year." I gave myself two goals: read the Bible all the way through, and get my body back. The Bible reading I felt would give some structure to getting some Light and Truth into my tired soul, and it has. And getting my body back has been a healing event as well, empowering and enlightening.
When I was pregnant and a brand new mommy, I plunged way into that identity. Listen, I wanted it so badly, and when it happened I was more thrilled than any blog post can describe. But by the time JB was drinking bottles and crawling around, and we had found a workable rhythm at home, I actually had a little time to look at myself in the mirror. And whoa...in the words of Fred Willard, wha' happened?!? So, you know what? I am not just a mommy. I'll tell ya, I am primarily a mommy and all you have to do is try to mess with my baby or family if you need to be convinced. It is the biggest part of me now, but it's still just a part. I'm also a wife, and a friend, and a sister, and a professional. And it's time for the outside "me" to reflect the inside "me" again.
So. How am I doing it? I devised (ok, more like stumbled upon...it's how I find all my good ideas to be honest) a two-step approach:
1) Start with The Master Cleanse (shout out to Carmen and Andrea here). Follow the link for more information. I did three days of Ease-In, five days of the Cleanse, and three days of Ease-Out.
a. Pros: It was like hitting the reset button on my appetite. It is essentially a fast, and I made it a spiritual as well as physical exercise. I would get hungry at mealtimes - no big surprise there. But I would also get hungry if I smelled food, or if I saw a food commercial on TV, or if I drove past a food billboard. My stomach was responding to my eyes seeing the pictures of yummy food. I wasn't any hungrier 30 seconds after seeing the advertisement than before, but my body wanted me to think I was. I think I read this in one of Richard Foster's books, but the stomach really does act like a spoiled child sometimes.
b. Cons: Bathroom time. Please reference the website.
2) Super Top Secret Mysterious Weight Loss Plan: reduce intake of energy, increase output of energy. Diet and exercise, people. I am using the LoseIt! app on my iPhone, which is also available on the good ol' interweb. It tracks calories and other nutrition info of the food I eat, and calories burned for the exercises I do (even housework is included in their available exercises, and sexual activity...can I get a what, what?!). But my favorite part of the app is that it asked for my goal weight, and how much weight I want to lose each week (0.5 lb, 1 lb, 1.5 lb, 2 lb)...and then it calculated my net daily calories based on that. Too cool!
But you know, the main thing is that whatever plan you choose, you stick with it. It's not magic. But it has been fun, finding new recipes (allrecipes.com and epicurious.com both have lots of healthy recipes) and -- the best part -- RESULTS. Can I get an amen on that one?! I was wearing my biggest pair of jeans the other day, the ones I wore during my first trimester, and my Mom said, "Wow, Rachel, those pants are about to fall off you! You're gonna have to get some new ones soon." I could have done the Rocky shadow-boxing dance. "Getting strong now...won't be long nooowwww!" I was so pumped.
And that, my friends, is exactly the kind of empowerment this mommy/wife/grad student/sister/friend/soon-to-be-professional needs.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Food 2011
I'll just say it. Food is a big part of my life. I love the comfort of it -- how a homecooked meal (preferably prepared by one's mother) sits warm in your belly and your heart. And I love the adventure of it -- trying new tastes and techniques, and learning. Not to the extreme of those guys on cable TV who eat bugs and intestines and such, but you know, basically just eating more non-American foods. And I LOVE what sharing a meal with someone does for the friendship. It is profound, almost spiritual, the conversations I have had with folks over a simple meal prepared with care.
So I'm going to add FOOD as a regular subject to this here blog. I'll post pictures and recipes and stories, and I'd love to read/see some of yours as well.
So, any requests? Anything you'd like to see me try this year? Also, an unofficial poll...what is your ultimate comfort food?
So I'm going to add FOOD as a regular subject to this here blog. I'll post pictures and recipes and stories, and I'd love to read/see some of yours as well.
So, any requests? Anything you'd like to see me try this year? Also, an unofficial poll...what is your ultimate comfort food?
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