Ok, do any of the other mommies out there wonder about yourself sometimes??
While I was pregnant with Jelly Bean, El Jefe and I discussed the benefits of cloth diapering which included financial as well as environmental concerns. We decided we'd do it, and I asked my sister - who has done this with her three children - for her advice. She directed me to this blog post, which she authored and which is fabulous. Additionally, when she was here helping us with JB a couple months ago she brought some covers and liners with her. Awesome! I thought. Diapers for free for the first few months!
Well, somewhere along the way, I lost one small piece of information. Cloth diapering consists of three pieces: the cover (furthest from baby's bum), the prefold diaper (in the middle), and a liner of some sort (closest to baby's bum, to pull moisture away). Remember, SB brought just covers and liners, and I was supposed to supply my own diapers.
I tried several times to put cloth diapers on JB, but every single time it would turn into a big, leaky mess. When people would ask how it was going, I would say, "I guess it's just not for us. I just can't get it to work. Maybe when she's older."
I just now in this moment realized -- I was only using the cover and the liner! I never inserted the actual diaper into the cloth diaper!! Oh geez...
You know...some people in this life are gifted with an ability to consider the practical details of living such as house cleaning, bill paying, and how to properly assemble a cloth diaper. Others of us are gifted in other, less tangible, ways such as writing a piano sonata or authoring a ten page paper in an afternoon, and are almost always completely eluded by practical concerns.
Nevertheless, I will not be bested by the cloth diaper! I will overcome! We are purchasing covers, liners, and (yes, even) prefold diapers in JB's current size, and we will use them with success!
Let it be written. Let it be known.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Monday, June 7, 2010
HB's Oatmeal Squares
I got this recipe from my sister, HB, and made them this weekend. They are yummy! And, as El Jefe and I figured it up...they cost about 40 cents per square. (I have a very budget-conscious husband.) He eats two at a time, but one is enough for me.
If you want to offer something homemade to your family for breakfast, but don't have very much time in the morning, these are perfect. I just cut them into squares, wrapped them in plastic wrap, and stored them in the fridge. So without further ado...
Ingredients:
3 c oats (either quick-cooking or regular)
1 3/4 c buttermilk or sour milk (see below for sour milk directions)
1/2 c veg oil, coconut oil, or room-temperature butter
4 eggs
1/3 c honey, maple syrup, brown sugar, or white sugar
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
2 tsp cinnamon
2 tsp vanilla
2 c raisins (or any other dried fruit)
2 c chopped apples (or pears, or peaches...you get the idea)
1 c chopped nuts
1. In a large mixing bowl, soak the oats and buttermilk or sour milk covered on the kitchen counter overnight, or at least for a couple hours.
2. Preheat oven to 350. Add the oil, sugar, eggs, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, and vanilla to the oats mixture. Beat for 4-5 minutes, until ingredients are well incorporated. Stir in the fruit and nuts.
3. Pour into a greased 9x13 baking dish, and bake at 350 for 25 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted near the center comes out mostly clean.
4. When completely cool, cut into 16 squares. They'll be very, very moist, so be ginger! Or be Maryann! Be whomever! Just take care not to tear them apart. They need to be refrigerated, and you can heat them up in the microwave when you're ready to eat them.
Other Options: Try whatever add-ins you think will be good in place of the fruit and nuts. HB said dried cranberries and white chocolate chips are fabulous, and I can't wait to try that variety!
Sour Milk: In a small bowl, stir together 1 3/4 c milk (less 1.5 tsp) and 1.5 tsp white vinegar. Allow it to sit on the counter for 15-20 minutes to sour. This is kind of a gross step, and you can just use regular milk if you want, but I wouldn't recommend it. There's just something about that acidity in the finished product that makes it so, so good.
If you want to offer something homemade to your family for breakfast, but don't have very much time in the morning, these are perfect. I just cut them into squares, wrapped them in plastic wrap, and stored them in the fridge. So without further ado...
Ingredients:
3 c oats (either quick-cooking or regular)
1 3/4 c buttermilk or sour milk (see below for sour milk directions)
1/2 c veg oil, coconut oil, or room-temperature butter
4 eggs
1/3 c honey, maple syrup, brown sugar, or white sugar
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
2 tsp cinnamon
2 tsp vanilla
2 c raisins (or any other dried fruit)
2 c chopped apples (or pears, or peaches...you get the idea)
1 c chopped nuts
1. In a large mixing bowl, soak the oats and buttermilk or sour milk covered on the kitchen counter overnight, or at least for a couple hours.
2. Preheat oven to 350. Add the oil, sugar, eggs, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, and vanilla to the oats mixture. Beat for 4-5 minutes, until ingredients are well incorporated. Stir in the fruit and nuts.
3. Pour into a greased 9x13 baking dish, and bake at 350 for 25 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted near the center comes out mostly clean.
4. When completely cool, cut into 16 squares. They'll be very, very moist, so be ginger! Or be Maryann! Be whomever! Just take care not to tear them apart. They need to be refrigerated, and you can heat them up in the microwave when you're ready to eat them.
Other Options: Try whatever add-ins you think will be good in place of the fruit and nuts. HB said dried cranberries and white chocolate chips are fabulous, and I can't wait to try that variety!
Sour Milk: In a small bowl, stir together 1 3/4 c milk (less 1.5 tsp) and 1.5 tsp white vinegar. Allow it to sit on the counter for 15-20 minutes to sour. This is kind of a gross step, and you can just use regular milk if you want, but I wouldn't recommend it. There's just something about that acidity in the finished product that makes it so, so good.
Monday, May 17, 2010
I HATE Cleaning...
...but then, who loves it?
Probably the main reason I avoid cleaning is that I don't believe I have enough time. It's rare that I have an entire day, or even an entire morning, to spend uninterrupted on getting my house spotless. So, I devised a cleaning calendar that spreads the workload out over a four week period.
I actually came up with this when the Hunk and I were housesitting for a year at a really nice place, which happened to be much bigger than anywhere else we had lived, and I was definitely overwhelmed by the idea of keeping that house clean! Well, now we have a cute little 3BR/1.5BA that is much more manageable. I still use this calendar, though, b/c it helps me stay on top of the cleaning duties. (Also, the Hunk is very willing to help out when I ask for quick, specific tasks.)
So here it is. I basically broke down everything into single tasks, and then arranged them on this five-day/four-week calendar so that I only have to do two or three tasks per day. And weekends off! Notice the quickhand at the bottom, and that this is for a 1.5BA house, so we only have one bathtub to clean. Also I didn't put those continuous tasks on here - namely, doing laundry and cleaning the kitchen.
I offer this in hopes that you can use it at least as a starting point if you don't already have a plan of attack for cleaning your house. Because, after all, having a plan for something like this is almost always better.
Probably the main reason I avoid cleaning is that I don't believe I have enough time. It's rare that I have an entire day, or even an entire morning, to spend uninterrupted on getting my house spotless. So, I devised a cleaning calendar that spreads the workload out over a four week period.
I actually came up with this when the Hunk and I were housesitting for a year at a really nice place, which happened to be much bigger than anywhere else we had lived, and I was definitely overwhelmed by the idea of keeping that house clean! Well, now we have a cute little 3BR/1.5BA that is much more manageable. I still use this calendar, though, b/c it helps me stay on top of the cleaning duties. (Also, the Hunk is very willing to help out when I ask for quick, specific tasks.)
So here it is. I basically broke down everything into single tasks, and then arranged them on this five-day/four-week calendar so that I only have to do two or three tasks per day. And weekends off! Notice the quickhand at the bottom, and that this is for a 1.5BA house, so we only have one bathtub to clean. Also I didn't put those continuous tasks on here - namely, doing laundry and cleaning the kitchen.
I offer this in hopes that you can use it at least as a starting point if you don't already have a plan of attack for cleaning your house. Because, after all, having a plan for something like this is almost always better.
Friday, April 23, 2010
"I would never do anything to hurt you"...and other lies
"I would never do anything to hurt you."
I've said it before. I think maybe I said it a couple weeks ago to Jelly Bean, our infant daughter, in one of the several outpoourings of motherly emotion I've been experiencing since she turned our lives upside down two months ago. I didn't mean to lie. Really, I didn't. But today I realized that's exactly what I had done.
You see, she had her first round of vaccinations today.
(Disclaimer: If my gentle readers happen to have views on the hot button topic of vaccination that are contrary to my own, they may be better served by inserting some other medical procedure in its place. Or at least, the point of my blog post will be better served. I have done my due diligence in research and we're getting the shots. That's not what this post is about.)
So she had her first round of vaccinations today, and just two weeks ago I told her that I would never do anything to hurt her. If she weren't still happily oblivious to much of what we call reality, she'd be one confused baby girl. As it is, she has spent 90% of the day since we got home in bed and the remaining 10% in my arms, looking into my eyes and - no other word describes it - whimpering. Thank God for baby tylenol. Seriously. Or I'd be a basket case.
And while I was holding her, looking into her eyes as she looked into mine, I realized something. I can't explain this to her in a way that she'll understand. I mean, I still tried. "Honey, I know those shots hurt really bad when you got them, and you're probably still very sore. But they are good for you, and they'll keep you from getting sick." She just stared. All she knows right now is the hurt. All she knows is that she was laid out on that hospital table, and that lady with the cold hands grabbed her leg, and did something...and after 1.5 breathless seconds (because her Mama felt it, too), she cried like she's never cried before. And then her mother, the one who had delivered her to this small room for this maltreatment, instantly scooped her up and cried with her.
Some things have happened to me, and maybe something's happened to you too, that have hurt. It hurt so bad, and happened so fast, and was so unlike anything I had ever experienced, that I was shocked into this outraged sadness. I wanted answers. I wanted to understand. And I wanted to understand so that I could see it coming next time, damn it.
Well, guess what? I saw it coming this time. It didn't make it any easier.
And when my Father scooped me up and held me close as I raged at Him about the pain, He didn't say anything. Or at least, that's how it seemed. What if He did try to explain, and I couldn't understand? He is timeless; I am bound in time. He is Creator; I am the created. He holds the universe in a delicate balance; sometimes I can't even make a good spaghetti sauce.
So. I tried to explain to my girl what had happened. She just whimpered in response, and then nuzzled her face into the crook of my arm as she fell asleep.
"O LORD, my heart is not proud, nor my eyes haughty;
Nor do I involve myself in great matters,
Or in things too difficult for me.
Surely I have composed and quieted my soul;
Like a weaned child rests against his mother,
My soul is like a weaned child within me.
O Israel, hope in the LORD from this time forth and forever."
Psalm 131
Oh for faith, to trust Him more.
I've said it before. I think maybe I said it a couple weeks ago to Jelly Bean, our infant daughter, in one of the several outpoourings of motherly emotion I've been experiencing since she turned our lives upside down two months ago. I didn't mean to lie. Really, I didn't. But today I realized that's exactly what I had done.
You see, she had her first round of vaccinations today.
(Disclaimer: If my gentle readers happen to have views on the hot button topic of vaccination that are contrary to my own, they may be better served by inserting some other medical procedure in its place. Or at least, the point of my blog post will be better served. I have done my due diligence in research and we're getting the shots. That's not what this post is about.)
So she had her first round of vaccinations today, and just two weeks ago I told her that I would never do anything to hurt her. If she weren't still happily oblivious to much of what we call reality, she'd be one confused baby girl. As it is, she has spent 90% of the day since we got home in bed and the remaining 10% in my arms, looking into my eyes and - no other word describes it - whimpering. Thank God for baby tylenol. Seriously. Or I'd be a basket case.
And while I was holding her, looking into her eyes as she looked into mine, I realized something. I can't explain this to her in a way that she'll understand. I mean, I still tried. "Honey, I know those shots hurt really bad when you got them, and you're probably still very sore. But they are good for you, and they'll keep you from getting sick." She just stared. All she knows right now is the hurt. All she knows is that she was laid out on that hospital table, and that lady with the cold hands grabbed her leg, and did something...and after 1.5 breathless seconds (because her Mama felt it, too), she cried like she's never cried before. And then her mother, the one who had delivered her to this small room for this maltreatment, instantly scooped her up and cried with her.
Some things have happened to me, and maybe something's happened to you too, that have hurt. It hurt so bad, and happened so fast, and was so unlike anything I had ever experienced, that I was shocked into this outraged sadness. I wanted answers. I wanted to understand. And I wanted to understand so that I could see it coming next time, damn it.
Well, guess what? I saw it coming this time. It didn't make it any easier.
And when my Father scooped me up and held me close as I raged at Him about the pain, He didn't say anything. Or at least, that's how it seemed. What if He did try to explain, and I couldn't understand? He is timeless; I am bound in time. He is Creator; I am the created. He holds the universe in a delicate balance; sometimes I can't even make a good spaghetti sauce.
So. I tried to explain to my girl what had happened. She just whimpered in response, and then nuzzled her face into the crook of my arm as she fell asleep.
"O LORD, my heart is not proud, nor my eyes haughty;
Nor do I involve myself in great matters,
Or in things too difficult for me.
Surely I have composed and quieted my soul;
Like a weaned child rests against his mother,
My soul is like a weaned child within me.
O Israel, hope in the LORD from this time forth and forever."
Psalm 131
Oh for faith, to trust Him more.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Birth Story
Well, here goes nothing.
I had a relatively uneventful pregnancy until the very end. Some mild morning sickness in the first trimester slowed me down a little. But then the awesomest second trimester ever (or at least I assume, since I've only had one) followed it. I felt fabulous physically, mentally, in every way. I don't think I have ever felt more "on top of the world" in my life than I did during this time. The third trimester brought with it more fatigue and some dramatic emotions (bless my husband's heart), and some pretty remarkable swelling. I felt like a big ol' tomato, and more than one stranger in the grocery store asked about my due date and informed me that they thought I could go at any moment. Thank you. Thank you so much.
But all in all, I still felt okay - at least not out of the ordinary for a full-term pregnant woman - and I began preparing for natural childbirth. Some people (interestingly, most had never been pregnant) told me I was crazy, but I remained confident that my body was made to do this and I could manage the pain. My husband, who is a registered nurse, and my obstetrician both cautioned me to stay open to other forms of childbirth just in case something happened or I had a change of heart during labor. I agreed to this, and learned what I could about natural childbirth while keeping a caveat in my mind for the special situation.
My due date was Friday, Feb. 19, and when I went for my weekly check-up on the previous Tuesday I had not progressed at all. The doctor noticed my swelling, but my blood pressure and other tests were fine. He scheduled me for the next Monday, Feb. 22, to see my regular OB who had been on vacation. If I had not progressed by the 22nd, I planned to ask my doc to wait another week to induce. I wanted to give my body as much time as I safely could to go into labor on its own.
I showed up at 8:50am on the 22nd, and thus began the roller coaster ride. My blood pressure was very high, and they found protein in my urine - both signs of preeclampsia, a potentially dangerous condition that a small percentage of pregnant women can develop late in pregnancy. I also told the doctor for the first time that I had experienced blurry vision (another sign) for the last couple of weeks. I just happened to mention it, as I didn't realize it was related to preeclampsia. Given all of this data, he was noticeably concerned and told me he wanted to deliver my baby "sooner rather than later".
I said, "Well, I was going to ask for another week..." He just looked at me; he obviously did not like that idea. So I said, "...but you're the doctor, so you tell me."
"I'm on call tomorrow," he said, "so I would like for you to check in to the hospital tonight." Right then, I realized that we were going down a different path than natural childbirth and I started to get a little emotional (which was honestly not rare at all during this time), but I held it in. He explained the basic schedule of what was going to happen at the hospital, and then he had to go and ask me how I was feeling! Well, I pretty much lost it then. If my sweet sister, Holly, wouldn't have been there with me, I would have felt even crazier than I already did. I was disappointed, and I was starting to get scared, and she really helped me feel normal. My doc did, too, and he assured me everything was going to be okay. They put me on the baby monitor for a little while, and the baby's heart rate and activity were stable, so he sent me home and told me to get some rest.
Side note :: It is still quite ironic to me that I was tasked with getting some rest on the day before the birth of my daughter.
I did get some rest physically, but mentally it was not even possible. My mom and grandma came over to help me pack my hospital bag (I know, I know...) and do other last minute things, so I could just lay around and wait to go to the hospital. Jeff got home from work around 6pm, and we were out the door at 7:30pm. I checked into the hospital that night, and they started pitocin at 7am the next morning.
I still tried to deliver without an epidural at first, because I was afraid it would slow down my labor. The contractions were manageable at this point - definitely the first stage - and sometimes I wasn't even aware I was having one until I looked at the monitor. At 1pm, my doctor came in and broke my water, and suddenly the contractions were really, really intense. There was almost no down time between contractions, either, and I wasn't mentally prepared for this huge increase in the pain level.
Around 3pm, I asked the nurse to check my progress. I told myself (no one else at this point) that if I was 5cm or less, I would ask for the epidural. She checked, and I was 3cm. Additionally, when she finished she said, "You know, I think that was a booty I just felt. It wasn't hard. It was soft." I felt a wave of fright come over me, and I whispered, "C-section." No one had said anything about that to that point; we weren't even 100% sure that she was breech. I believe it was the Holy Spirit who put those words in my mouth so I wouldn't be totally freaked later.
My nurse went to get the charge nurse, who check me as well and did an ultrasound and confirmed that Ava was breech. Then they called my doctor, who was there in 30 min, and he checked me AGAIN (3 times in less than an hour) and did another ultrasound. Oh, and at some point in there, they inserted the epidural. It's hard for me to remember the order of everything during that time. This definitely helped take the edge off the contractions, though, for which I was grateful. My doctor told me that my baby was frank breech and wasn't descending at all, so he wanted to just do a C-section. He led us in a prayer, then said he would be back in a couple hours to perform the surgery. I was so anxious for him and the nurses to leave the room so I could just be alone with Jeff and my mom, and as soon as they were out the door, I just lost it. I don't think I have ever cried that hard; I just needed some way to let it all out.
And I don't remember much of the next couple of hours. I may have slept some. The doctor got back to the hospital at 5pm, but we had to wait for the surgery room until 6pm due to another C-section. Finally they wheeled me in there. I do remember feeling good at this point...much less pain, and I knew I would see my little girl very soon. The doctor told me that he was going to pinch me, and if I feel anything I must tell him. Well, I really felt it. So they dosed the epidural again. Five minutes later, another pinch, and I still felt it. They did this two more times and it still didn't take completely, so they decided to do a spinal block. After everything else, this was the final straw for me mentally and emotionally, and I consciously decided to just shut down.
I didn't feel the insertion of the spinal block at all (thank God), and while it caused some nausea, it worked. Five minutes later, our baby was born. And while I was so far from the natural childbirth that I wanted, I did feel it when the doctor pulled her out; it felt like someone was pushing down on my chest. When I heard her cry, I cried from joy and relief. I have never praised the Lord like I did in those moments.
One very cool thing was that Jeff was the first one to see her and talk to her. The doctor had to give her to the NICU nurses to make sure she was breathing properly and had all the meconium cleaned out of her airways. I sent Jeff over to the warming table because I wanted her to at least hear someone she could recognize. I remember him saying, "Hey, baby girl. This is your daddy. Everything is going to be okay." He just said it over and over. What a wonderful moment for them to share! He was so calm and reassuring to her, and to me. The first time I held her was special, too. I couldn't believe how much I already loved her, and as soon as I saw her! My heart just ached, like it does when you fall in love...in fact, I was falling in love. I remember thinking, "Nothing will ever be the same."
And it hasn't.
I had a relatively uneventful pregnancy until the very end. Some mild morning sickness in the first trimester slowed me down a little. But then the awesomest second trimester ever (or at least I assume, since I've only had one) followed it. I felt fabulous physically, mentally, in every way. I don't think I have ever felt more "on top of the world" in my life than I did during this time. The third trimester brought with it more fatigue and some dramatic emotions (bless my husband's heart), and some pretty remarkable swelling. I felt like a big ol' tomato, and more than one stranger in the grocery store asked about my due date and informed me that they thought I could go at any moment. Thank you. Thank you so much.
But all in all, I still felt okay - at least not out of the ordinary for a full-term pregnant woman - and I began preparing for natural childbirth. Some people (interestingly, most had never been pregnant) told me I was crazy, but I remained confident that my body was made to do this and I could manage the pain. My husband, who is a registered nurse, and my obstetrician both cautioned me to stay open to other forms of childbirth just in case something happened or I had a change of heart during labor. I agreed to this, and learned what I could about natural childbirth while keeping a caveat in my mind for the special situation.
My due date was Friday, Feb. 19, and when I went for my weekly check-up on the previous Tuesday I had not progressed at all. The doctor noticed my swelling, but my blood pressure and other tests were fine. He scheduled me for the next Monday, Feb. 22, to see my regular OB who had been on vacation. If I had not progressed by the 22nd, I planned to ask my doc to wait another week to induce. I wanted to give my body as much time as I safely could to go into labor on its own.
I showed up at 8:50am on the 22nd, and thus began the roller coaster ride. My blood pressure was very high, and they found protein in my urine - both signs of preeclampsia, a potentially dangerous condition that a small percentage of pregnant women can develop late in pregnancy. I also told the doctor for the first time that I had experienced blurry vision (another sign) for the last couple of weeks. I just happened to mention it, as I didn't realize it was related to preeclampsia. Given all of this data, he was noticeably concerned and told me he wanted to deliver my baby "sooner rather than later".
I said, "Well, I was going to ask for another week..." He just looked at me; he obviously did not like that idea. So I said, "...but you're the doctor, so you tell me."
"I'm on call tomorrow," he said, "so I would like for you to check in to the hospital tonight." Right then, I realized that we were going down a different path than natural childbirth and I started to get a little emotional (which was honestly not rare at all during this time), but I held it in. He explained the basic schedule of what was going to happen at the hospital, and then he had to go and ask me how I was feeling! Well, I pretty much lost it then. If my sweet sister, Holly, wouldn't have been there with me, I would have felt even crazier than I already did. I was disappointed, and I was starting to get scared, and she really helped me feel normal. My doc did, too, and he assured me everything was going to be okay. They put me on the baby monitor for a little while, and the baby's heart rate and activity were stable, so he sent me home and told me to get some rest.
Side note :: It is still quite ironic to me that I was tasked with getting some rest on the day before the birth of my daughter.
I did get some rest physically, but mentally it was not even possible. My mom and grandma came over to help me pack my hospital bag (I know, I know...) and do other last minute things, so I could just lay around and wait to go to the hospital. Jeff got home from work around 6pm, and we were out the door at 7:30pm. I checked into the hospital that night, and they started pitocin at 7am the next morning.
I still tried to deliver without an epidural at first, because I was afraid it would slow down my labor. The contractions were manageable at this point - definitely the first stage - and sometimes I wasn't even aware I was having one until I looked at the monitor. At 1pm, my doctor came in and broke my water, and suddenly the contractions were really, really intense. There was almost no down time between contractions, either, and I wasn't mentally prepared for this huge increase in the pain level.
Around 3pm, I asked the nurse to check my progress. I told myself (no one else at this point) that if I was 5cm or less, I would ask for the epidural. She checked, and I was 3cm. Additionally, when she finished she said, "You know, I think that was a booty I just felt. It wasn't hard. It was soft." I felt a wave of fright come over me, and I whispered, "C-section." No one had said anything about that to that point; we weren't even 100% sure that she was breech. I believe it was the Holy Spirit who put those words in my mouth so I wouldn't be totally freaked later.
My nurse went to get the charge nurse, who check me as well and did an ultrasound and confirmed that Ava was breech. Then they called my doctor, who was there in 30 min, and he checked me AGAIN (3 times in less than an hour) and did another ultrasound. Oh, and at some point in there, they inserted the epidural. It's hard for me to remember the order of everything during that time. This definitely helped take the edge off the contractions, though, for which I was grateful. My doctor told me that my baby was frank breech and wasn't descending at all, so he wanted to just do a C-section. He led us in a prayer, then said he would be back in a couple hours to perform the surgery. I was so anxious for him and the nurses to leave the room so I could just be alone with Jeff and my mom, and as soon as they were out the door, I just lost it. I don't think I have ever cried that hard; I just needed some way to let it all out.
And I don't remember much of the next couple of hours. I may have slept some. The doctor got back to the hospital at 5pm, but we had to wait for the surgery room until 6pm due to another C-section. Finally they wheeled me in there. I do remember feeling good at this point...much less pain, and I knew I would see my little girl very soon. The doctor told me that he was going to pinch me, and if I feel anything I must tell him. Well, I really felt it. So they dosed the epidural again. Five minutes later, another pinch, and I still felt it. They did this two more times and it still didn't take completely, so they decided to do a spinal block. After everything else, this was the final straw for me mentally and emotionally, and I consciously decided to just shut down.
I didn't feel the insertion of the spinal block at all (thank God), and while it caused some nausea, it worked. Five minutes later, our baby was born. And while I was so far from the natural childbirth that I wanted, I did feel it when the doctor pulled her out; it felt like someone was pushing down on my chest. When I heard her cry, I cried from joy and relief. I have never praised the Lord like I did in those moments.
One very cool thing was that Jeff was the first one to see her and talk to her. The doctor had to give her to the NICU nurses to make sure she was breathing properly and had all the meconium cleaned out of her airways. I sent Jeff over to the warming table because I wanted her to at least hear someone she could recognize. I remember him saying, "Hey, baby girl. This is your daddy. Everything is going to be okay." He just said it over and over. What a wonderful moment for them to share! He was so calm and reassuring to her, and to me. The first time I held her was special, too. I couldn't believe how much I already loved her, and as soon as I saw her! My heart just ached, like it does when you fall in love...in fact, I was falling in love. I remember thinking, "Nothing will ever be the same."
And it hasn't.
[Here's a pic of our little Jelly Bean just moments after her birth. They had just taken her foot prints. Jeff is holding her hand. Also, the position of her legs will give you some indication of how she was arranged in the womb.]
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Mothering In Community
New season of life. New blog title. Why not?
The URL will remain the same as I don't want to lose or forget about what I've already written here, so come here for my new thoughts - and hopefully some new discussions - about this thing that I've been doing for thirteen days called BEING A MOTHER.
(Holy crap.)
Still feeling quite overwhelmed by that title as, naturally, it's something my mother would do and not me. But I can now state with a modest amount of force that I am not as overwhelmed as I was a week ago. A week ago, when I would be rocking our little Jelly Bean to sleep and trying to sing Brahms' Lullaby to her...and couldn't make it through ten notes without bursting into tears from joy and terror. Yes, both. Simultaneously.
"Oh my, I have a baby! Oh my...I have a baby?!"
Now would be a good time to say that I'm going to be as unfiltered as is possible in this public forum.
Because apparently this mothering thing is not for the faint of heart.
No, not exactly right, for I have "fainted" plenty over the last couple of weeks. More than I have in any two weeks of my life to date. But as my wonderful pastor said in church this morning (we watched it online), many times when God asks you to do something, He knows you can't do it. He's asking you to do it so that you can learn more about relying on Him.
So I hereby declare for the first of what will be countless times...I am, naturally, pretty self-focused. I have been childless for all of these thirty-two years, after all. I want to sleep when I want, and eat when I want, and shower when I want. I mean, a girl's got to have her dignity after all, right? Right?! Why isn't anyone saying anything?!!
Dignity is not adaptive to current conditions, and I can either hold fast to it and sink this ship, or I can release it and get about the business of surviving. (For me, just having this baby did a good job of loosening lots of that dignity, but that's another story for another time.)
So. I'm trying to eat when I can, and sleep and shower when I can. And maybe someday I'll start cleaning the kitchen again. But for now, this is enough for me.
Actually, in terms of responsibility and blessing, it's more than enough for me.
The URL will remain the same as I don't want to lose or forget about what I've already written here, so come here for my new thoughts - and hopefully some new discussions - about this thing that I've been doing for thirteen days called BEING A MOTHER.
(Holy crap.)
Still feeling quite overwhelmed by that title as, naturally, it's something my mother would do and not me. But I can now state with a modest amount of force that I am not as overwhelmed as I was a week ago. A week ago, when I would be rocking our little Jelly Bean to sleep and trying to sing Brahms' Lullaby to her...and couldn't make it through ten notes without bursting into tears from joy and terror. Yes, both. Simultaneously.
"Oh my, I have a baby! Oh my...I have a baby?!"
Now would be a good time to say that I'm going to be as unfiltered as is possible in this public forum.
Because apparently this mothering thing is not for the faint of heart.
No, not exactly right, for I have "fainted" plenty over the last couple of weeks. More than I have in any two weeks of my life to date. But as my wonderful pastor said in church this morning (we watched it online), many times when God asks you to do something, He knows you can't do it. He's asking you to do it so that you can learn more about relying on Him.
So I hereby declare for the first of what will be countless times...I am, naturally, pretty self-focused. I have been childless for all of these thirty-two years, after all. I want to sleep when I want, and eat when I want, and shower when I want. I mean, a girl's got to have her dignity after all, right? Right?! Why isn't anyone saying anything?!!
Dignity is not adaptive to current conditions, and I can either hold fast to it and sink this ship, or I can release it and get about the business of surviving. (For me, just having this baby did a good job of loosening lots of that dignity, but that's another story for another time.)
So. I'm trying to eat when I can, and sleep and shower when I can. And maybe someday I'll start cleaning the kitchen again. But for now, this is enough for me.
Actually, in terms of responsibility and blessing, it's more than enough for me.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
One Month And Counting
Exactly one month from my due date, I am feeling...honestly, pretty tired. And achy. But that's just physical stuff. Emotionally, mentally, and spiritually, I feel like I am just primed and ready to go! Ready to have our little girl with us and start the adventure of parenthood with her daddy. I am marveling today at the amazing timing of our Father. Throughout my life, His timing has remained to me the most mysterious and, ultimately, most praise-inducing aspect of His workings in my life.
Great is His faithfulness. His faithfulness is great.
When the Hunk and I met, nearly five years ago, it was a normal Sunday at church and we exchanged just a few words. We were attracted to each other, but that was about it for a couple months. I was kind-of-dating someone else at the time, and he wasn't interested in pursuing a relationship. The kind-of-dating relationship fizzled, as they often do. And then suddenly, here was this guy. And the more time we spent together, the more...comfortable...it felt. For both of us. And I remember thinking, "If we would have met a year ago, we might have completely passed each other over." I had learned some things and matured in some ways that, if I had met him earlier, I wouldn't have given it a second thought. His story is the same, by the way. And as it turns out, we are amazingly well-suited for each other. So...TIMING. Providence.
One of the ways in which we are well-suited is regarding our decision-making process. I tend to make quick, gut-level decisions, and he likes to consider each decision very carefully before he makes up his mind. So, yeah, we can really freak each other out sometimes. :) But we're learning, as you must do in marriage if you're going to have a peaceful and positive experience, to accept and even appreciate what your spouse brings to the table. You gotta learn how to work with what you've got. So when we (finally, from my perspective) decided to try to have kids, I was ready.
A year ago tomorrow, I was sitting in my doctor's office awaiting the results of a pregnancy test. I had taken one at home which had given an ambiguous result. It had the one line it was supposed to have, and a little sliver of the other line. Drove me crazy! :) So I went to the doctor. It was President Obama's Inauguration Day, and the cutest pictures of some multi-racial children (who turned out to be my PCP's grandkids) hung on the walls of the exam room. Let's just say my anticipation level was at an all-time high. After about ten minutes alone, the nurse stuck her head in, gave me the thumbs up, and said..."You're not pregnant!" Yes, the thumbs up. Apparently she had misread my anticipation as ambivalence, perhaps, and thought that would have been good news to me. Basically, it was not. I held it together until I saw the Hunk that night and told him what had happened.
Each month after that was a roller coaster of emotion. Is this the one? Will it happen this month? Please know that I gave it the good ol' college try to not be so excited...but I couldn't help it. I really was.
Then it finally happened! On Father's Day nonetheless, I got to tell the Hunk that he was going to be a daddy. Timing. Providence.
And today, as I sat down at my desk to start working, and saw the date...I was struck again at how perfect the Lord's timing has been in my life. I can honestly say that, even considering developments as recent as a week ago, I have never been more prepared to have a child. Is the nursery completely put together? No. Do we have any clue what awaits us? Heck no. On some level we know this is impossible. So I know I'm not "ready". But I'm ready. I'm peaceful, and as the old gospel song says...
Many things about tomorrow I don't seem to understand,
But I know who holds tomorrow,
And I know who holds my hand.
Great is His faithfulness. His faithfulness is great.
When the Hunk and I met, nearly five years ago, it was a normal Sunday at church and we exchanged just a few words. We were attracted to each other, but that was about it for a couple months. I was kind-of-dating someone else at the time, and he wasn't interested in pursuing a relationship. The kind-of-dating relationship fizzled, as they often do. And then suddenly, here was this guy. And the more time we spent together, the more...comfortable...it felt. For both of us. And I remember thinking, "If we would have met a year ago, we might have completely passed each other over." I had learned some things and matured in some ways that, if I had met him earlier, I wouldn't have given it a second thought. His story is the same, by the way. And as it turns out, we are amazingly well-suited for each other. So...TIMING. Providence.
One of the ways in which we are well-suited is regarding our decision-making process. I tend to make quick, gut-level decisions, and he likes to consider each decision very carefully before he makes up his mind. So, yeah, we can really freak each other out sometimes. :) But we're learning, as you must do in marriage if you're going to have a peaceful and positive experience, to accept and even appreciate what your spouse brings to the table. You gotta learn how to work with what you've got. So when we (finally, from my perspective) decided to try to have kids, I was ready.
A year ago tomorrow, I was sitting in my doctor's office awaiting the results of a pregnancy test. I had taken one at home which had given an ambiguous result. It had the one line it was supposed to have, and a little sliver of the other line. Drove me crazy! :) So I went to the doctor. It was President Obama's Inauguration Day, and the cutest pictures of some multi-racial children (who turned out to be my PCP's grandkids) hung on the walls of the exam room. Let's just say my anticipation level was at an all-time high. After about ten minutes alone, the nurse stuck her head in, gave me the thumbs up, and said..."You're not pregnant!" Yes, the thumbs up. Apparently she had misread my anticipation as ambivalence, perhaps, and thought that would have been good news to me. Basically, it was not. I held it together until I saw the Hunk that night and told him what had happened.
Each month after that was a roller coaster of emotion. Is this the one? Will it happen this month? Please know that I gave it the good ol' college try to not be so excited...but I couldn't help it. I really was.
Then it finally happened! On Father's Day nonetheless, I got to tell the Hunk that he was going to be a daddy. Timing. Providence.
And today, as I sat down at my desk to start working, and saw the date...I was struck again at how perfect the Lord's timing has been in my life. I can honestly say that, even considering developments as recent as a week ago, I have never been more prepared to have a child. Is the nursery completely put together? No. Do we have any clue what awaits us? Heck no. On some level we know this is impossible. So I know I'm not "ready". But I'm ready. I'm peaceful, and as the old gospel song says...
Many things about tomorrow I don't seem to understand,
But I know who holds tomorrow,
And I know who holds my hand.
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