Written by Lori Chaffer
You talk of hating war
But where's your own peacetime?
You don't love anymore
All my children
You linger in your mind, "Everyone's so unkind"
But you forget about the mines you laid on your land
I know the plans I have for you
I know the things that I want for you to do
I know the plans I have for you
And it hurts sometimes to see you blind
You read up on the lies
And keep them in motion
So clever the disguise of devotion
You say that there's no time
But there you stand joking
But you forgot that I'm the one
Who weighs the words you've spoken
I know the plans I have for you
I know the things that I want for you to do
I know the plans I have for you
And it hurts sometimes to see you cry
---------------------
Words from the heart of a prophet, I believe. May my fellow believers be encouraged by these lyrics to remember your responsibility to others, and your responsibility for the words you speak. For those words betray what you are so desperately trying to hide in your (black) heart. "So clever the disguise of devotion", indeed.
ELEVATE, my friends, beyond the petty concerns of temporary drama. There is a bigger story here, and you're missing it! Do you think you were made for more? Then, guess what? You were!
Get desperate. Get on your face in front of your Master.
There's not enough time!
Get off the sidelines today!
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Upside the Head
I love it when two areas of personal interest intersect. It's kind of like discovering a mutual friend with someone you really enjoy.
Last evening I was reading my group therapy text and, of all things, discovered an intersection between group therapy dynamics (area of interest #1) and church structure (area of interest #2). I'd like to share a quote from The Theory and Practice of Group Psychotherapy by Irvin Yalom, but first let me explain a couple of terms so that the impact of the text will be total for my kind readers.
In any group (which would include community groups, Bible study groups, etc., in addition to group therapy), there are always two things going on: content, and process. Content refers to what is said and done. But process refers to the "how" and "why" of the comments and actions. For example, if one group member is a single, young professional and another group member is a middle-aged homemaker...and the young person looks at the homemaker and says, "Parenthood is demeaning!"...the content is obviously very provocative and will probably start an argument.
But even more provocative and potentially life-changing can be the questions asked about the content, i.e. the process. Such as, "I wonder what is going on between these two individuals that he would attack her like this," or "Why did he set himself up for an attack with such a provocative statement?" These questions are referred to as process commentary.
So...here's the quote:
"Process commentary undermines arbitrary authority structure. Industrial organizational development consultants have long known that an organization's open investigation of its own structure and process leads to power equalization -- that is, a flattening of the hierarchical pyramid. Generally, individuals high on the pyramid not only are more technically informed but also possess organizational information that permits them to influence and manipulate: that is, they not only have skills that have allowed them to obtain a position of power but, once there, have such a central place in the flow of information that they are able to reinforce their position. The more rigid the authority structure of an organization, the more stringent are the precautions against open commentary about process (as in, for example, the military or the church). The individual who wishes to maintain a position of arbitrary authority is wise to inhibit the development of any rules permitting reciprocal process observation and commentary."
If any paragraph in all of literature can sum up the problems I have experienced with the church, I think this would be it. Don't let the layperson ask how we did something, or why we made this decision. And if they do ask, give them confusing, defensive, or deflective answers. Because we have to hold this thing together! Right? Isn't that the church leader's job?!
Actually, no.
As I read the Scripture, it's Jesus at the top and then the rest of us. Variously gifted, but equal. And just because someone is gifted to be a teacher or visionary (is that word even in the Scriptures?) doesn't mean they automatically make better decisions than one who is gifted to be hospitable, for example, and therefore should restrict the flow of information or the give-and-take of an equal relationship.
I think the most unfortunate thing in all of this is that less change happens. Less personal change, because we're all hedging and angling and hiding our true (black) hearts. I think Jesus said something about white-washed tombs that may apply here...
And isn't it everyone's job to love God first, and then love people? A tall order, no doubt, that none of us will perfect (I am so far from this that I can't imagine myself ever, in all of eternity, perfecting this) -- but one that gets so clouded by our natural fears and faults.
And, I am now even willing to say, our institutions.
Last evening I was reading my group therapy text and, of all things, discovered an intersection between group therapy dynamics (area of interest #1) and church structure (area of interest #2). I'd like to share a quote from The Theory and Practice of Group Psychotherapy by Irvin Yalom, but first let me explain a couple of terms so that the impact of the text will be total for my kind readers.
In any group (which would include community groups, Bible study groups, etc., in addition to group therapy), there are always two things going on: content, and process. Content refers to what is said and done. But process refers to the "how" and "why" of the comments and actions. For example, if one group member is a single, young professional and another group member is a middle-aged homemaker...and the young person looks at the homemaker and says, "Parenthood is demeaning!"...the content is obviously very provocative and will probably start an argument.
But even more provocative and potentially life-changing can be the questions asked about the content, i.e. the process. Such as, "I wonder what is going on between these two individuals that he would attack her like this," or "Why did he set himself up for an attack with such a provocative statement?" These questions are referred to as process commentary.
So...here's the quote:
"Process commentary undermines arbitrary authority structure. Industrial organizational development consultants have long known that an organization's open investigation of its own structure and process leads to power equalization -- that is, a flattening of the hierarchical pyramid. Generally, individuals high on the pyramid not only are more technically informed but also possess organizational information that permits them to influence and manipulate: that is, they not only have skills that have allowed them to obtain a position of power but, once there, have such a central place in the flow of information that they are able to reinforce their position. The more rigid the authority structure of an organization, the more stringent are the precautions against open commentary about process (as in, for example, the military or the church). The individual who wishes to maintain a position of arbitrary authority is wise to inhibit the development of any rules permitting reciprocal process observation and commentary."
If any paragraph in all of literature can sum up the problems I have experienced with the church, I think this would be it. Don't let the layperson ask how we did something, or why we made this decision. And if they do ask, give them confusing, defensive, or deflective answers. Because we have to hold this thing together! Right? Isn't that the church leader's job?!
Actually, no.
As I read the Scripture, it's Jesus at the top and then the rest of us. Variously gifted, but equal. And just because someone is gifted to be a teacher or visionary (is that word even in the Scriptures?) doesn't mean they automatically make better decisions than one who is gifted to be hospitable, for example, and therefore should restrict the flow of information or the give-and-take of an equal relationship.
I think the most unfortunate thing in all of this is that less change happens. Less personal change, because we're all hedging and angling and hiding our true (black) hearts. I think Jesus said something about white-washed tombs that may apply here...
And isn't it everyone's job to love God first, and then love people? A tall order, no doubt, that none of us will perfect (I am so far from this that I can't imagine myself ever, in all of eternity, perfecting this) -- but one that gets so clouded by our natural fears and faults.
And, I am now even willing to say, our institutions.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Do Not Operate Heavy Machinery...
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.
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.
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.]
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