At the end of my pregnancy with Elmer, when I would pray for him - for God's glory to be revealed through the life of my little son, for protection, for anointing, for Abba's hand to claim my little one as His...
I had a picture in my head for Elmer.
I still remember - being painfully swollen, but dropping to my knees - acknowledging the sovereignty of God in every area of my life- including as mother of Elmer, precious life in my womb. So much had been stripped away. My body was tender in those very last weeks. My joints were loose, preparing early for birth, my husband travelled more than usual, I relied heavily (without shame) on the kindnesses of friends - who carried me daily in prayer and in practical ways by feeding us, helping us and loving us.
So often when we're stripped bare, it's our best opportunity for communion with our Father... and I took that opportunity - with every dip of my eyelids, I found Him there - and I could agree with the Holy Spirit that the tiny son in my womb was created by God - knit together, fearfully and wonderfully made. All of his days ordained for the purposes of a Holy God, before one of them even came to be. Even though his form was hidden from me, he wasn't hidden from God. He wasn't created by the will of an earthly father - no... there was a bigger purpose even than that...
And then, I had that picture in my head.
The picture was a river.
The story of Moses' mother sending her son - surrendering him - down the river - would wreck me. And it was all I could do to imagine my fingers pried one by one off my precious one, understanding that His ways are better than mine.
***
There was another little life, 18 years ago growing in my womb. I was 19 and scared. My love for her was a gift from God and I would have fought to the death for her fragile life... I still would.
Last night, a pastor picked her out of a crowded room and spoke words of truth and blessing over her life. He asked those around her to lay their hands on her and he prayed for her life - for her influence... He spoke Matthew 5:14-16* over her, my precious girl - a light in this world... He spoke of her entering a new era of leadership as she becomes an adult in this next year -
and there's that river again...
And maybe most mothers understand that picture that I have in my head of a river. Maybe all of us choose to surrender our own will to God's in a mighty way when He sends these little ones to reside in our bodies, and we raise them to live their lives as living sacrifices (all of Romans 12) - holy and pleasing to God...
Sometimes I feel like my heart will burst with the magnitude of this holy work that He has given me in being wife to Neil and mama to these children...
And I send my own self down the river too - surrendering my all to Him.
*“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. 15 Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. 16 In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven."
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
posterior tongue tie - part 2
A week after Elmer's revision, his improvements seemed significant to me. I decided to wean him off the supplements. I decided if I just nursed him more - i'd have to pump less - and so I pumped less and less and nursed more and more - till I was nursing almost constantly. Within a couple of days, I realized that he wasn't pooping or peeing like he had been. He quit sleeping any longer chunks and was constantly fussing and rooting. I realized quickly that I needed to start pumping again, but those couple of days wreaked havoc on my supply *again* and I had to build it with constant pumping and nursing yet again. I finally awkwardly managed to figure out pumping and nursing at the same time to save some time - and as my supply returned, I found myself grateful that at least I *had* milk - even with the other trouble, I was grateful that it really could be so much worse.
By this time, I was two weeks past his revision... I went back to the dr. to check on his progress - and she confirmed that he was in no way ready to quit the supplements. She also wanted me to stay on the Domperidone - which honestly? It has a side effect that makes it impossible to lose weight - & unless i'm really careful, my body wants to gain weight... I know, I know... vanity... but I still have 10-15lbs leftover from pregnancy... and i'm used to it falling off at a nice pace... This little piece of my vanity makes me uncomfortable & it's not very fun... but... i'm a stubborn mama sometimes, and so the Domperidone stays - and apparently, so does the baby weight - until we really feel that I can wean off of it... and I guess I can't just yet.
The dr. wanted me to continue pumping like crazy, building up my supply to the point of oversupply to see if it makes it easier for Elmer to nurse.
I also decided to contact Dr. Jack Newman on his website to see if he had any insight into my situation. When you contact him, you have to limit your question to a certain number of characters - and it was really hard to be detailed and brief at the same time. As a result, his answer wasn't as useful as it could maybe have been, but I did take from it a renewed interest in the idea of breast compression. I had been foregoing the breast compressions in favour of the tandem nursing/pumping. I only have 2 hands after all... and I figured if I nursed, I could pump more - and maybe the reverse was true too... But after reading Dr. Newman's response, I rethought my goal. My ultimate goal isn't to pump more - my ultimate goal is to have Elmer solely on the breast - so I decided to go back to breastfeeding with compressions and then pumping after the feed. This seemed to have an almost immediate impact. He was swallowing more at the breast - it was like I was pumping - and instead of going into a bottle, it could go straight into my babe...
The breast compressions were so successful that even though I was terrified to quit pumping for fear i'd have to rebuild my milk supply yet again, I decided to try again. When Elmer was 5 days shy of 2 months, I quit pumping. I weighed him at the beginning and at the end of the trial and he had gained appropriately, so I felt confident to continue as we were and to continue weaning off the Domperidone too. This is a really slow, laborious process. I was on the lowest dosage of 8 pills per day, but even so, you have to wean down 1 pill every 4-5 days and if you notice a drop in supply you have to go back to the last dosage that was working and stay there for 2 weeks before attempting to wean down any further. Needless to say, i'm still in the process of weaning off of it, but honestly? It looks like at 2 months post partum that there's a light at the end of the tunnel & that we've made enough progress to feel pretty normal (we're down to 3 pills per day). This is a huge step considering our doctor felt at his last appointment that his latch was still unorganized and weak - enough so that she didn't feel sure we would ever be able to wean off the domperidone as long as we wanted to continue nursing.
I know that this journey was one that I chose. Other women would have chosen differently - & that is totally cool. I just knew that *I* needed to listen to my mama heart and do everything in my power to make this work. Yes, it was a ton of work - and yes, I wanted to quit several times... especially in the middle of the night when I hadn't slept. Yes, it hurt. A lot. Yes, I got discouraged and wondered if maybe we just weren't going to be able to do this thing...
But i'm so very glad that we were able...
And i'm looking forward to the next months and years of our breastfeeding relationship with tender hope and awed pleasure.
By this time, I was two weeks past his revision... I went back to the dr. to check on his progress - and she confirmed that he was in no way ready to quit the supplements. She also wanted me to stay on the Domperidone - which honestly? It has a side effect that makes it impossible to lose weight - & unless i'm really careful, my body wants to gain weight... I know, I know... vanity... but I still have 10-15lbs leftover from pregnancy... and i'm used to it falling off at a nice pace... This little piece of my vanity makes me uncomfortable & it's not very fun... but... i'm a stubborn mama sometimes, and so the Domperidone stays - and apparently, so does the baby weight - until we really feel that I can wean off of it... and I guess I can't just yet.
The dr. wanted me to continue pumping like crazy, building up my supply to the point of oversupply to see if it makes it easier for Elmer to nurse.
I also decided to contact Dr. Jack Newman on his website to see if he had any insight into my situation. When you contact him, you have to limit your question to a certain number of characters - and it was really hard to be detailed and brief at the same time. As a result, his answer wasn't as useful as it could maybe have been, but I did take from it a renewed interest in the idea of breast compression. I had been foregoing the breast compressions in favour of the tandem nursing/pumping. I only have 2 hands after all... and I figured if I nursed, I could pump more - and maybe the reverse was true too... But after reading Dr. Newman's response, I rethought my goal. My ultimate goal isn't to pump more - my ultimate goal is to have Elmer solely on the breast - so I decided to go back to breastfeeding with compressions and then pumping after the feed. This seemed to have an almost immediate impact. He was swallowing more at the breast - it was like I was pumping - and instead of going into a bottle, it could go straight into my babe...
The breast compressions were so successful that even though I was terrified to quit pumping for fear i'd have to rebuild my milk supply yet again, I decided to try again. When Elmer was 5 days shy of 2 months, I quit pumping. I weighed him at the beginning and at the end of the trial and he had gained appropriately, so I felt confident to continue as we were and to continue weaning off the Domperidone too. This is a really slow, laborious process. I was on the lowest dosage of 8 pills per day, but even so, you have to wean down 1 pill every 4-5 days and if you notice a drop in supply you have to go back to the last dosage that was working and stay there for 2 weeks before attempting to wean down any further. Needless to say, i'm still in the process of weaning off of it, but honestly? It looks like at 2 months post partum that there's a light at the end of the tunnel & that we've made enough progress to feel pretty normal (we're down to 3 pills per day). This is a huge step considering our doctor felt at his last appointment that his latch was still unorganized and weak - enough so that she didn't feel sure we would ever be able to wean off the domperidone as long as we wanted to continue nursing.
I know that this journey was one that I chose. Other women would have chosen differently - & that is totally cool. I just knew that *I* needed to listen to my mama heart and do everything in my power to make this work. Yes, it was a ton of work - and yes, I wanted to quit several times... especially in the middle of the night when I hadn't slept. Yes, it hurt. A lot. Yes, I got discouraged and wondered if maybe we just weren't going to be able to do this thing...
But i'm so very glad that we were able...
And i'm looking forward to the next months and years of our breastfeeding relationship with tender hope and awed pleasure.
Monday, July 22, 2013
posterior tongue tie part 1
This was written a few weeks ago... when I was hoping there wouldn't be a part 2... but there will be. We are still struggling now - but I thought I would share part 1.
****************************************
So, surely it must nearly be true that I have experienced almost every breastfeeding barrier in the world... Read my post Breastfeeding Anyway HERE to see what i'm talking about :) Elmer's nursing journey has been no exception - and it has taught me yet another gem of knowledge that I lacked before he came.
If you read Elmer's birth story, you'll know that he was born in a beautiful water birth. I didn't have an epidural - & baby was alert and content when he was born. After I held him in the water for as long as I wanted to - my midwives helped me stand and they wrapped us both in towels as I climbed carefully out of the tub carrying my tiny mite. They didn't want anyone else to take him, as they told me that research supported the claim that me holding him would help to establish our breastfeeding relationship (ha!) - even though I had been unable to get him to latch in the tub like I had with Ephraim when he was born.
As soon as I got out of the tub, I tried again, but we couldn't manage to latch. I honestly didn't think too much of it, as I was drunk on birth hormones - and giddy with my beautiful baby boy. We took our time, and finally it was time for the midwives to come and check him out and weigh and measure him. During their check, they saw that he had a pretty thick anterior tongue tie - his frenulum was stopping his tongue from releasing so that was likely why he hadn't been able to latch. They asked me if I wanted them to clip it. I immediately said yes. Just the day before, we found out that Charter (our 11 year old son) requires braces - and the orthodontist told me that this need was likely because he is tongue tied so his tongue never sat in his mouth correctly - so his palate is narrower and deeper than it should be.
My midwives proceeded to make what they said was a fairly deep frenulum cut - and Elmer miraculously latched.
We were pleased with his latch and it looked like he was sucking well. It was mildly uncomfortable right from the first latch - but breastfeeding has never been easy for me - and Reynauds usually causes quite a bit of pain early on - so again, I didn't think too much about it.
We went home, and Elmer continued to be difficult to latch, but that's not uncommon - & I never find the beginnings of breastfeeding easy - so I just continued doing what I was doing - until Elmer was 24 hours old... and then I couldn't latch him at all. It was evening, and he rooted and fussed for hunger - and I offered him the breast and he couldn't latch at all... I expressed milk into his little birdie mouth - and he swallowed, but couldn't lap it - or get latched on to get the milk himself. Neil went to bed, and I put myself to bed in another room, skin to skin with my newborn and continued to offer the breast every hour of the night - but we made no progress. I held a soother in his mouth to see if he could suck on it - I offered my finger to see what was happening, but his little tongue would just thrust it out. By the wee hours of the morning, I was almost delirious with exhaustion... I hadn't slept in days - with prelabour and then labour and the new tiny baby - and I couldn't figure out why something so hard was suddenly a hundred times harder than it should be.
By 8 am I was genuinely worried. My baby hadn't eaten anything at all in at least 12 hours and I wasn't sure how much he had taken in prior to that - I was sure he hadn't had much in the past 24 hours - as his latch had gotten progressively worse the previous day. I told Neil I was going to have to call the midwife, and as I said this, our doorbell rang - and it was the midwife stopping in!! I was so relieved to see her - and we immediately set about seeing what we could do about his latch.
She showed me how to put my finger on the roof of his mouth, wait for him to attempt to suck and then turn my finger and press down on his tongue to encourage him to "cup" rather than thrust. My midwife found it very odd that elmer wouldn't even suck a finger that was in his mouth. He would just sit gape mouthed with a finger pressing his tongue. Finally, she encouraged me to "bolus feed" him. I would express tiny precious drops of colostrum into a cup and use a spoon to encourage him to try to "lap" with his tongue. It seemed like he *could* do this - but not well - and very reluctantly. It would take forever for me to get the 2 teaspoons expressed and then slowly get him to take them in, and then try to breastfeed and then start again. This lasted until late afternoon when I finally got him to (painfully) latch on again.
When he would latch, I would do all I could to correct the latch that he had, pulling out his bottom jaw and fixing his upper lip (which had a very obvious tie - but was maneuverable). He would swallow for the initial let down, but then it was like he didn't know what to do - and he would let go - and cry for hunger. So, I would give him the other side and the same thing would happen.
My milk came in with a BANG like it always does - and through the engorgement, I expressed into the bath to try to stay soft enough to be able to feed him (if I would have known what would happen, I would have saved this milk for what came next!!)
Elmer had weighed 8 pounds at birth, by 4 days, he was 7 pounds 4 ounces... by 6 days, he was down another ounce... but it was such a small loss that the midwives felt he must be ready to turn around and we were confident that day 8 would see a gain. I nursed like crazy, doing hand compressions I had watched on a Dr. Newman youtube video. I scoured the internet when I was up all night, trying to find suggestions for babies with "weak suck", "how to fix baby's latch", etc... We nursed every hour of the day... but I didn't feel like we were having much success as his diapers were hardly wet and his poops were frothy with little substance.
Day 8 came and the midwife at first said, "no, there's no gain..." but then she remeasured and said, "Oh, yes there is - he has gained 100 grams!"
I was ecstatic. It had been so much work, but what we were doing must be working! It was worth it, I concluded and steeled myself for some sleepless nights and difficult long days of nursing to see a return to birth weight by the time we would weigh him at 2 weeks (most babies are back at birth weight between 10-14 days after birth).
Over the next 5 days though, I thought my little one looked gaunt. I hoped it was that he was growing, stretching... but I started to worry. His little face looked so thin, and as he was 22 inches at birth - such a long boy - his little legs looked just skeletal. By the time I brought him in a day before 2 weeks, I wasn't very confident that he had gained very well... but I was still shocked when they put him on the scale and he weighed 6 pounds 14 ounces. When I saw him naked, it was even more pitiful. He had good colour, and didn't have a sunken fontanel, but he had no flesh at all on his bones. His loss was 14% of his body weight and the midwives were pretty shocked and dismayed along with me. They let me cry in the back room as I rocked him and cuddled him and tried to nurse him as we talked about options. They told me 14% is just not ok - and we can't continue doing what we're doing... I agreed and told them if I had realized that he was still going down, I would have been more proactive - and borrowed the pump my friend had offered.
They said they felt like he should probably be supplemented with formula - & I balked. Two of my friends had offered their breastmilk - and my mama heart wanted him to have human milk. I told them I would pump and supplement with my own milk - but they were concerned that it was a supply problem. They wrote me a prescription for domperidone and told me that however I did it, he needed to be supplemented 40-60 mls after every feed - and he needed feeding every 2 hours around the clock. Another midwife that wasn't there at the time even phoned me at home and told me she wasn't comfortable with *not* using formula at this point - but I pushed for breastmilk and told her if we saw no gain in 2 days, that I would go out and buy formula immediately. I felt like I needed to follow my heart and give this a fair shot first - and so I did.
I dried my tears and got to work. I borrowed the pump from my friend and with my very first attempt, got the 60 mls he required after I had already fed him. He chomped and chewed, but took the bottle with minimal problems. My friends stepped up with the donor milk and so my routine for the next 5 days around the clock was to nurse my tiny one, then pump that side, then nurse the other side, then pump that side - then I would feed him whatever I had pumped (supplementing with donor milk when necessary). This would sometimes take over an hour - as he would need diaper changes in there too - and so I would have an hour break and then start again... around the clock. I was exhausted. I started the domperidone, fenugreek, blessed thistle and a mother's milk tea - but I couldn't keep up with the supplements - so whenever I couldn't pump anymore, I would give him milk from my mama friends and pray that he would grow. For 5 days, it was close to 50/50 donor milk to my expressed milk. I nursed him at the beginning of each of these feeds - but over the course of those 5 days, my milk increased and I used less and less donor milk. On the sixth day, he was back only on my milk.
We reweighed him after 2 days and he had gained 6 ounces. We were thrilled with this gain, and scheduled a reweigh for 3 days later. At this weigh in, he had gained another 6 ounces - putting him only 6 ounces from birth weight. I was so happy he was gaining - and his full diapers were soothing my mama heart - but deep down, I wondered what was the root of the problem? Why couldn't my baby eat? My number one goal had to be to get Elmer eating and gaining... but not far behind, I had another set of goals. I was going to get Elmer off donor milk, then I was going to figure out how to get him to get milk from me, not a bottle, and then I was going to get my body off of the domperidone, fenugreek and blessed thistle.
My midwives told me that whatever was going on with Elmer was beyond their scope and they referred me to a breastfeeding clinic here in the south of Calgary. One suggested that my age and number of babies maybe played a part in our problems (even though I knew this wasn't true... it rubbed raw and hurt my already hurting heart) - they had theories and suspicions, but couldn't nail what it was.
Finally on July 3rd, I went to the lactation clinic. Elmer was 2 weeks 6 days. I told Neil on the way, "if they try to 'fix my latch' I will scream."
"Why are you even going then?" he asked.
"I want help - but I want real help - I want them to figure out what's wrong..."
Early on, a good friend had suggested that Elmer sounded like he had a posterior tongue tie. She had a friend go through the experience of a posterior tongue tie and thought there sounded like there were similarities. My midwives told me it was a possibility but that it wasn't something they were trained to deal with - and that i'd need to ask at the breastfeeding clinic. So, I hoped that there would be an answer - but it didn't seem likely to my midwives since they had already clipped his frenulum at birth and they said his lip tie didn't usually impact breastfeeding.
I got to the clinic and filled out my paper work and they weighed Elmer. I started to get teary when we found he was 8 pounds even - finally at his birth weight! He had amazingly gained 18 ounces over only 1 week!
The nurse came in and after talking for only 2 minutes with her, I started to get excited. She started explaining to me the symptoms of a posterior tongue tie - how you can't see it, but you feel it. How it's different from a frenulum clip - but can have an enormous impact on the ability to breastfeed. She felt in his mouth and showed me how his tongue wasn't working properly - she pointed out that his palate was deep and narrow - a sign that his tongue hadn't ever been able to move freely even in the womb. She told me that a lip tie is a good indicator of a baby who likely has a posterior tie too. Everything that she said fit - she said with a posterior tongue tie - the mom is feeding the baby, but the baby is never feeding himself. It's too hard - so mom needs pumping, meds and constant feeds to help baby gain - but if baby could move his tongue, he could feed himself and it would be (almost) effortless.
She told me she was going to go get the doctor and see if she confirmed her suspicions.
She swung the door shut behind her and I picked up my baby.
I nuzzled my face right into his neck.
And I started to sob.
It was something real - it wasn't some horrible nightmare where suddenly my body didn't know how to do this... and it was something they could fix... and we could work on... and it would get better... and it was good that I didn't give up - and the nurse told me I was amazing, that she couldn't believe how well we had persevered... and the encouragement was like balm to my hurting, exhausted mama heart - and I couldn't stop the tears as I looked at my tiny son who I know had suffered. I knew that getting this release would hurt him, and I ached to know that he had to suffer more before we could start to get better, but I was so grateful that we had a path to start on...
The nurse returned before I could compose myself with the doctor - and they were both the picture of compassion as they tenderly wrapped my son in a blanket and fixed his tiny mouth. I nursed him right away as soon as they were done - and I could feel the difference as he inexpertly tried to figure out how to move his mouth and tongue.
One day later, he's still a very disorganized nurser. We have been given some exercises to do with him to try to get him to start using his tongue properly. They said it might take some time to relearn how to suck and how to effectively nurse - but I feel full of hope that we're on the road to recovery now.
And - that - is my extremely long story... and believe it or not, this is abbreviated to take out most of my *feelings*.
****************************************
So, surely it must nearly be true that I have experienced almost every breastfeeding barrier in the world... Read my post Breastfeeding Anyway HERE to see what i'm talking about :) Elmer's nursing journey has been no exception - and it has taught me yet another gem of knowledge that I lacked before he came.
If you read Elmer's birth story, you'll know that he was born in a beautiful water birth. I didn't have an epidural - & baby was alert and content when he was born. After I held him in the water for as long as I wanted to - my midwives helped me stand and they wrapped us both in towels as I climbed carefully out of the tub carrying my tiny mite. They didn't want anyone else to take him, as they told me that research supported the claim that me holding him would help to establish our breastfeeding relationship (ha!) - even though I had been unable to get him to latch in the tub like I had with Ephraim when he was born.
As soon as I got out of the tub, I tried again, but we couldn't manage to latch. I honestly didn't think too much of it, as I was drunk on birth hormones - and giddy with my beautiful baby boy. We took our time, and finally it was time for the midwives to come and check him out and weigh and measure him. During their check, they saw that he had a pretty thick anterior tongue tie - his frenulum was stopping his tongue from releasing so that was likely why he hadn't been able to latch. They asked me if I wanted them to clip it. I immediately said yes. Just the day before, we found out that Charter (our 11 year old son) requires braces - and the orthodontist told me that this need was likely because he is tongue tied so his tongue never sat in his mouth correctly - so his palate is narrower and deeper than it should be.
My midwives proceeded to make what they said was a fairly deep frenulum cut - and Elmer miraculously latched.
We were pleased with his latch and it looked like he was sucking well. It was mildly uncomfortable right from the first latch - but breastfeeding has never been easy for me - and Reynauds usually causes quite a bit of pain early on - so again, I didn't think too much about it.
We went home, and Elmer continued to be difficult to latch, but that's not uncommon - & I never find the beginnings of breastfeeding easy - so I just continued doing what I was doing - until Elmer was 24 hours old... and then I couldn't latch him at all. It was evening, and he rooted and fussed for hunger - and I offered him the breast and he couldn't latch at all... I expressed milk into his little birdie mouth - and he swallowed, but couldn't lap it - or get latched on to get the milk himself. Neil went to bed, and I put myself to bed in another room, skin to skin with my newborn and continued to offer the breast every hour of the night - but we made no progress. I held a soother in his mouth to see if he could suck on it - I offered my finger to see what was happening, but his little tongue would just thrust it out. By the wee hours of the morning, I was almost delirious with exhaustion... I hadn't slept in days - with prelabour and then labour and the new tiny baby - and I couldn't figure out why something so hard was suddenly a hundred times harder than it should be.
By 8 am I was genuinely worried. My baby hadn't eaten anything at all in at least 12 hours and I wasn't sure how much he had taken in prior to that - I was sure he hadn't had much in the past 24 hours - as his latch had gotten progressively worse the previous day. I told Neil I was going to have to call the midwife, and as I said this, our doorbell rang - and it was the midwife stopping in!! I was so relieved to see her - and we immediately set about seeing what we could do about his latch.
She showed me how to put my finger on the roof of his mouth, wait for him to attempt to suck and then turn my finger and press down on his tongue to encourage him to "cup" rather than thrust. My midwife found it very odd that elmer wouldn't even suck a finger that was in his mouth. He would just sit gape mouthed with a finger pressing his tongue. Finally, she encouraged me to "bolus feed" him. I would express tiny precious drops of colostrum into a cup and use a spoon to encourage him to try to "lap" with his tongue. It seemed like he *could* do this - but not well - and very reluctantly. It would take forever for me to get the 2 teaspoons expressed and then slowly get him to take them in, and then try to breastfeed and then start again. This lasted until late afternoon when I finally got him to (painfully) latch on again.
When he would latch, I would do all I could to correct the latch that he had, pulling out his bottom jaw and fixing his upper lip (which had a very obvious tie - but was maneuverable). He would swallow for the initial let down, but then it was like he didn't know what to do - and he would let go - and cry for hunger. So, I would give him the other side and the same thing would happen.
My milk came in with a BANG like it always does - and through the engorgement, I expressed into the bath to try to stay soft enough to be able to feed him (if I would have known what would happen, I would have saved this milk for what came next!!)
Elmer had weighed 8 pounds at birth, by 4 days, he was 7 pounds 4 ounces... by 6 days, he was down another ounce... but it was such a small loss that the midwives felt he must be ready to turn around and we were confident that day 8 would see a gain. I nursed like crazy, doing hand compressions I had watched on a Dr. Newman youtube video. I scoured the internet when I was up all night, trying to find suggestions for babies with "weak suck", "how to fix baby's latch", etc... We nursed every hour of the day... but I didn't feel like we were having much success as his diapers were hardly wet and his poops were frothy with little substance.
Day 8 came and the midwife at first said, "no, there's no gain..." but then she remeasured and said, "Oh, yes there is - he has gained 100 grams!"
I was ecstatic. It had been so much work, but what we were doing must be working! It was worth it, I concluded and steeled myself for some sleepless nights and difficult long days of nursing to see a return to birth weight by the time we would weigh him at 2 weeks (most babies are back at birth weight between 10-14 days after birth).
Over the next 5 days though, I thought my little one looked gaunt. I hoped it was that he was growing, stretching... but I started to worry. His little face looked so thin, and as he was 22 inches at birth - such a long boy - his little legs looked just skeletal. By the time I brought him in a day before 2 weeks, I wasn't very confident that he had gained very well... but I was still shocked when they put him on the scale and he weighed 6 pounds 14 ounces. When I saw him naked, it was even more pitiful. He had good colour, and didn't have a sunken fontanel, but he had no flesh at all on his bones. His loss was 14% of his body weight and the midwives were pretty shocked and dismayed along with me. They let me cry in the back room as I rocked him and cuddled him and tried to nurse him as we talked about options. They told me 14% is just not ok - and we can't continue doing what we're doing... I agreed and told them if I had realized that he was still going down, I would have been more proactive - and borrowed the pump my friend had offered.
They said they felt like he should probably be supplemented with formula - & I balked. Two of my friends had offered their breastmilk - and my mama heart wanted him to have human milk. I told them I would pump and supplement with my own milk - but they were concerned that it was a supply problem. They wrote me a prescription for domperidone and told me that however I did it, he needed to be supplemented 40-60 mls after every feed - and he needed feeding every 2 hours around the clock. Another midwife that wasn't there at the time even phoned me at home and told me she wasn't comfortable with *not* using formula at this point - but I pushed for breastmilk and told her if we saw no gain in 2 days, that I would go out and buy formula immediately. I felt like I needed to follow my heart and give this a fair shot first - and so I did.
I dried my tears and got to work. I borrowed the pump from my friend and with my very first attempt, got the 60 mls he required after I had already fed him. He chomped and chewed, but took the bottle with minimal problems. My friends stepped up with the donor milk and so my routine for the next 5 days around the clock was to nurse my tiny one, then pump that side, then nurse the other side, then pump that side - then I would feed him whatever I had pumped (supplementing with donor milk when necessary). This would sometimes take over an hour - as he would need diaper changes in there too - and so I would have an hour break and then start again... around the clock. I was exhausted. I started the domperidone, fenugreek, blessed thistle and a mother's milk tea - but I couldn't keep up with the supplements - so whenever I couldn't pump anymore, I would give him milk from my mama friends and pray that he would grow. For 5 days, it was close to 50/50 donor milk to my expressed milk. I nursed him at the beginning of each of these feeds - but over the course of those 5 days, my milk increased and I used less and less donor milk. On the sixth day, he was back only on my milk.
We reweighed him after 2 days and he had gained 6 ounces. We were thrilled with this gain, and scheduled a reweigh for 3 days later. At this weigh in, he had gained another 6 ounces - putting him only 6 ounces from birth weight. I was so happy he was gaining - and his full diapers were soothing my mama heart - but deep down, I wondered what was the root of the problem? Why couldn't my baby eat? My number one goal had to be to get Elmer eating and gaining... but not far behind, I had another set of goals. I was going to get Elmer off donor milk, then I was going to figure out how to get him to get milk from me, not a bottle, and then I was going to get my body off of the domperidone, fenugreek and blessed thistle.
My midwives told me that whatever was going on with Elmer was beyond their scope and they referred me to a breastfeeding clinic here in the south of Calgary. One suggested that my age and number of babies maybe played a part in our problems (even though I knew this wasn't true... it rubbed raw and hurt my already hurting heart) - they had theories and suspicions, but couldn't nail what it was.
Finally on July 3rd, I went to the lactation clinic. Elmer was 2 weeks 6 days. I told Neil on the way, "if they try to 'fix my latch' I will scream."
"Why are you even going then?" he asked.
"I want help - but I want real help - I want them to figure out what's wrong..."
Early on, a good friend had suggested that Elmer sounded like he had a posterior tongue tie. She had a friend go through the experience of a posterior tongue tie and thought there sounded like there were similarities. My midwives told me it was a possibility but that it wasn't something they were trained to deal with - and that i'd need to ask at the breastfeeding clinic. So, I hoped that there would be an answer - but it didn't seem likely to my midwives since they had already clipped his frenulum at birth and they said his lip tie didn't usually impact breastfeeding.
I got to the clinic and filled out my paper work and they weighed Elmer. I started to get teary when we found he was 8 pounds even - finally at his birth weight! He had amazingly gained 18 ounces over only 1 week!
The nurse came in and after talking for only 2 minutes with her, I started to get excited. She started explaining to me the symptoms of a posterior tongue tie - how you can't see it, but you feel it. How it's different from a frenulum clip - but can have an enormous impact on the ability to breastfeed. She felt in his mouth and showed me how his tongue wasn't working properly - she pointed out that his palate was deep and narrow - a sign that his tongue hadn't ever been able to move freely even in the womb. She told me that a lip tie is a good indicator of a baby who likely has a posterior tie too. Everything that she said fit - she said with a posterior tongue tie - the mom is feeding the baby, but the baby is never feeding himself. It's too hard - so mom needs pumping, meds and constant feeds to help baby gain - but if baby could move his tongue, he could feed himself and it would be (almost) effortless.
She told me she was going to go get the doctor and see if she confirmed her suspicions.
She swung the door shut behind her and I picked up my baby.
I nuzzled my face right into his neck.
And I started to sob.
It was something real - it wasn't some horrible nightmare where suddenly my body didn't know how to do this... and it was something they could fix... and we could work on... and it would get better... and it was good that I didn't give up - and the nurse told me I was amazing, that she couldn't believe how well we had persevered... and the encouragement was like balm to my hurting, exhausted mama heart - and I couldn't stop the tears as I looked at my tiny son who I know had suffered. I knew that getting this release would hurt him, and I ached to know that he had to suffer more before we could start to get better, but I was so grateful that we had a path to start on...
The nurse returned before I could compose myself with the doctor - and they were both the picture of compassion as they tenderly wrapped my son in a blanket and fixed his tiny mouth. I nursed him right away as soon as they were done - and I could feel the difference as he inexpertly tried to figure out how to move his mouth and tongue.
One day later, he's still a very disorganized nurser. We have been given some exercises to do with him to try to get him to start using his tongue properly. They said it might take some time to relearn how to suck and how to effectively nurse - but I feel full of hope that we're on the road to recovery now.
And - that - is my extremely long story... and believe it or not, this is abbreviated to take out most of my *feelings*.
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
elmer's birth
He's here.
i'm not very on the ball these days, but I want to blog his birth story before I forget all the little details that are already sifting through my fingertips like fine sand.
I carried Elmer past the ultrasound due dates...
I was comfortable and content. We had the due dates padded on my paperwork, and so I never felt rushed or that I was running out of time like i had when i carried Ephraim so long. Right before I hit my due dates, my joints decided to get ready to have baby and went all loose and made walking funny and awkward. I also got carpal tunnel in my hands - something I had never experienced before - and so the last tiny bit that I carried him, was a little more tender and ploddingly slow (but not unbearable by any stretch).
i'm not sure what day I first noticed that I might be leaking fluid, but since I've never leaked before, I pushed the idea out of my head. It continued though, and Tuesday night I noticed I was starting to get some contractions. They were very light and mild though and were easy enough to fall asleep in the midst of. I woke in the morning and didn't experience many more, but the leaking continued. I kind of argued with myself that if I was leaking, surely the few contractions would be enough to push me into real labour - as my labours have often begun with spontaneous rupture of membranes followed immediately by the onset of labour.
Neil had been travelling and was finally home on Tuesday night, so I told my body that it was ok to go into labour... that we could go now if all was ready. i knew he was going to be flying out early on Sunday morning, and i really wanted him to be there. I had hoped that I would carry baby till he was finished his last trip - as I know how challenging those first post partum days can be - especially flying solo... but I had long ago surrendered the timing of my little one's birth to my Heavenly Father - and I trusted that He knew best.
Tuesday night and Wednesday i had lots of show, with only a few mild contractions. i kept thinking that one little thing could push me over the brink into real labour... but nothing ever seemed to do it. Overnight Wednesday night, i was leaking enough that i started to wonder in earnest if it really could be my amniotic fluid... and then i started to wonder if it was my amniotic fluid, how long had it been broken? i had tested GBS positive for the first time ever this pregnancy and the thought of having broken waters for days on end made me uncomfortable so i called my midwife in the morning and told her what had been happening. By then, (of course - isn't that how it always is?) the leaking quit - and she was concerned that because of the show, the test strips might not be very accurate anyway - but she wanted me to keep in touch if symptoms continued.
It ended up being a really busy day. My older kids had exams in Okotoks and Neil had meetings - i ended up being busy all day. By the time i got home, i was feeling restless and a little frustrated. i sat down at the kitchen table to work on a tiny bench i was going to paint for our bathroom, and i felt another very tiny leak of fluid, so i picked up the phone and called my midwife again. She suggested we meet at the clinic and she would see if the swab came back positive for amniotic fluid.
We drove to the clinic - and i hoped furiously that my water was still intact and that i could just go home and wait in peace. There wasn't even enough moisture to require wearing a pad after all, and i really hoped that the restless unease was just the end of pregnancy jitters. When we got to the clinic, my midwife noted that i wasn't wearing a pad and gave me some hope that all was well, but when she swabbed, it immediately turned a deep blue confirming what i already knew deep down - that i had some kind of a rupture and that our little one was going to be needing to be encouraged to come sooner rather than later.
Discouraged, i looked at my midwife and sighed, "What now?"
i had been counting on avoiding the antibiotics by having one of my usual quick births - but now with the increased risk of ruptured membranes, i wasn't willing to decline the antibiotics any longer.
We talked about it, and i felt a ton of peace and trust - which is so rare for me - in taking the antibiotics and also an "induction smoothie" whose active ingredients are lemon verbena and castor oil. It was funny to run out to Neil's truck and tell him the midwife needed him to go get some supplies.
"Ok," he responded, turning the ignition, "What do i need?"
"She wants you to go to the grocery store and get peanut butter and orange juice."
"Um, for real?"
"Yeah... we're makin' a smoothie."
So he did - and then she made him mix it up too using their special recipe - and he felt very useful. It wasn't gross at all - lemon, peanut butter and orange juice make it palatable and i guzzled it down and watched the midwife start an IV for the antibiotics.
Within the hour (around 5:45pm), we were headed home with instructions not to wait too long. My midwife was as convinced as we were that with just the tiniest push, my labour would fly out of control and we wanted to be sure to have enough time to make it to the birthing center.
The one thing that made me kind of sad was the fact that it was the night of Sloanie's violin recital. We talked about going to the recital, and just leaving if we had to - or different ways that we could make it work... but in the end, we decided that we were just going to have to miss it. We called Sloanie and she didn't skip a beat - just assured us that it was fine - and she was excited for the imminent arrival of her sweet baby brother.
We arrived home, and Sloanie had fed her siblings as Cai had been at work until i called her and asked tentatively, "Think you could get out of work tonight and come with?" (Her friend George volunteered to work overtime so my chicky could come home, and so I owe a debt of gratitude to an employee of Dairy Queen who I haven't met yet). Peyton volunteered to babysit the rest of our crew since she had come to Ephraim's birth and she said she would give Mollen a chance to come since she was my only daughter who hadn't been able to attend a birth. There was a bubbling excitement in the house as we made ready - but finally everything was done that needed to be done and we looked blankly at each other, "What now?"
i wasn't in labour - but the idea of travelling to the birthing center in the throes of hard labour wasn't all that appealing either, so i called my midwife and asked her if we could just head over since we were committed to having baby now anyway - and just count on labour kicking in once we got there. She agreed to meet us there so we packed our girlies and one empty car seat in the truck and headed out.
i was getting some random, painless contractions on the way there... and i asked Neil if we could start listening to my birthy play list while we drove... i had made some good choices putting it together... and as i surrendered by body and my plans for this birth and even the tiny child within me into God's hands, the tears just flowed. The birthing center isn't that far from our city's abortion clinic... and as we drove past the clinic, i looked back. i saw the gate shut tight across the parking lot entrance - and i prayed for Life.
When we arrived, my midwife decided she might as well check me now (her previous exam at the clinic had been a speculum exam because she didn't want to give me a full pelvic exam because of my gbs status). At the clinic, i had been high and closed, and despite the fact that it hadn't been very long, and i hadn't experienced many contractions, i hoped for progress. As soon as she checked me, my water broke in earnest and i couldn't even hold in a huge sigh of disappointment to see that it was stained with meconium.
My midwife again, was the calm voice of reason and she told me that she's required to tell me that the recommendation with meconium staining is a hospital birth. i asked her how she felt and she told me she was perfectly comfortable where we were... i told her i was too... and we decided to stay.
i had made a little progress, but not much, and having checked the baby's position in the womb, my midwife wanted to try some different positions to see if we could get his little head turned into a better position for birth. Finally, she smiled at me, "We're gonna go do some stairs now..."
She had me going up the stairs with wide legs and deep squats. When a contraction would come, she would get me to take two stairs and lean into it for the duration of the contraction. My contractions were really too short and mild to be making much progress, but i did the stairs till i was breathless - and before we knew it, it was time for the second dose of antibiotics and smoothie. i sat at the table as they mixed the antibiotics and they plugged it into the little port they had left in my arm. i begged to have it taken out now that i had taken both doses of antibiotics, but they seemed to want to keep it in for the duration now that we had it inserted. As the antibiotics finished, suddenly i felt *another* pop and a gush - and my water broke again.
"Surely now..." i murmered...
My midwife was baffled at the extra rupture, but was pleased that this water appeared clear... It was around 9:45 when i had the second dose of antibiotics and downed the second dose of lemon verbena. Slowly, slowly, slowly... the contractions picked up in frequency, duration and intensity... It wasn't long before i asked to get in the tub, and my midwife said looking at my countenance was enough to tell her I had made progress, I was finally not laughing, so she told me to go for it.
The water brought immediate relief.
i wasn't sure if i had been making progress or not - and i was a little worried that the water would slow the progress since it had been so much work to get me going and that was unfamiliar to me. My midwife told me she wasn't worried though, so i just enjoyed Mother Nature's epidural and breathed and coped through the contractions and let the water soothe me and the music that Cai played bring me peace.
It wasn't long and the contractions were overwhelming. i didn't feel strong and fearless - & that's ok - you feel what you feel in labour, each one is it's own journey... This one didn't come to catch me, i ran looking for it - and met it... despite my weakness.
i felt his head descend inside my body and wondered if it was time to push. My midwife managed to check me without getting me out of the water and helped me get the last tiny lip of cervix out of the way.
i worked so hard. It hurt, and i pushed... i felt him descend even more... The room was very dark and i was more vocal - but not out of control. Neil squeezed himself into a tiny corner beside the tub - and when i cried, "i don't want another contraction, i don't want to do this..."
He wryly added, "Babe, i'm tired - i want another contraction... Let's do this..."
And no matter what either one of us wanted, my tiny one descended and my body pushed and did what it was designed to do and i reached down in the water and felt his head crown and slip from my body.
"His head is out..." i groaned to the midwife.
Strains of One Thing Remains in the blackened room... "Your love never fails, never gives up, never runs out on me... Your love never fails, never gives up, never runs out on me...
"Oh, it is?" She laughed softly and helped me to get in a better position to push out his body.
(I was going through Sloan's pictures after and I found a video that was pitch black... I was going to delete it, but I hit play... I heard my midwife's voice, "I think it's time to get the sisters". There was the sound of the soft lapping of water and then my groan as he was born, and the midwife's gentle acknowledgement, "Intense eh?" to my pitiful, "That was such hard work..." Quite an amazing thing to hear... )
i pulled him from the water, and clutched his tiny body to mine. He was so peaceful, he didn't want to cry. He breathed and looked around, wide eyed, grasping tiny wrinkled fingers at the air - pressed close to his mama, half submerged in the warmth of the water, blinking in the dim light as we spoke in lowered tones and waited for his cord to stop pulsing.
"What a peaceful birth..." The midwives smiled at my son - and i thought in that moment that i was so grateful that even after the decades of midwifery experience between these two women, the mystery and magic of childbirth was obviously not old for them... i was so glad for the women who attended his birth.
It was 11:51pm when he was born, and we made it home by 2:30am - I insisted on stopping at McDonalds for a Big Mac on the way, much to Neil's dismay... he was exhausted after all the resting on the couch he had done and wanted to get home to bed. ;)
The next day, we chose his name:
And there are so many more bits and pieces and stories I want to tell and pictures of grace in the midst of the vulnerability of new life... but if I don't post this now, i'm beginning to doubt I ever will... Blogging became tricky for so many, many reasons in the past couple of years and i'm out of habit and practice... and it shows :)
Elmer, you are a blessing to this family. We are so in love with you already - and I pray (yesterday it was in a sobbing half shouted prayer in the privacy of the little orange car)... that you will be a willing vessel for God to accomplish His good works through you.
Oh buddy, mama is just so blessed - in tearful gratitude for the precious gift of your life. I just know we're going to be special friends...
i'm not very on the ball these days, but I want to blog his birth story before I forget all the little details that are already sifting through my fingertips like fine sand.
I carried Elmer past the ultrasound due dates...
 |
| We're having a baby today! 40 weeks 5 days. |
i'm not sure what day I first noticed that I might be leaking fluid, but since I've never leaked before, I pushed the idea out of my head. It continued though, and Tuesday night I noticed I was starting to get some contractions. They were very light and mild though and were easy enough to fall asleep in the midst of. I woke in the morning and didn't experience many more, but the leaking continued. I kind of argued with myself that if I was leaking, surely the few contractions would be enough to push me into real labour - as my labours have often begun with spontaneous rupture of membranes followed immediately by the onset of labour.
Neil had been travelling and was finally home on Tuesday night, so I told my body that it was ok to go into labour... that we could go now if all was ready. i knew he was going to be flying out early on Sunday morning, and i really wanted him to be there. I had hoped that I would carry baby till he was finished his last trip - as I know how challenging those first post partum days can be - especially flying solo... but I had long ago surrendered the timing of my little one's birth to my Heavenly Father - and I trusted that He knew best.
Tuesday night and Wednesday i had lots of show, with only a few mild contractions. i kept thinking that one little thing could push me over the brink into real labour... but nothing ever seemed to do it. Overnight Wednesday night, i was leaking enough that i started to wonder in earnest if it really could be my amniotic fluid... and then i started to wonder if it was my amniotic fluid, how long had it been broken? i had tested GBS positive for the first time ever this pregnancy and the thought of having broken waters for days on end made me uncomfortable so i called my midwife in the morning and told her what had been happening. By then, (of course - isn't that how it always is?) the leaking quit - and she was concerned that because of the show, the test strips might not be very accurate anyway - but she wanted me to keep in touch if symptoms continued.
It ended up being a really busy day. My older kids had exams in Okotoks and Neil had meetings - i ended up being busy all day. By the time i got home, i was feeling restless and a little frustrated. i sat down at the kitchen table to work on a tiny bench i was going to paint for our bathroom, and i felt another very tiny leak of fluid, so i picked up the phone and called my midwife again. She suggested we meet at the clinic and she would see if the swab came back positive for amniotic fluid.
We drove to the clinic - and i hoped furiously that my water was still intact and that i could just go home and wait in peace. There wasn't even enough moisture to require wearing a pad after all, and i really hoped that the restless unease was just the end of pregnancy jitters. When we got to the clinic, my midwife noted that i wasn't wearing a pad and gave me some hope that all was well, but when she swabbed, it immediately turned a deep blue confirming what i already knew deep down - that i had some kind of a rupture and that our little one was going to be needing to be encouraged to come sooner rather than later.
Discouraged, i looked at my midwife and sighed, "What now?"
i had been counting on avoiding the antibiotics by having one of my usual quick births - but now with the increased risk of ruptured membranes, i wasn't willing to decline the antibiotics any longer.
We talked about it, and i felt a ton of peace and trust - which is so rare for me - in taking the antibiotics and also an "induction smoothie" whose active ingredients are lemon verbena and castor oil. It was funny to run out to Neil's truck and tell him the midwife needed him to go get some supplies.
"Ok," he responded, turning the ignition, "What do i need?"
"She wants you to go to the grocery store and get peanut butter and orange juice."
"Um, for real?"
"Yeah... we're makin' a smoothie."
So he did - and then she made him mix it up too using their special recipe - and he felt very useful. It wasn't gross at all - lemon, peanut butter and orange juice make it palatable and i guzzled it down and watched the midwife start an IV for the antibiotics.
Within the hour (around 5:45pm), we were headed home with instructions not to wait too long. My midwife was as convinced as we were that with just the tiniest push, my labour would fly out of control and we wanted to be sure to have enough time to make it to the birthing center.
The one thing that made me kind of sad was the fact that it was the night of Sloanie's violin recital. We talked about going to the recital, and just leaving if we had to - or different ways that we could make it work... but in the end, we decided that we were just going to have to miss it. We called Sloanie and she didn't skip a beat - just assured us that it was fine - and she was excited for the imminent arrival of her sweet baby brother.
We arrived home, and Sloanie had fed her siblings as Cai had been at work until i called her and asked tentatively, "Think you could get out of work tonight and come with?" (Her friend George volunteered to work overtime so my chicky could come home, and so I owe a debt of gratitude to an employee of Dairy Queen who I haven't met yet). Peyton volunteered to babysit the rest of our crew since she had come to Ephraim's birth and she said she would give Mollen a chance to come since she was my only daughter who hadn't been able to attend a birth. There was a bubbling excitement in the house as we made ready - but finally everything was done that needed to be done and we looked blankly at each other, "What now?"
i wasn't in labour - but the idea of travelling to the birthing center in the throes of hard labour wasn't all that appealing either, so i called my midwife and asked her if we could just head over since we were committed to having baby now anyway - and just count on labour kicking in once we got there. She agreed to meet us there so we packed our girlies and one empty car seat in the truck and headed out.
 |
| Took a bit of convincing to get Neil to add the second finger. He's bad. :) |
When we arrived, my midwife decided she might as well check me now (her previous exam at the clinic had been a speculum exam because she didn't want to give me a full pelvic exam because of my gbs status). At the clinic, i had been high and closed, and despite the fact that it hadn't been very long, and i hadn't experienced many contractions, i hoped for progress. As soon as she checked me, my water broke in earnest and i couldn't even hold in a huge sigh of disappointment to see that it was stained with meconium.
My midwife again, was the calm voice of reason and she told me that she's required to tell me that the recommendation with meconium staining is a hospital birth. i asked her how she felt and she told me she was perfectly comfortable where we were... i told her i was too... and we decided to stay.
i had made a little progress, but not much, and having checked the baby's position in the womb, my midwife wanted to try some different positions to see if we could get his little head turned into a better position for birth. Finally, she smiled at me, "We're gonna go do some stairs now..."
"Surely now..." i murmered...
My midwife was baffled at the extra rupture, but was pleased that this water appeared clear... It was around 9:45 when i had the second dose of antibiotics and downed the second dose of lemon verbena. Slowly, slowly, slowly... the contractions picked up in frequency, duration and intensity... It wasn't long before i asked to get in the tub, and my midwife said looking at my countenance was enough to tell her I had made progress, I was finally not laughing, so she told me to go for it.
The water brought immediate relief.
i wasn't sure if i had been making progress or not - and i was a little worried that the water would slow the progress since it had been so much work to get me going and that was unfamiliar to me. My midwife told me she wasn't worried though, so i just enjoyed Mother Nature's epidural and breathed and coped through the contractions and let the water soothe me and the music that Cai played bring me peace.
It wasn't long and the contractions were overwhelming. i didn't feel strong and fearless - & that's ok - you feel what you feel in labour, each one is it's own journey... This one didn't come to catch me, i ran looking for it - and met it... despite my weakness.
i felt his head descend inside my body and wondered if it was time to push. My midwife managed to check me without getting me out of the water and helped me get the last tiny lip of cervix out of the way.
i worked so hard. It hurt, and i pushed... i felt him descend even more... The room was very dark and i was more vocal - but not out of control. Neil squeezed himself into a tiny corner beside the tub - and when i cried, "i don't want another contraction, i don't want to do this..."
He wryly added, "Babe, i'm tired - i want another contraction... Let's do this..."
And no matter what either one of us wanted, my tiny one descended and my body pushed and did what it was designed to do and i reached down in the water and felt his head crown and slip from my body.
"His head is out..." i groaned to the midwife.
Strains of One Thing Remains in the blackened room... "Your love never fails, never gives up, never runs out on me... Your love never fails, never gives up, never runs out on me...
"Oh, it is?" She laughed softly and helped me to get in a better position to push out his body.
(I was going through Sloan's pictures after and I found a video that was pitch black... I was going to delete it, but I hit play... I heard my midwife's voice, "I think it's time to get the sisters". There was the sound of the soft lapping of water and then my groan as he was born, and the midwife's gentle acknowledgement, "Intense eh?" to my pitiful, "That was such hard work..." Quite an amazing thing to hear... )
"What a peaceful birth..." The midwives smiled at my son - and i thought in that moment that i was so grateful that even after the decades of midwifery experience between these two women, the mystery and magic of childbirth was obviously not old for them... i was so glad for the women who attended his birth.
It was 11:51pm when he was born, and we made it home by 2:30am - I insisted on stopping at McDonalds for a Big Mac on the way, much to Neil's dismay... he was exhausted after all the resting on the couch he had done and wanted to get home to bed. ;)
The next day, we chose his name:
Elmer, you are a blessing to this family. We are so in love with you already - and I pray (yesterday it was in a sobbing half shouted prayer in the privacy of the little orange car)... that you will be a willing vessel for God to accomplish His good works through you.
Oh buddy, mama is just so blessed - in tearful gratitude for the precious gift of your life. I just know we're going to be special friends...
 |
| late night for miss mollen... |
 |
| They added a banner stating, "It's a BOY" to the window a few hours after this picture was taken. Elmer was the third baby born at the birthing center that day... |
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| "I need some support." "Oh? Could you come over here? I've got to check some emails..." |
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| That's my bikini top clutched in my hand... getting ready to get in the tub.. |
 |
| 5 days old |
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| 5 days old... precious pictures taken by Carey Stevens photography. You can see more HERE. |
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
egypt
It was my last time leading worship in my home church until the little baby boy arrives... so i got the chance to sit through most of all three services...
Our pastor is working through a series on the life of Moses - and it has been good, meaty stuff. In a breath of his sermon today, he gently offered the challenge, "When the Israelites ran into difficulty, their first impulse was to go back to Egypt... what do you turn to when things get difficult?" He suggested that for some, it might be a habit of alcohol... pornography... or what he personally struggled with; apathy and laziness.
And as i sat with my swollen belly resting uncomfortably on my lap, i wondered what my Egypt might be...
i wondered if it was my habit to compulsively over think anything and everything, or if it was a weakness that had not yet been revealed to me, but was apparent and obvious to everyone around me...
And then i hit on it...
i was pretty sure that my Egypt was self-pity.
"Unloved" is my heart's petulant cry when met with difficulty, and with a sigh of acceptance, i meekly turn from freedom and accept the 'comfort' of the familiar slavery of self pity. i decided to watch for it - to guard against it - to remember that when difficulty comes, He sees, He hears and He has compassion on me... i'm fed, clothed and so tenderly led - and i truly do want to walk in freedom. Loved.
i didn't have to wait long to be tested in my resolve.
At the end of a long day, i sat down with a flock of young lambs who have no idea the vulnerability that the 39th week of pregnancy brings. My hands ache - a new pregnancy symptom i've never had before - and the end of the day shows my very real weaknesses as my body slows into a gentler, more careful gait. I have had a beautiful, healthy pregnancy - but any pregnancy is hard work. It's physically, emotionally and spiritually demanding... bringing me again and again to depend on others and surrendering my own comfort and vanity for the sake of another tiny person.
I've loved becoming "that house" - full of my own children and the children of others. I love getting to know them, letting them into our lives and getting a peek into theirs. My life has been enriched and my faith has been fed by the extra teens that sneak into my house, laze on my couch and have wormed their way so completely into my heart...
They were playing music... and then the little voice of one of my own lambs chirped, "My friend's dad told me that you and dad should stop having naps together..."
"Yeah, my mom says you guys have too many kids... You should stop."
And i smiled... but tears welled up in my eyes... And i *know*... these are gentle jests... These are my friends - and these little lambs don't know that sometimes i feel tired swimming upstream - so constantly called to a different shore...
And i couldn't respond...
"Yeah," continued one of my own little lambs... "i'm getting tired already of the comments, 'is your mom about ready to be done yet?' or, 'You guys already have such a big family, you must hate it...' It's like, enough already!"
Her eyes followed me as i got up to sweep and i think she guessed what might lie behind the plastic mask of a smile on my face...
i know these comments are idle - and they mean nothing to me - or to the tiny one i carry... and they certainly take nothing away from this marathon journey of pregnancy, and these final aching days as we prepare to cross the finish line... And honestly? People have been so kind... too kind... like, bend over backwards, *over blessed* kind... and i *know that i know that i know*... that there isn't one scrap of malice or cruelty in these words... but in an instant...
i began to turn back to Egypt.
"Hey daughter... want freedom?"
He whispers...
"Yes, Papa..." i pray... i'm sweeping the crumbs from beneath my large family dining table... swallowing the lump in my throat and cursing the hormones that make my emotions run far too close to the surface.
And in that moment, I choose to raise my eyes above the teasing confusion of my fellow Israelite wanderers to the majestic sight of fire and cloud leading us Homeward in the sky... I beg Him to speak truth.
And suddenly i'm filled with a certainty... that this boy that I carry, is God's workmanship... Before he was formed in the womb, God knew him... Abba Father... is knitting him together in the secret place to do good things. The work i'm doing? It's not in vain... Jehovah-Nissi - my banner - is using me, His daughter. My willingness to carry this little one for His sake is not something to be scorned or looked down upon... it is a beautiful work, and one that will carry eternal consequences... and Jehovah-Raah - my shepherd - is so gently leading me...
Out of Egypt...
Out of slavery...
Out of self pity...
Into freedom.
Our pastor is working through a series on the life of Moses - and it has been good, meaty stuff. In a breath of his sermon today, he gently offered the challenge, "When the Israelites ran into difficulty, their first impulse was to go back to Egypt... what do you turn to when things get difficult?" He suggested that for some, it might be a habit of alcohol... pornography... or what he personally struggled with; apathy and laziness.
And as i sat with my swollen belly resting uncomfortably on my lap, i wondered what my Egypt might be...
i wondered if it was my habit to compulsively over think anything and everything, or if it was a weakness that had not yet been revealed to me, but was apparent and obvious to everyone around me...
And then i hit on it...
i was pretty sure that my Egypt was self-pity.
"Unloved" is my heart's petulant cry when met with difficulty, and with a sigh of acceptance, i meekly turn from freedom and accept the 'comfort' of the familiar slavery of self pity. i decided to watch for it - to guard against it - to remember that when difficulty comes, He sees, He hears and He has compassion on me... i'm fed, clothed and so tenderly led - and i truly do want to walk in freedom. Loved.
i didn't have to wait long to be tested in my resolve.
At the end of a long day, i sat down with a flock of young lambs who have no idea the vulnerability that the 39th week of pregnancy brings. My hands ache - a new pregnancy symptom i've never had before - and the end of the day shows my very real weaknesses as my body slows into a gentler, more careful gait. I have had a beautiful, healthy pregnancy - but any pregnancy is hard work. It's physically, emotionally and spiritually demanding... bringing me again and again to depend on others and surrendering my own comfort and vanity for the sake of another tiny person.
I've loved becoming "that house" - full of my own children and the children of others. I love getting to know them, letting them into our lives and getting a peek into theirs. My life has been enriched and my faith has been fed by the extra teens that sneak into my house, laze on my couch and have wormed their way so completely into my heart...
They were playing music... and then the little voice of one of my own lambs chirped, "My friend's dad told me that you and dad should stop having naps together..."
"Yeah, my mom says you guys have too many kids... You should stop."
And i smiled... but tears welled up in my eyes... And i *know*... these are gentle jests... These are my friends - and these little lambs don't know that sometimes i feel tired swimming upstream - so constantly called to a different shore...
And i couldn't respond...
"Yeah," continued one of my own little lambs... "i'm getting tired already of the comments, 'is your mom about ready to be done yet?' or, 'You guys already have such a big family, you must hate it...' It's like, enough already!"
Her eyes followed me as i got up to sweep and i think she guessed what might lie behind the plastic mask of a smile on my face...
i know these comments are idle - and they mean nothing to me - or to the tiny one i carry... and they certainly take nothing away from this marathon journey of pregnancy, and these final aching days as we prepare to cross the finish line... And honestly? People have been so kind... too kind... like, bend over backwards, *over blessed* kind... and i *know that i know that i know*... that there isn't one scrap of malice or cruelty in these words... but in an instant...
i began to turn back to Egypt.
"Hey daughter... want freedom?"
He whispers...
"Yes, Papa..." i pray... i'm sweeping the crumbs from beneath my large family dining table... swallowing the lump in my throat and cursing the hormones that make my emotions run far too close to the surface.
And in that moment, I choose to raise my eyes above the teasing confusion of my fellow Israelite wanderers to the majestic sight of fire and cloud leading us Homeward in the sky... I beg Him to speak truth.
And suddenly i'm filled with a certainty... that this boy that I carry, is God's workmanship... Before he was formed in the womb, God knew him... Abba Father... is knitting him together in the secret place to do good things. The work i'm doing? It's not in vain... Jehovah-Nissi - my banner - is using me, His daughter. My willingness to carry this little one for His sake is not something to be scorned or looked down upon... it is a beautiful work, and one that will carry eternal consequences... and Jehovah-Raah - my shepherd - is so gently leading me...
Out of Egypt...
Out of slavery...
Out of self pity...
Into freedom.
Monday, June 3, 2013
thinking out loud... birth, travel and planning to flex
i have a tendency to over think things. It's a bit crippling at times - and such a sweet relief to finally be able to just let go when i realize that i've worked that one little thought into a frazzled mess and i should possibly just put it aside now.
My friend J and i were having a little texting convo the other day as she was working through a little thought process of her own. We kind of talked through her options and where she felt like God wanted her to be - and in the end she had peace about what she was supposed to do... and it was funny 'cause she told me, "Thanks for that. You are always so good at putting into words the thoughts and leadings I have but can't seem to explain. I know they're from God, but you help me stand back and see a broader picture."
And it's funny to me - how our weaknesses are so often our strengths too!
So the last few days i have been puzzling out some of the details of this baby's birth. There are so many blanks that will be filled in by my own sweet son and by a Father who i really believe has a hand in the timing of *all* things...
But there are a few details that i do know about that are rattling around in my head begging to be slotted into some sort of a makeshift plan - (knowing that where babies are concerned, all plans are subject to change without any notice)...
Neil's travel has been amazing this past little bit - far more home time than away time, trips that have been a manageable length and less weekends spent missing family time. But strangely, it looks like in the window of "baby time" - there are going to be not one, but two trips that will take him far enough away that he wouldn't be able to get home...
And i do have peace.
And there is a sweet little window of time between the trips where he will be home, and it wouldn't surprise me one tiny bit if the baby decided to arrive on one of those home days...
But for the days when he's not here... my mind (which again, is at peace) - is mulling over scenarios trying to find the very best options for me - and for the little ones here in our home, and mostly for this sweet little boy who will be making that epic journey through birth...
We're planning on using the Arbour Birth Center - like we did for Ephraim's birth. It was the perfect middle ground for us, and we both felt like it was our favourite birthing experience... We don't know who will come with us, if we'll bring any little ones with us, or if they'll all be tucked in bed. We're just deciding we'll decide when the time comes.
But if Neil's gone...
i don't want to drive across Calgary to get to a birthing center. Yes, i have awesome friends who would drive me... but it's the loneliness that gets me. i don't want to go and leave my family at home if i already don't have Neil. i know that doing that would make me feel sad and torn... So, we've decided that if Neil's out of town, we'll call the midwives to come to our house and have a home birth. i've done very little (nothing) to prepare for the event of a home birth. Maybe part of me is in denial that it's even a possibility, as i so badly want Neil to be there... Cairo claims that there's no way my mind will let my body go into labour until Neil's last trip is done & he's back home... & honestly? i believe her... That would put me at 12 days "over"... but it's not unimaginable...
So, there are some of my little threads of thoughts.
i'm not stressed.
i'm not worried.
i'm taking each day (and each business trip) as it comes, and i'm doing all that i can do to grow this sweet little one safely inside until it's time for him to come out - and i'm trusting that the Father who gave life to us both will hold us in the palm of His hand...
So there's my little update as I gaze ahead to these next precious waiting days with due dates looming on the horizon - and the sweet smell of rain making the grass grow green...
My friend J and i were having a little texting convo the other day as she was working through a little thought process of her own. We kind of talked through her options and where she felt like God wanted her to be - and in the end she had peace about what she was supposed to do... and it was funny 'cause she told me, "Thanks for that. You are always so good at putting into words the thoughts and leadings I have but can't seem to explain. I know they're from God, but you help me stand back and see a broader picture."
And it's funny to me - how our weaknesses are so often our strengths too!
So the last few days i have been puzzling out some of the details of this baby's birth. There are so many blanks that will be filled in by my own sweet son and by a Father who i really believe has a hand in the timing of *all* things...
But there are a few details that i do know about that are rattling around in my head begging to be slotted into some sort of a makeshift plan - (knowing that where babies are concerned, all plans are subject to change without any notice)...
Neil's travel has been amazing this past little bit - far more home time than away time, trips that have been a manageable length and less weekends spent missing family time. But strangely, it looks like in the window of "baby time" - there are going to be not one, but two trips that will take him far enough away that he wouldn't be able to get home...
And i do have peace.
And there is a sweet little window of time between the trips where he will be home, and it wouldn't surprise me one tiny bit if the baby decided to arrive on one of those home days...
But for the days when he's not here... my mind (which again, is at peace) - is mulling over scenarios trying to find the very best options for me - and for the little ones here in our home, and mostly for this sweet little boy who will be making that epic journey through birth...
We're planning on using the Arbour Birth Center - like we did for Ephraim's birth. It was the perfect middle ground for us, and we both felt like it was our favourite birthing experience... We don't know who will come with us, if we'll bring any little ones with us, or if they'll all be tucked in bed. We're just deciding we'll decide when the time comes.
But if Neil's gone...
i don't want to drive across Calgary to get to a birthing center. Yes, i have awesome friends who would drive me... but it's the loneliness that gets me. i don't want to go and leave my family at home if i already don't have Neil. i know that doing that would make me feel sad and torn... So, we've decided that if Neil's out of town, we'll call the midwives to come to our house and have a home birth. i've done very little (nothing) to prepare for the event of a home birth. Maybe part of me is in denial that it's even a possibility, as i so badly want Neil to be there... Cairo claims that there's no way my mind will let my body go into labour until Neil's last trip is done & he's back home... & honestly? i believe her... That would put me at 12 days "over"... but it's not unimaginable...
So, there are some of my little threads of thoughts.
i'm not stressed.
i'm not worried.
i'm taking each day (and each business trip) as it comes, and i'm doing all that i can do to grow this sweet little one safely inside until it's time for him to come out - and i'm trusting that the Father who gave life to us both will hold us in the palm of His hand...
So there's my little update as I gaze ahead to these next precious waiting days with due dates looming on the horizon - and the sweet smell of rain making the grass grow green...
Friday, May 24, 2013
The Last King of Narnia
"Neil? What about naming our boy, 'Tirian' after the last king of Narnia... it means, 'kind and gentle'... i like that..."
Neil without looking up, "i hate it."
"Oh."
My mother in law has taken to calling him Neilson.
My father in law calls him Finn... as in finished. As in last baby...
Charter had a dream that his name was Watchman and when he looked at him, it was written across his forehead... (i think that dream was prophetic and i'm tucking it away in my heart - but i don't know that Watchman is the name that this little one will carry on his birth certificate)...
Neil suggested, Fore - in honour of golf, i liked Truman...
And names are added intermittently to the little list i've kept - but none are chosen.
Yet.
Soon enough his name will be all finalized and made legal. Soon enough this time of expectancy will end and we will know so many things that are uncertain right now... What's his birth date? How big is he? Will he wait for his daddy to get home from his trips before his arrival? How will labour begin?
What's the name of this tiny king i carry?
But for now - so many of these musings can remain just that - musings - as we watch and wait out these last few weeks...
Neil without looking up, "i hate it."
"Oh."
My mother in law has taken to calling him Neilson.
My father in law calls him Finn... as in finished. As in last baby...
Charter had a dream that his name was Watchman and when he looked at him, it was written across his forehead... (i think that dream was prophetic and i'm tucking it away in my heart - but i don't know that Watchman is the name that this little one will carry on his birth certificate)...
Neil suggested, Fore - in honour of golf, i liked Truman...
And names are added intermittently to the little list i've kept - but none are chosen.
Yet.
Soon enough his name will be all finalized and made legal. Soon enough this time of expectancy will end and we will know so many things that are uncertain right now... What's his birth date? How big is he? Will he wait for his daddy to get home from his trips before his arrival? How will labour begin?
What's the name of this tiny king i carry?
But for now - so many of these musings can remain just that - musings - as we watch and wait out these last few weeks...
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
vulnerability in the last month
i'm nearing the end of this pregnancy...
Even if i go late (which i'm anticipating), still... each pregnancy has a beginning and and end, and i know that the end will come.
i've been feeling incredibly healthy and strong (still - at 37 weeks). But some days - it creeps up on me... vulnerability.
It's a certain heaviness... or a feeling almost like i can't breathe... or a fleeting panic at an inability to perform a simple task that was so easy a few months ago... And i feel tears come so easily - not from sadness or frustration - but just from the beauty and aching fragility of the expectant state... i have to explain to Neil... "i'm ok. i just want you."
And i do...
There is warmth and peace that radiates off his back when i press myself too close and he finally has to shrug me away saying, "someone is being too kicky..."
We roll over away from him, giving him some much needed space. My son and i. i'm heavily turning my enormous body away as he twists and turns in his baby home within me... and i feel that subtle communion that happens between mother and child in utero. It's a strange sightless connection between us. i imagine him all curled up - and i wonder if he imagines me at all... Gently i lay my hand on an outstretched limb that is making a strange lump on my abdomen... He's there.
My hands are thick and veiny from the extra blood flow in my body that sustains and nurtures his little body as it grows. My movements lack their usual quickness, my thoughts are plodding and sluggish...
A friend who is a mother of six phoned. We hadn't talked in a couple of years and as we caught up on my most recent pregnancy, she asked me, "So how do you feel about your big family?"
And i responded, "i'm doing the very best that i can..."
i am satisfied with that answer.
And i welcome the vulnerability that i've found myself in as i prepare myself for what's to come...
Even if i go late (which i'm anticipating), still... each pregnancy has a beginning and and end, and i know that the end will come.
i've been feeling incredibly healthy and strong (still - at 37 weeks). But some days - it creeps up on me... vulnerability.
It's a certain heaviness... or a feeling almost like i can't breathe... or a fleeting panic at an inability to perform a simple task that was so easy a few months ago... And i feel tears come so easily - not from sadness or frustration - but just from the beauty and aching fragility of the expectant state... i have to explain to Neil... "i'm ok. i just want you."
And i do...
There is warmth and peace that radiates off his back when i press myself too close and he finally has to shrug me away saying, "someone is being too kicky..."
We roll over away from him, giving him some much needed space. My son and i. i'm heavily turning my enormous body away as he twists and turns in his baby home within me... and i feel that subtle communion that happens between mother and child in utero. It's a strange sightless connection between us. i imagine him all curled up - and i wonder if he imagines me at all... Gently i lay my hand on an outstretched limb that is making a strange lump on my abdomen... He's there.
My hands are thick and veiny from the extra blood flow in my body that sustains and nurtures his little body as it grows. My movements lack their usual quickness, my thoughts are plodding and sluggish...
A friend who is a mother of six phoned. We hadn't talked in a couple of years and as we caught up on my most recent pregnancy, she asked me, "So how do you feel about your big family?"
And i responded, "i'm doing the very best that i can..."
i am satisfied with that answer.
And i welcome the vulnerability that i've found myself in as i prepare myself for what's to come...
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
morning glory
Our mornings have taken an unintentional - but beautiful - turn.
Neil has so much work out east that he just keeps his body on Ontario time now and he rises before the sun. He uses his morning hours to answer emails and phone calls from our living room couch. He brews the coffee, and lately? The hazelnut fragrance, my expectant discomfort and the promise of his solid, quiet company is enough to drag me out from underneath my blankets so i can enjoy the quiet of morning while our seven children slumber and our eighth hiccups and kicks gently in my womb.
There's usually a half-grin of greeting as i pad through the kitchen. And then the quiet of companionable silence broken spatteringly by brief conversations about the price of oil, the state of politics, a work crisis or any number of situations that are currently unfolding with any one of our little ones.
"What are you singing for that open mic thing at our church?"
"i'm doing a rap."
Silence.
"Cai's gonna add some violin... It's really more of a spoken word..."
Silence. A grin. A cocked brow.
And then slowly we both look back down to our reading... i'm reading an article about euthanasia and he's checking his portfolio online. Comfortable silence... We both know we're an odd match - but God knew what He was doing when he gave us to each other - and our oddness only balances us out in some unexplainable chemical reaction that makes one what was once two separate elements unrelated by composition, state or quality... Marriage just completely blows my mind.
Sometimes he'll wait till the first peeks of cottony bed head and hungry tummies make their way upstairs... and sometimes he gets an urgent phone call and sneaks out before any of them wake...
But these mornings with him home (he has been home more in the last month than any other month in the past year and a half) - have been something of a golden era - which the online dictionary defines as, "an untroubled and prosperous era during which people lived in ideal happiness." - or "a period of great peace".
And my eyes are heavy with sleepy happiness in those early morning moments...
There's no banging and shouting and moaning at my piano... If music is played, it's soft - so as not to wake our little ones. It's not a time for deep conversations - just little snippets of thoughts as we have them... things that connect us as i read and he works and daylight creeps ever nearer.
And who knows how long these precious mornings will be a part of our routine? Travel ever beckons and breaks habits and rituals. New ones are formed and old ones are quickly forgotten and replaced. But for now - in my 35th week of pregnancy, i'll gather each golden bud like a delicate morning glory and breathe deep the fragrance of peace.
Neil has so much work out east that he just keeps his body on Ontario time now and he rises before the sun. He uses his morning hours to answer emails and phone calls from our living room couch. He brews the coffee, and lately? The hazelnut fragrance, my expectant discomfort and the promise of his solid, quiet company is enough to drag me out from underneath my blankets so i can enjoy the quiet of morning while our seven children slumber and our eighth hiccups and kicks gently in my womb.
There's usually a half-grin of greeting as i pad through the kitchen. And then the quiet of companionable silence broken spatteringly by brief conversations about the price of oil, the state of politics, a work crisis or any number of situations that are currently unfolding with any one of our little ones.
"What are you singing for that open mic thing at our church?"
"i'm doing a rap."
Silence.
"Cai's gonna add some violin... It's really more of a spoken word..."
Silence. A grin. A cocked brow.
And then slowly we both look back down to our reading... i'm reading an article about euthanasia and he's checking his portfolio online. Comfortable silence... We both know we're an odd match - but God knew what He was doing when he gave us to each other - and our oddness only balances us out in some unexplainable chemical reaction that makes one what was once two separate elements unrelated by composition, state or quality... Marriage just completely blows my mind.
Sometimes he'll wait till the first peeks of cottony bed head and hungry tummies make their way upstairs... and sometimes he gets an urgent phone call and sneaks out before any of them wake...
But these mornings with him home (he has been home more in the last month than any other month in the past year and a half) - have been something of a golden era - which the online dictionary defines as, "an untroubled and prosperous era during which people lived in ideal happiness." - or "a period of great peace".
And my eyes are heavy with sleepy happiness in those early morning moments...
There's no banging and shouting and moaning at my piano... If music is played, it's soft - so as not to wake our little ones. It's not a time for deep conversations - just little snippets of thoughts as we have them... things that connect us as i read and he works and daylight creeps ever nearer.
And who knows how long these precious mornings will be a part of our routine? Travel ever beckons and breaks habits and rituals. New ones are formed and old ones are quickly forgotten and replaced. But for now - in my 35th week of pregnancy, i'll gather each golden bud like a delicate morning glory and breathe deep the fragrance of peace.
Monday, April 15, 2013
countdown to baby
32+ weeks pregnant with my little june baby.
i feel healthy and full and content and peaceful... so far... All my third trimester bloodwork came back with good results - my iron is a little low, but normal, my blood pressure is nice and low, my weight gain predictably around 24 pounds right now, my feet swell when i stand too much and i've lost the ability to sleep in, my fundal height is in the right range... All normal stuff for me in pregnancy. He's also head down - which is a relief after Ephraim stayed breech so late. i know he still has time to turn, but i'm thinking the chances are getting less now that he's getting bigger every day.
i've always found the last 10 weeks of pregnancy feel like living in a state of constant heightened expectation. i hear this countdown in my head - like the amplified voice of the space shuttle launch announcer - as these last weeks count themselves to their close. (Though don't worry, i'm not silly enough to believe that the end of a 40 week countdown = the end of pregnancy, it's always fun to countdown to the final count-up, isn't it? :)
And so i'm planning this little ones birth - as much as you can plan for the birth of a child that will be unique in timing and execution. We want to use Arbour Birthing Center again. Ephraim's birth was my favourite birthing experience - and Neil's too. We liked the freedom that the birthing center brought, and feel like we'd sure like it to work out for us to use their facility again. There's a little cost involved, ($525) but we felt like it was worth it for the experience we got out of it. We'll need to go and put down a deposit sometime in the next 4 weeks.
The other thing that comes to mind as we prepare, is Neil's travel. Neil had a travelling job the last time we had a baby, but in the last year and a half, his travel has kicked into high gear. It will be a little nerve wracking in the last bit i'm sure, as i want so badly for him to be home - but i do feel really sure that i can just let go and trust that God has the timing and arrival all worked out and that no scheming on my part will make anything go any more smoothly. As it stands, we're counting on baby being a little late, and i'm feeling certain that our little one will oblige.
This little boy is an active one. i've only resorted to kick counts once - as he's constantly on the move - moving my entire belly with his jabs and rolls. i love active babies - i've had both active and the gentle quiet ones - (and strangely, it didn't seem to have any measurable impact on what they were like after they were born) - but i sure appreciate my babies who are movers and shakers, easing any anxiety and offering constant reassurance that all is well.
We don't have a name yet.
My inlaws keep calling him, "Neilson" - and when i asked Neil if he liked that name, he gave me a, "you're ridiculous" face and a thumbs down... so i guess that's off the table. :) Neil is famous for only wanting to use his veto power on names and not coming up with any himself. He says it's because i come up with ridiculous names (he thinks "Watchman" is a ridiculous name). i don't know which one of us came up with the only one that he likes a little bit - but we're keeping it to ourselves right now since we're still so unsure. i keep a short list of names that stand out to me though - and i'm sure we'll find something to name baby at some point. It's funny though - i felt absolutely certain about my 'girl' name... so if the ultrasound tech was wrong and we end up with a june girlie instead of a june boy... she'll be all set. ("Saphron Glory" for those of you who are curious - & we would call her "Phronsie" just like in the Five Little Peppers and How They Grew).
i can't decide if 8 weeks left is a long time or a short time. It seems like such a short time to me... but then i second guess myself and say, "Oh, but paige, in the next few weeks - that's when your body will fall apart at the seams as this little boy packs on his chubbins and the exhaustion will threaten to overwhelm...
So i guess - it's both a long and a short time, so i'll just enjoy it while it's relatively easy - and when the tough stuff comes, i'll break out my stash of butterball bath bombs from Lush. (Neil bought me 3 when we were in banff... i might need more...)
So there are the meanderings of my mind - the bits and pieces that are a part of life in this snapshot moment of expecting number 8. Maybe not terribly interesting - but it's a part of the savouring of these tender child bearing years that can't help but count themselves to their close too.
i feel healthy and full and content and peaceful... so far... All my third trimester bloodwork came back with good results - my iron is a little low, but normal, my blood pressure is nice and low, my weight gain predictably around 24 pounds right now, my feet swell when i stand too much and i've lost the ability to sleep in, my fundal height is in the right range... All normal stuff for me in pregnancy. He's also head down - which is a relief after Ephraim stayed breech so late. i know he still has time to turn, but i'm thinking the chances are getting less now that he's getting bigger every day.
i've always found the last 10 weeks of pregnancy feel like living in a state of constant heightened expectation. i hear this countdown in my head - like the amplified voice of the space shuttle launch announcer - as these last weeks count themselves to their close. (Though don't worry, i'm not silly enough to believe that the end of a 40 week countdown = the end of pregnancy, it's always fun to countdown to the final count-up, isn't it? :)
And so i'm planning this little ones birth - as much as you can plan for the birth of a child that will be unique in timing and execution. We want to use Arbour Birthing Center again. Ephraim's birth was my favourite birthing experience - and Neil's too. We liked the freedom that the birthing center brought, and feel like we'd sure like it to work out for us to use their facility again. There's a little cost involved, ($525) but we felt like it was worth it for the experience we got out of it. We'll need to go and put down a deposit sometime in the next 4 weeks.
The other thing that comes to mind as we prepare, is Neil's travel. Neil had a travelling job the last time we had a baby, but in the last year and a half, his travel has kicked into high gear. It will be a little nerve wracking in the last bit i'm sure, as i want so badly for him to be home - but i do feel really sure that i can just let go and trust that God has the timing and arrival all worked out and that no scheming on my part will make anything go any more smoothly. As it stands, we're counting on baby being a little late, and i'm feeling certain that our little one will oblige.
This little boy is an active one. i've only resorted to kick counts once - as he's constantly on the move - moving my entire belly with his jabs and rolls. i love active babies - i've had both active and the gentle quiet ones - (and strangely, it didn't seem to have any measurable impact on what they were like after they were born) - but i sure appreciate my babies who are movers and shakers, easing any anxiety and offering constant reassurance that all is well.
We don't have a name yet.
My inlaws keep calling him, "Neilson" - and when i asked Neil if he liked that name, he gave me a, "you're ridiculous" face and a thumbs down... so i guess that's off the table. :) Neil is famous for only wanting to use his veto power on names and not coming up with any himself. He says it's because i come up with ridiculous names (he thinks "Watchman" is a ridiculous name). i don't know which one of us came up with the only one that he likes a little bit - but we're keeping it to ourselves right now since we're still so unsure. i keep a short list of names that stand out to me though - and i'm sure we'll find something to name baby at some point. It's funny though - i felt absolutely certain about my 'girl' name... so if the ultrasound tech was wrong and we end up with a june girlie instead of a june boy... she'll be all set. ("Saphron Glory" for those of you who are curious - & we would call her "Phronsie" just like in the Five Little Peppers and How They Grew).
i can't decide if 8 weeks left is a long time or a short time. It seems like such a short time to me... but then i second guess myself and say, "Oh, but paige, in the next few weeks - that's when your body will fall apart at the seams as this little boy packs on his chubbins and the exhaustion will threaten to overwhelm...
So i guess - it's both a long and a short time, so i'll just enjoy it while it's relatively easy - and when the tough stuff comes, i'll break out my stash of butterball bath bombs from Lush. (Neil bought me 3 when we were in banff... i might need more...)
So there are the meanderings of my mind - the bits and pieces that are a part of life in this snapshot moment of expecting number 8. Maybe not terribly interesting - but it's a part of the savouring of these tender child bearing years that can't help but count themselves to their close too.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
29 & 30 - & a blogging confession
 |
| 29 weeks |
(March 23rd) - i'll be 29 weeks tomorrow... My little one grows and kicks in my womb - and as i rub gently the piece of my own flesh that covers the tiny foot of another human being that just made an appearance on my ever expanding abdomen, i finally figure out why my mind has been so scattered lately.
i've been forgetful like i haven't been in years... So many plates spinning these days - and so many days spinning them without daddy.
Don't get me wrong, it has been good. (Minus a good week-long stretch where we got sick and i cried in bed because i thought that maybe i would be sick for the rest of my pregnancy and, Oh, God, how would i ever do this?)
But now i'm well - and strong - and i can laugh at my hormonal tears and defeatist attitude.
My mind is pulled in so many different directions these days: the dark eyed boy who writes sweet texts to my oldest daughter - and she who reciprocates, my middlies who are struggling with spelling despite the fact that i've made it a priority, my little boy whose runny nose keeps coming back, my tiny one growing in what feels sometimes like an ancient womb... (i get why Sarah laughed...) My mom - who i miss - and don't get to hear from enough, my sisters who are also navigating strangeness, my dad who is most often on the road, Good Friday - all that it means, all that i hope for, all that He is, my husband - and the peace that he unknowingly brings every time he comes home... there are only so many trails that my brain can follow before it just gives up...
And do you know where it goes?
It goes to the tiny one who is slowing me down. This little babe of mine reminds me with my own diminished abilities - that i am human... there is only so much i can do. He illustrates my weakness as 5 minutes of cleaning is inevitably followed by a 10 minute rest. He ignites my wonder as i feel him kick and grow inside of me and i could weep with the knowledge that his little life was ordained by a Holy God - for purposes beyond my imagination.
And i'm grateful.
i'm grateful for the scattered thoughts, for the rabbit trails my mind can't help but follow, the distractions that cause me to grow and try and be and do...
i'm doing the best that i can.... & it's enough.
**************************************
(April 2) A break in blogging brings to me an insecurity in ever pressing "publish" again... i haven't posted in weeks... "is this worthy of breaking my bloggy silence?" i wonder.
i write for week 29 and it sleeps in drafts while week 30 slips away.
i writhe as i write - i sneak in a post... it's harder than it used to be.
i'm different than i was - (even though my old posts still resonate truth, and i'm glad i've been honest - and i'm so very, very glad that i wrote them - there's always the balance between authenticity and the ugly over-share...) Things i thought i was sure of forever, have changed - things i thought might change, haven't. i guess it all comes down to the profound truth that so many before me have already discovered; that the older i am, the less i am sure of... you know... it's one of those lessons we are all bound to learn if we end up living long enough... and i'm muddling through it - 'cause that's how i roll... i muddle.
But...
i want to write for you *now*, little son.
i dream about you often. So much of this pregnancy has a strange new flavour for me - your experienced mama... who must acknowledge... that she has never, ever experienced YOU. You're bringing me to exotic new places - my Father is drawing me in - carefully prying open the layers of my heart to expose me to truth, to Himself and to His Great Love.
He's using you to bless me, tiny boy.
And so i'll press, "publish" - because i only ever started blogging for you anyway... for all my sons and daughters - to leave you a breadcrumb trail to my Creator (and yours too). As an echo proclaiming the Faithfulness of a Holy God who was leading your mama in preparation for the journey of your precious life.
i love you little "june baby"...
i'm so glad you've come.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
little blessings
All of a sudden i had a burst of gratitude...
i wanna write it down.
i bought a new (to me) washing machine on kijiji - & a little man who looked like a gnome from Narnia came to my house to install it at 9pm on what had been a terrible day. Since then, every so often i have a panicked thought, "LAUNDRY!!" & then there is just the sweetest relief of knowing i now have a nice little machine that works and is all hooked up for me to use... It's a beautiful thing. My husband sounded so relieved on the phone when i told him it was all taken care of.
i am so grateful for a second hand washing machine that is mine all mine.
Now this might sound funny, but i was scrubbing my toilets - and recently i bought new toilet bowl scrubbers... Not the funnest thing to buy... but what a silly pleasure it gives me to clean with a fresh tool that isn't discouragingly used up.
Worth it.
My big sister came for a visit... She brought food and some sweet maternity loaners, fresh smiles and laughs and company on what has been a really long lonely stretch without my husband. It makes me cry to think of all that she brought - and we crammed in an awesome Christian apologetics conference in the 24 hours her & her crew were here - and i gleaned some fresh new ideas for my mind to chew on - and a fresh appreciation for a Father who i love with my heart and soul... and my mind too.
i have so much bread that i can't fit it in my freezer.
i bought a new baby blanket that exactly matches my tiny son's room... and it's impossibly soft... and it made me imagine wrapping him in it... and that was a nice thought to hold onto.
i got 5 pairs of new socks for $5.
Ephraim told me he loved me during his bubble bath.
i'm big enough to enjoy my little belly, but small enough to enjoy it too...
i skipped church - and it was the right thing to do.
i caught ephraim just as he was about to clip a paper clip onto his penis...
My little ones make me laugh and cry and burst and smile all at the same time... they fuel me.
i'm so grateful for gratitude - for that explosive feeling that lets you see the good, and experience the blessings...
Big and little.
i wanna write it down.
i bought a new (to me) washing machine on kijiji - & a little man who looked like a gnome from Narnia came to my house to install it at 9pm on what had been a terrible day. Since then, every so often i have a panicked thought, "LAUNDRY!!" & then there is just the sweetest relief of knowing i now have a nice little machine that works and is all hooked up for me to use... It's a beautiful thing. My husband sounded so relieved on the phone when i told him it was all taken care of.
i am so grateful for a second hand washing machine that is mine all mine.
Now this might sound funny, but i was scrubbing my toilets - and recently i bought new toilet bowl scrubbers... Not the funnest thing to buy... but what a silly pleasure it gives me to clean with a fresh tool that isn't discouragingly used up.
Worth it.
My big sister came for a visit... She brought food and some sweet maternity loaners, fresh smiles and laughs and company on what has been a really long lonely stretch without my husband. It makes me cry to think of all that she brought - and we crammed in an awesome Christian apologetics conference in the 24 hours her & her crew were here - and i gleaned some fresh new ideas for my mind to chew on - and a fresh appreciation for a Father who i love with my heart and soul... and my mind too.
i have so much bread that i can't fit it in my freezer.
i bought a new baby blanket that exactly matches my tiny son's room... and it's impossibly soft... and it made me imagine wrapping him in it... and that was a nice thought to hold onto.
i got 5 pairs of new socks for $5.
Ephraim told me he loved me during his bubble bath.
i'm big enough to enjoy my little belly, but small enough to enjoy it too...
i skipped church - and it was the right thing to do.
i caught ephraim just as he was about to clip a paper clip onto his penis...
My little ones make me laugh and cry and burst and smile all at the same time... they fuel me.
i'm so grateful for gratitude - for that explosive feeling that lets you see the good, and experience the blessings...
Big and little.
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
little update on little one...
25weeks seems like quite a hefty little chuck of pregnancy in the rear-view mirror.
It's an interesting thing being able to look back on 17 years of pregnancy and childbearing... seeing what things have changed for me, what things remain the same, how i do pregnancy, how my body has coped with age and wear and tear...
i feel like i have this really cool perspective - and i'm so very grateful for it.
The other day, my teens had some of their very best friends over. i knew my pants were riding low and i thought... 'i'm going to look awkward if i stand up and have to yank up my pants...." so i lifted my bum from my seat, leaned back and tugged the back of my jeans... Cai caught my eye and burst out laughing... and i thought to myself, that it sure is a funny thing for teens to have the memory of their mama in the vulnerability of this pregnant state.
i gain roughly the same amount of weight with each baby... even though the babies have varied wildly in size. i generally struggle mightily with morning sickness for the first 18 or so weeks - although i had one who landed me in the hospital, violently ill - and one who never even made me queasy. i get low blood pressure and struggle with dizziness. My breastfeeding issues are their whole own post... i have never carried any baby as high as this little one. As a matter of fact, my midwives noted that my uterus was several centimeters higher than dates would suggest - maybe he will be tall, like his daddy.
But over all... i have so little to complain about... i genuinely enjoy pregnancy (especially the second two trimesters). Labours and deliveries have each been their own wild ride - but they've all been amazing, natural births that leave me wondering how i get off so lucky in that regard...
As far as ageing - even though much of pregnancy feels old hat and familiar... sometimes i'm reminded by some little weakness... that a couple of decades have passed, and there might be wisdom in being gentler with my older self...
And so i admit tenderness, i sit when i need to sit, i know that breastfeeding will be gut wrenchingly, agonizingly painful... and so i make allowances in my life so that we will succeed. i try to eat healthier and be aware of my own health - as my body cares for the health of the little one growing inside.
i guess i figure God knew what he was doing when he sent me each little one over the past 17 years... i trust Him.
It's an interesting thing being able to look back on 17 years of pregnancy and childbearing... seeing what things have changed for me, what things remain the same, how i do pregnancy, how my body has coped with age and wear and tear...
i feel like i have this really cool perspective - and i'm so very grateful for it.
The other day, my teens had some of their very best friends over. i knew my pants were riding low and i thought... 'i'm going to look awkward if i stand up and have to yank up my pants...." so i lifted my bum from my seat, leaned back and tugged the back of my jeans... Cai caught my eye and burst out laughing... and i thought to myself, that it sure is a funny thing for teens to have the memory of their mama in the vulnerability of this pregnant state.
i gain roughly the same amount of weight with each baby... even though the babies have varied wildly in size. i generally struggle mightily with morning sickness for the first 18 or so weeks - although i had one who landed me in the hospital, violently ill - and one who never even made me queasy. i get low blood pressure and struggle with dizziness. My breastfeeding issues are their whole own post... i have never carried any baby as high as this little one. As a matter of fact, my midwives noted that my uterus was several centimeters higher than dates would suggest - maybe he will be tall, like his daddy.
But over all... i have so little to complain about... i genuinely enjoy pregnancy (especially the second two trimesters). Labours and deliveries have each been their own wild ride - but they've all been amazing, natural births that leave me wondering how i get off so lucky in that regard...
 |
| me at 24 weeks |
As far as ageing - even though much of pregnancy feels old hat and familiar... sometimes i'm reminded by some little weakness... that a couple of decades have passed, and there might be wisdom in being gentler with my older self...
And so i admit tenderness, i sit when i need to sit, i know that breastfeeding will be gut wrenchingly, agonizingly painful... and so i make allowances in my life so that we will succeed. i try to eat healthier and be aware of my own health - as my body cares for the health of the little one growing inside.
i guess i figure God knew what he was doing when he sent me each little one over the past 17 years... i trust Him.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
love encounter
i blogged this entry over on the 40 Days for Life blog today. Will you pray for us? God is moving - and i want to be so sensitive to His voice as i do my best to serve Him...
If you haven't checked out the blog yet, here's the link: www.calgary40dfl.blogspot.com We're on day 8!
**************************************************
My midwife is over in the same corner of the city as the abortion clinic.
And so... knowing i had to make that trip, i made plans to go pray at the clinic after my appointment was over.
My midwife had another midwife assisting who is in the process of getting certified in Canada - she's fresh from Nigeria - and her long dark fingers palpated my tiny son in the womb. She wore a smile on her face as she told me with her thick accent, "He's wiggling..."
They took forever to find his heartbeat - and it took both of them - sighing over the inconvenience of my anterior placenta - and i couldn't help but grin at my tiny son, knowing he had nothing to do with it's placement but thinking it would be funny if he did. When finally they did find it, my midwife gave a wry laugh and said, "Oh! It's actually a girl!"
And i laughed too, "i won't cry either way..."
i grabbed my paperwork for my third trimester blood work and walked quickly to my car. i pulled on my gloves, scarf, toque and zipped my jacket to my chin... it was cloudy, and the cold felt like it wanted to seep through every possible route straight to my chilled flesh.
i pulled around the final bend - and found the sidewalk bare - like my Father had cleared the space for an intimate gathering of just us two. i parked my little car and grabbed my sign out of the back... it's my testimony and it reads, "i was scared too... she was worth it." And if i tuck a 40 Days for Life sign underneath it, i can hold them both at the same time...
i grabbed my earphones and plugged them in to my ears - i sometimes listen to worship music as i pray - to help keep me focussed and soft.
i don't know that i could describe what followed as anything other than a love encounter... Anyone familiar with Jesus Culture (the band) - or just my JESUS - might understand what i'm talking about... i felt Him there and i spent time meditating on the scripture verse that had been given to me by two different people in as many days....
If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 3 If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.
4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. 1 Corinthians 13:1-8
And then the one that i am learning seems inextricably linked...
1 John 1:19
WE LOVE BECAUSE HE FIRST LOVED US.
(If that's too succinct for you, go look up the surrounding verses... powerful stuff...)
So, i'm standing there on the sidewalk... and i'm realizing that the only reason i'm capable of love at all... is because of Him... and He is faithfully showing me how... and i'm listening to Kim Walker belt out, "He loves us - oh how He loves us!!"
And i see women - dropped off - walking through those doors alone...
And i know that as much as i want to encounter God... God wants to encounter them...
And for this same reason, i must want to encounter them too, to love them, to reach out to them... because my presence here means nothing without love. My testimony is just ink on posterboard without love. My reason for love is inescapable, unchangeable, irrevocable - because that's how God is... He loved me first & His love never fails...
Just as i was finishing my hour, a man pulled up in a nice car. He parked by the curb instead of in the parking lot and fairly ran inside. He was well dressed, with a suit and tie - he looked to be at least my age - far beyond the typical "crisis pregnancy" age. Soon, he came out again, helping a woman who was as well dressed as her husband. Her pretty dress coat was buttoned to her neck and she looked as prim as any woman who sits beside me in our little white collar suburban church on a Sunday morning... except she was obviously in pain. It took them a while to make it to the car, and gently he opened the door and helped her lower herself carefully to the seat. And i watched - and ached - and loved from across that street.
Abortions happen all the time in our city - all for different reasons, and under different circumstances. The only thing that never changes is death. Abortion masquarades as a cure all for so many circumstances: a special needs child in the womb, a poverty stricken family, yet. another. female child, a single mother, a highschool pregnancy, an abusive relationship, a terrifying rape... But the secret is that abortion does nothing to cure the roots of these "problems"... the result of abortion is not a cure all, it's a dead child. That's all. An abortion doesn't change the circumstances or turn back time... it just kills.
And i ache as i watch woman after woman leave that clinic in 'hour one' of their new reality. There is no judgement - there is only mercy on our side of the street... As a mother myself, i know the incredible transformative, overwhelming love that a mother feels for her child. The day that the realization of what she has done hits - i can only imagine the agony, the remorse and the grief that these women bear... i've seen it on the faces of women who have told me their abortion stories... even decades after they happened. It's not a pain to be wished on anyone.
Yes, i want to be a sign of hope to the families that book appointments at the clinic. My dream is that they'll turn around and not go through with the scheduled abortion. But for the ones that do go through with it... i feel it deep in my soul... *we need to be there as a sign of mercy*. We need to be there even more for them. My Father loves them...
And so do i.
The desert and the parched land will be glad;
the wilderness will rejoice and blossom.
Like the crocus, 2 it will burst into bloom;
it will rejoice greatly and shout for joy.
The glory of Lebanon will be given to it,
the splendor of Carmel and Sharon;
they will see the glory of the Lord,
the splendor of our God.
If you haven't checked out the blog yet, here's the link: www.calgary40dfl.blogspot.com We're on day 8!
**************************************************
My midwife is over in the same corner of the city as the abortion clinic.
And so... knowing i had to make that trip, i made plans to go pray at the clinic after my appointment was over.
My midwife had another midwife assisting who is in the process of getting certified in Canada - she's fresh from Nigeria - and her long dark fingers palpated my tiny son in the womb. She wore a smile on her face as she told me with her thick accent, "He's wiggling..."
They took forever to find his heartbeat - and it took both of them - sighing over the inconvenience of my anterior placenta - and i couldn't help but grin at my tiny son, knowing he had nothing to do with it's placement but thinking it would be funny if he did. When finally they did find it, my midwife gave a wry laugh and said, "Oh! It's actually a girl!"
And i laughed too, "i won't cry either way..."
i grabbed my paperwork for my third trimester blood work and walked quickly to my car. i pulled on my gloves, scarf, toque and zipped my jacket to my chin... it was cloudy, and the cold felt like it wanted to seep through every possible route straight to my chilled flesh.
i pulled around the final bend - and found the sidewalk bare - like my Father had cleared the space for an intimate gathering of just us two. i parked my little car and grabbed my sign out of the back... it's my testimony and it reads, "i was scared too... she was worth it." And if i tuck a 40 Days for Life sign underneath it, i can hold them both at the same time...
i grabbed my earphones and plugged them in to my ears - i sometimes listen to worship music as i pray - to help keep me focussed and soft.
i don't know that i could describe what followed as anything other than a love encounter... Anyone familiar with Jesus Culture (the band) - or just my JESUS - might understand what i'm talking about... i felt Him there and i spent time meditating on the scripture verse that had been given to me by two different people in as many days....
If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 3 If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.
4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. 1 Corinthians 13:1-8
And then the one that i am learning seems inextricably linked...
1 John 1:19
WE LOVE BECAUSE HE FIRST LOVED US.
(If that's too succinct for you, go look up the surrounding verses... powerful stuff...)
So, i'm standing there on the sidewalk... and i'm realizing that the only reason i'm capable of love at all... is because of Him... and He is faithfully showing me how... and i'm listening to Kim Walker belt out, "He loves us - oh how He loves us!!"
And i see women - dropped off - walking through those doors alone...
And i know that as much as i want to encounter God... God wants to encounter them...
And for this same reason, i must want to encounter them too, to love them, to reach out to them... because my presence here means nothing without love. My testimony is just ink on posterboard without love. My reason for love is inescapable, unchangeable, irrevocable - because that's how God is... He loved me first & His love never fails...
Just as i was finishing my hour, a man pulled up in a nice car. He parked by the curb instead of in the parking lot and fairly ran inside. He was well dressed, with a suit and tie - he looked to be at least my age - far beyond the typical "crisis pregnancy" age. Soon, he came out again, helping a woman who was as well dressed as her husband. Her pretty dress coat was buttoned to her neck and she looked as prim as any woman who sits beside me in our little white collar suburban church on a Sunday morning... except she was obviously in pain. It took them a while to make it to the car, and gently he opened the door and helped her lower herself carefully to the seat. And i watched - and ached - and loved from across that street.
Abortions happen all the time in our city - all for different reasons, and under different circumstances. The only thing that never changes is death. Abortion masquarades as a cure all for so many circumstances: a special needs child in the womb, a poverty stricken family, yet. another. female child, a single mother, a highschool pregnancy, an abusive relationship, a terrifying rape... But the secret is that abortion does nothing to cure the roots of these "problems"... the result of abortion is not a cure all, it's a dead child. That's all. An abortion doesn't change the circumstances or turn back time... it just kills.
And i ache as i watch woman after woman leave that clinic in 'hour one' of their new reality. There is no judgement - there is only mercy on our side of the street... As a mother myself, i know the incredible transformative, overwhelming love that a mother feels for her child. The day that the realization of what she has done hits - i can only imagine the agony, the remorse and the grief that these women bear... i've seen it on the faces of women who have told me their abortion stories... even decades after they happened. It's not a pain to be wished on anyone.
Yes, i want to be a sign of hope to the families that book appointments at the clinic. My dream is that they'll turn around and not go through with the scheduled abortion. But for the ones that do go through with it... i feel it deep in my soul... *we need to be there as a sign of mercy*. We need to be there even more for them. My Father loves them...
And so do i.
The desert and the parched land will be glad;
the wilderness will rejoice and blossom.
Like the crocus, 2 it will burst into bloom;
it will rejoice greatly and shout for joy.
The glory of Lebanon will be given to it,
the splendor of Carmel and Sharon;
they will see the glory of the Lord,
the splendor of our God.
3 Strengthen the feeble hands,
steady the knees that give way;
4 say to those with fearful hearts,
“Be strong, do not fear;
your God will come,
he will come with vengeance;
with divine retribution
he will come to save you.”
steady the knees that give way;
4 say to those with fearful hearts,
“Be strong, do not fear;
your God will come,
he will come with vengeance;
with divine retribution
he will come to save you.”
5 Then will the eyes of the blind be opened
and the ears of the deaf unstopped.
6 Then will the lame leap like a deer,
and the mute tongue shout for joy.
Water will gush forth in the wilderness
and streams in the desert.
7 The burning sand will become a pool,
the thirsty ground bubbling springs.
In the haunts where jackals once lay,
grass and reeds and papyrus will grow.
and the ears of the deaf unstopped.
6 Then will the lame leap like a deer,
and the mute tongue shout for joy.
Water will gush forth in the wilderness
and streams in the desert.
7 The burning sand will become a pool,
the thirsty ground bubbling springs.
In the haunts where jackals once lay,
grass and reeds and papyrus will grow.
Isaiah 35:1-7
Dear Lord, I pray these verses from Isaiah for women who have suffered an abortion. They know the desert. Their souls are parched, their knees give way, their hearts are fearful. Do for them, Lord what you have done for {others}. Open their eyes and ears, quench their thirst, fill them until they are bursting with your life and shouting for joy. Use me, Lord, in whatever way you will, to invite them to your streams in the desert. Amen. (prayer is an excerpt from book, 40 Days for Life, available on amazon)
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