A Day for Celebration

Last night as I was putting Nora to bed, we kissed and hugged as usual. I turned to walk away but decided against being hasty. "Nora, I need another kiss. This is the last time Mommy will be able to kiss two-year-old Nora. Tomorrow is your birthday!" Nora's grin peeked from behind her paci as she stated, "Tomorrow I will be 3 years old, Mommy." Three years. Time flies, but it really does feel like she's three, if not older, because I have forgotten what day-to-day life was like before Nora came along. It seems like she's been mine forever.

Today was a day to celebrate Nora. It was a day to bask in the simplicity of being a little girl as I stood wishing I could play pin the tail. It was a day to realize I sometimes bite off more than I can chew. It was a day to be thankful for helping hands and willing hearts. And now, before I lay my head down, it is a day to reflect on this day three years ago, the day I became a mother.

I woke up at 4 AM on June 22nd, a giddy 20-year-old with big hopes and a belly full of baby. I would fall asleep again 24 hours later changed, with a baby in the bassinet next to me and a heart full of emotions it would take me months to process. It was one of the longest days of the year and the longest day of my life.

My God is faithful. The story I am beginning to write here is one that is still unfolding. Really, it is just a smaller part of the story of my life. Three years out from the beginning of this smaller story, I can see now that it was, in fact, just the beginning of something. This smaller something is still being written, but I am far enough out from its beginning now to see that it is something that required a sovereign Author.

My very first semester of college, I elected to take a seminar in women's health. I still remember how much writing I did for that little one credit hour class and how much I learned. The professor assigned a big group project for the end of the semester. My group chose to compare outcomes of hospital births, birth center births, and home births. We spent hours looking at research and compiling our project. At the end of our presentation, my professor looked at me and asked, "So if you ever have a baby, where will you choose to give birth?" I did not hesitate to provide my answer. "I will give birth with a midwife in a birth center."

When David and I found out we were expecting, just 4 months after we married, I felt two things. I felt sure I was having a boy and I felt sure that my body was meant to grow a baby, bring it forth, and continue to feed it. When I went into labor 9 months later, I knew I was having a girl and I was filled with a lot of questions of "What if...?" I knew that labor and birth were normal and generally safe, so I would try to keep it as natural as possible. I didn't want a lot of interventions, but what if?

Because of little doubts and on whims of convenience, when labor day came we had already made several decisions that decreased our chances of having a natural birth. We were ill-prepared and had set ourselves up, so to speak. To make matters worse, though we didn't know much about how it would affect my labor, the baby girl was not optimally positioned. I refused induction in the days leading up to my due date. I chose to go home from the hospital so that I could move about and eat while I was still in early labor. But that was about the extent of our natural labor and birth.

Once I felt the first pain of active labor, I swore to David and my mother that I would no doubt have an epidural. As soon as possible. I was scared. I was so so scared. I was scared of the pain and scared of the unknown. I was scared of being told to be still in the bed. I was scared of having to speak up for myself. I was scared of surgery. My mother had three C-sections. I felt scared that I would have a C-section, too, and I was scared of surgery.

The epidural led to immobility as I napped for hours. That initial intervention was closely followed by several others, but things seemed to be moving along just fine. Then after two hours of pushing there was a vacuum extractor, a baby blanket on my chest, and word sent to the family waiting, "It won't be long now."

But it never happened.

They took the baby blanket away. No more pushing. Pain. Calling in the OR staff. Sign on the line. Don't worry. The anesthesiologist is coming. Pain. Vomit. Anxiety. Fear. Panic.

I was scared of surgery. My greatest fear was coming to be real. And my epidural was no longer working. I tried my best to communicate this information. I heard a conversation about what drug to give now. I spaced out. I was tripping.

I blinked. I saw blue. Lots of blue. I saw lights swirling in big circles. I heard voices. I felt a hand on mine. "Your husband is here." I felt a moment of focus. "I am having a C-section. What happened? David? Did I tell you I love you?" I heard a baby cry. (This is the part of the story that is the most difficult to write, but it is the part that ultimately impacted my perspective of birth.) I did not know whose the baby was. I knew I heard the cries of a baby, but I did not know the baby was mine. It was 11:30 pm. David says they checked her out, then put her on my chest. I don't remember the moment, but we do have photos that the anesthesiologist took for us. I do remember her face being really close to mine. They untied my arm so that I could touch her. I said something about how swollen her lips were. They took her to the nursery. David went with her. I fell asleep a second later.
(I realize that not every mother who has a C-section feels so disconnected from her baby. The medication I was given, Ketamine, induces dissociative anesthesia and causes hallucinations.)

I slept for nearly three hours in the PACU before finally meeting Nora. The nursery nurse, bless her, did not give the baby any water, formula, or pacifier. When we were finally united, Nora nursed like a champ and never looked back. Despite the odds being against us, we were able to breastfeed without difficulty. That was God's grace. I didn't know at the time how vital that relationship would be, helping me bond to my baby I didn't know had come out of me.

Nora weighed 8 pounds and 9 ounces. She had a head full of rather long, dark hair. She had blue eyes and eyebrows that looked like they had been perfectly drawn with a pencil. I studied her. I was amazed at how intricately designed she was. I tried to soak in every little detail. She was beautiful and yes, she was mine! A good gift from God. In the coming days, we would spend hours together, nursing and cuddling. And I would spend those hours reflecting.

To be continued...

While I Have Just A Minute

Our little Ava has decided that she is fascinated by computers. She loves to grab the screen and punch at the keys. I have tried to take the laptop up out of her reach and go about my "necessary" business, but her little lip curls and she wails, usually followed by her pulling up on my chair, putting her hands on my knees, and saying, "Mama, mama." Well, I turned the laptop off, closed it, and put it away. Nothing on this screen is that important. Of course it's just a season, but for now the blog posts will be sporadic and the e-mail may not be read every day. Just know I'm folding laundry, reading books, and playing tea party.

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind. We finished the new room the last week of April. There is still a good bit of organizing of the rest of the house left to be done, though. The last weekend in April we went to Topsail Beach, North Carolina, where I attended a 4 day Passion for Birth workshop while David, his mom (affectionately known by all in our family as "Mil"), and the girls had a nice little vacation in an oceanfront condo. David was surprised by how enjoyable the trip turned out to be, and I was amazed at all I took away from the workshop, which was also quite enjoyable. I am in the process of becoming a certified childbirth educator, and this workshop was one of big steps I had to take before I take the exam in October.

Immediately upon returning home from our dreamy vacation, Nora began sneezing and sniffling. The next morning she had a fever. I was just thankful we had all been well for six weeks. Little did I know what was to come. We ALL got sick. Miserably sick. And because Ava couldn't breathe to nurse, I developed a nasty case of mastitis. After two weeks of fevers, snot, and coughs, we are all better again. Thank You, Lord!

After the PfB workshop, I set out to begin writing my curriculum and progressing toward teaching. Since I needed to find a way to gain experience teaching childbirth classes, I called a local ministry asking if I could volunteer. I was hoping to offer prenatal classes to mothers with unplanned pregnancies. I did NOT expect to be asked to teach 5 days later, but God knew what was needed. Despite how sick I had been, I was able to teach my very first class on labor and birth to a group of 5 girls. Next week I am going back to teach about breastfeeding. This is a new chapter, which is always exciting, but it's even more than that. There is something really special about this opportunity and I am thanking God for the ministry He has set before me.

Last but not least, we are getting ready for a new family adventure. We are getting dairy goats! I have been wanting goats ever since I realized that a cow is a little much to feed. David is busy planning how to shelter them. Our buck was born a few weeks ago. We have named him Percy. Our two girls are a little older. I am not sure about their names yet, but David wants them to begin with the letter "G." They are all Nubian goats, and I think they are just so sweet. They come home in June. In the meantime, I have to go to work a little to pay for them and their fence. TTFN!

The New Room! Sneak Peak...

Nora eating breakfast at her table-with-a-view

We are counting this extra space as a big blessing. Nora thinks it is the neatest thing ever.

What does Ava think about it? She is just about as excited as I am!

"Mom, I just love this floor! I can scoot like a champ in here!"

So the room is not quite done, but will be within the week!

Short & Sweet: Concerning My Undying Love for David

Some mornings, I wake up and stumble into the kitchen to find the cup-at-a-time coffee maker all set up with freshly ground coffee, water, and my cup (with a sweet message written in the chalkboard space) ready to go. All I have to do is push the button and I can then hear that comforting sound and smell the best part of wakin' up. This may sound ridiculous to some. Sure I CAN make my own coffee. But I sometimes gripe about how I wish I had a coffee infusion at my bedside, ready to be plugged into my vein each morning. This way I wouldn't have to open my eyes, speak, or move prior to coffee. This is not for my sake, but for the sake of those I live with. It's not that I like my condition, but I am NOT a very nice person in the morning PTC (prior to coffee). But really, truly, this little thing he does just makes my day. I love it when he does that.

And now I just have to brag. Yesterday he surprised me by thoroughly cleaning every cabinet in the kitchen. They are white. They were looking pretty bad. It had been on my to-do list for a while. But when one must choose between wiping down cabinets and something basic like taking a shower, one will usually choose taking a shower. He is so thoughtful.

David and I started dating six springs ago. This time of year always brings back those sweet memories for us. So, I have a hot date tonight. ;) Oh, I do love David Oliver.

It Takes Time

Ava is 9 months old today! One day in the hopefully not-too-distant future I plan to write a series about her birth. What? A series? Yes. It will take more than one post, because I cannot share her birth story without starting years earlier, even before Nora's birth. So, like I said, one day...

But today, we celebrate Ava being 9 months old, which means she now has an ever-expanding vocabulary which includes the following words: Mama, Dada, Bye-bye, Hey. Okay that's only four words, but she talks so much I was sure it was going to look like more when I got it written down. Ava Pearl has just one oh-so-cute tooth. She is quite the eater, preferring ANYTHING including old crumbs, coins, and pine straw to milk unless she is sleepy. I would love for her to nurse more, but there is no forcing...errr...persuading her.

Ava has a very speedy army crawl. That baby can get around! All the activity is slimming her up, but she is still quite chubby. She still has the sweetest temperament, though she has learned to have little fits every now and then. She seems to be trying to change her routine, dropping one of her three naps. She loves to clap her hands for anyone who will sing to her. Oh and here is her new trick:

When babies are born we think their sleepless nights and total dependence is the end of our lives as we know them. While it is true that babies change us, their state of total dependence is so short lived...they just grow and change so quickly. Yes, it takes time for a newborn to become an independent being, but there is such fun and beauty in the process.

This is what I have been learning.

I wanted the room addition on our house done months ago.

I want my house out of its current state of chaos. Yesterday.

I want to see my career goals become a reality next week.

Daddy always said, "You're wishing your life away."

I am an extremely goal-driven person. As God would have it, I married a man who enjoys the scenery along the way. I really want to stop wishing for tomorrow to be here today. It sounds so simple, but apparently I have a difficult time adopting simple concepts. For me, even learning that things take time takes time.

I am excited to say that the next time I post I will have photos of the girls' new room, which will be done this week! Yay!

A picture of the girls for your enjoyment. Yes, I am well aware that the bow on Ava's head makes this photo comical. Thanks to Aunt Michelle and Madison for the outfits!