Midwives, Milk, and a Stable

We’ve gotten some interesting responses to the fact that we had a homebirth almost 3 weeks ago.  I think a lot of people have just been very surprised we would choose that route.  Homebirth accounts for only a small percentage of births in the U.S. although in Europe it is much more commonplace.  Without going into tons of details and citing research that supports the idea that homebirth is a very safe choice for low risk mothers, I will say that our choice was made with much prayer.  I have now had four very low risk, textbook pregnancies and births.  I had a team of highly qualified midwives who have tackled every emergency situation and never lost a mom or baby.  The hospital setting was just not for me and thankfully Ricardo (while initially apprehensive) supported me in that decision.  T. was actually born outside a hospital as well in a local birthing center.  To anyone who has indicated they thought we were nuts, I simply stated that as Christians we seek to follow after Jesus.  Had Jesus been born in his hometown, he surely would have been born at home.  Instead he was born in a stable.  If a stable was good enough for Jesus, our safe, warm, cozy home was good enough for baby I.  ; )

A few days after I. was born I was able to do something very special which elevated my amazing midwives to an even higher state of awesomeness.  A little back story:  Almost 8 years ago when I gave birth to J. I had an incredibly difficult time breastfeeding.   My milk supply suffered after a number of interventions with my birth and complications after it.  I made an appointment with my obstetrician to discuss if there was a prescription I could take (one exists) to help increase my milk supply.  Her response was basically along the lines of this, “Well some women just don’t make enough milk for their babies and they have to accept that.  You are just one of those women”.  I was crushed.  She did end up being wrong and with much perseverance and patience I was able to stop supplementing with formula after a few months.  Still her words crushed my spirit.  For many mothers, the ability to fully nourish their babies is closely connected to their overall wellbeing and feeling of adequacy as a mother. 

When I. was only 5 days old I got a call from one of my midwives that a mother had given birth a few days after me and was unable to breastfeed her baby for a number of reasons.  She was working on getting him to nurse and would be working with a professional lactation consultant, but in the meantime the baby was extremely hungry.  She wanted to know if I could pump some milk for him.  Of course I said yes.  I’ve donated milk in the past to a mother who couldn’t fully nurse her baby.  This particular situation became so near to my heart because of how I was treated when I found myself in the same situation 8 years ago.  Instead of telling this mom that she needed to just resign herself to bottle feeding her baby, my midwife team made another choice, one that to me showed their true understanding of a mother’s fragile emotional state post partum. 

Midwives have always had a reputation of making choices that go against the status quo, but are in the best interest of mothers and babies.  In the bible midwives are held in high regard in Exodus for deceptively telling the king of Egypt they couldn’t carry out his edict to kill every baby boy born to a Hebrew mother because the mothers delivered before they could get there.

“But the midwives feared God, and did not do as the king of Egypt had commanded them, but let the boys live.” Exodus 1:17

For my midwives to hook up two moms for a modern day wet nurse scenario is completely A-typical, but that’s what makes them so special.  It further confirms my decision to choose them for my prenatal care and birth.  Little did they know they also gave us a connection with another family who have a newborn baby.  We text each other at 3 am to share updates.  They are equally sleep deprived.  We share a pretty cool bond.  I’m so thankful for how I. came into the world.

Our Sweet Baby I.'s Homebirth Story!

At 12:45 am on November 24^th I woke up to a few contractions.  They felt different than what I had been feeling before.  I began to panic as it was 2 weeks until my due date and I really didn’t feel ready to go through labor.  R. had just gotten back from working straight for 24 hours and hadn’t slept in almost 2 days.  It wasn’t a good time.  Besides that, I had pretty much spent my entire pregnancy not wanting to have to go through labor.  Obviously this was an inevitable end and beginning that I needed to complete at some point, but I wasn’t ready for it to be that night. 

I went to the bathroom and after I peed and wiped the toilet paper was slightly pink tinged. Blood.  Darn this was happening.  I knew this was happening.  I called my midwife telling her I didn’t want to go through it, that I wasn’t ready.  I told her I wanted to go to the hospital and drug myself up and just not have to deal with the pain.   She said, take a bath and maybe they would stop.  I knew she was wrong, but I took her advice.  I got in the shower and had some more contractions there.  When I got out I got dressed and felt a gush and knew my water was leaking.  I called back my midwife and she said she thought she should come over.  My water usually doesn’t break until the very end of labor so having it happen this early on signaled to her that it might be quick.  Our apartment was in a bit of disarray so R. got busy straightening things up for our birth team to arrive.  I continued to have contractions, but they were pretty manageable.

When my midwife arrived I had surrendered to the process and journey ahead.  I had hoped this time I would be able to lean on the two rocks in my life, Jesus and R.  I hadn’t ever managed to keep my focus on them during labor before, but this time I really did.  R. put on some music for me that really kept me in prayer and I would pray to Jesus during each contraction and in between too.  I thought about how he had endured so much more than I ever would.  I was also hopeful and asked God if we could have the baby before the older kids woke up in the morning.  The assistants arrived shortly.  I alternated laboring on the bed, the exercise ball, and just standing.  One the assistants was a massage therapist so she helped relax my legs in between contractions as they were shaking badly.  This helped so much because spasming legs is not conducive to rest in between contractions.  I went back into the shower and labored there through a few contractions, but it was too hot and I wanted to get out.  Back to my room and the labor ball and then back to the bed.  Through the whole things I just kept praying for God to help me through and leaning on R. for support.  We were totally in sync.  My birth team monitored the baby and was very hands off.  They let me do my thing and followed my lead.

Eventually I started to feel I.’s head much lower and my body began to push.  At my request I was never checked for dilation.  I just wanted to go with the flow.  I pushed for what felt like a really, really long time.  My midwife told me later it was just light pushing for about 20 minutes and then really intense insanely hard pushing for about 20 minutes.  It hurt so much and I badly wanted breaks, but my body was just doing it and so I went with it had pushed with all I had.  Eventually I pushed I.’s head out, but his shoulders got a little bit stuck in the position I was in (on my side) so they flipped me on all fours.  I have never been in so much pain and I was worried he was stuck and wouldn’t come out.  In maybe only a minute more I pushed his shoulders out and the rest of him came.  What sweet relief!  He was born at 6:14 am about 20 minutes before our other 3 woke up and came in to greet their new brother and sing happy birthday!

We immediately noticed he was sort of chunky and sure enough he is the heaviest of all our four kids at 8 lbs 4 oz.  Surprising for being the earliest by far.  We are so in love and blessed to have him here.  Recovery is going well.  He nurses wonderfully.  I couldn’t be more happy that God chose a different plan for our family than the one I had planned for myself.

4 weeks to go! or 3? or 2? or 5?

I have exactly 3 weeks and 6 days until our fourth little human is due to make his appearance.  I was reflecting the last day or two about how much anticipation I always feel in the final weeks of pregnancy.  When I ponder it, it feels quite huge.  On some pre-set date, that only God knows about, our child will arrive into this world, and I have no idea what day that's going to be.  It's exciting and nerve wracking all at the same time.  I think to myself, "It could be next week or in three weeks or five" I'm not sure if I like the anticipation of it or not.  The planner side of me certainly does not like it.  But it's a lesson in trusting God.  It will be soon though.  I will meet my fourth sweet little baby face to face.  It's been a long long roller coaster ride of a pregnancy.  But God has brought me a long way.  I'm excited.  Stay tuned!

On the Fence

For the last year I've been part of an online community of Christian women.  It's been interesting to discuss different topics and I've learned a lot about where I stand in my own walk with God.  The debates at time can get very intense.  I do enjoy a good debate however and often find myself straddling the fence on whatever topic is being discussed.

Lately I've been pondering my place as a fence straddler.  I don't know what I believe about a lot of things.  To name a few: I see the biblical basis for both believer and infant baptism, predestination vs. free will, remarriage being acceptable vs. never being acceptable.  I have absolutely no certainty over where I stand politically on gay marriage and abortion, although I tend to lean more liberally in the political arena while keeping my bible minded beliefs out of that area.

I feel like there is so much I just don't know and in the past that concerned me.  When the online debates get heated over things like Halloween, modesty, should every believer speak in tongues etc… there is an ever present Catholic voice on the board that points out that we Protestants can never figure out what we believe about anything, are constantly divided, and that leads to bickering and dissension.  She's certainly correct.  She points out that the Catholic Church's solution to this is to have a stance on everything, therefore eliminating the need to wonder about anything.  The leader being infallible and ordained by God cannot make a mistake, therefore Catholic doctrine comes directly from God and solves the problem of what is right, wrong, and what to do about it if you're wrong about something.

It makes nice, neat sense, except for one thing I've been feeling lately:  I just don't feel like God wants us to know and have all the answers.  I don't doubt the answers exist.  But perhaps being uncertain leads us to just trust Him and have faith that one day it WILL all make sense.  If we have all the answers down pat we as human beings have this nasty tendency of becoming self righteous and legalistic, trusting in rules and not God Himself.

With all that said, I could be entirely wrong.  : )   I'm okay with that.  I'm actually very okay with saying I don't know how I feel about a lot of stuff.  I think I have the important stuff down.  Love God, follow Jesus, love people.  Leave everything else in His hands and listen to His voice.  Someday I will see Him face to face and maybe then everything will be perfectly clear.

Apples and Burqas

Ricardo and I have been praying and contemplating a move outside the city.  It's such a tough decision. Maybe not for everyone, but we always said we wanted to raise our kids here.  Now that we have almost 4 of them, we still have that desire, but realities have set in and we are balancing them and trying to weigh our options.  I recently read an article that poked fun at the idea of having more space and a suburban life style.  It touted the tough minded, steadfast individuals who stick it out year after year in their one bedroom apartment with four kids.  I admire the positivity of the writer.  I respect him pointing out that living in a small space is nothing compared to living in Darfur or Syria right now.  He is right.  But... it's still a tough decision.

Yesterday I was reminded of one of the reasons we love it here.  T. and I had gone on our weekly trip to the produce store.  She was sitting in the shopping cart helping me choose apples.  Another patron passed us wearing a Burqa; only her eyes were showing.  T. looked up and smiled, pointing to the lady she said, "Oh look it's Husam's mommy!" referring to a friend of mine.  Seriously where else in this country would my daughter have such a nonchalant reaction to something so foreign and strange to most people?  To her, the lady just reminded her of one of our friends.  The opportunity to know and love and be loved by so many wonderful people from so many places doesn't happen everywhere.  But God has allowed that to happen for us here.

I don't know what's ahead for us, but I hope no matter where we go, my children will grow up around a multitude of different people from different cultures, walks of life, and experiences.  God created this rainbow of people and and I want my kids to live amongst it's beauty.  If we can't have that anywhere else, I don't know if I'll be able to leave.

A Dream of Mine is Realized

On September 1, 2001 I moved to New York City to pursue a Masters Degree in Education.  I came here for a top-notch education, not because I particularly wanted to live here.  A few days later I began student teaching at a school on the Upper West Side close to my university.  It had a tough student population and I was in a first grade classroom with little real clue about what it took to be an effective teacher.

About a week later two airplanes flew in the World Trade Center while I was beginning to get my feet wet in the classroom and turned my stable world upside down.  I wanted to leave the city.  I begged my parents to let me come home.  They told me to stay put (a little odd right? considering the circumstances, but they knew well what I needed).  The rest of the semester was a struggle trying to connect with these little humans who talked about people jumping out of buildings like it was no big deal.  The head teacher I worked with had little confidence in me.  She left the classroom regularly when I took over the class and the kids, knowing she was gone, would go nuts.  My supervisor from the university was supposed to visit me eight times and provide me with feedback and support, but she rarely showed up.  At the end of the semester both of them gave me poor reviews.  My supervisor told me I would never cut it as a New York City school teacher. 

Amazingly I didn’t run away.  I took on a new placement in January with a wonderful, caring teacher who restored my confidence.  My new supervisor was top notch and gave me tons of advice and encouragement.  I met my husband for the first time that month and fast-forward 12 years and I am still here to this day!  I did end up “cutting it” in the city schools.  I think I actually faired wonderfully.

I always said one day I wanted to have the chance to be a supervisor to student teachers.  I would be everything like the one I had my second semester and nothing like the one I had first.  I wanted the chance to tell a future teacher that they could be a positive inspiration to a child, that they could speak life into their lives and perhaps even change it’s course.   Better, I believe that in a system that is gritty and hard and cynical, they could bring a smile to someone’s face, help a child know that they had a purpose, and be different than many people around them. 

In March I found out I was going to be a mama for the 4^th time, a role I never planned on.  The door I thought I would walk through this fall back into the classroom was closed.  I was discouraged.  But you know what?  God had a different plan for me.  First He needed me to focus more on my role as a wife and mother.  But He is gracious and He knows me and that I would love to have just a little more than just that.  Out of absolutely nowhere I was offered the position I had always wanted to do:  Supervising student teachers, and from a Christian college no less!  So now every Friday for a few hours I hang up my mama hat and head back into the schools and work with future teachers who feel the call on their life to be God’s hand of love extended.  It is rewarding beyond what I had hoped and I am so thankful!   

My PSA about Fertility (at least mine but probably others as well)

I generally don't like to be soapboxey, but I can't help myself:

Since finding out we were expecting our fourth child I have braced myself for the comments that would ensue when it became obvious to everyone that we had another one on the way.  At 26 weeks pregnant  it's been a good two months now that I couldn't really hide the fact.  Perhaps living elsewhere in this country we would be relatively average with number four on the way and no one would bat an eyelash, but in NYC this is not a common occurrence.  Hence anyone and everyone has an opinion on it.

Just yesterday our Super saw me in the elevator and looking aghast, stated, "Another one?  When are you going to close up shop already!?  You're going to need a bigger apartment!"  Thanks.  I've been asked on a few occasions if Ricardo and I have cable TV because obviously we're in need of something else to occupy our time other than making babies.  I've been asked if we were using birth control, what kind, and how it failed?  Hmmm?  Honestly, I know everyone means well and I usually let it slide off my back, but really and truly it's nobody's business.

It really never ceases to amaze me how opinionated people can be about other people's fertility, especially when those people are nearly strangers.  The fact is that many couples are unable to get pregnant, unable to stay pregnant, have an unplanned pregnancy (raises hand), don't want to have children, or actually WANT to have many many children and are happily headed in that direction.  Without knowing a person's circumstance I feel it's highly insensitive to comment on it.  Usually the comment is more directed at how the commenter would feel in the person's shoes and not at the person's situation itself.  But it's still often rude and inappropriate. When someone is expecting,  a simple congratulations will do and thankfully we've had a number of wonderful people who have said just that and left it at that.  When someone is not obviously expecting, don't ask about when they will be.  Following those two simple rules will assure proper etiquette in the area of a woman's fertility.

Jumping off my soapbox.

The Plan Shatterer

As Christians we talk a lot about wanting to follow God's plan for our lives.  We'll say things like, "If He wills it", "God Willing..."  We obsess over whether what we are doing is in line with His plan.  I've come to a hard and fast realization that all my talk about God's plans has really been code language for  
"My own plans sugar coated with some spirituality".   Really it's true.  I mean I care about what God's plans are for my family and myself, but really I don't want to wait for any of them to come to pass.  Preferably I like to figure out the most logical options and then see if I can pinpoint exactly what makes the most sense and then attribute that to God's plan being revealed.  Deep down I know how foolish this is.  If I could just be a tad bit more patient perhaps He might actually have a chance to work.  But I'm a planaholic.  I always have been.

 Up until I came to know Jesus, most of my plans actually came to fruition.  I got into the exact college I planned for.  I planned my course of study, obtained the exact job I always intended to land upon graduation.  I rarely faced rejection because I was so well planned out.  But in the last six months I've had more plans fail, more future plans contain unsurmountable glitches than I know what to do with.  And I think it's God's way of telling me to stop making plans without Him.  He knows what He's doing.  I don't.  I just need to ask Him to pave a way and then give Him a chance to do it.

Without consultation, plans are frustrated...

Proverbs 12:22 NASB

Tunnels

Maybe I don't discuss it enough on my blog, but my husband Ricardo is truly amazing.  I mentioned in a previous post how incredible he was supporting me through the birth of my children, but his true feat is sticking by my side and weathering a hormonal beating when I am pregnant.  This pregnancy has been particularly trying because we are in limbo, trying to sort out what steps God wants us to take next.  This has not been a good combo with pregnancy hormones.  But he is a trooper.

Today as I fell apart in a particularly brutal meltdown, Ricardo began comparing our life to being in a tunnel.  He said when you're in a tunnel you have no choice but to head for the light and make your way out.  He told me that I keep trying to dig my way out of this metaphoric tunnel and he is left trying to clear the dust away and convince me that digging out isn't the way to go.  We must just move forward to the light and eventually we will be out of it.  Wise words.  Maybe God is trying to tell me something?  Hmmm...

Later this evening M. asked me to read him a story and brought me a book entitled "I Knew You Could"  It's like a follow up of sorts from "The Little Engine that Could".  I could barely read the book to M. without crying.  God used the whole book to confirm everything that Ricardo had told me earlier in the day.  Here's the page that really assured me of this:

You'll go through tunnels, surrounded by dark,

And you'll wish for a light or even a spark.

You might get scared or a little bit sad,

Wondering if maybe your track has gone bad.

So here's some advice to help ease your doubt.

The track you took in must also go out.

So steady yourself and just keep on going ---

Before you know it, some light will be showing.

And then you'll be out, heading to a new place.

You'll be ready for the next tunnel you face.

Oh how true is that?  We're on this journey, this track that God has us on.  And sometimes it get's dark and hard and we worry and doubt.  But He will always see us through.  But like Ricardo reminded me, there's only one way out and that's by following the track towards the light, not trying to dig a separate exit fruitlessly.  I need this reminder each and every day right now.  Hopefully I can keep my eyes on the light at the end of the tunnel, and that light is Jesus.  Maybe next time He has me in a tunnel I'll be more ready for the challenge it brings.  

Fish

We just got back from a wonderful week long vacation at the beach.  Our rental home sits right on the sound and our house has a dock with direct water access.  The kids had all sorts of fun swimming, kayaking, and their all time favorite activity: fishing.  Last year we stayed in the same house and we caught nothing.  This year the kids were adamant that they would catch a fish.  They begged to go fishing the minute we arrived, but it took a us another day to actually wrangle some bait appropriate for salt water fish.  M. was certain they would be happy to eat bagels.

Armed with some shrimp we headed down to the dock to give it a shot.  The boys each took a turn with no success.  It seemed we might not be successful this year either.  Then little T. wanted to try.  I laughed and said, "Watch she's going to catch one on her first shot!"  Sure enough, with Ricardo's help, T. reeled in a little fish!  The kids were jumping up and down cheering.  With more confidence, M. went up to the plate and to my surprise caught one too.  Each child proudly posed with their fish before we let it go.  Finally it was J.s turn again.  At first he expected to catch a fish right away, but try after try he reeled in nothing.  He began to get frustrated and announce that he wanted to give up, that he would be the only one who ended up catching nothing.  We encouraged him, but also suggested if he didn't get one, that he be happy for his brother and sister (yeah right).

Finally there was only one small piece of shrimp left.  This was his last chance.  Struggling with my own faith lately I mustered up something in myself to pray out loud.  "Jesus, this is our last chance.  Please help J. catch a fish."  As he cast his line into the water I tried hard not to doubt.  I wanted to believe God would come through.  What little faith I had.  But sure enough J. felt a bite and swiftly reeled in his line, pulling up a small gleaming fish!  Standing on the dock my mom shouted, "I can't believe it!  On the last piece of bait!"  J. beamed with pride.  We snapped pictures, clapped, and then reminded him that God had answered our prayer.  He waited until the last second to do it, but He did.  Hmmm... parallel even greater things in life?  God always comes through, but sometimes not until there is nothing left to rely on but Him.  A message most wholeheartedly needed for where I am right now in life, waiting for God to send me a fish.

"Early in the morning, Jesus stood on the shore, but the disciples did not realize that it was Jesus. He called out to them, “Friends, haven’t you any fish?”“No,” they answered. He said, “Throw your net on the right side of the boat and you will find some.” When they did, they were unable to haul the net in because of the large number of fish."  John 21:4-6 NIV

God Answers Little Prayers

I've been struggling lately.  Really struggling.  When you're struggling it usually means you're having a hard time trusting that God has your back, that He's listening...  One thing or the others seems to go wrong and I fall apart like things will never get better.  Today though I had a bright moment that I want to share.

The boys are taking tennis lessons every Tuesday and Thursday morning.  Today they were grouped together which usually makes J. insanely competitive towards M.  Neither of my kids are tennis genius's but M. is definitely NOT a sports athlete type.  He prefers to dance.  But...he likes tennis and has a relaxed attitude about trying new things.  J. on the other hand is super competitive and hard on himself.  He gets angry when he doesn't get something right the first time.  If J. misses the ball he furls up his face and stomps his feet.   If M. misses the ball he runs to the back of the line, turns around and smiles at me, winks, and gives me a thumbs up!  He couldn't care less!  So very different.

Today each boy was placed on a different "team" and the goal of each team was to get 20 balls over the net first.  Every time it was J.'s turn he pretty much got the ball over.  M. never did, not once.  It was the last point.  The teams were tied 19 to 19 and the last two kids up from each team were none other than J. and M.  The teacher said, "Okay if J. gets it and M. doesn't, J.'s team wins.  If M. gets it over and J. doesn't M.'s team wins.  If they both get it over the net, both teams win!"  "Oh my goodness!" I thought to myself.  I wanted them both to get it so badly.  I wanted them both to win.  But seriously the odds of that were slim because as I previously mentioned, M. had never hit the ball over the net even once.  So I prayed, "God please let them both get it."  And you know what?  They both did!  A tie!  Thank you Lord.  I'm having a tough time right now trusting God work certain things out in my life, but He is there.  He never leaves my side.  I needed a little reminder of that today and He gave it to me.

Missing in Action

Wow it’s been a really long time since I’ve posted here!  We’ve had a lot going on in our lives the last few months and they were things I just felt like I couldn’t share right away because I was really struggling with them.  At the end of March things were going great.  I was getting ready to submit paperwork to return to work full time, teaching in J.s school.  We were considering selling our apartment to some friends and actually buying a home in our neighborhood.  It was exciting!  And then about two days after my last post I found out very obviously un-expectantly that we are in fact expecting our fourth child in early December.

 I was completed floored.  I cried.  In one moment all of the plans that were underway came to a halt.  I promised myself I would have a positive outlook about it, but it’s silly to make promises about how you are going to feel about something.  I failed to keep it within a day.  I felt guilty about feeling bad about being pregnant.  I felt guilty because I have a few friends who have been trying for years to have a baby and I’m having another one.  I cried some more.  All of my struggles to be content in our small living space came flooding back and to be honest with you are still with me at this very moment.  There's no more space in the kid's bedroom for another kid (My children have solved this by stating they will just let the baby sleep in their bed ; ) Worries over finances hit me like a ton of bricks because I never planned to stay home long term and now with four little ones, returning to work full time seems unrealistic and quite honestly not what God wants me to do. 

We then found out that M. cannot get a spot in J.s school for the fall unless we falsify our address (which the school flat out encouraged us to do).  God has always paved ways for us and we’ve always been honest, so that is just not an option.  The kids will be switching schools and I’m not happy about it.  I love the school we’re in.

 

I wish this post had some great wrap up of revelation on how I’ve gained perspective that God is going to work things out.  My mind knows this is true, but my emotions and hormones are fighting against that every day.  I do know that a new life is always a blessing and somehow I will survive the rest of this pregnancy and the newborn months.  I’m really not good at being pregnant and I’m even worse at being sleep deprived, so bear with me.  The next year is going to be a rollercoaster for me, but I plan to take you all on the ride.  I’m going to be real and it probably won’t be pretty. Go easy on me.

The Story of Love

Tomorrow and Sunday I’ll be acting in our church Easter production entitled: The Story of Love.  I think this is at least the 5^th or 6^th time I’ve been in this particular show.  It’s essentially the story of the gospel from the beginning of creation to the resurrection set to music.  The last scene I am in is the scene where the crucifixion happens.  It’s chaotic and it doesn’t feel like acting.  It feels like I am really there.  And that is really painful.  Last Sunday when I came off the stage I headed up to Ricardo’s office to change out of my costume.  Everyone is solemn when we leave that scene.  It’s hard to transition from how real it felt to the reality that we were just acting.  But there’s something that I do every time I’m in it.  No matter how many times we rehearse or perform, I always have to watch the end.  I know Christ isn’t still on the cross.  Oh how thankful I am that He is not!  But it doesn’t matter.  Even though I know the certain outcome of the end of the show, I need to watch it every time.  I have to see the risen Christ.  I have to see Him!  The show makes the suffering on the cross so real.  But thankfully he’s not on it anymore.  He is risen from the dead!  And he lives in all those who believe in him!

Here are some photos from the show.  All courtesy of Aaron Robinson:

Letting Go: My little T. labor story

Well tonight marks two years ago that I began the painful journey towards meeting my sweet T. : )   As I was dropping M. off at school I passed the restaurant where Ricardo and I ate lunch exactly two years ago and the memories came flooding back.  So here’s a few snippets of that story I don’t think I’ve shared before, or if I did I can’t remember.

T. is our number 3.  J. was number one and delivered while I was blissfully drugged up with an epidural.  I had bad complications from said epidural and promised I’d never do it again.  So M. was a drug free labor and delivery.  He came fast and furious, but I had never gone through the whole thing without drugs so beforehand I was blissfully unaware of the pain I would endure.  Fast forward 2 years and I was planning another drug free birth, only this time I knew what was going to happen and what it would be like.  I was scared.  Ignorance is bliss they do say and this time I was not ignorant! 

In the weeks leading up to her birth I remember feeling a looming sense of dread.  I was ready to be done with pregnancy, but wanted to skip over the birth part of it.  Every time I would have contractions (which was often as I am a big contractor for weeks before my babies are born) I would pray that it was not time yet!  I remember feeling so relieved every time they would peter out.

They day before T. was born I had a midwife appointment and I literally poured my heart out to her telling her that I just felt like I wasn’t ready and I didn’t want to go through it.  She listened and said, “You just have to let go and let her come.”  On the ride to the aforementioned restaurant, Ricardo and I chatted about this.  I was typically hormonal, crying about how our life was about to change and how all I knew was boys and that made me comfortable and how would it be with a girl?….etc.  But I ended my tear fest by repeating the midwife’s words, “I know. I know.  I just have to let go.”

I don’t know if that triggered some sort of release, but later that night the contractions began and twelve hours later T. made her entrance into the world. 

So here’s my little practical application that connects to T. birth:  Life isn’t always easy.  Sometimes we have to go through stuff.  We have to do things that make us uncomfortable, especially for God.   Instead of holding back and being fearful, we need to let go and let God take us through the rough spot, help us to do something difficult, whatever it is.  Don’t hold back.  He is with you.

Casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you. 1Peter 5:7

A Confession

Have you ever struggled and grappled with something for a long time, but never mention it out loud because you feel like nobody will relate to you?  That’s where I find myself.   I’ve shared a lot about motherhood.  I think I’m pretty transparent.  I’m honest about my shortcomings as I have many and I think it’s just a waste of time to try and to cover them up.  But I’ve never shared this before.  Here it goes…

Sometimes I wonder if by becoming a wife and a mother I missed my true calling in life.  Doesn’t that sound awful?  I love my husband and kids with all my heart.  They bring me joy and they challenge me.  But so often I look at myself and think the role of mother and wife is so far from who I truly am.  I would never wish to not have my life, and yet I long for a life I will never have.  I find that sort of strange. 

I think part of it stems from the selfishness in me.  I’m not selfish when it comes to giving my time for perfect strangers, but I feel resentful sometimes that I must give so much of myself for my family.  Gosh that sounds so warped.  For most people it’s usually the other way around.  Which makes me wonder if God’s true intention for my life was to mother, to nurture, and to submit to my husband or whether is was to live out my life serving others on my own.    

Thankfully I suppose it’s irrelevant because that is who I am now.  That is who God is calling me to be from here until the end of my life.  He knew the path I would walk down and the path I have lying ahead.  Perhaps these roles that I feel so unsuited for are specifically suited for me, to teach me how to love and sacrifice in ways that are hard for me.  Thankfully God is always good and I don’t need to lament when these questions arise within me.  I trust this journey because He is on it with me.  Left alone on it I would certainly fail and take these amazing people he’s entrusted me with down with me.  But God won’t let that happen.  He makes sense even when I can’t make sense of anything. 

Thanks for letting me share that.   Hopefully you don’t think I’m the worst wife and mother ever.  I struggle with the notion that I probably am, but then I think maybe every wife and mother feels the same way about herself.  Can anyone relate to this?  

A Life of Purpose

I have recently jumped on the Downton Abbey bandwagon.  Ricardo has been a huge fan for a long time and so I’d seen bits and pieces.  But I’m now hooked on the whole series.  I’ve worked my way through seasons 1 and 2 and I’m currently enjoying season 3. 

One of the things I have found intriguing is the daily reality for these aristocrats.  They literally don’t have to do anything for themselves.  They don’t work, don’t cook, clean, or even put on or take off their own clothes.  It sounds nice.  I’d probably like it for a day or two, maybe three.  I think a lot of us like the idea of that kind of ease.

But just like some of the characters on the show, I think eventually I would become very restless with that lifestyle.  Why?  Quite simply, their lives lack purpose.  They don’t have to work hard for anything.  It seems pretty boring in fact. 

It reminds me of this news special about lottery winners and how despite being set for life financially, they all ended up depressed, downtrodden, and sometimes dead.  Why?  I mean how many people out there think life would be so satisfying if it were just easier?  But the truth is when everything is handed to you; you lose the value and pleasure in those things.

 There’s something to be said for working hard.  There’s something to be said for fulfilling your purpose, for having a purpose to begin with.  What is my purpose you might ask?  While the specifics of our life calling are different, our life purpose is to do the will of God.  What is God’s will for our life?  It’s this:

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength. The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself. There is no commandment greater than these.” Matthew 12:30-31 (NIV)

Daisy Love Merrick

I planned to write today, but not about this.  I had something else in mind, but I just finished watching the memorial service and celebration of life of this amazing little girl and I had to share.  I had to share because I've been following her story for quite some time now and I can honestly say that her life has touched my life more than any other person.  That's quite something to say because she was only 8 1/2. But her faith in God, her perseverance, her selflessness has left an impression on me that runs deep.  I believe I'll look back on my life someday and I will see how God has used her life to change mine.  I see the ways He already has.  I'm not going to say much more than that.  Her family and church family created a website that shares her story.  Her memorial is there to watch.  It's pretty long.  But honestly it's worth it to watch.  Set aside some time and just watch it.  It's life changing.

www.prayfordaisy.com

Journals

I guess it should be no surprise that I am a blogger.  Prior to the invention of the internet, I journaled my way through my teenage years in a hard cover journal.  My early journals mostly contained poetry and random blurts of my “deep” teenage thoughts.  I journaled through my twenties and my early walk as a Christian.  I’ve kept a journal for each of my kids that I began when I was about 2 months pregnant with them.  And now I’ve taken journaling into cyberspace with this blog. 

I recently dug out a journal that I began at 16 and ended when I was close to my 21^st birthday.  I want to share the very first and very last entry in my journal because I believe that they paint a picture of how lost I was as well as how much I desired to be found by God.  This first one was a poem I suppose.  I was sixteen years old when I wrote it:

                                               

                                                           Untitled

                                                Eager to see the world,

                                          Eager to understand it’s ways,

                                                 I cry out in silence,

                                                For I am trapped in

                                                  within my head.

I became a Christian just after I turned 23.  But in digging up this journal I believe I have found the very first written evidence of my personal journey to finding Him.  I was about to turn 21.  Of course I know that He had always been after me, but things got really serious for me after I wrote this prayer:

Dear God,

Please show me the way.  Point me in a direction that is good and just.  Let me make decisions that are full of purpose.  Let me make mistakes that will only help me grow.  Let me be kind.  Let me love somebody wholly.  Lead me to the answers I am looking for.  Teach me to teach others in a way that embodies all that you would want me to be.  Make me grateful and gracious for all that I have in this life.  It is a daily reminder of your love for me… Give me wisdom and strength.  Guide me down the right path.  Protect my faith in you and I will always follow. 

Amen.

I know it seems here like I was following Jesus with all my heart, but I assure you I truly was not.  I was searching for the truth.  I was crying out to a God who was still invisible to me because I hadn’t committed my heart to Christ fully.  The amazing thing is that only a month later I was on a plane to Israel where my life would be changed even more.  For those of you who haven’t read about that I’ll link the entry here: http://tilmyheartlookslikeyours.blogspot.com/2011/12/israel.html

I’m really blown away by the grace of God and how He has allowed me to look back and really see evidence of how He called me to Himself.  I’m amazed at His pursuit of my heart. He is so gracious. He pursues us.  He loves us.  He wants us to want Him too.  Most of all, He knows us.  And He answers us when we call out to Him.

Stumbling Blocks

A lot of my posts lately have been light and fluffy.  Their purpose is to encourage and warm the heart.  They have their place.  I’ll just preface by saying that this post is not one of those.  Sometimes as Christians we need to encourage and lift up and sometimes we need to speak the truth even if it’s hard to say or doesn’t sound pretty.

I had a conversation recently with my Dad that I’m going to share.  I’m fairly sure he won’t mind.  As a child my father worked in a position where he often had public speaking engagements and stories about my sister and I were numerous (and usually slightly embellished).  Likewise my Dad published a book that has content about me.  So he owes me one.  He reads my blog so he will read this ; )  Love you Dad!

Anyway, my Dad and I were talking deep spiritual stuff.  We mostly agree when it comes to our faith, but occasionally we don’t and on this particular topic we have not always seen eye to eye.  The topic was about hell.  Essentially my father struggles with the idea that if you don’t prescribe to the belief that Jesus died for your sins you will go to hell.  After much discussion he said to me, “So you’re basically saying that if you’re gay, or Buddhist, for example, you deserve to go to hell?”  You know what?  That is a really good and really tough question.  I recently heard a response to the likes of this question that I thought was a good one.  The answer I heard and one that I personally intend to give should this kind of question be asked of me again is this:  It’s not that someone who is gay deserves to go to hell, or someone who is Buddhist.  The fact is, we ALL deserve to go to hell.  I do and you do.  We’ve all fallen short of perfection.  Generally speaking in secular American society, while most people believe in a god and an existence of heaven and hell; the over arching belief is that if you lead a good life you go to heaven; a bad life you go to hell.  The Christian however believes that no one can measure up to the perfection of God.  No line in the sand can be drawn between ‘good’ and ‘evil’.  The Christian believes that we all fall into the category deserving hell, but we believe the good news that God paved a way for us through Christ’s sacrifice on the cross. 

When I accepted that, I didn’t walk into my relationship with God feeling like everything that He says is wrong, really is.  But I surrendered my life to Him and over time He showed me something important.  He showed me that my feelings towards something He says don’t matter.  Something might seem right to me, it might feel right to me, but if He says it’s wrong, then it is.  To this day I don’t look at all sin and have a feeling of detest towards it in my natural sense.  Some sins I do, but others I just don’t.  But that doesn’t matter.  I don’t trust in my feelings to determine right from wrong.  I believe that my mind is infinitely smaller and less capable of understanding anything compared to the creator of the whole universe.   That said, only God gets to determine right from wrong.  We do not.  We are not called to pick apart others or point or shake a finger at them.  We are called to share God’s love and to share the truth that we have all fallen short and point the way towards the cross.

So for anyone reading this who believes in God, but not in anything else I just wrote, consider this:  Is it possible that the way you feel about God and the truths you have established for yourself might be wrong?  Is it plausible that God is bigger than who you’ve created him to be?  Maybe there is a supreme authority that trumps your beliefs?  Maybe your feelings don’t matter? 

For me the bible is my authority.  It is accurate.  It is inspired by God.  The seeming contradictions do not actually contradict each other.  It answers big life questions.  It is worth reading, studying, learning, knowing, and following, even the parts that don’t make you ‘feel’ warm and fuzzy.  

"For the foolishness of God is wiser than man's wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man's strength."   - 1 Corinthians 1:25 NIV84

Not the exact verse I used, but this cartoon sums up a lot of what I was saying:

www.joyfultunes.com

Blue Eyes and Double-Jointed Thumbs

I’ve always sort of secretly lamented the fact that my children don’t really look like me.  I think this might be a similar experience among other interracial families where two or more races are blended together to make little people who while (according to me) possessing beautiful features, don’t really resemble either of their parents.   My kids really do look like each other, but I’ve never really been able to identify anything in them that I know for certain comes definitively from me. 

Honestly it wasn’t really that big of a deal.  But I’ve always sort of looked longingly at families where the child clearly just takes after one of their parents.  Like their genes were just stamped and replicated so obviously, there would be no question that the kids belonged there.  My nephew is an example of this.  He is like a carbon copy of my sister.  He looks exactly the way I picture my children looking before I met and married someone with dark brown skin. 

My boys were both born, beautiful brown eyes, olive skin, and don’t look like me at all.  I expected the same from my daughter before she made her appearance and for the most part I was right.  Except for two very unlikely, slightly strange features that she possesses that always make me smile, because they always remind me without a shadow of a doubt that she got them from me!  The first are her eyes.  They are blue.  Really what are the chances of that?  I’ve seen it before in pictures, but honestly if you know anything about how genetics work with determining eye color, she is a bit of an anomaly.  My husband has absolutely no history of anyone in his lineage with eyes any other color than brown.  So technically T. should have had no chance of ending up with blue eyes.  Yet I assure you she definitely has them!

The second is very quirky.  As a kid I used to love to freak out all my friends by popping my crazy double- jointed thumbs in an out of sockets.  It was my cool/weird super human trick.  Well let me just tell you the big smile I got on my face when I held my little T.’s newborn hand in mine, counted and wiggled all her fingers, and joyfully discovered her flexible double jointed thumbs!  Almost two years later it still makes me smile every time I see her popping that thumb in and out of it’s socket (she’s unaware that this is weird yet).

So seriously what is even the point of me sharing this with anyone?  Honestly I don’t really know.   They’re not really a big deal in comparison to the gift of life God has given me in my children or on a much greater scale, the gift of life He has given me through his Son Jesus.  In metaphoric terms, the gift of Christ is like a bowl of my favorite ice cream every day, and my daughter’s eye color and thumb tricks are like tiny sprinkles.  But I’m still thankful for them.  I think He gave me those sprinkles because He knew they would mean something to me and bring me joy.  He’s a generous and loving Creator.  

So God, I know you can read this, and I just want to thank you.  You deserve thanks for so much more, but for just this one second I want to thank you for blue eyes and double-jointed thumbs and for the bond of a mother and daughter.  I’m really grateful for that.  You’re the best!