A Lovely Birth Story

Hello everyone! She's here!!

Warning: Kinda, sorta, REALLY long. ;)

Apparently Tuesday was a good day to have a baby!

But barely. She arrived Tuesday night at 11:04. She was six pounds four ounces and nineteen inches long. She has light brown/blonde hair with some light blonde and red in it and really light eyebrows and lashes. So we're not too sure which way her hair will go. 

I have to tell you a little about the meaning of her name. We've liked her first name since we were pregnant with our second baby, Son. We didn't know what we were having so that was our choice if it was a girl. Then we still liked it through our third pregnancy, again a boy. And now, we still liked it when we found out that Jelly Bean was a girl!! I had looked up the meaning to the name years ago and really hadn't given it much thought again and didn't remember what it meant. Anyway, we picked her middle name based on the meaning, it means birth or born (in reference to Christ's birth) and I just loved it. In the hospital, Hubby asked me what her first name meant and I had no clue anymore, so I just looked it up again and the Greek and French origins of her name mean "bright light" or "torch." So her full name could mean a bright light or torch is born! How amazing!! God's got plans for this little one, let me tell you! ;)

So that's it. She's here. She's great. 

Huh? 

What?

You want to hear our birth story?

Well....

Okay fine. ;)

So Wednesday I posted about being up all night with contractions. They continued as I had written all day. They were every five minutes, very uncomfortable. I couldn't sleep through them, but I could still walk and talk through most of them. I was in early labor and I knew it. Around noon I started getting frustrated that there wasn't any change. I would even have ten minute breaks here and there with no contractions at all. So my friend Rachelle was so kind to come over and hang out with the kids and I. Then she pulled out her stroller, loaded up her kids and asked promptly "Ready to go for a walk?" We walked around the block a couple times and even ran a little at one point. 

I also cleaned my bathrooms, cleared out all the laundry hampers, picked out clothes for all the kids for the week, cleaned the couches and vacuumed. Just a few last minute chores to get things moving. ;)

Well things were still the exact same until around 3:30 or 4:00 when I started to notice the intensity of the contractions increasing, however not the frequency. At this point I found myself still wanting to walk and move around a lot, but had to lean on something through a contraction and couldn't really focus well to talk through them. 

Hubby had come home from work early and started to ask every 30 minutes "Time to go?" I told him I would absolutely NOT go to the hospital only to be sent home because my contractions are not consistent or frequent enough. That's what they told me with Baby and I was at 8 cm when I went BACK to the hospital a few hours later. So this time, I was not leaving until I knew I was already far along like that. So we waited.

Fed the kids. Bathed them. Read stories. Explained what was going on and that we could be taking mommy to the Doctor while they were sleeping if Jelly Bean told us it was time. Daughter was a little nervous about me being away, but really excited for her baby sister to come. Then we sat down to wait. I worked on a blanket and read a book. But then I noticed that the contractions seemed to subside a bit! It was around seven at night and I started to get frustrated again that they weren't progressing. I had already called my neighbor to be ready that night and hubby had already told his work he'd be out the next day. I started to think maybe she won't come tonight! 

Hubby suggested that I lay down and sleep since I'd been up since midnight, but I didn't want to because I just wanted to keep things going! So I paced the house. For almost an hour I walked around, stopping to lean on a chair, swaying from side to side through contractions every five minutes. Around 8:30, I was still frustrated and very tired. So I decided to just give up and lay down. I fell asleep on the couch almost immediately. About 25 minutes later, my eyes opened so fast as my whole body folded in half. My stomach tightened hard and my legs were shaking as the worst contraction yet rolled through. It lasted for two minutes and after that I knew she was coming that night. 

The contractions...ahh the contractions. 

They were excruciating, the pain was so deep, rolling through my back and my abdomen, shooting violent shakes down my legs. I couldn't hold back the large tears that came with each one, my jaw clenched tight and my face was hot with exhaustion from this pain that couldn't be escaped. 

I had been mentally preparing myself for labor for weeks. I didn't want an epidural (although I was sure I'd give in the second I walked through the hospital doors) and I knew I wanted to stay home as long as possible, even though the same plan with Baby had still led to five hours laboring in the hospital before he was born.

Every time I'd have a contraction I'd sing softly to myself "It is well" or repeat her name, reminding myself this was so minor a pain compared to the joy I'd be experiencing so soon. I'd tell myself that I was not at the limit of pain that God had designed my body to bear and I'd remember all the hours I'd spent praying for the tiny life inside me. It ended up being a really mental and sometimes even spiritual with the amount of prayers I was sending up, battle. Sometimes I'd think "If I were at the hospital, I could already have an epidural and be sleeping through most of this." But I'd remind myself that my body was designed to endure this and if Jesus could experience the suffering He had for us, I could surely endure this labor to welcome our baby into this life. 

We decided to wait about an hour before going to the hospital, about the same as what we'd done with Baby. I had about seven more contractions, but the last three were almost back to back. We called our neighbor, checked on the kids and we were off by 10:15. We got to the hospital and signed in at admitting by 10:30. We were sent up to labor and delivery and taken to a room. I was having contractions every 1-2 minutes, each one lasting two minutes. I was crying and moaning and groaning, gritting my teeth, and often times thinking that I just needed to calm down. I changed into the open backed hospital gown and got into bed and they checked me immediately. It was 10:42. I was dilated to seven, although they said it was hard to tell exactly because my water bag was bulging (remember the high fluid numbers?). The baby's head was no longer on my cervix (it was the day and week before, causing a lot of pressure), but was being pushed up because the bag of waters was bulging down. That explains why everything felt so slow progressing all day...it was moving along nicely, but I wasn't feeling that intense pressure normally felt during active labor. So they laid me on my side to try to relieve some of the bulging and then left to start a chart and get an IV going. They asked if I wanted an epidural and I said I did if they thought they could get it in time, because by this point all of my self control was gone and I just wanted to sleep. I kept saying "I'm so tired...I'm so so tired!"

As soon as all the nurses had left the room, I felt a pop and then warm fluid rushed all over the bed, down my legs. There was so much fluid it just kept pouring out. Hubby went to the hall to tell the nurse and as soon as all the fluid had stopped, I immediately felt the most overwhelming and painful pressure right at my cervix. It felt as if a bowling ball slammed against my cervix out of nowhere. I literally felt like bones were crushing and pulling apart at the same time. I looked at the clock right when my water broke. It was 10:55pm.

The nurses were telling me to relax and not to push at all because we were waiting for the Doctor. I kept saying I was sorry and that I was trying and I kept telling them I wasn't pushing. It felt like something was inside me (well, duh) pushing the baby. My main nurse looked at me and said that if she had to deliver the baby, everything would be fine and that she'd done it numerous times before. I just nodded and didn't take the time to explain that I wasn't really concerned with who was delivering my baby, I just didn't want her to end up on the floor. I felt the nurse pushing back on the baby's head and I knew she was holding her head inside as she was talking to me. A minute later she said "Okay, head's out!" 

I was surprised because I had been trying so very hard not to push, to hold her inside. But at the same time I wasn't surprised at all because I had felt her head pushing despite all my best efforts. The nurse told me to push one time, I did and Jelly Bean was born. I remember looking at Hubby's face and laughing because he was so excited, nervous, surprised and shocked at the whole situation. Bean's time of birth was 11:04, exactly 22 minutes after I climbed onto that hospital bed and 34 minutes after we arrived at the hospital. Everything happened so fast, so different than the other kids...so unexpected. 

The Doctor didn't make it for delivery. He arrived 20 minutes after birth. Our friend and photographer, who I had planned to be there for a little bit before the birth as well, arrived about three minutes after the birth. 

**By the way, thank you so much Sarah for being a part of this day, this incredibly special time with our family and for capturing such perfect moments. And if you haven't thought about or decided to have your birth photographed professionally, I would HIGHLY recommend it. I wish I would have done it with all my kids...the pictures are just priceless**

I didn't have an IV hooked up. There was no time to start any of my paperwork, the nurses didn't even have time to break down the bed. The monitors only had about two minutes of contractions and heart rates recorded. It was a blur, but it was an incredible, wonderful blur.

Seeing her sweet, tiny little face with her paper thin ears and cheeks covered in peach fuzz was overwhelming, to say the least. She's my fourth baby, so I knew this was coming, but it never tires. The wonder is never worn, the magic is never old. The mystery of birth and life is revealed new each time and each time I whisper to myself how I cannot imagine not having done this one more time. 

I marvel that Jesus actually knit her together...pieced her precious little self tiny bit by tiny bit, deep in my body. At the same time, He also nurtured a seed of love planted deep in my soul. All her soft little flutters, every time I heard her strong heart beat, every thought of her that passed through my mind were all orchestrated together to create a love that was exploding long before I held her fragile hands, touching each slender finger. 

I could go on and on describing the moment, the experience, the feelings and mostly, the baby. My child. My youngest child. 

But really, it is summed up so perfectly in such an ordinary way. I needn't do all this blabbering. Just look at her. Just know that Jesus designed her and allowed us to meet her, to hold her, to know her, to love her. I don't need to say much...she tells the story in her soft little noises that sound like a kitten, her sweet baby smell, the velvety smoothness of her skin.

I really can't say anything to do her...Jesus' handiwork justice.

So I'll just leave it at this...the two words that run through my mind all the time.

She's Lovely.

Gifts 115-130

That I can stay home and raise my babies

Butterfly Kisses

Tangled ;)

Brushing daughter's hair

Watching daughter dance

The pride that she brims with when she tells me about preschool

A preschool co-op

Pineapple and coconut

Dinner with friends

Praying for friends

Sun tea

The hymn, "It is well"

Pictures

Blogging and the community around it

Comfort from Christ

Vanilla wafers

Gifts 108-114

Handy daddy and helpful papa. 
That I can stand to worship Him. 

Fog rolling over the hills and into the valley. 
The sun, pushing its light through the fog. 
My husband taking care of me. 

My son praying for me.

Gifts 92-107

Small hands holding smaller hands. 
Bananas. 

Veggie sticks and hummus.
 Watching children sharing: snacks, toys, games. 
Nap time for children. 
Breath to live, to praise. 
Chubby fingers, pointing. 
A toddler's honesty. 
A child's curiosity. 
My oven, always heating, cooking, baking, warm meals for family. Sister to love. 
Potty-trained toddler. 

Home nebulizer, opening tightened airways.

Gifts 75-91

Extra hours of daylight.
Two arms to hold my baby. 

Ears to hear his cries.
The quiet of the early morning. 

The tiny buds of spring, revealing their splendor slowly.
Old words to inspire. 

Cool breezes whispering softly.
Memories of loved ones.
The shine on a clean tub.

First sprouts of tiny seeds, promising harvest. 

The honesty and curiosity of a child. 

Peanut butter and jelly.
New friends. 

Creamy milk chocolate and bold dark chocolate. 

Early

5:30

AM

It is still dark. It is cool, no, cold. 

Crisp. Quiet. 

People are still warm under blankets, asleep.

Birds are still quiet.

The streets are lonely.

The early and dark world is calm, serene. 

I wake to baby crying. I change him and wrap him warm in a blanket, rocking in the dark. 

He opens his mouth and yawns big. He settles his head on my shoulder, soothed by my warmth and the calmness. I think that in just an hour or so, the serenity of the night, of the early morning, will be swept away and the bustle of day will take its place. The sun will come and spread its light, people will begin their jobs, activities, chores. 

I rock, quiet in the chair, holding my youngest child close. 

I soak up the peace of the night and the warmth of my baby.

A candle, forgotten the night before, flickers its warm and gentle glow across the walls. 

Shadows dance.

Baby grows heavy. I take him to his bed, lay him down and tuck the soft blankets close. He looks into my eyes before they flutter and give way to sleep.

I return to my own warm bed, climb under my blankets and get the pillow just right. I close my eyes, eager to snatch up that one more hour before the day begins. 

A song pops into my head. 

From nowhere.

From above.

"In the morning, when I rise.

In the morning, when I rise.

In the morning, when I rise,

Give me Jesus...

You can have all this world, 

Just give me Jesus."

I shoo the song away. 

"Give me Jesus,

Give me Jesus,

Give me Jesus,

You can have all this world,

Just give me Jesus."

It will not go away.

I don't want it to.

I lay there, eyes wide open. 

I am not tired.

I am joyful.

I am thankful.

I rise and go downstairs.

Soak up the serene.

Thank Him for these few moments to be with Him.

To take in His glory.

To ponder on His words.

To start my day with thoughts of Him.

Thank Him for speaking to me so clearly this morning.

Help me to leave the world at the door, 

Throughout this day, 

Just give me Jesus.

Gifts 61-74

Loving touch of husband, reassuring and kind. Cookies, chewy inside and 

delicately crispy out. Peace in heart when searching for answers. 

Sharing inspiration. Planting tiny seeds, eager with anticipation. 

Spring. Christ-centered fellowship. Learning and practicing

 the truest depths of friendship. Water from the shower, 

warm on my back. The tiny orange slivers of daylight peeking 

through the blinds first thing in the morning. Incredible silver moon, 

glowing with rare brightness. Wisdom given in abundance when sought after. 

Green, favorite color, soothing, calming, beauty.

Preparedness

Disasters. They seem to be everywhere. Our hearts are heavy with sadness for our fellow humankind. Those suffering. In Japan, Haiti, Chile, even in our own country and others spanning the entire globe. Eyes fill with hot tears as we watch the news. Earthquakes, super storms, fires, floods. Layoffs, homelessness, empty tummies, suicide. Lost and hurt children, corrupt leaders, hateful violence.

So we lace up our boots and get ready. Prepare ourselves and our family for the impending disaster poised to strike at any moment. We search and search fervently for signs, clues any expert's opinion to give us a slight nod towards when and where, even what, we are preparing for. Our attics, basements, garages become filled with canned goods, water, batteries, flashlights, blankets and other survival needs.

And then we wait. Our fingernails chewed down to the flesh in nervous anticipation.

Lately this subject of disaster preparedness has consumed a huge majority of the conversations I find myself involved in. Some people I talk to are incredibly prepared, and amazingly, still diligently working on lists of further preparations. Some people are not prepared at all, but deeply troubled at the thought. Some seem they could care less.

Just a few days ago I was talking with a few people about this very subject and suddenly felt so very burdened. I was not burdened that my food storage was not up to par or that my documents hadn't been backed up on disc and placed in my fireproof safe. I was burdened for people. Christ kept laying the same thing on my heart, over and over, pleading with me to share. So here I am, sharing.

If you step back and look around, and quietly watch and listen, you will see people all around you, scrambling.

They are nervous.

They are anxious.

They are fearful.

We are desperately trying to prepare ourselves and our families for survival of physical disasters.

But what about our souls?

Are we ready spiritually?

Have we been as fervent with our soul preparedness as our physical?

Have we made lists of things we can do and read to align our hearts and minds with His?

Have we talked with our children enough, given them the love and guidance from above to prepare their souls?

Have we shared with our friends and family who may not be prepared for what is to come?

Are their souls as heavy on our hearts as their physical survival of a natural disaster?

What about a spiritual disaster?

It makes me think of Job. I'm sure he had no idea of Satan's plan to come in and sabotage his relationship with Jesus. I'm sure when he was put through countless trials and tests it was nothing short of a disaster. But he was ready. He had spent the time and done the work to prepare his soul.

How incredibly sad that so many people are running around, frantic, waiting for the next big one, fearful of what tomorrow holds.

"God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind. 

2 Timothy 1:7

God has given us hope and faith and the power to overcome the numerous trials and disasters that will come our way. We are His very precious children and He WILL take care of us. Jeremiah 29:11 tells us that He has plans for us that are GOOD! When we are faced with a scary tomorrow and we find ourselves anxious and fearful, it is not of God. Fear comes from doubt, and doubt is one of the enemy's strongest tools. We must remain steadfast and confident in God's promises. After all, he looks after the tiny sparrow, can He not look after us, His own children?

My favorite Bible verse is Exodus 14:14. It says "The Lord will fight for you, you need only to be still."

How comforting! 

All we need to do is be still and know that He is God and He is in control.

He loves us.

He has GOOD plans for us.

He gives us a spirit of love, power and peace.

He is here, waiting for us to trust Him.

So my heart does break for those that are hurting and suffering. And I do think it is wise to be prepared for natural disasters. However, I believe that it is more urgent and more important to prepare our souls. And to share His love and Word with the souls around us. If we have more assurance, knowing what would happen to us and our loved ones if we were to die in the next "big one," perhaps we'd be less anxious, less fearful. We would not fear death, because we would know that Christ has already triumphed over death and it does not mean the end of life, but rather the beginning of eternity. And we'd still have our fingernails. ; )

Break My Heart

The lyrics to this song have really been speaking to me this week, or rather God is speaking to me through them. I often find myself praying that He would help me to see things through His eyes rather than my own, but now I am pleading that He would change my heart, mold it. I want my heart to break for the things that break His. Everything I have for YOUR kingdom, Lord.  Help me have selfless faith.

Heavy

My heart is heavy. 

Truly weighed down and heavy.

It is breaking for people in my life.

Some are feeling less valuable and amazing than they truly are.

Some are subject to cruel criticism from other people.

Some are hurt and trying to ignore it. 

Some are struggling with personal battles and decisions.

Some are frustrated, tired, exasperated.

Some are feeling ignored, lonely and neglected.

Some are just plain physically tired and worn out.

Some are losing hope.

Some are afraid.

Some feel they are losing who they are.

I hate it all. 

I wish I could heal them, fix them, pour cheer into their souls. 

I wish I could take away the pain, frustration, fear.

I wish I could carry their burdens, lighten their loads, pull them along.

I wish I could guard their ears, their hearts from the hurt.

I wish I could give them peace, that still quiet in our souls when we are "okay." Truly "okay."

But I cannot.

However,

I can smile.

I can hug.

I can listen.

I can sympathize.

I can offer my shoulder to lean on, my hands to help, my voice to reassure and comfort.

But ultimately, all I can REALLY do is pray.

Pray that He will heal them, comfort them, bring them joy. 

Actually, that they will take it, receive it. Because He is always offering it. Like a gift, a perfect offering. We just have to take that one step forward to receive it. To accept it. 

His love. His reassurance. His guidance. His comfort. 

So, if any of you are reading this, friends, family, all those who I am blessed to have in my life. Know this, I love you all. My heart breaks when yours is down. My soul mourns when you are discouraged. I wish I could take it all away, but since I cannot, I am going so stop wishing. But please know, I am praying.

Praying for peace.

Praying for love.

Praying for joy.

Praying for you. 

It takes a Village

When are other people's children our responsibility?

This topic has been plaguing me for some time now. I have always been the type that firmly believed that in most instances, other people's kids are just that and you need to keep opinions and advice to 

yourself unless solicited. Now I still believe this to an extent, but my theory is evolving. 

Perhaps it is because my children are getting older and have different needs. 

Of course when you have a 2 month old in the dead of summer in Southern California and ol' Edna at the supermarket feels it necessary to scold you for not having socks on your child, you tend to get a little annoyed. I hated getting those types of comments with both kids. It felt insulting. I'm sure that I was overreacting and taking things too personal, but it's just how I felt. And feelings after all, are hardly reflective of reality. But now my children are getting older and when a stranger greets them cheerfully at the store, I am starting to expect them to say hello politely and respectfully. It doesn't bother me in the slightest when the gentleman in front of me in line turns and tells Kaelyn she had better talk nicely to her mother if she is sassing off. Wow, I have come a long way in a short time! I am starting to realize that raising kids is so much more of a job than I once thought and that while it may not be necessary to have a village help raise them, 

it certainly cannot hurt.

Perhaps I am realizing this more as I have so many other children of all ages in my life. All of my friends' children, our cousin's children and our neighbor's children; they have all been placed in our lives for a reason. I am not saying that I feel responsible to lecture and scold every time they slip up or talk rudely to their mom. Not at all, I am just starting to feel that it is my responsibility to watch my own actions and responses to things; to remember that in some way my family and I are an influence on all of these children in our lives, and that makes them our responsibility, even in just a small part.

I was recently at a family friends' home and all of the extended family children were there. One child in particular, about nine or ten, tends to be the "loner" for lack of a better term. This child has definitely not had a consistent and stable home life and you can see that they are starting to act out and resent their home situation. Fortunately the extended family, this child's aunts and cousins and grandparents, have a much different situation. They all do have stability and love, support and family, blessings both financial and intangible. The family's frustration with this particular "problem child" was painfully obvious, and I imagine, didn't help the child's apparent feelings of distance and loneliness. I was shocked and saddened to see the lack of love and patience that this family showed this child. I could see an emptiness, an aching, a childlike longing to be a part of something, yet at the same time, giving up on life, happiness, people. I talked to the child for a little while and the response to the positive attention I was giving was overwhelming. I left feeling sad and burdened for this child and all the children that come into my life. I hoped that I had left an imprint on this child's heart. Hoping that this child would not give up on life and more importantly that this child's family would not give up on them.

So this incident brought about all these thoughts just whirling in my mind and has made my heart heavy with this responsibility. How can I make sure to be the best influence on even the littlest life that crosses my path, even just a passing glance?

I think that we can maintain this responsibility in so many different ways. Being supportive of other mothers and fathers in our lives is a huge one. Being helpful and understanding and trying not to judge other family's situations can really mean so much to people. It is easier to just raise our noses and think that we would never do that or my kids have never had that problem, etc. but how does that help our children? What does that teach them? We are all here together, trying to do the best we can. What an amazing lesson it would be for our children to see our communities banded together, trying to raise our children with love and respect in a united effort?

Of course I know that we aren't living in a storybook where everyone has good intentions and ends happily, but we can all look out for the children in our lives and protect them even in the smallest of ways. We never know how one little moment could affect someones life. Wouldn't it be nice to know that for the most part, in whatever circle you are a part of, people are genuinely caring for and looking out for our little ones? It has to start somewhere. :)